When Truth Shatters Illusions — War and Peace

They separate, but except Anatole, who falls asleep at once, no one sleeps well. Princess Mary wonders whether this kind stranger is really to be her husband; fear, rare for her, makes the dark corner behind the screen feel occupied by the devil who is also the man with the white forehead and red lips. She rings for her maid to stay. Mademoiselle Bourienne paces the conservatory, smiling and working herself to tears with the imaginary rebuke of sa pauvre mère. The little princess cannot lie on her face or her side; Anatole has recalled the time when everything was light, and she snaps at Katie over a lumpy bed. The old prince paces and snorts, insulted through his daughter. She forgets her father, does up her hair, and does not even see that the idiot has eyes only for Bourienne. He tells himself that if he shows her the flirt, her self-esteem will be wounded and he will not have to part from her. "What devil brought them here?" he mutters while Tíkhon pulls the nightshirt over his grey-haired chest.

In the morning, while Mary goes to her father, Bourienne and Anatole meet in the conservatory. The old prince is affectionately ceremonious, the look he wears when she fails a sum. A proposition has been made; he refers it to her, as his principles require. She pales and blushes. He shouts that Vasíli wants her as a daughter-in-law. When she begins, "If I had to express my own desire...", he cuts in: Anatole will take her with her dowry and Bourienne into the bargain. Seeing her ready to weep, he calls it a joke, gives her an hour, and sends her out to answer yes or no in Vasíli's presence. Crossing the conservatory she sees Anatole embracing the Frenchwoman. His handsome face looks horrified, but he does not at once take his arm from her waist. Bourienne screams and runs. Anatole bows with a gay smile, as if inviting Mary to laugh, shrugs, and goes to his rooms.

An hour later Tíkhon finds Mary on the sofa holding weeping Bourienne, stroking her hair, more affectionate than ever, promising to do all she can for her happiness. In the study Vasíli, a tear in his eye, says his son's fate is in her hands. The old prince demands yes or no. "My desire is never to leave you, Father... I don't wish to marry." He snorts "Humbug!", touches his forehead to hers, and presses her hand until she cries out. Vasíli begs for a "perhaps"; she thanks him for the honour and will never be his son's wife. "Well, so that's finished," the old prince says, glad to have seen him. Mary goes out thinking her vocation is another kind of happiness, love and self-sacrifice. Cost what it may, she will arrange poor Amélie's match, give her means, ask her father and Andrew. She is so unfortunate, a stranger, alone. And perhaps, Mary thinks, she might have done the same.