Emma Watson Pussy
War And Peace
I speak? I can speak as I like, and I tell you
plainly that there are not many wives with husbands such as you who
would not have taken lovers (des amants), but I have not done so,"
Pierre wished to say something, looked at her with eyes whose
strange expression she did not understand, and lay down again. He
was suffering physically at that moment, there was a weight on his
chest and he could not breathe. He knew that he must do something to
put an end to this suffering, but what he wanted to do was too
"We had better separate," he muttered in a broken voice.
"Separate? Very well, but only if you give me a fortune," said
Helene. "Separate! Thats a thing to frighten me with!"
Pierre leaped up from the sofa and rushed staggering toward her.
"Ill kill you!" he shouted, and seizing the marble top of a table
with a strength he had never before felt, he made a step toward her
brandishing the slab.
Helenes face became terrible, she shrieked and sprang aside. His
fathers nature showed itself in Pierre. He felt the fascination and
delight of frenzy. He flung down the slab, broke it, and swooping down
on her with outstretched hands shouted, "Get out!" in such a
terrible voice that the whole house heard it with horror. God knows
what he would have done at that moment had Helene not fled from the
A week later Pierre gave his wife full power to control all his
estates in Great Russia, which formed the larger part of his property,
and left for Petersburg alone.
Two months had elapsed since the news of the battle of Austerlitz
and the loss of Prince Andrew had reached Bald Hills, and in spite
of the letters sent through the embassy and all the searches made, his
body had not been found nor was he on the list of prisoners. What
was worst of all for his relations was the fact that there was still a
possibility of his having been picked up on the battlefield by the
people of the place and that he might now be lying, recovering or
dying, alone among strangers and unable to send news of himself. The
gazettes from which the old prince first heard of the defeat at
Austerlitz stated, as usual very briefly and vaguely, that after
brilliant engagements the Russians had had to retreat and had made
their withdrawal in perfect order. The old prince understood from this
official report that our army had been defeated. A week after the
gazette report of the battle of Austerlitz came a letter from
Kutuzov informing the prince of the fate that had befallen his son.
"Your son," wrote Kutuzov, "fell before my eyes, a standard in his
hand and at the head of a regiment--he fell as a hero, worthy of his
father and his fatherland. To the great regret of myself and of the
whole army it is still uncertain whether he is alive or not. I comfort
myself and you with the hope that your son is alive, for otherwise
he would have been mentioned among the officers found on the field
of battle, a list of whom has been sent me under flag of truce."
After receiving this news late in the evening, when he was alone
in his study, the old prince went for his walk as usual next
morning, but he was silent with his steward, the gardener, and the
architect, and though he looked very grim he said nothing to anyone.
When Princess Mary went to him at the usual hour he was working at
his lathe and, as usual, did not look round at her.
"Ah, Princess Mary!" he said suddenly in an unnatural voice,
throwing down his chisel. (The wheel continued to revolve by its own
impetus, and Princess Mary long remembered the dying creak of that
wheel, which merged in her memory with what followed.)
She approached him, saw his face, and something gave way within her.
Her eyes grew dim. By the expression of her fathers face, not sad,
not crushed, but angry and working unnaturally, she saw that hanging
over her and about to crush her was some terrible misfortune, the
worst in life, one she had not yet experienced, irreparable and
incomprehensible--the death of one she loved.
"Father! Andrew!"--said the ungraceful, awkward princess with such
an indescribable charm of sorrow and self-forgetfulness that her
father could not bear her look but turned away with a sob.
"Bad news! Hes not
War And Peace page 186 War And Peace page 188