War And Peace: Book 6 - CHAPTER XIV

作者: Leo Tolstoy

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Author: Leo Tolstoy

ON THE 31ST of December, on the eve of the new year 1810, a ball was given by

a grand personage who had been a star of the court of Catherine. The Tsar and

the diplomatic corps were to be present at this ball.

The well-known mansion of this grandee in the English Embankment was

illuminated by innumerable lights. The police were standing at the lighted

entry, laid with red baize; and not merely policemen, but a police commander was

at the entrance, and dozens of officers of the police. Carriages kept driving

away, and fresh ones kept driving up, with grooms in red livery and grooms in

plumed hats. From the carriages emerged men wearing uniforms, stars, and

ribbons; while ladies in satin and ermine stepped carefully out on the carriage

steps, that were let down with a bang, and then walked hurriedly and noiselessly

over the baize of the entry.

Almost every time a new carriage drove up, a whisper ran through the crowd

and hats were taken off. “The Emperor?…No, a minister…prince…ambassador…Don't

you see the plumes?…” was audible in the crowd. One person, better dressed than

the rest, seemed to know every one, and mentioned by name all the most

celebrated personages of the day.

A third of the guests had already arrived at this ball, while the Rostovs,

who were to be present at it, were still engaged in hurried preparations.

Many had been the discussions and the preparations for that ball in the

Rostov family; many the fears that an invitation might not arrive, that the

dresses would not be ready, and that everything would not be arranged as it

ought to be.

The Rostovs were to be accompanied by Marya Ignatyevna Peronsky, a friend and

relation of the countess, a thin and yellow maid-of-honour of the old court, who

was acting as a guide to the provincial Rostovs in the higher circles of

Petersburg society.

At ten o'clock the Rostovs were to drive to Tavritchesky Garden to call for

the maid-of-honour. Meantime it was five minutes to ten, and the young ladies

were not yet dressed.

Natasha was going to her first great ball. She had got up at eight o'clock

that morning, and had spent the whole day in feverish agitation and activity.

All her energies had since morning been directed to the one aim of getting

herself, her mother, and Sonya as well dressed as possible. Sonya and her mother

put themselves entirely in her hands. The countess was to wear a dark red velvet

dress; the two girls white tulle dresses over pink silk slips, and roses on

their bodices. They were to wear their hair à la grecque.

All the essentials were ready. Feet, arms, necks, and ears had been washed,

scented, and powdered with peculiar care in readiness for the ball. Openwork

silk stockings and white satin shoes with ribbons had been put on. The

hairdressing was almost accomplished. Sonya was finishing dressing, so was the

countess; but Natasha, who had been busily looking after every one, was

behindhand. She was still sitting before the looking-glass with a

peignoir thrown over her thin shoulders. Sonya, already dressed, stood in

the middle of the room, and was trying to fasten in a last ribbon, hurting her

little finger as she pressed the pin with a scrooping sound into the silk.

“Not like that, Sonya, not like that!” said Natasha, turning her head, and

clutching her hair in both hands, as the maid arranging it was not quick enough

in letting it go. “The ribbon mustn't go like that; come here.” Sonya squatted

down. Natasha pinned the ribbon in her own way.

“Really, miss, you mustn't do so,” said the maid, holding Natasha's

hair.

“Oh, my goodness! Afterwards! There, that's right, Sonya.”

“Will you soon be ready?” they heard the countess's voice. “It will be ten in

a minute.”

“Immediately, immediately.… And are you ready, mamma?”

“Only my cap to fasten on.”

“Don't do it without me,” shouted Natasha; “you don't know how to!”

“But it's ten o'clock already.”

It had been arranged to be at the ball at half-past ten, and Natasha still

had to dress, and they had to drive to Tavritchesky Garden.

When her coiffure was finished, Natasha, in her mother's dressing-jacket and

a short petticoat under which her dancing-shoes could be seen, ran up to Sonya,

looked her over, and then ran to her mother. Turning her head round, she pinned

on her cap, and hurriedly kissing her grey hair, ran back to the maids who were

shortening her skirt.

All attention was now centred on Natasha's skirt, which was too long. Two

maids were running it up round the edge, hurriedly biting off the threads. A

third one, with pins in her teeth and lips, was running from the countess to

Sonya; a fourth was holding up the whole tulle dress in her arms.

“Mavrushka, quicker, darling!”

“Give me that thimble, miss.”

“Will you be quick?” said the count from outside the door, coming in. “Here

are your smelling-salts. Madame Peronsky must be tired of waiting.”

“Ready, miss,” said the maid, lifting up the shortened tulle skirt on two

fingers, blowing something off it, and giving it a shake to show her

appreciation of the transparency and purity of what she had in her hands.

Natasha began putting on the dress.

“In a minute, in a minute, don't come in, papa,” she shouted to her father at

the door, from under the tulle of the dress that concealed all her face. Sonya

slammed the door. A minute later the count was admitted. He was wearing a blue

frock coat, stockings, and dancing-shoes, and was perfumed and pomaded.

“Ah, papa, how nice you look, lovely!” said Natasha, standing in the middle

of the room, stroking out the folds of her tulle.

“If you please, miss, if you please…” said a maid, pulling up the skirt and

turning the pins from one corner of her mouth to the other with her

tongue.

“Say what you like!” cried Sonya, with despair in her voice, as she gazed at

Natasha's skirt, “say what you like!—it's too long still!”

Natasha walked a little further off to look at herself in the pierglass. The

skirt was too long.

“My goodness, madam, it's not a bit too long,” said Mavrushka, creeping along

the floor on her knees after her young lady.

“Well, if it's long, we'll tack it up, in one minute, we'll tack it up,” said

Dunyasha, a resolute character. And taking a needle out of the kerchief on her

bosom she set to work again on the floor.

At that moment the countess in her cap and velvet gown walked shyly with soft

steps into the room.

“Oo-oo! my beauty!” cried the count. “She looks nicer than any of you!”…He

would have embraced her, but, flushing, she drew back to avoid being

crumpled.

“Mamma, the cap should be more on one side,” said Natasha. “I'll pin it

fresh,” and she darted forward. The maids turning up her skirt, not prepared for

her hasty movement, tore off a piece of the tulle.

“Oh, mercy! What was that? Really it's not my fault…”

“It's all right, I'll run it up, it won't show,” said Dunyasha.

“My beauty, my queen!” said the old nurse coming in at the doorway. “And

Sonyushka, too; ah, the beauties!…”

At a quarter past ten they were at last seated in their carriage and driving

off. But they still had to drive to Tavritchesky Garden

Madame Peronsky was ready and waiting. In spite of her age and ugliness, just

the same process had been going on with her as with the Rostovs, not with

flurry, for with her it was a matter of routine. Her elderly and unprepossessing

person had been also washed and scented and powdered; she had washed as

carefully behind her ears, and like the Rostovs' nurse, her old maid had

enthusiastically admired her mistress's attire, when she came into the

drawing-room in her yellow gown adorned with her badge of a maid-of-honour.

Madame Peronsky praised the Rostovs' costumes, and they praised her attire and

her taste. Then, careful of their coiffures and their dresses, at eleven o'clock

they settled themselves in the carriages and drove off.

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