BOOK NINE: 1812
8. CHAPTER VIII
 (continued)
"So you've decided to go, Andrew?" asked his sister. 
"Thank God that I can," replied Prince Andrew. "I am very sorry
 you can't." 
"Why do you say that?" replied Princess Mary. "Why do you say
 that, when you are going to this terrible war, and he is so old?
 Mademoiselle Bourienne says he has been asking about you...." 
As soon as she began to speak of that, her lips trembled and her
 tears began to fall. Prince Andrew turned away and began pacing the
 room. 
"Ah, my God! my God! When one thinks who and what- what trash- can
 cause people misery!" he said with a malignity that alarmed Princess
 Mary. 
She understood that when speaking of "trash" he referred not only to
 Mademoiselle Bourienne, the cause of her misery, but also to the man
 who had ruined his own happiness. 
"Andrew! One thing I beg, I entreat of you!" she said, touching
 his elbow and looking at him with eyes that shone through her tears.
 "I understand you" (she looked down). "Don't imagine that sorrow is
 the work of men. Men are His tools." She looked a little above
 Prince Andrew's head with the confident, accustomed look with which
 one looks at the place where a familiar portrait hangs. "Sorrow is
 sent by Him, not by men. Men are His instruments, they are not to
 blame. If you think someone has wronged you, forget it and forgive! We
 have no right to punish. And then you will know the happiness of
 forgiving." 
"If I were a woman I would do so, Mary. That is a woman's virtue.
 But a man should not and cannot forgive and forget," he replied, and
 though till that moment he had not been thinking of Kuragin, all his
 unexpended anger suddenly swelled up in his heart. 
"If Mary is already persuading me forgive, it means that I ought
 long ago to have punished him," he thought. And giving her no
 further reply, he began thinking of the glad vindictive moment when he
 would meet Kuragin who he knew was now in the army. 
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