Chapter Summaries: Dole: Nikolai goes home on furlough. Arrival. Greetings. Sonya's beauty. Reception of Denisof. The next morning. Natasha's delight. Natasha burns her arm for Sonya. Nikolai's decision concerning Sonya. Natasha determines to be a ballet-dancer. Nikolai and Sonya. Denisof surprises Nikolai.
Briggs: Nikolay brings Denisov home on leave.
Maude: Nicholas home on leave
Pevear and Volkhonsky: Nikolai brings Denisov home to Moscow on leave.
Translation:
Volume the Second Part the First. I. At the beginning of the year 1806, Nikolay Rostov returned on vacation. Denisov also rode home to Voronezh, and Rostov persuaded him to go with himself to Moscow and stay at his house. At the penultimate station, meeting his friend, Denisov drank with him three bottles of wine and drove to Moscow, despite the potholes in the roads, not waking up, lying in the bottom of the messenger’s sledge beside Rostov, who, at least at the approximations of Moscow, became all the more and more impatient. "Whether it is soon? Whether it is soon? Oh, these unbearable streets, benches, kalachi, lanterns, and cab drivers!" thought Rostov, when now they recorded being let go at the outpost and entered into Moscow. — Denisov, we have arrived! Sleeping! — he said, to all his body served forward, as if by this position he hoped to speed up the move of the sledges. Denisov did not respond. — Here is the corner of the crossroads, where Zahar the cabman stands; here Zahar and all that same horse. Here is the bench where gingerbread is bought. Whether it is soon? Well! — Which home is that? — asked the driver. — Yes out at the end, the big one, how can you not see it! This is our house, — spoke Rostov, —this is our house! — Denisov! Denisov! Now come on. Denisov raised his head, cleared his throat and did not reply. — Dmitry, — turned Rostov to the lackey in irradiation. —Why do we have this fire? — So exactly from daddy’s office it glows. — Still not lied down? Ah? How do you think? — Look again and do not forget, immediately get my new Hungarian, — added Rostov, palpating his new mustache. — Well, go already — he shouted to the driver. — And wake up already, Vasya, — he approached to Denisov, who again lowered his head. — And well, go already, three rubles in vodka, go! — shouted Rostov, when now the sleigh was behind three homes from the entrance. To him it seemed that the horses did not move. Finally the sleigh took him to the right to the entrance; above his head Rostov saw the familiar cornice with broken plaster, porch, and sidewalk pillar. He jumped out of the sledge and ran to the canopy. The house also stood still, heartless, as if it was not its affairs who arrived at it. At the canopy was no one. "My God! Are all of them safe?" thought Rostov, with a fading heart stopping for a moment and immediately getting down by running farther by the hall and the familiar, crooked steps. All the same that door knob lock, for its impurity angering the countess, also weakly opened. In the front burned a lone greasy candle. Old man Mihayl slept on the chest. Prokofiy, the entrance lackey, who was so strong that behind his back he lifted a carriage, sat and knitted bast shoes. He looked at the opened door, and his indifferent, sleeping expression suddenly transformed into enthusiastically scared. — Father, lights! The young count! — he cried out, upon learning of the young baron. — What is this? My darling! — and Prokofiy, shaking from unrest, rushed to the door in the living room, probably to declare, but it was seen with more thought he returned backwards and fell to the shoulder of the young baron. — Healthy? — asked Rostov, pulling out at his hand. — Thank God! Thank God for everything! Now they have only eaten! Give yourself a look, your excellency! — All really safe? — Thank God, thank God! Rostov, forgetting completely about Denisov, not wishing anyone to give a warning themselves, threw off his fur coat and on tiptoe ran in the dark, big hall. All the same, those same gambling tables, that same chandelier in its case; but someone already saw the young baron, and not having time for him to run to the living room, as something as swift as a storm, taking off from the side door and embracing and began kissing him. Still another, a third such the same being broke through from another, a third door; more embraces, more kisses, more shouting, tears of joy. He could not make out where and who was papa, who was Natasha, and who was Petya. All shouted, spoke and kissed him in one and that same time. Only mother was not in their number — this he remembered. — Ah I did not know that... Nikolushka... my friend! — Here he is... ours... my friend, Kolya... changed! No candles! Tea! — And kiss me! — Darling... but me. Sonya, Natasha, Petya, Anna Mihaylovna, Vera, and the old count embraced him; and people and maids, filling up the room, sentenced and gasped. Petya hung on his legs. — But me! — he shouted. Natasha, after this, as she, bending down him to herself, kissed all of his face, bounced off from him and held his Hungarian above the floor, jumped as a donkey in the same location and piercingly screamed. In all parties were brilliant tears of joy, affectionate eyes, in all parties were lips looking for a kiss. Sonya was as red as a kumach, also held for his hand and shone all in his blessed glance, aspiring in his eyes, which she was waiting for. Sonya was now past 16 years-old, and she was very beautiful, especially in this moment of happy, enthusiastic revitalization. She watched him, not lowering her eyes, smiling and holding up breaths. He gratefully looked at her; but all still were waiting and seeking for someone. The old countess had still not exited. And here was heard steps in the doorway. The steps were so quick that this could not be the steps of his mother. But this was her in a new, unfamiliar still to him, stitched without him, dress. All left him, and he ran to her. When they met, she fell on his chest sobbing. She could not raise his face and only pressed his cold laces of his Hungarian. Denisov, noticed by no one, entered into the room, stood here the same and, looking at them, rubbed his eye. — Vasiliy Denisov, friend of your son, — he said, recommending himself to the count, interrogatively watching him. — For mercy I beg. I know, I know, — said the count, kissing and embracing Denisov. — Nikolushka wrote... Natasha, Vera, here is Denisov. Those same happy, enthusiastic faces turned on the furry figure of Denisov and surrounded him. — Darling, Denisov! — screeched Natasha, not remembering herself from delight, jumped to him, hugging and kissing him. All were embarrassed by the act of Natasha. Denisov was also red, but smiled and took the hand of Natasha, kissing him. Denisov took somewhere in the prepared for him room, but the Rostovs all gathered at the sofa about Nikolushki. The old countess, not releasing his hand, which she all the moments kissed, sat with him nearby; the rest, crowding around them, caught each of his movements, words, looks, and not letting down from him the eyes of enthusiastic lovers. The brother and sisters argued and intercepted places from each other to get closer to him, and fought for who would bring tea, handkerchief, and pipe. Rostov was very happy at the love which was shown to him; but the first minute of his meeting was so blessed that his present happiness seemed little, and he was waiting for something more, and more, and more. On another morning newcomers were sleeping from the road to the 10th hour. In the preceding room were lying around sabers, bags, sabretache, disclosed suitcases, and dirty boots. Scrubbed two times with spurs were only what was delivered in the walls. The servants brought wash basins, hot water for a shave and scrubbed dresses. It smelled of tobacco and men. — Hey, Grishka, pipe! — shouted the hoarse voice of Vaski Denisov. — Rostov, get up! Rostov, rubbing his sticky eyes, raised his confused head from the hot pillows. —Ah what, late? — Late, the tenth hour, — was the response of Natasha’s voice, and in the neighboring room was heard rustling starchy dresses, the whisper and laugh of girlish voices, and in a little bit the dissolved door flashed something blue, tapes, black hair and funny faces. This was Natasha with Sonya and Petya, who came to pay a visit as to whether or not they would get up. — Nikolinka, get up! — again was heard the voice of Natasha at the door. — Now! At this time Petya, the first in the room, seeing and grabbing sabers, and testing them excited, as test boys in seeing the warlike elder brother, and forgetting that for the sisters it was indecent to see undressed men, opened the door. — This is your saber? — he shouted. The girls bounced off. Denisov with scared eyes put away his furry legs in the blanket, looking back for help from his friend. The door missed Petya and again shut up. Behind the door was heard a laugh. — Nikolinka, exit in a smock, — spoke the voice of Natasha. — This is your saber? — asked Petya, — Or is this yours? — with obsequious respect he turned to the black mustachioed Denisov. Rostov hastily shod, allotted his bathrobe and got out. Natasha put on one boot with a spur and climbed into another. Sonya spun and only wanted to inflate her dress and to sit down when he got out. Both were in the same, new, blue dress — fresh, rosy, and funny. Sonya ran away, but Natasha, taking her brother under the arm, led him to the sofa, and at it began a conversation. They had not the time to ask each other and respond to the questions about thousands of little things which could interest only them alone. Natasha laughed at every word which he spoke and which she said, not because that it was funny what they said, but because of how she was funny and it was not in her forces to hold her joys and not express laughter. — Ah, how okay, fine! — she sentenced to all. Rostov felt, as under the influence of the hot rays of love, for the first time in one and a half years, in his soul and on his face bloomed that children’s smile, which he had not once smiled with those since he had left from home. — No, listen, — she said, — You now are really a man? I am terribly happy that you are my brother. — she touched his mustache. — I want to know, what are you men? Are you such as we are? No? — From what did Sonya run away? — asked Rostov. — Yes. This is still a whole story! How will you speak with Sonya? “You” or formal “you”? — As will happen, — said Rostov. — Say to her the formal “you”, please, I say this after you. — And what again? — Well, I now say. You know that Sonya is my friend, such a friend that I burned my arm for her. Here look. — she rolled up her muslin sleeve and showed her long, lean and tender arm below her shoulder, much higher than the elbow (at this location which was closed by ballroom dresses) red mark. — This I burned, so that to prove my love. Simply lit the ruler on fire, yes and pressed. Sitting in their previous cool room, on a couch with pads on the handles, and looking at these frantic, lively eyes of Natasha, Rostov again entered into that family, childish world, which had no sense, besides anyone but him, but which delivered to him alone the best pleasures in life; and burning an arm with a ruler, for the testimony of love, seemed to him not useless: he understood and was not surprised by that. — So what again? Alone? — he asked. — Well, so friendly, so friendly! This is that nonsense — ruler; but we are forever friends. She has fallen in love forever; but I do not understand this, I forget now. — Well so what again? — Yes, so she loves me and you. — Natasha suddenly blushed. — Well you remember, before the departure... so she speaks, that you all of this have forgotten... she said: I will love him always, but he will be let free. Because really, this is fine and noble! — Yes, yes? Very noble? Yes? — asked Natasha so seriously and excitedly that it was seen that what she said now, she said before him with tears. Rostov thought. — I will not take back those words, — he said. — And then, Sonya is such a beauty that what fool will refuse from her happiness? — No, no, — screamed Natasha. — About this we have already talked. We knew that this is what you would say. But this cannot be because how, we understand, should you so speak — you think yourself related in a word, exiting, how she as if on purpose said this. The exit that you, all the same, force on her to marry, and exiting is really not that. Rostov saw how all this was well invented by them. Sonya yesterday had struck him with her beauty. Now, seeing her caught, she seemed to him still better. She was a lovely 16 year old girl, obviously passionately his affectionate (at this he did not doubt at this moment). From what again did he not love her now, and not to marry her even, thought Rostov, but... “Now there are still so many other joys and activities! Yes, this is perfect thinking," he thought, "I need to stay free." — Well perfect, — he said, — after the talk. Ah, how I am glad for you! — he added. — Well, but what again have you and Boris not changed? — asked the brother. — Here is nonsense! — laughingly shouted Natasha. — About him or about anyone I do not think and know I do not want. — Here so! So you are what again? — I? — asked again Natasha, and a happy smile illuminated her face. — You saw Duport? — No. — The significant Duport, the dancer you have not seen? Well so you will not understand. I am such as this. — Natasha took her rounded hand to her skirt, as dancing, ran back a few steps, rolled over, made a dancing jump, beat her leg about her leg and, becoming on the most tips of her socks, passing a few steps. — Becoming a stand? Becoming here, — she said; but she did not keep on tiptoe. — So here I am such! Never for anyone will I go get married, but I will go into the dancers. Only don’t say it to anyone. Rostov so loudly and funnily laughed that Denisov from his room had become envious, and Natasha could not hold on, laughing with him together. — No, is it okay? — is all she said. — Okay. For Boris now you do not want to exit to get married? Natasha flared up. — I do not want for anyone to go get married. I will say the very same when I see him. — Here so! — said Rostov. — Well, yes, this is all nonsense, — continued chatting Natasha. — But is that Denisov good? — she asked. — Good. — Well and goodbye, get dressed. Is he terrible, Denisov? — From what terrible? — asked Nicolas. — No, Vaska is nice. — You call him Vaskal?.. — Weird. But that he is very good? — Very good. — Well, come rather and drink tea. All together. And Natasha got up on tiptoe and walked from the room such as dancers do, but smiling as only smile happy 15 year old girls. Meeting in the living room with Sonya, Rostov was red. He did not know how to get along with her. Yesterday they kissed at the first moment of joy of meeting, but now he felt that this could not be; he felt that all, and his mother and sisters, looked at him interrogatively and from him awaited how he would lead himself with her. He kissed her hand and called her the formal “you” — Sonya. Yet their eyes meeting each other said the informal “you" and tenderly kissed. She requested his forgiveness for how her ambassador Natasha dared to remind him about his promise and thanked him for his love. He thanked her for the proposal of freedom and spoke, that if otherwise, he will never not stop loving her, and could not not love her. — How weird, — said Vera, choosing an overall moment of silence, — how Sonya with Nikolinka now meet with the formal “you” and as strangers. — The comment of Vera was fair, as all of her remarks; yet, as of the greater parts of her remarks, made all awkward, and not only Sonya, Nikolay and Natasha, but the old countess, who was afraid of this love of her son to Sonya, powerful to deprive him from brilliant parties, also blushed as a girl. Denisov, to the surprise of Rostov, in a new uniform, made up and perfumed, appeared in the living room so the same as the dandy he was in battles, and so kind with the ladies and gentlemen as Rostov in no way had seen him.
Time: the beginning of the year 1806 (Pevear and Volkhonsky do not put "year". Briggs, Mandelker, and Maude use a slightly different formulation and "early"), the following morning near ten o'clock
Location: the Rostovs' house in Moscow
Mentioned: Voronezh, two stations before reaching Moscow (next to last post station in Dole. the last halting-place but one in Bell. last post-station but one in Maude and Mandelker. last posting station but one in Briggs and Garnett. next to last posting station in Dunnigan and Pevear and Volkhonsky.), Hungarian (dropped in Bell)
Pevear and Volkhonsky: Start of Volume 2. Strange shift in narrative from the loss at Austerlitz to Rostov and Denisov on leave. War characters now in peace situations, the post-war Rostov and Denisov, who we previously did not know outside of war. Denisov passed out drunk (maybe some significance to the fact he drinks with a friend while Rostov had persuaded him to come), but Rostov is unable to contain himself. The house is huge but somewhat fractured, as if falling apart, and a somewhat unwelcoming welcome for Rostov. But when the welcome does come, he is back in familiarity. I can’t help but contrast this welcome with the welcome Prince Andrei and the little princess received whenever they arrived at Bald Hills.
Briggs: Nikolay brings Denisov home on leave.
Maude: Nicholas home on leave
Pevear and Volkhonsky: Nikolai brings Denisov home to Moscow on leave.
Translation:
Volume the Second Part the First. I. At the beginning of the year 1806, Nikolay Rostov returned on vacation. Denisov also rode home to Voronezh, and Rostov persuaded him to go with himself to Moscow and stay at his house. At the penultimate station, meeting his friend, Denisov drank with him three bottles of wine and drove to Moscow, despite the potholes in the roads, not waking up, lying in the bottom of the messenger’s sledge beside Rostov, who, at least at the approximations of Moscow, became all the more and more impatient. "Whether it is soon? Whether it is soon? Oh, these unbearable streets, benches, kalachi, lanterns, and cab drivers!" thought Rostov, when now they recorded being let go at the outpost and entered into Moscow. — Denisov, we have arrived! Sleeping! — he said, to all his body served forward, as if by this position he hoped to speed up the move of the sledges. Denisov did not respond. — Here is the corner of the crossroads, where Zahar the cabman stands; here Zahar and all that same horse. Here is the bench where gingerbread is bought. Whether it is soon? Well! — Which home is that? — asked the driver. — Yes out at the end, the big one, how can you not see it! This is our house, — spoke Rostov, —this is our house! — Denisov! Denisov! Now come on. Denisov raised his head, cleared his throat and did not reply. — Dmitry, — turned Rostov to the lackey in irradiation. —Why do we have this fire? — So exactly from daddy’s office it glows. — Still not lied down? Ah? How do you think? — Look again and do not forget, immediately get my new Hungarian, — added Rostov, palpating his new mustache. — Well, go already — he shouted to the driver. — And wake up already, Vasya, — he approached to Denisov, who again lowered his head. — And well, go already, three rubles in vodka, go! — shouted Rostov, when now the sleigh was behind three homes from the entrance. To him it seemed that the horses did not move. Finally the sleigh took him to the right to the entrance; above his head Rostov saw the familiar cornice with broken plaster, porch, and sidewalk pillar. He jumped out of the sledge and ran to the canopy. The house also stood still, heartless, as if it was not its affairs who arrived at it. At the canopy was no one. "My God! Are all of them safe?" thought Rostov, with a fading heart stopping for a moment and immediately getting down by running farther by the hall and the familiar, crooked steps. All the same that door knob lock, for its impurity angering the countess, also weakly opened. In the front burned a lone greasy candle. Old man Mihayl slept on the chest. Prokofiy, the entrance lackey, who was so strong that behind his back he lifted a carriage, sat and knitted bast shoes. He looked at the opened door, and his indifferent, sleeping expression suddenly transformed into enthusiastically scared. — Father, lights! The young count! — he cried out, upon learning of the young baron. — What is this? My darling! — and Prokofiy, shaking from unrest, rushed to the door in the living room, probably to declare, but it was seen with more thought he returned backwards and fell to the shoulder of the young baron. — Healthy? — asked Rostov, pulling out at his hand. — Thank God! Thank God for everything! Now they have only eaten! Give yourself a look, your excellency! — All really safe? — Thank God, thank God! Rostov, forgetting completely about Denisov, not wishing anyone to give a warning themselves, threw off his fur coat and on tiptoe ran in the dark, big hall. All the same, those same gambling tables, that same chandelier in its case; but someone already saw the young baron, and not having time for him to run to the living room, as something as swift as a storm, taking off from the side door and embracing and began kissing him. Still another, a third such the same being broke through from another, a third door; more embraces, more kisses, more shouting, tears of joy. He could not make out where and who was papa, who was Natasha, and who was Petya. All shouted, spoke and kissed him in one and that same time. Only mother was not in their number — this he remembered. — Ah I did not know that... Nikolushka... my friend! — Here he is... ours... my friend, Kolya... changed! No candles! Tea! — And kiss me! — Darling... but me. Sonya, Natasha, Petya, Anna Mihaylovna, Vera, and the old count embraced him; and people and maids, filling up the room, sentenced and gasped. Petya hung on his legs. — But me! — he shouted. Natasha, after this, as she, bending down him to herself, kissed all of his face, bounced off from him and held his Hungarian above the floor, jumped as a donkey in the same location and piercingly screamed. In all parties were brilliant tears of joy, affectionate eyes, in all parties were lips looking for a kiss. Sonya was as red as a kumach, also held for his hand and shone all in his blessed glance, aspiring in his eyes, which she was waiting for. Sonya was now past 16 years-old, and she was very beautiful, especially in this moment of happy, enthusiastic revitalization. She watched him, not lowering her eyes, smiling and holding up breaths. He gratefully looked at her; but all still were waiting and seeking for someone. The old countess had still not exited. And here was heard steps in the doorway. The steps were so quick that this could not be the steps of his mother. But this was her in a new, unfamiliar still to him, stitched without him, dress. All left him, and he ran to her. When they met, she fell on his chest sobbing. She could not raise his face and only pressed his cold laces of his Hungarian. Denisov, noticed by no one, entered into the room, stood here the same and, looking at them, rubbed his eye. — Vasiliy Denisov, friend of your son, — he said, recommending himself to the count, interrogatively watching him. — For mercy I beg. I know, I know, — said the count, kissing and embracing Denisov. — Nikolushka wrote... Natasha, Vera, here is Denisov. Those same happy, enthusiastic faces turned on the furry figure of Denisov and surrounded him. — Darling, Denisov! — screeched Natasha, not remembering herself from delight, jumped to him, hugging and kissing him. All were embarrassed by the act of Natasha. Denisov was also red, but smiled and took the hand of Natasha, kissing him. Denisov took somewhere in the prepared for him room, but the Rostovs all gathered at the sofa about Nikolushki. The old countess, not releasing his hand, which she all the moments kissed, sat with him nearby; the rest, crowding around them, caught each of his movements, words, looks, and not letting down from him the eyes of enthusiastic lovers. The brother and sisters argued and intercepted places from each other to get closer to him, and fought for who would bring tea, handkerchief, and pipe. Rostov was very happy at the love which was shown to him; but the first minute of his meeting was so blessed that his present happiness seemed little, and he was waiting for something more, and more, and more. On another morning newcomers were sleeping from the road to the 10th hour. In the preceding room were lying around sabers, bags, sabretache, disclosed suitcases, and dirty boots. Scrubbed two times with spurs were only what was delivered in the walls. The servants brought wash basins, hot water for a shave and scrubbed dresses. It smelled of tobacco and men. — Hey, Grishka, pipe! — shouted the hoarse voice of Vaski Denisov. — Rostov, get up! Rostov, rubbing his sticky eyes, raised his confused head from the hot pillows. —Ah what, late? — Late, the tenth hour, — was the response of Natasha’s voice, and in the neighboring room was heard rustling starchy dresses, the whisper and laugh of girlish voices, and in a little bit the dissolved door flashed something blue, tapes, black hair and funny faces. This was Natasha with Sonya and Petya, who came to pay a visit as to whether or not they would get up. — Nikolinka, get up! — again was heard the voice of Natasha at the door. — Now! At this time Petya, the first in the room, seeing and grabbing sabers, and testing them excited, as test boys in seeing the warlike elder brother, and forgetting that for the sisters it was indecent to see undressed men, opened the door. — This is your saber? — he shouted. The girls bounced off. Denisov with scared eyes put away his furry legs in the blanket, looking back for help from his friend. The door missed Petya and again shut up. Behind the door was heard a laugh. — Nikolinka, exit in a smock, — spoke the voice of Natasha. — This is your saber? — asked Petya, — Or is this yours? — with obsequious respect he turned to the black mustachioed Denisov. Rostov hastily shod, allotted his bathrobe and got out. Natasha put on one boot with a spur and climbed into another. Sonya spun and only wanted to inflate her dress and to sit down when he got out. Both were in the same, new, blue dress — fresh, rosy, and funny. Sonya ran away, but Natasha, taking her brother under the arm, led him to the sofa, and at it began a conversation. They had not the time to ask each other and respond to the questions about thousands of little things which could interest only them alone. Natasha laughed at every word which he spoke and which she said, not because that it was funny what they said, but because of how she was funny and it was not in her forces to hold her joys and not express laughter. — Ah, how okay, fine! — she sentenced to all. Rostov felt, as under the influence of the hot rays of love, for the first time in one and a half years, in his soul and on his face bloomed that children’s smile, which he had not once smiled with those since he had left from home. — No, listen, — she said, — You now are really a man? I am terribly happy that you are my brother. — she touched his mustache. — I want to know, what are you men? Are you such as we are? No? — From what did Sonya run away? — asked Rostov. — Yes. This is still a whole story! How will you speak with Sonya? “You” or formal “you”? — As will happen, — said Rostov. — Say to her the formal “you”, please, I say this after you. — And what again? — Well, I now say. You know that Sonya is my friend, such a friend that I burned my arm for her. Here look. — she rolled up her muslin sleeve and showed her long, lean and tender arm below her shoulder, much higher than the elbow (at this location which was closed by ballroom dresses) red mark. — This I burned, so that to prove my love. Simply lit the ruler on fire, yes and pressed. Sitting in their previous cool room, on a couch with pads on the handles, and looking at these frantic, lively eyes of Natasha, Rostov again entered into that family, childish world, which had no sense, besides anyone but him, but which delivered to him alone the best pleasures in life; and burning an arm with a ruler, for the testimony of love, seemed to him not useless: he understood and was not surprised by that. — So what again? Alone? — he asked. — Well, so friendly, so friendly! This is that nonsense — ruler; but we are forever friends. She has fallen in love forever; but I do not understand this, I forget now. — Well so what again? — Yes, so she loves me and you. — Natasha suddenly blushed. — Well you remember, before the departure... so she speaks, that you all of this have forgotten... she said: I will love him always, but he will be let free. Because really, this is fine and noble! — Yes, yes? Very noble? Yes? — asked Natasha so seriously and excitedly that it was seen that what she said now, she said before him with tears. Rostov thought. — I will not take back those words, — he said. — And then, Sonya is such a beauty that what fool will refuse from her happiness? — No, no, — screamed Natasha. — About this we have already talked. We knew that this is what you would say. But this cannot be because how, we understand, should you so speak — you think yourself related in a word, exiting, how she as if on purpose said this. The exit that you, all the same, force on her to marry, and exiting is really not that. Rostov saw how all this was well invented by them. Sonya yesterday had struck him with her beauty. Now, seeing her caught, she seemed to him still better. She was a lovely 16 year old girl, obviously passionately his affectionate (at this he did not doubt at this moment). From what again did he not love her now, and not to marry her even, thought Rostov, but... “Now there are still so many other joys and activities! Yes, this is perfect thinking," he thought, "I need to stay free." — Well perfect, — he said, — after the talk. Ah, how I am glad for you! — he added. — Well, but what again have you and Boris not changed? — asked the brother. — Here is nonsense! — laughingly shouted Natasha. — About him or about anyone I do not think and know I do not want. — Here so! So you are what again? — I? — asked again Natasha, and a happy smile illuminated her face. — You saw Duport? — No. — The significant Duport, the dancer you have not seen? Well so you will not understand. I am such as this. — Natasha took her rounded hand to her skirt, as dancing, ran back a few steps, rolled over, made a dancing jump, beat her leg about her leg and, becoming on the most tips of her socks, passing a few steps. — Becoming a stand? Becoming here, — she said; but she did not keep on tiptoe. — So here I am such! Never for anyone will I go get married, but I will go into the dancers. Only don’t say it to anyone. Rostov so loudly and funnily laughed that Denisov from his room had become envious, and Natasha could not hold on, laughing with him together. — No, is it okay? — is all she said. — Okay. For Boris now you do not want to exit to get married? Natasha flared up. — I do not want for anyone to go get married. I will say the very same when I see him. — Here so! — said Rostov. — Well, yes, this is all nonsense, — continued chatting Natasha. — But is that Denisov good? — she asked. — Good. — Well and goodbye, get dressed. Is he terrible, Denisov? — From what terrible? — asked Nicolas. — No, Vaska is nice. — You call him Vaskal?.. — Weird. But that he is very good? — Very good. — Well, come rather and drink tea. All together. And Natasha got up on tiptoe and walked from the room such as dancers do, but smiling as only smile happy 15 year old girls. Meeting in the living room with Sonya, Rostov was red. He did not know how to get along with her. Yesterday they kissed at the first moment of joy of meeting, but now he felt that this could not be; he felt that all, and his mother and sisters, looked at him interrogatively and from him awaited how he would lead himself with her. He kissed her hand and called her the formal “you” — Sonya. Yet their eyes meeting each other said the informal “you" and tenderly kissed. She requested his forgiveness for how her ambassador Natasha dared to remind him about his promise and thanked him for his love. He thanked her for the proposal of freedom and spoke, that if otherwise, he will never not stop loving her, and could not not love her. — How weird, — said Vera, choosing an overall moment of silence, — how Sonya with Nikolinka now meet with the formal “you” and as strangers. — The comment of Vera was fair, as all of her remarks; yet, as of the greater parts of her remarks, made all awkward, and not only Sonya, Nikolay and Natasha, but the old countess, who was afraid of this love of her son to Sonya, powerful to deprive him from brilliant parties, also blushed as a girl. Denisov, to the surprise of Rostov, in a new uniform, made up and perfumed, appeared in the living room so the same as the dandy he was in battles, and so kind with the ladies and gentlemen as Rostov in no way had seen him.
Time: the beginning of the year 1806 (Pevear and Volkhonsky do not put "year". Briggs, Mandelker, and Maude use a slightly different formulation and "early"), the following morning near ten o'clock
Location: the Rostovs' house in Moscow
Mentioned: Voronezh, two stations before reaching Moscow (next to last post station in Dole. the last halting-place but one in Bell. last post-station but one in Maude and Mandelker. last posting station but one in Briggs and Garnett. next to last posting station in Dunnigan and Pevear and Volkhonsky.), Hungarian (dropped in Bell)
Pevear and Volkhonsky: Start of Volume 2. Strange shift in narrative from the loss at Austerlitz to Rostov and Denisov on leave. War characters now in peace situations, the post-war Rostov and Denisov, who we previously did not know outside of war. Denisov passed out drunk (maybe some significance to the fact he drinks with a friend while Rostov had persuaded him to come), but Rostov is unable to contain himself. The house is huge but somewhat fractured, as if falling apart, and a somewhat unwelcoming welcome for Rostov. But when the welcome does come, he is back in familiarity. I can’t help but contrast this welcome with the welcome Prince Andrei and the little princess received whenever they arrived at Bald Hills.
Natasha “like a little goat.” She behaves in a way that embarasses everyone.
“Rostov was very happy in the love that was shown him, but the first moment of their meeting had been so blissful that his present happiness seemed too little to him, and he kept waiting for more, and more, and more."
The “shaggy legs of Denisov” episode caused by Petya’s overeagerness and worship of all things military, which Tolstoy phrases as if it is natural, as if all young boys are like this.
“Natasha laughed at every word he said and she said--not because what they were saying was funny, but because she felt merry and was unable to hold back her joy, which expressed itself in laughter.”
Are men different than women? Natasha wants to know.
The how to address Sonya question, address her as “miss” in this translation.
Natasha burning her arm for Sonya. For Rostov” “the burning of the arm with a ruler to show love did not seem nonsense to him; he understood and was not surprised at it.”
The fleeting of the romantic love, with Rostov now imagining being in love with Sonya but not marrying her and Natasha saying she will never marry anyone but will become a dancer instead.
Denisov jealous of Natasha’s laughter. Rostov on Sonya “He did not know how to treat her.”
Chapter ends with Vera being Vera and that character reinforcement and a change in Denisov, as now he is more of a ladies man (though this is told, in a different context, in the Bromfield version).
Characters (characters who do not appear, but are mentioned are placed in italics. First appearances are in Bold. First mentions are underlined. Final appearance denoted by *):
Nikolai Rostof (also “Nikolushka”, which Briggs reads as “Nicky”. Also “Nikolenka” and "Kolya". "Coco" in Bromfield.)
Denisof (also “Vasha” and introduces himself as “Vasili Denisof”, see chapter 1 of novel for various translations of “Vasili”)
Zakhar (Garnett provides “Zahar” as an alternative reading. called “the izvoshchik” in Dole. “cabman” in Wiener, Dunnigan, and Mandelker. “Sledge-driver” in Garnett. Bell and Briggs have no title for him. Also, his horse (though Briggs
words it to sound like Rostof is calling him a horse). Rostof’s ramblings insinuate that he actually sees him, thus making him a character in the chapter even though we don’t see him.)
Dmitri (also Rostof’s “valet”)
Count Rostof (“papenka”, “the old count”, and “papa”.)
Mikhaila (“Mihail” in Edmonds. “Michael” in Maude. “Mikhayla” in Wiener. “Michel” in Bell. “Mikhailo” in Mandelker. “Mikhaylo” in Briggs. “Mihailo” in Garnett. “Mikhail” in Dunnigan.)
Prokofi (as in Dole and Wiener. “Prokofy” in Edmonds, Mandelker, and Maude. “Procopius” in Bell.)
Natasha
Petya
Sonya (whether Rostof should call her “thou” or “you” is considered of grave importance to Natasha. Briggs sticks with tu or vous.)
Anna Mikhailovna
Viera
Countess Rostova (“the old countess” and “mother”.)
Boris
Duport (“the celebrated dancer”)
(Denisov also calls for what is strictly translated as, as in Maude, Mandelker, Dunnigan, Briggs, and Edmonds, who keep Denisov’s mispronunciations, as “Gwishka”. Wiener and Garnett translate “Grishka.” “Grichka” in Bell. It is
uncertain who this is supposed to be, other than a servant, since he is told to get Denisov’s pipe.)
uncertain who this is supposed to be, other than a servant, since he is told to get Denisov’s pipe.)
(there is also a driver, who since he doesn’t know where Rostof lives, we can assume is a never before seen or heard of character, also servants and maids)
Abridged Versions: Start of Volume 2 for Dole and Briggs. Dole skips from page 4 to 9 in a copying error.
Start of Book 2 for Edmonds and Mandelker.
Start of Book 4 for Maude.
Start of Part 4 for Garnett.
Start of Volume Six of “The Complete Works of Count Tolstoy” and Volume 2 Part the Fourth of “War and Peace” for Wiener.
Start of Chapter 12 for Bell. No break of any kind at end.
Gibian: Start of Book Four 1806.
Gibian: Start of Book Four 1806.
Fuller: Entire chapter is cut
Komroff: Start of Book Four. A few early details are cut. The Zakhar reference is cut. They get to the house quite a bit quicker. Other than a few other details and the ending of the chapter not containing Denisov dressing up but the
countess blushing after Vera’s comment, the chapter is basically preserved.
countess blushing after Vera’s comment, the chapter is basically preserved.
Kropotkin: Start of Part Fourth with 1806 headline with following intro:
“Austria, her capital fallen, her armies routed at Austerlitz, has been forced into a separate peace at the end of 1805. The other combatant armies are in winter quarters; Britain is active only at the sea, and the war in 1806 assumes
the nature of an armed truce. But politically the prosecution of the war continues; Britain maintains a blockade directed against enemy and neutrals alike; Napoleon forbids trade between England and continental countries friendly to
France. One of these, Prussia, at the end of 1806 breaks away, joins the coalition against Napoleon, and declares war. Napoleon contemptuously vanquishes Prussia in a month, occupies Berlin, and moves on against Russia.”
the nature of an armed truce. But politically the prosecution of the war continues; Britain maintains a blockade directed against enemy and neutrals alike; Napoleon forbids trade between England and continental countries friendly to
France. One of these, Prussia, at the end of 1806 breaks away, joins the coalition against Napoleon, and declares war. Napoleon contemptuously vanquishes Prussia in a month, occupies Berlin, and moves on against Russia.”
The looking of the house has been removed. A little bit of the information before the next morning is removed, such as how Rostof has his siblings quarreling over him. The thou or you section is removed and the end of the chapter
where Denisof is dressed up nicely is removed.
where Denisof is dressed up nicely is removed.
Bromfield: Chapter 18: Some early detail in the chapter isn’t there, and we arrive to the house faster,
The delay of the mother isn’t here either. When Boris is mentioned, there is a long explaining paragraph about Rostov’s newfound dislike for Boris. The conversation about Natasha’s loves is different, as she isn’t focused on dancing.
The whole Denisov dressing up is removed and there is more focus on Natasha. No chapter break.
Simmons: Start of 1806 Book Four. All of Rostov's conversation before he enters the house, including with the staff when he wonders if something is wrong, is removed. The bit about the ladies improperly seeing Densiov and Nicholas
unclothed is removed. The you and thou section is also cut (though the rest of Vera's later remark is kept).
The whole Denisov dressing up is removed and there is more focus on Natasha. No chapter break.
Simmons: Start of 1806 Book Four. All of Rostov's conversation before he enters the house, including with the staff when he wonders if something is wrong, is removed. The bit about the ladies improperly seeing Densiov and Nicholas
unclothed is removed. The you and thou section is also cut (though the rest of Vera's later remark is kept).
Edmundson: Act Two Scene One: An entirely dialogueless scene where the Rostovs greet Nikolai.
Act Two Scene Two: This is Nikolai and Natasha's discussion about Sonya and ends with no Vera but Natasha's desire to be a dancer.
Additional Notes: Maude notes the time mistake Tolstoy creates for himself, expanding five months into eighteen months.
Groskop: Page 15: “Koyla...Nikolai...Kolyenka, Kolka, Kolyan, Lado, Nika, Nikolasha, Nikolenka, Nikolka, Nikusya”
Groskop: Page 15: “Koyla...Nikolai...Kolyenka, Kolka, Kolyan, Lado, Nika, Nikolasha, Nikolenka, Nikolka, Nikusya”
Tolstoy's Letters (Christian): Pages 216-217: “where Nikolay Rostov returns from the army, it says that at the next to last station he thrashed the driver, but at the last one he gave him 3 roubles for vodka. Cross this out. (The scene of
the thrashing was excluded from the final text; Rostov’s promise to give ‘three roubles for vodka’ was retained.)”
Edmonds Introduction: "The Rostovs have in common some intangible quality which makes one conscious that Vera is a true Rostov while Sonya comes of different stock."
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