War and Peace
coachmen, and ferrymen, still stood on the raft and talked.
“If there is a God and future life, there is truth and good, and
man’s highest happiness consists in striving to attain them. We must
live, we must love, and we must believe that we live not only today on
this scrap of earth, but have lived and shall live forever, there, in
the Whole,” said Pierre, and he pointed to the sky.
Prince Andrew stood leaning on the railing of the raft listening to
Pierre, and he gazed with his eyes fixed on the red reflection of the
sun gleaming on the blue waters. There was perfect stillness. Pierre
became silent. The raft had long since stopped and only the waves of the
current beat softly against it below. Prince Andrew felt as if the sound
of the waves kept up a refrain to Pierre’s words, whispering:
“It is true, believe it.”
He sighed, and glanced with a radiant, childlike, tender look at
Pierre’s face, flushed and rapturous, but yet shy before his superior
friend.
“Yes, if it only were so!” said Prince Andrew. “However, it is
time to get on,” he added, and, stepping off the raft, he looked up
at the sky to which Pierre had pointed, and for the first time since
Austerlitz saw that high, everlasting sky he had seen while lying on
that battlefield; and something that had long been slumbering, something
that was best within him, suddenly awoke, joyful and youthful, in his
soul. It vanished as soon as he returned to the customary conditions
of his life, but he knew that this feeling which he did not know how to
develop existed within him. His meeting with Pierre formed an epoch in
Prince Andrew’s life. Though outwardly he continued to live in the
same old way, inwardly he began a new life.
CHAPTER XIII
It was getting dusk when Prince Andrew and Pierre drove up to the front
entrance of the house at Bald Hills. As they approached the house,
Prince Andrew with a smile drew Pierre’s attention to a commotion
going on at the back porch. A woman, bent with age, with a wallet on her
back, and a short, long-haired, young man in a black garment had rushed
back to the gate on seeing the carriage driving up. Two women ran out
after them, and all four, looking round at the carriage, ran in dismay
up the steps of the back porch.
“Those are Mary’s ‘God’s folk,’” said Prince Andrew. “They
have mistaken us for my father. This is the one matter in which she
disobeys him. He orders these pilgrims to be driven away, but she
receives them.”
“But what are ‘God’s folk’?” asked Pierre.
Prince Andrew had no time to answer. The servants came out to meet them,
and he asked where the old prince was and whether he was expected back
soon.
The old prince had gone to the town and was expected back any minute.
Prince Andrew led Pierre to his own apartments, which were always kept
in perfect order and readiness for him in his father’s house; he
himself went to the nursery.
“Let us go and see my sister,” he said to Pierre when he returned.
“I have not found her yet, she is hiding now, sitting with her
‘God’s folk.’ It will serve her right, she will be confused, but
you will see her ‘God’s folk.’ It’s really very curious.”
“What are ‘God’s folk’?” asked Pierre.
“Come, and you’ll see for yourself.”
Princess Mary really was disconcerted and red patches came on her face
when they went in. In her snug room, with lamps burning before the icon
stand, a young lad with a long nose and long hair, wearing a monk’s
cassock, sat on the sofa beside her, behind a samovar. Near them, in an
armchair, sat a thin, shriveled, old woman, with a meek expression on
her childlike face.
“Andrew, why didn’t you warn me?” said the princess, with mild
reproach, as she stood before her pilgrims like a hen before her
chickens.
“Charmée de vous voir. Je suis très contente de vous voir,” * she
said to Pierre as he kissed her hand. She had known him as a child, and
now his friendship with Andrew, his misfortune with his wife, and above
all his kindly, simple face disposed her favorably toward him. She
looked at him with her beautiful radiant eyes and seemed to say, “I
like you very much, but please don’t laugh at my people.” After
exchanging the first greetings, they sat down.
* “Delighted to see you. I am very glad to see you.”
“Ah, and Ivánushka is here too!” said Prince Andrew, glancing with
a smile at the young pilgrim.
“Andrew!” said Princess Mary, imploringly. “Il faut que vous
sachiez que c’est une femme,” * said Prince Andrew to Pierre.
“Andrew, au nom de Dieu!” *(2) Princess Mary repeated.
* “You must know that this is a woman.”
* (2) “For heaven’s sake.”
It was evident that Prince Andrew’s ironical tone toward the pilgrims
and Princess Mary’s helpless attempts to protect them were their
customary long-established relations on the matter.
“Mais, ma bonne amie,” said Prince Andrew, “vous devriez au
contraire m’être reconnaissante de ce que j’explique à Pierre
votre intimité avec ce jeune homme.” *
* “But, my dear, you ought on the contrary to be grateful to
me for explaining to Pierre your intimacy with this young
man.”
“Really?” said Pierre, gazing over his spectacles with curiosity and
seriousness (for which Princess Mary was specially grateful to him) into
Ivánushka’s face, who, seeing that she was being spoken about, looked
round at them all with crafty eyes.
Princess Mary’s embarrassment on her people’s account was quite
unnecessary. They were not in the least abashed. The old woman, lowering
her eyes but casting side glances at the newcomers, had turned her cup
upside down and placed a nibbled bit of sugar beside it, and sat
quietly in her armchair, though hoping to be offered another cup of tea.
Ivánushka, sipping out of her saucer, looked with sly womanish eyes
from under her brows at the young men.
“Where have you been? To Kiev?” Prince Andrew asked the old woman.
“I have, good sir,” she answered garrulously. “Just at
Christmastime I was deemed worthy to partake of the holy and heavenly
sacrament at the shrine of the saint. And now I’m from Kolyázin,
master, where a great and wonderful blessing has been revealed.”
“And was Ivánushka with you?”
“I go by myself, benefactor,” said Ivánushka, trying to speak in a
bass voice. “I only came across Pelagéya in Yúkhnovo....”
Pelagéya interrupted her companion; she evidently wished to tell what
she had seen.
“In Kolyázin, master, a wonderful blessing has been revealed.”
“What is it? Some new relics?” asked Prince Andrew.
“Andrew, do leave off,” said Princess Mary. “Don’t tell him,
Pelagéya.”
“No... why not, my dear, why shouldn’t I? I like him. He is kind,
he is one of God’s chosen, he’s a benefactor, he once gave me ten
rubles, I remember. When I was in Kiev, Crazy Cyril says to me (he’s
one of God’s own and goes barefoot summer and winter), he says,
‘Why are you not going to the right place? Go to Kolyázin where a
wonder-working icon of the Holy Mother of God has been revealed.’ On
hearing those words I said good-by to the holy folk and went.”
All were silent, only the pilgrim woman went on in measured tones,
drawing in her breath.
“So I come, master, and the people say to me: ‘A great blessing has
been revealed, holy oil trickles from the cheeks of our blessed Mother,
the Holy Virgin Mother of God.’...”
“All right, all right, you can tell us afterwards,” said Princess
Mary, flushing.
“Let me ask her,” said Pierre. “Did you see it yourselves?” he
inquired.
“Oh, yes, master, I was found worthy. Such a brightness on the face
like the light of heaven, and from the blessed Mother’s cheek it drops
and drops....”
“But, dear me, that must be a fraud!” said Pierre, naïvely, who had
listened attentively to the pilgrim.
“Oh, master, what are you saying?” exclaimed the horrified
Pelagéya, turning to Princess Mary for support.
“They impose on the people,” he repeated.
“Lord Jesus Christ!” exclaimed the pilgrim woman, crossing herself.
“Oh, don’t speak so, master! There was a general who did not
believe, and said, ‘The monks cheat,’ and as soon as he’d said it
he went blind. And he dreamed that the Holy Virgin Mother of the Kiev
catacombs came to him and said, ‘Believe in me and I will make you
whole.’ So he begged: ‘Take me to her, take me to her.’ It’s the
real truth I’m telling you, I saw it myself. So he was brought, quite
blind, straight to her, and he goes up to her and falls down and says,
‘Make me whole,’ says he, ‘and I’ll give thee what the Tsar
bestowed on me.’ I saw it myself, master, the star is fixed into the
icon. Well, and what do you think? He received his sight! It’s a sin
to speak so. God will punish you,” she said admonishingly, turning to
Pierre.
“How did the star get into the icon?” Pierre asked.
“And was the Holy Mother promoted to the rank of general?” said
Prince Andrew, with a smile.
Pelagéya suddenly grew quite pale and clasped her hands.
“Oh, master, master, what a sin! And you who have a son!” she began,
her pallor suddenly turning to a vivid red. “Master, what have you
said? God forgive you!” And she crossed herself. “Lord forgive him!
My dear, what does it mean?...” she asked, turning to Princess
Mary. She got up and, almost crying, began to arrange her wallet. She
evidently felt frightened and ashamed to have accepted charity in a
house where such things could be said, and was at the same time sorry to
have now to forgo the charity of this house.
“Now, why need you do it?” said Princess Mary. “Why did you come
to me?...”
“Come, Pelagéya, I was joking,” said Pierre. “Princesse, ma
parole, je n’ai pas voulu l’offenser. * I did not mean anything,
I was only joking,” he said, smiling shyly and trying to efface his
offense. “It was all my fault, and Andrew was only joking.”
* “Princess, on my word, I did not wish to offend her.”
Pelagéya stopped doubtfully, but in Pierre’s face there was such a
look of sincere penitence, and Prince Andrew glanced so meekly now at
her and now at Pierre, that she was gradually reassured.
CHAPTER XIV
The pilgrim woman was appeased and, being encouraged to talk, gave a
long account of Father Amphilochus, who led so holy a life that his
hands smelled of incense, and how on her last visit to Kiev some monks
she knew let her have the keys of the catacombs, and how she, taking
some dried bread with her, had spent two days in the catacombs with
the saints. “I’d pray awhile to one, ponder awhile, then go on to
another. I’d sleep a bit and then again go and kiss the relics, and
there was such peace all around, such blessedness, that one don’t want
to come out, even into the light of heaven again.”
Pierre listened to her attentively and seriously. Prince Andrew went out
of the room, and then, leaving “God’s folk” to finish their tea,
Princess Mary took Pierre into the drawing room.
“You are very kind,” she said to him.
“Oh, I really did not mean to hurt her feelings. I understand them so
well and have the greatest respect for them.”
Princess Mary looked at him silently and smiled affectionately.
“I have known you a long time, you see, and am as fond of you as of a
brother,” she said. “How do you find Andrew?” she added hurriedly,
not giving him time to reply to her affectionate words. “I am very
anxious about him. His health was better in the winter, but last spring
his wound reopened and the doctor said he ought to go away for a
cure. And I am also very much afraid for him spiritually. He has not a
character like us women who, when we suffer, can weep away our sorrows.
He keeps it all within him. Today he is cheerful and in good spirits,
but that is the effect of your visit—he is not often like that. If
you could persuade him to go abroad. He needs activity, and this quiet