Война и мир

Chapter 7

           

           Afterreceivingthisnewslateintheevening,whenhewasaloneinhisstudy,theoldprincewentforhiswalkasusualnextmorning,buthewassilentwithhissteward,thegardener,andthearchitect,andthoughhelookedverygrimhesaidnothingtoanyone.

           WhenPrincessMarywenttohimattheusualhourhewasworkingathislatheand,asusual,didnotlookroundather.

           “Ah,PrincessMary!”hesaidsuddenlyinanunnaturalvoice,throwingdownhischisel.(Thewheelcontinuedtorevolvebyitsownimpetus,andPrincessMarylongrememberedthedyingcreakofthatwheel,whichmergedinhermemorywithwhatfollowed.)

           Sheapproachedhim,sawhisface,andsomethinggavewaywithinher.Hereyesgrewdim.Bytheexpressionofherfather’sface,notsad,notcrushed,butangryandworkingunnaturally,shesawthathangingoverherandabouttocrushherwassometerriblemisfortune,theworstinlife,oneshehadnotyetexperienced,irreparableandincomprehensible—thedeathofonesheloved.

           “Father!Andrew!”—saidtheungraceful,awkwardprincesswithsuchanindescribablecharmofsorrowandself-forgetfulnessthatherfathercouldnotbearherlookbutturnedawaywithasob.

           “Badnews!He’snotamongtheprisonersnoramongthekilled!Kutúzovwrites...”andhescreamedaspiercinglyasifhewishedtodrivetheprincessawaybythatscream...“Killed!”

           Theprincessdidnotfalldownorfaint.Shewasalreadypale,butonhearingthesewordsherfacechangedandsomethingbrightenedinherbeautiful,radianteyes.

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