COUNTESS ROSTOV had not recovered her strength when she received the news of Natasha's illness. Weak as she still was, she set out at once for Moscow with Petya and the whole household, and the Rostovs moved from Marya Dmitryevna's into their own house, where the whole family were installed.
Natasha's illness was so serious that, luckily for herself and her parents, all thought of what had caused it, of her conduct and of the breaking off of her engagement, fell into the background. She was so ill that no one could consider how far she was to blame for all that had happened, while she could not eat nor sleep, was growing visibly thinner, coughed, and was, as the doctors gave them to understand, in actual danger. Nothing could be thought of but how to make her well again. Doctors came to see Natasha, both separately and in consultation. They said a great deal in French, in German, and in Latin. They criticised one another, and prescribed the most diverse remedies for all the diseases they were familiar with. But it never occurred to one of them to make the simple reflection that they could not understand the disease from which Natasha was suffering, as no single disease can be fully understood in a living person; for every living person has his individual peculiarities and always has his own peculiar, new, complex complaints unknown to medicine—not a disease of the lungs, of the kidneys, of the skin, of the heart, and so on, as described in medical books, but a disease that consists of one out of the innumerable combinations of ailments of those organs. This simple reflection can never occur to doctors (just as a sorcerer cannot entertain the idea that he is unable to work magic spells) because it is the work of their life to undertake the cure of disease, because it is for that that they are paid, and on that they have wasted the best years of their life. And what is more, that reflection could not occur to the doctors because they saw that they unquestionably were of use; and they certainly were of use to all the Rostov household. They were of use, not because they made the patient swallow drugs, mostly injurious (the injury done by them was hardly perceptible because they were given in such small doses). They were of use, were needed, were indispensable in fact (for the same reason that there have always been, and always will be, reputed healers, witches, hom?opaths and allopaths), because they satisfied the moral cravings of the patient and those who loved her. They satisfied that eternal human need of hope for relief, that need for sympathetic action that is felt in the presence of suffering, that need that is shown in its simplest form in the little child, who must have the place rubbed when it has hurt itself. The child is hurt, and runs at once to the arms of its mother or nurse for them to kiss or rub the tender spot, and it feels better for the kissing and rubbing. The child cannot believe that these stronger, cleverer creatures have not the power to relieve its pain. And the hope of relief and the expressions of sympathy as the mother rubs it comfort it. To Natasha the doctors took the place of the mother, kissing and rubbing her “bobo,” when they declared that all the trouble would soon be over, if the coachman were to drive to the chemist's shop, in Arbatsky Place, and buy—for a rouble and seventy copecks—those powders and pills in a pretty little box, and if those powders were given to the patient in boiled water precisely every two hours, neither more nor less.
What would Sonya, and the count, and the countess have done, how would they have felt if they had taken no steps, if they had not had those pills at certain hours, and the warm beverage, and the chicken cutlets, and all the detailed regime laid down by the doctors, which gave occupation and consolation to all of them. How could the count have borne his dearly loved daughter's illness if he had not known that it was costing him a thousand roubles, and that he would not grudge thousands more, if that would do her any good; if he had not known that, in case she did not get better, he would spend thousands more on taking her abroad and consulting doctors there; if he had not been able to tell people how Metivier and Feller had failed to diagnose the complaint, but Friez had fathomed it, and Mudrov had succeeded even better in defining it? What would the countess have done if she had not sometimes been able to scold her sick Natasha for not following the doctors' orders quite faithfully?
“You can never get well like this,” she would say, finding a refuge from her grief in anger, “if you won't listen to the doctors and take your medicine properly! We can't have any nonsense, when it may turn to pneumonia,” said the countess, and in pronouncing that—not to her only—mysterious word, she found great comfort. What would Sonya have done, had she not had the glad consciousness that at first she had not had her clothes off for three nights running, so as to be in readiness to carry out the doctors' orders, and that now she did not sleep at night for fear of missing the exact hour at which the innocuous pills were to be given out of the gilt pill-box? Even Natasha herself, though she did declare that no medicines could do her any good, and that it was all nonsense, was glad to see so many sacrifices being made for her, and glad to have to take medicines at certain hours. And she was even glad, indeed, to be able by her disregard of the doctors' prescription to show how little faith she put in them, and how little she cared for life.
The doctor came every day, felt her pulse, looked at her tongue, and made jokes, regardless of her dejected face. But then when he had gone into the next room, and the countess had hastily followed him, he assumed a serious face, and shaking his head gravely, said that though there was indeed danger, he had hopes from the effect of the most recent medicine, and that they could only wait and see; that the illness was more due to moral than physical causes, but … The countess slipped some gold into his hand, trying to conceal the action from herself and from him, and always went back to the sick-room with a lighter heart.
The symptoms of Natasha's illness were loss of appetite, sleeplessness, a cough, and continual depression. The doctors declared that she must have medical treatment, and therefore kept her in the stifling atmosphere of the town. And all the summer of 1812 the Rostovs did not visit the country.
In spite of the numerous little bottles and boxes of pills, drops, and powders, of which Madame Schoss, who had a passion for them, made a complete collection, in spite of the loss of the country life to which she was accustomed, youth gained the upper hand; Natasha's grief began to be covered up by the impressions of daily life; it ceased to lie like an aching load on her heart; it began to fade into the past; and Natasha began to return to physical health again.
娜塔莎的病很严重，以致于她的病因、她的行为、她与未婚夫决裂的思想，都已退居于次要地位，这对她本人和她亲属倒是一桩幸事。她病得都使人不去想她在所发生的这一切事情中有多少过错，她不吃不睡，眼见消瘦下去，常常咳嗽，从医生的言谈中可以感觉到她还在危险中。应该只想着帮助她。医生们来给娜塔莎看病。有时会诊，他们用法语、德语、拉丁语讲了许多，他们互相指责，开出了医治各类疾病的各种各样的药方；可是，他们中没有一个想到那个简单的道理，即他们不可能知道娜塔莎生的什么病，正如不可能知道一个活生生的人患了什么病一样：因为每个活生生的人都有自己的特点，常有特殊的、自己从未有过的、复杂的、不为医典上所载的疾病，不是医典所记的肺病、肝病、皮肤病、心脏病、神经病等等，而是这多种器官上无数病症同时并发综合症的一种。这个简单的道理医生们是不可能想到的（这就好比巫师不会去想他的巫术不灵），因为他们毕生的事业就是治病，因为他们治病可以挣钱吃饭，还因为在这事业上他们耗费了一生中最好的年华。但是主要的——医生们所以想不到这个道理是因为他们看见他们无疑是有用的，对罗斯托夫全家也的确有益处。他们之有益并非是逼着病人吞下了大部分有害的东西（这种害处几乎感觉不出，因为他们给的有害物质的含量很少），他们之有益、必需、必不可少（原因——现在总有，将来也会有江湖郎中、巫婆、顺势疗法和以毒攻毒）是因为他们满足了病人和关心病人的人们的精神需要。他们满足了一种永恒的人类需要，在痛苦时减轻痛苦的需要、同情和行动的需要。他们满足了那种人类的永恒的需要——在儿童身上表现为最原始的形式——抚摸一下那个撞痛的地方。小孩被磕着碰着，马上就会投进妈妈或保姆的怀里，希望能亲吻和揉一揉疼痛的地方，揉了和亲吻了那疼痛的地方后，他会觉得轻松些了。小孩不相信家中最有力、最聪明的人会没有办法帮助他消除疼痛，于是减轻痛苦的希望，母亲抚摸他的红肿处时的同情都安慰着他。医生对娜塔莎是有益的，因为他们亲吻和抚摸她的疼痛处，让人相信，如果现在车夫去一趟阿尔巴特的药店，花费一卢布七十戈比买一盒包装好看的药粉和药丸，并要每隔两小时用开水服下那些药（不多也不少）就会药到病除。
他们怎么可以什么也不做地看着，如果不按时给丸药、给温和的饮料、鸡肉饼、不遵守医生对一切生活细节的嘱咐（遵照医嘱做这些事是全家的慰藉），那么，索尼娅、伯爵和伯爵夫人又能做些什么呢？假如他不知道娜塔莎的病值得花去他数千卢布，并为挽救她不惜再花数千卢布；如果他不知道、假如她不见康复，他仍不惜花费数千卢布，送她去国外，为她会诊；假如他没有详细讲述梅蒂继埃和费勒如何不懂医道，而弗里茨却弄懂了，穆德罗夫诊断得更好，伯爵对爱女的病又如何忍受得了？如果伯爵夫人有时不为女儿不光遵守医嘱而同她吵吵嘴，那么伯爵夫人又能做什么呢？
“像这样你永远也不会康复，”她说，气头上她忘了自己的痛苦，“如果你不听医生的话，不按时服药！要知道这不是开玩笑的，会弄成肺炎的，”伯爵夫人说出这个不只是她一个人不明白的医学术语后，已经感到莫大的安慰了。假如索尼娅没有那种愉快的感觉：在头三个晚上她不曾脱衣裳，准备严格按照医生嘱咐行事，且现在她也经常熬夜，为的是不错过时机给病人服下那装在金包小盒里的有点毒性的药丸，那她会怎么样呢？甚至对娜塔莎自己，她虽然也说，没有什么药可以治好她的病，这一切都是胡闹，可看见大家为她做了如此多的牺牲，她必须按时服药也觉得高兴。她甚至为她不遵医嘱，以表示她不相信治疗，不珍惜自己的生命的行为而高兴。
医生每天都来，号脉、看舌苔、不顾她悲伤的表情，和她开玩笑。可是当他走到另一间屋子，伯爵夫人也赶紧跟他出去的时候，他就换上另一副严肃的面孔，若有所思地摇着头说，虽然有危险，他希望这最后一剂药能有效，必须等待和观察；多半是精神方面的病，但是……
伯爵夫人尽力不让自己和医生觉察，把一枚金币塞到医生手里，每次都怀着宽慰的心情回到病人那儿。
娜塔莎的病症特征是吃得少，睡得少，咳嗽，总是精神萎靡不振。医生们说病人离不开医疗帮助，所以还是让她呆在空气窒息的城里。一八一二年夏季罗斯托夫一家没有到乡下去。
虽然服了大量的药丸、药水、药粉，爱搜集小玩意的ma－dame Schoss收集了一大批装药的瓶“盒”，尽管缺少已习惯了的乡村生活，但是青春占了上风；娜塔莎的悲伤开始蒙上日常生活的印象，这种印象已不那么痛苦折磨她的心了，痛苦开始变成往事，娜塔莎身体开始渐渐好起来。