Prayer Answered, Freedom Found — War and Peace

The dreadful news of Borodino, of the losses in killed and wounded, and the still more terrible news of the loss of Moscow, reached Voronezh in the middle of September. Princess Mary, having learned of her brother's wound only from the Gazette and having no definite news of him, prepared to set off in search of Prince Andrew. Nicholas, who had not seen her again himself, heard of that intention. When he received the news he was not seized with despair or a desire for vengeance. Everything in Voronezh suddenly seemed dull and tiresome, and he felt an indefinite shame. The conversations around him seemed insincere. Only in the regiment, he felt, would things become clear. He made haste to finish buying the horses, and often became unreasonably angry with his servant and squadron quartermaster.

A few days before his departure a special thanksgiving for the Russian victory was held in the cathedral. Nicholas stood a little behind the governor with military decorum, his mind on many subjects. After the service the governor's wife beckoned him and indicated a lady beyond the choir. He recognised Princess Mary not so much by the profile under her bonnet as by the solicitude, timidity, and pity that overcame him at once. Her face had the same look of inner spiritual labour, now lit by sorrow, prayer, and hope. He went up without waiting to be prompted and told her he had heard of her trouble and sympathised with his whole soul. A vivid glow kindled in her face. He said that if Prince Andrew were not living it would have been announced at once in the Gazette, since he was a colonel, and that splinter wounds were often either at once fatal or very slight. They must hope for the best. She could not finish the word dreadful; she bent her head with the grace that marked everything she did in his presence, looked up gratefully, and went out after her aunt.

That evening Nicholas stayed in to settle accounts with the horse dealers. It was too late to go anywhere and too early to sleep. He paced the room, reflecting on his life, a thing he rarely did. The encounter in church had sunk deeper than was desirable for his peace of mind. In men he could not bear a higher spiritual life (that was why he did not like Prince Andrew); in Princess Mary that same sorrow was an irresistible attraction. He asked why he was not free, why he had been in such a hurry with Sonya, and compared her lack of spirituality with Mary's abundance of it. He could not imagine a future with Princess Mary because he did not understand her, but simply loved her. Remembering how she had prayed, he thought that such prayer moved mountains. He put down his pipe, folded his hands before the icon, and asked God to release him from Sonya. Tears were in his eyes when Lavrushka came in with papers from the governor: a courier, and a letter. Sonya's letter, written from Troitsa, said that the loss of almost all the Rostovs' Moscow property, the countess's wish that Nicholas should marry Princess Bolkonskaya, and his own silence and coldness had made her release him from his promise. She begged him to consider himself free. He turned pale with fear and joy, astonished that what he had just prayed for had come so quickly it seemed an ordinary coincidence rather than an answer. The countess's letter described the last days in Moscow, the fire, and the destruction of their property. Prince Andrew was among the wounded travelling with them; his state was very critical, but the doctor now had more hope. Sonya and Natasha were nursing him. Next day Nicholas took his mother's letter to Princess Mary. Neither said a word about what Natasha nursing him might mean, but the letter made them suddenly almost as intimate as relations. The following day he saw her off on her journey to Yaroslavl, and a few days later left to rejoin his regiment.