________________________________________________
_ Helene, having returned with the court from Vilna to Petersburg,
found herself in a difficult position.
In Petersburg she had enjoyed the special protection of a grandee
who occupied one of the highest posts in the Empire. In Vilna she
had formed an intimacy with a young foreign prince. When she
returned to Petersburg both the magnate and the prince were there, and
both claimed their rights. Helene was faced by a new problem- how to
preserve her intimacy with both without offending either.
What would have seemed difficult or even impossible to another woman
did not cause the least embarrassment to Countess Bezukhova, who
evidently deserved her reputation of being a very clever woman. Had
she attempted concealment, or tried to extricate herself from her
awkward position by cunning, she would have spoiled her case by
acknowledging herself guilty. But Helene, like a really great man
who can do whatever he pleases, at once assumed her own position to be
correct, as she sincerely believed it to be, and that everyone else
was to blame.
The first time the young foreigner allowed himself to reproach
her, she lifted her beautiful head and, half turning to him, said
firmly: "That's just like a man- selfish and cruel! I expected nothing
else. A woman sacrifices herself for you, she suffers, and this is her
reward! What right have you, monseigneur, to demand an account of my
attachments and friendships? He is a man who has been more than a
father to me!" The prince was about to say something, but Helene
interrupted him.
"Well, yes," said she, "it may be that he has other sentiments for
me than those of a father, but that is not a reason for me to shut
my door on him. I am not a man, that I should repay kindness with
ingratitude! Know, monseigneur, that in all that relates to my
intimate feelings I render account only to God and to my
conscience," she concluded, laying her hand on her beautiful, fully
expanded bosom and looking up to heaven.
"But for heaven's sake listen to me!"
"Marry me, and I will be your slave!"
"But that's impossible."
"You won't deign to demean yourself by marrying me, you..." said
Helene, beginning to cry.
The prince tried to comfort her, but Helene, as if quite distraught,
said through her tears that there was nothing to prevent her marrying,
that there were precedents (there were up to that time very few, but
she mentioned Napoleon and some other exalted personages), that she
had never been her husband's wife, and that she had been sacrificed.
"But the law, religion..." said the prince, already yielding.
"The law, religion... What have they been invented for if they can't
arrange that?" said Helene.
The prince was surprised that so simple an idea had not occurred
to him, and he applied for advice to the holy brethren of the
Society of Jesus, with whom he was on intimate terms.
A few days later at one of those enchanting fetes which Helene
gave at her country house on the Stone Island, the charming Monsieur
de Jobert, a man no longer young, with snow white hair and brilliant
black eyes, a Jesuit a robe courte* was presented to her, and in the
garden by the light of the illuminations and to the sound of music
talked to her for a long time of the love of God, of Christ, of the
Sacred Heart, and of the consolations the one true Catholic religion
affords in this world and the next. Helene was touched, and more
than once tears rose to her eyes and to those of Monsieur de Jobert
and their voices trembled. A dance, for which her partner came to seek
her, put an end to her discourse with her future directeur de
conscience, but the next evening Monsieur de Jobert came to see Helene
when she was alone, and after that often came again.
*Lay member of the Society of Jesus.
One day he took the countess to a Roman Catholic church, where she
knelt down before the altar to which she was led. The enchanting,
middle-aged Frenchman laid his hands on her head and, as she herself
afterward described it, she felt something like a fresh breeze
wafted into her soul. It was explained to her that this was la grace.
After that a long-frocked abbe was brought to her. She confessed
to him, and he absolved her from her sins. Next day she received a box
containing the Sacred Host, which was left at her house for her to
partake of. A few days later Helene learned with pleasure that she had
now been admitted to the true Catholic Church and that in a few days
the Pope himself would hear of her and would send her a certain
document.
All that was done around her and to her at this time, all the
attention devoted to her by so many clever men and expressed in such
pleasant, refined ways, and the state of dove-like purity she was
now in (she wore only white dresses and white ribbons all that time)
gave her pleasure, but her pleasure did not cause her for a moment
to forget her aim. And as it always happens in contests of cunning
that a stupid person gets the better of cleverer ones, Helene-
having realized that the main object of all these words and all this
trouble was, after converting her to Catholicism, to obtain money from
her for Jesuit institutions (as to which she received indications)-
before parting with her money insisted that the various operations
necessary to free her from her husband should be performed. In her
view the aim of every religion was merely to preserve certain
proprieties while affording satisfaction to human desires. And with
this aim, in one of her talks with her Father Confessor, she
insisted on an answer to the question, in how far was she bound by her
marriage?
They were sitting in the twilight by a window in the drawing room.
The scent of flowers came in at the window. Helene was wearing a white
dress, transparent over her shoulders and bosom. The abbe, a
well-fed man with a plump, clean-shaven chin, a pleasant firm mouth,
and white hands meekly folded on his knees, sat close to Helene and,
with a subtle smile on his lips and a peaceful look of delight at
her beauty, occasionally glanced at her face as he explained his
opinion on the subject. Helene with an uneasy smile looked at his
curly hair and his plump, clean-shaven, blackish cheeks and every
moment expected the conversation to take a fresh turn. But the abbe,
though he evidently enjoyed the beauty of his companion, was
absorbed in his mastery of the matter.
The course of the Father Confessor's arguments ran as follows:
"Ignorant of the import of what you were undertaking, you made a vow
of conjugal fidelity to a man who on his part, by entering the married
state without faith in the religious significance of marriage,
committed an act of sacrilege. That marriage lacked the dual
significance it should have had. Yet in spite of this your vow was
binding. You swerved from it. What did you commit by so acting? A
venial, or a mortal, sin? A venial sin, for you acted without evil
intention. If now you married again with the object of bearing
children, your sin might be forgiven. But the question is again a
twofold one: firstly..."
But suddenly Helene, who was getting bored, said with one of her
bewitching smiles: "But I think that having espoused the true religion
I cannot be bound by what a false religion laid upon me."
The director of her conscience was astounded at having the case
presented to him thus with the simplicity of Columbus' egg. He was
delighted at the unexpected rapidity of his pupil's progress, but
could not abandon the edifice of argument he had laboriously
constructed.
"Let us understand one another, Countess," said he with a smile, and
began refuting his spiritual daughter's arguments. _
Read next: Book Eleven: 1812: Chapter 7
Read previous: Book Eleven: 1812: Chapter 5
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