When Princess Mary heard from Nicholas that her brother was with the Rostovs at Yaroslavl, she prepared at once to go, and to take little Nicholas, despite her aunt's efforts to dissuade her. Whether the journey was difficult or possible she did not ask: it was her duty to be near a brother who might be dying and to bring his son to him. She attributed Andrew's silence to weakness or to fear of the road for her. In a few days the huge family coach, a trap, and a baggage cart were ready, with Mademoiselle Bourienne, the boy and his tutor, the old nurse, maids, Tikhon, and a courier. The Moscow route was closed. The roundabout way through Lipetsk, Ryazan, Vladimir, and Shuya was long, short of post horses, and dangerous near Ryazan where the French were said to have shown themselves. Her energy astonished the party; they reached Yaroslavl by the end of the second week.
The last days in Voronezh had been the happiest of her life. Love for Rostov no longer tormented her; at their last interview she had become convinced she was beloved, even though Nicholas never named Natasha's possible return to Andrew. Grief for her brother still had full force, and those who saw her off thought she would fall ill. The journey itself saved her for a while. As the coach entered the town gates the courier met them, appalled by her pallor, and said the Rostovs were at the merchant Bronnikov's house above the Volga. The servants said the prince was still the same. She did not ask what that meant. At the porch a rosy girl with a large plait smiled in a way that seemed affected. It was Sonya. The countess embraced Mary in French; her sigh contradicted the doctor's claim that Andrew was not in danger. The old count, thrown out of his groove since Moscow burned, seemed pitiful and bewildered.
Mary kissed Sonya while trying to stifle hostility, vexed that they were entertaining her when she only wanted her brother. Then Natasha ran in with boundless love and pity on her face, and Mary knew she had found a comrade in grief. They wept on each other's shoulders. Natasha could not put the truth into words. At Troitsa the fever and the fear of gangrene had passed; at Yaroslavl the wound had festered, then fever returned. Two days ago this suddenly happened. He was not thinner. He was worse. He was too good, Natasha said, and he could not live.
Coming Up in Chapter 278
When Natasha opens Prince Andrew's door with a familiar movement and lets Princess Mary pass into the room before her, the princess feels the sobs in her throat. Hard as she has tried to prepare herself, and now tries to remain tranquil, she knows she cannot look at him without tears.
