 War and Peace, Book 12, Chapter 14, Recording for LibriVox.org, by Eva Harnick. When Princess Mary heard from Nicholas that her brother was with the Rostovs at Yaroslav, she at once prepared to go there in spite of her aunt's efforts to dissuade her and not merely to go herself but to take her nephew with her. Whether it were difficult or easy, possible or impossible, she did not ask and did not want to know. It was her duty, not only herself to be near her brother, who was perhaps dying, but to do everything possible to take his son to him and so she prepared to set off. That she had not heard from Prince Andrew himself, Princess Mary attributed to his being too weak to right or to his considering the long journey too hard and too dangerous for her and his son. In a few days Princess Mary was ready to start. Her ekipage were the huge family coach in which she had travelled to Vorosnes, a semi-open trap and a baggage cart. With her travelled Mademoiselle Burien, little Nicholas and his tutor, her old nurse, three maids, Tikhon and a young footman and courier her aunt had sent to accompany her. The usual route through Moscow could not be sought of and the roundabout way Princess Mary was obliged to take through Lipetsk, Ryazan, Vladimir and Shueya was very long and as post horses were not everywhere obtainable, very difficult and near Ryazan where the French were said to have shown themselves was even dangerous. During this difficult journey Mademoiselle Burien, Dessals and Princess Mary's servants were astonished at her energy and frownness of spirit. She went to bed later and rose earlier than any of them and no difficulties dawned at her. Thanks to her activity and energy which infected her fellow travellers they approached Yaroslav by the end of the second week. The last day of her stay in Vorones had been the happiest of her life. Her love for Rostov no longer tormented or agitated her. It filled her whole soul, had become an integral part of herself and she no longer struggled against it. Laterally she had become convinced that she loved and was beloved though she never said this definitely to herself in words. She had become convinced of it at her last interview with Nicholas when he had come to tell her that her brother was with the Rostovs. Not by a single word had Nicholas alluded to the fact that Prince Andrew's relations with Natasha might if he recovered be renewed but Princess Mary saw by his face that he knew and sought of this. Yet in spite of that his relation to her, considered delicate and loving, not only remained unchanged but it sometimes seemed to Princess Mary that he was even glad that the family connection between them allowed him to express his friendship more freely. She knew that she loved for the first and only time in her life and felt that she was beloved and was happy in regard to it. But this happiness on one side of her spiritual nature did not prevent her feeling grief for her brother with full force. On the contrary, that spiritual tranquility on the one side made it the more possible for her to give full play to her feeling for her brother. That feeling was so strong at the moment of leaving Varanias that those who saw her off as they looked at her cav-on despairing face felt sure she would fall ill on the journey. But the very difficulties and preoccupations of the journey which she took so actively in hand saved her for a while from her grief and gave her strength. As always happens when travelling, Princess Mary sought only of the journey itself forgetting its object. But as she approached Yaroslav the thought of what might await her there. Not after many days but that very evening again presented itself to her and her agitation increased to its utmost limit. The courier who had been sent on in advance to find out where the Rostovs were staying in Yaroslav and in what condition Prince Andrew was when he met the big coach just entering the town gates was appalled by the terrible pallor of the princess's face that looked out at him from the window. I have found out everything, Your Excellency. The Rostovs are staying at the merchant Bronikov's house in the square, not far from here, right above the Volga, said the courier. Princess Mary looked at him with frightened inquiry, not understanding why he did not reply to what she chiefly wanted to know how was her brother. But Mirzel Burien put that question for her. How is the prince? she asked. His Excellency staying in the same house with them. Then he's alive, said Princess Mary, and asked in a low voice. How is he? The servants say he's still the same. What still the same might mean Princess Mary did not ask. But with an unnoticed glance at little seven-year-old Nicholas, who was sitting in front of her, looking with pleasure at the town, she bowed her head and did not raise it again till the heavy coach, rumbling, shaking and swaying, came to a stop. The carriage steps clattered as they were let down. The carriage door was opened. On the left there was water, a great river, and on the right a porch. There were people at the entrance, servants, and a rosy girl with a large plate of black hair smiling as it seemed to Princess Mary in an unpleasantly affected way. This was Sonya. Princess Mary ran up the steps. This way, this way, said the girl with the same artificial smile, and the princess found herself in the hall facing an elderly woman of oriental type, who came rapidly to meet her with a look of emotion. This was the countess. She embraced Princess Mary and kissed her. Mon enfant, she muttered, je vous aime, et vous connaît depuis longtemps, asterisks. My child, I love you and have known you a long time. Despite her excitement, Princess Mary realized that this was the countess and that it was necessary to say something to her. Hardly knowing how she did it, she contrived to utter a few polite phrases in French in the same tone as those that had been addressed to her, and asked, how is he? The doctor says that he's not in danger, said the countess. But as she spoke, she raised her eyes with a sigh, and her gesture conveyed a contradiction of her words. Where is he? Can I see? Can I ask the princess? One moment, princess, one moment, my dear, is this his son? Said the countess turning to little Nicholas, who was coming in with the cells. There will be room for everybody. This is a big house. Oh, what a lovely boy. The countess took Princess Mary into the drawing room where Sonia was talking to Mademoiselle Burien. The countess caressed the boy, and the old count came in and welcomed the princess. He had changed very much since Princess Mary had last seen him. Then he had been a brisk, cheerful, self-assured old man. Now he seemed a pitiful, bewildered person. While talking to Princess Mary, he continually looked round as if asking everyone whether he was doing the right thing. After the destruction of Moscow and of his property thrown out of his accustomed groove, he seemed to have lost the sense of his own significance and to feel that there was no longer a place for him in life. In spite of her one desire to see her brother as soon as possible and her vexation, that at the moment when all she wanted was to see him, they should be trying to entertain her and pretending to admire her nephew. The princess noticed all that was going on around her and felt the necessity of submitting for a time to this new order of things which she had entered. She knew it to be necessary, and though it was hard for her, she was not vexed with these people. This is my niece, said the Count, introducing Sonja. You don't know her, Princess. Princess Mary turned to Sonja and trying to stifle the hostile feeling that aroused in her toward the girl she kissed her. But she felt oppressed by the fact that the mood of everyone around her was so far from what was in her own heart. Where is he? she asked again, addressing them all. He's downstairs. Natasha is with him, answered Sonja, flushing. We have sent to ask. I think you must be tired, Princess. Tears of vexation showed themselves in Princess Mary's eyes. She turned away and was about to ask the Countess again how to go to him when light impetuous and seemingly buoyant steps were heard at the door. The princess looked round and saw Natasha coming in, almost running. That Natasha, whom she had liked so little at their meeting in Moscow, long since. But hardly had the princess looked at Natasha's face before she realized that here was a real comrade in her grief and consequently a friend. She ran to meet her, embraced her and began to cry on her shoulder. As soon as Natasha, sitting at the head of Prince Andrew's bed, heard of Princess Mary's arrival she softly left his room and hastened to her with those swift steps that had sounded buoyant to Princess Mary. There was only one expression on her agitated face when she ran into the drawing room that of love, boundless love for him, for her and for all that was near to the man she loved. And of pity, suffering for others and passionate desire to give herself entirely to helping them. It was plain that at that moment there was in Natasha's heart no sort of herself or of her own relations with Prince Andrew. Princess Mary, with her acute sensibility, understood all this at the first glance at Natasha's face and wept on her shoulder with sorrowful pleasure. Come, come to him, Mary, said Natasha, leading her into the other room. Princess Mary raised her head, dried her eyes and turned to Natasha. She felt that from her she would be able to understand and learn everything. How? She began her question but stopped short. She felt that it was impossible to ask or to answer in words. Natasha's face, eyes would have to tell her all more clearly and profoundly. Natasha was gazing at her but seemed afraid and in doubt whether to say all she knew or not. She seemed to feel that before those luminous eyes which penetrated into the very depths of her heart it was impossible not to tell the whole truth which she saw. And suddenly Natasha's lips twitched, ugly wrinkles gathered round her mouth and covering her face with her hands she burst into sobs. Princess Mary understood but she still hoped and asked in words she herself did not trust. But how is his wound? What is his general condition? You, you'll see, was all Natasha could say. They sat a little while downstairs near his room till they had left of crying and were able to go to him with calm faces. How has his whole illness gone? Is it long since he grew worse? When did this happen? Princess Mary inquired. Natasha told her that at first there had been danger from his feverish condition and the pain he suffered. But at Troitsa that had passed and the doctor had only been afraid of gangrene. That danger had also passed. When they reached Yaroslav the wound had began to fester. Natasha knew all about such things as festering and the doctor had said that the festering might take a normal course. Then fever set in but the doctor had said the fever was not very serious. But two days ago this suddenly happened said Natasha struggling with her sobs. I don't know why but you will see what he's like. Is he weak, sinner? Asked the princess. No, it is not that but worse. You'll see. Oh Mary, he's too good. He cannot, cannot live because end of chapter 14, recording by Eva Harnick, Ponte Vedra, Florida. War and Peace, Book 12, Chapter 15, recording for LibriVox.org by Eva Harnick. When Natasha opened Prince Andrew's door with a familiar movement and let Princess Mary pass into the room before her, the princess felt the sobs in her throat. Hard as she had tried to prepare herself and now tried to remain tranquil. She knew that she would be unable to look at him without tears. The princess understood what Natasha had meant by the words two days ago this suddenly happened. She understood those words to mean that he had suddenly softened and that this softening and gentleness was signs of approaching death. As she stepped to the door, she already saw in imagination Andrew's face as she remembered it. In childhood, a gentle, mild, sympathetic face which he had rarely shown and which therefore affected her very strongly, she was sure he would speak soft tender words to her such as her father had uttered before his death and that she would not be able to bear it and would burst into sobs in his presence. Yet sooner or later it had to be and she went in. The sobs rose higher and higher in her throat as she more and more clearly distinguished his form and her short-sighted eyes tried to make out his features and then she saw his face and met his gaze. He was lying in a squirrel fur dressing gown on a divan surrounded by pillows. He was thin and pale. In one thin, translucently white hand he held a handkerchief while with the other he stroked a delicate moustache he had grown moving his fingers slowly. His eyes gazed at them as they entered. On seeing his face and meeting his eyes, Princess Mary's face suddenly slackened. She felt her tears dry up and her sobs seized. She suddenly felt guilty and grew timid on catching the expression of his face and eyes. But in what am I to blame she asked herself and his cold stern look replied because you are alive and thinking of the living while I. In the deep gaze that seemed to look not outwards but inwards there was an almost hostile expression as he slowly regarded his sister and Natasha. He kissed his sister holding her hand in his as was their want. How are you, Mary? How did you manage to get here? Said he in a voice as calm and aloof as his look. Had he screamed in agony that scream would not have stuck such horror into Princess Mary's heart as the tone of his voice. And have you brought little Nicholas? He asked in the same slow, quiet manner and with an obvious effort to remember. How are you now? Said Princess Mary, herself surprised at what she was saying. That, my dear, you must ask the doctor. He replied and again making an evident effort to be affectionate. He said with his lips only his words clearly did not correspond to his thoughts. Merci, cher ami, d'être venu. Asterik, thank you for coming, my dear. Princess Mary pressed his hand. The pressure made him wins just perceptibly. He was silent and she did not know what to say. She now understood what had happened to him two days before. In his words, his tone and especially in that calm, almost antagonistic look could be felt an estrangement from everything belonging to this world. Terrible in one who is alive. Evidently, only with an effort did he understand anything living. But it was obvious that he failed to understand not because he lacked the power to do so, but because he understood something else, something the living did not and could not understand and which wholly occupied his mind. There, you see, how strangely fate has brought us together, said he, breaking the silence and pointing to Natasha. She looks after me all the time. Princess Mary heard him and did not understand how he could say such a thing. He, the sensitive tender Prince Andrew, how could he say that before her whom he loved and who loved him? Had he expected to live, he could not have said those words in that offensively cold tone. If he had not known that he was dying, how could he have failed to pity her and how could he speak like that in her presence? The only explanation was that he was indifferent because something else much more important had been revealed to him. The conversation was cold and disconnected and continually broke off. Mary came by way of Ria-san, said Natasha. Prince Andrew did not notice that she called his sister Mary and only after calling her so in his presence did Natasha notice it herself. Really, he asked. They told her that all Moscow had been burned down and that Natasha stopped. It was impossible to talk. It was plain that he was making an effort to listen but could not do so. Yes, they say it is burned, he said. It is a great pity. He gazed straight before him, absently stroking his moustache with his fingers. And so you have met Count Nicholas, Mary. Prince Andrew suddenly said, evidently wishing to speak pleasantly to them. He wrote here that he took a great liking to you. He went on simply and calmly, evidently unable to understand all the complex significance his words had for living people. If you liked him too, it would be a good thing for you to get married. He added rather more quickly as if pleased at having found words he had long been seeking. Princess Mary heard his words but they had no meaning for her, except as a proof of how far away he now was from everything living. Why talk of me, she said quietly and glanced at Natasha. Natasha who felt her glance did not look at her. All three were against silent. Andrew, would you like? Princess Mary suddenly said in a trembling voice, would you like to see little Nicholas? He's always talking about you. Prince Andrew smiled just perceptibly and for the first time. But Princess Mary, who knew his face so well, saw with horror that he did not smile with pleasure for affection for his son but with quiet, gentle irony because he thought she was trying what she believed to be the last means of arousing him. Yes, I shall be very glad to see him. Is he quite well? When little Nicholas was brought into Prince Andrew's room, he looked at his father with frightened eyes and did not cry because no one else was crying. Prince Andrew kissed him and evidently did not know what to say to him. When Nicholas had been led away, Princess Mary again went up to her brother, kissed him and unable to restrain her tears and he longer began to cry. He looked at her attentively. What about Nicholas, he asked? Princess Mary nodded her head weeping. Mary, you know the gospel, but he broke off. What did you say? Nothing. You mustn't cry here, he said, looking at her with the same cold expression. When Princess Mary began to cry, he understood that she was crying at the thought that little Nicholas would be left without a father. With a great effort he tried to return to life and to see things from their point of view. Yes, to them it must seem sad, he thought, but how simple it is. The fowls of the air sow not, neither do they reap. Yet your father feedeth them. He said to himself and wished to say to Princess Mary, but no, they will take it their own way. They won't understand. They can't understand that all those feelings they price so, all our feelings, all those ideas that seem so important to us, are unnecessary. We cannot understand one another, and he remained silent. Prince Andrew's little son was seven. He could scarcely read and knew nothing. After that day he lived through many things, gaining knowledge, observation, and experience, but had he possessed all the faculties, he afterwards acquired, he could not have had a better or more profound understanding of the meaning of the scene he had witnessed between his father, Mary, and Natasha, then he had then. He understood it completely, and leaving the room without crying silently up to Natasha, who had come out with him and looked shyly at her with his beautiful, thoughtful eyes, then his uplifted rosy upper lip trembled and leaning his head against her, he began to cry. After that he avoided the stars and the countess who caressed him and either sat alone or came timidly to Princess Mary or to Natasha, of whom he seemed even fonder than of his aunt and clung to them quietly and shyly. When Princess Mary had left Prince Andrew, she fully understood what Natasha's face had told her. She did not speak any more to Natasha of hopes of saving his life. She took turns with her beside his sofa and did not cry any more, but prayed continually, turning in soul to that eternal and unfathomable whose presence above the dying man was now so evident. End of chapter 15, recording by Eva Harnick, Pontevedra, Florida. War and Peace, Book 12, Chapter 16, recording for LibriVox.org by Eva Harnick. Not only did Prince Andrew know he would die, but he felt that he was dying and was already half dead. He was conscious of an aloofness from everything earthly that strange and joyous lightness of existence. Without haste or agitation, he awaited what was coming. That inexorable, eternal, distant and unknown the presence of which he had felt continually all his life was now near to him and by the strange lightness he experienced almost comprehensible and palpable. Formerly he had feared the end. He had twice experienced the terribly tormenting fear of death, the end, but now he no longer understood that fear. He had felt it for the first time when the shells spun like a top before him and he looked at the fellow field, the bushes and the sky and knew that he was face to face with death. When he came to himself after being wounded and the flower of eternal unfettered love had instantly unfolded itself in his soul as if freed from the bondage of life that had restrained it, he no longer feared death and ceased to think about it. During the hours of solitude, suffering and partial delirium he spent after he was wounded the more deeply he penetrated into the new principle of eternal love revealed to him the more he unconsciously detached himself from earthly life. To love everything and everybody and always to sacrifice oneself for love meant not to love anyone, not to live this earthly life and the more imbued he became with that principle of love the more he renounced life and the more completely he destroyed that dreadful barrier which in the absence of such love stands between life and death. When during those first days he remembered that he would have to die he said to himself Well, what of it? So much the better. But after that night in Mistishi when half delirious he had seen her for whom he longed appear before him and having pressed her hand to his lips he shed gentle happy tears love for a particular woman again crept unobserved into his heart and once more bound him to life and joyful and agitating thoughts began to occupy his mind Recalling the moment at the ambulance station when he had seen Kuragin he could not now regain the feeling he then had but was tormented by the question whether Kuragin was alive and he dared not inquire his illness pursued its normal physical course but what Natasha referred to when she said this suddenly happened had occurred two days before Princess Mary arrived it was the last spiritual struggle between life and death in which death gained the victory it was the unexpected realization of the fact that he still valued life as presented to him in the form of his love for Natasha and a last though ultimately vanquished attack of terror before the unknown it was evening as usual after dinner he was slightly feverish and his thoughts were preternaturally clear Sonja was sitting by the table he began to doze suddenly a feeling of happiness seized him ah, she has come sought he and so it was in Sonja's place sat Natasha who had just come in noiselessly since she had begun looking after him he had always experienced this physical consciousness of her nearness she was sitting in an armchair placed sideways meaning the light of the candle from him and was knitting a stocking she had learned to knit stockings since Prince Andrew had casually mentioned that no one nursed the sick so well as old nurses who knit stockings and that there is something soothing in the knitting of stockings the needles clicked lightly in her slender rapidly moving hands and he could clearly see the thoughtful profile of her drooping face she moved and the ball rolled off her knees she started glanced round at him and screening the candle with her hand stooped carefully with a supple and exact movement picked up the ball and regained her former position he looked at her without moving and saw that she wanted to draw a deep breath after stooping but refrained from doing so and breathed cautiously at the Troitsa monastery they had spoken of the past and he had told her that if he lived he would always thank God for his wound which had brought them together again but after that they never spoke of the future can it or can it not be he now sought as he looked at her and listened to the light click of the steel needles can fate have brought me to her so strangely only for me to die is it possible that the truth of life has been revealed to me only to show me that I have spent my life in four city I love her more than anything in the world but what am I to do if I love her he sought and he involuntarily groaned from a habit acquired during his suffering on hearing that sound Natasha put down the stalking leaned nearer to him and suddenly noticing his shining eyes stepped lightly up to him and bent over him you are not asleep no, I have been looking at you a long time I felt you come in no one else gives me that sense of soft tranquility that you do that light I want to weep for joy Natasha drew closer to him a face shown with rapturous joy Natasha, I love you too much more than anything in the world and I she turned away for an instant why too much she asked why too much well, what do you what do you feel in your soul your whole soul shall I live what do you think I am sure of it, sure Natasha almost shouted taking hold of both his hands with a passionate movement he remained silent a while how good it would be and taking her hand he kissed it Natasha felt happy and agitated but at once remembered that this would not do and that he had to be quiet but you have not slept she said, repressing her joy try to sleep, please he pressed her hand and released it and she went back to the candle and sat down again in her former position twice she turned and looked at him and her eyes met his beaming at her she set herself a task on her stocking and resolved not to turn round till it was finished soon he really shut his eyes and fell asleep he did not sleep long and suddenly awoke with a start and in a cold perspiration as he fell asleep he had still been thinking of the subject that now always occupied his mind about life and death and chiefly about death he felt himself nearer to it love, what is love? he thought love hinders death love is life all, everything that I understand I understand only because I love everything is everything exists only because I love everything is united by it alone love is God and to die means that I, a particle of love shall return to the general and eternal source these thoughts seemed to him comforting but they were only thoughts something was lacking in them they were not clear they were too one-sidedly personal and brain-spun and there was the former agitation and obscurity he fell asleep he dreamed that he was lying in the room he really was in but he was quite well and unwounded many various indifferent and insignificant people appeared before him he talked to them and discussed something trivial they were preparing to go away somewhere Prince Andrew dimly realized that all this was trivial and that he had more important cares but he continued to speak surprising them by empty witticism gradually unnoticed all these persons began to disappear and a single question that of the closed door superseded all else he rose and went to the door to bolt and lock it everything depended on whether he was or was not in time to lock it he went and tried to hurry but his legs refused to move and he knew he would not be in time to lock the door though he painfully strained all his powers he was seized by an agonizing fear and that fear was the fear of death it stood behind the door but just when he was clumsily creeping toward the door the dreadful something on the other side was already pressing against it and forcing its way in something not human death was breaking in through the door and had to be kept out he seized the door making a finer effort to hold it back to lock it was no longer possible but his efforts were weak and clumsy and the door pushed from behind by the terror opened and closed again once again it pushed from outside his last superhuman efforts were vain and both halves of the door noiselessly opened it entered and it was death and Prince Andrew died but at the instant he died Prince Andrew remembered that he was asleep and the very instant he died having made an effort he awoke yes it was death I died and woke up yes death is an awakening and all at once it grew light in his soul and the veil that had till then concealed the unknown was lifted from his spiritual vision he felt as if power still then confined within him had been liberated and that strange lightness did not again leave him when waking in a cold perspiration he moved on the divan Natasha went up and asked him what was the matter he did not answer and looked at her strangely not understanding that was what had happened to him two days before Princess Mary's arrival from that day as the doctor expressed it the wasting fever assumed a malignant character but what the doctor said did not interest Natasha she saw the terrible moral symptoms which to her were more convincing from that day an awakening from life came to Prince Andrew together with his awakening from sleep and compared to the duration of life it did not seem to him slower than an awakening from sleep compared to the duration of a dream there was nothing terrible or violent in this comparatively slow awakening his last days and hours passed in an ordinary and simple way both Princess Mary and Natasha who did not leave him felt this they did not weep or shudder and during these last days they themselves felt that they were not attending on him he was no longer there he had left them but on what reminded them most closely of him his body both felt this so strongly that the outward and terrible side of death did not affect them and they did not feel it necessary to foment their grief neither in his presence nor out of it did they weep nor did they ever talk to one another about him they felt that they could not express in words what they understood they both saw that he was sinking slowly and quietly deeper and deeper away from them and they both knew that this had to be so and it was right he confessed and received communion everyone came to take leave of him when they brought his son to him he pressed his lips to the boys and turned away not because he felt it hard and sad Princess Mary and Natasha understood that but simply because he sought it was all that was required of him but when they told him to bless the boy he did what was demanded and looked round as if asking whether there was anything else he should do when the last convulsions of the body which the spirit was leaving occurred Princess Mary and Natasha were present is it over said Princess Mary when his body had for a few minutes lay motionless growing cold before them Natasha went up looked at the dead eyes and hastened to close them she closed them but did not kiss them but clung to that which reminded her most nearly of him his body where has he gone where is he now when the body washed and dressed lay in the coffin on a table everyone came to take leave of him and they all wept little Nicholas cried because his heart was rent by painful perplexity the Countess and Sonia cried from pity for Natasha and because he was no more the old Count cried because he felt that before long he too must take the same terrible step Natasha and Princess Mary also wept now but not because of their own personal grief they wept with a reverent and softening emotion which had taken possession of their souls at the consciousness of the simple and solemn mystery of death that had been accomplished in their presence End of chapter 16 and the war and peace Book 12 by Leo Tolstoy Recording by Eva Harnick, Pontevedra, Florida This recording is in the public domain