I have done nothing； I did nothing to lead him on。 No one will ever know； and I shall never see him again；” she told herself。 “So it’s plain that nothing has happened； that there’s nothing to regret； that Prince Andrey can love me still。 But why still？ O my God； my God； why isn’t he here！” Natasha felt comforted for a moment； but again some instinct told her that though that was all true； and though nothing had happened； yet some instinct told her that all the old purity of her love for Prince Andrey was lost。 And again； in her imagination； she went over all her conversation with Kuragin； and saw again the face； the gestures； and the tender smile of that handsome； daring man at the moment when he had pressed her arm。
Chapter 11
ANATOLE KURAGIN was staying in Moscow because his father had sent him away from Petersburg； where he had been spending twenty thousand a year in hard cash and running up bills for as much more； and his creditors had been dunning his father。 The father informed his son that for the last time he would pay half his debts； but only on condition that he would go away to Moscow； where his father had； by much exertion； secured a post for him as adjutant to the commander…in…chief； and would try finally to make a good match there。 He suggested to him either Princess Marya or Julie Karagin。
Anatole consented； and went away to Moscow； where he stayed with Pierre。 Pierre at first was by no means pleased to receive Anatole； but after a while he got used to his presence； sometimes accompanied him on his carousals； and by way of loans gave him money。
As Shinshin had with truth said of him； Anatole had won the hearts of all the Moscow ladies； especially by the nonchalance with which he treated them and the preference he openly showed for gypsy girls and actresses； with the most prominent of whom； Mademoiselle George； he was said to have an intrigue。 He never missed a single drinking party at Danilov’s； or any other Moscow festivity； spent whole nights drinking； outdoing all the rest； and was at every soirée and ball in the best society。 There were rumours of several intrigues of his with Moscow ladies； and at balls he flirted with a few of them。 But he fought shy of unmarried ladies； especially the wealthy heiresses； who were most of them plain。 He had a good reason for this； of which no one knew but his most intimate friends： he had been for the last two years married。 Two years previously； while his regiment had been stationed in Poland； a Polish landowner； by no means well…to…do； had forced Anatole to marry his daughter。
Anatole had very shortly afterwards abandoned his wife； and in consideration of a sum of money； which he agreed to send his father…in…law； he was allowed by the latter to pass as a bachelor unmolested。
Anatole was very well satisfied with his position； with himself； and with other people。 He was instinctively and thoroughly convinced that he could not possibly live except just in the way he did live； and that he had never in his life done anything base。 He was incapable of considering either how his actions might be judged by others； or what might be the result of this or that action on his part。 He was convinced that just as the duck is created so that it must always live in the water； so he was created by God such that he must spend thirty thousand a year； and always take a good position in society。 He had such perfect faith in this that； looking at him； others too were persuaded of it； and refused him neither the exalted position in society nor the money； which he borrowed right and left； obviously with no notion of repaying it。
He was not a gambler； at least he never greatly cared about winning money at cards。 He was not vain。 He did not care a straw what people thought of him。 Still less could he have been reproached with ambition。 Several times he had； to his father’s irritation； spoiled his best chances of a career； and he laughed at distinctions of all kinds。 He was not stingy； and never refused any one who asked him for anything。 What he loved was dissipation and women； and as； according to his ideas； there was nothing dishonourable in these tastes； and as he was incapable of considering the effect on others of the gratification of his tastes； he believed himself in his heart to be an irreproachable man； felt a genuine contempt for scoundrels and mean persons； and with an untroubled conscience held his head high。 Rakes； those masculine Magdalens； have a secret feeling of their own guiltlessness； just as have women Magdalens； founded on the same hope of forgiveness。 “All will be forgiven her； because she loved much； and all will be forgiven him； because he has enjoyed himself much。”
Dolohov had that year reappeared in Moscow after his exile and his Persian adventures。 He spent his time in luxury； gambling； and dissipation； renewed his friendship with his old Petersburg comrade Kuragin； and made use of him for his own objects。
Anatole sincerely liked Dolohov for his cleverness and daring。 Dolohov； for whom Anatole’s name and rank and connections were of use in ensnaring wealthy young men into his society for gambling purposes； made use of Kuragin without letting him feel it； and was amused by him too。 Apart from interested motives； for which he needed Anatole； the process itself of controlling another man’s will was an enjoyment； a habit； and a necessity for Dolohov。
Natasha had made a great impression on Kuragin。 At supper； after the theatre； he analysed to Dolohov； with the manner of a connoisseur； the points of her arms； her shoulders； her foot； and her hair； and announced his intention of getting up a flirtation with her。 What might come of such a flirtation—Anatole was incapable of considering； and had no notion； as he never had a notion of what would come of any of his actions。
“She’s pretty； my lad； but she’s not for us；” Dolohov said to him。
“I’ll tell my sister to ask her to dinner；” said Anatole。 “Eh？”
“You’d better wait till she’s married。…”
“You know I adore little girls；” said Anatole； “they’re all confusion in a minute。”
“You’ve come to grief once already over a ‘little girl；’ ” said Dolohov； who knew of Anatole’s marriage。 “Beware。”
“Well； one can’t do it twice！ Eh？” said Anatole； laughing good…humouredly。
Chapter 12
THE NEXT DAY the Rostovs did not go anywhere； and no one came to see them。 Marya Dmitryevna had a discussion with Natasha’s father； which she kept secret from her。 Natasha guessed they were talking of the old prince and making some plan； and she felt worried and humiliated by it。 Every minute she expected Prince Andrey； and twice that day she sent a man to Vosdvizhenka to inquire whether he had not arrived。 He had not arrived。 She felt more dreary now than during the first days in Moscow。 To her impatience and pining for him there were now added the unpleasant recollections of her interview with Princess Marya and the old prince； and a vague dread and restlessness； of which she did not know the cause。 She was continually fancying either that he would never come or that something would happen to her before he came。 She could not brood calmly for long hours over his image by herself as she had done before。 As soon as she began to think of him； her memory of him was mingled with the recollection of the old prince and Princess Marya； and of the theatre and of Kuragin。 Again the question presented itself whether she had not been to blame； whether she had not broken her faith to Prince Andrey； and again she found herself going over in the minutest detail every word； every gesture； every shade in the play of expression on the face of that man； who had known how to awaken in her a terrible feeling that was beyond her comprehension。 In the eyes of those about her； Natasha seemed livelier than usual； but she was far from being as serene and happy as before。
On Sunday morning Marya Dmitryevna invited her guests to go to Mass to her parish church of Uspenya on Mogiltse。
“I don’t like those fashionable churches；” she said； obviously priding herself on her independence of thought。 “God is the same everywhere。 Our parish priest is an excellent man； and conducts the service in a suitable way； so that is all as it should be； and his deacon too。 Is there something holier about it when there are concerts in the choir？ I don’t like it； it’s simply self…indulgence！”
Marya Dmitryevna liked Sundays； and knew how to keep them as holidays。 Her house was always all scrubbed out and cleaned on Saturday； neither she nor her servants did any work； and every one wore holiday…dress and went to service。 There were additional dishes at the mistress’s dinner； and the servants had vodka and roast goose or a suckling…pig at theirs。 But in nothing in the whole house was the holiday so marked as in the broad； severe face of Marya Dmitryevna； which on that day wore a never…varying expression of solemnity。
When after service they were drinking coffee in the drawing…room； where the covers had been removed from the furniture； the servant announced that the carriage was ready； and Marya Dmitryevna； dressed in her best shawl in which she paid calls； rose with a stern air； and announced that she was going to call on Prince Nikolay Andreitch Bolkonsky to ask for an explanation of his conduct about Natasha。 After Marya Dmitryevna had gone； a dressmaker waited upon the Rostovs from Madame Chalmey； and Natasha； very glad of a diversion； went into a room adjoining the drawing…room； and shutting the door between； began trying on her new dresses。 Just as she had put on a bodice basted together； with the sleeves not yet tacked in； and was turning her head to look at the fit of the back in the looking…glass； she caught the sound of her father’s voice in the drawing…room in eager conversation with another voice； a woman’s voice； which made her flush red。 It was the voice of Ellen。 Before Natasha had time to take off the bodice she was trying on； the door opened； and Countess Bezuhov walked into the room； wearing a dark heliotrope velvet gown with a high collar； and beaming with a good…natured and friendly smile。
“O my enchantress！” she said to the blushing Natasha。 “Charming！ No； this is really beyond anything； count；” she said to Count Ilya Andr