Chapter 22 Chapter Twenty Two

That evening Pierre went to the Rostovs' house in order to carry out the task which had been entrusted to him.Natasha was lying on her sickbed, the count was at the club, Pierre handed over the letter to Sonya, and then went to Marya Dmitrievna, who was curious to know what Prince Andrey's opinion of the news of the divorce was. manner.Ten minutes later Sonia went into Marya Dmitrievna's room and went to see her. "Natasha must see Count Pyotr Kirillovitch," she said. "Why, are you taking him to her? Your place isn't ready yet," said Marya Dmitrievna. "No, she dressed and went into the drawing room," said Sonia.

Marya Dmitrievna could only shrug her shoulders. "When the countess came here, I was tormented. Be careful not to tell her everything," she said, turning to Pierre. "How dare you scold her, she is so pitiful, so pitiful!" Natasha, very thin, pale and serious (not at all shy, as Pierre had expected), stood in the middle of the drawing-room.When Pierre appeared at the door, she was disturbed, and it was obvious that she hesitated, whether to go to him, or to wait for him to come. Pierre hurried up to her.She would, he thought, hold out her hand to him as usual, but when she came nearer she stopped, out of breath, and dropped her hands stiffly, as though she had come into the middle of the hall to sing, but There was a completely different expression on her face.

"Peter Kirilech," she began quickly, "Prince Bolkonsky was your friend, and he is your friend now," she corrected (as if it seemed to her that all this was a passing day, It's all different now), "At that time he said to me, asking me to beg you..." Pierre watched her, snorting silently.Until now he had blamed her in his own heart and despised her as much as he could, but now he felt so much pity for her that there was no room for him to blame her. "While he's still here, tell him...ask him to forgive...forgive me." She stopped and began to breathe more and more quickly, but she didn't cry.

"Yes . . . I will tell him," said Pierre, "but . . . " He did not know what to say. Natasha was obviously worried about the idea of ​​that in Pierre's head. "No, I know, it's all over," she said hastily. "No, it's impossible. It's just that I did something bad to him, and it hurts me. All I have to do is tell him, I ask him to forgive, forgive, forgive me for everything..." She trembled. , just sit down on the chair. A pity that Pierre had never experienced had filled his soul. "I will tell him that I will tell him all this again," said Pierre, "but . . . I want to know something . . . "

"What do you want to know?" Natasha's eyes were asking... "I wish to know whether you loved..." Pierre, who did not know what to call Anatole, flushed at the thought of him, "did you ever love this villain?" "Don't call him a villain," said Natasha. "But I don't know anything..." She cried again. Feelings of pity, tenderness, and love became more and more powerful over Pierre.He heard his tears trickle under his spectacles, so he hoped not to be seen. "We shall not speak any more, my friend," said Pierre. Natasha suddenly found his soft, tender, earnest voice very strange.

"We're off my friend, I'm going to tell him all this, but I'm asking you for one thing - consider me a friend. If you need help, advice, or just someone to confide in , not at the moment, but when your heart is bright, you have to think about me." He grabbed her hand and kissed it. "If I could... I would be happy." Pierre shyly said. "Don't tell me that, I'm not worthy!" cried Natasha, trying to leave the room, but Pierre held her back, holding her hand.He knew that he still needed to say something to her.But when he finished that sentence, he was surprised at what he said.

"Don't talk anymore, don't talk anymore, you have a great future," he told her. "Is my future? Not great! Everything is over for me." She said with a shy and self-deprecating mood. "Is it all over?" he repeated. "If I were not myself, but the handsomest, wisest, and best man in the world, and free from restraint, I should immediately be on my knees and propose to you." Natasha shed tears of gratitude and emotion for the first time after many days, glanced at Pierre, and left the room. Pierre followed her almost into the anteroom, and, holding back the tears of emotion and happiness that choked his throat, without putting his hands in his sleeves, he put on his fur coat and sat down on the table. up the sled.

"Excuse me, where are you going now?" asked the coachman. "Where are you going?" Pierre asked himself. "Where are you going now? To the club or as a guest?" Contrast the emotion of deep emotion and admiration he experienced, with the kind, Compared with the eyes of gratitude, everyone looks so humble and pitiful. "Go home," said Pierre, opening his bearskin jacket despite the temperature being ten degrees below zero, revealing his broad, joyously breathing chest. It was sunny and very cold.Above the filthy half-lit streets, above the black roofs, stretched a dusky star-strewn sky.Only when Pierre kept looking at the night sky did he not feel that all earthly things were humiliatingly humble compared with the height of his soul.When entering Arbat Square, Pierre saw a vast and dim starry sky before his eyes.The great and bright comet of 1812 was just above the Boulevard of the Holy Land, hanging almost in the middle of the sky, surrounded by a dense mass of stars, which differed from the others in that it approached A white light radiates from the ground, and its long tail is raised upwards. It is said that it is the comet that heralds all disasters and the end of the world.But this bright comet with its long tail in Pierre's mind did not arouse any sense of terror.On the contrary, Pierre cheerfully opened his tear-drenched eyes and gazed at the bright comet, which seemed to be flying through the vastness of space along a parabola with indescribable speed. Suddenly, like a sharp arrow shot into the ground, it wedged itself into the place it chose in the dark sky, stopped still, it raised its tail with all its strength, and showed off its white light among countless twinkling stars .It seemed to Pierre that this comet coincided perfectly with his soul, which was exuberant, softened and inspired.