“Not at all so,” said Nikolay, as though offended at the idea. “As for me, ma tante, as a soldier should, I don’t force myself on any one, nor refuse anything that turns up,” said Rostov, before he had time to consider what he was saying.
“So remember then; this is no jesting matter.”
“How could it be！”
“Yes, yes,” said the governor’s wife, as though talking to herself. “And entre autres, mon cher, you are too assiduous with the other—the blonde. One feels sorry for the husband, really…”
“Oh no, we are quite friendly,” said Nikolay in the simplicity of his heart： it had never occurred to him that such an agreeable pastime for him could be other than agreeable to any one else.
“What a stupid thing I said to the governor’s wife though！” suddenly came into Nikolay’s mind at supper. “She really will begin to arrange a match, and Sonya？…”
And on taking leave of the governor’s wife, as she said to him once more with a smile, “Well, remember then,” he drew her aside.
“But there is something…To tell you the truth, ma tante…”
“What is it, what is it, my dear？ Come, let us sit down here.”
Nikolay had a sudden desire, an irresistible impulse to talk of all his most secret feelings （such as he would never have spoken of to his mother, to his sister, to an intimate friend） to this woman, who was almost a stranger. Whenever Nikolay thought afterwards of this uncalled-for outbursts of inexplicable frankness—though it had most important consequences for him—it seemed to him （as it always seems to people in such cases） that it had happened by chance, through a sudden fit of folly. But at the same time this outburst of frankness, together with other insignificant events, had consequences of immense importance to him and to all his family.
“It’s like this, ma tante. It has long been maman’s wish to marry me to an heiress; but the mere idea of it—marrying for money—is revolting to me.”
“Oh yes, I can understand that,” said the governor’s wife.
“But Princess Bolkonsky, that’s a different matter. In the first place, I’ll tell you the truth, I like her very much, I feel drawn to her, and then, ever since I came across her in such a position, so strangely, it has often struck me, that it was fate. Only think： mamma has long been dreaming of it, but I had never happened to meet her before—it always so happened that we didn’t meet. And then when my sister, Natasha, was engaged to her brother, of course it was impossible to think of a match between us then. It seems it was to happen that I met her first just when Natasha’s engagement had been broken off; and well, everything afterwards…So you see how it is. I have never said all this to any one, and I never shall. I only say it to you.”
The governor’s wife pressed his elbow gratefully.
“Do you know Sophie, my cousin？ I love her; I have promised to marry her, and I am going to marry her…So you see it’s no use talking of such a thing,” Nikolay concluded lamely, flushing crimson.
“My dearest boy, how can you talk so？ Why, Sophie hasn’t a farthing, and you told me yourself that your papa’s affairs are terribly straitened. And your maman？ It would kill her—for one thing. Then Sophie, if she is a girl of any heart, what a life it would be for her！ Your mother in despair, your position ruined…No, my dear, Sophie and you ought to realise that.”
Nikolay did not speak. It was comforting to him to hear these arguments.
“All the same, ma tante, it cannot be,” he said, with a sigh, after a brief silence. “And besides would the princess accept me？ And again she is in mourning; can such a thing be thought of？”
“Why, do you suppose I am going to marry you out of hand on the spot？ There are ways of doing everything,” said the governor’s wife.
“What a match-maker you are, ma tante…” said Nikolay, kissing her plump little hand.
