a brief snippet with some minor characters from War and Peace
I'm almost finished reading War and Peace (about 180 pages left, of 1400...). It seems to me that there must have been a few almost-canon moments here and there in the book, but nothing major -- except this little exchange, which stood out to me, and reminded me of this community:
"Well now, goodbye. Tell Denisov, at sunrise, at the first shot," said Dolohov, and he was going on, but Petya clutched at his arm.
"Oh!" he cried, "you are a hero! Oh! how splendid it is! how jolly! How I love you!"
"That's all right," answered Dolohov, but Petya did not let go of him, and in the dark Dolohov made out that he was bending over to him to be kissed. Dolohov kissed him, laughed, and turning his horse's head, vanished into the darkness.
Looks like somebody just had his first boy-crush. ;)
Also -- those who haven't read it may be surprised that there's a scene in War and Peace in which a guy realizes, for the first time, that he's in love with a certain girl -- because he sees her crossdressed in men's clothes and wearing a mustache. She simultaneously falls more in love with him than ever, because he's also crossdressed, and wearing crinoline. It's not slash, but it's almost-canon... something, at any rate...
Okay, well, that small-text bit was just going to be a footnote, but upon request, here's the text. :) Again, not much of a spoiler, really.
This takes place at Christmas; the Rostov household is dressing up for a mummery. It takes place over a few chapters, so I'll just cut to the relevant bits:
Half an hour later there appeared in the hall among the other mummers an old lady in a crinoline -- this was Nikolai. Petya was a Turkish lady, Dimmler was a clown, Natasha a hussar, and Sonya a Circassian with eyebrows and moustaches smudged with burnt cork. [...]
Sonya's disguise was the best of all. Her moustaches and eyebrows were extraordinarily becoming to her. Everyone told her she looked very pretty, and she was in a mood of eager energy unlike her. Some inner voice told her that now or never her fate would be sealed, and in her masculine attire she seemed quite another person. [...]
[They decide to pay a visit to the neighbors.]
Nikolai, in his old lady's crinoline and a hussar's cloak belted over it, stood up in the middle of the sledge picking up the reins. [...]
"How light it is, Nikolenka," said the voice of Sonya.
Nikolai looked round at Sonya, and bent down to look at her face closer. It was a quite new, charming face with black moustaches, and eyebrows that peeped up at him from the sable fur -- so close yet so distant -- in the moonlight.
"That used to be Sonya," thought Nikolai. He looked closer at her and smiled.
"What is it, Nikolenka?"
"Nothing," he said, and turned to his horses again.
[They arrive at the neighbor's house and go in to dance and perform. "'Ha-ha-he!...The hussar, the hussar! Just like a boy; and the legs!...I can't look at him...' voices cried."]
An hour later all the fancy dresses were crumpled and untidy. The corked moustaches and eyebrows were wearing off the heated, perspiring, and merry faces. [...] Whether they were playing at the ring and string game, or the rouble game, or talking as now, Nikolai did not leave Sonya's side, and looked at her with quite new eyes. It seemed to him as though today, for the first time, he had, thanks to that corked moustache, seen her fully as she was. [...]
"So, this is what she is, and what a fool I have been!" he kept thinking, looking at her sparkling eyes, at the happy, ecstatic smile dimpling her cheeks under the moustache. He had never seen that smile before.
[She decides to take a dare, and go out alone in the dark, into the granary, which is connected with superstitions about the devil or something, it appears. She puts on a cloak and goes out of the house, declaring that she's not afraid.]
"I'm a fool; a fool! What have I been waiting for all this time?" thought Nikolai; and running out into the porch he went round the corner of the house along the path leading to the back door. He knew Sonya would come that way. [...]
Sonya was muffled up in the cloak. She was two paces away when she saw him. She saw him, too, not as she knew him, and as she was always a little afraid of him. He was in a woman's dress, with tousled hair, and a blissful smile that was new to Sonya. She ran quickly to him.
"Quite different, and still the same," thought Nikolai, looking at her face, all lighted up by the moon. He slipped his hands under the cloak that covered her head, embraced her, drew her to him, and kissed the lips that wore a moustache and smelt of burnt cork. Sonya kissed him full on the lips, and putting out her little hands held them against his cheeks on both sides.
"Sonya!...Nikolenka!..." was all they said.
[And, on the ride home, Sonya goes in Nikolai's sledge.]
Nikolai drove smoothly along the way back, making no effort now to get in front. He kept gazing in the fantastic moonlight at Sonya, and seeking, in the continually shifting light behind those eyebrows and moustachse, his own Sonya, the old Sonya, and the Sonya of today, from whom he had resolved never to be parted. He watched her intently, and when he recognized the old Sonya and the new Sonya, and recalled, as he smelt it, that smell of burnt cork that mingled with the thrill of the kiss, he drew in a deep breath of the frosty air [....] The same Circassian, with a moustache and sparkling eyes, peeping from under the sable hood, was still sitting there, and that Circassian was Sonya, and that Sonya was for certain now his happy and loving future wife.
"Well now, goodbye. Tell Denisov, at sunrise, at the first shot," said Dolohov, and he was going on, but Petya clutched at his arm.
"Oh!" he cried, "you are a hero! Oh! how splendid it is! how jolly! How I love you!"
"That's all right," answered Dolohov, but Petya did not let go of him, and in the dark Dolohov made out that he was bending over to him to be kissed. Dolohov kissed him, laughed, and turning his horse's head, vanished into the darkness.
Looks like somebody just had his first boy-crush. ;)
Also -- those who haven't read it may be surprised that there's a scene in War and Peace in which a guy realizes, for the first time, that he's in love with a certain girl -- because he sees her crossdressed in men's clothes and wearing a mustache. She simultaneously falls more in love with him than ever, because he's also crossdressed, and wearing crinoline. It's not slash, but it's almost-canon... something, at any rate...
Okay, well, that small-text bit was just going to be a footnote, but upon request, here's the text. :) Again, not much of a spoiler, really.
This takes place at Christmas; the Rostov household is dressing up for a mummery. It takes place over a few chapters, so I'll just cut to the relevant bits:
Half an hour later there appeared in the hall among the other mummers an old lady in a crinoline -- this was Nikolai. Petya was a Turkish lady, Dimmler was a clown, Natasha a hussar, and Sonya a Circassian with eyebrows and moustaches smudged with burnt cork. [...]
Sonya's disguise was the best of all. Her moustaches and eyebrows were extraordinarily becoming to her. Everyone told her she looked very pretty, and she was in a mood of eager energy unlike her. Some inner voice told her that now or never her fate would be sealed, and in her masculine attire she seemed quite another person. [...]
[They decide to pay a visit to the neighbors.]
Nikolai, in his old lady's crinoline and a hussar's cloak belted over it, stood up in the middle of the sledge picking up the reins. [...]
"How light it is, Nikolenka," said the voice of Sonya.
Nikolai looked round at Sonya, and bent down to look at her face closer. It was a quite new, charming face with black moustaches, and eyebrows that peeped up at him from the sable fur -- so close yet so distant -- in the moonlight.
"That used to be Sonya," thought Nikolai. He looked closer at her and smiled.
"What is it, Nikolenka?"
"Nothing," he said, and turned to his horses again.
[They arrive at the neighbor's house and go in to dance and perform. "'Ha-ha-he!...The hussar, the hussar! Just like a boy; and the legs!...I can't look at him...' voices cried."]
An hour later all the fancy dresses were crumpled and untidy. The corked moustaches and eyebrows were wearing off the heated, perspiring, and merry faces. [...] Whether they were playing at the ring and string game, or the rouble game, or talking as now, Nikolai did not leave Sonya's side, and looked at her with quite new eyes. It seemed to him as though today, for the first time, he had, thanks to that corked moustache, seen her fully as she was. [...]
"So, this is what she is, and what a fool I have been!" he kept thinking, looking at her sparkling eyes, at the happy, ecstatic smile dimpling her cheeks under the moustache. He had never seen that smile before.
[She decides to take a dare, and go out alone in the dark, into the granary, which is connected with superstitions about the devil or something, it appears. She puts on a cloak and goes out of the house, declaring that she's not afraid.]
"I'm a fool; a fool! What have I been waiting for all this time?" thought Nikolai; and running out into the porch he went round the corner of the house along the path leading to the back door. He knew Sonya would come that way. [...]
Sonya was muffled up in the cloak. She was two paces away when she saw him. She saw him, too, not as she knew him, and as she was always a little afraid of him. He was in a woman's dress, with tousled hair, and a blissful smile that was new to Sonya. She ran quickly to him.
"Quite different, and still the same," thought Nikolai, looking at her face, all lighted up by the moon. He slipped his hands under the cloak that covered her head, embraced her, drew her to him, and kissed the lips that wore a moustache and smelt of burnt cork. Sonya kissed him full on the lips, and putting out her little hands held them against his cheeks on both sides.
"Sonya!...Nikolenka!..." was all they said.
[And, on the ride home, Sonya goes in Nikolai's sledge.]
Nikolai drove smoothly along the way back, making no effort now to get in front. He kept gazing in the fantastic moonlight at Sonya, and seeking, in the continually shifting light behind those eyebrows and moustachse, his own Sonya, the old Sonya, and the Sonya of today, from whom he had resolved never to be parted. He watched her intently, and when he recognized the old Sonya and the new Sonya, and recalled, as he smelt it, that smell of burnt cork that mingled with the thrill of the kiss, he drew in a deep breath of the frosty air [....] The same Circassian, with a moustache and sparkling eyes, peeping from under the sable hood, was still sitting there, and that Circassian was Sonya, and that Sonya was for certain now his happy and loving future wife.