From 60543b1c047b96fe478a025e95f26741786037ba Mon Sep 17 00:00:00 2001 From: Jeff Hacker Date: Thu, 28 May 2015 13:33:40 -0400 Subject: [PATCH 01/16] Initial commit --- word_frequencey.py | 1 + 1 file changed, 1 insertion(+) create mode 100644 word_frequencey.py diff --git a/word_frequencey.py b/word_frequencey.py new file mode 100644 index 0000000..15c310a --- /dev/null +++ b/word_frequencey.py @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +# You are going to get this. From e5db5308e588050fe0c7841f26d22be37ec45199 Mon Sep 17 00:00:00 2001 From: Jeff Hacker Date: Thu, 28 May 2015 17:04:27 -0400 Subject: [PATCH 02/16] text into string, logic pre-function --- .DS_Store | Bin 0 -> 6148 bytes word_frequencey.py | 1 - word_frequency.py | 18 ++++++++++++++++++ 3 files changed, 18 insertions(+), 1 deletion(-) create mode 100644 .DS_Store delete mode 100644 word_frequencey.py create mode 100644 word_frequency.py diff --git a/.DS_Store b/.DS_Store new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..a178605f7ad6ef82a9e1a688821ae48eca50d1fa GIT binary patch literal 6148 zcmeHKyH3ME5S)b+0h)*cQM#l;;tx#ZAf=!Q9{?l{mBE2H0(bsEK7hXov$qF|iA9MJ z>`J?HuN~iw+;VM4^1_1hWMbScsX>(`SP8{4LO5nJ}2&cG5J}x?leq)o)eGe1P z`y3fI=3maHMLA`!N^?O!SqEbY*vAsLT;~D>=3H@w7gXb-mGk-~=Mc{*@q`@LxFgQ- zh!x`lW{fpi7O2}CGEok?tk;ad(Kj45c`Gt48N0aNn7_G(KtSyflmc=e@N(xX~f1bY#j{Y2|(0qbTF3n!mK$-#57`K$R3(lD$!CUJ~717 z*`CC4X~f3R(joEjA@R!}j~5AFCw~%#LsCPJu7E4hR$$kv13mvo{AD^H`Rx?1xdN`h zA5%bj*;O{=qT<=QwLCp*6Z#EZO~*A_pt0P#1hAs}$Z_bj{zS_hmqu(1l||b_I?*oz MK@bnFzz-F##Q*>R literal 0 HcmV?d00001 diff --git a/word_frequencey.py b/word_frequencey.py deleted file mode 100644 index 15c310a..0000000 --- a/word_frequencey.py +++ /dev/null @@ -1 +0,0 @@ -# You are going to get this. diff --git a/word_frequency.py b/word_frequency.py new file mode 100644 index 0000000..008ac31 --- /dev/null +++ b/word_frequency.py @@ -0,0 +1,18 @@ +import re + +with open('sample.txt', ) as temp_file: + text_to_analyze = temp_file.read() + text_to_analyze = re.sub(r'[^A-Za-z\s]', "", text_to_analyze.lower()) + print(text_to_analyze) + + +histogram = {} + +for word in text_to_analyze: + if word in histogram: + histogram[word] += 1 + else: + histogram[word] = 1 + + +print(histogram) From 13e4c69cde4e9608272b2c3e0a4219f2052bbabc Mon Sep 17 00:00:00 2001 From: Jeff Hacker Date: Thu, 28 May 2015 20:27:26 -0400 Subject: [PATCH 03/16] put logic in func Analyze --- .DS_Store | Bin 6148 -> 6148 bytes word_frequency.py | 13 ++++++++----- 2 files changed, 8 insertions(+), 5 deletions(-) diff --git a/.DS_Store b/.DS_Store index a178605f7ad6ef82a9e1a688821ae48eca50d1fa..6eee11f1c3238c92082d9e27823d226c7961caac 100644 GIT binary patch delta 27 jcmZoMXffDO%E%}gEZIrEHtoIsWnk02@gR ABme*a diff --git a/word_frequency.py b/word_frequency.py index 008ac31..6509023 100644 --- a/word_frequency.py +++ b/word_frequency.py @@ -3,16 +3,19 @@ with open('sample.txt', ) as temp_file: text_to_analyze = temp_file.read() text_to_analyze = re.sub(r'[^A-Za-z\s]', "", text_to_analyze.lower()) + list_to_analyze = text_to_analyze.split() print(text_to_analyze) histogram = {} -for word in text_to_analyze: - if word in histogram: - histogram[word] += 1 - else: - histogram[word] = 1 +def analyze (): + for word in list_to_analyze: + if word in histogram: + histogram[word] += 1 + else: + histogram[word] = 1 +analyze() print(histogram) From b8501a6a0f3f33af28f2424b91cb58ad1c22fe57 Mon Sep 17 00:00:00 2001 From: Jeff Hacker Date: Thu, 28 May 2015 21:16:22 -0400 Subject: [PATCH 04/16] Sorted by Key so far --- word_frequency.py | 32 ++++++++++++++++++++++---------- 1 file changed, 22 insertions(+), 10 deletions(-) diff --git a/word_frequency.py b/word_frequency.py index 6509023..0aaf652 100644 --- a/word_frequency.py +++ b/word_frequency.py @@ -1,21 +1,33 @@ import re +# import collections # Google search with open('sample.txt', ) as temp_file: text_to_analyze = temp_file.read() - text_to_analyze = re.sub(r'[^A-Za-z\s]', "", text_to_analyze.lower()) + text_to_analyze = re.sub(r'[^A-Za-z\s]', "", text_to_analyze.lower()) #got help on the \s Sorren list_to_analyze = text_to_analyze.split() - print(text_to_analyze) + # print(text_to_analyze) histogram = {} -def analyze (): - for word in list_to_analyze: - if word in histogram: - histogram[word] += 1 - else: - histogram[word] = 1 +for word in list_to_analyze: # class work + if word in histogram: + histogram[word] += 1 + else: + histogram[word] = 1 -analyze() -print(histogram) + +# list(histogram.items()) +# print(histogram) +# histogram = sorted((v, k) for k, v in histogram.items()) # Google search +# print(histogram) + + +for key in sorted(histogram): + print(key, ':', histogram[key]) + + +# analyze() +# sorted_list() +# print(histogram) From 3f2ddd84ea9e35666489174a875ac0dea682037c Mon Sep 17 00:00:00 2001 From: Jeff Hacker Date: Thu, 28 May 2015 21:21:09 -0400 Subject: [PATCH 05/16] Sorted descending by Key --- word_frequency.py | 12 ++++++------ 1 file changed, 6 insertions(+), 6 deletions(-) diff --git a/word_frequency.py b/word_frequency.py index 0aaf652..a4da440 100644 --- a/word_frequency.py +++ b/word_frequency.py @@ -18,14 +18,14 @@ histogram[word] = 1 -# list(histogram.items()) -# print(histogram) -# histogram = sorted((v, k) for k, v in histogram.items()) # Google search -# print(histogram) +list(histogram.items()) +print(histogram) +histogram = reversed(sorted((v, k) for k, v in histogram.items())) # Google search modded by another Google search +print(histogram) -for key in sorted(histogram): - print(key, ':', histogram[key]) +# for key in reversed(sorted(histogram)): +# print(key, ':', histogram[key]) # analyze() From 641eb3d39d6aed3b7b0c9c4a9d194d8fd9ea1c39 Mon Sep 17 00:00:00 2001 From: Jeff Hacker Date: Fri, 29 May 2015 12:24:24 -0400 Subject: [PATCH 06/16] who knows --- word_frequency.py | 13 ++++++++----- 1 file changed, 8 insertions(+), 5 deletions(-) diff --git a/word_frequency.py b/word_frequency.py index a4da440..6cde020 100644 --- a/word_frequency.py +++ b/word_frequency.py @@ -11,23 +11,26 @@ histogram = {} + for word in list_to_analyze: # class work if word in histogram: histogram[word] += 1 else: histogram[word] = 1 +# print(histogram) + -list(histogram.items()) -print(histogram) -histogram = reversed(sorted((v, k) for k, v in histogram.items())) # Google search modded by another Google search -print(histogram) + +# list(histogram.items()) +# print(histogram) +# histogram = reversed(sorted((v, k) for k, v in histogram.items())) # Google search modded by another Google search +# print(histogram) # for key in reversed(sorted(histogram)): # print(key, ':', histogram[key]) -# analyze() # sorted_list() # print(histogram) From 5e2bfa90e29d9e6295c8e0754c77abefbbdfbfb2 Mon Sep 17 00:00:00 2001 From: Jeff Hacker Date: Sun, 31 May 2015 11:04:30 -0400 Subject: [PATCH 07/16] Cleaned out some bad ideas --- word_frequency.py | 26 +++++--------------------- 1 file changed, 5 insertions(+), 21 deletions(-) diff --git a/word_frequency.py b/word_frequency.py index 6cde020..36ff8e8 100644 --- a/word_frequency.py +++ b/word_frequency.py @@ -3,34 +3,18 @@ with open('sample.txt', ) as temp_file: text_to_analyze = temp_file.read() - text_to_analyze = re.sub(r'[^A-Za-z\s]', "", text_to_analyze.lower()) #got help on the \s Sorren + # got help on the \s from Soren + text_to_analyze = re.sub(r'[^A-Za-z\s]', "", text_to_analyze.lower()) list_to_analyze = text_to_analyze.split() # print(text_to_analyze) histogram = {} - - - -for word in list_to_analyze: # class work +for word in list_to_analyze: # class work if word in histogram: histogram[word] += 1 else: histogram[word] = 1 -# print(histogram) - - - -# list(histogram.items()) -# print(histogram) -# histogram = reversed(sorted((v, k) for k, v in histogram.items())) # Google search modded by another Google search -# print(histogram) - - -# for key in reversed(sorted(histogram)): -# print(key, ':', histogram[key]) - - -# sorted_list() -# print(histogram) +histogram_list = histogram.items() +print(histogram_list) From 2f778efa79bd443127c6c23acf1780cf2c459f73 Mon Sep 17 00:00:00 2001 From: Jeff Hacker Date: Sun, 31 May 2015 12:10:40 -0400 Subject: [PATCH 08/16] placeholder while I go back to earlier commit --- word_frequency.py | 5 +++-- 1 file changed, 3 insertions(+), 2 deletions(-) diff --git a/word_frequency.py b/word_frequency.py index 36ff8e8..467601c 100644 --- a/word_frequency.py +++ b/word_frequency.py @@ -16,5 +16,6 @@ else: histogram[word] = 1 -histogram_list = histogram.items() -print(histogram_list) +histogram_list = list(histogram.items()) + +print(histogram_list[1:20]) From 31e9f1f4f246e33a183812216c91ffede697e32e Mon Sep 17 00:00:00 2001 From: Jeff Hacker Date: Sun, 31 May 2015 15:29:24 -0400 Subject: [PATCH 09/16] word_frequency functin working, top 20 print --- __pycache__/word_frequency.cpython-34.pyc | Bin 0 -> 839 bytes word_frequency.py | 26 +++++++++++++++------- 2 files changed, 18 insertions(+), 8 deletions(-) create mode 100644 __pycache__/word_frequency.cpython-34.pyc diff --git a/__pycache__/word_frequency.cpython-34.pyc b/__pycache__/word_frequency.cpython-34.pyc new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..fa93bde0e28bd51824889aee0cd4132d297aa011 GIT binary patch literal 839 zcmY*W$!-%t5PdzHx3Qf7LbA9bBqKRKAtYo)AadanfkG5A5X{6~!OJX8_c+N|;S@OY z9ee|S(pOHo@By5tcA^kku5!KVs;+u(euvHaqffKl`!4Vcw@%3Mb2j~xo#dZD0z@~l zKqNo{QwP$)g@7Oz(zVg|XNWwIhpCSX?g>D^v;yft`k(;Qs?A@xt1E`JRaqT-Jmk&0 z3AZ#L1IP-#avXx1pa!NbTPCZJHORWXl3W(@L?>#4)_5|m^)&8)JoLrkgm%5NsK()Zcr;1Kc#2{fwF^4?PeoTR4vnAWr=*Op=gFi{ zft_N%=M|OUN@wFw_%W?2cDz4VlkE1gR&{l~ahl6TLYtPgzQ- Date: Sun, 31 May 2015 17:50:39 -0400 Subject: [PATCH 10/16] safety save --- __pycache__/word_frequency.cpython-34.pyc | Bin 839 -> 626 bytes word_frequency.py | 16 +++++++++------- 2 files changed, 9 insertions(+), 7 deletions(-) diff --git a/__pycache__/word_frequency.cpython-34.pyc b/__pycache__/word_frequency.cpython-34.pyc index fa93bde0e28bd51824889aee0cd4132d297aa011..cefdc227eea3d19785974fed45aa730b5e9f7405 100644 GIT binary patch delta 306 zcmX@k_K8LL9S<+phpg<-*~|D1!8BAdM6-}$-q#{$WUR*P{Y9B606Hl%fwIvM2rmCYz##PAO?`j zDhV{noY|(37i1(v48#csGJ`dl{9b~LU&)}!e2YIPv$!O_BtJeeFEOXGDm98T11OL$ zm|m2adyAz!zbK^$WPK6q3@Z*bu^ z_yPVywr=dkgI)8^rv34G$;a;V>=ir)u|*Sig% zUWBwDb9koSfpVdWxGJF!$ULMCS>RuiwmIkvqh5xpK$Rf{q>C2=)xLlrw(pe&uU^mi zb0cSDskYdyMsUA|M_~JS6;B2p4J1I*f?nZt^jH$I_D-lOqX|Hg-mWG(3^o zmyI}yE_BfH%(NU5@sr38+CkWTP^mi~M>pq&_v9s(a4zy!gv^80Y4_6q*86IfKp+*ERtK5y`llK!Ijyz7__pGZ}1DiN#dV zC7$QB>L?wn{K063xHmQY5_>*B&cxrEWKOe Date: Sun, 31 May 2015 18:37:10 -0400 Subject: [PATCH 11/16] Added a printed histogram --- word_frequency.py | 25 +++++++++++++++++++++---- 1 file changed, 21 insertions(+), 4 deletions(-) diff --git a/word_frequency.py b/word_frequency.py index 7adfb3b..e134136 100644 --- a/word_frequency.py +++ b/word_frequency.py @@ -26,8 +26,25 @@ def word_frequency(list_to_analyze): # def sorted_by_val(): sorted_by_val = sorted(histogram.items(), key=lambda t: t[1], reverse=True) +# _____________ + +hash_a, hash_b = sorted_by_val[0] +hash_mult = 50 / int(hash_b) +# print("hash mult is {}".format(hash_mult)) + +print("Here are the top 20 words.") +print("\n") counter = 0 -print(sorted_by_val[0]) -# print(type(sorted_by_val)) -# histogram_list = histogram.items() -# print(histogram_list) +while counter < 20: + word, word_count = sorted_by_val[counter] + # print("word {}".format(word)) + # print("word count {}".format(int(word_count))) + counter += 1 + hashes = word_count * hash_mult + # print(hashes) + # print(word) + # print(word_count) + print(word + "\n" + "#" * int(hashes)) +print("\n") +print("\n") +print("\n") From de31183fd34614805a5e8145b756da927f0efb84 Mon Sep 17 00:00:00 2001 From: Jeff Hacker Date: Sun, 31 May 2015 19:12:20 -0400 Subject: [PATCH 12/16] Added optional books as user input --- .DS_Store | Bin 6148 -> 6148 bytes __pycache__/word_frequency.cpython-34.pyc | Bin 626 -> 0 bytes phil_the_fiddler.rtf | 6591 ++ the_young_explorer.rtf | 7094 +++ war_and_peace.rtf | 65016 ++++++++++++++++++++ word_frequency.py | 14 +- 6 files changed, 78714 insertions(+), 1 deletion(-) delete mode 100644 __pycache__/word_frequency.cpython-34.pyc create mode 100644 phil_the_fiddler.rtf create mode 100644 the_young_explorer.rtf create mode 100644 war_and_peace.rtf diff --git a/.DS_Store b/.DS_Store index 6eee11f1c3238c92082d9e27823d226c7961caac..b0ed6bdd7948d697be1d8e23ab20eee9e23ee479 100644 GIT binary patch delta 293 zcmaKoF%E(-6o&tT31Cdn1lhd+Vf6?&c>@$gC22qjMx9(393?EyE*=1H;Oc!G@pmx} z#UY-(l`&?2?Bw zI8=_gC(|&HX}}z^FrqG$(KJBS5%IzP;P*(eL4pOD5q7*m(v$t6JxDrJ>YK*a!xmF! v__PUM;*$|^9n$`O&qQb1k!sh8xVLIeH+2?)AAPEoX$^JOfCH$<)=hl@h>bcR delta 93 zcmZoMXfc=|#>B`mu~2NHo}wrV0|Nsi1A_nqgD-2=Fw^F=}X)v8*zKYckIq}gEo*<4tRgiGYZ%OGTX%VyrN zn*tkw)pJ|}M;8NZJY4e?m_^Xf9AFwgVYwIn!DYwk-o_j`V|dc{j&EH1U+DX`S4>Sc ztkf_ov!Y&8+MIAeebd?823JZ;?bLVf-+6LsNSh?5@mNzm$wo8M$&nf@=TufEd0$r( zRVMGWDu?HpmdQlTiF?cv*J!{smrE)~^^Okj=>DR%U6*km>bh-Xb`X*1h*&)Gx}I(_ z@5k2DWIbhUWNK3pkEs?^rcH*6;dok*4K!sk?NzjTxS93M@~aICbw%2SW>HKl9dXB9 j+xsnVQG*|B<6y4jvY=P)w~U)9=21F+PsH9+@i_PouyvPX diff --git a/phil_the_fiddler.rtf b/phil_the_fiddler.rtf new file mode 100644 index 0000000..26f3f65 --- /dev/null +++ b/phil_the_fiddler.rtf @@ -0,0 +1,6591 @@ +{\rtf1\ansi\ansicpg1252\cocoartf1347\cocoasubrtf570 +{\fonttbl\f0\fmodern\fcharset0 Courier;} +{\colortbl;\red255\green255\blue255;\red0\green0\blue0;} +\margl1440\margr1440\vieww10800\viewh8400\viewkind0 +\deftab720 +\pard\pardeftab720 + +\f0\fs24 \cf2 \expnd0\expndtw0\kerning0 +\outl0\strokewidth0 \strokec2 The Project Gutenberg EBook of Phil the Fiddler, by Horatio Alger, Jr.\ +\ +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with\ +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or\ +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included\ +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org\ +\ +\ +Title: Phil the Fiddler\ +\ +Author: Horatio Alger, Jr.\ +\ +Release Date: March 18, 2006 [EBook #671]\ +\ +Language: English\ +\ +\ +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PHIL THE FIDDLER ***\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +Produced by Charles Keller and David Widger\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +PHIL, THE FIDDLER\ +\ +By Horatio Alger, Jr.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +PREFACE\ +\ +Among the most interesting and picturesque classes of street children in\ +New York are the young Italian musicians, who wander about our streets\ +with harps, violins, or tambourines, playing wherever they can secure\ +an audience. They become Americanized less easily than children of other\ +nationalities, and both in dress and outward appearance retain their\ +foreign look, while few, even after several years' residence, acquire\ +even a passable knowledge of the English language.\ +\ +In undertaking, therefore, to describe this phase of street life, I\ +found, at the outset, unusual difficulty on account of my inadequate\ +information. But I was fortunate enough to make the acquaintance of\ +two prominent Italian gentlemen, long resident in New York--Mr. A. E.\ +Cerqua, superintendent of the Italian school at the Five Points, and\ +through his introduction, of Mr. G. F. Secchi de Casale, editor of\ +the well-known Eco d'Italia--from whom I obtained full and trustworthy\ +information. A series of articles contributed by Mr. De Casale to\ +his paper, on the Italian street children, in whom he has long felt a\ +patriotic and sympathetic interest, I have found of great service, and I\ +freely acknowledge that, but for the information thus acquired, I should\ +have been unable to write the present volume.\ +\ +My readers will learn with surprise, probably, of the hard life led by\ +these children, and the inhuman treatment which they receive from the\ +speculators who buy them from their parents in Italy. It is not without\ +reason that Mr. De Casale speaks of them as the "White Slaves" of New\ +York. I may add, in passing, that they are quite distinct from the\ +Italian bootblacks and newsboys who are to be found in Chatham Street\ +and the vicinity of the City Hall Park. These last are the children of\ +resident Italians of the poorer class, and are much better off than\ +the musicians. It is from their ranks that the Italian school, before\ +referred to, draws its pupils.\ +\ +If the story of "Phil the Fiddler," in revealing for the first time to\ +the American public the hardships and ill treatment of these wandering\ +musicians shall excite an active sympathy in their behalf, the author\ +will feel abundantly repaid for his labors.\ +\ +NEW YORK, APRIL 2, 1872.\ +\ +\ +\ +CONTENTS\ +\ + CHAPTER\ + I. PHIL THE FIDDLER\ + II. PHIL AND HIS PROTECTOR\ + III. GIACOMO\ + IV. AN INVITATION TO SUPPER\ + V. ON THE FERRY BOAT\ + VI. THE BARROOM\ + VII. THE HOME OF THE BOYS\ + VIII. A COLD DAY\ + IX. PIETRO THE SPY\ + X. FRENCH'S HOTEL\ + XI. THE BOYS RECEPTION\ + XII. GIACOMO'S PRESENTIMENTS\ + XIII. PHIL FINDS A CAPITALIST\ + XIV. THE TAMBOURINE GIRL\ + XV. PHIL'S NEW PLANS\ + XVI. THE FASHIONABLE PARTY\ + XVII. THE PADRONE IS ANXIOUS\ + XVIII. PHIL ELUDES HIS PURSUER\ + XIX. PIETRO'S PURSUIT\ + XX. PIETRO'S DISAPPOINTMENT\ + XXI. THE SIEGE\ + XXII. THE SIEGE IS RAISED\ + XXIII. A PITCHED BATTLE\ + XXIV. THE DEATH OF GIACOMO\ + XXV. PHIL FINDS A FRIEND\ + XXVI. CONCLUSION\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +PHIL THE FIDDLER\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER I\ +\ +PHIL THE FIDDLER\ +\ +"Viva Garibaldi!" sang a young Italian boy in an uptown street,\ +accompanying himself on a violin which, from its battered appearance,\ +seemed to have met with hard usage.\ +\ +As the young singer is to be the hero of my story, I will pause to\ +describe him. He was twelve years old, but small of his age. His\ +complexion was a brilliant olive, with the dark eyes peculiar to his\ +race, and his hair black. In spite of the dirt, his face was strikingly\ +handsome, especially when lighted up by a smile, as was often the case,\ +for in spite of the hardships of his lot, and these were neither few nor\ +light, Filippo was naturally merry and light-hearted.\ +\ +He wore a velveteen jacket, and pantaloons which atoned, by their extra\ +length, for the holes resulting from hard usage and antiquity. His\ +shoes, which appeared to be wholly unacquainted with blacking, were,\ +like his pantaloons, two or three sizes too large for him, making it\ +necessary for him to shuffle along ungracefully.\ +\ +It was now ten o'clock in the morning. Two hours had elapsed since\ +Filippo, or Phil, as I shall call him, for the benefit of my readers\ +unfamiliar with Italian names, had left the miserable home in Crosby\ +Street, where he and forty other boys lived in charge of a middle-aged\ +Italian, known as the padrone. Of this person, and the relations between\ +him and the boys, I shall hereafter speak. At present I propose to\ +accompany Phil.\ +\ +Though he had wandered about, singing and playing, for two hours, Phil\ +had not yet received a penny. This made him somewhat uneasy, for he knew\ +that at night he must carry home a satisfactory sum to the padrone, or\ +he would be brutally beaten; and poor Phil knew from sad experience that\ +this hard taskmaster had no mercy in such cases.\ +\ +The block in which he stood was adjacent to Fifth Avenue, and was lined\ +on either side with brown-stone houses. It was quiet, and but few passed\ +through it during the busy hours of the day. But Phil's hope was that\ +some money might be thrown him from a window of some of the fine houses\ +before which he played, but he seemed likely to be disappointed, for he\ +played ten minutes without apparently attracting any attention. He\ +was about to change his position, when the basement door of one of the\ +houses opened, and a servant came out, bareheaded, and approached him.\ +Phil regarded her with distrust, for he was often ordered away as a\ +nuisance. He stopped playing, and, hugging his violin closely, regarded\ +her watchfully.\ +\ +"You're to come in," said the girl abruptly.\ +\ +"Che cosa volete?"(1) said Phil, suspiciously.\ +\ + (1) "What do you want?"\ +\ +"I don't understand your Italian rubbish," said the girl. "You're to\ +come into the house."\ +\ +In general, boys of Phil's class are slow in learning English. After\ +months, and even years sometimes, their knowledge is limited to a few\ +words or phrases. On the other hand, they pick up French readily, and as\ +many of them, en route for America, spend some weeks, or months, in the\ +French metropolis, it is common to find them able to speak the language\ +somewhat. Phil, however, was an exception, and could manage to speak\ +English a little, though not as well as he could understand it.\ +\ +"What for I go?" he asked, a little distrustfully.\ +\ +"My young master wants to hear you play on your fiddle," said the\ +servant. "He's sick, and can't come out."\ +\ +"All right!" said Phil, using one of the first English phrases he had\ +caught. "I will go."\ +\ +"Come along, then."\ +\ +Phil followed his guide into the basement, thence up two flight of\ +stairs, and along a handsome hall into a chamber. The little fiddler,\ +who had never before been invited into a fine house, looked with\ +admiration at the handsome furniture, and especially at the pictures\ +upon the wall, for, like most of his nation, he had a love for whatever\ +was beautiful, whether in nature or art.\ +\ +The chamber had two occupants. One, a boy of twelve years, was lying\ +in a bed, propped up by pillows. His thin, pale face spoke of long\ +sickness, and contrasted vividly with the brilliant brown face of the\ +little Italian boy, who seemed the perfect picture of health. Sitting\ +beside the bed was a lady of middle age and pleasant expression. It was\ +easy to see by the resemblance that she was the mother of the sick boy.\ +\ +Phil looked from one to the other, uncertain what was required of him.\ +\ +"Can you speak English?" asked Mrs. Leigh.\ +\ +"Si, signora, a little," answered our hero.\ +\ +"My son is sick, and would like to hear you play a little."\ +\ +"And sing, too," added the sick boy, from the bed.\ +\ +Phil struck up the song he had been singing in the street, a song well\ +known to all who have stopped to listen to the boys of his class, with\ +the refrain, "Viva Garibaldi." His voice was clear and melodious, and\ +in spite of the poor quality of his instrument, he sang with so much\ +feeling that the effect was agreeable.\ +\ +The sick boy listened with evident pleasure, for he, too, had a taste\ +for music.\ +\ +"I wish I could understand Italian," he said, "I think it must be a good\ +song."\ +\ +"Perhaps he can sing some English song," suggested Mrs. Leigh.\ +\ +"Can you sing in English?" she asked.\ +\ +Phil hesitated a moment, and then broke into the common street ditty,\ +"Shoe fly, don't bouder me," giving a quaint sound to the words by his\ +Italian accent.\ +\ +"Do you know any more?" asked Henry Leigh, when our hero had finished.\ +\ +"Not English," said Phil, shaking his head.\ +\ +"You ought to learn more."\ +\ +"I can play more," said Phil, "but I know not the words."\ +\ +"Then play some tunes."\ +\ +Thereupon the little Italian struck up "Yankee Doodle," which he played\ +with spirit and evident enjoyment.\ +\ +"Do you know the name of that?" asked Henry.\ +\ +Phil shook his head.\ +\ +"It is 'Yankee Doodle.'"\ +\ +Phil tried to pronounce it, but the words in his mouth had a droll\ +sound, and made them laugh.\ +\ +"How old are you?" asked Henry.\ +\ +"Twelve years."\ +\ +"Then you are quite as old as I am."\ +\ +"I wish you were as well and strong as he seems to be," said Mrs. Leigh,\ +sighing, as she looked at Henry's pale face.\ +\ +That was little likely to be. Always a delicate child, Henry had a\ +year previous contracted a cold, which had attacked his lungs, and had\ +gradually increased until there seemed little doubt that in the long\ +struggle with disease nature must succumb, and early death ensue.\ +\ +"How long have you been in this country?"\ +\ +"Un anno."\ +\ +"How long is that?"\ +\ +"A year," said Henry. "I know that, because 'annus' means a year in\ +Latin."\ +\ +"Si, signor, a year," said Phil.\ +\ +"And where do you come from?"\ +\ +"Da Napoli."\ +\ +"That means from Naples, I suppose."\ +\ +"Si, signor."\ +\ +Most of the little Italian musicians to be found in our streets are\ +brought from Calabria, the southern portion of Italy, where they\ +are purchased from their parents, for a fixed sum, or rate of annual\ +payment. But it is usual for them when questioned, to say that they come\ +from Naples, that being the principal city in that portion of Italy, or\ +indeed in the entire kingdom.\ +\ +"Who do you live with," continued Henry.\ +\ +"With the padrone."\ +\ +"And who is the padrone?"\ +\ +"He take care of me--he bring me from Italy."\ +\ +"Is he kind to you?"\ +\ +Phil shrugged his shoulders.\ +\ +"He beat me sometimes," he answered.\ +\ +"Beats you? What for?"\ +\ +"If I bring little money."\ +\ +"Does he beat you hard?"\ +\ +"Si, signor, with a stick."\ +\ +"He must be a bad man," said Henry, indignantly.\ +\ +"How much money must you carry home?"\ +\ +"Two dollars."\ +\ +"But it isn't your fault, if people will not give you money."\ +\ +"Non importa. He beat me."\ +\ +"He ought to be beaten himself."\ +\ +Phil shrugged his shoulders. Like most boys of his class, to him the\ +padrone seemed all-powerful. The idea that his oppressive taskmaster\ +should be punished for his cruelty had never dawned upon him. Knowing\ +nothing of any law that would protect him, he submitted to it as a\ +necessity, from which there was no escape except by running away. He\ +had not come to that yet, but some of his companions had done so, and he\ +might some day.\ +\ +After this conversation he played another tune. Mrs. Leigh drew out her\ +purse, and gave him fifty cents. Phil took his fiddle under his arm,\ +and, following the servant, who now reappeared, emerged into the street,\ +and moved onward.\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER II\ +\ +PHIL AND HIS PROTECTOR\ +\ +To a certain extent Phil was his own master; that is, he was at liberty\ +to wander where he liked, provided he did not neglect his business, and\ +returned to the lodging-house at night with the required sum of money.\ +But woe to him if he were caught holding back any of the money for his\ +own use. In that case, he would be beaten, and sent to bed without his\ +supper, while the padrone, according to the terms of his contract with\ +the distant parent would withhold from the amount due the latter ten\ +times the sum kept by the boy. In the middle of the day he was allowed\ +to spend three cents for bread, which was the only dinner allowed him.\ +Of course, the boys were tempted to regale themselves more luxuriously,\ +but they incurred a great risk in doing so. Sometimes the padrone\ +followed them secretly, or employed others to do so, and so was able to\ +detect them. Besides, they traveled, in general, by twos and threes,\ +and the system of espionage was encouraged by the padrone. So mutual\ +distrust was inspired, and the fear of being reported made the boys\ +honest.\ +\ +Phil left the house of Mr. Leigh in good spirits. Though he had earned\ +nothing before, the fifty cents he had just received made a good\ +beginning, and inspired in him the hope of getting together enough to\ +save him a beating, for one night at least.\ +\ +He walked down toward Sixth Avenue, and turning the corner walked down\ +town. At length he paused in front of a tobacconist's shop, and began to\ +play. But he had chosen an unfortunate time and place. The tobacconist\ +had just discovered a deficiency in his money account, which he\ +suspected to be occasioned by the dishonesty of his assistant. In\ +addition to this he had risen with a headache, so that he was in a\ +decidedly bad humor. Music had no charms for him at that moment, and he\ +no sooner heard the first strains of Phil's violin than he rushed from\ +the shop bareheaded, and dashed impetuously at the young fiddler.\ +\ +"Get away from my shop, you little vagabond!" he cried. "If I had my\ +way, you should all be sent out of the country."\ +\ +Phil was quick to take a hint. He saw the menace in the shopkeeper's\ +eyes, and, stopping abruptly, ran farther down the street, hugging his\ +fiddle, which he was afraid the angry tobacconist might seize and break.\ +This, to him, would be an irreparable misfortune and subject him to a\ +severe punishment, though the fault would not be his.\ +\ +Next he strolled into a side street, and began to play in front of some\ +dwelling-houses. Two or three young children, who had been playing in\ +the street, gathered about him, and one of them gave him a penny. They\ +were clamorous for another tune, but Phil could not afford to work for\ +nothing, and, seeing no prospects of additional pay, took his violin,\ +and walked away, much to the regret of his young auditors, who, though\ +not rich, were appreciative. They followed him to the end of the block,\ +hoping that he would play again, but they were disappointed.\ +\ +Phil played two or three times more, managing to obtain in all\ +twenty-five cents additional. He reached the corner of Thirteenth Street\ +just as the large public school, known as the Thirteenth Street School,\ +was dismissed for its noon intermission.\ +\ +"Give us a tune, Johnny," cried Edward Eustis, one of the oldest boys.\ +\ +"Yes, a tune," joined in several others.\ +\ +This was an invitation to which Phil was always willing to respond.\ +Besides, he knew from experience that boys were more generous, in\ +proportion to their means, than those of larger growth, and he hoped to\ +get enough from the crowd around him to increase his store to a dollar.\ +\ +The boys gathered around the little minstrel, who struck up an Italian\ +tune, but without the words.\ +\ +"Sing, sing!" cried the boys.\ +\ +Phil began to sing. His clear, fresh voice produced a favorable\ +impression upon the boys.\ +\ +"He's a bully singer," said one. "I can't sing much better myself."\ +\ +"You sing! Your singing would be enough to scare a dozen tom cats."\ +\ +"Then we should be well matched. Look here, Johnny, can't you sing\ +something in English?"\ +\ +Phil, in response to this request, played and sang "Shoo Fly!" which\ +suiting the boys' taste, he was called upon to repeat.\ +\ +The song being finished, Edward Eustis took off his cap, and went around\ +the circle.\ +\ +"Now, boys, you have a chance to show your liberality," he said. "I'll\ +start the collection with five cents."\ +\ +"That's ahead of me," said James Marcus. "Justice to a large and\ +expensive family will prevent me contributing anything more than two\ +cents."\ +\ +"The smallest favors thankfully received," said Edward.\ +\ +"Then take that, and be thankful," said Tom Lane, dropping in a penny.\ +\ +"I haven't got any money," said Frank Gaylord, "but here's an apple;"\ +and he dropped a large red apple into the cap.\ +\ +Phil; watching with interest the various contributions, was best pleased\ +with the last. The money he must carry to the padrone. The apple he\ +might keep for himself, and it would vary agreeably his usual meager\ +fare.\ +\ +"The biggest contribution yet," said Edward.\ +\ +"Here, Sprague, you are liberal. What'll you give?"\ +\ +"My note at ninety days."\ +\ +"You might fail before it comes due."\ +\ +"Then take three cents. 'Tis all I have; 'I can no more, though poor the\ +offering be.'"\ +\ +"Oh, don't quote Shakespeare."\ +\ +"It isn't Shakespeare; it's Milton."\ +\ +"Just as much one as the other."\ +\ +"Here, Johnny," said Edward, after going the rounds, "hold your hands,\ +and I'll pour out the money. You can retire from business now on a\ +fortune."\ +\ +Phil was accustomed to be addressed as Johnny, that being the generic\ +name for boy in New York. He deposited the money in his pocket, and,\ +taking his fiddle, played once more in acknowledgment of the donation.\ +The boys now dispersed, leaving Phil to go on his way. He took out the\ +apple with the intention of eating it, when a rude boy snatched it from\ +his hand.\ +\ +"Give it back," said Phil, angrily.\ +\ +"Don't you wish you may get it?" said the other, holding it out of his\ +reach.\ +\ +The young musician had little chance of redress, his antagonist was a\ +head taller than himself, and, besides, he would not have dared lay down\ +his fiddle to fight, lest it might be broken.\ +\ +"Give it to me," he said, stamping his foot.\ +\ +"I mean to eat it myself," said the other, coolly. "It's too good for\ +the likes of you."\ +\ +"You're a thief."\ +\ +"Don't you call me names, you little Italian ragamuffin, or I'll hit\ +you," said the other, menacingly.\ +\ +"It is my apple."\ +\ +"I'm going to eat it."\ +\ +But the speaker was mistaken. As he held the apple above his head, it\ +was suddenly snatched from him. He looked around angrily, and confronted\ +Edward Eustis, who, seeing Phil's trouble from a little distance, had at\ +once come to his rescue.\ +\ +"What did you do that for?" demanded the thief.\ +\ +"What did you take the boy's apple for?"\ +\ +"Because I felt like it."\ +\ +"Then I took it from you for the same reason."\ +\ +"Do you want to fight?" blustered the rowdy.\ +\ +"Not particularly."\ +\ +"Then hand me back that apple," returned the other.\ +\ +"Thank you; I shall only hand it to the rightful owner--that little\ +Italian boy. Are you not ashamed to rob him?"\ +\ +"Do you want to get hit?"\ +\ +"I wouldn't advise you to do it."\ +\ +The rowdy looked at the boy who confronted him. Edward was slightly\ +smaller, but there was a determined look in his eye which the bully,\ +who, like those of his class generally, was a coward at heart, did not\ +like. He mentally decided that it would be safer not to provoke him.\ +\ +"Come here, Johnny, and take your apple," said Edward.\ +\ +Phil advanced, and received back his property with satisfaction.\ +\ +"You'd better eat it now. I'll see that he doesn't disturb you."\ +\ +Phil followed the advice of his new friend promptly. He had eaten\ +nothing since seven o'clock, and then only a piece of dry bread and\ +cheese, and the apple, a rare luxury, he did not fail to relish. His\ +would-be robber scowled at him meanwhile, for he had promised himself\ +the pleasure of dispatching the fruit. Edward stood by till the apple\ +was eaten, and then turned away. The rowdy made a movement as if to\ +follow Phil, but Edward quickly detected him, and came back.\ +\ +"Don't you dare touch him," he said, significantly, "or you'll have to\ +settle accounts with me. Do you see that policeman? I am going to ask\ +him to have an eye on you. You'd better look out for yourself."\ +\ +The other turned at the caution, and seeing the approach of one of the\ +Metropolitan police quickly vanished. He had a wholesome fear of\ +these guardians of the public peace, and did not care to court their\ +attention.\ +\ +Edward turned away, but in a moment felt a hand tugging at his coat.\ +Looking around, he saw that it was Phil.\ +\ +"Grazia, signore," said Phil, gratefully.\ +\ +"I suppose that means 'Thank you'?"\ +\ +Phil nodded.\ +\ +"All right, Johnny! I am glad I was by to save you from that bully."\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER III\ +\ +GIACOMO\ +\ +After eating the apple Phil decided to buy his frugal dinner. He,\ +therefore, went into a baker's shop, and bought two penny rolls and a\ +piece of cheese. It was not a very luxurious repast, but with the apple\ +it was better than usual. A few steps from the shop door he met another\ +Italian boy, who was bound to the same padrone.\ +\ +"How much money have you, Giacomo?" asked Phil, speaking, of course, in\ +his native tongue.\ +\ +"Forty cents. How much have you?"\ +\ +"A dollar and twenty cents."\ +\ +"You are very lucky, Filippo."\ +\ +"A rich signora gave me fifty cents for playing to her sick boy. Then I\ +sang for some schoolboys, and they gave me some money."\ +\ +"I am afraid the padrone will beat me to-night."\ +\ +"He has not beat me for a week."\ +\ +"Have you had dinner, Filippo?"\ +\ +"Yes, I had some bread and cheese, and an apple."\ +\ +"Did you buy the apple?"\ +\ +"No; one of the schoolboys gave it to me. It was very good," said Phil,\ +in a tone of enjoyment. "I had not eaten one for a long time."\ +\ +"Nor I. Do you remember, Filippo, the oranges we had in Italy?"\ +\ +"I remember them well."\ +\ +"I was happy then," said Giacomo, sighing. "There was no padrone to beat\ +me, and I could run about and play. Now I have to sing and play all day.\ +I am so tired sometimes,--so tired, Filippo."\ +\ +"You are not so strong as I, Giacomo," said Phil, looking with some\ +complacency at his own stout limbs.\ +\ +"Don't you get tired, Filippo?"\ +\ +"Yes, often; but I don't care so much for that. But I don't like the\ +winter."\ +\ +"I thought I should die with cold sometimes last winter," said Giacomo,\ +shuddering. "Do you ever expect to go back to Italy, Filippo?"\ +\ +"Sometime."\ +\ +"I wish I could go now. I should like to see my dear mother and my\ +sisters."\ +\ +"And your father?"\ +\ +"I don't want to see him," said Giacomo, bitterly. "He sold me to the\ +padrone. My mother wept bitterly when I went away, but my father only\ +thought of the money."\ +\ +Filippo and Giacomo were from the same town in Calabria. They were the\ +sons of Italian peasants who had been unable to resist the offers of the\ +padrone, and for less than a hundred dollars each had sold his son into\ +the cruelest slavery. The boys were torn from their native hills, from\ +their families, and in a foreign land were doomed to walk the streets\ +from fourteen to sixteen hours in every twenty-four, gathering money\ +from which they received small benefit. Many times, as they trudged\ +through the streets, weary and hungry, sometimes cold, they thought with\ +homesick sadness of the sunny fields in which their earliest years had\ +been passed, but the hard realities of the life they were now leading\ +soon demanded their attention.\ +\ +Naturally light-hearted, Filippo, or Phil, bore his hard lot more\ +cheerfully than some of his comrades. But Giacomo was more delicate, and\ +less able to bear want and fatigue. His livelier comrade cheered him up,\ +and Giacomo always felt better after talking with Phil.\ +\ +As the two boys were walking together, a heavy hand was laid on the\ +shoulder of each, and a harsh voice said: "Is this the way you waste\ +your time, little rascals?"\ +\ +Both boys started, and looking up, recognized the padrone. He was a\ +short man, very dark with fierce black eyes and a sinister countenance.\ +It was his habit to walk about the streets from time to time, and keep a\ +watch, unobserved, upon his young apprentices, if they may be so called.\ +If he found them loitering about, or neglecting their work, they were\ +liable to receive a sharp reminder.\ +\ +The boys were both startled at his sudden appearance, but after\ +the first start, Phil, who was naturally courageous, recovered his\ +self-possession. Not so with Giacomo, who was the more afraid because he\ +knew he had gained but little money thus far.\ +\ +"We are not wasting our time, padrone," said Phil, looking up\ +fearlessly.\ +\ +"We will see about that. How long have you been together?"\ +\ +"Only five minutes."\ +\ +"How much money have you, Filippo?"\ +\ +"A dollar and twenty cents."\ +\ +"Good; you have done well. And how is it with you, Giacomo?"\ +\ +"I have forty cents."\ +\ +"Then you have been idle," said the padrone, frowning.\ +\ +"No, signore," said the boy, trembling. "I have played, but they did not\ +give me much money."\ +\ +"It is not his fault," said Phil, coming boldly to the defense of his\ +friend.\ +\ +"Attend to your own affairs, little scrape-grace," said the padrone,\ +roughly. "He might have got as much as you."\ +\ +"No, padrone; I was lucky. A kind lady gave me fifty cents."\ +\ +"That is not my affair. I don't care where you get the money. But if you\ +don't bring home all I expect, you shall feel the stick."\ +\ +These last words were addressed to Giacomo, who understood their import\ +only too well. In the miserable lodging where he herded with thirty or\ +forty others scarcely a night passed without the brutal punishment of\ +one or more unfortunate boys, who had been unsuccessful in bringing home\ +enough to satisfy the rapacity of the padrone. But of this an account\ +will hereafter be given.\ +\ +"Now, go to work, both of you," said the padrone, harshly.\ +\ +The two boys separated. Giacomo went uptown, while Phil kept on his way\ +toward the Astor House. The padrone made his way to the nearest liquor\ +shop, where he invested a portion of the money wrung from the hard\ +earnings of his young apprentices.\ +\ +Toward the close of the afternoon Phil found himself in front of the\ +Astor House. He had played several times, but was not fortunate in\ +finding liberal auditors. He had secured but ten cents during this time,\ +and it seemed doubtful whether he would reach the sum he wanted. He\ +crossed over to the City Hall Park, and, feeling tired, sat down on one\ +of the benches. Two bootblacks were already seated upon it.\ +\ +"Play us a tune, Johnny," said one.\ +\ +"Will you give me pennies?" asked Phil doubtfully, for he did not care,\ +with such a severe taskmaster, to work for nothing.\ +\ +"Yes, we'll give you pennies."\ +\ +Upon this, Phil struck up a tune.\ +\ +"Where's your monkey?" asked one of the boys.\ +\ +"I have no monkey."\ +\ +"If you want a monkey, here's one for you," said Tim Rafferty, putting\ +his hand on his companion's shoulder.\ +\ +"He's too big," said Phil, laughing.\ +\ +"Hould yer gab, Tim Rafferty," said the other. "It's you that'll make a\ +better monkey nor I. Say, Johnny, do you pay your monkeys well?"\ +\ +"Give me my pennies," said Phil, with an eye to business.\ +\ +"Play another tune, then."\ +\ +Phil obeyed directions. When he had finished, a contribution was taken\ +up, but it only amounted to seven cents. However, considering the\ +character of the audience, this was as much as could be expected.\ +\ +"How much have you made to-day, Johnny?" asked Tim.\ +\ +"A dollar," said Phil.\ +\ +"A dollar! That's more nor I have made. I tell you what, boys, I think\ +I'll buy a fiddle myself. I'll make more money that way than blackin'\ +boots."\ +\ +"A great fiddler you'd make, Tim Rafferty."\ +\ +"Can't I play, then? Lend me your fiddle, Johnny, till I try it a\ +little."\ +\ +Phil shook his head.\ +\ +"Give it to me now; I won't be hurtin' it."\ +\ +"You'll break it."\ +\ +"Then I'll pay for it."\ +\ +"It isn't mine."\ +\ +"Whose is it, then?"\ +\ +"The padrone's."\ +\ +"And who's the padrone?"\ +\ +"The man I live with. If the fiddle is broken, he will beat me."\ +\ +"Then he's an ould haythen, and you may tell him so, with Tim Rafferty's\ +compliments. But I won't hurt it."\ +\ +Phil, however, feared to trust the violin in unskillful hands. He knew\ +the penalty if any harm befell it, and he had no mind to run the\ +risk. So he rose from the seat, and withdrew to a little distance, Tim\ +Rafferty following, for, though he cared little at first, he now felt\ +determined to try the fiddle.\ +\ +"If you don't give it to me I'll put a head on you," he said.\ +\ +"You shall not have it," said Phil, firmly, for he, too, could be\ +determined.\ +\ +"The little chap's showing fight," said Tim's companion. "Look out, Tim;\ +he'll mash you."\ +\ +"I can fight him wid one hand," said Tim.\ +\ +He advanced upon our young hero, who, being much smaller, would probably\ +have been compelled to yield to superior force but for an interference\ +entirely unexpected by Tim.\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER IV\ +\ +AN INVITATION TO SUPPER\ +\ +Tim had raised his fist to strike the young fiddler, when he was\ +suddenly pushed aside with considerable force, and came near measuring\ +his length on the ground.\ +\ +"Who did that?" he cried, angrily, recovering his equilibrium.\ +\ +"I did it," said a calm voice.\ +\ +Tim recognized in the speaker Paul Hoffman, whom some of my readers will\ +remember as "Paul the Peddler." Paul was proprietor of a necktie stand\ +below the Astor House, and was just returning home to supper.\ +\ +He was a brave and manly boy, and his sympathies were always in favor of\ +the oppressed. He had met Phil before, and talked with him, and seeing\ +him in danger came to his assistance.\ +\ +"What made you push me?" demanded Tim, fiercely.\ +\ +"What were you going to do to him?" rejoined Paul, indicating the\ +Italian boy.\ +\ +"I was only goin' to borrer his fiddle."\ +\ +"He would have broken it," said Phil.\ +\ +"You don't know how to play," said Paul. "You would have broken his\ +fiddle, and then he would be beaten."\ +\ +"I would pay for it if I did," said Tim.\ +\ +"You say so, but you wouldn't. Even if you did, it would take time, and\ +the boy would have suffered."\ +\ +"What business is that of yours?" demanded Tim, angrily.\ +\ +"It is always my business when I see a big boy teasing a little one."\ +\ +"You'll get hurt some day," said Tim, suddenly.\ +\ +"Not by you," returned Paul, not particularly alarmed.\ +\ +Tim would have gladly have punished Paul on the spot for his\ +interference, but he did not consider it prudent to provoke hostilities.\ +Paul was as tall as himself, and considerably stronger. He therefore\ +wisely confined himself to threatening words.\ +\ +"Come along with me, Phil," said Paul, kindly, to the little fiddler.\ +\ +"Thank you for saving me," said Phil, gratefully. "The padrone would\ +beat me if the fiddle was broke."\ +\ +"Never mind about thanks, Phil. Tim is a bully with small boys, but he\ +is a coward among large ones. Have you had any supper?"\ +\ +"No," said Phil.\ +\ +"Won't you come home and take supper with me?"\ +\ +Phil hesitated.\ +\ +"You are kind," he said, "but I fear the padrone."\ +\ +"What will he do to you?"\ +\ +"He will beat me if I don't bring home enough money."\ +\ +"How much more must you get?"\ +\ +"Sixty cents."\ +\ +"You can play better after a good supper. Come along; I won't keep you\ +long."\ +\ +Phil made no more objection. He was a healthy boy, and his wanderings\ +had given him a good appetite. So he thanked Paul, and walked along by\ +his side. One object Paul had in inviting him was, the fear that Tim\ +Rafferty might take advantage of his absence to renew his assault upon\ +Phil, and with better success than before.\ +\ +"How old are you, Phil?" he asked.\ +\ +"Twelve years."\ +\ +"And who taught you to play?"\ +\ +"No one. I heard the other boys play, and so I learned."\ +\ +"Do you like it?"\ +\ +"Sometimes; but I get tired of it."\ +\ +"I don't wonder. I should think playing day after day might tire you.\ +What are you going to do when you become a man?"\ +\ +Phil shrugged his shoulders.\ +\ +"I don't know," he said. "I think I'll go back to Italy."\ +\ +"Have you any relations there?"\ +\ +"I have a mother and two sisters."\ +\ +"And a father?"\ +\ +"Yes, a father."\ +\ +"Why did they let you come away?"\ +\ +"The padrone gave my father money."\ +\ +"Don't you hear anything from home?"\ +\ +"No, signore."\ +\ +"I am not a signore," said Paul, smiling. "You may call me Paul. Is that\ +an Italian name?"\ +\ +"Me call it Paolo."\ +\ +"That sounds queer to me. What's James in Italian?"\ +\ +"Giacomo."\ +\ +"Then I have a little brother Giacomo."\ +\ +"How old is he?"\ +\ +"Eight years old."\ +\ +"My sister Bettina is eight years. I wish I could see her."\ +\ +"You will see her again some day, Phil. You will get rich in America,\ +and go back to sunny Italy."\ +\ +"The padrone takes all my money."\ +\ +"You'll get away from the old rascal some day. Keep up good courage,\ +Phil, and all will come right. But here we are. Follow me upstairs, and\ +I will introduce you to my mother and Giacomo," said Paul, laughing at\ +the Italian name he had given his little brother.\ +\ +Mrs. Hoffman and Jimmy looked with some surprise at the little fiddler\ +as he entered with Paul.\ +\ +"Mother," said Paul, "this is one of my friends, whom I have invited to\ +take supper with us."\ +\ +"He is welcome," said Mrs. Hoffman, kindly. "Have you ever spoken to us\ +of him?"\ +\ +"I am not sure. His name is Phil--Phil the fiddler, we call him."\ +\ +"Filippo," said the young musician.\ +\ +"We will call you Phil; it is easier to speak," said Paul. "This is my\ +little brother Jimmy. He is a great artist."\ +\ +"Now you are laughing at me, Paul," said the little boy.\ +\ +"Well, he is going to be a great artist some day, if he isn't one yet.\ +Do you think, Jimmy, you could draw Phil, here, with his fiddle?"\ +\ +"I think I could," said the little boy, slowly, looking carefully at\ +their young guest; "but it would take some time."\ +\ +"Perhaps Phil will come some day, and give you a sitting."\ +\ +"Will you come?" asked Jimmy.\ +\ +"I will come some day."\ +\ +Meanwhile Mrs. Hoffman was preparing supper. Since Paul had become\ +proprietor of the necktie stand, as described in the last volume, they\ +were able to live with less regard to economy than before. So, when the\ +table was spread, it presented quite a tempting appearance. Beefsteak,\ +rolls, fried potatoes, coffee, and preserves graced the board.\ +\ +"Supper is ready, Paul," said his mother, when all was finished.\ +\ +"Here, Phil, you may sit here at my right hand," said Paul. "I will put\ +your violin where it will not be injured."\ +\ +Phil sat down as directed, not without feeling a little awkward, yet\ +with a sense of anticipated pleasure. Accustomed to bread and cheese\ +alone, the modest repast before him seemed like a royal feast. The meat\ +especially attracted him, for he had not tasted any for months, indeed\ +seldom in his life, for in Italy it is seldom eaten by the class to\ +which Phil's parents belonged.\ +\ +"Let me give you some meat, Phil," said Paul. "Now, shall we drink the\ +health of the padrone in coffee?"\ +\ +"I will not drink his health," said Phil. "He is a bad man."\ +\ +"Who is the padrone?" asked Jimmy, curiously.\ +\ +"He is my master. He sends me out to play for money."\ +\ +"And must you give all the money you make to him?"\ +\ +"Yes; if I do not bring much money, he will beat me."\ +\ +"Then he must be a bad man. Why do you live with him?"\ +\ +"He bought me from my father."\ +\ +"He bought you?" repeated Jimmy, puzzled.\ +\ +"He hires him for so much money," explained Paul.\ +\ +"But why did your father let you go with a bad man?" asked Jimmy.\ +\ +"He wanted the money," said Phil. "He cared more for money than for me."\ +\ +What wonder that the boys sold into such cruel slavery should be\ +estranged from the fathers who for a few paltry ducats sell the liberty\ +and happiness of their children. Even where the contract is for a\ +limited terms of years, the boys in five cases out of ten are not\ +returned at the appointed time. A part, unable to bear the hardships and\ +privations of the life upon which they enter, are swept off by death,\ +while of those that survive, a part are weaned from their homes, or are\ +not permitted to go back.\ +\ +"You must not ask too many questions, Jimmy." said Mrs. Hoffman, fearing\ +that he might awaken sad thoughts in the little musician.\ +\ +She was glad to see that Phil ate with a good appetite. In truth he\ +relished the supper, which was the best he remembered to have tasted for\ +many a long day.\ +\ +"Is Italy like America?" asked Jimmy, whose curiosity was excited to\ +learn something of Phil's birthplace.\ +\ +"It is much nicer," said Phil, with a natural love of country. "There\ +are olive trees and orange trees, and grapes--very many."\ +\ +"Are there really orange trees? Have you seen them grow?"\ +\ +"I have picked them from the trees many times."\ +\ +"I should like that, but I don't care for olives."\ +\ +"They are good, too."\ +\ +"I should like the grapes."\ +\ +"There are other things in Italy which you would like better, Jimmy,"\ +said Paul.\ +\ +"What do you mean, Paul?"\ +\ +"The galleries of fine paintings."\ +\ +"Yes, I should like to see them. Have you seen them?"\ +\ +Phil shook his head. The picture galleries are in the cities, and not in\ +the country district where he was born.\ +\ +"Sometime, when I am rich, we will all go to Italy, Jimmy; then, if Phil\ +is at home, we will go and see him."\ +\ +"I should like that, Paul."\ +\ +Though Jimmy was not yet eight years old, he had already exhibited\ +a remarkable taste for drawing, and without having received any\ +instruction, could copy any ordinary picture with great exactness. It\ +was the little boy's ambition to become an artist, and in this ambition\ +he was encouraged by Paul, who intended, as soon as he could afford it,\ +to engage an instructor for Jimmy.\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER V\ +\ +ON THE FERRY BOAT\ +\ +When supper was over, Phil bethought himself that his day's work was not\ +yet over. He had still a considerable sum to obtain before he dared go\ +home, if such a name can be given to the miserable tenement in Crosby\ +Street where he herded with his companions. But before going he wished\ +to show his gratitude to Paul for his protection and the supper which he\ +had so much and so unexpectedly enjoyed.\ +\ +"Shall I play for you?" he asked, taking his violin from the top of the\ +bureau, where Paul had placed it.\ +\ +"Will you?" asked Jimmy, his eyes lighting up with pleasure.\ +\ +"We should be very glad to hear you," said Mrs. Hoffman.\ +\ +Phil played his best, for he felt that he was playing for friends. After\ +a short prelude, he struck into an Italian song. Though the words were\ +unintelligible, the little party enjoyed the song.\ +\ +"Bravo, Phil!" said Paul. "You sing almost as well as I do."\ +\ +Jimmy laughed.\ +\ +"You sing about as well as you draw," said the little boy.\ +\ +"There you go again with your envy and jealousy," said Paul, in an\ +injured tone. "Others appreciate me better."\ +\ +"Sing something, and we will judge of your merits," said his mother.\ +\ +"Not now," said Paul, shaking his head. "My feelings are too deeply\ +injured. But if he has time, Phil will favor us with another song."\ +\ +So the little fiddler once more touched the strings of his violin, and\ +sang the hymn of Garibaldi.\ +\ +"He has a beautiful voice," said Mrs. Hoffman to Paul.\ +\ +"Yes, Phil sings much better than most of his class. Shall I bring him\ +up here again?"\ +\ +"Any time, Paul. We shall always be glad to see him."\ +\ +Here Phil took his cap and prepared to depart.\ +\ +"Good-by," he said in English. "I thank you all for your kindness."\ +\ +"Will you come again?" said Mrs. Hoffman. "We shall be glad to have\ +you."\ +\ +"Do come," pleaded Jimmy, who had taken a fancy to the dark-eyed Italian\ +boy, whose brilliant brown complexion contrasted strongly with his own\ +pale face and blue eyes.\ +\ +These words gave Phil a strange pleasure. Since his arrival in America\ +he had become accustomed to harsh words and blows; but words of kindness\ +were strangers to his ears. For an hour he forgot the street and his\ +uninviting home, and felt himself surrounded by a true home atmosphere.\ +He almost fancied himself in his Calabrian home, with his mother and\ +sisters about him--in his home as it was before cupidity entered his\ +father's heart and impelled him to sell his own flesh and blood into\ +slavery in a foreign land. Phil could not analyze his own emotions,\ +but these were the feelings which rose in his heart, and filed it with\ +transient sadness.\ +\ +"I thank you much," he said. "I will come again some day."\ +\ +"Come soon, Phil," said Paul. "You know where my necktie stand is. Come\ +there any afternoon between four and five, and I will take you home to\ +supper. Do you know the way out, or shall I go with you?"\ +\ +"I know the way," said Phil.\ +\ +He went downstairs and once more found himself on the sidewalk. It was\ +but six o'clock, and five or six hours were still before him before he\ +could feel at liberty to go home. Should he return too early, he would\ +be punished for losing the possible gains of the hour he had lost, even\ +if the sum he brought home were otherwise satisfactory. So, whatever may\ +be his fatigue, or however inclement the weather, the poor Italian boy\ +is compelled to stay out till near midnight, before he is permitted to\ +return to the hard pallet on which only he can sleep off his fatigues.\ +\ +Again in the street, Phil felt that he must make up for lost time. Now\ +six o'clock is not a very favorable time for street music; citizens who\ +do business downtown have mostly gone home to dinner. Those who have\ +not started are in haste, and little disposed to heed the appeal of\ +the young minstrel. Later the saloons will be well frequented, and not\ +seldom the young fiddlers may pick up a few, sometimes a considerable\ +number of pennies, by playing at the doors of these places, or within,\ +if they should be invited to enter; but at six there is not much to be\ +done.\ +\ +After a little reflection, Phil determined to go down to Fulton Ferry\ +and got on board the Brooklyn steamboat. He might get a chance to play\ +to the passengers, and some, no doubt, would give him something. At any\ +rate, the investment would be small, since for one fare, or two cents,\ +he might ride back and forward several times, as long as he did not step\ +off the boat. He, therefore, directed his steps toward the ferry, and\ +arrived just in time to go on board the boat.\ +\ +The boat was very full. So large a number of the people in Brooklyn are\ +drawn to New York by business and pleasure, that the boats, particularly\ +in the morning from seven to nine, and in the afternoon, from five to\ +seven, go loaded down with foot passengers and carriages.\ +\ +Phil entered the ladies' cabin. Though ostensibly confined to ladies'\ +use, it was largely occupied also by gentlemen who did not enjoy the\ +smoke which usually affects disagreeably the atmosphere of the cabin\ +appropriated to their own sex. Our young musician knew that to children\ +the hearts and purses of ladies are more likely to open than those of\ +gentlemen, and this guided him.\ +\ +Entering, he found every seat taken. He waited till the boat had\ +started, and then, taking his position in the center of the rear\ +cabin, he began to play and sing, fixing at once the attention of the\ +passengers upon himself.\ +\ +"That boy's a nuisance; he ought not to be allowed to play on the boat,"\ +muttered an old gentleman, looking up from the columns of the Evening\ +Post.\ +\ +"Now, papa," said a young lady at his side, "why need you object to the\ +poor boy? I am sure he sings very nicely. I like to hear him."\ +\ +"I don't."\ +\ +"You know, papa, you have no taste for music. Why, you went to sleep at\ +the opera the other evening."\ +\ +"I tried to," said her father, in whom musical taste had a very limited\ +development. "It was all nonsense to me."\ +\ +"He is singing the Hymn of Garibaldi. What a sweet voice he has! Such a\ +handsome little fellow, too!"\ +\ +"He has a dirty face, and his clothes are quite ragged."\ +\ +"But he has beautiful eyes; see how brilliant they are. No wonder he is\ +dirty and ragged; it isn't his fault, poor boy. I have no doubt he has a\ +miserable home. I'm going to give him something."\ +\ +"Just as you like, Florence; as I am not a romantic young damsel, I\ +shall not follow your example."'\ +\ +By this time the song was finished, and Phil, taking off his cap, went\ +the rounds. None of the contributions were larger than five cents,\ +until he came to the young lady of whom we have spoken above. She drew\ +a twenty-five-cent piece from her portemonnaie, and put it into Phil's\ +hand, with a gracious smile, which pleased the young fiddler as much as\ +the gift, welcome though that undoubtedly was.\ +\ +"Thank you, lady," he said.\ +\ +"You sing very nicely," she replied.\ +\ +Phil smiled, and dirty though his face was, the smile lighted it up with\ +rare beauty.\ +\ +"Do you often come on these boats?" asked the young lady.\ +\ +"Sometimes, but they do not always let me play," said Phil.\ +\ +"I hope I shall hear you again. You have a good voice."\ +\ +"Thank you, signorina."\ +\ +"You can speak English. I tried to speak with one of you the other day,\ +but he could only speak Italian."\ +\ +"I know a few words, signorina."\ +\ +"I hope I shall see you again," and the young lady, prompted by a\ +natural impulse of kindness, held out her hand to the little musician.\ +He took it respectfully, and bending over, touched it with his lips.\ +\ +The young lady, to whom this was quite unexpected, smiled and blushed,\ +by no means offended, but she glanced round her to see whether it was\ +observed by others.\ +\ +"Upon my word, Florence," said her father, as Phil moved away, "you have\ +got up quite a scene with this little ragged musician. I am rather\ +glad he is not ten or twelve years older, or there might be a romantic\ +elopement."\ +\ +"Now, papa, you are too bad," said Florence. "Just because I choose to\ +be kind to a poor, neglected child, you fancy all sorts of improbable\ +things."\ +\ +"I don't know where you get all your foolish romance from--not from me,\ +I am sure."\ +\ +"I should think not," said Florence, laughing merrily. "Your worst enemy\ +won't charge you with being romantic, papa."\ +\ +"I hope not," said her father, shrugging his shoulders. "But the boat\ +has touched the pier. Shall we go on shore, or have you any further\ +business with your young Italian friend?"\ +\ +"Not to-day, papa."\ +\ +The passengers vacated the boat, and were replaced by a smaller number,\ +on their way from Brooklyn to New York.\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER VI\ +\ +THE BARROOM\ +\ +Phil did not leave the boat. He lingered in the cabin until the\ +passengers were seated, and after the boat was again under way began to\ +play. This time, however, he was not as fortunate as before. While in\ +the midst of a tune one of the men employed on the boat entered the\ +cabin. At times he would not have interfered with him, but he happened\ +to be in ill humor, and this proved unfortunate for Phil.\ +\ +"Stop your noise, boy," he said.\ +\ +Phil looked up.\ +\ +"May I not play?"\ +\ +"No; nobody wants to hear you."\ +\ +The young fiddler did not dare to disobey. He saw that for the present\ +his gains were at an end. However, he had enough to satisfy the rapacity\ +of the padrone, and could afford to stop. He took a seat, and waited\ +quietly till the boat landed. One of the lady passengers, as she passed\ +him on her way out of the cabin, placed ten cents in his hand. This\ +led him to count up his gains. He found they amounted to precisely two\ +dollars and fifty cents.\ +\ +"I need not play any more," he thought. "I shall not be beaten\ +to-night."\ +\ +He found his seat so comfortable, especially after wandering about the\ +streets all day, that he remained on the boat for two more trips. Then,\ +taking his violin under his arm, he went out on the pier.\ +\ +It was half-past seven o'clock. He would like to have gone to his\ +lodging, but knew that it would not be permitted. In this respect the\ +Italian fiddler is not as well off as those who ply other street trades.\ +Newsboys and bootblacks are their own masters, and, whether their\ +earnings are little or great, reap the benefit of them themselves. They\ +can stop work at six if they like, or earlier; but the little Italian\ +musician must remain in the street till near midnight, and then, after\ +a long and fatiguing day, he is liable to be beaten and sent to bed\ +without his supper, unless he brings home a satisfactory sum of money.\ +\ +Phil walked about here and there in the lower part of the city. As he\ +was passing a barroom he was called in by the barkeeper.\ +\ +"Give us a tune, boy," he said.\ +\ +It was a low barroom, frequented by sailors and a rough set of customers\ +of similar character. The red face of the barkeeper showed that he drank\ +very liberally, and the atmosphere was filled with the fumes of bad\ +cigars and bad liquor. The men were ready for a good time, as they\ +called it, and it was at the suggestion of one of them that Phil had\ +been invited in.\ +\ +"Play a tune on your fiddle, you little ragamuffin," said one.\ +\ +Phil cared little how he was addressed. He was at the service of the\ +public, and what he chiefly cared for was that he be paid for his\ +services.\ +\ +"What shall I play?" he asked.\ +\ +"Anything," hiccoughed one. "It's all the same to me. I don't know one\ +tune from another."\ +\ +The young fiddler played one of the popular airs of the day. He did not\ +undertake to sing, for the atmosphere was so bad that he could hardly\ +avoid coughing. He was anxious to get out into the street, but he did\ +not wish to refuse playing. When he had finished his tune, one of\ +those present, a sailor, cried, "That's good. Step up, boys, and have a\ +drink."\ +\ +The invitation was readily accepted by all except Phil. Noticing that\ +the boy kept his place, the sailor said, "Step up, boy, and wet your\ +whistle."\ +\ +Phil liked the weak wines of his native land, but he did not care for\ +the poisonous decoctions of be found in such places.\ +\ +"I am not thirsty," he said.\ +\ +"Yes, you are; here, give this boy a glass of brandy."\ +\ +"I do not want it," said Phil.\ +\ +"You won't drink with us," exclaimed the sailor, who had then enough to\ +be quarrelsome. "Then I'll make you;" and he brought down his fist so\ +heavily upon the counter as to make the glasses rattle. "Then I'll make\ +you. Here, give me a glass, and I'll pour it down his throat."\ +\ +The fiddler was frightened at his vehemence, and darted to the door. But\ +the sailor was too quick for him. Overtaking Phil, he dragged him\ +back with a rough grasp, and held out his hand for the glass. But an\ +unexpected friend now turned up.\ +\ +"Oh, let the boy go, Jack," said a fellow sailor. "If he don't want to\ +drink, don't force him."\ +\ +But his persecutor was made ugly by his potations, and swore that Phil\ +should drink before he left the barroom.\ +\ +"That he shall not," said his new friend.\ +\ +"Who is to prevent it?" demanded Jack, fiercely.\ +\ +"I will."\ +\ +"Then I'll pour a glass down your throat, too," returned Jack,\ +menacingly.\ +\ +"No need of that. I am ready enough to drink. But the boy shan't drink,\ +if he don't want to."\ +\ +"He shall!" retorted the first sailor, with an oath.\ +\ +Still holding Phil by the shoulder with one hand, with the other he took\ +a glass which had just been filled with brandy; he was about to pour it\ +down his throat, when the glass was suddenly dashed from his hand and\ +broke upon the floor.\ +\ +With a fresh oath Jack released his hold on Phil, and, maddened with\ +rage, threw himself upon the other. Instantly there was a general melee.\ +Phil did not wait to see the result. He ran to the door, and, emerging\ +into the street, ran away till he had placed a considerable distance\ +between himself and the disorderly and drunken party in the barroom. The\ +fight there continued until the police, attracted by the noise, forced\ +an entrance and carried away the whole party to the station-house, where\ +they had a chance to sleep off their potations.\ +\ +Freed from immediate danger, the young fiddler kept on his way. He had\ +witnessed such scenes before, as he had often been into barrooms to\ +play in the evening. He had not been paid for his trouble, but he cared\ +little for that, as the money would have done him no good. He would only\ +have been compelled to pass it over to the padrone. These boys, even\ +at a tender age, are necessarily made familiar with the darker side of\ +metropolitan life. Vice and crime are displayed before their young eyes,\ +and if they do not themselves become vicious, it is not for the want of\ +knowledge and example.\ +\ +It would be tedious to follow Phil in his wanderings. We have already\ +had a glimpse of the manner in which the days passed with him; only\ +it is to be said that this was a favorable specimen. He had been more\ +fortunate in collecting money than usual. Besides, he had had a better\ +dinner than usual, thanks to the apple, and a supper such as he had not\ +tasted for months.\ +\ +About ten o'clock, as he was walking on the Bowery, he met Giacomo, his\ +companion of the morning.\ +\ +The little boy was dragging one foot after the other wearily. There was\ +a sad look on his young face, for he had not been successful, and he\ +knew too well how he would be received by the padrone. Yet his face\ +lighted up as he saw Phil. Often before Phil had encouraged him when he\ +was despondent. He looked upon our young hero as his only friend; for\ +there was no other of the boys who seemed to care for him or able to\ +help him.\ +\ +"Is it you, Filippo?" he said.\ +\ +"Yes, Giacomo. What luck have you had?"\ +\ +"Not much. I have only a little more than a dollar. I am so tired; but I\ +don't dare go back. The padrone will beat me."\ +\ +An idea came to Phil. He did not know how much money he had; but he was\ +sure it must be considerably more than two dollars, Why should he not\ +give some to his friend to make up his deficiencies, and so perhaps save\ +him from punishment?\ +\ +"I have had better luck," he said. "I have almost three dollars."\ +\ +"You are always luckier than I, Filippo."\ +\ +"I am stronger, Giacomo. It does not tire me so much to walk about."\ +\ +"You can sing, too. I cannot sing very much, and I do not get so much\ +money."\ +\ +"Tell me just how much money you have, Giacomo."\ +\ +"I have a dollar and thirty cents," said Giacomo, after counting the\ +contents of his pockets.\ +\ +Meanwhile Phil had been doing the same thing. The result of his count\ +was that he found he had two dollars and eighty cents.\ +\ +"Listen, Giacomo," he said. "I will give you enough to make two\ +dollars."\ +\ +"But then you will be beaten."\ +\ +"No; I shall have two dollars and five cents left. Then neither of us\ +will get beaten."\ +\ +"How kind you are, Filippo!"\ +\ +"Oh, it is nothing. Besides, I do not want to carry too much, or the\ +padrone will expect me to bring as much every day, and that I cannot do.\ +So it will be better for us both."\ +\ +The transfer was quickly made, and the two boys kept together until they\ +heard the clock strike eleven. It was now so late that they determined\ +to return to their miserable lodging, for both were tired and longed for\ +sleep.\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER VII\ +\ +THE HOME OF THE BOYS\ +\ +It was a quarter-past eleven when Phil and Giacomo entered the shabby\ +brick house which they called home, for want of a better. From fifteen\ +to twenty of their companions had already arrived, and the padrone was\ +occupied in receiving their several contributions. The apartment was\ +a mean one, miserably furnished, but seemed befitting the principal\ +occupant, whose dark face was marked by an expression of greed, and\ +alternately showed satisfaction or disappointment as the contents of the\ +boys' pockets were satisfactory or otherwise. Those who had done badly\ +were set apart for punishment.\ +\ +He looked up as the two boys entered.\ +\ +"Well, Filippo," he said, harshly, "how much have you got?"\ +\ +Phil handed over his earnings. They were up to the required limit, but\ +the padrone looked only half satisfied.\ +\ +"Is that all you have?" he asked, suspiciously.\ +\ +"It is all, signore."\ +\ +"You have not done well this afternoon, then. When I met you at twelve\ +o'clock you had more than a dollar."\ +\ +"It was because a good signora gave me fifty cents."\ +\ +The padrone, still suspicious, plunging his hands into Phil's pockets,\ +but in vain. He could not find another penny.\ +\ +"Take off your shoes and stockings," he said, still unsatisfied.\ +\ +Phil obediently removed his shoes and stockings, but no money was found\ +concealed, as the padrone half suspected. Sometimes these poor boys,\ +beset by a natural temptation, secrete a portion of their daily\ +earnings. Whenever they are detected, woe betide them. The padrone makes\ +an example of them, inflicting a cruel punishment, in order to deter\ +other boys from imitating them.\ +\ +Having discovered nothing, he took Phil's violin, and proceeded to\ +Giacomo.\ +\ +"Now for you," he said.\ +\ +Giacomo handed over his money. The padrone was surprised in turn, but\ +his surprise was of a different nature. He had expected to find him\ +deficient, knowing that he was less enterprising than Phil. He was glad\ +to get more money than he expected, but a little disappointed that he\ +had no good excuse for beating him; for he had one of those hard, cruel\ +natures that delight in inflicting pain and anguish upon others.\ +\ +"Take care that you do as well to-morrow," he said. "Go and get your\ +supper."\ +\ +One of the larger boys was distributing bread and cheese to the hungry\ +boys. Nearly all ate as if famished, plain and uninviting as was the\ +supper, for they had been many hours without food. But Phil, who, as\ +we know, had eaten a good supper at Mrs. Hoffman's, felt very little\ +appetite. He slyly gave his bread to one of the boys, who, on account of\ +the small sum he brought home, had been sentenced to go without. But the\ +sharp eyes of the padrone, which, despite his occupation, managed to see\ +all that was going on, detected this action, and he became suspicious\ +that Phil had bought supper out of his earnings.\ +\ +"Why did you give your bread to Giuseppe?" he demanded.\ +\ +"Because I was not hungry," answered Phil.\ +\ +"Why were you not hungry? Did you buy some supper?"\ +\ +"No, signore."\ +\ +"Then you should be hungry."\ +\ +"A kind lady gave me some supper."\ +\ +"How did it happen?"\ +\ +"I knew her son. His name is Paolo. He asked me to go home with him.\ +Then he gave me a good supper."\ +\ +"How long were you there? You might have been playing and brought me\ +some more money," said the padrone, who, with characteristic meanness,\ +grudged the young fiddler time to eat the meal that cost him nothing.\ +\ +"It was not long, signore."\ +\ +"You can eat what is given you, but you must not waste too much time."\ +\ +A boy entered next, who showed by his hesitating manner that he did\ +not anticipate a good reception. The padrone, accustomed to judge by\ +appearances, instantly divined this.\ +\ +"Well, Ludovico," he said, sharply, "what do you bring me?"\ +\ +"Pardon, padrone," said Ludovico, producing a small sum of money.\ +\ +"I could not help it."\ +\ +"Seventy-five cents," repeated the padrone, indignantly. "You have been\ +idle, you little wretch!"\ +\ +"No, padrone. Indeed, I did my best. The people would not give me\ +money."\ +\ +"Where did you go?"\ +\ +"I was in Brooklyn."\ +\ +"You have spent some of the money."\ +\ +"No, padrone."\ +\ +"You have been idle, then. No supper to-night. Pietro, my stick!"\ +\ +Pietro was one of the older boys. He was ugly physically, and his\ +disposition corresponded with his appearance. He could have few good\ +traits, or he would not have possessed the confidence of the padrone.\ +He was an efficient assistant of the latter, and co-operated with him in\ +oppressing the other boys. Indeed, he was a nephew of the padrone's,\ +and for this reason, as well as his similarity of disposition, he was\ +treated with unusual indulgence. Whenever the padrone felt suspicious\ +of any of the boys, he usually sent them out in company with Pietro, who\ +acted as a spy, faithfully reporting all that happened to his principal.\ +\ +Pietro responded with alacrity to the command of the padrone, and\ +produced a stout stick, which he handed to his uncle.\ +\ +"Now strip off your jacket," said the padrone, harshly.\ +\ +"Spare me, padrone! Do not beat me! It was not my fault," said the\ +unhappy Ludovico, imploringly.\ +\ +"Take off your jacket!" repeated the padrone, pitilessly.\ +\ +One look of that hard face might have taught Ludovico, even if he had\ +not witnessed the punishment so often inflicted on other boys, that\ +there was no hope for him.\ +\ +"Help him, Pietro," said the padrone.\ +\ +Pietro seized Ludovico's jacket, and pulled it off roughly. Then he drew\ +off the ragged shirt which the boy wore underneath, and his bare back\ +was exposed to view.\ +\ +"Hold him, Pietro!"\ +\ +In Pietro's firm grasp, the boy was unable to stir. The padrone whirled\ +the stick aloft, and brought it down upon the naked flesh, leaving\ +behind a fearful wheal.\ +\ +Ludovico shrieked aloud, and again implored mercy, but in vain, for the\ +stick descended again and again.\ +\ +Meanwhile the other boys looked on, helpless to interfere. The more\ +selfish were glad that they had escaped, though not at all sure but it\ +would be their turn next evening. There were others who felt a passive\ +sympathy for their unlucky comrade. Others were filled with indignation\ +at the padrone, knowing how cruel and unjust were his exactions. Among\ +these was Phil. Possessed of a warm and sympathetic heart, he never\ +witnessed these cruel punishments without feeling that he would like to\ +see the padrone suffering such pain as he inflicted upon others.\ +\ +"If I were only a man," he often thought, "I would wrench the stick from\ +his hand, and give him a chance to feel it."\ +\ +But he knew too well the danger of permitting his real sentiments to be\ +reflected in his face. It would only bring upon him a share of the same\ +punishment, without benefiting those who were unfortunate enough to\ +receive it.\ +\ +When Ludovico's punishment was ended, he was permitted to go to bed,\ +but without his supper. Nor was his the only case. Five other boys were\ +subjected to the same punishment. The stick had no want of exercise\ +on that evening. Here were nearly forty boys, subjected to excessive\ +fatigue, privation, and brutal treatment daily, on account of the greed\ +of one man. The hours that should been given in part to instruction, and\ +partly to such recreation as the youthful heart craves, were devoted to\ +a pursuit that did nothing to prepare them for the duties of life. And\ +this white slavery--for it merits no better name--is permitted by the\ +law of two great nations. Italy is in fault in suffering this traffic\ +in her children of tender years, and America is guilty as well in not\ +interfering, as she might, at all events, to abridge the long hours of\ +labor required of these boys, and forcing their cruel guardians to give\ +them some instruction.\ +\ +One by one the boys straggled in. By midnight all had returned, and the\ +boys were permitted to retire to their beds, which were poor enough.\ +This, however, was the least of their troubles. Sound are the slumbers\ +of young however hard the couch on which it rests, especially when, as\ +with all the young Italian boys, the day has been one of fatigue.\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER VIII\ +\ +A COLD DAY\ +\ +The events thus far recorded in the life of our young hero took place\ +on a day toward the middle of October, when the temperature was\ +sufficiently mild to produce no particular discomfort in those exposed\ +to it. We advance our story two months, and behold Phil setting out for\ +his day's wandering on a morning in December, when the keen blasts swept\ +through the streets, sending a shiver through the frames even of those\ +who were well protected. How much more, then, must it be felt by the\ +young street musician, who, with the exception of a woolen tippet, wore\ +nothing more or warmer than in the warmer months! Yet, Phil, with his\ +natural vigorous frame, was better able to bear the rigor of the winter\ +weather than some of his comrades, as Giacomo, to whom the long hours\ +spent in the streets were laden with suffering and misery.\ +\ +The two boys went about together when they dared to do so, though the\ +padrone objected, but for what reason it did not seem manifest, unless\ +because he suspected that two would plan something prejudicial to his\ +interests. Phil, who was generally more successful than Giacomo, often\ +made up his smaller comrade's deficiencies by giving him a portion of\ +his own gains.\ +\ +It was a raw day. Only those who felt absolutely obliged to be out were\ +to be seen in the streets; but among these were our two little fiddlers.\ +Whatever might be the weather, they were compelled to expose themselves\ +to its severity. However the boys might suffer, they must bring home\ +the usual amount. But at eleven o'clock the prospects seemed rather\ +discouraging. They had but twenty-five cents between them, nor would\ +anyone stop to listen to their playing.\ +\ +"I wish it were night, Filippo," said Giacomo, shivering with cold.\ +\ +"So do I, Giacomo. Are you very cold?"\ +\ +"Yes," said the little boy, his teeth chattering. "I wish I were back in\ +Italy. It is never so cold there."\ +\ +"No, Giacomo; you are right. But I would not mind the cold so much, if\ +I had a warm overcoat like that boy," pointing out a boy clad in a thick\ +overcoat, and a fur cap drawn over his ears, while his hands were snugly\ +incased in warm gloves.\ +\ +He, too, looked at the two fiddlers, and he could not help noticing how\ +cold they looked.\ +\ +"Look here, you little chaps, are you cold? You look as if you had just\ +come from Greenland."\ +\ +"Yes," said Phil. "We are cold."\ +\ +"Your hands look red enough. Here is an old pair of gloves for one of\ +you. I wish I had another pair. They are not very thick, but they are\ +better than none."\ +\ +He drew a pair of worsted gloves from his pocket, and handed them to\ +Phil.\ +\ +"Thank you," said Phil; but having received them, he gave them to\ +Giacomo.\ +\ +"You are colder than I am, Giacomo," he said. "Take them."\ +\ +"But you are cold, too, Filippo."\ +\ +"I will put my hands in my pockets. Don't mind me."\ +\ +Of course this conversation took place in Italian; for, though Phil had\ +learned considerable English, Giacomo understood but a few words of it.\ +\ +The gloves afforded some protection, but still both boys were very cold.\ +They were in Brooklyn, having crossed the ferry in the morning. They had\ +wandered to a part not closely built up, where they were less sheltered,\ +and experienced greater discomfort.\ +\ +"Can't we go in somewhere and get warm? pleaded Giacomo.\ +\ +"Here is a grocery store. We will go in there."\ +\ +Phil opened the door and entered. The shopkeeper, a peevish-looking man,\ +with lightish hair, stood behind the counter weighing out a pound of tea\ +for a customer.\ +\ +"What do you want here, you little vagabonds?" he exclaimed, harshly, as\ +he saw the two boys enter.\ +\ +"We are cold," said Phil. "May we stand by your stove and get warm?"\ +\ +"Do you think I provide a fire for all the vagabonds in the city?" said\ +the grocer, with a brutal disregard of their evident suffering.\ +\ +Phil hesitated, not knowing whether he was ordered out or not.\ +\ +"Clear out of my store, I say!" said the grocer, harshly. "I don't want\ +you in here. Do you understand?"\ +\ +At this moment a gentleman of prepossessing appearance entered the\ +store. He heard the grocer's last words, and their inhumanity made him\ +indignant.\ +\ +"What do these boys want, Mr. Perkins?" he said.\ +\ +"They want to spend their time in my shop. I have no room for such\ +vagabonds."\ +\ +"We are cold," said Phil. "We only want to warm ourselves by the fire."\ +\ +"I don't want you here," said the grocer, irritably.\ +\ +"Mr. Perkins," said the gentleman, sharply, "have you no humanity? What\ +harm can it do you to let these poor boys get warm by your fire? It will\ +cost you nothing; it will not diminish your personal comfort; yet you\ +drive them out into the cold."\ +\ +The grocer began to perceive that he was on the wrong tack. The\ +gentleman who addressed him was a regular and profitable customer, and\ +he did not like to incur his ill will, which would entail loss.\ +\ +"They can stay, Mr. Pomeroy," he said, with an ill grace, "since you ask\ +it."\ +\ +"I do not ask it. I will not accept, as a personal favor, what you\ +should have granted from a motive of humanity, more especially as, after\ +this exhibition of your spirit, I shall not trade here any longer."\ +\ +By this time the grocer perceived that he had made a mistake.\ +\ +"I hope you will reconsider that, Mr. Pomeroy," he said, abjectly. "The\ +fact is, I had no objections to the boys warming themselves, but they\ +are mostly thieves, and I could not keep my eyes on them all the time."\ +\ +"I think you are mistaken. They don't look like thieves. Did you ever\ +have anything stolen by one of this class of boys?"\ +\ +"Not that I know of," said the grocer, hesitatingly; "but it is likely\ +they would steal if they got a chance."\ +\ +"We have no right to say that of anyone without good cause."\ +\ +"We never steal," said Phil, indignantly; for he understood what was\ +said.\ +\ +"Of course he says so," sneered the grocer. "Come and warm yourselves,\ +if you want to."\ +\ +The boys accepted this grudging invitation, and drew near the stove.\ +They spread out their hands, and returning warmth proved very grateful\ +to them.\ +\ +"Have you been out long?" asked the gentleman who had interceded in\ +their behalf, also drawing near the stove.\ +\ +"Since eight, signore."\ +\ +"Do you live in Brooklyn?"\ +\ +"No; in New York."\ +\ +"And do you go out every day?"\ +\ +"Si, signore."\ +\ +"How long since you came from Italy?"\ +\ +"A year."\ +\ +"Would you like to go back?"\ +\ +"He would," said Phil, pointing to his companion. "I would like to stay\ +here, if I had a good home."\ +\ +"What kind of a home have you? With whom do you live?"\ +\ +"With the padrone."\ +\ +"I suppose that means your guardian?"\ +\ +"Yes, sir," answered Phil.\ +\ +"Is he kind to you?"\ +\ +"He beats us if we do not bring home enough money."\ +\ +"Your lot is a hard one. What makes you stay with him? Don't the boys\ +ever run away?"\ +\ +"Sometimes."\ +\ +"What does the padrone do in that case?"\ +\ +"He tries to find them."\ +\ +"And if he does--what then?"\ +\ +"He beats them for a long time."\ +\ +"Evidently your padrone is a brute. Why don't you complain to the\ +police?"\ +\ +Phil shrugged his shoulders, and did not answer. He evidently thought\ +the suggestion an impracticable one. These boys are wont to regard the\ +padrone as above all law. His power seems to them absolute, and they\ +never dream of any interference. And, indeed, there is some reason for\ +their cherishing this opinion. However brutal his treatment, I know of\ +no case where the law has stepped in to rescue the young victim. This\ +is partly, no doubt, because the boys, few of whom can speak the\ +English language, do not know their rights, and seldom complain to\ +outsiders--never to the authorities. Probably, in some cases, the\ +treatment is less brutal than I have depicted; but from the best\ +information I can obtain from trustworthy sources, I fear that the\ +reality, if anything, exceeds the picture I have drawn.\ +\ +"I think I should enjoy giving your padrone a horsewhipping," said the\ +gentleman, impetuously. "Can such things be permitted in the nineteenth\ +century?"\ +\ +"I have no doubt the little rascals deserve all they get," said the\ +grocer, who would probably have found in the Italian padrone a congenial\ +spirit.\ +\ +Mr. Pomeroy deigned no reply to this remark.\ +\ +"Well, boys," he said, consulting his watch, "I must leave you. Here are\ +twenty-five cents for each of you. I have one piece of advice for you.\ +If your padrone beats you badly, run away from him. I would if I were in\ +your place."\ +\ +"Addio, signore," said the two boys.\ +\ +"I suppose that means 'good-by.' Well, good-by, and better luck."\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER IX\ +\ +PIETRO THE SPY\ +\ +Though from motives of policy the grocer had permitted the boys to warm\ +themselves by his fire, he felt only the more incensed against them on\ +this account, and when Mr. Pomeroy had gone determined to get rid of\ +them.\ +\ +"Haven't you got warm yet?" he asked. "I can't have you in my way all\ +day."\ +\ +"We will go," said Phil. "Come, Giacomo."\ +\ +He did not thank the grocer, knowing how grudgingly permission had been\ +given.\ +\ +So they went out again into the chill air, but they had got thoroughly\ +warmed, and were better able to bear it.\ +\ +"Where shall we go, Filippo?" asked the younger boy.\ +\ +"We will go back to New York. It is not so cold there."\ +\ +Giacomo unhesitatingly assented to whatever Phil proposed. He was not\ +self-reliant, like our hero, but always liked to have someone to lean\ +upon.\ +\ +They made their way back to Fulton Ferry in a leisurely manner, stopping\ +here and there to play; but it was a bad day for business. The cold was\ +such that no one stopped to give them anything, except that one young\ +man dropped ten cents in Phil's hand as he hurried by, on his way home.\ +\ +At length they reached the ferry. The passengers were not so many\ +in number as usual. The cabin was so warm and comfortable that they\ +remained on board for two or three trips, playing each time. In this way\ +they obtained about thirty cents more. They would have remained longer,\ +but that one of the deck hands asked, "How many times are you going\ +across for two cents?" and this made them think it prudent to go.\ +\ +When six o'clock came Giacomo asked Phil, who acted as treasurer, how\ +much money they had.\ +\ +"Two dollars," answered Phil.\ +\ +"That is only one dollar for each."\ +\ +"Yes, Giacomo."\ +\ +"Then we shall be beaten," said the little boy, with a sigh.\ +\ +"I am afraid so."\ +\ +"And get no supper."\ +\ +"Yes," said Phil; "unless," he added, "we get some supper now."\ +\ +"With this money?" asked Giacomo, startled at the boldness of the\ +suggestion.\ +\ +"Yes; we shall be beaten at any rate. It will be no worse for us if we\ +get some supper."\ +\ +"Will you buy some bread?"\ +\ +"No," said Phil, daringly. "I am going to buy some meat."\ +\ +"What will the padrone say?"\ +\ +"I shall not tell the padrone."\ +\ +"Do you think he will find out?"\ +\ +"No. Besides, we ought to have some supper after walking about all day."\ +\ +Evidently Phil had begun to think, and the essential injustice of\ +laboring without proper compensation had impressed his youthful mind.\ +Giacomo was more timid. He had not advanced as far as Phil, nor was he\ +as daring. But I have already said that he was guided in a great measure\ +by Phil, and so it proved in this case.\ +\ +Phil, having made up his mind, set about carrying his plan into\ +execution. Only a block distant was a cheap restaurant, where plates of\ +meat were supplied to a poor class of customers at ten cents per plate.\ +\ +"Let us go in here," he said.\ +\ +Giacomo followed, but not without trepidation. He knew that what they\ +were about to do would be a heinous crime in the eyes of the padrone.\ +Even Phil had never ventured upon such direct rebellion before. But Mr.\ +Pomeroy's suggestion that he should run away was beginning to bear fruit\ +in his mind. He had not come to that yet, but he might. Why should he\ +not earn money for his own benefit, as well as for the padrone? True, he\ +was bound to the latter by a legal contract entered into by his father,\ +but Phil, without knowing much about law, had an indistinct idea that\ +the contract was a one-sided one, and was wholly for the advantage of\ +the other party. The tyrant is always in danger of losing his hold upon\ +the victim when the latter begins to think.\ +\ +They entered the restaurant, and sat down at a table.\ +\ +The tables were greasy. The floor was strewed with sawdust. The waiters\ +were dirty, and the entire establishment was neither neat nor inviting.\ +But it was democratic. No customers were sent away because they were\ +unfashionably attired. The only requisite was money enough to defray\ +their bills. Nevertheless Giacomo felt a little in awe even of the dirty\ +waiters. His frugal meals were usually bought at the baker's shop, and\ +eaten standing in the street. Sitting down at a table, even though it\ +was greasy, seemed a degree of luxury to which he was not entitled. But\ +Phil more easily adapted himself to circumstances. He knew that he had\ +as much right there as any other customer.\ +\ +Presently a waiter presented himself.\ +\ +"Have you ordered?" he asked.\ +\ +"Give me some roast beef," said Phil. "What will you have, Giacomo?"\ +\ +"The same as you, Filippo," said Giacomo, in Italian.\ +\ +"What's that?" asked the waiter, thinking he had named some dish.\ +\ +"He will have some roast beef, too. Will you have some coffee, Giacomo?"\ +\ +"If you have it," answered the smaller boy.\ +\ +So Phil gave the double order, and very soon the coffee and meat were\ +placed before them. I suspect that few of my readers would have regarded\ +these articles with any relish. One need not be fastidious to find fault\ +with the dark-hued beverage, which was only a poor imitation of coffee,\ +and the dark fragments of meat, which might have been horseflesh so far\ +as appearance went. But to the two Italian boys it was indeed a feast.\ +The coffee, which was hot, warmed their stomachs, and seemed to them\ +like nectar, while the meat was as palatable as the epicure finds his\ +choicest dishes. While eating, even Giacomo forgot that he was\ +engaged in something unlawful, and his face was lighted up with rare\ +satisfaction.\ +\ +"It is good," said Phil, briefly, as he laid down his knife and fork,\ +after disposing of the last morsel upon his plate.\ +\ +"I wish I could have such a supper every day," said Giacomo.\ +\ +"I will when I am a man," said Phil.\ +\ +"I don't think I shall ever be a man," said Giacomo, shaking his head.\ +\ +"Why not?" asked Phil, regarding him with surprise.\ +\ +"I do not think I shall live."\ +\ +"What makes you think so, Giacomo?" said Phil, startled.\ +\ +"I am not strong, Filippo," said the little boy, "I think I get weaker\ +every day. I long so much to go back to Italy. If I could see my mother\ +once more, I would be willing to die then."\ +\ +"You must not think of such things, Giacomo," said Phil, who, like most\ +healthy boys, did not like to think of death. "You will get strong when\ +summer comes. The weather is bad now, of course."\ +\ +"I don't think I shall, Filippo. Do you remember Matteo?"\ +\ +"Yes, I remember him."\ +\ +Matteo was a comrade who had died six months before. He was a young boy,\ +about the size and age of Giacomo.\ +\ +"I dreamed of him last night, Filippo. He held out his hand to me."\ +\ +"Well?"\ +\ +"I think I am going to die, like him."\ +\ +"Don't be foolish, Giacomo," said Phil. But, though he said this, even\ +he was startled by what Giacomo had told him. He was ignorant, and the\ +ignorant are prone to superstition; so he felt uncomfortable, but did\ +not like to acknowledge it.\ +\ +"You must not think of this, Giacomo," he said. "You will be an old man\ +some day."\ +\ +"That's for you, Filippo. It isn't for me," said the little boy.\ +\ +"Come, let us go," said Phil, desirous of dropping the subject.\ +\ +He went up to the desk, and paid for both, the sum of thirty cents.\ +\ +"Now, come," he said.\ +\ +Giacomo followed him out, and they turned down the street, feeling\ +refreshed by the supper they had eaten. But unfortunately they had been\ +observed. As they left the restaurant, they attracted the attention\ +of Pietro, whom chance had brought thither at an unfortunate time. His\ +sinister face lighted up with joy as he realized the discovery he had\ +made. But he wished to make sure that it was as he supposed. They might\ +have gone in only to play and sing.\ +\ +He crossed the street, unobserved by Phil and Giacomo, and entered the\ +restaurant.\ +\ +"Were my two brothers here?" he asked, assuming relationship.\ +\ +"Two boys with fiddles?"\ +\ +"Yes; they just went out."\ +\ +"Did they get supper?"\ +\ +"Yes; they had some roast beef and coffee."\ +\ +"Thank you," said Pietro, and he left the restaurant with his suspicions\ +confirmed.\ +\ +"I shall tell the padrone," he said to himself.\ +\ +"They will feel the stick to-night."\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER X\ +\ +FRENCH'S HOTEL\ +\ +Pietro had one of those mean and malignant natures that are best pleased\ +when they are instrumental in bringing others into trouble. He looked\ +forward to becoming a padrone himself some time, and seemed admirably\ +fitted by nature to exercise the inhuman office. He lost no time, on his\ +return, in making known to his uncle what he had learned.\ +\ +For the boys to appropriate to their own use money which had been\ +received for their services was, in the eyes of the padrone, a crime of\ +the darkest shade. In fact, if the example were generally followed, it\ +would have made a large diminution of his income, though the boys might\ +have been benefited. He listened to Pietro with an ominous scowl, and\ +decided to inflict condign punishment upon the young offenders.\ +\ +Meanwhile Phil and Giacomo resumed their wanderings. They no longer\ +hoped to make up the large difference between what they had and the sum\ +they were expected by the padrone to bring. As the evening advanced the\ +cold increased, and penetrated through their thin clothing, chilling\ +them through and through. Giacomo felt it the most. By and by he began\ +to sob with the cold and fatigue.\ +\ +"What is the matter, Giacomo?" asked Phil, anxiously.\ +\ +"I feel so cold, Filippo--so cold and tired. I wish I could rest."\ +\ +The boys were in Printing House Square, near the spot where now stands\ +the Franklin statue.\ +\ +"If you want to rest, Giacomo," said Phil, pityingly, "we will go into\ +French's Hotel a little while."\ +\ +"I should like to."\ +\ +They entered the hotel and sat down near the heater. The grateful warmth\ +diffused itself through their frames, and Giacomo sank back in his seat\ +with a sigh of relief.\ +\ +"Do you feel better, Giacomo?" asked his comrade.\ +\ +"Yes, Filippo; I wish I could stay here till it is time to go home."\ +\ +"We will, then. We shall get no more money outside."\ +\ +"The padrone----"\ +\ +"Will beat us at any rate. It will be no worse for us. Besides they may\ +possibly ask us to play here."\ +\ +"I can play no more to-night, Filippo, I am so tired."\ +\ +Phil knew very little of sickness, or he might have seen that Giacomo\ +was going to be ill. Exposure, fatigue, and privation had been too much\ +for his strength. He had never been robust, and he had been subjected to\ +trials that would have proved hard for one much stronger to bear.\ +\ +When he had once determined to remain in the comfortable hotel, Phil\ +leaned back in his chair also, and decided to enjoy all the comfort\ +attainable. What though there was a beating in prospect?\ +\ +He had before him two or three hours of rest and relief from the outside\ +cold. He was something of a philosopher, and chose not to let future\ +evil interfere with present good.\ +\ +Near the two boys sat two young men--merchants from the interior of New\ +York State, who were making a business visit to the metropolis.\ +\ +"Well, Gardner," said the first, "where shall we go to-night?"\ +\ +"Why need we go anywhere?"\ +\ +"I thought you might like to go to some place of amusement."\ +\ +"So I would if the weather were less inclement. The most comfortable\ +place is by the fire."\ +\ +"You are right as to that, but the evening will be long and stupid."\ +\ +"Oh, we can worry it through. Here, for instance, are two young\ +musicians," indicating the little fiddlers. "Suppose we get a tune out\ +of them?"\ +\ +"Agreed. Here, boy, can you play on that fiddle?"\ +\ +"Yes," said Phil.\ +\ +"Well, give us a tune, then. Is that your brother?"\ +\ +"No, he is my comrade."\ +\ +"He can play, too."\ +\ +"Will you play, Giacomo?"\ +\ +The younger boy roused himself. The two stood up, and played two or\ +three tunes successfully. A group of loungers gathered around them and\ +listened approvingly. When they had finished Phil took off his hat and\ +went the rounds. Some gave, the two first mentioned contributing most\ +liberally. The whole sum collected was about fifty cents.\ +\ +Phil and Giacomo now resumed their seats. They felt now that they were\ +entitled to rest for the remainder of the evening, since they had gained\ +quite as much as they would have been likely to earn in wandering about\ +the streets. The group that had gathered about them dispersed, and they\ +ceased to be objects of attention. Fatigue and the warmth of the room\ +gradually affected Giacomo until he leaned back and fell asleep.\ +\ +"I won't take him till it's time to go back," thought Phil.\ +\ +So Giacomo slept on, despite the noises in the street outside and the\ +confusion incident to every large hotel. As he sat asleep, he attracted\ +the attention of a stout gentleman who was passing, leading by the hand\ +a boy of ten.\ +\ +"Is that your brother?" he asked in a low tone of Phil.\ +\ +"No, signore; it is my comrade."\ +\ +"So you go about together?"\ +\ +"Yes, sir," answered Phil, bethinking himself to use English instead of\ +Italian.\ +\ +"He seems tired."\ +\ +"Yes; he is not so strong as I am."\ +\ +"Do you play about the streets all day?"\ +\ +"Yes, sir."\ +\ +"How would you like that, Henry?" asked his father to the boy at his\ +side.\ +\ +"I should like to play about the streets all day," said Henry,\ +roguishly, misinterpreting the word "play."\ +\ +"I think you would get tired of it. What is your name, my boy?"\ +\ +"Filippo."\ +\ +"And what is the name of your friend?"\ +\ +"Giacomo."\ +\ +"Did you never go to school?"\ +\ +Phil shook his head.\ +\ +"Would you like to go?"\ +\ +"Yes, sir."\ +\ +"You would like it better than wandering about the streets all day?"\ +\ +"Yes, sir."\ +\ +"Why do you not ask your father to send you to school?"\ +\ +"My father is in Italy."\ +\ +"And his father, also?"\ +\ +"Si, signore," answered Phil, relapsing into Italian.\ +\ +"What do you think of that, Henry?" asked the gentleman. "How should\ +you like to leave me, and go to some Italian city to roam about all day,\ +playing on the violin?"\ +\ +"I think I would rather go to school."\ +\ +"I think you would."\ +\ +"Are you often out so late, Filippo? I think that is the name you gave\ +me."\ +\ +Phil shrugged his shoulders\ +\ +"Always," he answered.\ +\ +"At what time do you go home?"\ +\ +"At eleven."\ +\ +"It is too late for a boy of your age to sit up. Why do you not go home\ +sooner?"\ +\ +"The padrone would beat me."\ +\ +"Who is the padrone?"\ +\ +"The man who brought me from Italy to America."\ +\ +"Poor boys!" said the gentleman, compassionately. "Yours is a hard life.\ +I hope some time you will be in a better position."\ +\ +Phil fixed his dark eyes upon the stranger, grateful for his words of\ +sympathy.\ +\ +"Thank you," he said.\ +\ +"Good-night," said the stranger, kindly.\ +\ +"Good-night, signore."\ +\ +An hour passed. The City Hall clock near by struck eleven. The time had\ +come for returning to their mercenary guardian. Phil shook the sleeping\ +form of Giacomo. The little boy stirred in his sleep, and murmured,\ +"Madre." He had been dreaming of his mother and his far-off Italian\ +home. He woke to the harsh realities of life, four thousand miles away\ +from that mother and home.\ +\ +"Have I slept, Filippo?" he asked, rubbing his eyes, and looking about\ +him in momentary bewilderment.\ +\ +"Yes, Giacomo. You have slept for two hours and more. It is eleven\ +o'clock."\ +\ +"Then we must go back."\ +\ +"Yes; take your violin, and we will go."\ +\ +They passed out into the cold street, which seemed yet colder by\ +contrast with the warm hotel they just left, and, crossing to the\ +sidewalk that skirts the park, walked up Centre street.\ +\ +Giacomo was seized with a fit of trembling. His teeth chattered with\ +the cold. A fever was approaching, although neither he nor his companion\ +knew it.\ +\ +"Are you cold, Giacomo?" asked Phil, noticing how he trembled.\ +\ +"I am very cold. I feel sick, Filippo."\ +\ +"You will feel better to-morrow," said Phil; but the thought of the\ +beating which his little comrade was sure to receive saddened him more\ +than the prospect of being treated in the same way himself.\ +\ +They kept on their way, past the Tombs with its gloomy entrance, through\ +the ill-lighted street, scarcely noticed by the policeman whom they\ +passed--for he was accustomed to see boys of their class out late at\ +night--until at last they reached the dwelling of the padrone, who was\ +waiting their arrival with the eagerness of a brutal nature, impatient\ +to inflict pain.\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XI\ +\ +THE BOYS RECEPTION\ +\ +Phil and Giacomo entered the lodging-house, wholly unconscious of the\ +threatening storm, The padrone scowled at them as they entered but that\ +was nothing unusual. Had he greeted them kindly, they would have had\ +reason to be surprised.\ +\ +"Well," he said, harshly, "how much do you bring?"\ +\ +The boys produced two dollars and a half which he pocketed.\ +\ +"Is this all?" he asked.\ +\ +"It was cold," said Phil, "and we could not get more."\ +\ +The padrone listened with an ominous frown.\ +\ +"Are you hungry?" he asked. "Do you want your supper?"\ +\ +Phil was puzzled by his manner, for he expected to be deprived of his\ +supper on account of bringing less money than usual. Why should the\ +padrone ask him if he wanted his supper? Though he was not hungry, he\ +thought it best to answer in the affirmative.\ +\ +"What would you like?" asked the padrone.\ +\ +Again Phil was puzzled, for the suppers supplied by the padrone never\ +varied, always consisting of bread and cheese.\ +\ +"Perhaps," continued the padrone, meeting no answer, "you would like to\ +have coffee and roast beef."\ +\ +All was clear now. Phil understood that he had been seen going in or out\ +of the restaurant, though he could not tell by whom. He knew well enough\ +what to expect, but a chivalrous feeling of friendship led him to try to\ +shield his young companion, even at the risk of a more severe punishment\ +to be inflicted upon himself.\ +\ +"It was my fault," he said, manfully. "Giacomo would not have gone in\ +but for me."\ +\ +"Wicked, ungrateful boy!" exclaimed the padrone, wrathfully. "It was my\ +money that you spent. You are a thief!"\ +\ +Phil felt that this was a hard word, which he did not deserve. The money\ +was earned by himself, though claimed by the padrone. But he did not\ +venture to say this. It would have been revolutionary. He thought it\ +prudent to be silent.\ +\ +"Why do you say nothing?" exclaimed the padrone, stamping his foot. "Why\ +did you spend my money?"\ +\ +"I was hungry."\ +\ +"So you must live like a nobleman! Our supper is not good enough for\ +you. How much did you spend?"\ +\ +"Thirty cents."\ +\ +"For each?"\ +\ +"No, signore, for both."\ +\ +"Then you shall have each fifteen blows, one for each penny. I will\ +teach you to be a thief. Pietro, the stick! Now, strip!"\ +\ +"Padrone," said Phil, generously, "let me have all the blows. It was my\ +fault; Giacomo only went because I asked him."\ +\ +If the padrone had had a heart, this generous request would have touched\ +it; but he was not troubled in that way.\ +\ +"He must be whipped, too," he said. "He should not have gone with you."\ +\ +"He is sick, padrone," persisted Phil. "Excuse him till he is better."\ +\ +"Not a word more," roared the padrone, irritated at his persistence.\ +"If he is sick, it is because he has eaten too much," he added, with a\ +sneer. "Pietro, my stick!"\ +\ +The two boys began to strip mechanically, knowing that there was no\ +appeal. Phil stood bare to the waist. The padrone seized the stick and\ +began to belabor him. Phil's brown face showed by its contortions the\ +pain he suffered, but he was too proud to cry out. When the punishment\ +was finished his back was streaked with red, and looked maimed and\ +bruised.\ +\ +"Put on your shirt!" commanded the tyrant.\ +\ +Phil drew it on over his bleeding back and resumed his place among his\ +comrades.\ +\ +"Now!" said the padrone, beckoning to Giacomo.\ +\ +The little boy approached shivering, not so much with cold as with the\ +fever that had already begun to prey upon him.\ +\ +Phil turned pale and sick as he looked at the padrone preparing to\ +inflict punishment. He would gladly have left the room, but he knew that\ +it would not be permitted.\ +\ +The first blow descended heavily upon the shrinking form of the little\ +victim. It was followed by a shriek of pain and terror.\ +\ +"What are you howling at?" muttered the padrone, between his teeth. "I\ +will whip you the harder."\ +\ +Giacomo would have been less able to bear the cruel punishment than Phil\ +if he had been well, but being sick, it was all the more terrible to\ +him. The second blow likewise was followed by a shriek of anguish. Phil\ +looked on with pale face, set teeth, and blazing eyes, as he saw the\ +barbarous punishment of his comrade. He felt that he hated the padrone\ +with a fierce hatred. Had his strength been equal to the attempt, he\ +would have flung himself upon the padrone. As it was, he looked at his\ +comrades, half wishing that they would combine with him against their\ +joint oppressor. But there was no hope of that. Some congratulated\ +themselves that they were not in Giacomo's place; others looked upon his\ +punishment as a matter of course. There was no dream of interference,\ +save in the mind of Phil.\ +\ +The punishment continued amid the groans and prayers for mercy of the\ +little sufferer. But at the eighth stroke his pain and terror reached\ +a climax, and nature succumbed. He sank on the floor, fainting. The\ +padrone thought at first it was a pretense, and was about to repeat\ +the strokes, when a look at the pallid, colorless face of the little\ +sufferer alarmed him. It did not excite his compassion, but kindled\ +the fear that the boy might be dying, in which case the police might\ +interfere and give him trouble; therefore he desisted, but unwillingly.\ +\ +"He is sick," said Phil, starting forward.\ +\ +"He is no more sick than I am," scowled the padrone. "Pietro, some\ +water!"\ +\ +Pietro brought a glass of water, which the padrone threw in the face of\ +the fallen boy. The shock brought him partially to. He opened his eyes,\ +and looked around vacantly.\ +\ +"What is the matter with you?" demanded the padrone, harshly.\ +\ +"Where am I?" asked Giacomo, bewildered. But, as he asked this question,\ +his eyes met the dark look of his tyrant, and he clasped his hands in\ +terror.\ +\ +"Do not beat me!" he pleaded. "I feel sick."\ +\ +"He is only shamming," said Pietro, who was worthy to be the servant and\ +nephew of such a master. But the padrone thought it would not be prudent\ +to continue the punishment.\ +\ +"Help him put on his clothes, Pietro," he said. "I will let you off this\ +time, little rascal, but take heed that you never again steal a single\ +cent of my money."\ +\ +Giacomo was allowed to seek his uncomfortable bed. His back was so sore\ +with the beating he had received that he was compelled to lie on his\ +side. During the night the feverish symptoms increased, and before\ +morning he was very sick. The padrone was forced to take some measures\ +for his recovery, not from motives of humanity, but because Giacomo's\ +death would cut off a source of daily revenue, and this, in the eyes of\ +the mercenary padrone, was an important consideration.\ +\ +Phil went to bed in silence. Though he was suffering from the brutal\ +blows he had received, the thought of the punishment and suffering of\ +Giacomo affected him more deeply than his own. As I have said, the two\ +boys came from the same town in southern Italy. They had known each\ +other almost from infancy, and something of a fraternal feeling had\ +grown up between them. In Phil's case, since he was the stronger, it was\ +accompanied by the feeling that he should be a protector to the younger\ +boy, who, on his side, looked up to Phil as stronger and wiser than\ +himself. Though only a boy of twelve, what had happened led Phil to\ +think seriously of his position and prospects. He did not know for how\ +long his services had been sold to the padrone by his father, but he\ +felt sure that the letter of the contract would be little regarded as\ +long as his services were found profitable.\ +\ +What hope, then, had he of better treatment in the future? There seemed\ +no prospect except of continued oppression and long days of hardship,\ +unless--and here the suggestion of Mr. Pomeroy occurred to him--unless\ +he ran away. He had known of boys doing this before. Some had been\ +brought back, and, of course, were punished severely for their temerity,\ +but others had escaped, and had never returned. What had become of them\ +Phil did not know, but he rightly concluded that they could not be any\ +worse off than in the service of the padrone. Thinking of all this, Phil\ +began to think it probable that he, too, would some day break his bonds\ +and run away. He did not fix upon any time. He had not got as far as\ +this. But circumstances, as we shall find in our next chapter, hastened\ +his determination, and this, though he knew it not, was the last night\ +he would sleep in the house of the padrone.\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XII\ +\ +GIACOMO'S PRESENTIMENTS\ +\ +Phil woke up the next morning feeling lame and sore. His back bore\ +traces of the flogging he had received the night before. As his eyes\ +opened, they rested upon twenty boys lying about him, and also upon the\ +dark, unsightly walls of the shabby room, and the prospect before him\ +served to depress even his hopeful temperament. But he was not permitted\ +to meditate long. Pietro opened the door, and called out in harsh tones:\ +"Get up, all of you, or the padrone will be here with his stick!"\ +\ +The invitation was heard and obeyed. The boys got up, yawning and\ +rubbing their eyes, having a wholesome dread of their tyrant and his\ +stick, which no tenderness of heart ever made him reluctant to use.\ +Their toilet did not require long to make. The padrone was quite\ +indifferent whether they were clean or not, and offered them no\ +facilities for washing.\ +\ +When they were dressed they were supplied with a frugal breakfast--a\ +piece of bread and cheese each; their instruments were given them, and\ +they were started off for a long day of toil.\ +\ +Phil looked around for Giacomo, who had slept in a different room, but\ +he was not to be seen.\ +\ +"Is Giacomo sick this morning, Pietro?" he asked of the padrone's\ +nephew.\ +\ +"He pretends to be sick, little drone!" said Pietro, unfeelingly. "If I\ +were the padrone, I would let him taste the stick again."\ +\ +Phil felt that he would like to see the brutal speaker suffering the\ +punishment he wanted inflicted on him; but he knew Pietro's power and\ +malice too well to give utterance to the wish. A longing came to him to\ +see Giacomo before he went out. He might have had a secret presentiment\ +of what was coming.\ +\ +"Signor Pietro," he said, "may I see Giacomo before I go out?"\ +\ +This request would have been refused without doubt, but that Pietro felt\ +flattered at being addressed as signor, to which his years did not yet\ +entitle him. Phil knew this, and therefore used the title.\ +\ +"What do you want to see him for?" he asked, suspiciously.\ +\ +"I want to ask him how he feels."\ +\ +"Yes, you can go in. Tell him he must get up to-morrow. The padrone will\ +not let him spend his time in idleness."\ +\ +So Phil, having already his fiddle under his arm, entered the room where\ +Giacomo lay. The other occupants of the room had risen, and the little\ +boy was lying on a hard pallet in the corner. His eyes lighted up with\ +joy as he saw Phil enter.\ +\ +"I am glad it is you, Filippo," he said; "I thought it was the padrone,\ +come to make me get up."\ +\ +"How do you feel this morning, Giacomo?"\ +\ +"I do not feel well, Filippo. My back is sore, and I am so weak."\ +\ +His eyes were very bright with the fever that had now control, and his\ +cheeks were hot and flushed. Phil put his hand upon them.\ +\ +"Your cheeks are very hot, Giacomo," he said. "You are going to be\ +sick."\ +\ +"I know it, Filippo," said the little boy. "I may be very sick."\ +\ +"I hope not, Giacomo."\ +\ +"Lean over, Filippo," said Giacomo. "I want to tell you something."\ +\ +Phil leaned over until his ear was close to the mouth of his little\ +comrade.\ +\ +"I think I am going to die, Filippo," whispered Giacomo.\ +\ +Phil started in dismay.\ +\ +"No, no, Giacomo," he said; "that is nonsense. You will live a great\ +many years."\ +\ +"I think you will, Filippo. You are strong. But I have always been weak,\ +and lately I am tired all the time. I don't care to live--very much. It\ +is hard to live;" and the little boy sighed as he spoke.\ +\ +"You are too young to die, Giacomo. It is only because you are sick that\ +you think of it. You will soon be better."\ +\ +"I do not think so, Filippo. I should like to live for one thing."\ +\ +"What is that?" asked Phil, gazing with strange wonder at the patient,\ +sad face of the little sufferer, who seemed so ready to part with the\ +life which, in spite of his privations and hardships, seemed so bright\ +to him.\ +\ +"I should like to go back to my home in Italy, and see my mother again\ +before I die. She loved me."\ +\ +The almost unconscious emphasis which he laid on the word "she" showed\ +that in his own mind he was comparing her with his father, who had sold\ +him into such cruel slavery.\ +\ +"If you live, Giacomo, you will go back and see her some day."\ +\ +"I shall never see her again, Filippo," said the little boy, sadly. "If\ +you ever go back to Italy--when you are older--will you go and see her,\ +and tell her that--that I thought of her when I was sick, and wanted to\ +see her?"\ +\ +"Yes, Giacomo," said Phil, affected by his little companion's manner.\ +\ +"Filippo!" called Pietro, in harsh tones.\ +\ +"I must go," said Phil, starting to his feet.\ +\ +"Kiss me before you go," said Giacomo.\ +\ +Phil bent over and kissed the feverish lips of the little boy, and then\ +hurried out of the room. He never saw Giacomo again; and this, though he\ +knew it not, was his last farewell to his little comrade.\ +\ +So Phil commenced his wanderings. He was free in one way--he could go\ +where he pleased. The padrone did not care where he picked up his money,\ +as long as he brought home a satisfactory amount. Phil turned to go up\ +town, though he had no definite destination in view. He missed Giacomo,\ +who lately had wandered about in his company, and felt lonely without\ +him.\ +\ +"Poor Giacomo!" he thought. "I hope he will be well soon."\ +\ +"Avast there, boy!" someone called. "Just come to anchor, and give us a\ +tune."\ +\ +Phil looked up and saw two sailors bearing down upon him (to use a\ +nautical phrase) with arms locked, and evidently with more liquor aboard\ +than they could carry steadily.\ +\ +"Give us a tune, boy, and we'll pay you," said the second.\ +\ +Phil had met such customers before, and knew what would please them. He\ +began playing some lively dancing tunes, with so much effect that the\ +sailors essayed to dance on the sidewalk, much to the amusement of a\ +group of boys who collected around them.\ +\ +"Go it, bluejacket! Go it, boots!" exclaimed the boys, designating them\ +by certain prominent articles of dress.\ +\ +The applause appeared to stimulate them to further efforts, and they\ +danced and jumped high in air, to the hilarious delight of their\ +juvenile spectators. After a time such a crowd collected that the\ +attention of a passing policeman was attracted.\ +\ +"What's all this disturbance?" he demanded, in tones of authority.\ +\ +"We're stretching our legs a little, shipmate," said the first sailor.\ +\ +"Then you'd better stretch them somewhere else than in the street."\ +\ +"I thought this was a free country," hiccoughed the second.\ +\ +"You'll find it isn't if I get hold of you," said the officer.\ +\ +"Want to fight?" demanded the second sailor, belligerently.\ +\ +"Boy, stop playing," said the policeman. "I don't want to arrest these\ +men unless I am obliged to do it."\ +\ +Phil stopped playing, and this put a stop to the dance. Finding there\ +was no more to be seen, the crowd also dispersed. With arms again\ +interlocked, the sailors were about to resume their walk, forgetting to\ +"pay the piper." But Phil was not at all bashful about presenting his\ +claims. He took off his cap, and going up to the jolly pair said, "I\ +want some pennies."\ +\ +Sailors are free with their money. Parsimony is not one of their vices.\ +Both thrust their hands into their pockets, and each drew out a handful\ +of scrip, which they put into Phil's hands, without looking to see how\ +much it might be.\ +\ +"That's all right, boy, isn't it?" inquired the first.\ +\ +"All right," answered Phil, wondering at their munificence. He only\ +anticipated a few pennies, and here looked to be as much as he was\ +generally able to secure in a day. As soon as he got a good chance he\ +counted it over, and found four half dollars, three quarters, and four\ +tens--in all, three dollars and fifteen cents. At this rate, probably,\ +the sailors' money would not last long. However this was none of Phil's\ +business. It was only nine o'clock in the forenoon, and he had already\ +secured enough to purchase immunity from blows at night. Still there\ +was one thing unsatisfactory about it. All this money was to go into\ +the hands of the padrone. Phil himself would reap none of the benefit,\ +unless he bought his dinner, as he had purchased supper the evening\ +before. But for this he had been severely punished, though he could\ +not feel that he had done very wrong in spending the money he himself\ +earned. However, it would be at least three hours before the question of\ +dinner would come up.\ +\ +He put the money into the pocket of his ragged vest, and walked on.\ +\ +It was not so cold as the day before. The thermometer had risen\ +twenty-five degrees during the night--a great change, but not unusual in\ +our variable climate. Phil rather enjoyed this walk, notwithstanding his\ +back was a little lame.\ +\ +He walked up the Bowery to the point where Third and Fourth avenues\ +converge into it. He kept on the left-hand side, and walked up Fourth\ +Avenue, passing the Cooper Institute and the Bible House, and, a little\ +further on, Stewart's magnificent marble store. On the block just above\ +stood a book and periodical store, kept, as the sign indicated, by\ +Richard Burnton. Phil paused a moment to look in at the windows, which\ +were filled with a variety of attractive articles. Suddenly he was\ +conscious of his violin being forcibly snatched from under his arm.\ +He turned quickly, and thought he recognized Tim Rafferty, to whom the\ +reader was introduced in the third chapter of this story.\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XIII\ +\ +PHIL FINDS A CAPITALIST\ +\ +To account for Phil's unexpected loss, I must explain that Tim Rafferty,\ +whose ordinary place of business was in or near the City Hall Park, had\ +been sent uptown on an errand. He was making his way back leisurely,\ +when, just as he was passing Burnton's bookstore, he saw Phil looking\ +in at the window. He immediately recognized him as the little Italian\ +fiddler who had refused to lend him his fiddle, as described in a\ +previous chapter. In his attempt he was frustrated by Paul Hoffman. His\ +defeat incensed him, and he determined, if he ever met Phil again, to\ +"get even with him," as he expressed it. It struck him that this was a\ +good opportunity to borrow his fiddle without leave.\ +\ +When Phil discovered his loss, he determined to run after the thief.\ +\ +"Give me back my fiddle!" he cried.\ +\ +But this Tim was in no hurry to do. As he had longer legs than Phil, the\ +chances were that he would escape. But some distance ahead he saw one of\ +the blue-coated guardians of the public peace, or, in newsboy parlance,\ +a cop, and saw that Phil could easily prove theft against him, as it\ +would be impossible to pass himself off as a fiddler. He must get rid of\ +the violin in some way, and the sooner the better. He threw it into the\ +middle of the street, just as a heavy cart was coming along. The wheels\ +of the ponderous vehicle passed over the frail instrument, crushing it\ +utterly. Phil ran forward to rescue his instrument, but too late. It\ +was spoiled beyond recovery. Phil picked up the pieces mechanically, and\ +took them back with him, but he soon realized that he might as well cast\ +them away again. Meanwhile Tim, satisfied with the mischief he had done,\ +and feeling revenged for his former mortification, walked up a side\ +street, and escaped interference.\ +\ +Phil had come to one of those crises in human experience when it is\ +necessary to pause and decide what to do next. The fiddle was not a\ +valuable one--in fact, it was a shabby little instrument--but it was\ +Phil's stock in trade. Moreover, it belonged to the padrone, and however\ +innocent Phil might be as regarded its destruction, his tyrannical\ +master was sure to call him to heavy account for it. He was certain to\ +be severely punished, more so than the evening before, and this was\ +not a pleasant prospect to look forward to. The padrone was sure not to\ +forgive an offense like this.\ +\ +Thinking over these things, a bold suggestion came into Phil's mind.\ +Why need he go back at all? Why should he not take this occasion for\ +breaking his fetters, and starting out into life on his own account?\ +There was nothing alarming in that prospect. He was not afraid but that\ +he could earn his own living, and fare better than he did at present,\ +when out of his earnings and those of his comrades the padrone was\ +growing rich. Other boys had run away, and though some had been brought\ +back, others had managed to keep out of the cruel clutches of their\ +despotic master.\ +\ +It did not take Phil long to come to a decision. He felt that he should\ +never have a better chance. He had three dollars in his pocket thanks\ +to the generosity of the sailors--and this would last him some time.\ +It would enable him to get out of the city, which would be absolutely\ +necessary, since, if he remained, the padrone would send Pietro for him\ +and get him back.\ +\ +There was only one regret he had at leaving the padrone. It would part\ +him from his little comrade, Giacomo. Giacomo, at least, would miss\ +him. He wished the little boy could have gone with him, but this, under\ +present circumstances, was impossible. By staying he would only incur a\ +severe punishment, without being able to help his comrade.\ +\ +It was still but nine o'clock. He had plenty of time before him, as\ +he would not be missed by the padrone until he failed to make his\ +appearance at night. Having no further occasion to go uptown, he\ +decided to turn and walk down into the business portion of the city.\ +He accordingly made his way leisurely to the City Hall Park, when he\ +suddenly bethought himself of Paul Hoffman, who had served as his friend\ +on a former occasion. Besides Giacomo, Paul was the only friend on whom\ +he could rely in the city. Paul was older and had more experience than\ +he, and could, no doubt, give him good advice as to his future plans.\ +\ +He crossed the Park and Broadway, and kept along on the west side of the\ +street until he reached the necktie stand kept by Paul. The young street\ +merchant did not at first see him, being occupied with a customer, to\ +whom he finally succeeded in selling two neckties; then looking up, he\ +recognized the young fiddler.\ +\ +"How are you, Phil?" he said, in a friendly manner. "Where have you kept\ +yourself? I have not seen you for a long time."\ +\ +"I have been fiddling," said Phil.\ +\ +"But I don't see your violin now. What has become of it?"\ +\ +"It is broken--destroyed," said Phil.\ +\ +"How did that happen?"\ +\ +Phil described the manner in which his violin had been stolen.\ +\ +"Do you know who stole it?"\ +\ +"It was that boy who tried to take it once in the Park."\ +\ +"When I stopped him?"\ +\ +"Yes."\ +\ +"I know him. It is Tim Rafferty. He is a mean boy; I will pay him up for\ +it."\ +\ +"I do not care for it now," said Phil.\ +\ +"But what will your padrone say when you come home without it?"\ +\ +"He would beat me, but I will not go home."\ +\ +"What will you do?"\ +\ +"I will run away."\ +\ +"Good for you, Phil! I like your spunk," said Paul, heartily. "I\ +wouldn't go back to the old villain if I were you. Where are you going?"\ +\ +"Away from New York. If I stay here the padrone would catch me."\ +\ +"How much did you earn with your fiddle when you had it?"\ +\ +"Two dollars, if it was a good day."\ +\ +"That is excellent. I'll tell you what, Phil, if you could stay in the\ +city, I would invite you to come and live with us. You could pay your\ +share of the expense, say three or four dollars a week, and keep the\ +rest of your money to buy clothes, and to save."\ +\ +"I should like it," said Phil; "but if I stay in the city the padrone\ +would get hold of me."\ +\ +"Has he any legal right to your services?" asked Paul.\ +\ +Phil looked puzzled. He did not understand the question.\ +\ +"I mean did your father sign any paper giving you to him?"\ +\ +"Yes," said Phil, comprehending now.\ +\ +"Then I suppose he could take you back. You think you must go away from\ +the city, then, Phil?"\ +\ +"Yes."\ +\ +"Where do you think of going?"\ +\ +"I do not know."\ +\ +"You might go to Jersey--to Newark, which is quite a large city, only\ +ten miles from here."\ +\ +"I should like to go there."\ +\ +"I don't think the padrone would send there to find you. But how are you\ +going to make your living--you have lost your fiddle?"\ +\ +"I can sing."\ +\ +"But you would make more money with your fiddle."\ +\ +"Si, signore."\ +\ +"Don't talk to me in Italian, Phil; I no understand it."\ +\ +Phil laughed.\ +\ +"You can speak English much better than most Italian boys."\ +\ +"Some cannot speak at all. Some speak french, because we all stayed in\ +Paris sometime before we came to America."\ +\ +"Parlez-vous Francais?"\ +\ +"Oui, monsieur, un peu."\ +\ +"Well, I can't. Those three words are all the French I know. But, I say,\ +Phil, you ought to have a fiddle."\ +\ +"I should like to have one. I should make more money."\ +\ +"How much would one cost?"\ +\ +"I don't know."\ +\ +"I'll tell you what I will do, Phil," said Paul, after a moment's\ +thought. "I know a pawnbroker's shop on Chatham Street where there is\ +a fiddle for sale. I don't think it will cost very much; not more than\ +five dollars. You must buy it."\ +\ +"I have not five dollars," said Phil.\ +\ +"Then I will lend you the money. You shall buy it, and when you have\ +earned money enough you shall come back to New York some day and pay\ +me."\ +\ +"Thank you," said Phil, gratefully. "I will surely pay you."\ +\ +"Of course you will, Phil," said Paul, confidently. "I can see by your\ +face that you are honest. I don't believe you would cheat your friend."\ +\ +"I would not cheat you, Signor Paul."\ +\ +"I see, Phil, you are bound to make an Italian of me. You may just\ +call me Paul, and don't mind about the signor. Now I'll tell you what I\ +propose. I cannot leave my business for an hour and a half. You can go\ +where you please, but come back at that time, and I will take you home\ +to dinner with me. On the way back I will stop with you at the Chatham\ +Street store and ask the price of the violin; then, if it doesn't cost\ +too much, I will buy it."\ +\ +"All right," said Phil.\ +\ +"You must come back at twelve o'clock, Phil."\ +\ +"I will come."\ +\ +Phil strolled down to the Battery, feeling a little strange without his\ +violin. He was elated with the thought of his coming freedom, and for\ +the first time since he landed in America the future looked bright to\ +him.\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XIV\ +\ +THE TAMBOURINE GIRL\ +\ +Arriving at Trinity Church, Phil turned into Wall Street, looking about\ +him in a desultory way, for he was at present out of business. Men and\ +boys were hurrying by in different directions, to and from banks and\ +insurance offices, while here and there a lawyer or lawyer's clerk might\ +be seen looking no less busy and preoccupied. If Phil had had three\ +thousand dollars instead of three, he, too, might have been interested\ +in the price of gold and stocks; but his financial education had\ +been neglected, and he could not have guessed within twenty the day's\ +quotations for either.\ +\ +As he walked along his attention was suddenly drawn to a pair of\ +Italians, a man and a girl of twelve, the former turning a hand-organ,\ +the latter playing a tambourine. There was nothing unusual in the group;\ +but Phil's heart beat quick for in the girl he thought he recognized a\ +playmate from the same village in which he was born and bred.\ +\ +"Lucia!" he called, eagerly approaching the pair.\ +\ +The girl turned quickly, and, seeing the young fiddler, let fall her\ +tambourine in surprise.\ +\ +"Filippo!" she exclaimed, her eyes lighting up with the joy with which\ +we greet a friend's face in a strange land.\ +\ +"Why did you drop your tambourine, scelerata?" demanded the man,\ +harshly.\ +\ +Lucia, a pretty, brown-faced girl, did not lose her joyful look even at\ +this rebuke. She stooped and picked up the tambourine, and began to play\ +mechanically, but continued to speak to Filippo.\ +\ +"How long are you in the city?" asked Phil, speaking, of course, in his\ +native language.\ +\ +"Only two weeks," answered Lucia. "I am so glad to see you, Filippo."\ +\ +"When did you come from Italy?"\ +\ +"I cannot tell. I think it is somewhere about two months."\ +\ +"And did you see my mother before you came away?" asked Phil, eagerly.\ +\ +"Yes, Filippo, I saw her. She told me if I saw you to say that she\ +longed for her dear boy to return; that she thought of him day and\ +night."\ +\ +"Did she say that, Lucia?"\ +\ +"Yes, Filippo."\ +\ +"And is my mother well?" asked Phil, anxiously, for he had a strong love\ +for his mother.\ +\ +"She is well, Filippo--she is not sick, but she is thin, and she looks\ +sad."\ +\ +"I will go and see her some day," said Phil. "I wish I could see her\ +now."\ +\ +"When will you go?"\ +\ +"I don't know; when I am older."\ +\ +"But where is your fiddle, Filippo?" asked Lucia. "Do you not play?"\ +\ +Filippo glanced at the organ-grinder, whom he did not dare to take into\ +his confidence. So he answered, evasively:\ +\ +"Another boy took it. I shall get another this afternoon."\ +\ +"Are you with the padrone?"\ +\ +"Yes."\ +\ +"Come, Lucia," said the man, roughly, ceasing to play, "we must go on."\ +\ +Lucia followed her companion obediently, reluctant to leave Phil,\ +with whom she desired to converse longer; but the latter saw that her\ +guardian did not wish the conversation to continue, and so did not\ +follow.\ +\ +This unexpected meeting with Lucia gave him much to think of. It carried\ +back his thoughts to his humble, but still dear, Italian home, and the\ +mother from whom he had never met with anything but kindness, and a\ +longing to see both made him for the moment almost sad. But he was\ +naturally of a joyous temperament, and hope soon returned.\ +\ +"I will save money enough to go home," he said to himself. "It will not\ +take very much--not more than fifty dollars. I can get it soon if I do\ +not have to pay money to the padrone."\ +\ +As may be inferred, Phil did not expect to return home in style. A\ +first-class ticket on a Cunarder was far above his expectations. He\ +would be content to go by steerage all the way, and that could probably\ +be done for the sum he named. So his sadness was but brief, and be soon\ +became hopeful again.\ +\ +He was aroused from his thoughts of home by a hand laid familiarly on\ +his shoulder. Turning, he saw a bootblack, whose adventures have\ +been chronicled in the volume called "Ragged Dick." They had become\ +acquainted some three months before, Dick having acted as a protector to\ +Phil against some rough boys of his own class.\ +\ +"Been buyin' stocks?" asked Dick.\ +\ +"I don't know what they are," said Phil, innocently.\ +\ +"You're a green one," said Dick. "I shall have to take you into my\ +bankin' house and give you some training in business."\ +\ +"Have you got a bankin' house?" asked Phil, in surprise.\ +\ +"In course I have. Don't you see it?" pointing to an imposing-looking\ +structure in front of which they were just passing. "My clerks is all\ +hard to work in there, while I go out to take the air for the benefit of\ +my constitushun."\ +\ +Phil looked puzzled, not quite understanding Dick's chaffing, and looked\ +rather inquiringly at the blacking box, finding it a little difficult to\ +understand why a banker on so large a scale should be blacking boots in\ +the street.\ +\ +"Shine your boots, sir?" said Dick to a gentleman just passing.\ +\ +"Not now; I'm in a hurry."\ +\ +"Blackin' boots is good exercise," continued Dick, answering the doubt\ +in Phil's face. "I do it for the benefit of my health, thus combinin'\ +profit with salubriousness."\ +\ +"I can't understand such long words," said Phil. "I don't know much\ +English."\ +\ +"I would talk to you in Italian," said Dick, "only it makes my head\ +ache. What's come of your fiddle? You haven't sold it, and bought Erie\ +shares, have you?"\ +\ +"A boy stole it from me, and broke it."\ +\ +"I'd like to lick him. Who was it?"\ +\ +"I think his name was Tim Rafferty."\ +\ +"I know him," said Dick. "I'll give him a lickin' next time I see him."\ +\ +"Can you?" asked Phil, doubtfully, for his enemy was as large as Dick.\ +\ +"In course I can. My fists are like sledge-hammers. Jest feel my\ +muscle."\ +\ +Dick straightened out his arm, and Phil felt of the muscle, which was\ +hard and firm.\ +\ +"It's as tough as a ten-year-old chicken," said Dick. "It won't be\ +healthy for Tim to come round my way. What made him steal your fiddle?\ +He ain't goin' into the musical line, is he?"\ +\ +"He was angry because I didn't want to lend it to him."\ +\ +Just then Tim Rafferty himself turned the corner. There was a lull in\ +his business, and he was wandering along the street eating an apple.\ +\ +"There he is," said Phil, suddenly espying his enemy.\ +\ +Dick looked up, and saw with satisfaction that Phil was right. Tim had\ +not yet espied either, nor did he till Dick addressed him.\ +\ +"Are you round collectin' fiddles this mornin'?" he asked.\ +\ +Tim looked up, and, seeing that his victim had found an able champion,\ +felt anxious to withdraw. He was about to turn back, but Dick advanced\ +with a determined air.\ +\ +"Jest stop a minute, Tim Rafferty," said he. "I'm a-goin' to intervoo\ +you for the Herald. That's what they do with all the big rascals\ +nowadays."\ +\ +"I'm in a hurry," said Tim.\ +\ +"That's what the pickpocket said when the cop was gently persuadin' him\ +to go to the Tombs, but the cop didn't see it. I want the pleasure of\ +your society a minute or two. I hear you're in the music business."\ +\ +"No, I'm not," said Tim, shortly.\ +\ +"What made you borrer this boy's fiddle, then?"\ +\ +"I don't know anything about it," said Tim, in a fright.\ +\ +"Some folks forgets easy," returned Dick. "I know a man what went into\ +Tiffany's and took up a watch to look at, and carried it off, forgettin'\ +to pay for it. That's what he told the judge the next day, and the judge\ +sent him to the island for a few months to improve his memory. The air\ +over to the island is very good to improve the memory."\ +\ +"You ought to know," said Tim, sullenly; "you've been there times\ +enough."\ +\ +"Have I?" said Dick. "Maybe you saw me there. Was it the ninth time you\ +were there, or the tenth?"\ +\ +"I never was there," said Tim.\ +\ +"Maybe it was your twin brother." suggested Dick. "What made you break\ +my friend's fiddle? He wouldn't have minded it so much, only it belonged\ +to his grandfather, a noble count, who made boots for a livin'."\ +\ +"I don't believe he had a fiddle at all," said Tim.\ +\ +"That's where your forgetfulness comes in," said Dick "Have you forgot\ +the lickin' I gave you last summer for stealin' my blackin' box?"\ +\ +"You didn't lick me," said Tim.\ +\ +"Then I'll lick you harder next time," said Dick.\ +\ +"You ain't able," said Tim, who, glancing over his shoulder, saw the\ +approach of a policeman, and felt secure.\ +\ +"I will be soon," said Dick, who also observed the approach of the\ +policeman. "I'd do it now, only I've got to buy some gold for a friend\ +of mine. Just let me know when it's perfectly convenient to take a\ +lickin'."\ +\ +Tim shuffled off, glad to get away unharmed, and Dick turned to Phil.\ +\ +"I'll give him a lickin' the first time I catch him, when there isn't a\ +cop around," he said.\ +\ +Phil left his friend at this point, for he saw by the clock on Trinity\ +spire that it was time to go back to join Paul Hoffman, as he had\ +agreed. I may here add that Phil's wrongs were avenged that same\ +evening, his friend, Dick, administered to Tim the promised "lickin'"\ +with such good effect that the latter carried a black eye for a week\ +afterwards.\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XV\ +\ +PHIL'S NEW PLANS\ +\ +As the clock struck twelve Phil reached the necktie stand of his friend,\ +Paul Hoffman.\ +\ +"Just in time," said Paul. "Are you hungry?"\ +\ +"A little."\ +\ +"That's right. You're going to dine with me; and I want you to bring a\ +good appetite with you."\ +\ +"What will your mother say?" asked Phil, doubtfully.\ +\ +"Wait and see. If you don't like what she says you can go off without\ +eating. Where have you been?"\ +\ +"I went down to Wall Street."\ +\ +"On business?" inquired Paul, with a smile.\ +\ +"No," said Phil, seriously. "I saw Lucia."\ +\ +"Who is she?"\ +\ +"I forgot. You don't know Lucia. She lived in my home in Italy, and I\ +used to play with her. She told me of my mother."\ +\ +"That's lucky, Phil. I hope your mother is well."\ +\ +"She is not sick, but she is thin. She thinks of me," said Phil.\ +\ +"Of course she does. You will go home and see her some day."\ +\ +"I hope so."\ +\ +"Of course you will," said Paul, confidently.\ +\ +"I saw the boy who stole my fiddle," continued Phil.\ +\ +"Tim Rafferty?"\ +\ +"Yes."\ +\ +"What did he say?"\ +\ +"I was with a bootblack--the one they call 'Ragged Dick.' Do you know\ +him?"\ +\ +"Yes; I know Dick. He is a bully fellow, always joking."\ +\ +"Dick wanted to lick him, but a policeman came, and he went away."\ +\ +"Does Dick know that he stole your fiddle?"\ +\ +"Yes."\ +\ +"Then he will be sure to punish him. It will save me the trouble."\ +\ +The walk was not long. Soon they were at Paul's door.\ +\ +"I have brought company to dinner, mother," said Paul, entering first.\ +\ +"I am glad to see you, Phil," said Mrs. Hoffman. "Why have you not come\ +before?"\ +\ +"How is that, Phil? Will you stay now?" said Paul.\ +\ +Mrs. Hoffman looked at Paul inquiringly.\ +\ +"Phil was afraid he would not be welcome," he exclaimed.\ +\ +"He is always welcome," said Mrs. Hoffman.\ +\ +"Where is your fiddle?" asked Jimmy.\ +\ +"A boy took it," said Phil, "and threw it into the street, and a wagon\ +went over it and broke it."\ +\ +Jimmy was quite indignant for his friend, when the story had been told.\ +\ +"It's lucky for Tim Rafferty that he is not here," said Paul, "or he\ +might suffer."\ +\ +"If I was a big boy I'd lick him," said Jimmy, belligerently.\ +\ +"I never saw you so warlike before, Jimmy," said Paul.\ +\ +To Phil this sympathy seemed pleasant. He felt that he was in the midst\ +of friends, and friends were not so plentiful as not to be valued.\ +\ +"What are you going to have for dinner, mother?" asked Paul.\ +\ +"I am sorry, Paul, that I have no warm meat. I have some cold roast\ +beef, some hot potatoes, and an apple pudding."\ +\ +"You needn't apologize, mother. That's good enough for anybody. It's as\ +good as Phil gets at his boarding house, I am sure. He has got rather\ +tired of it, and isn't going to stay."\ +\ +"Are you going to leave the padrone?" asked Mrs. Hoffman, with interest.\ +\ +"Si, signora," said Phil.\ +\ +"Will he let you go?"\ +\ +"I shall run away," said Phil.\ +\ +"You see, mother, Phil would be sure of a beating if he went home\ +without his fiddle. Now he doesn't like to be beaten, and the padrone\ +gives harder beatings than you do, mother."\ +\ +"I presume so," said Mrs. Hoffman, smiling. "I do not think I am very\ +severe."\ +\ +"No, you spoil the rod and spare the child."\ +\ +"Is Phil going to stay in the city?"\ +\ +"No; the padrone would get hold of him if he did. He is going to New\ +Jersey to make his fortune."\ +\ +"But he will need a fiddle."\ +\ +"I am going to lend him money enough to buy one. I know a pawnbroker who\ +has one for sale. I think I can get it for three or four dollars. When\ +Phil gets it he is going around giving concerts. How much can you make\ +in a day, Phil?"\ +\ +"Sometimes I make two dollars," answered Phil.\ +\ +"That is excellent, especially when you are your own padrone. You will\ +be able to save up money. You will have to buy a pocketbook, Phil."\ +\ +"Where will you sleep, Phil?" asked Jimmy, interested.\ +\ +Phil shrugged his shoulders. He had not thought of that question\ +particularly.\ +\ +"I don't know," he said. "I can sleep anywhere."\ +\ +"Of course he will stop at the first-class hotels, Jimmy," said Paul,\ +"like all men of distinction. I shouldn't wonder if he married an\ +heiress in six months, and went back to Italy on a bridal tour."\ +\ +"He is too young to be married," said Jimmy, who, it will be perceived,\ +understood everything literally.\ +\ +"I don't know but he is," said Paul, "but he isn't too old to be hungry.\ +So, mother, whenever dinner is ready we shall be."\ +\ +"It is all ready except peeling the potatoes, Paul."\ +\ +"We can do that ourselves. It is good exercise, and will sharpen our\ +appetites. You will have to eat fast or there won't be much left. Jimmy\ +is the most tremendous eater I ever saw, and won't leave much for the\ +rest of us, if we give him the chance."\ +\ +"Now, Paul," expostulated Jimmy, feeling aggrieved at this charge, "you\ +know I don't eat as much as you do."\ +\ +"Hear him talk, Phil. I don't eat more than enough to keep a fly alive."\ +\ +"It must be a pretty large fly, Paul," said Jimmy, slyly.\ +\ +"Good joke, Jimmy. Mother, you must give Jimmy twelve potatoes to-day\ +instead of the ten he usually eats."\ +\ +"Oh, Paul, how can you tell such stories?" exclaimed Jimmy, shocked at\ +such an extravagant assertion. Phil laughed, for there was something\ +ludicrous in the idea of Jimmy, who was a slight boy of seven, making\ +away with such a large quantity, and the little boy began to see that it\ +was a joke at his expense.\ +\ +The dinner went off well. All had a good appetite, and did full justice\ +to Mrs. Hoffman's cookery. The pudding in particular was pronounced a\ +success. It was so flaky and well-seasoned, and the sauce, flavored\ +with lemon, was so good, that everyone except Mrs. Hoffman took a\ +second piece. For the first time since he had left Italy, Phil felt\ +the uncomfortable sensation of having eaten too much. However, with the\ +discomfort was the pleasant recollection of a good dinner, and to the\ +mind of the little fiddler the future brightened, as it is very apt to\ +do under such circumstances, and he felt ready to go out and achieve his\ +fortune.\ +\ +"Why won't you stop with us to-night, Phil, and start on your journey\ +to-morrow?" asked Mrs. Hoffman. "I am sure Jimmy would be glad of your\ +company."\ +\ +"Yes, Phil, stay," said Paul.\ +\ +Phil hesitated. It was a tempting invitation, but, on the other hand, if\ +he remained in the city till the next day he might be in danger from the\ +padrone.\ +\ +He expressed this fear.\ +\ +"I am afraid the padrone would catch me," he said.\ +\ +"No, he won't. You can go out with me and buy the fiddle now, and then\ +come back and play to mother and Jimmy. To-morrow morning I will go with\ +you to the Jersey City Ferry myself, and if we meet the padrone, I'll\ +give him a hint to be off."\ +\ +Phil still hesitated, but finally yielded to the united request. But it\ +was now one o'clock, and Paul must be back to his business. Phil took\ +his cap and went with him to purchase the fiddle, promising to come back\ +directly.\ +\ +They went into Chatham Street, and soon halted before a small shop,\ +in front of which were three gilt balls, indicating that it was a\ +pawnbroker's shop.\ +\ +Entering, they found themselves in a small apartment, about twelve feet\ +front by twenty in depth, completely filled with pawnable articles in\ +great variety a large part, however, consisting of clothing; for when\ +the poor have occasion to raise money at a pawnbroker's, they generally\ +find little in their possession to pawn except their clothing. Here was\ +a shawls pawned for a few shillings by a poor woman whose intemperate\ +husband threw the burden of supporting two young children upon her.\ +Next to it was a black coat belonging to a clerk, who had been out of\ +employment for three months, and now was out of money also. Here was a\ +child's dress, pawned by the mother in dire necessity to save the\ +child from starving. There was a plain gold ring, snatched by a drunken\ +husband from the finger of his poor wife, not to buy food, but to\ +gratify his insatiable craving for drink.\ +\ +Over this scene of confusion presided a little old man with blear eyes\ +and wrinkled face, but with a sharp glance, fully alive to his own\ +interests. He was an Englishman born, but he had been forty years\ +in America. He will be remembered by those who have read "Paul the\ +Peddler." Though nearly as poverty-stricken in appearance as his poorest\ +customers, the old man was rich, if reports were true. His business was\ +a very profitable one, allowing the most exorbitant rates of interest,\ +and, being a miser, he spent almost nothing on himself, so that his\ +hoards had increased to a considerable amount.\ +\ +He looked up sharply, as Paul and Phil entered, and scanned them closely\ +with his ferret-like eyes.\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XVI\ +\ +THE FASHIONABLE PARTY\ +\ +Eliakim Henderson, for this was the pawnbroker's name, did not remember\ +Paul, though on one occasion our hero had called upon him. Nearly\ +all his customers came to pawn articles, not to purchase, and Eliakim\ +naturally supposed that the two boys had come on this errand. Before\ +entering, Paul said to Phil, "Don't say anything; leave me to manage."\ +\ +As they entered, Phil espied a fiddle hanging up behind the counter,\ +and he saw at a glance that it was better than the one he had been\ +accustomed to play upon. But to his surprise, Paul did not refer to it\ +at first.\ +\ +"What will you give me on this coat?" asked Paul, indicating the one he\ +had on.\ +\ +He had no intention of selling it, but preferred to come to the fiddle\ +gradually, that the pawnbroker might not think that was his main object,\ +and so charge an extra price.\ +\ +Eliakim scanned the garment critically. It was nearly new and in\ +excellent condition, and he coveted it.\ +\ +"I will give you a dollar," said he, naming a price low enough to\ +advance upon.\ +\ +"That is too little," said Paul, shaking his head.\ +\ +"I might give you fifty cents more, but I should lose if you didn't\ +redeem it."\ +\ +"I don't think you would. I paid ten dollars for it."\ +\ +"But it is old."\ +\ +"No, it isn't; I have only had it a few weeks."\ +\ +"How much do you want on it?" asked Eliakim, scanning Paul sharply, to\ +see how much he seemed in want of money.\ +\ +"I don't want any to-day. If I should want some next week, I will come\ +in."\ +\ +"It will be older next week," said Eliakim, not wanting to lose the\ +bargain, for he hoped it would not be redeemed.\ +\ +"Never mind; I can get along till then."\ +\ +"Can I do no business with you this morning?" asked Eliakim,\ +disappointed.\ +\ +"I don't know," said Paul, looking carelessly around. "My friend here\ +would like a fiddle, if he can get one cheap. What do you ask for that\ +one up there?"\ +\ +Eliakim took down the fiddle with alacrity. He had had it on hand for\ +a year without securing a customer. It had originally been pawned by a\ +poor musician, for a dollar and a quarter, but the unfortunate owner had\ +never been able to redeem it. Among his customers, the pawnbroker had\ +not found one sufficiently musical to take it off his hands. Here was a\ +slight chance, and he determined to effect a sale if he could.\ +\ +"It is a splendid instrument," he said, enthusiastically, brushing off\ +the dust with a dirty cotton handkerchief. "I have had many chances to\ +sell it."\ +\ +"Why didn't you sell it, then?" demanded Paul, who did not believe a\ +word of this.\ +\ +"Because it was only pawned. I kept it for the owner."\ +\ +"Oh, well; if you can't sell it, it doesn't matter."\ +\ +"It is for sale now," said Eliakim, quickly. "He has not come for\ +it, and I shall keep it no longer. Just try it. See what a sp-l-endid\ +instrument it is!" said the pawnbroker, dwelling on the adjective to\ +give emphasis to it.\ +\ +Paul tried it, but not knowing how to play, of course created only\ +discord. He did not offer it to Phil, because the young Italian boy\ +would have made it sound too well and so enhanced the price.\ +\ +"It don't sound very well," said he, indifferently; "but I suppose it\ +will do to learn on. What do you want for it?"\ +\ +"Five dollars," said Eliakim, studying the face of Paul, to observe the\ +effect of his announcement.\ +\ +"Five dollars," repeated Paul. "Take it back, then, and wait till A. T.\ +Stewart wants one. I haven't got five dollars to throw away."\ +\ +But the pawnbroker did not expect to get his first price. He named it,\ +in order to have a chance to fall.\ +\ +"Stay," he said, as Paul made a motion to leave; "what will you give me\ +for it?"\ +\ +"I'll give you a dollar and a half," said Paul, turning back.\ +\ +"A dollar and a half!" exclaimed Eliakim, holding up both hands in\ +horror. "Do you want to ruin me?"\ +\ +"No, I think you want to ruin me. I am willing to pay a fair price."\ +\ +"You may have it for three dollars and a half."\ +\ +"No doubt you'd be glad to get that. Come, Phil, we'll go."\ +\ +"Stay; you may have it for three dollars, though I shall lose by it."\ +\ +"So should I, if I paid you that price. I can wait till some other\ +time."\ +\ +But Eliakim did not intend to let this chance slip. He had found the\ +fiddle rather unsalable, and feared if he lost his chance of disposing\ +of it, it might remain on his hands for a year more. He was willing,\ +therefore, to take less than the profit he usually calculated upon in\ +the sale of articles which remained unredeemed.\ +\ +"You may have it for two dollars and a half," he said.\ +\ +As far as Paul could judge, though he did not know much about the price\ +of violins, this was a reasonable price. But he knew that Eliakim must\ +have got it for considerably less, or he would not so soon have come\ +down to this sum. He did not hesitate, therefore, to try to get it a\ +little cheaper.\ +\ +"I'll give you two dollars and a quarter," he said, "and not a penny\ +more."\ +\ +Eliakim tried hard to get ten cents more, but Paul saw that he was sure\ +of his purchase, and remained obdurate. So, after a pretense of putting\ +up the fiddle, the pawnbroker finally said, "You may have it, but I tell\ +you that I shall lose money."\ +\ +"All right," said Paul; "hand it over."\ +\ +"Where is the money?" asked Eliakim, cautiously.\ +\ +Paul drew from his pocket a two-dollar bill and twenty-five cents in\ +currency, and received the fiddle. The pawnbroker scrutinized the money\ +closely, fearing that it might be bad; but finally, making up his mind\ +on that point, deposited it in his money drawer.\ +\ +"Well, Phil, we may as well go," said Paul. "We've got through our\ +business."\ +\ +The pawnbroker heard this, and a sudden suspicion entered his mind that\ +Paul had been too sharp for him.\ +\ +"I might have got twenty-five cents more," he thought regretfully; and\ +this thought disturbed the complacency he felt at first.\ +\ +"Well, Phil, how do you like it?" asked Paul, as they emerged into the\ +street.\ +\ +"Let me try it," said Phil, eagerly.\ +\ +He struck up a tune, which he played through, his face expressing the\ +satisfaction he felt.\ +\ +"Is it as good as your old one?"\ +\ +"It is much better," said Phil. "I will pay you for it;" and he drew out\ +the money the sailors had given him in the morning.\ +\ +"No, Phil," said his friend, "you may need that money. Keep it, and pay\ +me when you have more."\ +\ +"But I shall be away."\ +\ +"You will come to the city some day. When you do you will know where to\ +find me. Now go and play a tune to Jimmy. He is waiting for you. If you\ +remain in the streets, your old enemy, Tim Rafferty, may want to borrow\ +your fiddle again."\ +\ +"You are very kind to me, Paolo," said Phil, raising his dark eyes with\ +a sudden impulse of gratitude.\ +\ +"It's nothing, Phil," said Paul, modestly; "you would do the same for me\ +if I needed it."\ +\ +"Yes, I would," said Phil; "but I am poor, and I cannot help you."\ +\ +"You won't be poor always, Phil," said Paul, cheerfully, "nor I either,\ +I hope. I mean to be a merchant some time on a bigger scale than now. As\ +for you, you will be a great player, and give concerts at the Academy of\ +Music."\ +\ +Phil laughed, but still seemed pleased at the prophecy.\ +\ +"Well, Phil, I must bid you good-by for a little while, or my clerks\ +will be cheating me. I will see you at supper."\ +\ +"Addio, Paolo," said Phil.\ +\ +"Addio," said Paul, laughing. "Wouldn't I make a good Italian?"\ +\ +Paul returned to his stand, and Phil took the direction of Mrs.\ +Hoffman's rooms. While on his way he heard the sound of a hand-organ,\ +and, looking across the way, saw, with some uneasiness, his old enemy\ +Pietro, playing to a crowd of boys.\ +\ +"I hope he won't see me," said Phil to himself.\ +\ +He was afraid Pietro would remember his old violin, and, seeing the\ +difference in the instrument he now had, inquire how he got it. He\ +might, if not satisfied on this point, take Phil home with him, which\ +would be fatal to his plans. He thought it prudent, therefore, to\ +turn down the next street, and get out of sight as soon as possible.\ +Fortunately for him Pietro had his back turned, so that he did not\ +observe him. Nothing would have pleased him better than to get the\ +little fiddler into trouble, for, besides being naturally malicious, he\ +felt that an exhibition of zeal in his master's service would entitle\ +him to additional favors at the hands of the padrone, whom he hoped some\ +day to succeed.\ +\ +"Oh, what a beautiful fiddle!" said Jimmy, in admiration, as Phil\ +reappeared. "Do you think I could play on it?"\ +\ +Phil shook his head, smiling.\ +\ +"Don't let Jimmy have it. He would only spoil it," said Mrs. Hoffman. "I\ +don't think he would succeed as well in music as in drawing."\ +\ +"Will you play something?" asked Jimmy.\ +\ +Phil willingly complied, and for half an hour held Jimmy entranced with\ +his playing. The little boy then undertook to teach Phil how to draw,\ +but at this Phil probably cut as poor a figure as his instructor would\ +have done at playing on the violin.\ +\ +So the afternoon wore away, happily for all three, and at five Paul\ +made his appearance. When supper was over Phil played again, and this\ +attracting the attention of the neighbors, Mrs. Hoffman's rooms were\ +gradually filled with visitors, who finally requested Phil to play some\ +dancing tunes. Finding him able to do so, an impromptu dance was got\ +up, and Mrs. Hoffman, considerably to her surprise, found that she was\ +giving a dancing-party. Paul, that nothing might be left out, took a\ +companion with him and they soon reappeared with cake and ice cream,\ +which were passed around amid great hilarity; and it was not until\ +midnight that the last visitor went out, and the sound of music and\ +laughter was hushed.\ +\ +"You are getting fashionable in your old age, mother," said Paul, gayly.\ +"I think I shall send an account of your party to the Home Journal."\ +\ +"I believe it is usual to describe the dresses of the ladies," said Mrs.\ +Hoffman, smiling.\ +\ +"Oh, yes, I won't forget that. Just give me a piece of paper and see how\ +I will do it."\ +\ +Paul, whose education, I repeat here, was considerably above that of\ +most boys in his position, sat down and hastily wrote the following\ +description, which was read to the great amusement of his auditors:\ +\ +"Mrs. Hoffman, mother of the well-known artist, Jimmy Hoffman, Esq.,\ +gave a fashionable party last evening. Her spacious and elegant\ +apartments were crowded with finely dressed gentlemen and ladies from\ +the lower part of the city. Signor Filippo, the great Italian musician,\ +furnished the music. Mrs. Hoffman appeared in a costly calico dress, and\ +had a valuable gold ring on one of her fingers. Her son, the artist,\ +was richly dressed in a gray suit, purchased a year since. Miss Bridget\ +Flaherty, of Mott Street, was the belle of the occasion, and danced with\ +such grace and energy that the floor came near giving away beneath her\ +fairy tread. [Miss Flaherty, by the way, weighed one hundred and eighty\ +pounds.] Mr. Mike Donovan, newspaper merchant, handed round refreshments\ +with his usual graceful and elegant deportment. Miss Matilda Wiggins\ +appeared in a magnificent print dress, imported from Paris by A. T.\ +Stewart, and costing a shilling a yard. No gloves were worn, as they\ +are now dispensed with in the best society. At a late hour the guests\ +dispersed. Mrs. Hoffman's party will long be remembered as the most\ +brilliant of the season."\ +\ +"I did not know you had so much talent for reporting, Paul," said his\ +mother. "You forgot one thing, however."\ +\ +"What is that?"\ +\ +"You said nothing of yourself."\ +\ +"I was too modest, mother. However, if you insist upon it, I will do so.\ +Anything at all to please you."\ +\ +Paul resumed his writing and in a short time had the following:\ +\ +"Among those present we observed the handsome and accomplished Paul\ +Hoffman, Esq., the oldest son of the hostess. He was elegantly dressed\ +in a pepper-and-salt coat and vest, blue necktie, and brown breeches,\ +and wore a six-cent diamond breastpin in the bosom of his shirt. His\ +fifteen-cent handkerchief was perfumed with cologne which he imported\ +himself at a cost of ten cents per bottle. He attracted general\ +admiration."\ +\ +"You seem to have got over your modesty, Paul," said his mother.\ +\ +"I am sleepy," said Jimmy, drowsily rubbing his eyes.\ +\ +As this expressed the general feeling, they retired to bed at once, and\ +in half an hour were wandering in the land of dreams.\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XVII\ +\ +THE PADRONE IS ANXIOUS\ +\ +The next morning Paul and Phil rose later that usual. They slept longer,\ +in order to make up for the late hour at which they retired. As they sat\ +down to breakfast, at half-past eight, Paul said: "I wonder whether the\ +padrone misses you, Phil?"\ +\ +"Yes," said Phil; "he will be very angry because I did not come back\ +last night."\ +\ +"Will he think you have run away?"\ +\ +"I do not know. Some of the boys stay away sometimes, because they are\ +too far off to come home."\ +\ +"Then he may expect you to-night. I suppose he will have a beating ready\ +for you."\ +\ +"Yes, he would beat me very hard," said Phil, "if he thought I did not\ +mean to come back."\ +\ +"I should like to go and tell him that he need not expect you. I should\ +like to see how he looks."\ +\ +"He might beat you, too, Paolo."\ +\ +"I should like to see him try it," said Paul, straightening up with a\ +consciousness of strength. "He might find that rather hard."\ +\ +Phil looked admiringly at the boy who was not afraid of the padrone.\ +Like his comrades, he had been accustomed to think of the padrone as\ +possessed of unlimited power, and never dreamed of anybody defying him,\ +or resisting his threats. Though he had determined to run away, his soul\ +was not free from the tyranny of his late taskmaster, and he thought\ +with uneasiness and dread of the possibility of his being conveyed back\ +to him.\ +\ +"Well, mother," said Paul, glancing at the clock as he rose from the\ +breakfast table, "it is almost nine o'clock--rather a late hour for a\ +business man like me."\ +\ +"You are not often so late, Paul."\ +\ +"It is lucky that I am my own employer, or I might run the risk of\ +being discharged. I am afraid the excuse that I was at Mrs. Hoffman's\ +fashionable party would not be thought sufficient. I guess I won't have\ +time to stop to shave this morning."\ +\ +"You haven't got anything to shave," said Jimmy.\ +\ +"Don't be envious, Jimmy. I counted several hairs this morning. Well,\ +Phil, are you ready to go with me? Don't forget your fiddle."\ +\ +"When shall we see you again, Philip?" said Mrs. Hoffman.\ +\ +"I do not know," said the little minstrel.\ +\ +"Shall you not come to the city sometimes?"\ +\ +"I am afraid the padrone would catch me," said Phil.\ +\ +"Whenever you do come, Phil," said Paul, "come right to me. I will take\ +care of you. I don't think the padrone will carry us both off, and he\ +would have to take me if he took you."\ +\ +"Good-by, Philip," said Mrs. Hoffman, offering her hand. "I hope you\ +will prosper."\ +\ +"So do I, Phil," said Jimmy.\ +\ +Phil thus took with him the farewells and good wishes of two friends\ +who had been drawn to him by his attractive face and good qualities. He\ +could not help wishing that he might stay with them permanently, but he\ +knew that this could not be. To remain in the same city with the padrone\ +was out of the question.\ +\ +Meanwhile we return to the house which Phil had forsaken, and inquire\ +what effect was produced by his non-appearance.\ +\ +It was the rule of the establishment that all the boys should be back\ +by midnight. Phil had generally returned an hour before that time. When,\ +therefore, it was near midnight, the padrone looked uneasily at the\ +clock.\ +\ +"Have you seen Filippo?" he asked, addressing his nephew.\ +\ +"No, signore," answered Pietro. "Filippo has not come in."\ +\ +"Do you think he has run away?" asked the padrone, suspiciously.\ +\ +"I don't know," said Pietro.\ +\ +"Have you any reason to think he intended to run away?"\ +\ +"No," said Pietro.\ +\ +"I should not like to lose him. He brings me more money than most of the\ +boys."\ +\ +"He may come in yet."\ +\ +"When he does," said the padrone, frowning, "I will beat him for being\ +so late. Is there any boy that he would be likely to tell, if he meant\ +to run away?"\ +\ +"Yes," said Pietro, with a sudden thought, "there is Giacomo."\ +\ +"The sick boy?"\ +\ +"Yes. Filippo went in this morning to speak to him. He might have told\ +him then."\ +\ +"That is true. I will go and ask him."\ +\ +Giacomo still lay upon his hard pallet, receiving very little attention.\ +His fever had increased, and he was quite sick. He rolled from one side\ +to the other in his restlessness. He needed medical attention, but the\ +padrone was indifferent, and none of the boys would have dared to call\ +a doctor without his permission. As he lay upon his bed, the padrone\ +entered the room with a hurried step.\ +\ +"Where is Giacomo?" he demanded, harshly.\ +\ +"Here I am, signore padrone," answered the little boy, trembling, as he\ +always did when addressed by the tyrant.\ +\ +"Did Filippo come and speak with you this morning, before he went out?"\ +\ +"Si, signore."\ +\ +"What did he say?"\ +\ +"He asked me how I felt."\ +\ +"What did you tell him?"\ +\ +"I told him I felt sick."\ +\ +"Nothing more?"\ +\ +"I told him I thought I should die.'\ +\ +"Nonsense!" said the padrone, harshly; "you are a coward. You have a\ +little cold, that is all. Did he say anything about running away?"\ +\ +"No, signore."\ +\ +"Don't tell me a lie!" said the tyrant, frowning.\ +\ +"I tell you the truth, signore padrone. Has not Filippo come home?"\ +\ +"No."\ +\ +"I do not think he has run away," said the little boy.\ +\ +"Why not?"\ +\ +"I think he would tell me."\ +\ +"So you two are friends, are you?"\ +\ +"Si, signore; I love Filippo," answered Giacomo, speaking the last words\ +tenderly, and rather to himself than to the padrone. He looked up to\ +Phil, though little older than himself, with a mixture of respect\ +and devotion, leaning upon him as the weak are prone to lean upon the\ +strong.\ +\ +"Then you will be glad to hear," said the padrone, with a refinement of\ +cruelty, "that I shall beat him worse than last night for staying out so\ +late."\ +\ +"Don't beat him, padrone," pleaded Giacomo, bursting into tears.\ +"Perhaps he cannot come home."\ +\ +"Did he ever speak to you of running away?" asked the padrone, with a\ +sudden thought.\ +\ +Giacomo hesitated. He could not truthfully deny that Filippo had done\ +so, but he did not want to get his friend into trouble. He remained\ +silent, looking up at the tyrant with troubled eyes.\ +\ +"Why do you not speak? Did you hear my question?" asked the padrone,\ +with a threatening gesture.\ +\ +Had the question been asked of some of the other boys present, they\ +would not have scrupled to answer falsely; but Giacomo had a religious\ +nature, and, neglected as he had been, he could not make up his mind to\ +tell a falsehood. So, after a pause, he faltered out a confession that\ +Phil had spoken of flight.\ +\ +"Do you hear that, Pietro?" said the padrone, turning to his nephew.\ +"The little wretch has doubtless run away."\ +\ +"Shall I look for him to-morrow?" asked Pietro, with alacrity, for to\ +him it would be a congenial task to drag Phil home, and witness the\ +punishment.\ +\ +"Yes, Pietro. I will tell you where to go in the morning. We must have\ +him back, and I will beat him so that he will not dare to run away\ +again."\ +\ +The padrone would have been still more incensed could he have looked\ +into Mrs. Hoffman's room and seen the little fiddler the center of a\ +merry group, his brown face radiant with smiles as he swept the chords\ +of his violin. It was well for Phil that he could not see him.\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XVIII\ +\ +PHIL ELUDES HIS PURSUER\ +\ +Phil had already made up his mind where to go. Just across the river was\ +New Jersey, with its flourishing towns and cities, settled to a large\ +extent by men doing business in New York. The largest of these cities\ +was Newark, only ten miles distant. There Phil decided to make his\ +first stop. If he found himself in danger of capture he could easily\ +go farther. This plan Paul approved, and it was to be carried into\ +execution immediately.\ +\ +"I will go down to the Cortlandt Street Ferry with you, Phil," said\ +Paul.\ +\ +"I should like to have you, if it will not take you from your business,\ +Paolo."\ +\ +"My business can wait," said Paul. "I mean to see you safe out of the\ +city. The padrone may be in search of you already."\ +\ +"I think he will send Pietro to find me," said Phil.\ +\ +"Who is Pietro?"\ +\ +Phil explained that Pietro was the padrone's nephew and assisted in\ +oppressing the boys.\ +\ +"I hope he will send him," said Paul.\ +\ +Phil looked up in surprise.\ +\ +"I should like to see this Pietro. What would he do if he should find\ +you?"\ +\ +"He would take me back."\ +\ +"If you did not want to go?"\ +\ +"I couldn't help it," said Phil, shrugging his shoulders. "He is much\ +bigger than I."\ +\ +"Is he bigger than I am?"\ +\ +"I think he is as big."\ +\ +"He isn't big enough to take you away if I am with you."\ +\ +Paul did not say this boastfully, but with a quiet confidence in his own\ +powers in which he was justified. Though by no means quarrelsome, he\ +had on several occasions been forced in self-defense into a contest with\ +boys of his own size, and in some instances larger, and in every case he\ +had acquitted himself manfully, and come off victorious.\ +\ +"I should not be afraid if you were with me, Paolo," said Phil.\ +\ +"You are right, Phil," said Paul, approvingly. "But here we are at the\ +ferry."\ +\ +Cortlandt Street is a short distance below the Astor House, and leads\ +to the ferry, connecting on the other side with trains bound for\ +Philadelphia and intermediate places.\ +\ +Paul paid the regular toll, and passed through the portal with Phil.\ +\ +"Are you going with me?" asked the little fiddler, in surprise.\ +\ +"Only to Jersey City, Phil. There might be some of your friends on board\ +the boat. I want to see you safe on the cars. Then I must leave you."\ +\ +"You are very kind, Paolo."\ +\ +"You are a good little chap, Phil, and I mean to help you. But the boat\ +is about ready to start. Let us go on board."\ +\ +They walked down the pier, and got on the boat a minute before it\ +started. They did not pass through to the other end, but, leaning\ +against the side, kept their eyes fixed on the city they were about to\ +leave. They had not long to wait. The signal was heard, and the boat\ +started leisurely from the pier. It was but ten feet distant, when the\ +attention of Paul and Phil was drawn to a person running down the drop\ +in great haste. He evidently wanted to catch the boat, but was too late.\ +\ +Phil clutched at Paul's arm, and pointed to him in evident excitement.\ +\ +"It is Pietro," he said.\ +\ +At that moment Pietro, standing on the brink, caught sight of the boy\ +he was pursuing, looking back at him from the deck of the ferry-boat.\ +A look of exultation and disappointment swept over his face as he saw\ +Phil, but realized that he was out of his reach. He had a hand-organ\ +with him, and this had doubtless encumbered him, and prevented his\ +running as fast as he might otherwise.\ +\ +"So that is Pietro, is it?" said Paul, regarding him attentively in\ +order to fix his face in his memory.\ +\ +"Yes, Paolo," said Phil, his eyes fixed nervously upon his pursuer, who\ +maintained his place, and was watching him with equal attention.\ +\ +"You are not frightened, Phil, are you?"\ +\ +Phil admitted that he was.\ +\ +"He will come over in the next boat," he said.\ +\ +"But he will not know where you are."\ +\ +"He will seek me."\ +\ +"Will he? Then I think he will be disappointed. The cars will start\ +on the other side before the next boat arrives. I found out about that\ +before we started."\ +\ +Phil felt relieved by this intelligence, but still he was nervous.\ +Knowing well Pietro's malice, he dreaded the chances of his capturing\ +him.\ +\ +"He stays there. He does not go away," said Phil.\ +\ +"It will do him no good, Phil. He is like a cat watching a canary bird\ +beyond his reach. I don't think he will catch you to-day."\ +\ +"He may go in the cars, too," suggested Phil.\ +\ +"That is true. On the whole, Phil, when you get to Newark, I advise\ +you to walk into the country. Don't stay in the city. He might find you\ +there."\ +\ +"I will do what you say, Paolo. It will be better."\ +\ +They soon reached the Jersey shore. The railroad station was close by.\ +They went thither at once, and Phil bought a ticket for Newark.\ +\ +"How soon will the cars start?" inquired Paul of a railway official.\ +\ +"In five minutes," was the answer.\ +\ +"Then, Phil, I advise you to get into the cars at once. Take a seat\ +on the opposite side, though there is no chance of your being seen by\ +Pietro, who will get here too late. Still, it is best to be on the safe\ +side. I will stay near the ferry and watch Pietro when he lands. Perhaps\ +I will have a little conversation with him."\ +\ +"I will go, Paolo."\ +\ +"Well, good-by, Phil, and good luck," said Paul, cheerfully. "If you\ +ever come to New York, come to see me."\ +\ +"Yes, Paolo, I will be sure to come."\ +\ +"And, Phil, though I don't think you will ever fall into the power\ +of that old brute again (I am sure you won't if you take good care of\ +yourself), still, if he does get you back again, come to me the first\ +chance you get, and I will see what I can do for you."\ +\ +"Thank you, Paolo. I will remember your kindness always," said the\ +little fiddler, gratefully.\ +\ +"That is all right, Phil. Good-by!"\ +\ +"Good-by!" said Phil, and, shaking the hand of his new friend, he\ +ascended the steps, and took a seat on the opposite side, as Paul had\ +recommended.\ +\ +"I am sorry to part with Phil," said Paul to himself. "He's a fine\ +little chap, and I like him. If ever that old brute gets hold of him\ +again, he shan't keep him long. Now, Signor Pietro, I'll go back and see\ +you on your arrival."\ +\ +Phil was right in supposing that Pietro would take passage on the next\ +boat. He waited impatiently on the drop till it touched, and sprang on\ +board. He cursed the interval of delay, fearing that it would give Phil\ +a chance to get away. However, there was no help for this. Time and tide\ +wait for no man, but it often happens that we are compelled to wait for\ +them. But at length the boat touched the Jersey shore, and Pietro\ +sprang out and hurried to the gates, looking eagerly on all sides for a\ +possible glimpse of the boy he sought. He did not see him, for the cars\ +were already on their way, but his eyes lighted up with satisfaction as\ +they lighted on Paul, whom he recognized as the companion of Phil. He\ +had seen him talking to the little fiddler. Probably he would know where\ +he had gone. He walked up to Paul, who was standing near, and, touching\ +his cap, said: "Excuse me, signore, but have you seen my little\ +brother?"\ +\ +"Your little brother?" repeated Paul, deliberately.\ +\ +"Si, signore, a little boy with a fiddle. He was so high;" and Pietro\ +indicated the height of Phil correctly by his hand.\ +\ +"There was a boy came over in the boat with me," said Paul.\ +\ +"Yes, yes; he is the one, signore," said Pietro, eagerly.\ +\ +"And he is your brother?"\ +\ +"Si, signore."\ +\ +"That's a lie," thought Paul, "I should know it even if Phil had\ +not told me. Phil is a handsome little chap. He wouldn't have such a\ +villainous-looking brother as you."\ +\ +"Can you tell me where he has gone?" asked Pietro, eagerly.\ +\ +"Didn't he tell you where he was going?" asked Paul, in turn.\ +\ +"I think he means to run away," said Pietro. "Did you see where he\ +went?"\ +\ +"Why should he want to run away?" asked Paul, who enjoyed tantalizing\ +Pietro, who he saw was chafing with impatience. "Did you not treat him\ +well?"\ +\ +"He is a little rascal," said Pietro. "He is treated well, but he is a\ +thief."\ +\ +"And you are his brother," repeated Paul, significantly.\ +\ +"Did you see where he went?" asked Pietro, getting angry. "I want to\ +take him back to his father."\ +\ +"How should I know?" returned Paul, coolly. "Do you think I have nothing\ +to do but to look after your brother?"\ +\ +"Why didn't you tell me that before?" said Pietro, incensed.\ +\ +"Don't get mad," said Paul, indifferently; "it won't do you any good.\ +Perhaps, if you look round, you will see your brother. I'll tell him you\ +want him if I see him."\ +\ +Pietro looked at Paul suspiciously. It struck him that the latter might\ +be making a fool of him, but Paul looked so utterly indifferent that\ +he could judge nothing from his appearance. He concluded that Phil was\ +wandering about somewhere in Jersey City.\ +\ +It did not occur to him that he might have taken the cars for some\ +more distant place. At any rate, there seemed no chance of getting any\ +information out of Paul. So he adjusted his hand-organ and walked up the\ +street leading from the ferry, looking sharply on either side, hoping to\ +catch a glimpse of the runaway; but, of course, in vain.\ +\ +"I don't think you'll find Phil to-day, Signor Pietro," said Paul to\ +himself, as he watched his receding form. "Now, as there is nothing more\ +to be done here, I will go back to business."\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XIX\ +\ +PIETRO'S PURSUIT\ +\ +The distance from New York to Newark is but ten miles. Phil had been\ +there once before with an older boy. He was at no loss, therefore, as to\ +the proper place to get out. He stepped from the cars and found himself\ +in a large depot. He went out of a side door, and began to wander about\ +the streets of Newark. Now, for the first time, he felt that he was\ +working for himself, and the feeling was an agreeable one. True, he did\ +not yet feel wholly secure. Pietro might possibly follow in the next\ +train. He inquired at the station when the next train would arrive.\ +\ +"In an hour," was the reply.\ +\ +It would be an hour, therefore, before Pietro could reach Newark.\ +\ +He decided to walk on without stopping till he reached the outskirts\ +of the city, and not venture back till nightfall, when there would be\ +little or no danger.\ +\ +Accordingly he plodded on for an hour and a half, till he came where the\ +houses were few and scattered at intervals. In a business point of view\ +this was not good policy, but safety was to be consulted first of all.\ +He halted at length before a grocery store, in front of which he saw a\ +small group of men standing. His music was listened to with attention,\ +but when he came to pass his cap round afterward the result was small.\ +In fact, to be precise, the collection amounted to but eight cents.\ +\ +"How's business, boy?" asked a young man who stood at the door in his\ +shirt-sleeves, and was evidently employed in the grocery.\ +\ +"That is all I have taken," said Phil, showing the eight cents.\ +\ +"Did you come from New York this morning?"\ +\ +"Yes."\ +\ +"Then you haven't got enough to pay for your ticket yet?"\ +\ +Phil shrugged his shoulders.\ +\ +"I don't believe you'll make your fortune out here."\ +\ +Phil was of precisely the same opinion, but kept silent.\ +\ +"You would have done better to stay in New York."\ +\ +To this also Phil mentally assented, but there were imperative reasons,\ +as we know, for leaving the great city.\ +\ +It was already half-past twelve, and Phil began, after his walk, to\ +feel the cravings of appetite. He accordingly went into the grocery and\ +bought some crackers and cheese, which he sat down by the stove and ate.\ +\ +"Are you going farther?" asked the same young man who had questioned him\ +before.\ +\ +"I shall go back to Newark to-night," said Phil.\ +\ +"Let me try your violin."\ +\ +"Can you play?" asked Phil, doubtfully, for he feared that an\ +unpracticed player might injure the instrument.\ +\ +"Yes, I can play. I've got a fiddle at home myself."\ +\ +Our hero surrendered his fiddle to the young man, who played passably.\ +\ +"You've got a pretty good fiddle," he said. "I think it's better than\ +mine. Can you play any dancing tunes?"\ +\ +Phil knew one or two, and played them.\ +\ +"If you were not going back to Newark, I should like to have you play\ +with me this evening. I don't have anybody to practice with."\ +\ +"I would not know where to sleep," said Phil, hesitatingly.\ +\ +"Oh, we've got beds enough in our house. Will you stay?"\ +\ +Phil reflected that he had no place to sleep in Newark except such as he\ +might hire, and decided to accept the offer of his new friend.\ +\ +"This is my night off from the store," he said. "I haven't got to come\ +back after supper. Just stay around here till six o'clock. Then I'll\ +take you home and give you some supper, and then we'll play this\ +evening."\ +\ +Phil had no objection to this arrangement. In fact, it promised to be an\ +agreeable one for him. As he was sure of a supper, a bed and breakfast,\ +there was no particular necessity for him to earn anything more\ +that day. However, he went out for an hour or two, and succeeded in\ +collecting twenty-five cents. He realized, however, that it was not so\ +easy to pick up pennies in the country as in the city--partly because\ +population is sparser and partly because, though there is less privation\ +in the country, there is also less money.\ +\ +A little before six Phil's new friend, whose name he ascertained was\ +Edwin Grover, washed his hands, and, putting on his coat, said "Come\ +along, Phil."\ +\ +Phil, who had been sitting near the stove, prepared to accompany him.\ +\ +"We haven't got far to go," said Edwin, who was eighteen. "I am glad of\ +that, for the sooner I get to the supper table the better."\ +\ +After five minutes' walk they stopped at a comfortable two-story house\ +near the roadside.\ +\ +"That's where I put up," said Edwin.\ +\ +He opened the door and entered, followed by Phil, who felt a little\ +bashful, knowing that he was not expected.\ +\ +"Have you got an extra plate, mother?" asked Edwin. "This is a professor\ +of the violin, who is going to help me make some music this evening."\ +\ +"He is welcome," said Mrs. Grover, cheerfully, "We can make room for\ +him. He is an Italian, I suppose. What is your name?"\ +\ +"Filippo."\ +\ +"I will call you Philip. I suppose that is the English name. Will you\ +lay down your violin and draw up to the fire?"\ +\ +"I am not cold," said Phil.\ +\ +"He is not cold, he is hungry, as Ollendorf says," said Edwin, who had\ +written a few French exercises according to Ollendorf's system. "Is\ +supper almost ready?"\ +\ +"It will be ready at once. There is your father coming in at the front\ +gate, and Henry with him."\ +\ +Mr. Grover entered, and Phil made the acquaintance of the rest of the\ +family. He soon came to feel that he was a welcome guest, and shared\ +in the family supper, which was well cooked and palatable. Then Edwin\ +brought out his fiddle, and the two played various tunes. Phil caught\ +one or two new dancing tunes from his new friend, and in return taught\ +him an Italian air. Three or four people from a neighboring family\ +came in, and a little impromptu dance was got up. So the evening passed\ +pleasantly, and at half-past ten they went to bed, Phil sleeping in a\ +little room adjoining that in which the brothers Edwin and Harry slept.\ +\ +After breakfast the next morning Phil left the house, with a cordial\ +invitation to call again when he happened to be passing.\ +\ +Before proceeding with his adventures, we must go back to Pietro.\ +\ +He, as we know, failed to elicit any information from Paul likely\ +to guide him in his pursuit of Phil. He was disappointed. Still,\ +he reflected that Phil had but a quarter of an hour's start of\ +him--scarcely that, indeed--and if he stopped to play anywhere, he would\ +doubtless easily find him. There was danger, of course, that he would\ +turn off somewhere, and Pietro judged it best to inquire whether such a\ +boy had passed.\ +\ +Seeing two boys playing in the street, he inquired: "Have you seen\ +anything of my little brother?"\ +\ +"What does he look like?" inquired one.\ +\ +"He is not quite so large as you. He had a fiddle with him."\ +\ +"No, I haven't seen him. Have you, Dick?"\ +\ +"Yes," said the other, "there was a boy went along with a fiddle."\ +\ +This was true, but, as we know, it was not Phil.\ +\ +"Did you see where he went?" demanded Pietro, eagerly.\ +\ +"Straight ahead," was the reply.\ +\ +Lured by the delusive hope these words awakened, Pietro went on. He did\ +not stop to play on his organ. He was too intent on finding Phil. At\ +length, at a little distance before him, he saw a figure about the size\ +of Phil, playing on the violin. He hurried forward elated, but when\ +within a few yards he discovered to his disappointment that it was not\ +Phil, but a little fiddler of about his size. He was in the employ of a\ +different padrone. He was doubtless the one the boy had seen.\ +\ +Disappointed, Pietro now turned back, and bent his steps to the ferry.\ +But he saw nothing of Phil on the way.\ +\ +"I would like to beat him, the little wretch!" he said to himself,\ +angrily. "If I had not been too late for the boat, I would have easily\ +caught him."\ +\ +It never occurred to Pietro that Phil might have taken the cars for a\ +more distant point, as he actually did. The only thing he could think\ +of, for he was not willing to give up the pursuit, was to go back. He\ +remained in Jersey City all day, wandering about the streets, peering\ +here and there; but he did not find Phil, for a very good reason.\ +\ +The padrone awaited his report at night with some impatience. Phil was\ +one of the smartest boys he had, and he had no mind to lose him.\ +\ +"Did you find him, Pietro?" he asked as soon as his nephew entered his\ +presence.\ +\ +"I saw him," said Pietro.\ +\ +"Then why did you not bring him back?"\ +\ +Pietro explained the reason. His uncle listened attentively.\ +\ +"Pietro, you are a fool," he said, at length.\ +\ +"Why am I a fool?" asked Pietro, sullenly.\ +\ +"Because you sought Filippo where he is not."\ +\ +"Where is he?"\ +\ +"He did not stop in Jersey City. He went farther. He knew that you were\ +on his track. Did you ask at the station if such a boy bought a ticket?"\ +\ +"I did not think of it."\ +\ +"Then you were a fool."\ +\ +"What do you want me to do?"\ +\ +"To-morrow you must go to Newark. That is the first large town. I must\ +have Filippo back."\ +\ +"I will go," said Pietro, briefly.\ +\ +He was mortified at the name applied to him by his uncle, as well as by\ +the fact of Phil's having thus far outwitted him. He secretly determined\ +that when he did get him into his power he would revenge himself for all\ +the trouble to which he had been put, and there was little doubt that he\ +would keep his word.\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XX\ +\ +PIETRO'S DISAPPOINTMENT\ +\ +Though Phil had not taken in much money during the first day of\ +independence, he had more than paid his expenses. He started on the\ +second day with a good breakfast, and good spirits. He determined to\ +walk back to Newark, where he might expect to collect more money than in\ +the suburbs. If he should meet Pietro he determined not to yield without\ +a struggle. But he felt better now than at first, and less afraid of the\ +padrone.\ +\ +Nine o'clock found him again in Newark. He soon came to a halt, and\ +began to play. A few paused to listen, but their interest in music did\ +not extend so far as to affect their pockets. Phil passed around his hat\ +in vain. He found himself likely to go unrewarded for his labors. But\ +just then he noticed a carriage with open door, waiting in front of\ +a fashionable dry-goods store. Two ladies had just come out and taken\ +their seats preparatory to driving off, when Phil stepped up bareheaded\ +and held his cap. He was an unusually attractive boy, and as he smiled\ +one of the ladies, who was particularly fond of children, noticed him.\ +\ +"What a handsome boy!" she said to her companion.\ +\ +"Some pennies for music," said Phil.\ +\ +"How old are you?" asked the lady.\ +\ +"Twelve years."\ +\ +"Just the age of my Johnny. If I give you some money what will you do\ +with it?"\ +\ +"I will buy dinner," said Phil.\ +\ +"I never give to vagrants," said the second lady, a spinster of\ +uncertain age, who did not share her niece's partiality for children.\ +\ +"It isn't his fault if he is a vagrant, Aunt Maria," said the younger\ +lady.\ +\ +"I have no doubt he is a thief," continued Aunt Maria, with acerbity.\ +\ +"I am not a thief," said Phil, indignantly, for he understood very well\ +the imputation, and he replaced his cap on his head.\ +\ +"I don't believe you are," said the first lady; "here, take this," and\ +she put in his hand twenty-five cents.\ +\ +"Thank you, signora," said Phil, with a grateful smile.\ +\ +"That money is thrown away," said the elderly lady; "you are very\ +indiscriminate in your charity, Eleanor."\ +\ +"It is better to give too much than too little, Aunt Maria, isn't it?"\ +\ +"You shouldn't give to unworthy objects."\ +\ +"How do you know this boy is an unworthy object?"\ +\ +"He is a young vagrant."\ +\ +"Can he help it? It is the way he makes his living."\ +\ +The discussion continued, but Phil did not stop to hear it. He had\ +received more than he expected, and now felt ready to continue his\ +business. One thing was fortunate, and relieved him from the anxiety\ +which he had formerly labored under. He was not obliged to obtain a\ +certain sum in order to escape a beating at night. He had no master\ +to account to. He was his own employer, as long as he kept out of the\ +clutches of the padrone.\ +\ +Phil continued to roam about the streets very much after the old\ +fashion, playing here and there as he thought it expedient. By noon he\ +had picked up seventy-five cents, and felt very well satisfied with his\ +success. But if, as we are told, the hour that is darkest is just before\ +day, it also happens sometimes that danger lies in wait for prosperity,\ +and danger menaced our young hero, though he did not know it. To explain\ +this, we must go back a little.\ +\ +When Pietro prepared to leave the lodging-house in the morning, the\ +padrone called loudly to him.\ +\ +"Pietro," said he, "you must find Filippo today."\ +\ +"Where shall I go?" asked Pietro.\ +\ +"Go to Newark. Filippo went there, no doubt, while you, stupid that\ +you are, went looking for him in Jersey City. You have been in Newark\ +before?"\ +\ +"Yes, signore padrone."\ +\ +"Very good; then you need no directions."\ +\ +"If I do not find him in Newark, where shall I go?"\ +\ +"He is in Newark," said the padrone, confidently. "He will not leave\ +it."\ +\ +He judged that Phil would consider himself safe there, and would prefer\ +to remain in a city rather than go into the country.\ +\ +"I will do my best," said Pietro.\ +\ +"I expect you to bring him back to-night."\ +\ +"I should like to do so," said Pietro, and he spoke the truth. Apart\ +from his natural tendency to play the tyrant over smaller boys, he felt\ +a personal grudge against Phil for eluding him the day before, and so\ +subjecting him to the trouble of another day's pursuit, besides the\ +mortification of incurring a reprimand from his uncle. Never did agent\ +accept a commission more readily than Pietro accepted that of catching\ +and bringing Filippo to the padrone.\ +\ +Leaving the lodging-house he walked down to the ferry at the foot\ +of Cortlandt Street, and took the first train for Newark. It was ten\ +o'clock before he reached the city. He had nothing in particular to\ +guide him, but made up his mind to wander about all day, inquiring from\ +time to time if anyone had seen his little brother, describing Phil.\ +After a while his inquiries were answered in the affirmative, and he\ +gradually got on the track of our hero.\ +\ +At twelve o'clock Phil went into a restaurant, and invested thirty cents\ +in a dinner. As the prices were low, he obtained for this sum all he\ +desired. Ten minutes afterward, as he was walking leisurely along with\ +that feeling of tranquil enjoyment which a full stomach is apt to give,\ +Pietro turned the corner behind him. No sooner did the organ-grinder\ +catch sight of his prey, than a fierce joy lighted up his eyes, and he\ +quickened his pace.\ +\ +"Ah, scelerato, I have you now," he exclaimed to himself. "To-night you\ +shall feel the stick."\ +\ +But opportunely for himself Phil looked behind him. When he saw Pietro\ +at but a few rods' distance his heart stood still with sudden fright,\ +and for an instant his feet were rooted to the ground. Then the thought\ +of escape came to him, and he began to run, not too soon.\ +\ +"Stop!" called out Pietro. "Stop, or I will kill you!"\ +\ +But Phil did not comprehend the advantage of surrendering himself to\ +Pietro. He understood too well how he would be treated, if he returned\ +a prisoner. Instead of obeying the call, he only sped on the faster. Now\ +between the pursuer and the pursued there was a difference of six years,\ +Pietro being eighteen, while Phil was but twelve. This, of course, was\ +in Pietro's favor. On the other hand, the pursuer was encumbered by a\ +hand-organ, which retarded his progress, while Phil had only a violin,\ +which did not delay him at all. This made their speed about equal,\ +and gave Phil a chance to escape, unless he should meet with some\ +interruption.\ +\ +"Stop!" called Pietro, furiously, beginning to realize that the victory\ +was not yet won.\ +\ +Phil looked over his shoulder, and, seeing that Pietro was no nearer,\ +took fresh courage. He darted round a corner, with his pursuer half a\ +dozen rods behind him. They were not in the most frequented parts of\ +the city, but in a quarter occupied by two-story wooden houses. Seeing\ +a front door open, Phil, with a sudden impulse, ran hastily in, closing\ +the door behind him.\ +\ +A woman with her sleeves rolled up, who appeared to have taken her arms\ +from the tub, hearing his step, came out from the back room.\ +\ +"What do ye want?" she demanded, suspiciously.\ +\ +"Save me!" cried Phil, out of breath. "Someone is chasing me. He is bad.\ +He will beat me."\ +\ +The woman's sympathies were quickly enlisted. She had a warm heart, and\ +was always ready to give aid to the oppressed.\ +\ +"Whist, darlint, run upstairs, and hide under the bed. I'll send him off\ +wid a flea in his ear, whoever he is."\ +\ +Phil was quick to take the hint. He ran upstairs, and concealed himself\ +as directed. While he was doing it, the lower door, which he had shut,\ +was opened by Pietro. He was about to rush into the house, but the\ +muscular form of Phil's friend stood in his way.\ +\ +"Out wid ye!" said she, flourishing a broom, which she had snatched up.\ +"Is that the way you inter a dacint woman's house, ye spalpeen!"\ +\ +"I want my brother," said Pietro, drawing back a little before the\ +amazon who disputed his passage.\ +\ +"Go and find him, thin!" said Bridget McGuire, "and kape out of my\ +house."\ +\ +"But he is here," said Pietro, angrily; "I saw him come in."\ +\ +"Then, one of the family is enough," said Bridget. "I don't want\ +another. Lave here wid you!"\ +\ +"Give me my brother, then!" said Pietro, provoked.\ +\ +"I don't know anything of your brother. If he looks like you, he's a\ +beauty, sure," returned Mrs. McGuire.\ +\ +"Will you let me look for him?"\ +\ +"Faith and I won't. You may call him if you plase."\ +\ +Pietro knew that this would do very little good, but there seemed\ +nothing else to do.\ +\ +"Filippo!" he called; "come here. The padrone has sent for you."\ +\ +"What was ye sayin'?" demanded Bridget not comprehending the Italian.\ +\ +"I told my brother to come."\ +\ +"Then you can go out and wait for him," said she. "I don't want you in\ +the house."\ +\ +Pietro was very angry. He suspected that Phil was in the rear room, and\ +was anxious to search for him. But Bridget McGuire was in the way--no\ +light, delicate woman, but at least forty pounds heavier than Pietro.\ +Moreover, she was armed with a broom, and seemed quite ready to use it.\ +Phil was fortunate in obtaining so able a protector. Pietro looked at\ +her, and had a vague thought of running by her, and dragging Phil out if\ +he found him. But Bridget was planted so squarely in his path that this\ +course did not seem very practicable.\ +\ +"Will you give me my brother?" demanded Pietro, forced to use words\ +where he would willingly have used blows.\ +\ +"I haven't got your brother."\ +\ +"He is in this house."\ +\ +"Thin he may stay here, but you shan't," said Bridget, and she made a\ +sudden demonstration with the broom, of so threatening a character\ +that Pietro hastily backed out of the house, and the door was instantly\ +bolted in his face.\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XXI\ +\ +THE SIEGE\ +\ +When the enemy had fairly been driven out of the house Mrs. McGuire\ +went upstairs in search of Phil. Our hero had come out from his place of\ +concealment, and stood at the window.\ +\ +"Where is Pietro?" he asked, as his hostess appeared in the chamber.\ +\ +"I druv him out of the house," said Bridget, triumphantly.\ +\ +"Then he won't come up here?" interrogated Phil.\ +\ +"It's I that would like to see him thry it," said Mrs. McGuire, shaking\ +her head in a very positive manner, "I'd break my broom over his back\ +first."\ +\ +Phil breathed freer. He saw that he was rescued from immediate danger.\ +\ +"Where is he now?"\ +\ +"He's outside watching for you. He'll have to wait till you come out."\ +\ +"May I stay here till he goes?"\ +\ +"Sure, and you may," said the warm-hearted Irishwoman. "You're as\ +welcome as flowers in May. Are you hungry?"\ +\ +"No, thank you," said Phil. "I have eaten my dinner."\ +\ +"Won't you try a bit of bread and cold mate now?" she asked, hospitably.\ +\ +"You are very kind," said Phil, gratefully, "but I am not hungry. I only\ +want to get away from Pietro."\ +\ +"Is that the haythen's name? Sure I niver heard it before."\ +\ +"It is Peter in English."\ +\ +"And has he got the name of the blessed St. Peter, thin? Sure, St. Peter\ +would be mightily ashamed of him. And is he your brother, do you say?"\ +\ +"No," said Phil.\ +\ +"He said he was; but I thought it was a wicked lie when he said it. He's\ +too bad, sure, to be a brother of yours. But I must go down to my work.\ +My clothes are in the tub, and the water will get cold."\ +\ +"Will you be kind enough to tell me when he goes away?" asked Phil.\ +\ +"Sure I will. Rest aisy, darlint. He shan't get hold of you."\ +\ +Pietro's disappointment may be imagined when he found that the victim\ +whom he had already considered in his grasp was snatched from him in\ +the very moment of his triumph. He felt nearly as much incensed at Mrs.\ +McGuire as at Phil, but against the former he had no remedy. Over the\ +stalwart Irishwoman neither he nor the padrone had any jurisdiction,\ +and he was compelled to own himself ignominiously repulsed and baffled.\ +Still all was not lost. Phil must come out of the house some time, and\ +when he did he would capture him. When that happy moment arrived he\ +resolved to inflict a little punishment on our hero on his own account,\ +in anticipation of that which awaited him from his uncle, the padrone.\ +He therefore took his position in front of the house, and maintained a\ +careful watch, that Phil might not escape unobserved.\ +\ +So half an hour passed. He could hear no noise inside the house, nor\ +did Phil show himself at any of the windows. Pietro was disturbed by a\ +sudden suspicion. What if, while he was watching, Phil had escaped by\ +the back door, and was already at a distance!\ +\ +This would be quite possible, for as he stood he could only watch the\ +front of the house. The rear was hidden from his view. Made uneasy by\ +this thought, he shifted his ground, and crept stealthily round on the\ +side, in the hope of catching a view of Phil, or perhaps hearing some\ +conversation between him and his Amazonian protector by which he might\ +set at rest his suddenly formed suspicions.\ +\ +He was wrong, however. Phil was still upstairs. He was disposed to be\ +cautious, and did not mean to leave his present place of security until\ +he should be apprised by his hostess that Pietro had gone.\ +\ +Bridget McGuire kept on with her washing. She had been once to the front\ +room, and, looking through the blinds, had ascertained that Pietro was\ +still there.\ +\ +"He'll have to wait long enough," she said to herself, "the haythen!\ +It's hard he'll find it to get the better of Bridget McGuire."\ +\ +She was still at her tub when through the opposite window on the side\ +of the house she caught sight of Pietro creeping stealthily along, as we\ +have described.\ +\ +"I'll be even wid him," said Bridget to herself exultingly. "I'll tache\ +him to prowl around my house."\ +\ +She took from her sink near by a large, long-handled tin dipper, and\ +filled it full of warm suds from the tub. Then stealing to the window,\ +she opened it suddenly, and as Pietro looked up, suddenly launched the\ +contents in his face, calling forth a volley of imprecations, which I\ +would rather not transfer to my page. Being in Italian, Bridget did not\ +exactly understand their meaning, but guessed it.\ +\ +"Is it there ye are?" she said, in affected surprise.\ +\ +"Why did you do that?" demanded Pietro, finding enough English to\ +express his indignation.\ +\ +"Why did I do it?" repeated Bridget. "How would I know that you were\ +crapin' under my windy? It serves ye right, anyhow. I don't want you\ +here."\ +\ +"Send out my brother, then," said Pietro.\ +\ +"There's no brother of yours inside," said Mrs. McGuire.\ +\ +"It's a lie!" said Pietro, angrily stamping his foot.\ +\ +"Do you want it ag'in?" asked Bridget, filling her dipper once more\ +from the tub, causing Pietro to withdraw hastily to a greater distance.\ +"Don't you tell Bridget McGuire that she lies."\ +\ +"My brother is in the house," reiterated Pietro, doggedly.\ +\ +"He is no brother of yours--he says so."\ +\ +"He lies," said Pietro.\ +\ +"Shure and it's somebody else lies, I'm thinkin'," said Bridget.\ +\ +"Is he in the house?" demanded Pietro, finding it difficult to argue\ +with Phil's protector.\ +\ +"I don't see him," said Bridget, shrewdly, turning and glancing round\ +the room.\ +\ +"I'll call the police," said Pietro, trying to intimidate his adversary.\ +\ +"I wish you would," she answered, promptly. "It would save me the\ +trouble. I'll make a charge against you for thryin' to break into my\ +house; maybe you want to stale something."\ +\ +Pietro was getting disgusted. Mrs. McGuire proved more unmanageable than\ +he anticipated. It was tantalizing to think that Phil was so near him,\ +and yet out of his reach. He anathematized Phil's protector in his\ +heart, and I am afraid it would have gone hard with her if he could have\ +had his wishes fulfilled. He was not troubled to think what next to\ +say, for Bridget suddenly terminated the interview by shutting down the\ +window with the remark: "Go away from here! I don't want you lookin' in\ +at my windy."\ +\ +Pietro did not, however, go away immediately. He moved a little further\ +to the rear, having a suspicion that Phil might escape from the door at\ +the back. While he was watching here, he suddenly heard the front door\ +open, and shut with a loud sound. He ran to the front, thinking that\ +Phil might be taking flight from the street door, but it was only a\ +ruse of Mrs. McGuire, who rather enjoyed tantalizing Pietro. He looked\ +carefully up and down the street, but, seeing nothing of Phil, he\ +concluded he must still be inside. He therefore resumed his watch, but\ +in some perplexity as to where he ought to stand, in order to watch both\ +front and rear. Phil occasionally looked guardedly from the window\ +in the second story, and saw his enemy, but knew that as long as he\ +remained indoors he was safe. It was not very agreeable remaining in\ +the chamber alone, but it was a great deal better than falling into\ +the clutches of Pietro, and he felt fortunate to have found so secure a\ +place of refuge.\ +\ +Pietro finally posted himself at the side of the house, where he could\ +command a view of both front and rear, and there maintained his\ +stand nearly underneath the window at which his intended prisoner was\ +standing.\ +\ +As Phil was watching him, suddenly he heard steps, and Bridget McGuire\ +entered the chamber. She bore in her hand the same tin dipper before\ +noticed, filled with steaming hot water. Phil regarded her with some\ +surprise.\ +\ +"Would you like to see some fun now?" she asked, her face covered by a\ +broad smile.\ +\ +"Yes," said Phil.\ +\ +"Open the windy, aisy, so he won't hear."\ +\ +Phil obeyed directions, and managed not to attract the attention of his\ +besieger below, who chanced at the moment to be looking toward the door\ +in the rear.\ +\ +"Now," said Bridget, "take this dipper and give him the binifit of it."\ +\ +"Don't let him see you do it," cautioned his protector.\ +\ +Phil took the idea and the dipper at once.\ +\ +Phil, holding the dipper carefully, discharged the contents with such\ +good aim that they drenched the watching Pietro. The water being pretty\ +hot, a howl of pain and rage rose from below, and Pietro danced about\ +frantically. Looking up, he saw no one, for Phil had followed directions\ +and drawn his head in immediately. But Mrs. McGuire, less cautious,\ +looked out directly afterward.\ +\ +"Will ye go now, or will ye stand jist where I throw the hot water?"\ +\ +In reply, Pietro indulged in some rather emphatic language, but being\ +in the Italian language, in which he was more fluent, it fell unregarded\ +upon the ears of Mrs. McGuire.\ +\ +"I told you to go," she said. "I've got some more wather inside."\ +\ +Pietro stepped back in alarm. He had no disposition to take another warm\ +shower bath, and he had found out to his cost that Bridget McGuire was\ +not a timid woman, or easily frightened.\ +\ +But he had not yet abandoned the siege. He shifted his ground to the\ +front of the house, and took a position commanding a view of the front\ +door.\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XXII\ +\ +THE SIEGE IS RAISED\ +\ +Though Phil was the besieged party, his position was decidedly\ +preferable to that of Pietro. The afternoon was passing, and he was\ +earning nothing. He finally uncovered his organ and began to play. A few\ +gathered around him, but they were of that class with whom money is not\ +plenty. So after a while, finding no pennies forthcoming, he stopped\ +suddenly, but did not move on, as his auditors expected him to. He still\ +kept his eyes fixed on Mrs. McGuire's dwelling. He did this so long as\ +to attract observation.\ +\ +"You'll know the house next time, mister," said a sharp boy.\ +\ +Pietro was about to answer angrily, when a thought struck him.\ +\ +"Will you do something for me?" he asked.\ +\ +"How much?" inquired the boy, suggestively.\ +\ +"Five cents," answered Pietro, understanding his meaning.\ +\ +"It isn't much," said the boy, reflectively. "Tell me what you want."\ +\ +Though Pietro was not much of a master of English, he contrived to make\ +the boy understand that he was to go round to the back door and tell\ +Mrs. McGuire that he, Pietro, was gone. He intended to hide close\ +by, and when Phil came out, as he hoped, on the strength of his\ +disappearance, he would descend upon him and bear him off triumphantly.\ +\ +Armed with these instructions, the boy went round to the back door and\ +knocked.\ +\ +Thinking it might be Phil's enemy, Mrs. McGuire went to the door,\ +holding in one hand a dipper of hot suds, ready to use in case of\ +emergency.\ +\ +"Well, what do you want?" she asked, abruptly, seeing that it was a boy.\ +\ +"He's gone," said the boy.\ +\ +"Who's gone?"\ +\ +"The man with the hand-organ, ma'am."\ +\ +"And what for do I care?" demanded Bridget, suspiciously.\ +\ +This was a question the boy could not answer. In fact, he wondered\ +himself why such a message should have been sent. He could only look at\ +her in silence.\ +\ +"Who told you to tell the man was gone?" asked Bridget, with a\ +shrewdness worthy of a practitioner at the bar.\ +\ +"The Italian told me."\ +\ +"Did he?" repeated Bridget, who saw into the trick at once. "He's very\ +kind."\ +\ +"He didn't want you to know he told me," said the boy, remembering his\ +instructions when it was too late.\ +\ +Mrs. McGuire nodded her head intelligently.\ +\ +"True for you," said she. "What did he pay you for tellin' me?"\ +\ +"Five cents."\ +\ +"Thin it's five cints lost. Do you want to earn another five cints?"\ +\ +"Yes," said the boy, promptly.\ +\ +"Thin do what I tell you."\ +\ +"What is it?"\ +\ +"Come in and I'll tell you."\ +\ +The boy having entered, Mrs. McGuire led him to the front door.\ +\ +"Now," said she, "when I open the door, run as fast as you can. The man\ +that sint you will think it is another boy, and will run after you. Do\ +ye mind?"\ +\ +The young messenger began to see the joke, and was quite willing to help\ +carry it out. But even the prospective fun did not make him forgetful of\ +his promised recompense.\ +\ +"Where's the five cents?" he asked.\ +\ +"Here," said Bridget, and diving into the depths of a capacious pocket,\ +she drew out five pennies.\ +\ +"That's all right," said the boy. "Now, open the door."\ +\ +Bridget took care to make a noise in opening the door, and, as it\ +opened, she said in a loud and exultant voice, "You're all safe now; the\ +man's gone."\ +\ +"Now run," she said, in a lower voice.\ +\ +The boy dashed out of the doorway, but Mrs. McGuire remained standing\ +there. She was not much surprised to see Pietro run out from the\ +other side of the house, and prepare to chase the runaway. But quickly\ +perceiving that he was mistaken, he checked his steps, and turning, saw\ +Mrs. McGuire with a triumphant smile on her face.\ +\ +"Why don't you run?" she said. "You can catch him."\ +\ +"It isn't my brother," he answered, sullenly.\ +\ +"I thought you was gone," she said.\ +\ +"I am waiting for my brother."\ +\ +"Thin you'll have to wait. You wanted to chate me, you haythen! But\ +Bridget McGuire ain't to be took in by such as you. You'd better lave\ +before my man comes home from his work, or he'll give you lave of\ +absence wid a kick."\ +\ +Without waiting for an answer, Bridget shut the door, and bolted\ +it--leaving her enemy routed at all points.\ +\ +In fact Pietro began to lose courage. He saw that he had a determined\ +foe to contend with. He had been foiled thus far in every effort to\ +obtain possession of Phil. But the more difficult the enterprise seemed,\ +the more anxious he became to carry it out successfully. He knew that\ +the padrone would not give him a very cordial reception if he returned\ +without Phil, especially as he would be compelled to admit that he had\ +seen him, and had nevertheless failed to secure him. His uncle would\ +not be able to appreciate the obstacles he had encountered, but would\ +consider him in fault. For this reason he did not like to give up\ +the siege, though he saw little hopes of accomplishing his object. At\ +length, however, he was obliged to raise the siege, but from a cause\ +with which neither Phil nor his defender had anything to do.\ +\ +The sky, which had till this time been clear, suddenly darkened. In ten\ +minutes rain began to fall in large drops. A sudden shower, unusual\ +at this time of the year, came up, and pedestrians everywhere, caught\ +without umbrellas, fled panic-stricken to the nearest shelter. Twice\ +before, as we know, Pietro had suffered from a shower of warm water.\ +This, though colder, was even more formidable. Vanquished by the forces\ +of nature, Pietro shouldered his instrument and fled incontinently. Phil\ +might come out now, if he chose. His enemy had deserted his post, and\ +the coast was clear.\ +\ +"That'll make the haythen lave," thought Mrs. McGuire, who, though sorry\ +to see the rain on account of her washing, exulted in the fact that\ +Pietro was caught out in it.\ +\ +She went to the front door and looked out. Looking up the street, she\ +just caught a glimpse of the organ in rapid retreat. She now unbolted\ +the door, the danger being at an end, and went up to acquaint Phil with\ +the good news.\ +\ +"You may come down now," she said.\ +\ +"Is he gone?" inquired Phil.\ +\ +"Shure he's runnin' up the street as fast as his legs can carry him."\ +\ +"Thank you for saving me from him," said, Phil, with a great sense of\ +relief at the flight of his enemy.\ +\ +"Whisht now; I don't nade any thanks. Come down by the fire now."\ +\ +So Phil went down, and Bridget, on hospitable thoughts intent, drew her\ +only rocking-chair near the stove, and forced Phil to sit down in it.\ +Then she told him, with evident enjoyment, of the trick which Pietro had\ +tried to play on her, and how he had failed.\ +\ +"He couldn't chate me, the haythen!" she concluded. "I was too smart for\ +the likes of him, anyhow. Where do you live when you are at home?"\ +\ +"I have no home now," said Phil, with tears in his eyes.\ +\ +"And have you no father and mother?"\ +\ +"Yes," said Phil. "They live in Italy."\ +\ +"And why did they let you go so far away?"\ +\ +"They were poor, and the padrone offered them money," answered Phil,\ +forced to answer, though the subject was an unpleasant one.\ +\ +"And did they know he was a bad man and would bate you?"\ +\ +"I don't think they knew," said Phil, with hesitation. "My mother did\ +not know."\ +\ +"I've got three childer myself," said Bridget; "they'll get wet comin'\ +home from school, the darlints--but I wouldn't let them go with any man\ +to a far country, if he'd give me all the gowld in the world. And where\ +does that man live that trates you so bad?"\ +\ +"In New York."\ +\ +"And does Peter--or whatever the haythen's name is--live there too?"\ +\ +"Yes, Pietro lives there. The padrone is his uncle, and treats him\ +better than the rest of us. He sent him after me to bring me back."\ +\ +"And what is your name? Is it Peter, like his?"\ +\ +"No; my name is Filippo."\ +\ +"It's a quare name."\ +\ +"American boys call me Phil."\ +\ +"That's better. It's a Christian name, and the other isn't. Before I\ +married my man I lived five years at Mrs. Robertson's, and she had a boy\ +they called Phil. His whole name was Philip."\ +\ +"That's my name in English."\ +\ +"Then why don't you call it so, instead of Philip-O? What good is the O,\ +anyhow? In my country they put the O before the name, instead of to the\ +tail-end of it. My mother was an O'Connor. But it's likely ivery country\ +has its own ways."\ +\ +Phil knew very little of Ireland, and did not fully understand Mrs.\ +McGuire's philosophical remarks. Otherwise they might have amused him,\ +as they may possibly amuse my readers.\ +\ +I cannot undertake to chronicle the conversation that took place between\ +Phil and his hostess. She made numerous inquiries, to some of which he\ +was able to give satisfactory replies, to others not. But in half\ +an hour there was an interruption, and a noisy one. Three stout,\ +freckled-faced children ran in at the back door, dripping as if they had\ +just emerged from a shower-bath. Phil moved aside to let them approach\ +the stove.\ +\ +Forthwith Mrs. McGuire was engaged in motherly care, removing a part\ +of the wet clothing, and lamenting for the state in which her sturdy\ +offspring had returned. But presently order was restored, and the bustle\ +was succeeded by quiet.\ +\ +"Play us a tune," said Pat, the oldest.\ +\ +Phil complied with the request, and played tune after tune, to the great\ +delight of the children, as well as of Mrs. McGuire herself. The result\ +was that when, shortly after, on the storm subsiding, Phil proposed\ +to go, the children clamored to have him stay, and he received such\ +a cordial invitation to stop till the next morning that he accepted,\ +nothing loath. So till the next morning our young hero is provided for.\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XXIII\ +\ +A PITCHED BATTLE\ +\ +Has my youthful reader ever seen a dog slinking home with downcast\ +look and tall between his legs? It was with very much the same air\ +that Pietro in the evening entered the presence of the padrone. He had\ +received a mortifying defeat, and now he had before him the difficult\ +task of acknowledging it.\ +\ +"Well, Pietro," said the padrone, harshly, "where is Filippo?"\ +\ +"He is not with me," answered Pietro, in an embarrassed manner.\ +\ +"Didn't you see him then?" demanded his uncle, hastily.\ +\ +For an instant Pietro was inclined to reply in the negative, knowing\ +that the censure he would incur would be less. But Phil might yet be\ +taken--he probably would be, sooner or later, Pietro thought--and then\ +his falsehood would be found out, and he would in consequence lose the\ +confidence of the padrone. So, difficult though it was, he thought it\ +politic to tell the truth.\ +\ +"Si, signore, I saw him," said he.\ +\ +"Then why didn't you drag him home?" demanded his uncle, with contracted\ +brow. "Didn't I tell you to bring him home?"\ +\ +"Si, signore, but I could not."\ +\ +"Are you not so strong as he, then?" asked the padrone, with a sneer.\ +"Is a boy of twelve more than a match for you, who are six years older?"\ +\ +"I could kill him with my little finger," said Pietro, stung by this\ +taunt, and for the moment he looked as if he would like to do it.\ +\ +"Then you didn't want to bring him? Come, you are not too old for the\ +stick yet."\ +\ +Pietro glowed beneath his dark skin with anger and shame when these\ +words were addressed to him. He would not have cared so much had they\ +been alone, but some of the younger boys were present, and it shamed him\ +to be threatened in their presence.\ +\ +"I will tell you how it happened," he said, suppressing his anger as\ +well as he could, "and you will see that I was not in fault."\ +\ +"Speak on, then," said his uncle; but his tone was cold and incredulous.\ +\ +Pietro told the story, as we know it. It will not be necessary to repeat\ +it. When he had finished, his uncle said, with a sneer, "So you were\ +afraid of a woman. I am ashamed of you."\ +\ +"What could I do?" pleaded Pietro.\ +\ +"What could you do?" repeated the padrone, furiously; "you could\ +push her aside, run into the house, and secure the boy. You are a\ +coward--afraid of a woman!"\ +\ +"It was her house," said Pietro. "She would call the police."\ +\ +"So could you. You could say it was your brother you sought. There was\ +no difficulty. Do you think Filippo is there yet?"\ +\ +"I do not know."\ +\ +"To-morrow I will go with you myself," said the padrone. "I see I cannot\ +trust you alone. You shall show me the house, and I will take the boy."\ +\ +Pietro was glad to hear this. It shifted the responsibility from his\ +shoulders, and he was privately convinced that Mrs. McGuire would prove\ +a more formidable antagonist than the padrone imagined. Whichever way\ +it turned out, he would experience a feeling of satisfaction. If the\ +padrone got worsted, it would show that he, Pietro, need not be ashamed\ +of his defeat. If Mrs. McGuire had to surrender at discretion, he would\ +rejoice in her discomfiture. So, in spite of his reprimand, he went to\ +bed with better spirits than he came home.\ +\ +The next morning Pietro and the padrone proceeded to Newark, as\ +proposed. Arrived there, the former led his uncle at once to the house\ +of the redoubtable Mrs. McGuire. It will be necessary for us to precede\ +them.\ +\ +Patrick McGuire was a laborer, and for some months past had had steady\ +work. But, as luck would have it, work ceased for him on the day in\ +which his wife had proved so powerful a protector to Phil. When he came\ +home at night he announced this.\ +\ +"Niver mind, Pat," said Mrs. McGuire, who was sanguine and hopeful,\ +"we'll live somehow. I've got a bit of money upstairs, and I'll earn\ +something by washing. We won't starve."\ +\ +"I'll get work ag'in soon, maybe," said Pat, encouraged.\ +\ +"Shure you will."\ +\ +"And if I don't, I'll help you wash," said her husband, humorously.\ +\ +"Shure you'd spoil the clothes," said Bridget, laughing.\ +\ +In the evening Phil played, and they had a merry time. Mr. McGuire quite\ +forgot that he was out of work, and, seizing his wife by the waist,\ +danced around the kitchen, to the great delight of the children.\ +\ +The next morning Phil thanked Mrs. McGuire for her kindness, and\ +prepared to go away.\ +\ +"Why will you go?" asked Bridget, hospitably. "Shure we have room\ +for you. You can pay us a little for your atin', and sleep with the\ +childer."\ +\ +"I should like it," said Phil, "but----"\ +\ +"But what?"\ +\ +"Pietro will come for me."\ +\ +"And if he does, my Pat will kick him out of doors."\ +\ +Mr. McGuire was six feet in height, and powerfully made. There was no\ +doubt he could do it if he had the opportunity. But Phil knew that he\ +must go out into the streets and then Pietro might waylay him when he\ +had no protector at hand. He explained his difficulty to Mrs. McGuire,\ +and she proposed that he should remain close at hand all the forenoon;\ +near enough to fly to the house as a refuge, if needful. If Pietro did\ +not appear in that time, he probably would not at all.\ +\ +Phil agreed to this plan, and accordingly began to play and sing in the\ +neighborhood, keeping a watchful lookout for the enemy. His earnings\ +were small, for the neighborhood was poor. Still, he picked up a few\ +pennies, and his store was increased by a twenty-five cent gift from a\ +passing gentleman. He had just commenced a new tune, being at that time\ +ten rods from the house, when his watchful eyes detected the approach of\ +Pietro, and, more formidable still, the padrone.\ +\ +He did not stop to finish his tune, but took to his heels. At that\ +moment the padrone saw him. With a cry of exultation, he started in\ +pursuit, and Pietro with him. He thought Phil already in his grasp.\ +\ +Phil dashed breathless into the kitchen, where Mrs. McGuire was ironing.\ +\ +"What's the matter?" she asked.\ +\ +"The padrone--Pietro and the padrone!" exclaimed Phil, pale with\ +affright.\ +\ +Mrs. McGuire took in the situation at once.\ +\ +"Run upstairs," she said. "Pat's up there on the bed. He will see they\ +won't take you."\ +\ +Phil sprang upstairs two steps at a time, and dashed into the chamber.\ +Mr. McGuire was lying on the outside of the bed, peacefully smoking a\ +clay pipe.\ +\ +"What's the matther?" he asked, repeating his wife's question.\ +\ +"They have come for me," said Phil.\ +\ +"Have they?" said Pat. "Then they'll go back, I'm thinkin'. Where are\ +they?"\ +\ +But there was no need of a reply, as their voices were already audible\ +from below, talking with Mrs. McGuire. The distance was so trifling that\ +they had seen Phil enter the house, and the padrone, having a contempt\ +for the physical powers of woman, followed boldly.\ +\ +They met Mrs. McGuire at the door.\ +\ +"What do you want?" she demanded.\ +\ +"The boy," said the padrone. "I saw him come in here."\ +\ +"Did ye? Your eyes is sharp thin."\ +\ +She stood directly in the passage, so that neither could enter without\ +brushing her aside.\ +\ +"Send him out," said the padrone.\ +\ +"Faith, and I won't," said Bridget. "He shall stay here as long as he\ +likes."\ +\ +"I will come in and take him," said the padrone, furiously.\ +\ +"I wouldn't advise ye to thry it," said Mrs. McGuire, coolly.\ +\ +"Move aside, woman, or I will make you," said the Italian, angrily.\ +\ +"I'll stay where I am. Shure, it's my own house, and I have a right to\ +do it."\ +\ +"Pietro," said the padrone, with sudden thought, "he may escape from the\ +front door. Go round and watch it."\ +\ +By his sign Bridget guessed what he said, though it was spoken in\ +Italian.\ +\ +"He won't run away," she said. "I'll tell you where he is, if you want\ +to know."\ +\ +"Where?" asked the padrone, eagerly.\ +\ +"He's upstairs, thin."\ +\ +The padrone would not be restrained any longer. He made a rush forward,\ +and, pushing Mrs. McGuire aside, sprang up the stairs. He would have\ +found greater difficulty in doing this, but Bridget, knowing her husband\ +was upstairs, made little resistance, and contented herself, after\ +the padrone had passed, with intercepting Pietro, and clutching him\ +vigorously by the hair, to his great discomfort, screaming "Murther!" at\ +the top of her lungs.\ +\ +The padrone heard the cry, but in his impetuosity he did not heed it. He\ +expected to gain an easy victory over Phil, whom he supposed to be alone\ +in the chamber. He sprang toward him, but had barely seized him by the\ +arm, when the gigantic form of the Irishman appeared, and the padrone\ +found himself in his powerful grasp.\ +\ +"What business have ye here, you bloody villain?" demanded Pat;\ +"breakin' into an honest man's house, without lave or license. I'll\ +teach you manners, you baste!"\ +\ +"Give me the boy!" gasped the padrone.\ +\ +"You can't have him, thin!" said Pat "You want to bate him, you\ +murderin' ould villain!"\ +\ +"I'll have you arrested," said the padrone, furiously, writhing vainly\ +to get himself free. He was almost beside himself that Phil should be\ +the witness of his humiliation.\ +\ +"Will you, thin?" demanded Pat. "Thin the sooner you do it the betther.\ +Open the window, Phil!"\ +\ +Phil obeyed, not knowing why the request was made. He was soon\ +enlightened. The Irishman seized the padrone, and, lifting him from the\ +floor, carried him to the window, despite his struggles, and, thrusting\ +him out, let him drop. It was only the second story, and there was no\ +danger of serious injury. The padrone picked himself up, only to meet\ +with another disaster. A passing policeman had heard Mrs. McGuire's\ +cries, and on hearing her account had arrested Pietro, and was just in\ +time to arrest the padrone also, on the charge of forcibly entering the\ +house. As the guardian of the peace marched off with Pietro on one\ +side and the padrone on the other, Mrs. McGuire sat down on a chair and\ +laughed till she cried.\ +\ +"Shure, they won't come for you again in a hurry, Phil, darlint!" she\ +said. "They've got all they want, I'm thinkin'."\ +\ +I may add that the pair were confined in the station-house over night,\ +and the next day were brought before a justice, reprimanded and fined.\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XXIV\ +\ +THE DEATH OF GIACOMO\ +\ +Great was the astonishment at the Italian lodging-house that night when\ +neither the padrone nor Pietro made his appearance. Great was the joy,\ +too, for the nightly punishments were also necessarily omitted, and the\ +boys had no one to pay their money to. There was another circumstance\ +not so agreeable. All the provisions were locked up, and there was no\ +supper for the hungry children. Finally, at half-past eleven, three\ +boys, bolder than the rest, went out, and at last succeeded in obtaining\ +some bread and crackers at an oyster saloon, in sufficient quantities to\ +supply all their comrades. After eating heartily they went to bed, and\ +for one night the establishment ran itself much more satisfactorily to\ +the boys than if the padrone had been present.\ +\ +The next morning the boys went out as usual, having again bought their\ +breakfast and dispersed themselves about the city and vicinity, heartily\ +hoping that this state of things might continue. But it was too good\ +to last. When they returned at evening they found their old enemy in\ +command. He looked more ill-tempered and sour than ever, but gave no\ +explanation of his and Pietro's absence, except to say that he had been\ +out of the city on business. He called for the boys' earnings of the\ +day previous, but to their surprise made no inquiries about how they had\ +supplied themselves with supper or breakfast. He felt that his influence\ +over the boys, and the terror which he delighted to inspire in them,\ +would be lessened if they should learn that he had been arrested and\ +punished. The boys were accustomed to look upon him as possessed of\ +absolute power over them, and almost regarded him as above law.\ +\ +Pietro, too, was silent, partly for the same reasons which influenced\ +the padrone, partly because he was afraid of offending his uncle.\ +\ +Meanwhile poor Giacomo remained sick. If he had been as robust and\ +strong as Phil, he would have recovered, but he was naturally delicate,\ +and exposure and insufficient food had done their work only too well.\ +\ +Four days afterward (to advance the story a little) one of the boys came\ +to the padrone in the morning, saying: "Signore padrone, Giacomo is much\ +worse. I think he is going to die."\ +\ +"Nonsense!" said the padrone, angrily. "He is only pretending to be\ +sick, so that he need not work. I have lost enough by him already."\ +\ +Nevertheless he went to the little boy's bedside.\ +\ +Giacomo was breathing faintly. His face was painfully thin, his eyes\ +preternaturally bright. He spoke faintly, but his mind seemed to be\ +wandering.\ +\ +"Where is Filippo?" he said. "I want to see Filippo."\ +\ +In this wish the padrone heartily concurred. He, too, would have been\ +glad to see Filippo, but the pleasure would not have been mutual.\ +\ +"Why do you want to see Filippo?" he demanded, in his customary harsh\ +tone.\ +\ +Giacomo heard and answered, though unconscious who spoke to him.\ +\ +"I want to kiss him before I die," he said.\ +\ +"What makes you think you are going to die?" said the tyrant, struck by\ +the boy's appearance.\ +\ +"I am so weak," murmured Giacomo. "Stoop down, Filippo. I want to tell\ +you something in your ear."\ +\ +Moved by curiosity rather than humanity, the padrone stooped over, and\ +Giacomo whispered:\ +\ +"When you go back to Italy, dear Filippo, go and tell my mother how I\ +died. Tell her not to let my father sell my little brother to a padrone,\ +or he may die far away, as I am dying. Promise me, Filippo."\ +\ +There was no answer. The padrone did indeed feel a slight emotion of\ +pity, but it was, unhappily, transient. Giacomo did not observe that the\ +question was not answered.\ +\ +"Kiss me, Filippo," said the dying boy.\ +\ +One of the boys who stood nearby, with tears in his eyes, bent over and\ +kissed him.\ +\ +Giacomo smiled. He thought it was Filippo. With that smile on his face,\ +he gave one quick gasp and died--a victim of the padrone's tyranny and\ +his father's cupidity.(1)\ +\ + (1) It is the testimony of an eminent Neapolitan physician\ + (I quote from Signor Casali, editor of L'Eco d'Italia) that\ + of one hundred Italian children who are sold by their\ + parents into this white slavery, but twenty ever return\ + home; thirty grow up and adopt various occupations abroad,\ + and fifty succumb to maladies produced by privation and\ + exposure.\ +\ +Death came to Giacomo as a friend. No longer could he be forced out into\ +the streets to suffer cold and fatigue, and at night inhuman treatment\ +and abuse. His slavery was at an end.\ +\ +We go back now to Phil. Though he and his friends had again gained a\ +victory over Pietro and the padrone, he thought it would not be prudent\ +to remain in Newark any longer. He knew the revengeful spirit of his\ +tyrants, and dreaded the chance of again falling into their hands. He\ +must, of course, be exposed to the risk of capture while plying his\ +vocation in the public streets. Therefore he resisted the invitation of\ +his warm-hearted protectors to make his home with them, and decided to\ +wander farther away from New York.\ +\ +The next day, therefore, he went to the railway station and bought a\ +ticket for a place ten miles further on. This he decided would be far\ +enough to be safe.\ +\ +Getting out of the train, he found himself in a village of moderate\ +size. Phil looked around him with interest. He had the fondness, natural\ +to his age, for seeing new places. He soon came to a schoolhouse. It was\ +only a quarter of nine, and some of the boys were playing outside. Phil\ +leaned against a tree and looked on.\ +\ +Though he was at an age when boys enjoy play better than work or study,\ +he had no opportunity to join in their games.\ +\ +One of the boys, observing him, came up and said frankly, "Do you want\ +to play with us?"\ +\ +"Yes," said Phil, brightening up, "I should like to."\ +\ +"Come on, then."\ +\ +Phil looked at his fiddle and hesitated.\ +\ +"Oh, I'll take care of your fiddle for you. Here, this tree is hollow;\ +just put it inside, and nobody will touch it."\ +\ +Phil needed no second invitation. Sure of the safety of his fiddle,\ +which was all-important to him since it procured for him his livelihood,\ +he joined in the game with zest. It was so simple that he easily\ +understood it. His laugh was as loud and merry as any of the rest, and\ +his face glowed with enjoyment.\ +\ +It does not take long for boys to become acquainted. In the brief\ +time before the teacher's arrival, Phil became on good terms with the\ +schoolboys, and the one who had first invited him to join them said:\ +"Come into school with us. You shall sit in my seat."\ +\ +"Will he let me?" asked Phil, pointing to the teacher.\ +\ +"To be sure he will. Come along."\ +\ +Phil took his fiddle from its hiding-place in the interior of the tree,\ +and walked beside his companion into the schoolroom.\ +\ +It was the first time he had ever been in a schoolroom before, and he\ +looked about him with curiosity at the desks, and the maps hanging\ +on the walls. The blackboards, too, he regarded with surprise, not\ +understanding their use.\ +\ +After the opening exercises were concluded, the teacher, whose attention\ +had been directed to the newcomer, walked up to the desk where he\ +was seated. Phil was a little alarmed, for, associating him with his\ +recollections of the padrone, he did not know but that he would be\ +punished for his temerity in entering without the teacher's invitation.\ +\ +But he was soon reassured by the pleasant tone in which he was\ +addressed.\ +\ +"What is your name, my young friend?"\ +\ +"Filippo."\ +\ +"You are an Italian, I suppose."\ +\ +"Si, signore."\ +\ +"Does that mean 'Yes, sir'?"\ +\ +"Yes, sir," answered Phil, remembering to speak English.\ +\ +"Is that your violin?"\ +\ +"Yes, sir."\ +\ +"Where do you live?"\ +\ +Phil hesitated.\ +\ +"I am traveling," he said at last.\ +\ +"You are young to travel alone. How long have you been in this country?"\ +\ +"A year."\ +\ +"And have you been traveling about all that time?"\ +\ +"No, signore; I have lived in New York."\ +\ +"I suppose you have not gone to school?"\ +\ +"No, signore."\ +\ +"Well, I am glad to see you here; I shall be glad to have you stay and\ +listen to our exercises."\ +\ +The teacher walked back to his desk, and the lessons began. Phil\ +listened with curiosity and attention. For the first time in his life\ +he felt ashamed of his own ignorance, and wished he, too, might have\ +a chance to learn, as the children around him were doing. But they had\ +homes and parents to supply their wants, while he must work for his\ +livelihood.\ +\ +After a time, recess came. Then the boys gathered around, and asked Phil\ +to play them a tune.\ +\ +"Will he let me?" asked the young fiddler, again referring to the\ +teacher.\ +\ +The latter, being applied to, readily consented, and expressed his own\ +wish to hear Phil. So the young minstrel played and sang several tunes\ +to the group of children who gathered around him. Time passed rapidly,\ +and the recess was over before the children anticipated it.\ +\ +"I am sorry to disturb your enjoyment," said the teacher; "but duty\ +before pleasure, you know. I will only suggest that, as our young friend\ +here depends on his violin for support, we ought to collect a little\ +money for him. James Reynolds, suppose you pass around your hat for\ +contributions. Let me suggest that you come to me first."\ +\ +The united offerings, though small individually, amounted to a dollar,\ +which Phil pocketed with much satisfaction. He did not remain after\ +recess, but resumed his wanderings, and about noon entered a grocery\ +store, where he made a hearty lunch. Thus far good fortune attended him,\ +but the time was coming, and that before long, when life would wear a\ +less sunny aspect.\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XXV\ +\ +PHIL FINDS A FRIEND\ +\ +It was the evening before Christmas. Until to-day the winter had been an\ +open one, but about one o'clock in the afternoon the snow began to fall.\ +The flakes came thicker and faster, and it soon became evident that an\ +old-fashioned snowstorm had set in. By seven o'clock the snow lay a foot\ +deep on the level, but in some places considerably deeper, for a brisk\ +wind had piled it up in places.\ +\ +In a handsome house, some rods back from the village street, lived Dr.\ +Drayton, a physician, whose skill was so well appreciated that he had\ +already, though still in the prime of life, accumulated a handsome\ +competence.\ +\ +He sat this evening in his library, in dressing-gown and slippers, his\ +wife nearby engaged in some needlework.\ +\ +"I hope you won't be called out this evening, Joseph," said Mrs.\ +Drayton, as a gust of wind tattled the window panes.\ +\ +"I echo that wish, my dear," said the doctor, looking up from the last\ +number of the Atlantic Monthly. "I find it much more comfortable here,\ +reading Dr. Holmes' last article."\ +\ +"The snow must be quite deep."\ +\ +"It is. I found my ride from the north village this afternoon bleak\ +enough. You know how the wind sweeps across the road near the Pond\ +schoolhouse. I believe there is to be a Christmas-eve celebration in the\ +Town Hall this evening, is there not?"\ +\ +"No; it has been postponed till to-morrow evening."\ +\ +"That will be better. The weather and walking will both be better. Shall\ +we go, Mary?"\ +\ +"If you wish it," she said, hesitatingly.\ +\ +Her husband understood her hesitation. Christmas day was a sad\ +anniversary for them. Four years before, their only son, Walter, a boy\ +of eight, had died just as the Christmas church bells were ringing out a\ +summons to church. Since then the house had been a silent one, the quiet\ +unbroken by childish noise and merriment. Much as the doctor and his\ +wife were to each other, both felt the void which Walter's death had\ +created, and especially as the anniversary came around which called to\ +mind their great loss.\ +\ +"I think we had better go," said the doctor; "though God has bereft us\ +of our own child, it will be pleasant for us to watch the happy faces of\ +others."\ +\ +"Perhaps you are right, Joseph."\ +\ +Half an hour passed. The doctor continued reading the Atlantic, while\ +his wife, occupied with thoughts which the conversation had called up,\ +kept on with her work.\ +\ +Just then the bell was heard to ring.\ +\ +"I hope it is not for you, Joseph," said his wife, apprehensively.\ +\ +"I am afraid it is," said the doctor, with a look of resignation.\ +\ +"I thought it would be too good luck for me to have the whole evening to\ +myself."\ +\ +"I wish you were not a doctor," said Mrs. Drayton.\ +\ +"It is rather too late to change my profession, my dear," said her\ +husband, good-humoredly. "I shall be fifty next birthday. To be sure,\ +Ellen Jones tells me that in her class at the Normal School there is a\ +maiden lady of sixty-two, who has just begun to prepare herself for the\ +profession of a teacher. I am not quite so old as that."\ +\ +Here the servant opened the door, ushering in a farm laborer.\ +\ +"Good-evening, Abner," said the doctor, recognizing him, as, indeed, he\ +knew every face within half a dozen miles. "Anything amiss at home?"\ +\ +"Mrs. Felton is took with spasms," said Abner. "Can you come right\ +over?"\ +\ +"What have you done for her?"\ +\ +"Put her feet in warm water, and put her to bed. Can you come right\ +over?"\ +\ +"Yes," said the doctor, rising and exchanging his dressing-gown for\ +a coat, and drawing on his boots. "I will go as soon as my horse is\ +ready."\ +\ +Orders were sent out to put the horse to the sleigh. This was quickly\ +done, and the doctor, fully accoutered, walked to the door.\ +\ +"I shall be back as soon as I can, Mary," he said.\ +\ +"That won't be very soon. It is a good two-miles' ride."\ +\ +"I shan't loiter on the way, you may be sure of that. Abner, I am\ +ready."\ +\ +The snow was still falling, but not quite so fast as early in the\ +afternoon. The wind, however, blew quite as hard, and the doctor found\ +all his wrappings needful.\ +\ +At intervals on the road he came to deep drifts of snow through which\ +the horse had some difficulty in drawing the sleigh, but at length he\ +arrived at the door of his patient. He found that the violence of her\ +attack was over, and, satisfied of this, left a few simple directions,\ +which he considered sufficient. Nature would do the rest.\ +\ +"Now for home!" he said to himself. "I hope this will be my last\ +professional call this evening. Mary will be impatient for my return."\ +\ +He gave the reins to his horse, who appeared to feel that he was bound\ +homeward, and traveled with more alacrity than he had come.\ +\ +He, too, no doubt shared the doctor's hope that this was the last\ +service required of him before the morrow.\ +\ +Doctor Drayton had completed rather more than half his journey, when,\ +looking to the right, his attention was drawn to a small, dark object,\ +nearly covered with snow.\ +\ +Instinctively he reined up his horse.\ +\ +"Good heavens!" he exclaimed, "it must be a boy. God grant he is not\ +frozen!"\ +\ +He leaped from his sleigh, and lifted the insensible body.\ +\ +"It is an Italian boy, and here is his violin. The poor child may be\ +dead," he said to himself in a startled tone. "I must carry him home,\ +and see what I can do for him."\ +\ +So he took up tenderly our young hero--for our readers will have guessed\ +that it was Phil--and put both him and his violin into the sleigh. Then\ +he drove home with a speed which astonished even his horse, who, though\ +anxious to reach his comfortable stable, would not voluntarily have put\ +forth so great an exertion as was now required of him.\ +\ +I must explain that Phil had for the last ten days been traveling about\ +the country, getting on comfortably while the ground was bare of snow.\ +To-day, however, had proved very uncomfortable. In the city the snow\ +would have been cleared off, and would not have interfered so much with\ +traveling.\ +\ +He had bought some supper at a grocery store, and, after spending an\ +hour there, had set out again on his wanderings. He found the walking so\ +bad that he made up his mind to apply for a lodging at a house not\ +far back; but a fierce dog, by his barking, had deterred him from the\ +application. The road was lonely, and he had seen no other house since.\ +Finally, exhausted by the effort of dragging himself through the deep\ +snow, and, stiff with cold, he sank down by the side of the road, and\ +would doubtless have frozen had not the doctor made his appearance\ +opportunely.\ +\ +Mrs. Drayton was alarmed when her husband entered the sitting-room,\ +bearing Phil's insensible form.\ +\ +She jumped to her feet in alarm.\ +\ +"Who is it, Joseph?" she asked.\ +\ +"A poor Italian boy, whom I found by the side of the road."\ +\ +"Is he dead?" asked the doctor's wife, quickly.\ +\ +"I think not. I will restore him if there is any life left in him."\ +\ +It was fortunate for Phil that he had been discovered by a skillful\ +physician, who knew the most effectual means of bringing him to. The\ +flame of life was burning low, and a little longer exposure would have\ +closed the earthly career of our young hero. But he was spared, as we\ +hope, for a happy and useful career.\ +\ +By the application of powerful restoratives Phil was at length brought\ +round. His chilled limbs grew warm, and his heart began to beat more\ +steadily and strongly. A bed was brought down to the sitting-room, and\ +he was placed in it.\ +\ +"Where am I?" he asked faintly, when he opened his eyes.\ +\ +"You are with friends, my boy. Don't ask questions now. In the morning,\ +you may ask as many as you like."\ +\ +Phil closed his eyes languidly, and soon fell into a sound sleep.\ +\ +Nature was doing her work well and rapidly.\ +\ +In the morning Phil woke up almost wholly restored.\ +\ +As he opened his eyes, he met the kind glances of the doctor and his\ +wife.\ +\ +"How do you feel this morning?" asked the doctor.\ +\ +"I feel well," said Phil, looking around him with curiosity.\ +\ +"Do you think you could eat some breakfast?" asked Dr. Drayton, with a\ +smile.\ +\ +"Yes, sir," said Phil.\ +\ +"Then, my lad, I think I can promise you some as soon as you are\ +dressed. But I see from your looks you want to know where you are and\ +how you came here. Don't you remember the snow-storm yesterday?"\ +\ +Phil shuddered. He remembered it only too well.\ +\ +"I found you lying by the side of the road about half-past eight in the\ +evening. I suppose you don't remember my picking you up?"\ +\ +"No, sir."\ +\ +"You were insensible. I was afraid at first you were frozen. But I\ +brought you home, and, thanks to Providence, you are all right again."\ +\ +"Where is my fiddle?" asked Phil, anxiously.\ +\ +"It is safe. There it is on the piano."\ +\ +Phil was relieved to see that his faithful companion was safe. He looked\ +upon it as his stock in trade, for without it he would not have known\ +how to make his livelihood.\ +\ +He dressed quickly, and was soon seated at the doctor's well-spread\ +table. He soon showed that, in spite of his exposure and narrow escape\ +from death, he had a hearty appetite. Mrs. Drayton saw him eat with true\ +motherly pleasure, and her natural love of children drew her toward our\ +young hero, and would have done so even had he been less attractive.\ +\ +"Joseph," she said, addressing her husband, "I want to speak to you a\ +moment."\ +\ +He followed her out of the room.\ +\ +"Well, my dear?" he said.\ +\ +"I want to ask a favor."\ +\ +"It is granted in advance."\ +\ +"Perhaps you will not say so when you know what it is."\ +\ +"I can guess it. You want to keep this boy."\ +\ +"Are you willing?"\ +\ +"I would have proposed it, if you had not. He is without friends and\ +poor. We have enough and to spare. We will adopt him in place of our\ +lost Walter."\ +\ +"Thank you, Joseph. It will make me happy. Whatever I do for him, I will\ +do for my lost darling."\ +\ +They went back into the room. They found Phil with his cap on and his\ +fiddle under his arm.\ +\ +"Where are you going, Philip?" asked the doctor.\ +\ +"I am going into the street. I thank you for your kindness."\ +\ +"Would you not rather stay with us?"\ +\ +Phil looked up, uncertain of his meaning.\ +\ +"We had a boy once, but he is dead. Will you stay with us and be our\ +boy?"\ +\ +Phil looked in the kind faces of the doctor and his wife, and his face\ +lighted up with joy at the unexpected prospect of such a home, with\ +people who would be kind to him.\ +\ +"I will stay," he said. "You are very kind to me."\ +\ +So our little hero had drifted into a snug harbor. His toils and\ +privations were over. And for the doctor and his wife it was a glad day\ +also. On Christmas Day four years before they had lost a child. On this\ +Christmas, God had sent them another to fill the void in their hearts.\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XXVI\ +\ +CONCLUSION\ +\ +It was a strange thing for the homeless fiddler to find himself the\ +object of affectionate care and solicitude--to feel, when he woke up in\ +the morning, no anxiety about the day's success. He could not have found\ +a better home. Naturally attractive, and without serious faults, Phil\ +soon won his way to the hearts of the good doctor and his wife. The\ +house seemed brighter for his presence, and the void in the heart of the\ +bereaved mother was partially filled. Her lost Walter would have been of\ +the same age as Phil, had he lived. For his sake she determined to treat\ +the boy, who seemed cast by Providence upon her protection, as a son.\ +\ +To begin with, Phil was carried to the village tailor, where an ample\ +wardrobe was ordered for him. His old clothes were not cast aside, but\ +kept in remembrance of his appearance at the time he came to them. It\ +was a novel sensation for Phil, when, in his new suit, with a satchel of\ +books in his hand, he set out for the town school. It is needless to say\ +that his education was very defective, but he was far from deficient in\ +natural ability, and the progress he made was so rapid that in a year he\ +was on equal footing with the average of boys at his age. He was able at\ +that time to speak English as fluently as his companions, and, but for\ +his dark eyes, and clear brown complexion, he might have been mistaken\ +for an American boy.\ +\ +His popularity with his schoolfellows was instant and decided. His good\ +humor and lively disposition might readily account for that, even if his\ +position as the adopted son of a prominent citizen had no effect. But it\ +was understood that the doctor, who had no near relatives, intended to\ +treat Phil in all respects as a son, even to leaving him his heir.\ +\ +It may be asked whether the padrone gave up all efforts to recover the\ +young fiddler. He was too vindictive for this. Boys had run away from\ +him before, but none had subjected him to such ignominious failure in\ +the effort for their recovery. It would have fared ill with our young\ +hero if he had fallen again into the hands of his unscrupulous enemy.\ +But the padrone was not destined to recover him. Day after day Pietro\ +explored the neighboring towns, but all to no purpose. He only visited\ +the principal towns, while Phil was in a small town, not likely to\ +attract the attention of his pursuers.\ +\ +A week after his signal failure in Newark, the padrone inserted an\ +advertisement in the New York Herald, offering a reward of twenty-five\ +dollars for the recovery of Phil. But our hero was at that time\ +wandering about the country, and the advertisement did not fall under\ +the eyes of those with whom he came in contact. At length the padrone\ +was compelled to own himself baffled and give up the search. He was not\ +without hopes, however, that sometime Phil would turn up. He did hear of\ +him again through Pietro, but not in a way to bring him any nearer his\ +recovery.\ +\ +This is the way it happened:\ +\ +One Saturday morning in March, about three months after Phil had found a\ +home, the doctor said to him: "Phil, I am going to New York this morning\ +on a little business; would you like to come with me?"\ +\ +Phil's eyes brightened. Though he was happy in his village home, he had\ +longed at times to find himself in the city streets with which his old\ +vagabond life had rendered him so familiar.\ +\ +"I should like it very much," he answered, eagerly.\ +\ +"Then run upstairs and get ready. I shall start in fifteen minutes."\ +\ +Phil started, and then turned back.\ +\ +"I might meet Pietro, or the padrone," he said, hesitating.\ +\ +"No matter if you do, I shall be with you. If they attempt to recover\ +you, I will summon the police."\ +\ +The doctor spoke so confidently that Phil dismissed his momentary fear.\ +Two hours later they set foot in New York.\ +\ +"Now, Phil," said the doctor, "my business will not take long. After\ +that, if there are any friends you would like to see, I will go with you\ +and find them."\ +\ +"I should like to see Paul Hoffman," said Phil. "I owe him two dollars\ +and a half for the fiddle."\ +\ +"He shall be paid," said the doctor. "He shall lose nothing by trusting\ +you."\ +\ +An hour afterward, while walking with the doctor in a side street,\ +Phil's attention was attracted by the notes of a hand-organ. Turning in\ +the direction from which they came, he met the glance of his old enemy,\ +Pietro.\ +\ +"It is Pietro," he said, quickly, touching the arm of his companion.\ +\ +Pietro had not been certain till then that it was Phil. It looked like\ +him, to be sure, but his new clothing and general appearance made such\ +a difference between him and the Phil of former days that he would\ +have supposed it only an accidental resemblance. But Phil's evident\ +recognition of him convinced him of his identity. He instantly ceased\ +playing, and, with eager exultation, advanced to capture him. Phil would\ +have been alarmed but for his confidence in the doctor's protection.\ +\ +"I have got you at last, scelerato," said Pietro, roughly, grasping Phil\ +by the shoulder with a hostile glance.\ +\ +The doctor instantly seized him by the collar, and hurled him back.\ +\ +"What do you mean by assaulting my son?" he demanded, coolly.\ +\ +Pietro was rather astonished at this unexpected attack.\ +\ +"He is my brother," he said. "He must go back with me."\ +\ +"He is not your brother. If you touch him again, I will hand you to the\ +police."\ +\ +"He ran away from my uncle," said Pietro.\ +\ +"Your uncle should have treated him better."\ +\ +"He stole a fiddle," said Pietro, doggedly.\ +\ +"He had paid for it over and over again," said the doctor. "Phil, come\ +along. We have no further business with this young man."\ +\ +They walked on, but Pietro followed at a little distance. Seeing this,\ +Dr. Drayton turned back.\ +\ +"Young man," he said, "do you see that policeman across the street?"\ +\ +"Si, signore," answered Pietro.\ +\ +"Then I advise you to go in a different direction, or I shall request\ +him to follow you."\ +\ +Pietro's sallow face was pale with rage. He felt angry enough to tear\ +Phil to pieces, but his rage was unavailing. He had a wholesome fear\ +of the police, and the doctor's threat was effectual. He turned\ +away, though with reluctance, and Phil breathed more freely. Pietro\ +communicated his information to the padrone, and the latter, finding\ +that Phil had found a powerful protector, saw that it would be dangerous\ +for him to carry the matter any further, and sensibly resolved to give\ +up the chase.\ +\ +Of the padrone I have only further to say that some months later he got\ +into trouble. In a low drinking saloon an altercation arose between him\ +and another ruffian one evening, when the padrone, in his rage, drew a\ +knife, and stabbed his adversary. He was arrested and is now serving out\ +his sentence in Sing Sing.\ +\ +Pietro, by arrangement with him, took his place, stipulating to pay\ +him a certain annual sum. But he has taken advantage of his uncle's\ +incarceration to defraud him, and after the first payment neglected to\ +make any returns. It may readily be imagined that this imbitters the\ +padrone's imprisonment. Knowing what I do of his fierce temper, I should\ +not be surprised to hear of a murderous encounter between him and his\ +nephew after his release from imprisonment, unless, as is probable, just\ +before the release, Pietro should flee the country with the ill-gotten\ +gains he may have acquired during his term of office. Meanwhile the boys\ +are treated with scarcely less rigor by him than by his uncle, and toil\ +early and late, suffering hardships and privations, that Pietro may grow\ +rich.\ +\ +Paul Hoffman had often thought of Phil, and how he had fared. He was\ +indeed surprised and pleased when the young fiddler walked up and called\ +him by name.\ +\ +"Phil," he exclaimed, grasping his hand heartily, "I am very glad to see\ +you. Have you made a fortune?"\ +\ +"He has found a father," said Dr. Drayton, speaking for Phil, "who wants\ +to thank you for your past kindness to his son."\ +\ +"It was nothing," said Paul, modestly.\ +\ +"It was a great deal to Phil, for, except your family, he had no\ +friends."\ +\ +To this Paul made a suitable reply, and gave Phil and his new father\ +an earnest invitation to dine with him. This the doctor declined, but\ +agreed to call at the rooms of Mrs. Hoffman, if Paul would agree to come\ +and pass the next Sunday with Phil as his visitor. Paul accepted the\ +invitation with pleasure, and it is needless to say that he received a\ +hearty welcome and agreed, in the approaching summer, to make another\ +visit.\ +\ +And now we bid farewell to Phil, the young, street musician. If his\ +life henceforth shall be less crowded with adventures, and so less\ +interesting, it is because he has been fortunate in securing a good\ +home. Some years hence the Doctor promises to give himself a vacation,\ +and take Phil with him to Europe, where he will seek out his Italian\ +home, and the mother with whom he has already opened communication\ +by letter. So we leave Phil in good hands, and with the prospect of a\ +prosperous career. But there are hundreds of young street musicians\ +who have not met with his good fortune, but are compelled, by hard\ +necessity, to submit to the same privations and hardships from which he\ +is happily relieved. May a brighter day dawn for them also!\ +\ +I hope my readers feel an interest in Paul Hoffman, the young street\ +merchant, who proved so efficient a friend to our young hero. His\ +earlier adventures are chronicled in "Paul, the Peddler." His later\ +history will be chronicled in the next volume of this series, which will\ +be entitled "Slow and Sure; or From the Sidewalk to the Shop."\ +\ +THE END\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Phil the Fiddler, by Horatio Alger, Jr.\ +\ +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PHIL THE FIDDLER ***\ +\ +***** This file should be named 671.txt or 671.zip *****\ +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:\ + http://www.gutenberg.org/6/7/671/\ +\ +Produced by Charles Keller and David Widger\ +\ +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions\ +will be renamed.\ +\ +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no\ +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation\ +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without\ +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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Thus, we do not necessarily\ +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition.\ +\ +\ +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility:\ +\ + http://www.gutenberg.org\ +\ +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm,\ +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary\ +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to\ +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.\ +} \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/the_young_explorer.rtf b/the_young_explorer.rtf new file mode 100644 index 0000000..ce2028a --- /dev/null +++ b/the_young_explorer.rtf @@ -0,0 +1,7094 @@ +{\rtf1\ansi\ansicpg1252\cocoartf1347\cocoasubrtf570 +{\fonttbl\f0\fmodern\fcharset0 Courier;} +{\colortbl;\red255\green255\blue255;\red0\green0\blue0;} +\margl1440\margr1440\vieww10800\viewh8400\viewkind0 +\deftab720 +\pard\pardeftab720 + +\f0\fs24 \cf2 \expnd0\expndtw0\kerning0 +\outl0\strokewidth0 \strokec2 The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Young Explorer, by Horatio Alger\ +\ +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with\ +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or\ +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included\ +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org\ +\ +\ +Title: The Young Explorer\ + or, Claiming His Fortune\ +\ +Author: Horatio Alger\ +\ +Posting Date: June 4, 2012 [EBook #5623]\ +Release Date: May, 2004\ +First Posted: July 24, 2002\ +\ +Language: English\ +\ +\ +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE YOUNG EXPLORER ***\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +Produced by Charles Aldarondo\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +THE YOUNG EXPLORER\ +\ +OR\ +\ +CLAIMING HIS FORTUNE\ +\ +BY\ +\ +HORATIO ALGER, JR.\ +\ +NEW YORK\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CONTENTS.\ +\ +\ +I. Ben's Inheritance\ +\ +II. Deacon Pitkin's Offer\ +\ +III. Sam Sturgis' New Idea\ +\ +IV. A Brilliant Chance\ +\ +V. In Search of a Place\ +\ +VI. Mr. Fitch, The Senior Partner\ +\ +VII. Ben's Dinner Guest\ +\ +VIII. A Strange Acquaintance\ +\ +IX. At the Astor House\ +\ +X. Ben Receives a Call\ +\ +XI. Miss Sinclair's Stratagem\ +\ +XII. In San Francisco\ +\ +XIII. Preliminary Arrangements\ +\ +XIV. The Canon Hotel\ +\ +XV. A Polite Hostess\ +\ +XVI. A New Acquaintance\ +\ +XVII. A Tight Place\ +\ +XVIII. An Evening Call\ +\ +XIX. Ben's Midnight Excursion\ +\ +XX. A Thief's Disappointment\ +\ +XXI. Ben's Savings-Bank\ +\ +XXII. The Arrival at Murphy's\ +\ +XXIII. Among the Sierras\ +\ +XXIV. Beaten at His Own Game\ +\ +XXV. The Horse-Thieves\ +\ +XXVI. What Next?\ +\ +XXVII Ki Sing\ +\ +XXVIII. The Duel of the Miners\ +\ +XXIX. Chinese Cheap Labor\ +\ +XXX. A Midnight Visit\ +\ +XXXI. On the Mountain Path\ +\ +XXXII. The Mountain Cabin\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +THE YOUNG EXPLORER\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER I.\ +\ +BEN'S INHERITANCE.\ +\ +\ +"I've settled up your father's estate, Benjamin," said Job Stanton.\ +"You'll find it all figgered out on this piece of paper. There was\ +that two-acre piece up at Rockville brought seventy-five dollars,\ +the medder fetched a hundred and fifty, the two cows--"\ +\ +"How much does it all come to, Uncle Job?" interrupted Ben, who was\ +impatient of details.\ +\ +"Hadn't you better let me read off the items, nephew?" asked Job,\ +looking over his spectacles.\ +\ +"No, Uncle Job. I know you've done your best for me, and there's no\ +need of your going through it all. How much is there left after all\ +expenses are paid?"\ +\ +"That's what I was a-comin' to, Ben. I make it out that there's\ +three hundred and sixty-five dollars and nineteen cents. That's a\ +dollar for every day in the year. It's a good deal of money, Ben."\ +\ +"So it is, Uncle Job," answered Ben, and he was quite sincere. There\ +are not many boys of sixteen to whom this would not seem a large\ +sum.\ +\ +"You're rich; that is, for a boy," added Uncle Job.\ +\ +"It's more than I expected, uncle. I want you to take fifteen\ +dollars and nineteen cents. That'll leave me just three hundred and\ +fifty."\ +\ +"Why should I take any of your money, nephew?"\ +\ +"You've had considerable trouble in settling up the estate, and it's\ +taken a good deal of your time, too."\ +\ +"My time ain't of much vally, and as to the trouble, it's a pity ef\ +I can't take some trouble for my brother's son. No, Ben, I won't\ +take a cent. You'll need it all."\ +\ +"But you said yourself it was a good deal of money for a boy, Uncle\ +Job."\ +\ +"So it is, but it's all you've got. Most boys have fathers to take\ +care of 'em, while you're alone in the world."\ +\ +"Yes I am alone in the world," said Ben sadly, his cheerful face\ +clouding over.\ +\ +"But you've got an uncle, lad," continued Job Stanton, laying his\ +hand gently on the boy's shoulder. "He's a poor man, but as much as\ +in him lies, he'll be your friend and helper."\ +\ +"I know it, Uncle Job. You've always been kind to me."\ +\ +"And allus will be, Ben. Now, Ben, I've got a plan for you. I don't\ +know what you'll think of it, but it's the best I've been able to\ +think of."\ +\ +"What is it, Uncle Job?"\ +\ +"Ef you'll stay with me and help me in the shop, I'll give you a\ +home, such as it is, and fifty dollars a year toward your clothes.\ +Your Aunt Hannah and your Cousin Jane want you to make your home\ +with us."\ +\ +"I'm very much obliged to you, Uncle Job," said Ben slowly.\ +\ +"You needn't be, boy. It's a sort of mutooal arrangement. It'll be\ +as good for me as for you. You can put your money in the bank, and\ +let it stay till you're twenty-one. Why, it'll be nigh on to five\ +hunderd dollars by that time."\ +\ +"I'm much obliged to you, Uncle Job, as I said before, but there's\ +one thing in the way."\ +\ +"What's that, Ben?"\ +\ +"I don't like shoemaking."\ +\ +"Perhaps it isn't genteel enough for you, Ben," said his uncle.\ +\ +"I don't care for that, Uncle Job, but I don't like being shut up in\ +a shop. Besides, it doesn't give steady work. Last year you were\ +without work at least a third of the time."\ +\ +"So I was, Ben," said Job. "I'm willin' to own that's a great\ +drawback."\ +\ +"And it isn't likely to be any better hereafter. Last year was as\ +good as the average."\ +\ +"It was better," Job admitted. "The year before I was out of work\ +five months."\ +\ +"Well, Uncle Job, I want to work at something that'll give me\ +employment all the year round."\ +\ +"So do I, Ben, but I don't see what you can find, unless you go to\ +work on a farm. You're used to that, and I guess you could find a\ +chance before long. There's Deacon Pitkin wants a boy, and would be\ +glad of the chance of gettin' you."\ +\ +"I suppose he would," said Ben, laughing. "Would you advise me to go\ +there?"\ +\ +"Well, there might be some objections, but-"\ +\ +"You know I wouldn't get enough to eat, Uncle Job," interrupted\ +Ben. "Why, Deacon Pitkin's the meanest man in the village."\ +\ +"You mustn't be hasty in your judgments, nephew."\ +\ +"I'm not. I know what I'm talking about. I worked for the deacon two\ +days once. He gave me ten cents a day and board-and such board! Why,\ +I got up from the table hungry every meal, and yet the deacon\ +reported afterward that I was a great eater. Mrs. Pitkin cuts a\ +small pie into eight pieces, each about two mouthfuls, and when I\ +asked for a second piece, she asked if I was allowed to have two\ +pieces at home."\ +\ +"What did you say?" asked Uncle Job, evidently amused.\ +\ +"I said yes, and that each piece was twice as big as she gave."\ +\ +"I'm afraid that was rather forward, Ben. Did she say anything to\ +that?"\ +\ +"She said I must be very greedy, and that boys always ate more'n was\ +good for 'em. No, Uncle Job, I don't care to work for Deacon\ +Pitkin."\ +\ +"Have you formed any plans, Ben? You don't want to go on a farm, and\ +you don't want to go into a shoeshop, and that's about all you can\ +find to do in Hampton."\ +\ +"I don't mean to stay in Hampton," said Ben quietly.\ +\ +"Don't mean to stay in Hampton!" exclaimed Uncle Joe, amazed.\ +\ +"No, uncle. There's a good many places besides Hampton in the\ +world."\ +\ +"So there is, Ben," answered Uncle Job, with a disregard of grammar\ +more excusable than his nephew's, for he had never had any special\ +educational advantages,-"so there is, but you don't know anybody in\ +them other places."\ +\ +"It won't take me long to get acquainted," returned Ben, not at all\ +disturbed by this consideration.\ +\ +"Where do you want to go?"\ +\ +"I want to go to California."\ +\ +"Gracious sakes! Want to go to California!" gasped Job. "What put\ +that idee into your head?"\ +\ +"A good many people are going there, and there's a chance to get\ +rich quick out among the gold-mines."\ +\ +"But you're only a boy."\ +\ +"I'm a pretty large boy, Uncle Job," said Ben complacently, "and I'm\ +pretty strong."\ +\ +"So you be, Ben, but it takes more than strength."\ +\ +"What more, Uncle Job?"\ +\ +"It takes judgment."\ +\ +"Can't a boy have judgment?"\ +\ +"Waal, he may have some, but you don't often find an old head on\ +young shoulders."\ +\ +"I know all that, uncle, but I can work if I am a boy."\ +\ +"I know you're willin' to work, Ben, but it'll cost a sight of money\ +to get out to Californy to start with."\ +\ +"I know that. It will take two hundred dollars."\ +\ +"And that's more'n half of all you've got. It seems to me temptin'\ +Providence to spend such a sight of money for the chance of earning\ +some on t'other side of the world, when you can get a livin' here\ +and put all your money in the bank."\ +\ +"In five years it would only amount to five hundred dollars, and if\ +I go to California, I expect to be worth a good deal more than that\ +before two years are past."\ +\ +"I'm afraid you've got large idees, Ben."\ +\ +"You won't interfere with my going, Uncle Job?" asked Ben anxiously.\ +\ +"I won't actooly interfere, but I'll do all I can to have you give\ +it up."\ +\ +"But if my mind is set upon it, you'll let me go, won't you, uncle?"\ +\ +"I suppose I must," said Job Stanton. "A wilful lad must have his\ +way. But you mustn't blame me if things turn out unlucky."\ +\ +"No, I shall only blame myself."\ +\ +"There's one promise you must make me," said his uncle.\ +\ +"What is that?"\ +\ +"Take a week to consider whether you hadn't better take my advice\ +and stay at home."\ +\ +"Yes, uncle, I'll promise that."\ +\ +"And you'll think it over in all its bearin's?"\ +\ +"Yes, uncle."\ +\ +"It ain't best to take any important step without reflection, Ben."\ +"You're right, uncle."\ +\ +This conversation took place in Job Stanton's little shoe-shop, only\ +a rod distant from the small, plain house which he had occupied ever\ +since he had been married. It was interrupted by the appearance of a\ +pretty girl of fourteen, who, presenting herself at the door of the\ +shop, called out:\ +\ +"Supper's ready, father."\ +\ +"So are we, Jennie," said Ben, promptly.\ +\ +"You are always ready to eat, Ben," said his cousin, smiling.\ +\ +"That's what Mrs. Pitkin used to think, Jennie. She used to watch\ +every mouthful I took."\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER II.\ +\ +DEACON PITKIN'S OFFER.\ +\ +\ +Ben's father had died three months before. He had lost his mother\ +when ten years old, and having neither brother nor sister was left\ +quite alone in the world. At one time his father had possessed a few\ +thousand dollars, but by unlucky investments he had lost nearly all,\ +so that Ben's inheritance amounted to less than four hundred\ +dollars.\ +\ +This thought troubled Mr. Stanton, and on his death-bed he spoke\ +about it to his son.\ +\ +"I shall leave you almost destitute, Ben," he said. "If I had acted\ +more wisely it would have been different."\ +\ +"Don't trouble yourself about that, father," said Ben promptly. "I\ +am young and strong, and I shall be sure to get along."\ +\ +"You will have to work hard, and the world is a hard taskmaster."\ +\ +"I don't feel afraid, father. I am sure I shall succeed."\ +\ +The dying father was cheered by Ben's confident words. Our hero was\ +strong and sturdy, his limbs active, and his face ruddy with health.\ +He looked like a boy who could get along. He was not a sensitive\ +plant, and not to be discouraged by rebuffs. The father's brow\ +cleared.\ +\ +"I am glad you are not afraid to meet what is in store for you," he\ +said. "I believe you will do your part, and God helps those who help\ +themselves."\ +\ +After his father's death, Ben became an inmate of his uncle's family\ +while the estate was being settled. He paid for his board partly by\ +work in the shop, and partly by doing chores. This brings us to the\ +day when the conversation detailed in the first chapter took place.\ +\ +On the following morning Ben was sent on an errand to the village\ +store. On his way he overtook Deacon Pitkin.\ +\ +"Good mornin', Ben!" said the deacon. "Where are you goin'?"\ +\ +"To the store, sir."\ +\ +"So am I. Ef you ain't in a hurry, le'ss walk along together."\ +\ +"All right, sir," answered Ben. "I think I know what's comin," he\ +said to himself.\ +\ +"You're stayin' at your Uncle Job's, ain't you?" asked Deacon\ +Pitkin.\ +\ +"Yes, sir."\ +\ +"You don't calc'late to keep on there, do you?"\ +\ +"No, sir; he would like to have me stay and work in the shop, but I\ +don't fancy shoemaking."\ +\ +"Jest so. I wouldn't ef I was you. It's an onsartin business.\ +There's nothin' like farmin' for stiddy work."\ +\ +"The old man kept me at work pretty stiddy," thought Ben. "He'd\ +always find something for me to do."\ +\ +"'Ive been thinkin' that I need a boy about your age to help me on\ +my farm. I ain't so young as I was, and I've got a crick in my back.\ +I don't want a man-"\ +\ +"You'd have to pay him too high wages," Ben said to himself.\ +\ +"A strong, capable boy like you could give me all the help I need."\ +\ +"I expect I could," said Ben demurely.\ +\ +"I was sayin' to Mrs. Pitkin this mornin' that I thought it would be\ +a good plan to take you till you was twenty-one."\ +\ +"What did she say?" asked Ben, interested.\ +\ +"Waal, she didn't say much," answered the deacon slowly; "but I\ +guess she hasn't no objections."\ +\ +"Didn't she say that I had an awful appetite?" asked Ben, smiling.\ +\ +"She said you was pretty hearty," answered the deacon, rather\ +surprised at Ben's penetration. "Boys should curb their appetites."\ +\ +"I don't think I could curb mine," said Ben thoughtfully.\ +\ +"I guess there wouldn't be any trouble about that," returned the\ +deacon, whose meanness ran in a different channel from his wife's,\ +and who took less note of what was eaten at his table. "Ef you think\ +you'd like to engage, and we could make a bargain, you might begin\ +next week."\ +\ +"Jest so," said Ben.\ +\ +The deacon looked at him rather sharply, but Ben didn't appear to\ +intend any disrespect in repeating his favorite phrase.\ +\ +"Did your father leave you much?" inquired Deacon Pitkin.\ +\ +"A few hundred dollars," said Ben carelessly.\ +\ +"Indeed!" said the deacon, gratified. "What are you goin' to do with\ +it?"\ +\ +"Uncle Job thinks it would be best to put it in the bank."\ +\ +"Jest so. It would fetch you some interest every year-enough to\ +clothe you, likely. I'll tell you what I'll do, Ben. I'll give you\ +your board the first year, and your interest will buy your clothes.\ +The second year I'll give you twenty dollars and board, and maybe\ +twenty more the third year."\ +\ +Ben shook his head.\ +\ +"I guess we can't make a bargain, Deacon Pitkin," he said.\ +\ +Deacon Pitkin knew that he had made a very mean offer, and felt that\ +he could afford to increase it somewhat; but he was a close hand at\ +a bargain, and meant to get Ben as cheap as he could.\ +\ +"What was you expectin'?" he asked cautiously. "You must remember\ +that you're only a boy, and can't expect men's wages."\ +\ +Ben had no idea, as we know, of engaging to work for Deacon Pitkin\ +at all; but he decided that the easiest way to avoid it was to put\ +such a value on his services as to frighten the old man.\ +\ +"I am almost as strong as a man," he said, "and I can earn a great\ +deal more than my board the first year."\ +\ +"I might be willin' to give you twenty dollars the first year," said\ +the deacon.\ +\ +"I've been thinking," said Ben soberly, "that I ought to have a\ +hundred and fifty dollars and board the first year."\ +\ +Deacon Pitkin fairly gasped for breath. He was fairly overpowered by\ +Ben's audacity.\ +\ +"A-hundred-and-fifty-dollars!" he ejaculated, turning his wrinkled\ +face toward our hero.\ +\ +"That's about the figure," said Ben cheerfully. "A hundred and fifty\ +dollars and board, or three hundred dollars, and I'll board with my\ +uncle."\ +\ +"Is the boy crazy?" asked the deacon, in a bewildered tone.\ +\ +"You'd have to pay a man as much as twenty dollars a month," pursued\ +Ben. "That's about a hundred dollars a year more."\ +\ +"Benjamin," said the deacon solemnly, "do you want to ruin me?"\ +\ +"No, sir, I hope not," answered our hero innocently.\ +\ +"Then why do you ask such an unheard-of price?"\ +\ +"I think I'm worth it," said Ben.\ +\ +"Boys haven't much jedgment," said the deacon. "You'd better let me\ +talk over this matter with your Uncle Job."\ +\ +"It won't be any use, Deacon Pitkin. Uncle Job won't interfere with\ +me."\ +\ +"You can't get such wages anywhere. You'll have to work for less."\ +\ +"Perhaps I can't get my price in Hampton," said Ben.\ +\ +"Of course you can't. There ain't no one goin' to pay you men's\ +wages."\ +\ +"Perhaps you are right, Deacon Pitkin. In that case, my mind is made\ +up."\ +\ +"What will you do?" asked the deacon, showing some curiosity.\ +\ +"I'll leave town."\ +\ +"It's a resky thing, Benjamin. You ain't old enough to take care of\ +yourself."\ +\ +"I think I can do it. Deacon Pitkin. I am not afraid to try. Still,\ +if you'll give me a hundred and fifty dollars and board--"\ +\ +"You must think I'm crazy," said the deacon hastily. "I don't throw\ +money away that way."\ +\ +"Then I'm afraid we can't make a bargain, deacon. Here is the store,\ +and I'll bid you good morning."\ +\ +"If you think better of my offer, you can let me know, Benjamin. You\ +can talk it over with your uncle."\ +\ +"All right, sir. If you think better of mine, just let me know\ +within a week, or I may be gone from Hampton."\ +\ +"That's a cur'us boy," said the deacon meditatively. "He's got the\ +most conceited idea of his vally to work of any boy I ever came\ +across. A hundred and fifty dollars and board! What'll Mrs. Pitkin\ +say when I tell her? She ain't much sot on the boy's comin' anyway.\ +She thinks he's too hearty; but I don't mind that, so much. He's\ +strong and good to work, an' he's the only boy in town that would\ +suit me."\ +\ +"I wonder what the deacon thinks of me," soliloquized Ben. "I\ +thought I should scare him a little when I named my price. If I'd\ +thought he would take me at that figure, I'd have said more. It\ +wouldn't suit me to work for him at all."\ +\ +In the evening Deacon Pitkin came over to see Job Stanton, and\ +renewed his offer for Ben's services.\ +\ +"The boy's got wild idees about pay," he said; "but boys haven't\ +much jedgment. You're a sensible man, Mr. Stanton, and you and me\ +can make a fair bargain."\ +\ +"It won't be of much use, Deacon Pitkin. Ben's got his idees, an' he\ +sticks to 'em."\ +\ +"But you're his uncle. You can make him see his true interest."\ +\ +"Ben's young," said Job, suspending his work; "but he's got to look\ +out for himself. He may make mistakes, but I've promised not to\ +interfere. I've got confidence in him that he'll come out right in\ +the end. Truth is, deacon, he don't want to work at farmin', and\ +that's why he asked you such a steep price. He knew you wouldn't\ +agree to give it."\ +\ +This put the matter in a new light, and Deacon Pitkin reluctantly\ +concluded that he must abandon the idea of obtaining Ben as a helper\ +on his farm.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER III.\ +\ +SAM STURGIS' NEW IDEA.\ +\ +\ +During the week which Ben had agreed to take before coming to a\ +final decision, he had another offer of employment.\ +\ +This is how it came about:\ +\ +A little out of the village, in a handsome house, the best in\ +Hampton, lived Major Sturgis, a wealthy landholder, who had plenty\ +to live upon and nothing in particular to do, except to look after\ +his property. He was a portly man, who walked with a slow, dignified\ +step, leaning on a gold-headed cane, and evidently felt his\ +importance. His son, Sam, was a chip of the old block. He\ +condescended to associate with the village boys, because solitary\ +grandeur is not altogether pleasant. He occasionally went to New\ +York to visit a cousin of about his own age. From such a visit he\ +had just returned, bringing back with him a new idea.\ +\ +"Father," he said, "Cousin Henry has a boy about his own age to wait\ +on him, black his boots, and run errands."\ +\ +"Has he?" asked the major mechanically, not looking up from the\ +daily paper which he was reading.\ +\ +"Yes, sir. He don't pay him much, you know, only five dollars a\ +month and his board, and Henry finds it very convenient."\ +\ +Major Sturgis did not reply. In fact, he was too much interested in\ +the article he was reading.\ +\ +"Ain't you as rich as uncle?" asked Sam, who was gradually leading\ +up to his proposal.\ +\ +"Yes, Sam, I think so," answered his father, laying down the paper\ +and removing his gold-bowed spectacles.\ +\ +"Then why won't you let me have a servant, too?"\ +\ +"What do you want of a servant? There are servants enough in the\ +house."\ +\ +"I want a boy to follow me round, and do just what I bid him."\ +\ +"I don't see any necessity for it."\ +\ +"He could do errands for you, too, father," said Sam diplomatically.\ +\ +"We would have to send to the city for a boy, in case I let you have\ +one."\ +\ +"No, we wouldn't," answered Sam.\ +\ +"Do you know of any one around here?"\ +\ +"Yes; there is Ben Stanton. He's got to find something to do."\ +\ +"I thought you didn't like Ben Stanton," said the major, in some\ +surprise. "I have heard you say-"\ +\ +"Oh, he's rather uppish-feels too big for a poor boy; but I would\ +soon train him. I'd make him know his place."\ +\ +"Your remarks are well founded, my son. Only yesterday I met the boy\ +on the village street, and instead of taking off his hat and making\ +a low bow, as he should do to a man of my position, he nodded\ +carelessly, and said. 'How are you, major?' Really, I don't know\ +what the country is coming to, when the rising generation is so\ +deficient in veneration."\ +\ +"The fact is, father, Ben thinks himself as good as anybody. You'd\ +think, by the way he speaks to me, that he considered himself my\ +equal."\ +\ +"That is one of the evils incident to a republican form of\ +government," said the major pompously. "For my part, I prefer the\ +English social system, where the gentry are treated with proper\ +deference."\ +\ +"Well, father, may I engage Ben as my servant?"\ +\ +"I am afraid you would not find him properly subordinate."\ +\ +"Just leave that to me," said Sam confidently. "If I can't teach him\ +his place, then nobody can. I should enjoy having him to order\ +about."\ +\ +Sam generally carried his point with his father, and the present\ +instance was no exception.\ +\ +"I don't know that I have any particular objection," said the major.\ +\ +"How much wages may I offer, father?"\ +\ +"The same that your Cousin Henry's servant gets."\ +\ +"All right, sir," said Sam, with satisfaction. "I guess I'll go\ +round, and see him about it this afternoon. I suppose he can come\ +any time?"\ +\ +"Yes, my son."\ +\ +As Sam went out of the room his father thought, complacently:\ +\ +"My son has all the pride and instincts of a gentleman. He will do\ +credit to the family."\ +\ +Few persons in the village would have agreed with the major. Sam\ +Sturgis was decidedly unpopular. No boy who puts on airs is likely\ +to be a favorite with any class of persons, and Sam put on rather\ +more than he was entitled to. From time to time he received a\ +rebuff, but still money will tell. He had his followers and\ +sycophants, but we may be sure that Ben was not numbered among them.\ +It was quite useless for Sam to patronize him-he would not be\ +patronized, but persisted in treating the major's son with the most\ +exasperating familiarity. Of course this would be impossible if he\ +became Sam's servant, and this more than anything else was the\ +motive of the young aristocrat in wishing to engage him. As to\ +conferring a favor on Ben, that was the last thing in his thoughts.\ +\ +Sam bent his steps toward the humble home of Job Stanton, but he did\ +not have to go the whole distance. He met Ben with a fishing-pole\ +over his shoulder.\ +\ +"How are you, Sam?" was Ben's familiar greeting. "Want to go fishing\ +with me?"\ +\ +"He's entirely too familiar," thought Sam. "I'll cure him of that\ +when he is under my orders."\ +\ +At present Sam did not think it politic to express his feelings on\ +the subject. Ben was so independent that it might frustrate his\ +plan.\ +\ +"I will walk along with you, Ben," said Sam condescendingly.\ +\ +"All right. Haven't you got a fishing-pole at home?"\ +\ +"Yes, I have a very handsome one; it cost five dollars."\ +\ +"Then it's rather ahead of mine," said Ben.\ +\ +"I should say so," remarked Sam, surveying Ben's pole with contempt.\ +\ +"But I'll bet you can't catch as many fish with it," said Ben\ +promptly. "I don't think it makes much difference to the fish," he\ +added, with a laugh, "whther they are caught with a five-dollar pole\ +or a five-cent one."\ +\ +"Very likely," said Sam briefly, "but I prefer to use a nice pole."\ +\ +"Oh, there's no objection," said Ben, "if you fancy it. It doesn't\ +make any difference to me."\ +\ +"When are you going to work?" asked Sam abruptly.\ +\ +"I am working every day-that is, I am helping Uncle Job."\ +\ +"But I suppose you mean to get regular work somewhere, don't you?"\ +\ +"What's he after, I wonder?" thought Ben. "Maybe I do," he said\ +aloud.\ +\ +"Perhaps I can throw something in your way," said Sam, in a\ +patronizing way.\ +\ +"You are very kind," said Ben, who supposed Sam had heard of some\ +business position which he could fill. Our hero decided that perhaps\ +he had misjudged the major's son, and he was prepared to make\ +amends. "If you get me a position, I shall be much obliged."\ +\ +"The fact is," said Sam, "I should find it convenient to have a boy\ +go about with me, and be at my orders. My Cousin Henry has one, and\ +father says I may engage you."\ +\ +Ben faced round, and looked steadily at Sam. He felt that he would\ +far rather work for Deacon Pitkin, in spite of his meager table, or\ +toil twelve hours a day in his uncle's shoe-shop, than accept such a\ +place as was now offered him. He penetrated Sam's motive, and felt\ +incensed with him, though he did not choose to show it.\ +\ +"What are you willing to pay?" asked Ben, in a businesslike tone.\ +\ +"Five dollars a month and your board," said Sam. "You'll live better\ +than you ever did before in your life, and your duties will be\ +easy."\ +\ +"What would you want me to do?" asked Ben.\ +\ +"Why, I would take you with me whenever I went out rowing or\ +fishing. That would be easy enough. Then, in the morning you would\ +black my shoes and keep my clothes well brushed, and go of any\ +errands I had for you. Oh, well, I can't tell you all you would have\ +to do, but you'd have an easy time."\ +\ +"Yes, I don't think it would tire me out," said Ben. "You'd want me\ +to black your boots?"\ +\ +"Yes."\ +\ +"Well, I might agree to that on one condition."\ +\ +"What is that?"\ +\ +"That you would black mine."\ +\ +"What do you mean?" demanded Sam, his face flushing angrily.\ +\ +"Just what I say."\ +\ +"Do you mean to insult me?"\ +\ +"Not a bit; any more than you mean to insult me,"\ +\ +"Do you dare to propose that I, a gentleman, should black your\ +low-lived shoes?" exclaimed Sam furiously.\ +\ +"I think you're rather hard on my shoes," said Ben, laughing. "I'll\ +come for four dollars a month, if you'll do that."\ +\ +"I never heard such impudence," said Sam, in concentrated wrath. "I\ +never was so repaid for kindness before."\ +\ +"Look here, Sam," said Ben, "I understand just how kind you are. You\ +want the satisfaction of ordering me round, and you can't have it. I\ +decline your offer. I'd rather beg for bread than accept it."\ +\ +"You may starve, for all me," said Sam. "It's ridiculous for a poor\ +boy to put on such airs. You'll die in the poorhouse yet."\ +\ +"I won't live there, if I can help it. What! are you going to leave\ +me?"\ +\ +"I won't condescend to be seen with you."\ +\ +"Good-by, Sam. I hope you won't have to black your own boots."\ +\ +Sam did not deign a reply.\ +\ +"He looks mad," thought Ben. "I'd live on one meal a day rather than\ +let him order me round."\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER IV.\ +\ +A BRILLIANT CHANCE.\ +\ +\ +The week was over, and Ben persisted in his determination to leave\ +Hampton.\ +\ +"I'm sorry you are going, Ben," said his Cousin Jennie. "I shall\ +miss you awfully."\ +\ +As Jennie was the prettiest girl in the village, though she did not\ +inherit any good looks from her plain-looking father, Ben was\ +gratified.\ +\ +"You'd forget me soon," he said.\ +\ +"No, I won't."\ +\ +"Especially when Sam Sturgis comes round to see you."\ +\ +"I don't want to see him. He's a stuck-up boy, and thinks himself\ +too good to associate with common people."\ +\ +"He wanted to have me black his boots," said Ben.\ +\ +"He isn't fit to black yours," said Jennie energetically.\ +\ +"Oh, yes, he is," said Ben, laughing. "That's where you and I\ +disagree."\ +\ +"I guess we both mean about the same thing," said Jennie, who saw\ +the point.\ +\ +Ben's resolve to go to California was modified by an advertisement\ +in a New York daily paper which he saw at the village tavern.\ +\ +It ran thus:\ +\ +"Wanted, six boys, from fifteen to eighteen years of age, to fill\ +positions of trust. Ten dollars per week will be paid; but a deposit\ +of fifty dollars is required as a guarantee of honesty. This sum\ +will be repaid at the close of term of service. Address Fitch &\ +Perguson, No.--Nassau Street."\ +\ +This advertisement looked quite attractive to Ben. He copied it, and\ +showed it to Uncle Job.\ +\ +"Isn't that a good chance, Uncle Job?" he said. "Just think! Ten\ +dollars a week!"\ +\ +"You'd have to pay your board out of it," said his uncle.\ +\ +"I know that, but my board wouldn't cost more than four dollars a\ +week. That would leave me six."\ +\ +"So it would. I declare it does seem to be a good chance. Maybe\ +they've got all the boys they want."\ +\ +"Why, you see, uncle, there's a good many boys that couldn't pay the\ +deposit money. That would limit the number of applicants. Now, I\ +have the money, and I guess I'd better write to New York at once\ +about it."\ +\ +"Maybe you had, Ben."\ +\ +Ben immediately procured a sheet of paper and wrote to the\ +advertisers, stating that he would like the position, and assuring\ +them of his ability to furnish the required sum. The letter went to\ +New York by the afternoon mail.\ +\ +Naturally Ben was a little excited and suffered a little from\ +suspense. He feared that all the places would be filled, and such\ +another chance was hardly to be expected again very soon. However,\ +on Monday morning he was gratified by the receipt of the following\ +letter:\ +\ +"No.--NASSAU STREET, NEW YORK.\ +\ +"MR. BENJAMIN STANTON: Your letter of yesterday is at hand.\ +Fortunately we have one vacancy, the other places being already\ +filled. We have rejected three applicants for it on account of\ +unsatisfactory penmanship. Yours, however, is up to the mark, and we\ +will engage you on the strength of it. It will be necessary for you\ +to report as soon as possible at our office for duty. We require the\ +deposit on account of the sums of money which you will handle. We do\ +not doubt your honesty, but it seems desirable that you should\ +furnish a guarantee, particularly as we pay a much larger salary\ +than is usually given to young clerks.\ +\ +"Yours respectfully,\ +\ +"FITCH & FERGUSON.\ +\ +"P. S. Your engagement will not commence until the fifty dollars are\ +in our hands."\ +\ +Ben was quite elated by his success.\ +\ +"I must start to-morrow morning," he said, "or I shall be in danger\ +of losing the place."\ +\ +"It seems very sudden," said his aunt. "I am afraid I sha'n't have\ +time to get your clothes ready. Some are dirty, and others need\ +mending. If I'd had a little notice-"\ +\ +"It won't make any difference, Aunt Sarah," said Ben. "I'll take a\ +few clothes in a carpetbag, and you can send the rest by express\ +when they are ready."\ +\ +"Yes, Sarah, that will be the best way," said Uncle Job. "Ben don't\ +want to run the risk of losing the place by delay."\ +\ +Mrs. Stanton acquiesced rather unwillingly, and for the remainder of\ +the day Ben was busy making preparations to leave his country home.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER V.\ +\ +IN SEARCH OF A PLACE.\ +\ +\ +Ben took the early train to New York on Tuesday morning, and in due\ +time arrived in the city. He carried with him seventy-five dollars\ +out of his small patrimony. Fifty were to be deposited with Messrs.\ +Fitch & Ferguson, as required, and the balance was to defray his\ +expenses till he began to receive a salary. Ben didn't expect to\ +need much of it, for at the end of a week he would be paid ten\ +dollars for his services, and until then he meant to be very\ +economical.\ +\ +Ben had only been in New York twice before, but he happened to know\ +his way to Nassau Street, and went there at once, with his carpetbag\ +in his hand.\ +\ +As he entered Nassau Street from Printing-House\ +\ +Square, a bootblack accosted him.\ +\ +"How are you, country?"\ +\ +"Are you very anxious to know?" asked Ben, stopping short.\ +\ +"Yes."\ +\ +"I'm well enough and strong enough to give you a licking."\ +\ +"Good for you, country! Have you come to stay long?"\ +\ +Ben laughed. He concluded not to take offense, but to answer\ +seriously.\ +\ +"That depends on whether I get the place I am after."\ +\ +"What is that?" asked the bootblack, in a friendly tone.\ +\ +Now, on the way to the city, Ben had overheard a conversation\ +between two gentlemen, relative to certain swindlers in New York,\ +which, for the first time, had aroused in him a suspicion that\ +possibly there might be something wrong about the firm whose\ +advertisement he had answered. He felt the need of an adviser, and\ +though his choice may be considered rather a strange one, he decided\ +to consult his new acquaintance, the bootblack. He briefly told him\ +of the advertisement, and what it offered.\ +\ +The bootblack surveyed him with pitying curiosity.\ +\ +"You don't mean to say you swallow all that?" he said.\ +\ +"Don't you think it's all right?" asked Ben anxiously.\ +\ +"Look here," said the street boy, "do you think anybody's going to\ +pay a boy ten dollars a week, when there's hundreds ready to work\ +for three or four? Why, a man in Pearl Street advertised last week\ +for a boy at three dollars, and there was a whole shoal of boys went\ +for it. I was one of 'em."\ +\ +"Don't you earn more than that by your business?"\ +\ +"Sometimes I do, but it ain't stiddy, and I'd rather have a place."\ +\ +"Why do they advertise to give ten dollars, then?" asked our hero.\ +\ +"They want to get hold of your fifty dollars," said the bootblack.\ +"Them fellers is beats, that's what they are."\ +\ +"What had I better do?" asked Ben, in perplexity.\ +\ +"Go and see 'em, and have a talk. If they're not after your fifty\ +dollars, you'll know what it means."\ +\ +"It may be all right, after all," said Ben, who did not like to give\ +up hope.\ +\ +"I may be General Grant," retorted the bootblack, "but if I know\ +myself I ain't."\ +\ +"Well, I'll go round and talk with them. Where can I meet you\ +afterwards?"\ +\ +"I'll be standin' here, if you ain't gone too long."\ +\ +"What's your name?"\ +\ +"Tom Cooper."\ +\ +"I am Ben Stanton. Thank you for your advice."\ +\ +"You're a good feller if you do come from the country. Just look out\ +for them fellers. Don't let 'em hook you in."\ +\ +"All right, Tom."\ +\ +Ben moved on, watching the numbers as he walked slowly along, till\ +he came to the one mentioned in the advertisement. There was a\ +hallway and a staircase, with a directory of persons occupying\ +offices on the floors above. From this Ben ascertained that Fitch &\ +Ferguson occupied Room 17, on the fourth floor.\ +\ +"I wonder what business they are in," thought our hero as he mounted\ +the stairs. "They must have considerable or they wouldn't need so\ +many boys-that is, if they are on the square."\ +\ +Presently he stood in front of a door bearing the number 17.\ +\ +He knocked for admittance.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER VI.\ +\ +MR. PITCH, THE SENIOR PARTNER.\ +\ +\ +"Come in," said a loud voice.\ +\ +Ben opened the door and entered.\ +\ +He found himself in a square room, almost bare of furniture. In an\ +office chair at a table sat a dark-complexioned man of near forty.\ +He appeared to be reading the morning paper.\ +\ +"Is this the office of Fitch & Ferguson?" inquired Ben.\ +\ +A glance at Ben's carpetbag indicated that he had come in answer to\ +the advertisement, and he was received very graciously.\ +\ +"Come in," said the man in the chair, smiling affably. "This is the\ +office of Fitch & Ferguson. I am Mr. Fitch."\ +\ +"My name is Stanton-Ben Stanton," said our hero. "I wrote you from\ +Hampton about your advertisement."\ +\ +"For a boy at ten dollars a week?" suggested the dark man, with a\ +pleasant smile.\ +\ +"Yes, sir."\ +\ +"We agreed to take you, did we not?" asked Mr. Fitch.\ +\ +"Yes, sir."\ +\ +"Have you had any business experience?" inquired Pitch.\ +\ +"No, sir."\ +\ +"I am sorry for that," said Mr. Fitch gravely. "Experience is\ +important. I am not sure whether we ought to pay you ten dollars a\ +week."\ +\ +Ben did not reply. He was not so much concerned about the amount of\ +his compensation as about the reliable character of Fitch &\ +Ferguson.\ +\ +"Still," mused Mr. Fitch, "you look like a boy who would learn fast.\ +What do you think about it yourself?"\ +\ +"I think I could," answered Ben. "I should try to serve you\ +faithfully."\ +\ +"That is well. We want to be served faithfully," said Mr. Fitch.\ +\ +"What kind of a business is it?" Ben ventured to ask, surveying the\ +empty office with a puzzled look, which Mr. Fitch observed and\ +interpreted aright.\ +\ +"We do a commission business," he said. "Of course, we keep no stock\ +of goods here. Business is not done in the city, my young friend, as\ +it is in the country."\ +\ +"No, I suppose not," returned our hero.\ +\ +"Without entering into details as to the character of our business,"\ +said Mr. Fitch, "I may say that you would be chiefly employed in\ +making collections. It is because considerable sums of money would\ +pass through your hands that we require a deposit in order to\ +protect ourselves. By the way, have you the fifty dollars with you?"\ +\ +Ben admitted that he had.\ +\ +Mr. Fitch's face brightened up, for he had not felt quite sure of\ +that.\ +\ +"I am glad to hear of it," he said. "It shows that you mean\ +business. You may hand it to me, and I will give you a receipt for\ +it."\ +\ +"I would like to ask you one or two questions first," said Ben,\ +making no movement toward his pocket.\ +\ +Mr. Fitch frowned.\ +\ +"Really, I fail to catch your meaning," he said, in a changed tone.\ +"Do you wish to enter my employ, or do you not?"\ +\ +"I should like to earn ten dollars a week."\ +\ +"Precisely. Then all you have to do is to hand me the fifty dollars\ +and go to work."\ +\ +"You might keep me only a week," suggested Ben.\ +\ +"We shall keep you if you suit us, and you can if you try. If you\ +are discharged, we give you back your money, and pay you for the\ +time you work for us. That is fair, isn't it?"\ +\ +"Yes, sir."\ +\ +"Then we may as well settle the matter at once," and he waited for\ +Ben to draw forth his money. Our hero would, undoubtedly, have done\ +so, if he had not been cautioned by Tom Cooper. As it was, he could\ +not help feeling suspicious.\ +\ +"I should like to propose something to you, sir," he said.\ +\ +"What is it?" asked Fitch impatiently.\ +\ +"Suppose you keep five dollars a week out of my wages for ten\ +weeks-that'll make fifty dollars-and only pay it to me when I leave\ +you."\ +\ +"Young man," said Mr. Fitch sternly, "this is trifling, and my time\ +is too valuable for such discussion. Have you, or have you not,\ +brought fifty dollars with you?"\ +\ +"I have."\ +\ +"Then you can secure the place-a place such as few New York boys are\ +fortunate enough to fill. You must decide for yourself."\ +\ +He threw himself back in his chair and looked at Ben.\ +\ +"He seems very anxious about the money," thought our hero, "and I\ +don't see any signs of any business. I'd better back out."\ +\ +"There are plenty of boys who want the place," continued Fitch,\ +trying to look indifferent.\ +\ +"I guess you can give it to one of them," said Ben coolly.\ +\ +Mr. Fitch could not conceal his disappointment. The fifty dollars\ +had a great attraction for him. He saw that Ben was in earnest, for\ +he was already opening the door to go out. He must make an effort to\ +detain him.\ +\ +"Wait a moment, my young friend. I like your appearance, and we may\ +be disposed to take you on a little easier terms. Fifty dollars is\ +probably a large sum to you."\ +\ +Ben admitted that it was.\ +\ +"Probably your means are limited?"\ +\ +"Yes, sir; I am a poor boy."\ +\ +"Just so. I will then relax our rules a little in your case. Of\ +course, you won't mention it to our other boys, as it might create\ +dissatisfaction."\ +\ +"No, sir."\ +\ +"We will take you on a deposit of forty dollars, then."\ +\ +Ben shook his head, and moved as if to depart.\ +\ +"In fact," said Mr. Fitch hastily, "I believe I will say thirty\ +dollars, Though I am afraid my partner will blame me."\ +\ +Ben was not versed in city ways, but now he distrusted Mr. Fitch\ +more than ever.\ +\ +"I would rather take a situation where no deposit is required," he\ +said.\ +\ +"But you can't get any unless you agree to accept three or four\ +dollars a week."\ +\ +"Can you afford to pay me ten dollars a week on account of my\ +deposit?" asked Ben shrewdly.\ +\ +Mr. Fitch flushed, for Ben's question was a home thrust.\ +\ +"We don't want cheap boys," he said pompously. "We want boys who are\ +worth high wages, and no others."\ +\ +"And you think I am worth high wages?" asked Ben.\ +\ +"I think so, but I may be mistaken."\ +\ +Ben was not required to answer, for the door opened hastily, and a\ +man entered in visible excitement.\ +\ +"What is your business, sir?" asked Mr. Fitch, rather nervously.\ +\ +"Are you Fitch or Ferguson?" demanded the intruder.\ +\ +"I am Mr. Fitch."\ +\ +"Two days ago my son, James Cameron, entered your service."\ +\ +"Yes, sir."\ +\ +"Where is he now?"\ +\ +"We have sent him to Brooklyn to collect a bill."\ +\ +"He paid you a deposit of fifty dollars?"\ +\ +"Certainly. We require it as a guarantee of honesty and fidelity."\ +\ +"Well, I want you to pay it back."\ +\ +"I don't understand you, sir," said Mr. Fitch, looking very much\ +disturbed. "It will be given up when your son leaves our\ +employment."\ +\ +"Well, he's going to leave it to-day," said the other.\ +\ +"Can you get him another place as good? Ten dollars a week are not\ +often paid to boys."\ +\ +"No, sir; it's that that makes me suspicious. Give me back the fifty\ +dollars, and James shall leave your employment."\ +\ +"That is entirely irregular, sir," said Fitch. "Your son has been\ +only two days in the office. At the end of the week he can leave us,\ +and receive back his money."\ +\ +"That won't do," said the angry father.\ +\ +"It will have to do," said Fitch. "You are doing a very foolish\ +thing, Mr. Cameron."\ +\ +"I'll risk that."\ +\ +"When your son returns from Brooklyn we will consider what can be\ +done."\ +\ +"When will that be?"\ +\ +"In a couple of hours."\ +\ +"I will come in then."\ +\ +Cameron went out, and Ben followed him, the discomfited Fitch making\ +no effort to detain the lad.\ +\ +"I was thinking of engaging myself to Mr. Fitch," said Ben to his\ +companion. "Do you know anything against him?"\ +\ +"I hear that he's a swindler," said Cameron. "I was a fool to fall\ +into his snare. Keep your money and you'll be better off."\ +\ +"Thank you, sir."\ +\ +Fifteen minutes afterward Mr. Fitch left his office, and when Mr.\ +Cameron came back, the door was locked. He found his son waiting in\ +the entry.\ +\ +"Did you collect any money in Brooklyn?" asked his father.\ +\ +"No; I guess Mr. Fitch gave me the wrong number. There was no such\ +man living at the house he sent me to."\ +\ +"We've been fooled!" said the father bitterly. "Come home, James. I\ +doubt we've seen the last of our money. If I ever set eyes on that\ +man Pitch again I'll give him in charge for swindling."\ +\ +The senior partner of Pitch & Ferguson was at that moment on his way\ +to Philadelphia with the remains of the fifty dollars in his pocket.\ +But for Ben's caution he would have had another fifty dollars in his\ +possession.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER VII.\ +\ +BEN'S DINNER-GUEST.\ +\ +\ +Ben slowly retraced his steps to where he had left his friend, Tom\ +Cooper.\ +\ +"Well," said the bootblack, "did you see Fitch and Ferguson?"\ +\ +"Yes," answered Ben soberly; "that is, I saw one of them."\ +\ +"Did you take the place?"\ +\ +"No; I found he was too anxious for my fifty dollars, though he\ +offered after a while to take me for thirty."\ +\ +Tom Cooper laughed derisively.\ +\ +"I'll do better nor that," he said. "If you'll give me twenty\ +dollars, I'll make you my private secretary, payin' you ten dollars\ +a week."\ +\ +"How long will you keep me?" asked Ben, smiling.\ +\ +"Six days," answered Tom. "Then I'll have to sack you without pay,\ +'cause you don't understand your business."\ +\ +"Is that the way they manage?" asked Ben.\ +\ +The bootblack nodded.\ +\ +Ben looked grave. The disappointment was a serious one, and he felt\ +now how much he had relied upon the promises of Fitch & Ferguson. He\ +had formed no other plans, and it seemed likely that he must return\ +to the country to resume his old life. Yet that seemed impracticable.\ +There was no opening there unless he accepted one of the two offers\ +already made him. But he was neither inclined to enter the employ of\ +Deacon Pitkin, nor to become the valet and servant of Sam Sturgis.\ +He was not quite sure whether he would not prefer to become a\ +bootblack, like his new acquaintance.\ +\ +"What are you goin' to do?" asked Tom.\ +\ +"I wish I knew," said Ben earnestly. "What can I do?"\ +\ +"You might go into my business," suggested Tom.\ +\ +Ben shook his head.\ +\ +"I don't think I should like that."\ +\ +"No more would I if I'd got fifty dollars in my pocket. If I was you\ +I'd go into business."\ +\ +"What kind of business?"\ +\ +"Well," said Tom reflectively, "you might buy out an apple or a\ +peanut-stand, and have lots of money left."\ +\ +"Is there much money to be made that way?" inquired Ben.\ +\ +"Well, I never knowed anybody get rich in that line. I guess you'd\ +make a livin'."\ +\ +"That wouldn't satisfy me, Tom. What I want most of all is to go to\ +California."\ +\ +The bootblack whistled.\ +\ +"That's off ever so far, isn't it?"\ +\ +"Yes, it's a long way."\ +\ +"How do you go?"\ +\ +"There are three ways," answered Ben, who had made himself familiar\ +with the subject. "The first is to go by land-across the plains.\ +Then there is a line of steamers by way of Panama. The longest way\ +is by a sailing-vessel round Cape Horn."\ +\ +"What would you do when you got to California?" asked Tom.\ +\ +"Go to work. I suppose I would go to the mines and dig gold."\ +\ +"I wish it wasn't so far off. I'd like to go myself. Do you think a\ +feller could work his passage?"\ +\ +"By blacking boots?"\ +\ +"Yes."\ +\ +"I don't believe he could. Sailors don't care much about having\ +their boots blacked."\ +\ +"How much does it cost to go?"\ +\ +"I don't know."\ +\ +"Why don't you go to the office and find out?"\ +\ +"So I will," said Ben, brightening up at the thought. "Do you know\ +where it is?"\ +\ +"Yes."\ +\ +"Will you show me?"\ +\ +"I would if I'd make enough to buy me some dinner. I only had a\ +five-cent breakfast, and I feel kinder holler."\ +\ +"I feel hungry myself," said Ben. "If you'll go with me I'll buy you\ +some dinner to pay you for your trouble."\ +\ +"'Nough said!" remarked Tom briefly, as he shouldered his box. "I'm\ +your man. Come along! Where shall we go first?"\ +\ +"To an eating-house. We might have to wait at the office."\ +\ +Tom conducted Ben to a cheap restaurant, not far away, where the two\ +for a moderate sum obtained a plentiful meal. Had either been\ +fastidious, some exception might have been taken to the style in\ +which the dishes were served, but neither was critical. A dapper\ +young clerk, however, who sat opposite Tom, seemed quite disturbed\ +by the presence of the bootblack. As his eye rested on Tom he\ +sniffed contemptuously, and frowned. In truth, our friend Tom might\ +be useful, but in his present apparel he was not fitted to grace a\ +drawing-room. He had no coat, his vest was ragged, and his shirt\ +soiled with spots of blacking. There were spots also upon his\ +freckled face, of which Tom was blissfully unconscious. It didn't\ +trouble him any to have a dirty face. "Dirt is only matter in the\ +wrong place," as a philosopher once remarked. Tom was a philosopher\ +in his own way.\ +\ +The young clerk pulled out a scented handkerchief, and applied it to\ +his nose, looking at Tom meanwhile.\ +\ +"What's the matter of yer?" inquired Tom, suspecting the cause of\ +the dandy's discomfort. "Be you sick?"\ +\ +"It's enough to make one sick to sit at the table with you,"\ +answered the clerk.\ +\ +"Why?"\ +\ +"You are absolutely filthy. Don't you know any better than to come\ +in where there are gentlemen?"\ +\ +"I don't see any except him," said Tom, indicating Ben with his\ +glance.\ +\ +"This is really too much. Here, waiter!"\ +\ +A waiter answered the summons.\ +\ +"What is it, sir?"\ +\ +"Just remove my plate to another table, will you?"\ +\ +"Is anything the matter, sir?"\ +\ +"I am not accustomed to associate with bootblacks," said the clerk\ +loftily.\ +\ +"All right, sir."\ +\ +"I am really surprised that you admit any of that low class."\ +\ +"As long as they pay their bills we are willing to receive them."\ +\ +"I don't believe that boy has got enough to pay for his dinner."\ +\ +The waiter, at this suggestion, looked at Tom rather suspiciously.\ +After removing the plate of the sensitive customer, he came back to\ +the table where the two boys were seated.\ +\ +"Have you given your order?" he asked.\ +\ +"Yes."\ +\ +"If you haven't got money enough to pay your check you'll be\ +bounced."\ +\ +"Don't you trouble yourself, old woolly head," said Tom coolly. "My\ +friend pays the bills. He's a banker down in Wall Street, and he's\ +rich enough to buy out your whole place."\ +\ +"The dinner will be paid for," said Ben, smiling.\ +\ +"All right, gentlemen," said the waiter, more respectfully. "We'll\ +be glad to see you any time."\ +\ +"Tom," said Ben, "I'm afraid you don't always tell the truth."\ +\ +"Why not?"\ +\ +"You told the waiter I was a Wall Street banker, and rich."\ +\ +"Oh, what's the odds? You're rich enough to pay for the dinners, and\ +that's all he wants."\ +\ +"You came near spoiling the appitite of that young man over at the\ +opposite table."\ +\ +"I'd like to spoil his beauty. He feels too big. I don't like to see\ +a feller put on so many airs. What's the matter of me, I'd like to\ +know?"\ +\ +"Why, you see, Tom, your face isn't very clean. There are spots of\ +blacking on it."\ +\ +"A feller can't be always washin' his face. I'll wash it to-morrow\ +mornin' at the lodge. Does it take away your appetite, too?"\ +\ +"Not a bit," said Ben, laughing. "Nothing but a good dinner will\ +take away that."\ +\ +"You're the kind of feller I like," said Tom emphatically. "You\ +don't put on no airs."\ +\ +"I can't afford to," said Ben. "I'm a poor boy myself."\ +\ +"I wouldn't feel poor if I had fifty dollars," returned Tom.\ +\ +"I hope you'll have it sometime, and a good deal more."\ +\ +"So do I. When I'm a rich man, I'll wash my face oftener."\ +\ +"And put blacking on your boots instead of your face," added Ben.\ +\ +"It might look better," Tom admitted.\ +\ +When dinner was over the two boys directed their steps to the\ +California steamship office, on one of the North River piers.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER VIII.\ +\ +A STRANGE ACQUAINTANCE.\ +\ +\ +Tom Cooper was too familiar with the streets of New York to pay any\ +attention to the moving panorama of which he and Ben formed a part.\ +But everything was new and interesting to Ben, who had passed his\ +life in a quiet country town.\ +\ +"I should think it was the Fourth of July," he said.\ +\ +"Why?" asked the bootblack.\ +\ +"Because there's such a lot of people and wagons in the streets."\ +\ +"There's always as many as this, except Sundays," said Tom.\ +\ +"Where do they all come from?" said Beu wonderingly.\ +\ +"You've got me there," answered Tom. "I never thought about that.\ +Look out!" he exclaimed suddenly, dragging Ben from in front of a\ +team coming up the street. "Do you want to get run over?"\ +\ +"I was looking the other way," said Ben, rather confused.\ +\ +"You've got to look all ways to once here," said Tom.\ +\ +"I guess you're right. Don't people often get run over?"\ +\ +"Once in a while. There's a friend of mine--Patsy Burke--a newsboy,\ +was run over last year and had his leg broke. They took him to\ +Bellevue Hospital, and cut it off."\ +\ +"Is he alive now?"\ +\ +"Oh, yes, he's alive and to work, the same as ever. He's got a\ +wooden leg."\ +\ +"Poor boy!" said Ben compassionately.\ +\ +"Oh, he don't mind it, Patsy don't. He's always jolly."\ +\ +By this time they reached the office of the California Steamship\ +Company. There was a large sign up, so that there was no difficulty\ +in finding it.\ +\ +The two boys entered. The room was not a large one. There was a\ +counter, behind which were two young men writing, and there was\ +besides a man of middle age, who was talking to two gentlemen who\ +appeared to be engaging passage. Seated in a chair, apparently\ +awaiting her turn, was a young lady, whose face was half-concealed\ +by a thick, green veil.\ +\ +When the two gentlemen were disposed of, the agent spoke to the\ +young lady.\ +\ +"What can I do for you, miss?" he asked.\ +\ +"I am in no hurry, sir," she answered, in a low voice. "I will wait\ +for those boys."\ +\ +"What's your business, boys?" demanded the agent, shrugging his\ +shoulders.\ +\ +"When does the next steamer start, sir?" inquired Ben.\ +\ +"In three days."\ +\ +"What is the price of passage?"\ +\ +"First-class?"\ +\ +"No, sir, the cheapest."\ +\ +"One hundred dollars. Do you wish to secure passage?"\ +\ +"Not this morning, sir."\ +\ +The agent shrugged his shoulders again, as if to say "I thought so,"\ +and turned again to the young lady.\ +\ +"Now, miss," he said.\ +\ +"I beg your pardon, sir," she said hurriedly. "I will call again."\ +\ +As she spoke, she left the office, following the two boys so quickly\ +that they almost went out together.\ +\ +Ben had not taken particular notice of the young lady, and was much\ +surprised when he felt a hand laid on his arm, and, turning, his\ +eyes fell npon her face.\ +\ +"May I speak a few words with you?" she said.\ +\ +"Certainly," answered Ben politely, though he could not conceal his\ +astonishment.\ +\ +The young lady looked uneasily at Tom, and hesitated.\ +\ +"Won't you move away a few steps, Tom?" said Ben, understanding the\ +look.\ +\ +"Thank you," said the young lady, in a low voice. "Are you intending\ +to sail for California by the next steamer?"\ +\ +"I should like to, miss, but I am poor, and I don't know whether I\ +can afford the expense of a ticket."\ +\ +"Would you go if your ticket were paid-by a friend?"\ +\ +"You bet I would-I mean I certainly would," answered Ben, correcting\ +his phraseology, as he remembered that he was addressing a young\ +lady, and not one of his boy friends.\ +\ +"Would you be willing to take care of me--that is, to look after\ +me?"\ +\ +Ben was certainly surprised; but he answered promptly and with\ +native politeness: "It would be a pleasure to me."\ +\ +"You were going alone-you had no friends with you?"\ +\ +"None at all, miss."\ +\ +"That is well," she said. "What is your name?"\ +\ +"Ben Stanton."\ +\ +"Do you live in the city?"\ +\ +"No, miss. I came from the small town of Hampton."\ +\ +"Where are you staying?"\ +\ +"Nowhere. I only arrived in the city this morning."\ +\ +"Will you be able to go by the next steamer?"\ +\ +Ben hesitated. It almost took away his breath--it seemed so\ +sudden-but he reflected that there really was no reason why he\ +should not, and he answered in the affirmative.\ +\ +"Then go back with me, and I will engage passage for us both."\ +\ +The young lady and Ben reentered the office, Tom Cooper looking on\ +with astonishment. She approached the counter, this time with\ +confidence, and the agent came forward.\ +\ +"I have concluded to engage passage for myself and this lad," she\ +said.\ +\ +The agent regarded her with surprise.\ +\ +"Both first-class?" he asked.\ +\ +"Certainly, sir. I should like the lad to occupy a stateroom near\ +mine."\ +\ +"Very well. I will show you on the plan those that are unengaged. I\ +cannot give either of you a stateroom to yourselves. I can give you\ +a room with a very agreeable lady, a Mrs. Dunbar, and the boy can\ +occupy part of the adjoining room."\ +\ +"Very well, sir."\ +\ +"What name?" continued the agent.\ +\ +"Ida Sinclair," answered the young lady, with visible hesitation.\ +\ +"And the boy's name?"\ +\ +Miss Sinclair had forgotten; but Ben promptly answered for himself.\ +\ +The young lady drew out her pocketbook, and produced several large\ +bills, out of which she paid the passage money. Then, turning to\ +Ben, she said: "Now we will go."\ +\ +Ben followed her out of the office, feeling completely bewildered.\ +Well he might. The young lady had paid two hundred and fifty dollars\ +for his passage, and for this large outlay only required him to take\ +care of her. No wonder he thought it strange.\ +\ +"You say you are not staying at any hotel?" said the young lady, as\ +they emerged into the street.\ +\ +"No, Miss Sinclair."\ +\ +"I am staying at the Astor House, and it is important that you\ +should be with me, as I may have some errands on which to employ\ +you."\ +\ +"Is it an expensive hotel?" asked Ben.\ +\ +"That will not matter to you, as I shall pay the bill."\ +\ +"Thank you, Miss Sinclair; but you are spending a great deal of\ +money for me."\ +\ +"I have an object in doing so. Besides, I have no lack of money."\ +\ +"Shall I go with you to the hotel now?"\ +\ +"Yes."\ +\ +"May I speak a moment to the boy who was with me?"\ +\ +"Certainly."\ +\ +"May I tell him where I am going?"\ +\ +"Yes, but ask him to keep it to himself."\ +\ +"I will, Miss Sinclair," and Ben was about to walk away.\ +\ +"On the whole, call the boy here," said Miss Sinclair. "Tom!" Tom\ +Cooper answered the summons.\ +\ +"I am going to California with this lady," said Ben. "She has paid\ +my passage."\ +\ +"You're in luck!" exclaimed Tom. "Say, miss, you don't want a boy to\ +go along to black your boots, do you?"\ +\ +Miss Sinclair smiled faintly.\ +\ +"I think not," she answered.\ +\ +"Tom," continued Ben, "you won't say a word about my going, will\ +you?"\ +\ +"Not if you don't want me to. Besides, there ain't nobody to tell."\ +\ +Miss Sinclair looked relieved. She drew out her pocketbook, and took\ +from it a ten-dollar bill.\ +\ +"What is your name?" she asked.\ +\ +"Tom Cooper, ma'am."\ +\ +"Then, Tom, allow me to offer you a small present."\ +\ +"Is it all for me?" exclaimed Tom, in amazement.\ +\ +"Yes."\ +\ +Tom thrust it into his vest pocket, and immediately executed a\ +somersault, rather to Miss Sinclair's alarm.\ +\ +"Excuse me, ma'am," said Tom, assuming his natural posture; "I\ +couldn't help it, I felt so excited. I never was so rich before."\ +\ +"May I tell Tom where we are going to stop?" asked Ben.\ +\ +"Certainly, if he will keep it to himself."\ +\ +"I shall be at the Astor House, Tom. Come round and see me."\ +\ +Tom watched the two as they preceded him on their way to Broadway.\ +\ +"I wonder if I'm dreaming," he said to himself. "If I am, I hope I\ +won't wake up till I've spent this ten dollars. I guess I'll go to\ +the Old Bowery to-night."\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER IX.\ +\ +AT THE ASTOR HOUSE.\ +\ +\ +As they walked up to the hotel together, Miss Sinclair said: "You\ +are probably surprised at what has taken place, but I have strong\ +reasons for acting as I have done."\ +\ +"I don't doubt it, Miss Sinclair," returned Ben.\ +\ +"It is desirable that I should tell you-"\ +\ +"Don't tell me anything unless you like, Miss Sinclair. I am not\ +troubled with curiosity."\ +\ +"Thank you, but in the confidential relations which we are to hold\ +toward each other, it is necessary that you should understand my\ +position. I will reserve my explanation, however, till we reach the\ +hotel."\ +\ +"We are to stop at the Astor House?"\ +\ +"Yes, and I wish you to put down my name and your own on the\ +register, and obtain two rooms as near together as convenient."\ +\ +"Very well, Miss Sinclair."\ +\ +"You may put me down as from-well, from Philadelphia."\ +\ +"All right. Shall I put myself down from Philadelphia, too?"\ +\ +"Not unless you choose. Your native village will answer. By the way,\ +you are to pass for my cousin, and it will be better, therefore,\ +that you should call me by my first name-Ida."\ +\ +"I wouldn't take the liberty but for your wishing it."\ +\ +"I do wish it-otherwise it would be difficult to pass you off as my\ +cousin."\ +\ +"All right, Miss Sinclair-I mean Ida."\ +\ +"That is better. I shall call you Ben."\ +\ +"You couldn't very well call me Mr. Stanton," said our hero,\ +smiling.\ +\ +"Not very well. But here we are at the hotel. We will go in\ +together. I will go to the ladies' parlor, and you can join me there\ +after securing rooms at the office."\ +\ +"Very well-Ida."\ +\ +Of course Ben was not used to city hotels, and he was a little\ +afraid that he should not go to work properly, but he experienced no\ +difficulty. He stepped up to the desk, and said to the clerk:\ +\ +"I should like to engage rooms for my cousin and myself."\ +\ +The clerk pushed the register toward him.\ +\ +Ben inscribed the names. At first he could not remember his\ +companion's last name, and it made him feel awkward. Fortunately it\ +came to him in time.\ +\ +"We can give you rooms on the third floor. Will that do?"\ +\ +"Yes, sir, I think so. We would like to be near together."\ +\ +"Very well. I can give you two rooms directly opposite to each\ +other."\ +\ +"That will do, sir."\ +\ +The clerk touched a bell, and a porter presented himself:\ +\ +"Here are the keys of sixty-six and sixty-eight," said the hotel\ +clerk. "Take this young gentleman's luggage to sixty-six, and show\ +the lady with him to number sixty-eight."\ +\ +Ben followed the porter, pausing at the door of the ladies' parlor,\ +where his companion awaited him.\ +\ +"Come, Ida," he said, feeling a little awkward at addressing Miss\ +Sinclair so familiarly. "The servant is ready to show us our rooms."\ +\ +"Very well, Ben," said Miss Sinclair, smiling. She did not seem so\ +nervous now.\ +\ +As the clerk had said, the rooms were directly opposite each other.\ +They were large and very comfortable in appearance. As Miss Sinclair\ +entered her room she said:\ +\ +"Join me in the ladies' parlor in fifteen minutes, Ben. I have\ +something to say to you."\ +\ +Ben looked around him with considerable satisfaction. He had only\ +left home that morning; he had met with a severe disappointment, and\ +yet he was now fortunate beyond his most sanguine hopes. He had\ +heard a great deal of the Astor House, which in Hampton and\ +throughout the country was regarded at that time as the most\ +aristocratic hotel in New York, and now he was actually a guest in\ +it. Moreover, he was booked for a first-class passage to California.\ +\ +"It's like the Arabian Nights," thought Ben, "and Miss Sinclair must\ +be a fairy."\ +\ +He took out his scanty wardrobe from the carpetbag, and put it away\ +in one of the drawers of the bureau.\ +\ +"I might just as well enjoy all the privileges of the hotel," he\ +said to himself.\ +\ +He took out his brush and comb, and brushed his hair. Then he locked\ +the door of No. 66 and went down-stairs to the ladies' parlor.\ +\ +He did not have to wait long. In five minutes Miss Sinclair made her\ +appearance.\ +\ +"Ben," she said, "here is the check for my trunk. You may take it\ +down to the office and ask them to send for it. Then come back and I\ +will acquaint you with some things I wish you to know."\ +\ +Ben speedily reappeared, and at Miss Sinclair's request sat down\ +beside her on a sofa.\ +\ +"You must know, Ben," she commenced, "that I am flying from my\ +guardian."\ +\ +"I hope it's all right," said Ben, rather frightened. He was not\ +sure but he was making himself liable to arrest for aiding and\ +abetting Miss Sinclair's flight.\ +\ +"You have no cause for alarm. He has no legal control over me,\ +though by the terms of my father's will he retains charge of my\ +property till I attain my twenty-fifth year. Before this, fourteen\ +months must elapse. Meanwhile he is exerting all his influence to\ +induce me to marry his son, so that the large property of which I am\ +possessed may accrue to the benefit of his family."\ +\ +"He couldn't force you to marry his son, could he?" asked Ben.\ +\ +"No, but he has made it very disagreeable to me to oppose him, and\ +has even gone so far as to threaten me with imprisonment in a\ +madhouse if I do not yield to his persuasions."\ +\ +"He must be a rascal!" said our hero indignantly.\ +\ +"He is," said Miss Sinclair quietly.\ +\ +"I don't see how he can do such things in a free country."\ +\ +"He has only to buy over two unscrupulous physicians, and in a large\ +city that can easily be done. On their certificate of my insanity I\ +might any day be dragged to a private asylum and confined there."\ +\ +"I don't wonder you ran away, Ida."\ +\ +"I feel perfectly justified in doing so. Liberty and the control of\ +my own person are dear to me, and I mean to struggle for them."\ +\ +"What makes you think of going to California? is it because it is so\ +far off?"\ +\ +"Partly; but there is another reason," said Miss Sinclair. "I will\ +not conceal from you that there is a person there whom I wish to\ +meet."\ +\ +"Is it a young man?" asked Ben shrewdly.\ +\ +"You have guessed it. Richard Dewey is the son of a former\ +bookkeeper of my father. He is poor, but he is a gentleman, and\ +there is a mutual attachment between us. Indeed, he asked my\ +guardian's consent to his suit, but he was repelled with insult, and\ +charged with being a fortune-hunter. That name would better apply to\ +my guardian and his precious son."\ +\ +"Is Mr. Dewey in California?"\ +\ +"Yes; he went out there some months since. He promised to write me\ +regularly, but I have not heard a word from him. I know very well\ +that he has written, and that my guardian has suppressed his\ +letters."\ +\ +"That is shameful!" said Ben warmly.\ +\ +"It is indeed; but with your help I think I can circumvent Mr.\ +Campbell yet."\ +\ +"Mr. Campbell is your guardian, I suppose, Ida?"\ +\ +"Yes."\ +\ +"You may reply upon me to help you in every way possible, Miss\ +Sinclair."\ +\ +"Ida," corrected the young lady.\ +\ +"I mean Ida."\ +\ +"That's right, Cousin Ben."\ +\ +Now that Miss Sinclair's veil was removed, our hero could see that\ +she was very pretty, and perhaps he felt all the more proud of being\ +selected as her escort. But on one point he was in the dark.\ +\ +"May I ask you a question, Ida?" he said. "How is it that you have\ +chosen me-a stranger, and so young-as your escort? I am only a green\ +country boy."\ +\ +"Partly because I like your looks; you look honest and trustworthy."\ +\ +"Thank you, but I am only a boy."\ +\ +"That's all the better for me. It would not do for me to accept the\ +escort of a man, and it would be awkward for me to propose it even\ +if it would do."\ +\ +"At any rate, I am lucky to be selected. I hope you will be\ +satisfied with me."\ +\ +"I feel sure of it."\ +\ +"You are spending a great deal of money for me."\ +\ +"You may feel surprised that I have so much money to spend\ +independent of my guardian, but he has control only of the property\ +left by my father. My mother left me thirty thousand dollars, of\ +which I am sole mistress."\ +\ +"That is lucky for you."\ +\ +"Under present circumstances-yes."\ +\ +Here two ladies entered the parlor, and the conversation was\ +suspended.\ +\ +"I believe I will go in to dinner now," said Miss Sinclair. "Will\ +you come, Ben?"\ +\ +"I ate dinner an hour ago."\ +\ +"Then you can go where you please. Meet me here at six o'clock."\ +\ +"All right, Ida."\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER X.\ +\ +BEN RECEIVES A CALL.\ +\ +\ +Ben had scarcely left the room when it occurred to him that he ought\ +to send home for the remainder of his clothes. He did not like to do\ +so, however, without first consulting Miss Sinclair.\ +\ +"Well, Ben?" said the young lady inquiringly.\ +\ +"I would like to write home for my clothes, if you have no\ +objection."\ +\ +"Certainly; but don't say anything about me."\ +\ +"All right."\ +\ +Ben went to the reading-room, and, procuring writing-materials,\ +penned the following letter to his uncle:\ +\ +"ASTOR HOUSE, NEW YORK.\ +\ +"DEAR UNCLE JOB: Will you send me the rest of my clothes at once, by\ +express? You may direct to this hotel, where I am now staying. The\ +firm that I came to see turned out to be swindlers, and I was at\ +first quite disappointed; but I have made other friends, and am to\ +sail for California next Saturday. This may seem sudden to you. At\ +any rate it does to me, and I don't expect to realize it till I am\ +fairly at sea. It will be some time before I can write you, but I\ +will send you a line from Panama, if possible. You needn't send me\ +any more of my money, for I have with me all I shall need at\ +present.\ +\ +"Give my love to aunt and Cousin Jenny. I should like to see you all\ +again before I start, but I cannot spare the time. I am in good\ +health and spirits, and I think my prospects are good. Your\ +affectionate nephew, BEN."\ +\ +This letter excited considerable surprise in Hampton.\ +\ +"I'm afraid Ben's gettin' extravagant," said Uncle Job. "I've always\ +heerd that the Astor House is a fashionable hotel where they charge\ +big prices. Ben ought to have gone to a cheap place, and saved his\ +money."\ +\ +"He says he's got money enough with him, father," said Mrs. Stanton.\ +"How much did he take away with him?"\ +\ +"Seventy-five dollars."\ +\ +"And he had to pay his passage to California out of that?"\ +\ +"Of course."\ +\ +"He won't have much left when he gets to California, then."\ +\ +"No, he won't."\ +\ +"Don't you think you'd better send him some?"\ +\ +"No, wife. Ben says no, and I'm goin' accordin' to his directions.\ +I suppose he knows best what he wants."\ +\ +Sam Sturgis did not often condescend to notice Job Stanton, but his\ +curiosity got the better of his pride, and, meeting the old man a\ +short time afterward, he asked: "Have you heard anythiug from Ben?"\ +\ +"Yes, he writ me a letter from New York. I got it this mornin'?"\ +\ +"Has he got a chance to black boots?" asked Sam, with a sneer.\ +\ +"He's stayin' at the Astor House," said Job, enjoying Sam's\ +surprise.\ +\ +"Staying at the Astor House!" exclaimed the young aristocrat in\ +astonishment. "Why, that is a tip-top hotel."\ +\ +"I always heerd it was," returned Job. "How can he afford to stay\ +there?"\ +\ +"He didn't say."\ +\ +"Oh, I understand," said Sam, with an air of relief. "He's got a\ +place to black boots, or clean knives. That must be the way of it."\ +\ +"I don't think it is, for he has engaged passage to Californy."\ +\ +"Is that so? When does he sail?"\ +\ +"On Saturday. We're goin' to send him his clothes. Do you want to\ +send him any word or message?"\ +\ +"No; why should I?"\ +\ +"I thought you was one of his friends."\ +\ +"Yes, I will send him a message," said Sam. "Just tell him that when\ +he has spent all his money, I'll give him the place I offered him\ +before he left Hampton."\ +\ +"You're very kind," said Job, concealing his amusement; "but I don't\ +think Ben will need to take up with your offer."\ +\ +"I think he will," said Sam.\ +\ +"I wonder whether Ben is really staying at the Astor House, and\ +paying his expenses there," he said to himself. "If he is, he's a\ +fool. I've a great mind to ask father if I may go up to New York,\ +and see. Maybe he's only humbugging his uncle."\ +\ +So when Sam got home he preferred a request to visit New York, and\ +obtained permission.\ +\ +We now return to the Astor House.\ +\ +Miss Sinclair and Ben went in to supper together. The young lady had\ +scarcely taken her place, and looked around her, when she started,\ +and turned pale.\ +\ +"Ben," she said hurriedly, "I must leave the table. Do you see that\ +tall man sitting by the window?"\ +\ +"Yes, Cousin Ida."\ +\ +"It is my guardian. He has not seen me yet, but I must be cautious.\ +Direct a servant to bring me some supper in my room, and come up\ +there yourself when you are through."\ +\ +"All right!"\ +\ +Miss Sinclair left the room, but Ben maintained his place. He took\ +particular notice of the gentleman who had been pointed out to him.\ +He was a tall, slender man, with iron-gray hair, and a stern,\ +unpleasant look. Ben judged that her guardian had not seen Miss\ +Sinclair, for he seemed wholly intent upon his supper.\ +\ +"I don't wonder she wanted to run away from him," thought our hero.\ +Ben smiled as it flashed upon him that this young lady was running\ +away with him.\ +\ +"I didn't expect, when I left home, to meet with any such adventure\ +as this," he said to himself. "But I do mean to help Miss Sinclair\ +all I possibly can. It doesn't seem quite natural to call her Ida,\ +but I will do as she wants me to."\ +\ +Meanwhile Mr. Campbell had made inquiries at the office if a young\ +lady from Albany was staying at the hotel.\ +\ +"No," said the clerk.\ +\ +It will be remembered that Miss Sinclair had registered from\ +Philadelphia, or, rather, Ben had done so for her.\ +\ +"Have you any young lady here without escort?" asked Mr. Campbell.\ +\ +"No, sir. There is a young lady from Philadelphia, but she arrived\ +with her cousin, a lad of fifteen or sixteen."\ +\ +"That cannot be the one I am in search of," said the unsuspecting\ +guardian.\ +\ +Of course, as the reader will readily surmise, Ida Sinclair was not\ +the young lady's real name, but it is the name by which we shall\ +know her for the present.\ +\ +After supper Ben went to Miss Sinclair's room, as directed.\ +\ +"I think, Ben," she said, "it will be best for me to take all my\ +meals in my room during the short time I stay here. Should my\ +guardian catch sight of me he might give me some trouble, and that I\ +wish to avoid."\ +\ +"I guess you're right," said Ben.\ +\ +"I shall wish you to come to my room two or three times a day, as I\ +may have some errands for you to do."\ +\ +"All right, Miss Sinclair."\ +\ +"You had better call me 'Cousin Ida,' so as to get used to it."\ +\ +The next day as Ben was standing on the steps of the hotel he saw,\ +with surprise, Sam Sturgis approaching. It did not occur to him,\ +however, that he was responsible for Sam's presence in the city. He\ +was glad to see a familiar Hampton face, and he said cordially: "How\ +are you, Sam?"\ +\ +Sam nodded.\ +\ +"You don't mean to say that you are stopping here, do you?"\ +\ +"Yes, I do," said Ben, smiling. "Why not?"\ +\ +"Because it's a first-class hotel."\ +\ +"Why shouldn't I stay at a first-class hotel, Sam?"\ +\ +"Because you are a poor boy. Maybe you've got some relations among\ +the servants?"\ +\ +"If I have I don't know it."\ +\ +"Your uncle told me you were stopping here, but I didn't believe\ +it."\ +\ +"Do you believe it now?" asked Ben.\ +\ +"Perhaps you just stay round here to make people believe you are a\ +guest of the house."\ +\ +"Why should I care what people think? Nobody knows me here. However,\ +Sam, if you want to be convinced, just come up to my room with me."\ +\ +Sam concluded to accept the invitation, and accompanied Ben to the\ +desk.\ +\ +"Please give me the key to number sixty-six," said Ben.\ +\ +"Here it is, sir."\ +\ +Sam began to think Ben's statement was true, after all. There was no\ +room for doubt when Ben ushered him into the handsome chamber which\ +he occupied.\ +\ +"Make yourself at home, Sam," said Ben, enjoying his companion's\ +surprise.\ +\ +"It's very queer," thought Sam. "I wonder whether he won't run off\ +without paying his bill."\ +\ +Sam rather hoped that this might be the case, as it would involve\ +Ben in disgrace.\ +\ +"Your uncle tells me you are going to sail for California on\ +Saturday."\ +\ +"Yes, Sam."\ +\ +"Have you bought your ticket?"\ +\ +"Yes."\ +\ +"How much did you pay?"\ +\ +"Excuse me. I would rather not tell just now."\ +\ +"I suppose he goes in the steerage," thought Sam.\ +\ +As he could learn nothing more from our hero, Sam soon left him.\ +\ +It was certainly remarkable that the boy to whom he had recently\ +offered the position of his bootblack should be a guest of a\ +fashionable New York hotel.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XI.\ +\ +MISS SINCLAIR'S STRATAGEM.\ +\ +\ +Mr. Campbell had no particular reason to think that Miss Ida\ +Sinclair, registering from Philadelphia, was the ward of whom he was\ +in pursuit. Still, he thought it worth while to find out what he\ +could about her, and managed to waylay Ben in the corridor of the\ +hotel the next morning.\ +\ +"Good morning, boy!" he said stiffly, not having the art of\ +ingratiating himself with young people.\ +\ +"Good morning, man!" Ben thought of replying, but he thought this\ +would be hardly polite, and said: "Good morning, sir," instead.\ +\ +He suspected Mr. Campbell's purpose, and resolved to answer\ +cautiously.\ +\ +"This is a nice hotel," said the guardian, resolving to come to the\ +point by degrees.\ +\ +"Yes, sir."\ +\ +"I suppose you are too young to have traveled much?"\ +\ +"I never traveled much, sir."\ +\ +"Didn't I see you in the company of a young lady?"\ +\ +"Very likely, sir."\ +\ +"Your sister, I suppose?"\ +\ +"No, sir."\ +\ +"A relation, I suppose?"\ +\ +"I call her Cousin Ida," said Ben truthfully.\ +\ +"Indeed! And she is from Philadelphia?"\ +\ +Ben was placed in a dilemma. He saw that he should be forced to\ +misrepresent, and this he did not like. On the other hand, he could\ +not tell the truth, and so betray Miss Sinclair to her persecutor.\ +\ +"You can tell by looking at the hotel register," he said coldly.\ +\ +Mr. Campbell judged by Ben's tone that our hero meant to rebuke his\ +curiosity, and, having really very little idea that he was on the\ +right track, he thought it best to apologize.\ +\ +"Excuse my questions," he said, "but I have an idea that I know your\ +cousin."\ +\ +"In that case," said Ben, "if you will tell me your name I will\ +speak to Cousin Ida about it."\ +\ +Now Mr. Campbell was in a dilemma. If Ida Sinclair were really the\ +ward of whom he was in pursuit, his name would only put her on her\ +guard. He quickly thought of a ruse.\ +\ +"I will send a card," he said.\ +\ +He stepped to the clerk's desk, and asked for a blank card. After an\ +instant's hesitation, he penciled the name James Vernon, and handed\ +it to Ben.\ +\ +"The young lady may not remember my name," he said; "but in an\ +interview I think I can recall it to her recollection. Please give\ +it to your cousin."\ +\ +"All right, sir."\ +\ +Ben went up-stairs and tapped for admission at Miss Sinclair's door.\ +\ +"Well, Ben?" she said inquiringly.\ +\ +"Here is a card which a gentleman down-stairs asked me to hand you."\ +\ +"James Vernon!" repeated the young lady, in surprise. "Why, I don't\ +know any gentleman of that name."\ +\ +"He said you might not remember it; but he thought he could recall\ +it to your recollection in a personal interview."\ +\ +"I don't want a personal interview with any gentleman."\ +\ +"Not with your guardian?" asked Ben, smiling.\ +\ +"Was the man who handed you this card my guardian?"\ +\ +"Yes; he tried to find out all he could from me; but wasn't very\ +successful. Then he said he thought he knew you, and handed me this\ +card."\ +\ +"So he thinks to delude me by masquerading under a false name! He\ +must suspect that I am his ward."\ +\ +"Of course you won't see him?"\ +\ +"No."\ +\ +"What shall I say?"\ +\ +"That I don't remember the name, and decline to see him."\ +\ +"Won't that increase his suspicions?"\ +\ +"I can't help it."\ +\ +"Very well."\ +\ +Ben went below; but thought he might as well put off the interview.\ +It was not till afternoon that Mr. Campbell met him again.\ +\ +"Did you deliver my card, boy?" he asked.\ +\ +"My name is Benjamin," returned our hero, who did not fancy the\ +manner of address.\ +\ +"Very well. Did you deliver my card, Benjamin?"\ +\ +"Yes, sir."\ +\ +"What did your cousin say?"\ +\ +"That she knew no gentleman or family of your name."\ +\ +"I did not expect she would remember; but I have reasons for asking\ +an interview."\ +\ +"You mustn't be offended, sir; but she declines to meet a stranger."\ +\ +Mr. Campbell was baffled.\ +\ +"She mistakes my motive," he said, in a tone expressive of\ +annoyance. "How long do you stay here?"\ +\ +"I can't say, sir," said Ben coldly.\ +\ +Mr. Campbell bit his lip and walked away. He did not fancy being\ +foiled by a boy. It occurred to him, however, that by waiting\ +patiently he might see the young lady at dinner. He kept watch,\ +therefore, till he saw Ben entering the dining-room, and then,\ +entering himself, secured a seat near-by. But the young lady,\ +greatly to his chagrin, did not appear. Ben observed his vigilant\ +watch, and after dinner reported to Miss Sinclair.\ +\ +The young lady smiled.\ +\ +"I have thought of a way to deceive him and quiet his suspicions,"\ +she said.\ +\ +Ben looked curious.\ +\ +"If I remain away from the table he will feel sure that I am his\ +ward."\ +\ +"Yes, I suppose so."\ +\ +"Listen to my plan, then. I have the New York Herald here, with half\ +a column of advertisements of seamtresses. I will give you a list of\ +three, and you shall engage one to be here early to-morrow morning.\ +Select one with a figure as much like mine as possible."\ +\ +"All right!"\ +\ +"I see you look puzzled," said Miss Sinclair, smiling.\ +\ +"I am, a little; I don't know what good that will do."\ +\ +"Then I will explain. I shall dress the seamstress in one of my own\ +dresses, and let her go to the table with you. Mr. Campbell will\ +naturally suppose that she is Miss Ida Sinclair, and will be\ +satisfied."\ +\ +"I see! That is splendid!" exclaimed Ben, entering with hearty\ +enthusiasm into the conspiracy.\ +\ +It happened, luckily, that the first seamstress on whom he called\ +was sufficiently like Miss Sinclair in figure to justify him in\ +engaging her. He directed her to call at the hotel at eight the next\ +morning without fail. The poor girl was glad to make this\ +engagement, having been without employment for two weeks previous.\ +\ +When she arrived, Miss Sinclair, without confiding too much in her,\ +made known her desire, and the girl, who had had but a scanty\ +breakfast, was glad to embrace the opportunity of enjoying the\ +hospitality of a first-class hotel. Miss Sinclair had really work\ +enough to employ her during the day.\ +\ +When Mr. Campbell caught sight of Ben approaching the dining-room in\ +company with a young lady, he advanced eagerly and peered into the\ +young lady's face. He turned away in disappointment.\ +\ +"I have made a fool of myself. It is only a common country girl. I\ +must look elsewhere for my ward."\ +\ +Directly after breakfast Ben had the satisfaction of seeing the\ +obnoxious guardian depart in a hack.\ +\ +"Good-by, Mr. Vernon!" he said politely. "I see you are leaving the\ +hotel."\ +\ +"Good-by!" muttered Campbell.\ +\ +"I hope you'll excuse my cousin for not seeing you?"\ +\ +"I don't think she's the one I supposed," said Campbell. "It's of no\ +consequence."\ +\ +Ben hastened to inform Miss Sinclair of her guardian's departure.\ +\ +"Now the field is clear," said Ida, breathing a sigh of relief.\ +\ +"I say, Ida, you managed him tip-top," said Ben admiringly. "I never\ +should have thought of such a plan."\ +\ +Miss Sinclair smiled faintly.\ +\ +"I don't like to employ deceit," she said, "but it seems necessary\ +to fight such an enemy with his own weapons."\ +\ +"He wanted to deceive you. He put a wrong name on his card."\ +\ +"That is true, Ben. I must thank you for the manner in which you\ +have aided me in this matter. I should not have known how to act if\ +I had not had you to call upon."\ +\ +Ben's face brightened.\ +\ +"I am glad to hear you say that, Cousin Ida," he said. "You are\ +spending so much money for me that I shall be glad to feel that I\ +have earned some of it."\ +\ +"Have no trouble on that score, Ben. I foresee that you will\ +continue to be of great service to me. I regard the money expended\ +for you as well invested."\ +\ +Ben heard this with satisfaction. It naturally gave him a feeling of\ +heightened importance when he reflected that a wealthy heiress had\ +selected him as her escort and right-hand man, and that she was\ +satisfied with her choice.\ +\ +On Saturday morning Miss Sinclair and Ben went on board the\ +California steamer, and when the tide served, they started on their\ +long voyage.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XII.\ +\ +IN SAN FRANCISCO.\ +\ +\ +Ben was not seasick, and enjoyed the novel experiences vastly. Miss\ +Sinclair was less fortunate. For four days she was sick and confined\ +to her stateroom. After that she was able to appear among the other\ +passengers. Ben was very attentive, and confirmed the favorable\ +opinion she had already formed of him.\ +\ +At last the voyage came to a close. It was a bright, cheery morning\ +when the steamer came within sight of San Francisco. It was not a\ +populous and brilliant city as at present, for Ben's expedition\ +dates back to the year 1856, only a few years after the discovery of\ +gold. Still, there was a good-sized town on the site of the future\ +city. The numerous passengers regarded it with rejoicing hearts, and\ +exchanged hopeful congratulations. Probably with the exception of\ +Miss Sinclair, all had gone out to make or increase their fortunes.\ +Her fortune was already made. She had gone to enjoy personal\ +liberty, and to find her plighted husband.\ +\ +"Well, Ben, we have nearly reached our destination," said Miss\ +Sinclair, as she looked earnestly in the direction of the embryo\ +city. "You are glad, are you not?"\ +\ +"Yes, Cousin Ida," said Ben slowly.\ +\ +"But you look thoughtful. Is there anything on your mind?"\ +\ +"I feel sorry that I am to part from you, Cousin Ida."\ +\ +"Thank you, Ben, but we are not to part permanently. You don't mean\ +to forsake me utterly?"\ +\ +"Not if you need me," said our hero.\ +\ +"I shall still require your services. You remember that I came out\ +here in search of a--friend?" said Miss Sinclair, hesitating.\ +\ +"Yes, I know, Cousin Ida."\ +\ +"I am desirous that he should know that I am in San Francisco, but,\ +unfortunately, though I know he is in California, I have no idea\ +where, or in what part of it he is to be found. Once in\ +communication with him, I need have no further apprehension of\ +interference or persecution on the part of my guardian."\ +\ +"To be sure," said Ben straightforwardly. "I suppose you would marry\ +him?"\ +\ +"That may come some time," said Miss Sinclair, smiling, "but he must\ +be found first."\ +\ +"You will travel about, I suppose?" said Ben.\ +\ +"No; I shall engage some one to travel for me. It would not be\ +suitable for a young lady to go from one mining-camp to another."\ +\ +"Have you thought of any one you can send?" asked our hero.\ +\ +"Yes," said Miss Sinclair. "He is rather young, but I shall try the\ +experiment."\ +\ +"Do you mean me?" asked Ben quickly.\ +\ +"Yes; are you willing to be my agent in the matter?"\ +\ +"I should like it of all things," said Ben, with sparkling eyes.\ +\ +"Then you may consider yourself engaged. The details we will discuss\ +presently."\ +\ +"And where will you stay, Cousin Ida?"\ +\ +"In San Francisco. I have become acquainted with a lady on board who\ +proposes to open a boarding-house in the city, or, rather, to take\ +charge of one already kept by her sister. In my circumstances, it\ +will be better for me to board with her than at a hotel. There I\ +shall have a secure and comfortable home, while you are exploring\ +the mining-districts in my interest."\ +\ +"That is an excellent plan," said Ben.\ +\ +"So I think."\ +\ +Here the conversation was interrupted by the bustle of approaching\ +departure. Ben landed in the company of Miss Sinclair and Mrs.\ +Armstrong, and the three proceeded at once to the boarding-house,\ +over which the latter was in future to preside. A comfortable room\ +was assigned to Miss Sinclair, and a small one to Ben. They were\ +plainly furnished, but both enjoyed being on land once more.\ +\ +Our young hero, finding that his services were not required for the\ +present, began to explore the city. It was composed almost wholly of\ +wooden houses; some but one story in height, even on the leading\ +streets, with here and there sand-hills, where now stand stately\ +piles and magnificent hotels. He ascended Telegraph Hill, which\ +then, as now, commanded a good view of the town and harbor; yet how\ +different a view from that presented now. Ben was partly pleased and\ +partly disappointed. Just from New York, he could not help comparing\ +this straggling village on the shores of the Pacific with the even\ +then great city on the Atlantic coast. He had heard so much of San\ +Francisco that he expected something more. To-day a man may journey\ +across the continent and find the same comfort, luxury, and\ +magnificence in San Francisco which he left behind him in New York.\ +\ +In his explorations Ben came to a showy building which seemed a\ +center of attraction. It seemed well filled, and people were\ +constantly coming in and going out. Ben's curiosity was excited.\ +\ +"What is that?" he asked of a man who lounged outside, with a\ +Mexican sombrero on his head and his hands thrust deep in his\ +pockets.\ +\ +"That's the Bella Union, my chicken."\ +\ +"I don't know any better now."\ +\ +"Just go in there with a pocketful of gold-dust, like I did, and\ +you'll find out, I reckon."\ +\ +"Is it a gambling-house?" inquired Ben, rather excited, for he had\ +heard much of such places, but never seen one.\ +\ +"It's the devil's den," said the man bitterly. "I wish I'd never\ +seen it."\ +\ +"Have you been unlucky?"\ +\ +"Look here, boy, jest look at me," said the stranger. "An hour ago I\ +was worth a thousand dollars in gold-dust-took six months' hard work\ +to scrape it together at the mines-now I haven't an ounce left."\ +\ +"Did you lose it there?" asked Ben, somewhat startled.\ +\ +"Well, I staked it, and it's gone."\ +\ +"Have you nothing left?"\ +\ +"Not an ounce. I haven't enough to pay for a bed."\ +\ +"What will you do for a place to sleep?" inquired Ben, to whom this\ +seemed an alarming state of things.\ +\ +The stranger shrugged his shoulders.\ +\ +"I don't worry about that," he said. "I'll stretch myself out\ +somewhere when night comes. I'm used to roughing it."\ +\ +"Won't you get cold sleeping out of doors?" asked Ben.\ +\ +The other gave a short, quick laugh.\ +\ +"What do you take me for, boy? I don't look delicate, do I?"\ +\ +"Not very," answered Ben, smiling.\ +\ +"I've slept out under the stars pretty reg'lar for the past six\ +months. I only wish I was back to the mines."\ +\ +"Do you think I can go in?" Ben said hesitatingly.\ +\ +"Yes, youngster, there's nothin' to bender, but take a fool's\ +advice, and ef you've got money in your pocket, don't do it."\ +\ +"You don't think I'd gamble, do you?" said Ben, horror-struck.\ +\ +"I've seen youngsters smaller than you bet their pile."\ +\ +"You won't catch me doing it. I am a poor boy, and have nothing to\ +lose."\ +\ +"All right, then. You're a country boy, ain't you?"\ +\ +"Yes."\ +\ +"So was I once, but I've had the greenness rubbed off'n me. I was\ +jest such a youngster as you once. I wish I could go back twenty\ +years."\ +\ +"You're not very old yet," said Ben, in a tone of sympathy. "Why\ +don't you reform?"\ +\ +"No, I'm not old-only thirty-six-and I ain't so bad as I might be.\ +I'm a rough customer, I expect, but I wouldn't do anything downright\ +mean. Ef you're goin' into this den, I'll go with you. I can't take\ +care of myself, but mayhap I can keep you out of danger."\ +\ +"Thank you, sir."\ +\ +So Ben and his new acquaintance entered the famous gambling-den. It\ +was handsomely furnished and decorated, with a long and gaily\ +appointed bar, while the mirrors, pictures, glass, and silverware\ +excited surprise, and would rather have been expected in an older\ +city. There were crowds at the counter, and crowds around the\ +tables, and the air was heavy with the odor of Chinese punk, which\ +was used for cigar-lights, The tinkle of silver coin was heard at\ +the tables, though ounces of gold-dust were quite as commonly used\ +in the games of chance.\ +\ +"I suppose a good deal of money is won here?" said Ben, looking\ +around curiously.\ +\ +"There's a good deal lost," said Ben's new acquaintance.\ +\ +"Gentlemen, will you drink with me?" said a young man, with flushed\ +face, rising from a table near-by, both hands full of silver and\ +gold, "I've been lucky to-night, and it's my treat."\ +\ +"I don't care if I do," said Ben's companion, with alacrity, and he\ +named his drink.\ +\ +"What'll the boy have?"\ +\ +"Nothing, thank you," answered Ben, startled,\ +\ +"That won't do. I insist upon your drinking," hiccuped the young\ +man, who had evidently drunk freely already. "Take it as a personal\ +insult, if you don't."\ +\ +"Never mind the boy," said his new friend, to Ben's great relief.\ +"He's young and innocent. He hasn't been round like you an' me."\ +\ +"That's so," assented the young man, taking the remark as a\ +compliment. "Well, here's to you!"\ +\ +"I wouldn't have done it," said Ben's new friend rejoining him; "but\ +it'll help me to forget what a blamed fool I've been to-night. You\ +jest let the drink alone. That's my advice."\ +\ +"I mean to," said Ben firmly. "Do people drink much out here?"\ +\ +"Whisky's their nat'ral element," said the miner. "Some of 'em don't\ +drink water once a month. An old friend of mine, Joe Granger,\ +act'lly forgot how it tasted. I gave him a glass once by way of a\ +joke, and he said it was the weakest gin he ever tasted."\ +\ +"Are there no temperance societies out here?" asked Ben.\ +\ +The miner laughed.\ +\ +"It's my belief that a temperance lecturer would be mobbed, or hung\ +to the nearest lamppost," he answered.\ +\ +It is hardly necessary to say that even in 1856 intemperance was\ +hardly as common in California as the statements of his new friend\ +led Ben to suppose. His informant was sincere, and spoke according\ +to his own observation. It is not remarkable that at the mines, in\ +the absence of the comforts of civilization, those who drink rarely\ +or not at all at home should seek the warmth and excitement of\ +drink.\ +\ +"What's your name, boy?" asked the miner abruptly.\ +\ +"Ben Stanton."\ +\ +"Where were you raised?"\ +\ +Though the term was a new one to Ben, he could not fail to\ +understand it.\ +\ +"In the State of Connecticut."\ +\ +"That's where they make wooden nutmegs," said the miner, "isn't it?"\ +\ +"I never saw any made there," answered Ben, smiling.\ +\ +"I reckon you've come out here to make your fortin?"\ +\ +"I should like to," answered Ben; "but I shall be satisfied if I\ +make a living, and a little more."\ +\ +"You'll do it. You look the right sort, you do. No bad habits, and\ +willin' to work hard, and go twenty-four hours hungry when you can't\ +help it."\ +\ +"Yes."\ +\ +"Where'll you go first?--to the mines, I reckon."\ +\ +"Yes," answered Ben, reflecting that he would be most likely to find\ +Richard Dewey at some mining-settlement.\ +\ +"Ef I hadn't been a fool, and lost all my money, I'd go along with\ +you."\ +\ +"I should like the company of some one who had already been at the\ +mines," said Ben.\ +\ +Then it occurred to him that his new acquaintance might possibly\ +have encountered Dewey in his wanderings. At any rate, it would do\ +no harm to inquire.\ +\ +"Did you ever meet a man named Dewey at the mines?" he asked.\ +\ +"Friend of yours?"\ +\ +"No; I never saw him, but I have promised to hunt him up. I have\ +some important news for him."\ +\ +"Dewey!" mused the miner. "Somehow that name sounds familiar like.\ +Can you tell what he was like?"\ +\ +"I never saw him, but I can get a description of him."\ +\ +"I'm sure I've met a man by that name," said the miner thoughtfully,\ +"but I can't rightly locate him. I have it," he added suddenly. "It\ +was at Murphy's, over in Calaveras, that I came across him. A quiet,\ +stiddy young man-looked as if he'd come from a city-not rough like\ +the rest of us-might have been twenty-seven or twenty-eight years\ +old-didn't drink any more'n you do, but kept to work and minded his\ +own business."\ +\ +"That must be the man I am after," said Ben eagerly. "Do you think\ +he is at Murphy's now?"\ +\ +"How can I tell? It's most a year sence I met him. Likely he's gone.\ +Miners don't stay as long as that in one place."\ +\ +Ben's countenance fell. He did not seem as near to the object of his\ +journey as he at first thought. Still, it was something to obtain a\ +clue. Perhaps at Murphy's he might get a trace of Dewey, and,\ +following it up, find him at last.\ +\ +"How far is Murphy's from here?" he asked.\ +\ +"Two hundred miles, I reckon."\ +\ +"Then I'd better go there first."\ +\ +"Not ef you want to find gold. There's other places that's better,\ +and not so far away."\ +\ +"It may be so, but I care more to find Richard Dewey than to find\ +gold in plenty."\ +\ +"You said he wasn't a friend of yours?" said the miner, in some\ +surprise.\ +\ +"No; I don't know him, but I am engaged by a friend of his to find\ +him. That friend will pay; my expenses while I am on the road."\ +\ +"Has Dewey come into a fortin?" asked the miner. "Has a rich uncle\ +died and left him all his pile?"\ +\ +"Not that I know of," answered Ben.\ +\ +"Then there's a woman in it?" said his new acquaintance, in a tone\ +of conviction. "It's his sweetheart that wants to find him. I'm\ +right. Yes, I know it. But there's one thing that I can't see\ +through."\ +\ +"What is that?"\ +\ +"Why does the gal-if it is a gal-send a boy like you on the trail?"\ +\ +"Suppose there was no one else to send," suggested Ben.\ +\ +"That makes it a little plainer. Where is the gal?"\ +\ +"Ought I to confide in this man?" thought Ben. "I never met him\ +before. I only know that he has lost all his money at the\ +gambling-table. Yet he may help me, and I must confide in somebody.\ +He is a rough customer, but he seems honest and sincere."\ +\ +"Here in San Francisco," he answered. "I cannot tell you more until\ +I have her permission."\ +\ +"That's all right. Ef I can help you, I will, Ben. You said your\ +name was Ben?"\ +\ +"Yes."\ +\ +"Mine is Bradley-Jake Bradley. I was raised in Kentucky, and I've\ +got an old mother living there now, I hope. I haven't heard anything\ +from her for nigh a year. It makes me homesick when I think of it.\ +Got a mother, Ben?"\ +\ +"Neither father nor mother," answered Ben sadly.\ +\ +"That's bad," said the miner, with rough sympathy. "You're a young\ +chap to be left alone in the world."\ +\ +"Yes; I do feel very lonely sometimes, Mr. Bradley."\ +\ +"Don't call me Mr. Bradley. I ain't used to it. Call me Jake."\ +\ +"All right, I'll remember it. Where can I meet you again, Jake?"\ +\ +"Here will do as well as anywhere."\ +\ +"Will you be here to-morrow morning at nine o'clock?"\ +\ +"Yes," answered Bradley. "I'll ask the porter to call me early," he\ +added, with rough humor.\ +\ +Ben remembered that his new acquaintance had no money to pay for a\ +night's lodging, and would be forced to sleep out.\ +\ +"Can't I lend you enough money to pay for a lodging?" he asked.\ +\ +"You kin, but you needn't. Jake Bradley ain't that delicate that\ +it'll hurt him to sleep out. No, Ben, save your money, and ef I\ +actilly need it I'll make bold to ask you for it; but I don't throw\ +away no money on a bed."\ +\ +"If you hadn't lost your money in there," said Ben, pointing to the\ +building they had just left, "wouldn't you have paid for a bed?"\ +\ +"I might have put on a little style then, I allow. It don't do for a\ +man with a thousand dollars in his belt to lie out. I ain't afraid\ +now."\ +\ +Ben, on leaving his new acquaintance, thought it best to go back at\ +once to Miss Sinclair, to communicate the information he had\ +obtained, rightly deeming it of importance.\ +\ +"Well, Ben, have you seen the whole town so soon?" asked Miss\ +Sinclair, looking up from her trunk, which she was unpacking.\ +\ +"No, Cousin Ida, but I think I have learned something of Mr. Dewey."\ +\ +"You have not seen him?" asked Miss Sinclair quickly.\ +\ +"No, I have not seen him, but I have seen a man who met him nearly a\ +year since at the mines."\ +\ +"Tell me about it, Ben," said the young lady. "Where was it that\ +this man saw Richard-Mr. Dewey?"\ +\ +"At Murphy's."\ +\ +"Where is that?"\ +\ +"Two hundred miles away."\ +\ +"That is not far. Are you willing to go there?"\ +\ +"Yes, but you must remember, Cousin Ida, that it is nearly a year\ +since he was there, and miners never stay long in one place, at\ +least so my miner friend tells me."\ +\ +"At any rate, you may learn something of him there."\ +\ +"That is true."\ +\ +"Will this man go with you?"\ +\ +"He would, but he has no money to get out of the city."\ +\ +"I will pay his expenses as far as Murphy's, and farther, if he is\ +likely to prove of service."\ +\ +"I think it will be best, if you can afford it," said Ben. "He knows\ +the country, and I don't. Three months from now I should be willing\ +to start off alone, but now-"\ +\ +"It is much better that you should have company."\ +\ +"It will cost you a good deal of money, Cousin Ida."\ +\ +"I shall not grudge a large sum, if need be, to find Richard. When\ +can you see this man again?"\ +\ +"To-morrow morning."\ +\ +"Bring him here, and I will make arrangements with him."\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XIII.\ +\ +PRELIMINARY ARRANGEMENTS.\ +\ +\ +At nine o'clock on the following morning Ben found Jake Bradley at\ +the appointed rendezvous.\ +\ +"You're on time, my lad," said Jake. "I didn't know as you'd think\ +it worth while to look me up."\ +\ +"I promised," said Ben.\ +\ +"And you've kept your promise. That's more'n many a man would do."\ +\ +"How did you pass the night?" asked Ben.\ +\ +"I stretched out on the soft side of a board. It isn't the first\ +time. I slept like a top."\ +\ +"Have you had breakfast?"\ +\ +"Well, there! you've got me," said Jake. "I reckoned on findin' an\ +old friend that keeps a saloon on Montgomery Street, but he's sold\ +out to another man, and I hadn't the face to ask him for a bite.\ +What a consarned fool I was to throw away all my pile."\ +\ +"Where is the saloon?" said Ben. "We will go there, and while you\ +are eating we can arrange our business."\ +\ +"Thank you, boy. I ain't above acceptin' a favor of you, and I allow\ +that I'm empty, and need fillin' up."\ +\ +"You needn't thank me, Mr. Bradley-"\ +\ +"Jake!"\ +\ +"Jake, then. I am only acting as the agent of Miss Sinclair."\ +\ +"The gal you spoke of?"\ +\ +Ben nodded.\ +\ +"Then you can thank her. If there's anything I kin do for her, jest\ +let me know."\ +\ +"I mean to. That is the business I want to speak to you about."\ +\ +After a hearty breakfast the two turned their steps to the private\ +boarding-house where Miss Sinclair was eagerly awaiting them. Though\ +Jake referred to her as "the gal," in his conversation with Ben, he\ +was entirely respectful when brought face to face with the young\ +lady.\ +\ +"I want to thank you for my breakfast, miss, first of all," said the\ +miner. "If I hadn't been such a thunderin' fool, I needn't have been\ +beholden to any one, but-"\ +\ +"You are entirely welcome, Mr. Bradley," said the young lady. "Ben\ +tells me that you know something of Richard Dewey."\ +\ +"Yes, miss."\ +\ +"He is a valued friend of mine, and I am anxious to hear all that\ +you can tell me of him. You don't know where he is now?"\ +\ +"No, miss."\ +\ +"When did you see him?"\ +\ +"Nigh on to a year ago."\ +\ +"That is a long time. You have heard nothing of him since?"\ +\ +"No, miss. I should say yes," he added, with sudden recollection.\ +"One of our boys saw him some months later, and reported that he was\ +well and prosperin'. I disremember where he was, but somewhere at\ +the mines."\ +\ +"That is something. Do you think you could find him?"\ +\ +"I could try, miss,"\ +\ +"I am going to send out Ben, but he is only a boy. I should like to\ +have you go with him. You know the country, and he does not.\ +Besides, you have seen Mr. Dewey."\ +\ +"Yes, I should know him ag'in if I met him."\ +\ +"How did he seem when you knew him?" asked Ida, hesitating, because\ +conscious that the question was vaguely expressed and might not be\ +understood.\ +\ +"He was a quiet, sober chap, workin' early and late," answered Jake,\ +who, rough as he was, comprehended the drift of her questions. "He\ +wasn't exactly pop'lar with the boys, because he wouldn't drink with\ +'em, and that made them think he was proud, or grudged the expense."\ +\ +"They were very greatly mistaken," said Ida hastily.\ +\ +"We found that out," said the miner. "A young chap fell sick; he was\ +a newcomer and had neither friends nor money, and was pretty bad\ +off. Dewey sat up with him night after night, and gave him fifty\ +dollars when he got well to help him back to 'Frisco. You see, his\ +sickness made him tired of the mines."\ +\ +"That was like Richard," said Ida softly. "He was always\ +kind-hearted."\ +\ +"After that," continued Jake, "none of us had a word to say agin'\ +him. We knowed him better, and we liked him for his kindness to that\ +young chap."\ +\ +If Jake Bradley had sought to commend himself to Ida Sinclair, he\ +could not have found a better or more effectual way than by praising\ +her lover. She became more cordial at once, and better satisfied\ +with the arrangement she had formed to send off the ex-miner in\ +Ben's company in search of her lover.\ +\ +The arrangements were speedily made. The two were to start out,\ +equipped at Miss Sinclair's expense, on an exploring-tour, the main\ +object being to find Richard Dewey, and apprise him of her arrival\ +in California. They were permitted, however, to work at mining,\ +wherever there was a favorable opportunity, but never to lose sight\ +of the great object of their expedition. From time to time, as they\ +had opportunity, they were to communicate with Miss Sinclair,\ +imparting any information they might have gathered.\ +\ +"I shall have to leave much to your discretion," said Ida,\ +addressing them both. "I know absolutely nothing of the country, and\ +you, Mr. Bradley, are tolerably familiar with it. I have only to add\ +that should you become unfortunate, and require more money, you have\ +only to let me know. In any event, I shall take care to recompense\ +you for all your efforts in my behalf."\ +\ +"We don't want to bear too heavy on your purse, miss," said Jake\ +Bradley. "Once we get to the mines, we kin take care of ourselves.\ +Can't we, Ben?"\ +\ +"I hope so, Mr. Bradley."\ +\ +Bradley eyed Ben reproachfully, and our hero at once smilingly\ +corrected himself. "I mean Jake."\ +\ +"That suits me better. I s'pose the young lady wouldn't like to call\ +me Jake?"\ +\ +"I think not," said Ida, smiling.\ +\ +"I ain't used to bein' called mister. The boys always called me\ +Jake."\ +\ +"But I am not one of the boys, Mr. Bradley," said Miss Sinclair.\ +\ +"Right you are, miss, and I reckon Richard Dewey would rather have\ +you as you are."\ +\ +Ida laughed merrily. To her the miner was a new character, unlike\ +any she had ever met, and though rough and unconventional, she was\ +disposed to like him.\ +\ +"Find him for me, and you can ask him the question if you like. Tell\ +him from me-but you must first know me by my real name."\ +\ +Ben looked surprised. He had forgotten that Ida Sinclair was only\ +assumed to elude the vigilance of her guardian.\ +\ +"My real name is Florence Douglas. I am of Scotch descent, as you\ +will judge. Can you remember the name?"\ +\ +"I can, Cousin Ida-I mean Cousin Florence," said Ben.\ +\ +"Then let Ida Sinclair be forgotten. Richard--Mr. Dewey-would not\ +know me by that name."\ +\ +"I tell you, Ben, that gal's a trump!" said Jake Bradley\ +enthusiastically, when they were by themselves; "and so I'll tell\ +Dick Dewey when I see him."\ +\ +"She's been a kind friend to me, Jake. I hope we can find Mr. Dewey\ +for her."\ +\ +"We'll find him if he's in California," answered Jake.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XIV\ +\ +THE CANON HOTEL.\ +\ +\ +Late in the afternoon of the third day subsequent a man and a boy\ +might have been seen riding slowly through a rocky canon probably\ +eighty miles west from San Francisco. Both were mounted on the small\ +native horses of California, generally called mustangs. These\ +animals possess a strength disproportioned to their size, and show\ +great endurance. At times they have a playful habit of bucking, not\ +quite agreeable to an inexperienced horseman.\ +\ +The reader will already have guessed that the two riders are Jake\ +Bradley and Ben. The mustangs were on a walk, being apparently weary\ +with the day's tramp.\ +\ +"Well, Ben," said Bradley, "what do you say to camping out for the\ +night?"\ +\ +"I have no objection," said Ben, "and I don't think my horse has."\ +\ +"He is better off than mine, having less to carry. Are you tired?"\ +\ +"Not very tired, but my limbs are rather stiff."\ +\ +"What hotel shall we put up at, Ben?" asked Bradley, with a humorous\ +glance about him.\ +\ +"There isn't much choice," said Ben. "The Canon Hotel seems to be\ +the only one that is open hereabouts. The only objection is, that we\ +shall have to sleep on the floor, with the windows all open."\ +\ +"That's about so, Ben," assented Bradley, laughing. "I shouldn't\ +mind sleeping in a Christian bed to-night myself. Well, here goes!"\ +\ +As he spoke, he jumped from the back of his horse, and, taking out a\ +rope, tethered it to a tree hard by.\ +\ +Ben followed his example.\ +\ +"Now for the grub," said Bradley. "I'm powerfully empty myself. This\ +ridin' all day up and down hill is wearin' to the stomach. What do\ +you say?"\ +\ +"I've got a healthy appetite myself, Jake."\ +\ +"This yere Canon Hotel that you was talkin' about ain't first-class.\ +It don't supply anything but cold victuals. Now, ef we had a cup of\ +coffee to wash it down, and kinder warm us up, it would go to the\ +right spot, eh, Ben?"\ +\ +"You are right, Jake! but please don't speak of it again. It makes\ +my mouth water."\ +\ +"Stay here a few minutes, Ben, and I'll reconnoiter a little.\ +Perhaps I can find a better place for campin'."\ +\ +"All right, Jake!"\ +\ +While Bradley was absent Ben threw himself on the ground, and began\ +to think. It was the third day of the expedition. Ben enjoyed riding\ +through this new, unsettled country. He almost felt in the solitudes\ +of the woods and hills as if he were the original explorer of this\ +far-distant country. He was more than three thousand miles away from\ +his native town, entrusted with a mission of importance. The thought\ +was gratifying to his boyish fancy, and inspired him with a new\ +sense of power and increased his self-reliance. He was glad,\ +however, to have the company of Jake Bradley. He was ready to\ +acknowledge that his chances of success, had he started alone, would\ +have been much smaller, and certainly he would have found it\ +exceedingly lonesome.\ +\ +His companion was not a man of culture, nor were his tastes\ +elevated, but there was a rough honesty about him, and a good humor,\ +which made him an agreeable companion. Besides, he knew the country,\ +and Ben felt secure in leaving the conduct of the trip to him.\ +\ +"I am glad I came out here," thought Ben, as, with his head pillowed\ +on his knapsack, he looked up through the branches of the tall trees\ +to the blue sky beyond. "It's better than staying at home and\ +working for Deacon Pitkin, or blacking boots for Sam Sturgis. Here I\ +am my own man, free and don't need to run at anybody's bidding."\ +\ +Probably most boys of Ben's age share his love of independence, but\ +it is neither practicable nor desirable that at sixteen a boy should\ +be his own master, much as he may desire it. In the case of our\ +hero, circumstances had thrown him upon his own resources, and it\ +may be added that he could better be trusted with the management of\ +himself than most boys.\ +\ +Ben's reverie was broken in upon by the return of his companion.\ +\ +"What are you dreamin' about, Ben?" queried Jake.\ +\ +"I was thinking about home, Jake."\ +\ +"This don't look much like it, eh, Ben?"\ +\ +"Not much."\ +\ +"Well, my lad, I've found something," continued Bradley.\ +\ +"Found something? What! a nugget?" exclaimed Ben, in excitement.\ +\ +"Not much. This ain't the place for such a find as that."\ +\ +"What, then, Jake?"\ +\ +"I've found a hotel."\ +\ +"Where?" asked Ben eagerly.\ +\ +"Get up and stand by me. There! look yonder. What do you see?"\ +\ +"It looks like smoke."\ +\ +"It is smoke. There's a cabin yonder. I've reconnoitered, and I seed\ +the door open, and a woman inside. Now, I'm going to ask her to give\ +us some supper and a bed. Won't that be fine?"\ +\ +"Splendid, Jake!"\ +\ +"Then unhitch that animal of yours, and we'll put our best foot\ +forrards, and maybe we'll get a hot supper and a Christian bed to\ +sleep in."\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XV.\ +\ +A POLITE HOSTESS.\ +\ +\ +The cabin was a rough one, built of logs, with an adobe chimney. It\ +contained two rooms and a loft. The inducements to live in such a\ +lonely spot must have been small enough, but so many undesirable\ +localities are inhabited, that it is hardly worth while to feel or\ +express surprise at men's taste in such matters.\ +\ +The approach of Ben and his companion was not observed by the inmate\ +or inmates of the cabin. It was only when Bradley, dismounting from\ +his mustang, struck the door-post with the handle of his whip-for it\ +is needless to say that bells were not to be found in that\ +neighborhood--that their presence became known.\ +\ +A woman, tall, spare, and with harsh features, came to the door. She\ +eyed Bradley askance.\ +\ +"Well, what's wanted, and who are you?" she demanded.\ +\ +"We are bound for the mines, ma'am," said Bradley. "We expected to\ +camp out to-night, but we happened to see the smoke rising from your\ +chimbly, and we made bold to ride up and ask you for supper and a\ +night's lodging."\ +\ +"We don't take in tramps," said the woman roughly.\ +\ +"We're on a tramp," said Bradley, resolved not to be rebuffed, "but\ +we've got money to pay for our accommodations."\ +\ +"This ain't a hotel," said the woman, but less roughly.\ +\ +"Of course not," said Bradley, in a conciliatory manner; "but I\ +guess you won't object to get us some supper and give us a bed.\ +We'll pay for all the trouble we make. That's fair, ain't it?"\ +\ +"I don't know what my husband will say," returned the woman, in an\ +undecided manner.\ +\ +"Won't you ask him, ma'am?"\ +\ +"He's gone out just now. He won't be back for an hour."\ +\ +"While you're waitin' for him, can't you get us some supper? Then\ +you can send us off if he ain't willin' to keep us."\ +\ +"I'll do that," said the woman. "You'd better stay outside till I\ +get supper ready. There ain't much room here, and you'll be in the\ +way."\ +\ +"Jest as you say, ma'am. I s'pose it would be too much to ask if you\ +kin give us a hot cup of coffee. We haven't tasted any since we left\ +'Frisco."\ +\ +"I can give you coffee," answered the woman. "My husband likes it,\ +and we always keep it on hand."\ +\ +"Good!" said Bradley, his face lighting up with satisfaction. "We've\ +rid far to-day, and a cup of coffee will go to the right spot."\ +\ +Bradley and Ben threw themselves on the ground near-by, and awaited\ +with complacence the call to supper.\ +\ +"We're in luck, Ben," said his companion. "Who'd have expected a hot\ +supper out here in this lonely place?"\ +\ +"I don't much like the looks of our landlady, Jake," said Ben.\ +\ +"She ain't handsome, I allow, Ben; but if she gives us a good\ +supper, that don't matter. We must make the most of this, for it's\ +uncertain when we get another."\ +\ +"W'on't she give us breakfast in the morning?"\ +\ +"I didn't think of that. Maybe she will, and that'll be a good start\ +on our to-morrow's journey."\ +\ +In about three-quarters of an hour the woman came to the door, and\ +called the travelers in to supper.\ +\ +An unpainted wooden table was set in the middle of the floor, on\ +which was spread a simple but appetizing meal. There was a plate of\ +meat, which appeared to have been fried; a loaf of bread, and a pot\ +of coffee; but there was neither milk nor butter. This naturally\ +detracted from the attractiveness of the bread and coffee, but our\ +travelers were not disposed to be fastidious.\ +\ +Ben tasted the meat, and it evidently puzzled him. In taste it\ +differed from anything he had eaten before.\ +\ +Bradley smiled at his perplexity.\ +\ +"Don't you know what it is, Ben?" he asked.\ +\ +"No."\ +\ +"Do you like it?"\ +\ +"I am hungry enough to enjoy anything."\ +\ +"Well, lad, it's bear steak."\ +\ +"Bear steak!" repeated Ben, in surprise.\ +\ +"Exactly. I've eaten it before two or three times. You see, we\ +haven't any markets here to depend on, and we must take what we can\ +get."\ +\ +"It isn't bad," said Ben meditatively.\ +\ +During this conversation the landlady had been out of the room. As\ +it concluded, she reentered.\ +\ +"Your supper is good, ma'am," said Bradley.\ +\ +"Now if you only had a cow to supply you with milk and butter, you'd\ +be fixed complete."\ +\ +"If you want 'em you'll have to go somewhere else," said the woman.\ +\ +"Excuse me, ma'am. I wasn't complainin' of the fare-not by no means.\ +I was only thinkin' of you."\ +\ +"There's no call to think of me, stranger."\ +\ +"Have you lived long in these parts, ma'am?" inquired Bradley\ +socially.\ +\ +"Fools ask questions, and fools answer them. I ain't a fool,"\ +responded the polite hostess.\ +\ +"Excuse my curiosity, ma'am. I didn't know that it would be\ +disagreeable to you to answer."\ +\ +"Who told you it was?"\ +\ +"I thought from your way of speakin'."\ +\ +"It's none of your business, that's all," said the hostess.\ +\ +Even Bradley was silenced. It was clear that their hostess was not\ +inclined to be social. The remainder of the meal passed in silence.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XVI.\ +\ +A NEW ACQUAINTANCE.\ +\ +\ +After supper the two travelers emerged from, the cabin and stretched\ +themselves out under the trees once more. Bradley produced a clay\ +pipe, filled the bowl with tobacco, and began to smoke.\ +\ +"It's a pity you don't smoke, Ben," he said, his face expressing the\ +satisfaction he felt.\ +\ +"Would you advise me to, Jake?" questioned our hero.\ +\ +"No, Ben; I guess you're better off without it; but there's nothing\ +makes me feel so good as a smoke after a good supper."\ +\ +"I feel comfortable without it, Jake."\ +\ +"Then let well enough alone. I wonder whether our sweet-tempered\ +hostess is goin' to give us a bed to-night. Not that it matters\ +much. I'd rather have a good supper, and sleep under the trees, than\ +have the best bed in Californy without the supper."\ +\ +Here their attention was drawn to a man who was leisurely\ +approaching. He was dressed roughly in a red shirt, trousers tucked\ +in his boots, and a hat with a broad flapping brim. As he strode\ +along, his revolver and bowie-knife were carelessly exposed. His\ +complexion was dark; he wore an abundant beard, and whatever he\ +might be, he looked like a desperado, whom one would not care to\ +meet on a dark night, unless well armed and on the alert.\ +\ +He stopped short when he caught sight of the two travelers.\ +\ +"Who are you?" he asked abruptly.\ +\ +"We're bound for the mines," answered Bradley. "Your good lady, if\ +so be as you live there--indicating the cabin-has just provided us\ +with a capital supper."\ +\ +The newcomer glanced toward the door of the cabin, at which the\ +woman now made her appearance.\ +\ +"Givin' you some supper, eh? I hope she's saved some for me."\ +\ +"Yes, Jack," said his wife, in a conciliatory tone; "there's plenty\ +for you. These strangers offered to pay well for supper and lodging,\ +and I thought you wouldn't object. I gave them the supper, but I\ +wouldn't say anything about the lodging until you came."\ +\ +"Well, stir round, old gal, and get me something to eat, for I'm\ +dead hungry."\ +\ +"Supper is ready now, Jack."\ +\ +The man entered his cabin, and the next twenty minutes were consumed\ +in repairing the ravages of hunger.\ +\ +"How do you like his looks, Jake?" asked Ben, in a low voice.\ +\ +"He's just the sort of man I'd expect to find in a State prison,"\ +answered Bradley. "That man's a rascal, if looks mean anything."\ +\ +"I'll tell you what he reminds me of, Jake. Did you ever read\ +'Oliver Twist'?"\ +\ +"All of a Twist? That's a queer name. What is it?"\ +\ +"It's a story by Dickens. He describes a brutal villain, named Bill\ +Sykes, who murders his wife."\ +\ +"This chap looks as if he wouldn't mind doing it. His wife's afraid\ +of him, though half an hour ago I would have said she wasn't afraid\ +of anything."\ +\ +"That's so. They seem pretty well matched."\ +\ +Presently the master of the cabin came out. It was not easy for his\ +harsh features to look amiable, but his manner was no longer\ +offensive. He even seemed inclined to be social.\ +\ +"Traveled fur to-day?" he inquired.\ +\ +"About thirty miles, as near as I can guess," said Bradley.\ +\ +"Is that your boy?"\ +\ +"No, he's no kin to me. We're travelin' together-that's all."\ +\ +"Goin' to the mines?"\ +\ +"We are goin' to Murphy's."\ +\ +"Come from 'Frisco?"\ +\ +"Yes."\ +\ +The proprietor of the cabin at this reply fixed his eyes\ +reflectively upon Ben and his companion.\ +\ +"I'd like to know what he's thinkin' about," said Bradley to\ +himself. "Somehow I mistrust him. A man with that face can't help\ +bein' a scoundrel."\ +\ +"Don't you find it lonely livin' out here?" he asked.\ +\ +Jack Carter shrugged his shoulders.\ +\ +"I don't care for company," he said. "As long as me and the old\ +woman get enough to eat, our own company's good enough for us."\ +\ +"Are there any mines near-by?" asked Bradley.\ +\ +"Not very."\ +\ +"What inducement can he have to live out here in the\ +wilderness?" thought Bradley. "If he were workin' a mine now, I could\ +understand. How does he make a livin', I wonder?"\ +\ +"Have you lived here long?" he asked.\ +\ +"Quite a while."\ +\ +It was clear that Jack did not care to answer definitely, and was\ +disposed to give as little information as possible about himself.\ +\ +It was yet early when the two travelers felt an inclination to\ +sleep. They had had a hard day's tramp, and wished to be stirring\ +early the next day. As yet, however, they were uncertain whether\ +they would be permitted to sleep in the cabin. Bradley resolved to\ +put the question to the man.\ +\ +"If you haven't got room for us to sleep," he said, "Ben and I will\ +camp out, as we have done before."\ +\ +"The old woman's makin' up a bed for you," said Jack. "We don't keep\ +a hotel, but we've got room for you two."\ +\ +"Thank you."\ +\ +"Wait here, and I'll see if the bed's ready."\ +\ +He entered the cabin, probably to consult with his wife.\ +\ +"I don't know why it is, Ben," said Bradley, in a low voice, "but I\ +mistrust that man."\ +\ +"Don't you think it safe to sleep here?" asked Ben gravely.\ +\ +"I think if we are prudent we shall keep a careful watch over our\ +host and hostess; they may mean us harm."\ +\ +"What motive would they have for harming us, Jake?"\ +\ +"To get possession of our money. There's a gang of robbers\ +hereabouts, who make their livin' by stopping stages, and lyin' in\ +wait for solitary travelers, and I strongly suspect that this man is\ +one of them."\ +\ +"Do you judge from his looks?"\ +\ +"Not wholly, but I can't think of any other motive he can have for\ +livin' in this out-of-the-way place. There are no mines near, and\ +the huntin' wouldn't pay him. I may be mistaken, but that's what I\ +think."\ +\ +"What shall we do?" asked Ben, a little startled by his companion's\ +suggestion.\ +\ +"That's more than I can tell you, Ben."\ +\ +"We might camp out."\ +\ +"And be surprised in our sleep. No, we shall be as safe in the cabin\ +as outside. Besides, I may be wrong. But, hush! here comes our\ +agreeable friend."\ +\ +Jack Carter had in his hand a bottle and a tin mug.\ +\ +"Strangers," said he, "Jack Carter's a poor man, but he's not so\ +poor that he can't offer a glass of wine to a friend."\ +\ +As he spoke, he poured out a liberal mug of wine and offered it to\ +Bradley.\ +\ +Our friend Bradley was not a member of a temperance society, and he\ +could not resist the temptation. His conscience smote him when he\ +thought of the suspicions he had cherished, and there was a sudden\ +revulsion.\ +\ +"After all," thought he, "Jack Carter is a good fellow. He don't\ +look it, to be sure, but a man can't help his looks What is it the\ +poet says, 'A man may smile and be a villain still.' Jack's a rough\ +customer, but he's treatin' Ben and me tiptop."\ +\ +"I drink your health, Jack," he said cordially. "You've treated Ben\ +and me like gentlemen, and we're glad to know you. You're the right\ +sort."\ +\ +And he drained the mug.\ +\ +Jack Carter filled it again, and passed it to Ben.\ +\ +"Take a drink, boy," he said. "It will make you feel good."\ +\ +"No, thank you," said Ben politely.\ +\ +"What's the matter?" asked Jack, frowning. "Why won't you drink?"\ +\ +"I never drink," answered Ben. "I promised my father I wouldn't, and\ +I can't break my word."\ +\ +"This wine is weak. It wouldn't hurt a baby."\ +\ +"I would rather not drink," said Ben.\ +\ +"Ain't you goin' a little too fur, Ben?" remonstrated Bradley. "Your\ +father meant rum and whisky and sich. He wouldn't mind wine."\ +\ +"Yes, he would," said Ben, resolutely. "I had an uncle who died a\ +drunkard, and it was that that made my father so particular. I\ +promised him faithfully, and now that he's dead, I can't break my\ +work to him."\ +\ +"The boy's right, Jack," said Bradley. "It won't hurt you and me,\ +but if he don't want to drink, we won't press him."\ +\ +"It's blasted nonsense!" exclaimed Jack angrily. "The boy's puttin'\ +on airs, that's what's the matter."\ +\ +"He's a good boy," said Bradley. "You don't know him as well as I\ +do."\ +\ +"Jest as you say," muttered Jack, in a dissatisfied tone. "If you\ +want to go to bed now, you can."\ +\ +"I'm ready, for one," said Bradley, rising with, alacrity. "I'm\ +powerful sleepy."\ +\ +"Come in, then."\ +\ +They followed their host into the cabin.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XVII.\ +\ +A TIGHT PLACE.\ +\ +\ +The lower part of the cabin was divided into two rooms, over which\ +was a loft. There was no staircase; but there was a short ladder by\ +which the ascent was made.\ +\ +"You're to sleep up there," said Jack, pointing to the loft. "Me and\ +the old woman sleep below."\ +\ +"All right," said Bradley, gaping. "I can sleep anywhere to-night.\ +I'm powerful sleepy."\ +\ +He ascended the ladder first, and Ben followed. There was no\ +bedstead, but a straw pallet was stretched in one corner, with a\ +blanket in place of a quilt.\ +\ +"I sha'n't undress, Ben," said Bradley, throwing himself down on the\ +rude bed. "I can't keep my eyes open long enough. I think I never\ +felt so sleepy in the whole course of my life."\ +\ +"I am tired, but not sleepy," returned Ben.\ +\ +"I won't undress, either. I can sleep just as well in my clothes."\ +\ +Scarcely a minute had passed when Bradley was breathing in the\ +unconsciousness of slumber.\ +\ +As Ben lay down beside him, he could not help feeling surprised at\ +his companion's yielding so suddenly to the power of sleep. That he\ +should be tired was not surprising; but when seated outside he had\ +not seemed unusually drowsy, that is, up to the time of his drinking\ +the wine. A quick suspicion flashed upon Ben's mind. Had the wine\ +anything to do with this sudden drowsiness?\ +\ +Ben had not much experience of life; but he had heard of liquors\ +being drugged, and it seemed possible that the wine which had been\ +offered to Bradley might have been tampered with. If so, it was only\ +too evident what was the object of their host. It was natural to\ +suppose that the two travelers were provided with money, and it was\ +undoubtedly the intention of Jack Carter to rob them in their sleep.\ +\ +This was not a pleasant thought, nor one calculated to soothe Ben to\ +sleep. He was only a boy, and to find himself in a robber's den was\ +certainly rather a startling discovery. If he had been able to\ +consult with his companion, it would have been a relief; but Bradley\ +was in a profound sleep.\ +\ +Ben nudged him, but without the slightest effect. He was insensible\ +as a log. Finding more vigorous measures necessary, the boy shook\ +him, but succeeded only in eliciting a few muttered words.\ +\ +"I can't wake him," thought Ben, more and more disturbed in mind. "I\ +am sure it must be the wine which makes him sleep so heavily. What\ +can I do?"\ +\ +This question was more easily asked than answered. Ben was quite\ +aware that single-handed he could not cope with a powerful man like\ +Carter. With Bradley's help he would have felt secure; but no\ +assistance could now be expected from his companion. So far as he\ +could see, he must submit to be robbed, and to see his companion\ +robbed. Of course, there was a chance that he might be mistaken. It\ +was possible that Bradley's might be a natural sleep, induced by\ +excessive fatigue, and there might be nothing sinister in the\ +intentions of their host.\ +\ +Ben, however, found it difficult to convince himself of this, much\ +as he desired to do so. The existence of a gang of robbers in the\ +vicinity, referred to by Bradley, was not calculated to reassure\ +him. If Carter did not belong to this gang, his personal appearance\ +was certainly calculated to foster the suspicion of his connection\ +with them, and the suspicion was strengthened by the fact of his\ +living in this lonely place without any apparent inducement.\ +\ +For the first time, perhaps, since he had left the East, he wished\ +himself in the security of home. As Deacon Pitkin's hired boy,\ +living on frugal diet, he would have been better off than here at\ +the mercy of a mountain bandit.\ +\ +But Ben was a boy of spirit, and not inclined to submit in a\ +cowardly manner without first considering if in any possible manner\ +he could guard against the danger which menaced him. Fatigued as he\ +was by the day's ride, he would, under ordinary circumstances, have\ +fallen asleep quickly; but now anxiety and apprehension kept him\ +broad awake.\ +\ +"If I could only rouse Bradley," he said to himself, "I should feel\ +more comfortable. I don't like the responsibility of deciding what\ +is best to be done."\ +\ +His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of low voices below.\ +Evidently Carter and his wife were conversing, and probably about\ +them. Anxious to hear what was said, as this might give him a clue\ +to their plans, Ben rose softly from his low couch, and drew near\ +the edge of the opening through which he had mounted into the loft.\ +In this position he was able to hear what was said.\ +\ +"They must have money," said Carter. "They would need it to get them\ +out to the mines. Whatever it is, I am bound to have it."\ +\ +"The man seems strong," replied the wife. "You may not find it an\ +easy task to master him."\ +\ +"What can he do?" returned Carter contemptuously. "He is in a dead\ +sleep. I put enough stuff into his wine to keep him in a stupor for\ +twelve good hours. If I'm not a match for a sleeping man, I'll go\ +and hang myself."\ +\ +"But the boy-he took no wine."\ +\ +"No; he's one of them temperance sneaks. But he's only a baby. I\ +could lay him out with one hand."\ +\ +"Don't harm him, Jack!" said the woman. "I can't help feeling kindly\ +to him. Our boy, had he lived, would have been about his age. I\ +can't help thinking of that."\ +\ +"Don't be silly! Because we had a boy once, mustn't interfere with\ +business."\ +\ +"But you won't hurt him, Jack?" pleaded the woman, who, hard as she\ +seemed, appeared to have a soft side to her nature.\ +\ +"No; I won't hurt the brat if he behaves himself and doesn't get\ +bumptious. Likely enough he'll be fast asleep. Boys at his age\ +generally sleep well."\ +\ +"In the morning they will discover that they have been robbed. What\ +will you say to them?"\ +\ +"Tell them it's none of my business; that I know nothing about it."\ +\ +"But if the boy is awake, and sees you at work, Jack?"\ +\ +"Then it will be different. It would have been better for him to\ +have taken the wine."\ +\ +"Do you think he suspected anything?"\ +\ +"No; how could he suspect that the wine was drugged? He is one of\ +them temperance sneaks, I tell you."\ +\ +"How soon are you going up, Jack?"\ +\ +"In half an hour. I want to give the boy time enough to get asleep.\ +That will make matters easy."\ +\ +"Don't you think I had better go up, Jack?"\ +\ +"Why should you? Why should I let a woman do my work?"\ +\ +"Then I should know the boy would receive no harm."\ +\ +"Oh, that's it, is it? You make a great fuss about the boy."\ +\ +"Yes; I can't help thinking about my own boy."\ +\ +"Oh, drop that! It makes me sick. Wasn't he my boy as well as yours?\ +I'm sorry he's gone. I could have brought him up to be a help to us\ +in our business."\ +\ +"Never, Jack, never!" exclaimed his wife fervently.\ +\ +"Hello! what's that?"\ +\ +"I mean that I should have been unwilling to have our son grow up no\ +better than we are. He, at any rate, should have been a good man."\ +\ +"What's up now, old woman? You haven't been attending Sunday-school\ +lately, have you?" demanded Jack, with a sneer.\ +\ +"I did once, Jack, and I haven't quite forgotten what I learned\ +there, though it don't look like it now."\ +\ +"Are you going back on me?" demanded Jack fiercely.\ +\ +"No, Jack, it's too late for that. I have helped you, and I mean to\ +help you, but to-night the sight of that boy, and the thought of our\ +son, who died so long ago, have given me a turn. If it was a man, it\ +would be different. But you have promised you won't harm him, and no\ +more need be said."\ +\ +"Too much has been said already, to my thinkin'," growled Jack.\ +"However, that's over, and I expect you to help me if I need help."\ +\ +Ben heard every word that was said, and it confirmed his suspicions.\ +There was no doubt that an attempt would be made to rob him and his\ +companion before morning, and the prospect was not pleasant. By\ +submitting quietly he would come to no harm, and the loss of the\ +money would not be irreparable. He and Bradley had each started with\ +a hundred dollars, supplied by Miss Doughlas, and thus far but\ +little of this sum had been spent. Their employer would doubtless\ +send them a further supply if they were robbed, but they would be\ +reluctant to apply to her, since the loss would be partly the result\ +of their imprudence.\ +\ +Ben felt that he was in a tight place, and he was not quite certain\ +what he should or could do.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XVIII.\ +\ +AN EVENING CALL.\ +\ +\ +To lie awake in momentary expectation of a hostile attack, from\ +which there is apparently no escape, is by no means a comfortable\ +position. The cabin was in the heart of the woods, with no other\ +dwelling within twenty miles, so far as Ben knew. In fact, if it\ +were true, as Jack had said, that there were no mines near at hand,\ +there were probably no neighbors, except, possibly, of Jack's kind.\ +\ +The question recurred to Ben: Was he willing to surrender his money,\ +and go forth penniless, or should he attempt to escape or resist?\ +\ +"If Jake would only wake up!" he thought, surveying, with\ +perplexity, the recumbent form at his side.\ +\ +But Jake was as senseless as a log, and the attempt to rouse him\ +would inevitably attract attention below and precipitate the attack,\ +besides leaving them utterly penniless.\ +\ +There was another idea which occurred to our hero: Could he secrete\ +his own money and Jake's, or the greater part of it, and thus save\ +it from the clutches of his dishonest host?\ +\ +If it had been in the form of bank-bills, there might have been some\ +chance of doing this, but it was not so easy to conceal gold pieces.\ +While considering this question, Ben rose softly and looked out of\ +the window. Strictly speaking, there was no window, but a hole about\ +fifteen inches square, screened by a curtain of coarse cotton cloth.\ +This Ben moved aside, and looked out.\ +\ +It was not a very dark night. In the half-light Ben was able to see\ +a considerable distance. The height of the opening from the ground\ +was probably not much over twelve feet, as well as the boy could\ +estimate. There would have been no difficulty in his getting out and\ +swinging to the ground, but to this move there were two objections:\ +First, he would be sure to be heard by his enemy below; and,\ +secondly, he was unwilling to leave Jake in the power of the enemy.\ +\ +While he was standing at the window he heard the noise of some one\ +moving below. The heavy step convinced him that it was Jack. He\ +could not leave his place and lie down without being detected, and\ +he hastily decided to remain where he was.\ +\ +In this way he might possibly gain time.\ +\ +Jack softly stepped from round to round of the ladder, and presently\ +his head peered above the floor. He started angrily when he saw the\ +boy at the window.\ +\ +"What are you about there, boy?" he demanded roughly.\ +\ +Ben turned, and said composedly: "I am looking out."\ +\ +"Why are you not in bed and asleep, like your friend?"\ +\ +"I tried to sleep, sir, but I couldn't."\ +\ +"Do you expect to get to sleep looking out of that hole?"\ +\ +"I thought I'd see how light it was."\ +\ +"Well, I can't have you trampin' round, keepin' the old woman and me\ +awake. I wouldn't have let you sleep here ef I had known that's the\ +way you spend the night."\ +\ +"I beg pardon if I disturbed you," said Ben politely.\ +\ +"Well, that don't do no good, your apologizin'. Jest lay down and\ +get to sleep in a hurry, or I'll know the reason why."\ +\ +"All right, sir," said Ben submissively.\ +\ +"What's the name of that chap that's with you?" continued Jack.\ +\ +"It's Jake Bradley."\ +\ +"He's a sensible man, he is. He lays down and goes to sleep, while\ +you're trampin' round the room and lookin' out of doors. You won't\ +see nothin' to pay you."\ +\ +"I think you're right, sir. I'll lie down and go to sleep."\ +\ +"You'd better. Me and the old woman can't be kept awake all night."\ +\ +When Ben had resumed his place on the floor, the intruder descended\ +the ladder. Though it would have been easy enough to execute his\ +plan of robbery now, he evidently preferred to wait till both the\ +travelers should be asleep.\ +\ +It was not true, as he had said, that he had heard Ben moving about.\ +In fact, it had been a surprise to him to find the boy up, but this\ +afforded a convenient and plausible pretext for his intrusion, and\ +he had availed himself of it.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XIX.\ +\ +BEN'S MIDNIGHT EXCURSION.\ +\ +\ +When Jack Carter went downstairs it was his intention to wait from\ +half an hour to an hour, and then to make another visit to his\ +lodgers. This would allow time for Ben to fall asleep, and, although\ +Jack would have had no difficulty in overcoming his resistance, he\ +preferred to commit the robbery when both the travelers were in a\ +state of unconsciousness.\ +\ +But he overestimated his ability to keep awake. Usually he was a\ +sound sleeper, and during the day preceding he had taken a long walk\ +across the mountains. The natural result followed. While he was\ +waiting for Ben to fall asleep, he fell asleep himself. Ben was not\ +long in ascertaining this welcome fact. A series of noises, not very\ +musical, announced that Jack was asleep. He had a confirmed habit of\ +snoring, to which, fortunately, his wife had become accustomed, so\ +that it did not disturb her rest.\ +\ +Ben crept near the edge of the loft and looked over. The bed on\ +which his amiable host reposed was in full view. Both husband and\ +wife were fast asleep, and their sleep was likely to be protracted.\ +\ +Under this change of circumstances, what was Ben to do?\ +\ +This was the question which he anxiously asked himself.\ +\ +Now there would be no difficulty in escaping, if he saw fit. But\ +here there was a difficulty. Jake could not be roused, and, if he\ +could, it would not be very agreeable to lose a night's sleep, for\ +Ben, as well as his host, felt very sleepy. Yet if he allowed\ +himself to remain in the loft, the danger of robbery would recur in\ +the morning, for Jack would be sure to wake earlier than Bradley,\ +who had been drugged, as Ben was convinced.\ +\ +Sometimes, in the midst of perplexity, a way of relief is suddenly\ +opened. A lucky suggestion, sent, perhaps, by an overruling\ +Providence, provides a path of escape from some menacing evil. This\ +happened in the present instance.\ +\ +"Why," thought Ben, "can't I take our money, steal downstairs and\ +out of the cabin, and hide it in some secure place where we can find\ +it in the morning? Then I can sleep in security for the remainder of\ +the night, and my thievish friend will be disappointed."\ +\ +No sooner did the idea occur to Ben than he prepared to carry it\ +out.\ +\ +As has already been said, Bradley had about a hundred dollars in\ +gold pieces, and Ben as much more. This would have made a very good\ +haul for Jack, who did not anticipate obtaining so much. It was more\ +than our young hero felt willing to lose, and he was prepared to run\ +a large risk in the effort to save it.\ +\ +The risk, of course, was that he might wake Jack or his wife in\ +coming downstairs. There would be no difficulty in opening the door,\ +for it was not fastened in any way. As to the danger of rousing his\ +entertainers, Ben was not much afraid of waking Jack, for he was\ +evidently in a sound sleep. His wife was more likely to be\ +disturbed, and, in that case, Ben was provided with an excuse. He\ +would say that he was thirsty, and in search of some water, which\ +would have been true enough, though this was not the main object of\ +his expedition.\ +\ +Ben had not taken off his shoes and stockings, and began to descend\ +the ladder with his shoes on, but it occurred to him that his steps\ +might be audible, and he quietly removed both shoes and stockings.\ +He had previously taken Bradley's money, with the exception of a few\ +dollars, without in the least arousing his sleepy comrade, who, in\ +consequence of the potion he had unsuspiciously taken, was still\ +wrapped in unconscious slumber.\ +\ +"Now," thought Ben, "I must do my work as quickly as I can."\ +\ +He was not insensible to the risk he ran, and it was not without a\ +thrill of excitement that he set foot on the floor of the cabin, and\ +looked at the sleeping faces of Jack Carter and his wife. But there\ +was no time to waste. He stepped softly to the door and opened it.\ +\ +Just then the woman stirred in her sleep, and uttered something\ +unintelligible. Ben was alarmed lest she were about to wake up, and\ +stood stock-still, with his fingers on the latch. But there was no\ +further sound. The woman partially turned over, and soon her quiet,\ +regular breathing notified Ben that sleep had resumed its power over\ +her. Probably she had stirred in consequence of some uneasy dream.\ +\ +With a deep breath of relief, Ben opened the door, passed out, and\ +closed it softly after him.\ +\ +He was out of the house, and in the freedom of the woods. Before\ +morning he might have put fifteen miles between him and the cabin of\ +his foes. He would have felt disposed to do so, and avoid all\ +further trouble, if Bradley had been with him, and in condition to\ +travel. As this was not to be thought of, he proceeded to search for\ +a suitable place to secrete his troublesome treasure.\ +\ +The cabin stood in a valley, or canon, in the shadow of gigantic\ +pine-trees, rising straight as a flagpole to the altitude of nearly\ +two hundred feet. They were forest giants, impressive in their lofty\ +stature, and Ben regarded them with wonder and awe. They were much\ +smaller in every way than the so-called big trees to be found in the\ +Calaveras and Mariposa groves; but these had not at that time been\ +discovered, and the pines were the largest trees our hero had ever\ +encountered.\ +\ +Ben looked about him in vain to find a suitable hiding-place in the\ +immediate neighborhood of the cabin. If there had been a large flat\ +rock under which he could have placed the gold pieces, that would\ +have suited him; but there was absolutely nothing of the kind in\ +sight.\ +\ +So Ben wandered away, hardly knowing whither his steps were carrying\ +him, till he must have been at least a quarter of a mile distant\ +from the cabin.\ +\ +Here his attention was attracted by a tree of larger circumference\ +than any he had seen nearer, which showed the ravages of time. The\ +bark was partly worn away, and, approaching nearer, Ben saw that it\ +had begun to decay from within. There was an aperture about a foot\ +above the ground through which he could readily thrust his hand.\ +\ +"That's the very thing!" exclaimed Ben, his eyes lighting up with\ +pleasure. "Nobody would ever think of looking for money there. Here\ +I can hide our gold, and to-morrow, when we set out on our journey,\ +we can take this tree on our way."\ +\ +Ben took from his pockets the gold which belonged to Bradley and\ +himself, and wrapping them securely in a paper which he happened to\ +have with him, he thrust the whole into the cavity in the tree.\ +\ +"There!" said he, "our treasure is much safer there than it would be\ +in our possession, for to-night, at least."\ +\ +Ben carefully took the bearings of the tree, that he might not\ +forget it. There was little difficulty about this, as it was larger\ +than any of its neighbors, not so tall, perhaps, but of greater\ +circumference.\ +\ +"I shall remember it now," he said to himself.\ +\ +As Ben walked back to the humble cabin he became very drowsy. He was\ +quite fatigued with his day's march, and it was now nearly or quite\ +two hours since his companion had fallen asleep.\ +\ +It was fortunate for him that Ben had been more wakeful.\ +\ +"I shall be glad enough to sleep now," thought Ben. "I don't know\ +when I have felt more tired."\ +\ +He reached the cabin door, and listened outside to learn whether any\ +one were stirring. He could still hear the sonorous snore of Jack,\ +and could distinguish the deep breathing of his hostess. All seemed\ +to be safe.\ +\ +He softly opened the door, and closed it after him. Without arousing\ +any one, he made his way up the ladder to the loft, where Bradley\ +lay precisely as he had left him.\ +\ +Ben threw himself down beside him with a deep sigh of satisfaction,\ +and in ten minutes he, too, was sound asleep.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XX.\ +\ +A THIEF'S DISAPPOINTMENT.\ +\ +\ +Jack Garter, regardless of his plans respecting his guests, slept\ +through the night, and it was not till after the sun rose that he\ +opened his eyes. His wife was already up and moving about the room.\ +\ +Jack stretched himself negligently, but all at once his purpose\ +flashed upon him.\ +\ +"Bess, what time is it?" he demanded.\ +\ +"Past six o'clock, as you can see by the sun."\ +\ +"Curse it! what made me fall asleep?" ejaculated Jack, with an oath.\ +"Now it may be too late."\ +\ +"How long have you been awake, Bess?" he asked.\ +\ +"An hour or more."\ +\ +"Why didn't you wake me up?" demanded Jack sharply.\ +\ +"I didn't know you wanted me to," answered his wife. "Only yesterday\ +you swore at me for waking you up an hour later."\ +\ +"Yesterday isn't to-day, and I had something to do," said Jack,\ +looking significantly upward.\ +\ +"Didn't you attend to it last night?"\ +\ +"No; curse my drowsiness! I fell asleep like a natural-born fool\ +that I was."\ +\ +"How could I know that? I was asleep myself."\ +\ +"You always have some excuse," said Jack, rather unreasonably. "Just\ +quit movin' round and makin' a noise. It may not be too late yet."\ +\ +No sound was heard in the loft above. Happily, the two lodgers might\ +still be asleep, so Jack said to himself, and in that case he might\ +still be able to carry out his plan. At any rate, there was no time\ +to lose, and he began softly to ascend the ladder.\ +\ +When his head reached the level of the flooring he looked eagerly at\ +the rude couch where his guests lay. Both were fast asleep. Bradley\ +was still held in the power of the powerful drug which had been\ +mingled with his wine, and Ben had yielded to the sound and\ +healthful slumber which at his age follows fatigue. His boyish face\ +lay on his hand, and he looked innocent and happy. There was a smile\ +about his lips, for he was dreaming of his far-away home.\ +\ +The sight might have appealed to any one less hardened than Jack\ +Carter, calling up memories of his own dead boy, and powerfully\ +appealing to what heart he had left. But Jack felt simply relieved\ +to find that the boy, whose wakefulness he had feared, was sound\ +asleep.\ +\ +"All the better," he muttered. "It isn't too late, after all. Now,\ +Jack Carter, is your time. I hope you'll make a good haul."\ +\ +Treading softly, Jack stepped to the side of Bradley. He thought it\ +best to rid him first, for there was no danger of his waking up.\ +\ +But he was destined to disappointment. The most thorough search\ +brought to light only five dollars in gold.\ +\ +"What has he done with his money?" muttered the thief, with a frown.\ +"Of course, he must have more."\ +\ +The idea came to him that the bulk of the money might have been\ +given to the boy, who was less likely to attract the notice of\ +plunderers. This was a point easily settled, and Jack turned his\ +attention to Ben.\ +\ +Ben was asleep when the search commenced, but his sleep was not as\ +profound as Bradley's, and he woke up. But, luckily, recollection\ +came with consciousness, and summoning all his self-command, he\ +counterfeited sleep, not interfering with Jack or his designs. He\ +was willing to lose the little he had in his pocket, and, besides,\ +he was curious to hear what Jack would say when he found out how\ +inconsiderable was the booty which he secured.\ +\ +It must be admitted that Ben found it difficult to restrain himself\ +from some movement which would have betrayed to the thief that he\ +was awake. Jack, however, being fully convinced that Ben was asleep,\ +did not fix his eyes upon the countenance of his young lodger, and\ +so remained ignorant of his wakefulness.\ +\ +The second search proved no more satisfactory than the first. The\ +boy was no richer than the man.\ +\ +In a low voice Jack indulged in an oath indicating his deep disgust.\ +\ +"I didn't think they were such poor tramps," he said to himself, "or\ +I wouldn't have taken all this trouble. Only ten dollars between the\ +two of them! Why, they're little more than beggars?"\ +\ +Stay! They might have concealed their money. There was no place in\ +the loft, for it was wholly bare of furniture, but their luggage was\ +thrown down carelessly. There were no lodes, and Jack was able to\ +extend his search to their knapsacks; but he found nothing that\ +repaid him. He was forced finally to the conclusion that they were\ +as poor as they seemed.\ +\ +Had Jack Carter been one of those generous highwaymen, of whom we\ +sometimes read, he would have disdained to rob Ben and his friend of\ +their little all. But indeed that was not his style.\ +\ +He coolly pocketed the two gold pieces, which were all he had been\ +able to find, and sullenly descended the ladder.\ +\ +His wife looked at him inquiringly.\ +\ +"Look at that!" he said grumblingly, as he displayed the two gold\ +pieces.\ +\ +"Was it all you could find?"\ +\ +"Yes."\ +\ +"They must be poor."\ +\ +"Poor! They are beggars."\ +\ +The woman, who was not as hard as she looked, was struck with\ +compassion.\ +\ +"Give it back to them, Jack," she entreated. "It is little enough,\ +and they will have need of it."\ +\ +"So do I have need of it," growled her lord and master.\ +\ +"No, you don't, Jack. It isn't worth your taking."\ +\ +"I'm the best judge of that, woman."\ +\ +"They will suffer. I can't bear to have that boy suffer. He reminds\ +me so of our dead son."\ +\ +"You're a fool!" said her husband roughly.\ +\ +"And you have no heart!" said his wife bitterly.\ +\ +"I don't want one if it's going to make a fool of me. Come, hurry up\ +the breakfast, for I must be out of the way before they come down.\ +They'll miss their money, and I don't want to be asked any\ +questions."\ +\ +"What shall I say if they ask me where it is, Jack?"\ +\ +"Anything you like," he answered impatiently. "Say the cat did it,\ +or anything else. Do you think a woman needs teachin' what she is to\ +say?"\ +\ +"They will think we did it," persisted his wife.\ +\ +"Let them. They can't prove anything. Just hurry up that breakfast,\ +I tell you."\ +\ +The wife did as she was ordered, and Jack sat down to his breakfast.\ +He ate heartily, having a conscience that did not trouble him about\ +such trifles as plundering the guests who had slept beneath his\ +roof, and rose to leave the house.\ +\ +"Give 'em some breakfast," he said, as he opened the door; "and tell\ +'em you won't take no pay on account of their loss. That'll about\ +make things square, I reckon. I've taken my pay in advance."\ +\ +He shouldered his gun and went out into the woods.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XXI.\ +\ +BEN'S SAVINGS-BANK.\ +\ +\ +It was not till an hour afterward that Ben rose from his lowly\ +couch, and, by dint of violent shaking, succeeded in rousing\ +Bradley.\ +\ +"Come, Bradley, wake up!" he cried. "The sun is high, and it is time\ +we were on our way."\ +\ +Bradley stretched himself, took a long breath, and said:\ +\ +"I must have had a long sleep."\ +\ +"Yes, you dropped off as soon as you lay down, and have slept ever\ +since."\ +\ +"And did you sleep as soundly?"\ +\ +"No, I was awake twice during the night," answered Ben.\ +\ +"I don't know how it is, but I am sleepy still. Seems to me I don't\ +stand fatigue as well as you. I am sleepy yet, and feel as if I\ +could sleep all the forenoon."\ +\ +"The effects of the drug," thought Ben.\ +\ +Ben considered whether he should tell Bradley what had happened\ +during the night. He decided briefly to say a few words about it in\ +a whisper, and postpone a full explanation till later, for their\ +hostess was below, and could hear any loud word that might be\ +uttered. Bradley was instructed that he must claim to have lost five\ +dollars.\ +\ +"But I had a hundred," said Bradley, feeling in his pockets.\ +\ +"It's all right," whispered Ben. "I'll explain by and by. Not a word\ +of the loss till after breakfast."\ +\ +Bradley was quite bewildered, and utterly failed to understand the\ +situation. But he had considerable faith in his young companion, and\ +was willing to follow Ben's instructions. They descended the ladder,\ +Ben in advance.\ +\ +The woman looked at them sharply, to see if they had yet discovered\ +the robbery, but each seemed unconcerned.\ +\ +"They don't know it yet," she said to herself.\ +\ +"Madam, can you give us some breakfast?" asked Ben politely.\ +\ +"I'll give you such as I have," said Mrs. Carter, feeling a little\ +remorse for her husband's theft, and pity for what she supposed\ +their penniless condition.\ +\ +"That will be perfectly satisfactory, and we shall be much obliged\ +to you."\ +\ +The breakfast was nearly ready in anticipation of their needs, and\ +they partook of it heartily.\ +\ +Now came the critical moment.\ +\ +Ben thrust his hand into his pocket, appearing to search for his\ +money, and, after a brief space, withdrew it in apparent dismay.\ +\ +"I can't find my money," he said.\ +\ +Mrs. Carter's face flushed, but she said nothing. She anticipated\ +their suspicion, and was ashamed.\ +\ +"Bradley," said Ben, "have you your money?"\ +\ +Jake Bradley repeated the search, and he, too, expressed surprise.\ +\ +"I had it when I went to bed," he added.\ +\ +"What is it?" asked the woman slowly, turning to them a troubled\ +face. "Have you lost anything?"\ +\ +"I don't seem to find my money, ma'am," answered Bradley.\ +\ +"Nor I mine," said Ben. "It's curious."\ +\ +Mrs. Carter could not tell by their manner whether they suspected\ +anything, but she had her story ready. It was an invention, but life\ +with Jack Carter had left her few compunctions about such a simple\ +matter as telling a lie.\ +\ +"I missed something myself," she said. "We don't lock our door of\ +nights, and I reckon some tramp got in last night, when we were\ +asleep, and robbed us all. Have you lost much, you two?"\ +\ +"Not much, ma'am. There wasn't much to take."\ +\ +"It's a pity. I am sorry it happened under my roof. But we slept\ +very sound last night, Jack and me, and that's the way it must have\ +come."\ +\ +She looked at them critically, to detect, if she could, whether they\ +suspected her husband or herself, but both the travelers were on\ +their guard.\ +\ +"Did you have much taken, ma'am?" asked Bradley.\ +\ +"No," she answered hurriedly, rather ashamed of the imposture. "We\ +ain't rich, Jack nor I."\ +\ +"What I am most sorry for," said Ben, "is that we have nothing to\ +pay for our accommodations."\ +\ +"You're welcome to your lodging and what you've ate," said the woman\ +sincerely. "And, if you like, I'll put up some luncheon for you to\ +eat by and by."\ +\ +"Thank you, ma'am, it will be very acceptable," answered Bradley.\ +\ +"She's better than her husband," thought Ben.\ +\ +"After all, we haven't lost much, for we shall get nearly the worth\ +of our lost money."\ +\ +The woman remarked, with some surprise, that they did not take their\ +loss much to heart.\ +\ +"How do you expect to get along without money?" she could not help\ +asking.\ +\ +"We're used to roughing it, ma'am," said Bradley. "I'm an old miner,\ +and I think I can find some of my old chums before long."\ +\ +By this time luncheon was ready, and they soon left the cabin.\ +\ +Bradley could no longer repress his curiosity.\ +\ +"Now, Ben, tell me all about it," he said. "Where is our money?"\ +\ +Ben looked back, to make sure that he would not be overheard, and\ +answered: "I put it in the bank for security, Jake."\ +\ +"What do you mean?"\ +\ +"If I am not very much mistaken, we shall find it hidden in a hole\ +in a tree, quarter of a mile away."\ +\ +"Who put it there?" asked his companion, in surprise.\ +\ +"I did."\ +\ +"When?"\ +\ +"Last night, about midnight, as near as I can guess."\ +\ +Ben laughed at his companion's evident perplexity, and told him in\ +detail the story of the night's adventure.\ +\ +"Ben, I'm proud of you," said Bradley, slapping our hero on the\ +back. "There are not many grown men that would have known what to do\ +under the circumstances."\ +\ +"I confess that I was very much puzzled myself," said Ben modestly.\ +"I could have done nothing if our honest host hadn't fallen asleep."\ +\ +"He would feel rather provoked if he knew that nearly all of our\ +money is untouched," said Bradley; "that is, if we find it again."\ +\ +"There's no fear of that," said Ben. "Do you see that tree yonder?"\ +\ +"The large one?"\ +\ +"Yes."\ +\ +"That is my savings-bank."\ +\ +They quickened their steps till they reached the stately monarch of\ +the forest. Ben quickly thrust his hand into the cavity and drew out\ +the precious parcel which he had committed to it during the night.\ +It was precisely as he had placed it there. No one had touched it.\ +\ +"Now," said Ben, "I will give you ninety-five dollars. That is the\ +amount of which I picked your pocket last night."\ +\ +"You are a pickpocket of the right sort," said his companion. "You\ +took my money in order to save it."\ +\ +Their money recovered, they started on their day's march, and\ +nightfall found them twenty miles nearer their destination.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XXII.\ +\ +THE ARRIVAL AT MURPHY'S.\ +\ +\ +One morning about eleven o'clock they came in sight of Murphy's. It\ +was only a mining-settlement of the most primitive description. A\ +few tents and cabins, with rough, bearded men scattered here and\ +there, intent upon working their claims, gave it a picturesque\ +appearance, which it has lost now. It was then a more important\ +place than at present, however, for the surface diggings are\ +exhausted, and it is best known-to-day by its vicinity to the famous\ +Calaveras grove of big trees.\ +\ +"So this is Murphy's?" said Ben, rather disappointed. "It doesn't\ +seem to be much of a place."\ +\ +"You didn't expect to see a regular town, did you?" asked Bradley.\ +\ +"I don't know. I hardly knew what to expect. It seems a rough\ +place."\ +\ +"And I suppose the people seem rough, too?"\ +\ +"Yes."\ +\ +"So they are in appearance; but you can't tell what a man has been,\ +by his looks here. Why, the man that worked the next claim to me was\ +a college graduate, and not far away was another who had been mayor\ +of a Western city."\ +\ +"And were they dressed like these men here?" asked Ben.\ +\ +"Quite as roughly. It won't do to wear store-clothes at the mines."\ +\ +"No, I suppose not; but these men look like immigrants just come\ +over."\ +\ +Bradley laughed.\ +\ +"Wait till we have been at work a little while, and we shall look no\ +better," he said, laughing.\ +\ +"What is that?" asked Ben suddenly, stopping short while an\ +expression of horror came over his face.\ +\ +Bradley followed the direction of his finger, and saw suspended from\ +a tree the inanimate body of a man, the features livid and\ +distorted, and wearing an expression of terror and dismay, as if his\ +fate had come upon him without time for preparation.\ +\ +"I reckon that's a thief," answered Bradley unconcernedly.\ +\ +"A thief! Do they hang people for stealing out here?"\ +\ +"Yes, they have to. You see, my lad, there ain't any laws here, nor\ +courts. If a man steals, the miners just take the matter into their\ +own hands, and if there ain't a doubt of it, they hang him as soon\ +as they catch him."\ +\ +"It's horrible!" said Ben, who had never before seen the victim of a\ +violent death.\ +\ +"Maybe it is, but what can we do?"\ +\ +"Put him in prison," suggested Ben.\ +\ +"There ain't any prisons, and, if there were, there would be nobody\ +to keep them."\ +\ +Just then Bradley was hailed by a rough-looking man, whom at home\ +Ben would have taken for a tramp.\ +\ +"What, Bradley, back again? I didn't expect to see you here?"\ +\ +"I didn't expect to come, Hunter, but I fooled away my money in\ +'Frisco, and have come back for more."\ +\ +"And who's this boy-your son, or nephew?"\ +\ +"No; he's no kin to me. I ran across him down to 'Frisco. Ben, let\ +me make you acquainted with my old chum, Frank Hunter. He isn't much\ +to look at, but-"\ +\ +"I have seen better days," interrupted Hunter, smiling. "I was\ +rather a dandy in my college days at old Yale, though I don't look\ +like it now."\ +\ +Ben regarded him with surprise. He had not dreamed that this\ +sun-brown, bearded man, in the roughest of mining-garbs, had ever\ +seen the inside of a college.\ +\ +Hunter smiled at the boy's evident surprise.\ +\ +"I don't look like a college graduate, do I? But I assure you I am\ +not the worst-dressed man in camp. My friend, the mayor, is\ +rougher-looking than I. Some time I hope to return to the haunts of\ +civilization, and then I will try to conform to habits which I have\ +almost forgotten."\ +\ +"How are you making out, Hunter?" asked Bradley.\ +\ +"Pretty well. I have made more here in six months than I did by\ +three years' practise of law before I came out here."\ +\ +"Do you like it as well, Mr. Hunter?" Ben could not help asking\ +curiously.\ +\ +"No, I don't; but then, it's only for a time, as I say to myself\ +when I get tired of the rough life I am leading. When I've made a\ +respectable pile I shall start for 'Frisco, and take passage home,\ +put up my shingle again, and wait for clients with money enough to\ +pay my board while I'm waiting. A young lawyer needs that always."\ +\ +"Perhaps you'll be Judge Hunter, in time," said Bradley.\ +\ +"I've served in that capacity already," said Hunter unexpectedly,\ +"and that not longer ago than yesterday. Do you see that poor wretch\ +up there?" and he pointed to the suspended body already referred to.\ +\ +"Yes; what did he do?"\ +\ +"He was a notorious thief-served a term in the penitentiary East for\ +stealing, and came out here to practise his profession. But this\ +climate is unhealthy for gentlemen in that line of business."\ +\ +"Did he rob anybody here?"\ +\ +"Yes; you remember Johnson?"\ +\ +"Is he still here?"\ +\ +"He is about ready to go home, with money enough to lift the\ +mortgage from his farm. We all knew it, for Johnson was so happy\ +that he took everybody into his confidence. He had all his money\ +tied up in a bag which he kept in his tent.\ +\ +"Imprudent, of course, but we haven't any banks or safes here,"\ +added Hunter, meeting the question in Ben's eyes. "Well, this\ +rascal, Ross, wormed himself into his confidence, found out exactly\ +where the bag was kept, and night before last, in the middle of the\ +night, he crept to the tent, and was in the act of carrying off the\ +bag, when, as luck would have it, my friend, the mayor, who was\ +taking a night walk in the hope of curing a severe headache, came\ +upon him.\ +\ +"Ross showed fight, but was overpowered, and tied securely till\ +morning. When morning came we tried him, I being judge. He was found\ +guilty, and sentenced to be hung. The sentence was carried into\ +effect in the afternoon. He won't steal any more, I reckon."\ +\ +Ben took another hasty look at the dangling criminal whose end had\ +been so sudden and horrible, and he shuddered.\ +\ +"Why don't you take him down?" he asked.\ +\ +"It was ordered that he hang for twenty-four hours, as a warning to\ +any others in camp who might be tempted to steal. The time isn't up\ +yet.\ +\ +"You are a young gold-hunter," said Hunter, scanning over hero's\ +youthful face.\ +\ +"Yes, I am," Ben confessed; "but I had to earn a living, and I\ +thought I could do it better here than at home."\ +\ +"Are you from the East?"\ +\ +"I am from Hampton, in New York State."\ +\ +"I know something of Hampton," said Hunter. "I have never been\ +there; but I have a distant relative living there."\ +\ +"Who is it?" asked Ben, with interest. "I know everybody there."\ +\ +"I dare say you know my relative, for I am given to understand that\ +he is the great man of Hampton."\ +\ +"Mayor Sturgis?"\ +\ +"Yes, that is his name. He married a cousin of my mother, so the\ +relationship is not very close. He is rich, isn't he?"\ +\ +"He is the richest man in Hampton."\ +\ +"I suppose he is aware of that fact," said Hunter, laughing.\ +\ +"If he isn't, his son, Sam, is," replied Ben. "Sam wanted to engage\ +me as his servant before I came away. He wanted me to black his\ +boots."\ +\ +"And you objected, I suppose?"\ +\ +"I wouldn't work for Sam Sturgis for a hundred dollars a month!"\ +said Ben emphatically.\ +\ +"Then you don't like him?"\ +\ +"He is very big-feeling," said Ben, using a boy's word, "and likes\ +to boss all the rest of the boys. He thinks he is far above us all."\ +\ +"He ought to come out here. California takes the airs out of a man\ +if he has any. We are all on an equality here, and the best man\ +wins-I mean the man of the most pluck-for success doesn't depend on\ +moral excellence exactly. Well, old friend, are you going to settle\ +down among us again?"\ +\ +It was to Bradley this question was addressed.\ +\ +"I don't know. I'm here on a little matter of business, along of\ +this boy. Is Richard Dewey here now?"\ +\ +"Dewey? No. He had poor luck, and he dusted a month ago."\ +\ +Ben and his companion exchanged glances of disappointment.\ +\ +"Where did he go?" asked Bradley, who was evidently getting\ +discouraged.\ +\ +"He was going to the mountains," he said. "He had been studying up\ +something about minerals, and he had an idea that he'd find a rich\ +ledge among the Sierras that would pay better than this\ +surface-mining."\ +\ +"Is there anybody that knows what direction he took?"\ +\ +"My friend, the mayor, knows as well as any man. Dewey was his next\ +neighbor, and often talked over his plans with him."\ +\ +"Then we will go and see the mayor."\ +\ +"No need of going, here he comes."\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XXIII.\ +\ +AMONG THE SIERRAS.\ +\ +\ +Ben had heard of mayors, and once he had seen one, a pompous-looking\ +man who had once served in that capacity in an inland city of some\ +twenty thousand inhabitants, and he supposed that all mayors were\ +alike. He could hardly believe his eyes, therefore, when he saw\ +before him a man of medium height, dressed in a ragged shirt and\ +trousers, and wearing a hat once white, but now dirt-begrimed.\ +\ +"Friends of yours, judge?" said the newcomer, speaking to Hunter,\ +and indicating by a nod Ben and his companion.\ +\ +"You ought to know one of them, mayor," said Hunter.\ +\ +"Why, it's Bradley," said the mayor, extending his hand cordially.\ +"Glad to see you back again."\ +\ +Bradley shook hands, and introduced Ben.\ +\ +"I'm told you can tell me where to find Richard Dewey, colonel," said\ +Bradley, employing another title of the mayor.\ +\ +"I can't just say where he is," said the mayor; "but I can tell you\ +where he meant to go."\ +\ +"That will help us."\ +\ +"You don't mean him any harm?" asked the mayor quickly.\ +\ +"Far from it. We have the best news for him."\ +\ +"Because Dick Dewey is a friend of mine, and I wouldn't bring him\ +into trouble for the richest claim in Californy."\ +\ +"That's where we agree, colonel. The fact is, there's a young lady\ +in 'Frisco who has come out on purpose to find him-his sweetheart,\ +and an heiress, at that. Me and Ben have agreed to find him for her,\ +and that's the long and short of it."\ +\ +"Then I'm with you, Bradley. I've seen the girl's picture. Dick\ +showed it to me one day, and she does credit to his taste. He's had\ +bad luck at the mines; but-"\ +\ +"That won't matter when them two meet," said Bradley. "She's better\ +than any claim he can find this side the mountains."\ +\ +Bradley and our young hero spent the remainder of the day and the\ +night at Murphy's, hospitably provided for by the judge and the\ +mayor, and Ben listened with avidity to the stories of the miners\ +and their varying luck. If he had not been in search of Richard\ +Dewey, he would have tarried at Murphy's, selected a claim, and gone\ +to work the very next day. He was anxious to have his share in the\ +rough but fascinating life which these men were leading. To him it\ +seemed like a constant picnic, with the prospect of drawing a golden\ +prize any day, provided you attended to business.\ +\ +"That will come by and by," he thought to himself. "We must find\ +Cousin Ida's beau, and then we can attend to business."\ +\ +Somehow, it seemed more natural to use the first name by which he\ +had known the young lady who employed him than the real name which\ +he had learned later. It may be necessary to remind the reader that\ +her name was Florence Douglas.\ +\ +The next morning, after breakfast, the two friends left Murphy's,\ +and bent their course toward the mountains where they were told that\ +Richard Dewey was likely to be found. The direction given them was,\ +it must be confessed, not very definite, and the chances seemed very\ +much against their succeeding in the object of their search.\ +\ +A week later we will look in upon them toward nightfall. They were\ +among the mountains now.\ +\ +After the close of a laborious day they had tethered their animals\ +to a tree, and were considering a very important subject, namely,\ +where to find anything that would serve for supper. Their supply of\ +provisions was exhausted, and there was no means of purchasing a\ +fresh supply.\ +\ +Bradley took out his supply of gold, and surveyed it ruefully.\ +\ +"Ben," said he, "I never knew before how little good there is in\ +bein' rich. Here we've both got money, and we can't get anything for\ +it. It's cheap traveling for we haven't spent anything sence we've\ +left Murphy's."\ +\ +"I wish we could spend some of our money," said Ben uneasily. "If\ +there was only a baker's, or an eating-house here, I'd be willing to\ +pay five dollars for a good square meal."\ +\ +"So would I. Somehow, gold don't look as good to me as it used to.\ +We may starve to death with money in our pockets."\ +\ +Ben's eyes were fixed upon a slender brook not far away that\ +threaded its silvery way down a gentle incline from the midst of\ +underbrush.\ +\ +"I wonder if we can't catch some trout," he said. "Don't they have\ +trout in these mountains?"\ +\ +"To be sure they do; and the best in the world," said Bradley\ +briskly. "The California mountain trout can't be beat."\ +\ +"But we have no fishing-tackle," suggested Ben.\ +\ +"Never mind, we have our guns."\ +\ +"How will that help us?"\ +\ +"We can shoot them, to be sure."\ +\ +Ben looked surprised.\ +\ +"Didn't you ever shoot pickerel? We can shoot trout in the same way.\ +Come, Ben, follow me, and we'll see if we can't have a good supper,\ +after all."\ +\ +Leaving their mustangs to gather a supper from the scanty herbage in\ +their neighborhood, the two friends made their way to the brook. It\ +had seemed very near, but proved to be fully a quarter of a mile\ +away. When they reached it they brought their guns into requisition,\ +and soon obtained an appetizing mess of trout, which only needed the\ +service of fire to make a meal fit for an epicure.\ +\ +"I can hardly wait to have them cooked," sard Ben. "I'm as hungry as\ +a hunter. I understand what that means now."\ +\ +"I sha'n't have any trouble in keeping up with you, Ben," said his\ +companion. "We'll have a supper fit for a king."\ +\ +They gathered some dry sticks, and soon a fire was blazing, which,\ +in the cool night air, sent out a welcome heat.\ +\ +After supper they lay down on their backs and looked up into the\ +darkening sky. Ben felt that it was a strange situation. They were\ +in the heart of the Sierras, miles, perhaps many miles, away from\ +any human being, thousands of miles away from the quiet village\ +where Ben had first seen the light. Yet he did not feel disturbed or\ +alarmed. His wanderings had inspired self-reliance, and he did not\ +allow himself to be troubled with anxious cares about the future. If\ +by a wish he could have been conveyed back to his uncle's house in\ +the far East, he would have declined to avail himself of the\ +privilege. He had started out to make a living for himself, and he\ +was satisfied that if he persevered he would succeed in the end.\ +\ +"What are you thinking about, Ben?" asked Bradley, after a long\ +pause.\ +\ +"I was thinking how strange it seems to be out here among the\ +mountains," answered Ben, still gazing on the scenery around him.\ +\ +"I don't see anything strange about it," said his less imaginative\ +comrade. "Seein' we came here on our horses, it would be strange to\ +be anywhere else."\ +\ +"I mean it is strange to think we are so far away from everybody."\ +\ +"I don't foller you, Ben. I suppose it's sorter lonelylike, but that\ +ain't new to me."\ +\ +"I never realized how big the world was when I lived at home," said\ +Ben, in a slow, thoughtful way.\ +\ +"Yes, it's a pretty largish place, that's a fact."\ +\ +"What were you thinking of, Jake?" asked Ben, in his turn.\ +\ +"I was thinkin' of two things: whereabouts Dewey has managed to hide\ +himself, and then it occurred to me how consolin' it would be to me\ +if I could light on a pound of smokin'-tobacco. I've got a pipe, but\ +it ain't no good without tobacco."\ +\ +"That don't trouble me much, Jake," said Ben, with a smile.\ +\ +"It's the next thing to a good supper, Ben," said Bradley; "but I\ +might as well wish for the moon."\ +\ +"You needn't wish in vain for that," said Ben, pointing out the orb\ +of evening, with its pale-yellow light peeping over the tall\ +tree-tops, and irradiating the scene with its pensive shimmer.\ +\ +"I can see it, but that don't help me any," said Bradley. "If I saw\ +a world made of tobacco up in yonder sky, it would only make me feel\ +worse because I couldn't get any."\ +\ +"What was it you was a-wishin' for, friend?" asked an unfamiliar\ +voice.\ +\ +Bradley sprang to his feet, and Ben followed suit.\ +\ +They saw two strange figures, clad in Spanish style, with large,\ +napping sombreros on their heads, who unheard, had descended the\ +mountains, and were now close upon them.\ +\ +"Who are you?" asked Bradley doubtfully.\ +\ +"Friends," was the reassuring reply. "We'll join your little party\ +if you have no objection. I'd invite you to take a drink if there\ +was any saloon handy. As there isn't, jest help yourself to this,"\ +and he drew out a pouch of smoking-tobacco.\ +\ +"Just what I was wantin'," said Bradley, delighted. "You're welcome,\ +whoever you are."\ +\ +"Ben, can't you get together some sticks and light the fire? It's\ +coolish."\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XXIV.\ +\ +BEATEN AT HIS OWN GAME.\ +\ +\ +Bradley was of a social disposition, and even without the gift of\ +tobacco would have been glad of an addition to their small party.\ +\ +"I'm glad to see you," he said, repeating his welcome. "I wonder I\ +didn't hear you comin'. Have you been long in Californy?"\ +\ +"Well onto a year," said the one who seemed the elder of the two.\ +"How is it with you, stranger?"\ +\ +"I have been here about as long," answered Bradley. "Ben has only\ +just come out."\ +\ +"What luck have you had?" pursued the questioner.\ +\ +"Good and bad. I made quite a pile, and went to 'Frisco and gambled\ +it away like a fool. Now I've come back for another trial."\ +\ +'"What might your name be?"\ +\ +"Bradley-Jake Bradley. It isn't much of a name, but it'll do for me.\ +The boy is Ben Stanton--come from the East."\ +\ +"My name is Bill Mosely," said the other. "My friend's Tom Hadley.\ +We're both from Missouri, and, though I say it, we're about as\ +wide-awake as they make 'em. We don't stand no back talk, Tom and\ +me. When a man insults me, I drop him," and the speaker rolled his\ +eyes in what was meant to stimulate ferocity.\ +\ +Bradley eyed him shrewdly, and was not quite so much impressed as\ +Mosely intended him to be. He had observed that the greatest\ +boasters did not always possess the largest share of courage.\ +\ +"Isn't that so, Tom?" asked Bill Mosely, appealing to his friend.\ +\ +"I should say so," answered Tom, nodding emphatically.\ +\ +"You've seen me in a scrimmage more than once?"\ +\ +"I should say I have."\ +\ +"Did you ever see me shoot a man that riled me?"\ +\ +"Dozens of times," returned Hadley, who appeared to play second\ +fiddle to his terrible companion.\ +\ +"That's the kind of man I am," said Bill Mosely, in a tone of\ +complacency.\ +\ +Still, Bradley did not seem particularly nervous or frightened. He\ +was fast making up his mind that Mosely was a cheap bully, whose\ +words were more terrible than his deeds. Ben had less experience of\ +men, and he regarded the speaker as a reckless desperado, ready to\ +use his knife or pistol on the least provocation. He began to think\ +he would have preferred solitude to such society. He was rather\ +surprised to hear Bradley say quietly:\ +\ +"Mosely, you're a man after my own heart. That's the kind of man I\ +be. If a man don't treat me right, I shoot him in his tracks. One\ +day I was drinkin' in a saloon among the foothills, when I saw a man\ +winkin' at me. I waited to see if he would do it again. When he did,\ +I hauled out my revolver and shot him dead."\ +\ +"You did?" exclaimed Mosely uneasily.\ +\ +"Of course I did; but I was rather sorry afterward when I heard that\ +his eyelids were weak and he couldn't help it."\ +\ +"Did you get into any trouble about it, stranger?" asked Mosely,\ +with a shade of anxiety.\ +\ +"No; none of the party dared touch me. Besides, I did the handsome\ +thing. I had the man buried, and put a stone over him. I couldn't do\ +any more, could I?"\ +\ +"No," said Mosely dubiously, and he drew a little farther away from\ +Bradley.\ +\ +"What do you find to eat?" he inquired, after a pause. "Tom and I\ +are as hungry as if we hadn't eaten anything for a week. You haven't\ +got any provisions left over?"\ +\ +"No; but you can have as good a supper as we had, and we had a good\ +one. What do you say to trout, now?"\ +\ +Bill Mosely smacked his lips.\ +\ +"Jest show me where I'll find some," he said.\ +\ +Bradley pointed to the brook from which he had drawn his supply.\ +\ +"I don't mind helping you," he said. "Ben, are you tired?"\ +\ +"No, Jake."\ +\ +"Then come along, and we'll try to get some supper for our friends."\ +\ +"All right!" said Ben cheerfully.\ +\ +In a short time a fresh supply of trout was drawn from the brook,\ +and they were roughly cooked at the fire, Bradley officiating as\ +cook.\ +\ +"Now, my friends, set up," said he. "I'm sorry I can't give you any\ +potatoes, but the barrel's out, and it's too late to get any at the\ +store. Likewise, you must excuse the puddin', as it's too late to\ +make any."\ +\ +The two visitors appeared to think no apologies were needful, for\ +they made short work with the trout. From the manner in which they\ +devoured their supper, it was quite evident that it was some time\ +since they had eaten. Ben and Bradley did not join them, having\ +already eaten heartily.\ +\ +"I hope you relished your supper, gentlemen," said Bradley politely.\ +\ +"I should say we did," responded Tom Hadley.\ +\ +"I say, them trout beat the world."\ +\ +"I'll shoot the man that says they don't!" said Bill Mosely,\ +relapsing into his old tone.\ +\ +"So will I!" exclaimed Bradley, springing to his feet and\ +brandishing his revolver.\ +\ +Ben began to see that he was playing a part, and, with assumed\ +gravity, he looked to see what effect it would have on their new\ +friend.\ +\ +"I say, stranger, don't handle that weapon of yours so careless,"\ +said Mosely uneasily.\ +\ +"I guess you're right," said Bradley, appearing to calm down. "Once\ +I was swingin' my gun kinder careless, and it went off and hit my\ +friend, Jim Saunders, in his shoulder. Might have been worse. He had\ +a narrer escape. But Jim couldn't complain. I jest took care of him,\ +night and day, till he got well. I couldn't do any more'n that, now,\ +could I?"\ +\ +"I reckon he'd rather you hadn't shot him," said Mosely dryly.\ +\ +"I reckon you're right," said Bradley, with equanimity. "Such little\ +accidents will happen sometimes, Mosely. Somehow, you can't always\ +help it."\ +\ +"It's best to be keerful," observed Mosely uneasily.\ +\ +"I should say so," echoed his friend, Tom Hadley.\ +\ +"Right you both are!" said Bradley affably. "I say, Mosely, I like\ +you. You're jest such a sort of man as I am. You'd jest as lieve\ +shoot a man as to eat your dinner; now, wouldn't you?"\ +\ +"If he'd insulted me," said Mosely hesitatingly.\ +\ +"Of course. Come, now, how many men have you killed, first and\ +last?"\ +\ +"About twenty, I should think," answered the bully, who seemed to\ +grow meeker and more peaceable as Bradley's apparent reckless\ +ferocity increased.\ +\ +"Only twenty!" exclaimed Bradley contemptuously. "Why, that's\ +nothing at all!"\ +\ +"How many have you killed?" asked Mosely uneasily.\ +\ +"Seventy or eighty, I should say," answered Bradley carelessly. "Of\ +course, a man can't keep an account of all these little affairs. I\ +did once think I'd keep a list, but I got tired of it after a short\ +time, and gave it up after I'd got up to forty-seven."\ +\ +"Where was you raised, stranger?" asked Mosely.\ +\ +"In Kentucky-glorious old Kentuck! and if there's a man dares to say\ +a word against my State, I'll take his life!" and Bradley sprang to\ +his feet.\ +\ +"Lay down again, stranger," interposed Bill Mosely hastily. "There's\ +no one here wants to say a word agin' Kentuck. It's a glorious old\ +State, as you say. Isn't it, Tom?"\ +\ +"I should say so," responded Tom Hadley, using his customary\ +formula.\ +\ +"Are you in search of gold, Mosely?" asked Bradley, in a more quiet\ +manner.\ +\ +"We're kinder prospectin' among the hills," answered Mosely.\ +\ +"You haven't come across anything yet, have you?"\ +\ +"Not yet. Have you?"\ +\ +"We're looking for a friend that's gone ahead. Maybe he's struck it\ +rich. When we find him we'll turn in and help him."\ +\ +"You've got one advantage of us, stranger. You've got hosses, and\ +we've had to walk."\ +\ +"Why didn't you buy animals?"\ +\ +"We did, but they were stolen from us a little way back."\ +\ +"If our hosses should be stolen," said Bradley, "the thieves would\ +die within a week."\ +\ +Mosely and his friend looked at each other in silence, and the\ +conversation languished.\ +\ +"Ben," said Bradley, after the two visitors were fast asleep, "shall\ +I tell you what I think of these two men?"\ +\ +"Well, Bradley?"\ +\ +"They are thieves, and they meant to steal our hosses."\ +\ +"Won't they do it now?"\ +\ +Bradley laughed.\ +\ +"They'll be afraid to," he answered. "I've beaten them at their own\ +game, and they think I'm as desperate a bully as they pretend to be.\ +No; they won't think it safe to interfere with our property."\ +\ +"How many men did you say you had killed, Jake?" asked Ben, with a\ +smile.\ +\ +"That was all talk. Thank Heaven, I haven't the blood of any fellow\ +creature on my hands!"\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XXV.\ +\ +THE HORSE-THIEVES.\ +\ +\ +All four slept soundly, but the visitors awoke first.\ +\ +"Are you awake, Tom?" inquired Mosely.\ +\ +"I should say so," answered his friend.\ +\ +Bill Mosely raised himself on his elbow and surveyed Ben and\ +Bradley. Their deep, tranquil breathing showed that they were sound\ +asleep.\ +\ +Mosely next glanced at the mustangs which were tethered near-by.\ +\ +"Tom," said he, "I wish we had them mustangs. It's a deal easier\ +ridin' than walkin'."\ +\ +"I should say so."\ +\ +"When I struck this party last night I meant to have 'em; but this\ +man is such a bloody ruffian that I don't know as it would be safe."\ +\ +Hadley said nothing. His customary phrase would not apply, and he\ +was a man of few words, besides.\ +\ +"What did he say he would do if a fellow stole his horses, Tom?"\ +\ +"Said he'd die within a week," answered Had-ley, with unfailing\ +memory.\ +\ +Bill Mosely looked discouraged. He privately thought Bradley was\ +just the man to keep his word, and he did not fancy getting into\ +difficulty with him.\ +\ +"That depends on whether he caught him," he said, after a while,\ +hopefully.\ +\ +"I should say so, Bill."\ +\ +"Now," said Mosely, lowering his voice, "if we could get away while\ +they are asleep, there wouldn't be much chance of their knowin'\ +where we were."\ +\ +"That's so, Bill."\ +\ +"Anyway, if we don't take 'em we may be overtaken by the party that\ +we borrowed some gold-dust from."\ +\ +Tom Hadley responded in his customary manner.\ +\ +"And that would be mighty bad luck," continued Mosely, with a\ +shudder.\ +\ +"I should say so, Bill."\ +\ +In fact, Mosely felt that their situation was not likely to be made\ +worse by a new theft. Only thirty miles away was a party of miners\ +with whom they had worked in company, but without much success,\ +till, emboldened by temptation and opportunity, they had stolen a\ +bag of gold-dust from a successful comrade, and fled under cover of\ +the night.\ +\ +In the primitive state of society at the mines, stealing was a\ +capital offense, and if they were caught their lives would probably\ +pay the penalty. Even now some of the injured party might be on\ +their track, and this naturally inspired them with uneasiness. Thus\ +they were between two fires, and, in spite of the fear with which\ +Bradley had inspired them, it looked as if another theft would\ +conduce to their safety. If they carried away the mustangs, Bradley\ +and Ben, even if they hit on the right trail, would have to pursue\ +them on foot, and among the Sierras a man is no match for a mustang\ +in speed and endurance.\ +\ +"I've a great mind to carry off them mustangs," said Mosely\ +thoughtfully. "Are you with me?"\ +\ +"I should say so."\ +\ +"Why don't you ever say something else, Tom?" demanded Mosely\ +impatiently.\ +\ +"What do you want me to say?" asked Hadley, in surprise.\ +\ +"Well, never mind; it's your way, I suppose, and I can rely upon\ +you."\ +\ +"I should say so."\ +\ +Mosely shrugged his shoulders. It was clearly idle to expect any\ +great variety in Tom Hadley's conversation.\ +\ +"Whatever we do must be done quickly," he said, in a quiet, decided\ +tone. "They'll wake up before long, and there won't be any chance.\ +You, Tom, take that near animal, and I'll tackle the other. Jest\ +untie them quiet and easy, and when I say the word start. Do you\ +understand?"\ +\ +"I should say so, Bill," said Hadley, nodding.\ +\ +"Then here goes."\ +\ +In a few seconds they had loosened the mustangs and had sprung upon\ +their backs.\ +\ +"Now, go!" exclaimed Mosely, in a energetic whisper.\ +\ +So on their stolen horses they drew stealthily away from the camp\ +till they were perhaps a furlong away, and then, putting the\ +mustangs to their speed, they soon put a distance of miles between\ +them and their sleeping owners. They would have liked to remain long\ +enough to have a trout breakfast, but that was impracticable.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XXVI.\ +\ +WHAT NEXT?\ +\ +\ +Some persons are said to have premonitions of coming ill, but this\ +could not be said in the present instance of Bradley and his young\ +companion. Bradley had the shrewdness to read the real cowardice of\ +Mosely, who was the leader, and did not dream that he would have the\ +courage to take the horses. But then, he did not know the danger in\ +which their two visitors had placed themselves by their recent\ +theft. Danger will strengthen the courage of the timid, and, in this\ +case, it decided Mosely to commit a new theft.\ +\ +The robbers were quite five miles away when Ben opened his eyes.\ +\ +He looked about him with sleepy eyes, and it was only by an effort\ +that he remembered the events of the previous evening.\ +\ +It was with no misgiving that he looked for the horses. When he\ +realized that they were gone, his heart gave a great bound, and he\ +rose on his elbow. Next he looked for Mosely and Hadley, but, of\ +course, in vain.\ +\ +"They've stolen the mustangs!" he said to himself, in genuine\ +dismay, and instantly seizing Bradley by the shoulder, shook him\ +energetically.\ +\ +"What's the matter, Ben?" demanded Bradley, in amazement. "You\ +needn't be quite so rough."\ +\ +"It's time you were awake!" said Ben hurriedly. "Those fellows have\ +stolen our mustangs!"\ +\ +"What's that you say?" ejaculated Bradley, now thoroughly awake.\ +\ +"The mustangs are gone, and they are gone!" said Ben.\ +\ +"When did you find it out?"\ +\ +"Only just now. I was sleepy, and overslept myself."\ +\ +"Half-past seven o'clock," said Bradley, referring to a cheap silver\ +watch which he had bought for a trifle from a miner at Murphy's who\ +was hard up. "I'm afraid they must have been gone some time. It's a\ +bad lookout for us, Ben."\ +\ +"So it is, Jake. You thought they wouldn't dare to take anything."\ +\ +"No more I thought they would. That Bill Mosely bragged so much I\ +didn't think he had enough pluck."\ +\ +"Does it take much pluck to be a thief, Jake?"\ +\ +"Well, in Californy it does," answered Bradley. "When a man steals a\ +boss here, he takes his life in his hand, and don't you forget it.\ +If it was only a year in the penitentiary, or something like that,\ +it wouldn't scare 'em so bad. That Mosely's a bad lot, and will\ +likely die in his boots."\ +\ +"What's that?"\ +\ +"Be shot standing, or swing from the branch of a tree. I thought I'd\ +said enough last night to put him off the notion of playin' us such\ +a trick."\ +\ +"Probably he thought there wouldn't be any chance of our catching\ +him when we were reduced to walk."\ +\ +"It's likely you're right, Ben, and I ought to have thought of that.\ +I jest wish I could set eyes on the critter at this particular\ +minute. To treat us that way after our kindness, that's what riles\ +me."\ +\ +"What shall we do, Jake?"\ +\ +"That's to be considered. Blamed if I know, unless we foot it, and\ +that will be no joke, over these hills and through these forests."\ +\ +"We may come upon their track, and overtake them when they are not\ +expecting it."\ +\ +"I wish we might," said Bradley, the lines about his mouth\ +tightening. "I'd give 'em a lesson."\ +\ +"They are two men," said Ben thoughtfully, "and we are only a man\ +and a boy."\ +\ +"That is so, Ben; but I'll match you against Hadley. He don't amount\ +to a row of pins; and if I can't tackle Bill Mosely, then I'll never\ +show myself in 'Frisco again."\ +\ +"I don't mind so much the loss of the mustangs," said Ben, "but I'm\ +sorry that we shall be delayed in our search for Richard Dewey."\ +\ +"That's bad, too. I expect that nice young lady in 'Frisco is\ +a-waitin' anxiously to hear from him. Plague take that rascal\ +Mosely!" he broke out, in fresh exasperation.\ +\ +"Well, Jake, suppose we get some breakfast, and then consider what\ +we will do."\ +\ +"That's a good thought, Ben. We can't do much on an empty stomach,\ +that's a fact."\ +\ +For reasons which need not be specified, it was decided that the\ +breakfast should consist of trout. Despite their loss, both had a\ +good appetite, and when that was satisfied they became more hopeful.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XXVII.\ +\ +KI SING.\ +\ +\ +Leaving Ben and his companion for a time, we go back to record an\ +incident which will prove to have a bearing upon the fortunes of\ +those in whom we are interested.\ +\ +One morning two men, Taylor and O'Reilly, who had been out\ +prospecting, came into camp, conveying between them, very much as\ +two policemen conduct a prisoner, a terrifled-looking Chinaman,\ +whose eyes, rolling helplessly from one to the other, seemed to\ +indicate that he considered his position a very perilous one.\ +\ +At that early period in the settlement of California, a few Chinamen\ +had found their way to the Pacific coast; but the full tide of\ +immigration did not set in till a considerable time later, and,\ +therefore, the miners regarded one as a curiosity.\ +\ +"Who have you got there, O'Reilly?" inquired one of his\ +mining-comrades.\ +\ +"A yeller haythen!" answered O'Eeilly. "Look at the craythur! Ain't\ +he a beauty jist wid his long pigtail hangin' down his back like a\ +monkey's tail?"\ +\ +"Where did you find him?"\ +\ +"He was huntin' for gold, the haythen, jist for all the world as if\ +he was as white as you or I."\ +\ +Mr. Patrick O'Reilly appeared to hold the opinion that gold-hunting\ +should be confined to the Caucasian race. He looked upon a Chinaman\ +as rather a superior order of monkey, suitable for exhibition in a\ +cage, but not to be regarded as possessing the ordinary rights of an\ +adopted American resident. If he could have looked forward\ +twenty-five years, and foreseen the extent to which these barbarians\ +would throng the avenues of employment, he would, no doubt, have\ +been equally amazed and disgusted. Indeed, the capture of Ki Sing\ +was made through his influence, as Taylor, a man from Ohio, was\ +disposed to let him alone.\ +\ +Soon a crowd gathered around the terrified Chinaman and his captors,\ +and he was plied with questions, some of a jocular character, by the\ +miners, who were glad of anything that relieved the monotony of\ +their ordinary life.\ +\ +"What's your name?" asked one.\ +\ +The Chinaman gazed at the questioner vacantly.\ +\ +"What's your name, you haythen?" repeated O'Reilly, emphasizing the\ +inquiry by a powerful shake.\ +\ +"My name Ki Sing," answered the Mongolian nervously.\ +\ +"Where did you come from, old pigtail?"\ +\ +"My name Ki Sing, not Pigtail," said the Chinaman, not understanding\ +the meaning of the epithet.\ +\ +This answer appeared to be regarded by the crowd as either witty or\ +absurd, for it elicited a roar of laughter.\ +\ +"Never mind what your name is, old stick in the mud! We'll call you\ +whatever we please. Where do you come from?"\ +\ +"Me come from 'Flisco."\ +\ +It is well known that a Chinaman cannot pronounce the letter r,\ +which in his mouth softens to l, in some cases producing a ludicrous\ +effect.\ +\ +"What have you come here for, Cy King, or whatever your name is."\ +\ +"My name Ki Sing."\ +\ +"Well, it's a haythen name; anyhow," remarked Mr. Patrick O'Eeilly.\ +"Before I'd have such a name, I'd go widout one intirely. Did you\ +hear the gintleman ask you what you came here for?"\ +\ +"You bling me," answered Ki Sing shrewdly.\ +\ +There was another laugh.\ +\ +"That Chinee ain't no fool!" said Dick Roberts.\ +\ +"What made you leave China?" he asked.\ +\ +"Me come to Amelica fol gold."\ +\ +"Hi, ho! That's it, is it? What are you going to do with your gold\ +when you find it?"\ +\ +"Cally it back to China."\ +\ +"And when you've callied it back, what'll you do then?"\ +\ +"Me mally wife, have good time and plenty money to buy lice."\ +\ +Of course, Ki Sing's meaning was plain, but there was a roar of\ +laughter, to which he listened with mild-eyed wonder, evidently\ +thinking that the miners who so looked down on him were themselves a\ +set of outside barbarians, to whom the superior civilization of\ +China was utterly unknown. It is fortunate that his presumption was\ +not suspected by those around him. No one would have resented it\ +more than Mr. Patrick O'Reilly, whose rank as regards enlightenment\ +and education certainly was not very high.\ +\ +"I say, John," said Dick Roberts, "are you fond of rat pie?"\ +\ +"Lat pie velly good," returned Ki Sing, with a look of appreciation.\ +"Melican man like him?"\ +\ +"Hear the haythen!" said O'Reilly, with an expression of deep\ +disgust. "He thinks we ate rats and mice, like him. No, old pigtail,\ +we ain't cats. We are good Christians."\ +\ +"Chlistian! Ma don't know Ghlistian," said the Chinaman.\ +\ +"Then look at O'Reilly," said Dick Roberts, mischievously. "He's a\ +good solid Christian."\ +\ +Ki Sing turned his almond eyes upon O'Reilly, who, with his freckled\ +face, wide mouth, broad nose, and stubby beard, was by no means a\ +prepossessing-looking man, and said interrogatively: "He Chlistian?"\ +\ +"Yes, John. Wouldn't you like to be one?"\ +\ +Ki Sing shook his head decidedly.\ +\ +"Me no want to be Chlistian," he answered. "Me velly well now. Me\ +want to be good Chinaman."\ +\ +"There's a compliment for you, O'Reilly," said one of the miners.\ +"John prefers to be a Chinaman to being like you."\ +\ +"He's a barbarious haythen, anyhow," said O'Reilly, surveying his\ +prisoner with unfriendly eyes. "What did he come over to America\ +for, anyhow?"\ +\ +"He probably came over for the same reason that brought you,\ +O'Reilly," said a young man, who spoke for the first time, though he\ +had been from the outset a disgusted witness of what had taken\ +place.\ +\ +"And what's that?" demanded O'Reilly angrily.\ +\ +"To make a living," answered Richard Dewey quietly.\ +\ +As this is the first time this young man has been introduced, we\ +will briefly describe him. He was of medium size, well knit and\ +vigorous, with a broad forehead, blue eyes, and an intelligent and\ +winning countenance. He might have been suspected of too great\ +amiability and gentleness, but for a firm expression about the\ +mouth, and an indefinable air of manliness, which indicated that it\ +would not do to go too far with him. There was a point, as all his\ +friends knew, where his forbearance gave way and he sternly asserted\ +his rights. He was not so popular in camp as some, because he\ +declined to drink or gamble, and, despite the rough circumstances in\ +which he found himself placed, was resolved to preserve his\ +self-respect.\ +\ +O'Reilly did not fancy his interference, and demanded, in a surly\ +tone:\ +\ +"Do you mean to compare me wid this haythen?"\ +\ +"You are alike in one respect," said Richard Dewey quietly. "Neither\ +of you were born in this country, but each of you came here to\ +improve your fortunes."\ +\ +"And hadn't I the right, I'd like to know?" blustered O'Reilly.\ +\ +"To be sure you had. This country is free to all who wish to make a\ +home here."\ +\ +"Then what are you talkin' about, anyway?"\ +\ +"You ought to be able to understand without asking. Ki Sing has come\ +here, and has the same right that you have."\ +\ +"Do you mane to put me on a livel wid him?"\ +\ +"In that one respect, I do."\ +\ +"I want you to understand that Patrick O'Reilly won't take no\ +insults from you, nor any other man!"\ +\ +"Hush, O'Reilly!" said Terence O'Gorman, another Irish miner. "Dewey\ +is perfectly right. I came over from Ireland like you, but he hasn't\ +said anything against either of us."\ +\ +"That is where you are right, O'Gorman," said Richard Dewey\ +cordially. "You are a man of sense, and can understand me. My own\ +father emigrated from England, and I am not likely to say anything\ +against the class to which he belonged. Now, boys, you have had\ +enough sport out of the poor Chinaman. I advise you to let him go."\ +\ +Ki Sing grasped at this suggestion.\ +\ +"Melican man speak velly good," he said.\ +\ +"Of course, you think so," sneered O'Reilly. "I say, boys, let's cut\ +off his pigtail," touching the poor Chinaman's queue.\ +\ +Ki Sing uttered a cry of dismay as O'Reilly's suggestion was greeted\ +with favorable shouts by the thoughtless crowd.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XXVIII.\ +\ +THE DUEL OF THE MINERS.\ +\ +\ +O'Reilly's suggestion chimed in with the rough humor of the crowd.\ +They were not bad-hearted men, but, though rough in their manners,\ +not much worse on the average than an equal number of men in the\ +Eastern States. They only thought of the fun to be obtained from the\ +proceeding, and supposed they would be doing the Chinaman no real\ +harm.\ +\ +"Has anybody got a pair of scissors?" asked O'Reilly, taking the\ +Chinaman by the queue.\ +\ +"I've got one in my tent," answered one of the miners.\ +\ +"Go and get it, then."\ +\ +Ki Sing again uttered a cry of dismay, but it did not seem likely\ +that his valued appendage could be saved. Public sentiment was with\ +his persecutor.\ +\ +He had one friend, however, among the rough men who surrounded him,\ +the same who had already taken his part.\ +\ +Richard Dewey's eyes glittered sternly as he saw O'Reilly's\ +intention, and he quietly advanced till he was within an arm's\ +length of Ki Sing.\ +\ +"What do you mean to do, O'Reilly?" he demanded sternly.\ +\ +"None of your business!" retorted O'Reilly insolently.\ +\ +"It is going to be my business. What do you mean to do?"\ +\ +"Gut off this haythen's pigtail, and I'd just like to know who's\ +going to prevent me."\ +\ +At this moment the miner who had gone for a pair of scissors\ +returned.\ +\ +"Give me them scissors!" said O'Reilly sharply.\ +\ +Richard Dewey reached out his hand and intercepted them. He took\ +them in place of O'Reilly.\ +\ +"Give me them scissors, Dewey, or it'll be the worse for you!"\ +exclaimed the tyrant furiously.\ +\ +Dewey regarded him with a look of unmistakable contempt.\ +\ +There was a murmur among the miners, who were eager for the\ +amusement which the Chinaman's terror and ineffectual struggles\ +would afford them.\ +\ +"Give him the scissors, Dewey!" said half a dozen.\ +\ +"Boys," said Dewey, making no motion to obey them, "do you know what\ +you are about to do? Why should you interfere with this poor,\ +unoffending Chinaman? Has he wronged any one of you?"\ +\ +"No, but that ain't the point," said a Kentuckian. "We only want to\ +play a joke on him. It won't do him no harm to cut his hair."\ +\ +"Of course not," chimed in several of the miners.\ +\ +"Do you hear that, Dick Dewey?" demanded O'Reilly impatiently. "Do\ +you hear what the boys say? Give me them scissors."\ +\ +"Boys, you don't understand the effects of what you would do," said\ +Dewey, taking no notice of O'Reilly, much to that worthy's\ +indignation. "If Ki Sing has his queue cut off, he can never go back\ +to China."\ +\ +"Is that the law, squire?" asked a loose-jointed Yankee.\ +\ +"Yes, it is. You may rely on my word. Ki Sing, if you cut off your\ +queue, can you go back to China?"\ +\ +"No go back-stay in Melica allee time."\ +\ +"You see he confirms my statement."\ +\ +"That's a queer law, anyway," said the Kentuckian.\ +\ +"I admit that, but such as it is, we can't alter it. Now, Ki Sing\ +has probably a father and mother, perhaps a wife and children, in\ +China. He wants to go back to them some time. Shall we prevent this,\ +and doom him to perpetual exile, just to secure a little sport?\ +Come, boys, you've all of you got dear ones at home, that you hope\ +some day to see again. I appeal to you whether this is manly or\ +kind."\ +\ +This was a sort of argument that had a strong effect. It was true\ +that each one of these men had relatives for whom they were working,\ +the thought of whom enabled them to bear hard work and privations\ +thousands of miles away from home, and Richard Dewey's appeal\ +touched their hearts.\ +\ +"That's so! Dewey is right. Let him go, O'Reilly!" said the crowd.\ +\ +The one man who was not touched by the appeal was O'Reilly himself.\ +Not that he was altogether a bad man, but his spirit of opposition\ +was kindled, and he could not bear to yield to Dewey, whose contempt\ +he understood and resented.\ +\ +His reply was, "I'm goin' to cut off the haythen's pigtail, whether\ +or no. Give me them scissors, I tell you," and he gave a vicious\ +twitch to the Chinaman's queue, which made Ki Sing utter a sharp cry\ +of pain.\ +\ +Richard Dewey's forbearance was at an end. His eyes blazed with\ +fury, and, clenching his fist, he dashed it full in the face of the\ +offending O'Reilly, who not only released his hold on Ki Sing, but\ +measured his length on the ground.\ +\ +O'Reilly was no coward, and he possessed the national love of a\ +shindy. He sprang to his feet in a rage, and shouted:\ +\ +"I'll murder ye for that, Dick Dewey! See if I don't!"\ +\ +"A fight! a fight!" shouted the miners, willing to be amused in that\ +way, since they had voluntarily given up the fun expected from\ +cutting off the Chipaman's queue.\ +\ +Richard Dewey looked rather disgusted.\ +\ +"I don't want to fight, boys," he said. "It isn't to my taste."\ +\ +"You've got to, you coward!" said O'Reilly, beginning to bluster.\ +\ +"I don't think you'll find me a coward," said Dewey quietly, as he\ +stood with his arms folded, looking at O'Reilly.\ +\ +"You'll have to give O'Reilly satisfaction," said one of the miners.\ +"You've knocked him down, and he's got a right to it."\ +\ +"Will it be any satisfaction to him to get knocked over again?" asked\ +Dewey, shrugging his shoulders.\ +\ +"You can't do it! I'll bate you till you can't stand!" exclaimed the\ +angry Irishman. "I'll tache you to insult a gintleman."\ +\ +"Form a ring, boys!" exclaimed the Kentuck-ian. "We'll see there's\ +fair play."\ +\ +"One thing first," said Dewey, holding up his hand. "If I come off\ +best in this encounter, you'll all agree to let this Chinaman go\ +free? Is that agreed?"\ +\ +"Yes, yes, it is agreed!"\ +\ +Ki Sing stood trembling with fear while these preliminaries were\ +being settled. He would have escaped from the crowd, but his first\ +movement was checked.\ +\ +"No, Cy King, we can't let you go jest yet," said Taylor. "We're\ +goin' to see this thing through first."\ +\ +O'Reilly was not in the least daunted by the contest in which he was\ +to engage. Indeed, he felt a good deal of satisfaction at the\ +prospect of being engaged in a scrimmage. Of course, he expected to\ +come off a victor. He was a considerably larger man than Richard\ +Dewey, with arms like flails and flats like sledge-hammers, and he\ +had no sort of doubt that he could settle his smaller antagonist in\ +less than five minutes.\ +\ +But there was one thing of which he was not aware. Though slender,\ +Dewey had trained and hardened his muscles by exercise in a\ +gymnasium, and, moreover, he had taken a course of lessons in the\ +manly art of self-defense. He had done this, not because he expected\ +to be called upon to defend himself at any time, but because he\ +thought it conducive to keeping up his health and strength. He\ +awaited O'Reilly's onset with watchful calmness.\ +\ +O'Reilly advanced with a whoop, flinging about his powerful arms\ +somewhat like a windmill, and prepared to upset his antagonist at\ +the first onset.\ +\ +What was his surprise to find his own blows neatly parried, and to\ +meet a tremendous blow from his opponent which set his nose to\ +bleeding.\ +\ +Astonished, but not panic-stricken, he pluckily advanced to a second\ +round, and tried to grasp Dewey round the waist. But instead of\ +doing this, he received another knock-down blow, which stretched him\ +on the ground.\ +\ +He was up again, and renewed the attack, but with even less chance\ +of victory than before, for the blood was streaming down his face,\ +and he could not see distinctly where to hit. Dewey contented\ +himself with keeping on guard and parrying the blows of his\ +demoralized adversary.\ +\ +"It's no use, O'Reilly!" exclaimed two or three. "Dewey's the better\ +man."\ +\ +"Let me get at him! I'll show him what I can do," said O'Reilly\ +doggedly.\ +\ +"As long as you like, O'Reilly," said Richard Dewey coolly; "but you\ +may as well give it up."\ +\ +"Troth and I won't. I'm stronger than you are any day."\ +\ +"Perhaps you are; but I understand fighting, and you don't."\ +\ +"An O'Reilly not know how to fight!" exclaimed the Irishman hotly.\ +"I could fight when I was six years old."\ +\ +"Perhaps so; but you can't box."\ +\ +One or two more attacks, and O'Reilly was dragged away by two of his\ +friends, and Dewey remained master of the field.\ +\ +The miners came up and shook hands with him cordially. They regarded\ +him with new respect, now that it was found he had overpowered the\ +powerful O'Reilly.\ +\ +Among those who congratulated him was his Mongolian friend, Ki Sing.\ +\ +"Melican man good fightee-knock over Ilishman. Hullah!"\ +\ +"Come with me, Ki Sing," said Dewey. '"I will take care of you till\ +to-morrow, and then you had better go."\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XXIX.\ +\ +CHINESE CHEAP LABOR.\ +\ +\ +Though Dewey had received from the miners a promise that they would\ +not interfere with Ki Sing in case he gained a victory over\ +O'Reilly, he was not willing to trust entirely to it. He feared that\ +some one would take it into his head to play a trick on the\ +unoffending Chinaman, and that the others unthinkingly would join\ +in. Accordingly, he thought it best to keep the Mongolian under his\ +personal charge as long as he remained in camp.\ +\ +Ki Sing followed him to his tent as a child follows a guardian.\ +\ +"Are you hungry, Ki Sing?" asked Dewey.\ +\ +"Plenty hungly."\ +\ +"Then I will first satisfy your appetite," and Dewey brought forth\ +some of his stock of provisions, to which Ki Sing did ample justice,\ +though neither rat pie nor rice was included.\ +\ +When the lunch, in which Richard Dewey joined, was over, he said:\ +"If you will help me for the rest of the day, I will pay you\ +whatever I consider your services to be worth."\ +\ +"All lightee!" responded Ki Sing, with alacrity.\ +\ +Whatever objections may be made to the Chinaman, he cannot be\ +charged with laziness. As a class they are willing to labor\ +faithfully, even where the compensation is small. Labor in China,\ +which is densely peopled, is a matter of general and imperative\ +necessity, and has been so for centuries, and habit has probably had\ +a good deal to do with the national spirit of industry.\ +\ +Ki Sing, under Richard Dewey's directions, worked hard, and richly\ +earned the two dollars which his employer gave him at the end of the\ +day.\ +\ +Of course Dewey's action did not escape the attention of his fellow\ +miners. It cannot be said that they regarded it with favor. The one\ +most offended was naturally O'Reilly, who, despite the pounding he\ +had received, was about the camp as usual.\ +\ +"Boys," he said, "are you goin' to have that haythen workin'\ +alongside you?"\ +\ +"It won't do us any harm, will it?" asked Dick Roberts. "If Dewey\ +chooses to hire him, what is it to us?"\ +\ +"I ain't goin' to demane myself by workin' wid a yeller haythen."\ +\ +"Nobody has asked you to do it. If anybody is demeaning himself it\ +is Dick Dewey, and he has a right to if he wants to."\ +\ +"If he wants to hire anybody, let him hire a dacent Christian."\ +\ +"Like you, O'Reilly?"\ +\ +"I don't want to work for anybody. I work for myself. This Chinaman\ +has come here to take the bread out of our mouths, bad cess to him."\ +\ +"I don't see that. He is workin' Dick Dewey's claim. I don't see how\ +that interferes with us."\ +\ +Of course, this was the reasonable view of the matter; but there\ +were some who sided with the Irishman, among others the Kentuckian,\ +and he volunteered to go as a committee of one to Dewey, and\ +represent to him the sentiments of the camp.\ +\ +Accordingly he walked over to where Dewey and his apprentice were\ +working.\ +\ +"Look here, Dewey," he began, "me and some of the rest of the boys\ +have takin' over this yere matter of your givin' work to this\ +Chinaman, and we don't like it."\ +\ +"Why not?" asked Dewey coolly.\ +\ +"We don't feel no call to associate with sich as he."\ +\ +"You needn't; I don't ask you to," said Dewey quietly. "I am the\ +only one who associates with him."\ +\ +"But we don't want him in camp."\ +\ +"He won't trouble any of you. I will take charge of him."\ +\ +"Look here, Dewey, you've got to respect public sentiment, and\ +public sentiment is agin' this thing."\ +\ +"Whose public sentiment--O'Reilly's?"\ +\ +"Well, O'Reilly don't like it, for one."\ +\ +"I thought so."\ +\ +"Nor I for another."\ +\ +"It strikes me, Hodgson, that I've got some rights as well as\ +O'Reilly. Suppose I should say I didn't choose to work in the same\ +camp with an Irishman?"\ +\ +"That's different."\ +\ +"Why is it different?"\ +\ +"Well, you see, an Irishman isn't a yeller heathen."\ +\ +Dewey laughed.\ +\ +"He may be a heathen, though not a yellow one," he said.\ +\ +"Well, Dewey, what answer shall I take back to the boys?"\ +\ +"You can say that I never intended to employ the Chinaman for any\ +length of time; but I shall not send him off till I get ready."\ +\ +"I'm afraid the boys won't like it, Dewey."\ +\ +"Probably O'Reilly won't. As for you, you are too intelligent a man\ +to be influenced by such a man as he."\ +\ +All men are sensible to flattery, and Hodgson was won over by this\ +politic speech.\ +\ +"I won't say you're altogether wrong, Dewey," he said; "but I\ +wouldn't keep him too long."\ +\ +"I don't mean to."\ +\ +Hodgson returning reported that Dewey would soon dismiss the\ +Chinaman, and omitted the independent tone which the latter had\ +assumed. The message was considered conciliatory, and pronounced\ +satisfactory; but O'Reilly was not appeased. He still murmured, but\ +his words produced little effect. Seeing this, he devised a private\ +scheme of annoyance.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XXX.\ +\ +A MIDNIGHT VISIT.\ +\ +\ +This conversation set Dewey to thinking. Though he was independent,\ +he was not foolishly so, and he was not willing, out of a spirit of\ +opposition, to expose his new acquaintance to annoyance, perhaps to\ +injury. He did not care to retain Ki Sing in his employment for any\ +length of time, and made up his mind to dismiss him early the next\ +mornng, say, at four o'clock, before the miners had thrown off the\ +chains of sleep.\ +\ +He did not anticipate any harm to his Mongolian friend during the\ +night; but this was because he did not fully understand the feeling\ +of outraged dignity which rankled in the soul of O'Reilly.\ +\ +Patrick O'Reilly was like his countrymen in being always ready for a\ +fight; but he was unlike them in harboring a sullen love of revenge.\ +In this respect he was more like an Indian.\ +\ +He felt that Richard Dewey had got the better of him in the brief\ +contest, and the fact that he had been worsted in the presence of\ +his fellow miners humiliated him. If he could only carry his point,\ +and deprive the Chinaman of his queue after all, the disgrace would\ +be redeemed, and O'Reilly would be himself again.\ +\ +"And why shouldn't I?" he said to himself. "The haythen will sleep\ +in Dewey's tent. Why can't I creep up, unbeknownst, in the middle of\ +the night, and cut off his pigtail, while he is aslape? Faith, I'd\ +like to see how he and his friend would look in the morning. I don't\ +belave a word of his not bein' allowed to go back to Chiny widout\ +it. That is an invintion of Dewey."\ +\ +The more O'Reilly dwelt upon this idea the more it pleased him. Once\ +the pigtail was cut off, the mischief could not be repaired, and he\ +would have a most suitable and satisfactory revenge.\ +\ +Of course, it would not do to make the attempt till Ki Sing and his\ +protector were both fast asleep. "All men are children when they are\ +asleep," says an old proverb. That is, all men are as helpless as\ +children when their senses are locked in slumber. It would be safer,\ +therefore, to carry out his plan if he could manage to do so without\ +awaking the two men.\ +\ +O'Reilly determined not to take any one into his confidence. This\ +was prudent, for it was sure to prevent his plan from becoming\ +known. There was, however, one inconvenience about this, as it would\ +prevent him from borrowing the scissors upon which he had relied to\ +cut off the queue. But he had a sharp knife, which he thought would\ +answer the purpose equally well.\ +\ +It was rather hard for O'Reilly to keep awake till midnight-the\ +earliest hour which he thought prudent-but the motive which impelled\ +him was sufficiently strong to induce even this sacrifice.\ +\ +So, as the shadows darkened, and the night came on, Patrick O'Reilly\ +forced himself to lie awake, while he waited eagerly for the hour of\ +midnight. Meanwhile, Richard Dewey and Ki Sing lay down at nine\ +o'clock and sought refreshment in sleep. Both were fatigued, but it\ +was the Chinaman who first lost consciousness. Dewey scanned with\ +curiosity the bland face of his guest, looking childlike and\ +peaceful, as he lay by his side.\ +\ +"I wonder if he is dreaming of his distant home in China," thought\ +Dewey. "The cares of life do not seem to sit heavy upon him. Though\ +he has been in danger to-day, and may be so still, he yields himself\ +up trustfully to the repose which he needs. Is it true, I wonder,\ +that cares increase with mental culture? Doubtless, it is true. If I\ +were in China, threatened with a loss which would prevent my\ +returning to my native country, I am sure it would keep me awake.\ +But there can be nothing to fear now."\ +\ +Richard raised himself on his elbow, and looked about him. The tents\ +of the miners were grouped together, within a comparatively small\ +radius, and on all sides could be heard-it was now past ten-the deep\ +breathing of men exhausted by the day's toils. This would not\ +ordinarily have been the case at so early an hour, for when there\ +was whisky in the camp, there was often late carousing. It chanced,\ +however, at this time that the stock of liquor was exhausted, and,\ +until a new supply could be obtained from San Francisco, necessity\ +enforced the rule of total abstinence. It would have been well if,\ +for months to come, there could have been the same good reason for\ +abstinence, but, as a matter of fact, the very next day some casks\ +were brought into camp, much to the delighted and satisfaction of\ +the anti-temperance party.\ +\ +Finally Dewey fell asleep, but his sleep was a troubled one. He had\ +unthinkingly reclined upon his back, and this generally brought bad\ +dreams. He woke with a start from a dream, in which it seemed to him\ +that the miners were about to hang Ki Sing from the branch of one of\ +the tall trees near-by, when he detected a stealthy step close at\ +hand.\ +\ +Instantly he was on the alert. Turning his head, he caught sight of\ +a human figure nearing the tent. A second glance showed him that it\ +was O'Reilly, with a knife in his hand.\ +\ +"Good heavens!" thought Dewey, "does he mean to kill the poor\ +Chinaman?"\ +\ +A muttered sentence from O'Reilly reassured him on this point.\ +\ +"Now, you yeller haythen, I'll cut off your pigtail in spite of that\ +impertinent friend of yours--Dick Dewey. I'll show you that an\ +O'Reilly isn't to be interfered wid."\ +\ +"So he wants the poor fellow's queue, does he?" said Dewey to\ +himself. "You're not quite smart enough, Mr. O'Reilly."\ +\ +There was no time to lose.\ +\ +O'Reilly was already on his knees, with the poor Chinaman's\ +treasured queue in his hand, when he felt himself seized in a\ +powerful grip.\ +\ +"What are you about, O'Reilly?" demanded Richard Dewey, in a deep,\ +stern voice.\ +\ +O'Reilly uttered a cry, rather of surprise than alarm.\ +\ +"What are you about?" repeated Richard Dewey, in a tone of\ +authority.\ +\ +"I'm goin' to cut off the haythen's pigtail," answered the Irishman\ +doggedly.\ +\ +"What for?"\ +\ +"I've said I'd do it, and I'll do it."\ +\ +"Well, Mr. O'Reilly, I've said you sha'n't do it, and I mean to keep\ +my word."\ +\ +O'Reilly tried to carry out his intent, but suddenly found himself\ +flung backward in a position very favorable for studying the\ +position of the stars.\ +\ +"Are you not ashamed to creep up to my tent in the middle of the\ +night on such an errand as that, Patrick O'Reilly?" demanded Dewey.\ +\ +"No, I'm not. Let me up, Dick Dewey, or it'll be the worse for you,"\ +said the intruder wrathfully.\ +\ +"Give me your knife, then."\ +\ +"I won't. It's my own."\ +\ +"The errand on which you come is my warrant for demanding it."\ +\ +"I won't give you the knife, but I'll go back," said O'Reilly.\ +\ +"That won't do."\ +\ +"Don't you go too far, Dick Dewey. I'm your aiqual."\ +\ +"No man is my equal who creeps to my tent at the dead of night. Do\ +you know what the camp will think, O'Eeilly?"\ +\ +"And what will they think?"\ +\ +"That you came to rob me."\ +\ +"Then they'll think a lie!" said O'Reilly, startled, for he knew\ +that on such a charge he would be liable to be suspended to the\ +nearest tree.\ +\ +"If they chose to think so, it would be bad for you."\ +\ +"You know it isn't so Dick Dewey," said O'Reilly.\ +\ +"I consider your intention quite as bad. You wanted to prevent this\ +poor Chinaman from ever returning to his native land, though he had\ +never injured you in any way. You can't deny it."\ +\ +"I don't belave a word of all that rigmarole, Dick Dewey."\ +\ +"It makes little difference whether you believe it or not. You have\ +shown a disposition to injure and annoy Ki Sing, but I have foiled\ +you. And now," here Dewey's tone became deep and stern, "give me that\ +knife directly, and go back to your tent, or I'll rouse the camp,\ +and they may form their own conclusions as to what brought you\ +here."\ +\ +O'Reilly felt that Dewey was in earnest, and that he must yield. He\ +did so with a bad grace enough and slunk back to his tent, which he\ +did not leave till morning.\ +\ +Early in the morning, Richard Dewey awakened Ki Sing.\ +\ +"You had better not stay here, Ki Sing," he said. "There are those\ +who would do you mischief. Go into the mountains, and you may find\ +gold. There you will be safe."\ +\ +"Melican man velly good-me go," said the Chinaman submissively.\ +\ +"Good luck to you, Ki Sing!"\ +\ +"Good luckee, Melican man!"\ +\ +So the two parted, and when morning came to the camp, nothing was to\ +be seen of the Chinaman.\ +\ +Dewey returned O'Reilly's knife, the latter receiving it in sullen\ +silence.\ +\ +It was not long afterward that Richard Dewey himself left Murphy's\ +in search of a richer claim.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XXXI.\ +\ +ON THE MOUNTAIN PATH.\ +\ +\ +My readers will not have forgotten Bill Mosely and his companion Tom\ +Hadley, who played the mean trick upon Bradley and our hero of\ +stealing their horses. I should be glad to state that they were\ +overtaken and punished within twenty-four hours, but it would not be\ +correct. They had a great advantage over their pursuers, who had\ +only their own feet to help them on, and, at the end of the first\ +day, were at least ten miles farther on than Ben and Bradley.\ +\ +As the two last, wearied and well-nigh exhausted, sat down to rest,\ +Bradley glanced about him long and carefully in all directions.\ +\ +"I can't see anything of them skunks, Ben," he said.\ +\ +"I suppose not, Jake. They must be a good deal farther on."\ +\ +"Yes, I reckon so. They've got the horses to help them, while we've\ +got to foot it. It was an awful mean trick they played on us."\ +\ +"That's so, Jake."\ +\ +"All I ask is to come up with 'em some of these days."\ +\ +"What would you do?"\ +\ +"I wouldn't take their lives, for I ain't no murderer, but I'd tie\ +'em hand and foot, and give 'em a taste of a horsewhip, or a switch,\ +till they'd think they was schoolboys again."\ +\ +"You might not be able to do it. They would be two to one."\ +\ +"Not quite, Ben. I'd look for some help from you."\ +\ +"I would give you all the help I could," said Ben.\ +\ +"I know you mean it, and that you wouldn't get scared, and desert\ +me, as a cousin of mine did once when I was set upon by robbers."\ +\ +"Was that in California?"\ +\ +"No; in Kentucky. I had a tough job, but I managed to disable one of\ +the rascals, and the other ran away."\ +\ +"What did your cousin have to say?"\ +\ +"He told me, when I caught up with him, that he was goin' in search\ +of help, but I told him that was too thin. I told him I wouldn't\ +keep his company any longer, and that he had better go his way and I\ +would go mine. He tried to explain things, but there are some things\ +that ain't so easily explained, that I wouldn't hear him. I stick to\ +my friends, and I expect them to stand by me."\ +\ +"That's fair, Jake."\ +\ +"That's the way I look at it. I wonder where them rascals are?"\ +\ +"You mean Mosely and his friend?"\ +\ +"Yes. What galls me, Ben, is that they're likely laughin' in their\ +shoes at the way they've tricked us, and there's no help for it."\ +\ +"Not just now, Jake, but we may overtake them yet. Till we do, we\ +may as well take things as easy as we can."\ +\ +"You're right, Ben. You'mind me of an old man that used to live in\ +the place where I was raised. He never borrered any trouble, but\ +when things was contrary, he waited for 'em to take a turn. When he\ +saw a neighbor frettin', he used to say, 'Fret not thy gizzard, for\ +it won't do no good.'"\ +\ +Ben laughed.\ +\ +"That was good advice," he said.\ +\ +"I don't know where he got them words from. Maybe they're in the\ +Bible."\ +\ +"I guess not," said Ben, smiling. "They don't sound like it."\ +\ +"Perhaps you're right," said Bradley, not fully convinced, however.\ +"Seems to me I've heard old Parson Brown get off something to that\ +effect."\ +\ +"Perhaps it was this-'Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof.'"\ +\ +"Perhaps it was. Is that from the Bible?"\ +\ +"Yes."\ +\ +"It might have been made a little stronger," said Bradley\ +thoughtfully. "The evil of some days is more than sufficient,\ +accordin' to my notion."\ +\ +The two explorers camped out as usual, and the fatigue of their\ +day's tramp insured them a deep, refreshing sleep. The next day they\ +resumed their journey, and for several days to come no incident\ +worthy of mention varied the monotony of their march. Toward the\ +close of the fourth day they saw from a distance a figure\ +approaching them, who seemed desirous of attracting their attention.\ +Ben was the first to see him.\ +\ +"Jake," said he, "look yonder!"\ +\ +"It's a Chinee!" said Bradley, in surprise.\ +\ +"How did the critter come here, in the name of wonder?"\ +\ +"I suppose he is looking for gold as well as we."\ +\ +"The heathen seems to be signalin' us. He's wavin' his arm."\ +\ +This was the case. The Chinaman, for some reason, seemed to wish to\ +attract the attention of the newcomers. He stopped short, and waited\ +for Ben and Bradley to come up.\ +\ +"Who are you, my yeller friend?" asked Bradley, when he was near\ +enough to be heard.\ +\ +"My name Ki Sing."\ +\ +"Glad to hear it. I can't say I ever heard of your family, but I\ +reckon from the name, it's a musical one."\ +\ +Ki Sing probably did not understand the tenor of Bradley's remark.\ +\ +"Is there any hotel round here, Mr. Sing?" asked Ben jocosely,\ +"where two weary travelers can put up for the night?"\ +\ +"Nohotellee!"\ +\ +"Then where do you sleep?"\ +\ +"Me sleep on glound."\ +\ +"Your bed is a pretty large one, then," said Bradley. "The great\ +objection to it is, that it is rather hard."\ +\ +Ki Sing's mind was evidently occupied by some engrossing thought,\ +which prevented his paying much attention to Bradley's jocose\ +observations.\ +\ +"Melican man wantee you," he said, in an excited manner.\ +\ +"What's that?" asked Bradley. "Melican man want me?"\ +\ +Ki Sing nodded.\ +\ +"Where is he?"\ +\ +Ki Sing turned, and pointed to a rude hut some half a mile away in a\ +little mountain nook.\ +\ +"Melican man thele," he said.\ +\ +"Come along, Ben," said Bradley. "Let us see what this means. It may\ +be some countryman of ours who is in need of help."\ +\ +The Chinaman trotted along in advance, and our two friends followed\ +him.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XXXII.\ +\ +THE MOUNTAIN CABIN.\ +\ +\ +At length they reached the entrance to the cabin. It was a rough\ +structure, built of logs, containing but one apartment. On a blanket\ +in one corner of the hut lay a young man, looking pale and\ +emaciated. His face was turned to the wall, so that, though he heard\ +steps, he did not see who crossed the threshold.\ +\ +"Is that you, Ki Sing?" he asked, in a low voice. "But why need I\ +ask? There is not likely to be any one else in this lonely spot."\ +\ +"That's where you're mistaken, my friend," said Bradley. "I met that\ +Chinaman of yours half a mile away, and he brought me here. You're\ +sick, I reckon?"\ +\ +The invalid started in surprise and evident joy when he heard\ +Bradley's voice.\ +\ +"Thank Heaven!" he said, "for the sound of a countryman's voice,"\ +and he turned to look at his visitor.\ +\ +Now it was Bradley's turn to start and manifest surprise.\ +\ +"Why, it's Dick Dewey!" he exclaimed.\ +\ +"You know me?" said the sick man eagerly.\ +\ +"Of course I do. Didn't we work together at Murphy's, almost side by\ +side?"\ +\ +"Jake Bradley!" exclaimed Dewey, recognizing him at last.\ +\ +"The same old coon! Now, Dewey, what's the matter with you?"\ +\ +"Nothing serious, but enough to lay me up for a time. A week since I\ +slipped from a rock and sprained my ankle severely-so much so that I\ +can't use it safely. I've often heard that a sprain is worse than a\ +break, but I never realized it till now."\ +\ +"Has the Chinaman taken care of you?" inquired Bradley.\ +\ +"Yes; I don't know what I should have done without Ki Sing," said\ +Dewey, with a grateful glance at the Chinaman.\ +\ +"Was he with you when the accident hapened?"\ +\ +"No; I lay helpless on the hillside for two hours, when,\ +providentially, as I shall always consider it, my friend Ki Sing\ +came along."\ +\ +The Chinaman usually impassive face seemed to light up with pleasure\ +when Richard Dewey spoke of him as his friend.\ +\ +"I tell you what, Ki Sing," said Bradley, turning to the\ +representative of China, "I never thought much of your people\ +before, but I cheerfully admit that you're a brick."\ +\ +"A blick!" repeated the Mongolian, appearing more puzzled than\ +complimented.\ +\ +"Yes, a brick-a real good fellow, and no mistake! Give us your hand!\ +You're a gentleman!"\ +\ +Ki Sing readily yielded his hand to the grasp of the miner. He saw\ +that Bradley meant to be friendly, though he did not altogether\ +understand him.\ +\ +"Had you ever met Ki Sing, Dick?" asked Bradley.\ +\ +"Yes; on one occasion I had a chance to be of service to him, and he\ +had not forgotten it. He has taken the best care of me, and supplied\ +me with food, which I was unable to procure for myself. I think I\ +should have starved but for him."\ +\ +"Ki Sing, I want to shake hands with you again," said Bradley, who\ +seemed a good deal impressed by conduct which his prejudices would\ +not have allowed him to expect from a heathen.\ +\ +Ki Sing winced beneath the strong pressure of the miner's grasp, and\ +examined his long, slender fingers with some anxiety when he rescued\ +them from the cordial, but rather uncomfortable pressure.\ +\ +"Melican man shakee too much!" he protested.\ +\ +Bradley did not hear him, for he had again resumed conversation with\ +Dewey.\ +\ +"Is that your boy, Bradley?" asked the invalid, glaring at Ben, who\ +modestly kept in the background.\ +\ +"No, it's a young friend of mine that I came across in 'Frisco. His\ +name is Ben Stanton. I don't believe you can guess what brought us\ +up here among the mountains."\ +\ +"Probably you came, like me, in search of gold."\ +\ +"That's where you're wrong. Leastways, that wasn't the principal\ +object of our coming."\ +\ +"You're not traveling for pleasure, I should think," said Dewey,\ +smiling.\ +\ +"Not much. Since our hosses have been stole, there's mighty little\ +pleasure in clamberin' round on these hills. The fact is, we've been\ +lookin' for you."\ +\ +"Looking for me!" exclaimed Dewey, in great surprise.\ +\ +"Yes, and no mistake. Isn't it so, Ben?"\ +\ +Ben nodded assent.\ +\ +"But what possible motive can you have in looking for me?"\ +\ +"I say, Dewey," proceeded Bradley, "did you ever hear of a young\ +lady by the name of Florence Douglas?"\ +\ +The effect of the name was electric. Dewey sprang up in bed, and\ +inquired eagerly.\ +\ +"Yes, yes, but what of her? Can you tell me anything of her?"\ +\ +"I can tell you as much as this: she is in 'Frisco, and has sent out\ +Ben and me to hunt you up, and let you know where she is."\ +\ +"Is this true? How came she here? Is her guardian with her?" asked\ +Dewey rapidly.\ +\ +"One question at a time, Dick. The fact is, she's given her guardian\ +the slip, and came out to Californy in charge of my young friend,\ +Ben. I hope you won't be jealous of him."\ +\ +"If she trusts him, I will also," said Dewey. "Tell me the whole\ +story, my lad. If you have been her friend, you may depend on my\ +gratitude."\ +\ +Ben told the story clearly and intelligibly, replying also to such\ +questions as Richard Dewey was impelled to ask him, and his\ +straightforwardness produced a very favorable impression on his new\ +acquaintance.\ +\ +"I begin to see, that, young as you are, Florence didn't make a bad\ +selection when she chose you as her escort."\ +\ +"Now, Dewey," said Bradley, "I've got some advice to give you. Get\ +well as soon as you can, and go to 'Frisco yourself. I surmise Miss\ +Douglas won't need Ben any longer when you are with her."\ +\ +"You forget this confounded sprain," said Dewey, looking ruefully at\ +his ankle. "If I go you'll have to carry me."\ +\ +"Then get well as soon as you can. We'll stay with you till you're\ +ready. If there was only a claim round here that Ben and I could\ +work while we are waitin', it would make the time pass pleasanter."\ +\ +"There is," said Dewey. "A month since I made a very valuable\ +discovery, and had got out nearly a thousand dollars' worth of gold,\ +when I was taken down. You two are welcome to work it, for as soon\ +as I am in condition, I shall go back to San Francisco."\ +\ +"We'll give you a share of what we find, Dick."\ +\ +"No, you won't. The news you have brought me is worth the claim many\ +times over. I shall give Ki Sing half of what I have in the cabin\ +here as a recompense for his faithful service."\ +\ +Ki Sing looked well content, as he heard this promise, and his smile\ +became even more "childlike and bland" than usual, as he bustled\ +about to prepare the evening meal.\ +\ +"I'll tell you what, Ben," said Bradley, "we'll pay Ki Sing\ +something besides, and he shall be our cook and steward, and see\ +that we have three square meals a day."\ +\ +"I agree to that," said Ben.\ +\ +When Ki Sing was made to comprehend the proposal, he, too, agreed,\ +and the little household was organized. The next day Ben and Bradley\ +went to work at Dewey's claim, which they found unexpectedly rich,\ +while the Chinaman undertook the duties assigned him. Four weeks\ +elapsed before Richard Dewey was in a condition to leave the cabin\ +for San Francisco. Then he and Ben returned, Ki Sing accompanying\ +them as a servant, while Bradley remained behind to guard Dewey's\ +claim and work it during Ben's absence.\ +\ +THE END.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Young Explorer, by Horatio Alger\ +\ +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE YOUNG EXPLORER ***\ +\ +***** This file should be named 5623.txt or 5623.zip *****\ +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:\ + http://www.gutenberg.org/5/6/2/5623/\ +\ +Produced by Charles Aldarondo\ +\ +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions\ +will be renamed.\ +\ +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no\ +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation\ +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without\ +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or re-use it\ +under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this\ +eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org\ +\ +\ +Title: War and Peace\ +\ +Author: Leo Tolstoy\ +\ +Translators: Louise and Aylmer Maude\ +\ +Posting Date: January 10, 2009 [EBook #2600]\ +\ +Last Updated: March 15, 2013\ +\ +Language: English\ +\ +\ +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WAR AND PEACE ***\ +\ +An Anonymous Volunteer, and David Widger\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +WAR AND PEACE\ +\ +By Leo Tolstoy/Tolstoi\ +\ +CONTENTS\ +\ +BOOK ONE: 1805\ +\ +CHAPTER I\ +\ +CHAPTER II\ +\ +CHAPTER III\ +\ +CHAPTER IV\ +\ +CHAPTER V\ +\ +CHAPTER VI\ +\ +CHAPTER VII\ +\ +CHAPTER VIII\ +\ +CHAPTER IX\ +\ +CHAPTER X\ +\ +CHAPTER XI\ +\ +CHAPTER XII\ +\ +CHAPTER XIII\ +\ +CHAPTER XIV\ +\ +CHAPTER XV\ +\ +CHAPTER XVI\ +\ +CHAPTER XVII\ +\ +CHAPTER XVIII\ +\ +CHAPTER XIX\ +\ +CHAPTER XX\ +\ +CHAPTER XXI\ +\ +CHAPTER XXII\ +\ +CHAPTER XXIII\ +\ +CHAPTER XXIV\ +\ +CHAPTER XXV\ +\ +CHAPTER XXVI\ +\ +CHAPTER XXVII\ +\ +CHAPTER XXVIII\ +\ +BOOK TWO: 1805\ +\ +CHAPTER I\ +\ +CHAPTER II\ +\ +CHAPTER III\ +\ +CHAPTER IV\ +\ +CHAPTER V\ +\ +CHAPTER VI\ +\ +CHAPTER VII\ +\ +CHAPTER VIII\ +\ +CHAPTER IX\ +\ +CHAPTER X\ +\ +CHAPTER XI\ +\ +CHAPTER XII\ +\ +CHAPTER XIII\ +\ +CHAPTER XIV\ +\ +CHAPTER XV\ +\ +CHAPTER XVI\ +\ +CHAPTER XVII\ +\ +CHAPTER XVIII\ +\ +CHAPTER XIX\ +\ +CHAPTER XX\ +\ +CHAPTER XXI\ +\ +BOOK THREE: 1805\ +\ +CHAPTER I\ +\ +CHAPTER II\ +\ +CHAPTER III\ +\ +CHAPTER IV\ +\ +CHAPTER V\ +\ +CHAPTER VI\ +\ +CHAPTER VII\ +\ +CHAPTER VIII\ +\ +CHAPTER IX\ +\ +CHAPTER X\ +\ +CHAPTER XI\ +\ +CHAPTER XII\ +\ +CHAPTER XIII\ +\ +CHAPTER XIV\ +\ +CHAPTER XV\ +\ +CHAPTER XVI\ +\ +CHAPTER XVII\ +\ +CHAPTER XVIII\ +\ +CHAPTER XIX\ +\ +BOOK FOUR: 1806\ +\ +CHAPTER I\ +\ +CHAPTER II\ +\ +CHAPTER III\ +\ +CHAPTER IV\ +\ +CHAPTER V\ +\ +CHAPTER VI\ +\ +CHAPTER VII\ +\ +CHAPTER VIII\ +\ +CHAPTER IX\ +\ +CHAPTER X\ +\ +CHAPTER XI\ +\ +CHAPTER XII\ +\ +CHAPTER XIII\ +\ +CHAPTER XIV\ +\ +CHAPTER XV\ +\ +CHAPTER XVI\ +\ +BOOK FIVE: 1806 - 07\ +\ +CHAPTER I\ +\ +CHAPTER II\ +\ +CHAPTER III\ +\ +CHAPTER IV\ +\ +CHAPTER V\ +\ +CHAPTER VI\ +\ +CHAPTER VII\ +\ +CHAPTER VIII\ +\ +CHAPTER IX\ +\ +CHAPTER X\ +\ +CHAPTER XI\ +\ +CHAPTER XII\ +\ +CHAPTER XIII\ +\ +CHAPTER XIV\ +\ +CHAPTER XV\ +\ +CHAPTER XVI\ +\ +CHAPTER XVII\ +\ +CHAPTER XVIII\ +\ +CHAPTER XIX\ +\ +CHAPTER XX\ +\ +CHAPTER XXI\ +\ +CHAPTER XXII\ +\ +BOOK SIX: 1808 - 10\ +\ +CHAPTER I\ +\ +CHAPTER II\ +\ +CHAPTER III\ +\ +CHAPTER IV\ +\ +CHAPTER V\ +\ +CHAPTER VI\ +\ +CHAPTER VII\ +\ +CHAPTER VIII\ +\ +CHAPTER IX\ +\ +CHAPTER X\ +\ +CHAPTER XI\ +\ +CHAPTER XII\ +\ +CHAPTER XIII\ +\ +CHAPTER XIV\ +\ +CHAPTER XV\ +\ +CHAPTER XVI\ +\ +CHAPTER XVII\ +\ +CHAPTER XVIII\ +\ +CHAPTER XIX\ +\ +CHAPTER XX\ +\ +CHAPTER XXI\ +\ +CHAPTER XXII\ +\ +CHAPTER XXIII\ +\ +CHAPTER XXIV\ +\ +CHAPTER XXV\ +\ +CHAPTER XXVI\ +\ +BOOK SEVEN: 1810 - 11\ +\ +CHAPTER I\ +\ +CHAPTER II\ +\ +CHAPTER III\ +\ +CHAPTER IV\ +\ +CHAPTER V\ +\ +CHAPTER VI\ +\ +CHAPTER VII\ +\ +CHAPTER VIII\ +\ +CHAPTER IX\ +\ +CHAPTER X\ +\ +CHAPTER XI\ +\ +CHAPTER XII\ +\ +CHAPTER XIII\ +\ +BOOK EIGHT: 1811 - 12\ +\ +CHAPTER I\ +\ +CHAPTER II\ +\ +CHAPTER III\ +\ +CHAPTER IV\ +\ +CHAPTER V\ +\ +CHAPTER VI\ +\ +CHAPTER VII\ +\ +CHAPTER VIII\ +\ +CHAPTER IX\ +\ +CHAPTER X\ +\ +CHAPTER XI\ +\ +CHAPTER XII\ +\ +CHAPTER XIII\ +\ +CHAPTER XIV\ +\ +CHAPTER XV\ +\ +CHAPTER XVI\ +\ +CHAPTER XVII\ +\ +CHAPTER XVIII\ +\ +CHAPTER XIX\ +\ +CHAPTER XX\ +\ +CHAPTER XXI\ +\ +CHAPTER XXII\ +\ +BOOK NINE: 1812\ +\ +CHAPTER I\ +\ +CHAPTER II\ +\ +CHAPTER III\ +\ +CHAPTER IV\ +\ +CHAPTER V\ +\ +CHAPTER VI\ +\ +CHAPTER VII\ +\ +CHAPTER VIII\ +\ +CHAPTER IX\ +\ +CHAPTER X\ +\ +CHAPTER XI\ +\ +CHAPTER XII\ +\ +CHAPTER XIII\ +\ +CHAPTER XIV\ +\ +CHAPTER XV\ +\ +CHAPTER XVI\ +\ +CHAPTER XVII\ +\ +CHAPTER XVIII\ +\ +CHAPTER XIX\ +\ +CHAPTER XX\ +\ +CHAPTER XXI\ +\ +CHAPTER XXII\ +\ +CHAPTER XXIII\ +\ +BOOK TEN: 1812\ +\ +CHAPTER I\ +\ +CHAPTER II\ +\ +CHAPTER III\ +\ +CHAPTER IV\ +\ +CHAPTER V\ +\ +CHAPTER VI\ +\ +CHAPTER VII\ +\ +CHAPTER VIII\ +\ +CHAPTER IX\ +\ +CHAPTER X\ +\ +CHAPTER XI\ +\ +CHAPTER XII\ +\ +CHAPTER XIII\ +\ +CHAPTER XIV\ +\ +CHAPTER XV\ +\ +CHAPTER XVI\ +\ +CHAPTER XVII\ +\ +CHAPTER XVIII\ +\ +CHAPTER XIX\ +\ +CHAPTER XX\ +\ +CHAPTER XXI\ +\ +CHAPTER XXII\ +\ +CHAPTER XXIII\ +\ +CHAPTER XXIV\ +\ +CHAPTER XXV\ +\ +CHAPTER XXVI\ +\ +CHAPTER XXVII\ +\ +CHAPTER XXVIII\ +\ +CHAPTER XXIX\ +\ +CHAPTER XXX\ +\ +CHAPTER XXXI\ +\ +CHAPTER XXXII\ +\ +CHAPTER XXXIII\ +\ +CHAPTER XXXIV\ +\ +CHAPTER XXXV\ +\ +CHAPTER XXXVI\ +\ +CHAPTER XXXVII\ +\ +CHAPTER XXXVIII\ +\ +CHAPTER XXXIX\ +\ +BOOK ELEVEN: 1812\ +\ +CHAPTER I\ +\ +CHAPTER II\ +\ +CHAPTER III\ +\ +CHAPTER IV\ +\ +CHAPTER V\ +\ +CHAPTER VI\ +\ +CHAPTER VII\ +\ +CHAPTER VIII\ +\ +CHAPTER IX\ +\ +CHAPTER X\ +\ +CHAPTER XI\ +\ +CHAPTER XII\ +\ +CHAPTER XIII\ +\ +CHAPTER XIV\ +\ +CHAPTER XV\ +\ +CHAPTER XVI\ +\ +CHAPTER XVII\ +\ +CHAPTER XVIII\ +\ +CHAPTER XIX\ +\ +CHAPTER XX\ +\ +CHAPTER XXI\ +\ +CHAPTER XXII\ +\ +CHAPTER XXIII\ +\ +CHAPTER XXIV\ +\ +CHAPTER XXV\ +\ +CHAPTER XXVI\ +\ +CHAPTER XXVII\ +\ +CHAPTER XXVIII\ +\ +CHAPTER XXIX\ +\ +CHAPTER XXX\ +\ +CHAPTER XXXI\ +\ +CHAPTER XXXII\ +\ +CHAPTER XXXIII\ +\ +CHAPTER XXXIV\ +\ +BOOK TWELVE: 1812\ +\ +CHAPTER I\ +\ +CHAPTER II\ +\ +CHAPTER III\ +\ +CHAPTER IV\ +\ +CHAPTER V\ +\ +CHAPTER VI\ +\ +CHAPTER VII\ +\ +CHAPTER VIII\ +\ +CHAPTER IX\ +\ +CHAPTER X\ +\ +CHAPTER XI\ +\ +CHAPTER XII\ +\ +CHAPTER XIII\ +\ +CHAPTER XIV\ +\ +CHAPTER XV\ +\ +CHAPTER XVI\ +\ +BOOK THIRTEEN: 1812\ +\ +CHAPTER I\ +\ +CHAPTER II\ +\ +CHAPTER III\ +\ +CHAPTER IV\ +\ +CHAPTER V\ +\ +CHAPTER VI\ +\ +CHAPTER VII\ +\ +CHAPTER VIII\ +\ +CHAPTER IX\ +\ +CHAPTER X\ +\ +CHAPTER XI\ +\ +CHAPTER XII\ +\ +CHAPTER XIII\ +\ +CHAPTER XIV\ +\ +CHAPTER XV\ +\ +CHAPTER XVI\ +\ +CHAPTER XVII\ +\ +CHAPTER XVIII\ +\ +CHAPTER XIX\ +\ +BOOK FOURTEEN: 1812\ +\ +CHAPTER I\ +\ +CHAPTER II\ +\ +CHAPTER III\ +\ +CHAPTER IV\ +\ +CHAPTER V\ +\ +CHAPTER VI\ +\ +CHAPTER VII\ +\ +CHAPTER VIII\ +\ +CHAPTER IX\ +\ +CHAPTER X\ +\ +CHAPTER XI\ +\ +CHAPTER XII\ +\ +CHAPTER XIII\ +\ +CHAPTER XIV\ +\ +CHAPTER XV\ +\ +CHAPTER XVI\ +\ +CHAPTER XVII\ +\ +CHAPTER XVIII\ +\ +CHAPTER XIX\ +\ +BOOK FIFTEEN: 1812 - 13\ +\ +CHAPTER I\ +\ +CHAPTER II\ +\ +CHAPTER III\ +\ +CHAPTER IV\ +\ +CHAPTER V\ +\ +CHAPTER VI\ +\ +CHAPTER VII\ +\ +CHAPTER VIII\ +\ +CHAPTER IX\ +\ +CHAPTER X\ +\ +CHAPTER XI\ +\ +CHAPTER XII\ +\ +CHAPTER XIII\ +\ +CHAPTER XIV\ +\ +CHAPTER XV\ +\ +CHAPTER XVI\ +\ +CHAPTER XVII\ +\ +CHAPTER XVIII\ +\ +CHAPTER XIX\ +\ +CHAPTER XX\ +\ +FIRST EPILOGUE: 1813 - 20\ +\ +CHAPTER I\ +\ +CHAPTER II\ +\ +CHAPTER III\ +\ +CHAPTER IV\ +\ +CHAPTER V\ +\ +CHAPTER VI\ +\ +CHAPTER VII\ +\ +CHAPTER VIII\ +\ +CHAPTER IX\ +\ +CHAPTER X\ +\ +CHAPTER XI\ +\ +CHAPTER XII\ +\ +CHAPTER XIII\ +\ +CHAPTER XIV\ +\ +CHAPTER XV\ +\ +CHAPTER XVI\ +\ +SECOND EPILOGUE\ +\ +CHAPTER I\ +\ +CHAPTER II\ +\ +CHAPTER III\ +\ +CHAPTER IV\ +\ +CHAPTER V\ +\ +CHAPTER VI\ +\ +CHAPTER VII\ +\ +CHAPTER VIII\ +\ +CHAPTER IX\ +\ +CHAPTER X\ +\ +CHAPTER XI\ +\ +CHAPTER XII\ +\ +BOOK ONE: 1805\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER I\ +\ +"Well, Prince, so Genoa and Lucca are now just family estates of the\ +Buonapartes. But I warn you, if you don't tell me that this means war,\ +if you still try to defend the infamies and horrors perpetrated by that\ +Antichrist--I really believe he is Antichrist--I will have nothing more\ +to do with you and you are no longer my friend, no longer my 'faithful\ +slave,' as you call yourself! But how do you do? I see I have frightened\ +you--sit down and tell me all the news."\ +\ +It was in July, 1805, and the speaker was the well-known Anna Pavlovna\ +Scherer, maid of honor and favorite of the Empress Marya Fedorovna. With\ +these words she greeted Prince Vasili Kuragin, a man of high rank and\ +importance, who was the first to arrive at her reception. Anna Pavlovna\ +had had a cough for some days. She was, as she said, suffering from la\ +grippe; grippe being then a new word in St. Petersburg, used only by the\ +elite.\ +\ +All her invitations without exception, written in French, and delivered\ +by a scarlet-liveried footman that morning, ran as follows:\ +\ +"If you have nothing better to do, Count (or Prince), and if the\ +prospect of spending an evening with a poor invalid is not too terrible,\ +I shall be very charmed to see you tonight between 7 and 10--Annette\ +Scherer."\ +\ +"Heavens! what a virulent attack!" replied the prince, not in the least\ +disconcerted by this reception. He had just entered, wearing an\ +embroidered court uniform, knee breeches, and shoes, and had stars on\ +his breast and a serene expression on his flat face. He spoke in that\ +refined French in which our grandfathers not only spoke but thought, and\ +with the gentle, patronizing intonation natural to a man of importance\ +who had grown old in society and at court. He went up to Anna Pavlovna,\ +kissed her hand, presenting to her his bald, scented, and shining head,\ +and complacently seated himself on the sofa.\ +\ +"First of all, dear friend, tell me how you are. Set your friend's mind\ +at rest," said he without altering his tone, beneath the politeness and\ +affected sympathy of which indifference and even irony could be\ +discerned.\ +\ +"Can one be well while suffering morally? Can one be calm in times like\ +these if one has any feeling?" said Anna Pavlovna. "You are staying the\ +whole evening, I hope?"\ +\ +"And the fete at the English ambassador's? Today is Wednesday. I must\ +put in an appearance there," said the prince. "My daughter is coming for\ +me to take me there."\ +\ +"I thought today's fete had been canceled. I confess all these\ +festivities and fireworks are becoming wearisome."\ +\ +"If they had known that you wished it, the entertainment would have been\ +put off," said the prince, who, like a wound-up clock, by force of habit\ +said things he did not even wish to be believed.\ +\ +"Don't tease! Well, and what has been decided about Novosiltsev's\ +dispatch? You know everything."\ +\ +"What can one say about it?" replied the prince in a cold, listless\ +tone. "What has been decided? They have decided that Buonaparte has\ +burnt his boats, and I believe that we are ready to burn ours."\ +\ +Prince Vasili always spoke languidly, like an actor repeating a stale\ +part. Anna Pavlovna Scherer on the contrary, despite her forty years,\ +overflowed with animation and impulsiveness. To be an enthusiast had\ +become her social vocation and, sometimes even when she did not feel\ +like it, she became enthusiastic in order not to disappoint the\ +expectations of those who knew her. The subdued smile which, though it\ +did not suit her faded features, always played round her lips expressed,\ +as in a spoiled child, a continual consciousness of her charming defect,\ +which she neither wished, nor could, nor considered it necessary, to\ +correct.\ +\ +In the midst of a conversation on political matters Anna Pavlovna burst\ +out:\ +\ +"Oh, don't speak to me of Austria. Perhaps I don't understand things,\ +but Austria never has wished, and does not wish, for war. She is\ +betraying us! Russia alone must save Europe. Our gracious sovereign\ +recognizes his high vocation and will be true to it. That is the one\ +thing I have faith in! Our good and wonderful sovereign has to perform\ +the noblest role on earth, and he is so virtuous and noble that God will\ +not forsake him. He will fulfill his vocation and crush the hydra of\ +revolution, which has become more terrible than ever in the person of\ +this murderer and villain! We alone must avenge the blood of the just\ +one.... Whom, I ask you, can we rely on?... England with her commercial\ +spirit will not and cannot understand the Emperor Alexander's loftiness\ +of soul. She has refused to evacuate Malta. She wanted to find, and\ +still seeks, some secret motive in our actions. What answer did\ +Novosiltsev get? None. The English have not understood and cannot\ +understand the self-abnegation of our Emperor who wants nothing for\ +himself, but only desires the good of mankind. And what have they\ +promised? Nothing! And what little they have promised they will not\ +perform! Prussia has always declared that Buonaparte is invincible, and\ +that all Europe is powerless before him.... And I don't believe a word\ +that Hardenburg says, or Haugwitz either. This famous Prussian\ +neutrality is just a trap. I have faith only in God and the lofty\ +destiny of our adored monarch. He will save Europe!"\ +\ +She suddenly paused, smiling at her own impetuosity.\ +\ +"I think," said the prince with a smile, "that if you had been sent\ +instead of our dear Wintzingerode you would have captured the King of\ +Prussia's consent by assault. You are so eloquent. Will you give me a\ +cup of tea?"\ +\ +"In a moment. A propos," she added, becoming calm again, "I am expecting\ +two very interesting men tonight, le Vicomte de Mortemart, who is\ +connected with the Montmorencys through the Rohans, one of the best\ +French families. He is one of the genuine emigres, the good ones. And\ +also the Abbe Morio. Do you know that profound thinker? He has been\ +received by the Emperor. Had you heard?"\ +\ +"I shall be delighted to meet them," said the prince. "But tell me," he\ +added with studied carelessness as if it had only just occurred to him,\ +though the question he was about to ask was the chief motive of his\ +visit, "is it true that the Dowager Empress wants Baron Funke to be\ +appointed first secretary at Vienna? The baron by all accounts is a poor\ +creature."\ +\ +Prince Vasili wished to obtain this post for his son, but others were\ +trying through the Dowager Empress Marya Fedorovna to secure it for the\ +baron.\ +\ +Anna Pavlovna almost closed her eyes to indicate that neither she nor\ +anyone else had a right to criticize what the Empress desired or was\ +pleased with.\ +\ +"Baron Funke has been recommended to the Dowager Empress by her sister,"\ +was all she said, in a dry and mournful tone.\ +\ +As she named the Empress, Anna Pavlovna's face suddenly assumed an\ +expression of profound and sincere devotion and respect mingled with\ +sadness, and this occurred every time she mentioned her illustrious\ +patroness. She added that Her Majesty had deigned to show Baron Funke\ +beaucoup d'estime, and again her face clouded over with sadness.\ +\ +The prince was silent and looked indifferent. But, with the womanly and\ +courtierlike quickness and tact habitual to her, Anna Pavlovna wished\ +both to rebuke him (for daring to speak as he had done of a man\ +recommended to the Empress) and at the same time to console him, so she\ +said:\ +\ +"Now about your family. Do you know that since your daughter came out\ +everyone has been enraptured by her? They say she is amazingly\ +beautiful."\ +\ +The prince bowed to signify his respect and gratitude.\ +\ +"I often think," she continued after a short pause, drawing nearer to\ +the prince and smiling amiably at him as if to show that political and\ +social topics were ended and the time had come for intimate\ +conversation--"I often think how unfairly sometimes the joys of life are\ +distributed. Why has fate given you two such splendid children? I don't\ +speak of Anatole, your youngest. I don't like him," she added in a tone\ +admitting of no rejoinder and raising her eyebrows. "Two such charming\ +children. And really you appreciate them less than anyone, and so you\ +don't deserve to have them."\ +\ +And she smiled her ecstatic smile.\ +\ +"I can't help it," said the prince. "Lavater would have said I lack the\ +bump of paternity."\ +\ +"Don't joke; I mean to have a serious talk with you. Do you know I am\ +dissatisfied with your younger son? Between ourselves" (and her face\ +assumed its melancholy expression), "he was mentioned at Her Majesty's\ +and you were pitied...."\ +\ +The prince answered nothing, but she looked at him significantly,\ +awaiting a reply. He frowned.\ +\ +"What would you have me do?" he said at last. "You know I did all a\ +father could for their education, and they have both turned out fools.\ +Hippolyte is at least a quiet fool, but Anatole is an active one. That\ +is the only difference between them." He said this smiling in a way more\ +natural and animated than usual, so that the wrinkles round his mouth\ +very clearly revealed something unexpectedly coarse and unpleasant.\ +\ +"And why are children born to such men as you? If you were not a father\ +there would be nothing I could reproach you with," said Anna Pavlovna,\ +looking up pensively.\ +\ +"I am your faithful slave and to you alone I can confess that my\ +children are the bane of my life. It is the cross I have to bear. That\ +is how I explain it to myself. It can't be helped!"\ +\ +He said no more, but expressed his resignation to cruel fate by a\ +gesture. Anna Pavlovna meditated.\ +\ +"Have you never thought of marrying your prodigal son Anatole?" she\ +asked. "They say old maids have a mania for matchmaking, and though I\ +don't feel that weakness in myself as yet, I know a little person who is\ +very unhappy with her father. She is a relation of yours, Princess Mary\ +Bolkonskaya."\ +\ +Prince Vasili did not reply, though, with the quickness of memory and\ +perception befitting a man of the world, he indicated by a movement of\ +the head that he was considering this information.\ +\ +"Do you know," he said at last, evidently unable to check the sad\ +current of his thoughts, "that Anatole is costing me forty thousand\ +rubles a year? And," he went on after a pause, "what will it be in five\ +years, if he goes on like this?" Presently he added: "That's what we\ +fathers have to put up with.... Is this princess of yours rich?"\ +\ +"Her father is very rich and stingy. He lives in the country. He is the\ +well-known Prince Bolkonski who had to retire from the army under the\ +late Emperor, and was nicknamed 'the King of Prussia.' He is very clever\ +but eccentric, and a bore. The poor girl is very unhappy. She has a\ +brother; I think you know him, he married Lise Meinen lately. He is an\ +aide-de-camp of Kutuzov's and will be here tonight."\ +\ +"Listen, dear Annette," said the prince, suddenly taking Anna Pavlovna's\ +hand and for some reason drawing it downwards. "Arrange that affair for\ +me and I shall always be your most devoted slave-slafe with an f, as a\ +village elder of mine writes in his reports. She is rich and of good\ +family and that's all I want."\ +\ +And with the familiarity and easy grace peculiar to him, he raised the\ +maid of honor's hand to his lips, kissed it, and swung it to and fro as\ +he lay back in his armchair, looking in another direction.\ +\ +"Attendez," said Anna Pavlovna, reflecting, "I'll speak to Lise, young\ +Bolkonski's wife, this very evening, and perhaps the thing can be\ +arranged. It shall be on your family's behalf that I'll start my\ +apprenticeship as old maid."\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER II\ +\ +Anna Pavlovna's drawing room was gradually filling. The highest\ +Petersburg society was assembled there: people differing widely in age\ +and character but alike in the social circle to which they belonged.\ +Prince Vasili's daughter, the beautiful Helene, came to take her father\ +to the ambassador's entertainment; she wore a ball dress and her badge\ +as maid of honor. The youthful little Princess Bolkonskaya, known as la\ +femme la plus seduisante de Petersbourg, * was also there. She had been\ +married during the previous winter, and being pregnant did not go to any\ +large gatherings, but only to small receptions. Prince Vasili's son,\ +Hippolyte, had come with Mortemart, whom he introduced. The Abbe Morio\ +and many others had also come.\ +\ +\ +* The most fascinating woman in Petersburg.\ +\ +To each new arrival Anna Pavlovna said, "You have not yet seen my aunt,"\ +or "You do not know my aunt?" and very gravely conducted him or her to a\ +little old lady, wearing large bows of ribbon in her cap, who had come\ +sailing in from another room as soon as the guests began to arrive; and\ +slowly turning her eyes from the visitor to her aunt, Anna Pavlovna\ +mentioned each one's name and then left them.\ +\ +Each visitor performed the ceremony of greeting this old aunt whom not\ +one of them knew, not one of them wanted to know, and not one of them\ +cared about; Anna Pavlovna observed these greetings with mournful and\ +solemn interest and silent approval. The aunt spoke to each of them in\ +the same words, about their health and her own, and the health of Her\ +Majesty, "who, thank God, was better today." And each visitor, though\ +politeness prevented his showing impatience, left the old woman with a\ +sense of relief at having performed a vexatious duty and did not return\ +to her the whole evening.\ +\ +The young Princess Bolkonskaya had brought some work in a gold-\ +embroidered velvet bag. Her pretty little upper lip, on which a delicate\ +dark down was just perceptible, was too short for her teeth, but it\ +lifted all the more sweetly, and was especially charming when she\ +occasionally drew it down to meet the lower lip. As is always the case\ +with a thoroughly attractive woman, her defect--the shortness of her\ +upper lip and her half-open mouth--seemed to be her own special and\ +peculiar form of beauty. Everyone brightened at the sight of this pretty\ +young woman, so soon to become a mother, so full of life and health, and\ +carrying her burden so lightly. Old men and dull dispirited young ones\ +who looked at her, after being in her company and talking to her a\ +little while, felt as if they too were becoming, like her, full of life\ +and health. All who talked to her, and at each word saw her bright smile\ +and the constant gleam of her white teeth, thought that they were in a\ +specially amiable mood that day.\ +\ +The little princess went round the table with quick, short, swaying\ +steps, her workbag on her arm, and gaily spreading out her dress sat\ +down on a sofa near the silver samovar, as if all she was doing was a\ +pleasure to herself and to all around her. "I have brought my work,"\ +said she in French, displaying her bag and addressing all present.\ +"Mind, Annette, I hope you have not played a wicked trick on me," she\ +added, turning to her hostess. "You wrote that it was to be quite a\ +small reception, and just see how badly I am dressed." And she spread\ +out her arms to show her short-waisted, lace-trimmed, dainty gray dress,\ +girdled with a broad ribbon just below the breast.\ +\ +"Soyez tranquille, Lise, you will always be prettier than anyone else,"\ +replied Anna Pavlovna.\ +\ +"You know," said the princess in the same tone of voice and still in\ +French, turning to a general, "my husband is deserting me? He is going\ +to get himself killed. Tell me what this wretched war is for?" she\ +added, addressing Prince Vasili, and without waiting for an answer she\ +turned to speak to his daughter, the beautiful Helene.\ +\ +"What a delightful woman this little princess is!" said Prince Vasili to\ +Anna Pavlovna.\ +\ +One of the next arrivals was a stout, heavily built young man with\ +close-cropped hair, spectacles, the light-colored breeches fashionable\ +at that time, a very high ruffle, and a brown dress coat. This stout\ +young man was an illegitimate son of Count Bezukhov, a well-known\ +grandee of Catherine's time who now lay dying in Moscow. The young man\ +had not yet entered either the military or civil service, as he had only\ +just returned from abroad where he had been educated, and this was his\ +first appearance in society. Anna Pavlovna greeted him with the nod she\ +accorded to the lowest hierarchy in her drawing room. But in spite of\ +this lowest-grade greeting, a look of anxiety and fear, as at the sight\ +of something too large and unsuited to the place, came over her face\ +when she saw Pierre enter. Though he was certainly rather bigger than\ +the other men in the room, her anxiety could only have reference to the\ +clever though shy, but observant and natural, expression which\ +distinguished him from everyone else in that drawing room.\ +\ +"It is very good of you, Monsieur Pierre, to come and visit a poor\ +invalid," said Anna Pavlovna, exchanging an alarmed glance with her aunt\ +as she conducted him to her.\ +\ +Pierre murmured something unintelligible, and continued to look round as\ +if in search of something. On his way to the aunt he bowed to the little\ +princess with a pleased smile, as to an intimate acquaintance.\ +\ +Anna Pavlovna's alarm was justified, for Pierre turned away from the\ +aunt without waiting to hear her speech about Her Majesty's health. Anna\ +Pavlovna in dismay detained him with the words: "Do you know the Abbe\ +Morio? He is a most interesting man."\ +\ +"Yes, I have heard of his scheme for perpetual peace, and it is very\ +interesting but hardly feasible."\ +\ +"You think so?" rejoined Anna Pavlovna in order to say something and get\ +away to attend to her duties as hostess. But Pierre now committed a\ +reverse act of impoliteness. First he had left a lady before she had\ +finished speaking to him, and now he continued to speak to another who\ +wished to get away. With his head bent, and his big feet spread apart,\ +he began explaining his reasons for thinking the abbe's plan chimerical.\ +\ +"We will talk of it later," said Anna Pavlovna with a smile.\ +\ +And having got rid of this young man who did not know how to behave, she\ +resumed her duties as hostess and continued to listen and watch, ready\ +to help at any point where the conversation might happen to flag. As the\ +foreman of a spinning mill, when he has set the hands to work, goes\ +round and notices here a spindle that has stopped or there one that\ +creaks or makes more noise than it should, and hastens to check the\ +machine or set it in proper motion, so Anna Pavlovna moved about her\ +drawing room, approaching now a silent, now a too-noisy group, and by a\ +word or slight rearrangement kept the conversational machine in steady,\ +proper, and regular motion. But amid these cares her anxiety about\ +Pierre was evident. She kept an anxious watch on him when he approached\ +the group round Mortemart to listen to what was being said there, and\ +again when he passed to another group whose center was the abbe.\ +\ +Pierre had been educated abroad, and this reception at Anna Pavlovna's\ +was the first he had attended in Russia. He knew that all the\ +intellectual lights of Petersburg were gathered there and, like a child\ +in a toyshop, did not know which way to look, afraid of missing any\ +clever conversation that was to be heard. Seeing the self-confident and\ +refined expression on the faces of those present he was always expecting\ +to hear something very profound. At last he came up to Morio. Here the\ +conversation seemed interesting and he stood waiting for an opportunity\ +to express his own views, as young people are fond of doing.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER III\ +\ +Anna Pavlovna's reception was in full swing. The spindles hummed\ +steadily and ceaselessly on all sides. With the exception of the aunt,\ +beside whom sat only one elderly lady, who with her thin careworn face\ +was rather out of place in this brilliant society, the whole company had\ +settled into three groups. One, chiefly masculine, had formed round the\ +abbe. Another, of young people, was grouped round the beautiful Princess\ +Helene, Prince Vasili's daughter, and the little Princess Bolkonskaya,\ +very pretty and rosy, though rather too plump for her age. The third\ +group was gathered round Mortemart and Anna Pavlovna.\ +\ +The vicomte was a nice-looking young man with soft features and polished\ +manners, who evidently considered himself a celebrity but out of\ +politeness modestly placed himself at the disposal of the circle in\ +which he found himself. Anna Pavlovna was obviously serving him up as a\ +treat to her guests. As a clever maitre d'hotel serves up as a specially\ +choice delicacy a piece of meat that no one who had seen it in the\ +kitchen would have cared to eat, so Anna Pavlovna served up to her\ +guests, first the vicomte and then the abbe, as peculiarly choice\ +morsels. The group about Mortemart immediately began discussing the\ +murder of the Duc d'Enghien. The vicomte said that the Duc d'Enghien had\ +perished by his own magnanimity, and that there were particular reasons\ +for Buonaparte's hatred of him.\ +\ +"Ah, yes! Do tell us all about it, Vicomte," said Anna Pavlovna, with a\ +pleasant feeling that there was something a la Louis XV in the sound of\ +that sentence: "Contez nous cela, Vicomte."\ +\ +The vicomte bowed and smiled courteously in token of his willingness to\ +comply. Anna Pavlovna arranged a group round him, inviting everyone to\ +listen to his tale.\ +\ +"The vicomte knew the duc personally," whispered Anna Pavlovna to one of\ +the guests. "The vicomte is a wonderful raconteur," said she to another.\ +"How evidently he belongs to the best society," said she to a third; and\ +the vicomte was served up to the company in the choicest and most\ +advantageous style, like a well-garnished joint of roast beef on a hot\ +dish.\ +\ +The vicomte wished to begin his story and gave a subtle smile.\ +\ +"Come over here, Helene, dear," said Anna Pavlovna to the beautiful\ +young princess who was sitting some way off, the center of another\ +group.\ +\ +The princess smiled. She rose with the same unchanging smile with which\ +she had first entered the room--the smile of a perfectly beautiful\ +woman. With a slight rustle of her white dress trimmed with moss and\ +ivy, with a gleam of white shoulders, glossy hair, and sparkling\ +diamonds, she passed between the men who made way for her, not looking\ +at any of them but smiling on all, as if graciously allowing each the\ +privilege of admiring her beautiful figure and shapely shoulders, back,\ +and bosom--which in the fashion of those days were very much exposed--\ +and she seemed to bring the glamour of a ballroom with her as she moved\ +toward Anna Pavlovna. Helene was so lovely that not only did she not\ +show any trace of coquetry, but on the contrary she even appeared shy of\ +her unquestionable and all too victorious beauty. She seemed to wish,\ +but to be unable, to diminish its effect.\ +\ +"How lovely!" said everyone who saw her; and the vicomte lifted his\ +shoulders and dropped his eyes as if startled by something extraordinary\ +when she took her seat opposite and beamed upon him also with her\ +unchanging smile.\ +\ +"Madame, I doubt my ability before such an audience," said he, smilingly\ +inclining his head.\ +\ +The princess rested her bare round arm on a little table and considered\ +a reply unnecessary. She smilingly waited. All the time the story was\ +being told she sat upright, glancing now at her beautiful round arm,\ +altered in shape by its pressure on the table, now at her still more\ +beautiful bosom, on which she readjusted a diamond necklace. From time\ +to time she smoothed the folds of her dress, and whenever the story\ +produced an effect she glanced at Anna Pavlovna, at once adopted just\ +the expression she saw on the maid of honor's face, and again relapsed\ +into her radiant smile.\ +\ +The little princess had also left the tea table and followed Helene.\ +\ +"Wait a moment, I'll get my work.... Now then, what are you thinking\ +of?" she went on, turning to Prince Hippolyte. "Fetch me my workbag."\ +\ +There was a general movement as the princess, smiling and talking\ +merrily to everyone at once, sat down and gaily arranged herself in her\ +seat.\ +\ +"Now I am all right," she said, and asking the vicomte to begin, she\ +took up her work.\ +\ +Prince Hippolyte, having brought the workbag, joined the circle and\ +moving a chair close to hers seated himself beside her.\ +\ +Le charmant Hippolyte was surprising by his extraordinary resemblance to\ +his beautiful sister, but yet more by the fact that in spite of this\ +resemblance he was exceedingly ugly. His features were like his\ +sister's, but while in her case everything was lit up by a joyous, self-\ +satisfied, youthful, and constant smile of animation, and by the\ +wonderful classic beauty of her figure, his face on the contrary was\ +dulled by imbecility and a constant expression of sullen self-\ +confidence, while his body was thin and weak. His eyes, nose, and mouth\ +all seemed puckered into a vacant, wearied grimace, and his arms and\ +legs always fell into unnatural positions.\ +\ +"It's not going to be a ghost story?" said he, sitting down beside the\ +princess and hastily adjusting his lorgnette, as if without this\ +instrument he could not begin to speak.\ +\ +"Why no, my dear fellow," said the astonished narrator, shrugging his\ +shoulders.\ +\ +"Because I hate ghost stories," said Prince Hippolyte in a tone which\ +showed that he only understood the meaning of his words after he had\ +uttered them.\ +\ +He spoke with such self-confidence that his hearers could not be sure\ +whether what he said was very witty or very stupid. He was dressed in a\ +dark-green dress coat, knee breeches of the color of cuisse de nymphe\ +effrayee, as he called it, shoes, and silk stockings.\ +\ +The vicomte told his tale very neatly. It was an anecdote, then current,\ +to the effect that the Duc d'Enghien had gone secretly to Paris to visit\ +Mademoiselle George; that at her house he came upon Bonaparte, who also\ +enjoyed the famous actress' favors, and that in his presence Napoleon\ +happened to fall into one of the fainting fits to which he was subject,\ +and was thus at the duc's mercy. The latter spared him, and this\ +magnanimity Bonaparte subsequently repaid by death.\ +\ +The story was very pretty and interesting, especially at the point where\ +the rivals suddenly recognized one another; and the ladies looked\ +agitated.\ +\ +"Charming!" said Anna Pavlovna with an inquiring glance at the little\ +princess.\ +\ +"Charming!" whispered the little princess, sticking the needle into her\ +work as if to testify that the interest and fascination of the story\ +prevented her from going on with it.\ +\ +The vicomte appreciated this silent praise and smiling gratefully\ +prepared to continue, but just then Anna Pavlovna, who had kept a\ +watchful eye on the young man who so alarmed her, noticed that he was\ +talking too loudly and vehemently with the abbe, so she hurried to the\ +rescue. Pierre had managed to start a conversation with the abbe about\ +the balance of power, and the latter, evidently interested by the young\ +man's simple-minded eagerness, was explaining his pet theory. Both were\ +talking and listening too eagerly and too naturally, which was why Anna\ +Pavlovna disapproved.\ +\ +"The means are... the balance of power in Europe and the rights of the\ +people," the abbe was saying. "It is only necessary for one powerful\ +nation like Russia--barbaric as she is said to be--to place herself\ +disinterestedly at the head of an alliance having for its object the\ +maintenance of the balance of power of Europe, and it would save the\ +world!"\ +\ +"But how are you to get that balance?" Pierre was beginning.\ +\ +At that moment Anna Pavlovna came up and, looking severely at Pierre,\ +asked the Italian how he stood Russian climate. The Italian's face\ +instantly changed and assumed an offensively affected, sugary\ +expression, evidently habitual to him when conversing with women.\ +\ +"I am so enchanted by the brilliancy of the wit and culture of the\ +society, more especially of the feminine society, in which I have had\ +the honor of being received, that I have not yet had time to think of\ +the climate," said he.\ +\ +Not letting the abbe and Pierre escape, Anna Pavlovna, the more\ +conveniently to keep them under observation, brought them into the\ +larger circle.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER IV\ +\ +Just then another visitor entered the drawing room: Prince Andrew\ +Bolkonski, the little princess' husband. He was a very handsome young\ +man, of medium height, with firm, clearcut features. Everything about\ +him, from his weary, bored expression to his quiet, measured step,\ +offered a most striking contrast to his quiet, little wife. It was\ +evident that he not only knew everyone in the drawing room, but had\ +found them to be so tiresome that it wearied him to look at or listen to\ +them. And among all these faces that he found so tedious, none seemed to\ +bore him so much as that of his pretty wife. He turned away from her\ +with a grimace that distorted his handsome face, kissed Anna Pavlovna's\ +hand, and screwing up his eyes scanned the whole company.\ +\ +"You are off to the war, Prince?" said Anna Pavlovna.\ +\ +"General Kutuzov," said Bolkonski, speaking French and stressing the\ +last syllable of the general's name like a Frenchman, "has been pleased\ +to take me as an aide-de-camp...."\ +\ +"And Lise, your wife?"\ +\ +"She will go to the country."\ +\ +"Are you not ashamed to deprive us of your charming wife?"\ +\ +"Andre," said his wife, addressing her husband in the same coquettish\ +manner in which she spoke to other men, "the vicomte has been telling us\ +such a tale about Mademoiselle George and Buonaparte!"\ +\ +Prince Andrew screwed up his eyes and turned away. Pierre, who from the\ +moment Prince Andrew entered the room had watched him with glad,\ +affectionate eyes, now came up and took his arm. Before he looked round\ +Prince Andrew frowned again, expressing his annoyance with whoever was\ +touching his arm, but when he saw Pierre's beaming face he gave him an\ +unexpectedly kind and pleasant smile.\ +\ +"There now!... So you, too, are in the great world?" said he to Pierre.\ +\ +"I knew you would be here," replied Pierre. "I will come to supper with\ +you. May I?" he added in a low voice so as not to disturb the vicomte\ +who was continuing his story.\ +\ +"No, impossible!" said Prince Andrew, laughing and pressing Pierre's\ +hand to show that there was no need to ask the question. He wished to\ +say something more, but at that moment Prince Vasili and his daughter\ +got up to go and the two young men rose to let them pass.\ +\ +"You must excuse me, dear Vicomte," said Prince Vasili to the Frenchman,\ +holding him down by the sleeve in a friendly way to prevent his rising.\ +"This unfortunate fete at the ambassador's deprives me of a pleasure,\ +and obliges me to interrupt you. I am very sorry to leave your\ +enchanting party," said he, turning to Anna Pavlovna.\ +\ +His daughter, Princess Helene, passed between the chairs, lightly\ +holding up the folds of her dress, and the smile shone still more\ +radiantly on her beautiful face. Pierre gazed at her with rapturous,\ +almost frightened, eyes as she passed him.\ +\ +"Very lovely," said Prince Andrew.\ +\ +"Very," said Pierre.\ +\ +In passing Prince Vasili seized Pierre's hand and said to Anna Pavlovna:\ +"Educate this bear for me! He has been staying with me a whole month and\ +this is the first time I have seen him in society. Nothing is so\ +necessary for a young man as the society of clever women."\ +\ +Anna Pavlovna smiled and promised to take Pierre in hand. She knew his\ +father to be a connection of Prince Vasili's. The elderly lady who had\ +been sitting with the old aunt rose hurriedly and overtook Prince Vasili\ +in the anteroom. All the affectation of interest she had assumed had\ +left her kindly and tear-worn face and it now expressed only anxiety and\ +fear.\ +\ +"How about my son Boris, Prince?" said she, hurrying after him into the\ +anteroom. "I can't remain any longer in Petersburg. Tell me what news I\ +may take back to my poor boy."\ +\ +Although Prince Vasili listened reluctantly and not very politely to the\ +elderly lady, even betraying some impatience, she gave him an\ +ingratiating and appealing smile, and took his hand that he might not go\ +away.\ +\ +"What would it cost you to say a word to the Emperor, and then he would\ +be transferred to the Guards at once?" said she.\ +\ +"Believe me, Princess, I am ready to do all I can," answered Prince\ +Vasili, "but it is difficult for me to ask the Emperor. I should advise\ +you to appeal to Rumyantsev through Prince Golitsyn. That would be the\ +best way."\ +\ +The elderly lady was a Princess Drubetskaya, belonging to one of the\ +best families in Russia, but she was poor, and having long been out of\ +society had lost her former influential connections. She had now come to\ +Petersburg to procure an appointment in the Guards for her only son. It\ +was, in fact, solely to meet Prince Vasili that she had obtained an\ +invitation to Anna Pavlovna's reception and had sat listening to the\ +vicomte's story. Prince Vasili's words frightened her, an embittered\ +look clouded her once handsome face, but only for a moment; then she\ +smiled again and clutched Prince Vasili's arm more tightly.\ +\ +"Listen to me, Prince," said she. "I have never yet asked you for\ +anything and I never will again, nor have I ever reminded you of my\ +father's friendship for you; but now I entreat you for God's sake to do\ +this for my son--and I shall always regard you as a benefactor," she\ +added hurriedly. "No, don't be angry, but promise! I have asked Golitsyn\ +and he has refused. Be the kindhearted man you always were," she said,\ +trying to smile though tears were in her eyes.\ +\ +"Papa, we shall be late," said Princess Helene, turning her beautiful\ +head and looking over her classically molded shoulder as she stood\ +waiting by the door.\ +\ +Influence in society, however, is a capital which has to be economized\ +if it is to last. Prince Vasili knew this, and having once realized that\ +if he asked on behalf of all who begged of him, he would soon be unable\ +to ask for himself, he became chary of using his influence. But in\ +Princess Drubetskaya's case he felt, after her second appeal, something\ +like qualms of conscience. She had reminded him of what was quite true;\ +he had been indebted to her father for the first steps in his career.\ +Moreover, he could see by her manners that she was one of those women--\ +mostly mothers--who, having once made up their minds, will not rest\ +until they have gained their end, and are prepared if necessary to go on\ +insisting day after day and hour after hour, and even to make scenes.\ +This last consideration moved him.\ +\ +"My dear Anna Mikhaylovna," said he with his usual familiarity and\ +weariness of tone, "it is almost impossible for me to do what you ask;\ +but to prove my devotion to you and how I respect your father's memory,\ +I will do the impossible--your son shall be transferred to the Guards.\ +Here is my hand on it. Are you satisfied?"\ +\ +"My dear benefactor! This is what I expected from you--I knew your\ +kindness!" He turned to go.\ +\ +"Wait--just a word! When he has been transferred to the Guards..." she\ +faltered. "You are on good terms with Michael Ilarionovich Kutuzov...\ +recommend Boris to him as adjutant! Then I shall be at rest, and\ +then..."\ +\ +Prince Vasili smiled.\ +\ +"No, I won't promise that. You don't know how Kutuzov is pestered since\ +his appointment as Commander in Chief. He told me himself that all the\ +Moscow ladies have conspired to give him all their sons as adjutants."\ +\ +"No, but do promise! I won't let you go! My dear benefactor..."\ +\ +"Papa," said his beautiful daughter in the same tone as before, "we\ +shall be late."\ +\ +"Well, au revoir! Good-bye! You hear her?"\ +\ +"Then tomorrow you will speak to the Emperor?"\ +\ +"Certainly; but about Kutuzov, I don't promise."\ +\ +"Do promise, do promise, Vasili!" cried Anna Mikhaylovna as he went,\ +with the smile of a coquettish girl, which at one time probably came\ +naturally to her, but was now very ill-suited to her careworn face.\ +\ +Apparently she had forgotten her age and by force of habit employed all\ +the old feminine arts. But as soon as the prince had gone her face\ +resumed its former cold, artificial expression. She returned to the\ +group where the vicomte was still talking, and again pretended to\ +listen, while waiting till it would be time to leave. Her task was\ +accomplished.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER V\ +\ +"And what do you think of this latest comedy, the coronation at Milan?"\ +asked Anna Pavlovna, "and of the comedy of the people of Genoa and Lucca\ +laying their petitions before Monsieur Buonaparte, and Monsieur\ +Buonaparte sitting on a throne and granting the petitions of the\ +nations? Adorable! It is enough to make one's head whirl! It is as if\ +the whole world had gone crazy."\ +\ +Prince Andrew looked Anna Pavlovna straight in the face with a sarcastic\ +smile.\ +\ +"'Dieu me la donne, gare a qui la touche!' * They say he was very fine\ +when he said that," he remarked, repeating the words in Italian: "'Dio\ +mi l'ha dato. Guai a chi la tocchi!'"\ +\ +\ +* God has given it to me, let him who touches it beware!\ +\ +"I hope this will prove the last drop that will make the glass run\ +over," Anna Pavlovna continued. "The sovereigns will not be able to\ +endure this man who is a menace to everything."\ +\ +"The sovereigns? I do not speak of Russia," said the vicomte, polite but\ +hopeless: "The sovereigns, madame... What have they done for Louis XVII,\ +for the Queen, or for Madame Elizabeth? Nothing!" and he became more\ +animated. "And believe me, they are reaping the reward of their betrayal\ +of the Bourbon cause. The sovereigns! Why, they are sending ambassadors\ +to compliment the usurper."\ +\ +And sighing disdainfully, he again changed his position.\ +\ +Prince Hippolyte, who had been gazing at the vicomte for some time\ +through his lorgnette, suddenly turned completely round toward the\ +little princess, and having asked for a needle began tracing the Conde\ +coat of arms on the table. He explained this to her with as much gravity\ +as if she had asked him to do it.\ +\ +"Baton de gueules, engrele de gueules d'azur--maison Conde," said he.\ +\ +The princess listened, smiling.\ +\ +"If Buonaparte remains on the throne of France a year longer," the\ +vicomte continued, with the air of a man who, in a matter with which he\ +is better acquainted than anyone else, does not listen to others but\ +follows the current of his own thoughts, "things will have gone too far.\ +By intrigues, violence, exile, and executions, French society--I mean\ +good French society--will have been forever destroyed, and then..."\ +\ +He shrugged his shoulders and spread out his hands. Pierre wished to\ +make a remark, for the conversation interested him, but Anna Pavlovna,\ +who had him under observation, interrupted:\ +\ +"The Emperor Alexander," said she, with the melancholy which always\ +accompanied any reference of hers to the Imperial family, "has declared\ +that he will leave it to the French people themselves to choose their\ +own form of government; and I believe that once free from the usurper,\ +the whole nation will certainly throw itself into the arms of its\ +rightful king," she concluded, trying to be amiable to the royalist\ +emigrant.\ +\ +"That is doubtful," said Prince Andrew. "Monsieur le Vicomte quite\ +rightly supposes that matters have already gone too far. I think it will\ +be difficult to return to the old regime."\ +\ +"From what I have heard," said Pierre, blushing and breaking into the\ +conversation, "almost all the aristocracy has already gone over to\ +Bonaparte's side."\ +\ +"It is the Buonapartists who say that," replied the vicomte without\ +looking at Pierre. "At the present time it is difficult to know the real\ +state of French public opinion."\ +\ +"Bonaparte has said so," remarked Prince Andrew with a sarcastic smile.\ +\ +It was evident that he did not like the vicomte and was aiming his\ +remarks at him, though without looking at him.\ +\ +"'I showed them the path to glory, but they did not follow it,'" Prince\ +Andrew continued after a short silence, again quoting Napoleon's words.\ +"'I opened my antechambers and they crowded in.' I do not know how far\ +he was justified in saying so."\ +\ +"Not in the least," replied the vicomte. "After the murder of the duc\ +even the most partial ceased to regard him as a hero. If to some\ +people," he went on, turning to Anna Pavlovna, "he ever was a hero,\ +after the murder of the duc there was one martyr more in heaven and one\ +hero less on earth."\ +\ +Before Anna Pavlovna and the others had time to smile their appreciation\ +of the vicomte's epigram, Pierre again broke into the conversation, and\ +though Anna Pavlovna felt sure he would say something inappropriate, she\ +was unable to stop him.\ +\ +"The execution of the Duc d'Enghien," declared Monsieur Pierre, "was a\ +political necessity, and it seems to me that Napoleon showed greatness\ +of soul by not fearing to take on himself the whole responsibility of\ +that deed."\ +\ +"Dieu! Mon Dieu!" muttered Anna Pavlovna in a terrified whisper.\ +\ +"What, Monsieur Pierre... Do you consider that assassination shows\ +greatness of soul?" said the little princess, smiling and drawing her\ +work nearer to her.\ +\ +"Oh! Oh!" exclaimed several voices.\ +\ +"Capital!" said Prince Hippolyte in English, and began slapping his knee\ +with the palm of his hand.\ +\ +The vicomte merely shrugged his shoulders. Pierre looked solemnly at his\ +audience over his spectacles and continued.\ +\ +"I say so," he continued desperately, "because the Bourbons fled from\ +the Revolution leaving the people to anarchy, and Napoleon alone\ +understood the Revolution and quelled it, and so for the general good,\ +he could not stop short for the sake of one man's life."\ +\ +"Won't you come over to the other table?" suggested Anna Pavlovna.\ +\ +But Pierre continued his speech without heeding her.\ +\ +"No," cried he, becoming more and more eager, "Napoleon is great because\ +he rose superior to the Revolution, suppressed its abuses, preserved all\ +that was good in it--equality of citizenship and freedom of speech and\ +of the press--and only for that reason did he obtain power."\ +\ +"Yes, if having obtained power, without availing himself of it to commit\ +murder he had restored it to the rightful king, I should have called him\ +a great man," remarked the vicomte.\ +\ +"He could not do that. The people only gave him power that he might rid\ +them of the Bourbons and because they saw that he was a great man. The\ +Revolution was a grand thing!" continued Monsieur Pierre, betraying by\ +this desperate and provocative proposition his extreme youth and his\ +wish to express all that was in his mind.\ +\ +"What? Revolution and regicide a grand thing?... Well, after that... But\ +won't you come to this other table?" repeated Anna Pavlovna.\ +\ +"Rousseau's Contrat Social," said the vicomte with a tolerant smile.\ +\ +"I am not speaking of regicide, I am speaking about ideas."\ +\ +"Yes: ideas of robbery, murder, and regicide," again interjected an\ +ironical voice.\ +\ +"Those were extremes, no doubt, but they are not what is most important.\ +What is important are the rights of man, emancipation from prejudices,\ +and equality of citizenship, and all these ideas Napoleon has retained\ +in full force."\ +\ +"Liberty and equality," said the vicomte contemptuously, as if at last\ +deciding seriously to prove to this youth how foolish his words were,\ +"high-sounding words which have long been discredited. Who does not love\ +liberty and equality? Even our Saviour preached liberty and equality.\ +Have people since the Revolution become happier? On the contrary. We\ +wanted liberty, but Buonaparte has destroyed it."\ +\ +Prince Andrew kept looking with an amused smile from Pierre to the\ +vicomte and from the vicomte to their hostess. In the first moment of\ +Pierre's outburst Anna Pavlovna, despite her social experience, was\ +horror-struck. But when she saw that Pierre's sacrilegious words had not\ +exasperated the vicomte, and had convinced herself that it was\ +impossible to stop him, she rallied her forces and joined the vicomte in\ +a vigorous attack on the orator.\ +\ +"But, my dear Monsieur Pierre," said she, "how do you explain the fact\ +of a great man executing a duc--or even an ordinary man who--is innocent\ +and untried?"\ +\ +"I should like," said the vicomte, "to ask how monsieur explains the\ +18th Brumaire; was not that an imposture? It was a swindle, and not at\ +all like the conduct of a great man!"\ +\ +"And the prisoners he killed in Africa? That was horrible!" said the\ +little princess, shrugging her shoulders.\ +\ +"He's a low fellow, say what you will," remarked Prince Hippolyte.\ +\ +Pierre, not knowing whom to answer, looked at them all and smiled. His\ +smile was unlike the half-smile of other people. When he smiled, his\ +grave, even rather gloomy, look was instantaneously replaced by another-\ +-a childlike, kindly, even rather silly look, which seemed to ask\ +forgiveness.\ +\ +The vicomte who was meeting him for the first time saw clearly that this\ +young Jacobin was not so terrible as his words suggested. All were\ +silent.\ +\ +"How do you expect him to answer you all at once?" said Prince Andrew.\ +"Besides, in the actions of a statesman one has to distinguish between\ +his acts as a private person, as a general, and as an emperor. So it\ +seems to me."\ +\ +"Yes, yes, of course!" Pierre chimed in, pleased at the arrival of this\ +reinforcement.\ +\ +"One must admit," continued Prince Andrew, "that Napoleon as a man was\ +great on the bridge of Arcola, and in the hospital at Jaffa where he\ +gave his hand to the plague-stricken; but... but there are other acts\ +which it is difficult to justify."\ +\ +Prince Andrew, who had evidently wished to tone down the awkwardness of\ +Pierre's remarks, rose and made a sign to his wife that it was time to\ +go.\ +\ +Suddenly Prince Hippolyte started up making signs to everyone to attend,\ +and asking them all to be seated began:\ +\ +"I was told a charming Moscow story today and must treat you to it.\ +Excuse me, Vicomte--I must tell it in Russian or the point will be\ +lost...." And Prince Hippolyte began to tell his story in such Russian\ +as a Frenchman would speak after spending about a year in Russia.\ +Everyone waited, so emphatically and eagerly did he demand their\ +attention to his story.\ +\ +"There is in Moscow a lady, une dame, and she is very stingy. She must\ +have two footmen behind her carriage, and very big ones. That was her\ +taste. And she had a lady's maid, also big. She said..."\ +\ +Here Prince Hippolyte paused, evidently collecting his ideas with\ +difficulty.\ +\ +"She said... Oh yes! She said, 'Girl,' to the maid, 'put on a livery,\ +get up behind the carriage, and come with me while I make some calls.'"\ +\ +Here Prince Hippolyte spluttered and burst out laughing long before his\ +audience, which produced an effect unfavorable to the narrator. Several\ +persons, among them the elderly lady and Anna Pavlovna, did however\ +smile.\ +\ +"She went. Suddenly there was a great wind. The girl lost her hat and\ +her long hair came down...." Here he could contain himself no longer and\ +went on, between gasps of laughter: "And the whole world knew...."\ +\ +And so the anecdote ended. Though it was unintelligible why he had told\ +it, or why it had to be told in Russian, still Anna Pavlovna and the\ +others appreciated Prince Hippolyte's social tact in so agreeably ending\ +Pierre's unpleasant and unamiable outburst. After the anecdote the\ +conversation broke up into insignificant small talk about the last and\ +next balls, about theatricals, and who would meet whom, and when and\ +where.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER VI\ +\ +Having thanked Anna Pavlovna for her charming soiree, the guests began\ +to take their leave.\ +\ +Pierre was ungainly. Stout, about the average height, broad, with huge\ +red hands; he did not know, as the saying is, how to enter a drawing\ +room and still less how to leave one; that is, how to say something\ +particularly agreeable before going away. Besides this he was absent-\ +minded. When he rose to go, he took up instead of his own, the general's\ +three-cornered hat, and held it, pulling at the plume, till the general\ +asked him to restore it. All his absent-mindedness and inability to\ +enter a room and converse in it was, however, redeemed by his kindly,\ +simple, and modest expression. Anna Pavlovna turned toward him and, with\ +a Christian mildness that expressed forgiveness of his indiscretion,\ +nodded and said: "I hope to see you again, but I also hope you will\ +change your opinions, my dear Monsieur Pierre."\ +\ +When she said this, he did not reply and only bowed, but again everybody\ +saw his smile, which said nothing, unless perhaps, "Opinions are\ +opinions, but you see what a capital, good-natured fellow I am." And\ +everyone, including Anna Pavlovna, felt this.\ +\ +Prince Andrew had gone out into the hall, and, turning his shoulders to\ +the footman who was helping him on with his cloak, listened\ +indifferently to his wife's chatter with Prince Hippolyte who had also\ +come into the hall. Prince Hippolyte stood close to the pretty, pregnant\ +princess, and stared fixedly at her through his eyeglass.\ +\ +"Go in, Annette, or you will catch cold," said the little princess,\ +taking leave of Anna Pavlovna. "It is settled," she added in a low\ +voice.\ +\ +Anna Pavlovna had already managed to speak to Lise about the match she\ +contemplated between Anatole and the little princess' sister-in-law.\ +\ +"I rely on you, my dear," said Anna Pavlovna, also in a low tone. "Write\ +to her and let me know how her father looks at the matter. Au revoir!"--\ +and she left the hall.\ +\ +Prince Hippolyte approached the little princess and, bending his face\ +close to her, began to whisper something.\ +\ +Two footmen, the princess' and his own, stood holding a shawl and a\ +cloak, waiting for the conversation to finish. They listened to the\ +French sentences which to them were meaningless, with an air of\ +understanding but not wishing to appear to do so. The princess as usual\ +spoke smilingly and listened with a laugh.\ +\ +"I am very glad I did not go to the ambassador's," said Prince Hippolyte\ +"-so dull-. It has been a delightful evening, has it not? Delightful!"\ +\ +"They say the ball will be very good," replied the princess, drawing up\ +her downy little lip. "All the pretty women in society will be there."\ +\ +"Not all, for you will not be there; not all," said Prince Hippolyte\ +smiling joyfully; and snatching the shawl from the footman, whom he even\ +pushed aside, he began wrapping it round the princess. Either from\ +awkwardness or intentionally (no one could have said which) after the\ +shawl had been adjusted he kept his arm around her for a long time, as\ +though embracing her.\ +\ +Still smiling, she gracefully moved away, turning and glancing at her\ +husband. Prince Andrew's eyes were closed, so weary and sleepy did he\ +seem.\ +\ +"Are you ready?" he asked his wife, looking past her.\ +\ +Prince Hippolyte hurriedly put on his cloak, which in the latest fashion\ +reached to his very heels, and, stumbling in it, ran out into the porch\ +following the princess, whom a footman was helping into the carriage.\ +\ +"Princesse, au revoir," cried he, stumbling with his tongue as well as\ +with his feet.\ +\ +The princess, picking up her dress, was taking her seat in the dark\ +carriage, her husband was adjusting his saber; Prince Hippolyte, under\ +pretense of helping, was in everyone's way.\ +\ +"Allow me, sir," said Prince Andrew in Russian in a cold, disagreeable\ +tone to Prince Hippolyte who was blocking his path.\ +\ +"I am expecting you, Pierre," said the same voice, but gently and\ +affectionately.\ +\ +The postilion started, the carriage wheels rattled. Prince Hippolyte\ +laughed spasmodically as he stood in the porch waiting for the vicomte\ +whom he had promised to take home.\ +\ +"Well, mon cher," said the vicomte, having seated himself beside\ +Hippolyte in the carriage, "your little princess is very nice, very nice\ +indeed, quite French," and he kissed the tips of his fingers. Hippolyte\ +burst out laughing.\ +\ +"Do you know, you are a terrible chap for all your innocent airs,"\ +continued the vicomte. "I pity the poor husband, that little officer who\ +gives himself the airs of a monarch."\ +\ +Hippolyte spluttered again, and amid his laughter said, "And you were\ +saying that the Russian ladies are not equal to the French? One has to\ +know how to deal with them."\ +\ +Pierre reaching the house first went into Prince Andrew's study like one\ +quite at home, and from habit immediately lay down on the sofa, took\ +from the shelf the first book that came to his hand (it was Caesar's\ +Commentaries), and resting on his elbow, began reading it in the middle.\ +\ +"What have you done to Mlle Scherer? She will be quite ill now," said\ +Prince Andrew, as he entered the study, rubbing his small white hands.\ +\ +Pierre turned his whole body, making the sofa creak. He lifted his eager\ +face to Prince Andrew, smiled, and waved his hand.\ +\ +"That abbe is very interesting but he does not see the thing in the\ +right light.... In my opinion perpetual peace is possible but--I do not\ +know how to express it... not by a balance of political power...."\ +\ +It was evident that Prince Andrew was not interested in such abstract\ +conversation.\ +\ +"One can't everywhere say all one thinks, mon cher. Well, have you at\ +last decided on anything? Are you going to be a guardsman or a\ +diplomatist?" asked Prince Andrew after a momentary silence.\ +\ +Pierre sat up on the sofa, with his legs tucked under him.\ +\ +"Really, I don't yet know. I don't like either the one or the other."\ +\ +"But you must decide on something! Your father expects it."\ +\ +Pierre at the age of ten had been sent abroad with an abbe as tutor, and\ +had remained away till he was twenty. When he returned to Moscow his\ +father dismissed the abbe and said to the young man, "Now go to\ +Petersburg, look round, and choose your profession. I will agree to\ +anything. Here is a letter to Prince Vasili, and here is money. Write to\ +me all about it, and I will help you in everything." Pierre had already\ +been choosing a career for three months, and had not decided on\ +anything. It was about this choice that Prince Andrew was speaking.\ +Pierre rubbed his forehead.\ +\ +"But he must be a Freemason," said he, referring to the abbe whom he had\ +met that evening.\ +\ +"That is all nonsense." Prince Andrew again interrupted him, "let us\ +talk business. Have you been to the Horse Guards?"\ +\ +"No, I have not; but this is what I have been thinking and wanted to\ +tell you. There is a war now against Napoleon. If it were a war for\ +freedom I could understand it and should be the first to enter the army;\ +but to help England and Austria against the greatest man in the world is\ +not right."\ +\ +Prince Andrew only shrugged his shoulders at Pierre's childish words. He\ +put on the air of one who finds it impossible to reply to such nonsense,\ +but it would in fact have been difficult to give any other answer than\ +the one Prince Andrew gave to this naive question.\ +\ +"If no one fought except on his own conviction, there would be no wars,"\ +he said.\ +\ +"And that would be splendid," said Pierre.\ +\ +Prince Andrew smiled ironically.\ +\ +"Very likely it would be splendid, but it will never come about..."\ +\ +"Well, why are you going to the war?" asked Pierre.\ +\ +"What for? I don't know. I must. Besides that I am going..." He paused.\ +"I am going because the life I am leading here does not suit me!"\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER VII\ +\ +The rustle of a woman's dress was heard in the next room. Prince Andrew\ +shook himself as if waking up, and his face assumed the look it had had\ +in Anna Pavlovna's drawing room. Pierre removed his feet from the sofa.\ +The princess came in. She had changed her gown for a house dress as\ +fresh and elegant as the other. Prince Andrew rose and politely placed a\ +chair for her.\ +\ +"How is it," she began, as usual in French, settling down briskly and\ +fussily in the easy chair, "how is it Annette never got married? How\ +stupid you men all are not to have married her! Excuse me for saying so,\ +but you have no sense about women. What an argumentative fellow you are,\ +Monsieur Pierre!"\ +\ +"And I am still arguing with your husband. I can't understand why he\ +wants to go to the war," replied Pierre, addressing the princess with\ +none of the embarrassment so commonly shown by young men in their\ +intercourse with young women.\ +\ +The princess started. Evidently Pierre's words touched her to the quick.\ +\ +"Ah, that is just what I tell him!" said she. "I don't understand it; I\ +don't in the least understand why men can't live without wars. How is it\ +that we women don't want anything of the kind, don't need it? Now you\ +shall judge between us. I always tell him: Here he is Uncle's aide-de-\ +camp, a most brilliant position. He is so well known, so much\ +appreciated by everyone. The other day at the Apraksins' I heard a lady\ +asking, 'Is that the famous Prince Andrew?' I did indeed." She laughed.\ +"He is so well received everywhere. He might easily become aide-de-camp\ +to the Emperor. You know the Emperor spoke to him most graciously.\ +Annette and I were speaking of how to arrange it. What do you think?"\ +\ +Pierre looked at his friend and, noticing that he did not like the\ +conversation, gave no reply.\ +\ +"When are you starting?" he asked.\ +\ +"Oh, don't speak of his going, don't! I won't hear it spoken of," said\ +the princess in the same petulantly playful tone in which she had spoken\ +to Hippolyte in the drawing room and which was so plainly ill-suited to\ +the family circle of which Pierre was almost a member. "Today when I\ +remembered that all these delightful associations must be broken off...\ +and then you know, Andre..." (she looked significantly at her husband)\ +"I'm afraid, I'm afraid!" she whispered, and a shudder ran down her\ +back.\ +\ +Her husband looked at her as if surprised to notice that someone besides\ +Pierre and himself was in the room, and addressed her in a tone of\ +frigid politeness.\ +\ +"What is it you are afraid of, Lise? I don't understand," said he.\ +\ +"There, what egotists men all are: all, all egotists! Just for a whim of\ +his own, goodness only knows why, he leaves me and locks me up alone in\ +the country."\ +\ +"With my father and sister, remember," said Prince Andrew gently.\ +\ +"Alone all the same, without my friends.... And he expects me not to be\ +afraid."\ +\ +Her tone was now querulous and her lip drawn up, giving her not a\ +joyful, but an animal, squirrel-like expression. She paused as if she\ +felt it indecorous to speak of her pregnancy before Pierre, though the\ +gist of the matter lay in that.\ +\ +"I still can't understand what you are afraid of," said Prince Andrew\ +slowly, not taking his eyes off his wife.\ +\ +The princess blushed, and raised her arms with a gesture of despair.\ +\ +"No, Andrew, I must say you have changed. Oh, how you have..."\ +\ +"Your doctor tells you to go to bed earlier," said Prince Andrew. "You\ +had better go."\ +\ +The princess said nothing, but suddenly her short downy lip quivered.\ +Prince Andrew rose, shrugged his shoulders, and walked about the room.\ +\ +Pierre looked over his spectacles with naive surprise, now at him and\ +now at her, moved as if about to rise too, but changed his mind.\ +\ +"Why should I mind Monsieur Pierre being here?" exclaimed the little\ +princess suddenly, her pretty face all at once distorted by a tearful\ +grimace. "I have long wanted to ask you, Andrew, why you have changed so\ +to me? What have I done to you? You are going to the war and have no\ +pity for me. Why is it?"\ +\ +"Lise!" was all Prince Andrew said. But that one word expressed an\ +entreaty, a threat, and above all conviction that she would herself\ +regret her words. But she went on hurriedly:\ +\ +"You treat me like an invalid or a child. I see it all! Did you behave\ +like that six months ago?"\ +\ +"Lise, I beg you to desist," said Prince Andrew still more emphatically.\ +\ +Pierre, who had been growing more and more agitated as he listened to\ +all this, rose and approached the princess. He seemed unable to bear the\ +sight of tears and was ready to cry himself.\ +\ +"Calm yourself, Princess! It seems so to you because... I assure you I\ +myself have experienced... and so... because... No, excuse me! An\ +outsider is out of place here... No, don't distress yourself... Good-\ +bye!"\ +\ +Prince Andrew caught him by the hand.\ +\ +"No, wait, Pierre! The princess is too kind to wish to deprive me of the\ +pleasure of spending the evening with you."\ +\ +"No, he thinks only of himself," muttered the princess without\ +restraining her angry tears.\ +\ +"Lise!" said Prince Andrew dryly, raising his voice to the pitch which\ +indicates that patience is exhausted.\ +\ +Suddenly the angry, squirrel-like expression of the princess' pretty\ +face changed into a winning and piteous look of fear. Her beautiful eyes\ +glanced askance at her husband's face, and her own assumed the timid,\ +deprecating expression of a dog when it rapidly but feebly wags its\ +drooping tail.\ +\ +"Mon Dieu, mon Dieu!" she muttered, and lifting her dress with one hand\ +she went up to her husband and kissed him on the forehead.\ +\ +"Good night, Lise," said he, rising and courteously kissing her hand as\ +he would have done to a stranger.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER VIII\ +\ +The friends were silent. Neither cared to begin talking. Pierre\ +continually glanced at Prince Andrew; Prince Andrew rubbed his forehead\ +with his small hand.\ +\ +"Let us go and have supper," he said with a sigh, going to the door.\ +\ +They entered the elegant, newly decorated, and luxurious dining room.\ +Everything from the table napkins to the silver, china, and glass bore\ +that imprint of newness found in the households of the newly married.\ +Halfway through supper Prince Andrew leaned his elbows on the table and,\ +with a look of nervous agitation such as Pierre had never before seen on\ +his face, began to talk--as one who has long had something on his mind\ +and suddenly determines to speak out.\ +\ +"Never, never marry, my dear fellow! That's my advice: never marry till\ +you can say to yourself that you have done all you are capable of, and\ +until you have ceased to love the woman of your choice and have seen her\ +plainly as she is, or else you will make a cruel and irrevocable\ +mistake. Marry when you are old and good for nothing--or all that is\ +good and noble in you will be lost. It will all be wasted on trifles.\ +Yes! Yes! Yes! Don't look at me with such surprise. If you marry\ +expecting anything from yourself in the future, you will feel at every\ +step that for you all is ended, all is closed except the drawing room,\ +where you will be ranged side by side with a court lackey and an\ +idiot!... But what's the good?..." and he waved his arm.\ +\ +Pierre took off his spectacles, which made his face seem different and\ +the good-natured expression still more apparent, and gazed at his friend\ +in amazement.\ +\ +"My wife," continued Prince Andrew, "is an excellent woman, one of those\ +rare women with whom a man's honor is safe; but, O God, what would I not\ +give now to be unmarried! You are the first and only one to whom I\ +mention this, because I like you."\ +\ +As he said this Prince Andrew was less than ever like that Bolkonski who\ +had lolled in Anna Pavlovna's easy chairs and with half-closed eyes had\ +uttered French phrases between his teeth. Every muscle of his thin face\ +was now quivering with nervous excitement; his eyes, in which the fire\ +of life had seemed extinguished, now flashed with brilliant light. It\ +was evident that the more lifeless he seemed at ordinary times, the more\ +impassioned he became in these moments of almost morbid irritation.\ +\ +"You don't understand why I say this," he continued, "but it is the\ +whole story of life. You talk of Bonaparte and his career," said he\ +(though Pierre had not mentioned Bonaparte), "but Bonaparte when he\ +worked went step by step toward his goal. He was free, he had nothing\ +but his aim to consider, and he reached it. But tie yourself up with a\ +woman and, like a chained convict, you lose all freedom! And all you\ +have of hope and strength merely weighs you down and torments you with\ +regret. Drawing rooms, gossip, balls, vanity, and triviality--these are\ +the enchanted circle I cannot escape from. I am now going to the war,\ +the greatest war there ever was, and I know nothing and am fit for\ +nothing. I am very amiable and have a caustic wit," continued Prince\ +Andrew, "and at Anna Pavlovna's they listen to me. And that stupid set\ +without whom my wife cannot exist, and those women... If you only knew\ +what those society women are, and women in general! My father is right.\ +Selfish, vain, stupid, trivial in everything--that's what women are when\ +you see them in their true colors! When you meet them in society it\ +seems as if there were something in them, but there's nothing, nothing,\ +nothing! No, don't marry, my dear fellow; don't marry!" concluded Prince\ +Andrew.\ +\ +"It seems funny to me," said Pierre, "that you, you should consider\ +yourself incapable and your life a spoiled life. You have everything\ +before you, everything. And you..."\ +\ +He did not finish his sentence, but his tone showed how highly he\ +thought of his friend and how much he expected of him in the future.\ +\ +"How can he talk like that?" thought Pierre. He considered his friend a\ +model of perfection because Prince Andrew possessed in the highest\ +degree just the very qualities Pierre lacked, and which might be best\ +described as strength of will. Pierre was always astonished at Prince\ +Andrew's calm manner of treating everybody, his extraordinary memory,\ +his extensive reading (he had read everything, knew everything, and had\ +an opinion about everything), but above all at his capacity for work and\ +study. And if Pierre was often struck by Andrew's lack of capacity for\ +philosophical meditation (to which he himself was particularly\ +addicted), he regarded even this not as a defect but as a sign of\ +strength.\ +\ +Even in the best, most friendly and simplest relations of life, praise\ +and commendation are essential, just as grease is necessary to wheels\ +that they may run smoothly.\ +\ +"My part is played out," said Prince Andrew. "What's the use of talking\ +about me? Let us talk about you," he added after a silence, smiling at\ +his reassuring thoughts.\ +\ +That smile was immediately reflected on Pierre's face.\ +\ +"But what is there to say about me?" said Pierre, his face relaxing into\ +a careless, merry smile. "What am I? An illegitimate son!" He suddenly\ +blushed crimson, and it was plain that he had made a great effort to say\ +this. "Without a name and without means... And it really..." But he did\ +not say what "it really" was. "For the present I am free and am all\ +right. Only I haven't the least idea what I am to do; I wanted to\ +consult you seriously."\ +\ +Prince Andrew looked kindly at him, yet his glance--friendly and\ +affectionate as it was--expressed a sense of his own superiority.\ +\ +"I am fond of you, especially as you are the one live man among our\ +whole set. Yes, you're all right! Choose what you will; it's all the\ +same. You'll be all right anywhere. But look here: give up visiting\ +those Kuragins and leading that sort of life. It suits you so badly--all\ +this debauchery, dissipation, and the rest of it!"\ +\ +"What would you have, my dear fellow?" answered Pierre, shrugging his\ +shoulders. "Women, my dear fellow; women!"\ +\ +"I don't understand it," replied Prince Andrew. "Women who are comme il\ +faut, that's a different matter; but the Kuragins' set of women, 'women\ +and wine' I don't understand!"\ +\ +Pierre was staying at Prince Vasili Kuragin's and sharing the dissipated\ +life of his son Anatole, the son whom they were planning to reform by\ +marrying him to Prince Andrew's sister.\ +\ +"Do you know?" said Pierre, as if suddenly struck by a happy thought,\ +"seriously, I have long been thinking of it.... Leading such a life I\ +can't decide or think properly about anything. One's head aches, and one\ +spends all one's money. He asked me for tonight, but I won't go."\ +\ +"You give me your word of honor not to go?"\ +\ +"On my honor!"\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER IX\ +\ +It was past one o'clock when Pierre left his friend. It was a cloudless,\ +northern, summer night. Pierre took an open cab intending to drive\ +straight home. But the nearer he drew to the house the more he felt the\ +impossibility of going to sleep on such a night. It was light enough to\ +see a long way in the deserted street and it seemed more like morning or\ +evening than night. On the way Pierre remembered that Anatole Kuragin\ +was expecting the usual set for cards that evening, after which there\ +was generally a drinking bout, finishing with visits of a kind Pierre\ +was very fond of.\ +\ +"I should like to go to Kuragin's," thought he.\ +\ +But he immediately recalled his promise to Prince Andrew not to go\ +there. Then, as happens to people of weak character, he desired so\ +passionately once more to enjoy that dissipation he was so accustomed to\ +that he decided to go. The thought immediately occurred to him that his\ +promise to Prince Andrew was of no account, because before he gave it he\ +had already promised Prince Anatole to come to his gathering; "besides,"\ +thought he, "all such 'words of honor' are conventional things with no\ +definite meaning, especially if one considers that by tomorrow one may\ +be dead, or something so extraordinary may happen to one that honor and\ +dishonor will be all the same!" Pierre often indulged in reflections of\ +this sort, nullifying all his decisions and intentions. He went to\ +Kuragin's.\ +\ +Reaching the large house near the Horse Guards' barracks, in which\ +Anatole lived, Pierre entered the lighted porch, ascended the stairs,\ +and went in at the open door. There was no one in the anteroom; empty\ +bottles, cloaks, and overshoes were lying about; there was a smell of\ +alcohol, and sounds of voices and shouting in the distance.\ +\ +Cards and supper were over, but the visitors had not yet dispersed.\ +Pierre threw off his cloak and entered the first room, in which were the\ +remains of supper. A footman, thinking no one saw him, was drinking on\ +the sly what was left in the glasses. From the third room came sounds of\ +laughter, the shouting of familiar voices, the growling of a bear, and\ +general commotion. Some eight or nine young men were crowding anxiously\ +round an open window. Three others were romping with a young bear, one\ +pulling him by the chain and trying to set him at the others.\ +\ +"I bet a hundred on Stevens!" shouted one.\ +\ +"Mind, no holding on!" cried another.\ +\ +"I bet on Dolokhov!" cried a third. "Kuragin, you part our hands."\ +\ +"There, leave Bruin alone; here's a bet on."\ +\ +"At one draught, or he loses!" shouted a fourth.\ +\ +"Jacob, bring a bottle!" shouted the host, a tall, handsome fellow who\ +stood in the midst of the group, without a coat, and with his fine linen\ +shirt unfastened in front. "Wait a bit, you fellows.... Here is Petya!\ +Good man!" cried he, addressing Pierre.\ +\ +Another voice, from a man of medium height with clear blue eyes,\ +particularly striking among all these drunken voices by its sober ring,\ +cried from the window: "Come here; part the bets!" This was Dolokhov, an\ +officer of the Semenov regiment, a notorious gambler and duelist, who\ +was living with Anatole. Pierre smiled, looking about him merrily.\ +\ +"I don't understand. What's it all about?"\ +\ +"Wait a bit, he is not drunk yet! A bottle here," said Anatole, taking a\ +glass from the table he went up to Pierre.\ +\ +"First of all you must drink!"\ +\ +Pierre drank one glass after another, looking from under his brows at\ +the tipsy guests who were again crowding round the window, and listening\ +to their chatter. Anatole kept on refilling Pierre's glass while\ +explaining that Dolokhov was betting with Stevens, an English naval\ +officer, that he would drink a bottle of rum sitting on the outer ledge\ +of the third floor window with his legs hanging out.\ +\ +"Go on, you must drink it all," said Anatole, giving Pierre the last\ +glass, "or I won't let you go!"\ +\ +"No, I won't," said Pierre, pushing Anatole aside, and he went up to the\ +window.\ +\ +Dolokhov was holding the Englishman's hand and clearly and distinctly\ +repeating the terms of the bet, addressing himself particularly to\ +Anatole and Pierre.\ +\ +Dolokhov was of medium height, with curly hair and light-blue eyes. He\ +was about twenty-five. Like all infantry officers he wore no mustache,\ +so that his mouth, the most striking feature of his face, was clearly\ +seen. The lines of that mouth were remarkably finely curved. The middle\ +of the upper lip formed a sharp wedge and closed firmly on the firm\ +lower one, and something like two distinct smiles played continually\ +round the two corners of the mouth; this, together with the resolute,\ +insolent intelligence of his eyes, produced an effect which made it\ +impossible not to notice his face. Dolokhov was a man of small means and\ +no connections. Yet, though Anatole spent tens of thousands of rubles,\ +Dolokhov lived with him and had placed himself on such a footing that\ +all who knew them, including Anatole himself, respected him more than\ +they did Anatole. Dolokhov could play all games and nearly always won.\ +However much he drank, he never lost his clearheadedness. Both Kuragin\ +and Dolokhov were at that time notorious among the rakes and scapegraces\ +of Petersburg.\ +\ +The bottle of rum was brought. The window frame which prevented anyone\ +from sitting on the outer sill was being forced out by two footmen, who\ +were evidently flurried and intimidated by the directions and shouts of\ +the gentlemen around.\ +\ +Anatole with his swaggering air strode up to the window. He wanted to\ +smash something. Pushing away the footmen he tugged at the frame, but\ +could not move it. He smashed a pane.\ +\ +"You have a try, Hercules," said he, turning to Pierre.\ +\ +Pierre seized the crossbeam, tugged, and wrenched the oak frame out with\ +a crash.\ +\ +"Take it right out, or they'll think I'm holding on," said Dolokhov.\ +\ +"Is the Englishman bragging?... Eh? Is it all right?" said Anatole.\ +\ +"First-rate," said Pierre, looking at Dolokhov, who with a bottle of rum\ +in his hand was approaching the window, from which the light of the sky,\ +the dawn merging with the afterglow of sunset, was visible.\ +\ +Dolokhov, the bottle of rum still in his hand, jumped onto the window\ +sill. "Listen!" cried he, standing there and addressing those in the\ +room. All were silent.\ +\ +"I bet fifty imperials"--he spoke French that the Englishman might\ +understand him, but he did not speak it very well--"I bet fifty\ +imperials... or do you wish to make it a hundred?" added he, addressing\ +the Englishman.\ +\ +"No, fifty," replied the latter.\ +\ +"All right. Fifty imperials... that I will drink a whole bottle of rum\ +without taking it from my mouth, sitting outside the window on this\ +spot" (he stooped and pointed to the sloping ledge outside the window)\ +"and without holding on to anything. Is that right?"\ +\ +"Quite right," said the Englishman.\ +\ +Anatole turned to the Englishman and taking him by one of the buttons of\ +his coat and looking down at him--the Englishman was short--began\ +repeating the terms of the wager to him in English.\ +\ +"Wait!" cried Dolokhov, hammering with the bottle on the window sill to\ +attract attention. "Wait a bit, Kuragin. Listen! If anyone else does the\ +same, I will pay him a hundred imperials. Do you understand?"\ +\ +The Englishman nodded, but gave no indication whether he intended to\ +accept this challenge or not. Anatole did not release him, and though he\ +kept nodding to show that he understood, Anatole went on translating\ +Dolokhov's words into English. A thin young lad, an hussar of the Life\ +Guards, who had been losing that evening, climbed on the window sill,\ +leaned over, and looked down.\ +\ +"Oh! Oh! Oh!" he muttered, looking down from the window at the stones of\ +the pavement.\ +\ +"Shut up!" cried Dolokhov, pushing him away from the window. The lad\ +jumped awkwardly back into the room, tripping over his spurs.\ +\ +Placing the bottle on the window sill where he could reach it easily,\ +Dolokhov climbed carefully and slowly through the window and lowered his\ +legs. Pressing against both sides of the window, he adjusted himself on\ +his seat, lowered his hands, moved a little to the right and then to the\ +left, and took up the bottle. Anatole brought two candles and placed\ +them on the window sill, though it was already quite light. Dolokhov's\ +back in his white shirt, and his curly head, were lit up from both\ +sides. Everyone crowded to the window, the Englishman in front. Pierre\ +stood smiling but silent. One man, older than the others present,\ +suddenly pushed forward with a scared and angry look and wanted to seize\ +hold of Dolokhov's shirt.\ +\ +"I say, this is folly! He'll be killed," said this more sensible man.\ +\ +Anatole stopped him.\ +\ +"Don't touch him! You'll startle him and then he'll be killed. Eh?...\ +What then?... Eh?"\ +\ +Dolokhov turned round and, again holding on with both hands, arranged\ +himself on his seat.\ +\ +"If anyone comes meddling again," said he, emitting the words separately\ +through his thin compressed lips, "I will throw him down there. Now\ +then!"\ +\ +Saying this he again turned round, dropped his hands, took the bottle\ +and lifted it to his lips, threw back his head, and raised his free hand\ +to balance himself. One of the footmen who had stooped to pick up some\ +broken glass remained in that position without taking his eyes from the\ +window and from Dolokhov's back. Anatole stood erect with staring eyes.\ +The Englishman looked on sideways, pursing up his lips. The man who had\ +wished to stop the affair ran to a corner of the room and threw himself\ +on a sofa with his face to the wall. Pierre hid his face, from which a\ +faint smile forgot to fade though his features now expressed horror and\ +fear. All were still. Pierre took his hands from his eyes. Dolokhov\ +still sat in the same position, only his head was thrown further back\ +till his curly hair touched his shirt collar, and the hand holding the\ +bottle was lifted higher and higher and trembled with the effort. The\ +bottle was emptying perceptibly and rising still higher and his head\ +tilting yet further back. "Why is it so long?" thought Pierre. It seemed\ +to him that more than half an hour had elapsed. Suddenly Dolokhov made a\ +backward movement with his spine, and his arm trembled nervously; this\ +was sufficient to cause his whole body to slip as he sat on the sloping\ +ledge. As he began slipping down, his head and arm wavered still more\ +with the strain. One hand moved as if to clutch the window sill, but\ +refrained from touching it. Pierre again covered his eyes and thought he\ +would never open them again. Suddenly he was aware of a stir all around.\ +He looked up: Dolokhov was standing on the window sill, with a pale but\ +radiant face.\ +\ +"It's empty."\ +\ +He threw the bottle to the Englishman, who caught it neatly. Dolokhov\ +jumped down. He smelt strongly of rum.\ +\ +"Well done!... Fine fellow!... There's a bet for you!... Devil take\ +you!" came from different sides.\ +\ +The Englishman took out his purse and began counting out the money.\ +Dolokhov stood frowning and did not speak. Pierre jumped upon the window\ +sill.\ +\ +"Gentlemen, who wishes to bet with me? I'll do the same thing!" he\ +suddenly cried. "Even without a bet, there! Tell them to bring me a\ +bottle. I'll do it.... Bring a bottle!"\ +\ +"Let him do it, let him do it," said Dolokhov, smiling.\ +\ +"What next? Have you gone mad?... No one would let you!... Why, you go\ +giddy even on a staircase," exclaimed several voices.\ +\ +"I'll drink it! Let's have a bottle of rum!" shouted Pierre, banging the\ +table with a determined and drunken gesture and preparing to climb out\ +of the window.\ +\ +They seized him by his arms; but he was so strong that everyone who\ +touched him was sent flying.\ +\ +"No, you'll never manage him that way," said Anatole. "Wait a bit and\ +I'll get round him.... Listen! I'll take your bet tomorrow, but now we\ +are all going to ----'s."\ +\ +"Come on then," cried Pierre. "Come on!... And we'll take Bruin with\ +us."\ +\ +And he caught the bear, took it in his arms, lifted it from the ground,\ +and began dancing round the room with it.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER X\ +\ +Prince Vasili kept the promise he had given to Princess Drubetskaya who\ +had spoken to him on behalf of her only son Boris on the evening of Anna\ +Pavlovna's soiree. The matter was mentioned to the Emperor, an exception\ +made, and Boris transferred into the regiment of Semenov Guards with the\ +rank of cornet. He received, however, no appointment to Kutuzov's staff\ +despite all Anna Mikhaylovna's endeavors and entreaties. Soon after Anna\ +Pavlovna's reception Anna Mikhaylovna returned to Moscow and went\ +straight to her rich relations, the Rostovs, with whom she stayed when\ +in the town and where her darling Bory, who had only just entered a\ +regiment of the line and was being at once transferred to the Guards as\ +a cornet, had been educated from childhood and lived for years at a\ +time. The Guards had already left Petersburg on the tenth of August, and\ +her son, who had remained in Moscow for his equipment, was to join them\ +on the march to Radzivilov.\ +\ +It was St. Natalia's day and the name day of two of the Rostovs--the\ +mother and the youngest daughter--both named Nataly. Ever since the\ +morning, carriages with six horses had been coming and going\ +continually, bringing visitors to the Countess Rostova's big house on\ +the Povarskaya, so well known to all Moscow. The countess herself and\ +her handsome eldest daughter were in the drawing-room with the visitors\ +who came to congratulate, and who constantly succeeded one another in\ +relays.\ +\ +The countess was a woman of about forty-five, with a thin Oriental type\ +of face, evidently worn out with childbearing--she had had twelve. A\ +languor of motion and speech, resulting from weakness, gave her a\ +distinguished air which inspired respect. Princess Anna Mikhaylovna\ +Drubetskaya, who as a member of the household was also seated in the\ +drawing room, helped to receive and entertain the visitors. The young\ +people were in one of the inner rooms, not considering it necessary to\ +take part in receiving the visitors. The count met the guests and saw\ +them off, inviting them all to dinner.\ +\ +"I am very, very grateful to you, mon cher," or "ma chere"--he called\ +everyone without exception and without the slightest variation in his\ +tone, "my dear," whether they were above or below him in rank--"I thank\ +you for myself and for our two dear ones whose name day we are keeping.\ +But mind you come to dinner or I shall be offended, ma chere! On behalf\ +of the whole family I beg you to come, mon cher!" These words he\ +repeated to everyone without exception or variation, and with the same\ +expression on his full, cheerful, clean-shaven face, the same firm\ +pressure of the hand and the same quick, repeated bows. As soon as he\ +had seen a visitor off he returned to one of those who were still in the\ +drawing room, drew a chair toward him or her, and jauntily spreading out\ +his legs and putting his hands on his knees with the air of a man who\ +enjoys life and knows how to live, he swayed to and fro with dignity,\ +offered surmises about the weather, or touched on questions of health,\ +sometimes in Russian and sometimes in very bad but self-confident\ +French; then again, like a man weary but unflinching in the fulfillment\ +of duty, he rose to see some visitors off and, stroking his scanty gray\ +hairs over his bald patch, also asked them to dinner. Sometimes on his\ +way back from the anteroom he would pass through the conservatory and\ +pantry into the large marble dining hall, where tables were being set\ +out for eighty people; and looking at the footmen, who were bringing in\ +silver and china, moving tables, and unfolding damask table linen, he\ +would call Dmitri Vasilevich, a man of good family and the manager of\ +all his affairs, and while looking with pleasure at the enormous table\ +would say: "Well, Dmitri, you'll see that things are all as they should\ +be? That's right! The great thing is the serving, that's it." And with a\ +complacent sigh he would return to the drawing room.\ +\ +"Marya Lvovna Karagina and her daughter!" announced the countess'\ +gigantic footman in his bass voice, entering the drawing room. The\ +countess reflected a moment and took a pinch from a gold snuffbox with\ +her husband's portrait on it.\ +\ +"I'm quite worn out by these callers. However, I'll see her and no more.\ +She is so affected. Ask her in," she said to the footman in a sad voice,\ +as if saying: "Very well, finish me off."\ +\ +A tall, stout, and proud-looking woman, with a round-faced smiling\ +daughter, entered the drawing room, their dresses rustling.\ +\ +"Dear Countess, what an age... She has been laid up, poor child... at\ +the Razumovski's ball... and Countess Apraksina... I was so\ +delighted..." came the sounds of animated feminine voices, interrupting\ +one another and mingling with the rustling of dresses and the scraping\ +of chairs. Then one of those conversations began which last out until,\ +at the first pause, the guests rise with a rustle of dresses and say, "I\ +am so delighted... Mamma's health... and Countess Apraksina..." and\ +then, again rustling, pass into the anteroom, put on cloaks or mantles,\ +and drive away. The conversation was on the chief topic of the day: the\ +illness of the wealthy and celebrated beau of Catherine's day, Count\ +Bezukhov, and about his illegitimate son Pierre, the one who had behaved\ +so improperly at Anna Pavlovna's reception.\ +\ +"I am so sorry for the poor count," said the visitor. "He is in such bad\ +health, and now this vexation about his son is enough to kill him!"\ +\ +"What is that?" asked the countess as if she did not know what the\ +visitor alluded to, though she had already heard about the cause of\ +Count Bezukhov's distress some fifteen times.\ +\ +"That's what comes of a modern education," exclaimed the visitor. "It\ +seems that while he was abroad this young man was allowed to do as he\ +liked, now in Petersburg I hear he has been doing such terrible things\ +that he has been expelled by the police."\ +\ +"You don't say so!" replied the countess.\ +\ +"He chose his friends badly," interposed Anna Mikhaylovna. "Prince\ +Vasili's son, he, and a certain Dolokhov have, it is said, been up to\ +heaven only knows what! And they have had to suffer for it. Dolokhov has\ +been degraded to the ranks and Bezukhov's son sent back to Moscow.\ +Anatole Kuragin's father managed somehow to get his son's affair hushed\ +up, but even he was ordered out of Petersburg."\ +\ +"But what have they been up to?" asked the countess.\ +\ +"They are regular brigands, especially Dolokhov," replied the visitor.\ +"He is a son of Marya Ivanovna Dolokhova, such a worthy woman, but\ +there, just fancy! Those three got hold of a bear somewhere, put it in a\ +carriage, and set off with it to visit some actresses! The police tried\ +to interfere, and what did the young men do? They tied a policeman and\ +the bear back to back and put the bear into the Moyka Canal. And there\ +was the bear swimming about with the policeman on his back!"\ +\ +"What a nice figure the policeman must have cut, my dear!" shouted the\ +count, dying with laughter.\ +\ +"Oh, how dreadful! How can you laugh at it, Count?"\ +\ +Yet the ladies themselves could not help laughing.\ +\ +"It was all they could do to rescue the poor man," continued the\ +visitor. "And to think it is Cyril Vladimirovich Bezukhov's son who\ +amuses himself in this sensible manner! And he was said to be so well\ +educated and clever. This is all that his foreign education has done for\ +him! I hope that here in Moscow no one will receive him, in spite of his\ +money. They wanted to introduce him to me, but I quite declined: I have\ +my daughters to consider."\ +\ +"Why do you say this young man is so rich?" asked the countess, turning\ +away from the girls, who at once assumed an air of inattention. "His\ +children are all illegitimate. I think Pierre also is illegitimate."\ +\ +The visitor made a gesture with her hand.\ +\ +"I should think he has a score of them."\ +\ +Princess Anna Mikhaylovna intervened in the conversation, evidently\ +wishing to show her connections and knowledge of what went on in\ +society.\ +\ +"The fact of the matter is," said she significantly, and also in a half\ +whisper, "everyone knows Count Cyril's reputation.... He has lost count\ +of his children, but this Pierre was his favorite."\ +\ +"How handsome the old man still was only a year ago!" remarked the\ +countess. "I have never seen a handsomer man."\ +\ +"He is very much altered now," said Anna Mikhaylovna. "Well, as I was\ +saying, Prince Vasili is the next heir through his wife, but the count\ +is very fond of Pierre, looked after his education, and wrote to the\ +Emperor about him; so that in the case of his death--and he is so ill\ +that he may die at any moment, and Dr. Lorrain has come from Petersburg-\ +-no one knows who will inherit his immense fortune, Pierre or Prince\ +Vasili. Forty thousand serfs and millions of rubles! I know it all very\ +well for Prince Vasili told me himself. Besides, Cyril Vladimirovich is\ +my mother's second cousin. He's also my Bory's godfather," she added, as\ +if she attached no importance at all to the fact.\ +\ +"Prince Vasili arrived in Moscow yesterday. I hear he has come on some\ +inspection business," remarked the visitor.\ +\ +"Yes, but between ourselves," said the princess, "that is a pretext. The\ +fact is he has come to see Count Cyril Vladimirovich, hearing how ill he\ +is."\ +\ +"But do you know, my dear, that was a capital joke," said the count; and\ +seeing that the elder visitor was not listening, he turned to the young\ +ladies. "I can just imagine what a funny figure that policeman cut!"\ +\ +And as he waved his arms to impersonate the policeman, his portly form\ +again shook with a deep ringing laugh, the laugh of one who always eats\ +well and, in particular, drinks well. "So do come and dine with us!" he\ +said.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XI\ +\ +Silence ensued. The countess looked at her callers, smiling affably, but\ +not concealing the fact that she would not be distressed if they now\ +rose and took their leave. The visitor's daughter was already smoothing\ +down her dress with an inquiring look at her mother, when suddenly from\ +the next room were heard the footsteps of boys and girls running to the\ +door and the noise of a chair falling over, and a girl of thirteen,\ +hiding something in the folds of her short muslin frock, darted in and\ +stopped short in the middle of the room. It was evident that she had not\ +intended her flight to bring her so far. Behind her in the doorway\ +appeared a student with a crimson coat collar, an officer of the Guards,\ +a girl of fifteen, and a plump rosy-faced boy in a short jacket.\ +\ +The count jumped up and, swaying from side to side, spread his arms wide\ +and threw them round the little girl who had run in.\ +\ +"Ah, here she is!" he exclaimed laughing. "My pet, whose name day it is.\ +My dear pet!"\ +\ +"Ma chere, there is a time for everything," said the countess with\ +feigned severity. "You spoil her, Ilya," she added, turning to her\ +husband.\ +\ +"How do you do, my dear? I wish you many happy returns of your name\ +day," said the visitor. "What a charming child," she added, addressing\ +the mother.\ +\ +This black-eyed, wide-mouthed girl, not pretty but full of life--with\ +childish bare shoulders which after her run heaved and shook her bodice,\ +with black curls tossed backward, thin bare arms, little legs in lace-\ +frilled drawers, and feet in low slippers--was just at that charming age\ +when a girl is no longer a child, though the child is not yet a young\ +woman. Escaping from her father she ran to hide her flushed face in the\ +lace of her mother's mantilla--not paying the least attention to her\ +severe remark--and began to laugh. She laughed, and in fragmentary\ +sentences tried to explain about a doll which she produced from the\ +folds of her frock.\ +\ +"Do you see?... My doll... Mimi... You see..." was all Natasha managed\ +to utter (to her everything seemed funny). She leaned against her mother\ +and burst into such a loud, ringing fit of laughter that even the prim\ +visitor could not help joining in.\ +\ +"Now then, go away and take your monstrosity with you," said the mother,\ +pushing away her daughter with pretended sternness, and turning to the\ +visitor she added: "She is my youngest girl."\ +\ +Natasha, raising her face for a moment from her mother's mantilla,\ +glanced up at her through tears of laughter, and again hid her face.\ +\ +The visitor, compelled to look on at this family scene, thought it\ +necessary to take some part in it.\ +\ +"Tell me, my dear," said she to Natasha, "is Mimi a relation of yours? A\ +daughter, I suppose?"\ +\ +Natasha did not like the visitor's tone of condescension to childish\ +things. She did not reply, but looked at her seriously.\ +\ +Meanwhile the younger generation: Boris, the officer, Anna Mikhaylovna's\ +son; Nicholas, the undergraduate, the count's eldest son; Sonya, the\ +count's fifteen-year-old niece, and little Petya, his youngest boy, had\ +all settled down in the drawing room and were obviously trying to\ +restrain within the bounds of decorum the excitement and mirth that\ +shone in all their faces. Evidently in the back rooms, from which they\ +had dashed out so impetuously, the conversation had been more amusing\ +than the drawing-room talk of society scandals, the weather, and\ +Countess Apraksina. Now and then they glanced at one another, hardly\ +able to suppress their laughter.\ +\ +The two young men, the student and the officer, friends from childhood,\ +were of the same age and both handsome fellows, though not alike. Boris\ +was tall and fair, and his calm and handsome face had regular, delicate\ +features. Nicholas was short with curly hair and an open expression.\ +Dark hairs were already showing on his upper lip, and his whole face\ +expressed impetuosity and enthusiasm. Nicholas blushed when he entered\ +the drawing room. He evidently tried to find something to say, but\ +failed. Boris on the contrary at once found his footing, and related\ +quietly and humorously how he had known that doll Mimi when she was\ +still quite a young lady, before her nose was broken; how she had aged\ +during the five years he had known her, and how her head had cracked\ +right across the skull. Having said this he glanced at Natasha. She\ +turned away from him and glanced at her younger brother, who was\ +screwing up his eyes and shaking with suppressed laughter, and unable to\ +control herself any longer, she jumped up and rushed from the room as\ +fast as her nimble little feet would carry her. Boris did not laugh.\ +\ +"You were meaning to go out, weren't you, Mamma? Do you want the\ +carriage?" he asked his mother with a smile.\ +\ +"Yes, yes, go and tell them to get it ready," she answered, returning\ +his smile.\ +\ +Boris quietly left the room and went in search of Natasha. The plump boy\ +ran after them angrily, as if vexed that their program had been\ +disturbed.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XII\ +\ +The only young people remaining in the drawing room, not counting the\ +young lady visitor and the countess' eldest daughter (who was four years\ +older than her sister and behaved already like a grown-up person), were\ +Nicholas and Sonya, the niece. Sonya was a slender little brunette with\ +a tender look in her eyes which were veiled by long lashes, thick black\ +plaits coiling twice round her head, and a tawny tint in her complexion\ +and especially in the color of her slender but graceful and muscular\ +arms and neck. By the grace of her movements, by the softness and\ +flexibility of her small limbs, and by a certain coyness and reserve of\ +manner, she reminded one of a pretty, half-grown kitten which promises\ +to become a beautiful little cat. She evidently considered it proper to\ +show an interest in the general conversation by smiling, but in spite of\ +herself her eyes under their thick long lashes watched her cousin who\ +was going to join the army, with such passionate girlish adoration that\ +her smile could not for a single instant impose upon anyone, and it was\ +clear that the kitten had settled down only to spring up with more\ +energy and again play with her cousin as soon as they too could, like\ +Natasha and Boris, escape from the drawing room.\ +\ +"Ah yes, my dear," said the count, addressing the visitor and pointing\ +to Nicholas, "his friend Boris has become an officer, and so for\ +friendship's sake he is leaving the university and me, his old father,\ +and entering the military service, my dear. And there was a place and\ +everything waiting for him in the Archives Department! Isn't that\ +friendship?" remarked the count in an inquiring tone.\ +\ +"But they say that war has been declared," replied the visitor.\ +\ +"They've been saying so a long while," said the count, "and they'll say\ +so again and again, and that will be the end of it. My dear, there's\ +friendship for you," he repeated. "He's joining the hussars."\ +\ +The visitor, not knowing what to say, shook her head.\ +\ +"It's not at all from friendship," declared Nicholas, flaring up and\ +turning away as if from a shameful aspersion. "It is not from friendship\ +at all; I simply feel that the army is my vocation."\ +\ +He glanced at his cousin and the young lady visitor; and they were both\ +regarding him with a smile of approbation.\ +\ +"Schubert, the colonel of the Pavlograd Hussars, is dining with us\ +today. He has been here on leave and is taking Nicholas back with him.\ +It can't be helped!" said the count, shrugging his shoulders and\ +speaking playfully of a matter that evidently distressed him.\ +\ +"I have already told you, Papa," said his son, "that if you don't wish\ +to let me go, I'll stay. But I know I am no use anywhere except in the\ +army; I am not a diplomat or a government clerk.--I don't know how to\ +hide what I feel." As he spoke he kept glancing with the flirtatiousness\ +of a handsome youth at Sonya and the young lady visitor.\ +\ +The little kitten, feasting her eyes on him, seemed ready at any moment\ +to start her gambols again and display her kittenish nature.\ +\ +"All right, all right!" said the old count. "He always flares up! This\ +Buonaparte has turned all their heads; they all think of how he rose\ +from an ensign and became Emperor. Well, well, God grant it," he added,\ +not noticing his visitor's sarcastic smile.\ +\ +The elders began talking about Bonaparte. Julie Karagina turned to young\ +Rostov.\ +\ +"What a pity you weren't at the Arkharovs' on Thursday. It was so dull\ +without you," said she, giving him a tender smile.\ +\ +The young man, flattered, sat down nearer to her with a coquettish\ +smile, and engaged the smiling Julie in a confidential conversation\ +without at all noticing that his involuntary smile had stabbed the heart\ +of Sonya, who blushed and smiled unnaturally. In the midst of his talk\ +he glanced round at her. She gave him a passionately angry glance, and\ +hardly able to restrain her tears and maintain the artificial smile on\ +her lips, she got up and left the room. All Nicholas' animation\ +vanished. He waited for the first pause in the conversation, and then\ +with a distressed face left the room to find Sonya.\ +\ +"How plainly all these young people wear their hearts on their sleeves!"\ +said Anna Mikhaylovna, pointing to Nicholas as he went out. "Cousinage--\ +dangereux voisinage;" * she added.\ +\ +\ +* Cousinhood is a dangerous neighborhood.\ +\ +"Yes," said the countess when the brightness these young people had\ +brought into the room had vanished; and as if answering a question no\ +one had put but which was always in her mind, "and how much suffering,\ +how much anxiety one has had to go through that we might rejoice in them\ +now! And yet really the anxiety is greater now than the joy. One is\ +always, always anxious! Especially just at this age, so dangerous both\ +for girls and boys."\ +\ +"It all depends on the bringing up," remarked the visitor.\ +\ +"Yes, you're quite right," continued the countess. "Till now I have\ +always, thank God, been my children's friend and had their full\ +confidence," said she, repeating the mistake of so many parents who\ +imagine that their children have no secrets from them. "I know I shall\ +always be my daughters' first confidante, and that if Nicholas, with his\ +impulsive nature, does get into mischief (a boy can't help it), he will\ +all the same never be like those Petersburg young men."\ +\ +"Yes, they are splendid, splendid youngsters," chimed in the count, who\ +always solved questions that seemed to him perplexing by deciding that\ +everything was splendid. "Just fancy: wants to be an hussar. What's one\ +to do, my dear?"\ +\ +"What a charming creature your younger girl is," said the visitor; "a\ +little volcano!"\ +\ +"Yes, a regular volcano," said the count. "Takes after me! And what a\ +voice she has; though she's my daughter, I tell the truth when I say\ +she'll be a singer, a second Salomoni! We have engaged an Italian to\ +give her lessons."\ +\ +"Isn't she too young? I have heard that it harms the voice to train it\ +at that age."\ +\ +"Oh no, not at all too young!" replied the count. "Why, our mothers used\ +to be married at twelve or thirteen."\ +\ +"And she's in love with Boris already. Just fancy!" said the countess\ +with a gentle smile, looking at Boris and went on, evidently concerned\ +with a thought that always occupied her: "Now you see if I were to be\ +severe with her and to forbid it... goodness knows what they might be up\ +to on the sly" (she meant that they would be kissing), "but as it is, I\ +know every word she utters. She will come running to me of her own\ +accord in the evening and tell me everything. Perhaps I spoil her, but\ +really that seems the best plan. With her elder sister I was stricter."\ +\ +"Yes, I was brought up quite differently," remarked the handsome elder\ +daughter, Countess Vera, with a smile.\ +\ +But the smile did not enhance Vera's beauty as smiles generally do; on\ +the contrary it gave her an unnatural, and therefore unpleasant,\ +expression. Vera was good-looking, not at all stupid, quick at learning,\ +was well-brought up, and had a pleasant voice; what she said was true\ +and appropriate, yet, strange to say, everyone--the visitors and\ +countess alike--turned to look at her as if wondering why she had said\ +it, and they all felt awkward.\ +\ +"People are always too clever with their eldest children and try to make\ +something exceptional of them," said the visitor.\ +\ +"What's the good of denying it, my dear? Our dear countess was too\ +clever with Vera," said the count. "Well, what of that? She's turned out\ +splendidly all the same," he added, winking at Vera.\ +\ +The guests got up and took their leave, promising to return to dinner.\ +\ +"What manners! I thought they would never go," said the countess, when\ +she had seen her guests out.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XIII\ +\ +When Natasha ran out of the drawing room she only went as far as the\ +conservatory. There she paused and stood listening to the conversation\ +in the drawing room, waiting for Boris to come out. She was already\ +growing impatient, and stamped her foot, ready to cry at his not coming\ +at once, when she heard the young man's discreet steps approaching\ +neither quickly nor slowly. At this Natasha dashed swiftly among the\ +flower tubs and hid there.\ +\ +Boris paused in the middle of the room, looked round, brushed a little\ +dust from the sleeve of his uniform, and going up to a mirror examined\ +his handsome face. Natasha, very still, peered out from her ambush,\ +waiting to see what he would do. He stood a little while before the\ +glass, smiled, and walked toward the other door. Natasha was about to\ +call him but changed her mind. "Let him look for me," thought she.\ +Hardly had Boris gone than Sonya, flushed, in tears, and muttering\ +angrily, came in at the other door. Natasha checked her first impulse to\ +run out to her, and remained in her hiding place, watching--as under an\ +invisible cap--to see what went on in the world. She was experiencing a\ +new and peculiar pleasure. Sonya, muttering to herself, kept looking\ +round toward the drawing-room door. It opened and Nicholas came in.\ +\ +"Sonya, what is the matter with you? How can you?" said he, running up\ +to her.\ +\ +"It's nothing, nothing; leave me alone!" sobbed Sonya.\ +\ +"Ah, I know what it is."\ +\ +"Well, if you do, so much the better, and you can go back to her!"\ +\ +"So-o-onya! Look here! How can you torture me and yourself like that,\ +for a mere fancy?" said Nicholas taking her hand.\ +\ +Sonya did not pull it away, and left off crying. Natasha, not stirring\ +and scarcely breathing, watched from her ambush with sparkling eyes.\ +"What will happen now?" thought she.\ +\ +"Sonya! What is anyone in the world to me? You alone are everything!"\ +said Nicholas. "And I will prove it to you."\ +\ +"I don't like you to talk like that."\ +\ +"Well, then, I won't; only forgive me, Sonya!" He drew her to him and\ +kissed her.\ +\ +"Oh, how nice," thought Natasha; and when Sonya and Nicholas had gone\ +out of the conservatory she followed and called Boris to her.\ +\ +"Boris, come here," said she with a sly and significant look. "I have\ +something to tell you. Here, here!" and she led him into the\ +conservatory to the place among the tubs where she had been hiding.\ +\ +Boris followed her, smiling.\ +\ +"What is the something?" asked he.\ +\ +She grew confused, glanced round, and, seeing the doll she had thrown\ +down on one of the tubs, picked it up.\ +\ +"Kiss the doll," said she.\ +\ +Boris looked attentively and kindly at her eager face, but did not\ +reply.\ +\ +"Don't you want to? Well, then, come here," said she, and went further\ +in among the plants and threw down the doll. "Closer, closer!" she\ +whispered.\ +\ +She caught the young officer by his cuffs, and a look of solemnity and\ +fear appeared on her flushed face.\ +\ +"And me? Would you like to kiss me?" she whispered almost inaudibly,\ +glancing up at him from under her brows, smiling, and almost crying from\ +excitement.\ +\ +Boris blushed.\ +\ +"How funny you are!" he said, bending down to her and blushing still\ +more, but he waited and did nothing.\ +\ +Suddenly she jumped up onto a tub to be higher than he, embraced him so\ +that both her slender bare arms clasped him above his neck, and, tossing\ +back her hair, kissed him full on the lips.\ +\ +Then she slipped down among the flowerpots on the other side of the tubs\ +and stood, hanging her head.\ +\ +"Natasha," he said, "you know that I love you, but..."\ +\ +"You are in love with me?" Natasha broke in.\ +\ +"Yes, I am, but please don't let us do like that.... In another four\ +years... then I will ask for your hand."\ +\ +Natasha considered.\ +\ +"Thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen," she counted on her slender\ +little fingers. "All right! Then it's settled?"\ +\ +A smile of joy and satisfaction lit up her eager face.\ +\ +"Settled!" replied Boris.\ +\ +"Forever?" said the little girl. "Till death itself?"\ +\ +She took his arm and with a happy face went with him into the adjoining\ +sitting room.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XIV\ +\ +After receiving her visitors, the countess was so tired that she gave\ +orders to admit no more, but the porter was told to be sure to invite to\ +dinner all who came "to congratulate." The countess wished to have a\ +t\'eate-\'e0-t\'eate talk with the friend of her childhood, Princess Anna\ +Mikhaylovna, whom she had not seen properly since she returned from\ +Petersburg. Anna Mikhaylovna, with her tear-worn but pleasant face, drew\ +her chair nearer to that of the countess.\ +\ +"With you I will be quite frank," said Anna Mikhaylovna. "There are not\ +many left of us old friends! That's why I so value your friendship."\ +\ +Anna Mikhaylovna looked at Vera and paused. The countess pressed her\ +friend's hand.\ +\ +"Vera," she said to her eldest daughter who was evidently not a\ +favorite, "how is it you have so little tact? Don't you see you are not\ +wanted here? Go to the other girls, or..."\ +\ +The handsome Vera smiled contemptuously but did not seem at all hurt.\ +\ +"If you had told me sooner, Mamma, I would have gone," she replied as\ +she rose to go to her own room.\ +\ +But as she passed the sitting room she noticed two couples sitting, one\ +pair at each window. She stopped and smiled scornfully. Sonya was\ +sitting close to Nicholas who was copying out some verses for her, the\ +first he had ever written. Boris and Natasha were at the other window\ +and ceased talking when Vera entered. Sonya and Natasha looked at Vera\ +with guilty, happy faces.\ +\ +It was pleasant and touching to see these little girls in love; but\ +apparently the sight of them roused no pleasant feeling in Vera.\ +\ +"How often have I asked you not to take my things?" she said. "You have\ +a room of your own," and she took the inkstand from Nicholas.\ +\ +"In a minute, in a minute," he said, dipping his pen.\ +\ +"You always manage to do things at the wrong time," continued Vera. "You\ +came rushing into the drawing room so that everyone felt ashamed of\ +you."\ +\ +Though what she said was quite just, perhaps for that very reason no one\ +replied, and the four simply looked at one another. She lingered in the\ +room with the inkstand in her hand.\ +\ +"And at your age what secrets can there be between Natasha and Boris, or\ +between you two? It's all nonsense!"\ +\ +"Now, Vera, what does it matter to you?" said Natasha in defense,\ +speaking very gently.\ +\ +She seemed that day to be more than ever kind and affectionate to\ +everyone.\ +\ +"Very silly," said Vera. "I am ashamed of you. Secrets indeed!"\ +\ +"All have secrets of their own," answered Natasha, getting warmer. "We\ +don't interfere with you and Berg."\ +\ +"I should think not," said Vera, "because there can never be anything\ +wrong in my behavior. But I'll just tell Mamma how you are behaving with\ +Boris."\ +\ +"Natalya Ilynichna behaves very well to me," remarked Boris. "I have\ +nothing to complain of."\ +\ +"Don't, Boris! You are such a diplomat that it is really tiresome," said\ +Natasha in a mortified voice that trembled slightly. (She used the word\ +"diplomat," which was just then much in vogue among the children, in the\ +special sense they attached to it.) "Why does she bother me?" And she\ +added, turning to Vera, "You'll never understand it, because you've\ +never loved anyone. You have no heart! You are a Madame de Genlis and\ +nothing more" (this nickname, bestowed on Vera by Nicholas, was\ +considered very stinging), "and your greatest pleasure is to be\ +unpleasant to people! Go and flirt with Berg as much as you please," she\ +finished quickly.\ +\ +"I shall at any rate not run after a young man before visitors..."\ +\ +"Well, now you've done what you wanted," put in Nicholas--"said\ +unpleasant things to everyone and upset them. Let's go to the nursery."\ +\ +All four, like a flock of scared birds, got up and left the room.\ +\ +"The unpleasant things were said to me," remarked Vera, "I said none to\ +anyone."\ +\ +"Madame de Genlis! Madame de Genlis!" shouted laughing voices through\ +the door.\ +\ +The handsome Vera, who produced such an irritating and unpleasant effect\ +on everyone, smiled and, evidently unmoved by what had been said to her,\ +went to the looking glass and arranged her hair and scarf. Looking at\ +her own handsome face she seemed to become still colder and calmer.\ +\ +In the drawing room the conversation was still going on.\ +\ +"Ah, my dear," said the countess, "my life is not all roses either.\ +Don't I know that at the rate we are living our means won't last long?\ +It's all the Club and his easygoing nature. Even in the country do we\ +get any rest? Theatricals, hunting, and heaven knows what besides! But\ +don't let's talk about me; tell me how you managed everything. I often\ +wonder at you, Annette--how at your age you can rush off alone in a\ +carriage to Moscow, to Petersburg, to those ministers and great people,\ +and know how to deal with them all! It's quite astonishing. How did you\ +get things settled? I couldn't possibly do it."\ +\ +"Ah, my love," answered Anna Mikhaylovna, "God grant you never know what\ +it is to be left a widow without means and with a son you love to\ +distraction! One learns many things then," she added with a certain\ +pride. "That lawsuit taught me much. When I want to see one of those big\ +people I write a note: 'Princess So-and-So desires an interview with So\ +and-So,' and then I take a cab and go myself two, three, or four times--\ +till I get what I want. I don't mind what they think of me."\ +\ +"Well, and to whom did you apply about Bory?" asked the countess. "You\ +see yours is already an officer in the Guards, while my Nicholas is\ +going as a cadet. There's no one to interest himself for him. To whom\ +did you apply?"\ +\ +"To Prince Vasili. He was so kind. He at once agreed to everything, and\ +put the matter before the Emperor," said Princess Anna Mikhaylovna\ +enthusiastically, quite forgetting all the humiliation she had endured\ +to gain her end.\ +\ +"Has Prince Vasili aged much?" asked the countess. "I have not seen him\ +since we acted together at the Rumyantsovs' theatricals. I expect he has\ +forgotten me. He paid me attentions in those days," said the countess,\ +with a smile.\ +\ +"He is just the same as ever," replied Anna Mikhaylovna, "overflowing\ +with amiability. His position has not turned his head at all. He said to\ +me, 'I am sorry I can do so little for you, dear Princess. I am at your\ +command.' Yes, he is a fine fellow and a very kind relation. But,\ +Nataly, you know my love for my son: I would do anything for his\ +happiness! And my affairs are in such a bad way that my position is now\ +a terrible one," continued Anna Mikhaylovna, sadly, dropping her voice.\ +"My wretched lawsuit takes all I have and makes no progress. Would you\ +believe it, I have literally not a penny and don't know how to equip\ +Boris." She took out her handkerchief and began to cry. "I need five\ +hundred rubles, and have only one twenty-five-ruble note. I am in such a\ +state.... My only hope now is in Count Cyril Vladimirovich Bezukhov. If\ +he will not assist his godson--you know he is Bory's godfather--and\ +allow him something for his maintenance, all my trouble will have been\ +thrown away.... I shall not be able to equip him."\ +\ +The countess' eyes filled with tears and she pondered in silence.\ +\ +"I often think, though, perhaps it's a sin," said the princess, "that\ +here lives Count Cyril Vladimirovich Bezukhov so rich, all alone... that\ +tremendous fortune... and what is his life worth? It's a burden to him,\ +and Bory's life is only just beginning...."\ +\ +"Surely he will leave something to Boris," said the countess.\ +\ +"Heaven only knows, my dear! These rich grandees are so selfish. Still,\ +I will take Boris and go to see him at once, and I shall speak to him\ +straight out. Let people think what they will of me, it's really all the\ +same to me when my son's fate is at stake." The princess rose. "It's now\ +two o'clock and you dine at four. There will just be time."\ +\ +And like a practical Petersburg lady who knows how to make the most of\ +time, Anna Mikhaylovna sent someone to call her son, and went into the\ +anteroom with him.\ +\ +"Good-bye, my dear," said she to the countess who saw her to the door,\ +and added in a whisper so that her son should not hear, "Wish me good\ +luck."\ +\ +"Are you going to Count Cyril Vladimirovich, my dear?" said the count\ +coming out from the dining hall into the anteroom, and he added: "If he\ +is better, ask Pierre to dine with us. He has been to the house, you\ +know, and danced with the children. Be sure to invite him, my dear. We\ +will see how Taras distinguishes himself today. He says Count Orlov\ +never gave such a dinner as ours will be!"\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XV\ +\ +"My dear Boris," said Princess Anna Mikhaylovna to her son as Countess\ +Rostova's carriage in which they were seated drove over the straw\ +covered street and turned into the wide courtyard of Count Cyril\ +Vladimirovich Bezukhov's house. "My dear Boris," said the mother,\ +drawing her hand from beneath her old mantle and laying it timidly and\ +tenderly on her son's arm, "be affectionate and attentive to him. Count\ +Cyril Vladimirovich is your godfather after all, your future depends on\ +him. Remember that, my dear, and be nice to him, as you so well know how\ +to be."\ +\ +"If only I knew that anything besides humiliation would come of it..."\ +answered her son coldly. "But I have promised and will do it for your\ +sake."\ +\ +Although the hall porter saw someone's carriage standing at the\ +entrance, after scrutinizing the mother and son (who without asking to\ +be announced had passed straight through the glass porch between the\ +rows of statues in niches) and looking significantly at the lady's old\ +cloak, he asked whether they wanted the count or the princesses, and,\ +hearing that they wished to see the count, said his excellency was worse\ +today, and that his excellency was not receiving anyone.\ +\ +"We may as well go back," said the son in French.\ +\ +"My dear!" exclaimed his mother imploringly, again laying her hand on\ +his arm as if that touch might soothe or rouse him.\ +\ +Boris said no more, but looked inquiringly at his mother without taking\ +off his cloak.\ +\ +"My friend," said Anna Mikhaylovna in gentle tones, addressing the hall\ +porter, "I know Count Cyril Vladimirovich is very ill... that's why I\ +have come... I am a relation. I shall not disturb him, my friend... I\ +only need see Prince Vasili Sergeevich: he is staying here, is he not?\ +Please announce me."\ +\ +The hall porter sullenly pulled a bell that rang upstairs, and turned\ +away.\ +\ +"Princess Drubetskaya to see Prince Vasili Sergeevich," he called to a\ +footman dressed in knee breeches, shoes, and a swallow-tail coat, who\ +ran downstairs and looked over from the halfway landing.\ +\ +The mother smoothed the folds of her dyed silk dress before a large\ +Venetian mirror in the wall, and in her trodden-down shoes briskly\ +ascended the carpeted stairs.\ +\ +"My dear," she said to her son, once more stimulating him by a touch,\ +"you promised me!"\ +\ +The son, lowering his eyes, followed her quietly.\ +\ +They entered the large hall, from which one of the doors led to the\ +apartments assigned to Prince Vasili.\ +\ +Just as the mother and son, having reached the middle of the hall, were\ +about to ask their way of an elderly footman who had sprung up as they\ +entered, the bronze handle of one of the doors turned and Prince Vasili\ +came out--wearing a velvet coat with a single star on his breast, as was\ +his custom when at home--taking leave of a good-looking, dark-haired\ +man. This was the celebrated Petersburg doctor, Lorrain.\ +\ +"Then it is certain?" said the prince.\ +\ +"Prince, humanum est errare, * but..." replied the doctor, swallowing\ +his r's, and pronouncing the Latin words with a French accent.\ +\ +\ +* To err is human.\ +\ +"Very well, very well..."\ +\ +Seeing Anna Mikhaylovna and her son, Prince Vasili dismissed the doctor\ +with a bow and approached them silently and with a look of inquiry. The\ +son noticed that an expression of profound sorrow suddenly clouded his\ +mother's face, and he smiled slightly.\ +\ +"Ah, Prince! In what sad circumstances we meet again! And how is our\ +dear invalid?" said she, as though unaware of the cold offensive look\ +fixed on her.\ +\ +Prince Vasili stared at her and at Boris questioningly and perplexed.\ +Boris bowed politely. Prince Vasili without acknowledging the bow turned\ +to Anna Mikhaylovna, answering her query by a movement of the head and\ +lips indicating very little hope for the patient.\ +\ +"Is it possible?" exclaimed Anna Mikhaylovna. "Oh, how awful! It is\ +terrible to think.... This is my son," she added, indicating Boris. "He\ +wanted to thank you himself."\ +\ +Boris bowed again politely.\ +\ +"Believe me, Prince, a mother's heart will never forget what you have\ +done for us."\ +\ +"I am glad I was able to do you a service, my dear Anna Mikhaylovna,"\ +said Prince Vasili, arranging his lace frill, and in tone and manner,\ +here in Moscow to Anna Mikhaylovna whom he had placed under an\ +obligation, assuming an air of much greater importance than he had done\ +in Petersburg at Anna Scherer's reception.\ +\ +"Try to serve well and show yourself worthy," added he, addressing Boris\ +with severity. "I am glad.... Are you here on leave?" he went on in his\ +usual tone of indifference.\ +\ +"I am awaiting orders to join my new regiment, your excellency," replied\ +Boris, betraying neither annoyance at the prince's brusque manner nor a\ +desire to enter into conversation, but speaking so quietly and\ +respectfully that the prince gave him a searching glance.\ +\ +"Are you living with your mother?"\ +\ +"I am living at Countess Rostova's," replied Boris, again adding, "your\ +excellency."\ +\ +"That is, with Ilya Rostov who married Nataly Shinshina," said Anna\ +Mikhaylovna.\ +\ +"I know, I know," answered Prince Vasili in his monotonous voice. "I\ +never could understand how Nataly made up her mind to marry that\ +unlicked bear! A perfectly absurd and stupid fellow, and a gambler too,\ +I am told."\ +\ +"But a very kind man, Prince," said Anna Mikhaylovna with a pathetic\ +smile, as though she too knew that Count Rostov deserved this censure,\ +but asked him not to be too hard on the poor old man. "What do the\ +doctors say?" asked the princess after a pause, her worn face again\ +expressing deep sorrow.\ +\ +"They give little hope," replied the prince.\ +\ +"And I should so like to thank Uncle once for all his kindness to me and\ +Boris. He is his godson," she added, her tone suggesting that this fact\ +ought to give Prince Vasili much satisfaction.\ +\ +Prince Vasili became thoughtful and frowned. Anna Mikhaylovna saw that\ +he was afraid of finding in her a rival for Count Bezukhov's fortune,\ +and hastened to reassure him.\ +\ +"If it were not for my sincere affection and devotion to Uncle," said\ +she, uttering the word with peculiar assurance and unconcern, "I know\ +his character: noble, upright... but you see he has no one with him\ +except the young princesses.... They are still young...." She bent her\ +head and continued in a whisper: "Has he performed his final duty,\ +Prince? How priceless are those last moments! It can make things no\ +worse, and it is absolutely necessary to prepare him if he is so ill. We\ +women, Prince," and she smiled tenderly, "always know how to say these\ +things. I absolutely must see him, however painful it may be for me. I\ +am used to suffering."\ +\ +Evidently the prince understood her, and also understood, as he had done\ +at Anna Pavlovna's, that it would be difficult to get rid of Anna\ +Mikhaylovna.\ +\ +"Would not such a meeting be too trying for him, dear Anna Mikhaylovna?"\ +said he. "Let us wait until evening. The doctors are expecting a\ +crisis."\ +\ +"But one cannot delay, Prince, at such a moment! Consider that the\ +welfare of his soul is at stake. Ah, it is awful: the duties of a\ +Christian..."\ +\ +A door of one of the inner rooms opened and one of the princesses, the\ +count's niece, entered with a cold, stern face. The length of her body\ +was strikingly out of proportion to her short legs. Prince Vasili turned\ +to her.\ +\ +"Well, how is he?"\ +\ +"Still the same; but what can you expect, this noise..." said the\ +princess, looking at Anna Mikhaylovna as at a stranger.\ +\ +"Ah, my dear, I hardly knew you," said Anna Mikhaylovna with a happy\ +smile, ambling lightly up to the count's niece. "I have come, and am at\ +your service to help you nurse my uncle. I imagine what you have gone\ +through," and she sympathetically turned up her eyes.\ +\ +The princess gave no reply and did not even smile, but left the room as\ +Anna Mikhaylovna took off her gloves and, occupying the position she had\ +conquered, settled down in an armchair, inviting Prince Vasili to take a\ +seat beside her.\ +\ +"Boris," she said to her son with a smile, "I shall go in to see the\ +count, my uncle; but you, my dear, had better go to Pierre meanwhile and\ +don't forget to give him the Rostovs' invitation. They ask him to\ +dinner. I suppose he won't go?" she continued, turning to the prince.\ +\ +"On the contrary," replied the prince, who had plainly become depressed,\ +"I shall be only too glad if you relieve me of that young man.... Here\ +he is, and the count has not once asked for him."\ +\ +He shrugged his shoulders. A footman conducted Boris down one flight of\ +stairs and up another, to Pierre's rooms.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XVI\ +\ +Pierre, after all, had not managed to choose a career for himself in\ +Petersburg, and had been expelled from there for riotous conduct and\ +sent to Moscow. The story told about him at Count Rostov's was true.\ +Pierre had taken part in tying a policeman to a bear. He had now been\ +for some days in Moscow and was staying as usual at his father's house.\ +Though he expected that the story of his escapade would be already known\ +in Moscow and that the ladies about his father--who were never favorably\ +disposed toward him--would have used it to turn the count against him,\ +he nevertheless on the day of his arrival went to his father's part of\ +the house. Entering the drawing room, where the princesses spent most of\ +their time, he greeted the ladies, two of whom were sitting at\ +embroidery frames while a third read aloud. It was the eldest who was\ +reading--the one who had met Anna Mikhaylovna. The two younger ones were\ +embroidering: both were rosy and pretty and they differed only in that\ +one had a little mole on her lip which made her much prettier. Pierre\ +was received as if he were a corpse or a leper. The eldest princess\ +paused in her reading and silently stared at him with frightened eyes;\ +the second assumed precisely the same expression; while the youngest,\ +the one with the mole, who was of a cheerful and lively disposition,\ +bent over her frame to hide a smile probably evoked by the amusing scene\ +she foresaw. She drew her wool down through the canvas and, scarcely\ +able to refrain from laughing, stooped as if trying to make out the\ +pattern.\ +\ +"How do you do, cousin?" said Pierre. "You don't recognize me?"\ +\ +"I recognize you only too well, too well."\ +\ +"How is the count? Can I see him?" asked Pierre, awkwardly as usual, but\ +unabashed.\ +\ +"The count is suffering physically and mentally, and apparently you have\ +done your best to increase his mental sufferings."\ +\ +"Can I see the count?" Pierre again asked.\ +\ +"Hm.... If you wish to kill him, to kill him outright, you can see\ +him... Olga, go and see whether Uncle's beef tea is ready--it is almost\ +time," she added, giving Pierre to understand that they were busy, and\ +busy making his father comfortable, while evidently he, Pierre, was only\ +busy causing him annoyance.\ +\ +Olga went out. Pierre stood looking at the sisters; then he bowed and\ +said: "Then I will go to my rooms. You will let me know when I can see\ +him."\ +\ +And he left the room, followed by the low but ringing laughter of the\ +sister with the mole.\ +\ +Next day Prince Vasili had arrived and settled in the count's house. He\ +sent for Pierre and said to him: "My dear fellow, if you are going to\ +behave here as you did in Petersburg, you will end very badly; that is\ +all I have to say to you. The count is very, very ill, and you must not\ +see him at all."\ +\ +Since then Pierre had not been disturbed and had spent the whole time in\ +his rooms upstairs.\ +\ +When Boris appeared at his door Pierre was pacing up and down his room,\ +stopping occasionally at a corner to make menacing gestures at the wall,\ +as if running a sword through an invisible foe, and glaring savagely\ +over his spectacles, and then again resuming his walk, muttering\ +indistinct words, shrugging his shoulders and gesticulating.\ +\ +"England is done for," said he, scowling and pointing his finger at\ +someone unseen. "Mr. Pitt, as a traitor to the nation and to the rights\ +of man, is sentenced to..." But before Pierre--who at that moment\ +imagined himself to be Napoleon in person and to have just effected the\ +dangerous crossing of the Straits of Dover and captured London--could\ +pronounce Pitt's sentence, he saw a well-built and handsome young\ +officer entering his room. Pierre paused. He had left Moscow when Boris\ +was a boy of fourteen, and had quite forgotten him, but in his usual\ +impulsive and hearty way he took Boris by the hand with a friendly\ +smile.\ +\ +"Do you remember me?" asked Boris quietly with a pleasant smile. "I have\ +come with my mother to see the count, but it seems he is not well."\ +\ +"Yes, it seems he is ill. People are always disturbing him," answered\ +Pierre, trying to remember who this young man was.\ +\ +Boris felt that Pierre did not recognize him but did not consider it\ +necessary to introduce himself, and without experiencing the least\ +embarrassment looked Pierre straight in the face.\ +\ +"Count Rostov asks you to come to dinner today," said he, after a\ +considerable pause which made Pierre feel uncomfortable.\ +\ +"Ah, Count Rostov!" exclaimed Pierre joyfully. "Then you are his son,\ +Ilya? Only fancy, I didn't know you at first. Do you remember how we\ +went to the Sparrow Hills with Madame Jacquot?... It's such an age..."\ +\ +"You are mistaken," said Boris deliberately, with a bold and slightly\ +sarcastic smile. "I am Boris, son of Princess Anna Mikhaylovna\ +Drubetskaya. Rostov, the father, is Ilya, and his son is Nicholas. I\ +never knew any Madame Jacquot."\ +\ +Pierre shook his head and arms as if attacked by mosquitoes or bees.\ +\ +"Oh dear, what am I thinking about? I've mixed everything up. One has so\ +many relatives in Moscow! So you are Boris? Of course. Well, now we know\ +where we are. And what do you think of the Boulogne expedition? The\ +English will come off badly, you know, if Napoleon gets across the\ +Channel. I think the expedition is quite feasible. If only Villeneuve\ +doesn't make a mess of things!"\ +\ +Boris knew nothing about the Boulogne expedition; he did not read the\ +papers and it was the first time he had heard Villeneuve's name.\ +\ +"We here in Moscow are more occupied with dinner parties and scandal\ +than with politics," said he in his quiet ironical tone. "I know nothing\ +about it and have not thought about it. Moscow is chiefly busy with\ +gossip," he continued. "Just now they are talking about you and your\ +father."\ +\ +Pierre smiled in his good-natured way as if afraid for his companion's\ +sake that the latter might say something he would afterwards regret. But\ +Boris spoke distinctly, clearly, and dryly, looking straight into\ +Pierre's eyes.\ +\ +"Moscow has nothing else to do but gossip," Boris went on. "Everybody is\ +wondering to whom the count will leave his fortune, though he may\ +perhaps outlive us all, as I sincerely hope he will..."\ +\ +"Yes, it is all very horrid," interrupted Pierre, "very horrid."\ +\ +Pierre was still afraid that this officer might inadvertently say\ +something disconcerting to himself.\ +\ +"And it must seem to you," said Boris flushing slightly, but not\ +changing his tone or attitude, "it must seem to you that everyone is\ +trying to get something out of the rich man?"\ +\ +"So it does," thought Pierre.\ +\ +"But I just wish to say, to avoid misunderstandings, that you are quite\ +mistaken if you reckon me or my mother among such people. We are very\ +poor, but for my own part at any rate, for the very reason that your\ +father is rich, I don't regard myself as a relation of his, and neither\ +I nor my mother would ever ask or take anything from him."\ +\ +For a long time Pierre could not understand, but when he did, he jumped\ +up from the sofa, seized Boris under the elbow in his quick, clumsy way,\ +and, blushing far more than Boris, began to speak with a feeling of\ +mingled shame and vexation.\ +\ +"Well, this is strange! Do you suppose I... who could think?... I know\ +very well..."\ +\ +But Boris again interrupted him.\ +\ +"I am glad I have spoken out fully. Perhaps you did not like it? You\ +must excuse me," said he, putting Pierre at ease instead of being put at\ +ease by him, "but I hope I have not offended you. I always make it a\ +rule to speak out... Well, what answer am I to take? Will you come to\ +dinner at the Rostovs'?"\ +\ +And Boris, having apparently relieved himself of an onerous duty and\ +extricated himself from an awkward situation and placed another in it,\ +became quite pleasant again.\ +\ +"No, but I say," said Pierre, calming down, "you are a wonderful fellow!\ +What you have just said is good, very good. Of course you don't know me.\ +We have not met for such a long time... not since we were children. You\ +might think that I... I understand, quite understand. I could not have\ +done it myself, I should not have had the courage, but it's splendid. I\ +am very glad to have made your acquaintance. It's queer," he added after\ +a pause, "that you should have suspected me!" He began to laugh. "Well,\ +what of it! I hope we'll get better acquainted," and he pressed Boris'\ +hand. "Do you know, I have not once been in to see the count. He has not\ +sent for me.... I am sorry for him as a man, but what can one do?"\ +\ +"And so you think Napoleon will manage to get an army across?" asked\ +Boris with a smile.\ +\ +Pierre saw that Boris wished to change the subject, and being of the\ +same mind he began explaining the advantages and disadvantages of the\ +Boulogne expedition.\ +\ +A footman came in to summon Boris--the princess was going. Pierre, in\ +order to make Boris' better acquaintance, promised to come to dinner,\ +and warmly pressing his hand looked affectionately over his spectacles\ +into Boris' eyes. After he had gone Pierre continued pacing up and down\ +the room for a long time, no longer piercing an imaginary foe with his\ +imaginary sword, but smiling at the remembrance of that pleasant,\ +intelligent, and resolute young man.\ +\ +As often happens in early youth, especially to one who leads a lonely\ +life, he felt an unaccountable tenderness for this young man and made up\ +his mind that they would be friends.\ +\ +Prince Vasili saw the princess off. She held a handkerchief to her eyes\ +and her face was tearful.\ +\ +"It is dreadful, dreadful!" she was saying, "but cost me what it may I\ +shall do my duty. I will come and spend the night. He must not be left\ +like this. Every moment is precious. I can't think why his nieces put it\ +off. Perhaps God will help me to find a way to prepare him!... Adieu,\ +Prince! May God support you..."\ +\ +"Adieu, ma bonne," answered Prince Vasili turning away from her.\ +\ +"Oh, he is in a dreadful state," said the mother to her son when they\ +were in the carriage. "He hardly recognizes anybody."\ +\ +"I don't understand, Mamma--what is his attitude to Pierre?" asked the\ +son.\ +\ +"The will will show that, my dear; our fate also depends on it."\ +\ +"But why do you expect that he will leave us anything?"\ +\ +"Ah, my dear! He is so rich, and we are so poor!"\ +\ +"Well, that is hardly a sufficient reason, Mamma..."\ +\ +"Oh, Heaven! How ill he is!" exclaimed the mother.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XVII\ +\ +After Anna Mikhaylovna had driven off with her son to visit Count Cyril\ +Vladimirovich Bezukhov, Countess Rostova sat for a long time all alone\ +applying her handkerchief to her eyes. At last she rang.\ +\ +"What is the matter with you, my dear?" she said crossly to the maid who\ +kept her waiting some minutes. "Don't you wish to serve me? Then I'll\ +find you another place."\ +\ +The countess was upset by her friend's sorrow and humiliating poverty,\ +and was therefore out of sorts, a state of mind which with her always\ +found expression in calling her maid "my dear" and speaking to her with\ +exaggerated politeness.\ +\ +"I am very sorry, ma'am," answered the maid.\ +\ +"Ask the count to come to me."\ +\ +The count came waddling in to see his wife with a rather guilty look as\ +usual.\ +\ +"Well, little countess? What a saute of game au madere we are to have,\ +my dear! I tasted it. The thousand rubles I paid for Taras were not ill-\ +spent. He is worth it!"\ +\ +He sat down by his wife, his elbows on his knees and his hands ruffling\ +his gray hair.\ +\ +"What are your commands, little countess?"\ +\ +"You see, my dear... What's that mess?" she said, pointing to his\ +waistcoat. "It's the saute, most likely," she added with a smile. "Well,\ +you see, Count, I want some money."\ +\ +Her face became sad.\ +\ +"Oh, little countess!"... and the count began bustling to get out his\ +pocketbook.\ +\ +"I want a great deal, Count! I want five hundred rubles," and taking out\ +her cambric handkerchief she began wiping her husband's waistcoat.\ +\ +"Yes, immediately, immediately! Hey, who's there?" he called out in a\ +tone only used by persons who are certain that those they call will rush\ +to obey the summons. "Send Dmitri to me!"\ +\ +Dmitri, a man of good family who had been brought up in the count's\ +house and now managed all his affairs, stepped softly into the room.\ +\ +"This is what I want, my dear fellow," said the count to the deferential\ +young man who had entered. "Bring me..." he reflected a moment, "yes,\ +bring me seven hundred rubles, yes! But mind, don't bring me such\ +tattered and dirty notes as last time, but nice clean ones for the\ +countess."\ +\ +"Yes, Dmitri, clean ones, please," said the countess, sighing deeply.\ +\ +"When would you like them, your excellency?" asked Dmitri. "Allow me to\ +inform you... But, don't be uneasy," he added, noticing that the count\ +was beginning to breathe heavily and quickly which was always a sign of\ +approaching anger. "I was forgetting... Do you wish it brought at once?"\ +\ +"Yes, yes; just so! Bring it. Give it to the countess."\ +\ +"What a treasure that Dmitri is," added the count with a smile when the\ +young man had departed. "There is never any 'impossible' with him.\ +That's a thing I hate! Everything is possible."\ +\ +"Ah, money, Count, money! How much sorrow it causes in the world," said\ +the countess. "But I am in great need of this sum."\ +\ +"You, my little countess, are a notorious spendthrift," said the count,\ +and having kissed his wife's hand he went back to his study.\ +\ +When Anna Mikhaylovna returned from Count Bezukhov's the money, all in\ +clean notes, was lying ready under a handkerchief on the countess'\ +little table, and Anna Mikhaylovna noticed that something was agitating\ +her.\ +\ +"Well, my dear?" asked the countess.\ +\ +"Oh, what a terrible state he is in! One would not know him, he is so\ +ill! I was only there a few moments and hardly said a word..."\ +\ +"Annette, for heaven's sake don't refuse me," the countess began, with a\ +blush that looked very strange on her thin, dignified, elderly face, and\ +she took the money from under the handkerchief.\ +\ +Anna Mikhaylovna instantly guessed her intention and stooped to be ready\ +to embrace the countess at the appropriate moment.\ +\ +"This is for Boris from me, for his outfit."\ +\ +Anna Mikhaylovna was already embracing her and weeping. The countess\ +wept too. They wept because they were friends, and because they were\ +kindhearted, and because they--friends from childhood--had to think\ +about such a base thing as money, and because their youth was over....\ +But those tears were pleasant to them both.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XVIII\ +\ +Countess Rostova, with her daughters and a large number of guests, was\ +already seated in the drawing room. The count took the gentlemen into\ +his study and showed them his choice collection of Turkish pipes. From\ +time to time he went out to ask: "Hasn't she come yet?" They were\ +expecting Marya Dmitrievna Akhrosimova, known in society as le terrible\ +dragon, a lady distinguished not for wealth or rank, but for common\ +sense and frank plainness of speech. Marya Dmitrievna was known to the\ +Imperial family as well as to all Moscow and Petersburg, and both cities\ +wondered at her, laughed privately at her rudenesses, and told good\ +stories about her, while none the less all without exception respected\ +and feared her.\ +\ +In the count's room, which was full of tobacco smoke, they talked of war\ +that had been announced in a manifesto, and about the recruiting. None\ +of them had yet seen the manifesto, but they all knew it had appeared.\ +The count sat on the sofa between two guests who were smoking and\ +talking. He neither smoked nor talked, but bending his head first to one\ +side and then to the other watched the smokers with evident pleasure and\ +listened to the conversation of his two neighbors, whom he egged on\ +against each other.\ +\ +One of them was a sallow, clean-shaven civilian with a thin and wrinkled\ +face, already growing old, though he was dressed like a most fashionable\ +young man. He sat with his legs up on the sofa as if quite at home and,\ +having stuck an amber mouthpiece far into his mouth, was inhaling the\ +smoke spasmodically and screwing up his eyes. This was an old bachelor,\ +Shinshin, a cousin of the countess', a man with "a sharp tongue" as they\ +said in Moscow society. He seemed to be condescending to his companion.\ +The latter, a fresh, rosy officer of the Guards, irreproachably washed,\ +brushed, and buttoned, held his pipe in the middle of his mouth and with\ +red lips gently inhaled the smoke, letting it escape from his handsome\ +mouth in rings. This was Lieutenant Berg, an officer in the Semenov\ +regiment with whom Boris was to travel to join the army, and about whom\ +Natasha had teased her elder sister Vera, speaking of Berg as her\ +"intended." The count sat between them and listened attentively. His\ +favorite occupation when not playing boston, a card game he was very\ +fond of, was that of listener, especially when he succeeded in setting\ +two loquacious talkers at one another.\ +\ +"Well, then, old chap, mon tres honorable Alphonse Karlovich," said\ +Shinshin, laughing ironically and mixing the most ordinary Russian\ +expressions with the choicest French phrases--which was a peculiarity of\ +his speech. "Vous comptez vous faire des rentes sur l'etat; * you want\ +to make something out of your company?"\ +\ +\ +* You expect to make an income out of the government.\ +\ +"No, Peter Nikolaevich; I only want to show that in the cavalry the\ +advantages are far less than in the infantry. Just consider my own\ +position now, Peter Nikolaevich..."\ +\ +Berg always spoke quietly, politely, and with great precision. His\ +conversation always related entirely to himself; he would remain calm\ +and silent when the talk related to any topic that had no direct bearing\ +on himself. He could remain silent for hours without being at all put\ +out of countenance himself or making others uncomfortable, but as soon\ +as the conversation concerned himself he would begin to talk\ +circumstantially and with evident satisfaction.\ +\ +"Consider my position, Peter Nikolaevich. Were I in the cavalry I should\ +get not more than two hundred rubles every four months, even with the\ +rank of lieutenant; but as it is I receive two hundred and thirty," said\ +he, looking at Shinshin and the count with a joyful, pleasant smile, as\ +if it were obvious to him that his success must always be the chief\ +desire of everyone else.\ +\ +"Besides that, Peter Nikolaevich, by exchanging into the Guards I shall\ +be in a more prominent position," continued Berg, "and vacancies occur\ +much more frequently in the Foot Guards. Then just think what can be\ +done with two hundred and thirty rubles! I even manage to put a little\ +aside and to send something to my father," he went on, emitting a smoke\ +ring.\ +\ +"La balance y est... * A German knows how to skin a flint, as the\ +proverb says," remarked Shinshin, moving his pipe to the other side of\ +his mouth and winking at the count.\ +\ +\ +* So that squares matters.\ +\ +The count burst out laughing. The other guests seeing that Shinshin was\ +talking came up to listen. Berg, oblivious of irony or indifference,\ +continued to explain how by exchanging into the Guards he had already\ +gained a step on his old comrades of the Cadet Corps; how in wartime the\ +company commander might get killed and he, as senior in the company,\ +might easily succeed to the post; how popular he was with everyone in\ +the regiment, and how satisfied his father was with him. Berg evidently\ +enjoyed narrating all this, and did not seem to suspect that others,\ +too, might have their own interests. But all he said was so prettily\ +sedate, and the naivete of his youthful egotism was so obvious, that he\ +disarmed his hearers.\ +\ +"Well, my boy, you'll get along wherever you go--foot or horse--that\ +I'll warrant," said Shinshin, patting him on the shoulder and taking his\ +feet off the sofa.\ +\ +Berg smiled joyously. The count, by his guests, went into the drawing\ +room.\ +\ +It was just the moment before a big dinner when the assembled guests,\ +expecting the summons to zakuska, * avoid engaging in any long\ +conversation but think it necessary to move about and talk, in order to\ +show that they are not at all impatient for their food. The host and\ +hostess look toward the door, and now and then glance at one another,\ +and the visitors try to guess from these glances who, or what, they are\ +waiting for--some important relation who has not yet arrived, or a dish\ +that is not yet ready.\ +\ +\ +* Hors d'oeuvres.\ +\ +Pierre had come just at dinnertime and was sitting awkwardly in the\ +middle of the drawing room on the first chair he had come across,\ +blocking the way for everyone. The countess tried to make him talk, but\ +he went on naively looking around through his spectacles as if in search\ +of somebody and answered all her questions in monosyllables. He was in\ +the way and was the only one who did not notice the fact. Most of the\ +guests, knowing of the affair with the bear, looked with curiosity at\ +this big, stout, quiet man, wondering how such a clumsy, modest fellow\ +could have played such a prank on a policeman.\ +\ +"You have only lately arrived?" the countess asked him.\ +\ +"Oui, madame," replied he, looking around him.\ +\ +"You have not yet seen my husband?"\ +\ +"Non, madame." He smiled quite inappropriately.\ +\ +"You have been in Paris recently, I believe? I suppose it's very\ +interesting."\ +\ +"Very interesting."\ +\ +The countess exchanged glances with Anna Mikhaylovna. The latter\ +understood that she was being asked to entertain this young man, and\ +sitting down beside him she began to speak about his father; but he\ +answered her, as he had the countess, only in monosyllables. The other\ +guests were all conversing with one another. "The Razumovskis... It was\ +charming... You are very kind... Countess Apraksina..." was heard on all\ +sides. The countess rose and went into the ballroom.\ +\ +"Marya Dmitrievna?" came her voice from there.\ +\ +"Herself," came the answer in a rough voice, and Marya Dmitrievna\ +entered the room.\ +\ +All the unmarried ladies and even the married ones except the very\ +oldest rose. Marya Dmitrievna paused at the door. Tall and stout,\ +holding high her fifty-year-old head with its gray curls, she stood\ +surveying the guests, and leisurely arranged her wide sleeves as if\ +rolling them up. Marya Dmitrievna always spoke in Russian.\ +\ +"Health and happiness to her whose name day we are keeping and to her\ +children," she said, in her loud, full-toned voice which drowned all\ +others. "Well, you old sinner," she went on, turning to the count who\ +was kissing her hand, "you're feeling dull in Moscow, I daresay? Nowhere\ +to hunt with your dogs? But what is to be done, old man? Just see how\ +these nestlings are growing up," and she pointed to the girls. "You must\ +look for husbands for them whether you like it or not...."\ +\ +"Well," said she, "how's my Cossack?" (Marya Dmitrievna always called\ +Natasha a Cossack) and she stroked the child's arm as she came up\ +fearless and gay to kiss her hand. "I know she's a scamp of a girl, but\ +I like her."\ +\ +She took a pair of pear-shaped ruby earrings from her huge reticule and,\ +having given them to the rosy Natasha, who beamed with the pleasure of\ +her saint's-day fete, turned away at once and addressed herself to\ +Pierre.\ +\ +"Eh, eh, friend! Come here a bit," said she, assuming a soft high tone\ +of voice. "Come here, my friend..." and she ominously tucked up her\ +sleeves still higher. Pierre approached, looking at her in a childlike\ +way through his spectacles.\ +\ +"Come nearer, come nearer, friend! I used to be the only one to tell\ +your father the truth when he was in favor, and in your case it's my\ +evident duty." She paused. All were silent, expectant of what was to\ +follow, for this was clearly only a prelude.\ +\ +"A fine lad! My word! A fine lad!... His father lies on his deathbed and\ +he amuses himself setting a policeman astride a bear! For shame, sir,\ +for shame! It would be better if you went to the war."\ +\ +She turned away and gave her hand to the count, who could hardly keep\ +from laughing.\ +\ +"Well, I suppose it is time we were at table?" said Marya Dmitrievna.\ +\ +The count went in first with Marya Dmitrievna, the countess followed on\ +the arm of a colonel of hussars, a man of importance to them because\ +Nicholas was to go with him to the regiment; then came Anna Mikhaylovna\ +with Shinshin. Berg gave his arm to Vera. The smiling Julie Karagina\ +went in with Nicholas. After them other couples followed, filling the\ +whole dining hall, and last of all the children, tutors, and governesses\ +followed singly. The footmen began moving about, chairs scraped, the\ +band struck up in the gallery, and the guests settled down in their\ +places. Then the strains of the count's household band were replaced by\ +the clatter of knives and forks, the voices of visitors, and the soft\ +steps of the footmen. At one end of the table sat the countess with\ +Marya Dmitrievna on her right and Anna Mikhaylovna on her left, the\ +other lady visitors were farther down. At the other end sat the count,\ +with the hussar colonel on his left and Shinshin and the other male\ +visitors on his right. Midway down the long table on one side sat the\ +grownup young people: Vera beside Berg, and Pierre beside Boris; and on\ +the other side, the children, tutors, and governesses. From behind the\ +crystal decanters and fruit vases, the count kept glancing at his wife\ +and her tall cap with its light-blue ribbons, and busily filled his\ +neighbors' glasses, not neglecting his own. The countess in turn,\ +without omitting her duties as hostess, threw significant glances from\ +behind the pineapples at her husband whose face and bald head seemed by\ +their redness to contrast more than usual with his gray hair. At the\ +ladies' end an even chatter of voices was heard all the time, at the\ +men's end the voices sounded louder and louder, especially that of the\ +colonel of hussars who, growing more and more flushed, ate and drank so\ +much that the count held him up as a pattern to the other guests. Berg\ +with tender smiles was saying to Vera that love is not an earthly but a\ +heavenly feeling. Boris was telling his new friend Pierre who the guests\ +were and exchanging glances with Natasha, who was sitting opposite.\ +Pierre spoke little but examined the new faces, and ate a great deal. Of\ +the two soups he chose turtle with savory patties and went on to the\ +game without omitting a single dish or one of the wines. These latter\ +the butler thrust mysteriously forward, wrapped in a napkin, from behind\ +the next man's shoulders and whispered: "Dry Madeira"... "Hungarian"...\ +or "Rhine wine" as the case might be. Of the four crystal glasses\ +engraved with the count's monogram that stood before his plate, Pierre\ +held out one at random and drank with enjoyment, gazing with ever-\ +increasing amiability at the other guests. Natasha, who sat opposite,\ +was looking at Boris as girls of thirteen look at the boy they are in\ +love with and have just kissed for the first time. Sometimes that same\ +look fell on Pierre, and that funny lively little girl's look made him\ +inclined to laugh without knowing why.\ +\ +Nicholas sat at some distance from Sonya, beside Julie Karagina, to whom\ +he was again talking with the same involuntary smile. Sonya wore a\ +company smile but was evidently tormented by jealousy; now she turned\ +pale, now blushed and strained every nerve to overhear what Nicholas and\ +Julie were saying to one another. The governess kept looking round\ +uneasily as if preparing to resent any slight that might be put upon the\ +children. The German tutor was trying to remember all the dishes, wines,\ +and kinds of dessert, in order to send a full description of the dinner\ +to his people in Germany; and he felt greatly offended when the butler\ +with a bottle wrapped in a napkin passed him by. He frowned, trying to\ +appear as if he did not want any of that wine, but was mortified because\ +no one would understand that it was not to quench his thirst or from\ +greediness that he wanted it, but simply from a conscientious desire for\ +knowledge.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XIX\ +\ +At the men's end of the table the talk grew more and more animated. The\ +colonel told them that the declaration of war had already appeared in\ +Petersburg and that a copy, which he had himself seen, had that day been\ +forwarded by courier to the commander-in-chief.\ +\ +"And why the deuce are we going to fight Bonaparte?" remarked Shinshin.\ +"He has stopped Austria's cackle and I fear it will be our turn next."\ +\ +The colonel was a stout, tall, plethoric German, evidently devoted to\ +the service and patriotically Russian. He resented Shinshin's remark.\ +\ +"It is for the reasson, my goot sir," said he, speaking with a German\ +accent, "for the reasson zat ze Emperor knows zat. He declares in ze\ +manifessto zat he cannot fiew wiz indifference ze danger vreatening\ +Russia and zat ze safety and dignity of ze Empire as vell as ze sanctity\ +of its alliances..." he spoke this last word with particular emphasis as\ +if in it lay the gist of the matter.\ +\ +Then with the unerring official memory that characterized him he\ +repeated from the opening words of the manifesto:\ +\ +... and the wish, which constitutes the Emperor's sole and absolute aim-\ +-to establish peace in Europe on firm foundations--has now decided him\ +to despatch part of the army abroad and to create a new condition for\ +the attainment of that purpose.\ +\ +"Zat, my dear sir, is vy..." he concluded, drinking a tumbler of wine\ +with dignity and looking to the count for approval.\ +\ +"Connaissez-vous le Proverbe: * 'Jerome, Jerome, do not roam, but turn\ +spindles at home!'?" said Shinshin, puckering his brows and smiling.\ +"Cela nous convient a merveille.*(2) Suvorov now--he knew what he was\ +about; yet they beat him a plate couture,*(3) and where are we to find\ +Suvorovs now? Je vous demande un peu,"*(4) said he, continually changing\ +from French to Russian.\ +\ +\ +*Do you know the proverb?\ +\ +*(2) That suits us down to the ground.\ +\ +*(3) Hollow.\ +\ +*(4) I just ask you that.\ +\ +"Ve must vight to the last tr-r-op of our plood!" said the colonel,\ +thumping the table; "and ve must tie for our Emperor, and zen all vill\ +pe vell. And ve must discuss it as little as po-o-ossible"... he dwelt\ +particularly on the word possible... "as po-o-ossible," he ended, again\ +turning to the count. "Zat is how ve old hussars look at it, and zere's\ +an end of it! And how do you, a young man and a young hussar, how do you\ +judge of it?" he added, addressing Nicholas, who when he heard that the\ +war was being discussed had turned from his partner with eyes and ears\ +intent on the colonel.\ +\ +"I am quite of your opinion," replied Nicholas, flaming up, turning his\ +plate round and moving his wineglasses about with as much decision and\ +desperation as though he were at that moment facing some great danger.\ +"I am convinced that we Russians must die or conquer," he concluded,\ +conscious--as were others--after the words were uttered that his remarks\ +were too enthusiastic and emphatic for the occasion and were therefore\ +awkward.\ +\ +"What you said just now was splendid!" said his partner Julie.\ +\ +Sonya trembled all over and blushed to her ears and behind them and down\ +to her neck and shoulders while Nicholas was speaking.\ +\ +Pierre listened to the colonel's speech and nodded approvingly.\ +\ +"That's fine," said he.\ +\ +"The young man's a real hussar!" shouted the colonel, again thumping the\ +table.\ +\ +"What are you making such a noise about over there?" Marya Dmitrievna's\ +deep voice suddenly inquired from the other end of the table. "What are\ +you thumping the table for?" she demanded of the hussar, "and why are\ +you exciting yourself? Do you think the French are here?"\ +\ +"I am speaking ze truce," replied the hussar with a smile.\ +\ +"It's all about the war," the count shouted down the table. "You know my\ +son's going, Marya Dmitrievna? My son is going."\ +\ +"I have four sons in the army but still I don't fret. It is all in God's\ +hands. You may die in your bed or God may spare you in a battle,"\ +replied Marya Dmitrievna's deep voice, which easily carried the whole\ +length of the table.\ +\ +"That's true!"\ +\ +Once more the conversations concentrated, the ladies' at the one end and\ +the men's at the other.\ +\ +"You won't ask," Natasha's little brother was saying; "I know you won't\ +ask!"\ +\ +"I will," replied Natasha.\ +\ +Her face suddenly flushed with reckless and joyous resolution. She half\ +rose, by a glance inviting Pierre, who sat opposite, to listen to what\ +was coming, and turning to her mother:\ +\ +"Mamma!" rang out the clear contralto notes of her childish voice,\ +audible the whole length of the table.\ +\ +"What is it?" asked the countess, startled; but seeing by her daughter's\ +face that it was only mischief, she shook a finger at her sternly with a\ +threatening and forbidding movement of her head.\ +\ +The conversation was hushed.\ +\ +"Mamma! What sweets are we going to have?" and Natasha's voice sounded\ +still more firm and resolute.\ +\ +The countess tried to frown, but could not. Marya Dmitrievna shook her\ +fat finger.\ +\ +"Cossack!" she said threateningly.\ +\ +Most of the guests, uncertain how to regard this sally, looked at the\ +elders.\ +\ +"You had better take care!" said the countess.\ +\ +"Mamma! What sweets are we going to have?" Natasha again cried boldly,\ +with saucy gaiety, confident that her prank would be taken in good part.\ +\ +Sonya and fat little Petya doubled up with laughter.\ +\ +"You see! I have asked," whispered Natasha to her little brother and to\ +Pierre, glancing at him again.\ +\ +"Ice pudding, but you won't get any," said Marya Dmitrievna.\ +\ +Natasha saw there was nothing to be afraid of and so she braved even\ +Marya Dmitrievna.\ +\ +"Marya Dmitrievna! What kind of ice pudding? I don't like ice cream."\ +\ +"Carrot ices."\ +\ +"No! What kind, Marya Dmitrievna? What kind?" she almost screamed; "I\ +want to know!"\ +\ +Marya Dmitrievna and the countess burst out laughing, and all the guests\ +joined in. Everyone laughed, not at Marya Dmitrievna's answer but at the\ +incredible boldness and smartness of this little girl who had dared to\ +treat Marya Dmitrievna in this fashion.\ +\ +Natasha only desisted when she had been told that there would be\ +pineapple ice. Before the ices, champagne was served round. The band\ +again struck up, the count and countess kissed, and the guests, leaving\ +their seats, went up to "congratulate" the countess, and reached across\ +the table to clink glasses with the count, with the children, and with\ +one another. Again the footmen rushed about, chairs scraped, and in the\ +same order in which they had entered but with redder faces, the guests\ +returned to the drawing room and to the count's study.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XX\ +\ +The card tables were drawn out, sets made up for boston, and the count's\ +visitors settled themselves, some in the two drawing rooms, some in the\ +sitting room, some in the library.\ +\ +The count, holding his cards fanwise, kept himself with difficulty from\ +dropping into his usual after-dinner nap, and laughed at everything. The\ +young people, at the countess' instigation, gathered round the\ +clavichord and harp. Julie by general request played first. After she\ +had played a little air with variations on the harp, she joined the\ +other young ladies in begging Natasha and Nicholas, who were noted for\ +their musical talent, to sing something. Natasha, who was treated as\ +though she were grown up, was evidently very proud of this but at the\ +same time felt shy.\ +\ +"What shall we sing?" she said.\ +\ +"'The Brook,'" suggested Nicholas.\ +\ +"Well, then, let's be quick. Boris, come here," said Natasha. "But where\ +is Sonya?"\ +\ +She looked round and seeing that her friend was not in the room ran to\ +look for her.\ +\ +Running into Sonya's room and not finding her there, Natasha ran to the\ +nursery, but Sonya was not there either. Natasha concluded that she must\ +be on the chest in the passage. The chest in the passage was the place\ +of mourning for the younger female generation in the Rostov household.\ +And there in fact was Sonya lying face downward on Nurse's dirty feather\ +bed on the top of the chest, crumpling her gauzy pink dress under her,\ +hiding her face with her slender fingers, and sobbing so convulsively\ +that her bare little shoulders shook. Natasha's face, which had been so\ +radiantly happy all that saint's day, suddenly changed: her eyes became\ +fixed, and then a shiver passed down her broad neck and the corners of\ +her mouth drooped.\ +\ +"Sonya! What is it? What is the matter?... Oo... Oo... Oo...!" And\ +Natasha's large mouth widened, making her look quite ugly, and she began\ +to wail like a baby without knowing why, except that Sonya was crying.\ +Sonya tried to lift her head to answer but could not, and hid her face\ +still deeper in the bed. Natasha wept, sitting on the blue-striped\ +feather bed and hugging her friend. With an effort Sonya sat up and\ +began wiping her eyes and explaining.\ +\ +"Nicholas is going away in a week's time, his... papers... have come...\ +he told me himself... but still I should not cry," and she showed a\ +paper she held in her hand--with the verses Nicholas had written,\ +"still, I should not cry, but you can't... no one can understand... what\ +a soul he has!"\ +\ +And she began to cry again because he had such a noble soul.\ +\ +"It's all very well for you... I am not envious... I love you and Boris\ +also," she went on, gaining a little strength; "he is nice... there are\ +no difficulties in your way.... But Nicholas is my cousin... one would\ +have to... the Metropolitan himself... and even then it can't be done.\ +And besides, if she tells Mamma" (Sonya looked upon the countess as her\ +mother and called her so) "that I am spoiling Nicholas' career and am\ +heartless and ungrateful, while truly... God is my witness," and she\ +made the sign of the cross, "I love her so much, and all of you, only\ +Vera... And what for? What have I done to her? I am so grateful to you\ +that I would willingly sacrifice everything, only I have nothing...."\ +\ +Sonya could not continue, and again hid her face in her hands and in the\ +feather bed. Natasha began consoling her, but her face showed that she\ +understood all the gravity of her friend's trouble.\ +\ +"Sonya," she suddenly exclaimed, as if she had guessed the true reason\ +of her friend's sorrow, "I'm sure Vera has said something to you since\ +dinner? Hasn't she?"\ +\ +"Yes, these verses Nicholas wrote himself and I copied some others, and\ +she found them on my table and said she'd show them to Mamma, and that I\ +was ungrateful, and that Mamma would never allow him to marry me, but\ +that he'll marry Julie. You see how he's been with her all day...\ +Natasha, what have I done to deserve it?..."\ +\ +And again she began to sob, more bitterly than before. Natasha lifted\ +her up, hugged her, and, smiling through her tears, began comforting\ +her.\ +\ +"Sonya, don't believe her, darling! Don't believe her! Do you remember\ +how we and Nicholas, all three of us, talked in the sitting room after\ +supper? Why, we settled how everything was to be. I don't quite remember\ +how, but don't you remember that it could all be arranged and how nice\ +it all was? There's Uncle Shinshin's brother has married his first\ +cousin. And we are only second cousins, you know. And Boris says it is\ +quite possible. You know I have told him all about it. And he is so\ +clever and so good!" said Natasha. "Don't you cry, Sonya, dear love,\ +darling Sonya!" and she kissed her and laughed. "Vera's spiteful; never\ +mind her! And all will come right and she won't say anything to Mamma.\ +Nicholas will tell her himself, and he doesn't care at all for Julie."\ +\ +Natasha kissed her on the hair.\ +\ +Sonya sat up. The little kitten brightened, its eyes shone, and it\ +seemed ready to lift its tail, jump down on its soft paws, and begin\ +playing with the ball of worsted as a kitten should.\ +\ +"Do you think so?... Really? Truly?" she said, quickly smoothing her\ +frock and hair.\ +\ +"Really, truly!" answered Natasha, pushing in a crisp lock that had\ +strayed from under her friend's plaits.\ +\ +Both laughed.\ +\ +"Well, let's go and sing 'The Brook.'"\ +\ +"Come along!"\ +\ +"Do you know, that fat Pierre who sat opposite me is so funny!" said\ +Natasha, stopping suddenly. "I feel so happy!"\ +\ +And she set off at a run along the passage.\ +\ +Sonya, shaking off some down which clung to her and tucking away the\ +verses in the bosom of her dress close to her bony little chest, ran\ +after Natasha down the passage into the sitting room with flushed face\ +and light, joyous steps. At the visitors' request the young people sang\ +the quartette, "The Brook," with which everyone was delighted. Then\ +Nicholas sang a song he had just learned:\ +\ +\ +At nighttime in the moon's fair glow How sweet, as fancies wander free,\ +To feel that in this world there's one Who still is thinking but of\ +thee!\ +\ +That while her fingers touch the harp Wafting sweet music o'er the lea,\ +It is for thee thus swells her heart, Sighing its message out to thee...\ +\ +A day or two, then bliss unspoilt, But oh! till then I cannot live!...\ +\ +He had not finished the last verse before the young people began to get\ +ready to dance in the large hall, and the sound of the feet and the\ +coughing of the musicians were heard from the gallery.\ +\ +Pierre was sitting in the drawing-room where Shinshin had engaged him,\ +as a man recently returned from abroad, in a political conversation in\ +which several others joined but which bored Pierre. When the music began\ +Natasha came in and walking straight up to Pierre said, laughing and\ +blushing:\ +\ +"Mamma told me to ask you to join the dancers."\ +\ +"I am afraid of mixing the figures," Pierre replied; "but if you will be\ +my teacher..." And lowering his big arm he offered it to the slender\ +little girl.\ +\ +While the couples were arranging themselves and the musicians tuning up,\ +Pierre sat down with his little partner. Natasha was perfectly happy;\ +she was dancing with a grown-up man, who had been abroad. She was\ +sitting in a conspicuous place and talking to him like a grown-up lady.\ +She had a fan in her hand that one of the ladies had given her to hold.\ +Assuming quite the pose of a society woman (heaven knows when and where\ +she had learned it) she talked with her partner, fanning herself and\ +smiling over the fan.\ +\ +"Dear, dear! Just look at her!" exclaimed the countess as she crossed\ +the ballroom, pointing to Natasha.\ +\ +Natasha blushed and laughed.\ +\ +"Well, really, Mamma! Why should you? What is there to be surprised at?"\ +\ +In the midst of the third ecossaise there was a clatter of chairs being\ +pushed back in the sitting room where the count and Marya Dmitrievna had\ +been playing cards with the majority of the more distinguished and older\ +visitors. They now, stretching themselves after sitting so long, and\ +replacing their purses and pocketbooks, entered the ballroom. First came\ +Marya Dmitrievna and the count, both with merry countenances. The count,\ +with playful ceremony somewhat in ballet style, offered his bent arm to\ +Marya Dmitrievna. He drew himself up, a smile of debonair gallantry lit\ +up his face and as soon as the last figure of the ecossaise was ended,\ +he clapped his hands to the musicians and shouted up to their gallery,\ +addressing the first violin:\ +\ +"Semen! Do you know the Daniel Cooper?"\ +\ +This was the count's favorite dance, which he had danced in his youth.\ +(Strictly speaking, Daniel Cooper was one figure of the anglaise.)\ +\ +"Look at Papa!" shouted Natasha to the whole company, and quite\ +forgetting that she was dancing with a grown-up partner she bent her\ +curly head to her knees and made the whole room ring with her laughter.\ +\ +And indeed everybody in the room looked with a smile of pleasure at the\ +jovial old gentleman, who standing beside his tall and stout partner,\ +Marya Dmitrievna, curved his arms, beat time, straightened his\ +shoulders, turned out his toes, tapped gently with his foot, and, by a\ +smile that broadened his round face more and more, prepared the\ +onlookers for what was to follow. As soon as the provocatively gay\ +strains of Daniel Cooper (somewhat resembling those of a merry peasant\ +dance) began to sound, all the doorways of the ballroom were suddenly\ +filled by the domestic serfs--the men on one side and the women on the\ +other--who with beaming faces had come to see their master making merry.\ +\ +"Just look at the master! A regular eagle he is!" loudly remarked the\ +nurse, as she stood in one of the doorways.\ +\ +The count danced well and knew it. But his partner could not and did not\ +want to dance well. Her enormous figure stood erect, her powerful arms\ +hanging down (she had handed her reticule to the countess), and only her\ +stern but handsome face really joined in the dance. What was expressed\ +by the whole of the count's plump figure, in Marya Dmitrievna found\ +expression only in her more and more beaming face and quivering nose.\ +But if the count, getting more and more into the swing of it, charmed\ +the spectators by the unexpectedness of his adroit maneuvers and the\ +agility with which he capered about on his light feet, Marya Dmitrievna\ +produced no less impression by slight exertions--the least effort to\ +move her shoulders or bend her arms when turning, or stamp her foot--\ +which everyone appreciated in view of her size and habitual severity.\ +The dance grew livelier and livelier. The other couples could not\ +attract a moment's attention to their own evolutions and did not even\ +try to do so. All were watching the count and Marya Dmitrievna. Natasha\ +kept pulling everyone by sleeve or dress, urging them to "look at Papa!"\ +though as it was they never took their eyes off the couple. In the\ +intervals of the dance the count, breathing deeply, waved and shouted to\ +the musicians to play faster. Faster, faster, and faster; lightly, more\ +lightly, and yet more lightly whirled the count, flying round Marya\ +Dmitrievna, now on his toes, now on his heels; until, turning his\ +partner round to her seat, he executed the final pas, raising his soft\ +foot backwards, bowing his perspiring head, smiling and making a wide\ +sweep with his arm, amid a thunder of applause and laughter led by\ +Natasha. Both partners stood still, breathing heavily and wiping their\ +faces with their cambric handkerchiefs.\ +\ +"That's how we used to dance in our time, ma chere," said the count.\ +\ +"That was a Daniel Cooper!" exclaimed Marya Dmitrievna, tucking up her\ +sleeves and puffing heavily.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XXI\ +\ +While in the Rostovs' ballroom the sixth anglaise was being danced, to a\ +tune in which the weary musicians blundered, and while tired footmen and\ +cooks were getting the supper, Count Bezukhov had a sixth stroke. The\ +doctors pronounced recovery impossible. After a mute confession,\ +communion was administered to the dying man, preparations made for the\ +sacrament of unction, and in his house there was the bustle and thrill\ +of suspense usual at such moments. Outside the house, beyond the gates,\ +a group of undertakers, who hid whenever a carriage drove up, waited in\ +expectation of an important order for an expensive funeral. The Military\ +Governor of Moscow, who had been assiduous in sending aides-de-camp to\ +inquire after the count's health, came himself that evening to bid a\ +last farewell to the celebrated grandee of Catherine's court, Count\ +Bezukhov.\ +\ +The magnificent reception room was crowded. Everyone stood up\ +respectfully when the Military Governor, having stayed about half an\ +hour alone with the dying man, passed out, slightly acknowledging their\ +bows and trying to escape as quickly as possible from the glances fixed\ +on him by the doctors, clergy, and relatives of the family. Prince\ +Vasili, who had grown thinner and paler during the last few days,\ +escorted him to the door, repeating something to him several times in\ +low tones.\ +\ +When the Military Governor had gone, Prince Vasili sat down all alone on\ +a chair in the ballroom, crossing one leg high over the other, leaning\ +his elbow on his knee and covering his face with his hand. After sitting\ +so for a while he rose, and, looking about him with frightened eyes,\ +went with unusually hurried steps down the long corridor leading to the\ +back of the house, to the room of the eldest princess.\ +\ +Those who were in the dimly lit reception room spoke in nervous\ +whispers, and, whenever anyone went into or came from the dying man's\ +room, grew silent and gazed with eyes full of curiosity or expectancy at\ +his door, which creaked slightly when opened.\ +\ +"The limits of human life... are fixed and may not be o'erpassed," said\ +an old priest to a lady who had taken a seat beside him and was\ +listening naively to his words.\ +\ +"I wonder, is it not too late to administer unction?" asked the lady,\ +adding the priest's clerical title, as if she had no opinion of her own\ +on the subject.\ +\ +"Ah, madam, it is a great sacrament," replied the priest, passing his\ +hand over the thin grizzled strands of hair combed back across his bald\ +head.\ +\ +"Who was that? The Military Governor himself?" was being asked at the\ +other side of the room. "How young-looking he is!"\ +\ +"Yes, and he is over sixty. I hear the count no longer recognizes\ +anyone. They wished to administer the sacrament of unction."\ +\ +"I knew someone who received that sacrament seven times."\ +\ +The second princess had just come from the sickroom with her eyes red\ +from weeping and sat down beside Dr. Lorrain, who was sitting in a\ +graceful pose under a portrait of Catherine, leaning his elbow on a\ +table.\ +\ +"Beautiful," said the doctor in answer to a remark about the weather.\ +"The weather is beautiful, Princess; and besides, in Moscow one feels as\ +if one were in the country."\ +\ +"Yes, indeed," replied the princess with a sigh. "So he may have\ +something to drink?"\ +\ +Lorrain considered.\ +\ +"Has he taken his medicine?"\ +\ +"Yes."\ +\ +The doctor glanced at his watch.\ +\ +"Take a glass of boiled water and put a pinch of cream of tartar," and\ +he indicated with his delicate fingers what he meant by a pinch.\ +\ +"Dere has neffer been a gase," a German doctor was saying to an aide-de-\ +camp, "dat one liffs after de sird stroke."\ +\ +"And what a well-preserved man he was!" remarked the aide-de-camp. "And\ +who will inherit his wealth?" he added in a whisper.\ +\ +"It von't go begging," replied the German with a smile.\ +\ +Everyone again looked toward the door, which creaked as the second\ +princess went in with the drink she had prepared according to Lorrain's\ +instructions. The German doctor went up to Lorrain.\ +\ +"Do you think he can last till morning?" asked the German, addressing\ +Lorrain in French which he pronounced badly.\ +\ +Lorrain, pursing up his lips, waved a severely negative finger before\ +his nose.\ +\ +"Tonight, not later," said he in a low voice, and he moved away with a\ +decorous smile of self-satisfaction at being able clearly to understand\ +and state the patient's condition.\ +\ +Meanwhile Prince Vasili had opened the door into the princess' room.\ +\ +In this room it was almost dark; only two tiny lamps were burning before\ +the icons and there was a pleasant scent of flowers and burnt pastilles.\ +The room was crowded with small pieces of furniture, whatnots,\ +cupboards, and little tables. The quilt of a high, white feather bed was\ +just visible behind a screen. A small dog began to bark.\ +\ +"Ah, is it you, cousin?"\ +\ +She rose and smoothed her hair, which was as usual so extremely smooth\ +that it seemed to be made of one piece with her head and covered with\ +varnish.\ +\ +"Has anything happened?" she asked. "I am so terrified."\ +\ +"No, there is no change. I only came to have a talk about business,\ +Catiche," * muttered the prince, seating himself wearily on the chair\ +she had just vacated. "You have made the place warm, I must say," he\ +remarked. "Well, sit down: let's have a talk."\ +\ +\ +*Catherine.\ +\ +"I thought perhaps something had happened," she said with her unchanging\ +stonily severe expression; and, sitting down opposite the prince, she\ +prepared to listen.\ +\ +"I wished to get a nap, mon cousin, but I can't."\ +\ +"Well, my dear?" said Prince Vasili, taking her hand and bending it\ +downwards as was his habit.\ +\ +It was plain that this "well?" referred to much that they both\ +understood without naming.\ +\ +The princess, who had a straight, rigid body, abnormally long for her\ +legs, looked directly at Prince Vasili with no sign of emotion in her\ +prominent gray eyes. Then she shook her head and glanced up at the icons\ +with a sigh. This might have been taken as an expression of sorrow and\ +devotion, or of weariness and hope of resting before long. Prince Vasili\ +understood it as an expression of weariness.\ +\ +"And I?" he said; "do you think it is easier for me? I am as worn out as\ +a post horse, but still I must have a talk with you, Catiche, a very\ +serious talk."\ +\ +Prince Vasili said no more and his cheeks began to twitch nervously, now\ +on one side, now on the other, giving his face an unpleasant expression\ +which was never to be seen on it in a drawing room. His eyes too seemed\ +strange; at one moment they looked impudently sly and at the next\ +glanced round in alarm.\ +\ +The princess, holding her little dog on her lap with her thin bony\ +hands, looked attentively into Prince Vasili's eyes evidently resolved\ +not to be the first to break silence, if she had to wait till morning.\ +\ +"Well, you see, my dear princess and cousin, Catherine Semenovna,"\ +continued Prince Vasili, returning to his theme, apparently not without\ +an inner struggle; "at such a moment as this one must think of\ +everything. One must think of the future, of all of you... I love you\ +all, like children of my own, as you know."\ +\ +The princess continued to look at him without moving, and with the same\ +dull expression.\ +\ +"And then of course my family has also to be considered," Prince Vasili\ +went on, testily pushing away a little table without looking at her.\ +"You know, Catiche, that we--you three sisters, Mamontov, and my wife--\ +are the count's only direct heirs. I know, I know how hard it is for you\ +to talk or think of such matters. It is no easier for me; but, my dear,\ +I am getting on for sixty and must be prepared for anything. Do you know\ +I have sent for Pierre? The count," pointing to his portrait,\ +"definitely demanded that he should be called."\ +\ +Prince Vasili looked questioningly at the princess, but could not make\ +out whether she was considering what he had just said or whether she was\ +simply looking at him.\ +\ +"There is one thing I constantly pray God to grant, mon cousin," she\ +replied, "and it is that He would be merciful to him and would allow his\ +noble soul peacefully to leave this..."\ +\ +"Yes, yes, of course," interrupted Prince Vasili impatiently, rubbing\ +his bald head and angrily pulling back toward him the little table that\ +he had pushed away. "But... in short, the fact is... you know yourself\ +that last winter the count made a will by which he left all his\ +property, not to us his direct heirs, but to Pierre."\ +\ +"He has made wills enough!" quietly remarked the princess. "But he\ +cannot leave the estate to Pierre. Pierre is illegitimate."\ +\ +"But, my dear," said Prince Vasili suddenly, clutching the little table\ +and becoming more animated and talking more rapidly: "what if a letter\ +has been written to the Emperor in which the count asks for Pierre's\ +legitimation? Do you understand that in consideration of the count's\ +services, his request would be granted?..."\ +\ +The princess smiled as people do who think they know more about the\ +subject under discussion than those they are talking with.\ +\ +"I can tell you more," continued Prince Vasili, seizing her hand, "that\ +letter was written, though it was not sent, and the Emperor knew of it.\ +The only question is, has it been destroyed or not? If not, then as soon\ +as all is over," and Prince Vasili sighed to intimate what he meant by\ +the words all is over, "and the count's papers are opened, the will and\ +letter will be delivered to the Emperor, and the petition will certainly\ +be granted. Pierre will get everything as the legitimate son."\ +\ +"And our share?" asked the princess smiling ironically, as if anything\ +might happen, only not that.\ +\ +"But, my poor Catiche, it is as clear as daylight! He will then be the\ +legal heir to everything and you won't get anything. You must know, my\ +dear, whether the will and letter were written, and whether they have\ +been destroyed or not. And if they have somehow been overlooked, you\ +ought to know where they are, and must find them, because..."\ +\ +"What next?" the princess interrupted, smiling sardonically and not\ +changing the expression of her eyes. "I am a woman, and you think we are\ +all stupid; but I know this: an illegitimate son cannot inherit... un\ +batard!" * she added, as if supposing that this translation of the word\ +would effectively prove to Prince Vasili the invalidity of his\ +contention.\ +\ +\ +* A bastard.\ +\ +"Well, really, Catiche! Can't you understand! You are so intelligent,\ +how is it you don't see that if the count has written a letter to the\ +Emperor begging him to recognize Pierre as legitimate, it follows that\ +Pierre will not be Pierre but will become Count Bezukhov, and will then\ +inherit everything under the will? And if the will and letter are not\ +destroyed, then you will have nothing but the consolation of having been\ +dutiful et tout ce qui s'ensuit! * That's certain."\ +\ +\ +* And all that follows therefrom.\ +\ +"I know the will was made, but I also know that it is invalid; and you,\ +mon cousin, seem to consider me a perfect fool," said the princess with\ +the expression women assume when they suppose they are saying something\ +witty and stinging.\ +\ +"My dear Princess Catherine Semenovna," began Prince Vasili impatiently,\ +"I came here not to wrangle with you, but to talk about your interests\ +as with a kinswoman, a good, kind, true relation. And I tell you for the\ +tenth time that if the letter to the Emperor and the will in Pierre's\ +favor are among the count's papers, then, my dear girl, you and your\ +sisters are not heiresses! If you don't believe me, then believe an\ +expert. I have just been talking to Dmitri Onufrich" (the family\ +solicitor) "and he says the same."\ +\ +At this a sudden change evidently took place in the princess' ideas; her\ +thin lips grew white, though her eyes did not change, and her voice when\ +she began to speak passed through such transitions as she herself\ +evidently did not expect.\ +\ +"That would be a fine thing!" said she. "I never wanted anything and I\ +don't now."\ +\ +She pushed the little dog off her lap and smoothed her dress.\ +\ +"And this is gratitude--this is recognition for those who have\ +sacrificed everything for his sake!" she cried. "It's splendid! Fine! I\ +don't want anything, Prince."\ +\ +"Yes, but you are not the only one. There are your sisters..." replied\ +Prince Vasili.\ +\ +But the princess did not listen to him.\ +\ +"Yes, I knew it long ago but had forgotten. I knew that I could expect\ +nothing but meanness, deceit, envy, intrigue, and ingratitude--the\ +blackest ingratitude--in this house..."\ +\ +"Do you or do you not know where that will is?" insisted Prince Vasili,\ +his cheeks twitching more than ever.\ +\ +"Yes, I was a fool! I still believed in people, loved them, and\ +sacrificed myself. But only the base, the vile succeed! I know who has\ +been intriguing!"\ +\ +The princess wished to rise, but the prince held her by the hand. She\ +had the air of one who has suddenly lost faith in the whole human race.\ +She gave her companion an angry glance.\ +\ +"There is still time, my dear. You must remember, Catiche, that it was\ +all done casually in a moment of anger, of illness, and was afterwards\ +forgotten. Our duty, my dear, is to rectify his mistake, to ease his\ +last moments by not letting him commit this injustice, and not to let\ +him die feeling that he is rendering unhappy those who..."\ +\ +"Who sacrificed everything for him," chimed in the princess, who would\ +again have risen had not the prince still held her fast, "though he\ +never could appreciate it. No, mon cousin," she added with a sigh, "I\ +shall always remember that in this world one must expect no reward, that\ +in this world there is neither honor nor justice. In this world one has\ +to be cunning and cruel."\ +\ +"Now come, come! Be reasonable. I know your excellent heart."\ +\ +"No, I have a wicked heart."\ +\ +"I know your heart," repeated the prince. "I value your friendship and\ +wish you to have as good an opinion of me. Don't upset yourself, and let\ +us talk sensibly while there is still time, be it a day or be it but an\ +hour.... Tell me all you know about the will, and above all where it is.\ +You must know. We will take it at once and show it to the count. He has,\ +no doubt, forgotten it and will wish to destroy it. You understand that\ +my sole desire is conscientiously to carry out his wishes; that is my\ +only reason for being here. I came simply to help him and you."\ +\ +"Now I see it all! I know who has been intriguing--I know!" cried the\ +princess.\ +\ +"That's not the point, my dear."\ +\ +"It's that protege of yours, that sweet Princess Drubetskaya, that Anna\ +Mikhaylovna whom I would not take for a housemaid... the infamous, vile\ +woman!"\ +\ +"Do not let us lose any time..."\ +\ +"Ah, don't talk to me! Last winter she wheedled herself in here and told\ +the count such vile, disgraceful things about us, especially about\ +Sophie--I can't repeat them--that it made the count quite ill and he\ +would not see us for a whole fortnight. I know it was then he wrote this\ +vile, infamous paper, but I thought the thing was invalid."\ +\ +"We've got to it at last--why did you not tell me about it sooner?"\ +\ +"It's in the inlaid portfolio that he keeps under his pillow," said the\ +princess, ignoring his question. "Now I know! Yes; if I have a sin, a\ +great sin, it is hatred of that vile woman!" almost shrieked the\ +princess, now quite changed. "And what does she come worming herself in\ +here for? But I will give her a piece of my mind. The time will come!"\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XXII\ +\ +While these conversations were going on in the reception room and the\ +princess' room, a carriage containing Pierre (who had been sent for) and\ +Anna Mikhaylovna (who found it necessary to accompany him) was driving\ +into the court of Count Bezukhov's house. As the wheels rolled softly\ +over the straw beneath the windows, Anna Mikhaylovna, having turned with\ +words of comfort to her companion, realized that he was asleep in his\ +corner and woke him up. Rousing himself, Pierre followed Anna\ +Mikhaylovna out of the carriage, and only then began to think of the\ +interview with his dying father which awaited him. He noticed that they\ +had not come to the front entrance but to the back door. While he was\ +getting down from the carriage steps two men, who looked like\ +tradespeople, ran hurriedly from the entrance and hid in the shadow of\ +the wall. Pausing for a moment, Pierre noticed several other men of the\ +same kind hiding in the shadow of the house on both sides. But neither\ +Anna Mikhaylovna nor the footman nor the coachman, who could not help\ +seeing these people, took any notice of them. "It seems to be all\ +right," Pierre concluded, and followed Anna Mikhaylovna. She hurriedly\ +ascended the narrow dimly lit stone staircase, calling to Pierre, who\ +was lagging behind, to follow. Though he did not see why it was\ +necessary for him to go to the count at all, still less why he had to go\ +by the back stairs, yet judging by Anna Mikhaylovna's air of assurance\ +and haste, Pierre concluded that it was all absolutely necessary.\ +Halfway up the stairs they were almost knocked over by some men who,\ +carrying pails, came running downstairs, their boots clattering. These\ +men pressed close to the wall to let Pierre and Anna Mikhaylovna pass\ +and did not evince the least surprise at seeing them there.\ +\ +"Is this the way to the princesses' apartments?" asked Anna Mikhaylovna\ +of one of them.\ +\ +"Yes," replied a footman in a bold loud voice, as if anything were now\ +permissible; "the door to the left, ma'am."\ +\ +"Perhaps the count did not ask for me," said Pierre when he reached the\ +landing. "I'd better go to my own room."\ +\ +Anna Mikhaylovna paused and waited for him to come up.\ +\ +"Ah, my friend!" she said, touching his arm as she had done her son's\ +when speaking to him that afternoon, "believe me I suffer no less than\ +you do, but be a man!"\ +\ +"But really, hadn't I better go away?" he asked, looking kindly at her\ +over his spectacles.\ +\ +"Ah, my dear friend! Forget the wrongs that may have been done you.\ +Think that he is your father... perhaps in the agony of death." She\ +sighed. "I have loved you like a son from the first. Trust yourself to\ +me, Pierre. I shall not forget your interests."\ +\ +Pierre did not understand a word, but the conviction that all this had\ +to be grew stronger, and he meekly followed Anna Mikhaylovna who was\ +already opening a door.\ +\ +This door led into a back anteroom. An old man, a servant of the\ +princesses, sat in a corner knitting a stocking. Pierre had never been\ +in this part of the house and did not even know of the existence of\ +these rooms. Anna Mikhaylovna, addressing a maid who was hurrying past\ +with a decanter on a tray as "my dear" and "my sweet," asked about the\ +princess' health and then led Pierre along a stone passage. The first\ +door on the left led into the princesses' apartments. The maid with the\ +decanter in her haste had not closed the door (everything in the house\ +was done in haste at that time), and Pierre and Anna Mikhaylovna in\ +passing instinctively glanced into the room, where Prince Vasili and the\ +eldest princess were sitting close together talking. Seeing them pass,\ +Prince Vasili drew back with obvious impatience, while the princess\ +jumped up and with a gesture of desperation slammed the door with all\ +her might.\ +\ +This action was so unlike her usual composure and the fear depicted on\ +Prince Vasili's face so out of keeping with his dignity that Pierre\ +stopped and glanced inquiringly over his spectacles at his guide. Anna\ +Mikhaylovna evinced no surprise, she only smiled faintly and sighed, as\ +if to say that this was no more than she had expected.\ +\ +"Be a man, my friend. I will look after your interests," said she in\ +reply to his look, and went still faster along the passage.\ +\ +Pierre could not make out what it was all about, and still less what\ +"watching over his interests" meant, but he decided that all these\ +things had to be. From the passage they went into a large, dimly lit\ +room adjoining the count's reception room. It was one of those sumptuous\ +but cold apartments known to Pierre only from the front approach, but\ +even in this room there now stood an empty bath, and water had been\ +spilled on the carpet. They were met by a deacon with a censer and by a\ +servant who passed out on tiptoe without heeding them. They went into\ +the reception room familiar to Pierre, with two Italian windows opening\ +into the conservatory, with its large bust and full length portrait of\ +Catherine the Great. The same people were still sitting here in almost\ +the same positions as before, whispering to one another. All became\ +silent and turned to look at the pale tear-worn Anna Mikhaylovna as she\ +entered, and at the big stout figure of Pierre who, hanging his head,\ +meekly followed her.\ +\ +Anna Mikhaylovna's face expressed a consciousness that the decisive\ +moment had arrived. With the air of a practical Petersburg lady she now,\ +keeping Pierre close beside her, entered the room even more boldly than\ +that afternoon. She felt that as she brought with her the person the\ +dying man wished to see, her own admission was assured. Casting a rapid\ +glance at all those in the room and noticing the count's confessor\ +there, she glided up to him with a sort of amble, not exactly bowing yet\ +seeming to grow suddenly smaller, and respectfully received the blessing\ +first of one and then of another priest.\ +\ +"God be thanked that you are in time," said she to one of the priests;\ +"all we relatives have been in such anxiety. This young man is the\ +count's son," she added more softly. "What a terrible moment!"\ +\ +Having said this she went up to the doctor.\ +\ +"Dear doctor," said she, "this young man is the count's son. Is there\ +any hope?"\ +\ +The doctor cast a rapid glance upwards and silently shrugged his\ +shoulders. Anna Mikhaylovna with just the same movement raised her\ +shoulders and eyes, almost closing the latter, sighed, and moved away\ +from the doctor to Pierre. To him, in a particularly respectful and\ +tenderly sad voice, she said:\ +\ +"Trust in His mercy!" and pointing out a small sofa for him to sit and\ +wait for her, she went silently toward the door that everyone was\ +watching and it creaked very slightly as she disappeared behind it.\ +\ +Pierre, having made up his mind to obey his monitress implicitly, moved\ +toward the sofa she had indicated. As soon as Anna Mikhaylovna had\ +disappeared he noticed that the eyes of all in the room turned to him\ +with something more than curiosity and sympathy. He noticed that they\ +whispered to one another, casting significant looks at him with a kind\ +of awe and even servility. A deference such as he had never before\ +received was shown him. A strange lady, the one who had been talking to\ +the priests, rose and offered him her seat; an aide-de-camp picked up\ +and returned a glove Pierre had dropped; the doctors became respectfully\ +silent as he passed by, and moved to make way for him. At first Pierre\ +wished to take another seat so as not to trouble the lady, and also to\ +pick up the glove himself and to pass round the doctors who were not\ +even in his way; but all at once he felt that this would not do, and\ +that tonight he was a person obliged to perform some sort of awful rite\ +which everyone expected of him, and that he was therefore bound to\ +accept their services. He took the glove in silence from the aide-de-\ +camp, and sat down in the lady's chair, placing his huge hands\ +symmetrically on his knees in the naive attitude of an Egyptian statue,\ +and decided in his own mind that all was as it should be, and that in\ +order not to lose his head and do foolish things he must not act on his\ +own ideas tonight, but must yield himself up entirely to the will of\ +those who were guiding him.\ +\ +Not two minutes had passed before Prince Vasili with head erect\ +majestically entered the room. He was wearing his long coat with three\ +stars on his breast. He seemed to have grown thinner since the morning;\ +his eyes seemed larger than usual when he glanced round and noticed\ +Pierre. He went up to him, took his hand (a thing he never used to do),\ +and drew it downwards as if wishing to ascertain whether it was firmly\ +fixed on.\ +\ +"Courage, courage, my friend! He has asked to see you. That is well!"\ +and he turned to go.\ +\ +But Pierre thought it necessary to ask: "How is..." and hesitated, not\ +knowing whether it would be proper to call the dying man "the count,"\ +yet ashamed to call him "father."\ +\ +"He had another stroke about half an hour ago. Courage, my friend..."\ +\ +Pierre's mind was in such a confused state that the word "stroke"\ +suggested to him a blow from something. He looked at Prince Vasili in\ +perplexity, and only later grasped that a stroke was an attack of\ +illness. Prince Vasili said something to Lorrain in passing and went\ +through the door on tiptoe. He could not walk well on tiptoe and his\ +whole body jerked at each step. The eldest princess followed him, and\ +the priests and deacons and some servants also went in at the door.\ +Through that door was heard a noise of things being moved about, and at\ +last Anna Mikhaylovna, still with the same expression, pale but resolute\ +in the discharge of duty, ran out and touching Pierre lightly on the arm\ +said:\ +\ +"The divine mercy is inexhaustible! Unction is about to be administered.\ +Come."\ +\ +Pierre went in at the door, stepping on the soft carpet, and noticed\ +that the strange lady, the aide-de-camp, and some of the servants, all\ +followed him in, as if there were now no further need for permission to\ +enter that room.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XXIII\ +\ +Pierre well knew this large room divided by columns and an arch, its\ +walls hung round with Persian carpets. The part of the room behind the\ +columns, with a high silk-curtained mahogany bedstead on one side and on\ +the other an immense case containing icons, was brightly illuminated\ +with red light like a Russian church during evening service. Under the\ +gleaming icons stood a long invalid chair, and in that chair on snowy-\ +white smooth pillows, evidently freshly changed, Pierre saw--covered to\ +the waist by a bright green quilt--the familiar, majestic figure of his\ +father, Count Bezukhov, with that gray mane of hair above his broad\ +forehead which reminded one of a lion, and the deep characteristically\ +noble wrinkles of his handsome, ruddy face. He lay just under the icons;\ +his large thick hands outside the quilt. Into the right hand, which was\ +lying palm downwards, a wax taper had been thrust between forefinger and\ +thumb, and an old servant, bending over from behind the chair, held it\ +in position. By the chair stood the priests, their long hair falling\ +over their magnificent glittering vestments, with lighted tapers in\ +their hands, slowly and solemnly conducting the service. A little behind\ +them stood the two younger princesses holding handkerchiefs to their\ +eyes, and just in front of them their eldest sister, Catiche, with a\ +vicious and determined look steadily fixed on the icons, as though\ +declaring to all that she could not answer for herself should she glance\ +round. Anna Mikhaylovna, with a meek, sorrowful, and all-forgiving\ +expression on her face, stood by the door near the strange lady. Prince\ +Vasili in front of the door, near the invalid chair, a wax taper in his\ +left hand, was leaning his left arm on the carved back of a velvet chair\ +he had turned round for the purpose, and was crossing himself with his\ +right hand, turning his eyes upward each time he touched his forehead.\ +His face wore a calm look of piety and resignation to the will of God.\ +"If you do not understand these sentiments," he seemed to be saying, "so\ +much the worse for you!"\ +\ +Behind him stood the aide-de-camp, the doctors, and the menservants; the\ +men and women had separated as in church. All were silently crossing\ +themselves, and the reading of the church service, the subdued chanting\ +of deep bass voices, and in the intervals sighs and the shuffling of\ +feet were the only sounds that could be heard. Anna Mikhaylovna, with an\ +air of importance that showed that she felt she quite knew what she was\ +about, went across the room to where Pierre was standing and gave him a\ +taper. He lit it and, distracted by observing those around him, began\ +crossing himself with the hand that held the taper.\ +\ +Sophie, the rosy, laughter-loving, youngest princess with the mole,\ +watched him. She smiled, hid her face in her handkerchief, and remained\ +with it hidden for awhile; then looking up and seeing Pierre she again\ +began to laugh. She evidently felt unable to look at him without\ +laughing, but could not resist looking at him: so to be out of\ +temptation she slipped quietly behind one of the columns. In the midst\ +of the service the voices of the priests suddenly ceased, they whispered\ +to one another, and the old servant who was holding the count's hand got\ +up and said something to the ladies. Anna Mikhaylovna stepped forward\ +and, stooping over the dying man, beckoned to Lorrain from behind her\ +back. The French doctor held no taper; he was leaning against one of the\ +columns in a respectful attitude implying that he, a foreigner, in spite\ +of all differences of faith, understood the full importance of the rite\ +now being performed and even approved of it. He now approached the sick\ +man with the noiseless step of one in full vigor of life, with his\ +delicate white fingers raised from the green quilt the hand that was\ +free, and turning sideways felt the pulse and reflected a moment. The\ +sick man was given something to drink, there was a stir around him, then\ +the people resumed their places and the service continued. During this\ +interval Pierre noticed that Prince Vasili left the chair on which he\ +had been leaning, and--with an air which intimated that he knew what he\ +was about and if others did not understand him it was so much the worse\ +for them--did not go up to the dying man, but passed by him, joined the\ +eldest princess, and moved with her to the side of the room where stood\ +the high bedstead with its silken hangings. On leaving the bed both\ +Prince Vasili and the princess passed out by a back door, but returned\ +to their places one after the other before the service was concluded.\ +Pierre paid no more attention to this occurrence than to the rest of\ +what went on, having made up his mind once for all that what he saw\ +happening around him that evening was in some way essential.\ +\ +The chanting of the service ceased, and the voice of the priest was\ +heard respectfully congratulating the dying man on having received the\ +sacrament. The dying man lay as lifeless and immovable as before. Around\ +him everyone began to stir: steps were audible and whispers, among which\ +Anna Mikhaylovna's was the most distinct.\ +\ +Pierre heard her say:\ +\ +"Certainly he must be moved onto the bed; here it will be impossible..."\ +\ +The sick man was so surrounded by doctors, princesses, and servants that\ +Pierre could no longer see the reddish-yellow face with its gray mane--\ +which, though he saw other faces as well, he had not lost sight of for a\ +single moment during the whole service. He judged by the cautious\ +movements of those who crowded round the invalid chair that they had\ +lifted the dying man and were moving him.\ +\ +"Catch hold of my arm or you'll drop him!" he heard one of the servants\ +say in a frightened whisper. "Catch hold from underneath. Here!"\ +exclaimed different voices; and the heavy breathing of the bearers and\ +the shuffling of their feet grew more hurried, as if the weight they\ +were carrying were too much for them.\ +\ +As the bearers, among whom was Anna Mikhaylovna, passed the young man he\ +caught a momentary glimpse between their heads and backs of the dying\ +man's high, stout, uncovered chest and powerful shoulders, raised by\ +those who were holding him under the armpits, and of his gray, curly,\ +leonine head. This head, with its remarkably broad brow and cheekbones,\ +its handsome, sensual mouth, and its cold, majestic expression, was not\ +disfigured by the approach of death. It was the same as Pierre\ +remembered it three months before, when the count had sent him to\ +Petersburg. But now this head was swaying helplessly with the uneven\ +movements of the bearers, and the cold listless gaze fixed itself upon\ +nothing.\ +\ +After a few minutes' bustle beside the high bedstead, those who had\ +carried the sick man dispersed. Anna Mikhaylovna touched Pierre's hand\ +and said, "Come." Pierre went with her to the bed on which the sick man\ +had been laid in a stately pose in keeping with the ceremony just\ +completed. He lay with his head propped high on the pillows. His hands\ +were symmetrically placed on the green silk quilt, the palms downward.\ +When Pierre came up the count was gazing straight at him, but with a\ +look the significance of which could not be understood by mortal man.\ +Either this look meant nothing but that as long as one has eyes they\ +must look somewhere, or it meant too much. Pierre hesitated, not knowing\ +what to do, and glanced inquiringly at his guide. Anna Mikhaylovna made\ +a hurried sign with her eyes, glancing at the sick man's hand and moving\ +her lips as if to send it a kiss. Pierre, carefully stretching his neck\ +so as not to touch the quilt, followed her suggestion and pressed his\ +lips to the large boned, fleshy hand. Neither the hand nor a single\ +muscle of the count's face stirred. Once more Pierre looked\ +questioningly at Anna Mikhaylovna to see what he was to do next. Anna\ +Mikhaylovna with her eyes indicated a chair that stood beside the bed.\ +Pierre obediently sat down, his eyes asking if he were doing right. Anna\ +Mikhaylovna nodded approvingly. Again Pierre fell into the naively\ +symmetrical pose of an Egyptian statue, evidently distressed that his\ +stout and clumsy body took up so much room and doing his utmost to look\ +as small as possible. He looked at the count, who still gazed at the\ +spot where Pierre's face had been before he sat down. Anna Mikhaylovna\ +indicated by her attitude her consciousness of the pathetic importance\ +of these last moments of meeting between the father and son. This lasted\ +about two minutes, which to Pierre seemed an hour. Suddenly the broad\ +muscles and lines of the count's face began to twitch. The twitching\ +increased, the handsome mouth was drawn to one side (only now did Pierre\ +realize how near death his father was), and from that distorted mouth\ +issued an indistinct, hoarse sound. Anna Mikhaylovna looked attentively\ +at the sick man's eyes, trying to guess what he wanted; she pointed\ +first to Pierre, then to some drink, then named Prince Vasili in an\ +inquiring whisper, then pointed to the quilt. The eyes and face of the\ +sick man showed impatience. He made an effort to look at the servant who\ +stood constantly at the head of the bed.\ +\ +"Wants to turn on the other side," whispered the servant, and got up to\ +turn the count's heavy body toward the wall.\ +\ +Pierre rose to help him.\ +\ +While the count was being turned over, one of his arms fell back\ +helplessly and he made a fruitless effort to pull it forward. Whether he\ +noticed the look of terror with which Pierre regarded that lifeless arm,\ +or whether some other thought flitted across his dying brain, at any\ +rate he glanced at the refractory arm, at Pierre's terror-stricken face,\ +and again at the arm, and on his face a feeble, piteous smile appeared,\ +quite out of keeping with his features, that seemed to deride his own\ +helplessness. At sight of this smile Pierre felt an unexpected quivering\ +in his breast and a tickling in his nose, and tears dimmed his eyes. The\ +sick man was turned on to his side with his face to the wall. He sighed.\ +\ +"He is dozing," said Anna Mikhaylovna, observing that one of the\ +princesses was coming to take her turn at watching. "Let us go."\ +\ +Pierre went out.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XXIV\ +\ +There was now no one in the reception room except Prince Vasili and the\ +eldest princess, who were sitting under the portrait of Catherine the\ +Great and talking eagerly. As soon as they saw Pierre and his companion\ +they became silent, and Pierre thought he saw the princess hide\ +something as she whispered:\ +\ +"I can't bear the sight of that woman."\ +\ +"Catiche has had tea served in the small drawing room," said Prince\ +Vasili to Anna Mikhaylovna. "Go and take something, my poor Anna\ +Mikhaylovna, or you will not hold out."\ +\ +To Pierre he said nothing, merely giving his arm a sympathetic squeeze\ +below the shoulder. Pierre went with Anna Mikhaylovna into the small\ +drawing room.\ +\ +"There is nothing so refreshing after a sleepless night as a cup of this\ +delicious Russian tea," Lorrain was saying with an air of restrained\ +animation as he stood sipping tea from a delicate Chinese handleless cup\ +before a table on which tea and a cold supper were laid in the small\ +circular room. Around the table all who were at Count Bezukhov's house\ +that night had gathered to fortify themselves. Pierre well remembered\ +this small circular drawing room with its mirrors and little tables.\ +During balls given at the house Pierre, who did not know how to dance,\ +had liked sitting in this room to watch the ladies who, as they passed\ +through in their ball dresses with diamonds and pearls on their bare\ +shoulders, looked at themselves in the brilliantly lighted mirrors which\ +repeated their reflections several times. Now this same room was dimly\ +lighted by two candles. On one small table tea things and supper dishes\ +stood in disorder, and in the middle of the night a motley throng of\ +people sat there, not merrymaking, but somberly whispering, and\ +betraying by every word and movement that they none of them forgot what\ +was happening and what was about to happen in the bedroom. Pierre did\ +not eat anything though he would very much have liked to. He looked\ +inquiringly at his monitress and saw that she was again going on tiptoe\ +to the reception room where they had left Prince Vasili and the eldest\ +princess. Pierre concluded that this also was essential, and after a\ +short interval followed her. Anna Mikhaylovna was standing beside the\ +princess, and they were both speaking in excited whispers.\ +\ +"Permit me, Princess, to know what is necessary and what is not\ +necessary," said the younger of the two speakers, evidently in the same\ +state of excitement as when she had slammed the door of her room.\ +\ +"But, my dear princess," answered Anna Mikhaylovna blandly but\ +impressively, blocking the way to the bedroom and preventing the other\ +from passing, "won't this be too much for poor Uncle at a moment when he\ +needs repose? Worldly conversation at a moment when his soul is already\ +prepared..."\ +\ +Prince Vasili was seated in an easy chair in his familiar attitude, with\ +one leg crossed high above the other. His cheeks, which were so flabby\ +that they looked heavier below, were twitching violently; but he wore\ +the air of a man little concerned in what the two ladies were saying.\ +\ +"Come, my dear Anna Mikhaylovna, let Catiche do as she pleases. You know\ +how fond the count is of her."\ +\ +"I don't even know what is in this paper," said the younger of the two\ +ladies, addressing Prince Vasili and pointing to an inlaid portfolio she\ +held in her hand. "All I know is that his real will is in his writing\ +table, and this is a paper he has forgotten...."\ +\ +She tried to pass Anna Mikhaylovna, but the latter sprang so as to bar\ +her path.\ +\ +"I know, my dear, kind princess," said Anna Mikhaylovna, seizing the\ +portfolio so firmly that it was plain she would not let go easily. "Dear\ +princess, I beg and implore you, have some pity on him! Je vous en\ +conjure..."\ +\ +The princess did not reply. Their efforts in the struggle for the\ +portfolio were the only sounds audible, but it was evident that if the\ +princess did speak, her words would not be flattering to Anna\ +Mikhaylovna. Though the latter held on tenaciously, her voice lost none\ +of its honeyed firmness and softness.\ +\ +"Pierre, my dear, come here. I think he will not be out of place in a\ +family consultation; is it not so, Prince?"\ +\ +"Why don't you speak, cousin?" suddenly shrieked the princess so loud\ +that those in the drawing room heard her and were startled. "Why do you\ +remain silent when heaven knows who permits herself to interfere, making\ +a scene on the very threshold of a dying man's room? Intriguer!" she\ +hissed viciously, and tugged with all her might at the portfolio.\ +\ +But Anna Mikhaylovna went forward a step or two to keep her hold on the\ +portfolio, and changed her grip.\ +\ +Prince Vasili rose. "Oh!" said he with reproach and surprise, "this is\ +absurd! Come, let go I tell you."\ +\ +The princess let go.\ +\ +"And you too!"\ +\ +But Anna Mikhaylovna did not obey him.\ +\ +"Let go, I tell you! I will take the responsibility. I myself will go\ +and ask him, I!... does that satisfy you?"\ +\ +"But, Prince," said Anna Mikhaylovna, "after such a solemn sacrament,\ +allow him a moment's peace! Here, Pierre, tell them your opinion," said\ +she, turning to the young man who, having come quite close, was gazing\ +with astonishment at the angry face of the princess which had lost all\ +dignity, and at the twitching cheeks of Prince Vasili.\ +\ +"Remember that you will answer for the consequences," said Prince Vasili\ +severely. "You don't know what you are doing."\ +\ +"Vile woman!" shouted the princess, darting unexpectedly at Anna\ +Mikhaylovna and snatching the portfolio from her.\ +\ +Prince Vasili bent his head and spread out his hands.\ +\ +At this moment that terrible door, which Pierre had watched so long and\ +which had always opened so quietly, burst noisily open and banged\ +against the wall, and the second of the three sisters rushed out\ +wringing her hands.\ +\ +"What are you doing!" she cried vehemently. "He is dying and you leave\ +me alone with him!"\ +\ +Her sister dropped the portfolio. Anna Mikhaylovna, stooping, quickly\ +caught up the object of contention and ran into the bedroom. The eldest\ +princess and Prince Vasili, recovering themselves, followed her. A few\ +minutes later the eldest sister came out with a pale hard face, again\ +biting her underlip. At sight of Pierre her expression showed an\ +irrepressible hatred.\ +\ +"Yes, now you may be glad!" said she; "this is what you have been\ +waiting for." And bursting into tears she hid her face in her\ +handkerchief and rushed from the room.\ +\ +Prince Vasili came next. He staggered to the sofa on which Pierre was\ +sitting and dropped onto it, covering his face with his hand. Pierre\ +noticed that he was pale and that his jaw quivered and shook as if in an\ +ague.\ +\ +"Ah, my friend!" said he, taking Pierre by the elbow; and there was in\ +his voice a sincerity and weakness Pierre had never observed in it\ +before. "How often we sin, how much we deceive, and all for what? I am\ +near sixty, dear friend... I too... All will end in death, all! Death is\ +awful..." and he burst into tears.\ +\ +Anna Mikhaylovna came out last. She approached Pierre with slow, quiet\ +steps.\ +\ +"Pierre!" she said.\ +\ +Pierre gave her an inquiring look. She kissed the young man on his\ +forehead, wetting him with her tears. Then after a pause she said:\ +\ +"He is no more...."\ +\ +Pierre looked at her over his spectacles.\ +\ +"Come, I will go with you. Try to weep, nothing gives such relief as\ +tears."\ +\ +She led him into the dark drawing room and Pierre was glad no one could\ +see his face. Anna Mikhaylovna left him, and when she returned he was\ +fast asleep with his head on his arm.\ +\ +In the morning Anna Mikhaylovna said to Pierre:\ +\ +"Yes, my dear, this is a great loss for us all, not to speak of you. But\ +God will support you: you are young, and are now, I hope, in command of\ +an immense fortune. The will has not yet been opened. I know you well\ +enough to be sure that this will not turn your head, but it imposes\ +duties on you, and you must be a man."\ +\ +Pierre was silent.\ +\ +"Perhaps later on I may tell you, my dear boy, that if I had not been\ +there, God only knows what would have happened! You know, Uncle promised\ +me only the day before yesterday not to forget Boris. But he had no\ +time. I hope, my dear friend, you will carry out your father's wish?"\ +\ +Pierre understood nothing of all this and coloring shyly looked in\ +silence at Princess Anna Mikhaylovna. After her talk with Pierre, Anna\ +Mikhaylovna returned to the Rostovs' and went to bed. On waking in the\ +morning she told the Rostovs and all her acquaintances the details of\ +Count Bezukhov's death. She said the count had died as she would herself\ +wish to die, that his end was not only touching but edifying. As to the\ +last meeting between father and son, it was so touching that she could\ +not think of it without tears, and did not know which had behaved better\ +during those awful moments--the father who so remembered everything and\ +everybody at last and had spoken such pathetic words to the son, or\ +Pierre, whom it had been pitiful to see, so stricken was he with grief,\ +though he tried hard to hide it in order not to sadden his dying father.\ +"It is painful, but it does one good. It uplifts the soul to see such\ +men as the old count and his worthy son," said she. Of the behavior of\ +the eldest princess and Prince Vasili she spoke disapprovingly, but in\ +whispers and as a great secret.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XXV\ +\ +At Bald Hills, Prince Nicholas Andreevich Bolkonski's estate, the\ +arrival of young Prince Andrew and his wife was daily expected, but this\ +expectation did not upset the regular routine of life in the old\ +prince's household. General in Chief Prince Nicholas Andreevich\ +(nicknamed in society, "the King of Prussia") ever since the Emperor\ +Paul had exiled him to his country estate had lived there continuously\ +with his daughter, Princess Mary, and her companion, Mademoiselle\ +Bourienne. Though in the new reign he was free to return to the\ +capitals, he still continued to live in the country, remarking that\ +anyone who wanted to see him could come the hundred miles from Moscow to\ +Bald Hills, while he himself needed no one and nothing. He used to say\ +that there are only two sources of human vice--idleness and\ +superstition, and only two virtues--activity and intelligence. He\ +himself undertook his daughter's education, and to develop these two\ +cardinal virtues in her gave her lessons in algebra and geometry till\ +she was twenty, and arranged her life so that her whole time was\ +occupied. He was himself always occupied: writing his memoirs, solving\ +problems in higher mathematics, turning snuffboxes on a lathe, working\ +in the garden, or superintending the building that was always going on\ +at his estate. As regularity is a prime condition facilitating activity,\ +regularity in his household was carried to the highest point of\ +exactitude. He always came to table under precisely the same conditions,\ +and not only at the same hour but at the same minute. With those about\ +him, from his daughter to his serfs, the prince was sharp and invariably\ +exacting, so that without being a hardhearted man he inspired such fear\ +and respect as few hardhearted men would have aroused. Although he was\ +in retirement and had now no influence in political affairs, every high\ +official appointed to the province in which the prince's estate lay\ +considered it his duty to visit him and waited in the lofty antechamber\ +just as the architect, gardener, or Princess Mary did, till the prince\ +appeared punctually to the appointed hour. Everyone sitting in this\ +antechamber experienced the same feeling of respect and even fear when\ +the enormously high study door opened and showed the figure of a rather\ +small old man, with powdered wig, small withered hands, and bushy gray\ +eyebrows which, when he frowned, sometimes hid the gleam of his shrewd,\ +youthfully glittering eyes.\ +\ +On the morning of the day that the young couple were to arrive, Princess\ +Mary entered the antechamber as usual at the time appointed for the\ +morning greeting, crossing herself with trepidation and repeating a\ +silent prayer. Every morning she came in like that, and every morning\ +prayed that the daily interview might pass off well.\ +\ +An old powdered manservant who was sitting in the antechamber rose\ +quietly and said in a whisper: "Please walk in."\ +\ +Through the door came the regular hum of a lathe. The princess timidly\ +opened the door which moved noiselessly and easily. She paused at the\ +entrance. The prince was working at the lathe and after glancing round\ +continued his work.\ +\ +The enormous study was full of things evidently in constant use. The\ +large table covered with books and plans, the tall glass-fronted\ +bookcases with keys in the locks, the high desk for writing while\ +standing up, on which lay an open exercise book, and the lathe with\ +tools laid ready to hand and shavings scattered around--all indicated\ +continuous, varied, and orderly activity. The motion of the small foot\ +shod in a Tartar boot embroidered with silver, and the firm pressure of\ +the lean sinewy hand, showed that the prince still possessed the\ +tenacious endurance and vigor of hardy old age. After a few more turns\ +of the lathe he removed his foot from the pedal, wiped his chisel,\ +dropped it into a leather pouch attached to the lathe, and, approaching\ +the table, summoned his daughter. He never gave his children a blessing,\ +so he simply held out his bristly cheek (as yet unshaven) and, regarding\ +her tenderly and attentively, said severely:\ +\ +"Quite well? All right then, sit down." He took the exercise book\ +containing lessons in geometry written by himself and drew up a chair\ +with his foot.\ +\ +"For tomorrow!" said he, quickly finding the page and making a scratch\ +from one paragraph to another with his hard nail.\ +\ +The princess bent over the exercise book on the table.\ +\ +"Wait a bit, here's a letter for you," said the old man suddenly, taking\ +a letter addressed in a woman's hand from a bag hanging above the table,\ +onto which he threw it.\ +\ +At the sight of the letter red patches showed themselves on the\ +princess' face. She took it quickly and bent her head over it.\ +\ +"From Heloise?" asked the prince with a cold smile that showed his still\ +sound, yellowish teeth.\ +\ +"Yes, it's from Julie," replied the princess with a timid glance and a\ +timid smile.\ +\ +"I'll let two more letters pass, but the third I'll read," said the\ +prince sternly; "I'm afraid you write much nonsense. I'll read the\ +third!"\ +\ +"Read this if you like, Father," said the princess, blushing still more\ +and holding out the letter.\ +\ +"The third, I said the third!" cried the prince abruptly, pushing the\ +letter away, and leaning his elbows on the table he drew toward him the\ +exercise book containing geometrical figures.\ +\ +"Well, madam," he began, stooping over the book close to his daughter\ +and placing an arm on the back of the chair on which she sat, so that\ +she felt herself surrounded on all sides by the acrid scent of old age\ +and tobacco, which she had known so long. "Now, madam, these triangles\ +are equal; please note that the angle ABC..."\ +\ +The princess looked in a scared way at her father's eyes glittering\ +close to her; the red patches on her face came and went, and it was\ +plain that she understood nothing and was so frightened that her fear\ +would prevent her understanding any of her father's further\ +explanations, however clear they might be. Whether it was the teacher's\ +fault or the pupil's, this same thing happened every day: the princess'\ +eyes grew dim, she could not see and could not hear anything, but was\ +only conscious of her stern father's withered face close to her, of his\ +breath and the smell of him, and could think only of how to get away\ +quickly to her own room to make out the problem in peace. The old man\ +was beside himself: moved the chair on which he was sitting noisily\ +backward and forward, made efforts to control himself and not become\ +vehement, but almost always did become vehement, scolded, and sometimes\ +flung the exercise book away.\ +\ +The princess gave a wrong answer.\ +\ +"Well now, isn't she a fool!" shouted the prince, pushing the book aside\ +and turning sharply away; but rising immediately, he paced up and down,\ +lightly touched his daughter's hair and sat down again.\ +\ +He drew up his chair, and continued to explain.\ +\ +"This won't do, Princess; it won't do," said he, when Princess Mary,\ +having taken and closed the exercise book with the next day's lesson,\ +was about to leave: "Mathematics are most important, madam! I don't want\ +to have you like our silly ladies. Get used to it and you'll like it,"\ +and he patted her cheek. "It will drive all the nonsense out of your\ +head."\ +\ +She turned to go, but he stopped her with a gesture and took an uncut\ +book from the high desk.\ +\ +"Here is some sort of Key to the Mysteries that your Heloise has sent\ +you. Religious! I don't interfere with anyone's belief... I have looked\ +at it. Take it. Well, now go. Go."\ +\ +He patted her on the shoulder and himself closed the door after her.\ +\ +Princess Mary went back to her room with the sad, scared expression that\ +rarely left her and which made her plain, sickly face yet plainer. She\ +sat down at her writing table, on which stood miniature portraits and\ +which was littered with books and papers. The princess was as untidy as\ +her father was tidy. She put down the geometry book and eagerly broke\ +the seal of her letter. It was from her most intimate friend from\ +childhood; that same Julie Karagina who had been at the Rostovs' name-\ +day party.\ +\ +Julie wrote in French:\ +\ +Dear and precious Friend, How terrible and frightful a thing is\ +separation! Though I tell myself that half my life and half my happiness\ +are wrapped up in you, and that in spite of the distance separating us\ +our hearts are united by indissoluble bonds, my heart rebels against\ +fate and in spite of the pleasures and distractions around me I cannot\ +overcome a certain secret sorrow that has been in my heart ever since we\ +parted. Why are we not together as we were last summer, in your big\ +study, on the blue sofa, the confidential sofa? Why cannot I now, as\ +three months ago, draw fresh moral strength from your look, so gentle,\ +calm, and penetrating, a look I loved so well and seem to see before me\ +as I write?\ +\ +Having read thus far, Princess Mary sighed and glanced into the mirror\ +which stood on her right. It reflected a weak, ungraceful figure and\ +thin face. Her eyes, always sad, now looked with particular hopelessness\ +at her reflection in the glass. "She flatters me," thought the princess,\ +turning away and continuing to read. But Julie did not flatter her\ +friend, the princess' eyes--large, deep and luminous (it seemed as if at\ +times there radiated from them shafts of warm light)--were so beautiful\ +that very often in spite of the plainness of her face they gave her an\ +attraction more powerful than that of beauty. But the princess never saw\ +the beautiful expression of her own eyes--the look they had when she was\ +not thinking of herself. As with everyone, her face assumed a forced\ +unnatural expression as soon as she looked in a glass. She went on\ +reading:\ +\ +All Moscow talks of nothing but war. One of my two brothers is already\ +abroad, the other is with the Guards, who are starting on their march to\ +the frontier. Our dear Emperor has left Petersburg and it is thought\ +intends to expose his precious person to the chances of war. God grant\ +that the Corsican monster who is destroying the peace of Europe may be\ +overthrown by the angel whom it has pleased the Almighty, in His\ +goodness, to give us as sovereign! To say nothing of my brothers, this\ +war has deprived me of one of the associations nearest my heart. I mean\ +young Nicholas Rostov, who with his enthusiasm could not bear to remain\ +inactive and has left the university to join the army. I will confess to\ +you, dear Mary, that in spite of his extreme youth his departure for the\ +army was a great grief to me. This young man, of whom I spoke to you\ +last summer, is so noble-minded and full of that real youthfulness which\ +one seldom finds nowadays among our old men of twenty and, particularly,\ +he is so frank and has so much heart. He is so pure and poetic that my\ +relations with him, transient as they were, have been one of the\ +sweetest comforts to my poor heart, which has already suffered so much.\ +Someday I will tell you about our parting and all that was said then.\ +That is still too fresh. Ah, dear friend, you are happy not to know\ +these poignant joys and sorrows. You are fortunate, for the latter are\ +generally the stronger! I know very well that Count Nicholas is too\ +young ever to be more to me than a friend, but this sweet friendship,\ +this poetic and pure intimacy, were what my heart needed. But enough of\ +this! The chief news, about which all Moscow gossips, is the death of\ +old Count Bezukhov, and his inheritance. Fancy! The three princesses\ +have received very little, Prince Vasili nothing, and it is Monsieur\ +Pierre who has inherited all the property and has besides been\ +recognized as legitimate; so that he is now Count Bezukhov and possessor\ +of the finest fortune in Russia. It is rumored that Prince Vasili played\ +a very despicable part in this affair and that he returned to Petersburg\ +quite crestfallen.\ +\ +I confess I understand very little about all these matters of wills and\ +inheritance; but I do know that since this young man, whom we all used\ +to know as plain Monsieur Pierre, has become Count Bezukhov and the\ +owner of one of the largest fortunes in Russia, I am much amused to\ +watch the change in the tone and manners of the mammas burdened by\ +marriageable daughters, and of the young ladies themselves, toward him,\ +though, between you and me, he always seemed to me a poor sort of\ +fellow. As for the past two years people have amused themselves by\ +finding husbands for me (most of whom I don't even know), the\ +matchmaking chronicles of Moscow now speak of me as the future Countess\ +Bezukhova. But you will understand that I have no desire for the post. A\ +propos of marriages: do you know that a while ago that universal auntie\ +Anna Mikhaylovna told me, under the seal of strict secrecy, of a plan of\ +marriage for you. It is neither more nor less than with Prince Vasili's\ +son Anatole, whom they wish to reform by marrying him to someone rich\ +and distinguee, and it is on you that his relations' choice has fallen.\ +I don't know what you will think of it, but I consider it my duty to let\ +you know of it. He is said to be very handsome and a terrible\ +scapegrace. That is all I have been able to find out about him.\ +\ +But enough of gossip. I am at the end of my second sheet of paper, and\ +Mamma has sent for me to go and dine at the Apraksins'. Read the\ +mystical book I am sending you; it has an enormous success here. Though\ +there are things in it difficult for the feeble human mind to grasp, it\ +is an admirable book which calms and elevates the soul. Adieu! Give my\ +respects to monsieur your father and my compliments to Mademoiselle\ +Bourienne. I embrace you as I love you.\ +\ +JULIE\ +\ +P.S. Let me have news of your brother and his charming little wife.\ +\ +The princess pondered awhile with a thoughtful smile and her luminous\ +eyes lit up so that her face was entirely transformed. Then she suddenly\ +rose and with her heavy tread went up to the table. She took a sheet of\ +paper and her hand moved rapidly over it. This is the reply she wrote,\ +also in French:\ +\ +Dear and precious Friend, Your letter of the 13th has given me great\ +delight. So you still love me, my romantic Julie? Separation, of which\ +you say so much that is bad, does not seem to have had its usual effect\ +on you. You complain of our separation. What then should I say, if I\ +dared complain, I who am deprived of all who are dear to me? Ah, if we\ +had not religion to console us life would be very sad. Why do you\ +suppose that I should look severely on your affection for that young\ +man? On such matters I am only severe with myself. I understand such\ +feelings in others, and if never having felt them I cannot approve of\ +them, neither do I condemn them. Only it seems to me that Christian\ +love, love of one's neighbor, love of one's enemy, is worthier, sweeter,\ +and better than the feelings which the beautiful eyes of a young man can\ +inspire in a romantic and loving young girl like yourself.\ +\ +The news of Count Bezukhov's death reached us before your letter and my\ +father was much affected by it. He says the count was the last\ +representative but one of the great century, and that it is his own turn\ +now, but that he will do all he can to let his turn come as late as\ +possible. God preserve us from that terrible misfortune!\ +\ +I cannot agree with you about Pierre, whom I knew as a child. He always\ +seemed to me to have an excellent heart, and that is the quality I value\ +most in people. As to his inheritance and the part played by Prince\ +Vasili, it is very sad for both. Ah, my dear friend, our divine\ +Saviour's words, that it is easier for a camel to go through the eye of\ +a needle than for a rich man to enter the Kingdom of God, are terribly\ +true. I pity Prince Vasili but am still more sorry for Pierre. So young,\ +and burdened with such riches--to what temptations he will be exposed!\ +If I were asked what I desire most on earth, it would be to be poorer\ +than the poorest beggar. A thousand thanks, dear friend, for the volume\ +you have sent me and which has such success in Moscow. Yet since you\ +tell me that among some good things it contains others which our weak\ +human understanding cannot grasp, it seems to me rather useless to spend\ +time in reading what is unintelligible and can therefore bear no fruit.\ +I never could understand the fondness some people have for confusing\ +their minds by dwelling on mystical books that merely awaken their\ +doubts and excite their imagination, giving them a bent for exaggeration\ +quite contrary to Christian simplicity. Let us rather read the Epistles\ +and Gospels. Let us not seek to penetrate what mysteries they contain;\ +for how can we, miserable sinners that we are, know the terrible and\ +holy secrets of Providence while we remain in this flesh which forms an\ +impenetrable veil between us and the Eternal? Let us rather confine\ +ourselves to studying those sublime rules which our divine Saviour has\ +left for our guidance here below. Let us try to conform to them and\ +follow them, and let us be persuaded that the less we let our feeble\ +human minds roam, the better we shall please God, who rejects all\ +knowledge that does not come from Him; and the less we seek to fathom\ +what He has been pleased to conceal from us, the sooner will He\ +vouchsafe its revelation to us through His divine Spirit.\ +\ +My father has not spoken to me of a suitor, but has only told me that he\ +has received a letter and is expecting a visit from Prince Vasili. In\ +regard to this project of marriage for me, I will tell you, dear sweet\ +friend, that I look on marriage as a divine institution to which we must\ +conform. However painful it may be to me, should the Almighty lay the\ +duties of wife and mother upon me I shall try to perform them as\ +faithfully as I can, without disquieting myself by examining my feelings\ +toward him whom He may give me for husband.\ +\ +I have had a letter from my brother, who announces his speedy arrival at\ +Bald Hills with his wife. This pleasure will be but a brief one,\ +however, for he will leave us again to take part in this unhappy war\ +into which we have been drawn, God knows how or why. Not only where you\ +are--at the heart of affairs and of the world--is the talk all of war,\ +even here amid fieldwork and the calm of nature--which townsfolk\ +consider characteristic of the country--rumors of war are heard and\ +painfully felt. My father talks of nothing but marches and\ +countermarches, things of which I understand nothing; and the day before\ +yesterday during my daily walk through the village I witnessed a\ +heartrending scene.... It was a convoy of conscripts enrolled from our\ +people and starting to join the army. You should have seen the state of\ +the mothers, wives, and children of the men who were going and should\ +have heard the sobs. It seems as though mankind has forgotten the laws\ +of its divine Saviour, Who preached love and forgiveness of injuries--\ +and that men attribute the greatest merit to skill in killing one\ +another.\ +\ +Adieu, dear and kind friend; may our divine Saviour and His most Holy\ +Mother keep you in their holy and all-powerful care!\ +\ +MARY\ +\ +"Ah, you are sending off a letter, Princess? I have already dispatched\ +mine. I have written to my poor mother," said the smiling Mademoiselle\ +Bourienne rapidly, in her pleasant mellow tones and with guttural r's.\ +She brought into Princess Mary's strenuous, mournful, and gloomy world a\ +quite different atmosphere, careless, lighthearted, and self-satisfied.\ +\ +"Princess, I must warn you," she added, lowering her voice and evidently\ +listening to herself with pleasure, and speaking with exaggerated\ +grasseyement, "the prince has been scolding Michael Ivanovich. He is in\ +a very bad humor, very morose. Be prepared."\ +\ +"Ah, dear friend," replied Princess Mary, "I have asked you never to\ +warn me of the humor my father is in. I do not allow myself to judge him\ +and would not have others do so."\ +\ +The princess glanced at her watch and, seeing that she was five minutes\ +late in starting her practice on the clavichord, went into the sitting\ +room with a look of alarm. Between twelve and two o'clock, as the day\ +was mapped out, the prince rested and the princess played the\ +clavichord.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XXVI\ +\ +The gray-haired valet was sitting drowsily listening to the snoring of\ +the prince, who was in his large study. From the far side of the house\ +through the closed doors came the sound of difficult passages--twenty\ +times repeated--of a sonata by Dussek.\ +\ +Just then a closed carriage and another with a hood drove up to the\ +porch. Prince Andrew got out of the carriage, helped his little wife to\ +alight, and let her pass into the house before him. Old Tikhon, wearing\ +a wig, put his head out of the door of the antechamber, reported in a\ +whisper that the prince was sleeping, and hastily closed the door.\ +Tikhon knew that neither the son's arrival nor any other unusual event\ +must be allowed to disturb the appointed order of the day. Prince Andrew\ +apparently knew this as well as Tikhon; he looked at his watch as if to\ +ascertain whether his father's habits had changed since he was at home\ +last, and, having assured himself that they had not, he turned to his\ +wife.\ +\ +"He will get up in twenty minutes. Let us go across to Mary's room," he\ +said.\ +\ +The little princess had grown stouter during this time, but her eyes and\ +her short, downy, smiling lip lifted when she began to speak just as\ +merrily and prettily as ever.\ +\ +"Why, this is a palace!" she said to her husband, looking around with\ +the expression with which people compliment their host at a ball. "Let's\ +come, quick, quick!" And with a glance round, she smiled at Tikhon, at\ +her husband, and at the footman who accompanied them.\ +\ +"Is that Mary practicing? Let's go quietly and take her by surprise."\ +\ +Prince Andrew followed her with a courteous but sad expression.\ +\ +"You've grown older, Tikhon," he said in passing to the old man, who\ +kissed his hand.\ +\ +Before they reached the room from which the sounds of the clavichord\ +came, the pretty, fair haired Frenchwoman, Mademoiselle Bourienne,\ +rushed out apparently beside herself with delight.\ +\ +"Ah! what joy for the princess!" exclaimed she: "At last! I must let her\ +know."\ +\ +"No, no, please not... You are Mademoiselle Bourienne," said the little\ +princess, kissing her. "I know you already through my sister-in-law's\ +friendship for you. She was not expecting us?"\ +\ +They went up to the door of the sitting room from which came the sound\ +of the oft-repeated passage of the sonata. Prince Andrew stopped and\ +made a grimace, as if expecting something unpleasant.\ +\ +The little princess entered the room. The passage broke off in the\ +middle, a cry was heard, then Princess Mary's heavy tread and the sound\ +of kissing. When Prince Andrew went in the two princesses, who had only\ +met once before for a short time at his wedding, were in each other's\ +arms warmly pressing their lips to whatever place they happened to\ +touch. Mademoiselle Bourienne stood near them pressing her hand to her\ +heart, with a beatific smile and obviously equally ready to cry or to\ +laugh. Prince Andrew shrugged his shoulders and frowned, as lovers of\ +music do when they hear a false note. The two women let go of one\ +another, and then, as if afraid of being too late, seized each other's\ +hands, kissing them and pulling them away, and again began kissing each\ +other on the face, and then to Prince Andrew's surprise both began to\ +cry and kissed again. Mademoiselle Bourienne also began to cry. Prince\ +Andrew evidently felt ill at ease, but to the two women it seemed quite\ +natural that they should cry, and apparently it never entered their\ +heads that it could have been otherwise at this meeting.\ +\ +"Ah! my dear!... Ah! Mary!" they suddenly exclaimed, and then laughed.\ +"I dreamed last night..."--"You were not expecting us?..." "Ah! Mary,\ +you have got thinner?..." "And you have grown stouter!..."\ +\ +"I knew the princess at once," put in Mademoiselle Bourienne.\ +\ +"And I had no idea!..." exclaimed Princess Mary. "Ah, Andrew, I did not\ +see you."\ +\ +Prince Andrew and his sister, hand in hand, kissed one another, and he\ +told her she was still the same crybaby as ever. Princess Mary had\ +turned toward her brother, and through her tears the loving, warm,\ +gentle look of her large luminous eyes, very beautiful at that moment,\ +rested on Prince Andrew's face.\ +\ +The little princess talked incessantly, her short, downy upper lip\ +continually and rapidly touching her rosy nether lip when necessary and\ +drawing up again next moment when her face broke into a smile of\ +glittering teeth and sparkling eyes. She told of an accident they had\ +had on the Spasski Hill which might have been serious for her in her\ +condition, and immediately after that informed them that she had left\ +all her clothes in Petersburg and that heaven knew what she would have\ +to dress in here; and that Andrew had quite changed, and that Kitty\ +Odyntsova had married an old man, and that there was a suitor for Mary,\ +a real one, but that they would talk of that later. Princess Mary was\ +still looking silently at her brother and her beautiful eyes were full\ +of love and sadness. It was plain that she was following a train of\ +thought independent of her sister-in-law's words. In the midst of a\ +description of the last Petersburg fete she addressed her brother:\ +\ +"So you are really going to the war, Andrew?" she said sighing.\ +\ +Lise sighed too.\ +\ +"Yes, and even tomorrow," replied her brother.\ +\ +"He is leaving me here, God knows why, when he might have had\ +promotion..."\ +\ +Princess Mary did not listen to the end, but continuing her train of\ +thought turned to her sister-in-law with a tender glance at her figure.\ +\ +"Is it certain?" she said.\ +\ +The face of the little princess changed. She sighed and said: "Yes,\ +quite certain. Ah! it is very dreadful..."\ +\ +Her lip descended. She brought her face close to her sister-in-law's and\ +unexpectedly again began to cry.\ +\ +"She needs rest," said Prince Andrew with a frown. "Don't you, Lise?\ +Take her to your room and I'll go to Father. How is he? Just the same?"\ +\ +"Yes, just the same. Though I don't know what your opinion will be,"\ +answered the princess joyfully.\ +\ +"And are the hours the same? And the walks in the avenues? And the\ +lathe?" asked Prince Andrew with a scarcely perceptible smile which\ +showed that, in spite of all his love and respect for his father, he was\ +aware of his weaknesses.\ +\ +"The hours are the same, and the lathe, and also the mathematics and my\ +geometry lessons," said Princess Mary gleefully, as if her lessons in\ +geometry were among the greatest delights of her life.\ +\ +When the twenty minutes had elapsed and the time had come for the old\ +prince to get up, Tikhon came to call the young prince to his father.\ +The old man made a departure from his usual routine in honor of his\ +son's arrival: he gave orders to admit him to his apartments while he\ +dressed for dinner. The old prince always dressed in old-fashioned\ +style, wearing an antique coat and powdered hair; and when Prince Andrew\ +entered his father's dressing room (not with the contemptuous look and\ +manner he wore in drawing rooms, but with the animated face with which\ +he talked to Pierre), the old man was sitting on a large leather-covered\ +chair, wrapped in a powdering mantle, entrusting his head to Tikhon.\ +\ +"Ah! here's the warrior! Wants to vanquish Buonaparte?" said the old\ +man, shaking his powdered head as much as the tail, which Tikhon was\ +holding fast to plait, would allow.\ +\ +"You at least must tackle him properly, or else if he goes on like this\ +he'll soon have us, too, for his subjects! How are you?" And he held out\ +his cheek.\ +\ +The old man was in a good temper after his nap before dinner. (He used\ +to say that a nap "after dinner was silver--before dinner, golden.") He\ +cast happy, sidelong glances at his son from under his thick, bushy\ +eyebrows. Prince Andrew went up and kissed his father on the spot\ +indicated to him. He made no reply on his father's favorite topic--\ +making fun of the military men of the day, and more particularly of\ +Bonaparte.\ +\ +"Yes, Father, I have come to you and brought my wife who is pregnant,"\ +said Prince Andrew, following every movement of his father's face with\ +an eager and respectful look. "How is your health?"\ +\ +"Only fools and rakes fall ill, my boy. You know me: I am busy from\ +morning till night and abstemious, so of course I am well."\ +\ +"Thank God," said his son smiling.\ +\ +"God has nothing to do with it! Well, go on," he continued, returning to\ +his hobby; "tell me how the Germans have taught you to fight Bonaparte\ +by this new science you call 'strategy.'"\ +\ +Prince Andrew smiled.\ +\ +"Give me time to collect my wits, Father," said he, with a smile that\ +showed that his father's foibles did not prevent his son from loving and\ +honoring him. "Why, I have not yet had time to settle down!"\ +\ +"Nonsense, nonsense!" cried the old man, shaking his pigtail to see\ +whether it was firmly plaited, and grasping his by the hand. "The house\ +for your wife is ready. Princess Mary will take her there and show her\ +over, and they'll talk nineteen to the dozen. That's their woman's way!\ +I am glad to have her. Sit down and talk. About Mikhelson's army I\ +understand--Tolstoy's too... a simultaneous expedition.... But what's\ +the southern army to do? Prussia is neutral... I know that. What about\ +Austria?" said he, rising from his chair and pacing up and down the room\ +followed by Tikhon, who ran after him, handing him different articles of\ +clothing. "What of Sweden? How will they cross Pomerania?"\ +\ +Prince Andrew, seeing that his father insisted, began--at first\ +reluctantly, but gradually with more and more animation, and from habit\ +changing unconsciously from Russian to French as he went on--to explain\ +the plan of operation for the coming campaign. He explained how an army,\ +ninety thousand strong, was to threaten Prussia so as to bring her out\ +of her neutrality and draw her into the war; how part of that army was\ +to join some Swedish forces at Stralsund; how two hundred and twenty\ +thousand Austrians, with a hundred thousand Russians, were to operate in\ +Italy and on the Rhine; how fifty thousand Russians and as many English\ +were to land at Naples, and how a total force of five hundred thousand\ +men was to attack the French from different sides. The old prince did\ +not evince the least interest during this explanation, but as if he were\ +not listening to it continued to dress while walking about, and three\ +times unexpectedly interrupted. Once he stopped it by shouting: "The\ +white one, the white one!"\ +\ +This meant that Tikhon was not handing him the waistcoat he wanted.\ +Another time he interrupted, saying:\ +\ +"And will she soon be confined?" and shaking his head reproachfully\ +said: "That's bad! Go on, go on."\ +\ +The third interruption came when Prince Andrew was finishing his\ +description. The old man began to sing, in the cracked voice of old age:\ +"Malbrook s'en va-t-en guerre. Dieu sait quand reviendra." *\ +\ +\ +* "Marlborough is going to the wars; God knows when he'll return."\ +\ +His son only smiled.\ +\ +"I don't say it's a plan I approve of," said the son; "I am only telling\ +you what it is. Napoleon has also formed his plan by now, not worse than\ +this one."\ +\ +"Well, you've told me nothing new," and the old man repeated,\ +meditatively and rapidly:\ +\ +"Dieu sait quand reviendra. Go to the dining room."\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XXVII\ +\ +At the appointed hour the prince, powdered and shaven, entered the\ +dining room where his daughter-in-law, Princess Mary, and Mademoiselle\ +Bourienne were already awaiting him together with his architect, who by\ +a strange caprice of his employer's was admitted to table though the\ +position of that insignificant individual was such as could certainly\ +not have caused him to expect that honor. The prince, who generally kept\ +very strictly to social distinctions and rarely admitted even important\ +government officials to his table, had unexpectedly selected Michael\ +Ivanovich (who always went into a corner to blow his nose on his checked\ +handkerchief) to illustrate the theory that all men are equals, and had\ +more than once impressed on his daughter that Michael Ivanovich was "not\ +a whit worse than you or I." At dinner the prince usually spoke to the\ +taciturn Michael Ivanovich more often than to anyone else.\ +\ +In the dining room, which like all the rooms in the house was\ +exceedingly lofty, the members of the household and the footmen--one\ +behind each chair--stood waiting for the prince to enter. The head\ +butler, napkin on arm, was scanning the setting of the table, making\ +signs to the footmen, and anxiously glancing from the clock to the door\ +by which the prince was to enter. Prince Andrew was looking at a large\ +gilt frame, new to him, containing the genealogical tree of the Princes\ +Bolkonski, opposite which hung another such frame with a badly painted\ +portrait (evidently by the hand of the artist belonging to the estate)\ +of a ruling prince, in a crown--an alleged descendant of Rurik and\ +ancestor of the Bolkonskis. Prince Andrew, looking again at that\ +genealogical tree, shook his head, laughing as a man laughs who looks at\ +a portrait so characteristic of the original as to be amusing.\ +\ +"How thoroughly like him that is!" he said to Princess Mary, who had\ +come up to him.\ +\ +Princess Mary looked at her brother in surprise. She did not understand\ +what he was laughing at. Everything her father did inspired her with\ +reverence and was beyond question.\ +\ +"Everyone has his Achilles' heel," continued Prince Andrew. "Fancy, with\ +his powerful mind, indulging in such nonsense!"\ +\ +Princess Mary could not understand the boldness of her brother's\ +criticism and was about to reply, when the expected footsteps were heard\ +coming from the study. The prince walked in quickly and jauntily as was\ +his wont, as if intentionally contrasting the briskness of his manners\ +with the strict formality of his house. At that moment the great clock\ +struck two and another with a shrill tone joined in from the drawing\ +room. The prince stood still; his lively glittering eyes from under\ +their thick, bushy eyebrows sternly scanned all present and rested on\ +the little princess. She felt, as courtiers do when the Tsar enters, the\ +sensation of fear and respect which the old man inspired in all around\ +him. He stroked her hair and then patted her awkwardly on the back of\ +her neck.\ +\ +"I'm glad, glad, to see you," he said, looking attentively into her\ +eyes, and then quickly went to his place and sat down. "Sit down, sit\ +down! Sit down, Michael Ianovich!"\ +\ +He indicated a place beside him to his daughter-in-law. A footman moved\ +the chair for her.\ +\ +"Ho, ho!" said the old man, casting his eyes on her rounded figure.\ +"You've been in a hurry. That's bad!"\ +\ +He laughed in his usual dry, cold, unpleasant way, with his lips only\ +and not with his eyes.\ +\ +"You must walk, walk as much as possible, as much as possible," he said.\ +\ +The little princess did not, or did not wish to, hear his words. She was\ +silent and seemed confused. The prince asked her about her father, and\ +she began to smile and talk. He asked about mutual acquaintances, and\ +she became still more animated and chattered away giving him greetings\ +from various people and retelling the town gossip.\ +\ +"Countess Apraksina, poor thing, has lost her husband and she has cried\ +her eyes out," she said, growing more and more lively.\ +\ +As she became animated the prince looked at her more and more sternly,\ +and suddenly, as if he had studied her sufficiently and had formed a\ +definite idea of her, he turned away and addressed Michael Ivanovich.\ +\ +"Well, Michael Ivanovich, our Bonaparte will be having a bad time of it.\ +Prince Andrew" (he always spoke thus of his son) "has been telling me\ +what forces are being collected against him! While you and I never\ +thought much of him."\ +\ +Michael Ivanovich did not at all know when "you and I" had said such\ +things about Bonaparte, but understanding that he was wanted as a peg on\ +which to hang the prince's favorite topic, he looked inquiringly at the\ +young prince, wondering what would follow.\ +\ +"He is a great tactician!" said the prince to his son, pointing to the\ +architect.\ +\ +And the conversation again turned on the war, on Bonaparte, and the\ +generals and statesmen of the day. The old prince seemed convinced not\ +only that all the men of the day were mere babies who did not know the A\ +B C of war or of politics, and that Bonaparte was an insignificant\ +little Frenchy, successful only because there were no longer any\ +Potemkins or Suvorovs left to oppose him; but he was also convinced that\ +there were no political difficulties in Europe and no real war, but only\ +a sort of puppet show at which the men of the day were playing,\ +pretending to do something real. Prince Andrew gaily bore with his\ +father's ridicule of the new men, and drew him on and listened to him\ +with evident pleasure.\ +\ +"The past always seems good," said he, "but did not Suvorov himself fall\ +into a trap Moreau set him, and from which he did not know how to\ +escape?"\ +\ +"Who told you that? Who?" cried the prince. "Suvorov!" And he jerked\ +away his plate, which Tikhon briskly caught. "Suvorov!... Consider,\ +Prince Andrew. Two... Frederick and Suvorov; Moreau!... Moreau would\ +have been a prisoner if Suvorov had had a free hand; but he had the\ +Hofs-kriegs-wurst-schnapps-Rath on his hands. It would have puzzled the\ +devil himself! When you get there you'll find out what those Hofs-\ +kriegs-wurst-Raths are! Suvorov couldn't manage them so what chance has\ +Michael Kutuzov? No, my dear boy," he continued, "you and your generals\ +won't get on against Buonaparte; you'll have to call in the French, so\ +that birds of a feather may fight together. The German, Pahlen, has been\ +sent to New York in America, to fetch the Frenchman, Moreau," he said,\ +alluding to the invitation made that year to Moreau to enter the Russian\ +service.... "Wonderful!... Were the Potemkins, Suvorovs, and Orlovs\ +Germans? No, lad, either you fellows have all lost your wits, or I have\ +outlived mine. May God help you, but we'll see what will happen.\ +Buonaparte has become a great commander among them! Hm!..."\ +\ +"I don't at all say that all the plans are good," said Prince Andrew, "I\ +am only surprised at your opinion of Bonaparte. You may laugh as much as\ +you like, but all the same Bonaparte is a great general!"\ +\ +"Michael Ivanovich!" cried the old prince to the architect who, busy\ +with his roast meat, hoped he had been forgotten: "Didn't I tell you\ +Buonaparte was a great tactician? Here, he says the same thing."\ +\ +"To be sure, your excellency," replied the architect.\ +\ +The prince again laughed his frigid laugh.\ +\ +"Buonaparte was born with a silver spoon in his mouth. He has got\ +splendid soldiers. Besides he began by attacking Germans. And only\ +idlers have failed to beat the Germans. Since the world began everybody\ +has beaten the Germans. They beat no one--except one another. He made\ +his reputation fighting them."\ +\ +And the prince began explaining all the blunders which, according to\ +him, Bonaparte had made in his campaigns and even in politics. His son\ +made no rejoinder, but it was evident that whatever arguments were\ +presented he was as little able as his father to change his opinion. He\ +listened, refraining from a reply, and involuntarily wondered how this\ +old man, living alone in the country for so many years, could know and\ +discuss so minutely and acutely all the recent European military and\ +political events.\ +\ +"You think I'm an old man and don't understand the present state of\ +affairs?" concluded his father. "But it troubles me. I don't sleep at\ +night. Come now, where has this great commander of yours shown his\ +skill?" he concluded.\ +\ +"That would take too long to tell," answered the son.\ +\ +"Well, then go to your Buonaparte! Mademoiselle Bourienne, here's\ +another admirer of that powder-monkey emperor of yours," he exclaimed in\ +excellent French.\ +\ +"You know, Prince, I am not a Bonapartist!"\ +\ +"Dieu sait quand reviendra..." hummed the prince out of tune and, with a\ +laugh still more so, he quitted the table.\ +\ +The little princess during the whole discussion and the rest of the\ +dinner sat silent, glancing with a frightened look now at her father-in-\ +law and now at Princess Mary. When they left the table she took her\ +sister-in-law's arm and drew her into another room.\ +\ +"What a clever man your father is," said she; "perhaps that is why I am\ +afraid of him."\ +\ +"Oh, he is so kind!" answered Princess Mary.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XXVIII\ +\ +Prince Andrew was to leave next evening. The old prince, not altering\ +his routine, retired as usual after dinner. The little princess was in\ +her sister-in-law's room. Prince Andrew in a traveling coat without\ +epaulettes had been packing with his valet in the rooms assigned to him.\ +After inspecting the carriage himself and seeing the trunks put in, he\ +ordered the horses to be harnessed. Only those things he always kept\ +with him remained in his room; a small box, a large canteen fitted with\ +silver plate, two Turkish pistols and a saber--a present from his father\ +who had brought it from the siege of Ochakov. All these traveling\ +effects of Prince Andrew's were in very good order: new, clean, and in\ +cloth covers carefully tied with tapes.\ +\ +When starting on a journey or changing their mode of life, men capable\ +of reflection are generally in a serious frame of mind. At such moments\ +one reviews the past and plans for the future. Prince Andrew's face\ +looked very thoughtful and tender. With his hands behind him he paced\ +briskly from corner to corner of the room, looking straight before him\ +and thoughtfully shaking his head. Did he fear going to the war, or was\ +he sad at leaving his wife?--perhaps both, but evidently he did not wish\ +to be seen in that mood, for hearing footsteps in the passage he\ +hurriedly unclasped his hands, stopped at a table as if tying the cover\ +of the small box, and assumed his usual tranquil and impenetrable\ +expression. It was the heavy tread of Princess Mary that he heard.\ +\ +"I hear you have given orders to harness," she cried, panting (she had\ +apparently been running), "and I did so wish to have another talk with\ +you alone! God knows how long we may again be parted. You are not angry\ +with me for coming? You have changed so, Andrusha," she added, as if to\ +explain such a question.\ +\ +She smiled as she uttered his pet name, "Andrusha." It was obviously\ +strange to her to think that this stern handsome man should be Andrusha-\ +-the slender mischievous boy who had been her playfellow in childhood.\ +\ +"And where is Lise?" he asked, answering her question only by a smile.\ +\ +"She was so tired that she has fallen asleep on the sofa in my room. Oh,\ +Andrew! What a treasure of a wife you have," said she, sitting down on\ +the sofa, facing her brother. "She is quite a child: such a dear, merry\ +child. I have grown so fond of her."\ +\ +Prince Andrew was silent, but the princess noticed the ironical and\ +contemptuous look that showed itself on his face.\ +\ +"One must be indulgent to little weaknesses; who is free from them,\ +Andrew? Don't forget that she has grown up and been educated in society,\ +and so her position now is not a rosy one. We should enter into\ +everyone's situation. Tout comprendre, c'est tout pardonner. * Think\ +what it must be for her, poor thing, after what she has been used to, to\ +be parted from her husband and be left alone in the country, in her\ +condition! It's very hard."\ +\ +\ +* To understand all is to forgive all.\ +\ +Prince Andrew smiled as he looked at his sister, as we smile at those we\ +think we thoroughly understand.\ +\ +"You live in the country and don't think the life terrible," he replied.\ +\ +"I... that's different. Why speak of me? I don't want any other life,\ +and can't, for I know no other. But think, Andrew: for a young society\ +woman to be buried in the country during the best years of her life, all\ +alone--for Papa is always busy, and I... well, you know what poor\ +resources I have for entertaining a woman used to the best society.\ +There is only Mademoiselle Bourienne...."\ +\ +"I don't like your Mademoiselle Bourienne at all," said Prince Andrew.\ +\ +"No? She is very nice and kind and, above all, she's much to be pitied.\ +She has no one, no one. To tell the truth, I don't need her, and she's\ +even in my way. You know I always was a savage, and now am even more so.\ +I like being alone.... Father likes her very much. She and Michael\ +Ivanovich are the two people to whom he is always gentle and kind,\ +because he has been a benefactor to them both. As Sterne says: 'We don't\ +love people so much for the good they have done us, as for the good we\ +have done them.' Father took her when she was homeless after losing her\ +own father. She is very good-natured, and my father likes her way of\ +reading. She reads to him in the evenings and reads splendidly."\ +\ +"To be quite frank, Mary, I expect Father's character sometimes makes\ +things trying for you, doesn't it?" Prince Andrew asked suddenly.\ +\ +Princess Mary was first surprised and then aghast at this question.\ +\ +"For me? For me?... Trying for me!..." said she.\ +\ +"He always was rather harsh; and now I should think he's getting very\ +trying," said Prince Andrew, apparently speaking lightly of their father\ +in order to puzzle or test his sister.\ +\ +"You are good in every way, Andrew, but you have a kind of intellectual\ +pride," said the princess, following the train of her own thoughts\ +rather than the trend of the conversation--"and that's a great sin. How\ +can one judge Father? But even if one might, what feeling except\ +veneration could such a man as my father evoke? And I am so contented\ +and happy with him. I only wish you were all as happy as I am."\ +\ +Her brother shook his head incredulously.\ +\ +"The only thing that is hard for me... I will tell you the truth,\ +Andrew... is Father's way of treating religious subjects. I don't\ +understand how a man of his immense intellect can fail to see what is as\ +clear as day, and can go so far astray. That is the only thing that\ +makes me unhappy. But even in this I can see lately a shade of\ +improvement. His satire has been less bitter of late, and there was a\ +monk he received and had a long talk with."\ +\ +"Ah! my dear, I am afraid you and your monk are wasting your powder,"\ +said Prince Andrew banteringly yet tenderly.\ +\ +"Ah! mon ami, I only pray, and hope that God will hear me. Andrew..."\ +she said timidly after a moment's silence, "I have a great favor to ask\ +of you."\ +\ +"What is it, dear?"\ +\ +"No--promise that you will not refuse! It will give you no trouble and\ +is nothing unworthy of you, but it will comfort me. Promise,\ +Andrusha!..." said she, putting her hand in her reticule but not yet\ +taking out what she was holding inside it, as if what she held were the\ +subject of her request and must not be shown before the request was\ +granted.\ +\ +She looked timidly at her brother.\ +\ +"Even if it were a great deal of trouble..." answered Prince Andrew, as\ +if guessing what it was about.\ +\ +"Think what you please! I know you are just like Father. Think as you\ +please, but do this for my sake! Please do! Father's father, our\ +grandfather, wore it in all his wars." (She still did not take out what\ +she was holding in her reticule.) "So you promise?"\ +\ +"Of course. What is it?"\ +\ +"Andrew, I bless you with this icon and you must promise me you will\ +never take it off. Do you promise?"\ +\ +"If it does not weigh a hundredweight and won't break my neck... To\ +please you..." said Prince Andrew. But immediately, noticing the pained\ +expression his joke had brought to his sister's face, he repented and\ +added: "I am glad; really, dear, I am very glad."\ +\ +"Against your will He will save and have mercy on you and bring you to\ +Himself, for in Him alone is truth and peace," said she in a voice\ +trembling with emotion, solemnly holding up in both hands before her\ +brother a small, oval, antique, dark-faced icon of the Saviour in a gold\ +setting, on a finely wrought silver chain.\ +\ +She crossed herself, kissed the icon, and handed it to Andrew.\ +\ +"Please, Andrew, for my sake!..."\ +\ +Rays of gentle light shone from her large, timid eyes. Those eyes lit up\ +the whole of her thin, sickly face and made it beautiful. Her brother\ +would have taken the icon, but she stopped him. Andrew understood,\ +crossed himself and kissed the icon. There was a look of tenderness, for\ +he was touched, but also a gleam of irony on his face.\ +\ +"Thank you, my dear." She kissed him on the forehead and sat down again\ +on the sofa. They were silent for a while.\ +\ +"As I was saying to you, Andrew, be kind and generous as you always used\ +to be. Don't judge Lise harshly," she began. "She is so sweet, so good-\ +natured, and her position now is a very hard one."\ +\ +"I do not think I have complained of my wife to you, Masha, or blamed\ +her. Why do you say all this to me?"\ +\ +Red patches appeared on Princess Mary's face and she was silent as if\ +she felt guilty.\ +\ +"I have said nothing to you, but you have already been talked to. And I\ +am sorry for that," he went on.\ +\ +The patches grew deeper on her forehead, neck, and cheeks. She tried to\ +say something but could not. Her brother had guessed right: the little\ +princess had been crying after dinner and had spoken of her forebodings\ +about her confinement, and how she dreaded it, and had complained of her\ +fate, her father-in-law, and her husband. After crying she had fallen\ +asleep. Prince Andrew felt sorry for his sister.\ +\ +"Know this, Masha: I can't reproach, have not reproached, and never\ +shall reproach my wife with anything, and I cannot reproach myself with\ +anything in regard to her; and that always will be so in whatever\ +circumstances I may be placed. But if you want to know the truth... if\ +you want to know whether I am happy? No! Is she happy? No! But why this\ +is so I don't know..."\ +\ +As he said this he rose, went to his sister, and, stooping, kissed her\ +forehead. His fine eyes lit up with a thoughtful, kindly, and\ +unaccustomed brightness, but he was looking not at his sister but over\ +her head toward the darkness of the open doorway.\ +\ +"Let us go to her, I must say good-by. Or--go and wake and I'll come in\ +a moment. Petrushka!" he called to his valet: "Come here, take these\ +away. Put this on the seat and this to the right."\ +\ +Princess Mary rose and moved to the door, then stopped and said:\ +"Andrew, if you had faith you would have turned to God and asked Him to\ +give you the love you do not feel, and your prayer would have been\ +answered."\ +\ +"Well, may be!" said Prince Andrew. "Go, Masha; I'll come immediately."\ +\ +On the way to his sister's room, in the passage which connected one wing\ +with the other, Prince Andrew met Mademoiselle Bourienne smiling\ +sweetly. It was the third time that day that, with an ecstatic and\ +artless smile, she had met him in secluded passages.\ +\ +"Oh! I thought you were in your room," she said, for some reason\ +blushing and dropping her eyes.\ +\ +Prince Andrew looked sternly at her and an expression of anger suddenly\ +came over his face. He said nothing to her but looked at her forehead\ +and hair, without looking at her eyes, with such contempt that the\ +Frenchwoman blushed and went away without a word. When he reached his\ +sister's room his wife was already awake and her merry voice, hurrying\ +one word after another, came through the open door. She was speaking as\ +usual in French, and as if after long self-restraint she wished to make\ +up for lost time.\ +\ +"No, but imagine the old Countess Zubova, with false curls and her mouth\ +full of false teeth, as if she were trying to cheat old age.... Ha, ha,\ +ha! Mary!"\ +\ +This very sentence about Countess Zubova and this same laugh Prince\ +Andrew had already heard from his wife in the presence of others some\ +five times. He entered the room softly. The little princess, plump and\ +rosy, was sitting in an easy chair with her work in her hands, talking\ +incessantly, repeating Petersburg reminiscences and even phrases. Prince\ +Andrew came up, stroked her hair, and asked if she felt rested after\ +their journey. She answered him and continued her chatter.\ +\ +The coach with six horses was waiting at the porch. It was an autumn\ +night, so dark that the coachman could not see the carriage pole.\ +Servants with lanterns were bustling about in the porch. The immense\ +house was brilliant with lights shining through its lofty windows. The\ +domestic serfs were crowding in the hall, waiting to bid good-by to the\ +young prince. The members of the household were all gathered in the\ +reception hall: Michael Ivanovich, Mademoiselle Bourienne, Princess\ +Mary, and the little princess. Prince Andrew had been called to his\ +father's study as the latter wished to say good-by to him alone. All\ +were waiting for them to come out.\ +\ +When Prince Andrew entered the study the old man in his old-age\ +spectacles and white dressing gown, in which he received no one but his\ +son, sat at the table writing. He glanced round.\ +\ +"Going?" And he went on writing.\ +\ +"I've come to say good-by."\ +\ +"Kiss me here," and he touched his cheek: "Thanks, thanks!"\ +\ +"What do you thank me for?"\ +\ +"For not dilly-dallying and not hanging to a woman's apron strings. The\ +Service before everything. Thanks, thanks!" And he went on writing, so\ +that his quill spluttered and squeaked. "If you have anything to say,\ +say it. These two things can be done together," he added.\ +\ +"About my wife... I am ashamed as it is to leave her on your hands..."\ +\ +"Why talk nonsense? Say what you want."\ +\ +"When her confinement is due, send to Moscow for an accoucheur.... Let\ +him be here...."\ +\ +The old prince stopped writing and, as if not understanding, fixed his\ +stern eyes on his son.\ +\ +"I know that no one can help if nature does not do her work," said\ +Prince Andrew, evidently confused. "I know that out of a million cases\ +only one goes wrong, but it is her fancy and mine. They have been\ +telling her things. She has had a dream and is frightened."\ +\ +"Hm... Hm..." muttered the old prince to himself, finishing what he was\ +writing. "I'll do it."\ +\ +He signed with a flourish and suddenly turning to his son began to\ +laugh.\ +\ +"It's a bad business, eh?"\ +\ +"What is bad, Father?"\ +\ +"The wife!" said the old prince, briefly and significantly.\ +\ +"I don't understand!" said Prince Andrew.\ +\ +"No, it can't be helped, lad," said the prince. "They're all like that;\ +one can't unmarry. Don't be afraid; I won't tell anyone, but you know it\ +yourself."\ +\ +He seized his son by the hand with small bony fingers, shook it, looked\ +straight into his son's face with keen eyes which seemed to see through\ +him, and again laughed his frigid laugh.\ +\ +The son sighed, thus admitting that his father had understood him. The\ +old man continued to fold and seal his letter, snatching up and throwing\ +down the wax, the seal, and the paper, with his accustomed rapidity.\ +\ +"What's to be done? She's pretty! I will do everything. Make your mind\ +easy," said he in abrupt sentences while sealing his letter.\ +\ +Andrew did not speak; he was both pleased and displeased that his father\ +understood him. The old man got up and gave the letter to his son.\ +\ +"Listen!" said he; "don't worry about your wife: what can be done shall\ +be. Now listen! Give this letter to Michael Ilarionovich. * I have\ +written that he should make use of you in proper places and not keep you\ +long as an adjutant: a bad position! Tell him I remember and like him.\ +Write and tell me how he receives you. If he is all right--serve him.\ +Nicholas Bolkonski's son need not serve under anyone if he is in\ +disfavor. Now come here."\ +\ +\ +*Kutuzov.\ +\ +He spoke so rapidly that he did not finish half his words, but his son\ +was accustomed to understand him. He led him to the desk, raised the\ +lid, drew out a drawer, and took out an exercise book filled with his\ +bold, tall, close handwriting.\ +\ +"I shall probably die before you. So remember, these are my memoirs;\ +hand them to the Emperor after my death. Now here is a Lombard bond and\ +a letter; it is a premium for the man who writes a history of Suvorov's\ +wars. Send it to the Academy. Here are some jottings for you to read\ +when I am gone. You will find them useful."\ +\ +Andrew did not tell his father that he would no doubt live a long time\ +yet. He felt that he must not say it.\ +\ +"I will do it all, Father," he said.\ +\ +"Well, now, good-by!" He gave his son his hand to kiss, and embraced\ +him. "Remember this, Prince Andrew, if they kill you it will hurt me,\ +your old father..." he paused unexpectedly, and then in a querulous\ +voice suddenly shrieked: "but if I hear that you have not behaved like a\ +son of Nicholas Bolkonski, I shall be ashamed!"\ +\ +"You need not have said that to me, Father," said the son with a smile.\ +\ +The old man was silent.\ +\ +"I also wanted to ask you," continued Prince Andrew, "if I'm killed and\ +if I have a son, do not let him be taken away from you--as I said\ +yesterday... let him grow up with you.... Please."\ +\ +"Not let the wife have him?" said the old man, and laughed.\ +\ +They stood silent, facing one another. The old man's sharp eyes were\ +fixed straight on his son's. Something twitched in the lower part of the\ +old prince's face.\ +\ +"We've said good-by. Go!" he suddenly shouted in a loud, angry voice,\ +opening his door.\ +\ +"What is it? What?" asked both princesses when they saw for a moment at\ +the door Prince Andrew and the figure of the old man in a white dressing\ +gown, spectacled and wigless, shouting in an angry voice.\ +\ +Prince Andrew sighed and made no reply.\ +\ +"Well!" he said, turning to his wife.\ +\ +And this "Well!" sounded coldly ironic, as if he were saying,: "Now go\ +through your performance."\ +\ +"Andrew, already!" said the little princess, turning pale and looking\ +with dismay at her husband.\ +\ +He embraced her. She screamed and fell unconscious on his shoulder.\ +\ +He cautiously released the shoulder she leaned on, looked into her face,\ +and carefully placed her in an easy chair.\ +\ +"Adieu, Mary," said he gently to his sister, taking her by the hand and\ +kissing her, and then he left the room with rapid steps.\ +\ +The little princess lay in the armchair, Mademoiselle Bourienne chafing\ +her temples. Princess Mary, supporting her sister-in-law, still looked\ +with her beautiful eyes full of tears at the door through which Prince\ +Andrew had gone and made the sign of the cross in his direction. From\ +the study, like pistol shots, came the frequent sound of the old man\ +angrily blowing his nose. Hardly had Prince Andrew gone when the study\ +door opened quickly and the stern figure of the old man in the white\ +dressing gown looked out.\ +\ +"Gone? That's all right!" said he; and looking angrily at the\ +unconscious little princess, he shook his head reprovingly and slammed\ +the door.\ +\ +BOOK TWO: 1805\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER I\ +\ +In October, 1805, a Russian army was occupying the villages and towns of\ +the Archduchy of Austria, and yet other regiments freshly arriving from\ +Russia were settling near the fortress of Braunau and burdening the\ +inhabitants on whom they were quartered. Braunau was the headquarters of\ +the commander-in-chief, Kutuzov.\ +\ +On October 11, 1805, one of the infantry regiments that had just reached\ +Braunau had halted half a mile from the town, waiting to be inspected by\ +the commander-in-chief. Despite the un-Russian appearance of the\ +locality and surroundings--fruit gardens, stone fences, tiled roofs, and\ +hills in the distance--and despite the fact that the inhabitants (who\ +gazed with curiosity at the soldiers) were not Russians, the regiment\ +had just the appearance of any Russian regiment preparing for an\ +inspection anywhere in the heart of Russia.\ +\ +On the evening of the last day's march an order had been received that\ +the commander-in-chief would inspect the regiment on the march. Though\ +the words of the order were not clear to the regimental commander, and\ +the question arose whether the troops were to be in marching order or\ +not, it was decided at a consultation between the battalion commanders\ +to present the regiment in parade order, on the principle that it is\ +always better to "bow too low than not bow low enough." So the soldiers,\ +after a twenty-mile march, were kept mending and cleaning all night long\ +without closing their eyes, while the adjutants and company commanders\ +calculated and reckoned, and by morning the regiment--instead of the\ +straggling, disorderly crowd it had been on its last march the day\ +before--presented a well-ordered array of two thousand men each of whom\ +knew his place and his duty, had every button and every strap in place,\ +and shone with cleanliness. And not only externally was all in order,\ +but had it pleased the commander-in-chief to look under the uniforms he\ +would have found on every man a clean shirt, and in every knapsack the\ +appointed number of articles, "awl, soap, and all," as the soldiers say.\ +There was only one circumstance concerning which no one could be at\ +ease. It was the state of the soldiers' boots. More than half the men's\ +boots were in holes. But this defect was not due to any fault of the\ +regimental commander, for in spite of repeated demands boots had not\ +been issued by the Austrian commissariat, and the regiment had marched\ +some seven hundred miles.\ +\ +The commander of the regiment was an elderly, choleric, stout, and\ +thick-set general with grizzled eyebrows and whiskers, and wider from\ +chest to back than across the shoulders. He had on a brand-new uniform\ +showing the creases where it had been folded and thick gold epaulettes\ +which seemed to stand rather than lie down on his massive shoulders. He\ +had the air of a man happily performing one of the most solemn duties of\ +his life. He walked about in front of the line and at every step pulled\ +himself up, slightly arching his back. It was plain that the commander\ +admired his regiment, rejoiced in it, and that his whole mind was\ +engrossed by it, yet his strut seemed to indicate that, besides military\ +matters, social interests and the fair sex occupied no small part of his\ +thoughts.\ +\ +"Well, Michael Mitrich, sir?" he said, addressing one of the battalion\ +commanders who smilingly pressed forward (it was plain that they both\ +felt happy). "We had our hands full last night. However, I think the\ +regiment is not a bad one, eh?"\ +\ +The battalion commander perceived the jovial irony and laughed.\ +\ +"It would not be turned off the field even on the Tsaritsin Meadow."\ +\ +"What?" asked the commander.\ +\ +At that moment, on the road from the town on which signalers had been\ +posted, two men appeared on horse back. They were an aide-de-camp\ +followed by a Cossack.\ +\ +The aide-de-camp was sent to confirm the order which had not been\ +clearly worded the day before, namely, that the commander-in-chief\ +wished to see the regiment just in the state in which it had been on the\ +march: in their greatcoats, and packs, and without any preparation\ +whatever.\ +\ +A member of the Hofkriegsrath from Vienna had come to Kutuzov the day\ +before with proposals and demands for him to join up with the army of\ +the Archduke Ferdinand and Mack, and Kutuzov, not considering this\ +junction advisable, meant, among other arguments in support of his view,\ +to show the Austrian general the wretched state in which the troops\ +arrived from Russia. With this object he intended to meet the regiment;\ +so the worse the condition it was in, the better pleased the commander-\ +in-chief would be. Though the aide-de-camp did not know these\ +circumstances, he nevertheless delivered the definite order that the men\ +should be in their greatcoats and in marching order, and that the\ +commander-in-chief would otherwise be dissatisfied. On hearing this the\ +regimental commander hung his head, silently shrugged his shoulders, and\ +spread out his arms with a choleric gesture.\ +\ +"A fine mess we've made of it!" he remarked.\ +\ +"There now! Didn't I tell you, Michael Mitrich, that if it was said 'on\ +the march' it meant in greatcoats?" said he reproachfully to the\ +battalion commander. "Oh, my God!" he added, stepping resolutely\ +forward. "Company commanders!" he shouted in a voice accustomed to\ +command. "Sergeants major!... How soon will he be here?" he asked the\ +aide-de-camp with a respectful politeness evidently relating to the\ +personage he was referring to.\ +\ +"In an hour's time, I should say."\ +\ +"Shall we have time to change clothes?"\ +\ +"I don't know, General...."\ +\ +The regimental commander, going up to the line himself, ordered the\ +soldiers to change into their greatcoats. The company commanders ran off\ +to their companies, the sergeants major began bustling (the greatcoats\ +were not in very good condition), and instantly the squares that had up\ +to then been in regular order and silent began to sway and stretch and\ +hum with voices. On all sides soldiers were running to and fro, throwing\ +up their knapsacks with a jerk of their shoulders and pulling the straps\ +over their heads, unstrapping their overcoats and drawing the sleeves on\ +with upraised arms.\ +\ +In half an hour all was again in order, only the squares had become gray\ +instead of black. The regimental commander walked with his jerky steps\ +to the front of the regiment and examined it from a distance.\ +\ +"Whatever is this? This!" he shouted and stood still. "Commander of the\ +third company!"\ +\ +"Commander of the third company wanted by the general!... commander to\ +the general... third company to the commander." The words passed along\ +the lines and an adjutant ran to look for the missing officer.\ +\ +When the eager but misrepeated words had reached their destination in a\ +cry of: "The general to the third company," the missing officer appeared\ +from behind his company and, though he was a middle-aged man and not in\ +the habit of running, trotted awkwardly stumbling on his toes toward the\ +general. The captain's face showed the uneasiness of a schoolboy who is\ +told to repeat a lesson he has not learned. Spots appeared on his nose,\ +the redness of which was evidently due to intemperance, and his mouth\ +twitched nervously. The general looked the captain up and down as he\ +came up panting, slackening his pace as he approached.\ +\ +"You will soon be dressing your men in petticoats! What is this?"\ +shouted the regimental commander, thrusting forward his jaw and pointing\ +at a soldier in the ranks of the third company in a greatcoat of bluish\ +cloth, which contrasted with the others. "What have you been after? The\ +commander in chief is expected and you leave your place? Eh? I'll teach\ +you to dress the men in fancy coats for a parade.... Eh...?"\ +\ +The commander of the company, with his eyes fixed on his superior,\ +pressed two fingers more and more rigidly to his cap, as if in this\ +pressure lay his only hope of salvation.\ +\ +"Well, why don't you speak? Whom have you got there dressed up as a\ +Hungarian?" said the commander with an austere gibe.\ +\ +"Your excellency..."\ +\ +"Well, your excellency, what? Your excellency! But what about your\ +excellency?... nobody knows."\ +\ +"Your excellency, it's the officer Dolokhov, who has been reduced to the\ +ranks," said the captain softly.\ +\ +"Well? Has he been degraded into a field marshal, or into a soldier? If\ +a soldier, he should be dressed in regulation uniform like the others."\ +\ +"Your excellency, you gave him leave yourself, on the march."\ +\ +"Gave him leave? Leave? That's just like you young men," said the\ +regimental commander cooling down a little. "Leave indeed.... One says a\ +word to you and you... What?" he added with renewed irritation, "I beg\ +you to dress your men decently."\ +\ +And the commander, turning to look at the adjutant, directed his jerky\ +steps down the line. He was evidently pleased at his own display of\ +anger and walking up to the regiment wished to find a further excuse for\ +wrath. Having snapped at an officer for an unpolished badge, at another\ +because his line was not straight, he reached the third company.\ +\ +"H-o-o-w are you standing? Where's your leg? Your leg?" shouted the\ +commander with a tone of suffering in his voice, while there were still\ +five men between him and Dolokhov with his bluish-gray uniform.\ +\ +Dolokhov slowly straightened his bent knee, looking straight with his\ +clear, insolent eyes in the general's face.\ +\ +"Why a blue coat? Off with it... Sergeant major! Change his coat... the\ +ras..." he did not finish.\ +\ +"General, I must obey orders, but I am not bound to endure..." Dolokhov\ +hurriedly interrupted.\ +\ +"No talking in the ranks!... No talking, no talking!"\ +\ +"Not bound to endure insults," Dolokhov concluded in loud, ringing\ +tones.\ +\ +The eyes of the general and the soldier met. The general became silent,\ +angrily pulling down his tight scarf.\ +\ +"I request you to have the goodness to change your coat," he said as he\ +turned away.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER II\ +\ +"He's coming!" shouted the signaler at that moment.\ +\ +The regimental commander, flushing, ran to his horse, seized the stirrup\ +with trembling hands, threw his body across the saddle, righted himself,\ +drew his saber, and with a happy and resolute countenance, opening his\ +mouth awry, prepared to shout. The regiment fluttered like a bird\ +preening its plumage and became motionless.\ +\ +"Att-ention!" shouted the regimental commander in a soul-shaking voice\ +which expressed joy for himself, severity for the regiment, and welcome\ +for the approaching chief.\ +\ +Along the broad country road, edged on both sides by trees, came a high,\ +light blue Viennese caleche, slightly creaking on its springs and drawn\ +by six horses at a smart trot. Behind the caleche galloped the suite and\ +a convoy of Croats. Beside Kutuzov sat an Austrian general, in a white\ +uniform that looked strange among the Russian black ones. The caleche\ +stopped in front of the regiment. Kutuzov and the Austrian general were\ +talking in low voices and Kutuzov smiled slightly as treading heavily he\ +stepped down from the carriage just as if those two thousand men\ +breathlessly gazing at him and the regimental commander did not exist.\ +\ +The word of command rang out, and again the regiment quivered, as with a\ +jingling sound it presented arms. Then amidst a dead silence the feeble\ +voice of the commander-in-chief was heard. The regiment roared, "Health\ +to your ex... len... len... lency!" and again all became silent. At\ +first Kutuzov stood still while the regiment moved; then he and the\ +general in white, accompanied by the suite, walked between the ranks.\ +\ +From the way the regimental commander saluted the commander-in-chief and\ +devoured him with his eyes, drawing himself up obsequiously, and from\ +the way he walked through the ranks behind the generals, bending forward\ +and hardly able to restrain his jerky movements, and from the way he\ +darted forward at every word or gesture of the commander-in-chief, it\ +was evident that he performed his duty as a subordinate with even\ +greater zeal than his duty as a commander. Thanks to the strictness and\ +assiduity of its commander the regiment, in comparison with others that\ +had reached Braunau at the same time, was in splendid condition. There\ +were only 217 sick and stragglers. Everything was in good order except\ +the boots.\ +\ +Kutuzov walked through the ranks, sometimes stopping to say a few\ +friendly words to officers he had known in the Turkish war, sometimes\ +also to the soldiers. Looking at their boots he several times shook his\ +head sadly, pointing them out to the Austrian general with an expression\ +which seemed to say that he was not blaming anyone, but could not help\ +noticing what a bad state of things it was. The regimental commander ran\ +forward on each such occasion, fearing to miss a single word of the\ +commander-in-chief's regarding the regiment. Behind Kutuzov, at a\ +distance that allowed every softly spoken word to be heard, followed\ +some twenty men of his suite. These gentlemen talked among themselves\ +and sometimes laughed. Nearest of all to the commander-in-chief walked a\ +handsome adjutant. This was Prince Bolkonski. Beside him was his comrade\ +Nesvitski, a tall staff officer, extremely stout, with a kindly,\ +smiling, handsome face and moist eyes. Nesvitski could hardly keep from\ +laughter provoked by a swarthy hussar officer who walked beside him.\ +This hussar, with a grave face and without a smile or a change in the\ +expression of his fixed eyes, watched the regimental commander's back\ +and mimicked his every movement. Each time the commander started and\ +bent forward, the hussar started and bent forward in exactly the same\ +manner. Nesvitski laughed and nudged the others to make them look at the\ +wag.\ +\ +Kutuzov walked slowly and languidly past thousands of eyes which were\ +starting from their sockets to watch their chief. On reaching the third\ +company he suddenly stopped. His suite, not having expected this,\ +involuntarily came closer to him.\ +\ +"Ah, Timokhin!" said he, recognizing the red-nosed captain who had been\ +reprimanded on account of the blue greatcoat.\ +\ +One would have thought it impossible for a man to stretch himself more\ +than Timokhin had done when he was reprimanded by the regimental\ +commander, but now that the commander-in-chief addressed him he drew\ +himself up to such an extent that it seemed he could not have sustained\ +it had the commander-in-chief continued to look at him, and so Kutuzov,\ +who evidently understood his case and wished him nothing but good,\ +quickly turned away, a scarcely perceptible smile flitting over his\ +scarred and puffy face.\ +\ +"Another Ismail comrade," said he. "A brave officer! Are you satisfied\ +with him?" he asked the regimental commander.\ +\ +And the latter--unconscious that he was being reflected in the hussar\ +officer as in a looking glass--started, moved forward, and answered:\ +"Highly satisfied, your excellency!"\ +\ +"We all have our weaknesses," said Kutuzov smiling and walking away from\ +him. "He used to have a predilection for Bacchus."\ +\ +The regimental commander was afraid he might be blamed for this and did\ +not answer. The hussar at that moment noticed the face of the red-nosed\ +captain and his drawn-in stomach, and mimicked his expression and pose\ +with such exactitude that Nesvitski could not help laughing. Kutuzov\ +turned round. The officer evidently had complete control of his face,\ +and while Kutuzov was turning managed to make a grimace and then assume\ +a most serious, deferential, and innocent expression.\ +\ +The third company was the last, and Kutuzov pondered, apparently trying\ +to recollect something. Prince Andrew stepped forward from among the\ +suite and said in French:\ +\ +"You told me to remind you of the officer Dolokhov, reduced to the ranks\ +in this regiment."\ +\ +"Where is Dolokhov?" asked Kutuzov.\ +\ +Dolokhov, who had already changed into a soldier's gray greatcoat, did\ +not wait to be called. The shapely figure of the fair-haired soldier,\ +with his clear blue eyes, stepped forward from the ranks, went up to the\ +commander in chief, and presented arms.\ +\ +"Have you a complaint to make?" Kutuzov asked with a slight frown.\ +\ +"This is Dolokhov," said Prince Andrew.\ +\ +"Ah!" said Kutuzov. "I hope this will be a lesson to you. Do your duty.\ +The Emperor is gracious, and I shan't forget you if you deserve well."\ +\ +The clear blue eyes looked at the commander-in-chief just as boldly as\ +they had looked at the regimental commander, seeming by their expression\ +to tear open the veil of convention that separates a commander-in-chief\ +so widely from a private.\ +\ +"One thing I ask of your excellency," Dolokhov said in his firm,\ +ringing, deliberate voice. "I ask an opportunity to atone for my fault\ +and prove my devotion to His Majesty the Emperor and to Russia!"\ +\ +Kutuzov turned away. The same smile of the eyes with which he had turned\ +from Captain Timokhin again flitted over his face. He turned away with a\ +grimace as if to say that everything Dolokhov had said to him and\ +everything he could say had long been known to him, that he was weary of\ +it and it was not at all what he wanted. He turned away and went to the\ +carriage.\ +\ +The regiment broke up into companies, which went to their appointed\ +quarters near Braunau, where they hoped to receive boots and clothes and\ +to rest after their hard marches.\ +\ +"You won't bear me a grudge, Prokhor Ignatych?" said the regimental\ +commander, overtaking the third company on its way to its quarters and\ +riding up to Captain Timokhin who was walking in front. (The regimental\ +commander's face now that the inspection was happily over beamed with\ +irrepressible delight.) "It's in the Emperor's service... it can't be\ +helped... one is sometimes a bit hasty on parade... I am the first to\ +apologize, you know me!... He was very pleased!" And he held out his\ +hand to the captain.\ +\ +"Don't mention it, General, as if I'd be so bold!" replied the captain,\ +his nose growing redder as he gave a smile which showed where two front\ +teeth were missing that had been knocked out by the butt end of a gun at\ +Ismail.\ +\ +"And tell Mr. Dolokhov that I won't forget him--he may be quite easy.\ +And tell me, please--I've been meaning to ask--how is he behaving\ +himself, and in general..."\ +\ +"As far as the service goes he is quite punctilious, your excellency;\ +but his character..." said Timokhin.\ +\ +"And what about his character?" asked the regimental commander.\ +\ +"It's different on different days," answered the captain. "One day he is\ +sensible, well educated, and good-natured, and the next he's a wild\ +beast.... In Poland, if you please, he nearly killed a Jew."\ +\ +"Oh, well, well!" remarked the regimental commander. "Still, one must\ +have pity on a young man in misfortune. You know he has important\ +connections... Well, then, you just..."\ +\ +"I will, your excellency," said Timokhin, showing by his smile that he\ +understood his commander's wish.\ +\ +"Well, of course, of course!"\ +\ +The regimental commander sought out Dolokhov in the ranks and, reining\ +in his horse, said to him:\ +\ +"After the next affair... epaulettes."\ +\ +Dolokhov looked round but did not say anything, nor did the mocking\ +smile on his lips change.\ +\ +"Well, that's all right," continued the regimental commander. "A cup of\ +vodka for the men from me," he added so that the soldiers could hear. "I\ +thank you all! God be praised!" and he rode past that company and\ +overtook the next one.\ +\ +"Well, he's really a good fellow, one can serve under him," said\ +Timokhin to the subaltern beside him.\ +\ +"In a word, a hearty one..." said the subaltern, laughing (the\ +regimental commander was nicknamed King of Hearts).\ +\ +The cheerful mood of their officers after the inspection infected the\ +soldiers. The company marched on gaily. The soldiers' voices could be\ +heard on every side.\ +\ +"And they said Kutuzov was blind of one eye?"\ +\ +"And so he is! Quite blind!"\ +\ +"No, friend, he is sharper-eyed than you are. Boots and leg bands... he\ +noticed everything..."\ +\ +"When he looked at my feet, friend... well, thinks I..."\ +\ +"And that other one with him, the Austrian, looked as if he were smeared\ +with chalk--as white as flour! I suppose they polish him up as they do\ +the guns."\ +\ +"I say, Fedeshon!... Did he say when the battles are to begin? You were\ +near him. Everybody said that Buonaparte himself was at Braunau."\ +\ +"Buonaparte himself!... Just listen to the fool, what he doesn't know!\ +The Prussians are up in arms now. The Austrians, you see, are putting\ +them down. When they've been put down, the war with Buonaparte will\ +begin. And he says Buonaparte is in Braunau! Shows you're a fool. You'd\ +better listen more carefully!"\ +\ +"What devils these quartermasters are! See, the fifth company is turning\ +into the village already... they will have their buckwheat cooked before\ +we reach our quarters."\ +\ +"Give me a biscuit, you devil!"\ +\ +"And did you give me tobacco yesterday? That's just it, friend! Ah,\ +well, never mind, here you are."\ +\ +"They might call a halt here or we'll have to do another four miles\ +without eating."\ +\ +"Wasn't it fine when those Germans gave us lifts! You just sit still and\ +are drawn along."\ +\ +"And here, friend, the people are quite beggarly. There they all seemed\ +to be Poles--all under the Russian crown--but here they're all regular\ +Germans."\ +\ +"Singers to the front" came the captain's order.\ +\ +And from the different ranks some twenty men ran to the front. A\ +drummer, their leader, turned round facing the singers, and flourishing\ +his arm, began a long-drawn-out soldiers' song, commencing with the\ +words: "Morning dawned, the sun was rising," and concluding: "On then,\ +brothers, on to glory, led by Father Kamenski." This song had been\ +composed in the Turkish campaign and now being sung in Austria, the only\ +change being that the words "Father Kamenski" were replaced by "Father\ +Kutuzov."\ +\ +Having jerked out these last words as soldiers do and waved his arms as\ +if flinging something to the ground, the drummer--a lean, handsome\ +soldier of forty--looked sternly at the singers and screwed up his eyes.\ +Then having satisfied himself that all eyes were fixed on him, he raised\ +both arms as if carefully lifting some invisible but precious object\ +above his head and, holding it there for some seconds, suddenly flung it\ +down and began:\ +\ +"Oh, my bower, oh, my bower...!"\ +\ +"Oh, my bower new...!" chimed in twenty voices, and the castanet player,\ +in spite of the burden of his equipment, rushed out to the front and,\ +walking backwards before the company, jerked his shoulders and\ +flourished his castanets as if threatening someone. The soldiers,\ +swinging their arms and keeping time spontaneously, marched with long\ +steps. Behind the company the sound of wheels, the creaking of springs,\ +and the tramp of horses' hoofs were heard. Kutuzov and his suite were\ +returning to the town. The commander-in-chief made a sign that the men\ +should continue to march at ease, and he and all his suite showed\ +pleasure at the sound of the singing and the sight of the dancing\ +soldier and the gay and smartly marching men. In the second file from\ +the right flank, beside which the carriage passed the company, a blue-\ +eyed soldier involuntarily attracted notice. It was Dolokhov marching\ +with particular grace and boldness in time to the song and looking at\ +those driving past as if he pitied all who were not at that moment\ +marching with the company. The hussar cornet of Kutuzov's suite who had\ +mimicked the regimental commander, fell back from the carriage and rode\ +up to Dolokhov.\ +\ +Hussar cornet Zherkov had at one time, in Petersburg, belonged to the\ +wild set led by Dolokhov. Zherkov had met Dolokhov abroad as a private\ +and had not seen fit to recognize him. But now that Kutuzov had spoken\ +to the gentleman ranker, he addressed him with the cordiality of an old\ +friend.\ +\ +"My dear fellow, how are you?" said he through the singing, making his\ +horse keep pace with the company.\ +\ +"How am I?" Dolokhov answered coldly. "I am as you see."\ +\ +The lively song gave a special flavor to the tone of free and easy\ +gaiety with which Zherkov spoke, and to the intentional coldness of\ +Dolokhov's reply.\ +\ +"And how do you get on with the officers?" inquired Zherkov.\ +\ +"All right. They are good fellows. And how have you wriggled onto the\ +staff?"\ +\ +"I was attached; I'm on duty."\ +\ +Both were silent.\ +\ +"She let the hawk fly upward from her wide right sleeve," went the song,\ +arousing an involuntary sensation of courage and cheerfulness. Their\ +conversation would probably have been different but for the effect of\ +that song.\ +\ +"Is it true that Austrians have been beaten?" asked Dolokhov.\ +\ +"The devil only knows! They say so."\ +\ +"I'm glad," answered Dolokhov briefly and clearly, as the song demanded.\ +\ +"I say, come round some evening and we'll have a game of faro!" said\ +Zherkov.\ +\ +"Why, have you too much money?"\ +\ +"Do come."\ +\ +"I can't. I've sworn not to. I won't drink and won't play till I get\ +reinstated."\ +\ +"Well, that's only till the first engagement."\ +\ +"We shall see."\ +\ +They were again silent.\ +\ +"Come if you need anything. One can at least be of use on the staff..."\ +\ +Dolokhov smiled. "Don't trouble. If I want anything, I won't beg--I'll\ +take it!"\ +\ +"Well, never mind; I only..."\ +\ +"And I only..."\ +\ +"Good-bye."\ +\ +"Good health..."\ +\ +\ +"It's a long, long way. To my native land..."\ +\ +Zherkov touched his horse with the spurs; it pranced excitedly from foot\ +to foot uncertain with which to start, then settled down, galloped past\ +the company, and overtook the carriage, still keeping time to the song.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER III\ +\ +On returning from the review, Kutuzov took the Austrian general into his\ +private room and, calling his adjutant, asked for some papers relating\ +to the condition of the troops on their arrival, and the letters that\ +had come from the Archduke Ferdinand, who was in command of the advanced\ +army. Prince Andrew Bolkonski came into the room with the required\ +papers. Kutuzov and the Austrian member of the Hofkriegsrath were\ +sitting at the table on which a plan was spread out.\ +\ +"Ah!..." said Kutuzov glancing at Bolkonski as if by this exclamation he\ +was asking the adjutant to wait, and he went on with the conversation in\ +French.\ +\ +"All I can say, General," said he with a pleasant elegance of expression\ +and intonation that obliged one to listen to each deliberately spoken\ +word. It was evident that Kutuzov himself listened with pleasure to his\ +own voice. "All I can say, General, is that if the matter depended on my\ +personal wishes, the will of His Majesty the Emperor Francis would have\ +been fulfilled long ago. I should long ago have joined the archduke. And\ +believe me on my honour that to me personally it would be a pleasure to\ +hand over the supreme command of the army into the hands of a better\ +informed and more skillful general--of whom Austria has so many--and to\ +lay down all this heavy responsibility. But circumstances are sometimes\ +too strong for us, General."\ +\ +And Kutuzov smiled in a way that seemed to say, "You are quite at\ +liberty not to believe me and I don't even care whether you do or not,\ +but you have no grounds for telling me so. And that is the whole point."\ +\ +The Austrian general looked dissatisfied, but had no option but to reply\ +in the same tone.\ +\ +"On the contrary," he said, in a querulous and angry tone that\ +contrasted with his flattering words, "on the contrary, your\ +excellency's participation in the common action is highly valued by His\ +Majesty; but we think the present delay is depriving the splendid\ +Russian troops and their commander of the laurels they have been\ +accustomed to win in their battles," he concluded his evidently\ +prearranged sentence.\ +\ +Kutuzov bowed with the same smile.\ +\ +"But that is my conviction, and judging by the last letter with which\ +His Highness the Archduke Ferdinand has honored me, I imagine that the\ +Austrian troops, under the direction of so skillful a leader as General\ +Mack, have by now already gained a decisive victory and no longer need\ +our aid," said Kutuzov.\ +\ +The general frowned. Though there was no definite news of an Austrian\ +defeat, there were many circumstances confirming the unfavorable rumors\ +that were afloat, and so Kutuzov's suggestion of an Austrian victory\ +sounded much like irony. But Kutuzov went on blandly smiling with the\ +same expression, which seemed to say that he had a right to suppose so.\ +And, in fact, the last letter he had received from Mack's army informed\ +him of a victory and stated strategically the position of the army was\ +very favorable.\ +\ +"Give me that letter," said Kutuzov turning to Prince Andrew. "Please\ +have a look at it"--and Kutuzov with an ironical smile about the corners\ +of his mouth read to the Austrian general the following passage, in\ +German, from the Archduke Ferdinand's letter:\ +\ +We have fully concentrated forces of nearly seventy thousand men with\ +which to attack and defeat the enemy should he cross the Lech. Also, as\ +we are masters of Ulm, we cannot be deprived of the advantage of\ +commanding both sides of the Danube, so that should the enemy not cross\ +the Lech, we can cross the Danube, throw ourselves on his line of\ +communications, recross the river lower down, and frustrate his\ +intention should he try to direct his whole force against our faithful\ +ally. We shall therefore confidently await the moment when the Imperial\ +Russian army will be fully equipped, and shall then, in conjunction with\ +it, easily find a way to prepare for the enemy the fate he deserves.\ +\ +Kutuzov sighed deeply on finishing this paragraph and looked at the\ +member of the Hofkriegsrath mildly and attentively.\ +\ +"But you know the wise maxim your excellency, advising one to expect the\ +worst," said the Austrian general, evidently wishing to have done with\ +jests and to come to business. He involuntarily looked round at the\ +aide-de-camp.\ +\ +"Excuse me, General," interrupted Kutuzov, also turning to Prince\ +Andrew. "Look here, my dear fellow, get from Kozlovski all the reports\ +from our scouts. Here are two letters from Count Nostitz and here is one\ +from His Highness the Archduke Ferdinand and here are these," he said,\ +handing him several papers, "make a neat memorandum in French out of all\ +this, showing all the news we have had of the movements of the Austrian\ +army, and then give it to his excellency."\ +\ +Prince Andrew bowed his head in token of having understood from the\ +first not only what had been said but also what Kutuzov would have liked\ +to tell him. He gathered up the papers and with a bow to both, stepped\ +softly over the carpet and went out into the waiting room.\ +\ +Though not much time had passed since Prince Andrew had left Russia, he\ +had changed greatly during that period. In the expression of his face,\ +in his movements, in his walk, scarcely a trace was left of his former\ +affected languor and indolence. He now looked like a man who has time to\ +think of the impression he makes on others, but is occupied with\ +agreeable and interesting work. His face expressed more satisfaction\ +with himself and those around him, his smile and glance were brighter\ +and more attractive.\ +\ +Kutuzov, whom he had overtaken in Poland, had received him very kindly,\ +promised not to forget him, distinguished him above the other adjutants,\ +and had taken him to Vienna and given him the more serious commissions.\ +From Vienna Kutuzov wrote to his old comrade, Prince Andrew's father.\ +\ +Your son bids fair to become an officer distinguished by his industry,\ +firmness, and expedition. I consider myself fortunate to have such a\ +subordinate by me.\ +\ +On Kutuzov's staff, among his fellow officers and in the army generally,\ +Prince Andrew had, as he had had in Petersburg society, two quite\ +opposite reputations. Some, a minority, acknowledged him to be different\ +from themselves and from everyone else, expected great things of him,\ +listened to him, admired, and imitated him, and with them Prince Andrew\ +was natural and pleasant. Others, the majority, disliked him and\ +considered him conceited, cold, and disagreeable. But among these people\ +Prince Andrew knew how to take his stand so that they respected and even\ +feared him.\ +\ +Coming out of Kutuzov's room into the waiting room with the papers in\ +his hand Prince Andrew came up to his comrade, the aide-de-camp on duty,\ +Kozlovski, who was sitting at the window with a book.\ +\ +"Well, Prince?" asked Kozlovski.\ +\ +"I am ordered to write a memorandum explaining why we are not\ +advancing."\ +\ +"And why is it?"\ +\ +Prince Andrew shrugged his shoulders.\ +\ +"Any news from Mack?"\ +\ +"No."\ +\ +"If it were true that he has been beaten, news would have come."\ +\ +"Probably," said Prince Andrew moving toward the outer door.\ +\ +But at that instant a tall Austrian general in a greatcoat, with the\ +order of Maria Theresa on his neck and a black bandage round his head,\ +who had evidently just arrived, entered quickly, slamming the door.\ +Prince Andrew stopped short.\ +\ +"Commander in Chief Kutuzov?" said the newly arrived general speaking\ +quickly with a harsh German accent, looking to both sides and advancing\ +straight toward the inner door.\ +\ +"The commander-in-chief is engaged," said Kozlovski, going hurriedly up\ +to the unknown general and blocking his way to the door. "Whom shall I\ +announce?"\ +\ +The unknown general looked disdainfully down at Kozlovski, who was\ +rather short, as if surprised that anyone should not know him.\ +\ +"The commander-in-chief is engaged," repeated Kozlovski calmly.\ +\ +The general's face clouded, his lips quivered and trembled. He took out\ +a notebook, hurriedly scribbled something in pencil, tore out the leaf,\ +gave it to Kozlovski, stepped quickly to the window, and threw himself\ +into a chair, gazing at those in the room as if asking, "Why do they\ +look at me?" Then he lifted his head, stretched his neck as if he\ +intended to say something, but immediately, with affected indifference,\ +began to hum to himself, producing a queer sound which immediately broke\ +off. The door of the private room opened and Kutuzov appeared in the\ +doorway. The general with the bandaged head bent forward as though\ +running away from some danger, and, making long, quick strides with his\ +thin legs, went up to Kutuzov.\ +\ +"Vous voyez le malheureux Mack," he uttered in a broken voice.\ +\ +Kutuzov's face as he stood in the open doorway remained perfectly\ +immobile for a few moments. Then wrinkles ran over his face like a wave\ +and his forehead became smooth again, he bowed his head respectfully,\ +closed his eyes, silently let Mack enter his room before him, and closed\ +the door himself behind him.\ +\ +The report which had been circulated that the Austrians had been beaten\ +and that the whole army had surrendered at Ulm proved to be correct.\ +Within half an hour adjutants had been sent in various directions with\ +orders which showed that the Russian troops, who had hitherto been\ +inactive, would also soon have to meet the enemy.\ +\ +Prince Andrew was one of those rare staff officers whose chief interest\ +lay in the general progress of the war. When he saw Mack and heard the\ +details of his disaster he understood that half the campaign was lost,\ +understood all the difficulties of the Russian army's position, and\ +vividly imagined what awaited it and the part he would have to play.\ +Involuntarily he felt a joyful agitation at the thought of the\ +humiliation of arrogant Austria and that in a week's time he might,\ +perhaps, see and take part in the first Russian encounter with the\ +French since Suvorov met them. He feared that Bonaparte's genius might\ +outweigh all the courage of the Russian troops, and at the same time\ +could not admit the idea of his hero being disgraced.\ +\ +Excited and irritated by these thoughts Prince Andrew went toward his\ +room to write to his father, to whom he wrote every day. In the corridor\ +he met Nesvitski, with whom he shared a room, and the wag Zherkov; they\ +were as usual laughing.\ +\ +"Why are you so glum?" asked Nesvitski noticing Prince Andrew's pale\ +face and glittering eyes.\ +\ +"There's nothing to be gay about," answered Bolkonski.\ +\ +Just as Prince Andrew met Nesvitski and Zherkov, there came toward them\ +from the other end of the corridor, Strauch, an Austrian general who on\ +Kutuzov's staff in charge of the provisioning of the Russian army, and\ +the member of the Hofkriegsrath who had arrived the previous evening.\ +There was room enough in the wide corridor for the generals to pass the\ +three officers quite easily, but Zherkov, pushing Nesvitski aside with\ +his arm, said in a breathless voice,\ +\ +"They're coming!... they're coming!... Stand aside, make way, please\ +make way!"\ +\ +The generals were passing by, looking as if they wished to avoid\ +embarrassing attentions. On the face of the wag Zherkov there suddenly\ +appeared a stupid smile of glee which he seemed unable to suppress.\ +\ +"Your excellency," said he in German, stepping forward and addressing\ +the Austrian general, "I have the honor to congratulate you."\ +\ +He bowed his head and scraped first with one foot and then with the\ +other, awkwardly, like a child at a dancing lesson.\ +\ +The member of the Hofkriegsrath looked at him severely but, seeing the\ +seriousness of his stupid smile, could not but give him a moment's\ +attention. He screwed up his eyes showing that he was listening.\ +\ +"I have the honor to congratulate you. General Mack has arrived, quite\ +well, only a little bruised just here," he added, pointing with a\ +beaming smile to his head.\ +\ +The general frowned, turned away, and went on.\ +\ +"Gott, wie naiv!" * said he angrily, after he had gone a few steps.\ +\ +\ +* "Good God, what simplicity!"\ +\ +Nesvitski with a laugh threw his arms round Prince Andrew, but\ +Bolkonski, turning still paler, pushed him away with an angry look and\ +turned to Zherkov. The nervous irritation aroused by the appearance of\ +Mack, the news of his defeat, and the thought of what lay before the\ +Russian army found vent in anger at Zherkov's untimely jest.\ +\ +"If you, sir, choose to make a buffoon of yourself," he said sharply,\ +with a slight trembling of the lower jaw, "I can't prevent your doing\ +so; but I warn you that if you dare to play the fool in my presence, I\ +will teach you to behave yourself."\ +\ +Nesvitski and Zherkov were so surprised by this outburst that they gazed\ +at Bolkonski silently with wide-open eyes.\ +\ +"What's the matter? I only congratulated them," said Zherkov.\ +\ +"I am not jesting with you; please be silent!" cried Bolkonski, and\ +taking Nesvitski's arm he left Zherkov, who did not know what to say.\ +\ +"Come, what's the matter, old fellow?" said Nesvitski trying to soothe\ +him.\ +\ +"What's the matter?" exclaimed Prince Andrew standing still in his\ +excitement. "Don't you understand that either we are officers serving\ +our Tsar and our country, rejoicing in the successes and grieving at the\ +misfortunes of our common cause, or we are merely lackeys who care\ +nothing for their master's business. Quarante mille hommes massacres et\ +l'armee de nos allies detruite, et vous trouvez la le mot pour rire," *\ +he said, as if strengthening his views by this French sentence. "C'est\ +bien pour un garcon de rien comme cet individu dont vous avez fait un\ +ami, mais pas pour vous, pas pour vous. *(2) Only a hobbledehoy could\ +amuse himself in this way," he added in Russian--but pronouncing the\ +word with a French accent--having noticed that Zherkov could still hear\ +him.\ +\ +\ +* "Forty thousand men massacred and the army of our allies destroyed,\ +and you find that a cause for jesting!"\ +\ +* (2) "It is all very well for that good-for-nothing fellow of whom you\ +have made a friend, but not for you, not for you."\ +\ +He waited a moment to see whether the cornet would answer, but he turned\ +and went out of the corridor.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER IV\ +\ +The Pavlograd Hussars were stationed two miles from Braunau. The\ +squadron in which Nicholas Rostov served as a cadet was quartered in the\ +German village of Salzeneck. The best quarters in the village were\ +assigned to cavalry-captain Denisov, the squadron commander, known\ +throughout the whole cavalry division as Vaska Denisov. Cadet Rostov,\ +ever since he had overtaken the regiment in Poland, had lived with the\ +squadron commander.\ +\ +On October 11, the day when all was astir at headquarters over the news\ +of Mack's defeat, the camp life of the officers of this squadron was\ +proceeding as usual. Denisov, who had been losing at cards all night,\ +had not yet come home when Rostov rode back early in the morning from a\ +foraging expedition. Rostov in his cadet uniform, with a jerk to his\ +horse, rode up to the porch, swung his leg over the saddle with a supple\ +youthful movement, stood for a moment in the stirrup as if loathe to\ +part from his horse, and at last sprang down and called to his orderly.\ +\ +"Ah, Bondarenko, dear friend!" said he to the hussar who rushed up\ +headlong to the horse. "Walk him up and down, my dear fellow," he\ +continued, with that gay brotherly cordiality which goodhearted young\ +people show to everyone when they are happy.\ +\ +"Yes, your excellency," answered the Ukrainian gaily, tossing his head.\ +\ +"Mind, walk him up and down well!"\ +\ +Another hussar also rushed toward the horse, but Bondarenko had already\ +thrown the reins of the snaffle bridle over the horse's head. It was\ +evident that the cadet was liberal with his tips and that it paid to\ +serve him. Rostov patted the horse's neck and then his flank, and\ +lingered for a moment.\ +\ +"Splendid! What a horse he will be!" he thought with a smile, and\ +holding up his saber, his spurs jingling, he ran up the steps of the\ +porch. His landlord, who in a waistcoat and a pointed cap, pitchfork in\ +hand, was clearing manure from the cowhouse, looked out, and his face\ +immediately brightened on seeing Rostov. "Schon gut Morgen! Schon gut\ +Morgen!" * he said winking with a merry smile, evidently pleased to\ +greet the young man.\ +\ +\ +* "A very good morning! A very good morning!"\ +\ +"Schon fleissig?" * said Rostov with the same gay brotherly smile which\ +did not leave his eager face. "Hoch Oestreicher! Hoch Russen! Kaiser\ +Alexander hoch!" *(2) said he, quoting words often repeated by the\ +German landlord.\ +\ +\ +* "Busy already?"\ +\ +* (2) "Hurrah for the Austrians! Hurrah for the Russians! Hurrah for\ +Emperor Alexander!"\ +\ +The German laughed, came out of the cowshed, pulled off his cap, and\ +waving it above his head cried:\ +\ +"Und die ganze Welt hoch!" *\ +\ +\ +* "And hurrah for the whole world!"\ +\ +Rostov waved his cap above his head like the German and cried laughing,\ +"Und vivat die ganze Welt!" Though neither the German cleaning his\ +cowshed nor Rostov back with his platoon from foraging for hay had any\ +reason for rejoicing, they looked at each other with joyful delight and\ +brotherly love, wagged their heads in token of their mutual affection,\ +and parted smiling, the German returning to his cowshed and Rostov going\ +to the cottage he occupied with Denisov.\ +\ +"What about your master?" he asked Lavrushka, Denisov's orderly, whom\ +all the regiment knew for a rogue.\ +\ +"Hasn't been in since the evening. Must have been losing," answered\ +Lavrushka. "I know by now, if he wins he comes back early to brag about\ +it, but if he stays out till morning it means he's lost and will come\ +back in a rage. Will you have coffee?"\ +\ +"Yes, bring some."\ +\ +Ten minutes later Lavrushka brought the coffee. "He's coming!" said he.\ +"Now for trouble!" Rostov looked out of the window and saw Denisov\ +coming home. Denisov was a small man with a red face, sparkling black\ +eyes, and black tousled mustache and hair. He wore an unfastened cloak,\ +wide breeches hanging down in creases, and a crumpled shako on the back\ +of his head. He came up to the porch gloomily, hanging his head.\ +\ +"Lavwuska!" he shouted loudly and angrily, "take it off, blockhead!"\ +\ +"Well, I am taking it off," replied Lavrushka's voice.\ +\ +"Ah, you're up already," said Denisov, entering the room.\ +\ +"Long ago," answered Rostov, "I have already been for the hay, and have\ +seen Fraulein Mathilde."\ +\ +"Weally! And I've been losing, bwother. I lost yesterday like a damned\ +fool!" cried Denisov, not pronouncing his r's. "Such ill luck! Such ill\ +luck. As soon as you left, it began and went on. Hullo there! Tea!"\ +\ +Puckering up his face though smiling, and showing his short strong\ +teeth, he began with stubby fingers of both hands to ruffle up his thick\ +tangled black hair.\ +\ +"And what devil made me go to that wat?" (an officer nicknamed "the\ +rat") he said, rubbing his forehead and whole face with both hands.\ +"Just fancy, he didn't let me win a single cahd, not one cahd."\ +\ +He took the lighted pipe that was offered to him, gripped it in his\ +fist, and tapped it on the floor, making the sparks fly, while he\ +continued to shout.\ +\ +"He lets one win the singles and collahs it as soon as one doubles it;\ +gives the singles and snatches the doubles!"\ +\ +He scattered the burning tobacco, smashed the pipe, and threw it away.\ +Then he remained silent for a while, and all at once looked cheerfully\ +with his glittering, black eyes at Rostov.\ +\ +"If at least we had some women here; but there's nothing foh one to do\ +but dwink. If we could only get to fighting soon. Hullo, who's there?"\ +he said, turning to the door as he heard a tread of heavy boots and the\ +clinking of spurs that came to a stop, and a respectful cough.\ +\ +"The squadron quartermaster!" said Lavrushka.\ +\ +Denisov's face puckered still more.\ +\ +"Wetched!" he muttered, throwing down a purse with some gold in it.\ +"Wostov, deah fellow, just see how much there is left and shove the\ +purse undah the pillow," he said, and went out to the quartermaster.\ +\ +Rostov took the money and, mechanically arranging the old and new coins\ +in separate piles, began counting them.\ +\ +"Ah! Telyanin! How d'ye do? They plucked me last night," came Denisov's\ +voice from the next room.\ +\ +"Where? At Bykov's, at the rat's... I knew it," replied a piping voice,\ +and Lieutenant Telyanin, a small officer of the same squadron, entered\ +the room.\ +\ +Rostov thrust the purse under the pillow and shook the damp little hand\ +which was offered him. Telyanin for some reason had been transferred\ +from the Guards just before this campaign. He behaved very well in the\ +regiment but was not liked; Rostov especially detested him and was\ +unable to overcome or conceal his groundless antipathy to the man.\ +\ +"Well, young cavalryman, how is my Rook behaving?" he asked. (Rook was a\ +young horse Telyanin had sold to Rostov.)\ +\ +The lieutenant never looked the man he was speaking to straight in the\ +face; his eyes continually wandered from one object to another.\ +\ +"I saw you riding this morning..." he added.\ +\ +"Oh, he's all right, a good horse," answered Rostov, though the horse\ +for which he had paid seven hundred rubbles was not worth half that sum.\ +"He's begun to go a little lame on the left foreleg," he added.\ +\ +"The hoof's cracked! That's nothing. I'll teach you what to do and show\ +you what kind of rivet to use."\ +\ +"Yes, please do," said Rostov.\ +\ +"I'll show you, I'll show you! It's not a secret. And it's a horse\ +you'll thank me for."\ +\ +"Then I'll have it brought round," said Rostov wishing to avoid\ +Telyanin, and he went out to give the order.\ +\ +In the passage Denisov, with a pipe, was squatting on the threshold\ +facing the quartermaster who was reporting to him. On seeing Rostov,\ +Denisov screwed up his face and pointing over his shoulder with his\ +thumb to the room where Telyanin was sitting, he frowned and gave a\ +shudder of disgust.\ +\ +"Ugh! I don't like that fellow," he said, regardless of the\ +quartermaster's presence.\ +\ +Rostov shrugged his shoulders as much as to say: "Nor do I, but what's\ +one to do?" and, having given his order, he returned to Telyanin.\ +\ +Telyanin was sitting in the same indolent pose in which Rostov had left\ +him, rubbing his small white hands.\ +\ +"Well there certainly are disgusting people," thought Rostov as he\ +entered.\ +\ +"Have you told them to bring the horse?" asked Telyanin, getting up and\ +looking carelessly about him.\ +\ +"I have."\ +\ +"Let us go ourselves. I only came round to ask Denisov about yesterday's\ +order. Have you got it, Denisov?"\ +\ +"Not yet. But where are you off to?"\ +\ +"I want to teach this young man how to shoe a horse," said Telyanin.\ +\ +They went through the porch and into the stable. The lieutenant\ +explained how to rivet the hoof and went away to his own quarters.\ +\ +When Rostov went back there was a bottle of vodka and a sausage on the\ +table. Denisov was sitting there scratching with his pen on a sheet of\ +paper. He looked gloomily in Rostov's face and said: "I am witing to\ +her."\ +\ +He leaned his elbows on the table with his pen in his hand and,\ +evidently glad of a chance to say quicker in words what he wanted to\ +write, told Rostov the contents of his letter.\ +\ +"You see, my fwiend," he said, "we sleep when we don't love. We are\ +childwen of the dust... but one falls in love and one is a God, one is\ +pua' as on the first day of cweation... Who's that now? Send him to the\ +devil, I'm busy!" he shouted to Lavrushka, who went up to him not in the\ +least abashed.\ +\ +"Who should it be? You yourself told him to come. It's the quartermaster\ +for the money."\ +\ +Denisov frowned and was about to shout some reply but stopped.\ +\ +"Wetched business," he muttered to himself. "How much is left in the\ +puhse?" he asked, turning to Rostov.\ +\ +"Seven new and three old imperials."\ +\ +"Oh, it's wetched! Well, what are you standing there for, you sca'cwow?\ +Call the quahtehmasteh," he shouted to Lavrushka.\ +\ +"Please, Denisov, let me lend you some: I have some, you know," said\ +Rostov, blushing.\ +\ +"Don't like bowwowing from my own fellows, I don't," growled Denisov.\ +\ +"But if you won't accept money from me like a comrade, you will offend\ +me. Really I have some," Rostov repeated.\ +\ +"No, I tell you."\ +\ +And Denisov went to the bed to get the purse from under the pillow.\ +\ +"Where have you put it, Wostov?"\ +\ +"Under the lower pillow."\ +\ +"It's not there."\ +\ +Denisov threw both pillows on the floor. The purse was not there.\ +\ +"That's a miwacle."\ +\ +"Wait, haven't you dropped it?" said Rostov, picking up the pillows one\ +at a time and shaking them.\ +\ +He pulled off the quilt and shook it. The purse was not there.\ +\ +"Dear me, can I have forgotten? No, I remember thinking that you kept it\ +under your head like a treasure," said Rostov. "I put it just here.\ +Where is it?" he asked, turning to Lavrushka.\ +\ +"I haven't been in the room. It must be where you put it."\ +\ +"But it isn't?..."\ +\ +"You're always like that; you thwow a thing down anywhere and forget it.\ +Feel in your pockets."\ +\ +"No, if I hadn't thought of it being a treasure," said Rostov, "but I\ +remember putting it there."\ +\ +Lavrushka turned all the bedding over, looked under the bed and under\ +the table, searched everywhere, and stood still in the middle of the\ +room. Denisov silently watched Lavrushka's movements, and when the\ +latter threw up his arms in surprise saying it was nowhere to be found\ +Denisov glanced at Rostov.\ +\ +"Wostov, you've not been playing schoolboy twicks..."\ +\ +Rostov felt Denisov's gaze fixed on him, raised his eyes, and instantly\ +dropped them again. All the blood which had seemed congested somewhere\ +below his throat rushed to his face and eyes. He could not draw breath.\ +\ +"And there hasn't been anyone in the room except the lieutenant and\ +yourselves. It must be here somewhere," said Lavrushka.\ +\ +"Now then, you devil's puppet, look alive and hunt for it!" shouted\ +Denisov, suddenly, turning purple and rushing at the man with a\ +threatening gesture. "If the purse isn't found I'll flog you, I'll flog\ +you all."\ +\ +Rostov, his eyes avoiding Denisov, began buttoning his coat, buckled on\ +his saber, and put on his cap.\ +\ +"I must have that purse, I tell you," shouted Denisov, shaking his\ +orderly by the shoulders and knocking him against the wall.\ +\ +"Denisov, let him alone, I know who has taken it," said Rostov, going\ +toward the door without raising his eyes. Denisov paused, thought a\ +moment, and, evidently understanding what Rostov hinted at, seized his\ +arm.\ +\ +"Nonsense!" he cried, and the veins on his forehead and neck stood out\ +like cords. "You are mad, I tell you. I won't allow it. The purse is\ +here! I'll flay this scoundwel alive, and it will be found."\ +\ +"I know who has taken it," repeated Rostov in an unsteady voice, and\ +went to the door.\ +\ +"And I tell you, don't you dahe to do it!" shouted Denisov, rushing at\ +the cadet to restrain him.\ +\ +But Rostov pulled away his arm and, with as much anger as though Denisov\ +were his worst enemy, firmly fixed his eyes directly on his face.\ +\ +"Do you understand what you're saying?" he said in a trembling voice.\ +"There was no one else in the room except myself. So that if it is not\ +so, then..."\ +\ +He could not finish, and ran out of the room.\ +\ +"Ah, may the devil take you and evewybody," were the last words Rostov\ +heard.\ +\ +Rostov went to Telyanin's quarters.\ +\ +"The master is not in, he's gone to headquarters," said Telyanin's\ +orderly. "Has something happened?" he added, surprised at the cadet's\ +troubled face.\ +\ +"No, nothing."\ +\ +"You've only just missed him," said the orderly.\ +\ +The headquarters were situated two miles away from Salzeneck, and\ +Rostov, without returning home, took a horse and rode there. There was\ +an inn in the village which the officers frequented. Rostov rode up to\ +it and saw Telyanin's horse at the porch.\ +\ +In the second room of the inn the lieutenant was sitting over a dish of\ +sausages and a bottle of wine.\ +\ +"Ah, you've come here too, young man!" he said, smiling and raising his\ +eyebrows.\ +\ +"Yes," said Rostov as if it cost him a great deal to utter the word; and\ +he sat down at the nearest table.\ +\ +Both were silent. There were two Germans and a Russian officer in the\ +room. No one spoke and the only sounds heard were the clatter of knives\ +and the munching of the lieutenant.\ +\ +When Telyanin had finished his lunch he took out of his pocket a double\ +purse and, drawing its rings aside with his small, white, turned-up\ +fingers, drew out a gold imperial, and lifting his eyebrows gave it to\ +the waiter.\ +\ +"Please be quick," he said.\ +\ +The coin was a new one. Rostov rose and went up to Telyanin.\ +\ +"Allow me to look at your purse," he said in a low, almost inaudible,\ +voice.\ +\ +With shifting eyes but eyebrows still raised, Telyanin handed him the\ +purse.\ +\ +"Yes, it's a nice purse. Yes, yes," he said, growing suddenly pale, and\ +added, "Look at it, young man."\ +\ +Rostov took the purse in his hand, examined it and the money in it, and\ +looked at Telyanin. The lieutenant was looking about in his usual way\ +and suddenly seemed to grow very merry.\ +\ +"If we get to Vienna I'll get rid of it there but in these wretched\ +little towns there's nowhere to spend it," said he. "Well, let me have\ +it, young man, I'm going."\ +\ +Rostov did not speak.\ +\ +"And you? Are you going to have lunch too? They feed you quite decently\ +here," continued Telyanin. "Now then, let me have it."\ +\ +He stretched out his hand to take hold of the purse. Rostov let go of\ +it. Telyanin took the purse and began carelessly slipping it into the\ +pocket of his riding breeches, with his eyebrows lifted and his mouth\ +slightly open, as if to say, "Yes, yes, I am putting my purse in my\ +pocket and that's quite simple and is no one else's business."\ +\ +"Well, young man?" he said with a sigh, and from under his lifted brows\ +he glanced into Rostov's eyes.\ +\ +Some flash as of an electric spark shot from Telyanin's eyes to Rostov's\ +and back, and back again and again in an instant.\ +\ +"Come here," said Rostov, catching hold of Telyanin's arm and almost\ +dragging him to the window. "That money is Denisov's; you took it..." he\ +whispered just above Telyanin's ear.\ +\ +"What? What? How dare you? What?" said Telyanin.\ +\ +But these words came like a piteous, despairing cry and an entreaty for\ +pardon. As soon as Rostov heard them, an enormous load of doubt fell\ +from him. He was glad, and at the same instant began to pity the\ +miserable man who stood before him, but the task he had begun had to be\ +completed.\ +\ +"Heaven only knows what the people here may imagine," muttered Telyanin,\ +taking up his cap and moving toward a small empty room. "We must have an\ +explanation..."\ +\ +"I know it and shall prove it," said Rostov.\ +\ +"I..."\ +\ +Every muscle of Telyanin's pale, terrified face began to quiver, his\ +eyes still shifted from side to side but with a downward look not rising\ +to Rostov's face, and his sobs were audible.\ +\ +"Count!... Don't ruin a young fellow... here is this wretched money,\ +take it..." He threw it on the table. "I have an old father and\ +mother!..."\ +\ +Rostov took the money, avoiding Telyanin's eyes, and went out of the\ +room without a word. But at the door he stopped and then retraced his\ +steps. "O God," he said with tears in his eyes, "how could you do it?"\ +\ +"Count..." said Telyanin drawing nearer to him.\ +\ +"Don't touch me," said Rostov, drawing back. "If you need it, take the\ +money," and he threw the purse to him and ran out of the inn.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER V\ +\ +That same evening there was an animated discussion among the squadron's\ +officers in Denisov's quarters.\ +\ +"And I tell you, Rostov, that you must apologize to the colonel!" said a\ +tall, grizzly-haired staff captain, with enormous mustaches and many\ +wrinkles on his large features, to Rostov who was crimson with\ +excitement.\ +\ +The staff captain, Kirsten, had twice been reduced to the ranks for\ +affairs of honor and had twice regained his commission.\ +\ +"I will allow no one to call me a liar!" cried Rostov. "He told me I\ +lied, and I told him he lied. And there it rests. He may keep me on duty\ +every day, or may place me under arrest, but no one can make me\ +apologize, because if he, as commander of this regiment, thinks it\ +beneath his dignity to give me satisfaction, then..."\ +\ +"You just wait a moment, my dear fellow, and listen," interrupted the\ +staff captain in his deep bass, calmly stroking his long mustache. "You\ +tell the colonel in the presence of other officers that an officer has\ +stolen..."\ +\ +"I'm not to blame that the conversation began in the presence of other\ +officers. Perhaps I ought not to have spoken before them, but I am not a\ +diplomatist. That's why I joined the hussars, thinking that here one\ +would not need finesse; and he tells me that I am lying--so let him give\ +me satisfaction..."\ +\ +"That's all right. No one thinks you a coward, but that's not the point.\ +Ask Denisov whether it is not out of the question for a cadet to demand\ +satisfaction of his regimental commander?"\ +\ +Denisov sat gloomily biting his mustache and listening to the\ +conversation, evidently with no wish to take part in it. He answered the\ +staff captain's question by a disapproving shake of his head.\ +\ +"You speak to the colonel about this nasty business before other\ +officers," continued the staff captain, "and Bogdanich" (the colonel was\ +called Bogdanich) "shuts you up."\ +\ +"He did not shut me up, he said I was telling an untruth."\ +\ +"Well, have it so, and you talked a lot of nonsense to him and must\ +apologize."\ +\ +"Not on any account!" exclaimed Rostov.\ +\ +"I did not expect this of you," said the staff captain seriously and\ +severely. "You don't wish to apologize, but, man, it's not only to him\ +but to the whole regiment--all of us--you're to blame all round. The\ +case is this: you ought to have thought the matter over and taken\ +advice; but no, you go and blurt it all straight out before the\ +officers. Now what was the colonel to do? Have the officer tried and\ +disgrace the whole regiment? Disgrace the whole regiment because of one\ +scoundrel? Is that how you look at it? We don't see it like that. And\ +Bogdanich was a brick: he told you you were saying what was not true.\ +It's not pleasant, but what's to be done, my dear fellow? You landed\ +yourself in it. And now, when one wants to smooth the thing over, some\ +conceit prevents your apologizing, and you wish to make the whole affair\ +public. You are offended at being put on duty a bit, but why not\ +apologize to an old and honorable officer? Whatever Bogdanich may be,\ +anyway he is an honorable and brave old colonel! You're quick at taking\ +offense, but you don't mind disgracing the whole regiment!" The staff\ +captain's voice began to tremble. "You have been in the regiment next to\ +no time, my lad, you're here today and tomorrow you'll be appointed\ +adjutant somewhere and can snap your fingers when it is said 'There are\ +thieves among the Pavlograd officers!' But it's not all the same to us!\ +Am I not right, Denisov? It's not the same!"\ +\ +Denisov remained silent and did not move, but occasionally looked with\ +his glittering black eyes at Rostov.\ +\ +"You value your own pride and don't wish to apologize," continued the\ +staff captain, "but we old fellows, who have grown up in and, God\ +willing, are going to die in the regiment, we prize the honor of the\ +regiment, and Bogdanich knows it. Oh, we do prize it, old fellow! And\ +all this is not right, it's not right! You may take offense or not but I\ +always stick to mother truth. It's not right!"\ +\ +And the staff captain rose and turned away from Rostov.\ +\ +\ +"That's twue, devil take it!" shouted Denisov, jumping up. "Now then,\ +Wostov, now then!"\ +\ +Rostov, growing red and pale alternately, looked first at one officer\ +and then at the other.\ +\ +"No, gentlemen, no... you mustn't think... I quite understand. You're\ +wrong to think that of me... I... for me... for the honor of the\ +regiment I'd... Ah well, I'll show that in action, and for me the honor\ +of the flag... Well, never mind, it's true I'm to blame, to blame all\ +round. Well, what else do you want?..."\ +\ +"Come, that's right, Count!" cried the staff captain, turning round and\ +clapping Rostov on the shoulder with his big hand.\ +\ +"I tell you," shouted Denisov, "he's a fine fellow."\ +\ +"That's better, Count," said the staff captain, beginning to address\ +Rostov by his title, as if in recognition of his confession. "Go and\ +apologize, your excellency. Yes, go!"\ +\ +"Gentlemen, I'll do anything. No one shall hear a word from me," said\ +Rostov in an imploring voice, "but I can't apologize, by God I can't, do\ +what you will! How can I go and apologize like a little boy asking\ +forgiveness?"\ +\ +Denisov began to laugh.\ +\ +"It'll be worse for you. Bogdanich is vindictive and you'll pay for your\ +obstinacy," said Kirsten.\ +\ +"No, on my word it's not obstinacy! I can't describe the feeling. I\ +can't..."\ +\ +"Well, it's as you like," said the staff captain. "And what has become\ +of that scoundrel?" he asked Denisov.\ +\ +"He has weported himself sick, he's to be stwuck off the list tomowwow,"\ +muttered Denisov.\ +\ +"It is an illness, there's no other way of explaining it," said the\ +staff captain.\ +\ +"Illness or not, he'd better not cwoss my path. I'd kill him!" shouted\ +Denisov in a bloodthirsty tone.\ +\ +Just then Zherkov entered the room.\ +\ +"What brings you here?" cried the officers turning to the newcomer.\ +\ +"We're to go into action, gentlemen! Mack has surrendered with his whole\ +army."\ +\ +"It's not true!"\ +\ +"I've seen him myself!"\ +\ +"What? Saw the real Mack? With hands and feet?"\ +\ +"Into action! Into action! Bring him a bottle for such news! But how did\ +you come here?"\ +\ +"I've been sent back to the regiment all on account of that devil, Mack.\ +An Austrian general complained of me. I congratulated him on Mack's\ +arrival... What's the matter, Rostov? You look as if you'd just come out\ +of a hot bath."\ +\ +"Oh, my dear fellow, we're in such a stew here these last two days."\ +\ +The regimental adjutant came in and confirmed the news brought by\ +Zherkov. They were under orders to advance next day.\ +\ +"We're going into action, gentlemen!"\ +\ +"Well, thank God! We've been sitting here too long!"\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER VI\ +\ +Kutuzov fell back toward Vienna, destroying behind him the bridges over\ +the rivers Inn (at Braunau) and Traun (near Linz). On October 23 the\ +Russian troops were crossing the river Enns. At midday the Russian\ +baggage train, the artillery, and columns of troops were defiling\ +through the town of Enns on both sides of the bridge.\ +\ +It was a warm, rainy, autumnal day. The wide expanse that opened out\ +before the heights on which the Russian batteries stood guarding the\ +bridge was at times veiled by a diaphanous curtain of slanting rain, and\ +then, suddenly spread out in the sunlight, far-distant objects could be\ +clearly seen glittering as though freshly varnished. Down below, the\ +little town could be seen with its white, red-roofed houses, its\ +cathedral, and its bridge, on both sides of which streamed jostling\ +masses of Russian troops. At the bend of the Danube, vessels, an island,\ +and a castle with a park surrounded by the waters of the confluence of\ +the Enns and the Danube became visible, and the rocky left bank of the\ +Danube covered with pine forests, with a mystic background of green\ +treetops and bluish gorges. The turrets of a convent stood out beyond a\ +wild virgin pine forest, and far away on the other side of the Enns the\ +enemy's horse patrols could be discerned.\ +\ +Among the field guns on the brow of the hill the general in command of\ +the rearguard stood with a staff officer, scanning the country through\ +his fieldglass. A little behind them Nesvitski, who had been sent to the\ +rearguard by the commander-in-chief, was sitting on the trail of a gun\ +carriage. A Cossack who accompanied him had handed him a knapsack and a\ +flask, and Nesvitski was treating some officers to pies and real\ +doppelkummel. The officers gladly gathered round him, some on their\ +knees, some squatting Turkish fashion on the wet grass.\ +\ +"Yes, the Austrian prince who built that castle was no fool. It's a fine\ +place! Why are you not eating anything, gentlemen?" Nesvitski was\ +saying.\ +\ +"Thank you very much, Prince," answered one of the officers, pleased to\ +be talking to a staff officer of such importance. "It's a lovely place!\ +We passed close to the park and saw two deer... and what a splendid\ +house!"\ +\ +"Look, Prince," said another, who would have dearly liked to take\ +another pie but felt shy, and therefore pretended to be examining the\ +countryside--"See, our infantrymen have already got there. Look there in\ +the meadow behind the village, three of them are dragging something.\ +They'll ransack that castle," he remarked with evident approval.\ +\ +"So they will," said Nesvitski. "No, but what I should like," added he,\ +munching a pie in his moist-lipped handsome mouth, "would be to slip in\ +over there."\ +\ +He pointed with a smile to a turreted nunnery, and his eyes narrowed and\ +gleamed.\ +\ +"That would be fine, gentlemen!"\ +\ +The officers laughed.\ +\ +"Just to flutter the nuns a bit. They say there are Italian girls among\ +them. On my word I'd give five years of my life for it!"\ +\ +"They must be feeling dull, too," said one of the bolder officers,\ +laughing.\ +\ +Meanwhile the staff officer standing in front pointed out something to\ +the general, who looked through his field glass.\ +\ +"Yes, so it is, so it is," said the general angrily, lowering the field\ +glass and shrugging his shoulders, "so it is! They'll be fired on at the\ +crossing. And why are they dawdling there?"\ +\ +On the opposite side the enemy could be seen by the naked eye, and from\ +their battery a milk-white cloud arose. Then came the distant report of\ +a shot, and our troops could be seen hurrying to the crossing.\ +\ +Nesvitski rose, puffing, and went up to the general, smiling.\ +\ +"Would not your excellency like a little refreshment?" he said.\ +\ +"It's a bad business," said the general without answering him, "our men\ +have been wasting time."\ +\ +"Hadn't I better ride over, your excellency?" asked Nesvitski.\ +\ +"Yes, please do," answered the general, and he repeated the order that\ +had already once been given in detail: "and tell the hussars that they\ +are to cross last and to fire the bridge as I ordered; and the\ +inflammable material on the bridge must be reinspected."\ +\ +"Very good," answered Nesvitski.\ +\ +He called the Cossack with his horse, told him to put away the knapsack\ +and flask, and swung his heavy person easily into the saddle.\ +\ +"I'll really call in on the nuns," he said to the officers who watched\ +him smilingly, and he rode off by the winding path down the hill.\ +\ +"Now then, let's see how far it will carry, Captain. Just try!" said the\ +general, turning to an artillery officer. "Have a little fun to pass the\ +time."\ +\ +"Crew, to your guns!" commanded the officer.\ +\ +In a moment the men came running gaily from their campfires and began\ +loading.\ +\ +"One!" came the command.\ +\ +Number one jumped briskly aside. The gun rang out with a deafening\ +metallic roar, and a whistling grenade flew above the heads of our\ +troops below the hill and fell far short of the enemy, a little smoke\ +showing the spot where it burst.\ +\ +The faces of officers and men brightened up at the sound. Everyone got\ +up and began watching the movements of our troops below, as plainly\ +visible as if but a stone's throw away, and the movements of the\ +approaching enemy farther off. At the same instant the sun came fully\ +out from behind the clouds, and the clear sound of the solitary shot and\ +the brilliance of the bright sunshine merged in a single joyous and\ +spirited impression.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER VII\ +\ +Two of the enemy's shots had already flown across the bridge, where\ +there was a crush. Halfway across stood Prince Nesvitski, who had\ +alighted from his horse and whose big body was jammed against the\ +railings. He looked back laughing to the Cossack who stood a few steps\ +behind him holding two horses by their bridles. Each time Prince\ +Nesvitski tried to move on, soldiers and carts pushed him back again and\ +pressed him against the railings, and all he could do was to smile.\ +\ +"What a fine fellow you are, friend!" said the Cossack to a convoy\ +soldier with a wagon, who was pressing onto the infantrymen who were\ +crowded together close to his wheels and his horses. "What a fellow! You\ +can't wait a moment! Don't you see the general wants to pass?"\ +\ +But the convoyman took no notice of the word "general" and shouted at\ +the soldiers who were blocking his way. "Hi there, boys! Keep to the\ +left! Wait a bit." But the soldiers, crowded together shoulder to\ +shoulder, their bayonets interlocking, moved over the bridge in a dense\ +mass. Looking down over the rails Prince Nesvitski saw the rapid, noisy\ +little waves of the Enns, which rippling and eddying round the piles of\ +the bridge chased each other along. Looking on the bridge he saw equally\ +uniform living waves of soldiers, shoulder straps, covered shakos,\ +knapsacks, bayonets, long muskets, and, under the shakos, faces with\ +broad cheekbones, sunken cheeks, and listless tired expressions, and\ +feet that moved through the sticky mud that covered the planks of the\ +bridge. Sometimes through the monotonous waves of men, like a fleck of\ +white foam on the waves of the Enns, an officer, in a cloak and with a\ +type of face different from that of the men, squeezed his way along;\ +sometimes like a chip of wood whirling in the river, an hussar on foot,\ +an orderly, or a townsman was carried through the waves of infantry; and\ +sometimes like a log floating down the river, an officers' or company's\ +baggage wagon, piled high, leather covered, and hemmed in on all sides,\ +moved across the bridge.\ +\ +"It's as if a dam had burst," said the Cossack hopelessly. "Are there\ +many more of you to come?"\ +\ +"A million all but one!" replied a waggish soldier in a torn coat, with\ +a wink, and passed on followed by another, an old man.\ +\ +"If he" (he meant the enemy) "begins popping at the bridge now," said\ +the old soldier dismally to a comrade, "you'll forget to scratch\ +yourself."\ +\ +That soldier passed on, and after him came another sitting on a cart.\ +\ +"Where the devil have the leg bands been shoved to?" said an orderly,\ +running behind the cart and fumbling in the back of it.\ +\ +And he also passed on with the wagon. Then came some merry soldiers who\ +had evidently been drinking.\ +\ +"And then, old fellow, he gives him one in the teeth with the butt end\ +of his gun..." a soldier whose greatcoat was well tucked up said gaily,\ +with a wide swing of his arm.\ +\ +"Yes, the ham was just delicious..." answered another with a loud laugh.\ +And they, too, passed on, so that Nesvitski did not learn who had been\ +struck on the teeth, or what the ham had to do with it.\ +\ +"Bah! How they scurry. He just sends a ball and they think they'll all\ +be killed," a sergeant was saying angrily and reproachfully.\ +\ +"As it flies past me, Daddy, the ball I mean," said a young soldier with\ +an enormous mouth, hardly refraining from laughing, "I felt like dying\ +of fright. I did, 'pon my word, I got that frightened!" said he, as if\ +bragging of having been frightened.\ +\ +That one also passed. Then followed a cart unlike any that had gone\ +before. It was a German cart with a pair of horses led by a German, and\ +seemed loaded with a whole houseful of effects. A fine brindled cow with\ +a large udder was attached to the cart behind. A woman with an unweaned\ +baby, an old woman, and a healthy German girl with bright red cheeks\ +were sitting on some feather beds. Evidently these fugitives were\ +allowed to pass by special permission. The eyes of all the soldiers\ +turned toward the women, and while the vehicle was passing at foot pace\ +all the soldiers' remarks related to the two young ones. Every face bore\ +almost the same smile, expressing unseemly thoughts about the women.\ +\ +"Just see, the German sausage is making tracks, too!"\ +\ +"Sell me the missis," said another soldier, addressing the German, who,\ +angry and frightened, strode energetically along with downcast eyes.\ +\ +"See how smart she's made herself! Oh, the devils!"\ +\ +"There, Fedotov, you should be quartered on them!"\ +\ +"I have seen as much before now, mate!"\ +\ +"Where are you going?" asked an infantry officer who was eating an\ +apple, also half smiling as he looked at the handsome girl.\ +\ +The German closed his eyes, signifying that he did not understand.\ +\ +"Take it if you like," said the officer, giving the girl an apple.\ +\ +The girl smiled and took it. Nesvitski like the rest of the men on the\ +bridge did not take his eyes off the women till they had passed. When\ +they had gone by, the same stream of soldiers followed, with the same\ +kind of talk, and at last all stopped. As often happens, the horses of a\ +convoy wagon became restive at the end of the bridge, and the whole\ +crowd had to wait.\ +\ +"And why are they stopping? There's no proper order!" said the soldiers.\ +"Where are you shoving to? Devil take you! Can't you wait? It'll be\ +worse if he fires the bridge. See, here's an officer jammed in too"--\ +different voices were saying in the crowd, as the men looked at one\ +another, and all pressed toward the exit from the bridge.\ +\ +Looking down at the waters of the Enns under the bridge, Nesvitski\ +suddenly heard a sound new to him, of something swiftly approaching...\ +something big, that splashed into the water.\ +\ +"Just see where it carries to!" a soldier near by said sternly, looking\ +round at the sound.\ +\ +"Encouraging us to get along quicker," said another uneasily.\ +\ +The crowd moved on again. Nesvitski realized that it was a cannon ball.\ +\ +"Hey, Cossack, my horse!" he said. "Now, then, you there! get out of the\ +way! Make way!"\ +\ +With great difficulty he managed to get to his horse, and shouting\ +continually he moved on. The soldiers squeezed themselves to make way\ +for him, but again pressed on him so that they jammed his leg, and those\ +nearest him were not to blame for they were themselves pressed still\ +harder from behind.\ +\ +"Nesvitski, Nesvitski! you numskull!" came a hoarse voice from behind\ +him.\ +\ +Nesvitski looked round and saw, some fifteen paces away but separated by\ +the living mass of moving infantry, Vaska Denisov, red and shaggy, with\ +his cap on the back of his black head and a cloak hanging jauntily over\ +his shoulder.\ +\ +"Tell these devils, these fiends, to let me pass!" shouted Denisov\ +evidently in a fit of rage, his coal-black eyes with their bloodshot\ +whites glittering and rolling as he waved his sheathed saber in a small\ +bare hand as red as his face.\ +\ +"Ah, Vaska!" joyfully replied Nesvitski. "What's up with you?"\ +\ +"The squadwon can't pass," shouted Vaska Denisov, showing his white\ +teeth fiercely and spurring his black thoroughbred Arab, which twitched\ +its ears as the bayonets touched it, and snorted, spurting white foam\ +from his bit, tramping the planks of the bridge with his hoofs, and\ +apparently ready to jump over the railings had his rider let him. "What\ +is this? They're like sheep! Just like sheep! Out of the way!... Let us\ +pass!... Stop there, you devil with the cart! I'll hack you with my\ +saber!" he shouted, actually drawing his saber from its scabbard and\ +flourishing it.\ +\ +The soldiers crowded against one another with terrified faces, and\ +Denisov joined Nesvitski.\ +\ +"How's it you're not drunk today?" said Nesvitski when the other had\ +ridden up to him.\ +\ +"They don't even give one time to dwink!" answered Vaska Denisov. "They\ +keep dwagging the wegiment to and fwo all day. If they mean to fight,\ +let's fight. But the devil knows what this is."\ +\ +"What a dandy you are today!" said Nesvitski, looking at Denisov's new\ +cloak and saddlecloth.\ +\ +Denisov smiled, took out of his sabretache a handkerchief that diffused\ +a smell of perfume, and put it to Nesvitski's nose.\ +\ +"Of course. I'm going into action! I've shaved, bwushed my teeth, and\ +scented myself."\ +\ +The imposing figure of Nesvitski followed by his Cossack, and the\ +determination of Denisov who flourished his sword and shouted\ +frantically, had such an effect that they managed to squeeze through to\ +the farther side of the bridge and stopped the infantry. Beside the\ +bridge Nesvitski found the colonel to whom he had to deliver the order,\ +and having done this he rode back.\ +\ +Having cleared the way Denisov stopped at the end of the bridge.\ +Carelessly holding in his stallion that was neighing and pawing the\ +ground, eager to rejoin its fellows, he watched his squadron draw\ +nearer. Then the clang of hoofs, as of several horses galloping,\ +resounded on the planks of the bridge, and the squadron, officers in\ +front and men four abreast, spread across the bridge and began to emerge\ +on his side of it.\ +\ +The infantry who had been stopped crowded near the bridge in the\ +trampled mud and gazed with that particular feeling of ill-will,\ +estrangement, and ridicule with which troops of different arms usually\ +encounter one another at the clean, smart hussars who moved past them in\ +regular order.\ +\ +"Smart lads! Only fit for a fair!" said one.\ +\ +"What good are they? They're led about just for show!" remarked another.\ +\ +"Don't kick up the dust, you infantry!" jested an hussar whose prancing\ +horse had splashed mud over some foot soldiers.\ +\ +"I'd like to put you on a two days' march with a knapsack! Your fine\ +cords would soon get a bit rubbed," said an infantryman, wiping the mud\ +off his face with his sleeve. "Perched up there, you're more like a bird\ +than a man."\ +\ +"There now, Zikin, they ought to put you on a horse. You'd look fine,"\ +said a corporal, chaffing a thin little soldier who bent under the\ +weight of his knapsack.\ +\ +"Take a stick between your legs, that'll suit you for a horse!" the\ +hussar shouted back.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER VIII\ +\ +The last of the infantry hurriedly crossed the bridge, squeezing\ +together as they approached it as if passing through a funnel. At last\ +the baggage wagons had all crossed, the crush was less, and the last\ +battalion came onto the bridge. Only Denisov's squadron of hussars\ +remained on the farther side of the bridge facing the enemy, who could\ +be seen from the hill on the opposite bank but was not yet visible from\ +the bridge, for the horizon as seen from the valley through which the\ +river flowed was formed by the rising ground only half a mile away. At\ +the foot of the hill lay wasteland over which a few groups of our\ +Cossack scouts were moving. Suddenly on the road at the top of the high\ +ground, artillery and troops in blue uniform were seen. These were the\ +French. A group of Cossack scouts retired down the hill at a trot. All\ +the officers and men of Denisov's squadron, though they tried to talk of\ +other things and to look in other directions, thought only of what was\ +there on the hilltop, and kept constantly looking at the patches\ +appearing on the skyline, which they knew to be the enemy's troops. The\ +weather had cleared again since noon and the sun was descending brightly\ +upon the Danube and the dark hills around it. It was calm, and at\ +intervals the bugle calls and the shouts of the enemy could be heard\ +from the hill. There was no one now between the squadron and the enemy\ +except a few scattered skirmishers. An empty space of some seven hundred\ +yards was all that separated them. The enemy ceased firing, and that\ +stern, threatening, inaccessible, and intangible line which separates\ +two hostile armies was all the more clearly felt.\ +\ +"One step beyond that boundary line which resembles the line dividing\ +the living from the dead lies uncertainty, suffering, and death. And\ +what is there? Who is there?--there beyond that field, that tree, that\ +roof lit up by the sun? No one knows, but one wants to know. You fear\ +and yet long to cross that line, and know that sooner or later it must\ +be crossed and you will have to find out what is there, just as you will\ +inevitably have to learn what lies the other side of death. But you are\ +strong, healthy, cheerful, and excited, and are surrounded by other such\ +excitedly animated and healthy men." So thinks, or at any rate feels,\ +anyone who comes in sight of the enemy, and that feeling gives a\ +particular glamour and glad keenness of impression to everything that\ +takes place at such moments.\ +\ +On the high ground where the enemy was, the smoke of a cannon rose, and\ +a ball flew whistling over the heads of the hussar squadron. The\ +officers who had been standing together rode off to their places. The\ +hussars began carefully aligning their horses. Silence fell on the whole\ +squadron. All were looking at the enemy in front and at the squadron\ +commander, awaiting the word of command. A second and a third cannon\ +ball flew past. Evidently they were firing at the hussars, but the balls\ +with rapid rhythmic whistle flew over the heads of the horsemen and fell\ +somewhere beyond them. The hussars did not look round, but at the sound\ +of each shot, as at the word of command, the whole squadron with its\ +rows of faces so alike yet so different, holding its breath while the\ +ball flew past, rose in the stirrups and sank back again. The soldiers\ +without turning their heads glanced at one another, curious to see their\ +comrades' impression. Every face, from Denisov's to that of the bugler,\ +showed one common expression of conflict, irritation, and excitement,\ +around chin and mouth. The quartermaster frowned, looking at the\ +soldiers as if threatening to punish them. Cadet Mironov ducked every\ +time a ball flew past. Rostov on the left flank, mounted on his Rook--a\ +handsome horse despite its game leg--had the happy air of a schoolboy\ +called up before a large audience for an examination in which he feels\ +sure he will distinguish himself. He was glancing at everyone with a\ +clear, bright expression, as if asking them to notice how calmly he sat\ +under fire. But despite himself, on his face too that same indication of\ +something new and stern showed round the mouth.\ +\ +"Who's that curtseying there? Cadet Miwonov! That's not wight! Look at\ +me," cried Denisov who, unable to keep still on one spot, kept turning\ +his horse in front of the squadron.\ +\ +The black, hairy, snub-nosed face of Vaska Denisov, and his whole short\ +sturdy figure with the sinewy hairy hand and stumpy fingers in which he\ +held the hilt of his naked saber, looked just as it usually did,\ +especially toward evening when he had emptied his second bottle; he was\ +only redder than usual. With his shaggy head thrown back like birds when\ +they drink, pressing his spurs mercilessly into the sides of his good\ +horse, Bedouin, and sitting as though falling backwards in the saddle,\ +he galloped to the other flank of the squadron and shouted in a hoarse\ +voice to the men to look to their pistols. He rode up to Kirsten. The\ +staff captain on his broad-backed, steady mare came at a walk to meet\ +him. His face with its long mustache was serious as always, only his\ +eyes were brighter than usual.\ +\ +"Well, what about it?" said he to Denisov. "It won't come to a fight.\ +You'll see--we shall retire."\ +\ +"The devil only knows what they're about!" muttered Denisov. "Ah,\ +Wostov," he cried noticing the cadet's bright face, "you've got it at\ +last."\ +\ +And he smiled approvingly, evidently pleased with the cadet. Rostov felt\ +perfectly happy. Just then the commander appeared on the bridge. Denisov\ +galloped up to him.\ +\ +"Your excellency! Let us attack them! I'll dwive them off."\ +\ +"Attack indeed!" said the colonel in a bored voice, puckering up his\ +face as if driving off a troublesome fly. "And why are you stopping\ +here? Don't you see the skirmishers are retreating? Lead the squadron\ +back."\ +\ +The squadron crossed the bridge and drew out of range of fire without\ +having lost a single man. The second squadron that had been in the front\ +line followed them across and the last Cossacks quitted the farther side\ +of the river.\ +\ +The two Pavlograd squadrons, having crossed the bridge, retired up the\ +hill one after the other. Their colonel, Karl Bogdanich Schubert, came\ +up to Denisov's squadron and rode at a footpace not far from Rostov,\ +without taking any notice of him although they were now meeting for the\ +first time since their encounter concerning Telyanin. Rostov, feeling\ +that he was at the front and in the power of a man toward whom he now\ +admitted that he had been to blame, did not lift his eyes from the\ +colonel's athletic back, his nape covered with light hair, and his red\ +neck. It seemed to Rostov that Bogdanich was only pretending not to\ +notice him, and that his whole aim now was to test the cadet's courage,\ +so he drew himself up and looked around him merrily; then it seemed to\ +him that Bogdanich rode so near in order to show him his courage. Next\ +he thought that his enemy would send the squadron on a desperate attack\ +just to punish him--Rostov. Then he imagined how, after the attack,\ +Bogdanich would come up to him as he lay wounded and would magnanimously\ +extend the hand of reconciliation.\ +\ +The high-shouldered figure of Zherkov, familiar to the Pavlograds as he\ +had but recently left their regiment, rode up to the colonel. After his\ +dismissal from headquarters Zherkov had not remained in the regiment,\ +saying he was not such a fool as to slave at the front when he could get\ +more rewards by doing nothing on the staff, and had succeeded in\ +attaching himself as an orderly officer to Prince Bagration. He now came\ +to his former chief with an order from the commander of the rear guard.\ +\ +"Colonel," he said, addressing Rostov's enemy with an air of gloomy\ +gravity and glancing round at his comrades, "there is an order to stop\ +and fire the bridge."\ +\ +"An order to who?" asked the colonel morosely.\ +\ +"I don't myself know 'to who,'" replied the cornet in a serious tone,\ +"but the prince told me to 'go and tell the colonel that the hussars\ +must return quickly and fire the bridge.'"\ +\ +Zherkov was followed by an officer of the suite who rode up to the\ +colonel of hussars with the same order. After him the stout Nesvitski\ +came galloping up on a Cossack horse that could scarcely carry his\ +weight.\ +\ +"How's this, Colonel?" he shouted as he approached. "I told you to fire\ +the bridge, and now someone has gone and blundered; they are all beside\ +themselves over there and one can't make anything out."\ +\ +The colonel deliberately stopped the regiment and turned to Nesvitski.\ +\ +"You spoke to me of inflammable material," said he, "but you said\ +nothing about firing it."\ +\ +"But, my dear sir," said Nesvitski as he drew up, taking off his cap and\ +smoothing his hair wet with perspiration with his plump hand, "wasn't I\ +telling you to fire the bridge, when inflammable material had been put\ +in position?"\ +\ +"I am not your 'dear sir,' Mr. Staff Officer, and you did not tell me to\ +burn the bridge! I know the service, and it is my habit orders strictly\ +to obey. You said the bridge would be burned, but who would it burn, I\ +could not know by the holy spirit!"\ +\ +"Ah, that's always the way!" said Nesvitski with a wave of the hand.\ +"How did you get here?" said he, turning to Zherkov.\ +\ +"On the same business. But you are damp! Let me wring you out!"\ +\ +"You were saying, Mr. Staff Officer..." continued the colonel in an\ +offended tone.\ +\ +"Colonel," interrupted the officer of the suite, "You must be quick or\ +the enemy will bring up his guns to use grapeshot."\ +\ +The colonel looked silently at the officer of the suite, at the stout\ +staff officer, and at Zherkov, and he frowned.\ +\ +"I will the bridge fire," he said in a solemn tone as if to announce\ +that in spite of all the unpleasantness he had to endure he would still\ +do the right thing.\ +\ +Striking his horse with his long muscular legs as if it were to blame\ +for everything, the colonel moved forward and ordered the second\ +squadron, that in which Rostov was serving under Denisov, to return to\ +the bridge.\ +\ +"There, it's just as I thought," said Rostov to himself. "He wishes to\ +test me!" His heart contracted and the blood rushed to his face. "Let\ +him see whether I am a coward!" he thought.\ +\ +Again on all the bright faces of the squadron the serious expression\ +appeared that they had worn when under fire. Rostov watched his enemy,\ +the colonel, closely--to find in his face confirmation of his own\ +conjecture, but the colonel did not once glance at Rostov, and looked as\ +he always did when at the front, solemn and stern. Then came the word of\ +command.\ +\ +"Look sharp! Look sharp!" several voices repeated around him.\ +\ +Their sabers catching in the bridles and their spurs jingling, the\ +hussars hastily dismounted, not knowing what they were to do. The men\ +were crossing themselves. Rostov no longer looked at the colonel, he had\ +no time. He was afraid of falling behind the hussars, so much afraid\ +that his heart stood still. His hand trembled as he gave his horse into\ +an orderly's charge, and he felt the blood rush to his heart with a\ +thud. Denisov rode past him, leaning back and shouting something. Rostov\ +saw nothing but the hussars running all around him, their spurs catching\ +and their sabers clattering.\ +\ +"Stretchers!" shouted someone behind him.\ +\ +Rostov did not think what this call for stretchers meant; he ran on,\ +trying only to be ahead of the others; but just at the bridge, not\ +looking at the ground, he came on some sticky, trodden mud, stumbled,\ +and fell on his hands. The others outstripped him.\ +\ +"At boss zides, Captain," he heard the voice of the colonel, who, having\ +ridden ahead, had pulled up his horse near the bridge, with a\ +triumphant, cheerful face.\ +\ +Rostov wiping his muddy hands on his breeches looked at his enemy and\ +was about to run on, thinking that the farther he went to the front the\ +better. But Bogdanich, without looking at or recognizing Rostov, shouted\ +to him:\ +\ +"Who's that running on the middle of the bridge? To the right! Come\ +back, Cadet!" he cried angrily; and turning to Denisov, who, showing off\ +his courage, had ridden on to the planks of the bridge:\ +\ +"Why run risks, Captain? You should dismount," he said.\ +\ +"Oh, every bullet has its billet," answered Vaska Denisov, turning in\ +his saddle.\ +\ +Meanwhile Nesvitski, Zherkov, and the officer of the suite were standing\ +together out of range of the shots, watching, now the small group of men\ +with yellow shakos, dark-green jackets braided with cord, and blue\ +riding breeches, who were swarming near the bridge, and then at what was\ +approaching in the distance from the opposite side--the blue uniforms\ +and groups with horses, easily recognizable as artillery.\ +\ +"Will they burn the bridge or not? Who'll get there first? Will they get\ +there and fire the bridge or will the French get within grapeshot range\ +and wipe them out?" These were the questions each man of the troops on\ +the high ground above the bridge involuntarily asked himself with a\ +sinking heart--watching the bridge and the hussars in the bright evening\ +light and the blue tunics advancing from the other side with their\ +bayonets and guns.\ +\ +"Ugh. The hussars will get it hot!" said Nesvitski; "they are within\ +grapeshot range now."\ +\ +"He shouldn't have taken so many men," said the officer of the suite.\ +\ +"True enough," answered Nesvitski; "two smart fellows could have done\ +the job just as well."\ +\ +"Ah, your excellency," put in Zherkov, his eyes fixed on the hussars,\ +but still with that naive air that made it impossible to know whether he\ +was speaking in jest or in earnest. "Ah, your excellency! How you look\ +at things! Send two men? And who then would give us the Vladimir medal\ +and ribbon? But now, even if they do get peppered, the squadron may be\ +recommended for honors and he may get a ribbon. Our Bogdanich knows how\ +things are done."\ +\ +"There now!" said the officer of the suite, "that's grapeshot."\ +\ +He pointed to the French guns, the limbers of which were being detached\ +and hurriedly removed.\ +\ +On the French side, amid the groups with cannon, a cloud of smoke\ +appeared, then a second and a third almost simultaneously, and at the\ +moment when the first report was heard a fourth was seen. Then two\ +reports one after another, and a third.\ +\ +"Oh! Oh!" groaned Nesvitski as if in fierce pain, seizing the officer of\ +the suite by the arm. "Look! A man has fallen! Fallen, fallen!"\ +\ +"Two, I think."\ +\ +"If I were Tsar I would never go to war," said Nesvitski, turning away.\ +\ +The French guns were hastily reloaded. The infantry in their blue\ +uniforms advanced toward the bridge at a run. Smoke appeared again but\ +at irregular intervals, and grapeshot cracked and rattled onto the\ +bridge. But this time Nesvitski could not see what was happening there,\ +as a dense cloud of smoke arose from it. The hussars had succeeded in\ +setting it on fire and the French batteries were now firing at them, no\ +longer to hinder them but because the guns were trained and there was\ +someone to fire at.\ +\ +The French had time to fire three rounds of grapeshot before the hussars\ +got back to their horses. Two were misdirected and the shot went too\ +high, but the last round fell in the midst of a group of hussars and\ +knocked three of them over.\ +\ +Rostov, absorbed by his relations with Bogdanich, had paused on the\ +bridge not knowing what to do. There was no one to hew down (as he had\ +always imagined battles to himself), nor could he help to fire the\ +bridge because he had not brought any burning straw with him like the\ +other soldiers. He stood looking about him, when suddenly he heard a\ +rattle on the bridge as if nuts were being spilt, and the hussar nearest\ +to him fell against the rails with a groan. Rostov ran up to him with\ +the others. Again someone shouted, "Stretchers!" Four men seized the\ +hussar and began lifting him.\ +\ +"Oooh! For Christ's sake let me alone!" cried the wounded man, but still\ +he was lifted and laid on the stretcher.\ +\ +Nicholas Rostov turned away and, as if searching for something, gazed\ +into the distance, at the waters of the Danube, at the sky, and at the\ +sun. How beautiful the sky looked; how blue, how calm, and how deep! How\ +bright and glorious was the setting sun! With what soft glitter the\ +waters of the distant Danube shone. And fairer still were the faraway\ +blue mountains beyond the river, the nunnery, the mysterious gorges, and\ +the pine forests veiled in the mist of their summits... There was peace\ +and happiness... "I should wish for nothing else, nothing, if only I\ +were there," thought Rostov. "In myself alone and in that sunshine there\ +is so much happiness; but here... groans, suffering, fear, and this\ +uncertainty and hurry... There--they are shouting again, and again are\ +all running back somewhere, and I shall run with them, and it, death, is\ +here above me and around... Another instant and I shall never again see\ +the sun, this water, that gorge!..."\ +\ +At that instant the sun began to hide behind the clouds, and other\ +stretchers came into view before Rostov. And the fear of death and of\ +the stretchers, and love of the sun and of life, all merged into one\ +feeling of sickening agitation.\ +\ +"O Lord God! Thou who art in that heaven, save, forgive, and protect\ +me!" Rostov whispered.\ +\ +The hussars ran back to the men who held their horses; their voices\ +sounded louder and calmer, the stretchers disappeared from sight.\ +\ +"Well, fwiend? So you've smelt powdah!" shouted Vaska Denisov just above\ +his ear.\ +\ +"It's all over; but I am a coward--yes, a coward!" thought Rostov, and\ +sighing deeply he took Rook, his horse, which stood resting one foot,\ +from the orderly and began to mount.\ +\ +"Was that grapeshot?" he asked Denisov.\ +\ +"Yes and no mistake!" cried Denisov. "You worked like wegular bwicks and\ +it's nasty work! An attack's pleasant work! Hacking away at the dogs!\ +But this sort of thing is the very devil, with them shooting at you like\ +a target."\ +\ +And Denisov rode up to a group that had stopped near Rostov, composed of\ +the colonel, Nesvitski, Zherkov, and the officer from the suite.\ +\ +"Well, it seems that no one has noticed," thought Rostov. And this was\ +true. No one had taken any notice, for everyone knew the sensation which\ +the cadet under fire for the first time had experienced.\ +\ +"Here's something for you to report," said Zherkov. "See if I don't get\ +promoted to a sublieutenancy."\ +\ +"Inform the prince that I the bridge fired!" said the colonel\ +triumphantly and gaily.\ +\ +"And if he asks about the losses?"\ +\ +"A trifle," said the colonel in his bass voice: "two hussars wounded,\ +and one knocked out," he added, unable to restrain a happy smile, and\ +pronouncing the phrase "knocked out" with ringing distinctness.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER IX\ +\ +Pursued by the French army of a hundred thousand men under the command\ +of Bonaparte, encountering a population that was unfriendly to it,\ +losing confidence in its allies, suffering from shortness of supplies,\ +and compelled to act under conditions of war unlike anything that had\ +been foreseen, the Russian army of thirty-five thousand men commanded by\ +Kutuzov was hurriedly retreating along the Danube, stopping where\ +overtaken by the enemy and fighting rearguard actions only as far as\ +necessary to enable it to retreat without losing its heavy equipment.\ +There had been actions at Lambach, Amstetten, and Melk; but despite the\ +courage and endurance--acknowledged even by the enemy--with which the\ +Russians fought, the only consequence of these actions was a yet more\ +rapid retreat. Austrian troops that had escaped capture at Ulm and had\ +joined Kutuzov at Braunau now separated from the Russian army, and\ +Kutuzov was left with only his own weak and exhausted forces. The\ +defense of Vienna was no longer to be thought of. Instead of an\ +offensive, the plan of which, carefully prepared in accord with the\ +modern science of strategics, had been handed to Kutuzov when he was in\ +Vienna by the Austrian Hofkriegsrath, the sole and almost unattainable\ +aim remaining for him was to effect a junction with the forces that were\ +advancing from Russia, without losing his army as Mack had done at Ulm.\ +\ +On the twenty-eighth of October Kutuzov with his army crossed to the\ +left bank of the Danube and took up a position for the first time with\ +the river between himself and the main body of the French. On the\ +thirtieth he attacked Mortier's division, which was on the left bank,\ +and broke it up. In this action for the first time trophies were taken:\ +banners, cannon, and two enemy generals. For the first time, after a\ +fortnight's retreat, the Russian troops had halted and after a fight had\ +not only held the field but had repulsed the French. Though the troops\ +were ill-clad, exhausted, and had lost a third of their number in\ +killed, wounded, sick, and stragglers; though a number of sick and\ +wounded had been abandoned on the other side of the Danube with a letter\ +in which Kutuzov entrusted them to the humanity of the enemy; and though\ +the big hospitals and the houses in Krems converted into military\ +hospitals could no longer accommodate all the sick and wounded, yet the\ +stand made at Krems and the victory over Mortier raised the spirits of\ +the army considerably. Throughout the whole army and at headquarters\ +most joyful though erroneous rumors were rife of the imaginary approach\ +of columns from Russia, of some victory gained by the Austrians, and of\ +the retreat of the frightened Bonaparte.\ +\ +Prince Andrew during the battle had been in attendance on the Austrian\ +General Schmidt, who was killed in the action. His horse had been\ +wounded under him and his own arm slightly grazed by a bullet. As a mark\ +of the commander-in-chief's special favor he was sent with the news of\ +this victory to the Austrian court, now no longer at Vienna (which was\ +threatened by the French) but at Brunn. Despite his apparently delicate\ +build Prince Andrew could endure physical fatigue far better than many\ +very muscular men, and on the night of the battle, having arrived at\ +Krems excited but not weary, with dispatches from Dokhturov to Kutuzov,\ +he was sent immediately with a special dispatch to Brunn. To be so sent\ +meant not only a reward but an important step toward promotion.\ +\ +The night was dark but starry, the road showed black in the snow that\ +had fallen the previous day--the day of the battle. Reviewing his\ +impressions of the recent battle, picturing pleasantly to himself the\ +impression his news of a victory would create, or recalling the send-off\ +given him by the commander-in-chief and his fellow officers, Prince\ +Andrew was galloping along in a post chaise enjoying the feelings of a\ +man who has at length begun to attain a long-desired happiness. As soon\ +as he closed his eyes his ears seemed filled with the rattle of the\ +wheels and the sensation of victory. Then he began to imagine that the\ +Russians were running away and that he himself was killed, but he\ +quickly roused himself with a feeling of joy, as if learning afresh that\ +this was not so but that on the contrary the French had run away. He\ +again recalled all the details of the victory and his own calm courage\ +during the battle, and feeling reassured he dozed off.... The dark\ +starry night was followed by a bright cheerful morning. The snow was\ +thawing in the sunshine, the horses galloped quickly, and on both sides\ +of the road were forests of different kinds, fields, and villages.\ +\ +At one of the post stations he overtook a convoy of Russian wounded. The\ +Russian officer in charge of the transport lolled back in the front\ +cart, shouting and scolding a soldier with coarse abuse. In each of the\ +long German carts six or more pale, dirty, bandaged men were being\ +jolted over the stony road. Some of them were talking (he heard Russian\ +words), others were eating bread; the more severely wounded looked\ +silently, with the languid interest of sick children, at the envoy\ +hurrying past them.\ +\ +Prince Andrew told his driver to stop, and asked a soldier in what\ +action they had been wounded. "Day before yesterday, on the Danube,"\ +answered the soldier. Prince Andrew took out his purse and gave the\ +soldier three gold pieces.\ +\ +"That's for them all," he said to the officer who came up.\ +\ +"Get well soon, lads!" he continued, turning to the soldiers. "There's\ +plenty to do still."\ +\ +"What news, sir?" asked the officer, evidently anxious to start a\ +conversation.\ +\ +"Good news!... Go on!" he shouted to the driver, and they galloped on.\ +\ +It was already quite dark when Prince Andrew rattled over the paved\ +streets of Brunn and found himself surrounded by high buildings, the\ +lights of shops, houses, and street lamps, fine carriages, and all that\ +atmosphere of a large and active town which is always so attractive to a\ +soldier after camp life. Despite his rapid journey and sleepless night,\ +Prince Andrew when he drove up to the palace felt even more vigorous and\ +alert than he had done the day before. Only his eyes gleamed feverishly\ +and his thoughts followed one another with extraordinary clearness and\ +rapidity. He again vividly recalled the details of the battle, no longer\ +dim, but definite and in the concise form in which he imagined himself\ +stating them to the Emperor Francis. He vividly imagined the casual\ +questions that might be put to him and the answers he would give. He\ +expected to be at once presented to the Emperor. At the chief entrance\ +to the palace, however, an official came running out to meet him, and\ +learning that he was a special messenger led him to another entrance.\ +\ +"To the right from the corridor, Euer Hochgeboren! There you will find\ +the adjutant on duty," said the official. "He will conduct you to the\ +Minister of War."\ +\ +The adjutant on duty, meeting Prince Andrew, asked him to wait, and went\ +in to the Minister of War. Five minutes later he returned and bowing\ +with particular courtesy ushered Prince Andrew before him along a\ +corridor to the cabinet where the Minister of War was at work. The\ +adjutant by his elaborate courtesy appeared to wish to ward off any\ +attempt at familiarity on the part of the Russian messenger.\ +\ +Prince Andrew's joyous feeling was considerably weakened as he\ +approached the door of the minister's room. He felt offended, and\ +without his noticing it the feeling of offense immediately turned into\ +one of disdain which was quite uncalled for. His fertile mind instantly\ +suggested to him a point of view which gave him a right to despise the\ +adjutant and the minister. "Away from the smell of powder, they probably\ +think it easy to gain victories!" he thought. His eyes narrowed\ +disdainfully, he entered the room of the Minister of War with peculiarly\ +deliberate steps. This feeling of disdain was heightened when he saw the\ +minister seated at a large table reading some papers and making pencil\ +notes on them, and for the first two or three minutes taking no notice\ +of his arrival. A wax candle stood at each side of the minister's bent\ +bald head with its gray temples. He went on reading to the end, without\ +raising his eyes at the opening of the door and the sound of footsteps.\ +\ +"Take this and deliver it," said he to his adjutant, handing him the\ +papers and still taking no notice of the special messenger.\ +\ +Prince Andrew felt that either the actions of Kutuzov's army interested\ +the Minister of War less than any of the other matters he was concerned\ +with, or he wanted to give the Russian special messenger that\ +impression. "But that is a matter of perfect indifference to me," he\ +thought. The minister drew the remaining papers together, arranged them\ +evenly, and then raised his head. He had an intellectual and distinctive\ +head, but the instant he turned to Prince Andrew the firm, intelligent\ +expression on his face changed in a way evidently deliberate and\ +habitual to him. His face took on the stupid artificial smile (which\ +does not even attempt to hide its artificiality) of a man who is\ +continually receiving many petitioners one after another.\ +\ +"From General Field Marshal Kutuzov?" he asked. "I hope it is good news?\ +There has been an encounter with Mortier? A victory? It was high time!"\ +\ +He took the dispatch which was addressed to him and began to read it\ +with a mournful expression.\ +\ +"Oh, my God! My God! Schmidt!" he exclaimed in German. "What a calamity!\ +What a calamity!"\ +\ +Having glanced through the dispatch he laid it on the table and looked\ +at Prince Andrew, evidently considering something.\ +\ +"Ah what a calamity! You say the affair was decisive? But Mortier is not\ +captured." Again he pondered. "I am very glad you have brought good\ +news, though Schmidt's death is a heavy price to pay for the victory.\ +His Majesty will no doubt wish to see you, but not today. I thank you!\ +You must have a rest. Be at the levee tomorrow after the parade.\ +However, I will let you know."\ +\ +The stupid smile, which had left his face while he was speaking,\ +reappeared.\ +\ +"Au revoir! Thank you very much. His Majesty will probably desire to see\ +you," he added, bowing his head.\ +\ +When Prince Andrew left the palace he felt that all the interest and\ +happiness the victory had afforded him had been now left in the\ +indifferent hands of the Minister of War and the polite adjutant. The\ +whole tenor of his thoughts instantaneously changed; the battle seemed\ +the memory of a remote event long past.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER X\ +\ +Prince Andrew stayed at Brunn with Bilibin, a Russian acquaintance of\ +his in the diplomatic service.\ +\ +"Ah, my dear prince! I could not have a more welcome visitor," said\ +Bilibin as he came out to meet Prince Andrew. "Franz, put the prince's\ +things in my bedroom," said he to the servant who was ushering Bolkonski\ +in. "So you're a messenger of victory, eh? Splendid! And I am sitting\ +here ill, as you see."\ +\ +After washing and dressing, Prince Andrew came into the diplomat's\ +luxurious study and sat down to the dinner prepared for him. Bilibin\ +settled down comfortably beside the fire.\ +\ +After his journey and the campaign during which he had been deprived of\ +all the comforts of cleanliness and all the refinements of life, Prince\ +Andrew felt a pleasant sense of repose among luxurious surroundings such\ +as he had been accustomed to from childhood. Besides it was pleasant,\ +after his reception by the Austrians, to speak if not in Russian (for\ +they were speaking French) at least with a Russian who would, he\ +supposed, share the general Russian antipathy to the Austrians which was\ +then particularly strong.\ +\ +Bilibin was a man of thirty-five, a bachelor, and of the same circle as\ +Prince Andrew. They had known each other previously in Petersburg, but\ +had become more intimate when Prince Andrew was in Vienna with Kutuzov.\ +Just as Prince Andrew was a young man who gave promise of rising high in\ +the military profession, so to an even greater extent Bilibin gave\ +promise of rising in his diplomatic career. He still a young man but no\ +longer a young diplomat, as he had entered the service at the age of\ +sixteen, had been in Paris and Copenhagen, and now held a rather\ +important post in Vienna. Both the foreign minister and our ambassador\ +in Vienna knew him and valued him. He was not one of those many\ +diplomats who are esteemed because they have certain negative qualities,\ +avoid doing certain things, and speak French. He was one of those, who,\ +liking work, knew how to do it, and despite his indolence would\ +sometimes spend a whole night at his writing table. He worked well\ +whatever the import of his work. It was not the question "What for?" but\ +the question "How?" that interested him. What the diplomatic matter\ +might be he did not care, but it gave him great pleasure to prepare a\ +circular, memorandum, or report, skillfully, pointedly, and elegantly.\ +Bilibin's services were valued not only for what he wrote, but also for\ +his skill in dealing and conversing with those in the highest spheres.\ +\ +Bilibin liked conversation as he liked work, only when it could be made\ +elegantly witty. In society he always awaited an opportunity to say\ +something striking and took part in a conversation only when that was\ +possible. His conversation was always sprinkled with wittily original,\ +finished phrases of general interest. These sayings were prepared in the\ +inner laboratory of his mind in a portable form as if intentionally, so\ +that insignificant society people might carry them from drawing room to\ +drawing room. And, in fact, Bilibin's witticisms were hawked about in\ +the Viennese drawing rooms and often had an influence on matters\ +considered important.\ +\ +His thin, worn, sallow face was covered with deep wrinkles, which always\ +looked as clean and well washed as the tips of one's fingers after a\ +Russian bath. The movement of these wrinkles formed the principal play\ +of expression on his face. Now his forehead would pucker into deep folds\ +and his eyebrows were lifted, then his eyebrows would descend and deep\ +wrinkles would crease his cheeks. His small, deep-set eyes always\ +twinkled and looked out straight.\ +\ +"Well, now tell me about your exploits," said he.\ +\ +Bolkonski, very modestly without once mentioning himself, described the\ +engagement and his reception by the Minister of War.\ +\ +"They received me and my news as one receives a dog in a game of\ +skittles," said he in conclusion.\ +\ +Bilibin smiled and the wrinkles on his face disappeared.\ +\ +"Cependant, mon cher," he remarked, examining his nails from a distance\ +and puckering the skin above his left eye, "malgre la haute estime que\ +je professe pour the Orthodox Russian army, j'avoue que votre victoire\ +n'est pas des plus victorieuses." *\ +\ +\ +* "But my dear fellow, with all my respect for the Orthodox Russian\ +army, I must say that your victory was not particularly victorious."\ +\ +He went on talking in this way in French, uttering only those words in\ +Russian on which he wished to put a contemptuous emphasis.\ +\ +"Come now! You with all your forces fall on the unfortunate Mortier and\ +his one division, and even then Mortier slips through your fingers!\ +Where's the victory?"\ +\ +"But seriously," said Prince Andrew, "we can at any rate say without\ +boasting that it was a little better than at Ulm..."\ +\ +"Why didn't you capture one, just one, marshal for us?"\ +\ +"Because not everything happens as one expects or with the smoothness of\ +a parade. We had expected, as I told you, to get at their rear by seven\ +in the morning but had not reached it by five in the afternoon."\ +\ +"And why didn't you do it at seven in the morning? You ought to have\ +been there at seven in the morning," returned Bilibin with a smile. "You\ +ought to have been there at seven in the morning."\ +\ +"Why did you not succeed in impressing on Bonaparte by diplomatic\ +methods that he had better leave Genoa alone?" retorted Prince Andrew in\ +the same tone.\ +\ +"I know," interrupted Bilibin, "you're thinking it's very easy to take\ +marshals, sitting on a sofa by the fire! That is true, but still why\ +didn't you capture him? So don't be surprised if not only the Minister\ +of War but also his Most August Majesty the Emperor and King Francis is\ +not much delighted by your victory. Even I, a poor secretary of the\ +Russian Embassy, do not feel any need in token of my joy to give my\ +Franz a thaler, or let him go with his Liebchen to the Prater... True,\ +we have no Prater here..."\ +\ +He looked straight at Prince Andrew and suddenly unwrinkled his\ +forehead.\ +\ +"It is now my turn to ask you 'why?' mon cher," said Bolkonski. "I\ +confess I do not understand: perhaps there are diplomatic subtleties\ +here beyond my feeble intelligence, but I can't make it out. Mack loses\ +a whole army, the Archduke Ferdinand and the Archduke Karl give no signs\ +of life and make blunder after blunder. Kutuzov alone at last gains a\ +real victory, destroying the spell of the invincibility of the French,\ +and the Minister of War does not even care to hear the details."\ +\ +"That's just it, my dear fellow. You see it's hurrah for the Tsar, for\ +Russia, for the Orthodox Greek faith! All that is beautiful, but what do\ +we, I mean the Austrian court, care for your victories? Bring us nice\ +news of a victory by the Archduke Karl or Ferdinand (one archduke's as\ +good as another, as you know) and even if it is only over a fire brigade\ +of Bonaparte's, that will be another story and we'll fire off some\ +cannon! But this sort of thing seems done on purpose to vex us. The\ +Archduke Karl does nothing, the Archduke Ferdinand disgraces himself.\ +You abandon Vienna, give up its defense--as much as to say: 'Heaven is\ +with us, but heaven help you and your capital!' The one general whom we\ +all loved, Schmidt, you expose to a bullet, and then you congratulate us\ +on the victory! Admit that more irritating news than yours could not\ +have been conceived. It's as if it had been done on purpose, on purpose.\ +Besides, suppose you did gain a brilliant victory, if even the Archduke\ +Karl gained a victory, what effect would that have on the general course\ +of events? It's too late now when Vienna is occupied by the French\ +army!"\ +\ +"What? Occupied? Vienna occupied?"\ +\ +"Not only occupied, but Bonaparte is at Schonbrunn, and the count, our\ +dear Count Vrbna, goes to him for orders."\ +\ +After the fatigues and impressions of the journey, his reception, and\ +especially after having dined, Bolkonski felt that he could not take in\ +the full significance of the words he heard.\ +\ +"Count Lichtenfels was here this morning," Bilibin continued, "and\ +showed me a letter in which the parade of the French in Vienna was fully\ +described: Prince Murat et tout le tremblement... You see that your\ +victory is not a matter for great rejoicing and that you can't be\ +received as a savior."\ +\ +"Really I don't care about that, I don't care at all," said Prince\ +Andrew, beginning to understand that his news of the battle before Krems\ +was really of small importance in view of such events as the fall of\ +Austria's capital. "How is it Vienna was taken? What of the bridge and\ +its celebrated bridgehead and Prince Auersperg? We heard reports that\ +Prince Auersperg was defending Vienna?" he said.\ +\ +"Prince Auersperg is on this, on our side of the river, and is defending\ +us--doing it very badly, I think, but still he is defending us. But\ +Vienna is on the other side. No, the bridge has not yet been taken and I\ +hope it will not be, for it is mined and orders have been given to blow\ +it up. Otherwise we should long ago have been in the mountains of\ +Bohemia, and you and your army would have spent a bad quarter of an hour\ +between two fires."\ +\ +"But still this does not mean that the campaign is over," said Prince\ +Andrew.\ +\ +"Well, I think it is. The bigwigs here think so too, but they daren't\ +say so. It will be as I said at the beginning of the campaign, it won't\ +be your skirmishing at Durrenstein, or gunpowder at all, that will\ +decide the matter, but those who devised it," said Bilibin quoting one\ +of his own mots, releasing the wrinkles on his forehead, and pausing.\ +"The only question is what will come of the meeting between the Emperor\ +Alexander and the King of Prussia in Berlin? If Prussia joins the\ +Allies, Austria's hand will be forced and there will be war. If not it\ +is merely a question of settling where the preliminaries of the new\ +Campo Formio are to be drawn up."\ +\ +"What an extraordinary genius!" Prince Andrew suddenly exclaimed,\ +clenching his small hand and striking the table with it, "and what luck\ +the man has!"\ +\ +"Buonaparte?" said Bilibin inquiringly, puckering up his forehead to\ +indicate that he was about to say something witty. "Buonaparte?" he\ +repeated, accentuating the u: "I think, however, now that he lays down\ +laws for Austria at Schonbrunn, il faut lui faire grace de l'u! * I\ +shall certainly adopt an innovation and call him simply Bonaparte!"\ +\ +\ +* "We must let him off the u!"\ +\ +"But joking apart," said Prince Andrew, "do you really think the\ +campaign is over?"\ +\ +"This is what I think. Austria has been made a fool of, and she is not\ +used to it. She will retaliate. And she has been fooled in the first\ +place because her provinces have been pillaged--they say the Holy\ +Russian army loots terribly--her army is destroyed, her capital taken,\ +and all this for the beaux yeux * of His Sardinian Majesty. And\ +therefore--this is between ourselves--I instinctively feel that we are\ +being deceived, my instinct tells me of negotiations with France and\ +projects for peace, a secret peace concluded separately."\ +\ +\ +* Fine eyes.\ +\ +"Impossible!" cried Prince Andrew. "That would be too base."\ +\ +"If we live we shall see," replied Bilibin, his face again becoming\ +smooth as a sign that the conversation was at an end.\ +\ +When Prince Andrew reached the room prepared for him and lay down in a\ +clean shirt on the feather bed with its warmed and fragrant pillows, he\ +felt that the battle of which he had brought tidings was far, far away\ +from him. The alliance with Prussia, Austria's treachery, Bonaparte's\ +new triumph, tomorrow's levee and parade, and the audience with the\ +Emperor Francis occupied his thoughts.\ +\ +He closed his eyes, and immediately a sound of cannonading, of musketry\ +and the rattling of carriage wheels seemed to fill his ears, and now\ +again drawn out in a thin line the musketeers were descending the hill,\ +the French were firing, and he felt his heart palpitating as he rode\ +forward beside Schmidt with the bullets merrily whistling all around,\ +and he experienced tenfold the joy of living, as he had not done since\ +childhood.\ +\ +He woke up...\ +\ +"Yes, that all happened!" he said, and, smiling happily to himself like\ +a child, he fell into a deep, youthful slumber.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XI\ +\ +Next day he woke late. Recalling his recent impressions, the first\ +thought that came into his mind was that today he had to be presented to\ +the Emperor Francis; he remembered the Minister of War, the polite\ +Austrian adjutant, Bilibin, and last night's conversation. Having\ +dressed for his attendance at court in full parade uniform, which he had\ +not worn for a long time, he went into Bilibin's study fresh, animated,\ +and handsome, with his hand bandaged. In the study were four gentlemen\ +of the diplomatic corps. With Prince Hippolyte Kuragin, who was a\ +secretary to the embassy, Bolkonski was already acquainted. Bilibin\ +introduced him to the others.\ +\ +The gentlemen assembled at Bilibin's were young, wealthy, gay society\ +men, who here, as in Vienna, formed a special set which Bilibin, their\ +leader, called les notres. * This set, consisting almost exclusively of\ +diplomats, evidently had its own interests which had nothing to do with\ +war or politics but related to high society, to certain women, and to\ +the official side of the service. These gentlemen received Prince Andrew\ +as one of themselves, an honor they did not extend to many. From\ +politeness and to start conversation, they asked him a few questions\ +about the army and the battle, and then the talk went off into merry\ +jests and gossip.\ +\ +\ +* Ours.\ +\ +"But the best of it was," said one, telling of the misfortune of a\ +fellow diplomat, "that the Chancellor told him flatly that his\ +appointment to London was a promotion and that he was so to regard it.\ +Can you fancy the figure he cut?..."\ +\ +"But the worst of it, gentlemen--I am giving Kuragin away to you--is\ +that that man suffers, and this Don Juan, wicked fellow, is taking\ +advantage of it!"\ +\ +Prince Hippolyte was lolling in a lounge chair with his legs over its\ +arm. He began to laugh.\ +\ +"Tell me about that!" he said.\ +\ +"Oh, you Don Juan! You serpent!" cried several voices.\ +\ +"You, Bolkonski, don't know," said Bilibin turning to Prince Andrew,\ +"that all the atrocities of the French army (I nearly said of the\ +Russian army) are nothing compared to what this man has been doing among\ +the women!"\ +\ +"La femme est la compagne de l'homme," * announced Prince Hippolyte, and\ +began looking through a lorgnette at his elevated legs.\ +\ +\ +* "Woman is man's companion."\ +\ +Bilibin and the rest of "ours" burst out laughing in Hippolyte's face,\ +and Prince Andrew saw that Hippolyte, of whom--he had to admit--he had\ +almost been jealous on his wife's account, was the butt of this set.\ +\ +"Oh, I must give you a treat," Bilibin whispered to Bolkonski. "Kuragin\ +is exquisite when he discusses politics--you should see his gravity!"\ +\ +He sat down beside Hippolyte and wrinkling his forehead began talking to\ +him about politics. Prince Andrew and the others gathered round these\ +two.\ +\ +"The Berlin cabinet cannot express a feeling of alliance," began\ +Hippolyte gazing round with importance at the others, "without\ +expressing... as in its last note... you understand... Besides, unless\ +His Majesty the Emperor derogates from the principle of our alliance...\ +\ +"Wait, I have not finished..." he said to Prince Andrew, seizing him by\ +the arm, "I believe that intervention will be stronger than\ +nonintervention. And..." he paused. "Finally one cannot impute the\ +nonreceipt of our dispatch of November 18. That is how it will end." And\ +he released Bolkonski's arm to indicate that he had now quite finished.\ +\ +"Demosthenes, I know thee by the pebble thou secretest in thy golden\ +mouth!" said Bilibin, and the mop of hair on his head moved with\ +satisfaction.\ +\ +Everybody laughed, and Hippolyte louder than anyone. He was evidently\ +distressed, and breathed painfully, but could not restrain the wild\ +laughter that convulsed his usually impassive features.\ +\ +"Well now, gentlemen," said Bilibin, "Bolkonski is my guest in this\ +house and in Brunn itself. I want to entertain him as far as I can, with\ +all the pleasures of life here. If we were in Vienna it would be easy,\ +but here, in this wretched Moravian hole, it is more difficult, and I\ +beg you all to help me. Brunn's attractions must be shown him. You can\ +undertake the theater, I society, and you, Hippolyte, of course the\ +women."\ +\ +"We must let him see Amelie, she's exquisite!" said one of "ours,"\ +kissing his finger tips.\ +\ +"In general we must turn this bloodthirsty soldier to more humane\ +interests," said Bilibin.\ +\ +"I shall scarcely be able to avail myself of your hospitality,\ +gentlemen, it is already time for me to go," replied Prince Andrew\ +looking at his watch.\ +\ +"Where to?"\ +\ +"To the Emperor."\ +\ +"Oh! Oh! Oh! Well, au revoir, Bolkonski! Au revoir, Prince! Come back\ +early to dinner," cried several voices. "We'll take you in hand."\ +\ +"When speaking to the Emperor, try as far as you can to praise the way\ +that provisions are supplied and the routes indicated," said Bilibin,\ +accompanying him to the hall.\ +\ +"I should like to speak well of them, but as far as I know the facts, I\ +can't," replied Bolkonski, smiling.\ +\ +"Well, talk as much as you can, anyway. He has a passion for giving\ +audiences, but he does not like talking himself and can't do it, as you\ +will see."\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XII\ +\ +At the levee Prince Andrew stood among the Austrian officers as he had\ +been told to, and the Emperor Francis merely looked fixedly into his\ +face and just nodded to him with his long head. But after it was over,\ +the adjutant he had seen the previous day ceremoniously informed\ +Bolkonski that the Emperor desired to give him an audience. The Emperor\ +Francis received him standing in the middle of the room. Before the\ +conversation began Prince Andrew was struck by the fact that the Emperor\ +seemed confused and blushed as if not knowing what to say.\ +\ +"Tell me, when did the battle begin?" he asked hurriedly.\ +\ +Prince Andrew replied. Then followed other questions just as simple:\ +"Was Kutuzov well? When had he left Krems?" and so on. The Emperor spoke\ +as if his sole aim were to put a given number of questions--the answers\ +to these questions, as was only too evident, did not interest him.\ +\ +"At what o'clock did the battle begin?" asked the Emperor.\ +\ +"I cannot inform Your Majesty at what o'clock the battle began at the\ +front, but at Durrenstein, where I was, our attack began after five in\ +the afternoon," replied Bolkonski growing more animated and expecting\ +that he would have a chance to give a reliable account, which he had\ +ready in his mind, of all he knew and had seen. But the Emperor smiled\ +and interrupted him.\ +\ +"How many miles?"\ +\ +"From where to where, Your Majesty?"\ +\ +"From Durrenstein to Krems."\ +\ +"Three and a half miles, Your Majesty."\ +\ +"The French have abandoned the left bank?"\ +\ +"According to the scouts the last of them crossed on rafts during the\ +night."\ +\ +"Is there sufficient forage in Krems?"\ +\ +"Forage has not been supplied to the extent..."\ +\ +The Emperor interrupted him.\ +\ +"At what o'clock was General Schmidt killed?"\ +\ +"At seven o'clock, I believe."\ +\ +"At seven o'clock? It's very sad, very sad!"\ +\ +The Emperor thanked Prince Andrew and bowed. Prince Andrew withdrew and\ +was immediately surrounded by courtiers on all sides. Everywhere he saw\ +friendly looks and heard friendly words. Yesterday's adjutant reproached\ +him for not having stayed at the palace, and offered him his own house.\ +The Minister of War came up and congratulated him on the Maria Theresa\ +Order of the third grade, which the Emperor was conferring on him. The\ +Empress' chamberlain invited him to see Her Majesty. The archduchess\ +also wished to see him. He did not know whom to answer, and for a few\ +seconds collected his thoughts. Then the Russian ambassador took him by\ +the shoulder, led him to the window, and began to talk to him.\ +\ +Contrary to Bilibin's forecast the news he had brought was joyfully\ +received. A thanksgiving service was arranged, Kutuzov was awarded the\ +Grand Cross of Maria Theresa, and the whole army received rewards.\ +Bolkonski was invited everywhere, and had to spend the whole morning\ +calling on the principal Austrian dignitaries. Between four and five in\ +the afternoon, having made all his calls, he was returning to Bilibin's\ +house thinking out a letter to his father about the battle and his visit\ +to Brunn. At the door he found a vehicle half full of luggage. Franz,\ +Bilibin's man, was dragging a portmanteau with some difficulty out of\ +the front door.\ +\ +Before returning to Bilibin's Prince Andrew had gone to a bookshop to\ +provide himself with some books for the campaign, and had spent some\ +time in the shop.\ +\ +"What is it?" he asked.\ +\ +"Oh, your excellency!" said Franz, with difficulty rolling the\ +portmanteau into the vehicle, "we are to move on still farther. The\ +scoundrel is again at our heels!"\ +\ +"Eh? What?" asked Prince Andrew.\ +\ +Bilibin came out to meet him. His usually calm face showed excitement.\ +\ +"There now! Confess that this is delightful," said he. "This affair of\ +the Thabor Bridge, at Vienna.... They have crossed without striking a\ +blow!"\ +\ +Prince Andrew could not understand.\ +\ +"But where do you come from not to know what every coachman in the town\ +knows?"\ +\ +"I come from the archduchess'. I heard nothing there."\ +\ +"And you didn't see that everybody is packing up?"\ +\ +"I did not... What is it all about?" inquired Prince Andrew impatiently.\ +\ +"What's it all about? Why, the French have crossed the bridge that\ +Auersperg was defending, and the bridge was not blown up: so Murat is\ +now rushing along the road to Brunn and will be here in a day or two."\ +\ +"What? Here? But why did they not blow up the bridge, if it was mined?"\ +\ +"That is what I ask you. No one, not even Bonaparte, knows why."\ +\ +Bolkonski shrugged his shoulders.\ +\ +"But if the bridge is crossed it means that the army too is lost? It\ +will be cut off," said he.\ +\ +"That's just it," answered Bilibin. "Listen! The French entered Vienna\ +as I told you. Very well. Next day, which was yesterday, those\ +gentlemen, messieurs les marechaux, * Murat, Lannes, and Belliard, mount\ +and ride to the bridge. (Observe that all three are Gascons.)\ +'Gentlemen,' says one of them, 'you know the Thabor Bridge is mined and\ +doubly mined and that there are menacing fortifications at its head and\ +an army of fifteen thousand men has been ordered to blow up the bridge\ +and not let us cross? But it will please our sovereign the Emperor\ +Napoleon if we take this bridge, so let us three go and take it!' 'Yes,\ +let's!' say the others. And off they go and take the bridge, cross it,\ +and now with their whole army are on this side of the Danube, marching\ +on us, you, and your lines of communication."\ +\ +\ +* The marshalls.\ +\ +"Stop jesting," said Prince Andrew sadly and seriously. This news\ +grieved him and yet he was pleased.\ +\ +As soon as he learned that the Russian army was in such a hopeless\ +situation it occurred to him that it was he who was destined to lead it\ +out of this position; that here was the Toulon that would lift him from\ +the ranks of obscure officers and offer him the first step to fame!\ +Listening to Bilibin he was already imagining how on reaching the army\ +he would give an opinion at the war council which would be the only one\ +that could save the army, and how he alone would be entrusted with the\ +executing of the plan.\ +\ +"Stop this jesting," he said.\ +\ +"I am not jesting," Bilibin went on. "Nothing is truer or sadder. These\ +gentlemen ride onto the bridge alone and wave white handkerchiefs; they\ +assure the officer on duty that they, the marshals, are on their way to\ +negotiate with Prince Auersperg. He lets them enter the t\'eate-de-pont. *\ +They spin him a thousand gasconades, saying that the war is over, that\ +the Emperor Francis is arranging a meeting with Bonaparte, that they\ +desire to see Prince Auersperg, and so on. The officer sends for\ +Auersperg; these gentlemen embrace the officers, crack jokes, sit on the\ +cannon, and meanwhile a French battalion gets to the bridge unobserved,\ +flings the bags of incendiary material into the water, and approaches\ +the t\'eate-de-pont. At length appears the lieutenant general, our dear\ +Prince Auersperg von Mautern himself. 'Dearest foe! Flower of the\ +Austrian army, hero of the Turkish wars Hostilities are ended, we can\ +shake one another's hand.... The Emperor Napoleon burns with impatience\ +to make Prince Auersperg's acquaintance.' In a word, those gentlemen,\ +Gascons indeed, so bewildered him with fine words, and he is so\ +flattered by his rapidly established intimacy with the French marshals,\ +and so dazzled by the sight of Murat's mantle and ostrich plumes, qu'il\ +n'y voit que du feu, et oublie celui qu'il devait faire faire sur\ +l'ennemi!" *(2) In spite of the animation of his speech, Bilibin did not\ +forget to pause after this mot to give time for its due appreciation.\ +"The French battalion rushes to the bridgehead, spikes the guns, and the\ +bridge is taken! But what is best of all," he went on, his excitement\ +subsiding under the delightful interest of his own story, "is that the\ +sergeant in charge of the cannon which was to give the signal to fire\ +the mines and blow up the bridge, this sergeant, seeing that the French\ +troops were running onto the bridge, was about to fire, but Lannes\ +stayed his hand. The sergeant, who was evidently wiser than his general,\ +goes up to Auersperg and says: 'Prince, you are being deceived, here are\ +the French!' Murat, seeing that all is lost if the sergeant is allowed\ +to speak, turns to Auersperg with feigned astonishment (he is a true\ +Gascon) and says: 'I don't recognize the world-famous Austrian\ +discipline, if you allow a subordinate to address you like that!' It was\ +a stroke of genius. Prince Auersperg feels his dignity at stake and\ +orders the sergeant to be arrested. Come, you must own that this affair\ +of the Thabor Bridge is delightful! It is not exactly stupidity, nor\ +rascality...."\ +\ +\ +* Bridgehead.\ +\ +* (2) That their fire gets into his eyes and he forgets that he ought to\ +be firing at the enemy.\ +\ +"It may be treachery," said Prince Andrew, vividly imagining the gray\ +overcoats, wounds, the smoke of gunpowder, the sounds of firing, and the\ +glory that awaited him.\ +\ +"Not that either. That puts the court in too bad a light," replied\ +Bilibin. "It's not treachery nor rascality nor stupidity: it is just as\ +at Ulm... it is..."--he seemed to be trying to find the right\ +expression. "C'est... c'est du Mack. Nous sommes mackes (It is... it is\ +a bit of Mack. We are Macked)," he concluded, feeling that he had\ +produced a good epigram, a fresh one that would be repeated. His\ +hitherto puckered brow became smooth as a sign of pleasure, and with a\ +slight smile he began to examine his nails.\ +\ +"Where are you off to?" he said suddenly to Prince Andrew who had risen\ +and was going toward his room.\ +\ +"I am going away."\ +\ +"Where to?"\ +\ +"To the army."\ +\ +"But you meant to stay another two days?"\ +\ +"But now I am off at once."\ +\ +And Prince Andrew after giving directions about his departure went to\ +his room.\ +\ +"Do you know, mon cher," said Bilibin following him, "I have been\ +thinking about you. Why are you going?"\ +\ +And in proof of the conclusiveness of his opinion all the wrinkles\ +vanished from his face.\ +\ +Prince Andrew looked inquiringly at him and gave no reply.\ +\ +"Why are you going? I know you think it your duty to gallop back to the\ +army now that it is in danger. I understand that. Mon cher, it is\ +heroism!"\ +\ +"Not at all," said Prince Andrew.\ +\ +"But as you are a philosopher, be a consistent one, look at the other\ +side of the question and you will see that your duty, on the contrary,\ +is to take care of yourself. Leave it to those who are no longer fit for\ +anything else.... You have not been ordered to return and have not been\ +dismissed from here; therefore, you can stay and go with us wherever our\ +ill luck takes us. They say we are going to Olmutz, and Olmutz is a very\ +decent town. You and I will travel comfortably in my caleche."\ +\ +"Do stop joking, Bilibin," cried Bolkonski.\ +\ +"I am speaking sincerely as a friend! Consider! Where and why are you\ +going, when you might remain here? You are faced by one of two things,"\ +and the skin over his left temple puckered, "either you will not reach\ +your regiment before peace is concluded, or you will share defeat and\ +disgrace with Kutuzov's whole army."\ +\ +And Bilibin unwrinkled his temple, feeling that the dilemma was\ +insoluble.\ +\ +"I cannot argue about it," replied Prince Andrew coldly, but he thought:\ +"I am going to save the army."\ +\ +"My dear fellow, you are a hero!" said Bilibin.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XIII\ +\ +That same night, having taken leave of the Minister of War, Bolkonski\ +set off to rejoin the army, not knowing where he would find it and\ +fearing to be captured by the French on the way to Krems.\ +\ +In Brunn everybody attached to the court was packing up, and the heavy\ +baggage was already being dispatched to Olmutz. Near Hetzelsdorf Prince\ +Andrew struck the high road along which the Russian army was moving with\ +great haste and in the greatest disorder. The road was so obstructed\ +with carts that it was impossible to get by in a carriage. Prince Andrew\ +took a horse and a Cossack from a Cossack commander, and hungry and\ +weary, making his way past the baggage wagons, rode in search of the\ +commander-in-chief and of his own luggage. Very sinister reports of the\ +position of the army reached him as he went along, and the appearance of\ +the troops in their disorderly flight confirmed these rumors.\ +\ +"Cette armee russe que l'or de l'Angleterre a transportee des extremites\ +de l'univers, nous allons lui faire eprouver le meme sort--(le sort de\ +l'armee d'Ulm)." * He remembered these words in Bonaparte's address to\ +his army at the beginning of the campaign, and they awoke in him\ +astonishment at the genius of his hero, a feeling of wounded pride, and\ +a hope of glory. "And should there be nothing left but to die?" he\ +thought. "Well, if need be, I shall do it no worse than others."\ +\ +\ +* "That Russian army which has been brought from the ends of the earth\ +by English gold, we shall cause to share the same fate--(the fate of the\ +army at Ulm)."\ +\ +He looked with disdain at the endless confused mass of detachments,\ +carts, guns, artillery, and again baggage wagons and vehicles of all\ +kinds overtaking one another and blocking the muddy road, three and\ +sometimes four abreast. From all sides, behind and before, as far as ear\ +could reach, there were the rattle of wheels, the creaking of carts and\ +gun carriages, the tramp of horses, the crack of whips, shouts, the\ +urging of horses, and the swearing of soldiers, orderlies, and officers.\ +All along the sides of the road fallen horses were to be seen, some\ +flayed, some not, and broken-down carts beside which solitary soldiers\ +sat waiting for something, and again soldiers straggling from their\ +companies, crowds of whom set off to the neighboring villages, or\ +returned from them dragging sheep, fowls, hay, and bulging sacks. At\ +each ascent or descent of the road the crowds were yet denser and the\ +din of shouting more incessant. Soldiers floundering knee-deep in mud\ +pushed the guns and wagons themselves. Whips cracked, hoofs slipped,\ +traces broke, and lungs were strained with shouting. The officers\ +directing the march rode backward and forward between the carts. Their\ +voices were but feebly heard amid the uproar and one saw by their faces\ +that they despaired of the possibility of checking this disorder.\ +\ +"Here is our dear Orthodox Russian army," thought Bolkonski, recalling\ +Bilibin's words.\ +\ +Wishing to find out where the commander-in-chief was, he rode up to a\ +convoy. Directly opposite to him came a strange one-horse vehicle,\ +evidently rigged up by soldiers out of any available materials and\ +looking like something between a cart, a cabriolet, and a caleche. A\ +soldier was driving, and a woman enveloped in shawls sat behind the\ +apron under the leather hood of the vehicle. Prince Andrew rode up and\ +was just putting his question to a soldier when his attention was\ +diverted by the desperate shrieks of the woman in the vehicle. An\ +officer in charge of transport was beating the soldier who was driving\ +the woman's vehicle for trying to get ahead of others, and the strokes\ +of his whip fell on the apron of the equipage. The woman screamed\ +piercingly. Seeing Prince Andrew she leaned out from behind the apron\ +and, waving her thin arms from under the woolen shawl, cried:\ +\ +"Mr. Aide-de-camp! Mr. Aide-de-camp!... For heaven's sake... Protect me!\ +What will become of us? I am the wife of the doctor of the Seventh\ +Chasseurs.... They won't let us pass, we are left behind and have lost\ +our people..."\ +\ +"I'll flatten you into a pancake!" shouted the angry officer to the\ +soldier. "Turn back with your slut!"\ +\ +"Mr. Aide-de-camp! Help me!... What does it all mean?" screamed the\ +doctor's wife.\ +\ +"Kindly let this cart pass. Don't you see it's a woman?" said Prince\ +Andrew riding up to the officer.\ +\ +The officer glanced at him, and without replying turned again to the\ +soldier. "I'll teach you to push on!... Back!"\ +\ +"Let them pass, I tell you!" repeated Prince Andrew, compressing his\ +lips.\ +\ +"And who are you?" cried the officer, turning on him with tipsy rage,\ +"who are you? Are you in command here? Eh? I am commander here, not you!\ +Go back or I'll flatten you into a pancake," repeated he. This\ +expression evidently pleased him.\ +\ +"That was a nice snub for the little aide-de-camp," came a voice from\ +behind.\ +\ +Prince Andrew saw that the officer was in that state of senseless, tipsy\ +rage when a man does not know what he is saying. He saw that his\ +championship of the doctor's wife in her queer trap might expose him to\ +what he dreaded more than anything in the world--to ridicule; but his\ +instinct urged him on. Before the officer finished his sentence Prince\ +Andrew, his face distorted with fury, rode up to him and raised his\ +riding whip.\ +\ +"Kind...ly let--them--pass!"\ +\ +The officer flourished his arm and hastily rode away.\ +\ +"It's all the fault of these fellows on the staff that there's this\ +disorder," he muttered. "Do as you like."\ +\ +Prince Andrew without lifting his eyes rode hastily away from the\ +doctor's wife, who was calling him her deliverer, and recalling with a\ +sense of disgust the minutest details of this humiliating scene he\ +galloped on to the village where he was told that the commander-in-chief\ +was.\ +\ +On reaching the village he dismounted and went to the nearest house,\ +intending to rest if but for a moment, eat something, and try to sort\ +out the stinging and tormenting thoughts that confused his mind. "This\ +is a mob of scoundrels and not an army," he was thinking as he went up\ +to the window of the first house, when a familiar voice called him by\ +name.\ +\ +He turned round. Nesvitski's handsome face looked out of the little\ +window. Nesvitski, moving his moist lips as he chewed something, and\ +flourishing his arm, called him to enter.\ +\ +"Bolkonski! Bolkonski!... Don't you hear? Eh? Come quick..." he shouted.\ +\ +Entering the house, Prince Andrew saw Nesvitski and another adjutant\ +having something to eat. They hastily turned round to him asking if he\ +had any news. On their familiar faces he read agitation and alarm. This\ +was particularly noticeable on Nesvitski's usually laughing countenance.\ +\ +"Where is the commander-in-chief?" asked Bolkonski.\ +\ +"Here, in that house," answered the adjutant.\ +\ +"Well, is it true that it's peace and capitulation?" asked Nesvitski.\ +\ +"I was going to ask you. I know nothing except that it was all I could\ +do to get here."\ +\ +"And we, my dear boy! It's terrible! I was wrong to laugh at Mack, we're\ +getting it still worse," said Nesvitski. "But sit down and have\ +something to eat."\ +\ +"You won't be able to find either your baggage or anything else now,\ +Prince. And God only knows where your man Peter is," said the other\ +adjutant.\ +\ +"Where are headquarters?"\ +\ +"We are to spend the night in Znaim."\ +\ +"Well, I have got all I need into packs for two horses," said Nesvitski.\ +"They've made up splendid packs for me--fit to cross the Bohemian\ +mountains with. It's a bad lookout, old fellow! But what's the matter\ +with you? You must be ill to shiver like that," he added, noticing that\ +Prince Andrew winced as at an electric shock.\ +\ +"It's nothing," replied Prince Andrew.\ +\ +He had just remembered his recent encounter with the doctor's wife and\ +the convoy officer.\ +\ +"What is the commander-in-chief doing here?" he asked.\ +\ +"I can't make out at all," said Nesvitski.\ +\ +"Well, all I can make out is that everything is abominable, abominable,\ +quite abominable!" said Prince Andrew, and he went off to the house\ +where the commander-in-chief was.\ +\ +Passing by Kutuzov's carriage and the exhausted saddle horses of his\ +suite, with their Cossacks who were talking loudly together, Prince\ +Andrew entered the passage. Kutuzov himself, he was told, was in the\ +house with Prince Bagration and Weyrother. Weyrother was the Austrian\ +general who had succeeded Schmidt. In the passage little Kozlovski was\ +squatting on his heels in front of a clerk. The clerk, with cuffs turned\ +up, was hastily writing at a tub turned bottom upwards. Kozlovski's face\ +looked worn--he too had evidently not slept all night. He glanced at\ +Prince Andrew and did not even nod to him.\ +\ +"Second line... have you written it?" he continued dictating to the\ +clerk. "The Kiev Grenadiers, Podolian..."\ +\ +"One can't write so fast, your honor," said the clerk, glancing angrily\ +and disrespectfully at Kozlovski.\ +\ +Through the door came the sounds of Kutuzov's voice, excited and\ +dissatisfied, interrupted by another, an unfamiliar voice. From the\ +sound of these voices, the inattentive way Kozlovski looked at him, the\ +disrespectful manner of the exhausted clerk, the fact that the clerk and\ +Kozlovski were squatting on the floor by a tub so near to the commander\ +in chief, and from the noisy laughter of the Cossacks holding the horses\ +near the window, Prince Andrew felt that something important and\ +disastrous was about to happen.\ +\ +He turned to Kozlovski with urgent questions.\ +\ +"Immediately, Prince," said Kozlovski. "Dispositions for Bagration."\ +\ +"What about capitulation?"\ +\ +"Nothing of the sort. Orders are issued for a battle."\ +\ +Prince Andrew moved toward the door from whence voices were heard. Just\ +as he was going to open it the sounds ceased, the door opened, and\ +Kutuzov with his eagle nose and puffy face appeared in the doorway.\ +Prince Andrew stood right in front of Kutuzov but the expression of the\ +commander in chief's one sound eye showed him to be so preoccupied with\ +thoughts and anxieties as to be oblivious of his presence. He looked\ +straight at his adjutant's face without recognizing him.\ +\ +"Well, have you finished?" said he to Kozlovski.\ +\ +"One moment, your excellency."\ +\ +Bagration, a gaunt middle-aged man of medium height with a firm,\ +impassive face of Oriental type, came out after the commander-in-chief.\ +\ +"I have the honor to present myself," repeated Prince Andrew rather\ +loudly, handing Kutuzov an envelope.\ +\ +"Ah, from Vienna? Very good. Later, later!"\ +\ +Kutuzov went out into the porch with Bagration.\ +\ +"Well, good-by, Prince," said he to Bagration. "My blessing, and may\ +Christ be with you in your great endeavor!"\ +\ +His face suddenly softened and tears came into his eyes. With his left\ +hand he drew Bagration toward him, and with his right, on which he wore\ +a ring, he made the sign of the cross over him with a gesture evidently\ +habitual, offering his puffy cheek, but Bagration kissed him on the neck\ +instead.\ +\ +"Christ be with you!" Kutuzov repeated and went toward his carriage.\ +"Get in with me," said he to Bolkonski.\ +\ +"Your excellency, I should like to be of use here. Allow me to remain\ +with Prince Bagration's detachment."\ +\ +"Get in," said Kutuzov, and noticing that Bolkonski still delayed, he\ +added: "I need good officers myself, need them myself!"\ +\ +They got into the carriage and drove for a few minutes in silence.\ +\ +"There is still much, much before us," he said, as if with an old man's\ +penetration he understood all that was passing in Bolkonski's mind. "If\ +a tenth part of his detachment returns I shall thank God," he added as\ +if speaking to himself.\ +\ +Prince Andrew glanced at Kutuzov's face only a foot distant from him and\ +involuntarily noticed the carefully washed seams of the scar near his\ +temple, where an Ismail bullet had pierced his skull, and the empty eye\ +socket. "Yes, he has a right to speak so calmly of those men's death,"\ +thought Bolkonski.\ +\ +"That is why I beg to be sent to that detachment," he said.\ +\ +Kutuzov did not reply. He seemed to have forgotten what he had been\ +saying, and sat plunged in thought. Five minutes later, gently swaying\ +on the soft springs of the carriage, he turned to Prince Andrew. There\ +was not a trace of agitation on his face. With delicate irony he\ +questioned Prince Andrew about the details of his interview with the\ +Emperor, about the remarks he had heard at court concerning the Krems\ +affair, and about some ladies they both knew.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XIV\ +\ +On November 1 Kutuzov had received, through a spy, news that the army he\ +commanded was in an almost hopeless position. The spy reported that the\ +French, after crossing the bridge at Vienna, were advancing in immense\ +force upon Kutuzov's line of communication with the troops that were\ +arriving from Russia. If Kutuzov decided to remain at Krems, Napoleon's\ +army of one hundred and fifty thousand men would cut him off completely\ +and surround his exhausted army of forty thousand, and he would find\ +himself in the position of Mack at Ulm. If Kutuzov decided to abandon\ +the road connecting him with the troops arriving from Russia, he would\ +have to march with no road into unknown parts of the Bohemian mountains,\ +defending himself against superior forces of the enemy and abandoning\ +all hope of a junction with Buxhowden. If Kutuzov decided to retreat\ +along the road from Krems to Olmutz, to unite with the troops arriving\ +from Russia, he risked being forestalled on that road by the French who\ +had crossed the Vienna bridge, and encumbered by his baggage and\ +transport, having to accept battle on the march against an enemy three\ +times as strong, who would hem him in from two sides.\ +\ +Kutuzov chose this latter course.\ +\ +The French, the spy reported, having crossed the Vienna bridge, were\ +advancing by forced marches toward Znaim, which lay sixty-six miles off\ +on the line of Kutuzov's retreat. If he reached Znaim before the French,\ +there would be great hope of saving the army; to let the French\ +forestall him at Znaim meant the exposure of his whole army to a\ +disgrace such as that of Ulm, or to utter destruction. But to forestall\ +the French with his whole army was impossible. The road for the French\ +from Vienna to Znaim was shorter and better than the road for the\ +Russians from Krems to Znaim.\ +\ +The night he received the news, Kutuzov sent Bagration's vanguard, four\ +thousand strong, to the right across the hills from the Krems-Znaim to\ +the Vienna-Znaim road. Bagration was to make this march without resting,\ +and to halt facing Vienna with Znaim to his rear, and if he succeeded in\ +forestalling the French he was to delay them as long as possible.\ +Kutuzov himself with all his transport took the road to Znaim.\ +\ +Marching thirty miles that stormy night across roadless hills, with his\ +hungry, ill-shod soldiers, and losing a third of his men as stragglers\ +by the way, Bagration came out on the Vienna-Znaim road at Hollabrunn a\ +few hours ahead of the French who were approaching Hollabrunn from\ +Vienna. Kutuzov with his transport had still to march for some days\ +before he could reach Znaim. Hence Bagration with his four thousand\ +hungry, exhausted men would have to detain for days the whole enemy army\ +that came upon him at Hollabrunn, which was clearly impossible. But a\ +freak of fate made the impossible possible. The success of the trick\ +that had placed the Vienna bridge in the hands of the French without a\ +fight led Murat to try to deceive Kutuzov in a similar way. Meeting\ +Bagration's weak detachment on the Znaim road he supposed it to be\ +Kutuzov's whole army. To be able to crush it absolutely he awaited the\ +arrival of the rest of the troops who were on their way from Vienna, and\ +with this object offered a three days' truce on condition that both\ +armies should remain in position without moving. Murat declared that\ +negotiations for peace were already proceeding, and that he therefore\ +offered this truce to avoid unnecessary bloodshed. Count Nostitz, the\ +Austrian general occupying the advanced posts, believed Murat's emissary\ +and retired, leaving Bagration's division exposed. Another emissary rode\ +to the Russian line to announce the peace negotiations and to offer the\ +Russian army the three days' truce. Bagration replied that he was not\ +authorized either to accept or refuse a truce and sent his adjutant to\ +Kutuzov to report the offer he had received.\ +\ +A truce was Kutuzov's sole chance of gaining time, giving Bagration's\ +exhausted troops some rest, and letting the transport and heavy convoys\ +(whose movements were concealed from the French) advance if but one\ +stage nearer Znaim. The offer of a truce gave the only, and a quite\ +unexpected, chance of saving the army. On receiving the news he\ +immediately dispatched Adjutant General Wintzingerode, who was in\ +attendance on him, to the enemy camp. Wintzingerode was not merely to\ +agree to the truce but also to offer terms of capitulation, and\ +meanwhile Kutuzov sent his adjutants back to hasten to the utmost the\ +movements of the baggage trains of the entire army along the Krems-Znaim\ +road. Bagration's exhausted and hungry detachment, which alone covered\ +this movement of the transport and of the whole army, had to remain\ +stationary in face of an enemy eight times as strong as itself.\ +\ +Kutuzov's expectations that the proposals of capitulation (which were in\ +no way binding) might give time for part of the transport to pass, and\ +also that Murat's mistake would very soon be discovered, proved correct.\ +As soon as Bonaparte (who was at Schonbrunn, sixteen miles from\ +Hollabrunn) received Murat's dispatch with the proposal of a truce and a\ +capitulation, he detected a ruse and wrote the following letter to\ +Murat:\ +\ +Schonbrunn, 25th Brumaire, 1805,\ +\ +at eight o'clock in the morning\ +\ +To PRINCE MURAT,\ +\ +I cannot find words to express to you my displeasure. You command only\ +my advance guard, and have no right to arrange an armistice without my\ +order. You are causing me to lose the fruits of a campaign. Break the\ +armistice immediately and march on the enemy. Inform him that the\ +general who signed that capitulation had no right to do so, and that no\ +one but the Emperor of Russia has that right.\ +\ +If, however, the Emperor of Russia ratifies that convention, I will\ +ratify it; but it is only a trick. March on, destroy the Russian\ +army.... You are in a position to seize its baggage and artillery.\ +\ +The Russian Emperor's aide-de-camp is an impostor. Officers are nothing\ +when they have no powers; this one had none.... The Austrians let\ +themselves be tricked at the crossing of the Vienna bridge, you are\ +letting yourself be tricked by an aide-de-camp of the Emperor.\ +\ +NAPOLEON\ +\ +Bonaparte's adjutant rode full gallop with this menacing letter to\ +Murat. Bonaparte himself, not trusting to his generals, moved with all\ +the Guards to the field of battle, afraid of letting a ready victim\ +escape, and Bagration's four thousand men merrily lighted campfires,\ +dried and warmed themselves, cooked their porridge for the first time\ +for three days, and not one of them knew or imagined what was in store\ +for him.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XV\ +\ +Between three and four o'clock in the afternoon Prince Andrew, who had\ +persisted in his request to Kutuzov, arrived at Grunth and reported\ +himself to Bagration. Bonaparte's adjutant had not yet reached Murat's\ +detachment and the battle had not yet begun. In Bagration's detachment\ +no one knew anything of the general position of affairs. They talked of\ +peace but did not believe in its possibility; others talked of a battle\ +but also disbelieved in the nearness of an engagement. Bagration,\ +knowing Bolkonski to be a favorite and trusted adjutant, received him\ +with distinction and special marks of favor, explaining to him that\ +there would probably be an engagement that day or the next, and giving\ +him full liberty to remain with him during the battle or to join the\ +rearguard and have an eye on the order of retreat, "which is also very\ +important."\ +\ +"However, there will hardly be an engagement today," said Bagration as\ +if to reassure Prince Andrew.\ +\ +"If he is one of the ordinary little staff dandies sent to earn a medal\ +he can get his reward just as well in the rearguard, but if he wishes to\ +stay with me, let him... he'll be of use here if he's a brave officer,"\ +thought Bagration. Prince Andrew, without replying, asked the prince's\ +permission to ride round the position to see the disposition of the\ +forces, so as to know his bearings should he be sent to execute an\ +order. The officer on duty, a handsome, elegantly dressed man with a\ +diamond ring on his forefinger, who was fond of speaking French though\ +he spoke it badly, offered to conduct Prince Andrew.\ +\ +On all sides they saw rain-soaked officers with dejected faces who\ +seemed to be seeking something, and soldiers dragging doors, benches,\ +and fencing from the village.\ +\ +"There now, Prince! We can't stop those fellows," said the staff officer\ +pointing to the soldiers. "The officers don't keep them in hand. And\ +there," he pointed to a sutler's tent, "they crowd in and sit. This\ +morning I turned them all out and now look, it's full again. I must go\ +there, Prince, and scare them a bit. It won't take a moment."\ +\ +"Yes, let's go in and I will get myself a roll and some cheese," said\ +Prince Andrew who had not yet had time to eat anything.\ +\ +"Why didn't you mention it, Prince? I would have offered you something."\ +\ +They dismounted and entered the tent. Several officers, with flushed and\ +weary faces, were sitting at the table eating and drinking.\ +\ +"Now what does this mean, gentlemen?" said the staff officer, in the\ +reproachful tone of a man who has repeated the same thing more than\ +once. "You know it won't do to leave your posts like this. The prince\ +gave orders that no one should leave his post. Now you, Captain," and he\ +turned to a thin, dirty little artillery officer who without his boots\ +(he had given them to the canteen keeper to dry), in only his stockings,\ +rose when they entered, smiling not altogether comfortably.\ +\ +"Well, aren't you ashamed of yourself, Captain Tushin?" he continued.\ +"One would think that as an artillery officer you would set a good\ +example, yet here you are without your boots! The alarm will be sounded\ +and you'll be in a pretty position without your boots!" (The staff\ +officer smiled.) "Kindly return to your posts, gentlemen, all of you,\ +all!" he added in a tone of command.\ +\ +Prince Andrew smiled involuntarily as he looked at the artillery officer\ +Tushin, who silent and smiling, shifting from one stockinged foot to the\ +other, glanced inquiringly with his large, intelligent, kindly eyes from\ +Prince Andrew to the staff officer.\ +\ +"The soldiers say it feels easier without boots," said Captain Tushin\ +smiling shyly in his uncomfortable position, evidently wishing to adopt\ +a jocular tone. But before he had finished he felt that his jest was\ +unacceptable and had not come off. He grew confused.\ +\ +"Kindly return to your posts," said the staff officer trying to preserve\ +his gravity.\ +\ +Prince Andrew glanced again at the artillery officer's small figure.\ +There was something peculiar about it, quite unsoldierly, rather comic,\ +but extremely attractive.\ +\ +The staff officer and Prince Andrew mounted their horses and rode on.\ +\ +Having ridden beyond the village, continually meeting and overtaking\ +soldiers and officers of various regiments, they saw on their left some\ +entrenchments being thrown up, the freshly dug clay of which showed up\ +red. Several battalions of soldiers, in their shirt sleeves despite the\ +cold wind, swarmed in these earthworks like a host of white ants;\ +spadefuls of red clay were continually being thrown up from behind the\ +bank by unseen hands. Prince Andrew and the officer rode up, looked at\ +the entrenchment, and went on again. Just behind it they came upon some\ +dozens of soldiers, continually replaced by others, who ran from the\ +entrenchment. They had to hold their noses and put their horses to a\ +trot to escape from the poisoned atmosphere of these latrines.\ +\ +"Voila l'agrement des camps, monsieur le Prince," * said the staff\ +officer.\ +\ +\ +* "This is a pleasure one gets in camp, Prince."\ +\ +They rode up the opposite hill. From there the French could already be\ +seen. Prince Andrew stopped and began examining the position.\ +\ +"That's our battery," said the staff officer indicating the highest\ +point. "It's in charge of the queer fellow we saw without his boots. You\ +can see everything from there; let's go there, Prince."\ +\ +"Thank you very much, I will go on alone," said Prince Andrew, wishing\ +to rid himself of this staff officer's company, "please don't trouble\ +yourself further."\ +\ +The staff officer remained behind and Prince Andrew rode on alone.\ +\ +The farther forward and nearer the enemy he went, the more orderly and\ +cheerful were the troops. The greatest disorder and depression had been\ +in the baggage train he had passed that morning on the Znaim road seven\ +miles away from the French. At Grunth also some apprehension and alarm\ +could be felt, but the nearer Prince Andrew came to the French lines the\ +more confident was the appearance of our troops. The soldiers in their\ +greatcoats were ranged in lines, the sergeants major and company\ +officers were counting the men, poking the last man in each section in\ +the ribs and telling him to hold his hand up. Soldiers scattered over\ +the whole place were dragging logs and brushwood and were building\ +shelters with merry chatter and laughter; around the fires sat others,\ +dressed and undressed, drying their shirts and leg bands or mending\ +boots or overcoats and crowding round the boilers and porridge cookers.\ +In one company dinner was ready, and the soldiers were gazing eagerly at\ +the steaming boiler, waiting till the sample, which a quartermaster\ +sergeant was carrying in a wooden bowl to an officer who sat on a log\ +before his shelter, had been tasted.\ +\ +Another company, a lucky one for not all the companies had vodka,\ +crowded round a pockmarked, broad-shouldered sergeant major who, tilting\ +a keg, filled one after another the canteen lids held out to him. The\ +soldiers lifted the canteen lids to their lips with reverential faces,\ +emptied them, rolling the vodka in their mouths, and walked away from\ +the sergeant major with brightened expressions, licking their lips and\ +wiping them on the sleeves of their greatcoats. All their faces were as\ +serene as if all this were happening at home awaiting peaceful\ +encampment, and not within sight of the enemy before an action in which\ +at least half of them would be left on the field. After passing a\ +chasseur regiment and in the lines of the Kiev grenadiers--fine fellows\ +busy with similar peaceful affairs--near the shelter of the regimental\ +commander, higher than and different from the others, Prince Andrew came\ +out in front of a platoon of grenadiers before whom lay a naked man. Two\ +soldiers held him while two others were flourishing their switches and\ +striking him regularly on his bare back. The man shrieked unnaturally. A\ +stout major was pacing up and down the line, and regardless of the\ +screams kept repeating:\ +\ +"It's a shame for a soldier to steal; a soldier must be honest,\ +honorable, and brave, but if he robs his fellows there is no honor in\ +him, he's a scoundrel. Go on! Go on!"\ +\ +So the swishing sound of the strokes, and the desperate but unnatural\ +screams, continued.\ +\ +"Go on, go on!" said the major.\ +\ +A young officer with a bewildered and pained expression on his face\ +stepped away from the man and looked round inquiringly at the adjutant\ +as he rode by.\ +\ +Prince Andrew, having reached the front line, rode along it. Our front\ +line and that of the enemy were far apart on the right and left flanks,\ +but in the center where the men with a flag of truce had passed that\ +morning, the lines were so near together that the men could see one\ +another's faces and speak to one another. Besides the soldiers who\ +formed the picket line on either side, there were many curious onlookers\ +who, jesting and laughing, stared at their strange foreign enemies.\ +\ +Since early morning--despite an injunction not to approach the picket\ +line--the officers had been unable to keep sight-seers away. The\ +soldiers forming the picket line, like showmen exhibiting a curiosity,\ +no longer looked at the French but paid attention to the sight-seers and\ +grew weary waiting to be relieved. Prince Andrew halted to have a look\ +at the French.\ +\ +"Look! Look there!" one soldier was saying to another, pointing to a\ +Russian musketeer who had gone up to the picket line with an officer and\ +was rapidly and excitedly talking to a French grenadier. "Hark to him\ +jabbering! Fine, isn't it? It's all the Frenchy can do to keep up with\ +him. There now, Sidorov!"\ +\ +"Wait a bit and listen. It's fine!" answered Sidorov, who was considered\ +an adept at French.\ +\ +The soldier to whom the laughers referred was Dolokhov. Prince Andrew\ +recognized him and stopped to listen to what he was saying. Dolokhov had\ +come from the left flank where their regiment was stationed, with his\ +captain.\ +\ +"Now then, go on, go on!" incited the officer, bending forward and\ +trying not to lose a word of the speech which was incomprehensible to\ +him. "More, please: more! What's he saying?"\ +\ +Dolokhov did not answer the captain; he had been drawn into a hot\ +dispute with the French grenadier. They were naturally talking about the\ +campaign. The Frenchman, confusing the Austrians with the Russians, was\ +trying to prove that the Russians had surrendered and had fled all the\ +way from Ulm, while Dolokhov maintained that the Russians had not\ +surrendered but had beaten the French.\ +\ +"We have orders to drive you off here, and we shall drive you off," said\ +Dolokhov.\ +\ +"Only take care you and your Cossacks are not all captured!" said the\ +French grenadier.\ +\ +The French onlookers and listeners laughed.\ +\ +"We'll make you dance as we did under Suvorov...," * said Dolokhov.\ +\ +\ +* "On vous fera danser."\ +\ +"Qu' est-ce qu'il chante?" * asked a Frenchman.\ +\ +\ +* "What's he singing about?"\ +\ +"It's ancient history," said another, guessing that it referred to a\ +former war. "The Emperor will teach your Suvara as he has taught the\ +others..."\ +\ +"Bonaparte..." began Dolokhov, but the Frenchman interrupted him.\ +\ +"Not Bonaparte. He is the Emperor! Sacre nom...!" cried he angrily.\ +\ +"The devil skin your Emperor."\ +\ +And Dolokhov swore at him in coarse soldier's Russian and shouldering\ +his musket walked away.\ +\ +"Let us go, Ivan Lukich," he said to the captain.\ +\ +"Ah, that's the way to talk French," said the picket soldiers. "Now,\ +Sidorov, you have a try!"\ +\ +Sidorov, turning to the French, winked, and began to jabber meaningless\ +sounds very fast: "Kari, mala, tafa, safi, muter, Kaska," he said,\ +trying to give an expressive intonation to his voice.\ +\ +"Ho! ho! ho! Ha! ha! ha! ha! Ouh! ouh!" came peals of such healthy and\ +good-humored laughter from the soldiers that it infected the French\ +involuntarily, so much so that the only thing left to do seemed to be to\ +unload the muskets, explode the ammunition, and all return home as\ +quickly as possible.\ +\ +But the guns remained loaded, the loopholes in blockhouses and\ +entrenchments looked out just as menacingly, and the unlimbered cannon\ +confronted one another as before.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XVI\ +\ +Having ridden round the whole line from right flank to left, Prince\ +Andrew made his way up to the battery from which the staff officer had\ +told him the whole field could be seen. Here he dismounted, and stopped\ +beside the farthest of the four unlimbered cannon. Before the guns an\ +artillery sentry was pacing up and down; he stood at attention when the\ +officer arrived, but at a sign resumed his measured, monotonous pacing.\ +Behind the guns were their limbers and still farther back picket ropes\ +and artillerymen's bonfires. To the left, not far from the farthest\ +cannon, was a small, newly constructed wattle shed from which came the\ +sound of officers' voices in eager conversation.\ +\ +It was true that a view over nearly the whole Russian position and the\ +greater part of the enemy's opened out from this battery. Just facing\ +it, on the crest of the opposite hill, the village of Schon Grabern\ +could be seen, and in three places to left and right the French troops\ +amid the smoke of their campfires, the greater part of whom were\ +evidently in the village itself and behind the hill. To the left from\ +that village, amid the smoke, was something resembling a battery, but it\ +was impossible to see it clearly with the naked eye. Our right flank was\ +posted on a rather steep incline which dominated the French position.\ +Our infantry were stationed there, and at the farthest point the\ +dragoons. In the center, where Tushin's battery stood and from which\ +Prince Andrew was surveying the position, was the easiest and most\ +direct descent and ascent to the brook separating us from Schon Grabern.\ +On the left our troops were close to a copse, in which smoked the\ +bonfires of our infantry who were felling wood. The French line was\ +wider than ours, and it was plain that they could easily outflank us on\ +both sides. Behind our position was a steep and deep dip, making it\ +difficult for artillery and cavalry to retire. Prince Andrew took out\ +his notebook and, leaning on the cannon, sketched a plan of the\ +position. He made some notes on two points, intending to mention them to\ +Bagration. His idea was, first, to concentrate all the artillery in the\ +center, and secondly, to withdraw the cavalry to the other side of the\ +dip. Prince Andrew, being always near the commander in chief, closely\ +following the mass movements and general orders, and constantly studying\ +historical accounts of battles, involuntarily pictured to himself the\ +course of events in the forthcoming action in broad outline. He imagined\ +only important possibilities: "If the enemy attacks the right flank," he\ +said to himself, "the Kiev grenadiers and the Podolsk chasseurs must\ +hold their position till reserves from the center come up. In that case\ +the dragoons could successfully make a flank counterattack. If they\ +attack our center we, having the center battery on this high ground,\ +shall withdraw the left flank under its cover, and retreat to the dip by\ +echelons." So he reasoned.... All the time he had been beside the gun,\ +he had heard the voices of the officers distinctly, but as often happens\ +had not understood a word of what they were saying. Suddenly, however,\ +he was struck by a voice coming from the shed, and its tone was so\ +sincere that he could not but listen.\ +\ +"No, friend," said a pleasant and, as it seemed to Prince Andrew, a\ +familiar voice, "what I say is that if it were possible to know what is\ +beyond death, none of us would be afraid of it. That's so, friend."\ +\ +Another, a younger voice, interrupted him: "Afraid or not, you can't\ +escape it anyhow."\ +\ +"All the same, one is afraid! Oh, you clever people," said a third manly\ +voice interrupting them both. "Of course you artillery men are very\ +wise, because you can take everything along with you--vodka and snacks."\ +\ +And the owner of the manly voice, evidently an infantry officer,\ +laughed.\ +\ +"Yes, one is afraid," continued the first speaker, he of the familiar\ +voice. "One is afraid of the unknown, that's what it is. Whatever we may\ +say about the soul going to the sky... we know there is no sky but only\ +an atmosphere."\ +\ +The manly voice again interrupted the artillery officer.\ +\ +"Well, stand us some of your herb vodka, Tushin," it said.\ +\ +"Why," thought Prince Andrew, "that's the captain who stood up in the\ +sutler's hut without his boots." He recognized the agreeable,\ +philosophizing voice with pleasure.\ +\ +"Some herb vodka? Certainly!" said Tushin. "But still, to conceive a\ +future life..."\ +\ +He did not finish. Just then there was a whistle in the air; nearer and\ +nearer, faster and louder, louder and faster, a cannon ball, as if it\ +had not finished saying what was necessary, thudded into the ground near\ +the shed with super human force, throwing up a mass of earth. The ground\ +seemed to groan at the terrible impact.\ +\ +And immediately Tushin, with a short pipe in the corner of his mouth and\ +his kind, intelligent face rather pale, rushed out of the shed followed\ +by the owner of the manly voice, a dashing infantry officer who hurried\ +off to his company, buttoning up his coat as he ran.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XVII\ +\ +Mounting his horse again Prince Andrew lingered with the battery,\ +looking at the puff from the gun that had sent the ball. His eyes ran\ +rapidly over the wide space, but he only saw that the hitherto\ +motionless masses of the French now swayed and that there really was a\ +battery to their left. The smoke above it had not yet dispersed. Two\ +mounted Frenchmen, probably adjutants, were galloping up the hill. A\ +small but distinctly visible enemy column was moving down the hill,\ +probably to strengthen the front line. The smoke of the first shot had\ +not yet dispersed before another puff appeared, followed by a report.\ +The battle had begun! Prince Andrew turned his horse and galloped back\ +to Grunth to find Prince Bagration. He heard the cannonade behind him\ +growing louder and more frequent. Evidently our guns had begun to reply.\ +From the bottom of the slope, where the parleys had taken place, came\ +the report of musketry.\ +\ +Lemarrois had just arrived at a gallop with Bonaparte's stern letter,\ +and Murat, humiliated and anxious to expiate his fault, had at once\ +moved his forces to attack the center and outflank both the Russian\ +wings, hoping before evening and before the arrival of the Emperor to\ +crush the contemptible detachment that stood before him.\ +\ +"It has begun. Here it is!" thought Prince Andrew, feeling the blood\ +rush to his heart. "But where and how will my Toulon present itself?"\ +\ +Passing between the companies that had been eating porridge and drinking\ +vodka a quarter of an hour before, he saw everywhere the same rapid\ +movement of soldiers forming ranks and getting their muskets ready, and\ +on all their faces he recognized the same eagerness that filled his\ +heart. "It has begun! Here it is, dreadful but enjoyable!" was what the\ +face of each soldier and each officer seemed to say.\ +\ +Before he had reached the embankments that were being thrown up, he saw,\ +in the light of the dull autumn evening, mounted men coming toward him.\ +The foremost, wearing a Cossack cloak and lambskin cap and riding a\ +white horse, was Prince Bagration. Prince Andrew stopped, waiting for\ +him to come up; Prince Bagration reined in his horse and recognizing\ +Prince Andrew nodded to him. He still looked ahead while Prince Andrew\ +told him what he had seen.\ +\ +The feeling, "It has begun! Here it is!" was seen even on Prince\ +Bagration's hard brown face with its half-closed, dull, sleepy eyes.\ +Prince Andrew gazed with anxious curiosity at that impassive face and\ +wished he could tell what, if anything, this man was thinking and\ +feeling at that moment. "Is there anything at all behind that impassive\ +face?" Prince Andrew asked himself as he looked. Prince Bagration bent\ +his head in sign of agreement with what Prince Andrew told him, and\ +said, "Very good!" in a tone that seemed to imply that everything that\ +took place and was reported to him was exactly what he had foreseen.\ +Prince Andrew, out of breath with his rapid ride, spoke quickly. Prince\ +Bagration, uttering his words with an Oriental accent, spoke\ +particularly slowly, as if to impress the fact that there was no need to\ +hurry. However, he put his horse to a trot in the direction of Tushin's\ +battery. Prince Andrew followed with the suite. Behind Prince Bagration\ +rode an officer of the suite, the prince's personal adjutant, Zherkov,\ +an orderly officer, the staff officer on duty, riding a fine bobtailed\ +horse, and a civilian--an accountant who had asked permission to be\ +present at the battle out of curiosity. The accountant, a stout, full-\ +faced man, looked around him with a naive smile of satisfaction and\ +presented a strange appearance among the hussars, Cossacks, and\ +adjutants, in his camlet coat, as he jolted on his horse with a convoy\ +officer's saddle.\ +\ +"He wants to see a battle," said Zherkov to Bolkonski, pointing to the\ +accountant, "but he feels a pain in the pit of his stomach already."\ +\ +"Oh, leave off!" said the accountant with a beaming but rather cunning\ +smile, as if flattered at being made the subject of Zherkov's joke, and\ +purposely trying to appear stupider than he really was.\ +\ +"It is very strange, mon Monsieur Prince," said the staff officer. (He\ +remembered that in French there is some peculiar way of addressing a\ +prince, but could not get it quite right.)\ +\ +By this time they were all approaching Tushin's battery, and a ball\ +struck the ground in front of them.\ +\ +"What's that that has fallen?" asked the accountant with a naive smile.\ +\ +"A French pancake," answered Zherkov.\ +\ +"So that's what they hit with?" asked the accountant. "How awful!"\ +\ +He seemed to swell with satisfaction. He had hardly finished speaking\ +when they again heard an unexpectedly violent whistling which suddenly\ +ended with a thud into something soft... f-f-flop! and a Cossack, riding\ +a little to their right and behind the accountant, crashed to earth with\ +his horse. Zherkov and the staff officer bent over their saddles and\ +turned their horses away. The accountant stopped, facing the Cossack,\ +and examined him with attentive curiosity. The Cossack was dead, but the\ +horse still struggled.\ +\ +Prince Bagration screwed up his eyes, looked round, and, seeing the\ +cause of the confusion, turned away with indifference, as if to say, "Is\ +it worth while noticing trifles?" He reined in his horse with the care\ +of a skillful rider and, slightly bending over, disengaged his saber\ +which had caught in his cloak. It was an old-fashioned saber of a kind\ +no longer in general use. Prince Andrew remembered the story of Suvorov\ +giving his saber to Bagration in Italy, and the recollection was\ +particularly pleasant at that moment. They had reached the battery at\ +which Prince Andrew had been when he examined the battlefield.\ +\ +"Whose company?" asked Prince Bagration of an artilleryman standing by\ +the ammunition wagon.\ +\ +He asked, "Whose company?" but he really meant, "Are you frightened\ +here?" and the artilleryman understood him.\ +\ +"Captain Tushin's, your excellency!" shouted the red-haired, freckled\ +gunner in a merry voice, standing to attention.\ +\ +"Yes, yes," muttered Bagration as if considering something, and he rode\ +past the limbers to the farthest cannon.\ +\ +As he approached, a ringing shot issued from it deafening him and his\ +suite, and in the smoke that suddenly surrounded the gun they could see\ +the gunners who had seized it straining to roll it quickly back to its\ +former position. A huge, broad-shouldered gunner, Number One, holding a\ +mop, his legs far apart, sprang to the wheel; while Number Two with a\ +trembling hand placed a charge in the cannon's mouth. The short, round-\ +shouldered Captain Tushin, stumbling over the tail of the gun carriage,\ +moved forward and, not noticing the general, looked out shading his eyes\ +with his small hand.\ +\ +"Lift it two lines more and it will be just right," cried he in a feeble\ +voice to which he tried to impart a dashing note, ill-suited to his weak\ +figure. "Number Two!" he squeaked. "Fire, Medvedev!"\ +\ +Bagration called to him, and Tushin, raising three fingers to his cap\ +with a bashful and awkward gesture not at all like a military salute but\ +like a priest's benediction, approached the general. Though Tushin's\ +guns had been intended to cannonade the valley, he was firing incendiary\ +balls at the village of Schon Grabern visible just opposite, in front of\ +which large masses of French were advancing.\ +\ +No one had given Tushin orders where and at what to fire, but after\ +consulting his sergeant major, Zakharchenko, for whom he had great\ +respect, he had decided that it would be a good thing to set fire to the\ +village. "Very good!" said Bagration in reply to the officer's report,\ +and began deliberately to examine the whole battlefield extended before\ +him. The French had advanced nearest on our right. Below the height on\ +which the Kiev regiment was stationed, in the hollow where the rivulet\ +flowed, the soul-stirring rolling and crackling of musketry was heard,\ +and much farther to the right beyond the dragoons, the officer of the\ +suite pointed out to Bagration a French column that was outflanking us.\ +To the left the horizon bounded by the adjacent wood. Prince Bagration\ +ordered two battalions from the center to be sent to reinforce the right\ +flank. The officer of the suite ventured to remark to the prince that if\ +these battalions went away, the guns would remain without support.\ +Prince Bagration turned to the officer and with his dull eyes looked at\ +him in silence. It seemed to Prince Andrew that the officer's remark was\ +just and that really no answer could be made to it. But at that moment\ +an adjutant galloped up with a message from the commander of the\ +regiment in the hollow and news that immense masses of the French were\ +coming down upon them and that his regiment was in disorder and was\ +retreating upon the Kiev grenadiers. Prince Bagration bowed his head in\ +sign of assent and approval. He rode off at a walk to the right and sent\ +an adjutant to the dragoons with orders to attack the French. But this\ +adjutant returned half an hour later with the news that the commander of\ +the dragoons had already retreated beyond the dip in the ground, as a\ +heavy fire had been opened on him and he was losing men uselessly, and\ +so had hastened to throw some sharpshooters into the wood.\ +\ +"Very good!" said Bagration.\ +\ +As he was leaving the battery, firing was heard on the left also, and as\ +it was too far to the left flank for him to have time to go there\ +himself, Prince Bagration sent Zherkov to tell the general in command\ +(the one who had paraded his regiment before Kutuzov at Braunau) that he\ +must retreat as quickly as possible behind the hollow in the rear, as\ +the right flank would probably not be able to withstand the enemy's\ +attack very long. About Tushin and the battalion that had been in\ +support of his battery all was forgotten. Prince Andrew listened\ +attentively to Bagration's colloquies with the commanding officers and\ +the orders he gave them and, to his surprise, found that no orders were\ +really given, but that Prince Bagration tried to make it appear that\ +everything done by necessity, by accident, or by the will of subordinate\ +commanders was done, if not by his direct command, at least in accord\ +with his intentions. Prince Andrew noticed, however, that though what\ +happened was due to chance and was independent of the commander's will,\ +owing to the tact Bagration showed, his presence was very valuable.\ +Officers who approached him with disturbed countenances became calm;\ +soldiers and officers greeted him gaily, grew more cheerful in his\ +presence, and were evidently anxious to display their courage before\ +him.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XVIII\ +\ +Prince Bagration, having reached the highest point of our right flank,\ +began riding downhill to where the roll of musketry was heard but where\ +on account of the smoke nothing could be seen. The nearer they got to\ +the hollow the less they could see but the more they felt the nearness\ +of the actual battlefield. They began to meet wounded men. One with a\ +bleeding head and no cap was being dragged along by two soldiers who\ +supported him under the arms. There was a gurgle in his throat and he\ +was spitting blood. A bullet had evidently hit him in the throat or\ +mouth. Another was walking sturdily by himself but without his musket,\ +groaning aloud and swinging his arm which had just been hurt, while\ +blood from it was streaming over his greatcoat as from a bottle. He had\ +that moment been wounded and his face showed fear rather than suffering.\ +Crossing a road they descended a steep incline and saw several men lying\ +on the ground; they also met a crowd of soldiers some of whom were\ +unwounded. The soldiers were ascending the hill breathing heavily, and\ +despite the general's presence were talking loudly and gesticulating. In\ +front of them rows of gray cloaks were already visible through the\ +smoke, and an officer catching sight of Bagration rushed shouting after\ +the crowd of retreating soldiers, ordering them back. Bagration rode up\ +to the ranks along which shots crackled now here and now there, drowning\ +the sound of voices and the shouts of command. The whole air reeked with\ +smoke. The excited faces of the soldiers were blackened with it. Some\ +were using their ramrods, others putting powder on the touchpans or\ +taking charges from their pouches, while others were firing, though who\ +they were firing at could not be seen for the smoke which there was no\ +wind to carry away. A pleasant humming and whistling of bullets were\ +often heard. "What is this?" thought Prince Andrew approaching the crowd\ +of soldiers. "It can't be an attack, for they are not moving; it can't\ +be a square--for they are not drawn up for that."\ +\ +The commander of the regiment, a thin, feeble-looking old man with a\ +pleasant smile--his eyelids drooping more than half over his old eyes,\ +giving him a mild expression, rode up to Bagration and welcomed him as a\ +host welcomes an honored guest. He reported that his regiment had been\ +attacked by French cavalry and that, though the attack had been\ +repulsed, he had lost more than half his men. He said the attack had\ +been repulsed, employing this military term to describe what had\ +occurred to his regiment, but in reality he did not himself know what\ +had happened during that half-hour to the troops entrusted to him, and\ +could not say with certainty whether the attack had been repulsed or his\ +regiment had been broken up. All he knew was that at the commencement of\ +the action balls and shells began flying all over his regiment and\ +hitting men and that afterwards someone had shouted "Cavalry!" and our\ +men had begun firing. They were still firing, not at the cavalry which\ +had disappeared, but at French infantry who had come into the hollow and\ +were firing at our men. Prince Bagration bowed his head as a sign that\ +this was exactly what he had desired and expected. Turning to his\ +adjutant he ordered him to bring down the two battalions of the Sixth\ +Chasseurs whom they had just passed. Prince Andrew was struck by the\ +changed expression on Prince Bagration's face at this moment. It\ +expressed the concentrated and happy resolution you see on the face of a\ +man who on a hot day takes a final run before plunging into the water.\ +The dull, sleepy expression was no longer there, nor the affectation of\ +profound thought. The round, steady, hawk's eyes looked before him\ +eagerly and rather disdainfully, not resting on anything although his\ +movements were still slow and measured.\ +\ +The commander of the regiment turned to Prince Bagration, entreating him\ +to go back as it was too dangerous to remain where they were. "Please,\ +your excellency, for God's sake!" he kept saying, glancing for support\ +at an officer of the suite who turned away from him. "There, you see!"\ +and he drew attention to the bullets whistling, singing, and hissing\ +continually around them. He spoke in the tone of entreaty and reproach\ +that a carpenter uses to a gentleman who has picked up an ax: "We are\ +used to it, but you, sir, will blister your hands." He spoke as if those\ +bullets could not kill him, and his half-closed eyes gave still more\ +persuasiveness to his words. The staff officer joined in the colonel's\ +appeals, but Bagration did not reply; he only gave an order to cease\ +firing and re-form, so as to give room for the two approaching\ +battalions. While he was speaking, the curtain of smoke that had\ +concealed the hollow, driven by a rising wind, began to move from right\ +to left as if drawn by an invisible hand, and the hill opposite, with\ +the French moving about on it, opened out before them. All eyes fastened\ +involuntarily on this French column advancing against them and winding\ +down over the uneven ground. One could already see the soldiers' shaggy\ +caps, distinguish the officers from the men, and see the standard\ +flapping against its staff.\ +\ +"They march splendidly," remarked someone in Bagration's suite.\ +\ +The head of the column had already descended into the hollow. The clash\ +would take place on this side of it...\ +\ +The remains of our regiment which had been in action rapidly formed up\ +and moved to the right; from behind it, dispersing the laggards, came\ +two battalions of the Sixth Chasseurs in fine order. Before they had\ +reached Bagration, the weighty tread of the mass of men marching in step\ +could be heard. On their left flank, nearest to Bagration, marched a\ +company commander, a fine round-faced man, with a stupid and happy\ +expression--the same man who had rushed out of the wattle shed. At that\ +moment he was clearly thinking of nothing but how dashing a fellow he\ +would appear as he passed the commander.\ +\ +With the self-satisfaction of a man on parade, he stepped lightly with\ +his muscular legs as if sailing along, stretching himself to his full\ +height without the smallest effort, his ease contrasting with the heavy\ +tread of the soldiers who were keeping step with him. He carried close\ +to his leg a narrow unsheathed sword (small, curved, and not like a real\ +weapon) and looked now at the superior officers and now back at the men\ +without losing step, his whole powerful body turning flexibly. It was as\ +if all the powers of his soul were concentrated on passing the commander\ +in the best possible manner, and feeling that he was doing it well he\ +was happy. "Left... left... left..." he seemed to repeat to himself at\ +each alternate step; and in time to this, with stern but varied faces,\ +the wall of soldiers burdened with knapsacks and muskets marched in\ +step, and each one of these hundreds of soldiers seemed to be repeating\ +to himself at each alternate step, "Left... left... left..." A fat major\ +skirted a bush, puffing and falling out of step; a soldier who had\ +fallen behind, his face showing alarm at his defection, ran at a trot,\ +panting to catch up with his company. A cannon ball, cleaving the air,\ +flew over the heads of Bagration and his suite, and fell into the column\ +to the measure of "Left... left!" "Close up!" came the company\ +commander's voice in jaunty tones. The soldiers passed in a semicircle\ +round something where the ball had fallen, and an old trooper on the\ +flank, a noncommissioned officer who had stopped beside the dead men,\ +ran to catch up his line and, falling into step with a hop, looked back\ +angrily, and through the ominous silence and the regular tramp of feet\ +beating the ground in unison, one seemed to hear left... left... left.\ +\ +"Well done, lads!" said Prince Bagration.\ +\ +"Glad to do our best, your ex'len-lency!" came a confused shout from the\ +ranks. A morose soldier marching on the left turned his eyes on\ +Bagration as he shouted, with an expression that seemed to say: "We know\ +that ourselves!" Another, without looking round, as though fearing to\ +relax, shouted with his mouth wide open and passed on.\ +\ +The order was given to halt and down knapsacks.\ +\ +Bagration rode round the ranks that had marched past him and dismounted.\ +He gave the reins to a Cossack, took off and handed over his felt coat,\ +stretched his legs, and set his cap straight. The head of the French\ +column, with its officers leading, appeared from below the hill.\ +\ +"Forward, with God!" said Bagration, in a resolute, sonorous voice,\ +turning for a moment to the front line, and slightly swinging his arms,\ +he went forward uneasily over the rough field with the awkward gait of a\ +cavalryman. Prince Andrew felt that an invisible power was leading him\ +forward, and experienced great happiness.\ +\ +The French were already near. Prince Andrew, walking beside Bagration,\ +could clearly distinguish their bandoliers, red epaulets, and even their\ +faces. (He distinctly saw an old French officer who, with gaitered legs\ +and turned-out toes, climbed the hill with difficulty.) Prince Bagration\ +gave no further orders and silently continued to walk on in front of the\ +ranks. Suddenly one shot after another rang out from the French, smoke\ +appeared all along their uneven ranks, and musket shots sounded. Several\ +of our men fell, among them the round-faced officer who had marched so\ +gaily and complacently. But at the moment the first report was heard,\ +Bagration looked round and shouted, "Hurrah!"\ +\ +"Hurrah--ah!--ah!" rang a long-drawn shout from our ranks, and passing\ +Bagration and racing one another they rushed in an irregular but joyous\ +and eager crowd down the hill at their disordered foe.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XIX\ +\ +The attack of the Sixth Chasseurs secured the retreat of our right\ +flank. In the center Tushin's forgotten battery, which had managed to\ +set fire to the Schon Grabern village, delayed the French advance. The\ +French were putting out the fire which the wind was spreading, and thus\ +gave us time to retreat. The retirement of the center to the other side\ +of the dip in the ground at the rear was hurried and noisy, but the\ +different companies did not get mixed. But our left--which consisted of\ +the Azov and Podolsk infantry and the Pavlograd hussars--was\ +simultaneously attacked and outflanked by superior French forces under\ +Lannes and was thrown into confusion. Bagration had sent Zherkov to the\ +general commanding that left flank with orders to retreat immediately.\ +\ +Zherkov, not removing his hand from his cap, turned his horse about and\ +galloped off. But no sooner had he left Bagration than his courage\ +failed him. He was seized by panic and could not go where it was\ +dangerous.\ +\ +Having reached the left flank, instead of going to the front where the\ +firing was, he began to look for the general and his staff where they\ +could not possibly be, and so did not deliver the order.\ +\ +The command of the left flank belonged by seniority to the commander of\ +the regiment Kutuzov had reviewed at Braunau and in which Dolokhov was\ +serving as a private. But the command of the extreme left flank had been\ +assigned to the commander of the Pavlograd regiment in which Rostov was\ +serving, and a misunderstanding arose. The two commanders were much\ +exasperated with one another and, long after the action had begun on the\ +right flank and the French were already advancing, were engaged in\ +discussion with the sole object of offending one another. But the\ +regiments, both cavalry and infantry, were by no means ready for the\ +impending action. From privates to general they were not expecting a\ +battle and were engaged in peaceful occupations, the cavalry feeding the\ +horses and the infantry collecting wood.\ +\ +"He higher iss dan I in rank," said the German colonel of the hussars,\ +flushing and addressing an adjutant who had ridden up, "so let him do\ +what he vill, but I cannot sacrifice my hussars... Bugler, sount ze\ +retreat!"\ +\ +But haste was becoming imperative. Cannon and musketry, mingling\ +together, thundered on the right and in the center, while the capotes of\ +Lannes' sharpshooters were already seen crossing the milldam and forming\ +up within twice the range of a musket shot. The general in command of\ +the infantry went toward his horse with jerky steps, and having mounted\ +drew himself up very straight and tall and rode to the Pavlograd\ +commander. The commanders met with polite bows but with secret\ +malevolence in their hearts.\ +\ +"Once again, Colonel," said the general, "I can't leave half my men in\ +the wood. I beg of you, I beg of you," he repeated, "to occupy the\ +position and prepare for an attack."\ +\ +"I peg of you yourself not to mix in vot is not your business!" suddenly\ +replied the irate colonel. "If you vere in the cavalry..."\ +\ +"I am not in the cavalry, Colonel, but I am a Russian general and if you\ +are not aware of the fact..."\ +\ +"Quite avare, your excellency," suddenly shouted the colonel, touching\ +his horse and turning purple in the face. "Vill you be so goot to come\ +to ze front and see dat zis position iss no goot? I don't vish to\ +destroy my men for your pleasure!"\ +\ +"You forget yourself, Colonel. I am not considering my own pleasure and\ +I won't allow it to be said!"\ +\ +Taking the colonel's outburst as a challenge to his courage, the general\ +expanded his chest and rode, frowning, beside him to the front line, as\ +if their differences would be settled there amongst the bullets. They\ +reached the front, several bullets sped over them, and they halted in\ +silence. There was nothing fresh to be seen from the line, for from\ +where they had been before it had been evident that it was impossible\ +for cavalry to act among the bushes and broken ground, as well as that\ +the French were outflanking our left. The general and colonel looked\ +sternly and significantly at one another like two fighting cocks\ +preparing for battle, each vainly trying to detect signs of cowardice in\ +the other. Both passed the examination successfully. As there was\ +nothing to be said, and neither wished to give occasion for it to be\ +alleged that he had been the first to leave the range of fire, they\ +would have remained there for a long time testing each other's courage\ +had it not been that just then they heard the rattle of musketry and a\ +muffled shout almost behind them in the wood. The French had attacked\ +the men collecting wood in the copse. It was no longer possible for the\ +hussars to retreat with the infantry. They were cut off from the line of\ +retreat on the left by the French. However inconvenient the position, it\ +was now necessary to attack in order to cut a way through for\ +themselves.\ +\ +The squadron in which Rostov was serving had scarcely time to mount\ +before it was halted facing the enemy. Again, as at the Enns bridge,\ +there was nothing between the squadron and the enemy, and again that\ +terrible dividing line of uncertainty and fear--resembling the line\ +separating the living from the dead--lay between them. All were\ +conscious of this unseen line, and the question whether they would cross\ +it or not, and how they would cross it, agitated them all.\ +\ +The colonel rode to the front, angrily gave some reply to questions put\ +to him by the officers, and, like a man desperately insisting on having\ +his own way, gave an order. No one said anything definite, but the rumor\ +of an attack spread through the squadron. The command to form up rang\ +out and the sabers whizzed as they were drawn from their scabbards.\ +Still no one moved. The troops of the left flank, infantry and hussars\ +alike, felt that the commander did not himself know what to do, and this\ +irresolution communicated itself to the men.\ +\ +"If only they would be quick!" thought Rostov, feeling that at last the\ +time had come to experience the joy of an attack of which he had so\ +often heard from his fellow hussars.\ +\ +"Fo'ward, with God, lads!" rang out Denisov's voice. "At a twot\ +fo'ward!"\ +\ +The horses' croups began to sway in the front line. Rook pulled at the\ +reins and started of his own accord.\ +\ +Before him, on the right, Rostov saw the front lines of his hussars and\ +still farther ahead a dark line which he could not see distinctly but\ +took to be the enemy. Shots could be heard, but some way off.\ +\ +"Faster!" came the word of command, and Rostov felt Rook's flanks\ +drooping as he broke into a gallop.\ +\ +Rostov anticipated his horse's movements and became more and more\ +elated. He had noticed a solitary tree ahead of him. This tree had been\ +in the middle of the line that had seemed so terrible--and now he had\ +crossed that line and not only was there nothing terrible, but\ +everything was becoming more and more happy and animated. "Oh, how I\ +will slash at him!" thought Rostov, gripping the hilt of his saber.\ +\ +"Hur-a-a-a-ah!" came a roar of voices. "Let anyone come my way now,"\ +thought Rostov driving his spurs into Rook and letting him go at a full\ +gallop so that he outstripped the others. Ahead, the enemy was already\ +visible. Suddenly something like a birch broom seemed to sweep over the\ +squadron. Rostov raised his saber, ready to strike, but at that instant\ +the trooper Nikitenko, who was galloping ahead, shot away from him, and\ +Rostov felt as in a dream that he continued to be carried forward with\ +unnatural speed but yet stayed on the same spot. From behind him\ +Bondarchuk, an hussar he knew, jolted against him and looked angrily at\ +him. Bondarchuk's horse swerved and galloped past.\ +\ +"How is it I am not moving? I have fallen, I am killed!" Rostov asked\ +and answered at the same instant. He was alone in the middle of a field.\ +Instead of the moving horses and hussars' backs, he saw nothing before\ +him but the motionless earth and the stubble around him. There was warm\ +blood under his arm. "No, I am wounded and the horse is killed." Rook\ +tried to rise on his forelegs but fell back, pinning his rider's leg.\ +Blood was flowing from his head; he struggled but could not rise. Rostov\ +also tried to rise but fell back, his sabretache having become entangled\ +in the saddle. Where our men were, and where the French, he did not\ +know. There was no one near.\ +\ +Having disentangled his leg, he rose. "Where, on which side, was now the\ +line that had so sharply divided the two armies?" he asked himself and\ +could not answer. "Can something bad have happened to me?" he wondered\ +as he got up: and at that moment he felt that something superfluous was\ +hanging on his benumbed left arm. The wrist felt as if it were not his.\ +He examined his hand carefully, vainly trying to find blood on it. "Ah,\ +here are people coming," he thought joyfully, seeing some men running\ +toward him. "They will help me!" In front came a man wearing a strange\ +shako and a blue cloak, swarthy, sunburned, and with a hooked nose. Then\ +came two more, and many more running behind. One of them said something\ +strange, not in Russian. In among the hindmost of these men wearing\ +similar shakos was a Russian hussar. He was being held by the arms and\ +his horse was being led behind him.\ +\ +"It must be one of ours, a prisoner. Yes. Can it be that they will take\ +me too? Who are these men?" thought Rostov, scarcely believing his eyes.\ +"Can they be French?" He looked at the approaching Frenchmen, and though\ +but a moment before he had been galloping to get at them and hack them\ +to pieces, their proximity now seemed so awful that he could not believe\ +his eyes. "Who are they? Why are they running? Can they be coming at me?\ +And why? To kill me? Me whom everyone is so fond of?" He remembered his\ +mother's love for him, and his family's, and his friends', and the\ +enemy's intention to kill him seemed impossible. "But perhaps they may\ +do it!" For more than ten seconds he stood not moving from the spot or\ +realizing the situation. The foremost Frenchman, the one with the hooked\ +nose, was already so close that the expression of his face could be\ +seen. And the excited, alien face of that man, his bayonet hanging down,\ +holding his breath, and running so lightly, frightened Rostov. He seized\ +his pistol and, instead of firing it, flung it at the Frenchman and ran\ +with all his might toward the bushes. He did not now run with the\ +feeling of doubt and conflict with which he had trodden the Enns bridge,\ +but with the feeling of a hare fleeing from the hounds. One single\ +sentiment, that of fear for his young and happy life, possessed his\ +whole being. Rapidly leaping the furrows, he fled across the field with\ +the impetuosity he used to show at catchplay, now and then turning his\ +good-natured, pale, young face to look back. A shudder of terror went\ +through him: "No, better not look," he thought, but having reached the\ +bushes he glanced round once more. The French had fallen behind, and\ +just as he looked round the first man changed his run to a walk and,\ +turning, shouted something loudly to a comrade farther back. Rostov\ +paused. "No, there's some mistake," thought he. "They can't have wanted\ +to kill me." But at the same time, his left arm felt as heavy as if a\ +seventy-pound weight were tied to it. He could run no more. The\ +Frenchman also stopped and took aim. Rostov closed his eyes and stooped\ +down. One bullet and then another whistled past him. He mustered his\ +last remaining strength, took hold of his left hand with his right, and\ +reached the bushes. Behind these were some Russian sharpshooters.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XX\ +\ +The infantry regiments that had been caught unawares in the outskirts of\ +the wood ran out of it, the different companies getting mixed, and\ +retreated as a disorderly crowd. One soldier, in his fear, uttered the\ +senseless cry, "Cut off!" that is so terrible in battle, and that word\ +infected the whole crowd with a feeling of panic.\ +\ +"Surrounded! Cut off? We're lost!" shouted the fugitives.\ +\ +The moment he heard the firing and the cry from behind, the general\ +realized that something dreadful had happened to his regiment, and the\ +thought that he, an exemplary officer of many years' service who had\ +never been to blame, might be held responsible at headquarters for\ +negligence or inefficiency so staggered him that, forgetting the\ +recalcitrant cavalry colonel, his own dignity as a general, and above\ +all quite forgetting the danger and all regard for self-preservation, he\ +clutched the crupper of his saddle and, spurring his horse, galloped to\ +the regiment under a hail of bullets which fell around, but fortunately\ +missed him. His one desire was to know what was happening and at any\ +cost correct, or remedy, the mistake if he had made one, so that he, an\ +exemplary officer of twenty-two years' service, who had never been\ +censured, should not be held to blame.\ +\ +Having galloped safely through the French, he reached a field behind the\ +copse across which our men, regardless of orders, were running and\ +descending the valley. That moment of moral hesitation which decides the\ +fate of battles had arrived. Would this disorderly crowd of soldiers\ +attend to the voice of their commander, or would they, disregarding him,\ +continue their flight? Despite his desperate shouts that used to seem so\ +terrible to the soldiers, despite his furious purple countenance\ +distorted out of all likeness to his former self, and the flourishing of\ +his saber, the soldiers all continued to run, talking, firing into the\ +air, and disobeying orders. The moral hesitation which decided the fate\ +of battles was evidently culminating in a panic.\ +\ +The general had a fit of coughing as a result of shouting and of the\ +powder smoke and stopped in despair. Everything seemed lost. But at that\ +moment the French who were attacking, suddenly and without any apparent\ +reason, ran back and disappeared from the outskirts, and Russian\ +sharpshooters showed themselves in the copse. It was Timokhin's company,\ +which alone had maintained its order in the wood and, having lain in\ +ambush in a ditch, now attacked the French unexpectedly. Timokhin, armed\ +only with a sword, had rushed at the enemy with such a desperate cry and\ +such mad, drunken determination that, taken by surprise, the French had\ +thrown down their muskets and run. Dolokhov, running beside Timokhin,\ +killed a Frenchman at close quarters and was the first to seize the\ +surrendering French officer by his collar. Our fugitives returned, the\ +battalions re-formed, and the French who had nearly cut our left flank\ +in half were for the moment repulsed. Our reserve units were able to\ +join up, and the fight was at an end. The regimental commander and Major\ +Ekonomov had stopped beside a bridge, letting the retreating companies\ +pass by them, when a soldier came up and took hold of the commander's\ +stirrup, almost leaning against him. The man was wearing a bluish coat\ +of broadcloth, he had no knapsack or cap, his head was bandaged, and\ +over his shoulder a French munition pouch was slung. He had an officer's\ +sword in his hand. The soldier was pale, his blue eyes looked impudently\ +into the commander's face, and his lips were smiling. Though the\ +commander was occupied in giving instructions to Major Ekonomov, he\ +could not help taking notice of the soldier.\ +\ +"Your excellency, here are two trophies," said Dolokhov, pointing to the\ +French sword and pouch. "I have taken an officer prisoner. I stopped the\ +company." Dolokhov breathed heavily from weariness and spoke in abrupt\ +sentences. "The whole company can bear witness. I beg you will remember\ +this, your excellency!"\ +\ +"All right, all right," replied the commander, and turned to Major\ +Ekonomov.\ +\ +But Dolokhov did not go away; he untied the handkerchief around his\ +head, pulled it off, and showed the blood congealed on his hair.\ +\ +"A bayonet wound. I remained at the front. Remember, your excellency!"\ +\ +Tushin's battery had been forgotten and only at the very end of the\ +action did Prince Bagration, still hearing the cannonade in the center,\ +send his orderly staff officer, and later Prince Andrew also, to order\ +the battery to retire as quickly as possible. When the supports attached\ +to Tushin's battery had been moved away in the middle of the action by\ +someone's order, the battery had continued firing and was only not\ +captured by the French because the enemy could not surmise that anyone\ +could have the effrontery to continue firing from four quite undefended\ +guns. On the contrary, the energetic action of that battery led the\ +French to suppose that here--in the center--the main Russian forces were\ +concentrated. Twice they had attempted to attack this point, but on each\ +occasion had been driven back by grapeshot from the four isolated guns\ +on the hillock.\ +\ +Soon after Prince Bagration had left him, Tushin had succeeded in\ +setting fire to Schon Grabern.\ +\ +"Look at them scurrying! It's burning! Just see the smoke! Fine! Grand!\ +Look at the smoke, the smoke!" exclaimed the artillerymen, brightening\ +up.\ +\ +All the guns, without waiting for orders, were being fired in the\ +direction of the conflagration. As if urging each other on, the soldiers\ +cried at each shot: "Fine! That's good! Look at it... Grand!" The fire,\ +fanned by the breeze, was rapidly spreading. The French columns that had\ +advanced beyond the village went back; but as though in revenge for this\ +failure, the enemy placed ten guns to the right of the village and began\ +firing them at Tushin's battery.\ +\ +In their childlike glee, aroused by the fire and their luck in\ +successfully cannonading the French, our artillerymen only noticed this\ +battery when two balls, and then four more, fell among our guns, one\ +knocking over two horses and another tearing off a munition-wagon\ +driver's leg. Their spirits once roused were, however, not diminished,\ +but only changed character. The horses were replaced by others from a\ +reserve gun carriage, the wounded were carried away, and the four guns\ +were turned against the ten-gun battery. Tushin's companion officer had\ +been killed at the beginning of the engagement and within an hour\ +seventeen of the forty men of the guns' crews had been disabled, but the\ +artillerymen were still as merry and lively as ever. Twice they noticed\ +the French appearing below them, and then they fired grapeshot at them.\ +\ +Little Tushin, moving feebly and awkwardly, kept telling his orderly to\ +"refill my pipe for that one!" and then, scattering sparks from it, ran\ +forward shading his eyes with his small hand to look at the French.\ +\ +"Smack at 'em, lads!" he kept saying, seizing the guns by the wheels and\ +working the screws himself.\ +\ +Amid the smoke, deafened by the incessant reports which always made him\ +jump, Tushin not taking his pipe from his mouth ran from gun to gun, now\ +aiming, now counting the charges, now giving orders about replacing dead\ +or wounded horses and harnessing fresh ones, and shouting in his feeble\ +voice, so high pitched and irresolute. His face grew more and more\ +animated. Only when a man was killed or wounded did he frown and turn\ +away from the sight, shouting angrily at the men who, as is always the\ +case, hesitated about lifting the injured or dead. The soldiers, for the\ +most part handsome fellows and, as is always the case in an artillery\ +company, a head and shoulders taller and twice as broad as their\ +officer--all looked at their commander like children in an embarrassing\ +situation, and the expression on his face was invariably reflected on\ +theirs.\ +\ +Owing to the terrible uproar and the necessity for concentration and\ +activity, Tushin did not experience the slightest unpleasant sense of\ +fear, and the thought that he might be killed or badly wounded never\ +occurred to him. On the contrary, he became more and more elated. It\ +seemed to him that it was a very long time ago, almost a day, since he\ +had first seen the enemy and fired the first shot, and that the corner\ +of the field he stood on was well-known and familiar ground. Though he\ +thought of everything, considered everything, and did everything the\ +best of officers could do in his position, he was in a state akin to\ +feverish delirium or drunkenness.\ +\ +From the deafening sounds of his own guns around him, the whistle and\ +thud of the enemy's cannon balls, from the flushed and perspiring faces\ +of the crew bustling round the guns, from the sight of the blood of men\ +and horses, from the little puffs of smoke on the enemy's side (always\ +followed by a ball flying past and striking the earth, a man, a gun, a\ +horse), from the sight of all these things a fantastic world of his own\ +had taken possession of his brain and at that moment afforded him\ +pleasure. The enemy's guns were in his fancy not guns but pipes from\ +which occasional puffs were blown by an invisible smoker.\ +\ +"There... he's puffing again," muttered Tushin to himself, as a small\ +cloud rose from the hill and was borne in a streak to the left by the\ +wind.\ +\ +"Now look out for the ball... we'll throw it back."\ +\ +"What do you want, your honor?" asked an artilleryman, standing close\ +by, who heard him muttering.\ +\ +"Nothing... only a shell..." he answered.\ +\ +"Come along, our Matvevna!" he said to himself. "Matvevna" * was the\ +name his fancy gave to the farthest gun of the battery, which was large\ +and of an old pattern. The French swarming round their guns seemed to\ +him like ants. In that world, the handsome drunkard Number One of the\ +second gun's crew was "uncle"; Tushin looked at him more often than at\ +anyone else and took delight in his every movement. The sound of\ +musketry at the foot of the hill, now diminishing, now increasing,\ +seemed like someone's breathing. He listened intently to the ebb and\ +flow of these sounds.\ +\ +\ +* Daughter of Matthew.\ +\ +"Ah! Breathing again, breathing!" he muttered to himself.\ +\ +He imagined himself as an enormously tall, powerful man who was throwing\ +cannon balls at the French with both hands.\ +\ +"Now then, Matvevna, dear old lady, don't let me down!" he was saying as\ +he moved from the gun, when a strange, unfamiliar voice called above his\ +head: "Captain Tushin! Captain!"\ +\ +Tushin turned round in dismay. It was the staff officer who had turned\ +him out of the booth at Grunth. He was shouting in a gasping voice:\ +\ +"Are you mad? You have twice been ordered to retreat, and you..."\ +\ +"Why are they down on me?" thought Tushin, looking in alarm at his\ +superior.\ +\ +"I... don't..." he muttered, holding up two fingers to his cap. "I..."\ +\ +But the staff officer did not finish what he wanted to say. A cannon\ +ball, flying close to him, caused him to duck and bend over his horse.\ +He paused, and just as he was about to say something more, another ball\ +stopped him. He turned his horse and galloped off.\ +\ +"Retire! All to retire!" he shouted from a distance.\ +\ +The soldiers laughed. A moment later, an adjutant arrived with the same\ +order.\ +\ +It was Prince Andrew. The first thing he saw on riding up to the space\ +where Tushin's guns were stationed was an unharnessed horse with a\ +broken leg, that lay screaming piteously beside the harnessed horses.\ +Blood was gushing from its leg as from a spring. Among the limbers lay\ +several dead men. One ball after another passed over as he approached\ +and he felt a nervous shudder run down his spine. But the mere thought\ +of being afraid roused him again. "I cannot be afraid," thought he, and\ +dismounted slowly among the guns. He delivered the order and did not\ +leave the battery. He decided to have the guns removed from their\ +positions and withdrawn in his presence. Together with Tushin, stepping\ +across the bodies and under a terrible fire from the French, he attended\ +to the removal of the guns.\ +\ +"A staff officer was here a minute ago, but skipped off," said an\ +artilleryman to Prince Andrew. "Not like your honor!"\ +\ +Prince Andrew said nothing to Tushin. They were both so busy as to seem\ +not to notice one another. When having limbered up the only two cannon\ +that remained uninjured out of the four, they began moving down the hill\ +(one shattered gun and one unicorn were left behind), Prince Andrew rode\ +up to Tushin.\ +\ +"Well, till we meet again..." he said, holding out his hand to Tushin.\ +\ +"Good-bye, my dear fellow," said Tushin. "Dear soul! Good-bye, my dear\ +fellow!" and for some unknown reason tears suddenly filled his eyes.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XXI\ +\ +The wind had fallen and black clouds, merging with the powder smoke,\ +hung low over the field of battle on the horizon. It was growing dark\ +and the glow of two conflagrations was the more conspicuous. The\ +cannonade was dying down, but the rattle of musketry behind and on the\ +right sounded oftener and nearer. As soon as Tushin with his guns,\ +continually driving round or coming upon wounded men, was out of range\ +of fire and had descended into the dip, he was met by some of the staff,\ +among them the staff officer and Zherkov, who had been twice sent to\ +Tushin's battery but had never reached it. Interrupting one another,\ +they all gave, and transmitted, orders as to how to proceed,\ +reprimanding and reproaching him. Tushin gave no orders, and, silently--\ +fearing to speak because at every word he felt ready to weep without\ +knowing why--rode behind on his artillery nag. Though the orders were to\ +abandon the wounded, many of them dragged themselves after troops and\ +begged for seats on the gun carriages. The jaunty infantry officer who\ +just before the battle had rushed out of Tushin's wattle shed was laid,\ +with a bullet in his stomach, on "Matvevna's" carriage. At the foot of\ +the hill, a pale hussar cadet, supporting one hand with the other, came\ +up to Tushin and asked for a seat.\ +\ +"Captain, for God's sake! I've hurt my arm," he said timidly. "For God's\ +sake... I can't walk. For God's sake!"\ +\ +It was plain that this cadet had already repeatedly asked for a lift and\ +been refused. He asked in a hesitating, piteous voice.\ +\ +"Tell them to give me a seat, for God's sake!"\ +\ +"Give him a seat," said Tushin. "Lay a cloak for him to sit on, lad," he\ +said, addressing his favorite soldier. "And where is the wounded\ +officer?"\ +\ +"He has been set down. He died," replied someone.\ +\ +"Help him up. Sit down, dear fellow, sit down! Spread out the cloak,\ +Antonov."\ +\ +The cadet was Rostov. With one hand he supported the other; he was pale\ +and his jaw trembled, shivering feverishly. He was placed on "Matvevna,"\ +the gun from which they had removed the dead officer. The cloak they\ +spread under him was wet with blood which stained his breeches and arm.\ +\ +"What, are you wounded, my lad?" said Tushin, approaching the gun on\ +which Rostov sat.\ +\ +"No, it's a sprain."\ +\ +"Then what is this blood on the gun carriage?" inquired Tushin.\ +\ +"It was the officer, your honor, stained it," answered the artilleryman,\ +wiping away the blood with his coat sleeve, as if apologizing for the\ +state of his gun.\ +\ +It was all that they could do to get the guns up the rise aided by the\ +infantry, and having reached the village of Gruntersdorf they halted. It\ +had grown so dark that one could not distinguish the uniforms ten paces\ +off, and the firing had begun to subside. Suddenly, near by on the\ +right, shouting and firing were again heard. Flashes of shot gleamed in\ +the darkness. This was the last French attack and was met by soldiers\ +who had sheltered in the village houses. They all rushed out of the\ +village again, but Tushin's guns could not move, and the artillerymen,\ +Tushin, and the cadet exchanged silent glances as they awaited their\ +fate. The firing died down and soldiers, talking eagerly, streamed out\ +of a side street.\ +\ +"Not hurt, Petrov?" asked one.\ +\ +"We've given it 'em hot, mate! They won't make another push now," said\ +another.\ +\ +"You couldn't see a thing. How they shot at their own fellows! Nothing\ +could be seen. Pitch-dark, brother! Isn't there something to drink?"\ +\ +The French had been repulsed for the last time. And again and again in\ +the complete darkness Tushin's guns moved forward, surrounded by the\ +humming infantry as by a frame.\ +\ +In the darkness, it seemed as though a gloomy unseen river was flowing\ +always in one direction, humming with whispers and talk and the sound of\ +hoofs and wheels. Amid the general rumble, the groans and voices of the\ +wounded were more distinctly heard than any other sound in the darkness\ +of the night. The gloom that enveloped the army was filled with their\ +groans, which seemed to melt into one with the darkness of the night.\ +After a while the moving mass became agitated, someone rode past on a\ +white horse followed by his suite, and said something in passing: "What\ +did he say? Where to, now? Halt, is it? Did he thank us?" came eager\ +questions from all sides. The whole moving mass began pressing closer\ +together and a report spread that they were ordered to halt: evidently\ +those in front had halted. All remained where they were in the middle of\ +the muddy road.\ +\ +Fires were lighted and the talk became more audible. Captain Tushin,\ +having given orders to his company, sent a soldier to find a dressing\ +station or a doctor for the cadet, and sat down by a bonfire the\ +soldiers had kindled on the road. Rostov, too, dragged himself to the\ +fire. From pain, cold, and damp, a feverish shivering shook his whole\ +body. Drowsiness was irresistibly mastering him, but he kept awake by an\ +excruciating pain in his arm, for which he could find no satisfactory\ +position. He kept closing his eyes and then again looking at the fire,\ +which seemed to him dazzlingly red, and at the feeble, round-shouldered\ +figure of Tushin who was sitting cross-legged like a Turk beside him.\ +Tushin's large, kind, intelligent eyes were fixed with sympathy and\ +commiseration on Rostov, who saw that Tushin with his whole heart wished\ +to help him but could not.\ +\ +From all sides were heard the footsteps and talk of the infantry, who\ +were walking, driving past, and settling down all around. The sound of\ +voices, the tramping feet, the horses' hoofs moving in mud, the\ +crackling of wood fires near and afar, merged into one tremulous rumble.\ +\ +It was no longer, as before, a dark, unseen river flowing through the\ +gloom, but a dark sea swelling and gradually subsiding after a storm.\ +Rostov looked at and listened listlessly to what passed before and\ +around him. An infantryman came to the fire, squatted on his heels, held\ +his hands to the blaze, and turned away his face.\ +\ +"You don't mind your honor?" he asked Tushin. "I've lost my company,\ +your honor. I don't know where... such bad luck!"\ +\ +With the soldier, an infantry officer with a bandaged cheek came up to\ +the bonfire, and addressing Tushin asked him to have the guns moved a\ +trifle to let a wagon go past. After he had gone, two soldiers rushed to\ +the campfire. They were quarreling and fighting desperately, each trying\ +to snatch from the other a boot they were both holding on to.\ +\ +"You picked it up?... I dare say! You're very smart!" one of them\ +shouted hoarsely.\ +\ +Then a thin, pale soldier, his neck bandaged with a bloodstained leg\ +band, came up and in angry tones asked the artillerymen for water.\ +\ +"Must one die like a dog?" said he.\ +\ +Tushin told them to give the man some water. Then a cheerful soldier ran\ +up, begging a little fire for the infantry.\ +\ +"A nice little hot torch for the infantry! Good luck to you, fellow\ +countrymen. Thanks for the fire--we'll return it with interest," said\ +he, carrying away into the darkness a glowing stick.\ +\ +Next came four soldiers, carrying something heavy on a cloak, and passed\ +by the fire. One of them stumbled.\ +\ +"Who the devil has put the logs on the road?" snarled he.\ +\ +"He's dead--why carry him?" said another.\ +\ +"Shut up!"\ +\ +And they disappeared into the darkness with their load.\ +\ +"Still aching?" Tushin asked Rostov in a whisper.\ +\ +"Yes."\ +\ +"Your honor, you're wanted by the general. He is in the hut here," said\ +a gunner, coming up to Tushin.\ +\ +"Coming, friend."\ +\ +Tushin rose and, buttoning his greatcoat and pulling it straight, walked\ +away from the fire.\ +\ +Not far from the artillery campfire, in a hut that had been prepared for\ +him, Prince Bagration sat at dinner, talking with some commanding\ +officers who had gathered at his quarters. The little old man with the\ +half-closed eyes was there greedily gnawing a mutton bone, and the\ +general who had served blamelessly for twenty-two years, flushed by a\ +glass of vodka and the dinner; and the staff officer with the signet\ +ring, and Zherkov, uneasily glancing at them all, and Prince Andrew,\ +pale, with compressed lips and feverishly glittering eyes.\ +\ +In a corner of the hut stood a standard captured from the French, and\ +the accountant with the naive face was feeling its texture, shaking his\ +head in perplexity--perhaps because the banner really interested him,\ +perhaps because it was hard for him, hungry as he was, to look on at a\ +dinner where there was no place for him. In the next hut there was a\ +French colonel who had been taken prisoner by our dragoons. Our officers\ +were flocking in to look at him. Prince Bagration was thanking the\ +individual commanders and inquiring into details of the action and our\ +losses. The general whose regiment had been inspected at Braunau was\ +informing the prince that as soon as the action began he had withdrawn\ +from the wood, mustered the men who were woodcutting, and, allowing the\ +French to pass him, had made a bayonet charge with two battalions and\ +had broken up the French troops.\ +\ +"When I saw, your excellency, that their first battalion was\ +disorganized, I stopped in the road and thought: 'I'll let them come on\ +and will meet them with the fire of the whole battalion'--and that's\ +what I did."\ +\ +The general had so wished to do this and was so sorry he had not managed\ +to do it that it seemed to him as if it had really happened. Perhaps it\ +might really have been so? Could one possibly make out amid all that\ +confusion what did or did not happen?\ +\ +"By the way, your excellency, I should inform you," he continued--\ +remembering Dolokhov's conversation with Kutuzov and his last interview\ +with the gentleman-ranker--"that Private Dolokhov, who was reduced to\ +the ranks, took a French officer prisoner in my presence and\ +particularly distinguished himself."\ +\ +"I saw the Pavlograd hussars attack there, your excellency," chimed in\ +Zherkov, looking uneasily around. He had not seen the hussars all that\ +day, but had heard about them from an infantry officer. "They broke up\ +two squares, your excellency."\ +\ +Several of those present smiled at Zherkov's words, expecting one of his\ +usual jokes, but noticing that what he was saying redounded to the glory\ +of our arms and of the day's work, they assumed a serious expression,\ +though many of them knew that what he was saying was a lie devoid of any\ +foundation. Prince Bagration turned to the old colonel:\ +\ +"Gentlemen, I thank you all; all arms have behaved heroically: infantry,\ +cavalry, and artillery. How was it that two guns were abandoned in the\ +center?" he inquired, searching with his eyes for someone. (Prince\ +Bagration did not ask about the guns on the left flank; he knew that all\ +the guns there had been abandoned at the very beginning of the action.)\ +"I think I sent you?" he added, turning to the staff officer on duty.\ +\ +"One was damaged," answered the staff officer, "and the other I can't\ +understand. I was there all the time giving orders and had only just\ +left.... It is true that it was hot there," he added, modestly.\ +\ +Someone mentioned that Captain Tushin was bivouacking close to the\ +village and had already been sent for.\ +\ +"Oh, but you were there?" said Prince Bagration, addressing Prince\ +Andrew.\ +\ +"Of course, we only just missed one another," said the staff officer,\ +with a smile to Bolkonski.\ +\ +"I had not the pleasure of seeing you," said Prince Andrew, coldly and\ +abruptly.\ +\ +All were silent. Tushin appeared at the threshold and made his way\ +timidly from behind the backs of the generals. As he stepped past the\ +generals in the crowded hut, feeling embarrassed as he always was by the\ +sight of his superiors, he did not notice the staff of the banner and\ +stumbled over it. Several of those present laughed.\ +\ +"How was it a gun was abandoned?" asked Bagration, frowning, not so much\ +at the captain as at those who were laughing, among whom Zherkov laughed\ +loudest.\ +\ +Only now, when he was confronted by the stern authorities, did his guilt\ +and the disgrace of having lost two guns and yet remaining alive present\ +themselves to Tushin in all their horror. He had been so excited that he\ +had not thought about it until that moment. The officers' laughter\ +confused him still more. He stood before Bagration with his lower jaw\ +trembling and was hardly able to mutter: "I don't know... your\ +excellency... I had no men... your excellency."\ +\ +"You might have taken some from the covering troops."\ +\ +Tushin did not say that there were no covering troops, though that was\ +perfectly true. He was afraid of getting some other officer into\ +trouble, and silently fixed his eyes on Bagration as a schoolboy who has\ +blundered looks at an examiner.\ +\ +The silence lasted some time. Prince Bagration, apparently not wishing\ +to be severe, found nothing to say; the others did not venture to\ +intervene. Prince Andrew looked at Tushin from under his brows and his\ +fingers twitched nervously.\ +\ +"Your excellency!" Prince Andrew broke the silence with his abrupt\ +voice, "you were pleased to send me to Captain Tushin's battery. I went\ +there and found two thirds of the men and horses knocked out, two guns\ +smashed, and no supports at all."\ +\ +Prince Bagration and Tushin looked with equal intentness at Bolkonski,\ +who spoke with suppressed agitation.\ +\ +"And, if your excellency will allow me to express my opinion," he\ +continued, "we owe today's success chiefly to the action of that battery\ +and the heroic endurance of Captain Tushin and his company," and without\ +awaiting a reply, Prince Andrew rose and left the table.\ +\ +Prince Bagration looked at Tushin, evidently reluctant to show distrust\ +in Bolkonski's emphatic opinion yet not feeling able fully to credit it,\ +bent his head, and told Tushin that he could go. Prince Andrew went out\ +with him.\ +\ +"Thank you; you saved me, my dear fellow!" said Tushin.\ +\ +Prince Andrew gave him a look, but said nothing and went away. He felt\ +sad and depressed. It was all so strange, so unlike what he had hoped.\ +\ +"Who are they? Why are they here? What do they want? And when will all\ +this end?" thought Rostov, looking at the changing shadows before him.\ +The pain in his arm became more and more intense. Irresistible\ +drowsiness overpowered him, red rings danced before his eyes, and the\ +impression of those voices and faces and a sense of loneliness merged\ +with the physical pain. It was they, these soldiers--wounded and\ +unwounded--it was they who were crushing, weighing down, and twisting\ +the sinews and scorching the flesh of his sprained arm and shoulder. To\ +rid himself of them he closed his eyes.\ +\ +For a moment he dozed, but in that short interval innumerable things\ +appeared to him in a dream: his mother and her large white hand, Sonya's\ +thin little shoulders, Natasha's eyes and laughter, Denisov with his\ +voice and mustache, and Telyanin and all that affair with Telyanin and\ +Bogdanich. That affair was the same thing as this soldier with the harsh\ +voice, and it was that affair and this soldier that were so agonizingly,\ +incessantly pulling and pressing his arm and always dragging it in one\ +direction. He tried to get away from them, but they would not for an\ +instant let his shoulder move a hair's breadth. It would not ache--it\ +would be well--if only they did not pull it, but it was impossible to\ +get rid of them.\ +\ +He opened his eyes and looked up. The black canopy of night hung less\ +than a yard above the glow of the charcoal. Flakes of falling snow were\ +fluttering in that light. Tushin had not returned, the doctor had not\ +come. He was alone now, except for a soldier who was sitting naked at\ +the other side of the fire, warming his thin yellow body.\ +\ +"Nobody wants me!" thought Rostov. "There is no one to help me or pity\ +me. Yet I was once at home, strong, happy, and loved." He sighed and,\ +doing so, groaned involuntarily.\ +\ +"Eh, is anything hurting you?" asked the soldier, shaking his shirt out\ +over the fire, and not waiting for an answer he gave a grunt and added:\ +"What a lot of men have been crippled today--frightful!"\ +\ +Rostov did not listen to the soldier. He looked at the snowflakes\ +fluttering above the fire and remembered a Russian winter at his warm,\ +bright home, his fluffy fur coat, his quickly gliding sleigh, his\ +healthy body, and all the affection and care of his family. "And why did\ +I come here?" he wondered.\ +\ +Next day the French army did not renew their attack, and the remnant of\ +Bagration's detachment was reunited to Kutuzov's army.\ +\ +BOOK THREE: 1805\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER I\ +\ +Prince Vasili was not a man who deliberately thought out his plans.\ +Still less did he think of injuring anyone for his own advantage. He was\ +merely a man of the world who had got on and to whom getting on had\ +become a habit. Schemes and devices for which he never rightly accounted\ +to himself, but which formed the whole interest of his life, were\ +constantly shaping themselves in his mind, arising from the\ +circumstances and persons he met. Of these plans he had not merely one\ +or two in his head but dozens, some only beginning to form themselves,\ +some approaching achievement, and some in course of disintegration. He\ +did not, for instance, say to himself: "This man now has influence, I\ +must gain his confidence and friendship and through him obtain a special\ +grant." Nor did he say to himself: "Pierre is a rich man, I must entice\ +him to marry my daughter and lend me the forty thousand rubles I need."\ +But when he came across a man of position his instinct immediately told\ +him that this man could be useful, and without any premeditation Prince\ +Vasili took the first opportunity to gain his confidence, flatter him,\ +become intimate with him, and finally make his request.\ +\ +He had Pierre at hand in Moscow and procured for him an appointment as\ +Gentleman of the Bedchamber, which at that time conferred the status of\ +Councilor of State, and insisted on the young man accompanying him to\ +Petersburg and staying at his house. With apparent absent-mindedness,\ +yet with unhesitating assurance that he was doing the right thing,\ +Prince Vasili did everything to get Pierre to marry his daughter. Had he\ +thought out his plans beforehand he could not have been so natural and\ +shown such unaffected familiarity in intercourse with everybody both\ +above and below him in social standing. Something always drew him toward\ +those richer and more powerful than himself and he had rare skill in\ +seizing the most opportune moment for making use of people.\ +\ +Pierre, on unexpectedly becoming Count Bezukhov and a rich man, felt\ +himself after his recent loneliness and freedom from cares so beset and\ +preoccupied that only in bed was he able to be by himself. He had to\ +sign papers, to present himself at government offices, the purpose of\ +which was not clear to him, to question his chief steward, to visit his\ +estate near Moscow, and to receive many people who formerly did not even\ +wish to know of his existence but would now have been offended and\ +grieved had he chosen not to see them. These different people--\ +businessmen, relations, and acquaintances alike--were all disposed to\ +treat the young heir in the most friendly and flattering manner: they\ +were all evidently firmly convinced of Pierre's noble qualities. He was\ +always hearing such words as: "With your remarkable kindness," or, "With\ +your excellent heart," "You are yourself so honorable Count," or, "Were\ +he as clever as you," and so on, till he began sincerely to believe in\ +his own exceptional kindness and extraordinary intelligence, the more so\ +as in the depth of his heart it had always seemed to him that he really\ +was very kind and intelligent. Even people who had formerly been\ +spiteful toward him and evidently unfriendly now became gentle and\ +affectionate. The angry eldest princess, with the long waist and hair\ +plastered down like a doll's, had come into Pierre's room after the\ +funeral. With drooping eyes and frequent blushes she told him she was\ +very sorry about their past misunderstandings and did not now feel she\ +had a right to ask him for anything, except only for permission, after\ +the blow she had received, to remain for a few weeks longer in the house\ +she so loved and where she had sacrificed so much. She could not refrain\ +from weeping at these words. Touched that this statuesque princess could\ +so change, Pierre took her hand and begged her forgiveness, without\ +knowing what for. From that day the eldest princess quite changed toward\ +Pierre and began knitting a striped scarf for him.\ +\ +"Do this for my sake, mon cher; after all, she had to put up with a\ +great deal from the deceased," said Prince Vasili to him, handing him a\ +deed to sign for the princess' benefit.\ +\ +Prince Vasili had come to the conclusion that it was necessary to throw\ +this bone--a bill for thirty thousand rubles--to the poor princess that\ +it might not occur to her to speak of his share in the affair of the\ +inlaid portfolio. Pierre signed the deed and after that the princess\ +grew still kinder. The younger sisters also became affectionate to him,\ +especially the youngest, the pretty one with the mole, who often made\ +him feel confused by her smiles and her own confusion when meeting him.\ +\ +It seemed so natural to Pierre that everyone should like him, and it\ +would have seemed so unnatural had anyone disliked him, that he could\ +not but believe in the sincerity of those around him. Besides, he had no\ +time to ask himself whether these people were sincere or not. He was\ +always busy and always felt in a state of mild and cheerful\ +intoxication. He felt as though he were the center of some important and\ +general movement; that something was constantly expected of him, that if\ +he did not do it he would grieve and disappoint many people, but if he\ +did this and that, all would be well; and he did what was demanded of\ +him, but still that happy result always remained in the future.\ +\ +More than anyone else, Prince Vasili took possession of Pierre's affairs\ +and of Pierre himself in those early days. From the death of Count\ +Bezukhov he did not let go his hold of the lad. He had the air of a man\ +oppressed by business, weary and suffering, who yet would not, for\ +pity's sake, leave this helpless youth who, after all, was the son of\ +his old friend and the possessor of such enormous wealth, to the caprice\ +of fate and the designs of rogues. During the few days he spent in\ +Moscow after the death of Count Bezukhov, he would call Pierre, or go to\ +him himself, and tell him what ought to be done in a tone of weariness\ +and assurance, as if he were adding every time: "You know I am\ +overwhelmed with business and it is purely out of charity that I trouble\ +myself about you, and you also know quite well that what I propose is\ +the only thing possible."\ +\ +"Well, my dear fellow, tomorrow we are off at last," said Prince Vasili\ +one day, closing his eyes and fingering Pierre's elbow, speaking as if\ +he were saying something which had long since been agreed upon and could\ +not now be altered. "We start tomorrow and I'm giving you a place in my\ +carriage. I am very glad. All our important business here is now\ +settled, and I ought to have been off long ago. Here is something I have\ +received from the chancellor. I asked him for you, and you have been\ +entered in the diplomatic corps and made a Gentleman of the Bedchamber.\ +The diplomatic career now lies open before you."\ +\ +Notwithstanding the tone of wearied assurance with which these words\ +were pronounced, Pierre, who had so long been considering his career,\ +wished to make some suggestion. But Prince Vasili interrupted him in the\ +special deep cooing tone, precluding the possibility of interrupting his\ +speech, which he used in extreme cases when special persuasion was\ +needed.\ +\ +"Mais, mon cher, I did this for my own sake, to satisfy my conscience,\ +and there is nothing to thank me for. No one has ever complained yet of\ +being too much loved; and besides, you are free, you could throw it up\ +tomorrow. But you will see everything for yourself when you get to\ +Petersburg. It is high time for you to get away from these terrible\ +recollections." Prince Vasili sighed. "Yes, yes, my boy. And my valet\ +can go in your carriage. Ah! I was nearly forgetting," he added. "You\ +know, mon cher, your father and I had some accounts to settle, so I have\ +received what was due from the Ryazan estate and will keep it; you won't\ +require it. We'll go into the accounts later."\ +\ +By "what was due from the Ryazan estate" Prince Vasili meant several\ +thousand rubles quitrent received from Pierre's peasants, which the\ +prince had retained for himself.\ +\ +In Petersburg, as in Moscow, Pierre found the same atmosphere of\ +gentleness and affection. He could not refuse the post, or rather the\ +rank (for he did nothing), that Prince Vasili had procured for him, and\ +acquaintances, invitations, and social occupations were so numerous\ +that, even more than in Moscow, he felt a sense of bewilderment, bustle,\ +and continual expectation of some good, always in front of him but never\ +attained.\ +\ +Of his former bachelor acquaintances many were no longer in Petersburg.\ +The Guards had gone to the front; Dolokhov had been reduced to the\ +ranks; Anatole was in the army somewhere in the provinces; Prince Andrew\ +was abroad; so Pierre had not the opportunity to spend his nights as he\ +used to like to spend them, or to open his mind by intimate talks with a\ +friend older than himself and whom he respected. His whole time was\ +taken up with dinners and balls and was spent chiefly at Prince Vasili's\ +house in the company of the stout princess, his wife, and his beautiful\ +daughter Helene.\ +\ +Like the others, Anna Pavlovna Scherer showed Pierre the change of\ +attitude toward him that had taken place in society.\ +\ +Formerly in Anna Pavlovna's presence, Pierre had always felt that what\ +he was saying was out of place, tactless and unsuitable, that remarks\ +which seemed to him clever while they formed in his mind became foolish\ +as soon as he uttered them, while on the contrary Hippolyte's stupidest\ +remarks came out clever and apt. Now everything Pierre said was\ +charmant. Even if Anna Pavlovna did not say so, he could see that she\ +wished to and only refrained out of regard for his modesty.\ +\ +In the beginning of the winter of 1805-6 Pierre received one of Anna\ +Pavlovna's usual pink notes with an invitation to which was added: "You\ +will find the beautiful Helene here, whom it is always delightful to\ +see."\ +\ +When he read that sentence, Pierre felt for the first time that some\ +link which other people recognized had grown up between himself and\ +Helene, and that thought both alarmed him, as if some obligation were\ +being imposed on him which he could not fulfill, and pleased him as an\ +entertaining supposition.\ +\ +Anna Pavlovna's "At Home" was like the former one, only the novelty she\ +offered her guests this time was not Mortemart, but a diplomatist fresh\ +from Berlin with the very latest details of the Emperor Alexander's\ +visit to Potsdam, and of how the two august friends had pledged\ +themselves in an indissoluble alliance to uphold the cause of justice\ +against the enemy of the human race. Anna Pavlovna received Pierre with\ +a shade of melancholy, evidently relating to the young man's recent loss\ +by the death of Count Bezukhov (everyone constantly considered it a duty\ +to assure Pierre that he was greatly afflicted by the death of the\ +father he had hardly known), and her melancholy was just like the august\ +melancholy she showed at the mention of her most august Majesty the\ +Empress Marya Fedorovna. Pierre felt flattered by this. Anna Pavlovna\ +arranged the different groups in her drawing room with her habitual\ +skill. The large group, in which were Prince Vasili and the generals,\ +had the benefit of the diplomat. Another group was at the tea table.\ +Pierre wished to join the former, but Anna Pavlovna--who was in the\ +excited condition of a commander on a battlefield to whom thousands of\ +new and brilliant ideas occur which there is hardly time to put in\ +action--seeing Pierre, touched his sleeve with her finger, saying:\ +\ +"Wait a bit, I have something in view for you this evening." (She\ +glanced at Helene and smiled at her.) "My dear Helene, be charitable to\ +my poor aunt who adores you. Go and keep her company for ten minutes.\ +And that it will not be too dull, here is the dear count who will not\ +refuse to accompany you."\ +\ +The beauty went to the aunt, but Anna Pavlovna detained Pierre, looking\ +as if she had to give some final necessary instructions.\ +\ +"Isn't she exquisite?" she said to Pierre, pointing to the stately\ +beauty as she glided away. "And how she carries herself! For so young a\ +girl, such tact, such masterly perfection of manner! It comes from her\ +heart. Happy the man who wins her! With her the least worldly of men\ +would occupy a most brilliant position in society. Don't you think so? I\ +only wanted to know your opinion," and Anna Pavlovna let Pierre go.\ +\ +Pierre, in reply, sincerely agreed with her as to Helene's perfection of\ +manner. If he ever thought of Helene, it was just of her beauty and her\ +remarkable skill in appearing silently dignified in society.\ +\ +The old aunt received the two young people in her corner, but seemed\ +desirous of hiding her adoration for Helene and inclined rather to show\ +her fear of Anna Pavlovna. She looked at her niece, as if inquiring what\ +she was to do with these people. On leaving them, Anna Pavlovna again\ +touched Pierre's sleeve, saying: "I hope you won't say that it is dull\ +in my house again," and she glanced at Helene.\ +\ +Helene smiled, with a look implying that she did not admit the\ +possibility of anyone seeing her without being enchanted. The aunt\ +coughed, swallowed, and said in French that she was very pleased to see\ +Helene, then she turned to Pierre with the same words of welcome and the\ +same look. In the middle of a dull and halting conversation, Helene\ +turned to Pierre with the beautiful bright smile that she gave to\ +everyone. Pierre was so used to that smile, and it had so little meaning\ +for him, that he paid no attention to it. The aunt was just speaking of\ +a collection of snuffboxes that had belonged to Pierre's father, Count\ +Bezukhov, and showed them her own box. Princess Helene asked to see the\ +portrait of the aunt's husband on the box lid.\ +\ +"That is probably the work of Vinesse," said Pierre, mentioning a\ +celebrated miniaturist, and he leaned over the table to take the\ +snuffbox while trying to hear what was being said at the other table.\ +\ +He half rose, meaning to go round, but the aunt handed him the snuffbox,\ +passing it across Helene's back. Helene stooped forward to make room,\ +and looked round with a smile. She was, as always at evening parties,\ +wearing a dress such as was then fashionable, cut very low at front and\ +back. Her bust, which had always seemed like marble to Pierre, was so\ +close to him that his shortsighted eyes could not but perceive the\ +living charm of her neck and shoulders, so near to his lips that he need\ +only have bent his head a little to have touched them. He was conscious\ +of the warmth of her body, the scent of perfume, and the creaking of her\ +corset as she moved. He did not see her marble beauty forming a complete\ +whole with her dress, but all the charm of her body only covered by her\ +garments. And having once seen this he could not help being aware of it,\ +just as we cannot renew an illusion we have once seen through.\ +\ +"So you have never noticed before how beautiful I am?" Helene seemed to\ +say. "You had not noticed that I am a woman? Yes, I am a woman who may\ +belong to anyone--to you too," said her glance. And at that moment\ +Pierre felt that Helene not only could, but must, be his wife, and that\ +it could not be otherwise.\ +\ +He knew this at that moment as surely as if he had been standing at the\ +altar with her. How and when this would be he did not know, he did not\ +even know if it would be a good thing (he even felt, he knew not why,\ +that it would be a bad thing), but he knew it would happen.\ +\ +Pierre dropped his eyes, lifted them again, and wished once more to see\ +her as a distant beauty far removed from him, as he had seen her every\ +day until then, but he could no longer do it. He could not, any more\ +than a man who has been looking at a tuft of steppe grass through the\ +mist and taking it for a tree can again take it for a tree after he has\ +once recognized it to be a tuft of grass. She was terribly close to him.\ +She already had power over him, and between them there was no longer any\ +barrier except the barrier of his own will.\ +\ +"Well, I will leave you in your little corner," came Anna Pavlovna's\ +voice, "I see you are all right there."\ +\ +And Pierre, anxiously trying to remember whether he had done anything\ +reprehensible, looked round with a blush. It seemed to him that everyone\ +knew what had happened to him as he knew it himself.\ +\ +A little later when he went up to the large circle, Anna Pavlovna said\ +to him: "I hear you are refitting your Petersburg house?"\ +\ +This was true. The architect had told him that it was necessary, and\ +Pierre, without knowing why, was having his enormous Petersburg house\ +done up.\ +\ +"That's a good thing, but don't move from Prince Vasili's. It is good to\ +have a friend like the prince," she said, smiling at Prince Vasili. "I\ +know something about that. Don't I? And you are still so young. You need\ +advice. Don't be angry with me for exercising an old woman's privilege."\ +\ +She paused, as women always do, expecting something after they have\ +mentioned their age. "If you marry it will be a different thing," she\ +continued, uniting them both in one glance. Pierre did not look at\ +Helene nor she at him. But she was just as terribly close to him. He\ +muttered something and colored.\ +\ +When he got home he could not sleep for a long time for thinking of what\ +had happened. What had happened? Nothing. He had merely understood that\ +the woman he had known as a child, of whom when her beauty was mentioned\ +he had said absent-mindedly: "Yes, she's good looking," he had\ +understood that this woman might belong to him.\ +\ +"But she's stupid. I have myself said she is stupid," he thought. "There\ +is something nasty, something wrong, in the feeling she excites in me. I\ +have been told that her brother Anatole was in love with her and she\ +with him, that there was quite a scandal and that that's why he was sent\ +away. Hippolyte is her brother... Prince Vasili is her father... It's\ +bad...." he reflected, but while he was thinking this (the reflection\ +was still incomplete), he caught himself smiling and was conscious that\ +another line of thought had sprung up, and while thinking of her\ +worthlessness he was also dreaming of how she would be his wife, how she\ +would love him become quite different, and how all he had thought and\ +heard of her might be false. And he again saw her not as the daughter of\ +Prince Vasili, but visualized her whole body only veiled by its gray\ +dress. "But no! Why did this thought never occur to me before?" and\ +again he told himself that it was impossible, that there would be\ +something unnatural, and as it seemed to him dishonorable, in this\ +marriage. He recalled her former words and looks and the words and looks\ +of those who had seen them together. He recalled Anna Pavlovna's words\ +and looks when she spoke to him about his house, recalled thousands of\ +such hints from Prince Vasili and others, and was seized by terror lest\ +he had already, in some way, bound himself to do something that was\ +evidently wrong and that he ought not to do. But at the very time he was\ +expressing this conviction to himself, in another part of his mind her\ +image rose in all its womanly beauty.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER II\ +\ +In November, 1805, Prince Vasili had to go on a tour of inspection in\ +four different provinces. He had arranged this for himself so as to\ +visit his neglected estates at the same time and pick up his son Anatole\ +where his regiment was stationed, and take him to visit Prince Nicholas\ +Bolkonski in order to arrange a match for him with the daughter of that\ +rich old man. But before leaving home and undertaking these new affairs,\ +Prince Vasili had to settle matters with Pierre, who, it is true, had\ +latterly spent whole days at home, that is, in Prince Vasili's house\ +where he was staying, and had been absurd, excited, and foolish in\ +Helene's presence (as a lover should be), but had not yet proposed to\ +her.\ +\ +"This is all very fine, but things must be settled," said Prince Vasili\ +to himself, with a sorrowful sigh, one morning, feeling that Pierre who\ +was under such obligations to him ("But never mind that") was not\ +behaving very well in this matter. "Youth, frivolity... well, God be\ +with him," thought he, relishing his own goodness of heart, "but it must\ +be brought to a head. The day after tomorrow will be Lelya's name day. I\ +will invite two or three people, and if he does not understand what he\ +ought to do then it will be my affair--yes, my affair. I am her father."\ +\ +Six weeks after Anna Pavlovna's "At Home" and after the sleepless night\ +when he had decided that to marry Helene would be a calamity and that he\ +ought to avoid her and go away, Pierre, despite that decision, had not\ +left Prince Vasili's and felt with terror that in people's eyes he was\ +every day more and more connected with her, that it was impossible for\ +him to return to his former conception of her, that he could not break\ +away from her, and that though it would be a terrible thing he would\ +have to unite his fate with hers. He might perhaps have been able to\ +free himself but that Prince Vasili (who had rarely before given\ +receptions) now hardly let a day go by without having an evening party\ +at which Pierre had to be present unless he wished to spoil the general\ +pleasure and disappoint everyone's expectation. Prince Vasili, in the\ +rare moments when he was at home, would take Pierre's hand in passing\ +and draw it downwards, or absent-mindedly hold out his wrinkled, clean-\ +shaven cheek for Pierre to kiss and would say: "Till tomorrow," or, "Be\ +in to dinner or I shall not see you," or, "I am staying in for your\ +sake," and so on. And though Prince Vasili, when he stayed in (as he\ +said) for Pierre's sake, hardly exchanged a couple of words with him,\ +Pierre felt unable to disappoint him. Every day he said to himself one\ +and the same thing: "It is time I understood her and made up my mind\ +what she really is. Was I mistaken before, or am I mistaken now? No, she\ +is not stupid, she is an excellent girl," he sometimes said to himself\ +"she never makes a mistake, never says anything stupid. She says little,\ +but what she does say is always clear and simple, so she is not stupid.\ +She never was abashed and is not abashed now, so she cannot be a bad\ +woman!" He had often begun to make reflections or think aloud in her\ +company, and she had always answered him either by a brief but\ +appropriate remark--showing that it did not interest her--or by a silent\ +look and smile which more palpably than anything else showed Pierre her\ +superiority. She was right in regarding all arguments as nonsense in\ +comparison with that smile.\ +\ +She always addressed him with a radiantly confiding smile meant for him\ +alone, in which there was something more significant than in the general\ +smile that usually brightened her face. Pierre knew that everyone was\ +waiting for him to say a word and cross a certain line, and he knew that\ +sooner or later he would step across it, but an incomprehensible terror\ +seized him at the thought of that dreadful step. A thousand times during\ +that month and a half while he felt himself drawn nearer and nearer to\ +that dreadful abyss, Pierre said to himself: "What am I doing? I need\ +resolution. Can it be that I have none?"\ +\ +He wished to take a decision, but felt with dismay that in this matter\ +he lacked that strength of will which he had known in himself and really\ +possessed. Pierre was one of those who are only strong when they feel\ +themselves quite innocent, and since that day when he was overpowered by\ +a feeling of desire while stooping over the snuffbox at Anna Pavlovna's,\ +an unacknowledged sense of the guilt of that desire paralyzed his will.\ +\ +On Helene's name day, a small party of just their own people--as his\ +wife said--met for supper at Prince Vasili's. All these friends and\ +relations had been given to understand that the fate of the young girl\ +would be decided that evening. The visitors were seated at supper.\ +Princess Kuragina, a portly imposing woman who had once been handsome,\ +was sitting at the head of the table. On either side of her sat the more\ +important guests--an old general and his wife, and Anna Pavlovna\ +Scherer. At the other end sat the younger and less important guests, and\ +there too sat the members of the family, and Pierre and Helene, side by\ +side. Prince Vasili was not having any supper: he went round the table\ +in a merry mood, sitting down now by one, now by another, of the guests.\ +To each of them he made some careless and agreeable remark except to\ +Pierre and Helene, whose presence he seemed not to notice. He enlivened\ +the whole party. The wax candles burned brightly, the silver and crystal\ +gleamed, so did the ladies' toilets and the gold and silver of the men's\ +epaulets; servants in scarlet liveries moved round the table, the\ +clatter of plates, knives, and glasses mingled with the animated hum of\ +several conversations. At one end of the table, the old chamberlain was\ +heard assuring an old baroness that he loved her passionately, at which\ +she laughed; at the other could be heard the story of the misfortunes of\ +some Mary Viktorovna or other. At the center of the table, Prince Vasili\ +attracted everybody's attention. With a facetious smile on his face, he\ +was telling the ladies about last Wednesday's meeting of the Imperial\ +Council, at which Sergey Kuzmich Vyazmitinov, the new military governor\ +general of Petersburg, had received and read the then famous rescript of\ +the Emperor Alexander from the army to Sergey Kuzmich, in which the\ +Emperor said that he was receiving from all sides declarations of the\ +people's loyalty, that the declaration from Petersburg gave him\ +particular pleasure, and that he was proud to be at the head of such a\ +nation and would endeavor to be worthy of it. This rescript began with\ +the words: "Sergey Kuzmich, From all sides reports reach me," etc.\ +\ +"Well, and so he never got farther than: 'Sergey Kuzmich'?" asked one of\ +the ladies.\ +\ +"Exactly, not a hair's breadth farther," answered Prince Vasili,\ +laughing, "'Sergey Kuzmich... From all sides... From all sides... Sergey\ +Kuzmich...' Poor Vyazmitinov could not get any farther! He began the\ +rescript again and again, but as soon as he uttered 'Sergey' he sobbed,\ +'Kuz-mi-ch,' tears, and 'From all sides' was smothered in sobs and he\ +could get no farther. And again his handkerchief, and again: 'Sergey\ +Kuzmich, From all sides,'... and tears, till at last somebody else was\ +asked to read it."\ +\ +"Kuzmich... From all sides... and then tears," someone repeated\ +laughing.\ +\ +"Don't be unkind," cried Anna Pavlovna from her end of the table holding\ +up a threatening finger. "He is such a worthy and excellent man, our\ +dear Vyazmitinov...."\ +\ +Everybody laughed a great deal. At the head of the table, where the\ +honored guests sat, everyone seemed to be in high spirits and under the\ +influence of a variety of exciting sensations. Only Pierre and Helene\ +sat silently side by side almost at the bottom of the table, a\ +suppressed smile brightening both their faces, a smile that had nothing\ +to do with Sergey Kuzmich--a smile of bashfulness at their own feelings.\ +But much as all the rest laughed, talked, and joked, much as they\ +enjoyed their Rhine wine, saute, and ices, and however they avoided\ +looking at the young couple, and heedless and unobservant as they seemed\ +of them, one could feel by the occasional glances they gave that the\ +story about Sergey Kuzmich, the laughter, and the food were all a\ +pretense, and that the whole attention of that company was directed to--\ +Pierre and Helene. Prince Vasili mimicked the sobbing of Sergey Kuzmich\ +and at the same time his eyes glanced toward his daughter, and while he\ +laughed the expression on his face clearly said: "Yes... it's getting\ +on, it will all be settled today." Anna Pavlovna threatened him on\ +behalf of "our dear Vyazmitinov," and in her eyes, which, for an\ +instant, glanced at Pierre, Prince Vasili read a congratulation on his\ +future son-in-law and on his daughter's happiness. The old princess\ +sighed sadly as she offered some wine to the old lady next to her and\ +glanced angrily at her daughter, and her sigh seemed to say: "Yes,\ +there's nothing left for you and me but to sip sweet wine, my dear, now\ +that the time has come for these young ones to be thus boldly,\ +provocatively happy." "And what nonsense all this is that I am saying!"\ +thought a diplomatist, glancing at the happy faces of the lovers.\ +"That's happiness!"\ +\ +Into the insignificant, trifling, and artificial interests uniting that\ +society had entered the simple feeling of the attraction of a healthy\ +and handsome young man and woman for one another. And this human feeling\ +dominated everything else and soared above all their affected chatter.\ +Jests fell flat, news was not interesting, and the animation was\ +evidently forced. Not only the guests but even the footmen waiting at\ +table seemed to feel this, and they forgot their duties as they looked\ +at the beautiful Helene with her radiant face and at the red, broad, and\ +happy though uneasy face of Pierre. It seemed as if the very light of\ +the candles was focused on those two happy faces alone.\ +\ +Pierre felt that he was the center of it all, and this both pleased and\ +embarrassed him. He was like a man entirely absorbed in some occupation.\ +He did not see, hear, or understand anything clearly. Only now and then\ +detached ideas and impressions from the world of reality shot\ +unexpectedly through his mind.\ +\ +"So it is all finished!" he thought. "And how has it all happened? How\ +quickly! Now I know that not because of her alone, nor of myself alone,\ +but because of everyone, it must inevitably come about. They are all\ +expecting it, they are so sure that it will happen that I cannot, I\ +cannot, disappoint them. But how will it be? I do not know, but it will\ +certainly happen!" thought Pierre, glancing at those dazzling shoulders\ +close to his eyes.\ +\ +Or he would suddenly feel ashamed of he knew not what. He felt it\ +awkward to attract everyone's attention and to be considered a lucky man\ +and, with his plain face, to be looked on as a sort of Paris possessed\ +of a Helen. "But no doubt it always is and must be so!" he consoled\ +himself. "And besides, what have I done to bring it about? How did it\ +begin? I traveled from Moscow with Prince Vasili. Then there was\ +nothing. So why should I not stay at his house? Then I played cards with\ +her and picked up her reticule and drove out with her. How did it begin,\ +when did it all come about?" And here he was sitting by her side as her\ +betrothed, seeing, hearing, feeling her nearness, her breathing, her\ +movements, her beauty. Then it would suddenly seem to him that it was\ +not she but he was so unusually beautiful, and that that was why they\ +all looked so at him, and flattered by this general admiration he would\ +expand his chest, raise his head, and rejoice at his good fortune.\ +Suddenly he heard a familiar voice repeating something to him a second\ +time. But Pierre was so absorbed that he did not understand what was\ +said.\ +\ +"I am asking you when you last heard from Bolkonski," repeated Prince\ +Vasili a third time. "How absent-minded you are, my dear fellow."\ +\ +Prince Vasili smiled, and Pierre noticed that everyone was smiling at\ +him and Helene. "Well, what of it, if you all know it?" thought Pierre.\ +"What of it? It's the truth!" and he himself smiled his gentle childlike\ +smile, and Helene smiled too.\ +\ +"When did you get the letter? Was it from Olmutz?" repeated Prince\ +Vasili, who pretended to want to know this in order to settle a dispute.\ +\ +"How can one talk or think of such trifles?" thought Pierre.\ +\ +"Yes, from Olmutz," he answered, with a sigh.\ +\ +After supper Pierre with his partner followed the others into the\ +drawing room. The guests began to disperse, some without taking leave of\ +Helene. Some, as if unwilling to distract her from an important\ +occupation, came up to her for a moment and made haste to go away,\ +refusing to let her see them off. The diplomatist preserved a mournful\ +silence as he left the drawing room. He pictured the vanity of his\ +diplomatic career in comparison with Pierre's happiness. The old general\ +grumbled at his wife when she asked how his leg was. "Oh, the old fool,"\ +he thought. "That Princess Helene will be beautiful still when she's\ +fifty."\ +\ +"I think I may congratulate you," whispered Anna Pavlovna to the old\ +princess, kissing her soundly. "If I hadn't this headache I'd have\ +stayed longer."\ +\ +The old princess did not reply, she was tormented by jealousy of her\ +daughter's happiness.\ +\ +While the guests were taking their leave Pierre remained for a long time\ +alone with Helene in the little drawing room where they were sitting. He\ +had often before, during the last six weeks, remained alone with her,\ +but had never spoken to her of love. Now he felt that it was inevitable,\ +but he could not make up his mind to take the final step. He felt\ +ashamed; he felt that he was occupying someone else's place here beside\ +Helene. "This happiness is not for you," some inner voice whispered to\ +him. "This happiness is for those who have not in them what there is in\ +you."\ +\ +But, as he had to say something, he began by asking her whether she was\ +satisfied with the party. She replied in her usual simple manner that\ +this name day of hers had been one of the pleasantest she had ever had.\ +\ +Some of the nearest relatives had not yet left. They were sitting in the\ +large drawing room. Prince Vasili came up to Pierre with languid\ +footsteps. Pierre rose and said it was getting late. Prince Vasili gave\ +him a look of stern inquiry, as though what Pierre had just said was so\ +strange that one could not take it in. But then the expression of\ +severity changed, and he drew Pierre's hand downwards, made him sit\ +down, and smiled affectionately.\ +\ +"Well, Lelya?" he asked, turning instantly to his daughter and\ +addressing her with the careless tone of habitual tenderness natural to\ +parents who have petted their children from babyhood, but which Prince\ +Vasili had only acquired by imitating other parents.\ +\ +And he again turned to Pierre.\ +\ +"Sergey Kuzmich--From all sides-" he said, unbuttoning the top button of\ +his waistcoat.\ +\ +Pierre smiled, but his smile showed that he knew it was not the story\ +about Sergey Kuzmich that interested Prince Vasili just then, and Prince\ +Vasili saw that Pierre knew this. He suddenly muttered something and\ +went away. It seemed to Pierre that even the prince was disconcerted.\ +The sight of the discomposure of that old man of the world touched\ +Pierre: he looked at Helene and she too seemed disconcerted, and her\ +look seemed to say: "Well, it is your own fault."\ +\ +"The step must be taken but I cannot, I cannot!" thought Pierre, and he\ +again began speaking about indifferent matters, about Sergey Kuzmich,\ +asking what the point of the story was as he had not heard it properly.\ +Helene answered with a smile that she too had missed it.\ +\ +When Prince Vasili returned to the drawing room, the princess, his wife,\ +was talking in low tones to the elderly lady about Pierre.\ +\ +"Of course, it is a very brilliant match, but happiness, my dear..."\ +\ +"Marriages are made in heaven," replied the elderly lady.\ +\ +Prince Vasili passed by, seeming not to hear the ladies, and sat down on\ +a sofa in a far corner of the room. He closed his eyes and seemed to be\ +dozing. His head sank forward and then he roused himself.\ +\ +"Aline," he said to his wife, "go and see what they are about."\ +\ +The princess went up to the door, passed by it with a dignified and\ +indifferent air, and glanced into the little drawing room. Pierre and\ +Helene still sat talking just as before.\ +\ +"Still the same," she said to her husband.\ +\ +Prince Vasili frowned, twisting his mouth, his cheeks quivered and his\ +face assumed the coarse, unpleasant expression peculiar to him. Shaking\ +himself, he rose, threw back his head, and with resolute steps went past\ +the ladies into the little drawing room. With quick steps he went\ +joyfully up to Pierre. His face was so unusually triumphant that Pierre\ +rose in alarm on seeing it.\ +\ +"Thank God!" said Prince Vasili. "My wife has told me everything!" (He\ +put one arm around Pierre and the other around his daughter.)--"My dear\ +boy... Lelya... I am very pleased." (His voice trembled.) "I loved your\ +father... and she will make you a good wife... God bless you!..."\ +\ +He embraced his daughter, and then again Pierre, and kissed him with his\ +malodorous mouth. Tears actually moistened his cheeks.\ +\ +"Princess, come here!" he shouted.\ +\ +The old princess came in and also wept. The elderly lady was using her\ +handkerchief too. Pierre was kissed, and he kissed the beautiful\ +Helene's hand several times. After a while they were left alone again.\ +\ +"All this had to be and could not be otherwise," thought Pierre, "so it\ +is useless to ask whether it is good or bad. It is good because it's\ +definite and one is rid of the old tormenting doubt." Pierre held the\ +hand of his betrothed in silence, looking at her beautiful bosom as it\ +rose and fell.\ +\ +"Helene!" he said aloud and paused.\ +\ +"Something special is always said in such cases," he thought, but could\ +not remember what it was that people say. He looked at her face. She\ +drew nearer to him. Her face flushed.\ +\ +"Oh, take those off... those..." she said, pointing to his spectacles.\ +\ +Pierre took them off, and his eyes, besides the strange look eyes have\ +from which spectacles have just been removed, had also a frightened and\ +inquiring look. He was about to stoop over her hand and kiss it, but\ +with a rapid, almost brutal movement of her head, she intercepted his\ +lips and met them with her own. Her face struck Pierre, by its altered,\ +unpleasantly excited expression.\ +\ +"It is too late now, it's done; besides I love her," thought Pierre.\ +\ +"Je vous aime!" * he said, remembering what has to be said at such\ +moments: but his words sounded so weak that he felt ashamed of himself.\ +\ +\ +* "I love you."\ +\ +Six weeks later he was married, and settled in Count Bezukhov's large,\ +newly furnished Petersburg house, the happy possessor, as people said,\ +of a wife who was a celebrated beauty and of millions of money.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER III\ +\ +Old Prince Nicholas Bolkonski received a letter from Prince Vasili in\ +November, 1805, announcing that he and his son would be paying him a\ +visit. "I am starting on a journey of inspection, and of course I shall\ +think nothing of an extra seventy miles to come and see you at the same\ +time, my honored benefactor," wrote Prince Vasili. "My son Anatole is\ +accompanying me on his way to the army, so I hope you will allow him\ +personally to express the deep respect that, emulating his father, he\ +feels for you."\ +\ +"It seems that there will be no need to bring Mary out, suitors are\ +coming to us of their own accord," incautiously remarked the little\ +princess on hearing the news.\ +\ +Prince Nicholas frowned, but said nothing.\ +\ +A fortnight after the letter Prince Vasili's servants came one evening\ +in advance of him, and he and his son arrived next day.\ +\ +Old Bolkonski had always had a poor opinion of Prince Vasili's\ +character, but more so recently, since in the new reigns of Paul and\ +Alexander Prince Vasili had risen to high position and honors. And now,\ +from the hints contained in his letter and given by the little princess,\ +he saw which way the wind was blowing, and his low opinion changed into\ +a feeling of contemptuous ill will. He snorted whenever he mentioned\ +him. On the day of Prince Vasili's arrival, Prince Bolkonski was\ +particularly discontented and out of temper. Whether he was in a bad\ +temper because Prince Vasili was coming, or whether his being in a bad\ +temper made him specially annoyed at Prince Vasili's visit, he was in a\ +bad temper, and in the morning Tikhon had already advised the architect\ +not to go to the prince with his report.\ +\ +"Do you hear how he's walking?" said Tikhon, drawing the architect's\ +attention to the sound of the prince's footsteps. "Stepping flat on his\ +heels--we know what that means...."\ +\ +However, at nine o'clock the prince, in his velvet coat with a sable\ +collar and cap, went out for his usual walk. It had snowed the day\ +before and the path to the hothouse, along which the prince was in the\ +habit of walking, had been swept: the marks of the broom were still\ +visible in the snow and a shovel had been left sticking in one of the\ +soft snowbanks that bordered both sides of the path. The prince went\ +through the conservatories, the serfs' quarters, and the outbuildings,\ +frowning and silent.\ +\ +"Can a sleigh pass?" he asked his overseer, a venerable man, resembling\ +his master in manners and looks, who was accompanying him back to the\ +house.\ +\ +"The snow is deep. I am having the avenue swept, your honor."\ +\ +The prince bowed his head and went up to the porch. "God be thanked,"\ +thought the overseer, "the storm has blown over!"\ +\ +"It would have been hard to drive up, your honor," he added. "I heard,\ +your honor, that a minister is coming to visit your honor."\ +\ +The prince turned round to the overseer and fixed his eyes on him,\ +frowning.\ +\ +"What? A minister? What minister? Who gave orders?" he said in his\ +shrill, harsh voice. "The road is not swept for the princess my\ +daughter, but for a minister! For me, there are no ministers!"\ +\ +"Your honor, I thought..."\ +\ +"You thought!" shouted the prince, his words coming more and more\ +rapidly and indistinctly. "You thought!... Rascals! Blackguards!... I'll\ +teach you to think!" and lifting his stick he swung it and would have\ +hit Alpatych, the overseer, had not the latter instinctively avoided the\ +blow. "Thought... Blackguards..." shouted the prince rapidly.\ +\ +But although Alpatych, frightened at his own temerity in avoiding the\ +stroke, came up to the prince, bowing his bald head resignedly before\ +him, or perhaps for that very reason, the prince, though he continued to\ +shout: "Blackguards!... Throw the snow back on the road!" did not lift\ +his stick again but hurried into the house.\ +\ +Before dinner, Princess Mary and Mademoiselle Bourienne, who knew that\ +the prince was in a bad humor, stood awaiting him; Mademoiselle\ +Bourienne with a radiant face that said: "I know nothing, I am the same\ +as usual," and Princess Mary pale, frightened, and with downcast eyes.\ +What she found hardest to bear was to know that on such occasions she\ +ought to behave like Mademoiselle Bourienne, but could not. She thought:\ +"If I seem not to notice he will think that I do not sympathize with\ +him; if I seem sad and out of spirits myself, he will say (as he has\ +done before) that I'm in the dumps."\ +\ +The prince looked at his daughter's frightened face and snorted.\ +\ +"Fool... or dummy!" he muttered.\ +\ +"And the other one is not here. They've been telling tales," he thought-\ +-referring to the little princess who was not in the dining room.\ +\ +"Where is the princess?" he asked. "Hiding?"\ +\ +"She is not very well," answered Mademoiselle Bourienne with a bright\ +smile, "so she won't come down. It is natural in her state."\ +\ +"Hm! Hm!" muttered the prince, sitting down.\ +\ +His plate seemed to him not quite clean, and pointing to a spot he flung\ +it away. Tikhon caught it and handed it to a footman. The little\ +princess was not unwell, but had such an overpowering fear of the prince\ +that, hearing he was in a bad humor, she had decided not to appear.\ +\ +"I am afraid for the baby," she said to Mademoiselle Bourienne: "Heaven\ +knows what a fright might do."\ +\ +In general at Bald Hills the little princess lived in constant fear, and\ +with a sense of antipathy to the old prince which she did not realize\ +because the fear was so much the stronger feeling. The prince\ +reciprocated this antipathy, but it was overpowered by his contempt for\ +her. When the little princess had grown accustomed to life at Bald\ +Hills, she took a special fancy to Mademoiselle Bourienne, spent whole\ +days with her, asked her to sleep in her room, and often talked with her\ +about the old prince and criticized him.\ +\ +"So we are to have visitors, mon prince?" remarked Mademoiselle\ +Bourienne, unfolding her white napkin with her rosy fingers. "His\ +Excellency Prince Vasili Kuragin and his son, I understand?" she said\ +inquiringly.\ +\ +"Hm!--his excellency is a puppy.... I got him his appointment in the\ +service," said the prince disdainfully. "Why his son is coming I don't\ +understand. Perhaps Princess Elizabeth and Princess Mary know. I don't\ +want him." (He looked at his blushing daughter.) "Are you unwell today?\ +Eh? Afraid of the 'minister' as that idiot Alpatych called him this\ +morning?"\ +\ +"No, mon pere."\ +\ +Though Mademoiselle Bourienne had been so unsuccessful in her choice of\ +a subject, she did not stop talking, but chattered about the\ +conservatories and the beauty of a flower that had just opened, and\ +after the soup the prince became more genial.\ +\ +After dinner, he went to see his daughter-in-law. The little princess\ +was sitting at a small table, chattering with Masha, her maid. She grew\ +pale on seeing her father-in-law.\ +\ +She was much altered. She was now plain rather than pretty. Her cheeks\ +had sunk, her lip was drawn up, and her eyes drawn down.\ +\ +"Yes, I feel a kind of oppression," she said in reply to the prince's\ +question as to how she felt.\ +\ +"Do you want anything?"\ +\ +"No, merci, mon pere."\ +\ +"Well, all right, all right."\ +\ +He left the room and went to the waiting room where Alpatych stood with\ +bowed head.\ +\ +"Has the snow been shoveled back?"\ +\ +"Yes, your excellency. Forgive me for heaven's sake... It was only my\ +stupidity."\ +\ +"All right, all right," interrupted the prince, and laughing his\ +unnatural way, he stretched out his hand for Alpatych to kiss, and then\ +proceeded to his study.\ +\ +Prince Vasili arrived that evening. He was met in the avenue by coachmen\ +and footmen, who, with loud shouts, dragged his sleighs up to one of the\ +lodges over the road purposely laden with snow.\ +\ +Prince Vasili and Anatole had separate rooms assigned to them.\ +\ +Anatole, having taken off his overcoat, sat with arms akimbo before a\ +table on a corner of which he smilingly and absent-mindedly fixed his\ +large and handsome eyes. He regarded his whole life as a continual round\ +of amusement which someone for some reason had to provide for him. And\ +he looked on this visit to a churlish old man and a rich and ugly\ +heiress in the same way. All this might, he thought, turn out very well\ +and amusingly. "And why not marry her if she really has so much money?\ +That never does any harm," thought Anatole.\ +\ +He shaved and scented himself with the care and elegance which had\ +become habitual to him and, his handsome head held high, entered his\ +father's room with the good-humored and victorious air natural to him.\ +Prince Vasili's two valets were busy dressing him, and he looked round\ +with much animation and cheerfully nodded to his son as the latter\ +entered, as if to say: "Yes, that's how I want you to look."\ +\ +"I say, Father, joking apart, is she very hideous?" Anatole asked, as if\ +continuing a conversation the subject of which had often been mentioned\ +during the journey.\ +\ +"Enough! What nonsense! Above all, try to be respectful and cautious\ +with the old prince."\ +\ +"If he starts a row I'll go away," said Prince Anatole. "I can't bear\ +those old men! Eh?"\ +\ +"Remember, for you everything depends on this."\ +\ +In the meantime, not only was it known in the maidservants' rooms that\ +the minister and his son had arrived, but the appearance of both had\ +been minutely described. Princess Mary was sitting alone in her room,\ +vainly trying to master her agitation.\ +\ +"Why did they write, why did Lise tell me about it? It can never\ +happen!" she said, looking at herself in the glass. "How shall I enter\ +the drawing room? Even if I like him I can't now be myself with him."\ +The mere thought of her father's look filled her with terror. The little\ +princess and Mademoiselle Bourienne had already received from Masha, the\ +lady's maid, the necessary report of how handsome the minister's son\ +was, with his rosy cheeks and dark eyebrows, and with what difficulty\ +the father had dragged his legs upstairs while the son had followed him\ +like an eagle, three steps at a time. Having received this information,\ +the little princess and Mademoiselle Bourienne, whose chattering voices\ +had reached her from the corridor, went into Princess Mary's room.\ +\ +"You know they've come, Marie?" said the little princess, waddling in,\ +and sinking heavily into an armchair.\ +\ +She was no longer in the loose gown she generally wore in the morning,\ +but had on one of her best dresses. Her hair was carefully done and her\ +face was animated, which, however, did not conceal its sunken and faded\ +outlines. Dressed as she used to be in Petersburg society, it was still\ +more noticeable how much plainer she had become. Some unobtrusive touch\ +had been added to Mademoiselle Bourienne's toilet which rendered her\ +fresh and pretty face yet more attractive.\ +\ +"What! Are you going to remain as you are, dear princess?" she began.\ +"They'll be announcing that the gentlemen are in the drawing room and we\ +shall have to go down, and you have not smartened yourself up at all!"\ +\ +The little princess got up, rang for the maid, and hurriedly and merrily\ +began to devise and carry out a plan of how Princess Mary should be\ +dressed. Princess Mary's self-esteem was wounded by the fact that the\ +arrival of a suitor agitated her, and still more so by both her\ +companions' not having the least conception that it could be otherwise.\ +To tell them that she felt ashamed for herself and for them would be to\ +betray her agitation, while to decline their offers to dress her would\ +prolong their banter and insistence. She flushed, her beautiful eyes\ +grew dim, red blotches came on her face, and it took on the unattractive\ +martyrlike expression it so often wore, as she submitted herself to\ +Mademoiselle Bourienne and Lise. Both these women quite sincerely tried\ +to make her look pretty. She was so plain that neither of them could\ +think of her as a rival, so they began dressing her with perfect\ +sincerity, and with the naive and firm conviction women have that dress\ +can make a face pretty.\ +\ +"No really, my dear, this dress is not pretty," said Lise, looking\ +sideways at Princess Mary from a little distance. "You have a maroon\ +dress, have it fetched. Really! You know the fate of your whole life may\ +be at stake. But this one is too light, it's not becoming!"\ +\ +It was not the dress, but the face and whole figure of Princess Mary\ +that was not pretty, but neither Mademoiselle Bourienne nor the little\ +princess felt this; they still thought that if a blue ribbon were placed\ +in the hair, the hair combed up, and the blue scarf arranged lower on\ +the best maroon dress, and so on, all would be well. They forgot that\ +the frightened face and the figure could not be altered, and that\ +however they might change the setting and adornment of that face, it\ +would still remain piteous and plain. After two or three changes to\ +which Princess Mary meekly submitted, just as her hair had been arranged\ +on the top of her head (a style that quite altered and spoiled her\ +looks) and she had put on a maroon dress with a pale-blue scarf, the\ +little princess walked twice round her, now adjusting a fold of the\ +dress with her little hand, now arranging the scarf and looking at her\ +with her head bent first on one side and then on the other.\ +\ +"No, it will not do," she said decidedly, clasping her hands. "No, Mary,\ +really this dress does not suit you. I prefer you in your little gray\ +everyday dress. Now please, do it for my sake. Katie," she said to the\ +maid, "bring the princess her gray dress, and you'll see, Mademoiselle\ +Bourienne, how I shall arrange it," she added, smiling with a foretaste\ +of artistic pleasure.\ +\ +But when Katie brought the required dress, Princess Mary remained\ +sitting motionless before the glass, looking at her face, and saw in the\ +mirror her eyes full of tears and her mouth quivering, ready to burst\ +into sobs.\ +\ +"Come, dear princess," said Mademoiselle Bourienne, "just one more\ +little effort."\ +\ +The little princess, taking the dress from the maid, came up to Princess\ +Mary.\ +\ +"Well, now we'll arrange something quite simple and becoming," she said.\ +\ +The three voices, hers, Mademoiselle Bourienne's, and Katie's, who was\ +laughing at something, mingled in a merry sound, like the chirping of\ +birds.\ +\ +"No, leave me alone," said Princess Mary.\ +\ +Her voice sounded so serious and so sad that the chirping of the birds\ +was silenced at once. They looked at the beautiful, large, thoughtful\ +eyes full of tears and of thoughts, gazing shiningly and imploringly at\ +them, and understood that it was useless and even cruel to insist.\ +\ +"At least, change your coiffure," said the little princess. "Didn't I\ +tell you," she went on, turning reproachfully to Mademoiselle Bourienne,\ +"Mary's is a face which such a coiffure does not suit in the least. Not\ +in the least! Please change it."\ +\ +"Leave me alone, please leave me alone! It is all quite the same to me,"\ +answered a voice struggling with tears.\ +\ +Mademoiselle Bourienne and the little princess had to own to themselves\ +that Princess Mary in this guise looked very plain, worse than usual,\ +but it was too late. She was looking at them with an expression they\ +both knew, an expression thoughtful and sad. This expression in Princess\ +Mary did not frighten them (she never inspired fear in anyone), but they\ +knew that when it appeared on her face, she became mute and was not to\ +be shaken in her determination.\ +\ +"You will change it, won't you?" said Lise. And as Princess Mary gave no\ +answer, she left the room.\ +\ +Princess Mary was left alone. She did not comply with Lise's request,\ +she not only left her hair as it was, but did not even look in her\ +glass. Letting her arms fall helplessly, she sat with downcast eyes and\ +pondered. A husband, a man, a strong dominant and strangely attractive\ +being rose in her imagination, and carried her into a totally different\ +happy world of his own. She fancied a child, her own--such as she had\ +seen the day before in the arms of her nurse's daughter--at her own\ +breast, the husband standing by and gazing tenderly at her and the\ +child. "But no, it is impossible, I am too ugly," she thought.\ +\ +"Please come to tea. The prince will be out in a moment," came the\ +maid's voice at the door.\ +\ +She roused herself, and felt appalled at what she had been thinking, and\ +before going down she went into the room where the icons hung and, her\ +eyes fixed on the dark face of a large icon of the Saviour lit by a\ +lamp, she stood before it with folded hands for a few moments. A painful\ +doubt filled her soul. Could the joy of love, of earthly love for a man,\ +be for her? In her thoughts of marriage Princess Mary dreamed of\ +happiness and of children, but her strongest, most deeply hidden longing\ +was for earthly love. The more she tried to hide this feeling from\ +others and even from herself, the stronger it grew. "O God," she said,\ +"how am I to stifle in my heart these temptations of the devil? How am I\ +to renounce forever these vile fancies, so as peacefully to fulfill Thy\ +will?" And scarcely had she put that question than God gave her the\ +answer in her own heart. "Desire nothing for thyself, seek nothing, be\ +not anxious or envious. Man's future and thy own fate must remain hidden\ +from thee, but live so that thou mayest be ready for anything. If it be\ +God's will to prove thee in the duties of marriage, be ready to fulfill\ +His will." With this consoling thought (but yet with a hope for the\ +fulfillment of her forbidden earthly longing) Princess Mary sighed, and\ +having crossed herself went down, thinking neither of her gown and\ +coiffure nor of how she would go in nor of what she would say. What\ +could all that matter in comparison with the will of God, without Whose\ +care not a hair of man's head can fall?\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER IV\ +\ +When Princess Mary came down, Prince Vasili and his son were already in\ +the drawing room, talking to the little princess and Mademoiselle\ +Bourienne. When she entered with her heavy step, treading on her heels,\ +the gentlemen and Mademoiselle Bourienne rose and the little princess,\ +indicating her to the gentlemen, said: "Voila Marie!" Princess Mary saw\ +them all and saw them in detail. She saw Prince Vasili's face, serious\ +for an instant at the sight of her, but immediately smiling again, and\ +the little princess curiously noting the impression "Marie" produced on\ +the visitors. And she saw Mademoiselle Bourienne, with her ribbon and\ +pretty face, and her unusually animated look which was fixed on him, but\ +him she could not see, she only saw something large, brilliant, and\ +handsome moving toward her as she entered the room. Prince Vasili\ +approached first, and she kissed the bold forehead that bent over her\ +hand and answered his question by saying that, on the contrary, she\ +remembered him quite well. Then Anatole came up to her. She still could\ +not see him. She only felt a soft hand taking hers firmly, and she\ +touched with her lips a white forehead, over which was beautiful light-\ +brown hair smelling of pomade. When she looked up at him she was struck\ +by his beauty. Anatole stood with his right thumb under a button of his\ +uniform, his chest expanded and his back drawn in, slightly swinging one\ +foot, and, with his head a little bent, looked with beaming face at the\ +princess without speaking and evidently not thinking about her at all.\ +Anatole was not quick-witted, nor ready or eloquent in conversation, but\ +he had the faculty, so invaluable in society, of composure and\ +imperturbable self-possession. If a man lacking in self-confidence\ +remains dumb on a first introduction and betrays a consciousness of the\ +impropriety of such silence and an anxiety to find something to say, the\ +effect is bad. But Anatole was dumb, swung his foot, and smilingly\ +examined the princess' hair. It was evident that he could be silent in\ +this way for a very long time. "If anyone finds this silence\ +inconvenient, let him talk, but I don't want to," he seemed to say.\ +Besides this, in his behavior to women Anatole had a manner which\ +particularly inspires in them curiosity, awe, and even love--a\ +supercilious consciousness of his own superiority. It was as if he said\ +to them: "I know you, I know you, but why should I bother about you?\ +You'd be only too glad, of course." Perhaps he did not really think this\ +when he met women--even probably he did not, for in general he thought\ +very little--but his looks and manner gave that impression. The princess\ +felt this, and as if wishing to show him that she did not even dare\ +expect to interest him, she turned to his father. The conversation was\ +general and animated, thanks to Princess Lise's voice and little downy\ +lip that lifted over her white teeth. She met Prince Vasili with that\ +playful manner often employed by lively chatty people, and consisting in\ +the assumption that between the person they so address and themselves\ +there are some semi-private, long-established jokes and amusing\ +reminiscences, though no such reminiscences really exist--just as none\ +existed in this case. Prince Vasili readily adopted her tone and the\ +little princess also drew Anatole, whom she hardly knew, into these\ +amusing recollections of things that had never occurred. Mademoiselle\ +Bourienne also shared them and even Princess Mary felt herself\ +pleasantly made to share in these merry reminiscences.\ +\ +"Here at least we shall have the benefit of your company all to\ +ourselves, dear prince," said the little princess (of course, in French)\ +to Prince Vasili. "It's not as at Annette's * receptions where you\ +always ran away; you remember cette chere Annette!"\ +\ +\ +* Anna Pavlovna.\ +\ +"Ah, but you won't talk politics to me like Annette!"\ +\ +"And our little tea table?"\ +\ +"Oh, yes!"\ +\ +"Why is it you were never at Annette's?" the little princess asked\ +Anatole. "Ah, I know, I know," she said with a sly glance, "your brother\ +Hippolyte told me about your goings on. Oh!" and she shook her finger at\ +him, "I have even heard of your doings in Paris!"\ +\ +"And didn't Hippolyte tell you?" asked Prince Vasili, turning to his son\ +and seizing the little princess' arm as if she would have run away and\ +he had just managed to catch her, "didn't he tell you how he himself was\ +pining for the dear princess, and how she showed him the door? Oh, she\ +is a pearl among women, Princess," he added, turning to Princess Mary.\ +\ +When Paris was mentioned, Mademoiselle Bourienne for her part seized the\ +opportunity of joining in the general current of recollections.\ +\ +She took the liberty of inquiring whether it was long since Anatole had\ +left Paris and how he had liked that city. Anatole answered the\ +Frenchwoman very readily and, looking at her with a smile, talked to her\ +about her native land. When he saw the pretty little Bourienne, Anatole\ +came to the conclusion that he would not find Bald Hills dull either.\ +"Not at all bad!" he thought, examining her, "not at all bad, that\ +little companion! I hope she will bring her along with her when we're\ +married, la petite est gentille." *\ +\ +\ +* The little one is charming.\ +\ +The old prince dressed leisurely in his study, frowning and considering\ +what he was to do. The coming of these visitors annoyed him. "What are\ +Prince Vasili and that son of his to me? Prince Vasili is a shallow\ +braggart and his son, no doubt, is a fine specimen," he grumbled to\ +himself. What angered him was that the coming of these visitors revived\ +in his mind an unsettled question he always tried to stifle, one about\ +which he always deceived himself. The question was whether he could ever\ +bring himself to part from his daughter and give her to a husband. The\ +prince never directly asked himself that question, knowing beforehand\ +that he would have to answer it justly, and justice clashed not only\ +with his feelings but with the very possibility of life. Life without\ +Princess Mary, little as he seemed to value her, was unthinkable to him.\ +"And why should she marry?" he thought. "To be unhappy for certain.\ +There's Lise, married to Andrew--a better husband one would think could\ +hardly be found nowadays--but is she contented with her lot? And who\ +would marry Marie for love? Plain and awkward! They'll take her for her\ +connections and wealth. Are there no women living unmarried, and even\ +the happier for it?" So thought Prince Bolkonski while dressing, and yet\ +the question he was always putting off demanded an immediate answer.\ +Prince Vasili had brought his son with the evident intention of\ +proposing, and today or tomorrow he would probably ask for an answer.\ +His birth and position in society were not bad. "Well, I've nothing\ +against it," the prince said to himself, "but he must be worthy of her.\ +And that is what we shall see."\ +\ +"That is what we shall see! That is what we shall see!" he added aloud.\ +\ +He entered the drawing room with his usual alert step, glancing rapidly\ +round the company. He noticed the change in the little princess' dress,\ +Mademoiselle Bourienne's ribbon, Princess Mary's unbecoming coiffure,\ +Mademoiselle Bourienne's and Anatole's smiles, and the loneliness of his\ +daughter amid the general conversation. "Got herself up like a fool!" he\ +thought, looking irritably at her. "She is shameless, and he ignores\ +her!"\ +\ +He went straight up to Prince Vasili.\ +\ +"Well! How d'ye do? How d'ye do? Glad to see you!"\ +\ +"Friendship laughs at distance," began Prince Vasili in his usual rapid,\ +self-confident, familiar tone. "Here is my second son; please love and\ +befriend him."\ +\ +Prince Bolkonski surveyed Anatole.\ +\ +"Fine young fellow! Fine young fellow!" he said. "Well, come and kiss\ +me," and he offered his cheek.\ +\ +Anatole kissed the old man, and looked at him with curiosity and perfect\ +composure, waiting for a display of the eccentricities his father had\ +told him to expect.\ +\ +Prince Bolkonski sat down in his usual place in the corner of the sofa\ +and, drawing up an armchair for Prince Vasili, pointed to it and began\ +questioning him about political affairs and news. He seemed to listen\ +attentively to what Prince Vasili said, but kept glancing at Princess\ +Mary.\ +\ +"And so they are writing from Potsdam already?" he said, repeating\ +Prince Vasili's last words. Then rising, he suddenly went up to his\ +daughter.\ +\ +"Is it for visitors you've got yourself up like that, eh?" said he.\ +"Fine, very fine! You have done up your hair in this new way for the\ +visitors, and before the visitors I tell you that in future you are\ +never to dare to change your way of dress without my consent."\ +\ +"It was my fault, mon pere," interceded the little princess, with a\ +blush.\ +\ +"You must do as you please," said Prince Bolkonski, bowing to his\ +daughter-in-law, "but she need not make a fool of herself, she's plain\ +enough as it is."\ +\ +And he sat down again, paying no more attention to his daughter, who was\ +reduced to tears.\ +\ +"On the contrary, that coiffure suits the princess very well," said\ +Prince Vasili.\ +\ +"Now you, young prince, what's your name?" said Prince Bolkonski,\ +turning to Anatole, "come here, let us talk and get acquainted."\ +\ +"Now the fun begins," thought Anatole, sitting down with a smile beside\ +the old prince.\ +\ +"Well, my dear boy, I hear you've been educated abroad, not taught to\ +read and write by the deacon, like your father and me. Now tell me, my\ +dear boy, are you serving in the Horse Guards?" asked the old man,\ +scrutinizing Anatole closely and intently.\ +\ +"No, I have been transferred to the line," said Anatole, hardly able to\ +restrain his laughter.\ +\ +"Ah! That's a good thing. So, my dear boy, you wish to serve the Tsar\ +and the country? It is wartime. Such a fine fellow must serve. Well, are\ +you off to the front?"\ +\ +"No, Prince, our regiment has gone to the front, but I am attached...\ +what is it I am attached to, Papa?" said Anatole, turning to his father\ +with a laugh.\ +\ +"A splendid soldier, splendid! 'What am I attached to!' Ha, ha, ha!"\ +laughed Prince Bolkonski, and Anatole laughed still louder. Suddenly\ +Prince Bolkonski frowned.\ +\ +"You may go," he said to Anatole.\ +\ +Anatole returned smiling to the ladies.\ +\ +"And so you've had him educated abroad, Prince Vasili, haven't you?"\ +said the old prince to Prince Vasili.\ +\ +"I have done my best for him, and I can assure you the education there\ +is much better than ours."\ +\ +"Yes, everything is different nowadays, everything is changed. The lad's\ +a fine fellow, a fine fellow! Well, come with me now." He took Prince\ +Vasili's arm and led him to his study. As soon as they were alone\ +together, Prince Vasili announced his hopes and wishes to the old\ +prince.\ +\ +"Well, do you think I shall prevent her, that I can't part from her?"\ +said the old prince angrily. "What an idea! I'm ready for it tomorrow!\ +Only let me tell you, I want to know my son-in-law better. You know my\ +principles--everything aboveboard? I will ask her tomorrow in your\ +presence; if she is willing, then he can stay on. He can stay and I'll\ +see." The old prince snorted. "Let her marry, it's all the same to me!"\ +he screamed in the same piercing tone as when parting from his son.\ +\ +"I will tell you frankly," said Prince Vasili in the tone of a crafty\ +man convinced of the futility of being cunning with so keen-sighted a\ +companion. "You know, you see right through people. Anatole is no\ +genius, but he is an honest, goodhearted lad; an excellent son or\ +kinsman."\ +\ +"All right, all right, we'll see!"\ +\ +As always happens when women lead lonely lives for any length of time\ +without male society, on Anatole's appearance all the three women of\ +Prince Bolkonski's household felt that their life had not been real till\ +then. Their powers of reasoning, feeling, and observing immediately\ +increased tenfold, and their life, which seemed to have been passed in\ +darkness, was suddenly lit up by a new brightness, full of significance.\ +\ +Princess Mary grew quite unconscious of her face and coiffure. The\ +handsome open face of the man who might perhaps be her husband absorbed\ +all her attention. He seemed to her kind, brave, determined, manly, and\ +magnanimous. She felt convinced of that. Thousands of dreams of a future\ +family life continually rose in her imagination. She drove them away and\ +tried to conceal them.\ +\ +"But am I not too cold with him?" thought the princess. "I try to be\ +reserved because in the depth of my soul I feel too near to him already,\ +but then he cannot know what I think of him and may imagine that I do\ +not like him."\ +\ +And Princess Mary tried, but could not manage, to be cordial to her new\ +guest. "Poor girl, she's devilish ugly!" thought Anatole.\ +\ +Mademoiselle Bourienne, also roused to great excitement by Anatole's\ +arrival, thought in another way. Of course, she, a handsome young woman\ +without any definite position, without relations or even a country, did\ +not intend to devote her life to serving Prince Bolkonski, to reading\ +aloud to him and being friends with Princess Mary. Mademoiselle\ +Bourienne had long been waiting for a Russian prince who, able to\ +appreciate at a glance her superiority to the plain, badly dressed,\ +ungainly Russian princesses, would fall in love with her and carry her\ +off; and here at last was a Russian prince. Mademoiselle Bourienne knew\ +a story, heard from her aunt but finished in her own way, which she\ +liked to repeat to herself. It was the story of a girl who had been\ +seduced, and to whom her poor mother (sa pauvre mere) appeared, and\ +reproached her for yielding to a man without being married. Mademoiselle\ +Bourienne was often touched to tears as in imagination she told this\ +story to him, her seducer. And now he, a real Russian prince, had\ +appeared. He would carry her away and then sa pauvre mere would appear\ +and he would marry her. So her future shaped itself in Mademoiselle\ +Bourienne's head at the very time she was talking to Anatole about\ +Paris. It was not calculation that guided her (she did not even for a\ +moment consider what she should do), but all this had long been familiar\ +to her, and now that Anatole had appeared it just grouped itself around\ +him and she wished and tried to please him as much as possible.\ +\ +The little princess, like an old war horse that hears the trumpet,\ +unconsciously and quite forgetting her condition, prepared for the\ +familiar gallop of coquetry, without any ulterior motive or any\ +struggle, but with naive and lighthearted gaiety.\ +\ +Although in female society Anatole usually assumed the role of a man\ +tired of being run after by women, his vanity was flattered by the\ +spectacle of his power over these three women. Besides that, he was\ +beginning to feel for the pretty and provocative Mademoiselle Bourienne\ +that passionate animal feeling which was apt to master him with great\ +suddenness and prompt him to the coarsest and most reckless actions.\ +\ +After tea, the company went into the sitting room and Princess Mary was\ +asked to play on the clavichord. Anatole, laughing and in high spirits,\ +came and leaned on his elbows, facing her and beside Mademoiselle\ +Bourienne. Princess Mary felt his look with a painfully joyous emotion.\ +Her favorite sonata bore her into a most intimately poetic world and the\ +look she felt upon her made that world still more poetic. But Anatole's\ +expression, though his eyes were fixed on her, referred not to her but\ +to the movements of Mademoiselle Bourienne's little foot, which he was\ +then touching with his own under the clavichord. Mademoiselle Bourienne\ +was also looking at Princess Mary, and in her lovely eyes there was a\ +look of fearful joy and hope that was also new to the princess.\ +\ +"How she loves me!" thought Princess Mary. "How happy I am now, and how\ +happy I may be with such a friend and such a husband! Husband? Can it be\ +possible?" she thought, not daring to look at his face, but still\ +feeling his eyes gazing at her.\ +\ +In the evening, after supper, when all were about to retire, Anatole\ +kissed Princess Mary's hand. She did not know how she found the courage,\ +but she looked straight into his handsome face as it came near to her\ +shortsighted eyes. Turning from Princess Mary he went up and kissed\ +Mademoiselle Bourienne's hand. (This was not etiquette, but then he did\ +everything so simply and with such assurance!) Mademoiselle Bourienne\ +flushed, and gave the princess a frightened look.\ +\ +"What delicacy!" thought the princess. "Is it possible that Amelie"\ +(Mademoiselle Bourienne) "thinks I could be jealous of her, and not\ +value her pure affection and devotion to me?" She went up to her and\ +kissed her warmly. Anatole went up to kiss the little princess' hand.\ +\ +"No! No! No! When your father writes to tell me that you are behaving\ +well I will give you my hand to kiss. Not till then!" she said. And\ +smilingly raising a finger at him, she left the room.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER V\ +\ +They all separated, but, except Anatole who fell asleep as soon as he\ +got into bed, all kept awake a long time that night.\ +\ +"Is he really to be my husband, this stranger who is so kind--yes, kind,\ +that is the chief thing," thought Princess Mary; and fear, which she had\ +seldom experienced, came upon her. She feared to look round, it seemed\ +to her that someone was there standing behind the screen in the dark\ +corner. And this someone was he--the devil--and he was also this man\ +with the white forehead, black eyebrows, and red lips.\ +\ +She rang for her maid and asked her to sleep in her room.\ +\ +Mademoiselle Bourienne walked up and down the conservatory for a long\ +time that evening, vainly expecting someone, now smiling at someone, now\ +working herself up to tears with the imaginary words of her pauvre mere\ +rebuking her for her fall.\ +\ +The little princess grumbled to her maid that her bed was badly made.\ +She could not lie either on her face or on her side. Every position was\ +awkward and uncomfortable, and her burden oppressed her now more than\ +ever because Anatole's presence had vividly recalled to her the time\ +when she was not like that and when everything was light and gay. She\ +sat in an armchair in her dressing jacket and nightcap and Katie, sleepy\ +and disheveled, beat and turned the heavy feather bed for the third\ +time, muttering to herself.\ +\ +"I told you it was all lumps and holes!" the little princess repeated.\ +"I should be glad enough to fall asleep, so it's not my fault!" and her\ +voice quivered like that of a child about to cry.\ +\ +The old prince did not sleep either. Tikhon, half asleep, heard him\ +pacing angrily about and snorting. The old prince felt as though he had\ +been insulted through his daughter. The insult was the more pointed\ +because it concerned not himself but another, his daughter, whom he\ +loved more than himself. He kept telling himself that he would consider\ +the whole matter and decide what was right and how he should act, but\ +instead of that he only excited himself more and more.\ +\ +"The first man that turns up--she forgets her father and everything\ +else, runs upstairs and does up her hair and wags her tail and is unlike\ +herself! Glad to throw her father over! And she knew I should notice it.\ +Fr... fr... fr! And don't I see that that idiot had eyes only for\ +Bourienne--I shall have to get rid of her. And how is it she has not\ +pride enough to see it? If she has no pride for herself she might at\ +least have some for my sake! She must be shown that the blockhead thinks\ +nothing of her and looks only at Bourienne. No, she has no pride... but\ +I'll let her see...."\ +\ +The old prince knew that if he told his daughter she was making a\ +mistake and that Anatole meant to flirt with Mademoiselle Bourienne,\ +Princess Mary's self-esteem would be wounded and his point (not to be\ +parted from her) would be gained, so pacifying himself with this\ +thought, he called Tikhon and began to undress.\ +\ +"What devil brought them here?" thought he, while Tikhon was putting the\ +nightshirt over his dried-up old body and gray-haired chest. "I never\ +invited them. They came to disturb my life--and there is not much of it\ +left."\ +\ +"Devil take 'em!" he muttered, while his head was still covered by the\ +shirt.\ +\ +Tikhon knew his master's habit of sometimes thinking aloud, and\ +therefore met with unaltered looks the angrily inquisitive expression of\ +the face that emerged from the shirt.\ +\ +"Gone to bed?" asked the prince.\ +\ +Tikhon, like all good valets, instinctively knew the direction of his\ +master's thoughts. He guessed that the question referred to Prince\ +Vasili and his son.\ +\ +"They have gone to bed and put out their lights, your excellency."\ +\ +"No good... no good..." said the prince rapidly, and thrusting his feet\ +into his slippers and his arms into the sleeves of his dressing gown, he\ +went to the couch on which he slept.\ +\ +Though no words had passed between Anatole and Mademoiselle Bourienne,\ +they quite understood one another as to the first part of their romance,\ +up to the appearance of the pauvre mere; they understood that they had\ +much to say to one another in private and so they had been seeking an\ +opportunity since morning to meet one another alone. When Princess Mary\ +went to her father's room at the usual hour, Mademoiselle Bourienne and\ +Anatole met in the conservatory.\ +\ +Princess Mary went to the door of the study with special trepidation. It\ +seemed to her that not only did everybody know that her fate would be\ +decided that day, but that they also knew what she thought about it. She\ +read this in Tikhon's face and in that of Prince Vasili's valet, who\ +made her a low bow when she met him in the corridor carrying hot water.\ +\ +The old prince was very affectionate and careful in his treatment of his\ +daughter that morning. Princess Mary well knew this painstaking\ +expression of her father's. His face wore that expression when his dry\ +hands clenched with vexation at her not understanding a sum in\ +arithmetic, when rising from his chair he would walk away from her,\ +repeating in a low voice the same words several times over.\ +\ +He came to the point at once, treating her ceremoniously.\ +\ +"I have had a proposition made me concerning you," he said with an\ +unnatural smile. "I expect you have guessed that Prince Vasili has not\ +come and brought his pupil with him" (for some reason Prince Bolkonski\ +referred to Anatole as a "pupil") "for the sake of my beautiful eyes.\ +Last night a proposition was made me on your account and, as you know my\ +principles, I refer it to you."\ +\ +"How am I to understand you, mon pere?" said the princess, growing pale\ +and then blushing.\ +\ +"How understand me!" cried her father angrily. "Prince Vasili finds you\ +to his taste as a daughter-in-law and makes a proposal to you on his\ +pupil's behalf. That's how it's to be understood! 'How understand\ +it'!... And I ask you!"\ +\ +"I do not know what you think, Father," whispered the princess.\ +\ +"I? I? What of me? Leave me out of the question. I'm not going to get\ +married. What about you? That's what I want to know."\ +\ +The princess saw that her father regarded the matter with disapproval,\ +but at that moment the thought occurred to her that her fate would be\ +decided now or never. She lowered her eyes so as not to see the gaze\ +under which she felt that she could not think, but would only be able to\ +submit from habit, and she said: "I wish only to do your will, but if I\ +had to express my own desire..." She had no time to finish. The old\ +prince interrupted her.\ +\ +"That's admirable!" he shouted. "He will take you with your dowry and\ +take Mademoiselle Bourienne into the bargain. She'll be the wife, while\ +you..."\ +\ +The prince stopped. He saw the effect these words had produced on his\ +daughter. She lowered her head and was ready to burst into tears.\ +\ +"Now then, now then, I'm only joking!" he said. "Remember this,\ +Princess, I hold to the principle that a maiden has a full right to\ +choose. I give you freedom. Only remember that your life's happiness\ +depends on your decision. Never mind me!"\ +\ +"But I do not know, Father!"\ +\ +"There's no need to talk! He receives his orders and will marry you or\ +anybody; but you are free to choose.... Go to your room, think it over,\ +and come back in an hour and tell me in his presence: yes or no. I know\ +you will pray over it. Well, pray if you like, but you had better think\ +it over. Go! Yes or no, yes or no, yes or no!" he still shouted when the\ +princess, as if lost in a fog, had already staggered out of the study.\ +\ +Her fate was decided and happily decided. But what her father had said\ +about Mademoiselle Bourienne was dreadful. It was untrue to be sure, but\ +still it was terrible, and she could not help thinking of it. She was\ +going straight on through the conservatory, neither seeing nor hearing\ +anything, when suddenly the well-known whispering of Mademoiselle\ +Bourienne aroused her. She raised her eyes, and two steps away saw\ +Anatole embracing the Frenchwoman and whispering something to her. With\ +a horrified expression on his handsome face, Anatole looked at Princess\ +Mary, but did not at once take his arm from the waist of Mademoiselle\ +Bourienne who had not yet seen her.\ +\ +"Who's that? Why? Wait a moment!" Anatole's face seemed to say. Princess\ +Mary looked at them in silence. She could not understand it. At last\ +Mademoiselle Bourienne gave a scream and ran away. Anatole bowed to\ +Princess Mary with a gay smile, as if inviting her to join in a laugh at\ +this strange incident, and then shrugging his shoulders went to the door\ +that led to his own apartments.\ +\ +An hour later, Tikhon came to call Princess Mary to the old prince; he\ +added that Prince Vasili was also there. When Tikhon came to her\ +Princess Mary was sitting on the sofa in her room, holding the weeping\ +Mademoiselle Bourienne in her arms and gently stroking her hair. The\ +princess' beautiful eyes with all their former calm radiance were\ +looking with tender affection and pity at Mademoiselle Bourienne's\ +pretty face.\ +\ +"No, Princess, I have lost your affection forever!" said Mademoiselle\ +Bourienne.\ +\ +"Why? I love you more than ever," said Princess Mary, "and I will try to\ +do all I can for your happiness."\ +\ +"But you despise me. You who are so pure can never understand being so\ +carried away by passion. Oh, only my poor mother..."\ +\ +"I quite understand," answered Princess Mary, with a sad smile. "Calm\ +yourself, my dear. I will go to my father," she said, and went out.\ +\ +Prince Vasili, with one leg thrown high over the other and a snuffbox in\ +his hand, was sitting there with a smile of deep emotion on his face, as\ +if stirred to his heart's core and himself regretting and laughing at\ +his own sensibility, when Princess Mary entered. He hurriedly took a\ +pinch of snuff.\ +\ +"Ah, my dear, my dear!" he began, rising and taking her by both hands.\ +Then, sighing, he added: "My son's fate is in your hands. Decide, my\ +dear, good, gentle Marie, whom I have always loved as a daughter!"\ +\ +He drew back and a real tear appeared in his eye.\ +\ +"Fr... fr..." snorted Prince Bolkonski. "The prince is making a\ +proposition to you in his pupil's--I mean, his son's--name. Do you wish\ +or not to be Prince Anatole Kuragin's wife? Reply: yes or no," he\ +shouted, "and then I shall reserve the right to state my opinion also.\ +Yes, my opinion, and only my opinion," added Prince Bolkonski, turning\ +to Prince Vasili and answering his imploring look. "Yes, or no?"\ +\ +"My desire is never to leave you, Father, never to separate my life from\ +yours. I don't wish to marry," she answered positively, glancing at\ +Prince Vasili and at her father with her beautiful eyes.\ +\ +"Humbug! Nonsense! Humbug, humbug, humbug!" cried Prince Bolkonski,\ +frowning and taking his daughter's hand; he did not kiss her, but only\ +bending his forehead to hers just touched it, and pressed her hand so\ +that she winced and uttered a cry.\ +\ +Prince Vasili rose.\ +\ +"My dear, I must tell you that this is a moment I shall never, never\ +forget. But, my dear, will you not give us a little hope of touching\ +this heart, so kind and generous? Say 'perhaps'... The future is so\ +long. Say 'perhaps.'"\ +\ +"Prince, what I have said is all there is in my heart. I thank you for\ +the honor, but I shall never be your son's wife."\ +\ +"Well, so that's finished, my dear fellow! I am very glad to have seen\ +you. Very glad! Go back to your rooms, Princess. Go!" said the old\ +prince. "Very, very glad to have seen you," repeated he, embracing\ +Prince Vasili.\ +\ +"My vocation is a different one," thought Princess Mary. "My vocation is\ +to be happy with another kind of happiness, the happiness of love and\ +self-sacrifice. And cost what it may, I will arrange poor Amelie's\ +happiness, she loves him so passionately, and so passionately repents. I\ +will do all I can to arrange the match between them. If he is not rich I\ +will give her the means; I will ask my father and Andrew. I shall be so\ +happy when she is his wife. She is so unfortunate, a stranger, alone,\ +helpless! And, oh God, how passionately she must love him if she could\ +so far forget herself! Perhaps I might have done the same!..." thought\ +Princess Mary.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER VI\ +\ +It was long since the Rostovs had news of Nicholas. Not till midwinter\ +was the count at last handed a letter addressed in his son's\ +handwriting. On receiving it, he ran on tiptoe to his study in alarm and\ +haste, trying to escape notice, closed the door, and began to read the\ +letter.\ +\ +Anna Mikhaylovna, who always knew everything that passed in the house,\ +on hearing of the arrival of the letter went softly into the room and\ +found the count with it in his hand, sobbing and laughing at the same\ +time.\ +\ +Anna Mikhaylovna, though her circumstances had improved, was still\ +living with the Rostovs.\ +\ +"My dear friend?" said she, in a tone of pathetic inquiry, prepared to\ +sympathize in any way.\ +\ +The count sobbed yet more.\ +\ +"Nikolenka... a letter... wa... a... s... wounded... my darling boy...\ +the countess... promoted to be an officer... thank God... How tell the\ +little countess!"\ +\ +Anna Mikhaylovna sat down beside him, with her own handkerchief wiped\ +the tears from his eyes and from the letter, then having dried her own\ +eyes she comforted the count, and decided that at dinner and till\ +teatime she would prepare the countess, and after tea, with God's help,\ +would inform her.\ +\ +At dinner Anna Mikhaylovna talked the whole time about the war news and\ +about Nikolenka, twice asked when the last letter had been received from\ +him, though she knew that already, and remarked that they might very\ +likely be getting a letter from him that day. Each time that these hints\ +began to make the countess anxious and she glanced uneasily at the count\ +and at Anna Mikhaylovna, the latter very adroitly turned the\ +conversation to insignificant matters. Natasha, who, of the whole\ +family, was the most gifted with a capacity to feel any shades of\ +intonation, look, and expression, pricked up her ears from the beginning\ +of the meal and was certain that there was some secret between her\ +father and Anna Mikhaylovna, that it had something to do with her\ +brother, and that Anna Mikhaylovna was preparing them for it. Bold as\ +she was, Natasha, who knew how sensitive her mother was to anything\ +relating to Nikolenka, did not venture to ask any questions at dinner,\ +but she was too excited to eat anything and kept wriggling about on her\ +chair regardless of her governess' remarks. After dinner, she rushed\ +head long after Anna Mikhaylovna and, dashing at her, flung herself on\ +her neck as soon as she overtook her in the sitting room.\ +\ +"Auntie, darling, do tell me what it is!"\ +\ +"Nothing, my dear."\ +\ +"No, dearest, sweet one, honey, I won't give up--I know you know\ +something."\ +\ +Anna Mikhaylovna shook her head.\ +\ +"You are a little slyboots," she said.\ +\ +"A letter from Nikolenka! I'm sure of it!" exclaimed Natasha, reading\ +confirmation in Anna Mikhaylovna's face.\ +\ +"But for God's sake, be careful, you know how it may affect your mamma."\ +\ +"I will, I will, only tell me! You won't? Then I will go and tell at\ +once."\ +\ +Anna Mikhaylovna, in a few words, told her the contents of the letter,\ +on condition that she should tell no one.\ +\ +"No, on my true word of honor," said Natasha, crossing herself, "I won't\ +tell anyone!" and she ran off at once to Sonya.\ +\ +"Nikolenka... wounded... a letter," she announced in gleeful triumph.\ +\ +"Nicholas!" was all Sonya said, instantly turning white.\ +\ +Natasha, seeing the impression the news of her brother's wound produced\ +on Sonya, felt for the first time the sorrowful side of the news.\ +\ +She rushed to Sonya, hugged her, and began to cry.\ +\ +"A little wound, but he has been made an officer; he is well now, he\ +wrote himself," said she through her tears.\ +\ +"There now! It's true that all you women are crybabies," remarked Petya,\ +pacing the room with large, resolute strides. "Now I'm very glad, very\ +glad indeed, that my brother has distinguished himself so. You are all\ +blubberers and understand nothing."\ +\ +Natasha smiled through her tears.\ +\ +"You haven't read the letter?" asked Sonya.\ +\ +"No, but she said that it was all over and that he's now an officer."\ +\ +"Thank God!" said Sonya, crossing herself. "But perhaps she deceived\ +you. Let us go to Mamma."\ +\ +Petya paced the room in silence for a time.\ +\ +"If I'd been in Nikolenka's place I would have killed even more of those\ +Frenchmen," he said. "What nasty brutes they are! I'd have killed so\ +many that there'd have been a heap of them."\ +\ +"Hold your tongue, Petya, what a goose you are!"\ +\ +"I'm not a goose, but they are who cry about trifles," said Petya.\ +\ +"Do you remember him?" Natasha suddenly asked, after a moment's silence.\ +\ +Sonya smiled.\ +\ +"Do I remember Nicholas?"\ +\ +"No, Sonya, but do you remember so that you remember him perfectly,\ +remember everything?" said Natasha, with an expressive gesture,\ +evidently wishing to give her words a very definite meaning. "I remember\ +Nikolenka too, I remember him well," she said. "But I don't remember\ +Boris. I don't remember him a bit."\ +\ +"What! You don't remember Boris?" asked Sonya in surprise.\ +\ +"It's not that I don't remember--I know what he is like, but not as I\ +remember Nikolenka. Him--I just shut my eyes and remember, but Boris...\ +No!" (She shut her eyes.) "No! there's nothing at all."\ +\ +"Oh, Natasha!" said Sonya, looking ecstatically and earnestly at her\ +friend as if she did not consider her worthy to hear what she meant to\ +say and as if she were saying it to someone else, with whom joking was\ +out of the question, "I am in love with your brother once for all and,\ +whatever may happen to him or to me, shall never cease to love him as\ +long as I live."\ +\ +Natasha looked at Sonya with wondering and inquisitive eyes, and said\ +nothing. She felt that Sonya was speaking the truth, that there was such\ +love as Sonya was speaking of. But Natasha had not yet felt anything\ +like it. She believed it could be, but did not understand it.\ +\ +"Shall you write to him?" she asked.\ +\ +Sonya became thoughtful. The question of how to write to Nicholas, and\ +whether she ought to write, tormented her. Now that he was already an\ +officer and a wounded hero, would it be right to remind him of herself\ +and, as it might seem, of the obligations to her he had taken on\ +himself?\ +\ +"I don't know. I think if he writes, I will write too," she said,\ +blushing.\ +\ +"And you won't feel ashamed to write to him?"\ +\ +Sonya smiled.\ +\ +"No."\ +\ +"And I should be ashamed to write to Boris. I'm not going to."\ +\ +"Why should you be ashamed?"\ +\ +"Well, I don't know. It's awkward and would make me ashamed."\ +\ +"And I know why she'd be ashamed," said Petya, offended by Natasha's\ +previous remark. "It's because she was in love with that fat one in\ +spectacles" (that was how Petya described his namesake, the new Count\ +Bezukhov) "and now she's in love with that singer" (he meant Natasha's\ +Italian singing master), "that's why she's ashamed!"\ +\ +"Petya, you're a stupid!" said Natasha.\ +\ +"Not more stupid than you, madam," said the nine-year-old Petya, with\ +the air of an old brigadier.\ +\ +The countess had been prepared by Anna Mikhaylovna's hints at dinner. On\ +retiring to her own room, she sat in an armchair, her eyes fixed on a\ +miniature portrait of her son on the lid of a snuffbox, while the tears\ +kept coming into her eyes. Anna Mikhaylovna, with the letter, came on\ +tiptoe to the countess' door and paused.\ +\ +"Don't come in," she said to the old count who was following her. "Come\ +later." And she went in, closing the door behind her.\ +\ +The count put his ear to the keyhole and listened.\ +\ +At first he heard the sound of indifferent voices, then Anna\ +Mikhaylovna's voice alone in a long speech, then a cry, then silence,\ +then both voices together with glad intonations, and then footsteps.\ +Anna Mikhaylovna opened the door. Her face wore the proud expression of\ +a surgeon who has just performed a difficult operation and admits the\ +public to appreciate his skill.\ +\ +"It is done!" she said to the count, pointing triumphantly to the\ +countess, who sat holding in one hand the snuffbox with its portrait and\ +in the other the letter, and pressing them alternately to her lips.\ +\ +When she saw the count, she stretched out her arms to him, embraced his\ +bald head, over which she again looked at the letter and the portrait,\ +and in order to press them again to her lips, she slightly pushed away\ +the bald head. Vera, Natasha, Sonya, and Petya now entered the room, and\ +the reading of the letter began. After a brief description of the\ +campaign and the two battles in which he had taken part, and his\ +promotion, Nicholas said that he kissed his father's and mother's hands\ +asking for their blessing, and that he kissed Vera, Natasha, and Petya.\ +Besides that, he sent greetings to Monsieur Schelling, Madame Schoss,\ +and his old nurse, and asked them to kiss for him "dear Sonya, whom he\ +loved and thought of just the same as ever." When she heard this Sonya\ +blushed so that tears came into her eyes and, unable to bear the looks\ +turned upon her, ran away into the dancing hall, whirled round it at\ +full speed with her dress puffed out like a balloon, and, flushed and\ +smiling, plumped down on the floor. The countess was crying.\ +\ +"Why are you crying, Mamma?" asked Vera. "From all he says one should be\ +glad and not cry."\ +\ +This was quite true, but the count, the countess, and Natasha looked at\ +her reproachfully. "And who is it she takes after?" thought the\ +countess.\ +\ +Nicholas' letter was read over hundreds of times, and those who were\ +considered worthy to hear it had to come to the countess, for she did\ +not let it out of her hands. The tutors came, and the nurses, and\ +Dmitri, and several acquaintances, and the countess reread the letter\ +each time with fresh pleasure and each time discovered in it fresh\ +proofs of Nikolenka's virtues. How strange, how extraordinary, how\ +joyful it seemed, that her son, the scarcely perceptible motion of whose\ +tiny limbs she had felt twenty years ago within her, that son about whom\ +she used to have quarrels with the too indulgent count, that son who had\ +first learned to say "pear" and then "granny," that this son should now\ +be away in a foreign land amid strange surroundings, a manly warrior\ +doing some kind of man's work of his own, without help or guidance. The\ +universal experience of ages, showing that children do grow\ +imperceptibly from the cradle to manhood, did not exist for the\ +countess. Her son's growth toward manhood, at each of its stages, had\ +seemed as extraordinary to her as if there had never existed the\ +millions of human beings who grew up in the same way. As twenty years\ +before, it seemed impossible that the little creature who lived\ +somewhere under her heart would ever cry, suck her breast, and begin to\ +speak, so now she could not believe that that little creature could be\ +this strong, brave man, this model son and officer that, judging by this\ +letter, he now was.\ +\ +"What a style! How charmingly he describes!" said she, reading the\ +descriptive part of the letter. "And what a soul! Not a word about\ +himself.... Not a word! About some Denisov or other, though he himself,\ +I dare say, is braver than any of them. He says nothing about his\ +sufferings. What a heart! How like him it is! And how he has remembered\ +everybody! Not forgetting anyone. I always said when he was only so\ +high--I always said...."\ +\ +For more than a week preparations were being made, rough drafts of\ +letters to Nicholas from all the household were written and copied out,\ +while under the supervision of the countess and the solicitude of the\ +count, money and all things necessary for the uniform and equipment of\ +the newly commissioned officer were collected. Anna Mikhaylovna,\ +practical woman that she was, had even managed by favor with army\ +authorities to secure advantageous means of communication for herself\ +and her son. She had opportunities of sending her letters to the Grand\ +Duke Constantine Pavlovich, who commanded the Guards. The Rostovs\ +supposed that The Russian Guards, Abroad, was quite a definite address,\ +and that if a letter reached the Grand Duke in command of the Guards\ +there was no reason why it should not reach the Pavlograd regiment,\ +which was presumably somewhere in the same neighborhood. And so it was\ +decided to send the letters and money by the Grand Duke's courier to\ +Boris and Boris was to forward them to Nicholas. The letters were from\ +the old count, the countess, Petya, Vera, Natasha, and Sonya, and\ +finally there were six thousand rubles for his outfit and various other\ +things the old count sent to his son.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER VII\ +\ +On the twelfth of November, Kutuzov's active army, in camp before\ +Olmutz, was preparing to be reviewed next day by the two Emperors--the\ +Russian and the Austrian. The Guards, just arrived from Russia, spent\ +the night ten miles from Olmutz and next morning were to come straight\ +to the review, reaching the field at Olmutz by ten o'clock.\ +\ +That day Nicholas Rostov received a letter from Boris, telling him that\ +the Ismaylov regiment was quartered for the night ten miles from Olmutz\ +and that he wanted to see him as he had a letter and money for him.\ +Rostov was particularly in need of money now that the troops, after\ +their active service, were stationed near Olmutz and the camp swarmed\ +with well-provisioned sutlers and Austrian Jews offering all sorts of\ +tempting wares. The Pavlograds held feast after feast, celebrating\ +awards they had received for the campaign, and made expeditions to\ +Olmutz to visit a certain Caroline the Hungarian, who had recently\ +opened a restaurant there with girls as waitresses. Rostov, who had just\ +celebrated his promotion to a cornetcy and bought Denisov's horse,\ +Bedouin, was in debt all round, to his comrades and the sutlers. On\ +receiving Boris' letter he rode with a fellow officer to Olmutz, dined\ +there, drank a bottle of wine, and then set off alone to the Guards'\ +camp to find his old playmate. Rostov had not yet had time to get his\ +uniform. He had on a shabby cadet jacket, decorated with a soldier's\ +cross, equally shabby cadet's riding breeches lined with worn leather,\ +and an officer's saber with a sword knot. The Don horse he was riding\ +was one he had bought from a Cossack during the campaign, and he wore a\ +crumpled hussar cap stuck jauntily back on one side of his head. As he\ +rode up to the camp he thought how he would impress Boris and all his\ +comrades of the Guards by his appearance--that of a fighting hussar who\ +had been under fire.\ +\ +The Guards had made their whole march as if on a pleasure trip, parading\ +their cleanliness and discipline. They had come by easy stages, their\ +knapsacks conveyed on carts, and the Austrian authorities had provided\ +excellent dinners for the officers at every halting place. The regiments\ +had entered and left the town with their bands playing, and by the Grand\ +Duke's orders the men had marched all the way in step (a practice on\ +which the Guards prided themselves), the officers on foot and at their\ +proper posts. Boris had been quartered, and had marched all the way,\ +with Berg who was already in command of a company. Berg, who had\ +obtained his captaincy during the campaign, had gained the confidence of\ +his superiors by his promptitude and accuracy and had arranged his money\ +matters very satisfactorily. Boris, during the campaign, had made the\ +acquaintance of many persons who might prove useful to him, and by a\ +letter of recommendation he had brought from Pierre had become\ +acquainted with Prince Andrew Bolkonski, through whom he hoped to obtain\ +a post on the commander-in-chief's staff. Berg and Boris, having rested\ +after yesterday's march, were sitting, clean and neatly dressed, at a\ +round table in the clean quarters allotted to them, playing chess. Berg\ +held a smoking pipe between his knees. Boris, in the accurate way\ +characteristic of him, was building a little pyramid of chessmen with\ +his delicate white fingers while awaiting Berg's move, and watched his\ +opponent's face, evidently thinking about the game as he always thought\ +only of whatever he was engaged on.\ +\ +"Well, how are you going to get out of that?" he remarked.\ +\ +"We'll try to," replied Berg, touching a pawn and then removing his\ +hand.\ +\ +At that moment the door opened.\ +\ +"Here he is at last!" shouted Rostov. "And Berg too! Oh, you\ +petisenfans, allay cushay dormir!" he exclaimed, imitating his Russian\ +nurse's French, at which he and Boris used to laugh long ago.\ +\ +"Dear me, how you have changed!"\ +\ +Boris rose to meet Rostov, but in doing so did not omit to steady and\ +replace some chessmen that were falling. He was about to embrace his\ +friend, but Nicholas avoided him. With that peculiar feeling of youth,\ +that dread of beaten tracks, and wish to express itself in a manner\ +different from that of its elders which is often insincere, Nicholas\ +wished to do something special on meeting his friend. He wanted to pinch\ +him, push him, do anything but kiss him--a thing everybody did. But\ +notwithstanding this, Boris embraced him in a quiet, friendly way and\ +kissed him three times.\ +\ +They had not met for nearly half a year and, being at the age when young\ +men take their first steps on life's road, each saw immense changes in\ +the other, quite a new reflection of the society in which they had taken\ +those first steps. Both had changed greatly since they last met and both\ +were in a hurry to show the changes that had taken place in them.\ +\ +"Oh, you damned dandies! Clean and fresh as if you'd been to a fete, not\ +like us sinners of the line," cried Rostov, with martial swagger and\ +with baritone notes in his voice, new to Boris, pointing to his own mud-\ +bespattered breeches. The German landlady, hearing Rostov's loud voice,\ +popped her head in at the door.\ +\ +"Eh, is she pretty?" he asked with a wink.\ +\ +"Why do you shout so? You'll frighten them!" said Boris. "I did not\ +expect you today," he added. "I only sent you the note yesterday by\ +Bolkonski--an adjutant of Kutuzov's, who's a friend of mine. I did not\ +think he would get it to you so quickly.... Well, how are you? Been\ +under fire already?" asked Boris.\ +\ +Without answering, Rostov shook the soldier's Cross of St. George\ +fastened to the cording of his uniform and, indicating a bandaged arm,\ +glanced at Berg with a smile.\ +\ +"As you see," he said.\ +\ +"Indeed? Yes, yes!" said Boris, with a smile. "And we too have had a\ +splendid march. You know, of course, that His Imperial Highness rode\ +with our regiment all the time, so that we had every comfort and every\ +advantage. What receptions we had in Poland! What dinners and balls! I\ +can't tell you. And the Tsarevich was very gracious to all our\ +officers."\ +\ +And the two friends told each other of their doings, the one of his\ +hussar revels and life in the fighting line, the other of the pleasures\ +and advantages of service under members of the Imperial family.\ +\ +"Oh, you Guards!" said Rostov. "I say, send for some wine."\ +\ +Boris made a grimace.\ +\ +"If you really want it," said he.\ +\ +He went to his bed, drew a purse from under the clean pillow, and sent\ +for wine.\ +\ +"Yes, and I have some money and a letter to give you," he added.\ +\ +Rostov took the letter and, throwing the money on the sofa, put both\ +arms on the table and began to read. After reading a few lines, he\ +glanced angrily at Berg, then, meeting his eyes, hid his face behind the\ +letter.\ +\ +"Well, they've sent you a tidy sum," said Berg, eying the heavy purse\ +that sank into the sofa. "As for us, Count, we get along on our pay. I\ +can tell you for myself..."\ +\ +"I say, Berg, my dear fellow," said Rostov, "when you get a letter from\ +home and meet one of your own people whom you want to talk everything\ +over with, and I happen to be there, I'll go at once, to be out of your\ +way! Do go somewhere, anywhere... to the devil!" he exclaimed, and\ +immediately seizing him by the shoulder and looking amiably into his\ +face, evidently wishing to soften the rudeness of his words, he added,\ +"Don't be hurt, my dear fellow; you know I speak from my heart as to an\ +old acquaintance."\ +\ +"Oh, don't mention it, Count! I quite understand," said Berg, getting up\ +and speaking in a muffled and guttural voice.\ +\ +"Go across to our hosts: they invited you," added Boris.\ +\ +Berg put on the cleanest of coats, without a spot or speck of dust,\ +stood before a looking glass and brushed the hair on his temples\ +upwards, in the way affected by the Emperor Alexander, and, having\ +assured himself from the way Rostov looked at it that his coat had been\ +noticed, left the room with a pleasant smile.\ +\ +"Oh dear, what a beast I am!" muttered Rostov, as he read the letter.\ +\ +"Why?"\ +\ +"Oh, what a pig I am, not to have written and to have given them such a\ +fright! Oh, what a pig I am!" he repeated, flushing suddenly. "Well,\ +have you sent Gabriel for some wine? All right let's have some!"\ +\ +In the letter from his parents was enclosed a letter of recommendation\ +to Bagration which the old countess at Anna Mikhaylovna's advice had\ +obtained through an acquaintance and sent to her son, asking him to take\ +it to its destination and make use of it.\ +\ +"What nonsense! Much I need it!" said Rostov, throwing the letter under\ +the table.\ +\ +"Why have you thrown that away?" asked Boris.\ +\ +"It is some letter of recommendation... what the devil do I want it\ +for!"\ +\ +"Why 'What the devil'?" said Boris, picking it up and reading the\ +address. "This letter would be of great use to you."\ +\ +"I want nothing, and I won't be anyone's adjutant."\ +\ +"Why not?" inquired Boris.\ +\ +"It's a lackey's job!"\ +\ +"You are still the same dreamer, I see," remarked Boris, shaking his\ +head.\ +\ +"And you're still the same diplomatist! But that's not the point...\ +Come, how are you?" asked Rostov.\ +\ +"Well, as you see. So far everything's all right, but I confess I should\ +much like to be an adjutant and not remain at the front."\ +\ +"Why?"\ +\ +"Because when once a man starts on military service, he should try to\ +make as successful a career of it as possible."\ +\ +"Oh, that's it!" said Rostov, evidently thinking of something else.\ +\ +He looked intently and inquiringly into his friend's eyes, evidently\ +trying in vain to find the answer to some question.\ +\ +Old Gabriel brought in the wine.\ +\ +"Shouldn't we now send for Berg?" asked Boris. "He would drink with you.\ +I can't."\ +\ +"Well, send for him... and how do you get on with that German?" asked\ +Rostov, with a contemptuous smile.\ +\ +"He is a very, very nice, honest, and pleasant fellow," answered Boris.\ +\ +Again Rostov looked intently into Boris' eyes and sighed. Berg returned,\ +and over the bottle of wine conversation between the three officers\ +became animated. The Guardsmen told Rostov of their march and how they\ +had been made much of in Russia, Poland, and abroad. They spoke of the\ +sayings and doings of their commander, the Grand Duke, and told stories\ +of his kindness and irascibility. Berg, as usual, kept silent when the\ +subject did not relate to himself, but in connection with the stories of\ +the Grand Duke's quick temper he related with gusto how in Galicia he\ +had managed to deal with the Grand Duke when the latter made a tour of\ +the regiments and was annoyed at the irregularity of a movement. With a\ +pleasant smile Berg related how the Grand Duke had ridden up to him in a\ +violent passion, shouting: "Arnauts!" ("Arnauts" was the Tsarevich's\ +favorite expression when he was in a rage) and called for the company\ +commander.\ +\ +"Would you believe it, Count, I was not at all alarmed, because I knew I\ +was right. Without boasting, you know, I may say that I know the Army\ +Orders by heart and know the Regulations as well as I do the Lord's\ +Prayer. So, Count, there never is any negligence in my company, and so\ +my conscience was at ease. I came forward...." (Berg stood up and showed\ +how he presented himself, with his hand to his cap, and really it would\ +have been difficult for a face to express greater respect and self-\ +complacency than his did.) "Well, he stormed at me, as the saying is,\ +stormed and stormed and stormed! It was not a matter of life but rather\ +of death, as the saying is. 'Albanians!' and 'devils!' and 'To\ +Siberia!'" said Berg with a sagacious smile. "I knew I was in the right\ +so I kept silent; was not that best, Count?... 'Hey, are you dumb?' he\ +shouted. Still I remained silent. And what do you think, Count? The next\ +day it was not even mentioned in the Orders of the Day. That's what\ +keeping one's head means. That's the way, Count," said Berg, lighting\ +his pipe and emitting rings of smoke.\ +\ +"Yes, that was fine," said Rostov, smiling.\ +\ +But Boris noticed that he was preparing to make fun of Berg, and\ +skillfully changed the subject. He asked him to tell them how and where\ +he got his wound. This pleased Rostov and he began talking about it, and\ +as he went on became more and more animated. He told them of his Schon\ +Grabern affair, just as those who have taken part in a battle generally\ +do describe it, that is, as they would like it to have been, as they\ +have heard it described by others, and as sounds well, but not at all as\ +it really was. Rostov was a truthful young man and would on no account\ +have told a deliberate lie. He began his story meaning to tell\ +everything just as it happened, but imperceptibly, involuntarily, and\ +inevitably he lapsed into falsehood. If he had told the truth to his\ +hearers--who like himself had often heard stories of attacks and had\ +formed a definite idea of what an attack was and were expecting to hear\ +just such a story--they would either not have believed him or, still\ +worse, would have thought that Rostov was himself to blame since what\ +generally happens to the narrators of cavalry attacks had not happened\ +to him. He could not tell them simply that everyone went at a trot and\ +that he fell off his horse and sprained his arm and then ran as hard as\ +he could from a Frenchman into the wood. Besides, to tell everything as\ +it really happened, it would have been necessary to make an effort of\ +will to tell only what happened. It is very difficult to tell the truth,\ +and young people are rarely capable of it. His hearers expected a story\ +of how beside himself and all aflame with excitement, he had flown like\ +a storm at the square, cut his way in, slashed right and left, how his\ +saber had tasted flesh and he had fallen exhausted, and so on. And so he\ +told them all that.\ +\ +In the middle of his story, just as he was saying: "You cannot imagine\ +what a strange frenzy one experiences during an attack," Prince Andrew,\ +whom Boris was expecting, entered the room. Prince Andrew, who liked to\ +help young men, was flattered by being asked for his assistance and\ +being well disposed toward Boris, who had managed to please him the day\ +before, he wished to do what the young man wanted. Having been sent with\ +papers from Kutuzov to the Tsarevich, he looked in on Boris, hoping to\ +find him alone. When he came in and saw an hussar of the line recounting\ +his military exploits (Prince Andrew could not endure that sort of man),\ +he gave Boris a pleasant smile, frowned as with half-closed eyes he\ +looked at Rostov, bowed slightly and wearily, and sat down languidly on\ +the sofa: he felt it unpleasant to have dropped in on bad company.\ +Rostov flushed up on noticing this, but he did not care, this was a mere\ +stranger. Glancing, however, at Boris, he saw that he too seemed ashamed\ +of the hussar of the line.\ +\ +In spite of Prince Andrew's disagreeable, ironical tone, in spite of the\ +contempt with which Rostov, from his fighting army point of view,\ +regarded all these little adjutants on the staff of whom the newcomer\ +was evidently one, Rostov felt confused, blushed, and became silent.\ +Boris inquired what news there might be on the staff, and what, without\ +indiscretion, one might ask about our plans.\ +\ +"We shall probably advance," replied Bolkonski, evidently reluctant to\ +say more in the presence of a stranger.\ +\ +Berg took the opportunity to ask, with great politeness, whether, as was\ +rumored, the allowance of forage money to captains of companies would be\ +doubled. To this Prince Andrew answered with a smile that he could give\ +no opinion on such an important government order, and Berg laughed\ +gaily.\ +\ +"As to your business," Prince Andrew continued, addressing Boris, "we\ +will talk of it later" (and he looked round at Rostov). "Come to me\ +after the review and we will do what is possible."\ +\ +And, having glanced round the room, Prince Andrew turned to Rostov,\ +whose state of unconquerable childish embarrassment now changing to\ +anger he did not condescend to notice, and said: "I think you were\ +talking of the Schon Grabern affair? Were you there?"\ +\ +"I was there," said Rostov angrily, as if intending to insult the aide-\ +de-camp.\ +\ +Bolkonski noticed the hussar's state of mind, and it amused him. With a\ +slightly contemptuous smile, he said: "Yes, there are many stories now\ +told about that affair!"\ +\ +"Yes, stories!" repeated Rostov loudly, looking with eyes suddenly grown\ +furious, now at Boris, now at Bolkonski. "Yes, many stories! But our\ +stories are the stories of men who have been under the enemy's fire! Our\ +stories have some weight, not like the stories of those fellows on the\ +staff who get rewards without doing anything!"\ +\ +"Of whom you imagine me to be one?" said Prince Andrew, with a quiet and\ +particularly amiable smile.\ +\ +A strange feeling of exasperation and yet of respect for this man's\ +self-possession mingled at that moment in Rostov's soul.\ +\ +"I am not talking about you," he said, "I don't know you and, frankly, I\ +don't want to. I am speaking of the staff in general."\ +\ +"And I will tell you this," Prince Andrew interrupted in a tone of quiet\ +authority, "you wish to insult me, and I am ready to agree with you that\ +it would be very easy to do so if you haven't sufficient self-respect,\ +but admit that the time and place are very badly chosen. In a day or two\ +we shall all have to take part in a greater and more serious duel, and\ +besides, Drubetskoy, who says he is an old friend of yours, is not at\ +all to blame that my face has the misfortune to displease you. However,"\ +he added rising, "you know my name and where to find me, but don't\ +forget that I do not regard either myself or you as having been at all\ +insulted, and as a man older than you, my advice is to let the matter\ +drop. Well then, on Friday after the review I shall expect you,\ +Drubetskoy. Au revoir!" exclaimed Prince Andrew, and with a bow to them\ +both he went out.\ +\ +Only when Prince Andrew was gone did Rostov think of what he ought to\ +have said. And he was still more angry at having omitted to say it. He\ +ordered his horse at once and, coldly taking leave of Boris, rode home.\ +Should he go to headquarters next day and challenge that affected\ +adjutant, or really let the matter drop, was the question that worried\ +him all the way. He thought angrily of the pleasure he would have at\ +seeing the fright of that small and frail but proud man when covered by\ +his pistol, and then he felt with surprise that of all the men he knew\ +there was none he would so much like to have for a friend as that very\ +adjutant whom he so hated.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER VIII\ +\ +The day after Rostov had been to see Boris, a review was held of the\ +Austrian and Russian troops, both those freshly arrived from Russia and\ +those who had been campaigning under Kutuzov. The two Emperors, the\ +Russian with his heir the Tsarevich, and the Austrian with the Archduke,\ +inspected the allied army of eighty thousand men.\ +\ +From early morning the smart clean troops were on the move, forming up\ +on the field before the fortress. Now thousands of feet and bayonets\ +moved and halted at the officers' command, turned with banners flying,\ +formed up at intervals, and wheeled round other similar masses of\ +infantry in different uniforms; now was heard the rhythmic beat of hoofs\ +and the jingling of showy cavalry in blue, red, and green braided\ +uniforms, with smartly dressed bandsmen in front mounted on black, roan,\ +or gray horses; then again, spreading out with the brazen clatter of the\ +polished shining cannon that quivered on the gun carriages and with the\ +smell of linstocks, came the artillery which crawled between the\ +infantry and cavalry and took up its appointed position. Not only the\ +generals in full parade uniforms, with their thin or thick waists drawn\ +in to the utmost, their red necks squeezed into their stiff collars, and\ +wearing scarves and all their decorations, not only the elegant, pomaded\ +officers, but every soldier with his freshly washed and shaven face and\ +his weapons clean and polished to the utmost, and every horse groomed\ +till its coat shone like satin and every hair of its wetted mane lay\ +smooth--felt that no small matter was happening, but an important and\ +solemn affair. Every general and every soldier was conscious of his own\ +insignificance, aware of being but a drop in that ocean of men, and yet\ +at the same time was conscious of his strength as a part of that\ +enormous whole.\ +\ +From early morning strenuous activities and efforts had begun and by ten\ +o'clock all had been brought into due order. The ranks were drawn up on\ +the vast field. The whole army was extended in three lines: the cavalry\ +in front, behind it the artillery, and behind that again the infantry.\ +\ +A space like a street was left between each two lines of troops. The\ +three parts of that army were sharply distinguished: Kutuzov's fighting\ +army (with the Pavlograds on the right flank of the front); those\ +recently arrived from Russia, both Guards and regiments of the line; and\ +the Austrian troops. But they all stood in the same lines, under one\ +command, and in a like order.\ +\ +Like wind over leaves ran an excited whisper: "They're coming! They're\ +coming!" Alarmed voices were heard, and a stir of final preparation\ +swept over all the troops.\ +\ +From the direction of Olmutz in front of them, a group was seen\ +approaching. And at that moment, though the day was still, a light gust\ +of wind blowing over the army slightly stirred the streamers on the\ +lances and the unfolded standards fluttered against their staffs. It\ +looked as if by that slight motion the army itself was expressing its\ +joy at the approach of the Emperors. One voice was heard shouting: "Eyes\ +front!" Then, like the crowing of cocks at sunrise, this was repeated by\ +others from various sides and all became silent.\ +\ +In the deathlike stillness only the tramp of horses was heard. This was\ +the Emperors' suites. The Emperors rode up to the flank, and the\ +trumpets of the first cavalry regiment played the general march. It\ +seemed as though not the trumpeters were playing, but as if the army\ +itself, rejoicing at the Emperors' approach, had naturally burst into\ +music. Amid these sounds, only the youthful kindly voice of the Emperor\ +Alexander was clearly heard. He gave the words of greeting, and the\ +first regiment roared "Hurrah!" so deafeningly, continuously, and\ +joyfully that the men themselves were awed by their multitude and the\ +immensity of the power they constituted.\ +\ +Rostov, standing in the front lines of Kutuzov's army which the Tsar\ +approached first, experienced the same feeling as every other man in\ +that army: a feeling of self-forgetfulness, a proud consciousness of\ +might, and a passionate attraction to him who was the cause of this\ +triumph.\ +\ +He felt that at a single word from that man all this vast mass (and he\ +himself an insignificant atom in it) would go through fire and water,\ +commit crime, die, or perform deeds of highest heroism, and so he could\ +not but tremble and his heart stand still at the imminence of that word.\ +\ +"Hurrah! Hurrah! Hurrah!" thundered from all sides, one regiment after\ +another greeting the Tsar with the strains of the march, and then\ +"Hurrah!"... Then the general march, and again "Hurrah! Hurrah!" growing\ +ever stronger and fuller and merging into a deafening roar.\ +\ +Till the Tsar reached it, each regiment in its silence and immobility\ +seemed like a lifeless body, but as soon as he came up it became alive,\ +its thunder joining the roar of the whole line along which he had\ +already passed. Through the terrible and deafening roar of those voices,\ +amid the square masses of troops standing motionless as if turned to\ +stone, hundreds of riders composing the suites moved carelessly but\ +symmetrically and above all freely, and in front of them two men--the\ +Emperors. Upon them the undivided, tensely passionate attention of that\ +whole mass of men was concentrated.\ +\ +The handsome young Emperor Alexander, in the uniform of the Horse\ +Guards, wearing a cocked hat with its peaks front and back, with his\ +pleasant face and resonant though not loud voice, attracted everyone's\ +attention.\ +\ +Rostov was not far from the trumpeters, and with his keen sight had\ +recognized the Tsar and watched his approach. When he was within twenty\ +paces, and Nicholas could clearly distinguish every detail of his\ +handsome, happy young face, he experienced a feeling of tenderness and\ +ecstasy such as he had never before known. Every trait and every\ +movement of the Tsar's seemed to him enchanting.\ +\ +Stopping in front of the Pavlograds, the Tsar said something in French\ +to the Austrian Emperor and smiled.\ +\ +Seeing that smile, Rostov involuntarily smiled himself and felt a still\ +stronger flow of love for his sovereign. He longed to show that love in\ +some way and knowing that this was impossible was ready to cry. The Tsar\ +called the colonel of the regiment and said a few words to him.\ +\ +"Oh God, what would happen to me if the Emperor spoke to me?" thought\ +Rostov. "I should die of happiness!"\ +\ +The Tsar addressed the officers also: "I thank you all, gentlemen, I\ +thank you with my whole heart." To Rostov every word sounded like a\ +voice from heaven. How gladly would he have died at once for his Tsar!\ +\ +"You have earned the St. George's standards and will be worthy of them."\ +\ +"Oh, to die, to die for him," thought Rostov.\ +\ +The Tsar said something more which Rostov did not hear, and the\ +soldiers, straining their lungs, shouted "Hurrah!"\ +\ +Rostov too, bending over his saddle, shouted "Hurrah!" with all his\ +might, feeling that he would like to injure himself by that shout, if\ +only to express his rapture fully.\ +\ +The Tsar stopped a few minutes in front of the hussars as if undecided.\ +\ +"How can the Emperor be undecided?" thought Rostov, but then even this\ +indecision appeared to him majestic and enchanting, like everything else\ +the Tsar did.\ +\ +That hesitation lasted only an instant. The Tsar's foot, in the narrow\ +pointed boot then fashionable, touched the groin of the bobtailed bay\ +mare he rode, his hand in a white glove gathered up the reins, and he\ +moved off accompanied by an irregularly swaying sea of aides-de-camp.\ +Farther and farther he rode away, stopping at other regiments, till at\ +last only his white plumes were visible to Rostov from amid the suites\ +that surrounded the Emperors.\ +\ +Among the gentlemen of the suite, Rostov noticed Bolkonski, sitting his\ +horse indolently and carelessly. Rostov recalled their quarrel of\ +yesterday and the question presented itself whether he ought or ought\ +not to challenge Bolkonski. "Of course not!" he now thought. "Is it\ +worth thinking or speaking of it at such a moment? At a time of such\ +love, such rapture, and such self-sacrifice, what do any of our quarrels\ +and affronts matter? I love and forgive everybody now."\ +\ +When the Emperor had passed nearly all the regiments, the troops began a\ +ceremonial march past him, and Rostov on Bedouin, recently purchased\ +from Denisov, rode past too, at the rear of his squadron--that is, alone\ +and in full view of the Emperor.\ +\ +Before he reached him, Rostov, who was a splendid horseman, spurred\ +Bedouin twice and successfully put him to the showy trot in which the\ +animal went when excited. Bending his foaming muzzle to his chest, his\ +tail extended, Bedouin, as if also conscious of the Emperor's eye upon\ +him, passed splendidly, lifting his feet with a high and graceful\ +action, as if flying through the air without touching the ground.\ +\ +Rostov himself, his legs well back and his stomach drawn in and feeling\ +himself one with his horse, rode past the Emperor with a frowning but\ +blissful face "like a vewy devil," as Denisov expressed it.\ +\ +"Fine fellows, the Pavlograds!" remarked the Emperor.\ +\ +"My God, how happy I should be if he ordered me to leap into the fire\ +this instant!" thought Rostov.\ +\ +When the review was over, the newly arrived officers, and also\ +Kutuzov's, collected in groups and began to talk about the awards, about\ +the Austrians and their uniforms, about their lines, about Bonaparte,\ +and how badly the latter would fare now, especially if the Essen corps\ +arrived and Prussia took our side.\ +\ +But the talk in every group was chiefly about the Emperor Alexander. His\ +every word and movement was described with ecstasy.\ +\ +They all had but one wish: to advance as soon as possible against the\ +enemy under the Emperor's command. Commanded by the Emperor himself they\ +could not fail to vanquish anyone, be it whom it might: so thought\ +Rostov and most of the officers after the review.\ +\ +All were then more confident of victory than the winning of two battles\ +would have made them.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER IX\ +\ +The day after the review, Boris, in his best uniform and with his\ +comrade Berg's best wishes for success, rode to Olmutz to see Bolkonski,\ +wishing to profit by his friendliness and obtain for himself the best\ +post he could--preferably that of adjutant to some important personage,\ +a position in the army which seemed to him most attractive. "It is all\ +very well for Rostov, whose father sends him ten thousand rubles at a\ +time, to talk about not wishing to cringe to anybody and not be anyone's\ +lackey, but I who have nothing but my brains have to make a career and\ +must not miss opportunities, but must avail myself of them!" he\ +reflected.\ +\ +He did not find Prince Andrew in Olmutz that day, but the appearance of\ +the town where the headquarters and the diplomatic corps were stationed\ +and the two Emperors were living with their suites, households, and\ +courts only strengthened his desire to belong to that higher world.\ +\ +He knew no one, and despite his smart Guardsman's uniform, all these\ +exalted personages passing in the streets in their elegant carriages\ +with their plumes, ribbons, and medals, both courtiers and military men,\ +seemed so immeasurably above him, an insignificant officer of the\ +Guards, that they not only did not wish to, but simply could not, be\ +aware of his existence. At the quarters of the commander-in-chief,\ +Kutuzov, where he inquired for Bolkonski, all the adjutants and even the\ +orderlies looked at him as if they wished to impress on him that a great\ +many officers like him were always coming there and that everybody was\ +heartily sick of them. In spite of this, or rather because of it, next\ +day, November 15, after dinner he again went to Olmutz and, entering the\ +house occupied by Kutuzov, asked for Bolkonski. Prince Andrew was in and\ +Boris was shown into a large hall probably formerly used for dancing,\ +but in which five beds now stood, and furniture of various kinds: a\ +table, chairs, and a clavichord. One adjutant, nearest the door, was\ +sitting at the table in a Persian dressing gown, writing. Another, the\ +red, stout Nesvitski, lay on a bed with his arms under his head,\ +laughing with an officer who had sat down beside him. A third was\ +playing a Viennese waltz on the clavichord, while a fourth, lying on the\ +clavichord, sang the tune. Bolkonski was not there. None of these\ +gentlemen changed his position on seeing Boris. The one who was writing\ +and whom Boris addressed turned round crossly and told him Bolkonski was\ +on duty and that he should go through the door on the left into the\ +reception room if he wished to see him. Boris thanked him and went to\ +the reception room, where he found some ten officers and generals.\ +\ +When he entered, Prince Andrew, his eyes drooping contemptuously (with\ +that peculiar expression of polite weariness which plainly says, "If it\ +were not my duty I would not talk to you for a moment"), was listening\ +to an old Russian general with decorations, who stood very erect, almost\ +on tiptoe, with a soldier's obsequious expression on his purple face,\ +reporting something.\ +\ +"Very well, then, be so good as to wait," said Prince Andrew to the\ +general, in Russian, speaking with the French intonation he affected\ +when he wished to speak contemptuously, and noticing Boris, Prince\ +Andrew, paying no more heed to the general who ran after him imploring\ +him to hear something more, nodded and turned to him with a cheerful\ +smile.\ +\ +At that moment Boris clearly realized what he had before surmised, that\ +in the army, besides the subordination and discipline prescribed in the\ +military code, which he and the others knew in the regiment, there was\ +another, more important, subordination, which made this tight-laced,\ +purple-faced general wait respectfully while Captain Prince Andrew, for\ +his own pleasure, chose to chat with Lieutenant Drubetskoy. More than\ +ever was Boris resolved to serve in future not according to the written\ +code, but under this unwritten law. He felt now that merely by having\ +been recommended to Prince Andrew he had already risen above the general\ +who at the front had the power to annihilate him, a lieutenant of the\ +Guards. Prince Andrew came up to him and took his hand.\ +\ +"I am very sorry you did not find me in yesterday. I was fussing about\ +with Germans all day. We went with Weyrother to survey the dispositions.\ +When Germans start being accurate, there's no end to it!"\ +\ +Boris smiled, as if he understood what Prince Andrew was alluding to as\ +something generally known. But it was the first time he had heard\ +Weyrother's name, or even the term "dispositions."\ +\ +"Well, my dear fellow, so you still want to be an adjutant? I have been\ +thinking about you."\ +\ +"Yes, I was thinking"--for some reason Boris could not help blushing--\ +"of asking the commander-in-chief. He has had a letter from Prince\ +Kuragin about me. I only wanted to ask because I fear the Guards won't\ +be in action," he added as if in apology.\ +\ +"All right, all right. We'll talk it over," replied Prince Andrew. "Only\ +let me report this gentleman's business, and I shall be at your\ +disposal."\ +\ +While Prince Andrew went to report about the purple-faced general, that\ +gentleman--evidently not sharing Boris' conception of the advantages of\ +the unwritten code of subordination--looked so fixedly at the\ +presumptuous lieutenant who had prevented his finishing what he had to\ +say to the adjutant that Boris felt uncomfortable. He turned away and\ +waited impatiently for Prince Andrew's return from the commander-in-\ +chief's room.\ +\ +"You see, my dear fellow, I have been thinking about you," said Prince\ +Andrew when they had gone into the large room where the clavichord was.\ +"It's no use your going to the commander-in-chief. He would say a lot of\ +pleasant things, ask you to dinner" ("That would not be bad as regards\ +the unwritten code," thought Boris), "but nothing more would come of it.\ +There will soon be a battalion of us aides-de-camp and adjutants! But\ +this is what we'll do: I have a good friend, an adjutant general and an\ +excellent fellow, Prince Dolgorukov; and though you may not know it, the\ +fact is that now Kutuzov with his staff and all of us count for nothing.\ +Everything is now centered round the Emperor. So we will go to\ +Dolgorukov; I have to go there anyhow and I have already spoken to him\ +about you. We shall see whether he cannot attach you to himself or find\ +a place for you somewhere nearer the sun."\ +\ +Prince Andrew always became specially keen when he had to guide a young\ +man and help him to worldly success. Under cover of obtaining help of\ +this kind for another, which from pride he would never accept for\ +himself, he kept in touch with the circle which confers success and\ +which attracted him. He very readily took up Boris' cause and went with\ +him to Dolgorukov.\ +\ +It was late in the evening when they entered the palace at Olmutz\ +occupied by the Emperors and their retinues.\ +\ +That same day a council of war had been held in which all the members of\ +the Hofkriegsrath and both Emperors took part. At that council, contrary\ +to the views of the old generals Kutuzov and Prince Schwartzenberg, it\ +had been decided to advance immediately and give battle to Bonaparte.\ +The council of war was just over when Prince Andrew accompanied by Boris\ +arrived at the palace to find Dolgorukov. Everyone at headquarters was\ +still under the spell of the day's council, at which the party of the\ +young had triumphed. The voices of those who counseled delay and advised\ +waiting for something else before advancing had been so completely\ +silenced and their arguments confuted by such conclusive evidence of the\ +advantages of attacking that what had been discussed at the council--the\ +coming battle and the victory that would certainly result from it--no\ +longer seemed to be in the future but in the past. All the advantages\ +were on our side. Our enormous forces, undoubtedly superior to\ +Napoleon's, were concentrated in one place, the troops inspired by the\ +Emperors' presence were eager for action. The strategic position where\ +the operations would take place was familiar in all its details to the\ +Austrian General Weyrother: a lucky accident had ordained that the\ +Austrian army should maneuver the previous year on the very fields where\ +the French had now to be fought; the adjacent locality was known and\ +shown in every detail on the maps, and Bonaparte, evidently weakened,\ +was undertaking nothing.\ +\ +Dolgorukov, one of the warmest advocates of an attack, had just returned\ +from the council, tired and exhausted but eager and proud of the victory\ +that had been gained. Prince Andrew introduced his protege, but Prince\ +Dolgorukov politely and firmly pressing his hand said nothing to Boris\ +and, evidently unable to suppress the thoughts which were uppermost in\ +his mind at that moment, addressed Prince Andrew in French.\ +\ +"Ah, my dear fellow, what a battle we have gained! God grant that the\ +one that will result from it will be as victorious! However, dear\ +fellow," he said abruptly and eagerly, "I must confess to having been\ +unjust to the Austrians and especially to Weyrother. What exactitude,\ +what minuteness, what knowledge of the locality, what foresight for\ +every eventuality, every possibility even to the smallest detail! No, my\ +dear fellow, no conditions better than our present ones could have been\ +devised. This combination of Austrian precision with Russian valor--what\ +more could be wished for?"\ +\ +"So the attack is definitely resolved on?" asked Bolkonski.\ +\ +"And do you know, my dear fellow, it seems to me that Bonaparte has\ +decidedly lost bearings, you know that a letter was received from him\ +today for the Emperor." Dolgorukov smiled significantly.\ +\ +"Is that so? And what did he say?" inquired Bolkonski.\ +\ +"What can he say? Tra-di-ri-di-ra and so on... merely to gain time. I\ +tell you he is in our hands, that's certain! But what was most amusing,"\ +he continued, with a sudden, good-natured laugh, "was that we could not\ +think how to address the reply! If not as 'Consul' and of course not as\ +'Emperor,' it seemed to me it should be to 'General Bonaparte.'"\ +\ +"But between not recognizing him as Emperor and calling him General\ +Bonaparte, there is a difference," remarked Bolkonski.\ +\ +"That's just it," interrupted Dolgorukov quickly, laughing. "You know\ +Bilibin--he's a very clever fellow. He suggested addressing him as\ +'Usurper and Enemy of Mankind.'"\ +\ +Dolgorukov laughed merrily.\ +\ +"Only that?" said Bolkonski.\ +\ +"All the same, it was Bilibin who found a suitable form for the address.\ +He is a wise and clever fellow."\ +\ +"What was it?"\ +\ +"To the Head of the French Government... Au chef du gouvernement\ +francais," said Dolgorukov, with grave satisfaction. "Good, wasn't it?"\ +\ +"Yes, but he will dislike it extremely," said Bolkonski.\ +\ +"Oh yes, very much! My brother knows him, he's dined with him--the\ +present Emperor--more than once in Paris, and tells me he never met a\ +more cunning or subtle diplomatist--you know, a combination of French\ +adroitness and Italian play-acting! Do you know the tale about him and\ +Count Markov? Count Markov was the only man who knew how to handle him.\ +You know the story of the handkerchief? It is delightful!"\ +\ +And the talkative Dolgorukov, turning now to Boris, now to Prince\ +Andrew, told how Bonaparte wishing to test Markov, our ambassador,\ +purposely dropped a handkerchief in front of him and stood looking at\ +Markov, probably expecting Markov to pick it up for him, and how Markov\ +immediately dropped his own beside it and picked it up without touching\ +Bonaparte's.\ +\ +"Delightful!" said Bolkonski. "But I have come to you, Prince, as a\ +petitioner on behalf of this young man. You see..." but before Prince\ +Andrew could finish, an aide-de-camp came in to summon Dolgorukov to the\ +Emperor.\ +\ +"Oh, what a nuisance," said Dolgorukov, getting up hurriedly and\ +pressing the hands of Prince Andrew and Boris. "You know I should be\ +very glad to do all in my power both for you and for this dear young\ +man." Again he pressed the hand of the latter with an expression of\ +good-natured, sincere, and animated levity. "But you see... another\ +time!"\ +\ +Boris was excited by the thought of being so close to the higher powers\ +as he felt himself to be at that moment. He was conscious that here he\ +was in contact with the springs that set in motion the enormous\ +movements of the mass of which in his regiment he felt himself a tiny,\ +obedient, and insignificant atom. They followed Prince Dolgorukov out\ +into the corridor and met--coming out of the door of the Emperor's room\ +by which Dolgorukov had entered--a short man in civilian clothes with a\ +clever face and sharply projecting jaw which, without spoiling his face,\ +gave him a peculiar vivacity and shiftiness of expression. This short\ +man nodded to Dolgorukov as to an intimate friend and stared at Prince\ +Andrew with cool intensity, walking straight toward him and evidently\ +expecting him to bow or to step out of his way. Prince Andrew did\ +neither: a look of animosity appeared on his face and the other turned\ +away and went down the side of the corridor.\ +\ +"Who was that?" asked Boris.\ +\ +"He is one of the most remarkable, but to me most unpleasant of men--the\ +Minister of Foreign Affairs, Prince Adam Czartoryski.... It is such men\ +as he who decide the fate of nations," added Bolkonski with a sigh he\ +could not suppress, as they passed out of the palace.\ +\ +Next day, the army began its campaign, and up to the very battle of\ +Austerlitz, Boris was unable to see either Prince Andrew or Dolgorukov\ +again and remained for a while with the Ismaylov regiment.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER X\ +\ +At dawn on the sixteenth of November, Denisov's squadron, in which\ +Nicholas Rostov served and which was in Prince Bagration's detachment,\ +moved from the place where it had spent the night, advancing into action\ +as arranged, and after going behind other columns for about two thirds\ +of a mile was stopped on the highroad. Rostov saw the Cossacks and then\ +the first and second squadrons of hussars and infantry battalions and\ +artillery pass by and go forward and then Generals Bagration and\ +Dolgorukov ride past with their adjutants. All the fear before action\ +which he had experienced as previously, all the inner struggle to\ +conquer that fear, all his dreams of distinguishing himself as a true\ +hussar in this battle, had been wasted. Their squadron remained in\ +reserve and Nicholas Rostov spent that day in a dull and wretched mood.\ +At nine in the morning, he heard firing in front and shouts of hurrah,\ +and saw wounded being brought back (there were not many of them), and at\ +last he saw how a whole detachment of French cavalry was brought in,\ +convoyed by a sotnya of Cossacks. Evidently the affair was over and,\ +though not big, had been a successful engagement. The men and officers\ +returning spoke of a brilliant victory, of the occupation of the town of\ +Wischau and the capture of a whole French squadron. The day was bright\ +and sunny after a sharp night frost, and the cheerful glitter of that\ +autumn day was in keeping with the news of victory which was conveyed,\ +not only by the tales of those who had taken part in it, but also by the\ +joyful expression on the faces of soldiers, officers, generals, and\ +adjutants, as they passed Rostov going or coming. And Nicholas, who had\ +vainly suffered all the dread that precedes a battle and had spent that\ +happy day in inactivity, was all the more depressed.\ +\ +"Come here, Wostov. Let's dwink to dwown our gwief!" shouted Denisov,\ +who had settled down by the roadside with a flask and some food.\ +\ +The officers gathered round Denisov's canteen, eating and talking.\ +\ +"There! They are bringing another!" cried one of the officers,\ +indicating a captive French dragoon who was being brought in on foot by\ +two Cossacks.\ +\ +One of them was leading by the bridle a fine large French horse he had\ +taken from the prisoner.\ +\ +"Sell us that horse!" Denisov called out to the Cossacks.\ +\ +"If you like, your honor!"\ +\ +The officers got up and stood round the Cossacks and their prisoner. The\ +French dragoon was a young Alsatian who spoke French with a German\ +accent. He was breathless with agitation, his face was red, and when he\ +heard some French spoken he at once began speaking to the officers,\ +addressing first one, then another. He said he would not have been\ +taken, it was not his fault but the corporal's who had sent him to seize\ +some horsecloths, though he had told him the Russians were there. And at\ +every word he added: "But don't hurt my little horse!" and stroked the\ +animal. It was plain that he did not quite grasp where he was. Now he\ +excused himself for having been taken prisoner and now, imagining\ +himself before his own officers, insisted on his soldierly discipline\ +and zeal in the service. He brought with him into our rearguard all the\ +freshness of atmosphere of the French army, which was so alien to us.\ +\ +The Cossacks sold the horse for two gold pieces, and Rostov, being the\ +richest of the officers now that he had received his money, bought it.\ +\ +"But don't hurt my little horse!" said the Alsatian good-naturedly to\ +Rostov when the animal was handed over to the hussar.\ +\ +Rostov smilingly reassured the dragoon and gave him money.\ +\ +"Alley! Alley!" said the Cossack, touching the prisoner's arm to make\ +him go on.\ +\ +"The Emperor! The Emperor!" was suddenly heard among the hussars.\ +\ +All began to run and bustle, and Rostov saw coming up the road behind\ +him several riders with white plumes in their hats. In a moment everyone\ +was in his place, waiting.\ +\ +Rostov did not know or remember how he ran to his place and mounted.\ +Instantly his regret at not having been in action and his dejected mood\ +amid people of whom he was weary had gone, instantly every thought of\ +himself had vanished. He was filled with happiness at his nearness to\ +the Emperor. He felt that this nearness by itself made up to him for the\ +day he had lost. He was happy as a lover when the longed-for moment of\ +meeting arrives. Not daring to look round and without looking round, he\ +was ecstatically conscious of his approach. He felt it not only from the\ +sound of the hoofs of the approaching cavalcade, but because as he drew\ +near everything grew brighter, more joyful, more significant, and more\ +festive around him. Nearer and nearer to Rostov came that sun shedding\ +beams of mild and majestic light around, and already he felt himself\ +enveloped in those beams, he heard his voice, that kindly, calm, and\ +majestic voice that was yet so simple! And as if in accord with Rostov's\ +feeling, there was a deathly stillness amid which was heard the\ +Emperor's voice.\ +\ +"The Pavlograd hussars?" he inquired.\ +\ +"The reserves, sire!" replied a voice, a very human one compared to that\ +which had said: "The Pavlograd hussars?"\ +\ +The Emperor drew level with Rostov and halted. Alexander's face was even\ +more beautiful than it had been three days before at the review. It\ +shone with such gaiety and youth, such innocent youth, that it suggested\ +the liveliness of a fourteen-year-old boy, and yet it was the face of\ +the majestic Emperor. Casually, while surveying the squadron, the\ +Emperor's eyes met Rostov's and rested on them for not more than two\ +seconds. Whether or no the Emperor understood what was going on in\ +Rostov's soul (it seemed to Rostov that he understood everything), at\ +any rate his light-blue eyes gazed for about two seconds into Rostov's\ +face. A gentle, mild light poured from them. Then all at once he raised\ +his eyebrows, abruptly touched his horse with his left foot, and\ +galloped on.\ +\ +The younger Emperor could not restrain his wish to be present at the\ +battle and, in spite of the remonstrances of his courtiers, at twelve\ +o'clock left the third column with which he had been and galloped toward\ +the vanguard. Before he came up with the hussars, several adjutants met\ +him with news of the successful result of the action.\ +\ +This battle, which consisted in the capture of a French squadron, was\ +represented as a brilliant victory over the French, and so the Emperor\ +and the whole army, especially while the smoke hung over the\ +battlefield, believed that the French had been defeated and were\ +retreating against their will. A few minutes after the Emperor had\ +passed, the Pavlograd division was ordered to advance. In Wischau\ +itself, a petty German town, Rostov saw the Emperor again. In the market\ +place, where there had been some rather heavy firing before the\ +Emperor's arrival, lay several killed and wounded soldiers whom there\ +had not been time to move. The Emperor, surrounded by his suite of\ +officers and courtiers, was riding a bobtailed chestnut mare, a\ +different one from that which he had ridden at the review, and bending\ +to one side he gracefully held a gold lorgnette to his eyes and looked\ +at a soldier who lay prone, with blood on his uncovered head. The\ +wounded soldier was so dirty, coarse, and revolting that his proximity\ +to the Emperor shocked Rostov. Rostov saw how the Emperor's rather round\ +shoulders shuddered as if a cold shiver had run down them, how his left\ +foot began convulsively tapping the horse's side with the spur, and how\ +the well-trained horse looked round unconcerned and did not stir. An\ +adjutant, dismounting, lifted the soldier under the arms to place him on\ +a stretcher that had been brought. The soldier groaned.\ +\ +"Gently, gently! Can't you do it more gently?" said the Emperor\ +apparently suffering more than the dying soldier, and he rode away.\ +\ +Rostov saw tears filling the Emperor's eyes and heard him, as he was\ +riding away, say to Czartoryski: "What a terrible thing war is: what a\ +terrible thing! Quelle terrible chose que la guerre!"\ +\ +The troops of the vanguard were stationed before Wischau, within sight\ +of the enemy's lines, which all day long had yielded ground to us at the\ +least firing. The Emperor's gratitude was announced to the vanguard,\ +rewards were promised, and the men received a double ration of vodka.\ +The campfires crackled and the soldiers' songs resounded even more\ +merrily than on the previous night. Denisov celebrated his promotion to\ +the rank of major, and Rostov, who had already drunk enough, at the end\ +of the feast proposed the Emperor's health. "Not 'our Sovereign, the\ +Emperor,' as they say at official dinners," said he, "but the health of\ +our Sovereign, that good, enchanting, and great man! Let us drink to his\ +health and to the certain defeat of the French!"\ +\ +"If we fought before," he said, "not letting the French pass, as at\ +Schon Grabern, what shall we not do now when he is at the front? We will\ +all die for him gladly! Is it not so, gentlemen? Perhaps I am not saying\ +it right, I have drunk a good deal--but that is how I feel, and so do\ +you too! To the health of Alexander the First! Hurrah!"\ +\ +"Hurrah!" rang the enthusiastic voices of the officers.\ +\ +And the old cavalry captain, Kirsten, shouted enthusiastically and no\ +less sincerely than the twenty-year-old Rostov.\ +\ +When the officers had emptied and smashed their glasses, Kirsten filled\ +others and, in shirt sleeves and breeches, went glass in hand to the\ +soldiers' bonfires and with his long gray mustache, his white chest\ +showing under his open shirt, he stood in a majestic pose in the light\ +of the campfire, waving his uplifted arm.\ +\ +"Lads! here's to our Sovereign, the Emperor, and victory over our\ +enemies! Hurrah!" he exclaimed in his dashing, old, hussar's baritone.\ +\ +The hussars crowded round and responded heartily with loud shouts.\ +\ +Late that night, when all had separated, Denisov with his short hand\ +patted his favorite, Rostov, on the shoulder.\ +\ +"As there's no one to fall in love with on campaign, he's fallen in love\ +with the Tsar," he said.\ +\ +"Denisov, don't make fun of it!" cried Rostov. "It is such a lofty,\ +beautiful feeling, such a..."\ +\ +"I believe it, I believe it, fwiend, and I share and appwove..."\ +\ +"No, you don't understand!"\ +\ +And Rostov got up and went wandering among the campfires, dreaming of\ +what happiness it would be to die--not in saving the Emperor's life (he\ +did not even dare to dream of that), but simply to die before his eyes.\ +He really was in love with the Tsar and the glory of the Russian arms\ +and the hope of future triumph. And he was not the only man to\ +experience that feeling during those memorable days preceding the battle\ +of Austerlitz: nine tenths of the men in the Russian army were then in\ +love, though less ecstatically, with their Tsar and the glory of the\ +Russian arms.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XI\ +\ +The next day the Emperor stopped at Wischau, and Villier, his physician,\ +was repeatedly summoned to see him. At headquarters and among the troops\ +near by the news spread that the Emperor was unwell. He ate nothing and\ +had slept badly that night, those around him reported. The cause of this\ +indisposition was the strong impression made on his sensitive mind by\ +the sight of the killed and wounded.\ +\ +At daybreak on the seventeenth, a French officer who had come with a\ +flag of truce, demanding an audience with the Russian Emperor, was\ +brought into Wischau from our outposts. This officer was Savary. The\ +Emperor had only just fallen asleep and so Savary had to wait. At midday\ +he was admitted to the Emperor, and an hour later he rode off with\ +Prince Dolgorukov to the advanced post of the French army.\ +\ +It was rumored that Savary had been sent to propose to Alexander a\ +meeting with Napoleon. To the joy and pride of the whole army, a\ +personal interview was refused, and instead of the Sovereign, Prince\ +Dolgorukov, the victor at Wischau, was sent with Savary to negotiate\ +with Napoleon if, contrary to expectations, these negotiations were\ +actuated by a real desire for peace.\ +\ +Toward evening Dolgorukov came back, went straight to the Tsar, and\ +remained alone with him for a long time.\ +\ +On the eighteenth and nineteenth of November, the army advanced two\ +days' march and the enemy's outposts after a brief interchange of shots\ +retreated. In the highest army circles from midday on the nineteenth, a\ +great, excitedly bustling activity began which lasted till the morning\ +of the twentieth, when the memorable battle of Austerlitz was fought.\ +\ +Till midday on the nineteenth, the activity--the eager talk, running to\ +and fro, and dispatching of adjutants--was confined to the Emperor's\ +headquarters. But on the afternoon of that day, this activity reached\ +Kutuzov's headquarters and the staffs of the commanders of columns. By\ +evening, the adjutants had spread it to all ends and parts of the army,\ +and in the night from the nineteenth to the twentieth, the whole eighty\ +thousand allied troops rose from their bivouacs to the hum of voices,\ +and the army swayed and started in one enormous mass six miles long.\ +\ +The concentrated activity which had begun at the Emperor's headquarters\ +in the morning and had started the whole movement that followed was like\ +the first movement of the main wheel of a large tower clock. One wheel\ +slowly moved, another was set in motion, and a third, and wheels began\ +to revolve faster and faster, levers and cogwheels to work, chimes to\ +play, figures to pop out, and the hands to advance with regular motion\ +as a result of all that activity.\ +\ +Just as in the mechanism of a clock, so in the mechanism of the military\ +machine, an impulse once given leads to the final result; and just as\ +indifferently quiescent till the moment when motion is transmitted to\ +them are the parts of the mechanism which the impulse has not yet\ +reached. Wheels creak on their axles as the cogs engage one another and\ +the revolving pulleys whirr with the rapidity of their movement, but a\ +neighboring wheel is as quiet and motionless as though it were prepared\ +to remain so for a hundred years; but the moment comes when the lever\ +catches it and obeying the impulse that wheel begins to creak and joins\ +in the common motion the result and aim of which are beyond its ken.\ +\ +Just as in a clock, the result of the complicated motion of innumerable\ +wheels and pulleys is merely a slow and regular movement of the hands\ +which show the time, so the result of all the complicated human\ +activities of 160,000 Russians and French--all their passions, desires,\ +remorse, humiliations, sufferings, outbursts of pride, fear, and\ +enthusiasm--was only the loss of the battle of Austerlitz, the so-called\ +battle of the three Emperors--that is to say, a slow movement of the\ +hand on the dial of human history.\ +\ +Prince Andrew was on duty that day and in constant attendance on the\ +commander-in-chief.\ +\ +At six in the evening, Kutuzov went to the Emperor's headquarters and\ +after staying but a short time with the Tsar went to see the grand\ +marshal of the court, Count Tolstoy.\ +\ +Bolkonski took the opportunity to go in to get some details of the\ +coming action from Dolgorukov. He felt that Kutuzov was upset and\ +dissatisfied about something and that at headquarters they were\ +dissatisfied with him, and also that at the Emperor's headquarters\ +everyone adopted toward him the tone of men who know something others do\ +not know: he therefore wished to speak to Dolgorukov.\ +\ +"Well, how d'you do, my dear fellow?" said Dolgorukov, who was sitting\ +at tea with Bilibin. "The fete is for tomorrow. How is your old fellow?\ +Out of sorts?"\ +\ +"I won't say he is out of sorts, but I fancy he would like to be heard."\ +\ +"But they heard him at the council of war and will hear him when he\ +talks sense, but to temporize and wait for something now when Bonaparte\ +fears nothing so much as a general battle is impossible."\ +\ +"Yes, you have seen him?" said Prince Andrew. "Well, what is Bonaparte\ +like? How did he impress you?"\ +\ +"Yes, I saw him, and am convinced that he fears nothing so much as a\ +general engagement," repeated Dolgorukov, evidently prizing this general\ +conclusion which he had arrived at from his interview with Napoleon. "If\ +he weren't afraid of a battle why did he ask for that interview? Why\ +negotiate, and above all why retreat, when to retreat is so contrary to\ +his method of conducting war? Believe me, he is afraid, afraid of a\ +general battle. His hour has come! Mark my words!"\ +\ +"But tell me, what is he like, eh?" said Prince Andrew again.\ +\ +"He is a man in a gray overcoat, very anxious that I should call him\ +'Your Majesty,' but who, to his chagrin, got no title from me! That's\ +the sort of man he is, and nothing more," replied Dolgorukov, looking\ +round at Bilibin with a smile.\ +\ +"Despite my great respect for old Kutuzov," he continued, "we should be\ +a nice set of fellows if we were to wait about and so give him a chance\ +to escape, or to trick us, now that we certainly have him in our hands!\ +No, we mustn't forget Suvorov and his rule--not to put yourself in a\ +position to be attacked, but yourself to attack. Believe me in war the\ +energy of young men often shows the way better than all the experience\ +of old Cunctators."\ +\ +"But in what position are we going to attack him? I have been at the\ +outposts today and it is impossible to say where his chief forces are\ +situated," said Prince Andrew.\ +\ +He wished to explain to Dolgorukov a plan of attack he had himself\ +formed.\ +\ +"Oh, that is all the same," Dolgorukov said quickly, and getting up he\ +spread a map on the table. "All eventualities have been foreseen. If he\ +is standing before Brunn..."\ +\ +And Prince Dolgorukov rapidly but indistinctly explained Weyrother's\ +plan of a flanking movement.\ +\ +Prince Andrew began to reply and to state his own plan, which might have\ +been as good as Weyrother's, but for the disadvantage that Weyrother's\ +had already been approved. As soon as Prince Andrew began to demonstrate\ +the defects of the latter and the merits of his own plan, Prince\ +Dolgorukov ceased to listen to him and gazed absent-mindedly not at the\ +map, but at Prince Andrew's face.\ +\ +"There will be a council of war at Kutuzov's tonight, though; you can\ +say all this there," remarked Dolgorukov.\ +\ +"I will do so," said Prince Andrew, moving away from the map.\ +\ +"Whatever are you bothering about, gentlemen?" said Bilibin, who, till\ +then, had listened with an amused smile to their conversation and now\ +was evidently ready with a joke. "Whether tomorrow brings victory or\ +defeat, the glory of our Russian arms is secure. Except your Kutuzov,\ +there is not a single Russian in command of a column! The commanders\ +are: Herr General Wimpfen, le Comte de Langeron, le Prince de\ +Lichtenstein, le Prince, de Hohenlohe, and finally Prishprish, and so on\ +like all those Polish names."\ +\ +"Be quiet, backbiter!" said Dolgorukov. "It is not true; there are now\ +two Russians, Miloradovich, and Dokhturov, and there would be a third,\ +Count Arakcheev, if his nerves were not too weak."\ +\ +"However, I think General Kutuzov has come out," said Prince Andrew. "I\ +wish you good luck and success, gentlemen!" he added and went out after\ +shaking hands with Dolgorukov and Bilibin.\ +\ +On the way home, Prince Andrew could not refrain from asking Kutuzov,\ +who was sitting silently beside him, what he thought of tomorrow's\ +battle.\ +\ +Kutuzov looked sternly at his adjutant and, after a pause, replied: "I\ +think the battle will be lost, and so I told Count Tolstoy and asked him\ +to tell the Emperor. What do you think he replied? 'But, my dear\ +general, I am engaged with rice and cutlets, look after military matters\ +yourself!' Yes... That was the answer I got!"\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XII\ +\ +Shortly after nine o'clock that evening, Weyrother drove with his plans\ +to Kutuzov's quarters where the council of war was to be held. All the\ +commanders of columns were summoned to the commander-in-chief's and with\ +the exception of Prince Bagration, who declined to come, were all there\ +at the appointed time.\ +\ +Weyrother, who was in full control of the proposed battle, by his\ +eagerness and briskness presented a marked contrast to the dissatisfied\ +and drowsy Kutuzov, who reluctantly played the part of chairman and\ +president of the council of war. Weyrother evidently felt himself to be\ +at the head of a movement that had already become unrestrainable. He was\ +like a horse running downhill harnessed to a heavy cart. Whether he was\ +pulling it or being pushed by it he did not know, but rushed along at\ +headlong speed with no time to consider what this movement might lead\ +to. Weyrother had been twice that evening to the enemy's picket line to\ +reconnoiter personally, and twice to the Emperors, Russian and Austrian,\ +to report and explain, and to his headquarters where he had dictated the\ +dispositions in German, and now, much exhausted, he arrived at\ +Kutuzov's.\ +\ +He was evidently so busy that he even forgot to be polite to the\ +commander in chief. He interrupted him, talked rapidly and indistinctly,\ +without looking at the man he was addressing, and did not reply to\ +questions put to him. He was bespattered with mud and had a pitiful,\ +weary, and distracted air, though at the same time he was haughty and\ +self-confident.\ +\ +Kutuzov was occupying a nobleman's castle of modest dimensions near\ +Ostralitz. In the large drawing room which had become the commander in\ +chief's office were gathered Kutuzov himself, Weyrother, and the members\ +of the council of war. They were drinking tea, and only awaited Prince\ +Bagration to begin the council. At last Bagration's orderly came with\ +the news that the prince could not attend. Prince Andrew came in to\ +inform the commander-in-chief of this and, availing himself of\ +permission previously given him by Kutuzov to be present at the council,\ +he remained in the room.\ +\ +"Since Prince Bagration is not coming, we may begin," said Weyrother,\ +hurriedly rising from his seat and going up to the table on which an\ +enormous map of the environs of Brunn was spread out.\ +\ +Kutuzov, with his uniform unbuttoned so that his fat neck bulged over\ +his collar as if escaping, was sitting almost asleep in a low chair,\ +with his podgy old hands resting symmetrically on its arms. At the sound\ +of Weyrother's voice, he opened his one eye with an effort.\ +\ +"Yes, yes, if you please! It is already late," said he, and nodding his\ +head he let it droop and again closed his eye.\ +\ +If at first the members of the council thought that Kutuzov was\ +pretending to sleep, the sounds his nose emitted during the reading that\ +followed proved that the commander-in-chief at that moment was absorbed\ +by a far more serious matter than a desire to show his contempt for the\ +dispositions or anything else--he was engaged in satisfying the\ +irresistible human need for sleep. He really was asleep. Weyrother, with\ +the gesture of a man too busy to lose a moment, glanced at Kutuzov and,\ +having convinced himself that he was asleep, took up a paper and in a\ +loud, monotonous voice began to read out the dispositions for the\ +impending battle, under a heading which he also read out:\ +\ +"Dispositions for an attack on the enemy position behind Kobelnitz and\ +Sokolnitz, November 30, 1805."\ +\ +The dispositions were very complicated and difficult. They began as\ +follows:\ +\ +"As the enemy's left wing rests on wooded hills and his right extends\ +along Kobelnitz and Sokolnitz behind the ponds that are there, while we,\ +on the other hand, with our left wing by far outflank his right, it is\ +advantageous to attack the enemy's latter wing especially if we occupy\ +the villages of Sokolnitz and Kobelnitz, whereby we can both fall on his\ +flank and pursue him over the plain between Schlappanitz and the\ +Thuerassa forest, avoiding the defiles of Schlappanitz and Bellowitz\ +which cover the enemy's front. For this object it is necessary that...\ +The first column marches... The second column marches... The third\ +column marches..." and so on, read Weyrother.\ +\ +The generals seemed to listen reluctantly to the difficult dispositions.\ +The tall, fair-haired General Buxhowden stood, leaning his back against\ +the wall, his eyes fixed on a burning candle, and seemed not to listen\ +or even to wish to be thought to listen. Exactly opposite Weyrother,\ +with his glistening wide-open eyes fixed upon him and his mustache\ +twisted upwards, sat the ruddy Miloradovich in a military pose, his\ +elbows turned outwards, his hands on his knees, and his shoulders\ +raised. He remained stubbornly silent, gazing at Weyrother's face, and\ +only turned away his eyes when the Austrian chief of staff finished\ +reading. Then Miloradovich looked round significantly at the other\ +generals. But one could not tell from that significant look whether he\ +agreed or disagreed and was satisfied or not with the arrangements. Next\ +to Weyrother sat Count Langeron who, with a subtle smile that never left\ +his typically southern French face during the whole time of the reading,\ +gazed at his delicate fingers which rapidly twirled by its corners a\ +gold snuffbox on which was a portrait. In the middle of one of the\ +longest sentences, he stopped the rotary motion of the snuffbox, raised\ +his head, and with inimical politeness lurking in the corners of his\ +thin lips interrupted Weyrother, wishing to say something. But the\ +Austrian general, continuing to read, frowned angrily and jerked his\ +elbows, as if to say: "You can tell me your views later, but now be so\ +good as to look at the map and listen." Langeron lifted his eyes with an\ +expression of perplexity, turned round to Miloradovich as if seeking an\ +explanation, but meeting the latter's impressive but meaningless gaze\ +drooped his eyes sadly and again took to twirling his snuffbox.\ +\ +"A geography lesson!" he muttered as if to himself, but loud enough to\ +be heard.\ +\ +Przebyszewski, with respectful but dignified politeness, held his hand\ +to his ear toward Weyrother, with the air of a man absorbed in\ +attention. Dohkturov, a little man, sat opposite Weyrother, with an\ +assiduous and modest mien, and stooping over the outspread map\ +conscientiously studied the dispositions and the unfamiliar locality. He\ +asked Weyrother several times to repeat words he had not clearly heard\ +and the difficult names of villages. Weyrother complied and Dohkturov\ +noted them down.\ +\ +When the reading which lasted more than an hour was over, Langeron again\ +brought his snuffbox to rest and, without looking at Weyrother or at\ +anyone in particular, began to say how difficult it was to carry out\ +such a plan in which the enemy's position was assumed to be known,\ +whereas it was perhaps not known, since the enemy was in movement.\ +Langeron's objections were valid but it was obvious that their chief aim\ +was to show General Weyrother--who had read his dispositions with as\ +much self-confidence as if he were addressing school children--that he\ +had to do, not with fools, but with men who could teach him something in\ +military matters.\ +\ +When the monotonous sound of Weyrother's voice ceased, Kutuzov opened\ +his eye as a miller wakes up when the soporific drone of the mill wheel\ +is interrupted. He listened to what Langeron said, as if remarking, "So\ +you are still at that silly business!" quickly closed his eye again, and\ +let his head sink still lower.\ +\ +Langeron, trying as virulently as possible to sting Weyrother's vanity\ +as author of the military plan, argued that Bonaparte might easily\ +attack instead of being attacked, and so render the whole of this plan\ +perfectly worthless. Weyrother met all objections with a firm and\ +contemptuous smile, evidently prepared beforehand to meet all objections\ +be they what they might.\ +\ +"If he could attack us, he would have done so today," said he.\ +\ +"So you think he is powerless?" said Langeron.\ +\ +"He has forty thousand men at most," replied Weyrother, with the smile\ +of a doctor to whom an old wife wishes to explain the treatment of a\ +case.\ +\ +"In that case he is inviting his doom by awaiting our attack," said\ +Langeron, with a subtly ironical smile, again glancing round for support\ +to Miloradovich who was near him.\ +\ +But Miloradovich was at that moment evidently thinking of anything\ +rather than of what the generals were disputing about.\ +\ +"Ma foi!" said he, "tomorrow we shall see all that on the battlefield."\ +\ +Weyrother again gave that smile which seemed to say that to him it was\ +strange and ridiculous to meet objections from Russian generals and to\ +have to prove to them what he had not merely convinced himself of, but\ +had also convinced the sovereign Emperors of.\ +\ +"The enemy has quenched his fires and a continual noise is heard from\ +his camp," said he. "What does that mean? Either he is retreating, which\ +is the only thing we need fear, or he is changing his position." (He\ +smiled ironically.) "But even if he also took up a position in the\ +Thuerassa, he merely saves us a great deal of trouble and all our\ +arrangements to the minutest detail remain the same."\ +\ +"How is that?..." began Prince Andrew, who had for long been waiting an\ +opportunity to express his doubts.\ +\ +Kutuzov here woke up, coughed heavily, and looked round at the generals.\ +\ +"Gentlemen, the dispositions for tomorrow--or rather for today, for it\ +is past midnight--cannot now be altered," said he. "You have heard them,\ +and we shall all do our duty. But before a battle, there is nothing more\ +important..." he paused, "than to have a good sleep."\ +\ +He moved as if to rise. The generals bowed and retired. It was past\ +midnight. Prince Andrew went out.\ +\ +The council of war, at which Prince Andrew had not been able to express\ +his opinion as he had hoped to, left on him a vague and uneasy\ +impression. Whether Dolgorukov and Weyrother, or Kutuzov, Langeron, and\ +the others who did not approve of the plan of attack, were right--he did\ +not know. "But was it really not possible for Kutuzov to state his views\ +plainly to the Emperor? Is it possible that on account of court and\ +personal considerations tens of thousands of lives, and my life, my\ +life," he thought, "must be risked?"\ +\ +"Yes, it is very likely that I shall be killed tomorrow," he thought.\ +And suddenly, at this thought of death, a whole series of most distant,\ +most intimate, memories rose in his imagination: he remembered his last\ +parting from his father and his wife; he remembered the days when he\ +first loved her. He thought of her pregnancy and felt sorry for her and\ +for himself, and in a nervously emotional and softened mood he went out\ +of the hut in which he was billeted with Nesvitski and began to walk up\ +and down before it.\ +\ +The night was foggy and through the fog the moonlight gleamed\ +mysteriously. "Yes, tomorrow, tomorrow!" he thought. "Tomorrow\ +everything may be over for me! All these memories will be no more, none\ +of them will have any meaning for me. Tomorrow perhaps, even certainly,\ +I have a presentiment that for the first time I shall have to show all I\ +can do." And his fancy pictured the battle, its loss, the concentration\ +of fighting at one point, and the hesitation of all the commanders. And\ +then that happy moment, that Toulon for which he had so long waited,\ +presents itself to him at last. He firmly and clearly expresses his\ +opinion to Kutuzov, to Weyrother, and to the Emperors. All are struck by\ +the justness of his views, but no one undertakes to carry them out, so\ +he takes a regiment, a division-stipulates that no one is to interfere\ +with his arrangements--leads his division to the decisive point, and\ +gains the victory alone. "But death and suffering?" suggested another\ +voice. Prince Andrew, however, did not answer that voice and went on\ +dreaming of his triumphs. The dispositions for the next battle are\ +planned by him alone. Nominally he is only an adjutant on Kutuzov's\ +staff, but he does everything alone. The next battle is won by him\ +alone. Kutuzov is removed and he is appointed... "Well and then?" asked\ +the other voice. "If before that you are not ten times wounded, killed,\ +or betrayed, well... what then?..." "Well then," Prince Andrew answered\ +himself, "I don't know what will happen and don't want to know, and\ +can't, but if I want this--want glory, want to be known to men, want to\ +be loved by them, it is not my fault that I want it and want nothing but\ +that and live only for that. Yes, for that alone! I shall never tell\ +anyone, but, oh God! what am I to do if I love nothing but fame and\ +men's esteem? Death, wounds, the loss of family--I fear nothing. And\ +precious and dear as many persons are to me--father, sister, wife--those\ +dearest to me--yet dreadful and unnatural as it seems, I would give them\ +all at once for a moment of glory, of triumph over men, of love from men\ +I don't know and never shall know, for the love of these men here," he\ +thought, as he listened to voices in Kutuzov's courtyard. The voices\ +were those of the orderlies who were packing up; one voice, probably a\ +coachman's, was teasing Kutuzov's old cook whom Prince Andrew knew, and\ +who was called Tit. He was saying, "Tit, I say, Tit!"\ +\ +"Well?" returned the old man.\ +\ +"Go, Tit, thresh a bit!" said the wag.\ +\ +"Oh, go to the devil!" called out a voice, drowned by the laughter of\ +the orderlies and servants.\ +\ +"All the same, I love and value nothing but triumph over them all, I\ +value this mystic power and glory that is floating here above me in this\ +mist!"\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XIII\ +\ +That same night, Rostov was with a platoon on skirmishing duty in front\ +of Bagration's detachment. His hussars were placed along the line in\ +couples and he himself rode along the line trying to master the\ +sleepiness that kept coming over him. An enormous space, with our army's\ +campfires dimly glowing in the fog, could be seen behind him; in front\ +of him was misty darkness. Rostov could see nothing, peer as he would\ +into that foggy distance: now something gleamed gray, now there was\ +something black, now little lights seemed to glimmer where the enemy\ +ought to be, now he fancied it was only something in his own eyes. His\ +eyes kept closing, and in his fancy appeared--now the Emperor, now\ +Denisov, and now Moscow memories--and he again hurriedly opened his eyes\ +and saw close before him the head and ears of the horse he was riding,\ +and sometimes, when he came within six paces of them, the black figures\ +of hussars, but in the distance was still the same misty darkness. "Why\ +not?... It might easily happen," thought Rostov, "that the Emperor will\ +meet me and give me an order as he would to any other officer; he'll\ +say: 'Go and find out what's there.' There are many stories of his\ +getting to know an officer in just such a chance way and attaching him\ +to himself! What if he gave me a place near him? Oh, how I would guard\ +him, how I would tell him the truth, how I would unmask his deceivers!"\ +And in order to realize vividly his love devotion to the sovereign,\ +Rostov pictured to himself an enemy or a deceitful German, whom he would\ +not only kill with pleasure but whom he would slap in the face before\ +the Emperor. Suddenly a distant shout aroused him. He started and opened\ +his eyes.\ +\ +"Where am I? Oh yes, in the skirmishing line... pass and watchword--\ +shaft, Olmutz. What a nuisance that our squadron will be in reserve\ +tomorrow," he thought. "I'll ask leave to go to the front, this may be\ +my only chance of seeing the Emperor. It won't be long now before I am\ +off duty. I'll take another turn and when I get back I'll go to the\ +general and ask him." He readjusted himself in the saddle and touched up\ +his horse to ride once more round his hussars. It seemed to him that it\ +was getting lighter. To the left he saw a sloping descent lit up, and\ +facing it a black knoll that seemed as steep as a wall. On this knoll\ +there was a white patch that Rostov could not at all make out: was it a\ +glade in the wood lit up by the moon, or some unmelted snow, or some\ +white houses? He even thought something moved on that white spot. "I\ +expect it's snow... that spot... a spot--une tache," he thought. "There\ +now... it's not a tache... Natasha... sister, black eyes... Na...\ +tasha... (Won't she be surprised when I tell her how I've seen the\ +Emperor?) Natasha... take my sabretache..."--"Keep to the right, your\ +honor, there are bushes here," came the voice of an hussar, past whom\ +Rostov was riding in the act of falling asleep. Rostov lifted his head\ +that had sunk almost to his horse's mane and pulled up beside the\ +hussar. He was succumbing to irresistible, youthful, childish\ +drowsiness. "But what was I thinking? I mustn't forget. How shall I\ +speak to the Emperor? No, that's not it--that's tomorrow. Oh yes!\ +Natasha... sabretache... saber them... Whom? The hussars... Ah, the\ +hussars with mustaches. Along the Tverskaya Street rode the hussar with\ +mustaches... I thought about him too, just opposite Guryev's house...\ +Old Guryev.... Oh, but Denisov's a fine fellow. But that's all nonsense.\ +The chief thing is that the Emperor is here. How he looked at me and\ +wished to say something, but dared not.... No, it was I who dared not.\ +But that's nonsense, the chief thing is not to forget the important\ +thing I was thinking of. Yes, Na-tasha, sabretache, oh, yes, yes! That's\ +right!" And his head once more sank to his horse's neck. All at once it\ +seemed to him that he was being fired at. "What? What? What?... Cut them\ +down! What?..." said Rostov, waking up. At the moment he opened his eyes\ +he heard in front of him, where the enemy was, the long-drawn shouts of\ +thousands of voices. His horse and the horse of the hussar near him\ +pricked their ears at these shouts. Over there, where the shouting came\ +from, a fire flared up and went out again, then another, and all along\ +the French line on the hill fires flared up and the shouting grew louder\ +and louder. Rostov could hear the sound of French words but could not\ +distinguish them. The din of many voices was too great; all he could\ +hear was: "ahahah!" and "rrrr!"\ +\ +"What's that? What do you make of it?" said Rostov to the hussar beside\ +him. "That must be the enemy's camp!"\ +\ +The hussar did not reply.\ +\ +"Why, don't you hear it?" Rostov asked again, after waiting for a reply.\ +\ +"Who can tell, your honor?" replied the hussar reluctantly.\ +\ +"From the direction, it must be the enemy," repeated Rostov.\ +\ +"It may be he or it may be nothing," muttered the hussar. "It's dark...\ +Steady!" he cried to his fidgeting horse.\ +\ +Rostov's horse was also getting restive: it pawed the frozen ground,\ +pricking its ears at the noise and looking at the lights. The shouting\ +grew still louder and merged into a general roar that only an army of\ +several thousand men could produce. The lights spread farther and\ +farther, probably along the line of the French camp. Rostov no longer\ +wanted to sleep. The gay triumphant shouting of the enemy army had a\ +stimulating effect on him. "Vive l'Empereur! L'Empereur!" he now heard\ +distinctly.\ +\ +"They can't be far off, probably just beyond the stream," he said to the\ +hussar beside him.\ +\ +The hussar only sighed without replying and coughed angrily. The sound\ +of horse's hoofs approaching at a trot along the line of hussars was\ +heard, and out of the foggy darkness the figure of a sergeant of hussars\ +suddenly appeared, looming huge as an elephant.\ +\ +"Your honor, the generals!" said the sergeant, riding up to Rostov.\ +\ +Rostov, still looking round toward the fires and the shouts, rode with\ +the sergeant to meet some mounted men who were riding along the line.\ +One was on a white horse. Prince Bagration and Prince Dolgorukov with\ +their adjutants had come to witness the curious phenomenon of the lights\ +and shouts in the enemy's camp. Rostov rode up to Bagration, reported to\ +him, and then joined the adjutants listening to what the generals were\ +saying.\ +\ +"Believe me," said Prince Dolgorukov, addressing Bagration, "it is\ +nothing but a trick! He has retreated and ordered the rearguard to\ +kindle fires and make a noise to deceive us."\ +\ +"Hardly," said Bagration. "I saw them this evening on that knoll; if\ +they had retreated they would have withdrawn from that too.... Officer!"\ +said Bagration to Rostov, "are the enemy's skirmishers still there?"\ +\ +"They were there this evening, but now I don't know, your excellency.\ +Shall I go with some of my hussars to see?" replied Rostov.\ +\ +Bagration stopped and, before replying, tried to see Rostov's face in\ +the mist.\ +\ +"Well, go and see," he said, after a pause.\ +\ +"Yes, sir."\ +\ +Rostov spurred his horse, called to Sergeant Fedchenko and two other\ +hussars, told them to follow him, and trotted downhill in the direction\ +from which the shouting came. He felt both frightened and pleased to be\ +riding alone with three hussars into that mysterious and dangerous misty\ +distance where no one had been before him. Bagration called to him from\ +the hill not to go beyond the stream, but Rostov pretended not to hear\ +him and did not stop but rode on and on, continually mistaking bushes\ +for trees and gullies for men and continually discovering his mistakes.\ +Having descended the hill at a trot, he no longer saw either our own or\ +the enemy's fires, but heard the shouting of the French more loudly and\ +distinctly. In the valley he saw before him something like a river, but\ +when he reached it he found it was a road. Having come out onto the road\ +he reined in his horse, hesitating whether to ride along it or cross it\ +and ride over the black field up the hillside. To keep to the road which\ +gleamed white in the mist would have been safer because it would be\ +easier to see people coming along it. "Follow me!" said he, crossed the\ +road, and began riding up the hill at a gallop toward the point where\ +the French pickets had been standing that evening.\ +\ +"Your honor, there he is!" cried one of the hussars behind him. And\ +before Rostov had time to make out what the black thing was that had\ +suddenly appeared in the fog, there was a flash, followed by a report,\ +and a bullet whizzing high up in the mist with a plaintive sound passed\ +out of hearing. Another musket missed fire but flashed in the pan.\ +Rostov turned his horse and galloped back. Four more reports followed at\ +intervals, and the bullets passed somewhere in the fog singing in\ +different tones. Rostov reined in his horse, whose spirits had risen,\ +like his own, at the firing, and went back at a footpace. "Well, some\ +more! Some more!" a merry voice was saying in his soul. But no more\ +shots came.\ +\ +Only when approaching Bagration did Rostov let his horse gallop again,\ +and with his hand at the salute rode up to the general.\ +\ +Dolgorukov was still insisting that the French had retreated and had\ +only lit fires to deceive us.\ +\ +"What does that prove?" he was saying as Rostov rode up. "They might\ +retreat and leave the pickets."\ +\ +"It's plain that they have not all gone yet, Prince," said Bagration.\ +"Wait till tomorrow morning, we'll find out everything tomorrow."\ +\ +"The picket is still on the hill, your excellency, just where it was in\ +the evening," reported Rostov, stooping forward with his hand at the\ +salute and unable to repress the smile of delight induced by his ride\ +and especially by the sound of the bullets.\ +\ +"Very good, very good," said Bagration. "Thank you, officer."\ +\ +"Your excellency," said Rostov, "may I ask a favor?"\ +\ +"What is it?"\ +\ +"Tomorrow our squadron is to be in reserve. May I ask to be attached to\ +the first squadron?"\ +\ +"What's your name?"\ +\ +"Count Rostov."\ +\ +"Oh, very well, you may stay in attendance on me."\ +\ +"Count Ilya Rostov's son?" asked Dolgorukov.\ +\ +But Rostov did not reply.\ +\ +"Then I may reckon on it, your excellency?"\ +\ +"I will give the order."\ +\ +"Tomorrow very likely I may be sent with some message to the Emperor,"\ +thought Rostov.\ +\ +"Thank God!"\ +\ +The fires and shouting in the enemy's army were occasioned by the fact\ +that while Napoleon's proclamation was being read to the troops the\ +Emperor himself rode round his bivouacs. The soldiers, on seeing him,\ +lit wisps of straw and ran after him, shouting, "Vive l'Empereur!"\ +Napoleon's proclamation was as follows:\ +\ +Soldiers! The Russian army is advancing against you to avenge the\ +Austrian army of Ulm. They are the same battalions you broke at\ +Hollabrunn and have pursued ever since to this place. The position we\ +occupy is a strong one, and while they are marching to go round me on\ +the right they will expose a flank to me. Soldiers! I will myself direct\ +your battalions. I will keep out of fire if you with your habitual valor\ +carry disorder and confusion into the enemy's ranks, but should victory\ +be in doubt, even for a moment, you will see your Emperor exposing\ +himself to the first blows of the enemy, for there must be no doubt of\ +victory, especially on this day when what is at stake is the honor of\ +the French infantry, so necessary to the honor of our nation.\ +\ +Do not break your ranks on the plea of removing the wounded! Let every\ +man be fully imbued with the thought that we must defeat these hirelings\ +of England, inspired by such hatred of our nation! This victory will\ +conclude our campaign and we can return to winter quarters, where fresh\ +French troops who are being raised in France will join us, and the peace\ +I shall conclude will be worthy of my people, of you, and of myself.\ +\ +NAPOLEON\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XIV\ +\ +At five in the morning it was still quite dark. The troops of the\ +center, the reserves, and Bagration's right flank had not yet moved, but\ +on the left flank the columns of infantry, cavalry, and artillery, which\ +were to be the first to descend the heights to attack the French right\ +flank and drive it into the Bohemian mountains according to plan, were\ +already up and astir. The smoke of the campfires, into which they were\ +throwing everything superfluous, made the eyes smart. It was cold and\ +dark. The officers were hurriedly drinking tea and breakfasting, the\ +soldiers, munching biscuit and beating a tattoo with their feet to warm\ +themselves, gathering round the fires throwing into the flames the\ +remains of sheds, chairs, tables, wheels, tubs, and everything that they\ +did not want or could not carry away with them. Austrian column guides\ +were moving in and out among the Russian troops and served as heralds of\ +the advance. As soon as an Austrian officer showed himself near a\ +commanding officer's quarters, the regiment began to move: the soldiers\ +ran from the fires, thrust their pipes into their boots, their bags into\ +the carts, got their muskets ready, and formed rank. The officers\ +buttoned up their coats, buckled on their swords and pouches, and moved\ +along the ranks shouting. The train drivers and orderlies harnessed and\ +packed the wagons and tied on the loads. The adjutants and battalion and\ +regimental commanders mounted, crossed themselves, gave final\ +instructions, orders, and commissions to the baggage men who remained\ +behind, and the monotonous tramp of thousands of feet resounded. The\ +column moved forward without knowing where and unable, from the masses\ +around them, the smoke and the increasing fog, to see either the place\ +they were leaving or that to which they were going.\ +\ +A soldier on the march is hemmed in and borne along by his regiment as\ +much as a sailor is by his ship. However far he has walked, whatever\ +strange, unknown, and dangerous places he reaches, just as a sailor is\ +always surrounded by the same decks, masts, and rigging of his ship, so\ +the soldier always has around him the same comrades, the same ranks, the\ +same sergeant major Ivan Mitrich, the same company dog Jack, and the\ +same commanders. The sailor rarely cares to know the latitude in which\ +his ship is sailing, but on the day of battle--heaven knows how and\ +whence--a stern note of which all are conscious sounds in the moral\ +atmosphere of an army, announcing the approach of something decisive and\ +solemn, and awakening in the men an unusual curiosity. On the day of\ +battle the soldiers excitedly try to get beyond the interests of their\ +regiment, they listen intently, look about, and eagerly ask concerning\ +what is going on around them.\ +\ +The fog had grown so dense that though it was growing light they could\ +not see ten paces ahead. Bushes looked like gigantic trees and level\ +ground like cliffs and slopes. Anywhere, on any side, one might\ +encounter an enemy invisible ten paces off. But the columns advanced for\ +a long time, always in the same fog, descending and ascending hills,\ +avoiding gardens and enclosures, going over new and unknown ground, and\ +nowhere encountering the enemy. On the contrary, the soldiers became\ +aware that in front, behind, and on all sides, other Russian columns\ +were moving in the same direction. Every soldier felt glad to know that\ +to the unknown place where he was going, many more of our men were going\ +too.\ +\ +"There now, the Kurskies have also gone past," was being said in the\ +ranks.\ +\ +"It's wonderful what a lot of our troops have gathered, lads! Last night\ +I looked at the campfires and there was no end of them. A regular\ +Moscow!"\ +\ +Though none of the column commanders rode up to the ranks or talked to\ +the men (the commanders, as we saw at the council of war, were out of\ +humor and dissatisfied with the affair, and so did not exert themselves\ +to cheer the men but merely carried out the orders), yet the troops\ +marched gaily, as they always do when going into action, especially to\ +an attack. But when they had marched for about an hour in the dense fog,\ +the greater part of the men had to halt and an unpleasant consciousness\ +of some dislocation and blunder spread through the ranks. How such a\ +consciousness is communicated is very difficult to define, but it\ +certainly is communicated very surely, and flows rapidly, imperceptibly,\ +and irrepressibly, as water does in a creek. Had the Russian army been\ +alone without any allies, it might perhaps have been a long time before\ +this consciousness of mismanagement became a general conviction, but as\ +it was, the disorder was readily and naturally attributed to the stupid\ +Germans, and everyone was convinced that a dangerous muddle had been\ +occasioned by the sausage eaters.\ +\ +"Why have we stopped? Is the way blocked? Or have we already come up\ +against the French?"\ +\ +"No, one can't hear them. They'd be firing if we had."\ +\ +"They were in a hurry enough to start us, and now here we stand in the\ +middle of a field without rhyme or reason. It's all those damned\ +Germans' muddling! What stupid devils!"\ +\ +"Yes, I'd send them on in front, but no fear, they're crowding up\ +behind. And now here we stand hungry."\ +\ +"I say, shall we soon be clear? They say the cavalry are blocking the\ +way," said an officer.\ +\ +"Ah, those damned Germans! They don't know their own country!" said\ +another.\ +\ +"What division are you?" shouted an adjutant, riding up.\ +\ +"The Eighteenth."\ +\ +"Then why are you here? You should have gone on long ago, now you won't\ +get there till evening."\ +\ +"What stupid orders! They don't themselves know what they are doing!"\ +said the officer and rode off.\ +\ +Then a general rode past shouting something angrily, not in Russian.\ +\ +"Tafa-lafa! But what he's jabbering no one can make out," said a\ +soldier, mimicking the general who had ridden away. "I'd shoot them, the\ +scoundrels!"\ +\ +"We were ordered to be at the place before nine, but we haven't got\ +halfway. Fine orders!" was being repeated on different sides.\ +\ +And the feeling of energy with which the troops had started began to\ +turn into vexation and anger at the stupid arrangements and at the\ +Germans.\ +\ +The cause of the confusion was that while the Austrian cavalry was\ +moving toward our left flank, the higher command found that our center\ +was too far separated from our right flank and the cavalry were all\ +ordered to turn back to the right. Several thousand cavalry crossed in\ +front of the infantry, who had to wait.\ +\ +At the front an altercation occurred between an Austrian guide and a\ +Russian general. The general shouted a demand that the cavalry should be\ +halted, the Austrian argued that not he, but the higher command, was to\ +blame. The troops meanwhile stood growing listless and dispirited. After\ +an hour's delay they at last moved on, descending the hill. The fog that\ +was dispersing on the hill lay still more densely below, where they were\ +descending. In front in the fog a shot was heard and then another, at\ +first irregularly at varying intervals--trata... tat--and then more and\ +more regularly and rapidly, and the action at the Goldbach Stream began.\ +\ +Not expecting to come on the enemy down by the stream, and having\ +stumbled on him in the fog, hearing no encouraging word from their\ +commanders, and with a consciousness of being too late spreading through\ +the ranks, and above all being unable to see anything in front or around\ +them in the thick fog, the Russians exchanged shots with the enemy\ +lazily and advanced and again halted, receiving no timely orders from\ +the officers or adjutants who wandered about in the fog in those unknown\ +surroundings unable to find their own regiments. In this way the action\ +began for the first, second, and third columns, which had gone down into\ +the valley. The fourth column, with which Kutuzov was, stood on the\ +Pratzen Heights.\ +\ +Below, where the fight was beginning, there was still thick fog; on the\ +higher ground it was clearing, but nothing could be seen of what was\ +going on in front. Whether all the enemy forces were, as we supposed,\ +six miles away, or whether they were near by in that sea of mist, no one\ +knew till after eight o'clock.\ +\ +It was nine o'clock in the morning. The fog lay unbroken like a sea down\ +below, but higher up at the village of Schlappanitz where Napoleon stood\ +with his marshals around him, it was quite light. Above him was a clear\ +blue sky, and the sun's vast orb quivered like a huge hollow, crimson\ +float on the surface of that milky sea of mist. The whole French army,\ +and even Napoleon himself with his staff, were not on the far side of\ +the streams and hollows of Sokolnitz and Schlappanitz beyond which we\ +intended to take up our position and begin the action, but were on this\ +side, so close to our own forces that Napoleon with the naked eye could\ +distinguish a mounted man from one on foot. Napoleon, in the blue cloak\ +which he had worn on his Italian campaign, sat on his small gray Arab\ +horse a little in front of his marshals. He gazed silently at the hills\ +which seemed to rise out of the sea of mist and on which the Russian\ +troops were moving in the distance, and he listened to the sounds of\ +firing in the valley. Not a single muscle of his face--which in those\ +days was still thin--moved. His gleaming eyes were fixed intently on one\ +spot. His predictions were being justified. Part of the Russian force\ +had already descended into the valley toward the ponds and lakes and\ +part were leaving these Pratzen Heights which he intended to attack and\ +regarded as the key to the position. He saw over the mist that in a\ +hollow between two hills near the village of Pratzen, the Russian\ +columns, their bayonets glittering, were moving continuously in one\ +direction toward the valley and disappearing one after another into the\ +mist. From information he had received the evening before, from the\ +sound of wheels and footsteps heard by the outposts during the night, by\ +the disorderly movement of the Russian columns, and from all\ +indications, he saw clearly that the allies believed him to be far away\ +in front of them, and that the columns moving near Pratzen constituted\ +the center of the Russian army, and that that center was already\ +sufficiently weakened to be successfully attacked. But still he did not\ +begin the engagement.\ +\ +Today was a great day for him--the anniversary of his coronation. Before\ +dawn he had slept for a few hours, and refreshed, vigorous, and in good\ +spirits, he mounted his horse and rode out into the field in that happy\ +mood in which everything seems possible and everything succeeds. He sat\ +motionless, looking at the heights visible above the mist, and his cold\ +face wore that special look of confident, self-complacent happiness that\ +one sees on the face of a boy happily in love. The marshals stood behind\ +him not venturing to distract his attention. He looked now at the\ +Pratzen Heights, now at the sun floating up out of the mist.\ +\ +When the sun had entirely emerged from the fog, and fields and mist were\ +aglow with dazzling light--as if he had only awaited this to begin the\ +action--he drew the glove from his shapely white hand, made a sign with\ +it to the marshals, and ordered the action to begin. The marshals,\ +accompanied by adjutants, galloped off in different directions, and a\ +few minutes later the chief forces of the French army moved rapidly\ +toward those Pratzen Heights which were being more and more denuded by\ +Russian troops moving down the valley to their left.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XV\ +\ +At eight o'clock Kutuzov rode to Pratzen at the head of the fourth\ +column, Miloradovich's, the one that was to take the place of\ +Przebyszewski's and Langeron's columns which had already gone down into\ +the valley. He greeted the men of the foremost regiment and gave them\ +the order to march, thereby indicating that he intended to lead that\ +column himself. When he had reached the village of Pratzen he halted.\ +Prince Andrew was behind, among the immense number forming the\ +commander-in-chief's suite. He was in a state of suppressed excitement\ +and irritation, though controlledly calm as a man is at the approach of\ +a long-awaited moment. He was firmly convinced that this was the day of\ +his Toulon, or his bridge of Arcola. How it would come about he did not\ +know, but he felt sure it would do so. The locality and the position of\ +our troops were known to him as far as they could be known to anyone in\ +our army. His own strategic plan, which obviously could not now be\ +carried out, was forgotten. Now, entering into Weyrother's plan, Prince\ +Andrew considered possible contingencies and formed new projects such as\ +might call for his rapidity of perception and decision.\ +\ +To the left down below in the mist, the musketry fire of unseen forces\ +could be heard. It was there Prince Andrew thought the fight would\ +concentrate. "There we shall encounter difficulties, and there," thought\ +he, "I shall be sent with a brigade or division, and there, standard in\ +hand, I shall go forward and break whatever is in front of me."\ +\ +He could not look calmly at the standards of the passing battalions.\ +Seeing them he kept thinking, "That may be the very standard with which\ +I shall lead the army."\ +\ +In the morning all that was left of the night mist on the heights was a\ +hoar frost now turning to dew, but in the valleys it still lay like a\ +milk-white sea. Nothing was visible in the valley to the left into which\ +our troops had descended and from whence came the sounds of firing.\ +Above the heights was the dark clear sky, and to the right the vast orb\ +of the sun. In front, far off on the farther shore of that sea of mist,\ +some wooded hills were discernible, and it was there the enemy probably\ +was, for something could be descried. On the right the Guards were\ +entering the misty region with a sound of hoofs and wheels and now and\ +then a gleam of bayonets; to the left beyond the village similar masses\ +of cavalry came up and disappeared in the sea of mist. In front and\ +behind moved infantry. The commander-in-chief was standing at the end of\ +the village letting the troops pass by him. That morning Kutuzov seemed\ +worn and irritable. The infantry passing before him came to a halt\ +without any command being given, apparently obstructed by something in\ +front.\ +\ +"Do order them to form into battalion columns and go round the village!"\ +he said angrily to a general who had ridden up. "Don't you understand,\ +your excellency, my dear sir, that you must not defile through narrow\ +village streets when we are marching against the enemy?"\ +\ +"I intended to re-form them beyond the village, your excellency,"\ +answered the general.\ +\ +Kutuzov laughed bitterly.\ +\ +"You'll make a fine thing of it, deploying in sight of the enemy! Very\ +fine!"\ +\ +"The enemy is still far away, your excellency. According to the\ +dispositions..."\ +\ +"The dispositions!" exclaimed Kutuzov bitterly. "Who told you that?...\ +Kindly do as you are ordered."\ +\ +"Yes, sir."\ +\ +"My dear fellow," Nesvitski whispered to Prince Andrew, "the old man is\ +as surly as a dog."\ +\ +An Austrian officer in a white uniform with green plumes in his hat\ +galloped up to Kutuzov and asked in the Emperor's name had the fourth\ +column advanced into action.\ +\ +Kutuzov turned round without answering and his eye happened to fall upon\ +Prince Andrew, who was beside him. Seeing him, Kutuzov's malevolent and\ +caustic expression softened, as if admitting that what was being done\ +was not his adjutant's fault, and still not answering the Austrian\ +adjutant, he addressed Bolkonski.\ +\ +"Go, my dear fellow, and see whether the third division has passed the\ +village. Tell it to stop and await my orders."\ +\ +Hardly had Prince Andrew started than he stopped him.\ +\ +"And ask whether sharpshooters have been posted," he added. "What are\ +they doing? What are they doing?" he murmured to himself, still not\ +replying to the Austrian.\ +\ +Prince Andrew galloped off to execute the order.\ +\ +Overtaking the battalions that continued to advance, he stopped the\ +third division and convinced himself that there really were no\ +sharpshooters in front of our columns. The colonel at the head of the\ +regiment was much surprised at the commander-in-chief's order to throw\ +out skirmishers. He had felt perfectly sure that there were other troops\ +in front of him and that the enemy must be at least six miles away.\ +There was really nothing to be seen in front except a barren descent\ +hidden by dense mist. Having given orders in the commander-in-chief's\ +name to rectify this omission, Prince Andrew galloped back. Kutuzov\ +still in the same place, his stout body resting heavily in the saddle\ +with the lassitude of age, sat yawning wearily with closed eyes. The\ +troops were no longer moving, but stood with the butts of their muskets\ +on the ground.\ +\ +"All right, all right!" he said to Prince Andrew, and turned to a\ +general who, watch in hand, was saying it was time they started as all\ +the left-flank columns had already descended.\ +\ +"Plenty of time, your excellency," muttered Kutuzov in the midst of a\ +yawn. "Plenty of time," he repeated.\ +\ +Just then at a distance behind Kutuzov was heard the sound of regiments\ +saluting, and this sound rapidly came nearer along the whole extended\ +line of the advancing Russian columns. Evidently the person they were\ +greeting was riding quickly. When the soldiers of the regiment in front\ +of which Kutuzov was standing began to shout, he rode a little to one\ +side and looked round with a frown. Along the road from Pratzen galloped\ +what looked like a squadron of horsemen in various uniforms. Two of them\ +rode side by side in front, at full gallop. One in a black uniform with\ +white plumes in his hat rode a bobtailed chestnut horse, the other who\ +was in a white uniform rode a black one. These were the two Emperors\ +followed by their suites. Kutuzov, affecting the manners of an old\ +soldier at the front, gave the command "Attention!" and rode up to the\ +Emperors with a salute. His whole appearance and manner were suddenly\ +transformed. He put on the air of a subordinate who obeys without\ +reasoning. With an affectation of respect which evidently struck\ +Alexander unpleasantly, he rode up and saluted.\ +\ +This unpleasant impression merely flitted over the young and happy face\ +of the Emperor like a cloud of haze across a clear sky and vanished.\ +After his illness he looked rather thinner that day than on the field of\ +Olmutz where Bolkonski had seen him for the first time abroad, but there\ +was still the same bewitching combination of majesty and mildness in his\ +fine gray eyes, and on his delicate lips the same capacity for varying\ +expression and the same prevalent appearance of goodhearted innocent\ +youth.\ +\ +At the Olmutz review he had seemed more majestic; here he seemed\ +brighter and more energetic. He was slightly flushed after galloping two\ +miles, and reining in his horse he sighed restfully and looked round at\ +the faces of his suite, young and animated as his own. Czartoryski,\ +Novosiltsev, Prince Volkonsky, Strogonov, and the others, all richly\ +dressed gay young men on splendid, well-groomed, fresh, only slightly\ +heated horses, exchanging remarks and smiling, had stopped behind the\ +Emperor. The Emperor Francis, a rosy, long faced young man, sat very\ +erect on his handsome black horse, looking about him in a leisurely and\ +preoccupied manner. He beckoned to one of his white adjutants and asked\ +some question--"Most likely he is asking at what o'clock they started,"\ +thought Prince Andrew, watching his old acquaintance with a smile he\ +could not repress as he recalled his reception at Brunn. In the\ +Emperors' suite were the picked young orderly officers of the Guard and\ +line regiments, Russian and Austrian. Among them were grooms leading the\ +Tsar's beautiful relay horses covered with embroidered cloths.\ +\ +As when a window is opened a whiff of fresh air from the fields enters a\ +stuffy room, so a whiff of youthfulness, energy, and confidence of\ +success reached Kutuzov's cheerless staff with the galloping advent of\ +all these brilliant young men.\ +\ +"Why aren't you beginning, Michael Ilarionovich?" said the Emperor\ +Alexander hurriedly to Kutuzov, glancing courteously at the same time at\ +the Emperor Francis.\ +\ +"I am waiting, Your Majesty," answered Kutuzov, bending forward\ +respectfully.\ +\ +The Emperor, frowning slightly, bent his ear forward as if he had not\ +quite heard.\ +\ +"Waiting, Your Majesty," repeated Kutuzov. (Prince Andrew noted that\ +Kutuzov's upper lip twitched unnaturally as he said the word "waiting.")\ +"Not all the columns have formed up yet, Your Majesty."\ +\ +The Tsar heard but obviously did not like the reply; he shrugged his\ +rather round shoulders and glanced at Novosiltsev who was near him, as\ +if complaining of Kutuzov.\ +\ +"You know, Michael Ilarionovich, we are not on the Empress' Field where\ +a parade does not begin till all the troops are assembled," said the\ +Tsar with another glance at the Emperor Francis, as if inviting him if\ +not to join in at least to listen to what he was saying. But the Emperor\ +Francis continued to look about him and did not listen.\ +\ +"That is just why I do not begin, sire," said Kutuzov in a resounding\ +voice, apparently to preclude the possibility of not being heard, and\ +again something in his face twitched--"That is just why I do not begin,\ +sire, because we are not on parade and not on the Empress' Field," said\ +clearly and distinctly.\ +\ +In the Emperor's suite all exchanged rapid looks that expressed\ +dissatisfaction and reproach. "Old though he may be, he should not, he\ +certainly should not, speak like that," their glances seemed to say.\ +\ +The Tsar looked intently and observantly into Kutuzov's eye waiting to\ +hear whether he would say anything more. But Kutuzov, with respectfully\ +bowed head, seemed also to be waiting. The silence lasted for about a\ +minute.\ +\ +"However, if you command it, Your Majesty," said Kutuzov, lifting his\ +head and again assuming his former tone of a dull, unreasoning, but\ +submissive general.\ +\ +He touched his horse and having called Miloradovich, the commander of\ +the column, gave him the order to advance.\ +\ +The troops again began to move, and two battalions of the Novgorod and\ +one of the Apsheron regiment went forward past the Emperor.\ +\ +As this Apsheron battalion marched by, the red-faced Miloradovich,\ +without his greatcoat, with his Orders on his breast and an enormous\ +tuft of plumes in his cocked hat worn on one side with its corners front\ +and back, galloped strenuously forward, and with a dashing salute reined\ +in his horse before the Emperor.\ +\ +"God be with you, general!" said the Emperor.\ +\ +"Ma foi, sire, nous ferons ce qui sera dans notre possibilite, sire," *\ +he answered gaily, raising nevertheless ironic smiles among the\ +gentlemen of the Tsar's suite by his poor French.\ +\ +\ +* "Indeed, Sire, we shall do everything it is possible to do, Sire."\ +\ +Miloradovich wheeled his horse sharply and stationed himself a little\ +behind the Emperor. The Apsheron men, excited by the Tsar's presence,\ +passed in step before the Emperors and their suites at a bold, brisk\ +pace.\ +\ +"Lads!" shouted Miloradovich in a loud, self-confident, and cheery\ +voice, obviously so elated by the sound of firing, by the prospect of\ +battle, and by the sight of the gallant Apsherons, his comrades in\ +Suvorov's time, now passing so gallantly before the Emperors, that he\ +forgot the sovereigns' presence. "Lads, it's not the first village\ +you've had to take," cried he.\ +\ +"Glad to do our best!" shouted the soldiers.\ +\ +The Emperor's horse started at the sudden cry. This horse that had\ +carried the sovereign at reviews in Russia bore him also here on the\ +field of Austerlitz, enduring the heedless blows of his left foot and\ +pricking its ears at the sound of shots just as it had done on the\ +Empress' Field, not understanding the significance of the firing, nor of\ +the nearness of the Emperor Francis' black cob, nor of all that was\ +being said, thought, and felt that day by its rider.\ +\ +The Emperor turned with a smile to one of his followers and made a\ +remark to him, pointing to the gallant Apsherons.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XVI\ +\ +Kutuzov accompanied by his adjutants rode at a walking pace behind the\ +carabineers.\ +\ +When he had gone less than half a mile in the rear of the column he\ +stopped at a solitary, deserted house that had probably once been an\ +inn, where two roads parted. Both of them led downhill and troops were\ +marching along both.\ +\ +The fog had begun to clear and enemy troops were already dimly visible\ +about a mile and a half off on the opposite heights. Down below, on the\ +left, the firing became more distinct. Kutuzov had stopped and was\ +speaking to an Austrian general. Prince Andrew, who was a little behind\ +looking at them, turned to an adjutant to ask him for a field glass.\ +\ +"Look, look!" said this adjutant, looking not at the troops in the\ +distance, but down the hill before him. "It's the French!"\ +\ +The two generals and the adjutant took hold of the field glass, trying\ +to snatch it from one another. The expression on all their faces\ +suddenly changed to one of horror. The French were supposed to be a mile\ +and a half away, but had suddenly and unexpectedly appeared just in\ +front of us.\ +\ +"It's the enemy?... No!... Yes, see it is!... for certain.... But how is\ +that?" said different voices.\ +\ +With the naked eye Prince Andrew saw below them to the right, not more\ +than five hundred paces from where Kutuzov was standing, a dense French\ +column coming up to meet the Apsherons.\ +\ +"Here it is! The decisive moment has arrived. My turn has come," thought\ +Prince Andrew, and striking his horse he rode up to Kutuzov.\ +\ +"The Apsherons must be stopped, your excellency," cried he. But at that\ +very instant a cloud of smoke spread all round, firing was heard quite\ +close at hand, and a voice of naive terror barely two steps from Prince\ +Andrew shouted, "Brothers! All's lost!" And at this as if at a command,\ +everyone began to run.\ +\ +Confused and ever-increasing crowds were running back to where five\ +minutes before the troops had passed the Emperors. Not only would it\ +have been difficult to stop that crowd, it was even impossible not to be\ +carried back with it oneself. Bolkonski only tried not to lose touch\ +with it, and looked around bewildered and unable to grasp what was\ +happening in front of him. Nesvitski with an angry face, red and unlike\ +himself, was shouting to Kutuzov that if he did not ride away at once he\ +would certainly be taken prisoner. Kutuzov remained in the same place\ +and without answering drew out a handkerchief. Blood was flowing from\ +his cheek. Prince Andrew forced his way to him.\ +\ +"You are wounded?" he asked, hardly able to master the trembling of his\ +lower jaw.\ +\ +"The wound is not here, it is there!" said Kutuzov, pressing the\ +handkerchief to his wounded cheek and pointing to the fleeing soldiers.\ +"Stop them!" he shouted, and at the same moment, probably realizing that\ +it was impossible to stop them, spurred his horse and rode to the right.\ +\ +A fresh wave of the flying mob caught him and bore him back with it.\ +\ +The troops were running in such a dense mass that once surrounded by\ +them it was difficult to get out again. One was shouting, "Get on! Why\ +are you hindering us?" Another in the same place turned round and fired\ +in the air; a third was striking the horse Kutuzov himself rode. Having\ +by a great effort got away to the left from that flood of men, Kutuzov,\ +with his suite diminished by more than half, rode toward a sound of\ +artillery fire near by. Having forced his way out of the crowd of\ +fugitives, Prince Andrew, trying to keep near Kutuzov, saw on the slope\ +of the hill amid the smoke a Russian battery that was still firing and\ +Frenchmen running toward it. Higher up stood some Russian infantry,\ +neither moving forward to protect the battery nor backward with the\ +fleeing crowd. A mounted general separated himself from the infantry and\ +approached Kutuzov. Of Kutuzov's suite only four remained. They were all\ +pale and exchanged looks in silence.\ +\ +"Stop those wretches!" gasped Kutuzov to the regimental commander,\ +pointing to the flying soldiers; but at that instant, as if to punish\ +him for those words, bullets flew hissing across the regiment and across\ +Kutuzov's suite like a flock of little birds.\ +\ +The French had attacked the battery and, seeing Kutuzov, were firing at\ +him. After this volley the regimental commander clutched at his leg;\ +several soldiers fell, and a second lieutenant who was holding the flag\ +let it fall from his hands. It swayed and fell, but caught on the\ +muskets of the nearest soldiers. The soldiers started firing without\ +orders.\ +\ +"Oh! Oh! Oh!" groaned Kutuzov despairingly and looked around....\ +"Bolkonski!" he whispered, his voice trembling from a consciousness of\ +the feebleness of age, "Bolkonski!" he whispered, pointing to the\ +disordered battalion and at the enemy, "what's that?"\ +\ +But before he had finished speaking, Prince Andrew, feeling tears of\ +shame and anger choking him, had already leapt from his horse and run to\ +the standard.\ +\ +"Forward, lads!" he shouted in a voice piercing as a child's.\ +\ +"Here it is!" thought he, seizing the staff of the standard and hearing\ +with pleasure the whistle of bullets evidently aimed at him. Several\ +soldiers fell.\ +\ +"Hurrah!" shouted Prince Andrew, and, scarcely able to hold up the heavy\ +standard, he ran forward with full confidence that the whole battalion\ +would follow him.\ +\ +And really he only ran a few steps alone. One soldier moved and then\ +another and soon the whole battalion ran forward shouting "Hurrah!" and\ +overtook him. A sergeant of the battalion ran up and took the flag that\ +was swaying from its weight in Prince Andrew's hands, but he was\ +immediately killed. Prince Andrew again seized the standard and,\ +dragging it by the staff, ran on with the battalion. In front he saw our\ +artillerymen, some of whom were fighting, while others, having abandoned\ +their guns, were running toward him. He also saw French infantry\ +soldiers who were seizing the artillery horses and turning the guns\ +round. Prince Andrew and the battalion were already within twenty paces\ +of the cannon. He heard the whistle of bullets above him unceasingly and\ +to right and left of him soldiers continually groaned and dropped. But\ +he did not look at them: he looked only at what was going on in front of\ +him--at the battery. He now saw clearly the figure of a red-haired\ +gunner with his shako knocked awry, pulling one end of a mop while a\ +French soldier tugged at the other. He could distinctly see the\ +distraught yet angry expression on the faces of these two men, who\ +evidently did not realize what they were doing.\ +\ +"What are they about?" thought Prince Andrew as he gazed at them. "Why\ +doesn't the red-haired gunner run away as he is unarmed? Why doesn't the\ +Frenchman stab him? He will not get away before the Frenchman remembers\ +his bayonet and stabs him...."\ +\ +And really another French soldier, trailing his musket, ran up to the\ +struggling men, and the fate of the red-haired gunner, who had\ +triumphantly secured the mop and still did not realize what awaited him,\ +was about to be decided. But Prince Andrew did not see how it ended. It\ +seemed to him as though one of the soldiers near him hit him on the head\ +with the full swing of a bludgeon. It hurt a little, but the worst of it\ +was that the pain distracted him and prevented his seeing what he had\ +been looking at.\ +\ +"What's this? Am I falling? My legs are giving way," thought he, and\ +fell on his back. He opened his eyes, hoping to see how the struggle of\ +the Frenchmen with the gunners ended, whether the red-haired gunner had\ +been killed or not and whether the cannon had been captured or saved.\ +But he saw nothing. Above him there was now nothing but the sky--the\ +lofty sky, not clear yet still immeasurably lofty, with gray clouds\ +gliding slowly across it. "How quiet, peaceful, and solemn; not at all\ +as I ran," thought Prince Andrew--"not as we ran, shouting and fighting,\ +not at all as the gunner and the Frenchman with frightened and angry\ +faces struggled for the mop: how differently do those clouds glide\ +across that lofty infinite sky! How was it I did not see that lofty sky\ +before? And how happy I am to have found it at last! Yes! All is vanity,\ +all falsehood, except that infinite sky. There is nothing, nothing, but\ +that. But even it does not exist, there is nothing but quiet and peace.\ +Thank God!..."\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XVII\ +\ +On our right flank commanded by Bagration, at nine o'clock the battle\ +had not yet begun. Not wishing to agree to Dolgorukov's demand to\ +commence the action, and wishing to avert responsibility from himself,\ +Prince Bagration proposed to Dolgorukov to send to inquire of the\ +commander-in-chief. Bagration knew that as the distance between the two\ +flanks was more than six miles, even if the messenger were not killed\ +(which he very likely would be), and found the commander-in-chief (which\ +would be very difficult), he would not be able to get back before\ +evening.\ +\ +Bagration cast his large, expressionless, sleepy eyes round his suite,\ +and the boyish face Rostov, breathless with excitement and hope, was the\ +first to catch his eye. He sent him.\ +\ +"And if I should meet His Majesty before I meet the commander-in-chief,\ +your excellency?" said Rostov, with his hand to his cap.\ +\ +"You can give the message to His Majesty," said Dolgorukov, hurriedly\ +interrupting Bagration.\ +\ +On being relieved from picket duty Rostov had managed to get a few\ +hours' sleep before morning and felt cheerful, bold, and resolute, with\ +elasticity of movement, faith in his good fortune, and generally in that\ +state of mind which makes everything seem possible, pleasant, and easy.\ +\ +All his wishes were being fulfilled that morning: there was to be a\ +general engagement in which he was taking part, more than that, he was\ +orderly to the bravest general, and still more, he was going with a\ +message to Kutuzov, perhaps even to the sovereign himself. The morning\ +was bright, he had a good horse under him, and his heart was full of joy\ +and happiness. On receiving the order he gave his horse the rein and\ +galloped along the line. At first he rode along the line of Bagration's\ +troops, which had not yet advanced into action but were standing\ +motionless; then he came to the region occupied by Uvarov's cavalry and\ +here he noticed a stir and signs of preparation for battle; having\ +passed Uvarov's cavalry he clearly heard the sound of cannon and\ +musketry ahead of him. The firing grew louder and louder.\ +\ +In the fresh morning air were now heard, not two or three musket shots\ +at irregular intervals as before, followed by one or two cannon shots,\ +but a roll of volleys of musketry from the slopes of the hill before\ +Pratzen, interrupted by such frequent reports of cannon that sometimes\ +several of them were not separated from one another but merged into a\ +general roar.\ +\ +He could see puffs of musketry smoke that seemed to chase one another\ +down the hillsides, and clouds of cannon smoke rolling, spreading, and\ +mingling with one another. He could also, by the gleam of bayonets\ +visible through the smoke, make out moving masses of infantry and narrow\ +lines of artillery with green caissons.\ +\ +Rostov stopped his horse for a moment on a hillock to see what was going\ +on, but strain his attention as he would he could not understand or make\ +out anything of what was happening: there in the smoke men of some sort\ +were moving about, in front and behind moved lines of troops; but why,\ +whither, and who they were, it was impossible to make out. These sights\ +and sounds had no depressing or intimidating effect on him; on the\ +contrary, they stimulated his energy and determination.\ +\ +"Go on! Go on! Give it them!" he mentally exclaimed at these sounds, and\ +again proceeded to gallop along the line, penetrating farther and\ +farther into the region where the army was already in action.\ +\ +"How it will be there I don't know, but all will be well!" thought\ +Rostov.\ +\ +After passing some Austrian troops he noticed that the next part of the\ +line (the Guards) was already in action.\ +\ +"So much the better! I shall see it close," he thought.\ +\ +He was riding almost along the front line. A handful of men came\ +galloping toward him. They were our uhlans who with disordered ranks\ +were returning from the attack. Rostov got out of their way,\ +involuntarily noticed that one of them was bleeding, and galloped on.\ +\ +"That is no business of mine," he thought. He had not ridden many\ +hundred yards after that before he saw to his left, across the whole\ +width of the field, an enormous mass of cavalry in brilliant white\ +uniforms, mounted on black horses, trotting straight toward him and\ +across his path. Rostov put his horse to full gallop to get out of the\ +way of these men, and he would have got clear had they continued at the\ +same speed, but they kept increasing their pace, so that some of the\ +horses were already galloping. Rostov heard the thud of their hoofs and\ +the jingle of their weapons and saw their horses, their figures, and\ +even their faces, more and more distinctly. They were our Horse Guards,\ +advancing to attack the French cavalry that was coming to meet them.\ +\ +The Horse Guards were galloping, but still holding in their horses.\ +Rostov could already see their faces and heard the command: "Charge!"\ +shouted by an officer who was urging his thoroughbred to full speed.\ +Rostov, fearing to be crushed or swept into the attack on the French,\ +galloped along the front as hard as his horse could go, but still was\ +not in time to avoid them.\ +\ +The last of the Horse Guards, a huge pockmarked fellow, frowned angrily\ +on seeing Rostov before him, with whom he would inevitably collide. This\ +Guardsman would certainly have bowled Rostov and his Bedouin over\ +(Rostov felt himself quite tiny and weak compared to these gigantic men\ +and horses) had it not occurred to Rostov to flourish his whip before\ +the eyes of the Guardsman's horse. The heavy black horse, sixteen hands\ +high, shied, throwing back its ears; but the pockmarked Guardsman drove\ +his huge spurs in violently, and the horse, flourishing its tail and\ +extending its neck, galloped on yet faster. Hardly had the Horse Guards\ +passed Rostov before he heard them shout, "Hurrah!" and looking back saw\ +that their foremost ranks were mixed up with some foreign cavalry with\ +red epaulets, probably French. He could see nothing more, for\ +immediately afterwards cannon began firing from somewhere and smoke\ +enveloped everything.\ +\ +At that moment, as the Horse Guards, having passed him, disappeared in\ +the smoke, Rostov hesitated whether to gallop after them or to go where\ +he was sent. This was the brilliant charge of the Horse Guards that\ +amazed the French themselves. Rostov was horrified to hear later that of\ +all that mass of huge and handsome men, of all those brilliant, rich\ +youths, officers and cadets, who had galloped past him on their\ +thousand-ruble horses, only eighteen were left after the charge.\ +\ +"Why should I envy them? My chance is not lost, and maybe I shall see\ +the Emperor immediately!" thought Rostov and galloped on.\ +\ +When he came level with the Foot Guards he noticed that about them and\ +around them cannon balls were flying, of which he was aware not so much\ +because he heard their sound as because he saw uneasiness on the\ +soldiers' faces and unnatural warlike solemnity on those of the\ +officers.\ +\ +Passing behind one of the lines of a regiment of Foot Guards he heard a\ +voice calling him by name.\ +\ +"Rostov!"\ +\ +"What?" he answered, not recognizing Boris.\ +\ +"I say, we've been in the front line! Our regiment attacked!" said Boris\ +with the happy smile seen on the faces of young men who have been under\ +fire for the first time.\ +\ +Rostov stopped.\ +\ +"Have you?" he said. "Well, how did it go?"\ +\ +"We drove them back!" said Boris with animation, growing talkative. "Can\ +you imagine it?" and he began describing how the Guards, having taken up\ +their position and seeing troops before them, thought they were\ +Austrians, and all at once discovered from the cannon balls discharged\ +by those troops that they were themselves in the front line and had\ +unexpectedly to go into action. Rostov without hearing Boris to the end\ +spurred his horse.\ +\ +"Where are you off to?" asked Boris.\ +\ +"With a message to His Majesty."\ +\ +"There he is!" said Boris, thinking Rostov had said "His Highness," and\ +pointing to the Grand Duke who with his high shoulders and frowning\ +brows stood a hundred paces away from them in his helmet and Horse\ +Guards' jacket, shouting something to a pale, white uniformed Austrian\ +officer.\ +\ +"But that's the Grand Duke, and I want the commander-in-chief or the\ +Emperor," said Rostov, and was about to spur his horse.\ +\ +"Count! Count!" shouted Berg who ran up from the other side as eager as\ +Boris. "Count! I am wounded in my right hand" (and he showed his\ +bleeding hand with a handkerchief tied round it) "and I remained at the\ +front. I held my sword in my left hand, Count. All our family--the von\ +Bergs--have been knights!"\ +\ +He said something more, but Rostov did not wait to hear it and rode\ +away.\ +\ +Having passed the Guards and traversed an empty space, Rostov, to avoid\ +again getting in front of the first line as he had done when the Horse\ +Guards charged, followed the line of reserves, going far round the place\ +where the hottest musket fire and cannonade were heard. Suddenly he\ +heard musket fire quite close in front of him and behind our troops,\ +where he could never have expected the enemy to be.\ +\ +"What can it be?" he thought. "The enemy in the rear of our army?\ +Impossible!" And suddenly he was seized by a panic of fear for himself\ +and for the issue of the whole battle. "But be that what it may," he\ +reflected, "there is no riding round it now. I must look for the\ +commander in chief here, and if all is lost it is for me to perish with\ +the rest."\ +\ +The foreboding of evil that had suddenly come over Rostov was more and\ +more confirmed the farther he rode into the region behind the village of\ +Pratzen, which was full of troops of all kinds.\ +\ +"What does it mean? What is it? Whom are they firing at? Who is firing?"\ +Rostov kept asking as he came up to Russian and Austrian soldiers\ +running in confused crowds across his path.\ +\ +"The devil knows! They've killed everybody! It's all up now!" he was\ +told in Russian, German, and Czech by the crowd of fugitives who\ +understood what was happening as little as he did.\ +\ +"Kill the Germans!" shouted one.\ +\ +"May the devil take them--the traitors!"\ +\ +"Zum Henker diese Russen!" * muttered a German.\ +\ +\ +* "Hang these Russians!"\ +\ +Several wounded men passed along the road, and words of abuse, screams,\ +and groans mingled in a general hubbub, then the firing died down.\ +Rostov learned later that Russian and Austrian soldiers had been firing\ +at one another.\ +\ +"My God! What does it all mean?" thought he. "And here, where at any\ +moment the Emperor may see them.... But no, these must be only a handful\ +of scoundrels. It will soon be over, it can't be that, it can't be! Only\ +to get past them quicker, quicker!"\ +\ +The idea of defeat and flight could not enter Rostov's head. Though he\ +saw French cannon and French troops on the Pratzen Heights just where he\ +had been ordered to look for the commander-in-chief, he could not, did\ +not wish to, believe that.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XVIII\ +\ +Rostov had been ordered to look for Kutuzov and the Emperor near the\ +village of Pratzen. But neither they nor a single commanding officer\ +were there, only disorganized crowds of troops of various kinds. He\ +urged on his already weary horse to get quickly past these crowds, but\ +the farther he went the more disorganized they were. The highroad on\ +which he had come out was thronged with caleches, carriages of all\ +sorts, and Russian and Austrian soldiers of all arms, some wounded and\ +some not. This whole mass droned and jostled in confusion under the\ +dismal influence of cannon balls flying from the French batteries\ +stationed on the Pratzen Heights.\ +\ +"Where is the Emperor? Where is Kutuzov?" Rostov kept asking everyone he\ +could stop, but got no answer from anyone.\ +\ +At last seizing a soldier by his collar he forced him to answer.\ +\ +"Eh, brother! They've all bolted long ago!" said the soldier, laughing\ +for some reason and shaking himself free.\ +\ +Having left that soldier who was evidently drunk, Rostov stopped the\ +horse of a batman or groom of some important personage and began to\ +question him. The man announced that the Tsar had been driven in a\ +carriage at full speed about an hour before along that very road and\ +that he was dangerously wounded.\ +\ +"It can't be!" said Rostov. "It must have been someone else."\ +\ +"I saw him myself," replied the man with a self-confident smile of\ +derision. "I ought to know the Emperor by now, after the times I've seen\ +him in Petersburg. I saw him just as I see you.... There he sat in the\ +carriage as pale as anything. How they made the four black horses fly!\ +Gracious me, they did rattle past! It's time I knew the Imperial horses\ +and Ilya Ivanych. I don't think Ilya drives anyone except the Tsar!"\ +\ +Rostov let go of the horse and was about to ride on, when a wounded\ +officer passing by addressed him:\ +\ +"Who is it you want?" he asked. "The commander-in-chief? He was killed\ +by a cannon ball--struck in the breast before our regiment."\ +\ +"Not killed--wounded!" another officer corrected him.\ +\ +"Who? Kutuzov?" asked Rostov.\ +\ +"Not Kutuzov, but what's his name--well, never mind... there are not\ +many left alive. Go that way, to that village, all the commanders are\ +there," said the officer, pointing to the village of Hosjeradek, and he\ +walked on.\ +\ +Rostov rode on at a footpace not knowing why or to whom he was now\ +going. The Emperor was wounded, the battle lost. It was impossible to\ +doubt it now. Rostov rode in the direction pointed out to him, in which\ +he saw turrets and a church. What need to hurry? What was he now to say\ +to the Tsar or to Kutuzov, even if they were alive and unwounded?\ +\ +"Take this road, your honor, that way you will be killed at once!" a\ +soldier shouted to him. "They'd kill you there!"\ +\ +"Oh, what are you talking about?" said another. "Where is he to go? That\ +way is nearer."\ +\ +Rostov considered, and then went in the direction where they said he\ +would be killed.\ +\ +"It's all the same now. If the Emperor is wounded, am I to try to save\ +myself?" he thought. He rode on to the region where the greatest number\ +of men had perished in fleeing from Pratzen. The French had not yet\ +occupied that region, and the Russians--the uninjured and slightly\ +wounded--had left it long ago. All about the field, like heaps of manure\ +on well-kept plowland, lay from ten to fifteen dead and wounded to each\ +couple of acres. The wounded crept together in twos and threes and one\ +could hear their distressing screams and groans, sometimes feigned--or\ +so it seemed to Rostov. He put his horse to a trot to avoid seeing all\ +these suffering men, and he felt afraid--afraid not for his life, but\ +for the courage he needed and which he knew would not stand the sight of\ +these unfortunates.\ +\ +The French, who had ceased firing at this field strewn with dead and\ +wounded where there was no one left to fire at, on seeing an adjutant\ +riding over it trained a gun on him and fired several shots. The\ +sensation of those terrible whistling sounds and of the corpses around\ +him merged in Rostov's mind into a single feeling of terror and pity for\ +himself. He remembered his mother's last letter. "What would she feel,"\ +thought he, "if she saw me here now on this field with the cannon aimed\ +at me?"\ +\ +In the village of Hosjeradek there were Russian troops retiring from the\ +field of battle, who though still in some confusion were less\ +disordered. The French cannon did not reach there and the musketry fire\ +sounded far away. Here everyone clearly saw and said that the battle was\ +lost. No one whom Rostov asked could tell him where the Emperor or\ +Kutuzov was. Some said the report that the Emperor was wounded was\ +correct, others that it was not, and explained the false rumor that had\ +spread by the fact that the Emperor's carriage had really galloped from\ +the field of battle with the pale and terrified Ober-Hofmarschal Count\ +Tolstoy, who had ridden out to the battlefield with others in the\ +Emperor's suite. One officer told Rostov that he had seen someone from\ +headquarters behind the village to the left, and thither Rostov rode,\ +not hoping to find anyone but merely to ease his conscience. When he had\ +ridden about two miles and had passed the last of the Russian troops, he\ +saw, near a kitchen garden with a ditch round it, two men on horseback\ +facing the ditch. One with a white plume in his hat seemed familiar to\ +Rostov; the other on a beautiful chestnut horse (which Rostov fancied he\ +had seen before) rode up to the ditch, struck his horse with his spurs,\ +and giving it the rein leaped lightly over. Only a little earth crumbled\ +from the bank under the horse's hind hoofs. Turning the horse sharply,\ +he again jumped the ditch, and deferentially addressed the horseman with\ +the white plumes, evidently suggesting that he should do the same. The\ +rider, whose figure seemed familiar to Rostov and involuntarily riveted\ +his attention, made a gesture of refusal with his head and hand and by\ +that gesture Rostov instantly recognized his lamented and adored\ +monarch.\ +\ +"But it can't be he, alone in the midst of this empty field!" thought\ +Rostov. At that moment Alexander turned his head and Rostov saw the\ +beloved features that were so deeply engraved on his memory. The Emperor\ +was pale, his cheeks sunken and his eyes hollow, but the charm, the\ +mildness of his features, was all the greater. Rostov was happy in the\ +assurance that the rumors about the Emperor being wounded were false. He\ +was happy to be seeing him. He knew that he might and even ought to go\ +straight to him and give the message Dolgorukov had ordered him to\ +deliver.\ +\ +But as a youth in love trembles, is unnerved, and dares not utter the\ +thoughts he has dreamed of for nights, but looks around for help or a\ +chance of delay and flight when the longed-for moment comes and he is\ +alone with her, so Rostov, now that he had attained what he had longed\ +for more than anything else in the world, did not know how to approach\ +the Emperor, and a thousand reasons occurred to him why it would be\ +inconvenient, unseemly, and impossible to do so.\ +\ +"What! It is as if I were glad of a chance to take advantage of his\ +being alone and despondent! A strange face may seem unpleasant or\ +painful to him at this moment of sorrow; besides, what can I say to him\ +now, when my heart fails me and my mouth feels dry at the mere sight of\ +him?" Not one of the innumerable speeches addressed to the Emperor that\ +he had composed in his imagination could he now recall. Those speeches\ +were intended for quite other conditions, they were for the most part to\ +be spoken at a moment of victory and triumph, generally when he was\ +dying of wounds and the sovereign had thanked him for heroic deeds, and\ +while dying he expressed the love his actions had proved.\ +\ +"Besides how can I ask the Emperor for his instructions for the right\ +flank now that it is nearly four o'clock and the battle is lost? No,\ +certainly I must not approach him, I must not intrude on his\ +reflections. Better die a thousand times than risk receiving an unkind\ +look or bad opinion from him," Rostov decided; and sorrowfully and with\ +a heart full despair he rode away, continually looking back at the Tsar,\ +who still remained in the same attitude of indecision.\ +\ +While Rostov was thus arguing with himself and riding sadly away,\ +Captain von Toll chanced to ride to the same spot, and seeing the\ +Emperor at once rode up to him, offered his services, and assisted him\ +to cross the ditch on foot. The Emperor, wishing to rest and feeling\ +unwell, sat down under an apple tree and von Toll remained beside him.\ +Rostov from a distance saw with envy and remorse how von Toll spoke long\ +and warmly to the Emperor and how the Emperor, evidently weeping,\ +covered his eyes with his hand and pressed von Toll's hand.\ +\ +"And I might have been in his place!" thought Rostov, and hardly\ +restraining his tears of pity for the Emperor, he rode on in utter\ +despair, not knowing where to or why he was now riding.\ +\ +His despair was all the greater from feeling that his own weakness was\ +the cause of his grief.\ +\ +He might... not only might but should, have gone up to the sovereign. It\ +was a unique chance to show his devotion to the Emperor and he had not\ +made use of it.... "What have I done?" thought he. And he turned round\ +and galloped back to the place where he had seen the Emperor, but there\ +was no one beyond the ditch now. Only some carts and carriages were\ +passing by. From one of the drivers he learned that Kutuzov's staff were\ +not far off, in the village the vehicles were going to. Rostov followed\ +them. In front of him walked Kutuzov's groom leading horses in\ +horsecloths. Then came a cart, and behind that walked an old, bandy-\ +legged domestic serf in a peaked cap and sheepskin coat.\ +\ +"Tit! I say, Tit!" said the groom.\ +\ +"What?" answered the old man absent-mindedly.\ +\ +"Go, Tit! Thresh a bit!"\ +\ +"Oh, you fool!" said the old man, spitting angrily. Some time passed in\ +silence, and then the same joke was repeated.\ +\ +Before five in the evening the battle had been lost at all points. More\ +than a hundred cannon were already in the hands of the French.\ +\ +Przebyszewski and his corps had laid down their arms. Other columns\ +after losing half their men were retreating in disorderly confused\ +masses.\ +\ +The remains of Langeron's and Dokhturov's mingled forces were crowding\ +around the dams and banks of the ponds near the village of Augesd.\ +\ +After five o'clock it was only at the Augesd Dam that a hot cannonade\ +(delivered by the French alone) was still to be heard from numerous\ +batteries ranged on the slopes of the Pratzen Heights, directed at our\ +retreating forces.\ +\ +In the rearguard, Dokhturov and others rallying some battalions kept up\ +a musketry fire at the French cavalry that was pursuing our troops. It\ +was growing dusk. On the narrow Augesd Dam where for so many years the\ +old miller had been accustomed to sit in his tasseled cap peacefully\ +angling, while his grandson, with shirt sleeves rolled up, handled the\ +floundering silvery fish in the watering can, on that dam over which for\ +so many years Moravians in shaggy caps and blue jackets had peacefully\ +driven their two-horse carts loaded with wheat and had returned dusty\ +with flour whitening their carts--on that narrow dam amid the wagons and\ +the cannon, under the horses' hoofs and between the wagon wheels, men\ +disfigured by fear of death now crowded together, crushing one another,\ +dying, stepping over the dying and killing one another, only to move on\ +a few steps and be killed themselves in the same way.\ +\ +Every ten seconds a cannon ball flew compressing the air around, or a\ +shell burst in the midst of that dense throng, killing some and\ +splashing with blood those near them.\ +\ +Dolokhov--now an officer--wounded in the arm, and on foot, with the\ +regimental commander on horseback and some ten men of his company,\ +represented all that was left of that whole regiment. Impelled by the\ +crowd, they had got wedged in at the approach to the dam and, jammed in\ +on all sides, had stopped because a horse in front had fallen under a\ +cannon and the crowd were dragging it out. A cannon ball killed someone\ +behind them, another fell in front and splashed Dolokhov with blood. The\ +crowd, pushing forward desperately, squeezed together, moved a few\ +steps, and again stopped.\ +\ +"Move on a hundred yards and we are certainly saved, remain here another\ +two minutes and it is certain death," thought each one.\ +\ +Dolokhov who was in the midst of the crowd forced his way to the edge of\ +the dam, throwing two soldiers off their feet, and ran onto the slippery\ +ice that covered the millpool.\ +\ +"Turn this way!" he shouted, jumping over the ice which creaked under\ +him; "turn this way!" he shouted to those with the gun. "It bears!..."\ +\ +The ice bore him but it swayed and creaked, and it was plain that it\ +would give way not only under a cannon or a crowd, but very soon even\ +under his weight alone. The men looked at him and pressed to the bank,\ +hesitating to step onto the ice. The general on horseback at the\ +entrance to the dam raised his hand and opened his mouth to address\ +Dolokhov. Suddenly a cannon ball hissed so low above the crowd that\ +everyone ducked. It flopped into something moist, and the general fell\ +from his horse in a pool of blood. Nobody gave him a look or thought of\ +raising him.\ +\ +"Get onto the ice, over the ice! Go on! Turn! Don't you hear? Go on!"\ +innumerable voices suddenly shouted after the ball had struck the\ +general, the men themselves not knowing what, or why, they were\ +shouting.\ +\ +One of the hindmost guns that was going onto the dam turned off onto the\ +ice. Crowds of soldiers from the dam began running onto the frozen pond.\ +The ice gave way under one of the foremost soldiers, and one leg slipped\ +into the water. He tried to right himself but fell in up to his waist.\ +The nearest soldiers shrank back, the gun driver stopped his horse, but\ +from behind still came the shouts: "Onto the ice, why do you stop? Go\ +on! Go on!" And cries of horror were heard in the crowd. The soldiers\ +near the gun waved their arms and beat the horses to make them turn and\ +move on. The horses moved off the bank. The ice, that had held under\ +those on foot, collapsed in a great mass, and some forty men who were on\ +it dashed, some forward and some back, drowning one another.\ +\ +Still the cannon balls continued regularly to whistle and flop onto the\ +ice and into the water and oftenest of all among the crowd that covered\ +the dam, the pond, and the bank.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XIX\ +\ +On the Pratzen Heights, where he had fallen with the flagstaff in his\ +hand, lay Prince Andrew Bolkonski bleeding profusely and unconsciously\ +uttering a gentle, piteous, and childlike moan.\ +\ +Toward evening he ceased moaning and became quite still. He did not know\ +how long his unconsciousness lasted. Suddenly he again felt that he was\ +alive and suffering from a burning, lacerating pain in his head.\ +\ +"Where is it, that lofty sky that I did not know till now, but saw\ +today?" was his first thought. "And I did not know this suffering\ +either," he thought. "Yes, I did not know anything, anything at all till\ +now. But where am I?"\ +\ +He listened and heard the sound of approaching horses, and voices\ +speaking French. He opened his eyes. Above him again was the same lofty\ +sky with clouds that had risen and were floating still higher, and\ +between them gleamed blue infinity. He did not turn his head and did not\ +see those who, judging by the sound of hoofs and voices, had ridden up\ +and stopped near him.\ +\ +It was Napoleon accompanied by two aides-de-camp. Bonaparte riding over\ +the battlefield had given final orders to strengthen the batteries\ +firing at the Augesd Dam and was looking at the killed and wounded left\ +on the field.\ +\ +"Fine men!" remarked Napoleon, looking at a dead Russian grenadier, who,\ +with his face buried in the ground and a blackened nape, lay on his\ +stomach with an already stiffened arm flung wide.\ +\ +"The ammunition for the guns in position is exhausted, Your Majesty,"\ +said an adjutant who had come from the batteries that were firing at\ +Augesd.\ +\ +"Have some brought from the reserve," said Napoleon, and having gone on\ +a few steps he stopped before Prince Andrew, who lay on his back with\ +the flagstaff that had been dropped beside him. (The flag had already\ +been taken by the French as a trophy.)\ +\ +"That's a fine death!" said Napoleon as he gazed at Bolkonski.\ +\ +Prince Andrew understood that this was said of him and that it was\ +Napoleon who said it. He heard the speaker addressed as Sire. But he\ +heard the words as he might have heard the buzzing of a fly. Not only\ +did they not interest him, but he took no notice of them and at once\ +forgot them. His head was burning, he felt himself bleeding to death,\ +and he saw above him the remote, lofty, and everlasting sky. He knew it\ +was Napoleon--his hero--but at that moment Napoleon seemed to him such a\ +small, insignificant creature compared with what was passing now between\ +himself and that lofty infinite sky with the clouds flying over it. At\ +that moment it meant nothing to him who might be standing over him, or\ +what was said of him; he was only glad that people were standing near\ +him and only wished that they would help him and bring him back to life,\ +which seemed to him so beautiful now that he had today learned to\ +understand it so differently. He collected all his strength, to stir and\ +utter a sound. He feebly moved his leg and uttered a weak, sickly groan\ +which aroused his own pity.\ +\ +"Ah! He is alive," said Napoleon. "Lift this young man up and carry him\ +to the dressing station."\ +\ +Having said this, Napoleon rode on to meet Marshal Lannes, who, hat in\ +hand, rode up smiling to the Emperor to congratulate him on the victory.\ +\ +Prince Andrew remembered nothing more: he lost consciousness from the\ +terrible pain of being lifted onto the stretcher, the jolting while\ +being moved, and the probing of his wound at the dressing station. He\ +did not regain consciousness till late in the day, when with other\ +wounded and captured Russian officers he was carried to the hospital.\ +During this transfer he felt a little stronger and was able to look\ +about him and even speak.\ +\ +The first words he heard on coming to his senses were those of a French\ +convoy officer, who said rapidly: "We must halt here: the Emperor will\ +pass here immediately; it will please him to see these gentlemen\ +prisoners."\ +\ +"There are so many prisoners today, nearly the whole Russian army, that\ +he is probably tired of them," said another officer.\ +\ +"All the same! They say this one is the commander of all the Emperor\ +Alexander's Guards," said the first one, indicating a Russian officer in\ +the white uniform of the Horse Guards.\ +\ +Bolkonski recognized Prince Repnin whom he had met in Petersburg\ +society. Beside him stood a lad of nineteen, also a wounded officer of\ +the Horse Guards.\ +\ +Bonaparte, having come up at a gallop, stopped his horse.\ +\ +"Which is the senior?" he asked, on seeing the prisoners.\ +\ +They named the colonel, Prince Repnin.\ +\ +"You are the commander of the Emperor Alexander's regiment of Horse\ +Guards?" asked Napoleon.\ +\ +"I commanded a squadron," replied Repnin.\ +\ +"Your regiment fulfilled its duty honorably," said Napoleon.\ +\ +"The praise of a great commander is a soldier's highest reward," said\ +Repnin.\ +\ +"I bestow it with pleasure," said Napoleon. "And who is that young man\ +beside you?"\ +\ +Prince Repnin named Lieutenant Sukhtelen.\ +\ +After looking at him Napoleon smiled.\ +\ +"He's very young to come to meddle with us."\ +\ +"Youth is no hindrance to courage," muttered Sukhtelen in a failing\ +voice.\ +\ +"A splendid reply!" said Napoleon. "Young man, you will go far!"\ +\ +Prince Andrew, who had also been brought forward before the Emperor's\ +eyes to complete the show of prisoners, could not fail to attract his\ +attention. Napoleon apparently remembered seeing him on the battlefield\ +and, addressing him, again used the epithet "young man" that was\ +connected in his memory with Prince Andrew.\ +\ +"Well, and you, young man," said he. "How do you feel, mon brave?"\ +\ +Though five minutes before, Prince Andrew had been able to say a few\ +words to the soldiers who were carrying him, now with his eyes fixed\ +straight on Napoleon, he was silent.... So insignificant at that moment\ +seemed to him all the interests that engrossed Napoleon, so mean did his\ +hero himself with his paltry vanity and joy in victory appear, compared\ +to the lofty, equitable, and kindly sky which he had seen and\ +understood, that he could not answer him.\ +\ +Everything seemed so futile and insignificant in comparison with the\ +stern and solemn train of thought that weakness from loss of blood,\ +suffering, and the nearness of death aroused in him. Looking into\ +Napoleon's eyes Prince Andrew thought of the insignificance of\ +greatness, the unimportance of life which no one could understand, and\ +the still greater unimportance of death, the meaning of which no one\ +alive could understand or explain.\ +\ +The Emperor without waiting for an answer turned away and said to one of\ +the officers as he went: "Have these gentlemen attended to and taken to\ +my bivouac; let my doctor, Larrey, examine their wounds. Au revoir,\ +Prince Repnin!" and he spurred his horse and galloped away.\ +\ +His face shone with self-satisfaction and pleasure.\ +\ +The soldiers who had carried Prince Andrew had noticed and taken the\ +little gold icon Princess Mary had hung round her brother's neck, but\ +seeing the favor the Emperor showed the prisoners, they now hastened to\ +return the holy image.\ +\ +Prince Andrew did not see how and by whom it was replaced, but the\ +little icon with its thin gold chain suddenly appeared upon his chest\ +outside his uniform.\ +\ +"It would be good," thought Prince Andrew, glancing at the icon his\ +sister had hung round his neck with such emotion and reverence, "it\ +would be good if everything were as clear and simple as it seems to\ +Mary. How good it would be to know where to seek for help in this life,\ +and what to expect after it beyond the grave! How happy and calm I\ +should be if I could now say: 'Lord, have mercy on me!'... But to whom\ +should I say that? Either to a Power indefinable, incomprehensible,\ +which I not only cannot address but which I cannot even express in\ +words--the Great All or Nothing-" said he to himself, "or to that God\ +who has been sewn into this amulet by Mary! There is nothing certain,\ +nothing at all except the unimportance of everything I understand, and\ +the greatness of something incomprehensible but all-important."\ +\ +The stretchers moved on. At every jolt he again felt unendurable pain;\ +his feverishness increased and he grew delirious. Visions of his father,\ +wife, sister, and future son, and the tenderness he had felt the night\ +before the battle, the figure of the insignificant little Napoleon, and\ +above all this the lofty sky, formed the chief subjects of his delirious\ +fancies.\ +\ +The quiet home life and peaceful happiness of Bald Hills presented\ +itself to him. He was already enjoying that happiness when that little\ +Napoleon had suddenly appeared with his unsympathizing look of\ +shortsighted delight at the misery of others, and doubts and torments\ +had followed, and only the heavens promised peace. Toward morning all\ +these dreams melted and merged into the chaos and darkness of\ +unconciousness and oblivion which in the opinion of Napoleon's doctor,\ +Larrey, was much more likely to end in death than in convalescence.\ +\ +"He is a nervous, bilious subject," said Larrey, "and will not recover."\ +\ +And Prince Andrew, with others fatally wounded, was left to the care of\ +the inhabitants of the district.\ +\ +BOOK FOUR: 1806\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER I\ +\ +Early in the year 1806 Nicholas Rostov returned home on leave. Denisov\ +was going home to Voronezh and Rostov persuaded him to travel with him\ +as far as Moscow and to stay with him there. Meeting a comrade at the\ +last post station but one before Moscow, Denisov had drunk three bottles\ +of wine with him and, despite the jolting ruts across the snow-covered\ +road, did not once wake up on the way to Moscow, but lay at the bottom\ +of the sleigh beside Rostov, who grew more and more impatient the nearer\ +they got to Moscow.\ +\ +"How much longer? How much longer? Oh, these insufferable streets,\ +shops, bakers' signboards, street lamps, and sleighs!" thought Rostov,\ +when their leave permits had been passed at the town gate and they had\ +entered Moscow.\ +\ +"Denisov! We're here! He's asleep," he added, leaning forward with his\ +whole body as if in that position he hoped to hasten the speed of the\ +sleigh.\ +\ +Denisov gave no answer.\ +\ +"There's the corner at the crossroads, where the cabman, Zakhar, has his\ +stand, and there's Zakhar himself and still the same horse! And here's\ +the little shop where we used to buy gingerbread! Can't you hurry up?\ +Now then!"\ +\ +"Which house is it?" asked the driver.\ +\ +"Why, that one, right at the end, the big one. Don't you see? That's our\ +house," said Rostov. "Of course, it's our house! Denisov, Denisov! We're\ +almost there!"\ +\ +Denisov raised his head, coughed, and made no answer.\ +\ +"Dmitri," said Rostov to his valet on the box, "those lights are in our\ +house, aren't they?"\ +\ +"Yes, sir, and there's a light in your father's study."\ +\ +"Then they've not gone to bed yet? What do you think? Mind now, don't\ +forget to put out my new coat," added Rostov, fingering his new\ +mustache. "Now then, get on," he shouted to the driver. "Do wake up,\ +Vaska!" he went on, turning to Denisov, whose head was again nodding.\ +"Come, get on! You shall have three rubles for vodka--get on!" Rostov\ +shouted, when the sleigh was only three houses from his door. It seemed\ +to him the horses were not moving at all. At last the sleigh bore to the\ +right, drew up at an entrance, and Rostov saw overhead the old familiar\ +cornice with a bit of plaster broken off, the porch, and the post by the\ +side of the pavement. He sprang out before the sleigh stopped, and ran\ +into the hall. The house stood cold and silent, as if quite regardless\ +of who had come to it. There was no one in the hall. "Oh God! Is\ +everyone all right?" he thought, stopping for a moment with a sinking\ +heart, and then immediately starting to run along the hall and up the\ +warped steps of the familiar staircase. The well-known old door handle,\ +which always angered the countess when it was not properly cleaned,\ +turned as loosely as ever. A solitary tallow candle burned in the\ +anteroom.\ +\ +Old Michael was asleep on the chest. Prokofy, the footman, who was so\ +strong that he could lift the back of the carriage from behind, sat\ +plaiting slippers out of cloth selvedges. He looked up at the opening\ +door and his expression of sleepy indifference suddenly changed to one\ +of delighted amazement.\ +\ +"Gracious heavens! The young count!" he cried, recognizing his young\ +master. "Can it be? My treasure!" and Prokofy, trembling with\ +excitement, rushed toward the drawing-room door, probably in order to\ +announce him, but, changing his mind, came back and stooped to kiss the\ +young man's shoulder.\ +\ +"All well?" asked Rostov, drawing away his arm.\ +\ +"Yes, God be thanked! Yes! They've just finished supper. Let me have a\ +look at you, your excellency."\ +\ +"Is everything quite all right?"\ +\ +"The Lord be thanked, yes!"\ +\ +Rostov, who had completely forgotten Denisov, not wishing anyone to\ +forestall him, threw off his fur coat and ran on tiptoe through the\ +large dark ballroom. All was the same: there were the same old card\ +tables and the same chandelier with a cover over it; but someone had\ +already seen the young master, and, before he had reached the drawing\ +room, something flew out from a side door like a tornado and began\ +hugging and kissing him. Another and yet another creature of the same\ +kind sprang from a second door and a third; more hugging, more kissing,\ +more outcries, and tears of joy. He could not distinguish which was\ +Papa, which Natasha, and which Petya. Everyone shouted, talked, and\ +kissed him at the same time. Only his mother was not there, he noticed\ +that.\ +\ +"And I did not know... Nicholas... My darling!..."\ +\ +"Here he is... our own... Kolya, * dear fellow... How he has changed!...\ +Where are the candles?... Tea!..."\ +\ +\ +* Nicholas.\ +\ +"And me, kiss me!"\ +\ +"Dearest... and me!"\ +\ +Sonya, Natasha, Petya, Anna Mikhaylovna, Vera, and the old count were\ +all hugging him, and the serfs, men and maids, flocked into the room,\ +exclaiming and oh-ing and ah-ing.\ +\ +Petya, clinging to his legs, kept shouting, "And me too!"\ +\ +Natasha, after she had pulled him down toward her and covered his face\ +with kisses, holding him tight by the skirt of his coat, sprang away and\ +pranced up and down in one place like a goat and shrieked piercingly.\ +\ +All around were loving eyes glistening with tears of joy, and all around\ +were lips seeking a kiss.\ +\ +Sonya too, all rosy red, clung to his arm and, radiant with bliss,\ +looked eagerly toward his eyes, waiting for the look for which she\ +longed. Sonya now was sixteen and she was very pretty, especially at\ +this moment of happy, rapturous excitement. She gazed at him, not taking\ +her eyes off him, and smiling and holding her breath. He gave her a\ +grateful look, but was still expectant and looking for someone. The old\ +countess had not yet come. But now steps were heard at the door, steps\ +so rapid that they could hardly be his mother's.\ +\ +Yet it was she, dressed in a new gown which he did not know, made since\ +he had left. All the others let him go, and he ran to her. When they\ +met, she fell on his breast, sobbing. She could not lift her face, but\ +only pressed it to the cold braiding of his hussar's jacket. Denisov,\ +who had come into the room unnoticed by anyone, stood there and wiped\ +his eyes at the sight.\ +\ +"Vasili Denisov, your son's friend," he said, introducing himself to the\ +count, who was looking inquiringly at him.\ +\ +"You are most welcome! I know, I know," said the count, kissing and\ +embracing Denisov. "Nicholas wrote us... Natasha, Vera, look! Here is\ +Denisov!"\ +\ +The same happy, rapturous faces turned to the shaggy figure of Denisov.\ +\ +"Darling Denisov!" screamed Natasha, beside herself with rapture,\ +springing to him, putting her arms round him, and kissing him. This\ +escapade made everybody feel confused. Denisov blushed too, but smiled\ +and, taking Natasha's hand, kissed it.\ +\ +Denisov was shown to the room prepared for him, and the Rostovs all\ +gathered round Nicholas in the sitting room.\ +\ +The old countess, not letting go of his hand and kissing it every\ +moment, sat beside him: the rest, crowding round him, watched every\ +movement, word, or look of his, never taking their blissfully adoring\ +eyes off him. His brother and sisters struggled for the places nearest\ +to him and disputed with one another who should bring him his tea,\ +handkerchief, and pipe.\ +\ +Rostov was very happy in the love they showed him; but the first moment\ +of meeting had been so beatific that his present joy seemed\ +insufficient, and he kept expecting something more, more and yet more.\ +\ +Next morning, after the fatigues of their journey, the travelers slept\ +till ten o'clock.\ +\ +In the room next their bedroom there was a confusion of sabers,\ +satchels, sabretaches, open portmanteaus, and dirty boots. Two freshly\ +cleaned pairs with spurs had just been placed by the wall. The servants\ +were bringing in jugs and basins, hot water for shaving, and their well-\ +brushed clothes. There was a masculine odor and a smell of tobacco.\ +\ +"Hallo, Gwiska--my pipe!" came Vasili Denisov's husky voice. "Wostov,\ +get up!"\ +\ +Rostov, rubbing his eyes that seemed glued together, raised his\ +disheveled head from the hot pillow.\ +\ +"Why, is it late?"\ +\ +"Late! It's nearly ten o'clock," answered Natasha's voice. A rustle of\ +starched petticoats and the whispering and laughter of girls' voices\ +came from the adjoining room. The door was opened a crack and there was\ +a glimpse of something blue, of ribbons, black hair, and merry faces. It\ +was Natasha, Sonya, and Petya, who had come to see whether they were\ +getting up.\ +\ +"Nicholas! Get up!" Natasha's voice was again heard at the door.\ +\ +"Directly!"\ +\ +Meanwhile, Petya, having found and seized the sabers in the outer room,\ +with the delight boys feel at the sight of a military elder brother, and\ +forgetting that it was unbecoming for the girls to see men undressed,\ +opened the bedroom door.\ +\ +"Is this your saber?" he shouted.\ +\ +The girls sprang aside. Denisov hid his hairy legs under the blanket,\ +looking with a scared face at his comrade for help. The door, having let\ +Petya in, closed again. A sound of laughter came from behind it.\ +\ +"Nicholas! Come out in your dressing gown!" said Natasha's voice.\ +\ +"Is this your saber?" asked Petya. "Or is it yours?" he said, addressing\ +the black-mustached Denisov with servile deference.\ +\ +Rostov hurriedly put something on his feet, drew on his dressing gown,\ +and went out. Natasha had put on one spurred boot and was just getting\ +her foot into the other. Sonya, when he came in, was twirling round and\ +was about to expand her dresses into a balloon and sit down. They were\ +dressed alike, in new pale-blue frocks, and were both fresh, rosy, and\ +bright. Sonya ran away, but Natasha, taking her brother's arm, led him\ +into the sitting room, where they began talking. They hardly gave one\ +another time to ask questions and give replies concerning a thousand\ +little matters which could not interest anyone but themselves. Natasha\ +laughed at every word he said or that she said herself, not because what\ +they were saying was amusing, but because she felt happy and was unable\ +to control her joy which expressed itself by laughter.\ +\ +"Oh, how nice, how splendid!" she said to everything.\ +\ +Rostov felt that, under the influence of the warm rays of love, that\ +childlike smile which had not once appeared on his face since he left\ +home now for the first time after eighteen months again brightened his\ +soul and his face.\ +\ +"No, but listen," she said, "now you are quite a man, aren't you? I'm\ +awfully glad you're my brother." She touched his mustache. "I want to\ +know what you men are like. Are you the same as we? No?"\ +\ +"Why did Sonya run away?" asked Rostov.\ +\ +"Ah, yes! That's a whole long story! How are you going to speak to her--\ +thou or you?"\ +\ +"As may happen," said Rostov.\ +\ +"No, call her you, please! I'll tell you all about it some other time.\ +No, I'll tell you now. You know Sonya's my dearest friend. Such a friend\ +that I burned my arm for her sake. Look here!"\ +\ +She pulled up her muslin sleeve and showed him a red scar on her long,\ +slender, delicate arm, high above the elbow on that part that is covered\ +even by a ball dress.\ +\ +"I burned this to prove my love for her. I just heated a ruler in the\ +fire and pressed it there!"\ +\ +Sitting on the sofa with the little cushions on its arms, in what used\ +to be his old schoolroom, and looking into Natasha's wildly bright eyes,\ +Rostov re-entered that world of home and childhood which had no meaning\ +for anyone else, but gave him some of the best joys of his life; and the\ +burning of an arm with a ruler as a proof of love did not seem to him\ +senseless, he understood and was not surprised at it.\ +\ +"Well, and is that all?" he asked.\ +\ +"We are such friends, such friends! All that ruler business was just\ +nonsense, but we are friends forever. She, if she loves anyone, does it\ +for life, but I don't understand that, I forget quickly."\ +\ +"Well, what then?"\ +\ +"Well, she loves me and you like that."\ +\ +Natasha suddenly flushed.\ +\ +"Why, you remember before you went away?... Well, she says you are to\ +forget all that.... She says: 'I shall love him always, but let him be\ +free.' Isn't that lovely and noble! Yes, very noble? Isn't it?" asked\ +Natasha, so seriously and excitedly that it was evident that what she\ +was now saying she had talked of before, with tears.\ +\ +Rostov became thoughtful.\ +\ +"I never go back on my word," he said. "Besides, Sonya is so charming\ +that only a fool would renounce such happiness."\ +\ +"No, no!" cried Natasha, "she and I have already talked it over. We knew\ +you'd say so. But it won't do, because you see, if you say that--if you\ +consider yourself bound by your promise--it will seem as if she had not\ +meant it seriously. It makes it as if you were marrying her because you\ +must, and that wouldn't do at all."\ +\ +Rostov saw that it had been well considered by them. Sonya had already\ +struck him by her beauty on the preceding day. Today, when he had caught\ +a glimpse of her, she seemed still more lovely. She was a charming girl\ +of sixteen, evidently passionately in love with him (he did not doubt\ +that for an instant). Why should he not love her now, and even marry\ +her, Rostov thought, but just now there were so many other pleasures and\ +interests before him! "Yes, they have taken a wise decision," he\ +thought, "I must remain free."\ +\ +"Well then, that's excellent," said he. "We'll talk it over later on.\ +Oh, how glad I am to have you!"\ +\ +"Well, and are you still true to Boris?" he continued.\ +\ +"Oh, what nonsense!" cried Natasha, laughing. "I don't think about him\ +or anyone else, and I don't want anything of the kind."\ +\ +"Dear me! Then what are you up to now?"\ +\ +"Now?" repeated Natasha, and a happy smile lit up her face. "Have you\ +seen Duport?"\ +\ +"No."\ +\ +"Not seen Duport--the famous dancer? Well then, you won't understand.\ +That's what I'm up to."\ +\ +Curving her arms, Natasha held out her skirts as dancers do, ran back a\ +few steps, turned, cut a caper, brought her little feet sharply\ +together, and made some steps on the very tips of her toes.\ +\ +"See, I'm standing! See!" she said, but could not maintain herself on\ +her toes any longer. "So that's what I'm up to! I'll never marry anyone,\ +but will be a dancer. Only don't tell anyone."\ +\ +Rostov laughed so loud and merrily that Denisov, in his bedroom, felt\ +envious and Natasha could not help joining in.\ +\ +"No, but don't you think it's nice?" she kept repeating.\ +\ +"Nice! And so you no longer wish to marry Boris?"\ +\ +Natasha flared up. "I don't want to marry anyone. And I'll tell him so\ +when I see him!"\ +\ +"Dear me!" said Rostov.\ +\ +"But that's all rubbish," Natasha chattered on. "And is Denisov nice?"\ +she asked.\ +\ +"Yes, indeed!"\ +\ +"Oh, well then, good-by: go and dress. Is he very terrible, Denisov?"\ +\ +"Why terrible?" asked Nicholas. "No, Vaska is a splendid fellow."\ +\ +"You call him Vaska? That's funny! And is he very nice?"\ +\ +"Very."\ +\ +"Well then, be quick. We'll all have breakfast together."\ +\ +And Natasha rose and went out of the room on tiptoe, like a ballet\ +dancer, but smiling as only happy girls of fifteen can smile. When\ +Rostov met Sonya in the drawing room, he reddened. He did not know how\ +to behave with her. The evening before, in the first happy moment of\ +meeting, they had kissed each other, but today they felt it could not be\ +done; he felt that everybody, including his mother and sisters, was\ +looking inquiringly at him and watching to see how he would behave with\ +her. He kissed her hand and addressed her not as thou but as you--Sonya.\ +But their eyes met and said thou, and exchanged tender kisses. Her looks\ +asked him to forgive her for having dared, by Natasha's intermediacy, to\ +remind him of his promise, and then thanked him for his love. His looks\ +thanked her for offering him his freedom and told her that one way or\ +another he would never cease to love her, for that would be impossible.\ +\ +"How strange it is," said Vera, selecting a moment when all were silent,\ +"that Sonya and Nicholas now say you to one another and meet like\ +strangers."\ +\ +Vera's remark was correct, as her remarks always were, but, like most of\ +her observations, it made everyone feel uncomfortable, not only Sonya,\ +Nicholas, and Natasha, but even the old countess, who--dreading this\ +love affair which might hinder Nicholas from making a brilliant match--\ +blushed like a girl.\ +\ +Denisov, to Rostov's surprise, appeared in the drawing room with pomaded\ +hair, perfumed, and in a new uniform, looking just as smart as he made\ +himself when going into battle, and he was more amiable to the ladies\ +and gentlemen than Rostov had ever expected to see him.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER II\ +\ +On his return to Moscow from the army, Nicholas Rostov was welcomed by\ +his home circle as the best of sons, a hero, and their darling\ +Nikolenka; by his relations as a charming, attractive, and polite young\ +man; by his acquaintances as a handsome lieutenant of hussars, a good\ +dancer, and one of the best matches in the city.\ +\ +The Rostovs knew everybody in Moscow. The old count had money enough\ +that year, as all his estates had been remortgaged, and so Nicholas,\ +acquiring a trotter of his own, very stylish riding breeches of the\ +latest cut, such as no one else yet had in Moscow, and boots of the\ +latest fashion, with extremely pointed toes and small silver spurs,\ +passed his time very gaily. After a short period of adapting himself to\ +the old conditions of life, Nicholas found it very pleasant to be at\ +home again. He felt that he had grown up and matured very much. His\ +despair at failing in a Scripture examination, his borrowing money from\ +Gavril to pay a sleigh driver, his kissing Sonya on the sly--he now\ +recalled all this as childishness he had left immeasurably behind. Now\ +he was a lieutenant of hussars, in a jacket laced with silver, and\ +wearing the Cross of St. George, awarded to soldiers for bravery in\ +action, and in the company of well-known, elderly, and respected racing\ +men was training a trotter of his own for a race. He knew a lady on one\ +of the boulevards whom he visited of an evening. He led the mazurka at\ +the Arkharovs' ball, talked about the war with Field Marshal Kamenski,\ +visited the English Club, and was on intimate terms with a colonel of\ +forty to whom Denisov had introduced him.\ +\ +His passion for the Emperor had cooled somewhat in Moscow. But still, as\ +he did not see him and had no opportunity of seeing him, he often spoke\ +about him and about his love for him, letting it be understood that he\ +had not told all and that there was something in his feelings for the\ +Emperor not everyone could understand, and with his whole soul he shared\ +the adoration then common in Moscow for the Emperor, who was spoken of\ +as the "angel incarnate."\ +\ +During Rostov's short stay in Moscow, before rejoining the army, he did\ +not draw closer to Sonya, but rather drifted away from her. She was very\ +pretty and sweet, and evidently deeply in love with him, but he was at\ +the period of youth when there seems so much to do that there is no time\ +for that sort of thing and a young man fears to bind himself and prizes\ +his freedom which he needs for so many other things. When he thought of\ +Sonya, during this stay in Moscow, he said to himself, "Ah, there will\ +be, and there are, many more such girls somewhere whom I do not yet\ +know. There will be time enough to think about love when I want to, but\ +now I have no time." Besides, it seemed to him that the society of women\ +was rather derogatory to his manhood. He went to balls and into ladies'\ +society with an affectation of doing so against his will. The races, the\ +English Club, sprees with Denisov, and visits to a certain house--that\ +was another matter and quite the thing for a dashing young hussar!\ +\ +At the beginning of March, old Count Ilya Rostov was very busy arranging\ +a dinner in honor of Prince Bagration at the English Club.\ +\ +The count walked up and down the hall in his dressing gown, giving\ +orders to the club steward and to the famous Feoktist, the club's head\ +cook, about asparagus, fresh cucumbers, strawberries, veal, and fish for\ +this dinner. The count had been a member and on the committee of the\ +club from the day it was founded. To him the club entrusted the\ +arrangement of the festival in honor of Bagration, for few men knew so\ +well how to arrange a feast on an open-handed, hospitable scale, and\ +still fewer men would be so well able and willing to make up out of\ +their own resources what might be needed for the success of the fete.\ +The club cook and the steward listened to the count's orders with\ +pleased faces, for they knew that under no other management could they\ +so easily extract a good profit for themselves from a dinner costing\ +several thousand rubles.\ +\ +"Well then, mind and have cocks' comb in the turtle soup, you know!"\ +\ +"Shall we have three cold dishes then?" asked the cook.\ +\ +The count considered.\ +\ +"We can't have less--yes, three... the mayonnaise, that's one," said he,\ +bending down a finger.\ +\ +"Then am I to order those large sterlets?" asked the steward.\ +\ +"Yes, it can't be helped if they won't take less. Ah, dear me! I was\ +forgetting. We must have another entree. Ah, goodness gracious!" he\ +clutched at his head. "Who is going to get me the flowers? Dmitri! Eh,\ +Dmitri! Gallop off to our Moscow estate," he said to the factotum who\ +appeared at his call. "Hurry off and tell Maksim, the gardener, to set\ +the serfs to work. Say that everything out of the hothouses must be\ +brought here well wrapped up in felt. I must have two hundred pots here\ +on Friday."\ +\ +Having given several more orders, he was about to go to his "little\ +countess" to have a rest, but remembering something else of importance,\ +he returned again, called back the cook and the club steward, and again\ +began giving orders. A light footstep and the clinking of spurs were\ +heard at the door, and the young count, handsome, rosy, with a dark\ +little mustache, evidently rested and made sleeker by his easy life in\ +Moscow, entered the room.\ +\ +"Ah, my boy, my head's in a whirl!" said the old man with a smile, as if\ +he felt a little confused before his son. "Now, if you would only help a\ +bit! I must have singers too. I shall have my own orchestra, but\ +shouldn't we get the gypsy singers as well? You military men like that\ +sort of thing."\ +\ +"Really, Papa, I believe Prince Bagration worried himself less before\ +the battle of Schon Grabern than you do now," said his son with a smile.\ +\ +The old count pretended to be angry.\ +\ +"Yes, you talk, but try it yourself!"\ +\ +And the count turned to the cook, who, with a shrewd and respectful\ +expression, looked observantly and sympathetically at the father and\ +son.\ +\ +"What have the young people come to nowadays, eh, Feoktist?" said he.\ +"Laughing at us old fellows!"\ +\ +"That's so, your excellency, all they have to do is to eat a good\ +dinner, but providing it and serving it all up, that's not their\ +business!"\ +\ +"That's it, that's it!" exclaimed the count, and gaily seizing his son\ +by both hands, he cried, "Now I've got you, so take the sleigh and pair\ +at once, and go to Bezukhov's, and tell him 'Count Ilya has sent you to\ +ask for strawberries and fresh pineapples.' We can't get them from\ +anyone else. He's not there himself, so you'll have to go in and ask the\ +princesses; and from there go on to the Rasgulyay--the coachman Ipatka\ +knows--and look up the gypsy Ilyushka, the one who danced at Count\ +Orlov's, you remember, in a white Cossack coat, and bring him along to\ +me."\ +\ +"And am I to bring the gypsy girls along with him?" asked Nicholas,\ +laughing. "Dear, dear!..."\ +\ +At that moment, with noiseless footsteps and with the businesslike,\ +preoccupied, yet meekly Christian look which never left her face, Anna\ +Mikhaylovna entered the hall. Though she came upon the count in his\ +dressing gown every day, he invariably became confused and begged her to\ +excuse his costume.\ +\ +"No matter at all, my dear count," she said, meekly closing her eyes.\ +"But I'll go to Bezukhov's myself. Pierre has arrived, and now we shall\ +get anything we want from his hothouses. I have to see him in any case.\ +He has forwarded me a letter from Boris. Thank God, Boris is now on the\ +staff."\ +\ +The count was delighted at Anna Mikhaylovna's taking upon herself one of\ +his commissions and ordered the small closed carriage for her.\ +\ +"Tell Bezukhov to come. I'll put his name down. Is his wife with him?"\ +he asked.\ +\ +Anna Mikhaylovna turned up her eyes, and profound sadness was depicted\ +on her face.\ +\ +"Ah, my dear friend, he is very unfortunate," she said. "If what we hear\ +is true, it is dreadful. How little we dreamed of such a thing when we\ +were rejoicing at his happiness! And such a lofty angelic soul as young\ +Bezukhov! Yes, I pity him from my heart, and shall try to give him what\ +consolation I can."\ +\ +"Wh-what is the matter?" asked both the young and old Rostov.\ +\ +Anna Mikhaylovna sighed deeply.\ +\ +"Dolokhov, Mary Ivanovna's son," she said in a mysterious whisper, "has\ +compromised her completely, they say. Pierre took him up, invited him to\ +his house in Petersburg, and now... she has come here and that daredevil\ +after her!" said Anna Mikhaylovna, wishing to show her sympathy for\ +Pierre, but by involuntary intonations and a half smile betraying her\ +sympathy for the "daredevil," as she called Dolokhov. "They say Pierre\ +is quite broken by his misfortune."\ +\ +"Dear, dear! But still tell him to come to the club--it will all blow\ +over. It will be a tremendous banquet."\ +\ +Next day, the third of March, soon after one o'clock, two hundred and\ +fifty members of the English Club and fifty guests were awaiting the\ +guest of honor and hero of the Austrian campaign, Prince Bagration, to\ +dinner.\ +\ +On the first arrival of the news of the battle of Austerlitz, Moscow had\ +been bewildered. At that time, the Russians were so used to victories\ +that on receiving news of the defeat some would simply not believe it,\ +while others sought some extraordinary explanation of so strange an\ +event. In the English Club, where all who were distinguished, important,\ +and well informed foregathered when the news began to arrive in\ +December, nothing was said about the war and the last battle, as though\ +all were in a conspiracy of silence. The men who set the tone in\ +conversation--Count Rostopchin, Prince Yuri Dolgorukov, Valuev, Count\ +Markov, and Prince Vyazemski--did not show themselves at the club, but\ +met in private houses in intimate circles, and the Moscovites who took\ +their opinions from others--Ilya Rostov among them--remained for a while\ +without any definite opinion on the subject of the war and without\ +leaders. The Moscovites felt that something was wrong and that to\ +discuss the bad news was difficult, and so it was best to be silent. But\ +after a while, just as a jury comes out of its room, the bigwigs who\ +guided the club's opinion reappeared, and everybody began speaking\ +clearly and definitely. Reasons were found for the incredible, unheard-\ +of, and impossible event of a Russian defeat, everything became clear,\ +and in all corners of Moscow the same things began to be said. These\ +reasons were the treachery of the Austrians, a defective commissariat,\ +the treachery of the Pole Przebyszewski and of the Frenchman Langeron,\ +Kutuzov's incapacity, and (it was whispered) the youth and inexperience\ +of the sovereign, who had trusted worthless and insignificant people.\ +But the army, the Russian army, everyone declared, was extraordinary and\ +had achieved miracles of valor. The soldiers, officers, and generals\ +were heroes. But the hero of heroes was Prince Bagration, distinguished\ +by his Schon Grabern affair and by the retreat from Austerlitz, where he\ +alone had withdrawn his column unbroken and had all day beaten back an\ +enemy force twice as numerous as his own. What also conduced to\ +Bagration's being selected as Moscow's hero was the fact that he had no\ +connections in the city and was a stranger there. In his person, honor\ +was shown to a simple fighting Russian soldier without connections and\ +intrigues, and to one who was associated by memories of the Italian\ +campaign with the name of Suvorov. Moreover, paying such honor to\ +Bagration was the best way of expressing disapproval and dislike of\ +Kutuzov.\ +\ +"Had there been no Bagration, it would have been necessary to invent\ +him," said the wit Shinshin, parodying the words of Voltaire. Kutuzov no\ +one spoke of, except some who abused him in whispers, calling him a\ +court weathercock and an old satyr.\ +\ +All Moscow repeated Prince Dolgorukov's saying: "If you go on modeling\ +and modeling you must get smeared with clay," suggesting consolation for\ +our defeat by the memory of former victories; and the words of\ +Rostopchin, that French soldiers have to be incited to battle by\ +highfalutin words, and Germans by logical arguments to show them that it\ +is more dangerous to run away than to advance, but that Russian soldiers\ +only need to be restrained and held back! On all sides, new and fresh\ +anecdotes were heard of individual examples of heroism shown by our\ +officers and men at Austerlitz. One had saved a standard, another had\ +killed five Frenchmen, a third had loaded five cannon singlehanded. Berg\ +was mentioned, by those who did not know him, as having, when wounded in\ +the right hand, taken his sword in the left, and gone forward. Of\ +Bolkonski, nothing was said, and only those who knew him intimately\ +regretted that he had died so young, leaving a pregnant wife with his\ +eccentric father.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER III\ +\ +On that third of March, all the rooms in the English Club were filled\ +with a hum of conversation, like the hum of bees swarming in springtime.\ +The members and guests of the club wandered hither and thither, sat,\ +stood, met, and separated, some in uniform and some in evening dress,\ +and a few here and there with powdered hair and in Russian kaftans.\ +Powdered footmen, in livery with buckled shoes and smart stockings,\ +stood at every door anxiously noting visitors' every movement in order\ +to offer their services. Most of those present were elderly, respected\ +men with broad, self-confident faces, fat fingers, and resolute gestures\ +and voices. This class of guests and members sat in certain habitual\ +places and met in certain habitual groups. A minority of those present\ +were casual guests--chiefly young men, among whom were Denisov, Rostov,\ +and Dolokhov--who was now again an officer in the Semenov regiment. The\ +faces of these young people, especially those who were military men,\ +bore that expression of condescending respect for their elders which\ +seems to say to the older generation, "We are prepared to respect and\ +honor you, but all the same remember that the future belongs to us."\ +\ +Nesvitski was there as an old member of the club. Pierre, who at his\ +wife's command had let his hair grow and abandoned his spectacles, went\ +about the rooms fashionably dressed but looking sad and dull. Here, as\ +elsewhere, he was surrounded by an atmosphere of subservience to his\ +wealth, and being in the habit of lording it over these people, he\ +treated them with absent-minded contempt.\ +\ +By his age he should have belonged to the younger men, but by his wealth\ +and connections he belonged to the groups of old and honored guests, and\ +so he went from one group to another. Some of the most important old men\ +were the center of groups which even strangers approached respectfully\ +to hear the voices of well-known men. The largest circles formed round\ +Count Rostopchin, Valuev, and Naryshkin. Rostopchin was describing how\ +the Russians had been overwhelmed by flying Austrians and had had to\ +force their way through them with bayonets.\ +\ +Valuev was confidentially telling that Uvarov had been sent from\ +Petersburg to ascertain what Moscow was thinking about Austerlitz.\ +\ +In the third circle, Naryshkin was speaking of the meeting of the\ +Austrian Council of War at which Suvorov crowed like a cock in reply to\ +the nonsense talked by the Austrian generals. Shinshin, standing close\ +by, tried to make a joke, saying that Kutuzov had evidently failed to\ +learn from Suvorov even so simple a thing as the art of crowing like a\ +cock, but the elder members glanced severely at the wit, making him feel\ +that in that place and on that day, it was improper to speak so of\ +Kutuzov.\ +\ +Count Ilya Rostov, hurried and preoccupied, went about in his soft boots\ +between the dining and drawing rooms, hastily greeting the important and\ +unimportant, all of whom he knew, as if they were all equals, while his\ +eyes occasionally sought out his fine well-set-up young son, resting on\ +him and winking joyfully at him. Young Rostov stood at a window with\ +Dolokhov, whose acquaintance he had lately made and highly valued. The\ +old count came up to them and pressed Dolokhov's hand.\ +\ +"Please come and visit us... you know my brave boy... been together out\ +there... both playing the hero... Ah, Vasili Ignatovich... How d'ye do,\ +old fellow?" he said, turning to an old man who was passing, but before\ +he had finished his greeting there was a general stir, and a footman who\ +had run in announced, with a frightened face: "He's arrived!"\ +\ +Bells rang, the stewards rushed forward, and--like rye shaken together\ +in a shovel--the guests who had been scattered about in different rooms\ +came together and crowded in the large drawing room by the door of the\ +ballroom.\ +\ +Bagration appeared in the doorway of the anteroom without hat or sword,\ +which, in accord with the club custom, he had given up to the hall\ +porter. He had no lambskin cap on his head, nor had he a loaded whip\ +over his shoulder, as when Rostov had seen him on the eve of the battle\ +of Austerlitz, but wore a tight new uniform with Russian and foreign\ +Orders, and the Star of St. George on his left breast. Evidently just\ +before coming to the dinner he had had his hair and whiskers trimmed,\ +which changed his appearance for the worse. There was something naively\ +festive in his air, which, in conjunction with his firm and virile\ +features, gave him a rather comical expression. Bekleshev and Theodore\ +Uvarov, who had arrived with him, paused at the doorway to allow him, as\ +the guest of honor, to enter first. Bagration was embarrassed, not\ +wishing to avail himself of their courtesy, and this caused some delay\ +at the doors, but after all he did at last enter first. He walked shyly\ +and awkwardly over the parquet floor of the reception room, not knowing\ +what to do with his hands; he was more accustomed to walk over a plowed\ +field under fire, as he had done at the head of the Kursk regiment at\ +Schon Grabern--and he would have found that easier. The committeemen met\ +him at the first door and, expressing their delight at seeing such a\ +highly honored guest, took possession of him as it were, without waiting\ +for his reply, surrounded him, and led him to the drawing room. It was\ +at first impossible to enter the drawing-room door for the crowd of\ +members and guests jostling one another and trying to get a good look at\ +Bagration over each other's shoulders, as if he were some rare animal.\ +Count Ilya Rostov, laughing and repeating the words, "Make way, dear\ +boy! Make way, make way!" pushed through the crowd more energetically\ +than anyone, led the guests into the drawing room, and seated them on\ +the center sofa. The bigwigs, the most respected members of the club,\ +beset the new arrivals. Count Ilya, again thrusting his way through the\ +crowd, went out of the drawing room and reappeared a minute later with\ +another committeeman, carrying a large silver salver which he presented\ +to Prince Bagration. On the salver lay some verses composed and printed\ +in the hero's honor. Bagration, on seeing the salver, glanced around in\ +dismay, as though seeking help. But all eyes demanded that he should\ +submit. Feeling himself in their power, he resolutely took the salver\ +with both hands and looked sternly and reproachfully at the count who\ +had presented it to him. Someone obligingly took the dish from Bagration\ +(or he would, it seemed, have held it till evening and have gone in to\ +dinner with it) and drew his attention to the verses.\ +\ +"Well, I will read them, then!" Bagration seemed to say, and, fixing his\ +weary eyes on the paper, began to read them with a fixed and serious\ +expression. But the author himself took the verses and began reading\ +them aloud. Bagration bowed his head and listened:\ +\ +\ +Bring glory then to Alexander's reign And on the throne our Titus\ +shield. A dreaded foe be thou, kindhearted as a man, A Rhipheus at home,\ +a Caesar in the field! E'en fortunate Napoleon Knows by experience, now,\ +Bagration, And dare not Herculean Russians trouble...\ +\ +But before he had finished reading, a stentorian major-domo announced\ +that dinner was ready! The door opened, and from the dining room came\ +the resounding strains of the polonaise:\ +\ +\ +Conquest's joyful thunder waken, Triumph, valiant Russians, now!...\ +\ +and Count Rostov, glancing angrily at the author who went on reading his\ +verses, bowed to Bagration. Everyone rose, feeling that dinner was more\ +important than verses, and Bagration, again preceding all the rest, went\ +in to dinner. He was seated in the place of honor between two\ +Alexanders--Bekleshev and Naryshkin--which was a significant allusion to\ +the name of the sovereign. Three hundred persons took their seats in the\ +dining room, according to their rank and importance: the more important\ +nearer to the honored guest, as naturally as water flows deepest where\ +the land lies lowest.\ +\ +Just before dinner, Count Ilya Rostov presented his son to Bagration,\ +who recognized him and said a few words to him, disjointed and awkward,\ +as were all the words he spoke that day, and Count Ilya looked joyfully\ +and proudly around while Bagration spoke to his son.\ +\ +Nicholas Rostov, with Denisov and his new acquaintance, Dolokhov, sat\ +almost at the middle of the table. Facing them sat Pierre, beside Prince\ +Nesvitski. Count Ilya Rostov with the other members of the committee sat\ +facing Bagration and, as the very personification of Moscow hospitality,\ +did the honors to the prince.\ +\ +His efforts had not been in vain. The dinner, both the Lenten and the\ +other fare, was splendid, yet he could not feel quite at ease till the\ +end of the meal. He winked at the butler, whispered directions to the\ +footmen, and awaited each expected dish with some anxiety. Everything\ +was excellent. With the second course, a gigantic sterlet (at sight of\ +which Ilya Rostov blushed with self-conscious pleasure), the footmen\ +began popping corks and filling the champagne glasses. After the fish,\ +which made a certain sensation, the count exchanged glances with the\ +other committeemen. "There will be many toasts, it's time to begin," he\ +whispered, and taking up his glass, he rose. All were silent, waiting\ +for what he would say.\ +\ +"To the health of our Sovereign, the Emperor!" he cried, and at the same\ +moment his kindly eyes grew moist with tears of joy and enthusiasm. The\ +band immediately struck up "Conquest's joyful thunder waken..." All rose\ +and cried "Hurrah!" Bagration also rose and shouted "Hurrah!" in exactly\ +the same voice in which he had shouted it on the field at Schon Grabern.\ +Young Rostov's ecstatic voice could be heard above the three hundred\ +others. He nearly wept. "To the health of our Sovereign, the Emperor!"\ +he roared, "Hurrah!" and emptying his glass at one gulp he dashed it to\ +the floor. Many followed his example, and the loud shouting continued\ +for a long time. When the voices subsided, the footmen cleared away the\ +broken glass and everybody sat down again, smiling at the noise they had\ +made and exchanging remarks. The old count rose once more, glanced at a\ +note lying beside his plate, and proposed a toast, "To the health of the\ +hero of our last campaign, Prince Peter Ivanovich Bagration!" and again\ +his blue eyes grew moist. "Hurrah!" cried the three hundred voices\ +again, but instead of the band a choir began singing a cantata composed\ +by Paul Ivanovich Kutuzov:\ +\ +\ +Russians! O'er all barriers on! Courage conquest guarantees; Have we not\ +Bagration? He brings foe men to their knees,... etc.\ +\ +As soon as the singing was over, another and another toast was proposed\ +and Count Ilya Rostov became more and more moved, more glass was\ +smashed, and the shouting grew louder. They drank to Bekleshev,\ +Naryshkin, Uvarov, Dolgorukov, Apraksin, Valuev, to the committee, to\ +all the club members and to all the club guests, and finally to Count\ +Ilya Rostov separately, as the organizer of the banquet. At that toast,\ +the count took out his handkerchief and, covering his face, wept\ +outright.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER IV\ +\ +Pierre sat opposite Dolokhov and Nicholas Rostov. As usual, he ate and\ +drank much, and eagerly. But those who knew him intimately noticed that\ +some great change had come over him that day. He was silent all through\ +dinner and looked about, blinking and scowling, or, with fixed eyes and\ +a look of complete absent-mindedness, kept rubbing the bridge of his\ +nose. His face was depressed and gloomy. He seemed to see and hear\ +nothing of what was going on around him and to be absorbed by some\ +depressing and unsolved problem.\ +\ +The unsolved problem that tormented him was caused by hints given by the\ +princess, his cousin, at Moscow, concerning Dolokhov's intimacy with his\ +wife, and by an anonymous letter he had received that morning, which in\ +the mean jocular way common to anonymous letters said that he saw badly\ +through his spectacles, but that his wife's connection with Dolokhov was\ +a secret to no one but himself. Pierre absolutely disbelieved both the\ +princess' hints and the letter, but he feared now to look at Dolokhov,\ +who was sitting opposite him. Every time he chanced to meet Dolokhov's\ +handsome insolent eyes, Pierre felt something terrible and monstrous\ +rising in his soul and turned quickly away. Involuntarily recalling his\ +wife's past and her relations with Dolokhov, Pierre saw clearly that\ +what was said in the letter might be true, or might at least seem to be\ +true had it not referred to his wife. He involuntarily remembered how\ +Dolokhov, who had fully recovered his former position after the\ +campaign, had returned to Petersburg and come to him. Availing himself\ +of his friendly relations with Pierre as a boon companion, Dolokhov had\ +come straight to his house, and Pierre had put him up and lent him\ +money. Pierre recalled how Helene had smilingly expressed disapproval of\ +Dolokhov's living at their house, and how cynically Dolokhov had praised\ +his wife's beauty to him and from that time till they came to Moscow had\ +not left them for a day.\ +\ +"Yes, he is very handsome," thought Pierre, "and I know him. It would be\ +particularly pleasant to him to dishonor my name and ridicule me, just\ +because I have exerted myself on his behalf, befriended him, and helped\ +him. I know and understand what a spice that would add to the pleasure\ +of deceiving me, if it really were true. Yes, if it were true, but I do\ +not believe it. I have no right to, and can't, believe it." He\ +remembered the expression Dolokhov's face assumed in his moments of\ +cruelty, as when tying the policeman to the bear and dropping them into\ +the water, or when he challenged a man to a duel without any reason, or\ +shot a post-boy's horse with a pistol. That expression was often on\ +Dolokhov's face when looking at him. "Yes, he is a bully," thought\ +Pierre, "to kill a man means nothing to him. It must seem to him that\ +everyone is afraid of him, and that must please him. He must think that\ +I, too, am afraid of him--and in fact I am afraid of him," he thought,\ +and again he felt something terrible and monstrous rising in his soul.\ +Dolokhov, Denisov, and Rostov were now sitting opposite Pierre and\ +seemed very gay. Rostov was talking merrily to his two friends, one of\ +whom was a dashing hussar and the other a notorious duelist and rake,\ +and every now and then he glanced ironically at Pierre, whose\ +preoccupied, absent-minded, and massive figure was a very noticeable one\ +at the dinner. Rostov looked inimically at Pierre, first because Pierre\ +appeared to his hussar eyes as a rich civilian, the husband of a beauty,\ +and in a word--an old woman; and secondly because Pierre in his\ +preoccupation and absent-mindedness had not recognized Rostov and had\ +not responded to his greeting. When the Emperor's health was drunk,\ +Pierre, lost in thought, did not rise or lift his glass.\ +\ +"What are you about?" shouted Rostov, looking at him in an ecstasy of\ +exasperation. "Don't you hear it's His Majesty the Emperor's health?"\ +\ +Pierre sighed, rose submissively, emptied his glass, and, waiting till\ +all were seated again, turned with his kindly smile to Rostov.\ +\ +"Why, I didn't recognize you!" he said. But Rostov was otherwise\ +engaged; he was shouting "Hurrah!"\ +\ +"Why don't you renew the acquaintance?" said Dolokhov to Rostov.\ +\ +"Confound him, he's a fool!" said Rostov.\ +\ +"One should make up to the husbands of pretty women," said Denisov.\ +\ +Pierre did not catch what they were saying, but knew they were talking\ +about him. He reddened and turned away.\ +\ +"Well, now to the health of handsome women!" said Dolokhov, and with a\ +serious expression, but with a smile lurking at the corners of his\ +mouth, he turned with his glass to Pierre.\ +\ +"Here's to the health of lovely women, Peterkin--and their lovers!" he\ +added.\ +\ +Pierre, with downcast eyes, drank out of his glass without looking at\ +Dolokhov or answering him. The footman, who was distributing leaflets\ +with Kutuzov's cantata, laid one before Pierre as one of the principal\ +guests. He was just going to take it when Dolokhov, leaning across,\ +snatched it from his hand and began reading it. Pierre looked at\ +Dolokhov and his eyes dropped, the something terrible and monstrous that\ +had tormented him all dinnertime rose and took possession of him. He\ +leaned his whole massive body across the table.\ +\ +"How dare you take it?" he shouted.\ +\ +Hearing that cry and seeing to whom it was addressed, Nesvitski and the\ +neighbor on his right quickly turned in alarm to Bezukhov.\ +\ +"Don't! Don't! What are you about?" whispered their frightened voices.\ +\ +Dolokhov looked at Pierre with clear, mirthful, cruel eyes, and that\ +smile of his which seemed to say, "Ah! This is what I like!"\ +\ +"You shan't have it!" he said distinctly.\ +\ +Pale, with quivering lips, Pierre snatched the copy.\ +\ +"You...! you... scoundrel! I challenge you!" he ejaculated, and, pushing\ +back his chair, he rose from the table.\ +\ +At the very instant he did this and uttered those words, Pierre felt\ +that the question of his wife's guilt which had been tormenting him the\ +whole day was finally and indubitably answered in the affirmative. He\ +hated her and was forever sundered from her. Despite Denisov's request\ +that he would take no part in the matter, Rostov agreed to be Dolokhov's\ +second, and after dinner he discussed the arrangements for the duel with\ +Nesvitski, Bezukhov's second. Pierre went home, but Rostov with Dolokhov\ +and Denisov stayed on at the club till late, listening to the gypsies\ +and other singers.\ +\ +"Well then, till tomorrow at Sokolniki," said Dolokhov, as he took leave\ +of Rostov in the club porch.\ +\ +"And do you feel quite calm?" Rostov asked.\ +\ +Dolokhov paused.\ +\ +"Well, you see, I'll tell you the whole secret of dueling in two words.\ +If you are going to fight a duel, and you make a will and write\ +affectionate letters to your parents, and if you think you may be\ +killed, you are a fool and are lost for certain. But go with the firm\ +intention of killing your man as quickly and surely as possible, and\ +then all will be right, as our bear huntsman at Kostroma used to tell\ +me. 'Everyone fears a bear,' he says, 'but when you see one your fear's\ +all gone, and your only thought is not to let him get away!' And that's\ +how it is with me. A demain, mon cher." *\ +\ +\ +* Till tomorrow, my dear fellow.\ +\ +Next day, at eight in the morning, Pierre and Nesvitski drove to the\ +Sokolniki forest and found Dolokhov, Denisov, and Rostov already there.\ +Pierre had the air of a man preoccupied with considerations which had no\ +connection with the matter in hand. His haggard face was yellow. He had\ +evidently not slept that night. He looked about distractedly and screwed\ +up his eyes as if dazzled by the sun. He was entirely absorbed by two\ +considerations: his wife's guilt, of which after his sleepless night he\ +had not the slightest doubt, and the guiltlessness of Dolokhov, who had\ +no reason to preserve the honor of a man who was nothing to him.... "I\ +should perhaps have done the same thing in his place," thought Pierre.\ +"It's even certain that I should have done the same, then why this duel,\ +this murder? Either I shall kill him, or he will hit me in the head, or\ +elbow, or knee. Can't I go away from here, run away, bury myself\ +somewhere?" passed through his mind. But just at moments when such\ +thoughts occurred to him, he would ask in a particularly calm and\ +absent-minded way, which inspired the respect of the onlookers, "Will it\ +be long? Are things ready?"\ +\ +When all was ready, the sabers stuck in the snow to mark the barriers,\ +and the pistols loaded, Nesvitski went up to Pierre.\ +\ +"I should not be doing my duty, Count," he said in timid tones, "and\ +should not justify your confidence and the honor you have done me in\ +choosing me for your second, if at this grave, this very grave, moment I\ +did not tell you the whole truth. I think there is no sufficient ground\ +for this affair, or for blood to be shed over it.... You were not right,\ +not quite in the right, you were impetuous..."\ +\ +"Oh yes, it is horribly stupid," said Pierre.\ +\ +"Then allow me to express your regrets, and I am sure your opponent will\ +accept them," said Nesvitski (who like the others concerned in the\ +affair, and like everyone in similar cases, did not yet believe that the\ +affair had come to an actual duel). "You know, Count, it is much more\ +honorable to admit one's mistake than to let matters become irreparable.\ +There was no insult on either side. Allow me to convey...."\ +\ +"No! What is there to talk about?" said Pierre. "It's all the same....\ +Is everything ready?" he added. "Only tell me where to go and where to\ +shoot," he said with an unnaturally gentle smile.\ +\ +He took the pistol in his hand and began asking about the working of the\ +trigger, as he had not before held a pistol in his hand--a fact that he\ +did not wish to confess.\ +\ +"Oh yes, like that, I know, I only forgot," said he.\ +\ +"No apologies, none whatever," said Dolokhov to Denisov (who on his side\ +had been attempting a reconciliation), and he also went up to the\ +appointed place.\ +\ +The spot chosen for the duel was some eighty paces from the road, where\ +the sleighs had been left, in a small clearing in the pine forest\ +covered with melting snow, the frost having begun to break up during the\ +last few days. The antagonists stood forty paces apart at the farther\ +edge of the clearing. The seconds, measuring the paces, left tracks in\ +the deep wet snow between the place where they had been standing and\ +Nesvitski's and Dolokhov's sabers, which were stuck into the ground ten\ +paces apart to mark the barrier. It was thawing and misty; at forty\ +paces' distance nothing could be seen. For three minutes all had been\ +ready, but they still delayed and all were silent.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER V\ +\ +"Well begin!" said Dolokhov.\ +\ +"All right," said Pierre, still smiling in the same way. A feeling of\ +dread was in the air. It was evident that the affair so lightly begun\ +could no longer be averted but was taking its course independently of\ +men's will.\ +\ +Denisov first went to the barrier and announced: "As the adve'sawies\ +have wefused a weconciliation, please pwoceed. Take your pistols, and at\ +the word thwee begin to advance.\ +\ +"O-ne! T-wo! Thwee!" he shouted angrily and stepped aside.\ +\ +The combatants advanced along the trodden tracks, nearer and nearer to\ +one another, beginning to see one another through the mist. They had the\ +right to fire when they liked as they approached the barrier. Dolokhov\ +walked slowly without raising his pistol, looking intently with his\ +bright, sparkling blue eyes into his antagonist's face. His mouth wore\ +its usual semblance of a smile.\ +\ +"So I can fire when I like!" said Pierre, and at the word "three," he\ +went quickly forward, missing the trodden path and stepping into the\ +deep snow. He held the pistol in his right hand at arm's length,\ +apparently afraid of shooting himself with it. His left hand he held\ +carefully back, because he wished to support his right hand with it and\ +knew he must not do so. Having advanced six paces and strayed off the\ +track into the snow, Pierre looked down at his feet, then quickly\ +glanced at Dolokhov and, bending his finger as he had been shown, fired.\ +Not at all expecting so loud a report, Pierre shuddered at the sound and\ +then, smiling at his own sensations, stood still. The smoke, rendered\ +denser by the mist, prevented him from seeing anything for an instant,\ +but there was no second report as he had expected. He only heard\ +Dolokhov's hurried steps, and his figure came in view through the smoke.\ +He was pressing one hand to his left side, while the other clutched his\ +drooping pistol. His face was pale. Rostov ran toward him and said\ +something.\ +\ +"No-o-o!" muttered Dolokhov through his teeth, "no, it's not over." And\ +after stumbling a few staggering steps right up to the saber, he sank on\ +the snow beside it. His left hand was bloody; he wiped it on his coat\ +and supported himself with it. His frowning face was pallid and\ +quivered.\ +\ +"Plea..." began Dolokhov, but could not at first pronounce the word.\ +\ +"Please," he uttered with an effort.\ +\ +Pierre, hardly restraining his sobs, began running toward Dolokhov and\ +was about to cross the space between the barriers, when Dolokhov cried:\ +\ +"To your barrier!" and Pierre, grasping what was meant, stopped by his\ +saber. Only ten paces divided them. Dolokhov lowered his head to the\ +snow, greedily bit at it, again raised his head, adjusted himself, drew\ +in his legs and sat up, seeking a firm center of gravity. He sucked and\ +swallowed the cold snow, his lips quivered but his eyes, still smiling,\ +glittered with effort and exasperation as he mustered his remaining\ +strength. He raised his pistol and aimed.\ +\ +"Sideways! Cover yourself with your pistol!" ejaculated Nesvitski.\ +\ +"Cover yourself!" even Denisov cried to his adversary.\ +\ +Pierre, with a gentle smile of pity and remorse, his arms and legs\ +helplessly spread out, stood with his broad chest directly facing\ +Dolokhov looked sorrowfully at him. Denisov, Rostov, and Nesvitski\ +closed their eyes. At the same instant they heard a report and\ +Dolokhov's angry cry.\ +\ +"Missed!" shouted Dolokhov, and he lay helplessly, face downwards on the\ +snow.\ +\ +Pierre clutched his temples, and turning round went into the forest,\ +trampling through the deep snow, and muttering incoherent words:\ +\ +"Folly... folly! Death... lies..." he repeated, puckering his face.\ +\ +Nesvitski stopped him and took him home.\ +\ +Rostov and Denisov drove away with the wounded Dolokhov.\ +\ +The latter lay silent in the sleigh with closed eyes and did not answer\ +a word to the questions addressed to him. But on entering Moscow he\ +suddenly came to and, lifting his head with an effort, took Rostov, who\ +was sitting beside him, by the hand. Rostov was struck by the totally\ +altered and unexpectedly rapturous and tender expression on Dolokhov's\ +face.\ +\ +"Well? How do you feel?" he asked.\ +\ +"Bad! But it's not that, my friend-" said Dolokhov with a gasping voice.\ +"Where are we? In Moscow, I know. I don't matter, but I have killed her,\ +killed... She won't get over it! She won't survive...."\ +\ +"Who?" asked Rostov.\ +\ +"My mother! My mother, my angel, my adored angel mother," and Dolokhov\ +pressed Rostov's hand and burst into tears.\ +\ +When he had become a little quieter, he explained to Rostov that he was\ +living with his mother, who, if she saw him dying, would not survive it.\ +He implored Rostov to go on and prepare her.\ +\ +Rostov went on ahead to do what was asked, and to his great surprise\ +learned that Dolokhov the brawler, Dolokhov the bully, lived in Moscow\ +with an old mother and a hunchback sister, and was the most affectionate\ +of sons and brothers.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER VI\ +\ +Pierre had of late rarely seen his wife alone. Both in Petersburg and in\ +Moscow their house was always full of visitors. The night after the duel\ +he did not go to his bedroom but, as he often did, remained in his\ +father's room, that huge room in which Count Bezukhov had died.\ +\ +He lay down on the sofa meaning to fall asleep and forget all that had\ +happened to him, but could not do so. Such a storm of feelings,\ +thoughts, and memories suddenly arose within him that he could not fall\ +asleep, nor even remain in one place, but had to jump up and pace the\ +room with rapid steps. Now he seemed to see her in the early days of\ +their marriage, with bare shoulders and a languid, passionate look on\ +her face, and then immediately he saw beside her Dolokhov's handsome,\ +insolent, hard, and mocking face as he had seen it at the banquet, and\ +then that same face pale, quivering, and suffering, as it had been when\ +he reeled and sank on the snow.\ +\ +"What has happened?" he asked himself. "I have killed her lover, yes,\ +killed my wife's lover. Yes, that was it! And why? How did I come to do\ +it?"--"Because you married her," answered an inner voice.\ +\ +"But in what was I to blame?" he asked. "In marrying her without loving\ +her; in deceiving yourself and her." And he vividly recalled that moment\ +after supper at Prince Vasili's, when he spoke those words he had found\ +so difficult to utter: "I love you." "It all comes from that! Even then\ +I felt it," he thought. "I felt then that it was not so, that I had no\ +right to do it. And so it turns out."\ +\ +He remembered his honeymoon and blushed at the recollection.\ +Particularly vivid, humiliating, and shameful was the recollection of\ +how one day soon after his marriage he came out of the bedroom into his\ +study a little before noon in his silk dressing gown and found his head\ +steward there, who, bowing respectfully, looked into his face and at his\ +dressing gown and smiled slightly, as if expressing respectful\ +understanding of his employer's happiness.\ +\ +"But how often I have felt proud of her, proud of her majestic beauty\ +and social tact," thought he; "been proud of my house, in which she\ +received all Petersburg, proud of her unapproachability and beauty. So\ +this is what I was proud of! I then thought that I did not understand\ +her. How often when considering her character I have told myself that I\ +was to blame for not understanding her, for not understanding that\ +constant composure and complacency and lack of all interests or desires,\ +and the whole secret lies in the terrible truth that she is a depraved\ +woman. Now I have spoken that terrible word to myself all has become\ +clear.\ +\ +"Anatole used to come to borrow money from her and used to kiss her\ +naked shoulders. She did not give him the money, but let herself be\ +kissed. Her father in jest tried to rouse her jealousy, and she replied\ +with a calm smile that she was not so stupid as to be jealous: 'Let him\ +do what he pleases,' she used to say of me. One day I asked her if she\ +felt any symptoms of pregnancy. She laughed contemptuously and said she\ +was not a fool to want to have children, and that she was not going to\ +have any children by me."\ +\ +Then he recalled the coarseness and bluntness of her thoughts and the\ +vulgarity of the expressions that were natural to her, though she had\ +been brought up in the most aristocratic circles.\ +\ +"I'm not such a fool.... Just you try it on.... Allez-vous promener," *\ +she used to say. Often seeing the success she had with young and old men\ +and women Pierre could not understand why he did not love her.\ +\ +\ +* "You clear out of this."\ +\ +"Yes, I never loved her," said he to himself; "I knew she was a depraved\ +woman," he repeated, "but dared not admit it to myself. And now there's\ +Dolokhov sitting in the snow with a forced smile and perhaps dying,\ +while meeting my remorse with some forced bravado!"\ +\ +Pierre was one of those people who, in spite of an appearance of what is\ +called weak character, do not seek a confidant in their troubles. He\ +digested his sufferings alone.\ +\ +"It is all, all her fault," he said to himself; "but what of that? Why\ +did I bind myself to her? Why did I say 'Je vous aime' * to her, which\ +was a lie, and worse than a lie? I am guilty and must endure... what? A\ +slur on my name? A misfortune for life? Oh, that's nonsense," he\ +thought. "The slur on my name and honor--that's all apart from myself."\ +\ +\ +* I love you.\ +\ +"Louis XVI was executed because they said he was dishonorable and a\ +criminal," came into Pierre's head, "and from their point of view they\ +were right, as were those too who canonized him and died a martyr's\ +death for his sake. Then Robespierre was beheaded for being a despot.\ +Who is right and who is wrong? No one! But if you are alive--live:\ +tomorrow you'll die as I might have died an hour ago. And is it worth\ +tormenting oneself, when one has only a moment of life in comparison\ +with eternity?"\ +\ +But at the moment when he imagined himself calmed by such reflections,\ +she suddenly came into his mind as she was at the moments when he had\ +most strongly expressed his insincere love for her, and he felt the\ +blood rush to his heart and had again to get up and move about and break\ +and tear whatever came to his hand. "Why did I tell her that 'Je vous\ +aime'?" he kept repeating to himself. And when he had said it for the\ +tenth time, Moliere's words: "Mais que diable allait-il faire dans cette\ +galere?"* occurred to him, and he began to laugh at himself.\ +\ +\ +* "But what the devil was he doing in that galley?"\ +\ +In the night he called his valet and told him to pack up to go to\ +Petersburg. He could not imagine how he could speak to her now. He\ +resolved to go away next day and leave a letter informing her of his\ +intention to part from her forever.\ +\ +Next morning when the valet came into the room with his coffee, Pierre\ +was lying asleep on the ottoman with an open book in his hand.\ +\ +He woke up and looked round for a while with a startled expression,\ +unable to realize where he was.\ +\ +"The countess told me to inquire whether your excellency was at home,"\ +said the valet.\ +\ +But before Pierre could decide what answer he would send, the countess\ +herself in a white satin dressing gown embroidered with silver and with\ +simply dressed hair (two immense plaits twice round her lovely head like\ +a coronet) entered the room, calm and majestic, except that there was a\ +wrathful wrinkle on her rather prominent marble brow. With her\ +imperturbable calm she did not begin to speak in front of the valet. She\ +knew of the duel and had come to speak about it. She waited till the\ +valet had set down the coffee things and left the room. Pierre looked at\ +her timidly over his spectacles, and like a hare surrounded by hounds\ +who lays back her ears and continues to crouch motionless before her\ +enemies, he tried to continue reading. But feeling this to be senseless\ +and impossible, he again glanced timidly at her. She did not sit down\ +but looked at him with a contemptuous smile, waiting for the valet to\ +go.\ +\ +"Well, what's this now? What have you been up to now, I should like to\ +know?" she asked sternly.\ +\ +"I? What have I...?" stammered Pierre.\ +\ +"So it seems you're a hero, eh? Come now, what was this duel about? What\ +is it meant to prove? What? I ask you."\ +\ +Pierre turned over heavily on the ottoman and opened his mouth, but\ +could not reply.\ +\ +"If you won't answer, I'll tell you..." Helene went on. "You believe\ +everything you're told. You were told..." Helene laughed, "that Dolokhov\ +was my lover," she said in French with her coarse plainness of speech,\ +uttering the word amant as casually as any other word, "and you believed\ +it! Well, what have you proved? What does this duel prove? That you're a\ +fool, que vous etes un sot, but everybody knew that. What will be the\ +result? That I shall be the laughingstock of all Moscow, that everyone\ +will say that you, drunk and not knowing what you were about, challenged\ +a man you are jealous of without cause." Helene raised her voice and\ +became more and more excited, "A man who's a better man than you in\ +every way..."\ +\ +"Hm... Hm...!" growled Pierre, frowning without looking at her, and not\ +moving a muscle.\ +\ +"And how could you believe he was my lover? Why? Because I like his\ +company? If you were cleverer and more agreeable, I should prefer\ +yours."\ +\ +"Don't speak to me... I beg you," muttered Pierre hoarsely.\ +\ +"Why shouldn't I speak? I can speak as I like, and I tell you plainly\ +that there are not many wives with husbands such as you who would not\ +have taken lovers (des amants), but I have not done so," said she.\ +\ +Pierre wished to say something, looked at her with eyes whose strange\ +expression she did not understand, and lay down again. He was suffering\ +physically at that moment, there was a weight on his chest and he could\ +not breathe. He knew that he must do something to put an end to this\ +suffering, but what he wanted to do was too terrible.\ +\ +"We had better separate," he muttered in a broken voice.\ +\ +"Separate? Very well, but only if you give me a fortune," said Helene.\ +"Separate! That's a thing to frighten me with!"\ +\ +Pierre leaped up from the sofa and rushed staggering toward her.\ +\ +"I'll kill you!" he shouted, and seizing the marble top of a table with\ +a strength he had never before felt, he made a step toward her\ +brandishing the slab.\ +\ +Helene's face became terrible, she shrieked and sprang aside. His\ +father's nature showed itself in Pierre. He felt the fascination and\ +delight of frenzy. He flung down the slab, broke it, and swooping down\ +on her with outstretched hands shouted, "Get out!" in such a terrible\ +voice that the whole house heard it with horror. God knows what he would\ +have done at that moment had Helene not fled from the room.\ +\ +A week later Pierre gave his wife full power to control all his estates\ +in Great Russia, which formed the larger part of his property, and left\ +for Petersburg alone.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER VII\ +\ +Two months had elapsed since the news of the battle of Austerlitz and\ +the loss of Prince Andrew had reached Bald Hills, and in spite of the\ +letters sent through the embassy and all the searches made, his body had\ +not been found nor was he on the list of prisoners. What was worst of\ +all for his relations was the fact that there was still a possibility of\ +his having been picked up on the battlefield by the people of the place\ +and that he might now be lying, recovering or dying, alone among\ +strangers and unable to send news of himself. The gazettes from which\ +the old prince first heard of the defeat at Austerlitz stated, as usual\ +very briefly and vaguely, that after brilliant engagements the Russians\ +had had to retreat and had made their withdrawal in perfect order. The\ +old prince understood from this official report that our army had been\ +defeated. A week after the gazette report of the battle of Austerlitz\ +came a letter from Kutuzov informing the prince of the fate that had\ +befallen his son.\ +\ +"Your son," wrote Kutuzov, "fell before my eyes, a standard in his hand\ +and at the head of a regiment--he fell as a hero, worthy of his father\ +and his fatherland. To the great regret of myself and of the whole army\ +it is still uncertain whether he is alive or not. I comfort myself and\ +you with the hope that your son is alive, for otherwise he would have\ +been mentioned among the officers found on the field of battle, a list\ +of whom has been sent me under flag of truce."\ +\ +After receiving this news late in the evening, when he was alone in his\ +study, the old prince went for his walk as usual next morning, but he\ +was silent with his steward, the gardener, and the architect, and though\ +he looked very grim he said nothing to anyone.\ +\ +When Princess Mary went to him at the usual hour he was working at his\ +lathe and, as usual, did not look round at her.\ +\ +"Ah, Princess Mary!" he said suddenly in an unnatural voice, throwing\ +down his chisel. (The wheel continued to revolve by its own impetus, and\ +Princess Mary long remembered the dying creak of that wheel, which\ +merged in her memory with what followed.)\ +\ +She approached him, saw his face, and something gave way within her. Her\ +eyes grew dim. By the expression of her father's face, not sad, not\ +crushed, but angry and working unnaturally, she saw that hanging over\ +her and about to crush her was some terrible misfortune, the worst in\ +life, one she had not yet experienced, irreparable and incomprehensible-\ +-the death of one she loved.\ +\ +"Father! Andrew!"--said the ungraceful, awkward princess with such an\ +indescribable charm of sorrow and self-forgetfulness that her father\ +could not bear her look but turned away with a sob.\ +\ +"Bad news! He's not among the prisoners nor among the killed! Kutuzov\ +writes..." and he screamed as piercingly as if he wished to drive the\ +princess away by that scream... "Killed!"\ +\ +The princess did not fall down or faint. She was already pale, but on\ +hearing these words her face changed and something brightened in her\ +beautiful, radiant eyes. It was as if joy--a supreme joy apart from the\ +joys and sorrows of this world--overflowed the great grief within her.\ +She forgot all fear of her father, went up to him, took his hand, and\ +drawing him down put her arm round his thin, scraggy neck.\ +\ +"Father," she said, "do not turn away from me, let us weep together."\ +\ +"Scoundrels! Blackguards!" shrieked the old man, turning his face away\ +from her. "Destroying the army, destroying the men! And why? Go, go and\ +tell Lise."\ +\ +The princess sank helplessly into an armchair beside her father and\ +wept. She saw her brother now as he had been at the moment when he took\ +leave of her and of Lise, his look tender yet proud. She saw him tender\ +and amused as he was when he put on the little icon. "Did he believe?\ +Had he repented of his unbelief? Was he now there? There in the realms\ +of eternal peace and blessedness?" she thought.\ +\ +"Father, tell me how it happened," she asked through her tears.\ +\ +"Go! Go! Killed in battle, where the best of Russian men and Russia's\ +glory were led to destruction. Go, Princess Mary. Go and tell Lise. I\ +will follow."\ +\ +When Princess Mary returned from her father, the little princess sat\ +working and looked up with that curious expression of inner, happy calm\ +peculiar to pregnant women. It was evident that her eyes did not see\ +Princess Mary but were looking within... into herself... at something\ +joyful and mysterious taking place within her.\ +\ +"Mary," she said, moving away from the embroidery frame and lying back,\ +"give me your hand." She took her sister-in-law's hand and held it below\ +her waist.\ +\ +Her eyes were smiling expectantly, her downy lip rose and remained\ +lifted in childlike happiness.\ +\ +Princess Mary knelt down before her and hid her face in the folds of her\ +sister-in-law's dress.\ +\ +"There, there! Do you feel it? I feel so strange. And do you know, Mary,\ +I am going to love him very much," said Lise, looking with bright and\ +happy eyes at her sister-in-law.\ +\ +Princess Mary could not lift her head, she was weeping.\ +\ +"What is the matter, Mary?"\ +\ +"Nothing... only I feel sad... sad about Andrew," she said, wiping away\ +her tears on her sister-in-law's knee.\ +\ +Several times in the course of the morning Princess Mary began trying to\ +prepare her sister-in-law, and every time began to cry. Unobservant as\ +was the little princess, these tears, the cause of which she did not\ +understand, agitated her. She said nothing but looked about uneasily as\ +if in search of something. Before dinner the old prince, of whom she was\ +always afraid, came into her room with a peculiarly restless and malign\ +expression and went out again without saying a word. She looked at\ +Princess Mary, then sat thinking for a while with that expression of\ +attention to something within her that is only seen in pregnant women,\ +and suddenly began to cry.\ +\ +"Has anything come from Andrew?" she asked.\ +\ +"No, you know it's too soon for news. But my father is anxious and I\ +feel afraid."\ +\ +"So there's nothing?"\ +\ +"Nothing," answered Princess Mary, looking firmly with her radiant eyes\ +at her sister-in-law.\ +\ +She had determined not to tell her and persuaded her father to hide the\ +terrible news from her till after her confinement, which was expected\ +within a few days. Princess Mary and the old prince each bore and hid\ +their grief in their own way. The old prince would not cherish any hope:\ +he made up his mind that Prince Andrew had been killed, and though he\ +sent an official to Austria to seek for traces of his son, he ordered a\ +monument from Moscow which he intended to erect in his own garden to his\ +memory, and he told everybody that his son had been killed. He tried not\ +to change his former way of life, but his strength failed him. He walked\ +less, ate less, slept less, and became weaker every day. Princess Mary\ +hoped. She prayed for her brother as living and was always awaiting news\ +of his return.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER VIII\ +\ +"Dearest," said the little princess after breakfast on the morning of\ +the nineteenth March, and her downy little lip rose from old habit, but\ +as sorrow was manifest in every smile, the sound of every word, and even\ +every footstep in that house since the terrible news had come, so now\ +the smile of the little princess--influenced by the general mood though\ +without knowing its cause--was such as to remind one still more of the\ +general sorrow.\ +\ +"Dearest, I'm afraid this morning's fruschtique *--as Foka the cook\ +calls it--has disagreed with me."\ +\ +\ +* Fruhstuck: breakfast.\ +\ +"What is the matter with you, my darling? You look pale. Oh, you are\ +very pale!" said Princess Mary in alarm, running with her soft,\ +ponderous steps up to her sister-in-law.\ +\ +"Your excellency, should not Mary Bogdanovna be sent for?" said one of\ +the maids who was present. (Mary Bogdanovna was a midwife from the\ +neighboring town, who had been at Bald Hills for the last fortnight.)\ +\ +"Oh yes," assented Princess Mary, "perhaps that's it. I'll go. Courage,\ +my angel." She kissed Lise and was about to leave the room.\ +\ +"Oh, no, no!" And besides the pallor and the physical suffering on the\ +little princess' face, an expression of childish fear of inevitable pain\ +showed itself.\ +\ +"No, it's only indigestion?... Say it's only indigestion, say so, Mary!\ +Say..." And the little princess began to cry capriciously like a\ +suffering child and to wring her little hands even with some\ +affectation. Princess Mary ran out of the room to fetch Mary Bogdanovna.\ +\ +"Mon Dieu! Mon Dieu! Oh!" she heard as she left the room.\ +\ +The midwife was already on her way to meet her, rubbing her small, plump\ +white hands with an air of calm importance.\ +\ +"Mary Bogdanovna, I think it's beginning!" said Princess Mary looking at\ +the midwife with wide-open eyes of alarm.\ +\ +"Well, the Lord be thanked, Princess," said Mary Bogdanovna, not\ +hastening her steps. "You young ladies should not know anything about\ +it."\ +\ +"But how is it the doctor from Moscow is not here yet?" said the\ +princess. (In accordance with Lise's and Prince Andrew's wishes they had\ +sent in good time to Moscow for a doctor and were expecting him at any\ +moment.)\ +\ +"No matter, Princess, don't be alarmed," said Mary Bogdanovna. "We'll\ +manage very well without a doctor."\ +\ +Five minutes later Princess Mary from her room heard something heavy\ +being carried by. She looked out. The men servants were carrying the\ +large leather sofa from Prince Andrew's study into the bedroom. On their\ +faces was a quiet and solemn look.\ +\ +Princess Mary sat alone in her room listening to the sounds in the\ +house, now and then opening her door when someone passed and watching\ +what was going on in the passage. Some women passing with quiet steps in\ +and out of the bedroom glanced at the princess and turned away. She did\ +not venture to ask any questions, and shut the door again, now sitting\ +down in her easy chair, now taking her prayer book, now kneeling before\ +the icon stand. To her surprise and distress she found that her prayers\ +did not calm her excitement. Suddenly her door opened softly and her old\ +nurse, Praskovya Savishna, who hardly ever came to that room as the old\ +prince had forbidden it, appeared on the threshold with a shawl round\ +her head.\ +\ +"I've come to sit with you a bit, Masha," said the nurse, "and here I've\ +brought the prince's wedding candles to light before his saint, my\ +angel," she said with a sigh.\ +\ +"Oh, nurse, I'm so glad!"\ +\ +"God is merciful, birdie."\ +\ +The nurse lit the gilt candles before the icons and sat down by the door\ +with her knitting. Princess Mary took a book and began reading. Only\ +when footsteps or voices were heard did they look at one another, the\ +princess anxious and inquiring, the nurse encouraging. Everyone in the\ +house was dominated by the same feeling that Princess Mary experienced\ +as she sat in her room. But owing to the superstition that the fewer the\ +people who know of it the less a woman in travail suffers, everyone\ +tried to pretend not to know; no one spoke of it, but apart from the\ +ordinary staid and respectful good manners habitual in the prince's\ +household, a common anxiety, a softening of the heart, and a\ +consciousness that something great and mysterious was being accomplished\ +at that moment made itself felt.\ +\ +There was no laughter in the maids' large hall. In the men servants'\ +hall all sat waiting, silently and alert. In the outlying serfs'\ +quarters torches and candles were burning and no one slept. The old\ +prince, stepping on his heels, paced up and down his study and sent\ +Tikhon to ask Mary Bogdanovna what news.--"Say only that 'the prince\ +told me to ask,' and come and tell me her answer."\ +\ +"Inform the prince that labor has begun," said Mary Bogdanovna, giving\ +the messenger a significant look.\ +\ +Tikhon went and told the prince.\ +\ +"Very good!" said the prince closing the door behind him, and Tikhon did\ +not hear the slightest sound from the study after that.\ +\ +After a while he re-entered it as if to snuff the candles, and, seeing\ +the prince was lying on the sofa, looked at him, noticed his perturbed\ +face, shook his head, and going up to him silently kissed him on the\ +shoulder and left the room without snuffing the candles or saying why he\ +had entered. The most solemn mystery in the world continued its course.\ +Evening passed, night came, and the feeling of suspense and softening of\ +heart in the presence of the unfathomable did not lessen but increased.\ +No one slept.\ +\ +It was one of those March nights when winter seems to wish to resume its\ +sway and scatters its last snows and storms with desperate fury. A relay\ +of horses had been sent up the highroad to meet the German doctor from\ +Moscow who was expected every moment, and men on horseback with lanterns\ +were sent to the crossroads to guide him over the country road with its\ +hollows and snow-covered pools of water.\ +\ +Princess Mary had long since put aside her book: she sat silent, her\ +luminous eyes fixed on her nurse's wrinkled face (every line of which\ +she knew so well), on the lock of gray hair that escaped from under the\ +kerchief, and the loose skin that hung under her chin.\ +\ +Nurse Savishna, knitting in hand, was telling in low tones, scarcely\ +hearing or understanding her own words, what she had told hundreds of\ +times before: how the late princess had given birth to Princess Mary in\ +Kishenev with only a Moldavian peasant woman to help instead of a\ +midwife.\ +\ +"God is merciful, doctors are never needed," she said.\ +\ +Suddenly a gust of wind beat violently against the casement of the\ +window, from which the double frame had been removed (by order of the\ +prince, one window frame was removed in each room as soon as the larks\ +returned), and, forcing open a loosely closed latch, set the damask\ +curtain flapping and blew out the candle with its chill, snowy draft.\ +Princess Mary shuddered; her nurse, putting down the stocking she was\ +knitting, went to the window and leaning out tried to catch the open\ +casement. The cold wind flapped the ends of her kerchief and her loose\ +locks of gray hair.\ +\ +"Princess, my dear, there's someone driving up the avenue!" she said,\ +holding the casement and not closing it. "With lanterns. Most likely the\ +doctor."\ +\ +"Oh, my God! thank God!" said Princess Mary. "I must go and meet him, he\ +does not know Russian."\ +\ +Princess Mary threw a shawl over her head and ran to meet the newcomer.\ +As she was crossing the anteroom she saw through the window a carriage\ +with lanterns, standing at the entrance. She went out on the stairs. On\ +a banister post stood a tallow candle which guttered in the draft. On\ +the landing below, Philip, the footman, stood looking scared and holding\ +another candle. Still lower, beyond the turn of the staircase, one could\ +hear the footstep of someone in thick felt boots, and a voice that\ +seemed familiar to Princess Mary was saying something.\ +\ +"Thank God!" said the voice. "And Father?"\ +\ +"Gone to bed," replied the voice of Demyan the house steward, who was\ +downstairs.\ +\ +Then the voice said something more, Demyan replied, and the steps in the\ +felt boots approached the unseen bend of the staircase more rapidly.\ +\ +"It's Andrew!" thought Princess Mary. "No it can't be, that would be too\ +extraordinary," and at the very moment she thought this, the face and\ +figure of Prince Andrew, in a fur cloak the deep collar of which covered\ +with snow, appeared on the landing where the footman stood with the\ +candle. Yes, it was he, pale, thin, with a changed and strangely\ +softened but agitated expression on his face. He came up the stairs and\ +embraced his sister.\ +\ +"You did not get my letter?" he asked, and not waiting for a reply--\ +which he would not have received, for the princess was unable to speak--\ +he turned back, rapidly mounted the stairs again with the doctor who had\ +entered the hall after him (they had met at the last post station), and\ +again embraced his sister.\ +\ +"What a strange fate, Masha darling!" And having taken off his cloak and\ +felt boots, he went to the little princess' apartment.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER IX\ +\ +The little princess lay supported by pillows, with a white cap on her\ +head (the pains had just left her). Strands of her black hair lay round\ +her inflamed and perspiring cheeks, her charming rosy mouth with its\ +downy lip was open and she was smiling joyfully. Prince Andrew entered\ +and paused facing her at the foot of the sofa on which she was lying.\ +Her glittering eyes, filled with childlike fear and excitement, rested\ +on him without changing their expression. "I love you all and have done\ +no harm to anyone; why must I suffer so? Help me!" her look seemed to\ +say. She saw her husband, but did not realize the significance of his\ +appearance before her now. Prince Andrew went round the sofa and kissed\ +her forehead.\ +\ +"My darling!" he said--a word he had never used to her before. "God is\ +merciful...."\ +\ +She looked at him inquiringly and with childlike reproach.\ +\ +"I expected help from you and I get none, none from you either!" said\ +her eyes. She was not surprised at his having come; she did not realize\ +that he had come. His coming had nothing to do with her sufferings or\ +with their relief. The pangs began again and Mary Bogdanovna advised\ +Prince Andrew to leave the room.\ +\ +The doctor entered. Prince Andrew went out and, meeting Princess Mary,\ +again joined her. They began talking in whispers, but their talk broke\ +off at every moment. They waited and listened.\ +\ +"Go, dear," said Princess Mary.\ +\ +Prince Andrew went again to his wife and sat waiting in the room next to\ +hers. A woman came from the bedroom with a frightened face and became\ +confused when she saw Prince Andrew. He covered his face with his hands\ +and remained so for some minutes. Piteous, helpless, animal moans came\ +through the door. Prince Andrew got up, went to the door, and tried to\ +open it. Someone was holding it shut.\ +\ +"You can't come in! You can't!" said a terrified voice from within.\ +\ +He began pacing the room. The screaming ceased, and a few more seconds\ +went by. Then suddenly a terrible shriek--it could not be hers, she\ +could not scream like that--came from the bedroom. Prince Andrew ran to\ +the door; the scream ceased and he heard the wail of an infant.\ +\ +"What have they taken a baby in there for?" thought Prince Andrew in the\ +first second. "A baby? What baby...? Why is there a baby there? Or is\ +the baby born?"\ +\ +Then suddenly he realized the joyful significance of that wail; tears\ +choked him, and leaning his elbows on the window sill be began to cry,\ +sobbing like a child. The door opened. The doctor with his shirt sleeves\ +tucked up, without a coat, pale and with a trembling jaw, came out of\ +the room. Prince Andrew turned to him, but the doctor gave him a\ +bewildered look and passed by without a word. A woman rushed out and\ +seeing Prince Andrew stopped, hesitating on the threshold. He went into\ +his wife's room. She was lying dead, in the same position he had seen\ +her in five minutes before and, despite the fixed eyes and the pallor of\ +the cheeks, the same expression was on her charming childlike face with\ +its upper lip covered with tiny black hair.\ +\ +"I love you all, and have done no harm to anyone; and what have you done\ +to me?"--said her charming, pathetic, dead face.\ +\ +In a corner of the room something red and tiny gave a grunt and squealed\ +in Mary Bogdanovna's trembling white hands.\ +\ +Two hours later Prince Andrew, stepping softly, went into his father's\ +room. The old man already knew everything. He was standing close to the\ +door and as soon as it opened his rough old arms closed like a vise\ +round his son's neck, and without a word he began to sob like a child.\ +\ +Three days later the little princess was buried, and Prince Andrew went\ +up the steps to where the coffin stood, to give her the farewell kiss.\ +And there in the coffin was the same face, though with closed eyes. "Ah,\ +what have you done to me?" it still seemed to say, and Prince Andrew\ +felt that something gave way in his soul and that he was guilty of a sin\ +he could neither remedy nor forget. He could not weep. The old man too\ +came up and kissed the waxen little hands that lay quietly crossed one\ +on the other on her breast, and to him, too, her face seemed to say:\ +"Ah, what have you done to me, and why?" And at the sight the old man\ +turned angrily away.\ +\ +Another five days passed, and then the young Prince Nicholas Andreevich\ +was baptized. The wet nurse supported the coverlet with her chin, while\ +the priest with a goose feather anointed the boy's little red and\ +wrinkled soles and palms.\ +\ +His grandfather, who was his godfather, trembling and afraid of dropping\ +him, carried the infant round the battered tin font and handed him over\ +to the godmother, Princess Mary. Prince Andrew sat in another room,\ +faint with fear lest the baby should be drowned in the font, and awaited\ +the termination of the ceremony. He looked up joyfully at the baby when\ +the nurse brought it to him and nodded approval when she told him that\ +the wax with the baby's hair had not sunk in the font but had floated.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER X\ +\ +Rostov's share in Dolokhov's duel with Bezukhov was hushed up by the\ +efforts of the old count, and instead of being degraded to the ranks as\ +he expected he was appointed an adjutant to the governor general of\ +Moscow. As a result he could not go to the country with the rest of the\ +family, but was kept all summer in Moscow by his new duties. Dolokhov\ +recovered, and Rostov became very friendly with him during his\ +convalescence. Dolokhov lay ill at his mother's who loved him\ +passionately and tenderly, and old Mary Ivanovna, who had grown fond of\ +Rostov for his friendship to her Fedya, often talked to him about her\ +son.\ +\ +"Yes, Count," she would say, "he is too noble and pure-souled for our\ +present, depraved world. No one now loves virtue; it seems like a\ +reproach to everyone. Now tell me, Count, was it right, was it\ +honorable, of Bezukhov? And Fedya, with his noble spirit, loved him and\ +even now never says a word against him. Those pranks in Petersburg when\ +they played some tricks on a policeman, didn't they do it together? And\ +there! Bezukhov got off scotfree, while Fedya had to bear the whole\ +burden on his shoulders. Fancy what he had to go through! It's true he\ +has been reinstated, but how could they fail to do that? I think there\ +were not many such gallant sons of the fatherland out there as he. And\ +now--this duel! Have these people no feeling, or honor? Knowing him to\ +be an only son, to challenge him and shoot so straight! It's well God\ +had mercy on us. And what was it for? Who doesn't have intrigues\ +nowadays? Why, if he was so jealous, as I see things he should have\ +shown it sooner, but he lets it go on for months. And then to call him\ +out, reckoning on Fedya not fighting because he owed him money! What\ +baseness! What meanness! I know you understand Fedya, my dear count;\ +that, believe me, is why I am so fond of you. Few people do understand\ +him. He is such a lofty, heavenly soul!"\ +\ +Dolokhov himself during his convalescence spoke to Rostov in a way no\ +one would have expected of him.\ +\ +"I know people consider me a bad man!" he said. "Let them! I don't care\ +a straw about anyone but those I love; but those I love, I love so that\ +I would give my life for them, and the others I'd throttle if they stood\ +in my way. I have an adored, a priceless mother, and two or three\ +friends--you among them--and as for the rest I only care about them in\ +so far as they are harmful or useful. And most of them are harmful,\ +especially the women. Yes, dear boy," he continued, "I have met loving,\ +noble, high-minded men, but I have not yet met any women--countesses or\ +cooks--who were not venal. I have not yet met that divine purity and\ +devotion I look for in women. If I found such a one I'd give my life for\ +her! But those!..." and he made a gesture of contempt. "And believe me,\ +if I still value my life it is only because I still hope to meet such a\ +divine creature, who will regenerate, purify, and elevate me. But you\ +don't understand it."\ +\ +"Oh, yes, I quite understand," answered Rostov, who was under his new\ +friend's influence.\ +\ +In the autumn the Rostovs returned to Moscow. Early in the winter\ +Denisov also came back and stayed with them. The first half of the\ +winter of 1806, which Nicholas Rostov spent in Moscow, was one of the\ +happiest, merriest times for him and the whole family. Nicholas brought\ +many young men to his parents' house. Vera was a handsome girl of\ +twenty; Sonya a girl of sixteen with all the charm of an opening flower;\ +Natasha, half grown up and half child, was now childishly amusing, now\ +girlishly enchanting.\ +\ +At that time in the Rostovs' house there prevailed an amorous atmosphere\ +characteristic of homes where there are very young and very charming\ +girls. Every young man who came to the house--seeing those\ +impressionable, smiling young faces (smiling probably at their own\ +happiness), feeling the eager bustle around him, and hearing the fitful\ +bursts of song and music and the inconsequent but friendly prattle of\ +young girls ready for anything and full of hope--experienced the same\ +feeling; sharing with the young folk of the Rostovs' household a\ +readiness to fall in love and an expectation of happiness.\ +\ +Among the young men introduced by Rostov one of the first was Dolokhov,\ +whom everyone in the house liked except Natasha. She almost quarreled\ +with her brother about him. She insisted that he was a bad man, and that\ +in the duel with Bezukhov, Pierre was right and Dolokhov wrong, and\ +further that he was disagreeable and unnatural.\ +\ +"There's nothing for me to understand," she cried out with resolute\ +self-will, "he is wicked and heartless. There now, I like your Denisov\ +though he is a rake and all that, still I like him; so you see I do\ +understand. I don't know how to put it... with this one everything is\ +calculated, and I don't like that. But Denisov..."\ +\ +"Oh, Denisov is quite different," replied Nicholas, implying that even\ +Denisov was nothing compared to Dolokhov--"you must understand what a\ +soul there is in Dolokhov, you should see him with his mother. What a\ +heart!"\ +\ +"Well, I don't know about that, but I am uncomfortable with him. And do\ +you know he has fallen in love with Sonya?"\ +\ +"What nonsense..."\ +\ +"I'm certain of it; you'll see."\ +\ +Natasha's prediction proved true. Dolokhov, who did not usually care for\ +the society of ladies, began to come often to the house, and the\ +question for whose sake he came (though no one spoke of it) was soon\ +settled. He came because of Sonya. And Sonya, though she would never\ +have dared to say so, knew it and blushed scarlet every time Dolokhov\ +appeared.\ +\ +Dolokhov often dined at the Rostovs', never missed a performance at\ +which they were present, and went to Iogel's balls for young people\ +which the Rostovs always attended. He was pointedly attentive to Sonya\ +and looked at her in such a way that not only could she not bear his\ +glances without coloring, but even the old countess and Natasha blushed\ +when they saw his looks.\ +\ +It was evident that this strange, strong man was under the irresistible\ +influence of the dark, graceful girl who loved another.\ +\ +Rostov noticed something new in Dolokhov's relations with Sonya, but he\ +did not explain to himself what these new relations were. "They're\ +always in love with someone," he thought of Sonya and Natasha. But he\ +was not as much at ease with Sonya and Dolokhov as before and was less\ +frequently at home.\ +\ +In the autumn of 1806 everybody had again begun talking of the war with\ +Napoleon with even greater warmth than the year before. Orders were\ +given to raise recruits, ten men in every thousand for the regular army,\ +and besides this, nine men in every thousand for the militia. Everywhere\ +Bonaparte was anathematized and in Moscow nothing but the coming war was\ +talked of. For the Rostov family the whole interest of these\ +preparations for war lay in the fact that Nicholas would not hear of\ +remaining in Moscow, and only awaited the termination of Denisov's\ +furlough after Christmas to return with him to their regiment. His\ +approaching departure did not prevent his amusing himself, but rather\ +gave zest to his pleasures. He spent the greater part of his time away\ +from home, at dinners, parties, and balls.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XI\ +\ +On the third day after Christmas Nicholas dined at home, a thing he had\ +rarely done of late. It was a grand farewell dinner, as he and Denisov\ +were leaving to join their regiment after Epiphany. About twenty people\ +were present, including Dolokhov and Denisov.\ +\ +Never had love been so much in the air, and never had the amorous\ +atmosphere made itself so strongly felt in the Rostovs' house as at this\ +holiday time. "Seize the moments of happiness, love and be loved! That\ +is the only reality in the world, all else is folly. It is the one thing\ +we are interested in here," said the spirit of the place.\ +\ +Nicholas, having as usual exhausted two pairs of horses, without\ +visiting all the places he meant to go to and where he had been invited,\ +returned home just before dinner. As soon as he entered he noticed and\ +felt the tension of the amorous air in the house, and also noticed a\ +curious embarrassment among some of those present. Sonya, Dolokhov, and\ +the old countess were especially disturbed, and to a lesser degree\ +Natasha. Nicholas understood that something must have happened between\ +Sonya and Dolokhov before dinner, and with the kindly sensitiveness\ +natural to him was very gentle and wary with them both at dinner. On\ +that same evening there was to be one of the balls that Iogel (the\ +dancing master) gave for his pupils during the holidays.\ +\ +"Nicholas, will you come to Iogel's? Please do!" said Natasha. "He asked\ +you, and Vasili Dmitrich * is also going."\ +\ +\ +* Denisov.\ +\ +"Where would I not go at the countess' command!" said Denisov, who at\ +the Rostovs' had jocularly assumed the role of Natasha's knight. "I'm\ +even weady to dance the pas de chale."\ +\ +"If I have time," answered Nicholas. "But I promised the Arkharovs; they\ +have a party."\ +\ +"And you?" he asked Dolokhov, but as soon as he had asked the question\ +he noticed that it should not have been put.\ +\ +"Perhaps," coldly and angrily replied Dolokhov, glancing at Sonya, and,\ +scowling, he gave Nicholas just such a look as he had given Pierre at\ +the club dinner.\ +\ +"There is something up," thought Nicholas, and he was further confirmed\ +in this conclusion by the fact that Dolokhov left immediately after\ +dinner. He called Natasha and asked her what was the matter.\ +\ +"And I was looking for you," said Natasha running out to him. "I told\ +you, but you would not believe it," she said triumphantly. "He has\ +proposed to Sonya!"\ +\ +Little as Nicholas had occupied himself with Sonya of late, something\ +seemed to give way within him at this news. Dolokhov was a suitable and\ +in some respects a brilliant match for the dowerless, orphan girl. From\ +the point of view of the old countess and of society it was out of the\ +question for her to refuse him. And therefore Nicholas' first feeling on\ +hearing the news was one of anger with Sonya.... He tried to say,\ +"That's capital; of course she'll forget her childish promises and\ +accept the offer," but before he had time to say it Natasha began again.\ +\ +"And fancy! she refused him quite definitely!" adding, after a pause,\ +"she told him she loved another."\ +\ +"Yes, my Sonya could not have done otherwise!" thought Nicholas.\ +\ +"Much as Mamma pressed her, she refused, and I know she won't change\ +once she has said..."\ +\ +"And Mamma pressed her!" said Nicholas reproachfully.\ +\ +"Yes," said Natasha. "Do you know, Nicholas--don't be angry--but I know\ +you will not marry her. I know, heaven knows how, but I know for certain\ +that you won't marry her."\ +\ +"Now you don't know that at all!" said Nicholas. "But I must talk to\ +her. What a darling Sonya is!" he added with a smile.\ +\ +"Ah, she is indeed a darling! I'll send her to you."\ +\ +And Natasha kissed her brother and ran away.\ +\ +A minute later Sonya came in with a frightened, guilty, and scared look.\ +Nicholas went up to her and kissed her hand. This was the first time\ +since his return that they had talked alone and about their love.\ +\ +"Sophie," he began, timidly at first and then more and more boldly, "if\ +you wish to refuse one who is not only a brilliant and advantageous\ +match but a splendid, noble fellow... he is my friend..."\ +\ +Sonya interrupted him.\ +\ +"I have already refused," she said hurriedly.\ +\ +"If you are refusing for my sake, I am afraid that I..."\ +\ +Sonya again interrupted. She gave him an imploring, frightened look.\ +\ +"Nicholas, don't tell me that!" she said.\ +\ +"No, but I must. It may be arrogant of me, but still it is best to say\ +it. If you refuse him on my account, I must tell you the whole truth. I\ +love you, and I think I love you more than anyone else...."\ +\ +"That is enough for me," said Sonya, blushing.\ +\ +"No, but I have been in love a thousand times and shall fall in love\ +again, though for no one have I such a feeling of friendship,\ +confidence, and love as I have for you. Then I am young. Mamma does not\ +wish it. In a word, I make no promise. And I beg you to consider\ +Dolokhov's offer," he said, articulating his friend's name with\ +difficulty.\ +\ +"Don't say that to me! I want nothing. I love you as a brother and\ +always shall, and I want nothing more."\ +\ +"You are an angel: I am not worthy of you, but I am afraid of misleading\ +you."\ +\ +And Nicholas again kissed her hand.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XII\ +\ +Iogel's were the most enjoyable balls in Moscow. So said the mothers as\ +they watched their young people executing their newly learned steps, and\ +so said the youths and maidens themselves as they danced till they were\ +ready to drop, and so said the grown-up young men and women who came to\ +these balls with an air of condescension and found them most enjoyable.\ +That year two marriages had come of these balls. The two pretty young\ +Princesses Gorchakov met suitors there and were married and so further\ +increased the fame of these dances. What distinguished them from others\ +was the absence of host or hostess and the presence of the good-natured\ +Iogel, flying about like a feather and bowing according to the rules of\ +his art, as he collected the tickets from all his visitors. There was\ +the fact that only those came who wished to dance and amuse themselves\ +as girls of thirteen and fourteen do who are wearing long dresses for\ +the first time. With scarcely any exceptions they all were, or seemed to\ +be, pretty--so rapturous were their smiles and so sparkling their eyes.\ +Sometimes the best of the pupils, of whom Natasha, who was exceptionally\ +graceful, was first, even danced the pas de chale, but at this last ball\ +only the ecossaise, the anglaise, and the mazurka, which was just coming\ +into fashion, were danced. Iogel had taken a ballroom in Bezukhov's\ +house, and the ball, as everyone said, was a great success. There were\ +many pretty girls and the Rostov girls were among the prettiest. They\ +were both particularly happy and gay. That evening, proud of Dolokhov's\ +proposal, her refusal, and her explanation with Nicholas, Sonya twirled\ +about before she left home so that the maid could hardly get her hair\ +plaited, and she was transparently radiant with impulsive joy.\ +\ +Natasha no less proud of her first long dress and of being at a real\ +ball was even happier. They were both dressed in white muslin with pink\ +ribbons.\ +\ +Natasha fell in love the very moment she entered the ballroom. She was\ +not in love with anyone in particular, but with everyone. Whatever\ +person she happened to look at she was in love with for that moment.\ +\ +"Oh, how delightful it is!" she kept saying, running up to Sonya.\ +\ +Nicholas and Denisov were walking up and down, looking with kindly\ +patronage at the dancers.\ +\ +"How sweet she is--she will be a weal beauty!" said Denisov.\ +\ +"Who?"\ +\ +"Countess Natasha," answered Denisov.\ +\ +"And how she dances! What gwace!" he said again after a pause.\ +\ +"Who are you talking about?"\ +\ +"About your sister," ejaculated Denisov testily.\ +\ +Rostov smiled.\ +\ +"My dear count, you were one of my best pupils--you must dance," said\ +little Iogel coming up to Nicholas. "Look how many charming young\ +ladies-" He turned with the same request to Denisov who was also a\ +former pupil of his.\ +\ +"No, my dear fellow, I'll be a wallflower," said Denisov. "Don't you\ +wecollect what bad use I made of your lessons?"\ +\ +\ +"Oh no!" said Iogel, hastening to reassure him. "You were only\ +inattentive, but you had talent--oh yes, you had talent!"\ +\ +The band struck up the newly introduced mazurka. Nicholas could not\ +refuse Iogel and asked Sonya to dance. Denisov sat down by the old\ +ladies and, leaning on his saber and beating time with his foot, told\ +them something funny and kept them amused, while he watched the young\ +people dancing, Iogel with Natasha, his pride and his best pupil, were\ +the first couple. Noiselessly, skillfully stepping with his little feet\ +in low shoes, Iogel flew first across the hall with Natasha, who, though\ +shy, went on carefully executing her steps. Denisov did not take his\ +eyes off her and beat time with his saber in a way that clearly\ +indicated that if he was not dancing it was because he would not and not\ +because he could not. In the middle of a figure he beckoned to Rostov\ +who was passing:\ +\ +"This is not at all the thing," he said. "What sort of Polish mazuwka is\ +this? But she does dance splendidly."\ +\ +Knowing that Denisov had a reputation even in Poland for the masterly\ +way in which he danced the mazurka, Nicholas ran up to Natasha:\ +\ +"Go and choose Denisov. He is a real dancer, a wonder!" he said.\ +\ +When it came to Natasha's turn to choose a partner, she rose and,\ +tripping rapidly across in her little shoes trimmed with bows, ran\ +timidly to the corner where Denisov sat. She saw that everybody was\ +looking at her and waiting. Nicholas saw that Denisov was refusing\ +though he smiled delightedly. He ran up to them.\ +\ +"Please, Vasili Dmitrich," Natasha was saying, "do come!"\ +\ +"Oh no, let me off, Countess," Denisov replied.\ +\ +"Now then, Vaska," said Nicholas.\ +\ +"They coax me as if I were Vaska the cat!" said Denisov jokingly.\ +\ +"I'll sing for you a whole evening," said Natasha.\ +\ +"Oh, the faiwy! She can do anything with me!" said Denisov, and he\ +unhooked his saber. He came out from behind the chairs, clasped his\ +partner's hand firmly, threw back his head, and advanced his foot,\ +waiting for the beat. Only on horse back and in the mazurka was\ +Denisov's short stature not noticeable and he looked the fine fellow he\ +felt himself to be. At the right beat of the music he looked sideways at\ +his partner with a merry and triumphant air, suddenly stamped with one\ +foot, bounded from the floor like a ball, and flew round the room taking\ +his partner with him. He glided silently on one foot half across the\ +room, and seeming not to notice the chairs was dashing straight at them,\ +when suddenly, clinking his spurs and spreading out his legs, he stopped\ +short on his heels, stood so a second, stamped on the spot clanking his\ +spurs, whirled rapidly round, and, striking his left heel against his\ +right, flew round again in a circle. Natasha guessed what he meant to\ +do, and abandoning herself to him followed his lead hardly knowing how.\ +First he spun her round, holding her now with his left, now with his\ +right hand, then falling on one knee he twirled her round him, and again\ +jumping up, dashed so impetuously forward that it seemed as if he would\ +rush through the whole suite of rooms without drawing breath, and then\ +he suddenly stopped and performed some new and unexpected steps. When at\ +last, smartly whirling his partner round in front of her chair, he drew\ +up with a click of his spurs and bowed to her, Natasha did not even make\ +him a curtsy. She fixed her eyes on him in amazement, smiling as if she\ +did not recognize him.\ +\ +"What does this mean?" she brought out.\ +\ +Although Iogel did not acknowledge this to be the real mazurka, everyone\ +was delighted with Denisov's skill, he was asked again and again as a\ +partner, and the old men began smilingly to talk about Poland and the\ +good old days. Denisov, flushed after the mazurka and mopping himself\ +with his handkerchief, sat down by Natasha and did not leave her for the\ +rest of the evening.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XIII\ +\ +For two days after that Rostov did not see Dolokhov at his own or at\ +Dolokhov's home: on the third day he received a note from him:\ +\ +As I do not intend to be at your house again for reasons you know of,\ +and am going to rejoin my regiment, I am giving a farewell supper\ +tonight to my friends--come to the English Hotel.\ +\ +About ten o'clock Rostov went to the English Hotel straight from the\ +theater, where he had been with his family and Denisov. He was at once\ +shown to the best room, which Dolokhov had taken for that evening. Some\ +twenty men were gathered round a table at which Dolokhov sat between two\ +candles. On the table was a pile of gold and paper money, and he was\ +keeping the bank. Rostov had not seen him since his proposal and Sonya's\ +refusal and felt uncomfortable at the thought of how they would meet.\ +\ +Dolokhov's clear, cold glance met Rostov as soon as he entered the door,\ +as though he had long expected him.\ +\ +"It's a long time since we met," he said. "Thanks for coming. I'll just\ +finish dealing, and then Ilyushka will come with his chorus."\ +\ +"I called once or twice at your house," said Rostov, reddening.\ +\ +Dolokhov made no reply.\ +\ +"You may punt," he said.\ +\ +Rostov recalled at that moment a strange conversation he had once had\ +with Dolokhov. "None but fools trust to luck in play," Dolokhov had then\ +said.\ +\ +"Or are you afraid to play with me?" Dolokhov now asked as if guessing\ +Rostov's thought.\ +\ +Beneath his smile Rostov saw in him the mood he had shown at the club\ +dinner and at other times, when as if tired of everyday life he had felt\ +a need to escape from it by some strange, and usually cruel, action.\ +\ +Rostov felt ill at ease. He tried, but failed, to find some joke with\ +which to reply to Dolokhov's words. But before he had thought of\ +anything, Dolokhov, looking straight in his face, said slowly and\ +deliberately so that everyone could hear:\ +\ +"Do you remember we had a talk about cards... 'He's a fool who trusts to\ +luck, one should make certain,' and I want to try."\ +\ +"To try his luck or the certainty?" Rostov asked himself.\ +\ +"Well, you'd better not play," Dolokhov added, and springing a new pack\ +of cards said: "Bank, gentlemen!"\ +\ +Moving the money forward he prepared to deal. Rostov sat down by his\ +side and at first did not play. Dolokhov kept glancing at him.\ +\ +"Why don't you play?" he asked.\ +\ +And strange to say Nicholas felt that he could not help taking up a\ +card, putting a small stake on it, and beginning to play.\ +\ +"I have no money with me," he said.\ +\ +"I'll trust you."\ +\ +Rostov staked five rubles on a card and lost, staked again, and again\ +lost. Dolokhov "killed," that is, beat, ten cards of Rostov's running.\ +\ +"Gentlemen," said Dolokhov after he had dealt for some time. "Please\ +place your money on the cards or I may get muddled in the reckoning."\ +\ +One of the players said he hoped he might be trusted.\ +\ +"Yes, you might, but I am afraid of getting the accounts mixed. So I ask\ +you to put the money on your cards," replied Dolokhov. "Don't stint\ +yourself, we'll settle afterwards," he added, turning to Rostov.\ +\ +The game continued; a waiter kept handing round champagne.\ +\ +All Rostov's cards were beaten and he had eight hundred rubles scored up\ +against him. He wrote "800 rubles" on a card, but while the waiter\ +filled his glass he changed his mind and altered it to his usual stake\ +of twenty rubles.\ +\ +"Leave it," said Dolokhov, though he did not seem to be even looking at\ +Rostov, "you'll win it back all the sooner. I lose to the others but win\ +from you. Or are you afraid of me?" he asked again.\ +\ +Rostov submitted. He let the eight hundred remain and laid down a seven\ +of hearts with a torn corner, which he had picked up from the floor. He\ +well remembered that seven afterwards. He laid down the seven of hearts,\ +on which with a broken bit of chalk he had written "800 rubles" in clear\ +upright figures; he emptied the glass of warm champagne that was handed\ +him, smiled at Dolokhov's words, and with a sinking heart, waiting for a\ +seven to turn up, gazed at Dolokhov's hands which held the pack. Much\ +depended on Rostov's winning or losing on that seven of hearts. On the\ +previous Sunday the old count had given his son two thousand rubles, and\ +though he always disliked speaking of money difficulties had told\ +Nicholas that this was all he could let him have till May, and asked him\ +to be more economical this time. Nicholas had replied that it would be\ +more than enough for him and that he gave his word of honor not to take\ +anything more till the spring. Now only twelve hundred rubles was left\ +of that money, so that this seven of hearts meant for him not only the\ +loss of sixteen hundred rubles, but the necessity of going back on his\ +word. With a sinking heart he watched Dolokhov's hands and thought, "Now\ +then, make haste and let me have this card and I'll take my cap and\ +drive home to supper with Denisov, Natasha, and Sonya, and will\ +certainly never touch a card again." At that moment his home life, jokes\ +with Petya, talks with Sonya, duets with Natasha, piquet with his\ +father, and even his comfortable bed in the house on the Povarskaya rose\ +before him with such vividness, clearness, and charm that it seemed as\ +if it were all a lost and unappreciated bliss, long past. He could not\ +conceive that a stupid chance, letting the seven be dealt to the right\ +rather than to the left, might deprive him of all this happiness, newly\ +appreciated and newly illumined, and plunge him into the depths of\ +unknown and undefined misery. That could not be, yet he awaited with a\ +sinking heart the movement of Dolokhov's hands. Those broad, reddish\ +hands, with hairy wrists visible from under the shirt cuffs, laid down\ +the pack and took up a glass and a pipe that were handed him.\ +\ +"So you are not afraid to play with me?" repeated Dolokhov, and as if\ +about to tell a good story he put down the cards, leaned back in his\ +chair, and began deliberately with a smile:\ +\ +"Yes, gentlemen, I've been told there's a rumor going about Moscow that\ +I'm a sharper, so I advise you to be careful."\ +\ +"Come now, deal!" exclaimed Rostov.\ +\ +"Oh, those Moscow gossips!" said Dolokhov, and he took up the cards with\ +a smile.\ +\ +"Aah!" Rostov almost screamed lifting both hands to his head. The seven\ +he needed was lying uppermost, the first card in the pack. He had lost\ +more than he could pay.\ +\ +"Still, don't ruin yourself!" said Dolokhov with a side glance at Rostov\ +as he continued to deal.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XIV\ +\ +An hour and a half later most of the players were but little interested\ +in their own play.\ +\ +The whole interest was concentrated on Rostov. Instead of sixteen\ +hundred rubles he had a long column of figures scored against him, which\ +he had reckoned up to ten thousand, but that now, as he vaguely\ +supposed, must have risen to fifteen thousand. In reality it already\ +exceeded twenty thousand rubles. Dolokhov was no longer listening to\ +stories or telling them, but followed every movement of Rostov's hands\ +and occasionally ran his eyes over the score against him. He had decided\ +to play until that score reached forty-three thousand. He had fixed on\ +that number because forty-three was the sum of his and Sonya's joint\ +ages. Rostov, leaning his head on both hands, sat at the table which was\ +scrawled over with figures, wet with spilled wine, and littered with\ +cards. One tormenting impression did not leave him: that those broad-\ +boned reddish hands with hairy wrists visible from under the shirt\ +sleeves, those hands which he loved and hated, held him in their power.\ +\ +"Six hundred rubles, ace, a corner, a nine... winning it back's\ +impossible... Oh, how pleasant it was at home!... The knave, double or\ +quits... it can't be!... And why is he doing this to me?" Rostov\ +pondered. Sometimes he staked a large sum, but Dolokhov refused to\ +accept it and fixed the stake himself. Nicholas submitted to him, and at\ +one moment prayed to God as he had done on the battlefield at the bridge\ +over the Enns, and then guessed that the card that came first to hand\ +from the crumpled heap under the table would save him, now counted the\ +cords on his coat and took a card with that number and tried staking the\ +total of his losses on it, then he looked round for aid from the other\ +players, or peered at the now cold face of Dolokhov and tried to read\ +what was passing in his mind.\ +\ +"He knows of course what this loss means to me. He can't want my ruin.\ +Wasn't he my friend? Wasn't I fond of him? But it's not his fault.\ +What's he to do if he has such luck?... And it's not my fault either,"\ +he thought to himself, "I have done nothing wrong. Have I killed anyone,\ +or insulted or wished harm to anyone? Why such a terrible misfortune?\ +And when did it begin? Such a little while ago I came to this table with\ +the thought of winning a hundred rubles to buy that casket for Mamma's\ +name day and then going home. I was so happy, so free, so lighthearted!\ +And I did not realize how happy I was! When did that end and when did\ +this new, terrible state of things begin? What marked the change? I sat\ +all the time in this same place at this table, chose and placed cards,\ +and watched those broad-boned agile hands in the same way. When did it\ +happen and what has happened? I am well and strong and still the same\ +and in the same place. No, it can't be! Surely it will all end in\ +nothing!"\ +\ +He was flushed and bathed in perspiration, though the room was not hot.\ +His face was terrible and piteous to see, especially from its helpless\ +efforts to seem calm.\ +\ +The score against him reached the fateful sum of forty-three thousand.\ +Rostov had just prepared a card, by bending the corner of which he meant\ +to double the three thousand just put down to his score, when Dolokhov,\ +slamming down the pack of cards, put it aside and began rapidly adding\ +up the total of Rostov's debt, breaking the chalk as he marked the\ +figures in his clear, bold hand.\ +\ +"Supper, it's time for supper! And here are the gypsies!"\ +\ +Some swarthy men and women were really entering from the cold outside\ +and saying something in their gypsy accents. Nicholas understood that it\ +was all over; but he said in an indifferent tone:\ +\ +"Well, won't you go on? I had a splendid card all ready," as if it were\ +the fun of the game which interested him most.\ +\ +"It's all up! I'm lost!" thought he. "Now a bullet through my brain--\ +that's all that's left me!" And at the same time he said in a cheerful\ +voice:\ +\ +"Come now, just this one more little card!"\ +\ +"All right!" said Dolokhov, having finished the addition. "All right!\ +Twenty-one rubles," he said, pointing to the figure twenty-one by which\ +the total exceeded the round sum of forty-three thousand; and taking up\ +a pack he prepared to deal. Rostov submissively unbent the corner of his\ +card and, instead of the six thousand he had intended, carefully wrote\ +twenty-one.\ +\ +"It's all the same to me," he said. "I only want to see whether you will\ +let me win this ten, or beat it."\ +\ +Dolokhov began to deal seriously. Oh, how Rostov detested at that moment\ +those hands with their short reddish fingers and hairy wrists, which\ +held him in their power.... The ten fell to him.\ +\ +"You owe forty-three thousand, Count," said Dolokhov, and stretching\ +himself he rose from the table. "One does get tired sitting so long," he\ +added.\ +\ +"Yes, I'm tired too," said Rostov.\ +\ +Dolokhov cut him short, as if to remind him that it was not for him to\ +jest.\ +\ +"When am I to receive the money, Count?"\ +\ +Rostov, flushing, drew Dolokhov into the next room.\ +\ +"I cannot pay it all immediately. Will you take an I.O.U.?" he said.\ +\ +"I say, Rostov," said Dolokhov clearly, smiling and looking Nicholas\ +straight in the eyes, "you know the saying, 'Lucky in love, unlucky at\ +cards.' Your cousin is in love with you, I know."\ +\ +"Oh, it's terrible to feel oneself so in this man's power," thought\ +Rostov. He knew what a shock he would inflict on his father and mother\ +by the news of this loss, he knew what a relief it would be to escape it\ +all, and felt that Dolokhov knew that he could save him from all this\ +shame and sorrow, but wanted now to play with him as a cat does with a\ +mouse.\ +\ +"Your cousin..." Dolokhov started to say, but Nicholas interrupted him.\ +\ +"My cousin has nothing to do with this and it's not necessary to mention\ +her!" he exclaimed fiercely.\ +\ +"Then when am I to have it?"\ +\ +"Tomorrow," replied Rostov and left the room.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XV\ +\ +To say "tomorrow" and keep up a dignified tone was not difficult, but to\ +go home alone, see his sisters, brother, mother, and father, confess and\ +ask for money he had no right to after giving his word of honor, was\ +terrible.\ +\ +At home, they had not yet gone to bed. The young people, after returning\ +from the theater, had had supper and were grouped round the clavichord.\ +As soon as Nicholas entered, he was enfolded in that poetic atmosphere\ +of love which pervaded the Rostov household that winter and, now after\ +Dolokhov's proposal and Iogel's ball, seemed to have grown thicker round\ +Sonya and Natasha as the air does before a thunderstorm. Sonya and\ +Natasha, in the light-blue dresses they had worn at the theater, looking\ +pretty and conscious of it, were standing by the clavichord, happy and\ +smiling. Vera was playing chess with Shinshin in the drawing room. The\ +old countess, waiting for the return of her husband and son, sat playing\ +patience with the old gentlewoman who lived in their house. Denisov,\ +with sparkling eyes and ruffled hair, sat at the clavichord striking\ +chords with his short fingers, his legs thrown back and his eyes rolling\ +as he sang, with his small, husky, but true voice, some verses called\ +"Enchantress," which he had composed, and to which he was trying to fit\ +music:\ +\ +\ +Enchantress, say, to my forsaken lyre What magic power is this recalls\ +me still? What spark has set my inmost soul on fire, What is this bliss\ +that makes my fingers thrill?\ +\ +He was singing in passionate tones, gazing with his sparkling black-\ +agate eyes at the frightened and happy Natasha.\ +\ +"Splendid! Excellent!" exclaimed Natasha. "Another verse," she said,\ +without noticing Nicholas.\ +\ +"Everything's still the same with them," thought Nicholas, glancing into\ +the drawing room, where he saw Vera and his mother with the old lady.\ +\ +"Ah, and here's Nicholas!" cried Natasha, running up to him.\ +\ +"Is Papa at home?" he asked.\ +\ +"I am so glad you've come!" said Natasha, without answering him. "We are\ +enjoying ourselves! Vasili Dmitrich is staying a day longer for my sake!\ +Did you know?"\ +\ +"No, Papa is not back yet," said Sonya.\ +\ +"Nicholas, have you come? Come here, dear!" called the old countess from\ +the drawing room.\ +\ +Nicholas went to her, kissed her hand, and sitting down silently at her\ +table began to watch her hands arranging the cards. From the dancing\ +room, they still heard the laughter and merry voices trying to persuade\ +Natasha to sing.\ +\ +"All wight! All wight!" shouted Denisov. "It's no good making excuses\ +now! It's your turn to sing the ba'cawolla--I entweat you!"\ +\ +The countess glanced at her silent son.\ +\ +"What is the matter?" she asked.\ +\ +"Oh, nothing," said he, as if weary of being continually asked the same\ +question. "Will Papa be back soon?"\ +\ +"I expect so."\ +\ +"Everything's the same with them. They know nothing about it! Where am I\ +to go?" thought Nicholas, and went again into the dancing room where the\ +clavichord stood.\ +\ +Sonya was sitting at the clavichord, playing the prelude to Denisov's\ +favorite barcarolle. Natasha was preparing to sing. Denisov was looking\ +at her with enraptured eyes.\ +\ +Nicholas began pacing up and down the room.\ +\ +"Why do they want to make her sing? How can she sing? There's nothing to\ +be happy about!" thought he.\ +\ +Sonya struck the first chord of the prelude.\ +\ +"My God, I'm a ruined and dishonored man! A bullet through my brain is\ +the only thing left me--not singing!" his thoughts ran on. "Go away? But\ +where to? It's one--let them sing!"\ +\ +He continued to pace the room, looking gloomily at Denisov and the girls\ +and avoiding their eyes.\ +\ +"Nikolenka, what is the matter?" Sonya's eyes fixed on him seemed to\ +ask. She noticed at once that something had happened to him.\ +\ +Nicholas turned away from her. Natasha too, with her quick instinct, had\ +instantly noticed her brother's condition. But, though she noticed it,\ +she was herself in such high spirits at that moment, so far from sorrow,\ +sadness, or self-reproach, that she purposely deceived herself as young\ +people often do. "No, I am too happy now to spoil my enjoyment by\ +sympathy with anyone's sorrow," she felt, and she said to herself: "No,\ +I must be mistaken, he must be feeling happy, just as I am."\ +\ +"Now, Sonya!" she said, going to the very middle of the room, where she\ +considered the resonance was best.\ +\ +Having lifted her head and let her arms droop lifelessly, as ballet\ +dancers do, Natasha, rising energetically from her heels to her toes,\ +stepped to the middle of the room and stood still.\ +\ +"Yes, that's me!" she seemed to say, answering the rapt gaze with which\ +Denisov followed her.\ +\ +"And what is she so pleased about?" thought Nicholas, looking at his\ +sister. "Why isn't she dull and ashamed?"\ +\ +Natasha took the first note, her throat swelled, her chest rose, her\ +eyes became serious. At that moment she was oblivious of her\ +surroundings, and from her smiling lips flowed sounds which anyone may\ +produce at the same intervals and hold for the same time, but which\ +leave you cold a thousand times and the thousand and first time thrill\ +you and make you weep.\ +\ +Natasha, that winter, had for the first time begun to sing seriously,\ +mainly because Denisov so delighted in her singing. She no longer sang\ +as a child, there was no longer in her singing that comical, childish,\ +painstaking effect that had been in it before; but she did not yet sing\ +well, as all the connoisseurs who heard her said: "It is not trained,\ +but it is a beautiful voice that must be trained." Only they generally\ +said this some time after she had finished singing. While that untrained\ +voice, with its incorrect breathing and labored transitions, was\ +sounding, even the connoisseurs said nothing, but only delighted in it\ +and wished to hear it again. In her voice there was a virginal\ +freshness, an unconsciousness of her own powers, and an as yet untrained\ +velvety softness, which so mingled with her lack of art in singing that\ +it seemed as if nothing in that voice could be altered without spoiling\ +it.\ +\ +"What is this?" thought Nicholas, listening to her with widely opened\ +eyes. "What has happened to her? How she is singing today!" And suddenly\ +the whole world centered for him on anticipation of the next note, the\ +next phrase, and everything in the world was divided into three beats:\ +"Oh mio crudele affetto."... One, two, three... one, two, three...\ +One... "Oh mio crudele affetto."... One, two, three... One. "Oh, this\ +senseless life of ours!" thought Nicholas. "All this misery, and money,\ +and Dolokhov, and anger, and honor--it's all nonsense... but this is\ +real.... Now then, Natasha, now then, dearest! Now then, darling! How\ +will she take that si? She's taken it! Thank God!" And without noticing\ +that he was singing, to strengthen the si he sung a second, a third\ +below the high note. "Ah, God! How fine! Did I really take it? How\ +fortunate!" he thought.\ +\ +Oh, how that chord vibrated, and how moved was something that was finest\ +in Rostov's soul! And this something was apart from everything else in\ +the world and above everything in the world. "What were losses, and\ +Dolokhov, and words of honor?... All nonsense! One might kill and rob\ +and yet be happy..."\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XVI\ +\ +It was long since Rostov had felt such enjoyment from music as he did\ +that day. But no sooner had Natasha finished her barcarolle than reality\ +again presented itself. He got up without saying a word and went\ +downstairs to his own room. A quarter of an hour later the old count\ +came in from his club, cheerful and contented. Nicholas, hearing him\ +drive up, went to meet him.\ +\ +"Well--had a good time?" said the old count, smiling gaily and proudly\ +at his son.\ +\ +Nicholas tried to say "Yes," but could not: and he nearly burst into\ +sobs. The count was lighting his pipe and did not notice his son's\ +condition.\ +\ +"Ah, it can't be avoided!" thought Nicholas, for the first and last\ +time. And suddenly, in the most casual tone, which made him feel ashamed\ +of himself, he said, as if merely asking his father to let him have the\ +carriage to drive to town:\ +\ +"Papa, I have come on a matter of business. I was nearly forgetting. I\ +need some money."\ +\ +"Dear me!" said his father, who was in a specially good humor. "I told\ +you it would not be enough. How much?"\ +\ +"Very much," said Nicholas flushing, and with a stupid careless smile,\ +for which he was long unable to forgive himself, "I have lost a little,\ +I mean a good deal, a great deal--forty three thousand."\ +\ +"What! To whom?... Nonsense!" cried the count, suddenly reddening with\ +an apoplectic flush over neck and nape as old people do.\ +\ +"I promised to pay tomorrow," said Nicholas.\ +\ +"Well!..." said the old count, spreading out his arms and sinking\ +helplessly on the sofa.\ +\ +"It can't be helped It happens to everyone!" said the son, with a bold,\ +free, and easy tone, while in his soul he regarded himself as a\ +worthless scoundrel whose whole life could not atone for his crime. He\ +longed to kiss his father's hands and kneel to beg his forgiveness, but\ +said, in a careless and even rude voice, that it happens to everyone!\ +\ +The old count cast down his eyes on hearing his son's words and began\ +bustlingly searching for something.\ +\ +"Yes, yes," he muttered, "it will be difficult, I fear, difficult to\ +raise... happens to everybody! Yes, who has not done it?"\ +\ +And with a furtive glance at his son's face, the count went out of the\ +room.... Nicholas had been prepared for resistance, but had not at all\ +expected this.\ +\ +"Papa! Pa-pa!" he called after him, sobbing, "forgive me!" And seizing\ +his father's hand, he pressed it to his lips and burst into tears.\ +\ +While father and son were having their explanation, the mother and\ +daughter were having one not less important. Natasha came running to her\ +mother, quite excited.\ +\ +"Mamma!... Mamma!... He has made me..."\ +\ +"Made what?"\ +\ +"Made, made me an offer, Mamma! Mamma!" she exclaimed.\ +\ +The countess did not believe her ears. Denisov had proposed. To whom? To\ +this chit of a girl, Natasha, who not so long ago was playing with dolls\ +and who was still having lessons.\ +\ +"Don't, Natasha! What nonsense!" she said, hoping it was a joke.\ +\ +"Nonsense, indeed! I am telling you the fact," said Natasha indignantly.\ +"I come to ask you what to do, and you call it 'nonsense!'"\ +\ +The countess shrugged her shoulders.\ +\ +"If it is true that Monsieur Denisov has made you a proposal, tell him\ +he is a fool, that's all!"\ +\ +"No, he's not a fool!" replied Natasha indignantly and seriously.\ +\ +"Well then, what do you want? You're all in love nowadays. Well, if you\ +are in love, marry him!" said the countess, with a laugh of annoyance.\ +"Good luck to you!"\ +\ +"No, Mamma, I'm not in love with him, I suppose I'm not in love with\ +him."\ +\ +"Well then, tell him so."\ +\ +"Mamma, are you cross? Don't be cross, dear! Is it my fault?"\ +\ +"No, but what is it, my dear? Do you want me to go and tell him?" said\ +the countess smiling.\ +\ +"No, I will do it myself, only tell me what to say. It's all very well\ +for you," said Natasha, with a responsive smile. "You should have seen\ +how he said it! I know he did not mean to say it, but it came out\ +accidently."\ +\ +"Well, all the same, you must refuse him."\ +\ +"No, I mustn't. I am so sorry for him! He's so nice."\ +\ +"Well then, accept his offer. It's high time for you to be married,"\ +answered the countess sharply and sarcastically.\ +\ +"No, Mamma, but I'm so sorry for him. I don't know how I'm to say it."\ +\ +"And there's nothing for you to say. I shall speak to him myself," said\ +the countess, indignant that they should have dared to treat this little\ +Natasha as grown up.\ +\ +"No, not on any account! I will tell him myself, and you'll listen at\ +the door," and Natasha ran across the drawing room to the dancing hall,\ +where Denisov was sitting on the same chair by the clavichord with his\ +face in his hands.\ +\ +He jumped up at the sound of her light step.\ +\ +"Nataly," he said, moving with rapid steps toward her, "decide my fate.\ +It is in your hands."\ +\ +"Vasili Dmitrich, I'm so sorry for you!... No, but you are so nice...\ +but it won't do...not that... but as a friend, I shall always love you."\ +\ +Denisov bent over her hand and she heard strange sounds she did not\ +understand. She kissed his rough curly black head. At this instant, they\ +heard the quick rustle of the countess' dress. She came up to them.\ +\ +"Vasili Dmitrich, I thank you for the honor," she said, with an\ +embarrassed voice, though it sounded severe to Denisov--"but my daughter\ +is so young, and I thought that, as my son's friend, you would have\ +addressed yourself first to me. In that case you would not have obliged\ +me to give this refusal."\ +\ +"Countess..." said Denisov, with downcast eyes and a guilty face. He\ +tried to say more, but faltered.\ +\ +Natasha could not remain calm, seeing him in such a plight. She began to\ +sob aloud.\ +\ +"Countess, I have done w'ong," Denisov went on in an unsteady voice,\ +"but believe me, I so adore your daughter and all your family that I\ +would give my life twice over..." He looked at the countess, and seeing\ +her severe face said: "Well, good-by, Countess," and kissing her hand,\ +he left the room with quick resolute strides, without looking at\ +Natasha.\ +\ +Next day Rostov saw Denisov off. He did not wish to stay another day in\ +Moscow. All Denisov's Moscow friends gave him a farewell entertainment\ +at the gypsies', with the result that he had no recollection of how he\ +was put in the sleigh or of the first three stages of his journey.\ +\ +After Denisov's departure, Rostov spent another fortnight in Moscow,\ +without going out of the house, waiting for the money his father could\ +not at once raise, and he spent most of his time in the girls' room.\ +\ +Sonya was more tender and devoted to him than ever. It was as if she\ +wanted to show him that his losses were an achievement that made her\ +love him all the more, but Nicholas now considered himself unworthy of\ +her.\ +\ +He filled the girls' albums with verses and music, and having at last\ +sent Dolokhov the whole forty-three thousand rubles and received his\ +receipt, he left at the end of November, without taking leave of any of\ +his acquaintances, to overtake his regiment which was already in Poland.\ +\ +BOOK FIVE: 1806 - 07\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER I\ +\ +After his interview with his wife Pierre left for Petersburg. At the\ +Torzhok post station, either there were no horses or the postmaster\ +would not supply them. Pierre was obliged to wait. Without undressing,\ +he lay down on the leather sofa in front of a round table, put his big\ +feet in their overboots on the table, and began to reflect.\ +\ +"Will you have the portmanteaus brought in? And a bed got ready, and\ +tea?" asked his valet.\ +\ +Pierre gave no answer, for he neither heard nor saw anything. He had\ +begun to think of the last station and was still pondering on the same\ +question--one so important that he took no notice of what went on around\ +him. Not only was he indifferent as to whether he got to Petersburg\ +earlier or later, or whether he secured accommodation at this station,\ +but compared to the thoughts that now occupied him it was a matter of\ +indifference whether he remained there for a few hours or for the rest\ +of his life.\ +\ +The postmaster, his wife, the valet, and a peasant woman selling Torzhok\ +embroidery came into the room offering their services. Without changing\ +his careless attitude, Pierre looked at them over his spectacles unable\ +to understand what they wanted or how they could go on living without\ +having solved the problems that so absorbed him. He had been engrossed\ +by the same thoughts ever since the day he returned from Sokolniki after\ +the duel and had spent that first agonizing, sleepless night. But now,\ +in the solitude of the journey, they seized him with special force. No\ +matter what he thought about, he always returned to these same questions\ +which he could not solve and yet could not cease to ask himself. It was\ +as if the thread of the chief screw which held his life together were\ +stripped, so that the screw could not get in or out, but went on turning\ +uselessly in the same place.\ +\ +The postmaster came in and began obsequiously to beg his excellency to\ +wait only two hours, when, come what might, he would let his excellency\ +have the courier horses. It was plain that he was lying and only wanted\ +to get more money from the traveler.\ +\ +"Is this good or bad?" Pierre asked himself. "It is good for me, bad for\ +another traveler, and for himself it's unavoidable, because he needs\ +money for food; the man said an officer had once given him a thrashing\ +for letting a private traveler have the courier horses. But the officer\ +thrashed him because he had to get on as quickly as possible. And I,"\ +continued Pierre, "shot Dolokhov because I considered myself injured,\ +and Louis XVI was executed because they considered him a criminal, and a\ +year later they executed those who executed him--also for some reason.\ +What is bad? What is good? What should one love and what hate? What does\ +one live for? And what am I? What is life, and what is death? What power\ +governs all?"\ +\ +There was no answer to any of these questions, except one, and that not\ +a logical answer and not at all a reply to them. The answer was: "You'll\ +die and all will end. You'll die and know all, or cease asking." But\ +dying was also dreadful.\ +\ +The Torzhok peddler woman, in a whining voice, went on offering her\ +wares, especially a pair of goatskin slippers. "I have hundreds of\ +rubles I don't know what to do with, and she stands in her tattered\ +cloak looking timidly at me," he thought. "And what does she want the\ +money for? As if that money could add a hair's breadth to happiness or\ +peace of mind. Can anything in the world make her or me less a prey to\ +evil and death?--death which ends all and must come today or tomorrow--\ +at any rate, in an instant as compared with eternity." And again he\ +twisted the screw with the stripped thread, and again it turned\ +uselessly in the same place.\ +\ +His servant handed him a half-cut novel, in the form of letters, by\ +Madame de Souza. He began reading about the sufferings and virtuous\ +struggles of a certain Emilie de Mansfeld. "And why did she resist her\ +seducer when she loved him?" he thought. "God could not have put into\ +her heart an impulse that was against His will. My wife--as she once\ +was--did not struggle, and perhaps she was right. Nothing has been found\ +out, nothing discovered," Pierre again said to himself. "All we can know\ +is that we know nothing. And that's the height of human wisdom."\ +\ +Everything within and around him seemed confused, senseless, and\ +repellent. Yet in this very repugnance to all his circumstances Pierre\ +found a kind of tantalizing satisfaction.\ +\ +"I make bold to ask your excellency to move a little for this\ +gentleman," said the postmaster, entering the room followed by another\ +traveler, also detained for lack of horses.\ +\ +The newcomer was a short, large-boned, yellow-faced, wrinkled old man,\ +with gray bushy eyebrows overhanging bright eyes of an indefinite\ +grayish color.\ +\ +Pierre took his feet off the table, stood up, and lay down on a bed that\ +had been got ready for him, glancing now and then at the newcomer, who,\ +with a gloomy and tired face, was wearily taking off his wraps with the\ +aid of his servant, and not looking at Pierre. With a pair of felt boots\ +on his thin bony legs, and keeping on a worn, nankeen-covered, sheepskin\ +coat, the traveler sat down on the sofa, leaned back his big head with\ +its broad temples and close-cropped hair, and looked at Bezukhov. The\ +stern, shrewd, and penetrating expression of that look struck Pierre. He\ +felt a wish to speak to the stranger, but by the time he had made up his\ +mind to ask him a question about the roads, the traveler had closed his\ +eyes. His shriveled old hands were folded and on the finger of one of\ +them Pierre noticed a large cast iron ring with a seal representing a\ +death's head. The stranger sat without stirring, either resting or, as\ +it seemed to Pierre, sunk in profound and calm meditation. His servant\ +was also a yellow, wrinkled old man, without beard or mustache,\ +evidently not because he was shaven but because they had never grown.\ +This active old servant was unpacking the traveler's canteen and\ +preparing tea. He brought in a boiling samovar. When everything was\ +ready, the stranger opened his eyes, moved to the table, filled a\ +tumbler with tea for himself and one for the beardless old man to whom\ +he passed it. Pierre began to feel a sense of uneasiness, and the need,\ +even the inevitability, of entering into conversation with this\ +stranger.\ +\ +The servant brought back his tumbler turned upside down, * with an\ +unfinished bit of nibbled sugar, and asked if anything more would be\ +wanted.\ +\ +\ +* To indicate he did not want more tea.\ +\ +"No. Give me the book," said the stranger.\ +\ +The servant handed him a book which Pierre took to be a devotional work,\ +and the traveler became absorbed in it. Pierre looked at him. All at\ +once the stranger closed the book, putting in a marker, and again,\ +leaning with his arms on the back of the sofa, sat in his former\ +position with his eyes shut. Pierre looked at him and had not time to\ +turn away when the old man, opening his eyes, fixed his steady and\ +severe gaze straight on Pierre's face.\ +\ +Pierre felt confused and wished to avoid that look, but the bright old\ +eyes attracted him irresistibly.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER II\ +\ +"I have the pleasure of addressing Count Bezukhov, if I am not\ +mistaken," said the stranger in a deliberate and loud voice.\ +\ +Pierre looked silently and inquiringly at him over his spectacles.\ +\ +"I have heard of you, my dear sir," continued the stranger, "and of your\ +misfortune." He seemed to emphasize the last word, as if to say--"Yes,\ +misfortune! Call it what you please, I know that what happened to you in\ +Moscow was a misfortune."--"I regret it very much, my dear sir."\ +\ +Pierre flushed and, hurriedly putting his legs down from the bed, bent\ +forward toward the old man with a forced and timid smile.\ +\ +"I have not referred to this out of curiosity, my dear sir, but for\ +greater reasons."\ +\ +He paused, his gaze still on Pierre, and moved aside on the sofa by way\ +of inviting the other to take a seat beside him. Pierre felt reluctant\ +to enter into conversation with this old man, but, submitting to him\ +involuntarily, came up and sat down beside him.\ +\ +"You are unhappy, my dear sir," the stranger continued. "You are young\ +and I am old. I should like to help you as far as lies in my power."\ +\ +"Oh, yes!" said Pierre, with a forced smile. "I am very grateful to you.\ +Where are you traveling from?"\ +\ +The stranger's face was not genial, it was even cold and severe, but in\ +spite of this, both the face and words of his new acquaintance were\ +irresistibly attractive to Pierre.\ +\ +"But if for reason you don't feel inclined to talk to me," said the old\ +man, "say so, my dear sir." And he suddenly smiled, in an unexpected and\ +tenderly paternal way.\ +\ +"Oh no, not at all! On the contrary, I am very glad to make your\ +acquaintance," said Pierre. And again, glancing at the stranger's hands,\ +he looked more closely at the ring, with its skull--a masonic sign.\ +\ +"Allow me to ask," he said, "are you a Mason?"\ +\ +"Yes, I belong to the Brotherhood of the Freemasons," said the stranger,\ +looking deeper and deeper into Pierre's eyes. "And in their name and my\ +own I hold out a brotherly hand to you."\ +\ +"I am afraid," said Pierre, smiling, and wavering between the confidence\ +the personality of the Freemason inspired in him and his own habit of\ +ridiculing the masonic beliefs--"I am afraid I am very far from\ +understanding--how am I to put it?--I am afraid my way of looking at the\ +world is so opposed to yours that we shall not understand one another."\ +\ +"I know your outlook," said the Mason, "and the view of life you\ +mention, and which you think is the result of your own mental efforts,\ +is the one held by the majority of people, and is the invariable fruit\ +of pride, indolence, and ignorance. Forgive me, my dear sir, but if I\ +had not known it I should not have addressed you. Your view of life is a\ +regrettable delusion."\ +\ +"Just as I may suppose you to be deluded," said Pierre, with a faint\ +smile.\ +\ +"I should never dare to say that I know the truth," said the Mason,\ +whose words struck Pierre more and more by their precision and firmness.\ +"No one can attain to truth by himself. Only by laying stone on stone\ +with the cooperation of all, by the millions of generations from our\ +forefather Adam to our own times, is that temple reared which is to be a\ +worthy dwelling place of the Great God," he added, and closed his eyes.\ +\ +"I ought to tell you that I do not believe... do not believe in God,"\ +said Pierre, regretfully and with an effort, feeling it essential to\ +speak the whole truth.\ +\ +The Mason looked intently at Pierre and smiled as a rich man with\ +millions in hand might smile at a poor fellow who told him that he, poor\ +man, had not the five rubles that would make him happy.\ +\ +"Yes, you do not know Him, my dear sir," said the Mason. "You cannot\ +know Him. You do not know Him and that is why you are unhappy."\ +\ +"Yes, yes, I am unhappy," assented Pierre. "But what am I to do?"\ +\ +"You know Him not, my dear sir, and so you are very unhappy. You do not\ +know Him, but He is here, He is in me, He is in my words, He is in thee,\ +and even in those blasphemous words thou hast just uttered!" pronounced\ +the Mason in a stern and tremulous voice.\ +\ +He paused and sighed, evidently trying to calm himself.\ +\ +"If He were not," he said quietly, "you and I would not be speaking of\ +Him, my dear sir. Of what, of whom, are we speaking? Whom hast thou\ +denied?" he suddenly asked with exulting austerity and authority in his\ +voice. "Who invented Him, if He did not exist? Whence came thy\ +conception of the existence of such an incomprehensible Being? didst\ +thou, and why did the whole world, conceive the idea of the existence of\ +such an incomprehensible Being, a Being all-powerful, eternal, and\ +infinite in all His attributes?..."\ +\ +He stopped and remained silent for a long time.\ +\ +Pierre could not and did not wish to break this silence.\ +\ +"He exists, but to understand Him is hard," the Mason began again,\ +looking not at Pierre but straight before him, and turning the leaves of\ +his book with his old hands which from excitement he could not keep\ +still. "If it were a man whose existence thou didst doubt I could bring\ +him to thee, could take him by the hand and show him to thee. But how\ +can I, an insignificant mortal, show His omnipotence, His infinity, and\ +all His mercy to one who is blind, or who shuts his eyes that he may not\ +see or understand Him and may not see or understand his own vileness and\ +sinfulness?" He paused again. "Who art thou? Thou dreamest that thou art\ +wise because thou couldst utter those blasphemous words," he went on,\ +with a somber and scornful smile. "And thou art more foolish and\ +unreasonable than a little child, who, playing with the parts of a\ +skillfully made watch, dares to say that, as he does not understand its\ +use, he does not believe in the master who made it. To know Him is\ +hard.... For ages, from our forefather Adam to our own day, we labor to\ +attain that knowledge and are still infinitely far from our aim; but in\ +our lack of understanding we see only our weakness and His\ +greatness...."\ +\ +Pierre listened with swelling heart, gazing into the Mason's face with\ +shining eyes, not interrupting or questioning him, but believing with\ +his whole soul what the stranger said. Whether he accepted the wise\ +reasoning contained in the Mason's words, or believed as a child\ +believes, in the speaker's tone of conviction and earnestness, or the\ +tremor of the speaker's voice--which sometimes almost broke--or those\ +brilliant aged eyes grown old in this conviction, or the calm firmness\ +and certainty of his vocation, which radiated from his whole being (and\ +which struck Pierre especially by contrast with his own dejection and\ +hopelessness)--at any rate, Pierre longed with his whole soul to believe\ +and he did believe, and felt a joyful sense of comfort, regeneration,\ +and return to life.\ +\ +"He is not to be apprehended by reason, but by life," said the Mason.\ +\ +"I do not understand," said Pierre, feeling with dismay doubts\ +reawakening. He was afraid of any want of clearness, any weakness, in\ +the Mason's arguments; he dreaded not to be able to believe in him. "I\ +don't understand," he said, "how it is that the mind of man cannot\ +attain the knowledge of which you speak."\ +\ +The Mason smiled with his gentle fatherly smile.\ +\ +"The highest wisdom and truth are like the purest liquid we may wish to\ +imbibe," he said. "Can I receive that pure liquid into an impure vessel\ +and judge of its purity? Only by the inner purification of myself can I\ +retain in some degree of purity the liquid I receive."\ +\ +"Yes, yes, that is so," said Pierre joyfully.\ +\ +"The highest wisdom is not founded on reason alone, not on those worldly\ +sciences of physics, history, chemistry, and the like, into which\ +intellectual knowledge is divided. The highest wisdom is one. The\ +highest wisdom has but one science--the science of the whole--the\ +science explaining the whole creation and man's place in it. To receive\ +that science it is necessary to purify and renew one's inner self, and\ +so before one can know, it is necessary to believe and to perfect one's\ +self. And to attain this end, we have the light called conscience that\ +God has implanted in our souls."\ +\ +"Yes, yes," assented Pierre.\ +\ +"Look then at thy inner self with the eyes of the spirit, and ask\ +thyself whether thou art content with thyself. What hast thou attained\ +relying on reason only? What art thou? You are young, you are rich, you\ +are clever, you are well educated. And what have you done with all these\ +good gifts? Are you content with yourself and with your life?"\ +\ +"No, I hate my life," Pierre muttered, wincing.\ +\ +"Thou hatest it. Then change it, purify thyself; and as thou art\ +purified, thou wilt gain wisdom. Look at your life, my dear sir. How\ +have you spent it? In riotous orgies and debauchery, receiving\ +everything from society and giving nothing in return. You have become\ +the possessor of wealth. How have you used it? What have you done for\ +your neighbor? Have you ever thought of your tens of thousands of\ +slaves? Have you helped them physically and morally? No! You have\ +profited by their toil to lead a profligate life. That is what you have\ +done. Have you chosen a post in which you might be of service to your\ +neighbor? No! You have spent your life in idleness. Then you married, my\ +dear sir--took on yourself responsibility for the guidance of a young\ +woman; and what have you done? You have not helped her to find the way\ +of truth, my dear sir, but have thrust her into an abyss of deceit and\ +misery. A man offended you and you shot him, and you say you do not know\ +God and hate your life. There is nothing strange in that, my dear sir!"\ +\ +After these words, the Mason, as if tired by his long discourse, again\ +leaned his arms on the back of the sofa and closed his eyes. Pierre\ +looked at that aged, stern, motionless, almost lifeless face and moved\ +his lips without uttering a sound. He wished to say, "Yes, a vile, idle,\ +vicious life!" but dared not break the silence.\ +\ +The Mason cleared his throat huskily, as old men do, and called his\ +servant.\ +\ +"How about the horses?" he asked, without looking at Pierre.\ +\ +"The exchange horses have just come," answered the servant. "Will you\ +not rest here?"\ +\ +"No, tell them to harness."\ +\ +"Can he really be going away leaving me alone without having told me\ +all, and without promising to help me?" thought Pierre, rising with\ +downcast head; and he began to pace the room, glancing occasionally at\ +the Mason. "Yes, I never thought of it, but I have led a contemptible\ +and profligate life, though I did not like it and did not want to,"\ +thought Pierre. "But this man knows the truth and, if he wished to,\ +could disclose it to me."\ +\ +Pierre wished to say this to the Mason, but did not dare to. The\ +traveler, having packed his things with his practiced hands, began\ +fastening his coat. When he had finished, he turned to Bezukhov, and\ +said in a tone of indifferent politeness:\ +\ +"Where are you going to now, my dear sir?"\ +\ +"I?... I'm going to Petersburg," answered Pierre, in a childlike,\ +hesitating voice. "I thank you. I agree with all you have said. But do\ +not suppose me to be so bad. With my whole soul I wish to be what you\ +would have me be, but I have never had help from anyone.... But it is I,\ +above all, who am to blame for everything. Help me, teach me, and\ +perhaps I may..."\ +\ +Pierre could not go on. He gulped and turned away.\ +\ +The Mason remained silent for a long time, evidently considering.\ +\ +"Help comes from God alone," he said, "but such measure of help as our\ +Order can bestow it will render you, my dear sir. You are going to\ +Petersburg. Hand this to Count Willarski" (he took out his notebook and\ +wrote a few words on a large sheet of paper folded in four). "Allow me\ +to give you a piece of advice. When you reach the capital, first of all\ +devote some time to solitude and self-examination and do not resume your\ +former way of life. And now I wish you a good journey, my dear sir," he\ +added, seeing that his servant had entered... "and success."\ +\ +The traveler was Joseph Alexeevich Bazdeev, as Pierre saw from the\ +postmaster's book. Bazdeev had been one of the best-known Freemasons and\ +Martinists, even in Novikov's time. For a long while after he had gone,\ +Pierre did not go to bed or order horses but paced up and down the room,\ +pondering over his vicious past, and with a rapturous sense of beginning\ +anew pictured to himself the blissful, irreproachable, virtuous future\ +that seemed to him so easy. It seemed to him that he had been vicious\ +only because he had somehow forgotten how good it is to be virtuous. Not\ +a trace of his former doubts remained in his soul. He firmly believed in\ +the possibility of the brotherhood of men united in the aim of\ +supporting one another in the path of virtue, and that is how\ +Freemasonry presented itself to him.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER III\ +\ +On reaching Petersburg Pierre did not let anyone know of his arrival, he\ +went nowhere and spent whole days in reading Thomas a Kempis, whose book\ +had been sent him by someone unknown. One thing he continually realized\ +as he read that book: the joy, hitherto unknown to him, of believing in\ +the possibility of attaining perfection, and in the possibility of\ +active brotherly love among men, which Joseph Alexeevich had revealed to\ +him. A week after his arrival, the young Polish count, Willarski, whom\ +Pierre had known slightly in Petersburg society, came into his room one\ +evening in the official and ceremonious manner in which Dolokhov's\ +second had called on him, and, having closed the door behind him and\ +satisfied himself that there was nobody else in the room, addressed\ +Pierre.\ +\ +"I have come to you with a message and an offer, Count," he said without\ +sitting down. "A person of very high standing in our Brotherhood has\ +made application for you to be received into our Order before the usual\ +term and has proposed to me to be your sponsor. I consider it a sacred\ +duty to fulfill that person's wishes. Do you wish to enter the\ +Brotherhood of Freemasons under my sponsorship?"\ +\ +The cold, austere tone of this man, whom he had almost always before met\ +at balls, amiably smiling in the society of the most brilliant women,\ +surprised Pierre.\ +\ +"Yes, I do wish it," said he.\ +\ +Willarski bowed his head.\ +\ +"One more question, Count," he said, "which I beg you to answer in all\ +sincerity--not as a future Mason but as an honest man: have you\ +renounced your former convictions--do you believe in God?"\ +\ +Pierre considered.\ +\ +"Yes... yes, I believe in God," he said.\ +\ +"In that case..." began Willarski, but Pierre interrupted him.\ +\ +"Yes, I do believe in God," he repeated.\ +\ +"In that case we can go," said Willarski. "My carriage is at your\ +service."\ +\ +Willarski was silent throughout the drive. To Pierre's inquiries as to\ +what he must do and how he should answer, Willarski only replied that\ +brothers more worthy than he would test him and that Pierre had only to\ +tell the truth.\ +\ +Having entered the courtyard of a large house where the Lodge had its\ +headquarters, and having ascended a dark staircase, they entered a small\ +well-lit anteroom where they took off their cloaks without the aid of a\ +servant. From there they passed into another room. A man in strange\ +attire appeared at the door. Willarski, stepping toward him, said\ +something to him in French in an undertone and then went up to a small\ +wardrobe in which Pierre noticed garments such as he had never seen\ +before. Having taken a kerchief from the cupboard, Willarski bound\ +Pierre's eyes with it and tied it in a knot behind, catching some hairs\ +painfully in the knot. Then he drew his face down, kissed him, and\ +taking him by the hand led him forward. The hairs tied in the knot hurt\ +Pierre and there were lines of pain on his face and a shamefaced smile.\ +His huge figure, with arms hanging down and with a puckered, though\ +smiling face, moved after Willarski with uncertain, timid steps.\ +\ +Having led him about ten paces, Willarski stopped.\ +\ +"Whatever happens to you," he said, "you must bear it all manfully if\ +you have firmly resolved to join our Brotherhood." (Pierre nodded\ +affirmatively.) "When you hear a knock at the door, you will uncover\ +your eyes," added Willarski. "I wish you courage and success," and,\ +pressing Pierre's hand, he went out.\ +\ +Left alone, Pierre went on smiling in the same way. Once or twice he\ +shrugged his shoulders and raised his hand to the kerchief, as if\ +wishing to take it off, but let it drop again. The five minutes spent\ +with his eyes bandaged seemed to him an hour. His arms felt numb, his\ +legs almost gave way, it seemed to him that he was tired out. He\ +experienced a variety of most complex sensations. He felt afraid of what\ +would happen to him and still more afraid of showing his fear. He felt\ +curious to know what was going to happen and what would be revealed to\ +him; but most of all, he felt joyful that the moment had come when he\ +would at last start on that path of regeneration and on the actively\ +virtuous life of which he had been dreaming since he met Joseph\ +Alexeevich. Loud knocks were heard at the door. Pierre took the bandage\ +off his eyes and glanced around him. The room was in black darkness,\ +only a small lamp was burning inside something white. Pierre went nearer\ +and saw that the lamp stood on a black table on which lay an open book.\ +The book was the Gospel, and the white thing with the lamp inside was a\ +human skull with its cavities and teeth. After reading the first words\ +of the Gospel: "In the beginning was the Word and the Word was with\ +God," Pierre went round the table and saw a large open box filled with\ +something. It was a coffin with bones inside. He was not at all\ +surprised by what he saw. Hoping to enter on an entirely new life quite\ +unlike the old one, he expected everything to be unusual, even more\ +unusual than what he was seeing. A skull, a coffin, the Gospel--it\ +seemed to him that he had expected all this and even more. Trying to\ +stimulate his emotions he looked around. "God, death, love, the\ +brotherhood of man," he kept saying to himself, associating these words\ +with vague yet joyful ideas. The door opened and someone came in.\ +\ +By the dim light, to which Pierre had already become accustomed, he saw\ +a rather short man. Having evidently come from the light into the\ +darkness, the man paused, then moved with cautious steps toward the\ +table and placed on it his small leather-gloved hands.\ +\ +This short man had on a white leather apron which covered his chest and\ +part of his legs; he had on a kind of necklace above which rose a high\ +white ruffle, outlining his rather long face which was lit up from\ +below.\ +\ +"For what have you come hither?" asked the newcomer, turning in Pierre's\ +direction at a slight rustle made by the latter. "Why have you, who do\ +not believe in the truth of the light and who have not seen the light,\ +come here? What do you seek from us? Wisdom, virtue, enlightenment?"\ +\ +At the moment the door opened and the stranger came in, Pierre felt a\ +sense of awe and veneration such as he had experienced in his boyhood at\ +confession; he felt himself in the presence of one socially a complete\ +stranger, yet nearer to him through the brotherhood of man. With bated\ +breath and beating heart he moved toward the Rhetor (by which name the\ +brother who prepared a seeker for entrance into the Brotherhood was\ +known). Drawing nearer, he recognized in the Rhetor a man he knew,\ +Smolyaninov, and it mortified him to think that the newcomer was an\ +acquaintance--he wished him simply a brother and a virtuous instructor.\ +For a long time he could not utter a word, so that the Rhetor had to\ +repeat his question.\ +\ +"Yes... I... I... desire regeneration," Pierre uttered with difficulty.\ +\ +"Very well," said Smolyaninov, and went on at once: "Have you any idea\ +of the means by which our holy Order will help you to reach your aim?"\ +said he quietly and quickly.\ +\ +"I... hope... for guidance... help... in regeneration," said Pierre,\ +with a trembling voice and some difficulty in utterance due to his\ +excitement and to being unaccustomed to speak of abstract matters in\ +Russian.\ +\ +"What is your conception of Freemasonry?"\ +\ +"I imagine that Freemasonry is the fraternity and equality of men who\ +have virtuous aims," said Pierre, feeling ashamed of the inadequacy of\ +his words for the solemnity of the moment, as he spoke. "I imagine..."\ +\ +"Good!" said the Rhetor quickly, apparently satisfied with this answer.\ +"Have you sought for means of attaining your aim in religion?"\ +\ +"No, I considered it erroneous and did not follow it," said Pierre, so\ +softly that the Rhetor did not hear him and asked him what he was\ +saying. "I have been an atheist," answered Pierre.\ +\ +"You are seeking for truth in order to follow its laws in your life,\ +therefore you seek wisdom and virtue. Is that not so?" said the Rhetor,\ +after a moment's pause.\ +\ +"Yes, yes," assented Pierre.\ +\ +The Rhetor cleared his throat, crossed his gloved hands on his breast,\ +and began to speak.\ +\ +"Now I must disclose to you the chief aim of our Order," he said, "and\ +if this aim coincides with yours, you may enter our Brotherhood with\ +profit. The first and chief object of our Order, the foundation on which\ +it rests and which no human power can destroy, is the preservation and\ +handing on to posterity of a certain important mystery... which has come\ +down to us from the remotest ages, even from the first man--a mystery on\ +which perhaps the fate of mankind depends. But since this mystery is of\ +such a nature that nobody can know or use it unless he be prepared by\ +long and diligent self-purification, not everyone can hope to attain it\ +quickly. Hence we have a secondary aim, that of preparing our members as\ +much as possible to reform their hearts, to purify and enlighten their\ +minds, by means handed on to us by tradition from those who have striven\ +to attain this mystery, and thereby to render them capable of receiving\ +it.\ +\ +"By purifying and regenerating our members we try, thirdly, to improve\ +the whole human race, offering it in our members an example of piety and\ +virtue, and thereby try with all our might to combat the evil which\ +sways the world. Think this over and I will come to you again."\ +\ +"To combat the evil which sways the world..." Pierre repeated, and a\ +mental image of his future activity in this direction rose in his mind.\ +He imagined men such as he had himself been a fortnight ago, and he\ +addressed an edifying exhortation to them. He imagined to himself\ +vicious and unfortunate people whom he would assist by word and deed,\ +imagined oppressors whose victims he would rescue. Of the three objects\ +mentioned by the Rhetor, this last, that of improving mankind,\ +especially appealed to Pierre. The important mystery mentioned by the\ +Rhetor, though it aroused his curiosity, did not seem to him essential,\ +and the second aim, that of purifying and regenerating himself, did not\ +much interest him because at that moment he felt with delight that he\ +was already perfectly cured of his former faults and was ready for all\ +that was good.\ +\ +Half an hour later, the Rhetor returned to inform the seeker of the\ +seven virtues, corresponding to the seven steps of Solomon's temple,\ +which every Freemason should cultivate in himself. These virtues were:\ +1. Discretion, the keeping of the secrets of the Order. 2. Obedience to\ +those of higher ranks in the Order. 3. Morality. 4. Love of mankind. 5.\ +Courage. 6. Generosity. 7. The love of death.\ +\ +"In the seventh place, try, by the frequent thought of death," the\ +Rhetor said, "to bring yourself to regard it not as a dreaded foe, but\ +as a friend that frees the soul grown weary in the labors of virtue from\ +this distressful life, and leads it to its place of recompense and\ +peace."\ +\ +"Yes, that must be so," thought Pierre, when after these words the\ +Rhetor went away, leaving him to solitary meditation. "It must be so,\ +but I am still so weak that I love my life, the meaning of which is only\ +now gradually opening before me." But five of the other virtues which\ +Pierre recalled, counting them on his fingers, he felt already in his\ +soul: courage, generosity, morality, love of mankind, and especially\ +obedience--which did not even seem to him a virtue, but a joy. (He now\ +felt so glad to be free from his own lawlessness and to submit his will\ +to those who knew the indubitable truth.) He forgot what the seventh\ +virtue was and could not recall it.\ +\ +The third time the Rhetor came back more quickly and asked Pierre\ +whether he was still firm in his intention and determined to submit to\ +all that would be required of him.\ +\ +"I am ready for everything," said Pierre.\ +\ +"I must also inform you," said the Rhetor, "that our Order delivers its\ +teaching not in words only but also by other means, which may perhaps\ +have a stronger effect on the sincere seeker after wisdom and virtue\ +than mere words. This chamber with what you see therein should already\ +have suggested to your heart, if it is sincere, more than words could\ +do. You will perhaps also see in your further initiation a like method\ +of enlightenment. Our Order imitates the ancient societies that\ +explained their teaching by hieroglyphics. A hieroglyph," said the\ +Rhetor, "is an emblem of something not cognizable by the senses but\ +which possesses qualities resembling those of the symbol."\ +\ +Pierre knew very well what a hieroglyph was, but dared not speak. He\ +listened to the Rhetor in silence, feeling from all he said that his\ +ordeal was about to begin.\ +\ +"If you are resolved, I must begin your initiation," said the Rhetor\ +coming closer to Pierre. "In token of generosity I ask you to give me\ +all your valuables."\ +\ +"But I have nothing here," replied Pierre, supposing that he was asked\ +to give up all he possessed.\ +\ +"What you have with you: watch, money, rings...."\ +\ +Pierre quickly took out his purse and watch, but could not manage for\ +some time to get the wedding ring off his fat finger. When that had been\ +done, the Rhetor said:\ +\ +"In token of obedience, I ask you to undress."\ +\ +Pierre took off his coat, waistcoat, and left boot according to the\ +Rhetor's instructions. The Mason drew the shirt back from Pierre's left\ +breast, and stooping down pulled up the left leg of his trousers to\ +above the knee. Pierre hurriedly began taking off his right boot also\ +and was going to tuck up the other trouser leg to save this stranger the\ +trouble, but the Mason told him that was not necessary and gave him a\ +slipper for his left foot. With a childlike smile of embarrassment,\ +doubt, and self-derision, which appeared on his face against his will,\ +Pierre stood with his arms hanging down and legs apart, before his\ +brother Rhetor, and awaited his further commands.\ +\ +"And now, in token of candor, I ask you to reveal to me your chief\ +passion," said the latter.\ +\ +"My passion! I have had so many," replied Pierre.\ +\ +"That passion which more than all others caused you to waver on the path\ +of virtue," said the Mason.\ +\ +Pierre paused, seeking a reply.\ +\ +"Wine? Gluttony? Idleness? Laziness? Irritability? Anger? Women?" He\ +went over his vices in his mind, not knowing to which of them to give\ +the pre-eminence.\ +\ +"Women," he said in a low, scarcely audible voice.\ +\ +The Mason did not move and for a long time said nothing after this\ +answer. At last he moved up to Pierre and, taking the kerchief that lay\ +on the table, again bound his eyes.\ +\ +"For the last time I say to you--turn all your attention upon yourself,\ +put a bridle on your senses, and seek blessedness, not in passion but in\ +your own heart. The source of blessedness is not without us but\ +within...."\ +\ +Pierre had already long been feeling in himself that refreshing source\ +of blessedness which now flooded his heart with glad emotion.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER IV\ +\ +Soon after this there came into the dark chamber to fetch Pierre, not\ +the Rhetor but Pierre's sponsor, Willarski, whom he recognized by his\ +voice. To fresh questions as to the firmness of his resolution Pierre\ +replied: "Yes, yes, I agree," and with a beaming, childlike smile, his\ +fat chest uncovered, stepping unevenly and timidly in one slippered and\ +one booted foot, he advanced, while Willarski held a sword to his bare\ +chest. He was conducted from that room along passages that turned\ +backwards and forwards and was at last brought to the doors of the\ +Lodge. Willarski coughed, he was answered by the masonic knock with\ +mallets, the doors opened before them. A bass voice (Pierre was still\ +blindfolded) questioned him as to who he was, when and where he was\ +born, and so on. Then he was again led somewhere still blindfolded, and\ +as they went along he was told allegories of the toils of his\ +pilgrimage, of holy friendship, of the Eternal Architect of the\ +universe, and of the courage with which he should endure toils and\ +dangers. During these wanderings, Pierre noticed that he was spoken of\ +now as the "Seeker," now as the "Sufferer," and now as the "Postulant,"\ +to the accompaniment of various knockings with mallets and swords. As he\ +was being led up to some object he noticed a hesitation and uncertainty\ +among his conductors. He heard those around him disputing in whispers\ +and one of them insisting that he should be led along a certain carpet.\ +After that they took his right hand, placed it on something, and told\ +him to hold a pair of compasses to his left breast with the other hand\ +and to repeat after someone who read aloud an oath of fidelity to the\ +laws of the Order. The candles were then extinguished and some spirit\ +lighted, as Pierre knew by the smell, and he was told that he would now\ +see the lesser light. The bandage was taken off his eyes and, by the\ +faint light of the burning spirit, Pierre, as in a dream, saw several\ +men standing before him, wearing aprons like the Rhetor's and holding\ +swords in their hands pointed at his breast. Among them stood a man\ +whose white shirt was stained with blood. On seeing this, Pierre moved\ +forward with his breast toward the swords, meaning them to pierce it.\ +But the swords were drawn back from him and he was at once blindfolded\ +again.\ +\ +"Now thou hast seen the lesser light," uttered a voice. Then the candles\ +were relit and he was told that he would see the full light; the bandage\ +was again removed and more than ten voices said together: "Sic transit\ +gloria mundi."\ +\ +Pierre gradually began to recover himself and looked about at the room\ +and at the people in it. Round a long table covered with black sat some\ +twelve men in garments like those he had already seen. Some of them\ +Pierre had met in Petersburg society. In the President's chair sat a\ +young man he did not know, with a peculiar cross hanging from his neck.\ +On his right sat the Italian abbe whom Pierre had met at Anna Pavlovna's\ +two years before. There were also present a very distinguished dignitary\ +and a Swiss who had formerly been tutor at the Kuragins'. All maintained\ +a solemn silence, listening to the words of the President, who held a\ +mallet in his hand. Let into the wall was a star-shaped light. At one\ +side of the table was a small carpet with various figures worked upon\ +it, at the other was something resembling an altar on which lay a\ +Testament and a skull. Round it stood seven large candlesticks like\ +those used in churches. Two of the brothers led Pierre up to the altar,\ +placed his feet at right angles, and bade him lie down, saying that he\ +must prostrate himself at the Gates of the Temple.\ +\ +"He must first receive the trowel," whispered one of the brothers.\ +\ +"Oh, hush, please!" said another.\ +\ +Pierre, perplexed, looked round with his shortsighted eyes without\ +obeying, and suddenly doubts arose in his mind. "Where am I? What am I\ +doing? Aren't they laughing at me? Shan't I be ashamed to remember\ +this?" But these doubts only lasted a moment. Pierre glanced at the\ +serious faces of those around, remembered all he had already gone\ +through, and realized that he could not stop halfway. He was aghast at\ +his hesitation and, trying to arouse his former devotional feeling,\ +prostrated himself before the Gates of the Temple. And really, the\ +feeling of devotion returned to him even more strongly than before. When\ +he had lain there some time, he was told to get up, and a white leather\ +apron, such as the others wore, was put on him: he was given a trowel\ +and three pairs of gloves, and then the Grand Master addressed him. He\ +told him that he should try to do nothing to stain the whiteness of that\ +apron, which symbolized strength and purity; then of the unexplained\ +trowel, he told him to toil with it to cleanse his own heart from vice,\ +and indulgently to smooth with it the heart of his neighbor. As to the\ +first pair of gloves, a man's, he said that Pierre could not know their\ +meaning but must keep them. The second pair of man's gloves he was to\ +wear at the meetings, and finally of the third, a pair of women's\ +gloves, he said: "Dear brother, these woman's gloves are intended for\ +you too. Give them to the woman whom you shall honor most of all. This\ +gift will be a pledge of your purity of heart to her whom you select to\ +be your worthy helpmeet in Masonry." And after a pause, he added: "But\ +beware, dear brother, that these gloves do not deck hands that are\ +unclean." While the Grand Master said these last words it seemed to\ +Pierre that he grew embarrassed. Pierre himself grew still more\ +confused, blushed like a child till tears came to his eyes, began\ +looking about him uneasily, and an awkward pause followed.\ +\ +This silence was broken by one of the brethren, who led Pierre up to the\ +rug and began reading to him from a manuscript book an explanation of\ +all the figures on it: the sun, the moon, a hammer, a plumb line, a\ +trowel, a rough stone and a squared stone, a pillar, three windows, and\ +so on. Then a place was assigned to Pierre, he was shown the signs of\ +the Lodge, told the password, and at last was permitted to sit down. The\ +Grand Master began reading the statutes. They were very long, and\ +Pierre, from joy, agitation, and embarrassment, was not in a state to\ +understand what was being read. He managed to follow only the last words\ +of the statutes and these remained in his mind.\ +\ +"In our temples we recognize no other distinctions," read the Grand\ +Master, "but those between virtue and vice. Beware of making any\ +distinctions which may infringe equality. Fly to a brother's aid whoever\ +he may be, exhort him who goeth astray, raise him that falleth, never\ +bear malice or enmity toward thy brother. Be kindly and courteous.\ +Kindle in all hearts the flame of virtue. Share thy happiness with thy\ +neighbor, and may envy never dim the purity of that bliss. Forgive thy\ +enemy, do not avenge thyself except by doing him good. Thus fulfilling\ +the highest law thou shalt regain traces of the ancient dignity which\ +thou hast lost."\ +\ +He finished and, getting up, embraced and kissed Pierre, who, with tears\ +of joy in his eyes, looked round him, not knowing how to answer the\ +congratulations and greetings from acquaintances that met him on all\ +sides. He acknowledged no acquaintances but saw in all these men only\ +brothers, and burned with impatience to set to work with them.\ +\ +The Grand Master rapped with his mallet. All the Masons sat down in\ +their places, and one of them read an exhortation on the necessity of\ +humility.\ +\ +The Grand Master proposed that the last duty should be performed, and\ +the distinguished dignitary who bore the title of "Collector of Alms"\ +went round to all the brothers. Pierre would have liked to subscribe all\ +he had, but fearing that it might look like pride subscribed the same\ +amount as the others.\ +\ +The meeting was at an end, and on reaching home Pierre felt as if he had\ +returned from a long journey on which he had spent dozens of years, had\ +become completely changed, and had quite left behind his former habits\ +and way of life.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER V\ +\ +The day after he had been received into the Lodge, Pierre was sitting at\ +home reading a book and trying to fathom the significance of the Square,\ +one side of which symbolized God, another moral things, a third physical\ +things, and the fourth a combination of these. Now and then his\ +attention wandered from the book and the Square and he formed in\ +imagination a new plan of life. On the previous evening at the Lodge, he\ +had heard that a rumor of his duel had reached the Emperor and that it\ +would be wiser for him to leave Petersburg. Pierre proposed going to his\ +estates in the south and there attending to the welfare of his serfs. He\ +was joyfully planning this new life, when Prince Vasili suddenly entered\ +the room.\ +\ +"My dear fellow, what have you been up to in Moscow? Why have you\ +quarreled with Helene, mon cher? You are under a delusion," said Prince\ +Vasili, as he entered. "I know all about it, and I can tell you\ +positively that Helene is as innocent before you as Christ was before\ +the Jews."\ +\ +Pierre was about to reply, but Prince Vasili interrupted him.\ +\ +"And why didn't you simply come straight to me as to a friend? I know\ +all about it and understand it all," he said. "You behaved as becomes a\ +man who values his honor, perhaps too hastily, but we won't go into\ +that. But consider the position in which you are placing her and me in\ +the eyes of society, and even of the court," he added, lowering his\ +voice. "She is living in Moscow and you are here. Remember, dear boy,"\ +and he drew Pierre's arm downwards, "it is simply a misunderstanding. I\ +expect you feel it so yourself. Let us write her a letter at once, and\ +she'll come here and all will be explained, or else, my dear boy, let me\ +tell you it's quite likely you'll have to suffer for it."\ +\ +Prince Vasili gave Pierre a significant look.\ +\ +"I know from reliable sources that the Dowager Empress is taking a keen\ +interest in the whole affair. You know she is very gracious to Helene."\ +\ +Pierre tried several times to speak, but, on one hand, Prince Vasili did\ +not let him and, on the other, Pierre himself feared to begin to speak\ +in the tone of decided refusal and disagreement in which he had firmly\ +resolved to answer his father-in-law. Moreover, the words of the masonic\ +statutes, "be kindly and courteous," recurred to him. He blinked, went\ +red, got up and sat down again, struggling with himself to do what was\ +for him the most difficult thing in life--to say an unpleasant thing to\ +a man's face, to say what the other, whoever he might be, did not\ +expect. He was so used to submitting to Prince Vasili's tone of careless\ +self-assurance that he felt he would be unable to withstand it now, but\ +he also felt that on what he said now his future depended--whether he\ +would follow the same old road, or that new path so attractively shown\ +him by the Masons, on which he firmly believed he would be reborn to a\ +new life.\ +\ +"Now, dear boy," said Prince Vasili playfully, "say 'yes,' and I'll\ +write to her myself, and we will kill the fatted calf."\ +\ +But before Prince Vasili had finished his playful speech, Pierre,\ +without looking at him, and with a kind of fury that made him like his\ +father, muttered in a whisper:\ +\ +"Prince, I did not ask you here. Go, please go!" And he jumped up and\ +opened the door for him.\ +\ +"Go!" he repeated, amazed at himself and glad to see the look of\ +confusion and fear that showed itself on Prince Vasili's face.\ +\ +"What's the matter with you? Are you ill?"\ +\ +"Go!" the quivering voice repeated. And Prince Vasili had to go without\ +receiving any explanation.\ +\ +A week later, Pierre, having taken leave of his new friends, the Masons,\ +and leaving large sums of money with them for alms, went away to his\ +estates. His new brethren gave him letters to the Kiev and Odessa Masons\ +and promised to write to him and guide him in his new activity.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER VI\ +\ +The duel between Pierre and Dolokhov was hushed up and, in spite of the\ +Emperor's severity regarding duels at that time, neither the principals\ +nor their seconds suffered for it. But the story of the duel, confirmed\ +by Pierre's rupture with his wife, was the talk of society. Pierre who\ +had been regarded with patronizing condescension when he was an\ +illegitimate son, and petted and extolled when he was the best match in\ +Russia, had sunk greatly in the esteem of society after his marriage--\ +when the marriageable daughters and their mothers had nothing to hope\ +from him--especially as he did not know how, and did not wish, to court\ +society's favor. Now he alone was blamed for what had happened, he was\ +said to be insanely jealous and subject like his father to fits of\ +bloodthirsty rage. And when after Pierre's departure Helene returned to\ +Petersburg, she was received by all her acquaintances not only\ +cordially, but even with a shade of deference due to her misfortune.\ +When conversation turned on her husband Helene assumed a dignified\ +expression, which with characteristic tact she had acquired though she\ +did not understand its significance. This expression suggested that she\ +had resolved to endure her troubles uncomplainingly and that her husband\ +was a cross laid upon her by God. Prince Vasili expressed his opinion\ +more openly. He shrugged his shoulders when Pierre was mentioned and,\ +pointing to his forehead, remarked:\ +\ +"A bit touched--I always said so."\ +\ +"I said from the first," declared Anna Pavlovna referring to Pierre, "I\ +said at the time and before anyone else" (she insisted on her priority)\ +"that that senseless young man was spoiled by the depraved ideas of\ +these days. I said so even at the time when everybody was in raptures\ +about him, when he had just returned from abroad, and when, if you\ +remember, he posed as a sort of Marat at one of my soirees. And how has\ +it ended? I was against this marriage even then and foretold all that\ +has happened."\ +\ +Anna Pavlovna continued to give on free evenings the same kind of\ +soirees as before--such as she alone had the gift of arranging--at which\ +was to be found "the cream of really good society, the bloom of the\ +intellectual essence of Petersburg," as she herself put it. Besides this\ +refined selection of society Anna Pavlovna's receptions were also\ +distinguished by the fact that she always presented some new and\ +interesting person to the visitors and that nowhere else was the state\ +of the political thermometer of legitimate Petersburg court society so\ +dearly and distinctly indicated.\ +\ +Toward the end of 1806, when all the sad details of Napoleon's\ +destruction of the Prussian army at Jena and Auerstadt and the surrender\ +of most of the Prussian fortresses had been received, when our troops\ +had already entered Prussia and our second war with Napoleon was\ +beginning, Anna Pavlovna gave one of her soirees. The "cream of really\ +good society" consisted of the fascinating Helene, forsaken by her\ +husband, Mortemart, the delightful Prince Hippolyte who had just\ +returned from Vienna, two diplomatists, the old aunt, a young man\ +referred to in that drawing room as "a man of great merit" (un homme de\ +beaucoup de merite), a newly appointed maid of honor and her mother, and\ +several other less noteworthy persons.\ +\ +The novelty Anna Pavlovna was setting before her guests that evening was\ +Boris Drubetskoy, who had just arrived as a special messenger from the\ +Prussian army and was aide-de-camp to a very important personage.\ +\ +The temperature shown by the political thermometer to the company that\ +evening was this:\ +\ +"Whatever the European sovereigns and commanders may do to countenance\ +Bonaparte, and to cause me, and us in general, annoyance and\ +mortification, our opinion of Bonaparte cannot alter. We shall not cease\ +to express our sincere views on that subject, and can only say to the\ +King of Prussia and others: 'So much the worse for you. Tu l'as voulu,\ +George Dandin,' that's all we have to say about it!"\ +\ +When Boris, who was to be served up to the guests, entered the drawing\ +room, almost all the company had assembled, and the conversation, guided\ +by Anna Pavlovna, was about our diplomatic relations with Austria and\ +the hope of an alliance with her.\ +\ +Boris, grown more manly and looking fresh, rosy and self-possessed,\ +entered the drawing room elegantly dressed in the uniform of an aide-de-\ +camp and was duly conducted to pay his respects to the aunt and then\ +brought back to the general circle.\ +\ +Anna Pavlovna gave him her shriveled hand to kiss and introduced him to\ +several persons whom he did not know, giving him a whispered description\ +of each.\ +\ +"Prince Hippolyte Kuragin, M. Krug, the charge d'affaires from\ +Copenhagen--a profound intellect," and simply, "Mr. Shitov--a man of\ +great merit"--this of the man usually so described.\ +\ +Thanks to Anna Mikhaylovna's efforts, his own tastes, and the\ +peculiarities of his reserved nature, Boris had managed during his\ +service to place himself very advantageously. He was aide-de-camp to a\ +very important personage, had been sent on a very important mission to\ +Prussia, and had just returned from there as a special messenger. He had\ +become thoroughly conversant with that unwritten code with which he had\ +been so pleased at Olmutz and according to which an ensign might rank\ +incomparably higher than a general, and according to which what was\ +needed for success in the service was not effort or work, or courage, or\ +perseverance, but only the knowledge of how to get on with those who can\ +grant rewards, and he was himself often surprised at the rapidity of his\ +success and at the inability of others to understand these things. In\ +consequence of this discovery his whole manner of life, all his\ +relations with old friends, all his plans for his future, were\ +completely altered. He was not rich, but would spend his last groat to\ +be better dressed than others, and would rather deprive himself of many\ +pleasures than allow himself to be seen in a shabby equipage or appear\ +in the streets of Petersburg in an old uniform. He made friends with and\ +sought the acquaintance of only those above him in position and who\ +could therefore be of use to him. He liked Petersburg and despised\ +Moscow. The remembrance of the Rostovs' house and of his childish love\ +for Natasha was unpleasant to him and he had not once been to see the\ +Rostovs since the day of his departure for the army. To be in Anna\ +Pavlovna's drawing room he considered an important step up in the\ +service, and he at once understood his role, letting his hostess make\ +use of whatever interest he had to offer. He himself carefully scanned\ +each face, appraising the possibilities of establishing intimacy with\ +each of those present, and the advantages that might accrue. He took the\ +seat indicated to him beside the fair Helene and listened to the general\ +conversation.\ +\ +"Vienna considers the bases of the proposed treaty so unattainable that\ +not even a continuity of most brilliant successes would secure them, and\ +she doubts the means we have of gaining them. That is the actual phrase\ +used by the Vienna cabinet," said the Danish charge d'affaires.\ +\ +"The doubt is flattering," said "the man of profound intellect," with a\ +subtle smile.\ +\ +"We must distinguish between the Vienna cabinet and the Emperor of\ +Austria," said Mortemart. "The Emperor of Austria can never have thought\ +of such a thing, it is only the cabinet that says it."\ +\ +"Ah, my dear vicomte," put in Anna Pavlovna, "L'Urope" (for some reason\ +she called it Urope as if that were a specially refined French\ +pronunciation which she could allow herself when conversing with a\ +Frenchman), "L'Urope ne sera jamais notre alliee sincere." *\ +\ +\ +* "Europe will never be our sincere ally."\ +\ +After that Anna Pavlovna led up to the courage and firmness of the King\ +of Prussia, in order to draw Boris into the conversation.\ +\ +Boris listened attentively to each of the speakers, awaiting his turn,\ +but managed meanwhile to look round repeatedly at his neighbor, the\ +beautiful Helene, whose eyes several times met those of the handsome\ +young aide-de-camp with a smile.\ +\ +Speaking of the position of Prussia, Anna Pavlovna very naturally asked\ +Boris to tell them about his journey to Glogau and in what state he\ +found the Prussian army. Boris, speaking with deliberation, told them in\ +pure, correct French many interesting details about the armies and the\ +court, carefully abstaining from expressing an opinion of his own about\ +the facts he was recounting. For some time he engrossed the general\ +attention, and Anna Pavlovna felt that the novelty she had served up was\ +received with pleasure by all her visitors. The greatest attention of\ +all to Boris' narrative was shown by Helene. She asked him several\ +questions about his journey and seemed greatly interested in the state\ +of the Prussian army. As soon as he had finished she turned to him with\ +her usual smile.\ +\ +"You absolutely must come and see me," she said in a tone that implied\ +that, for certain considerations he could not know of, this was\ +absolutely necessary.\ +\ +"On Tuesday between eight and nine. It will give me great pleasure."\ +\ +Boris promised to fulfill her wish and was about to begin a conversation\ +with her, when Anna Pavlovna called him away on the pretext that her\ +aunt wished to hear him.\ +\ +"You know her husband, of course?" said Anna Pavlovna, closing her eyes\ +and indicating Helene with a sorrowful gesture. "Ah, she is such an\ +unfortunate and charming woman! Don't mention him before her--please\ +don't! It is too painful for her!"\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER VII\ +\ +When Boris and Anna Pavlovna returned to the others Prince Hippolyte had\ +the ear of the company.\ +\ +Bending forward in his armchair he said: "Le Roi de Prusse!" and having\ +said this laughed. Everyone turned toward him.\ +\ +"Le Roi de Prusse?" Hippolyte said interrogatively, again laughing, and\ +then calmly and seriously sat back in his chair. Anna Pavlovna waited\ +for him to go on, but as he seemed quite decided to say no more she\ +began to tell of how at Potsdam the impious Bonaparte had stolen the\ +sword of Frederick the Great.\ +\ +"It is the sword of Frederick the Great which I..." she began, but\ +Hippolyte interrupted her with the words: "Le Roi de Prusse..." and\ +again, as soon as all turned toward him, excused himself and said no\ +more.\ +\ +Anna Pavlovna frowned. Mortemart, Hippolyte's friend, addressed him\ +firmly.\ +\ +"Come now, what about your Roi de Prusse?"\ +\ +Hippolyte laughed as if ashamed of laughing.\ +\ +"Oh, it's nothing. I only wished to say..." (he wanted to repeat a joke\ +he had heard in Vienna and which he had been trying all that evening to\ +get in) "I only wished to say that we are wrong to fight pour le Roi de\ +Prusse!"\ +\ +Boris smiled circumspectly, so that it might be taken as ironical or\ +appreciative according to the way the joke was received. Everybody\ +laughed.\ +\ +"Your joke is too bad, it's witty but unjust," said Anna Pavlovna,\ +shaking her little shriveled finger at him.\ +\ +"We are not fighting pour le Roi de Prusse, but for right principles.\ +Oh, that wicked Prince Hippolyte!" she said.\ +\ +The conversation did not flag all evening and turned chiefly on the\ +political news. It became particularly animated toward the end of the\ +evening when the rewards bestowed by the Emperor were mentioned.\ +\ +"You know N-- N-- received a snuffbox with the portrait last year?" said\ +"the man of profound intellect." "Why shouldn't S-- S-- get the same\ +distinction?"\ +\ +"Pardon me! A snuffbox with the Emperor's portrait is a reward but not a\ +distinction," said the diplomatist--"a gift, rather."\ +\ +"There are precedents, I may mention Schwarzenberg."\ +\ +"It's impossible," replied another.\ +\ +"Will you bet? The ribbon of the order is a different matter...."\ +\ +When everybody rose to go, Helene who had spoken very little all the\ +evening again turned to Boris, asking him in a tone of caressing\ +significant command to come to her on Tuesday.\ +\ +"It is of great importance to me," she said, turning with a smile toward\ +Anna Pavlovna, and Anna Pavlovna, with the same sad smile with which she\ +spoke of her exalted patroness, supported Helene's wish.\ +\ +It seemed as if from some words Boris had spoken that evening about the\ +Prussian army, Helene had suddenly found it necessary to see him. She\ +seemed to promise to explain that necessity to him when he came on\ +Tuesday.\ +\ +But on Tuesday evening, having come to Helene's splendid salon, Boris\ +received no clear explanation of why it had been necessary for him to\ +come. There were other guests and the countess talked little to him, and\ +only as he kissed her hand on taking leave said unexpectedly and in a\ +whisper, with a strangely unsmiling face: "Come to dinner tomorrow... in\ +the evening. You must come.... Come!"\ +\ +During that stay in Petersburg, Boris became an intimate in the\ +countess' house.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER VIII\ +\ +The war was flaming up and nearing the Russian frontier. Everywhere one\ +heard curses on Bonaparte, "the enemy of mankind." Militiamen and\ +recruits were being enrolled in the villages, and from the seat of war\ +came contradictory news, false as usual and therefore variously\ +interpreted. The life of old Prince Bolkonski, Prince Andrew, and\ +Princess Mary had greatly changed since 1805.\ +\ +In 1806 the old prince was made one of the eight commanders in chief\ +then appointed to supervise the enrollment decreed throughout Russia.\ +Despite the weakness of age, which had become particularly noticeable\ +since the time when he thought his son had been killed, he did not think\ +it right to refuse a duty to which he had been appointed by the Emperor\ +himself, and this fresh opportunity for action gave him new energy and\ +strength. He was continually traveling through the three provinces\ +entrusted to him, was pedantic in the fulfillment of his duties, severe\ +to cruel with his subordinates, and went into everything down to the\ +minutest details himself. Princess Mary had ceased taking lessons in\ +mathematics from her father, and when the old prince was at home went to\ +his study with the wet nurse and little Prince Nicholas (as his\ +grandfather called him). The baby Prince Nicholas lived with his wet\ +nurse and nurse Savishna in the late princess' rooms and Princess Mary\ +spent most of the day in the nursery, taking a mother's place to her\ +little nephew as best she could. Mademoiselle Bourienne, too, seemed\ +passionately fond of the boy, and Princess Mary often deprived herself\ +to give her friend the pleasure of dandling the little angel--as she\ +called her nephew--and playing with him.\ +\ +Near the altar of the church at Bald Hills there was a chapel over the\ +tomb of the little princess, and in this chapel was a marble monument\ +brought from Italy, representing an angel with outspread wings ready to\ +fly upwards. The angel's upper lip was slightly raised as though about\ +to smile, and once on coming out of the chapel Prince Andrew and\ +Princess Mary admitted to one another that the angel's face reminded\ +them strangely of the little princess. But what was still stranger,\ +though of this Prince Andrew said nothing to his sister, was that in the\ +expression the sculptor had happened to give the angel's face, Prince\ +Andrew read the same mild reproach he had read on the face of his dead\ +wife: "Ah, why have you done this to me?"\ +\ +Soon after Prince Andrew's return the old prince made over to him a\ +large estate, Bogucharovo, about twenty-five miles from Bald Hills.\ +Partly because of the depressing memories associated with Bald Hills,\ +partly because Prince Andrew did not always feel equal to bearing with\ +his father's peculiarities, and partly because he needed solitude,\ +Prince Andrew made use of Bogucharovo, began building and spent most of\ +his time there.\ +\ +After the Austerlitz campaign Prince Andrew had firmly resolved not to\ +continue his military service, and when the war recommenced and\ +everybody had to serve, he took a post under his father in the\ +recruitment so as to avoid active service. The old prince and his son\ +seemed to have changed roles since the campaign of 1805. The old man,\ +roused by activity, expected the best results from the new campaign,\ +while Prince Andrew on the contrary, taking no part in the war and\ +secretly regretting this, saw only the dark side.\ +\ +On February 26, 1807, the old prince set off on one of his circuits.\ +Prince Andrew remained at Bald Hills as usual during his father's\ +absence. Little Nicholas had been unwell for four days. The coachman who\ +had driven the old prince to town returned bringing papers and letters\ +for Prince Andrew.\ +\ +Not finding the young prince in his study the valet went with the\ +letters to Princess Mary's apartments, but did not find him there. He\ +was told that the prince had gone to the nursery.\ +\ +"If you please, your excellency, Petrusha has brought some papers," said\ +one of the nursemaids to Prince Andrew who was sitting on a child's\ +little chair while, frowning and with trembling hands, he poured drops\ +from a medicine bottle into a wineglass half full of water.\ +\ +"What is it?" he said crossly, and, his hand shaking unintentionally, he\ +poured too many drops into the glass. He threw the mixture onto the\ +floor and asked for some more water. The maid brought it.\ +\ +There were in the room a child's cot, two boxes, two armchairs, a table,\ +a child's table, and the little chair on which Prince Andrew was\ +sitting. The curtains were drawn, and a single candle was burning on the\ +table, screened by a bound music book so that the light did not fall on\ +the cot.\ +\ +"My dear," said Princess Mary, addressing her brother from beside the\ +cot where she was standing, "better wait a bit... later..."\ +\ +"Oh, leave off, you always talk nonsense and keep putting things off--\ +and this is what comes of it!" said Prince Andrew in an exasperated\ +whisper, evidently meaning to wound his sister.\ +\ +"My dear, really... it's better not to wake him... he's asleep," said\ +the princess in a tone of entreaty.\ +\ +Prince Andrew got up and went on tiptoe up to the little bed, wineglass\ +in hand.\ +\ +"Perhaps we'd really better not wake him," he said hesitating.\ +\ +"As you please... really... I think so... but as you please," said\ +Princess Mary, evidently intimidated and confused that her opinion had\ +prevailed. She drew her brother's attention to the maid who was calling\ +him in a whisper.\ +\ +It was the second night that neither of them had slept, watching the boy\ +who was in a high fever. These last days, mistrusting their household\ +doctor and expecting another for whom they had sent to town, they had\ +been trying first one remedy and then another. Worn out by sleeplessness\ +and anxiety they threw their burden of sorrow on one another and\ +reproached and disputed with each other.\ +\ +"Petrusha has come with papers from your father," whispered the maid.\ +\ +Prince Andrew went out.\ +\ +"Devil take them!" he muttered, and after listening to the verbal\ +instructions his father had sent and taking the correspondence and his\ +father's letter, he returned to the nursery.\ +\ +"Well?" he asked.\ +\ +"Still the same. Wait, for heaven's sake. Karl Ivanich always says that\ +sleep is more important than anything," whispered Princess Mary with a\ +sigh.\ +\ +Prince Andrew went up to the child and felt him. He was burning hot.\ +\ +"Confound you and your Karl Ivanich!" He took the glass with the drops\ +and again went up to the cot.\ +\ +"Andrew, don't!" said Princess Mary.\ +\ +But he scowled at her angrily though also with suffering in his eyes,\ +and stooped glass in hand over the infant.\ +\ +"But I wish it," he said. "I beg you--give it him!"\ +\ +Princess Mary shrugged her shoulders but took the glass submissively and\ +calling the nurse began giving the medicine. The child screamed\ +hoarsely. Prince Andrew winced and, clutching his head, went out and sat\ +down on a sofa in the next room.\ +\ +He still had all the letters in his hand. Opening them mechanically he\ +began reading. The old prince, now and then using abbreviations, wrote\ +in his large elongated hand on blue paper as follows:\ +\ +Have just this moment received by special messenger very joyful news--if\ +it's not false. Bennigsen seems to have obtained a complete victory over\ +Buonaparte at Eylau. In Petersburg everyone is rejoicing, and the\ +rewards sent to the army are innumerable. Though he is a German--I\ +congratulate him! I can't make out what the commander at Korchevo--a\ +certain Khandrikov--is up to; till now the additional men and provisions\ +have not arrived. Gallop off to him at once and say I'll have his head\ +off if everything is not here in a week. Have received another letter\ +about the Preussisch-Eylau battle from Petenka--he took part in it--and\ +it's all true. When mischief-makers don't meddle even a German beats\ +Buonaparte. He is said to be fleeing in great disorder. Mind you gallop\ +off to Korchevo without delay and carry out instructions!\ +\ +Prince Andrew sighed and broke the seal of another envelope. It was a\ +closely written letter of two sheets from Bilibin. He folded it up\ +without reading it and reread his father's letter, ending with the\ +words: "Gallop off to Korchevo and carry out instructions!"\ +\ +"No, pardon me, I won't go now till the child is better," thought he,\ +going to the door and looking into the nursery.\ +\ +Princess Mary was still standing by the cot, gently rocking the baby.\ +\ +"Ah yes, and what else did he say that's unpleasant?" thought Prince\ +Andrew, recalling his father's letter. "Yes, we have gained a victory\ +over Bonaparte, just when I'm not serving. Yes, yes, he's always poking\ +fun at me.... Ah, well! Let him!" And he began reading Bilibin's letter\ +which was written in French. He read without understanding half of it,\ +read only to forget, if but for a moment, what he had too long been\ +thinking of so painfully to the exclusion of all else.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER IX\ +\ +Bilibin was now at army headquarters in a diplomatic capacity, and\ +though he wrote in French and used French jests and French idioms, he\ +described the whole campaign with a fearless self-censure and self-\ +derision genuinely Russian. Bilibin wrote that the obligation of\ +diplomatic discretion tormented him, and he was happy to have in Prince\ +Andrew a reliable correspondent to whom he could pour out the bile he\ +had accumulated at the sight of all that was being done in the army. The\ +letter was old, having been written before the battle at Preussisch-\ +Eylau.\ +\ +"Since the day of our brilliant success at Austerlitz," wrote Bilibin,\ +"as you know, my dear prince, I never leave headquarters. I have\ +certainly acquired a taste for war, and it is just as well for me; what\ +I have seen during these last three months is incredible.\ +\ +"I begin ab ovo. 'The enemy of the human race,' as you know, attacks the\ +Prussians. The Prussians are our faithful allies who have only betrayed\ +us three times in three years. We take up their cause, but it turns out\ +that 'the enemy of the human race' pays no heed to our fine speeches and\ +in his rude and savage way throws himself on the Prussians without\ +giving them time to finish the parade they had begun, and in two twists\ +of the hand he breaks them to smithereens and installs himself in the\ +palace at Potsdam.\ +\ +"'I most ardently desire,' writes the King of Prussia to Bonaparte,\ +'that Your Majesty should be received and treated in my palace in a\ +manner agreeable to yourself, and in so far as circumstances allowed, I\ +have hastened to take all steps to that end. May I have succeeded!' The\ +Prussian generals pride themselves on being polite to the French and lay\ +down their arms at the first demand.\ +\ +"The head of the garrison at Glogau, with ten thousand men, asks the\ +King of Prussia what he is to do if he is summoned to surrender.... All\ +this is absolutely true.\ +\ +"In short, hoping to settle matters by taking up a warlike attitude, it\ +turns out that we have landed ourselves in war, and what is more, in war\ +on our own frontiers, with and for the King of Prussia. We have\ +everything in perfect order, only one little thing is lacking, namely, a\ +commander in chief. As it was considered that the Austerlitz success\ +might have been more decisive had the commander-in-chief not been so\ +young, all our octogenarians were reviewed, and of Prozorovski and\ +Kamenski the latter was preferred. The general comes to us, Suvorov-\ +like, in a kibitka, and is received with acclamations of joy and\ +triumph.\ +\ +"On the 4th, the first courier arrives from Petersburg. The mails are\ +taken to the field marshal's room, for he likes to do everything\ +himself. I am called in to help sort the letters and take those meant\ +for us. The field marshal looks on and waits for letters addressed to\ +him. We search, but none are to be found. The field marshal grows\ +impatient and sets to work himself and finds letters from the Emperor to\ +Count T., Prince V., and others. Then he bursts into one of his wild\ +furies and rages at everyone and everything, seizes the letters, opens\ +them, and reads those from the Emperor addressed to others. 'Ah! So\ +that's the way they treat me! No confidence in me! Ah, ordered to keep\ +an eye on me! Very well then! Get along with you!' So he writes the\ +famous order of the day to General Bennigsen:\ +\ +'I am wounded and cannot ride and consequently cannot command the army.\ +You have brought your army corps to Pultusk, routed: here it is exposed,\ +and without fuel or forage, so something must be done, and, as you\ +yourself reported to Count Buxhowden yesterday, you must think of\ +retreating to our frontier--which do today.'\ +\ +"'From all my riding,' he writes to the Emperor, 'I have got a saddle\ +sore which, coming after all my previous journeys, quite prevents my\ +riding and commanding so vast an army, so I have passed on the command\ +to the general next in seniority, Count Buxhowden, having sent him my\ +whole staff and all that belongs to it, advising him if there is a lack\ +of bread, to move farther into the interior of Prussia, for only one\ +day's ration of bread remains, and in some regiments none at all, as\ +reported by the division commanders, Ostermann and Sedmoretzki, and all\ +that the peasants had has been eaten up. I myself will remain in\ +hospital at Ostrolenka till I recover. In regard to which I humbly\ +submit my report, with the information that if the army remains in its\ +present bivouac another fortnight there will not be a healthy man left\ +in it by spring.\ +\ +"'Grant leave to retire to his country seat to an old man who is already\ +in any case dishonored by being unable to fulfill the great and glorious\ +task for which he was chosen. I shall await your most gracious\ +permission here in hospital, that I may not have to play the part of a\ +secretary rather than commander in the army. My removal from the army\ +does not produce the slightest stir--a blind man has left it. There are\ +thousands such as I in Russia.'\ +\ +"The field marshal is angry with the Emperor and he punishes us all,\ +isn't it logical?\ +\ +"This is the first act. Those that follow are naturally increasingly\ +interesting and entertaining. After the field marshal's departure it\ +appears that we are within sight of the enemy and must give battle.\ +Buxhowden is commander-in-chief by seniority, but General Bennigsen does\ +not quite see it; more particularly as it is he and his corps who are\ +within sight of the enemy and he wishes to profit by the opportunity to\ +fight a battle 'on his own hand' as the Germans say. He does so. This is\ +the battle of Pultusk, which is considered a great victory but in my\ +opinion was nothing of the kind. We civilians, as you know, have a very\ +bad way of deciding whether a battle was won or lost. Those who retreat\ +after a battle have lost it is what we say; and according to that it is\ +we who lost the battle of Pultusk. In short, we retreat after the battle\ +but send a courier to Petersburg with news of a victory, and General\ +Bennigsen, hoping to receive from Petersburg the post of commander in\ +chief as a reward for his victory, does not give up the command of the\ +army to General Buxhowden. During this interregnum we begin a very\ +original and interesting series of maneuvers. Our aim is no longer, as\ +it should be, to avoid or attack the enemy, but solely to avoid General\ +Buxhowden who by right of seniority should be our chief. So\ +energetically do we pursue this aim that after crossing an unfordable\ +river we burn the bridges to separate ourselves from our enemy, who at\ +the moment is not Bonaparte but Buxhowden. General Buxhowden was all but\ +attacked and captured by a superior enemy force as a result of one of\ +these maneuvers that enabled us to escape him. Buxhowden pursues us--we\ +scuttle. He hardly crosses the river to our side before we recross to\ +the other. At last our enemy, Buxhowden, catches us and attacks. Both\ +generals are angry, and the result is a challenge on Buxhowden's part\ +and an epileptic fit on Bennigsen's. But at the critical moment the\ +courier who carried the news of our victory at Pultusk to Petersburg\ +returns bringing our appointment as commander-in-chief, and our first\ +foe, Buxhowden, is vanquished; we can now turn our thoughts to the\ +second, Bonaparte. But as it turns out, just at that moment a third\ +enemy rises before us--namely the Orthodox Russian soldiers, loudly\ +demanding bread, meat, biscuits, fodder, and whatnot! The stores are\ +empty, the roads impassable. The Orthodox begin looting, and in a way of\ +which our last campaign can give you no idea. Half the regiments form\ +bands and scour the countryside and put everything to fire and sword.\ +The inhabitants are totally ruined, the hospitals overflow with sick,\ +and famine is everywhere. Twice the marauders even attack our\ +headquarters, and the commander-in-chief has to ask for a battalion to\ +disperse them. During one of these attacks they carried off my empty\ +portmanteau and my dressing gown. The Emperor proposes to give all\ +commanders of divisions the right to shoot marauders, but I much fear\ +this will oblige one half the army to shoot the other."\ +\ +At first Prince Andrew read with his eyes only, but after a while, in\ +spite of himself (although he knew how far it was safe to trust\ +Bilibin), what he had read began to interest him more and more. When he\ +had read thus far, he crumpled the letter up and threw it away. It was\ +not what he had read that vexed him, but the fact that the life out\ +there in which he had now no part could perturb him. He shut his eyes,\ +rubbed his forehead as if to rid himself of all interest in what he had\ +read, and listened to what was passing in the nursery. Suddenly he\ +thought he heard a strange noise through the door. He was seized with\ +alarm lest something should have happened to the child while he was\ +reading the letter. He went on tiptoe to the nursery door and opened it.\ +\ +Just as he went in he saw that the nurse was hiding something from him\ +with a scared look and that Princess Mary was no longer by the cot.\ +\ +"My dear," he heard what seemed to him her despairing whisper behind\ +him.\ +\ +As often happens after long sleeplessness and long anxiety, he was\ +seized by an unreasoning panic--it occurred to him that the child was\ +dead. All that he saw and heard seemed to confirm this terror.\ +\ +"All is over," he thought, and a cold sweat broke out on his forehead.\ +He went to the cot in confusion, sure that he would find it empty and\ +that the nurse had been hiding the dead baby. He drew the curtain aside\ +and for some time his frightened, restless eyes could not find the baby.\ +At last he saw him: the rosy boy had tossed about till he lay across the\ +bed with his head lower than the pillow, and was smacking his lips in\ +his sleep and breathing evenly.\ +\ +Prince Andrew was as glad to find the boy like that, as if he had\ +already lost him. He bent over him and, as his sister had taught him,\ +tried with his lips whether the child was still feverish. The soft\ +forehead was moist. Prince Andrew touched the head with his hand; even\ +the hair was wet, so profusely had the child perspired. He was not dead,\ +but evidently the crisis was over and he was convalescent. Prince Andrew\ +longed to snatch up, to squeeze, to hold to his heart, this helpless\ +little creature, but dared not do so. He stood over him, gazing at his\ +head and at the little arms and legs which showed under the blanket. He\ +heard a rustle behind him and a shadow appeared under the curtain of the\ +cot. He did not look round, but still gazing at the infant's face\ +listened to his regular breathing. The dark shadow was Princess Mary,\ +who had come up to the cot with noiseless steps, lifted the curtain, and\ +dropped it again behind her. Prince Andrew recognized her without\ +looking and held out his hand to her. She pressed it.\ +\ +"He has perspired," said Prince Andrew.\ +\ +"I was coming to tell you so."\ +\ +The child moved slightly in his sleep, smiled, and rubbed his forehead\ +against the pillow.\ +\ +Prince Andrew looked at his sister. In the dim shadow of the curtain her\ +luminous eyes shone more brightly than usual from the tears of joy that\ +were in them. She leaned over to her brother and kissed him, slightly\ +catching the curtain of the cot. Each made the other a warning gesture\ +and stood still in the dim light beneath the curtain as if not wishing\ +to leave that seclusion where they three were shut off from all the\ +world. Prince Andrew was the first to move away, ruffling his hair\ +against the muslin of the curtain.\ +\ +"Yes, this is the one thing left me now," he said with a sigh.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER X\ +\ +Soon after his admission to the masonic Brotherhood, Pierre went to the\ +Kiev province, where he had the greatest number of serfs, taking with\ +him full directions which he had written down for his own guidance as to\ +what he should do on his estates.\ +\ +When he reached Kiev he sent for all his stewards to the head office and\ +explained to them his intentions and wishes. He told them that steps\ +would be taken immediately to free his serfs--and that till then they\ +were not to be overburdened with labor, women while nursing their babies\ +were not to be sent to work, assistance was to be given to the serfs,\ +punishments were to be admonitory and not corporal, and hospitals,\ +asylums, and schools were to be established on all the estates. Some of\ +the stewards (there were semiliterate foremen among them) listened with\ +alarm, supposing these words to mean that the young count was displeased\ +with their management and embezzlement of money, some after their first\ +fright were amused by Pierre's lisp and the new words they had not heard\ +before, others simply enjoyed hearing how the master talked, while the\ +cleverest among them, including the chief steward, understood from this\ +speech how they could best handle the master for their own ends.\ +\ +The chief steward expressed great sympathy with Pierre's intentions, but\ +remarked that besides these changes it would be necessary to go into the\ +general state of affairs which was far from satisfactory.\ +\ +Despite Count Bezukhov's enormous wealth, since he had come into an\ +income which was said to amount to five hundred thousand rubles a year,\ +Pierre felt himself far poorer than when his father had made him an\ +allowance of ten thousand rubles. He had a dim perception of the\ +following budget:\ +\ +About 80,000 went in payments on all the estates to the Land Bank, about\ +30,000 went for the upkeep of the estate near Moscow, the town house,\ +and the allowance to the three princesses; about 15,000 was given in\ +pensions and the same amount for asylums; 150,000 alimony was sent to\ +the countess; about 70,000 went for interest on debts. The building of a\ +new church, previously begun, had cost about 10,000 in each of the last\ +two years, and he did not know how the rest, about 100,000 rubles, was\ +spent, and almost every year he was obliged to borrow. Besides this the\ +chief steward wrote every year telling him of fires and bad harvests, or\ +of the necessity of rebuilding factories and workshops. So the first\ +task Pierre had to face was one for which he had very little aptitude or\ +inclination--practical business.\ +\ +He discussed estate affairs every day with his chief steward. But he\ +felt that this did not forward matters at all. He felt that these\ +consultations were detached from real affairs and did not link up with\ +them or make them move. On the one hand, the chief steward put the state\ +of things to him in the very worst light, pointing out the necessity of\ +paying off the debts and undertaking new activities with serf labor, to\ +which Pierre did not agree. On the other hand, Pierre demanded that\ +steps should be taken to liberate the serfs, which the steward met by\ +showing the necessity of first paying off the loans from the Land Bank,\ +and the consequent impossibility of a speedy emancipation.\ +\ +The steward did not say it was quite impossible, but suggested selling\ +the forests in the province of Kostroma, the land lower down the river,\ +and the Crimean estate, in order to make it possible: all of which\ +operations according to him were connected with such complicated\ +measures--the removal of injunctions, petitions, permits, and so on--\ +that Pierre became quite bewildered and only replied:\ +\ +"Yes, yes, do so."\ +\ +Pierre had none of the practical persistence that would have enabled him\ +to attend to the business himself and so he disliked it and only tried\ +to pretend to the steward that he was attending to it. The steward for\ +his part tried to pretend to the count that he considered these\ +consultations very valuable for the proprietor and troublesome to\ +himself.\ +\ +In Kiev Pierre found some people he knew, and strangers hastened to make\ +his acquaintance and joyfully welcomed the rich newcomer, the largest\ +landowner of the province. Temptations to Pierre's greatest weakness--\ +the one to which he had confessed when admitted to the Lodge--were so\ +strong that he could not resist them. Again whole days, weeks, and\ +months of his life passed in as great a rush and were as much occupied\ +with evening parties, dinners, lunches, and balls, giving him no time\ +for reflection, as in Petersburg. Instead of the new life he had hoped\ +to lead he still lived the old life, only in new surroundings.\ +\ +Of the three precepts of Freemasonry Pierre realized that he did not\ +fulfill the one which enjoined every Mason to set an example of moral\ +life, and that of the seven virtues he lacked two--morality and the love\ +of death. He consoled himself with the thought that he fulfilled another\ +of the precepts--that of reforming the human race--and had other\ +virtues--love of his neighbor, and especially generosity.\ +\ +In the spring of 1807 he decided to return to Petersburg. On the way he\ +intended to visit all his estates and see for himself how far his orders\ +had been carried out and in what state were the serfs whom God had\ +entrusted to his care and whom he intended to benefit.\ +\ +The chief steward, who considered the young count's attempts almost\ +insane--unprofitable to himself, to the count, and to the serfs--made\ +some concessions. Continuing to represent the liberation of the serfs as\ +impracticable, he arranged for the erection of large buildings--schools,\ +hospitals, and asylums--on all the estates before the master arrived.\ +Everywhere preparations were made not for ceremonious welcomes (which he\ +knew Pierre would not like), but for just such gratefully religious\ +ones, with offerings of icons and the bread and salt of hospitality, as,\ +according to his understanding of his master, would touch and delude\ +him.\ +\ +The southern spring, the comfortable rapid traveling in a Vienna\ +carriage, and the solitude of the road, all had a gladdening effect on\ +Pierre. The estates he had not before visited were each more picturesque\ +than the other; the serfs everywhere seemed thriving and touchingly\ +grateful for the benefits conferred on them. Everywhere were receptions,\ +which though they embarrassed Pierre awakened a joyful feeling in the\ +depth of his heart. In one place the peasants presented him with bread\ +and salt and an icon of Saint Peter and Saint Paul, asking permission,\ +as a mark of their gratitude for the benefits he had conferred on them,\ +to build a new chantry to the church at their own expense in honor of\ +Peter and Paul, his patron saints. In another place the women with\ +infants in arms met him to thank him for releasing them from hard work.\ +On a third estate the priest, bearing a cross, came to meet him\ +surrounded by children whom, by the count's generosity, he was\ +instructing in reading, writing, and religion. On all his estates Pierre\ +saw with his own eyes brick buildings erected or in course of erection,\ +all on one plan, for hospitals, schools, and almshouses, which were soon\ +to be opened. Everywhere he saw the stewards' accounts, according to\ +which the serfs' manorial labor had been diminished, and heard the\ +touching thanks of deputations of serfs in their full-skirted blue\ +coats.\ +\ +What Pierre did not know was that the place where they presented him\ +with bread and salt and wished to build a chantry in honor of Peter and\ +Paul was a market village where a fair was held on St. Peter's day, and\ +that the richest peasants (who formed the deputation) had begun the\ +chantry long before, but that nine tenths of the peasants in that\ +villages were in a state of the greatest poverty. He did not know that\ +since the nursing mothers were no longer sent to work on his land, they\ +did still harder work on their own land. He did not know that the priest\ +who met him with the cross oppressed the peasants by his exactions, and\ +that the pupils' parents wept at having to let him take their children\ +and secured their release by heavy payments. He did not know that the\ +brick buildings, built to plan, were being built by serfs whose manorial\ +labor was thus increased, though lessened on paper. He did not know that\ +where the steward had shown him in the accounts that the serfs' payments\ +had been diminished by a third, their obligatory manorial work had been\ +increased by a half. And so Pierre was delighted with his visit to his\ +estates and quite recovered the philanthropic mood in which he had left\ +Petersburg, and wrote enthusiastic letters to his "brother-instructor"\ +as he called the Grand Master.\ +\ +"How easy it is, how little effort it needs, to do so much good,"\ +thought Pierre, "and how little attention we pay to it!"\ +\ +He was pleased at the gratitude he received, but felt abashed at\ +receiving it. This gratitude reminded him of how much more he might do\ +for these simple, kindly people.\ +\ +The chief steward, a very stupid but cunning man who saw perfectly\ +through the naive and intelligent count and played with him as with a\ +toy, seeing the effect these prearranged receptions had on Pierre,\ +pressed him still harder with proofs of the impossibility and above all\ +the uselessness of freeing the serfs, who were quite happy as it was.\ +\ +Pierre in his secret soul agreed with the steward that it would be\ +difficult to imagine happier people, and that God only knew what would\ +happen to them when they were free, but he insisted, though reluctantly,\ +on what he thought right. The steward promised to do all in his power to\ +carry out the count's wishes, seeing clearly that not only would the\ +count never be able to find out whether all measures had been taken for\ +the sale of the land and forests and to release them from the Land Bank,\ +but would probably never even inquire and would never know that the\ +newly erected buildings were standing empty and that the serfs continued\ +to give in money and work all that other people's serfs gave--that is to\ +say, all that could be got out of them.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XI\ +\ +Returning from his journey through South Russia in the happiest state of\ +mind, Pierre carried out an intention he had long had of visiting his\ +friend Bolkonski, whom he had not seen for two years.\ +\ +Bogucharovo lay in a flat uninteresting part of the country among fields\ +and forests of fir and birch, which were partly cut down. The house lay\ +behind a newly dug pond filled with water to the brink and with banks\ +still bare of grass. It was at the end of a village that stretched along\ +the highroad in the midst of a young copse in which were a few fir\ +trees.\ +\ +The homestead consisted of a threshing floor, outhouses, stables, a\ +bathhouse, a lodge, and a large brick house with semicircular facade\ +still in course of construction. Round the house was a garden newly laid\ +out. The fences and gates were new and solid; two fire pumps and a water\ +cart, painted green, stood in a shed; the paths were straight, the\ +bridges were strong and had handrails. Everything bore an impress of\ +tidiness and good management. Some domestic serfs Pierre met, in reply\ +to inquiries as to where the prince lived, pointed out a small newly\ +built lodge close to the pond. Anton, a man who had looked after Prince\ +Andrew in his boyhood, helped Pierre out of his carriage, said that the\ +prince was at home, and showed him into a clean little anteroom.\ +\ +Pierre was struck by the modesty of the small though clean house after\ +the brilliant surroundings in which he had last met his friend in\ +Petersburg.\ +\ +He quickly entered the small reception room with its still-unplastered\ +wooden walls redolent of pine, and would have gone farther, but Anton\ +ran ahead on tiptoe and knocked at a door.\ +\ +"Well, what is it?" came a sharp, unpleasant voice.\ +\ +"A visitor," answered Anton.\ +\ +"Ask him to wait," and the sound was heard of a chair being pushed back.\ +\ +Pierre went with rapid steps to the door and suddenly came face to face\ +with Prince Andrew, who came out frowning and looking old. Pierre\ +embraced him and lifting his spectacles kissed his friend on the cheek\ +and looked at him closely.\ +\ +"Well, I did not expect you, I am very glad," said Prince Andrew.\ +\ +Pierre said nothing; he looked fixedly at his friend with surprise. He\ +was struck by the change in him. His words were kindly and there was a\ +smile on his lips and face, but his eyes were dull and lifeless and in\ +spite of his evident wish to do so he could not give them a joyous and\ +glad sparkle. Prince Andrew had grown thinner, paler, and more manly-\ +looking, but what amazed and estranged Pierre till he got used to it\ +were his inertia and a wrinkle on his brow indicating prolonged\ +concentration on some one thought.\ +\ +As is usually the case with people meeting after a prolonged separation,\ +it was long before their conversation could settle on anything. They put\ +questions and gave brief replies about things they knew ought to be\ +talked over at length. At last the conversation gradually settled on\ +some of the topics at first lightly touched on: their past life, plans\ +for the future, Pierre's journeys and occupations, the war, and so on.\ +The preoccupation and despondency which Pierre had noticed in his\ +friend's look was now still more clearly expressed in the smile with\ +which he listened to Pierre, especially when he spoke with joyful\ +animation of the past or the future. It was as if Prince Andrew would\ +have liked to sympathize with what Pierre was saying, but could not. The\ +latter began to feel that it was in bad taste to speak of his\ +enthusiasms, dreams, and hopes of happiness or goodness, in Prince\ +Andrew's presence. He was ashamed to express his new masonic views,\ +which had been particularly revived and strengthened by his late tour.\ +He checked himself, fearing to seem naive, yet he felt an irresistible\ +desire to show his friend as soon as possible that he was now a quite\ +different, and better, Pierre than he had been in Petersburg.\ +\ +"I can't tell you how much I have lived through since then. I hardly\ +know myself again."\ +\ +"Yes, we have altered much, very much, since then," said Prince Andrew.\ +\ +"Well, and you? What are your plans?"\ +\ +"Plans!" repeated Prince Andrew ironically. "My plans?" he said, as if\ +astonished at the word. "Well, you see, I'm building. I mean to settle\ +here altogether next year...."\ +\ +Pierre looked silently and searchingly into Prince Andrew's face, which\ +had grown much older.\ +\ +"No, I meant to ask..." Pierre began, but Prince Andrew interrupted him.\ +\ +"But why talk of me?... Talk to me, yes, tell me about your travels and\ +all you have been doing on your estates."\ +\ +Pierre began describing what he had done on his estates, trying as far\ +as possible to conceal his own part in the improvements that had been\ +made. Prince Andrew several times prompted Pierre's story of what he had\ +been doing, as though it were all an old-time story, and he listened not\ +only without interest but even as if ashamed of what Pierre was telling\ +him.\ +\ +Pierre felt uncomfortable and even depressed in his friend's company and\ +at last became silent.\ +\ +"I'll tell you what, my dear fellow," said Prince Andrew, who evidently\ +also felt depressed and constrained with his visitor, "I am only\ +bivouacking here and have just come to look round. I am going back to my\ +sister today. I will introduce you to her. But of course you know her\ +already," he said, evidently trying to entertain a visitor with whom he\ +now found nothing in common. "We will go after dinner. And would you now\ +like to look round my place?"\ +\ +They went out and walked about till dinnertime, talking of the political\ +news and common acquaintances like people who do not know each other\ +intimately. Prince Andrew spoke with some animation and interest only of\ +the new homestead he was constructing and its buildings, but even here,\ +while on the scaffolding, in the midst of a talk explaining the future\ +arrangements of the house, he interrupted himself:\ +\ +"However, this is not at all interesting. Let us have dinner, and then\ +we'll set off."\ +\ +At dinner, conversation turned on Pierre's marriage.\ +\ +"I was very much surprised when I heard of it," said Prince Andrew.\ +\ +Pierre blushed, as he always did when it was mentioned, and said\ +hurriedly: "I will tell you some time how it all happened. But you know\ +it is all over, and forever."\ +\ +"Forever?" said Prince Andrew. "Nothing's forever."\ +\ +"But you know how it all ended, don't you? You heard of the duel?"\ +\ +"And so you had to go through that too!"\ +\ +"One thing I thank God for is that I did not kill that man," said\ +Pierre.\ +\ +"Why so?" asked Prince Andrew. "To kill a vicious dog is a very good\ +thing really."\ +\ +"No, to kill a man is bad--wrong."\ +\ +"Why is it wrong?" urged Prince Andrew. "It is not given to man to know\ +what is right and what is wrong. Men always did and always will err, and\ +in nothing more than in what they consider right and wrong."\ +\ +"What does harm to another is wrong," said Pierre, feeling with pleasure\ +that for the first time since his arrival Prince Andrew was roused, had\ +begun to talk, and wanted to express what had brought him to his present\ +state.\ +\ +"And who has told you what is bad for another man?" he asked.\ +\ +"Bad! Bad!" exclaimed Pierre. "We all know what is bad for ourselves."\ +\ +"Yes, we know that, but the harm I am conscious of in myself is\ +something I cannot inflict on others," said Prince Andrew, growing more\ +and more animated and evidently wishing to express his new outlook to\ +Pierre. He spoke in French. "I only know two very real evils in life:\ +remorse and illness. The only good is the absence of those evils. To\ +live for myself avoiding those two evils is my whole philosophy now."\ +\ +"And love of one's neighbor, and self-sacrifice?" began Pierre. "No, I\ +can't agree with you! To live only so as not to do evil and not to have\ +to repent is not enough. I lived like that, I lived for myself and\ +ruined my life. And only now when I am living, or at least trying"\ +(Pierre's modesty made him correct himself) "to live for others, only\ +now have I understood all the happiness of life. No, I shall not agree\ +with you, and you do not really believe what you are saying." Prince\ +Andrew looked silently at Pierre with an ironic smile.\ +\ +"When you see my sister, Princess Mary, you'll get on with her," he\ +said. "Perhaps you are right for yourself," he added after a short\ +pause, "but everyone lives in his own way. You lived for yourself and\ +say you nearly ruined your life and only found happiness when you began\ +living for others. I experienced just the reverse. I lived for glory.--\ +And after all what is glory? The same love of others, a desire to do\ +something for them, a desire for their approval.--So I lived for others,\ +and not almost, but quite, ruined my life. And I have become calmer\ +since I began to live only for myself."\ +\ +"But what do you mean by living only for yourself?" asked Pierre,\ +growing excited. "What about your son, your sister, and your father?"\ +\ +"But that's just the same as myself--they are not others," explained\ +Prince Andrew. "The others, one's neighbors, le prochain, as you and\ +Princess Mary call it, are the chief source of all error and evil. Le\ +prochain--your Kiev peasants to whom you want to do good."\ +\ +And he looked at Pierre with a mocking, challenging expression. He\ +evidently wished to draw him on.\ +\ +"You are joking," replied Pierre, growing more and more excited. "What\ +error or evil can there be in my wishing to do good, and even doing a\ +little--though I did very little and did it very badly? What evil can\ +there be in it if unfortunate people, our serfs, people like ourselves,\ +were growing up and dying with no idea of God and truth beyond\ +ceremonies and meaningless prayers and are now instructed in a\ +comforting belief in future life, retribution, recompense, and\ +consolation? What evil and error are there in it, if people were dying\ +of disease without help while material assistance could so easily be\ +rendered, and I supplied them with a doctor, a hospital, and an asylum\ +for the aged? And is it not a palpable, unquestionable good if a\ +peasant, or a woman with a baby, has no rest day or night and I give\ +them rest and leisure?" said Pierre, hurrying and lisping. "And I have\ +done that though badly and to a small extent; but I have done something\ +toward it and you cannot persuade me that it was not a good action, and\ +more than that, you can't make me believe that you do not think so\ +yourself. And the main thing is," he continued, "that I know, and know\ +for certain, that the enjoyment of doing this good is the only sure\ +happiness in life."\ +\ +"Yes, if you put it like that it's quite a different matter," said\ +Prince Andrew. "I build a house and lay out a garden, and you build\ +hospitals. The one and the other may serve as a pastime. But what's\ +right and what's good must be judged by one who knows all, but not by\ +us. Well, you want an argument," he added, "come on then."\ +\ +They rose from the table and sat down in the entrance porch which served\ +as a veranda.\ +\ +"Come, let's argue then," said Prince Andrew, "You talk of schools," he\ +went on, crooking a finger, "education and so forth; that is, you want\ +to raise him" (pointing to a peasant who passed by them taking off his\ +cap) "from his animal condition and awaken in him spiritual needs, while\ +it seems to me that animal happiness is the only happiness possible, and\ +that is just what you want to deprive him of. I envy him, but you want\ +to make him what I am, without giving him my means. Then you say,\ +'lighten his toil.' But as I see it, physical labor is as essential to\ +him, as much a condition of his existence, as mental activity is to you\ +or me. You can't help thinking. I go to bed after two in the morning,\ +thoughts come and I can't sleep but toss about till dawn, because I\ +think and can't help thinking, just as he can't help plowing and mowing;\ +if he didn't, he would go to the drink shop or fall ill. Just as I could\ +not stand his terrible physical labor but should die of it in a week, so\ +he could not stand my physical idleness, but would grow fat and die. The\ +third thing--what else was it you talked about?" and Prince Andrew\ +crooked a third finger. "Ah, yes, hospitals, medicine. He has a fit, he\ +is dying, and you come and bleed him and patch him up. He will drag\ +about as a cripple, a burden to everybody, for another ten years. It\ +would be far easier and simpler for him to die. Others are being born\ +and there are plenty of them as it is. It would be different if you\ +grudged losing a laborer--that's how I regard him--but you want to cure\ +him from love of him. And he does not want that. And besides, what a\ +notion that medicine ever cured anyone! Killed them, yes!" said he,\ +frowning angrily and turning away from Pierre.\ +\ +Prince Andrew expressed his ideas so clearly and distinctly that it was\ +evident he had reflected on this subject more than once, and he spoke\ +readily and rapidly like a man who has not talked for a long time. His\ +glance became more animated as his conclusions became more hopeless.\ +\ +"Oh, that is dreadful, dreadful!" said Pierre. "I don't understand how\ +one can live with such ideas. I had such moments myself not long ago, in\ +Moscow and when traveling, but at such times I collapsed so that I don't\ +live at all--everything seems hateful to me... myself most of all. Then\ +I don't eat, don't wash... and how is it with you?..."\ +\ +"Why not wash? That is not cleanly," said Prince Andrew; "on the\ +contrary one must try to make one's life as pleasant as possible. I'm\ +alive, that is not my fault, so I must live out my life as best I can\ +without hurting others."\ +\ +"But with such ideas what motive have you for living? One would sit\ +without moving, undertaking nothing...."\ +\ +"Life as it is leaves one no peace. I should be thankful to do nothing,\ +but here on the one hand the local nobility have done me the honor to\ +choose me to be their marshal; it was all I could do to get out of it.\ +They could not understand that I have not the necessary qualifications\ +for it--the kind of good-natured, fussy shallowness necessary for the\ +position. Then there's this house, which must be built in order to have\ +a nook of one's own in which to be quiet. And now there's this\ +recruiting."\ +\ +"Why aren't you serving in the army?"\ +\ +"After Austerlitz!" said Prince Andrew gloomily. "No, thank you very\ +much! I have promised myself not to serve again in the active Russian\ +army. And I won't--not even if Bonaparte were here at Smolensk\ +threatening Bald Hills--even then I wouldn't serve in the Russian army!\ +Well, as I was saying," he continued, recovering his composure, "now\ +there's this recruiting. My father is chief in command of the Third\ +District, and my only way of avoiding active service is to serve under\ +him."\ +\ +"Then you are serving?"\ +\ +"I am."\ +\ +He paused a little while.\ +\ +"And why do you serve?"\ +\ +"Why, for this reason! My father is one of the most remarkable men of\ +his time. But he is growing old, and though not exactly cruel he has too\ +energetic a character. He is so accustomed to unlimited power that he is\ +terrible, and now he has this authority of a commander-in-chief of the\ +recruiting, granted by the Emperor. If I had been two hours late a\ +fortnight ago he would have had a paymaster's clerk at Yukhnovna\ +hanged," said Prince Andrew with a smile. "So I am serving because I\ +alone have any influence with my father, and now and then can save him\ +from actions which would torment him afterwards."\ +\ +"Well, there you see!"\ +\ +"Yes, but it is not as you imagine," Prince Andrew continued. "I did\ +not, and do not, in the least care about that scoundrel of a clerk who\ +had stolen some boots from the recruits; I should even have been very\ +glad to see him hanged, but I was sorry for my father--that again is for\ +myself."\ +\ +Prince Andrew grew more and more animated. His eyes glittered feverishly\ +while he tried to prove to Pierre that in his actions there was no\ +desire to do good to his neighbor.\ +\ +"There now, you wish to liberate your serfs," he continued; "that is a\ +very good thing, but not for you--I don't suppose you ever had anyone\ +flogged or sent to Siberia--and still less for your serfs. If they are\ +beaten, flogged, or sent to Siberia, I don't suppose they are any the\ +worse off. In Siberia they lead the same animal life, and the stripes on\ +their bodies heal, and they are happy as before. But it is a good thing\ +for proprietors who perish morally, bring remorse upon themselves,\ +stifle this remorse and grow callous, as a result of being able to\ +inflict punishments justly and unjustly. It is those people I pity, and\ +for their sake I should like to liberate the serfs. You may not have\ +seen, but I have seen, how good men brought up in those traditions of\ +unlimited power, in time when they grow more irritable, become cruel and\ +harsh, are conscious of it, but cannot restrain themselves and grow more\ +and more miserable."\ +\ +Prince Andrew spoke so earnestly that Pierre could not help thinking\ +that these thoughts had been suggested to Prince Andrew by his father's\ +case.\ +\ +He did not reply.\ +\ +"So that's what I'm sorry for--human dignity, peace of mind, purity, and\ +not the serfs' backs and foreheads, which, beat and shave as you may,\ +always remain the same backs and foreheads."\ +\ +"No, no! A thousand times no! I shall never agree with you," said\ +Pierre.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XII\ +\ +In the evening Andrew and Pierre got into the open carriage and drove to\ +Bald Hills. Prince Andrew, glancing at Pierre, broke the silence now and\ +then with remarks which showed that he was in a good temper.\ +\ +Pointing to the fields, he spoke of the improvements he was making in\ +his husbandry.\ +\ +Pierre remained gloomily silent, answering in monosyllables and\ +apparently immersed in his own thoughts.\ +\ +He was thinking that Prince Andrew was unhappy, had gone astray, did not\ +see the true light, and that he, Pierre, ought to aid, enlighten, and\ +raise him. But as soon as he thought of what he should say, he felt that\ +Prince Andrew with one word, one argument, would upset all his teaching,\ +and he shrank from beginning, afraid of exposing to possible ridicule\ +what to him was precious and sacred.\ +\ +"No, but why do you think so?" Pierre suddenly began, lowering his head\ +and looking like a bull about to charge, "why do you think so? You\ +should not think so."\ +\ +"Think? What about?" asked Prince Andrew with surprise.\ +\ +"About life, about man's destiny. It can't be so. I myself thought like\ +that, and do you know what saved me? Freemasonry! No, don't smile.\ +Freemasonry is not a religious ceremonial sect, as I thought it was:\ +Freemasonry is the best expression of the best, the eternal, aspects of\ +humanity."\ +\ +And he began to explain Freemasonry as he understood it to Prince\ +Andrew. He said that Freemasonry is the teaching of Christianity freed\ +from the bonds of State and Church, a teaching of equality, brotherhood,\ +and love.\ +\ +"Only our holy brotherhood has the real meaning of life, all the rest is\ +a dream," said Pierre. "Understand, my dear fellow, that outside this\ +union all is filled with deceit and falsehood and I agree with you that\ +nothing is left for an intelligent and good man but to live out his\ +life, like you, merely trying not to harm others. But make our\ +fundamental convictions your own, join our brotherhood, give yourself up\ +to us, let yourself be guided, and you will at once feel yourself, as I\ +have felt myself, a part of that vast invisible chain the beginning of\ +which is hidden in heaven," said Pierre.\ +\ +Prince Andrew, looking straight in front of him, listened in silence to\ +Pierre's words. More than once, when the noise of the wheels prevented\ +his catching what Pierre said, he asked him to repeat it, and by the\ +peculiar glow that came into Prince Andrew's eyes and by his silence,\ +Pierre saw that his words were not in vain and that Prince Andrew would\ +not interrupt him or laugh at what he said.\ +\ +They reached a river that had overflowed its banks and which they had to\ +cross by ferry. While the carriage and horses were being placed on it,\ +they also stepped on the raft.\ +\ +Prince Andrew, leaning his arms on the raft railing, gazed silently at\ +the flooding waters glittering in the setting sun.\ +\ +"Well, what do you think about it?" Pierre asked. "Why are you silent?"\ +\ +"What do I think about it? I am listening to you. It's all very well....\ +You say: join our brotherhood and we will show you the aim of life, the\ +destiny of man, and the laws which govern the world. But who are we?\ +Men. How is it you know everything? Why do I alone not see what you see?\ +You see a reign of goodness and truth on earth, but I don't see it."\ +\ +Pierre interrupted him.\ +\ +"Do you believe in a future life?" he asked.\ +\ +"A future life?" Prince Andrew repeated, but Pierre, giving him no time\ +to reply, took the repetition for a denial, the more readily as he knew\ +Prince Andrew's former atheistic convictions.\ +\ +"You say you can't see a reign of goodness and truth on earth. Nor could\ +I, and it cannot be seen if one looks on our life here as the end of\ +everything. On earth, here on this earth" (Pierre pointed to the\ +fields), "there is no truth, all is false and evil; but in the universe,\ +in the whole universe there is a kingdom of truth, and we who are now\ +the children of earth are--eternally--children of the whole universe.\ +Don't I feel in my soul that I am part of this vast harmonious whole?\ +Don't I feel that I form one link, one step, between the lower and\ +higher beings, in this vast harmonious multitude of beings in whom the\ +Deity--the Supreme Power if you prefer the term--is manifest? If I see,\ +clearly see, that ladder leading from plant to man, why should I suppose\ +it breaks off at me and does not go farther and farther? I feel that I\ +cannot vanish, since nothing vanishes in this world, but that I shall\ +always exist and always have existed. I feel that beyond me and above me\ +there are spirits, and that in this world there is truth."\ +\ +"Yes, that is Herder's theory," said Prince Andrew, "but it is not that\ +which can convince me, dear friend--life and death are what convince.\ +What convinces is when one sees a being dear to one, bound up with one's\ +own life, before whom one was to blame and had hoped to make it right"\ +(Prince Andrew's voice trembled and he turned away), "and suddenly that\ +being is seized with pain, suffers, and ceases to exist.... Why? It\ +cannot be that there is no answer. And I believe there is.... That's\ +what convinces, that is what has convinced me," said Prince Andrew.\ +\ +"Yes, yes, of course," said Pierre, "isn't that what I'm saying?"\ +\ +"No. All I say is that it is not argument that convinces me of the\ +necessity of a future life, but this: when you go hand in hand with\ +someone and all at once that person vanishes there, into nowhere, and\ +you yourself are left facing that abyss, and look in. And I have looked\ +in...."\ +\ +"Well, that's it then! You know that there is a there and there is a\ +Someone? There is the future life. The Someone is--God."\ +\ +Prince Andrew did not reply. The carriage and horses had long since been\ +taken off, onto the farther bank, and reharnessed. The sun had sunk half\ +below the horizon and an evening frost was starring the puddles near the\ +ferry, but Pierre and Andrew, to the astonishment of the footmen,\ +coachmen, and ferrymen, still stood on the raft and talked.\ +\ +"If there is a God and future life, there is truth and good, and man's\ +highest happiness consists in striving to attain them. We must live, we\ +must love, and we must believe that we live not only today on this scrap\ +of earth, but have lived and shall live forever, there, in the Whole,"\ +said Pierre, and he pointed to the sky.\ +\ +Prince Andrew stood leaning on the railing of the raft listening to\ +Pierre, and he gazed with his eyes fixed on the red reflection of the\ +sun gleaming on the blue waters. There was perfect stillness. Pierre\ +became silent. The raft had long since stopped and only the waves of the\ +current beat softly against it below. Prince Andrew felt as if the sound\ +of the waves kept up a refrain to Pierre's words, whispering:\ +\ +"It is true, believe it."\ +\ +He sighed, and glanced with a radiant, childlike, tender look at\ +Pierre's face, flushed and rapturous, but yet shy before his superior\ +friend.\ +\ +"Yes, if it only were so!" said Prince Andrew. "However, it is time to\ +get on," he added, and, stepping off the raft, he looked up at the sky\ +to which Pierre had pointed, and for the first time since Austerlitz saw\ +that high, everlasting sky he had seen while lying on that battlefield;\ +and something that had long been slumbering, something that was best\ +within him, suddenly awoke, joyful and youthful, in his soul. It\ +vanished as soon as he returned to the customary conditions of his life,\ +but he knew that this feeling which he did not know how to develop\ +existed within him. His meeting with Pierre formed an epoch in Prince\ +Andrew's life. Though outwardly he continued to live in the same old\ +way, inwardly he began a new life.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XIII\ +\ +It was getting dusk when Prince Andrew and Pierre drove up to the front\ +entrance of the house at Bald Hills. As they approached the house,\ +Prince Andrew with a smile drew Pierre's attention to a commotion going\ +on at the back porch. A woman, bent with age, with a wallet on her back,\ +and a short, long-haired, young man in a black garment had rushed back\ +to the gate on seeing the carriage driving up. Two women ran out after\ +them, and all four, looking round at the carriage, ran in dismay up the\ +steps of the back porch.\ +\ +"Those are Mary's 'God's folk,'" said Prince Andrew. "They have mistaken\ +us for my father. This is the one matter in which she disobeys him. He\ +orders these pilgrims to be driven away, but she receives them."\ +\ +"But what are 'God's folk'?" asked Pierre.\ +\ +Prince Andrew had no time to answer. The servants came out to meet them,\ +and he asked where the old prince was and whether he was expected back\ +soon.\ +\ +The old prince had gone to the town and was expected back any minute.\ +\ +Prince Andrew led Pierre to his own apartments, which were always kept\ +in perfect order and readiness for him in his father's house; he himself\ +went to the nursery.\ +\ +"Let us go and see my sister," he said to Pierre when he returned. "I\ +have not found her yet, she is hiding now, sitting with her 'God's\ +folk.' It will serve her right, she will be confused, but you will see\ +her 'God's folk.' It's really very curious."\ +\ +"What are 'God's folk'?" asked Pierre.\ +\ +"Come, and you'll see for yourself."\ +\ +Princess Mary really was disconcerted and red patches came on her face\ +when they went in. In her snug room, with lamps burning before the icon\ +stand, a young lad with a long nose and long hair, wearing a monk's\ +cassock, sat on the sofa beside her, behind a samovar. Near them, in an\ +armchair, sat a thin, shriveled, old woman, with a meek expression on\ +her childlike face.\ +\ +"Andrew, why didn't you warn me?" said the princess, with mild reproach,\ +as she stood before her pilgrims like a hen before her chickens.\ +\ +"Charmee de vous voir. Je suis tres contente de vous voir," * she said\ +to Pierre as he kissed her hand. She had known him as a child, and now\ +his friendship with Andrew, his misfortune with his wife, and above all\ +his kindly, simple face disposed her favorably toward him. She looked at\ +him with her beautiful radiant eyes and seemed to say, "I like you very\ +much, but please don't laugh at my people." After exchanging the first\ +greetings, they sat down.\ +\ +\ +* "Delighted to see you. I am very glad to see you."\ +\ +"Ah, and Ivanushka is here too!" said Prince Andrew, glancing with a\ +smile at the young pilgrim.\ +\ +"Andrew!" said Princess Mary, imploringly. "Il faut que vous sachiez que\ +c'est une femme," * said Prince Andrew to Pierre.\ +\ +"Andrew, au nom de Dieu!" *(2) Princess Mary repeated.\ +\ +\ +* "You must know that this is a woman."\ +\ +* (2) "For heaven's sake."\ +\ +It was evident that Prince Andrew's ironical tone toward the pilgrims\ +and Princess Mary's helpless attempts to protect them were their\ +customary long-established relations on the matter.\ +\ +"Mais, ma bonne amie," said Prince Andrew, "vous devriez au contraire\ +m'\'eatre reconnaissante de ce que j'explique a Pierre votre intimit\'e9 avec\ +ce jeune homme." *\ +\ +\ +* "But, my dear, you ought on the contrary to be grateful to me for\ +explaining to Pierre your intimacy with this young man."\ +\ +"Really?" said Pierre, gazing over his spectacles with curiosity and\ +seriousness (for which Princess Mary was specially grateful to him) into\ +Ivanushka's face, who, seeing that she was being spoken about, looked\ +round at them all with crafty eyes.\ +\ +Princess Mary's embarrassment on her people's account was quite\ +unnecessary. They were not in the least abashed. The old woman, lowering\ +her eyes but casting side glances at the newcomers, had turned her cup\ +upside down and placed a nibbled bit of sugar beside it, and sat quietly\ +in her armchair, though hoping to be offered another cup of tea.\ +Ivanushka, sipping out of her saucer, looked with sly womanish eyes from\ +under her brows at the young men.\ +\ +"Where have you been? To Kiev?" Prince Andrew asked the old woman.\ +\ +"I have, good sir," she answered garrulously. "Just at Christmastime I\ +was deemed worthy to partake of the holy and heavenly sacrament at the\ +shrine of the saint. And now I'm from Kolyazin, master, where a great\ +and wonderful blessing has been revealed."\ +\ +"And was Ivanushka with you?"\ +\ +"I go by myself, benefactor," said Ivanushka, trying to speak in a bass\ +voice. "I only came across Pelageya in Yukhnovo..."\ +\ +Pelageya interrupted her companion; she evidently wished to tell what\ +she had seen.\ +\ +"In Kolyazin, master, a wonderful blessing has been revealed."\ +\ +"What is it? Some new relics?" asked Prince Andrew.\ +\ +"Andrew, do leave off," said Princess Mary. "Don't tell him, Pelageya."\ +\ +"No... why not, my dear, why shouldn't I? I like him. He is kind, he is\ +one of God's chosen, he's a benefactor, he once gave me ten rubles, I\ +remember. When I was in Kiev, Crazy Cyril says to me (he's one of God's\ +own and goes barefoot summer and winter), he says, 'Why are you not\ +going to the right place? Go to Kolyazin where a wonder-working icon of\ +the Holy Mother of God has been revealed.' On hearing those words I said\ +good-by to the holy folk and went."\ +\ +All were silent, only the pilgrim woman went on in measured tones,\ +drawing in her breath.\ +\ +"So I come, master, and the people say to me: 'A great blessing has been\ +revealed, holy oil trickles from the cheeks of our blessed Mother, the\ +Holy Virgin Mother of God'...."\ +\ +"All right, all right, you can tell us afterwards," said Princess Mary,\ +flushing.\ +\ +"Let me ask her," said Pierre. "Did you see it yourselves?" he inquired.\ +\ +"Oh, yes, master, I was found worthy. Such a brightness on the face like\ +the light of heaven, and from the blessed Mother's cheek it drops and\ +drops...."\ +\ +"But, dear me, that must be a fraud!" said Pierre, naively, who had\ +listened attentively to the pilgrim.\ +\ +"Oh, master, what are you saying?" exclaimed the horrified Pelageya,\ +turning to Princess Mary for support.\ +\ +"They impose on the people," he repeated.\ +\ +"Lord Jesus Christ!" exclaimed the pilgrim woman, crossing herself. "Oh,\ +don't speak so, master! There was a general who did not believe, and\ +said, 'The monks cheat,' and as soon as he'd said it he went blind. And\ +he dreamed that the Holy Virgin Mother of the Kiev catacombs came to him\ +and said, 'Believe in me and I will make you whole.' So he begged: 'Take\ +me to her, take me to her.' It's the real truth I'm telling you, I saw\ +it myself. So he was brought, quite blind, straight to her, and he goes\ +up to her and falls down and says, 'Make me whole,' says he, 'and I'll\ +give thee what the Tsar bestowed on me.' I saw it myself, master, the\ +star is fixed into the icon. Well, and what do you think? He received\ +his sight! It's a sin to speak so. God will punish you," she said\ +admonishingly, turning to Pierre.\ +\ +"How did the star get into the icon?" Pierre asked.\ +\ +"And was the Holy Mother promoted to the rank of general?" said Prince\ +Andrew, with a smile.\ +\ +Pelageya suddenly grew quite pale and clasped her hands.\ +\ +"Oh, master, master, what a sin! And you who have a son!" she began, her\ +pallor suddenly turning to a vivid red. "Master, what have you said? God\ +forgive you!" And she crossed herself. "Lord forgive him! My dear, what\ +does it mean?..." she asked, turning to Princess Mary. She got up and,\ +almost crying, began to arrange her wallet. She evidently felt\ +frightened and ashamed to have accepted charity in a house where such\ +things could be said, and was at the same time sorry to have now to\ +forgo the charity of this house.\ +\ +"Now, why need you do it?" said Princess Mary. "Why did you come to\ +me?..."\ +\ +"Come, Pelageya, I was joking," said Pierre. "Princesse, ma parole, je\ +n'ai pas voulu l'offenser. * I did not mean anything, I was only\ +joking," he said, smiling shyly and trying to efface his offense. "It\ +was all my fault, and Andrew was only joking."\ +\ +\ +* "Princess, on my word, I did not wish to offend her."\ +\ +Pelageya stopped doubtfully, but in Pierre's face there was such a look\ +of sincere penitence, and Prince Andrew glanced so meekly now at her and\ +now at Pierre, that she was gradually reassured.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XIV\ +\ +The pilgrim woman was appeased and, being encouraged to talk, gave a\ +long account of Father Amphilochus, who led so holy a life that his\ +hands smelled of incense, and how on her last visit to Kiev some monks\ +she knew let her have the keys of the catacombs, and how she, taking\ +some dried bread with her, had spent two days in the catacombs with the\ +saints. "I'd pray awhile to one, ponder awhile, then go on to another.\ +I'd sleep a bit and then again go and kiss the relics, and there was\ +such peace all around, such blessedness, that one don't want to come\ +out, even into the light of heaven again."\ +\ +Pierre listened to her attentively and seriously. Prince Andrew went out\ +of the room, and then, leaving "God's folk" to finish their tea,\ +Princess Mary took Pierre into the drawing room.\ +\ +"You are very kind," she said to him.\ +\ +"Oh, I really did not mean to hurt her feelings. I understand them so\ +well and have the greatest respect for them."\ +\ +Princess Mary looked at him silently and smiled affectionately.\ +\ +"I have known you a long time, you see, and am as fond of you as of a\ +brother," she said. "How do you find Andrew?" she added hurriedly, not\ +giving him time to reply to her affectionate words. "I am very anxious\ +about him. His health was better in the winter, but last spring his\ +wound reopened and the doctor said he ought to go away for a cure. And I\ +am also very much afraid for him spiritually. He has not a character\ +like us women who, when we suffer, can weep away our sorrows. He keeps\ +it all within him. Today he is cheerful and in good spirits, but that is\ +the effect of your visit--he is not often like that. If you could\ +persuade him to go abroad. He needs activity, and this quiet regular\ +life is very bad for him. Others don't notice it, but I see it."\ +\ +Toward ten o'clock the men servants rushed to the front door, hearing\ +the bells of the old prince's carriage approaching. Prince Andrew and\ +Pierre also went out into the porch.\ +\ +"Who's that?" asked the old prince, noticing Pierre as he got out of the\ +carriage.\ +\ +"Ah! Very glad! Kiss me," he said, having learned who the young stranger\ +was.\ +\ +The old prince was in a good temper and very gracious to Pierre.\ +\ +Before supper, Prince Andrew, coming back to his father's study, found\ +him disputing hotly with his visitor. Pierre was maintaining that a time\ +would come when there would be no more wars. The old prince disputed it\ +chaffingly, but without getting angry.\ +\ +"Drain the blood from men's veins and put in water instead, then there\ +will be no more war! Old women's nonsense--old women's nonsense!" he\ +repeated, but still he patted Pierre affectionately on the shoulder, and\ +then went up to the table where Prince Andrew, evidently not wishing to\ +join in the conversation, was looking over the papers his father had\ +brought from town. The old prince went up to him and began to talk\ +business.\ +\ +"The marshal, a Count Rostov, hasn't sent half his contingent. He came\ +to town and wanted to invite me to dinner--I gave him a pretty\ +dinner!... And there, look at this.... Well, my boy," the old prince\ +went on, addressing his son and patting Pierre on the shoulder. "A fine\ +fellow--your friend--I like him! He stirs me up. Another says clever\ +things and one doesn't care to listen, but this one talks rubbish yet\ +stirs an old fellow up. Well, go! Get along! Perhaps I'll come and sit\ +with you at supper. We'll have another dispute. Make friends with my\ +little fool, Princess Mary," he shouted after Pierre, through the door.\ +\ +Only now, on his visit to Bald Hills, did Pierre fully realize the\ +strength and charm of his friendship with Prince Andrew. That charm was\ +not expressed so much in his relations with him as with all his family\ +and with the household. With the stern old prince and the gentle, timid\ +Princess Mary, though he had scarcely known them, Pierre at once felt\ +like an old friend. They were all fond of him already. Not only Princess\ +Mary, who had been won by his gentleness with the pilgrims, gave him her\ +most radiant looks, but even the one-year-old "Prince Nicholas" (as his\ +grandfather called him) smiled at Pierre and let himself be taken in his\ +arms, and Michael Ivanovich and Mademoiselle Bourienne looked at him\ +with pleasant smiles when he talked to the old prince.\ +\ +The old prince came in to supper; this was evidently on Pierre's\ +account. And during the two days of the young man's visit he was\ +extremely kind to him and told him to visit them again.\ +\ +When Pierre had gone and the members of the household met together, they\ +began to express their opinions of him as people always do after a new\ +acquaintance has left, but as seldom happens, no one said anything but\ +what was good of him.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XV\ +\ +When returning from his leave, Rostov felt, for the first time, how\ +close was the bond that united him to Denisov and the whole regiment.\ +\ +On approaching it, Rostov felt as he had done when approaching his home\ +in Moscow. When he saw the first hussar with the unbuttoned uniform of\ +his regiment, when he recognized red-haired Dementyev and saw the picket\ +ropes of the roan horses, when Lavrushka gleefully shouted to his\ +master, "The count has come!" and Denisov, who had been asleep on his\ +bed, ran all disheveled out of the mud hut to embrace him, and the\ +officers collected round to greet the new arrival, Rostov experienced\ +the same feeling as when his mother, his father, and his sister had\ +embraced him, and tears of joy choked him so that he could not speak.\ +The regiment was also a home, and as unalterably dear and precious as\ +his parents' house.\ +\ +When he had reported himself to the commander of the regiment and had\ +been reassigned to his former squadron, had been on duty and had gone\ +out foraging, when he had again entered into all the little interests of\ +the regiment and felt himself deprived of liberty and bound in one\ +narrow, unchanging frame, he experienced the same sense of peace, of\ +moral support, and the same sense of being at home here in his own\ +place, as he had felt under the parental roof. But here was none of all\ +that turmoil of the world at large, where he did not know his right\ +place and took mistaken decisions; here was no Sonya with whom he ought,\ +or ought not, to have an explanation; here was no possibility of going\ +there or not going there; here there were not twenty-four hours in the\ +day which could be spent in such a variety of ways; there was not that\ +innumerable crowd of people of whom not one was nearer to him or farther\ +from him than another; there were none of those uncertain and undefined\ +money relations with his father, and nothing to recall that terrible\ +loss to Dolokhov. Here, in the regiment, all was clear and simple. The\ +whole world was divided into two unequal parts: one, our Pavlograd\ +regiment; the other, all the rest. And the rest was no concern of his.\ +In the regiment, everything was definite: who was lieutenant, who\ +captain, who was a good fellow, who a bad one, and most of all, who was\ +a comrade. The canteenkeeper gave one credit, one's pay came every four\ +months, there was nothing to think out or decide, you had only to do\ +nothing that was considered bad in the Pavlograd regiment and, when\ +given an order, to do what was clearly, distinctly, and definitely\ +ordered--and all would be well.\ +\ +Having once more entered into the definite conditions of this regimental\ +life, Rostov felt the joy and relief a tired man feels on lying down to\ +rest. Life in the regiment, during this campaign, was all the pleasanter\ +for him, because, after his loss to Dolokhov (for which, in spite of all\ +his family's efforts to console him, he could not forgive himself), he\ +had made up his mind to atone for his fault by serving, not as he had\ +done before, but really well, and by being a perfectly first-rate\ +comrade and officer--in a word, a splendid man altogether, a thing which\ +seemed so difficult out in the world, but so possible in the regiment.\ +\ +After his losses, he had determined to pay back his debt to his parents\ +in five years. He received ten thousand rubles a year, but now resolved\ +to take only two thousand and leave the rest to repay the debt to his\ +parents.\ +\ +Our army, after repeated retreats and advances and battles at Pultusk\ +and Preussisch-Eylau, was concentrated near Bartenstein. It was awaiting\ +the Emperor's arrival and the beginning of a new campaign.\ +\ +The Pavlograd regiment, belonging to that part of the army which had\ +served in the 1805 campaign, had been recruiting up to strength in\ +Russia, and arrived too late to take part in the first actions of the\ +campaign. It had been neither at Pultusk nor at Preussisch-Eylau and,\ +when it joined the army in the field in the second half of the campaign,\ +was attached to Platov's division.\ +\ +Platov's division was acting independently of the main army. Several\ +times parts of the Pavlograd regiment had exchanged shots with the\ +enemy, had taken prisoners, and once had even captured Marshal Oudinot's\ +carriages. In April the Pavlograds were stationed immovably for some\ +weeks near a totally ruined and deserted German village.\ +\ +A thaw had set in, it was muddy and cold, the ice on the river broke,\ +and the roads became impassable. For days neither provisions for the men\ +nor fodder for the horses had been issued. As no transports could\ +arrive, the men dispersed about the abandoned and deserted villages,\ +searching for potatoes, but found few even of these.\ +\ +Everything had been eaten up and the inhabitants had all fled--if any\ +remained, they were worse than beggars and nothing more could be taken\ +from them; even the soldiers, usually pitiless enough, instead of taking\ +anything from them, often gave them the last of their rations.\ +\ +The Pavlograd regiment had had only two men wounded in action, but had\ +lost nearly half its men from hunger and sickness. In the hospitals,\ +death was so certain that soldiers suffering from fever, or the swelling\ +that came from bad food, preferred to remain on duty, and hardly able to\ +drag their legs went to the front rather than to the hospitals. When\ +spring came on, the soldiers found a plant just showing out of the\ +ground that looked like asparagus, which, for some reason, they called\ +"Mashka's sweet root." It was very bitter, but they wandered about the\ +fields seeking it and dug it out with their sabers and ate it, though\ +they were ordered not to do so, as it was a noxious plant. That spring a\ +new disease broke out among the soldiers, a swelling of the arms, legs,\ +and face, which the doctors attributed to eating this root. But in spite\ +of all this, the soldiers of Denisov's squadron fed chiefly on "Mashka's\ +sweet root," because it was the second week that the last of the\ +biscuits were being doled out at the rate of half a pound a man and the\ +last potatoes received had sprouted and frozen.\ +\ +The horses also had been fed for a fortnight on straw from the thatched\ +roofs and had become terribly thin, though still covered with tufts of\ +felty winter hair.\ +\ +Despite this destitution, the soldiers and officers went on living just\ +as usual. Despite their pale swollen faces and tattered uniforms, the\ +hussars formed line for roll call, kept things in order, groomed their\ +horses, polished their arms, brought in straw from the thatched roofs in\ +place of fodder, and sat down to dine round the caldrons from which they\ +rose up hungry, joking about their nasty food and their hunger. As\ +usual, in their spare time, they lit bonfires, steamed themselves before\ +them naked; smoked, picked out and baked sprouting rotten potatoes, told\ +and listened to stories of Potemkin's and Suvorov's campaigns, or to\ +legends of Alesha the Sly, or the priest's laborer Mikolka.\ +\ +The officers, as usual, lived in twos and threes in the roofless, half-\ +ruined houses. The seniors tried to collect straw and potatoes and, in\ +general, food for the men. The younger ones occupied themselves as\ +before, some playing cards (there was plenty of money, though there was\ +no food), some with more innocent games, such as quoits and skittles.\ +The general trend of the campaign was rarely spoken of, partly because\ +nothing certain was known about it, partly because there was a vague\ +feeling that in the main it was going badly.\ +\ +Rostov lived, as before, with Denisov, and since their furlough they had\ +become more friendly than ever. Denisov never spoke of Rostov's family,\ +but by the tender friendship his commander showed him, Rostov felt that\ +the elder hussar's luckless love for Natasha played a part in\ +strengthening their friendship. Denisov evidently tried to expose Rostov\ +to danger as seldom as possible, and after an action greeted his safe\ +return with evident joy. On one of his foraging expeditions, in a\ +deserted and ruined village to which he had come in search of\ +provisions, Rostov found a family consisting of an old Pole and his\ +daughter with an infant in arms. They were half clad, hungry, too weak\ +to get away on foot and had no means of obtaining a conveyance. Rostov\ +brought them to his quarters, placed them in his own lodging, and kept\ +them for some weeks while the old man was recovering. One of his\ +comrades, talking of women, began chaffing Rostov, saying that he was\ +more wily than any of them and that it would not be a bad thing if he\ +introduced to them the pretty Polish girl he had saved. Rostov took the\ +joke as an insult, flared up, and said such unpleasant things to the\ +officer that it was all Denisov could do to prevent a duel. When the\ +officer had gone away, Denisov, who did not himself know what Rostov's\ +relations with the Polish girl might be, began to upbraid him for his\ +quickness of temper, and Rostov replied:\ +\ +"Say what you like.... She is like a sister to me, and I can't tell you\ +how it offended me... because... well, for that reason...."\ +\ +Denisov patted him on the shoulder and began rapidly pacing the room\ +without looking at Rostov, as was his way at moments of deep feeling.\ +\ +"Ah, what a mad bweed you Wostovs are!" he muttered, and Rostov noticed\ +tears in his eyes.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XVI\ +\ +In April the troops were enlivened by news of the Emperor's arrival, but\ +Rostov had no chance of being present at the review he held at\ +Bartenstein, as the Pavlograds were at the outposts far beyond that\ +place.\ +\ +They were bivouacking. Denisov and Rostov were living in an earth hut,\ +dug out for them by the soldiers and roofed with branches and turf. The\ +hut was made in the following manner, which had then come into vogue. A\ +trench was dug three and a half feet wide, four feet eight inches deep,\ +and eight feet long. At one end of the trench, steps were cut out and\ +these formed the entrance and vestibule. The trench itself was the room,\ +in which the lucky ones, such as the squadron commander, had a board,\ +lying on piles at the end opposite the entrance, to serve as a table. On\ +each side of the trench, the earth was cut out to a breadth of about two\ +and a half feet, and this did duty for bedsteads and couches. The roof\ +was so constructed that one could stand up in the middle of the trench\ +and could even sit up on the beds if one drew close to the table.\ +Denisov, who was living luxuriously because the soldiers of his squadron\ +liked him, had also a board in the roof at the farther end, with a piece\ +of (broken but mended) glass in it for a window. When it was very cold,\ +embers from the soldiers' campfire were placed on a bent sheet of iron\ +on the steps in the "reception room"--as Denisov called that part of the\ +hut--and it was then so warm that the officers, of whom there were\ +always some with Denisov and Rostov, sat in their shirt sleeves.\ +\ +In April, Rostov was on orderly duty. One morning, between seven and\ +eight, returning after a sleepless night, he sent for embers, changed\ +his rain-soaked underclothes, said his prayers, drank tea, got warm,\ +then tidied up the things on the table and in his own corner, and, his\ +face glowing from exposure to the wind and with nothing on but his\ +shirt, lay down on his back, putting his arms under his head. He was\ +pleasantly considering the probability of being promoted in a few days\ +for his last reconnoitering expedition, and was awaiting Denisov, who\ +had gone out somewhere and with whom he wanted a talk.\ +\ +Suddenly he heard Denisov shouting in a vibrating voice behind the hut,\ +evidently much excited. Rostov moved to the window to see whom he was\ +speaking to, and saw the quartermaster, Topcheenko.\ +\ +"I ordered you not to let them eat that Mashka woot stuff!" Denisov was\ +shouting. "And I saw with my own eyes how Lazarchuk bwought some fwom\ +the fields."\ +\ +"I have given the order again and again, your honor, but they don't\ +obey," answered the quartermaster.\ +\ +Rostov lay down again on his bed and thought complacently: "Let him fuss\ +and bustle now, my job's done and I'm lying down--capitally!" He could\ +hear that Lavrushka--that sly, bold orderly of Denisov's--was talking,\ +as well as the quartermaster. Lavrushka was saying something about\ +loaded wagons, biscuits, and oxen he had seen when he had gone out for\ +provisions.\ +\ +Then Denisov's voice was heard shouting farther and farther away.\ +"Saddle! Second platoon!"\ +\ +"Where are they off to now?" thought Rostov.\ +\ +Five minutes later, Denisov came into the hut, climbed with muddy boots\ +on the bed, lit his pipe, furiously scattered his things about, took his\ +leaded whip, buckled on his saber, and went out again. In answer to\ +Rostov's inquiry where he was going, he answered vaguely and crossly\ +that he had some business.\ +\ +"Let God and our gweat monarch judge me afterwards!" said Denisov going\ +out, and Rostov heard the hoofs of several horses splashing through the\ +mud. He did not even trouble to find out where Denisov had gone. Having\ +got warm in his corner, he fell asleep and did not leave the hut till\ +toward evening. Denisov had not yet returned. The weather had cleared\ +up, and near the next hut two officers and a cadet were playing svayka,\ +laughing as they threw their missiles which buried themselves in the\ +soft mud. Rostov joined them. In the middle of the game, the officers\ +saw some wagons approaching with fifteen hussars on their skinny horses\ +behind them. The wagons escorted by the hussars drew up to the picket\ +ropes and a crowd of hussars surrounded them.\ +\ +"There now, Denisov has been worrying," said Rostov, "and here are the\ +provisions."\ +\ +"So they are!" said the officers. "Won't the soldiers be glad!"\ +\ +A little behind the hussars came Denisov, accompanied by two infantry\ +officers with whom he was talking.\ +\ +Rostov went to meet them.\ +\ +"I warn you, Captain," one of the officers, a short thin man, evidently\ +very angry, was saying.\ +\ +"Haven't I told you I won't give them up?" replied Denisov.\ +\ +"You will answer for it, Captain. It is mutiny--seizing the transport of\ +one's own army. Our men have had nothing to eat for two days."\ +\ +"And mine have had nothing for two weeks," said Denisov.\ +\ +"It is robbery! You'll answer for it, sir!" said the infantry officer,\ +raising his voice.\ +\ +"Now, what are you pestewing me for?" cried Denisov, suddenly losing his\ +temper. "I shall answer for it and not you, and you'd better not buzz\ +about here till you get hurt. Be off! Go!" he shouted at the officers.\ +\ +"Very well, then!" shouted the little officer, undaunted and not riding\ +away. "If you are determined to rob, I'll..."\ +\ +"Go to the devil! quick ma'ch, while you're safe and sound!" and Denisov\ +turned his horse on the officer.\ +\ +"Very well, very well!" muttered the officer, threateningly, and turning\ +his horse he trotted away, jolting in his saddle.\ +\ +"A dog astwide a fence! A weal dog astwide a fence!" shouted Denisov\ +after him (the most insulting expression a cavalryman can address to a\ +mounted infantryman) and riding up to Rostov, he burst out laughing.\ +\ +"I've taken twansports from the infantwy by force!" he said. "After all,\ +can't let our men starve."\ +\ +The wagons that had reached the hussars had been consigned to an\ +infantry regiment, but learning from Lavrushka that the transport was\ +unescorted, Denisov with his hussars had seized it by force. The\ +soldiers had biscuits dealt out to them freely, and they even shared\ +them with the other squadrons.\ +\ +The next day the regimental commander sent for Denisov, and holding his\ +fingers spread out before his eyes said:\ +\ +"This is how I look at this affair: I know nothing about it and won't\ +begin proceedings, but I advise you to ride over to the staff and settle\ +the business there in the commissariat department and if possible sign a\ +receipt for such and such stores received. If not, as the demand was\ +booked against an infantry regiment, there will be a row and the affair\ +may end badly."\ +\ +From the regimental commander's, Denisov rode straight to the staff with\ +a sincere desire to act on this advice. In the evening he came back to\ +his dugout in a state such as Rostov had never yet seen him in. Denisov\ +could not speak and gasped for breath. When Rostov asked what was the\ +matter, he only uttered some incoherent oaths and threats in a hoarse,\ +feeble voice.\ +\ +Alarmed at Denisov's condition, Rostov suggested that he should undress,\ +drink some water, and send for the doctor.\ +\ +"Twy me for wobbewy... oh! Some more water... Let them twy me, but I'll\ +always thwash scoundwels... and I'll tell the Empewo'... Ice..." he\ +muttered.\ +\ +The regimental doctor, when he came, said it was absolutely necessary to\ +bleed Denisov. A deep saucer of black blood was taken from his hairy arm\ +and only then was he able to relate what had happened to him.\ +\ +"I get there," began Denisov. "'Now then, where's your chief's\ +quarters?' They were pointed out. 'Please to wait.' 'I've widden twenty\ +miles and have duties to attend to and no time to wait. Announce me.'\ +Vewy well, so out comes their head chief--also took it into his head to\ +lecture me: 'It's wobbewy!'--'Wobbewy,' I say, 'is not done by man who\ +seizes pwovisions to feed his soldiers, but by him who takes them to\ +fill his own pockets!' 'Will you please be silent?' 'Vewy good!' Then he\ +says: 'Go and give a weceipt to the commissioner, but your affair will\ +be passed on to headquarters.' I go to the commissioner. I enter, and at\ +the table... who do you think? No, but wait a bit!... Who is it that's\ +starving us?" shouted Denisov, hitting the table with the fist of his\ +newly bled arm so violently that the table nearly broke down and the\ +tumblers on it jumped about. "Telyanin! 'What? So it's you who's\ +starving us to death! Is it? Take this and this!' and I hit him so pat,\ +stwaight on his snout... 'Ah, what a... what a...!' and I sta'ted\ +fwashing him... Well, I've had a bit of fun I can tell you!" cried\ +Denisov, gleeful and yet angry, his white teeth showing under his black\ +mustache. "I'd have killed him if they hadn't taken him away!"\ +\ +"But what are you shouting for? Calm yourself," said Rostov. "You've set\ +your arm bleeding afresh. Wait, we must tie it up again."\ +\ +Denisov was bandaged up again and put to bed. Next day he woke calm and\ +cheerful.\ +\ +But at noon the adjutant of the regiment came into Rostov's and\ +Denisov's dugout with a grave and serious face and regretfully showed\ +them a paper addressed to Major Denisov from the regimental commander in\ +which inquiries were made about yesterday's occurrence. The adjutant\ +told them that the affair was likely to take a very bad turn: that a\ +court-martial had been appointed, and that in view of the severity with\ +which marauding and insubordination were now regarded, degradation to\ +the ranks would be the best that could be hoped for.\ +\ +The case, as represented by the offended parties, was that, after\ +seizing the transports, Major Denisov, being drunk, went to the chief\ +quartermaster and without any provocation called him a thief, threatened\ +to strike him, and on being led out had rushed into the office and given\ +two officials a thrashing, and dislocated the arm of one of them.\ +\ +In answer to Rostov's renewed questions, Denisov said, laughing, that he\ +thought he remembered that some other fellow had got mixed up in it, but\ +that it was all nonsense and rubbish, and he did not in the least fear\ +any kind of trial, and that if those scoundrels dared attack him he\ +would give them an answer that they would not easily forget.\ +\ +Denisov spoke contemptuously of the whole matter, but Rostov knew him\ +too well not to detect that (while hiding it from others) at heart he\ +feared a court-martial and was worried over the affair, which was\ +evidently taking a bad turn. Every day, letters of inquiry and notices\ +from the court arrived, and on the first of May, Denisov was ordered to\ +hand the squadron over to the next in seniority and appear before the\ +staff of his division to explain his violence at the commissariat\ +office. On the previous day Platov reconnoitered with two Cossack\ +regiments and two squadrons of hussars. Denisov, as was his wont, rode\ +out in front of the outposts, parading his courage. A bullet fired by a\ +French sharpshooter hit him in the fleshy part of his leg. Perhaps at\ +another time Denisov would not have left the regiment for so slight a\ +wound, but now he took advantage of it to excuse himself from appearing\ +at the staff and went into hospital.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XVII\ +\ +In June the battle of Friedland was fought, in which the Pavlograds did\ +not take part, and after that an armistice was proclaimed. Rostov, who\ +felt his friend's absence very much, having no news of him since he left\ +and feeling very anxious about his wound and the progress of his\ +affairs, took advantage of the armistice to get leave to visit Denisov\ +in hospital.\ +\ +The hospital was in a small Prussian town that had been twice devastated\ +by Russian and French troops. Because it was summer, when it is so\ +beautiful out in the fields, the little town presented a particularly\ +dismal appearance with its broken roofs and fences, its foul streets,\ +tattered inhabitants, and the sick and drunken soldiers wandering about.\ +\ +The hospital was in a brick building with some of the window frames and\ +panes broken and a courtyard surrounded by the remains of a wooden fence\ +that had been pulled to pieces. Several bandaged soldiers, with pale\ +swollen faces, were sitting or walking about in the sunshine in the\ +yard.\ +\ +Directly Rostov entered the door he was enveloped by a smell of\ +putrefaction and hospital air. On the stairs he met a Russian army\ +doctor smoking a cigar. The doctor was followed by a Russian assistant.\ +\ +"I can't tear myself to pieces," the doctor was saying. "Come to Makar\ +Alexeevich in the evening. I shall be there."\ +\ +The assistant asked some further questions.\ +\ +"Oh, do the best you can! Isn't it all the same?" The doctor noticed\ +Rostov coming upstairs.\ +\ +"What do you want, sir?" said the doctor. "What do you want? The bullets\ +having spared you, do you want to try typhus? This is a pesthouse, sir."\ +\ +"How so?" asked Rostov.\ +\ +"Typhus, sir. It's death to go in. Only we two, Makeev and I" (he\ +pointed to the assistant), "keep on here. Some five of us doctors have\ +died in this place.... When a new one comes he is done for in a week,"\ +said the doctor with evident satisfaction. "Prussian doctors have been\ +invited here, but our allies don't like it at all."\ +\ +Rostov explained that he wanted to see Major Denisov of the hussars, who\ +was wounded.\ +\ +"I don't know. I can't tell you, sir. Only think! I am alone in charge\ +of three hospitals with more than four hundred patients! It's well that\ +the charitable Prussian ladies send us two pounds of coffee and some\ +lint each month or we should be lost!" he laughed. "Four hundred, sir,\ +and they're always sending me fresh ones. There are four hundred? Eh?"\ +he asked, turning to the assistant.\ +\ +The assistant looked fagged out. He was evidently vexed and impatient\ +for the talkative doctor to go.\ +\ +"Major Denisov," Rostov said again. "He was wounded at Molliten."\ +\ +"Dead, I fancy. Eh, Makeev?" queried the doctor, in a tone of\ +indifference.\ +\ +The assistant, however, did not confirm the doctor's words.\ +\ +"Is he tall and with reddish hair?" asked the doctor.\ +\ +Rostov described Denisov's appearance.\ +\ +"There was one like that," said the doctor, as if pleased. "That one is\ +dead, I fancy. However, I'll look up our list. We had a list. Have you\ +got it, Makeev?"\ +\ +"Makar Alexeevich has the list," answered the assistant. "But if you'll\ +step into the officers' wards you'll see for yourself," he added,\ +turning to Rostov.\ +\ +"Ah, you'd better not go, sir," said the doctor, "or you may have to\ +stay here yourself."\ +\ +But Rostov bowed himself away from the doctor and asked the assistant to\ +show him the way.\ +\ +"Only don't blame me!" the doctor shouted up after him.\ +\ +Rostov and the assistant went into the dark corridor. The smell was so\ +strong there that Rostov held his nose and had to pause and collect his\ +strength before he could go on. A door opened to the right, and an\ +emaciated sallow man on crutches, barefoot and in underclothing, limped\ +out and, leaning against the doorpost, looked with glittering envious\ +eyes at those who were passing. Glancing in at the door, Rostov saw that\ +the sick and wounded were lying on the floor on straw and overcoats.\ +\ +"May I go in and look?"\ +\ +"What is there to see?" said the assistant.\ +\ +But, just because the assistant evidently did not want him to go in,\ +Rostov entered the soldiers' ward. The foul air, to which he had already\ +begun to get used in the corridor, was still stronger here. It was a\ +little different, more pungent, and one felt that this was where it\ +originated.\ +\ +In the long room, brightly lit up by the sun through the large windows,\ +the sick and wounded lay in two rows with their heads to the walls, and\ +leaving a passage in the middle. Most of them were unconscious and paid\ +no attention to the newcomers. Those who were conscious raised\ +themselves or lifted their thin yellow faces, and all looked intently at\ +Rostov with the same expression of hope, of relief, reproach, and envy\ +of another's health. Rostov went to the middle of the room and looking\ +through the open doors into the two adjoining rooms saw the same thing\ +there. He stood still, looking silently around. He had not at all\ +expected such a sight. Just before him, almost across the middle of the\ +passage on the bare floor, lay a sick man, probably a Cossack to judge\ +by the cut of his hair. The man lay on his back, his huge arms and legs\ +outstretched. His face was purple, his eyes were rolled back so that\ +only the whites were seen, and on his bare legs and arms which were\ +still red, the veins stood out like cords. He was knocking the back of\ +his head against the floor, hoarsely uttering some word which he kept\ +repeating. Rostov listened and made out the word. It was "drink, drink,\ +a drink!" Rostov glanced round, looking for someone who would put this\ +man back in his place and bring him water.\ +\ +"Who looks after the sick here?" he asked the assistant.\ +\ +Just then a commissariat soldier, a hospital orderly, came in from the\ +next room, marching stiffly, and drew up in front of Rostov.\ +\ +"Good day, your honor!" he shouted, rolling his eyes at Rostov and\ +evidently mistaking him for one of the hospital authorities.\ +\ +"Get him to his place and give him some water," said Rostov, pointing to\ +the Cossack.\ +\ +"Yes, your honor," the soldier replied complacently, and rolling his\ +eyes more than ever he drew himself up still straighter, but did not\ +move.\ +\ +"No, it's impossible to do anything here," thought Rostov, lowering his\ +eyes, and he was going out, but became aware of an intense look fixed on\ +him on his right, and he turned. Close to the corner, on an overcoat,\ +sat an old, unshaven, gray-bearded soldier as thin as a skeleton, with a\ +stern sallow face and eyes intently fixed on Rostov. The man's neighbor\ +on one side whispered something to him, pointing at Rostov, who noticed\ +that the old man wanted to speak to him. He drew nearer and saw that the\ +old man had only one leg bent under him, the other had been amputated\ +above the knee. His neighbor on the other side, who lay motionless some\ +distance from him with his head thrown back, was a young soldier with a\ +snub nose. His pale waxen face was still freckled and his eyes were\ +rolled back. Rostov looked at the young soldier and a cold chill ran\ +down his back.\ +\ +"Why, this one seems..." he began, turning to the assistant.\ +\ +"And how we've been begging, your honor," said the old soldier, his jaw\ +quivering. "He's been dead since morning. After all we're men, not\ +dogs."\ +\ +"I'll send someone at once. He shall be taken away--taken away at once,"\ +said the assistant hurriedly. "Let us go, your honor."\ +\ +"Yes, yes, let us go," said Rostov hastily, and lowering his eyes and\ +shrinking, he tried to pass unnoticed between the rows of reproachful\ +envious eyes that were fixed upon him, and went out of the room.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XVIII\ +\ +Going along the corridor, the assistant led Rostov to the officers'\ +wards, consisting of three rooms, the doors of which stood open. There\ +were beds in these rooms and the sick and wounded officers were lying or\ +sitting on them. Some were walking about the rooms in hospital dressing\ +gowns. The first person Rostov met in the officers' ward was a thin\ +little man with one arm, who was walking about the first room in a\ +nightcap and hospital dressing gown, with a pipe between his teeth.\ +Rostov looked at him, trying to remember where he had seen him before.\ +\ +"See where we've met again!" said the little man. "Tushin, Tushin, don't\ +you remember, who gave you a lift at Schon Grabern? And I've had a bit\ +cut off, you see..." he went on with a smile, pointing to the empty\ +sleeve of his dressing gown. "Looking for Vasili Dmitrich Denisov? My\ +neighbor," he added, when he heard who Rostov wanted. "Here, here," and\ +Tushin led him into the next room, from whence came sounds of several\ +laughing voices.\ +\ +"How can they laugh, or even live at all here?" thought Rostov, still\ +aware of that smell of decomposing flesh that had been so strong in the\ +soldiers' ward, and still seeming to see fixed on him those envious\ +looks which had followed him out from both sides, and the face of that\ +young soldier with eyes rolled back.\ +\ +Denisov lay asleep on his bed with his head under the blanket, though it\ +was nearly noon.\ +\ +"Ah, Wostov? How are you, how are you?" he called out, still in the same\ +voice as in the regiment, but Rostov noticed sadly that under this\ +habitual ease and animation some new, sinister, hidden feeling showed\ +itself in the expression of Denisov's face and the intonations of his\ +voice.\ +\ +His wound, though a slight one, had not yet healed even now, six weeks\ +after he had been hit. His face had the same swollen pallor as the faces\ +of the other hospital patients, but it was not this that struck Rostov.\ +What struck him was that Denisov did not seem glad to see him, and\ +smiled at him unnaturally. He did not ask about the regiment, nor about\ +the general state of affairs, and when Rostov spoke of these matters did\ +not listen.\ +\ +Rostov even noticed that Denisov did not like to be reminded of the\ +regiment, or in general of that other free life which was going on\ +outside the hospital. He seemed to try to forget that old life and was\ +only interested in the affair with the commissariat officers. On\ +Rostov's inquiry as to how the matter stood, he at once produced from\ +under his pillow a paper he had received from the commission and the\ +rough draft of his answer to it. He became animated when he began\ +reading his paper and specially drew Rostov's attention to the stinging\ +rejoinders he made to his enemies. His hospital companions, who had\ +gathered round Rostov--a fresh arrival from the world outside--gradually\ +began to disperse as soon as Denisov began reading his answer. Rostov\ +noticed by their faces that all those gentlemen had already heard that\ +story more than once and were tired of it. Only the man who had the next\ +bed, a stout Uhlan, continued to sit on his bed, gloomily frowning and\ +smoking a pipe, and little one-armed Tushin still listened, shaking his\ +head disapprovingly. In the middle of the reading, the Uhlan interrupted\ +Denisov.\ +\ +"But what I say is," he said, turning to Rostov, "it would be best\ +simply to petition the Emperor for pardon. They say great rewards will\ +now be distributed, and surely a pardon would be granted...."\ +\ +"Me petition the Empewo'!" exclaimed Denisov, in a voice to which he\ +tried hard to give the old energy and fire, but which sounded like an\ +expression of irritable impotence. "What for? If I were a wobber I would\ +ask mercy, but I'm being court-martialed for bwinging wobbers to book.\ +Let them twy me, I'm not afwaid of anyone. I've served the Tsar and my\ +countwy honowably and have not stolen! And am I to be degwaded?...\ +Listen, I'm w'iting to them stwaight. This is what I say: 'If I had\ +wobbed the Tweasuwy...'"\ +\ +"It's certainly well written," said Tushin, "but that's not the point,\ +Vasili Dmitrich," and he also turned to Rostov. "One has to submit, and\ +Vasili Dmitrich doesn't want to. You know the auditor told you it was a\ +bad business."\ +\ +"Well, let it be bad," said Denisov.\ +\ +"The auditor wrote out a petition for you," continued Tushin, "and you\ +ought to sign it and ask this gentleman to take it. No doubt he"\ +(indicating Rostov) "has connections on the staff. You won't find a\ +better opportunity."\ +\ +"Haven't I said I'm not going to gwovel?" Denisov interrupted him, went\ +on reading his paper.\ +\ +Rostov had not the courage to persuade Denisov, though he instinctively\ +felt that the way advised by Tushin and the other officers was the\ +safest, and though he would have been glad to be of service to Denisov.\ +He knew his stubborn will and straightforward hasty temper.\ +\ +When the reading of Denisov's virulent reply, which took more than an\ +hour, was over, Rostov said nothing, and he spent the rest of the day in\ +a most dejected state of mind amid Denisov's hospital comrades, who had\ +gathered round him, telling them what he knew and listening to their\ +stories. Denisov was moodily silent all the evening.\ +\ +Late in the evening, when Rostov was about to leave, he asked Denisov\ +whether he had no commission for him.\ +\ +"Yes, wait a bit," said Denisov, glancing round at the officers, and\ +taking his papers from under his pillow he went to the window, where he\ +had an inkpot, and sat down to write.\ +\ +"It seems it's no use knocking one's head against a wall!" he said,\ +coming from the window and giving Rostov a large envelope. In it was the\ +petition to the Emperor drawn up by the auditor, in which Denisov,\ +without alluding to the offenses of the commissariat officials, simply\ +asked for pardon.\ +\ +"Hand it in. It seems..."\ +\ +He did not finish, but gave a painfully unnatural smile.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XIX\ +\ +Having returned to the regiment and told the commander the state of\ +Denisov's affairs, Rostov rode to Tilsit with the letter to the Emperor.\ +\ +On the thirteenth of June the French and Russian Emperors arrived in\ +Tilsit. Boris Drubetskoy had asked the important personage on whom he\ +was in attendance, to include him in the suite appointed for the stay at\ +Tilsit.\ +\ +"I should like to see the great man," he said, alluding to Napoleon,\ +whom hitherto he, like everyone else, had always called Buonaparte.\ +\ +"You are speaking of Buonaparte?" asked the general, smiling.\ +\ +Boris looked at his general inquiringly and immediately saw that he was\ +being tested.\ +\ +"I am speaking, Prince, of the Emperor Napoleon," he replied. The\ +general patted him on the shoulder, with a smile.\ +\ +"You will go far," he said, and took him to Tilsit with him.\ +\ +Boris was among the few present at the Niemen on the day the two\ +Emperors met. He saw the raft, decorated with monograms, saw Napoleon\ +pass before the French Guards on the farther bank of the river, saw the\ +pensive face of the Emperor Alexander as he sat in silence in a tavern\ +on the bank of the Niemen awaiting Napoleon's arrival, saw both Emperors\ +get into boats, and saw how Napoleon--reaching the raft first--stepped\ +quickly forward to meet Alexander and held out his hand to him, and how\ +they both retired into the pavilion. Since he had begun to move in the\ +highest circles Boris had made it his habit to watch attentively all\ +that went on around him and to note it down. At the time of the meeting\ +at Tilsit he asked the names of those who had come with Napoleon and\ +about the uniforms they wore, and listened attentively to words spoken\ +by important personages. At the moment the Emperors went into the\ +pavilion he looked at his watch, and did not forget to look at it again\ +when Alexander came out. The interview had lasted an hour and fifty-\ +three minutes. He noted this down that same evening, among other facts\ +he felt to be of historic importance. As the Emperor's suite was a very\ +small one, it was a matter of great importance, for a man who valued his\ +success in the service, to be at Tilsit on the occasion of this\ +interview between the two Emperors, and having succeeded in this, Boris\ +felt that henceforth his position was fully assured. He had not only\ +become known, but people had grown accustomed to him and accepted him.\ +Twice he had executed commissions to the Emperor himself, so that the\ +latter knew his face, and all those at court, far from cold-shouldering\ +him as at first when they considered him a newcomer, would now have been\ +surprised had he been absent.\ +\ +Boris lodged with another adjutant, the Polish Count Zhilinski.\ +Zhilinski, a Pole brought up in Paris, was rich, and passionately fond\ +of the French, and almost every day of the stay at Tilsit, French\ +officers of the Guard and from French headquarters were dining and\ +lunching with him and Boris.\ +\ +On the evening of the twenty-fourth of June, Count Zhilinski arranged a\ +supper for his French friends. The guest of honor was an aide-de-camp of\ +Napoleon's, there were also several French officers of the Guard, and a\ +page of Napoleon's, a young lad of an old aristocratic French family.\ +That same day, Rostov, profiting by the darkness to avoid being\ +recognized in civilian dress, came to Tilsit and went to the lodging\ +occupied by Boris and Zhilinski.\ +\ +Rostov, in common with the whole army from which he came, was far from\ +having experienced the change of feeling toward Napoleon and the French-\ +-who from being foes had suddenly become friends--that had taken place\ +at headquarters and in Boris. In the army, Bonaparte and the French were\ +still regarded with mingled feelings of anger, contempt, and fear. Only\ +recently, talking with one of Platov's Cossack officers, Rostov had\ +argued that if Napoleon were taken prisoner he would be treated not as a\ +sovereign, but as a criminal. Quite lately, happening to meet a wounded\ +French colonel on the road, Rostov had maintained with heat that peace\ +was impossible between a legitimate sovereign and the criminal\ +Bonaparte. Rostov was therefore unpleasantly struck by the presence of\ +French officers in Boris' lodging, dressed in uniforms he had been\ +accustomed to see from quite a different point of view from the outposts\ +of the flank. As soon as he noticed a French officer, who thrust his\ +head out of the door, that warlike feeling of hostility which he always\ +experienced at the sight of the enemy suddenly seized him. He stopped at\ +the threshold and asked in Russian whether Drubetskoy lived there.\ +Boris, hearing a strange voice in the anteroom, came out to meet him. An\ +expression of annoyance showed itself for a moment on his face on first\ +recognizing Rostov.\ +\ +"Ah, it's you? Very glad, very glad to see you," he said, however,\ +coming toward him with a smile. But Rostov had noticed his first\ +impulse.\ +\ +"I've come at a bad time I think. I should not have come, but I have\ +business," he said coldly.\ +\ +"No, I only wonder how you managed to get away from your regiment. Dans\ +un moment je suis a vous," * he said, answering someone who called him.\ +\ +\ +* "In a minute I shall be at your disposal."\ +\ +"I see I'm intruding," Rostov repeated.\ +\ +The look of annoyance had already disappeared from Boris' face: having\ +evidently reflected and decided how to act, he very quietly took both\ +Rostov's hands and led him into the next room. His eyes, looking\ +serenely and steadily at Rostov, seemed to be veiled by something, as if\ +screened by blue spectacles of conventionality. So it seemed to Rostov.\ +\ +"Oh, come now! As if you could come at a wrong time!" said Boris, and he\ +led him into the room where the supper table was laid and introduced him\ +to his guests, explaining that he was not a civilian, but an hussar\ +officer, and an old friend of his.\ +\ +"Count Zhilinski--le Comte N. N.--le Capitaine S. S.," said he, naming\ +his guests. Rostov looked frowningly at the Frenchmen, bowed\ +reluctantly, and remained silent.\ +\ +Zhilinski evidently did not receive this new Russian person very\ +willingly into his circle and did not speak to Rostov. Boris did not\ +appear to notice the constraint the newcomer produced and, with the same\ +pleasant composure and the same veiled look in his eyes with which he\ +had met Rostov, tried to enliven the conversation. One of the Frenchmen,\ +with the politeness characteristic of his countrymen, addressed the\ +obstinately taciturn Rostov, saying that the latter had probably come to\ +Tilsit to see the Emperor.\ +\ +"No, I came on business," replied Rostov, briefly.\ +\ +Rostov had been out of humor from the moment he noticed the look of\ +dissatisfaction on Boris' face, and as always happens to those in a bad\ +humor, it seemed to him that everyone regarded him with aversion and\ +that he was in everybody's way. He really was in their way, for he alone\ +took no part in the conversation which again became general. The looks\ +the visitors cast on him seemed to say: "And what is he sitting here\ +for?" He rose and went up to Boris.\ +\ +"Anyhow, I'm in your way," he said in a low tone. "Come and talk over my\ +business and I'll go away."\ +\ +"Oh, no, not at all," said Boris. "But if you are tired, come and lie\ +down in my room and have a rest."\ +\ +"Yes, really..."\ +\ +They went into the little room where Boris slept. Rostov, without\ +sitting down, began at once, irritably (as if Boris were to blame in\ +some way) telling him about Denisov's affair, asking him whether,\ +through his general, he could and would intercede with the Emperor on\ +Denisov's behalf and get Denisov's petition handed in. When he and Boris\ +were alone, Rostov felt for the first time that he could not look Boris\ +in the face without a sense of awkwardness. Boris, with one leg crossed\ +over the other and stroking his left hand with the slender fingers of\ +his right, listened to Rostov as a general listens to the report of a\ +subordinate, now looking aside and now gazing straight into Rostov's\ +eyes with the same veiled look. Each time this happened Rostov felt\ +uncomfortable and cast down his eyes.\ +\ +"I have heard of such cases and know that His Majesty is very severe in\ +such affairs. I think it would be best not to bring it before the\ +Emperor, but to apply to the commander of the corps.... But in general,\ +I think..."\ +\ +"So you don't want to do anything? Well then, say so!" Rostov almost\ +shouted, not looking Boris in the face.\ +\ +Boris smiled.\ +\ +"On the contrary, I will do what I can. Only I thought..."\ +\ +At that moment Zhilinski's voice was heard calling Boris.\ +\ +"Well then, go, go, go..." said Rostov, and refusing supper and\ +remaining alone in the little room, he walked up and down for a long\ +time, hearing the lighthearted French conversation from the next room.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XX\ +\ +Rostov had come to Tilsit the day least suitable for a petition on\ +Denisov's behalf. He could not himself go to the general in attendance\ +as he was in mufti and had come to Tilsit without permission to do so,\ +and Boris, even had he wished to, could not have done so on the\ +following day. On that day, June 27, the preliminaries of peace were\ +signed. The Emperors exchanged decorations: Alexander received the Cross\ +of the Legion of Honor and Napoleon the Order of St. Andrew of the First\ +Degree, and a dinner had been arranged for the evening, given by a\ +battalion of the French Guards to the Preobrazhensk battalion. The\ +Emperors were to be present at that banquet.\ +\ +Rostov felt so ill at ease and uncomfortable with Boris that, when the\ +latter looked in after supper, he pretended to be asleep, and early next\ +morning went away, avoiding Boris. In his civilian clothes and a round\ +hat, he wandered about the town, staring at the French and their\ +uniforms and at the streets and houses where the Russian and French\ +Emperors were staying. In a square he saw tables being set up and\ +preparations made for the dinner; he saw the Russian and French colors\ +draped from side to side of the streets, with huge monograms A and N. In\ +the windows of the houses also flags and bunting were displayed.\ +\ +"Boris doesn't want to help me and I don't want to ask him. That's\ +settled," thought Nicholas. "All is over between us, but I won't leave\ +here without having done all I can for Denisov and certainly not without\ +getting his letter to the Emperor. The Emperor!... He is here!" thought\ +Rostov, who had unconsciously returned to the house where Alexander\ +lodged.\ +\ +Saddled horses were standing before the house and the suite were\ +assembling, evidently preparing for the Emperor to come out.\ +\ +"I may see him at any moment," thought Rostov. "If only I were to hand\ +the letter direct to him and tell him all... could they really arrest me\ +for my civilian clothes? Surely not! He would understand on whose side\ +justice lies. He understands everything, knows everything. Who can be\ +more just, more magnanimous than he? And even if they did arrest me for\ +being here, what would it matter?" thought he, looking at an officer who\ +was entering the house the Emperor occupied. "After all, people do go\ +in.... It's all nonsense! I'll go in and hand the letter to the Emperor\ +myself so much the worse for Drubetskoy who drives me to it!" And\ +suddenly with a determination he himself did not expect, Rostov felt for\ +the letter in his pocket and went straight to the house.\ +\ +"No, I won't miss my opportunity now, as I did after Austerlitz," he\ +thought, expecting every moment to meet the monarch, and conscious of\ +the blood that rushed to his heart at the thought. "I will fall at his\ +feet and beseech him. He will lift me up, will listen, and will even\ +thank me. 'I am happy when I can do good, but to remedy injustice is the\ +greatest happiness,'" Rostov fancied the sovereign saying. And passing\ +people who looked after him with curiosity, he entered the porch of the\ +Emperor's house.\ +\ +A broad staircase led straight up from the entry, and to the right he\ +saw a closed door. Below, under the staircase, was a door leading to the\ +lower floor.\ +\ +"Whom do you want?" someone inquired.\ +\ +"To hand in a letter, a petition, to His Majesty," said Nicholas, with a\ +tremor in his voice.\ +\ +"A petition? This way, to the officer on duty" (he was shown the door\ +leading downstairs), "only it won't be accepted."\ +\ +On hearing this indifferent voice, Rostov grew frightened at what he was\ +doing; the thought of meeting the Emperor at any moment was so\ +fascinating and consequently so alarming that he was ready to run away,\ +but the official who had questioned him opened the door, and Rostov\ +entered.\ +\ +A short stout man of about thirty, in white breeches and high boots and\ +a batiste shirt that he had evidently only just put on, standing in that\ +room, and his valet was buttoning on to the back of his breeches a new\ +pair of handsome silk-embroidered braces that, for some reason,\ +attracted Rostov's attention. This man was speaking to someone in the\ +adjoining room.\ +\ +"A good figure and in her first bloom," he was saying, but on seeing\ +Rostov, he stopped short and frowned.\ +\ +"What is it? A petition?"\ +\ +"What is it?" asked the person in the other room.\ +\ +"Another petitioner," answered the man with the braces.\ +\ +"Tell him to come later. He'll be coming out directly, we must go."\ +\ +"Later... later! Tomorrow. It's too late..."\ +\ +Rostov turned and was about to go, but the man in the braces stopped\ +him.\ +\ +"Whom have you come from? Who are you?"\ +\ +"I come from Major Denisov," answered Rostov.\ +\ +"Are you an officer?"\ +\ +"Lieutenant Count Rostov."\ +\ +"What audacity! Hand it in through your commander. And go along with\ +you... go," and he continued to put on the uniform the valet handed him.\ +\ +Rostov went back into the hall and noticed that in the porch there were\ +many officers and generals in full parade uniform, whom he had to pass.\ +\ +Cursing his temerity, his heart sinking at the thought of finding\ +himself at any moment face to face with the Emperor and being put to\ +shame and arrested in his presence, fully alive now to the impropriety\ +of his conduct and repenting of it, Rostov, with downcast eyes, was\ +making his way out of the house through the brilliant suite when a\ +familiar voice called him and a hand detained him.\ +\ +"What are you doing here, sir, in civilian dress?" asked a deep voice.\ +\ +It was a cavalry general who had obtained the Emperor's special favor\ +during this campaign, and who had formerly commanded the division in\ +which Rostov was serving.\ +\ +Rostov, in dismay, began justifying himself, but seeing the kindly,\ +jocular face of the general, he took him aside and in an excited voice\ +told him the whole affair, asking him to intercede for Denisov, whom the\ +general knew. Having heard Rostov to the end, the general shook his head\ +gravely.\ +\ +"I'm sorry, sorry for that fine fellow. Give me the letter."\ +\ +Hardly had Rostov handed him the letter and finished explaining\ +Denisov's case, when hasty steps and the jingling of spurs were heard on\ +the stairs, and the general, leaving him, went to the porch. The\ +gentlemen of the Emperor's suite ran down the stairs and went to their\ +horses. Hayne, the same groom who had been at Austerlitz, led up the\ +Emperor's horse, and the faint creak of a footstep Rostov knew at once\ +was heard on the stairs. Forgetting the danger of being recognized,\ +Rostov went close to the porch, together with some inquisitive\ +civilians, and again, after two years, saw those features he adored:\ +that same face and same look and step, and the same union of majesty and\ +mildness.... And the feeling of enthusiasm and love for his sovereign\ +rose again in Rostov's soul in all its old force. In the uniform of the\ +Preobrazhensk regiment--white chamois-leather breeches and high boots--\ +and wearing a star Rostov did not know (it was that of the Legion\ +d'honneur), the monarch came out into the porch, putting on his gloves\ +and carrying his hat under his arm. He stopped and looked about him,\ +brightening everything around by his glance. He spoke a few words to\ +some of the generals, and, recognizing the former commander of Rostov's\ +division, smiled and beckoned to him.\ +\ +All the suite drew back and Rostov saw the general talking for some time\ +to the Emperor.\ +\ +The Emperor said a few words to him and took a step toward his horse.\ +Again the crowd of members of the suite and street gazers (among whom\ +was Rostov) moved nearer to the Emperor. Stopping beside his horse, with\ +his hand on the saddle, the Emperor turned to the cavalry general and\ +said in a loud voice, evidently wishing to be heard by all:\ +\ +"I cannot do it, General. I cannot, because the law is stronger than I,"\ +and he raised his foot to the stirrup.\ +\ +The general bowed his head respectfully, and the monarch mounted and\ +rode down the street at a gallop. Beside himself with enthusiasm, Rostov\ +ran after him with the crowd.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XXI\ +\ +The Emperor rode to the square where, facing one another, a battalion of\ +the Preobrazhensk regiment stood on the right and a battalion of the\ +French Guards in their bearskin caps on the left.\ +\ +As the Tsar rode up to one flank of the battalions, which presented\ +arms, another group of horsemen galloped up to the opposite flank, and\ +at the head of them Rostov recognized Napoleon. It could be no one else.\ +He came at a gallop, wearing a small hat, a blue uniform open over a\ +white vest, and the St. Andrew ribbon over his shoulder. He was riding a\ +very fine thoroughbred gray Arab horse with a crimson gold-embroidered\ +saddlecloth. On approaching Alexander he raised his hat, and as he did\ +so, Rostov, with his cavalryman's eye, could not help noticing that\ +Napoleon did not sit well or firmly in the saddle. The battalions\ +shouted "Hurrah!" and "Vive l'Empereur!" Napoleon said something to\ +Alexander, and both Emperors dismounted and took each other's hands.\ +Napoleon's face wore an unpleasant and artificial smile. Alexander was\ +saying something affable to him.\ +\ +In spite of the trampling of the French gendarmes' horses, which were\ +pushing back the crowd, Rostov kept his eyes on every movement of\ +Alexander and Bonaparte. It struck him as a surprise that Alexander\ +treated Bonaparte as an equal and that the latter was quite at ease with\ +the Tsar, as if such relations with an Emperor were an everyday matter\ +to him.\ +\ +Alexander and Napoleon, with the long train of their suites, approached\ +the right flank of the Preobrazhensk battalion and came straight up to\ +the crowd standing there. The crowd unexpectedly found itself so close\ +to the Emperors that Rostov, standing in the front row, was afraid he\ +might be recognized.\ +\ +"Sire, I ask your permission to present the Legion of Honor to the\ +bravest of your soldiers," said a sharp, precise voice, articulating\ +every letter.\ +\ +This was said by the undersized Napoleon, looking up straight into\ +Alexander's eyes. Alexander listened attentively to what was said to him\ +and, bending his head, smiled pleasantly.\ +\ +"To him who has borne himself most bravely in this last war," added\ +Napoleon, accentuating each syllable, as with a composure and assurance\ +exasperating to Rostov, he ran his eyes over the Russian ranks drawn up\ +before him, who all presented arms with their eyes fixed on their\ +Emperor.\ +\ +"Will Your Majesty allow me to consult the colonel?" said Alexander and\ +took a few hasty steps toward Prince Kozlovski, the commander of the\ +battalion.\ +\ +Bonaparte meanwhile began taking the glove off his small white hand,\ +tore it in doing so, and threw it away. An aide-de-camp behind him\ +rushed forward and picked it up.\ +\ +"To whom shall it be given?" the Emperor Alexander asked Koslovski, in\ +Russian in a low voice.\ +\ +"To whomever Your Majesty commands."\ +\ +The Emperor knit his brows with dissatisfaction and, glancing back,\ +remarked:\ +\ +"But we must give him an answer."\ +\ +Kozlovski scanned the ranks resolutely and included Rostov in his\ +scrutiny.\ +\ +"Can it be me?" thought Rostov.\ +\ +"Lazarev!" the colonel called, with a frown, and Lazarev, the first\ +soldier in the rank, stepped briskly forward.\ +\ +"Where are you off to? Stop here!" voices whispered to Lazarev who did\ +not know where to go. Lazarev stopped, casting a sidelong look at his\ +colonel in alarm. His face twitched, as often happens to soldiers called\ +before the ranks.\ +\ +Napoleon slightly turned his head, and put his plump little hand out\ +behind him as if to take something. The members of his suite, guessing\ +at once what he wanted, moved about and whispered as they passed\ +something from one to another, and a page--the same one Rostov had seen\ +the previous evening at Boris'--ran forward and, bowing respectfully\ +over the outstretched hand and not keeping it waiting a moment, laid in\ +it an Order on a red ribbon. Napoleon, without looking, pressed two\ +fingers together and the badge was between them. Then he approached\ +Lazarev (who rolled his eyes and persistently gazed at his own monarch),\ +looked round at the Emperor Alexander to imply that what he was now\ +doing was done for the sake of his ally, and the small white hand\ +holding the Order touched one of Lazarev's buttons. It was as if\ +Napoleon knew that it was only necessary for his hand to deign to touch\ +that soldier's breast for the soldier to be forever happy, rewarded, and\ +distinguished from everyone else in the world. Napoleon merely laid the\ +cross on Lazarev's breast and, dropping his hand, turned toward\ +Alexander as though sure that the cross would adhere there. And it\ +really did.\ +\ +Officious hands, Russian and French, immediately seized the cross and\ +fastened it to the uniform. Lazarev glanced morosely at the little man\ +with white hands who was doing something to him and, still standing\ +motionless presenting arms, looked again straight into Alexander's eyes,\ +as if asking whether he should stand there, or go away, or do something\ +else. But receiving no orders, he remained for some time in that rigid\ +position.\ +\ +The Emperors remounted and rode away. The Preobrazhensk battalion,\ +breaking rank, mingled with the French Guards and sat down at the tables\ +prepared for them.\ +\ +Lazarev sat in the place of honor. Russian and French officers embraced\ +him, congratulated him, and pressed his hands. Crowds of officers and\ +civilians drew near merely to see him. A rumble of Russian and French\ +voices and laughter filled the air round the tables in the square. Two\ +officers with flushed faces, looking cheerful and happy, passed by\ +Rostov.\ +\ +"What d'you think of the treat? All on silver plate," one of them was\ +saying. "Have you seen Lazarev?"\ +\ +"I have."\ +\ +"Tomorrow, I hear, the Preobrazhenskis will give them a dinner."\ +\ +"Yes, but what luck for Lazarev! Twelve hundred francs' pension for\ +life."\ +\ +"Here's a cap, lads!" shouted a Preobrazhensk soldier, donning a shaggy\ +French cap.\ +\ +"It's a fine thing! First-rate!"\ +\ +"Have you heard the password?" asked one Guards' officer of another.\ +"The day before yesterday it was 'Napoleon, France, bravoure';\ +yesterday, 'Alexandre, Russie, grandeur.' One day our Emperor gives it\ +and next day Napoleon. Tomorrow our Emperor will send a St. George's\ +Cross to the bravest of the French Guards. It has to be done. He must\ +respond in kind."\ +\ +Boris, too, with his friend Zhilinski, came to see the Preobrazhensk\ +banquet. On his way back, he noticed Rostov standing by the corner of a\ +house.\ +\ +"Rostov! How d'you do? We missed one another," he said, and could not\ +refrain from asking what was the matter, so strangely dismal and\ +troubled was Rostov's face.\ +\ +"Nothing, nothing," replied Rostov.\ +\ +"You'll call round?"\ +\ +"Yes, I will."\ +\ +Rostov stood at that corner for a long time, watching the feast from a\ +distance. In his mind, a painful process was going on which he could not\ +bring to a conclusion. Terrible doubts rose in his soul. Now he\ +remembered Denisov with his changed expression, his submission, and the\ +whole hospital, with arms and legs torn off and its dirt and disease. So\ +vividly did he recall that hospital stench of dead flesh that he looked\ +round to see where the smell came from. Next he thought of that self-\ +satisfied Bonaparte, with his small white hand, who was now an Emperor,\ +liked and respected by Alexander. Then why those severed arms and legs\ +and those dead men?... Then again he thought of Lazarev rewarded and\ +Denisov punished and unpardoned. He caught himself harboring such\ +strange thoughts that he was frightened.\ +\ +The smell of the food the Preobrazhenskis were eating and a sense of\ +hunger recalled him from these reflections; he had to get something to\ +eat before going away. He went to a hotel he had noticed that morning.\ +There he found so many people, among them officers who, like himself,\ +had come in civilian clothes, that he had difficulty in getting a\ +dinner. Two officers of his own division joined him. The conversation\ +naturally turned on the peace. The officers, his comrades, like most of\ +the army, were dissatisfied with the peace concluded after the battle of\ +Friedland. They said that had we held out a little longer Napoleon would\ +have been done for, as his troops had neither provisions nor ammunition.\ +Nicholas ate and drank (chiefly the latter) in silence. He finished a\ +couple of bottles of wine by himself. The process in his mind went on\ +tormenting him without reaching a conclusion. He feared to give way to\ +his thoughts, yet could not get rid of them. Suddenly, on one of the\ +officers' saying that it was humiliating to look at the French, Rostov\ +began shouting with uncalled-for wrath, and therefore much to the\ +surprise of the officers:\ +\ +"How can you judge what's best?" he cried, the blood suddenly rushing to\ +his face. "How can you judge the Emperor's actions? What right have we\ +to argue? We cannot comprehend either the Emperor's aims or his\ +actions!"\ +\ +"But I never said a word about the Emperor!" said the officer,\ +justifying himself, and unable to understand Rostov's outburst, except\ +on the supposition that he was drunk.\ +\ +But Rostov did not listen to him.\ +\ +"We are not diplomatic officials, we are soldiers and nothing more," he\ +went on. "If we are ordered to die, we must die. If we're punished, it\ +means that we have deserved it, it's not for us to judge. If the Emperor\ +pleases to recognize Bonaparte as Emperor and to conclude an alliance\ +with him, it means that that is the right thing to do. If once we begin\ +judging and arguing about everything, nothing sacred will be left! That\ +way we shall be saying there is no God--nothing!" shouted Nicholas,\ +banging the table--very little to the point as it seemed to his\ +listeners, but quite relevantly to the course of his own thoughts.\ +\ +"Our business is to do our duty, to fight and not to think! That's\ +all...." said he.\ +\ +"And to drink," said one of the officers, not wishing to quarrel.\ +\ +"Yes, and to drink," assented Nicholas. "Hullo there! Another bottle!"\ +he shouted.\ +\ +In 1808 the Emperor Alexander went to Erfurt for a fresh interview with\ +the Emperor Napoleon, and in the upper circles of Petersburg there was\ +much talk of the grandeur of this important meeting.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XXII\ +\ +In 1809 the intimacy between "the world's two arbiters," as Napoleon and\ +Alexander were called, was such that when Napoleon declared war on\ +Austria a Russian corps crossed the frontier to co-operate with our old\ +enemy Bonaparte against our old ally the Emperor of Austria, and in\ +court circles the possibility of marriage between Napoleon and one of\ +Alexander's sisters was spoken of. But besides considerations of foreign\ +policy, the attention of Russian society was at that time keenly\ +directed on the internal changes that were being undertaken in all the\ +departments of government.\ +\ +Life meanwhile--real life, with its essential interests of health and\ +sickness, toil and rest, and its intellectual interests in thought,\ +science, poetry, music, love, friendship, hatred, and passions--went on\ +as usual, independently of and apart from political friendship or enmity\ +with Napoleon Bonaparte and from all the schemes of reconstruction.\ +\ +BOOK SIX: 1808 - 10\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER I\ +\ +Prince Andrew had spent two years continuously in the country.\ +\ +All the plans Pierre had attempted on his estates--and constantly\ +changing from one thing to another had never accomplished--were carried\ +out by Prince Andrew without display and without perceptible difficulty.\ +\ +He had in the highest degree a practical tenacity which Pierre lacked,\ +and without fuss or strain on his part this set things going.\ +\ +On one of his estates the three hundred serfs were liberated and became\ +free agricultural laborers--this being one of the first examples of the\ +kind in Russia. On other estates the serfs' compulsory labor was\ +commuted for a quitrent. A trained midwife was engaged for Bogucharovo\ +at his expense, and a priest was paid to teach reading and writing to\ +the children of the peasants and household serfs.\ +\ +Prince Andrew spent half his time at Bald Hills with his father and his\ +son, who was still in the care of nurses. The other half he spent in\ +"Bogucharovo Cloister," as his father called Prince Andrew's estate.\ +Despite the indifference to the affairs of the world he had expressed to\ +Pierre, he diligently followed all that went on, received many books,\ +and to his surprise noticed that when he or his father had visitors from\ +Petersburg, the very vortex of life, these people lagged behind himself-\ +-who never left the country--in knowledge of what was happening in home\ +and foreign affairs.\ +\ +Besides being occupied with his estates and reading a great variety of\ +books, Prince Andrew was at this time busy with a critical survey of our\ +last two unfortunate campaigns, and with drawing up a proposal for a\ +reform of the army rules and regulations.\ +\ +In the spring of 1809 he went to visit the Ryazan estates which had been\ +inherited by his son, whose guardian he was.\ +\ +Warmed by the spring sunshine he sat in the caleche looking at the new\ +grass, the first leaves on the birches, and the first puffs of white\ +spring clouds floating across the clear blue sky. He was not thinking of\ +anything, but looked absent-mindedly and cheerfully from side to side.\ +\ +They crossed the ferry where he had talked with Pierre the year before.\ +They went through the muddy village, past threshing floors and green\ +fields of winter rye, downhill where snow still lodged near the bridge,\ +uphill where the clay had been liquefied by the rain, past strips of\ +stubble land and bushes touched with green here and there, and into a\ +birch forest growing on both sides of the road. In the forest it was\ +almost hot, no wind could be felt. The birches with their sticky green\ +leaves were motionless, and lilac-colored flowers and the first blades\ +of green grass were pushing up and lifting last year's leaves. The\ +coarse evergreen color of the small fir trees scattered here and there\ +among the birches was an unpleasant reminder of winter. On entering the\ +forest the horses began to snort and sweated visibly.\ +\ +Peter the footman made some remark to the coachman; the latter assented.\ +But apparently the coachman's sympathy was not enough for Peter, and he\ +turned on the box toward his master.\ +\ +"How pleasant it is, your excellency!" he said with a respectful smile.\ +\ +"What?"\ +\ +"It's pleasant, your excellency!"\ +\ +\ +"What is he talking about?" thought Prince Andrew. "Oh, the spring, I\ +suppose," he thought as he turned round. "Yes, really everything is\ +green already.... How early! The birches and cherry and alders too are\ +coming out.... But the oaks show no sign yet. Ah, here is one oak!"\ +\ +At the edge of the road stood an oak. Probably ten times the age of the\ +birches that formed the forest, it was ten times as thick and twice as\ +tall as they. It was an enormous tree, its girth twice as great as a man\ +could embrace, and evidently long ago some of its branches had been\ +broken off and its bark scarred. With its huge ungainly limbs sprawling\ +unsymmetrically, and its gnarled hands and fingers, it stood an aged,\ +stern, and scornful monster among the smiling birch trees. Only the\ +dead-looking evergreen firs dotted about in the forest, and this oak,\ +refused to yield to the charm of spring or notice either the spring or\ +the sunshine.\ +\ +"Spring, love, happiness!" this oak seemed to say. "Are you not weary of\ +that stupid, meaningless, constantly repeated fraud? Always the same and\ +always a fraud? There is no spring, no sun, no happiness! Look at those\ +cramped dead firs, ever the same, and at me too, sticking out my broken\ +and barked fingers just where they have grown, whether from my back or\ +my sides: as they have grown so I stand, and I do not believe in your\ +hopes and your lies."\ +\ +As he passed through the forest Prince Andrew turned several times to\ +look at that oak, as if expecting something from it. Under the oak, too,\ +were flowers and grass, but it stood among them scowling, rigid,\ +misshapen, and grim as ever.\ +\ +"Yes, the oak is right, a thousand times right," thought Prince Andrew.\ +"Let others--the young--yield afresh to that fraud, but we know life,\ +our life is finished!"\ +\ +A whole sequence of new thoughts, hopeless but mournfully pleasant, rose\ +in his soul in connection with that tree. During this journey he, as it\ +were, considered his life afresh and arrived at his old conclusion,\ +restful in its hopelessness: that it was not for him to begin anything\ +anew--but that he must live out his life, content to do no harm, and not\ +disturbing himself or desiring anything.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER II\ +\ +Prince Andrew had to see the Marshal of the Nobility for the district in\ +connection with the affairs of the Ryazan estate of which he was\ +trustee. This Marshal was Count Ilya Rostov, and in the middle of May\ +Prince Andrew went to visit him.\ +\ +It was now hot spring weather. The whole forest was already clothed in\ +green. It was dusty and so hot that on passing near water one longed to\ +bathe.\ +\ +Prince Andrew, depressed and preoccupied with the business about which\ +he had to speak to the Marshal, was driving up the avenue in the grounds\ +of the Rostovs' house at Otradnoe. He heard merry girlish cries behind\ +some trees on the right and saw a group of girls running to cross the\ +path of his caleche. Ahead of the rest and nearer to him ran a dark-\ +haired, remarkably slim, pretty girl in a yellow chintz dress, with a\ +white handkerchief on her head from under which loose locks of hair\ +escaped. The girl was shouting something but, seeing that he was a\ +stranger, ran back laughing without looking at him.\ +\ +Suddenly, he did not know why, he felt a pang. The day was so beautiful,\ +the sun so bright, everything around so gay, but that slim pretty girl\ +did not know, or wish to know, of his existence and was contented and\ +cheerful in her own separate--probably foolish--but bright and happy\ +life. "What is she so glad about? What is she thinking of? Not of the\ +military regulations or of the arrangement of the Ryazan serfs'\ +quitrents. Of what is she thinking? Why is she so happy?" Prince Andrew\ +asked himself with instinctive curiosity.\ +\ +In 1809 Count Ilya Rostov was living at Otradnoe just as he had done in\ +former years, that is, entertaining almost the whole province with\ +hunts, theatricals, dinners, and music. He was glad to see Prince\ +Andrew, as he was to see any new visitor, and insisted on his staying\ +the night.\ +\ +During the dull day, in the course of which he was entertained by his\ +elderly hosts and by the more important of the visitors (the old count's\ +house was crowded on account of an approaching name day), Prince Andrew\ +repeatedly glanced at Natasha, gay and laughing among the younger\ +members of the company, and asked himself each time, "What is she\ +thinking about? Why is she so glad?"\ +\ +That night, alone in new surroundings, he was long unable to sleep. He\ +read awhile and then put out his candle, but relit it. It was hot in the\ +room, the inside shutters of which were closed. He was cross with the\ +stupid old man (as he called Rostov), who had made him stay by assuring\ +him that some necessary documents had not yet arrived from town, and he\ +was vexed with himself for having stayed.\ +\ +He got up and went to the window to open it. As soon as he opened the\ +shutters the moonlight, as if it had long been watching for this, burst\ +into the room. He opened the casement. The night was fresh, bright, and\ +very still. Just before the window was a row of pollard trees, looking\ +black on one side and with a silvery light on the other. Beneath the\ +trees grew some kind of lush, wet, bushy vegetation with silver-lit\ +leaves and stems here and there. Farther back beyond the dark trees a\ +roof glittered with dew, to the right was a leafy tree with brilliantly\ +white trunk and branches, and above it shone the moon, nearly at its\ +full, in a pale, almost starless, spring sky. Prince Andrew leaned his\ +elbows on the window ledge and his eyes rested on that sky.\ +\ +His room was on the first floor. Those in the rooms above were also\ +awake. He heard female voices overhead.\ +\ +"Just once more," said a girlish voice above him which Prince Andrew\ +recognized at once.\ +\ +"But when are you coming to bed?" replied another voice.\ +\ +"I won't, I can't sleep, what's the use? Come now for the last time."\ +\ +\ +Two girlish voices sang a musical passage--the end of some song.\ +\ +"Oh, how lovely! Now go to sleep, and there's an end of it."\ +\ +"You go to sleep, but I can't," said the first voice, coming nearer to\ +the window. She was evidently leaning right out, for the rustle of her\ +dress and even her breathing could be heard. Everything was stone-still,\ +like the moon and its light and the shadows. Prince Andrew, too, dared\ +not stir, for fear of betraying his unintentional presence.\ +\ +"Sonya! Sonya!" he again heard the first speaker. "Oh, how can you\ +sleep? Only look how glorious it is! Ah, how glorious! Do wake up,\ +Sonya!" she said almost with tears in her voice. "There never, never was\ +such a lovely night before!"\ +\ +Sonya made some reluctant reply.\ +\ +"Do just come and see what a moon!... Oh, how lovely! Come here....\ +Darling, sweetheart, come here! There, you see? I feel like sitting down\ +on my heels, putting my arms round my knees like this, straining tight,\ +as tight as possible, and flying away! Like this...."\ +\ +"Take care, you'll fall out."\ +\ +He heard the sound of a scuffle and Sonya's disapproving voice: "It's\ +past one o'clock."\ +\ +"Oh, you only spoil things for me. All right, go, go!"\ +\ +Again all was silent, but Prince Andrew knew she was still sitting\ +there. From time to time he heard a soft rustle and at times a sigh.\ +\ +"O God, O God! What does it mean?" she suddenly exclaimed. "To bed then,\ +if it must be!" and she slammed the casement.\ +\ +"For her I might as well not exist!" thought Prince Andrew while he\ +listened to her voice, for some reason expecting yet fearing that she\ +might say something about him. "There she is again! As if it were on\ +purpose," thought he.\ +\ +In his soul there suddenly arose such an unexpected turmoil of youthful\ +thoughts and hopes, contrary to the whole tenor of his life, that unable\ +to explain his condition to himself he lay down and fell asleep at once.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER III\ +\ +Next morning, having taken leave of no one but the count, and not\ +waiting for the ladies to appear, Prince Andrew set off for home.\ +\ +It was already the beginning of June when on his return journey he drove\ +into the birch forest where the gnarled old oak had made so strange and\ +memorable an impression on him. In the forest the harness bells sounded\ +yet more muffled than they had done six weeks before, for now all was\ +thick, shady, and dense, and the young firs dotted about in the forest\ +did not jar on the general beauty but, lending themselves to the mood\ +around, were delicately green with fluffy young shoots.\ +\ +The whole day had been hot. Somewhere a storm was gathering, but only a\ +small cloud had scattered some raindrops lightly, sprinkling the road\ +and the sappy leaves. The left side of the forest was dark in the shade,\ +the right side glittered in the sunlight, wet and shiny and scarcely\ +swayed by the breeze. Everything was in blossom, the nightingales\ +trilled, and their voices reverberated now near, now far away.\ +\ +"Yes, here in this forest was that oak with which I agreed," thought\ +Prince Andrew. "But where is it?" he again wondered, gazing at the left\ +side of the road, and without recognizing it he looked with admiration\ +at the very oak he sought. The old oak, quite transfigured, spreading\ +out a canopy of sappy dark-green foliage, stood rapt and slightly\ +trembling in the rays of the evening sun. Neither gnarled fingers nor\ +old scars nor old doubts and sorrows were any of them in evidence now.\ +Through the hard century-old bark, even where there were no twigs,\ +leaves had sprouted such as one could hardly believe the old veteran\ +could have produced.\ +\ +"Yes, it is the same oak," thought Prince Andrew, and all at once he was\ +seized by an unreasoning springtime feeling of joy and renewal. All the\ +best moments of his life suddenly rose to his memory. Austerlitz with\ +the lofty heavens, his wife's dead reproachful face, Pierre at the\ +ferry, that girl thrilled by the beauty of the night, and that night\ +itself and the moon, and.... all this rushed suddenly to his mind.\ +\ +"No, life is not over at thirty-one!" Prince Andrew suddenly decided\ +finally and decisively. "It is not enough for me to know what I have in\ +me--everyone must know it: Pierre, and that young girl who wanted to fly\ +away into the sky, everyone must know me, so that my life may not be\ +lived for myself alone while others live so apart from it, but so that\ +it may be reflected in them all, and they and I may live in harmony!"\ +\ +On reaching home Prince Andrew decided to go to Petersburg that autumn\ +and found all sorts of reasons for this decision. A whole series of\ +sensible and logical considerations showing it to be essential for him\ +to go to Petersburg, and even to re-enter the service, kept springing up\ +in his mind. He could not now understand how he could ever even have\ +doubted the necessity of taking an active share in life, just as a month\ +before he had not understood how the idea of leaving the quiet country\ +could ever enter his head. It now seemed clear to him that all his\ +experience of life must be senselessly wasted unless he applied it to\ +some kind of work and again played an active part in life. He did not\ +even remember how formerly, on the strength of similar wretched logical\ +arguments, it had seemed obvious that he would be degrading himself if\ +he now, after the lessons he had had in life, allowed himself to believe\ +in the possibility of being useful and in the possibility of happiness\ +or love. Now reason suggested quite the opposite. After that journey to\ +Ryazan he found the country dull; his former pursuits no longer\ +interested him, and often when sitting alone in his study he got up,\ +went to the mirror, and gazed a long time at his own face. Then he would\ +turn away to the portrait of his dead Lise, who with hair curled a la\ +grecque looked tenderly and gaily at him out of the gilt frame. She did\ +not now say those former terrible words to him, but looked simply,\ +merrily, and inquisitively at him. And Prince Andrew, crossing his arms\ +behind him, long paced the room, now frowning, now smiling, as he\ +reflected on those irrational, inexpressible thoughts, secret as a\ +crime, which altered his whole life and were connected with Pierre, with\ +fame, with the girl at the window, the oak, and woman's beauty and love.\ +And if anyone came into his room at such moments he was particularly\ +cold, stern, and above all unpleasantly logical.\ +\ +"My dear," Princess Mary entering at such a moment would say, "little\ +Nicholas can't go out today, it's very cold."\ +\ +"If it were hot," Prince Andrew would reply at such times very dryly to\ +his sister, "he could go out in his smock, but as it is cold he must\ +wear warm clothes, which were designed for that purpose. That is what\ +follows from the fact that it is cold; and not that a child who needs\ +fresh air should remain at home," he would add with extreme logic, as if\ +punishing someone for those secret illogical emotions that stirred\ +within him.\ +\ +At such moments Princess Mary would think how intellectual work dries\ +men up.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER IV\ +\ +Prince Andrew arrived in Petersburg in August, 1809. It was the time\ +when the youthful Speranski was at the zenith of his fame and his\ +reforms were being pushed forward with the greatest energy. That same\ +August the Emperor was thrown from his caleche, injured his leg, and\ +remained three weeks at Peterhof, receiving Speranski every day and no\ +one else. At that time the two famous decrees were being prepared that\ +so agitated society--abolishing court ranks and introducing examinations\ +to qualify for the grades of Collegiate Assessor and State Councilor--\ +and not merely these but a whole state constitution, intended to change\ +the existing order of government in Russia: legal, administrative, and\ +financial, from the Council of State down to the district tribunals. Now\ +those vague liberal dreams with which the Emperor Alexander had ascended\ +the throne, and which he had tried to put into effect with the aid of\ +his associates, Czartoryski, Novosiltsev, Kochubey, and Strogonov--whom\ +he himself in jest had called his Comite de salut public--were taking\ +shape and being realized.\ +\ +Now all these men were replaced by Speranski on the civil side, and\ +Arakcheev on the military. Soon after his arrival Prince Andrew, as a\ +gentleman of the chamber, presented himself at court and at a levee. The\ +Emperor, though he met him twice, did not favor him with a single word.\ +It had always seemed to Prince Andrew before that he was antipathetic to\ +the Emperor and that the latter disliked his face and personality\ +generally, and in the cold, repellent glance the Emperor gave him, he\ +now found further confirmation of this surmise. The courtiers explained\ +the Emperor's neglect of him by His Majesty's displeasure at Bolkonski's\ +not having served since 1805.\ +\ +"I know myself that one cannot help one's sympathies and antipathies,"\ +thought Prince Andrew, "so it will not do to present my proposal for the\ +reform of the army regulations to the Emperor personally, but the\ +project will speak for itself."\ +\ +He mentioned what he had written to an old field marshal, a friend of\ +his father's. The field marshal made an appointment to see him, received\ +him graciously, and promised to inform the Emperor. A few days later\ +Prince Andrew received notice that he was to go to see the Minister of\ +War, Count Arakcheev.\ +\ +On the appointed day Prince Andrew entered Count Arakcheev's waiting\ +room at nine in the morning.\ +\ +He did not know Arakcheev personally, had never seen him, and all he had\ +heard of him inspired him with but little respect for the man.\ +\ +"He is Minister of War, a man trusted by the Emperor, and I need not\ +concern myself about his personal qualities: he has been commissioned to\ +consider my project, so he alone can get it adopted," thought Prince\ +Andrew as he waited among a number of important and unimportant people\ +in Count Arakcheev's waiting room.\ +\ +During his service, chiefly as an adjutant, Prince Andrew had seen the\ +anterooms of many important men, and the different types of such rooms\ +were well known to him. Count Arakcheev's anteroom had quite a special\ +character. The faces of the unimportant people awaiting their turn for\ +an audience showed embarrassment and servility; the faces of those of\ +higher rank expressed a common feeling of awkwardness, covered by a mask\ +of unconcern and ridicule of themselves, their situation, and the person\ +for whom they were waiting. Some walked thoughtfully up and down, others\ +whispered and laughed. Prince Andrew heard the nickname "Sila\ +Andreevich" and the words, "Uncle will give it to us hot," in reference\ +to Count Arakcheev. One general (an important personage), evidently\ +feeling offended at having to wait so long, sat crossing and uncrossing\ +his legs and smiling contemptuously to himself.\ +\ +But the moment the door opened one feeling alone appeared on all faces--\ +that of fear. Prince Andrew for the second time asked the adjutant on\ +duty to take in his name, but received an ironical look and was told\ +that his turn would come in due course. After some others had been shown\ +in and out of the minister's room by the adjutant on duty, an officer\ +who struck Prince Andrew by his humiliated and frightened air was\ +admitted at that terrible door. This officer's audience lasted a long\ +time. Then suddenly the grating sound of a harsh voice was heard from\ +the other side of the door, and the officer--with pale face and\ +trembling lips--came out and passed through the waiting room, clutching\ +his head.\ +\ +After this Prince Andrew was conducted to the door and the officer on\ +duty said in a whisper, "To the right, at the window."\ +\ +Prince Andrew entered a plain tidy room and saw at the table a man of\ +forty with a long waist, a long closely cropped head, deep wrinkles,\ +scowling brows above dull greenish-hazel eyes and an overhanging red\ +nose. Arakcheev turned his head toward him without looking at him.\ +\ +"What is your petition?" asked Arakcheev.\ +\ +"I am not petitioning, your excellency," returned Prince Andrew quietly.\ +\ +Arakcheev's eyes turned toward him.\ +\ +"Sit down," said he. "Prince Bolkonski?"\ +\ +"I am not petitioning about anything. His Majesty the Emperor has\ +deigned to send your excellency a project submitted by me..."\ +\ +"You see, my dear sir, I have read your project," interrupted Arakcheev,\ +uttering only the first words amiably and then--again without looking at\ +Prince Andrew--relapsing gradually into a tone of grumbling contempt.\ +"You are proposing new military laws? There are many laws but no one to\ +carry out the old ones. Nowadays everybody designs laws, it is easier\ +writing than doing."\ +\ +"I came at His Majesty the Emperor's wish to learn from your excellency\ +how you propose to deal with the memorandum I have presented," said\ +Prince Andrew politely.\ +\ +"I have endorsed a resolution on your memorandum and sent it to the\ +committee. I do not approve of it," said Arakcheev, rising and taking a\ +paper from his writing table. "Here!" and he handed it to Prince Andrew.\ +\ +Across the paper was scrawled in pencil, without capital letters,\ +misspelled, and without punctuation: "Unsoundly constructed because\ +resembles an imitation of the French military code and from the Articles\ +of War needlessly deviating."\ +\ +"To what committee has the memorandum been referred?" inquired Prince\ +Andrew.\ +\ +"To the Committee on Army Regulations, and I have recommended that your\ +honor should be appointed a member, but without a salary."\ +\ +Prince Andrew smiled.\ +\ +"I don't want one."\ +\ +"A member without salary," repeated Arakcheev. "I have the honor... Eh!\ +Call the next one! Who else is there?" he shouted, bowing to Prince\ +Andrew.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER V\ +\ +While waiting for the announcement of his appointment to the committee\ +Prince Andrew looked up his former acquaintances, particularly those he\ +knew to be in power and whose aid he might need. In Petersburg he now\ +experienced the same feeling he had had on the eve of a battle, when\ +troubled by anxious curiosity and irresistibly attracted to the ruling\ +circles where the future, on which the fate of millions depended, was\ +being shaped. From the irritation of the older men, the curiosity of the\ +uninitiated, the reserve of the initiated, the hurry and preoccupation\ +of everyone, and the innumerable committees and commissions of whose\ +existence he learned every day, he felt that now, in 1809, here in\ +Petersburg a vast civil conflict was in preparation, the commander in\ +chief of which was a mysterious person he did not know, but who was\ +supposed to be a man of genius--Speranski. And this movement of\ +reconstruction of which Prince Andrew had a vague idea, and Speranski\ +its chief promoter, began to interest him so keenly that the question of\ +the army regulations quickly receded to a secondary place in his\ +consciousness.\ +\ +Prince Andrew was most favorably placed to secure good reception in the\ +highest and most diverse Petersburg circles of the day. The reforming\ +party cordially welcomed and courted him, in the first place because he\ +was reputed to be clever and very well read, and secondly because by\ +liberating his serfs he had obtained the reputation of being a liberal.\ +The party of the old and dissatisfied, who censured the innovations,\ +turned to him expecting his sympathy in their disapproval of the\ +reforms, simply because he was the son of his father. The feminine\ +society world welcomed him gladly, because he was rich, distinguished, a\ +good match, and almost a newcomer, with a halo of romance on account of\ +his supposed death and the tragic loss of his wife. Besides this the\ +general opinion of all who had known him previously was that he had\ +greatly improved during these last five years, having softened and grown\ +more manly, lost his former affectation, pride, and contemptuous irony,\ +and acquired the serenity that comes with years. People talked about\ +him, were interested in him, and wanted to meet him.\ +\ +The day after his interview with Count Arakcheev, Prince Andrew spent\ +the evening at Count Kochubey's. He told the count of his interview with\ +Sila Andreevich (Kochubey spoke of Arakcheev by that nickname with the\ +same vague irony Prince Andrew had noticed in the Minister of War's\ +anteroom).\ +\ +"Mon cher, even in this case you can't do without Michael Mikhaylovich\ +Speranski. He manages everything. I'll speak to him. He has promised to\ +come this evening."\ +\ +"What has Speranski to do with the army regulations?" asked Prince\ +Andrew.\ +\ +Kochubey shook his head smilingly, as if surprised at Bolkonski's\ +simplicity.\ +\ +"We were talking to him about you a few days ago," Kochubey continued,\ +"and about your freed plowmen."\ +\ +"Oh, is it you, Prince, who have freed your serfs?" said an old man of\ +Catherine's day, turning contemptuously toward Bolkonski.\ +\ +"It was a small estate that brought in no profit," replied Prince\ +Andrew, trying to extenuate his action so as not to irritate the old man\ +uselessly.\ +\ +"Afraid of being late..." said the old man, looking at Kochubey.\ +\ +"There's one thing I don't understand," he continued. "Who will plow the\ +land if they are set free? It is easy to write laws, but difficult to\ +rule.... Just the same as now--I ask you, Count--who will be heads of\ +the departments when everybody has to pass examinations?"\ +\ +"Those who pass the examinations, I suppose," replied Kochubey, crossing\ +his legs and glancing round.\ +\ +"Well, I have Pryanichnikov serving under me, a splendid man, a\ +priceless man, but he's sixty. Is he to go up for examination?"\ +\ +"Yes, that's a difficulty, as education is not at all general, but..."\ +\ +Count Kochubey did not finish. He rose, took Prince Andrew by the arm,\ +and went to meet a tall, bald, fair man of about forty with a large open\ +forehead and a long face of unusual and peculiar whiteness, who was just\ +entering. The newcomer wore a blue swallow-tail coat with a cross\ +suspended from his neck and a star on his left breast. It was Speranski.\ +Prince Andrew recognized him at once, and felt a throb within him, as\ +happens at critical moments of life. Whether it was from respect, envy,\ +or anticipation, he did not know. Speranski's whole figure was of a\ +peculiar type that made him easily recognizable. In the society in which\ +Prince Andrew lived he had never seen anyone who together with awkward\ +and clumsy gestures possessed such calmness and self-assurance; he had\ +never seen so resolute yet gentle an expression as that in those half-\ +closed, rather humid eyes, or so firm a smile that expressed nothing;\ +nor had he heard such a refined, smooth, soft voice; above all he had\ +never seen such delicate whiteness of face or hands--hands which were\ +broad, but very plump, soft, and white. Such whiteness and softness\ +Prince Andrew had only seen on the faces of soldiers who had been long\ +in hospital. This was Speranski, Secretary of State, reporter to the\ +Emperor and his companion at Erfurt, where he had more than once met and\ +talked with Napoleon.\ +\ +Speranski did not shift his eyes from one face to another as people\ +involuntarily do on entering a large company and was in no hurry to\ +speak. He spoke slowly, with assurance that he would be listened to, and\ +he looked only at the person with whom he was conversing.\ +\ +Prince Andrew followed Speranski's every word and movement with\ +particular attention. As happens to some people, especially to men who\ +judge those near to them severely, he always on meeting anyone new--\ +especially anyone whom, like Speranski, he knew by reputation--expected\ +to discover in him the perfection of human qualities.\ +\ +Speranski told Kochubey he was sorry he had been unable to come sooner\ +as he had been detained at the palace. He did not say that the Emperor\ +had kept him, and Prince Andrew noticed this affectation of modesty.\ +When Kochubey introduced Prince Andrew, Speranski slowly turned his eyes\ +to Bolkonski with his customary smile and looked at him in silence.\ +\ +"I am very glad to make your acquaintance. I had heard of you, as\ +everyone has," he said after a pause.\ +\ +Kochubey said a few words about the reception Arakcheev had given\ +Bolkonski. Speranski smiled more markedly.\ +\ +"The chairman of the Committee on Army Regulations is my good friend\ +Monsieur Magnitski," he said, fully articulating every word and\ +syllable, "and if you like I can put you in touch with him." He paused\ +at the full stop. "I hope you will find him sympathetic and ready to co-\ +operate in promoting all that is reasonable."\ +\ +A circle soon formed round Speranski, and the old man who had talked\ +about his subordinate Pryanichnikov addressed a question to him.\ +\ +Prince Andrew without joining in the conversation watched every movement\ +of Speranski's: this man, not long since an insignificant divinity\ +student, who now, Bolkonski thought, held in his hands--those plump\ +white hands--the fate of Russia. Prince Andrew was struck by the\ +extraordinarily disdainful composure with which Speranski answered the\ +old man. He appeared to address condescending words to him from an\ +immeasurable height. When the old man began to speak too loud, Speranski\ +smiled and said he could not judge of the advantage or disadvantage of\ +what pleased the sovereign.\ +\ +Having talked for a little while in the general circle, Speranski rose\ +and coming up to Prince Andrew took him along to the other end of the\ +room. It was clear that he thought it necessary to interest himself in\ +Bolkonski.\ +\ +"I had no chance to talk with you, Prince, during the animated\ +conversation in which that venerable gentleman involved me," he said\ +with a mildly contemptuous smile, as if intimating by that smile that he\ +and Prince Andrew understood the insignificance of the people with whom\ +he had just been talking. This flattered Prince Andrew. "I have known of\ +you for a long time: first from your action with regard to your serfs, a\ +first example, of which it is very desirable that there should be more\ +imitators; and secondly because you are one of those gentlemen of the\ +chamber who have not considered themselves offended by the new decree\ +concerning the ranks allotted to courtiers, which is causing so much\ +gossip and tittle-tattle."\ +\ +"No," said Prince Andrew, "my father did not wish me to take advantage\ +of the privilege. I began the service from the lower grade."\ +\ +"Your father, a man of the last century, evidently stands above our\ +contemporaries who so condemn this measure which merely reestablishes\ +natural justice."\ +\ +"I think, however, that these condemnations have some ground," returned\ +Prince Andrew, trying to resist Speranski's influence, of which he began\ +to be conscious. He did not like to agree with him in everything and\ +felt a wish to contradict. Though he usually spoke easily and well, he\ +felt a difficulty in expressing himself now while talking with\ +Speranski. He was too much absorbed in observing the famous man's\ +personality.\ +\ +"Grounds of personal ambition maybe," Speranski put in quietly.\ +\ +"And of state interest to some extent," said Prince Andrew.\ +\ +"What do you mean?" asked Speranski quietly, lowering his eyes.\ +\ +"I am an admirer of Montesquieu," replied Prince Andrew, "and his idea\ +that le principe des monarchies est l'honneur me parait incontestable.\ +Certains droits et privileges de la noblesse me paraissent etre des\ +moyens de soutenir ce sentiment." *\ +\ +\ +* "The principle of monarchies is honor seems to me incontestable.\ +Certain rights and privileges for the aristocracy appear to me a means\ +of maintaining that sentiment."\ +\ +The smile vanished from Speranski's white face, which was much improved\ +by the change. Probably Prince Andrew's thought interested him.\ +\ +"Si vous envisagez la question sous ce point de vue," * he began,\ +pronouncing French with evident difficulty, and speaking even slower\ +than in Russian but quite calmly.\ +\ +\ +* "If you regard the question from that point of view."\ +\ +Speranski went on to say that honor, l'honneur, cannot be upheld by\ +privileges harmful to the service; that honor, l'honneur, is either a\ +negative concept of not doing what is blameworthy or it is a source of\ +emulation in pursuit of commendation and rewards, which recognize it.\ +His arguments were concise, simple, and clear.\ +\ +"An institution upholding honor, the source of emulation, is one similar\ +to the Legion d'honneur of the great Emperor Napoleon, not harmful but\ +helpful to the success of the service, but not a class or court\ +privilege."\ +\ +"I do not dispute that, but it cannot be denied that court privileges\ +have attained the same end," returned Prince Andrew. "Every courtier\ +considers himself bound to maintain his position worthily."\ +\ +"Yet you do not care to avail yourself of the privilege, Prince," said\ +Speranski, indicating by a smile that he wished to finish amiably an\ +argument which was embarrassing for his companion. "If you will do me\ +the honor of calling on me on Wednesday," he added, "I will, after\ +talking with Magnitski, let you know what may interest you, and shall\ +also have the pleasure of a more detailed chat with you."\ +\ +Closing his eyes, he bowed a la francaise, without taking leave, and\ +trying to attract as little attention as possible, he left the room.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER VI\ +\ +During the first weeks of his stay in Petersburg Prince Andrew felt the\ +whole trend of thought he had formed during his life of seclusion quite\ +overshadowed by the trifling cares that engrossed him in that city.\ +\ +On returning home in the evening he would jot down in his notebook four\ +or five necessary calls or appointments for certain hours. The mechanism\ +of life, the arrangement of the day so as to be in time everywhere,\ +absorbed the greater part of his vital energy. He did nothing, did not\ +even think or find time to think, but only talked, and talked\ +successfully, of what he had thought while in the country.\ +\ +He sometimes noticed with dissatisfaction that he repeated the same\ +remark on the same day in different circles. But he was so busy for\ +whole days together that he had no time to notice that he was thinking\ +of nothing.\ +\ +As he had done on their first meeting at Kochubey's, Speranski produced\ +a strong impression on Prince Andrew on the Wednesday, when he received\ +him t\'eate-\'e0-t\'eate at his own house and talked to him long and\ +confidentially.\ +\ +To Bolkonski so many people appeared contemptible and insignificant\ +creatures, and he so longed to find in someone the living ideal of that\ +perfection toward which he strove, that he readily believed that in\ +Speranski he had found this ideal of a perfectly rational and virtuous\ +man. Had Speranski sprung from the same class as himself and possessed\ +the same breeding and traditions, Bolkonski would soon have discovered\ +his weak, human, unheroic sides; but as it was, Speranski's strange and\ +logical turn of mind inspired him with respect all the more because he\ +did not quite understand him. Moreover, Speranski, either because he\ +appreciated the other's capacity or because he considered it necessary\ +to win him to his side, showed off his dispassionate calm reasonableness\ +before Prince Andrew and flattered him with that subtle flattery which\ +goes hand in hand with self-assurance and consists in a tacit assumption\ +that one's companion is the only man besides oneself capable of\ +understanding the folly of the rest of mankind and the reasonableness\ +and profundity of one's own ideas.\ +\ +During their long conversation on Wednesday evening, Speranski more than\ +once remarked: "We regard everything that is above the common level of\ +rooted custom..." or, with a smile: "But we want the wolves to be fed\ +and the sheep to be safe..." or: "They cannot understand this..." and\ +all in a way that seemed to say: "We, you and I, understand what they\ +are and who we are."\ +\ +This first long conversation with Speranski only strengthened in Prince\ +Andrew the feeling he had experienced toward him at their first meeting.\ +He saw in him a remarkable, clear-thinking man of vast intellect who by\ +his energy and persistence had attained power, which he was using solely\ +for the welfare of Russia. In Prince Andrew's eyes Speranski was the man\ +he would himself have wished to be--one who explained all the facts of\ +life reasonably, considered important only what was rational, and was\ +capable of applying the standard of reason to everything. Everything\ +seemed so simple and clear in Speranski's exposition that Prince Andrew\ +involuntarily agreed with him about everything. If he replied and\ +argued, it was only because he wished to maintain his independence and\ +not submit to Speranski's opinions entirely. Everything was right and\ +everything was as it should be: only one thing disconcerted Prince\ +Andrew. This was Speranski's cold, mirrorlike look, which did not allow\ +one to penetrate to his soul, and his delicate white hands, which Prince\ +Andrew involuntarily watched as one does watch the hands of those who\ +possess power. This mirrorlike gaze and those delicate hands irritated\ +Prince Andrew, he knew not why. He was unpleasantly struck, too, by the\ +excessive contempt for others that he observed in Speranski, and by the\ +diversity of lines of argument he used to support his opinions. He made\ +use of every kind of mental device, except analogy, and passed too\ +boldly, it seemed to Prince Andrew, from one to another. Now he would\ +take up the position of a practical man and condemn dreamers; now that\ +of a satirist, and laugh ironically at his opponents; now grow severely\ +logical, or suddenly rise to the realm of metaphysics. (This last\ +resource was one he very frequently employed.) He would transfer a\ +question to metaphysical heights, pass on to definitions of space, time,\ +and thought, and, having deduced the refutation he needed, would again\ +descend to the level of the original discussion.\ +\ +In general the trait of Speranski's mentality which struck Prince Andrew\ +most was his absolute and unshakable belief in the power and authority\ +of reason. It was evident that the thought could never occur to him\ +which to Prince Andrew seemed so natural, namely, that it is after all\ +impossible to express all one thinks; and that he had never felt the\ +doubt, "Is not all I think and believe nonsense?" And it was just this\ +peculiarity of Speranski's mind that particularly attracted Prince\ +Andrew.\ +\ +During the first period of their acquaintance Bolkonski felt a\ +passionate admiration for him similar to that which he had once felt for\ +Bonaparte. The fact that Speranski was the son of a village priest, and\ +that stupid people might meanly despise him on account of his humble\ +origin (as in fact many did), caused Prince Andrew to cherish his\ +sentiment for him the more, and unconsciously to strengthen it.\ +\ +On that first evening Bolkonski spent with him, having mentioned the\ +Commission for the Revision of the Code of Laws, Speranski told him\ +sarcastically that the Commission had existed for a hundred and fifty\ +years, had cost millions, and had done nothing except that Rosenkampf\ +had stuck labels on the corresponding paragraphs of the different codes.\ +\ +"And that is all the state has for the millions it has spent," said he.\ +"We want to give the Senate new juridical powers, but we have no laws.\ +That is why it is a sin for men like you, Prince, not to serve in these\ +times!"\ +\ +Prince Andrew said that for that work an education in jurisprudence was\ +needed which he did not possess.\ +\ +"But nobody possesses it, so what would you have? It is a vicious circle\ +from which we must break a way out."\ +\ +A week later Prince Andrew was a member of the Committee on Army\ +Regulations and--what he had not at all expected--was chairman of a\ +section of the committee for the revision of the laws. At Speranski's\ +request he took the first part of the Civil Code that was being drawn up\ +and, with the aid of the Code Napoleon and the Institutes of Justinian,\ +he worked at formulating the section on Personal Rights.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER VII\ +\ +Nearly two years before this, in 1808, Pierre on returning to Petersburg\ +after visiting his estates had involuntarily found himself in a leading\ +position among the Petersburg Freemasons. He arranged dining and funeral\ +lodge meetings, enrolled new members, and busied himself uniting various\ +lodges and acquiring authentic charters. He gave money for the erection\ +of temples and supplemented as far as he could the collection of alms,\ +in regard to which the majority of members were stingy and irregular. He\ +supported almost singlehanded a poorhouse the order had founded in\ +Petersburg.\ +\ +His life meanwhile continued as before, with the same infatuations and\ +dissipations. He liked to dine and drink well, and though he considered\ +it immoral and humiliating could not resist the temptations of the\ +bachelor circles in which he moved.\ +\ +Amid the turmoil of his activities and distractions, however, Pierre at\ +the end of a year began to feel that the more firmly he tried to rest\ +upon it, the more masonic ground on which he stood gave way under him.\ +At the same time he felt that the deeper the ground sank under him the\ +closer bound he involuntarily became to the order. When he had joined\ +the Freemasons he had experienced the feeling of one who confidently\ +steps onto the smooth surface of a bog. When he put his foot down it\ +sank in. To make quite sure of the firmness of the ground, he put his\ +other foot down and sank deeper still, became stuck in it, and\ +involuntarily waded knee-deep in the bog.\ +\ +Joseph Alexeevich was not in Petersburg--he had of late stood aside from\ +the affairs of the Petersburg lodges, and lived almost entirely in\ +Moscow. All the members of the lodges were men Pierre knew in ordinary\ +life, and it was difficult for him to regard them merely as Brothers in\ +Freemasonry and not as Prince B. or Ivan Vasilevich D., whom he knew in\ +society mostly as weak and insignificant men. Under the masonic aprons\ +and insignia he saw the uniforms and decorations at which they aimed in\ +ordinary life. Often after collecting alms, and reckoning up twenty to\ +thirty rubles received for the most part in promises from a dozen\ +members, of whom half were as well able to pay as himself, Pierre\ +remembered the masonic vow in which each Brother promised to devote all\ +his belongings to his neighbor, and doubts on which he tried not to\ +dwell arose in his soul.\ +\ +He divided the Brothers he knew into four categories. In the first he\ +put those who did not take an active part in the affairs of the lodges\ +or in human affairs, but were exclusively occupied with the mystical\ +science of the order: with questions of the threefold designation of\ +God, the three primordial elements--sulphur, mercury, and salt--or the\ +meaning of the square and all the various figures of the temple of\ +Solomon. Pierre respected this class of Brothers to which the elder ones\ +chiefly belonged, including, Pierre thought, Joseph Alexeevich himself,\ +but he did not share their interests. His heart was not in the mystical\ +aspect of Freemasonry.\ +\ +In the second category Pierre reckoned himself and others like him,\ +seeking and vacillating, who had not yet found in Freemasonry a straight\ +and comprehensible path, but hoped to do so.\ +\ +In the third category he included those Brothers (the majority) who saw\ +nothing in Freemasonry but the external forms and ceremonies, and prized\ +the strict performance of these forms without troubling about their\ +purport or significance. Such were Willarski and even the Grand Master\ +of the principal lodge.\ +\ +Finally, to the fourth category also a great many Brothers belonged,\ +particularly those who had lately joined. These according to Pierre's\ +observations were men who had no belief in anything, nor desire for\ +anything, but joined the Freemasons merely to associate with the wealthy\ +young Brothers who were influential through their connections or rank,\ +and of whom there were very many in the lodge.\ +\ +Pierre began to feel dissatisfied with what he was doing. Freemasonry,\ +at any rate as he saw it here, sometimes seemed to him based merely on\ +externals. He did not think of doubting Freemasonry itself, but\ +suspected that Russian Masonry had taken a wrong path and deviated from\ +its original principles. And so toward the end of the year he went\ +abroad to be initiated into the higher secrets of the order.\ +\ +In the summer of 1809 Pierre returned to Petersburg. Our Freemasons knew\ +from correspondence with those abroad that Bezukhov had obtained the\ +confidence of many highly placed persons, had been initiated into many\ +mysteries, had been raised to a higher grade, and was bringing back with\ +him much that might conduce to the advantage of the masonic cause in\ +Russia. The Petersburg Freemasons all came to see him, tried to\ +ingratiate themselves with him, and it seemed to them all that he was\ +preparing something for them and concealing it.\ +\ +A solemn meeting of the lodge of the second degree was convened, at\ +which Pierre promised to communicate to the Petersburg Brothers what he\ +had to deliver to them from the highest leaders of their order. The\ +meeting was a full one. After the usual ceremonies Pierre rose and began\ +his address.\ +\ +"Dear Brothers," he began, blushing and stammering, with a written\ +speech in his hand, "it is not sufficient to observe our mysteries in\ +the seclusion of our lodge--we must act--act! We are drowsing, but we\ +must act." Pierre raised his notebook and began to read.\ +\ +"For the dissemination of pure truth and to secure the triumph of\ +virtue," he read, "we must cleanse men from prejudice, diffuse\ +principles in harmony with the spirit of the times, undertake the\ +education of the young, unite ourselves in indissoluble bonds with the\ +wisest men, boldly yet prudently overcome superstitions, infidelity, and\ +folly, and form of those devoted to us a body linked together by unity\ +of purpose and possessed of authority and power.\ +\ +"To attain this end we must secure a preponderance of virtue over vice\ +and must endeavor to secure that the honest man may, even in this world,\ +receive a lasting reward for his virtue. But in these great endeavors we\ +are gravely hampered by the political institutions of today. What is to\ +be done in these circumstances? To favor revolutions, overthrow\ +everything, repel force by force?... No! We are very far from that.\ +Every violent reform deserves censure, for it quite fails to remedy evil\ +while men remain what they are, and also because wisdom needs no\ +violence.\ +\ +"The whole plan of our order should be based on the idea of preparing\ +men of firmness and virtue bound together by unity of conviction--aiming\ +at the punishment of vice and folly, and patronizing talent and virtue:\ +raising worthy men from the dust and attaching them to our Brotherhood.\ +Only then will our order have the power unobtrusively to bind the hands\ +of the protectors of disorder and to control them without their being\ +aware of it. In a word, we must found a form of government holding\ +universal sway, which should be diffused over the whole world without\ +destroying the bonds of citizenship, and beside which all other\ +governments can continue in their customary course and do everything\ +except what impedes the great aim of our order, which is to obtain for\ +virtue the victory over vice. This aim was that of Christianity itself.\ +It taught men to be wise and good and for their own benefit to follow\ +the example and instruction of the best and wisest men.\ +\ +"At that time, when everything was plunged in darkness, preaching alone\ +was of course sufficient. The novelty of Truth endowed her with special\ +strength, but now we need much more powerful methods. It is now\ +necessary that man, governed by his senses, should find in virtue a\ +charm palpable to those senses. It is impossible to eradicate the\ +passions; but we must strive to direct them to a noble aim, and it is\ +therefore necessary that everyone should be able to satisfy his passions\ +within the limits of virtue. Our order should provide means to that end.\ +\ +"As soon as we have a certain number of worthy men in every state, each\ +of them again training two others and all being closely united,\ +everything will be possible for our order, which has already in secret\ +accomplished much for the welfare of mankind."\ +\ +This speech not only made a strong impression, but created excitement in\ +the lodge. The majority of the Brothers, seeing in it dangerous designs\ +of Illuminism, * met it with a coldness that surprised Pierre. The Grand\ +Master began answering him, and Pierre began developing his views with\ +more and more warmth. It was long since there had been so stormy a\ +meeting. Parties were formed, some accusing Pierre of Illuminism, others\ +supporting him. At that meeting he was struck for the first time by the\ +endless variety of men's minds, which prevents a truth from ever\ +presenting itself identically to two persons. Even those members who\ +seemed to be on his side understood him in their own way with\ +limitations and alterations he could not agree to, as what he always\ +wanted most was to convey his thought to others just as he himself\ +understood it.\ +\ +\ +* The Illuminati sought to substitute republican for monarchical\ +institutions.\ +\ +At the end of the meeting the Grand Master with irony and ill-will\ +reproved Bezukhov for his vehemence and said it was not love of virtue\ +alone, but also a love of strife that had moved him in the dispute.\ +Pierre did not answer him and asked briefly whether his proposal would\ +be accepted. He was told that it would not, and without waiting for the\ +usual formalities he left the lodge and went home.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER VIII\ +\ +Again Pierre was overtaken by the depression he so dreaded. For three\ +days after the delivery of his speech at the lodge he lay on a sofa at\ +home receiving no one and going nowhere.\ +\ +It was just then that he received a letter from his wife, who implored\ +him to see her, telling him how grieved she was about him and how she\ +wished to devote her whole life to him.\ +\ +At the end of the letter she informed him that in a few days she would\ +return to Petersburg from abroad.\ +\ +Following this letter one of the masonic Brothers whom Pierre respected\ +less than the others forced his way in to see him and, turning the\ +conversation upon Pierre's matrimonial affairs, by way of fraternal\ +advice expressed the opinion that his severity to his wife was wrong and\ +that he was neglecting one of the first rules of Freemasonry by not\ +forgiving the penitent.\ +\ +At the same time his mother-in-law, Prince Vasili's wife, sent to him\ +imploring him to come if only for a few minutes to discuss a most\ +important matter. Pierre saw that there was a conspiracy against him and\ +that they wanted to reunite him with his wife, and in the mood he then\ +was, this was not even unpleasant to him. Nothing mattered to him.\ +Nothing in life seemed to him of much importance, and under the\ +influence of the depression that possessed him he valued neither his\ +liberty nor his resolution to punish his wife.\ +\ +"No one is right and no one is to blame; so she too is not to blame," he\ +thought.\ +\ +If he did not at once give his consent to a reunion with his wife, it\ +was only because in his state of depression he did not feel able to take\ +any step. Had his wife come to him, he would not have turned her away.\ +Compared to what preoccupied him, was it not a matter of indifference\ +whether he lived with his wife or not?\ +\ +Without replying either to his wife or his mother-in-law, Pierre late\ +one night prepared for a journey and started for Moscow to see Joseph\ +Alexeevich. This is what he noted in his diary:\ +\ +Moscow, 17th November\ +\ +I have just returned from my benefactor, and hasten to write down what I\ +have experienced. Joseph Alexeevich is living poorly and has for three\ +years been suffering from a painful disease of the bladder. No one has\ +ever heard him utter a groan or a word of complaint. From morning till\ +late at night, except when he eats his very plain food, he is working at\ +science. He received me graciously and made me sit down on the bed on\ +which he lay. I made the sign of the Knights of the East and of\ +Jerusalem, and he responded in the same manner, asking me with a mild\ +smile what I had learned and gained in the Prussian and Scottish lodges.\ +I told him everything as best I could, and told him what I had proposed\ +to our Petersburg lodge, of the bad reception I had encountered, and of\ +my rupture with the Brothers. Joseph Alexeevich, having remained silent\ +and thoughtful for a good while, told me his view of the matter, which\ +at once lit up for me my whole past and the future path I should follow.\ +He surprised me by asking whether I remembered the threefold aim of the\ +order: (1) The preservation and study of the mystery. (2) The\ +purification and reformation of oneself for its reception, and (3) The\ +improvement of the human race by striving for such purification. Which\ +is the principal aim of these three? Certainly self-reformation and\ +self-purification. Only to this aim can we always strive independently\ +of circumstances. But at the same time just this aim demands the\ +greatest efforts of us; and so, led astray by pride, losing sight of\ +this aim, we occupy ourselves either with the mystery which in our\ +impurity we are unworthy to receive, or seek the reformation of the\ +human race while ourselves setting an example of baseness and\ +profligacy. Illuminism is not a pure doctrine, just because it is\ +attracted by social activity and puffed up by pride. On this ground\ +Joseph Alexeevich condemned my speech and my whole activity, and in the\ +depth of my soul I agreed with him. Talking of my family affairs he said\ +to me, "the chief duty of a true Mason, as I have told you, lies in\ +perfecting himself. We often think that by removing all the difficulties\ +of our life we shall more quickly reach our aim, but on the contrary, my\ +dear sir, it is only in the midst of worldly cares that we can attain\ +our three chief aims: (1) Self-knowledge--for man can only know himself\ +by comparison, (2) Self-perfecting, which can only be attained by\ +conflict, and (3) The attainment of the chief virtue--love of death.\ +Only the vicissitudes of life can show us its vanity and develop our\ +innate love of death or of rebirth to a new life." These words are all\ +the more remarkable because, in spite of his great physical sufferings,\ +Joseph Alexeevich is never weary of life though he loves death, for\ +which--in spite of the purity and loftiness of his inner man--he does\ +not yet feel himself sufficiently prepared. My benefactor then explained\ +to me fully the meaning of the Great Square of creation and pointed out\ +to me that the numbers three and seven are the basis of everything. He\ +advised me not to avoid intercourse with the Petersburg Brothers, but to\ +take up only second-grade posts in the lodge, to try, while diverting\ +the Brothers from pride, to turn them toward the true path self-\ +knowledge and self-perfecting. Besides this he advised me for myself\ +personally above all to keep a watch over myself, and to that end he\ +gave me a notebook, the one I am now writing in and in which I will in\ +future note down all my actions.\ +\ +Petersburg, 23rd November\ +\ +I am again living with my wife. My mother-in-law came to me in tears and\ +said that Helene was here and that she implored me to hear her; that she\ +was innocent and unhappy at my desertion, and much more. I knew that if\ +I once let myself see her I should not have strength to go on refusing\ +what she wanted. In my perplexity I did not know whose aid and advice to\ +seek. Had my benefactor been here he would have told me what to do. I\ +went to my room and reread Joseph Alexeevich's letters and recalled my\ +conversations with him, and deduced from it all that I ought not to\ +refuse a supplicant, and ought to reach a helping hand to everyone--\ +especially to one so closely bound to me--and that I must bear my cross.\ +But if I forgive her for the sake of doing right, then let union with\ +her have only a spiritual aim. That is what I decided, and what I wrote\ +to Joseph Alexeevich. I told my wife that I begged her to forget the\ +past, to forgive me whatever wrong I may have done her, and that I had\ +nothing to forgive. It gave me joy to tell her this. She need not know\ +how hard it was for me to see her again. I have settled on the upper\ +floor of this big house and am experiencing a happy feeling of\ +regeneration.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER IX\ +\ +At that time, as always happens, the highest society that met at court\ +and at the grand balls was divided into several circles, each with its\ +own particular tone. The largest of these was the French circle of the\ +Napoleonic alliance, the circle of Count Rumyantsev and Caulaincourt. In\ +this group Helene, as soon as she had settled in Petersburg with her\ +husband, took a very prominent place. She was visited by the members of\ +the French embassy and by many belonging to that circle and noted for\ +their intellect and polished manners.\ +\ +Helene had been at Erfurt during the famous meeting of the Emperors and\ +had brought from there these connections with the Napoleonic\ +notabilities. At Erfurt her success had been brilliant. Napoleon himself\ +had noticed her in the theater and said of her: "C'est un superbe\ +animal." * Her success as a beautiful and elegant woman did not surprise\ +Pierre, for she had become even handsomer than before. What did surprise\ +him was that during these last two years his wife had succeeded in\ +gaining the reputation "d' une femme charmante, aussi spirituelle que\ +belle." *(2) The distinguished Prince de Ligne wrote her eight-page\ +letters. Bilibin saved up his epigrams to produce them in Countess\ +Bezukhova's presence. To be received in the Countess Bezukhova's salon\ +was regarded as a diploma of intellect. Young men read books before\ +attending Helene's evenings, to have something to say in her salon, and\ +secretaries of the embassy, and even ambassadors, confided diplomatic\ +secrets to her, so that in a way Helene was a power. Pierre, who knew\ +she was very stupid, sometimes attended, with a strange feeling of\ +perplexity and fear, her evenings and dinner parties, where politics,\ +poetry, and philosophy were discussed. At these parties his feelings\ +were like those of a conjuror who always expects his trick to be found\ +out at any moment. But whether because stupidity was just what was\ +needed to run such a salon, or because those who were deceived found\ +pleasure in the deception, at any rate it remained unexposed and Helene\ +Bezukhova's reputation as a lovely and clever woman became so firmly\ +established that she could say the emptiest and stupidest things and\ +everybody would go into raptures over every word of hers and look for a\ +profound meaning in it of which she herself had no conception.\ +\ +\ +* "That's a superb animal."\ +\ +* (2) "Of a charming woman, as witty as she is lovely."\ +\ +Pierre was just the husband needed for a brilliant society woman. He was\ +that absent-minded crank, a grand seigneur husband who was in no one's\ +way, and far from spoiling the high tone and general impression of the\ +drawing room, he served, by the contrast he presented to her, as an\ +advantageous background to his elegant and tactful wife. Pierre during\ +the last two years, as a result of his continual absorption in abstract\ +interests and his sincere contempt for all else, had acquired in his\ +wife's circle, which did not interest him, that air of unconcern,\ +indifference, and benevolence toward all, which cannot be acquired\ +artificially and therefore inspires involuntary respect. He entered his\ +wife's drawing room as one enters a theater, was acquainted with\ +everybody, equally pleased to see everyone, and equally indifferent to\ +them all. Sometimes he joined in a conversation which interested him\ +and, regardless of whether any "gentlemen of the embassy" were present\ +or not, lispingly expressed his views, which were sometimes not at all\ +in accord with the accepted tone of the moment. But the general opinion\ +concerning the queer husband of "the most distinguished woman in\ +Petersburg" was so well established that no one took his freaks\ +seriously.\ +\ +Among the many young men who frequented her house every day, Boris\ +Drubetskoy, who had already achieved great success in the service, was\ +the most intimate friend of the Bezukhov household since Helene's return\ +from Erfurt. Helene spoke of him as "mon page" and treated him like a\ +child. Her smile for him was the same as for everybody, but sometimes\ +that smile made Pierre uncomfortable. Toward him Boris behaved with a\ +particularly dignified and sad deference. This shade of deference also\ +disturbed Pierre. He had suffered so painfully three years before from\ +the mortification to which his wife had subjected him that he now\ +protected himself from the danger of its repetition, first by not being\ +a husband to his wife, and secondly by not allowing himself to suspect.\ +\ +"No, now that she has become a bluestocking she has finally renounced\ +her former infatuations," he told himself. "There has never been an\ +instance of a bluestocking being carried away by affairs of the heart"--\ +a statement which, though gathered from an unknown source, he believed\ +implicitly. Yet strange to say Boris' presence in his wife's drawing\ +room (and he was almost always there) had a physical effect upon Pierre;\ +it constricted his limbs and destroyed the unconsciousness and freedom\ +of his movements.\ +\ +"What a strange antipathy," thought Pierre, "yet I used to like him very\ +much."\ +\ +In the eyes of the world Pierre was a great gentleman, the rather blind\ +and absurd husband of a distinguished wife, a clever crank who did\ +nothing but harmed nobody and was a first-rate, good-natured fellow. But\ +a complex and difficult process of internal development was taking place\ +all this time in Pierre's soul, revealing much to him and causing him\ +many spiritual doubts and joys.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER X\ +\ +Pierre went on with his diary, and this is what he wrote in it during\ +that time:\ +\ +24th November\ +\ +Got up at eight, read the Scriptures, then went to my duties. (By Joseph\ +Alexeevich's advice Pierre had entered the service of the state and\ +served on one of the committees.) Returned home for dinner and dined\ +alone--the countess had many visitors I do not like. I ate and drank\ +moderately and after dinner copied out some passages for the Brothers.\ +In the evening I went down to the countess and told a funny story about\ +B., and only remembered that I ought not to have done so when everybody\ +laughed loudly at it.\ +\ +I am going to bed with a happy and tranquil mind. Great God, help me to\ +walk in Thy paths, (1) to conquer anger by calmness and deliberation,\ +(2) to vanquish lust by self-restraint and repulsion, (3) to withdraw\ +from worldliness, but not avoid (a) the service of the state, (b) family\ +duties, (c) relations with my friends, and the management of my affairs.\ +\ +27th November\ +\ +I got up late. On waking I lay long in bed yielding to sloth. O God,\ +help and strengthen me that I may walk in Thy ways! Read the Scriptures,\ +but without proper feeling. Brother Urusov came and we talked about\ +worldly vanities. He told me of the Emperor's new projects. I began to\ +criticize them, but remembered my rules and my benefactor's words--that\ +a true Freemason should be a zealous worker for the state when his aid\ +is required and a quiet onlooker when not called on to assist. My tongue\ +is my enemy. Brothers G. V. and O. visited me and we had a preliminary\ +talk about the reception of a new Brother. They laid on me the duty of\ +Rhetor. I feel myself weak and unworthy. Then our talk turned to the\ +interpretation of the seven pillars and steps of the Temple, the seven\ +sciences, the seven virtues, the seven vices, and the seven gifts of the\ +Holy Spirit. Brother O. was very eloquent. In the evening the admission\ +took place. The new decoration of the Premises contributed much to the\ +magnificence of the spectacle. It was Boris Drubetskoy who was admitted.\ +I nominated him and was the Rhetor. A strange feeling agitated me all\ +the time I was alone with him in the dark chamber. I caught myself\ +harboring a feeling of hatred toward him which I vainly tried to\ +overcome. That is why I should really like to save him from evil and\ +lead him into the path of truth, but evil thoughts of him did not leave\ +me. It seemed to me that his object in entering the Brotherhood was\ +merely to be intimate and in favor with members of our lodge. Apart from\ +the fact that he had asked me several times whether N. and S. were\ +members of our lodge (a question to which I could not reply) and that\ +according to my observation he is incapable of feeling respect for our\ +holy order and is too preoccupied and satisfied with the outer man to\ +desire spiritual improvement, I had no cause to doubt him, but he seemed\ +to me insincere, and all the time I stood alone with him in the dark\ +temple it seemed to me that he was smiling contemptuously at my words,\ +and I wished really to stab his bare breast with the sword I held to it.\ +I could not be eloquent, nor could I frankly mention my doubts to the\ +Brothers and to the Grand Master. Great Architect of Nature, help me to\ +find the true path out of the labyrinth of lies!\ +\ +\ +After this, three pages were left blank in the diary, and then the\ +following was written:\ +\ +I have had a long and instructive talk alone with Brother V., who\ +advised me to hold fast by Brother A. Though I am unworthy, much was\ +revealed to me. Adonai is the name of the creator of the world. Elohim\ +is the name of the ruler of all. The third name is the name unutterable\ +which means the All. Talks with Brother V. strengthen, refresh, and\ +support me in the path of virtue. In his presence doubt has no place.\ +The distinction between the poor teachings of mundane science and our\ +sacred all-embracing teaching is clear to me. Human sciences dissect\ +everything to comprehend it, and kill everything to examine it. In the\ +holy science of our order all is one, all is known in its entirety and\ +life. The Trinity--the three elements of matter--are sulphur, mercury,\ +and salt. Sulphur is of an oily and fiery nature; in combination with\ +salt by its fiery nature it arouses a desire in the latter by means of\ +which it attracts mercury, seizes it, holds it, and in combination\ +produces other bodies. Mercury is a fluid, volatile, spiritual essence.\ +Christ, the Holy Spirit, Him!...\ +\ +3rd December\ +\ +Awoke late, read the Scriptures but was apathetic. Afterwards went and\ +paced up and down the large hall. I wished to meditate, but instead my\ +imagination pictured an occurrence of four years ago, when Dolokhov,\ +meeting me in Moscow after our duel, said he hoped I was enjoying\ +perfect peace of mind in spite of my wife's absence. At the time I gave\ +him no answer. Now I recalled every detail of that meeting and in my\ +mind gave him the most malevolent and bitter replies. I recollected\ +myself and drove away that thought only when I found myself glowing with\ +anger, but I did not sufficiently repent. Afterwards Boris Drubetskoy\ +came and began relating various adventures. His coming vexed me from the\ +first, and I said something disagreeable to him. He replied. I flared up\ +and said much that was unpleasant and even rude to him. He became\ +silent, and I recollected myself only when it was too late. My God, I\ +cannot get on with him at all. The cause of this is my egotism. I set\ +myself above him and so become much worse than he, for he is lenient to\ +my rudeness while I on the contrary nourish contempt for him. O God,\ +grant that in his presence I may rather see my own vileness, and behave\ +so that he too may benefit. After dinner I fell asleep and as I was\ +drowsing off I clearly heard a voice saying in my left ear, "Thy day!"\ +\ +I dreamed that I was walking in the dark and was suddenly surrounded by\ +dogs, but I went on undismayed. Suddenly a smallish dog seized my left\ +thigh with its teeth and would not let go. I began to throttle it with\ +my hands. Scarcely had I torn it off before another, a bigger one, began\ +biting me. I lifted it up, but the higher I lifted it the bigger and\ +heavier it grew. And suddenly Brother A. came and, taking my arm, led me\ +to a building to enter which we had to pass along a narrow plank. I\ +stepped on it, but it bent and gave way and I began to clamber up a\ +fence which I could scarcely reach with my hands. After much effort I\ +dragged myself up, so that my leg hung down on one side and my body on\ +the other. I looked round and saw Brother A. standing on the fence and\ +pointing me to a broad avenue and garden, and in the garden was a large\ +and beautiful building. I woke up. O Lord, great Architect of Nature,\ +help me to tear from myself these dogs--my passions especially the last,\ +which unites in itself the strength of all the former ones, and aid me\ +to enter that temple of virtue to a vision of which I attained in my\ +dream.\ +\ +7th December\ +\ +I dreamed that Joseph Alexeevich was sitting in my house, and that I was\ +very glad and wished to entertain him. It seemed as if I chattered\ +incessantly with other people and suddenly remembered that this could\ +not please him, and I wished to come close to him and embrace him. But\ +as soon as I drew near I saw that his face had changed and grown young,\ +and he was quietly telling me something about the teaching of our order,\ +but so softly that I could not hear it. Then it seemed that we all left\ +the room and something strange happened. We were sitting or lying on the\ +floor. He was telling me something, and I wished to show him my\ +sensibility, and not listening to what he was saying I began picturing\ +to myself the condition of my inner man and the grace of God sanctifying\ +me. And tears came into my eyes, and I was glad he noticed this. But he\ +looked at me with vexation and jumped up, breaking off his remarks. I\ +felt abashed and asked whether what he had been saying did not concern\ +me; but he did not reply, gave me a kind look, and then we suddenly\ +found ourselves in my bedroom where there is a double bed. He lay down\ +on the edge of it and I burned with longing to caress him and lie down\ +too. And he said, "Tell me frankly what is your chief temptation? Do you\ +know it? I think you know it already." Abashed by this question, I\ +replied that sloth was my chief temptation. He shook his head\ +incredulously; and even more abashed, I said that though I was living\ +with my wife as he advised, I was not living with her as her husband. To\ +this he replied that one should not deprive a wife of one's embraces and\ +gave me to understand that that was my duty. But I replied that I should\ +be ashamed to do it, and suddenly everything vanished. And I awoke and\ +found in my mind the text from the Gospel: "The life was the light of\ +men. And the light shineth in darkness; and the darkness comprehended it\ +not." Joseph Alexeevich's face had looked young and bright. That day I\ +received a letter from my benefactor in which he wrote about "conjugal\ +duties."\ +\ +9th December\ +\ +I had a dream from which I awoke with a throbbing heart. I saw that I\ +was in Moscow in my house, in the big sitting room, and Joseph\ +Alexeevich came in from the drawing room. I seemed to know at once that\ +the process of regeneration had already taken place in him, and I rushed\ +to meet him. I embraced him and kissed his hands, and he said, "Hast\ +thou noticed that my face is different?" I looked at him, still holding\ +him in my arms, and saw that his face was young, but that he had no hair\ +on his head and his features were quite changed. And I said, "I should\ +have known you had I met you by chance," and I thought to myself, "Am I\ +telling the truth?" And suddenly I saw him lying like a dead body; then\ +he gradually recovered and went with me into my study carrying a large\ +book of sheets of drawing paper; I said, "I drew that," and he answered\ +by bowing his head. I opened the book, and on all the pages there were\ +excellent drawings. And in my dream I knew that these drawings\ +represented the love adventures of the soul with its beloved. And on its\ +pages I saw a beautiful representation of a maiden in transparent\ +garments and with a transparent body, flying up to the clouds. And I\ +seemed to know that this maiden was nothing else than a representation\ +of the Song of Songs. And looking at those drawings I dreamed I felt\ +that I was doing wrong, but could not tear myself away from them. Lord,\ +help me! My God, if Thy forsaking me is Thy doing, Thy will be done; but\ +if I am myself the cause, teach me what I should do! I shall perish of\ +my debauchery if Thou utterly desertest me!\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XI\ +\ +The Rostovs' monetary affairs had not improved during the two years they\ +had spent in the country.\ +\ +Though Nicholas Rostov had kept firmly to his resolution and was still\ +serving modestly in an obscure regiment, spending comparatively little,\ +the way of life at Otradnoe--Mitenka's management of affairs, in\ +particular--was such that the debts inevitably increased every year. The\ +only resource obviously presenting itself to the old count was to apply\ +for an official post, so he had come to Petersburg to look for one and\ +also, as he said, to let the lassies enjoy themselves for the last time.\ +\ +Soon after their arrival in Petersburg Berg proposed to Vera and was\ +accepted.\ +\ +Though in Moscow the Rostovs belonged to the best society without\ +themselves giving it a thought, yet in Petersburg their circle of\ +acquaintances was a mixed and indefinite one. In Petersburg they were\ +provincials, and the very people they had entertained in Moscow without\ +inquiring to what set they belonged, here looked down on them.\ +\ +The Rostovs lived in the same hospitable way in Petersburg as in Moscow,\ +and the most diverse people met at their suppers. Country neighbors from\ +Otradnoe, impoverished old squires and their daughters, Peronskaya a\ +maid of honor, Pierre Bezukhov, and the son of their district postmaster\ +who had obtained a post in Petersburg. Among the men who very soon\ +became frequent visitors at the Rostovs' house in Petersburg were Boris,\ +Pierre whom the count had met in the street and dragged home with him,\ +and Berg who spent whole days at the Rostovs' and paid the eldest\ +daughter, Countess Vera, the attentions a young man pays when he intends\ +to propose.\ +\ +Not in vain had Berg shown everybody his right hand wounded at\ +Austerlitz and held a perfectly unnecessary sword in his left. He\ +narrated that episode so persistently and with so important an air that\ +everyone believed in the merit and usefulness of his deed, and he had\ +obtained two decorations for Austerlitz.\ +\ +In the Finnish war he also managed to distinguish himself. He had picked\ +up the scrap of a grenade that had killed an aide-de-camp standing near\ +the commander-in-chief and had taken it to his commander. Just as he had\ +done after Austerlitz, he related this occurrence at such length and so\ +insistently that everyone again believed it had been necessary to do\ +this, and he received two decorations for the Finnish war also. In 1809\ +he was a captain in the Guards, wore medals, and held some special\ +lucrative posts in Petersburg.\ +\ +Though some skeptics smiled when told of Berg's merits, it could not be\ +denied that he was a painstaking and brave officer, on excellent terms\ +with his superiors, and a moral young man with a brilliant career before\ +him and an assured position in society.\ +\ +Four years before, meeting a German comrade in the stalls of a Moscow\ +theater, Berg had pointed out Vera Rostova to him and had said in\ +German, "das soll mein Weib werden," * and from that moment had made up\ +his mind to marry her. Now in Petersburg, having considered the Rostovs'\ +position and his own, he decided that the time had come to propose.\ +\ +\ +* "That girl shall be my wife."\ +\ +Berg's proposal was at first received with a perplexity that was not\ +flattering to him. At first it seemed strange that the son of an obscure\ +Livonian gentleman should propose marriage to a Countess Rostova; but\ +Berg's chief characteristic was such a naive and good natured egotism\ +that the Rostovs involuntarily came to think it would be a good thing,\ +since he himself was so firmly convinced that it was good, indeed\ +excellent. Moreover, the Rostovs' affairs were seriously embarrassed, as\ +the suitor could not but know; and above all, Vera was twenty-four, had\ +been taken out everywhere, and though she was certainly good-looking and\ +sensible, no one up to now had proposed to her. So they gave their\ +consent.\ +\ +"You see," said Berg to his comrade, whom he called "friend" only\ +because he knew that everyone has friends, "you see, I have considered\ +it all, and should not marry if I had not thought it all out or if it\ +were in any way unsuitable. But on the contrary, my papa and mamma are\ +now provided for--I have arranged that rent for them in the Baltic\ +Provinces--and I can live in Petersburg on my pay, and with her fortune\ +and my good management we can get along nicely. I am not marrying for\ +money--I consider that dishonorable--but a wife should bring her share\ +and a husband his. I have my position in the service, she has\ +connections and some means. In our times that is worth something, isn't\ +it? But above all, she is a handsome, estimable girl, and she loves\ +me..."\ +\ +Berg blushed and smiled.\ +\ +"And I love her, because her character is sensible and very good. Now\ +the other sister, though they are the same family, is quite different--\ +an unpleasant character and has not the same intelligence. She is so...\ +you know?... Unpleasant... But my fiancee!... Well, you will be coming,"\ +he was going to say, "to dine," but changed his mind and said "to take\ +tea with us," and quickly doubling up his tongue he blew a small round\ +ring of tobacco smoke, perfectly embodying his dream of happiness.\ +\ +After the first feeling of perplexity aroused in the parents by Berg's\ +proposal, the holiday tone of joyousness usual at such times took\ +possession of the family, but the rejoicing was external and insincere.\ +In the family's feeling toward this wedding a certain awkwardness and\ +constraint was evident, as if they were ashamed of not having loved Vera\ +sufficiently and of being so ready to get her off their hands. The old\ +count felt this most. He would probably have been unable to state the\ +cause of his embarrassment, but it resulted from the state of his\ +affairs. He did not know at all how much he had, what his debts amounted\ +to, or what dowry he could give Vera. When his daughters were born he\ +had assigned to each of them, for her dowry, an estate with three\ +hundred serfs; but one of these estates had already been sold, and the\ +other was mortgaged and the interest so much in arrears that it would\ +have to be sold, so that it was impossible to give it to Vera. Nor had\ +he any money.\ +\ +Berg had already been engaged a month, and only a week remained before\ +the wedding, but the count had not yet decided in his own mind the\ +question of the dowry, nor spoken to his wife about it. At one time the\ +count thought of giving her the Ryazan estate or of selling a forest, at\ +another time of borrowing money on a note of hand. A few days before the\ +wedding Berg entered the count's study early one morning and, with a\ +pleasant smile, respectfully asked his future father-in-law to let him\ +know what Vera's dowry would be. The count was so disconcerted by this\ +long-foreseen inquiry that without consideration he gave the first reply\ +that came into his head. "I like your being businesslike about it.... I\ +like it. You shall be satisfied...."\ +\ +And patting Berg on the shoulder he got up, wishing to end the\ +conversation. But Berg, smiling pleasantly, explained that if he did not\ +know for certain how much Vera would have and did not receive at least\ +part of the dowry in advance, he would have to break matters off.\ +\ +"Because, consider, Count--if I allowed myself to marry now without\ +having definite means to maintain my wife, I should be acting badly...."\ +\ +The conversation ended by the count, who wished to be generous and to\ +avoid further importunity, saying that he would give a note of hand for\ +eighty thousand rubles. Berg smiled meekly, kissed the count on the\ +shoulder, and said that he was very grateful, but that it was impossible\ +for him to arrange his new life without receiving thirty thousand in\ +ready money. "Or at least twenty thousand, Count," he added, "and then a\ +note of hand for only sixty thousand."\ +\ +"Yes, yes, all right!" said the count hurriedly. "Only excuse me, my\ +dear fellow, I'll give you twenty thousand and a note of hand for eighty\ +thousand as well. Yes, yes! Kiss me."\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XII\ +\ +Natasha was sixteen and it was the year 1809, the very year to which she\ +had counted on her fingers with Boris after they had kissed four years\ +ago. Since then she had not seen him. Before Sonya and her mother, if\ +Boris happened to be mentioned, she spoke quite freely of that episode\ +as of some childish, long-forgotten matter that was not worth\ +mentioning. But in the secret depths of her soul the question whether\ +her engagement to Boris was a jest or an important, binding promise\ +tormented her.\ +\ +Since Boris left Moscow in 1805 to join the army he had not seen the\ +Rostovs. He had been in Moscow several times, and had passed near\ +Otradnoe, but had never been to see them.\ +\ +Sometimes it occurred to Natasha that he did not wish to see her, and\ +this conjecture was confirmed by the sad tone in which her elders spoke\ +of him.\ +\ +"Nowadays old friends are not remembered," the countess would say when\ +Boris was mentioned.\ +\ +Anna Mikhaylovna also had of late visited them less frequently, seemed\ +to hold herself with particular dignity, and always spoke rapturously\ +and gratefully of the merits of her son and the brilliant career on\ +which he had entered. When the Rostovs came to Petersburg Boris called\ +on them.\ +\ +He drove to their house in some agitation. The memory of Natasha was his\ +most poetic recollection. But he went with the firm intention of letting\ +her and her parents feel that the childish relations between himself and\ +Natasha could not be binding either on her or on him. He had a brilliant\ +position in society thanks to his intimacy with Countess Bezukhova, a\ +brilliant position in the service thanks to the patronage of an\ +important personage whose complete confidence he enjoyed, and he was\ +beginning to make plans for marrying one of the richest heiresses in\ +Petersburg, plans which might very easily be realized. When he entered\ +the Rostovs' drawing room Natasha was in her own room. When she heard of\ +his arrival she almost ran into the drawing room, flushed and beaming\ +with a more than cordial smile.\ +\ +Boris remembered Natasha in a short dress, with dark eyes shining from\ +under her curls and boisterous, childish laughter, as he had known her\ +four years before; and so he was taken aback when quite a different\ +Natasha entered, and his face expressed rapturous astonishment. This\ +expression on his face pleased Natasha.\ +\ +"Well, do you recognize your little madcap playmate?" asked the\ +countess.\ +\ +Boris kissed Natasha's hand and said that he was astonished at the\ +change in her.\ +\ +"How handsome you have grown!"\ +\ +"I should think so!" replied Natasha's laughing eyes.\ +\ +"And is Papa older?" she asked.\ +\ +Natasha sat down and, without joining in Boris' conversation with the\ +countess, silently and minutely studied her childhood's suitor. He felt\ +the weight of that resolute and affectionate scrutiny and glanced at her\ +occasionally.\ +\ +Boris' uniform, spurs, tie, and the way his hair was brushed were all\ +comme il faut and in the latest fashion. This Natasha noticed at once.\ +He sat rather sideways in the armchair next to the countess, arranging\ +with his right hand the cleanest of gloves that fitted his left hand\ +like a skin, and he spoke with a particularly refined compression of his\ +lips about the amusements of the highest Petersburg society, recalling\ +with mild irony old times in Moscow and Moscow acquaintances. It was not\ +accidentally, Natasha felt, that he alluded, when speaking of the\ +highest aristocracy, to an ambassador's ball he had attended, and to\ +invitations he had received from N.N. and S.S.\ +\ +All this time Natasha sat silent, glancing up at him from under her\ +brows. This gaze disturbed and confused Boris more and more. He looked\ +round more frequently toward her, and broke off in what he was saying.\ +He did not stay more than ten minutes, then rose and took his leave. The\ +same inquisitive, challenging, and rather mocking eyes still looked at\ +him. After his first visit Boris said to himself that Natasha attracted\ +him just as much as ever, but that he must not yield to that feeling,\ +because to marry her, a girl almost without fortune, would mean ruin to\ +his career, while to renew their former relations without intending to\ +marry her would be dishonorable. Boris made up his mind to avoid meeting\ +Natasha, but despite that resolution he called again a few days later\ +and began calling often and spending whole days at the Rostovs'. It\ +seemed to him that he ought to have an explanation with Natasha and tell\ +her that the old times must be forgotten, that in spite of everything...\ +she could not be his wife, that he had no means, and they would never\ +let her marry him. But he failed to do so and felt awkward about\ +entering on such an explanation. From day to day he became more and more\ +entangled. It seemed to her mother and Sonya that Natasha was in love\ +with Boris as of old. She sang him his favorite songs, showed him her\ +album, making him write in it, did not allow him to allude to the past,\ +letting it be understood how delightful was the present; and every day\ +he went away in a fog, without having said what he meant to, and not\ +knowing what he was doing or why he came, or how it would all end. He\ +left off visiting Helene and received reproachful notes from her every\ +day, and yet he continued to spend whole days with the Rostovs.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XIII\ +\ +One night when the old countess, in nightcap and dressing jacket,\ +without her false curls, and with her poor little knob of hair showing\ +under her white cotton cap, knelt sighing and groaning on a rug and\ +bowing to the ground in prayer, her door creaked and Natasha, also in a\ +dressing jacket with slippers on her bare feet and her hair in\ +curlpapers, ran in. The countess--her prayerful mood dispelled--looked\ +round and frowned. She was finishing her last prayer: "Can it be that\ +this couch will be my grave?" Natasha, flushed and eager, seeing her\ +mother in prayer, suddenly checked her rush, half sat down, and\ +unconsciously put out her tongue as if chiding herself. Seeing that her\ +mother was still praying she ran on tiptoe to the bed and, rapidly\ +slipping one little foot against the other, pushed off her slippers and\ +jumped onto the bed the countess had feared might become her grave. This\ +couch was high, with a feather bed and five pillows each smaller than\ +the one below. Natasha jumped on it, sank into the feather bed, rolled\ +over to the wall, and began snuggling up the bedclothes as she settled\ +down, raising her knees to her chin, kicking out and laughing almost\ +inaudibly, now covering herself up head and all, and now peeping at her\ +mother. The countess finished her prayers and came to the bed with a\ +stern face, but seeing, that Natasha's head was covered, she smiled in\ +her kind, weak way.\ +\ +"Now then, now then!" said she.\ +\ +"Mamma, can we have a talk? Yes?" said Natasha. "Now, just one on your\ +throat and another... that'll do!" And seizing her mother round the\ +neck, she kissed her on the throat. In her behavior to her mother\ +Natasha seemed rough, but she was so sensitive and tactful that however\ +she clasped her mother she always managed to do it without hurting her\ +or making her feel uncomfortable or displeased.\ +\ +"Well, what is it tonight?" said the mother, having arranged her pillows\ +and waited until Natasha, after turning over a couple of times, had\ +settled down beside her under the quilt, spread out her arms, and\ +assumed a serious expression.\ +\ +These visits of Natasha's at night before the count returned from his\ +club were one of the greatest pleasures of both mother, and daughter.\ +\ +"What is it tonight?--But I have to tell you..."\ +\ +Natasha put her hand on her mother's mouth.\ +\ +"About Boris... I know," she said seriously; "that's what I have come\ +about. Don't say it--I know. No, do tell me!" and she removed her hand.\ +"Tell me, Mamma! He's nice?"\ +\ +"Natasha, you are sixteen. At your age I was married. You say Boris is\ +nice. He is very nice, and I love him like a son. But what then?... What\ +are you thinking about? You have quite turned his head, I can see\ +that...."\ +\ +As she said this the countess looked round at her daughter. Natasha was\ +lying looking steadily straight before her at one of the mahogany\ +sphinxes carved on the corners of the bedstead, so that the countess\ +only saw her daughter's face in profile. That face struck her by its\ +peculiarly serious and concentrated expression.\ +\ +Natasha was listening and considering.\ +\ +"Well, what then?" said she.\ +\ +"You have quite turned his head, and why? What do you want of him? You\ +know you can't marry him."\ +\ +"Why not?" said Natasha, without changing her position.\ +\ +"Because he is young, because he is poor, because he is a relation...\ +and because you yourself don't love him."\ +\ +"How do you know?"\ +\ +"I know. It is not right, darling!"\ +\ +\ +"But if I want to..." said Natasha.\ +\ +"Leave off talking nonsense," said the countess.\ +\ +"But if I want to..."\ +\ +"Natasha, I am in earnest..."\ +\ +Natasha did not let her finish. She drew the countess' large hand to\ +her, kissed it on the back and then on the palm, then again turned it\ +over and began kissing first one knuckle, then the space between the\ +knuckles, then the next knuckle, whispering, "January, February, March,\ +April, May. Speak, Mamma, why don't you say anything? Speak!" said she,\ +turning to her mother, who was tenderly gazing at her daughter and in\ +that contemplation seemed to have forgotten all she had wished to say.\ +\ +"It won't do, my love! Not everyone will understand this friendship\ +dating from your childish days, and to see him so intimate with you may\ +injure you in the eyes of other young men who visit us, and above all it\ +torments him for nothing. He may already have found a suitable and\ +wealthy match, and now he's half crazy."\ +\ +"Crazy?" repeated Natasha.\ +\ +"I'll tell you some things about myself. I had a cousin..."\ +\ +"I know! Cyril Matveich... but he is old."\ +\ +"He was not always old. But this is what I'll do, Natasha, I'll have a\ +talk with Boris. He need not come so often...."\ +\ +"Why not, if he likes to?"\ +\ +"Because I know it will end in nothing...."\ +\ +"How can you know? No, Mamma, don't speak to him! What nonsense!" said\ +Natasha in the tone of one being deprived of her property. "Well, I\ +won't marry, but let him come if he enjoys it and I enjoy it." Natasha\ +smiled and looked at her mother. "Not to marry, but just so," she added.\ +\ +"How so, my pet?"\ +\ +"Just so. There's no need for me to marry him. But... just so."\ +\ +"Just so, just so," repeated the countess, and shaking all over, she\ +went off into a good humored, unexpected, elderly laugh.\ +\ +"Don't laugh, stop!" cried Natasha. "You're shaking the whole bed!\ +You're awfully like me, just such another giggler.... Wait..." and she\ +seized the countess' hands and kissed a knuckle of the little finger,\ +saying, "June," and continued, kissing, "July, August," on the other\ +hand. "But, Mamma, is he very much in love? What do you think? Was\ +anybody ever so much in love with you? And he's very nice, very, very\ +nice. Only not quite my taste--he is so narrow, like the dining-room\ +clock.... Don't you understand? Narrow, you know--gray, light gray..."\ +\ +"What rubbish you're talking!" said the countess.\ +\ +Natasha continued: "Don't you really understand? Nicholas would\ +understand.... Bezukhov, now, is blue, dark-blue and red, and he is\ +square."\ +\ +"You flirt with him too," said the countess, laughing.\ +\ +"No, he is a Freemason, I have found out. He is fine, dark-blue and\ +red.... How can I explain it to you?"\ +\ +"Little countess!" the count's voice called from behind the door.\ +"You're not asleep?" Natasha jumped up, snatched up her slippers, and\ +ran barefoot to her own room.\ +\ +It was a long time before she could sleep. She kept thinking that no one\ +could understand all that she understood and all there was in her.\ +\ +"Sonya?" she thought, glancing at that curled-up, sleeping little kitten\ +with her enormous plait of hair. "No, how could she? She's virtuous. She\ +fell in love with Nicholas and does not wish to know anything more. Even\ +Mamma does not understand. It is wonderful how clever I am and how...\ +charming she is," she went on, speaking of herself in the third person,\ +and imagining it was some very wise man--the wisest and best of men--who\ +was saying it of her. "There is everything, everything in her,"\ +continued this man. "She is unusually intelligent, charming... and then\ +she is pretty, uncommonly pretty, and agile--she swims and rides\ +splendidly... and her voice! One can really say it's a wonderful voice!"\ +\ +She hummed a scrap from her favorite opera by Cherubini, threw herself\ +on her bed, laughed at the pleasant thought that she would immediately\ +fall asleep, called Dunyasha the maid to put out the candle, and before\ +Dunyasha had left the room had already passed into yet another happier\ +world of dreams, where everything was as light and beautiful as in\ +reality, and even more so because it was different.\ +\ +Next day the countess called Boris aside and had a talk with him, after\ +which he ceased coming to the Rostovs'.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XIV\ +\ +On the thirty-first of December, New Year's Eve, 1809 - 10 an old\ +grandee of Catherine's day was giving a ball and midnight supper. The\ +diplomatic corps and the Emperor himself were to be present.\ +\ +The grandee's well-known mansion on the English Quay glittered with\ +innumerable lights. Police were stationed at the brightly lit entrance\ +which was carpeted with red baize, and not only gendarmes but dozens of\ +police officers and even the police master himself stood at the porch.\ +Carriages kept driving away and fresh ones arriving, with red-liveried\ +footmen and footmen in plumed hats. From the carriages emerged men\ +wearing uniforms, stars, and ribbons, while ladies in satin and ermine\ +cautiously descended the carriage steps which were let down for them\ +with a clatter, and then walked hurriedly and noiselessly over the baize\ +at the entrance.\ +\ +Almost every time a new carriage drove up a whisper ran through the\ +crowd and caps were doffed.\ +\ +"The Emperor?... No, a minister.... prince... ambassador. Don't you see\ +the plumes?..." was whispered among the crowd.\ +\ +One person, better dressed than the rest, seemed to know everyone and\ +mentioned by name the greatest dignitaries of the day.\ +\ +A third of the visitors had already arrived, but the Rostovs, who were\ +to be present, were still hurrying to get dressed.\ +\ +There had been many discussions and preparations for this ball in the\ +Rostov family, many fears that the invitation would not arrive, that the\ +dresses would not be ready, or that something would not be arranged as\ +it should be.\ +\ +Marya Ignatevna Peronskaya, a thin and shallow maid of honor at the\ +court of the Dowager Empress, who was a friend and relation of the\ +countess and piloted the provincial Rostovs in Petersburg high society,\ +was to accompany them to the ball.\ +\ +They were to call for her at her house in the Taurida Gardens at ten\ +o'clock, but it was already five minutes to ten, and the girls were not\ +yet dressed.\ +\ +Natasha was going to her first grand ball. She had got up at eight that\ +morning and had been in a fever of excitement and activity all day. All\ +her powers since morning had been concentrated on ensuring that they\ +all--she herself, Mamma, and Sonya--should be as well dressed as\ +possible. Sonya and her mother put themselves entirely in her hands. The\ +countess was to wear a claret-colored velvet dress, and the two girls\ +white gauze over pink silk slips, with roses on their bodices and their\ +hair dressed a la grecque.\ +\ +Everything essential had already been done; feet, hands, necks, and ears\ +washed, perfumed, and powdered, as befits a ball; the openwork silk\ +stockings and white satin shoes with ribbons were already on; the\ +hairdressing was almost done. Sonya was finishing dressing and so was\ +the countess, but Natasha, who had bustled about helping them all, was\ +behindhand. She was still sitting before a looking-glass with a dressing\ +jacket thrown over her slender shoulders. Sonya stood ready dressed in\ +the middle of the room and, pressing the head of a pin till it hurt her\ +dainty finger, was fixing on a last ribbon that squeaked as the pin went\ +through it.\ +\ +"That's not the way, that's not the way, Sonya!" cried Natasha turning\ +her head and clutching with both hands at her hair which the maid who\ +was dressing it had not time to release. "That bow is not right. Come\ +here!"\ +\ +Sonya sat down and Natasha pinned the ribbon on differently.\ +\ +"Allow me, Miss! I can't do it like that," said the maid who was holding\ +Natasha's hair.\ +\ +"Oh, dear! Well then, wait. That's right, Sonya."\ +\ +"Aren't you ready? It is nearly ten," came the countess' voice.\ +\ +"Directly! Directly! And you, Mamma?"\ +\ +"I have only my cap to pin on."\ +\ +"Don't do it without me!" called Natasha. "You won't do it right."\ +\ +"But it's already ten."\ +\ +They had decided to be at the ball by half past ten, and Natasha had\ +still to get dressed and they had to call at the Taurida Gardens.\ +\ +When her hair was done, Natasha, in her short petticoat from under which\ +her dancing shoes showed, and in her mother's dressing jacket, ran up to\ +Sonya, scrutinized her, and then ran to her mother. Turning her mother's\ +head this way and that, she fastened on the cap and, hurriedly kissing\ +her gray hair, ran back to the maids who were turning up the hem of her\ +skirt.\ +\ +The cause of the delay was Natasha's skirt, which was too long. Two\ +maids were turning up the hem and hurriedly biting off the ends of\ +thread. A third with pins in her mouth was running about between the\ +countess and Sonya, and a fourth held the whole of the gossamer garment\ +up high on one uplifted hand.\ +\ +"Mavra, quicker, darling!"\ +\ +"Give me my thimble, Miss, from there..."\ +\ +"Whenever will you be ready?" asked the count coming to the door. "Here\ +is some scent. Peronskaya must be tired of waiting."\ +\ +"It's ready, Miss," said the maid, holding up the shortened gauze dress\ +with two fingers, and blowing and shaking something off it, as if by\ +this to express a consciousness of the airiness and purity of what she\ +held.\ +\ +Natasha began putting on the dress.\ +\ +"In a minute! In a minute! Don't come in, Papa!" she cried to her father\ +as he opened the door--speaking from under the filmy skirt which still\ +covered her whole face.\ +\ +Sonya slammed the door to. A minute later they let the count in. He was\ +wearing a blue swallow-tail coat, shoes and stockings, and was perfumed\ +and his hair pomaded.\ +\ +"Oh, Papa! how nice you look! Charming!" cried Natasha, as she stood in\ +the middle of the room smoothing out the folds of the gauze.\ +\ +"If you please, Miss! allow me," said the maid, who on her knees was\ +pulling the skirt straight and shifting the pins from one side of her\ +mouth to the other with her tongue.\ +\ +"Say what you like," exclaimed Sonya, in a despairing voice as she\ +looked at Natasha, "say what you like, it's still too long."\ +\ +Natasha stepped back to look at herself in the pier glass. The dress was\ +too long.\ +\ +"Really, madam, it is not at all too long," said Mavra, crawling on her\ +knees after her young lady.\ +\ +"Well, if it's too long we'll tack it up... we'll tack it up in one\ +minute," said the resolute Dunyasha taking a needle that was stuck on\ +the front of her little shawl and, still kneeling on the floor, set to\ +work once more.\ +\ +At that moment, with soft steps, the countess came in shyly, in her cap\ +and velvet gown.\ +\ +"Oo-oo, my beauty!" exclaimed the count, "she looks better than any of\ +you!"\ +\ +He would have embraced her but, blushing, she stepped aside fearing to\ +be rumpled.\ +\ +"Mamma, your cap, more to this side," said Natasha. "I'll arrange it,"\ +and she rushed forward so that the maids who were tacking up her skirt\ +could not move fast enough and a piece of gauze was torn off.\ +\ +"Oh goodness! What has happened? Really it was not my fault!"\ +\ +"Never mind, I'll run it up, it won't show," said Dunyasha.\ +\ +"What a beauty--a very queen!" said the nurse as she came to the door.\ +"And Sonya! They are lovely!"\ +\ +At a quarter past ten they at last got into their carriages and started.\ +But they had still to call at the Taurida Gardens.\ +\ +Peronskaya was quite ready. In spite of her age and plainness she had\ +gone through the same process as the Rostovs, but with less flurry--for\ +to her it was a matter of routine. Her ugly old body was washed,\ +perfumed, and powdered in just the same way. She had washed behind her\ +ears just as carefully, and when she entered her drawing room in her\ +yellow dress, wearing her badge as maid of honor, her old lady's maid\ +was as full of rapturous admiration as the Rostovs' servants had been.\ +\ +She praised the Rostovs' toilets. They praised her taste and toilet, and\ +at eleven o'clock, careful of their coiffures and dresses, they settled\ +themselves in their carriages and drove off.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XV\ +\ +Natasha had not had a moment free since early morning and had not once\ +had time to think of what lay before her.\ +\ +In the damp chill air and crowded closeness of the swaying carriage, she\ +for the first time vividly imagined what was in store for her there at\ +the ball, in those brightly lighted rooms--with music, flowers, dances,\ +the Emperor, and all the brilliant young people of Petersburg. The\ +prospect was so splendid that she hardly believed it would come true, so\ +out of keeping was it with the chill darkness and closeness of the\ +carriage. She understood all that awaited her only when, after stepping\ +over the red baize at the entrance, she entered the hall, took off her\ +fur cloak, and, beside Sonya and in front of her mother, mounted the\ +brightly illuminated stairs between the flowers. Only then did she\ +remember how she must behave at a ball, and tried to assume the majestic\ +air she considered indispensable for a girl on such an occasion. But,\ +fortunately for her, she felt her eyes growing misty, she saw nothing\ +clearly, her pulse beat a hundred to the minute, and the blood throbbed\ +at her heart. She could not assume that pose, which would have made her\ +ridiculous, and she moved on almost fainting from excitement and trying\ +with all her might to conceal it. And this was the very attitude that\ +became her best. Before and behind them other visitors were entering,\ +also talking in low tones and wearing ball dresses. The mirrors on the\ +landing reflected ladies in white, pale-blue, and pink dresses, with\ +diamonds and pearls on their bare necks and arms.\ +\ +Natasha looked in the mirrors and could not distinguish her reflection\ +from the others. All was blended into one brilliant procession. On\ +entering the ballroom the regular hum of voices, footsteps, and\ +greetings deafened Natasha, and the light and glitter dazzled her still\ +more. The host and hostess, who had already been standing at the door\ +for half an hour repeating the same words to the various arrivals,\ +"Charme de vous voir," * greeted the Rostovs and Peronskaya in the same\ +manner.\ +\ +\ +* "Delighted to see you."\ +\ +The two girls in their white dresses, each with a rose in her black\ +hair, both curtsied in the same way, but the hostess' eye involuntarily\ +rested longer on the slim Natasha. She looked at her and gave her alone\ +a special smile in addition to her usual smile as hostess. Looking at\ +her she may have recalled the golden, irrecoverable days of her own\ +girlhood and her own first ball. The host also followed Natasha with his\ +eyes and asked the count which was his daughter.\ +\ +"Charming!" said he, kissing the tips of his fingers.\ +\ +In the ballroom guests stood crowding at the entrance doors awaiting the\ +Emperor. The countess took up a position in one of the front rows of\ +that crowd. Natasha heard and felt that several people were asking about\ +her and looking at her. She realized that those noticing her liked her,\ +and this observation helped to calm her.\ +\ +"There are some like ourselves and some worse," she thought.\ +\ +Peronskaya was pointing out to the countess the most important people at\ +the ball.\ +\ +"That is the Dutch ambassador, do you see? That gray-haired man," she\ +said, indicating an old man with a profusion of silver-gray curly hair,\ +who was surrounded by ladies laughing at something he said.\ +\ +"Ah, here she is, the Queen of Petersburg, Countess Bezukhova," said\ +Peronskaya, indicating Helene who had just entered. "How lovely! She is\ +quite equal to Marya Antonovna. See how the men, young and old, pay\ +court to her. Beautiful and clever... they say Prince--is quite mad\ +about her. But see, those two, though not good-looking, are even more\ +run after."\ +\ +She pointed to a lady who was crossing the room followed by a very plain\ +daughter.\ +\ +"She is a splendid match, a millionairess," said Peronskaya. "And look,\ +here come her suitors."\ +\ +"That is Bezukhova's brother, Anatole Kuragin," she said, indicating a\ +handsome officer of the Horse Guards who passed by them with head erect,\ +looking at something over the heads of the ladies. "He's handsome, isn't\ +he? I hear they will marry him to that rich girl. But your cousin,\ +Drubetskoy, is also very attentive to her. They say she has millions. Oh\ +yes, that's the French ambassador himself!" she replied to the countess'\ +inquiry about Caulaincourt. "Looks as if he were a king! All the same,\ +the French are charming, very charming. No one more charming in society.\ +Ah, here she is! Yes, she is still the most beautiful of them all, our\ +Marya Antonovna! And how simply she is dressed! Lovely! And that stout\ +one in spectacles is the universal Freemason," she went on, indicating\ +Pierre. "Put him beside his wife and he looks a regular buffoon!"\ +\ +Pierre, swaying his stout body, advanced, making way through the crowd\ +and nodding to right and left as casually and good-naturedly as if he\ +were passing through a crowd at a fair. He pushed through, evidently\ +looking for someone.\ +\ +Natasha looked joyfully at the familiar face of Pierre, "the buffoon,"\ +as Peronskaya had called him, and knew he was looking for them, and for\ +her in particular. He had promised to be at the ball and introduce\ +partners to her.\ +\ +But before he reached them Pierre stopped beside a very handsome, dark\ +man of middle height, and in a white uniform, who stood by a window\ +talking to a tall man wearing stars and a ribbon. Natasha at once\ +recognized the shorter and younger man in the white uniform: it was\ +Bolkonski, who seemed to her to have grown much younger, happier, and\ +better-looking.\ +\ +"There's someone else we know--Bolkonski, do you see, Mamma?" said\ +Natasha, pointing out Prince Andrew. "You remember, he stayed a night\ +with us at Otradnoe."\ +\ +"Oh, you know him?" said Peronskaya. "I can't bear him. Il fait a\ +present la pluie et le beau temps. * He's too proud for anything. Takes\ +after his father. And he's hand in glove with Speranski, writing some\ +project or other. Just look how he treats the ladies! There's one\ +talking to him and he has turned away," she said, pointing at him. "I'd\ +give it to him if he treated me as he does those ladies."\ +\ +\ +* "He is all the rage just now."\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XVI\ +\ +Suddenly everybody stirred, began talking, and pressed forward and then\ +back, and between the two rows, which separated, the Emperor entered to\ +the sounds of music that had immediately struck up. Behind him walked\ +his host and hostess. He walked in rapidly, bowing to right and left as\ +if anxious to get the first moments of the reception over. The band\ +played the polonaise in vogue at that time on account of the words that\ +had been set to it, beginning: "Alexander, Elisaveta, all our hearts you\ +ravish quite..." The Emperor passed on to the drawing room, the crowd\ +made a rush for the doors, and several persons with excited faces\ +hurried there and back again. Then the crowd hastily retired from the\ +drawing-room door, at which the Emperor reappeared talking to the\ +hostess. A young man, looking distraught, pounced down on the ladies,\ +asking them to move aside. Some ladies, with faces betraying complete\ +forgetfulness of all the rules of decorum, pushed forward to the\ +detriment of their toilets. The men began to choose partners and take\ +their places for the polonaise.\ +\ +Everyone moved back, and the Emperor came smiling out of the drawing\ +room leading his hostess by the hand but not keeping time to the music.\ +The host followed with Marya Antonovna Naryshkina; then came\ +ambassadors, ministers, and various generals, whom Peronskaya diligently\ +named. More than half the ladies already had partners and were taking\ +up, or preparing to take up, their positions for the polonaise. Natasha\ +felt that she would be left with her mother and Sonya among a minority\ +of women who crowded near the wall, not having been invited to dance.\ +She stood with her slender arms hanging down, her scarcely defined bosom\ +rising and falling regularly, and with bated breath and glittering,\ +frightened eyes gazed straight before her, evidently prepared for the\ +height of joy or misery. She was not concerned about the Emperor or any\ +of those great people whom Peronskaya was pointing out--she had but one\ +thought: "Is it possible no one will ask me, that I shall not be among\ +the first to dance? Is it possible that not one of all these men will\ +notice me? They do not even seem to see me, or if they do they look as\ +if they were saying, 'Ah, she's not the one I'm after, so it's not worth\ +looking at her!' No, it's impossible," she thought. "They must know how\ +I long to dance, how splendidly I dance, and how they would enjoy\ +dancing with me."\ +\ +The strains of the polonaise, which had continued for a considerable\ +time, had begun to sound like a sad reminiscence to Natasha's ears. She\ +wanted to cry. Peronskaya had left them. The count was at the other end\ +of the room. She and the countess and Sonya were standing by themselves\ +as in the depths of a forest amid that crowd of strangers, with no one\ +interested in them and not wanted by anyone. Prince Andrew with a lady\ +passed by, evidently not recognizing them. The handsome Anatole was\ +smilingly talking to a partner on his arm and looked at Natasha as one\ +looks at a wall. Boris passed them twice and each time turned away. Berg\ +and his wife, who were not dancing, came up to them.\ +\ +This family gathering seemed humiliating to Natasha--as if there were\ +nowhere else for the family to talk but here at the ball. She did not\ +listen to or look at Vera, who was telling her something about her own\ +green dress.\ +\ +At last the Emperor stopped beside his last partner (he had danced with\ +three) and the music ceased. A worried aide-de-camp ran up to the\ +Rostovs requesting them to stand farther back, though as it was they\ +were already close to the wall, and from the gallery resounded the\ +distinct, precise, enticingly rhythmical strains of a waltz. The Emperor\ +looked smilingly down the room. A minute passed but no one had yet begun\ +dancing. An aide-de-camp, the Master of Ceremonies, went up to Countess\ +Bezukhova and asked her to dance. She smilingly raised her hand and laid\ +it on his shoulder without looking at him. The aide-de-camp, an adept in\ +his art, grasping his partner firmly round her waist, with confident\ +deliberation started smoothly, gliding first round the edge of the\ +circle, then at the corner of the room he caught Helene's left hand and\ +turned her, the only sound audible, apart from the ever-quickening\ +music, being the rhythmic click of the spurs on his rapid, agile feet,\ +while at every third beat his partner's velvet dress spread out and\ +seemed to flash as she whirled round. Natasha gazed at them and was\ +ready to cry because it was not she who was dancing that first turn of\ +the waltz.\ +\ +Prince Andrew, in the white uniform of a cavalry colonel, wearing\ +stockings and dancing shoes, stood looking animated and bright in the\ +front row of the circle not far from the Rostovs. Baron Firhoff was\ +talking to him about the first sitting of the Council of State to be\ +held next day. Prince Andrew, as one closely connected with Speranski\ +and participating in the work of the legislative commission, could give\ +reliable information about that sitting, concerning which various rumors\ +were current. But not listening to what Firhoff was saying, he was\ +gazing now at the sovereign and now at the men intending to dance who\ +had not yet gathered courage to enter the circle.\ +\ +Prince Andrew was watching these men abashed by the Emperor's presence,\ +and the women who were breathlessly longing to be asked to dance.\ +\ +Pierre came up to him and caught him by the arm.\ +\ +"You always dance. I have a protegee, the young Rostova, here. Ask her,"\ +he said.\ +\ +"Where is she?" asked Bolkonski. "Excuse me!" he added, turning to the\ +baron, "we will finish this conversation elsewhere--at a ball one must\ +dance." He stepped forward in the direction Pierre indicated. The\ +despairing, dejected expression of Natasha's face caught his eye. He\ +recognized her, guessed her feelings, saw that it was her debut,\ +remembered her conversation at the window, and with an expression of\ +pleasure on his face approached Countess Rostova.\ +\ +"Allow me to introduce you to my daughter," said the countess, with\ +heightened color.\ +\ +"I have the pleasure of being already acquainted, if the countess\ +remembers me," said Prince Andrew with a low and courteous bow quite\ +belying Peronskaya's remarks about his rudeness, and approaching Natasha\ +he held out his arm to grasp her waist before he had completed his\ +invitation. He asked her to waltz. That tremulous expression on\ +Natasha's face, prepared either for despair or rapture, suddenly\ +brightened into a happy, grateful, childlike smile.\ +\ +"I have long been waiting for you," that frightened happy little girl\ +seemed to say by the smile that replaced the threatened tears, as she\ +raised her hand to Prince Andrew's shoulder. They were the second couple\ +to enter the circle. Prince Andrew was one of the best dancers of his\ +day and Natasha danced exquisitely. Her little feet in their white satin\ +dancing shoes did their work swiftly, lightly, and independently of\ +herself, while her face beamed with ecstatic happiness. Her slender bare\ +arms and neck were not beautiful--compared to Helene's her shoulders\ +looked thin and her bosom undeveloped. But Helene seemed, as it were,\ +hardened by a varnish left by the thousands of looks that had scanned\ +her person, while Natasha was like a girl exposed for the first time,\ +who would have felt very much ashamed had she not been assured that this\ +was absolutely necessary.\ +\ +Prince Andrew liked dancing, and wishing to escape as quickly as\ +possible from the political and clever talk which everyone addressed to\ +him, wishing also to break up the circle of restraint he disliked,\ +caused by the Emperor's presence, he danced, and had chosen Natasha\ +because Pierre pointed her out to him and because she was the first\ +pretty girl who caught his eye; but scarcely had he embraced that\ +slender supple figure and felt her stirring so close to him and smiling\ +so near him than the wine of her charm rose to his head, and he felt\ +himself revived and rejuvenated when after leaving her he stood\ +breathing deeply and watching the other dancers.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XVII\ +\ +After Prince Andrew, Boris came up to ask Natasha for a dance, and then\ +the aide-de-camp who had opened the ball, and several other young men,\ +so that, flushed and happy, and passing on her superfluous partners to\ +Sonya, she did not cease dancing all the evening. She noticed and saw\ +nothing of what occupied everyone else. Not only did she fail to notice\ +that the Emperor talked a long time with the French ambassador, and how\ +particularly gracious he was to a certain lady, or that Prince So-and-so\ +and So-and-so did and said this and that, and that Helene had great\ +success and was honored by the special attention of So-and-so, but she\ +did not even see the Emperor, and only noticed that he had gone because\ +the ball became livelier after his departure. For one of the merry\ +cotillions before supper Prince Andrew was again her partner. He\ +reminded her of their first encounter in the Otradnoe avenue, and how\ +she had been unable to sleep that moonlight night, and told her how he\ +had involuntarily overheard her. Natasha blushed at that recollection\ +and tried to excuse herself, as if there had been something to be\ +ashamed of in what Prince Andrew had overheard.\ +\ +Like all men who have grown up in society, Prince Andrew liked meeting\ +someone there not of the conventional society stamp. And such was\ +Natasha, with her surprise, her delight, her shyness, and even her\ +mistakes in speaking French. With her he behaved with special care and\ +tenderness, sitting beside her and talking of the simplest and most\ +unimportant matters; he admired her shy grace. In the middle of the\ +cotillion, having completed one of the figures, Natasha, still out of\ +breath, was returning to her seat when another dancer chose her. She was\ +tired and panting and evidently thought of declining, but immediately\ +put her hand gaily on the man's shoulder, smiling at Prince Andrew.\ +\ +"I'd be glad to sit beside you and rest: I'm tired; but you see how they\ +keep asking me, and I'm glad of it, I'm happy and I love everybody, and\ +you and I understand it all," and much, much more was said in her smile.\ +When her partner left her Natasha ran across the room to choose two\ +ladies for the figure.\ +\ +"If she goes to her cousin first and then to another lady, she will be\ +my wife," said Prince Andrew to himself quite to his own surprise, as he\ +watched her. She did go first to her cousin.\ +\ +"What rubbish sometimes enters one's head!" thought Prince Andrew, "but\ +what is certain is that that girl is so charming, so original, that she\ +won't be dancing here a month before she will be married.... Such as she\ +are rare here," he thought, as Natasha, readjusting a rose that was\ +slipping on her bodice, settled herself beside him.\ +\ +When the cotillion was over the old count in his blue coat came up to\ +the dancers. He invited Prince Andrew to come and see them, and asked\ +his daughter whether she was enjoying herself. Natasha did not answer at\ +once but only looked up with a smile that said reproachfully: "How can\ +you ask such a question?"\ +\ +"I have never enjoyed myself so much before!" she said, and Prince\ +Andrew noticed how her thin arms rose quickly as if to embrace her\ +father and instantly dropped again. Natasha was happier than she had\ +ever been in her life. She was at that height of bliss when one becomes\ +completely kind and good and does not believe in the possibility of\ +evil, unhappiness, or sorrow.\ +\ +At that ball Pierre for the first time felt humiliated by the position\ +his wife occupied in court circles. He was gloomy and absent-minded. A\ +deep furrow ran across his forehead, and standing by a window he stared\ +over his spectacles seeing no one.\ +\ +On her way to supper Natasha passed him.\ +\ +Pierre's gloomy, unhappy look struck her. She stopped in front of him.\ +She wished to help him, to bestow on him the superabundance of her own\ +happiness.\ +\ +"How delightful it is, Count!" said she. "Isn't it?"\ +\ +Pierre smiled absent-mindedly, evidently not grasping what she said.\ +\ +"Yes, I am very glad," he said.\ +\ +"How can people be dissatisfied with anything?" thought Natasha.\ +"Especially such a capital fellow as Bezukhov!" In Natasha's eyes all\ +the people at the ball alike were good, kind, and splendid people,\ +loving one another; none of them capable of injuring another--and so\ +they ought all to be happy.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XVIII\ +\ +Next day Prince Andrew thought of the ball, but his mind did not dwell\ +on it long. "Yes, it was a very brilliant ball," and then... "Yes, that\ +little Rostova is very charming. There's something fresh, original, un-\ +Petersburg-like about her that distinguishes her." That was all he\ +thought about yesterday's ball, and after his morning tea he set to\ +work.\ +\ +But either from fatigue or want of sleep he was ill-disposed for work\ +and could get nothing done. He kept criticizing his own work, as he\ +often did, and was glad when he heard someone coming.\ +\ +The visitor was Bitski, who served on various committees, frequented all\ +the societies in Petersburg, and a passionate devotee of the new ideas\ +and of Speranski, and a diligent Petersburg newsmonger--one of those men\ +who choose their opinions like their clothes according to the fashion,\ +but who for that very reason appear to be the warmest partisans. Hardly\ +had he got rid of his hat before he ran into Prince Andrew's room with a\ +preoccupied air and at once began talking. He had just heard particulars\ +of that morning's sitting of the Council of State opened by the Emperor,\ +and he spoke of it enthusiastically. The Emperor's speech had been\ +extraordinary. It had been a speech such as only constitutional monarchs\ +deliver. "The Sovereign plainly said that the Council and Senate are\ +estates of the realm, he said that the government must rest not on\ +authority but on secure bases. The Emperor said that the fiscal system\ +must be reorganized and the accounts published," recounted Bitski,\ +emphasizing certain words and opening his eyes significantly.\ +\ +"Ah, yes! Today's events mark an epoch, the greatest epoch in our\ +history," he concluded.\ +\ +Prince Andrew listened to the account of the opening of the Council of\ +State, which he had so impatiently awaited and to which he had attached\ +such importance, and was surprised that this event, now that it had\ +taken place, did not affect him, and even seemed quite insignificant. He\ +listened with quiet irony to Bitski's enthusiastic account of it. A very\ +simple thought occurred to him: "What does it matter to me or to Bitski\ +what the Emperor was pleased to say at the Council? Can all that make me\ +any happier or better?"\ +\ +And this simple reflection suddenly destroyed all the interest Prince\ +Andrew had felt in the impending reforms. He was going to dine that\ +evening at Speranski's, "with only a few friends," as the host had said\ +when inviting him. The prospect of that dinner in the intimate home\ +circle of the man he so admired had greatly interested Prince Andrew,\ +especially as he had not yet seen Speranski in his domestic\ +surroundings, but now he felt disinclined to go to it.\ +\ +At the appointed hour, however, he entered the modest house Speranski\ +owned in the Taurida Gardens. In the parqueted dining room this small\ +house, remarkable for its extreme cleanliness (suggesting that of a\ +monastery), Prince Andrew, who was rather late, found the friendly\ +gathering of Speranski's intimate acquaintances already assembled at\ +five o'clock. There were no ladies present except Speranski's little\ +daughter (long-faced like her father) and her governess. The other\ +guests were Gervais, Magnitski, and Stolypin. While still in the\ +anteroom Prince Andrew heard loud voices and a ringing staccato laugh--a\ +laugh such as one hears on the stage. Someone--it sounded like\ +Speranski--was distinctly ejaculating ha-ha-ha. Prince Andrew had never\ +before heard Speranski's famous laugh, and this ringing, high-pitched\ +laughter from a statesman made a strange impression on him.\ +\ +He entered the dining room. The whole company were standing between two\ +windows at a small table laid with hors-d'oeuvres. Speranski, wearing a\ +gray swallow-tail coat with a star on the breast, and evidently still\ +the same waistcoat and high white stock he had worn at the meeting of\ +the Council of State, stood at the table with a beaming countenance. His\ +guests surrounded him. Magnitski, addressing himself to Speranski, was\ +relating an anecdote, and Speranski was laughing in advance at what\ +Magnitski was going to say. When Prince Andrew entered the room\ +Magnitski's words were again crowned by laughter. Stolypin gave a deep\ +bass guffaw as he munched a piece of bread and cheese. Gervais laughed\ +softly with a hissing chuckle, and Speranski in a high-pitched staccato\ +manner.\ +\ +Still laughing, Speranski held out his soft white hand to Prince Andrew.\ +\ +"Very pleased to see you, Prince," he said. "One moment..." he went on,\ +turning to Magnitski and interrupting his story. "We have agreed that\ +this is a dinner for recreation, with not a word about business!" and\ +turning again to the narrator he began to laugh afresh.\ +\ +Prince Andrew looked at the laughing Speranski with astonishment,\ +regret, and disillusionment. It seemed to him that this was not\ +Speranski but someone else. Everything that had formerly appeared\ +mysterious and fascinating in Speranski suddenly became plain and\ +unattractive.\ +\ +At dinner the conversation did not cease for a moment and seemed to\ +consist of the contents of a book of funny anecdotes. Before Magnitski\ +had finished his story someone else was anxious to relate something\ +still funnier. Most of the anecdotes, if not relating to the state\ +service, related to people in the service. It seemed that in this\ +company the insignificance of those people was so definitely accepted\ +that the only possible attitude toward them was one of good humored\ +ridicule. Speranski related how at the Council that morning a deaf\ +dignitary, when asked his opinion, replied that he thought so too.\ +Gervais gave a long account of an official revision, remarkable for the\ +stupidity of everybody concerned. Stolypin, stuttering, broke into the\ +conversation and began excitedly talking of the abuses that existed\ +under the former order of things--threatening to give a serious turn to\ +the conversation. Magnitski starting quizzing Stolypin about his\ +vehemence. Gervais intervened with a joke, and the talk reverted to its\ +former lively tone.\ +\ +Evidently Speranski liked to rest after his labors and find amusement in\ +a circle of friends, and his guests, understanding his wish, tried to\ +enliven him and amuse themselves. But their gaiety seemed to Prince\ +Andrew mirthless and tiresome. Speranski's high-pitched voice struck him\ +unpleasantly, and the incessant laughter grated on him like a false\ +note. Prince Andrew did not laugh and feared that he would be a damper\ +on the spirits of the company, but no one took any notice of his being\ +out of harmony with the general mood. They all seemed very gay.\ +\ +He tried several times to join in the conversation, but his remarks were\ +tossed aside each time like a cork thrown out of the water, and he could\ +not jest with them.\ +\ +There was nothing wrong or unseemly in what they said, it was witty and\ +might have been funny, but it lacked just that something which is the\ +salt of mirth, and they were not even aware that such a thing existed.\ +\ +After dinner Speranski's daughter and her governess rose. He patted the\ +little girl with his white hand and kissed her. And that gesture, too,\ +seemed unnatural to Prince Andrew.\ +\ +The men remained at table over their port--English fashion. In the midst\ +of a conversation that was started about Napoleon's Spanish affairs,\ +which they all agreed in approving, Prince Andrew began to express a\ +contrary opinion. Speranski smiled and, with an evident wish to prevent\ +the conversation from taking an unpleasant course, told a story that had\ +no connection with the previous conversation. For a few moments all were\ +silent.\ +\ +Having sat some time at table, Speranski corked a bottle of wine and,\ +remarking, "Nowadays good wine rides in a carriage and pair," passed it\ +to the servant and got up. All rose and continuing to talk loudly went\ +into the drawing room. Two letters brought by a courier were handed to\ +Speranski and he took them to his study. As soon as he had left the room\ +the general merriment stopped and the guests began to converse sensibly\ +and quietly with one another.\ +\ +"Now for the recitation!" said Speranski on returning from his study. "A\ +wonderful talent!" he said to Prince Andrew, and Magnitski immediately\ +assumed a pose and began reciting some humorous verses in French which\ +he had composed about various well-known Petersburg people. He was\ +interrupted several times by applause. When the verses were finished\ +Prince Andrew went up to Speranski and took his leave.\ +\ +"Where are you off to so early?" asked Speranski.\ +\ +"I promised to go to a reception."\ +\ +They said no more. Prince Andrew looked closely into those mirrorlike,\ +impenetrable eyes, and felt that it had been ridiculous of him to have\ +expected anything from Speranski and from any of his own activities\ +connected with him, or ever to have attributed importance to what\ +Speranski was doing. That precise, mirthless laughter rang in Prince\ +Andrew's ears long after he had left the house.\ +\ +When he reached home Prince Andrew began thinking of his life in\ +Petersburg during those last four months as if it were something new. He\ +recalled his exertions and solicitations, and the history of his project\ +of army reform, which had been accepted for consideration and which they\ +were trying to pass over in silence simply because another, a very poor\ +one, had already been prepared and submitted to the Emperor. He thought\ +of the meetings of a committee of which Berg was a member. He remembered\ +how carefully and at what length everything relating to form and\ +procedure was discussed at those meetings, and how sedulously and\ +promptly all that related to the gist of the business was evaded. He\ +recalled his labors on the Legal Code, and how painstakingly he had\ +translated the articles of the Roman and French codes into Russian, and\ +he felt ashamed of himself. Then he vividly pictured to himself\ +Bogucharovo, his occupations in the country, his journey to Ryazan; he\ +remembered the peasants and Dron the village elder, and mentally\ +applying to them the Personal Rights he had divided into paragraphs, he\ +felt astonished that he could have spent so much time on such useless\ +work.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XIX\ +\ +Next day Prince Andrew called at a few houses he had not visited before,\ +and among them at the Rostovs' with whom he had renewed acquaintance at\ +the ball. Apart from considerations of politeness which demanded the\ +call, he wanted to see that original, eager girl who had left such a\ +pleasant impression on his mind, in her own home.\ +\ +Natasha was one of the first to meet him. She was wearing a dark-blue\ +house dress in which Prince Andrew thought her even prettier than in her\ +ball dress. She and all the Rostov family welcomed him as an old friend,\ +simply and cordially. The whole family, whom he had formerly judged\ +severely, now seemed to him to consist of excellent, simple, and kindly\ +people. The old count's hospitality and good nature, which struck one\ +especially in Petersburg as a pleasant surprise, were such that Prince\ +Andrew could not refuse to stay to dinner. "Yes," he thought, "they are\ +capital people, who of course have not the slightest idea what a\ +treasure they possess in Natasha; but they are kindly folk and form the\ +best possible setting for this strikingly poetic, charming girl,\ +overflowing with life!"\ +\ +In Natasha Prince Andrew was conscious of a strange world completely\ +alien to him and brimful of joys unknown to him, a different world, that\ +in the Otradnoe avenue and at the window that moonlight night had\ +already begun to disconcert him. Now this world disconcerted him no\ +longer and was no longer alien to him, but he himself having entered it\ +found in it a new enjoyment.\ +\ +After dinner Natasha, at Prince Andrew's request, went to the clavichord\ +and began singing. Prince Andrew stood by a window talking to the ladies\ +and listened to her. In the midst of a phrase he ceased speaking and\ +suddenly felt tears choking him, a thing he had thought impossible for\ +him. He looked at Natasha as she sang, and something new and joyful\ +stirred in his soul. He felt happy and at the same time sad. He had\ +absolutely nothing to weep about yet he was ready to weep. What about?\ +His former love? The little princess? His disillusionments?... His hopes\ +for the future?... Yes and no. The chief reason was a sudden, vivid\ +sense of the terrible contrast between something infinitely great and\ +illimitable within him and that limited and material something that he,\ +and even she, was. This contrast weighed on and yet cheered him while\ +she sang.\ +\ +As soon as Natasha had finished she went up to him and asked how he\ +liked her voice. She asked this and then became confused, feeling that\ +she ought not to have asked it. He smiled, looking at her, and said he\ +liked her singing as he liked everything she did.\ +\ +Prince Andrew left the Rostovs' late in the evening. He went to bed from\ +habit, but soon realized that he could not sleep. Having lit his candle\ +he sat up in bed, then got up, then lay down again not at all troubled\ +by his sleeplessness: his soul was as fresh and joyful as if he had\ +stepped out of a stuffy room into God's own fresh air. It did not enter\ +his head that he was in love with Natasha; he was not thinking about\ +her, but only picturing her to himself, and in consequence all life\ +appeared in a new light. "Why do I strive, why do I toil in this narrow,\ +confined frame, when life, all life with all its joys, is open to me?"\ +said he to himself. And for the first time for a very long while he\ +began making happy plans for the future. He decided that he must attend\ +to his son's education by finding a tutor and putting the boy in his\ +charge, then he ought to retire from the service and go abroad, and see\ +England, Switzerland and Italy. "I must use my freedom while I feel so\ +much strength and youth in me," he said to himself. "Pierre was right\ +when he said one must believe in the possibility of happiness in order\ +to be happy, and now I do believe in it. Let the dead bury their dead,\ +but while one has life one must live and be happy!" thought he.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XX\ +\ +One morning Colonel Berg, whom Pierre knew as he knew everybody in\ +Moscow and Petersburg, came to see him. Berg arrived in an immaculate\ +brand-new uniform, with his hair pomaded and brushed forward over his\ +temples as the Emperor Alexander wore his hair.\ +\ +"I have just been to see the countess, your wife. Unfortunately she\ +could not grant my request, but I hope, Count, I shall be more fortunate\ +with you," he said with a smile.\ +\ +"What is it you wish, Colonel? I am at your service."\ +\ +"I have now quite settled in my new rooms, Count" (Berg said this with\ +perfect conviction that this information could not but be agreeable),\ +"and so I wish to arrange just a small party for my own and my wife's\ +friends." (He smiled still more pleasantly.) "I wished to ask the\ +countess and you to do me the honor of coming to tea and to supper."\ +\ +Only Countess Helene, considering the society of such people as the\ +Bergs beneath her, could be cruel enough to refuse such an invitation.\ +Berg explained so clearly why he wanted to collect at his house a small\ +but select company, and why this would give him pleasure, and why though\ +he grudged spending money on cards or anything harmful, he was prepared\ +to run into some expense for the sake of good society--that Pierre could\ +not refuse, and promised to come.\ +\ +"But don't be late, Count, if I may venture to ask; about ten minutes to\ +eight, please. We shall make up a rubber. Our general is coming. He is\ +very good to me. We shall have supper, Count. So you will do me the\ +favor."\ +\ +Contrary to his habit of being late, Pierre on that day arrived at the\ +Bergs' house, not at ten but at fifteen minutes to eight.\ +\ +Having prepared everything necessary for the party, the Bergs were ready\ +for their guests' arrival.\ +\ +In their new, clean, and light study with its small busts and pictures\ +and new furniture sat Berg and his wife. Berg, closely buttoned up in\ +his new uniform, sat beside his wife explaining to her that one always\ +could and should be acquainted with people above one, because only then\ +does one get satisfaction from acquaintances.\ +\ +"You can get to know something, you can ask for something. See how I\ +managed from my first promotion." (Berg measured his life not by years\ +but by promotions.) "My comrades are still nobodies, while I am only\ +waiting for a vacancy to command a regiment, and have the happiness to\ +be your husband." (He rose and kissed Vera's hand, and on the way to her\ +straightened out a turned-up corner of the carpet.) "And how have I\ +obtained all this? Chiefly by knowing how to choose my aquaintances. It\ +goes without saying that one must be conscientious and methodical."\ +\ +Berg smiled with a sense of his superiority over a weak woman, and\ +paused, reflecting that this dear wife of his was after all but a weak\ +woman who could not understand all that constitutes a man's dignity,\ +what it was ein Mann zu sein. * Vera at the same time smiling with a\ +sense of superiority over her good, conscientious husband, who all the\ +same understood life wrongly, as according to Vera all men did. Berg,\ +judging by his wife, thought all women weak and foolish. Vera, judging\ +only by her husband and generalizing from that observation, supposed\ +that all men, though they understand nothing and are conceited and\ +selfish, ascribe common sense to themselves alone.\ +\ +\ +* To be a man.\ +\ +Berg rose and embraced his wife carefully, so as not to crush her lace\ +fichu for which he had paid a good price, kissing her straight on the\ +lips.\ +\ +"The only thing is, we mustn't have children too soon," he continued,\ +following an unconscious sequence of ideas.\ +\ +"Yes," answered Vera, "I don't at all want that. We must live for\ +society."\ +\ +"Princess Yusupova wore one exactly like this," said Berg, pointing to\ +the fichu with a happy and kindly smile.\ +\ +Just then Count Bezukhov was announced. Husband and wife glanced at one\ +another, both smiling with self-satisfaction, and each mentally claiming\ +the honor of this visit.\ +\ +"This is what comes of knowing how to make acquaintances," thought Berg.\ +"This is what comes of knowing how to conduct oneself."\ +\ +"But please don't interrupt me when I am entertaining the guests," said\ +Vera, "because I know what interests each of them and what to say to\ +different people."\ +\ +Berg smiled again.\ +\ +"It can't be helped: men must sometimes have masculine conversation,"\ +said he.\ +\ +They received Pierre in their small, new drawing-room, where it was\ +impossible to sit down anywhere without disturbing its symmetry,\ +neatness, and order; so it was quite comprehensible and not strange that\ +Berg, having generously offered to disturb the symmetry of an armchair\ +or of the sofa for his dear guest, but being apparently painfully\ +undecided on the matter himself, eventually left the visitor to settle\ +the question of selection. Pierre disturbed the symmetry by moving a\ +chair for himself, and Berg and Vera immediately began their evening\ +party, interrupting each other in their efforts to entertain their\ +guest.\ +\ +Vera, having decided in her own mind that Pierre ought to be entertained\ +with conversation about the French embassy, at once began accordingly.\ +Berg, having decided that masculine conversation was required,\ +interrupted his wife's remarks and touched on the question of the war\ +with Austria, and unconsciously jumped from the general subject to\ +personal considerations as to the proposals made him to take part in the\ +Austrian campaign and the reasons why he had declined them. Though the\ +conversation was very incoherent and Vera was angry at the intrusion of\ +the masculine element, both husband and wife felt with satisfaction\ +that, even if only one guest was present, their evening had begun very\ +well and was as like as two peas to every other evening party with its\ +talk, tea, and lighted candles.\ +\ +Before long Boris, Berg's old comrade, arrived. There was a shade of\ +condescension and patronage in his treatment of Berg and Vera. After\ +Boris came a lady with the colonel, then the general himself, then the\ +Rostovs, and the party became unquestionably exactly like all other\ +evening parties. Berg and Vera could not repress their smiles of\ +satisfaction at the sight of all this movement in their drawing room, at\ +the sound of the disconnected talk, the rustling of dresses, and the\ +bowing and scraping. Everything was just as everybody always has it,\ +especially so the general, who admired the apartment, patted Berg on the\ +shoulder, and with parental authority superintended the setting out of\ +the table for boston. The general sat down by Count Ilya Rostov, who was\ +next to himself the most important guest. The old people sat with the\ +old, the young with the young, and the hostess at the tea table, on\ +which stood exactly the same kind of cakes in a silver cake basket as\ +the Panins had at their party. Everything was just as it was everywhere\ +else.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XXI\ +\ +Pierre, as one of the principal guests, had to sit down to boston with\ +Count Rostov, the general, and the colonel. At the card table he\ +happened to be directly facing Natasha, and was struck by a curious\ +change that had come over her since the ball. She was silent, and not\ +only less pretty than at the ball, but only redeemed from plainness by\ +her look of gentle indifference to everything around.\ +\ +"What's the matter with her?" thought Pierre, glancing at her. She was\ +sitting by her sister at the tea table, and reluctantly, without looking\ +at him, made some reply to Boris who sat down beside her. After playing\ +out a whole suit and to his partner's delight taking five tricks,\ +Pierre, hearing greetings and the steps of someone who had entered the\ +room while he was picking up his tricks, glanced again at Natasha.\ +\ +"What has happened to her?" he asked himself with still greater\ +surprise.\ +\ +Prince Andrew was standing before her, saying something to her with a\ +look of tender solicitude. She, having raised her head, was looking up\ +at him, flushed and evidently trying to master her rapid breathing. And\ +the bright glow of some inner fire that had been suppressed was again\ +alight in her. She was completely transformed and from a plain girl had\ +again become what she had been at the ball.\ +\ +Prince Andrew went up to Pierre, and the latter noticed a new and\ +youthful expression in his friend's face.\ +\ +Pierre changed places several times during the game, sitting now with\ +his back to Natasha and now facing her, but during the whole of the six\ +rubbers he watched her and his friend.\ +\ +"Something very important is happening between them," thought Pierre,\ +and a feeling that was both joyful and painful agitated him and made him\ +neglect the game.\ +\ +After six rubbers the general got up, saying that it was no use playing\ +like that, and Pierre was released. Natasha on one side was talking with\ +Sonya and Boris, and Vera with a subtle smile was saying something to\ +Prince Andrew. Pierre went up to his friend and, asking whether they\ +were talking secrets, sat down beside them. Vera, having noticed Prince\ +Andrew's attentions to Natasha, decided that at a party, a real evening\ +party, subtle allusions to the tender passion were absolutely necessary\ +and, seizing a moment when Prince Andrew was alone, began a conversation\ +with him about feelings in general and about her sister. With so\ +intellectual a guest as she considered Prince Andrew to be, she felt\ +that she had to employ her diplomatic tact.\ +\ +When Pierre went up to them he noticed that Vera was being carried away\ +by her self-satisfied talk, but that Prince Andrew seemed embarrassed, a\ +thing that rarely happened with him.\ +\ +"What do you think?" Vera was saying with an arch smile. "You are so\ +discerning, Prince, and understand people's characters so well at a\ +glance. What do you think of Natalie? Could she be constant in her\ +attachments? Could she, like other women" (Vera meant herself), "love a\ +man once for all and remain true to him forever? That is what I consider\ +true love. What do you think, Prince?"\ +\ +"I know your sister too little," replied Prince Andrew, with a sarcastic\ +smile under which he wished to hide his embarrassment, "to be able to\ +solve so delicate a question, and then I have noticed that the less\ +attractive a woman is the more constant she is likely to be," he added,\ +and looked up at Pierre who was just approaching them.\ +\ +"Yes, that is true, Prince. In our days," continued Vera--mentioning\ +"our days" as people of limited intelligence are fond of doing,\ +imagining that they have discovered and appraised the peculiarities of\ +"our days" and that human characteristics change with the times--"in our\ +days a girl has so much freedom that the pleasure of being courted often\ +stifles real feeling in her. And it must be confessed that Natalie is\ +very susceptible." This return to the subject of Natalie caused Prince\ +Andrew to knit his brows with discomfort: he was about to rise, but Vera\ +continued with a still more subtle smile:\ +\ +"I think no one has been more courted than she," she went on, "but till\ +quite lately she never cared seriously for anyone. Now you know, Count,"\ +she said to Pierre, "even our dear cousin Boris, who, between ourselves,\ +was very far gone in the land of tenderness..." (alluding to a map of\ +love much in vogue at that time).\ +\ +Prince Andrew frowned and remained silent.\ +\ +"You are friendly with Boris, aren't you?" asked Vera.\ +\ +"Yes, I know him..."\ +\ +"I expect he has told you of his childish love for Natasha?"\ +\ +"Oh, there was childish love?" suddenly asked Prince Andrew, blushing\ +unexpectedly.\ +\ +"Yes, you know between cousins intimacy often leads to love. Le\ +cousinage est un dangereux voisinage. * Don't you think so?"\ +\ +\ +* "Cousinhood is a dangerous neighborhood."\ +\ +"Oh, undoubtedly!" said Prince Andrew, and with sudden and unnatural\ +liveliness he began chaffing Pierre about the need to be very careful\ +with his fifty-year-old Moscow cousins, and in the midst of these\ +jesting remarks he rose, taking Pierre by the arm, and drew him aside.\ +\ +"Well?" asked Pierre, seeing his friend's strange animation with\ +surprise, and noticing the glance he turned on Natasha as he rose.\ +\ +"I must... I must have a talk with you," said Prince Andrew. "You know\ +that pair of women's gloves?" (He referred to the masonic gloves given\ +to a newly initiated Brother to present to the woman he loved.) "I...\ +but no, I will talk to you later on," and with a strange light in his\ +eyes and restlessness in his movements, Prince Andrew approached Natasha\ +and sat down beside her. Pierre saw how Prince Andrew asked her\ +something and how she flushed as she replied.\ +\ +But at that moment Berg came to Pierre and began insisting that he\ +should take part in an argument between the general and the colonel on\ +the affairs in Spain.\ +\ +Berg was satisfied and happy. The smile of pleasure never left his face.\ +The party was very successful and quite like other parties he had seen.\ +Everything was similar: the ladies' subtle talk, the cards, the general\ +raising his voice at the card table, and the samovar and the tea cakes;\ +only one thing was lacking that he had always seen at the evening\ +parties he wished to imitate. They had not yet had a loud conversation\ +among the men and a dispute about something important and clever. Now\ +the general had begun such a discussion and so Berg drew Pierre to it.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XXII\ +\ +Next day, having been invited by the count, Prince Andrew dined with the\ +Rostovs and spent the rest of the day there.\ +\ +Everyone in the house realized for whose sake Prince Andrew came, and\ +without concealing it he tried to be with Natasha all day. Not only in\ +the soul of the frightened yet happy and enraptured Natasha, but in the\ +whole house, there was a feeling of awe at something important that was\ +bound to happen. The countess looked with sad and sternly serious eyes\ +at Prince Andrew when he talked to Natasha and timidly started some\ +artificial conversation about trifles as soon as he looked her way.\ +Sonya was afraid to leave Natasha and afraid of being in the way when\ +she was with them. Natasha grew pale, in a panic of expectation, when\ +she remained alone with him for a moment. Prince Andrew surprised her by\ +his timidity. She felt that he wanted to say something to her but could\ +not bring himself to do so.\ +\ +In the evening, when Prince Andrew had left, the countess went up to\ +Natasha and whispered: "Well, what?"\ +\ +"Mamma! For heaven's sake don't ask me anything now! One can't talk\ +about that," said Natasha.\ +\ +But all the same that night Natasha, now agitated and now frightened,\ +lay a long time in her mother's bed gazing straight before her. She told\ +her how he had complimented her, how he told her he was going abroad,\ +asked her where they were going to spend the summer, and then how he had\ +asked her about Boris.\ +\ +"But such a... such a... never happened to me before!" she said. "Only I\ +feel afraid in his presence. I am always afraid when I'm with him. What\ +does that mean? Does it mean that it's the real thing? Yes? Mamma, are\ +you asleep?"\ +\ +"No, my love; I am frightened myself," answered her mother. "Now go!"\ +\ +"All the same I shan't sleep. What silliness, to sleep! Mummy! Mummy!\ +such a thing never happened to me before," she said, surprised and\ +alarmed at the feeling she was aware of in herself. "And could we ever\ +have thought!..."\ +\ +It seemed to Natasha that even at the time she first saw Prince Andrew\ +at Otradnoe she had fallen in love with him. It was as if she feared\ +this strange, unexpected happiness of meeting again the very man she had\ +then chosen (she was firmly convinced she had done so) and of finding\ +him, as it seemed, not indifferent to her.\ +\ +"And it had to happen that he should come specially to Petersburg while\ +we are here. And it had to happen that we should meet at that ball. It\ +is fate. Clearly it is fate that everything led up to this! Already\ +then, directly I saw him I felt something peculiar."\ +\ +"What else did he say to you? What are those verses? Read them..." said\ +her mother, thoughtfully, referring to some verses Prince Andrew had\ +written in Natasha's album.\ +\ +"Mamma, one need not be ashamed of his being a widower?"\ +\ +"Don't, Natasha! Pray to God. 'Marriages are made in heaven,'" said her\ +mother.\ +\ +"Darling Mummy, how I love you! How happy I am!" cried Natasha, shedding\ +tears of joy and excitement and embracing her mother.\ +\ +At that very time Prince Andrew was sitting with Pierre and telling him\ +of his love for Natasha and his firm resolve to make her his wife.\ +\ +That day Countess Helene had a reception at her house. The French\ +ambassador was there, and a foreign prince of the blood who had of late\ +become a frequent visitor of hers, and many brilliant ladies and\ +gentlemen. Pierre, who had come downstairs, walked through the rooms and\ +struck everyone by his preoccupied, absent-minded, and morose air.\ +\ +Since the ball he had felt the approach of a fit of nervous depression\ +and had made desperate efforts to combat it. Since the intimacy of his\ +wife with the royal prince, Pierre had unexpectedly been made a\ +gentleman of the bedchamber, and from that time he had begun to feel\ +oppressed and ashamed in court society, and dark thoughts of the vanity\ +of all things human came to him oftener than before. At the same time\ +the feeling he had noticed between his protegee Natasha and Prince\ +Andrew accentuated his gloom by the contrast between his own position\ +and his friend's. He tried equally to avoid thinking about his wife, and\ +about Natasha and Prince Andrew; and again everything seemed to him\ +insignificant in comparison with eternity; again the question: for what?\ +presented itself; and he forced himself to work day and night at masonic\ +labors, hoping to drive away the evil spirit that threatened him. Toward\ +midnight, after he had left the countess' apartments, he was sitting\ +upstairs in a shabby dressing gown, copying out the original transaction\ +of the Scottish lodge of Freemasons at a table in his low room cloudy\ +with tobacco smoke, when someone came in. It was Prince Andrew.\ +\ +"Ah, it's you!" said Pierre with a preoccupied, dissatisfied air. "And\ +I, you see, am hard at it." He pointed to his manuscript book with that\ +air of escaping from the ills of life with which unhappy people look at\ +their work.\ +\ +Prince Andrew, with a beaming, ecstatic expression of renewed life on\ +his face, paused in front of Pierre and, not noticing his sad look,\ +smiled at him with the egotism of joy.\ +\ +"Well, dear heart," said he, "I wanted to tell you about it yesterday\ +and I have come to do so today. I never experienced anything like it\ +before. I am in love, my friend!"\ +\ +Suddenly Pierre heaved a deep sigh and dumped his heavy person down on\ +the sofa beside Prince Andrew.\ +\ +"With Natasha Rostova, yes?" said he.\ +\ +"Yes, yes! Who else should it be? I should never have believed it, but\ +the feeling is stronger than I. Yesterday I tormented myself and\ +suffered, but I would not exchange even that torment for anything in the\ +world, I have not lived till now. At last I live, but I can't live\ +without her! But can she love me?... I am too old for her.... Why don't\ +you speak?"\ +\ +"I? I? What did I tell you?" said Pierre suddenly, rising and beginning\ +to pace up and down the room. "I always thought it.... That girl is such\ +a treasure... she is a rare girl.... My dear friend, I entreat you,\ +don't philosophize, don't doubt, marry, marry, marry.... And I am sure\ +there will not be a happier man than you."\ +\ +"But what of her?"\ +\ +"She loves you."\ +\ +"Don't talk rubbish..." said Prince Andrew, smiling and looking into\ +Pierre's eyes.\ +\ +"She does, I know," Pierre cried fiercely.\ +\ +"But do listen," returned Prince Andrew, holding him by the arm. "Do you\ +know the condition I am in? I must talk about it to someone."\ +\ +"Well, go on, go on. I am very glad," said Pierre, and his face really\ +changed, his brow became smooth, and he listened gladly to Prince\ +Andrew. Prince Andrew seemed, and really was, quite a different, quite a\ +new man. Where was his spleen, his contempt for life, his\ +disillusionment? Pierre was the only person to whom he made up his mind\ +to speak openly; and to him he told all that was in his soul. Now he\ +boldly and lightly made plans for an extended future, said he could not\ +sacrifice his own happiness to his father's caprice, and spoke of how he\ +would either make his father consent to this marriage and love her, or\ +would do without his consent; then he marveled at the feeling that had\ +mastered him as at something strange, apart from and independent of\ +himself.\ +\ +"I should not have believed anyone who told me that I was capable of\ +such love," said Prince Andrew. "It is not at all the same feeling that\ +I knew in the past. The whole world is now for me divided into two\ +halves: one half is she, and there all is joy, hope, light: the other\ +half is everything where she is not, and there is all gloom and\ +darkness...."\ +\ +"Darkness and gloom," reiterated Pierre: "yes, yes, I understand that."\ +\ +"I cannot help loving the light, it is not my fault. And I am very\ +happy! You understand me? I know you are glad for my sake."\ +\ +"Yes, yes," Pierre assented, looking at his friend with a touched and\ +sad expression in his eyes. The brighter Prince Andrew's lot appeared to\ +him, the gloomier seemed his own.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XXIII\ +\ +Prince Andrew needed his father's consent to his marriage, and to obtain\ +this he started for the country next day.\ +\ +His father received his son's communication with external composure, but\ +inward wrath. He could not comprehend how anyone could wish to alter his\ +life or introduce anything new into it, when his own life was already\ +ending. "If only they would let me end my days as I want to," thought\ +the old man, "then they might do as they please." With his son, however,\ +he employed the diplomacy he reserved for important occasions and,\ +adopting a quiet tone, discussed the whole matter.\ +\ +In the first place the marriage was not a brilliant one as regards\ +birth, wealth, or rank. Secondly, Prince Andrew was no longer as young\ +as he had been and his health was poor (the old man laid special stress\ +on this), while she was very young. Thirdly, he had a son whom it would\ +be a pity to entrust to a chit of a girl. "Fourthly and finally," the\ +father said, looking ironically at his son, "I beg you to put it off for\ +a year: go abroad, take a cure, look out as you wanted to for a German\ +tutor for Prince Nicholas. Then if your love or passion or obstinacy--as\ +you please--is still as great, marry! And that's my last word on it.\ +Mind, the last..." concluded the prince, in a tone which showed that\ +nothing would make him alter his decision.\ +\ +Prince Andrew saw clearly that the old man hoped that his feelings, or\ +his fiancee's, would not stand a year's test, or that he (the old prince\ +himself) would die before then, and he decided to conform to his\ +father's wish--to propose, and postpone the wedding for a year.\ +\ +Three weeks after the last evening he had spent with the Rostovs, Prince\ +Andrew returned to Petersburg.\ +\ +Next day after her talk with her mother Natasha expected Bolkonski all\ +day, but he did not come. On the second and third day it was the same.\ +Pierre did not come either and Natasha, not knowing that Prince Andrew\ +had gone to see his father, could not explain his absence to herself.\ +\ +Three weeks passed in this way. Natasha had no desire to go out anywhere\ +and wandered from room to room like a shadow, idle and listless; she\ +wept secretly at night and did not go to her mother in the evenings. She\ +blushed continually and was irritable. It seemed to her that everybody\ +knew about her disappointment and was laughing at her and pitying her.\ +Strong as was her inward grief, this wound to her vanity intensified her\ +misery.\ +\ +Once she came to her mother, tried to say something, and suddenly began\ +to cry. Her tears were those of an offended child who does not know why\ +it is being punished.\ +\ +The countess began to soothe Natasha, who after first listening to her\ +mother's words, suddenly interrupted her:\ +\ +"Leave off, Mamma! I don't think, and don't want to think about it! He\ +just came and then left off, left off..."\ +\ +Her voice trembled, and she again nearly cried, but recovered and went\ +on quietly:\ +\ +"And I don't at all want to get married. And I am afraid of him; I have\ +now become quite calm, quite calm."\ +\ +The day after this conversation Natasha put on the old dress which she\ +knew had the peculiar property of conducing to cheerfulness in the\ +mornings, and that day she returned to the old way of life which she had\ +abandoned since the ball. Having finished her morning tea she went to\ +the ballroom, which she particularly liked for its loud resonance, and\ +began singing her solfeggio. When she had finished her first exercise\ +she stood still in the middle of the room and sang a musical phrase that\ +particularly pleased her. She listened joyfully (as though she had not\ +expected it) to the charm of the notes reverberating, filling the whole\ +empty ballroom, and slowly dying away; and all at once she felt\ +cheerful. "What's the good of making so much of it? Things are nice as\ +it is," she said to herself, and she began walking up and down the room,\ +not stepping simply on the resounding parquet but treading with each\ +step from the heel to the toe (she had on a new and favorite pair of\ +shoes) and listening to the regular tap of the heel and creak of the toe\ +as gladly as she had to the sounds of her own voice. Passing a mirror\ +she glanced into it. "There, that's me!" the expression of her face\ +seemed to say as she caught sight of herself. "Well, and very nice too!\ +I need nobody."\ +\ +A footman wanted to come in to clear away something in the room but she\ +would not let him, and having closed the door behind him continued her\ +walk. That morning she had returned to her favorite mood--love of, and\ +delight in, herself. "How charming that Natasha is!" she said again,\ +speaking as some third, collective, male person. "Pretty, a good voice,\ +young, and in nobody's way if only they leave her in peace." But however\ +much they left her in peace she could not now be at peace, and\ +immediately felt this.\ +\ +In the hall the porch door opened, and someone asked, "At home?" and\ +then footsteps were heard. Natasha was looking at the mirror, but did\ +not see herself. She listened to the sounds in the hall. When she saw\ +herself, her face was pale. It was he. She knew this for certain, though\ +she hardly heard his voice through the closed doors.\ +\ +Pale and agitated, Natasha ran into the drawing room.\ +\ +"Mamma! Bolkonski has come!" she said. "Mamma, it is awful, it is\ +unbearable! I don't want... to be tormented? What am I to do?..."\ +\ +Before the countess could answer, Prince Andrew entered the room with an\ +agitated and serious face. As soon as he saw Natasha his face\ +brightened. He kissed the countess' hand and Natasha's, and sat down\ +beside the sofa.\ +\ +"It is long since we had the pleasure..." began the countess, but Prince\ +Andrew interrupted her by answering her intended question, obviously in\ +haste to say what he had to.\ +\ +"I have not been to see you all this time because I have been at my\ +father's. I had to talk over a very important matter with him. I only\ +got back last night," he said glancing at Natasha; "I want to have a\ +talk with you, Countess," he added after a moment's pause.\ +\ +The countess lowered her eyes, sighing deeply.\ +\ +"I am at your disposal," she murmured.\ +\ +Natasha knew that she ought to go away, but was unable to do so:\ +something gripped her throat, and regardless of manners she stared\ +straight at Prince Andrew with wide-open eyes.\ +\ +"At once? This instant!... No, it can't be!" she thought.\ +\ +Again he glanced at her, and that glance convinced her that she was not\ +mistaken. Yes, at once, that very instant, her fate would be decided.\ +\ +"Go, Natasha! I will call you," said the countess in a whisper.\ +\ +Natasha glanced with frightened imploring eyes at Prince Andrew and at\ +her mother and went out.\ +\ +"I have come, Countess, to ask for your daughter's hand," said Prince\ +Andrew.\ +\ +The countess' face flushed hotly, but she said nothing.\ +\ +"Your offer..." she began at last sedately. He remained silent, looking\ +into her eyes. "Your offer..." (she grew confused) "is agreeable to us,\ +and I accept your offer. I am glad. And my husband... I hope... but it\ +will depend on her...."\ +\ +"I will speak to her when I have your consent.... Do you give it to me?"\ +said Prince Andrew.\ +\ +"Yes," replied the countess. She held out her hand to him, and with a\ +mixed feeling of estrangement and tenderness pressed her lips to his\ +forehead as he stooped to kiss her hand. She wished to love him as a\ +son, but felt that to her he was a stranger and a terrifying man. "I am\ +sure my husband will consent," said the countess, "but your father..."\ +\ +"My father, to whom I have told my plans, has made it an express\ +condition of his consent that the wedding is not to take place for a\ +year. And I wished to tell you of that," said Prince Andrew.\ +\ +"It is true that Natasha is still young, but--so long as that?..."\ +\ +"It is unavoidable," said Prince Andrew with a sigh.\ +\ +"I will send her to you," said the countess, and left the room.\ +\ +"Lord have mercy upon us!" she repeated while seeking her daughter.\ +\ +Sonya said that Natasha was in her bedroom. Natasha was sitting on the\ +bed, pale and dry eyed, and was gazing at the icons and whispering\ +something as she rapidly crossed herself. Seeing her mother she jumped\ +up and flew to her.\ +\ +"Well, Mamma?... Well?..."\ +\ +"Go, go to him. He is asking for your hand," said the countess, coldly\ +it seemed to Natasha. "Go... go," said the mother, sadly and\ +reproachfully, with a deep sigh, as her daughter ran away.\ +\ +Natasha never remembered how she entered the drawing room. When she came\ +in and saw him she paused. "Is it possible that this stranger has now\ +become everything to me?" she asked herself, and immediately answered,\ +"Yes, everything! He alone is now dearer to me than everything in the\ +world." Prince Andrew came up to her with downcast eyes.\ +\ +"I have loved you from the very first moment I saw you. May I hope?"\ +\ +He looked at her and was struck by the serious impassioned expression of\ +her face. Her face said: "Why ask? Why doubt what you cannot but know?\ +Why speak, when words cannot express what one feels?"\ +\ +She drew near to him and stopped. He took her hand and kissed it.\ +\ +"Do you love me?"\ +\ +"Yes, yes!" Natasha murmured as if in vexation. Then she sighed loudly\ +and, catching her breath more and more quickly, began to sob.\ +\ +"What is it? What's the matter?"\ +\ +"Oh, I am so happy!" she replied, smiled through her tears, bent over\ +closer to him, paused for an instant as if asking herself whether she\ +might, and then kissed him.\ +\ +Prince Andrew held her hands, looked into her eyes, and did not find in\ +his heart his former love for her. Something in him had suddenly\ +changed; there was no longer the former poetic and mystic charm of\ +desire, but there was pity for her feminine and childish weakness, fear\ +at her devotion and trustfulness, and an oppressive yet joyful sense of\ +the duty that now bound him to her forever. The present feeling, though\ +not so bright and poetic as the former, was stronger and more serious.\ +\ +"Did your mother tell you that it cannot be for a year?" asked Prince\ +Andrew, still looking into her eyes.\ +\ +"Is it possible that I--the 'chit of a girl,' as everybody called me,"\ +thought Natasha--"is it possible that I am now to be the wife and the\ +equal of this strange, dear, clever man whom even my father looks up to?\ +Can it be true? Can it be true that there can be no more playing with\ +life, that now I am grown up, that on me now lies a responsibility for\ +my every word and deed? Yes, but what did he ask me?"\ +\ +"No," she replied, but she had not understood his question.\ +\ +"Forgive me!" he said. "But you are so young, and I have already been\ +through so much in life. I am afraid for you, you do not yet know\ +yourself."\ +\ +Natasha listened with concentrated attention, trying but failing to take\ +in the meaning of his words.\ +\ +"Hard as this year which delays my happiness will be," continued Prince\ +Andrew, "it will give you time to be sure of yourself. I ask you to make\ +me happy in a year, but you are free: our engagement shall remain a\ +secret, and should you find that you do not love me, or should you come\ +to love..." said Prince Andrew with an unnatural smile.\ +\ +"Why do you say that?" Natasha interrupted him. "You know that from the\ +very day you first came to Otradnoe I have loved you," she cried, quite\ +convinced that she spoke the truth.\ +\ +"In a year you will learn to know yourself...."\ +\ +"A whole year!" Natasha repeated suddenly, only now realizing that the\ +marriage was to be postponed for a year. "But why a year? Why a\ +year?..."\ +\ +Prince Andrew began to explain to her the reasons for this delay.\ +Natasha did not hear him.\ +\ +"And can't it be helped?" she asked. Prince Andrew did not reply, but\ +his face expressed the impossibility of altering that decision.\ +\ +"It's awful! Oh, it's awful! awful!" Natasha suddenly cried, and again\ +burst into sobs. "I shall die, waiting a year: it's impossible, it's\ +awful!" She looked into her lover's face and saw in it a look of\ +commiseration and perplexity.\ +\ +"No, no! I'll do anything!" she said, suddenly checking her tears. "I am\ +so happy."\ +\ +The father and mother came into the room and gave the betrothed couple\ +their blessing.\ +\ +From that day Prince Andrew began to frequent the Rostovs' as Natasha's\ +affianced lover.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XXIV\ +\ +No betrothal ceremony took place and Natasha's engagement to Bolkonski\ +was not announced; Prince Andrew insisted on that. He said that as he\ +was responsible for the delay he ought to bear the whole burden of it;\ +that he had given his word and bound himself forever, but that he did\ +not wish to bind Natasha and gave her perfect freedom. If after six\ +months she felt that she did not love him she would have full right to\ +reject him. Naturally neither Natasha nor her parents wished to hear of\ +this, but Prince Andrew was firm. He came every day to the Rostovs', but\ +did not behave to Natasha as an affianced lover: he did not use the\ +familiar thou, but said you to her, and kissed only her hand. After\ +their engagement, quite different, intimate, and natural relations\ +sprang up between them. It was as if they had not known each other till\ +now. Both liked to recall how they had regarded each other when as yet\ +they were nothing to one another; they felt themselves now quite\ +different beings: then they were artificial, now natural and sincere. At\ +first the family felt some constraint in intercourse with Prince Andrew;\ +he seemed a man from another world, and for a long time Natasha trained\ +the family to get used to him, proudly assuring them all that he only\ +appeared to be different, but was really just like all of them, and that\ +she was not afraid of him and no one else ought to be. After a few days\ +they grew accustomed to him, and without restraint in his presence\ +pursued their usual way of life, in which he took his part. He could\ +talk about rural economy with the count, fashions with the countess and\ +Natasha, and about albums and fancywork with Sonya. Sometimes the\ +household both among themselves and in his presence expressed their\ +wonder at how it had all happened, and at the evident omens there had\ +been of it: Prince Andrew's coming to Otradnoe and their coming to\ +Petersburg, and the likeness between Natasha and Prince Andrew which her\ +nurse had noticed on his first visit, and Andrew's encounter with\ +Nicholas in 1805, and many other incidents betokening that it had to be.\ +\ +In the house that poetic dullness and quiet reigned which always\ +accompanies the presence of a betrothed couple. Often when all sitting\ +together everyone kept silent. Sometimes the others would get up and go\ +away and the couple, left alone, still remained silent. They rarely\ +spoke of their future life. Prince Andrew was afraid and ashamed to\ +speak of it. Natasha shared this as she did all his feelings, which she\ +constantly divined. Once she began questioning him about his son. Prince\ +Andrew blushed, as he often did now--Natasha particularly liked it in\ +him--and said that his son would not live with them.\ +\ +"Why not?" asked Natasha in a frightened tone.\ +\ +"I cannot take him away from his grandfather, and besides..."\ +\ +"How I should have loved him!" said Natasha, immediately guessing his\ +thought; "but I know you wish to avoid any pretext for finding fault\ +with us."\ +\ +Sometimes the old count would come up, kiss Prince Andrew, and ask his\ +advice about Petya's education or Nicholas' service. The old countess\ +sighed as she looked at them; Sonya was always getting frightened lest\ +she should be in the way and tried to find excuses for leaving them\ +alone, even when they did not wish it. When Prince Andrew spoke (he\ +could tell a story very well), Natasha listened to him with pride; when\ +she spoke she noticed with fear and joy that he gazed attentively and\ +scrutinizingly at her. She asked herself in perplexity: "What does he\ +look for in me? He is trying to discover something by looking at me!\ +What if what he seeks in me is not there?" Sometimes she fell into one\ +of the mad, merry moods characteristic of her, and then she particularly\ +loved to hear and see how Prince Andrew laughed. He seldom laughed, but\ +when he did he abandoned himself entirely to his laughter, and after\ +such a laugh she always felt nearer to him. Natasha would have been\ +completely happy if the thought of the separation awaiting her and\ +drawing near had not terrified her, just as the mere thought of it made\ +him turn pale and cold.\ +\ +On the eve of his departure from Petersburg Prince Andrew brought with\ +him Pierre, who had not been to the Rostovs' once since the ball. Pierre\ +seemed disconcerted and embarrassed. He was talking to the countess, and\ +Natasha sat down beside a little chess table with Sonya, thereby\ +inviting Prince Andrew to come too. He did so.\ +\ +"You have known Bezukhov a long time?" he asked. "Do you like him?"\ +\ +"Yes, he's a dear, but very absurd."\ +\ +And as usual when speaking of Pierre, she began to tell anecdotes of his\ +absent-mindedness, some of which had even been invented about him.\ +\ +"Do you know I have entrusted him with our secret? I have known him from\ +childhood. He has a heart of gold. I beg you, Natalie," Prince Andrew\ +said with sudden seriousness--"I am going away and heaven knows what may\ +happen. You may cease to... all right, I know I am not to say that. Only\ +this, then: whatever may happen to you when I am not here..."\ +\ +"What can happen?"\ +\ +"Whatever trouble may come," Prince Andrew continued, "I beg you,\ +Mademoiselle Sophie, whatever may happen, to turn to him alone for\ +advice and help! He is a most absent-minded and absurd fellow, but he\ +has a heart of gold."\ +\ +Neither her father, nor her mother, nor Sonya, nor Prince Andrew himself\ +could have foreseen how the separation from her lover would act on\ +Natasha. Flushed and agitated she went about the house all that day,\ +dry-eyed, occupied with most trivial matters as if not understanding\ +what awaited her. She did not even cry when, on taking leave, he kissed\ +her hand for the last time. "Don't go!" she said in a tone that made him\ +wonder whether he really ought not to stay and which he remembered long\ +afterwards. Nor did she cry when he was gone; but for several days she\ +sat in her room dry-eyed, taking no interest in anything and only saying\ +now and then, "Oh, why did he go away?"\ +\ +But a fortnight after his departure, to the surprise of those around\ +her, she recovered from her mental sickness just as suddenly and became\ +her old self again, but with a change in her moral physiognomy, as a\ +child gets up after a long illness with a changed expression of face.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XXV\ +\ +During that year after his son's departure, Prince Nicholas Bolkonski's\ +health and temper became much worse. He grew still more irritable, and\ +it was Princess Mary who generally bore the brunt of his frequent fits\ +of unprovoked anger. He seemed carefully to seek out her tender spots so\ +as to torture her mentally as harshly as possible. Princess Mary had two\ +passions and consequently two joys--her nephew, little Nicholas, and\ +religion--and these were the favorite subjects of the prince's attacks\ +and ridicule. Whatever was spoken of he would bring round to the\ +superstitiousness of old maids, or the petting and spoiling of children.\ +"You want to make him"--little Nicholas--"into an old maid like\ +yourself! A pity! Prince Andrew wants a son and not an old maid," he\ +would say. Or, turning to Mademoiselle Bourienne, he would ask her in\ +Princess Mary's presence how she liked our village priests and icons and\ +would joke about them.\ +\ +He continually hurt Princess Mary's feelings and tormented her, but it\ +cost her no effort to forgive him. Could he be to blame toward her, or\ +could her father, whom she knew loved her in spite of it all, be unjust?\ +And what is justice? The princess never thought of that proud word\ +"justice." All the complex laws of man centered for her in one clear and\ +simple law--the law of love and self-sacrifice taught us by Him who\ +lovingly suffered for mankind though He Himself was God. What had she to\ +do with the justice or injustice of other people? She had to endure and\ +love, and that she did.\ +\ +During the winter Prince Andrew had come to Bald Hills and had been gay,\ +gentle, and more affectionate than Princess Mary had known him for a\ +long time past. She felt that something had happened to him, but he said\ +nothing to her about his love. Before he left he had a long talk with\ +his father about something, and Princess Mary noticed that before his\ +departure they were dissatisfied with one another.\ +\ +Soon after Prince Andrew had gone, Princess Mary wrote to her friend\ +Julie Karagina in Petersburg, whom she had dreamed (as all girls dream)\ +of marrying to her brother, and who was at that time in mourning for her\ +own brother, killed in Turkey.\ +\ +Sorrow, it seems, is our common lot, my dear, tender friend Julie.\ +\ +Your loss is so terrible that I can only explain it to myself as a\ +special providence of God who, loving you, wishes to try you and your\ +excellent mother. Oh, my friend! Religion, and religion alone, can--I\ +will not say comfort us--but save us from despair. Religion alone can\ +explain to us what without its help man cannot comprehend: why, for what\ +cause, kind and noble beings able to find happiness in life--not merely\ +harming no one but necessary to the happiness of others--are called away\ +to God, while cruel, useless, harmful persons, or such as are a burden\ +to themselves and to others, are left living. The first death I saw, and\ +one I shall never forget--that of my dear sister-in-law--left that\ +impression on me. Just as you ask destiny why your splendid brother had\ +to die, so I asked why that angel Lise, who not only never wronged\ +anyone, but in whose soul there were never any unkind thoughts, had to\ +die. And what do you think, dear friend? Five years have passed since\ +then, and already I, with my petty understanding, begin to see clearly\ +why she had to die, and in what way that death was but an expression of\ +the infinite goodness of the Creator, whose every action, though\ +generally incomprehensible to us, is but a manifestation of His infinite\ +love for His creatures. Perhaps, I often think, she was too angelically\ +innocent to have the strength to perform all a mother's duties. As a\ +young wife she was irreproachable; perhaps she could not have been so as\ +a mother. As it is, not only has she left us, and particularly Prince\ +Andrew, with the purest regrets and memories, but probably she will\ +there receive a place I dare not hope for myself. But not to speak of\ +her alone, that early and terrible death has had the most beneficent\ +influence on me and on my brother in spite of all our grief. Then, at\ +the moment of our loss, these thoughts could not occur to me; I should\ +then have dismissed them with horror, but now they are very clear and\ +certain. I write all this to you, dear friend, only to convince you of\ +the Gospel truth which has become for me a principle of life: not a\ +single hair of our heads will fall without His will. And His will is\ +governed only by infinite love for us, and so whatever befalls us is for\ +our good.\ +\ +You ask whether we shall spend next winter in Moscow. In spite of my\ +wish to see you, I do not think so and do not want to do so. You will be\ +surprised to hear that the reason for this is Buonaparte! The case is\ +this: my father's health is growing noticeably worse, he cannot stand\ +any contradiction and is becoming irritable. This irritability is, as\ +you know, chiefly directed to political questions. He cannot endure the\ +notion that Buonaparte is negotiating on equal terms with all the\ +sovereigns of Europe and particularly with our own, the grandson of the\ +Great Catherine! As you know, I am quite indifferent to politics, but\ +from my father's remarks and his talks with Michael Ivanovich I know all\ +that goes on in the world and especially about the honors conferred on\ +Buonaparte, who only at Bald Hills in the whole world, it seems, is not\ +accepted as a great man, still less as Emperor of France. And my father\ +cannot stand this. It seems to me that it is chiefly because of his\ +political views that my father is reluctant to speak of going to Moscow;\ +for he foresees the encounters that would result from his way of\ +expressing his views regardless of anybody. All the benefit he might\ +derive from a course of treatment he would lose as a result of the\ +disputes about Buonaparte which would be inevitable. In any case it will\ +be decided very shortly.\ +\ +Our family life goes on in the old way except for my brother Andrew's\ +absence. He, as I wrote you before, has changed very much of late. After\ +his sorrow he only this year quite recovered his spirits. He has again\ +become as I used to know him when a child: kind, affectionate, with that\ +heart of gold to which I know no equal. He has realized, it seems to me,\ +that life is not over for him. But together with this mental change he\ +has grown physically much weaker. He has become thinner and more\ +nervous. I am anxious about him and glad he is taking this trip abroad\ +which the doctors recommended long ago. I hope it will cure him. You\ +write that in Petersburg he is spoken of as one of the most active,\ +cultivated, and capable of the young men. Forgive my vanity as a\ +relation, but I never doubted it. The good he has done to everybody\ +here, from his peasants up to the gentry, is incalculable. On his\ +arrival in Petersburg he received only his due. I always wonder at the\ +way rumors fly from Petersburg to Moscow, especially such false ones as\ +that you write about--I mean the report of my brother's betrothal to the\ +little Rostova. I do not think my brother will ever marry again, and\ +certainly not her; and this is why: first, I know that though he rarely\ +speaks about the wife he has lost, the grief of that loss has gone too\ +deep in his heart for him ever to decide to give her a successor and our\ +little angel a stepmother. Secondly because, as far as I know, that girl\ +is not the kind of girl who could please Prince Andrew. I do not think\ +he would choose her for a wife, and frankly I do not wish it. But I am\ +running on too long and am at the end of my second sheet. Good-bye, my\ +dear friend. May God keep you in His holy and mighty care. My dear\ +friend, Mademoiselle Bourienne, sends you kisses.\ +\ +MARY\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XXVI\ +\ +In the middle of the summer Princess Mary received an unexpected letter\ +from Prince Andrew in Switzerland in which he gave her strange and\ +surprising news. He informed her of his engagement to Natasha Rostova.\ +The whole letter breathed loving rapture for his betrothed and tender\ +and confiding affection for his sister. He wrote that he had never loved\ +as he did now and that only now did he understand and know what life\ +was. He asked his sister to forgive him for not having told her of his\ +resolve when he had last visited Bald Hills, though he had spoken of it\ +to his father. He had not done so for fear Princess Mary should ask her\ +father to give his consent, irritating him and having to bear the brunt\ +of his displeasure without attaining her object. "Besides," he wrote,\ +"the matter was not then so definitely settled as it is now. My father\ +then insisted on a delay of a year and now already six months, half of\ +that period, have passed, and my resolution is firmer than ever. If the\ +doctors did not keep me here at the spas I should be back in Russia, but\ +as it is I have to postpone my return for three months. You know me and\ +my relations with Father. I want nothing from him. I have been and\ +always shall be independent; but to go against his will and arouse his\ +anger, now that he may perhaps remain with us such a short time, would\ +destroy half my happiness. I am now writing to him about the same\ +question, and beg you to choose a good moment to hand him the letter and\ +to let me know how he looks at the whole matter and whether there is\ +hope that he may consent to reduce the term by four months."\ +\ +After long hesitations, doubts, and prayers, Princess Mary gave the\ +letter to her father. The next day the old prince said to her quietly:\ +\ +"Write and tell your brother to wait till I am dead.... It won't be\ +long--I shall soon set him free."\ +\ +The princess was about to reply, but her father would not let her speak\ +and, raising his voice more and more, cried:\ +\ +"Marry, marry, my boy!... A good family!... Clever people, eh? Rich, eh?\ +Yes, a nice stepmother little Nicholas will have! Write and tell him\ +that he may marry tomorrow if he likes. She will be little Nicholas'\ +stepmother and I'll marry Bourienne!... Ha, ha, ha! He mustn't be\ +without a stepmother either! Only one thing, no more women are wanted in\ +my house--let him marry and live by himself. Perhaps you will go and\ +live with him too?" he added, turning to Princess Mary. "Go in heaven's\ +name! Go out into the frost... the frost... the frost!"\ +\ +After this outburst the prince did not speak any more about the matter.\ +But repressed vexation at his son's poor-spirited behavior found\ +expression in his treatment of his daughter. To his former pretexts for\ +irony a fresh one was now added--allusions to stepmothers and\ +amiabilities to Mademoiselle Bourienne.\ +\ +"Why shouldn't I marry her?" he asked his daughter. "She'll make a\ +splendid princess!"\ +\ +And latterly, to her surprise and bewilderment, Princess Mary noticed\ +that her father was really associating more and more with the\ +Frenchwoman. She wrote to Prince Andrew about the reception of his\ +letter, but comforted him with hopes of reconciling their father to the\ +idea.\ +\ +Little Nicholas and his education, her brother Andrew, and religion were\ +Princess Mary's joys and consolations; but besides that, since everyone\ +must have personal hopes, Princess Mary in the profoundest depths of her\ +heart had a hidden dream and hope that supplied the chief consolation of\ +her life. This comforting dream and hope were given her by God's folk--\ +the half-witted and other pilgrims who visited her without the prince's\ +knowledge. The longer she lived, the more experience and observation she\ +had of life, the greater was her wonder at the short-sightedness of men\ +who seek enjoyment and happiness here on earth: toiling, suffering,\ +struggling, and harming one another, to obtain that impossible,\ +visionary, sinful happiness. Prince Andrew had loved his wife, she died,\ +but that was not enough: he wanted to bind his happiness to another\ +woman. Her father objected to this because he wanted a more\ +distinguished and wealthier match for Andrew. And they all struggled and\ +suffered and tormented one another and injured their souls, their\ +eternal souls, for the attainment of benefits which endure but for an\ +instant. Not only do we know this ourselves, but Christ, the Son of God,\ +came down to earth and told us that this life is but for a moment and is\ +a probation; yet we cling to it and think to find happiness in it. "How\ +is it that no one realizes this?" thought Princess Mary. "No one except\ +these despised God's folk who, wallet on back, come to me by the back\ +door, afraid of being seen by the prince, not for fear of ill-usage by\ +him but for fear of causing him to sin. To leave family, home, and all\ +the cares of worldly welfare, in order without clinging to anything to\ +wander in hempen rags from place to place under an assumed name, doing\ +no one any harm but praying for all--for those who drive one away as\ +well as for those who protect one: higher than that life and truth there\ +is no life or truth!"\ +\ +There was one pilgrim, a quiet pockmarked little woman of fifty called\ +Theodosia, who for over thirty years had gone about barefoot and worn\ +heavy chains. Princess Mary was particularly fond of her. Once, when in\ +a room with a lamp dimly lit before the icon Theodosia was talking of\ +her life, the thought that Theodosia alone had found the true path of\ +life suddenly came to Princess Mary with such force that she resolved to\ +become a pilgrim herself. When Theodosia had gone to sleep Princess Mary\ +thought about this for a long time, and at last made up her mind that,\ +strange as it might seem, she must go on a pilgrimage. She disclosed\ +this thought to no one but to her confessor, Father Akinfi, the monk,\ +and he approved of her intention. Under guise of a present for the\ +pilgrims, Princess Mary prepared a pilgrim's complete costume for\ +herself: a coarse smock, bast shoes, a rough coat, and a black kerchief.\ +Often, approaching the chest of drawers containing this secret treasure,\ +Princess Mary paused, uncertain whether the time had not already come to\ +put her project into execution.\ +\ +Often, listening to the pilgrims' tales, she was so stimulated by their\ +simple speech, mechanical to them but to her so full of deep meaning,\ +that several times she was on the point of abandoning everything and\ +running away from home. In imagination she already pictured herself by\ +Theodosia's side, dressed in coarse rags, walking with a staff, a wallet\ +on her back, along the dusty road, directing her wanderings from one\ +saint's shrine to another, free from envy, earthly love, or desire, and\ +reaching at last the place where there is no more sorrow or sighing, but\ +eternal joy and bliss.\ +\ +"I shall come to a place and pray there, and before having time to get\ +used to it or getting to love it, I shall go farther. I will go on till\ +my legs fail, and I'll lie down and die somewhere, and shall at last\ +reach that eternal, quiet haven, where there is neither sorrow nor\ +sighing..." thought Princess Mary.\ +\ +But afterwards, when she saw her father and especially little Koko\ +(Nicholas), her resolve weakened. She wept quietly, and felt that she\ +was a sinner who loved her father and little nephew more than God.\ +\ +BOOK SEVEN: 1810 - 11\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER I\ +\ +The Bible legend tells us that the absence of labor--idleness--was a\ +condition of the first man's blessedness before the Fall. Fallen man has\ +retained a love of idleness, but the curse weighs on the race not only\ +because we have to seek our bread in the sweat of our brows, but because\ +our moral nature is such that we cannot be both idle and at ease. An\ +inner voice tells us we are in the wrong if we are idle. If man could\ +find a state in which he felt that though idle he was fulfilling his\ +duty, he would have found one of the conditions of man's primitive\ +blessedness. And such a state of obligatory and irreproachable idleness\ +is the lot of a whole class--the military. The chief attraction of\ +military service has consisted and will consist in this compulsory and\ +irreproachable idleness.\ +\ +Nicholas Rostov experienced this blissful condition to the full when,\ +after 1807, he continued to serve in the Pavlograd regiment, in which he\ +already commanded the squadron he had taken over from Denisov.\ +\ +Rostov had become a bluff, good-natured fellow, whom his Moscow\ +acquaintances would have considered rather bad form, but who was liked\ +and respected by his comrades, subordinates, and superiors, and was well\ +contented with his life. Of late, in 1809, he found in letters from home\ +more frequent complaints from his mother that their affairs were falling\ +into greater and greater disorder, and that it was time for him to come\ +back to gladden and comfort his old parents.\ +\ +Reading these letters, Nicholas felt a dread of their wanting to take\ +him away from surroundings in which, protected from all the\ +entanglements of life, he was living so calmly and quietly. He felt that\ +sooner or later he would have to re-enter that whirlpool of life, with\ +its embarrassments and affairs to be straightened out, its accounts with\ +stewards, quarrels, and intrigues, its ties, society, and with Sonya's\ +love and his promise to her. It was all dreadfully difficult and\ +complicated; and he replied to his mother in cold, formal letters in\ +French, beginning: "My dear Mamma," and ending: "Your obedient son,"\ +which said nothing of when he would return. In 1810 he received letters\ +from his parents, in which they told him of Natasha's engagement to\ +Bolkonski, and that the wedding would be in a year's time because the\ +old prince made difficulties. This letter grieved and mortified\ +Nicholas. In the first place he was sorry that Natasha, for whom he\ +cared more than for anyone else in the family, should be lost to the\ +home; and secondly, from his hussar point of view, he regretted not to\ +have been there to show that fellow Bolkonski that connection with him\ +was no such great honor after all, and that if he loved Natasha he might\ +dispense with permission from his dotard father. For a moment he\ +hesitated whether he should not apply for leave in order to see Natasha\ +before she was married, but then came the maneuvers, and considerations\ +about Sonya and about the confusion of their affairs, and Nicholas again\ +put it off. But in the spring of that year, he received a letter from\ +his mother, written without his father's knowledge, and that letter\ +persuaded him to return. She wrote that if he did not come and take\ +matters in hand, their whole property would be sold by auction and they\ +would all have to go begging. The count was so weak, and trusted Mitenka\ +so much, and was so good-natured, that everybody took advantage of him\ +and things were going from bad to worse. "For God's sake, I implore you,\ +come at once if you do not wish to make me and the whole family\ +wretched," wrote the countess.\ +\ +This letter touched Nicholas. He had that common sense of a matter-of-\ +fact man which showed him what he ought to do.\ +\ +The right thing now was, if not to retire from the service, at any rate\ +to go home on leave. Why he had to go he did not know; but after his\ +after-dinner nap he gave orders to saddle Mars, an extremely vicious\ +gray stallion that had not been ridden for a long time, and when he\ +returned with the horse all in a lather, he informed Lavrushka\ +(Denisov's servant who had remained with him) and his comrades who\ +turned up in the evening that he was applying for leave and was going\ +home. Difficult and strange as it was for him to reflect that he would\ +go away without having heard from the staff--and this interested him\ +extremely--whether he was promoted to a captaincy or would receive the\ +Order of St. Anne for the last maneuvers; strange as it was to think\ +that he would go away without having sold his three roans to the Polish\ +Count Golukhovski, who was bargaining for the horses Rostov had betted\ +he would sell for two thousand rubles; incomprehensible as it seemed\ +that the ball the hussars were giving in honor of the Polish\ +Mademoiselle Przazdziecka (out of rivalry to the uhlans who had given\ +one in honor of their Polish Mademoiselle Borzozowska) would take place\ +without him--he knew he must go away from this good, bright world to\ +somewhere where everything was stupid and confused. A week later he\ +obtained his leave. His hussar comrades--not only those of his own\ +regiment, but the whole brigade--gave Rostov a dinner to which the\ +subscription was fifteen rubles a head, and at which there were two\ +bands and two choirs of singers. Rostov danced the Trepak with Major\ +Basov; the tipsy officers tossed, embraced, and dropped Rostov; the\ +soldiers of the third squadron tossed him too, and shouted "hurrah!" and\ +then they put him in his sleigh and escorted him as far as the first\ +post station.\ +\ +During the first half of the journey--from Kremenchug to Kiev--all\ +Rostov's thoughts, as is usual in such cases, were behind him, with the\ +squadron; but when he had gone more than halfway he began to forget his\ +three roans and Dozhoyveyko, his quartermaster, and to wonder anxiously\ +how things would be at Otradnoe and what he would find there. Thoughts\ +of home grew stronger the nearer he approached it--far stronger, as\ +though this feeling of his was subject to the law by which the force of\ +attraction is in inverse proportion to the square of the distance. At\ +the last post station before Otradnoe he gave the driver a three-ruble\ +tip, and on arriving he ran breathlessly, like a boy, up the steps of\ +his home.\ +\ +After the rapture of meeting, and after that odd feeling of unsatisfied\ +expectation--the feeling that "everything is just the same, so why did I\ +hurry?"--Nicholas began to settle down in his old home world. His father\ +and mother were much the same, only a little older. What was new in them\ +was a certain uneasiness and occasional discord, which there used not to\ +be, and which, as Nicholas soon found out, was due to the bad state of\ +their affairs. Sonya was nearly twenty; she had stopped growing prettier\ +and promised nothing more than she was already, but that was enough. She\ +exhaled happiness and love from the time Nicholas returned, and the\ +faithful, unalterable love of this girl had a gladdening effect on him.\ +Petya and Natasha surprised Nicholas most. Petya was a big handsome boy\ +of thirteen, merry, witty, and mischievous, with a voice that was\ +already breaking. As for Natasha, for a long while Nicholas wondered and\ +laughed whenever he looked at her.\ +\ +"You're not the same at all," he said.\ +\ +"How? Am I uglier?"\ +\ +"On the contrary, but what dignity? A princess!" he whispered to her.\ +\ +"Yes, yes, yes!" cried Natasha, joyfully.\ +\ +She told him about her romance with Prince Andrew and of his visit to\ +Otradnoe and showed him his last letter.\ +\ +"Well, are you glad?" Natasha asked. "I am so tranquil and happy now."\ +\ +"Very glad," answered Nicholas. "He is an excellent fellow.... And are\ +you very much in love?"\ +\ +"How shall I put it?" replied Natasha. "I was in love with Boris, with\ +my teacher, and with Denisov, but this is quite different. I feel at\ +peace and settled. I know that no better man than he exists, and I am\ +calm and contented now. Not at all as before."\ +\ +Nicholas expressed his disapproval of the postponement of the marriage\ +for a year; but Natasha attacked her brother with exasperation, proving\ +to him that it could not be otherwise, and that it would be a bad thing\ +to enter a family against the father's will, and that she herself wished\ +it so.\ +\ +"You don't at all understand," she said.\ +\ +Nicholas was silent and agreed with her.\ +\ +Her brother often wondered as he looked at her. She did not seem at all\ +like a girl in love and parted from her affianced husband. She was even-\ +tempered and calm and quite as cheerful as of old. This amazed Nicholas\ +and even made him regard Bolkonski's courtship skeptically. He could not\ +believe that her fate was sealed, especially as he had not seen her with\ +Prince Andrew. It always seemed to him that there was something not\ +quite right about this intended marriage.\ +\ +"Why this delay? Why no betrothal?" he thought. Once, when he had\ +touched on this topic with his mother, he discovered, to his surprise\ +and somewhat to his satisfaction, that in the depth of her soul she too\ +had doubts about this marriage.\ +\ +"You see he writes," said she, showing her son a letter of Prince\ +Andrew's, with that latent grudge a mother always has in regard to a\ +daughter's future married happiness, "he writes that he won't come\ +before December. What can be keeping him? Illness, probably! His health\ +is very delicate. Don't tell Natasha. And don't attach importance to her\ +being so bright: that's because she's living through the last days of\ +her girlhood, but I know what she is like every time we receive a letter\ +from him! However, God grant that everything turns out well!" (She\ +always ended with these words.) "He is an excellent man!"\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER II\ +\ +After reaching home Nicholas was at first serious and even dull. He was\ +worried by the impending necessity of interfering in the stupid business\ +matters for which his mother had called him home. To throw off this\ +burden as quickly as possible, on the third day after his arrival he\ +went, angry and scowling and without answering questions as to where he\ +was going, to Mitenka's lodge and demanded an account of everything. But\ +what an account of everything might be Nicholas knew even less than the\ +frightened and bewildered Mitenka. The conversation and the examination\ +of the accounts with Mitenka did not last long. The village elder, a\ +peasant delegate, and the village clerk, who were waiting in the\ +passage, heard with fear and delight first the young count's voice\ +roaring and snapping and rising louder and louder, and then words of\ +abuse, dreadful words, ejaculated one after the other.\ +\ +"Robber!... Ungrateful wretch!... I'll hack the dog to pieces! I'm not\ +my father!... Robbing us!..." and so on.\ +\ +Then with no less fear and delight they saw how the young count, red in\ +the face and with bloodshot eyes, dragged Mitenka out by the scruff of\ +the neck and applied his foot and knee to his behind with great agility\ +at convenient moments between the words, shouting, "Be off! Never let me\ +see your face here again, you villain!"\ +\ +Mitenka flew headlong down the six steps and ran away into the\ +shrubbery. (This shrubbery was a well-known haven of refuge for culprits\ +at Otradnoe. Mitenka himself, returning tipsy from the town, used to\ +hide there, and many of the residents at Otradnoe, hiding from Mitenka,\ +knew of its protective qualities.)\ +\ +Mitenka's wife and sisters-in-law thrust their heads and frightened\ +faces out of the door of a room where a bright samovar was boiling and\ +where the steward's high bedstead stood with its patchwork quilt.\ +\ +The young count paid no heed to them, but, breathing hard, passed by\ +with resolute strides and went into the house.\ +\ +The countess, who heard at once from the maids what had happened at the\ +lodge, was calmed by the thought that now their affairs would certainly\ +improve, but on the other hand felt anxious as to the effect this\ +excitement might have on her son. She went several times to his door on\ +tiptoe and listened, as he lighted one pipe after another.\ +\ +Next day the old count called his son aside and, with an embarrassed\ +smile, said to him:\ +\ +"But you know, my dear boy, it's a pity you got excited! Mitenka has\ +told me all about it."\ +\ +"I knew," thought Nicholas, "that I should never understand anything in\ +this crazy world."\ +\ +"You were angry that he had not entered those 700 rubles. But they were\ +carried forward--and you did not look at the other page."\ +\ +"Papa, he is a blackguard and a thief! I know he is! And what I have\ +done, I have done; but, if you like, I won't speak to him again."\ +\ +"No, my dear boy" (the count, too, felt embarrassed. He knew he had\ +mismanaged his wife's property and was to blame toward his children, but\ +he did not know how to remedy it). "No, I beg you to attend to the\ +business. I am old. I..."\ +\ +"No, Papa. Forgive me if I have caused you unpleasantness. I understand\ +it all less than you do."\ +\ +"Devil take all these peasants, and money matters, and carryings forward\ +from page to page," he thought. "I used to understand what a 'corner'\ +and the stakes at cards meant, but carrying forward to another page I\ +don't understand at all," said he to himself, and after that he did not\ +meddle in business affairs. But once the countess called her son and\ +informed him that she had a promissory note from Anna Mikhaylovna for\ +two thousand rubles, and asked him what he thought of doing with it.\ +\ +"This," answered Nicholas. "You say it rests with me. Well, I don't like\ +Anna Mikhaylovna and I don't like Boris, but they were our friends and\ +poor. Well then, this!" and he tore up the note, and by so doing caused\ +the old countess to weep tears of joy. After that, young Rostov took no\ +further part in any business affairs, but devoted himself with\ +passionate enthusiasm to what was to him a new pursuit--the chase--for\ +which his father kept a large establishment.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER III\ +\ +The weather was already growing wintry and morning frosts congealed an\ +earth saturated by autumn rains. The verdure had thickened and its\ +bright green stood out sharply against the brownish strips of winter rye\ +trodden down by the cattle, and against the pale-yellow stubble of the\ +spring buckwheat. The wooded ravines and the copses, which at the end of\ +August had still been green islands amid black fields and stubble, had\ +become golden and bright-red islands amid the green winter rye. The\ +hares had already half changed their summer coats, the fox cubs were\ +beginning to scatter, and the young wolves were bigger than dogs. It was\ +the best time of the year for the chase. The hounds of that ardent young\ +sportsman Rostov had not merely reached hard winter condition, but were\ +so jaded that at a meeting of the huntsmen it was decided to give them a\ +three days' rest and then, on the sixteenth of September, to go on a\ +distant expedition, starting from the oak grove where there was an\ +undisturbed litter of wolf cubs.\ +\ +All that day the hounds remained at home. It was frosty and the air was\ +sharp, but toward evening the sky became overcast and it began to thaw.\ +On the fifteenth, when young Rostov, in his dressing gown, looked out of\ +the window, he saw it was an unsurpassable morning for hunting: it was\ +as if the sky were melting and sinking to the earth without any wind.\ +The only motion in the air was that of the dripping, microscopic\ +particles of drizzling mist. The bare twigs in the garden were hung with\ +transparent drops which fell on the freshly fallen leaves. The earth in\ +the kitchen garden looked wet and black and glistened like poppy seed\ +and at a short distance merged into the dull, moist veil of mist.\ +Nicholas went out into the wet and muddy porch. There was a smell of\ +decaying leaves and of dog. Milka, a black-spotted, broad-haunched bitch\ +with prominent black eyes, got up on seeing her master, stretched her\ +hind legs, lay down like a hare, and then suddenly jumped up and licked\ +him right on his nose and mustache. Another borzoi, a dog, catching\ +sight of his master from the garden path, arched his back and, rushing\ +headlong toward the porch with lifted tail, began rubbing himself\ +against his legs.\ +\ +"O-hoy!" came at that moment, that inimitable huntsman's call which\ +unites the deepest bass with the shrillest tenor, and round the corner\ +came Daniel the head huntsman and head kennelman, a gray, wrinkled old\ +man with hair cut straight over his forehead, Ukrainian fashion, a long\ +bent whip in his hand, and that look of independence and scorn of\ +everything that is only seen in huntsmen. He doffed his Circassian cap\ +to his master and looked at him scornfully. This scorn was not offensive\ +to his master. Nicholas knew that this Daniel, disdainful of everybody\ +and who considered himself above them, was all the same his serf and\ +huntsman.\ +\ +"Daniel!" Nicholas said timidly, conscious at the sight of the weather,\ +the hounds, and the huntsman that he was being carried away by that\ +irresistible passion for sport which makes a man forget all his previous\ +resolutions, as a lover forgets in the presence of his mistress.\ +\ +"What orders, your excellency?" said the huntsman in his deep bass, deep\ +as a proto-deacon's and hoarse with hallooing--and two flashing black\ +eyes gazed from under his brows at his master, who was silent. "Can you\ +resist it?" those eyes seemed to be asking.\ +\ +"It's a good day, eh? For a hunt and a gallop, eh?" asked Nicholas,\ +scratching Milka behind the ears.\ +\ +Daniel did not answer, but winked instead.\ +\ +"I sent Uvarka at dawn to listen," his bass boomed out after a minute's\ +pause. "He says she's moved them into the Otradnoe enclosure. They were\ +howling there." (This meant that the she-wolf, about whom they both\ +knew, had moved with her cubs to the Otradnoe copse, a small place a\ +mile and a half from the house.)\ +\ +"We ought to go, don't you think so?" said Nicholas. "Come to me with\ +Uvarka."\ +\ +"As you please."\ +\ +"Then put off feeding them."\ +\ +"Yes, sir."\ +\ +Five minutes later Daniel and Uvarka were standing in Nicholas' big\ +study. Though Daniel was not a big man, to see him in a room was like\ +seeing a horse or a bear on the floor among the furniture and\ +surroundings of human life. Daniel himself felt this, and as usual stood\ +just inside the door, trying to speak softly and not move, for fear of\ +breaking something in the master's apartment, and he hastened to say all\ +that was necessary so as to get from under that ceiling, out into the\ +open under the sky once more.\ +\ +Having finished his inquiries and extorted from Daniel an opinion that\ +the hounds were fit (Daniel himself wished to go hunting), Nicholas\ +ordered the horses to be saddled. But just as Daniel was about to go\ +Natasha came in with rapid steps, not having done up her hair or\ +finished dressing and with her old nurse's big shawl wrapped round her.\ +Petya ran in at the same time.\ +\ +"You are going?" asked Natasha. "I knew you would! Sonya said you\ +wouldn't go, but I knew that today is the sort of day when you couldn't\ +help going."\ +\ +"Yes, we are going," replied Nicholas reluctantly, for today, as he\ +intended to hunt seriously, he did not want to take Natasha and Petya.\ +"We are going, but only wolf hunting: it would be dull for you."\ +\ +"You know it is my greatest pleasure," said Natasha. "It's not fair; you\ +are going by yourself, are having the horses saddled and said nothing to\ +us about it."\ +\ +"'No barrier bars a Russian's path'--we'll go!" shouted Petya.\ +\ +"But you can't. Mamma said you mustn't," said Nicholas to Natasha.\ +\ +"Yes, I'll go. I shall certainly go," said Natasha decisively. "Daniel,\ +tell them to saddle for us, and Michael must come with my dogs," she\ +added to the huntsman.\ +\ +It seemed to Daniel irksome and improper to be in a room at all, but to\ +have anything to do with a young lady seemed to him impossible. He cast\ +down his eyes and hurried out as if it were none of his business,\ +careful as he went not to inflict any accidental injury on the young\ +lady.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER IV\ +\ +The old count, who had always kept up an enormous hunting establishment\ +but had now handed it all completely over to his son's care, being in\ +very good spirits on this fifteenth of September, prepared to go out\ +with the others.\ +\ +In an hour's time the whole hunting party was at the porch. Nicholas,\ +with a stern and serious air which showed that now was no time for\ +attending to trifles, went past Natasha and Petya who were trying to\ +tell him something. He had a look at all the details of the hunt, sent a\ +pack of hounds and huntsmen on ahead to find the quarry, mounted his\ +chestnut Donets, and whistling to his own leash of borzois, set off\ +across the threshing ground to a field leading to the Otradnoe wood. The\ +old count's horse, a sorrel gelding called Viflyanka, was led by the\ +groom in attendance on him, while the count himself was to drive in a\ +small trap straight to a spot reserved for him.\ +\ +They were taking fifty-four hounds, with six hunt attendants and\ +whippers-in. Besides the family, there were eight borzoi kennelmen and\ +more than forty borzois, so that, with the borzois on the leash\ +belonging to members of the family, there were about a hundred and\ +thirty dogs and twenty horsemen.\ +\ +Each dog knew its master and its call. Each man in the hunt knew his\ +business, his place, what he had to do. As soon as they had passed the\ +fence they all spread out evenly and quietly, without noise or talk,\ +along the road and field leading to the Otradnoe covert.\ +\ +The horses stepped over the field as over a thick carpet, now and then\ +splashing into puddles as they crossed a road. The misty sky still\ +seemed to descend evenly and imperceptibly toward the earth, the air was\ +still, warm, and silent. Occasionally the whistle of a huntsman, the\ +snort of a horse, the crack of a whip, or the whine of a straggling\ +hound could be heard.\ +\ +When they had gone a little less than a mile, five more riders with dogs\ +appeared out of the mist, approaching the Rostovs. In front rode a\ +fresh-looking, handsome old man with a large gray mustache.\ +\ +"Good morning, Uncle!" said Nicholas, when the old man drew near.\ +\ +"That's it. Come on!... I was sure of it," began "Uncle." (He was a\ +distant relative of the Rostovs', a man of small means, and their\ +neighbor.) "I knew you wouldn't be able to resist it and it's a good\ +thing you're going. That's it! Come on!" (This was "Uncle's" favorite\ +expression.) "Take the covert at once, for my Girchik says the Ilagins\ +are at Korniki with their hounds. That's it. Come on!... They'll take\ +the cubs from under your very nose."\ +\ +"That's where I'm going. Shall we join up our packs?" asked Nicholas.\ +\ +The hounds were joined into one pack, and "Uncle" and Nicholas rode on\ +side by side. Natasha, muffled up in shawls which did not hide her eager\ +face and shining eyes, galloped up to them. She was followed by Petya\ +who always kept close to her, by Michael, a huntsman, and by a groom\ +appointed to look after her. Petya, who was laughing, whipped and pulled\ +at his horse. Natasha sat easily and confidently on her black Arabchik\ +and reined him in without effort with a firm hand.\ +\ +"Uncle" looked round disapprovingly at Petya and Natasha. He did not\ +like to combine frivolity with the serious business of hunting.\ +\ +"Good morning, Uncle! We are going too!" shouted Petya.\ +\ +"Good morning, good morning! But don't go overriding the hounds," said\ +"Uncle" sternly.\ +\ +"Nicholas, what a fine dog Trunila is! He knew me," said Natasha,\ +referring to her favorite hound.\ +\ +"In the first place, Trunila is not a 'dog,' but a harrier," thought\ +Nicholas, and looked sternly at his sister, trying to make her feel the\ +distance that ought to separate them at that moment. Natasha understood\ +it.\ +\ +"You mustn't think we'll be in anyone's way, Uncle," she said. "We'll go\ +to our places and won't budge."\ +\ +"A good thing too, little countess," said "Uncle," "only mind you don't\ +fall off your horse," he added, "because--that's it, come on!--you've\ +nothing to hold on to."\ +\ +The oasis of the Otradnoe covert came in sight a few hundred yards off,\ +the huntsmen were already nearing it. Rostov, having finally settled\ +with "Uncle" where they should set on the hounds, and having shown\ +Natasha where she was to stand--a spot where nothing could possibly run\ +out--went round above the ravine.\ +\ +"Well, nephew, you're going for a big wolf," said "Uncle." "Mind and\ +don't let her slip!"\ +\ +"That's as may happen," answered Rostov. "Karay, here!" he shouted,\ +answering "Uncle's" remark by this call to his borzoi. Karay was a\ +shaggy old dog with a hanging jowl, famous for having tackled a big wolf\ +unaided. They all took up their places.\ +\ +The old count, knowing his son's ardor in the hunt, hurried so as not to\ +be late, and the huntsmen had not yet reached their places when Count\ +Ilya Rostov, cheerful, flushed, and with quivering cheeks, drove up with\ +his black horses over the winter rye to the place reserved for him,\ +where a wolf might come out. Having straightened his coat and fastened\ +on his hunting knives and horn, he mounted his good, sleek, well-fed,\ +and comfortable horse, Viflyanka, which was turning gray, like himself.\ +His horses and trap were sent home. Count Ilya Rostov, though not at\ +heart a keen sportsman, knew the rules of the hunt well, and rode to the\ +bushy edge of the road where he was to stand, arranged his reins,\ +settled himself in the saddle, and, feeling that he was ready, looked\ +about with a smile.\ +\ +Beside him was Simon Chekmar, his personal attendant, an old horseman\ +now somewhat stiff in the saddle. Chekmar held in leash three formidable\ +wolfhounds, who had, however, grown fat like their master and his horse.\ +Two wise old dogs lay down unleashed. Some hundred paces farther along\ +the edge of the wood stood Mitka, the count's other groom, a daring\ +horseman and keen rider to hounds. Before the hunt, by old custom, the\ +count had drunk a silver cupful of mulled brandy, taken a snack, and\ +washed it down with half a bottle of his favorite Bordeaux.\ +\ +He was somewhat flushed with the wine and the drive. His eyes were\ +rather moist and glittered more than usual, and as he sat in his saddle,\ +wrapped up in his fur coat, he looked like a child taken out for an\ +outing.\ +\ +The thin, hollow-cheeked Chekmar, having got everything ready, kept\ +glancing at his master with whom he had lived on the best of terms for\ +thirty years, and understanding the mood he was in expected a pleasant\ +chat. A third person rode up circumspectly through the wood (it was\ +plain that he had had a lesson) and stopped behind the count. This\ +person was a gray-bearded old man in a woman's cloak, with a tall peaked\ +cap on his head. He was the buffoon, who went by a woman's name,\ +Nastasya Ivanovna.\ +\ +"Well, Nastasya Ivanovna!" whispered the count, winking at him. "If you\ +scare away the beast, Daniel'll give it you!"\ +\ +"I know a thing or two myself!" said Nastasya Ivanovna.\ +\ +"Hush!" whispered the count and turned to Simon. "Have you seen the\ +young countess?" he asked. "Where is she?"\ +\ +"With young Count Peter, by the Zharov rank grass," answered Simon,\ +smiling. "Though she's a lady, she's very fond of hunting."\ +\ +"And you're surprised at the way she rides, Simon, eh?" said the count.\ +"She's as good as many a man!"\ +\ +"Of course! It's marvelous. So bold, so easy!"\ +\ +"And Nicholas? Where is he? By the Lyadov upland, isn't he?"\ +\ +"Yes, sir. He knows where to stand. He understands the matter so well\ +that Daniel and I are often quite astounded," said Simon, well knowing\ +what would please his master.\ +\ +"Rides well, eh? And how well he looks on his horse, eh?"\ +\ +"A perfect picture! How he chased a fox out of the rank grass by the\ +Zavarzinsk thicket the other day! Leaped a fearful place; what a sight\ +when they rushed from the covert... the horse worth a thousand rubles\ +and the rider beyond all price! Yes, one would have to search far to\ +find another as smart."\ +\ +"To search far..." repeated the count, evidently sorry Simon had not\ +said more. "To search far," he said, turning back the skirt of his coat\ +to get at his snuffbox.\ +\ +"The other day when he came out from Mass in full uniform, Michael\ +Sidorych..." Simon did not finish, for on the still air he had\ +distinctly caught the music of the hunt with only two or three hounds\ +giving tongue. He bent down his head and listened, shaking a warning\ +finger at his master. "They are on the scent of the cubs..." he\ +whispered, "straight to the Lyadov uplands."\ +\ +The count, forgetting to smooth out the smile on his face, looked into\ +the distance straight before him, down the narrow open space, holding\ +the snuffbox in his hand but not taking any. After the cry of the hounds\ +came the deep tones of the wolf call from Daniel's hunting horn; the\ +pack joined the first three hounds and they could be heard in full cry,\ +with that peculiar lift in the note that indicates that they are after a\ +wolf. The whippers-in no longer set on the hounds, but changed to the\ +cry of ulyulyu, and above the others rose Daniel's voice, now a deep\ +bass, now piercingly shrill. His voice seemed to fill the whole wood and\ +carried far beyond out into the open field.\ +\ +After listening a few moments in silence, the count and his attendant\ +convinced themselves that the hounds had separated into two packs: the\ +sound of the larger pack, eagerly giving tongue, began to die away in\ +the distance, the other pack rushed by the wood past the count, and it\ +was with this that Daniel's voice was heard calling ulyulyu. The sounds\ +of both packs mingled and broke apart again, but both were becoming more\ +distant.\ +\ +Simon sighed and stooped to straighten the leash a young borzoi had\ +entangled; the count too sighed and, noticing the snuffbox in his hand,\ +opened it and took a pinch. "Back!" cried Simon to a borzoi that was\ +pushing forward out of the wood. The count started and dropped the\ +snuffbox. Nastasya Ivanovna dismounted to pick it up. The count and\ +Simon were looking at him.\ +\ +Then, unexpectedly, as often happens, the sound of the hunt suddenly\ +approached, as if the hounds in full cry and Daniel ulyulyuing were just\ +in front of them.\ +\ +The count turned and saw on his right Mitka staring at him with eyes\ +starting out of his head, raising his cap and pointing before him to the\ +other side.\ +\ +"Look out!" he shouted, in a voice plainly showing that he had long\ +fretted to utter that word, and letting the borzois slip he galloped\ +toward the count.\ +\ +The count and Simon galloped out of the wood and saw on their left a\ +wolf which, softly swaying from side to side, was coming at a quiet lope\ +farther to the left to the very place where they were standing. The\ +angry borzois whined and getting free of the leash rushed past the\ +horses' feet at the wolf.\ +\ +The wolf paused, turned its heavy forehead toward the dogs awkwardly,\ +like a man suffering from the quinsy, and, still slightly swaying from\ +side to side, gave a couple of leaps and with a swish of its tail\ +disappeared into the skirt of the wood. At the same instant, with a cry\ +like a wail, first one hound, then another, and then another, sprang\ +helter-skelter from the wood opposite and the whole pack rushed across\ +the field toward the very spot where the wolf had disappeared. The hazel\ +bushes parted behind the hounds and Daniel's chestnut horse appeared,\ +dark with sweat. On its long back sat Daniel, hunched forward, capless,\ +his disheveled gray hair hanging over his flushed, perspiring face.\ +\ +"Ulyulyulyu! ulyulyu!..." he cried. When he caught sight of the count\ +his eyes flashed lightning.\ +\ +"Blast you!" he shouted, holding up his whip threateningly at the count.\ +\ +"You've let the wolf go!... What sportsmen!" and as if scorning to say\ +more to the frightened and shamefaced count, he lashed the heaving\ +flanks of his sweating chestnut gelding with all the anger the count had\ +aroused and flew off after the hounds. The count, like a punished\ +schoolboy, looked round, trying by a smile to win Simon's sympathy for\ +his plight. But Simon was no longer there. He was galloping round by the\ +bushes while the field was coming up on both sides, all trying to head\ +the wolf, but it vanished into the wood before they could do so.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER V\ +\ +Nicholas Rostov meanwhile remained at his post, waiting for the wolf. By\ +the way the hunt approached and receded, by the cries of the dogs whose\ +notes were familiar to him, by the way the voices of the huntsmen\ +approached, receded, and rose, he realized what was happening at the\ +copse. He knew that young and old wolves were there, that the hounds had\ +separated into two packs, that somewhere a wolf was being chased, and\ +that something had gone wrong. He expected the wolf to come his way any\ +moment. He made thousands of different conjectures as to where and from\ +what side the beast would come and how he would set upon it. Hope\ +alternated with despair. Several times he addressed a prayer to God that\ +the wolf should come his way. He prayed with that passionate and\ +shamefaced feeling with which men pray at moments of great excitement\ +arising from trivial causes. "What would it be to Thee to do this for\ +me?" he said to God. "I know Thou art great, and that it is a sin to ask\ +this of Thee, but for God's sake do let the old wolf come my way and let\ +Karay spring at it--in sight of 'Uncle' who is watching from over there-\ +-and seize it by the throat in a death grip!" A thousand times during\ +that half-hour Rostov cast eager and restless glances over the edge of\ +the wood, with the two scraggy oaks rising above the aspen undergrowth\ +and the gully with its water-worn side and "Uncle's" cap just visible\ +above the bush on his right.\ +\ +"No, I shan't have such luck," thought Rostov, "yet what wouldn't it be\ +worth! It is not to be! Everywhere, at cards and in war, I am always\ +unlucky." Memories of Austerlitz and of Dolokhov flashed rapidly and\ +clearly through his mind. "Only once in my life to get an old wolf, I\ +want only that!" thought he, straining eyes and ears and looking to the\ +left and then to the right and listening to the slightest variation of\ +note in the cries of the dogs.\ +\ +Again he looked to the right and saw something running toward him across\ +the deserted field. "No, it can't be!" thought Rostov, taking a deep\ +breath, as a man does at the coming of something long hoped for. The\ +height of happiness was reached--and so simply, without warning, or\ +noise, or display, that Rostov could not believe his eyes and remained\ +in doubt for over a second. The wolf ran forward and jumped heavily over\ +a gully that lay in her path. She was an old animal with a gray back and\ +big reddish belly. She ran without hurry, evidently feeling sure that no\ +one saw her. Rostov, holding his breath, looked round at the borzois.\ +They stood or lay not seeing the wolf or understanding the situation.\ +Old Karay had turned his head and was angrily searching for fleas,\ +baring his yellow teeth and snapping at his hind legs.\ +\ +"Ulyulyulyu!" whispered Rostov, pouting his lips. The borzois jumped up,\ +jerking the rings of the leashes and pricking their ears. Karay finished\ +scratching his hindquarters and, cocking his ears, got up with quivering\ +tail from which tufts of matted hair hung down.\ +\ +"Shall I loose them or not?" Nicholas asked himself as the wolf\ +approached him coming from the copse. Suddenly the wolf's whole\ +physiognomy changed: she shuddered, seeing what she had probably never\ +seen before--human eyes fixed upon her--and turning her head a little\ +toward Rostov, she paused.\ +\ +"Back or forward? Eh, no matter, forward..." the wolf seemed to say to\ +herself, and she moved forward without again looking round and with a\ +quiet, long, easy yet resolute lope.\ +\ +"Ulyulyu!" cried Nicholas, in a voice not his own, and of its own accord\ +his good horse darted headlong downhill, leaping over gullies to head\ +off the wolf, and the borzois passed it, running faster still. Nicholas\ +did not hear his own cry nor feel that he was galloping, nor see the\ +borzois, nor the ground over which he went: he saw only the wolf, who,\ +increasing her speed, bounded on in the same direction along the hollow.\ +The first to come into view was Milka, with her black markings and\ +powerful quarters, gaining upon the wolf. Nearer and nearer... now she\ +was ahead of it; but the wolf turned its head to face her, and instead\ +of putting on speed as she usually did Milka suddenly raised her tail\ +and stiffened her forelegs.\ +\ +"Ulyulyulyulyu!" shouted Nicholas.\ +\ +The reddish Lyubim rushed forward from behind Milka, sprang impetuously\ +at the wolf, and seized it by its hindquarters, but immediately jumped\ +aside in terror. The wolf crouched, gnashed her teeth, and again rose\ +and bounded forward, followed at the distance of a couple of feet by all\ +the borzois, who did not get any closer to her.\ +\ +"She'll get away! No, it's impossible!" thought Nicholas, still shouting\ +with a hoarse voice.\ +\ +"Karay, ulyulyu!..." he shouted, looking round for the old borzoi who\ +was now his only hope. Karay, with all the strength age had left him,\ +stretched himself to the utmost and, watching the wolf, galloped heavily\ +aside to intercept it. But the quickness of the wolf's lope and the\ +borzoi's slower pace made it plain that Karay had miscalculated.\ +Nicholas could already see not far in front of him the wood where the\ +wolf would certainly escape should she reach it. But, coming toward him,\ +he saw hounds and a huntsman galloping almost straight at the wolf.\ +There was still hope. A long, yellowish young borzoi, one Nicholas did\ +not know, from another leash, rushed impetuously at the wolf from in\ +front and almost knocked her over. But the wolf jumped up more quickly\ +than anyone could have expected and, gnashing her teeth, flew at the\ +yellowish borzoi, which, with a piercing yelp, fell with its head on the\ +ground, bleeding from a gash in its side.\ +\ +"Karay? Old fellow!..." wailed Nicholas.\ +\ +Thanks to the delay caused by this crossing of the wolf's path, the old\ +dog with its felted hair hanging from its thigh was within five paces of\ +it. As if aware of her danger, the wolf turned her eyes on Karay, tucked\ +her tail yet further between her legs, and increased her speed. But here\ +Nicholas only saw that something happened to Karay--the borzoi was\ +suddenly on the wolf, and they rolled together down into a gully just in\ +front of them.\ +\ +That instant, when Nicholas saw the wolf struggling in the gully with\ +the dogs, while from under them could be seen her gray hair and\ +outstretched hind leg and her frightened choking head, with her ears\ +laid back (Karay was pinning her by the throat), was the happiest moment\ +of his life. With his hand on his saddlebow, he was ready to dismount\ +and stab the wolf, when she suddenly thrust her head up from among that\ +mass of dogs, and then her forepaws were on the edge of the gully. She\ +clicked her teeth (Karay no longer had her by the throat), leaped with a\ +movement of her hind legs out of the gully, and having disengaged\ +herself from the dogs, with tail tucked in again, went forward. Karay,\ +his hair bristling, and probably bruised or wounded, climbed with\ +difficulty out of the gully.\ +\ +"Oh my God! Why?" Nicholas cried in despair.\ +\ +"Uncle's" huntsman was galloping from the other side across the wolf's\ +path and his borzois once more stopped the animal's advance. She was\ +again hemmed in.\ +\ +Nicholas and his attendant, with "Uncle" and his huntsman, were all\ +riding round the wolf, crying "ulyulyu!" shouting and preparing to\ +dismount each moment that the wolf crouched back, and starting forward\ +again every time she shook herself and moved toward the wood where she\ +would be safe.\ +\ +Already, at the beginning of this chase, Daniel, hearing the ulyulyuing,\ +had rushed out from the wood. He saw Karay seize the wolf, and checked\ +his horse, supposing the affair to be over. But when he saw that the\ +horsemen did not dismount and that the wolf shook herself and ran for\ +safety, Daniel set his chestnut galloping, not at the wolf but straight\ +toward the wood, just as Karay had run to cut the animal off. As a\ +result of this, he galloped up to the wolf just when she had been\ +stopped a second time by "Uncle's" borzois.\ +\ +Daniel galloped up silently, holding a naked dagger in his left hand and\ +thrashing the laboring sides of his chestnut horse with his whip as if\ +it were a flail.\ +\ +Nicholas neither saw nor heard Daniel until the chestnut, breathing\ +heavily, panted past him, and he heard the fall of a body and saw Daniel\ +lying on the wolf's back among the dogs, trying to seize her by the\ +ears. It was evident to the dogs, the hunters, and to the wolf herself\ +that all was now over. The terrified wolf pressed back her ears and\ +tried to rise, but the borzois stuck to her. Daniel rose a little, took\ +a step, and with his whole weight, as if lying down to rest, fell on the\ +wolf, seizing her by the ears. Nicholas was about to stab her, but\ +Daniel whispered, "Don't! We'll gag her!" and, changing his position,\ +set his foot on the wolf's neck. A stick was thrust between her jaws and\ +she was fastened with a leash, as if bridled, her legs were bound\ +together, and Daniel rolled her over once or twice from side to side.\ +\ +With happy, exhausted faces, they laid the old wolf, alive, on a shying\ +and snorting horse and, accompanied by the dogs yelping at her, took her\ +to the place where they were all to meet. The hounds had killed two of\ +the cubs and the borzois three. The huntsmen assembled with their booty\ +and their stories, and all came to look at the wolf, which, with her\ +broad-browed head hanging down and the bitten stick between her jaws,\ +gazed with great glassy eyes at this crowd of dogs and men surrounding\ +her. When she was touched, she jerked her bound legs and looked wildly\ +yet simply at everybody. Old Count Rostov also rode up and touched the\ +wolf.\ +\ +"Oh, what a formidable one!" said he. "A formidable one, eh?" he asked\ +Daniel, who was standing near.\ +\ +"Yes, your excellency," answered Daniel, quickly doffing his cap.\ +\ +The count remembered the wolf he had let slip and his encounter with\ +Daniel.\ +\ +"Ah, but you are a crusty fellow, friend!" said the count.\ +\ +For sole reply Daniel gave him a shy, childlike, meek, and amiable\ +smile.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER VI\ +\ +The old count went home, and Natasha and Petya promised to return very\ +soon, but as it was still early the hunt went farther. At midday they\ +put the hounds into a ravine thickly overgrown with young trees.\ +Nicholas standing in a fallow field could see all his whips.\ +\ +Facing him lay a field of winter rye, there his own huntsman stood alone\ +in a hollow behind a hazel bush. The hounds had scarcely been loosed\ +before Nicholas heard one he knew, Voltorn, giving tongue at intervals;\ +other hounds joined in, now pausing and now again giving tongue. A\ +moment later he heard a cry from the wooded ravine that a fox had been\ +found, and the whole pack, joining together, rushed along the ravine\ +toward the ryefield and away from Nicholas.\ +\ +He saw the whips in their red caps galloping along the edge of the\ +ravine, he even saw the hounds, and was expecting a fox to show itself\ +at any moment on the ryefield opposite.\ +\ +The huntsman standing in the hollow moved and loosed his borzois, and\ +Nicholas saw a queer, short-legged red fox with a fine brush going hard\ +across the field. The borzois bore down on it.... Now they drew close to\ +the fox which began to dodge between the field in sharper and sharper\ +curves, trailing its brush, when suddenly a strange white borzoi dashed\ +in followed by a black one, and everything was in confusion; the borzois\ +formed a star-shaped figure, scarcely swaying their bodies and with\ +tails turned away from the center of the group. Two huntsmen galloped up\ +to the dogs; one in a red cap, the other, a stranger, in a green coat.\ +\ +"What's this?" thought Nicholas. "Where's that huntsman from? He is not\ +'Uncle's' man."\ +\ +The huntsmen got the fox, but stayed there a long time without strapping\ +it to the saddle. Their horses, bridled and with high saddles, stood\ +near them and there too the dogs were lying. The huntsmen waved their\ +arms and did something to the fox. Then from that spot came the sound of\ +a horn, with the signal agreed on in case of a fight.\ +\ +"That's Ilagin's huntsman having a row with our Ivan," said Nicholas'\ +groom.\ +\ +Nicholas sent the man to call Natasha and Petya to him, and rode at a\ +footpace to the place where the whips were getting the hounds together.\ +Several of the field galloped to the spot where the fight was going on.\ +\ +Nicholas dismounted, and with Natasha and Petya, who had ridden up,\ +stopped near the hounds, waiting to see how the matter would end. Out of\ +the bushes came the huntsman who had been fighting and rode toward his\ +young master, with the fox tied to his crupper. While still at a\ +distance he took off his cap and tried to speak respectfully, but he was\ +pale and breathless and his face was angry. One of his eyes was black,\ +but he probably was not even aware of it.\ +\ +"What has happened?" asked Nicholas.\ +\ +"A likely thing, killing a fox our dogs had hunted! And it was my gray\ +bitch that caught it! Go to law, indeed!... He snatches at the fox! I\ +gave him one with the fox. Here it is on my saddle! Do you want a taste\ +of this?..." said the huntsman, pointing to his dagger and probably\ +imagining himself still speaking to his foe.\ +\ +Nicholas, not stopping to talk to the man, asked his sister and Petya to\ +wait for him and rode to the spot where the enemy's, Ilagin's, hunting\ +party was.\ +\ +The victorious huntsman rode off to join the field, and there,\ +surrounded by inquiring sympathizers, recounted his exploits.\ +\ +The facts were that Ilagin, with whom the Rostovs had a quarrel and were\ +at law, hunted over places that belonged by custom to the Rostovs, and\ +had now, as if purposely, sent his men to the very woods the Rostovs\ +were hunting and let his man snatch a fox their dogs had chased.\ +\ +Nicholas, though he had never seen Ilagin, with his usual absence of\ +moderation in judgment, hated him cordially from reports of his\ +arbitrariness and violence, and regarded him as his bitterest foe. He\ +rode in angry agitation toward him, firmly grasping his whip and fully\ +prepared to take the most resolute and desperate steps to punish his\ +enemy.\ +\ +Hardly had he passed an angle of the wood before a stout gentleman in a\ +beaver cap came riding toward him on a handsome raven-black horse,\ +accompanied by two hunt servants.\ +\ +Instead of an enemy, Nicholas found in Ilagin a stately and courteous\ +gentleman who was particularly anxious to make the young count's\ +acquaintance. Having ridden up to Nicholas, Ilagin raised his beaver cap\ +and said he much regretted what had occurred and would have the man\ +punished who had allowed himself to seize a fox hunted by someone else's\ +borzois. He hoped to become better acquainted with the count and invited\ +him to draw his covert.\ +\ +Natasha, afraid that her brother would do something dreadful, had\ +followed him in some excitement. Seeing the enemies exchanging friendly\ +greetings, she rode up to them. Ilagin lifted his beaver cap still\ +higher to Natasha and said, with a pleasant smile, that the young\ +countess resembled Diana in her passion for the chase as well as in her\ +beauty, of which he had heard much.\ +\ +To expiate his huntsman's offense, Ilagin pressed the Rostovs to come to\ +an upland of his about a mile away which he usually kept for himself and\ +which, he said, swarmed with hares. Nicholas agreed, and the hunt, now\ +doubled, moved on.\ +\ +The way to Iligin's upland was across the fields. The hunt servants fell\ +into line. The masters rode together. "Uncle," Rostov, and Ilagin kept\ +stealthily glancing at one another's dogs, trying not to be observed by\ +their companions and searching uneasily for rivals to their own borzois.\ +\ +Rostov was particularly struck by the beauty of a small, pure-bred, red-\ +spotted bitch on Ilagin's leash, slender but with muscles like steel, a\ +delicate muzzle, and prominent black eyes. He had heard of the swiftness\ +of Ilagin's borzois, and in that beautiful bitch saw a rival to his own\ +Milka.\ +\ +In the middle of a sober conversation begun by Ilagin about the year's\ +harvest, Nicholas pointed to the red-spotted bitch.\ +\ +"A fine little bitch, that!" said he in a careless tone. "Is she swift?"\ +\ +"That one? Yes, she's a good dog, gets what she's after," answered\ +Ilagin indifferently, of the red-spotted bitch Erza, for which, a year\ +before, he had given a neighbor three families of house serfs. "So in\ +your parts, too, the harvest is nothing to boast of, Count?" he went on,\ +continuing the conversation they had begun. And considering it polite to\ +return the young count's compliment, Ilagin looked at his borzois and\ +picked out Milka who attracted his attention by her breadth. "That\ +black-spotted one of yours is fine--well shaped!" said he.\ +\ +"Yes, she's fast enough," replied Nicholas, and thought: "If only a\ +full-grown hare would cross the field now I'd show you what sort of\ +borzoi she is," and turning to his groom, he said he would give a ruble\ +to anyone who found a hare.\ +\ +"I don't understand," continued Ilagin, "how some sportsmen can be so\ +jealous about game and dogs. For myself, I can tell you, Count, I enjoy\ +riding in company such as this... what could be better?" (he again\ +raised his cap to Natasha) "but as for counting skins and what one\ +takes, I don't care about that."\ +\ +"Of course not!"\ +\ +"Or being upset because someone else's borzoi and not mine catches\ +something. All I care about is to enjoy seeing the chase, is it not so,\ +Count? For I consider that..."\ +\ +"A-tu!" came the long-drawn cry of one of the borzoi whippers-in, who\ +had halted. He stood on a knoll in the stubble, holding his whip aloft,\ +and again repeated his long-drawn cry, "A-tu!" (This call and the\ +uplifted whip meant that he saw a sitting hare.)\ +\ +"Ah, he has found one, I think," said Ilagin carelessly. "Yes, we must\ +ride up.... Shall we both course it?" answered Nicholas, seeing in Erza\ +and "Uncle's" red Rugay two rivals he had never yet had a chance of\ +pitting against his own borzois. "And suppose they outdo my Milka at\ +once!" he thought as he rode with "Uncle" and Ilagin toward the hare.\ +\ +"A full-grown one?" asked Ilagin as he approached the whip who had\ +sighted the hare--and not without agitation he looked round and whistled\ +to Erza.\ +\ +"And you, Michael Nikanorovich?" he said, addressing "Uncle."\ +\ +The latter was riding with a sullen expression on his face.\ +\ +"How can I join in? Why, you've given a village for each of your\ +borzois! That's it, come on! Yours are worth thousands. Try yours\ +against one another, you two, and I'll look on!"\ +\ +"Rugay, hey, hey!" he shouted. "Rugayushka!" he added, involuntarily by\ +this diminutive expressing his affection and the hopes he placed on this\ +red borzoi. Natasha saw and felt the agitation the two elderly men and\ +her brother were trying to conceal, and was herself excited by it.\ +\ +The huntsman stood halfway up the knoll holding up his whip and the\ +gentlefolk rode up to him at a footpace; the hounds that were far off on\ +the horizon turned away from the hare, and the whips, but not the\ +gentlefolk, also moved away. All were moving slowly and sedately.\ +\ +"How is it pointing?" asked Nicholas, riding a hundred paces toward the\ +whip who had sighted the hare.\ +\ +But before the whip could reply, the hare, scenting the frost coming\ +next morning, was unable to rest and leaped up. The pack on leash rushed\ +downhill in full cry after the hare, and from all sides the borzois that\ +were not on leash darted after the hounds and the hare. All the hunt,\ +who had been moving slowly, shouted, "Stop!" calling in the hounds,\ +while the borzoi whips, with a cry of "A-tu!" galloped across the field\ +setting the borzois on the hare. The tranquil Ilagin, Nicholas, Natasha,\ +and "Uncle" flew, reckless of where and how they went, seeing only the\ +borzois and the hare and fearing only to lose sight even for an instant\ +of the chase. The hare they had started was a strong and swift one. When\ +he jumped up he did not run at once, but pricked his ears listening to\ +the shouting and trampling that resounded from all sides at once. He\ +took a dozen bounds, not very quickly, letting the borzois gain on him,\ +and, finally having chosen his direction and realized his danger, laid\ +back his ears and rushed off headlong. He had been lying in the stubble,\ +but in front of him was the autumn sowing where the ground was soft. The\ +two borzois of the huntsman who had sighted him, having been the\ +nearest, were the first to see and pursue him, but they had not gone far\ +before Ilagin's red-spotted Erza passed them, got within a length, flew\ +at the hare with terrible swiftness aiming at his scut, and, thinking\ +she had seized him, rolled over like a ball. The hare arched his back\ +and bounded off yet more swiftly. From behind Erza rushed the broad-\ +haunched, black-spotted Milka and began rapidly gaining on the hare.\ +\ +"Milashka, dear!" rose Nicholas' triumphant cry. It looked as if Milka\ +would immediately pounce on the hare, but she overtook him and flew\ +past. The hare had squatted. Again the beautiful Erza reached him, but\ +when close to the hare's scut paused as if measuring the distance, so as\ +not to make a mistake this time but seize his hind leg.\ +\ +"Erza, darling!" Ilagin wailed in a voice unlike his own. Erza did not\ +hearken to his appeal. At the very moment when she would have seized her\ +prey, the hare moved and darted along the balk between the winter rye\ +and the stubble. Again Erza and Milka were abreast, running like a pair\ +of carriage horses, and began to overtake the hare, but it was easier\ +for the hare to run on the balk and the borzois did not overtake him so\ +quickly.\ +\ +"Rugay, Rugayushka! That's it, come on!" came a third voice just then,\ +and "Uncle's" red borzoi, straining and curving its back, caught up with\ +the two foremost borzois, pushed ahead of them regardless of the\ +terrible strain, put on speed close to the hare, knocked it off the balk\ +onto the ryefield, again put on speed still more viciously, sinking to\ +his knees in the muddy field, and all one could see was how, muddying\ +his back, he rolled over with the hare. A ring of borzois surrounded\ +him. A moment later everyone had drawn up round the crowd of dogs. Only\ +the delighted "Uncle" dismounted, and cut off a pad, shaking the hare\ +for the blood to drip off, and anxiously glancing round with restless\ +eyes while his arms and legs twitched. He spoke without himself knowing\ +whom to or what about. "That's it, come on! That's a dog!... There, it\ +has beaten them all, the thousand-ruble as well as the one-ruble\ +borzois. That's it, come on!" said he, panting and looking wrathfully\ +around as if he were abusing someone, as if they were all his enemies\ +and had insulted him, and only now had he at last succeeded in\ +justifying himself. "There are your thousand-ruble ones.... That's it,\ +come on!..."\ +\ +"Rugay, here's a pad for you!" he said, throwing down the hare's muddy\ +pad. "You've deserved it, that's it, come on!"\ +\ +"She'd tired herself out, she'd run it down three times by herself,"\ +said Nicholas, also not listening to anyone and regardless of whether he\ +were heard or not.\ +\ +"But what is there in running across it like that?" said Ilagin's groom.\ +\ +"Once she had missed it and turned it away, any mongrel could take it,"\ +Ilagin was saying at the same time, breathless from his gallop and his\ +excitement. At the same moment Natasha, without drawing breath, screamed\ +joyously, ecstatically, and so piercingly that it set everyone's ear\ +tingling. By that shriek she expressed what the others expressed by all\ +talking at once, and it was so strange that she must herself have been\ +ashamed of so wild a cry and everyone else would have been amazed at it\ +at any other time. "Uncle" himself twisted up the hare, threw it neatly\ +and smartly across his horse's back as if by that gesture he meant to\ +rebuke everybody, and, with an air of not wishing to speak to anyone,\ +mounted his bay and rode off. The others all followed, dispirited and\ +shamefaced, and only much later were they able to regain their former\ +affectation of indifference. For a long time they continued to look at\ +red Rugay who, his arched back spattered with mud and clanking the ring\ +of his leash, walked along just behind "Uncle's" horse with the serene\ +air of a conqueror.\ +\ +"Well, I am like any other dog as long as it's not a question of\ +coursing. But when it is, then look out!" his appearance seemed to\ +Nicholas to be saying.\ +\ +When, much later, "Uncle" rode up to Nicholas and began talking to him,\ +he felt flattered that, after what had happened, "Uncle" deigned to\ +speak to him.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER VII\ +\ +Toward evening Ilagin took leave of Nicholas, who found that they were\ +so far from home that he accepted "Uncle's" offer that the hunting party\ +should spend the night in his little village of Mikhaylovna.\ +\ +"And if you put up at my house that will be better still. That's it,\ +come on!" said "Uncle." "You see it's damp weather, and you could rest,\ +and the little countess could be driven home in a trap."\ +\ +"Uncle's" offer was accepted. A huntsman was sent to Otradnoe for a\ +trap, while Nicholas rode with Natasha and Petya to "Uncle's" house.\ +\ +Some five male domestic serfs, big and little, rushed out to the front\ +porch to meet their master. A score of women serfs, old and young, as\ +well as children, popped out from the back entrance to have a look at\ +the hunters who were arriving. The presence of Natasha--a woman, a lady,\ +and on horseback--raised the curiosity of the serfs to such a degree\ +that many of them came up to her, stared her in the face, and unabashed\ +by her presence made remarks about her as though she were some prodigy\ +on show and not a human being able to hear or understand what was said\ +about her.\ +\ +"Arinka! Look, she sits sideways! There she sits and her skirt\ +dangles.... See, she's got a little hunting horn!"\ +\ +"Goodness gracious! See her knife?..."\ +\ +"Isn't she a Tartar!"\ +\ +"How is it you didn't go head over heels?" asked the boldest of all,\ +addressing Natasha directly.\ +\ +"Uncle" dismounted at the porch of his little wooden house which stood\ +in the midst of an overgrown garden and, after a glance at his\ +retainers, shouted authoritatively that the superfluous ones should take\ +themselves off and that all necessary preparations should be made to\ +receive the guests and the visitors.\ +\ +The serfs all dispersed. "Uncle" lifted Natasha off her horse and taking\ +her hand led her up the rickety wooden steps of the porch. The house,\ +with its bare, unplastered log walls, was not overclean--it did not seem\ +that those living in it aimed at keeping it spotless--but neither was it\ +noticeably neglected. In the entry there was a smell of fresh apples,\ +and wolf and fox skins hung about.\ +\ +"Uncle" led the visitors through the anteroom into a small hall with a\ +folding table and red chairs, then into the drawing room with a round\ +birchwood table and a sofa, and finally into his private room where\ +there was a tattered sofa, a worn carpet, and portraits of Suvorov, of\ +the host's father and mother, and of himself in military uniform. The\ +study smelt strongly of tobacco and dogs. "Uncle" asked his visitors to\ +sit down and make themselves at home, and then went out of the room.\ +Rugay, his back still muddy, came into the room and lay down on the\ +sofa, cleaning himself with his tongue and teeth. Leading from the study\ +was a passage in which a partition with ragged curtains could be seen.\ +From behind this came women's laughter and whispers. Natasha, Nicholas,\ +and Petya took off their wraps and sat down on the sofa. Petya, leaning\ +on his elbow, fell asleep at once. Natasha and Nicholas were silent.\ +Their faces glowed, they were hungry and very cheerful. They looked at\ +one another (now that the hunt was over and they were in the house,\ +Nicholas no longer considered it necessary to show his manly superiority\ +over his sister), Natasha gave him a wink, and neither refrained long\ +from bursting into a peal of ringing laughter even before they had a\ +pretext ready to account for it.\ +\ +After a while "Uncle" came in, in a Cossack coat, blue trousers, and\ +small top boots. And Natasha felt that this costume, the very one she\ +had regarded with surprise and amusement at Otradnoe, was just the right\ +thing and not at all worse than a swallow-tail or frock coat. "Uncle"\ +too was in high spirits and far from being offended by the brother's and\ +sister's laughter (it could never enter his head that they might be\ +laughing at his way of life) he himself joined in the merriment.\ +\ +"That's right, young countess, that's it, come on! I never saw anyone\ +like her!" said he, offering Nicholas a pipe with a long stem and, with\ +a practiced motion of three fingers, taking down another that had been\ +cut short. "She's ridden all day like a man, and is as fresh as ever!"\ +\ +Soon after "Uncle's" reappearance the door was opened, evidently from\ +the sound by a barefooted girl, and a stout, rosy, good-looking woman of\ +about forty, with a double chin and full red lips, entered carrying a\ +large loaded tray. With hospitable dignity and cordiality in her glance\ +and in every motion, she looked at the visitors and, with a pleasant\ +smile, bowed respectfully. In spite of her exceptional stoutness, which\ +caused her to protrude her chest and stomach and throw back her head,\ +this woman (who was "Uncle's" housekeeper) trod very lightly. She went\ +to the table, set down the tray, and with her plump white hands deftly\ +took from it the bottles and various hors d'oeuvres and dishes and\ +arranged them on the table. When she had finished, she stepped aside and\ +stopped at the door with a smile on her face. "Here I am. I am she! Now\ +do you understand 'Uncle'?" her expression said to Rostov. How could one\ +help understanding? Not only Nicholas, but even Natasha understood the\ +meaning of his puckered brow and the happy complacent smile that\ +slightly puckered his lips when Anisya Fedorovna entered. On the tray\ +was a bottle of herb wine, different kinds of vodka, pickled mushrooms,\ +rye cakes made with buttermilk, honey in the comb, still mead and\ +sparkling mead, apples, nuts (raw and roasted), and nut-and-honey\ +sweets. Afterwards she brought a freshly roasted chicken, ham, preserves\ +made with honey, and preserves made with sugar.\ +\ +All this was the fruit of Anisya Fedorovna's housekeeping, gathered and\ +prepared by her. The smell and taste of it all had a smack of Anisya\ +Fedorovna herself: a savor of juiciness, cleanliness, whiteness, and\ +pleasant smiles.\ +\ +"Take this, little Lady-Countess!" she kept saying, as she offered\ +Natasha first one thing and then another.\ +\ +Natasha ate of everything and thought she had never seen or eaten such\ +buttermilk cakes, such aromatic jam, such honey-and-nut sweets, or such\ +a chicken anywhere. Anisya Fedorovna left the room.\ +\ +After supper, over their cherry brandy, Rostov and "Uncle" talked of\ +past and future hunts, of Rugay and Ilagin's dogs, while Natasha sat\ +upright on the sofa and listened with sparkling eyes. She tried several\ +times to wake Petya that he might eat something, but he only muttered\ +incoherent words without waking up. Natasha felt so lighthearted and\ +happy in these novel surroundings that she only feared the trap would\ +come for her too soon. After a casual pause, such as often occurs when\ +receiving friends for the first time in one's own house, "Uncle,"\ +answering a thought that was in his visitors' minds, said:\ +\ +"This, you see, is how I am finishing my days... Death will come. That's\ +it, come on! Nothing will remain. Then why harm anyone?"\ +\ +"Uncle's" face was very significant and even handsome as he said this.\ +Involuntarily Rostov recalled all the good he had heard about him from\ +his father and the neighbors. Throughout the whole province "Uncle" had\ +the reputation of being the most honorable and disinterested of cranks.\ +They called him in to decide family disputes, chose him as executor,\ +confided secrets to him, elected him to be a justice and to other posts;\ +but he always persistently refused public appointments, passing the\ +autumn and spring in the fields on his bay gelding, sitting at home in\ +winter, and lying in his overgrown garden in summer.\ +\ +"Why don't you enter the service, Uncle?"\ +\ +"I did once, but gave it up. I am not fit for it. That's it, come on! I\ +can't make head or tail of it. That's for you--I haven't brains enough.\ +Now, hunting is another matter--that's it, come on! Open the door,\ +there!" he shouted. "Why have you shut it?"\ +\ +The door at the end of the passage led to the huntsmen's room, as they\ +called the room for the hunt servants.\ +\ +There was a rapid patter of bare feet, and an unseen hand opened the\ +door into the huntsmen's room, from which came the clear sounds of a\ +balalayka on which someone, who was evidently a master of the art, was\ +playing. Natasha had been listening to those strains for some time and\ +now went out into the passage to hear better.\ +\ +"That's Mitka, my coachman.... I have got him a good balalayka. I'm fond\ +of it," said "Uncle."\ +\ +It was the custom for Mitka to play the balalayka in the huntsmen's room\ +when "Uncle" returned from the chase. "Uncle" was fond of such music.\ +\ +"How good! Really very good!" said Nicholas with some unintentional\ +superciliousness, as if ashamed to confess that the sounds pleased him\ +very much.\ +\ +"Very good?" said Natasha reproachfully, noticing her brother's tone.\ +"Not 'very good' it's simply delicious!"\ +\ +Just as "Uncle's" pickled mushrooms, honey, and cherry brandy had seemed\ +to her the best in the world, so also that song, at that moment, seemed\ +to her the acme of musical delight.\ +\ +"More, please, more!" cried Natasha at the door as soon as the balalayka\ +ceased. Mitka tuned up afresh, and recommenced thrumming the balalayka\ +to the air of My Lady, with trills and variations. "Uncle" sat\ +listening, slightly smiling, with his head on one side. The air was\ +repeated a hundred times. The balalayka was retuned several times and\ +the same notes were thrummed again, but the listeners did not grow weary\ +of it and wished to hear it again and again. Anisya Fedorovna came in\ +and leaned her portly person against the doorpost.\ +\ +"You like listening?" she said to Natasha, with a smile extremely like\ +"Uncle's." "That's a good player of ours," she added.\ +\ +"He doesn't play that part right!" said "Uncle" suddenly, with an\ +energetic gesture. "Here he ought to burst out--that's it, come on!--\ +ought to burst out."\ +\ +"Do you play then?" asked Natasha.\ +\ +"Uncle" did not answer, but smiled.\ +\ +"Anisya, go and see if the strings of my guitar are all right. I haven't\ +touched it for a long time. That's it--come on! I've given it up."\ +\ +Anisya Fedorovna, with her light step, willingly went to fulfill her\ +errand and brought back the guitar.\ +\ +Without looking at anyone, "Uncle" blew the dust off it and, tapping the\ +case with his bony fingers, tuned the guitar and settled himself in his\ +armchair. He took the guitar a little above the fingerboard, arching his\ +left elbow with a somewhat theatrical gesture, and, with a wink at\ +Anisya Fedorovna, struck a single chord, pure and sonorous, and then\ +quietly, smoothly, and confidently began playing in very slow time, not\ +My Lady, but the well-known song: Came a maiden down the street. The\ +tune, played with precision and in exact time, began to thrill in the\ +hearts of Nicholas and Natasha, arousing in them the same kind of sober\ +mirth as radiated from Anisya Fedorovna's whole being. Anisya Fedorovna\ +flushed, and drawing her kerchief over her face went laughing out of the\ +room. "Uncle" continued to play correctly, carefully, with energetic\ +firmness, looking with a changed and inspired expression at the spot\ +where Anisya Fedorovna had just stood. Something seemed to be laughing a\ +little on one side of his face under his gray mustaches, especially as\ +the song grew brisker and the time quicker and when, here and there, as\ +he ran his fingers over the strings, something seemed to snap.\ +\ +"Lovely, lovely! Go on, Uncle, go on!" shouted Natasha as soon as he had\ +finished. She jumped up and hugged and kissed him. "Nicholas, Nicholas!"\ +she said, turning to her brother, as if asking him: "What is it moves me\ +so?"\ +\ +Nicholas too was greatly pleased by "Uncle's" playing, and "Uncle"\ +played the piece over again. Anisya Fedorovna's smiling face reappeared\ +in the doorway and behind hers other faces...\ +\ +\ +Fetching water clear and sweet, Stop, dear maiden, I entreat--\ +\ +played "Uncle" once more, running his fingers skillfully over the\ +strings, and then he stopped short and jerked his shoulders.\ +\ +"Go on, Uncle dear," Natasha wailed in an imploring tone as if her life\ +depended on it.\ +\ +"Uncle" rose, and it was as if there were two men in him: one of them\ +smiled seriously at the merry fellow, while the merry fellow struck a\ +naive and precise attitude preparatory to a folk dance.\ +\ +"Now then, niece!" he exclaimed, waving to Natasha the hand that had\ +just struck a chord.\ +\ +Natasha threw off the shawl from her shoulders, ran forward to face\ +"Uncle," and setting her arms akimbo also made a motion with her\ +shoulders and struck an attitude.\ +\ +Where, how, and when had this young countess, educated by an emigree\ +French governess, imbibed from the Russian air she breathed that spirit\ +and obtained that manner which the pas de chale * would, one would have\ +supposed, long ago have effaced? But the spirit and the movements were\ +those inimitable and unteachable Russian ones that "Uncle" had expected\ +of her. As soon as she had struck her pose, and smiled triumphantly,\ +proudly, and with sly merriment, the fear that had at first seized\ +Nicholas and the others that she might not do the right thing was at an\ +end, and they were already admiring her.\ +\ +\ +* The French shawl dance.\ +\ +She did the right thing with such precision, such complete precision,\ +that Anisya Fedorovna, who had at once handed her the handkerchief she\ +needed for the dance, had tears in her eyes, though she laughed as she\ +watched this slim, graceful countess, reared in silks and velvets and so\ +different from herself, who yet was able to understand all that was in\ +Anisya and in Anisya's father and mother and aunt, and in every Russian\ +man and woman.\ +\ +"Well, little countess; that's it--come on!" cried "Uncle," with a\ +joyous laugh, having finished the dance. "Well done, niece! Now a fine\ +young fellow must be found as husband for you. That's it--come on!"\ +\ +"He's chosen already," said Nicholas smiling.\ +\ +"Oh?" said "Uncle" in surprise, looking inquiringly at Natasha, who\ +nodded her head with a happy smile.\ +\ +"And such a one!" she said. But as soon as she had said it a new train\ +of thoughts and feelings arose in her. "What did Nicholas' smile mean\ +when he said 'chosen already'? Is he glad of it or not? It is as if he\ +thought my Bolkonski would not approve of or understand our gaiety. But\ +he would understand it all. Where is he now?" she thought, and her face\ +suddenly became serious. But this lasted only a second. "Don't dare to\ +think about it," she said to herself, and sat down again smilingly\ +beside "Uncle," begging him to play something more.\ +\ +"Uncle" played another song and a valse; then after a pause he cleared\ +his throat and sang his favorite hunting song:\ +\ +\ +As 'twas growing dark last night Fell the snow so soft and light...\ +\ +"Uncle" sang as peasants sing, with full and naive conviction that the\ +whole meaning of a song lies in the words and that the tune comes of\ +itself, and that apart from the words there is no tune, which exists\ +only to give measure to the words. As a result of this the unconsidered\ +tune, like the song of a bird, was extraordinarily good. Natasha was in\ +ecstasies over "Uncle's" singing. She resolved to give up learning the\ +harp and to play only the guitar. She asked "Uncle" for his guitar and\ +at once found the chords of the song.\ +\ +After nine o'clock two traps and three mounted men, who had been sent to\ +look for them, arrived to fetch Natasha and Petya. The count and\ +countess did not know where they were and were very anxious, said one of\ +the men.\ +\ +Petya was carried out like a log and laid in the larger of the two\ +traps. Natasha and Nicholas got into the other. "Uncle" wrapped Natasha\ +up warmly and took leave of her with quite a new tenderness. He\ +accompanied them on foot as far as the bridge that could not be crossed,\ +so that they had to go round by the ford, and he sent huntsmen to ride\ +in front with lanterns.\ +\ +"Good-bye, dear niece," his voice called out of the darkness--not the\ +voice Natasha had known previously, but the one that had sung As 'twas\ +growing dark last night.\ +\ +In the village through which they passed there were red lights and a\ +cheerful smell of smoke.\ +\ +"What a darling Uncle is!" said Natasha, when they had come out onto the\ +highroad.\ +\ +"Yes," returned Nicholas. "You're not cold?"\ +\ +"No. I'm quite, quite all right. I feel so comfortable!" answered\ +Natasha, almost perplexed by her feelings. They remained silent a long\ +while. The night was dark and damp. They could not see the horses, but\ +only heard them splashing through the unseen mud.\ +\ +What was passing in that receptive childlike soul that so eagerly caught\ +and assimilated all the diverse impressions of life? How did they all\ +find place in her? But she was very happy. As they were nearing home she\ +suddenly struck up the air of As 'twas growing dark last night--the tune\ +of which she had all the way been trying to get and had at last caught.\ +\ +"Got it?" said Nicholas.\ +\ +"What were you thinking about just now, Nicholas?" inquired Natasha.\ +\ +They were fond of asking one another that question.\ +\ +"I?" said Nicholas, trying to remember. "Well, you see, first I thought\ +that Rugay, the red hound, was like Uncle, and that if he were a man he\ +would always keep Uncle near him, if not for his riding, then for his\ +manner. What a good fellow Uncle is! Don't you think so?... Well, and\ +you?"\ +\ +"I? Wait a bit, wait.... Yes, first I thought that we are driving along\ +and imagining that we are going home, but that heaven knows where we are\ +really going in the darkness, and that we shall arrive and suddenly find\ +that we are not in Otradnoe, but in Fairyland. And then I thought... No,\ +nothing else."\ +\ +"I know, I expect you thought of him," said Nicholas, smiling as Natasha\ +knew by the sound of his voice.\ +\ +"No," said Natasha, though she had in reality been thinking about Prince\ +Andrew at the same time as of the rest, and of how he would have liked\ +"Uncle." "And then I was saying to myself all the way, 'How well Anisya\ +carried herself, how well!'" And Nicholas heard her spontaneous, happy,\ +ringing laughter. "And do you know," she suddenly said, "I know that I\ +shall never again be as happy and tranquil as I am now."\ +\ +"Rubbish, nonsense, humbug!" exclaimed Nicholas, and he thought: "How\ +charming this Natasha of mine is! I have no other friend like her and\ +never shall have. Why should she marry? We might always drive about\ +together!"\ +\ +"What a darling this Nicholas of mine is!" thought Natasha.\ +\ +"Ah, there are still lights in the drawing-room!" she said, pointing to\ +the windows of the house that gleamed invitingly in the moist velvety\ +darkness of the night.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER VIII\ +\ +Count Ilya Rostov had resigned the position of Marshal of the Nobility\ +because it involved him in too much expense, but still his affairs did\ +not improve. Natasha and Nicholas often noticed their parents conferring\ +together anxiously and privately and heard suggestions of selling the\ +fine ancestral Rostov house and estate near Moscow. It was not necessary\ +to entertain so freely as when the count had been Marshal, and life at\ +Otradnoe was quieter than in former years, but still the enormous house\ +and its lodges were full of people and more than twenty sat down to\ +table every day. These were all their own people who had settled down in\ +the house almost as members of the family, or persons who were, it\ +seemed, obliged to live in the count's house. Such were Dimmler the\ +musician and his wife, Vogel the dancing master and his family, Belova,\ +an old maiden lady, an inmate of the house, and many others such as\ +Petya's tutors, the girls' former governess, and other people who simply\ +found it preferable and more advantageous to live in the count's house\ +than at home. They had not as many visitors as before, but the old\ +habits of life without which the count and countess could not conceive\ +of existence remained unchanged. There was still the hunting\ +establishment which Nicholas had even enlarged, the same fifty horses\ +and fifteen grooms in the stables, the same expensive presents and\ +dinner parties to the whole district on name days; there were still the\ +count's games of whist and boston, at which--spreading out his cards so\ +that everybody could see them--he let himself be plundered of hundreds\ +of rubles every day by his neighbors, who looked upon an opportunity to\ +play a rubber with Count Rostov as a most profitable source of income.\ +\ +The count moved in his affairs as in a huge net, trying not to believe\ +that he was entangled but becoming more and more so at every step, and\ +feeling too feeble to break the meshes or to set to work carefully and\ +patiently to disentangle them. The countess, with her loving heart, felt\ +that her children were being ruined, that it was not the count's fault\ +for he could not help being what he was--that (though he tried to hide\ +it) he himself suffered from the consciousness of his own and his\ +children's ruin, and she tried to find means of remedying the position.\ +From her feminine point of view she could see only one solution, namely,\ +for Nicholas to marry a rich heiress. She felt this to be their last\ +hope and that if Nicholas refused the match she had found for him, she\ +would have to abandon the hope of ever getting matters right. This match\ +was with Julie Karagina, the daughter of excellent and virtuous parents,\ +a girl the Rostovs had known from childhood, and who had now become a\ +wealthy heiress through the death of the last of her brothers.\ +\ +The countess had written direct to Julie's mother in Moscow suggesting a\ +marriage between their children and had received a favorable answer from\ +her. Karagina had replied that for her part she was agreeable, and\ +everything depend on her daughter's inclination. She invited Nicholas to\ +come to Moscow.\ +\ +Several times the countess, with tears in her eyes, told her son that\ +now both her daughters were settled, her only wish was to see him\ +married. She said she could lie down in her grave peacefully if that\ +were accomplished. Then she told him that she knew of a splendid girl\ +and tried to discover what he thought about marriage.\ +\ +At other times she praised Julie to him and advised him to go to Moscow\ +during the holidays to amuse himself. Nicholas guessed what his mother's\ +remarks were leading to and during one of these conversations induced\ +her to speak quite frankly. She told him that her only hope of getting\ +their affairs disentangled now lay in his marrying Julie Karagina.\ +\ +"But, Mamma, suppose I loved a girl who has no fortune, would you expect\ +me to sacrifice my feelings and my honor for the sake of money?" he\ +asked his mother, not realizing the cruelty of his question and only\ +wishing to show his noble-mindedness.\ +\ +"No, you have not understood me," said his mother, not knowing how to\ +justify herself. "You have not understood me, Nikolenka. It is your\ +happiness I wish for," she added, feeling that she was telling an\ +untruth and was becoming entangled. She began to cry.\ +\ +"Mamma, don't cry! Only tell me that you wish it, and you know I will\ +give my life, anything, to put you at ease," said Nicholas. "I would\ +sacrifice anything for you--even my feelings."\ +\ +But the countess did not want the question put like that: she did not\ +want a sacrifice from her son, she herself wished to make a sacrifice\ +for him.\ +\ +"No, you have not understood me, don't let us talk about it," she\ +replied, wiping away her tears.\ +\ +"Maybe I do love a poor girl," said Nicholas to himself. "Am I to\ +sacrifice my feelings and my honor for money? I wonder how Mamma could\ +speak so to me. Because Sonya is poor I must not love her," he thought,\ +"must not respond to her faithful, devoted love? Yet I should certainly\ +be happier with her than with some doll-like Julie. I can always\ +sacrifice my feelings for my family's welfare," he said to himself, "but\ +I can't coerce my feelings. If I love Sonya, that feeling is for me\ +stronger and higher than all else."\ +\ +Nicholas did not go to Moscow, and the countess did not renew the\ +conversation with him about marriage. She saw with sorrow, and sometimes\ +with exasperation, symptoms of a growing attachment between her son and\ +the portionless Sonya. Though she blamed herself for it, she could not\ +refrain from grumbling at and worrying Sonya, often pulling her up\ +without reason, addressing her stiffly as "my dear," and using the\ +formal "you" instead of the intimate "thou" in speaking to her. The\ +kindhearted countess was the more vexed with Sonya because that poor,\ +dark-eyed niece of hers was so meek, so kind, so devotedly grateful to\ +her benefactors, and so faithfully, unchangingly, and unselfishly in\ +love with Nicholas, that there were no grounds for finding fault with\ +her.\ +\ +Nicholas was spending the last of his leave at home. A fourth letter had\ +come from Prince Andrew, from Rome, in which he wrote that he would have\ +been on his way back to Russia long ago had not his wound unexpectedly\ +reopened in the warm climate, which obliged him to defer his return till\ +the beginning of the new year. Natasha was still as much in love with\ +her betrothed, found the same comfort in that love, and was still as\ +ready to throw herself into all the pleasures of life as before; but at\ +the end of the fourth month of their separation she began to have fits\ +of depression which she could not master. She felt sorry for herself:\ +sorry that she was being wasted all this time and of no use to anyone--\ +while she felt herself so capable of loving and being loved.\ +\ +Things were not cheerful in the Rostovs' home.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER IX\ +\ +Christmas came and except for the ceremonial Mass, the solemn and\ +wearisome Christmas congratulations from neighbors and servants, and the\ +new dresses everyone put on, there were no special festivities, though\ +the calm frost of twenty degrees Reaumur, the dazzling sunshine by day,\ +and the starlight of the winter nights seemed to call for some special\ +celebration of the season.\ +\ +On the third day of Christmas week, after the midday dinner, all the\ +inmates of the house dispersed to various rooms. It was the dullest time\ +of the day. Nicholas, who had been visiting some neighbors that morning,\ +was asleep on the sitting-room sofa. The old count was resting in his\ +study. Sonya sat in the drawing room at the round table, copying a\ +design for embroidery. The countess was playing patience. Nastasya\ +Ivanovna the buffoon sat with a sad face at the window with two old\ +ladies. Natasha came into the room, went up to Sonya, glanced at what\ +she was doing, and then went up to her mother and stood without\ +speaking.\ +\ +"Why are you wandering about like an outcast?" asked her mother. "What\ +do you want?"\ +\ +"Him... I want him... now, this minute! I want him!" said Natasha, with\ +glittering eyes and no sign of a smile.\ +\ +The countess lifted her head and looked attentively at her daughter.\ +\ +"Don't look at me, Mamma! Don't look; I shall cry directly."\ +\ +"Sit down with me a little," said the countess.\ +\ +"Mamma, I want him. Why should I be wasted like this, Mamma?"\ +\ +Her voice broke, tears gushed from her eyes, and she turned quickly to\ +hide them and left the room.\ +\ +She passed into the sitting room, stood there thinking awhile, and then\ +went into the maids' room. There an old maidservant was grumbling at a\ +young girl who stood panting, having just run in through the cold from\ +the serfs' quarters.\ +\ +"Stop playing--there's a time for everything," said the old woman.\ +\ +"Let her alone, Kondratevna," said Natasha. "Go, Mavrushka, go."\ +\ +Having released Mavrushka, Natasha crossed the dancing hall and went to\ +the vestibule. There an old footman and two young ones were playing\ +cards. They broke off and rose as she entered.\ +\ +"What can I do with them?" thought Natasha.\ +\ +"Oh, Nikita, please go... where can I send him?... Yes, go to the yard\ +and fetch a fowl, please, a cock, and you, Misha, bring me some oats."\ +\ +"Just a few oats?" said Misha, cheerfully and readily.\ +\ +"Go, go quickly," the old man urged him.\ +\ +"And you, Theodore, get me a piece of chalk."\ +\ +On her way past the butler's pantry she told them to set a samovar,\ +though it was not at all the time for tea.\ +\ +Foka, the butler, was the most ill-tempered person in the house. Natasha\ +liked to test her power over him. He distrusted the order and asked\ +whether the samovar was really wanted.\ +\ +"Oh dear, what a young lady!" said Foka, pretending to frown at Natasha.\ +\ +No one in the house sent people about or gave them as much trouble as\ +Natasha did. She could not see people unconcernedly, but had to send\ +them on some errand. She seemed to be trying whether any of them would\ +get angry or sulky with her; but the serfs fulfilled no one's orders so\ +readily as they did hers. "What can I do, where can I go?" thought she,\ +as she went slowly along the passage.\ +\ +"Nastasya Ivanovna, what sort of children shall I have?" she asked the\ +buffoon, who was coming toward her in a woman's jacket.\ +\ +"Why, fleas, crickets, grasshoppers," answered the buffoon.\ +\ +"O Lord, O Lord, it's always the same! Oh, where am I to go? What am I\ +to do with myself?" And tapping with her heels, she ran quickly upstairs\ +to see Vogel and his wife who lived on the upper story.\ +\ +Two governesses were sitting with the Vogels at a table, on which were\ +plates of raisins, walnuts, and almonds. The governesses were discussing\ +whether it was cheaper to live in Moscow or Odessa. Natasha sat down,\ +listened to their talk with a serious and thoughtful air, and then got\ +up again.\ +\ +"The island of Madagascar," she said, "Ma-da-gas-car," she repeated,\ +articulating each syllable distinctly, and, not replying to Madame\ +Schoss who asked her what she was saying, she went out of the room.\ +\ +Her brother Petya was upstairs too; with the man in attendance on him he\ +was preparing fireworks to let off that night.\ +\ +"Petya! Petya!" she called to him. "Carry me downstairs."\ +\ +Petya ran up and offered her his back. She jumped on it, putting her\ +arms round his neck, and he pranced along with her.\ +\ +"No, don't... the island of Madagascar!" she said, and jumping off his\ +back she went downstairs.\ +\ +Having as it were reviewed her kingdom, tested her power, and made sure\ +that everyone was submissive, but that all the same it was dull, Natasha\ +betook herself to the ballroom, picked up her guitar, sat down in a dark\ +corner behind a bookcase, and began to run her fingers over the strings\ +in the bass, picking out a passage she recalled from an opera she had\ +heard in Petersburg with Prince Andrew. What she drew from the guitar\ +would have had no meaning for other listeners, but in her imagination a\ +whole series of reminiscences arose from those sounds. She sat behind\ +the bookcase with her eyes fixed on a streak of light escaping from the\ +pantry door and listened to herself and pondered. She was in a mood for\ +brooding on the past.\ +\ +Sonya passed to the pantry with a glass in her hand. Natasha glanced at\ +her and at the crack in the pantry door, and it seemed to her that she\ +remembered the light falling through that crack once before and Sonya\ +passing with a glass in her hand. "Yes it was exactly the same," thought\ +Natasha.\ +\ +"Sonya, what is this?" she cried, twanging a thick string.\ +\ +"Oh, you are there!" said Sonya with a start, and came near and\ +listened. "I don't know. A storm?" she ventured timidly, afraid of being\ +wrong.\ +\ +"There! That's just how she started and just how she came up smiling\ +timidly when all this happened before," thought Natasha, "and in just\ +the same way I thought there was something lacking in her."\ +\ +"No, it's the chorus from The Water-Carrier, listen!" and Natasha sang\ +the air of the chorus so that Sonya should catch it. "Where were you\ +going?" she asked.\ +\ +"To change the water in this glass. I am just finishing the design."\ +\ +"You always find something to do, but I can't," said Natasha. "And\ +where's Nicholas?"\ +\ +"Asleep, I think."\ +\ +"Sonya, go and wake him," said Natasha. "Tell him I want him to come and\ +sing."\ +\ +She sat awhile, wondering what the meaning of it all having happened\ +before could be, and without solving this problem, or at all regretting\ +not having done so, she again passed in fancy to the time when she was\ +with him and he was looking at her with a lover's eyes.\ +\ +"Oh, if only he would come quicker! I am so afraid it will never be!\ +And, worst of all, I am growing old--that's the thing! There won't then\ +be in me what there is now. But perhaps he'll come today, will come\ +immediately. Perhaps he has come and is sitting in the drawing room.\ +Perhaps he came yesterday and I have forgotten it." She rose, put down\ +the guitar, and went to the drawing room.\ +\ +All the domestic circle, tutors, governesses, and guests, were already\ +at the tea table. The servants stood round the table--but Prince Andrew\ +was not there and life was going on as before.\ +\ +"Ah, here she is!" said the old count, when he saw Natasha enter. "Well,\ +sit down by me." But Natasha stayed by her mother and glanced round as\ +if looking for something.\ +\ +"Mamma!" she muttered, "give him to me, give him, Mamma, quickly,\ +quickly!" and she again had difficulty in repressing her sobs.\ +\ +She sat down at the table and listened to the conversation between the\ +elders and Nicholas, who had also come to the table. "My God, my God!\ +The same faces, the same talk, Papa holding his cup and blowing in the\ +same way!" thought Natasha, feeling with horror a sense of repulsion\ +rising up in her for the whole household, because they were always the\ +same.\ +\ +After tea, Nicholas, Sonya, and Natasha went to the sitting room, to\ +their favorite corner where their most intimate talks always began.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER X\ +\ +"Does it ever happen to you," said Natasha to her brother, when they\ +settled down in the sitting room, "does it ever happen to you to feel as\ +if there were nothing more to come--nothing; that everything good is\ +past? And to feel not exactly dull, but sad?"\ +\ +"I should think so!" he replied. "I have felt like that when everything\ +was all right and everyone was cheerful. The thought has come into my\ +mind that I was already tired of it all, and that we must all die. Once\ +in the regiment I had not gone to some merrymaking where there was\ +music... and suddenly I felt so depressed..."\ +\ +"Oh yes, I know, I know, I know!" Natasha interrupted him. "When I was\ +quite little that used to be so with me. Do you remember when I was\ +punished once about some plums? You were all dancing, and I sat sobbing\ +in the schoolroom? I shall never forget it: I felt sad and sorry for\ +everyone, for myself, and for everyone. And I was innocent--that was the\ +chief thing," said Natasha. "Do you remember?"\ +\ +"I remember," answered Nicholas. "I remember that I came to you\ +afterwards and wanted to comfort you, but do you know, I felt ashamed\ +to. We were terribly absurd. I had a funny doll then and wanted to give\ +it to you. Do you remember?"\ +\ +"And do you remember," Natasha asked with a pensive smile, "how once,\ +long, long ago, when we were quite little, Uncle called us into the\ +study--that was in the old house--and it was dark--we went in and\ +suddenly there stood..."\ +\ +"A Negro," chimed in Nicholas with a smile of delight. "Of course I\ +remember. Even now I don't know whether there really was a Negro, or if\ +we only dreamed it or were told about him."\ +\ +"He was gray, you remember, and had white teeth, and stood and looked at\ +us..."\ +\ +"Sonya, do you remember?" asked Nicholas.\ +\ +"Yes, yes, I do remember something too," Sonya answered timidly.\ +\ +"You know I have asked Papa and Mamma about that Negro," said Natasha,\ +"and they say there was no Negro at all. But you see, you remember!"\ +\ +"Of course I do, I remember his teeth as if I had just seen them."\ +\ +"How strange it is! It's as if it were a dream! I like that."\ +\ +"And do you remember how we rolled hard-boiled eggs in the ballroom, and\ +suddenly two old women began spinning round on the carpet? Was that real\ +or not? Do you remember what fun it was?"\ +\ +"Yes, and you remember how Papa in his blue overcoat fired a gun in the\ +porch?"\ +\ +So they went through their memories, smiling with pleasure: not the sad\ +memories of old age, but poetic, youthful ones--those impressions of\ +one's most distant past in which dreams and realities blend--and they\ +laughed with quiet enjoyment.\ +\ +Sonya, as always, did not quite keep pace with them, though they shared\ +the same reminiscences.\ +\ +Much that they remembered had slipped from her mind, and what she\ +recalled did not arouse the same poetic feeling as they experienced. She\ +simply enjoyed their pleasure and tried to fit in with it.\ +\ +She only really took part when they recalled Sonya's first arrival. She\ +told them how afraid she had been of Nicholas because he had on a corded\ +jacket and her nurse had told her that she, too, would be sewn up with\ +cords.\ +\ +"And I remember their telling me that you had been born under a\ +cabbage," said Natasha, "and I remember that I dared not disbelieve it\ +then, but knew that it was not true, and I felt so uncomfortable."\ +\ +While they were talking a maid thrust her head in at the other door of\ +the sitting room.\ +\ +"They have brought the cock, Miss," she said in a whisper.\ +\ +"It isn't wanted, Petya. Tell them to take it away," replied Natasha.\ +\ +In the middle of their talk in the sitting room, Dimmler came in and\ +went up to the harp that stood there in a corner. He took off its cloth\ +covering, and the harp gave out a jarring sound.\ +\ +"Mr. Dimmler, please play my favorite nocturne by Field," came the old\ +countess' voice from the drawing room.\ +\ +Dimmler struck a chord and, turning to Natasha, Nicholas, and Sonya,\ +remarked: "How quiet you young people are!"\ +\ +"Yes, we're philosophizing," said Natasha, glancing round for a moment\ +and then continuing the conversation. They were now discussing dreams.\ +\ +Dimmler began to play; Natasha went on tiptoe noiselessly to the table,\ +took up a candle, carried it out, and returned, seating herself quietly\ +in her former place. It was dark in the room especially where they were\ +sitting on the sofa, but through the big windows the silvery light of\ +the full moon fell on the floor. Dimmler had finished the piece but\ +still sat softly running his fingers over the strings, evidently\ +uncertain whether to stop or to play something else.\ +\ +"Do you know," said Natasha in a whisper, moving closer to Nicholas and\ +Sonya, "that when one goes on and on recalling memories, one at last\ +begins to remember what happened before one was in the world..."\ +\ +"That is metempsychosis," said Sonya, who had always learned well, and\ +remembered everything. "The Egyptians believed that our souls have lived\ +in animals, and will go back into animals again."\ +\ +"No, I don't believe we ever were in animals," said Natasha, still in a\ +whisper though the music had ceased. "But I am certain that we were\ +angels somewhere there, and have been here, and that is why we\ +remember...."\ +\ +"May I join you?" said Dimmler who had come up quietly, and he sat down\ +by them.\ +\ +"If we have been angels, why have we fallen lower?" said Nicholas. "No,\ +that can't be!"\ +\ +"Not lower, who said we were lower?... How do I know what I was before?"\ +Natasha rejoined with conviction. "The soul is immortal--well then, if I\ +shall always live I must have lived before, lived for a whole eternity."\ +\ +"Yes, but it is hard for us to imagine eternity," remarked Dimmler, who\ +had joined the young folk with a mildly condescending smile but now\ +spoke as quietly and seriously as they.\ +\ +"Why is it hard to imagine eternity?" said Natasha. "It is now today,\ +and it will be tomorrow, and always; and there was yesterday, and the\ +day before..."\ +\ +"Natasha! Now it's your turn. Sing me something," they heard the\ +countess say. "Why are you sitting there like conspirators?"\ +\ +"Mamma, I don't at all want to," replied Natasha, but all the same she\ +rose.\ +\ +None of them, not even the middle-aged Dimmler, wanted to break off\ +their conversation and quit that corner in the sitting room, but Natasha\ +got up and Nicholas sat down at the clavichord. Standing as usual in the\ +middle of the hall and choosing the place where the resonance was best,\ +Natasha began to sing her mother's favorite song.\ +\ +She had said she did not want to sing, but it was long since she had\ +sung, and long before she again sang, as she did that evening. The\ +count, from his study where he was talking to Mitenka, heard her and,\ +like a schoolboy in a hurry to run out to play, blundered in his talk\ +while giving orders to the steward, and at last stopped, while Mitenka\ +stood in front of him also listening and smiling. Nicholas did not take\ +his eyes off his sister and drew breath in time with her. Sonya, as she\ +listened, thought of the immense difference there was between herself\ +and her friend, and how impossible it was for her to be anything like as\ +bewitching as her cousin. The old countess sat with a blissful yet sad\ +smile and with tears in her eyes, occasionally shaking her head. She\ +thought of Natasha and of her own youth, and of how there was something\ +unnatural and dreadful in this impending marriage of Natasha and Prince\ +Andrew.\ +\ +Dimmler, who had seated himself beside the countess, listened with\ +closed eyes.\ +\ +"Ah, Countess," he said at last, "that's a European talent, she has\ +nothing to learn--what softness, tenderness, and strength...."\ +\ +"Ah, how afraid I am for her, how afraid I am!" said the countess, not\ +realizing to whom she was speaking. Her maternal instinct told her that\ +Natasha had too much of something, and that because of this she would\ +not be happy. Before Natasha had finished singing, fourteen-year-old\ +Petya rushed in delightedly, to say that some mummers had arrived.\ +\ +Natasha stopped abruptly.\ +\ +"Idiot!" she screamed at her brother and, running to a chair, threw\ +herself on it, sobbing so violently that she could not stop for a long\ +time.\ +\ +"It's nothing, Mamma, really it's nothing; only Petya startled me," she\ +said, trying to smile, but her tears still flowed and sobs still choked\ +her.\ +\ +The mummers (some of the house serfs) dressed up as bears, Turks,\ +innkeepers, and ladies--frightening and funny--bringing in with them the\ +cold from outside and a feeling of gaiety, crowded, at first timidly,\ +into the anteroom, then hiding behind one another they pushed into the\ +ballroom where, shyly at first and then more and more merrily and\ +heartily, they started singing, dancing, and playing Christmas games.\ +The countess, when she had identified them and laughed at their\ +costumes, went into the drawing room. The count sat in the ballroom,\ +smiling radiantly and applauding the players. The young people had\ +disappeared.\ +\ +Half an hour later there appeared among the other mummers in the\ +ballroom an old lady in a hooped skirt--this was Nicholas. A Turkish\ +girl was Petya. A clown was Dimmler. An hussar was Natasha, and a\ +Circassian was Sonya with burnt-cork mustache and eyebrows.\ +\ +After the condescending surprise, nonrecognition, and praise, from those\ +who were not themselves dressed up, the young people decided that their\ +costumes were so good that they ought to be shown elsewhere.\ +\ +Nicholas, who, as the roads were in splendid condition, wanted to take\ +them all for a drive in his troyka, proposed to take with them about a\ +dozen of the serf mummers and drive to "Uncle's."\ +\ +"No, why disturb the old fellow?" said the countess. "Besides, you\ +wouldn't have room to turn round there. If you must go, go to the\ +Melyukovs'."\ +\ +Melyukova was a widow, who, with her family and their tutors and\ +governesses, lived three miles from the Rostovs.\ +\ +"That's right, my dear," chimed in the old count, thoroughly aroused.\ +"I'll dress up at once and go with them. I'll make Pashette open her\ +eyes."\ +\ +But the countess would not agree to his going; he had had a bad leg all\ +these last days. It was decided that the count must not go, but that if\ +Louisa Ivanovna (Madame Schoss) would go with them, the young ladies\ +might go to the Melyukovs', Sonya, generally so timid and shy, more\ +urgently than anyone begging Louisa Ivanovna not to refuse.\ +\ +Sonya's costume was the best of all. Her mustache and eyebrows were\ +extraordinarily becoming. Everyone told her she looked very handsome,\ +and she was in a spirited and energetic mood unusual with her. Some\ +inner voice told her that now or never her fate would be decided, and in\ +her male attire she seemed quite a different person. Louisa Ivanovna\ +consented to go, and in half an hour four troyka sleighs with large and\ +small bells, their runners squeaking and whistling over the frozen snow,\ +drove up to the porch.\ +\ +Natasha was foremost in setting a merry holiday tone, which, passing\ +from one to another, grew stronger and reached its climax when they all\ +came out into the frost and got into the sleighs, talking, calling to\ +one another, laughing, and shouting.\ +\ +Two of the troykas were the usual household sleighs, the third was the\ +old count's with a trotter from the Orlov stud as shaft horse, the\ +fourth was Nicholas' own with a short shaggy black shaft horse.\ +Nicholas, in his old lady's dress over which he had belted his hussar\ +overcoat, stood in the middle of the sleigh, reins in hand.\ +\ +It was so light that he could see the moonlight reflected from the metal\ +harness disks and from the eyes of the horses, who looked round in alarm\ +at the noisy party under the shadow of the porch roof.\ +\ +Natasha, Sonya, Madame Schoss, and two maids got into Nicholas' sleigh;\ +Dimmler, his wife, and Petya, into the old count's, and the rest of the\ +mummers seated themselves in the other two sleighs.\ +\ +"You go ahead, Zakhar!" shouted Nicholas to his father's coachman,\ +wishing for a chance to race past him.\ +\ +The old count's troyka, with Dimmler and his party, started forward,\ +squeaking on its runners as though freezing to the snow, its deep-toned\ +bell clanging. The side horses, pressing against the shafts of the\ +middle horse, sank in the snow, which was dry and glittered like sugar,\ +and threw it up.\ +\ +Nicholas set off, following the first sleigh; behind him the others\ +moved noisily, their runners squeaking. At first they drove at a steady\ +trot along the narrow road. While they drove past the garden the shadows\ +of the bare trees often fell across the road and hid the brilliant\ +moonlight, but as soon as they were past the fence, the snowy plain\ +bathed in moonlight and motionless spread out before them glittering\ +like diamonds and dappled with bluish shadows. Bang, bang! went the\ +first sleigh over a cradle hole in the snow of the road, and each of the\ +other sleighs jolted in the same way, and rudely breaking the frost-\ +bound stillness, the troykas began to speed along the road, one after\ +the other.\ +\ +"A hare's track, a lot of tracks!" rang out Natasha's voice through the\ +frost-bound air.\ +\ +"How light it is, Nicholas!" came Sonya's voice.\ +\ +Nicholas glanced round at Sonya, and bent down to see her face closer.\ +Quite a new, sweet face with black eyebrows and mustaches peeped up at\ +him from her sable furs--so close and yet so distant--in the moonlight.\ +\ +"That used to be Sonya," thought he, and looked at her closer and\ +smiled.\ +\ +"What is it, Nicholas?"\ +\ +"Nothing," said he and turned again to the horses.\ +\ +When they came out onto the beaten highroad--polished by sleigh runners\ +and cut up by rough-shod hoofs, the marks of which were visible in the\ +moonlight--the horses began to tug at the reins of their own accord and\ +increased their pace. The near side horse, arching his head and breaking\ +into a short canter, tugged at his traces. The shaft horse swayed from\ +side to side, moving his ears as if asking: "Isn't it time to begin\ +now?" In front, already far ahead the deep bell of the sleigh ringing\ +farther and farther off, the black horses driven by Zakhar could be\ +clearly seen against the white snow. From that sleigh one could hear the\ +shouts, laughter, and voices of the mummers.\ +\ +"Gee up, my darlings!" shouted Nicholas, pulling the reins to one side\ +and flourishing the whip.\ +\ +It was only by the keener wind that met them and the jerks given by the\ +side horses who pulled harder--ever increasing their gallop--that one\ +noticed how fast the troyka was flying. Nicholas looked back. With\ +screams squeals, and waving of whips that caused even the shaft horses\ +to gallop--the other sleighs followed. The shaft horse swung steadily\ +beneath the bow over its head, with no thought of slackening pace and\ +ready to put on speed when required.\ +\ +Nicholas overtook the first sleigh. They were driving downhill and\ +coming out upon a broad trodden track across a meadow, near a river.\ +\ +"Where are we?" thought he. "It's the Kosoy meadow, I suppose. But no--\ +this is something new I've never seen before. This isn't the Kosoy\ +meadow nor the Demkin hill, and heaven only knows what it is! It is\ +something new and enchanted. Well, whatever it may be..." And shouting\ +to his horses, he began to pass the first sleigh.\ +\ +Zakhar held back his horses and turned his face, which was already\ +covered with hoarfrost to his eyebrows.\ +\ +Nicholas gave the horses the rein, and Zakhar, stretching out his arms,\ +clucked his tongue and let his horses go.\ +\ +"Now, look out, master!" he cried.\ +\ +Faster still the two troykas flew side by side, and faster moved the\ +feet of the galloping side horses. Nicholas began to draw ahead. Zakhar,\ +while still keeping his arms extended, raised one hand with the reins.\ +\ +"No you won't, master!" he shouted.\ +\ +Nicholas put all his horses to a gallop and passed Zakhar. The horses\ +showered the fine dry snow on the faces of those in the sleigh--beside\ +them sounded quick ringing bells and they caught confused glimpses of\ +swiftly moving legs and the shadows of the troyka they were passing. The\ +whistling sound of the runners on the snow and the voices of girls\ +shrieking were heard from different sides.\ +\ +Again checking his horses, Nicholas looked around him. They were still\ +surrounded by the magic plain bathed in moonlight and spangled with\ +stars.\ +\ +"Zakhar is shouting that I should turn to the left, but why to the\ +left?" thought Nicholas. "Are we getting to the Melyukovs'? Is this\ +Melyukovka? Heaven only knows where we are going, and heaven knows what\ +is happening to us--but it is very strange and pleasant whatever it is."\ +And he looked round in the sleigh.\ +\ +"Look, his mustache and eyelashes are all white!" said one of the\ +strange, pretty, unfamiliar people--the one with fine eyebrows and\ +mustache.\ +\ +"I think this used to be Natasha," thought Nicholas, "and that was\ +Madame Schoss, but perhaps it's not, and this Circassian with the\ +mustache I don't know, but I love her."\ +\ +"Aren't you cold?" he asked.\ +\ +They did not answer but began to laugh. Dimmler from the sleigh behind\ +shouted something--probably something funny--but they could not make out\ +what he said.\ +\ +"Yes, yes!" some voices answered, laughing.\ +\ +"But here was a fairy forest with black moving shadows, and a glitter of\ +diamonds and a flight of marble steps and the silver roofs of fairy\ +buildings and the shrill yells of some animals. And if this is really\ +Melyukovka, it is still stranger that we drove heaven knows where and\ +have come to Melyukovka," thought Nicholas.\ +\ +It really was Melyukovka, and maids and footmen with merry faces came\ +running, out to the porch carrying candles.\ +\ +"Who is it?" asked someone in the porch.\ +\ +"The mummers from the count's. I know by the horses," replied some\ +voices.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XI\ +\ +Pelageya Danilovna Melyukova, a broadly built, energetic woman wearing\ +spectacles, sat in the drawing room in a loose dress, surrounded by her\ +daughters whom she was trying to keep from feeling dull. They were\ +quietly dropping melted wax into snow and looking at the shadows the wax\ +figures would throw on the wall, when they heard the steps and voices of\ +new arrivals in the vestibule.\ +\ +Hussars, ladies, witches, clowns, and bears, after clearing their\ +throats and wiping the hoarfrost from their faces in the vestibule, came\ +into the ballroom where candles were hurriedly lighted. The clown--\ +Dimmler--and the lady--Nicholas--started a dance. Surrounded by the\ +screaming children the mummers, covering their faces and disguising\ +their voices, bowed to their hostess and arranged themselves about the\ +room.\ +\ +"Dear me! there's no recognizing them! And Natasha! See whom she looks\ +like! She really reminds me of somebody. But Herr Dimmler--isn't he\ +good! I didn't know him! And how he dances. Dear me, there's a\ +Circassian. Really, how becoming it is to dear Sonya. And who is that?\ +Well, you have cheered us up! Nikita and Vanya--clear away the tables!\ +And we were sitting so quietly. Ha, ha, ha!... The hussar, the hussar!\ +Just like a boy! And the legs!... I can't look at him..." different\ +voices were saying.\ +\ +Natasha, the young Melyukovs' favorite, disappeared with them into the\ +back rooms where a cork and various dressing gowns and male garments\ +were called for and received from the footman by bare girlish arms from\ +behind the door. Ten minutes later, all the young Melyukovs joined the\ +mummers.\ +\ +Pelageya Danilovna, having given orders to clear the rooms for the\ +visitors and arranged about refreshments for the gentry and the serfs,\ +went about among the mummers without removing her spectacles, peering\ +into their faces with a suppressed smile and failing to recognize any of\ +them. It was not merely Dimmler and the Rostovs she failed to recognize,\ +she did not even recognize her own daughters, or her late husband's,\ +dressing gowns and uniforms, which they had put on.\ +\ +"And who is this?" she asked her governess, peering into the face of her\ +own daughter dressed up as a Kazan-Tartar. "I suppose it is one of the\ +Rostovs! Well, Mr. Hussar, and what regiment do you serve in?" she asked\ +Natasha. "Here, hand some fruit jelly to the Turk!" she ordered the\ +butler who was handing things round. "That's not forbidden by his law."\ +\ +Sometimes, as she looked at the strange but amusing capers cut by the\ +dancers, who--having decided once for all that being disguised, no one\ +would recognize them--were not at all shy, Pelageya Danilovna hid her\ +face in her handkerchief, and her whole stout body shook with\ +irrepressible, kindly, elderly laughter.\ +\ +"My little Sasha! Look at Sasha!" she said.\ +\ +After Russian country dances and chorus dances, Pelageya Danilovna made\ +the serfs and gentry join in one large circle: a ring, a string, and a\ +silver ruble were fetched and they all played games together.\ +\ +In an hour, all the costumes were crumpled and disordered. The corked\ +eyebrows and mustaches were smeared over the perspiring, flushed, and\ +merry faces. Pelageya Danilovna began to recognize the mummers, admired\ +their cleverly contrived costumes, and particularly how they suited the\ +young ladies, and she thanked them all for having entertained her so\ +well. The visitors were invited to supper in the drawing room, and the\ +serfs had something served to them in the ballroom.\ +\ +"Now to tell one's fortune in the empty bathhouse is frightening!" said\ +an old maid who lived with the Melyukovs, during supper.\ +\ +"Why?" said the eldest Melyukov girl.\ +\ +"You wouldn't go, it takes courage..."\ +\ +"I'll go," said Sonya.\ +\ +"Tell what happened to the young lady!" said the second Melyukov girl.\ +\ +"Well," began the old maid, "a young lady once went out, took a cock,\ +laid the table for two, all properly, and sat down. After sitting a\ +while, she suddenly hears someone coming... a sleigh drives up with\ +harness bells; she hears him coming! He comes in, just in the shape of a\ +man, like an officer--comes in and sits down to table with her."\ +\ +"Ah! ah!" screamed Natasha, rolling her eyes with horror.\ +\ +"Yes? And how... did he speak?"\ +\ +"Yes, like a man. Everything quite all right, and he began persuading\ +her; and she should have kept him talking till cockcrow, but she got\ +frightened, just got frightened and hid her face in her hands. Then he\ +caught her up. It was lucky the maids ran in just then..."\ +\ +"Now, why frighten them?" said Pelageya Danilovna.\ +\ +"Mamma, you used to try your fate yourself..." said her daughter.\ +\ +"And how does one do it in a barn?" inquired Sonya.\ +\ +"Well, say you went to the barn now, and listened. It depends on what\ +you hear; hammering and knocking--that's bad; but a sound of shifting\ +grain is good and one sometimes hears that, too."\ +\ +"Mamma, tell us what happened to you in the barn."\ +\ +Pelageya Danilovna smiled.\ +\ +"Oh, I've forgotten..." she replied. "But none of you would go?"\ +\ +"Yes, I will; Pelageya Danilovna, let me! I'll go," said Sonya.\ +\ +"Well, why not, if you're not afraid?"\ +\ +"Louisa Ivanovna, may I?" asked Sonya.\ +\ +Whether they were playing the ring and string game or the ruble game or\ +talking as now, Nicholas did not leave Sonya's side, and gazed at her\ +with quite new eyes. It seemed to him that it was only today, thanks to\ +that burnt-cork mustache, that he had fully learned to know her. And\ +really, that evening, Sonya was brighter, more animated, and prettier\ +than Nicholas had ever seen her before.\ +\ +"So that's what she is like; what a fool I have been!" he thought gazing\ +at her sparkling eyes, and under the mustache a happy rapturous smile\ +dimpled her cheeks, a smile he had never seen before.\ +\ +"I'm not afraid of anything," said Sonya. "May I go at once?" She got\ +up.\ +\ +They told her where the barn was and how she should stand and listen,\ +and they handed her a fur cloak. She threw this over her head and\ +shoulders and glanced at Nicholas.\ +\ +"What a darling that girl is!" thought he. "And what have I been\ +thinking of till now?"\ +\ +Sonya went out into the passage to go to the barn. Nicholas went hastily\ +to the front porch, saying he felt too hot. The crowd of people really\ +had made the house stuffy.\ +\ +Outside, there was the same cold stillness and the same moon, but even\ +brighter than before. The light was so strong and the snow sparkled with\ +so many stars that one did not wish to look up at the sky and the real\ +stars were unnoticed. The sky was black and dreary, while the earth was\ +gay.\ +\ +"I am a fool, a fool! what have I been waiting for?" thought Nicholas,\ +and running out from the porch he went round the corner of the house and\ +along the path that led to the back porch. He knew Sonya would pass that\ +way. Halfway lay some snow-covered piles of firewood and across and\ +along them a network of shadows from the bare old lime trees fell on the\ +snow and on the path. This path led to the barn. The log walls of the\ +barn and its snow-covered roof, that looked as if hewn out of some\ +precious stone, sparkled in the moonlight. A tree in the garden snapped\ +with the frost, and then all was again perfectly silent. His bosom\ +seemed to inhale not air but the strength of eternal youth and gladness.\ +\ +From the back porch came the sound of feet descending the steps, the\ +bottom step upon which snow had fallen gave a ringing creak and he heard\ +the voice of an old maidservant saying, "Straight, straight, along the\ +path, Miss. Only, don't look back."\ +\ +"I am not afraid," answered Sonya's voice, and along the path toward\ +Nicholas came the crunching, whistling sound of Sonya's feet in her thin\ +shoes.\ +\ +Sonya came along, wrapped in her cloak. She was only a couple of paces\ +away when she saw him, and to her too he was not the Nicholas she had\ +known and always slightly feared. He was in a woman's dress, with\ +tousled hair and a happy smile new to Sonya. She ran rapidly toward him.\ +\ +"Quite different and yet the same," thought Nicholas, looking at her\ +face all lit up by the moonlight. He slipped his arms under the cloak\ +that covered her head, embraced her, pressed her to him, and kissed her\ +on the lips that wore a mustache and had a smell of burnt cork. Sonya\ +kissed him full on the lips, and disengaging her little hands pressed\ +them to his cheeks.\ +\ +"Sonya!... Nicholas!"... was all they said. They ran to the barn and\ +then back again, re-entering, he by the front and she by the back porch.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XII\ +\ +When they all drove back from Pelageya Danilovna's, Natasha, who always\ +saw and noticed everything, arranged that she and Madame Schoss should\ +go back in the sleigh with Dimmler, and Sonya with Nicholas and the\ +maids.\ +\ +On the way back Nicholas drove at a steady pace instead of racing and\ +kept peering by that fantastic all-transforming light into Sonya's face\ +and searching beneath the eyebrows and mustache for his former and his\ +present Sonya from whom he had resolved never to be parted again. He\ +looked and recognizing in her both the old and the new Sonya, and being\ +reminded by the smell of burnt cork of the sensation of her kiss,\ +inhaled the frosty air with a full breast and, looking at the ground\ +flying beneath him and at the sparkling sky, felt himself again in\ +fairyland.\ +\ +"Sonya, is it well with thee?" he asked from time to time.\ +\ +"Yes!" she replied. "And with thee?"\ +\ +When halfway home Nicholas handed the reins to the coachman and ran for\ +a moment to Natasha's sleigh and stood on its wing.\ +\ +"Natasha!" he whispered in French, "do you know I have made up my mind\ +about Sonya?"\ +\ +"Have you told her?" asked Natasha, suddenly beaming all over with joy.\ +\ +"Oh, how strange you are with that mustache and those eyebrows!...\ +Natasha--are you glad?"\ +\ +"I am so glad, so glad! I was beginning to be vexed with you. I did not\ +tell you, but you have been treating her badly. What a heart she has,\ +Nicholas! I am horrid sometimes, but I was ashamed to be happy while\ +Sonya was not," continued Natasha. "Now I am so glad! Well, run back to\ +her."\ +\ +"No, wait a bit.... Oh, how funny you look!" cried Nicholas, peering\ +into her face and finding in his sister too something new, unusual, and\ +bewitchingly tender that he had not seen in her before. "Natasha, it's\ +magical, isn't it?"\ +\ +"Yes," she replied. "You have done splendidly."\ +\ +"Had I seen her before as she is now," thought Nicholas, "I should long\ +ago have asked her what to do and have done whatever she told me, and\ +all would have been well."\ +\ +"So you are glad and I have done right?"\ +\ +"Oh, quite right! I had a quarrel with Mamma some time ago about it.\ +Mamma said she was angling for you. How could she say such a thing! I\ +nearly stormed at Mamma. I will never let anyone say anything bad of\ +Sonya, for there is nothing but good in her."\ +\ +"Then it's all right?" said Nicholas, again scrutinizing the expression\ +of his sister's face to see if she was in earnest. Then he jumped down\ +and, his boots scrunching the snow, ran back to his sleigh. The same\ +happy, smiling Circassian, with mustache and beaming eyes looking up\ +from under a sable hood, was still sitting there, and that Circassian\ +was Sonya, and that Sonya was certainly his future happy and loving\ +wife.\ +\ +When they reached home and had told their mother how they had spent the\ +evening at the Melyukovs', the girls went to their bedroom. When they\ +had undressed, but without washing off the cork mustaches, they sat a\ +long time talking of their happiness. They talked of how they would live\ +when they were married, how their husbands would be friends, and how\ +happy they would be. On Natasha's table stood two looking glasses which\ +Dunyasha had prepared beforehand.\ +\ +"Only when will all that be? I am afraid never.... It would be too\ +good!" said Natasha, rising and going to the looking glasses.\ +\ +"Sit down, Natasha; perhaps you'll see him," said Sonya.\ +\ +Natasha lit the candles, one on each side of one of the looking glasses,\ +and sat down.\ +\ +"I see someone with a mustache," said Natasha, seeing her own face.\ +\ +"You mustn't laugh, Miss," said Dunyasha.\ +\ +With Sonya's help and the maid's, Natasha got the glass she held into\ +the right position opposite the other; her face assumed a serious\ +expression and she sat silent. She sat a long time looking at the\ +receding line of candles reflected in the glasses and expecting (from\ +tales she had heard) to see a coffin, or him, Prince Andrew, in that\ +last dim, indistinctly outlined square. But ready as she was to take the\ +smallest speck for the image of a man or of a coffin, she saw nothing.\ +She began blinking rapidly and moved away from the looking glasses.\ +\ +"Why is it others see things and I don't?" she said. "You sit down now,\ +Sonya. You absolutely must, tonight! Do it for me.... Today I feel so\ +frightened!"\ +\ +Sonya sat down before the glasses, got the right position, and began\ +looking.\ +\ +"Now, Miss Sonya is sure to see something," whispered Dunyasha; "while\ +you do nothing but laugh."\ +\ +Sonya heard this and Natasha's whisper:\ +\ +"I know she will. She saw something last year."\ +\ +For about three minutes all were silent.\ +\ +"Of course she will!" whispered Natasha, but did not finish... suddenly\ +Sonya pushed away the glass she was holding and covered her eyes with\ +her hand.\ +\ +"Oh, Natasha!" she cried.\ +\ +"Did you see? Did you? What was it?" exclaimed Natasha, holding up the\ +looking glass.\ +\ +Sonya had not seen anything, she was just wanting to blink and to get up\ +when she heard Natasha say, "Of course she will!" She did not wish to\ +disappoint either Dunyasha or Natasha, but it was hard to sit still. She\ +did not herself know how or why the exclamation escaped her when she\ +covered her eyes.\ +\ +"You saw him?" urged Natasha, seizing her hand.\ +\ +"Yes. Wait a bit... I... saw him," Sonya could not help saying, not yet\ +knowing whom Natasha meant by him, Nicholas or Prince Andrew.\ +\ +"But why shouldn't I say I saw something? Others do see! Besides who can\ +tell whether I saw anything or not?" flashed through Sonya's mind.\ +\ +"Yes, I saw him," she said.\ +\ +"How? Standing or lying?"\ +\ +"No, I saw... At first there was nothing, then I saw him lying down."\ +\ +"Andrew lying? Is he ill?" asked Natasha, her frightened eyes fixed on\ +her friend.\ +\ +"No, on the contrary, on the contrary! His face was cheerful, and he\ +turned to me." And when saying this she herself fancied she had really\ +seen what she described.\ +\ +"Well, and then, Sonya?..."\ +\ +"After that, I could not make out what there was; something blue and\ +red..."\ +\ +"Sonya! When will he come back? When shall I see him! O, God, how afraid\ +I am for him and for myself and about everything!..." Natasha began, and\ +without replying to Sonya's words of comfort she got into bed, and long\ +after her candle was out lay open-eyed and motionless, gazing at the\ +moonlight through the frosty windowpanes.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XIII\ +\ +Soon after the Christmas holidays Nicholas told his mother of his love\ +for Sonya and of his firm resolve to marry her. The countess, who had\ +long noticed what was going on between them and was expecting this\ +declaration, listened to him in silence and then told her son that he\ +might marry whom he pleased, but that neither she nor his father would\ +give their blessing to such a marriage. Nicholas, for the first time,\ +felt that his mother was displeased with him and that, despite her love\ +for him, she would not give way. Coldly, without looking at her son, she\ +sent for her husband and, when he came, tried briefly and coldly to\ +inform him of the facts, in her son's presence, but unable to restrain\ +herself she burst into tears of vexation and left the room. The old\ +count began irresolutely to admonish Nicholas and beg him to abandon his\ +purpose. Nicholas replied that he could not go back on his word, and his\ +father, sighing and evidently disconcerted, very soon became silent and\ +went in to the countess. In all his encounters with his son, the count\ +was always conscious of his own guilt toward him for having wasted the\ +family fortune, and so he could not be angry with him for refusing to\ +marry an heiress and choosing the dowerless Sonya. On this occasion, he\ +was only more vividly conscious of the fact that if his affairs had not\ +been in disorder, no better wife for Nicholas than Sonya could have been\ +wished for, and that no one but himself with his Mitenka and his\ +uncomfortable habits was to blame for the condition of the family\ +finances.\ +\ +The father and mother did not speak of the matter to their son again,\ +but a few days later the countess sent for Sonya and, with a cruelty\ +neither of them expected, reproached her niece for trying to catch\ +Nicholas and for ingratitude. Sonya listened silently with downcast eyes\ +to the countess' cruel words, without understanding what was required of\ +her. She was ready to sacrifice everything for her benefactors. Self-\ +sacrifice was her most cherished idea but in this case she could not see\ +what she ought to sacrifice, or for whom. She could not help loving the\ +countess and the whole Rostov family, but neither could she help loving\ +Nicholas and knowing that his happiness depended on that love. She was\ +silent and sad and did not reply. Nicholas felt the situation to be\ +intolerable and went to have an explanation with his mother. He first\ +implored her to forgive him and Sonya and consent to their marriage,\ +then he threatened that if she molested Sonya he would at once marry her\ +secretly.\ +\ +The countess, with a coldness her son had never seen in her before,\ +replied that he was of age, that Prince Andrew was marrying without his\ +father's consent, and he could do the same, but that she would never\ +receive that intriguer as her daughter.\ +\ +Exploding at the word intriguer, Nicholas, raising his voice, told his\ +mother he had never expected her to try to force him to sell his\ +feelings, but if that were so, he would say for the last time.... But he\ +had no time to utter the decisive word which the expression of his face\ +caused his mother to await with terror, and which would perhaps have\ +forever remained a cruel memory to them both. He had not time to say it,\ +for Natasha, with a pale and set face, entered the room from the door at\ +which she had been listening.\ +\ +"Nicholas, you are talking nonsense! Be quiet, be quiet, be quiet, I\ +tell you!..." she almost screamed, so as to drown his voice.\ +\ +"Mamma darling, it's not at all so... my poor, sweet darling," she said\ +to her mother, who conscious that they had been on the brink of a\ +rupture gazed at her son with terror, but in the obstinacy and\ +excitement of the conflict could not and would not give way.\ +\ +"Nicholas, I'll explain to you. Go away! Listen, Mamma darling," said\ +Natasha.\ +\ +Her words were incoherent, but they attained the purpose at which she\ +was aiming.\ +\ +The countess, sobbing heavily, hid her face on her daughter's breast,\ +while Nicholas rose, clutching his head, and left the room.\ +\ +Natasha set to work to effect a reconciliation, and so far succeeded\ +that Nicholas received a promise from his mother that Sonya should not\ +be troubled, while he on his side promised not to undertake anything\ +without his parents' knowledge.\ +\ +Firmly resolved, after putting his affairs in order in the regiment, to\ +retire from the army and return and marry Sonya, Nicholas, serious,\ +sorrowful, and at variance with his parents, but, as it seemed to him,\ +passionately in love, left at the beginning of January to rejoin his\ +regiment.\ +\ +After Nicholas had gone things in the Rostov household were more\ +depressing than ever, and the countess fell ill from mental agitation.\ +\ +Sonya was unhappy at the separation from Nicholas and still more so on\ +account of the hostile tone the countess could not help adopting toward\ +her. The count was more perturbed than ever by the condition of his\ +affairs, which called for some decisive action. Their town house and\ +estate near Moscow had inevitably to be sold, and for this they had to\ +go to Moscow. But the countess' health obliged them to delay their\ +departure from day to day.\ +\ +Natasha, who had borne the first period of separation from her betrothed\ +lightly and even cheerfully, now grew more agitated and impatient every\ +day. The thought that her best days, which she would have employed in\ +loving him, were being vainly wasted, with no advantage to anyone,\ +tormented her incessantly. His letters for the most part irritated her.\ +It hurt her to think that while she lived only in the thought of him, he\ +was living a real life, seeing new places and new people that interested\ +him. The more interesting his letters were the more vexed she felt. Her\ +letters to him, far from giving her any comfort, seemed to her a\ +wearisome and artificial obligation. She could not write, because she\ +could not conceive the possibility of expressing sincerely in a letter\ +even a thousandth part of what she expressed by voice, smile, and\ +glance. She wrote to him formal, monotonous, and dry letters, to which\ +she attached no importance herself, and in the rough copies of which the\ +countess corrected her mistakes in spelling.\ +\ +There was still no improvement in the countess' health, but it was\ +impossible to defer the journey to Moscow any longer. Natasha's\ +trousseau had to be ordered and the house sold. Moreover, Prince Andrew\ +was expected in Moscow, where old Prince Bolkonski was spending the\ +winter, and Natasha felt sure he had already arrived.\ +\ +So the countess remained in the country, and the count, taking Sonya and\ +Natasha with him, went to Moscow at the end of January.\ +\ +BOOK EIGHT: 1811 - 12\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER I\ +\ +After Prince Andrew's engagement to Natasha, Pierre without any apparent\ +cause suddenly felt it impossible to go on living as before. Firmly\ +convinced as he was of the truths revealed to him by his benefactor, and\ +happy as he had been in perfecting his inner man, to which he had\ +devoted himself with such ardor--all the zest of such a life vanished\ +after the engagement of Andrew and Natasha and the death of Joseph\ +Alexeevich, the news of which reached him almost at the same time. Only\ +the skeleton of life remained: his house, a brilliant wife who now\ +enjoyed the favors of a very important personage, acquaintance with all\ +Petersburg, and his court service with its dull formalities. And this\ +life suddenly seemed to Pierre unexpectedly loathsome. He ceased keeping\ +a diary, avoided the company of the Brothers, began going to the club\ +again, drank a great deal, and came once more in touch with the bachelor\ +sets, leading such a life that the Countess Helene thought it necessary\ +to speak severely to him about it. Pierre felt that she was right, and\ +to avoid compromising her went away to Moscow.\ +\ +In Moscow as soon as he entered his huge house in which the faded and\ +fading princesses still lived, with its enormous retinue; as soon as,\ +driving through the town, he saw the Iberian shrine with innumerable\ +tapers burning before the golden covers of the icons, the Kremlin Square\ +with its snow undisturbed by vehicles, the sleigh drivers and hovels of\ +the Sivtsev Vrazhok, those old Moscovites who desired nothing, hurried\ +nowhere, and were ending their days leisurely; when he saw those old\ +Moscow ladies, the Moscow balls, and the English Club, he felt himself\ +at home in a quiet haven. In Moscow he felt at peace, at home, warm and\ +dirty as in an old dressing gown.\ +\ +Moscow society, from the old women down to the children, received Pierre\ +like a long-expected guest whose place was always ready awaiting him.\ +For Moscow society Pierre was the nicest, kindest, most intellectual,\ +merriest, and most magnanimous of cranks, a heedless, genial nobleman of\ +the old Russian type. His purse was always empty because it was open to\ +everyone.\ +\ +Benefit performances, poor pictures, statues, benevolent societies,\ +gypsy choirs, schools, subscription dinners, sprees, Freemasons,\ +churches, and books--no one and nothing met with a refusal from him, and\ +had it not been for two friends who had borrowed large sums from him and\ +taken him under their protection, he would have given everything away.\ +There was never a dinner or soiree at the club without him. As soon as\ +he sank into his place on the sofa after two bottles of Margaux he was\ +surrounded, and talking, disputing, and joking began. When there were\ +quarrels, his kindly smile and well-timed jests reconciled the\ +antagonists. The masonic dinners were dull and dreary when he was not\ +there.\ +\ +When after a bachelor supper he rose with his amiable and kindly smile,\ +yielding to the entreaties of the festive company to drive off somewhere\ +with them, shouts of delight and triumph arose among the young men. At\ +balls he danced if a partner was needed. Young ladies, married and\ +unmarried, liked him because without making love to any of them, he was\ +equally amiable to all, especially after supper. "Il est charmant; il\ +n'a pas de sexe," * they said of him.\ +\ +\ +* "He is charming; he has no sex."\ +\ +Pierre was one of those retired gentlemen-in-waiting of whom there were\ +hundreds good-humoredly ending their days in Moscow.\ +\ +How horrified he would have been seven years before, when he first\ +arrived from abroad, had he been told that there was no need for him to\ +seek or plan anything, that his rut had long been shaped, eternally\ +predetermined, and that wriggle as he might, he would be what all in his\ +position were. He could not have believed it! Had he not at one time\ +longed with all his heart to establish a republic in Russia; then\ +himself to be a Napoleon; then to be a philosopher; and then a\ +strategist and the conqueror of Napoleon? Had he not seen the\ +possibility of, and passionately desired, the regeneration of the sinful\ +human race, and his own progress to the highest degree of perfection?\ +Had he not established schools and hospitals and liberated his serfs?\ +\ +But instead of all that--here he was, the wealthy husband of an\ +unfaithful wife, a retired gentleman-in-waiting, fond of eating and\ +drinking and, as he unbuttoned his waistcoat, of abusing the government\ +a bit, a member of the Moscow English Club, and a universal favorite in\ +Moscow society. For a long time he could not reconcile himself to the\ +idea that he was one of those same retired Moscow gentlemen-in-waiting\ +he had so despised seven years before.\ +\ +Sometimes he consoled himself with the thought that he was only living\ +this life temporarily; but then he was shocked by the thought of how\ +many, like himself, had entered that life and that club temporarily,\ +with all their teeth and hair, and had only left it when not a single\ +tooth or hair remained.\ +\ +In moments of pride, when he thought of his position it seemed to him\ +that he was quite different and distinct from those other retired\ +gentlemen-in-waiting he had formerly despised: they were empty, stupid,\ +contented fellows, satisfied with their position, "while I am still\ +discontented and want to do something for mankind. But perhaps all these\ +comrades of mine struggled just like me and sought something new, a path\ +in life of their own, and like me were brought by force of\ +circumstances, society, and race--by that elemental force against which\ +man is powerless--to the condition I am in," said he to himself in\ +moments of humility; and after living some time in Moscow he no longer\ +despised, but began to grow fond of, to respect, and to pity his\ +comrades in destiny, as he pitied himself.\ +\ +Pierre no longer suffered moments of despair, hypochondria, and disgust\ +with life, but the malady that had formerly found expression in such\ +acute attacks was driven inwards and never left him for a moment. "What\ +for? Why? What is going on in the world?" he would ask himself in\ +perplexity several times a day, involuntarily beginning to reflect anew\ +on the meaning of the phenomena of life; but knowing by experience that\ +there were no answers to these questions he made haste to turn away from\ +them, and took up a book, or hurried off to the club or to Apollon\ +Nikolaevich's, to exchange the gossip of the town.\ +\ +"Helene, who has never cared for anything but her own body and is one of\ +the stupidest women in the world," thought Pierre, "is regarded by\ +people as the acme of intelligence and refinement, and they pay homage\ +to her. Napoleon Bonaparte was despised by all as long as he was great,\ +but now that he has become a wretched comedian the Emperor Francis wants\ +to offer him his daughter in an illegal marriage. The Spaniards, through\ +the Catholic clergy, offer praise to God for their victory over the\ +French on the fourteenth of June, and the French, also through the\ +Catholic clergy, offer praise because on that same fourteenth of June\ +they defeated the Spaniards. My brother Masons swear by the blood that\ +they are ready to sacrifice everything for their neighbor, but they do\ +not give a ruble each to the collections for the poor, and they\ +intrigue, the Astraea Lodge against the Manna Seekers, and fuss about an\ +authentic Scotch carpet and a charter that nobody needs, and the meaning\ +of which the very man who wrote it does not understand. We all profess\ +the Christian law of forgiveness of injuries and love of our neighbors,\ +the law in honor of which we have built in Moscow forty times forty\ +churches--but yesterday a deserter was knouted to death and a minister\ +of that same law of love and forgiveness, a priest, gave the soldier a\ +cross to kiss before his execution." So thought Pierre, and the whole of\ +this general deception which everyone accepts, accustomed as he was to\ +it, astonished him each time as if it were something new. "I understand\ +the deception and confusion," he thought, "but how am I to tell them all\ +that I see? I have tried, and have always found that they too in the\ +depths of their souls understand it as I do, and only try not to see it.\ +So it appears that it must be so! But I--what is to become of me?"\ +thought he. He had the unfortunate capacity many men, especially\ +Russians, have of seeing and believing in the possibility of goodness\ +and truth, but of seeing the evil and falsehood of life too clearly to\ +be able to take a serious part in it. Every sphere of work was\ +connected, in his eyes, with evil and deception. Whatever he tried to\ +be, whatever he engaged in, the evil and falsehood of it repulsed him\ +and blocked every path of activity. Yet he had to live and to find\ +occupation. It was too dreadful to be under the burden of these\ +insoluble problems, so he abandoned himself to any distraction in order\ +to forget them. He frequented every kind of society, drank much, bought\ +pictures, engaged in building, and above all--read.\ +\ +He read, and read everything that came to hand. On coming home, while\ +his valets were still taking off his things, he picked up a book and\ +began to read. From reading he passed to sleeping, from sleeping to\ +gossip in drawing rooms of the club, from gossip to carousals and women;\ +from carousals back to gossip, reading, and wine. Drinking became more\ +and more a physical and also a moral necessity. Though the doctors\ +warned him that with his corpulence wine was dangerous for him, he drank\ +a great deal. He was only quite at ease when having poured several\ +glasses of wine mechanically into his large mouth he felt a pleasant\ +warmth in his body, an amiability toward all his fellows, and a\ +readiness to respond superficially to every idea without probing it\ +deeply. Only after emptying a bottle or two did he feel dimly that the\ +terribly tangled skein of life which previously had terrified him was\ +not as dreadful as he had thought. He was always conscious of some\ +aspect of that skein, as with a buzzing in his head after dinner or\ +supper he chatted or listened to conversation or read. But under the\ +influence of wine he said to himself: "It doesn't matter. I'll get it\ +unraveled. I have a solution ready, but have no time now--I'll think it\ +all out later on!" But the later on never came.\ +\ +In the morning, on an empty stomach, all the old questions appeared as\ +insoluble and terrible as ever, and Pierre hastily picked up a book, and\ +if anyone came to see him he was glad.\ +\ +Sometimes he remembered how he had heard that soldiers in war when\ +entrenched under the enemy's fire, if they have nothing to do, try hard\ +to find some occupation the more easily to bear the danger. To Pierre\ +all men seemed like those soldiers, seeking refuge from life: some in\ +ambition, some in cards, some in framing laws, some in women, some in\ +toys, some in horses, some in politics, some in sport, some in wine, and\ +some in governmental affairs. "Nothing is trivial, and nothing is\ +important, it's all the same--only to save oneself from it as best one\ +can," thought Pierre. "Only not to see it, that dreadful it!"\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER II\ +\ +At the beginning of winter Prince Nicholas Bolkonski and his daughter\ +moved to Moscow. At that time enthusiasm for the Emperor Alexander's\ +regime had weakened and a patriotic and anti-French tendency prevailed\ +there, and this, together with his past and his intellect and his\ +originality, at once made Prince Nicholas Bolkonski an object of\ +particular respect to the Moscovites and the center of the Moscow\ +opposition to the government.\ +\ +The prince had aged very much that year. He showed marked signs of\ +senility by a tendency to fall asleep, forgetfulness of quite recent\ +events, remembrance of remote ones, and the childish vanity with which\ +he accepted the role of head of the Moscow opposition. In spite of this\ +the old man inspired in all his visitors alike a feeling of respectful\ +veneration--especially of an evening when he came in to tea in his old-\ +fashioned coat and powdered wig and, aroused by anyone, told his abrupt\ +stories of the past, or uttered yet more abrupt and scathing criticisms\ +of the present. For them all, that old-fashioned house with its gigantic\ +mirrors, pre-Revolution furniture, powdered footmen, and the stern\ +shrewd old man (himself a relic of the past century) with his gentle\ +daughter and the pretty Frenchwoman who were reverently devoted to him\ +presented a majestic and agreeable spectacle. But the visitors did not\ +reflect that besides the couple of hours during which they saw their\ +host, there were also twenty-two hours in the day during which the\ +private and intimate life of the house continued.\ +\ +Latterly that private life had become very trying for Princess Mary.\ +There in Moscow she was deprived of her greatest pleasures--talks with\ +the pilgrims and the solitude which refreshed her at Bald Hills--and she\ +had none of the advantages and pleasures of city life. She did not go\ +out into society; everyone knew that her father would not let her go\ +anywhere without him, and his failing health prevented his going out\ +himself, so that she was not invited to dinners and evening parties. She\ +had quite abandoned the hope of getting married. She saw the coldness\ +and malevolence with which the old prince received and dismissed the\ +young men, possible suitors, who sometimes appeared at their house. She\ +had no friends: during this visit to Moscow she had been disappointed in\ +the two who had been nearest to her. Mademoiselle Bourienne, with whom\ +she had never been able to be quite frank, had now become unpleasant to\ +her, and for various reasons Princess Mary avoided her. Julie, with whom\ +she had corresponded for the last five years, was in Moscow, but proved\ +to be quite alien to her when they met. Just then Julie, who by the\ +death of her brothers had become one of the richest heiresses in Moscow,\ +was in the full whirl of society pleasures. She was surrounded by young\ +men who, she fancied, had suddenly learned to appreciate her worth.\ +Julie was at that stage in the life of a society woman when she feels\ +that her last chance of marrying has come and that her fate must be\ +decided now or never. On Thursdays Princess Mary remembered with a\ +mournful smile that she now had no one to write to, since Julie--whose\ +presence gave her no pleasure was here and they met every week. Like the\ +old emigre who declined to marry the lady with whom he had spent his\ +evenings for years, she regretted Julie's presence and having no one to\ +write to. In Moscow Princess Mary had no one to talk to, no one to whom\ +to confide her sorrow, and much sorrow fell to her lot just then. The\ +time for Prince Andrew's return and marriage was approaching, but his\ +request to her to prepare his father for it had not been carried out; in\ +fact, it seemed as if matters were quite hopeless, for at every mention\ +of the young Countess Rostova the old prince (who apart from that was\ +usually in a bad temper) lost control of himself. Another lately added\ +sorrow arose from the lessons she gave her six year-old nephew. To her\ +consternation she detected in herself in relation to little Nicholas\ +some symptoms of her father's irritability. However often she told\ +herself that she must not get irritable when teaching her nephew, almost\ +every time that, pointer in hand, she sat down to show him the French\ +alphabet, she so longed to pour her own knowledge quickly and easily\ +into the child--who was already afraid that Auntie might at any moment\ +get angry--that at his slightest inattention she trembled, became\ +flustered and heated, raised her voice, and sometimes pulled him by the\ +arm and put him in the corner. Having put him in the corner she would\ +herself begin to cry over her cruel, evil nature, and little Nicholas,\ +following her example, would sob, and without permission would leave his\ +corner, come to her, pull her wet hands from her face, and comfort her.\ +But what distressed the princess most of all was her father's\ +irritability, which was always directed against her and had of late\ +amounted to cruelty. Had he forced her to prostrate herself to the\ +ground all night, had he beaten her or made her fetch wood or water, it\ +would never have entered her mind to think her position hard; but this\ +loving despot--the more cruel because he loved her and for that reason\ +tormented himself and her--knew how not merely to hurt and humiliate her\ +deliberately, but to show her that she was always to blame for\ +everything. Of late he had exhibited a new trait that tormented Princess\ +Mary more than anything else; this was his ever-increasing intimacy with\ +Mademoiselle Bourienne. The idea that at the first moment of receiving\ +the news of his son's intentions had occurred to him in jest--that if\ +Andrew got married he himself would marry Bourienne--had evidently\ +pleased him, and latterly he had persistently, and as it seemed to\ +Princess Mary merely to offend her, shown special endearments to the\ +companion and expressed his dissatisfaction with his daughter by\ +demonstrations of love of Bourienne.\ +\ +One day in Moscow in Princess Mary's presence (she thought her father\ +did it purposely when she was there) the old prince kissed Mademoiselle\ +Bourienne's hand and, drawing her to him, embraced her affectionately.\ +Princess Mary flushed and ran out of the room. A few minutes later\ +Mademoiselle Bourienne came into Princess Mary's room smiling and making\ +cheerful remarks in her agreeable voice. Princess Mary hastily wiped\ +away her tears, went resolutely up to Mademoiselle Bourienne, and\ +evidently unconscious of what she was doing began shouting in angry\ +haste at the Frenchwoman, her voice breaking: "It's horrible, vile,\ +inhuman, to take advantage of the weakness..." She did not finish.\ +"Leave my room," she exclaimed, and burst into sobs.\ +\ +Next day the prince did not say a word to his daughter, but she noticed\ +that at dinner he gave orders that Mademoiselle Bourienne should be\ +served first. After dinner, when the footman handed coffee and from\ +habit began with the princess, the prince suddenly grew furious, threw\ +his stick at Philip, and instantly gave instructions to have him\ +conscripted for the army.\ +\ +"He doesn't obey... I said it twice... and he doesn't obey! She is the\ +first person in this house; she's my best friend," cried the prince.\ +"And if you allow yourself," he screamed in a fury, addressing Princess\ +Mary for the first time, "to forget yourself again before her as you\ +dared to do yesterday, I will show you who is master in this house. Go!\ +Don't let me set eyes on you; beg her pardon!"\ +\ +Princess Mary asked Mademoiselle Bourienne's pardon, and also her\ +father's pardon for herself and for Philip the footman, who had begged\ +for her intervention.\ +\ +At such moments something like a pride of sacrifice gathered in her\ +soul. And suddenly that father whom she had judged would look for his\ +spectacles in her presence, fumbling near them and not seeing them, or\ +would forget something that had just occurred, or take a false step with\ +his failing legs and turn to see if anyone had noticed his feebleness,\ +or, worst of all, at dinner when there were no visitors to excite him\ +would suddenly fall asleep, letting his napkin drop and his shaking head\ +sink over his plate. "He is old and feeble, and I dare to condemn him!"\ +she thought at such moments, with a feeling of revulsion against\ +herself.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER III\ +\ +In 1811 there was living in Moscow a French doctor--Metivier--who had\ +rapidly become the fashion. He was enormously tall, handsome, amiable as\ +Frenchmen are, and was, as all Moscow said, an extraordinarily clever\ +doctor. He was received in the best houses not merely as a doctor, but\ +as an equal.\ +\ +Prince Nicholas had always ridiculed medicine, but latterly on\ +Mademoiselle Bourienne's advice had allowed this doctor to visit him and\ +had grown accustomed to him. Metivier came to see the prince about twice\ +a week.\ +\ +On December 6--St. Nicholas' Day and the prince's name day--all Moscow\ +came to the prince's front door but he gave orders to admit no one and\ +to invite to dinner only a small number, a list of whom he gave to\ +Princess Mary.\ +\ +Metivier, who came in the morning with his felicitations, considered it\ +proper in his quality of doctor de forcer la consigne, * as he told\ +Princess Mary, and went in to see the prince. It happened that on that\ +morning of his name day the prince was in one of his worst moods. He had\ +been going about the house all the morning finding fault with everyone\ +and pretending not to understand what was said to him and not to be\ +understood himself. Princess Mary well knew this mood of quiet absorbed\ +querulousness, which generally culminated in a burst of rage, and she\ +went about all that morning as though facing a cocked and loaded gun and\ +awaited the inevitable explosion. Until the doctor's arrival the morning\ +had passed off safely. After admitting the doctor, Princess Mary sat\ +down with a book in the drawing room near the door through which she\ +could hear all that passed in the study.\ +\ +\ +* To force the guard.\ +\ +At first she heard only Metivier's voice, then her father's, then both\ +voices began speaking at the same time, the door was flung open, and on\ +the threshold appeared the handsome figure of the terrified Metivier\ +with his shock of black hair, and the prince in his dressing gown and\ +fez, his face distorted with fury and the pupils of his eyes rolled\ +downwards.\ +\ +"You don't understand?" shouted the prince, "but I do! French spy, slave\ +of Buonaparte, spy, get out of my house! Be off, I tell you..."\ +\ +Metivier, shrugging his shoulders, went up to Mademoiselle Bourienne who\ +at the sound of shouting had run in from an adjoining room.\ +\ +"The prince is not very well: bile and rush of blood to the head. Keep\ +calm, I will call again tomorrow," said Metivier; and putting his\ +fingers to his lips he hastened away.\ +\ +Through the study door came the sound of slippered feet and the cry:\ +"Spies, traitors, traitors everywhere! Not a moment's peace in my own\ +house!"\ +\ +After Metivier's departure the old prince called his daughter in, and\ +the whole weight of his wrath fell on her. She was to blame that a spy\ +had been admitted. Had he not told her, yes, told her to make a list,\ +and not to admit anyone who was not on that list? Then why was that\ +scoundrel admitted? She was the cause of it all. With her, he said, he\ +could not have a moment's peace and could not die quietly.\ +\ +"No, ma'am! We must part, we must part! Understand that, understand it!\ +I cannot endure any more," he said, and left the room. Then, as if\ +afraid she might find some means of consolation, he returned and trying\ +to appear calm added: "And don't imagine I have said this in a moment of\ +anger. I am calm. I have thought it over, and it will be carried out--we\ +must part; so find some place for yourself...." But he could not\ +restrain himself and with the virulence of which only one who loves is\ +capable, evidently suffering himself, he shook his fists at her and\ +screamed:\ +\ +"If only some fool would marry her!" Then he slammed the door, sent for\ +Mademoiselle Bourienne, and subsided into his study.\ +\ +At two o'clock the six chosen guests assembled for dinner.\ +\ +These guests--the famous Count Rostopchin, Prince Lopukhin with his\ +nephew, General Chatrov an old war comrade of the prince's, and of the\ +younger generation Pierre and Boris Drubetskoy--awaited the prince in\ +the drawing room.\ +\ +Boris, who had come to Moscow on leave a few days before, had been\ +anxious to be presented to Prince Nicholas Bolkonski, and had contrived\ +to ingratiate himself so well that the old prince in his case made an\ +exception to the rule of not receiving bachelors in his house.\ +\ +The prince's house did not belong to what is known as fashionable\ +society, but his little circle--though not much talked about in town--\ +was one it was more flattering to be received in than any other. Boris\ +had realized this the week before when the commander-in-chief in his\ +presence invited Rostopchin to dinner on St. Nicholas' Day, and\ +Rostopchin had replied that he could not come:\ +\ +"On that day I always go to pay my devotions to the relics of Prince\ +Nicholas Bolkonski."\ +\ +"Oh, yes, yes!" replied the commander-in-chief. "How is he?..."\ +\ +The small group that assembled before dinner in the lofty old-fashioned\ +drawing room with its old furniture resembled the solemn gathering of a\ +court of justice. All were silent or talked in low tones. Prince\ +Nicholas came in serious and taciturn. Princess Mary seemed even quieter\ +and more diffident than usual. The guests were reluctant to address her,\ +feeling that she was in no mood for their conversation. Count Rostopchin\ +alone kept the conversation going, now relating the latest town news,\ +and now the latest political gossip.\ +\ +Lopukhin and the old general occasionally took part in the conversation.\ +Prince Bolkonski listened as a presiding judge receives a report, only\ +now and then, silently or by a brief word, showing that he took heed of\ +what was being reported to him. The tone of the conversation was such as\ +indicated that no one approved of what was being done in the political\ +world. Incidents were related evidently confirming the opinion that\ +everything was going from bad to worse, but whether telling a story or\ +giving an opinion the speaker always stopped, or was stopped, at the\ +point beyond which his criticism might touch the sovereign himself.\ +\ +At dinner the talk turned on the latest political news: Napoleon's\ +seizure of the Duke of Oldenburg's territory, and the Russian Note,\ +hostile to Napoleon, which had been sent to all the European courts.\ +\ +"Bonaparte treats Europe as a pirate does a captured vessel," said Count\ +Rostopchin, repeating a phrase he had uttered several times before. "One\ +only wonders at the long-suffering or blindness of the crowned heads.\ +Now the Pope's turn has come and Bonaparte doesn't scruple to depose the\ +head of the Catholic Church--yet all keep silent! Our sovereign alone\ +has protested against the seizure of the Duke of Oldenburg's territory,\ +and even..." Count Rostopchin paused, feeling that he had reached the\ +limit beyond which censure was impossible.\ +\ +"Other territories have been offered in exchange for the Duchy of\ +Oldenburg," said Prince Bolkonski. "He shifts the Dukes about as I might\ +move my serfs from Bald Hills to Bogucharovo or my Ryazan estates."\ +\ +"The Duke of Oldenburg bears his misfortunes with admirable strength of\ +character and resignation," remarked Boris, joining in respectfully.\ +\ +He said this because on his journey from Petersburg he had had the honor\ +of being presented to the Duke. Prince Bolkonski glanced at the young\ +man as if about to say something in reply, but changed his mind,\ +evidently considering him too young.\ +\ +"I have read our protests about the Oldenburg affair and was surprised\ +how badly the Note was worded," remarked Count Rostopchin in the casual\ +tone of a man dealing with a subject quite familiar to him.\ +\ +Pierre looked at Rostopchin with naive astonishment, not understanding\ +why he should be disturbed by the bad composition of the Note.\ +\ +"Does it matter, Count, how the Note is worded," he asked, "so long as\ +its substance is forcible?"\ +\ +"My dear fellow, with our five hundred thousand troops it should be easy\ +to have a good style," returned Count Rostopchin.\ +\ +Pierre now understood the count's dissatisfaction with the wording of\ +the Note.\ +\ +"One would have thought quill drivers enough had sprung up," remarked\ +the old prince. "There in Petersburg they are always writing--not notes\ +only but even new laws. My Andrew there has written a whole volume of\ +laws for Russia. Nowadays they are always writing!" and he laughed\ +unnaturally.\ +\ +There was a momentary pause in the conversation; the old general cleared\ +his throat to draw attention.\ +\ +"Did you hear of the last event at the review in Petersburg? The figure\ +cut by the new French ambassador."\ +\ +"Eh? Yes, I heard something: he said something awkward in His Majesty's\ +presence."\ +\ +"His Majesty drew attention to the Grenadier division and to the march\ +past," continued the general, "and it seems the ambassador took no\ +notice and allowed himself to reply that: 'We in France pay no attention\ +to such trifles!' The Emperor did not condescend to reply. At the next\ +review, they say, the Emperor did not once deign to address him."\ +\ +All were silent. On this fact relating to the Emperor personally, it was\ +impossible to pass any judgment.\ +\ +"Impudent fellows!" said the prince. "You know Metivier? I turned him\ +out of my house this morning. He was here; they admitted him in spite of\ +my request that they should let no one in," he went on, glancing angrily\ +at his daughter.\ +\ +And he narrated his whole conversation with the French doctor and the\ +reasons that convinced him that Metivier was a spy. Though these reasons\ +were very insufficient and obscure, no one made any rejoinder.\ +\ +After the roast, champagne was served. The guests rose to congratulate\ +the old prince. Princess Mary, too, went round to him.\ +\ +He gave her a cold, angry look and offered her his wrinkled, clean-\ +shaven cheek to kiss. The whole expression of his face told her that he\ +had not forgotten the morning's talk, that his decision remained in\ +force, and only the presence of visitors hindered his speaking of it to\ +her now.\ +\ +When they went into the drawing room where coffee was served, the old\ +men sat together.\ +\ +Prince Nicholas grew more animated and expressed his views on the\ +impending war.\ +\ +He said that our wars with Bonaparte would be disastrous so long as we\ +sought alliances with the Germans and thrust ourselves into European\ +affairs, into which we had been drawn by the Peace of Tilsit. "We ought\ +not to fight either for or against Austria. Our political interests are\ +all in the East, and in regard to Bonaparte the only thing is to have an\ +armed frontier and a firm policy, and he will never dare to cross the\ +Russian frontier, as was the case in 1807!"\ +\ +"How can we fight the French, Prince?" said Count Rostopchin. "Can we\ +arm ourselves against our teachers and divinities? Look at our youths,\ +look at our ladies! The French are our Gods: Paris is our Kingdom of\ +Heaven."\ +\ +He began speaking louder, evidently to be heard by everyone.\ +\ +"French dresses, French ideas, French feelings! There now, you turned\ +Metivier out by the scruff of his neck because he is a Frenchman and a\ +scoundrel, but our ladies crawl after him on their knees. I went to a\ +party last night, and there out of five ladies three were Roman\ +Catholics and had the Pope's indulgence for doing woolwork on Sundays.\ +And they themselves sit there nearly naked, like the signboards at our\ +Public Baths if I may say so. Ah, when one looks at our young people,\ +Prince, one would like to take Peter the Great's old cudgel out of the\ +museum and belabor them in the Russian way till all the nonsense jumps\ +out of them."\ +\ +All were silent. The old prince looked at Rostopchin with a smile and\ +wagged his head approvingly.\ +\ +"Well, good-by, your excellency, keep well!" said Rostopchin, getting up\ +with characteristic briskness and holding out his hand to the prince.\ +\ +"Good-bye, my dear fellow.... His words are music, I never tire of\ +hearing him!" said the old prince, keeping hold of the hand and offering\ +his cheek to be kissed.\ +\ +Following Rostopchin's example the others also rose.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER IV\ +\ +Princess Mary as she sat listening to the old men's talk and\ +faultfinding, understood nothing of what she heard; she only wondered\ +whether the guests had all observed her father's hostile attitude toward\ +her. She did not even notice the special attentions and amiabilities\ +shown her during dinner by Boris Drubetskoy, who was visiting them for\ +the third time already.\ +\ +Princess Mary turned with absent-minded questioning look to Pierre, who\ +hat in hand and with a smile on his face was the last of the guests to\ +approach her after the old prince had gone out and they were left alone\ +in the drawing room.\ +\ +"May I stay a little longer?" he said, letting his stout body sink into\ +an armchair beside her.\ +\ +"Oh yes," she answered. "You noticed nothing?" her look asked.\ +\ +Pierre was in an agreeable after-dinner mood. He looked straight before\ +him and smiled quietly.\ +\ +"Have you known that young man long, Princess?" he asked.\ +\ +"Who?"\ +\ +"Drubetskoy."\ +\ +"No, not long..."\ +\ +"Do you like him?"\ +\ +"Yes, he is an agreeable young man.... Why do you ask me that?" said\ +Princess Mary, still thinking of that morning's conversation with her\ +father.\ +\ +"Because I have noticed that when a young man comes on leave from\ +Petersburg to Moscow it is usually with the object of marrying an\ +heiress."\ +\ +"You have observed that?" said Princess Mary.\ +\ +"Yes," returned Pierre with a smile, "and this young man now manages\ +matters so that where there is a wealthy heiress there he is too. I can\ +read him like a book. At present he is hesitating whom to lay siege to--\ +you or Mademoiselle Julie Karagina. He is very attentive to her."\ +\ +"He visits them?"\ +\ +"Yes, very often. And do you know the new way of courting?" said Pierre\ +with an amused smile, evidently in that cheerful mood of good humored\ +raillery for which he so often reproached himself in his diary.\ +\ +"No," replied Princess Mary.\ +\ +"To please Moscow girls nowadays one has to be melancholy. He is very\ +melancholy with Mademoiselle Karagina," said Pierre.\ +\ +"Really?" asked Princess Mary, looking into Pierre's kindly face and\ +still thinking of her own sorrow. "It would be a relief," thought she,\ +"if I ventured to confide what I am feeling to someone. I should like to\ +tell everything to Pierre. He is kind and generous. It would be a\ +relief. He would give me advice."\ +\ +"Would you marry him?"\ +\ +"Oh, my God, Count, there are moments when I would marry anybody!" she\ +cried suddenly to her own surprise and with tears in her voice. "Ah, how\ +bitter it is to love someone near to you and to feel that..." she went\ +on in a trembling voice, "that you can do nothing for him but grieve\ +him, and to know that you cannot alter this. Then there is only one\ +thing left--to go away, but where could I go?"\ +\ +"What is wrong? What is it, Princess?"\ +\ +But without finishing what she was saying, Princess Mary burst into\ +tears.\ +\ +"I don't know what is the matter with me today. Don't take any notice--\ +forget what I have said!"\ +\ +Pierre's gaiety vanished completely. He anxiously questioned the\ +princess, asked her to speak out fully and confide her grief to him; but\ +she only repeated that she begged him to forget what she had said, that\ +she did not remember what she had said, and that she had no trouble\ +except the one he knew of--that Prince Andrew's marriage threatened to\ +cause a rupture between father and son.\ +\ +"Have you any news of the Rostovs?" she asked, to change the subject. "I\ +was told they are coming soon. I am also expecting Andrew any day. I\ +should like them to meet here."\ +\ +"And how does he now regard the matter?" asked Pierre, referring to the\ +old prince.\ +\ +Princess Mary shook her head.\ +\ +"What is to be done? In a few months the year will be up. The thing is\ +impossible. I only wish I could spare my brother the first moments. I\ +wish they would come sooner. I hope to be friends with her. You have\ +known them a long time," said Princess Mary. "Tell me honestly the whole\ +truth: what sort of girl is she, and what do you think of her?--The real\ +truth, because you know Andrew is risking so much doing this against his\ +father's will that I should like to know..."\ +\ +An undefined instinct told Pierre that these explanations, and repeated\ +requests to be told the whole truth, expressed ill-will on the princess'\ +part toward her future sister-in-law and a wish that he should\ +disapprove of Andrew's choice; but in reply he said what he felt rather\ +than what he thought.\ +\ +"I don't know how to answer your question," he said, blushing without\ +knowing why. "I really don't know what sort of girl she is; I can't\ +analyze her at all. She is enchanting, but what makes her so I don't\ +know. That is all one can say about her."\ +\ +Princess Mary sighed, and the expression on her face said: "Yes, that's\ +what I expected and feared."\ +\ +"Is she clever?" she asked.\ +\ +Pierre considered.\ +\ +"I think not," he said, "and yet--yes. She does not deign to be\ +clever.... Oh no, she is simply enchanting, and that is all."\ +\ +Princess Mary again shook her head disapprovingly.\ +\ +"Ah, I so long to like her! Tell her so if you see her before I do."\ +\ +"I hear they are expected very soon," said Pierre.\ +\ +Princess Mary told Pierre of her plan to become intimate with her future\ +sister-in-law as soon as the Rostovs arrived and to try to accustom the\ +old prince to her.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER V\ +\ +Boris had not succeeded in making a wealthy match in Petersburg, so with\ +the same object in view he came to Moscow. There he wavered between the\ +two richest heiresses, Julie and Princess Mary. Though Princess Mary\ +despite her plainness seemed to him more attractive than Julie, he,\ +without knowing why, felt awkward about paying court to her. When they\ +had last met on the old prince's name day, she had answered at random\ +all his attempts to talk sentimentally, evidently not listening to what\ +he was saying.\ +\ +Julie on the contrary accepted his attentions readily, though in a\ +manner peculiar to herself.\ +\ +She was twenty-seven. After the death of her brothers she had become\ +very wealthy. She was by now decidedly plain, but thought herself not\ +merely as good-looking as before but even far more attractive. She was\ +confirmed in this delusion by the fact that she had become a very\ +wealthy heiress and also by the fact that the older she grew the less\ +dangerous she became to men, and the more freely they could associate\ +with her and avail themselves of her suppers, soirees, and the animated\ +company that assembled at her house, without incurring any obligation. A\ +man who would have been afraid ten years before of going every day to\ +the house when there was a girl of seventeen there, for fear of\ +compromising her and committing himself, would now go boldly every day\ +and treat her not as a marriageable girl but as a sexless acquaintance.\ +\ +That winter the Karagins' house was the most agreeable and hospitable in\ +Moscow. In addition to the formal evening and dinner parties, a large\ +company, chiefly of men, gathered there every day, supping at midnight\ +and staying till three in the morning. Julie never missed a ball, a\ +promenade, or a play. Her dresses were always of the latest fashion. But\ +in spite of that she seemed to be disillusioned about everything and\ +told everyone that she did not believe either in friendship or in love,\ +or any of the joys of life, and expected peace only "yonder." She\ +adopted the tone of one who has suffered a great disappointment, like a\ +girl who has either lost the man she loved or been cruelly deceived by\ +him. Though nothing of the kind had happened to her she was regarded in\ +that light, and had even herself come to believe that she had suffered\ +much in life. This melancholy, which did not prevent her amusing\ +herself, did not hinder the young people who came to her house from\ +passing the time pleasantly. Every visitor who came to the house paid\ +his tribute to the melancholy mood of the hostess, and then amused\ +himself with society gossip, dancing, intellectual games, and bouts\ +rimes, which were in vogue at the Karagins'. Only a few of these young\ +men, among them Boris, entered more deeply into Julie's melancholy, and\ +with these she had prolonged conversations in private on the vanity of\ +all worldly things, and to them she showed her albums filled with\ +mournful sketches, maxims, and verses.\ +\ +To Boris, Julie was particularly gracious: she regretted his early\ +disillusionment with life, offered him such consolation of friendship as\ +she who had herself suffered so much could render, and showed him her\ +album. Boris sketched two trees in the album and wrote: "Rustic trees,\ +your dark branches shed gloom and melancholy upon me."\ +\ +On another page he drew a tomb, and wrote:\ +\ +\ +La mort est secourable et la mort est tranquille. Ah! contre les\ +douleurs il n'y a pas d'autre asile. *\ +\ +\ +* Death gives relief and death is peaceful.\ +\ +Ah! from suffering there is no other refuge.\ +\ +Julie said this was charming\ +\ +"There is something so enchanting in the smile of melancholy," she said\ +to Boris, repeating word for word a passage she had copied from a book.\ +"It is a ray of light in the darkness, a shade between sadness and\ +despair, showing the possibility of consolation."\ +\ +In reply Boris wrote these lines:\ +\ +\ +Aliment de poison d'une ame trop sensible, Toi, sans qui le bonheur me\ +serait impossible, Tendre melancholie, ah, viens me consoler, Viens\ +calmer les tourments de ma sombre retraite, Et mele une douceur secrete\ +A ces pleurs que je sens couler. *\ +\ +\ +*Poisonous nourishment of a too sensitive soul, Thou, without whom\ +happiness would for me be impossible, Tender melancholy, ah, come to\ +console me, Come to calm the torments of my gloomy retreat, And mingle a\ +secret sweetness With these tears that I feel to be flowing.\ +\ +For Boris, Julie played most doleful nocturnes on her harp. Boris read\ +'Poor Liza' aloud to her, and more than once interrupted the reading\ +because of the emotions that choked him. Meeting at large gatherings\ +Julie and Boris looked on one another as the only souls who understood\ +one another in a world of indifferent people.\ +\ +Anna Mikhaylovna, who often visited the Karagins, while playing cards\ +with the mother made careful inquiries as to Julie's dowry (she was to\ +have two estates in Penza and the Nizhegorod forests). Anna Mikhaylovna\ +regarded the refined sadness that united her son to the wealthy Julie\ +with emotion, and resignation to the Divine will.\ +\ +"You are always charming and melancholy, my dear Julie," she said to the\ +daughter. "Boris says his soul finds repose at your house. He has\ +suffered so many disappointments and is so sensitive," said she to the\ +mother. "Ah, my dear, I can't tell you how fond I have grown of Julie\ +latterly," she said to her son. "But who could help loving her? She is\ +an angelic being! Ah, Boris, Boris!"--she paused. "And how I pity her\ +mother," she went on; "today she showed me her accounts and letters from\ +Penza (they have enormous estates there), and she, poor thing, has no\ +one to help her, and they do cheat her so!"\ +\ +Boris smiled almost imperceptibly while listening to his mother. He\ +laughed blandly at her naive diplomacy but listened to what she had to\ +say, and sometimes questioned her carefully about the Penza and\ +Nizhegorod estates.\ +\ +Julie had long been expecting a proposal from her melancholy adorer and\ +was ready to accept it; but some secret feeling of repulsion for her,\ +for her passionate desire to get married, for her artificiality, and a\ +feeling of horror at renouncing the possibility of real love still\ +restrained Boris. His leave was expiring. He spent every day and whole\ +days at the Karagins', and every day on thinking the matter over told\ +himself that he would propose tomorrow. But in Julie's presence, looking\ +at her red face and chin (nearly always powdered), her moist eyes, and\ +her expression of continual readiness to pass at once from melancholy to\ +an unnatural rapture of married bliss, Boris could not utter the\ +decisive words, though in imagination he had long regarded himself as\ +the possessor of those Penza and Nizhegorod estates and had apportioned\ +the use of the income from them. Julie saw Boris' indecision, and\ +sometimes the thought occurred to her that she was repulsive to him, but\ +her feminine self-deception immediately supplied her with consolation,\ +and she told herself that he was only shy from love. Her melancholy,\ +however, began to turn to irritability, and not long before Boris'\ +departure she formed a definite plan of action. Just as Boris' leave of\ +absence was expiring, Anatole Kuragin made his appearance in Moscow, and\ +of course in the Karagins' drawing room, and Julie, suddenly abandoning\ +her melancholy, became cheerful and very attentive to Kuragin.\ +\ +"My dear," said Anna Mikhaylovna to her son, "I know from a reliable\ +source that Prince Vasili has sent his son to Moscow to get him married\ +to Julie. I am so fond of Julie that I should be sorry for her. What do\ +you think of it, my dear?"\ +\ +The idea of being made a fool of and of having thrown away that whole\ +month of arduous melancholy service to Julie, and of seeing all the\ +revenue from the Penza estates which he had already mentally apportioned\ +and put to proper use fall into the hands of another, and especially\ +into the hands of that idiot Anatole, pained Boris. He drove to the\ +Karagins' with the firm intention of proposing. Julie met him in a gay,\ +careless manner, spoke casually of how she had enjoyed yesterday's ball,\ +and asked when he was leaving. Though Boris had come intentionally to\ +speak of his love and therefore meant to be tender, he began speaking\ +irritably of feminine inconstancy, of how easily women can turn from\ +sadness to joy, and how their moods depend solely on who happens to be\ +paying court to them. Julie was offended and replied that it was true\ +that a woman needs variety, and the same thing over and over again would\ +weary anyone.\ +\ +"Then I should advise you..." Boris began, wishing to sting her; but at\ +that instant the galling thought occurred to him that he might have to\ +leave Moscow without having accomplished his aim, and have vainly wasted\ +his efforts--which was a thing he never allowed to happen.\ +\ +He checked himself in the middle of the sentence, lowered his eyes to\ +avoid seeing her unpleasantly irritated and irresolute face, and said:\ +\ +"I did not come here at all to quarrel with you. On the contrary..."\ +\ +He glanced at her to make sure that he might go on. Her irritability had\ +suddenly quite vanished, and her anxious, imploring eyes were fixed on\ +him with greedy expectation. "I can always arrange so as not to see her\ +often," thought Boris. "The affair has been begun and must be finished!"\ +He blushed hotly, raised his eyes to hers, and said:\ +\ +"You know my feelings for you!"\ +\ +There was no need to say more: Julie's face shone with triumph and self-\ +satisfaction; but she forced Boris to say all that is said on such\ +occasions--that he loved her and had never loved any other woman more\ +than her. She knew that for the Penza estates and Nizhegorod forests she\ +could demand this, and she received what she demanded.\ +\ +The affianced couple, no longer alluding to trees that shed gloom and\ +melancholy upon them, planned the arrangements of a splendid house in\ +Petersburg, paid calls, and prepared everything for a brilliant wedding.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER VI\ +\ +At the end of January old Count Rostov went to Moscow with Natasha and\ +Sonya. The countess was still unwell and unable to travel but it was\ +impossible to wait for her recovery. Prince Andrew was expected in\ +Moscow any day, the trousseau had to be ordered and the estate near\ +Moscow had to be sold, besides which the opportunity of presenting his\ +future daughter-in-law to old Prince Bolkonski while he was in Moscow\ +could not be missed. The Rostovs' Moscow house had not been heated that\ +winter and, as they had come only for a short time and the countess was\ +not with them, the count decided to stay with Marya Dmitrievna\ +Akhrosimova, who had long been pressing her hospitality on them.\ +\ +Late one evening the Rostovs' four sleighs drove into Marya Dmitrievna's\ +courtyard in the old Konyusheny street. Marya Dmitrievna lived alone.\ +She had already married off her daughter, and her sons were all in the\ +service.\ +\ +She held herself as erect, told everyone her opinion as candidly,\ +loudly, and bluntly as ever, and her whole bearing seemed a reproach to\ +others for any weakness, passion, or temptation--the possibility of\ +which she did not admit. From early in the morning, wearing a dressing\ +jacket, she attended to her household affairs, and then she drove out:\ +on holy days to church and after the service to jails and prisons on\ +affairs of which she never spoke to anyone. On ordinary days, after\ +dressing, she received petitioners of various classes, of whom there\ +were always some. Then she had dinner, a substantial and appetizing meal\ +at which there were always three or four guests; after dinner she played\ +a game of boston, and at night she had the newspapers or a new book read\ +to her while she knitted. She rarely made an exception and went out to\ +pay visits, and then only to the most important persons in the town.\ +\ +She had not yet gone to bed when the Rostovs arrived and the pulley of\ +the hall door squeaked from the cold as it let in the Rostovs and their\ +servants. Marya Dmitrievna, with her spectacles hanging down on her nose\ +and her head flung back, stood in the hall doorway looking with a stern,\ +grim face at the new arrivals. One might have thought she was angry with\ +the travelers and would immediately turn them out, had she not at the\ +same time been giving careful instructions to the servants for the\ +accommodation of the visitors and their belongings.\ +\ +"The count's things? Bring them here," she said, pointing to the\ +portmanteaus and not greeting anyone. "The young ladies'? There to the\ +left. Now what are you dawdling for?" she cried to the maids. "Get the\ +samovar ready!... You've grown plumper and prettier," she remarked,\ +drawing Natasha (whose cheeks were glowing from the cold) to her by the\ +hood. "Foo! You are cold! Now take off your things, quick!" she shouted\ +to the count who was going to kiss her hand. "You're half frozen, I'm\ +sure! Bring some rum for tea!... Bonjour, Sonya dear!" she added,\ +turning to Sonya and indicating by this French greeting her slightly\ +contemptuous though affectionate attitude toward her.\ +\ +When they came in to tea, having taken off their outdoor things and\ +tidied themselves up after their journey, Marya Dmitrievna kissed them\ +all in due order.\ +\ +"I'm heartily glad you have come and are staying with me. It was high\ +time," she said, giving Natasha a significant look. "The old man is here\ +and his son's expected any day. You'll have to make his acquaintance.\ +But we'll speak of that later on," she added, glancing at Sonya with a\ +look that showed she did not want to speak of it in her presence. "Now\ +listen," she said to the count. "What do you want tomorrow? Whom will\ +you send for? Shinshin?" she crooked one of her fingers. "The sniveling\ +Anna Mikhaylovna? That's two. She's here with her son. The son is\ +getting married! Then Bezukhov, eh? He is here too, with his wife. He\ +ran away from her and she came galloping after him. He dined with me on\ +Wednesday. As for them"--and she pointed to the girls--"tomorrow I'll\ +take them first to the Iberian shrine of the Mother of God, and then\ +we'll drive to the Super-Rogue's. I suppose you'll have everything new.\ +Don't judge by me: sleeves nowadays are this size! The other day young\ +Princess Irina Vasilevna came to see me; she was an awful sight--looked\ +as if she had put two barrels on her arms. You know not a day passes now\ +without some new fashion.... And what have you to do yourself?" she\ +asked the count sternly.\ +\ +"One thing has come on top of another: her rags to buy, and now a\ +purchaser has turned up for the Moscow estate and for the house. If you\ +will be so kind, I'll fix a time and go down to the estate just for a\ +day, and leave my lassies with you."\ +\ +"All right. All right. They'll be safe with me, as safe as in Chancery!\ +I'll take them where they must go, scold them a bit, and pet them a\ +bit," said Marya Dmitrievna, touching her goddaughter and favorite,\ +Natasha, on the cheek with her large hand.\ +\ +Next morning Marya Dmitrievna took the young ladies to the Iberian\ +shrine of the Mother of God and to Madame Suppert-Roguet, who was so\ +afraid of Marya Dmitrievna that she always let her have costumes at a\ +loss merely to get rid of her. Marya Dmitrievna ordered almost the whole\ +trousseau. When they got home she turned everybody out of the room\ +except Natasha, and then called her pet to her armchair.\ +\ +"Well, now we'll talk. I congratulate you on your betrothed. You've\ +hooked a fine fellow! I am glad for your sake and I've known him since\ +he was so high." She held her hand a couple of feet from the ground.\ +Natasha blushed happily. "I like him and all his family. Now listen! You\ +know that old Prince Nicholas much dislikes his son's marrying. The old\ +fellow's crotchety! Of course Prince Andrew is not a child and can shift\ +without him, but it's not nice to enter a family against a father's\ +will. One wants to do it peacefully and lovingly. You're a clever girl\ +and you'll know how to manage. Be kind, and use your wits. Then all will\ +be well."\ +\ +Natasha remained silent, from shyness Marya Dmitrievna supposed, but\ +really because she disliked anyone interfering in what touched her love\ +of Prince Andrew, which seemed to her so apart from all human affairs\ +that no one could understand it. She loved and knew Prince Andrew, he\ +loved her only, and was to come one of these days and take her. She\ +wanted nothing more.\ +\ +"You see I have known him a long time and am also fond of Mary, your\ +future sister-in-law. 'Husbands' sisters bring up blisters,' but this\ +one wouldn't hurt a fly. She has asked me to bring you two together.\ +Tomorrow you'll go with your father to see her. Be very nice and\ +affectionate to her: you're younger than she. When he comes, he'll find\ +you already know his sister and father and are liked by them. Am I right\ +or not? Won't that be best?"\ +\ +"Yes, it will," Natasha answered reluctantly.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER VII\ +\ +Next day, by Marya Dmitrievna's advice, Count Rostov took Natasha to\ +call on Prince Nicholas Bolkonski. The count did not set out cheerfully\ +on this visit, at heart he felt afraid. He well remembered the last\ +interview he had had with the old prince at the time of the enrollment,\ +when in reply to an invitation to dinner he had had to listen to an\ +angry reprimand for not having provided his full quota of men. Natasha,\ +on the other hand, having put on her best gown, was in the highest\ +spirits. "They can't help liking me," she thought. "Everybody always has\ +liked me, and I am so willing to do anything they wish, so ready to be\ +fond of him--for being his father--and of her--for being his sister--\ +that there is no reason for them not to like me..."\ +\ +They drove up to the gloomy old house on the Vozdvizhenka and entered\ +the vestibule.\ +\ +"Well, the Lord have mercy on us!" said the count, half in jest, half in\ +earnest; but Natasha noticed that her father was flurried on entering\ +the anteroom and inquired timidly and softly whether the prince and\ +princess were at home.\ +\ +When they had been announced a perturbation was noticeable among the\ +servants. The footman who had gone to announce them was stopped by\ +another in the large hall and they whispered to one another. Then a\ +maidservant ran into the hall and hurriedly said something, mentioning\ +the princess. At last an old, cross looking footman came and announced\ +to the Rostovs that the prince was not receiving, but that the princess\ +begged them to walk up. The first person who came to meet the visitors\ +was Mademoiselle Bourienne. She greeted the father and daughter with\ +special politeness and showed them to the princess' room. The princess,\ +looking excited and nervous, her face flushed in patches, ran in to meet\ +the visitors, treading heavily, and vainly trying to appear cordial and\ +at ease. From the first glance Princess Mary did not like Natasha. She\ +thought her too fashionably dressed, frivolously gay and vain. She did\ +not at all realize that before having seen her future sister-in-law she\ +was prejudiced against her by involuntary envy of her beauty, youth, and\ +happiness, as well as by jealousy of her brother's love for her. Apart\ +from this insuperable antipathy to her, Princess Mary was agitated just\ +then because on the Rostovs' being announced, the old prince had shouted\ +that he did not wish to see them, that Princess Mary might do so if she\ +chose, but they were not to be admitted to him. She had decided to\ +receive them, but feared lest the prince might at any moment indulge in\ +some freak, as he seemed much upset by the Rostovs' visit.\ +\ +"There, my dear princess, I've brought you my songstress," said the\ +count, bowing and looking round uneasily as if afraid the old prince\ +might appear. "I am so glad you should get to know one another... very\ +sorry the prince is still ailing," and after a few more commonplace\ +remarks he rose. "If you'll allow me to leave my Natasha in your hands\ +for a quarter of an hour, Princess, I'll drive round to see Anna\ +Semenovna, it's quite near in the Dogs' Square, and then I'll come back\ +for her."\ +\ +The count had devised this diplomatic ruse (as he afterwards told his\ +daughter) to give the future sisters-in-law an opportunity to talk to\ +one another freely, but another motive was to avoid the danger of\ +encountering the old prince, of whom he was afraid. He did not mention\ +this to his daughter, but Natasha noticed her father's nervousness and\ +anxiety and felt mortified by it. She blushed for him, grew still\ +angrier at having blushed, and looked at the princess with a bold and\ +defiant expression which said that she was not afraid of anybody. The\ +princess told the count that she would be delighted, and only begged him\ +to stay longer at Anna Semenovna's, and he departed.\ +\ +Despite the uneasy glances thrown at her by Princess Mary--who wished to\ +have a t\'eate-\'e0-t\'eate with Natasha--Mademoiselle Bourienne remained in the\ +room and persistently talked about Moscow amusements and theaters.\ +Natasha felt offended by the hesitation she had noticed in the anteroom,\ +by her father's nervousness, and by the unnatural manner of the princess\ +who--she thought--was making a favor of receiving her, and so everything\ +displeased her. She did not like Princess Mary, whom she thought very\ +plain, affected, and dry. Natasha suddenly shrank into herself and\ +involuntarily assumed an offhand air which alienated Princess Mary still\ +more. After five minutes of irksome, constrained conversation, they\ +heard the sound of slippered feet rapidly approaching. Princess Mary\ +looked frightened.\ +\ +The door opened and the old prince, in a dressing gown and a white\ +nightcap, came in.\ +\ +"Ah, madam!" he began. "Madam, Countess... Countess Rostova, if I am not\ +mistaken... I beg you to excuse me, to excuse me... I did not know,\ +madam. God is my witness, I did not know you had honored us with a\ +visit, and I came in such a costume only to see my daughter. I beg you\ +to excuse me... God is my witness, I didn't know-" he repeated,\ +stressing the word "God" so unnaturally and so unpleasantly that\ +Princess Mary stood with downcast eyes not daring to look either at her\ +father or at Natasha.\ +\ +Nor did the latter, having risen and curtsied, know what to do.\ +Mademoiselle Bourienne alone smiled agreeably.\ +\ +"I beg you to excuse me, excuse me! God is my witness, I did not know,"\ +muttered the old man, and after looking Natasha over from head to foot\ +he went out.\ +\ +Mademoiselle Bourienne was the first to recover herself after this\ +apparition and began speaking about the prince's indisposition. Natasha\ +and Princess Mary looked at one another in silence, and the longer they\ +did so without saying what they wanted to say, the greater grew their\ +antipathy to one another.\ +\ +When the count returned, Natasha was impolitely pleased and hastened to\ +get away: at that moment she hated the stiff, elderly princess, who\ +could place her in such an embarrassing position and had spent half an\ +hour with her without once mentioning Prince Andrew. "I couldn't begin\ +talking about him in the presence of that Frenchwoman," thought Natasha.\ +The same thought was meanwhile tormenting Princess Mary. She knew what\ +she ought to have said to Natasha, but she had been unable to say it\ +because Mademoiselle Bourienne was in the way, and because, without\ +knowing why, she felt it very difficult to speak of the marriage. When\ +the count was already leaving the room, Princess Mary went up hurriedly\ +to Natasha, took her by the hand, and said with a deep sigh:\ +\ +"Wait, I must..."\ +\ +Natasha glanced at her ironically without knowing why.\ +\ +"Dear Natalie," said Princess Mary, "I want you to know that I am glad\ +my brother has found happiness...."\ +\ +She paused, feeling that she was not telling the truth. Natasha noticed\ +this and guessed its reason.\ +\ +"I think, Princess, it is not convenient to speak of that now," she said\ +with external dignity and coldness, though she felt the tears choking\ +her.\ +\ +"What have I said and what have I done?" thought she, as soon as she was\ +out of the room.\ +\ +They waited a long time for Natasha to come to dinner that day. She sat\ +in her room crying like a child, blowing her nose and sobbing. Sonya\ +stood beside her, kissing her hair.\ +\ +"Natasha, what is it about?" she asked. "What do they matter to you? It\ +will all pass, Natasha."\ +\ +"But if you only knew how offensive it was... as if I..."\ +\ +"Don't talk about it, Natasha. It wasn't your fault so why should you\ +mind? Kiss me," said Sonya.\ +\ +Natasha raised her head and, kissing her friend on the lips, pressed her\ +wet face against her.\ +\ +"I can't tell you, I don't know. No one's to blame," said Natasha--"It's\ +my fault. But it all hurts terribly. Oh, why doesn't he come?..."\ +\ +She came in to dinner with red eyes. Marya Dmitrievna, who knew how the\ +prince had received the Rostovs, pretended not to notice how upset\ +Natasha was and jested resolutely and loudly at table with the count and\ +the other guests.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER VIII\ +\ +That evening the Rostovs went to the Opera, for which Marya Dmitrievna\ +had taken a box.\ +\ +Natasha did not want to go, but could not refuse Marya Dmitrievna's kind\ +offer which was intended expressly for her. When she came ready dressed\ +into the ballroom to await her father, and looking in the large mirror\ +there saw that she was pretty, very pretty, she felt even more sad, but\ +it was a sweet, tender sadness.\ +\ +"O God, if he were here now I would not behave as I did then, but\ +differently. I would not be silly and afraid of things, I would simply\ +embrace him, cling to him, and make him look at me with those searching\ +inquiring eyes with which he has so often looked at me, and then I would\ +make him laugh as he used to laugh. And his eyes--how I see those eyes!"\ +thought Natasha. "And what do his father and sister matter to me? I love\ +him alone, him, him, with that face and those eyes, with his smile,\ +manly and yet childlike.... No, I had better not think of him; not think\ +of him but forget him, quite forget him for the present. I can't bear\ +this waiting and I shall cry in a minute!" and she turned away from the\ +glass, making an effort not to cry. "And how can Sonya love Nicholas so\ +calmly and quietly and wait so long and so patiently?" thought she,\ +looking at Sonya, who also came in quite ready, with a fan in her hand.\ +"No, she's altogether different. I can't!"\ +\ +Natasha at that moment felt so softened and tender that it was not\ +enough for her to love and know she was beloved, she wanted now, at\ +once, to embrace the man she loved, to speak and hear from him words of\ +love such as filled her heart. While she sat in the carriage beside her\ +father, pensively watching the lights of the street lamps flickering on\ +the frozen window, she felt still sadder and more in love, and forgot\ +where she was going and with whom. Having fallen into the line of\ +carriages, the Rostovs' carriage drove up to the theater, its wheels\ +squeaking over the snow. Natasha and Sonya, holding up their dresses,\ +jumped out quickly. The count got out helped by the footmen, and,\ +passing among men and women who were entering and the program sellers,\ +they all three went along the corridor to the first row of boxes.\ +Through the closed doors the music was already audible.\ +\ +"Natasha, your hair!..." whispered Sonya.\ +\ +An attendant deferentially and quickly slipped before the ladies and\ +opened the door of their box. The music sounded louder and through the\ +door rows of brightly lit boxes in which ladies sat with bare arms and\ +shoulders, and noisy stalls brilliant with uniforms, glittered before\ +their eyes. A lady entering the next box shot a glance of feminine envy\ +at Natasha. The curtain had not yet risen and the overture was being\ +played. Natasha, smoothing her gown, went in with Sonya and sat down,\ +scanning the brilliant tiers of boxes opposite. A sensation she had not\ +experienced for a long time--that of hundreds of eyes looking at her\ +bare arms and neck--suddenly affected her both agreeably and\ +disagreeably and called up a whole crowd of memories, desires and\ +emotions associated with that feeling.\ +\ +The two remarkably pretty girls, Natasha and Sonya, with Count Rostov\ +who had not been seen in Moscow for a long time, attracted general\ +attention. Moreover, everybody knew vaguely of Natasha's engagement to\ +Prince Andrew, and knew that the Rostovs had lived in the country ever\ +since, and all looked with curiosity at a fiancee who was making one of\ +the best matches in Russia.\ +\ +Natasha's looks, as everyone told her, had improved in the country, and\ +that evening thanks to her agitation she was particularly pretty. She\ +struck those who saw her by her fullness of life and beauty, combined\ +with her indifference to everything about her. Her black eyes looked at\ +the crowd without seeking anyone, and her delicate arm, bare to above\ +the elbow, lay on the velvet edge of the box, while, evidently\ +unconsciously, she opened and closed her hand in time to the music,\ +crumpling her program. "Look, there's Alenina," said Sonya, "with her\ +mother, isn't it?"\ +\ +"Dear me, Michael Kirilovich has grown still stouter!" remarked the\ +count.\ +\ +"Look at our Anna Mikhaylovna--what a headdress she has on!"\ +\ +"The Karagins, Julie--and Boris with them. One can see at once that\ +they're engaged...."\ +\ +"Drubetskoy has proposed?"\ +\ +"Oh yes, I heard it today," said Shinshin, coming into the Rostovs' box.\ +\ +Natasha looked in the direction in which her father's eyes were turned\ +and saw Julie sitting beside her mother with a happy look on her face\ +and a string of pearls round her thick red neck--which Natasha knew was\ +covered with powder. Behind them, wearing a smile and leaning over with\ +an ear to Julie's mouth, was Boris' handsome smoothly brushed head. He\ +looked at the Rostovs from under his brows and said something, smiling,\ +to his betrothed.\ +\ +"They are talking about us, about me and him!" thought Natasha. "And he\ +no doubt is calming her jealousy of me. They needn't trouble themselves!\ +If only they knew how little I am concerned about any of them."\ +\ +Behind them sat Anna Mikhaylovna wearing a green headdress and with a\ +happy look of resignation to the will of God on her face. Their box was\ +pervaded by that atmosphere of an affianced couple which Natasha knew so\ +well and liked so much. She turned away and suddenly remembered all that\ +had been so humiliating in her morning's visit.\ +\ +"What right has he not to wish to receive me into his family? Oh, better\ +not think of it--not till he comes back!" she told herself, and began\ +looking at the faces, some strange and some familiar, in the stalls. In\ +the front, in the very center, leaning back against the orchestra rail,\ +stood Dolokhov in a Persian dress, his curly hair brushed up into a huge\ +shock. He stood in full view of the audience, well aware that he was\ +attracting everyone's attention, yet as much at ease as though he were\ +in his own room. Around him thronged Moscow's most brilliant young men,\ +whom he evidently dominated.\ +\ +The count, laughing, nudged the blushing Sonya and pointed to her former\ +adorer.\ +\ +"Do you recognize him?" said he. "And where has he sprung from?" he\ +asked, turning to Shinshin. "Didn't he vanish somewhere?"\ +\ +"He did," replied Shinshin. "He was in the Caucasus and ran away from\ +there. They say he has been acting as minister to some ruling prince in\ +Persia, where he killed the Shah's brother. Now all the Moscow ladies\ +are mad about him! It's 'Dolokhov the Persian' that does it! We never\ +hear a word but Dolokhov is mentioned. They swear by him, they offer him\ +to you as they would a dish of choice sterlet. Dolokhov and Anatole\ +Kuragin have turned all our ladies' heads."\ +\ +A tall, beautiful woman with a mass of plaited hair and much exposed\ +plump white shoulders and neck, round which she wore a double string of\ +large pearls, entered the adjoining box rustling her heavy silk dress\ +and took a long time settling into her place.\ +\ +Natasha involuntarily gazed at that neck, those shoulders, and pearls\ +and coiffure, and admired the beauty of the shoulders and the pearls.\ +While Natasha was fixing her gaze on her for the second time the lady\ +looked round and, meeting the count's eyes, nodded to him and smiled.\ +She was the Countess Bezukhova, Pierre's wife, and the count, who knew\ +everyone in society, leaned over and spoke to her.\ +\ +"Have you been here long, Countess?" he inquired. "I'll call, I'll call\ +to kiss your hand. I'm here on business and have brought my girls with\ +me. They say Semenova acts marvelously. Count Pierre never used to\ +forget us. Is he here?"\ +\ +"Yes, he meant to look in," answered Helene, and glanced attentively at\ +Natasha.\ +\ +Count Rostov resumed his seat.\ +\ +"Handsome, isn't she?" he whispered to Natasha.\ +\ +"Wonderful!" answered Natasha. "She's a woman one could easily fall in\ +love with."\ +\ +Just then the last chords of the overture were heard and the conductor\ +tapped with his stick. Some latecomers took their seats in the stalls,\ +and the curtain rose.\ +\ +As soon as it rose everyone in the boxes and stalls became silent, and\ +all the men, old and young, in uniform and evening dress, and all the\ +women with gems on their bare flesh, turned their whole attention with\ +eager curiosity to the stage. Natasha too began to look at it.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER IX\ +\ +The floor of the stage consisted of smooth boards, at the sides was some\ +painted cardboard representing trees, and at the back was a cloth\ +stretched over boards. In the center of the stage sat some girls in red\ +bodices and white skirts. One very fat girl in a white silk dress sat\ +apart on a low bench, to the back of which a piece of green cardboard\ +was glued. They all sang something. When they had finished their song\ +the girl in white went up to the prompter's box and a man with tight\ +silk trousers over his stout legs, and holding a plume and a dagger,\ +went up to her and began singing, waving his arms about.\ +\ +First the man in the tight trousers sang alone, then she sang, then they\ +both paused while the orchestra played and the man fingered the hand of\ +the girl in white, obviously awaiting the beat to start singing with\ +her. They sang together and everyone in the theater began clapping and\ +shouting, while the man and woman on the stage--who represented lovers--\ +began smiling, spreading out their arms, and bowing.\ +\ +After her life in the country, and in her present serious mood, all this\ +seemed grotesque and amazing to Natasha. She could not follow the opera\ +nor even listen to the music; she saw only the painted cardboard and the\ +queerly dressed men and women who moved, spoke, and sang so strangely in\ +that brilliant light. She knew what it was all meant to represent, but\ +it was so pretentiously false and unnatural that she first felt ashamed\ +for the actors and then amused at them. She looked at the faces of the\ +audience, seeking in them the same sense of ridicule and perplexity she\ +herself experienced, but they all seemed attentive to what was happening\ +on the stage, and expressed delight which to Natasha seemed feigned. "I\ +suppose it has to be like this!" she thought. She kept looking round in\ +turn at the rows of pomaded heads in the stalls and then at the seminude\ +women in the boxes, especially at Helene in the next box, who--\ +apparently quite unclothed--sat with a quiet tranquil smile, not taking\ +her eyes off the stage. And feeling the bright light that flooded the\ +whole place and the warm air heated by the crowd, Natasha little by\ +little began to pass into a state of intoxication she had not\ +experienced for a long while. She did not realize who and where she was,\ +nor what was going on before her. As she looked and thought, the\ +strangest fancies unexpectedly and disconnectedly passed through her\ +mind: the idea occurred to her of jumping onto the edge of the box and\ +singing the air the actress was singing, then she wished to touch with\ +her fan an old gentleman sitting not far from her, then to lean over to\ +Helene and tickle her.\ +\ +At a moment when all was quiet before the commencement of a song, a door\ +leading to the stalls on the side nearest the Rostovs' box creaked, and\ +the steps of a belated arrival were heard. "There's Kuragin!" whispered\ +Shinshin. Countess Bezukhova turned smiling to the newcomer, and\ +Natasha, following the direction of that look, saw an exceptionally\ +handsome adjutant approaching their box with a self-assured yet\ +courteous bearing. This was Anatole Kuragin whom she had seen and\ +noticed long ago at the ball in Petersburg. He was now in an adjutant's\ +uniform with one epaulet and a shoulder knot. He moved with a restrained\ +swagger which would have been ridiculous had he not been so good-looking\ +and had his handsome face not worn such an expression of good-humored\ +complacency and gaiety. Though the performance was proceeding, he walked\ +deliberately down the carpeted gangway, his sword and spurs slightly\ +jingling and his handsome perfumed head held high. Having looked at\ +Natasha he approached his sister, laid his well gloved hand on the edge\ +of her box, nodded to her, and leaning forward asked a question, with a\ +motion toward Natasha.\ +\ +"Mais charmante!" said he, evidently referring to Natasha, who did not\ +exactly hear his words but understood them from the movement of his\ +lips. Then he took his place in the first row of the stalls and sat down\ +beside Dolokhov, nudging with his elbow in a friendly and offhand way\ +that Dolokhov whom others treated so fawningly. He winked at him gaily,\ +smiled, and rested his foot against the orchestra screen.\ +\ +"How like the brother is to the sister," remarked the count. "And how\ +handsome they both are!"\ +\ +Shinshin, lowering his voice, began to tell the count of some intrigue\ +of Kuragin's in Moscow, and Natasha tried to overhear it just because he\ +had said she was "charmante."\ +\ +The first act was over. In the stalls everyone began moving about, going\ +out and coming in.\ +\ +Boris came to the Rostovs' box, received their congratulations very\ +simply, and raising his eyebrows with an absent-minded smile conveyed to\ +Natasha and Sonya his fiancee's invitation to her wedding, and went\ +away. Natasha with a gay, coquettish smile talked to him, and\ +congratulated on his approaching wedding that same Boris with whom she\ +had formerly been in love. In the state of intoxication she was in,\ +everything seemed simple and natural.\ +\ +The scantily clad Helene smiled at everyone in the same way, and Natasha\ +gave Boris a similar smile.\ +\ +Helene's box was filled and surrounded from the stalls by the most\ +distinguished and intellectual men, who seemed to vie with one another\ +in their wish to let everyone see that they knew her.\ +\ +During the whole of that entr'acte Kuragin stood with Dolokhov in front\ +of the orchestra partition, looking at the Rostovs' box. Natasha knew he\ +was talking about her and this afforded her pleasure. She even turned so\ +that he should see her profile in what she thought was its most becoming\ +aspect. Before the beginning of the second act Pierre appeared in the\ +stalls. The Rostovs had not seen him since their arrival. His face\ +looked sad, and he had grown still stouter since Natasha last saw him.\ +He passed up to the front rows, not noticing anyone. Anatole went up to\ +him and began speaking to him, looking at and indicating the Rostovs'\ +box. On seeing Natasha Pierre grew animated and, hastily passing between\ +the rows, came toward their box. When he got there he leaned on his\ +elbows and, smiling, talked to her for a long time. While conversing\ +with Pierre, Natasha heard a man's voice in Countess Bezukhova's box and\ +something told her it was Kuragin. She turned and their eyes met. Almost\ +smiling, he gazed straight into her eyes with such an enraptured\ +caressing look that it seemed strange to be so near him, to look at him\ +like that, to be so sure he admired her, and not to be acquainted with\ +him.\ +\ +In the second act there was scenery representing tombstones, there was a\ +round hole in the canvas to represent the moon, shades were raised over\ +the footlights, and from horns and contrabass came deep notes while many\ +people appeared from right and left wearing black cloaks and holding\ +things like daggers in their hands. They began waving their arms. Then\ +some other people ran in and began dragging away the maiden who had been\ +in white and was now in light blue. They did not drag her away at once,\ +but sang with her for a long time and then at last dragged her off, and\ +behind the scenes something metallic was struck three times and everyone\ +knelt down and sang a prayer. All these things were repeatedly\ +interrupted by the enthusiastic shouts of the audience.\ +\ +During this act every time Natasha looked toward the stalls she saw\ +Anatole Kuragin with an arm thrown across the back of his chair, staring\ +at her. She was pleased to see that he was captivated by her and it did\ +not occur to her that there was anything wrong in it.\ +\ +When the second act was over Countess Bezukhova rose, turned to the\ +Rostovs' box--her whole bosom completely exposed--beckoned the old count\ +with a gloved finger, and paying no attention to those who had entered\ +her box began talking to him with an amiable smile.\ +\ +"Do make me acquainted with your charming daughters," said she. "The\ +whole town is singing their praises and I don't even know them!"\ +\ +Natasha rose and curtsied to the splendid countess. She was so pleased\ +by praise from this brilliant beauty that she blushed with pleasure.\ +\ +"I want to become a Moscovite too, now," said Helene. "How is it you're\ +not ashamed to bury such pearls in the country?"\ +\ +Countess Bezukhova quite deserved her reputation of being a fascinating\ +woman. She could say what she did not think--especially what was\ +flattering--quite simply and naturally.\ +\ +"Dear count, you must let me look after your daughters! Though I am not\ +staying here long this time--nor are you--I will try to amuse them. I\ +have already heard much of you in Petersburg and wanted to get to know\ +you," said she to Natasha with her stereotyped and lovely smile. "I had\ +heard about you from my page, Drubetskoy. Have you heard he is getting\ +married? And also from my husband's friend Bolkonski, Prince Andrew\ +Bolkonski," she went on with special emphasis, implying that she knew of\ +his relation to Natasha. To get better acquainted she asked that one of\ +the young ladies should come into her box for the rest of the\ +performance, and Natasha moved over to it.\ +\ +The scene of the third act represented a palace in which many candles\ +were burning and pictures of knights with short beards hung on the\ +walls. In the middle stood what were probably a king and a queen. The\ +king waved his right arm and, evidently nervous, sang something badly\ +and sat down on a crimson throne. The maiden who had been first in white\ +and then in light blue, now wore only a smock, and stood beside the\ +throne with her hair down. She sang something mournfully, addressing the\ +queen, but the king waved his arm severely, and men and women with bare\ +legs came in from both sides and began dancing all together. Then the\ +violins played very shrilly and merrily and one of the women with thick\ +bare legs and thin arms, separating from the others, went behind the\ +wings, adjusted her bodice, returned to the middle of the stage, and\ +began jumping and striking one foot rapidly against the other. In the\ +stalls everyone clapped and shouted "bravo!" Then one of the men went\ +into a corner of the stage. The cymbals and horns in the orchestra\ +struck up more loudly, and this man with bare legs jumped very high and\ +waved his feet about very rapidly. (He was Duport, who received sixty\ +thousand rubles a year for this art.) Everybody in the stalls, boxes,\ +and galleries began clapping and shouting with all their might, and the\ +man stopped and began smiling and bowing to all sides. Then other men\ +and women danced with bare legs. Then the king again shouted to the\ +sound of music, and they all began singing. But suddenly a storm came\ +on, chromatic scales and diminished sevenths were heard in the\ +orchestra, everyone ran off, again dragging one of their number away,\ +and the curtain dropped. Once more there was a terrible noise and\ +clatter among the audience, and with rapturous faces everyone began\ +shouting: "Duport! Duport! Duport!" Natasha no longer thought this\ +strange. She looked about with pleasure, smiling joyfully.\ +\ +"Isn't Duport delightful?" Helene asked her.\ +\ +"Oh, yes," replied Natasha.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER X\ +\ +During the entr'acte a whiff of cold air came into Helene's box, the\ +door opened, and Anatole entered, stooping and trying not to brush\ +against anyone.\ +\ +"Let me introduce my brother to you," said Helene, her eyes shifting\ +uneasily from Natasha to Anatole.\ +\ +Natasha turned her pretty little head toward the elegant young officer\ +and smiled at him over her bare shoulder. Anatole, who was as handsome\ +at close quarters as at a distance, sat down beside her and told her he\ +had long wished to have this happiness--ever since the Naryshkins' ball\ +in fact, at which he had had the well-remembered pleasure of seeing her.\ +Kuragin was much more sensible and simple with women than among men. He\ +talked boldly and naturally, and Natasha was strangely and agreeably\ +struck by the fact that there was nothing formidable in this man about\ +whom there was so much talk, but that on the contrary his smile was most\ +naive, cheerful, and good-natured.\ +\ +Kuragin asked her opinion of the performance and told her how at a\ +previous performance Semenova had fallen down on the stage.\ +\ +"And do you know, Countess," he said, suddenly addressing her as an old,\ +familiar acquaintance, "we are getting up a costume tournament; you\ +ought to take part in it! It will be great fun. We shall all meet at the\ +Karagins'! Please come! No! Really, eh?" said he.\ +\ +While saying this he never removed his smiling eyes from her face, her\ +neck, and her bare arms. Natasha knew for certain that he was enraptured\ +by her. This pleased her, yet his presence made her feel constrained and\ +oppressed. When she was not looking at him she felt that he was looking\ +at her shoulders, and she involuntarily caught his eye so that he should\ +look into hers rather than this. But looking into his eyes she was\ +frightened, realizing that there was not that barrier of modesty she had\ +always felt between herself and other men. She did not know how it was\ +that within five minutes she had come to feel herself terribly near to\ +this man. When she turned away she feared he might seize her from behind\ +by her bare arm and kiss her on the neck. They spoke of most ordinary\ +things, yet she felt that they were closer to one another than she had\ +ever been to any man. Natasha kept turning to Helene and to her father,\ +as if asking what it all meant, but Helene was engaged in conversation\ +with a general and did not answer her look, and her father's eyes said\ +nothing but what they always said: "Having a good time? Well, I'm glad\ +of it!"\ +\ +During one of these moments of awkward silence when Anatole's prominent\ +eyes were gazing calmly and fixedly at her, Natasha, to break the\ +silence, asked him how he liked Moscow. She asked the question and\ +blushed. She felt all the time that by talking to him she was doing\ +something improper. Anatole smiled as though to encourage her.\ +\ +"At first I did not like it much, because what makes a town pleasant ce\ +sont les jolies femmes, * isn't that so? But now I like it very much\ +indeed," he said, looking at her significantly. "You'll come to the\ +costume tournament, Countess? Do come!" and putting out his hand to her\ +bouquet and dropping his voice, he added, "You will be the prettiest\ +there. Do come, dear countess, and give me this flower as a pledge!"\ +\ +\ +* Are the pretty women.\ +\ +Natasha did not understand what he was saying any more than he did\ +himself, but she felt that his incomprehensible words had an improper\ +intention. She did not know what to say and turned away as if she had\ +not heard his remark. But as soon as she had turned away she felt that\ +he was there, behind, so close behind her.\ +\ +"How is he now? Confused? Angry? Ought I to put it right?" she asked\ +herself, and she could not refrain from turning round. She looked\ +straight into his eyes, and his nearness, self-assurance, and the good-\ +natured tenderness of his smile vanquished her. She smiled just as he\ +was doing, gazing straight into his eyes. And again she felt with horror\ +that no barrier lay between him and her.\ +\ +The curtain rose again. Anatole left the box, serene and gay. Natasha\ +went back to her father in the other box, now quite submissive to the\ +world she found herself in. All that was going on before her now seemed\ +quite natural, but on the other hand all her previous thoughts of her\ +betrothed, of Princess Mary, or of life in the country did not once\ +recur to her mind and were as if belonging to a remote past.\ +\ +In the fourth act there was some sort of devil who sang waving his arm\ +about, till the boards were withdrawn from under him and he disappeared\ +down below. That was the only part of the fourth act that Natasha saw.\ +She felt agitated and tormented, and the cause of this was Kuragin whom\ +she could not help watching. As they were leaving the theater Anatole\ +came up to them, called their carriage, and helped them in. As he was\ +putting Natasha in he pressed her arm above the elbow. Agitated and\ +flushed she turned round. He was looking at her with glittering eyes,\ +smiling tenderly.\ +\ +Only after she had reached home was Natasha able clearly to think over\ +what had happened to her, and suddenly remembering Prince Andrew she was\ +horrified, and at tea to which all had sat down after the opera, she\ +gave a loud exclamation, flushed, and ran out of the room.\ +\ +"O God! I am lost!" she said to herself. "How could I let him?" She sat\ +for a long time hiding her flushed face in her hands trying to realize\ +what had happened to her, but was unable either to understand what had\ +happened or what she felt. Everything seemed dark, obscure, and\ +terrible. There in that enormous, illuminated theater where the bare-\ +legged Duport, in a tinsel-decorated jacket, jumped about to the music\ +on wet boards, and young girls and old men, and the nearly naked Helene\ +with her proud, calm smile, rapturously cried "bravo!"--there in the\ +presence of that Helene it had all seemed clear and simple; but now,\ +alone by herself, it was incomprehensible. "What is it? What was that\ +terror I felt of him? What is this gnawing of conscience I am feeling\ +now?" she thought.\ +\ +Only to the old countess at night in bed could Natasha have told all she\ +was feeling. She knew that Sonya with her severe and simple views would\ +either not understand it at all or would be horrified at such a\ +confession. So Natasha tried to solve what was torturing her by herself.\ +\ +"Am I spoiled for Andrew's love or not?" she asked herself, and with\ +soothing irony replied: "What a fool I am to ask that! What did happen\ +to me? Nothing! I have done nothing, I didn't lead him on at all. Nobody\ +will know and I shall never see him again," she told herself. "So it is\ +plain that nothing has happened and there is nothing to repent of, and\ +Andrew can love me still. But why 'still?' O God, why isn't he here?"\ +Natasha quieted herself for a moment, but again some instinct told her\ +that though all this was true, and though nothing had happened, yet the\ +former purity of her love for Prince Andrew had perished. And again in\ +imagination she went over her whole conversation with Kuragin, and again\ +saw the face, gestures, and tender smile of that bold handsome man when\ +he pressed her arm.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XI\ +\ +Anatole Kuragin was staying in Moscow because his father had sent him\ +away from Petersburg, where he had been spending twenty thousand rubles\ +a year in cash, besides running up debts for as much more, which his\ +creditors demanded from his father.\ +\ +His father announced to him that he would now pay half his debts for the\ +last time, but only on condition that he went to Moscow as adjutant to\ +the commander-in-chief--a post his father had procured for him--and\ +would at last try to make a good match there. He indicated to him\ +Princess Mary and Julie Karagina.\ +\ +Anatole consented and went to Moscow, where he put up at Pierre's house.\ +Pierre received him unwillingly at first, but got used to him after a\ +while, sometimes even accompanied him on his carousals, and gave him\ +money under the guise of loans.\ +\ +As Shinshin had remarked, from the time of his arrival Anatole had\ +turned the heads of the Moscow ladies, especially by the fact that he\ +slighted them and plainly preferred the gypsy girls and French\ +actresses--with the chief of whom, Mademoiselle George, he was said to\ +be on intimate relations. He had never missed a carousal at Danilov's or\ +other Moscow revelers', drank whole nights through, outvying everyone\ +else, and was at all the balls and parties of the best society. There\ +was talk of his intrigues with some of the ladies, and he flirted with a\ +few of them at the balls. But he did not run after the unmarried girls,\ +especially the rich heiresses who were most of them plain. There was a\ +special reason for this, as he had got married two years before--a fact\ +known only to his most intimate friends. At that time while with his\ +regiment in Poland, a Polish landowner of small means had forced him to\ +marry his daughter. Anatole had very soon abandoned his wife and, for a\ +payment which he agreed to send to his father-in-law, had arranged to be\ +free to pass himself off as a bachelor.\ +\ +Anatole was always content with his position, with himself, and with\ +others. He was instinctively and thoroughly convinced that it was\ +impossible for him to live otherwise than as he did and that he had\ +never in his life done anything base. He was incapable of considering\ +how his actions might affect others or what the consequences of this or\ +that action of his might be. He was convinced that, as a duck is so made\ +that it must live in water, so God had made him such that he must spend\ +thirty thousand rubles a year and always occupy a prominent position in\ +society. He believed this so firmly that others, looking at him, were\ +persuaded of it too and did not refuse him either a leading place in\ +society or money, which he borrowed from anyone and everyone and\ +evidently would not repay.\ +\ +He was not a gambler, at any rate he did not care about winning. He was\ +not vain. He did not mind what people thought of him. Still less could\ +he be accused of ambition. More than once he had vexed his father by\ +spoiling his own career, and he laughed at distinctions of all kinds. He\ +was not mean, and did not refuse anyone who asked of him. All he cared\ +about was gaiety and women, and as according to his ideas there was\ +nothing dishonorable in these tastes, and he was incapable of\ +considering what the gratification of his tastes entailed for others, he\ +honestly considered himself irreproachable, sincerely despised rogues\ +and bad people, and with a tranquil conscience carried his head high.\ +\ +Rakes, those male Magdalenes, have a secret feeling of innocence similar\ +to that which female Magdalenes have, based on the same hope of\ +forgiveness. "All will be forgiven her, for she loved much; and all will\ +be forgiven him, for he enjoyed much."\ +\ +Dolokhov, who had reappeared that year in Moscow after his exile and his\ +Persian adventures, and was leading a life of luxury, gambling, and\ +dissipation, associated with his old Petersburg comrade Kuragin and made\ +use of him for his own ends.\ +\ +Anatole was sincerely fond of Dolokhov for his cleverness and audacity.\ +Dolokhov, who needed Anatole Kuragin's name, position, and connections\ +as a bait to draw rich young men into his gambling set, made use of him\ +and amused himself at his expense without letting the other feel it.\ +Apart from the advantage he derived from Anatole, the very process of\ +dominating another's will was in itself a pleasure, a habit, and a\ +necessity to Dolokhov.\ +\ +Natasha had made a strong impression on Kuragin. At supper after the\ +opera he described to Dolokhov with the air of a connoisseur the\ +attractions of her arms, shoulders, feet, and hair and expressed his\ +intention of making love to her. Anatole had no notion and was incapable\ +of considering what might come of such love-making, as he never had any\ +notion of the outcome of any of his actions.\ +\ +"She's first-rate, my dear fellow, but not for us," replied Dolokhov.\ +\ +"I will tell my sister to ask her to dinner," said Anatole. "Eh?"\ +\ +"You'd better wait till she's married...."\ +\ +"You know, I adore little girls, they lose their heads at once," pursued\ +Anatole.\ +\ +"You have been caught once already by a 'little girl,'" said Dolokhov\ +who knew of Kuragin's marriage. "Take care!"\ +\ +"Well, that can't happen twice! Eh?" said Anatole, with a good-humored\ +laugh.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XII\ +\ +The day after the opera the Rostovs went nowhere and nobody came to see\ +them. Marya Dmitrievna talked to the count about something which they\ +concealed from Natasha. Natasha guessed they were talking about the old\ +prince and planning something, and this disquieted and offended her. She\ +was expecting Prince Andrew any moment and twice that day sent a\ +manservant to the Vozdvizhenka to ascertain whether he had come. He had\ +not arrived. She suffered more now than during her first days in Moscow.\ +To her impatience and pining for him were now added the unpleasant\ +recollection of her interview with Princess Mary and the old prince, and\ +a fear and anxiety of which she did not understand the cause. She\ +continually fancied that either he would never come or that something\ +would happen to her before he came. She could no longer think of him by\ +herself calmly and continuously as she had done before. As soon as she\ +began to think of him, the recollection of the old prince, of Princess\ +Mary, of the theater, and of Kuragin mingled with her thoughts. The\ +question again presented itself whether she was not guilty, whether she\ +had not already broken faith with Prince Andrew, and again she found\ +herself recalling to the minutest detail every word, every gesture, and\ +every shade in the play of expression on the face of the man who had\ +been able to arouse in her such an incomprehensible and terrifying\ +feeling. To the family Natasha seemed livelier than usual, but she was\ +far less tranquil and happy than before.\ +\ +On Sunday morning Marya Dmitrievna invited her visitors to Mass at her\ +parish church--the Church of the Assumption built over the graves of\ +victims of the plague.\ +\ +"I don't like those fashionable churches," she said, evidently priding\ +herself on her independence of thought. "God is the same everywhere. We\ +have an excellent priest, he conducts the service decently and with\ +dignity, and the deacon is the same. What holiness is there in giving\ +concerts in the choir? I don't like it, it's just self-indulgence!"\ +\ +Marya Dmitrievna liked Sundays and knew how to keep them. Her whole\ +house was scrubbed and cleaned on Saturdays; neither she nor the\ +servants worked, and they all wore holiday dress and went to church. At\ +her table there were extra dishes at dinner, and the servants had vodka\ +and roast goose or suckling pig. But in nothing in the house was the\ +holiday so noticeable as in Marya Dmitrievna's broad, stern face, which\ +on that day wore an invariable look of solemn festivity.\ +\ +After Mass, when they had finished their coffee in the dining room where\ +the loose covers had been removed from the furniture, a servant\ +announced that the carriage was ready, and Marya Dmitrievna rose with a\ +stern air. She wore her holiday shawl, in which she paid calls, and\ +announced that she was going to see Prince Nicholas Bolkonski to have an\ +explanation with him about Natasha.\ +\ +After she had gone, a dressmaker from Madame Suppert-Roguet waited on\ +the Rostovs, and Natasha, very glad of this diversion, having shut\ +herself into a room adjoining the drawing room, occupied herself trying\ +on the new dresses. Just as she had put on a bodice without sleeves and\ +only tacked together, and was turning her head to see in the glass how\ +the back fitted, she heard in the drawing room the animated sounds of\ +her father's voice and another's--a woman's--that made her flush. It was\ +Helene. Natasha had not time to take off the bodice before the door\ +opened and Countess Bezukhova, dressed in a purple velvet gown with a\ +high collar, came into the room beaming with good-humored amiable\ +smiles.\ +\ +"Oh, my enchantress!" she cried to the blushing Natasha. "Charming! No,\ +this is really beyond anything, my dear count," said she to Count Rostov\ +who had followed her in. "How can you live in Moscow and go nowhere? No,\ +I won't let you off! Mademoiselle George will recite at my house tonight\ +and there'll be some people, and if you don't bring your lovely girls--\ +who are prettier than Mademoiselle George--I won't know you! My husband\ +is away in Tver or I would send him to fetch you. You must come. You\ +positively must! Between eight and nine."\ +\ +She nodded to the dressmaker, whom she knew and who had curtsied\ +respectfully to her, and seated herself in an armchair beside the\ +looking glass, draping the folds of her velvet dress picturesquely. She\ +did not cease chattering good-naturedly and gaily, continually praising\ +Natasha's beauty. She looked at Natasha's dresses and praised them, as\ +well as a new dress of her own made of "metallic gauze," which she had\ +received from Paris, and advised Natasha to have one like it.\ +\ +"But anything suits you, my charmer!" she remarked.\ +\ +A smile of pleasure never left Natasha's face. She felt happy and as if\ +she were blossoming under the praise of this dear Countess Bezukhova who\ +had formerly seemed to her so unapproachable and important and was now\ +so kind to her. Natasha brightened up and felt almost in love with this\ +woman, who was so beautiful and so kind. Helene for her part was\ +sincerely delighted with Natasha and wished to give her a good time.\ +Anatole had asked her to bring him and Natasha together, and she was\ +calling on the Rostovs for that purpose. The idea of throwing her\ +brother and Natasha together amused her.\ +\ +Though at one time, in Petersburg, she had been annoyed with Natasha for\ +drawing Boris away, she did not think of that now, and in her own way\ +heartily wished Natasha well. As she was leaving the Rostovs she called\ +her protegee aside.\ +\ +"My brother dined with me yesterday--we nearly died of laughter--he ate\ +nothing and kept sighing for you, my charmer! He is madly, quite madly,\ +in love with you, my dear."\ +\ +Natasha blushed scarlet when she heard this.\ +\ +"How she blushes, how she blushes, my pretty!" said Helene. "You must\ +certainly come. If you love somebody, my charmer, that is not a reason\ +to shut yourself up. Even if you are engaged, I am sure your fiance\ +would wish you to go into society rather than be bored to death."\ +\ +"So she knows I am engaged, and she and her husband Pierre--that good\ +Pierre--have talked and laughed about this. So it's all right." And\ +again, under Helene's influence, what had seemed terrible now seemed\ +simple and natural. "And she is such a grande dame, so kind, and\ +evidently likes me so much. And why not enjoy myself?" thought Natasha,\ +gazing at Helene with wide-open, wondering eyes.\ +\ +Marya Dmitrievna came back to dinner taciturn and serious, having\ +evidently suffered a defeat at the old prince's. She was still too\ +agitated by the encounter to be able to talk of the affair calmly. In\ +answer to the count's inquiries she replied that things were all right\ +and that she would tell about it next day. On hearing of Countess\ +Bezukhova's visit and the invitation for that evening, Marya Dmitrievna\ +remarked:\ +\ +"I don't care to have anything to do with Bezukhova and don't advise you\ +to; however, if you've promised--go. It will divert your thoughts," she\ +added, addressing Natasha.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XIII\ +\ +Count Rostov took the girls to Countess Bezukhova's. There were a good\ +many people there, but nearly all strangers to Natasha. Count Rostov was\ +displeased to see that the company consisted almost entirely of men and\ +women known for the freedom of their conduct. Mademoiselle George was\ +standing in a corner of the drawing room surrounded by young men. There\ +were several Frenchmen present, among them Metivier who from the time\ +Helene reached Moscow had been an intimate in her house. The count\ +decided not to sit down to cards or let his girls out of his sight and\ +to get away as soon as Mademoiselle George's performance was over.\ +\ +Anatole was at the door, evidently on the lookout for the Rostovs.\ +Immediately after greeting the count he went up to Natasha and followed\ +her. As soon as she saw him she was seized by the same feeling she had\ +had at the opera--gratified vanity at his admiration of her and fear at\ +the absence of a moral barrier between them.\ +\ +Helene welcomed Natasha delightedly and was loud in admiration of her\ +beauty and her dress. Soon after their arrival Mademoiselle George went\ +out of the room to change her costume. In the drawing room people began\ +arranging the chairs and taking their seats. Anatole moved a chair for\ +Natasha and was about to sit down beside her, but the count, who never\ +lost sight of her, took the seat himself. Anatole sat down behind her.\ +\ +Mademoiselle George, with her bare, fat, dimpled arms, and a red shawl\ +draped over one shoulder, came into the space left vacant for her, and\ +assumed an unnatural pose. Enthusiastic whispering was audible.\ +\ +Mademoiselle George looked sternly and gloomily at the audience and\ +began reciting some French verses describing her guilty love for her\ +son. In some places she raised her voice, in others she whispered,\ +lifting her head triumphantly; sometimes she paused and uttered hoarse\ +sounds, rolling her eyes.\ +\ +"Adorable! divine! delicious!" was heard from every side.\ +\ +Natasha looked at the fat actress, but neither saw nor heard nor\ +understood anything of what went on before her. She only felt herself\ +again completely borne away into this strange senseless world--so remote\ +from her old world--a world in which it was impossible to know what was\ +good or bad, reasonable or senseless. Behind her sat Anatole, and\ +conscious of his proximity she experienced a frightened sense of\ +expectancy.\ +\ +After the first monologue the whole company rose and surrounded\ +Mademoiselle George, expressing their enthusiasm.\ +\ +"How beautiful she is!" Natasha remarked to her father who had also\ +risen and was moving through the crowd toward the actress.\ +\ +"I don't think so when I look at you!" said Anatole, following Natasha.\ +He said this at a moment when she alone could hear him. "You are\ +enchanting... from the moment I saw you I have never ceased..."\ +\ +"Come, come, Natasha!" said the count, as he turned back for his\ +daughter. "How beautiful she is!" Natasha without saying anything\ +stepped up to her father and looked at him with surprised inquiring\ +eyes.\ +\ +After giving several recitations, Mademoiselle George left, and Countess\ +Bezukhova asked her visitors into the ballroom.\ +\ +The count wished to go home, but Helene entreated him not to spoil her\ +improvised ball, and the Rostovs stayed on. Anatole asked Natasha for a\ +valse and as they danced he pressed her waist and hand and told her she\ +was bewitching and that he loved her. During the ecossaise, which she\ +also danced with him, Anatole said nothing when they happened to be by\ +themselves, but merely gazed at her. Natasha lifted her frightened eyes\ +to him, but there was such confident tenderness in his affectionate look\ +and smile that she could not, whilst looking at him, say what she had to\ +say. She lowered her eyes.\ +\ +"Don't say such things to me. I am betrothed and love another," she said\ +rapidly.... She glanced at him.\ +\ +Anatole was not upset or pained by what she had said.\ +\ +"Don't speak to me of that! What can I do?" said he. "I tell you I am\ +madly, madly, in love with you! Is it my fault that you are\ +enchanting?... It's our turn to begin."\ +\ +Natasha, animated and excited, looked about her with wide-open\ +frightened eyes and seemed merrier than usual. She understood hardly\ +anything that went on that evening. They danced the ecossaise and the\ +Grossvater. Her father asked her to come home, but she begged to remain.\ +Wherever she went and whomever she was speaking to, she felt his eyes\ +upon her. Later on she recalled how she had asked her father to let her\ +go to the dressing room to rearrange her dress, that Helene had followed\ +her and spoken laughingly of her brother's love, and that she again met\ +Anatole in the little sitting room. Helene had disappeared leaving them\ +alone, and Anatole had taken her hand and said in a tender voice:\ +\ +"I cannot come to visit you but is it possible that I shall never see\ +you? I love you madly. Can I never...?" and, blocking her path, he\ +brought his face close to hers.\ +\ +His large, glittering, masculine eyes were so close to hers that she saw\ +nothing but them.\ +\ +"Natalie?" he whispered inquiringly while she felt her hands being\ +painfully pressed. "Natalie?"\ +\ +"I don't understand. I have nothing to say," her eyes replied.\ +\ +Burning lips were pressed to hers, and at the same instant she felt\ +herself released, and Helene's footsteps and the rustle of her dress\ +were heard in the room. Natasha looked round at her, and then, red and\ +trembling, threw a frightened look of inquiry at Anatole and moved\ +toward the door.\ +\ +"One word, just one, for God's sake!" cried Anatole.\ +\ +She paused. She so wanted a word from him that would explain to her what\ +had happened and to which she could find no answer.\ +\ +"Natalie, just a word, only one!" he kept repeating, evidently not\ +knowing what to say and he repeated it till Helene came up to them.\ +\ +Helene returned with Natasha to the drawing room. The Rostovs went away\ +without staying for supper.\ +\ +After reaching home Natasha did not sleep all night. She was tormented\ +by the insoluble question whether she loved Anatole or Prince Andrew.\ +She loved Prince Andrew--she remembered distinctly how deeply she loved\ +him. But she also loved Anatole, of that there was no doubt. "Else how\ +could all this have happened?" thought she. "If, after that, I could\ +return his smile when saying good-by, if I was able to let it come to\ +that, it means that I loved him from the first. It means that he is\ +kind, noble, and splendid, and I could not help loving him. What am I to\ +do if I love him and the other one too?" she asked herself, unable to\ +find an answer to these terrible questions.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XIV\ +\ +Morning came with its cares and bustle. Everyone got up and began to\ +move about and talk, dressmakers came again. Marya Dmitrievna appeared,\ +and they were called to breakfast. Natasha kept looking uneasily at\ +everybody with wide-open eyes, as if wishing to intercept every glance\ +directed toward her, and tried to appear the same as usual.\ +\ +After breakfast, which was her best time, Marya Dmitrievna sat down in\ +her armchair and called Natasha and the count to her.\ +\ +"Well, friends, I have now thought the whole matter over and this is my\ +advice," she began. "Yesterday, as you know, I went to see Prince\ +Bolkonski. Well, I had a talk with him.... He took it into his head to\ +begin shouting, but I am not one to be shouted down. I said what I had\ +to say!"\ +\ +"Well, and he?" asked the count.\ +\ +"He? He's crazy... he did not want to listen. But what's the use of\ +talking? As it is we have worn the poor girl out," said Marya\ +Dmitrievna. "My advice to you is finish your business and go back home\ +to Otradnoe... and wait there."\ +\ +"Oh, no!" exclaimed Natasha.\ +\ +"Yes, go back," said Marya Dmitrievna, "and wait there. If your\ +betrothed comes here now--there will be no avoiding a quarrel; but alone\ +with the old man he will talk things over and then come on to you."\ +\ +Count Rostov approved of this suggestion, appreciating its\ +reasonableness. If the old man came round it would be all the better to\ +visit him in Moscow or at Bald Hills later on; and if not, the wedding,\ +against his wishes, could only be arranged at Otradnoe.\ +\ +"That is perfectly true. And I am sorry I went to see him and took her,"\ +said the old count.\ +\ +"No, why be sorry? Being here, you had to pay your respects. But if he\ +won't--that's his affair," said Marya Dmitrievna, looking for something\ +in her reticule. "Besides, the trousseau is ready, so there is nothing\ +to wait for; and what is not ready I'll send after you. Though I don't\ +like letting you go, it is the best way. So go, with God's blessing!"\ +\ +Having found what she was looking for in the reticule she handed it to\ +Natasha. It was a letter from Princess Mary.\ +\ +"She has written to you. How she torments herself, poor thing! She's\ +afraid you might think that she does not like you."\ +\ +"But she doesn't like me," said Natasha.\ +\ +"Don't talk nonsense!" cried Marya Dmitrievna.\ +\ +"I shan't believe anyone, I know she doesn't like me," replied Natasha\ +boldly as she took the letter, and her face expressed a cold and angry\ +resolution that caused Marya Dmitrievna to look at her more intently and\ +to frown.\ +\ +"Don't answer like that, my good girl!" she said. "What I say is true!\ +Write an answer!" Natasha did not reply and went to her own room to read\ +Princess Mary's letter.\ +\ +Princess Mary wrote that she was in despair at the misunderstanding that\ +had occurred between them. Whatever her father's feelings might be, she\ +begged Natasha to believe that she could not help loving her as the one\ +chosen by her brother, for whose happiness she was ready to sacrifice\ +everything.\ +\ +"Do not think, however," she wrote, "that my father is ill-disposed\ +toward you. He is an invalid and an old man who must be forgiven; but he\ +is good and magnanimous and will love her who makes his son happy."\ +Princess Mary went on to ask Natasha to fix a time when she could see\ +her again.\ +\ +After reading the letter Natasha sat down at the writing table to answer\ +it. "Dear Princess," she wrote in French quickly and mechanically, and\ +then paused. What more could she write after all that had happened the\ +evening before? "Yes, yes! All that has happened, and now all is\ +changed," she thought as she sat with the letter she had begun before\ +her. "Must I break off with him? Must I really? That's awful..." and to\ +escape from these dreadful thoughts she went to Sonya and began sorting\ +patterns with her.\ +\ +After dinner Natasha went to her room and again took up Princess Mary's\ +letter. "Can it be that it is all over?" she thought. "Can it be that\ +all this has happened so quickly and has destroyed all that went\ +before?" She recalled her love for Prince Andrew in all its former\ +strength, and at the same time felt that she loved Kuragin. She vividly\ +pictured herself as Prince Andrew's wife, and the scenes of happiness\ +with him she had so often repeated in her imagination, and at the same\ +time, aglow with excitement, recalled every detail of yesterday's\ +interview with Anatole.\ +\ +"Why could that not be as well?" she sometimes asked herself in complete\ +bewilderment. "Only so could I be completely happy; but now I have to\ +choose, and I can't be happy without either of them. Only," she thought,\ +"to tell Prince Andrew what has happened or to hide it from him are both\ +equally impossible. But with that one nothing is spoiled. But am I\ +really to abandon forever the joy of Prince Andrew's love, in which I\ +have lived so long?"\ +\ +"Please, Miss!" whispered a maid entering the room with a mysterious\ +air. "A man told me to give you this-" and she handed Natasha a letter.\ +\ +"Only, for Christ's sake..." the girl went on, as Natasha, without\ +thinking, mechanically broke the seal and read a love letter from\ +Anatole, of which, without taking in a word, she understood only that it\ +was a letter from him--from the man she loved. Yes, she loved him, or\ +else how could that have happened which had happened? And how could she\ +have a love letter from him in her hand?\ +\ +With trembling hands Natasha held that passionate love letter which\ +Dolokhov had composed for Anatole, and as she read it she found in it an\ +echo of all that she herself imagined she was feeling.\ +\ +"Since yesterday evening my fate has been sealed; to be loved by you or\ +to die. There is no other way for me," the letter began. Then he went on\ +to say that he knew her parents would not give her to him--for this\ +there were secret reasons he could reveal only to her--but that if she\ +loved him she need only say the word yes, and no human power could\ +hinder their bliss. Love would conquer all. He would steal her away and\ +carry her off to the ends of the earth.\ +\ +"Yes, yes! I love him!" thought Natasha, reading the letter for the\ +twentieth time and finding some peculiarly deep meaning in each word of\ +it.\ +\ +That evening Marya Dmitrievna was going to the Akharovs' and proposed to\ +take the girls with her. Natasha, pleading a headache, remained at home.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XV\ +\ +On returning late in the evening Sonya went to Natasha's room, and to\ +her surprise found her still dressed and asleep on the sofa. Open on the\ +table, beside her lay Anatole's letter. Sonya picked it up and read it.\ +\ +As she read she glanced at the sleeping Natasha, trying to find in her\ +face an explanation of what she was reading, but did not find it. Her\ +face was calm, gentle, and happy. Clutching her breast to keep herself\ +from choking, Sonya, pale and trembling with fear and agitation, sat\ +down in an armchair and burst into tears.\ +\ +"How was it I noticed nothing? How could it go so far? Can she have left\ +off loving Prince Andrew? And how could she let Kuragin go to such\ +lengths? He is a deceiver and a villain, that's plain! What will\ +Nicholas, dear noble Nicholas, do when he hears of it? So this is the\ +meaning of her excited, resolute, unnatural look the day before\ +yesterday, yesterday, and today," thought Sonya. "But it can't be that\ +she loves him! She probably opened the letter without knowing who it was\ +from. Probably she is offended by it. She could not do such a thing!"\ +\ +Sonya wiped away her tears and went up to Natasha, again scanning her\ +face.\ +\ +"Natasha!" she said, just audibly.\ +\ +Natasha awoke and saw Sonya.\ +\ +"Ah, you're back?"\ +\ +And with the decision and tenderness that often come at the moment of\ +awakening, she embraced her friend, but noticing Sonya's look of\ +embarrassment, her own face expressed confusion and suspicion.\ +\ +"Sonya, you've read that letter?" she demanded.\ +\ +"Yes," answered Sonya softly.\ +\ +Natasha smiled rapturously.\ +\ +"No, Sonya, I can't any longer!" she said. "I can't hide it from you any\ +longer. You know, we love one another! Sonya, darling, he writes...\ +Sonya..."\ +\ +Sonya stared open-eyed at Natasha, unable to believe her ears.\ +\ +"And Bolkonski?" she asked.\ +\ +"Ah, Sonya, if you only knew how happy I am!" cried Natasha. "You don't\ +know what love is...."\ +\ +"But, Natasha, can that be all over?"\ +\ +Natasha looked at Sonya with wide-open eyes as if she could not grasp\ +the question.\ +\ +"Well, then, are you refusing Prince Andrew?" said Sonya.\ +\ +"Oh, you don't understand anything! Don't talk nonsense, just listen!"\ +said Natasha, with momentary vexation.\ +\ +"But I can't believe it," insisted Sonya. "I don't understand. How is it\ +you have loved a man for a whole year and suddenly... Why, you have only\ +seen him three times! Natasha, I don't believe you, you're joking! In\ +three days to forget everything and so..."\ +\ +"Three days?" said Natasha. "It seems to me I've loved him a hundred\ +years. It seems to me that I have never loved anyone before. You can't\ +understand it.... Sonya, wait a bit, sit here," and Natasha embraced and\ +kissed her.\ +\ +"I had heard that it happens like this, and you must have heard it too,\ +but it's only now that I feel such love. It's not the same as before. As\ +soon as I saw him I felt he was my master and I his slave, and that I\ +could not help loving him. Yes, his slave! Whatever he orders I shall\ +do. You don't understand that. What can I do? What can I do, Sonya?"\ +cried Natasha with a happy yet frightened expression.\ +\ +"But think what you are doing," cried Sonya. "I can't leave it like\ +this. This secret correspondence... How could you let him go so far?"\ +she went on, with a horror and disgust she could hardly conceal.\ +\ +"I told you that I have no will," Natasha replied. "Why can't you\ +understand? I love him!"\ +\ +"Then I won't let it come to that... I shall tell!" cried Sonya,\ +bursting into tears.\ +\ +"What do you mean? For God's sake... If you tell, you are my enemy!"\ +declared Natasha. "You want me to be miserable, you want us to be\ +separated...."\ +\ +When she saw Natasha's fright, Sonya shed tears of shame and pity for\ +her friend.\ +\ +"But what has happened between you?" she asked. "What has he said to\ +you? Why doesn't he come to the house?"\ +\ +Natasha did not answer her questions.\ +\ +"For God's sake, Sonya, don't tell anyone, don't torture me," Natasha\ +entreated. "Remember no one ought to interfere in such matters! I have\ +confided in you...."\ +\ +"But why this secrecy? Why doesn't he come to the house?" asked Sonya.\ +"Why doesn't he openly ask for your hand? You know Prince Andrew gave\ +you complete freedom--if it is really so; but I don't believe it!\ +Natasha, have you considered what these secret reasons can be?"\ +\ +Natasha looked at Sonya with astonishment. Evidently this question\ +presented itself to her mind for the first time and she did not know how\ +to answer it.\ +\ +"I don't know what the reasons are. But there must be reasons!"\ +\ +Sonya sighed and shook her head incredulously.\ +\ +"If there were reasons..." she began.\ +\ +But Natasha, guessing her doubts, interrupted her in alarm.\ +\ +"Sonya, one can't doubt him! One can't, one can't! Don't you\ +understand?" she cried.\ +\ +"Does he love you?"\ +\ +"Does he love me?" Natasha repeated with a smile of pity at her friend's\ +lack of comprehension. "Why, you have read his letter and you have seen\ +him."\ +\ +"But if he is dishonorable?"\ +\ +"He! dishonorable? If you only knew!" exclaimed Natasha.\ +\ +"If he is an honorable man he should either declare his intentions or\ +cease seeing you; and if you won't do this, I will. I will write to him,\ +and I will tell Papa!" said Sonya resolutely.\ +\ +"But I can't live without him!" cried Natasha.\ +\ +"Natasha, I don't understand you. And what are you saying! Think of your\ +father and of Nicholas."\ +\ +"I don't want anyone, I don't love anyone but him. How dare you say he\ +is dishonorable? Don't you know that I love him?" screamed Natasha. "Go\ +away, Sonya! I don't want to quarrel with you, but go, for God's sake\ +go! You see how I am suffering!" Natasha cried angrily, in a voice of\ +despair and repressed irritation. Sonya burst into sobs and ran from the\ +room.\ +\ +Natasha went to the table and without a moment's reflection wrote that\ +answer to Princess Mary which she had been unable to write all the\ +morning. In this letter she said briefly that all their\ +misunderstandings were at an end; that availing herself of the\ +magnanimity of Prince Andrew who when he went abroad had given her her\ +freedom, she begged Princess Mary to forget everything and forgive her\ +if she had been to blame toward her, but that she could not be his wife.\ +At that moment this all seemed quite easy, simple, and clear to Natasha.\ +\ +On Friday the Rostovs were to return to the country, but on Wednesday\ +the count went with the prospective purchaser to his estate near Moscow.\ +\ +On the day the count left, Sonya and Natasha were invited to a big\ +dinner party at the Karagins', and Marya Dmitrievna took them there. At\ +that party Natasha again met Anatole, and Sonya noticed that she spoke\ +to him, trying not to be overheard, and that all through dinner she was\ +more agitated than ever. When they got home Natasha was the first to\ +begin the explanation Sonya expected.\ +\ +"There, Sonya, you were talking all sorts of nonsense about him,"\ +Natasha began in a mild voice such as children use when they wish to be\ +praised. "We have had an explanation today."\ +\ +"Well, what happened? What did he say? Natasha, how glad I am you're not\ +angry with me! Tell me everything--the whole truth. What did he say?"\ +\ +Natasha became thoughtful.\ +\ +"Oh, Sonya, if you knew him as I do! He said... He asked me what I had\ +promised Bolkonski. He was glad I was free to refuse him."\ +\ +Sonya sighed sorrowfully.\ +\ +"But you haven't refused Bolkonski?" said she.\ +\ +"Perhaps I have. Perhaps all is over between me and Bolkonski. Why do\ +you think so badly of me?"\ +\ +"I don't think anything, only I don't understand this..."\ +\ +"Wait a bit, Sonya, you'll understand everything. You'll see what a man\ +he is! Now don't think badly of me or of him. I don't think badly of\ +anyone: I love and pity everybody. But what am I to do?"\ +\ +Sonya did not succumb to the tender tone Natasha used toward her. The\ +more emotional and ingratiating the expression of Natasha's face became,\ +the more serious and stern grew Sonya's.\ +\ +"Natasha," said she, "you asked me not to speak to you, and I haven't\ +spoken, but now you yourself have begun. I don't trust him, Natasha. Why\ +this secrecy?"\ +\ +"Again, again!" interrupted Natasha.\ +\ +"Natasha, I am afraid for you!"\ +\ +"Afraid of what?"\ +\ +"I am afraid you're going to your ruin," said Sonya resolutely, and was\ +herself horrified at what she had said.\ +\ +Anger again showed in Natasha's face.\ +\ +"And I'll go to my ruin, I will, as soon as possible! It's not your\ +business! It won't be you, but I, who'll suffer. Leave me alone, leave\ +me alone! I hate you!"\ +\ +"Natasha!" moaned Sonya, aghast.\ +\ +"I hate you, I hate you! You're my enemy forever!" And Natasha ran out\ +of the room.\ +\ +Natasha did not speak to Sonya again and avoided her. With the same\ +expression of agitated surprise and guilt she went about the house,\ +taking up now one occupation, now another, and at once abandoning them.\ +\ +Hard as it was for Sonya, she watched her friend and did not let her out\ +of her sight.\ +\ +The day before the count was to return, Sonya noticed that Natasha sat\ +by the drawing-room window all the morning as if expecting something and\ +that she made a sign to an officer who drove past, whom Sonya took to be\ +Anatole.\ +\ +Sonya began watching her friend still more attentively and noticed that\ +at dinner and all that evening Natasha was in a strange and unnatural\ +state. She answered questions at random, began sentences she did not\ +finish, and laughed at everything.\ +\ +After tea Sonya noticed a housemaid at Natasha's door timidly waiting to\ +let her pass. She let the girl go in, and then listening at the door\ +learned that another letter had been delivered.\ +\ +Then suddenly it became clear to Sonya that Natasha had some dreadful\ +plan for that evening. Sonya knocked at her door. Natasha did not let\ +her in.\ +\ +"She will run away with him!" thought Sonya. "She is capable of\ +anything. There was something particularly pathetic and resolute in her\ +face today. She cried as she said good-by to Uncle," Sonya remembered.\ +"Yes, that's it, she means to elope with him, but what am I to do?"\ +thought she, recalling all the signs that clearly indicated that Natasha\ +had some terrible intention. "The count is away. What am I to do? Write\ +to Kuragin demanding an explanation? But what is there to oblige him to\ +reply? Write to Pierre, as Prince Andrew asked me to in case of some\ +misfortune?... But perhaps she really has already refused Bolkonski--she\ +sent a letter to Princess Mary yesterday. And Uncle is away...." To tell\ +Marya Dmitrievna who had such faith in Natasha seemed to Sonya terrible.\ +"Well, anyway," thought Sonya as she stood in the dark passage, "now or\ +never I must prove that I remember the family's goodness to me and that\ +I love Nicholas. Yes! If I don't sleep for three nights I'll not leave\ +this passage and will hold her back by force and will and not let the\ +family be disgraced," thought she.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XVI\ +\ +Anatole had lately moved to Dolokhov's. The plan for Natalie Rostova's\ +abduction had been arranged and the preparations made by Dolokhov a few\ +days before, and on the day that Sonya, after listening at Natasha's\ +door, resolved to safeguard her, it was to have been put into execution.\ +Natasha had promised to come out to Kuragin at the back porch at ten\ +that evening. Kuragin was to put her into a troyka he would have ready\ +and to drive her forty miles to the village of Kamenka, where an\ +unfrocked priest was in readiness to perform a marriage ceremony over\ +them. At Kamenka a relay of horses was to wait which would take them to\ +the Warsaw highroad, and from there they would hasten abroad with post\ +horses.\ +\ +Anatole had a passport, an order for post horses, ten thousand rubles he\ +had taken from his sister and another ten thousand borrowed with\ +Dolokhov's help.\ +\ +Two witnesses for the mock marriage--Khvostikov, a retired petty\ +official whom Dolokhov made use of in his gambling transactions, and\ +Makarin, a retired hussar, a kindly, weak fellow who had an unbounded\ +affection for Kuragin--were sitting at tea in Dolokhov's front room.\ +\ +In his large study, the walls of which were hung to the ceiling with\ +Persian rugs, bearskins, and weapons, sat Dolokhov in a traveling cloak\ +and high boots, at an open desk on which lay an abacus and some bundles of\ +paper money. Anatole, with uniform unbuttoned, walked to and fro from\ +the room where the witnesses were sitting, through the study to the room\ +behind, where his French valet and others were packing the last of his\ +things. Dolokhov was counting the money and noting something down.\ +\ +"Well," he said, "Khvostikov must have two thousand."\ +\ +"Give it to him, then," said Anatole.\ +\ +"Makarka" (their name for Makarin) "will go through fire and water for\ +you for nothing. So here are our accounts all settled," said Dolokhov,\ +showing him the memorandum. "Is that right?"\ +\ +"Yes, of course," returned Anatole, evidently not listening to Dolokhov\ +and looking straight before him with a smile that did not leave his\ +face.\ +\ +Dolokhov banged down the lid of his desk and turned to Anatole with an\ +ironic smile:\ +\ +"Do you know? You'd really better drop it all. There's still time!"\ +\ +"Fool," retorted Anatole. "Don't talk nonsense! If you only knew... it's\ +the devil knows what!"\ +\ +"No, really, give it up!" said Dolokhov. "I am speaking seriously. It's\ +no joke, this plot you've hatched."\ +\ +"What, teasing again? Go to the devil! Eh?" said Anatole, making a\ +grimace. "Really it's no time for your stupid jokes," and he left the\ +room.\ +\ +Dolokhov smiled contemptuously and condescendingly when Anatole had gone\ +out.\ +\ +"You wait a bit," he called after him. "I'm not joking, I'm talking\ +sense. Come here, come here!"\ +\ +Anatole returned and looked at Dolokhov, trying to give him his\ +attention and evidently submitting to him involuntarily.\ +\ +"Now listen to me. I'm telling you this for the last time. Why should I\ +joke about it? Did I hinder you? Who arranged everything for you? Who\ +found the priest and got the passport? Who raised the money? I did it\ +all."\ +\ +"Well, thank you for it. Do you think I am not grateful?" And Anatole\ +sighed and embraced Dolokhov.\ +\ +"I helped you, but all the same I must tell you the truth; it is a\ +dangerous business, and if you think about it--a stupid business. Well,\ +you'll carry her off--all right! Will they let it stop at that? It will\ +come out that you're already married. Why, they'll have you in the\ +criminal court...."\ +\ +"Oh, nonsense, nonsense!" Anatole ejaculated and again made a grimace.\ +"Didn't I explain to you? What?" And Anatole, with the partiality dull-\ +witted people have for any conclusion they have reached by their own\ +reasoning, repeated the argument he had already put to Dolokhov a\ +hundred times. "Didn't I explain to you that I have come to this\ +conclusion: if this marriage is invalid," he went on, crooking one\ +finger, "then I have nothing to answer for; but if it is valid, no\ +matter! Abroad no one will know anything about it. Isn't that so? And\ +don't talk to me, don't, don't."\ +\ +"Seriously, you'd better drop it! You'll only get yourself into a mess!"\ +\ +"Go to the devil!" cried Anatole and, clutching his hair, left the room,\ +but returned at once and dropped into an armchair in front of Dolokhov\ +with his feet turned under him. "It's the very devil! What? Feel how it\ +beats!" He took Dolokhov's hand and put it on his heart. "What a foot,\ +my dear fellow! What a glance! A goddess!" he added in French. "What?"\ +\ +Dolokhov with a cold smile and a gleam in his handsome insolent eyes\ +looked at him--evidently wishing to get some more amusement out of him.\ +\ +"Well and when the money's gone, what then?"\ +\ +"What then? Eh?" repeated Anatole, sincerely perplexed by a thought of\ +the future. "What then?... Then, I don't know.... But why talk\ +nonsense!" He glanced at his watch. "It's time!"\ +\ +Anatole went into the back room.\ +\ +"Now then! Nearly ready? You're dawdling!" he shouted to the servants.\ +\ +Dolokhov put away the money, called a footman whom he ordered to bring\ +something for them to eat and drink before the journey, and went into\ +the room where Khvostikov and Makarin were sitting.\ +\ +Anatole lay on the sofa in the study leaning on his elbow and smiling\ +pensively, while his handsome lips muttered tenderly to himself.\ +\ +"Come and eat something. Have a drink!" Dolokhov shouted to him from the\ +other room.\ +\ +"I don't want to," answered Anatole continuing to smile.\ +\ +"Come! Balaga is here."\ +\ +Anatole rose and went into the dining room. Balaga was a famous troyka\ +driver who had known Dolokhov and Anatole some six years and had given\ +them good service with his troykas. More than once when Anatole's\ +regiment was stationed at Tver he had taken him from Tver in the\ +evening, brought him to Moscow by daybreak, and driven him back again\ +the next night. More than once he had enabled Dolokhov to escape when\ +pursued. More than once he had driven them through the town with gypsies\ +and "ladykins" as he called the cocottes. More than once in their\ +service he had run over pedestrians and upset vehicles in the streets of\ +Moscow and had always been protected from the consequences by "my\ +gentlemen" as he called them. He had ruined more than one horse in their\ +service. More than once they had beaten him, and more than once they had\ +made him drunk on champagne and Madeira, which he loved; and he knew\ +more than one thing about each of them which would long ago have sent an\ +ordinary man to Siberia. They often called Balaga into their orgies and\ +made him drink and dance at the gypsies', and more than one thousand\ +rubles of their money had passed through his hands. In their service he\ +risked his skin and his life twenty times a year, and in their service\ +had lost more horses than the money he had from them would buy. But he\ +liked them; liked that mad driving at twelve miles an hour, liked\ +upsetting a driver or running down a pedestrian, and flying at full\ +gallop through the Moscow streets. He liked to hear those wild, tipsy\ +shouts behind him: "Get on! Get on!" when it was impossible to go any\ +faster. He liked giving a painful lash on the neck to some peasant who,\ +more dead than alive, was already hurrying out of his way. "Real\ +gentlemen!" he considered them.\ +\ +Anatole and Dolokhov liked Balaga too for his masterly driving and\ +because he liked the things they liked. With others Balaga bargained,\ +charging twenty-five rubles for a two hours' drive, and rarely drove\ +himself, generally letting his young men do so. But with "his gentlemen"\ +he always drove himself and never demanded anything for his work. Only a\ +couple of times a year--when he knew from their valets that they had\ +money in hand--he would turn up of a morning quite sober and with a deep\ +bow would ask them to help him. The gentlemen always made him sit down.\ +\ +"Do help me out, Theodore Ivanych, sir," or "your excellency," he would\ +say. "I am quite out of horses. Let me have what you can to go to the\ +fair."\ +\ +And Anatole and Dolokhov, when they had money, would give him a thousand\ +or a couple of thousand rubles.\ +\ +Balaga was a fair-haired, short, and snub-nosed peasant of about twenty-\ +seven; red-faced, with a particularly red thick neck, glittering little\ +eyes, and a small beard. He wore a fine, dark-blue, silk-lined cloth\ +coat over a sheepskin.\ +\ +On entering the room now he crossed himself, turning toward the front\ +corner of the room, and went up to Dolokhov, holding out a small, black\ +hand.\ +\ +"Theodore Ivanych!" he said, bowing.\ +\ +"How d'you do, friend? Well, here he is!"\ +\ +"Good day, your excellency!" he said, again holding out his hand to\ +Anatole who had just come in.\ +\ +"I say, Balaga," said Anatole, putting his hands on the man's shoulders,\ +"do you care for me or not? Eh? Now, do me a service.... What horses\ +have you come with? Eh?"\ +\ +"As your messenger ordered, your special beasts," replied Balaga.\ +\ +"Well, listen, Balaga! Drive all three to death but get me there in\ +three hours. Eh?"\ +\ +"When they are dead, what shall I drive?" said Balaga with a wink.\ +\ +"Mind, I'll smash your face in! Don't make jokes!" cried Anatole,\ +suddenly rolling his eyes.\ +\ +"Why joke?" said the driver, laughing. "As if I'd grudge my gentlemen\ +anything! As fast as ever the horses can gallop, so fast we'll go!"\ +\ +"Ah!" said Anatole. "Well, sit down."\ +\ +"Yes, sit down!" said Dolokhov.\ +\ +"I'll stand, Theodore Ivanych."\ +\ +"Sit down; nonsense! Have a drink!" said Anatole, and filled a large\ +glass of Madeira for him.\ +\ +The driver's eyes sparkled at the sight of the wine. After refusing it\ +for manners' sake, he drank it and wiped his mouth with a red silk\ +handkerchief he took out of his cap.\ +\ +"And when are we to start, your excellency?"\ +\ +"Well..." Anatole looked at his watch. "We'll start at once. Mind,\ +Balaga! You'll get there in time? Eh?"\ +\ +"That depends on our luck in starting, else why shouldn't we be there in\ +time?" replied Balaga. "Didn't we get you to Tver in seven hours? I\ +think you remember that, your excellency?"\ +\ +"Do you know, one Christmas I drove from Tver," said Anatole, smilingly\ +at the recollection and turning to Makarin who gazed rapturously at him\ +with wide-open eyes. "Will you believe it, Makarka, it took one's breath\ +away, the rate we flew. We came across a train of loaded sleighs and\ +drove right over two of them. Eh?"\ +\ +"Those were horses!" Balaga continued the tale. "That time I'd harnessed\ +two young side horses with the bay in the shafts," he went on, turning\ +to Dolokhov. "Will you believe it, Theodore Ivanych, those animals flew\ +forty miles? I couldn't hold them in, my hands grew numb in the sharp\ +frost so that I threw down the reins--'Catch hold yourself, your\ +excellency!' says I, and I just tumbled on the bottom of the sleigh and\ +sprawled there. It wasn't a case of urging them on, there was no holding\ +them in till we reached the place. The devils took us there in three\ +hours! Only the near one died of it."\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XVII\ +\ +Anatole went out of the room and returned a few minutes later wearing a\ +fur coat girt with a silver belt, and a sable cap jauntily set on one\ +side and very becoming to his handsome face. Having looked in a mirror,\ +and standing before Dolokhov in the same pose he had assumed before it,\ +he lifted a glass of wine.\ +\ +"Well, good-by, Theodore. Thank you for everything and farewell!" said\ +Anatole. "Well, comrades and friends..." he considered for a moment\ +"...of my youth, farewell!" he said, turning to Makarin and the others.\ +\ +Though they were all going with him, Anatole evidently wished to make\ +something touching and solemn out of this address to his comrades. He\ +spoke slowly in a loud voice and throwing out his chest slightly swayed\ +one leg.\ +\ +"All take glasses; you too, Balaga. Well, comrades and friends of my\ +youth, we've had our fling and lived and reveled. Eh? And now, when\ +shall we meet again? I am going abroad. We have had a good time--now\ +farewell, lads! To our health! Hurrah!..." he cried, and emptying his\ +glass flung it on the floor.\ +\ +"To your health!" said Balaga who also emptied his glass, and wiped his\ +mouth with his handkerchief.\ +\ +Makarin embraced Anatole with tears in his eyes.\ +\ +"Ah, Prince, how sorry I am to part from you!\ +\ +"Let's go. Let's go!" cried Anatole.\ +\ +Balaga was about to leave the room.\ +\ +"No, stop!" said Anatole. "Shut the door; we have first to sit down.\ +That's the way."\ +\ +They shut the door and all sat down.\ +\ +"Now, quick march, lads!" said Anatole, rising.\ +\ +Joseph, his valet, handed him his sabretache and saber, and they all\ +went out into the vestibule.\ +\ +"And where's the fur cloak?" asked Dolokhov. "Hey, Ignatka! Go to\ +Matrena Matrevna and ask her for the sable cloak. I have heard what\ +elopements are like," continued Dolokhov with a wink. "Why, she'll rush\ +out more dead than alive just in the things she is wearing; if you delay\ +at all there'll be tears and 'Papa' and 'Mamma,' and she's frozen in a\ +minute and must go back--but you wrap the fur cloak round her first\ +thing and carry her to the sleigh."\ +\ +The valet brought a woman's fox-lined cloak.\ +\ +"Fool, I told you the sable one! Hey, Matrena, the sable!" he shouted so\ +that his voice rang far through the rooms.\ +\ +A handsome, slim, and pale-faced gypsy girl with glittering black eyes\ +and curly blue-black hair, wearing a red shawl, ran out with a sable\ +mantle on her arm.\ +\ +"Here, I don't grudge it--take it!" she said, evidently afraid of her\ +master and yet regretful of her cloak.\ +\ +Dolokhov, without answering, took the cloak, threw it over Matrena, and\ +wrapped her up in it.\ +\ +"That's the way," said Dolokhov, "and then so!" and he turned the collar\ +up round her head, leaving only a little of the face uncovered. "And\ +then so, do you see?" and he pushed Anatole's head forward to meet the\ +gap left by the collar, through which Matrena's brilliant smile was\ +seen.\ +\ +"Well, good-by, Matrena," said Anatole, kissing her. "Ah, my revels here\ +are over. Remember me to Steshka. There, good-by! Good-bye, Matrena,\ +wish me luck!"\ +\ +"Well, Prince, may God give you great luck!" said Matrena in her gypsy\ +accent.\ +\ +Two troykas were standing before the porch and two young drivers were\ +holding the horses. Balaga took his seat in the front one and holding\ +his elbows high arranged the reins deliberately. Anatole and Dolokhov\ +got in with him. Makarin, Khvostikov, and a valet seated themselves in\ +the other sleigh.\ +\ +"Well, are you ready?" asked Balaga.\ +\ +"Go!" he cried, twisting the reins round his hands, and the troyka tore\ +down the Nikitski Boulevard.\ +\ +"Tproo! Get out of the way! Hi!... Tproo!..." The shouting of Balaga and\ +of the sturdy young fellow seated on the box was all that could be\ +heard. On the Arbat Square the troyka caught against a carriage;\ +something cracked, shouts were heard, and the troyka flew along the\ +Arbat Street.\ +\ +After taking a turn along the Podnovinski Boulevard, Balaga began to\ +rein in, and turning back drew up at the crossing of the old Konyusheny\ +Street.\ +\ +The young fellow on the box jumped down to hold the horses and Anatole\ +and Dolokhov went along the pavement. When they reached the gate\ +Dolokhov whistled. The whistle was answered, and a maidservant ran out.\ +\ +"Come into the courtyard or you'll be seen; she'll come out directly,"\ +said she.\ +\ +Dolokhov stayed by the gate. Anatole followed the maid into the\ +courtyard, turned the corner, and ran up into the porch.\ +\ +He was met by Gabriel, Marya Dmitrievna's gigantic footman.\ +\ +"Come to the mistress, please," said the footman in his deep bass,\ +intercepting any retreat.\ +\ +"To what Mistress? Who are you?" asked Anatole in a breathless whisper.\ +\ +"Kindly step in, my orders are to bring you in."\ +\ +"Kuragin! Come back!" shouted Dolokhov. "Betrayed! Back!"\ +\ +Dolokhov, after Anatole entered, had remained at the wicket gate and was\ +struggling with the yard porter who was trying to lock it. With a last\ +desperate effort Dolokhov pushed the porter aside, and when Anatole ran\ +back seized him by the arm, pulled him through the wicket, and ran back\ +with him to the troyka.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XVIII\ +\ +Marya Dmitrievna, having found Sonya weeping in the corridor, made her\ +confess everything, and intercepting the note to Natasha she read it and\ +went into Natasha's room with it in her hand.\ +\ +"You shameless good-for-nothing!" said she. "I won't hear a word."\ +\ +Pushing back Natasha who looked at her with astonished but tearless\ +eyes, she locked her in; and having given orders to the yard porter to\ +admit the persons who would be coming that evening, but not to let them\ +out again, and having told the footman to bring them up to her, she\ +seated herself in the drawing room to await the abductors.\ +\ +When Gabriel came to inform her that the men who had come had run away\ +again, she rose frowning, and clasping her hands behind her paced\ +through the rooms a long time considering what she should do. Toward\ +midnight she went to Natasha's room fingering the key in her pocket.\ +Sonya was sitting sobbing in the corridor. "Marya Dmitrievna, for God's\ +sake let me in to her!" she pleaded, but Marya Dmitrievna unlocked the\ +door and went in without giving her an answer.... "Disgusting,\ +abominable... In my house... horrid girl, hussy! I'm only sorry for her\ +father!" thought she, trying to restrain her wrath. "Hard as it may be,\ +I'll tell them all to hold their tongues and will hide it from the\ +count." She entered the room with resolute steps. Natasha lying on the\ +sofa, her head hidden in her hands, and she did not stir. She was in\ +just the same position in which Marya Dmitrievna had left her.\ +\ +"A nice girl! Very nice!" said Marya Dmitrievna. "Arranging meetings\ +with lovers in my house! It's no use pretending: you listen when I speak\ +to you!" And Marya Dmitrievna touched her arm. "Listen when I speak!\ +You've disgraced yourself like the lowest of hussies. I'd treat you\ +differently, but I'm sorry for your father, so I will conceal it."\ +\ +Natasha did not change her position, but her whole body heaved with\ +noiseless, convulsive sobs which choked her. Marya Dmitrievna glanced\ +round at Sonya and seated herself on the sofa beside Natasha.\ +\ +"It's lucky for him that he escaped me; but I'll find him!" she said in\ +her rough voice. "Do you hear what I am saying or not?" she added.\ +\ +She put her large hand under Natasha's face and turned it toward her.\ +Both Marya Dmitrievna and Sonya were amazed when they saw how Natasha\ +looked. Her eyes were dry and glistening, her lips compressed, her\ +cheeks sunken.\ +\ +"Let me be!... What is it to me?... I shall die!" she muttered,\ +wrenching herself from Marya Dmitrievna's hands with a vicious effort\ +and sinking down again into her former position.\ +\ +"Natalie!" said Marya Dmitrievna. "I wish for your good. Lie still, stay\ +like that then, I won't touch you. But listen. I won't tell you how\ +guilty you are. You know that yourself. But when your father comes back\ +tomorrow what am I to tell him? Eh?"\ +\ +Again Natasha's body shook with sobs.\ +\ +"Suppose he finds out, and your brother, and your betrothed?"\ +\ +"I have no betrothed: I have refused him!" cried Natasha.\ +\ +"That's all the same," continued Marya Dmitrievna. "If they hear of\ +this, will they let it pass? He, your father, I know him... if he\ +challenges him to a duel will that be all right? Eh?"\ +\ +"Oh, let me be! Why have you interfered at all? Why? Why? Who asked you\ +to?" shouted Natasha, raising herself on the sofa and looking\ +malignantly at Marya Dmitrievna.\ +\ +"But what did you want?" cried Marya Dmitrievna, growing angry again.\ +"Were you kept under lock and key? Who hindered his coming to the house?\ +Why carry you off as if you were some gypsy singing girl?... Well, if he\ +had carried you off... do you think they wouldn't have found him? Your\ +father, or brother, or your betrothed? And he's a scoundrel, a wretch--\ +that's a fact!"\ +\ +"He is better than any of you!" exclaimed Natasha getting up. "If you\ +hadn't interfered... Oh, my God! What is it all? What is it? Sonya,\ +why?... Go away!"\ +\ +And she burst into sobs with the despairing vehemence with which people\ +bewail disasters they feel they have themselves occasioned. Marya\ +Dmitrievna was to speak again but Natasha cried out:\ +\ +"Go away! Go away! You all hate and despise me!" and she threw herself\ +back on the sofa.\ +\ +Marya Dmitrievna went on admonishing her for some time, enjoining on her\ +that it must all be kept from her father and assuring her that nobody\ +would know anything about it if only Natasha herself would undertake to\ +forget it all and not let anyone see that something had happened.\ +Natasha did not reply, nor did she sob any longer, but she grew cold and\ +had a shivering fit. Marya Dmitrievna put a pillow under her head,\ +covered her with two quilts, and herself brought her some lime-flower\ +water, but Natasha did not respond to her.\ +\ +"Well, let her sleep," said Marya Dmitrievna as she went out of the room\ +supposing Natasha to be asleep.\ +\ +But Natasha was not asleep; with pale face and fixed wide-open eyes she\ +looked straight before her. All that night she did not sleep or weep and\ +did not speak to Sonya who got up and went to her several times.\ +\ +Next day Count Rostov returned from his estate near Moscow in time for\ +lunch as he had promised. He was in very good spirits; the affair with\ +the purchaser was going on satisfactorily, and there was nothing to keep\ +him any longer in Moscow, away from the countess whom he missed. Marya\ +Dmitrievna met him and told him that Natasha had been very unwell the\ +day before and that they had sent for the doctor, but that she was\ +better now. Natasha had not left her room that morning. With compressed\ +and parched lips and dry fixed eyes, she sat at the window, uneasily\ +watching the people who drove past and hurriedly glancing round at\ +anyone who entered the room. She was evidently expecting news of him and\ +that he would come or would write to her.\ +\ +When the count came to see her she turned anxiously round at the sound\ +of a man's footstep, and then her face resumed its cold and malevolent\ +expression. She did not even get up to greet him. "What is the matter\ +with you, my angel? Are you ill?" asked the count.\ +\ +After a moment's silence Natasha answered: "Yes, ill."\ +\ +In reply to the count's anxious inquiries as to why she was so dejected\ +and whether anything had happened to her betrothed, she assured him that\ +nothing had happened and asked him not to worry. Marya Dmitrievna\ +confirmed Natasha's assurances that nothing had happened. From the\ +pretense of illness, from his daughter's distress, and by the\ +embarrassed faces of Sonya and Marya Dmitrievna, the count saw clearly\ +that something had gone wrong during his absence, but it was so terrible\ +for him to think that anything disgraceful had happened to his beloved\ +daughter, and he so prized his own cheerful tranquillity, that he\ +avoided inquiries and tried to assure himself that nothing particularly\ +had happened; and he was only dissatisfied that her indisposition\ +delayed their return to the country.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XIX\ +\ +From the day his wife arrived in Moscow Pierre had been intending to go\ +away somewhere, so as not to be near her. Soon after the Rostovs came to\ +Moscow the effect Natasha had on him made him hasten to carry out his\ +intention. He went to Tver to see Joseph Alexeevich's widow, who had\ +long since promised to hand over to him some papers of her deceased\ +husband's.\ +\ +When he returned to Moscow Pierre was handed a letter from Marya\ +Dmitrievna asking him to come and see her on a matter of great\ +importance relating to Andrew Bolkonski and his betrothed. Pierre had\ +been avoiding Natasha because it seemed to him that his feeling for her\ +was stronger than a married man's should be for his friend's fiancee.\ +Yet some fate constantly threw them together.\ +\ +"What can have happened? And what can they want with me?" thought he as\ +he dressed to go to Marya Dmitrievna's. "If only Prince Andrew would\ +hurry up and come and marry her!" thought he on his way to the house.\ +\ +On the Tverskoy Boulevard a familiar voice called to him.\ +\ +"Pierre! Been back long?" someone shouted. Pierre raised his head. In a\ +sleigh drawn by two gray trotting-horses that were bespattering the\ +dashboard with snow, Anatole and his constant companion Makarin dashed\ +past. Anatole was sitting upright in the classic pose of military\ +dandies, the lower part of his face hidden by his beaver collar and his\ +head slightly bent. His face was fresh and rosy, his white-plumed hat,\ +tilted to one side, disclosed his curled and pomaded hair besprinkled\ +with powdery snow.\ +\ +"Yes, indeed, that's a true sage," thought Pierre. "He sees nothing\ +beyond the pleasure of the moment, nothing troubles him and so he is\ +always cheerful, satisfied, and serene. What wouldn't I give to be like\ +him!" he thought enviously.\ +\ +In Marya Dmitrievna's anteroom the footman who helped him off with his\ +fur coat said that the mistress asked him to come to her bedroom.\ +\ +When he opened the ballroom door Pierre saw Natasha sitting at the\ +window, with a thin, pale, and spiteful face. She glanced round at him,\ +frowned, and left the room with an expression of cold dignity.\ +\ +"What has happened?" asked Pierre, entering Marya Dmitrievna's room.\ +\ +"Fine doings!" answered Dmitrievna. "For fifty-eight years have I lived\ +in this world and never known anything so disgraceful!"\ +\ +And having put him on his honor not to repeat anything she told him,\ +Marya Dmitrievna informed him that Natasha had refused Prince Andrew\ +without her parents' knowledge and that the cause of this was Anatole\ +Kuragin into whose society Pierre's wife had thrown her and with whom\ +Natasha had tried to elope during her father's absence, in order to be\ +married secretly.\ +\ +Pierre raised his shoulders and listened open-mouthed to what was told\ +him, scarcely able to believe his own ears. That Prince Andrew's deeply\ +loved affianced wife--the same Natasha Rostova who used to be so\ +charming--should give up Bolkonski for that fool Anatole who was already\ +secretly married (as Pierre knew), and should be so in love with him as\ +to agree to run away with him, was something Pierre could not conceive\ +and could not imagine.\ +\ +He could not reconcile the charming impression he had of Natasha, whom\ +he had known from a child, with this new conception of her baseness,\ +folly, and cruelty. He thought of his wife. "They are all alike!" he\ +said to himself, reflecting that he was not the only man unfortunate\ +enough to be tied to a bad woman. But still he pitied Prince Andrew to\ +the point of tears and sympathized with his wounded pride, and the more\ +he pitied his friend the more did he think with contempt and even with\ +disgust of that Natasha who had just passed him in the ballroom with\ +such a look of cold dignity. He did not know that Natasha's soul was\ +overflowing with despair, shame, and humiliation, and that it was not\ +her fault that her face happened to assume an expression of calm dignity\ +and severity.\ +\ +"But how get married?" said Pierre, in answer to Marya Dmitrievna. "He\ +could not marry--he is married!"\ +\ +"Things get worse from hour to hour!" ejaculated Marya Dmitrievna. "A\ +nice youth! What a scoundrel! And she's expecting him--expecting him\ +since yesterday. She must be told! Then at least she won't go on\ +expecting him."\ +\ +After hearing the details of Anatole's marriage from Pierre, and giving\ +vent to her anger against Anatole in words of abuse, Marya Dmitrievna\ +told Pierre why she had sent for him. She was afraid that the count or\ +Bolkonski, who might arrive at any moment, if they knew of this affair\ +(which she hoped to hide from them) might challenge Anatole to a duel,\ +and she therefore asked Pierre to tell his brother-in-law in her name to\ +leave Moscow and not dare to let her set eyes on him again. Pierre--only\ +now realizing the danger to the old count, Nicholas, and Prince Andrew--\ +promised to do as she wished. Having briefly and exactly explained her\ +wishes to him, she let him go to the drawing room.\ +\ +"Mind, the count knows nothing. Behave as if you know nothing either,"\ +she said. "And I will go and tell her it is no use expecting him! And\ +stay to dinner if you care to!" she called after Pierre.\ +\ +Pierre met the old count, who seemed nervous and upset. That morning\ +Natasha had told him that she had rejected Bolkonski.\ +\ +"Troubles, troubles, my dear fellow!" he said to Pierre. "What troubles\ +one has with these girls without their mother! I do so regret having\ +come here.... I will be frank with you. Have you heard she has broken\ +off her engagement without consulting anybody? It's true this engagement\ +never was much to my liking. Of course he is an excellent man, but\ +still, with his father's disapproval they wouldn't have been happy, and\ +Natasha won't lack suitors. Still, it has been going on so long, and to\ +take such a step without father's or mother's consent! And now she's\ +ill, and God knows what! It's hard, Count, hard to manage daughters in\ +their mother's absence...."\ +\ +Pierre saw that the count was much upset and tried to change the\ +subject, but the count returned to his troubles.\ +\ +Sonya entered the room with an agitated face.\ +\ +"Natasha is not quite well; she's in her room and would like to see you.\ +Marya Dmitrievna is with her and she too asks you to come."\ +\ +"Yes, you are a great friend of Bolkonski's, no doubt she wants to send\ +him a message," said the count. "Oh dear! Oh dear! How happy it all\ +was!"\ +\ +And clutching the spare gray locks on his temples the count left the\ +room.\ +\ +When Marya Dmitrievna told Natasha that Anatole was married, Natasha did\ +not wish to believe it and insisted on having it confirmed by Pierre\ +himself. Sonya told Pierre this as she led him along the corridor to\ +Natasha's room.\ +\ +Natasha, pale and stern, was sitting beside Marya Dmitrievna, and her\ +eyes, glittering feverishly, met Pierre with a questioning look the\ +moment he entered. She did not smile or nod, but only gazed fixedly at\ +him, and her look asked only one thing: was he a friend, or like the\ +others an enemy in regard to Anatole? As for Pierre, he evidently did\ +not exist for her.\ +\ +"He knows all about it," said Marya Dmitrievna pointing to Pierre and\ +addressing Natasha. "Let him tell you whether I have told the truth."\ +\ +Natasha looked from one to the other as a hunted and wounded animal\ +looks at the approaching dogs and sportsmen.\ +\ +"Natalya Ilynichna," Pierre began, dropping his eyes with a feeling of\ +pity for her and loathing for the thing he had to do, "whether it is\ +true or not should make no difference to you, because..."\ +\ +"Then it is not true that he's married!"\ +\ +"Yes, it is true."\ +\ +"Has he been married long?" she asked. "On your honor?..."\ +\ +Pierre gave his word of honor.\ +\ +"Is he still here?" she asked, quickly.\ +\ +"Yes, I have just seen him."\ +\ +She was evidently unable to speak and made a sign with her hands that\ +they should leave her alone.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XX\ +\ +Pierre did not stay for dinner, but left the room and went away at once.\ +He drove through the town seeking Anatole Kuragin, at the thought of\ +whom now the blood rushed to his heart and he felt a difficulty in\ +breathing. He was not at the ice hills, nor at the gypsies', nor at\ +Komoneno's. Pierre drove to the club. In the club all was going on as\ +usual. The members who were assembling for dinner were sitting about in\ +groups; they greeted Pierre and spoke of the town news. The footman\ +having greeted him, knowing his habits and his acquaintances, told him\ +there was a place left for him in the small dining room and that Prince\ +Michael Zakharych was in the library, but Paul Timofeevich had not yet\ +arrived. One of Pierre's acquaintances, while they were talking about\ +the weather, asked if he had heard of Kuragin's abduction of Rostova\ +which was talked of in the town, and was it true? Pierre laughed and\ +said it was nonsense for he had just come from the Rostovs'. He asked\ +everyone about Anatole. One man told him he had not come yet, and\ +another that he was coming to dinner. Pierre felt it strange to see this\ +calm, indifferent crowd of people unaware of what was going on in his\ +soul. He paced through the ballroom, waited till everyone had come, and\ +as Anatole had not turned up did not stay for dinner but drove home.\ +\ +Anatole, for whom Pierre was looking, dined that day with Dolokhov,\ +consulting him as to how to remedy this unfortunate affair. It seemed to\ +him essential to see Natasha. In the evening he drove to his sister's to\ +discuss with her how to arrange a meeting. When Pierre returned home\ +after vainly hunting all over Moscow, his valet informed him that Prince\ +Anatole was with the countess. The countess' drawing room was full of\ +guests.\ +\ +Pierre without greeting his wife whom he had not seen since his return--\ +at that moment she was more repulsive to him than ever--entered the\ +drawing room and seeing Anatole went up to him.\ +\ +"Ah, Pierre," said the countess going up to her husband. "You don't know\ +what a plight our Anatole..."\ +\ +She stopped, seeing in the forward thrust of her husband's head, in his\ +glowing eyes and his resolute gait, the terrible indications of that\ +rage and strength which she knew and had herself experienced after his\ +duel with Dolokhov.\ +\ +"Where you are, there is vice and evil!" said Pierre to his wife.\ +"Anatole, come with me! I must speak to you," he added in French.\ +\ +Anatole glanced round at his sister and rose submissively, ready to\ +follow Pierre. Pierre, taking him by the arm, pulled him toward himself\ +and was leading him from the room.\ +\ +"If you allow yourself in my drawing room..." whispered Helene, but\ +Pierre did not reply and went out of the room.\ +\ +Anatole followed him with his usual jaunty step but his face betrayed\ +anxiety.\ +\ +Having entered his study Pierre closed the door and addressed Anatole\ +without looking at him.\ +\ +"You promised Countess Rostova to marry her and were about to elope with\ +her, is that so?"\ +\ +"Mon cher," answered Anatole (their whole conversation was in French),\ +"I don't consider myself bound to answer questions put to me in that\ +tone."\ +\ +Pierre's face, already pale, became distorted by fury. He seized Anatole\ +by the collar of his uniform with his big hand and shook him from side\ +to side till Anatole's face showed a sufficient degree of terror.\ +\ +"When I tell you that I must talk to you!..." repeated Pierre.\ +\ +"Come now, this is stupid. What?" said Anatole, fingering a button of\ +his collar that had been wrenched loose with a bit of the cloth.\ +\ +"You're a scoundrel and a blackguard, and I don't know what deprives me\ +from the pleasure of smashing your head with this!" said Pierre,\ +expressing himself so artificially because he was talking French.\ +\ +He took a heavy paperweight and lifted it threateningly, but at once put\ +it back in its place.\ +\ +"Did you promise to marry her?"\ +\ +"I... I didn't think of it. I never promised, because..."\ +\ +Pierre interrupted him.\ +\ +"Have you any letters of hers? Any letters?" he said, moving toward\ +Anatole.\ +\ +Anatole glanced at him and immediately thrust his hand into his pocket\ +and drew out his pocketbook.\ +\ +Pierre took the letter Anatole handed him and, pushing aside a table\ +that stood in his way, threw himself on the sofa.\ +\ +"I shan't be violent, don't be afraid!" said Pierre in answer to a\ +frightened gesture of Anatole's. "First, the letters," said he, as if\ +repeating a lesson to himself. "Secondly," he continued after a short\ +pause, again rising and again pacing the room, "tomorrow you must get\ +out of Moscow."\ +\ +"But how can I?..."\ +\ +"Thirdly," Pierre continued without listening to him, "you must never\ +breathe a word of what has passed between you and Countess Rostova. I\ +know I can't prevent your doing so, but if you have a spark of\ +conscience..." Pierre paced the room several times in silence.\ +\ +Anatole sat at a table frowning and biting his lips.\ +\ +"After all, you must understand that besides your pleasure there is such\ +a thing as other people's happiness and peace, and that you are ruining\ +a whole life for the sake of amusing yourself! Amuse yourself with women\ +like my wife--with them you are within your rights, for they know what\ +you want of them. They are armed against you by the same experience of\ +debauchery; but to promise a maid to marry her... to deceive, to\ +kidnap.... Don't you understand that it is as mean as beating an old man\ +or a child?..."\ +\ +Pierre paused and looked at Anatole no longer with an angry but with a\ +questioning look.\ +\ +"I don't know about that, eh?" said Anatole, growing more confident as\ +Pierre mastered his wrath. "I don't know that and don't want to," he\ +said, not looking at Pierre and with a slight tremor of his lower jaw,\ +"but you have used such words to me--'mean' and so on--which as a man of\ +honor I can't allow anyone to use."\ +\ +Pierre glanced at him with amazement, unable to understand what he\ +wanted.\ +\ +"Though it was t\'eate-\'e0-t\'eate," Anatole continued, "still I can't..."\ +\ +"Is it satisfaction you want?" said Pierre ironically.\ +\ +"You could at least take back your words. What? If you want me to do as\ +you wish, eh?"\ +\ +"I take them back, I take them back!" said Pierre, "and I ask you to\ +forgive me." Pierre involuntarily glanced at the loose button. "And if\ +you require money for your journey..."\ +\ +Anatole smiled. The expression of that base and cringing smile, which\ +Pierre knew so well in his wife, revolted him.\ +\ +"Oh, vile and heartless brood!" he exclaimed, and left the room.\ +\ +Next day Anatole left for Petersburg.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XXI\ +\ +Pierre drove to Marya Dmitrievna's to tell her of the fulfillment of her\ +wish that Kuragin should be banished from Moscow. The whole house was in\ +a state of alarm and commotion. Natasha was very ill, having, as Marya\ +Dmitrievna told him in secret, poisoned herself the night after she had\ +been told that Anatole was married, with some arsenic she had stealthily\ +procured. After swallowing a little she had been so frightened that she\ +woke Sonya and told her what she had done. The necessary antidotes had\ +been administered in time and she was now out of danger, though still so\ +weak that it was out of the question to move her to the country, and so\ +the countess had been sent for. Pierre saw the distracted count, and\ +Sonya, who had a tear-stained face, but he could not see Natasha.\ +\ +Pierre dined at the club that day and heard on all sides gossip about\ +the attempted abduction of Rostova. He resolutely denied these rumors,\ +assuring everyone that nothing had happened except that his brother-in-\ +law had proposed to her and been refused. It seemed to Pierre that it\ +was his duty to conceal the whole affair and re-establish Natasha's\ +reputation.\ +\ +He was awaiting Prince Andrew's return with dread and went every day to\ +the old prince's for news of him.\ +\ +Old Prince Bolkonski heard all the rumors current in the town from\ +Mademoiselle Bourienne and had read the note to Princess Mary in which\ +Natasha had broken off her engagement. He seemed in better spirits than\ +usual and awaited his son with great impatience.\ +\ +Some days after Anatole's departure Pierre received a note from Prince\ +Andrew, informing him of his arrival and asking him to come to see him.\ +\ +As soon as he reached Moscow, Prince Andrew had received from his father\ +Natasha's note to Princess Mary breaking off her engagement\ +(Mademoiselle Bourienne had purloined it from Princess Mary and given it\ +to the old prince), and he heard from him the story of Natasha's\ +elopement, with additions.\ +\ +Prince Andrew had arrived in the evening and Pierre came to see him next\ +morning. Pierre expected to find Prince Andrew in almost the same state\ +as Natasha and was therefore surprised on entering the drawing room to\ +hear him in the study talking in a loud animated voice about some\ +intrigue going on in Petersburg. The old prince's voice and another now\ +and then interrupted him. Princess Mary came out to meet Pierre. She\ +sighed, looking toward the door of the room where Prince Andrew was,\ +evidently intending to express her sympathy with his sorrow, but Pierre\ +saw by her face that she was glad both at what had happened and at the\ +way her brother had taken the news of Natasha's faithlessness.\ +\ +"He says he expected it," she remarked. "I know his pride will not let\ +him express his feelings, but still he has taken it better, far better,\ +than I expected. Evidently it had to be...."\ +\ +"But is it possible that all is really ended?" asked Pierre.\ +\ +Princess Mary looked at him with astonishment. She did not understand\ +how he could ask such a question. Pierre went into the study. Prince\ +Andrew, greatly changed and plainly in better health, but with a fresh\ +horizontal wrinkle between his brows, stood in civilian dress facing his\ +father and Prince Meshcherski, warmly disputing and vigorously\ +gesticulating. The conversation was about Speranski--the news of whose\ +sudden exile and alleged treachery had just reached Moscow.\ +\ +"Now he is censured and accused by all who were enthusiastic about him a\ +month ago," Prince Andrew was saying, "and by those who were unable to\ +understand his aims. To judge a man who is in disfavor and to throw on\ +him all the blame of other men's mistakes is very easy, but I maintain\ +that if anything good has been accomplished in this reign it was done by\ +him, by him alone."\ +\ +He paused at the sight of Pierre. His face quivered and immediately\ +assumed a vindictive expression.\ +\ +"Posterity will do him justice," he concluded, and at once turned to\ +Pierre.\ +\ +"Well, how are you? Still getting stouter?" he said with animation, but\ +the new wrinkle on his forehead deepened. "Yes, I am well," he said in\ +answer to Pierre's question, and smiled.\ +\ +To Pierre that smile said plainly: "I am well, but my health is now of\ +no use to anyone."\ +\ +After a few words to Pierre about the awful roads from the Polish\ +frontier, about people he had met in Switzerland who knew Pierre, and\ +about M. Dessalles, whom he had brought from abroad to be his son's\ +tutor, Prince Andrew again joined warmly in the conversation about\ +Speranski which was still going on between the two old men.\ +\ +"If there were treason, or proofs of secret relations with Napoleon,\ +they would have been made public," he said with warmth and haste. "I do\ +not, and never did, like Speranski personally, but I like justice!"\ +\ +Pierre now recognized in his friend a need with which he was only too\ +familiar, to get excited and to have arguments about extraneous matters\ +in order to stifle thoughts that were too oppressive and too intimate.\ +When Prince Meshcherski had left, Prince Andrew took Pierre's arm and\ +asked him into the room that had been assigned him. A bed had been made\ +up there, and some open portmanteaus and trunks stood about. Prince\ +Andrew went to one and took out a small casket, from which he drew a\ +packet wrapped in paper. He did it all silently and very quickly. He\ +stood up and coughed. His face was gloomy and his lips compressed.\ +\ +"Forgive me for troubling you..."\ +\ +Pierre saw that Prince Andrew was going to speak of Natasha, and his\ +broad face expressed pity and sympathy. This expression irritated Prince\ +Andrew, and in a determined, ringing, and unpleasant tone he continued:\ +\ +"I have received a refusal from Countess Rostova and have heard reports\ +of your brother-in-law having sought her hand, or something of that\ +kind. Is that true?"\ +\ +"Both true and untrue," Pierre began; but Prince Andrew interrupted him.\ +\ +"Here are her letters and her portrait," said he.\ +\ +He took the packet from the table and handed it to Pierre.\ +\ +"Give this to the countess... if you see her."\ +\ +"She is very ill," said Pierre.\ +\ +"Then she is here still?" said Prince Andrew. "And Prince Kuragin?" he\ +added quickly.\ +\ +"He left long ago. She has been at death's door."\ +\ +"I much regret her illness," said Prince Andrew; and he smiled like his\ +father, coldly, maliciously, and unpleasantly.\ +\ +"So Monsieur Kuragin has not honored Countess Rostova with his hand?"\ +said Prince Andrew, and he snorted several times.\ +\ +"He could not marry, for he was married already," said Pierre.\ +\ +Prince Andrew laughed disagreeably, again reminding one of his father.\ +\ +"And where is your brother-in-law now, if I may ask?" he said.\ +\ +"He has gone to Peters... But I don't know," said Pierre.\ +\ +"Well, it doesn't matter," said Prince Andrew. "Tell Countess Rostova\ +that she was and is perfectly free and that I wish her all that is\ +good."\ +\ +Pierre took the packet. Prince Andrew, as if trying to remember whether\ +he had something more to say, or waiting to see if Pierre would say\ +anything, looked fixedly at him.\ +\ +"I say, do you remember our discussion in Petersburg?" asked Pierre,\ +"about..."\ +\ +"Yes," returned Prince Andrew hastily. "I said that a fallen woman\ +should be forgiven, but I didn't say I could forgive her. I can't."\ +\ +"But can this be compared...?" said Pierre.\ +\ +Prince Andrew interrupted him and cried sharply: "Yes, ask her hand\ +again, be magnanimous, and so on?... Yes, that would be very noble, but\ +I am unable to follow in that gentleman's footsteps. If you wish to be\ +my friend never speak to me of that... of all that! Well, good-by. So\ +you'll give her the packet?"\ +\ +Pierre left the room and went to the old prince and Princess Mary.\ +\ +The old man seemed livelier than usual. Princess Mary was the same as\ +always, but beneath her sympathy for her brother, Pierre noticed her\ +satisfaction that the engagement had been broken off. Looking at them\ +Pierre realized what contempt and animosity they all felt for the\ +Rostovs, and that it was impossible in their presence even to mention\ +the name of her who could give up Prince Andrew for anyone else.\ +\ +At dinner the talk turned on the war, the approach of which was becoming\ +evident. Prince Andrew talked incessantly, arguing now with his father,\ +now with the Swiss tutor Dessalles, and showing an unnatural animation,\ +the cause of which Pierre so well understood.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XXII\ +\ +That same evening Pierre went to the Rostovs' to fulfill the commission\ +entrusted to him. Natasha was in bed, the count at the club, and Pierre,\ +after giving the letters to Sonya, went to Marya Dmitrievna who was\ +interested to know how Prince Andrew had taken the news. Ten minutes\ +later Sonya came to Marya Dmitrievna.\ +\ +"Natasha insists on seeing Count Peter Kirilovich," said she.\ +\ +"But how? Are we to take him up to her? The room there has not been\ +tidied up."\ +\ +"No, she has dressed and gone into the drawing room," said Sonya.\ +\ +Marya Dmitrievna only shrugged her shoulders.\ +\ +"When will her mother come? She has worried me to death! Now mind, don't\ +tell her everything!" said she to Pierre. "One hasn't the heart to scold\ +her, she is so much to be pitied, so much to be pitied."\ +\ +Natasha was standing in the middle of the drawing room, emaciated, with\ +a pale set face, but not at all shamefaced as Pierre expected to find\ +her. When he appeared at the door she grew flurried, evidently undecided\ +whether to go to meet him or to wait till he came up.\ +\ +Pierre hastened to her. He thought she would give him her hand as usual;\ +but she, stepping up to him, stopped, breathing heavily, her arms\ +hanging lifelessly just in the pose she used to stand in when she went\ +to the middle of the ballroom to sing, but with quite a different\ +expression of face.\ +\ +"Peter Kirilovich," she began rapidly, "Prince Bolkonski was your\ +friend--is your friend," she corrected herself. (It seemed to her that\ +everything that had once been must now be different.) "He told me once\ +to apply to you..."\ +\ +Pierre sniffed as he looked at her, but did not speak. Till then he had\ +reproached her in his heart and tried to despise her, but he now felt so\ +sorry for her that there was no room in his soul for reproach.\ +\ +"He is here now: tell him... to for... forgive me!" She stopped and\ +breathed still more quickly, but did not shed tears.\ +\ +"Yes... I will tell him," answered Pierre; "but..."\ +\ +He did not know what to say.\ +\ +Natasha was evidently dismayed at the thought of what he might think she\ +had meant.\ +\ +"No, I know all is over," she said hurriedly. "No, that can never be.\ +I'm only tormented by the wrong I have done him. Tell him only that I\ +beg him to forgive, forgive, forgive me for everything...."\ +\ +She trembled all over and sat down on a chair.\ +\ +A sense of pity he had never before known overflowed Pierre's heart.\ +\ +"I will tell him, I will tell him everything once more," said Pierre.\ +"But... I should like to know one thing...."\ +\ +"Know what?" Natasha's eyes asked.\ +\ +"I should like to know, did you love..." Pierre did not know how to\ +refer to Anatole and flushed at the thought of him--"did you love that\ +bad man?"\ +\ +"Don't call him bad!" said Natasha. "But I don't know, don't know at\ +all...."\ +\ +She began to cry and a still greater sense of pity, tenderness, and love\ +welled up in Pierre. He felt the tears trickle under his spectacles and\ +hoped they would not be noticed.\ +\ +"We won't speak of it any more, my dear," said Pierre, and his gentle,\ +cordial tone suddenly seemed very strange to Natasha.\ +\ +"We won't speak of it, my dear--I'll tell him everything; but one thing\ +I beg of you, consider me your friend and if you want help, advice, or\ +simply to open your heart to someone--not now, but when your mind is\ +clearer think of me!" He took her hand and kissed it. "I shall be happy\ +if it's in my power..."\ +\ +Pierre grew confused.\ +\ +"Don't speak to me like that. I am not worth it!" exclaimed Natasha and\ +turned to leave the room, but Pierre held her hand.\ +\ +He knew he had something more to say to her. But when he said it he was\ +amazed at his own words.\ +\ +"Stop, stop! You have your whole life before you," said he to her.\ +\ +\ +"Before me? No! All is over for me," she replied with shame and self-\ +abasement.\ +\ +"All over?" he repeated. "If I were not myself, but the handsomest,\ +cleverest, and best man in the world, and were free, I would this moment\ +ask on my knees for your hand and your love!"\ +\ +For the first time for many days Natasha wept tears of gratitude and\ +tenderness, and glancing at Pierre she went out of the room.\ +\ +Pierre too when she had gone almost ran into the anteroom, restraining\ +tears of tenderness and joy that choked him, and without finding the\ +sleeves of his fur cloak threw it on and got into his sleigh.\ +\ +"Where to now, your excellency?" asked the coachman.\ +\ +"Where to?" Pierre asked himself. "Where can I go now? Surely not to the\ +club or to pay calls?" All men seemed so pitiful, so poor, in comparison\ +with this feeling of tenderness and love he experienced: in comparison\ +with that softened, grateful, last look she had given him through her\ +tears.\ +\ +"Home!" said Pierre, and despite twenty-two degrees of frost Fahrenheit\ +he threw open the bearskin cloak from his broad chest and inhaled the\ +air with joy.\ +\ +It was clear and frosty. Above the dirty, ill-lit streets, above the\ +black roofs, stretched the dark starry sky. Only looking up at the sky\ +did Pierre cease to feel how sordid and humiliating were all mundane\ +things compared with the heights to which his soul had just been raised.\ +At the entrance to the Arbat Square an immense expanse of dark starry\ +sky presented itself to his eyes. Almost in the center of it, above the\ +Prechistenka Boulevard, surrounded and sprinkled on all sides by stars\ +but distinguished from them all by its nearness to the earth, its white\ +light, and its long uplifted tail, shone the enormous and brilliant\ +comet of 1812--the comet which was said to portend all kinds of woes and\ +the end of the world. In Pierre, however, that comet with its long\ +luminous tail aroused no feeling of fear. On the contrary he gazed\ +joyfully, his eyes moist with tears, at this bright comet which, having\ +traveled in its orbit with inconceivable velocity through immeasurable\ +space, seemed suddenly--like an arrow piercing the earth--to remain\ +fixed in a chosen spot, vigorously holding its tail erect, shining and\ +displaying its white light amid countless other scintillating stars. It\ +seemed to Pierre that this comet fully responded to what was passing in\ +his own softened and uplifted soul, now blossoming into a new life.\ +\ +BOOK NINE: 1812\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER I\ +\ +From the close of the year 1811 intensified arming and concentrating of\ +the forces of Western Europe began, and in 1812 these forces--millions\ +of men, reckoning those transporting and feeding the army--moved from\ +the west eastwards to the Russian frontier, toward which since 1811\ +Russian forces had been similarly drawn. On the twelfth of June, 1812,\ +the forces of Western Europe crossed the Russian frontier and war began,\ +that is, an event took place opposed to human reason and to human\ +nature. Millions of men perpetrated against one another such innumerable\ +crimes, frauds, treacheries, thefts, forgeries, issues of false money,\ +burglaries, incendiarisms, and murders as in whole centuries are not\ +recorded in the annals of all the law courts of the world, but which\ +those who committed them did not at the time regard as being crimes.\ +\ +What produced this extraordinary occurrence? What were its causes? The\ +historians tell us with naive assurance that its causes were the wrongs\ +inflicted on the Duke of Oldenburg, the nonobservance of the Continental\ +System, the ambition of Napoleon, the firmness of Alexander, the\ +mistakes of the diplomatists, and so on.\ +\ +Consequently, it would only have been necessary for Metternich,\ +Rumyantsev, or Talleyrand, between a levee and an evening party, to have\ +taken proper pains and written a more adroit note, or for Napoleon to\ +have written to Alexander: "My respected Brother, I consent to restore\ +the duchy to the Duke of Oldenburg"--and there would have been no war.\ +\ +We can understand that the matter seemed like that to contemporaries. It\ +naturally seemed to Napoleon that the war was caused by England's\ +intrigues (as in fact he said on the island of St. Helena). It naturally\ +seemed to members of the English Parliament that the cause of the war\ +was Napoleon's ambition; to the Duke of Oldenburg, that the cause of the\ +war was the violence done to him; to businessmen that the cause of the\ +war was the Continental System which was ruining Europe; to the generals\ +and old soldiers that the chief reason for the war was the necessity of\ +giving them employment; to the legitimists of that day that it was the\ +need of re-establishing les bons principes, and to the diplomatists of\ +that time that it all resulted from the fact that the alliance between\ +Russia and Austria in 1809 had not been sufficiently well concealed from\ +Napoleon, and from the awkward wording of Memorandum No. 178. It is\ +natural that these and a countless and infinite quantity of other\ +reasons, the number depending on the endless diversity of points of\ +view, presented themselves to the men of that day; but to us, to\ +posterity who view the thing that happened in all its magnitude and\ +perceive its plain and terrible meaning, these causes seem insufficient.\ +To us it is incomprehensible that millions of Christian men killed and\ +tortured each other either because Napoleon was ambitious or Alexander\ +was firm, or because England's policy was astute or the Duke of\ +Oldenburg wronged. We cannot grasp what connection such circumstances\ +have with the actual fact of slaughter and violence: why because the\ +Duke was wronged, thousands of men from the other side of Europe killed\ +and ruined the people of Smolensk and Moscow and were killed by them.\ +\ +To us, their descendants, who are not historians and are not carried\ +away by the process of research and can therefore regard the event with\ +unclouded common sense, an incalculable number of causes present\ +themselves. The deeper we delve in search of these causes the more of\ +them we find; and each separate cause or whole series of causes appears\ +to us equally valid in itself and equally false by its insignificance\ +compared to the magnitude of the events, and by its impotence--apart\ +from the cooperation of all the other coincident causes--to occasion the\ +event. To us, the wish or objection of this or that French corporal to\ +serve a second term appears as much a cause as Napoleon's refusal to\ +withdraw his troops beyond the Vistula and to restore the duchy of\ +Oldenburg; for had he not wished to serve, and had a second, a third,\ +and a thousandth corporal and private also refused, there would have\ +been so many less men in Napoleon's army and the war could not have\ +occurred.\ +\ +Had Napoleon not taken offense at the demand that he should withdraw\ +beyond the Vistula, and not ordered his troops to advance, there would\ +have been no war; but had all his sergeants objected to serving a second\ +term then also there could have been no war. Nor could there have been a\ +war had there been no English intrigues and no Duke of Oldenburg, and\ +had Alexander not felt insulted, and had there not been an autocratic\ +government in Russia, or a Revolution in France and a subsequent\ +dictatorship and Empire, or all the things that produced the French\ +Revolution, and so on. Without each of these causes nothing could have\ +happened. So all these causes--myriads of causes--coincided to bring it\ +about. And so there was no one cause for that occurrence, but it had to\ +occur because it had to. Millions of men, renouncing their human\ +feelings and reason, had to go from west to east to slay their fellows,\ +just as some centuries previously hordes of men had come from the east\ +to the west, slaying their fellows.\ +\ +The actions of Napoleon and Alexander, on whose words the event seemed\ +to hang, were as little voluntary as the actions of any soldier who was\ +drawn into the campaign by lot or by conscription. This could not be\ +otherwise, for in order that the will of Napoleon and Alexander (on whom\ +the event seemed to depend) should be carried out, the concurrence of\ +innumerable circumstances was needed without any one of which the event\ +could not have taken place. It was necessary that millions of men in\ +whose hands lay the real power--the soldiers who fired, or transported\ +provisions and guns--should consent to carry out the will of these weak\ +individuals, and should have been induced to do so by an infinite number\ +of diverse and complex causes.\ +\ +We are forced to fall back on fatalism as an explanation of irrational\ +events (that is to say, events the reasonableness of which we do not\ +understand). The more we try to explain such events in history\ +reasonably, the more unreasonable and incomprehensible do they become to\ +us.\ +\ +Each man lives for himself, using his freedom to attain his personal\ +aims, and feels with his whole being that he can now do or abstain from\ +doing this or that action; but as soon as he has done it, that action\ +performed at a certain moment in time becomes irrevocable and belongs to\ +history, in which it has not a free but a predestined significance.\ +\ +There are two sides to the life of every man, his individual life, which\ +is the more free the more abstract its interests, and his elemental hive\ +life in which he inevitably obeys laws laid down for him.\ +\ +Man lives consciously for himself, but is an unconscious instrument in\ +the attainment of the historic, universal, aims of humanity. A deed done\ +is irrevocable, and its result coinciding in time with the actions of\ +millions of other men assumes an historic significance. The higher a man\ +stands on the social ladder, the more people he is connected with and\ +the more power he has over others, the more evident is the\ +predestination and inevitability of his every action.\ +\ +"The king's heart is in the hands of the Lord."\ +\ +A king is history's slave.\ +\ +History, that is, the unconscious, general, hive life of mankind, uses\ +every moment of the life of kings as a tool for its own purposes.\ +\ +Though Napoleon at that time, in 1812, was more convinced than ever that\ +it depended on him, verser (ou ne pas verser) le sang de ses peuples *--\ +as Alexander expressed it in the last letter he wrote him--he had never\ +been so much in the grip of inevitable laws, which compelled him, while\ +thinking that he was acting on his own volition, to perform for the hive\ +life--that is to say, for history--whatever had to be performed.\ +\ +\ +* "To shed (or not to shed) the blood of his peoples."\ +\ +The people of the west moved eastwards to slay their fellow men, and by\ +the law of coincidence thousands of minute causes fitted in and co-\ +ordinated to produce that movement and war: reproaches for the\ +nonobservance of the Continental System, the Duke of Oldenburg's wrongs,\ +the movement of troops into Prussia--undertaken (as it seemed to\ +Napoleon) only for the purpose of securing an armed peace, the French\ +Emperor's love and habit of war coinciding with his people's\ +inclinations, allurement by the grandeur of the preparations, and the\ +expenditure on those preparations and the need of obtaining advantages\ +to compensate for that expenditure, the intoxicating honors he received\ +in Dresden, the diplomatic negotiations which, in the opinion of\ +contemporaries, were carried on with a sincere desire to attain peace,\ +but which only wounded the self-love of both sides, and millions of\ +other causes that adapted themselves to the event that was happening or\ +coincided with it.\ +\ +When an apple has ripened and falls, why does it fall? Because of its\ +attraction to the earth, because its stalk withers, because it is dried\ +by the sun, because it grows heavier, because the wind shakes it, or\ +because the boy standing below wants to eat it?\ +\ +Nothing is the cause. All this is only the coincidence of conditions in\ +which all vital organic and elemental events occur. And the botanist who\ +finds that the apple falls because the cellular tissue decays and so\ +forth is equally right with the child who stands under the tree and says\ +the apple fell because he wanted to eat it and prayed for it. Equally\ +right or wrong is he who says that Napoleon went to Moscow because he\ +wanted to, and perished because Alexander desired his destruction, and\ +he who says that an undermined hill weighing a million tons fell because\ +the last navvy struck it for the last time with his mattock. In historic\ +events the so-called great men are labels giving names to events, and\ +like labels they have but the smallest connection with the event itself.\ +\ +Every act of theirs, which appears to them an act of their own will, is\ +in an historical sense involuntary and is related to the whole course of\ +history and predestined from eternity.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER II\ +\ +On the twenty-ninth of May Napoleon left Dresden, where he had spent\ +three weeks surrounded by a court that included princes, dukes, kings,\ +and even an emperor. Before leaving, Napoleon showed favor to the\ +emperor, kings, and princes who had deserved it, reprimanded the kings\ +and princes with whom he was dissatisfied, presented pearls and diamonds\ +of his own--that is, which he had taken from other kings--to the Empress\ +of Austria, and having, as his historian tells us, tenderly embraced the\ +Empress Marie Louise--who regarded him as her husband, though he had\ +left another wife in Paris--left her grieved by the parting which she\ +seemed hardly able to bear. Though the diplomatists still firmly\ +believed in the possibility of peace and worked zealously to that end,\ +and though the Emperor Napoleon himself wrote a letter to Alexander,\ +calling him Monsieur mon frere, and sincerely assured him that he did\ +not want war and would always love and honor him--yet he set off to join\ +his army, and at every station gave fresh orders to accelerate the\ +movement of his troops from west to east. He went in a traveling coach\ +with six horses, surrounded by pages, aides-de-camp, and an escort,\ +along the road to Posen, Thorn, Danzig, and Konigsberg. At each of these\ +towns thousands of people met him with excitement and enthusiasm.\ +\ +The army was moving from west to east, and relays of six horses carried\ +him in the same direction. On the tenth of June, * coming up with the\ +army, he spent the night in apartments prepared for him on the estate of\ +a Polish count in the Vilkavisski forest.\ +\ +\ +* Old style.\ +\ +Next day, overtaking the army, he went in a carriage to the Niemen, and,\ +changing into a Polish uniform, he drove to the riverbank in order to\ +select a place for the crossing.\ +\ +Seeing, on the other side, some Cossacks (les Cosaques) and the wide-\ +spreading steppes in the midst of which lay the holy city of Moscow\ +(Moscou, la ville sainte), the capital of a realm such as the Scythia\ +into which Alexander the Great had marched--Napoleon unexpectedly, and\ +contrary alike to strategic and diplomatic considerations, ordered an\ +advance, and the next day his army began to cross the Niemen.\ +\ +Early in the morning of the twelfth of June he came out of his tent,\ +which was pitched that day on the steep left bank of the Niemen, and\ +looked through a spyglass at the streams of his troops pouring out of\ +the Vilkavisski forest and flowing over the three bridges thrown across\ +the river. The troops, knowing of the Emperor's presence, were on the\ +lookout for him, and when they caught sight of a figure in an overcoat\ +and a cocked hat standing apart from his suite in front of his tent on\ +the hill, they threw up their caps and shouted: "Vive l'Empereur!" and\ +one after another poured in a ceaseless stream out of the vast forest\ +that had concealed them and, separating, flowed on and on by the three\ +bridges to the other side.\ +\ +"Now we'll go into action. Oh, when he takes it in hand himself, things\ +get hot... by heaven!... There he is!... Vive l'Empereur! So these are\ +the steppes of Asia! It's a nasty country all the same. Au revoir,\ +Beauche; I'll keep the best palace in Moscow for you! Au revoir. Good\ +luck!... Did you see the Emperor? Vive l'Empereur!... preur!--If they\ +make me Governor of India, Gerard, I'll make you Minister of Kashmir--\ +that's settled. Vive l'Empereur! Hurrah! hurrah! hurrah! The Cossacks--\ +those rascals--see how they run! Vive l'Empereur! There he is, do you\ +see him? I've seen him twice, as I see you now. The little corporal... I\ +saw him give the cross to one of the veterans.... Vive l'Empereur!" came\ +the voices of men, old and young, of most diverse characters and social\ +positions. On the faces of all was one common expression of joy at the\ +commencement of the long-expected campaign and of rapture and devotion\ +to the man in the gray coat who was standing on the hill.\ +\ +On the thirteenth of June a rather small, thoroughbred Arab horse was\ +brought to Napoleon. He mounted it and rode at a gallop to one of the\ +bridges over the Niemen, deafened continually by incessant and rapturous\ +acclamations which he evidently endured only because it was impossible\ +to forbid the soldiers to express their love of him by such shouting,\ +but the shouting which accompanied him everywhere disturbed him and\ +distracted him from the military cares that had occupied him from the\ +time he joined the army. He rode across one of the swaying pontoon\ +bridges to the farther side, turned sharply to the left, and galloped in\ +the direction of Kovno, preceded by enraptured, mounted chasseurs of the\ +Guard who, breathless with delight, galloped ahead to clear a path for\ +him through the troops. On reaching the broad river Viliya, he stopped\ +near a regiment of Polish uhlans stationed by the river.\ +\ +"Vivat!" shouted the Poles, ecstatically, breaking their ranks and\ +pressing against one another to see him.\ +\ +Napoleon looked up and down the river, dismounted, and sat down on a log\ +that lay on the bank. At a mute sign from him, a telescope was handed\ +him which he rested on the back of a happy page who had run up to him,\ +and he gazed at the opposite bank. Then he became absorbed in a map laid\ +out on the logs. Without lifting his head he said something, and two of\ +his aides-de-camp galloped off to the Polish uhlans.\ +\ +"What? What did he say?" was heard in the ranks of the Polish uhlans\ +when one of the aides-de-camp rode up to them.\ +\ +The order was to find a ford and to cross the river. The colonel of the\ +Polish uhlans, a handsome old man, flushed and, fumbling in his speech\ +from excitement, asked the aide-de-camp whether he would be permitted to\ +swim the river with his uhlans instead of seeking a ford. In evident\ +fear of refusal, like a boy asking for permission to get on a horse, he\ +begged to be allowed to swim across the river before the Emperor's eyes.\ +The aide-de-camp replied that probably the Emperor would not be\ +displeased at this excess of zeal.\ +\ +As soon as the aide-de-camp had said this, the old mustached officer,\ +with happy face and sparkling eyes, raised his saber, shouted "Vivat!"\ +and, commanding the uhlans to follow him, spurred his horse and galloped\ +into the river. He gave an angry thrust to his horse, which had grown\ +restive under him, and plunged into the water, heading for the deepest\ +part where the current was swift. Hundreds of uhlans galloped in after\ +him. It was cold and uncanny in the rapid current in the middle of the\ +stream, and the uhlans caught hold of one another as they fell off their\ +horses. Some of the horses were drowned and some of the men; the others\ +tried to swim on, some in the saddle and some clinging to their horses'\ +manes. They tried to make their way forward to the opposite bank and,\ +though there was a ford one third of a mile away, were proud that they\ +were swimming and drowning in this river under the eyes of the man who\ +sat on the log and was not even looking at what they were doing. When\ +the aide-de-camp, having returned and choosing an opportune moment,\ +ventured to draw the Emperor's attention to the devotion of the Poles to\ +his person, the little man in the gray overcoat got up and, having\ +summoned Berthier, began pacing up and down the bank with him, giving\ +him instructions and occasionally glancing disapprovingly at the\ +drowning uhlans who distracted his attention.\ +\ +For him it was no new conviction that his presence in any part of the\ +world, from Africa to the steppes of Muscovy alike, was enough to\ +dumfound people and impel them to insane self-oblivion. He called for\ +his horse and rode to his quarters.\ +\ +Some forty uhlans were drowned in the river, though boats were sent to\ +their assistance. The majority struggled back to the bank from which\ +they had started. The colonel and some of his men got across and with\ +difficulty clambered out on the further bank. And as soon as they had\ +got out, in their soaked and streaming clothes, they shouted "Vivat!"\ +and looked ecstatically at the spot where Napoleon had been but where he\ +no longer was and at that moment considered themselves happy.\ +\ +That evening, between issuing one order that the forged Russian paper\ +money prepared for use in Russia should be delivered as quickly as\ +possible and another that a Saxon should be shot, on whom a letter\ +containing information about the orders to the French army had been\ +found, Napoleon also gave instructions that the Polish colonel who had\ +needlessly plunged into the river should be enrolled in the Legion\ +d'honneur of which Napoleon was himself the head.\ +\ +Quos vult perdere dementat. *\ +\ +\ +* Those whom (God) wishes to destroy he drives mad.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER III\ +\ +The Emperor of Russia had, meanwhile, been in Vilna for more than a\ +month, reviewing troops and holding maneuvers. Nothing was ready for the\ +war that everyone expected and to prepare for which the Emperor had come\ +from Petersburg. There was no general plan of action. The vacillation\ +between the various plans that were proposed had even increased after\ +the Emperor had been at headquarters for a month. Each of the three\ +armies had its own commander-in-chief, but there was no supreme\ +commander of all the forces, and the Emperor did not assume that\ +responsibility himself.\ +\ +The longer the Emperor remained in Vilna the less did everybody--tired\ +of waiting--prepare for the war. All the efforts of those who surrounded\ +the sovereign seemed directed merely to making him spend his time\ +pleasantly and forget that war was impending.\ +\ +In June, after many balls and fetes given by the Polish magnates, by the\ +courtiers, and by the Emperor himself, it occurred to one of the Polish\ +aides-de-camp in attendance that a dinner and ball should be given for\ +the Emperor by his aides-de-camp. This idea was eagerly received. The\ +Emperor gave his consent. The aides-de-camp collected money by\ +subscription. The lady who was thought to be most pleasing to the\ +Emperor was invited to act as hostess. Count Bennigsen, being a\ +landowner in the Vilna province, offered his country house for the fete,\ +and the thirteenth of June was fixed for a ball, dinner, regatta, and\ +fireworks at Zakret, Count Bennigsen's country seat.\ +\ +The very day that Napoleon issued the order to cross the Niemen, and his\ +vanguard, driving off the Cossacks, crossed the Russian frontier,\ +Alexander spent the evening at the entertainment given by his aides-de-\ +camp at Bennigsen's country house.\ +\ +It was a gay and brilliant fete. Connoisseurs of such matters declared\ +that rarely had so many beautiful women been assembled in one place.\ +Countess Bezukhova was present among other Russian ladies who had\ +followed the sovereign from Petersburg to Vilna and eclipsed the refined\ +Polish ladies by her massive, so-called Russian type of beauty. The\ +Emperor noticed her and honored her with a dance.\ +\ +Boris Drubetskoy, having left his wife in Moscow and being for the\ +present en garcon (as he phrased it), was also there and, though not an\ +aide-de-camp, had subscribed a large sum toward the expenses. Boris was\ +now a rich man who had risen to high honors and no longer sought\ +patronage but stood on an equal footing with the highest of those of his\ +own age. He was meeting Helene in Vilna after not having seen her for a\ +long time and did not recall the past, but as Helene was enjoying the\ +favors of a very important personage and Boris had only recently\ +married, they met as good friends of long standing.\ +\ +At midnight dancing was still going on. Helene, not having a suitable\ +partner, herself offered to dance the mazurka with Boris. They were the\ +third couple. Boris, coolly looking at Helene's dazzling bare shoulders\ +which emerged from a dark, gold-embroidered, gauze gown, talked to her\ +of old acquaintances and at the same time, unaware of it himself and\ +unnoticed by others, never for an instant ceased to observe the Emperor\ +who was in the same room. The Emperor was not dancing, he stood in the\ +doorway, stopping now one pair and now another with gracious words which\ +he alone knew how to utter.\ +\ +As the mazurka began, Boris saw that Adjutant General Balashev, one of\ +those in closest attendance on the Emperor, went up to him and contrary\ +to court etiquette stood near him while he was talking to a Polish lady.\ +Having finished speaking to her, the Emperor looked inquiringly at\ +Balashev and, evidently understanding that he only acted thus because\ +there were important reasons for so doing, nodded slightly to the lady\ +and turned to him. Hardly had Balashev begun to speak before a look of\ +amazement appeared on the Emperor's face. He took Balashev by the arm\ +and crossed the room with him, unconsciously clearing a path seven yards\ +wide as the people on both sides made way for him. Boris noticed\ +Arakcheev's excited face when the sovereign went out with Balashev.\ +Arakcheev looked at the Emperor from under his brow and, sniffing with\ +his red nose, stepped forward from the crowd as if expecting the Emperor\ +to address him. (Boris understood that Arakcheev envied Balashev and was\ +displeased that evidently important news had reached the Emperor\ +otherwise than through himself.)\ +\ +But the Emperor and Balashev passed out into the illuminated garden\ +without noticing Arakcheev who, holding his sword and glancing\ +wrathfully around, followed some twenty paces behind them.\ +\ +All the time Boris was going through the figures of the mazurka, he was\ +worried by the question of what news Balashev had brought and how he\ +could find it out before others. In the figure in which he had to choose\ +two ladies, he whispered to Helene that he meant to choose Countess\ +Potocka who, he thought, had gone out onto the veranda, and glided over\ +the parquet to the door opening into the garden, where, seeing Balashev\ +and the Emperor returning to the veranda, he stood still. They were\ +moving toward the door. Boris, fluttering as if he had not had time to\ +withdraw, respectfully pressed close to the doorpost with bowed head.\ +\ +The Emperor, with the agitation of one who has been personally\ +affronted, was finishing with these words:\ +\ +"To enter Russia without declaring war! I will not make peace as long as\ +a single armed enemy remains in my country!" It seemed to Boris that it\ +gave the Emperor pleasure to utter these words. He was satisfied with\ +the form in which he had expressed his thoughts, but displeased that\ +Boris had overheard it.\ +\ +"Let no one know of it!" the Emperor added with a frown.\ +\ +Boris understood that this was meant for him and, closing his eyes,\ +slightly bowed his head. The Emperor re-entered the ballroom and\ +remained there about another half-hour.\ +\ +Boris was thus the first to learn the news that the French army had\ +crossed the Niemen and, thanks to this, was able to show certain\ +important personages that much that was concealed from others was\ +usually known to him, and by this means he rose higher in their\ +estimation.\ +\ +The unexpected news of the French having crossed the Niemen was\ +particularly startling after a month of unfulfilled expectations, and at\ +a ball. On first receiving the news, under the influence of indignation\ +and resentment the Emperor had found a phrase that pleased him, fully\ +expressed his feelings, and has since become famous. On returning home\ +at two o'clock that night he sent for his secretary, Shishkov, and told\ +him to write an order to the troops and a rescript to Field Marshal\ +Prince Saltykov, in which he insisted on the words being inserted that\ +he would not make peace so long as a single armed Frenchman remained on\ +Russian soil.\ +\ +Next day the following letter was sent to Napoleon:\ +\ +Monsieur mon frere,\ +\ +Yesterday I learned that, despite the loyalty with which I have kept my\ +engagements with Your Majesty, your troops have crossed the Russian\ +frontier, and I have this moment received from Petersburg a note, in\ +which Count Lauriston informs me, as a reason for this aggression, that\ +Your Majesty has considered yourself to be in a state of war with me\ +from the time Prince Kuragin asked for his passports. The reasons on\ +which the Duc de Bassano based his refusal to deliver them to him would\ +never have led me to suppose that that could serve as a pretext for\ +aggression. In fact, the ambassador, as he himself has declared, was\ +never authorized to make that demand, and as soon as I was informed of\ +it I let him know how much I disapproved of it and ordered him to remain\ +at his post. If Your Majesty does not intend to shed the blood of our\ +peoples for such a misunderstanding, and consents to withdraw your\ +troops from Russian territory, I will regard what has passed as not\ +having occurred and an understanding between us will be possible. In the\ +contrary case, Your Majesty, I shall see myself forced to repel an\ +attack that nothing on my part has provoked. It still depends on Your\ +Majesty to preserve humanity from the calamity of another war. I am,\ +etc.,\ +\ +(signed) Alexander.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER IV\ +\ +At two in the morning of the fourteenth of June, the Emperor, having\ +sent for Balashev and read him his letter to Napoleon, ordered him to\ +take it and hand it personally to the French Emperor. When dispatching\ +Balashev, the Emperor repeated to him the words that he would not make\ +peace so long as a single armed enemy remained on Russian soil and told\ +him to transmit those words to Napoleon. Alexander did not insert them\ +in his letter to Napoleon, because with his characteristic tact he felt\ +it would be injudicious to use them at a moment when a last attempt at\ +reconciliation was being made, but he definitely instructed Balashev to\ +repeat them personally to Napoleon.\ +\ +Having set off in the small hours of the fourteenth, accompanied by a\ +bugler and two Cossacks, Balashev reached the French outposts at the\ +village of Rykonty, on the Russian side of the Niemen, by dawn. There he\ +was stopped by French cavalry sentinels.\ +\ +A French noncommissioned officer of hussars, in crimson uniform and a\ +shaggy cap, shouted to the approaching Balashev to halt. Balashev did\ +not do so at once, but continued to advance along the road at a walking\ +pace.\ +\ +The noncommissioned officer frowned and, muttering words of abuse,\ +advanced his horse's chest against Balashev, put his hand to his saber,\ +and shouted rudely at the Russian general, asking: was he deaf that he\ +did not do as he was told? Balashev mentioned who he was. The\ +noncommissioned officer began talking with his comrades about regimental\ +matters without looking at the Russian general.\ +\ +After living at the seat of the highest authority and power, after\ +conversing with the Emperor less than three hours before, and in general\ +being accustomed to the respect due to his rank in the service, Balashev\ +found it very strange here on Russian soil to encounter this hostile,\ +and still more this disrespectful, application of brute force to\ +himself.\ +\ +The sun was only just appearing from behind the clouds, the air was\ +fresh and dewy. A herd of cattle was being driven along the road from\ +the village, and over the fields the larks rose trilling, one after\ +another, like bubbles rising in water.\ +\ +Balashev looked around him, awaiting the arrival of an officer from the\ +village. The Russian Cossacks and bugler and the French hussars looked\ +silently at one another from time to time.\ +\ +A French colonel of hussars, who had evidently just left his bed, came\ +riding from the village on a handsome sleek gray horse, accompanied by\ +two hussars. The officer, the soldiers, and their horses all looked\ +smart and well kept.\ +\ +It was that first period of a campaign when troops are still in full\ +trim, almost like that of peacetime maneuvers, but with a shade of\ +martial swagger in their clothes, and a touch of the gaiety and spirit\ +of enterprise which always accompany the opening of a campaign.\ +\ +The French colonel with difficulty repressed a yawn, but was polite and\ +evidently understood Balashev's importance. He led him past his soldiers\ +and behind the outposts and told him that his wish to be presented to\ +the Emperor would most likely be satisfied immediately, as the Emperor's\ +quarters were, he believed, not far off.\ +\ +They rode through the village of Rykonty, past tethered French hussar\ +horses, past sentinels and men who saluted their colonel and stared with\ +curiosity at a Russian uniform, and came out at the other end of the\ +village. The colonel said that the commander of the division was a mile\ +and a quarter away and would receive Balashev and conduct him to his\ +destination.\ +\ +The sun had by now risen and shone gaily on the bright verdure.\ +\ +They had hardly ridden up a hill, past a tavern, before they saw a group\ +of horsemen coming toward them. In front of the group, on a black horse\ +with trappings that glittered in the sun, rode a tall man with plumes in\ +his hat and black hair curling down to his shoulders. He wore a red\ +mantle, and stretched his long legs forward in French fashion. This man\ +rode toward Balashev at a gallop, his plumes flowing and his gems and\ +gold lace glittering in the bright June sunshine.\ +\ +Balashev was only two horses' length from the equestrian with the\ +bracelets, plumes, necklaces, and gold embroidery, who was galloping\ +toward him with a theatrically solemn countenance, when Julner, the\ +French colonel, whispered respectfully: "The King of Naples!" It was, in\ +fact, Murat, now called "King of Naples." Though it was quite\ +incomprehensible why he should be King of Naples, he was called so, and\ +was himself convinced that he was so, and therefore assumed a more\ +solemn and important air than formerly. He was so sure that he really\ +was the King of Naples that when, on the eve of his departure from that\ +city, while walking through the streets with his wife, some Italians\ +called out to him: "Viva il re!" * he turned to his wife with a pensive\ +smile and said: "Poor fellows, they don't know that I am leaving them\ +tomorrow!"\ +\ +\ +* "Long live the king."\ +\ +But though he firmly believed himself to be King of Naples and pitied\ +the grief felt by the subjects he was abandoning, latterly, after he had\ +been ordered to return to military service--and especially since his\ +last interview with Napoleon in Danzig, when his august brother-in-law\ +had told him: "I made you King that you should reign in my way, but not\ +in yours!"--he had cheerfully taken up his familiar business, and--like\ +a well-fed but not overfat horse that feels himself in harness and grows\ +skittish between the shafts--he dressed up in clothes as variegated and\ +expensive as possible, and gaily and contentedly galloped along the\ +roads of Poland, without himself knowing why or whither.\ +\ +On seeing the Russian general he threw back his head, with its long hair\ +curling to his shoulders, in a majestically royal manner, and looked\ +inquiringly at the French colonel. The colonel respectfully informed His\ +Majesty of Balashev's mission, whose name he could not pronounce.\ +\ +"De Bal-macheve!" said the King (overcoming by his assurance the\ +difficulty that had presented itself to the colonel). "Charmed to make\ +your acquaintance, General!" he added, with a gesture of kingly\ +condescension.\ +\ +As soon as the King began to speak loud and fast his royal dignity\ +instantly forsook him, and without noticing it he passed into his\ +natural tone of good-natured familiarity. He laid his hand on the\ +withers of Balashev's horse and said:\ +\ +"Well, General, it all looks like war," as if regretting a circumstance\ +of which he was unable to judge.\ +\ +"Your Majesty," replied Balashev, "my master, the Emperor, does not\ +desire war and as Your Majesty sees..." said Balashev, using the words\ +Your Majesty at every opportunity, with the affectation unavoidable in\ +frequently addressing one to whom the title was still a novelty.\ +\ +Murat's face beamed with stupid satisfaction as he listened to "Monsieur\ +de Bal-macheve." But royaute oblige! * and he felt it incumbent on him,\ +as a king and an ally, to confer on state affairs with Alexander's\ +envoy. He dismounted, took Balashev's arm, and moving a few steps away\ +from his suite, which waited respectfully, began to pace up and down\ +with him, trying to speak significantly. He referred to the fact that\ +the Emperor Napoleon had resented the demand that he should withdraw his\ +troops from Prussia, especially when that demand became generally known\ +and the dignity of France was thereby offended.\ +\ +\ +* "Royalty has its obligations."\ +\ +Balashev replied that there was "nothing offensive in the demand,\ +because..." but Murat interrupted him.\ +\ +"Then you don't consider the Emperor Alexander the aggressor?" he asked\ +unexpectedly, with a kindly and foolish smile.\ +\ +Balashev told him why he considered Napoleon to be the originator of the\ +war.\ +\ +"Oh, my dear general!" Murat again interrupted him, "with all my heart I\ +wish the Emperors may arrange the affair between them, and that the war\ +begun by no wish of mine may finish as quickly as possible!" said he, in\ +the tone of a servant who wants to remain good friends with another\ +despite a quarrel between their masters.\ +\ +And he went on to inquiries about the Grand Duke and the state of his\ +health, and to reminiscences of the gay and amusing times he had spent\ +with him in Naples. Then suddenly, as if remembering his royal dignity,\ +Murat solemnly drew himself up, assumed the pose in which he had stood\ +at his coronation, and, waving his right arm, said:\ +\ +"I won't detain you longer, General. I wish success to your mission,"\ +and with his embroidered red mantle, his flowing feathers, and his\ +glittering ornaments, he rejoined his suite who were respectfully\ +awaiting him.\ +\ +Balashev rode on, supposing from Murat's words that he would very soon\ +be brought before Napoleon himself. But instead of that, at the next\ +village the sentinels of Davout's infantry corps detained him as the\ +pickets of the vanguard had done, and an adjutant of the corps\ +commander, who was fetched, conducted him into the village to Marshal\ +Davout.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER V\ +\ +Davout was to Napoleon what Arakcheev was to Alexander--though not a\ +coward like Arakcheev, he was as precise, as cruel, and as unable to\ +express his devotion to his monarch except by cruelty.\ +\ +In the organism of states such men are necessary, as wolves are\ +necessary in the organism of nature, and they always exist, always\ +appear and hold their own, however incongruous their presence and their\ +proximity to the head of the government may be. This inevitability alone\ +can explain how the cruel Arakcheev, who tore out a grenadier's mustache\ +with his own hands, whose weak nerves rendered him unable to face\ +danger, and who was neither an educated man nor a courtier, was able to\ +maintain his powerful position with Alexander, whose own character was\ +chivalrous, noble, and gentle.\ +\ +Balashev found Davout seated on a barrel in the shed of a peasant's hut,\ +writing--he was auditing accounts. Better quarters could have been found\ +him, but Marshal Davout was one of those men who purposely put\ +themselves in most depressing conditions to have a justification for\ +being gloomy. For the same reason they are always hard at work and in a\ +hurry. "How can I think of the bright side of life when, as you see, I\ +am sitting on a barrel and working in a dirty shed?" the expression of\ +his face seemed to say. The chief pleasure and necessity of such men,\ +when they encounter anyone who shows animation, is to flaunt their own\ +dreary, persistent activity. Davout allowed himself that pleasure when\ +Balashev was brought in. He became still more absorbed in his task when\ +the Russian general entered, and after glancing over his spectacles at\ +Balashev's face, which was animated by the beauty of the morning and by\ +his talk with Murat, he did not rise or even stir, but scowled still\ +more and sneered malevolently.\ +\ +When he noticed in Balashev's face the disagreeable impression this\ +reception produced, Davout raised his head and coldly asked what he\ +wanted.\ +\ +Thinking he could have been received in such a manner only because\ +Davout did not know that he was adjutant general to the Emperor\ +Alexander and even his envoy to Napoleon, Balashev hastened to inform\ +him of his rank and mission. Contrary to his expectation, Davout, after\ +hearing him, became still surlier and ruder.\ +\ +"Where is your dispatch?" he inquired. "Give it to me. I will send it to\ +the Emperor."\ +\ +Balashev replied that he had been ordered to hand it personally to the\ +Emperor.\ +\ +"Your Emperor's orders are obeyed in your army, but here," said Davout,\ +"you must do as you're told."\ +\ +And, as if to make the Russian general still more conscious of his\ +dependence on brute force, Davout sent an adjutant to call the officer\ +on duty.\ +\ +Balashev took out the packet containing the Emperor's letter and laid it\ +on the table (made of a door with its hinges still hanging on it, laid\ +across two barrels). Davout took the packet and read the inscription.\ +\ +"You are perfectly at liberty to treat me with respect or not,"\ +protested Balashev, "but permit me to observe that I have the honor to\ +be adjutant general to His Majesty...."\ +\ +Davout glanced at him silently and plainly derived pleasure from the\ +signs of agitation and confusion which appeared on Balashev's face.\ +\ +"You will be treated as is fitting," said he and, putting the packet in\ +his pocket, left the shed.\ +\ +A minute later the marshal's adjutant, de Castres, came in and conducted\ +Balashev to the quarters assigned him.\ +\ +That day he dined with the marshal, at the same board on the barrels.\ +\ +Next day Davout rode out early and, after asking Balashev to come to\ +him, peremptorily requested him to remain there, to move on with the\ +baggage train should orders come for it to move, and to talk to no one\ +except Monsieur de Castres.\ +\ +After four days of solitude, ennui, and consciousness of his impotence\ +and insignificance--particularly acute by contrast with the sphere of\ +power in which he had so lately moved--and after several marches with\ +the marshal's baggage and the French army, which occupied the whole\ +district, Balashev was brought to Vilna--now occupied by the French--\ +through the very gate by which he had left it four days previously.\ +\ +Next day the imperial gentleman-in-waiting, the Comte de Turenne, came\ +to Balashev and informed him of the Emperor Napoleon's wish to honor him\ +with an audience.\ +\ +Four days before, sentinels of the Preobrazhensk regiment had stood in\ +front of the house to which Balashev was conducted, and now two French\ +grenadiers stood there in blue uniforms unfastened in front and with\ +shaggy caps on their heads, and an escort of hussars and uhlans and a\ +brilliant suite of aides-de-camp, pages, and generals, who were waiting\ +for Napoleon to come out, were standing at the porch, round his saddle\ +horse and his Mameluke, Rustan. Napoleon received Balashev in the very\ +house in Vilna from which Alexander had dispatched him on his mission.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER VI\ +\ +Though Balashev was used to imperial pomp, he was amazed at the luxury\ +and magnificence of Napoleon's court.\ +\ +The Comte de Turenne showed him into a big reception room where many\ +generals, gentlemen-in-waiting, and Polish magnates--several of whom\ +Balashev had seen at the court of the Emperor of Russia--were waiting.\ +Duroc said that Napoleon would receive the Russian general before going\ +for his ride.\ +\ +After some minutes, the gentleman-in-waiting who was on duty came into\ +the great reception room and, bowing politely, asked Balashev to follow\ +him.\ +\ +Balashev went into a small reception room, one door of which led into a\ +study, the very one from which the Russian Emperor had dispatched him on\ +his mission. He stood a minute or two, waiting. He heard hurried\ +footsteps beyond the door, both halves of it were opened rapidly; all\ +was silent and then from the study the sound was heard of other steps,\ +firm and resolute--they were those of Napoleon. He had just finished\ +dressing for his ride, and wore a blue uniform, opening in front over a\ +white waistcoat so long that it covered his rotund stomach, white\ +leather breeches tightly fitting the fat thighs of his short legs, and\ +Hessian boots. His short hair had evidently just been brushed, but one\ +lock hung down in the middle of his broad forehead. His plump white neck\ +stood out sharply above the black collar of his uniform, and he smelled\ +of Eau de Cologne. His full face, rather young-looking, with its\ +prominent chin, wore a gracious and majestic expression of imperial\ +welcome.\ +\ +He entered briskly, with a jerk at every step and his head slightly\ +thrown back. His whole short corpulent figure with broad thick\ +shoulders, and chest and stomach involuntarily protruding, had that\ +imposing and stately appearance one sees in men of forty who live in\ +comfort. It was evident, too, that he was in the best of spirits that\ +day.\ +\ +He nodded in answer to Balashav's low and respectful bow, and coming up\ +to him at once began speaking like a man who values every moment of his\ +time and does not condescend to prepare what he has to say but is sure\ +he will always say the right thing and say it well.\ +\ +"Good day, General!" said he. "I have received the letter you brought\ +from the Emperor Alexander and am very glad to see you." He glanced with\ +his large eyes into Balashav's face and immediately looked past him.\ +\ +It was plain that Balashev's personality did not interest him at all.\ +Evidently only what took place within his own mind interested him.\ +Nothing outside himself had any significance for him, because everything\ +in the world, it seemed to him, depended entirely on his will.\ +\ +"I do not, and did not, desire war," he continued, "but it has been\ +forced on me. Even now" (he emphasized the word) "I am ready to receive\ +any explanations you can give me."\ +\ +And he began clearly and concisely to explain his reasons for\ +dissatisfaction with the Russian government. Judging by the calmly\ +moderate and amicable tone in which the French Emperor spoke, Balashev\ +was firmly persuaded that he wished for peace and intended to enter into\ +negotiations.\ +\ +When Napoleon, having finished speaking, looked inquiringly at the\ +Russian envoy, Balashev began a speech he had prepared long before:\ +"Sire! The Emperor, my master..." but the sight of the Emperor's eyes\ +bent on him confused him. "You are flurried--compose yourself!" Napoleon\ +seemed to say, as with a scarcely perceptible smile he looked at\ +Balashev's uniform and sword.\ +\ +Balashev recovered himself and began to speak. He said that the Emperor\ +Alexander did not consider Kurakin's demand for his passports a\ +sufficient cause for war; that Kurakin had acted on his own initiative\ +and without his sovereign's assent, that the Emperor Alexander did not\ +desire war, and had no relations with England.\ +\ +"Not yet!" interposed Napoleon, and, as if fearing to give vent to his\ +feelings, he frowned and nodded slightly as a sign that Balashev might\ +proceed.\ +\ +After saying all he had been instructed to say, Balashev added that the\ +Emperor Alexander wished for peace, but would not enter into\ +negotiations except on condition that... Here Balashev hesitated: he\ +remembered the words the Emperor Alexander had not written in his\ +letter, but had specially inserted in the rescript to Saltykov and had\ +told Balashev to repeat to Napoleon. Balashev remembered these words,\ +"So long as a single armed foe remains on Russian soil," but some\ +complex feeling restrained him. He could not utter them, though he\ +wished to do so. He grew confused and said: "On condition that the\ +French army retires beyond the Niemen."\ +\ +Napoleon noticed Balashev's embarrassment when uttering these last\ +words; his face twitched and the calf of his left leg began to quiver\ +rhythmically. Without moving from where he stood he began speaking in a\ +louder tone and more hurriedly than before. During the speech that\ +followed, Balashev, who more than once lowered his eyes, involuntarily\ +noticed the quivering of Napoleon's left leg which increased the more\ +Napoleon raised his voice.\ +\ +"I desire peace, no less than the Emperor Alexander," he began. "Have I\ +not for eighteen months been doing everything to obtain it? I have\ +waited eighteen months for explanations. But in order to begin\ +negotiations, what is demanded of me?" he said, frowning and making an\ +energetic gesture of inquiry with his small white plump hand.\ +\ +"The withdrawal of your army beyond the Niemen, sire," replied Balashev.\ +\ +"The Niemen?" repeated Napoleon. "So now you want me to retire beyond\ +the Niemen--only the Niemen?" repeated Napoleon, looking straight at\ +Balashev.\ +\ +The latter bowed his head respectfully.\ +\ +Instead of the demand of four months earlier to withdraw from Pomerania,\ +only a withdrawal beyond the Niemen was now demanded. Napoleon turned\ +quickly and began to pace the room.\ +\ +"You say the demand now is that I am to withdraw beyond the Niemen\ +before commencing negotiations, but in just the same way two months ago\ +the demand was that I should withdraw beyond the Vistula and the Oder,\ +and yet you are willing to negotiate."\ +\ +He went in silence from one corner of the room to the other and again\ +stopped in front of Balashev. Balashev noticed that his left leg was\ +quivering faster than before and his face seemed petrified in its stern\ +expression. This quivering of his left leg was a thing Napoleon was\ +conscious of. "The vibration of my left calf is a great sign with me,"\ +he remarked at a later date.\ +\ +"Such demands as to retreat beyond the Vistula and Oder may be made to a\ +Prince of Baden, but not to me!" Napoleon almost screamed, quite to his\ +own surprise. "If you gave me Petersburg and Moscow I could not accept\ +such conditions. You say I have begun this war! But who first joined his\ +army? The Emperor Alexander, not I! And you offer me negotiations when I\ +have expended millions, when you are in alliance with England, and when\ +your position is a bad one. You offer me negotiations! But what is the\ +aim of your alliance with England? What has she given you?" he continued\ +hurriedly, evidently no longer trying to show the advantages of peace\ +and discuss its possibility, but only to prove his own rectitude and\ +power and Alexander's errors and duplicity.\ +\ +The commencement of his speech had obviously been made with the\ +intention of demonstrating the advantages of his position and showing\ +that he was nevertheless willing to negotiate. But he had begun talking,\ +and the more he talked the less could he control his words.\ +\ +The whole purport of his remarks now was evidently to exalt himself and\ +insult Alexander--just what he had least desired at the commencement of\ +the interview.\ +\ +"I hear you have made peace with Turkey?"\ +\ +Balashev bowed his head affirmatively.\ +\ +"Peace has been concluded..." he began.\ +\ +But Napoleon did not let him speak. He evidently wanted to do all the\ +talking himself, and continued to talk with the sort of eloquence and\ +unrestrained irritability to which spoiled people are so prone.\ +\ +"Yes, I know you have made peace with the Turks without obtaining\ +Moldavia and Wallachia; I would have given your sovereign those\ +provinces as I gave him Finland. Yes," he went on, "I promised and would\ +have given the Emperor Alexander Moldavia and Wallachia, and now he\ +won't have those splendid provinces. Yet he might have united them to\ +his empire and in a single reign would have extended Russia from the\ +Gulf of Bothnia to the mouths of the Danube. Catherine the Great could\ +not have done more," said Napoleon, growing more and more excited as he\ +paced up and down the room, repeating to Balashev almost the very words\ +he had used to Alexander himself at Tilsit. "All that, he would have\ +owed to my friendship. Oh, what a splendid reign!" he repeated several\ +times, then paused, drew from his pocket a gold snuffbox, lifted it to\ +his nose, and greedily sniffed at it.\ +\ +"What a splendid reign the Emperor Alexander's might have been!"\ +\ +He looked compassionately at Balashev, and as soon as the latter tried\ +to make some rejoinder hastily interrupted him.\ +\ +"What could he wish or look for that he would not have obtained through\ +my friendship?" demanded Napoleon, shrugging his shoulders in\ +perplexity. "But no, he has preferred to surround himself with my\ +enemies, and with whom? With Steins, Armfeldts, Bennigsens, and\ +Wintzingerodes! Stein, a traitor expelled from his own country;\ +Armfeldt, a rake and an intriguer; Wintzingerode, a fugitive French\ +subject; Bennigsen, rather more of a soldier than the others, but all\ +the same an incompetent who was unable to do anything in 1807 and who\ +should awaken terrible memories in the Emperor Alexander's mind....\ +Granted that were they competent they might be made use of," continued\ +Napoleon--hardly able to keep pace in words with the rush of thoughts\ +that incessantly sprang up, proving how right and strong he was (in his\ +perception the two were one and the same)--"but they are not even that!\ +They are neither fit for war nor peace! Barclay is said to be the most\ +capable of them all, but I cannot say so, judging by his first\ +movements. And what are they doing, all these courtiers? Pfuel proposes,\ +Armfeldt disputes, Bennigsen considers, and Barclay, called on to act,\ +does not know what to decide on, and time passes bringing no result.\ +Bagration alone is a military man. He's stupid, but he has experience, a\ +quick eye, and resolution.... And what role is your young monarch\ +playing in that monstrous crowd? They compromise him and throw on him\ +the responsibility for all that happens. A sovereign should not be with\ +the army unless he is a general!" said Napoleon, evidently uttering\ +these words as a direct challenge to the Emperor. He knew how Alexander\ +desired to be a military commander.\ +\ +"The campaign began only a week ago, and you haven't even been able to\ +defend Vilna. You are cut in two and have been driven out of the Polish\ +provinces. Your army is grumbling."\ +\ +"On the contrary, Your Majesty," said Balashev, hardly able to remember\ +what had been said to him and following these verbal fireworks with\ +difficulty, "the troops are burning with eagerness..."\ +\ +"I know everything!" Napoleon interrupted him. "I know everything. I\ +know the number of your battalions as exactly as I know my own. You have\ +not two hundred thousand men, and I have three times that number. I give\ +you my word of honor," said Napoleon, forgetting that his word of honor\ +could carry no weight--"I give you my word of honor that I have five\ +hundred and thirty thousand men this side of the Vistula. The Turks will\ +be of no use to you; they are worth nothing and have shown it by making\ +peace with you. As for the Swedes--it is their fate to be governed by\ +mad kings. Their king was insane and they changed him for another--\ +Bernadotte, who promptly went mad--for no Swede would ally himself with\ +Russia unless he were mad."\ +\ +Napoleon grinned maliciously and again raised his snuffbox to his nose.\ +\ +Balashev knew how to reply to each of Napoleon's remarks, and would have\ +done so; he continually made the gesture of a man wishing to say\ +something, but Napoleon always interrupted him. To the alleged insanity\ +of the Swedes, Balashev wished to reply that when Russia is on her side\ +Sweden is practically an island: but Napoleon gave an angry exclamation\ +to drown his voice. Napoleon was in that state of irritability in which\ +a man has to talk, talk, and talk, merely to convince himself that he is\ +in the right. Balashev began to feel uncomfortable: as envoy he feared\ +to demean his dignity and felt the necessity of replying; but, as a man,\ +he shrank before the transport of groundless wrath that had evidently\ +seized Napoleon. He knew that none of the words now uttered by Napoleon\ +had any significance, and that Napoleon himself would be ashamed of them\ +when he came to his senses. Balashev stood with downcast eyes, looking\ +at the movements of Napoleon's stout legs and trying to avoid meeting\ +his eyes.\ +\ +"But what do I care about your allies?" said Napoleon. "I have allies--\ +the Poles. There are eighty thousand of them and they fight like lions.\ +And there will be two hundred thousand of them."\ +\ +And probably still more perturbed by the fact that he had uttered this\ +obvious falsehood, and that Balashev still stood silently before him in\ +the same attitude of submission to fate, Napoleon abruptly turned round,\ +drew close to Balashev's face, and, gesticulating rapidly and\ +energetically with his white hands, almost shouted:\ +\ +"Know that if you stir up Prussia against me, I'll wipe it off the map\ +of Europe!" he declared, his face pale and distorted by anger, and he\ +struck one of his small hands energetically with the other. "Yes, I will\ +throw you back beyond the Dvina and beyond the Dnieper, and will re-\ +erect against you that barrier which it was criminal and blind of Europe\ +to allow to be destroyed. Yes, that is what will happen to you. That is\ +what you have gained by alienating me!" And he walked silently several\ +times up and down the room, his fat shoulders twitching.\ +\ +He put his snuffbox into his waistcoat pocket, took it out again, lifted\ +it several times to his nose, and stopped in front of Balashev. He\ +paused, looked ironically straight into Balashev's eyes, and said in a\ +quiet voice:\ +\ +"And yet what a splendid reign your master might have had!"\ +\ +Balashev, feeling it incumbent on him to reply, said that from the\ +Russian side things did not appear in so gloomy a light. Napoleon was\ +silent, still looking derisively at him and evidently not listening to\ +him. Balashev said that in Russia the best results were expected from\ +the war. Napoleon nodded condescendingly, as if to say, "I know it's\ +your duty to say that, but you don't believe it yourself. I have\ +convinced you."\ +\ +When Balashev had ended, Napoleon again took out his snuffbox, sniffed\ +at it, and stamped his foot twice on the floor as a signal. The door\ +opened, a gentleman-in-waiting, bending respectfully, handed the Emperor\ +his hat and gloves; another brought him a pocket handkerchief. Napoleon,\ +without giving them a glance, turned to Balashev:\ +\ +"Assure the Emperor Alexander from me," said he, taking his hat, "that I\ +am as devoted to him as before: I know him thoroughly and very highly\ +esteem his lofty qualities. I will detain you no longer, General; you\ +shall receive my letter to the Emperor."\ +\ +And Napoleon went quickly to the door. Everyone in the reception room\ +rushed forward and descended the staircase.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER VII\ +\ +After all that Napoleon had said to him--those bursts of anger and the\ +last dryly spoken words: "I will detain you no longer, General; you\ +shall receive my letter," Balashev felt convinced that Napoleon would\ +not wish to see him, and would even avoid another meeting with him--an\ +insulted envoy--especially as he had witnessed his unseemly anger. But,\ +to his surprise, Balashev received, through Duroc, an invitation to dine\ +with the Emperor that day.\ +\ +Bessieres, Caulaincourt, and Berthier were present at that dinner.\ +\ +Napoleon met Balashev cheerfully and amiably. He not only showed no sign\ +of constraint or self-reproach on account of his outburst that morning,\ +but, on the contrary, tried to reassure Balashev. It was evident that he\ +had long been convinced that it was impossible for him to make a\ +mistake, and that in his perception whatever he did was right, not\ +because it harmonized with any idea of right and wrong, but because he\ +did it.\ +\ +The Emperor was in very good spirits after his ride through Vilna, where\ +crowds of people had rapturously greeted and followed him. From all the\ +windows of the streets through which he rode, rugs, flags, and his\ +monogram were displayed, and the Polish ladies, welcoming him, waved\ +their handkerchiefs to him.\ +\ +At dinner, having placed Balashev beside him, Napoleon not only treated\ +him amiably but behaved as if Balashev were one of his own courtiers,\ +one of those who sympathized with his plans and ought to rejoice at his\ +success. In the course of conversation he mentioned Moscow and\ +questioned Balashev about the Russian capital, not merely as an\ +interested traveler asks about a new city he intends to visit, but as if\ +convinced that Balashev, as a Russian, must be flattered by his\ +curiosity.\ +\ +"How many inhabitants are there in Moscow? How many houses? Is it true\ +that Moscow is called 'Holy Moscow'? How many churches are there in\ +Moscow?" he asked.\ +\ +And receiving the reply that there were more than two hundred churches,\ +he remarked:\ +\ +"Why such a quantity of churches?"\ +\ +"The Russians are very devout," replied Balashev.\ +\ +"But a large number of monasteries and churches is always a sign of the\ +backwardness of a people," said Napoleon, turning to Caulaincourt for\ +appreciation of this remark.\ +\ +Balashev respectfully ventured to disagree with the French Emperor.\ +\ +"Every country has its own character," said he.\ +\ +"But nowhere in Europe is there anything like that," said Napoleon.\ +\ +"I beg your Majesty's pardon," returned Balashev, "besides Russia there\ +is Spain, where there are also many churches and monasteries."\ +\ +This reply of Balashev's, which hinted at the recent defeats of the\ +French in Spain, was much appreciated when he related it at Alexander's\ +court, but it was not much appreciated at Napoleon's dinner, where it\ +passed unnoticed.\ +\ +The uninterested and perplexed faces of the marshals showed that they\ +were puzzled as to what Balashev's tone suggested. "If there is a point\ +we don't see it, or it is not at all witty," their expressions seemed to\ +say. So little was his rejoinder appreciated that Napoleon did not\ +notice it at all and naively asked Balashev through what towns the\ +direct road from there to Moscow passed. Balashev, who was on the alert\ +all through the dinner, replied that just as "all roads lead to Rome,"\ +so all roads lead to Moscow: there were many roads, and "among them the\ +road through Poltava, which Charles XII chose." Balashev involuntarily\ +flushed with pleasure at the aptitude of this reply, but hardly had he\ +uttered the word Poltava before Caulaincourt began speaking of the\ +badness of the road from Petersburg to Moscow and of his Petersburg\ +reminiscences.\ +\ +After dinner they went to drink coffee in Napoleon's study, which four\ +days previously had been that of the Emperor Alexander. Napoleon sat\ +down, toying with his Sevres coffee cup, and motioned Balashev to a\ +chair beside him.\ +\ +Napoleon was in that well-known after-dinner mood which, more than any\ +reasoned cause, makes a man contented with himself and disposed to\ +consider everyone his friend. It seemed to him that he was surrounded by\ +men who adored him: and he felt convinced that, after his dinner,\ +Balashev too was his friend and worshiper. Napoleon turned to him with a\ +pleasant, though slightly ironic, smile.\ +\ +"They tell me this is the room the Emperor Alexander occupied? Strange,\ +isn't it, General?" he said, evidently not doubting that this remark\ +would be agreeable to his hearer since it went to prove his, Napoleon's,\ +superiority to Alexander.\ +\ +Balashev made no reply and bowed his head in silence.\ +\ +"Yes. Four days ago in this room, Wintzingerode and Stein were\ +deliberating," continued Napoleon with the same derisive and self-\ +confident smile. "What I can't understand," he went on, "is that the\ +Emperor Alexander has surrounded himself with my personal enemies. That\ +I do not... understand. Has he not thought that I may do the same?" and\ +he turned inquiringly to Balashev, and evidently this thought turned him\ +back on to the track of his morning's anger, which was still fresh in\ +him.\ +\ +"And let him know that I will do so!" said Napoleon, rising and pushing\ +his cup away with his hand. "I'll drive all his Wurttemberg, Baden, and\ +Weimar relations out of Germany.... Yes. I'll drive them out. Let him\ +prepare an asylum for them in Russia!"\ +\ +Balashev bowed his head with an air indicating that he would like to\ +make his bow and leave, and only listened because he could not help\ +hearing what was said to him. Napoleon did not notice this expression;\ +he treated Balashev not as an envoy from his enemy, but as a man now\ +fully devoted to him and who must rejoice at his former master's\ +humiliation.\ +\ +"And why has the Emperor Alexander taken command of the armies? What is\ +the good of that? War is my profession, but his business is to reign and\ +not to command armies! Why has he taken on himself such a\ +responsibility?"\ +\ +Again Napoleon brought out his snuffbox, paced several times up and down\ +the room in silence, and then, suddenly and unexpectedly, went up to\ +Balashev and with a slight smile, as confidently, quickly, and simply as\ +if he were doing something not merely important but pleasing to\ +Balashev, he raised his hand to the forty-year-old Russian general's\ +face and, taking him by the ear, pulled it gently, smiling with his lips\ +only.\ +\ +To have one's ear pulled by the Emperor was considered the greatest\ +honor and mark of favor at the French court.\ +\ +"Well, adorer and courtier of the Emperor Alexander, why don't you say\ +anything?" said he, as if it was ridiculous, in his presence, to be the\ +adorer and courtier of anyone but himself, Napoleon. "Are the horses\ +ready for the general?" he added, with a slight inclination of his head\ +in reply to Balashev's bow. "Let him have mine, he has a long way to\ +go!"\ +\ +The letter taken by Balashev was the last Napoleon sent to Alexander.\ +Every detail of the interview was communicated to the Russian monarch,\ +and the war began...\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER VIII\ +\ +After his interview with Pierre in Moscow, Prince Andrew went to\ +Petersburg, on business as he told his family, but really to meet\ +Anatole Kuragin whom he felt it necessary to encounter. On reaching\ +Petersburg he inquired for Kuragin but the latter had already left the\ +city. Pierre had warned his brother-in-law that Prince Andrew was on his\ +track. Anatole Kuragin promptly obtained an appointment from the\ +Minister of War and went to join the army in Moldavia. While in\ +Petersburg Prince Andrew met Kutuzov, his former commander who was\ +always well disposed toward him, and Kutuzov suggested that he should\ +accompany him to the army in Moldavia, to which the old general had been\ +appointed commander-in-chief. So Prince Andrew, having received an\ +appointment on the headquarters staff, left for Turkey.\ +\ +Prince Andrew did not think it proper to write and challenge Kuragin. He\ +thought that if he challenged him without some fresh cause it might\ +compromise the young Countess Rostova and so he wanted to meet Kuragin\ +personally in order to find a fresh pretext for a duel. But he again\ +failed to meet Kuragin in Turkey, for soon after Prince Andrew arrived,\ +the latter returned to Russia. In a new country, amid new conditions,\ +Prince Andrew found life easier to bear. After his betrothed had broken\ +faith with him--which he felt the more acutely the more he tried to\ +conceal its effects--the surroundings in which he had been happy became\ +trying to him, and the freedom and independence he had once prized so\ +highly were still more so. Not only could he no longer think the\ +thoughts that had first come to him as he lay gazing at the sky on the\ +field of Austerlitz and had later enlarged upon with Pierre, and which\ +had filled his solitude at Bogucharovo and then in Switzerland and Rome,\ +but he even dreaded to recall them and the bright and boundless horizons\ +they had revealed. He was now concerned only with the nearest practical\ +matters unrelated to his past interests, and he seized on these the more\ +eagerly the more those past interests were closed to him. It was as if\ +that lofty, infinite canopy of heaven that had once towered above him\ +had suddenly turned into a low, solid vault that weighed him down, in\ +which all was clear, but nothing eternal or mysterious.\ +\ +Of the activities that presented themselves to him, army service was the\ +simplest and most familiar. As a general on duty on Kutuzov's staff, he\ +applied himself to business with zeal and perseverance and surprised\ +Kutuzov by his willingness and accuracy in work. Not having found\ +Kuragin in Turkey, Prince Andrew did not think it necessary to rush back\ +to Russia after him, but all the same he knew that however long it might\ +be before he met Kuragin, despite his contempt for him and despite all\ +the proofs he deduced to convince himself that it was not worth stooping\ +to a conflict with him--he knew that when he did meet him he would not\ +be able to resist calling him out, any more than a ravenous man can help\ +snatching at food. And the consciousness that the insult was not yet\ +avenged, that his rancor was still unspent, weighed on his heart and\ +poisoned the artificial tranquillity which he managed to obtain in\ +Turkey by means of restless, plodding, and rather vainglorious and\ +ambitious activity.\ +\ +In the year 1812, when news of the war with Napoleon reached Bucharest--\ +where Kutuzov had been living for two months, passing his days and\ +nights with a Wallachian woman--Prince Andrew asked Kutuzov to transfer\ +him to the Western Army. Kutuzov, who was already weary of Bolkonski's\ +activity which seemed to reproach his own idleness, very readily let him\ +go and gave him a mission to Barclay de Tolly.\ +\ +Before joining the Western Army which was then, in May, encamped at\ +Drissa, Prince Andrew visited Bald Hills which was directly on his way,\ +being only two miles off the Smolensk highroad. During the last three\ +years there had been so many changes in his life, he had thought, felt,\ +and seen so much (having traveled both in the east and the west), that\ +on reaching Bald Hills it struck him as strange and unexpected to find\ +the way of life there unchanged and still the same in every detail. He\ +entered through the gates with their stone pillars and drove up the\ +avenue leading to the house as if he were entering an enchanted,\ +sleeping castle. The same old stateliness, the same cleanliness, the\ +same stillness reigned there, and inside there was the same furniture,\ +the same walls, sounds, and smell, and the same timid faces, only\ +somewhat older. Princess Mary was still the same timid, plain maiden\ +getting on in years, uselessly and joylessly passing the best years of\ +her life in fear and constant suffering. Mademoiselle Bourienne was the\ +same coquettish, self-satisfied girl, enjoying every moment of her\ +existence and full of joyous hopes for the future. She had merely become\ +more self-confident, Prince Andrew thought. Dessalles, the tutor he had\ +brought from Switzerland, was wearing a coat of Russian cut and talking\ +broken Russian to the servants, but was still the same narrowly\ +intelligent, conscientious, and pedantic preceptor. The old prince had\ +changed in appearance only by the loss of a tooth, which left a\ +noticeable gap on one side of his mouth; in character he was the same as\ +ever, only showing still more irritability and skepticism as to what was\ +happening in the world. Little Nicholas alone had changed. He had grown,\ +become rosier, had curly dark hair, and, when merry and laughing, quite\ +unconsciously lifted the upper lip of his pretty little mouth just as\ +the little princess used to do. He alone did not obey the law of\ +immutability in the enchanted, sleeping castle. But though externally\ +all remained as of old, the inner relations of all these people had\ +changed since Prince Andrew had seen them last. The household was\ +divided into two alien and hostile camps, who changed their habits for\ +his sake and only met because he was there. To the one camp belonged the\ +old prince, Mademoiselle Bourienne, and the architect; to the other\ +Princess Mary, Dessalles, little Nicholas, and all the old nurses and\ +maids.\ +\ +During his stay at Bald Hills all the family dined together, but they\ +were ill at ease and Prince Andrew felt that he was a visitor for whose\ +sake an exception was being made and that his presence made them all\ +feel awkward. Involuntarily feeling this at dinner on the first day, he\ +was taciturn, and the old prince noticing this also became morosely dumb\ +and retired to his apartments directly after dinner. In the evening,\ +when Prince Andrew went to him and, trying to rouse him, began to tell\ +him of the young Count Kamensky's campaign, the old prince began\ +unexpectedly to talk about Princess Mary, blaming her for her\ +superstitions and her dislike of Mademoiselle Bourienne, who, he said,\ +was the only person really attached to him.\ +\ +The old prince said that if he was ill it was only because of Princess\ +Mary: that she purposely worried and irritated him, and that by\ +indulgence and silly talk she was spoiling little Prince Nicholas. The\ +old prince knew very well that he tormented his daughter and that her\ +life was very hard, but he also knew that he could not help tormenting\ +her and that she deserved it. "Why does Prince Andrew, who sees this,\ +say nothing to me about his sister? Does he think me a scoundrel, or an\ +old fool who, without any reason, keeps his own daughter at a distance\ +and attaches this Frenchwoman to himself? He doesn't understand, so I\ +must explain it, and he must hear me out," thought the old prince. And\ +he began explaining why he could not put up with his daughter's\ +unreasonable character.\ +\ +"If you ask me," said Prince Andrew, without looking up (he was\ +censuring his father for the first time in his life), "I did not wish to\ +speak about it, but as you ask me I will give you my frank opinion. If\ +there is any misunderstanding and discord between you and Mary, I can't\ +blame her for it at all. I know how she loves and respects you. Since\ +you ask me," continued Prince Andrew, becoming irritable--as he was\ +always liable to do of late--"I can only say that if there are any\ +misunderstandings they are caused by that worthless woman, who is not\ +fit to be my sister's companion."\ +\ +The old man at first stared fixedly at his son, and an unnatural smile\ +disclosed the fresh gap between his teeth to which Prince Andrew could\ +not get accustomed.\ +\ +"What companion, my dear boy? Eh? You've already been talking it over!\ +Eh?"\ +\ +"Father, I did not want to judge," said Prince Andrew, in a hard and\ +bitter tone, "but you challenged me, and I have said, and always shall\ +say, that Mary is not to blame, but those to blame--the one to blame--is\ +that Frenchwoman."\ +\ +"Ah, he has passed judgment... passed judgement!" said the old man in a\ +low voice and, as it seemed to Prince Andrew, with some embarrassment,\ +but then he suddenly jumped up and cried: "Be off, be off! Let not a\ +trace of you remain here!..."\ +\ +Prince Andrew wished to leave at once, but Princess Mary persuaded him\ +to stay another day. That day he did not see his father, who did not\ +leave his room and admitted no one but Mademoiselle Bourienne and\ +Tikhon, but asked several times whether his son had gone. Next day,\ +before leaving, Prince Andrew went to his son's rooms. The boy, curly-\ +headed like his mother and glowing with health, sat on his knee, and\ +Prince Andrew began telling him the story of Bluebeard, but fell into a\ +reverie without finishing the story. He thought not of this pretty\ +child, his son whom he held on his knee, but of himself. He sought in\ +himself either remorse for having angered his father or regret at\ +leaving home for the first time in his life on bad terms with him, and\ +was horrified to find neither. What meant still more to him was that he\ +sought and did not find in himself the former tenderness for his son\ +which he had hoped to reawaken by caressing the boy and taking him on\ +his knee.\ +\ +"Well, go on!" said his son.\ +\ +Prince Andrew, without replying, put him down from his knee and went out\ +of the room.\ +\ +As soon as Prince Andrew had given up his daily occupations, and\ +especially on returning to the old conditions of life amid which he had\ +been happy, weariness of life overcame him with its former intensity,\ +and he hastened to escape from these memories and to find some work as\ +soon as possible.\ +\ +"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 to 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.\ +\ +Princess Mary begged him to stay one day more, saying that she knew how\ +unhappy her father would be if Andrew left without being reconciled to\ +him, but Prince Andrew replied that he would probably soon be back again\ +from the army and would certainly write to his father, but that the\ +longer he stayed now the more embittered their differences would become.\ +\ +"Good-bye, Andrew! Remember that misfortunes come from God, and men are\ +never to blame," were the last words he heard from his sister when he\ +took leave of her.\ +\ +"Then it must be so!" thought Prince Andrew as he drove out of the\ +avenue from the house at Bald Hills. "She, poor innocent creature, is\ +left to be victimized by an old man who has outlived his wits. The old\ +man feels he is guilty, but cannot change himself. My boy is growing up\ +and rejoices in life, in which like everybody else he will deceive or be\ +deceived. And I am off to the army. Why? I myself don't know. I want to\ +meet that man whom I despise, so as to give him a chance to kill and\ +laugh at me!"\ +\ +These conditions of life had been the same before, but then they were\ +all connected, while now they had all tumbled to pieces. Only senseless\ +things, lacking coherence, presented themselves one after another to\ +Prince Andrew's mind.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER IX\ +\ +Prince Andrew reached the general headquarters of the army at the end of\ +June. The first army, with which was the Emperor, occupied the fortified\ +camp at Drissa; the second army was retreating, trying to effect a\ +junction with the first one from which it was said to be cut off by\ +large French forces. Everyone was dissatisfied with the general course\ +of affairs in the Russian army, but no one anticipated any danger of\ +invasion of the Russian provinces, and no one thought the war would\ +extend farther than the western, the Polish, provinces.\ +\ +Prince Andrew found Barclay de Tolly, to whom he had been assigned, on\ +the bank of the Drissa. As there was not a single town or large village\ +in the vicinity of the camp, the immense number of generals and\ +courtiers accompanying the army were living in the best houses of the\ +villages on both sides of the river, over a radius of six miles. Barclay\ +de Tolly was quartered nearly three miles from the Emperor. He received\ +Bolkonski stiffly and coldly and told him in his foreign accent that he\ +would mention him to the Emperor for a decision as to his employment,\ +but asked him meanwhile to remain on his staff. Anatole Kuragin, whom\ +Prince Andrew had hoped to find with the army, was not there. He had\ +gone to Petersburg, but Prince Andrew was glad to hear this. His mind\ +was occupied by the interests of the center that was conducting a\ +gigantic war, and he was glad to be free for a while from the\ +distraction caused by the thought of Kuragin. During the first four\ +days, while no duties were required of him, Prince Andrew rode round the\ +whole fortified camp and, by the aid of his own knowledge and by talks\ +with experts, tried to form a definite opinion about it. But the\ +question whether the camp was advantageous or disadvantageous remained\ +for him undecided. Already from his military experience and what he had\ +seen in the Austrian campaign, he had come to the conclusion that in war\ +the most deeply considered plans have no significance and that all\ +depends on the way unexpected movements of the enemy--that cannot be\ +foreseen--are met, and on how and by whom the whole matter is handled.\ +To clear up this last point for himself, Prince Andrew, utilizing his\ +position and acquaintances, tried to fathom the character of the control\ +of the army and of the men and parties engaged in it, and he deduced for\ +himself the following of the state of affairs.\ +\ +While the Emperor had still been at Vilna, the forces had been divided\ +into three armies. First, the army under Barclay de Tolly, secondly, the\ +army under Bagration, and thirdly, the one commanded by Tormasov. The\ +Emperor was with the first army, but not as commander-in-chief. In the\ +orders issued it was stated, not that the Emperor would take command,\ +but only that he would be with the army. The Emperor, moreover, had with\ +him not a commander-in-chief's staff but the imperial headquarters\ +staff. In attendance on him was the head of the imperial staff,\ +Quartermaster General Prince Volkonski, as well as generals, imperial\ +aides-de-camp, diplomatic officials, and a large number of foreigners,\ +but not the army staff. Besides these, there were in attendance on the\ +Emperor without any definite appointments: Arakcheev, the ex-Minister of\ +War; Count Bennigsen, the senior general in rank; the Grand Duke\ +Tsarevich Constantine Pavlovich; Count Rumyantsev, the Chancellor;\ +Stein, a former Prussian minister; Armfeldt, a Swedish general; Pfuel,\ +the chief author of the plan of campaign; Paulucci, an adjutant general\ +and Sardinian emigre; Wolzogen--and many others. Though these men had no\ +military appointment in the army, their position gave them influence,\ +and often a corps commander, or even the commander-in-chief, did not\ +know in what capacity he was questioned by Bennigsen, the Grand Duke,\ +Arakcheev, or Prince Volkonski, or was given this or that advice and did\ +not know whether a certain order received in the form of advice emanated\ +from the man who gave it or from the Emperor and whether it had to be\ +executed or not. But this was only the external condition; the essential\ +significance of the presence of the Emperor and of all these people,\ +from a courtier's point of view (and in an Emperor's vicinity all became\ +courtiers), was clear to everyone. It was this: the Emperor did not\ +assume the title of commander-in-chief, but disposed of all the armies;\ +the men around him were his assistants. Arakcheev was a faithful\ +custodian to enforce order and acted as the sovereign's bodyguard.\ +Bennigsen was a landlord in the Vilna province who appeared to be doing\ +the honors of the district, but was in reality a good general, useful as\ +an adviser and ready at hand to replace Barclay. The Grand Duke was\ +there because it suited him to be. The ex-Minister Stein was there\ +because his advice was useful and the Emperor Alexander held him in high\ +esteem personally. Armfeldt virulently hated Napoleon and was a general\ +full of self-confidence, a quality that always influenced Alexander.\ +Paulucci was there because he was bold and decided in speech. The\ +adjutants general were there because they always accompanied the\ +Emperor, and lastly and chiefly Pfuel was there because he had drawn up\ +the plan of campaign against Napoleon and, having induced Alexander to\ +believe in the efficacy of that plan, was directing the whole business\ +of the war. With Pfuel was Wolzogen, who expressed Pfuel's thoughts in a\ +more comprehensible way than Pfuel himself (who was a harsh, bookish\ +theorist, self-confident to the point of despising everyone else) was\ +able to do.\ +\ +Besides these Russians and foreigners who propounded new and unexpected\ +ideas every day--especially the foreigners, who did so with a boldness\ +characteristic of people employed in a country not their own--there were\ +many secondary personages accompanying the army because their principals\ +were there.\ +\ +Among the opinions and voices in this immense, restless, brilliant, and\ +proud sphere, Prince Andrew noticed the following sharply defined\ +subdivisions of tendencies and parties:\ +\ +The first party consisted of Pfuel and his adherents--military theorists\ +who believed in a science of war with immutable laws--laws of oblique\ +movements, outflankings, and so forth. Pfuel and his adherents demanded\ +a retirement into the depths of the country in accordance with precise\ +laws defined by a pseudo-theory of war, and they saw only barbarism,\ +ignorance, or evil intention in every deviation from that theory. To\ +this party belonged the foreign nobles, Wolzogen, Wintzingerode, and\ +others, chiefly Germans.\ +\ +The second party was directly opposed to the first; one extreme, as\ +always happens, was met by representatives of the other. The members of\ +this party were those who had demanded an advance from Vilna into Poland\ +and freedom from all prearranged plans. Besides being advocates of bold\ +action, this section also represented nationalism, which made them still\ +more one-sided in the dispute. They were Russians: Bagration, Ermolov\ +(who was beginning to come to the front), and others. At that time a\ +famous joke of Ermolov's was being circulated, that as a great favor he\ +had petitioned the Emperor to make him a German. The men of that party,\ +remembering Suvorov, said that what one had to do was not to reason, or\ +stick pins into maps, but to fight, beat the enemy, keep him out of\ +Russia, and not let the army get discouraged.\ +\ +To the third party--in which the Emperor had most confidence--belonged\ +the courtiers who tried to arrange compromises between the other two.\ +The members of this party, chiefly civilians and to whom Arakcheev\ +belonged, thought and said what men who have no convictions but wish to\ +seem to have some generally say. They said that undoubtedly war,\ +particularly against such a genius as Bonaparte (they called him\ +Bonaparte now), needs most deeply devised plans and profound scientific\ +knowledge and in that respect Pfuel was a genius, but at the same time\ +it had to be acknowledged that the theorists are often one-sided, and\ +therefore one should not trust them absolutely, but should also listen\ +to what Pfuel's opponents and practical men of experience in warfare had\ +to say, and then choose a middle course. They insisted on the retention\ +of the camp at Drissa, according to Pfuel's plan, but on changing the\ +movements of the other armies. Though, by this course, neither one aim\ +nor the other could be attained, yet it seemed best to the adherents of\ +this third party.\ +\ +Of a fourth opinion the most conspicuous representative was the\ +Tsarevich, who could not forget his disillusionment at Austerlitz, where\ +he had ridden out at the head of the Guards, in his casque and cavalry\ +uniform as to a review, expecting to crush the French gallantly; but\ +unexpectedly finding himself in the front line had narrowly escaped amid\ +the general confusion. The men of this party had both the quality and\ +the defect of frankness in their opinions. They feared Napoleon,\ +recognized his strength and their own weakness, and frankly said so.\ +They said: "Nothing but sorrow, shame, and ruin will come of all this!\ +We have abandoned Vilna and Vitebsk and shall abandon Drissa. The only\ +reasonable thing left to do is to conclude peace as soon as possible,\ +before we are turned out of Petersburg."\ +\ +This view was very general in the upper army circles and found support\ +also in Petersburg and from the chancellor, Rumyantsev, who, for other\ +reasons of state, was in favor of peace.\ +\ +The fifth party consisted of those who were adherents of Barclay de\ +Tolly, not so much as a man but as minister of war and commander-in-\ +chief. "Be he what he may" (they always began like that), "he is an\ +honest, practical man and we have nobody better. Give him real power,\ +for war cannot be conducted successfully without unity of command, and\ +he will show what he can do, as he did in Finland. If our army is well\ +organized and strong and has withdrawn to Drissa without suffering any\ +defeats, we owe this entirely to Barclay. If Barclay is now to be\ +superseded by Bennigsen all will be lost, for Bennigsen showed his\ +incapacity already in 1807."\ +\ +The sixth party, the Bennigsenites, said, on the contrary, that at any\ +rate there was no one more active and experienced than Bennigsen: "and\ +twist about as you may, you will have to come to Bennigsen eventually.\ +Let the others make mistakes now!" said they, arguing that our\ +retirement to Drissa was a most shameful reverse and an unbroken series\ +of blunders. "The more mistakes that are made the better. It will at any\ +rate be understood all the sooner that things cannot go on like this.\ +What is wanted is not some Barclay or other, but a man like Bennigsen,\ +who made his mark in 1807, and to whom Napoleon himself did justice--a\ +man whose authority would be willingly recognized, and Bennigsen is the\ +only such man."\ +\ +The seventh party consisted of the sort of people who are always to be\ +found, especially around young sovereigns, and of whom there were\ +particularly many round Alexander--generals and imperial aides-de-camp\ +passionately devoted to the Emperor, not merely as a monarch but as a\ +man, adoring him sincerely and disinterestedly, as Rostov had done in\ +1805, and who saw in him not only all the virtues but all human\ +capabilities as well. These men, though enchanted with the sovereign for\ +refusing the command of the army, yet blamed him for such excessive\ +modesty, and only desired and insisted that their adored sovereign\ +should abandon his diffidence and openly announce that he would place\ +himself at the head of the army, gather round him a commander-in-chief's\ +staff, and, consulting experienced theoreticians and practical men where\ +necessary, would himself lead the troops, whose spirits would thereby be\ +raised to the highest pitch.\ +\ +The eighth and largest group, which in its enormous numbers was to the\ +others as ninety-nine to one, consisted of men who desired neither peace\ +nor war, neither an advance nor a defensive camp at the Drissa or\ +anywhere else, neither Barclay nor the Emperor, neither Pfuel nor\ +Bennigsen, but only the one most essential thing--as much advantage and\ +pleasure for themselves as possible. In the troubled waters of\ +conflicting and intersecting intrigues that eddied about the Emperor's\ +headquarters, it was possible to succeed in many ways unthinkable at\ +other times. A man who simply wished to retain his lucrative post would\ +today agree with Pfuel, tomorrow with his opponent, and the day after,\ +merely to avoid responsibility or to please the Emperor, would declare\ +that he had no opinion at all on the matter. Another who wished to gain\ +some advantage would attract the Emperor's attention by loudly\ +advocating the very thing the Emperor had hinted at the day before, and\ +would dispute and shout at the council, beating his breast and\ +challenging those who did not agree with him to duels, thereby proving\ +that he was prepared to sacrifice himself for the common good. A third,\ +in the absence of opponents, between two councils would simply solicit a\ +special gratuity for his faithful services, well knowing that at that\ +moment people would be too busy to refuse him. A fourth while seemingly\ +overwhelmed with work would often come accidentally under the Emperor's\ +eye. A fifth, to achieve his long-cherished aim of dining with the\ +Emperor, would stubbornly insist on the correctness or falsity of some\ +newly emerging opinion and for this object would produce arguments more\ +or less forcible and correct.\ +\ +All the men of this party were fishing for rubles, decorations, and\ +promotions, and in this pursuit watched only the weathercock of imperial\ +favor, and directly they noticed it turning in any direction, this whole\ +drone population of the army began blowing hard that way, so that it was\ +all the harder for the Emperor to turn it elsewhere. Amid the\ +uncertainties of the position, with the menace of serious danger giving\ +a peculiarly threatening character to everything, amid this vortex of\ +intrigue, egotism, conflict of views and feelings, and the diversity of\ +race among these people--this eighth and largest party of those\ +preoccupied with personal interests imparted great confusion and\ +obscurity to the common task. Whatever question arose, a swarm of these\ +drones, without having finished their buzzing on a previous theme, flew\ +over to the new one and by their hum drowned and obscured the voices of\ +those who were disputing honestly.\ +\ +From among all these parties, just at the time Prince Andrew reached the\ +army, another, a ninth party, was being formed and was beginning to\ +raise its voice. This was the party of the elders, reasonable men\ +experienced and capable in state affairs, who, without sharing any of\ +those conflicting opinions, were able to take a detached view of what\ +was going on at the staff at headquarters and to consider means of\ +escape from this muddle, indecision, intricacy, and weakness.\ +\ +The men of this party said and thought that what was wrong resulted\ +chiefly from the Emperor's presence in the army with his military court\ +and from the consequent presence there of an indefinite, conditional,\ +and unsteady fluctuation of relations, which is in place at court but\ +harmful in an army; that a sovereign should reign but not command the\ +army, and that the only way out of the position would be for the Emperor\ +and his court to leave the army; that the mere presence of the Emperor\ +paralyzed the action of fifty thousand men required to secure his\ +personal safety, and that the worst commander-in-chief, if independent,\ +would be better than the very best one trammeled by the presence and\ +authority of the monarch.\ +\ +Just at the time Prince Andrew was living unoccupied at Drissa,\ +Shishkov, the Secretary of State and one of the chief representatives of\ +this party, wrote a letter to the Emperor which Arakcheev and Balashev\ +agreed to sign. In this letter, availing himself of permission given him\ +by the Emperor to discuss the general course of affairs, he respectfully\ +suggested--on the plea that it was necessary for the sovereign to arouse\ +a warlike spirit in the people of the capital--that the Emperor should\ +leave the army.\ +\ +That arousing of the people by their sovereign and his call to them to\ +defend their country--the very incitement which was the chief cause of\ +Russia's triumph in so far as it was produced by the Tsar's personal\ +presence in Moscow--was suggested to the Emperor, and accepted by him,\ +as a pretext for quitting the army.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER X\ +\ +This letter had not yet been presented to the Emperor when Barclay, one\ +day at dinner, informed Bolkonski that the sovereign wished to see him\ +personally, to question him about Turkey, and that Prince Andrew was to\ +present himself at Bennigsen's quarters at six that evening.\ +\ +News was received at the Emperor's quarters that very day of a fresh\ +movement by Napoleon which might endanger the army--news subsequently\ +found to be false. And that morning Colonel Michaud had ridden round the\ +Drissa fortifications with the Emperor and had pointed out to him that\ +this fortified camp constructed by Pfuel, and till then considered a\ +chef-d'oeuvre of tactical science which would ensure Napoleon's\ +destruction, was an absurdity, threatening the destruction of the\ +Russian army.\ +\ +Prince Andrew arrived at Bennigsen's quarters--a country gentleman's\ +house of moderate size, situated on the very banks of the river. Neither\ +Bennigsen nor the Emperor was there, but Chernyshev, the Emperor's aide-\ +de-camp, received Bolkonski and informed him that the Emperor,\ +accompanied by General Bennigsen and Marquis Paulucci, had gone a second\ +time that day to inspect the fortifications of the Drissa camp, of the\ +suitability of which serious doubts were beginning to be felt.\ +\ +Chernyshev was sitting at a window in the first room with a French novel\ +in his hand. This room had probably been a music room; there was still\ +an organ in it on which some rugs were piled, and in one corner stood\ +the folding bedstead of Bennigsen's adjutant. This adjutant was also\ +there and sat dozing on the rolled-up bedding, evidently exhausted by\ +work or by feasting. Two doors led from the room, one straight on into\ +what had been the drawing room, and another, on the right, to the study.\ +Through the first door came the sound of voices conversing in German and\ +occasionally in French. In that drawing room were gathered, by the\ +Emperor's wish, not a military council (the Emperor preferred\ +indefiniteness), but certain persons whose opinions he wished to know in\ +view of the impending difficulties. It was not a council of war, but, as\ +it were, a council to elucidate certain questions for the Emperor\ +personally. To this semicouncil had been invited the Swedish General\ +Armfeldt, Adjutant General Wolzogen, Wintzingerode (whom Napoleon had\ +referred to as a renegade French subject), Michaud, Toll, Count Stein\ +who was not a military man at all, and Pfuel himself, who, as Prince\ +Andrew had heard, was the mainspring of the whole affair. Prince Andrew\ +had an opportunity of getting a good look at him, for Pfuel arrived soon\ +after himself and, in passing through to the drawing room, stopped a\ +minute to speak to Chernyshev.\ +\ +At first sight, Pfuel, in his ill-made uniform of a Russian general,\ +which fitted him badly like a fancy costume, seemed familiar to Prince\ +Andrew, though he saw him now for the first time. There was about him\ +something of Weyrother, Mack, and Schmidt, and many other German\ +theorist-generals whom Prince Andrew had seen in 1805, but he was more\ +typical than any of them. Prince Andrew had never yet seen a German\ +theorist in whom all the characteristics of those others were united to\ +such an extent.\ +\ +Pfuel was short and very thin but broad-boned, of coarse, robust build,\ +broad in the hips, and with prominent shoulder blades. His face was much\ +wrinkled and his eyes deep set. His hair had evidently been hastily\ +brushed smooth in front of the temples, but stuck up behind in quaint\ +little tufts. He entered the room, looking restlessly and angrily\ +around, as if afraid of everything in that large apartment. Awkwardly\ +holding up his sword, he addressed Chernyshev and asked in German where\ +the Emperor was. One could see that he wished to pass through the rooms\ +as quickly as possible, finish with the bows and greetings, and sit down\ +to business in front of a map, where he would feel at home. He nodded\ +hurriedly in reply to Chernyshev, and smiled ironically on hearing that\ +the sovereign was inspecting the fortifications that he, Pfuel, had\ +planned in accord with his theory. He muttered something to himself\ +abruptly and in a bass voice, as self-assured Germans do--it might have\ +been "stupid fellow"... or "the whole affair will be ruined," or\ +"something absurd will come of it."... Prince Andrew did not catch what\ +he said and would have passed on, but Chernyshev introduced him to\ +Pfuel, remarking that Prince Andrew was just back from Turkey where the\ +war had terminated so fortunately. Pfuel barely glanced--not so much at\ +Prince Andrew as past him--and said, with a laugh: "That must have been\ +a fine tactical war"; and, laughing contemptuously, went on into the\ +room from which the sound of voices was heard.\ +\ +Pfuel, always inclined to be irritably sarcastic, was particularly\ +disturbed that day, evidently by the fact that they had dared to inspect\ +and criticize his camp in his absence. From this short interview with\ +Pfuel, Prince Andrew, thanks to his Austerlitz experiences, was able to\ +form a clear conception of the man. Pfuel was one of those hopelessly\ +and immutably self-confident men, self-confident to the point of\ +martyrdom as only Germans are, because only Germans are self-confident\ +on the basis of an abstract notion--science, that is, the supposed\ +knowledge of absolute truth. A Frenchman is self-assured because he\ +regards himself personally, both in mind and body, as irresistibly\ +attractive to men and women. An Englishman is self-assured, as being a\ +citizen of the best-organized state in the world, and therefore as an\ +Englishman always knows what he should do and knows that all he does as\ +an Englishman is undoubtedly correct. An Italian is self-assured because\ +he is excitable and easily forgets himself and other people. A Russian\ +is self-assured just because he knows nothing and does not want to know\ +anything, since he does not believe that anything can be known. The\ +German's self-assurance is worst of all, stronger and more repulsive\ +than any other, because he imagines that he knows the truth--science--\ +which he himself has invented but which is for him the absolute truth.\ +\ +Pfuel was evidently of that sort. He had a science--the theory of\ +oblique movements deduced by him from the history of Frederick the\ +Great's wars, and all he came across in the history of more recent\ +warfare seemed to him absurd and barbarous--monstrous collisions in\ +which so many blunders were committed by both sides that these wars\ +could not be called wars, they did not accord with the theory, and\ +therefore could not serve as material for science.\ +\ +In 1806 Pfuel had been one of those responsible, for the plan of\ +campaign that ended in Jena and Auerstadt, but he did not see the least\ +proof of the fallibility of his theory in the disasters of that war. On\ +the contrary, the deviations made from his theory were, in his opinion,\ +the sole cause of the whole disaster, and with characteristically\ +gleeful sarcasm he would remark, "There, I said the whole affair would\ +go to the devil!" Pfuel was one of those theoreticians who so love their\ +theory that they lose sight of the theory's object--its practical\ +application. His love of theory made him hate everything practical, and\ +he would not listen to it. He was even pleased by failures, for failures\ +resulting from deviations in practice from the theory only proved to him\ +the accuracy of his theory.\ +\ +He said a few words to Prince Andrew and Chernyshev about the present\ +war, with the air of a man who knows beforehand that all will go wrong,\ +and who is not displeased that it should be so. The unbrushed tufts of\ +hair sticking up behind and the hastily brushed hair on his temples\ +expressed this most eloquently.\ +\ +He passed into the next room, and the deep, querulous sounds of his\ +voice were at once heard from there.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XI\ +\ +Prince Andrew's eyes were still following Pfuel out of the room when\ +Count Bennigsen entered hurriedly, and nodding to Bolkonski, but not\ +pausing, went into the study, giving instructions to his adjutant as he\ +went. The Emperor was following him, and Bennigsen had hastened on to\ +make some preparations and to be ready to receive the sovereign.\ +Chernyshev and Prince Andrew went out into the porch, where the Emperor,\ +who looked fatigued, was dismounting. Marquis Paulucci was talking to\ +him with particular warmth and the Emperor, with his head bent to the\ +left, was listening with a dissatisfied air. The Emperor moved forward\ +evidently wishing to end the conversation, but the flushed and excited\ +Italian, oblivious of decorum, followed him and continued to speak.\ +\ +"And as for the man who advised forming this camp--the Drissa camp,"\ +said Paulucci, as the Emperor mounted the steps and noticing Prince\ +Andrew scanned his unfamiliar face, "as to that person, sire..."\ +continued Paulucci, desperately, apparently unable to restrain himself,\ +"the man who advised the Drissa camp--I see no alternative but the\ +lunatic asylum or the gallows!"\ +\ +Without heeding the end of the Italian's remarks, and as though not\ +hearing them, the Emperor, recognizing Bolkonski, addressed him\ +graciously.\ +\ +"I am very glad to see you! Go in there where they are meeting, and wait\ +for me."\ +\ +The Emperor went into the study. He was followed by Prince Peter\ +Mikhaylovich Volkonski and Baron Stein, and the door closed behind them.\ +Prince Andrew, taking advantage of the Emperor's permission, accompanied\ +Paulucci, whom he had known in Turkey, into the drawing room where the\ +council was assembled.\ +\ +Prince Peter Mikhaylovich Volkonski occupied the position, as it were,\ +of chief of the Emperor's staff. He came out of the study into the\ +drawing room with some maps which he spread on a table, and put\ +questions on which he wished to hear the opinion of the gentlemen\ +present. What had happened was that news (which afterwards proved to be\ +false) had been received during the night of a movement by the French to\ +outflank the Drissa camp.\ +\ +The first to speak was General Armfeldt who, to meet the difficulty that\ +presented itself, unexpectedly proposed a perfectly new position away\ +from the Petersburg and Moscow roads. The reason for this was\ +inexplicable (unless he wished to show that he, too, could have an\ +opinion), but he urged that at this point the army should unite and\ +there await the enemy. It was plain that Armfeldt had thought out that\ +plan long ago and now expounded it not so much to answer the questions\ +put--which, in fact, his plan did not answer--as to avail himself of the\ +opportunity to air it. It was one of the millions of proposals, one as\ +good as another, that could be made as long as it was quite unknown what\ +character the war would take. Some disputed his arguments, others\ +defended them. Young Count Toll objected to the Swedish general's views\ +more warmly than anyone else, and in the course of the dispute drew from\ +his side pocket a well-filled notebook, which he asked permission to\ +read to them. In these voluminous notes Toll suggested another scheme,\ +totally different from Armfeldt's or Pfuel's plan of campaign. In answer\ +to Toll, Paulucci suggested an advance and an attack, which, he urged,\ +could alone extricate us from the present uncertainty and from the trap\ +(as he called the Drissa camp) in which we were situated.\ +\ +During all these discussions Pfuel and his interpreter, Wolzogen (his\ +"bridge" in court relations), were silent. Pfuel only snorted\ +contemptuously and turned away, to show that he would never demean\ +himself by replying to such nonsense as he was now hearing. So when\ +Prince Volkonski, who was in the chair, called on him to give his\ +opinion, he merely said:\ +\ +"Why ask me? General Armfeldt has proposed a splendid position with an\ +exposed rear, or why not this Italian gentleman's attack--very fine, or\ +a retreat, also good! Why ask me?" said he. "Why, you yourselves know\ +everything better than I do."\ +\ +But when Volkonski said, with a frown, that it was in the Emperor's name\ +that he asked his opinion, Pfuel rose and, suddenly growing animated,\ +began to speak:\ +\ +"Everything has been spoiled, everything muddled, everybody thought they\ +knew better than I did, and now you come to me! How mend matters? There\ +is nothing to mend! The principles laid down by me must be strictly\ +adhered to," said he, drumming on the table with his bony fingers. "What\ +is the difficulty? Nonsense, childishness!"\ +\ +He went up to the map and speaking rapidly began proving that no\ +eventuality could alter the efficiency of the Drissa camp, that\ +everything had been foreseen, and that if the enemy were really going to\ +outflank it, the enemy would inevitably be destroyed.\ +\ +Paulucci, who did not know German, began questioning him in French.\ +Wolzogen came to the assistance of his chief, who spoke French badly,\ +and began translating for him, hardly able to keep pace with Pfuel, who\ +was rapidly demonstrating that not only all that had happened, but all\ +that could happen, had been foreseen in his scheme, and that if there\ +were now any difficulties the whole fault lay in the fact that his plan\ +had not been precisely executed. He kept laughing sarcastically, he\ +demonstrated, and at last contemptuously ceased to demonstrate, like a\ +mathematician who ceases to prove in various ways the accuracy of a\ +problem that has already been proved. Wolzogen took his place and\ +continued to explain his views in French, every now and then turning to\ +Pfuel and saying, "Is it not so, your excellency?" But Pfuel, like a man\ +heated in a fight who strikes those on his own side, shouted angrily at\ +his own supporter, Wolzogen:\ +\ +"Well, of course, what more is there to explain?"\ +\ +Paulucci and Michaud both attacked Wolzogen simultaneously in French.\ +Armfeldt addressed Pfuel in German. Toll explained to Volkonski in\ +Russian. Prince Andrew listened and observed in silence.\ +\ +Of all these men Prince Andrew sympathized most with Pfuel, angry,\ +determined, and absurdly self-confident as he was. Of all those present,\ +evidently he alone was not seeking anything for himself, nursed no\ +hatred against anyone, and only desired that the plan, formed on a\ +theory arrived at by years of toil, should be carried out. He was\ +ridiculous, and unpleasantly sarcastic, but yet he inspired involuntary\ +respect by his boundless devotion to an idea. Besides this, the remarks\ +of all except Pfuel had one common trait that had not been noticeable at\ +the council of war in 1805: there was now a panic fear of Napoleon's\ +genius, which, though concealed, was noticeable in every rejoinder.\ +Everything was assumed to be possible for Napoleon, they expected him\ +from every side, and invoked his terrible name to shatter each other's\ +proposals. Pfuel alone seemed to consider Napoleon a barbarian like\ +everyone else who opposed his theory. But besides this feeling of\ +respect, Pfuel evoked pity in Prince Andrew. From the tone in which the\ +courtiers addressed him and the way Paulucci had allowed himself to\ +speak of him to the Emperor, but above all from a certain desperation in\ +Pfuel's own expressions, it was clear that the others knew, and Pfuel\ +himself felt, that his fall was at hand. And despite his self-confidence\ +and grumpy German sarcasm he was pitiable, with his hair smoothly\ +brushed on the temples and sticking up in tufts behind. Though he\ +concealed the fact under a show of irritation and contempt, he was\ +evidently in despair that the sole remaining chance of verifying his\ +theory by a huge experiment and proving its soundness to the whole world\ +was slipping away from him.\ +\ +The discussions continued a long time, and the longer they lasted the\ +more heated became the disputes, culminating in shouts and\ +personalities, and the less was it possible to arrive at any general\ +conclusion from all that had been said. Prince Andrew, listening to this\ +polyglot talk and to these surmises, plans, refutations, and shouts,\ +felt nothing but amazement at what they were saying. A thought that had\ +long since and often occurred to him during his military activities--the\ +idea that there is not and cannot be any science of war, and that\ +therefore there can be no such thing as a military genius--now appeared\ +to him an obvious truth. "What theory and science is possible about a\ +matter the conditions and circumstances of which are unknown and cannot\ +be defined, especially when the strength of the acting forces cannot be\ +ascertained? No one was or is able to foresee in what condition our or\ +the enemy's armies will be in a day's time, and no one can gauge the\ +force of this or that detachment. Sometimes--when there is not a coward\ +at the front to shout, 'We are cut off!' and start running, but a brave\ +and jolly lad who shouts, 'Hurrah!'--a detachment of five thousand is\ +worth thirty thousand, as at Schon Grabern, while at times fifty\ +thousand run from eight thousand, as at Austerlitz. What science can\ +there be in a matter in which, as in all practical matters, nothing can\ +be defined and everything depends on innumerable conditions, the\ +significance of which is determined at a particular moment which arrives\ +no one knows when? Armfeldt says our army is cut in half, and Paulucci\ +says we have got the French army between two fires; Michaud says that\ +the worthlessness of the Drissa camp lies in having the river behind it,\ +and Pfuel says that is what constitutes its strength; Toll proposes one\ +plan, Armfeldt another, and they are all good and all bad, and the\ +advantages of any suggestions can be seen only at the moment of trial.\ +And why do they all speak of a 'military genius'? Is a man a genius who\ +can order bread to be brought up at the right time and say who is to go\ +to the right and who to the left? It is only because military men are\ +invested with pomp and power and crowds of sychophants flatter power,\ +attributing to it qualities of genius it does not possess. The best\ +generals I have known were, on the contrary, stupid or absent-minded\ +men. Bagration was the best, Napoleon himself admitted that. And of\ +Bonaparte himself! I remember his limited, self-satisfied face on the\ +field of Austerlitz. Not only does a good army commander not need any\ +special qualities, on the contrary he needs the absence of the highest\ +and best human attributes--love, poetry, tenderness, and philosophic\ +inquiring doubt. He should be limited, firmly convinced that what he is\ +doing is very important (otherwise he will not have sufficient\ +patience), and only then will he be a brave leader. God forbid that he\ +should be humane, should love, or pity, or think of what is just and\ +unjust. It is understandable that a theory of their 'genius' was\ +invented for them long ago because they have power! The success of a\ +military action depends not on them, but on the man in the ranks who\ +shouts, 'We are lost!' or who shouts, 'Hurrah!' And only in the ranks\ +can one serve with assurance of being useful."\ +\ +So thought Prince Andrew as he listened to the talking, and he roused\ +himself only when Paulucci called him and everyone was leaving.\ +\ +At the review next day the Emperor asked Prince Andrew where he would\ +like to serve, and Prince Andrew lost his standing in court circles\ +forever by not asking to remain attached to the sovereign's person, but\ +for permission to serve in the army.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XII\ +\ +Before the beginning of the campaign, Rostov had received a letter from\ +his parents in which they told him briefly of Natasha's illness and the\ +breaking off of her engagement to Prince Andrew (which they explained by\ +Natasha's having rejected him) and again asked Nicholas to retire from\ +the army and return home. On receiving this letter, Nicholas did not\ +even make any attempt to get leave of absence or to retire from the\ +army, but wrote to his parents that he was sorry Natasha was ill and her\ +engagement broken off, and that he would do all he could to meet their\ +wishes. To Sonya he wrote separately.\ +\ +"Adored friend of my soul!" he wrote. "Nothing but honor could keep me\ +from returning to the country. But now, at the commencement of the\ +campaign, I should feel dishonored, not only in my comrades' eyes but in\ +my own, if I preferred my own happiness to my love and duty to the\ +Fatherland. But this shall be our last separation. Believe me, directly\ +the war is over, if I am still alive and still loved by you, I will\ +throw up everything and fly to you, to press you forever to my ardent\ +breast."\ +\ +It was, in fact, only the commencement of the campaign that prevented\ +Rostov from returning home as he had promised and marrying Sonya. The\ +autumn in Otradnoe with the hunting, and the winter with the Christmas\ +holidays and Sonya's love, had opened out to him a vista of tranquil\ +rural joys and peace such as he had never known before, and which now\ +allured him. "A splendid wife, children, a good pack of hounds, a dozen\ +leashes of smart borzois, agriculture, neighbors, service by\ +election..." thought he. But now the campaign was beginning, and he had\ +to remain with his regiment. And since it had to be so, Nicholas Rostov,\ +as was natural to him, felt contented with the life he led in the\ +regiment and was able to find pleasure in that life.\ +\ +On his return from his furlough Nicholas, having been joyfully welcomed\ +by his comrades, was sent to obtain remounts and brought back from the\ +Ukraine excellent horses which pleased him and earned him commendation\ +from his commanders. During his absence he had been promoted captain,\ +and when the regiment was put on war footing with an increase in\ +numbers, he was again allotted his old squadron.\ +\ +The campaign began, the regiment was moved into Poland on double pay,\ +new officers arrived, new men and horses, and above all everybody was\ +infected with the merrily excited mood that goes with the commencement\ +of a war, and Rostov, conscious of his advantageous position in the\ +regiment, devoted himself entirely to the pleasures and interests of\ +military service, though he knew that sooner or later he would have to\ +relinquish them.\ +\ +The troops retired from Vilna for various complicated reasons of state,\ +political and strategic. Each step of the retreat was accompanied by a\ +complicated interplay of interests, arguments, and passions at\ +headquarters. For the Pavlograd hussars, however, the whole of this\ +retreat during the finest period of summer and with sufficient supplies\ +was a very simple and agreeable business.\ +\ +It was only at headquarters that there was depression, uneasiness, and\ +intriguing; in the body of the army they did not ask themselves where\ +they were going or why. If they regretted having to retreat, it was only\ +because they had to leave billets they had grown accustomed to, or some\ +pretty young Polish lady. If the thought that things looked bad chanced\ +to enter anyone's head, he tried to be as cheerful as befits a good\ +soldier and not to think of the general trend of affairs, but only of\ +the task nearest to hand. First they camped gaily before Vilna, making\ +acquaintance with the Polish landowners, preparing for reviews and being\ +reviewed by the Emperor and other high commanders. Then came an order to\ +retreat to Sventsyani and destroy any provisions they could not carry\ +away with them. Sventsyani was remembered by the hussars only as the\ +drunken camp, a name the whole army gave to their encampment there, and\ +because many complaints were made against the troops, who, taking\ +advantage of the order to collect provisions, took also horses,\ +carriages, and carpets from the Polish proprietors. Rostov remembered\ +Sventsyani, because on the first day of their arrival at that small town\ +he changed his sergeant major and was unable to manage all the drunken\ +men of his squadron who, unknown to him, had appropriated five barrels\ +of old beer. From Sventsyani they retired farther and farther to Drissa,\ +and thence again beyond Drissa, drawing near to the frontier of Russia\ +proper.\ +\ +On the thirteenth of July the Pavlograds took part in a serious action\ +for the first time.\ +\ +On the twelfth of July, on the eve of that action, there was a heavy\ +storm of rain and hail. In general, the summer of 1812 was remarkable\ +for its storms.\ +\ +The two Pavlograd squadrons were bivouacking on a field of rye, which\ +was already in ear but had been completely trodden down by cattle and\ +horses. The rain was descending in torrents, and Rostov, with a young\ +officer named Ilyin, his protege, was sitting in a hastily constructed\ +shelter. An officer of their regiment, with long mustaches extending\ +onto his cheeks, who after riding to the staff had been overtaken by the\ +rain, entered Rostov's shelter.\ +\ +"I have come from the staff, Count. Have you heard of Raevski's\ +exploit?"\ +\ +And the officer gave them details of the Saltanov battle, which he had\ +heard at the staff.\ +\ +Rostov, smoking his pipe and turning his head about as the water\ +trickled down his neck, listened inattentively, with an occasional\ +glance at Ilyin, who was pressing close to him. This officer, a lad of\ +sixteen who had recently joined the regiment, was now in the same\ +relation to Nicholas that Nicholas had been to Denisov seven years\ +before. Ilyin tried to imitate Rostov in everything and adored him as a\ +girl might have done.\ +\ +Zdrzhinski, the officer with the long mustache, spoke grandiloquently of\ +the Saltanov dam being "a Russian Thermopylae," and of how a deed worthy\ +of antiquity had been performed by General Raevski. He recounted how\ +Raevski had led his two sons onto the dam under terrific fire and had\ +charged with them beside him. Rostov heard the story and not only said\ +nothing to encourage Zdrzhinski's enthusiasm but, on the contrary,\ +looked like a man ashamed of what he was hearing, though with no\ +intention of contradicting it. Since the campaigns of Austerlitz and of\ +1807 Rostov knew by experience that men always lie when describing\ +military exploits, as he himself had done when recounting them; besides\ +that, he had experience enough to know that nothing happens in war at\ +all as we can imagine or relate it. And so he did not like Zdrzhinski's\ +tale, nor did he like Zdrzhinski himself who, with his mustaches\ +extending over his cheeks, bent low over the face of his hearer, as was\ +his habit, and crowded Rostov in the narrow shanty. Rostov looked at him\ +in silence. "In the first place, there must have been such a confusion\ +and crowding on the dam that was being attacked that if Raevski did lead\ +his sons there, it could have had no effect except perhaps on some dozen\ +men nearest to him," thought he, "the rest could not have seen how or\ +with whom Raevski came onto the dam. And even those who did see it would\ +not have been much stimulated by it, for what had they to do with\ +Raevski's tender paternal feelings when their own skins were in danger?\ +And besides, the fate of the Fatherland did not depend on whether they\ +took the Saltanov dam or not, as we are told was the case at\ +Thermopylae. So why should he have made such a sacrifice? And why expose\ +his own children in the battle? I would not have taken my brother Petya\ +there, or even Ilyin, who's a stranger to me but a nice lad, but would\ +have tried to put them somewhere under cover," Nicholas continued to\ +think, as he listened to Zdrzhinski. But he did not express his\ +thoughts, for in such matters, too, he had gained experience. He knew\ +that this tale redounded to the glory of our arms and so one had to\ +pretend not to doubt it. And he acted accordingly.\ +\ +"I can't stand this any more," said Ilyin, noticing that Rostov did not\ +relish Zdrzhinski's conversation. "My stockings and shirt... and the\ +water is running on my seat! I'll go and look for shelter. The rain\ +seems less heavy."\ +\ +Ilyin went out and Zdrzhinski rode away.\ +\ +Five minutes later Ilyin, splashing through the mud, came running back\ +to the shanty.\ +\ +"Hurrah! Rostov, come quick! I've found it! About two hundred yards away\ +there's a tavern where ours have already gathered. We can at least get\ +dry there, and Mary Hendrikhovna's there."\ +\ +Mary Hendrikhovna was the wife of the regimental doctor, a pretty young\ +German woman he had married in Poland. The doctor, whether from lack of\ +means or because he did not like to part from his young wife in the\ +early days of their marriage, took her about with him wherever the\ +hussar regiment went and his jealousy had become a standing joke among\ +the hussar officers.\ +\ +Rostov threw his cloak over his shoulders, shouted to Lavrushka to\ +follow with the things, and--now slipping in the mud, now splashing\ +right through it--set off with Ilyin in the lessening rain and the\ +darkness that was occasionally rent by distant lightning.\ +\ +"Rostov, where are you?"\ +\ +"Here. What lightning!" they called to one another.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XIII\ +\ +In the tavern, before which stood the doctor's covered cart, there were\ +already some five officers. Mary Hendrikhovna, a plump little blonde\ +German, in a dressing jacket and nightcap, was sitting on a broad bench\ +in the front corner. Her husband, the doctor, lay asleep behind her.\ +Rostov and Ilyin, on entering the room, were welcomed with merry shouts\ +and laughter.\ +\ +"Dear me, how jolly we are!" said Rostov laughing.\ +\ +"And why do you stand there gaping?"\ +\ +"What swells they are! Why, the water streams from them! Don't make our\ +drawing room so wet."\ +\ +"Don't mess Mary Hendrikhovna's dress!" cried other voices.\ +\ +Rostov and Ilyin hastened to find a corner where they could change into\ +dry clothes without offending Mary Hendrikhovna's modesty. They were\ +going into a tiny recess behind a partition to change, but found it\ +completely filled by three officers who sat playing cards by the light\ +of a solitary candle on an empty box, and these officers would on no\ +account yield their position. Mary Hendrikhovna obliged them with the\ +loan of a petticoat to be used as a curtain, and behind that screen\ +Rostov and Ilyin, helped by Lavrushka who had brought their kits,\ +changed their wet things for dry ones.\ +\ +A fire was made up in the dilapidated brick stove. A board was found,\ +fixed on two saddles and covered with a horsecloth, a small samovar was\ +produced and a cellaret and half a bottle of rum, and having asked Mary\ +Hendrikhovna to preside, they all crowded round her. One offered her a\ +clean handkerchief to wipe her charming hands, another spread a jacket\ +under her little feet to keep them from the damp, another hung his coat\ +over the window to keep out the draft, and yet another waved the flies\ +off her husband's face, lest he should wake up.\ +\ +"Leave him alone," said Mary Hendrikhovna, smiling timidly and happily.\ +"He is sleeping well as it is, after a sleepless night."\ +\ +"Oh, no, Mary Hendrikhovna," replied the officer, "one must look after\ +the doctor. Perhaps he'll take pity on me someday, when it comes to\ +cutting off a leg or an arm for me."\ +\ +There were only three tumblers, the water was so muddy that one could\ +not make out whether the tea was strong or weak, and the samovar held\ +only six tumblers of water, but this made it all the pleasanter to take\ +turns in order of seniority to receive one's tumbler from Mary\ +Hendrikhovna's plump little hands with their short and not overclean\ +nails. All the officers appeared to be, and really were, in love with\ +her that evening. Even those playing cards behind the partition soon\ +left their game and came over to the samovar, yielding to the general\ +mood of courting Mary Hendrikhovna. She, seeing herself surrounded by\ +such brilliant and polite young men, beamed with satisfaction, try as\ +she might to hide it, and perturbed as she evidently was each time her\ +husband moved in his sleep behind her.\ +\ +There was only one spoon, sugar was more plentiful than anything else,\ +but it took too long to dissolve, so it was decided that Mary\ +Hendrikhovna should stir the sugar for everyone in turn. Rostov received\ +his tumbler, and adding some rum to it asked Mary Hendrikhovna to stir\ +it.\ +\ +"But you take it without sugar?" she said, smiling all the time, as if\ +everything she said and everything the others said was very amusing and\ +had a double meaning.\ +\ +"It is not the sugar I want, but only that your little hand should stir\ +my tea."\ +\ +Mary Hendrikhovna assented and began looking for the spoon which someone\ +meanwhile had pounced on.\ +\ +"Use your finger, Mary Hendrikhovna, it will be still nicer," said\ +Rostov.\ +\ +"Too hot!" she replied, blushing with pleasure.\ +\ +Ilyin put a few drops of rum into the bucket of water and brought it to\ +Mary Hendrikhovna, asking her to stir it with her finger.\ +\ +"This is my cup," said he. "Only dip your finger in it and I'll drink it\ +all up."\ +\ +When they had emptied the samovar, Rostov took a pack of cards and\ +proposed that they should play "Kings" with Mary Hendrikhovna. They drew\ +lots to settle who should make up her set. At Rostov's suggestion it was\ +agreed that whoever became "King" should have the right to kiss Mary\ +Hendrikhovna's hand, and that the "Booby" should go to refill and reheat\ +the samovar for the doctor when the latter awoke.\ +\ +"Well, but supposing Mary Hendrikhovna is 'King'?" asked Ilyin.\ +\ +"As it is, she is Queen, and her word is law!"\ +\ +They had hardly begun to play before the doctor's disheveled head\ +suddenly appeared from behind Mary Hendrikhovna. He had been awake for\ +some time, listening to what was being said, and evidently found nothing\ +entertaining or amusing in what was going on. His face was sad and\ +depressed. Without greeting the officers, he scratched himself and asked\ +to be allowed to pass as they were blocking the way. As soon as he had\ +left the room all the officers burst into loud laughter and Mary\ +Hendrikhovna blushed till her eyes filled with tears and thereby became\ +still more attractive to them. Returning from the yard, the doctor told\ +his wife (who had ceased to smile so happily, and looked at him in\ +alarm, awaiting her sentence) that the rain had ceased and they must go\ +to sleep in their covered cart, or everything in it would be stolen.\ +\ +"But I'll send an orderly.... Two of them!" said Rostov. "What an idea,\ +doctor!"\ +\ +"I'll stand guard on it myself!" said Ilyin.\ +\ +"No, gentlemen, you have had your sleep, but I have not slept for two\ +nights," replied the doctor, and he sat down morosely beside his wife,\ +waiting for the game to end.\ +\ +Seeing his gloomy face as he frowned at his wife, the officers grew\ +still merrier, and some of them could not refrain from laughter, for\ +which they hurriedly sought plausible pretexts. When he had gone, taking\ +his wife with him, and had settled down with her in their covered cart,\ +the officers lay down in the tavern, covering themselves with their wet\ +cloaks, but they did not sleep for a long time; now they exchanged\ +remarks, recalling the doctor's uneasiness and his wife's delight, now\ +they ran out into the porch and reported what was taking place in the\ +covered trap. Several times Rostov, covering his head, tried to go to\ +sleep, but some remark would arouse him and conversation would be\ +resumed, to the accompaniment of unreasoning, merry, childlike laughter.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XIV\ +\ +It was nearly three o'clock but no one was yet asleep, when the\ +quartermaster appeared with an order to move on to the little town of\ +Ostrovna. Still laughing and talking, the officers began hurriedly\ +getting ready and again boiled some muddy water in the samovar. But\ +Rostov went off to his squadron without waiting for tea. Day was\ +breaking, the rain had ceased, and the clouds were dispersing. It felt\ +damp and cold, especially in clothes that were still moist. As they left\ +the tavern in the twilight of the dawn, Rostov and Ilyin both glanced\ +under the wet and glistening leather hood of the doctor's cart, from\ +under the apron of which his feet were sticking out, and in the middle\ +of which his wife's nightcap was visible and her sleepy breathing\ +audible.\ +\ +"She really is a dear little thing," said Rostov to Ilyin, who was\ +following him.\ +\ +"A charming woman!" said Ilyin, with all the gravity of a boy of\ +sixteen.\ +\ +Half an hour later the squadron was lined up on the road. The command\ +was heard to "mount" and the soldiers crossed themselves and mounted.\ +Rostov riding in front gave the order "Forward!" and the hussars, with\ +clanking sabers and subdued talk, their horses' hoofs splashing in the\ +mud, defiled in fours and moved along the broad road planted with birch\ +trees on each side, following the infantry and a battery that had gone\ +on in front.\ +\ +Tattered, blue-purple clouds, reddening in the east, were scudding\ +before the wind. It was growing lighter and lighter. That curly grass\ +which always grows by country roadsides became clearly visible, still\ +wet with the night's rain; the drooping branches of the birches, also\ +wet, swayed in the wind and flung down bright drops of water to one\ +side. The soldiers' faces were more and more clearly visible. Rostov,\ +always closely followed by Ilyin, rode along the side of the road\ +between two rows of birch trees.\ +\ +When campaigning, Rostov allowed himself the indulgence of riding not a\ +regimental but a Cossack horse. A judge of horses and a sportsman, he\ +had lately procured himself a large, fine, mettlesome, Donets horse,\ +dun-colored, with light mane and tail, and when he rode it no one could\ +outgallop him. To ride this horse was a pleasure to him, and he thought\ +of the horse, of the morning, of the doctor's wife, but not once of the\ +impending danger.\ +\ +Formerly, when going into action, Rostov had felt afraid; now he had not\ +the least feeling of fear. He was fearless, not because he had grown\ +used to being under fire (one cannot grow used to danger), but because\ +he had learned how to manage his thoughts when in danger. He had grown\ +accustomed when going into action to think about anything but what would\ +seem most likely to interest him--the impending danger. During the first\ +period of his service, hard as he tried and much as he reproached\ +himself with cowardice, he had not been able to do this, but with time\ +it had come of itself. Now he rode beside Ilyin under the birch trees,\ +occasionally plucking leaves from a branch that met his hand, sometimes\ +touching his horse's side with his foot, or, without turning round,\ +handing a pipe he had finished to an hussar riding behind him, with as\ +calm and careless an air as though he were merely out for a ride. He\ +glanced with pity at the excited face of Ilyin, who talked much and in\ +great agitation. He knew from experience the tormenting expectation of\ +terror and death the cornet was suffering and knew that only time could\ +help him.\ +\ +As soon as the sun appeared in a clear strip of sky beneath the clouds,\ +the wind fell, as if it dared not spoil the beauty of the summer morning\ +after the storm; drops still continued to fall, but vertically now, and\ +all was still. The whole sun appeared on the horizon and disappeared\ +behind a long narrow cloud that hung above it. A few minutes later it\ +reappeared brighter still from behind the top of the cloud, tearing its\ +edge. Everything grew bright and glittered. And with that light, and as\ +if in reply to it, came the sound of guns ahead of them.\ +\ +Before Rostov had had time to consider and determine the distance of\ +that firing, Count Ostermann-Tolstoy's adjutant came galloping from\ +Vitebsk with orders to advance at a trot along the road.\ +\ +The squadron overtook and passed the infantry and the battery--which had\ +also quickened their pace--rode down a hill, and passing through an\ +empty and deserted village again ascended. The horses began to lather\ +and the men to flush.\ +\ +"Halt! Dress your ranks!" the order of the regimental commander was\ +heard ahead. "Forward by the left. Walk, march!" came the order from in\ +front.\ +\ +And the hussars, passing along the line of troops on the left flank of\ +our position, halted behind our uhlans who were in the front line. To\ +the right stood our infantry in a dense column: they were the reserve.\ +Higher up the hill, on the very horizon, our guns were visible through\ +the wonderfully clear air, brightly illuminated by slanting morning\ +sunbeams. In front, beyond a hollow dale, could be seen the enemy's\ +columns and guns. Our advanced line, already in action, could be heard\ +briskly exchanging shots with the enemy in the dale.\ +\ +At these sounds, long unheard, Rostov's spirits rose, as at the strains\ +of the merriest music. Trap-ta-ta-tap! cracked the shots, now together,\ +now several quickly one after another. Again all was silent and then\ +again it sounded as if someone were walking on detonators and exploding\ +them.\ +\ +The hussars remained in the same place for about an hour. A cannonade\ +began. Count Ostermann with his suite rode up behind the squadron,\ +halted, spoke to the commander of the regiment, and rode up the hill to\ +the guns.\ +\ +After Ostermann had gone, a command rang out to the uhlans.\ +\ +"Form column! Prepare to charge!"\ +\ +The infantry in front of them parted into platoons to allow the cavalry\ +to pass. The uhlans started, the streamers on their spears fluttering,\ +and trotted downhill toward the French cavalry which was seen below to\ +the left.\ +\ +As soon as the uhlans descended the hill, the hussars were ordered up\ +the hill to support the battery. As they took the places vacated by the\ +uhlans, bullets came from the front, whining and whistling, but fell\ +spent without taking effect.\ +\ +The sounds, which he had not heard for so long, had an even more\ +pleasurable and exhilarating effect on Rostov than the previous sounds\ +of firing. Drawing himself up, he viewed the field of battle opening out\ +before him from the hill, and with his whole soul followed the movement\ +of the uhlans. They swooped down close to the French dragoons, something\ +confused happened there amid the smoke, and five minutes later our\ +uhlans were galloping back, not to the place they had occupied but more\ +to the left, and among the orange-colored uhlans on chestnut horses and\ +behind them, in a large group, blue French dragoons on gray horses could\ +be seen.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XV\ +\ +Rostov, with his keen sportsman's eye, was one of the first to catch\ +sight of these blue French dragoons pursuing our uhlans. Nearer and\ +nearer in disorderly crowds came the uhlans and the French dragoons\ +pursuing them. He could already see how these men, who looked so small\ +at the foot of the hill, jostled and overtook one another, waving their\ +arms and their sabers in the air.\ +\ +Rostov gazed at what was happening before him as at a hunt. He felt\ +instinctively that if the hussars struck at the French dragoons now, the\ +latter could not withstand them, but if a charge was to be made it must\ +be done now, at that very moment, or it would be too late. He looked\ +around. A captain, standing beside him, was gazing like himself with\ +eyes fixed on the cavalry below them.\ +\ +"Andrew Sevastyanych!" said Rostov. "You know, we could crush them...."\ +\ +"A fine thing too!" replied the captain, "and really..."\ +\ +Rostov, without waiting to hear him out, touched his horse, galloped to\ +the front of his squadron, and before he had time to finish giving the\ +word of command, the whole squadron, sharing his feeling, was following\ +him. Rostov himself did not know how or why he did it. He acted as he\ +did when hunting, without reflecting or considering. He saw the dragoons\ +near and that they were galloping in disorder; he knew they could not\ +withstand an attack--knew there was only that moment and that if he let\ +it slip it would not return. The bullets were whining and whistling so\ +stimulatingly around him and his horse was so eager to go that he could\ +not restrain himself. He touched his horse, gave the word of command,\ +and immediately, hearing behind him the tramp of the horses of his\ +deployed squadron, rode at full trot downhill toward the dragoons.\ +Hardly had they reached the bottom of the hill before their pace\ +instinctively changed to a gallop, which grew faster and faster as they\ +drew nearer to our uhlans and the French dragoons who galloped after\ +them. The dragoons were now close at hand. On seeing the hussars, the\ +foremost began to turn, while those behind began to halt. With the same\ +feeling with which he had galloped across the path of a wolf, Rostov\ +gave rein to his Donets horse and galloped to intersect the path of the\ +dragoons' disordered lines. One Uhlan stopped, another who was on foot\ +flung himself to the ground to avoid being knocked over, and a riderless\ +horse fell in among the hussars. Nearly all the French dragoons were\ +galloping back. Rostov, picking out one on a gray horse, dashed after\ +him. On the way he came upon a bush, his gallant horse cleared it, and\ +almost before he had righted himself in his saddle he saw that he would\ +immediately overtake the enemy he had selected. That Frenchman, by his\ +uniform an officer, was going at a gallop, crouching on his gray horse\ +and urging it on with his saber. In another moment Rostov's horse dashed\ +its breast against the hindquarters of the officer's horse, almost\ +knocking it over, and at the same instant Rostov, without knowing why,\ +raised his saber and struck the Frenchman with it.\ +\ +The instant he had done this, all Rostov's animation vanished. The\ +officer fell, not so much from the blow--which had but slightly cut his\ +arm above the elbow--as from the shock to his horse and from fright.\ +Rostov reined in his horse, and his eyes sought his foe to see whom he\ +had vanquished. The French dragoon officer was hopping with one foot on\ +the ground, the other being caught in the stirrup. His eyes, screwed up\ +with fear as if he every moment expected another blow, gazed up at\ +Rostov with shrinking terror. His pale and mud-stained face--fair and\ +young, with a dimple in the chin and light-blue eyes--was not an enemy's\ +face at all suited to a battlefield, but a most ordinary, homelike face.\ +Before Rostov had decided what to do with him, the officer cried, "I\ +surrender!" He hurriedly but vainly tried to get his foot out of the\ +stirrup and did not remove his frightened blue eyes from Rostov's face.\ +Some hussars who galloped up disengaged his foot and helped him into the\ +saddle. On all sides, the hussars were busy with the dragoons; one was\ +wounded, but though his face was bleeding, he would not give up his\ +horse; another was perched up behind an hussar with his arms round him;\ +a third was being helped by an hussar to mount his horse. In front, the\ +French infantry were firing as they ran. The hussars galloped hastily\ +back with their prisoners. Rostov galloped back with the rest, aware of\ +an unpleasant feeling of depression in his heart. Something vague and\ +confused, which he could not at all account for, had come over him with\ +the capture of that officer and the blow he had dealt him.\ +\ +Count Ostermann-Tolstoy met the returning hussars, sent for Rostov,\ +thanked him, and said he would report his gallant deed to the Emperor\ +and would recommend him for a St. George's Cross. When sent for by Count\ +Ostermann, Rostov, remembering that he had charged without orders, felt\ +sure his commander was sending for him to punish him for breach of\ +discipline. Ostermann's flattering words and promise of a reward should\ +therefore have struck him all the more pleasantly, but he still felt\ +that same vaguely disagreeable feeling of moral nausea. "But what on\ +earth is worrying me?" he asked himself as he rode back from the\ +general. "Ilyin? No, he's safe. Have I disgraced myself in any way? No,\ +that's not it." Something else, resembling remorse, tormented him. "Yes,\ +oh yes, that French officer with the dimple. And I remember how my arm\ +paused when I raised it."\ +\ +Rostov saw the prisoners being led away and galloped after them to have\ +a look at his Frenchman with the dimple on his chin. He was sitting in\ +his foreign uniform on an hussar packhorse and looked anxiously about\ +him; The sword cut on his arm could scarcely be called a wound. He\ +glanced at Rostov with a feigned smile and waved his hand in greeting.\ +Rostov still had the same indefinite feeling, as of shame.\ +\ +All that day and the next his friends and comrades noticed that Rostov,\ +without being dull or angry, was silent, thoughtful, and preoccupied. He\ +drank reluctantly, tried to remain alone, and kept turning something\ +over in his mind.\ +\ +Rostov was always thinking about that brilliant exploit of his, which to\ +his amazement had gained him the St. George's Cross and even given him a\ +reputation for bravery, and there was something he could not at all\ +understand. "So others are even more afraid than I am!" he thought. "So\ +that's all there is in what is called heroism! And did I do it for my\ +country's sake? And how was he to blame, with his dimple and blue eyes?\ +And how frightened he was! He thought that I should kill him. Why should\ +I kill him? My hand trembled. And they have given me a St. George's\ +Cross.... I can't make it out at all."\ +\ +But while Nicholas was considering these questions and still could reach\ +no clear solution of what puzzled him so, the wheel of fortune in the\ +service, as often happens, turned in his favor. After the affair at\ +Ostrovna he was brought into notice, received command of an hussar\ +battalion, and when a brave officer was needed he was chosen.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XVI\ +\ +On receiving news of Natasha's illness, the countess, though not quite\ +well yet and still weak, went to Moscow with Petya and the rest of the\ +household, and the whole family moved from Marya Dmitrievna's house to\ +their own and settled down in town.\ +\ +Natasha's illness was so serious that, fortunately for her and for her\ +parents, the consideration of all that had caused the illness, her\ +conduct and the breaking off of her engagement, receded into the\ +background. She was so ill that it was impossible for them to consider\ +in how far she was to blame for what had happened. She could not eat or\ +sleep, grew visibly thinner, coughed, and, as the doctors made them\ +feel, was in danger. They could not think of anything but how to help\ +her. Doctors came to see her singly and in consultation, talked much in\ +French, German, and Latin, blamed one another, and prescribed a great\ +variety of medicines for all the diseases known to them, but the simple\ +idea never occurred to any of them that they could not know the disease\ +Natasha was suffering from, as no disease suffered by a live man can be\ +known, for every living person has his own peculiarities and always has\ +his own peculiar, personal, novel, complicated disease, unknown to\ +medicine--not a disease of the lungs, liver, skin, heart, nerves, and so\ +on mentioned in medical books, but a disease consisting of one of the\ +innumerable combinations of the maladies of those organs. This simple\ +thought could not occur to the doctors (as it cannot occur to a wizard\ +that he is unable to work his charms) because the business of their\ +lives was to cure, and they received money for it and had spent the best\ +years of their lives on that business. But, above all, that thought was\ +kept out of their minds by the fact that they saw they were really\ +useful, as in fact they were to the whole Rostov family. Their\ +usefulness did not depend on making the patient swallow substances for\ +the most part harmful (the harm was scarcely perceptible, as they were\ +given in small doses), but they were useful, necessary, and\ +indispensable because they satisfied a mental need of the invalid and of\ +those who loved her--and that is why there are, and always will be,\ +pseudo-healers, wise women, homeopaths, and allopaths. They satisfied\ +that eternal human need for hope of relief, for sympathy, and that\ +something should be done, which is felt by those who are suffering. They\ +satisfied the need seen in its most elementary form in a child, when it\ +wants to have a place rubbed that has been hurt. A child knocks itself\ +and runs at once to the arms of its mother or nurse to have the aching\ +spot rubbed or kissed, and it feels better when this is done. The child\ +cannot believe that the strongest and wisest of its people have no\ +remedy for its pain, and the hope of relief and the expression of its\ +mother's sympathy while she rubs the bump comforts it. The doctors were\ +of use to Natasha because they kissed and rubbed her bump, assuring her\ +that it would soon pass if only the coachman went to the chemist's in\ +the Arbat and got a powder and some pills in a pretty box for a ruble\ +and seventy kopeks, and if she took those powders in boiled water at\ +intervals of precisely two hours, neither more nor less.\ +\ +What would Sonya and the count and countess have done, how would they\ +have looked, if nothing had been done, if there had not been those pills\ +to give by the clock, the warm drinks, the chicken cutlets, and all the\ +other details of life ordered by the doctors, the carrying out of which\ +supplied an occupation and consolation to the family circle? How would\ +the count have borne his dearly loved daughter's illness had he not\ +known that it was costing him a thousand rubles, and that he would not\ +grudge thousands more to benefit her, or had he not known that if her\ +illness continued he would not grudge yet other thousands and would take\ +her abroad for consultations there, and had he not been able to explain\ +the details of how Metivier and Feller had not understood the symptoms,\ +but Frise had, and Mudrov had diagnosed them even better? What would the\ +countess have done had she not been able sometimes to scold the invalid\ +for not strictly obeying the doctor's orders?\ +\ +"You'll never get well like that," she would say, forgetting her grief\ +in her vexation, "if you won't obey the doctor and take your medicine at\ +the right time! You mustn't trifle with it, you know, or it may turn to\ +pneumonia," she would go on, deriving much comfort from the utterance of\ +that foreign word, incomprehensible to others as well as to herself.\ +\ +What would Sonya have done without the glad consciousness that she had\ +not undressed during the first three nights, in order to be ready to\ +carry out all the doctor's injunctions with precision, and that she\ +still kept awake at night so as not to miss the proper time when the\ +slightly harmful pills in the little gilt box had to be administered?\ +Even to Natasha herself it was pleasant to see that so many sacrifices\ +were being made for her sake, and to know that she had to take medicine\ +at certain hours, though she declared that no medicine would cure her\ +and that it was all nonsense. And it was even pleasant to be able to\ +show, by disregarding the orders, that she did not believe in medical\ +treatment and did not value her life.\ +\ +The doctor came every day, felt her pulse, looked at her tongue, and\ +regardless of her grief-stricken face joked with her. But when he had\ +gone into another room, to which the countess hurriedly followed him, he\ +assumed a grave air and thoughtfully shaking his head said that though\ +there was danger, he had hopes of the effect of this last medicine and\ +one must wait and see, that the malady was chiefly mental, but... And\ +the countess, trying to conceal the action from herself and from him,\ +slipped a gold coin into his hand and always returned to the patient\ +with a more tranquil mind.\ +\ +The symptoms of Natasha's illness were that she ate little, slept\ +little, coughed, and was always low-spirited. The doctors said that she\ +could not get on without medical treatment, so they kept her in the\ +stifling atmosphere of the town, and the Rostovs did not move to the\ +country that summer of 1812.\ +\ +In spite of the many pills she swallowed and the drops and powders out\ +of the little bottles and boxes of which Madame Schoss who was fond of\ +such things made a large collection, and in spite of being deprived of\ +the country life to which she was accustomed, youth prevailed. Natasha's\ +grief began to be overlaid by the impressions of daily life, it ceased\ +to press so painfully on her heart, it gradually faded into the past,\ +and she began to recover physically.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XVII\ +\ +Natasha was calmer but no happier. She not merely avoided all external\ +forms of pleasure--balls, promenades, concerts, and theaters--but she\ +never laughed without a sound of tears in her laughter. She could not\ +sing. As soon as she began to laugh, or tried to sing by herself, tears\ +choked her: tears of remorse, tears at the recollection of those pure\ +times which could never return, tears of vexation that she should so\ +uselessly have ruined her young life which might have been so happy.\ +Laughter and singing in particular seemed to her like a blasphemy, in\ +face of her sorrow. Without any need of self-restraint, no wish to\ +coquet ever entered her head. She said and felt at that time that no man\ +was more to her than Nastasya Ivanovna, the buffoon. Something stood\ +sentinel within her and forbade her every joy. Besides, she had lost all\ +the old interests of her carefree girlish life that had been so full of\ +hope. The previous autumn, the hunting, "Uncle," and the Christmas\ +holidays spent with Nicholas at Otradnoe were what she recalled oftenest\ +and most painfully. What would she not have given to bring back even a\ +single day of that time! But it was gone forever. Her presentiment at\ +the time had not deceived her--that that state of freedom and readiness\ +for any enjoyment would not return again. Yet it was necessary to live\ +on.\ +\ +It comforted her to reflect that she was not better as she had formerly\ +imagined, but worse, much worse, than anybody else in the world. But\ +this was not enough. She knew that, and asked herself, "What next?" But\ +there was nothing to come. There was no joy in life, yet life was\ +passing. Natasha apparently tried not to be a burden or a hindrance to\ +anyone, but wanted nothing for herself. She kept away from everyone in\ +the house and felt at ease only with her brother Petya. She liked to be\ +with him better than with the others, and when alone with him she\ +sometimes laughed. She hardly ever left the house and of those who came\ +to see them was glad to see only one person, Pierre. It would have been\ +impossible to treat her with more delicacy, greater care, and at the\ +same time more seriously than did Count Bezukhov. Natasha unconsciously\ +felt this delicacy and so found great pleasure in his society. But she\ +was not even grateful to him for it; nothing good on Pierre's part\ +seemed to her to be an effort, it seemed so natural for him to be kind\ +to everyone that there was no merit in his kindness. Sometimes Natasha\ +noticed embarrassment and awkwardness on his part in her presence,\ +especially when he wanted to do something to please her, or feared that\ +something they spoke of would awaken memories distressing to her. She\ +noticed this and attributed it to his general kindness and shyness,\ +which she imagined must be the same toward everyone as it was to her.\ +After those involuntary words--that if he were free he would have asked\ +on his knees for her hand and her love--uttered at a moment when she was\ +so strongly agitated, Pierre never spoke to Natasha of his feelings; and\ +it seemed plain to her that those words, which had then so comforted\ +her, were spoken as all sorts of meaningless words are spoken to comfort\ +a crying child. It was not because Pierre was a married man, but because\ +Natasha felt very strongly with him that moral barrier the absence of\ +which she had experienced with Kuragin that it never entered her head\ +that the relations between him and herself could lead to love on her\ +part, still less on his, or even to the kind of tender, self-conscious,\ +romantic friendship between a man and a woman of which she had known\ +several instances.\ +\ +Before the end of the fast of St. Peter, Agrafena Ivanovna Belova, a\ +country neighbor of the Rostovs, came to Moscow to pay her devotions at\ +the shrines of the Moscow saints. She suggested that Natasha should fast\ +and prepare for Holy Communion, and Natasha gladly welcomed the idea.\ +Despite the doctor's orders that she should not go out early in the\ +morning, Natasha insisted on fasting and preparing for the sacrament,\ +not as they generally prepared for it in the Rostov family by attending\ +three services in their own house, but as Agrafena Ivanovna did, by\ +going to church every day for a week and not once missing Vespers,\ +Matins, or Mass.\ +\ +The countess was pleased with Natasha's zeal; after the poor results of\ +the medical treatment, in the depths of her heart she hoped that prayer\ +might help her daughter more than medicines and, though not without fear\ +and concealing it from the doctor, she agreed to Natasha's wish and\ +entrusted her to Belova. Agrafena Ivanovna used to come to wake Natasha\ +at three in the morning, but generally found her already awake. She was\ +afraid of being late for Matins. Hastily washing, and meekly putting on\ +her shabbiest dress and an old mantilla, Natasha, shivering in the fresh\ +air, went out into the deserted streets lit by the clear light of dawn.\ +By Agrafena Ivanovna's advice Natasha prepared herself not in their own\ +parish, but at a church where, according to the devout Agrafena\ +Ivanovna, the priest was a man of very severe and lofty life. There were\ +never many people in the church; Natasha always stood beside Belova in\ +the customary place before an icon of the Blessed Virgin, let into the\ +screen before the choir on the left side, and a feeling, new to her, of\ +humility before something great and incomprehensible, seized her when at\ +that unusual morning hour, gazing at the dark face of the Virgin\ +illuminated by the candles burning before it and by the morning light\ +falling from the window, she listened to the words of the service which\ +she tried to follow with understanding. When she understood them her\ +personal feeling became interwoven in the prayers with shades of its\ +own. When she did not understand, it was sweeter still to think that the\ +wish to understand everything is pride, that it is impossible to\ +understand all, that it is only necessary to believe and to commit\ +oneself to God, whom she felt guiding her soul at those moments. She\ +crossed herself, bowed low, and when she did not understand, in horror\ +at her own vileness, simply asked God to forgive her everything,\ +everything, to have mercy upon her. The prayers to which she surrendered\ +herself most of all were those of repentance. On her way home at an\ +early hour when she met no one but bricklayers going to work or men\ +sweeping the street, and everybody within the houses was still asleep,\ +Natasha experienced a feeling new to her, a sense of the possibility of\ +correcting her faults, the possibility of a new, clean life, and of\ +happiness.\ +\ +During the whole week she spent in this way, that feeling grew every\ +day. And the happiness of taking communion, or "communing" as Agrafena\ +Ivanovna, joyously playing with the word, called it, seemed to Natasha\ +so great that she felt she should never live till that blessed Sunday.\ +\ +But the happy day came, and on that memorable Sunday, when, dressed in\ +white muslin, she returned home after communion, for the first time for\ +many months she felt calm and not oppressed by the thought of the life\ +that lay before her.\ +\ +The doctor who came to see her that day ordered her to continue the\ +powders he had prescribed a fortnight previously.\ +\ +"She must certainly go on taking them morning and evening," said he,\ +evidently sincerely satisfied with his success. "Only, please be\ +particular about it.\ +\ +"Be quite easy," he continued playfully, as he adroitly took the gold\ +coin in his palm. "She will soon be singing and frolicking about. The\ +last medicine has done her a very great deal of good. She has freshened\ +up very much."\ +\ +The countess, with a cheerful expression on her face, looked down at her\ +nails and spat a little for luck as she returned to the drawing room.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XVIII\ +\ +At the beginning of July more and more disquieting reports about the war\ +began to spread in Moscow; people spoke of an appeal by the Emperor to\ +the people, and of his coming himself from the army to Moscow. And as up\ +to the eleventh of July no manifesto or appeal had been received,\ +exaggerated reports became current about them and about the position of\ +Russia. It was said that the Emperor was leaving the army because it was\ +in danger, it was said that Smolensk had surrendered, that Napoleon had\ +an army of a million and only a miracle could save Russia.\ +\ +On the eleventh of July, which was Saturday, the manifesto was received\ +but was not yet in print, and Pierre, who was at the Rostovs', promised\ +to come to dinner next day, Sunday, and bring a copy of the manifesto\ +and appeal, which he would obtain from Count Rostopchin.\ +\ +That Sunday, the Rostovs went to Mass at the Razumovskis' private chapel\ +as usual. It was a hot July day. Even at ten o'clock, when the Rostovs\ +got out of their carriage at the chapel, the sultry air, the shouts of\ +hawkers, the light and gay summer clothes of the crowd, the dusty leaves\ +of the trees on the boulevard, the sounds of the band and the white\ +trousers of a battalion marching to parade, the rattling of wheels on\ +the cobblestones, and the brilliant, hot sunshine were all full of that\ +summer languor, that content and discontent with the present, which is\ +most strongly felt on a bright, hot day in town. All the Moscow\ +notabilities, all the Rostovs' acquaintances, were at the Razumovskis'\ +chapel, for, as if expecting something to happen, many wealthy families\ +who usually left town for their country estates had not gone away that\ +summer. As Natasha, at her mother's side, passed through the crowd\ +behind a liveried footman who cleared the way for them, she heard a\ +young man speaking about her in too loud a whisper.\ +\ +"That's Rostova, the one who..."\ +\ +"She's much thinner, but all the same she's pretty!"\ +\ +She heard, or thought she heard, the names of Kuragin and Bolkonski. But\ +she was always imagining that. It always seemed to her that everyone who\ +looked at her was thinking only of what had happened to her. With a\ +sinking heart, wretched as she always was now when she found herself in\ +a crowd, Natasha in her lilac silk dress trimmed with black lace walked-\ +-as women can walk--with the more repose and stateliness the greater the\ +pain and shame in her soul. She knew for certain that she was pretty,\ +but this no longer gave her satisfaction as it used to. On the contrary\ +it tormented her more than anything else of late, and particularly so on\ +this bright, hot summer day in town. "It's Sunday again--another week\ +past," she thought, recalling that she had been here the Sunday before,\ +"and always the same life that is no life, and the same surroundings in\ +which it used to be so easy to live. I'm pretty, I'm young, and I know\ +that now I am good. I used to be bad, but now I know I am good," she\ +thought, "but yet my best years are slipping by and are no good to\ +anyone." She stood by her mother's side and exchanged nods with\ +acquaintances near her. From habit she scrutinized the ladies' dresses,\ +condemned the bearing of a lady standing close by who was not crossing\ +herself properly but in a cramped manner, and again she thought with\ +vexation that she was herself being judged and was judging others, and\ +suddenly, at the sound of the service, she felt horrified at her own\ +vileness, horrified that the former purity of her soul was again lost to\ +her.\ +\ +A comely, fresh-looking old man was conducting the service with that\ +mild solemnity which has so elevating and soothing an effect on the\ +souls of the worshipers. The gates of the sanctuary screen were closed,\ +the curtain was slowly drawn, and from behind it a soft mysterious voice\ +pronounced some words. Tears, the cause of which she herself did not\ +understand, made Natasha's breast heave, and a joyous but oppressive\ +feeling agitated her.\ +\ +"Teach me what I should do, how to live my life, how I may grow good\ +forever, forever!" she pleaded.\ +\ +The deacon came out onto the raised space before the altar screen and,\ +holding his thumb extended, drew his long hair from under his dalmatic\ +and, making the sign of the cross on his breast, began in a loud and\ +solemn voice to recite the words of the prayer...\ +\ +"In peace let us pray unto the Lord."\ +\ +"As one community, without distinction of class, without enmity, united\ +by brotherly love--let us pray!" thought Natasha.\ +\ +"For the peace that is from above, and for the salvation of our souls."\ +\ +"For the world of angels and all the spirits who dwell above us," prayed\ +Natasha.\ +\ +When they prayed for the warriors, she thought of her brother and\ +Denisov. When they prayed for all traveling by land and sea, she\ +remembered Prince Andrew, prayed for him, and asked God to forgive her\ +all the wrongs she had done him. When they prayed for those who love us,\ +she prayed for the members of her own family, her father and mother and\ +Sonya, realizing for the first time how wrongly she had acted toward\ +them, and feeling all the strength of her love for them. When they\ +prayed for those who hate us, she tried to think of her enemies and\ +people who hated her, in order to pray for them. She included among her\ +enemies the creditors and all who had business dealings with her father,\ +and always at the thought of enemies and those who hated her she\ +remembered Anatole who had done her so much harm--and though he did not\ +hate her she gladly prayed for him as for an enemy. Only at prayer did\ +she feel able to think clearly and calmly of Prince Andrew and Anatole,\ +as men for whom her feelings were as nothing compared with her awe and\ +devotion to God. When they prayed for the Imperial family and the Synod,\ +she bowed very low and made the sign of the cross, saying to herself\ +that even if she did not understand, still she could not doubt, and at\ +any rate loved the governing Synod and prayed for it.\ +\ +When he had finished the Litany the deacon crossed the stole over his\ +breast and said, "Let us commit ourselves and our whole lives to Christ\ +the Lord!"\ +\ +"Commit ourselves to God," Natasha inwardly repeated. "Lord God, I\ +submit myself to Thy will!" she thought. "I want nothing, wish for\ +nothing; teach me what to do and how to use my will! Take me, take me!"\ +prayed Natasha, with impatient emotion in her heart, not crossing\ +herself but letting her slender arms hang down as if expecting some\ +invisible power at any moment to take her and deliver her from herself,\ +from her regrets, desires, remorse, hopes, and sins.\ +\ +The countess looked round several times at her daughter's softened face\ +and shining eyes and prayed God to help her.\ +\ +Unexpectedly, in the middle of the service, and not in the usual order\ +Natasha knew so well, the deacon brought out a small stool, the one he\ +knelt on when praying on Trinity Sunday, and placed it before the doors\ +of the sanctuary screen. The priest came out with his purple velvet\ +biretta on his head, adjusted his hair, and knelt down with an effort.\ +Everybody followed his example and they looked at one another in\ +surprise. Then came the prayer just received from the Synod--a prayer\ +for the deliverance of Russia from hostile invasion.\ +\ +"Lord God of might, God of our salvation!" began the priest in that\ +voice, clear, not grandiloquent but mild, in which only the Slav clergy\ +read and which acts so irresistibly on a Russian heart.\ +\ +"Lord God of might, God of our salvation! Look this day in mercy and\ +blessing on Thy humble people, and graciously hear us, spare us, and\ +have mercy upon us! This foe confounding Thy land, desiring to lay waste\ +the whole world, rises against us; these lawless men are gathered\ +together to overthrow Thy kingdom, to destroy Thy dear Jerusalem, Thy\ +beloved Russia; to defile Thy temples, to overthrow Thine altars, and to\ +desecrate our holy shrines. How long, O Lord, how long shall the wicked\ +triumph? How long shall they wield unlawful power?\ +\ +"Lord God! Hear us when we pray to Thee; strengthen with Thy might our\ +most gracious sovereign lord, the Emperor Alexander Pavlovich; be\ +mindful of his uprightness and meekness, reward him according to his\ +righteousness, and let it preserve us, Thy chosen Israel! Bless his\ +counsels, his undertakings, and his work; strengthen his kingdom by\ +Thine almighty hand, and give him victory over his enemy, even as Thou\ +gavest Moses the victory over Amalek, Gideon over Midian, and David over\ +Goliath. Preserve his army, put a bow of brass in the hands of those who\ +have armed themselves in Thy Name, and gird their loins with strength\ +for the fight. Take up the spear and shield and arise to help us;\ +confound and put to shame those who have devised evil against us, may\ +they be before the faces of Thy faithful warriors as dust before the\ +wind, and may Thy mighty Angel confound them and put them to flight; may\ +they be ensnared when they know it not, and may the plots they have laid\ +in secret be turned against them; let them fall before Thy servants'\ +feet and be laid low by our hosts! Lord, Thou art able to save both\ +great and small; Thou art God, and man cannot prevail against Thee!\ +\ +"God of our fathers! Remember Thy bounteous mercy and loving-kindness\ +which are from of old; turn not Thy face from us, but be gracious to our\ +unworthiness, and in Thy great goodness and Thy many mercies regard not\ +our transgressions and iniquities! Create in us a clean heart and renew\ +a right spirit within us, strengthen us all in Thy faith, fortify our\ +hope, inspire us with true love one for another, arm us with unity of\ +spirit in the righteous defense of the heritage Thou gavest to us and to\ +our fathers, and let not the scepter of the wicked be exalted against\ +the destiny of those Thou hast sanctified.\ +\ +"O Lord our God, in whom we believe and in whom we put our trust, let us\ +not be confounded in our hope of Thy mercy, and give us a token of Thy\ +blessing, that those who hate us and our Orthodox faith may see it and\ +be put to shame and perish, and may all the nations know that Thou art\ +the Lord and we are Thy people. Show Thy mercy upon us this day, O Lord,\ +and grant us Thy salvation; make the hearts of Thy servants to rejoice\ +in Thy mercy; smite down our enemies and destroy them swiftly beneath\ +the feet of Thy faithful servants! For Thou art the defense, the succor,\ +and the victory of them that put their trust in Thee, and to Thee be all\ +glory, to Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, now and forever, world without\ +end. Amen."\ +\ +In Natasha's receptive condition of soul this prayer affected her\ +strongly. She listened to every word about the victory of Moses over\ +Amalek, of Gideon over Midian, and of David over Goliath, and about the\ +destruction of "Thy Jerusalem," and she prayed to God with the\ +tenderness and emotion with which her heart was overflowing, but without\ +fully understanding what she was asking of God in that prayer. She\ +shared with all her heart in the prayer for the spirit of righteousness,\ +for the strengthening of the heart by faith and hope, and its animation\ +by love. But she could not pray that her enemies might be trampled under\ +foot when but a few minutes before she had been wishing she had more of\ +them that she might pray for them. But neither could she doubt the\ +righteousness of the prayer that was being read on bended knees. She\ +felt in her heart a devout and tremulous awe at the thought of the\ +punishment that overtakes men for their sins, and especially of her own\ +sins, and she prayed to God to forgive them all, and her too, and to\ +give them all, and her too, peace and happiness. And it seemed to her\ +that God heard her prayer.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XIX\ +\ +From the day when Pierre, after leaving the Rostovs' with Natasha's\ +grateful look fresh in his mind, had gazed at the comet that seemed to\ +be fixed in the sky and felt that something new was appearing on his own\ +horizon--from that day the problem of the vanity and uselessness of all\ +earthly things, that had incessantly tormented him, no longer presented\ +itself. That terrible question "Why?" "Wherefore?" which had come to him\ +amid every occupation, was now replaced, not by another question or by a\ +reply to the former question, but by her image. When he listened to, or\ +himself took part in, trivial conversations, when he read or heard of\ +human baseness or folly, he was not horrified as formerly, and did not\ +ask himself why men struggled so about these things when all is so\ +transient and incomprehensible--but he remembered her as he had last\ +seen her, and all his doubts vanished--not because she had answered the\ +questions that had haunted him, but because his conception of her\ +transferred him instantly to another, a brighter, realm of spiritual\ +activity in which no one could be justified or guilty--a realm of beauty\ +and love which it was worth living for. Whatever worldly baseness\ +presented itself to him, he said to himself:\ +\ +"Well, supposing N. N. swindled the country and the Tsar, and the\ +country and the Tsar confer honors upon him, what does that matter? She\ +smiled at me yesterday and asked me to come again, and I love her, and\ +no one will ever know it." And his soul felt calm and peaceful.\ +\ +Pierre still went into society, drank as much and led the same idle and\ +dissipated life, because besides the hours he spent at the Rostovs'\ +there were other hours he had to spend somehow, and the habits and\ +acquaintances he had made in Moscow formed a current that bore him along\ +irresistibly. But latterly, when more and more disquieting reports came\ +from the seat of war and Natasha's health began to improve and she no\ +longer aroused in him the former feeling of careful pity, an ever-\ +increasing restlessness, which he could not explain, took possession of\ +him. He felt that the condition he was in could not continue long, that\ +a catastrophe was coming which would change his whole life, and he\ +impatiently sought everywhere for signs of that approaching catastrophe.\ +One of his brother Masons had revealed to Pierre the following prophecy\ +concerning Napoleon, drawn from the Revelation of St. John.\ +\ +In chapter 13, verse 18, of the Apocalypse, it is said:\ +\ +Here is wisdom. Let him that hath understanding count the number of the\ +beast: for it is the number of a man; and his number is Six hundred\ +threescore and six.\ +\ +And in the fifth verse of the same chapter:\ +\ +And there was given unto him a mouth speaking great things and\ +blasphemies; and power was given unto him to continue forty and two\ +months.\ +\ +The French alphabet, written out with the same numerical values as the\ +Hebrew, in which the first nine letters denote units and the others\ +tens, will have the following significance:\ +\ +\ +a b c d e f g h i k 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9\ +10 l m n o p q r s 20 30 40 50 60 70 80\ +90 t u v w x y 100 110 120 130 140 150 z 160\ +\ +Writing the words L'Empereur Napoleon in numbers, it appears that the\ +sum of them is 666, and that Napoleon was therefore the beast foretold\ +in the Apocalypse. Moreover, by applying the same system to the words\ +quarante-deux, * which was the term allowed to the beast that "spoke\ +great things and blasphemies," the same number 666 was obtained; from\ +which it followed that the limit fixed for Napoleon's power had come in\ +the year 1812 when the French emperor was forty-two. This prophecy\ +pleased Pierre very much and he often asked himself what would put an\ +end to the power of the beast, that is, of Napoleon, and tried by the\ +same system of using letters as numbers and adding them up, to find an\ +answer to the question that engrossed him. He wrote the words L'Empereur\ +Alexandre, La nation russe and added up their numbers, but the sums were\ +either more or less than 666. Once when making such calculations he\ +wrote down his own name in French, Comte Pierre Besouhoff, but the sum\ +of the numbers did not come right. Then he changed the spelling,\ +substituting a z for the s and adding de and the article le, still\ +without obtaining the desired result. Then it occurred to him: if the\ +answer to the question were contained in his name, his nationality would\ +also be given in the answer. So he wrote Le russe Besuhof and adding up\ +the numbers got 671. This was only five too much, and five was\ +represented by e, the very letter elided from the article le before the\ +word Empereur. By omitting the e, though incorrectly, Pierre got the\ +answer he sought. L'russe Besuhof made 666. This discovery excited him.\ +How, or by what means, he was connected with the great event foretold in\ +the Apocalypse he did not know, but he did not doubt that connection for\ +a moment. His love for Natasha, Antichrist, Napoleon, the invasion, the\ +comet, 666, L'Empereur Napoleon, and L'russe Besuhof--all this had to\ +mature and culminate, to lift him out of that spellbound, petty sphere\ +of Moscow habits in which he felt himself held captive and lead him to a\ +great achievement and great happiness.\ +\ +\ +* Forty-two.\ +\ +On the eve of the Sunday when the special prayer was read, Pierre had\ +promised the Rostovs to bring them, from Count Rostopchin whom he knew\ +well, both the appeal to the people and the news from the army. In the\ +morning, when he went to call at Rostopchin's he met there a courier\ +fresh from the army, an acquaintance of his own, who often danced at\ +Moscow balls.\ +\ +"Do, please, for heaven's sake, relieve me of something!" said the\ +courier. "I have a sackful of letters to parents."\ +\ +Among these letters was one from Nicholas Rostov to his father. Pierre\ +took that letter, and Rostopchin also gave him the Emperor's appeal to\ +Moscow, which had just been printed, the last army orders, and his own\ +most recent bulletin. Glancing through the army orders, Pierre found in\ +one of them, in the lists of killed, wounded, and rewarded, the name of\ +Nicholas Rostov, awarded a St. George's Cross of the Fourth Class for\ +courage shown in the Ostrovna affair, and in the same order the name of\ +Prince Andrew Bolkonski, appointed to the command of a regiment of\ +Chasseurs. Though he did not want to remind the Rostovs of Bolkonski,\ +Pierre could not refrain from making them happy by the news of their\ +son's having received a decoration, so he sent that printed army order\ +and Nicholas' letter to the Rostovs, keeping the appeal, the bulletin,\ +and the other orders to take with him when he went to dinner.\ +\ +His conversation with Count Rostopchin and the latter's tone of anxious\ +hurry, the meeting with the courier who talked casually of how badly\ +things were going in the army, the rumors of the discovery of spies in\ +Moscow and of a leaflet in circulation stating that Napoleon promised to\ +be in both the Russian capitals by the autumn, and the talk of the\ +Emperor's being expected to arrive next day--all aroused with fresh\ +force that feeling of agitation and expectation in Pierre which he had\ +been conscious of ever since the appearance of the comet, and especially\ +since the beginning of the war.\ +\ +He had long been thinking of entering the army and would have done so\ +had he not been hindered, first, by his membership of the Society of\ +Freemasons to which he was bound by oath and which preached perpetual\ +peace and the abolition of war, and secondly, by the fact that when he\ +saw the great mass of Muscovites who had donned uniform and were talking\ +patriotism, he somehow felt ashamed to take the step. But the chief\ +reason for not carrying out his intention to enter the army lay in the\ +vague idea that he was L'russe Besuhof who had the number of the beast,\ +666; that his part in the great affair of setting a limit to the power\ +of the beast that spoke great and blasphemous things had been\ +predestined from eternity, and that therefore he ought not to undertake\ +anything, but wait for what was bound to come to pass.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XX\ +\ +A few intimate friends were dining with the Rostovs that day, as usual\ +on Sundays.\ +\ +Pierre came early so as to find them alone.\ +\ +He had grown so stout this year that he would have been abnormal had he\ +not been so tall, so broad of limb, and so strong that he carried his\ +bulk with evident ease.\ +\ +He went up the stairs, puffing and muttering something. His coachman did\ +not even ask whether he was to wait. He knew that when his master was at\ +the Rostovs' he stayed till midnight. The Rostovs' footman rushed\ +eagerly forward to help him off with his cloak and take his hat and\ +stick. Pierre, from club habit, always left both hat and stick in the\ +anteroom.\ +\ +The first person he saw in the house was Natasha. Even before he saw\ +her, while taking off his cloak, he heard her. She was practicing solfa\ +exercises in the music room. He knew that she had not sung since her\ +illness, and so the sound of her voice surprised and delighted him. He\ +opened the door softly and saw her, in the lilac dress she had worn at\ +church, walking about the room singing. She had her back to him when he\ +opened the door, but when, turning quickly, she saw his broad, surprised\ +face, she blushed and came rapidly up to him.\ +\ +"I want to try to sing again," she said, adding as if by way of excuse,\ +"it is, at least, something to do."\ +\ +"That's capital!"\ +\ +"How glad I am you've come! I am so happy today," she said, with the old\ +animation Pierre had not seen in her for a long time. "You know Nicholas\ +has received a St. George's Cross? I am so proud of him."\ +\ +"Oh yes, I sent that announcement. But I don't want to interrupt you,"\ +he added, and was about to go to the drawing room.\ +\ +Natasha stopped him.\ +\ +"Count, is it wrong of me to sing?" she said blushing, and fixing her\ +eyes inquiringly on him.\ +\ +"No... Why should it be? On the contrary... But why do you ask me?"\ +\ +"I don't know myself," Natasha answered quickly, "but I should not like\ +to do anything you disapproved of. I believe in you completely. You\ +don't know how important you are to me, how much you've done for me...."\ +She spoke rapidly and did not notice how Pierre flushed at her words. "I\ +saw in that same army order that he, Bolkonski" (she whispered the name\ +hastily), "is in Russia, and in the army again. What do you think?"--she\ +was speaking hurriedly, evidently afraid her strength might fail her--\ +"Will he ever forgive me? Will he not always have a bitter feeling\ +toward me? What do you think? What do you think?"\ +\ +"I think..." Pierre replied, "that he has nothing to forgive.... If I\ +were in his place..."\ +\ +By association of ideas, Pierre was at once carried back to the day\ +when, trying to comfort her, he had said that if he were not himself but\ +the best man in the world and free, he would ask on his knees for her\ +hand; and the same feeling of pity, tenderness, and love took possession\ +of him and the same words rose to his lips. But she did not give him\ +time to say them.\ +\ +"Yes, you... you..." she said, uttering the word you rapturously--\ +"that's a different thing. I know no one kinder, more generous, or\ +better than you; nobody could be! Had you not been there then, and now\ +too, I don't know what would have become of me, because..."\ +\ +Tears suddenly rose in her eyes, she turned away, lifted her music\ +before her eyes, began singing again, and again began walking up and\ +down the room.\ +\ +Just then Petya came running in from the drawing room.\ +\ +Petya was now a handsome rosy lad of fifteen with full red lips and\ +resembled Natasha. He was preparing to enter the university, but he and\ +his friend Obolenski had lately, in secret, agreed to join the hussars.\ +\ +Petya had come rushing out to talk to his namesake about this affair. He\ +had asked Pierre to find out whether he would be accepted in the\ +hussars.\ +\ +Pierre walked up and down the drawing room, not listening to what Petya\ +was saying.\ +\ +Petya pulled him by the arm to attract his attention.\ +\ +"Well, what about my plan? Peter Kirilych, for heaven's sake! You are my\ +only hope," said Petya.\ +\ +"Oh yes, your plan. To join the hussars? I'll mention it, I'll bring it\ +all up today."\ +\ +"Well, mon cher, have you got the manifesto?" asked the old count. "The\ +countess has been to Mass at the Razumovskis' and heard the new prayer.\ +She says it's very fine."\ +\ +"Yes, I've got it," said Pierre. "The Emperor is to be here tomorrow...\ +there's to be an Extraordinary Meeting of the nobility, and they are\ +talking of a levy of ten men per thousand. Oh yes, let me congratulate\ +you!"\ +\ +"Yes, yes, thank God! Well, and what news from the army?"\ +\ +"We are again retreating. They say we're already near Smolensk," replied\ +Pierre.\ +\ +"O Lord, O Lord!" exclaimed the count. "Where is the manifesto?"\ +\ +"The Emperor's appeal? Oh yes!"\ +\ +Pierre began feeling in his pockets for the papers, but could not find\ +them. Still slapping his pockets, he kissed the hand of the countess who\ +entered the room and glanced uneasily around, evidently expecting\ +Natasha, who had left off singing but had not yet come into the drawing\ +room.\ +\ +"On my word, I don't know what I've done with it," he said.\ +\ +"There he is, always losing everything!" remarked the countess.\ +\ +Natasha entered with a softened and agitated expression of face and sat\ +down looking silently at Pierre. As soon as she entered, Pierre's\ +features, which had been gloomy, suddenly lighted up, and while still\ +searching for the papers he glanced at her several times.\ +\ +"No, really! I'll drive home, I must have left them there. I'll\ +certainly..."\ +\ +"But you'll be late for dinner."\ +\ +"Oh! And my coachman has gone."\ +\ +But Sonya, who had gone to look for the papers in the anteroom, had\ +found them in Pierre's hat, where he had carefully tucked them under the\ +lining. Pierre was about to begin reading.\ +\ +"No, after dinner," said the old count, evidently expecting much\ +enjoyment from that reading.\ +\ +At dinner, at which champagne was drunk to the health of the new\ +chevalier of St. George, Shinshin told them the town news, of the\ +illness of the old Georgian princess, of Metivier's disappearance from\ +Moscow, and of how some German fellow had been brought to Rostopchin and\ +accused of being a French "spyer" (so Count Rostopchin had told the\ +story), and how Rostopchin let him go and assured the people that he was\ +"not a spire at all, but only an old German ruin."\ +\ +"People are being arrested..." said the count. "I've told the countess\ +she should not speak French so much. It's not the time for it now."\ +\ +"And have you heard?" Shinshin asked. "Prince Golitsyn has engaged a\ +master to teach him Russian. It is becoming dangerous to speak French in\ +the streets."\ +\ +"And how about you, Count Peter Kirilych? If they call up the militia,\ +you too will have to mount a horse," remarked the old count, addressing\ +Pierre.\ +\ +Pierre had been silent and preoccupied all through dinner, seeming not\ +to grasp what was said. He looked at the count.\ +\ +"Oh yes, the war," he said. "No! What sort of warrior should I make? And\ +yet everything is so strange, so strange! I can't make it out. I don't\ +know, I am very far from having military tastes, but in these times no\ +one can answer for himself."\ +\ +After dinner the count settled himself comfortably in an easy chair and\ +with a serious face asked Sonya, who was considered an excellent reader,\ +to read the appeal.\ +\ +"To Moscow, our ancient Capital!\ +\ +"The enemy has entered the borders of Russia with immense forces. He\ +comes to despoil our beloved country."\ +\ +Sonya read painstakingly in her high-pitched voice. The count listened\ +with closed eyes, heaving abrupt sighs at certain passages.\ +\ +Natasha sat erect, gazing with a searching look now at her father and\ +now at Pierre.\ +\ +Pierre felt her eyes on him and tried not to look round. The countess\ +shook her head disapprovingly and angrily at every solemn expression in\ +the manifesto. In all these words she saw only that the danger\ +threatening her son would not soon be over. Shinshin, with a sarcastic\ +smile on his lips, was evidently preparing to make fun of anything that\ +gave him the opportunity: Sonya's reading, any remark of the count's, or\ +even the manifesto itself should no better pretext present itself.\ +\ +After reading about the dangers that threatened Russia, the hopes the\ +Emperor placed on Moscow and especially on its illustrious nobility,\ +Sonya, with a quiver in her voice due chiefly to the attention that was\ +being paid to her, read the last words:\ +\ +"We ourselves will not delay to appear among our people in that Capital\ +and in other parts of our realm for consultation, and for the direction\ +of all our levies, both those now barring the enemy's path and those\ +freshly formed to defeat him wherever he may appear. May the ruin he\ +hopes to bring upon us recoil on his own head, and may Europe delivered\ +from bondage glorify the name of Russia!"\ +\ +"Yes, that's it!" cried the count, opening his moist eyes and sniffing\ +repeatedly, as if a strong vinaigrette had been held to his nose; and he\ +added, "Let the Emperor but say the word and we'll sacrifice everything\ +and begrudge nothing."\ +\ +Before Shinshin had time to utter the joke he was ready to make on the\ +count's patriotism, Natasha jumped up from her place and ran to her\ +father.\ +\ +"What a darling our Papa is!" she cried, kissing him, and she again\ +looked at Pierre with the unconscious coquetry that had returned to her\ +with her better spirits.\ +\ +"There! Here's a patriot for you!" said Shinshin.\ +\ +"Not a patriot at all, but simply..." Natasha replied in an injured\ +tone. "Everything seems funny to you, but this isn't at all a joke...."\ +\ +"A joke indeed!" put in the count. "Let him but say the word and we'll\ +all go.... We're not Germans!"\ +\ +"But did you notice, it says, 'for consultation'?" said Pierre.\ +\ +"Never mind what it's for...."\ +\ +At this moment, Petya, to whom nobody was paying any attention, came up\ +to his father with a very flushed face and said in his breaking voice\ +that was now deep and now shrill:\ +\ +"Well, Papa, I tell you definitely, and Mamma too, it's as you please,\ +but I say definitely that you must let me enter the army, because I\ +can't... that's all...."\ +\ +The countess, in dismay, looked up to heaven, clasped her hands, and\ +turned angrily to her husband.\ +\ +"That comes of your talking!" said she.\ +\ +But the count had already recovered from his excitement.\ +\ +"Come, come!" said he. "Here's a fine warrior! No! Nonsense! You must\ +study."\ +\ +"It's not nonsense, Papa. Fedya Obolenski is younger than I, and he's\ +going too. Besides, all the same I can't study now when..." Petya\ +stopped short, flushed till he perspired, but still got out the words,\ +"when our Fatherland is in danger."\ +\ +"That'll do, that'll do--nonsense...."\ +\ +"But you said yourself that we would sacrifice everything."\ +\ +"Petya! Be quiet, I tell you!" cried the count, with a glance at his\ +wife, who had turned pale and was staring fixedly at her son.\ +\ +"And I tell you--Peter Kirilych here will also tell you..."\ +\ +"Nonsense, I tell you. Your mother's milk has hardly dried on your lips\ +and you want to go into the army! There, there, I tell you," and the\ +count moved to go out of the room, taking the papers, probably to reread\ +them in his study before having a nap.\ +\ +"Well, Peter Kirilych, let's go and have a smoke," he said.\ +\ +Pierre was agitated and undecided. Natasha's unwontedly brilliant eyes,\ +continually glancing at him with a more than cordial look, had reduced\ +him to this condition.\ +\ +"No, I think I'll go home."\ +\ +"Home? Why, you meant to spend the evening with us.... You don't often\ +come nowadays as it is, and this girl of mine," said the count good-\ +naturedly, pointing to Natasha, "only brightens up when you're here."\ +\ +"Yes, I had forgotten... I really must go home... business..." said\ +Pierre hurriedly.\ +\ +"Well, then, au revoir!" said the count, and went out of the room.\ +\ +"Why are you going? Why are you upset?" asked Natasha, and she looked\ +challengingly into Pierre's eyes.\ +\ +"Because I love you!" was what he wanted to say, but he did not say it,\ +and only blushed till the tears came, and lowered his eyes.\ +\ +"Because it is better for me to come less often... because... No, simply\ +I have business...."\ +\ +"Why? No, tell me!" Natasha began resolutely and suddenly stopped.\ +\ +They looked at each other with dismayed and embarrassed faces. He tried\ +to smile but could not: his smile expressed suffering, and he silently\ +kissed her hand and went out.\ +\ +Pierre made up his mind not to go to the Rostovs' any more.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XXI\ +\ +After the definite refusal he had received, Petya went to his room and\ +there locked himself in and wept bitterly. When he came in to tea,\ +silent, morose, and with tear-stained face, everybody pretended not to\ +notice anything.\ +\ +Next day the Emperor arrived in Moscow, and several of the Rostovs'\ +domestic serfs begged permission to go to have a look at him. That\ +morning Petya was a long time dressing and arranging his hair and collar\ +to look like a grown-up man. He frowned before his looking glass,\ +gesticulated, shrugged his shoulders, and finally, without saying a word\ +to anyone, took his cap and left the house by the back door, trying to\ +avoid notice. Petya decided to go straight to where the Emperor was and\ +to explain frankly to some gentleman-in-waiting (he imagined the Emperor\ +to be always surrounded by gentlemen-in-waiting) that he, Count Rostov,\ +in spite of his youth wished to serve his country; that youth could be\ +no hindrance to loyalty, and that he was ready to... While dressing,\ +Petya had prepared many fine things he meant to say to the gentleman-in-\ +waiting.\ +\ +It was on the very fact of being so young that Petya counted for success\ +in reaching the Emperor--he even thought how surprised everyone would be\ +at his youthfulness--and yet in the arrangement of his collar and hair\ +and by his sedate deliberate walk he wished to appear a grown-up man.\ +But the farther he went and the more his attention was diverted by the\ +ever-increasing crowds moving toward the Kremlin, the less he remembered\ +to walk with the sedateness and deliberation of a man. As he approached\ +the Kremlin he even began to avoid being crushed and resolutely stuck\ +out his elbows in a menacing way. But within the Trinity Gateway he was\ +so pressed to the wall by people who probably were unaware of the\ +patriotic intentions with which he had come that in spite of all his\ +determination he had to give in, and stop while carriages passed in,\ +rumbling beneath the archway. Beside Petya stood a peasant woman, a\ +footman, two tradesmen, and a discharged soldier. After standing some\ +time in the gateway, Petya tried to move forward in front of the others\ +without waiting for all the carriages to pass, and he began resolutely\ +working his way with his elbows, but the woman just in front of him, who\ +was the first against whom he directed his efforts, angrily shouted at\ +him:\ +\ +"What are you shoving for, young lordling? Don't you see we're all\ +standing still? Then why push?"\ +\ +"Anybody can shove," said the footman, and also began working his elbows\ +to such effect that he pushed Petya into a very filthy corner of the\ +gateway.\ +\ +Petya wiped his perspiring face with his hands and pulled up the damp\ +collar which he had arranged so well at home to seem like a man's.\ +\ +He felt that he no longer looked presentable, and feared that if he were\ +now to approach the gentlemen-in-waiting in that plight he would not be\ +admitted to the Emperor. But it was impossible to smarten oneself up or\ +move to another place, because of the crowd. One of the generals who\ +drove past was an acquaintance of the Rostovs', and Petya thought of\ +asking his help, but came to the conclusion that that would not be a\ +manly thing to do. When the carriages had all passed in, the crowd,\ +carrying Petya with it, streamed forward into the Kremlin Square which\ +was already full of people. There were people not only in the square,\ +but everywhere--on the slopes and on the roofs. As soon as Petya found\ +himself in the square he clearly heard the sound of bells and the joyous\ +voices of the crowd that filled the whole Kremlin.\ +\ +For a while the crowd was less dense, but suddenly all heads were bared,\ +and everyone rushed forward in one direction. Petya was being pressed so\ +that he could scarcely breathe, and everybody shouted, "Hurrah! hurrah!\ +hurrah!" Petya stood on tiptoe and pushed and pinched, but could see\ +nothing except the people about him.\ +\ +All the faces bore the same expression of excitement and enthusiasm. A\ +tradesman's wife standing beside Petya sobbed, and the tears ran down\ +her cheeks.\ +\ +"Father! Angel! Dear one!" she kept repeating, wiping away her tears\ +with her fingers.\ +\ +"Hurrah!" was heard on all sides.\ +\ +For a moment the crowd stood still, but then it made another rush\ +forward.\ +\ +Quite beside himself, Petya, clinching his teeth and rolling his eyes\ +ferociously, pushed forward, elbowing his way and shouting "hurrah!" as\ +if he were prepared that instant to kill himself and everyone else, but\ +on both sides of him other people with similarly ferocious faces pushed\ +forward and everybody shouted "hurrah!"\ +\ +"So this is what the Emperor is!" thought Petya. "No, I can't petition\ +him myself--that would be too bold." But in spite of this he continued\ +to struggle desperately forward, and from between the backs of those in\ +front he caught glimpses of an open space with a strip of red cloth\ +spread out on it; but just then the crowd swayed back--the police in\ +front were pushing back those who had pressed too close to the\ +procession: the Emperor was passing from the palace to the Cathedral of\ +the Assumption--and Petya unexpectedly received such a blow on his side\ +and ribs and was squeezed so hard that suddenly everything grew dim\ +before his eyes and he lost consciousness. When he came to himself, a\ +man of clerical appearance with a tuft of gray hair at the back of his\ +head and wearing a shabby blue cassock--probably a church clerk and\ +chanter--was holding him under the arm with one hand while warding off\ +the pressure of the crowd with the other.\ +\ +"You've crushed the young gentleman!" said the clerk. "What are you up\ +to? Gently!... They've crushed him, crushed him!"\ +\ +The Emperor entered the Cathedral of the Assumption. The crowd spread\ +out again more evenly, and the clerk led Petya--pale and breathless--to\ +the Tsar-cannon. Several people were sorry for Petya, and suddenly a\ +crowd turned toward him and pressed round him. Those who stood nearest\ +him attended to him, unbuttoned his coat, seated him on the raised\ +platform of the cannon, and reproached those others (whoever they might\ +be) who had crushed him.\ +\ +"One might easily get killed that way! What do they mean by it? Killing\ +people! Poor dear, he's as white as a sheet!"--various voices were heard\ +saying.\ +\ +Petya soon came to himself, the color returned to his face, the pain had\ +passed, and at the cost of that temporary unpleasantness he had obtained\ +a place by the cannon from where he hoped to see the Emperor who would\ +be returning that way. Petya no longer thought of presenting his\ +petition. If he could only see the Emperor he would be happy!\ +\ +While the service was proceeding in the Cathedral of the Assumption--it\ +was a combined service of prayer on the occasion of the Emperor's\ +arrival and of thanksgiving for the conclusion of peace with the Turks--\ +the crowd outside spread out and hawkers appeared, selling kvas,\ +gingerbread, and poppyseed sweets (of which Petya was particularly\ +fond), and ordinary conversation could again be heard. A tradesman's\ +wife was showing a rent in her shawl and telling how much the shawl had\ +cost; another was saying that all silk goods had now got dear. The clerk\ +who had rescued Petya was talking to a functionary about the priests who\ +were officiating that day with the bishop. The clerk several times used\ +the word "plenary" (of the service), a word Petya did not understand.\ +Two young citizens were joking with some serf girls who were cracking\ +nuts. All these conversations, especially the joking with the girls,\ +were such as might have had a particular charm for Petya at his age, but\ +they did not interest him now. He sat on his elevation--the pedestal of\ +the cannon--still agitated as before by the thought of the Emperor and\ +by his love for him. The feeling of pain and fear he had experienced\ +when he was being crushed, together with that of rapture, still further\ +intensified his sense of the importance of the occasion.\ +\ +Suddenly the sound of a firing of cannon was heard from the embankment,\ +to celebrate the signing of peace with the Turks, and the crowd rushed\ +impetuously toward the embankment to watch the firing. Petya too would\ +have run there, but the clerk who had taken the young gentleman under\ +his protection stopped him. The firing was still proceeding when\ +officers, generals, and gentlemen-in-waiting came running out of the\ +cathedral, and after them others in a more leisurely manner: caps were\ +again raised, and those who had run to look at the cannon ran back\ +again. At last four men in uniforms and sashes emerged from the\ +cathedral doors. "Hurrah! hurrah!" shouted the crowd again.\ +\ +"Which is he? Which?" asked Petya in a tearful voice, of those around\ +him, but no one answered him, everybody was too excited; and Petya,\ +fixing on one of those four men, whom he could not clearly see for the\ +tears of joy that filled his eyes, concentrated all his enthusiasm on\ +him--though it happened not to be the Emperor--frantically shouted\ +"Hurrah!" and resolved that tomorrow, come what might, he would join the\ +army.\ +\ +The crowd ran after the Emperor, followed him to the palace, and began\ +to disperse. It was already late, and Petya had not eaten anything and\ +was drenched with perspiration, yet he did not go home but stood with\ +that diminishing, but still considerable, crowd before the palace while\ +the Emperor dined--looking in at the palace windows, expecting he knew\ +not what, and envying alike the notables he saw arriving at the entrance\ +to dine with the Emperor and the court footmen who served at table,\ +glimpses of whom could be seen through the windows.\ +\ +While the Emperor was dining, Valuev, looking out of the window, said:\ +\ +"The people are still hoping to see Your Majesty again."\ +\ +The dinner was nearly over, and the Emperor, munching a biscuit, rose\ +and went out onto the balcony. The people, with Petya among them, rushed\ +toward the balcony.\ +\ +"Angel! Dear one! Hurrah! Father!..." cried the crowd, and Petya with\ +it, and again the women and men of weaker mold, Petya among them, wept\ +with joy.\ +\ +A largish piece of the biscuit the Emperor was holding in his hand broke\ +off, fell on the balcony parapet, and then to the ground. A coachman in\ +a jerkin, who stood nearest, sprang forward and snatched it up. Several\ +people in the crowd rushed at the coachman. Seeing this the Emperor had\ +a plateful of biscuits brought him and began throwing them down from the\ +balcony. Petya's eyes grew bloodshot, and still more excited by the\ +danger of being crushed, he rushed at the biscuits. He did not know why,\ +but he had to have a biscuit from the Tsar's hand and he felt that he\ +must not give way. He sprang forward and upset an old woman who was\ +catching at a biscuit; the old woman did not consider herself defeated\ +though she was lying on the ground--she grabbed at some biscuits but her\ +hand did not reach them. Petya pushed her hand away with his knee,\ +seized a biscuit, and as if fearing to be too late, again shouted\ +"Hurrah!" with a voice already hoarse.\ +\ +The Emperor went in, and after that the greater part of the crowd began\ +to disperse.\ +\ +"There! I said if only we waited--and so it was!" was being joyfully\ +said by various people.\ +\ +Happy as Petya was, he felt sad at having to go home knowing that all\ +the enjoyment of that day was over. He did not go straight home from the\ +Kremlin, but called on his friend Obolenski, who was fifteen and was\ +also entering the regiment. On returning home Petya announced resolutely\ +and firmly that if he was not allowed to enter the service he would run\ +away. And next day, Count Ilya Rostov--though he had not yet quite\ +yielded--went to inquire how he could arrange for Petya to serve where\ +there would be least danger.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XXII\ +\ +Two days later, on the fifteenth of July, an immense number of carriages\ +were standing outside the Sloboda Palace.\ +\ +The great halls were full. In the first were the nobility and gentry in\ +their uniforms, in the second bearded merchants in full-skirted coats of\ +blue cloth and wearing medals. In the noblemen's hall there was an\ +incessant movement and buzz of voices. The chief magnates sat on high-\ +backed chairs at a large table under the portrait of the Emperor, but\ +most of the gentry were strolling about the room.\ +\ +All these nobles, whom Pierre met every day at the club or in their own\ +houses, were in uniform--some in that of Catherine's day, others in that\ +of Emperor Paul, others again in the new uniforms of Alexander's time or\ +the ordinary uniform of the nobility, and the general characteristic of\ +being in uniform imparted something strange and fantastic to these\ +diverse and familiar personalities, both old and young. The old men,\ +dim-eyed, toothless, bald, sallow, and bloated, or gaunt and wrinkled,\ +were especially striking. For the most part they sat quietly in their\ +places and were silent, or, if they walked about and talked, attached\ +themselves to someone younger. On all these faces, as on the faces of\ +the crowd Petya had seen in the Square, there was a striking\ +contradiction: the general expectation of a solemn event, and at the\ +same time the everyday interests in a boston card party, Peter the cook,\ +Zinaida Dmitrievna's health, and so on.\ +\ +Pierre was there too, buttoned up since early morning in a nobleman's\ +uniform that had become too tight for him. He was agitated; this\ +extraordinary gathering not only of nobles but also of the merchant-\ +class--les etats generaux (States-General)--evoked in him a whole series\ +of ideas he had long laid aside but which were deeply graven in his\ +soul: thoughts of the Contrat Social and the French Revolution. The\ +words that had struck him in the Emperor's appeal--that the sovereign\ +was coming to the capital for consultation with his people--strengthened\ +this idea. And imagining that in this direction something important\ +which he had long awaited was drawing near, he strolled about watching\ +and listening to conversations, but nowhere finding any confirmation of\ +the ideas that occupied him.\ +\ +The Emperor's manifesto was read, evoking enthusiasm, and then all moved\ +about discussing it. Besides the ordinary topics of conversation, Pierre\ +heard questions of where the marshals of the nobility were to stand when\ +the Emperor entered, when a ball should be given in the Emperor's honor,\ +whether they should group themselves by districts or by whole\ +provinces... and so on; but as soon as the war was touched on, or what\ +the nobility had been convened for, the talk became undecided and\ +indefinite. Then all preferred listening to speaking.\ +\ +A middle-aged man, handsome and virile, in the uniform of a retired\ +naval officer, was speaking in one of the rooms, and a small crowd was\ +pressing round him. Pierre went up to the circle that had formed round\ +the speaker and listened. Count Ilya Rostov, in a military uniform of\ +Catherine's time, was sauntering with a pleasant smile among the crowd,\ +with all of whom he was acquainted. He too approached that group and\ +listened with a kindly smile and nods of approval, as he always did, to\ +what the speaker was saying. The retired naval man was speaking very\ +boldly, as was evident from the expression on the faces of the listeners\ +and from the fact that some people Pierre knew as the meekest and\ +quietest of men walked away disapprovingly or expressed disagreement\ +with him. Pierre pushed his way into the middle of the group, listened,\ +and convinced himself that the man was indeed a liberal, but of views\ +quite different from his own. The naval officer spoke in a particularly\ +sonorous, musical, and aristocratic baritone voice, pleasantly\ +swallowing his r's and generally slurring his consonants: the voice of a\ +man calling out to his servant, "Heah! Bwing me my pipe!" It was\ +indicative of dissipation and the exercise of authority.\ +\ +"What if the Smolensk people have offahd to waise militia for the\ +Empewah? Ah we to take Smolensk as our patte'n? If the noble awistocwacy\ +of the pwovince of Moscow thinks fit, it can show its loyalty to our\ +sov'weign the Empewah in other ways. Have we fo'gotten the waising of\ +the militia in the yeah 'seven? All that did was to enwich the pwiests'\ +sons and thieves and wobbahs...."\ +\ +Count Ilya Rostov smiled blandly and nodded approval.\ +\ +"And was our militia of any use to the Empia? Not at all! It only wuined\ +our farming! Bettah have another conscwiption... o' ou' men will wetu'n\ +neithah soldiers no' peasants, and we'll get only depwavity fwom them.\ +The nobility don't gwudge theah lives--evewy one of us will go and bwing\ +in more wecwuits, and the sov'weign" (that was the way he referred to\ +the Emperor) "need only say the word and we'll all die fo' him!" added\ +the orator with animation.\ +\ +Count Rostov's mouth watered with pleasure and he nudged Pierre, but\ +Pierre wanted to speak himself. He pushed forward, feeling stirred, but\ +not yet sure what stirred him or what he would say. Scarcely had he\ +opened his mouth when one of the senators, a man without a tooth in his\ +head, with a shrewd though angry expression, standing near the first\ +speaker, interrupted him. Evidently accustomed to managing debates and\ +to maintaining an argument, he began in low but distinct tones:\ +\ +"I imagine, sir," said he, mumbling with his toothless mouth, "that we\ +have been summoned here not to discuss whether it's best for the empire\ +at the present moment to adopt conscription or to call out the militia.\ +We have been summoned to reply to the appeal with which our sovereign\ +the Emperor has honored us. But to judge what is best--conscription or\ +the militia--we can leave to the supreme authority...."\ +\ +Pierre suddenly saw an outlet for his excitement. He hardened his heart\ +against the senator who was introducing this set and narrow attitude\ +into the deliberations of the nobility. Pierre stepped forward and\ +interrupted him. He himself did not yet know what he would say, but he\ +began to speak eagerly, occasionally lapsing into French or expressing\ +himself in bookish Russian.\ +\ +"Excuse me, your excellency," he began. (He was well acquainted with the\ +senator, but thought it necessary on this occasion to address him\ +formally.) "Though I don't agree with the gentleman..." (he hesitated:\ +he wished to say, "Mon tres honorable preopinant"--"My very honorable\ +opponent") "with the gentleman... whom I have not the honor of knowing,\ +I suppose that the nobility have been summoned not merely to express\ +their sympathy and enthusiasm but also to consider the means by which we\ +can assist our Fatherland! I imagine," he went on, warming to his\ +subject, "that the Emperor himself would not be satisfied to find in us\ +merely owners of serfs whom we are willing to devote to his service, and\ +chair a canon * we are ready to make of ourselves--and not to obtain\ +from us any co-co-counsel."\ +\ +\ +* "Food for cannon."\ +\ +Many persons withdrew from the circle, noticing the senator's sarcastic\ +smile and the freedom of Pierre's remarks. Only Count Rostov was pleased\ +with them as he had been pleased with those of the naval officer, the\ +senator, and in general with whatever speech he had last heard.\ +\ +"I think that before discussing these questions," Pierre continued, "we\ +should ask the Emperor--most respectfully ask His Majesty--to let us\ +know the number of our troops and the position in which our army and our\ +forces now are, and then..."\ +\ +But scarcely had Pierre uttered these words before he was attacked from\ +three sides. The most vigorous attack came from an old acquaintance, a\ +boston player who had always been well disposed toward him, Stepan\ +Stepanovich Adraksin. Adraksin was in uniform, and whether as a result\ +of the uniform or from some other cause Pierre saw before him quite a\ +different man. With a sudden expression of malevolence on his aged face,\ +Adraksin shouted at Pierre:\ +\ +"In the first place, I tell you we have no right to question the Emperor\ +about that, and secondly, if the Russian nobility had that right, the\ +Emperor could not answer such a question. The troops are moved according\ +to the enemy's movements and the number of men increases and\ +decreases..."\ +\ +Another voice, that of a nobleman of medium height and about forty years\ +of age, whom Pierre had formerly met at the gypsies' and knew as a bad\ +cardplayer, and who, also transformed by his uniform, came up to Pierre,\ +interrupted Adraksin.\ +\ +"Yes, and this is not a time for discussing," he continued, "but for\ +acting: there is war in Russia! The enemy is advancing to destroy\ +Russia, to desecrate the tombs of our fathers, to carry off our wives\ +and children." The nobleman smote his breast. "We will all arise, every\ +one of us will go, for our father the Tsar!" he shouted, rolling his\ +bloodshot eyes. Several approving voices were heard in the crowd. "We\ +are Russians and will not grudge our blood in defense of our faith, the\ +throne, and the Fatherland! We must cease raving if we are sons of our\ +Fatherland! We will show Europe how Russia rises to the defense of\ +Russia!"\ +\ +Pierre wished to reply, but could not get in a word. He felt that his\ +words, apart from what meaning they conveyed, were less audible than the\ +sound of his opponent's voice.\ +\ +Count Rostov at the back of the crowd was expressing approval; several\ +persons, briskly turning a shoulder to the orator at the end of a\ +phrase, said:\ +\ +"That's right, quite right! Just so!"\ +\ +Pierre wished to say that he was ready to sacrifice his money, his\ +serfs, or himself, only one ought to know the state of affairs in order\ +to be able to improve it, but he was unable to speak. Many voices\ +shouted and talked at the same time, so that Count Rostov had not time\ +to signify his approval of them all, and the group increased, dispersed,\ +re-formed, and then moved with a hum of talk into the largest hall and\ +to the big table. Not only was Pierre's attempt to speak unsuccessful,\ +but he was rudely interrupted, pushed aside, and people turned away from\ +him as from a common enemy. This happened not because they were\ +displeased by the substance of his speech, which had even been forgotten\ +after the many subsequent speeches, but to animate it the crowd needed a\ +tangible object to love and a tangible object to hate. Pierre became the\ +latter. Many other orators spoke after the excited nobleman, and all in\ +the same tone. Many spoke eloquently and with originality.\ +\ +Glinka, the editor of the Russian Messenger, who was recognized (cries\ +of "author! author!" were heard in the crowd), said that "hell must be\ +repulsed by hell," and that he had seen a child smiling at lightning\ +flashes and thunderclaps, but "we will not be that child."\ +\ +"Yes, yes, at thunderclaps!" was repeated approvingly in the back rows\ +of the crowd.\ +\ +The crowd drew up to the large table, at which sat gray-haired or bald\ +seventy-year-old magnates, uniformed and besashed almost all of whom\ +Pierre had seen in their own homes with their buffoons, or playing\ +boston at the clubs. With an incessant hum of voices the crowd advanced\ +to the table. Pressed by the throng against the high backs of the\ +chairs, the orators spoke one after another and sometimes two together.\ +Those standing behind noticed what a speaker omitted to say and hastened\ +to supply it. Others in that heat and crush racked their brains to find\ +some thought and hastened to utter it. The old magnates, whom Pierre\ +knew, sat and turned to look first at one and then at another, and their\ +faces for the most part only expressed the fact that they found it very\ +hot. Pierre, however, felt excited, and the general desire to show that\ +they were ready to go to all lengths--which found expression in the\ +tones and looks more than in the substance of the speeches--infected him\ +too. He did not renounce his opinions, but felt himself in some way to\ +blame and wished to justify himself.\ +\ +"I only said that it would be more to the purpose to make sacrifices\ +when we know what is needed!" said he, trying to be heard above the\ +other voices.\ +\ +One of the old men nearest to him looked round, but his attention was\ +immediately diverted by an exclamation at the other side of the table.\ +\ +"Yes, Moscow will be surrendered! She will be our expiation!" shouted\ +one man.\ +\ +"He is the enemy of mankind!" cried another. "Allow me to speak...."\ +"Gentlemen, you are crushing me!..."\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XXIII\ +\ +At that moment Count Rostopchin with his protruding chin and alert eyes,\ +wearing the uniform of a general with sash over his shoulder, entered\ +the room, stepping briskly to the front of the crowd of gentry.\ +\ +"Our sovereign the Emperor will be here in a moment," said Rostopchin.\ +"I am straight from the palace. Seeing the position we are in, I think\ +there is little need for discussion. The Emperor has deigned to summon\ +us and the merchants. Millions will pour forth from there"--he pointed\ +to the merchants' hall--"but our business is to supply men and not spare\ +ourselves... That is the least we can do!"\ +\ +A conference took place confined to the magnates sitting at the table.\ +The whole consultation passed more than quietly. After all the preceding\ +noise the sound of their old voices saying one after another, "I agree,"\ +or for variety, "I too am of that opinion," and so on had even a\ +mournful effect.\ +\ +The secretary was told to write down the resolution of the Moscow\ +nobility and gentry, that they would furnish ten men, fully equipped,\ +out of every thousand serfs, as the Smolensk gentry had done. Their\ +chairs made a scraping noise as the gentlemen who had conferred rose\ +with apparent relief, and began walking up and down, arm in arm, to\ +stretch their legs and converse in couples.\ +\ +"The Emperor! The Emperor!" a sudden cry resounded through the halls and\ +the whole throng hurried to the entrance.\ +\ +The Emperor entered the hall through a broad path between two lines of\ +nobles. Every face expressed respectful, awe-struck curiosity. Pierre\ +stood rather far off and could not hear all that the Emperor said. From\ +what he did hear he understood that the Emperor spoke of the danger\ +threatening the empire and of the hopes he placed on the Moscow\ +nobility. He was answered by a voice which informed him of the\ +resolution just arrived at.\ +\ +"Gentlemen!" said the Emperor with a quivering voice.\ +\ +There was a rustling among the crowd and it again subsided, so that\ +Pierre distinctly heard the pleasantly human voice of the Emperor saying\ +with emotion:\ +\ +"I never doubted the devotion of the Russian nobles, but today it has\ +surpassed my expectations. I thank you in the name of the Fatherland!\ +Gentlemen, let us act! Time is most precious..."\ +\ +The Emperor ceased speaking, the crowd began pressing round him, and\ +rapturous exclamations were heard from all sides.\ +\ +"Yes, most precious... a royal word," said Count Rostov, with a sob. He\ +stood at the back, and, though he had heard hardly anything, understood\ +everything in his own way.\ +\ +From the hall of the nobility the Emperor went to that of the merchants.\ +There he remained about ten minutes. Pierre was among those who saw him\ +come out from the merchants' hall with tears of emotion in his eyes. As\ +became known later, he had scarcely begun to address the merchants\ +before tears gushed from his eyes and he concluded in a trembling voice.\ +When Pierre saw the Emperor he was coming out accompanied by two\ +merchants, one of whom Pierre knew, a fat otkupshchik. The other was the\ +mayor, a man with a thin sallow face and narrow beard. Both were\ +weeping. Tears filled the thin man's eyes, and the fat otkupshchik\ +sobbed outright like a child and kept repeating:\ +\ +"Our lives and property--take them, Your Majesty!"\ +\ +Pierre's one feeling at the moment was a desire to show that he was\ +ready to go all lengths and was prepared to sacrifice everything. He now\ +felt ashamed of his speech with its constitutional tendency and sought\ +an opportunity of effacing it. Having heard that Count Mamonov was\ +furnishing a regiment, Bezukhov at once informed Rostopchin that he\ +would give a thousand men and their maintenance.\ +\ +Old Rostov could not tell his wife of what had passed without tears, and\ +at once consented to Petya's request and went himself to enter his name.\ +\ +Next day the Emperor left Moscow. The assembled nobles all took off\ +their uniforms and settled down again in their homes and clubs, and not\ +without some groans gave orders to their stewards about the enrollment,\ +feeling amazed themselves at what they had done.\ +\ +BOOK TEN: 1812\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER I\ +\ +Napoleon began the war with Russia because he could not resist going to\ +Dresden, could not help having his head turned by the homage he\ +received, could not help donning a Polish uniform and yielding to the\ +stimulating influence of a June morning, and could not refrain from\ +bursts of anger in the presence of Kurakin and then of Balashev.\ +\ +Alexander refused negotiations because he felt himself to be personally\ +insulted. Barclay de Tolly tried to command the army in the best way,\ +because he wished to fulfill his duty and earn fame as a great\ +commander. Rostov charged the French because he could not restrain his\ +wish for a gallop across a level field; and in the same way the\ +innumerable people who took part in the war acted in accord with their\ +personal characteristics, habits, circumstances, and aims. They were\ +moved by fear or vanity, rejoiced or were indignant, reasoned, imagining\ +that they knew what they were doing and did it of their own free will,\ +but they all were involuntary tools of history, carrying on a work\ +concealed from them but comprehensible to us. Such is the inevitable\ +fate of men of action, and the higher they stand in the social hierarchy\ +the less are they free.\ +\ +The actors of 1812 have long since left the stage, their personal\ +interests have vanished leaving no trace, and nothing remains of that\ +time but its historic results.\ +\ +Providence compelled all these men, striving to attain personal aims, to\ +further the accomplishment of a stupendous result no one of them at all\ +expected--neither Napoleon, nor Alexander, nor still less any of those\ +who did the actual fighting.\ +\ +The cause of the destruction of the French army in 1812 is clear to us\ +now. No one will deny that that cause was, on the one hand, its advance\ +into the heart of Russia late in the season without any preparation for\ +a winter campaign and, on the other, the character given to the war by\ +the burning of Russian towns and the hatred of the foe this aroused\ +among the Russian people. But no one at the time foresaw (what now seems\ +so evident) that this was the only way an army of eight hundred thousand\ +men--the best in the world and led by the best general--could be\ +destroyed in conflict with a raw army of half its numerical strength,\ +and led by inexperienced commanders as the Russian army was. Not only\ +did no one see this, but on the Russian side every effort was made to\ +hinder the only thing that could save Russia, while on the French side,\ +despite Napoleon's experience and so-called military genius, every\ +effort was directed to pushing on to Moscow at the end of the summer,\ +that is, to doing the very thing that was bound to lead to destruction.\ +\ +In historical works on the year 1812 French writers are very fond of\ +saying that Napoleon felt the danger of extending his line, that he\ +sought a battle and that his marshals advised him to stop at Smolensk,\ +and of making similar statements to show that the danger of the campaign\ +was even then understood. Russian authors are still fonder of telling us\ +that from the commencement of the campaign a Scythian war plan was\ +adopted to lure Napoleon into the depths of Russia, and this plan some\ +of them attribute to Pfuel, others to a certain Frenchman, others to\ +Toll, and others again to Alexander himself--pointing to notes,\ +projects, and letters which contain hints of such a line of action. But\ +all these hints at what happened, both from the French side and the\ +Russian, are advanced only because they fit in with the event. Had that\ +event not occurred these hints would have been forgotten, as we have\ +forgotten the thousands and millions of hints and expectations to the\ +contrary which were current then but have now been forgotten because the\ +event falsified them. There are always so many conjectures as to the\ +issue of any event that however it may end there will always be people\ +to say: "I said then that it would be so," quite forgetting that amid\ +their innumerable conjectures many were to quite the contrary effect.\ +\ +Conjectures as to Napoleon's awareness of the danger of extending his\ +line, and (on the Russian side) as to luring the enemy into the depths\ +of Russia, are evidently of that kind, and only by much straining can\ +historians attribute such conceptions to Napoleon and his marshals, or\ +such plans to the Russian commanders. All the facts are in flat\ +contradiction to such conjectures. During the whole period of the war\ +not only was there no wish on the Russian side to draw the French into\ +the heart of the country, but from their first entry into Russia\ +everything was done to stop them. And not only was Napoleon not afraid\ +to extend his line, but he welcomed every step forward as a triumph and\ +did not seek battle as eagerly as in former campaigns, but very lazily.\ +\ +At the very beginning of the war our armies were divided, and our sole\ +aim was to unite them, though uniting the armies was no advantage if we\ +meant to retire and lure the enemy into the depths of the country. Our\ +Emperor joined the army to encourage it to defend every inch of Russian\ +soil and not to retreat. The enormous Drissa camp was formed on Pfuel's\ +plan, and there was no intention of retiring farther. The Emperor\ +reproached the commanders in chief for every step they retired. He could\ +not bear the idea of letting the enemy even reach Smolensk, still less\ +could he contemplate the burning of Moscow, and when our armies did\ +unite he was displeased that Smolensk was abandoned and burned without a\ +general engagement having been fought under its walls.\ +\ +So thought the Emperor, and the Russian commanders and people were still\ +more provoked at the thought that our forces were retreating into the\ +depths of the country.\ +\ +Napoleon having cut our armies apart advanced far into the country and\ +missed several chances of forcing an engagement. In August he was at\ +Smolensk and thought only of how to advance farther, though as we now\ +see that advance was evidently ruinous to him.\ +\ +The facts clearly show that Napoleon did not foresee the danger of the\ +advance on Moscow, nor did Alexander and the Russian commanders then\ +think of luring Napoleon on, but quite the contrary. The luring of\ +Napoleon into the depths of the country was not the result of any plan,\ +for no one believed it to be possible; it resulted from a most complex\ +interplay of intrigues, aims, and wishes among those who took part in\ +the war and had no perception whatever of the inevitable, or of the one\ +way of saving Russia. Everything came about fortuitously. The armies\ +were divided at the commencement of the campaign. We tried to unite\ +them, with the evident intention of giving battle and checking the\ +enemy's advance, and by this effort to unite them while avoiding battle\ +with a much stronger enemy, and necessarily withdrawing the armies at an\ +acute angle--we led the French on to Smolensk. But we withdrew at an\ +acute angle not only because the French advanced between our two armies;\ +the angle became still more acute and we withdrew still farther, because\ +Barclay de Tolly was an unpopular foreigner disliked by Bagration (who\ +would come under his command), and Bagration--being in command of the\ +second army--tried to postpone joining up and coming under Barclay's\ +command as long as he could. Bagration was slow in effecting the\ +junction--though that was the chief aim of all at headquarters--because,\ +as he alleged, he exposed his army to danger on this march, and it was\ +best for him to retire more to the left and more to the south, worrying\ +the enemy from flank and rear and securing from the Ukraine recruits for\ +his army; and it looks as if he planned this in order not to come under\ +the command of the detested foreigner Barclay, whose rank was inferior\ +to his own.\ +\ +The Emperor was with the army to encourage it, but his presence and\ +ignorance of what steps to take, and the enormous number of advisers and\ +plans, destroyed the first army's energy and it retired.\ +\ +The intention was to make a stand at the Drissa camp, but Paulucci,\ +aiming at becoming commander-in-chief, unexpectedly employed his energy\ +to influence Alexander, and Pfuel's whole plan was abandoned and the\ +command entrusted to Barclay. But as Barclay did not inspire confidence\ +his power was limited. The armies were divided, there was no unity of\ +command, and Barclay was unpopular; but from this confusion, division,\ +and the unpopularity of the foreign commander-in-chief, there resulted\ +on the one hand indecision and the avoidance of a battle (which we could\ +not have refrained from had the armies been united and had someone else,\ +instead of Barclay, been in command) and on the other an ever-increasing\ +indignation against the foreigners and an increase in patriotic zeal.\ +\ +At last the Emperor left the army, and as the most convenient and indeed\ +the only pretext for his departure it was decided that it was necessary\ +for him to inspire the people in the capitals and arouse the nation in\ +general to a patriotic war. And by this visit of the Emperor to Moscow\ +the strength of the Russian army was trebled.\ +\ +He left in order not to obstruct the commander-in-chief's undivided\ +control of the army, and hoping that more decisive action would then be\ +taken, but the command of the armies became still more confused and\ +enfeebled. Bennigsen, the Tsarevich, and a swarm of adjutants general\ +remained with the army to keep the commander-in-chief under observation\ +and arouse his energy, and Barclay, feeling less free than ever under\ +the observation of all these "eyes of the Emperor," became still more\ +cautious of undertaking any decisive action and avoided giving battle.\ +\ +Barclay stood for caution. The Tsarevich hinted at treachery and\ +demanded a general engagement. Lubomirski, Bronnitski, Wlocki, and the\ +others of that group stirred up so much trouble that Barclay, under\ +pretext of sending papers to the Emperor, dispatched these Polish\ +adjutants general to Petersburg and plunged into an open struggle with\ +Bennigsen and the Tsarevich.\ +\ +At Smolensk the armies at last reunited, much as Bagration disliked it.\ +\ +Bagration drove up in a carriage to the house occupied by Barclay.\ +Barclay donned his sash and came out to meet and report to his senior\ +officer Bagration.\ +\ +Despite his seniority in rank Bagration, in this contest of magnanimity,\ +took his orders from Barclay, but, having submitted, agreed with him\ +less than ever. By the Emperor's orders Bagration reported direct to\ +him. He wrote to Arakcheev, the Emperor's confidant: "It must be as my\ +sovereign pleases, but I cannot work with the Minister (meaning\ +Barclay). For God's sake send me somewhere else if only in command of a\ +regiment. I cannot stand it here. Headquarters are so full of Germans\ +that a Russian cannot exist and there is no sense in anything. I thought\ +I was really serving my sovereign and the Fatherland, but it turns out\ +that I am serving Barclay. I confess I do not want to."\ +\ +The swarm of Bronnitskis and Wintzingerodes and their like still further\ +embittered the relations between the commanders in chief, and even less\ +unity resulted. Preparations were made to fight the French before\ +Smolensk. A general was sent to survey the position. This general,\ +hating Barclay, rode to visit a friend of his own, a corps commander,\ +and, having spent the day with him, returned to Barclay and condemned,\ +as unsuitable from every point of view, the battleground he had not\ +seen.\ +\ +While disputes and intrigues were going on about the future field of\ +battle, and while we were looking for the French--having lost touch with\ +them--the French stumbled upon Neverovski's division and reached the\ +walls of Smolensk.\ +\ +It was necessary to fight an unexpected battle at Smolensk to save our\ +lines of communication. The battle was fought and thousands were killed\ +on both sides.\ +\ +Smolensk was abandoned contrary to the wishes of the Emperor and of the\ +whole people. But Smolensk was burned by its own inhabitants-who had\ +been misled by their governor. And these ruined inhabitants, setting an\ +example to other Russians, went to Moscow thinking only of their own\ +losses but kindling hatred of the foe. Napoleon advanced farther and we\ +retired, thus arriving at the very result which caused his destruction.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER II\ +\ +The day after his son had left, Prince Nicholas sent for Princess Mary\ +to come to his study.\ +\ +"Well? Are you satisfied now?" said he. "You've made me quarrel with my\ +son! Satisfied, are you? That's all you wanted! Satisfied?... It hurts\ +me, it hurts. I'm old and weak and this is what you wanted. Well then,\ +gloat over it! Gloat over it!"\ +\ +After that Princess Mary did not see her father for a whole week. He was\ +ill and did not leave his study.\ +\ +Princess Mary noticed to her surprise that during this illness the old\ +prince not only excluded her from his room, but did not admit\ +Mademoiselle Bourienne either. Tikhon alone attended him.\ +\ +At the end of the week the prince reappeared and resumed his former way\ +of life, devoting himself with special activity to building operations\ +and the arrangement of the gardens and completely breaking off his\ +relations with Mademoiselle Bourienne. His looks and cold tone to his\ +daughter seemed to say: "There, you see? You plotted against me, you\ +lied to Prince Andrew about my relations with that Frenchwoman and made\ +me quarrel with him, but you see I need neither her nor you!"\ +\ +Princess Mary spent half of every day with little Nicholas, watching his\ +lessons, teaching him Russian and music herself, and talking to\ +Dessalles; the rest of the day she spent over her books, with her old\ +nurse, or with "God's folk" who sometimes came by the back door to see\ +her.\ +\ +Of the war Princess Mary thought as women do think about wars. She\ +feared for her brother who was in it, was horrified by and amazed at the\ +strange cruelty that impels men to kill one another, but she did not\ +understand the significance of this war, which seemed to her like all\ +previous wars. She did not realize the significance of this war, though\ +Dessalles with whom she constantly conversed was passionately interested\ +in its progress and tried to explain his own conception of it to her,\ +and though the "God's folk" who came to see her reported, in their own\ +way, the rumors current among the people of an invasion by Antichrist,\ +and though Julie (now Princess Drubetskaya), who had resumed\ +correspondence with her, wrote patriotic letters from Moscow.\ +\ +"I write you in Russian, my good friend," wrote Julie in her Frenchified\ +Russian, "because I have a detestation for all the French, and the same\ +for their language which I cannot support to hear spoken.... We in\ +Moscow are elated by enthusiasm for our adored Emperor.\ +\ +"My poor husband is enduring pains and hunger in Jewish taverns, but the\ +news which I have inspires me yet more.\ +\ +"You heard probably of the heroic exploit of Raevski, embracing his two\ +sons and saying: 'I will perish with them but we will not be shaken!'\ +And truly though the enemy was twice stronger than we, we were\ +unshakable. We pass the time as we can, but in war as in war! The\ +princesses Aline and Sophie sit whole days with me, and we, unhappy\ +widows of live men, make beautiful conversations over our 'charpie',\ +only you, my friend, are missing..." and so on.\ +\ +The chief reason Princess Mary did not realize the full significance of\ +this war was that the old prince never spoke of it, did not recognize\ +it, and laughed at Dessalles when he mentioned it at dinner. The\ +prince's tone was so calm and confident that Princess Mary\ +unhesitatingly believed him.\ +\ +All that July the old prince was exceedingly active and even animated.\ +He planned another garden and began a new building for the domestic\ +serfs. The only thing that made Princess Mary anxious about him was that\ +he slept very little and, instead of sleeping in his study as usual,\ +changed his sleeping place every day. One day he would order his camp\ +bed to be set up in the glass gallery, another day he remained on the\ +couch or on the lounge chair in the drawing room and dozed there without\ +undressing, while--instead of Mademoiselle Bourienne--a serf boy read to\ +him. Then again he would spend a night in the dining room.\ +\ +On August 1, a second letter was received from Prince Andrew. In his\ +first letter which came soon after he had left home, Prince Andrew had\ +dutifully asked his father's forgiveness for what he had allowed himself\ +to say and begged to be restored to his favor. To this letter the old\ +prince had replied affectionately, and from that time had kept the\ +Frenchwoman at a distance. Prince Andrew's second letter, written near\ +Vitebsk after the French had occupied that town, gave a brief account of\ +the whole campaign, enclosed for them a plan he had drawn and forecasts\ +as to the further progress of the war. In this letter Prince Andrew\ +pointed out to his father the danger of staying at Bald Hills, so near\ +the theater of war and on the army's direct line of march, and advised\ +him to move to Moscow.\ +\ +At dinner that day, on Dessalles' mentioning that the French were said\ +to have already entered Vitebsk, the old prince remembered his son's\ +letter.\ +\ +"There was a letter from Prince Andrew today," he said to Princess Mary-\ +-"Haven't you read it?"\ +\ +"No, Father," she replied in a frightened voice.\ +\ +She could not have read the letter as she did not even know it had\ +arrived.\ +\ +"He writes about this war," said the prince, with the ironic smile that\ +had become habitual to him in speaking of the present war.\ +\ +"That must be very interesting," said Dessalles. "Prince Andrew is in a\ +position to know..."\ +\ +"Oh, very interesting!" said Mademoiselle Bourienne.\ +\ +"Go and get it for me," said the old prince to Mademoiselle Bourienne.\ +"You know--under the paperweight on the little table."\ +\ +Mademoiselle Bourienne jumped up eagerly.\ +\ +"No, don't!" he exclaimed with a frown. "You go, Michael Ivanovich."\ +\ +Michael Ivanovich rose and went to the study. But as soon as he had left\ +the room the old prince, looking uneasily round, threw down his napkin\ +and went himself.\ +\ +"They can't do anything... always make some muddle," he muttered.\ +\ +While he was away Princess Mary, Dessalles, Mademoiselle Bourienne, and\ +even little Nicholas exchanged looks in silence. The old prince returned\ +with quick steps, accompanied by Michael Ivanovich, bringing the letter\ +and a plan. These he put down beside him--not letting anyone read them\ +at dinner.\ +\ +On moving to the drawing room he handed the letter to Princess Mary and,\ +spreading out before him the plan of the new building and fixing his\ +eyes upon it, told her to read the letter aloud. When she had done so\ +Princess Mary looked inquiringly at her father. He was examining the\ +plan, evidently engrossed in his own ideas.\ +\ +"What do you think of it, Prince?" Dessalles ventured to ask.\ +\ +"I? I?..." said the prince as if unpleasantly awakened, and not taking\ +his eyes from the plan of the building.\ +\ +"Very possibly the theater of war will move so near to us that..."\ +\ +"Ha ha ha! The theater of war!" said the prince. "I have said and still\ +say that the theater of war is Poland and the enemy will never get\ +beyond the Niemen."\ +\ +Dessalles looked in amazement at the prince, who was talking of the\ +Niemen when the enemy was already at the Dnieper, but Princess Mary,\ +forgetting the geographical position of the Niemen, thought that what\ +her father was saying was correct.\ +\ +"When the snow melts they'll sink in the Polish swamps. Only they could\ +fail to see it," the prince continued, evidently thinking of the\ +campaign of 1807 which seemed to him so recent. "Bennigsen should have\ +advanced into Prussia sooner, then things would have taken a different\ +turn..."\ +\ +"But, Prince," Dessalles began timidly, "the letter mentions\ +Vitebsk...."\ +\ +"Ah, the letter? Yes..." replied the prince peevishly. "Yes... yes..."\ +His face suddenly took on a morose expression. He paused. "Yes, he\ +writes that the French were beaten at... at... what river is it?"\ +\ +Dessalles dropped his eyes.\ +\ +"The prince says nothing about that," he remarked gently.\ +\ +"Doesn't he? But I didn't invent it myself."\ +\ +No one spoke for a long time.\ +\ +"Yes... yes... Well, Michael Ivanovich," he suddenly went on, raising\ +his head and pointing to the plan of the building, "tell me how you mean\ +to alter it...."\ +\ +Michael Ivanovich went up to the plan, and the prince after speaking to\ +him about the building looked angrily at Princess Mary and Dessalles and\ +went to his own room.\ +\ +Princess Mary saw Dessalles' embarrassed and astonished look fixed on\ +her father, noticed his silence, and was struck by the fact that her\ +father had forgotten his son's letter on the drawing-room table; but she\ +was not only afraid to speak of it and ask Dessalles the reason of his\ +confusion and silence, but was afraid even to think about it.\ +\ +In the evening Michael Ivanovich, sent by the prince, came to Princess\ +Mary for Prince Andrew's letter which had been forgotten in the drawing\ +room. She gave it to him and, unpleasant as it was to her to do so,\ +ventured to ask him what her father was doing.\ +\ +"Always busy," replied Michael Ivanovich with a respectfully ironic\ +smile which caused Princess Mary to turn pale. "He's worrying very much\ +about the new building. He has been reading a little, but now"--Michael\ +Ivanovich went on, lowering his voice--"now he's at his desk, busy with\ +his will, I expect." (One of the prince's favorite occupations of late\ +had been the preparation of some papers he meant to leave at his death\ +and which he called his "will.")\ +\ +"And Alpatych is being sent to Smolensk?" asked Princess Mary.\ +\ +"Oh, yes, he has been waiting to start for some time."\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER III\ +\ +When Michael Ivanovich returned to the study with the letter, the old\ +prince, with spectacles on and a shade over his eyes, was sitting at his\ +open bureau with screened candles, holding a paper in his outstretched\ +hand, and in a somewhat dramatic attitude was reading his manuscript--\ +his "Remarks" as he termed it--which was to be transmitted to the\ +Emperor after his death.\ +\ +When Michael Ivanovich went in there were tears in the prince's eyes\ +evoked by the memory of the time when the paper he was now reading had\ +been written. He took the letter from Michael Ivanovich's hand, put it\ +in his pocket, folded up his papers, and called in Alpatych who had long\ +been waiting.\ +\ +The prince had a list of things to be bought in Smolensk and, walking up\ +and down the room past Alpatych who stood by the door, he gave his\ +instructions.\ +\ +"First, notepaper--do you hear? Eight quires, like this sample, gilt-\ +edged... it must be exactly like the sample. Varnish, sealing wax, as in\ +Michael Ivanovich's list."\ +\ +He paced up and down for a while and glanced at his notes.\ +\ +"Then hand to the governor in person a letter about the deed."\ +\ +Next, bolts for the doors of the new building were wanted and had to be\ +of a special shape the prince had himself designed, and a leather case\ +had to be ordered to keep the "will" in.\ +\ +The instructions to Alpatych took over two hours and still the prince\ +did not let him go. He sat down, sank into thought, closed his eyes, and\ +dozed off. Alpatych made a slight movement.\ +\ +"Well, go, go! If anything more is wanted I'll send after you."\ +\ +Alpatych went out. The prince again went to his bureau, glanced into it,\ +fingered his papers, closed the bureau again, and sat down at the table\ +to write to the governor.\ +\ +It was already late when he rose after sealing the letter. He wished to\ +sleep, but he knew he would not be able to and that most depressing\ +thoughts came to him in bed. So he called Tikhon and went through the\ +rooms with him to show him where to set up the bed for that night.\ +\ +He went about looking at every corner. Every place seemed\ +unsatisfactory, but worst of all was his customary couch in the study.\ +That couch was dreadful to him, probably because of the oppressive\ +thoughts he had had when lying there. It was unsatisfactory everywhere,\ +but the corner behind the piano in the sitting room was better than\ +other places: he had never slept there yet.\ +\ +With the help of a footman Tikhon brought in the bedstead and began\ +putting it up.\ +\ +"That's not right! That's not right!" cried the prince, and himself\ +pushed it a few inches from the corner and then closer in again.\ +\ +"Well, at last I've finished, now I'll rest," thought the prince, and\ +let Tikhon undress him.\ +\ +Frowning with vexation at the effort necessary to divest himself of his\ +coat and trousers, the prince undressed, sat down heavily on the bed,\ +and appeared to be meditating as he looked contemptuously at his\ +withered yellow legs. He was not meditating, but only deferring the\ +moment of making the effort to lift those legs up and turn over on the\ +bed. "Ugh, how hard it is! Oh, that this toil might end and you would\ +release me!" thought he. Pressing his lips together he made that effort\ +for the twenty-thousandth time and lay down. But hardly had he done so\ +before he felt the bed rocking backwards and forwards beneath him as if\ +it were breathing heavily and jolting. This happened to him almost every\ +night. He opened his eyes as they were closing.\ +\ +"No peace, damn them!" he muttered, angry he knew not with whom. "Ah\ +yes, there was something else important, very important, that I was\ +keeping till I should be in bed. The bolts? No, I told him about them.\ +No, it was something, something in the drawing room. Princess Mary\ +talked some nonsense. Dessalles, that fool, said something. Something in\ +my pocket--can't remember..."\ +\ +"Tikhon, what did we talk about at dinner?"\ +\ +"About Prince Michael..."\ +\ +"Be quiet, quiet!" The prince slapped his hand on the table. "Yes, I\ +know, Prince Andrew's letter! Princess Mary read it. Dessalles said\ +something about Vitebsk. Now I'll read it."\ +\ +He had the letter taken from his pocket and the table--on which stood a\ +glass of lemonade and a spiral wax candle--moved close to the bed, and\ +putting on his spectacles he began reading. Only now in the stillness of\ +the night, reading it by the faint light under the green shade, did he\ +grasp its meaning for a moment.\ +\ +"The French at Vitebsk, in four days' march they may be at Smolensk;\ +perhaps are already there! Tikhon!" Tikhon jumped up. "No, no, I don't\ +want anything!" he shouted.\ +\ +He put the letter under the candlestick and closed his eyes. And there\ +rose before him the Danube at bright noonday: reeds, the Russian camp,\ +and himself a young general without a wrinkle on his ruddy face,\ +vigorous and alert, entering Potemkin's gaily colored tent, and a\ +burning sense of jealousy of "the favorite" agitated him now as strongly\ +as it had done then. He recalled all the words spoken at that first\ +meeting with Potemkin. And he saw before him a plump, rather sallow-\ +faced, short, stout woman, the Empress Mother, with her smile and her\ +words at her first gracious reception of him, and then that same face on\ +the catafalque, and the encounter he had with Zubov over her coffin\ +about his right to kiss her hand.\ +\ +"Oh, quicker, quicker! To get back to that time and have done with all\ +the present! Quicker, quicker--and that they should leave me in peace!"\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER IV\ +\ +Bald Hills, Prince Nicholas Bolkonski's estate, lay forty miles east\ +from Smolensk and two miles from the main road to Moscow.\ +\ +The same evening that the prince gave his instructions to Alpatych,\ +Dessalles, having asked to see Princess Mary, told her that, as the\ +prince was not very well and was taking no steps to secure his safety,\ +though from Prince Andrew's letter it was evident that to remain at Bald\ +Hills might be dangerous, he respectfully advised her to send a letter\ +by Alpatych to the Provincial Governor at Smolensk, asking him to let\ +her know the state of affairs and the extent of the danger to which Bald\ +Hills was exposed. Dessalles wrote this letter to the Governor for\ +Princess Mary, she signed it, and it was given to Alpatych with\ +instructions to hand it to the Governor and to come back as quickly as\ +possible if there was danger.\ +\ +Having received all his orders Alpatych, wearing a white beaver hat--a\ +present from the prince--and carrying a stick as the prince did, went\ +out accompanied by his family. Three well-fed roans stood ready\ +harnessed to a small conveyance with a leather hood.\ +\ +The larger bell was muffled and the little bells on the harness stuffed\ +with paper. The prince allowed no one at Bald Hills to drive with\ +ringing bells; but on a long journey Alpatych liked to have them. His\ +satellites--the senior clerk, a countinghouse clerk, a scullery maid, a\ +cook, two old women, a little pageboy, the coachman, and various\ +domestic serfs--were seeing him off.\ +\ +His daughter placed chintz-covered down cushions for him to sit on and\ +behind his back. His old sister-in-law popped in a small bundle, and one\ +of the coachmen helped him into the vehicle.\ +\ +"There! There! Women's fuss! Women, women!" said Alpatych, puffing and\ +speaking rapidly just as the prince did, and he climbed into the trap.\ +\ +After giving the clerk orders about the work to be done, Alpatych, not\ +trying to imitate the prince now, lifted the hat from his bald head and\ +crossed himself three times.\ +\ +"If there is anything... come back, Yakov Alpatych! For Christ's sake\ +think of us!" cried his wife, referring to the rumors of war and the\ +enemy.\ +\ +"Women, women! Women's fuss!" muttered Alpatych to himself and started\ +on his journey, looking round at the fields of yellow rye and the still-\ +green, thickly growing oats, and at other quite black fields just being\ +plowed a second time.\ +\ +As he went along he looked with pleasure at the year's splendid crop of\ +corn, scrutinized the strips of ryefield which here and there were\ +already being reaped, made his calculations as to the sowing and the\ +harvest, and asked himself whether he had not forgotten any of the\ +prince's orders.\ +\ +Having baited the horses twice on the way, he arrived at the town toward\ +evening on the fourth of August.\ +\ +Alpatych kept meeting and overtaking baggage trains and troops on the\ +road. As he approached Smolensk he heard the sounds of distant firing,\ +but these did not impress him. What struck him most was the sight of a\ +splendid field of oats in which a camp had been pitched and which was\ +being mown down by the soldiers, evidently for fodder. This fact\ +impressed Alpatych, but in thinking about his own business he soon\ +forgot it.\ +\ +All the interests of his life for more than thirty years had been\ +bounded by the will of the prince, and he never went beyond that limit.\ +Everything not connected with the execution of the prince's orders did\ +not interest and did not even exist for Alpatych.\ +\ +On reaching Smolensk on the evening of the fourth of August he put up in\ +the Gachina suburb across the Dnieper, at the inn kept by Ferapontov,\ +where he had been in the habit of putting up for the last thirty years.\ +Some thirty years ago Ferapontov, by Alpatych's advice, had bought a\ +wood from the prince, had begun to trade, and now had a house, an inn,\ +and a corn dealer's shop in that province. He was a stout, dark, red-\ +faced peasant in the forties, with thick lips, a broad knob of a nose,\ +similar knobs over his black frowning brows, and a round belly.\ +\ +Wearing a waistcoat over his cotton shirt, Ferapontov was standing\ +before his shop which opened onto the street. On seeing Alpatych he went\ +up to him.\ +\ +"You're welcome, Yakov Alpatych. Folks are leaving the town, but you\ +have come to it," said he.\ +\ +"Why are they leaving the town?" asked Alpatych.\ +\ +"That's what I say. Folks are foolish! Always afraid of the French."\ +\ +"Women's fuss, women's fuss!" said Alpatych.\ +\ +"Just what I think, Yakov Alpatych. What I say is: orders have been\ +given not to let them in, so that must be right. And the peasants are\ +asking three rubles for carting--it isn't Christian!"\ +\ +Yakov Alpatych heard without heeding. He asked for a samovar and for hay\ +for his horses, and when he had had his tea he went to bed.\ +\ +All night long troops were moving past the inn. Next morning Alpatych\ +donned a jacket he wore only in town and went out on business. It was a\ +sunny morning and by eight o'clock it was already hot. "A good day for\ +harvesting," thought Alpatych.\ +\ +From beyond the town firing had been heard since early morning. At eight\ +o'clock the booming of cannon was added to the sound of musketry. Many\ +people were hurrying through the streets and there were many soldiers,\ +but cabs were still driving about, tradesmen stood at their shops, and\ +service was being held in the churches as usual. Alpatych went to the\ +shops, to government offices, to the post office, and to the Governor's.\ +In the offices and shops and at the post office everyone was talking\ +about the army and about the enemy who was already attacking the town,\ +everybody was asking what should be done, and all were trying to calm\ +one another.\ +\ +In front of the Governor's house Alpatych found a large number of\ +people, Cossacks, and a traveling carriage of the Governor's. At the\ +porch he met two of the landed gentry, one of whom he knew. This man, an\ +ex-captain of police, was saying angrily:\ +\ +"It's no joke, you know! It's all very well if you're single. 'One man\ +though undone is but one,' as the proverb says, but with thirteen in\ +your family and all the property... They've brought us to utter ruin!\ +What sort of governors are they to do that? They ought to be hanged--the\ +brigands!..."\ +\ +"Oh come, that's enough!" said the other.\ +\ +"What do I care? Let him hear! We're not dogs," said the ex-captain of\ +police, and looking round he noticed Alpatych.\ +\ +"Oh, Yakov Alpatych! What have you come for?"\ +\ +"To see the Governor by his excellency's order," answered Alpatych,\ +lifting his head and proudly thrusting his hand into the bosom of his\ +coat as he always did when he mentioned the prince.... "He has ordered\ +me to inquire into the position of affairs," he added.\ +\ +"Yes, go and find out!" shouted the angry gentleman. "They've brought\ +things to such a pass that there are no carts or anything!... There it\ +is again, do you hear?" said he, pointing in the direction whence came\ +the sounds of firing.\ +\ +"They've brought us all to ruin... the brigands!" he repeated, and\ +descended the porch steps.\ +\ +Alpatych swayed his head and went upstairs. In the waiting room were\ +tradesmen, women, and officials, looking silently at one another. The\ +door of the Governor's room opened and they all rose and moved forward.\ +An official ran out, said some words to a merchant, called a stout\ +official with a cross hanging on his neck to follow him, and vanished\ +again, evidently wishing to avoid the inquiring looks and questions\ +addressed to him. Alpatych moved forward and next time the official came\ +out addressed him, one hand placed in the breast of his buttoned coat,\ +and handed him two letters.\ +\ +"To his Honor Baron Asch, from General-in-Chief Prince Bolkonski," he\ +announced with such solemnity and significance that the official turned\ +to him and took the letters.\ +\ +A few minutes later the Governor received Alpatych and hurriedly said to\ +him:\ +\ +"Inform the prince and princess that I knew nothing: I acted on the\ +highest instructions--here..." and he handed a paper to Alpatych.\ +"Still, as the prince is unwell my advice is that they should go to\ +Moscow. I am just starting myself. Inform them..."\ +\ +But the Governor did not finish: a dusty perspiring officer ran into the\ +room and began to say something in French. The Governor's face expressed\ +terror.\ +\ +"Go," he said, nodding his head to Alpatych, and began questioning the\ +officer.\ +\ +Eager, frightened, helpless glances were turned on Alpatych when he came\ +out of the Governor's room. Involuntarily listening now to the firing,\ +which had drawn nearer and was increasing in strength, Alpatych hurried\ +to his inn. The paper handed to him by the Governor said this:\ +\ +"I assure you that the town of Smolensk is not in the slightest danger\ +as yet and it is unlikely that it will be threatened with any. I from\ +the one side and Prince Bagration from the other are marching to unite\ +our forces before Smolensk, which junction will be effected on the 22nd\ +instant, and both armies with their united forces will defend our\ +compatriots of the province entrusted to your care till our efforts\ +shall have beaten back the enemies of our Fatherland, or till the last\ +warrior in our valiant ranks has perished. From this you will see that\ +you have a perfect right to reassure the inhabitants of Smolensk, for\ +those defended by two such brave armies may feel assured of victory."\ +(Instructions from Barclay de Tolly to Baron Asch, the civil governor of\ +Smolensk, 1812.)\ +\ +People were anxiously roaming about the streets.\ +\ +Carts piled high with household utensils, chairs, and cupboards kept\ +emerging from the gates of the yards and moving along the streets.\ +Loaded carts stood at the house next to Ferapontov's and women were\ +wailing and lamenting as they said good-by. A small watchdog ran round\ +barking in front of the harnessed horses.\ +\ +Alpatych entered the innyard at a quicker pace than usual and went\ +straight to the shed where his horses and trap were. The coachman was\ +asleep. He woke him up, told him to harness, and went into the passage.\ +From the host's room came the sounds of a child crying, the despairing\ +sobs of a woman, and the hoarse angry shouting of Ferapontov. The cook\ +began running hither and thither in the passage like a frightened hen,\ +just as Alpatych entered.\ +\ +"He's done her to death. Killed the mistress!... Beat her... dragged her\ +about so!..."\ +\ +"What for?" asked Alpatych.\ +\ +"She kept begging to go away. She's a woman! 'Take me away,' says she,\ +'don't let me perish with my little children! Folks,' she says, 'are all\ +gone, so why,' she says, 'don't we go?' And he began beating and pulling\ +her about so!"\ +\ +At these words Alpatych nodded as if in approval, and not wishing to\ +hear more went to the door of the room opposite the innkeeper's, where\ +he had left his purchases.\ +\ +"You brute, you murderer!" screamed a thin, pale woman who, with a baby\ +in her arms and her kerchief torn from her head, burst through the door\ +at that moment and down the steps into the yard.\ +\ +Ferapontov came out after her, but on seeing Alpatych adjusted his\ +waistcoat, smoothed his hair, yawned, and followed Alpatych into the\ +opposite room.\ +\ +"Going already?" said he.\ +\ +Alpatych, without answering or looking at his host, sorted his packages\ +and asked how much he owed.\ +\ +"We'll reckon up! Well, have you been to the Governor's?" asked\ +Ferapontov. "What has been decided?"\ +\ +Alpatych replied that the Governor had not told him anything definite.\ +\ +"With our business, how can we get away?" said Ferapontov. "We'd have to\ +pay seven rubles a cartload to Dorogobuzh and I tell them they're not\ +Christians to ask it! Selivanov, now, did a good stroke last Thursday--\ +sold flour to the army at nine rubles a sack. Will you have some tea?"\ +he added.\ +\ +While the horses were being harnessed Alpatych and Ferapontov over their\ +tea talked of the price of corn, the crops, and the good weather for\ +harvesting.\ +\ +"Well, it seems to be getting quieter," remarked Ferapontov, finishing\ +his third cup of tea and getting up. "Ours must have got the best of it.\ +The orders were not to let them in. So we're in force, it seems.... They\ +say the other day Matthew Ivanych Platov drove them into the river\ +Marina and drowned some eighteen thousand in one day."\ +\ +Alpatych collected his parcels, handed them to the coachman who had come\ +in, and settled up with the innkeeper. The noise of wheels, hoofs, and\ +bells was heard from the gateway as a little trap passed out.\ +\ +It was by now late in the afternoon. Half the street was in shadow, the\ +other half brightly lit by the sun. Alpatych looked out of the window\ +and went to the door. Suddenly the strange sound of a far-off whistling\ +and thud was heard, followed by a boom of cannon blending into a dull\ +roar that set the windows rattling.\ +\ +He went out into the street: two men were running past toward the\ +bridge. From different sides came whistling sounds and the thud of\ +cannon balls and bursting shells falling on the town. But these sounds\ +were hardly heard in comparison with the noise of the firing outside the\ +town and attracted little attention from the inhabitants. The town was\ +being bombarded by a hundred and thirty guns which Napoleon had ordered\ +up after four o'clock. The people did not at once realize the meaning of\ +this bombardment.\ +\ +At first the noise of the falling bombs and shells only aroused\ +curiosity. Ferapontov's wife, who till then had not ceased wailing under\ +the shed, became quiet and with the baby in her arms went to the gate,\ +listening to the sounds and looking in silence at the people.\ +\ +The cook and a shop assistant came to the gate. With lively curiosity\ +everyone tried to get a glimpse of the projectiles as they flew over\ +their heads. Several people came round the corner talking eagerly.\ +\ +"What force!" remarked one. "Knocked the roof and ceiling all to\ +splinters!"\ +\ +"Routed up the earth like a pig," said another.\ +\ +"That's grand, it bucks one up!" laughed the first. "Lucky you jumped\ +aside, or it would have wiped you out!"\ +\ +Others joined those men and stopped and told how cannon balls had fallen\ +on a house close to them. Meanwhile still more projectiles, now with the\ +swift sinister whistle of a cannon ball, now with the agreeable\ +intermittent whistle of a shell, flew over people's heads incessantly,\ +but not one fell close by, they all flew over. Alpatych was getting into\ +his trap. The innkeeper stood at the gate.\ +\ +"What are you staring at?" he shouted to the cook, who in her red skirt,\ +with sleeves rolled up, swinging her bare elbows, had stepped to the\ +corner to listen to what was being said.\ +\ +"What marvels!" she exclaimed, but hearing her master's voice she turned\ +back, pulling down her tucked-up skirt.\ +\ +Once more something whistled, but this time quite close, swooping\ +downwards like a little bird; a flame flashed in the middle of the\ +street, something exploded, and the street was shrouded in smoke.\ +\ +"Scoundrel, what are you doing?" shouted the innkeeper, rushing to the\ +cook.\ +\ +At that moment the pitiful wailing of women was heard from different\ +sides, the frightened baby began to cry, and people crowded silently\ +with pale faces round the cook. The loudest sound in that crowd was her\ +wailing.\ +\ +"Oh-h-h! Dear souls, dear kind souls! Don't let me die! My good\ +souls!..."\ +\ +Five minutes later no one remained in the street. The cook, with her\ +thigh broken by a shell splinter, had been carried into the kitchen.\ +Alpatych, his coachman, Ferapontov's wife and children and the house\ +porter were all sitting in the cellar, listening. The roar of guns, the\ +whistling of projectiles, and the piteous moaning of the cook, which\ +rose above the other sounds, did not cease for a moment. The mistress\ +rocked and hushed her baby and when anyone came into the cellar asked in\ +a pathetic whisper what had become of her husband who had remained in\ +the street. A shopman who entered told her that her husband had gone\ +with others to the cathedral, whence they were fetching the wonder-\ +working icon of Smolensk.\ +\ +Toward dusk the cannonade began to subside. Alpatych left the cellar and\ +stopped in the doorway. The evening sky that had been so clear was\ +clouded with smoke, through which, high up, the sickle of the new moon\ +shone strangely. Now that the terrible din of the guns had ceased a hush\ +seemed to reign over the town, broken only by the rustle of footsteps,\ +the moaning, the distant cries, and the crackle of fires which seemed\ +widespread everywhere. The cook's moans had now subsided. On two sides\ +black curling clouds of smoke rose and spread from the fires. Through\ +the streets soldiers in various uniforms walked or ran confusedly in\ +different directions like ants from a ruined ant-hill. Several of them\ +ran into Ferapontov's yard before Alpatych's eyes. Alpatych went out to\ +the gate. A retreating regiment, thronging and hurrying, blocked the\ +street.\ +\ +Noticing him, an officer said: "The town is being abandoned. Get away,\ +get away!" and then, turning to the soldiers, shouted:\ +\ +"I'll teach you to run into the yards!"\ +\ +Alpatych went back to the house, called the coachman, and told him to\ +set off. Ferapontov's whole household came out too, following Alpatych\ +and the coachman. The women, who had been silent till then, suddenly\ +began to wail as they looked at the fires--the smoke and even the flames\ +of which could be seen in the failing twilight--and as if in reply the\ +same kind of lamentation was heard from other parts of the street.\ +Inside the shed Alpatych and the coachman arranged the tangled reins and\ +traces of their horses with trembling hands.\ +\ +As Alpatych was driving out of the gate he saw some ten soldiers in\ +Ferapontov's open shop, talking loudly and filling their bags and\ +knapsacks with flour and sunflower seeds. Just then Ferapontov returned\ +and entered his shop. On seeing the soldiers he was about to shout at\ +them, but suddenly stopped and, clutching at his hair, burst into sobs\ +and laughter:\ +\ +"Loot everything, lads! Don't let those devils get it!" he cried, taking\ +some bags of flour himself and throwing them into the street.\ +\ +Some of the soldiers were frightened and ran away, others went on\ +filling their bags. On seeing Alpatych, Ferapontov turned to him:\ +\ +"Russia is done for!" he cried. "Alpatych, I'll set the place on fire\ +myself. We're done for!..." and Ferapontov ran into the yard.\ +\ +Soldiers were passing in a constant stream along the street blocking it\ +completely, so that Alpatych could not pass out and had to wait.\ +Ferapontov's wife and children were also sitting in a cart waiting till\ +it was possible to drive out.\ +\ +Night had come. There were stars in the sky and the new moon shone out\ +amid the smoke that screened it. On the sloping descent to the Dnieper\ +Alpatych's cart and that of the innkeeper's wife, which were slowly\ +moving amid the rows of soldiers and of other vehicles, had to stop. In\ +a side street near the crossroads where the vehicles had stopped, a\ +house and some shops were on fire. This fire was already burning itself\ +out. The flames now died down and were lost in the black smoke, now\ +suddenly flared up again brightly, lighting up with strange distinctness\ +the faces of the people crowding at the crossroads. Black figures\ +flitted about before the fire, and through the incessant crackling of\ +the flames talking and shouting could be heard. Seeing that his trap\ +would not be able to move on for some time, Alpatych got down and turned\ +into the side street to look at the fire. Soldiers were continually\ +rushing backwards and forwards near it, and he saw two of them and a man\ +in a frieze coat dragging burning beams into another yard across the\ +street, while others carried bundles of hay.\ +\ +Alpatych went up to a large crowd standing before a high barn which was\ +blazing briskly. The walls were all on fire and the back wall had fallen\ +in, the wooden roof was collapsing, and the rafters were alight. The\ +crowd was evidently watching for the roof to fall in, and Alpatych\ +watched for it too.\ +\ +"Alpatych!" a familiar voice suddenly hailed the old man.\ +\ +"Mercy on us! Your excellency!" answered Alpatych, immediately\ +recognizing the voice of his young prince.\ +\ +Prince Andrew in his riding cloak, mounted on a black horse, was looking\ +at Alpatych from the back of the crowd.\ +\ +"Why are you here?" he asked.\ +\ +"Your... your excellency," stammered Alpatych and broke into sobs. "Are\ +we really lost? Master!..."\ +\ +"Why are you here?" Prince Andrew repeated.\ +\ +At that moment the flames flared up and showed his young master's pale\ +worn face. Alpatych told how he had been sent there and how difficult it\ +was to get away.\ +\ +"Are we really quite lost, your excellency?" he asked again.\ +\ +Prince Andrew without replying took out a notebook and raising his knee\ +began writing in pencil on a page he tore out. He wrote to his sister:\ +\ +"Smolensk is being abandoned. Bald Hills will be occupied by the enemy\ +within a week. Set off immediately for Moscow. Let me know at once when\ +you will start. Send by special messenger to Usvyazh."\ +\ +Having written this and given the paper to Alpatych, he told him how to\ +arrange for departure of the prince, the princess, his son, and the\ +boy's tutor, and how and where to let him know immediately. Before he\ +had had time to finish giving these instructions, a chief of staff\ +followed by a suite galloped up to him.\ +\ +"You are a colonel?" shouted the chief of staff with a German accent, in\ +a voice familiar to Prince Andrew. "Houses are set on fire in your\ +presence and you stand by! What does this mean? You will answer for it!"\ +shouted Berg, who was now assistant to the chief of staff of the\ +commander of the left flank of the infantry of the first army, a place,\ +as Berg said, "very agreeable and well en evidence."\ +\ +Prince Andrew looked at him and without replying went on speaking to\ +Alpatych.\ +\ +"So tell them that I shall await a reply till the tenth, and if by the\ +tenth I don't receive news that they have all got away I shall have to\ +throw up everything and come myself to Bald Hills."\ +\ +"Prince," said Berg, recognizing Prince Andrew, "I only spoke because I\ +have to obey orders, because I always do obey exactly.... You must\ +please excuse me," he went on apologetically.\ +\ +Something cracked in the flames. The fire died down for a moment and\ +wreaths of black smoke rolled from under the roof. There was another\ +terrible crash and something huge collapsed.\ +\ +"Ou-rou-rou!" yelled the crowd, echoing the crash of the collapsing roof\ +of the barn, the burning grain in which diffused a cakelike aroma all\ +around. The flames flared up again, lighting the animated, delighted,\ +exhausted faces of the spectators.\ +\ +The man in the frieze coat raised his arms and shouted:\ +\ +"It's fine, lads! Now it's raging... It's fine!"\ +\ +"That's the owner himself," cried several voices.\ +\ +"Well then," continued Prince Andrew to Alpatych, "report to them as I\ +have told you"; and not replying a word to Berg who was now mute beside\ +him, he touched his horse and rode down the side street.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER V\ +\ +From Smolensk the troops continued to retreat, followed by the enemy. On\ +the tenth of August the regiment Prince Andrew commanded was marching\ +along the highroad past the avenue leading to Bald Hills. Heat and\ +drought had continued for more than three weeks. Each day fleecy clouds\ +floated across the sky and occasionally veiled the sun, but toward\ +evening the sky cleared again and the sun set in reddish-brown mist.\ +Heavy night dews alone refreshed the earth. The unreaped corn was\ +scorched and shed its grain. The marshes dried up. The cattle lowed from\ +hunger, finding no food on the sun-parched meadows. Only at night and in\ +the forests while the dew lasted was there any freshness. But on the\ +road, the highroad along which the troops marched, there was no such\ +freshness even at night or when the road passed through the forest; the\ +dew was imperceptible on the sandy dust churned up more than six inches\ +deep. As soon as day dawned the march began. The artillery and baggage\ +wagons moved noiselessly through the deep dust that rose to the very\ +hubs of the wheels, and the infantry sank ankle-deep in that soft,\ +choking, hot dust that never cooled even at night. Some of this dust was\ +kneaded by the feet and wheels, while the rest rose and hung like a\ +cloud over the troops, settling in eyes, ears, hair, and nostrils, and\ +worst of all in the lungs of the men and beasts as they moved along that\ +road. The higher the sun rose the higher rose that cloud of dust, and\ +through the screen of its hot fine particles one could look with naked\ +eye at the sun, which showed like a huge crimson ball in the unclouded\ +sky. There was no wind, and the men choked in that motionless\ +atmosphere. They marched with handkerchiefs tied over their noses and\ +mouths. When they passed through a village they all rushed to the wells\ +and fought for the water and drank it down to the mud.\ +\ +Prince Andrew was in command of a regiment, and the management of that\ +regiment, the welfare of the men and the necessity of receiving and\ +giving orders, engrossed him. The burning of Smolensk and its\ +abandonment made an epoch in his life. A novel feeling of anger against\ +the foe made him forget his own sorrow. He was entirely devoted to the\ +affairs of his regiment and was considerate and kind to his men and\ +officers. In the regiment they called him "our prince," were proud of\ +him and loved him. But he was kind and gentle only to those of his\ +regiment, to Timokhin and the like--people quite new to him, belonging\ +to a different world and who could not know and understand his past. As\ +soon as he came across a former acquaintance or anyone from the staff,\ +he bristled up immediately and grew spiteful, ironical, and\ +contemptuous. Everything that reminded him of his past was repugnant to\ +him, and so in his relations with that former circle he confined himself\ +to trying to do his duty and not to be unfair.\ +\ +In truth everything presented itself in a dark and gloomy light to\ +Prince Andrew, especially after the abandonment of Smolensk on the sixth\ +of August (he considered that it could and should have been defended)\ +and after his sick father had had to flee to Moscow, abandoning to\ +pillage his dearly beloved Bald Hills which he had built and peopled.\ +But despite this, thanks to his regiment, Prince Andrew had something to\ +think about entirely apart from general questions. Two days previously\ +he had received news that his father, son, and sister had left for\ +Moscow; and though there was nothing for him to do at Bald Hills, Prince\ +Andrew with a characteristic desire to foment his own grief decided that\ +he must ride there.\ +\ +He ordered his horse to be saddled and, leaving his regiment on the\ +march, rode to his father's estate where he had been born and spent his\ +childhood. Riding past the pond where there used always to be dozens of\ +women chattering as they rinsed their linen or beat it with wooden\ +beetles, Prince Andrew noticed that there was not a soul about and that\ +the little washing wharf, torn from its place and half submerged, was\ +floating on its side in the middle of the pond. He rode to the keeper's\ +lodge. No one at the stone entrance gates of the drive and the door\ +stood open. Grass had already begun to grow on the garden paths, and\ +horses and calves were straying in the English park. Prince Andrew rode\ +up to the hothouse; some of the glass panes were broken, and of the\ +trees in tubs some were overturned and others dried up. He called for\ +Taras the gardener, but no one replied. Having gone round the corner of\ +the hothouse to the ornamental garden, he saw that the carved garden\ +fence was broken and branches of the plum trees had been torn off with\ +the fruit. An old peasant whom Prince Andrew in his childhood had often\ +seen at the gate was sitting on a green garden seat, plaiting a bast\ +shoe.\ +\ +He was deaf and did not hear Prince Andrew ride up. He was sitting on\ +the seat the old prince used to like to sit on, and beside him strips of\ +bast were hanging on the broken and withered branch of a magnolia.\ +\ +Prince Andrew rode up to the house. Several limes in the old garden had\ +been cut down and a piebald mare and her foal were wandering in front of\ +the house among the rosebushes. The shutters were all closed, except at\ +one window which was open. A little serf boy, seeing Prince Andrew, ran\ +into the house. Alpatych, having sent his family away, was alone at Bald\ +Hills and was sitting indoors reading the Lives of the Saints. On\ +hearing that Prince Andrew had come, he went out with his spectacles on\ +his nose, buttoning his coat, and, hastily stepping up, without a word\ +began weeping and kissing Prince Andrew's knee.\ +\ +Then, vexed at his own weakness, he turned away and began to report on\ +the position of affairs. Everything precious and valuable had been\ +removed to Bogucharovo. Seventy quarters of grain had also been carted\ +away. The hay and the spring corn, of which Alpatych said there had been\ +a remarkable crop that year, had been commandeered by the troops and\ +mown down while still green. The peasants were ruined; some of them too\ +had gone to Bogucharovo, only a few remained.\ +\ +Without waiting to hear him out, Prince Andrew asked:\ +\ +"When did my father and sister leave?" meaning when did they leave for\ +Moscow.\ +\ +Alpatych, understanding the question to refer to their departure for\ +Bogucharovo, replied that they had left on the seventh and again went\ +into details concerning the estate management, asking for instructions.\ +\ +"Am I to let the troops have the oats, and to take a receipt for them?\ +We have still six hundred quarters left," he inquired.\ +\ +"What am I to say to him?" thought Prince Andrew, looking down on the\ +old man's bald head shining in the sun and seeing by the expression on\ +his face that the old man himself understood how untimely such questions\ +were and only asked them to allay his grief.\ +\ +"Yes, let them have it," replied Prince Andrew.\ +\ +"If you noticed some disorder in the garden," said Alpatych, "it was\ +impossible to prevent it. Three regiments have been here and spent the\ +night, dragoons mostly. I took down the name and rank of their\ +commanding officer, to hand in a complaint about it."\ +\ +"Well, and what are you going to do? Will you stay here if the enemy\ +occupies the place?" asked Prince Andrew.\ +\ +Alpatych turned his face to Prince Andrew, looked at him, and suddenly\ +with a solemn gesture raised his arm.\ +\ +"He is my refuge! His will be done!" he exclaimed.\ +\ +A group of bareheaded peasants was approaching across the meadow toward\ +the prince.\ +\ +"Well, good-by!" said Prince Andrew, bending over to Alpatych. "You must\ +go away too, take away what you can and tell the serfs to go to the\ +Ryazan estate or to the one near Moscow."\ +\ +Alpatych clung to Prince Andrew's leg and burst into sobs. Gently\ +disengaging himself, the prince spurred his horse and rode down the\ +avenue at a gallop.\ +\ +The old man was still sitting in the ornamental garden, like a fly\ +impassive on the face of a loved one who is dead, tapping the last on\ +which he was making the bast shoe, and two little girls, running out\ +from the hot house carrying in their skirts plums they had plucked from\ +the trees there, came upon Prince Andrew. On seeing the young master,\ +the elder one with frightened look clutched her younger companion by the\ +hand and hid with her behind a birch tree, not stopping to pick up some\ +green plums they had dropped.\ +\ +Prince Andrew turned away with startled haste, unwilling to let them see\ +that they had been observed. He was sorry for the pretty frightened\ +little girl, was afraid of looking at her, and yet felt an irresistible\ +desire to do so. A new sensation of comfort and relief came over him\ +when, seeing these girls, he realized the existence of other human\ +interests entirely aloof from his own and just as legitimate as those\ +that occupied him. Evidently these girls passionately desired one thing-\ +-to carry away and eat those green plums without being caught--and\ +Prince Andrew shared their wish for the success of their enterprise. He\ +could not resist looking at them once more. Believing their danger past,\ +they sprang from their ambush and, chirruping something in their shrill\ +little voices and holding up their skirts, their bare little sunburned\ +feet scampered merrily and quickly across the meadow grass.\ +\ +Prince Andrew was somewhat refreshed by having ridden off the dusty\ +highroad along which the troops were moving. But not far from Bald Hills\ +he again came out on the road and overtook his regiment at its halting\ +place by the dam of a small pond. It was past one o'clock. The sun, a\ +red ball through the dust, burned and scorched his back intolerably\ +through his black coat. The dust always hung motionless above the buzz\ +of talk that came from the resting troops. There was no wind. As he\ +crossed the dam Prince Andrew smelled the ooze and freshness of the\ +pond. He longed to get into that water, however dirty it might be, and\ +he glanced round at the pool from whence came sounds of shrieks and\ +laughter. The small, muddy, green pond had risen visibly more than a\ +foot, flooding the dam, because it was full of the naked white bodies of\ +soldiers with brick-red hands, necks, and faces, who were splashing\ +about in it. All this naked white human flesh, laughing and shrieking,\ +floundered about in that dirty pool like carp stuffed into a watering\ +can, and the suggestion of merriment in that floundering mass rendered\ +it specially pathetic.\ +\ +One fair-haired young soldier of the third company, whom Prince Andrew\ +knew and who had a strap round the calf of one leg, crossed himself,\ +stepped back to get a good run, and plunged into the water; another, a\ +dark noncommissioned officer who was always shaggy, stood up to his\ +waist in the water joyfully wriggling his muscular figure and snorted\ +with satisfaction as he poured the water over his head with hands\ +blackened to the wrists. There were sounds of men slapping one another,\ +yelling, and puffing.\ +\ +Everywhere on the bank, on the dam, and in the pond, there was healthy,\ +white, muscular flesh. The officer, Timokhin, with his red little nose,\ +standing on the dam wiping himself with a towel, felt confused at seeing\ +the prince, but made up his mind to address him nevertheless.\ +\ +"It's very nice, your excellency! Wouldn't you like to?" said he.\ +\ +"It's dirty," replied Prince Andrew, making a grimace.\ +\ +"We'll clear it out for you in a minute," said Timokhin, and, still\ +undressed, ran off to clear the men out of the pond.\ +\ +"The prince wants to bathe."\ +\ +"What prince? Ours?" said many voices, and the men were in such haste to\ +clear out that the prince could hardly stop them. He decided that he\ +would rather wash himself with water in the barn.\ +\ +"Flesh, bodies, cannon fodder!" he thought, and he looked at his own\ +naked body and shuddered, not from cold but from a sense of disgust and\ +horror he did not himself understand, aroused by the sight of that\ +immense number of bodies splashing about in the dirty pond.\ +\ +On the seventh of August Prince Bagration wrote as follows from his\ +quarters at Mikhaylovna on the Smolensk road:\ +\ +Dear Count Alexis Andreevich--(He was writing to Arakcheev but knew that\ +his letter would be read by the Emperor, and therefore weighed every\ +word in it to the best of his ability.)\ +\ +I expect the Minister (Barclay de Tolly) has already reported the\ +abandonment of Smolensk to the enemy. It is pitiable and sad, and the\ +whole army is in despair that this most important place has been\ +wantonly abandoned. I, for my part, begged him personally most urgently\ +and finally wrote him, but nothing would induce him to consent. I swear\ +to you on my honor that Napoleon was in such a fix as never before and\ +might have lost half his army but could not have taken Smolensk. Our\ +troops fought, and are fighting, as never before. With fifteen thousand\ +men I held the enemy at bay for thirty-five hours and beat him; but he\ +would not hold out even for fourteen hours. It is disgraceful, a stain\ +on our army, and as for him, he ought, it seems to me, not to live. If\ +he reports that our losses were great, it is not true; perhaps about\ +four thousand, not more, and not even that; but even were they ten\ +thousand, that's war! But the enemy has lost masses...\ +\ +What would it have cost him to hold out for another two days? They would\ +have had to retire of their own accord, for they had no water for men or\ +horses. He gave me his word he would not retreat, but suddenly sent\ +instructions that he was retiring that night. We cannot fight in this\ +way, or we may soon bring the enemy to Moscow...\ +\ +There is a rumor that you are thinking of peace. God forbid that you\ +should make peace after all our sacrifices and such insane retreats! You\ +would set all Russia against you and every one of us would feel ashamed\ +to wear the uniform. If it has come to this--we must fight as long as\ +Russia can and as long as there are men able to stand...\ +\ +One man ought to be in command, and not two. Your Minister may perhaps\ +be good as a Minister, but as a general he is not merely bad but\ +execrable, yet to him is entrusted the fate of our whole country.... I\ +am really frantic with vexation; forgive my writing boldly. It is clear\ +that the man who advocates the conclusion of a peace, and that the\ +Minister should command the army, does not love our sovereign and\ +desires the ruin of us all. So I write you frankly: call out the\ +militia. For the Minister is leading these visitors after him to Moscow\ +in a most masterly way. The whole army feels great suspicion of the\ +Imperial aide-de-camp Wolzogen. He is said to be more Napoleon's man\ +than ours, and he is always advising the Minister. I am not merely civil\ +to him but obey him like a corporal, though I am his senior. This is\ +painful, but, loving my benefactor and sovereign, I submit. Only I am\ +sorry for the Emperor that he entrusts our fine army to such as he.\ +Consider that on our retreat we have lost by fatigue and left in the\ +hospital more than fifteen thousand men, and had we attacked this would\ +not have happened. Tell me, for God's sake, what will Russia, our mother\ +Russia, say to our being so frightened, and why are we abandoning our\ +good and gallant Fatherland to such rabble and implanting feelings of\ +hatred and shame in all our subjects? What are we scared at and of whom\ +are we afraid? I am not to blame that the Minister is vacillating, a\ +coward, dense, dilatory, and has all bad qualities. The whole army\ +bewails it and calls down curses upon him...\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER VI\ +\ +Among the innumerable categories applicable to the phenomena of human\ +life one may discriminate between those in which substance prevails and\ +those in which form prevails. To the latter--as distinguished from\ +village, country, provincial, or even Moscow life--we may allot\ +Petersburg life, and especially the life of its salons. That life of the\ +salons is unchanging. Since the year 1805 we had made peace and had\ +again quarreled with Bonaparte and had made constitutions and unmade\ +them again, but the salons of Anna Pavlovna and Helene remained just as\ +they had been--the one seven and the other five years before. At Anna\ +Pavlovna's they talked with perplexity of Bonaparte's successes just as\ +before and saw in them and in the subservience shown to him by the\ +European sovereigns a malicious conspiracy, the sole object of which was\ +to cause unpleasantness and anxiety to the court circle of which Anna\ +Pavlovna was the representative. And in Helene's salon, which Rumyantsev\ +himself honored with his visits, regarding Helene as a remarkably\ +intelligent woman, they talked with the same ecstasy in 1812 as in 1808\ +of the "great nation" and the "great man," and regretted our rupture\ +with France, a rupture which, according to them, ought to be promptly\ +terminated by peace.\ +\ +Of late, since the Emperor's return from the army, there had been some\ +excitement in these conflicting salon circles and some demonstrations of\ +hostility to one another, but each camp retained its own tendency. In\ +Anna Pavlovna's circle only those Frenchmen were admitted who were deep-\ +rooted legitimists, and patriotic views were expressed to the effect\ +that one ought not to go to the French theater and that to maintain the\ +French troupe was costing the government as much as a whole army corps.\ +The progress of the war was eagerly followed, and only the reports most\ +flattering to our army were circulated. In the French circle of Helene\ +and Rumyantsev the reports of the cruelty of the enemy and of the war\ +were contradicted and all Napoleon's attempts at conciliation were\ +discussed. In that circle they discountenanced those who advised hurried\ +preparations for a removal to Kazan of the court and the girls'\ +educational establishments under the patronage of the Dowager Empress.\ +In Helene's circle the war in general was regarded as a series of formal\ +demonstrations which would very soon end in peace, and the view\ +prevailed expressed by Bilibin--who now in Petersburg was quite at home\ +in Helene's house, which every clever man was obliged to visit--that not\ +by gunpowder but by those who invented it would matters be settled. In\ +that circle the Moscow enthusiasm--news of which had reached Petersburg\ +simultaneously with the Emperor's return--was ridiculed sarcastically\ +and very cleverly, though with much caution.\ +\ +Anna Pavlovna's circle on the contrary was enraptured by this enthusiasm\ +and spoke of it as Plutarch speaks of the deeds of the ancients. Prince\ +Vasili, who still occupied his former important posts, formed a\ +connecting link between these two circles. He visited his "good friend\ +Anna Pavlovna" as well as his daughter's "diplomatic salon," and often\ +in his constant comings and goings between the two camps became confused\ +and said at Helene's what he should have said at Anna Pavlovna's and\ +vice versa.\ +\ +Soon after the Emperor's return Prince Vasili in a conversation about\ +the war at Anna Pavlovna's severely condemned Barclay de Tolly, but was\ +undecided as to who ought to be appointed commander-in-chief. One of the\ +visitors, usually spoken of as "a man of great merit," having described\ +how he had that day seen Kutuzov, the newly chosen chief of the\ +Petersburg militia, presiding over the enrollment of recruits at the\ +Treasury, cautiously ventured to suggest that Kutuzov would be the man\ +to satisfy all requirements.\ +\ +Anna Pavlovna remarked with a melancholy smile that Kutuzov had done\ +nothing but cause the Emperor annoyance.\ +\ +"I have talked and talked at the Assembly of the Nobility," Prince\ +Vasili interrupted, "but they did not listen to me. I told them his\ +election as chief of the militia would not please the Emperor. They did\ +not listen to me.\ +\ +"It's all this mania for opposition," he went on. "And who for? It is\ +all because we want to ape the foolish enthusiasm of those Muscovites,"\ +Prince Vasili continued, forgetting for a moment that though at Helene's\ +one had to ridicule the Moscow enthusiasm, at Anna Pavlovna's one had to\ +be ecstatic about it. But he retrieved his mistake at once. "Now, is it\ +suitable that Count Kutuzov, the oldest general in Russia, should\ +preside at that tribunal? He will get nothing for his pains! How could\ +they make a man commander-in-chief who cannot mount a horse, who drops\ +asleep at a council, and has the very worst morals! A good reputation he\ +made for himself at Bucharest! I don't speak of his capacity as a\ +general, but at a time like this how they appoint a decrepit, blind old\ +man, positively blind? A fine idea to have a blind general! He can't see\ +anything. To play blindman's bluff? He can't see at all!"\ +\ +No one replied to his remarks.\ +\ +This was quite correct on the twenty-fourth of July. But on the twenty-\ +ninth of July Kutuzov received the title of Prince. This might indicate\ +a wish to get rid of him, and therefore Prince Vasili's opinion\ +continued to be correct though he was not now in any hurry to express\ +it. But on the eighth of August a committee, consisting of Field Marshal\ +Saltykov, Arakcheev, Vyazmitinov, Lopukhin, and Kochubey met to consider\ +the progress of the war. This committee came to the conclusion that our\ +failures were due to a want of unity in the command and though the\ +members of the committee were aware of the Emperor's dislike of Kutuzov,\ +after a short deliberation they agreed to advise his appointment as\ +commander in chief. That same day Kutuzov was appointed commander-in-\ +chief with full powers over the armies and over the whole region\ +occupied by them.\ +\ +On the ninth of August Prince Vasili at Anna Pavlovna's again met the\ +"man of great merit." The latter was very attentive to Anna Pavlovna\ +because he wanted to be appointed director of one of the educational\ +establishments for young ladies. Prince Vasili entered the room with the\ +air of a happy conqueror who has attained the object of his desires.\ +\ +"Well, have you heard the great news? Prince Kutuzov is field marshal!\ +All dissensions are at an end! I am so glad, so delighted! At last we\ +have a man!" said he, glancing sternly and significantly round at\ +everyone in the drawing room.\ +\ +The "man of great merit," despite his desire to obtain the post of\ +director, could not refrain from reminding Prince Vasili of his former\ +opinion. Though this was impolite to Prince Vasili in Anna Pavlovna's\ +drawing room, and also to Anna Pavlovna herself who had received the\ +news with delight, he could not resist the temptation.\ +\ +"But, Prince, they say he is blind!" said he, reminding Prince Vasili of\ +his own words.\ +\ +"Eh? Nonsense! He sees well enough," said Prince Vasili rapidly, in a\ +deep voice and with a slight cough--the voice and cough with which he\ +was wont to dispose of all difficulties.\ +\ +"He sees well enough," he added. "And what I am so pleased about," he\ +went on, "is that our sovereign has given him full powers over all the\ +armies and the whole region--powers no commander-in-chief ever had\ +before. He is a second autocrat," he concluded with a victorious smile.\ +\ +"God grant it! God grant it!" said Anna Pavlovna.\ +\ +The "man of great merit," who was still a novice in court circles,\ +wishing to flatter Anna Pavlovna by defending her former position on\ +this question, observed:\ +\ +"It is said that the Emperor was reluctant to give Kutuzov those powers.\ +They say he blushed like a girl to whom Joconde is read, when he said to\ +Kutuzov: 'Your Emperor and the Fatherland award you this honor.'"\ +\ +"Perhaps the heart took no part in that speech," said Anna Pavlovna.\ +\ +"Oh, no, no!" warmly rejoined Prince Vasili, who would not now yield\ +Kutuzov to anyone; in his opinion Kutuzov was not only admirable\ +himself, but was adored by everybody. "No, that's impossible," said he,\ +"for our sovereign appreciated him so highly before."\ +\ +"God grant only that Prince Kutuzov assumes real power and does not\ +allow anyone to put a spoke in his wheel," observed Anna Pavlovna.\ +\ +Understanding at once to whom she alluded, Prince Vasili said in a\ +whisper:\ +\ +"I know for a fact that Kutuzov made it an absolute condition that the\ +Tsarevich should not be with the army. Do you know what he said to the\ +Emperor?"\ +\ +And Prince Vasili repeated the words supposed to have been spoken by\ +Kutuzov to the Emperor. "I can neither punish him if he does wrong nor\ +reward him if he does right."\ +\ +"Oh, a very wise man is Prince Kutuzov! I have known him a long time!"\ +\ +"They even say," remarked the "man of great merit" who did not yet\ +possess courtly tact, "that his excellency made it an express condition\ +that the sovereign himself should not be with the army."\ +\ +As soon as he said this both Prince Vasili and Anna Pavlovna turned away\ +from him and glanced sadly at one another with a sigh at his naivete.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER VII\ +\ +While this was taking place in Petersburg the French had already passed\ +Smolensk and were drawing nearer and nearer to Moscow. Napoleon's\ +historian Thiers, like other of his historians, trying to justify his\ +hero says that he was drawn to the walls of Moscow against his will. He\ +is as right as other historians who look for the explanation of historic\ +events in the will of one man; he is as right as the Russian historians\ +who maintain that Napoleon was drawn to Moscow by the skill of the\ +Russian commanders. Here besides the law of retrospection, which regards\ +all the past as a preparation for events that subsequently occur, the\ +law of reciprocity comes in, confusing the whole matter. A good\ +chessplayer having lost a game is sincerely convinced that his loss\ +resulted from a mistake he made and looks for that mistake in the\ +opening, but forgets that at each stage of the game there were similar\ +mistakes and that none of his moves were perfect. He only notices the\ +mistake to which he pays attention, because his opponent took advantage\ +of it. How much more complex than this is the game of war, which occurs\ +under certain limits of time, and where it is not one will that\ +manipulates lifeless objects, but everything results from innumerable\ +conflicts of various wills!\ +\ +After Smolensk Napoleon sought a battle beyond Dorogobuzh at Vyazma, and\ +then at Tsarevo-Zaymishche, but it happened that owing to a conjunction\ +of innumerable circumstances the Russians could not give battle till\ +they reached Borodino, seventy miles from Moscow. From Vyazma Napoleon\ +ordered a direct advance on Moscow.\ +\ +Moscou, la capitale asiatique de ce grand empire, la ville sacree des\ +peuples d'Alexandre, Moscou avec ses innombrables eglises en forme de\ +pagodes chinoises, * this Moscow gave Napoleon's imagination no rest. On\ +the march from Vyazma to Tsarevo-Zaymishche he rode his light bay\ +bobtailed ambler accompanied by his Guards, his bodyguard, his pages,\ +and aides-de-camp. Berthier, his chief of staff, dropped behind to\ +question a Russian prisoner captured by the cavalry. Followed by\ +Lelorgne d'Ideville, an interpreter, he overtook Napoleon at a gallop\ +and reined in his horse with an amused expression.\ +\ +\ +* "Moscow, the Asiatic capital of this great empire, the sacred city of\ +Alexander's people, Moscow with its innumerable churches shaped like\ +Chinese pagodas."\ +\ +"Well?" asked Napoleon.\ +\ +"One of Platov's Cossacks says that Platov's corps is joining up with\ +the main army and that Kutuzov has been appointed commander-in-chief. He\ +is a very shrewd and garrulous fellow."\ +\ +Napoleon smiled and told them to give the Cossack a horse and bring the\ +man to him. He wished to talk to him himself. Several adjutants galloped\ +off, and an hour later, Lavrushka, the serf Denisov had handed over to\ +Rostov, rode up to Napoleon in an orderly's jacket and on a French\ +cavalry saddle, with a merry, and tipsy face. Napoleon told him to ride\ +by his side and began questioning him.\ +\ +"You are a Cossack?"\ +\ +"Yes, a Cossack, your Honor."\ +\ +"The Cossack, not knowing in what company he was, for Napoleon's plain\ +appearance had nothing about it that would reveal to an Oriental mind\ +the presence of a monarch, talked with extreme familiarity of the\ +incidents of the war," says Thiers, narrating this episode. In reality\ +Lavrushka, having got drunk the day before and left his master\ +dinnerless, had been whipped and sent to the village in quest of\ +chickens, where he engaged in looting till the French took him prisoner.\ +Lavrushka was one of those coarse, bare-faced lackeys who have seen all\ +sorts of things, consider it necessary to do everything in a mean and\ +cunning way, are ready to render any sort of service to their master,\ +and are keen at guessing their master's baser impulses, especially those\ +prompted by vanity and pettiness.\ +\ +Finding himself in the company of Napoleon, whose identity he had easily\ +and surely recognized, Lavrushka was not in the least abashed but merely\ +did his utmost to gain his new master's favor.\ +\ +He knew very well that this was Napoleon, but Napoleon's presence could\ +no more intimidate him than Rostov's, or a sergeant major's with the\ +rods, would have done, for he had nothing that either the sergeant major\ +or Napoleon could deprive him of.\ +\ +So he rattled on, telling all the gossip he had heard among the\ +orderlies. Much of it true. But when Napoleon asked him whether the\ +Russians thought they would beat Bonaparte or not, Lavrushka screwed up\ +his eyes and considered.\ +\ +In this question he saw subtle cunning, as men of his type see cunning\ +in everything, so he frowned and did not answer immediately.\ +\ +"It's like this," he said thoughtfully, "if there's a battle soon, yours\ +will win. That's right. But if three days pass, then after that, well,\ +then that same battle will not soon be over."\ +\ +Lelorgne d'Ideville smilingly interpreted this speech to Napoleon thus:\ +"If a battle takes place within the next three days the French will win,\ +but if later, God knows what will happen." Napoleon did not smile,\ +though he was evidently in high good humor, and he ordered these words\ +to be repeated.\ +\ +Lavrushka noticed this and to entertain him further, pretending not to\ +know who Napoleon was, added:\ +\ +"We know that you have Bonaparte and that he has beaten everybody in the\ +world, but we are a different matter..."--without knowing why or how\ +this bit of boastful patriotism slipped out at the end.\ +\ +The interpreter translated these words without the last phrase, and\ +Bonaparte smiled. "The young Cossack made his mighty interlocutor\ +smile," says Thiers. After riding a few paces in silence, Napoleon\ +turned to Berthier and said he wished to see how the news that he was\ +talking to the Emperor himself, to that very Emperor who had written his\ +immortally victorious name on the Pyramids, would affect this enfant du\ +Don. *\ +\ +\ +* "Child of the Don."\ +\ +The fact was accordingly conveyed to Lavrushka.\ +\ +Lavrushka, understanding that this was done to perplex him and that\ +Napoleon expected him to be frightened, to gratify his new masters\ +promptly pretended to be astonished and awe-struck, opened his eyes\ +wide, and assumed the expression he usually put on when taken to be\ +whipped. "As soon as Napoleon's interpreter had spoken," says Thiers,\ +"the Cossack, seized by amazement, did not utter another word, but rode\ +on, his eyes fixed on the conqueror whose fame had reached him across\ +the steppes of the East. All his loquacity was suddenly arrested and\ +replaced by a naive and silent feeling of admiration. Napoleon, after\ +making the Cossack a present, had him set free like a bird restored to\ +its native fields."\ +\ +Napoleon rode on, dreaming of the Moscow that so appealed to his\ +imagination, and "the bird restored to its native fields" galloped to\ +our outposts, inventing on the way all that had not taken place but that\ +he meant to relate to his comrades. What had really taken place he did\ +not wish to relate because it seemed to him not worth telling. He found\ +the Cossacks, inquired for the regiment operating with Platov's\ +detachment and by evening found his master, Nicholas Rostov, quartered\ +at Yankovo. Rostov was just mounting to go for a ride round the\ +neighboring villages with Ilyin; he let Lavrushka have another horse and\ +took him along with him.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER VIII\ +\ +Princess Mary was not in Moscow and out of danger as Prince Andrew\ +supposed.\ +\ +After the return of Alpatych from Smolensk the old prince suddenly\ +seemed to awake as from a dream. He ordered the militiamen to be called\ +up from the villages and armed, and wrote a letter to the commander-in-\ +chief informing him that he had resolved to remain at Bald Hills to the\ +last extremity and to defend it, leaving to the commander-in-chief's\ +discretion to take measures or not for the defense of Bald Hills, where\ +one of Russia's oldest generals would be captured or killed, and he\ +announced to his household that he would remain at Bald Hills.\ +\ +But while himself remaining, he gave instructions for the departure of\ +the princess and Dessalles with the little prince to Bogucharovo and\ +thence to Moscow. Princess Mary, alarmed by her father's feverish and\ +sleepless activity after his previous apathy, could not bring herself to\ +leave him alone and for the first time in her life ventured to disobey\ +him. She refused to go away and her father's fury broke over her in a\ +terrible storm. He repeated every injustice he had ever inflicted on\ +her. Trying to convict her, he told her she had worn him out, had caused\ +his quarrel with his son, had harbored nasty suspicions of him, making\ +it the object of her life to poison his existence, and he drove her from\ +his study telling her that if she did not go away it was all the same to\ +him. He declared that he did not wish to remember her existence and\ +warned her not to dare to let him see her. The fact that he did not, as\ +she had feared, order her to be carried away by force but only told her\ +not to let him see her cheered Princess Mary. She knew it was a proof\ +that in the depth of his soul he was glad she was remaining at home and\ +had not gone away.\ +\ +The morning after little Nicholas had left, the old prince donned his\ +full uniform and prepared to visit the commander-in-chief. His caleche\ +was already at the door. Princess Mary saw him walk out of the house in\ +his uniform wearing all his orders and go down the garden to review his\ +armed peasants and domestic serfs. She sat by the window listening to\ +his voice which reached her from the garden. Suddenly several men came\ +running up the avenue with frightened faces.\ +\ +Princess Mary ran out to the porch, down the flower-bordered path, and\ +into the avenue. A large crowd of militiamen and domestics were moving\ +toward her, and in their midst several men were supporting by the\ +armpits and dragging along a little old man in a uniform and\ +decorations. She ran up to him and, in the play of the sunlight that\ +fell in small round spots through the shade of the lime-tree avenue,\ +could not be sure what change there was in his face. All she could see\ +was that his former stern and determined expression had altered to one\ +of timidity and submission. On seeing his daughter he moved his helpless\ +lips and made a hoarse sound. It was impossible to make out what he\ +wanted. He was lifted up, carried to his study, and laid on the very\ +couch he had so feared of late.\ +\ +The doctor, who was fetched that same night, bled him and said that the\ +prince had had a seizure paralyzing his right side.\ +\ +It was becoming more and more dangerous to remain at Bald Hills, and\ +next day they moved the prince to Bogucharovo, the doctor accompanying\ +him.\ +\ +By the time they reached Bogucharovo, Dessalles and the little prince\ +had already left for Moscow.\ +\ +For three weeks the old prince lay stricken by paralysis in the new\ +house Prince Andrew had built at Bogucharovo, ever in the same state,\ +getting neither better nor worse. He was unconscious and lay like a\ +distorted corpse. He muttered unceasingly, his eyebrows and lips\ +twitching, and it was impossible to tell whether he understood what was\ +going on around him or not. One thing was certain--that he was suffering\ +and wished to say something. But what it was, no one could tell: it\ +might be some caprice of a sick and half-crazy man, or it might relate\ +to public affairs, or possibly to family concerns.\ +\ +The doctor said this restlessness did not mean anything and was due to\ +physical causes; but Princess Mary thought he wished to tell her\ +something, and the fact that her presence always increased his\ +restlessness confirmed her opinion.\ +\ +He was evidently suffering both physically and mentally. There was no\ +hope of recovery. It was impossible for him to travel, it would not do\ +to let him die on the road. "Would it not be better if the end did come,\ +the very end?" Princess Mary sometimes thought. Night and day, hardly\ +sleeping at all, she watched him and, terrible to say, often watched him\ +not with hope of finding signs of improvement but wishing to find\ +symptoms of the approach of the end.\ +\ +Strange as it was to her to acknowledge this feeling in herself, yet\ +there it was. And what seemed still more terrible to her was that since\ +her father's illness began (perhaps even sooner, when she stayed with\ +him expecting something to happen), all the personal desires and hopes\ +that had been forgotten or sleeping within her had awakened. Thoughts\ +that had not entered her mind for years--thoughts of a life free from\ +the fear of her father, and even the possibility of love and of family\ +happiness--floated continually in her imagination like temptations of\ +the devil. Thrust them aside as she would, questions continually\ +recurred to her as to how she would order her life now, after that.\ +These were temptations of the devil and Princess Mary knew it. She knew\ +that the sole weapon against him was prayer, and she tried to pray. She\ +assumed an attitude of prayer, looked at the icons, repeated the words\ +of a prayer, but she could not pray. She felt that a different world had\ +now taken possession of her--the life of a world of strenuous and free\ +activity, quite opposed to the spiritual world in which till now she had\ +been confined and in which her greatest comfort had been prayer. She\ +could not pray, could not weep, and worldly cares took possession of\ +her.\ +\ +It was becoming dangerous to remain in Bogucharovo. News of the approach\ +of the French came from all sides, and in one village, ten miles from\ +Bogucharovo, a homestead had been looted by French marauders.\ +\ +The doctor insisted on the necessity of moving the prince; the\ +provincial Marshal of the Nobility sent an official to Princess Mary to\ +persuade her to get away as quickly as possible, and the head of the\ +rural police having come to Bogucharovo urged the same thing, saying\ +that the French were only some twenty-five miles away, that French\ +proclamations were circulating in the villages, and that if the princess\ +did not take her father away before the fifteenth, he could not answer\ +for the consequences.\ +\ +The princess decided to leave on the fifteenth. The cares of preparation\ +and giving orders, for which everyone came to her, occupied her all day.\ +She spent the night of the fourteenth as usual, without undressing, in\ +the room next to the one where the prince lay. Several times, waking up,\ +she heard his groans and muttering, the creak of his bed, and the steps\ +of Tikhon and the doctor when they turned him over. Several times she\ +listened at the door, and it seemed to her that his mutterings were\ +louder than usual and that they turned him over oftener. She could not\ +sleep and several times went to the door and listened, wishing to enter\ +but not deciding to do so. Though he did not speak, Princess Mary saw\ +and knew how unpleasant every sign of anxiety on his account was to him.\ +She had noticed with what dissatisfaction he turned from the look she\ +sometimes involuntarily fixed on him. She knew that her going in during\ +the night at an unusual hour would irritate him.\ +\ +But never had she felt so grieved for him or so much afraid of losing\ +him. She recalled all her life with him and in every word and act of his\ +found an expression of his love of her. Occasionally amid these memories\ +temptations of the devil would surge into her imagination: thoughts of\ +how things would be after his death, and how her new, liberated life\ +would be ordered. But she drove these thoughts away with disgust. Toward\ +morning he became quiet and she fell asleep.\ +\ +She woke late. That sincerity which often comes with waking showed her\ +clearly what chiefly concerned her about her father's illness. On waking\ +she listened to what was going on behind the door and, hearing him\ +groan, said to herself with a sigh that things were still the same.\ +\ +"But what could have happened? What did I want? I want his death!" she\ +cried with a feeling of loathing for herself.\ +\ +She washed, dressed, said her prayers, and went out to the porch. In\ +front of it stood carriages without horses and things were being packed\ +into the vehicles.\ +\ +It was a warm, gray morning. Princess Mary stopped at the porch, still\ +horrified by her spiritual baseness and trying to arrange her thoughts\ +before going to her father. The doctor came downstairs and went out to\ +her.\ +\ +"He is a little better today," said he. "I was looking for you. One can\ +make out something of what he is saying. His head is clearer. Come in,\ +he is asking for you..."\ +\ +Princess Mary's heart beat so violently at this news that she grew pale\ +and leaned against the wall to keep from falling. To see him, talk to\ +him, feel his eyes on her now that her whole soul was overflowing with\ +those dreadful, wicked temptations, was a torment of joy and terror.\ +\ +"Come," said the doctor.\ +\ +Princess Mary entered her father's room and went up to his bed. He was\ +lying on his back propped up high, and his small bony hands with their\ +knotted purple veins were lying on the quilt; his left eye gazed\ +straight before him, his right eye was awry, and his brows and lips\ +motionless. He seemed altogether so thin, small, and pathetic. His face\ +seemed to have shriveled or melted; his features had grown smaller.\ +Princess Mary went up and kissed his hand. His left hand pressed hers so\ +that she understood that he had long been waiting for her to come. He\ +twitched her hand, and his brows and lips quivered angrily.\ +\ +She looked at him in dismay trying to guess what he wanted of her. When\ +she changed her position so that his left eye could see her face he\ +calmed down, not taking his eyes off her for some seconds. Then his lips\ +and tongue moved, sounds came, and he began to speak, gazing timidly and\ +imploringly at her, evidently afraid that she might not understand.\ +\ +Straining all her faculties Princess Mary looked at him. The comic\ +efforts with which he moved his tongue made her drop her eyes and with\ +difficulty repress the sobs that rose to her throat. He said something,\ +repeating the same words several times. She could not understand them,\ +but tried to guess what he was saying and inquiringly repeated the words\ +he uttered.\ +\ +"Mmm...ar...ate...ate..." he repeated several times.\ +\ +It was quite impossible to understand these sounds. The doctor thought\ +he had guessed them, and inquiringly repeated: "Mary, are you afraid?"\ +The prince shook his head, again repeated the same sounds.\ +\ +"My mind, my mind aches?" questioned Princess Mary.\ +\ +He made a mumbling sound in confirmation of this, took her hand, and\ +began pressing it to different parts of his breast as if trying to find\ +the right place for it.\ +\ +"Always thoughts... about you... thoughts..." he then uttered much more\ +clearly than he had done before, now that he was sure of being\ +understood.\ +\ +Princess Mary pressed her head against his hand, trying to hide her sobs\ +and tears.\ +\ +He moved his hand over her hair.\ +\ +"I have been calling you all night..." he brought out.\ +\ +"If only I had known..." she said through her tears. "I was afraid to\ +come in."\ +\ +He pressed her hand.\ +\ +"Weren't you asleep?"\ +\ +"No, I did not sleep," said Princess Mary, shaking her head.\ +\ +Unconsciously imitating her father, she now tried to express herself as\ +he did, as much as possible by signs, and her tongue too seemed to move\ +with difficulty.\ +\ +"Dear one... Dearest..." Princess Mary could not quite make out what he\ +had said, but from his look it was clear that he had uttered a tender\ +caressing word such as he had never used to her before. "Why didn't you\ +come in?"\ +\ +"And I was wishing for his death!" thought Princess Mary.\ +\ +He was silent awhile.\ +\ +"Thank you... daughter dear!... for all, for all... forgive!... thank\ +you!... forgive!... thank you!..." and tears began to flow from his\ +eyes. "Call Andrew!" he said suddenly, and a childish, timid expression\ +of doubt showed itself on his face as he spoke.\ +\ +He himself seemed aware that his demand was meaningless. So at least it\ +seemed to Princess Mary.\ +\ +"I have a letter from him," she replied.\ +\ +He glanced at her with timid surprise.\ +\ +"Where is he?"\ +\ +"He's with the army, Father, at Smolensk."\ +\ +He closed his eyes and remained silent a long time. Then as if in answer\ +to his doubts and to confirm the fact that now he understood and\ +remembered everything, he nodded his head and reopened his eyes.\ +\ +"Yes," he said, softly and distinctly. "Russia has perished. They've\ +destroyed her."\ +\ +And he began to sob, and again tears flowed from his eyes. Princess Mary\ +could no longer restrain herself and wept while she gazed at his face.\ +\ +Again he closed his eyes. His sobs ceased, he pointed to his eyes, and\ +Tikhon, understanding him, wiped away the tears.\ +\ +Then he again opened his eyes and said something none of them could\ +understand for a long time, till at last Tikhon understood and repeated\ +it. Princess Mary had sought the meaning of his words in the mood in\ +which he had just been speaking. She thought he was speaking of Russia,\ +or Prince Andrew, of herself, of his grandson, or of his own death, and\ +so she could not guess his words.\ +\ +"Put on your white dress. I like it," was what he said.\ +\ +Having understood this Princess Mary sobbed still louder, and the doctor\ +taking her arm led her out to the veranda, soothing her and trying to\ +persuade her to prepare for her journey. When she had left the room the\ +prince again began speaking about his son, about the war, and about the\ +Emperor, angrily twitching his brows and raising his hoarse voice, and\ +then he had a second and final stroke.\ +\ +Princess Mary stayed on the veranda. The day had cleared, it was hot and\ +sunny. She could understand nothing, think of nothing and feel nothing,\ +except passionate love for her father, love such as she thought she had\ +never felt till that moment. She ran out sobbing into the garden and as\ +far as the pond, along the avenues of young lime trees Prince Andrew had\ +planted.\ +\ +"Yes... I... I... I wished for his death! Yes, I wanted it to end\ +quicker.... I wished to be at peace.... And what will become of me? What\ +use will peace be when he is no longer here?" Princess Mary murmured,\ +pacing the garden with hurried steps and pressing her hands to her bosom\ +which heaved with convulsive sobs.\ +\ +When she had completed the tour of the garden, which brought her again\ +to the house, she saw Mademoiselle Bourienne--who had remained at\ +Bogucharovo and did not wish to leave it--coming toward her with a\ +stranger. This was the Marshal of the Nobility of the district, who had\ +come personally to point out to the princess the necessity for her\ +prompt departure. Princess Mary listened without understanding him; she\ +led him to the house, offered him lunch, and sat down with him. Then,\ +excusing herself, she went to the door of the old prince's room. The\ +doctor came out with an agitated face and said she could not enter.\ +\ +"Go away, Princess! Go away... go away!"\ +\ +She returned to the garden and sat down on the grass at the foot of the\ +slope by the pond, where no one could see her. She did not know how long\ +she had been there when she was aroused by the sound of a woman's\ +footsteps running along the path. She rose and saw Dunyasha her maid,\ +who was evidently looking for her, and who stopped suddenly as if in\ +alarm on seeing her mistress.\ +\ +"Please come, Princess... The Prince," said Dunyasha in a breaking\ +voice.\ +\ +"Immediately, I'm coming, I'm coming!" replied the princess hurriedly,\ +not giving Dunyasha time to finish what she was saying, and trying to\ +avoid seeing the girl she ran toward the house.\ +\ +"Princess, it's God's will! You must be prepared for everything," said\ +the Marshal, meeting her at the house door.\ +\ +"Let me alone; it's not true!" she cried angrily to him.\ +\ +The doctor tried to stop her. She pushed him aside and ran to her\ +father's door. "Why are these people with frightened faces stopping me?\ +I don't want any of them! And what are they doing here?" she thought.\ +She opened the door and the bright daylight in that previously darkened\ +room startled her. In the room were her nurse and other women. They all\ +drew back from the bed, making way for her. He was still lying on the\ +bed as before, but the stern expression of his quiet face made Princess\ +Mary stop short on the threshold.\ +\ +"No, he's not dead--it's impossible!" she told herself and approached\ +him, and repressing the terror that seized her, she pressed her lips to\ +his cheek. But she stepped back immediately. All the force of the\ +tenderness she had been feeling for him vanished instantly and was\ +replaced by a feeling of horror at what lay there before her. "No, he is\ +no more! He is not, but here where he was is something unfamiliar and\ +hostile, some dreadful, terrifying, and repellent mystery!" And hiding\ +her face in her hands, Princess Mary sank into the arms of the doctor,\ +who held her up.\ +\ +In the presence of Tikhon and the doctor the women washed what had been\ +the prince, tied his head up with a handkerchief that the mouth should\ +not stiffen while open, and with another handkerchief tied together the\ +legs that were already spreading apart. Then they dressed him in uniform\ +with his decorations and placed his shriveled little body on a table.\ +Heaven only knows who arranged all this and when, but it all got done as\ +if of its own accord. Toward night candles were burning round his\ +coffin, a pall was spread over it, the floor was strewn with sprays of\ +juniper, a printed band was tucked in under his shriveled head, and in a\ +corner of the room sat a chanter reading the psalms.\ +\ +Just as horses shy and snort and gather about a dead horse, so the\ +inmates of the house and strangers crowded into the drawing room round\ +the coffin--the Marshal, the village Elder, peasant women--and all with\ +fixed and frightened eyes, crossing themselves, bowed and kissed the old\ +prince's cold and stiffened hand.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER IX\ +\ +Until Prince Andrew settled in Bogucharovo its owners had always been\ +absentees, and its peasants were of quite a different character from\ +those of Bald Hills. They differed from them in speech, dress, and\ +disposition. They were called steppe peasants. The old prince used to\ +approve of them for their endurance at work when they came to Bald Hills\ +to help with the harvest or to dig ponds, and ditches, but he disliked\ +them for their boorishness.\ +\ +Prince Andrew's last stay at Bogucharovo, when he introduced hospitals\ +and schools and reduced the quitrent the peasants had to pay, had not\ +softened their disposition but had on the contrary strengthened in them\ +the traits of character the old prince called boorishness. Various\ +obscure rumors were always current among them: at one time a rumor that\ +they would all be enrolled as Cossacks; at another of a new religion to\ +which they were all to be converted; then of some proclamation of the\ +Tsar's and of an oath to the Tsar Paul in 1797 (in connection with which\ +it was rumored that freedom had been granted them but the landowners had\ +stopped it), then of Peter Fedorovich's return to the throne in seven\ +years' time, when everything would be made free and so "simple" that\ +there would be no restrictions. Rumors of the war with Bonaparte and his\ +invasion were connected in their minds with the same sort of vague\ +notions of Antichrist, the end of the world, and "pure freedom."\ +\ +In the vicinity of Bogucharovo were large villages belonging to the\ +crown or to owners whose serfs paid quitrent and could work where they\ +pleased. There were very few resident landlords in the neighborhood and\ +also very few domestic or literate serfs, and in the lives of the\ +peasantry of those parts the mysterious undercurrents in the life of the\ +Russian people, the causes and meaning of which are so baffling to\ +contemporaries, were more clearly and strongly noticeable than among\ +others. One instance, which had occurred some twenty years before, was a\ +movement among the peasants to emigrate to some unknown "warm rivers."\ +Hundreds of peasants, among them the Bogucharovo folk, suddenly began\ +selling their cattle and moving in whole families toward the southeast.\ +As birds migrate to somewhere beyond the sea, so these men with their\ +wives and children streamed to the southeast, to parts where none of\ +them had ever been. They set off in caravans, bought their freedom one\ +by one or ran away, and drove or walked toward the "warm rivers." Many\ +of them were punished, some sent to Siberia, many died of cold and\ +hunger on the road, many returned of their own accord, and the movement\ +died down of itself just as it had sprung up, without apparent reason.\ +But such undercurrents still existed among the people and gathered new\ +forces ready to manifest themselves just as strangely, unexpectedly, and\ +at the same time simply, naturally, and forcibly. Now in 1812, to anyone\ +living in close touch with these people it was apparent that these\ +undercurrents were acting strongly and nearing an eruption.\ +\ +Alpatych, who had reached Bogucharovo shortly before the old prince's\ +death, noticed an agitation among the peasants, and that contrary to\ +what was happening in the Bald Hills district, where over a radius of\ +forty miles all the peasants were moving away and leaving their villages\ +to be devastated by the Cossacks, the peasants in the steppe region\ +round Bogucharovo were, it was rumored, in touch with the French,\ +received leaflets from them that passed from hand to hand, and did not\ +migrate. He learned from domestic serfs loyal to him that the peasant\ +Karp, who possessed great influence in the village commune and had\ +recently been away driving a government transport, had returned with\ +news that the Cossacks were destroying deserted villages, but that the\ +French did not harm them. Alpatych also knew that on the previous day\ +another peasant had even brought from the village of Visloukhovo, which\ +was occupied by the French, a proclamation by a French general that no\ +harm would be done to the inhabitants, and if they remained they would\ +be paid for anything taken from them. As proof of this the peasant had\ +brought from Visloukhovo a hundred rubles in notes (he did not know that\ +they were false) paid to him in advance for hay.\ +\ +More important still, Alpatych learned that on the morning of the very\ +day he gave the village Elder orders to collect carts to move the\ +princess' luggage from Bogucharovo, there had been a village meeting at\ +which it had been decided not to move but to wait. Yet there was no time\ +to waste. On the fifteenth, the day of the old prince's death, the\ +Marshal had insisted on Princess Mary's leaving at once, as it was\ +becoming dangerous. He had told her that after the sixteenth he could\ +not be responsible for what might happen. On the evening of the day the\ +old prince died the Marshal went away, promising to return next day for\ +the funeral. But this he was unable to do, for he received tidings that\ +the French had unexpectedly advanced, and had barely time to remove his\ +own family and valuables from his estate.\ +\ +For some thirty years Bogucharovo had been managed by the village Elder,\ +Dron, whom the old prince called by the diminutive "Dronushka."\ +\ +Dron was one of those physically and mentally vigorous peasants who grow\ +big beards as soon as they are of age and go on unchanged till they are\ +sixty or seventy, without a gray hair or the loss of a tooth, as\ +straight and strong at sixty as at thirty.\ +\ +Soon after the migration to the "warm rivers," in which he had taken\ +part like the rest, Dron was made village Elder and overseer of\ +Bogucharovo, and had since filled that post irreproachably for twenty-\ +three years. The peasants feared him more than they did their master.\ +The masters, both the old prince and the young, and the steward\ +respected him and jestingly called him "the Minister." During the whole\ +time of his service Dron had never been drunk or ill, never after\ +sleepless nights or the hardest tasks had he shown the least fatigue,\ +and though he could not read he had never forgotten a single money\ +account or the number of quarters of flour in any of the endless\ +cartloads he sold for the prince, nor a single shock of the whole corn\ +crop on any single acre of the Bogucharovo fields.\ +\ +Alpatych, arriving from the devastated Bald Hills estate, sent for his\ +Dron on the day of the prince's funeral and told him to have twelve\ +horses got ready for the princess' carriages and eighteen carts for the\ +things to be removed from Bogucharovo. Though the peasants paid\ +quitrent, Alpatych thought no difficulty would be made about complying\ +with this order, for there were two hundred and thirty households at\ +work in Bogucharovo and the peasants were well to do. But on hearing the\ +order Dron lowered his eyes and remained silent. Alpatych named certain\ +peasants he knew, from whom he told him to take the carts.\ +\ +Dron replied that the horses of these peasants were away carting.\ +Alpatych named others, but they too, according to Dron, had no horses\ +available: some horses were carting for the government, others were too\ +weak, and others had died for want of fodder. It seemed that no horses\ +could be had even for the carriages, much less for the carting.\ +\ +Alpatych looked intently at Dron and frowned. Just as Dron was a model\ +village Elder, so Alpatych had not managed the prince's estates for\ +twenty years in vain. He was a model steward, possessing in the highest\ +degree the faculty of divining the needs and instincts of those he dealt\ +with. Having glanced at Dron he at once understood that his answers did\ +not express his personal views but the general mood of the Bogucharovo\ +commune, by which the Elder had already been carried away. But he also\ +knew that Dron, who had acquired property and was hated by the commune,\ +must be hesitating between the two camps: the masters' and the serfs'.\ +He noticed this hesitation in Dron's look and therefore frowned and\ +moved closer up to him.\ +\ +"Now just listen, Dronushka," said he. "Don't talk nonsense to me. His\ +excellency Prince Andrew himself gave me orders to move all the people\ +away and not leave them with the enemy, and there is an order from the\ +Tsar about it too. Anyone who stays is a traitor to the Tsar. Do you\ +hear?"\ +\ +"I hear," Dron answered without lifting his eyes.\ +\ +Alpatych was not satisfied with this reply.\ +\ +"Eh, Dron, it will turn out badly!" he said, shaking his head.\ +\ +"The power is in your hands," Dron rejoined sadly.\ +\ +"Eh, Dron, drop it!" Alpatych repeated, withdrawing his hand from his\ +bosom and solemnly pointing to the floor at Dron's feet. "I can see\ +through you and three yards into the ground under you," he continued,\ +gazing at the floor in front of Dron.\ +\ +Dron was disconcerted, glanced furtively at Alpatych and again lowered\ +his eyes.\ +\ +"You drop this nonsense and tell the people to get ready to leave their\ +homes and go to Moscow and to get carts ready for tomorrow morning for\ +the princess' things. And don't go to any meeting yourself, do you\ +hear?"\ +\ +Dron suddenly fell on his knees.\ +\ +"Yakov Alpatych, discharge me! Take the keys from me and discharge me,\ +for Christ's sake!"\ +\ +"Stop that!" cried Alpatych sternly. "I see through you and three yards\ +under you," he repeated, knowing that his skill in beekeeping, his\ +knowledge of the right time to sow the oats, and the fact that he had\ +been able to retain the old prince's favor for twenty years had long\ +since gained him the reputation of being a wizard, and that the power of\ +seeing three yards under a man is considered an attribute of wizards.\ +\ +Dron got up and was about to say something, but Alpatych interrupted\ +him.\ +\ +"What is it you have got into your heads, eh?... What are you thinking\ +of, eh?"\ +\ +"What am I to do with the people?" said Dron. "They're quite beside\ +themselves; I have already told them..."\ +\ +"'Told them,' I dare say!" said Alpatych. "Are they drinking?" he asked\ +abruptly.\ +\ +"Quite beside themselves, Yakov Alpatych; they've fetched another\ +barrel."\ +\ +"Well, then, listen! I'll go to the police officer, and you tell them\ +so, and that they must stop this and the carts must be got ready."\ +\ +"I understand."\ +\ +Alpatych did not insist further. He had managed people for a long time\ +and knew that the chief way to make them obey is to show no suspicion\ +that they can possibly disobey. Having wrung a submissive "I understand"\ +from Dron, Alpatych contented himself with that, though he not only\ +doubted but felt almost certain that without the help of troops the\ +carts would not be forthcoming.\ +\ +And so it was, for when evening came no carts had been provided. In the\ +village, outside the drink shop, another meeting was being held, which\ +decided that the horses should be driven out into the woods and the\ +carts should not be provided. Without saying anything of this to the\ +princess, Alpatych had his own belongings taken out of the carts which\ +had arrived from Bald Hills and had those horses got ready for the\ +princess' carriages. Meanwhile he went himself to the police\ +authorities.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER X\ +\ +After her father's funeral Princess Mary shut herself up in her room and\ +did not admit anyone. A maid came to the door to say that Alpatych was\ +asking for orders about their departure. (This was before his talk with\ +Dron.) Princess Mary raised herself on the sofa on which she had been\ +lying and replied through the closed door that she did not mean to go\ +away and begged to be left in peace.\ +\ +The windows of the room in which she was lying looked westward. She lay\ +on the sofa with her face to the wall, fingering the buttons of the\ +leather cushion and seeing nothing but that cushion, and her confused\ +thoughts were centered on one subject--the irrevocability of death and\ +her own spiritual baseness, which she had not suspected, but which had\ +shown itself during her father's illness. She wished to pray but did not\ +dare to, dared not in her present state of mind address herself to God.\ +She lay for a long time in that position.\ +\ +The sun had reached the other side of the house, and its slanting rays\ +shone into the open window, lighting up the room and part of the morocco\ +cushion at which Princess Mary was looking. The flow of her thoughts\ +suddenly stopped. Unconsciously she sat up, smoothed her hair, got up,\ +and went to the window, involuntarily inhaling the freshness of the\ +clear but windy evening.\ +\ +"Yes, you can well enjoy the evening now! He is gone and no one will\ +hinder you," she said to herself, and sinking into a chair she let her\ +head fall on the window sill.\ +\ +Someone spoke her name in a soft and tender voice from the garden and\ +kissed her head. She looked up. It was Mademoiselle Bourienne in a black\ +dress and weepers. She softly approached Princess Mary, sighed, kissed\ +her, and immediately began to cry. The princess looked up at her. All\ +their former disharmony and her own jealousy recurred to her mind. But\ +she remembered too how he had changed of late toward Mademoiselle\ +Bourienne and could not bear to see her, thereby showing how unjust were\ +the reproaches Princess Mary had mentally addressed to her. "Besides, is\ +it for me, for me who desired his death, to condemn anyone?" she\ +thought.\ +\ +Princess Mary vividly pictured to herself the position of Mademoiselle\ +Bourienne, whom she had of late kept at a distance, but who yet was\ +dependent on her and living in her house. She felt sorry for her and\ +held out her hand with a glance of gentle inquiry. Mademoiselle\ +Bourienne at once began crying again and kissed that hand, speaking of\ +the princess' sorrow and making herself a partner in it. She said her\ +only consolation was the fact that the princess allowed her to share her\ +sorrow, that all the old misunderstandings should sink into nothing but\ +this great grief; that she felt herself blameless in regard to everyone,\ +and that he, from above, saw her affection and gratitude. The princess\ +heard her, not heeding her words but occasionally looking up at her and\ +listening to the sound of her voice.\ +\ +"Your position is doubly terrible, dear princess," said Mademoiselle\ +Bourienne after a pause. "I understand that you could not, and cannot,\ +think of yourself, but with my love for you I must do so.... Has\ +Alpatych been to you? Has he spoken to you of going away?" she asked.\ +\ +Princess Mary did not answer. She did not understand who was to go or\ +where to. "Is it possible to plan or think of anything now? Is it not\ +all the same?" she thought, and did not reply.\ +\ +"You know, chere Marie," said Mademoiselle Bourienne, "that we are in\ +danger--are surrounded by the French. It would be dangerous to move now.\ +If we go we are almost sure to be taken prisoners, and God knows..."\ +\ +Princess Mary looked at her companion without understanding what she was\ +talking about.\ +\ +"Oh, if anyone knew how little anything matters to me now," she said.\ +"Of course I would on no account wish to go away from him.... Alpatych\ +did say something about going.... Speak to him; I can do nothing,\ +nothing, and don't want to...."\ +\ +"I've spoken to him. He hopes we should be in time to get away tomorrow,\ +but I think it would now be better to stay here," said Mademoiselle\ +Bourienne. "Because, you will agree, chere Marie, to fall into the hands\ +of the soldiers or of riotous peasants would be terrible."\ +\ +Mademoiselle Bourienne took from her reticule a proclamation (not\ +printed on ordinary Russian paper) of General Rameau's, telling people\ +not to leave their homes and that the French authorities would afford\ +them proper protection. She handed this to the princess.\ +\ +"I think it would be best to appeal to that general," she continued,\ +"and I am sure that all due respect would be shown you."\ +\ +Princess Mary read the paper, and her face began to quiver with stifled\ +sobs.\ +\ +"From whom did you get this?" she asked.\ +\ +"They probably recognized that I am French, by my name," replied\ +Mademoiselle Bourienne blushing.\ +\ +Princess Mary, with the paper in her hand, rose from the window and with\ +a pale face went out of the room and into what had been Prince Andrew's\ +study.\ +\ +"Dunyasha, send Alpatych, or Dronushka, or somebody to me!" she said,\ +"and tell Mademoiselle Bourienne not to come to me," she added, hearing\ +Mademoiselle Bourienne's voice. "We must go at once, at once!" she said,\ +appalled at the thought of being left in the hands of the French.\ +\ +"If Prince Andrew heard that I was in the power of the French! That I,\ +the daughter of Prince Nicholas Bolkonski, asked General Rameau for\ +protection and accepted his favor!" This idea horrified her, made her\ +shudder, blush, and feel such a rush of anger and pride as she had never\ +experienced before. All that was distressing, and especially all that\ +was humiliating, in her position rose vividly to her mind. "They, the\ +French, would settle in this house: M. le General Rameau would occupy\ +Prince Andrew's study and amuse himself by looking through and reading\ +his letters and papers. Mademoiselle Bourienne would do the honors of\ +Bogucharovo for him. I should be given a small room as a favor, the\ +soldiers would violate my father's newly dug grave to steal his crosses\ +and stars, they would tell me of their victories over the Russians, and\ +would pretend to sympathize with my sorrow..." thought Princess Mary,\ +not thinking her own thoughts but feeling bound to think like her father\ +and her brother. For herself she did not care where she remained or what\ +happened to her, but she felt herself the representative of her dead\ +father and of Prince Andrew. Involuntarily she thought their thoughts\ +and felt their feelings. What they would have said and what they would\ +have done she felt bound to say and do. She went into Prince Andrew's\ +study, trying to enter completely into his ideas, and considered her\ +position.\ +\ +The demands of life, which had seemed to her annihilated by her father's\ +death, all at once rose before her with a new, previously unknown force\ +and took possession of her.\ +\ +Agitated and flushed she paced the room, sending now for Michael\ +Ivanovich and now for Tikhon or Dron. Dunyasha, the nurse, and the other\ +maids could not say in how far Mademoiselle Bourienne's statement was\ +correct. Alpatych was not at home, he had gone to the police. Neither\ +could the architect Michael Ivanovich, who on being sent for came in\ +with sleepy eyes, tell Princess Mary anything. With just the same smile\ +of agreement with which for fifteen years he had been accustomed to\ +answer the old prince without expressing views of his own, he now\ +replied to Princess Mary, so that nothing definite could be got from his\ +answers. The old valet Tikhon, with sunken, emaciated face that bore the\ +stamp of inconsolable grief, replied: "Yes, Princess" to all Princess\ +Mary's questions and hardly refrained from sobbing as he looked at her.\ +\ +At length Dron, the village Elder, entered the room and with a deep bow\ +to Princess Mary came to a halt by the doorpost.\ +\ +Princess Mary walked up and down the room and stopped in front of him.\ +\ +"Dronushka," she said, regarding as a sure friend this Dronushka who\ +always used to bring a special kind of gingerbread from his visit to the\ +fair at Vyazma every year and smilingly offer it to her, "Dronushka, now\ +since our misfortune..." she began, but could not go on.\ +\ +"We are all in God's hands," said he, with a sigh.\ +\ +They were silent for a while.\ +\ +"Dronushka, Alpatych has gone off somewhere and I have no one to turn\ +to. Is it true, as they tell me, that I can't even go away?"\ +\ +"Why shouldn't you go away, your excellency? You can go," said Dron.\ +\ +"I was told it would be dangerous because of the enemy. Dear friend, I\ +can do nothing. I understand nothing. I have nobody! I want to go away\ +tonight or early tomorrow morning."\ +\ +Dron paused. He looked askance at Princess Mary and said: "There are no\ +horses; I told Yakov Alpatych so."\ +\ +"Why are there none?" asked the princess.\ +\ +"It's all God's scourge," said Dron. "What horses we had have been taken\ +for the army or have died--this is such a year! It's not a case of\ +feeding horses--we may die of hunger ourselves! As it is, some go three\ +days without eating. We've nothing, we've been ruined."\ +\ +Princess Mary listened attentively to what he told her.\ +\ +"The peasants are ruined? They have no bread?" she asked.\ +\ +"They're dying of hunger," said Dron. "It's not a case of carting."\ +\ +"But why didn't you tell me, Dronushka? Isn't it possible to help them?\ +I'll do all I can...."\ +\ +To Princess Mary it was strange that now, at a moment when such sorrow\ +was filling her soul, there could be rich people and poor, and the rich\ +could refrain from helping the poor. She had heard vaguely that there\ +was such a thing as "landlord's corn" which was sometimes given to the\ +peasants. She also knew that neither her father nor her brother would\ +refuse to help the peasants in need, she only feared to make some\ +mistake in speaking about the distribution of the grain she wished to\ +give. She was glad such cares presented themselves, enabling her without\ +scruple to forget her own grief. She began asking Dron about the\ +peasants' needs and what there was in Bogucharovo that belonged to the\ +landlord.\ +\ +"But we have grain belonging to my brother?" she said.\ +\ +"The landlord's grain is all safe," replied Dron proudly. "Our prince\ +did not order it to be sold."\ +\ +"Give it to the peasants, let them have all they need; I give you leave\ +in my brother's name," said she.\ +\ +Dron made no answer but sighed deeply.\ +\ +"Give them that corn if there is enough of it. Distribute it all. I give\ +this order in my brother's name; and tell them that what is ours is\ +theirs. We do not grudge them anything. Tell them so."\ +\ +Dron looked intently at the princess while she was speaking.\ +\ +"Discharge me, little mother, for God's sake! Order the keys to be taken\ +from me," said he. "I have served twenty-three years and have done no\ +wrong. Discharge me, for God's sake!"\ +\ +Princess Mary did not understand what he wanted of her or why he was\ +asking to be discharged. She replied that she had never doubted his\ +devotion and that she was ready to do anything for him and for the\ +peasants.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XI\ +\ +An hour later Dunyasha came to tell the princess that Dron had come, and\ +all the peasants had assembled at the barn by the princess' order and\ +wished to have word with their mistress.\ +\ +"But I never told them to come," said Princess Mary. "I only told Dron\ +to let them have the grain."\ +\ +"Only, for God's sake, Princess dear, have them sent away and don't go\ +out to them. It's all a trick," said Dunyasha, "and when Yakov Alpatych\ +returns let us get away... and please don't..."\ +\ +"What is a trick?" asked Princess Mary in surprise.\ +\ +"I know it is, only listen to me for God's sake! Ask nurse too. They say\ +they don't agree to leave Bogucharovo as you ordered."\ +\ +"You're making some mistake. I never ordered them to go away," said\ +Princess Mary. "Call Dronushka."\ +\ +Dron came and confirmed Dunyasha's words; the peasants had come by the\ +princess' order.\ +\ +"But I never sent for them," declared the princess. "You must have given\ +my message wrong. I only said that you were to give them the grain."\ +\ +Dron only sighed in reply.\ +\ +"If you order it they will go away," said he.\ +\ +"No, no. I'll go out to them," said Princess Mary, and in spite of the\ +nurse's and Dunyasha's protests she went out into the porch; Dron,\ +Dunyasha, the nurse, and Michael Ivanovich following her.\ +\ +"They probably think I am offering them the grain to bribe them to\ +remain here, while I myself go away leaving them to the mercy of the\ +French," thought Princess Mary. "I will offer them monthly rations and\ +housing at our Moscow estate. I am sure Andrew would do even more in my\ +place," she thought as she went out in the twilight toward the crowd\ +standing on the pasture by the barn.\ +\ +The men crowded closer together, stirred, and rapidly took off their\ +hats. Princess Mary lowered her eyes and, tripping over her skirt, came\ +close up to them. So many different eyes, old and young, were fixed on\ +her, and there were so many different faces, that she could not\ +distinguish any of them and, feeling that she must speak to them all at\ +once, did not know how to do it. But again the sense that she\ +represented her father and her brother gave her courage, and she boldly\ +began her speech.\ +\ +"I am very glad you have come," she said without raising her eyes, and\ +feeling her heart beating quickly and violently. "Dronushka tells me\ +that the war has ruined you. That is our common misfortune, and I shall\ +grudge nothing to help you. I am myself going away because it is\ +dangerous here... the enemy is near... because... I am giving you\ +everything, my friends, and I beg you to take everything, all our grain,\ +so that you may not suffer want! And if you have been told that I am\ +giving you the grain to keep you here--that is not true. On the\ +contrary, I ask you to go with all your belongings to our estate near\ +Moscow, and I promise you I will see to it that there you shall want for\ +nothing. You shall be given food and lodging."\ +\ +The princess stopped. Sighs were the only sound heard in the crowd.\ +\ +"I am not doing this on my own account," she continued, "I do it in the\ +name of my dead father, who was a good master to you, and of my brother\ +and his son."\ +\ +Again she paused. No one broke the silence.\ +\ +"Ours is a common misfortune and we will share it together. All that is\ +mine is yours," she concluded, scanning the faces before her.\ +\ +All eyes were gazing at her with one and the same expression. She could\ +not fathom whether it was curiosity, devotion, gratitude, or\ +apprehension and distrust--but the expression on all the faces was\ +identical.\ +\ +"We are all very thankful for your bounty, but it won't do for us to\ +take the landlord's grain," said a voice at the back of the crowd.\ +\ +"But why not?" asked the princess.\ +\ +No one replied and Princess Mary, looking round at the crowd, found that\ +every eye she met now was immediately dropped.\ +\ +"But why don't you want to take it?" she asked again.\ +\ +No one answered.\ +\ +The silence began to oppress the princess and she tried to catch\ +someone's eye.\ +\ +"Why don't you speak?" she inquired of a very old man who stood just in\ +front of her leaning on his stick. "If you think something more is\ +wanted, tell me! I will do anything," said she, catching his eye.\ +\ +But as if this angered him, he bent his head quite low and muttered:\ +\ +"Why should we agree? We don't want the grain."\ +\ +"Why should we give up everything? We don't agree. Don't agree.... We\ +are sorry for you, but we're not willing. Go away yourself, alone..."\ +came from various sides of the crowd.\ +\ +And again all the faces in that crowd bore an identical expression,\ +though now it was certainly not an expression of curiosity or gratitude,\ +but of angry resolve.\ +\ +"But you can't have understood me," said Princess Mary with a sad smile.\ +"Why don't you want to go? I promise to house and feed you, while here\ +the enemy would ruin you..."\ +\ +But her voice was drowned by the voices of the crowd.\ +\ +"We're not willing. Let them ruin us! We won't take your grain. We don't\ +agree."\ +\ +Again Princess Mary tried to catch someone's eye, but not a single eye\ +in the crowd was turned to her; evidently they were all trying to avoid\ +her look. She felt strange and awkward.\ +\ +"Oh yes, an artful tale! Follow her into slavery! Pull down your houses\ +and go into bondage! I dare say! 'I'll give you grain, indeed!' she\ +says," voices in the crowd were heard saying.\ +\ +With drooping head Princess Mary left the crowd and went back to the\ +house. Having repeated her order to Dron to have horses ready for her\ +departure next morning, she went to her room and remained alone with her\ +own thoughts.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XII\ +\ +For a long time that night Princess Mary sat by the open window of her\ +room hearing the sound of the peasants' voices that reached her from the\ +village, but it was not of them she was thinking. She felt that she\ +could not understand them however much she might think about them. She\ +thought only of one thing, her sorrow, which, after the break caused by\ +cares for the present, seemed already to belong to the past. Now she\ +could remember it and weep or pray.\ +\ +After sunset the wind had dropped. The night was calm and fresh. Toward\ +midnight the voices began to subside, a cock crowed, the full moon began\ +to show from behind the lime trees, a fresh white dewy mist began to\ +rise, and stillness reigned over the village and the house.\ +\ +Pictures of the near past--her father's illness and last moments--rose\ +one after another to her memory. With mournful pleasure she now lingered\ +over these images, repelling with horror only the last one, the picture\ +of his death, which she felt she could not contemplate even in\ +imagination at this still and mystic hour of night. And these pictures\ +presented themselves to her so clearly and in such detail that they\ +seemed now present, now past, and now future.\ +\ +She vividly recalled the moment when he had his first stroke and was\ +being dragged along by his armpits through the garden at Bald Hills,\ +muttering something with his helpless tongue, twitching his gray\ +eyebrows and looking uneasily and timidly at her.\ +\ +"Even then he wanted to tell me what he told me the day he died," she\ +thought. "He had always thought what he said then." And she recalled in\ +all its detail the night at Bald Hills before he had the last stroke,\ +when with a foreboding of disaster she had remained at home against his\ +will. She had not slept and had stolen downstairs on tiptoe, and going\ +to the door of the conservatory where he slept that night had listened\ +at the door. In a suffering and weary voice he was saying something to\ +Tikhon, speaking of the Crimea and its warm nights and of the Empress.\ +Evidently he had wanted to talk. "And why didn't he call me? Why didn't\ +he let me be there instead of Tikhon?" Princess Mary had thought and\ +thought again now. "Now he will never tell anyone what he had in his\ +soul. Never will that moment return for him or for me when he might have\ +said all he longed to say, and not Tikhon but I might have heard and\ +understood him. Why didn't I enter the room?" she thought. "Perhaps he\ +would then have said to me what he said the day he died. While talking\ +to Tikhon he asked about me twice. He wanted to see me, and I was\ +standing close by, outside the door. It was sad and painful for him to\ +talk to Tikhon who did not understand him. I remember how he began\ +speaking to him about Lise as if she were alive--he had forgotten she\ +was dead--and Tikhon reminded him that she was no more, and he shouted,\ +'Fool!' He was greatly depressed. From behind the door I heard how he\ +lay down on his bed groaning and loudly exclaimed, 'My God!' Why didn't\ +I go in then? What could he have done to me? What could I have lost? And\ +perhaps he would then have been comforted and would have said that word\ +to me." And Princess Mary uttered aloud the caressing word he had said\ +to her on the day of his death. "Dear-est!" she repeated, and began\ +sobbing, with tears that relieved her soul. She now saw his face before\ +her. And not the face she had known ever since she could remember and\ +had always seen at a distance, but the timid, feeble face she had seen\ +for the first time quite closely, with all its wrinkles and details,\ +when she stooped near to his mouth to catch what he said.\ +\ +"Dear-est!" she repeated again.\ +\ +"What was he thinking when he uttered that word? What is he thinking\ +now?" This question suddenly presented itself to her, and in answer she\ +saw him before her with the expression that was on his face as he lay in\ +his coffin with his chin bound up with a white handkerchief. And the\ +horror that had seized her when she touched him and convinced herself\ +that that was not he, but something mysterious and horrible, seized her\ +again. She tried to think of something else and to pray, but could do\ +neither. With wide-open eyes she gazed at the moonlight and the shadows,\ +expecting every moment to see his dead face, and she felt that the\ +silence brooding over the house and within it held her fast.\ +\ +"Dunyasha," she whispered. "Dunyasha!" she screamed wildly, and tearing\ +herself out of this silence she ran to the servants' quarters to meet\ +her old nurse and the maidservants who came running toward her.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XIII\ +\ +On the seventeenth of August Rostov and Ilyin, accompanied by Lavrushka\ +who had just returned from captivity and by an hussar orderly, left\ +their quarters at Yankovo, ten miles from Bogucharovo, and went for a\ +ride--to try a new horse Ilyin had bought and to find out whether there\ +was any hay to be had in the villages.\ +\ +For the last three days Bogucharovo had lain between the two hostile\ +armies, so that it was as easy for the Russian rearguard to get to it as\ +for the French vanguard; Rostov, as a careful squadron commander, wished\ +to take such provisions as remained at Bogucharovo before the French\ +could get them.\ +\ +Rostov and Ilyin were in the merriest of moods. On the way to\ +Bogucharovo, a princely estate with a dwelling house and farm where they\ +hoped to find many domestic serfs and pretty girls, they questioned\ +Lavrushka about Napoleon and laughed at his stories, and raced one\ +another to try Ilyin's horse.\ +\ +Rostov had no idea that the village he was entering was the property of\ +that very Bolkonski who had been engaged to his sister.\ +\ +Rostov and Ilyin gave rein to their horses for a last race along the\ +incline before reaching Bogucharovo, and Rostov, outstripping Ilyin, was\ +the first to gallop into the village street.\ +\ +"You're first!" cried Ilyin, flushed.\ +\ +"Yes, always first both on the grassland and here," answered Rostov,\ +stroking his heated Donets horse.\ +\ +"And I'd have won on my Frenchy, your excellency," said Lavrushka from\ +behind, alluding to his shabby cart horse, "only I didn't wish to\ +mortify you."\ +\ +They rode at a footpace to the barn, where a large crowd of peasants was\ +standing.\ +\ +Some of the men bared their heads, others stared at the new arrivals\ +without doffing their caps. Two tall old peasants with wrinkled faces\ +and scanty beards emerged from the tavern, smiling, staggering, and\ +singing some incoherent song, and approached the officers.\ +\ +"Fine fellows!" said Rostov laughing. "Is there any hay here?"\ +\ +"And how like one another," said Ilyin.\ +\ +"A mo-o-st me-r-r-y co-o-m-pa...!" sang one of the peasants with a\ +blissful smile.\ +\ +One of the men came out of the crowd and went up to Rostov.\ +\ +"Who do you belong to?" he asked.\ +\ +"The French," replied Ilyin jestingly, "and here is Napoleon himself"--\ +and he pointed to Lavrushka.\ +\ +"Then you are Russians?" the peasant asked again.\ +\ +"And is there a large force of you here?" said another, a short man,\ +coming up.\ +\ +"Very large," answered Rostov. "But why have you collected here?" he\ +added. "Is it a holiday?"\ +\ +"The old men have met to talk over the business of the commune," replied\ +the peasant, moving away.\ +\ +At that moment, on the road leading from the big house, two women and a\ +man in a white hat were seen coming toward the officers.\ +\ +"The one in pink is mine, so keep off!" said Ilyin on seeing Dunyasha\ +running resolutely toward him.\ +\ +"She'll be ours!" said Lavrushka to Ilyin, winking.\ +\ +"What do you want, my pretty?" said Ilyin with a smile.\ +\ +"The princess ordered me to ask your regiment and your name."\ +\ +"This is Count Rostov, squadron commander, and I am your humble\ +servant."\ +\ +"Co-o-om-pa-ny!" roared the tipsy peasant with a beatific smile as he\ +looked at Ilyin talking to the girl. Following Dunyasha, Alpatych\ +advanced to Rostov, having bared his head while still at a distance.\ +\ +"May I make bold to trouble your honor?" said he respectfully, but with\ +a shade of contempt for the youthfulness of this officer and with a hand\ +thrust into his bosom. "My mistress, daughter of General in Chief Prince\ +Nicholas Bolkonski who died on the fifteenth of this month, finding\ +herself in difficulties owing to the boorishness of these people"--he\ +pointed to the peasants--"asks you to come up to the house.... Won't\ +you, please, ride on a little farther," said Alpatych with a melancholy\ +smile, "as it is not convenient in the presence of...?" He pointed to\ +the two peasants who kept as close to him as horseflies to a horse.\ +\ +"Ah!... Alpatych... Ah, Yakov Alpatych... Grand! Forgive us for Christ's\ +sake, eh?" said the peasants, smiling joyfully at him.\ +\ +Rostov looked at the tipsy peasants and smiled.\ +\ +"Or perhaps they amuse your honor?" remarked Alpatych with a staid air,\ +as he pointed at the old men with his free hand.\ +\ +"No, there's not much to be amused at here," said Rostov, and rode on a\ +little way. "What's the matter?" he asked.\ +\ +"I make bold to inform your honor that the rude peasants here don't wish\ +to let the mistress leave the estate, and threaten to unharness her\ +horses, so that though everything has been packed up since morning, her\ +excellency cannot get away."\ +\ +"Impossible!" exclaimed Rostov.\ +\ +"I have the honor to report to you the actual truth," said Alpatych.\ +\ +Rostov dismounted, gave his horse to the orderly, and followed Alpatych\ +to the house, questioning him as to the state of affairs. It appeared\ +that the princess' offer of corn to the peasants the previous day, and\ +her talk with Dron and at the meeting, had actually had so bad an effect\ +that Dron had finally given up the keys and joined the peasants and had\ +not appeared when Alpatych sent for him; and that in the morning when\ +the princess gave orders to harness for her journey, the peasants had\ +come in a large crowd to the barn and sent word that they would not let\ +her leave the village: that there was an order not to move, and that\ +they would unharness the horses. Alpatych had gone out to admonish them,\ +but was told (it was chiefly Karp who did the talking, Dron not showing\ +himself in the crowd) that they could not let the princess go, that\ +there was an order to the contrary, but that if she stayed they would\ +serve her as before and obey her in everything.\ +\ +At the moment when Rostov and Ilyin were galloping along the road,\ +Princess Mary, despite the dissuasions of Alpatych, her nurse, and the\ +maids, had given orders to harness and intended to start, but when the\ +cavalrymen were espied they were taken for Frenchmen, the coachman ran\ +away, and the women in the house began to wail.\ +\ +"Father! Benefactor! God has sent you!" exclaimed deeply moved voices as\ +Rostov passed through the anteroom.\ +\ +Princess Mary was sitting helpless and bewildered in the large sitting\ +room, when Rostov was shown in. She could not grasp who he was and why\ +he had come, or what was happening to her. When she saw his Russian\ +face, and by his walk and the first words he uttered recognized him as a\ +man of her own class, she glanced at him with her deep radiant look and\ +began speaking in a voice that faltered and trembled with emotion. This\ +meeting immediately struck Rostov as a romantic event. "A helpless girl\ +overwhelmed with grief, left to the mercy of coarse, rioting peasants!\ +And what a strange fate sent me here! What gentleness and nobility there\ +are in her features and expression!" thought he as he looked at her and\ +listened to her timid story.\ +\ +When she began to tell him that all this had happened the day after her\ +father's funeral, her voice trembled. She turned away, and then, as if\ +fearing he might take her words as meant to move him to pity, looked at\ +him with an apprehensive glance of inquiry. There were tears in Rostov's\ +eyes. Princess Mary noticed this and glanced gratefully at him with that\ +radiant look which caused the plainness of her face to be forgotten.\ +\ +"I cannot express, Princess, how glad I am that I happened to ride here\ +and am able to show my readiness to serve you," said Rostov, rising. "Go\ +when you please, and I give you my word of honor that no one shall dare\ +to cause you annoyance if only you will allow me to act as your escort."\ +And bowing respectfully, as if to a lady of royal blood, he moved toward\ +the door.\ +\ +Rostov's deferential tone seemed to indicate that though he would\ +consider himself happy to be acquainted with her, he did not wish to\ +take advantage of her misfortunes to intrude upon her.\ +\ +Princess Mary understood this and appreciated his delicacy.\ +\ +"I am very, very grateful to you," she said in French, "but I hope it\ +was all a misunderstanding and that no one is to blame for it." She\ +suddenly began to cry.\ +\ +"Excuse me!" she said.\ +\ +Rostov, knitting his brows, left the room with another low bow.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XIV\ +\ +"Well, is she pretty? Ah, friend--my pink one is delicious; her name is\ +Dunyasha...."\ +\ +But on glancing at Rostov's face Ilyin stopped short. He saw that his\ +hero and commander was following quite a different train of thought.\ +\ +Rostov glanced angrily at Ilyin and without replying strode off with\ +rapid steps to the village.\ +\ +"I'll show them; I'll give it to them, the brigands!" said he to\ +himself.\ +\ +Alpatych at a gliding trot, only just managing not to run, kept up with\ +him with difficulty.\ +\ +"What decision have you been pleased to come to?" said he.\ +\ +Rostov stopped and, clenching his fists, suddenly and sternly turned on\ +Alpatych.\ +\ +"Decision? What decision? Old dotard!..." cried he. "What have you been\ +about? Eh? The peasants are rioting, and you can't manage them? You're a\ +traitor yourself! I know you. I'll flay you all alive!..." And as if\ +afraid of wasting his store of anger, he left Alpatych and went rapidly\ +forward. Alpatych, mastering his offended feelings, kept pace with\ +Rostov at a gliding gait and continued to impart his views. He said the\ +peasants were obdurate and that at the present moment it would be\ +imprudent to "overresist" them without an armed force, and would it not\ +be better first to send for the military?\ +\ +"I'll give them armed force... I'll 'overresist' them!" uttered Rostov\ +meaninglessly, breathless with irrational animal fury and the need to\ +vent it.\ +\ +Without considering what he would do he moved unconciously with quick,\ +resolute steps toward the crowd. And the nearer he drew to it the more\ +Alpatych felt that this unreasonable action might produce good results.\ +The peasants in the crowd were similarly impressed when they saw\ +Rostov's rapid, firm steps and resolute, frowning face.\ +\ +After the hussars had come to the village and Rostov had gone to see the\ +princess, a certain confusion and dissension had arisen among the crowd.\ +Some of the peasants said that these new arrivals were Russians and\ +might take it amiss that the mistress was being detained. Dron was of\ +this opinion, but as soon as he expressed it Karp and others attacked\ +their ex-Elder.\ +\ +"How many years have you been fattening on the commune?" Karp shouted at\ +him. "It's all one to you! You'll dig up your pot of money and take it\ +away with you.... What does it matter to you whether our homes are\ +ruined or not?"\ +\ +"We've been told to keep order, and that no one is to leave their homes\ +or take away a single grain, and that's all about it!" cried another.\ +\ +"It was your son's turn to be conscripted, but no fear! You begrudged\ +your lump of a son," a little old man suddenly began attacking Dron--\ +"and so they took my Vanka to be shaved for a soldier! But we all have\ +to die."\ +\ +"To be sure, we all have to die. I'm not against the commune," said\ +Dron.\ +\ +"That's it--not against it! You've filled your belly...."\ +\ +The two tall peasants had their say. As soon as Rostov, followed by\ +Ilyin, Lavrushka, and Alpatych, came up to the crowd, Karp, thrusting\ +his fingers into his belt and smiling a little, walked to the front.\ +Dron on the contrary retired to the rear and the crowd drew closer\ +together.\ +\ +"Who is your Elder here? Hey?" shouted Rostov, coming up to the crowd\ +with quick steps.\ +\ +"The Elder? What do you want with him?..." asked Karp.\ +\ +But before the words were well out of his mouth, his cap flew off and a\ +fierce blow jerked his head to one side.\ +\ +"Caps off, traitors!" shouted Rostov in a wrathful voice. "Where's the\ +Elder?" he cried furiously.\ +\ +"The Elder.... He wants the Elder!... Dron Zakharych, you!" meek and\ +flustered voices here and there were heard calling and caps began to\ +come off their heads.\ +\ +"We don't riot, we're following the orders," declared Karp, and at that\ +moment several voices began speaking together.\ +\ +"It's as the old men have decided--there's too many of you giving\ +orders."\ +\ +"Arguing? Mutiny!... Brigands! Traitors!" cried Rostov unmeaningly in a\ +voice not his own, gripping Karp by the collar. "Bind him, bind him!" he\ +shouted, though there was no one to bind him but Lavrushka and Alpatych.\ +\ +Lavrushka, however, ran up to Karp and seized him by the arms from\ +behind.\ +\ +"Shall I call up our men from beyond the hill?" he called out.\ +\ +Alpatych turned to the peasants and ordered two of them by name to come\ +and bind Karp. The men obediently came out of the crowd and began taking\ +off their belts.\ +\ +"Where's the Elder?" demanded Rostov in a loud voice.\ +\ +With a pale and frowning face Dron stepped out of the crowd.\ +\ +"Are you the Elder? Bind him, Lavrushka!" shouted Rostov, as if that\ +order, too, could not possibly meet with any opposition.\ +\ +And in fact two more peasants began binding Dron, who took off his own\ +belt and handed it to them, as if to aid them.\ +\ +"And you all listen to me!" said Rostov to the peasants. "Be off to your\ +houses at once, and don't let one of your voices be heard!"\ +\ +"Why, we've not done any harm! We did it just out of foolishness. It's\ +all nonsense... I said then that it was not in order," voices were heard\ +bickering with one another.\ +\ +\ +"There! What did I say?" said Alpatych, coming into his own again. "It's\ +wrong, lads!"\ +\ +"All our stupidity, Yakov Alpatych," came the answers, and the crowd\ +began at once to disperse through the village.\ +\ +The two bound men were led off to the master's house. The two drunken\ +peasants followed them.\ +\ +"Aye, when I look at you!..." said one of them to Karp.\ +\ +"How can one talk to the masters like that? What were you thinking of,\ +you fool?" added the other--"A real fool!"\ +\ +Two hours later the carts were standing in the courtyard of the\ +Bogucharovo house. The peasants were briskly carrying out the\ +proprietor's goods and packing them on the carts, and Dron, liberated at\ +Princess Mary's wish from the cupboard where he had been confined, was\ +standing in the yard directing the men.\ +\ +"Don't put it in so carelessly," said one of the peasants, a man with a\ +round smiling face, taking a casket from a housemaid. "You know it has\ +cost money! How can you chuck it in like that or shove it under the cord\ +where it'll get rubbed? I don't like that way of doing things. Let it\ +all be done properly, according to rule. Look here, put it under the\ +bast matting and cover it with hay--that's the way!"\ +\ +"Eh, books, books!" said another peasant, bringing out Prince Andrew's\ +library cupboards. "Don't catch up against it! It's heavy, lads--solid\ +books."\ +\ +"Yes, they worked all day and didn't play!" remarked the tall, round-\ +faced peasant gravely, pointing with a significant wink at the\ +dictionaries that were on the top.\ +\ +Unwilling to obtrude himself on the princess, Rostov did not go back to\ +the house but remained in the village awaiting her departure. When her\ +carriage drove out of the house, he mounted and accompanied her eight\ +miles from Bogucharovo to where the road was occupied by our troops. At\ +the inn at Yankovo he respectfully took leave of her, for the first time\ +permitting himself to kiss her hand.\ +\ +"How can you speak so!" he blushingly replied to Princess Mary's\ +expressions of gratitude for her deliverance, as she termed what had\ +occurred. "Any police officer would have done as much! If we had had\ +only peasants to fight, we should not have let the enemy come so far,"\ +said he with a sense of shame and wishing to change the subject. "I am\ +only happy to have had the opportunity of making your acquaintance.\ +Good-bye, Princess. I wish you happiness and consolation and hope to\ +meet you again in happier circumstances. If you don't want to make me\ +blush, please don't thank me!"\ +\ +But the princess, if she did not again thank him in words, thanked him\ +with the whole expression of her face, radiant with gratitude and\ +tenderness. She could not believe that there was nothing to thank him\ +for. On the contrary, it seemed to her certain that had he not been\ +there she would have perished at the hands of the mutineers and of the\ +French, and that he had exposed himself to terrible and obvious danger\ +to save her, and even more certain was it that he was a man of lofty and\ +noble soul, able to understand her position and her sorrow. His kind,\ +honest eyes, with the tears rising in them when she herself had begun to\ +cry as she spoke of her loss, did not leave her memory.\ +\ +When she had taken leave of him and remained alone she suddenly felt her\ +eyes filling with tears, and then not for the first time the strange\ +question presented itself to her: did she love him?\ +\ +On the rest of the way to Moscow, though the princess' position was not\ +a cheerful one, Dunyasha, who went with her in the carriage, more than\ +once noticed that her mistress leaned out of the window and smiled at\ +something with an expression of mingled joy and sorrow.\ +\ +"Well, supposing I do love him?" thought Princess Mary.\ +\ +Ashamed as she was of acknowledging to herself that she had fallen in\ +love with a man who would perhaps never love her, she comforted herself\ +with the thought that no one would ever know it and that she would not\ +be to blame if, without ever speaking of it to anyone, she continued to\ +the end of her life to love the man with whom she had fallen in love for\ +the first and last time in her life.\ +\ +Sometimes when she recalled his looks, his sympathy, and his words,\ +happiness did not appear impossible to her. It was at those moments that\ +Dunyasha noticed her smiling as she looked out of the carriage window.\ +\ +"Was it not fate that brought him to Bogucharovo, and at that very\ +moment?" thought Princess Mary. "And that caused his sister to refuse my\ +brother?" And in all this Princess Mary saw the hand of Providence.\ +\ +The impression the princess made on Rostov was a very agreeable one. To\ +remember her gave him pleasure, and when his comrades, hearing of his\ +adventure at Bogucharovo, rallied him on having gone to look for hay and\ +having picked up one of the wealthiest heiresses in Russia, he grew\ +angry. It made him angry just because the idea of marrying the gentle\ +Princess Mary, who was attractive to him and had an enormous fortune,\ +had against his will more than once entered his head. For himself\ +personally Nicholas could not wish for a better wife: by marrying her he\ +would make the countess his mother happy, would be able to put his\ +father's affairs in order, and would even--he felt it--ensure Princess\ +Mary's happiness.\ +\ +But Sonya? And his plighted word? That was why Rostov grew angry when he\ +was rallied about Princess Bolkonskaya.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XV\ +\ +On receiving command of the armies Kutuzov remembered Prince Andrew and\ +sent an order for him to report at headquarters.\ +\ +Prince Andrew arrived at Tsarevo-Zaymishche on the very day and at the\ +very hour that Kutuzov was reviewing the troops for the first time. He\ +stopped in the village at the priest's house in front of which stood the\ +commander-in-chief's carriage, and he sat down on the bench at the gate\ +awaiting his Serene Highness, as everyone now called Kutuzov. From the\ +field beyond the village came now sounds of regimental music and now the\ +roar of many voices shouting "Hurrah!" to the new commander-in-chief.\ +Two orderlies, a courier and a major-domo, stood near by, some ten paces\ +from Prince Andrew, availing themselves of Kutuzov's absence and of the\ +fine weather. A short, swarthy lieutenant colonel of hussars with thick\ +mustaches and whiskers rode up to the gate and, glancing at Prince\ +Andrew, inquired whether his Serene Highness was putting up there and\ +whether he would soon be back.\ +\ +Prince Andrew replied that he was not on his Serene Highness' staff but\ +was himself a new arrival. The lieutenant colonel turned to a smart\ +orderly, who, with the peculiar contempt with which a commander-in-\ +chief's orderly speaks to officers, replied:\ +\ +"What? His Serene Highness? I expect he'll be here soon. What do you\ +want?"\ +\ +The lieutenant colonel of hussars smiled beneath his mustache at the\ +orderly's tone, dismounted, gave his horse to a dispatch runner, and\ +approached Bolkonski with a slight bow. Bolkonski made room for him on\ +the bench and the lieutenant colonel sat down beside him.\ +\ +"You're also waiting for the commander-in-chief?" said he. "They say he\ +weceives evewyone, thank God!... It's awful with those sausage eaters!\ +Ermolov had weason to ask to be pwomoted to be a German! Now p'waps\ +Wussians will get a look in. As it was, devil only knows what was\ +happening. We kept wetweating and wetweating. Did you take part in the\ +campaign?" he asked.\ +\ +"I had the pleasure," replied Prince Andrew, "not only of taking part in\ +the retreat but of losing in that retreat all I held dear--not to\ +mention the estate and home of my birth--my father, who died of grief. I\ +belong to the province of Smolensk."\ +\ +"Ah? You're Pwince Bolkonski? Vewy glad to make your acquaintance! I'm\ +Lieutenant Colonel Denisov, better known as 'Vaska,'" said Denisov,\ +pressing Prince Andrew's hand and looking into his face with a\ +particularly kindly attention. "Yes, I heard," said he sympathetically,\ +and after a short pause added: "Yes, it's Scythian warfare. It's all\ +vewy well--only not for those who get it in the neck. So you are Pwince\ +Andwew Bolkonski?" He swayed his head. "Vewy pleased, Pwince, to make\ +your acquaintance!" he repeated again, smiling sadly, and he again\ +pressed Prince Andrew's hand.\ +\ +Prince Andrew knew Denisov from what Natasha had told him of her first\ +suitor. This memory carried him sadly and sweetly back to those painful\ +feelings of which he had not thought lately, but which still found place\ +in his soul. Of late he had received so many new and very serious\ +impressions--such as the retreat from Smolensk, his visit to Bald Hills,\ +and the recent news of his father's death--and had experienced so many\ +emotions, that for a long time past those memories had not entered his\ +mind, and now that they did, they did not act on him with nearly their\ +former strength. For Denisov, too, the memories awakened by the name of\ +Bolkonski belonged to a distant, romantic past, when after supper and\ +after Natasha's singing he had proposed to a little girl of fifteen\ +without realizing what he was doing. He smiled at the recollection of\ +that time and of his love for Natasha, and passed at once to what now\ +interested him passionately and exclusively. This was a plan of campaign\ +he had devised while serving at the outposts during the retreat. He had\ +proposed that plan to Barclay de Tolly and now wished to propose it to\ +Kutuzov. The plan was based on the fact that the French line of\ +operation was too extended, and it proposed that instead of, or\ +concurrently with, action on the front to bar the advance of the French,\ +we should attack their line of communication. He began explaining his\ +plan to Prince Andrew.\ +\ +"They can't hold all that line. It's impossible. I will undertake to\ +bweak thwough. Give me five hundwed men and I will bweak the line,\ +that's certain! There's only one way--guewilla warfare!"\ +\ +Denisov rose and began gesticulating as he explained his plan to\ +Bolkonski. In the midst of his explanation shouts were heard from the\ +army, growing more incoherent and more diffused, mingling with music and\ +songs and coming from the field where the review was held. Sounds of\ +hoofs and shouts were nearing the village.\ +\ +"He's coming! He's coming!" shouted a Cossack standing at the gate.\ +\ +Bolkonski and Denisov moved to the gate, at which a knot of soldiers (a\ +guard of honor) was standing, and they saw Kutuzov coming down the\ +street mounted on a rather small sorrel horse. A huge suite of generals\ +rode behind him. Barclay was riding almost beside him, and a crowd of\ +officers ran after and around them shouting, "Hurrah!"\ +\ +His adjutants galloped into the yard before him. Kutuzov was impatiently\ +urging on his horse, which ambled smoothly under his weight, and he\ +raised his hand to his white Horse Guard's cap with a red band and no\ +peak, nodding his head continually. When he came up to the guard of\ +honor, a fine set of Grenadiers mostly wearing decorations, who were\ +giving him the salute, he looked at them silently and attentively for\ +nearly a minute with the steady gaze of a commander and then turned to\ +the crowd of generals and officers surrounding him. Suddenly his face\ +assumed a subtle expression, he shrugged his shoulders with an air of\ +perplexity.\ +\ +"And with such fine fellows to retreat and retreat! Well, good-by,\ +General," he added, and rode into the yard past Prince Andrew and\ +Denisov.\ +\ +"Hurrah! hurrah! hurrah!" shouted those behind him.\ +\ +Since Prince Andrew had last seen him Kutuzov had grown still more\ +corpulent, flaccid, and fat. But the bleached eyeball, the scar, and the\ +familiar weariness of his expression were still the same. He was wearing\ +the white Horse Guard's cap and a military overcoat with a whip hanging\ +over his shoulder by a thin strap. He sat heavily and swayed limply on\ +his brisk little horse.\ +\ +"Whew... whew... whew!" he whistled just audibly as he rode into the\ +yard. His face expressed the relief of relaxed strain felt by a man who\ +means to rest after a ceremony. He drew his left foot out of the stirrup\ +and, lurching with his whole body and puckering his face with the\ +effort, raised it with difficulty onto the saddle, leaned on his knee,\ +groaned, and slipped down into the arms of the Cossacks and adjutants\ +who stood ready to assist him.\ +\ +He pulled himself together, looked round, screwing up his eyes, glanced\ +at Prince Andrew, and, evidently not recognizing him, moved with his\ +waddling gait to the porch. "Whew... whew... whew!" he whistled, and\ +again glanced at Prince Andrew. As often occurs with old men, it was\ +only after some seconds that the impression produced by Prince Andrew's\ +face linked itself up with Kutuzov's remembrance of his personality.\ +\ +"Ah, how do you do, my dear prince? How do you do, my dear boy? Come\ +along..." said he, glancing wearily round, and he stepped onto the porch\ +which creaked under his weight.\ +\ +He unbuttoned his coat and sat down on a bench in the porch.\ +\ +"And how's your father?"\ +\ +"I received news of his death, yesterday," replied Prince Andrew\ +abruptly.\ +\ +Kutuzov looked at him with eyes wide open with dismay and then took off\ +his cap and crossed himself:\ +\ +"May the kingdom of Heaven be his! God's will be done to us all!" He\ +sighed deeply, his whole chest heaving, and was silent for a while. "I\ +loved him and respected him, and sympathize with you with all my heart."\ +\ +He embraced Prince Andrew, pressing him to his fat breast, and for some\ +time did not let him go. When he released him Prince Andrew saw that\ +Kutuzov's flabby lips were trembling and that tears were in his eyes. He\ +sighed and pressed on the bench with both hands to raise himself.\ +\ +"Come! Come with me, we'll have a talk," said he.\ +\ +But at that moment Denisov, no more intimidated by his superiors than by\ +the enemy, came with jingling spurs up the steps of the porch, despite\ +the angry whispers of the adjutants who tried to stop him. Kutuzov, his\ +hands still pressed on the seat, glanced at him glumly. Denisov, having\ +given his name, announced that he had to communicate to his Serene\ +Highness a matter of great importance for their country's welfare.\ +Kutuzov looked wearily at him and, lifting his hands with a gesture of\ +annoyance, folded them across his stomach, repeating the words: "For our\ +country's welfare? Well, what is it? Speak!" Denisov blushed like a girl\ +(it was strange to see the color rise in that shaggy, bibulous, time-\ +worn face) and boldly began to expound his plan of cutting the enemy's\ +lines of communication between Smolensk and Vyazma. Denisov came from\ +those parts and knew the country well. His plan seemed decidedly a good\ +one, especially from the strength of conviction with which he spoke.\ +Kutuzov looked down at his own legs, occasionally glancing at the door\ +of the adjoining hut as if expecting something unpleasant to emerge from\ +it. And from that hut, while Denisov was speaking, a general with a\ +portfolio under his arm really did appear.\ +\ +"What?" said Kutuzov, in the midst of Denisov's explanations, "are you\ +ready so soon?"\ +\ +"Ready, your Serene Highness," replied the general.\ +\ +Kutuzov swayed his head, as much as to say: "How is one man to deal with\ +it all?" and again listened to Denisov.\ +\ +"I give my word of honor as a Wussian officer," said Denisov, "that I\ +can bweak Napoleon's line of communication!"\ +\ +"What relation are you to Intendant General Kiril Andreevich Denisov?"\ +asked Kutuzov, interrupting him.\ +\ +"He is my uncle, your Sewene Highness."\ +\ +"Ah, we were friends," said Kutuzov cheerfully. "All right, all right,\ +friend, stay here at the staff and tomorrow we'll have a talk."\ +\ +With a nod to Denisov he turned away and put out his hand for the papers\ +Konovnitsyn had brought him.\ +\ +"Would not your Serene Highness like to come inside?" said the general\ +on duty in a discontented voice, "the plans must be examined and several\ +papers have to be signed."\ +\ +An adjutant came out and announced that everything was in readiness\ +within. But Kutuzov evidently did not wish to enter that room till he\ +was disengaged. He made a grimace...\ +\ +"No, tell them to bring a small table out here, my dear boy. I'll look\ +at them here," said he. "Don't go away," he added, turning to Prince\ +Andrew, who remained in the porch and listened to the general's report.\ +\ +While this was being given, Prince Andrew heard the whisper of a woman's\ +voice and the rustle of a silk dress behind the door. Several times on\ +glancing that way he noticed behind that door a plump, rosy, handsome\ +woman in a pink dress with a lilac silk kerchief on her head, holding a\ +dish and evidently awaiting the entrance of the commander-in-chief.\ +Kutuzov's adjutant whispered to Prince Andrew that this was the wife of\ +the priest whose home it was, and that she intended to offer his Serene\ +Highness bread and salt. "Her husband has welcomed his Serene Highness\ +with the cross at the church, and she intends to welcome him in the\ +house.... She's very pretty," added the adjutant with a smile. At those\ +words Kutuzov looked round. He was listening to the general's report--\ +which consisted chiefly of a criticism of the position at Tsarevo-\ +Zaymishche--as he had listened to Denisov, and seven years previously\ +had listened to the discussion at the Austerlitz council of war. He\ +evidently listened only because he had ears which, though there was a\ +piece of tow in one of them, could not help hearing; but it was evident\ +that nothing the general could say would surprise or even interest him,\ +that he knew all that would be said beforehand, and heard it all only\ +because he had to, as one has to listen to the chanting of a service of\ +prayer. All that Denisov had said was clever and to the point. What the\ +general was saying was even more clever and to the point, but it was\ +evident that Kutuzov despised knowledge and cleverness, and knew of\ +something else that would decide the matter--something independent of\ +cleverness and knowledge. Prince Andrew watched the commander-in-chief's\ +face attentively, and the only expression he could see there was one of\ +boredom, curiosity as to the meaning of the feminine whispering behind\ +the door, and a desire to observe propriety. It was evident that Kutuzov\ +despised cleverness and learning and even the patriotic feeling shown by\ +Denisov, but despised them not because of his own intellect, feelings,\ +or knowledge--he did not try to display any of these--but because of\ +something else. He despised them because of his old age and experience\ +of life. The only instruction Kutuzov gave of his own accord during that\ +report referred to looting by the Russian troops. At the end of the\ +report the general put before him for signature a paper relating to the\ +recovery of payment from army commanders for green oats mown down by the\ +soldiers, when landowners lodged petitions for compensation.\ +\ +After hearing the matter, Kutuzov smacked his lips together and shook\ +his head.\ +\ +"Into the stove... into the fire with it! I tell you once for all, my\ +dear fellow," said he, "into the fire with all such things! Let them cut\ +the crops and burn wood to their hearts' content. I don't order it or\ +allow it, but I don't exact compensation either. One can't get on\ +without it. 'When wood is chopped the chips will fly.'" He looked at the\ +paper again. "Oh, this German precision!" he muttered, shaking his head.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XVI\ +\ +"Well, that's all!" said Kutuzov as he signed the last of the documents,\ +and rising heavily and smoothing out the folds in his fat white neck he\ +moved toward the door with a more cheerful expression.\ +\ +The priest's wife, flushing rosy red, caught up the dish she had after\ +all not managed to present at the right moment, though she had so long\ +been preparing for it, and with a low bow offered it to Kutuzov.\ +\ +He screwed up his eyes, smiled, lifted her chin with his hand, and said:\ +\ +"Ah, what a beauty! Thank you, sweetheart!"\ +\ +He took some gold pieces from his trouser pocket and put them on the\ +dish for her. "Well, my dear, and how are we getting on?" he asked,\ +moving to the door of the room assigned to him. The priest's wife\ +smiled, and with dimples in her rosy cheeks followed him into the room.\ +The adjutant came out to the porch and asked Prince Andrew to lunch with\ +him. Half an hour later Prince Andrew was again called to Kutuzov. He\ +found him reclining in an armchair, still in the same unbuttoned\ +overcoat. He had in his hand a French book which he closed as Prince\ +Andrew entered, marking the place with a knife. Prince Andrew saw by the\ +cover that it was Les Chevaliers du Cygne by Madame de Genlis.\ +\ +"Well, sit down, sit down here. Let's have a talk," said Kutuzov. "It's\ +sad, very sad. But remember, my dear fellow, that I am a father to you,\ +a second father...."\ +\ +Prince Andrew told Kutuzov all he knew of his father's death, and what\ +he had seen at Bald Hills when he passed through it.\ +\ +"What... what they have brought us to!" Kutuzov suddenly cried in an\ +agitated voice, evidently picturing vividly to himself from Prince\ +Andrew's story the condition Russia was in. "But give me time, give me\ +time!" he said with a grim look, evidently not wishing to continue this\ +agitating conversation, and added: "I sent for you to keep you with me."\ +\ +"I thank your Serene Highness, but I fear I am no longer fit for the\ +staff," replied Prince Andrew with a smile which Kutuzov noticed.\ +\ +Kutuzov glanced inquiringly at him.\ +\ +"But above all," added Prince Andrew, "I have grown used to my regiment,\ +am fond of the officers, and I fancy the men also like me. I should be\ +sorry to leave the regiment. If I decline the honor of being with you,\ +believe me..."\ +\ +A shrewd, kindly, yet subtly derisive expression lit up Kutuzov's podgy\ +face. He cut Bolkonski short.\ +\ +"I am sorry, for I need you. But you're right, you're right! It's not\ +here that men are needed. Advisers are always plentiful, but men are\ +not. The regiments would not be what they are if the would-be advisers\ +served there as you do. I remember you at Austerlitz.... I remember,\ +yes, I remember you with the standard!" said Kutuzov, and a flush of\ +pleasure suffused Prince Andrew's face at this recollection.\ +\ +Taking his hand and drawing him downwards, Kutuzov offered his cheek to\ +be kissed, and again Prince Andrew noticed tears in the old man's eyes.\ +Though Prince Andrew knew that Kutuzov's tears came easily, and that he\ +was particularly tender to and considerate of him from a wish to show\ +sympathy with his loss, yet this reminder of Austerlitz was both\ +pleasant and flattering to him.\ +\ +"Go your way and God be with you. I know your path is the path of\ +honor!" He paused. "I missed you at Bucharest, but I needed someone to\ +send." And changing the subject, Kutuzov began to speak of the Turkish\ +war and the peace that had been concluded. "Yes, I have been much\ +blamed," he said, "both for that war and the peace... but everything\ +came at the right time. Tout vient a point a celui qui sait attendre. *\ +And there were as many advisers there as here..." he went on, returning\ +to the subject of "advisers" which evidently occupied him. "Ah, those\ +advisers!" said he. "If we had listened to them all we should not have\ +made peace with Turkey and should not have been through with that war.\ +Everything in haste, but more haste, less speed. Kamenski would have\ +been lost if he had not died. He stormed fortresses with thirty thousand\ +men. It is not difficult to capture a fortress but it is difficult to\ +win a campaign. For that, not storming and attacking but patience and\ +time are wanted. Kamenski sent soldiers to Rustchuk, but I only employed\ +these two things and took more fortresses than Kamenski and made them\ +Turks eat horseflesh!" He swayed his head. "And the French shall too,\ +believe me," he went on, growing warmer and beating his chest, "I'll\ +make them eat horseflesh!" And tears again dimmed his eyes.\ +\ +\ +* "Everything comes in time to him who knows how to wait."\ +\ +"But shan't we have to accept battle?" remarked Prince Andrew.\ +\ +"We shall if everybody wants it; it can't be helped.... But believe me,\ +my dear boy, there is nothing stronger than those two: patience and\ +time, they will do it all. But the advisers n'entendent pas de cette\ +oreille, voila le mal. * Some want a thing--others don't. What's one to\ +do?" he asked, evidently expecting an answer. "Well, what do you want us\ +to do?" he repeated and his eye shone with a deep, shrewd look. "I'll\ +tell you what to do," he continued, as Prince Andrew still did not\ +reply: "I will tell you what to do, and what I do. Dans le doute, mon\ +cher," he paused, "abstiens-toi" *(2)--he articulated the French proverb\ +deliberately.\ +\ +\ +* "Don't see it that way, that's the trouble."\ +\ +* (2) "When in doubt, my dear fellow, do nothing."\ +\ +"Well, good-by, my dear fellow; remember that with all my heart I share\ +your sorrow, and that for you I am not a Serene Highness, nor a prince,\ +nor a commander-in-chief, but a father! If you want anything come\ +straight to me. Good-bye, my dear boy."\ +\ +Again he embraced and kissed Prince Andrew, but before the latter had\ +left the room Kutuzov gave a sigh of relief and went on with his\ +unfinished novel, Les Chevaliers du Cygne by Madame de Genlis.\ +\ +Prince Andrew could not have explained how or why it was, but after that\ +interview with Kutuzov he went back to his regiment reassured as to the\ +general course of affairs and as to the man to whom it had been\ +entrusted. The more he realized the absence of all personal motive in\ +that old man--in whom there seemed to remain only the habit of passions,\ +and in place of an intellect (grouping events and drawing conclusions)\ +only the capacity calmly to contemplate the course of events--the more\ +reassured he was that everything would be as it should. "He will not\ +bring in any plan of his own. He will not devise or undertake anything,"\ +thought Prince Andrew, "but he will hear everything, remember\ +everything, and put everything in its place. He will not hinder anything\ +useful nor allow anything harmful. He understands that there is\ +something stronger and more important than his own will--the inevitable\ +course of events, and he can see them and grasp their significance, and\ +seeing that significance can refrain from meddling and renounce his\ +personal wish directed to something else. And above all," thought Prince\ +Andrew, "one believes in him because he's Russian, despite the novel by\ +Genlis and the French proverbs, and because his voice shook when he\ +said: 'What they have brought us to!' and had a sob in it when he said\ +he would 'make them eat horseflesh!'"\ +\ +On such feelings, more or less dimly shared by all, the unanimity and\ +general approval were founded with which, despite court influences, the\ +popular choice of Kutuzov as commander-in-chief was received.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XVII\ +\ +After the Emperor had left Moscow, life flowed on there in its usual\ +course, and its course was so very usual that it was difficult to\ +remember the recent days of patriotic elation and ardor, hard to believe\ +that Russia was really in danger and that the members of the English\ +Club were also sons of the Fatherland ready to sacrifice everything for\ +it. The one thing that recalled the patriotic fervor everyone had\ +displayed during the Emperor's stay was the call for contributions of\ +men and money, a necessity that as soon as the promises had been made\ +assumed a legal, official form and became unavoidable.\ +\ +With the enemy's approach to Moscow, the Moscovites' view of their\ +situation did not grow more serious but on the contrary became even more\ +frivolous, as always happens with people who see a great danger\ +approaching. At the approach of danger there are always two voices that\ +speak with equal power in the human soul: one very reasonably tells a\ +man to consider the nature of the danger and the means of escaping it;\ +the other, still more reasonably, says that it is too depressing and\ +painful to think of the danger, since it is not in man's power to\ +foresee everything and avert the general course of events, and it is\ +therefore better to disregard what is painful till it comes, and to\ +think about what is pleasant. In solitude a man generally listens to the\ +first voice, but in society to the second. So it was now with the\ +inhabitants of Moscow. It was long since people had been as gay in\ +Moscow as that year.\ +\ +Rostopchin's broadsheets, headed by woodcuts of a drink shop, a potman,\ +and a Moscow burgher called Karpushka Chigirin, "who--having been a\ +militiaman and having had rather too much at the pub--heard that\ +Napoleon wished to come to Moscow, grew angry, abused the French in very\ +bad language, came out of the drink shop, and, under the sign of the\ +eagle, began to address the assembled people," were read and discussed,\ +together with the latest of Vasili Lvovich Pushkin's bouts rimes.\ +\ +In the corner room at the club, members gathered to read these\ +broadsheets, and some liked the way Karpushka jeered at the French,\ +saying: "They will swell up with Russian cabbage, burst with our\ +buckwheat porridge, and choke themselves with cabbage soup. They are all\ +dwarfs and one peasant woman will toss three of them with a hayfork."\ +Others did not like that tone and said it was stupid and vulgar. It was\ +said that Rostopchin had expelled all Frenchmen and even all foreigners\ +from Moscow, and that there had been some spies and agents of Napoleon\ +among them; but this was told chiefly to introduce Rostopchin's witty\ +remark on that occasion. The foreigners were deported to Nizhni by boat,\ +and Rostopchin had said to them in French: "Rentrez en vousmemes; entrez\ +dans la barque, et n'en faites pas une barque de Charon." * There was\ +talk of all the government offices having been already removed from\ +Moscow, and to this Shinshin's witticism was added--that for that alone\ +Moscow ought to be grateful to Napoleon. It was said that Mamonov's\ +regiment would cost him eight hundred thousand rubles, and that Bezukhov\ +had spent even more on his, but that the best thing about Bezukhov's\ +action was that he himself was going to don a uniform and ride at the\ +head of his regiment without charging anything for the show.\ +\ +\ +* "Think it over; get into the barque, and take care not to make it a\ +barque of Charon."\ +\ +"You don't spare anyone," said Julie Drubetskaya as she collected and\ +pressed together a bunch of raveled lint with her thin, beringed\ +fingers.\ +\ +Julie was preparing to leave Moscow next day and was giving a farewell\ +soiree.\ +\ +"Bezukhov est ridicule, but he is so kind and good-natured. What\ +pleasure is there to be so caustique?"\ +\ +"A forfeit!" cried a young man in militia uniform whom Julie called "mon\ +chevalier," and who was going with her to Nizhni.\ +\ +In Julie's set, as in many other circles in Moscow, it had been agreed\ +that they would speak nothing but Russian and that those who made a slip\ +and spoke French should pay fines to the Committee of Voluntary\ +Contributions.\ +\ +"Another forfeit for a Gallicism," said a Russian writer who was\ +present. "'What pleasure is there to be' is not Russian!"\ +\ +"You spare no one," continued Julie to the young man without heeding the\ +author's remark.\ +\ +"For caustique--I am guilty and will pay, and I am prepared to pay again\ +for the pleasure of telling you the truth. For Gallicisms I won't be\ +responsible," she remarked, turning to the author: "I have neither the\ +money nor the time, like Prince Galitsyn, to engage a master to teach me\ +Russian!"\ +\ +"Ah, here he is!" she added. "Quand on... No, no," she said to the\ +militia officer, "you won't catch me. Speak of the sun and you see its\ +rays!" and she smiled amiably at Pierre. "We were just talking of you,"\ +she said with the facility in lying natural to a society woman. "We were\ +saying that your regiment would be sure to be better than Mamonov's."\ +\ +"Oh, don't talk to me of my regiment," replied Pierre, kissing his\ +hostess' hand and taking a seat beside her. "I am so sick of it."\ +\ +"You will, of course, command it yourself?" said Julie, directing a sly,\ +sarcastic glance toward the militia officer.\ +\ +The latter in Pierre's presence had ceased to be caustic, and his face\ +expressed perplexity as to what Julie's smile might mean. In spite of\ +his absent-mindedness and good nature, Pierre's personality immediately\ +checked any attempt to ridicule him to his face.\ +\ +"No," said Pierre, with a laughing glance at his big, stout body. "I\ +should make too good a target for the French, besides I am afraid I\ +should hardly be able to climb onto a horse."\ +\ +Among those whom Julie's guests happened to choose to gossip about were\ +the Rostovs.\ +\ +"I hear that their affairs are in a very bad way," said Julie. "And he\ +is so unreasonable, the count himself I mean. The Razumovskis wanted to\ +buy his house and his estate near Moscow, but it drags on and on. He\ +asks too much."\ +\ +"No, I think the sale will come off in a few days," said someone.\ +"Though it is madness to buy anything in Moscow now."\ +\ +"Why?" asked Julie. "You don't think Moscow is in danger?"\ +\ +"Then why are you leaving?"\ +\ +"I? What a question! I am going because... well, because everyone is\ +going: and besides--I am not Joan of Arc or an Amazon."\ +\ +"Well, of course, of course! Let me have some more strips of linen."\ +\ +"If he manages the business properly he will be able to pay off all his\ +debts," said the militia officer, speaking of Rostov.\ +\ +"A kindly old man but not up to much. And why do they stay on so long in\ +Moscow? They meant to leave for the country long ago. Natalie is quite\ +well again now, isn't she?" Julie asked Pierre with a knowing smile.\ +\ +"They are waiting for their younger son," Pierre replied. "He joined\ +Obolenski's Cossacks and went to Belaya Tserkov where the regiment is\ +being formed. But now they have had him transferred to my regiment and\ +are expecting him every day. The count wanted to leave long ago, but the\ +countess won't on any account leave Moscow till her son returns."\ +\ +"I met them the day before yesterday at the Arkharovs'. Natalie has\ +recovered her looks and is brighter. She sang a song. How easily some\ +people get over everything!"\ +\ +"Get over what?" inquired Pierre, looking displeased.\ +\ +Julie smiled.\ +\ +"You know, Count, such knights as you are only found in Madame de\ +Souza's novels."\ +\ +"What knights? What do you mean?" demanded Pierre, blushing.\ +\ +"Oh, come, my dear count! C'est la fable de tout Moscou. Je vous admire,\ +ma parole d'honneur!" *\ +\ +\ +* "It is the talk of all Moscow. My word, I admire you!"\ +\ +"Forfeit, forfeit!" cried the militia officer.\ +\ +"All right, one can't talk--how tiresome!"\ +\ +"What is 'the talk of all Moscow'?" Pierre asked angrily, rising to his\ +feet.\ +\ +"Come now, Count, you know!"\ +\ +"I don't know anything about it," said Pierre.\ +\ +"I know you were friendly with Natalie, and so... but I was always more\ +friendly with Vera--that dear Vera."\ +\ +"No, madame!" Pierre continued in a tone of displeasure, "I have not\ +taken on myself the role of Natalie Rostova's knight at all, and have\ +not been to their house for nearly a month. But I cannot understand the\ +cruelty..."\ +\ +"Qui s'excuse s'accuse," * said Julie, smiling and waving the lint\ +triumphantly, and to have the last word she promptly changed the\ +subject. "Do you know what I heard today? Poor Mary Bolkonskaya arrived\ +in Moscow yesterday. Do you know that she has lost her father?"\ +\ +\ +* "Who excuses himself, accuses himself."\ +\ +"Really? Where is she? I should like very much to see her," said Pierre.\ +\ +"I spent the evening with her yesterday. She is going to their estate\ +near Moscow either today or tomorrow morning, with her nephew."\ +\ +"Well, and how is she?" asked Pierre.\ +\ +"She is well, but sad. But do you know who rescued her? It is quite a\ +romance. Nicholas Rostov! She was surrounded, and they wanted to kill\ +her and had wounded some of her people. He rushed in and saved her...."\ +\ +"Another romance," said the militia officer. "Really, this general\ +flight has been arranged to get all the old maids married off. Catiche\ +is one and Princess Bolkonskaya another."\ +\ +"Do you know, I really believe she is un petit peu amoureuse du jeune\ +homme." *\ +\ +\ +* "A little bit in love with the young man."\ +\ +"Forfeit, forfeit, forfeit!"\ +\ +"But how could one say that in Russian?"\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XVIII\ +\ +When Pierre returned home he was handed two of Rostopchin's broadsheets\ +that had been brought that day.\ +\ +The first declared that the report that Count Rostopchin had forbidden\ +people to leave Moscow was false; on the contrary he was glad that\ +ladies and tradesmen's wives were leaving the city. "There will be less\ +panic and less gossip," ran the broadsheet "but I will stake my life on\ +it that scoundrel will not enter Moscow." These words showed Pierre\ +clearly for the first time that the French would enter Moscow. The\ +second broadsheet stated that our headquarters were at Vyazma, that\ +Count Wittgenstein had defeated the French, but that as many of the\ +inhabitants of Moscow wished to be armed, weapons were ready for them at\ +the arsenal: sabers, pistols, and muskets which could be had at a low\ +price. The tone of the proclamation was not as jocose as in the former\ +Chigirin talks. Pierre pondered over these broadsheets. Evidently the\ +terrible stormcloud he had desired with the whole strength of his soul\ +but which yet aroused involuntary horror in him was drawing near.\ +\ +"Shall I join the army and enter the service, or wait?" he asked himself\ +for the hundredth time. He took a pack of cards that lay on the table\ +and began to lay them out for a game of patience.\ +\ +"If this patience comes out," he said to himself after shuffling the\ +cards, holding them in his hand, and lifting his head, "if it comes out,\ +it means... what does it mean?"\ +\ +He had not decided what it should mean when he heard the voice of the\ +eldest princess at the door asking whether she might come in.\ +\ +"Then it will mean that I must go to the army," said Pierre to himself.\ +"Come in, come in!" he added to the princess.\ +\ +Only the eldest princess, the one with the stony face and long waist,\ +was still living in Pierre's house. The two younger ones had both\ +married.\ +\ +"Excuse my coming to you, cousin," she said in a reproachful and\ +agitated voice. "You know some decision must be come to. What is going\ +to happen? Everyone has left Moscow and the people are rioting. How is\ +it that we are staying on?"\ +\ +"On the contrary, things seem satisfactory, ma cousine," said Pierre in\ +the bantering tone he habitually adopted toward her, always feeling\ +uncomfortable in the role of her benefactor.\ +\ +"Satisfactory, indeed! Very satisfactory! Barbara Ivanovna told me today\ +how our troops are distinguishing themselves. It certainly does them\ +credit! And the people too are quite mutinous--they no longer obey, even\ +my maid has taken to being rude. At this rate they will soon begin\ +beating us. One can't walk in the streets. But, above all, the French\ +will be here any day now, so what are we waiting for? I ask just one\ +thing of you, cousin," she went on, "arrange for me to be taken to\ +Petersburg. Whatever I may be, I can't live under Bonaparte's rule."\ +\ +"Oh, come, ma cousine! Where do you get your information from? On the\ +contrary..."\ +\ +"I won't submit to your Napoleon! Others may if they please.... If you\ +don't want to do this..."\ +\ +"But I will, I'll give the order at once."\ +\ +The princess was apparently vexed at not having anyone to be angry with.\ +Muttering to herself, she sat down on a chair.\ +\ +"But you have been misinformed," said Pierre. "Everything is quiet in\ +the city and there is not the slightest danger. See! I've just been\ +reading..." He showed her the broadsheet. "Count Rostopchin writes that\ +he will stake his life on it that the enemy will not enter Moscow."\ +\ +"Oh, that count of yours!" said the princess malevolently. "He is a\ +hypocrite, a rascal who has himself roused the people to riot. Didn't he\ +write in those idiotic broadsheets that anyone, 'whoever it might be,\ +should be dragged to the lockup by his hair'? (How silly!) 'And honor\ +and glory to whoever captures him,' he says. This is what his cajolery\ +has brought us to! Barbara Ivanovna told me the mob near killed her\ +because she said something in French."\ +\ +"Oh, but it's so... You take everything so to heart," said Pierre, and\ +began laying out his cards for patience.\ +\ +Although that patience did come out, Pierre did not join the army, but\ +remained in deserted Moscow ever in the same state of agitation,\ +irresolution, and alarm, yet at the same time joyfully expecting\ +something terrible.\ +\ +Next day toward evening the princess set off, and Pierre's head steward\ +came to inform him that the money needed for the equipment of his\ +regiment could not be found without selling one of the estates. In\ +general the head steward made out to Pierre that his project of raising\ +a regiment would ruin him. Pierre listened to him, scarcely able to\ +repress a smile.\ +\ +"Well then, sell it," said he. "What's to be done? I can't draw back\ +now!"\ +\ +The worse everything became, especially his own affairs, the better was\ +Pierre pleased and the more evident was it that the catastrophe he\ +expected was approaching. Hardly anyone he knew was left in town. Julie\ +had gone, and so had Princess Mary. Of his intimate friends only the\ +Rostovs remained, but he did not go to see them.\ +\ +To distract his thoughts he drove that day to the village of Vorontsovo\ +to see the great balloon Leppich was constructing to destroy the foe,\ +and a trial balloon that was to go up next day. The balloon was not yet\ +ready, but Pierre learned that it was being constructed by the Emperor's\ +desire. The Emperor had written to Count Rostopchin as follows:\ +\ +As soon as Leppich is ready, get together a crew of reliable and\ +intelligent men for his car and send a courier to General Kutuzov to let\ +him know. I have informed him of the matter.\ +\ +Please impress upon Leppich to be very careful where he descends for the\ +first time, that he may not make a mistake and fall into the enemy's\ +hands. It is essential for him to combine his movements with those of\ +the commander-in-chief.\ +\ +On his way home from Vorontsovo, as he was passing the Bolotnoe Place\ +Pierre, seeing a large crowd round the Lobnoe Place, stopped and got out\ +of his trap. A French cook accused of being a spy was being flogged. The\ +flogging was only just over, and the executioner was releasing from the\ +flogging bench a stout man with red whiskers, in blue stockings and a\ +green jacket, who was moaning piteously. Another criminal, thin and\ +pale, stood near. Judging by their faces they were both Frenchmen. With\ +a frightened and suffering look resembling that on the thin Frenchman's\ +face, Pierre pushed his way in through the crowd.\ +\ +"What is it? Who is it? What is it for?" he kept asking.\ +\ +But the attention of the crowd--officials, burghers, shopkeepers,\ +peasants, and women in cloaks and in pelisses--was so eagerly centered\ +on what was passing in Lobnoe Place that no one answered him. The stout\ +man rose, frowned, shrugged his shoulders, and evidently trying to\ +appear firm began to pull on his jacket without looking about him, but\ +suddenly his lips trembled and he began to cry, in the way full-blooded\ +grown-up men cry, though angry with himself for doing so. In the crowd\ +people began talking loudly, to stifle their feelings of pity as it\ +seemed to Pierre.\ +\ +"He's cook to some prince."\ +\ +"Eh, mounseer, Russian sauce seems to be sour to a Frenchman... sets his\ +teeth on edge!" said a wrinkled clerk who was standing behind Pierre,\ +when the Frenchman began to cry.\ +\ +The clerk glanced round, evidently hoping that his joke would be\ +appreciated. Some people began to laugh, others continued to watch in\ +dismay the executioner who was undressing the other man.\ +\ +Pierre choked, his face puckered, and he turned hastily away, went back\ +to his trap muttering something to himself as he went, and took his\ +seat. As they drove along he shuddered and exclaimed several times so\ +audibly that the coachman asked him:\ +\ +"What is your pleasure?"\ +\ +"Where are you going?" shouted Pierre to the man, who was driving to\ +Lubyanka Street.\ +\ +"To the Governor's, as you ordered," answered the coachman.\ +\ +"Fool! Idiot!" shouted Pierre, abusing his coachman--a thing he rarely\ +did. "Home, I told you! And drive faster, blockhead!" "I must get away\ +this very day," he murmured to himself.\ +\ +At the sight of the tortured Frenchman and the crowd surrounding the\ +Lobnoe Place, Pierre had so definitely made up his mind that he could no\ +longer remain in Moscow and would leave for the army that very day that\ +it seemed to him that either he had told the coachman this or that the\ +man ought to have known it for himself.\ +\ +On reaching home Pierre gave orders to Evstafey--his head coachman who\ +knew everything, could do anything, and was known to all Moscow--that he\ +would leave that night for the army at Mozhaysk, and that his saddle\ +horses should be sent there. This could not all be arranged that day, so\ +on Evstafey's representation Pierre had to put off his departure till\ +next day to allow time for the relay horses to be sent on in advance.\ +\ +On the twenty-fourth the weather cleared up after a spell of rain, and\ +after dinner Pierre left Moscow. When changing horses that night in\ +Perkhushkovo, he learned that there had been a great battle that\ +evening. (This was the battle of Shevardino.) He was told that there in\ +Perkhushkovo the earth trembled from the firing, but nobody could answer\ +his questions as to who had won. At dawn next day Pierre was approaching\ +Mozhaysk.\ +\ +Every house in Mozhaysk had soldiers quartered in it, and at the hostel\ +where Pierre was met by his groom and coachman there was no room to be\ +had. It was full of officers.\ +\ +Everywhere in Mozhaysk and beyond it, troops were stationed or on the\ +march. Cossacks, foot and horse soldiers, wagons, caissons, and cannon\ +were everywhere. Pierre pushed forward as fast as he could, and the\ +farther he left Moscow behind and the deeper he plunged into that sea of\ +troops the more was he overcome by restless agitation and a new and\ +joyful feeling he had not experienced before. It was a feeling akin to\ +what he had felt at the Sloboda Palace during the Emperor's visit--a\ +sense of the necessity of undertaking something and sacrificing\ +something. He now experienced a glad consciousness that everything that\ +constitutes men's happiness--the comforts of life, wealth, even life\ +itself--is rubbish it is pleasant to throw away, compared with\ +something... With what? Pierre could not say, and he did not try to\ +determine for whom and for what he felt such particular delight in\ +sacrificing everything. He was not occupied with the question of what to\ +sacrifice for; the fact of sacrificing in itself afforded him a new and\ +joyous sensation.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XIX\ +\ +On the twenty-fourth of August the battle of the Shevardino Redoubt was\ +fought, on the twenty-fifth not a shot was fired by either side, and on\ +the twenty-sixth the battle of Borodino itself took place.\ +\ +Why and how were the battles of Shevardino and Borodino given and\ +accepted? Why was the battle of Borodino fought? There was not the least\ +sense in it for either the French or the Russians. Its immediate result\ +for the Russians was, and was bound to be, that we were brought nearer\ +to the destruction of Moscow--which we feared more than anything in the\ +world; and for the French its immediate result was that they were\ +brought nearer to the destruction of their whole army--which they feared\ +more than anything in the world. What the result must be was quite\ +obvious, and yet Napoleon offered and Kutuzov accepted that battle.\ +\ +If the commanders had been guided by reason, it would seem that it must\ +have been obvious to Napoleon that by advancing thirteen hundred miles\ +and giving battle with a probability of losing a quarter of his army, he\ +was advancing to certain destruction, and it must have been equally\ +clear to Kutuzov that by accepting battle and risking the loss of a\ +quarter of his army he would certainly lose Moscow. For Kutuzov this was\ +mathematically clear, as it is that if when playing draughts I have one\ +man less and go on exchanging, I shall certainly lose, and therefore\ +should not exchange. When my opponent has sixteen men and I have\ +fourteen, I am only one eighth weaker than he, but when I have exchanged\ +thirteen more men he will be three times as strong as I am.\ +\ +Before the battle of Borodino our strength in proportion to the French\ +was about as five to six, but after that battle it was little more than\ +one to two: previously we had a hundred thousand against a hundred and\ +twenty thousand; afterwards little more than fifty thousand against a\ +hundred thousand. Yet the shrewd and experienced Kutuzov accepted the\ +battle, while Napoleon, who was said to be a commander of genius, gave\ +it, losing a quarter of his army and lengthening his lines of\ +communication still more. If it is said that he expected to end the\ +campaign by occupying Moscow as he had ended a previous campaign by\ +occupying Vienna, there is much evidence to the contrary. Napoleon's\ +historians themselves tell us that from Smolensk onwards he wished to\ +stop, knew the danger of his extended position, and knew that the\ +occupation of Moscow would not be the end of the campaign, for he had\ +seen at Smolensk the state in which Russian towns were left to him, and\ +had not received a single reply to his repeated announcements of his\ +wish to negotiate.\ +\ +In giving and accepting battle at Borodino, Kutuzov acted involuntarily\ +and irrationally. But later on, to fit what had occurred, the historians\ +provided cunningly devised evidence of the foresight and genius of the\ +generals who, of all the blind tools of history were the most enslaved\ +and involuntary.\ +\ +The ancients have left us model heroic poems in which the heroes furnish\ +the whole interest of the story, and we are still unable to accustom\ +ourselves to the fact that for our epoch histories of that kind are\ +meaningless.\ +\ +On the other question, how the battle of Borodino and the preceding\ +battle of Shevardino were fought, there also exists a definite and well-\ +known, but quite false, conception. All the historians describe the\ +affair as follows:\ +\ +The Russian army, they say, in its retreat from Smolensk sought out for\ +itself the best position for a general engagement and found such a\ +position at Borodino.\ +\ +The Russians, they say, fortified this position in advance on the left\ +of the highroad (from Moscow to Smolensk) and almost at a right angle to\ +it, from Borodino to Utitsa, at the very place where the battle was\ +fought.\ +\ +In front of this position, they say, a fortified outpost was set up on\ +the Shevardino mound to observe the enemy. On the twenty-fourth, we are\ +told, Napoleon attacked this advanced post and took it, and, on the\ +twenty-sixth, attacked the whole Russian army, which was in position on\ +the field of Borodino.\ +\ +So the histories say, and it is all quite wrong, as anyone who cares to\ +look into the matter can easily convince himself.\ +\ +The Russians did not seek out the best position but, on the contrary,\ +during the retreat passed many positions better than Borodino. They did\ +not stop at any one of these positions because Kutuzov did not wish to\ +occupy a position he had not himself chosen, because the popular demand\ +for a battle had not yet expressed itself strongly enough, and because\ +Miloradovich had not yet arrived with the militia, and for many other\ +reasons. The fact is that other positions they had passed were stronger,\ +and that the position at Borodino (the one where the battle was fought),\ +far from being strong, was no more a position than any other spot one\ +might find in the Russian Empire by sticking a pin into the map at\ +hazard.\ +\ +Not only did the Russians not fortify the position on the field of\ +Borodino to the left of, and at a right angle to, the highroad (that is,\ +the position on which the battle took place), but never till the twenty-\ +fifth of August, 1812, did they think that a battle might be fought\ +there. This was shown first by the fact that there were no entrenchments\ +there by the twenty fifth and that those begun on the twenty-fifth and\ +twenty-sixth were not completed, and secondly, by the position of the\ +Shevardino Redoubt. That redoubt was quite senseless in front of the\ +position where the battle was accepted. Why was it more strongly\ +fortified than any other post? And why were all efforts exhausted and\ +six thousand men sacrificed to defend it till late at night on the\ +twenty-fourth? A Cossack patrol would have sufficed to observe the\ +enemy. Thirdly, as proof that the position on which the battle was\ +fought had not been foreseen and that the Shevardino Redoubt was not an\ +advanced post of that position, we have the fact that up to the twenty-\ +fifth, Barclay de Tolly and Bagration were convinced that the Shevardino\ +Redoubt was the left flank of the position, and that Kutuzov himself in\ +his report, written in hot haste after the battle, speaks of the\ +Shevardino Redoubt as the left flank of the position. It was much later,\ +when reports on the battle of Borodino were written at leisure, that the\ +incorrect and extraordinary statement was invented (probably to justify\ +the mistakes of a commander-in-chief who had to be represented as\ +infallible) that the Shevardino Redoubt was an advanced post--whereas in\ +reality it was simply a fortified point on the left flank--and that the\ +battle of Borodino was fought by us on an entrenched position previously\ +selected, where as it was fought on a quite unexpected spot which was\ +almost unentrenched.\ +\ +The case was evidently this: a position was selected along the river\ +Kolocha--which crosses the highroad not at a right angle but at an acute\ +angle--so that the left flank was at Shevardino, the right flank near\ +the village of Novoe, and the center at Borodino at the confluence of\ +the rivers Kolocha and Voyna.\ +\ +To anyone who looks at the field of Borodino without thinking of how the\ +battle was actually fought, this position, protected by the river\ +Kolocha, presents itself as obvious for an army whose object was to\ +prevent an enemy from advancing along the Smolensk road to Moscow.\ +\ +Napoleon, riding to Valuevo on the twenty-fourth, did not see (as the\ +history books say he did) the position of the Russians from Utitsa to\ +Borodino (he could not have seen that position because it did not\ +exist), nor did he see an advanced post of the Russian army, but while\ +pursuing the Russian rearguard he came upon the left flank of the\ +Russian position--at the Shevardino Redoubt--and unexpectedly for the\ +Russians moved his army across the Kolocha. And the Russians, not having\ +time to begin a general engagement, withdrew their left wing from the\ +position they had intended to occupy and took up a new position which\ +had not been foreseen and was not fortified. By crossing to the other\ +side of the Kolocha to the left of the highroad, Napoleon shifted the\ +whole forthcoming battle from right to left (looking from the Russian\ +side) and transferred it to the plain between Utitsa, Semenovsk, and\ +Borodino--a plain no more advantageous as a position than any other\ +plain in Russia--and there the whole battle of the twenty-sixth of\ +August took place.\ +\ +Had Napoleon not ridden out on the evening of the twenty-fourth to the\ +Kolocha, and had he not then ordered an immediate attack on the redoubt\ +but had begun the attack next morning, no one would have doubted that\ +the Shevardino Redoubt was the left flank of our position, and the\ +battle would have taken place where we expected it. In that case we\ +should probably have defended the Shevardino Redoubt--our left flank--\ +still more obstinately. We should have attacked Napoleon in the center\ +or on the right, and the engagement would have taken place on the\ +twenty-fifth, in the position we intended and had fortified. But as the\ +attack on our left flank took place in the evening after the retreat of\ +our rear guard (that is, immediately after the fight at Gridneva), and\ +as the Russian commanders did not wish, or were not in time, to begin a\ +general engagement then on the evening of the twenty-fourth, the first\ +and chief action of the battle of Borodino was already lost on the\ +twenty-fourth, and obviously led to the loss of the one fought on the\ +twenty-sixth.\ +\ +After the loss of the Shevardino Redoubt, we found ourselves on the\ +morning of the twenty-fifth without a position for our left flank, and\ +were forced to bend it back and hastily entrench it where it chanced to\ +be.\ +\ +Not only was the Russian army on the twenty-sixth defended by weak,\ +unfinished entrenchments, but the disadvantage of that position was\ +increased by the fact that the Russian commanders--not having fully\ +realized what had happened, namely the loss of our position on the left\ +flank and the shifting of the whole field of the forthcoming battle from\ +right to left--maintained their extended position from the village of\ +Novoe to Utitsa, and consequently had to move their forces from right to\ +left during the battle. So it happened that throughout the whole battle\ +the Russians opposed the entire French army launched against our left\ +flank with but half as many men. (Poniatowski's action against Utitsa,\ +and Uvarov's on the right flank against the French, were actions\ +distinct from the main course of the battle.) So the battle of Borodino\ +did not take place at all as (in an effort to conceal our commanders'\ +mistakes even at the cost of diminishing the glory due to the Russian\ +army and people) it has been described. The battle of Borodino was not\ +fought on a chosen and entrenched position with forces only slightly\ +weaker than those of the enemy, but, as a result of the loss of the\ +Shevardino Redoubt, the Russians fought the battle of Borodino on an\ +open and almost unentrenched position, with forces only half as numerous\ +as the French; that is to say, under conditions in which it was not\ +merely unthinkable to fight for ten hours and secure an indecisive\ +result, but unthinkable to keep an army even from complete\ +disintegration and flight.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XX\ +\ +On the morning of the twenty-fifth Pierre was leaving Mozhaysk. At the\ +descent of the high steep hill, down which a winding road led out of the\ +town past the cathedral on the right, where a service was being held and\ +the bells were ringing, Pierre got out of his vehicle and proceeded on\ +foot. Behind him a cavalry regiment was coming down the hill preceded by\ +its singers. Coming up toward him was a train of carts carrying men who\ +had been wounded in the engagement the day before. The peasant drivers,\ +shouting and lashing their horses, kept crossing from side to side. The\ +carts, in each of which three or four wounded soldiers were lying or\ +sitting, jolted over the stones that had been thrown on the steep\ +incline to make it something like a road. The wounded, bandaged with\ +rags, with pale cheeks, compressed lips, and knitted brows, held on to\ +the sides of the carts as they were jolted against one another. Almost\ +all of them stared with naive, childlike curiosity at Pierre's white hat\ +and green swallow-tail coat.\ +\ +Pierre's coachman shouted angrily at the convoy of wounded to keep to\ +one side of the road. The cavalry regiment, as it descended the hill\ +with its singers, surrounded Pierre's carriage and blocked the road.\ +Pierre stopped, being pressed against the side of the cutting in which\ +the road ran. The sunshine from behind the hill did not penetrate into\ +the cutting and there it was cold and damp, but above Pierre's head was\ +the bright August sunshine and the bells sounded merrily. One of the\ +carts with wounded stopped by the side of the road close to Pierre. The\ +driver in his bast shoes ran panting up to it, placed a stone under one\ +of its tireless hind wheels, and began arranging the breech-band on his\ +little horse.\ +\ +One of the wounded, an old soldier with a bandaged arm who was following\ +the cart on foot, caught hold of it with his sound hand and turned to\ +look at Pierre.\ +\ +"I say, fellow countryman! Will they set us down here or take us on to\ +Moscow?" he asked.\ +\ +Pierre was so deep in thought that he did not hear the question. He was\ +looking now at the cavalry regiment that had met the convoy of wounded,\ +now at the cart by which he was standing, in which two wounded men were\ +sitting and one was lying. One of those sitting up in the cart had\ +probably been wounded in the cheek. His whole head was wrapped in rags\ +and one cheek was swollen to the size of a baby's head. His nose and\ +mouth were twisted to one side. This soldier was looking at the\ +cathedral and crossing himself. Another, a young lad, a fair-haired\ +recruit as white as though there was no blood in his thin face, looked\ +at Pierre kindly, with a fixed smile. The third lay prone so that his\ +face was not visible. The cavalry singers were passing close by:\ +\ +\ +Ah lost, quite lost... is my head so keen, Living in a foreign land.\ +\ +they sang their soldiers' dance song.\ +\ +As if responding to them but with a different sort of merriment, the\ +metallic sound of the bells reverberated high above and the hot rays of\ +the sun bathed the top of the opposite slope with yet another sort of\ +merriment. But beneath the slope, by the cart with the wounded near the\ +panting little nag where Pierre stood, it was damp, somber, and sad.\ +\ +The soldier with the swollen cheek looked angrily at the cavalry\ +singers.\ +\ +"Oh, the coxcombs!" he muttered reproachfully.\ +\ +"It's not the soldiers only, but I've seen peasants today, too.... The\ +peasants--even they have to go," said the soldier behind the cart,\ +addressing Pierre with a sad smile. "No distinctions made nowadays....\ +They want the whole nation to fall on them--in a word, it's Moscow! They\ +want to make an end of it."\ +\ +In spite of the obscurity of the soldier's words Pierre understood what\ +he wanted to say and nodded approval.\ +\ +The road was clear again; Pierre descended the hill and drove on.\ +\ +He kept looking to either side of the road for familiar faces, but only\ +saw everywhere the unfamiliar faces of various military men of different\ +branches of the service, who all looked with astonishment at his white\ +hat and green tail coat.\ +\ +Having gone nearly three miles he at last met an acquaintance and\ +eagerly addressed him. This was one of the head army doctors. He was\ +driving toward Pierre in a covered gig, sitting beside a young surgeon,\ +and on recognizing Pierre he told the Cossack who occupied the driver's\ +seat to pull up.\ +\ +"Count! Your excellency, how come you to be here?" asked the doctor.\ +\ +"Well, you know, I wanted to see..."\ +\ +"Yes, yes, there will be something to see...."\ +\ +Pierre got out and talked to the doctor, explaining his intention of\ +taking part in a battle.\ +\ +The doctor advised him to apply direct to Kutuzov.\ +\ +"Why should you be God knows where out of sight, during the battle?" he\ +said, exchanging glances with his young companion. "Anyhow his Serene\ +Highness knows you and will receive you graciously. That's what you must\ +do."\ +\ +The doctor seemed tired and in a hurry.\ +\ +"You think so?... Ah, I also wanted to ask you where our position is\ +exactly?" said Pierre.\ +\ +"The position?" repeated the doctor. "Well, that's not my line. Drive\ +past Tatarinova, a lot of digging is going on there. Go up the hillock\ +and you'll see."\ +\ +"Can one see from there?... If you would..."\ +\ +But the doctor interrupted him and moved toward his gig.\ +\ +"I would go with you but on my honor I'm up to here"--and he pointed to\ +his throat. "I'm galloping to the commander of the corps. How do matters\ +stand?... You know, Count, there'll be a battle tomorrow. Out of an army\ +of a hundred thousand we must expect at least twenty thousand wounded,\ +and we haven't stretchers, or bunks, or dressers, or doctors enough for\ +six thousand. We have ten thousand carts, but we need other things as\ +well--we must manage as best we can!"\ +\ +The strange thought that of the thousands of men, young and old, who had\ +stared with merry surprise at his hat (perhaps the very men he had\ +noticed), twenty thousand were inevitably doomed to wounds and death\ +amazed Pierre.\ +\ +"They may die tomorrow; why are they thinking of anything but death?"\ +And by some latent sequence of thought the descent of the Mozhaysk hill,\ +the carts with the wounded, the ringing bells, the slanting rays of the\ +sun, and the songs of the cavalrymen vividly recurred to his mind.\ +\ +"The cavalry ride to battle and meet the wounded and do not for a moment\ +think of what awaits them, but pass by, winking at the wounded. Yet from\ +among these men twenty thousand are doomed to die, and they wonder at my\ +hat! Strange!" thought Pierre, continuing his way to Tatarinova.\ +\ +In front of a landowner's house to the left of the road stood carriages,\ +wagons, and crowds of orderlies and sentinels. The commander-in-chief\ +was putting up there, but just when Pierre arrived he was not in and\ +hardly any of the staff were there--they had gone to the church service.\ +Pierre drove on toward Gorki.\ +\ +When he had ascended the hill and reached the little village street, he\ +saw for the first time peasant militiamen in their white shirts and with\ +crosses on their caps, who, talking and laughing loudly, animated and\ +perspiring, were at work on a huge knoll overgrown with grass to the\ +right of the road.\ +\ +Some of them were digging, others were wheeling barrowloads of earth\ +along planks, while others stood about doing nothing.\ +\ +Two officers were standing on the knoll, directing the men. On seeing\ +these peasants, who were evidently still amused by the novelty of their\ +position as soldiers, Pierre once more thought of the wounded men at\ +Mozhaysk and understood what the soldier had meant when he said: "They\ +want the whole nation to fall on them." The sight of these bearded\ +peasants at work on the battlefield, with their queer, clumsy boots and\ +perspiring necks, and their shirts opening from the left toward the\ +middle, unfastened, exposing their sunburned collarbones, impressed\ +Pierre more strongly with the solemnity and importance of the moment\ +than anything he had yet seen or heard.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XXI\ +\ +Pierre stepped out of his carriage and, passing the toiling militiamen,\ +ascended the knoll from which, according to the doctor, the battlefield\ +could be seen.\ +\ +It was about eleven o'clock. The sun shone somewhat to the left and\ +behind him and brightly lit up the enormous panorama which, rising like\ +an amphitheater, extended before him in the clear rarefied atmosphere.\ +\ +From above on the left, bisecting that amphitheater, wound the Smolensk\ +highroad, passing through a village with a white church some five\ +hundred paces in front of the knoll and below it. This was Borodino.\ +Below the village the road crossed the river by a bridge and, winding\ +down and up, rose higher and higher to the village of Valuevo visible\ +about four miles away, where Napoleon was then stationed. Beyond Valuevo\ +the road disappeared into a yellowing forest on the horizon. Far in the\ +distance in that birch and fir forest to the right of the road, the\ +cross and belfry of the Kolocha Monastery gleamed in the sun. Here and\ +there over the whole of that blue expanse, to right and left of the\ +forest and the road, smoking campfires could be seen and indefinite\ +masses of troops--ours and the enemy's. The ground to the right--along\ +the course of the Kolocha and Moskva rivers--was broken and hilly.\ +Between the hollows the villages of Bezubova and Zakharino showed in the\ +distance. On the left the ground was more level; there were fields of\ +grain, and the smoking ruins of Semenovsk, which had been burned down,\ +could be seen.\ +\ +All that Pierre saw was so indefinite that neither the left nor the\ +right side of the field fully satisfied his expectations. Nowhere could\ +he see the battlefield he had expected to find, but only fields,\ +meadows, troops, woods, the smoke of campfires, villages, mounds, and\ +streams; and try as he would he could descry no military "position" in\ +this place which teemed with life, nor could he even distinguish our\ +troops from the enemy's.\ +\ +"I must ask someone who knows," he thought, and addressed an officer who\ +was looking with curiosity at his huge unmilitary figure.\ +\ +"May I ask you," said Pierre, "what village that is in front?"\ +\ +"Burdino, isn't it?" said the officer, turning to his companion.\ +\ +"Borodino," the other corrected him.\ +\ +The officer, evidently glad of an opportunity for a talk, moved up to\ +Pierre.\ +\ +"Are those our men there?" Pierre inquired.\ +\ +"Yes, and there, further on, are the French," said the officer. "There\ +they are, there... you can see them."\ +\ +"Where? Where?" asked Pierre.\ +\ +"One can see them with the naked eye... Why, there!"\ +\ +The officer pointed with his hand to the smoke visible on the left\ +beyond the river, and the same stern and serious expression that Pierre\ +had noticed on many of the faces he had met came into his face.\ +\ +"Ah, those are the French! And over there?..." Pierre pointed to a knoll\ +on the left, near which some troops could be seen.\ +\ +"Those are ours."\ +\ +"Ah, ours! And there?..." Pierre pointed to another knoll in the\ +distance with a big tree on it, near a village that lay in a hollow\ +where also some campfires were smoking and something black was visible.\ +\ +"That's his again," said the officer. (It was the Shevardino Redoubt.)\ +"It was ours yesterday, but now it is his."\ +\ +"Then how about our position?"\ +\ +"Our position?" replied the officer with a smile of satisfaction. "I can\ +tell you quite clearly, because I constructed nearly all our\ +entrenchments. There, you see? There's our center, at Borodino, just\ +there," and he pointed to the village in front of them with the white\ +church. "That's where one crosses the Kolocha. You see down there where\ +the rows of hay are lying in the hollow, there's the bridge. That's our\ +center. Our right flank is over there"--he pointed sharply to the right,\ +far away in the broken ground--"That's where the Moskva River is, and we\ +have thrown up three redoubts there, very strong ones. The left\ +flank..." here the officer paused. "Well, you see, that's difficult to\ +explain.... Yesterday our left flank was there at Shevardino, you see,\ +where the oak is, but now we have withdrawn our left wing--now it is\ +over there, do you see that village and the smoke? That's Semenovsk,\ +yes, there," he pointed to Raevski's knoll. "But the battle will hardly\ +be there. His having moved his troops there is only a ruse; he will\ +probably pass round to the right of the Moskva. But wherever it may be,\ +many a man will be missing tomorrow!" he remarked.\ +\ +An elderly sergeant who had approached the officer while he was giving\ +these explanations had waited in silence for him to finish speaking, but\ +at this point, evidently not liking the officer's remark, interrupted\ +him.\ +\ +"Gabions must be sent for," said he sternly.\ +\ +The officer appeared abashed, as though he understood that one might\ +think of how many men would be missing tomorrow but ought not to speak\ +of it.\ +\ +"Well, send number three company again," the officer replied hurriedly.\ +\ +"And you, are you one of the doctors?"\ +\ +"No, I've come on my own," answered Pierre, and he went down the hill\ +again, passing the militiamen.\ +\ +"Oh, those damned fellows!" muttered the officer who followed him,\ +holding his nose as he ran past the men at work.\ +\ +"There they are... bringing her, coming... There they are... They'll be\ +here in a minute..." voices were suddenly heard saying; and officers,\ +soldiers, and militiamen began running forward along the road.\ +\ +A church procession was coming up the hill from Borodino. First along\ +the dusty road came the infantry in ranks, bareheaded and with arms\ +reversed. From behind them came the sound of church singing.\ +\ +Soldiers and militiamen ran bareheaded past Pierre toward the\ +procession.\ +\ +"They are bringing her, our Protectress!... The Iberian Mother of God!"\ +someone cried.\ +\ +"The Smolensk Mother of God," another corrected him.\ +\ +The militiamen, both those who had been in the village and those who had\ +been at work on the battery, threw down their spades and ran to meet the\ +church procession. Following the battalion that marched along the dusty\ +road came priests in their vestments--one little old man in a hood with\ +attendants and singers. Behind them soldiers and officers bore a large,\ +dark-faced icon with an embossed metal cover. This was the icon that had\ +been brought from Smolensk and had since accompanied the army. Behind,\ +before, and on both sides, crowds of militiamen with bared heads walked,\ +ran, and bowed to the ground.\ +\ +At the summit of the hill they stopped with the icon; the men who had\ +been holding it up by the linen bands attached to it were relieved by\ +others, the chanters relit their censers, and service began. The hot\ +rays of the sun beat down vertically and a fresh soft wind played with\ +the hair of the bared heads and with the ribbons decorating the icon.\ +The singing did not sound loud under the open sky. An immense crowd of\ +bareheaded officers, soldiers, and militiamen surrounded the icon.\ +Behind the priest and a chanter stood the notabilities on a spot\ +reserved for them. A bald general with a St. George's Cross on his neck\ +stood just behind the priest's back, and without crossing himself (he\ +was evidently a German) patiently awaited the end of the service, which\ +he considered it necessary to hear to the end, probably to arouse the\ +patriotism of the Russian people. Another general stood in a martial\ +pose, crossing himself by shaking his hand in front of his chest while\ +looking about him. Standing among the crowd of peasants, Pierre\ +recognized several acquaintances among these notables, but did not look\ +at them--his whole attention was absorbed in watching the serious\ +expression on the faces of the crowd of soldiers and militiamen who were\ +all gazing eagerly at the icon. As soon as the tired chanters, who were\ +singing the service for the twentieth time that day, began lazily and\ +mechanically to sing: "Save from calamity Thy servants, O Mother of\ +God," and the priest and deacon chimed in: "For to Thee under God we all\ +flee as to an inviolable bulwark and protection," there again kindled in\ +all those faces the same expression of consciousness of the solemnity of\ +the impending moment that Pierre had seen on the faces at the foot of\ +the hill at Mozhaysk and momentarily on many and many faces he had met\ +that morning; and heads were bowed more frequently and hair tossed back,\ +and sighs and the sound men made as they crossed themselves were heard.\ +\ +The crowd round the icon suddenly parted and pressed against Pierre.\ +Someone, a very important personage judging by the haste with which way\ +was made for him, was approaching the icon.\ +\ +It was Kutuzov, who had been riding round the position and on his way\ +back to Tatarinova had stopped where the service was being held. Pierre\ +recognized him at once by his peculiar figure, which distinguished him\ +from everybody else.\ +\ +With a long overcoat on his exceedingly stout, round-shouldered body,\ +with uncovered white head and puffy face showing the white ball of the\ +eye he had lost, Kutuzov walked with plunging, swaying gait into the\ +crowd and stopped behind the priest. He crossed himself with an\ +accustomed movement, bent till he touched the ground with his hand, and\ +bowed his white head with a deep sigh. Behind Kutuzov was Bennigsen and\ +the suite. Despite the presence of the commander-in-chief, who attracted\ +the attention of all the superior officers, the militiamen and soldiers\ +continued their prayers without looking at him.\ +\ +When the service was over, Kutuzov stepped up to the icon, sank heavily\ +to his knees, bowed to the ground, and for a long time tried vainly to\ +rise, but could not do so on account of his weakness and weight. His\ +white head twitched with the effort. At last he rose, kissed the icon as\ +a child does with naively pouting lips, and again bowed till he touched\ +the ground with his hand. The other generals followed his example, then\ +the officers, and after them with excited faces, pressing on one\ +another, crowding, panting, and pushing, scrambled the soldiers and\ +militiamen.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XXII\ +\ +Staggering amid the crush, Pierre looked about him.\ +\ +"Count Peter Kirilovich! How did you get here?" said a voice.\ +\ +Pierre looked round. Boris Drubetskoy, brushing his knees with his hand\ +(he had probably soiled them when he, too, had knelt before the icon),\ +came up to him smiling. Boris was elegantly dressed, with a slightly\ +martial touch appropriate to a campaign. He wore a long coat and like\ +Kutuzov had a whip slung across his shoulder.\ +\ +Meanwhile Kutuzov had reached the village and seated himself in the\ +shade of the nearest house, on a bench which one Cossack had run to\ +fetch and another had hastily covered with a rug. An immense and\ +brilliant suite surrounded him.\ +\ +The icon was carried further, accompanied by the throng. Pierre stopped\ +some thirty paces from Kutuzov, talking to Boris.\ +\ +He explained his wish to be present at the battle and to see the\ +position.\ +\ +"This is what you must do," said Boris. "I will do the honors of the\ +camp to you. You will see everything best from where Count Bennigsen\ +will be. I am in attendance on him, you know; I'll mention it to him.\ +But if you want to ride round the position, come along with us. We are\ +just going to the left flank. Then when we get back, do spend the night\ +with me and we'll arrange a game of cards. Of course you know Dmitri\ +Sergeevich? Those are his quarters," and he pointed to the third house\ +in the village of Gorki.\ +\ +"But I should like to see the right flank. They say it's very strong,"\ +said Pierre. "I should like to start from the Moskva River and ride\ +round the whole position."\ +\ +"Well, you can do that later, but the chief thing is the left flank."\ +\ +"Yes, yes. But where is Prince Bolkonski's regiment? Can you point it\ +out to me?"\ +\ +"Prince Andrew's? We shall pass it and I'll take you to him."\ +\ +"What about the left flank?" asked Pierre\ +\ +"To tell you the truth, between ourselves, God only knows what state our\ +left flank is in," said Boris confidentially lowering his voice. "It is\ +not at all what Count Bennigsen intended. He meant to fortify that knoll\ +quite differently, but..." Boris shrugged his shoulders, "his Serene\ +Highness would not have it, or someone persuaded him. You see..." but\ +Boris did not finish, for at that moment Kaysarov, Kutuzov's adjutant,\ +came up to Pierre. "Ah, Kaysarov!" said Boris, addressing him with an\ +unembarrassed smile, "I was just trying to explain our position to the\ +count. It is amazing how his Serene Highness could so foresee the\ +intentions of the French!"\ +\ +"You mean the left flank?" asked Kaysarov.\ +\ +"Yes, exactly; the left flank is now extremely strong."\ +\ +Though Kutuzov had dismissed all unnecessary men from the staff, Boris\ +had contrived to remain at headquarters after the changes. He had\ +established himself with Count Bennigsen, who, like all on whom Boris\ +had been in attendance, considered young Prince Drubetskoy an invaluable\ +man.\ +\ +In the higher command there were two sharply defined parties: Kutuzov's\ +party and that of Bennigsen, the chief of staff. Boris belonged to the\ +latter and no one else, while showing servile respect to Kutuzov, could\ +so create an impression that the old fellow was not much good and that\ +Bennigsen managed everything. Now the decisive moment of battle had come\ +when Kutuzov would be destroyed and the power pass to Bennigsen, or even\ +if Kutuzov won the battle it would be felt that everything was done by\ +Bennigsen. In any case many great rewards would have to be given for\ +tomorrow's action, and new men would come to the front. So Boris was\ +full of nervous vivacity all day.\ +\ +After Kaysarov, others whom Pierre knew came up to him, and he had not\ +time to reply to all the questions about Moscow that were showered upon\ +him, or to listen to all that was told him. The faces all expressed\ +animation and apprehension, but it seemed to Pierre that the cause of\ +the excitement shown in some of these faces lay chiefly in questions of\ +personal success; his mind, however, was occupied by the different\ +expression he saw on other faces--an expression that spoke not of\ +personal matters but of the universal questions of life and death.\ +Kutuzov noticed Pierre's figure and the group gathered round him.\ +\ +"Call him to me," said Kutuzov.\ +\ +An adjutant told Pierre of his Serene Highness' wish, and Pierre went\ +toward Kutuzov's bench. But a militiaman got there before him. It was\ +Dolokhov.\ +\ +"How did that fellow get here?" asked Pierre.\ +\ +"He's a creature that wriggles in anywhere!" was the answer. "He has\ +been degraded, you know. Now he wants to bob up again. He's been\ +proposing some scheme or other and has crawled into the enemy's picket\ +line at night.... He's a brave fellow."\ +\ +Pierre took off his hat and bowed respectfully to Kutuzov.\ +\ +"I concluded that if I reported to your Serene Highness you might send\ +me away or say that you knew what I was reporting, but then I shouldn't\ +lose anything..." Dolokhov was saying.\ +\ +"Yes, yes."\ +\ +"But if I were right, I should be rendering a service to my Fatherland\ +for which I am ready to die."\ +\ +"Yes, yes."\ +\ +"And should your Serene Highness require a man who will not spare his\ +skin, please think of me.... Perhaps I may prove useful to your Serene\ +Highness."\ +\ +"Yes... Yes..." Kutuzov repeated, his laughing eye narrowing more and\ +more as he looked at Pierre.\ +\ +Just then Boris, with his courtierlike adroitness, stepped up to\ +Pierre's side near Kutuzov and in a most natural manner, without raising\ +his voice, said to Pierre, as though continuing an interrupted\ +conversation:\ +\ +"The militia have put on clean white shirts to be ready to die. What\ +heroism, Count!"\ +\ +Boris evidently said this to Pierre in order to be overheard by his\ +Serene Highness. He knew Kutuzov's attention would be caught by those\ +words, and so it was.\ +\ +"What are you saying about the militia?" he asked Boris.\ +\ +"Preparing for tomorrow, your Serene Highness--for death--they have put\ +on clean shirts."\ +\ +"Ah... a wonderful, a matchless people!" said Kutuzov; and he closed his\ +eyes and swayed his head. "A matchless people!" he repeated with a sigh.\ +\ +"So you want to smell gunpowder?" he said to Pierre. "Yes, it's a\ +pleasant smell. I have the honor to be one of your wife's adorers. Is\ +she well? My quarters are at your service."\ +\ +And as often happens with old people, Kutuzov began looking about\ +absent-mindedly as if forgetting all he wanted to say or do.\ +\ +Then, evidently remembering what he wanted, he beckoned to Andrew\ +Kaysarov, his adjutant's brother.\ +\ +"Those verses... those verses of Marin's... how do they go, eh? Those he\ +wrote about Gerakov: 'Lectures for the corps inditing'... Recite them,\ +recite them!" said he, evidently preparing to laugh.\ +\ +Kaysarov recited.... Kutuzov smilingly nodded his head to the rhythm of\ +the verses.\ +\ +When Pierre had left Kutuzov, Dolokhov came up to him and took his hand.\ +\ +"I am very glad to meet you here, Count," he said aloud, regardless of\ +the presence of strangers and in a particularly resolute and solemn\ +tone. "On the eve of a day when God alone knows who of us is fated to\ +survive, I am glad of this opportunity to tell you that I regret the\ +misunderstandings that occurred between us and should wish you not to\ +have any ill feeling for me. I beg you to forgive me."\ +\ +Pierre looked at Dolokhov with a smile, not knowing what to say to him.\ +With tears in his eyes Dolokhov embraced Pierre and kissed him.\ +\ +Boris said a few words to his general, and Count Bennigsen turned to\ +Pierre and proposed that he should ride with him along the line.\ +\ +"It will interest you," said he.\ +\ +"Yes, very much," replied Pierre.\ +\ +Half an hour later Kutuzov left for Tatarinova, and Bennigsen and his\ +suite, with Pierre among them, set out on their ride along the line.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XXIII\ +\ +From Gorki, Bennigsen descended the highroad to the bridge which, when\ +they had looked at it from the hill, the officer had pointed out as\ +being the center of our position and where rows of fragrant new-mown hay\ +lay by the riverside. They rode across that bridge into the village of\ +Borodino and thence turned to the left, passing an enormous number of\ +troops and guns, and came to a high knoll where militiamen were digging.\ +This was the redoubt, as yet unnamed, which afterwards became known as\ +the Raevski Redoubt, or the Knoll Battery, but Pierre paid no special\ +attention to it. He did not know that it would become more memorable to\ +him than any other spot on the plain of Borodino.\ +\ +They then crossed the hollow to Semenovsk, where the soldiers were\ +dragging away the last logs from the huts and barns. Then they rode\ +downhill and uphill, across a ryefield trodden and beaten down as if by\ +hail, following a track freshly made by the artillery over the furrows\ +of the plowed land, and reached some fleches * which were still being\ +dug.\ +\ +\ +* A kind of entrenchment.\ +\ +At the fleches Bennigsen stopped and began looking at the Shevardino\ +Redoubt opposite, which had been ours the day before and where several\ +horsemen could be descried. The officers said that either Napoleon or\ +Murat was there, and they all gazed eagerly at this little group of\ +horsemen. Pierre also looked at them, trying to guess which of the\ +scarcely discernible figures was Napoleon. At last those mounted men\ +rode away from the mound and disappeared.\ +\ +Bennigsen spoke to a general who approached him, and began explaining\ +the whole position of our troops. Pierre listened to him, straining each\ +faculty to understand the essential points of the impending battle, but\ +was mortified to feel that his mental capacity was inadequate for the\ +task. He could make nothing of it. Bennigsen stopped speaking and,\ +noticing that Pierre was listening, suddenly said to him:\ +\ +"I don't think this interests you?"\ +\ +"On the contrary it's very interesting!" replied Pierre not quite\ +truthfully.\ +\ +From the fleches they rode still farther to the left, along a road\ +winding through a thick, low-growing birch wood. In the middle of the\ +wood a brown hare with white feet sprang out and, scared by the tramp of\ +the many horses, grew so confused that it leaped along the road in front\ +of them for some time, arousing general attention and laughter, and only\ +when several voices shouted at it did it dart to one side and disappear\ +in the thicket. After going through the wood for about a mile and a half\ +they came out on a glade where troops of Tuchkov's corps were stationed\ +to defend the left flank.\ +\ +Here, at the extreme left flank, Bennigsen talked a great deal and with\ +much heat, and, as it seemed to Pierre, gave orders of great military\ +importance. In front of Tuchkov's troops was some high ground not\ +occupied by troops. Bennigsen loudly criticized this mistake, saying\ +that it was madness to leave a height which commanded the country around\ +unoccupied and to place troops below it. Some of the generals expressed\ +the same opinion. One in particular declared with martial heat that they\ +were put there to be slaughtered. Bennigsen on his own authority ordered\ +the troops to occupy the high ground. This disposition on the left flank\ +increased Pierre's doubt of his own capacity to understand military\ +matters. Listening to Bennigsen and the generals criticizing the\ +position of the troops behind the hill, he quite understood them and\ +shared their opinion, but for that very reason he could not understand\ +how the man who put them there behind the hill could have made so gross\ +and palpable a blunder.\ +\ +Pierre did not know that these troops were not, as Bennigsen supposed,\ +put there to defend the position, but were in a concealed position as an\ +ambush, that they should not be seen and might be able to strike an\ +approaching enemy unexpectedly. Bennigsen did not know this and moved\ +the troops forward according to his own ideas without mentioning the\ +matter to the commander-in-chief.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XXIV\ +\ +On that bright evening of August 25, Prince Andrew lay leaning on his\ +elbow in a broken-down shed in the village of Knyazkovo at the further\ +end of his regiment's encampment. Through a gap in the broken wall he\ +could see, beside the wooden fence, a row of thirty year-old birches\ +with their lower branches lopped off, a field on which shocks of oats\ +were standing, and some bushes near which rose the smoke of campfires--\ +the soldiers' kitchens.\ +\ +Narrow and burdensome and useless to anyone as his life now seemed to\ +him, Prince Andrew on the eve of battle felt agitated and irritable as\ +he had done seven years before at Austerlitz.\ +\ +He had received and given the orders for next day's battle and had\ +nothing more to do. But his thoughts--the simplest, clearest, and\ +therefore most terrible thoughts--would give him no peace. He knew that\ +tomorrow's battle would be the most terrible of all he had taken part\ +in, and for the first time in his life the possibility of death\ +presented itself to him--not in relation to any worldly matter or with\ +reference to its effect on others, but simply in relation to himself, to\ +his own soul--vividly, plainly, terribly, and almost as a certainty. And\ +from the height of this perception all that had previously tormented and\ +preoccupied him suddenly became illumined by a cold white light without\ +shadows, without perspective, without distinction of outline. All life\ +appeared to him like magic-lantern pictures at which he had long been\ +gazing by artificial light through a glass. Now he suddenly saw those\ +badly daubed pictures in clear daylight and without a glass. "Yes, yes!\ +There they are, those false images that agitated, enraptured, and\ +tormented me," said he to himself, passing in review the principal\ +pictures of the magic lantern of life and regarding them now in the cold\ +white daylight of his clear perception of death. "There they are, those\ +rudely painted figures that once seemed splendid and mysterious. Glory,\ +the good of society, love of a woman, the Fatherland itself--how\ +important these pictures appeared to me, with what profound meaning they\ +seemed to be filled! And it is all so simple, pale, and crude in the\ +cold white light of this morning which I feel is dawning for me." The\ +three great sorrows of his life held his attention in particular: his\ +love for a woman, his father's death, and the French invasion which had\ +overrun half Russia. "Love... that little girl who seemed to me brimming\ +over with mystic forces! Yes, indeed, I loved her. I made romantic plans\ +of love and happiness with her! Oh, what a boy I was!" he said aloud\ +bitterly. "Ah me! I believed in some ideal love which was to keep her\ +faithful to me for the whole year of my absence! Like the gentle dove in\ +the fable she was to pine apart from me.... But it was much simpler\ +really.... It was all very simple and horrible."\ +\ +"When my father built Bald Hills he thought the place was his: his land,\ +his air, his peasants. But Napoleon came and swept him aside,\ +unconscious of his existence, as he might brush a chip from his path,\ +and his Bald Hills and his whole life fell to pieces. Princess Mary says\ +it is a trial sent from above. What is the trial for, when he is not\ +here and will never return? He is not here! For whom then is the trial\ +intended? The Fatherland, the destruction of Moscow! And tomorrow I\ +shall be killed, perhaps not even by a Frenchman but by one of our own\ +men, by a soldier discharging a musket close to my ear as one of them\ +did yesterday, and the French will come and take me by head and heels\ +and fling me into a hole that I may not stink under their noses, and new\ +conditions of life will arise, which will seem quite ordinary to others\ +and about which I shall know nothing. I shall not exist..."\ +\ +He looked at the row of birches shining in the sunshine, with their\ +motionless green and yellow foliage and white bark. "To die... to be\ +killed tomorrow... That I should not exist... That all this should still\ +be, but no me...."\ +\ +And the birches with their light and shade, the curly clouds, the smoke\ +of the campfires, and all that was around him changed and seemed\ +terrible and menacing. A cold shiver ran down his spine. He rose\ +quickly, went out of the shed, and began to walk about.\ +\ +After he had returned, voices were heard outside the shed. "Who's that?"\ +he cried.\ +\ +The red-nosed Captain Timokhin, formerly Dolokhov's squadron commander,\ +but now from lack of officers a battalion commander, shyly entered the\ +shed followed by an adjutant and the regimental paymaster.\ +\ +Prince Andrew rose hastily, listened to the business they had come\ +about, gave them some further instructions, and was about to dismiss\ +them when he heard a familiar, lisping, voice behind the shed.\ +\ +"Devil take it!" said the voice of a man stumbling over something.\ +\ +Prince Andrew looked out of the shed and saw Pierre, who had tripped\ +over a pole on the ground and had nearly fallen, coming his way. It was\ +unpleasant to Prince Andrew to meet people of his own set in general,\ +and Pierre especially, for he reminded him of all the painful moments of\ +his last visit to Moscow.\ +\ +"You? What a surprise!" said he. "What brings you here? This is\ +unexpected!"\ +\ +As he said this his eyes and face expressed more than coldness--they\ +expressed hostility, which Pierre noticed at once. He had approached the\ +shed full of animation, but on seeing Prince Andrew's face he felt\ +constrained and ill at ease.\ +\ +"I have come... simply... you know... come... it interests me," said\ +Pierre, who had so often that day senselessly repeated that word\ +"interesting." "I wish to see the battle."\ +\ +"Oh yes, and what do the masonic brothers say about war? How would they\ +stop it?" said Prince Andrew sarcastically. "Well, and how's Moscow? And\ +my people? Have they reached Moscow at last?" he asked seriously.\ +\ +"Yes, they have. Julie Drubetskaya told me so. I went to see them, but\ +missed them. They have gone to your estate near Moscow."\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XXV\ +\ +The officers were about to take leave, but Prince Andrew, apparently\ +reluctant to be left alone with his friend, asked them to stay and have\ +tea. Seats were brought in and so was the tea. The officers gazed with\ +surprise at Pierre's huge stout figure and listened to his talk of\ +Moscow and the position of our army, round which he had ridden. Prince\ +Andrew remained silent, and his expression was so forbidding that Pierre\ +addressed his remarks chiefly to the good-natured battalion commander.\ +\ +"So you understand the whole position of our troops?" Prince Andrew\ +interrupted him.\ +\ +"Yes--that is, how do you mean?" said Pierre. "Not being a military man\ +I can't say I have understood it fully, but I understand the general\ +position."\ +\ +"Well, then, you know more than anyone else, be it who it may," said\ +Prince Andrew.\ +\ +"Oh!" said Pierre, looking over his spectacles in perplexity at Prince\ +Andrew. "Well, and what do you think of Kutuzov's appointment?" he\ +asked.\ +\ +"I was very glad of his appointment, that's all I know," replied Prince\ +Andrew.\ +\ +"And tell me your opinion of Barclay de Tolly. In Moscow they are saying\ +heaven knows what about him.... What do you think of him?"\ +\ +"Ask them," replied Prince Andrew, indicating the officers.\ +\ +Pierre looked at Timokhin with the condescendingly interrogative smile\ +with which everybody involuntarily addressed that officer.\ +\ +"We see light again, since his Serenity has been appointed, your\ +excellency," said Timokhin timidly, and continually turning to glance at\ +his colonel.\ +\ +"Why so?" asked Pierre.\ +\ +"Well, to mention only firewood and fodder, let me inform you. Why, when\ +we were retreating from Sventsyani we dare not touch a stick or a wisp\ +of hay or anything. You see, we were going away, so he would get it all;\ +wasn't it so, your excellency?" and again Timokhin turned to the prince.\ +"But we daren't. In our regiment two officers were court-martialed for\ +that kind of thing. But when his Serenity took command everything became\ +straight forward. Now we see light..."\ +\ +"Then why was it forbidden?"\ +\ +Timokhin looked about in confusion, not knowing what or how to answer\ +such a question. Pierre put the same question to Prince Andrew.\ +\ +"Why, so as not to lay waste the country we were abandoning to the\ +enemy," said Prince Andrew with venomous irony. "It is very sound: one\ +can't permit the land to be pillaged and accustom the troops to\ +marauding. At Smolensk too he judged correctly that the French might\ +outflank us, as they had larger forces. But he could not understand\ +this," cried Prince Andrew in a shrill voice that seemed to escape him\ +involuntarily: "he could not understand that there, for the first time,\ +we were fighting for Russian soil, and that there was a spirit in the\ +men such as I had never seen before, that we had held the French for two\ +days, and that that success had increased our strength tenfold. He\ +ordered us to retreat, and all our efforts and losses went for nothing.\ +He had no thought of betraying us, he tried to do the best he could, he\ +thought out everything, and that is why he is unsuitable. He is\ +unsuitable now, just because he plans out everything very thoroughly and\ +accurately as every German has to. How can I explain?... Well, say your\ +father has a German valet, and he is a splendid valet and satisfies your\ +father's requirements better than you could, then it's all right to let\ +him serve. But if your father is mortally sick you'll send the valet\ +away and attend to your father with your own unpracticed, awkward hands,\ +and will soothe him better than a skilled man who is a stranger could.\ +So it has been with Barclay. While Russia was well, a foreigner could\ +serve her and be a splendid minister; but as soon as she is in danger\ +she needs one of her own kin. But in your club they have been making him\ +out a traitor! They slander him as a traitor, and the only result will\ +be that afterwards, ashamed of their false accusations, they will make\ +him out a hero or a genius instead of a traitor, and that will be still\ +more unjust. He is an honest and very punctilious German."\ +\ +"And they say he's a skillful commander," rejoined Pierre.\ +\ +"I don't understand what is meant by 'a skillful commander,'" replied\ +Prince Andrew ironically.\ +\ +"A skillful commander?" replied Pierre. "Why, one who foresees all\ +contingencies... and foresees the adversary's intentions."\ +\ +"But that's impossible," said Prince Andrew as if it were a matter\ +settled long ago.\ +\ +Pierre looked at him in surprise.\ +\ +"And yet they say that war is like a game of chess?" he remarked.\ +\ +"Yes," replied Prince Andrew, "but with this little difference, that in\ +chess you may think over each move as long as you please and are not\ +limited for time, and with this difference too, that a knight is always\ +stronger than a pawn, and two pawns are always stronger than one, while\ +in war a battalion is sometimes stronger than a division and sometimes\ +weaker than a company. The relative strength of bodies of troops can\ +never be known to anyone. Believe me," he went on, "if things depended\ +on arrangements made by the staff, I should be there making\ +arrangements, but instead of that I have the honor to serve here in the\ +regiment with these gentlemen, and I consider that on us tomorrow's\ +battle will depend and not on those others.... Success never depends,\ +and never will depend, on position, or equipment, or even on numbers,\ +and least of all on position."\ +\ +"But on what then?"\ +\ +"On the feeling that is in me and in him," he pointed to Timokhin, "and\ +in each soldier."\ +\ +Prince Andrew glanced at Timokhin, who looked at his commander in alarm\ +and bewilderment. In contrast to his former reticent taciturnity Prince\ +Andrew now seemed excited. He could apparently not refrain from\ +expressing the thoughts that had suddenly occurred to him.\ +\ +"A battle is won by those who firmly resolve to win it! Why did we lose\ +the battle at Austerlitz? The French losses were almost equal to ours,\ +but very early we said to ourselves that we were losing the battle, and\ +we did lose it. And we said so because we had nothing to fight for\ +there, we wanted to get away from the battlefield as soon as we could.\ +'We've lost, so let us run,' and we ran. If we had not said that till\ +the evening, heaven knows what might not have happened. But tomorrow we\ +shan't say it! You talk about our position, the left flank weak and the\ +right flank too extended," he went on. "That's all nonsense, there's\ +nothing of the kind. But what awaits us tomorrow? A hundred million most\ +diverse chances which will be decided on the instant by the fact that\ +our men or theirs run or do not run, and that this man or that man is\ +killed, but all that is being done at present is only play. The fact is\ +that those men with whom you have ridden round the position not only do\ +not help matters, but hinder. They are only concerned with their own\ +petty interests."\ +\ +"At such a moment?" said Pierre reproachfully.\ +\ +"At such a moment!" Prince Andrew repeated. "To them it is only a moment\ +affording opportunities to undermine a rival and obtain an extra cross\ +or ribbon. For me tomorrow means this: a Russian army of a hundred\ +thousand and a French army of a hundred thousand have met to fight, and\ +the thing is that these two hundred thousand men will fight and the side\ +that fights more fiercely and spares itself least will win. And if you\ +like I will tell you that whatever happens and whatever muddles those at\ +the top may make, we shall win tomorrow's battle. Tomorrow, happen what\ +may, we shall win!"\ +\ +"There now, your excellency! That's the truth, the real truth," said\ +Timokhin. "Who would spare himself now? The soldiers in my battalion,\ +believe me, wouldn't drink their vodka! 'It's not the day for that!'\ +they say."\ +\ +All were silent. The officers rose. Prince Andrew went out of the shed\ +with them, giving final orders to the adjutant. After they had gone\ +Pierre approached Prince Andrew and was about to start a conversation\ +when they heard the clatter of three horses' hoofs on the road not far\ +from the shed, and looking in that direction Prince Andrew recognized\ +Wolzogen and Clausewitz accompanied by a Cossack. They rode close by\ +continuing to converse, and Prince Andrew involuntarily heard these\ +words:\ +\ +"Der Krieg muss in Raum verlegt werden. Der Ansicht kann ich nicht genug\ +Preis geben," * said one of them.\ +\ +\ +* "The war must be extended widely. I cannot sufficiently commend that\ +view."\ +\ +"Oh, ja," said the other, "der Zweck ist nur den Feind zu schw\'e4chen, so\ +kann man gewiss nicht den Verlust der Privat-Personen in Achtung\ +nehmen." *\ +\ +\ +* "Oh, yes, the only aim is to weaken the enemy, so of course one cannot\ +take into account the loss of private individuals."\ +\ +"Oh, no," agreed the other.\ +\ +"Extend widely!" said Prince Andrew with an angry snort, when they had\ +ridden past. "In that 'extend' were my father, son, and sister, at Bald\ +Hills. That's all the same to him! That's what I was saying to you--\ +those German gentlemen won't win the battle tomorrow but will only make\ +all the mess they can, because they have nothing in their German heads\ +but theories not worth an empty eggshell and haven't in their hearts the\ +one thing needed tomorrow--that which Timokhin has. They have yielded up\ +all Europe to him, and have now come to teach us. Fine teachers!" and\ +again his voice grew shrill.\ +\ +"So you think we shall win tomorrow's battle?" asked Pierre.\ +\ +"Yes, yes," answered Prince Andrew absently. "One thing I would do if I\ +had the power," he began again, "I would not take prisoners. Why take\ +prisoners? It's chivalry! The French have destroyed my home and are on\ +their way to destroy Moscow, they have outraged and are outraging me\ +every moment. They are my enemies. In my opinion they are all criminals.\ +And so thinks Timokhin and the whole army. They should be executed!\ +Since they are my foes they cannot be my friends, whatever may have been\ +said at Tilsit."\ +\ +"Yes, yes," muttered Pierre, looking with shining eyes at Prince Andrew.\ +"I quite agree with you!"\ +\ +The question that had perturbed Pierre on the Mozhaysk hill and all that\ +day now seemed to him quite clear and completely solved. He now\ +understood the whole meaning and importance of this war and of the\ +impending battle. All he had seen that day, all the significant and\ +stern expressions on the faces he had seen in passing, were lit up for\ +him by a new light. He understood that latent heat (as they say in\ +physics) of patriotism which was present in all these men he had seen,\ +and this explained to him why they all prepared for death calmly, and as\ +it were lightheartedly.\ +\ +"Not take prisoners," Prince Andrew continued: "That by itself would\ +quite change the whole war and make it less cruel. As it is we have\ +played at war--that's what's vile! We play at magnanimity and all that\ +stuff. Such magnanimity and sensibility are like the magnanimity and\ +sensibility of a lady who faints when she sees a calf being killed: she\ +is so kindhearted that she can't look at blood, but enjoys eating the\ +calf served up with sauce. They talk to us of the rules of war, of\ +chivalry, of flags of truce, of mercy to the unfortunate and so on. It's\ +all rubbish! I saw chivalry and flags of truce in 1805; they humbugged\ +us and we humbugged them. They plunder other people's houses, issue\ +false paper money, and worst of all they kill my children and my father,\ +and then talk of rules of war and magnanimity to foes! Take no\ +prisoners, but kill and be killed! He who has come to this as I have\ +through the same sufferings..."\ +\ +Prince Andrew, who had thought it was all the same to him whether or not\ +Moscow was taken as Smolensk had been, was suddenly checked in his\ +speech by an unexpected cramp in his throat. He paced up and down a few\ +times in silence, but his eyes glittered feverishly and his lips\ +quivered as he began speaking.\ +\ +"If there was none of this magnanimity in war, we should go to war only\ +when it was worth while going to certain death, as now. Then there would\ +not be war because Paul Ivanovich had offended Michael Ivanovich. And\ +when there was a war, like this one, it would be war! And then the\ +determination of the troops would be quite different. Then all these\ +Westphalians and Hessians whom Napoleon is leading would not follow him\ +into Russia, and we should not go to fight in Austria and Prussia\ +without knowing why. War is not courtesy but the most horrible thing in\ +life; and we ought to understand that and not play at war. We ought to\ +accept this terrible necessity sternly and seriously. It all lies in\ +that: get rid of falsehood and let war be war and not a game. As it is\ +now, war is the favorite pastime of the idle and frivolous. The military\ +calling is the most highly honored.\ +\ +"But what is war? What is needed for success in warfare? What are the\ +habits of the military? The aim of war is murder; the methods of war are\ +spying, treachery, and their encouragement, the ruin of a country's\ +inhabitants, robbing them or stealing to provision the army, and fraud\ +and falsehood termed military craft. The habits of the military class\ +are the absence of freedom, that is, discipline, idleness, ignorance,\ +cruelty, debauchery, and drunkenness. And in spite of all this it is the\ +highest class, respected by everyone. All the kings, except the Chinese,\ +wear military uniforms, and he who kills most people receives the\ +highest rewards.\ +\ +"They meet, as we shall meet tomorrow, to murder one another; they kill\ +and maim tens of thousands, and then have thanksgiving services for\ +having killed so many people (they even exaggerate the number), and they\ +announce a victory, supposing that the more people they have killed the\ +greater their achievement. How does God above look at them and hear\ +them?" exclaimed Prince Andrew in a shrill, piercing voice. "Ah, my\ +friend, it has of late become hard for me to live. I see that I have\ +begun to understand too much. And it doesn't do for man to taste of the\ +tree of knowledge of good and evil.... Ah, well, it's not for long!" he\ +added.\ +\ +"However, you're sleepy, and it's time for me to sleep. Go back to\ +Gorki!" said Prince Andrew suddenly.\ +\ +"Oh no!" Pierre replied, looking at Prince Andrew with frightened,\ +compassionate eyes.\ +\ +"Go, go! Before a battle one must have one's sleep out," repeated Prince\ +Andrew.\ +\ +He came quickly up to Pierre and embraced and kissed him. "Good-bye, be\ +off!" he shouted. "Whether we meet again or not..." and turning away\ +hurriedly he entered the shed.\ +\ +It was already dark, and Pierre could not make out whether the\ +expression of Prince Andrew's face was angry or tender.\ +\ +For some time he stood in silence considering whether he should follow\ +him or go away. "No, he does not want it!" Pierre concluded. "And I know\ +that this is our last meeting!" He sighed deeply and rode back to Gorki.\ +\ +On re-entering the shed Prince Andrew lay down on a rug, but he could\ +not sleep.\ +\ +He closed his eyes. One picture succeeded another in his imagination. On\ +one of them he dwelt long and joyfully. He vividly recalled an evening\ +in Petersburg. Natasha with animated and excited face was telling him\ +how she had gone to look for mushrooms the previous summer and had lost\ +her way in the big forest. She incoherently described the depths of the\ +forest, her feelings, and a talk with a beekeeper she met, and\ +constantly interrupted her story to say: "No, I can't! I'm not telling\ +it right; no, you don't understand," though he encouraged her by saying\ +that he did understand, and he really had understood all she wanted to\ +say. But Natasha was not satisfied with her own words: she felt that\ +they did not convey the passionately poetic feeling she had experienced\ +that day and wished to convey. "He was such a delightful old man, and it\ +was so dark in the forest... and he had such kind... No, I can't\ +describe it," she had said, flushed and excited. Prince Andrew smiled\ +now the same happy smile as then when he had looked into her eyes. "I\ +understood her," he thought. "I not only understood her, but it was just\ +that inner, spiritual force, that sincerity, that frankness of soul--\ +that very soul of hers which seemed to be fettered by her body--it was\ +that soul I loved in her... loved so strongly and happily..." and\ +suddenly he remembered how his love had ended. "He did not need anything\ +of that kind. He neither saw nor understood anything of the sort. He\ +only saw in her a pretty and fresh young girl, with whom he did not\ +deign to unite his fate. And I?... and he is still alive and gay!"\ +\ +Prince Andrew jumped up as if someone had burned him, and again began\ +pacing up and down in front of the shed.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XXVI\ +\ +On August 25, the eve of the battle of Borodino, M. de Beausset, prefect\ +of the French Emperor's palace, arrived at Napoleon's quarters at\ +Valuevo with Colonel Fabvier, the former from Paris and the latter from\ +Madrid.\ +\ +Donning his court uniform, M. de Beausset ordered a box he had brought\ +for the Emperor to be carried before him and entered the first\ +compartment of Napoleon's tent, where he began opening the box while\ +conversing with Napoleon's aides-de-camp who surrounded him.\ +\ +Fabvier, not entering the tent, remained at the entrance talking to some\ +generals of his acquaintance.\ +\ +The Emperor Napoleon had not yet left his bedroom and was finishing his\ +toilet. Slightly snorting and grunting, he presented now his back and\ +now his plump hairy chest to the brush with which his valet was rubbing\ +him down. Another valet, with his finger over the mouth of a bottle, was\ +sprinkling Eau de Cologne on the Emperor's pampered body with an\ +expression which seemed to say that he alone knew where and how much Eau\ +de Cologne should be sprinkled. Napoleon's short hair was wet and matted\ +on the forehead, but his face, though puffy and yellow, expressed\ +physical satisfaction. "Go on, harder, go on!" he muttered to the valet\ +who was rubbing him, slightly twitching and grunting. An aide-de-camp,\ +who had entered the bedroom to report to the Emperor the number of\ +prisoners taken in yesterday's action, was standing by the door after\ +delivering his message, awaiting permission to withdraw. Napoleon,\ +frowning, looked at him from under his brows.\ +\ +"No prisoners!" said he, repeating the aide-de-camp's words. "They are\ +forcing us to exterminate them. So much the worse for the Russian\ +army.... Go on... harder, harder!" he muttered, hunching his back and\ +presenting his fat shoulders.\ +\ +"All right. Let Monsieur de Beausset enter, and Fabvier too," he said,\ +nodding to the aide-de-camp.\ +\ +"Yes, sire," and the aide-de-camp disappeared through the door of the\ +tent.\ +\ +Two valets rapidly dressed His Majesty, and wearing the blue uniform of\ +the Guards he went with firm quick steps to the reception room.\ +\ +De Beausset's hands meanwhile were busily engaged arranging the present\ +he had brought from the Empress, on two chairs directly in front of the\ +entrance. But Napoleon had dressed and come out with such unexpected\ +rapidity that he had not time to finish arranging the surprise.\ +\ +Napoleon noticed at once what they were about and guessed that they were\ +not ready. He did not wish to deprive them of the pleasure of giving him\ +a surprise, so he pretended not to see de Beausset and called Fabvier to\ +him, listening silently and with a stern frown to what Fabvier told him\ +of the heroism and devotion of his troops fighting at Salamanca, at the\ +other end of Europe, with but one thought--to be worthy of their\ +Emperor--and but one fear--to fail to please him. The result of that\ +battle had been deplorable. Napoleon made ironic remarks during\ +Fabvier's account, as if he had not expected that matters could go\ +otherwise in his absence.\ +\ +"I must make up for that in Moscow," said Napoleon. "I'll see you\ +later," he added, and summoned de Beausset, who by that time had\ +prepared the surprise, having placed something on the chairs and covered\ +it with a cloth.\ +\ +De Beausset bowed low, with that courtly French bow which only the old\ +retainers of the Bourbons knew how to make, and approached him,\ +presenting an envelope.\ +\ +Napoleon turned to him gaily and pulled his ear.\ +\ +"You have hurried here. I am very glad. Well, what is Paris saying?" he\ +asked, suddenly changing his former stern expression for a most cordial\ +tone.\ +\ +"Sire, all Paris regrets your absence," replied de Beausset as was\ +proper.\ +\ +But though Napoleon knew that de Beausset had to say something of this\ +kind, and though in his lucid moments he knew it was untrue, he was\ +pleased to hear it from him. Again he honored him by touching his ear.\ +\ +"I am very sorry to have made you travel so far," said he.\ +\ +"Sire, I expected nothing less than to find you at the gates of Moscow,"\ +replied de Beausset.\ +\ +Napoleon smiled and, lifting his head absent-mindedly, glanced to the\ +right. An aide-de-camp approached with gliding steps and offered him a\ +gold snuffbox, which he took.\ +\ +"Yes, it has happened luckily for you," he said, raising the open\ +snuffbox to his nose. "You are fond of travel, and in three days you\ +will see Moscow. You surely did not expect to see that Asiatic capital.\ +You will have a pleasant journey."\ +\ +De Beausset bowed gratefully at this regard for his taste for travel (of\ +which he had not till then been aware).\ +\ +"Ha, what's this?" asked Napoleon, noticing that all the courtiers were\ +looking at something concealed under a cloth.\ +\ +With courtly adroitness de Beausset half turned and without turning his\ +back to the Emperor retired two steps, twitching off the cloth at the\ +same time, and said:\ +\ +"A present to Your Majesty from the Empress."\ +\ +It was a portrait, painted in bright colors by Gerard, of the son borne\ +to Napoleon by the daughter of the Emperor of Austria, the boy whom for\ +some reason everyone called "The King of Rome."\ +\ +A very pretty curly-headed boy with a look of the Christ in the Sistine\ +Madonna was depicted playing at stick and ball. The ball represented the\ +terrestrial globe and the stick in his other hand a scepter.\ +\ +Though it was not clear what the artist meant to express by depicting\ +the so-called King of Rome spiking the earth with a stick, the allegory\ +apparently seemed to Napoleon, as it had done to all who had seen it in\ +Paris, quite clear and very pleasing.\ +\ +"The King of Rome!" he said, pointing to the portrait with a graceful\ +gesture. "Admirable!"\ +\ +With the natural capacity of an Italian for changing the expression of\ +his face at will, he drew nearer to the portrait and assumed a look of\ +pensive tenderness. He felt that what he now said and did would be\ +historical, and it seemed to him that it would now be best for him--\ +whose grandeur enabled his son to play stick and ball with the\ +terrestrial globe--to show, in contrast to that grandeur, the simplest\ +paternal tenderness. His eyes grew dim, he moved forward, glanced round\ +at a chair (which seemed to place itself under him), and sat down on it\ +before the portrait. At a single gesture from him everyone went out on\ +tiptoe, leaving the great man to himself and his emotion.\ +\ +Having sat still for a while he touched--himself not knowing why--the\ +thick spot of paint representing the highest light in the portrait,\ +rose, and recalled de Beausset and the officer on duty. He ordered the\ +portrait to be carried outside his tent, that the Old Guard, stationed\ +round it, might not be deprived of the pleasure of seeing the King of\ +Rome, the son and heir of their adored monarch.\ +\ +And while he was doing M. de Beausset the honor of breakfasting with\ +him, they heard, as Napoleon had anticipated, the rapturous cries of the\ +officers and men of the Old Guard who had run up to see the portrait.\ +\ +"Vive l'Empereur! Vive le roi de Rome! Vive l'Empereur!" came those\ +ecstatic cries.\ +\ +After breakfast Napoleon in de Beausset's presence dictated his order of\ +the day to the army.\ +\ +"Short and energetic!" he remarked when he had read over the\ +proclamation which he had dictated straight off without corrections. It\ +ran:\ +\ +Soldiers! This is the battle you have so longed for. Victory depends on\ +you. It is essential for us; it will give us all we need: comfortable\ +quarters and a speedy return to our country. Behave as you did at\ +Austerlitz, Friedland, Vitebsk, and Smolensk. Let our remotest posterity\ +recall your achievements this day with pride. Let it be said of each of\ +you: "He was in the great battle before Moscow!"\ +\ +"Before Moscow!" repeated Napoleon, and inviting M. de Beausset, who was\ +so fond of travel, to accompany him on his ride, he went out of the tent\ +to where the horses stood saddled.\ +\ +"Your Majesty is too kind!" replied de Beausset to the invitation to\ +accompany the Emperor; he wanted to sleep, did not know how to ride and\ +was afraid of doing so.\ +\ +But Napoleon nodded to the traveler, and de Beausset had to mount. When\ +Napoleon came out of the tent the shouting of the Guards before his\ +son's portrait grew still louder. Napoleon frowned.\ +\ +"Take him away!" he said, pointing with a gracefully majestic gesture to\ +the portrait. "It is too soon for him to see a field of battle."\ +\ +De Beausset closed his eyes, bowed his head, and sighed deeply, to\ +indicate how profoundly he valued and comprehended the Emperor's words.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XXVII\ +\ +On the twenty-fifth of August, so his historians tell us, Napoleon spent\ +the whole day on horseback inspecting the locality, considering plans\ +submitted to him by his marshals, and personally giving commands to his\ +generals.\ +\ +The original line of the Russian forces along the river Kolocha had been\ +dislocated by the capture of the Shevardino Redoubt on the twenty-\ +fourth, and part of the line--the left flank--had been drawn back. That\ +part of the line was not entrenched and in front of it the ground was\ +more open and level than elsewhere. It was evident to anyone, military\ +or not, that it was here the French should attack. It would seem that\ +not much consideration was needed to reach this conclusion, nor any\ +particular care or trouble on the part of the Emperor and his marshals,\ +nor was there any need of that special and supreme quality called genius\ +that people are so apt to ascribe to Napoleon; yet the historians who\ +described the event later and the men who then surrounded Napoleon, and\ +he himself, thought otherwise.\ +\ +Napoleon rode over the plain and surveyed the locality with a profound\ +air and in silence, nodded with approval or shook his head dubiously,\ +and without communicating to the generals around him the profound course\ +of ideas which guided his decisions merely gave them his final\ +conclusions in the form of commands. Having listened to a suggestion\ +from Davout, who was now called Prince d'Eckmuhl, to turn the Russian\ +left wing, Napoleon said it should not be done, without explaining why\ +not. To a proposal made by General Campan (who was to attack the\ +fleches) to lead his division through the woods, Napoleon agreed, though\ +the so-called Duke of Elchingen (Ney) ventured to remark that a movement\ +through the woods was dangerous and might disorder the division.\ +\ +Having inspected the country opposite the Shevardino Redoubt, Napoleon\ +pondered a little in silence and then indicated the spots where two\ +batteries should be set up by the morrow to act against the Russian\ +entrenchments, and the places where, in line with them, the field\ +artillery should be placed.\ +\ +After giving these and other commands he returned to his tent, and the\ +dispositions for the battle were written down from his dictation.\ +\ +These dispositions, of which the French historians write with enthusiasm\ +and other historians with profound respect, were as follows:\ +\ +At dawn the two new batteries established during the night on the plain\ +occupied by the Prince d'Eckmuhl will open fire on the opposing\ +batteries of the enemy.\ +\ +At the same time the commander of the artillery of the 1st Corps,\ +General Pernetti, with thirty cannon of Campan's division and all the\ +howitzers of Dessaix's and Friant's divisions, will move forward, open\ +fire, and overwhelm with shellfire the enemy's battery, against which\ +will operate:\ +\ +\ +24 guns of the artillery of the Guards 30 guns of Campan's division\ +\ +and 8 guns of Friant's and Dessaix's divisions --\ +\ +in all 62 guns.\ +\ +The commander of the artillery of the 3rd Corps, General Fouche, will\ +place the howitzers of the 3rd and 8th Corps, sixteen in all, on the\ +flanks of the battery that is to bombard the entrenchment on the left,\ +which will have forty guns in all directed against it.\ +\ +General Sorbier must be ready at the first order to advance with all the\ +howitzers of the Guard's artillery against either one or other of the\ +entrenchments.\ +\ +During the cannonade Prince Poniatowski is to advance through the wood\ +on the village and turn the enemy's position.\ +\ +General Campan will move through the wood to seize the first\ +fortification.\ +\ +After the advance has begun in this manner, orders will be given in\ +accordance with the enemy's movements.\ +\ +The cannonade on the left flank will begin as soon as the guns of the\ +right wing are heard. The sharpshooters of Morand's division and of the\ +vice-King's division will open a heavy fire on seeing the attack\ +commence on the right wing.\ +\ +The vice-King will occupy the village and cross by its three bridges,\ +advancing to the same heights as Morand's and Gibrard's divisions, which\ +under his leadership will be directed against the redoubt and come into\ +line with the rest of the forces.\ +\ +All this must be done in good order (le tout se fera avec ordre et\ +methode) as far as possible retaining troops in reserve.\ +\ +The Imperial Camp near Mozhaysk,\ +\ +September, 6, 1812.\ +\ +These dispositions, which are very obscure and confused if one allows\ +oneself to regard the arrangements without religious awe of his genius,\ +related to Napoleon's orders to deal with four points--four different\ +orders. Not one of these was, or could be, carried out.\ +\ +In the disposition it is said first that the batteries placed on the\ +spot chosen by Napoleon, with the guns of Pernetti and Fouche; which\ +were to come in line with them, 102 guns in all, were to open fire and\ +shower shells on the Russian fleches and redoubts. This could not be\ +done, as from the spots selected by Napoleon the projectiles did not\ +carry to the Russian works, and those 102 guns shot into the air until\ +the nearest commander, contrary to Napoleon's instructions, moved them\ +forward.\ +\ +The second order was that Poniatowski, moving to the village through the\ +wood, should turn the Russian left flank. This could not be done and was\ +not done, because Poniatowski, advancing on the village through the\ +wood, met Tuchkov there barring his way, and could not and did not turn\ +the Russian position.\ +\ +The third order was: General Campan will move through the wood to seize\ +the first fortification. General Campan's division did not seize the\ +first fortification but was driven back, for on emerging from the wood\ +it had to reform under grapeshot, of which Napoleon was unaware.\ +\ +The fourth order was: The vice-King will occupy the village (Borodino)\ +and cross by its three bridges, advancing to the same heights as\ +Morand's and Gibrard's divisions (for whose movements no directions are\ +given), which under his leadership will be directed against the redoubt\ +and come into line with the rest of the forces.\ +\ +As far as one can make out, not so much from this unintelligible\ +sentence as from the attempts the vice-King made to execute the orders\ +given him, he was to advance from the left through Borodino to the\ +redoubt while the divisions of Morand and Gerard were to advance\ +simultaneously from the front.\ +\ +All this, like the other parts of the disposition, was not and could not\ +be executed. After passing through Borodino the vice-King was driven\ +back to the Kolocha and could get no farther; while the divisions of\ +Morand and Gerard did not take the redoubt but were driven back, and the\ +redoubt was only taken at the end of the battle by the cavalry (a thing\ +probably unforeseen and not heard of by Napoleon). So not one of the\ +orders in the disposition was, or could be, executed. But in the\ +disposition it is said that, after the fight has commenced in this\ +manner, orders will be given in accordance with the enemy's movements,\ +and so it might be supposed that all necessary arrangements would be\ +made by Napoleon during the battle. But this was not and could not be\ +done, for during the whole battle Napoleon was so far away that, as\ +appeared later, he could not know the course of the battle and not one\ +of his orders during the fight could be executed.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XXVIII\ +\ +Many historians say that the French did not win the battle of Borodino\ +because Napoleon had a cold, and that if he had not had a cold the\ +orders he gave before and during the battle would have been still more\ +full of genius and Russia would have been lost and the face of the world\ +have been changed. To historians who believe that Russia was shaped by\ +the will of one man--Peter the Great--and that France from a republic\ +became an empire and French armies went to Russia at the will of one\ +man--Napoleon--to say that Russia remained a power because Napoleon had\ +a bad cold on the twenty-fourth of August may seem logical and\ +convincing.\ +\ +If it had depended on Napoleon's will to fight or not to fight the\ +battle of Borodino, and if this or that other arrangement depended on\ +his will, then evidently a cold affecting the manifestation of his will\ +might have saved Russia, and consequently the valet who omitted to bring\ +Napoleon his waterproof boots on the twenty-fourth would have been the\ +savior of Russia. Along that line of thought such a deduction is\ +indubitable, as indubitable as the deduction Voltaire made in jest\ +(without knowing what he was jesting at) when he saw that the Massacre\ +of St. Bartholomew was due to Charles IX's stomach being deranged. But\ +to men who do not admit that Russia was formed by the will of one man,\ +Peter I, or that the French Empire was formed and the war with Russia\ +begun by the will of one man, Napoleon, that argument seems not merely\ +untrue and irrational, but contrary to all human reality. To the\ +question of what causes historic events another answer presents itself,\ +namely, that the course of human events is predetermined from on high--\ +depends on the coincidence of the wills of all who take part in the\ +events, and that a Napoleon's influence on the course of these events is\ +purely external and fictitious.\ +\ +Strange as at first glance it may seem to suppose that the Massacre of\ +St. Bartholomew was not due to Charles IX's will, though he gave the\ +order for it and thought it was done as a result of that order; and\ +strange as it may seem to suppose that the slaughter of eighty thousand\ +men at Borodino was not due to Napoleon's will, though he ordered the\ +commencement and conduct of the battle and thought it was done because\ +he ordered it; strange as these suppositions appear, yet human dignity--\ +which tells me that each of us is, if not more at least not less a man\ +than the great Napoleon--demands the acceptance of that solution of the\ +question, and historic investigation abundantly confirms it.\ +\ +At the battle of Borodino Napoleon shot at no one and killed no one.\ +That was all done by the soldiers. Therefore it was not he who killed\ +people.\ +\ +The French soldiers went to kill and be killed at the battle of Borodino\ +not because of Napoleon's orders but by their own volition. The whole\ +army--French, Italian, German, Polish, and Dutch--hungry, ragged, and\ +weary of the campaign, felt at the sight of an army blocking their road\ +to Moscow that the wine was drawn and must be drunk. Had Napoleon then\ +forbidden them to fight the Russians, they would have killed him and\ +have proceeded to fight the Russians because it was inevitable.\ +\ +When they heard Napoleon's proclamation offering them, as compensation\ +for mutilation and death, the words of posterity about their having been\ +in the battle before Moscow, they cried "Vive l'Empereur!" just as they\ +had cried "Vive l'Empereur!" at the sight of the portrait of the boy\ +piercing the terrestrial globe with a toy stick, and just as they would\ +have cried "Vive l'Empereur!" at any nonsense that might be told them.\ +There was nothing left for them to do but cry "Vive l'Empereur!" and go\ +to fight, in order to get food and rest as conquerors in Moscow. So it\ +was not because of Napoleon's commands that they killed their fellow\ +men.\ +\ +And it was not Napoleon who directed the course of the battle, for none\ +of his orders were executed and during the battle he did not know what\ +was going on before him. So the way in which these people killed one\ +another was not decided by Napoleon's will but occurred independently of\ +him, in accord with the will of hundreds of thousands of people who took\ +part in the common action. It only seemed to Napoleon that it all took\ +place by his will. And so the question whether he had or had not a cold\ +has no more historic interest than the cold of the least of the\ +transport soldiers.\ +\ +Moreover, the assertion made by various writers that his cold was the\ +cause of his dispositions not being as well-planned as on former\ +occasions, and of his orders during the battle not being as good as\ +previously, is quite baseless, which again shows that Napoleon's cold on\ +the twenty-sixth of August was unimportant.\ +\ +The dispositions cited above are not at all worse, but are even better,\ +than previous dispositions by which he had won victories. His pseudo-\ +orders during the battle were also no worse than formerly, but much the\ +same as usual. These dispositions and orders only seem worse than\ +previous ones because the battle of Borodino was the first Napoleon did\ +not win. The profoundest and most excellent dispositions and orders seem\ +very bad, and every learned militarist criticizes them with looks of\ +importance, when they relate to a battle that has been lost, and the\ +very worst dispositions and orders seem very good, and serious people\ +fill whole volumes to demonstrate their merits, when they relate to a\ +battle that has been won.\ +\ +The dispositions drawn up by Weyrother for the battle of Austerlitz were\ +a model of perfection for that kind of composition, but still they were\ +criticized--criticized for their very perfection, for their excessive\ +minuteness.\ +\ +Napoleon at the battle of Borodino fulfilled his office as\ +representative of authority as well as, and even better than, at other\ +battles. He did nothing harmful to the progress of the battle; he\ +inclined to the most reasonable opinions, he made no confusion, did not\ +contradict himself, did not get frightened or run away from the field of\ +battle, but with his great tact and military experience carried out his\ +role of appearing to command, calmly and with dignity.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XXIX\ +\ +On returning from a second inspection of the lines, Napoleon remarked:\ +\ +"The chessmen are set up, the game will begin tomorrow!"\ +\ +Having ordered punch and summoned de Beausset, he began to talk to him\ +about Paris and about some changes he meant to make in the Empress'\ +household, surprising the prefect by his memory of minute details\ +relating to the court.\ +\ +He showed an interest in trifles, joked about de Beausset's love of\ +travel, and chatted carelessly, as a famous, self-confident surgeon who\ +knows his job does when turning up his sleeves and putting on his apron\ +while a patient is being strapped to the operating table. "The matter is\ +in my hands and is clear and definite in my head. When the time comes to\ +set to work I shall do it as no one else could, but now I can jest, and\ +the more I jest and the calmer I am the more tranquil and confident you\ +ought to be, and the more amazed at my genius."\ +\ +Having finished his second glass of punch, Napoleon went to rest before\ +the serious business which, he considered, awaited him next day. He was\ +so much interested in that task that he was unable to sleep, and in\ +spite of his cold which had grown worse from the dampness of the\ +evening, he went into the large division of the tent at three o'clock in\ +the morning, loudly blowing his nose. He asked whether the Russians had\ +not withdrawn, and was told that the enemy's fires were still in the\ +same places. He nodded approval.\ +\ +The adjutant in attendance came into the tent.\ +\ +"Well, Rapp, do you think we shall do good business today?" Napoleon\ +asked him.\ +\ +"Without doubt, sire," replied Rapp.\ +\ +Napoleon looked at him.\ +\ +"Do you remember, sire, what you did me the honor to say at Smolensk?"\ +continued Rapp. "The wine is drawn and must be drunk."\ +\ +Napoleon frowned and sat silent for a long time leaning his head on his\ +hand.\ +\ +"This poor army!" he suddenly remarked. "It has diminished greatly since\ +Smolensk. Fortune is frankly a courtesan, Rapp. I have always said so\ +and I am beginning to experience it. But the Guards, Rapp, the Guards\ +are intact?" he remarked interrogatively.\ +\ +"Yes, sire," replied Rapp.\ +\ +Napoleon took a lozenge, put it in his mouth, and glanced at his watch.\ +He was not sleepy and it was still not nearly morning. It was impossible\ +to give further orders for the sake of killing time, for the orders had\ +all been given and were now being executed.\ +\ +"Have the biscuits and rice been served out to the regiments of the\ +Guards?" asked Napoleon sternly.\ +\ +"Yes, sire."\ +\ +"The rice too?"\ +\ +Rapp replied that he had given the Emperor's order about the rice, but\ +Napoleon shook his head in dissatisfaction as if not believing that his\ +order had been executed. An attendant came in with punch. Napoleon\ +ordered another glass to be brought for Rapp, and silently sipped his\ +own.\ +\ +"I have neither taste nor smell," he remarked, sniffing at his glass.\ +"This cold is tiresome. They talk about medicine--what is the good of\ +medicine when it can't cure a cold! Corvisart gave me these lozenges but\ +they don't help at all. What can doctors cure? One can't cure anything.\ +Our body is a machine for living. It is organized for that, it is its\ +nature. Let life go on in it unhindered and let it defend itself, it\ +will do more than if you paralyze it by encumbering it with remedies.\ +Our body is like a perfect watch that should go for a certain time; the\ +watchmaker cannot open it, he can only adjust it by fumbling, and that\ +blindfold.... Yes, our body is just a machine for living, that is all."\ +\ +And having entered on the path of definition, of which he was fond,\ +Napoleon suddenly and unexpectedly gave a new one.\ +\ +"Do you know, Rapp, what military art is?" asked he. "It is the art of\ +being stronger than the enemy at a given moment. That's all."\ +\ +Rapp made no reply.\ +\ +"Tomorrow we shall have to deal with Kutuzov!" said Napoleon. "We shall\ +see! Do you remember at Braunau he commanded an army for three weeks and\ +did not once mount a horse to inspect his entrenchments.... We shall\ +see!"\ +\ +He looked at his watch. It was still only four o'clock. He did not feel\ +sleepy. The punch was finished and there was still nothing to do. He\ +rose, walked to and fro, put on a warm overcoat and a hat, and went out\ +of the tent. The night was dark and damp, a scarcely perceptible\ +moisture was descending from above. Near by, the campfires were dimly\ +burning among the French Guards, and in the distance those of the\ +Russian line shone through the smoke. The weather was calm, and the\ +rustle and tramp of the French troops already beginning to move to take\ +up their positions were clearly audible.\ +\ +Napoleon walked about in front of his tent, looked at the fires and\ +listened to these sounds, and as he was passing a tall guardsman in a\ +shaggy cap, who was standing sentinel before his tent and had drawn\ +himself up like a black pillar at sight of the Emperor, Napoleon stopped\ +in front of him.\ +\ +"What year did you enter the service?" he asked with that affectation of\ +military bluntness and geniality with which he always addressed the\ +soldiers.\ +\ +The man answered the question.\ +\ +"Ah! One of the old ones! Has your regiment had its rice?"\ +\ +"It has, Your Majesty."\ +\ +Napoleon nodded and walked away.\ +\ +At half-past five Napoleon rode to the village of Shevardino.\ +\ +It was growing light, the sky was clearing, only a single cloud lay in\ +the east. The abandoned campfires were burning themselves out in the\ +faint morning light.\ +\ +On the right a single deep report of a cannon resounded and died away in\ +the prevailing silence. Some minutes passed. A second and a third report\ +shook the air, then a fourth and a fifth boomed solemnly near by on the\ +right.\ +\ +The first shots had not yet ceased to reverberate before others rang out\ +and yet more were heard mingling with and overtaking one another.\ +\ +Napoleon with his suite rode up to the Shevardino Redoubt where he\ +dismounted. The game had begun.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XXX\ +\ +On returning to Gorki after having seen Prince Andrew, Pierre ordered\ +his groom to get the horses ready and to call him early in the morning,\ +and then immediately fell asleep behind a partition in a corner Boris\ +had given up to him.\ +\ +Before he was thoroughly awake next morning everybody had already left\ +the hut. The panes were rattling in the little windows and his groom was\ +shaking him.\ +\ +"Your excellency! Your excellency! Your excellency!" he kept repeating\ +pertinaciously while he shook Pierre by the shoulder without looking at\ +him, having apparently lost hope of getting him to wake up.\ +\ +"What? Has it begun? Is it time?" Pierre asked, waking up.\ +\ +"Hear the firing," said the groom, a discharged soldier. "All the\ +gentlemen have gone out, and his Serene Highness himself rode past long\ +ago."\ +\ +Pierre dressed hastily and ran out to the porch. Outside all was bright,\ +fresh, dewy, and cheerful. The sun, just bursting forth from behind a\ +cloud that had concealed it, was shining, with rays still half broken by\ +the clouds, over the roofs of the street opposite, on the dew-\ +besprinkled dust of the road, on the walls of the houses, on the\ +windows, the fence, and on Pierre's horses standing before the hut. The\ +roar of guns sounded more distinct outside. An adjutant accompanied by a\ +Cossack passed by at a sharp trot.\ +\ +"It's time, Count; it's time!" cried the adjutant.\ +\ +Telling the groom to follow him with the horses, Pierre went down the\ +street to the knoll from which he had looked at the field of battle the\ +day before. A crowd of military men was assembled there, members of the\ +staff could be heard conversing in French, and Kutuzov's gray head in a\ +white cap with a red band was visible, his gray nape sunk between his\ +shoulders. He was looking through a field glass down the highroad before\ +him.\ +\ +Mounting the steps to the knoll Pierre looked at the scene before him,\ +spellbound by beauty. It was the same panorama he had admired from that\ +spot the day before, but now the whole place was full of troops and\ +covered by smoke clouds from the guns, and the slanting rays of the\ +bright sun, rising slightly to the left behind Pierre, cast upon it\ +through the clear morning air penetrating streaks of rosy, golden-tinted\ +light and long dark shadows. The forest at the farthest extremity of the\ +panorama seemed carved in some precious stone of a yellowish-green\ +color; its undulating outline was silhouetted against the horizon and\ +was pierced beyond Valuevo by the Smolensk highroad crowded with troops.\ +Nearer at hand glittered golden cornfields interspersed with copses.\ +There were troops to be seen everywhere, in front and to the right and\ +left. All this was vivid, majestic, and unexpected; but what impressed\ +Pierre most of all was the view of the battlefield itself, of Borodino\ +and the hollows on both sides of the Kolocha.\ +\ +Above the Kolocha, in Borodino and on both sides of it, especially to\ +the left where the Voyna flowing between its marshy banks falls into the\ +Kolocha, a mist had spread which seemed to melt, to dissolve, and to\ +become translucent when the brilliant sun appeared and magically colored\ +and outlined everything. The smoke of the guns mingled with this mist,\ +and over the whole expanse and through that mist the rays of the morning\ +sun were reflected, flashing back like lightning from the water, from\ +the dew, and from the bayonets of the troops crowded together by the\ +riverbanks and in Borodino. A white church could be seen through the\ +mist, and here and there the roofs of huts in Borodino as well as dense\ +masses of soldiers, or green ammunition chests and ordnance. And all\ +this moved, or seemed to move, as the smoke and mist spread out over the\ +whole space. Just as in the mist-enveloped hollow near Borodino, so\ +along the entire line outside and above it and especially in the woods\ +and fields to the left, in the valleys and on the summits of the high\ +ground, clouds of powder smoke seemed continually to spring up out of\ +nothing, now singly, now several at a time, some translucent, others\ +dense, which, swelling, growing, rolling, and blending, extended over\ +the whole expanse.\ +\ +These puffs of smoke and (strange to say) the sound of the firing\ +produced the chief beauty of the spectacle.\ +\ +"Puff!"--suddenly a round compact cloud of smoke was seen merging from\ +violet into gray and milky white, and "boom!" came the report a second\ +later.\ +\ +"Puff! puff!"--and two clouds arose pushing one another and blending\ +together; and "boom, boom!" came the sounds confirming what the eye had\ +seen.\ +\ +Pierre glanced round at the first cloud, which he had seen as a round\ +compact ball, and in its place already were balloons of smoke floating\ +to one side, and--"puff" (with a pause)--"puff, puff!" three and then\ +four more appeared and then from each, with the same interval--"boom--\ +boom, boom!" came the fine, firm, precise sounds in reply. It seemed as\ +if those smoke clouds sometimes ran and sometimes stood still while\ +woods, fields, and glittering bayonets ran past them. From the left,\ +over fields and bushes, those large balls of smoke were continually\ +appearing followed by their solemn reports, while nearer still, in the\ +hollows and woods, there burst from the muskets small cloudlets that had\ +no time to become balls, but had their little echoes in just the same\ +way. "Trakh-ta-ta-takh!" came the frequent crackle of musketry, but it\ +was irregular and feeble in comparison with the reports of the cannon.\ +\ +Pierre wished to be there with that smoke, those shining bayonets, that\ +movement, and those sounds. He turned to look at Kutuzov and his suite,\ +to compare his impressions with those of others. They were all looking\ +at the field of battle as he was, and, as it seemed to him, with the\ +same feelings. All their faces were now shining with that latent warmth\ +of feeling Pierre had noticed the day before and had fully understood\ +after his talk with Prince Andrew.\ +\ +"Go, my dear fellow, go... and Christ be with you!" Kutuzov was saying\ +to a general who stood beside him, not taking his eye from the\ +battlefield.\ +\ +Having received this order the general passed by Pierre on his way down\ +the knoll.\ +\ +"To the crossing!" said the general coldly and sternly in reply to one\ +of the staff who asked where he was going.\ +\ +"I'll go there too, I too!" thought Pierre, and followed the general.\ +\ +The general mounted a horse a Cossack had brought him. Pierre went to\ +his groom who was holding his horses and, asking which was the quietest,\ +clambered onto it, seized it by the mane, and turning out his toes\ +pressed his heels against its sides and, feeling that his spectacles\ +were slipping off but unable to let go of the mane and reins, he\ +galloped after the general, causing the staff officers to smile as they\ +watched him from the knoll.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XXXI\ +\ +Having descended the hill the general after whom Pierre was galloping\ +turned sharply to the left, and Pierre, losing sight of him, galloped in\ +among some ranks of infantry marching ahead of him. He tried to pass\ +either in front of them or to the right or left, but there were soldiers\ +everywhere, all with the same preoccupied expression and busy with some\ +unseen but evidently important task. They all gazed with the same\ +dissatisfied and inquiring expression at this stout man in a white hat,\ +who for some unknown reason threatened to trample them under his horse's\ +hoofs.\ +\ +"Why ride into the middle of the battalion?" one of them shouted at him.\ +\ +Another prodded his horse with the butt end of a musket, and Pierre,\ +bending over his saddlebow and hardly able to control his shying horse,\ +galloped ahead of the soldiers where there was a free space.\ +\ +There was a bridge ahead of him, where other soldiers stood firing.\ +Pierre rode up to them. Without being aware of it he had come to the\ +bridge across the Kolocha between Gorki and Borodino, which the French\ +(having occupied Borodino) were attacking in the first phase of the\ +battle. Pierre saw that there was a bridge in front of him and that\ +soldiers were doing something on both sides of it and in the meadow,\ +among the rows of new-mown hay which he had taken no notice of amid the\ +smoke of the campfires the day before; but despite the incessant firing\ +going on there he had no idea that this was the field of battle. He did\ +not notice the sound of the bullets whistling from every side, or the\ +projectiles that flew over him, did not see the enemy on the other side\ +of the river, and for a long time did not notice the killed and wounded,\ +though many fell near him. He looked about him with a smile which did\ +not leave his face.\ +\ +"Why's that fellow in front of the line?" shouted somebody at him again.\ +\ +"To the left!... Keep to the right!" the men shouted to him.\ +\ +Pierre went to the right, and unexpectedly encountered one of Raevski's\ +adjutants whom he knew. The adjutant looked angrily at him, evidently\ +also intending to shout at him, but on recognizing him he nodded.\ +\ +"How have you got here?" he said, and galloped on.\ +\ +Pierre, feeling out of place there, having nothing to do, and afraid of\ +getting in someone's way again, galloped after the adjutant.\ +\ +"What's happening here? May I come with you?" he asked.\ +\ +"One moment, one moment!" replied the adjutant, and riding up to a stout\ +colonel who was standing in the meadow, he gave him some message and\ +then addressed Pierre.\ +\ +"Why have you come here, Count?" he asked with a smile. "Still\ +inquisitive?"\ +\ +"Yes, yes," assented Pierre.\ +\ +But the adjutant turned his horse about and rode on.\ +\ +"Here it's tolerable," said he, "but with Bagration on the left flank\ +they're getting it frightfully hot."\ +\ +"Really?" said Pierre. "Where is that?"\ +\ +"Come along with me to our knoll. We can get a view from there and in\ +our battery it is still bearable," said the adjutant. "Will you come?"\ +\ +"Yes, I'll come with you," replied Pierre, looking round for his groom.\ +\ +It was only now that he noticed wounded men staggering along or being\ +carried on stretchers. On that very meadow he had ridden over the day\ +before, a soldier was lying athwart the rows of scented hay, with his\ +head thrown awkwardly back and his shako off.\ +\ +"Why haven't they carried him away?" Pierre was about to ask, but seeing\ +the stern expression of the adjutant who was also looking that way, he\ +checked himself.\ +\ +Pierre did not find his groom and rode along the hollow with the\ +adjutant to Raevski's Redoubt. His horse lagged behind the adjutant's\ +and jolted him at every step.\ +\ +"You don't seem to be used to riding, Count?" remarked the adjutant.\ +\ +"No it's not that, but her action seems so jerky," said Pierre in a\ +puzzled tone.\ +\ +"Why... she's wounded!" said the adjutant. "In the off foreleg above the\ +knee. A bullet, no doubt. I congratulate you, Count, on your baptism of\ +fire!"\ +\ +Having ridden in the smoke past the Sixth Corps, behind the artillery\ +which had been moved forward and was in action, deafening them with the\ +noise of firing, they came to a small wood. There it was cool and quiet,\ +with a scent of autumn. Pierre and the adjutant dismounted and walked up\ +the hill on foot.\ +\ +"Is the general here?" asked the adjutant on reaching the knoll.\ +\ +"He was here a minute ago but has just gone that way," someone told him,\ +pointing to the right.\ +\ +The adjutant looked at Pierre as if puzzled what to do with him now.\ +\ +"Don't trouble about me," said Pierre. "I'll go up onto the knoll if I\ +may?"\ +\ +"Yes, do. You'll see everything from there and it's less dangerous, and\ +I'll come for you."\ +\ +Pierre went to the battery and the adjutant rode on. They did not meet\ +again, and only much later did Pierre learn that he lost an arm that\ +day.\ +\ +The knoll to which Pierre ascended was that famous one afterwards known\ +to the Russians as the Knoll Battery or Raevski's Redoubt, and to the\ +French as la grande redoute, la fatale redoute, la redoute du centre,\ +around which tens of thousands fell, and which the French regarded as\ +the key to the whole position.\ +\ +This redoubt consisted of a knoll, on three sides of which trenches had\ +been dug. Within the entrenchment stood ten guns that were being fired\ +through openings in the earthwork.\ +\ +In line with the knoll on both sides stood other guns which also fired\ +incessantly. A little behind the guns stood infantry. When ascending\ +that knoll Pierre had no notion that this spot, on which small trenches\ +had been dug and from which a few guns were firing, was the most\ +important point of the battle.\ +\ +On the contrary, just because he happened to be there he thought it one\ +of the least significant parts of the field.\ +\ +Having reached the knoll, Pierre sat down at one end of a trench\ +surrounding the battery and gazed at what was going on around him with\ +an unconsciously happy smile. Occasionally he rose and walked about the\ +battery still with that same smile, trying not to obstruct the soldiers\ +who were loading, hauling the guns, and continually running past him\ +with bags and charges. The guns of that battery were being fired\ +continually one after another with a deafening roar, enveloping the\ +whole neighborhood in powder smoke.\ +\ +In contrast with the dread felt by the infantrymen placed in support,\ +here in the battery where a small number of men busy at their work were\ +separated from the rest by a trench, everyone experienced a common and\ +as it were family feeling of animation.\ +\ +The intrusion of Pierre's nonmilitary figure in a white hat made an\ +unpleasant impression at first. The soldiers looked askance at him with\ +surprise and even alarm as they went past him. The senior artillery\ +officer, a tall, long-legged, pockmarked man, moved over to Pierre as if\ +to see the action of the farthest gun and looked at him with curiosity.\ +\ +A young round-faced officer, quite a boy still and evidently only just\ +out of the Cadet College, who was zealously commanding the two guns\ +entrusted to him, addressed Pierre sternly.\ +\ +"Sir," he said, "permit me to ask you to stand aside. You must not be\ +here."\ +\ +The soldiers shook their heads disapprovingly as they looked at Pierre.\ +But when they had convinced themselves that this man in the white hat\ +was doing no harm, but either sat quietly on the slope of the trench\ +with a shy smile or, politely making way for the soldiers, paced up and\ +down the battery under fire as calmly as if he were on a boulevard,\ +their feeling of hostile distrust gradually began to change into a\ +kindly and bantering sympathy, such as soldiers feel for their dogs,\ +cocks, goats, and in general for the animals that live with the\ +regiment. The men soon accepted Pierre into their family, adopted him,\ +gave him a nickname ("our gentleman"), and made kindly fun of him among\ +themselves.\ +\ +A shell tore up the earth two paces from Pierre and he looked around\ +with a smile as he brushed from his clothes some earth it had thrown up.\ +\ +"And how's it you're not afraid, sir, really now?" a red-faced, broad-\ +shouldered soldier asked Pierre, with a grin that disclosed a set of\ +sound, white teeth.\ +\ +"Are you afraid, then?" said Pierre.\ +\ +"What else do you expect?" answered the soldier. "She has no mercy, you\ +know! When she comes spluttering down, out go your innards. One can't\ +help being afraid," he said laughing.\ +\ +Several of the men, with bright kindly faces, stopped beside Pierre.\ +They seemed not to have expected him to talk like anybody else, and the\ +discovery that he did so delighted them.\ +\ +"It's the business of us soldiers. But in a gentleman it's wonderful!\ +There's a gentleman for you!"\ +\ +"To your places!" cried the young officer to the men gathered round\ +Pierre.\ +\ +The young officer was evidently exercising his duties for the first or\ +second time and therefore treated both his superiors and the men with\ +great precision and formality.\ +\ +The booming cannonade and the fusillade of musketry were growing more\ +intense over the whole field, especially to the left where Bagration's\ +fleches were, but where Pierre was the smoke of the firing made it\ +almost impossible to distinguish anything. Moreover, his whole attention\ +was engrossed by watching the family circle--separated from all else--\ +formed by the men in the battery. His first unconscious feeling of\ +joyful animation produced by the sights and sounds of the battlefield\ +was now replaced by another, especially since he had seen that soldier\ +lying alone in the hayfield. Now, seated on the slope of the trench, he\ +observed the faces of those around him.\ +\ +By ten o'clock some twenty men had already been carried away from the\ +battery; two guns were smashed and cannon balls fell more and more\ +frequently on the battery and spent bullets buzzed and whistled around.\ +But the men in the battery seemed not to notice this, and merry voices\ +and jokes were heard on all sides.\ +\ +"A live one!" shouted a man as a whistling shell approached.\ +\ +"Not this way! To the infantry!" added another with loud laughter,\ +seeing the shell fly past and fall into the ranks of the supports.\ +\ +"Are you bowing to a friend, eh?" remarked another, chaffing a peasant\ +who ducked low as a cannon ball flew over.\ +\ +Several soldiers gathered by the wall of the trench, looking out to see\ +what was happening in front.\ +\ +"They've withdrawn the front line, it has retired," said they, pointing\ +over the earthwork.\ +\ +"Mind your own business," an old sergeant shouted at them. "If they've\ +retired it's because there's work for them to do farther back."\ +\ +And the sergeant, taking one of the men by the shoulders, gave him a\ +shove with his knee. This was followed by a burst of laughter.\ +\ +"To the fifth gun, wheel it up!" came shouts from one side.\ +\ +"Now then, all together, like bargees!" rose the merry voices of those\ +who were moving the gun.\ +\ +"Oh, she nearly knocked our gentleman's hat off!" cried the red-faced\ +humorist, showing his teeth chaffing Pierre. "Awkward baggage!" he added\ +reproachfully to a cannon ball that struck a cannon wheel and a man's\ +leg.\ +\ +"Now then, you foxes!" said another, laughing at some militiamen who,\ +stooping low, entered the battery to carry away the wounded man.\ +\ +"So this gruel isn't to your taste? Oh, you crows! You're scared!" they\ +shouted at the militiamen who stood hesitating before the man whose leg\ +had been torn off.\ +\ +"There, lads... oh, oh!" they mimicked the peasants, "they don't like it\ +at all!"\ +\ +Pierre noticed that after every ball that hit the redoubt, and after\ +every loss, the liveliness increased more and more.\ +\ +As the flames of the fire hidden within come more and more vividly and\ +rapidly from an approaching thundercloud, so, as if in opposition to\ +what was taking place, the lightning of hidden fire growing more and\ +more intense glowed in the faces of these men.\ +\ +Pierre did not look out at the battlefield and was not concerned to know\ +what was happening there; he was entirely absorbed in watching this fire\ +which burned ever more brightly and which he felt was flaming up in the\ +same way in his own soul.\ +\ +At ten o'clock the infantry that had been among the bushes in front of\ +the battery and along the Kamenka streamlet retreated. From the battery\ +they could be seen running back past it carrying their wounded on their\ +muskets. A general with his suite came to the battery, and after\ +speaking to the colonel gave Pierre an angry look and went away again\ +having ordered the infantry supports behind the battery to lie down, so\ +as to be less exposed to fire. After this from amid the ranks of\ +infantry to the right of the battery came the sound of a drum and shouts\ +of command, and from the battery one saw how those ranks of infantry\ +moved forward.\ +\ +Pierre looked over the wall of the trench and was particularly struck by\ +a pale young officer who, letting his sword hang down, was walking\ +backwards and kept glancing uneasily around.\ +\ +The ranks of the infantry disappeared amid the smoke but their long-\ +drawn shout and rapid musketry firing could still be heard. A few\ +minutes later crowds of wounded men and stretcher-bearers came back from\ +that direction. Projectiles began to fall still more frequently in the\ +battery. Several men were lying about who had not been removed. Around\ +the cannon the men moved still more briskly and busily. No one any\ +longer took notice of Pierre. Once or twice he was shouted at for being\ +in the way. The senior officer moved with big, rapid strides from one\ +gun to another with a frowning face. The young officer, with his face\ +still more flushed, commanded the men more scrupulously than ever. The\ +soldiers handed up the charges, turned, loaded, and did their business\ +with strained smartness. They gave little jumps as they walked, as\ +though they were on springs.\ +\ +The stormcloud had come upon them, and in every face the fire which\ +Pierre had watched kindle burned up brightly. Pierre standing beside the\ +commanding officer. The young officer, his hand to his shako, ran up to\ +his superior.\ +\ +"I have the honor to report, sir, that only eight rounds are left. Are\ +we to continue firing?" he asked.\ +\ +"Grapeshot!" the senior shouted, without answering the question, looking\ +over the wall of the trench.\ +\ +Suddenly something happened: the young officer gave a gasp and bending\ +double sat down on the ground like a bird shot on the wing. Everything\ +became strange, confused, and misty in Pierre's eyes.\ +\ +One cannon ball after another whistled by and struck the earthwork, a\ +soldier, or a gun. Pierre, who had not noticed these sounds before, now\ +heard nothing else. On the right of the battery soldiers shouting\ +"Hurrah!" were running not forwards but backwards, it seemed to Pierre.\ +\ +A cannon ball struck the very end of the earth work by which he was\ +standing, crumbling down the earth; a black ball flashed before his eyes\ +and at the same instant plumped into something. Some militiamen who were\ +entering the battery ran back.\ +\ +"All with grapeshot!" shouted the officer.\ +\ +The sergeant ran up to the officer and in a frightened whisper informed\ +him (as a butler at dinner informs his master that there is no more of\ +some wine asked for) that there were no more charges.\ +\ +"The scoundrels! What are they doing?" shouted the officer, turning to\ +Pierre.\ +\ +The officer's face was red and perspiring and his eyes glittered under\ +his frowning brow.\ +\ +"Run to the reserves and bring up the ammunition boxes!" he yelled,\ +angrily avoiding Pierre with his eyes and speaking to his men.\ +\ +"I'll go," said Pierre.\ +\ +The officer, without answering him, strode across to the opposite side.\ +\ +"Don't fire.... Wait!" he shouted.\ +\ +The man who had been ordered to go for ammunition stumbled against\ +Pierre.\ +\ +"Eh, sir, this is no place for you," said he, and ran down the slope.\ +\ +Pierre ran after him, avoiding the spot where the young officer was\ +sitting.\ +\ +One cannon ball, another, and a third flew over him, falling in front,\ +beside, and behind him. Pierre ran down the slope. "Where am I going?"\ +he suddenly asked himself when he was already near the green ammunition\ +wagons. He halted irresolutely, not knowing whether to return or go on.\ +Suddenly a terrible concussion threw him backwards to the ground. At the\ +same instant he was dazzled by a great flash of flame, and immediately a\ +deafening roar, crackling, and whistling made his ears tingle.\ +\ +When he came to himself he was sitting on the ground leaning on his\ +hands; the ammunition wagons he had been approaching no longer existed,\ +only charred green boards and rags littered the scorched grass, and a\ +horse, dangling fragments of its shaft behind it, galloped past, while\ +another horse lay, like Pierre, on the ground, uttering prolonged and\ +piercing cries.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XXXII\ +\ +Beside himself with terror Pierre jumped up and ran back to the battery,\ +as to the only refuge from the horrors that surrounded him.\ +\ +On entering the earthwork he noticed that there were men doing something\ +there but that no shots were being fired from the battery. He had no\ +time to realize who these men were. He saw the senior officer lying on\ +the earth wall with his back turned as if he were examining something\ +down below and that one of the soldiers he had noticed before was\ +struggling forward shouting "Brothers!" and trying to free himself from\ +some men who were holding him by the arm. He also saw something else\ +that was strange.\ +\ +But he had not time to realize that the colonel had been killed, that\ +the soldier shouting "Brothers!" was a prisoner, and that another man\ +had been bayoneted in the back before his eyes, for hardly had he run\ +into the redoubt before a thin, sallow-faced, perspiring man in a blue\ +uniform rushed on him sword in hand, shouting something. Instinctively\ +guarding against the shock--for they had been running together at full\ +speed before they saw one another--Pierre put out his hands and seized\ +the man (a French officer) by the shoulder with one hand and by the\ +throat with the other. The officer, dropping his sword, seized Pierre by\ +his collar.\ +\ +For some seconds they gazed with frightened eyes at one another's\ +unfamiliar faces and both were perplexed at what they had done and what\ +they were to do next. "Am I taken prisoner or have I taken him\ +prisoner?" each was thinking. But the French officer was evidently more\ +inclined to think he had been taken prisoner because Pierre's strong\ +hand, impelled by instinctive fear, squeezed his throat ever tighter and\ +tighter. The Frenchman was about to say something, when just above their\ +heads, terrible and low, a cannon ball whistled, and it seemed to Pierre\ +that the French officer's head had been torn off, so swiftly had he\ +ducked it.\ +\ +Pierre too bent his head and let his hands fall. Without further thought\ +as to who had taken whom prisoner, the Frenchman ran back to the battery\ +and Pierre ran down the slope stumbling over the dead and wounded who,\ +it seemed to him, caught at his feet. But before he reached the foot of\ +the knoll he was met by a dense crowd of Russian soldiers who,\ +stumbling, tripping up, and shouting, ran merrily and wildly toward the\ +battery. (This was the attack for which Ermolov claimed the credit,\ +declaring that only his courage and good luck made such a feat possible:\ +it was the attack in which he was said to have thrown some St. George's\ +Crosses he had in his pocket into the battery for the first soldiers to\ +take who got there.)\ +\ +The French who had occupied the battery fled, and our troops shouting\ +"Hurrah!" pursued them so far beyond the battery that it was difficult\ +to call them back.\ +\ +The prisoners were brought down from the battery and among them was a\ +wounded French general, whom the officers surrounded. Crowds of wounded-\ +-some known to Pierre and some unknown--Russians and French, with faces\ +distorted by suffering, walked, crawled, and were carried on stretchers\ +from the battery. Pierre again went up onto the knoll where he had spent\ +over an hour, and of that family circle which had received him as a\ +member he did not find a single one. There were many dead whom he did\ +not know, but some he recognized. The young officer still sat in the\ +same way, bent double, in a pool of blood at the edge of the earth wall.\ +The red-faced man was still twitching, but they did not carry him away.\ +\ +Pierre ran down the slope once more.\ +\ +"Now they will stop it, now they will be horrified at what they have\ +done!" he thought, aimlessly going toward a crowd of stretcher bearers\ +moving from the battlefield.\ +\ +But behind the veil of smoke the sun was still high, and in front and\ +especially to the left, near Semenovsk, something seemed to be seething\ +in the smoke, and the roar of cannon and musketry did not diminish, but\ +even increased to desperation like a man who, straining himself, shrieks\ +with all his remaining strength.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XXXIII\ +\ +The chief action of the battle of Borodino was fought within the seven\ +thousand feet between Borodino and Bagration's fleches. Beyond that\ +space there was, on the one side, a demonstration made by the Russians\ +with Uvarov's cavalry at midday, and on the other side, beyond Utitsa,\ +Poniatowski's collision with Tuchkov; but these two were detached and\ +feeble actions in comparison with what took place in the center of the\ +battlefield. On the field between Borodino and the fleches, beside the\ +wood, the chief action of the day took place on an open space visible\ +from both sides and was fought in the simplest and most artless way.\ +\ +The battle began on both sides with a cannonade from several hundred\ +guns.\ +\ +Then when the whole field was covered with smoke, two divisions,\ +Campan's and Dessaix's, advanced from the French right, while Murat's\ +troops advanced on Borodino from their left.\ +\ +From the Shevardino Redoubt where Napoleon was standing the fleches were\ +two thirds of a mile away, and it was more than a mile as the crow flies\ +to Borodino, so that Napoleon could not see what was happening there,\ +especially as the smoke mingling with the mist hid the whole locality.\ +The soldiers of Dessaix's division advancing against the fleches could\ +only be seen till they had entered the hollow that lay between them and\ +the fleches. As soon as they had descended into that hollow, the smoke\ +of the guns and musketry on the fleches grew so dense that it covered\ +the whole approach on that side of it. Through the smoke glimpses could\ +be caught of something black--probably men--and at times the glint of\ +bayonets. But whether they were moving or stationary, whether they were\ +French or Russian, could not be discovered from the Shevardino Redoubt.\ +\ +The sun had risen brightly and its slanting rays struck straight into\ +Napoleon's face as, shading his eyes with his hand, he looked at the\ +fleches. The smoke spread out before them, and at times it looked as if\ +the smoke were moving, at times as if the troops moved. Sometimes shouts\ +were heard through the firing, but it was impossible to tell what was\ +being done there.\ +\ +Napoleon, standing on the knoll, looked through a field glass, and in\ +its small circlet saw smoke and men, sometimes his own and sometimes\ +Russians, but when he looked again with the naked eye, he could not tell\ +where what he had seen was.\ +\ +He descended the knoll and began walking up and down before it.\ +\ +Occasionally he stopped, listened to the firing, and gazed intently at\ +the battlefield.\ +\ +But not only was it impossible to make out what was happening from where\ +he was standing down below, or from the knoll above on which some of his\ +generals had taken their stand, but even from the fleches themselves--in\ +which by this time there were now Russian and now French soldiers,\ +alternately or together, dead, wounded, alive, frightened, or maddened--\ +even at those fleches themselves it was impossible to make out what was\ +taking place. There for several hours amid incessant cannon and musketry\ +fire, now Russians were seen alone, now Frenchmen alone, now infantry,\ +and now cavalry: they appeared, fired, fell, collided, not knowing what\ +to do with one another, screamed, and ran back again.\ +\ +From the battlefield adjutants he had sent out, and orderlies from his\ +marshals, kept galloping up to Napoleon with reports of the progress of\ +the action, but all these reports were false, both because it was\ +impossible in the heat of battle to say what was happening at any given\ +moment and because many of the adjutants did not go to the actual place\ +of conflict but reported what they had heard from others; and also\ +because while an adjutant was riding more than a mile to Napoleon\ +circumstances changed and the news he brought was already becoming\ +false. Thus an adjutant galloped up from Murat with tidings that\ +Borodino had been occupied and the bridge over the Kolocha was in the\ +hands of the French. The adjutant asked whether Napoleon wished the\ +troops to cross it? Napoleon gave orders that the troops should form up\ +on the farther side and wait. But before that order was given--almost as\ +soon in fact as the adjutant had left Borodino--the bridge had been\ +retaken by the Russians and burned, in the very skirmish at which Pierre\ +had been present at the beginning of the battle.\ +\ +An adjutant galloped up from the fleches with a pale and frightened face\ +and reported to Napoleon that their attack had been repulsed, Campan\ +wounded, and Davout killed; yet at the very time the adjutant had been\ +told that the French had been repulsed, the fleches had in fact been\ +recaptured by other French troops, and Davout was alive and only\ +slightly bruised. On the basis of these necessarily untrustworthy\ +reports Napoleon gave his orders, which had either been executed before\ +he gave them or could not be and were not executed.\ +\ +The marshals and generals, who were nearer to the field of battle but,\ +like Napoleon, did not take part in the actual fighting and only\ +occasionally went within musket range, made their own arrangements\ +without asking Napoleon and issued orders where and in what direction to\ +fire and where cavalry should gallop and infantry should run. But even\ +their orders, like Napoleon's, were seldom carried out, and then but\ +partially. For the most part things happened contrary to their orders.\ +Soldiers ordered to advance ran back on meeting grapeshot; soldiers\ +ordered to remain where they were, suddenly, seeing Russians\ +unexpectedly before them, sometimes rushed back and sometimes forward,\ +and the cavalry dashed without orders in pursuit of the flying Russians.\ +In this way two cavalry regiments galloped through the Semenovsk hollow\ +and as soon as they reached the top of the incline turned round and\ +galloped full speed back again. The infantry moved in the same way,\ +sometimes running to quite other places than those they were ordered to\ +go to. All orders as to where and when to move the guns, when to send\ +infantry to shoot or horsemen to ride down the Russian infantry--all\ +such orders were given by the officers on the spot nearest to the units\ +concerned, without asking either Ney, Davout, or Murat, much less\ +Napoleon. They did not fear getting into trouble for not fulfilling\ +orders or for acting on their own initiative, for in battle what is at\ +stake is what is dearest to man--his own life--and it sometimes seems\ +that safety lies in running back, sometimes in running forward; and\ +these men who were right in the heat of the battle acted according to\ +the mood of the moment. In reality, however, all these movements forward\ +and backward did not improve or alter the position of the troops. All\ +their rushing and galloping at one another did little harm, the harm of\ +disablement and death was caused by the balls and bullets that flew over\ +the fields on which these men were floundering about. As soon as they\ +left the place where the balls and bullets were flying about, their\ +superiors, located in the background, re-formed them and brought them\ +under discipline and under the influence of that discipline led them\ +back to the zone of fire, where under the influence of fear of death\ +they lost their discipline and rushed about according to the chance\ +promptings of the throng.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XXXIV\ +\ +Napoleon's generals--Davout, Ney, and Murat, who were near that region\ +of fire and sometimes even entered it--repeatedly led into it huge\ +masses of well-ordered troops. But contrary to what had always happened\ +in their former battles, instead of the news they expected of the\ +enemy's flight, these orderly masses returned thence as disorganized and\ +terrified mobs. The generals re-formed them, but their numbers\ +constantly decreased. In the middle of the day Murat sent his adjutant\ +to Napoleon to demand reinforcements.\ +\ +Napoleon sat at the foot of the knoll, drinking punch, when Murat's\ +adjutant galloped up with an assurance that the Russians would be routed\ +if His Majesty would let him have another division.\ +\ +"Reinforcements?" said Napoleon in a tone of stern surprise, looking at\ +the adjutant--a handsome lad with long black curls arranged like Murat's\ +own--as though he did not understand his words.\ +\ +"Reinforcements!" thought Napoleon to himself. "How can they need\ +reinforcements when they already have half the army directed against a\ +weak, unentrenched Russian wing?"\ +\ +"Tell the King of Naples," said he sternly, "that it is not noon yet,\ +and I don't yet see my chessboard clearly. Go!..."\ +\ +The handsome boy adjutant with the long hair sighed deeply without\ +removing his hand from his hat and galloped back to where men were being\ +slaughtered.\ +\ +Napoleon rose and having summoned Caulaincourt and Berthier began\ +talking to them about matters unconnected with the battle.\ +\ +In the midst of this conversation, which was beginning to interest\ +Napoleon, Berthier's eyes turned to look at a general with a suite, who\ +was galloping toward the knoll on a lathering horse. It was Belliard.\ +Having dismounted he went up to the Emperor with rapid strides and in a\ +loud voice began boldly demonstrating the necessity of sending\ +reinforcements. He swore on his honor that the Russians were lost if the\ +Emperor would give another division.\ +\ +Napoleon shrugged his shoulders and continued to pace up and down\ +without replying. Belliard began talking loudly and eagerly to the\ +generals of the suite around him.\ +\ +"You are very fiery, Belliard," said Napoleon, when he again came up to\ +the general. "In the heat of a battle it is easy to make a mistake. Go\ +and have another look and then come back to me."\ +\ +Before Belliard was out of sight, a messenger from another part of the\ +battlefield galloped up.\ +\ +"Now then, what do you want?" asked Napoleon in the tone of a man\ +irritated at being continually disturbed.\ +\ +"Sire, the prince..." began the adjutant.\ +\ +"Asks for reinforcements?" said Napoleon with an angry gesture.\ +\ +The adjutant bent his head affirmatively and began to report, but the\ +Emperor turned from him, took a couple of steps, stopped, came back, and\ +called Berthier.\ +\ +"We must give reserves," he said, moving his arms slightly apart. "Who\ +do you think should be sent there?" he asked of Berthier (whom he\ +subsequently termed "that gosling I have made an eagle").\ +\ +"Send Claparede's division, sire," replied Berthier, who knew all the\ +division's regiments, and battalions by heart.\ +\ +Napoleon nodded assent.\ +\ +The adjutant galloped to Claparede's division and a few minutes later\ +the Young Guards stationed behind the knoll moved forward. Napoleon\ +gazed silently in that direction.\ +\ +"No!" he suddenly said to Berthier. "I can't send Claparede. Send\ +Friant's division."\ +\ +Though there was no advantage in sending Friant's division instead of\ +Claparede's, and even an obvious inconvenience and delay in stopping\ +Claparede and sending Friant now, the order was carried out exactly.\ +Napoleon did not notice that in regard to his army he was playing the\ +part of a doctor who hinders by his medicines--a role he so justly\ +understood and condemned.\ +\ +Friant's division disappeared as the others had done into the smoke of\ +the battlefield. From all sides adjutants continued to arrive at a\ +gallop and as if by agreement all said the same thing. They all asked\ +for reinforcements and all said that the Russians were holding their\ +positions and maintaining a hellish fire under which the French army was\ +melting away.\ +\ +Napoleon sat on a campstool, wrapped in thought.\ +\ +M. de Beausset, the man so fond of travel, having fasted since morning,\ +came up to the Emperor and ventured respectfully to suggest lunch to His\ +Majesty.\ +\ +"I hope I may now congratulate Your Majesty on a victory?" said he.\ +\ +Napoleon silently shook his head in negation. Assuming the negation to\ +refer only to the victory and not to the lunch, M. de Beausset ventured\ +with respectful jocularity to remark that there is no reason for not\ +having lunch when one can get it.\ +\ +"Go away..." exclaimed Napoleon suddenly and morosely, and turned aside.\ +\ +A beatific smile of regret, repentance, and ecstasy beamed on M. de\ +Beausset's face and he glided away to the other generals.\ +\ +Napoleon was experiencing a feeling of depression like that of an ever-\ +lucky gambler who, after recklessly flinging money about and always\ +winning, suddenly just when he has calculated all the chances of the\ +game, finds that the more he considers his play the more surely he\ +loses.\ +\ +His troops were the same, his generals the same, the same preparations\ +had been made, the same dispositions, and the same proclamation courte\ +et energique, he himself was still the same: he knew that and knew that\ +he was now even more experienced and skillful than before. Even the\ +enemy was the same as at Austerlitz and Friedland--yet the terrible\ +stroke of his arm had supernaturally become impotent.\ +\ +All the old methods that had been unfailingly crowned with success: the\ +concentration of batteries on one point, an attack by reserves to break\ +the enemy's line, and a cavalry attack by "the men of iron," all these\ +methods had already been employed, yet not only was there no victory,\ +but from all sides came the same news of generals killed and wounded, of\ +reinforcements needed, of the impossibility of driving back the\ +Russians, and of disorganization among his own troops.\ +\ +Formerly, after he had given two or three orders and uttered a few\ +phrases, marshals and adjutants had come galloping up with\ +congratulations and happy faces, announcing the trophies taken, the\ +corps of prisoners, bundles of enemy eagles and standards, cannon and\ +stores, and Murat had only begged leave to loose the cavalry to gather\ +in the baggage wagons. So it had been at Lodi, Marengo, Arcola, Jena,\ +Austerlitz, Wagram, and so on. But now something strange was happening\ +to his troops.\ +\ +Despite news of the capture of the fleches, Napoleon saw that this was\ +not the same, not at all the same, as what had happened in his former\ +battles. He saw that what he was feeling was felt by all the men about\ +him experienced in the art of war. All their faces looked dejected, and\ +they all shunned one another's eyes--only a de Beausset could fail to\ +grasp the meaning of what was happening.\ +\ +But Napoleon with his long experience of war well knew the meaning of a\ +battle not gained by the attacking side in eight hours, after all\ +efforts had been expended. He knew that it was a lost battle and that\ +the least accident might now--with the fight balanced on such a strained\ +center--destroy him and his army.\ +\ +When he ran his mind over the whole of this strange Russian campaign in\ +which not one battle had been won, and in which not a flag, or cannon,\ +or army corps had been captured in two months, when he looked at the\ +concealed depression on the faces around him and heard reports of the\ +Russians still holding their ground--a terrible feeling like a nightmare\ +took possession of him, and all the unlucky accidents that might destroy\ +him occurred to his mind. The Russians might fall on his left wing,\ +might break through his center, he himself might be killed by a stray\ +cannon ball. All this was possible. In former battles he had only\ +considered the possibilities of success, but now innumerable unlucky\ +chances presented themselves, and he expected them all. Yes, it was like\ +a dream in which a man fancies that a ruffian is coming to attack him,\ +and raises his arm to strike that ruffian a terrible blow which he knows\ +should annihilate him, but then feels that his arm drops powerless and\ +limp like a rag, and the horror of unavoidable destruction seizes him in\ +his helplessness.\ +\ +The news that the Russians were attacking the left flank of the French\ +army aroused that horror in Napoleon. He sat silently on a campstool\ +below the knoll, with head bowed and elbows on his knees. Berthier\ +approached and suggested that they should ride along the line to\ +ascertain the position of affairs.\ +\ +"What? What do you say?" asked Napoleon. "Yes, tell them to bring me my\ +horse."\ +\ +He mounted and rode toward Semenovsk.\ +\ +Amid the powder smoke, slowly dispersing over the whole space through\ +which Napoleon rode, horses and men were lying in pools of blood, singly\ +or in heaps. Neither Napoleon nor any of his generals had ever before\ +seen such horrors or so many slain in such a small area. The roar of\ +guns, that had not ceased for ten hours, wearied the ear and gave a\ +peculiar significance to the spectacle, as music does to tableaux\ +vivants. Napoleon rode up the high ground at Semenovsk, and through the\ +smoke saw ranks of men in uniforms of a color unfamiliar to him. They\ +were Russians.\ +\ +The Russians stood in serried ranks behind Semenovsk village and its\ +knoll, and their guns boomed incessantly along their line and sent forth\ +clouds of smoke. It was no longer a battle: it was a continuous\ +slaughter which could be of no avail either to the French or the\ +Russians. Napoleon stopped his horse and again fell into the reverie\ +from which Berthier had aroused him. He could not stop what was going on\ +before him and around him and was supposed to be directed by him and to\ +depend on him, and from its lack of success this affair, for the first\ +time, seemed to him unnecessary and horrible.\ +\ +One of the generals rode up to Napoleon and ventured to offer to lead\ +the Old Guard into action. Ney and Berthier, standing near Napoleon,\ +exchanged looks and smiled contemptuously at this general's senseless\ +offer.\ +\ +Napoleon bowed his head and remained silent a long time.\ +\ +"At eight hundred leagues from France, I will not have my Guard\ +destroyed!" he said, and turning his horse rode back to Shevardino.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XXXV\ +\ +On the rug-covered bench where Pierre had seen him in the morning sat\ +Kutuzov, his gray head hanging, his heavy body relaxed. He gave no\ +orders, but only assented to or dissented from what others suggested.\ +\ +"Yes, yes, do that," he replied to various proposals. "Yes, yes: go,\ +dear boy, and have a look," he would say to one or another of those\ +about him; or, "No, don't, we'd better wait!" He listened to the reports\ +that were brought him and gave directions when his subordinates demanded\ +that of him; but when listening to the reports it seemed as if he were\ +not interested in the import of the words spoken, but rather in\ +something else--in the expression of face and tone of voice of those who\ +were reporting. By long years of military experience he knew, and with\ +the wisdom of age understood, that it is impossible for one man to\ +direct hundreds of thousands of others struggling with death, and he\ +knew that the result of a battle is decided not by the orders of a\ +commander-in-chief, nor the place where the troops are stationed, nor by\ +the number of cannon or of slaughtered men, but by that intangible force\ +called the spirit of the army, and he watched this force and guided it\ +in as far as that was in his power.\ +\ +Kutuzov's general expression was one of concentrated quiet attention,\ +and his face wore a strained look as if he found it difficult to master\ +the fatigue of his old and feeble body.\ +\ +At eleven o'clock they brought him news that the fleches captured by the\ +French had been retaken, but that Prince Bagration was wounded. Kutuzov\ +groaned and swayed his head.\ +\ +"Ride over to Prince Peter Ivanovich and find out about it exactly," he\ +said to one of his adjutants, and then turned to the Duke of Wurttemberg\ +who was standing behind him.\ +\ +"Will Your Highness please take command of the first army?"\ +\ +Soon after the duke's departure--before he could possibly have reached\ +Semenovsk--his adjutant came back from him and told Kutuzov that the\ +duke asked for more troops.\ +\ +Kutuzov made a grimace and sent an order to Dokhturov to take over the\ +command of the first army, and a request to the duke--whom he said he\ +could not spare at such an important moment--to return to him. When they\ +brought him news that Murat had been taken prisoner, and the staff\ +officers congratulated him, Kutuzov smiled.\ +\ +"Wait a little, gentlemen," said he. "The battle is won, and there is\ +nothing extraordinary in the capture of Murat. Still, it is better to\ +wait before we rejoice."\ +\ +But he sent an adjutant to take the news round the army.\ +\ +When Scherbinin came galloping from the left flank with news that the\ +French had captured the fleches and the village of Semenovsk, Kutuzov,\ +guessing by the sounds of the battle and by Scherbinin's looks that the\ +news was bad, rose as if to stretch his legs and, taking Scherbinin's\ +arm, led him aside.\ +\ +"Go, my dear fellow," he said to Ermolov, "and see whether something\ +can't be done."\ +\ +Kutuzov was in Gorki, near the center of the Russian position. The\ +attack directed by Napoleon against our left flank had been several\ +times repulsed. In the center the French had not got beyond Borodino,\ +and on their left flank Uvarov's cavalry had put the French to flight.\ +\ +Toward three o'clock the French attacks ceased. On the faces of all who\ +came from the field of battle, and of those who stood around him,\ +Kutuzov noticed an expression of extreme tension. He was satisfied with\ +the day's success--a success exceeding his expectations, but the old\ +man's strength was failing him. Several times his head dropped low as if\ +it were falling and he dozed off. Dinner was brought him.\ +\ +Adjutant General Wolzogen, the man who when riding past Prince Andrew\ +had said, "the war should be extended widely," and whom Bagration so\ +detested, rode up while Kutuzov was at dinner. Wolzogen had come from\ +Barclay de Tolly to report on the progress of affairs on the left flank.\ +The sagacious Barclay de Tolly, seeing crowds of wounded men running\ +back and the disordered rear of the army, weighed all the circumstances,\ +concluded that the battle was lost, and sent his favorite officer to the\ +commander in chief with that news.\ +\ +Kutuzov was chewing a piece of roast chicken with difficulty and glanced\ +at Wolzogen with eyes that brightened under their puckering lids.\ +\ +Wolzogen, nonchalantly stretching his legs, approached Kutuzov with a\ +half-contemptuous smile on his lips, scarcely touching the peak of his\ +cap.\ +\ +He treated his Serene Highness with a somewhat affected nonchalance\ +intended to show that, as a highly trained military man, he left it to\ +Russians to make an idol of this useless old man, but that he knew whom\ +he was dealing with. "Der alte Herr" (as in their own set the Germans\ +called Kutuzov) "is making himself very comfortable," thought Wolzogen,\ +and looking severely at the dishes in front of Kutuzov he began to\ +report to "the old gentleman" the position of affairs on the left flank\ +as Barclay had ordered him to and as he himself had seen and understood\ +it.\ +\ +"All the points of our position are in the enemy's hands and we cannot\ +dislodge them for lack of troops, the men are running away and it is\ +impossible to stop them," he reported.\ +\ +Kutuzov ceased chewing and fixed an astonished gaze on Wolzogen, as if\ +not understanding what was said to him. Wolzogen, noticing "the old\ +gentleman's" agitation, said with a smile:\ +\ +"I have not considered it right to conceal from your Serene Highness\ +what I have seen. The troops are in complete disorder..."\ +\ +"You have seen? You have seen?..." Kutuzov shouted. Frowning and rising\ +quickly, he went up to Wolzogen.\ +\ +"How... how dare you!..." he shouted, choking and making a threatening\ +gesture with his trembling arms: "How dare you, sir, say that to me? You\ +know nothing about it. Tell General Barclay from me that his information\ +is incorrect and that the real course of the battle is better known to\ +me, the commander-in-chief, than to him."\ +\ +Wolzogen was about to make a rejoinder, but Kutuzov interrupted him.\ +\ +"The enemy has been repulsed on the left and defeated on the right\ +flank. If you have seen amiss, sir, do not allow yourself to say what\ +you don't know! Be so good as to ride to General Barclay and inform him\ +of my firm intention to attack the enemy tomorrow," said Kutuzov\ +sternly.\ +\ +All were silent, and the only sound audible was the heavy breathing of\ +the panting old general.\ +\ +"They are repulsed everywhere, for which I thank God and our brave army!\ +The enemy is beaten, and tomorrow we shall drive him from the sacred\ +soil of Russia," said Kutuzov crossing himself, and he suddenly sobbed\ +as his eyes filled with tears.\ +\ +Wolzogen, shrugging his shoulders and curling his lips, stepped silently\ +aside, marveling at "the old gentleman's" conceited stupidity.\ +\ +"Ah, here he is, my hero!" said Kutuzov to a portly, handsome, dark-\ +haired general who was just ascending the knoll.\ +\ +This was Raevski, who had spent the whole day at the most important part\ +of the field of Borodino.\ +\ +Raevski reported that the troops were firmly holding their ground and\ +that the French no longer ventured to attack.\ +\ +After hearing him, Kutuzov said in French:\ +\ +"Then you do not think, like some others, that we must retreat?"\ +\ +"On the contrary, your Highness, in indecisive actions it is always the\ +most stubborn who remain victors," replied Raevski, "and in my\ +opinion..."\ +\ +"Kaysarov!" Kutuzov called to his adjutant. "Sit down and write out the\ +order of the day for tomorrow. And you," he continued, addressing\ +another, "ride along the line and announce that tomorrow we attack."\ +\ +While Kutuzov was talking to Raevski and dictating the order of the day,\ +Wolzogen returned from Barclay and said that General Barclay wished to\ +have written confirmation of the order the field marshal had given.\ +\ +Kutuzov, without looking at Wolzogen, gave directions for the order to\ +be written out which the former commander-in-chief, to avoid personal\ +responsibility, very judiciously wished to receive.\ +\ +And by means of that mysterious indefinable bond which maintains\ +throughout an army one and the same temper, known as "the spirit of the\ +army," and which constitutes the sinew of war, Kutuzov's words, his\ +order for a battle next day, immediately became known from one end of\ +the army to the other.\ +\ +It was far from being the same words or the same order that reached the\ +farthest links of that chain. The tales passing from mouth to mouth at\ +different ends of the army did not even resemble what Kutuzov had said,\ +but the sense of his words spread everywhere because what he said was\ +not the outcome of cunning calculations, but of a feeling that lay in\ +the commander-in-chief's soul as in that of every Russian.\ +\ +And on learning that tomorrow they were to attack the enemy, and hearing\ +from the highest quarters a confirmation of what they wanted to believe,\ +the exhausted, wavering men felt comforted and inspirited.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XXXVI\ +\ +Prince Andrew's regiment was among the reserves which till after one\ +o'clock were stationed inactive behind Semenovsk, under heavy artillery\ +fire. Toward two o'clock the regiment, having already lost more than two\ +hundred men, was moved forward into a trampled oatfield in the gap\ +between Semenovsk and the Knoll Battery, where thousands of men perished\ +that day and on which an intense, concentrated fire from several hundred\ +enemy guns was directed between one and two o'clock.\ +\ +Without moving from that spot or firing a single shot the regiment here\ +lost another third of its men. From in front and especially from the\ +right, in the unlifting smoke the guns boomed, and out of the mysterious\ +domain of smoke that overlay the whole space in front, quick hissing\ +cannon balls and slow whistling shells flew unceasingly. At times, as if\ +to allow them a respite, a quarter of an hour passed during which the\ +cannon balls and shells all flew overhead, but sometimes several men\ +were torn from the regiment in a minute and the slain were continually\ +being dragged away and the wounded carried off.\ +\ +With each fresh blow less and less chance of life remained for those not\ +yet killed. The regiment stood in columns of battalion, three hundred\ +paces apart, but nevertheless the men were always in one and the same\ +mood. All alike were taciturn and morose. Talk was rarely heard in the\ +ranks, and it ceased altogether every time the thud of a successful shot\ +and the cry of "stretchers!" was heard. Most of the time, by their\ +officers' order, the men sat on the ground. One, having taken off his\ +shako, carefully loosened the gathers of its lining and drew them tight\ +again; another, rubbing some dry clay between his palms, polished his\ +bayonet; another fingered the strap and pulled the buckle of his\ +bandolier, while another smoothed and refolded his leg bands and put his\ +boots on again. Some built little houses of the tufts in the plowed\ +ground, or plaited baskets from the straw in the cornfield. All seemed\ +fully absorbed in these pursuits. When men were killed or wounded, when\ +rows of stretchers went past, when some troops retreated, and when great\ +masses of the enemy came into view through the smoke, no one paid any\ +attention to these things. But when our artillery or cavalry advanced or\ +some of our infantry were seen to move forward, words of approval were\ +heard on all sides. But the liveliest attention was attracted by\ +occurrences quite apart from, and unconnected with, the battle. It was\ +as if the minds of these morally exhausted men found relief in everyday,\ +commonplace occurrences. A battery of artillery was passing in front of\ +the regiment. The horse of an ammunition cart put its leg over a trace.\ +"Hey, look at the trace horse!... Get her leg out! She'll fall.... Ah,\ +they don't see it!" came identical shouts from the ranks all along the\ +regiment. Another time, general attention was attracted by a small brown\ +dog, coming heaven knows whence, which trotted in a preoccupied manner\ +in front of the ranks with tail stiffly erect till suddenly a shell fell\ +close by, when it yelped, tucked its tail between its legs, and darted\ +aside. Yells and shrieks of laughter rose from the whole regiment. But\ +such distractions lasted only a moment, and for eight hours the men had\ +been inactive, without food, in constant fear of death, and their pale\ +and gloomy faces grew ever paler and gloomier.\ +\ +Prince Andrew, pale and gloomy like everyone in the regiment, paced up\ +and down from the border of one patch to another, at the edge of the\ +meadow beside an oatfield, with head bowed and arms behind his back.\ +There was nothing for him to do and no orders to be given. Everything\ +went on of itself. The killed were dragged from the front, the wounded\ +carried away, and the ranks closed up. If any soldiers ran to the rear\ +they returned immediately and hastily. At first Prince Andrew,\ +considering it his duty to rouse the courage of the men and to set them\ +an example, walked about among the ranks, but he soon became convinced\ +that this was unnecessary and that there was nothing he could teach\ +them. All the powers of his soul, as of every soldier there, were\ +unconsciously bent on avoiding the contemplation of the horrors of their\ +situation. He walked along the meadow, dragging his feet, rustling the\ +grass, and gazing at the dust that covered his boots; now he took big\ +strides trying to keep to the footprints left on the meadow by the\ +mowers, then he counted his steps, calculating how often he must walk\ +from one strip to another to walk a mile, then he stripped the flowers\ +from the wormwood that grew along a boundary rut, rubbed them in his\ +palms, and smelled their pungent, sweetly bitter scent. Nothing remained\ +of the previous day's thoughts. He thought of nothing. He listened with\ +weary ears to the ever-recurring sounds, distinguishing the whistle of\ +flying projectiles from the booming of the reports, glanced at the\ +tiresomely familiar faces of the men of the first battalion, and waited.\ +"Here it comes... this one is coming our way again!" he thought,\ +listening to an approaching whistle in the hidden region of smoke. "One,\ +another! Again! It has hit...." He stopped and looked at the ranks. "No,\ +it has gone over. But this one has hit!" And again he started trying to\ +reach the boundary strip in sixteen paces. A whizz and a thud! Five\ +paces from him, a cannon ball tore up the dry earth and disappeared. A\ +chill ran down his back. Again he glanced at the ranks. Probably many\ +had been hit--a large crowd had gathered near the second battalion.\ +\ +"Adjutant!" he shouted. "Order them not to crowd together."\ +\ +The adjutant, having obeyed this instruction, approached Prince Andrew.\ +From the other side a battalion commander rode up.\ +\ +"Look out!" came a frightened cry from a soldier and, like a bird\ +whirring in rapid flight and alighting on the ground, a shell dropped\ +with little noise within two steps of Prince Andrew and close to the\ +battalion commander's horse. The horse first, regardless of whether it\ +was right or wrong to show fear, snorted, reared almost throwing the\ +major, and galloped aside. The horse's terror infected the men.\ +\ +"Lie down!" cried the adjutant, throwing himself flat on the ground.\ +\ +Prince Andrew hesitated. The smoking shell spun like a top between him\ +and the prostrate adjutant, near a wormwood plant between the field and\ +the meadow.\ +\ +"Can this be death?" thought Prince Andrew, looking with a quite new,\ +envious glance at the grass, the wormwood, and the streamlet of smoke\ +that curled up from the rotating black ball. "I cannot, I do not wish to\ +die. I love life--I love this grass, this earth, this air...." He\ +thought this, and at the same time remembered that people were looking\ +at him.\ +\ +"It's shameful, sir!" he said to the adjutant. "What..."\ +\ +He did not finish speaking. At one and the same moment came the sound of\ +an explosion, a whistle of splinters as from a breaking window frame, a\ +suffocating smell of powder, and Prince Andrew started to one side,\ +raising his arm, and fell on his chest. Several officers ran up to him.\ +From the right side of his abdomen, blood was welling out making a large\ +stain on the grass.\ +\ +The militiamen with stretchers who were called up stood behind the\ +officers. Prince Andrew lay on his chest with his face in the grass,\ +breathing heavily and noisily.\ +\ +"What are you waiting for? Come along!"\ +\ +The peasants went up and took him by his shoulders and legs, but he\ +moaned piteously and, exchanging looks, they set him down again.\ +\ +"Pick him up, lift him, it's all the same!" cried someone.\ +\ +They again took him by the shoulders and laid him on the stretcher.\ +\ +"Ah, God! My God! What is it? The stomach? That means death! My God!"--\ +voices among the officers were heard saying.\ +\ +"It flew a hair's breadth past my ear," said the adjutant.\ +\ +The peasants, adjusting the stretcher to their shoulders, started\ +hurriedly along the path they had trodden down, to the dressing station.\ +\ +"Keep in step! Ah... those peasants!" shouted an officer, seizing by\ +their shoulders and checking the peasants, who were walking unevenly and\ +jolting the stretcher.\ +\ +"Get into step, Fedor... I say, Fedor!" said the foremost peasant.\ +\ +"Now that's right!" said the one behind joyfully, when he had got into\ +step.\ +\ +"Your excellency! Eh, Prince!" said the trembling voice of Timokhin, who\ +had run up and was looking down on the stretcher.\ +\ +Prince Andrew opened his eyes and looked up at the speaker from the\ +stretcher into which his head had sunk deep and again his eyelids\ +drooped.\ +\ +The militiamen carried Prince Andrew to the dressing station by the\ +wood, where wagons were stationed. The dressing station consisted of\ +three tents with flaps turned back, pitched at the edge of a birch wood.\ +In the wood, wagons and horses were standing. The horses were eating\ +oats from their movable troughs and sparrows flew down and pecked the\ +grains that fell. Some crows, scenting blood, flew among the birch trees\ +cawing impatiently. Around the tents, over more than five acres,\ +bloodstained men in various garbs stood, sat, or lay. Around the wounded\ +stood crowds of soldier stretcher-bearers with dismal and attentive\ +faces, whom the officers keeping order tried in vain to drive from the\ +spot. Disregarding the officers' orders, the soldiers stood leaning\ +against their stretchers and gazing intently, as if trying to comprehend\ +the difficult problem of what was taking place before them. From the\ +tents came now loud angry cries and now plaintive groans. Occasionally\ +dressers ran out to fetch water, or to point out those who were to be\ +brought in next. The wounded men awaiting their turn outside the tents\ +groaned, sighed, wept, screamed, swore, or asked for vodka. Some were\ +delirious. Prince Andrew's bearers, stepping over the wounded who had\ +not yet been bandaged, took him, as a regimental commander, close up to\ +one of the tents and there stopped, awaiting instructions. Prince Andrew\ +opened his eyes and for a long time could not make out what was going on\ +around him. He remembered the meadow, the wormwood, the field, the\ +whirling black ball, and his sudden rush of passionate love of life. Two\ +steps from him, leaning against a branch and talking loudly and\ +attracting general attention, stood a tall, handsome, black-haired\ +noncommissioned officer with a bandaged head. He had been wounded in the\ +head and leg by bullets. Around him, eagerly listening to his talk, a\ +crowd of wounded and stretcher-bearers was gathered.\ +\ +"We kicked him out from there so that he chucked everything, we grabbed\ +the King himself!" cried he, looking around him with eyes that glittered\ +with fever. "If only reserves had come up just then, lads, there\ +wouldn't have been nothing left of him! I tell you surely..."\ +\ +Like all the others near the speaker, Prince Andrew looked at him with\ +shining eyes and experienced a sense of comfort. "But isn't it all the\ +same now?" thought he. "And what will be there, and what has there been\ +here? Why was I so reluctant to part with life? There was something in\ +this life I did not and do not understand."\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XXXVII\ +\ +One of the doctors came out of the tent in a bloodstained apron, holding\ +a cigar between the thumb and little finger of one of his small\ +bloodstained hands, so as not to smear it. He raised his head and looked\ +about him, but above the level of the wounded men. He evidently wanted a\ +little respite. After turning his head from right to left for some time,\ +he sighed and looked down.\ +\ +"All right, immediately," he replied to a dresser who pointed Prince\ +Andrew out to him, and he told them to carry him into the tent.\ +\ +Murmurs arose among the wounded who were waiting.\ +\ +"It seems that even in the next world only the gentry are to have a\ +chance!" remarked one.\ +\ +Prince Andrew was carried in and laid on a table that had only just been\ +cleared and which a dresser was washing down. Prince Andrew could not\ +make out distinctly what was in that tent. The pitiful groans from all\ +sides and the torturing pain in his thigh, stomach, and back distracted\ +him. All he saw about him merged into a general impression of naked,\ +bleeding human bodies that seemed to fill the whole of the low tent, as\ +a few weeks previously, on that hot August day, such bodies had filled\ +the dirty pond beside the Smolensk road. Yes, it was the same flesh, the\ +same chair a canon, the sight of which had even then filled him with\ +horror, as by a presentiment.\ +\ +There were three operating tables in the tent. Two were occupied, and on\ +the third they placed Prince Andrew. For a little while he was left\ +alone and involuntarily witnessed what was taking place on the other two\ +tables. On the nearest one sat a Tartar, probably a Cossack, judging by\ +the uniform thrown down beside him. Four soldiers were holding him, and\ +a spectacled doctor was cutting into his muscular brown back.\ +\ +"Ooh, ooh, ooh!" grunted the Tartar, and suddenly lifting up his swarthy\ +snub-nosed face with its high cheekbones, and baring his white teeth, he\ +began to wriggle and twitch his body and utter piercing, ringing, and\ +prolonged yells. On the other table, round which many people were\ +crowding, a tall well-fed man lay on his back with his head thrown back.\ +His curly hair, its color, and the shape of his head seemed strangely\ +familiar to Prince Andrew. Several dressers were pressing on his chest\ +to hold him down. One large, white, plump leg twitched rapidly all the\ +time with a feverish tremor. The man was sobbing and choking\ +convulsively. Two doctors--one of whom was pale and trembling--were\ +silently doing something to this man's other, gory leg. When he had\ +finished with the Tartar, whom they covered with an overcoat, the\ +spectacled doctor came up to Prince Andrew, wiping his hands.\ +\ +He glanced at Prince Andrew's face and quickly turned away.\ +\ +"Undress him! What are you waiting for?" he cried angrily to the\ +dressers.\ +\ +His very first, remotest recollections of childhood came back to Prince\ +Andrew's mind when the dresser with sleeves rolled up began hastily to\ +undo the buttons of his clothes and undressed him. The doctor bent down\ +over the wound, felt it, and sighed deeply. Then he made a sign to\ +someone, and the torturing pain in his abdomen caused Prince Andrew to\ +lose consciousness. When he came to himself the splintered portions of\ +his thighbone had been extracted, the torn flesh cut away, and the wound\ +bandaged. Water was being sprinkled on his face. As soon as Prince\ +Andrew opened his eyes, the doctor bent over, kissed him silently on the\ +lips, and hurried away.\ +\ +After the sufferings he had been enduring, Prince Andrew enjoyed a\ +blissful feeling such as he had not experienced for a long time. All the\ +best and happiest moments of his life--especially his earliest\ +childhood, when he used to be undressed and put to bed, and when leaning\ +over him his nurse sang him to sleep and he, burying his head in the\ +pillow, felt happy in the mere consciousness of life--returned to his\ +memory, not merely as something past but as something present.\ +\ +The doctors were busily engaged with the wounded man the shape of whose\ +head seemed familiar to Prince Andrew: they were lifting him up and\ +trying to quiet him.\ +\ +"Show it to me.... Oh, ooh... Oh! Oh, ooh!" his frightened moans could\ +be heard, subdued by suffering and broken by sobs.\ +\ +Hearing those moans Prince Andrew wanted to weep. Whether because he was\ +dying without glory, or because he was sorry to part with life, or\ +because of those memories of a childhood that could not return, or\ +because he was suffering and others were suffering and that man near him\ +was groaning so piteously--he felt like weeping childlike, kindly, and\ +almost happy tears.\ +\ +The wounded man was shown his amputated leg stained with clotted blood\ +and with the boot still on.\ +\ +"Oh! Oh, ooh!" he sobbed, like a woman.\ +\ +The doctor who had been standing beside him, preventing Prince Andrew\ +from seeing his face, moved away.\ +\ +"My God! What is this? Why is he here?" said Prince Andrew to himself.\ +\ +In the miserable, sobbing, enfeebled man whose leg had just been\ +amputated, he recognized Anatole Kuragin. Men were supporting him in\ +their arms and offering him a glass of water, but his trembling, swollen\ +lips could not grasp its rim. Anatole was sobbing painfully. "Yes, it is\ +he! Yes, that man is somehow closely and painfully connected with me,"\ +thought Prince Andrew, not yet clearly grasping what he saw before him.\ +"What is the connection of that man with my childhood and life?" he\ +asked himself without finding an answer. And suddenly a new unexpected\ +memory from that realm of pure and loving childhood presented itself to\ +him. He remembered Natasha as he had seen her for the first time at the\ +ball in 1810, with her slender neck and arms and with a frightened happy\ +face ready for rapture, and love and tenderness for her, stronger and\ +more vivid than ever, awoke in his soul. He now remembered the\ +connection that existed between himself and this man who was dimly\ +gazing at him through tears that filled his swollen eyes. He remembered\ +everything, and ecstatic pity and love for that man overflowed his happy\ +heart.\ +\ +Prince Andrew could no longer restrain himself and wept tender loving\ +tears for his fellow men, for himself, and for his own and their errors.\ +\ +"Compassion, love of our brothers, for those who love us and for those\ +who hate us, love of our enemies; yes, that love which God preached on\ +earth and which Princess Mary taught me and I did not understand--that\ +is what made me sorry to part with life, that is what remained for me\ +had I lived. But now it is too late. I know it!"\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XXXVIII\ +\ +The terrible spectacle of the battlefield covered with dead and wounded,\ +together with the heaviness of his head and the news that some twenty\ +generals he knew personally had been killed or wounded, and the\ +consciousness of the impotence of his once mighty arm, produced an\ +unexpected impression on Napoleon who usually liked to look at the\ +killed and wounded, thereby, he considered, testing his strength of\ +mind. This day the horrible appearance of the battlefield overcame that\ +strength of mind which he thought constituted his merit and his\ +greatness. He rode hurriedly from the battlefield and returned to the\ +Shevardino knoll, where he sat on his campstool, his sallow face swollen\ +and heavy, his eyes dim, his nose red, and his voice hoarse,\ +involuntarily listening, with downcast eyes, to the sounds of firing.\ +With painful dejection he awaited the end of this action, in which he\ +regarded himself as a participant and which he was unable to arrest. A\ +personal, human feeling for a brief moment got the better of the\ +artificial phantasm of life he had served so long. He felt in his own\ +person the sufferings and death he had witnessed on the battlefield. The\ +heaviness of his head and chest reminded him of the possibility of\ +suffering and death for himself. At that moment he did not desire\ +Moscow, or victory, or glory (what need had he for any more glory?). The\ +one thing he wished for was rest, tranquillity, and freedom. But when he\ +had been on the Semenovsk heights the artillery commander had proposed\ +to him to bring several batteries of artillery up to those heights to\ +strengthen the fire on the Russian troops crowded in front of Knyazkovo.\ +Napoleon had assented and had given orders that news should be brought\ +to him of the effect those batteries produced.\ +\ +An adjutant came now to inform him that the fire of two hundred guns had\ +been concentrated on the Russians, as he had ordered, but that they\ +still held their ground.\ +\ +"Our fire is mowing them down by rows, but still they hold on," said the\ +adjutant.\ +\ +"They want more!..." said Napoleon in a hoarse voice.\ +\ +"Sire?" asked the adjutant who had not heard the remark.\ +\ +"They want more!" croaked Napoleon frowning. "Let them have it!"\ +\ +Even before he gave that order the thing he did not desire, and for\ +which he gave the order only because he thought it was expected of him,\ +was being done. And he fell back into that artificial realm of imaginary\ +greatness, and again--as a horse walking a treadmill thinks it is doing\ +something for itself--he submissively fulfilled the cruel, sad, gloomy,\ +and inhuman role predestined for him.\ +\ +And not for that day and hour alone were the mind and conscience\ +darkened of this man on whom the responsibility for what was happening\ +lay more than on all the others who took part in it. Never to the end of\ +his life could he understand goodness, beauty, or truth, or the\ +significance of his actions which were too contrary to goodness and\ +truth, too remote from everything human, for him ever to be able to\ +grasp their meaning. He could not disavow his actions, belauded as they\ +were by half the world, and so he had to repudiate truth, goodness, and\ +all humanity.\ +\ +Not only on that day, as he rode over the battlefield strewn with men\ +killed and maimed (by his will as he believed), did he reckon as he\ +looked at them how many Russians there were for each Frenchman and,\ +deceiving himself, find reason for rejoicing in the calculation that\ +there were five Russians for every Frenchman. Not on that day alone did\ +he write in a letter to Paris that "the battle field was superb,"\ +because fifty thousand corpses lay there, but even on the island of St.\ +Helena in the peaceful solitude where he said he intended to devote his\ +leisure to an account of the great deeds he had done, he wrote:\ +\ +The Russian war should have been the most popular war of modern times:\ +it was a war of good sense, for real interests, for the tranquillity and\ +security of all; it was purely pacific and conservative.\ +\ +It was a war for a great cause, the end of uncertainties and the\ +beginning of security. A new horizon and new labors were opening out,\ +full of well-being and prosperity for all. The European system was\ +already founded; all that remained was to organize it.\ +\ +Satisfied on these great points and with tranquility everywhere, I too\ +should have had my Congress and my Holy Alliance. Those ideas were\ +stolen from me. In that reunion of great sovereigns we should have\ +discussed our interests like one family, and have rendered account to\ +the peoples as clerk to master.\ +\ +Europe would in this way soon have been, in fact, but one people, and\ +anyone who traveled anywhere would have found himself always in the\ +common fatherland. I should have demanded the freedom of all navigable\ +rivers for everybody, that the seas should be common to all, and that\ +the great standing armies should be reduced henceforth to mere guards\ +for the sovereigns.\ +\ +On returning to France, to the bosom of the great, strong, magnificent,\ +peaceful, and glorious fatherland, I should have proclaimed her\ +frontiers immutable; all future wars purely defensive, all\ +aggrandizement antinational. I should have associated my son in the\ +Empire; my dictatorship would have been finished, and his constitutional\ +reign would have begun.\ +\ +Paris would have been the capital of the world, and the French the envy\ +of the nations!\ +\ +My leisure then, and my old age, would have been devoted, in company\ +with the Empress and during the royal apprenticeship of my son, to\ +leisurely visiting, with our own horses and like a true country couple,\ +every corner of the Empire, receiving complaints, redressing wrongs, and\ +scattering public buildings and benefactions on all sides and\ +everywhere.\ +\ +Napoleon, predestined by Providence for the gloomy role of executioner\ +of the peoples, assured himself that the aim of his actions had been the\ +peoples' welfare and that he could control the fate of millions and by\ +the employment of power confer benefactions.\ +\ +"Of four hundred thousand who crossed the Vistula," he wrote further of\ +the Russian war, "half were Austrians, Prussians, Saxons, Poles,\ +Bavarians, Wurttembergers, Mecklenburgers, Spaniards, Italians, and\ +Neapolitans. The Imperial army, strictly speaking, was one third\ +composed of Dutch, Belgians, men from the borders of the Rhine,\ +Piedmontese, Swiss, Genevese, Tuscans, Romans, inhabitants of the\ +Thirty-second Military Division, of Bremen, of Hamburg, and so on: it\ +included scarcely a hundred and forty thousand who spoke French. The\ +Russian expedition actually cost France less than fifty thousand men;\ +the Russian army in its retreat from Vilna to Moscow lost in the various\ +battles four times more men than the French army; the burning of Moscow\ +cost the lives of a hundred thousand Russians who died of cold and want\ +in the woods; finally, in its march from Moscow to the Oder the Russian\ +army also suffered from the severity of the season; so that by the time\ +it reached Vilna it numbered only fifty thousand, and at Kalisch less\ +than eighteen thousand."\ +\ +He imagined that the war with Russia came about by his will, and the\ +horrors that occurred did not stagger his soul. He boldly took the whole\ +responsibility for what happened, and his darkened mind found\ +justification in the belief that among the hundreds of thousands who\ +perished there were fewer Frenchmen than Hessians and Bavarians.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XXXIX\ +\ +Several tens of thousands of the slain lay in diverse postures and\ +various uniforms on the fields and meadows belonging to the Davydov\ +family and to the crown serfs--those fields and meadows where for\ +hundreds of years the peasants of Borodino, Gorki, Shevardino, and\ +Semenovsk had reaped their harvests and pastured their cattle. At the\ +dressing stations the grass and earth were soaked with blood for a space\ +of some three acres around. Crowds of men of various arms, wounded and\ +unwounded, with frightened faces, dragged themselves back to Mozhaysk\ +from the one army and back to Valuevo from the other. Other crowds,\ +exhausted and hungry, went forward led by their officers. Others held\ +their ground and continued to fire.\ +\ +Over the whole field, previously so gaily beautiful with the glitter of\ +bayonets and cloudlets of smoke in the morning sun, there now spread a\ +mist of damp and smoke and a strange acid smell of saltpeter and blood.\ +Clouds gathered and drops of rain began to fall on the dead and wounded,\ +on the frightened, exhausted, and hesitating men, as if to say: "Enough,\ +men! Enough! Cease... bethink yourselves! What are you doing?"\ +\ +To the men of both sides alike, worn out by want of food and rest, it\ +began equally to appear doubtful whether they should continue to\ +slaughter one another; all the faces expressed hesitation, and the\ +question arose in every soul: "For what, for whom, must I kill and be\ +killed?... You may go and kill whom you please, but I don't want to do\ +so anymore!" By evening this thought had ripened in every soul. At any\ +moment these men might have been seized with horror at what they were\ +doing and might have thrown up everything and run away anywhere.\ +\ +But though toward the end of the battle the men felt all the horror of\ +what they were doing, though they would have been glad to leave off,\ +some incomprehensible, mysterious power continued to control them, and\ +they still brought up the charges, loaded, aimed, and applied the match,\ +though only one artilleryman survived out of every three, and though\ +they stumbled and panted with fatigue, perspiring and stained with blood\ +and powder. The cannon balls flew just as swiftly and cruelly from both\ +sides, crushing human bodies, and that terrible work which was not done\ +by the will of a man but at the will of Him who governs men and worlds\ +continued.\ +\ +Anyone looking at the disorganized rear of the Russian army would have\ +said that, if only the French made one more slight effort, it would\ +disappear; and anyone looking at the rear of the French army would have\ +said that the Russians need only make one more slight effort and the\ +French would be destroyed. But neither the French nor the Russians made\ +that effort, and the flame of battle burned slowly out.\ +\ +The Russians did not make that effort because they were not attacking\ +the French. At the beginning of the battle they stood blocking the way\ +to Moscow and they still did so at the end of the battle as at the\ +beginning. But even had the aim of the Russians been to drive the French\ +from their positions, they could not have made this last effort, for all\ +the Russian troops had been broken up, there was no part of the Russian\ +army that had not suffered in the battle, and though still holding their\ +positions they had lost ONE HALF of their army.\ +\ +The French, with the memory of all their former victories during fifteen\ +years, with the assurance of Napoleon's invincibility, with the\ +consciousness that they had captured part of the battlefield and had\ +lost only a quarter of their men and still had their Guards intact,\ +twenty thousand strong, might easily have made that effort. The French\ +who had attacked the Russian army in order to drive it from its position\ +ought to have made that effort, for as long as the Russians continued to\ +block the road to Moscow as before, the aim of the French had not been\ +attained and all their efforts and losses were in vain. But the French\ +did not make that effort. Some historians say that Napoleon need only\ +have used his Old Guards, who were intact, and the battle would have\ +been won. To speak of what would have happened had Napoleon sent his\ +Guards is like talking of what would happen if autumn became spring. It\ +could not be. Napoleon did not give his Guards, not because he did not\ +want to, but because it could not be done. All the generals, officers,\ +and soldiers of the French army knew it could not be done, because the\ +flagging spirit of the troops would not permit it.\ +\ +It was not Napoleon alone who had experienced that nightmare feeling of\ +the mighty arm being stricken powerless, but all the generals and\ +soldiers of his army whether they had taken part in the battle or not,\ +after all their experience of previous battles--when after one tenth of\ +such efforts the enemy had fled--experienced a similar feeling of terror\ +before an enemy who, after losing HALF his men, stood as threateningly\ +at the end as at the beginning of the battle. The moral force of the\ +attacking French army was exhausted. Not that sort of victory which is\ +defined by the capture of pieces of material fastened to sticks, called\ +standards, and of the ground on which the troops had stood and were\ +standing, but a moral victory that convinces the enemy of the moral\ +superiority of his opponent and of his own impotence was gained by the\ +Russians at Borodino. The French invaders, like an infuriated animal\ +that has in its onslaught received a mortal wound, felt that they were\ +perishing, but could not stop, any more than the Russian army, weaker by\ +one half, could help swerving. By impetus gained, the French army was\ +still able to roll forward to Moscow, but there, without further effort\ +on the part of the Russians, it had to perish, bleeding from the mortal\ +wound it had received at Borodino. The direct consequence of the battle\ +of Borodino was Napoleon's senseless flight from Moscow, his retreat\ +along the old Smolensk road, the destruction of the invading army of\ +five hundred thousand men, and the downfall of Napoleonic France, on\ +which at Borodino for the first time the hand of an opponent of stronger\ +spirit had been laid.\ +\ +BOOK ELEVEN: 1812\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER I\ +\ +Absolute continuity of motion is not comprehensible to the human mind.\ +Laws of motion of any kind become comprehensible to man only when he\ +examines arbitrarily selected elements of that motion; but at the same\ +time, a large proportion of human error comes from the arbitrary\ +division of continuous motion into discontinuous elements. There is a\ +well known, so-called sophism of the ancients consisting in this, that\ +Achilles could never catch up with a tortoise he was following, in spite\ +of the fact that he traveled ten times as fast as the tortoise. By the\ +time Achilles has covered the distance that separated him from the\ +tortoise, the tortoise has covered one tenth of that distance ahead of\ +him: when Achilles has covered that tenth, the tortoise has covered\ +another one hundredth, and so on forever. This problem seemed to the\ +ancients insoluble. The absurd answer (that Achilles could never\ +overtake the tortoise) resulted from this: that motion was arbitrarily\ +divided into discontinuous elements, whereas the motion both of Achilles\ +and of the tortoise was continuous.\ +\ +By adopting smaller and smaller elements of motion we only approach a\ +solution of the problem, but never reach it. Only when we have admitted\ +the conception of the infinitely small, and the resulting geometrical\ +progression with a common ratio of one tenth, and have found the sum of\ +this progression to infinity, do we reach a solution of the problem.\ +\ +A modern branch of mathematics having achieved the art of dealing with\ +the infinitely small can now yield solutions in other more complex\ +problems of motion which used to appear insoluble.\ +\ +This modern branch of mathematics, unknown to the ancients, when dealing\ +with problems of motion admits the conception of the infinitely small,\ +and so conforms to the chief condition of motion (absolute continuity)\ +and thereby corrects the inevitable error which the human mind cannot\ +avoid when it deals with separate elements of motion instead of\ +examining continuous motion.\ +\ +In seeking the laws of historical movement just the same thing happens.\ +The movement of humanity, arising as it does from innumerable arbitrary\ +human wills, is continuous.\ +\ +To understand the laws of this continuous movement is the aim of\ +history. But to arrive at these laws, resulting from the sum of all\ +those human wills, man's mind postulates arbitrary and disconnected\ +units. The first method of history is to take an arbitrarily selected\ +series of continuous events and examine it apart from others, though\ +there is and can be no beginning to any event, for one event always\ +flows uninterruptedly from another.\ +\ +The second method is to consider the actions of some one man--a king or\ +a commander--as equivalent to the sum of many individual wills; whereas\ +the sum of individual wills is never expressed by the activity of a\ +single historic personage.\ +\ +Historical science in its endeavor to draw nearer to truth continually\ +takes smaller and smaller units for examination. But however small the\ +units it takes, we feel that to take any unit disconnected from others,\ +or to assume a beginning of any phenomenon, or to say that the will of\ +many men is expressed by the actions of any one historic personage, is\ +in itself false.\ +\ +It needs no critical exertion to reduce utterly to dust any deductions\ +drawn from history. It is merely necessary to select some larger or\ +smaller unit as the subject of observation--as criticism has every right\ +to do, seeing that whatever unit history observes must always be\ +arbitrarily selected.\ +\ +Only by taking infinitesimally small units for observation (the\ +differential of history, that is, the individual tendencies of men) and\ +attaining to the art of integrating them (that is, finding the sum of\ +these infinitesimals) can we hope to arrive at the laws of history.\ +\ +The first fifteen years of the nineteenth century in Europe present an\ +extraordinary movement of millions of people. Men leave their customary\ +pursuits, hasten from one side of Europe to the other, plunder and\ +slaughter one another, triumph and are plunged in despair, and for some\ +years the whole course of life is altered and presents an intensive\ +movement which first increases and then slackens. What was the cause of\ +this movement, by what laws was it governed? asks the mind of man.\ +\ +The historians, replying to this question, lay before us the sayings and\ +doings of a few dozen men in a building in the city of Paris, calling\ +these sayings and doings "the Revolution"; then they give a detailed\ +biography of Napoleon and of certain people favorable or hostile to him;\ +tell of the influence some of these people had on others, and say: that\ +is why this movement took place and those are its laws.\ +\ +But the mind of man not only refuses to believe this explanation, but\ +plainly says that this method of explanation is fallacious, because in\ +it a weaker phenomenon is taken as the cause of a stronger. The sum of\ +human wills produced the Revolution and Napoleon, and only the sum of\ +those wills first tolerated and then destroyed them.\ +\ +"But every time there have been conquests there have been conquerors;\ +every time there has been a revolution in any state there have been\ +great men," says history. And, indeed, human reason replies: every time\ +conquerors appear there have been wars, but this does not prove that the\ +conquerors caused the wars and that it is possible to find the laws of a\ +war in the personal activity of a single man. Whenever I look at my\ +watch and its hands point to ten, I hear the bells of the neighboring\ +church; but because the bells begin to ring when the hands of the clock\ +reach ten, I have no right to assume that the movement of the bells is\ +caused by the position of the hands of the watch.\ +\ +Whenever I see the movement of a locomotive I hear the whistle and see\ +the valves opening and wheels turning; but I have no right to conclude\ +that the whistling and the turning of wheels are the cause of the\ +movement of the engine.\ +\ +The peasants say that a cold wind blows in late spring because the oaks\ +are budding, and really every spring cold winds do blow when the oak is\ +budding. But though I do not know what causes the cold winds to blow\ +when the oak buds unfold, I cannot agree with the peasants that the\ +unfolding of the oak buds is the cause of the cold wind, for the force\ +of the wind is beyond the influence of the buds. I see only a\ +coincidence of occurrences such as happens with all the phenomena of\ +life, and I see that however much and however carefully I observe the\ +hands of the watch, and the valves and wheels of the engine, and the\ +oak, I shall not discover the cause of the bells ringing, the engine\ +moving, or of the winds of spring. To that I must entirely change my\ +point of view and study the laws of the movement of steam, of the bells,\ +and of the wind. History must do the same. And attempts in this\ +direction have already been made.\ +\ +To study the laws of history we must completely change the subject of\ +our observation, must leave aside kings, ministers, and generals, and\ +study the common, infinitesimally small elements by which the masses are\ +moved. No one can say in how far it is possible for man to advance in\ +this way toward an understanding of the laws of history; but it is\ +evident that only along that path does the possibility of discovering\ +the laws of history lie, and that as yet not a millionth part as much\ +mental effort has been applied in this direction by historians as has\ +been devoted to describing the actions of various kings, commanders, and\ +ministers and propounding the historians' own reflections concerning\ +these actions.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER II\ +\ +The forces of a dozen European nations burst into Russia. The Russian\ +army and people avoided a collision till Smolensk was reached, and again\ +from Smolensk to Borodino. The French army pushed on to Moscow, its\ +goal, its impetus ever increasing as it neared its aim, just as the\ +velocity of a falling body increases as it approaches the earth. Behind\ +it were seven hundred miles of hunger-stricken, hostile country; ahead\ +were a few dozen miles separating it from its goal. Every soldier in\ +Napoleon's army felt this and the invasion moved on by its own momentum.\ +\ +The more the Russian army retreated the more fiercely a spirit of hatred\ +of the enemy flared up, and while it retreated the army increased and\ +consolidated. At Borodino a collision took place. Neither army was\ +broken up, but the Russian army retreated immediately after the\ +collision as inevitably as a ball recoils after colliding with another\ +having a greater momentum, and with equal inevitability the ball of\ +invasion that had advanced with such momentum rolled on for some\ +distance, though the collision had deprived it of all its force.\ +\ +The Russians retreated eighty miles--to beyond Moscow--and the French\ +reached Moscow and there came to a standstill. For five weeks after that\ +there was not a single battle. The French did not move. As a bleeding,\ +mortally wounded animal licks its wounds, they remained inert in Moscow\ +for five weeks, and then suddenly, with no fresh reason, fled back: they\ +made a dash for the Kaluga road, and (after a victory--for at Malo-\ +Yaroslavets the field of conflict again remained theirs) without\ +undertaking a single serious battle, they fled still more rapidly back\ +to Smolensk, beyond Smolensk, beyond the Berezina, beyond Vilna, and\ +farther still.\ +\ +On the evening of the twenty-sixth of August, Kutuzov and the whole\ +Russian army were convinced that the battle of Borodino was a victory.\ +Kutuzov reported so to the Emperor. He gave orders to prepare for a\ +fresh conflict to finish the enemy and did this not to deceive anyone,\ +but because he knew that the enemy was beaten, as everyone who had taken\ +part in the battle knew it.\ +\ +But all that evening and next day reports came in one after another of\ +unheard-of losses, of the loss of half the army, and a fresh battle\ +proved physically impossible.\ +\ +It was impossible to give battle before information had been collected,\ +the wounded gathered in, the supplies of ammunition replenished, the\ +slain reckoned up, new officers appointed to replace those who had been\ +killed, and before the men had had food and sleep. And meanwhile, the\ +very next morning after the battle, the French army advanced of itself\ +upon the Russians, carried forward by the force of its own momentum now\ +seemingly increased in inverse proportion to the square of the distance\ +from its aim. Kutuzov's wish was to attack next day, and the whole army\ +desired to do so. But to make an attack the wish to do so is not\ +sufficient, there must also be a possibility of doing it, and that\ +possibility did not exist. It was impossible not to retreat a day's\ +march, and then in the same way it was impossible not to retreat another\ +and a third day's march, and at last, on the first of September when the\ +army drew near Moscow--despite the strength of the feeling that had\ +arisen in all ranks--the force of circumstances compelled it to retire\ +beyond Moscow. And the troops retired one more, last, day's march, and\ +abandoned Moscow to the enemy.\ +\ +For people accustomed to think that plans of campaign and battles are\ +made by generals--as any one of us sitting over a map in his study may\ +imagine how he would have arranged things in this or that battle--the\ +questions present themselves: Why did Kutuzov during the retreat not do\ +this or that? Why did he not take up a position before reaching Fili?\ +Why did he not retire at once by the Kaluga road, abandoning Moscow? and\ +so on. People accustomed to think in that way forget, or do not know,\ +the inevitable conditions which always limit the activities of any\ +commander in chief. The activity of a commander-in-chief does not at all\ +resemble the activity we imagine to ourselves when we sit at ease in our\ +studies examining some campaign on the map, with a certain number of\ +troops on this and that side in a certain known locality, and begin our\ +plans from some given moment. A commander-in-chief is never dealing with\ +the beginning of any event--the position from which we always\ +contemplate it. The commander-in-chief is always in the midst of a\ +series of shifting events and so he never can at any moment consider the\ +whole import of an event that is occurring. Moment by moment the event\ +is imperceptibly shaping itself, and at every moment of this continuous,\ +uninterrupted shaping of events the commander-in-chief is in the midst\ +of a most complex play of intrigues, worries, contingencies,\ +authorities, projects, counsels, threats, and deceptions and is\ +continually obliged to reply to innumerable questions addressed to him,\ +which constantly conflict with one another.\ +\ +Learned military authorities quite seriously tell us that Kutuzov should\ +have moved his army to the Kaluga road long before reaching Fili, and\ +that somebody actually submitted such a proposal to him. But a commander\ +in chief, especially at a difficult moment, has always before him not\ +one proposal but dozens simultaneously. And all these proposals, based\ +on strategics and tactics, contradict each other.\ +\ +A commander-in-chief's business, it would seem, is simply to choose one\ +of these projects. But even that he cannot do. Events and time do not\ +wait. For instance, on the twenty-eighth it is suggested to him to cross\ +to the Kaluga road, but just then an adjutant gallops up from\ +Miloradovich asking whether he is to engage the French or retire. An\ +order must be given him at once, that instant. And the order to retreat\ +carries us past the turn to the Kaluga road. And after the adjutant\ +comes the commissary general asking where the stores are to be taken,\ +and the chief of the hospitals asks where the wounded are to go, and a\ +courier from Petersburg brings a letter from the sovereign which does\ +not admit of the possibility of abandoning Moscow, and the commander-in-\ +chief's rival, the man who is undermining him (and there are always not\ +merely one but several such), presents a new project diametrically\ +opposed to that of turning to the Kaluga road, and the commander-in-\ +chief himself needs sleep and refreshment to maintain his energy and a\ +respectable general who has been overlooked in the distribution of\ +rewards comes to complain, and the inhabitants of the district pray to\ +be defended, and an officer sent to inspect the locality comes in and\ +gives a report quite contrary to what was said by the officer previously\ +sent; and a spy, a prisoner, and a general who has been on\ +reconnaissance, all describe the position of the enemy's army\ +differently. People accustomed to misunderstand or to forget these\ +inevitable conditions of a commander-in-chief's actions describe to us,\ +for instance, the position of the army at Fili and assume that the\ +commander-in-chief could, on the first of September, quite freely decide\ +whether to abandon Moscow or defend it; whereas, with the Russian army\ +less than four miles from Moscow, no such question existed. When had\ +that question been settled? At Drissa and at Smolensk and most palpably\ +of all on the twenty-fourth of August at Shevardino and on the twenty-\ +sixth at Borodino, and each day and hour and minute of the retreat from\ +Borodino to Fili.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER III\ +\ +When Ermolov, having been sent by Kutuzov to inspect the position, told\ +the field marshal that it was impossible to fight there before Moscow\ +and that they must retreat, Kutuzov looked at him in silence.\ +\ +"Give me your hand," said he and, turning it over so as to feel the\ +pulse, added: "You are not well, my dear fellow. Think what you are\ +saying!"\ +\ +Kutuzov could not yet admit the possibility of retreating beyond Moscow\ +without a battle.\ +\ +On the Poklonny Hill, four miles from the Dorogomilov gate of Moscow,\ +Kutuzov got out of his carriage and sat down on a bench by the roadside.\ +A great crowd of generals gathered round him, and Count Rostopchin, who\ +had come out from Moscow, joined them. This brilliant company separated\ +into several groups who all discussed the advantages and disadvantages\ +of the position, the state of the army, the plans suggested, the\ +situation of Moscow, and military questions generally. Though they had\ +not been summoned for the purpose, and though it was not so called, they\ +all felt that this was really a council of war. The conversations all\ +dealt with public questions. If anyone gave or asked for personal news,\ +it was done in a whisper and they immediately reverted to general\ +matters. No jokes, or laughter, or smiles even, were seen among all\ +these men. They evidently all made an effort to hold themselves at the\ +height the situation demanded. And all these groups, while talking among\ +themselves, tried to keep near the commander-in-chief (whose bench\ +formed the center of the gathering) and to speak so that he might\ +overhear them. The commander in chief listened to what was being said\ +and sometimes asked them to repeat their remarks, but did not himself\ +take part in the conversations or express any opinion. After hearing\ +what was being said by one or other of these groups he generally turned\ +away with an air of disappointment, as though they were not speaking of\ +anything he wished to hear. Some discussed the position that had been\ +chosen, criticizing not the position itself so much as the mental\ +capacity of those who had chosen it. Others argued that a mistake had\ +been made earlier and that a battle should have been fought two days\ +before. Others again spoke of the battle of Salamanca, which was\ +described by Crosart, a newly arrived Frenchman in a Spanish uniform.\ +(This Frenchman and one of the German princes serving with the Russian\ +army were discussing the siege of Saragossa and considering the\ +possibility of defending Moscow in a similar manner.) Count Rostopchin\ +was telling a fourth group that he was prepared to die with the city\ +train bands under the walls of the capital, but that he still could not\ +help regretting having been left in ignorance of what was happening, and\ +that had he known it sooner things would have been different.... A fifth\ +group, displaying the profundity of their strategic perceptions,\ +discussed the direction the troops would now have to take. A sixth group\ +was talking absolute nonsense. Kutuzov's expression grew more and more\ +preoccupied and gloomy. From all this talk he saw only one thing: that\ +to defend Moscow was a physical impossibility in the full meaning of\ +those words, that is to say, so utterly impossible that if any senseless\ +commander were to give orders to fight, confusion would result but the\ +battle would still not take place. It would not take place because the\ +commanders not merely all recognized the position to be impossible, but\ +in their conversations were only discussing what would happen after its\ +inevitable abandonment. How could the commanders lead their troops to a\ +field of battle they considered impossible to hold? The lower-grade\ +officers and even the soldiers (who too reason) also considered the\ +position impossible and therefore could not go to fight, fully convinced\ +as they were of defeat. If Bennigsen insisted on the position being\ +defended and others still discussed it, the question was no longer\ +important in itself but only as a pretext for disputes and intrigue.\ +This Kutuzov knew well.\ +\ +Bennigsen, who had chosen the position, warmly displayed his Russian\ +patriotism (Kutuzov could not listen to this without wincing) by\ +insisting that Moscow must be defended. His aim was as clear as daylight\ +to Kutuzov: if the defense failed, to throw the blame on Kutuzov who had\ +brought the army as far as the Sparrow Hills without giving battle; if\ +it succeeded, to claim the success as his own; or if battle were not\ +given, to clear himself of the crime of abandoning Moscow. But this\ +intrigue did not now occupy the old man's mind. One terrible question\ +absorbed him and to that question he heard no reply from anyone. The\ +question for him now was: "Have I really allowed Napoleon to reach\ +Moscow, and when did I do so? When was it decided? Can it have been\ +yesterday when I ordered Platov to retreat, or was it the evening\ +before, when I had a nap and told Bennigsen to issue orders? Or was it\ +earlier still?... When, when was this terrible affair decided? Moscow\ +must be abandoned. The army must retreat and the order to do so must be\ +given." To give that terrible order seemed to him equivalent to\ +resigning the command of the army. And not only did he love power to\ +which he was accustomed (the honours awarded to Prince Prozorovski,\ +under whom he had served in Turkey, galled him), but he was convinced\ +that he was destined to save Russia and that that was why, against the\ +Emperor's wish and by the will of the people, he had been chosen\ +commander-in-chief. He was convinced that he alone could maintain\ +command of the army in these difficult circumstances, and that in all\ +the world he alone could encounter the invincible Napoleon without fear,\ +and he was horrified at the thought of the order he had to issue. But\ +something had to be decided, and these conversations around him which\ +were assuming too free a character must be stopped.\ +\ +He called the most important generals to him.\ +\ +"My head, be it good or bad, must depend on itself," said he, rising\ +from the bench, and he rode to Fili where his carriages were waiting.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER IV\ +\ +The Council of War began to assemble at two in the afternoon in the\ +better and roomier part of Andrew Savostyanov's hut. The men, women, and\ +children of the large peasant family crowded into the back room across\ +the passage. Only Malasha, Andrew's six-year-old granddaughter whom his\ +Serene Highness had petted and to whom he had given a lump of sugar\ +while drinking his tea, remained on the top of the brick oven in the\ +larger room. Malasha looked down from the oven with shy delight at the\ +faces, uniforms, and decorations of the generals, who one after another\ +came into the room and sat down on the broad benches in the corner under\ +the icons. "Granddad" himself, as Malasha in her own mind called\ +Kutuzov, sat apart in a dark corner behind the oven. He sat, sunk deep\ +in a folding armchair, and continually cleared his throat and pulled at\ +the collar of his coat which, though it was unbuttoned, still seemed to\ +pinch his neck. Those who entered went up one by one to the field\ +marshal; he pressed the hands of some and nodded to others. His adjutant\ +Kaysarov was about to draw back the curtain of the window facing\ +Kutuzov, but the latter moved his hand angrily and Kaysarov understood\ +that his Serene Highness did not wish his face to be seen.\ +\ +Round the peasant's deal table, on which lay maps, plans, pencils, and\ +papers, so many people gathered that the orderlies brought in another\ +bench and put it beside the table. Ermolov, Kaysarov, and Toll, who had\ +just arrived, sat down on this bench. In the foremost place, immediately\ +under the icons, sat Barclay de Tolly, his high forehead merging into\ +his bald crown. He had a St. George's Cross round his neck and looked\ +pale and ill. He had been feverish for two days and was now shivering\ +and in pain. Beside him sat Uvarov, who with rapid gesticulations was\ +giving him some information, speaking in low tones as they all did.\ +Chubby little Dokhturov was listening attentively with eyebrows raised\ +and arms folded on his stomach. On the other side sat Count Ostermann-\ +Tolstoy, seemingly absorbed in his own thoughts. His broad head with its\ +bold features and glittering eyes was resting on his hand. Raevski,\ +twitching forward the black hair on his temples as was his habit,\ +glanced now at Kutuzov and now at the door with a look of impatience.\ +Konovnitsyn's firm, handsome, and kindly face was lit up by a tender,\ +sly smile. His glance met Malasha's, and the expression of his eyes\ +caused the little girl to smile.\ +\ +They were all waiting for Bennigsen, who on the pretext of inspecting\ +the position was finishing his savory dinner. They waited for him from\ +four till six o'clock and did not begin their deliberations all that\ +time but talked in low tones of other matters.\ +\ +Only when Bennigsen had entered the hut did Kutuzov leave his corner and\ +draw toward the table, but not near enough for the candles that had been\ +placed there to light up his face.\ +\ +Bennigsen opened the council with the question: "Are we to abandon\ +Russia's ancient and sacred capital without a struggle, or are we to\ +defend it?" A prolonged and general silence followed. There was a frown\ +on every face and only Kutuzov's angry grunts and occasional cough broke\ +the silence. All eyes were gazing at him. Malasha too looked at\ +"Granddad." She was nearest to him and saw how his face puckered; he\ +seemed about to cry, but this did not last long.\ +\ +"Russia's ancient and sacred capital!" he suddenly said, repeating\ +Bennigsen's words in an angry voice and thereby drawing attention to the\ +false note in them. "Allow me to tell you, your excellency, that that\ +question has no meaning for a Russian." (He lurched his heavy body\ +forward.) "Such a question cannot be put; it is senseless! The question\ +I have asked these gentlemen to meet to discuss is a military one. The\ +question is that of saving Russia. Is it better to give up Moscow\ +without a battle, or by accepting battle to risk losing the army as well\ +as Moscow? That is the question on which I want your opinion," and he\ +sank back in his chair.\ +\ +The discussion began. Bennigsen did not yet consider his game lost.\ +Admitting the view of Barclay and others that a defensive battle at Fili\ +was impossible, but imbued with Russian patriotism and the love of\ +Moscow, he proposed to move troops from the right to the left flank\ +during the night and attack the French right flank the following day.\ +Opinions were divided, and arguments were advanced for and against that\ +project. Ermolov, Dokhturov, and Raevski agreed with Bennigsen. Whether\ +feeling it necessary to make a sacrifice before abandoning the capital\ +or guided by other, personal considerations, these generals seemed not\ +to understand that this council could not alter the inevitable course of\ +events and that Moscow was in effect already abandoned. The other\ +generals, however, understood it and, leaving aside the question of\ +Moscow, spoke of the direction the army should take in its retreat.\ +Malasha, who kept her eyes fixed on what was going on before her,\ +understood the meaning of the council differently. It seemed to her that\ +it was only a personal struggle between "Granddad" and "Long-coat" as\ +she termed Bennigsen. She saw that they grew spiteful when they spoke to\ +one another, and in her heart she sided with "Granddad." In the midst of\ +the conversation she noticed "Granddad" give Bennigsen a quick, subtle\ +glance, and then to her joys she saw that "Granddad" said something to\ +"Long-coat" which settled him. Bennigsen suddenly reddened and paced\ +angrily up and down the room. What so affected him was Kutuzov's calm\ +and quiet comment on the advantage or disadvantage of Bennigsen's\ +proposal to move troops by night from the right to the left flank to\ +attack the French right wing.\ +\ +"Gentlemen," said Kutuzov, "I cannot approve of the count's plan. Moving\ +troops in close proximity to an enemy is always dangerous, and military\ +history supports that view. For instance..." Kutuzov seemed to reflect,\ +searching for an example, then with a clear, naive look at Bennigsen he\ +added: "Oh yes; take the battle of Friedland, which I think the count\ +well remembers, and which was... not fully successful, only because our\ +troops were rearranged too near the enemy..."\ +\ +There followed a momentary pause, which seemed very long to them all.\ +\ +The discussion recommenced, but pauses frequently occurred and they all\ +felt that there was no more to be said.\ +\ +During one of these pauses Kutuzov heaved a deep sigh as if preparing to\ +speak. They all looked at him.\ +\ +"Well, gentlemen, I see that it is I who will have to pay for the broken\ +crockery," said he, and rising slowly he moved to the table. "Gentlemen,\ +I have heard your views. Some of you will not agree with me. But I," he\ +paused, "by the authority entrusted to me by my Sovereign and country,\ +order a retreat."\ +\ +After that the generals began to disperse with the solemnity and\ +circumspect silence of people who are leaving, after a funeral.\ +\ +Some of the generals, in low tones and in a strain very different from\ +the way they had spoken during the council, communicated something to\ +their commander-in-chief.\ +\ +Malasha, who had long been expected for supper, climbed carefully\ +backwards down from the oven, her bare little feet catching at its\ +projections, and slipping between the legs of the generals she darted\ +out of the room.\ +\ +When he had dismissed the generals Kutuzov sat a long time with his\ +elbows on the table, thinking always of the same terrible question:\ +"When, when did the abandonment of Moscow become inevitable? When was\ +that done which settled the matter? And who was to blame for it?"\ +\ +"I did not expect this," said he to his adjutant Schneider when the\ +latter came in late that night. "I did not expect this! I did not think\ +this would happen."\ +\ +"You should take some rest, your Serene Highness," replied Schneider.\ +\ +"But no! They shall eat horseflesh yet, like the Turks!" exclaimed\ +Kutuzov without replying, striking the table with his podgy fist. "They\ +shall too, if only..."\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER V\ +\ +At that very time, in circumstances even more important than retreating\ +without a battle, namely the evacuation and burning of Moscow,\ +Rostopchin, who is usually represented as being the instigator of that\ +event, acted in an altogether different manner from Kutuzov.\ +\ +After the battle of Borodino the abandonment and burning of Moscow was\ +as inevitable as the retreat of the army beyond Moscow without fighting.\ +\ +Every Russian might have predicted it, not by reasoning but by the\ +feeling implanted in each of us and in our fathers.\ +\ +The same thing that took place in Moscow had happened in all the towns\ +and villages on Russian soil beginning with Smolensk, without the\ +participation of Count Rostopchin and his broadsheets. The people\ +awaited the enemy unconcernedly, did not riot or become excited or tear\ +anyone to pieces, but faced its fate, feeling within it the strength to\ +find what it should do at that most difficult moment. And as soon as the\ +enemy drew near the wealthy classes went away abandoning their property,\ +while the poorer remained and burned and destroyed what was left.\ +\ +The consciousness that this would be so and would always be so was and\ +is present in the heart of every Russian. And a consciousness of this,\ +and a foreboding that Moscow would be taken, was present in Russian\ +Moscow society in 1812. Those who had quitted Moscow already in July and\ +at the beginning of August showed that they expected this. Those who\ +went away, taking what they could and abandoning their houses and half\ +their belongings, did so from the latent patriotism which expresses\ +itself not by phrases or by giving one's children to save the fatherland\ +and similar unnatural exploits, but unobtrusively, simply, organically,\ +and therefore in the way that always produces the most powerful results.\ +\ +"It is disgraceful to run away from danger; only cowards are running\ +away from Moscow," they were told. In his broadsheets Rostopchin\ +impressed on them that to leave Moscow was shameful. They were ashamed\ +to be called cowards, ashamed to leave, but still they left, knowing it\ +had to be done. Why did they go? It is impossible to suppose that\ +Rostopchin had scared them by his accounts of horrors Napoleon had\ +committed in conquered countries. The first people to go away were the\ +rich educated people who knew quite well that Vienna and Berlin had\ +remained intact and that during Napoleon's occupation the inhabitants\ +had spent their time pleasantly in the company of the charming Frenchmen\ +whom the Russians, and especially the Russian ladies, then liked so\ +much.\ +\ +They went away because for Russians there could be no question as to\ +whether things would go well or ill under French rule in Moscow. It was\ +out of the question to be under French rule, it would be the worst thing\ +that could happen. They went away even before the battle of Borodino and\ +still more rapidly after it, despite Rostopchin's calls to defend Moscow\ +or the announcement of his intention to take the wonder-working icon of\ +the Iberian Mother of God and go to fight, or of the balloons that were\ +to destroy the French, and despite all the nonsense Rostopchin wrote in\ +his broadsheets. They knew that it was for the army to fight, and that\ +if it could not succeed it would not do to take young ladies and house\ +serfs to the Three Hills quarter of Moscow to fight Napoleon, and that\ +they must go away, sorry as they were to abandon their property to\ +destruction. They went away without thinking of the tremendous\ +significance of that immense and wealthy city being given over to\ +destruction, for a great city with wooden buildings was certain when\ +abandoned by its inhabitants to be burned. They went away each on his\ +own account, and yet it was only in consequence of their going away that\ +the momentous event was accomplished that will always remain the\ +greatest glory of the Russian people. The lady who, afraid of being\ +stopped by Count Rostopchin's orders, had already in June moved with her\ +Negroes and her women jesters from Moscow to her Saratov estate, with a\ +vague consciousness that she was not Bonaparte's servant, was really,\ +simply, and truly carrying out the great work which saved Russia. But\ +Count Rostopchin, who now taunted those who left Moscow and now had the\ +government offices removed; now distributed quite useless weapons to the\ +drunken rabble; now had processions displaying the icons, and now\ +forbade Father Augustin to remove icons or the relics of saints; now\ +seized all the private carts in Moscow and on one hundred and thirty-six\ +of them removed the balloon that was being constructed by Leppich; now\ +hinted that he would burn Moscow and related how he had set fire to his\ +own house; now wrote a proclamation to the French solemnly upbraiding\ +them for having destroyed his Orphanage; now claimed the glory of having\ +hinted that he would burn Moscow and now repudiated the deed; now\ +ordered the people to catch all spies and bring them to him, and now\ +reproached them for doing so; now expelled all the French residents from\ +Moscow, and now allowed Madame Aubert-Chalme (the center of the whole\ +French colony in Moscow) to remain, but ordered the venerable old\ +postmaster Klyucharev to be arrested and exiled for no particular\ +offense; now assembled the people at the Three Hills to fight the French\ +and now, to get rid of them, handed over to them a man to be killed and\ +himself drove away by a back gate; now declared that he would not\ +survive the fall of Moscow, and now wrote French verses in albums\ +concerning his share in the affair--this man did not understand the\ +meaning of what was happening but merely wanted to do something himself\ +that would astonish people, to perform some patriotically heroic feat;\ +and like a child he made sport of the momentous, and unavoidable event--\ +the abandonment and burning of Moscow--and tried with his puny hand now\ +to speed and now to stay the enormous, popular tide that bore him along\ +with it.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER VI\ +\ +Helene, having returned with the court from Vilna to Petersburg, found\ +herself in a difficult position.\ +\ +In Petersburg she had enjoyed the special protection of a grandee who\ +occupied one of the highest posts in the Empire. In Vilna she had formed\ +an intimacy with a young foreign prince. When she returned to Petersburg\ +both the magnate and the prince were there, and both claimed their\ +rights. Helene was faced by a new problem--how to preserve her intimacy\ +with both without offending either.\ +\ +What would have seemed difficult or even impossible to another woman did\ +not cause the least embarrassment to Countess Bezukhova, who evidently\ +deserved her reputation of being a very clever woman. Had she attempted\ +concealment, or tried to extricate herself from her awkward position by\ +cunning, she would have spoiled her case by acknowledging herself\ +guilty. But Helene, like a really great man who can do whatever he\ +pleases, at once assumed her own position to be correct, as she\ +sincerely believed it to be, and that everyone else was to blame.\ +\ +The first time the young foreigner allowed himself to reproach her, she\ +lifted her beautiful head and, half turning to him, said firmly: "That's\ +just like a man--selfish and cruel! I expected nothing else. A woman\ +sacrifices herself for you, she suffers, and this is her reward! What\ +right have you, monseigneur, to demand an account of my attachments and\ +friendships? He is a man who has been more than a father to me!" The\ +prince was about to say something, but Helene interrupted him.\ +\ +"Well, yes," said she, "it may be that he has other sentiments for me\ +than those of a father, but that is not a reason for me to shut my door\ +on him. I am not a man, that I should repay kindness with ingratitude!\ +Know, monseigneur, that in all that relates to my intimate feelings I\ +render account only to God and to my conscience," she concluded, laying\ +her hand on her beautiful, fully expanded bosom and looking up to\ +heaven.\ +\ +"But for heaven's sake listen to me!"\ +\ +"Marry me, and I will be your slave!"\ +\ +"But that's impossible."\ +\ +"You won't deign to demean yourself by marrying me, you..." said Helene,\ +beginning to cry.\ +\ +The prince tried to comfort her, but Helene, as if quite distraught,\ +said through her tears that there was nothing to prevent her marrying,\ +that there were precedents (there were up to that time very few, but she\ +mentioned Napoleon and some other exalted personages), that she had\ +never been her husband's wife, and that she had been sacrificed.\ +\ +"But the law, religion..." said the prince, already yielding.\ +\ +"The law, religion... What have they been invented for if they can't\ +arrange that?" said Helene.\ +\ +The prince was surprised that so simple an idea had not occurred to him,\ +and he applied for advice to the holy brethren of the Society of Jesus,\ +with whom he was on intimate terms.\ +\ +A few days later at one of those enchanting fetes which Helene gave at\ +her country house on the Stone Island, the charming Monsieur de Jobert,\ +a man no longer young, with snow white hair and brilliant black eyes, a\ +Jesuit a robe courte * was presented to her, and in the garden by the\ +light of the illuminations and to the sound of music talked to her for a\ +long time of the love of God, of Christ, of the Sacred Heart, and of the\ +consolations the one true Catholic religion affords in this world and\ +the next. Helene was touched, and more than once tears rose to her eyes\ +and to those of Monsieur de Jobert and their voices trembled. A dance,\ +for which her partner came to seek her, put an end to her discourse with\ +her future directeur de conscience, but the next evening Monsieur de\ +Jobert came to see Helene when she was alone, and after that often came\ +again.\ +\ +\ +* Lay member of the Society of Jesus.\ +\ +One day he took the countess to a Roman Catholic church, where she knelt\ +down before the altar to which she was led. The enchanting, middle-aged\ +Frenchman laid his hands on her head and, as she herself afterward\ +described it, she felt something like a fresh breeze wafted into her\ +soul. It was explained to her that this was la grace.\ +\ +After that a long-frocked abbe was brought to her. She confessed to him,\ +and he absolved her from her sins. Next day she received a box\ +containing the Sacred Host, which was left at her house for her to\ +partake of. A few days later Helene learned with pleasure that she had\ +now been admitted to the true Catholic Church and that in a few days the\ +Pope himself would hear of her and would send her a certain document.\ +\ +All that was done around her and to her at this time, all the attention\ +devoted to her by so many clever men and expressed in such pleasant,\ +refined ways, and the state of dove-like purity she was now in (she wore\ +only white dresses and white ribbons all that time) gave her pleasure,\ +but her pleasure did not cause her for a moment to forget her aim. And\ +as it always happens in contests of cunning that a stupid person gets\ +the better of cleverer ones, Helene--having realized that the main\ +object of all these words and all this trouble was, after converting her\ +to Catholicism, to obtain money from her for Jesuit institutions (as to\ +which she received indications)-before parting with her money insisted\ +that the various operations necessary to free her from her husband\ +should be performed. In her view the aim of every religion was merely to\ +preserve certain proprieties while affording satisfaction to human\ +desires. And with this aim, in one of her talks with her Father\ +Confessor, she insisted on an answer to the question, in how far was she\ +bound by her marriage?\ +\ +They were sitting in the twilight by a window in the drawing room. The\ +scent of flowers came in at the window. Helene was wearing a white\ +dress, transparent over her shoulders and bosom. The abbe, a well-fed\ +man with a plump, clean-shaven chin, a pleasant firm mouth, and white\ +hands meekly folded on his knees, sat close to Helene and, with a subtle\ +smile on his lips and a peaceful look of delight at her beauty,\ +occasionally glanced at her face as he explained his opinion on the\ +subject. Helene with an uneasy smile looked at his curly hair and his\ +plump, clean-shaven, blackish cheeks and every moment expected the\ +conversation to take a fresh turn. But the abbe, though he evidently\ +enjoyed the beauty of his companion, was absorbed in his mastery of the\ +matter.\ +\ +The course of the Father Confessor's arguments ran as follows: "Ignorant\ +of the import of what you were undertaking, you made a vow of conjugal\ +fidelity to a man who on his part, by entering the married state without\ +faith in the religious significance of marriage, committed an act of\ +sacrilege. That marriage lacked the dual significance it should have\ +had. Yet in spite of this your vow was binding. You swerved from it.\ +What did you commit by so acting? A venial, or a mortal, sin? A venial\ +sin, for you acted without evil intention. If now you married again with\ +the object of bearing children, your sin might be forgiven. But the\ +question is again a twofold one: firstly..."\ +\ +But suddenly Helene, who was getting bored, said with one of her\ +bewitching smiles: "But I think that having espoused the true religion I\ +cannot be bound by what a false religion laid upon me."\ +\ +The director of her conscience was astounded at having the case\ +presented to him thus with the simplicity of Columbus' egg. He was\ +delighted at the unexpected rapidity of his pupil's progress, but could\ +not abandon the edifice of argument he had laboriously constructed.\ +\ +"Let us understand one another, Countess," said he with a smile, and\ +began refuting his spiritual daughter's arguments.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER VII\ +\ +Helene understood that the question was very simple and easy from the\ +ecclesiastical point of view, and that her directors were making\ +difficulties only because they were apprehensive as to how the matter\ +would be regarded by the secular authorities.\ +\ +So she decided that it was necessary to prepare the opinion of society.\ +She provoked the jealousy of the elderly magnate and told him what she\ +had told her other suitor; that is, she put the matter so that the only\ +way for him to obtain a right over her was to marry her. The elderly\ +magnate was at first as much taken aback by this suggestion of marriage\ +with a woman whose husband was alive, as the younger man had been, but\ +Helene's imperturbable conviction that it was as simple and natural as\ +marrying a maiden had its effect on him too. Had Helene herself shown\ +the least sign of hesitation, shame, or secrecy, her cause would\ +certainly have been lost; but not only did she show no signs of secrecy\ +or shame, on the contrary, with good-natured naivete she told her\ +intimate friends (and these were all Petersburg) that both the prince\ +and the magnate had proposed to her and that she loved both and was\ +afraid of grieving either.\ +\ +A rumor immediately spread in Petersburg, not that Helene wanted to be\ +divorced from her husband (had such a report spread many would have\ +opposed so illegal an intention) but simply that the unfortunate and\ +interesting Helene was in doubt which of the two men she should marry.\ +The question was no longer whether this was possible, but only which was\ +the better match and how the matter would be regarded at court. There\ +were, it is true, some rigid individuals unable to rise to the height of\ +such a question, who saw in the project a desecration of the sacrament\ +of marriage, but there were not many such and they remained silent,\ +while the majority were interested in Helene's good fortune and in the\ +question which match would be the more advantageous. Whether it was\ +right or wrong to remarry while one had a husband living they did not\ +discuss, for that question had evidently been settled by people "wiser\ +than you or me," as they said, and to doubt the correctness of that\ +decision would be to risk exposing one's stupidity and incapacity to\ +live in society.\ +\ +Only Marya Dmitrievna Akhrosimova, who had come to Petersburg that\ +summer to see one of her sons, allowed herself plainly to express an\ +opinion contrary to the general one. Meeting Helene at a ball she\ +stopped her in the middle of the room and, amid general silence, said in\ +her gruff voice: "So wives of living men have started marrying again!\ +Perhaps you think you have invented a novelty? You have been\ +forestalled, my dear! It was thought of long ago. It is done in all the\ +brothels," and with these words Marya Dmitrievna, turning up her wide\ +sleeves with her usual threatening gesture and glancing sternly round,\ +moved across the room.\ +\ +Though people were afraid of Marya Dmitrievna she was regarded in\ +Petersburg as a buffoon, and so of what she had said they only noticed,\ +and repeated in a whisper, the one coarse word she had used, supposing\ +the whole sting of her remark to lie in that word.\ +\ +Prince Vasili, who of late very often forgot what he had said and\ +repeated one and the same thing a hundred times, remarked to his\ +daughter whenever he chanced to see her:\ +\ +"Helene, I have a word to say to you," and he would lead her aside,\ +drawing her hand downward. "I have heard of certain projects\ +concerning... you know. Well my dear child, you know how your father's\ +heart rejoices to know that you... You have suffered so much.... But, my\ +dear child, consult only your own heart. That is all I have to say," and\ +concealing his unvarying emotion he would press his cheek against his\ +daughter's and move away.\ +\ +Bilibin, who had not lost his reputation of an exceedingly clever man,\ +and who was one of the disinterested friends so brilliant a woman as\ +Helene always has--men friends who can never change into lovers--once\ +gave her his view of the matter at a small and intimate gathering.\ +\ +"Listen, Bilibin," said Helene (she always called friends of that sort\ +by their surnames), and she touched his coat sleeve with her white,\ +beringed fingers. "Tell me, as you would a sister, what I ought to do.\ +Which of the two?"\ +\ +Bilibin wrinkled up the skin over his eyebrows and pondered, with a\ +smile on his lips.\ +\ +"You are not taking me unawares, you know," said he. "As a true friend,\ +I have thought and thought again about your affair. You see, if you\ +marry the prince"--he meant the younger man--and he crooked one finger,\ +"you forever lose the chance of marrying the other, and you will\ +displease the court besides. (You know there is some kind of\ +connection.) But if you marry the old count you will make his last days\ +happy, and as widow of the Grand... the prince would no longer be making\ +a mesalliance by marrying you," and Bilibin smoothed out his forehead.\ +\ +"That's a true friend!" said Helene beaming, and again touching\ +Bilibin's sleeve. "But I love them, you know, and don't want to distress\ +either of them. I would give my life for the happiness of them both."\ +\ +Bilibin shrugged his shoulders, as much as to say that not even he could\ +help in that difficulty.\ +\ +"Une maitresse-femme! * That's what is called putting things squarely.\ +She would like to be married to all three at the same time," thought he.\ +\ +\ +* A masterly woman.\ +\ +"But tell me, how will your husband look at the matter?" Bilibin asked,\ +his reputation being so well established that he did not fear to ask so\ +naive a question. "Will he agree?"\ +\ +"Oh, he loves me so!" said Helene, who for some reason imagined that\ +Pierre too loved her. "He will do anything for me."\ +\ +Bilibin puckered his skin in preparation for something witty.\ +\ +"Even divorce you?" said he.\ +\ +Helene laughed.\ +\ +Among those who ventured to doubt the justifiability of the proposed\ +marriage was Helene's mother, Princess Kuragina. She was continually\ +tormented by jealousy of her daughter, and now that jealousy concerned a\ +subject near to her own heart, she could not reconcile herself to the\ +idea. She consulted a Russian priest as to the possibility of divorce\ +and remarriage during a husband's lifetime, and the priest told her that\ +it was impossible, and to her delight showed her a text in the Gospel\ +which (as it seemed to him) plainly forbids remarriage while the husband\ +is alive.\ +\ +Armed with these arguments, which appeared to her unanswerable, she\ +drove to her daughter's early one morning so as to find her alone.\ +\ +Having listened to her mother's objections, Helene smiled blandly and\ +ironically.\ +\ +"But it says plainly: 'Whosoever shall marry her that is divorced...'"\ +said the old princess.\ +\ +"Ah, Maman, ne dites pas de betises. Vous ne comprenez rien. Dans ma\ +position j'ai des devoirs," * said Helene changing from Russian, in\ +which language she always felt that her case did not sound quite clear,\ +into French which suited it better.\ +\ +\ +* "Oh, Mamma, don't talk nonsense! You don't understand anything. In my\ +position I have obligations."\ +\ +"But, my dear...."\ +\ +"Oh, Mamma, how is it you don't understand that the Holy Father, who has\ +the right to grant dispensations..."\ +\ +Just then the lady companion who lived with Helene came in to announce\ +that His Highness was in the ballroom and wished to see her.\ +\ +"Non, dites-lui que je ne veux pas le voir, que je suis furieuse contre\ +lui, parce qu'il m'a manque parole." *\ +\ +\ +* "No, tell him I don't wish to see him, I am furious with him for not\ +keeping his word to me."\ +\ +"Comtesse, a tout peche misericorde," * said a fair-haired young man\ +with a long face and nose, as he entered the room.\ +\ +\ +* "Countess, there is mercy for every sin."\ +\ +The old princess rose respectfully and curtsied. The young man who had\ +entered took no notice of her. The princess nodded to her daughter and\ +sidled out of the room.\ +\ +"Yes, she is right," thought the old princess, all her convictions\ +dissipated by the appearance of His Highness. "She is right, but how is\ +it that we in our irrecoverable youth did not know it? Yet it is so\ +simple," she thought as she got into her carriage.\ +\ +By the beginning of August Helene's affairs were clearly defined and she\ +wrote a letter to her husband--who, as she imagined, loved her very\ +much--informing him of her intention to marry N.N. and of her having\ +embraced the one true faith, and asking him to carry out all the\ +formalities necessary for a divorce, which would be explained to him by\ +the bearer of the letter.\ +\ +And so I pray God to have you, my friend, in His holy and powerful\ +keeping--Your friend Helene.\ +\ +This letter was brought to Pierre's house when he was on the field of\ +Borodino.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER VIII\ +\ +Toward the end of the battle of Borodino, Pierre, having run down from\ +Raevski's battery a second time, made his way through a gully to\ +Knyazkovo with a crowd of soldiers, reached the dressing station, and\ +seeing blood and hearing cries and groans hurried on, still entangled in\ +the crowds of soldiers.\ +\ +The one thing he now desired with his whole soul was to get away quickly\ +from the terrible sensations amid which he had lived that day and return\ +to ordinary conditions of life and sleep quietly in a room in his own\ +bed. He felt that only in the ordinary conditions of life would he be\ +able to understand himself and all he had seen and felt. But such\ +ordinary conditions of life were nowhere to be found.\ +\ +Though shells and bullets did not whistle over the road along which he\ +was going, still on all sides there was what there had been on the field\ +of battle. There were still the same suffering, exhausted, and sometimes\ +strangely indifferent faces, the same blood, the same soldiers'\ +overcoats, the same sounds of firing which, though distant now, still\ +aroused terror, and besides this there were the foul air and the dust.\ +\ +Having gone a couple of miles along the Mozhaysk road, Pierre sat down\ +by the roadside.\ +\ +Dusk had fallen, and the roar of guns died away. Pierre lay leaning on\ +his elbow for a long time, gazing at the shadows that moved past him in\ +the darkness. He was continually imagining that a cannon ball was flying\ +toward him with a terrific whizz, and then he shuddered and sat up. He\ +had no idea how long he had been there. In the middle of the night three\ +soldiers, having brought some firewood, settled down near him and began\ +lighting a fire.\ +\ +The soldiers, who threw sidelong glances at Pierre, got the fire to burn\ +and placed an iron pot on it into which they broke some dried bread and\ +put a little dripping. The pleasant odor of greasy viands mingled with\ +the smell of smoke. Pierre sat up and sighed. The three soldiers were\ +eating and talking among themselves, taking no notice of him.\ +\ +"And who may you be?" one of them suddenly asked Pierre, evidently\ +meaning what Pierre himself had in mind, namely: "If you want to eat\ +we'll give you some food, only let us know whether you are an honest\ +man."\ +\ +"I, I..." said Pierre, feeling it necessary to minimize his social\ +position as much as possible so as to be nearer to the soldiers and\ +better understood by them. "By rights I am a militia officer, but my men\ +are not here. I came to the battle and have lost them."\ +\ +"There now!" said one of the soldiers.\ +\ +Another shook his head.\ +\ +"Would you like a little mash?" the first soldier asked, and handed\ +Pierre a wooden spoon after licking it clean.\ +\ +Pierre sat down by the fire and began eating the mash, as they called\ +the food in the cauldron, and he thought it more delicious than any food\ +he had ever tasted. As he sat bending greedily over it, helping himself\ +to large spoonfuls and chewing one after another, his face was lit up by\ +the fire and the soldiers looked at him in silence.\ +\ +"Where have you to go to? Tell us!" said one of them.\ +\ +"To Mozhaysk."\ +\ +"You're a gentleman, aren't you?"\ +\ +"Yes."\ +\ +"And what's your name?"\ +\ +"Peter Kirilych."\ +\ +"Well then, Peter Kirilych, come along with us, we'll take you there."\ +\ +In the total darkness the soldiers walked with Pierre to Mozhaysk.\ +\ +By the time they got near Mozhaysk and began ascending the steep hill\ +into the town, the cocks were already crowing. Pierre went on with the\ +soldiers, quite forgetting that his inn was at the bottom of the hill\ +and that he had already passed it. He would not soon have remembered\ +this, such was his state of forgetfulness, had he not halfway up the\ +hill stumbled upon his groom, who had been to look for him in the town\ +and was returning to the inn. The groom recognized Pierre in the\ +darkness by his white hat.\ +\ +"Your excellency!" he said. "Why, we were beginning to despair! How is\ +it you are on foot? And where are you going, please?"\ +\ +"Oh, yes!" said Pierre.\ +\ +The soldiers stopped.\ +\ +"So you've found your folk?" said one of them. "Well, good-by, Peter\ +Kirilych--isn't it?"\ +\ +"Good-bye, Peter Kirilych!" Pierre heard the other voices repeat.\ +\ +"Good-bye!" he said and turned with his groom toward the inn.\ +\ +"I ought to give them something!" he thought, and felt in his pocket.\ +"No, better not!" said another, inner voice.\ +\ +There was not a room to be had at the inn, they were all occupied.\ +Pierre went out into the yard and, covering himself up head and all, lay\ +down in his carriage.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER IX\ +\ +Scarcely had Pierre laid his head on the pillow before he felt himself\ +falling asleep, but suddenly, almost with the distinctness of reality,\ +he heard the boom, boom, boom of firing, the thud of projectiles, groans\ +and cries, and smelled blood and powder, and a feeling of horror and\ +dread of death seized him. Filled with fright he opened his eyes and\ +lifted his head from under his cloak. All was tranquil in the yard. Only\ +someone's orderly passed through the gateway, splashing through the mud,\ +and talked to the innkeeper. Above Pierre's head some pigeons, disturbed\ +by the movement he had made in sitting up, fluttered under the dark roof\ +of the penthouse. The whole courtyard was permeated by a strong peaceful\ +smell of stable yards, delightful to Pierre at that moment. He could see\ +the clear starry sky between the dark roofs of two penthouses.\ +\ +"Thank God, there is no more of that!" he thought, covering up his head\ +again. "Oh, what a terrible thing is fear, and how shamefully I yielded\ +to it! But they... they were steady and calm all the time, to the\ +end..." thought he.\ +\ +They, in Pierre's mind, were the soldiers, those who had been at the\ +battery, those who had given him food, and those who had prayed before\ +the icon. They, those strange men he had not previously known, stood out\ +clearly and sharply from everyone else.\ +\ +"To be a soldier, just a soldier!" thought Pierre as he fell asleep, "to\ +enter communal life completely, to be imbued by what makes them what\ +they are. But how cast off all the superfluous, devilish burden of my\ +outer man? There was a time when I could have done it. I could have run\ +away from my father, as I wanted to. Or I might have been sent to serve\ +as a soldier after the duel with Dolokhov." And the memory of the dinner\ +at the English Club when he had challenged Dolokhov flashed through\ +Pierre's mind, and then he remembered his benefactor at Torzhok. And now\ +a picture of a solemn meeting of the lodge presented itself to his mind.\ +It was taking place at the English Club and someone near and dear to him\ +sat at the end of the table. "Yes, that is he! It is my benefactor. But\ +he died!" thought Pierre. "Yes, he died, and I did not know he was\ +alive. How sorry I am that he died, and how glad I am that he is alive\ +again!" On one side of the table sat Anatole, Dolokhov, Nesvitski,\ +Denisov, and others like them (in his dream the category to which these\ +men belonged was as clearly defined in his mind as the category of those\ +he termed they), and he heard those people, Anatole and Dolokhov,\ +shouting and singing loudly; yet through their shouting the voice of his\ +benefactor was heard speaking all the time and the sound of his words\ +was as weighty and uninterrupted as the booming on the battlefield, but\ +pleasant and comforting. Pierre did not understand what his benefactor\ +was saying, but he knew (the categories of thoughts were also quite\ +distinct in his dream) that he was talking of goodness and the\ +possibility of being what they were. And they with their simple, kind,\ +firm faces surrounded his benefactor on all sides. But though they were\ +kindly they did not look at Pierre and did not know him. Wishing to\ +speak and to attract their attention, he got up, but at that moment his\ +legs grew cold and bare.\ +\ +He felt ashamed, and with one arm covered his legs from which his cloak\ +had in fact slipped. For a moment as he was rearranging his cloak Pierre\ +opened his eyes and saw the same penthouse roofs, posts, and yard, but\ +now they were all bluish, lit up, and glittering with frost or dew.\ +\ +"It is dawn," thought Pierre. "But that's not what I want. I want to\ +hear and understand my benefactor's words." Again he covered himself up\ +with his cloak, but now neither the lodge nor his benefactor was there.\ +There were only thoughts clearly expressed in words, thoughts that\ +someone was uttering or that he himself was formulating.\ +\ +Afterwards when he recalled those thoughts Pierre was convinced that\ +someone outside himself had spoken them, though the impressions of that\ +day had evoked them. He had never, it seemed to him, been able to think\ +and express his thoughts like that when awake.\ +\ +"To endure war is the most difficult subordination of man's freedom to\ +the law of God," the voice had said. "Simplicity is submission to the\ +will of God; you cannot escape from Him. And they are simple. They do\ +not talk, but act. The spoken word is silver but the unspoken is golden.\ +Man can be master of nothing while he fears death, but he who does not\ +fear it possesses all. If there were no suffering, man would not know\ +his limitations, would not know himself. The hardest thing (Pierre went\ +on thinking, or hearing, in his dream) is to be able in your soul to\ +unite the meaning of all. To unite all?" he asked himself. "No, not to\ +unite. Thoughts cannot be united, but to harness all these thoughts\ +together is what we need! Yes, one must harness them, must harness\ +them!" he repeated to himself with inward rapture, feeling that these\ +words and they alone expressed what he wanted to say and solved the\ +question that tormented him.\ +\ +"Yes, one must harness, it is time to harness."\ +\ +"Time to harness, time to harness, your excellency! Your excellency!"\ +some voice was repeating. "We must harness, it is time to harness...."\ +\ +It was the voice of the groom, trying to wake him. The sun shone\ +straight into Pierre's face. He glanced at the dirty innyard in the\ +middle of which soldiers were watering their lean horses at the pump\ +while carts were passing out of the gate. Pierre turned away with\ +repugnance, and closing his eyes quickly fell back on the carriage seat.\ +"No, I don't want that, I don't want to see and understand that. I want\ +to understand what was revealing itself to me in my dream. One second\ +more and I should have understood it all! But what am I to do? Harness,\ +but how can I harness everything?" and Pierre felt with horror that the\ +meaning of all he had seen and thought in the dream had been destroyed.\ +\ +The groom, the coachman, and the innkeeper told Pierre that an officer\ +had come with news that the French were already near Mozhaysk and that\ +our men were leaving it.\ +\ +Pierre got up and, having told them to harness and overtake him, went on\ +foot through the town.\ +\ +The troops were moving on, leaving about ten thousand wounded behind\ +them. There were wounded in the yards, at the windows of the houses, and\ +the streets were crowded with them. In the streets, around carts that\ +were to take some of the wounded away, shouts, curses, and blows could\ +be heard. Pierre offered the use of his carriage, which had overtaken\ +him, to a wounded general he knew, and drove with him to Moscow. On the\ +way Pierre was told of the death of his brother-in-law Anatole and of\ +that of Prince Andrew.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER X\ +\ +On the thirteenth of August Pierre reached Moscow. Close to the gates of\ +the city he was met by Count Rostopchin's adjutant.\ +\ +"We have been looking for you everywhere," said the adjutant. "The count\ +wants to see you particularly. He asks you to come to him at once on a\ +very important matter."\ +\ +Without going home, Pierre took a cab and drove to see the Moscow\ +commander-in-chief.\ +\ +Count Rostopchin had only that morning returned to town from his summer\ +villa at Sokolniki. The anteroom and reception room of his house were\ +full of officials who had been summoned or had come for orders.\ +Vasilchikov and Platov had already seen the count and explained to him\ +that it was impossible to defend Moscow and that it would have to be\ +surrendered. Though this news was being concealed from the inhabitants,\ +the officials--the heads of the various government departments--knew\ +that Moscow would soon be in the enemy's hands, just as Count Rostopchin\ +himself knew it, and to escape personal responsibility they had all come\ +to the governor to ask how they were to deal with their various\ +departments.\ +\ +As Pierre was entering the reception room a courier from the army came\ +out of Rostopchin's private room.\ +\ +In answer to questions with which he was greeted, the courier made a\ +despairing gesture with his hand and passed through the room.\ +\ +While waiting in the reception room Pierre with weary eyes watched the\ +various officials, old and young, military and civilian, who were there.\ +They all seemed dissatisfied and uneasy. Pierre went up to a group of\ +men, one of whom he knew. After greeting Pierre they continued their\ +conversation.\ +\ +"If they're sent out and brought back again later on it will do no harm,\ +but as things are now one can't answer for anything."\ +\ +"But you see what he writes..." said another, pointing to a printed\ +sheet he held in his hand.\ +\ +"That's another matter. That's necessary for the people," said the\ +first.\ +\ +"What is it?" asked Pierre.\ +\ +"Oh, it's a fresh broadsheet."\ +\ +Pierre took it and began reading.\ +\ +His Serene Highness has passed through Mozhaysk in order to join up with\ +the troops moving toward him and has taken up a strong position where\ +the enemy will not soon attack him. Forty eight guns with ammunition\ +have been sent him from here, and his Serene Highness says he will\ +defend Moscow to the last drop of blood and is even ready to fight in\ +the streets. Do not be upset, brothers, that the law courts are closed;\ +things have to be put in order, and we will deal with villains in our\ +own way! When the time comes I shall want both town and peasant lads and\ +will raise the cry a day or two beforehand, but they are not wanted yet\ +so I hold my peace. An ax will be useful, a hunting spear not bad, but a\ +three-pronged fork will be best of all: a Frenchman is no heavier than a\ +sheaf of rye. Tomorrow after dinner I shall take the Iberian icon of the\ +Mother of God to the wounded in the Catherine Hospital where we will\ +have some water blessed. That will help them to get well quicker. I,\ +too, am well now: one of my eyes was sore but now I am on the lookout\ +with both.\ +\ +"But military men have told me that it is impossible to fight in the\ +town," said Pierre, "and that the position..."\ +\ +"Well, of course! That's what we were saying," replied the first\ +speaker.\ +\ +"And what does he mean by 'One of my eyes was sore but now I am on the\ +lookout with both'?" asked Pierre.\ +\ +"The count had a sty," replied the adjutant smiling, "and was very much\ +upset when I told him people had come to ask what was the matter with\ +him. By the by, Count," he added suddenly, addressing Pierre with a\ +smile, "we heard that you have family troubles and that the countess,\ +your wife..."\ +\ +"I have heard nothing," Pierre replied unconcernedly. "But what have you\ +heard?"\ +\ +"Oh, well, you know people often invent things. I only say what I\ +heard."\ +\ +"But what did you hear?"\ +\ +"Well, they say," continued the adjutant with the same smile, "that the\ +countess, your wife, is preparing to go abroad. I expect it's\ +nonsense...."\ +\ +"Possibly," remarked Pierre, looking about him absent-mindedly. "And who\ +is that?" he asked, indicating a short old man in a clean blue peasant\ +overcoat, with a big snow-white beard and eyebrows and a ruddy face.\ +\ +"He? That's a tradesman, that is to say, he's the restaurant keeper,\ +Vereshchagin. Perhaps you have heard of that affair with the\ +proclamation."\ +\ +"Oh, so that is Vereshchagin!" said Pierre, looking at the firm, calm\ +face of the old man and seeking any indication of his being a traitor.\ +\ +"That's not he himself, that's the father of the fellow who wrote the\ +proclamation," said the adjutant. "The young man is in prison and I\ +expect it will go hard with him."\ +\ +An old gentleman wearing a star and another official, a German wearing a\ +cross round his neck, approached the speaker.\ +\ +\ +"It's a complicated story, you know," said the adjutant. "That\ +proclamation appeared about two months ago. The count was informed of\ +it. He gave orders to investigate the matter. Gabriel Ivanovich here\ +made the inquiries. The proclamation had passed through exactly sixty-\ +three hands. He asked one, 'From whom did you get it?' 'From so-and-so.'\ +He went to the next one. 'From whom did you get it?' and so on till he\ +reached Vereshchagin, a half educated tradesman, you know, 'a pet of a\ +trader,'" said the adjutant smiling. "They asked him, 'Who gave it you?'\ +And the point is that we knew whom he had it from. He could only have\ +had it from the Postmaster. But evidently they had come to some\ +understanding. He replied: 'From no one; I made it up myself.' They\ +threatened and questioned him, but he stuck to that: 'I made it up\ +myself.' And so it was reported to the count, who sent for the man.\ +'From whom did you get the proclamation?' 'I wrote it myself.' Well, you\ +know the count," said the adjutant cheerfully, with a smile of pride,\ +"he flared up dreadfully--and just think of the fellow's audacity,\ +lying, and obstinacy!"\ +\ +"And the count wanted him to say it was from Klyucharev? I understand!"\ +said Pierre.\ +\ +"Not at all," rejoined the adjutant in dismay. "Klyucharev had his own\ +sins to answer for without that and that is why he has been banished.\ +But the point is that the count was much annoyed. 'How could you have\ +written it yourself?' said he, and he took up the Hamburg Gazette that\ +was lying on the table. 'Here it is! You did not write it yourself but\ +translated it, and translated it abominably, because you don't even know\ +French, you fool.' And what do you think? 'No,' said he, 'I have not\ +read any papers, I made it up myself.' 'If that's so, you're a traitor\ +and I'll have you tried, and you'll be hanged! Say from whom you had\ +it.' 'I have seen no papers, I made it up myself.' And that was the end\ +of it. The count had the father fetched, but the fellow stuck to it. He\ +was sent for trial and condemned to hard labor, I believe. Now the\ +father has come to intercede for him. But he's a good-for-nothing lad!\ +You know that sort of tradesman's son, a dandy and lady-killer. He\ +attended some lectures somewhere and imagines that the devil is no match\ +for him. That's the sort of fellow he is. His father keeps a cookshop\ +here by the Stone Bridge, and you know there was a large icon of God\ +Almighty painted with a scepter in one hand and an orb in the other.\ +Well, he took that icon home with him for a few days and what did he do?\ +He found some scoundrel of a painter..."\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XI\ +\ +In the middle of this fresh tale Pierre was summoned to the commander in\ +chief.\ +\ +When he entered the private room Count Rostopchin, puckering his face,\ +was rubbing his forehead and eyes with his hand. A short man was saying\ +something, but when Pierre entered he stopped speaking and went out.\ +\ +"Ah, how do you do, great warrior?" said Rostopchin as soon as the short\ +man had left the room. "We have heard of your prowess. But that's not\ +the point. Between ourselves, mon cher, do you belong to the Masons?" he\ +went on severely, as though there were something wrong about it which he\ +nevertheless intended to pardon. Pierre remained silent. "I am well\ +informed, my friend, but I am aware that there are Masons and I hope\ +that you are not one of those who on pretense of saving mankind wish to\ +ruin Russia."\ +\ +"Yes, I am a Mason," Pierre replied.\ +\ +"There, you see, mon cher! I expect you know that Messrs. Speranski and\ +Magnitski have been deported to their proper place. Mr. Klyucharev has\ +been treated in the same way, and so have others who on the plea of\ +building up the temple of Solomon have tried to destroy the temple of\ +their fatherland. You can understand that there are reasons for this and\ +that I could not have exiled the Postmaster had he not been a harmful\ +person. It has now come to my knowledge that you lent him your carriage\ +for his removal from town, and that you have even accepted papers from\ +him for safe custody. I like you and don't wish you any harm and--as you\ +are only half my age--I advise you, as a father would, to cease all\ +communication with men of that stamp and to leave here as soon as\ +possible."\ +\ +"But what did Klyucharev do wrong, Count?" asked Pierre.\ +\ +"That is for me to know, but not for you to ask," shouted Rostopchin.\ +\ +"If he is accused of circulating Napoleon's proclamation it is not\ +proved that he did so," said Pierre without looking at Rostopchin, "and\ +Vereshchagin..."\ +\ +"There we are!" Rostopchin shouted at Pierre louder than before,\ +frowning suddenly. "Vereshchagin is a renegade and a traitor who will be\ +punished as he deserves," said he with the vindictive heat with which\ +people speak when recalling an insult. "But I did not summon you to\ +discuss my actions, but to give you advice--or an order if you prefer\ +it. I beg you to leave the town and break off all communication with\ +such men as Klyucharev. And I will knock the nonsense out of anybody"--\ +but probably realizing that he was shouting at Bezukhov who so far was\ +not guilty of anything, he added, taking Pierre's hand in a friendly\ +manner, "We are on the eve of a public disaster and I haven't time to be\ +polite to everybody who has business with me. My head is sometimes in a\ +whirl. Well, mon cher, what are you doing personally?"\ +\ +"Why, nothing," answered Pierre without raising his eyes or changing the\ +thoughtful expression of his face.\ +\ +The count frowned.\ +\ +"A word of friendly advice, mon cher. Be off as soon as you can, that's\ +all I have to tell you. Happy he who has ears to hear. Good-bye, my dear\ +fellow. Oh, by the by!" he shouted through the doorway after Pierre, "is\ +it true that the countess has fallen into the clutches of the holy\ +fathers of the Society of Jesus?"\ +\ +Pierre did not answer and left Rostopchin's room more sullen and angry\ +than he had ever before shown himself.\ +\ +When he reached home it was already getting dark. Some eight people had\ +come to see him that evening: the secretary of a committee, the colonel\ +of his battalion, his steward, his major-domo, and various petitioners.\ +They all had business with Pierre and wanted decisions from him. Pierre\ +did not understand and was not interested in any of these questions and\ +only answered them in order to get rid of these people. When left alone\ +at last he opened and read his wife's letter.\ +\ +"They, the soldiers at the battery, Prince Andrew killed... that old\ +man... Simplicity is submission to God. Suffering is necessary... the\ +meaning of all... one must harness... my wife is getting married... One\ +must forget and understand..." And going to his bed he threw himself on\ +it without undressing and immediately fell asleep.\ +\ +When he awoke next morning the major-domo came to inform him that a\ +special messenger, a police officer, had come from Count Rostopchin to\ +know whether Count Bezukhov had left or was leaving the town.\ +\ +A dozen persons who had business with Pierre were awaiting him in the\ +drawing room. Pierre dressed hurriedly and, instead of going to see\ +them, went to the back porch and out through the gate.\ +\ +From that time till the end of the destruction of Moscow no one of\ +Bezukhov's household, despite all the search they made, saw Pierre again\ +or knew where he was.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XII\ +\ +The Rostovs remained in Moscow till the first of September, that is,\ +till the eve of the enemy's entry into the city.\ +\ +After Petya had joined Obolenski's regiment of Cossacks and left for\ +Belaya Tserkov where that regiment was forming, the countess was seized\ +with terror. The thought that both her sons were at the war, had both\ +gone from under her wing, that today or tomorrow either or both of them\ +might be killed like the three sons of one of her acquaintances, struck\ +her that summer for the first time with cruel clearness. She tried to\ +get Nicholas back and wished to go herself to join Petya, or to get him\ +an appointment somewhere in Petersburg, but neither of these proved\ +possible. Petya could not return unless his regiment did so or unless he\ +was transferred to another regiment on active service. Nicholas was\ +somewhere with the army and had not sent a word since his last letter,\ +in which he had given a detailed account of his meeting with Princess\ +Mary. The countess did not sleep at night, or when she did fall asleep\ +dreamed that she saw her sons lying dead. After many consultations and\ +conversations, the count at last devised means to tranquillize her. He\ +got Petya transferred from Obolenski's regiment to Bezukhov's, which was\ +in training near Moscow. Though Petya would remain in the service, this\ +transfer would give the countess the consolation of seeing at least one\ +of her sons under her wing, and she hoped to arrange matters for her\ +Petya so as not to let him go again, but always get him appointed to\ +places where he could not possibly take part in a battle. As long as\ +Nicholas alone was in danger the countess imagined that she loved her\ +first-born more than all her other children and even reproached herself\ +for it; but when her youngest: the scapegrace who had been bad at\ +lessons, was always breaking things in the house and making himself a\ +nuisance to everybody, that snub-nosed Petya with his merry black eyes\ +and fresh rosy cheeks where soft down was just beginning to show--when\ +he was thrown amid those big, dreadful, cruel men who were fighting\ +somewhere about something and apparently finding pleasure in it--then\ +his mother thought she loved him more, much more, than all her other\ +children. The nearer the time came for Petya to return, the more uneasy\ +grew the countess. She began to think she would never live to see such\ +happiness. The presence of Sonya, of her beloved Natasha, or even of her\ +husband irritated her. "What do I want with them? I want no one but\ +Petya," she thought.\ +\ +At the end of August the Rostovs received another letter from Nicholas.\ +He wrote from the province of Voronezh where he had been sent to procure\ +remounts, but that letter did not set the countess at ease. Knowing that\ +one son was out of danger she became the more anxious about Petya.\ +\ +Though by the twentieth of August nearly all the Rostovs' acquaintances\ +had left Moscow, and though everybody tried to persuade the countess to\ +get away as quickly as possible, she would not hear of leaving before\ +her treasure, her adored Petya, returned. On the twenty-eighth of August\ +he arrived. The passionate tenderness with which his mother received him\ +did not please the sixteen-year-old officer. Though she concealed from\ +him her intention of keeping him under her wing, Petya guessed her\ +designs, and instinctively fearing that he might give way to emotion\ +when with her--might "become womanish" as he termed it to himself--he\ +treated her coldly, avoided her, and during his stay in Moscow attached\ +himself exclusively to Natasha for whom he had always had a particularly\ +brotherly tenderness, almost lover-like.\ +\ +Owing to the count's customary carelessness nothing was ready for their\ +departure by the twenty-eighth of August and the carts that were to come\ +from their Ryazan and Moscow estates to remove their household\ +belongings did not arrive till the thirtieth.\ +\ +From the twenty-eighth till the thirty-first all Moscow was in a bustle\ +and commotion. Every day thousands of men wounded at Borodino were\ +brought in by the Dorogomilov gate and taken to various parts of Moscow,\ +and thousands of carts conveyed the inhabitants and their possessions\ +out by the other gates. In spite of Rostopchin's broadsheets, or because\ +of them or independently of them, the strangest and most contradictory\ +rumors were current in the town. Some said that no one was to be allowed\ +to leave the city, others on the contrary said that all the icons had\ +been taken out of the churches and everybody was to be ordered to leave.\ +Some said there had been another battle after Borodino at which the\ +French had been routed, while others on the contrary reported that the\ +Russian army had been destroyed. Some talked about the Moscow militia\ +which, preceded by the clergy, would go to the Three Hills; others\ +whispered that Augustin had been forbidden to leave, that traitors had\ +been seized, that the peasants were rioting and robbing people on their\ +way from Moscow, and so on. But all this was only talk; in reality\ +(though the Council of Fili, at which it was decided to abandon Moscow,\ +had not yet been held) both those who went away and those who remained\ +behind felt, though they did not show it, that Moscow would certainly be\ +abandoned, and that they ought to get away as quickly as possible and\ +save their belongings. It was felt that everything would suddenly break\ +up and change, but up to the first of September nothing had done so. As\ +a criminal who is being led to execution knows that he must die\ +immediately, but yet looks about him and straightens the cap that is\ +awry on his head, so Moscow involuntarily continued its wonted life,\ +though it knew that the time of its destruction was near when the\ +conditions of life to which its people were accustomed to submit would\ +be completely upset.\ +\ +During the three days preceding the occupation of Moscow the whole\ +Rostov family was absorbed in various activities. The head of the\ +family, Count Ilya Rostov, continually drove about the city collecting\ +the current rumors from all sides and gave superficial and hasty orders\ +at home about the preparations for their departure.\ +\ +The countess watched the things being packed, was dissatisfied with\ +everything, was constantly in pursuit of Petya who was always running\ +away from her, and was jealous of Natasha with whom he spent all his\ +time. Sonya alone directed the practical side of matters by getting\ +things packed. But of late Sonya had been particularly sad and silent.\ +Nicholas' letter in which he mentioned Princess Mary had elicited, in\ +her presence, joyous comments from the countess, who saw an intervention\ +of Providence in this meeting of the princess and Nicholas.\ +\ +"I was never pleased at Bolkonski's engagement to Natasha," said the\ +countess, "but I always wanted Nicholas to marry the princess, and had a\ +presentiment that it would happen. What a good thing it would be!"\ +\ +Sonya felt that this was true: that the only possibility of retrieving\ +the Rostovs' affairs was by Nicholas marrying a rich woman, and that the\ +princess was a good match. It was very bitter for her. But despite her\ +grief, or perhaps just because of it, she took on herself all the\ +difficult work of directing the storing and packing of their things and\ +was busy for whole days. The count and countess turned to her when they\ +had any orders to give. Petya and Natasha on the contrary, far from\ +helping their parents, were generally a nuisance and a hindrance to\ +everyone. Almost all day long the house resounded with their running\ +feet, their cries, and their spontaneous laughter. They laughed and were\ +gay not because there was any reason to laugh, but because gaiety and\ +mirth were in their hearts and so everything that happened was a cause\ +for gaiety and laughter to them. Petya was in high spirits because\ +having left home a boy he had returned (as everybody told him) a fine\ +young man, because he was at home, because he had left Belaya Tserkov\ +where there was no hope of soon taking part in a battle and had come to\ +Moscow where there was to be fighting in a few days, and chiefly because\ +Natasha, whose lead he always followed, was in high spirits. Natasha was\ +gay because she had been sad too long and now nothing reminded her of\ +the cause of her sadness, and because she was feeling well. She was also\ +happy because she had someone to adore her: the adoration of others was\ +a lubricant the wheels of her machine needed to make them run freely--\ +and Petya adored her. Above all, they were gay because there was a war\ +near Moscow, there would be fighting at the town gates, arms were being\ +given out, everybody was escaping--going away somewhere, and in general\ +something extraordinary was happening, and that is always exciting,\ +especially to the young.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XIII\ +\ +On Saturday, the thirty-first of August, everything in the Rostovs'\ +house seemed topsy-turvy. All the doors were open, all the furniture was\ +being carried out or moved about, and the mirrors and pictures had been\ +taken down. There were trunks in the rooms, and hay, wrapping paper, and\ +ropes were scattered about. The peasants and house serfs carrying out\ +the things were treading heavily on the parquet floors. The yard was\ +crowded with peasant carts, some loaded high and already corded up,\ +others still empty.\ +\ +The voices and footsteps of the many servants and of the peasants who\ +had come with the carts resounded as they shouted to one another in the\ +yard and in the house. The count had been out since morning. The\ +countess had a headache brought on by all the noise and turmoil and was\ +lying down in the new sitting room with a vinegar compress on her head.\ +Petya was not at home, he had gone to visit a friend with whom he meant\ +to obtain a transfer from the militia to the active army. Sonya was in\ +the ballroom looking after the packing of the glass and china. Natasha\ +was sitting on the floor of her dismantled room with dresses, ribbons,\ +and scarves strewn all about her, gazing fixedly at the floor and\ +holding in her hands the old ball dress (already out of fashion) which\ +she had worn at her first Petersburg ball.\ +\ +Natasha was ashamed of doing nothing when everyone else was so busy, and\ +several times that morning had tried to set to work, but her heart was\ +not in it, and she could not and did not know how to do anything except\ +with all her heart and all her might. For a while she had stood beside\ +Sonya while the china was being packed and tried to help, but soon gave\ +it up and went to her room to pack her own things. At first she found it\ +amusing to give away dresses and ribbons to the maids, but when that was\ +done and what was left had still to be packed, she found it dull.\ +\ +"Dunyasha, you pack! You will, won't you, dear?" And when Dunyasha\ +willingly promised to do it all for her, Natasha sat down on the floor,\ +took her old ball dress, and fell into a reverie quite unrelated to what\ +ought to have occupied her thoughts now. She was roused from her reverie\ +by the talk of the maids in the next room (which was theirs) and by the\ +sound of their hurried footsteps going to the back porch. Natasha got up\ +and looked out of the window. An enormously long row of carts full of\ +wounded men had stopped in the street.\ +\ +The housekeeper, the old nurse, the cooks, coachmen, maids, footmen,\ +postilions, and scullions stood at the gate, staring at the wounded.\ +\ +Natasha, throwing a clean pocket handkerchief over her hair and holding\ +an end of it in each hand, went out into the street.\ +\ +The former housekeeper, old Mavra Kuzminichna, had stepped out of the\ +crowd by the gate, gone up to a cart with a hood constructed of bast\ +mats, and was speaking to a pale young officer who lay inside. Natasha\ +moved a few steps forward and stopped shyly, still holding her\ +handkerchief, and listened to what the housekeeper was saying.\ +\ +"Then you have nobody in Moscow?" she was saying. "You would be more\ +comfortable somewhere in a house... in ours, for instance... the family\ +are leaving."\ +\ +"I don't know if it would be allowed," replied the officer in a weak\ +voice. "Here is our commanding officer... ask him," and he pointed to a\ +stout major who was walking back along the street past the row of carts.\ +\ +Natasha glanced with frightened eyes at the face of the wounded officer\ +and at once went to meet the major.\ +\ +"May the wounded men stay in our house?" she asked.\ +\ +The major raised his hand to his cap with a smile.\ +\ +"Which one do you want, Ma'am'selle?" said he, screwing up his eyes and\ +smiling.\ +\ +Natasha quietly repeated her question, and her face and whole manner\ +were so serious, though she was still holding the ends of her\ +handkerchief, that the major ceased smiling and after some reflection--\ +as if considering in how far the thing was possible--replied in the\ +affirmative.\ +\ +"Oh yes, why not? They may," he said.\ +\ +With a slight inclination of her head, Natasha stepped back quickly to\ +Mavra Kuzminichna, who stood talking compassionately to the officer.\ +\ +"They may. He says they may!" whispered Natasha.\ +\ +The cart in which the officer lay was turned into the Rostovs' yard, and\ +dozens of carts with wounded men began at the invitation of the\ +townsfolk to turn into the yards and to draw up at the entrances of the\ +houses in Povarskaya Street. Natasha was evidently pleased to be dealing\ +with new people outside the ordinary routine of her life. She and Mavra\ +Kuzminichna tried to get as many of the wounded as possible into their\ +yard.\ +\ +"Your Papa must be told, though," said Mavra Kuzminichna.\ +\ +"Never mind, never mind, what does it matter? For one day we can move\ +into the drawing room. They can have all our half of the house."\ +\ +"There now, young lady, you do take things into your head! Even if we\ +put them into the wing, the men's room, or the nurse's room, we must ask\ +permission."\ +\ +"Well, I'll ask."\ +\ +Natasha ran into the house and went on tiptoe through the half-open door\ +into the sitting room, where there was a smell of vinegar and Hoffman's\ +drops.\ +\ +"Are you asleep, Mamma?"\ +\ +"Oh, what sleep-?" said the countess, waking up just as she was dropping\ +into a doze.\ +\ +"Mamma darling!" said Natasha, kneeling by her mother and bringing her\ +face close to her mother's, "I am sorry, forgive me, I'll never do it\ +again; I woke you up! Mavra Kuzminichna has sent me: they have brought\ +some wounded here--officers. Will you let them come? They have nowhere\ +to go. I knew you'd let them come!" she said quickly all in one breath.\ +\ +"What officers? Whom have they brought? I don't understand anything\ +about it," said the countess.\ +\ +Natasha laughed, and the countess too smiled slightly.\ +\ +"I knew you'd give permission... so I'll tell them," and, having kissed\ +her mother, Natasha got up and went to the door.\ +\ +In the hall she met her father, who had returned with bad news.\ +\ +"We've stayed too long!" said the count with involuntary vexation. "The\ +club is closed and the police are leaving."\ +\ +"Papa, is it all right--I've invited some of the wounded into the\ +house?" said Natasha.\ +\ +"Of course it is," he answered absently. "That's not the point. I beg\ +you not to indulge in trifles now, but to help to pack, and tomorrow we\ +must go, go, go!...."\ +\ +And the count gave a similar order to the major-domo and the servants.\ +\ +At dinner Petya having returned home told them the news he had heard. He\ +said the people had been getting arms in the Kremlin, and that though\ +Rostopchin's broadsheet had said that he would sound a call two or three\ +days in advance, the order had certainly already been given for everyone\ +to go armed to the Three Hills tomorrow, and that there would be a big\ +battle there.\ +\ +The countess looked with timid horror at her son's eager, excited face\ +as he said this. She realized that if she said a word about his not\ +going to the battle (she knew he enjoyed the thought of the impending\ +engagement) he would say something about men, honor, and the fatherland-\ +-something senseless, masculine, and obstinate which there would be no\ +contradicting, and her plans would be spoiled; and so, hoping to arrange\ +to leave before then and take Petya with her as their protector and\ +defender, she did not answer him, but after dinner called the count\ +aside and implored him with tears to take her away quickly, that very\ +night if possible. With a woman's involuntary loving cunning she, who\ +till then had not shown any alarm, said that she would die of fright if\ +they did not leave that very night. Without any pretense she was now\ +afraid of everything.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XIV\ +\ +Madame Schoss, who had been out to visit her daughter, increased the\ +countess' fears still more by telling what she had seen at a spirit\ +dealer's in Myasnitski Street. When returning by that street she had\ +been unable to pass because of a drunken crowd rioting in front of the\ +shop. She had taken a cab and driven home by a side street and the\ +cabman had told her that the people were breaking open the barrels at\ +the drink store, having received orders to do so.\ +\ +After dinner the whole Rostov household set to work with enthusiastic\ +haste packing their belongings and preparing for their departure. The\ +old count, suddenly setting to work, kept passing from the yard to the\ +house and back again, shouting confused instructions to the hurrying\ +people, and flurrying them still more. Petya directed things in the\ +yard. Sonya, owing to the count's contradictory orders, lost her head\ +and did not know what to do. The servants ran noisily about the house\ +and yard, shouting and disputing. Natasha, with the ardor characteristic\ +of all she did suddenly set to work too. At first her intervention in\ +the business of packing was received skeptically. Everybody expected\ +some prank from her and did not wish to obey her; but she resolutely and\ +passionately demanded obedience, grew angry and nearly cried because\ +they did not heed her, and at last succeeded in making them believe her.\ +Her first exploit, which cost her immense effort and established her\ +authority, was the packing of the carpets. The count had valuable\ +Gobelin tapestries and Persian carpets in the house. When Natasha set to\ +work two cases were standing open in the ballroom, one almost full up\ +with crockery, the other with carpets. There was also much china\ +standing on the tables, and still more was being brought in from the\ +storeroom. A third case was needed and servants had gone to fetch it.\ +\ +"Sonya, wait a bit--we'll pack everything into these," said Natasha.\ +\ +"You can't, Miss, we have tried to," said the butler's assistant.\ +\ +"No, wait a minute, please."\ +\ +And Natasha began rapidly taking out of the case dishes and plates\ +wrapped in paper.\ +\ +"The dishes must go in here among the carpets," said she.\ +\ +"Why, it's a mercy if we can get the carpets alone into three cases,"\ +said the butler's assistant.\ +\ +"Oh, wait, please!" And Natasha began rapidly and deftly sorting out the\ +things. "These aren't needed," said she, putting aside some plates of\ +Kiev ware. "These--yes, these must go among the carpets," she said,\ +referring to the Saxony china dishes.\ +\ +"Don't, Natasha! Leave it alone! We'll get it all packed," urged Sonya\ +reproachfully.\ +\ +"What a young lady she is!" remarked the major-domo.\ +\ +But Natasha would not give in. She turned everything out and began\ +quickly repacking, deciding that the inferior Russian carpets and\ +unnecessary crockery should not be taken at all. When everything had\ +been taken out of the cases, they recommenced packing, and it turned out\ +that when the cheaper things not worth taking had nearly all been\ +rejected, the valuable ones really did all go into the two cases. Only\ +the lid of the case containing the carpets would not shut down. A few\ +more things might have been taken out, but Natasha insisted on having\ +her own way. She packed, repacked, pressed, made the butler's assistant\ +and Petya--whom she had drawn into the business of packing--press on the\ +lid, and made desperate efforts herself.\ +\ +"That's enough, Natasha," said Sonya. "I see you were right, but just\ +take out the top one."\ +\ +"I won't!" cried Natasha, with one hand holding back the hair that hung\ +over her perspiring face, while with the other she pressed down the\ +carpets. "Now press, Petya! Press, Vasilich, press hard!" she cried.\ +\ +The carpets yielded and the lid closed; Natasha, clapping her hands,\ +screamed with delight and tears fell from her eyes. But this only lasted\ +a moment. She at once set to work afresh and they now trusted her\ +completely. The count was not angry even when they told him that Natasha\ +had countermanded an order of his, and the servants now came to her to\ +ask whether a cart was sufficiently loaded, and whether it might be\ +corded up. Thanks to Natasha's directions the work now went on\ +expeditiously, unnecessary things were left, and the most valuable\ +packed as compactly as possible.\ +\ +But hard as they all worked till quite late that night, they could not\ +get everything packed. The countess had fallen asleep and the count,\ +having put off their departure till next morning, went to bed.\ +\ +Sonya and Natasha slept in the sitting room without undressing.\ +\ +That night another wounded man was driven down the Povarskaya, and Mavra\ +Kuzminichna, who was standing at the gate, had him brought into the\ +Rostovs' yard. Mavra Kuzminichna concluded that he was a very important\ +man. He was being conveyed in a caleche with a raised hood, and was\ +quite covered by an apron. On the box beside the driver sat a venerable\ +old attendant. A doctor and two soldiers followed the carriage in a\ +cart.\ +\ +"Please come in here. The masters are going away and the whole house\ +will be empty," said the old woman to the old attendant.\ +\ +"Well, perhaps," said he with a sigh. "We don't expect to get him home\ +alive! We have a house of our own in Moscow, but it's a long way from\ +here, and there's nobody living in it."\ +\ +"Do us the honor to come in, there's plenty of everything in the\ +master's house. Come in," said Mavra Kuzminichna. "Is he very ill?" she\ +asked.\ +\ +The attendant made a hopeless gesture.\ +\ +"We don't expect to get him home! We must ask the doctor."\ +\ +And the old servant got down from the box and went up to the cart.\ +\ +"All right!" said the doctor.\ +\ +The old servant returned to the caleche, looked into it, shook his head\ +disconsolately, told the driver to turn into the yard, and stopped\ +beside Mavra Kuzminichna.\ +\ +"O, Lord Jesus Christ!" she murmured.\ +\ +She invited them to take the wounded man into the house.\ +\ +"The masters won't object..." she said.\ +\ +But they had to avoid carrying the man upstairs, and so they took him\ +into the wing and put him in the room that had been Madame Schoss'.\ +\ +This wounded man was Prince Andrew Bolkonski.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XV\ +\ +Moscow's last day had come. It was a clear bright autumn day, a Sunday.\ +The church bells everywhere were ringing for service, just as usual on\ +Sundays. Nobody seemed yet to realize what awaited the city.\ +\ +Only two things indicated the social condition of Moscow--the rabble,\ +that is the poor people, and the price of commodities. An enormous crowd\ +of factory hands, house serfs, and peasants, with whom some officials,\ +seminarists, and gentry were mingled, had gone early that morning to the\ +Three Hills. Having waited there for Rostopchin who did not turn up,\ +they became convinced that Moscow would be surrendered, and then\ +dispersed all about the town to the public houses and cookshops. Prices\ +too that day indicated the state of affairs. The price of weapons, of\ +gold, of carts and horses, kept rising, but the value of paper money and\ +city articles kept falling, so that by midday there were instances of\ +carters removing valuable goods, such as cloth, and receiving in payment\ +a half of what they carted, while peasant horses were fetching five\ +hundred rubles each, and furniture, mirrors, and bronzes were being\ +given away for nothing.\ +\ +In the Rostovs' staid old-fashioned house the dissolution of former\ +conditions of life was but little noticeable. As to the serfs the only\ +indication was that three out of their huge retinue disappeared during\ +the night, but nothing was stolen; and as to the value of their\ +possessions, the thirty peasant carts that had come in from their\ +estates and which many people envied proved to be extremely valuable and\ +they were offered enormous sums of money for them. Not only were huge\ +sums offered for the horses and carts, but on the previous evening and\ +early in the morning of the first of September, orderlies and servants\ +sent by wounded officers came to the Rostovs' and wounded men dragged\ +themselves there from the Rostovs' and from neighboring houses where\ +they were accommodated, entreating the servants to try to get them a\ +lift out of Moscow. The major-domo to whom these entreaties were\ +addressed, though he was sorry for the wounded, resolutely refused,\ +saying that he dare not even mention the matter to the count. Pity these\ +wounded men as one might, it was evident that if they were given one\ +cart there would be no reason to refuse another, or all the carts and\ +one's own carriages as well. Thirty carts could not save all the wounded\ +and in the general catastrophe one could not disregard oneself and one's\ +own family. So thought the major-domo on his master's behalf.\ +\ +On waking up that morning Count Ilya Rostov left his bedroom softly, so\ +as not to wake the countess who had fallen asleep only toward morning,\ +and came out to the porch in his lilac silk dressing gown. In the yard\ +stood the carts ready corded. The carriages were at the front porch. The\ +major-domo stood at the porch talking to an elderly orderly and to a\ +pale young officer with a bandaged arm. On seeing the count the major-\ +domo made a significant and stern gesture to them both to go away.\ +\ +"Well, Vasilich, is everything ready?" asked the count, and stroking his\ +bald head he looked good-naturedly at the officer and the orderly and\ +nodded to them. (He liked to see new faces.)\ +\ +"We can harness at once, your excellency."\ +\ +"Well, that's right. As soon as the countess wakes we'll be off, God\ +willing! What is it, gentlemen?" he added, turning to the officer. "Are\ +you staying in my house?"\ +\ +The officer came nearer and suddenly his face flushed crimson.\ +\ +"Count, be so good as to allow me... for God's sake, to get into some\ +corner of one of your carts! I have nothing here with me.... I shall be\ +all right on a loaded cart..."\ +\ +Before the officer had finished speaking the orderly made the same\ +request on behalf of his master.\ +\ +"Oh, yes, yes, yes!" said the count hastily. "I shall be very pleased,\ +very pleased. Vasilich, you'll see to it. Just unload one or two carts.\ +Well, what of it... do what's necessary..." said the count, muttering\ +some indefinite order.\ +\ +But at the same moment an expression of warm gratitude on the officer's\ +face had already sealed the order. The count looked around him. In the\ +yard, at the gates, at the window of the wings, wounded officers and\ +their orderlies were to be seen. They were all looking at the count and\ +moving toward the porch.\ +\ +"Please step into the gallery, your excellency," said the major-domo.\ +"What are your orders about the pictures?"\ +\ +The count went into the house with him, repeating his order not to\ +refuse the wounded who asked for a lift.\ +\ +"Well, never mind, some of the things can be unloaded," he added in a\ +soft, confidential voice, as though afraid of being overheard.\ +\ +At nine o'clock the countess woke up, and Matrena Timofeevna, who had\ +been her lady's maid before her marriage and now performed a sort of\ +chief gendarme's duty for her, came to say that Madame Schoss was much\ +offended and the young ladies' summer dresses could not be left behind.\ +On inquiry, the countess learned that Madame Schoss was offended because\ +her trunk had been taken down from its cart, and all the loads were\ +being uncorded and the luggage taken out of the carts to make room for\ +wounded men whom the count in the simplicity of his heart had ordered\ +that they should take with them. The countess sent for her husband.\ +\ +"What is this, my dear? I hear that the luggage is being unloaded."\ +\ +"You know, love, I wanted to tell you... Countess dear... an officer\ +came to me to ask for a few carts for the wounded. After all, ours are\ +things that can be bought but think what being left behind means to\ +them!... Really now, in our own yard--we asked them in ourselves and\ +there are officers among them.... You know, I think, my dear... let them\ +be taken... where's the hurry?"\ +\ +The count spoke timidly, as he always did when talking of money matters.\ +The countess was accustomed to this tone as a precursor of news of\ +something detrimental to the children's interests, such as the building\ +of a new gallery or conservatory, the inauguration of a private theater\ +or an orchestra. She was accustomed always to oppose anything announced\ +in that timid tone and considered it her duty to do so.\ +\ +She assumed her dolefully submissive manner and said to her husband:\ +"Listen to me, Count, you have managed matters so that we are getting\ +nothing for the house, and now you wish to throw away all our--all the\ +children's property! You said yourself that we have a hundred thousand\ +rubles' worth of things in the house. I don't consent, my dear, I don't!\ +Do as you please! It's the government's business to look after the\ +wounded; they know that. Look at the Lopukhins opposite, they cleared\ +out everything two days ago. That's what other people do. It's only we\ +who are such fools. If you have no pity on me, have some for the\ +children."\ +\ +Flourishing his arms in despair the count left the room without\ +replying.\ +\ +"Papa, what are you doing that for?" asked Natasha, who had followed him\ +into her mother's room.\ +\ +"Nothing! What business is it of yours?" muttered the count angrily.\ +\ +"But I heard," said Natasha. "Why does Mamma object?"\ +\ +"What business is it of yours?" cried the count.\ +\ +Natasha stepped up to the window and pondered.\ +\ +"Papa! Here's Berg coming to see us," said she, looking out of the\ +window.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XVI\ +\ +Berg, the Rostovs' son-in-law, was already a colonel wearing the orders\ +of Vladimir and Anna, and he still filled the quiet and agreeable post\ +of assistant to the head of the staff of the assistant commander of the\ +first division of the Second Army.\ +\ +On the first of September he had come to Moscow from the army.\ +\ +He had nothing to do in Moscow, but he had noticed that everyone in the\ +army was asking for leave to visit Moscow and had something to do there.\ +So he considered it necessary to ask for leave of absence for family and\ +domestic reasons.\ +\ +Berg drove up to his father-in-law's house in his spruce little trap\ +with a pair of sleek roans, exactly like those of a certain prince. He\ +looked attentively at the carts in the yard and while going up to the\ +porch took out a clean pocket handkerchief and tied a knot in it.\ +\ +From the anteroom Berg ran with smooth though impatient steps into the\ +drawing room, where he embraced the count, kissed the hands of Natasha\ +and Sonya, and hastened to inquire after "Mamma's" health.\ +\ +"Health, at a time like this?" said the count. "Come, tell us the news!\ +Is the army retreating or will there be another battle?"\ +\ +"God Almighty alone can decide the fate of our fatherland, Papa," said\ +Berg. "The army is burning with a spirit of heroism and the leaders, so\ +to say, have now assembled in council. No one knows what is coming. But\ +in general I can tell you, Papa, that such a heroic spirit, the truly\ +antique valor of the Russian army, which they--which it" (he corrected\ +himself) "has shown or displayed in the battle of the twenty-sixth--\ +there are no words worthy to do it justice! I tell you, Papa" (he smote\ +himself on the breast as a general he had heard speaking had done, but\ +Berg did it a trifle late for he should have struck his breast at the\ +words "Russian army"), "I tell you frankly that we, the commanders, far\ +from having to urge the men on or anything of that kind, could hardly\ +restrain those... those... yes, those exploits of antique valor," he\ +went on rapidly. "General Barclay de Tolly risked his life everywhere at\ +the head of the troops, I can assure you. Our corps was stationed on a\ +hillside. You can imagine!"\ +\ +And Berg related all that he remembered of the various tales he had\ +heard those days. Natasha watched him with an intent gaze that confused\ +him, as if she were trying to find in his face the answer to some\ +question.\ +\ +"Altogether such heroism as was displayed by the Russian warriors cannot\ +be imagined or adequately praised!" said Berg, glancing round at\ +Natasha, and as if anxious to conciliate her, replying to her intent\ +look with a smile. "'Russia is not in Moscow, she lives in the hearts of\ +her sons!' Isn't it so, Papa?" said he.\ +\ +Just then the countess came in from the sitting room with a weary and\ +dissatisfied expression. Berg hurriedly jumped up, kissed her hand,\ +asked about her health, and, swaying his head from side to side to\ +express sympathy, remained standing beside her.\ +\ +"Yes, Mamma, I tell you sincerely that these are hard and sad times for\ +every Russian. But why are you so anxious? You have still time to get\ +away...."\ +\ +"I can't think what the servants are about," said the countess, turning\ +to her husband. "I have just been told that nothing is ready yet.\ +Somebody after all must see to things. One misses Mitenka at such times.\ +There won't be any end to it."\ +\ +The count was about to say something, but evidently restrained himself.\ +He got up from his chair and went to the door.\ +\ +At that moment Berg drew out his handkerchief as if to blow his nose\ +and, seeing the knot in it, pondered, shaking his head sadly and\ +significantly.\ +\ +"And I have a great favor to ask of you, Papa," said he.\ +\ +"Hm..." said the count, and stopped.\ +\ +"I was driving past Yusupov's house just now," said Berg with a laugh,\ +"when the steward, a man I know, ran out and asked me whether I wouldn't\ +buy something. I went in out of curiosity, you know, and there is a\ +small chiffonier and a dressing table. You know how dear Vera wanted a\ +chiffonier like that and how we had a dispute about it." (At the mention\ +of the chiffonier and dressing table Berg involuntarily changed his tone\ +to one of pleasure at his admirable domestic arrangements.) "And it's\ +such a beauty! It pulls out and has a secret English drawer, you know!\ +And dear Vera has long wanted one. I wish to give her a surprise, you\ +see. I saw so many of those peasant carts in your yard. Please let me\ +have one, I will pay the man well, and..."\ +\ +The count frowned and coughed.\ +\ +"Ask the countess, I don't give orders."\ +\ +"If it's inconvenient, please don't," said Berg. "Only I so wanted it,\ +for dear Vera's sake."\ +\ +"Oh, go to the devil, all of you! To the devil, the devil, the devil..."\ +cried the old count. "My head's in a whirl!"\ +\ +And he left the room. The countess began to cry.\ +\ +"Yes, Mamma! Yes, these are very hard times!" said Berg.\ +\ +Natasha left the room with her father and, as if finding it difficult to\ +reach some decision, first followed him and then ran downstairs.\ +\ +Petya was in the porch, engaged in giving out weapons to the servants\ +who were to leave Moscow. The loaded carts were still standing in the\ +yard. Two of them had been uncorded and a wounded officer was climbing\ +into one of them helped by an orderly.\ +\ +"Do you know what it's about?" Petya asked Natasha.\ +\ +She understood that he meant what were their parents quarreling about.\ +She did not answer.\ +\ +"It's because Papa wanted to give up all the carts to the wounded," said\ +Petya. "Vasilich told me. I consider..."\ +\ +"I consider," Natasha suddenly almost shouted, turning her angry face to\ +Petya, "I consider it so horrid, so abominable, so... I don't know what.\ +Are we despicable Germans?"\ +\ +Her throat quivered with convulsive sobs and, afraid of weakening and\ +letting the force of her anger run to waste, she turned and rushed\ +headlong up the stairs.\ +\ +Berg was sitting beside the countess consoling her with the respectful\ +attention of a relative. The count, pipe in hand, was pacing up and down\ +the room, when Natasha, her face distorted by anger, burst in like a\ +tempest and approached her mother with rapid steps.\ +\ +"It's horrid! It's abominable!" she screamed. "You can't possibly have\ +ordered it!"\ +\ +Berg and the countess looked at her, perplexed and frightened. The count\ +stood still at the window and listened.\ +\ +"Mamma, it's impossible: see what is going on in the yard!" she cried.\ +"They will be left!..."\ +\ +"What's the matter with you? Who are 'they'? What do you want?"\ +\ +"Why, the wounded! It's impossible, Mamma. It's monstrous!... No, Mamma\ +darling, it's not the thing. Please forgive me, darling.... Mamma, what\ +does it matter what we take away? Only look what is going on in the\ +yard... Mamma!... It's impossible!"\ +\ +The count stood by the window and listened without turning round.\ +Suddenly he sniffed and put his face closer to the window.\ +\ +The countess glanced at her daughter, saw her face full of shame for her\ +mother, saw her agitation, and understood why her husband did not turn\ +to look at her now, and she glanced round quite disconcerted.\ +\ +"Oh, do as you like! Am I hindering anyone?" she said, not surrendering\ +at once.\ +\ +"Mamma, darling, forgive me!"\ +\ +But the countess pushed her daughter away and went up to her husband.\ +\ +"My dear, you order what is right.... You know I don't understand about\ +it," said she, dropping her eyes shamefacedly.\ +\ +"The eggs... the eggs are teaching the hen," muttered the count through\ +tears of joy, and he embraced his wife who was glad to hide her look of\ +shame on his breast.\ +\ +"Papa! Mamma! May I see to it? May I?..." asked Natasha. "We will still\ +take all the most necessary things."\ +\ +The count nodded affirmatively, and Natasha, at the rapid pace at which\ +she used to run when playing at tag, ran through the ballroom to the\ +anteroom and downstairs into the yard.\ +\ +The servants gathered round Natasha, but could not believe the strange\ +order she brought them until the count himself, in his wife's name,\ +confirmed the order to give up all the carts to the wounded and take the\ +trunks to the storerooms. When they understood that order the servants\ +set to work at this new task with pleasure and zeal. It no longer seemed\ +strange to them but on the contrary it seemed the only thing that could\ +be done, just as a quarter of an hour before it had not seemed strange\ +to anyone that the wounded should be left behind and the goods carted\ +away but that had seemed the only thing to do.\ +\ +The whole household, as if to atone for not having done it sooner, set\ +eagerly to work at the new task of placing the wounded in the carts. The\ +wounded dragged themselves out of their rooms and stood with pale but\ +happy faces round the carts. The news that carts were to be had spread\ +to the neighboring houses, from which wounded men began to come into the\ +Rostovs' yard. Many of the wounded asked them not to unload the carts\ +but only to let them sit on the top of the things. But the work of\ +unloading, once started, could not be arrested. It seemed not to matter\ +whether all or only half the things were left behind. Cases full of\ +china, bronzes, pictures, and mirrors that had been so carefully packed\ +the night before now lay about the yard, and still they went on\ +searching for and finding possibilities of unloading this or that and\ +letting the wounded have another and yet another cart.\ +\ +"We can take four more men," said the steward. "They can have my trap,\ +or else what is to become of them?"\ +\ +"Let them have my wardrobe cart," said the countess. "Dunyasha can go\ +with me in the carriage."\ +\ +They unloaded the wardrobe cart and sent it to take wounded men from a\ +house two doors off. The whole household, servants included, was bright\ +and animated. Natasha was in a state of rapturous excitement such as she\ +had not known for a long time.\ +\ +"What could we fasten this onto?" asked the servants, trying to fix a\ +trunk on the narrow footboard behind a carriage. "We must keep at least\ +one cart."\ +\ +"What's in it?" asked Natasha.\ +\ +"The count's books."\ +\ +"Leave it, Vasilich will put it away. It's not wanted."\ +\ +The phaeton was full of people and there was a doubt as to where Count\ +Peter could sit.\ +\ +"On the box. You'll sit on the box, won't you, Petya?" cried Natasha.\ +\ +Sonya too was busy all this time, but the aim of her efforts was quite\ +different from Natasha's. She was putting away the things that had to be\ +left behind and making a list of them as the countess wished, and she\ +tried to get as much taken away with them as possible.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XVII\ +\ +Before two o'clock in the afternoon the Rostovs' four carriages, packed\ +full and with the horses harnessed, stood at the front door. One by one\ +the carts with the wounded had moved out of the yard.\ +\ +The caleche in which Prince Andrew was being taken attracted Sonya's\ +attention as it passed the front porch. With the help of a maid she was\ +arranging a seat for the countess in the huge high coach that stood at\ +the entrance.\ +\ +"Whose caleche is that?" she inquired, leaning out of the carriage\ +window.\ +\ +"Why, didn't you know, Miss?" replied the maid. "The wounded prince: he\ +spent the night in our house and is going with us."\ +\ +"But who is it? What's his name?"\ +\ +"It's our intended that was--Prince Bolkonski himself! They say he is\ +dying," replied the maid with a sigh.\ +\ +Sonya jumped out of the coach and ran to the countess. The countess,\ +tired out and already dressed in shawl and bonnet for her journey, was\ +pacing up and down the drawing room, waiting for the household to\ +assemble for the usual silent prayer with closed doors before starting.\ +Natasha was not in the room.\ +\ +"Mamma," said Sonya, "Prince Andrew is here, mortally wounded. He is\ +going with us."\ +\ +The countess opened her eyes in dismay and, seizing Sonya's arm, glanced\ +around.\ +\ +"Natasha?" she murmured.\ +\ +At that moment this news had only one significance for both of them.\ +They knew their Natasha, and alarm as to what would happen if she heard\ +this news stifled all sympathy for the man they both liked.\ +\ +"Natasha does not know yet, but he is going with us," said Sonya.\ +\ +"You say he is dying?"\ +\ +Sonya nodded.\ +\ +The countess put her arms around Sonya and began to cry.\ +\ +"The ways of God are past finding out!" she thought, feeling that the\ +Almighty Hand, hitherto unseen, was becoming manifest in all that was\ +now taking place.\ +\ +"Well, Mamma? Everything is ready. What's the matter?" asked Natasha, as\ +with animated face she ran into the room.\ +\ +"Nothing," answered the countess. "If everything is ready let us start."\ +\ +And the countess bent over her reticule to hide her agitated face. Sonya\ +embraced Natasha and kissed her.\ +\ +Natasha looked at her inquiringly.\ +\ +"What is it? What has happened?"\ +\ +"Nothing... No..."\ +\ +"Is it something very bad for me? What is it?" persisted Natasha with\ +her quick intuition.\ +\ +Sonya sighed and made no reply. The count, Petya, Madame Schoss, Mavra\ +Kuzminichna, and Vasilich came into the drawing room and, having closed\ +the doors, they all sat down and remained for some moments silently\ +seated without looking at one another.\ +\ +The count was the first to rise, and with a loud sigh crossed himself\ +before the icon. All the others did the same. Then the count embraced\ +Mavra Kuzminichna and Vasilich, who were to remain in Moscow, and while\ +they caught at his hand and kissed his shoulder he patted their backs\ +lightly with some vaguely affectionate and comforting words. The\ +countess went into the oratory and there Sonya found her on her knees\ +before the icons that had been left here and there hanging on the wall.\ +(The most precious ones, with which some family tradition was connected,\ +were being taken with them.)\ +\ +In the porch and in the yard the men whom Petya had armed with swords\ +and daggers, with trousers tucked inside their high boots and with belts\ +and girdles tightened, were taking leave of those remaining behind.\ +\ +As is always the case at a departure, much had been forgotten or put in\ +the wrong place, and for a long time two menservants stood one on each\ +side of the open door and the carriage steps waiting to help the\ +countess in, while maids rushed with cushions and bundles from the house\ +to the carriages, the caleche, the phaeton, and back again.\ +\ +"They always will forget everything!" said the countess. "Don't you know\ +I can't sit like that?"\ +\ +And Dunyasha, with clenched teeth, without replying but with an\ +aggrieved look on her face, hastily got into the coach to rearrange the\ +seat.\ +\ +"Oh, those servants!" said the count, swaying his head.\ +\ +Efim, the old coachman, who was the only one the countess trusted to\ +drive her, sat perched up high on the box and did not so much as glance\ +round at what was going on behind him. From thirty years' experience he\ +knew it would be some time yet before the order, "Be off, in God's\ +name!" would be given him: and he knew that even when it was said he\ +would be stopped once or twice more while they sent back to fetch\ +something that had been forgotten, and even after that he would again be\ +stopped and the countess herself would lean out of the window and beg\ +him for the love of heaven to drive carefully down the hill. He knew all\ +this and therefore waited calmly for what would happen, with more\ +patience than the horses, especially the near one, the chestnut Falcon,\ +who was pawing the ground and champing his bit. At last all were seated,\ +the carriage steps were folded and pulled up, the door was shut,\ +somebody was sent for a traveling case, and the countess leaned out and\ +said what she had to say. Then Efim deliberately doffed his hat and\ +began crossing himself. The postilion and all the other servants did the\ +same. "Off, in God's name!" said Efim, putting on his hat. "Start!" The\ +postilion started the horses, the off pole horse tugged at his collar,\ +the high springs creaked, and the body of the coach swayed. The footman\ +sprang onto the box of the moving coach which jolted as it passed out of\ +the yard onto the uneven roadway; the other vehicles jolted in their\ +turn, and the procession of carriages moved up the street. In the\ +carriages, the caleche, and the phaeton, all crossed themselves as they\ +passed the church opposite the house. Those who were to remain in Moscow\ +walked on either side of the vehicles seeing the travelers off.\ +\ +Rarely had Natasha experienced so joyful a feeling as now, sitting in\ +the carriage beside the countess and gazing at the slowly receding walls\ +of forsaken, agitated Moscow. Occasionally she leaned out of the\ +carriage window and looked back and then forward at the long train of\ +wounded in front of them. Almost at the head of the line she could see\ +the raised hood of Prince Andrew's caleche. She did not know who was in\ +it, but each time she looked at the procession her eyes sought that\ +caleche. She knew it was right in front.\ +\ +In Kudrino, from the Nikitski, Presnya, and Podnovinsk Streets came\ +several other trains of vehicles similar to the Rostovs', and as they\ +passed along the Sadovaya Street the carriages and carts formed two rows\ +abreast.\ +\ +As they were going round the Sukharev water tower Natasha, who was\ +inquisitively and alertly scrutinizing the people driving or walking\ +past, suddenly cried out in joyful surprise:\ +\ +"Dear me! Mamma, Sonya, look, it's he!"\ +\ +"Who? Who?"\ +\ +"Look! Yes, on my word, it's Bezukhov!" said Natasha, putting her head\ +out of the carriage and staring at a tall, stout man in a coachman's\ +long coat, who from his manner of walking and moving was evidently a\ +gentleman in disguise, and who was passing under the arch of the\ +Sukharev tower accompanied by a small, sallow-faced, beardless old man\ +in a frieze coat.\ +\ +"Yes, it really is Bezukhov in a coachman's coat, with a queer-looking\ +old boy. Really," said Natasha, "look, look!"\ +\ +"No, it's not he. How can you talk such nonsense?"\ +\ +"Mamma," screamed Natasha, "I'll stake my head it's he! I assure you!\ +Stop, stop!" she cried to the coachman.\ +\ +But the coachman could not stop, for from the Meshchanski Street came\ +more carts and carriages, and the Rostovs were being shouted at to move\ +on and not block the way.\ +\ +In fact, however, though now much farther off than before, the Rostovs\ +all saw Pierre--or someone extraordinarily like him--in a coachman's\ +coat, going down the street with head bent and a serious face beside a\ +small, beardless old man who looked like a footman. That old man noticed\ +a face thrust out of the carriage window gazing at them, and\ +respectfully touching Pierre's elbow said something to him and pointed\ +to the carriage. Pierre, evidently engrossed in thought, could not at\ +first understand him. At length when he had understood and looked in the\ +direction the old man indicated, he recognized Natasha, and following\ +his first impulse stepped instantly and rapidly toward the coach. But\ +having taken a dozen steps he seemed to remember something and stopped.\ +\ +Natasha's face, leaning out of the window, beamed with quizzical\ +kindliness.\ +\ +"Peter Kirilovich, come here! We have recognized you! This is\ +wonderful!" she cried, holding out her hand to him. "What are you doing?\ +Why are you like this?"\ +\ +Pierre took her outstretched hand and kissed it awkwardly as he walked\ +along beside her while the coach still moved on.\ +\ +"What is the matter, Count?" asked the countess in a surprised and\ +commiserating tone.\ +\ +"What? What? Why? Don't ask me," said Pierre, and looked round at\ +Natasha whose radiant, happy expression--of which he was conscious\ +without looking at her--filled him with enchantment.\ +\ +"Are you remaining in Moscow, then?"\ +\ +Pierre hesitated.\ +\ +"In Moscow?" he said in a questioning tone. "Yes, in Moscow. Good-bye!"\ +\ +"Ah, if only I were a man! I'd certainly stay with you. How splendid!"\ +said Natasha. "Mamma, if you'll let me, I'll stay!"\ +\ +Pierre glanced absently at Natasha and was about to say something, but\ +the countess interrupted him.\ +\ +"You were at the battle, we heard."\ +\ +"Yes, I was," Pierre answered. "There will be another battle\ +tomorrow..." he began, but Natasha interrupted him.\ +\ +"But what is the matter with you, Count? You are not like yourself...."\ +\ +"Oh, don't ask me, don't ask me! I don't know myself. Tomorrow... But\ +no! Good-bye, good-by!" he muttered. "It's an awful time!" and dropping\ +behind the carriage he stepped onto the pavement.\ +\ +Natasha continued to lean out of the window for a long time, beaming at\ +him with her kindly, slightly quizzical, happy smile.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XVIII\ +\ +For the last two days, ever since leaving home, Pierre had been living\ +in the empty house of his deceased benefactor, Bazdeev. This is how it\ +happened.\ +\ +When he woke up on the morning after his return to Moscow and his\ +interview with Count Rostopchin, he could not for some time make out\ +where he was and what was expected of him. When he was informed that\ +among others awaiting him in his reception room there was a Frenchman\ +who had brought a letter from his wife, the Countess Helene, he felt\ +suddenly overcome by that sense of confusion and hopelessness to which\ +he was apt to succumb. He felt that everything was now at an end, all\ +was in confusion and crumbling to pieces, that nobody was right or\ +wrong, the future held nothing, and there was no escape from this\ +position. Smiling unnaturally and muttering to himself, he first sat\ +down on the sofa in an attitude of despair, then rose, went to the door\ +of the reception room and peeped through the crack, returned flourishing\ +his arms, and took up a book. His major-domo came in a second time to\ +say that the Frenchman who had brought the letter from the countess was\ +very anxious to see him if only for a minute, and that someone from\ +Bazdeev's widow had called to ask Pierre to take charge of her husband's\ +books, as she herself was leaving for the country.\ +\ +"Oh, yes, in a minute; wait... or no! No, of course... go and say I will\ +come directly," Pierre replied to the major-domo.\ +\ +But as soon as the man had left the room Pierre took up his hat which\ +was lying on the table and went out of his study by the other door.\ +There was no one in the passage. He went along the whole length of this\ +passage to the stairs and, frowning and rubbing his forehead with both\ +hands, went down as far as the first landing. The hall porter was\ +standing at the front door. From the landing where Pierre stood there\ +was a second staircase leading to the back entrance. He went down that\ +staircase and out into the yard. No one had seen him. But there were\ +some carriages waiting, and as soon as Pierre stepped out of the gate\ +the coachmen and the yard porter noticed him and raised their caps to\ +him. When he felt he was being looked at he behaved like an ostrich\ +which hides its head in a bush in order not to be seen: he hung his head\ +and quickening his pace went down the street.\ +\ +Of all the affairs awaiting Pierre that day the sorting of Joseph\ +Bazdeev's books and papers appeared to him the most necessary.\ +\ +He hired the first cab he met and told the driver to go to the\ +Patriarch's Ponds, where the widow Bazdeev's house was.\ +\ +Continually turning round to look at the rows of loaded carts that were\ +making their way from all sides out of Moscow, and balancing his bulky\ +body so as not to slip out of the ramshackle old vehicle, Pierre,\ +experiencing the joyful feeling of a boy escaping from school, began to\ +talk to his driver.\ +\ +The man told him that arms were being distributed today at the Kremlin\ +and that tomorrow everyone would be sent out beyond the Three Hills\ +gates and a great battle would be fought there.\ +\ +Having reached the Patriarch's Ponds Pierre found the Bazdeevs' house,\ +where he had not been for a long time past. He went up to the gate.\ +Gerasim, that sallow beardless old man Pierre had seen at Torzhok five\ +years before with Joseph Bazdeev, came out in answer to his knock.\ +\ +"At home?" asked Pierre.\ +\ +"Owing to the present state of things Sophia Danilovna has gone to the\ +Torzhok estate with the children, your excellency."\ +\ +"I will come in all the same, I have to look through the books," said\ +Pierre.\ +\ +"Be so good as to step in. Makar Alexeevich, the brother of my late\ +master--may the kingdom of heaven be his--has remained here, but he is\ +in a weak state as you know," said the old servant.\ +\ +Pierre knew that Makar Alexeevich was Joseph Bazdeev's half-insane\ +brother and a hard drinker.\ +\ +"Yes, yes, I know. Let us go in..." said Pierre and entered the house.\ +\ +A tall, bald-headed old man with a red nose, wearing a dressing gown and\ +with galoshes on his bare feet, stood in the anteroom. On seeing Pierre\ +he muttered something angrily and went away along the passage.\ +\ +"He was a very clever man but has now grown quite feeble, as your honor\ +sees," said Gerasim. "Will you step into the study?" Pierre nodded. "As\ +it was sealed up so it has remained, but Sophia Danilovna gave orders\ +that if anyone should come from you they were to have the books."\ +\ +Pierre went into that gloomy study which he had entered with such\ +trepidation in his benefactor's lifetime. The room, dusty and untouched\ +since the death of Joseph Bazdeev was now even gloomier.\ +\ +Gerasim opened one of the shutters and left the room on tiptoe. Pierre\ +went round the study, approached the cupboard in which the manuscripts\ +were kept, and took out what had once been one of the most important,\ +the holy of holies of the order. This was the authentic Scotch Acts with\ +Bazdeev's notes and explanations. He sat down at the dusty writing\ +table, and, having laid the manuscripts before him, opened them out,\ +closed them, finally pushed them away, and resting his head on his hand\ +sank into meditation.\ +\ +Gerasim looked cautiously into the study several times and saw Pierre\ +always sitting in the same attitude.\ +\ +More than two hours passed and Gerasim took the liberty of making a\ +slight noise at the door to attract his attention, but Pierre did not\ +hear him.\ +\ +"Is the cabman to be discharged, your honor?"\ +\ +"Oh yes!" said Pierre, rousing himself and rising hurriedly. "Look\ +here," he added, taking Gerasim by a button of his coat and looking down\ +at the old man with moist, shining, and ecstatic eyes, "I say, do you\ +know that there is going to be a battle tomorrow?"\ +\ +"We heard so," replied the man.\ +\ +"I beg you not to tell anyone who I am, and to do what I ask you."\ +\ +"Yes, your excellency," replied Gerasim. "Will you have something to\ +eat?"\ +\ +"No, but I want something else. I want peasant clothes and a pistol,"\ +said Pierre, unexpectedly blushing.\ +\ +"Yes, your excellency," said Gerasim after thinking for a moment.\ +\ +All the rest of that day Pierre spent alone in his benefactor's study,\ +and Gerasim heard him pacing restlessly from one corner to another and\ +talking to himself. And he spent the night on a bed made up for him\ +there.\ +\ +Gerasim, being a servant who in his time had seen many strange things,\ +accepted Pierre's taking up his residence in the house without surprise,\ +and seemed pleased to have someone to wait on. That same evening--\ +without even asking himself what they were wanted for--he procured a\ +coachman's coat and cap for Pierre, and promised to get him the pistol\ +next day. Makar Alexeevich came twice that evening shuffling along in\ +his galoshes as far as the door and stopped and looked ingratiatingly at\ +Pierre. But as soon as Pierre turned toward him he wrapped his dressing\ +gown around him with a shamefaced and angry look and hurried away. It\ +was when Pierre (wearing the coachman's coat which Gerasim had procured\ +for him and had disinfected by steam) was on his way with the old man to\ +buy the pistol at the Sukharev market that he met the Rostovs.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XIX\ +\ +Kutuzov's order to retreat through Moscow to the Ryazan road was issued\ +at night on the first of September.\ +\ +The first troops started at once, and during the night they marched\ +slowly and steadily without hurry. At daybreak, however, those nearing\ +the town at the Dorogomilov bridge saw ahead of them masses of soldiers\ +crowding and hurrying across the bridge, ascending on the opposite side\ +and blocking the streets and alleys, while endless masses of troops were\ +bearing down on them from behind, and an unreasoning hurry and alarm\ +overcame them. They all rushed forward to the bridge, onto it, and to\ +the fords and the boats. Kutuzov himself had driven round by side\ +streets to the other side of Moscow.\ +\ +By ten o'clock in the morning of the second of September, only the rear\ +guard remained in the Dorogomilov suburb, where they had ample room. The\ +main army was on the other side of Moscow or beyond it.\ +\ +At that very time, at ten in the morning of the second of September,\ +Napoleon was standing among his troops on the Poklonny Hill looking at\ +the panorama spread out before him. From the twenty-sixth of August to\ +the second of September, that is from the battle of Borodino to the\ +entry of the French into Moscow, during the whole of that agitating,\ +memorable week, there had been the extraordinary autumn weather that\ +always comes as a surprise, when the sun hangs low and gives more heat\ +than in spring, when everything shines so brightly in the rare clear\ +atmosphere that the eyes smart, when the lungs are strengthened and\ +refreshed by inhaling the aromatic autumn air, when even the nights are\ +warm, and when in those dark warm nights, golden stars startle and\ +delight us continually by falling from the sky.\ +\ +At ten in the morning of the second of September this weather still\ +held.\ +\ +The brightness of the morning was magical. Moscow seen from the Poklonny\ +Hill lay spaciously spread out with her river, her gardens, and her\ +churches, and she seemed to be living her usual life, her cupolas\ +glittering like stars in the sunlight.\ +\ +The view of the strange city with its peculiar architecture, such as he\ +had never seen before, filled Napoleon with the rather envious and\ +uneasy curiosity men feel when they see an alien form of life that has\ +no knowledge of them. This city was evidently living with the full force\ +of its own life. By the indefinite signs which, even at a distance,\ +distinguish a living body from a dead one, Napoleon from the Poklonny\ +Hill perceived the throb of life in the town and felt, as it were, the\ +breathing of that great and beautiful body.\ +\ +Every Russian looking at Moscow feels her to be a mother; every\ +foreigner who sees her, even if ignorant of her significance as the\ +mother city, must feel her feminine character, and Napoleon felt it.\ +\ +"Cette ville asiatique aux innombrables eglises, Moscou la sainte. La\ +voila done enfin, cette fameuse ville! Il etait temps," * said he, and\ +dismounting he ordered a plan of Moscow to be spread out before him, and\ +summoned Lelorgne d'Ideville, the interpreter.\ +\ +\ +* "That Asiatic city of the innumerable churches, holy Moscow! Here it\ +is then at last, that famous city. It was high time."\ +\ +"A town captured by the enemy is like a maid who has lost her honor,"\ +thought he (he had said so to Tuchkov at Smolensk). From that point of\ +view he gazed at the Oriental beauty he had not seen before. It seemed\ +strange to him that his long-felt wish, which had seemed unattainable,\ +had at last been realized. In the clear morning light he gazed now at\ +the city and now at the plan, considering its details, and the assurance\ +of possessing it agitated and awed him.\ +\ +"But could it be otherwise?" he thought. "Here is this capital at my\ +feet. Where is Alexander now, and of what is he thinking? A strange,\ +beautiful, and majestic city; and a strange and majestic moment! In what\ +light must I appear to them!" thought he, thinking of his troops. "Here\ +she is, the reward for all those fainthearted men," he reflected,\ +glancing at those near him and at the troops who were approaching and\ +forming up. "One word from me, one movement of my hand, and that ancient\ +capital of the Tsars would perish. But my clemency is always ready to\ +descend upon the vanquished. I must be magnanimous and truly great. But\ +no, it can't be true that I am in Moscow," he suddenly thought. "Yet\ +here she is lying at my feet, with her golden domes and crosses\ +scintillating and twinkling in the sunshine. But I shall spare her. On\ +the ancient monuments of barbarism and despotism I will inscribe great\ +words of justice and mercy.... It is just this which Alexander will feel\ +most painfully, I know him." (It seemed to Napoleon that the chief\ +import of what was taking place lay in the personal struggle between\ +himself and Alexander.) "From the height of the Kremlin--yes, there is\ +the Kremlin, yes--I will give them just laws; I will teach them the\ +meaning of true civilization, I will make generations of boyars remember\ +their conqueror with love. I will tell the deputation that I did not,\ +and do not, desire war, that I have waged war only against the false\ +policy of their court; that I love and respect Alexander and that in\ +Moscow I will accept terms of peace worthy of myself and of my people. I\ +do not wish to utilize the fortunes of war to humiliate an honored\ +monarch. 'Boyars,' I will say to them, 'I do not desire war, I desire\ +the peace and welfare of all my subjects.' However, I know their\ +presence will inspire me, and I shall speak to them as I always do:\ +clearly, impressively, and majestically. But can it be true that I am in\ +Moscow? Yes, there she lies."\ +\ +"Qu'on m'amene les boyars," * said he to his suite.\ +\ +\ +* "Bring the boyars to me."\ +\ +A general with a brilliant suite galloped off at once to fetch the\ +boyars.\ +\ +Two hours passed. Napoleon had lunched and was again standing in the\ +same place on the Poklonny Hill awaiting the deputation. His speech to\ +the boyars had already taken definite shape in his imagination. That\ +speech was full of dignity and greatness as Napoleon understood it.\ +\ +He was himself carried away by the tone of magnanimity he intended to\ +adopt toward Moscow. In his imagination he appointed days for assemblies\ +at the palace of the Tsars, at which Russian notables and his own would\ +mingle. He mentally appointed a governor, one who would win the hearts\ +of the people. Having learned that there were many charitable\ +institutions in Moscow he mentally decided that he would shower favors\ +on them all. He thought that, as in Africa he had to put on a burnoose\ +and sit in a mosque, so in Moscow he must be beneficent like the Tsars.\ +And in order finally to touch the hearts of the Russians--and being like\ +all Frenchmen unable to imagine anything sentimental without a reference\ +to ma chere, ma tendre, ma pauvre mere * --he decided that he would\ +place an inscription on all these establishments in large letters: "This\ +establishment is dedicated to my dear mother." Or no, it should be\ +simply: Maison de ma Mere, *(2) he concluded. "But am I really in\ +Moscow? Yes, here it lies before me, but why is the deputation from the\ +city so long in appearing?" he wondered.\ +\ +\ +* "My dear, my tender, my poor mother."\ +\ +* (2) "House of my Mother."\ +\ +Meanwhile an agitated consultation was being carried on in whispers\ +among his generals and marshals at the rear of his suite. Those sent to\ +fetch the deputation had returned with the news that Moscow was empty,\ +that everyone had left it. The faces of those who were not conferring\ +together were pale and perturbed. They were not alarmed by the fact that\ +Moscow had been abandoned by its inhabitants (grave as that fact\ +seemed), but by the question how to tell the Emperor--without putting\ +him in the terrible position of appearing ridiculous--that he had been\ +awaiting the boyars so long in vain: that there were drunken mobs left\ +in Moscow but no one else. Some said that a deputation of some sort must\ +be scraped together, others disputed that opinion and maintained that\ +the Emperor should first be carefully and skillfully prepared, and then\ +told the truth.\ +\ +"He will have to be told, all the same," said some gentlemen of the\ +suite. "But, gentlemen..."\ +\ +The position was the more awkward because the Emperor, meditating upon\ +his magnanimous plans, was pacing patiently up and down before the\ +outspread map, occasionally glancing along the road to Moscow from under\ +his lifted hand with a bright and proud smile.\ +\ +"But it's impossible..." declared the gentlemen of the suite, shrugging\ +their shoulders but not venturing to utter the implied word--le\ +ridicule...\ +\ +At last the Emperor, tired of futile expectation, his actor's instinct\ +suggesting to him that the sublime moment having been too long drawn out\ +was beginning to lose its sublimity, gave a sign with his hand. A single\ +report of a signaling gun followed, and the troops, who were already\ +spread out on different sides of Moscow, moved into the city through\ +Tver, Kaluga, and Dorogomilov gates. Faster and faster, vying with one\ +another, they moved at the double or at a trot, vanishing amid the\ +clouds of dust they raised and making the air ring with a deafening roar\ +of mingling shouts.\ +\ +Drawn on by the movement of his troops Napoleon rode with them as far as\ +the Dorogomilov gate, but there again stopped and, dismounting from his\ +horse, paced for a long time by the Kammer-Kollezski rampart, awaiting\ +the deputation.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XX\ +\ +Meanwhile Moscow was empty. There were still people in it, perhaps a\ +fiftieth part of its former inhabitants had remained, but it was empty.\ +It was empty in the sense that a dying queenless hive is empty.\ +\ +In a queenless hive no life is left though to a superficial glance it\ +seems as much alive as other hives.\ +\ +The bees circle round a queenless hive in the hot beams of the midday\ +sun as gaily as around the living hives; from a distance it smells of\ +honey like the others, and bees fly in and out in the same way. But one\ +has only to observe that hive to realize that there is no longer any\ +life in it. The bees do not fly in the same way, the smell and the sound\ +that meet the beekeeper are not the same. To the beekeeper's tap on the\ +wall of the sick hive, instead of the former instant unanimous humming\ +of tens of thousands of bees with their abdomens threateningly\ +compressed, and producing by the rapid vibration of their wings an\ +aerial living sound, the only reply is a disconnected buzzing from\ +different parts of the deserted hive. From the alighting board, instead\ +of the former spirituous fragrant smell of honey and venom, and the warm\ +whiffs of crowded life, comes an odor of emptiness and decay mingling\ +with the smell of honey. There are no longer sentinels sounding the\ +alarm with their abdomens raised, and ready to die in defense of the\ +hive. There is no longer the measured quiet sound of throbbing activity,\ +like the sound of boiling water, but diverse discordant sounds of\ +disorder. In and out of the hive long black robber bees smeared with\ +honey fly timidly and shiftily. They do not sting, but crawl away from\ +danger. Formerly only bees laden with honey flew into the hive, and they\ +flew out empty; now they fly out laden. The beekeeper opens the lower\ +part of the hive and peers in. Instead of black, glossy bees--tamed by\ +toil, clinging to one another's legs and drawing out the wax, with a\ +ceaseless hum of labor--that used to hang in long clusters down to the\ +floor of the hive, drowsy shriveled bees crawl about separately in\ +various directions on the floor and walls of the hive. Instead of a\ +neatly glued floor, swept by the bees with the fanning of their wings,\ +there is a floor littered with bits of wax, excrement, dying bees\ +scarcely moving their legs, and dead ones that have not been cleared\ +away.\ +\ +The beekeeper opens the upper part of the hive and examines the super.\ +Instead of serried rows of bees sealing up every gap in the combs and\ +keeping the brood warm, he sees the skillful complex structures of the\ +combs, but no longer in their former state of purity. All is neglected\ +and foul. Black robber bees are swiftly and stealthily prowling about\ +the combs, and the short home bees, shriveled and listless as if they\ +were old, creep slowly about without trying to hinder the robbers,\ +having lost all motive and all sense of life. Drones, bumblebees, wasps,\ +and butterflies knock awkwardly against the walls of the hive in their\ +flight. Here and there among the cells containing dead brood and honey\ +an angry buzzing can sometimes be heard. Here and there a couple of\ +bees, by force of habit and custom cleaning out the brood cells, with\ +efforts beyond their strength laboriously drag away a dead bee or\ +bumblebee without knowing why they do it. In another corner two old bees\ +are languidly fighting, or cleaning themselves, or feeding one another,\ +without themselves knowing whether they do it with friendly or hostile\ +intent. In a third place a crowd of bees, crushing one another, attack\ +some victim and fight and smother it, and the victim, enfeebled or\ +killed, drops from above slowly and lightly as a feather, among the heap\ +of corpses. The keeper opens the two center partitions to examine the\ +brood cells. In place of the former close dark circles formed by\ +thousands of bees sitting back to back and guarding the high mystery of\ +generation, he sees hundreds of dull, listless, and sleepy shells of\ +bees. They have almost all died unawares, sitting in the sanctuary they\ +had guarded and which is now no more. They reek of decay and death. Only\ +a few of them still move, rise, and feebly fly to settle on the enemy's\ +hand, lacking the spirit to die stinging him; the rest are dead and fall\ +as lightly as fish scales. The beekeeper closes the hive, chalks a mark\ +on it, and when he has time tears out its contents and burns it clean.\ +\ +So in the same way Moscow was empty when Napoleon, weary, uneasy, and\ +morose, paced up and down in front of the Kammer-Kollezski rampart,\ +awaiting what to his mind was a necessary, if but formal, observance of\ +the proprieties--a deputation.\ +\ +In various corners of Moscow there still remained a few people aimlessly\ +moving about, following their old habits and hardly aware of what they\ +were doing.\ +\ +When with due circumspection Napoleon was informed that Moscow was\ +empty, he looked angrily at his informant, turned away, and silently\ +continued to walk to and fro.\ +\ +"My carriage!" he said.\ +\ +He took his seat beside the aide-de-camp on duty and drove into the\ +suburb. "Moscow deserted!" he said to himself. "What an incredible\ +event!"\ +\ +He did not drive into the town, but put up at an inn in the Dorogomilov\ +suburb.\ +\ +The coup de theatre had not come off.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XXI\ +\ +The Russian troops were passing through Moscow from two o'clock at night\ +till two in the afternoon and bore away with them the wounded and the\ +last of the inhabitants who were leaving.\ +\ +The greatest crush during the movement of the troops took place at the\ +Stone, Moskva, and Yauza bridges.\ +\ +While the troops, dividing into two parts when passing around the\ +Kremlin, were thronging the Moskva and the Stone bridges, a great many\ +soldiers, taking advantage of the stoppage and congestion, turned back\ +from the bridges and slipped stealthily and silently past the church of\ +Vasili the Beatified and under the Borovitski gate, back up the hill to\ +the Red Square where some instinct told them they could easily take\ +things not belonging to them. Crowds of the kind seen at cheap sales\ +filled all the passages and alleys of the Bazaar. But there were no\ +dealers with voices of ingratiating affability inviting customers to\ +enter; there were no hawkers, nor the usual motley crowd of female\ +purchasers--but only soldiers, in uniforms and overcoats though without\ +muskets, entering the Bazaar empty-handed and silently making their way\ +out through its passages with bundles. Tradesmen and their assistants\ +(of whom there were but few) moved about among the soldiers quite\ +bewildered. They unlocked their shops and locked them up again, and\ +themselves carried goods away with the help of their assistants. On the\ +square in front of the Bazaar were drummers beating the muster call. But\ +the roll of the drums did not make the looting soldiers run in the\ +direction of the drum as formerly, but made them, on the contrary, run\ +farther away. Among the soldiers in the shops and passages some men were\ +to be seen in gray coats, with closely shaven heads. Two officers, one\ +with a scarf over his uniform and mounted on a lean, dark-gray horse,\ +the other in an overcoat and on foot, stood at the corner of Ilyinka\ +Street, talking. A third officer galloped up to them.\ +\ +"The general orders them all to be driven out at once, without fail.\ +This is outrageous! Half the men have dispersed."\ +\ +"Where are you off to?... Where?..." he shouted to three infantrymen\ +without muskets who, holding up the skirts of their overcoats, were\ +slipping past him into the Bazaar passage. "Stop, you rascals!"\ +\ +"But how are you going to stop them?" replied another officer. "There is\ +no getting them together. The army should push on before the rest bolt,\ +that's all!"\ +\ +"How can one push on? They are stuck there, wedged on the bridge, and\ +don't move. Shouldn't we put a cordon round to prevent the rest from\ +running away?"\ +\ +"Come, go in there and drive them out!" shouted the senior officer.\ +\ +The officer in the scarf dismounted, called up a drummer, and went with\ +him into the arcade. Some soldiers started running away in a group. A\ +shopkeeper with red pimples on his cheeks near the nose, and a calm,\ +persistent, calculating expression on his plump face, hurriedly and\ +ostentatiously approached the officer, swinging his arms.\ +\ +"Your honor!" said he. "Be so good as to protect us! We won't grudge\ +trifles, you are welcome to anything--we shall be delighted! Pray!...\ +I'll fetch a piece of cloth at once for such an honorable gentleman, or\ +even two pieces with pleasure. For we feel how it is; but what's all\ +this--sheer robbery! If you please, could not guards be placed if only\ +to let us close the shop...."\ +\ +Several shopkeepers crowded round the officer.\ +\ +"Eh, what twaddle!" said one of them, a thin, stern-looking man. "When\ +one's head is gone one doesn't weep for one's hair! Take what any of you\ +like!" And flourishing his arm energetically he turned sideways to the\ +officer.\ +\ +"It's all very well for you, Ivan Sidorych, to talk," said the first\ +tradesman angrily. "Please step inside, your honor!"\ +\ +"Talk indeed!" cried the thin one. "In my three shops here I have a\ +hundred thousand rubles' worth of goods. Can they be saved when the army\ +has gone? Eh, what people! 'Against God's might our hands can't fight.'"\ +\ +"Come inside, your honor!" repeated the tradesman, bowing.\ +\ +The officer stood perplexed and his face showed indecision.\ +\ +"It's not my business!" he exclaimed, and strode on quickly down one of\ +the passages.\ +\ +From one open shop came the sound of blows and vituperation, and just as\ +the officer came up to it a man in a gray coat with a shaven head was\ +flung out violently.\ +\ +This man, bent double, rushed past the tradesman and the officer. The\ +officer pounced on the soldiers who were in the shops, but at that\ +moment fearful screams reached them from the huge crowd on the Moskva\ +bridge and the officer ran out into the square.\ +\ +"What is it? What is it?" he asked, but his comrade was already\ +galloping off past Vasili the Beatified in the direction from which the\ +screams came.\ +\ +The officer mounted his horse and rode after him. When he reached the\ +bridge he saw two unlimbered guns, the infantry crossing the bridge,\ +several overturned carts, and frightened and laughing faces among the\ +troops. Beside the cannon a cart was standing to which two horses were\ +harnessed. Four borzois with collars were pressing close to the wheels.\ +The cart was loaded high, and at the very top, beside a child's chair\ +with its legs in the air, sat a peasant woman uttering piercing and\ +desperate shrieks. He was told by his fellow officers that the screams\ +of the crowd and the shrieks of the woman were due to the fact that\ +General Ermolov, coming up to the crowd and learning that soldiers were\ +dispersing among the shops while crowds of civilians blocked the bridge,\ +had ordered two guns to be unlimbered and made a show of firing at the\ +bridge. The crowd, crushing one another, upsetting carts, and shouting\ +and squeezing desperately, had cleared off the bridge and the troops\ +were now moving forward.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XXII\ +\ +Meanwhile, the city itself was deserted. There was hardly anyone in the\ +streets. The gates and shops were all closed, only here and there round\ +the taverns solitary shouts or drunken songs could be heard. Nobody\ +drove through the streets and footsteps were rarely heard. The\ +Povarskaya was quite still and deserted. The huge courtyard of the\ +Rostovs' house was littered with wisps of hay and with dung from the\ +horses, and not a soul was to be seen there. In the great drawing room\ +of the house, which had been left with all it contained, were two\ +people. They were the yard porter Ignat, and the page boy Mishka,\ +Vasilich's grandson who had stayed in Moscow with his grandfather.\ +Mishka had opened the clavichord and was strumming on it with one\ +finger. The yard porter, his arms akimbo, stood smiling with\ +satisfaction before the large mirror.\ +\ +"Isn't it fine, eh, Uncle Ignat?" said the boy, suddenly beginning to\ +strike the keyboard with both hands.\ +\ +"Only fancy!" answered Ignat, surprised at the broadening grin on his\ +face in the mirror.\ +\ +"Impudence! Impudence!" they heard behind them the voice of Mavra\ +Kuzminichna who had entered silently. "How he's grinning, the fat mug!\ +Is that what you're here for? Nothing's cleared away down there and\ +Vasilich is worn out. Just you wait a bit!"\ +\ +Ignat left off smiling, adjusted his belt, and went out of the room with\ +meekly downcast eyes.\ +\ +"Aunt, I did it gently," said the boy.\ +\ +"I'll give you something gently, you monkey you!" cried Mavra\ +Kuzminichna, raising her arm threateningly. "Go and get the samovar to\ +boil for your grandfather."\ +\ +Mavra Kuzminichna flicked the dust off the clavichord and closed it, and\ +with a deep sigh left the drawing room and locked its main door.\ +\ +Going out into the yard she paused to consider where she should go next-\ +-to drink tea in the servants' wing with Vasilich, or into the storeroom\ +to put away what still lay about.\ +\ +She heard the sound of quick footsteps in the quiet street. Someone\ +stopped at the gate, and the latch rattled as someone tried to open it.\ +Mavra Kuzminichna went to the gate.\ +\ +"Who do you want?"\ +\ +"The count--Count Ilya Andreevich Rostov."\ +\ +"And who are you?"\ +\ +"An officer, I have to see him," came the reply in a pleasant, well-bred\ +Russian voice.\ +\ +Mavra Kuzminichna opened the gate and an officer of eighteen, with the\ +round face of a Rostov, entered the yard.\ +\ +"They have gone away, sir. Went away yesterday at vespertime," said\ +Mavra Kuzminichna cordially.\ +\ +The young officer standing in the gateway, as if hesitating whether to\ +enter or not, clicked his tongue.\ +\ +"Ah, how annoying!" he muttered. "I should have come yesterday.... Ah,\ +what a pity."\ +\ +Meanwhile, Mavra Kuzminichna was attentively and sympathetically\ +examining the familiar Rostov features of the young man's face, his\ +tattered coat and trodden-down boots.\ +\ +"What did you want to see the count for?" she asked.\ +\ +"Oh well... it can't be helped!" said he in a tone of vexation and\ +placed his hand on the gate as if to leave.\ +\ +He again paused in indecision.\ +\ +"You see," he suddenly said, "I am a kinsman of the count's and he has\ +been very kind to me. As you see" (he glanced with an amused air and\ +good-natured smile at his coat and boots) "my things are worn out and I\ +have no money, so I was going to ask the count..."\ +\ +Mavra Kuzminichna did not let him finish.\ +\ +"Just wait a minute, sir. One little moment," said she.\ +\ +And as soon as the officer let go of the gate handle she turned and,\ +hurrying away on her old legs, went through the back yard to the\ +servants' quarters.\ +\ +While Mavra Kuzminichna was running to her room the officer walked about\ +the yard gazing at his worn-out boots with lowered head and a faint\ +smile on his lips. "What a pity I've missed Uncle! What a nice old\ +woman! Where has she run off to? And how am I to find the nearest way to\ +overtake my regiment, which must by now be getting near the Rogozhski\ +gate?" thought he. Just then Mavra Kuzminichna appeared from behind the\ +corner of the house with a frightened yet resolute look, carrying a\ +rolled-up check kerchief in her hand. While still a few steps from the\ +officer she unfolded the kerchief and took out of it a white twenty-\ +five-ruble assignat and hastily handed it to him.\ +\ +"If his excellency had been at home, as a kinsman he would of course...\ +but as it is..."\ +\ +Mavra Kuzminichna grew abashed and confused. The officer did not\ +decline, but took the note quietly and thanked her.\ +\ +"If the count had been at home..." Mavra Kuzminichna went on\ +apologetically. "Christ be with you, sir! May God preserve you!" said\ +she, bowing as she saw him out.\ +\ +Swaying his head and smiling as if amused at himself, the officer ran\ +almost at a trot through the deserted streets toward the Yauza bridge to\ +overtake his regiment.\ +\ +But Mavra Kuzminichna stood at the closed gate for some time with moist\ +eyes, pensively swaying her head and feeling an unexpected flow of\ +motherly tenderness and pity for the unknown young officer.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XXIII\ +\ +From an unfinished house on the Varvarka, the ground floor of which was\ +a dramshop, came drunken shouts and songs. On benches round the tables\ +in a dirty little room sat some ten factory hands. Tipsy and perspiring,\ +with dim eyes and wide-open mouths, they were all laboriously singing\ +some song or other. They were singing discordantly, arduously, and with\ +great effort, evidently not because they wished to sing, but because\ +they wanted to show they were drunk and on a spree. One, a tall, fair-\ +haired lad in a clean blue coat, was standing over the others. His face\ +with its fine straight nose would have been handsome had it not been for\ +his thin, compressed, twitching lips and dull, gloomy, fixed eyes.\ +Evidently possessed by some idea, he stood over those who were singing,\ +and solemnly and jerkily flourished above their heads his white arm with\ +the sleeve turned up to the elbow, trying unnaturally to spread out his\ +dirty fingers. The sleeve of his coat kept slipping down and he always\ +carefully rolled it up again with his left hand, as if it were most\ +important that the sinewy white arm he was flourishing should be bare.\ +In the midst of the song cries were heard, and fighting and blows in the\ +passage and porch. The tall lad waved his arm.\ +\ +"Stop it!" he exclaimed peremptorily. "There's a fight, lads!" And,\ +still rolling up his sleeve, he went out to the porch.\ +\ +The factory hands followed him. These men, who under the leadership of\ +the tall lad were drinking in the dramshop that morning, had brought the\ +publican some skins from the factory and for this had had drink served\ +them. The blacksmiths from a neighboring smithy, hearing the sounds of\ +revelry in the tavern and supposing it to have been broken into, wished\ +to force their way in too and a fight in the porch had resulted.\ +\ +The publican was fighting one of the smiths at the door, and when the\ +workmen came out the smith, wrenching himself free from the tavern\ +keeper, fell face downward on the pavement.\ +\ +Another smith tried to enter the doorway, pressing against the publican\ +with his chest.\ +\ +The lad with the turned-up sleeve gave the smith a blow in the face and\ +cried wildly: "They're fighting us, lads!"\ +\ +At that moment the first smith got up and, scratching his bruised face\ +to make it bleed, shouted in a tearful voice: "Police! Murder!...\ +They've killed a man, lads!"\ +\ +"Oh, gracious me, a man beaten to death--killed!..." screamed a woman\ +coming out of a gate close by.\ +\ +A crowd gathered round the bloodstained smith.\ +\ +"Haven't you robbed people enough--taking their last shirts?" said a\ +voice addressing the publican. "What have you killed a man for, you\ +thief?"\ +\ +The tall lad, standing in the porch, turned his bleared eyes from the\ +publican to the smith and back again as if considering whom he ought to\ +fight now.\ +\ +"Murderer!" he shouted suddenly to the publican. "Bind him, lads!"\ +\ +"I daresay you would like to bind me!" shouted the publican, pushing\ +away the men advancing on him, and snatching his cap from his head he\ +flung it on the ground.\ +\ +As if this action had some mysterious and menacing significance, the\ +workmen surrounding the publican paused in indecision.\ +\ +"I know the law very well, mates! I'll take the matter to the captain of\ +police. You think I won't get to him? Robbery is not permitted to\ +anybody now a days!" shouted the publican, picking up his cap.\ +\ +"Come along then! Come along then!" the publican and the tall young\ +fellow repeated one after the other, and they moved up the street\ +together.\ +\ +The bloodstained smith went beside them. The factory hands and others\ +followed behind, talking and shouting.\ +\ +At the corner of the Moroseyka, opposite a large house with closed\ +shutters and bearing a bootmaker's signboard, stood a score of thin,\ +worn-out, gloomy-faced bootmakers, wearing overalls and long tattered\ +coats.\ +\ +"He should pay folks off properly," a thin workingman, with frowning\ +brows and a straggly beard, was saying.\ +\ +"But he's sucked our blood and now he thinks he's quit of us. He's been\ +misleading us all the week and now that he's brought us to this pass\ +he's made off."\ +\ +On seeing the crowd and the bloodstained man the workman ceased\ +speaking, and with eager curiosity all the bootmakers joined the moving\ +crowd.\ +\ +"Where are all the folks going?"\ +\ +"Why, to the police, of course!"\ +\ +"I say, is it true that we have been beaten?" "And what did you think?\ +Look what folks are saying."\ +\ +Questions and answers were heard. The publican, taking advantage of the\ +increased crowd, dropped behind and returned to his tavern.\ +\ +The tall youth, not noticing the disappearance of his foe, waved his\ +bare arm and went on talking incessantly, attracting general attention\ +to himself. It was around him that the people chiefly crowded, expecting\ +answers from him to the questions that occupied all their minds.\ +\ +"He must keep order, keep the law, that's what the government is there\ +for. Am I not right, good Christians?" said the tall youth, with a\ +scarcely perceptible smile. "He thinks there's no government! How can\ +one do without government? Or else there would be plenty who'd rob us."\ +\ +"Why talk nonsense?" rejoined voices in the crowd. "Will they give up\ +Moscow like this? They told you that for fun, and you believed it!\ +Aren't there plenty of troops on the march? Let him in, indeed! That's\ +what the government is for. You'd better listen to what people are\ +saying," said some of the mob pointing to the tall youth.\ +\ +By the wall of China-Town a smaller group of people were gathered round\ +a man in a frieze coat who held a paper in his hand.\ +\ +"An ukase, they are reading an ukase! Reading an ukase!" cried voices in\ +the crowd, and the people rushed toward the reader.\ +\ +The man in the frieze coat was reading the broadsheet of August 31. When\ +the crowd collected round him he seemed confused, but at the demand of\ +the tall lad who had pushed his way up to him, he began in a rather\ +tremulous voice to read the sheet from the beginning.\ +\ +"Early tomorrow I shall go to his Serene Highness," he read ("Sirin\ +Highness," said the tall fellow with a triumphant smile on his lips and\ +a frown on his brow), "to consult with him to act, and to aid the army\ +to exterminate these scoundrels. We too will take part..." the reader\ +went on, and then paused ("Do you see," shouted the youth victoriously,\ +"he's going to clear up the whole affair for you...."), "in destroying\ +them, and will send these visitors to the devil. I will come back to\ +dinner, and we'll set to work. We will do, completely do, and undo these\ +scoundrels."\ +\ +The last words were read out in the midst of complete silence. The tall\ +lad hung his head gloomily. It was evident that no one had understood\ +the last part. In particular, the words "I will come back to dinner,"\ +evidently displeased both reader and audience. The people's minds were\ +tuned to a high pitch and this was too simple and needlessly\ +comprehensible--it was what any one of them might have said and\ +therefore was what an ukase emanating from the highest authority should\ +not say.\ +\ +They all stood despondent and silent. The tall youth moved his lips and\ +swayed from side to side.\ +\ +"We should ask him... that's he himself?"... "Yes, ask him indeed!...\ +Why not? He'll explain"... voices in the rear of the crowd were suddenly\ +heard saying, and the general attention turned to the police\ +superintendent's trap which drove into the square attended by two\ +mounted dragoons.\ +\ +The superintendent of police, who had gone that morning by Count\ +Rostopchin's orders to burn the barges and had in connection with that\ +matter acquired a large sum of money which was at that moment in his\ +pocket, on seeing a crowd bearing down upon him told his coachman to\ +stop.\ +\ +"What people are these?" he shouted to the men, who were moving singly\ +and timidly in the direction of his trap.\ +\ +"What people are these?" he shouted again, receiving no answer.\ +\ +"Your honor..." replied the shopman in the frieze coat, "your honor, in\ +accord with the proclamation of his highest excellency the count, they\ +desire to serve, not sparing their lives, and it is not any kind of\ +riot, but as his highest excellence said..."\ +\ +"The count has not left, he is here, and an order will be issued\ +concerning you," said the superintendent of police. "Go on!" he ordered\ +his coachman.\ +\ +The crowd halted, pressing around those who had heard what the\ +superintendent had said, and looking at the departing trap.\ +\ +The superintendent of police turned round at that moment with a scared\ +look, said something to his coachman, and his horses increased their\ +speed.\ +\ +"It's a fraud, lads! Lead the way to him, himself!" shouted the tall\ +youth. "Don't let him go, lads! Let him answer us! Keep him!" shouted\ +different people and the people dashed in pursuit of the trap.\ +\ +Following the superintendent of police and talking loudly the crowd went\ +in the direction of the Lubyanka Street.\ +\ +"There now, the gentry and merchants have gone away and left us to\ +perish. Do they think we're dogs?" voices in the crowd were heard saying\ +more and more frequently.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XXIV\ +\ +On the evening of the first of September, after his interview with\ +Kutuzov, Count Rostopchin had returned to Moscow mortified and offended\ +because he had not been invited to attend the council of war, and\ +because Kutuzov had paid no attention to his offer to take part in the\ +defense of the city; amazed also at the novel outlook revealed to him at\ +the camp, which treated the tranquillity of the capital and its\ +patriotic fervor as not merely secondary but quite irrelevant and\ +unimportant matters. Distressed, offended, and surprised by all this,\ +Rostopchin had returned to Moscow. After supper he lay down on a sofa\ +without undressing, and was awakened soon after midnight by a courier\ +bringing him a letter from Kutuzov. This letter requested the count to\ +send police officers to guide the troops through the town, as the army\ +was retreating to the Ryazan road beyond Moscow. This was not news to\ +Rostopchin. He had known that Moscow would be abandoned not merely since\ +his interview the previous day with Kutuzov on the Poklonny Hill but\ +ever since the battle of Borodino, for all the generals who came to\ +Moscow after that battle had said unanimously that it was impossible to\ +fight another battle, and since then the government property had been\ +removed every night, and half the inhabitants had left the city with\ +Rostopchin's own permission. Yet all the same this information\ +astonished and irritated the count, coming as it did in the form of a\ +simple note with an order from Kutuzov, and received at night, breaking\ +in on his beauty sleep.\ +\ +When later on in his memoirs Count Rostopchin explained his actions at\ +this time, he repeatedly says that he was then actuated by two important\ +considerations: to maintain tranquillity in Moscow and expedite the\ +departure of the inhabitants. If one accepts this twofold aim all\ +Rostopchin's actions appear irreproachable. "Why were the holy relics,\ +the arms, ammunition, gunpowder, and stores of corn not removed? Why\ +were thousands of inhabitants deceived into believing that Moscow would\ +not be given up--and thereby ruined?" "To preserve the tranquillity of\ +the city," explains Count Rostopchin. "Why were bundles of useless\ +papers from the government offices, and Leppich's balloon and other\ +articles removed?" "To leave the town empty," explains Count Rostopchin.\ +One need only admit that public tranquillity is in danger and any action\ +finds a justification.\ +\ +All the horrors of the reign of terror were based only on solicitude for\ +public tranquillity.\ +\ +On what, then, was Count Rostopchin's fear for the tranquillity of\ +Moscow based in 1812? What reason was there for assuming any probability\ +of an uprising in the city? The inhabitants were leaving it and the\ +retreating troops were filling it. Why should that cause the masses to\ +riot?\ +\ +Neither in Moscow nor anywhere in Russia did anything resembling an\ +insurrection ever occur when the enemy entered a town. More than ten\ +thousand people were still in Moscow on the first and second of\ +September, and except for a mob in the governor's courtyard, assembled\ +there at his bidding, nothing happened. It is obvious that there would\ +have been even less reason to expect a disturbance among the people if\ +after the battle of Borodino, when the surrender of Moscow became\ +certain or at least probable, Rostopchin instead of exciting the people\ +by distributing arms and broadsheets had taken steps to remove all the\ +holy relics, the gunpowder, munitions, and money, and had told the\ +population plainly that the town would be abandoned.\ +\ +Rostopchin, though he had patriotic sentiments, was a sanguine and\ +impulsive man who had always moved in the highest administrative circles\ +and had no understanding at all of the people he supposed himself to be\ +guiding. Ever since the enemy's entry into Smolensk he had in\ +imagination been playing the role of director of the popular feeling of\ +"the heart of Russia." Not only did it seem to him (as to all\ +administrators) that he controlled the external actions of Moscow's\ +inhabitants, but he also thought he controlled their mental attitude by\ +means of his broadsheets and posters, written in a coarse tone which the\ +people despise in their own class and do not understand from those in\ +authority. Rostopchin was so pleased with the fine role of leader of\ +popular feeling, and had grown so used to it, that the necessity of\ +relinquishing that role and abandoning Moscow without any heroic display\ +took him unawares and he suddenly felt the ground slip away from under\ +his feet, so that he positively did not know what to do. Though he knew\ +it was coming, he did not till the last moment wholeheartedly believe\ +that Moscow would be abandoned, and did not prepare for it. The\ +inhabitants left against his wishes. If the government offices were\ +removed, this was only done on the demand of officials to whom the count\ +yielded reluctantly. He was absorbed in the role he had created for\ +himself. As is often the case with those gifted with an ardent\ +imagination, though he had long known that Moscow would be abandoned he\ +knew it only with his intellect, he did not believe it in his heart and\ +did not adapt himself mentally to this new position of affairs.\ +\ +All his painstaking and energetic activity (in how far it was useful and\ +had any effect on the people is another question) had been simply\ +directed toward arousing in the masses his own feeling of patriotic\ +hatred of the French.\ +\ +But when events assumed their true historical character, when expressing\ +hatred for the French in words proved insufficient, when it was not even\ +possible to express that hatred by fighting a battle, when self-\ +confidence was of no avail in relation to the one question before\ +Moscow, when the whole population streamed out of Moscow as one man,\ +abandoning their belongings and proving by that negative action all the\ +depth of their national feeling, then the role chosen by Rostopchin\ +suddenly appeared senseless. He unexpectedly felt himself ridiculous,\ +weak, and alone, with no ground to stand on.\ +\ +When, awakened from his sleep, he received that cold, peremptory note\ +from Kutuzov, he felt the more irritated the more he felt himself to\ +blame. All that he had been specially put in charge of, the state\ +property which he should have removed, was still in Moscow and it was no\ +longer possible to take the whole of it away.\ +\ +"Who is to blame for it? Who has let things come to such a pass?" he\ +ruminated. "Not I, of course. I had everything ready. I had Moscow\ +firmly in hand. And this is what they have let it come to! Villains!\ +Traitors!" he thought, without clearly defining who the villains and\ +traitors were, but feeling it necessary to hate those traitors whoever\ +they might be who were to blame for the false and ridiculous position in\ +which he found himself.\ +\ +All that night Count Rostopchin issued orders, for which people came to\ +him from all parts of Moscow. Those about him had never seen the count\ +so morose and irritable.\ +\ +"Your excellency, the Director of the Registrar's Department has sent\ +for instructions... From the Consistory, from the Senate, from the\ +University, from the Foundling Hospital, the Suffragan has sent...\ +asking for information.... What are your orders about the Fire Brigade?\ +From the governor of the prison... from the superintendent of the\ +lunatic asylum..." All night long such announcements were continually\ +being received by the count.\ +\ +To all these inquiries he gave brief and angry replies indicating that\ +orders from him were not now needed, that the whole affair, carefully\ +prepared by him, had now been ruined by somebody, and that that somebody\ +would have to bear the whole responsibility for all that might happen.\ +\ +"Oh, tell that blockhead," he said in reply to the question from the\ +Registrar's Department, "that he should remain to guard his documents.\ +Now why are you asking silly questions about the Fire Brigade? They have\ +horses, let them be off to Vladimir, and not leave them to the French."\ +\ +"Your excellency, the superintendent of the lunatic asylum has come:\ +what are your commands?"\ +\ +"My commands? Let them go away, that's all.... And let the lunatics out\ +into the town. When lunatics command our armies God evidently means\ +these other madmen to be free."\ +\ +In reply to an inquiry about the convicts in the prison, Count\ +Rostopchin shouted angrily at the governor:\ +\ +"Do you expect me to give you two battalions--which we have not got--for\ +a convoy? Release them, that's all about it!"\ +\ +"Your excellency, there are some political prisoners, Meshkov,\ +Vereshchagin..."\ +\ +"Vereshchagin! Hasn't he been hanged yet?" shouted Rostopchin. "Bring\ +him to me!"\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XXV\ +\ +Toward nine o'clock in the morning, when the troops were already moving\ +through Moscow, nobody came to the count any more for instructions.\ +Those who were able to get away were going of their own accord, those\ +who remained behind decided for themselves what they must do.\ +\ +The count ordered his carriage that he might drive to Sokolniki, and sat\ +in his study with folded hands, morose, sallow, and taciturn.\ +\ +In quiet and untroubled times it seems to every administrator that it is\ +only by his efforts that the whole population under his rule is kept\ +going, and in this consciousness of being indispensable every\ +administrator finds the chief reward of his labor and efforts. While the\ +sea of history remains calm the ruler-administrator in his frail bark,\ +holding on with a boat hook to the ship of the people and himself\ +moving, naturally imagines that his efforts move the ship he is holding\ +on to. But as soon as a storm arises and the sea begins to heave and the\ +ship to move, such a delusion is no longer possible. The ship moves\ +independently with its own enormous motion, the boat hook no longer\ +reaches the moving vessel, and suddenly the administrator, instead of\ +appearing a ruler and a source of power, becomes an insignificant,\ +useless, feeble man.\ +\ +Rostopchin felt this, and it was this which exasperated him.\ +\ +The superintendent of police, whom the crowd had stopped, went in to see\ +him at the same time as an adjutant who informed the count that the\ +horses were harnessed. They were both pale, and the superintendent of\ +police, after reporting that he had executed the instructions he had\ +received, informed the count that an immense crowd had collected in the\ +courtyard and wished to see him.\ +\ +Without saying a word Rostopchin rose and walked hastily to his light,\ +luxurious drawing room, went to the balcony door, took hold of the\ +handle, let it go again, and went to the window from which he had a\ +better view of the whole crowd. The tall lad was standing in front,\ +flourishing his arm and saying something with a stern look. The blood-\ +stained smith stood beside him with a gloomy face. A drone of voices was\ +audible through the closed window.\ +\ +"Is my carriage ready?" asked Rostopchin, stepping back from the window.\ +\ +"It is, your excellency," replied the adjutant.\ +\ +Rostopchin went again to the balcony door.\ +\ +"But what do they want?" he asked the superintendent of police.\ +\ +"Your excellency, they say they have got ready, according to your\ +orders, to go against the French, and they shouted something about\ +treachery. But it is a turbulent crowd, your excellency--I hardly\ +managed to get away from it. Your excellency, I venture to suggest..."\ +\ +"You may go. I don't need you to tell me what to do!" exclaimed\ +Rostopchin angrily.\ +\ +He stood by the balcony door looking at the crowd.\ +\ +"This is what they have done with Russia! This is what they have done\ +with me!" thought he, full of an irrepressible fury that welled up\ +within him against the someone to whom what was happening might be\ +attributed. As often happens with passionate people, he was mastered by\ +anger but was still seeking an object on which to vent it. "Here is that\ +mob, the dregs of the people," he thought as he gazed at the crowd:\ +"this rabble they have roused by their folly! They want a victim," he\ +thought as he looked at the tall lad flourishing his arm. And this\ +thought occurred to him just because he himself desired a victim,\ +something on which to vent his rage.\ +\ +"Is the carriage ready?" he asked again.\ +\ +"Yes, your excellency. What are your orders about Vereshchagin? He is\ +waiting at the porch," said the adjutant.\ +\ +"Ah!" exclaimed Rostopchin, as if struck by an unexpected recollection.\ +\ +And rapidly opening the door he went resolutely out onto the balcony.\ +The talking instantly ceased, hats and caps were doffed, and all eyes\ +were raised to the count.\ +\ +"Good morning, lads!" said the count briskly and loudly. "Thank you for\ +coming. I'll come out to you in a moment, but we must first settle with\ +the villain. We must punish the villain who has caused the ruin of\ +Moscow. Wait for me!"\ +\ +And the count stepped as briskly back into the room and slammed the door\ +behind him.\ +\ +A murmur of approbation and satisfaction ran through the crowd. "He'll\ +settle with all the villains, you'll see! And you said the French...\ +He'll show you what law is!" the mob were saying as if reproving one\ +another for their lack of confidence.\ +\ +A few minutes later an officer came hurriedly out of the front door,\ +gave an order, and the dragoons formed up in line. The crowd moved\ +eagerly from the balcony toward the porch. Rostopchin, coming out there\ +with quick angry steps, looked hastily around as if seeking someone.\ +\ +"Where is he?" he inquired. And as he spoke he saw a young man coming\ +round the corner of the house between two dragoons. He had a long thin\ +neck, and his head, that had been half shaved, was again covered by\ +short hair. This young man was dressed in a threadbare blue cloth coat\ +lined with fox fur, that had once been smart, and dirty hempen convict\ +trousers, over which were pulled his thin, dirty, trodden-down boots. On\ +his thin, weak legs were heavy chains which hampered his irresolute\ +movements.\ +\ +"Ah!" said Rostopchin, hurriedly turning away his eyes from the young\ +man in the fur-lined coat and pointing to the bottom step of the porch.\ +"Put him there."\ +\ +The young man in his clattering chains stepped clumsily to the spot\ +indicated, holding away with one finger the coat collar which chafed his\ +neck, turned his long neck twice this way and that, sighed, and\ +submissively folded before him his thin hands, unused to work.\ +\ +For several seconds while the young man was taking his place on the step\ +the silence continued. Only among the back rows of the people, who were\ +all pressing toward the one spot, could sighs, groans, and the shuffling\ +of feet be heard.\ +\ +While waiting for the young man to take his place on the step Rostopchin\ +stood frowning and rubbing his face with his hand.\ +\ +"Lads!" said he, with a metallic ring in his voice. "This man,\ +Vereshchagin, is the scoundrel by whose doing Moscow is perishing."\ +\ +The young man in the fur-lined coat, stooping a little, stood in a\ +submissive attitude, his fingers clasped before him. His emaciated young\ +face, disfigured by the half-shaven head, hung down hopelessly. At the\ +count's first words he raised it slowly and looked up at him as if\ +wishing to say something or at least to meet his eye. But Rostopchin did\ +not look at him. A vein in the young man's long thin neck swelled like a\ +cord and went blue behind the ear, and suddenly his face flushed.\ +\ +All eyes were fixed on him. He looked at the crowd, and rendered more\ +hopeful by the expression he read on the faces there, he smiled sadly\ +and timidly, and lowering his head shifted his feet on the step.\ +\ +"He has betrayed his Tsar and his country, he has gone over to\ +Bonaparte. He alone of all the Russians has disgraced the Russian name,\ +he has caused Moscow to perish," said Rostopchin in a sharp, even voice,\ +but suddenly he glanced down at Vereshchagin who continued to stand in\ +the same submissive attitude. As if inflamed by the sight, he raised his\ +arm and addressed the people, almost shouting:\ +\ +"Deal with him as you think fit! I hand him over to you."\ +\ +The crowd remained silent and only pressed closer and closer to one\ +another. To keep one another back, to breathe in that stifling\ +atmosphere, to be unable to stir, and to await something unknown,\ +uncomprehended, and terrible, was becoming unbearable. Those standing in\ +front, who had seen and heard what had taken place before them, all\ +stood with wide-open eyes and mouths, straining with all their strength,\ +and held back the crowd that was pushing behind them.\ +\ +"Beat him!... Let the traitor perish and not disgrace the Russian name!"\ +shouted Rostopchin. "Cut him down. I command it."\ +\ +Hearing not so much the words as the angry tone of Rostopchin's voice,\ +the crowd moaned and heaved forward, but again paused.\ +\ +"Count!" exclaimed the timid yet theatrical voice of Vereshchagin in the\ +midst of the momentary silence that ensued, "Count! One God is above us\ +both...." He lifted his head and again the thick vein in his thin neck\ +filled with blood and the color rapidly came and went in his face.\ +\ +He did not finish what he wished to say.\ +\ +"Cut him down! I command it..." shouted Rostopchin, suddenly growing\ +pale like Vereshchagin.\ +\ +"Draw sabers!" cried the dragoon officer, drawing his own.\ +\ +Another still stronger wave flowed through the crowd and reaching the\ +front ranks carried it swaying to the very steps of the porch. The tall\ +youth, with a stony look on his face, and rigid and uplifted arm, stood\ +beside Vereshchagin.\ +\ +"Saber him!" the dragoon officer almost whispered.\ +\ +And one of the soldiers, his face all at once distorted with fury,\ +struck Vereshchagin on the head with the blunt side of his saber.\ +\ +"Ah!" cried Vereshchagin in meek surprise, looking round with a\ +frightened glance as if not understanding why this was done to him. A\ +similar moan of surprise and horror ran through the crowd. "O Lord!"\ +exclaimed a sorrowful voice.\ +\ +But after the exclamation of surprise that had escaped from Vereshchagin\ +he uttered a plaintive cry of pain, and that cry was fatal. The barrier\ +of human feeling, strained to the utmost, that had held the crowd in\ +check suddenly broke. The crime had begun and must now be completed. The\ +plaintive moan of reproach was drowned by the threatening and angry roar\ +of the crowd. Like the seventh and last wave that shatters a ship, that\ +last irresistible wave burst from the rear and reached the front ranks,\ +carrying them off their feet and engulfing them all. The dragoon was\ +about to repeat his blow. Vereshchagin with a cry of horror, covering\ +his head with his hands, rushed toward the crowd. The tall youth,\ +against whom he stumbled, seized his thin neck with his hands and,\ +yelling wildly, fell with him under the feet of the pressing, struggling\ +crowd.\ +\ +Some beat and tore at Vereshchagin, others at the tall youth. And the\ +screams of those that were being trampled on and of those who tried to\ +rescue the tall lad only increased the fury of the crowd. It was a long\ +time before the dragoons could extricate the bleeding youth, beaten\ +almost to death. And for a long time, despite the feverish haste with\ +which the mob tried to end the work that had been begun, those who were\ +hitting, throttling, and tearing at Vereshchagin were unable to kill\ +him, for the crowd pressed from all sides, swaying as one mass with them\ +in the center and rendering it impossible for them either to kill him or\ +let him go.\ +\ +"Hit him with an ax, eh!... Crushed?... Traitor, he sold Christ....\ +Still alive... tenacious... serves him right! Torture serves a thief\ +right. Use the hatchet!... What--still alive?"\ +\ +Only when the victim ceased to struggle and his cries changed to a long-\ +drawn, measured death rattle did the crowd around his prostrate,\ +bleeding corpse begin rapidly to change places. Each one came up,\ +glanced at what had been done, and with horror, reproach, and\ +astonishment pushed back again.\ +\ +"O Lord! The people are like wild beasts! How could he be alive?" voices\ +in the crowd could be heard saying. "Quite a young fellow too... must\ +have been a merchant's son. What men!... and they say he's not the right\ +one.... How not the right one?... O Lord! And there's another has been\ +beaten too--they say he's nearly done for.... Oh, the people... Aren't\ +they afraid of sinning?..." said the same mob now, looking with pained\ +distress at the dead body with its long, thin, half-severed neck and its\ +livid face stained with blood and dust.\ +\ +A painstaking police officer, considering the presence of a corpse in\ +his excellency's courtyard unseemly, told the dragoons to take it away.\ +Two dragoons took it by its distorted legs and dragged it along the\ +ground. The gory, dust-stained, half-shaven head with its long neck\ +trailed twisting along the ground. The crowd shrank back from it.\ +\ +At the moment when Vereshchagin fell and the crowd closed in with savage\ +yells and swayed about him, Rostopchin suddenly turned pale and, instead\ +of going to the back entrance where his carriage awaited him, went with\ +hurried steps and bent head, not knowing where and why, along the\ +passage leading to the rooms on the ground floor. The count's face was\ +white and he could not control the feverish twitching of his lower jaw.\ +\ +"This way, your excellency... Where are you going?... This way,\ +please..." said a trembling, frightened voice behind him.\ +\ +Count Rostopchin was unable to reply and, turning obediently, went in\ +the direction indicated. At the back entrance stood his caleche. The\ +distant roar of the yelling crowd was audible even there. He hastily\ +took his seat and told the coachman to drive him to his country house in\ +Sokolniki.\ +\ +When they reached the Myasnitski Street and could no longer hear the\ +shouts of the mob, the count began to repent. He remembered with\ +dissatisfaction the agitation and fear he had betrayed before his\ +subordinates. "The mob is terrible--disgusting," he said to himself in\ +French. "They are like wolves whom nothing but flesh can appease."\ +"Count! One God is above us both!"--Vereshchagin's words suddenly\ +recurred to him, and a disagreeable shiver ran down his back. But this\ +was only a momentary feeling and Count Rostopchin smiled disdainfully at\ +himself. "I had other duties," thought he. "The people had to be\ +appeased. Many other victims have perished and are perishing for the\ +public good"--and he began thinking of his social duties to his family\ +and to the city entrusted to him, and of himself--not himself as\ +Theodore Vasilyevich Rostopchin (he fancied that Theodore Vasilyevich\ +Rostopchin was sacrificing himself for the public good) but himself as\ +governor, the representative of authority and of the Tsar. "Had I been\ +simply Theodore Vasilyevich my course of action would have been quite\ +different, but it was my duty to safeguard my life and dignity as\ +commander-in-chief."\ +\ +Lightly swaying on the flexible springs of his carriage and no longer\ +hearing the terrible sounds of the crowd, Rostopchin grew physically\ +calm and, as always happens, as soon as he became physically tranquil\ +his mind devised reasons why he should be mentally tranquil too. The\ +thought which tranquillized Rostopchin was not a new one. Since the\ +world began and men have killed one another no one has ever committed\ +such a crime against his fellow man without comforting himself with this\ +same idea. This idea is le bien public, the hypothetical welfare of\ +other people.\ +\ +To a man not swayed by passion that welfare is never certain, but he who\ +commits such a crime always knows just where that welfare lies. And\ +Rostopchin now knew it.\ +\ +Not only did his reason not reproach him for what he had done, but he\ +even found cause for self-satisfaction in having so successfully\ +contrived to avail himself of a convenient opportunity to punish a\ +criminal and at the same time pacify the mob.\ +\ +"Vereshchagin was tried and condemned to death," thought Rostopchin\ +(though the Senate had only condemned Vereshchagin to hard labor), "he\ +was a traitor and a spy. I could not let him go unpunished and so I have\ +killed two birds with one stone: to appease the mob I gave them a victim\ +and at the same time punished a miscreant."\ +\ +Having reached his country house and begun to give orders about domestic\ +arrangements, the count grew quite tranquil.\ +\ +Half an hour later he was driving with his fast horses across the\ +Sokolniki field, no longer thinking of what had occurred but considering\ +what was to come. He was driving to the Yauza bridge where he had heard\ +that Kutuzov was. Count Rostopchin was mentally preparing the angry and\ +stinging reproaches he meant to address to Kutuzov for his deception. He\ +would make that foxy old courtier feel that the responsibility for all\ +the calamities that would follow the abandonment of the city and the\ +ruin of Russia (as Rostopchin regarded it) would fall upon his doting\ +old head. Planning beforehand what he would say to Kutuzov, Rostopchin\ +turned angrily in his caleche and gazed sternly from side to side.\ +\ +The Sokolniki field was deserted. Only at the end of it, in front of the\ +almshouse and the lunatic asylum, could be seen some people in white and\ +others like them walking singly across the field shouting and\ +gesticulating.\ +\ +One of these was running to cross the path of Count Rostopchin's\ +carriage, and the count himself, his coachman, and his dragoons looked\ +with vague horror and curiosity at these released lunatics and\ +especially at the one running toward them.\ +\ +Swaying from side to side on his long, thin legs in his fluttering\ +dressing gown, this lunatic was running impetuously, his gaze fixed on\ +Rostopchin, shouting something in a hoarse voice and making signs to him\ +to stop. The lunatic's solemn, gloomy face was thin and yellow, with its\ +beard growing in uneven tufts. His black, agate pupils with saffron-\ +yellow whites moved restlessly near the lower eyelids.\ +\ +"Stop! Pull up, I tell you!" he cried in a piercing voice, and again\ +shouted something breathlessly with emphatic intonations and gestures.\ +\ +Coming abreast of the caleche he ran beside it.\ +\ +"Thrice have they slain me, thrice have I risen from the dead. They\ +stoned me, crucified me... I shall rise... shall rise... shall rise.\ +They have torn my body. The kingdom of God will be overthrown... Thrice\ +will I overthrow it and thrice re-establish it!" he cried, raising his\ +voice higher and higher.\ +\ +Count Rostopchin suddenly grew pale as he had done when the crowd closed\ +in on Vereshchagin. He turned away. "Go fas... faster!" he cried in a\ +trembling voice to his coachman. The caleche flew over the ground as\ +fast as the horses could draw it, but for a long time Count Rostopchin\ +still heard the insane despairing screams growing fainter in the\ +distance, while his eyes saw nothing but the astonished, frightened,\ +bloodstained face of "the traitor" in the fur-lined coat.\ +\ +Recent as that mental picture was, Rostopchin already felt that it had\ +cut deep into his heart and drawn blood. Even now he felt clearly that\ +the gory trace of that recollection would not pass with time, but that\ +the terrible memory would, on the contrary, dwell in his heart ever more\ +cruelly and painfully to the end of his life. He seemed still to hear\ +the sound of his own words: "Cut him down! I command it...."\ +\ +"Why did I utter those words? It was by some accident I said them.... I\ +need not have said them," he thought. "And then nothing would have\ +happened." He saw the frightened and then infuriated face of the dragoon\ +who dealt the blow, the look of silent, timid reproach that boy in the\ +fur-lined coat had turned upon him. "But I did not do it for my own\ +sake. I was bound to act that way.... The mob, the traitor... the public\ +welfare," thought he.\ +\ +Troops were still crowding at the Yauza bridge. It was hot. Kutuzov,\ +dejected and frowning, sat on a bench by the bridge toying with his whip\ +in the sand when a caleche dashed up noisily. A man in a general's\ +uniform with plumes in his hat went up to Kutuzov and said something in\ +French. It was Count Rostopchin. He told Kutuzov that he had come\ +because Moscow, the capital, was no more and only the army remained.\ +\ +"Things would have been different if your Serene Highness had not told\ +me that you would not abandon Moscow without another battle; all this\ +would not have happened," he said.\ +\ +Kutuzov looked at Rostopchin as if, not grasping what was said to him,\ +he was trying to read something peculiar written at that moment on the\ +face of the man addressing him. Rostopchin grew confused and became\ +silent. Kutuzov slightly shook his head and not taking his penetrating\ +gaze from Rostopchin's face muttered softly:\ +\ +"No! I shall not give up Moscow without a battle!"\ +\ +Whether Kutuzov was thinking of something entirely different when he\ +spoke those words, or uttered them purposely, knowing them to be\ +meaningless, at any rate Rostopchin made no reply and hastily left him.\ +And strange to say, the Governor of Moscow, the proud Count Rostopchin,\ +took up a Cossack whip and went to the bridge where he began with shouts\ +to drive on the carts that blocked the way.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XXVI\ +\ +Toward four o'clock in the afternoon Murat's troops were entering\ +Moscow. In front rode a detachment of Wurttemberg hussars and behind\ +them rode the King of Naples himself accompanied by a numerous suite.\ +\ +About the middle of the Arbat Street, near the Church of the Miraculous\ +Icon of St. Nicholas, Murat halted to await news from the advanced\ +detachment as to the condition in which they had found the citadel, le\ +Kremlin.\ +\ +Around Murat gathered a group of those who had remained in Moscow. They\ +all stared in timid bewilderment at the strange, long-haired commander\ +dressed up in feathers and gold.\ +\ +"Is that their Tsar himself? He's not bad!" low voices could be heard\ +saying.\ +\ +An interpreter rode up to the group.\ +\ +"Take off your cap... your caps!" These words went from one to another\ +in the crowd. The interpreter addressed an old porter and asked if it\ +was far to the Kremlin. The porter, listening in perplexity to the\ +unfamiliar Polish accent and not realizing that the interpreter was\ +speaking Russian, did not understand what was being said to him and\ +slipped behind the others.\ +\ +Murat approached the interpreter and told him to ask where the Russian\ +army was. One of the Russians understood what was asked and several\ +voices at once began answering the interpreter. A French officer,\ +returning from the advanced detachment, rode up to Murat and reported\ +that the gates of the citadel had been barricaded and that there was\ +probably an ambuscade there.\ +\ +"Good!" said Murat and, turning to one of the gentlemen in his suite,\ +ordered four light guns to be moved forward to fire at the gates.\ +\ +The guns emerged at a trot from the column following Murat and advanced\ +up the Arbat. When they reached the end of the Vozdvizhenka Street they\ +halted and drew in the Square. Several French officers superintended the\ +placing of the guns and looked at the Kremlin through field glasses.\ +\ +The bells in the Kremlin were ringing for vespers, and this sound\ +troubled the French. They imagined it to be a call to arms. A few\ +infantrymen ran to the Kutafyev Gate. Beams and wooden screens had been\ +put there, and two musket shots rang out from under the gate as soon as\ +an officer and men began to run toward it. A general who was standing by\ +the guns shouted some words of command to the officer, and the latter\ +ran back again with his men.\ +\ +The sound of three more shots came from the gate.\ +\ +One shot struck a French soldier's foot, and from behind the screens\ +came the strange sound of a few voices shouting. Instantly as at a word\ +of command the expression of cheerful serenity on the faces of the\ +French general, officers, and men changed to one of determined\ +concentrated readiness for strife and suffering. To all of them from the\ +marshal to the least soldier, that place was not the Vozdvizhenka,\ +Mokhavaya, or Kutafyev Street, nor the Troitsa Gate (places familiar in\ +Moscow), but a new battlefield which would probably prove sanguinary.\ +And all made ready for that battle. The cries from the gates ceased. The\ +guns were advanced, the artillerymen blew the ash off their linstocks,\ +and an officer gave the word "Fire!" This was followed by two whistling\ +sounds of canister shot, one after another. The shot rattled against the\ +stone of the gate and upon the wooden beams and screens, and two\ +wavering clouds of smoke rose over the Square.\ +\ +A few instants after the echo of the reports resounding over the stone-\ +built Kremlin had died away the French heard a strange sound above their\ +head. Thousands of crows rose above the walls and circled in the air,\ +cawing and noisily flapping their wings. Together with that sound came a\ +solitary human cry from the gateway and amid the smoke appeared the\ +figure of a bareheaded man in a peasant's coat. He grasped a musket and\ +took aim at the French. "Fire!" repeated the officer once more, and the\ +reports of a musket and of two cannon shots were heard simultaneously.\ +The gate was again hidden by smoke.\ +\ +Nothing more stirred behind the screens and the French infantry soldiers\ +and officers advanced to the gate. In the gateway lay three wounded and\ +four dead. Two men in peasant coats ran away at the foot of the wall,\ +toward the Znamenka.\ +\ +"Clear that away!" said the officer, pointing to the beams and the\ +corpses, and the French soldiers, after dispatching the wounded, threw\ +the corpses over the parapet.\ +\ +Who these men were nobody knew. "Clear that away!" was all that was said\ +of them, and they were thrown over the parapet and removed later on that\ +they might not stink. Thiers alone dedicates a few eloquent lines to\ +their memory: "These wretches had occupied the sacred citadel, having\ +supplied themselves with guns from the arsenal, and fired" (the\ +wretches) "at the French. Some of them were sabered and the Kremlin was\ +purged of their presence."\ +\ +Murat was informed that the way had been cleared. The French entered the\ +gates and began pitching their camp in the Senate Square. Out of the\ +windows of the Senate House the soldiers threw chairs into the Square\ +for fuel and kindled fires there.\ +\ +Other detachments passed through the Kremlin and encamped along the\ +Moroseyka, the Lubyanka, and Pokrovka Streets. Others quartered\ +themselves along the Vozdvizhenka, the Nikolski, and the Tverskoy\ +Streets. No masters of the houses being found anywhere, the French were\ +not billeted on the inhabitants as is usual in towns but lived in it as\ +in a camp.\ +\ +Though tattered, hungry, worn out, and reduced to a third of their\ +original number, the French entered Moscow in good marching order. It\ +was a weary and famished, but still a fighting and menacing army. But it\ +remained an army only until its soldiers had dispersed into their\ +different lodgings. As soon as the men of the various regiments began to\ +disperse among the wealthy and deserted houses, the army was lost\ +forever and there came into being something nondescript, neither\ +citizens nor soldiers but what are known as marauders. When five weeks\ +later these same men left Moscow, they no longer formed an army. They\ +were a mob of marauders, each carrying a quantity of articles which\ +seemed to him valuable or useful. The aim of each man when he left\ +Moscow was no longer, as it had been, to conquer, but merely to keep\ +what he had acquired. Like a monkey which puts its paw into the narrow\ +neck of a jug, and having seized a handful of nuts will not open its\ +fist for fear of losing what it holds, and therefore perishes, the\ +French when they left Moscow had inevitably to perish because they\ +carried their loot with them, yet to abandon what they had stolen was as\ +impossible for them as it is for the monkey to open its paw and let go\ +of its nuts. Ten minutes after each regiment had entered a Moscow\ +district, not a soldier or officer was left. Men in military uniforms\ +and Hessian boots could be seen through the windows, laughing and\ +walking through the rooms. In cellars and storerooms similar men were\ +busy among the provisions, and in the yards unlocking or breaking open\ +coach house and stable doors, lighting fires in kitchens and kneading\ +and baking bread with rolled-up sleeves, and cooking; or frightening,\ +amusing, or caressing women and children. There were many such men both\ +in the shops and houses--but there was no army.\ +\ +Order after order was issued by the French commanders that day\ +forbidding the men to disperse about the town, sternly forbidding any\ +violence to the inhabitants or any looting, and announcing a roll call\ +for that very evening. But despite all these measures the men, who had\ +till then constituted an army, flowed all over the wealthy, deserted\ +city with its comforts and plentiful supplies. As a hungry herd of\ +cattle keeps well together when crossing a barren field, but gets out of\ +hand and at once disperses uncontrollably as soon as it reaches rich\ +pastures, so did the army disperse all over the wealthy city.\ +\ +No residents were left in Moscow, and the soldiers--like water\ +percolating through sand--spread irresistibly through the city in all\ +directions from the Kremlin into which they had first marched. The\ +cavalry, on entering a merchant's house that had been abandoned and\ +finding there stabling more than sufficient for their horses, went on,\ +all the same, to the next house which seemed to them better. Many of\ +them appropriated several houses, chalked their names on them, and\ +quarreled and even fought with other companies for them. Before they had\ +had time to secure quarters the soldiers ran out into the streets to see\ +the city and, hearing that everything had been abandoned, rushed to\ +places where valuables were to be had for the taking. The officers\ +followed to check the soldiers and were involuntarily drawn into doing\ +the same. In Carriage Row carriages had been left in the shops, and\ +generals flocked there to select caleches and coaches for themselves.\ +The few inhabitants who had remained invited commanding officers to\ +their houses, hoping thereby to secure themselves from being plundered.\ +There were masses of wealth and there seemed no end to it. All around\ +the quarters occupied by the French were other regions still unexplored\ +and unoccupied where, they thought, yet greater riches might be found.\ +And Moscow engulfed the army ever deeper and deeper. When water is\ +spilled on dry ground both the dry ground and the water disappear and\ +mud results; and in the same way the entry of the famished army into the\ +rich and deserted city resulted in fires and looting and the destruction\ +of both the army and the wealthy city.\ +\ +The French attributed the Fire of Moscow au patriotisme feroce de\ +Rostopchine, * the Russians to the barbarity of the French. In reality,\ +however, it was not, and could not be, possible to explain the burning\ +of Moscow by making any individual, or any group of people, responsible\ +for it. Moscow was burned because it found itself in a position in which\ +any town built of wood was bound to burn, quite apart from whether it\ +had, or had not, a hundred and thirty inferior fire engines. Deserted\ +Moscow had to burn as inevitably as a heap of shavings has to burn on\ +which sparks continually fall for several days. A town built of wood,\ +where scarcely a day passes without conflagrations when the house owners\ +are in residence and a police force is present, cannot help burning when\ +its inhabitants have left it and it is occupied by soldiers who smoke\ +pipes, make campfires of the Senate chairs in the Senate Square, and\ +cook themselves meals twice a day. In peacetime it is only necessary to\ +billet troops in the villages of any district and the number of fires in\ +that district immediately increases. How much then must the probability\ +of fire be increased in an abandoned, wooden town where foreign troops\ +are quartered. "Le patriotisme feroce de Rostopchine" and the barbarity\ +of the French were not to blame in the matter. Moscow was set on fire by\ +the soldiers' pipes, kitchens, and campfires, and by the carelessness of\ +enemy soldiers occupying houses they did not own. Even if there was any\ +arson (which is very doubtful, for no one had any reason to burn the\ +houses--in any case a troublesome and dangerous thing to do), arson\ +cannot be regarded as the cause, for the same thing would have happened\ +without any incendiarism.\ +\ +\ +* To Rostopchin's ferocious patriotism.\ +\ +However tempting it might be for the French to blame Rostopchin's\ +ferocity and for Russians to blame the scoundrel Bonaparte, or later on\ +to place an heroic torch in the hands of their own people, it is\ +impossible not to see that there could be no such direct cause of the\ +fire, for Moscow had to burn as every village, factory, or house must\ +burn which is left by its owners and in which strangers are allowed to\ +live and cook their porridge. Moscow was burned by its inhabitants, it\ +is true, but by those who had abandoned it and not by those who remained\ +in it. Moscow when occupied by the enemy did not remain intact like\ +Berlin, Vienna, and other towns, simply because its inhabitants\ +abandoned it and did not welcome the French with bread and salt, nor\ +bring them the keys of the city.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XXVII\ +\ +The absorption of the French by Moscow, radiating starwise as it did,\ +only reached the quarter where Pierre was staying by the evening of the\ +second of September.\ +\ +After the last two days spent in solitude and unusual circumstances,\ +Pierre was in a state bordering on insanity. He was completely obsessed\ +by one persistent thought. He did not know how or when this thought had\ +taken such possession of him, but he remembered nothing of the past,\ +understood nothing of the present, and all he saw and heard appeared to\ +him like a dream.\ +\ +He had left home only to escape the intricate tangle of life's demands\ +that enmeshed him, and which in his present condition he was unable to\ +unravel. He had gone to Joseph Alexeevich's house, on the plea of\ +sorting the deceased's books and papers, only in search of rest from\ +life's turmoil, for in his mind the memory of Joseph Alexeevich was\ +connected with a world of eternal, solemn, and calm thoughts, quite\ +contrary to the restless confusion into which he felt himself being\ +drawn. He sought a quiet refuge, and in Joseph Alexeevich's study he\ +really found it. When he sat with his elbows on the dusty writing table\ +in the deathlike stillness of the study, calm and significant memories\ +of the last few days rose one after another in his imagination,\ +particularly of the battle of Borodino and of that vague sense of his\ +own insignificance and insincerity compared with the truth, simplicity,\ +and strength of the class of men he mentally classed as they. When\ +Gerasim roused him from his reverie the idea occurred to him of taking\ +part in the popular defense of Moscow which he knew was projected. And\ +with that object he had asked Gerasim to get him a peasant's coat and a\ +pistol, confiding to him his intentions of remaining in Joseph\ +Alexeevich's house and keeping his name secret. Then during the first\ +day spent in inaction and solitude (he tried several times to fix his\ +attention on the masonic manuscripts, but was unable to do so) the idea\ +that had previously occurred to him of the cabalistic significance of\ +his name in connection with Bonaparte's more than once vaguely presented\ +itself. But the idea that he, L'russe Besuhof, was destined to set a\ +limit to the power of the Beast was as yet only one of the fancies that\ +often passed through his mind and left no trace behind.\ +\ +When, having bought the coat merely with the object of taking part among\ +the people in the defense of Moscow, Pierre had met the Rostovs and\ +Natasha had said to him: "Are you remaining in Moscow?... How splendid!"\ +the thought flashed into his mind that it really would be a good thing,\ +even if Moscow were taken, for him to remain there and do what he was\ +predestined to do.\ +\ +Next day, with the sole idea of not sparing himself and not lagging in\ +any way behind them, Pierre went to the Three Hills gate. But when he\ +returned to the house convinced that Moscow would not be defended, he\ +suddenly felt that what before had seemed to him merely a possibility\ +had now become absolutely necessary and inevitable. He must remain in\ +Moscow, concealing his name, and must meet Napoleon and kill him, and\ +either perish or put an end to the misery of all Europe--which it seemed\ +to him was solely due to Napoleon.\ +\ +Pierre knew all the details of the attempt on Bonaparte's life in 1809\ +by a German student in Vienna, and knew that the student had been shot.\ +And the risk to which he would expose his life by carrying out his\ +design excited him still more.\ +\ +Two equally strong feelings drew Pierre irresistibly to this purpose.\ +The first was a feeling of the necessity of sacrifice and suffering in\ +view of the common calamity, the same feeling that had caused him to go\ +to Mozhaysk on the twenty-fifth and to make his way to the very thick of\ +the battle and had now caused him to run away from his home and, in\ +place of the luxury and comfort to which he was accustomed, to sleep on\ +a hard sofa without undressing and eat the same food as Gerasim. The\ +other was that vague and quite Russian feeling of contempt for\ +everything conventional, artificial, and human--for everything the\ +majority of men regard as the greatest good in the world. Pierre had\ +first experienced this strange and fascinating feeling at the Sloboda\ +Palace, when he had suddenly felt that wealth, power, and life--all that\ +men so painstakingly acquire and guard--if it has any worth has so only\ +by reason of the joy with which it can all be renounced.\ +\ +It was the feeling that induces a volunteer recruit to spend his last\ +penny on drink, and a drunken man to smash mirrors or glasses for no\ +apparent reason and knowing that it will cost him all the money he\ +possesses: the feeling which causes a man to perform actions which from\ +an ordinary point of view are insane, to test, as it were, his personal\ +power and strength, affirming the existence of a higher, nonhuman\ +criterion of life.\ +\ +From the very day Pierre had experienced this feeling for the first time\ +at the Sloboda Palace he had been continuously under its influence, but\ +only now found full satisfaction for it. Moreover, at this moment Pierre\ +was supported in his design and prevented from renouncing it by what he\ +had already done in that direction. If he were now to leave Moscow like\ +everyone else, his flight from home, the peasant coat, the pistol, and\ +his announcement to the Rostovs that he would remain in Moscow would all\ +become not merely meaningless but contemptible and ridiculous, and to\ +this Pierre was very sensitive.\ +\ +Pierre's physical condition, as is always the case, corresponded to his\ +mental state. The unaccustomed coarse food, the vodka he drank during\ +those days, the absence of wine and cigars, his dirty unchanged linen,\ +two almost sleepless nights passed on a short sofa without bedding--all\ +this kept him in a state of excitement bordering on insanity.\ +\ +It was two o'clock in the afternoon. The French had already entered\ +Moscow. Pierre knew this, but instead of acting he only thought about\ +his undertaking, going over its minutest details in his mind. In his\ +fancy he did not clearly picture to himself either the striking of the\ +blow or the death of Napoleon, but with extraordinary vividness and\ +melancholy enjoyment imagined his own destruction and heroic endurance.\ +\ +"Yes, alone, for the sake of all, I must do it or perish!" he thought.\ +"Yes, I will approach... and then suddenly... with pistol or dagger? But\ +that is all the same! 'It is not I but the hand of Providence that\ +punishes thee,' I shall say," thought he, imagining what he would say\ +when killing Napoleon. "Well then, take me and execute me!" he went on,\ +speaking to himself and bowing his head with a sad but firm expression.\ +\ +While Pierre, standing in the middle of the room, was talking to himself\ +in this way, the study door opened and on the threshold appeared the\ +figure of Makar Alexeevich, always so timid before but now quite\ +transformed.\ +\ +His dressing gown was unfastened, his face red and distorted. He was\ +obviously drunk. On seeing Pierre he grew confused at first, but\ +noticing embarrassment on Pierre's face immediately grew bold and,\ +staggering on his thin legs, advanced into the middle of the room.\ +\ +"They're frightened," he said confidentially in a hoarse voice. "I say I\ +won't surrender, I say... Am I not right, sir?"\ +\ +He paused and then suddenly seeing the pistol on the table seized it\ +with unexpected rapidity and ran out into the corridor.\ +\ +Gerasim and the porter, who had followed Makar Alexeevich, stopped him\ +in the vestibule and tried to take the pistol from him. Pierre, coming\ +out into the corridor, looked with pity and repulsion at the half-crazy\ +old man. Makar Alexeevich, frowning with exertion, held on to the pistol\ +and screamed hoarsely, evidently with some heroic fancy in his head.\ +\ +"To arms! Board them! No, you shan't get it," he yelled.\ +\ +"That will do, please, that will do. Have the goodness--please, sir, to\ +let go! Please, sir..." pleaded Gerasim, trying carefully to steer Makar\ +Alexeevich by the elbows back to the door.\ +\ +"Who are you? Bonaparte!..." shouted Makar Alexeevich.\ +\ +"That's not right, sir. Come to your room, please, and rest. Allow me to\ +have the pistol."\ +\ +"Be off, thou base slave! Touch me not! See this?" shouted Makar\ +Alexeevich, brandishing the pistol. "Board them!"\ +\ +"Catch hold!" whispered Gerasim to the porter.\ +\ +They seized Makar Alexeevich by the arms and dragged him to the door.\ +\ +The vestibule was filled with the discordant sounds of a struggle and of\ +a tipsy, hoarse voice.\ +\ +Suddenly a fresh sound, a piercing feminine scream, reverberated from\ +the porch and the cook came running into the vestibule.\ +\ +"It's them! Gracious heavens! O Lord, four of them, horsemen!" she\ +cried.\ +\ +Gerasim and the porter let Makar Alexeevich go, and in the now silent\ +corridor the sound of several hands knocking at the front door could be\ +heard.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XXVIII\ +\ +Pierre, having decided that until he had carried out his design he would\ +disclose neither his identity nor his knowledge of French, stood at the\ +half-open door of the corridor, intending to conceal himself as soon as\ +the French entered. But the French entered and still Pierre did not\ +retire--an irresistible curiosity kept him there.\ +\ +There were two of them. One was an officer--a tall, soldierly, handsome\ +man--the other evidently a private or an orderly, sunburned, short, and\ +thin, with sunken cheeks and a dull expression. The officer walked in\ +front, leaning on a stick and slightly limping. When he had advanced a\ +few steps he stopped, having apparently decided that these were good\ +quarters, turned round to the soldiers standing at the entrance, and in\ +a loud voice of command ordered them to put up the horses. Having done\ +that, the officer, lifting his elbow with a smart gesture, stroked his\ +mustache and lightly touched his hat.\ +\ +"Bonjour, la compagnie!" * said he gaily, smiling and looking about him.\ +\ +\ +* "Good day, everybody!"\ +\ +No one gave any reply.\ +\ +"Vous etes le bourgeois?" * the officer asked Gerasim.\ +\ +\ +* "Are you the master here?"\ +\ +Gerasim gazed at the officer with an alarmed and inquiring look.\ +\ +"Quartier, quartier, logement!" said the officer, looking down at the\ +little man with a condescending and good-natured smile. "Les francais\ +sont de bons enfants. Que diable! Voyons! Ne nous fachons pas, mon\ +vieux!" * added he, clapping the scared and silent Gerasim on the\ +shoulder. "Well, does no one speak French in this establishment?" he\ +asked again in French, looking around and meeting Pierre's eyes. Pierre\ +moved away from the door.\ +\ +\ +* "Quarters, quarters, lodgings! The French are good fellows. What the\ +devil! There, don't let us be cross, old fellow!"\ +\ +Again the officer turned to Gerasim and asked him to show him the rooms\ +in the house.\ +\ +"Master, not here--don't understand... me, you..." said Gerasim, trying\ +to render his words more comprehensible by contorting them.\ +\ +Still smiling, the French officer spread out his hands before Gerasim's\ +nose, intimating that he did not understand him either, and moved,\ +limping, to the door at which Pierre was standing. Pierre wished to go\ +away and conceal himself, but at that moment he saw Makar Alexeevich\ +appearing at the open kitchen door with the pistol in his hand. With a\ +madman's cunning, Makar Alexeevich eyed the Frenchman, raised his\ +pistol, and took aim.\ +\ +"Board them!" yelled the tipsy man, trying to press the trigger. Hearing\ +the yell the officer turned round, and at the same moment Pierre threw\ +himself on the drunkard. Just when Pierre snatched at and struck up the\ +pistol Makar Alexeevich at last got his fingers on the trigger, there\ +was a deafening report, and all were enveloped in a cloud of smoke. The\ +Frenchman turned pale and rushed to the door.\ +\ +Forgetting his intention of concealing his knowledge of French, Pierre,\ +snatching away the pistol and throwing it down, ran up to the officer\ +and addressed him in French.\ +\ +"You are not wounded?" he asked.\ +\ +"I think not," answered the Frenchman, feeling himself over. "But I have\ +had a lucky escape this time," he added, pointing to the damaged plaster\ +of the wall. "Who is that man?" said he, looking sternly at Pierre.\ +\ +"Oh, I am really in despair at what has occurred," said Pierre rapidly,\ +quite forgetting the part he had intended to play. "He is an unfortunate\ +madman who did not know what he was doing."\ +\ +The officer went up to Makar Alexeevich and took him by the collar.\ +\ +Makar Alexeevich was standing with parted lips, swaying, as if about to\ +fall asleep, as he leaned against the wall.\ +\ +"Brigand! You shall pay for this," said the Frenchman, letting go of\ +him. "We French are merciful after victory, but we do not pardon\ +traitors," he added, with a look of gloomy dignity and a fine energetic\ +gesture.\ +\ +Pierre continued, in French, to persuade the officer not to hold that\ +drunken imbecile to account. The Frenchman listened in silence with the\ +same gloomy expression, but suddenly turned to Pierre with a smile. For\ +a few seconds he looked at him in silence. His handsome face assumed a\ +melodramatically gentle expression and he held out his hand.\ +\ +"You have saved my life. You are French," said he.\ +\ +For a Frenchman that deduction was indubitable. Only a Frenchman could\ +perform a great deed, and to save his life--the life of M. Ramballe,\ +captain of the 13th Light Regiment--was undoubtedly a very great deed.\ +\ +But however indubitable that conclusion and the officer's conviction\ +based upon it, Pierre felt it necessary to disillusion him.\ +\ +"I am Russian," he said quickly.\ +\ +"Tut, tut, tut! Tell that to others," said the officer, waving his\ +finger before his nose and smiling. "You shall tell me all about that\ +presently. I am delighted to meet a compatriot. Well, and what are we to\ +do with this man?" he added, addressing himself to Pierre as to a\ +brother.\ +\ +Even if Pierre were not a Frenchman, having once received that loftiest\ +of human appellations he could not renounce it, said the officer's look\ +and tone. In reply to his last question Pierre again explained who Makar\ +Alexeevich was and how just before their arrival that drunken imbecile\ +had seized the loaded pistol which they had not had time to recover from\ +him, and begged the officer to let the deed go unpunished.\ +\ +The Frenchman expanded his chest and made a majestic gesture with his\ +arm.\ +\ +"You have saved my life! You are French. You ask his pardon? I grant it\ +you. Lead that man away!" said he quickly and energetically, and taking\ +the arm of Pierre whom he had promoted to be a Frenchman for saving his\ +life, he went with him into the room.\ +\ +The soldiers in the yard, hearing the shot, came into the passage asking\ +what had happened, and expressed their readiness to punish the culprits,\ +but the officer sternly checked them.\ +\ +"You will be called in when you are wanted," he said.\ +\ +The soldiers went out again, and the orderly, who had meanwhile had time\ +to visit the kitchen, came up to his officer.\ +\ +"Captain, there is soup and a leg of mutton in the kitchen," said he.\ +"Shall I serve them up?"\ +\ +"Yes, and some wine," answered the captain.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XXIX\ +\ +When the French officer went into the room with Pierre the latter again\ +thought it his duty to assure him that he was not French and wished to\ +go away, but the officer would not hear of it. He was so very polite,\ +amiable, good-natured, and genuinely grateful to Pierre for saving his\ +life that Pierre had not the heart to refuse, and sat down with him in\ +the parlor--the first room they entered. To Pierre's assurances that he\ +was not a Frenchman, the captain, evidently not understanding how anyone\ +could decline so flattering an appellation, shrugged his shoulders and\ +said that if Pierre absolutely insisted on passing for a Russian let it\ +be so, but for all that he would be forever bound to Pierre by gratitude\ +for saving his life.\ +\ +Had this man been endowed with the slightest capacity for perceiving the\ +feelings of others, and had he at all understood what Pierre's feelings\ +were, the latter would probably have left him, but the man's animated\ +obtuseness to everything other than himself disarmed Pierre.\ +\ +"A Frenchman or a Russian prince incognito," said the officer, looking\ +at Pierre's fine though dirty linen and at the ring on his finger. "I\ +owe my life to you and offer you my friendship. A Frenchman never\ +forgets either an insult or a service. I offer you my friendship. That\ +is all I can say."\ +\ +There was so much good nature and nobility (in the French sense of the\ +word) in the officer's voice, in the expression of his face and in his\ +gestures, that Pierre, unconsciously smiling in response to the\ +Frenchman's smile, pressed the hand held out to him.\ +\ +"Captain Ramballe, of the 13th Light Regiment, Chevalier of the Legion\ +of Honor for the affair on the seventh of September," he introduced\ +himself, a self-satisfied irrepressible smile puckering his lips under\ +his mustache. "Will you now be so good as to tell me with whom I have\ +the honor of conversing so pleasantly, instead of being in the ambulance\ +with that maniac's bullet in my body?"\ +\ +Pierre replied that he could not tell him his name and, blushing, began\ +to try to invent a name and to say something about his reason for\ +concealing it, but the Frenchman hastily interrupted him.\ +\ +"Oh, please!" said he. "I understand your reasons. You are an officer...\ +a superior officer perhaps. You have borne arms against us. That's not\ +my business. I owe you my life. That is enough for me. I am quite at\ +your service. You belong to the gentry?" he concluded with a shade of\ +inquiry in his tone. Pierre bent his head. "Your baptismal name, if you\ +please. That is all I ask. Monsieur Pierre, you say.... That's all I\ +want to know."\ +\ +When the mutton and an omelet had been served and a samovar and vodka\ +brought, with some wine which the French had taken from a Russian cellar\ +and brought with them, Ramballe invited Pierre to share his dinner, and\ +himself began to eat greedily and quickly like a healthy and hungry man,\ +munching his food rapidly with his strong teeth, continually smacking\ +his lips, and repeating--"Excellent! Delicious!" His face grew red and\ +was covered with perspiration. Pierre was hungry and shared the dinner\ +with pleasure. Morel, the orderly, brought some hot water in a saucepan\ +and placed a bottle of claret in it. He also brought a bottle of kvass,\ +taken from the kitchen for them to try. That beverage was already known\ +to the French and had been given a special name. They called it limonade\ +de cochon (pig's lemonade), and Morel spoke well of the limonade de\ +cochon he had found in the kitchen. But as the captain had the wine they\ +had taken while passing through Moscow, he left the kvass to Morel and\ +applied himself to the bottle of Bordeaux. He wrapped the bottle up to\ +its neck in a table napkin and poured out wine for himself and for\ +Pierre. The satisfaction of his hunger and the wine rendered the captain\ +still more lively and he chatted incessantly all through dinner.\ +\ +"Yes, my dear Monsieur Pierre, I owe you a fine votive candle for saving\ +me from that maniac.... You see, I have bullets enough in my body\ +already. Here is one I got at Wagram" (he touched his side) "and a\ +second at Smolensk"--he showed a scar on his cheek--"and this leg which\ +as you see does not want to march, I got that on the seventh at the\ +great battle of la Moskowa. Sacre Dieu! It was splendid! That deluge of\ +fire was worth seeing. It was a tough job you set us there, my word! You\ +may be proud of it! And on my honor, in spite of the cough I caught\ +there, I should be ready to begin again. I pity those who did not see\ +it."\ +\ +"I was there," said Pierre.\ +\ +"Bah, really? So much the better! You are certainly brave foes. The\ +great redoubt held out well, by my pipe!" continued the Frenchman. "And\ +you made us pay dear for it. I was at it three times--sure as I sit\ +here. Three times we reached the guns and three times we were thrown\ +back like cardboard figures. Oh, it was beautiful, Monsieur Pierre! Your\ +grenadiers were splendid, by heaven! I saw them close up their ranks six\ +times in succession and march as if on parade. Fine fellows! Our King of\ +Naples, who knows what's what, cried 'Bravo!' Ha, ha! So you are one of\ +us soldiers!" he added, smiling, after a momentary pause. "So much the\ +better, so much the better, Monsieur Pierre! Terrible in battle...\ +gallant... with the fair" (he winked and smiled), "that's what the\ +French are, Monsieur Pierre, aren't they?"\ +\ +The captain was so naively and good-humoredly gay, so real, and so\ +pleased with himself that Pierre almost winked back as he looked merrily\ +at him. Probably the word "gallant" turned the captain's thoughts to the\ +state of Moscow.\ +\ +"Apropos, tell me please, is it true that the women have all left\ +Moscow? What a queer idea! What had they to be afraid of?"\ +\ +"Would not the French ladies leave Paris if the Russians entered it?"\ +asked Pierre.\ +\ +"Ha, ha, ha!" The Frenchman emitted a merry, sanguine chuckle, patting\ +Pierre on the shoulder. "What a thing to say!" he exclaimed. "Paris?...\ +But Paris, Paris..."\ +\ +"Paris--the capital of the world," Pierre finished his remark for him.\ +\ +The captain looked at Pierre. He had a habit of stopping short in the\ +middle of his talk and gazing intently with his laughing, kindly eyes.\ +\ +"Well, if you hadn't told me you were Russian, I should have wagered\ +that you were Parisian! You have that... I don't know what, that..." and\ +having uttered this compliment, he again gazed at him in silence.\ +\ +"I have been in Paris. I spent years there," said Pierre.\ +\ +"Oh yes, one sees that plainly. Paris!... A man who doesn't know Paris\ +is a savage. You can tell a Parisian two leagues off. Paris is Talma, la\ +Duchenois, Potier, the Sorbonne, the boulevards," and noticing that his\ +conclusion was weaker than what had gone before, he added quickly:\ +"There is only one Paris in the world. You have been to Paris and have\ +remained Russian. Well, I don't esteem you the less for it."\ +\ +Under the influence of the wine he had drunk, and after the days he had\ +spent alone with his depressing thoughts, Pierre involuntarily enjoyed\ +talking with this cheerful and good-natured man.\ +\ +"To return to your ladies--I hear they are lovely. What a wretched idea\ +to go and bury themselves in the steppes when the French army is in\ +Moscow. What a chance those girls have missed! Your peasants, now--\ +that's another thing; but you civilized people, you ought to know us\ +better than that. We took Vienna, Berlin, Madrid, Naples, Rome, Warsaw,\ +all the world's capitals.... We are feared, but we are loved. We are\ +nice to know. And then the Emperor..." he began, but Pierre interrupted\ +him.\ +\ +"The Emperor," Pierre repeated, and his face suddenly became sad and\ +embarrassed, "is the Emperor...?"\ +\ +"The Emperor? He is generosity, mercy, justice, order, genius--that's\ +what the Emperor is! It is I, Ramballe, who tell you so.... I assure you\ +I was his enemy eight years ago. My father was an emigrant count.... But\ +that man has vanquished me. He has taken hold of me. I could not resist\ +the sight of the grandeur and glory with which he has covered France.\ +When I understood what he wanted--when I saw that he was preparing a bed\ +of laurels for us, you know, I said to myself: 'That is a monarch,' and\ +I devoted myself to him! So there! Oh yes, mon cher, he is the greatest\ +man of the ages past or future."\ +\ +"Is he in Moscow?" Pierre stammered with a guilty look.\ +\ +The Frenchman looked at his guilty face and smiled.\ +\ +"No, he will make his entry tomorrow," he replied, and continued his\ +talk.\ +\ +Their conversation was interrupted by the cries of several voices at the\ +gate and by Morel, who came to say that some Wurttemberg hussars had\ +come and wanted to put up their horses in the yard where the captain's\ +horses were. This difficulty had arisen chiefly because the hussars did\ +not understand what was said to them in French.\ +\ +The captain had their senior sergeant called in, and in a stern voice\ +asked him to what regiment he belonged, who was his commanding officer,\ +and by what right he allowed himself to claim quarters that were already\ +occupied. The German who knew little French, answered the two first\ +questions by giving the names of his regiment and of his commanding\ +officer, but in reply to the third question which he did not understand\ +said, introducing broken French into his own German, that he was the\ +quartermaster of the regiment and his commander had ordered him to\ +occupy all the houses one after another. Pierre, who knew German,\ +translated what the German said to the captain and gave the captain's\ +reply to the Wurttemberg hussar in German. When he had understood what\ +was said to him, the German submitted and took his men elsewhere. The\ +captain went out into the porch and gave some orders in a loud voice.\ +\ +When he returned to the room Pierre was sitting in the same place as\ +before, with his head in his hands. His face expressed suffering. He\ +really was suffering at that moment. When the captain went out and he\ +was left alone, suddenly he came to himself and realized the position he\ +was in. It was not that Moscow had been taken or that the happy\ +conquerors were masters in it and were patronizing him. Painful as that\ +was it was not that which tormented Pierre at the moment. He was\ +tormented by the consciousness of his own weakness. The few glasses of\ +wine he had drunk and the conversation with this good-natured man had\ +destroyed the mood of concentrated gloom in which he had spent the last\ +few days and which was essential for the execution of his design. The\ +pistol, dagger, and peasant coat were ready. Napoleon was to enter the\ +town next day. Pierre still considered that it would be a useful and\ +worthy action to slay the evildoer, but now he felt that he would not do\ +it. He did not know why, but he felt a foreboding that he would not\ +carry out his intention. He struggled against the confession of his\ +weakness but dimly felt that he could not overcome it and that his\ +former gloomy frame of mind, concerning vengeance, killing, and self-\ +sacrifice, had been dispersed like dust by contact with the first man he\ +met.\ +\ +The captain returned to the room, limping slightly and whistling a tune.\ +\ +The Frenchman's chatter which had previously amused Pierre now repelled\ +him. The tune he was whistling, his gait, and the gesture with which he\ +twirled his mustache, all now seemed offensive. "I will go away\ +immediately. I won't say another word to him," thought Pierre. He\ +thought this, but still sat in the same place. A strange feeling of\ +weakness tied him to the spot; he wished to get up and go away, but\ +could not do so.\ +\ +The captain, on the other hand, seemed very cheerful. He paced up and\ +down the room twice. His eyes shone and his mustache twitched as if he\ +were smiling to himself at some amusing thought.\ +\ +"The colonel of those Wurttembergers is delightful," he suddenly said.\ +"He's a German, but a nice fellow all the same.... But he's a German."\ +He sat down facing Pierre. "By the way, you know German, then?"\ +\ +Pierre looked at him in silence.\ +\ +"What is the German for 'shelter'?"\ +\ +"Shelter?" Pierre repeated. "The German for shelter is Unterkunft."\ +\ +"How do you say it?" the captain asked quickly and doubtfully.\ +\ +"Unterkunft," Pierre repeated.\ +\ +"Onterkoff," said the captain and looked at Pierre for some seconds with\ +laughing eyes. "These Germans are first-rate fools, don't you think so,\ +Monsieur Pierre?" he concluded.\ +\ +"Well, let's have another bottle of this Moscow Bordeaux, shall we?\ +Morel will warm us up another little bottle. Morel!" he called out\ +gaily.\ +\ +Morel brought candles and a bottle of wine. The captain looked at Pierre\ +by the candlelight and was evidently struck by the troubled expression\ +on his companion's face. Ramballe, with genuine distress and sympathy in\ +his face, went up to Pierre and bent over him.\ +\ +"There now, we're sad," said he, touching Pierre's hand. "Have I upset\ +you? No, really, have you anything against me?" he asked Pierre.\ +"Perhaps it's the state of affairs?"\ +\ +Pierre did not answer, but looked cordially into the Frenchman's eyes\ +whose expression of sympathy was pleasing to him.\ +\ +"Honestly, without speaking of what I owe you, I feel friendship for\ +you. Can I do anything for you? Dispose of me. It is for life and death.\ +I say it with my hand on my heart!" said he, striking his chest.\ +\ +"Thank you," said Pierre.\ +\ +The captain gazed intently at him as he had done when he learned that\ +"shelter" was Unterkunft in German, and his face suddenly brightened.\ +\ +"Well, in that case, I drink to our friendship!" he cried gaily, filling\ +two glasses with wine.\ +\ +Pierre took one of the glasses and emptied it. Ramballe emptied his too,\ +again pressed Pierre's hand, and leaned his elbows on the table in a\ +pensive attitude.\ +\ +"Yes, my dear friend," he began, "such is fortune's caprice. Who would\ +have said that I should be a soldier and a captain of dragoons in the\ +service of Bonaparte, as we used to call him? Yet here I am in Moscow\ +with him. I must tell you, mon cher," he continued in the sad and\ +measured tones of a man who intends to tell a long story, "that our name\ +is one of the most ancient in France."\ +\ +And with a Frenchman's easy and naive frankness the captain told Pierre\ +the story of his ancestors, his childhood, youth, and manhood, and all\ +about his relations and his financial and family affairs, "ma pauvre\ +mere" playing of course an important part in the story.\ +\ +"But all that is only life's setting, the real thing is love--love! Am I\ +not right, Monsieur Pierre?" said he, growing animated. "Another glass?"\ +\ +Pierre again emptied his glass and poured himself out a third.\ +\ +"Oh, women, women!" and the captain, looking with glistening eyes at\ +Pierre, began talking of love and of his love affairs.\ +\ +There were very many of these, as one could easily believe, looking at\ +the officer's handsome, self-satisfied face, and noting the eager\ +enthusiasm with which he spoke of women. Though all Ramballe's love\ +stories had the sensual character which Frenchmen regard as the special\ +charm and poetry of love, yet he told his story with such sincere\ +conviction that he alone had experienced and known all the charm of love\ +and he described women so alluringly that Pierre listened to him with\ +curiosity.\ +\ +It was plain that l'amour which the Frenchman was so fond of was not\ +that low and simple kind that Pierre had once felt for his wife, nor was\ +it the romantic love stimulated by himself that he experienced for\ +Natasha. (Ramballe despised both these kinds of love equally: the one he\ +considered the "love of clodhoppers" and the other the "love of\ +simpletons.") L'amour which the Frenchman worshiped consisted\ +principally in the unnaturalness of his relation to the woman and in a\ +combination of incongruities giving the chief charm to the feeling.\ +\ +Thus the captain touchingly recounted the story of his love for a\ +fascinating marquise of thirty-five and at the same time for a charming,\ +innocent child of seventeen, daughter of the bewitching marquise. The\ +conflict of magnanimity between the mother and the daughter, ending in\ +the mother's sacrificing herself and offering her daughter in marriage\ +to her lover, even now agitated the captain, though it was the memory of\ +a distant past. Then he recounted an episode in which the husband played\ +the part of the lover, and he--the lover--assumed the role of the\ +husband, as well as several droll incidents from his recollections of\ +Germany, where "shelter" is called Unterkunft and where the husbands eat\ +sauerkraut and the young girls are "too blonde."\ +\ +Finally, the latest episode in Poland still fresh in the captain's\ +memory, and which he narrated with rapid gestures and glowing face, was\ +of how he had saved the life of a Pole (in general, the saving of life\ +continually occurred in the captain's stories) and the Pole had\ +entrusted to him his enchanting wife (parisienne de coeur) while himself\ +entering the French service. The captain was happy, the enchanting\ +Polish lady wished to elope with him, but, prompted by magnanimity, the\ +captain restored the wife to the husband, saying as he did so: "I have\ +saved your life, and I save your honor!" Having repeated these words the\ +captain wiped his eyes and gave himself a shake, as if driving away the\ +weakness which assailed him at this touching recollection.\ +\ +Listening to the captain's tales, Pierre--as often happens late in the\ +evening and under the influence of wine--followed all that was told him,\ +understood it all, and at the same time followed a train of personal\ +memories which, he knew not why, suddenly arose in his mind. While\ +listening to these love stories his own love for Natasha unexpectedly\ +rose to his mind, and going over the pictures of that love in his\ +imagination he mentally compared them with Ramballe's tales. Listening\ +to the story of the struggle between love and duty, Pierre saw before\ +his eyes every minutest detail of his last meeting with the object of\ +his love at the Sukharev water tower. At the time of that meeting it had\ +not produced an effect upon him--he had not even once recalled it. But\ +now it seemed to him that that meeting had had in it something very\ +important and poetic.\ +\ +"Peter Kirilovich, come here! We have recognized you," he now seemed to\ +hear the words she had uttered and to see before him her eyes, her\ +smile, her traveling hood, and a stray lock of her hair... and there\ +seemed to him something pathetic and touching in all this.\ +\ +Having finished his tale about the enchanting Polish lady, the captain\ +asked Pierre if he had ever experienced a similar impulse to sacrifice\ +himself for love and a feeling of envy of the legitimate husband.\ +\ +Challenged by this question Pierre raised his head and felt a need to\ +express the thoughts that filled his mind. He began to explain that he\ +understood love for a women somewhat differently. He said that in all\ +his life he had loved and still loved only one woman, and that she could\ +never be his.\ +\ +"Tiens!" said the captain.\ +\ +Pierre then explained that he had loved this woman from his earliest\ +years, but that he had not dared to think of her because she was too\ +young, and because he had been an illegitimate son without a name.\ +Afterwards when he had received a name and wealth he dared not think of\ +her because he loved her too well, placing her far above everything in\ +the world, and especially therefore above himself.\ +\ +When he had reached this point, Pierre asked the captain whether he\ +understood that.\ +\ +The captain made a gesture signifying that even if he did not understand\ +it he begged Pierre to continue.\ +\ +"Platonic love, clouds..." he muttered.\ +\ +Whether it was the wine he had drunk, or an impulse of frankness, or the\ +thought that this man did not, and never would, know any of those who\ +played a part in his story, or whether it was all these things together,\ +something loosened Pierre's tongue. Speaking thickly and with a faraway\ +look in his shining eyes, he told the whole story of his life: his\ +marriage, Natasha's love for his best friend, her betrayal of him, and\ +all his own simple relations with her. Urged on by Ramballe's questions\ +he also told what he had at first concealed--his own position and even\ +his name.\ +\ +More than anything else in Pierre's story the captain was impressed by\ +the fact that Pierre was very rich, had two mansions in Moscow, and that\ +he had abandoned everything and not left the city, but remained there\ +concealing his name and station.\ +\ +When it was late at night they went out together into the street. The\ +night was warm and light. To the left of the house on the Pokrovka a\ +fire glowed--the first of those that were beginning in Moscow. To the\ +right and high up in the sky was the sickle of the waning moon and\ +opposite to it hung that bright comet which was connected in Pierre's\ +heart with his love. At the gate stood Gerasim, the cook, and two\ +Frenchmen. Their laughter and their mutually incomprehensible remarks in\ +two languages could be heard. They were looking at the glow seen in the\ +town.\ +\ +There was nothing terrible in the one small, distant fire in the immense\ +city.\ +\ +Gazing at the high starry sky, at the moon, at the comet, and at the\ +glow from the fire, Pierre experienced a joyful emotion. "There now, how\ +good it is, what more does one need?" thought he. And suddenly\ +remembering his intention he grew dizzy and felt so faint that he leaned\ +against the fence to save himself from falling.\ +\ +Without taking leave of his new friend, Pierre left the gate with\ +unsteady steps and returning to his room lay down on the sofa and\ +immediately fell asleep.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XXX\ +\ +The glow of the first fire that began on the second of September was\ +watched from the various roads by the fugitive Muscovites and by the\ +retreating troops, with many different feelings.\ +\ +The Rostov party spent the night at Mytishchi, fourteen miles from\ +Moscow. They had started so late on the first of September, the road had\ +been so blocked by vehicles and troops, so many things had been\ +forgotten for which servants were sent back, that they had decided to\ +spend that night at a place three miles out of Moscow. The next morning\ +they woke late and were again delayed so often that they only got as far\ +as Great Mytishchi. At ten o'clock that evening the Rostov family and\ +the wounded traveling with them were all distributed in the yards and\ +huts of that large village. The Rostovs' servants and coachmen and the\ +orderlies of the wounded officers, after attending to their masters, had\ +supper, fed the horses, and came out into the porches.\ +\ +In a neighboring hut lay Raevski's adjutant with a fractured wrist. The\ +awful pain he suffered made him moan incessantly and piteously, and his\ +moaning sounded terrible in the darkness of the autumn night. He had\ +spent the first night in the same yard as the Rostovs. The countess said\ +she had been unable to close her eyes on account of his moaning, and at\ +Mytishchi she moved into a worse hut simply to be farther away from the\ +wounded man.\ +\ +In the darkness of the night one of the servants noticed, above the high\ +body of a coach standing before the porch, the small glow of another\ +fire. One glow had long been visible and everybody knew that it was\ +Little Mytishchi burning--set on fire by Mamonov's Cossacks.\ +\ +"But look here, brothers, there's another fire!" remarked an orderly.\ +\ +All turned their attention to the glow.\ +\ +"But they told us Little Mytishchi had been set on fire by Mamonov's\ +Cossacks."\ +\ +"But that's not Mytishchi, it's farther away."\ +\ +"Look, it must be in Moscow!"\ +\ +Two of the gazers went round to the other side of the coach and sat down\ +on its steps.\ +\ +"It's more to the left, why, Little Mytishchi is over there, and this is\ +right on the other side."\ +\ +Several men joined the first two.\ +\ +"See how it's flaring," said one. "That's a fire in Moscow: either in\ +the Sushchevski or the Rogozhski quarter."\ +\ +No one replied to this remark and for some time they all gazed silently\ +at the spreading flames of the second fire in the distance.\ +\ +Old Daniel Terentich, the count's valet (as he was called), came up to\ +the group and shouted at Mishka.\ +\ +"What are you staring at, you good-for-nothing?... The count will be\ +calling and there's nobody there; go and gather the clothes together."\ +\ +"I only ran out to get some water," said Mishka.\ +\ +"But what do you think, Daniel Terentich? Doesn't it look as if that\ +glow were in Moscow?" remarked one of the footmen.\ +\ +Daniel Terentich made no reply, and again for a long time they were all\ +silent. The glow spread, rising and falling, farther and farther still.\ +\ +"God have mercy.... It's windy and dry..." said another voice.\ +\ +"Just look! See what it's doing now. O Lord! You can even see the crows\ +flying. Lord have mercy on us sinners!"\ +\ +"They'll put it out, no fear!"\ +\ +"Who's to put it out?" Daniel Terentich, who had hitherto been silent,\ +was heard to say. His voice was calm and deliberate. "Moscow it is,\ +brothers," said he. "Mother Moscow, the white..." his voice faltered,\ +and he gave way to an old man's sob.\ +\ +And it was as if they had all only waited for this to realize the\ +significance for them of the glow they were watching. Sighs were heard,\ +words of prayer, and the sobbing of the count's old valet.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XXXI\ +\ +The valet, returning to the cottage, informed the count that Moscow was\ +burning. The count donned his dressing gown and went out to look. Sonya\ +and Madame Schoss, who had not yet undressed, went out with him. Only\ +Natasha and the countess remained in the room. Petya was no longer with\ +the family, he had gone on with his regiment which was making for\ +Troitsa.\ +\ +The countess, on hearing that Moscow was on fire, began to cry. Natasha,\ +pale, with a fixed look, was sitting on the bench under the icons just\ +where she had sat down on arriving and paid no attention to her father's\ +words. She was listening to the ceaseless moaning of the adjutant, three\ +houses off.\ +\ +"Oh, how terrible," said Sonya returning from the yard chilled and\ +frightened. "I believe the whole of Moscow will burn, there's an awful\ +glow! Natasha, do look! You can see it from the window," she said to her\ +cousin, evidently wishing to distract her mind.\ +\ +But Natasha looked at her as if not understanding what was said to her\ +and again fixed her eyes on the corner of the stove. She had been in\ +this condition of stupor since the morning, when Sonya, to the surprise\ +and annoyance of the countess, had for some unaccountable reason found\ +it necessary to tell Natasha of Prince Andrew's wound and of his being\ +with their party. The countess had seldom been so angry with anyone as\ +she was with Sonya. Sonya had cried and begged to be forgiven and now,\ +as if trying to atone for her fault, paid unceasing attention to her\ +cousin.\ +\ +"Look, Natasha, how dreadfully it is burning!" said she.\ +\ +"What's burning?" asked Natasha. "Oh, yes, Moscow."\ +\ +And as if in order not to offend Sonya and to get rid of her, she turned\ +her face to the window, looked out in such a way that it was evident\ +that she could not see anything, and again settled down in her former\ +attitude.\ +\ +"But you didn't see it!"\ +\ +"Yes, really I did," Natasha replied in a voice that pleaded to be left\ +in peace.\ +\ +Both the countess and Sonya understood that, naturally, neither Moscow\ +nor the burning of Moscow nor anything else could seem of importance to\ +Natasha.\ +\ +The count returned and lay down behind the partition. The countess went\ +up to her daughter and touched her head with the back of her hand as she\ +was wont to do when Natasha was ill, then touched her forehead with her\ +lips as if to feel whether she was feverish, and finally kissed her.\ +\ +"You are cold. You are trembling all over. You'd better lie down," said\ +the countess.\ +\ +"Lie down? All right, I will. I'll lie down at once," said Natasha.\ +\ +When Natasha had been told that morning that Prince Andrew was seriously\ +wounded and was traveling with their party, she had at first asked many\ +questions: Where was he going? How was he wounded? Was it serious? And\ +could she see him? But after she had been told that she could not see\ +him, that he was seriously wounded but that his life was not in danger,\ +she ceased to ask questions or to speak at all, evidently disbelieving\ +what they told her, and convinced that say what she might she would\ +still be told the same. All the way she had sat motionless in a corner\ +of the coach with wide open eyes, and the expression in them which the\ +countess knew so well and feared so much, and now she sat in the same\ +way on the bench where she had seated herself on arriving. She was\ +planning something and either deciding or had already decided something\ +in her mind. The countess knew this, but what it might be she did not\ +know, and this alarmed and tormented her.\ +\ +"Natasha, undress, darling; lie down on my bed."\ +\ +A bed had been made on a bedstead for the countess only. Madame Schoss\ +and the two girls were to sleep on some hay on the floor.\ +\ +"No, Mamma, I will lie down here on the floor," Natasha replied\ +irritably and she went to the window and opened it. Through the open\ +window the moans of the adjutant could be heard more distinctly. She put\ +her head out into the damp night air, and the countess saw her slim neck\ +shaking with sobs and throbbing against the window frame. Natasha knew\ +it was not Prince Andrew who was moaning. She knew Prince Andrew was in\ +the same yard as themselves and in a part of the hut across the passage;\ +but this dreadful incessant moaning made her sob. The countess exchanged\ +a look with Sonya.\ +\ +"Lie down, darling; lie down, my pet," said the countess, softly\ +touching Natasha's shoulders. "Come, lie down."\ +\ +"Oh, yes... I'll lie down at once," said Natasha, and began hurriedly\ +undressing, tugging at the tapes of her petticoat.\ +\ +When she had thrown off her dress and put on a dressing jacket, she sat\ +down with her foot under her on the bed that had been made up on the\ +floor, jerked her thin and rather short plait of hair to the front, and\ +began replaiting it. Her long, thin, practiced fingers rapidly\ +unplaited, replaited, and tied up her plait. Her head moved from side to\ +side from habit, but her eyes, feverishly wide, looked fixedly before\ +her. When her toilet for the night was finished she sank gently onto the\ +sheet spread over the hay on the side nearest the door.\ +\ +"Natasha, you'd better lie in the middle," said Sonya.\ +\ +"I'll stay here," muttered Natasha. "Do lie down," she added crossly,\ +and buried her face in the pillow.\ +\ +The countess, Madame Schoss, and Sonya undressed hastily and lay down.\ +The small lamp in front of the icons was the only light left in the\ +room. But in the yard there was a light from the fire at Little\ +Mytishchi a mile and a half away, and through the night came the noise\ +of people shouting at a tavern Mamonov's Cossacks had set up across the\ +street, and the adjutant's unceasing moans could still be heard.\ +\ +For a long time Natasha listened attentively to the sounds that reached\ +her from inside and outside the room and did not move. First she heard\ +her mother praying and sighing and the creaking of her bed under her,\ +then Madame Schoss' familiar whistling snore and Sonya's gentle\ +breathing. Then the countess called to Natasha. Natasha did not answer.\ +\ +"I think she's asleep, Mamma," said Sonya softly.\ +\ +After a short silence the countess spoke again but this time no one\ +replied.\ +\ +Soon after that Natasha heard her mother's even breathing. Natasha did\ +not move, though her little bare foot, thrust out from under the quilt,\ +was growing cold on the bare floor.\ +\ +As if to celebrate a victory over everybody, a cricket chirped in a\ +crack in the wall. A cock crowed far off and another replied near by.\ +The shouting in the tavern had died down; only the moaning of the\ +adjutant was heard. Natasha sat up.\ +\ +"Sonya, are you asleep? Mamma?" she whispered.\ +\ +No one replied. Natasha rose slowly and carefully, crossed herself, and\ +stepped cautiously on the cold and dirty floor with her slim, supple,\ +bare feet. The boards of the floor creaked. Stepping cautiously from one\ +foot to the other she ran like a kitten the few steps to the door and\ +grasped the cold door handle.\ +\ +It seemed to her that something heavy was beating rhythmically against\ +all the walls of the room: it was her own heart, sinking with alarm and\ +terror and overflowing with love.\ +\ +She opened the door and stepped across the threshold and onto the cold,\ +damp earthen floor of the passage. The cold she felt refreshed her. With\ +her bare feet she touched a sleeping man, stepped over him, and opened\ +the door into the part of the hut where Prince Andrew lay. It was dark\ +in there. In the farthest corner, on a bench beside a bed on which\ +something was lying, stood a tallow candle with a long, thick, and\ +smoldering wick.\ +\ +From the moment she had been told that morning of Prince Andrew's wound\ +and his presence there, Natasha had resolved to see him. She did not\ +know why she had to, she knew the meeting would be painful, but felt the\ +more convinced that it was necessary.\ +\ +All day she had lived only in hope of seeing him that night. But now\ +that the moment had come she was filled with dread of what she might\ +see. How was he maimed? What was left of him? Was he like that incessant\ +moaning of the adjutant's? Yes, he was altogether like that. In her\ +imagination he was that terrible moaning personified. When she saw an\ +indistinct shape in the corner, and mistook his knees raised under the\ +quilt for his shoulders, she imagined a horrible body there, and stood\ +still in terror. But an irresistible impulse drew her forward. She\ +cautiously took one step and then another, and found herself in the\ +middle of a small room containing baggage. Another man--Timokhin--was\ +lying in a corner on the benches beneath the icons, and two others--the\ +doctor and a valet--lay on the floor.\ +\ +The valet sat up and whispered something. Timokhin, kept awake by the\ +pain in his wounded leg, gazed with wide-open eyes at this strange\ +apparition of a girl in a white chemise, dressing jacket, and nightcap.\ +The valet's sleepy, frightened exclamation, "What do you want? What's\ +the matter?" made Natasha approach more swiftly to what was lying in the\ +corner. Horribly unlike a man as that body looked, she must see him. She\ +passed the valet, the snuff fell from the candle wick, and she saw\ +Prince Andrew clearly with his arms outside the quilt, and such as she\ +had always seen him.\ +\ +He was the same as ever, but the feverish color of his face, his\ +glittering eyes rapturously turned toward her, and especially his neck,\ +delicate as a child's, revealed by the turn-down collar of his shirt,\ +gave him a peculiarly innocent, childlike look, such as she had never\ +seen on him before. She went up to him and with a swift, flexible,\ +youthful movement dropped on her knees.\ +\ +He smiled and held out his hand to her.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XXXII\ +\ +Seven days had passed since Prince Andrew found himself in the ambulance\ +station on the field of Borodino. His feverish state and the\ +inflammation of his bowels, which were injured, were in the doctor's\ +opinion sure to carry him off. But on the seventh day he ate with\ +pleasure a piece of bread with some tea, and the doctor noticed that his\ +temperature was lower. He had regained consciousness that morning. The\ +first night after they left Moscow had been fairly warm and he had\ +remained in the caleche, but at Mytishchi the wounded man himself asked\ +to be taken out and given some tea. The pain caused by his removal into\ +the hut had made him groan aloud and again lose consciousness. When he\ +had been placed on his camp bed he lay for a long time motionless with\ +closed eyes. Then he opened them and whispered softly: "And the tea?"\ +His remembering such a small detail of everyday life astonished the\ +doctor. He felt Prince Andrew's pulse, and to his surprise and\ +dissatisfaction found it had improved. He was dissatisfied because he\ +knew by experience that if his patient did not die now, he would do so a\ +little later with greater suffering. Timokhin, the red-nosed major of\ +Prince Andrew's regiment, had joined him in Moscow and was being taken\ +along with him, having been wounded in the leg at the battle of\ +Borodino. They were accompanied by a doctor, Prince Andrew's valet, his\ +coachman, and two orderlies.\ +\ +They gave Prince Andrew some tea. He drank it eagerly, looking with\ +feverish eyes at the door in front of him as if trying to understand and\ +remember something.\ +\ +"I don't want any more. Is Timokhin here?" he asked.\ +\ +Timokhin crept along the bench to him.\ +\ +"I am here, your excellency."\ +\ +"How's your wound?"\ +\ +"Mine, sir? All right. But how about you?"\ +\ +Prince Andrew again pondered as if trying to remember something.\ +\ +"Couldn't one get a book?" he asked.\ +\ +"What book?"\ +\ +"The Gospels. I haven't one."\ +\ +The doctor promised to procure it for him and began to ask how he was\ +feeling. Prince Andrew answered all his questions reluctantly but\ +reasonably, and then said he wanted a bolster placed under him as he was\ +uncomfortable and in great pain. The doctor and valet lifted the cloak\ +with which he was covered and, making wry faces at the noisome smell of\ +mortifying flesh that came from the wound, began examining that dreadful\ +place. The doctor was very much displeased about something and made a\ +change in the dressings, turning the wounded man over so that he groaned\ +again and grew unconscious and delirious from the agony. He kept asking\ +them to get him the book and put it under him.\ +\ +"What trouble would it be to you?" he said. "I have not got one. Please\ +get it for me and put it under for a moment," he pleaded in a piteous\ +voice.\ +\ +The doctor went into the passage to wash his hands.\ +\ +"You fellows have no conscience," said he to the valet who was pouring\ +water over his hands. "For just one moment I didn't look after you...\ +It's such pain, you know, that I wonder how he can bear it."\ +\ +"By the Lord Jesus Christ, I thought we had put something under him!"\ +said the valet.\ +\ +The first time Prince Andrew understood where he was and what was the\ +matter with him and remembered being wounded and how was when he asked\ +to be carried into the hut after his caleche had stopped at Mytishchi.\ +After growing confused from pain while being carried into the hut he\ +again regained consciousness, and while drinking tea once more recalled\ +all that had happened to him, and above all vividly remembered the\ +moment at the ambulance station when, at the sight of the sufferings of\ +a man he disliked, those new thoughts had come to him which promised him\ +happiness. And those thoughts, though now vague and indefinite, again\ +possessed his soul. He remembered that he had now a new source of\ +happiness and that this happiness had something to do with the Gospels.\ +That was why he asked for a copy of them. The uncomfortable position in\ +which they had put him and turned him over again confused his thoughts,\ +and when he came to himself a third time it was in the complete\ +stillness of the night. Everybody near him was sleeping. A cricket\ +chirped from across the passage; someone was shouting and singing in the\ +street; cockroaches rustled on the table, on the icons, and on the\ +walls, and a big fly flopped at the head of the bed and around the\ +candle beside him, the wick of which was charred and had shaped itself\ +like a mushroom.\ +\ +His mind was not in a normal state. A healthy man usually thinks of,\ +feels, and remembers innumerable things simultaneously, but has the\ +power and will to select one sequence of thoughts or events on which to\ +fix his whole attention. A healthy man can tear himself away from the\ +deepest reflections to say a civil word to someone who comes in and can\ +then return again to his own thoughts. But Prince Andrew's mind was not\ +in a normal state in that respect. All the powers of his mind were more\ +active and clearer than ever, but they acted apart from his will. Most\ +diverse thoughts and images occupied him simultaneously. At times his\ +brain suddenly began to work with a vigor, clearness, and depth it had\ +never reached when he was in health, but suddenly in the midst of its\ +work it would turn to some unexpected idea and he had not the strength\ +to turn it back again.\ +\ +"Yes, a new happiness was revealed to me of which man cannot be\ +deprived," he thought as he lay in the semidarkness of the quiet hut,\ +gazing fixedly before him with feverish wide open eyes. "A happiness\ +lying beyond material forces, outside the material influences that act\ +on man--a happiness of the soul alone, the happiness of loving. Every\ +man can understand it, but to conceive it and enjoin it was possible\ +only for God. But how did God enjoin that law? And why was the Son...?"\ +\ +And suddenly the sequence of these thoughts broke off, and Prince Andrew\ +heard (without knowing whether it was a delusion or reality) a soft\ +whispering voice incessantly and rhythmically repeating "piti-piti-\ +piti," and then "titi," and then again "piti-piti-piti," and "ti-ti"\ +once more. At the same time he felt that above his face, above the very\ +middle of it, some strange airy structure was being erected out of\ +slender needles or splinters, to the sound of this whispered music. He\ +felt that he had to balance carefully (though it was difficult) so that\ +this airy structure should not collapse; but nevertheless it kept\ +collapsing and again slowly rising to the sound of whispered rhythmic\ +music--"it stretches, stretches, spreading out and stretching," said\ +Prince Andrew to himself. While listening to this whispering and feeling\ +the sensation of this drawing out and the construction of this edifice\ +of needles, he also saw by glimpses a red halo round the candle, and\ +heard the rustle of the cockroaches and the buzzing of the fly that\ +flopped against his pillow and his face. Each time the fly touched his\ +face it gave him a burning sensation and yet to his surprise it did not\ +destroy the structure, though it knocked against the very region of his\ +face where it was rising. But besides this there was something else of\ +importance. It was something white by the door--the statue of a sphinx,\ +which also oppressed him.\ +\ +"But perhaps that's my shirt on the table," he thought, "and that's my\ +legs, and that is the door, but why is it always stretching and drawing\ +itself out, and 'piti-piti-piti' and 'ti-ti' and 'piti-piti-piti'...?\ +That's enough, please leave off!" Prince Andrew painfully entreated\ +someone. And suddenly thoughts and feelings again swam to the surface of\ +his mind with peculiar clearness and force.\ +\ +"Yes--love," he thought again quite clearly. "But not love which loves\ +for something, for some quality, for some purpose, or for some reason,\ +but the love which I--while dying--first experienced when I saw my enemy\ +and yet loved him. I experienced that feeling of love which is the very\ +essence of the soul and does not require an object. Now again I feel\ +that bliss. To love one's neighbors, to love one's enemies, to love\ +everything, to love God in all His manifestations. It is possible to\ +love someone dear to you with human love, but an enemy can only be loved\ +by divine love. That is why I experienced such joy when I felt that I\ +loved that man. What has become of him? Is he alive?...\ +\ +"When loving with human love one may pass from love to hatred, but\ +divine love cannot change. No, neither death nor anything else can\ +destroy it. It is the very essence of the soul. Yet how many people have\ +I hated in my life? And of them all, I loved and hated none as I did\ +her." And he vividly pictured to himself Natasha, not as he had done in\ +the past with nothing but her charms which gave him delight, but for the\ +first time picturing to himself her soul. And he understood her\ +feelings, her sufferings, shame, and remorse. He now understood for the\ +first time all the cruelty of his rejection of her, the cruelty of his\ +rupture with her. "If only it were possible for me to see her once more!\ +Just once, looking into those eyes to say..."\ +\ +"Piti-piti-piti and ti-ti and piti-piti-piti boom!" flopped the fly...\ +And his attention was suddenly carried into another world, a world of\ +reality and delirium in which something particular was happening. In\ +that world some structure was still being erected and did not fall,\ +something was still stretching out, and the candle with its red halo was\ +still burning, and the same shirtlike sphinx lay near the door; but\ +besides all this something creaked, there was a whiff of fresh air, and\ +a new white sphinx appeared, standing at the door. And that sphinx had\ +the pale face and shining eyes of the very Natasha of whom he had just\ +been thinking.\ +\ +"Oh, how oppressive this continual delirium is," thought Prince Andrew,\ +trying to drive that face from his imagination. But the face remained\ +before him with the force of reality and drew nearer. Prince Andrew\ +wished to return to that former world of pure thought, but he could not,\ +and delirium drew him back into its domain. The soft whispering voice\ +continued its rhythmic murmur, something oppressed him and stretched\ +out, and the strange face was before him. Prince Andrew collected all\ +his strength in an effort to recover his senses, he moved a little, and\ +suddenly there was a ringing in his ears, a dimness in his eyes, and\ +like a man plunged into water he lost consciousness. When he came to\ +himself, Natasha, that same living Natasha whom of all people he most\ +longed to love with this new pure divine love that had been revealed to\ +him, was kneeling before him. He realized that it was the real living\ +Natasha, and he was not surprised but quietly happy. Natasha, motionless\ +on her knees (she was unable to stir), with frightened eyes riveted on\ +him, was restraining her sobs. Her face was pale and rigid. Only in the\ +lower part of it something quivered.\ +\ +Prince Andrew sighed with relief, smiled, and held out his hand.\ +\ +"You?" he said. "How fortunate!"\ +\ +With a rapid but careful movement Natasha drew nearer to him on her\ +knees and, taking his hand carefully, bent her face over it and began\ +kissing it, just touching it lightly with her lips.\ +\ +"Forgive me!" she whispered, raising her head and glancing at him.\ +"Forgive me!"\ +\ +"I love you," said Prince Andrew.\ +\ +"Forgive...!"\ +\ +"Forgive what?" he asked.\ +\ +"Forgive me for what I ha-ve do-ne!" faltered Natasha in a scarcely\ +audible, broken whisper, and began kissing his hand more rapidly, just\ +touching it with her lips.\ +\ +"I love you more, better than before," said Prince Andrew, lifting her\ +face with his hand so as to look into her eyes.\ +\ +Those eyes, filled with happy tears, gazed at him timidly,\ +compassionately, and with joyous love. Natasha's thin pale face, with\ +its swollen lips, was more than plain--it was dreadful. But Prince\ +Andrew did not see that, he saw her shining eyes which were beautiful.\ +They heard the sound of voices behind them.\ +\ +Peter the valet, who was now wide awake, had roused the doctor.\ +Timokhin, who had not slept at all because of the pain in his leg, had\ +long been watching all that was going on, carefully covering his bare\ +body with the sheet as he huddled up on his bench.\ +\ +"What's this?" said the doctor, rising from his bed. "Please go away,\ +madam!"\ +\ +At that moment a maid sent by the countess, who had noticed her\ +daughter's absence, knocked at the door.\ +\ +Like a somnambulist aroused from her sleep Natasha went out of the room\ +and, returning to her hut, fell sobbing on her bed.\ +\ +From that time, during all the rest of the Rostovs' journey, at every\ +halting place and wherever they spent a night, Natasha never left the\ +wounded Bolkonski, and the doctor had to admit that he had not expected\ +from a young girl either such firmness or such skill in nursing a\ +wounded man.\ +\ +Dreadful as the countess imagined it would be should Prince Andrew die\ +in her daughter's arms during the journey--as, judging by what the\ +doctor said, it seemed might easily happen--she could not oppose\ +Natasha. Though with the intimacy now established between the wounded\ +man and Natasha the thought occurred that should he recover their former\ +engagement would be renewed, no one--least of all Natasha and Prince\ +Andrew--spoke of this: the unsettled question of life and death, which\ +hung not only over Bolkonski but over all Russia, shut out all other\ +considerations.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XXXIII\ +\ +On the third of September Pierre awoke late. His head was aching, the\ +clothes in which he had slept without undressing felt uncomfortable on\ +his body, and his mind had a dim consciousness of something shameful he\ +had done the day before. That something shameful was his yesterday's\ +conversation with Captain Ramballe.\ +\ +It was eleven by the clock, but it seemed peculiarly dark out of doors.\ +Pierre rose, rubbed his eyes, and seeing the pistol with an engraved\ +stock which Gerasim had replaced on the writing table, he remembered\ +where he was and what lay before him that very day.\ +\ +"Am I not too late?" he thought. "No, probably he won't make his entry\ +into Moscow before noon."\ +\ +Pierre did not allow himself to reflect on what lay before him, but\ +hastened to act.\ +\ +After arranging his clothes, he took the pistol and was about to go out.\ +But it then occurred to him for the first time that he certainly could\ +not carry the weapon in his hand through the streets. It was difficult\ +to hide such a big pistol even under his wide coat. He could not carry\ +it unnoticed in his belt or under his arm. Besides, it had been\ +discharged, and he had not had time to reload it. "No matter, dagger\ +will do," he said to himself, though when planning his design he had\ +more than once come to the conclusion that the chief mistake made by the\ +student in 1809 had been to try to kill Napoleon with a dagger. But as\ +his chief aim consisted not in carrying out his design, but in proving\ +to himself that he would not abandon his intention and was doing all he\ +could to achieve it, Pierre hastily took the blunt jagged dagger in a\ +green sheath which he had bought at the Sukharev market with the pistol,\ +and hid it under his waistcoat.\ +\ +Having tied a girdle over his coat and pulled his cap low on his head,\ +Pierre went down the corridor, trying to avoid making a noise or meeting\ +the captain, and passed out into the street.\ +\ +The conflagration, at which he had looked with so much indifference the\ +evening before, had greatly increased during the night. Moscow was on\ +fire in several places. The buildings in Carriage Row, across the river,\ +in the Bazaar and the Povarskoy, as well as the barges on the Moskva\ +River and the timber yards by the Dorogomilov Bridge, were all ablaze.\ +\ +Pierre's way led through side streets to the Povarskoy and from there to\ +the church of St. Nicholas on the Arbat, where he had long before\ +decided that the deed should be done. The gates of most of the houses\ +were locked and the shutters up. The streets and lanes were deserted.\ +The air was full of smoke and the smell of burning. Now and then he met\ +Russians with anxious and timid faces, and Frenchmen with an air not of\ +the city but of the camp, walking in the middle of the streets. Both the\ +Russians and the French looked at Pierre with surprise. Besides his\ +height and stoutness, and the strange morose look of suffering in his\ +face and whole figure, the Russians stared at Pierre because they could\ +not make out to what class he could belong. The French followed him with\ +astonishment in their eyes chiefly because Pierre, unlike all the other\ +Russians who gazed at the French with fear and curiosity, paid no\ +attention to them. At the gate of one house three Frenchmen, who were\ +explaining something to some Russians who did not understand them,\ +stopped Pierre asking if he did not know French.\ +\ +Pierre shook his head and went on. In another side street a sentinel\ +standing beside a green caisson shouted at him, but only when the shout\ +was threateningly repeated and he heard the click of the man's musket as\ +he raised it did Pierre understand that he had to pass on the other side\ +of the street. He heard nothing and saw nothing of what went on around\ +him. He carried his resolution within himself in terror and haste, like\ +something dreadful and alien to him, for, after the previous night's\ +experience, he was afraid of losing it. But he was not destined to bring\ +his mood safely to his destination. And even had he not been hindered by\ +anything on the way, his intention could not now have been carried out,\ +for Napoleon had passed the Arbat more than four hours previously on his\ +way from the Dorogomilov suburb to the Kremlin, and was now sitting in a\ +very gloomy frame of mind in a royal study in the Kremlin, giving\ +detailed and exact orders as to measures to be taken immediately to\ +extinguish the fire, to prevent looting, and to reassure the\ +inhabitants. But Pierre did not know this; he was entirely absorbed in\ +what lay before him, and was tortured--as those are who obstinately\ +undertake a task that is impossible for them not because of its\ +difficulty but because of its incompatibility with their natures--by the\ +fear of weakening at the decisive moment and so losing his self-esteem.\ +\ +Though he heard and saw nothing around him he found his way by instinct\ +and did not go wrong in the side streets that led to the Povarskoy.\ +\ +As Pierre approached that street the smoke became denser and denser--he\ +even felt the heat of the fire. Occasionally curly tongues of flame rose\ +from under the roofs of the houses. He met more people in the streets\ +and they were more excited. But Pierre, though he felt that something\ +unusual was happening around him, did not realize that he was\ +approaching the fire. As he was going along a foot path across a wide-\ +open space adjoining the Povarskoy on one side and the gardens of Prince\ +Gruzinski's house on the other, Pierre suddenly heard the desperate\ +weeping of a woman close to him. He stopped as if awakening from a dream\ +and lifted his head.\ +\ +By the side of the path, on the dusty dry grass, all sorts of household\ +goods lay in a heap: featherbeds, a samovar, icons, and trunks. On the\ +ground, beside the trunks, sat a thin woman no longer young, with long,\ +prominent upper teeth, and wearing a black cloak and cap. This woman,\ +swaying to and fro and muttering something, was choking with sobs. Two\ +girls of about ten and twelve, dressed in dirty short frocks and cloaks,\ +were staring at their mother with a look of stupefaction on their pale\ +frightened faces. The youngest child, a boy of about seven, who wore an\ +overcoat and an immense cap evidently not his own, was crying in his old\ +nurse's arms. A dirty, barefooted maid was sitting on a trunk, and,\ +having undone her pale-colored plait, was pulling it straight and\ +sniffing at her singed hair. The woman's husband, a short, round-\ +shouldered man in the undress uniform of a civilian official, with\ +sausage-shaped whiskers and showing under his square-set cap the hair\ +smoothly brushed forward over his temples, with expressionless face was\ +moving the trunks, which were placed one on another, and was dragging\ +some garments from under them.\ +\ +As soon as she saw Pierre, the woman almost threw herself at his feet.\ +\ +"Dear people, good Christians, save me, help me, dear friends... help\ +us, somebody," she muttered between her sobs. "My girl... My daughter!\ +My youngest daughter is left behind. She's burned! Ooh! Was it for this\ +I nursed you.... Ooh!"\ +\ +"Don't, Mary Nikolievna!" said her husband to her in a low voice,\ +evidently only to justify himself before the stranger. "Sister must have\ +taken her, or else where can she be?" he added.\ +\ +"Monster! Villain!" shouted the woman angrily, suddenly ceasing to weep.\ +"You have no heart, you don't feel for your own child! Another man would\ +have rescued her from the fire. But this is a monster and neither a man\ +nor a father! You, honored sir, are a noble man," she went on,\ +addressing Pierre rapidly between her sobs. "The fire broke out\ +alongside, and blew our way, the maid called out 'Fire!' and we rushed\ +to collect our things. We ran out just as we were.... This is what we\ +have brought away.... The icons, and my dowry bed, all the rest is lost.\ +We seized the children. But not Katie! Ooh! O Lord!..." and again she\ +began to sob. "My child, my dear one! Burned, burned!"\ +\ +"But where was she left?" asked Pierre.\ +\ +From the expression of his animated face the woman saw that this man\ +might help her.\ +\ +"Oh, dear sir!" she cried, seizing him by the legs. "My benefactor, set\ +my heart at ease.... Aniska, go, you horrid girl, show him the way!" she\ +cried to the maid, angrily opening her mouth and still farther exposing\ +her long teeth.\ +\ +"Show me the way, show me, I... I'll do it," gasped Pierre rapidly.\ +\ +The dirty maidservant stepped from behind the trunk, put up her plait,\ +sighed, and went on her short, bare feet along the path. Pierre felt as\ +if he had come back to life after a heavy swoon. He held his head\ +higher, his eyes shone with the light of life, and with swift steps he\ +followed the maid, overtook her, and came out on the Povarskoy. The\ +whole street was full of clouds of black smoke. Tongues of flame here\ +and there broke through that cloud. A great number of people crowded in\ +front of the conflagration. In the middle of the street stood a French\ +general saying something to those around him. Pierre, accompanied by the\ +maid, was advancing to the spot where the general stood, but the French\ +soldiers stopped him.\ +\ +"On ne passe pas!" * cried a voice.\ +\ +\ +* "You can't pass!"\ +\ +"This way, uncle," cried the girl. "We'll pass through the side street,\ +by the Nikulins'!"\ +\ +Pierre turned back, giving a spring now and then to keep up with her.\ +She ran across the street, turned down a side street to the left, and,\ +passing three houses, turned into a yard on the right.\ +\ +"It's here, close by," said she and, running across the yard, opened a\ +gate in a wooden fence and, stopping, pointed out to him a small wooden\ +wing of the house, which was burning brightly and fiercely. One of its\ +sides had fallen in, another was on fire, and bright flames issued from\ +the openings of the windows and from under the roof.\ +\ +As Pierre passed through the fence gate, he was enveloped by hot air and\ +involuntarily stopped.\ +\ +"Which is it? Which is your house?" he asked.\ +\ +"Ooh!" wailed the girl, pointing to the wing. "That's it, that was our\ +lodging. You've burned to death, our treasure, Katie, my precious little\ +missy! Ooh!" lamented Aniska, who at the sight of the fire felt that she\ +too must give expression to her feelings.\ +\ +Pierre rushed to the wing, but the heat was so great that he\ +involuntarily passed round in a curve and came upon the large house that\ +was as yet burning only at one end, just below the roof, and around\ +which swarmed a crowd of Frenchmen. At first Pierre did not realize what\ +these men, who were dragging something out, were about; but seeing\ +before him a Frenchman hitting a peasant with a blunt saber and trying\ +to take from him a fox-fur coat, he vaguely understood that looting was\ +going on there, but he had no time to dwell on that idea.\ +\ +The sounds of crackling and the din of falling walls and ceilings, the\ +whistle and hiss of the flames, the excited shouts of the people, and\ +the sight of the swaying smoke, now gathering into thick black clouds\ +and now soaring up with glittering sparks, with here and there dense\ +sheaves of flame (now red and now like golden fish scales creeping along\ +the walls), and the heat and smoke and rapidity of motion, produced on\ +Pierre the usual animating effects of a conflagration. It had a\ +peculiarly strong effect on him because at the sight of the fire he felt\ +himself suddenly freed from the ideas that had weighed him down. He felt\ +young, bright, adroit, and resolute. He ran round to the other side of\ +the lodge and was about to dash into that part of it which was still\ +standing, when just above his head he heard several voices shouting and\ +then a cracking sound and the ring of something heavy falling close\ +beside him.\ +\ +Pierre looked up and saw at a window of the large house some Frenchmen\ +who had just thrown out the drawer of a chest, filled with metal\ +articles. Other French soldiers standing below went up to the drawer.\ +\ +"What does this fellow want?" shouted one of them referring to Pierre.\ +\ +"There's a child in that house. Haven't you seen a child?" cried Pierre.\ +\ +"What's he talking about? Get along!" said several voices, and one of\ +the soldiers, evidently afraid that Pierre might want to take from them\ +some of the plate and bronzes that were in the drawer, moved\ +threateningly toward him.\ +\ +"A child?" shouted a Frenchman from above. "I did hear something\ +squealing in the garden. Perhaps it's his brat that the fellow is\ +looking for. After all, one must be human, you know...."\ +\ +"Where is it? Where?" said Pierre.\ +\ +"There! There!" shouted the Frenchman at the window, pointing to the\ +garden at the back of the house. "Wait a bit--I'm coming down."\ +\ +And a minute or two later the Frenchman, a black-eyed fellow with a spot\ +on his cheek, in shirt sleeves, really did jump out of a window on the\ +ground floor, and clapping Pierre on the shoulder ran with him into the\ +garden.\ +\ +"Hurry up, you others!" he called out to his comrades. "It's getting\ +hot."\ +\ +When they reached a gravel path behind the house the Frenchman pulled\ +Pierre by the arm and pointed to a round, graveled space where a three-\ +year-old girl in a pink dress was lying under a seat.\ +\ +"There is your child! Oh, a girl, so much the better!" said the\ +Frenchman. "Good-bye, Fatty. We must be human, we are all mortal you\ +know!" and the Frenchman with the spot on his cheek ran back to his\ +comrades.\ +\ +Breathless with joy, Pierre ran to the little girl and was going to take\ +her in his arms. But seeing a stranger the sickly, scrofulous-looking\ +child, unattractively like her mother, began to yell and run away.\ +Pierre, however, seized her and lifted her in his arms. She screamed\ +desperately and angrily and tried with her little hands to pull Pierre's\ +hands away and to bite them with her slobbering mouth. Pierre was seized\ +by a sense of horror and repulsion such as he had experienced when\ +touching some nasty little animal. But he made an effort not to throw\ +the child down and ran with her to the large house. It was now, however,\ +impossible to get back the way he had come; the maid, Aniska, was no\ +longer there, and Pierre with a feeling of pity and disgust pressed the\ +wet, painfully sobbing child to himself as tenderly as he could and ran\ +with her through the garden seeking another way out.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XXXIV\ +\ +Having run through different yards and side streets, Pierre got back\ +with his little burden to the Gruzinski garden at the corner of the\ +Povarskoy. He did not at first recognize the place from which he had set\ +out to look for the child, so crowded was it now with people and goods\ +that had been dragged out of the houses. Besides Russian families who\ +had taken refuge here from the fire with their belongings, there were\ +several French soldiers in a variety of clothing. Pierre took no notice\ +of them. He hurried to find the family of that civil servant in order to\ +restore the daughter to her mother and go to save someone else. Pierre\ +felt that he had still much to do and to do quickly. Glowing with the\ +heat and from running, he felt at that moment more strongly than ever\ +the sense of youth, animation, and determination that had come on him\ +when he ran to save the child. She had now become quiet and, clinging\ +with her little hands to Pierre's coat, sat on his arm gazing about her\ +like some little wild animal. He glanced at her occasionally with a\ +slight smile. He fancied he saw something pathetically innocent in that\ +frightened, sickly little face.\ +\ +He did not find the civil servant or his wife where he had left them. He\ +walked among the crowd with rapid steps, scanning the various faces he\ +met. Involuntarily he noticed a Georgian or Armenian family consisting\ +of a very handsome old man of Oriental type, wearing a new, cloth-\ +covered, sheepskin coat and new boots, an old woman of similar type, and\ +a young woman. That very young woman seemed to Pierre the perfection of\ +Oriental beauty, with her sharply outlined, arched, black eyebrows and\ +the extraordinarily soft, bright color of her long, beautiful,\ +expressionless face. Amid the scattered property and the crowd on the\ +open space, she, in her rich satin cloak with a bright lilac shawl on\ +her head, suggested a delicate exotic plant thrown out onto the snow.\ +She was sitting on some bundles a little behind the old woman, and\ +looked from under her long lashes with motionless, large, almond-shaped\ +eyes at the ground before her. Evidently she was aware of her beauty and\ +fearful because of it. Her face struck Pierre and, hurrying along by the\ +fence, he turned several times to look at her. When he had reached the\ +fence, still without finding those he sought, he stopped and looked\ +about him.\ +\ +With the child in his arms his figure was now more conspicuous than\ +before, and a group of Russians, both men and women, gathered about him.\ +\ +"Have you lost anyone, my dear fellow? You're of the gentry yourself,\ +aren't you? Whose child is it?" they asked him.\ +\ +Pierre replied that the child belonged to a woman in a black coat who\ +had been sitting there with her other children, and he asked whether\ +anyone knew where she had gone.\ +\ +"Why, that must be the Anferovs," said an old deacon, addressing a\ +pockmarked peasant woman. "Lord have mercy, Lord have mercy!" he added\ +in his customary bass.\ +\ +"The Anferovs? No," said the woman. "They left in the morning. That must\ +be either Mary Nikolievna's or the Ivanovs'!"\ +\ +"He says 'a woman,' and Mary Nikolievna is a lady," remarked a house\ +serf.\ +\ +"Do you know her? She's thin, with long teeth," said Pierre.\ +\ +"That's Mary Nikolievna! They went inside the garden when these wolves\ +swooped down," said the woman, pointing to the French soldiers.\ +\ +"O Lord, have mercy!" added the deacon.\ +\ +"Go over that way, they're there. It's she! She kept on lamenting and\ +crying," continued the woman. "It's she. Here, this way!"\ +\ +But Pierre was not listening to the woman. He had for some seconds been\ +intently watching what was going on a few steps away. He was looking at\ +the Armenian family and at two French soldiers who had gone up to them.\ +One of these, a nimble little man, was wearing a blue coat tied round\ +the waist with a rope. He had a nightcap on his head and his feet were\ +bare. The other, whose appearance particularly struck Pierre, was a\ +long, lank, round-shouldered, fair-haired man, slow in his movements and\ +with an idiotic expression of face. He wore a woman's loose gown of\ +frieze, blue trousers, and large torn Hessian boots. The little\ +barefooted Frenchman in the blue coat went up to the Armenians and,\ +saying something, immediately seized the old man by his legs and the old\ +man at once began pulling off his boots. The other in the frieze gown\ +stopped in front of the beautiful Armenian girl and with his hands in\ +his pockets stood staring at her, motionless and silent.\ +\ +"Here, take the child!" said Pierre peremptorily and hurriedly to the\ +woman, handing the little girl to her. "Give her back to them, give her\ +back!" he almost shouted, putting the child, who began screaming, on the\ +ground, and again looking at the Frenchman and the Armenian family.\ +\ +The old man was already sitting barefoot. The little Frenchman had\ +secured his second boot and was slapping one boot against the other. The\ +old man was saying something in a voice broken by sobs, but Pierre\ +caught but a glimpse of this, his whole attention was directed to the\ +Frenchman in the frieze gown who meanwhile, swaying slowly from side to\ +side, had drawn nearer to the young woman and taking his hands from his\ +pockets had seized her by the neck.\ +\ +The beautiful Armenian still sat motionless and in the same attitude,\ +with her long lashes drooping as if she did not see or feel what the\ +soldier was doing to her.\ +\ +While Pierre was running the few steps that separated him from the\ +Frenchman, the tall marauder in the frieze gown was already tearing from\ +her neck the necklace the young Armenian was wearing, and the young\ +woman, clutching at her neck, screamed piercingly.\ +\ +"Let that woman alone!" exclaimed Pierre hoarsely in a furious voice,\ +seizing the soldier by his round shoulders and throwing him aside.\ +\ +The soldier fell, got up, and ran away. But his comrade, throwing down\ +the boots and drawing his sword, moved threateningly toward Pierre.\ +\ +"Voyons, Pas de betises!" * he cried.\ +\ +\ +* "Look here, no nonsense!"\ +\ +Pierre was in such a transport of rage that he remembered nothing and\ +his strength increased tenfold. He rushed at the barefooted Frenchman\ +and, before the latter had time to draw his sword, knocked him off his\ +feet and hammered him with his fists. Shouts of approval were heard from\ +the crowd around, and at the same moment a mounted patrol of French\ +uhlans appeared from round the corner. The uhlans came up at a trot to\ +Pierre and the Frenchman and surrounded them. Pierre remembered nothing\ +of what happened after that. He only remembered beating someone and\ +being beaten and finally feeling that his hands were bound and that a\ +crowd of French soldiers stood around him and were searching him.\ +\ +"Lieutenant, he has a dagger," were the first words Pierre understood.\ +\ +"Ah, a weapon?" said the officer and turned to the barefooted soldier\ +who had been arrested with Pierre. "All right, you can tell all about it\ +at the court-martial." Then he turned to Pierre. "Do you speak French?"\ +\ +Pierre looked around him with bloodshot eyes and did not reply. His face\ +probably looked very terrible, for the officer said something in a\ +whisper and four more uhlans left the ranks and placed themselves on\ +both sides of Pierre.\ +\ +"Do you speak French?" the officer asked again, keeping at a distance\ +from Pierre. "Call the interpreter."\ +\ +A little man in Russian civilian clothes rode out from the ranks, and by\ +his clothes and manner of speaking Pierre at once knew him to be a\ +French salesman from one of the Moscow shops.\ +\ +"He does not look like a common man," said the interpreter, after a\ +searching look at Pierre.\ +\ +"Ah, he looks very much like an incendiary," remarked the officer. "And\ +ask him who he is," he added.\ +\ +"Who are you?" asked the interpreter in poor Russian. "You must answer\ +the chief."\ +\ +"I will not tell you who I am. I am your prisoner--take me!" Pierre\ +suddenly replied in French.\ +\ +"Ah, ah!" muttered the officer with a frown. "Well then, march!"\ +\ +A crowd had collected round the uhlans. Nearest to Pierre stood the\ +pockmarked peasant woman with the little girl, and when the patrol\ +started she moved forward.\ +\ +"Where are they taking you to, you poor dear?" said she. "And the little\ +girl, the little girl, what am I to do with her if she's not theirs?"\ +said the woman.\ +\ +"What does that woman want?" asked the officer.\ +\ +Pierre was as if intoxicated. His elation increased at the sight of the\ +little girl he had saved.\ +\ +"What does she want?" he murmured. "She is bringing me my daughter whom\ +I have just saved from the flames," said he. "Good-bye!" And without\ +knowing how this aimless lie had escaped him, he went along with\ +resolute and triumphant steps between the French soldiers.\ +\ +The French patrol was one of those sent out through the various streets\ +of Moscow by Durosnel's order to put a stop to the pillage, and\ +especially to catch the incendiaries who, according to the general\ +opinion which had that day originated among the higher French officers,\ +were the cause of the conflagrations. After marching through a number of\ +streets the patrol arrested five more Russian suspects: a small\ +shopkeeper, two seminary students, a peasant, and a house serf, besides\ +several looters. But of all these various suspected characters, Pierre\ +was considered to be the most suspicious of all. When they had all been\ +brought for the night to a large house on the Zubov Rampart that was\ +being used as a guardhouse, Pierre was placed apart under strict guard.\ +\ +BOOK TWELVE: 1812\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER I\ +\ +In Petersburg at that time a complicated struggle was being carried on\ +with greater heat than ever in the highest circles, between the parties\ +of Rumyantsev, the French, Marya Fedorovna, the Tsarevich, and others,\ +drowned as usual by the buzzing of the court drones. But the calm,\ +luxurious life of Petersburg, concerned only about phantoms and\ +reflections of real life, went on in its old way and made it hard,\ +except by a great effort, to realize the danger and the difficult\ +position of the Russian people. There were the same receptions and\ +balls, the same French theater, the same court interests and service\ +interests and intrigues as usual. Only in the very highest circles were\ +attempts made to keep in mind the difficulties of the actual position.\ +Stories were whispered of how differently the two Empresses behaved in\ +these difficult circumstances. The Empress Marya, concerned for the\ +welfare of the charitable and educational institutions under her\ +patronage, had given directions that they should all be removed to\ +Kazan, and the things belonging to these institutions had already been\ +packed up. The Empress Elisabeth, however, when asked what instructions\ +she would be pleased to give--with her characteristic Russian patriotism\ +had replied that she could give no directions about state institutions\ +for that was the affair of the sovereign, but as far as she personally\ +was concerned she would be the last to quit Petersburg.\ +\ +At Anna Pavlovna's on the twenty-sixth of August, the very day of the\ +battle of Borodino, there was a soiree, the chief feature of which was\ +to be the reading of a letter from His Lordship the Bishop when sending\ +the Emperor an icon of the Venerable Sergius. It was regarded as a model\ +of ecclesiastical, patriotic eloquence. Prince Vasili himself, famed for\ +his elocution, was to read it. (He used to read at the Empress'.) The\ +art of his reading was supposed to lie in rolling out the words, quite\ +independently of their meaning, in a loud and singsong voice alternating\ +between a despairing wail and a tender murmur, so that the wail fell\ +quite at random on one word and the murmur on another. This reading, as\ +was always the case at Anna Pavlovna's soirees, had a political\ +significance. That evening she expected several important personages who\ +had to be made ashamed of their visits to the French theater and aroused\ +to a patriotic temper. A good many people had already arrived, but Anna\ +Pavlovna, not yet seeing all those whom she wanted in her drawing room,\ +did not let the reading begin but wound up the springs of a general\ +conversation.\ +\ +The news of the day in Petersburg was the illness of Countess Bezukhova.\ +She had fallen ill unexpectedly a few days previously, had missed\ +several gatherings of which she was usually ornament, and was said to be\ +receiving no one, and instead of the celebrated Petersburg doctors who\ +usually attended her had entrusted herself to some Italian doctor who\ +was treating her in some new and unusual way.\ +\ +They all knew very well that the enchanting countess' illness arose from\ +an inconvenience resulting from marrying two husbands at the same time,\ +and that the Italian's cure consisted in removing such inconvenience;\ +but in Anna Pavlovna's presence no one dared to think of this or even\ +appear to know it.\ +\ +"They say the poor countess is very ill. The doctor says it is angina\ +pectoris."\ +\ +"Angina? Oh, that's a terrible illness!"\ +\ +"They say that the rivals are reconciled, thanks to the angina..." and\ +the word angina was repeated with great satisfaction.\ +\ +"The count is pathetic, they say. He cried like a child when the doctor\ +told him the case was dangerous."\ +\ +"Oh, it would be a terrible loss, she is an enchanting woman."\ +\ +"You are speaking of the poor countess?" said Anna Pavlovna, coming up\ +just then. "I sent to ask for news, and hear that she is a little\ +better. Oh, she is certainly the most charming woman in the world," she\ +went on, with a smile at her own enthusiasm. "We belong to different\ +camps, but that does not prevent my esteeming her as she deserves. She\ +is very unfortunate!" added Anna Pavlovna.\ +\ +Supposing that by these words Anna Pavlovna was somewhat lifting the\ +veil from the secret of the countess' malady, an unwary young man\ +ventured to express surprise that well known doctors had not been called\ +in and that the countess was being attended by a charlatan who might\ +employ dangerous remedies.\ +\ +"Your information may be better than mine," Anna Pavlovna suddenly and\ +venomously retorted on the inexperienced young man, "but I know on good\ +authority that this doctor is a very learned and able man. He is private\ +physician to the Queen of Spain."\ +\ +And having thus demolished the young man, Anna Pavlovna turned to\ +another group where Bilibin was talking about the Austrians: having\ +wrinkled up his face he was evidently preparing to smooth it out again\ +and utter one of his mots.\ +\ +"I think it is delightful," he said, referring to a diplomatic note that\ +had been sent to Vienna with some Austrian banners captured from the\ +French by Wittgenstein, "the hero of Petropol" as he was then called in\ +Petersburg.\ +\ +"What? What's that?" asked Anna Pavlovna, securing silence for the mot,\ +which she had heard before.\ +\ +And Bilibin repeated the actual words of the diplomatic dispatch, which\ +he had himself composed.\ +\ +"The Emperor returns these Austrian banners," said Bilibin, "friendly\ +banners gone astray and found on a wrong path," and his brow became\ +smooth again.\ +\ +"Charming, charming!" observed Prince Vasili.\ +\ +"The path to Warsaw, perhaps," Prince Hippolyte remarked loudly and\ +unexpectedly. Everybody looked at him, understanding what he meant.\ +Prince Hippolyte himself glanced around with amused surprise. He knew no\ +more than the others what his words meant. During his diplomatic career\ +he had more than once noticed that such utterances were received as very\ +witty, and at every opportunity he uttered in that way the first words\ +that entered his head. "It may turn out very well," he thought, "but if\ +not, they'll know how to arrange matters." And really, during the\ +awkward silence that ensued, that insufficiently patriotic person\ +entered whom Anna Pavlovna had been waiting for and wished to convert,\ +and she, smiling and shaking a finger at Hippolyte, invited Prince\ +Vasili to the table and bringing him two candles and the manuscript\ +begged him to begin. Everyone became silent.\ +\ +"Most Gracious Sovereign and Emperor!" Prince Vasili sternly declaimed,\ +looking round at his audience as if to inquire whether anyone had\ +anything to say to the contrary. But no one said anything. "Moscow, our\ +ancient capital, the New Jerusalem, receives her Christ"--he placed a\ +sudden emphasis on the word her--"as a mother receives her zealous sons\ +into her arms, and through the gathering mists, foreseeing the brilliant\ +glory of thy rule, sings in exultation, 'Hosanna, blessed is he that\ +cometh!'"\ +\ +Prince Vasili pronounced these last words in a tearful voice.\ +\ +Bilibin attentively examined his nails, and many of those present\ +appeared intimidated, as if asking in what they were to blame. Anna\ +Pavlovna whispered the next words in advance, like an old woman\ +muttering the prayer at Communion: "Let the bold and insolent\ +Goliath..." she whispered.\ +\ +Prince Vasili continued.\ +\ +"Let the bold and insolent Goliath from the borders of France encompass\ +the realms of Russia with death-bearing terrors; humble Faith, the sling\ +of the Russian David, shall suddenly smite his head in his bloodthirsty\ +pride. This icon of the Venerable Sergius, the servant of God and\ +zealous champion of old of our country's weal, is offered to Your\ +Imperial Majesty. I grieve that my waning strength prevents rejoicing in\ +the sight of your most gracious presence. I raise fervent prayers to\ +Heaven that the Almighty may exalt the race of the just, and mercifully\ +fulfill the desires of Your Majesty."\ +\ +"What force! What a style!" was uttered in approval both of reader and\ +of author.\ +\ +Animated by that address Anna Pavlovna's guests talked for a long time\ +of the state of the fatherland and offered various conjectures as to the\ +result of the battle to be fought in a few days.\ +\ +"You will see," said Anna Pavlovna, "that tomorrow, on the Emperor's\ +birthday, we shall receive news. I have a favorable presentiment!"\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER II\ +\ +Anna Pavlovna's presentiment was in fact fulfilled. Next day during the\ +service at the palace church in honor of the Emperor's birthday, Prince\ +Volkonski was called out of the church and received a dispatch from\ +Prince Kutuzov. It was Kutuzov's report, written from Tatarinova on the\ +day of the battle. Kutuzov wrote that the Russians had not retreated a\ +step, that the French losses were much heavier than ours, and that he\ +was writing in haste from the field of battle before collecting full\ +information. It followed that there must have been a victory. And at\ +once, without leaving the church, thanks were rendered to the Creator\ +for His help and for the victory.\ +\ +Anna Pavlovna's presentiment was justified, and all that morning a\ +joyously festive mood reigned in the city. Everyone believed the victory\ +to have been complete, and some even spoke of Napoleon's having been\ +captured, of his deposition, and of the choice of a new ruler for\ +France.\ +\ +It is very difficult for events to be reflected in their real strength\ +and completeness amid the conditions of court life and far from the\ +scene of action. General events involuntarily group themselves around\ +some particular incident. So now the courtiers' pleasure was based as\ +much on the fact that the news had arrived on the Emperor's birthday as\ +on the fact of the victory itself. It was like a successfully arranged\ +surprise. Mention was made in Kutuzov's report of the Russian losses,\ +among which figured the names of Tuchkov, Bagration, and Kutaysov. In\ +the Petersburg world this sad side of the affair again involuntarily\ +centered round a single incident: Kutaysov's death. Everybody knew him,\ +the Emperor liked him, and he was young and interesting. That day\ +everyone met with the words:\ +\ +"What a wonderful coincidence! Just during the service. But what a loss\ +Kutaysov is! How sorry I am!"\ +\ +"What did I tell about Kutuzov?" Prince Vasili now said with a prophet's\ +pride. "I always said he was the only man capable of defeating\ +Napoleon."\ +\ +But next day no news arrived from the army and the public mood grew\ +anxious. The courtiers suffered because of the suffering the suspense\ +occasioned the Emperor.\ +\ +"Fancy the Emperor's position!" said they, and instead of extolling\ +Kutuzov as they had done the day before, they condemned him as the cause\ +of the Emperor's anxiety. That day Prince Vasili no longer boasted of\ +his protege Kutuzov, but remained silent when the commander-in-chief was\ +mentioned. Moreover, toward evening, as if everything conspired to make\ +Petersburg society anxious and uneasy, a terrible piece of news was\ +added. Countess Helene Bezukhova had suddenly died of that terrible\ +malady it had been so agreeable to mention. Officially, at large\ +gatherings, everyone said that Countess Bezukhova had died of a terrible\ +attack of angina pectoris, but in intimate circles details were\ +mentioned of how the private physician of the Queen of Spain had\ +prescribed small doses of a certain drug to produce a certain effect;\ +but Helene, tortured by the fact that the old count suspected her and\ +that her husband to whom she had written (that wretched, profligate\ +Pierre) had not replied, had suddenly taken a very large dose of the\ +drug, and had died in agony before assistance could be rendered her. It\ +was said that Prince Vasili and the old count had turned upon the\ +Italian, but the latter had produced such letters from the unfortunate\ +deceased that they had immediately let the matter drop.\ +\ +Talk in general centered round three melancholy facts: the Emperor's\ +lack of news, the loss of Kutaysov, and the death of Helene.\ +\ +On the third day after Kutuzov's report a country gentleman arrived from\ +Moscow, and news of the surrender of Moscow to the French spread through\ +the whole town. This was terrible! What a position for the Emperor to be\ +in! Kutuzov was a traitor, and Prince Vasili during the visits of\ +condolence paid to him on the occasion of his daughter's death said of\ +Kutuzov, whom he had formerly praised (it was excusable for him in his\ +grief to forget what he had said), that it was impossible to expect\ +anything else from a blind and depraved old man.\ +\ +"I only wonder that the fate of Russia could have been entrusted to such\ +a man."\ +\ +As long as this news remained unofficial it was possible to doubt it,\ +but the next day the following communication was received from Count\ +Rostopchin:\ +\ +Prince Kutuzov's adjutant has brought me a letter in which he demands\ +police officers to guide the army to the Ryazan road. He writes that he\ +is regretfully abandoning Moscow. Sire! Kutuzov's action decides the\ +fate of the capital and of your empire! Russia will shudder to learn of\ +the abandonment of the city in which her greatness is centered and in\ +which lie the ashes of your ancestors! I shall follow the army. I have\ +had everything removed, and it only remains for me to weep over the fate\ +of my fatherland.\ +\ +On receiving this dispatch the Emperor sent Prince Volkonski to Kutuzov\ +with the following rescript:\ +\ +Prince Michael Ilarionovich! Since the twenty-ninth of August I have\ +received no communication from you, yet on the first of September I\ +received from the commander-in-chief of Moscow, via Yaroslavl, the sad\ +news that you, with the army, have decided to abandon Moscow. You can\ +yourself imagine the effect this news has had on me, and your silence\ +increases my astonishment. I am sending this by Adjutant-General Prince\ +Volkonski, to hear from you the situation of the army and the reasons\ +that have induced you to take this melancholy decision.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER III\ +\ +Nine days after the abandonment of Moscow, a messenger from Kutuzov\ +reached Petersburg with the official announcement of that event. This\ +messenger was Michaud, a Frenchman who did not know Russian, but who was\ +quoique etranger, russe de coeur et d'ame, * as he said of himself.\ +\ +\ +* Though a foreigner, Russian in heart and soul.\ +\ +The Emperor at once received this messenger in his study at the palace\ +on Stone Island. Michaud, who had never seen Moscow before the campaign\ +and who did not know Russian, yet felt deeply moved (as he wrote) when\ +he appeared before notre tres gracieux souverain * with the news of the\ +burning of Moscow, dont les flammes eclairaient sa route. *(2)\ +\ +\ +* Our most gracious sovereign.\ +\ +* (2) Whose flames illumined his route.\ +\ +Though the source of M. Michaud's chagrin must have been different from\ +that which caused Russians to grieve, he had such a sad face when shown\ +into the Emperor's study that the latter at once asked:\ +\ +"Have you brought me sad news, Colonel?"\ +\ +"Very sad, sire," replied Michaud, lowering his eyes with a sigh. "The\ +abandonment of Moscow."\ +\ +"Have they surrendered my ancient capital without a battle?" asked the\ +Emperor quickly, his face suddenly flushing.\ +\ +Michaud respectfully delivered the message Kutuzov had entrusted to him,\ +which was that it had been impossible to fight before Moscow, and that\ +as the only remaining choice was between losing the army as well as\ +Moscow, or losing Moscow alone, the field marshal had to choose the\ +latter.\ +\ +The Emperor listened in silence, not looking at Michaud.\ +\ +"Has the enemy entered the city?" he asked.\ +\ +"Yes, sire, and Moscow is now in ashes. I left it all in flames,"\ +replied Michaud in a decided tone, but glancing at the Emperor he was\ +frightened by what he had done.\ +\ +The Emperor began to breathe heavily and rapidly, his lower lip\ +trembled, and tears instantly appeared in his fine blue eyes.\ +\ +But this lasted only a moment. He suddenly frowned, as if blaming\ +himself for his weakness, and raising his head addressed Michaud in a\ +firm voice:\ +\ +"I see, Colonel, from all that is happening, that Providence requires\ +great sacrifices of us... I am ready to submit myself in all things to\ +His will; but tell me, Michaud, how did you leave the army when it saw\ +my ancient capital abandoned without a battle? Did you not notice\ +discouragement?..."\ +\ +Seeing that his most gracious ruler was calm once more, Michaud also\ +grew calm, but was not immediately ready to reply to the Emperor's\ +direct and relevant question which required a direct answer.\ +\ +"Sire, will you allow me to speak frankly as befits a loyal soldier?" he\ +asked to gain time.\ +\ +"Colonel, I always require it," replied the Emperor. "Conceal nothing\ +from me, I wish to know absolutely how things are."\ +\ +"Sire!" said Michaud with a subtle, scarcely perceptible smile on his\ +lips, having now prepared a well-phrased reply, "sire, I left the whole\ +army, from its chiefs to the lowest soldier, without exception in\ +desperate and agonized terror..."\ +\ +"How is that?" the Emperor interrupted him, frowning sternly. "Would\ +misfortune make my Russians lose heart?... Never!"\ +\ +Michaud had only waited for this to bring out the phrase he had\ +prepared.\ +\ +"Sire," he said, with respectful playfulness, "they are only afraid lest\ +Your Majesty, in the goodness of your heart, should allow yourself to be\ +persuaded to make peace. They are burning for the combat," declared this\ +representative of the Russian nation, "and to prove to Your Majesty by\ +the sacrifice of their lives how devoted they are...."\ +\ +"Ah!" said the Emperor reassured, and with a kindly gleam in his eyes,\ +he patted Michaud on the shoulder. "You set me at ease, Colonel."\ +\ +He bent his head and was silent for some time.\ +\ +"Well, then, go back to the army," he said, drawing himself up to his\ +full height and addressing Michaud with a gracious and majestic gesture,\ +"and tell our brave men and all my good subjects wherever you go that\ +when I have not a soldier left I shall put myself at the head of my\ +beloved nobility and my good peasants and so use the last resources of\ +my empire. It still offers me more than my enemies suppose," said the\ +Emperor growing more and more animated; "but should it ever be ordained\ +by Divine Providence," he continued, raising to heaven his fine eyes\ +shining with emotion, "that my dynasty should cease to reign on the\ +throne of my ancestors, then after exhausting all the means at my\ +command, I shall let my beard grow to here" (he pointed halfway down his\ +chest) "and go and eat potatoes with the meanest of my peasants, rather\ +than sign the disgrace of my country and of my beloved people whose\ +sacrifices I know how to appreciate."\ +\ +Having uttered these words in an agitated voice the Emperor suddenly\ +turned away as if to hide from Michaud the tears that rose to his eyes,\ +and went to the further end of his study. Having stood there a few\ +moments, he strode back to Michaud and pressed his arm below the elbow\ +with a vigorous movement. The Emperor's mild and handsome face was\ +flushed and his eyes gleamed with resolution and anger.\ +\ +"Colonel Michaud, do not forget what I say to you here, perhaps we may\ +recall it with pleasure someday... Napoleon or I," said the Emperor,\ +touching his breast. "We can no longer both reign together. I have\ +learned to know him, and he will not deceive me any more...."\ +\ +And the Emperor paused, with a frown.\ +\ +When he heard these words and saw the expression of firm resolution in\ +the Emperor's eyes, Michaud--quoique etranger, russe de coeur et d'ame--\ +at that solemn moment felt himself enraptured by all that he had heard\ +(as he used afterwards to say), and gave expression to his own feelings\ +and those of the Russian people whose representative he considered\ +himself to be, in the following words:\ +\ +"Sire!" said he, "Your Majesty is at this moment signing the glory of\ +the nation and the salvation of Europe!"\ +\ +With an inclination of the head the Emperor dismissed him.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER IV\ +\ +It is natural for us who were not living in those days to imagine that\ +when half Russia had been conquered and the inhabitants were fleeing to\ +distant provinces, and one levy after another was being raised for the\ +defense of the fatherland, all Russians from the greatest to the least\ +were solely engaged in sacrificing themselves, saving their fatherland,\ +or weeping over its downfall. The tales and descriptions of that time\ +without exception speak only of the self-sacrifice, patriotic devotion,\ +despair, grief, and the heroism of the Russians. But it was not really\ +so. It appears so to us because we see only the general historic\ +interest of that time and do not see all the personal human interests\ +that people had. Yet in reality those personal interests of the moment\ +so much transcend the general interests that they always prevent the\ +public interest from being felt or even noticed. Most of the people at\ +that time paid no attention to the general progress of events but were\ +guided only by their private interests, and they were the very people\ +whose activities at that period were most useful.\ +\ +Those who tried to understand the general course of events and to take\ +part in it by self-sacrifice and heroism were the most useless members\ +of society, they saw everything upside down, and all they did for the\ +common good turned out to be useless and foolish--like Pierre's and\ +Mamonov's regiments which looted Russian villages, and the lint the\ +young ladies prepared and that never reached the wounded, and so on.\ +Even those, fond of intellectual talk and of expressing their feelings,\ +who discussed Russia's position at the time involuntarily introduced\ +into their conversation either a shade of pretense and falsehood or\ +useless condemnation and anger directed against people accused of\ +actions no one could possibly be guilty of. In historic events the rule\ +forbidding us to eat of the fruit of the Tree of Knowledge is specially\ +applicable. Only unconscious action bears fruit, and he who plays a part\ +in an historic event never understands its significance. If he tries to\ +realize it his efforts are fruitless.\ +\ +The more closely a man was engaged in the events then taking place in\ +Russia the less did he realize their significance. In Petersburg and in\ +the provinces at a distance from Moscow, ladies, and gentlemen in\ +militia uniforms, wept for Russia and its ancient capital and talked of\ +self-sacrifice and so on; but in the army which retired beyond Moscow\ +there was little talk or thought of Moscow, and when they caught sight\ +of its burned ruins no one swore to be avenged on the French, but they\ +thought about their next pay, their next quarters, of Matreshka the\ +vivandiere, and like matters.\ +\ +As the war had caught him in the service, Nicholas Rostov took a close\ +and prolonged part in the defense of his country, but did so casually,\ +without any aim at self-sacrifice, and he therefore looked at what was\ +going on in Russia without despair and without dismally racking his\ +brains over it. Had he been asked what he thought of the state of\ +Russia, he would have said that it was not his business to think about\ +it, that Kutuzov and others were there for that purpose, but that he had\ +heard that the regiments were to be made up to their full strength, that\ +fighting would probably go on for a long time yet, and that things being\ +so it was quite likely he might be in command of a regiment in a couple\ +of years' time.\ +\ +As he looked at the matter in this way, he learned that he was being\ +sent to Voronezh to buy remounts for his division, not only without\ +regret at being prevented from taking part in the coming battle, but\ +with the greatest pleasure--which he did not conceal and which his\ +comrades fully understood.\ +\ +A few days before the battle of Borodino, Nicholas received the\ +necessary money and warrants, and having sent some hussars on in\ +advance, he set out with post horses for Voronezh.\ +\ +Only a man who has experienced it--that is, has passed some months\ +continuously in an atmosphere of campaigning and war--can understand the\ +delight Nicholas felt when he escaped from the region covered by the\ +army's foraging operations, provision trains, and hospitals. When--free\ +from soldiers, wagons, and the filthy traces of a camp--he saw villages\ +with peasants and peasant women, gentlemen's country houses, fields\ +where cattle were grazing, posthouses with stationmasters asleep in\ +them, he rejoiced as though seeing all this for the first time. What for\ +a long while specially surprised and delighted him were the women, young\ +and healthy, without a dozen officers making up to each of them; women,\ +too, who were pleased and flattered that a passing officer should joke\ +with them.\ +\ +In the highest spirits Nicholas arrived at night at a hotel in Voronezh,\ +ordered things he had long been deprived of in camp, and next day, very\ +clean-shaven and in a full-dress uniform he had not worn for a long\ +time, went to present himself to the authorities.\ +\ +The commander of the militia was a civilian general, an old man who was\ +evidently pleased with his military designation and rank. He received\ +Nicholas brusquely (imagining this to be characteristically military)\ +and questioned him with an important air, as if considering the general\ +progress of affairs and approving and disapproving with full right to do\ +so. Nicholas was in such good spirits that this merely amused him.\ +\ +From the commander of the militia he drove to the governor. The governor\ +was a brisk little man, very simple and affable. He indicated the stud\ +farms at which Nicholas might procure horses, recommended to him a horse\ +dealer in the town and a landowner fourteen miles out of town who had\ +the best horses, and promised to assist him in every way.\ +\ +"You are Count Ilya Rostov's son? My wife was a great friend of your\ +mother's. We are at home on Thursdays--today is Thursday, so please come\ +and see us quite informally," said the governor, taking leave of him.\ +\ +Immediately on leaving the governor's, Nicholas hired post horses and,\ +taking his squadron quartermaster with him, drove at a gallop to the\ +landowner, fourteen miles away, who had the stud. Everything seemed to\ +him pleasant and easy during that first part of his stay in Voronezh\ +and, as usually happens when a man is in a pleasant state of mind,\ +everything went well and easily.\ +\ +The landowner to whom Nicholas went was a bachelor, an old cavalryman, a\ +horse fancier, a sportsman, the possessor of some century-old brandy and\ +some old Hungarian wine, who had a snuggery where he smoked, and who\ +owned some splendid horses.\ +\ +In very few words Nicholas bought seventeen picked stallions for six\ +thousand rubles--to serve, as he said, as samples of his remounts. After\ +dining and taking rather too much of the Hungarian wine, Nicholas--\ +having exchanged kisses with the landowner, with whom he was already on\ +the friendliest terms--galloped back over abominable roads, in the\ +brightest frame of mind, continually urging on the driver so as to be in\ +time for the governor's party.\ +\ +When he had changed, poured water over his head, and scented himself,\ +Nicholas arrived at the governor's rather late, but with the phrase\ +"better late than never" on his lips.\ +\ +It was not a ball, nor had dancing been announced, but everyone knew\ +that Catherine Petrovna would play valses and the ecossaise on the\ +clavichord and that there would be dancing, and so everyone had come as\ +to a ball.\ +\ +Provincial life in 1812 went on very much as usual, but with this\ +difference, that it was livelier in the towns in consequence of the\ +arrival of many wealthy families from Moscow, and as in everything that\ +went on in Russia at that time a special recklessness was noticeable, an\ +"in for a penny, in for a pound--who cares?" spirit, and the inevitable\ +small talk, instead of turning on the weather and mutual acquaintances,\ +now turned on Moscow, the army, and Napoleon.\ +\ +The society gathered together at the governor's was the best in\ +Voronezh.\ +\ +There were a great many ladies and some of Nicholas' Moscow\ +acquaintances, but there were no men who could at all vie with the\ +cavalier of St. George, the hussar remount officer, the good-natured and\ +well-bred Count Rostov. Among the men was an Italian prisoner, an\ +officer of the French army; and Nicholas felt that the presence of that\ +prisoner enhanced his own importance as a Russian hero. The Italian was,\ +as it were, a war trophy. Nicholas felt this, it seemed to him that\ +everyone regarded the Italian in the same light, and he treated him\ +cordially though with dignity and restraint.\ +\ +As soon as Nicholas entered in his hussar uniform, diffusing around him\ +a fragrance of perfume and wine, and had uttered the words "better late\ +than never" and heard them repeated several times by others, people\ +clustered around him; all eyes turned on him, and he felt at once that\ +he had entered into his proper position in the province--that of a\ +universal favorite: a very pleasant position, and intoxicatingly so\ +after his long privations. At posting stations, at inns, and in the\ +landowner's snuggery, maidservants had been flattered by his notice, and\ +here too at the governor's party there were (as it seemed to Nicholas)\ +an inexhaustible number of pretty young women, married and unmarried,\ +impatiently awaiting his notice. The women and girls flirted with him\ +and, from the first day, the people concerned themselves to get this\ +fine young daredevil of an hussar married and settled down. Among these\ +was the governor's wife herself, who welcomed Rostov as a near relative\ +and called him "Nicholas."\ +\ +Catherine Petrovna did actually play valses and the ecossaise, and\ +dancing began in which Nicholas still further captivated the provincial\ +society by his agility. His particularly free manner of dancing even\ +surprised them all. Nicholas was himself rather surprised at the way he\ +danced that evening. He had never danced like that in Moscow and would\ +even have considered such a very free and easy manner improper and in\ +bad form, but here he felt it incumbent on him to astonish them all by\ +something unusual, something they would have to accept as the regular\ +thing in the capital though new to them in the provinces.\ +\ +All the evening Nicholas paid attention to a blue-eyed, plump and\ +pleasing little blonde, the wife of one of the provincial officials.\ +With the naive conviction of young men in a merry mood that other men's\ +wives were created for them, Rostov did not leave the lady's side and\ +treated her husband in a friendly and conspiratorial style, as if,\ +without speaking of it, they knew how capitally Nicholas and the lady\ +would get on together. The husband, however, did not seem to share that\ +conviction and tried to behave morosely with Rostov. But the latter's\ +good-natured naivete was so boundless that sometimes even he\ +involuntarily yielded to Nicholas' good humor. Toward the end of the\ +evening, however, as the wife's face grew more flushed and animated, the\ +husband's became more and more melancholy and solemn, as though there\ +were but a given amount of animation between them and as the wife's\ +share increased the husband's diminished.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER V\ +\ +Nicholas sat leaning slightly forward in an armchair, bending closely\ +over the blonde lady and paying her mythological compliments with a\ +smile that never left his face. Jauntily shifting the position of his\ +legs in their tight riding breeches, diffusing an odor of perfume, and\ +admiring his partner, himself, and the fine outlines of his legs in\ +their well-fitting Hessian boots, Nicholas told the blonde lady that he\ +wished to run away with a certain lady here in Voronezh.\ +\ +"Which lady?"\ +\ +"A charming lady, a divine one. Her eyes" (Nicholas looked at his\ +partner) "are blue, her mouth coral and ivory; her figure" (he glanced\ +at her shoulders) "like Diana's...."\ +\ +The husband came up and sullenly asked his wife what she was talking\ +about.\ +\ +"Ah, Nikita Ivanych!" cried Nicholas, rising politely, and as if wishing\ +Nikita Ivanych to share his joke, he began to tell him of his intention\ +to elope with a blonde lady.\ +\ +The husband smiled gloomily, the wife gaily. The governor's good-natured\ +wife came up with a look of disapproval.\ +\ +"Anna Ignatyevna wants to see you, Nicholas," said she, pronouncing the\ +name so that Nicholas at once understood that Anna Ignatyevna was a very\ +important person. "Come, Nicholas! You know you let me call you so?"\ +\ +"Oh, yes, Aunt. Who is she?"\ +\ +"Anna Ignatyevna Malvintseva. She has heard from her niece how you\ +rescued her... Can you guess?"\ +\ +"I rescued such a lot of them!" said Nicholas.\ +\ +"Her niece, Princess Bolkonskaya. She is here in Voronezh with her aunt.\ +Oho! How you blush. Why, are...?"\ +\ +"Not a bit! Please don't, Aunt!"\ +\ +"Very well, very well!... Oh, what a fellow you are!"\ +\ +The governor's wife led him up to a tall and very stout old lady with a\ +blue headdress, who had just finished her game of cards with the most\ +important personages of the town. This was Malvintseva, Princess Mary's\ +aunt on her mother's side, a rich, childless widow who always lived in\ +Voronezh. When Rostov approached her she was standing settling up for\ +the game. She looked at him and, screwing up her eyes sternly, continued\ +to upbraid the general who had won from her.\ +\ +"Very pleased, mon cher," she then said, holding out her hand to\ +Nicholas. "Pray come and see me."\ +\ +After a few words about Princess Mary and her late father, whom\ +Malvintseva had evidently not liked, and having asked what Nicholas knew\ +of Prince Andrew, who also was evidently no favorite of hers, the\ +important old lady dismissed Nicholas after repeating her invitation to\ +come to see her.\ +\ +Nicholas promised to come and blushed again as he bowed. At the mention\ +of Princess Mary he experienced a feeling of shyness and even of fear,\ +which he himself did not understand.\ +\ +When he had parted from Malvintseva Nicholas wished to return to the\ +dancing, but the governor's little wife placed her plump hand on his\ +sleeve and, saying that she wanted to have a talk with him, led him to\ +her sitting room, from which those who were there immediately withdrew\ +so as not to be in her way.\ +\ +"Do you know, dear boy," began the governor's wife with a serious\ +expression on her kind little face, "that really would be the match for\ +you: would you like me to arrange it?"\ +\ +"Whom do you mean, Aunt?" asked Nicholas.\ +\ +"I will make a match for you with the princess. Catherine Petrovna\ +speaks of Lily, but I say, no--the princess! Do you want me to do it? I\ +am sure your mother will be grateful to me. What a charming girl she is,\ +really! And she is not at all so plain, either."\ +\ +"Not at all," replied Nicholas as if offended at the idea. "As befits a\ +soldier, Aunt, I don't force myself on anyone or refuse anything," he\ +said before he had time to consider what he was saying.\ +\ +"Well then, remember, this is not a joke!"\ +\ +"Of course not!"\ +\ +"Yes, yes," the governor's wife said as if talking to herself. "But, my\ +dear boy, among other things you are too attentive to the other, the\ +blonde. One is sorry for the husband, really...."\ +\ +"Oh no, we are good friends with him," said Nicholas in the simplicity\ +of his heart; it did not enter his head that a pastime so pleasant to\ +himself might not be pleasant to someone else.\ +\ +"But what nonsense I have been saying to the governor's wife!" thought\ +Nicholas suddenly at supper. "She will really begin to arrange a\ +match... and Sonya...?" And on taking leave of the governor's wife, when\ +she again smilingly said to him, "Well then, remember!" he drew her\ +aside.\ +\ +"But see here, to tell the truth, Aunt..."\ +\ +"What is it, my dear? Come, let's sit down here," said she.\ +\ +Nicholas suddenly felt a desire and need to tell his most intimate\ +thoughts (which he would not have told to his mother, his sister, or his\ +friend) to this woman who was almost a stranger. When he afterwards\ +recalled that impulse to unsolicited and inexplicable frankness which\ +had very important results for him, it seemed to him--as it seems to\ +everyone in such cases--that it was merely some silly whim that seized\ +him: yet that burst of frankness, together with other trifling events,\ +had immense consequences for him and for all his family.\ +\ +"You see, Aunt, Mamma has long wanted me to marry an heiress, but the\ +very idea of marrying for money is repugnant to me."\ +\ +"Oh yes, I understand," said the governor's wife.\ +\ +"But Princess Bolkonskaya--that's another matter. I will tell you the\ +truth. In the first place I like her very much, I feel drawn to her; and\ +then, after I met her under such circumstances--so strangely, the idea\ +often occurred to me: 'This is fate.' Especially if you remember that\ +Mamma had long been thinking of it; but I had never happened to meet her\ +before, somehow it had always happened that we did not meet. And as long\ +as my sister Natasha was engaged to her brother it was of course out of\ +the question for me to think of marrying her. And it must needs happen\ +that I should meet her just when Natasha's engagement had been broken\ +off... and then everything... So you see... I never told this to anyone\ +and never will, only to you."\ +\ +The governor's wife pressed his elbow gratefully.\ +\ +"You know Sonya, my cousin? I love her, and promised to marry her, and\ +will do so.... So you see there can be no question about-" said Nicholas\ +incoherently and blushing.\ +\ +"My dear boy, what a way to look at it! You know Sonya has nothing and\ +you yourself say your Papa's affairs are in a very bad way. And what\ +about your mother? It would kill her, that's one thing. And what sort of\ +life would it be for Sonya--if she's a girl with a heart? Your mother in\ +despair, and you all ruined.... No, my dear, you and Sonya ought to\ +understand that."\ +\ +Nicholas remained silent. It comforted him to hear these arguments.\ +\ +"All the same, Aunt, it is impossible," he rejoined with a sigh, after a\ +short pause. "Besides, would the princess have me? And besides, she is\ +now in mourning. How can one think of it!"\ +\ +"But you don't suppose I'm going to get you married at once? There is\ +always a right way of doing things," replied the governor's wife.\ +\ +"What a matchmaker you are, Aunt..." said Nicholas, kissing her plump\ +little hand.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER VI\ +\ +On reaching Moscow after her meeting with Rostov, Princess Mary had\ +found her nephew there with his tutor, and a letter from Prince Andrew\ +giving her instructions how to get to her Aunt Malvintseva at Voronezh.\ +That feeling akin to temptation which had tormented her during her\ +father's illness, since his death, and especially since her meeting with\ +Rostov was smothered by arrangements for the journey, anxiety about her\ +brother, settling in a new house, meeting new people, and attending to\ +her nephew's education. She was sad. Now, after a month passed in quiet\ +surroundings, she felt more and more deeply the loss of her father which\ +was associated in her mind with the ruin of Russia. She was agitated and\ +incessantly tortured by the thought of the dangers to which her brother,\ +the only intimate person now remaining to her, was exposed. She was\ +worried too about her nephew's education for which she had always felt\ +herself incompetent, but in the depths of her soul she felt at peace--a\ +peace arising from consciousness of having stifled those personal dreams\ +and hopes that had been on the point of awakening within her and were\ +related to her meeting with Rostov.\ +\ +The day after her party the governor's wife came to see Malvintseva and,\ +after discussing her plan with the aunt, remarked that though under\ +present circumstances a formal betrothal was, of course, not to be\ +thought of, all the same the young people might be brought together and\ +could get to know one another. Malvintseva expressed approval, and the\ +governor's wife began to speak of Rostov in Mary's presence, praising\ +him and telling how he had blushed when Princess Mary's name was\ +mentioned. But Princess Mary experienced a painful rather than a joyful\ +feeling--her mental tranquillity was destroyed, and desires, doubts,\ +self-reproach, and hopes reawoke.\ +\ +During the two days that elapsed before Rostov called, Princess Mary\ +continually thought of how she ought to behave to him. First she decided\ +not to come to the drawing room when he called to see her aunt--that it\ +would not be proper for her, in her deep mourning, to receive visitors;\ +then she thought this would be rude after what he had done for her; then\ +it occurred to her that her aunt and the governor's wife had intentions\ +concerning herself and Rostov--their looks and words at times seemed to\ +confirm this supposition--then she told herself that only she, with her\ +sinful nature, could think this of them: they could not forget that\ +situated as she was, while still wearing deep mourning, such matchmaking\ +would be an insult to her and to her father's memory. Assuming that she\ +did go down to see him, Princess Mary imagined the words he would say to\ +her and what she would say to him, and these words sometimes seemed\ +undeservedly cold and then to mean too much. More than anything she\ +feared lest the confusion she felt might overwhelm her and betray her as\ +soon as she saw him.\ +\ +But when on Sunday after church the footman announced in the drawing\ +room that Count Rostov had called, the princess showed no confusion,\ +only a slight blush suffused her cheeks and her eyes lit up with a new\ +and radiant light.\ +\ +"You have met him, Aunt?" said she in a calm voice, unable herself to\ +understand that she could be outwardly so calm and natural.\ +\ +When Rostov entered the room, the princess dropped her eyes for an\ +instant, as if to give the visitor time to greet her aunt, and then just\ +as Nicholas turned to her she raised her head and met his look with\ +shining eyes. With a movement full of dignity and grace she half rose\ +with a smile of pleasure, held out her slender, delicate hand to him,\ +and began to speak in a voice in which for the first time new deep\ +womanly notes vibrated. Mademoiselle Bourienne, who was in the drawing\ +room, looked at Princess Mary in bewildered surprise. Herself a\ +consummate coquette, she could not have maneuvered better on meeting a\ +man she wished to attract.\ +\ +"Either black is particularly becoming to her or she really has greatly\ +improved without my having noticed it. And above all, what tact and\ +grace!" thought Mademoiselle Bourienne.\ +\ +Had Princess Mary been capable of reflection at that moment, she would\ +have been more surprised than Mademoiselle Bourienne at the change that\ +had taken place in herself. From the moment she recognized that dear,\ +loved face, a new life force took possession of her and compelled her to\ +speak and act apart from her own will. From the time Rostov entered, her\ +face became suddenly transformed. It was as if a light had been kindled\ +in a carved and painted lantern and the intricate, skillful, artistic\ +work on its sides, that previously seemed dark, coarse, and meaningless,\ +was suddenly shown up in unexpected and striking beauty. For the first\ +time all that pure, spiritual, inward travail through which she had\ +lived appeared on the surface. All her inward labor, her dissatisfaction\ +with herself, her sufferings, her strivings after goodness, her\ +meekness, love, and self-sacrifice--all this now shone in those radiant\ +eyes, in her delicate smile, and in every trait of her gentle face.\ +\ +Rostov saw all this as clearly as if he had known her whole life. He\ +felt that the being before him was quite different from, and better\ +than, anyone he had met before, and above all better than himself.\ +\ +Their conversation was very simple and unimportant. They spoke of the\ +war, and like everyone else unconsciously exaggerated their sorrow about\ +it; they spoke of their last meeting--Nicholas trying to change the\ +subject--they talked of the governor's kind wife, of Nicholas'\ +relations, and of Princess Mary's.\ +\ +She did not talk about her brother, diverting the conversation as soon\ +as her aunt mentioned Andrew. Evidently she could speak of Russia's\ +misfortunes with a certain artificiality, but her brother was too near\ +her heart and she neither could nor would speak lightly of him. Nicholas\ +noticed this, as he noticed every shade of Princess Mary's character\ +with an observation unusual to him, and everything confirmed his\ +conviction that she was a quite unusual and extraordinary being.\ +Nicholas blushed and was confused when people spoke to him about the\ +princess (as she did when he was mentioned) and even when he thought of\ +her, but in her presence he felt quite at ease, and said not at all what\ +he had prepared, but what, quite appropriately, occurred to him at the\ +moment.\ +\ +When a pause occurred during his short visit, Nicholas, as is usual when\ +there are children, turned to Prince Andrew's little son, caressing him\ +and asking whether he would like to be an hussar. He took the boy on his\ +knee, played with him, and looked round at Princess Mary. With a\ +softened, happy, timid look she watched the boy she loved in the arms of\ +the man she loved. Nicholas also noticed that look and, as if\ +understanding it, flushed with pleasure and began to kiss the boy with\ +good natured playfulness.\ +\ +As she was in mourning Princess Mary did not go out into society, and\ +Nicholas did not think it the proper thing to visit her again; but all\ +the same the governor's wife went on with her matchmaking, passing on to\ +Nicholas the flattering things Princess Mary said of him and vice versa,\ +and insisting on his declaring himself to Princess Mary. For this\ +purpose she arranged a meeting between the young people at the bishop's\ +house before Mass.\ +\ +Though Rostov told the governor's wife that he would not make any\ +declaration to Princess Mary, he promised to go.\ +\ +As at Tilsit Rostov had not allowed himself to doubt that what everybody\ +considered right was right, so now, after a short but sincere struggle\ +between his effort to arrange his life by his own sense of justice, and\ +in obedient submission to circumstances, he chose the latter and yielded\ +to the power he felt irresistibly carrying him he knew not where. He\ +knew that after his promise to Sonya it would be what he deemed base to\ +declare his feelings to Princess Mary. And he knew that he would never\ +act basely. But he also knew (or rather felt at the bottom of his heart)\ +that by resigning himself now to the force of circumstances and to those\ +who were guiding him, he was not only doing nothing wrong, but was doing\ +something very important--more important than anything he had ever done\ +in his life.\ +\ +After meeting Princess Mary, though the course of his life went on\ +externally as before, all his former amusements lost their charm for him\ +and he often thought about her. But he never thought about her as he had\ +thought of all the young ladies without exception whom he had met in\ +society, nor as he had for a long time, and at one time rapturously,\ +thought about Sonya. He had pictured each of those young ladies as\ +almost all honest-hearted young men do, that is, as a possible wife,\ +adapting her in his imagination to all the conditions of married life: a\ +white dressing gown, his wife at the tea table, his wife's carriage,\ +little ones, Mamma and Papa, their relations to her, and so on--and\ +these pictures of the future had given him pleasure. But with Princess\ +Mary, to whom they were trying to get him engaged, he could never\ +picture anything of future married life. If he tried, his pictures\ +seemed incongruous and false. It made him afraid.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER VII\ +\ +The dreadful news of the battle of Borodino, of our losses in killed and\ +wounded, and the still more terrible news of the loss of Moscow reached\ +Voronezh in the middle of September. Princess Mary, having learned of\ +her brother's wound only from the Gazette and having no definite news of\ +him, prepared (so Nicholas heard, he had not seen her again himself) to\ +set off in search of Prince Andrew.\ +\ +When he received the news of the battle of Borodino and the abandonment\ +of Moscow, Rostov was not seized with despair, anger, the desire for\ +vengeance, or any feeling of that kind, but everything in Voronezh\ +suddenly seemed to him dull and tiresome, and he experienced an\ +indefinite feeling of shame and awkwardness. The conversations he heard\ +seemed to him insincere; he did not know how to judge all these affairs\ +and felt that only in the regiment would everything again become clear\ +to him. He made haste to finish buying the horses, and often became\ +unreasonably angry with his servant and squadron quartermaster.\ +\ +A few days before his departure a special thanksgiving, at which\ +Nicholas was present, was held in the cathedral for the Russian victory.\ +He stood a little behind the governor and held himself with military\ +decorum through the service, meditating on a great variety of subjects.\ +When the service was over the governor's wife beckoned him to her.\ +\ +"Have you seen the princess?" she asked, indicating with a movement of\ +her head a lady standing on the opposite side, beyond the choir.\ +\ +Nicholas immediately recognized Princess Mary not so much by the profile\ +he saw under her bonnet as by the feeling of solicitude, timidity, and\ +pity that immediately overcame him. Princess Mary, evidently engrossed\ +by her thoughts, was crossing herself for the last time before leaving\ +the church.\ +\ +Nicholas looked at her face with surprise. It was the same face he had\ +seen before, there was the same general expression of refined, inner,\ +spiritual labor, but now it was quite differently lit up. There was a\ +pathetic expression of sorrow, prayer, and hope in it. As had occurred\ +before when she was present, Nicholas went up to her without waiting to\ +be prompted by the governor's wife and not asking himself whether or not\ +it was right and proper to address her here in church, and told her he\ +had heard of her trouble and sympathized with his whole soul. As soon as\ +she heard his voice a vivid glow kindled in her face, lighting up both\ +her sorrow and her joy.\ +\ +"There is one thing I wanted to tell you, Princess," said Rostov. "It is\ +that if your brother, Prince Andrew Nikolievich, were not living, it\ +would have been at once announced in the Gazette, as he is a colonel."\ +\ +The princess looked at him, not grasping what he was saying, but cheered\ +by the expression of regretful sympathy on his face.\ +\ +"And I have known so many cases of a splinter wound" (the Gazette said\ +it was a shell) "either proving fatal at once or being very slight,"\ +continued Nicholas. "We must hope for the best, and I am sure..."\ +\ +Princess Mary interrupted him.\ +\ +"Oh, that would be so dread..." she began and, prevented by agitation\ +from finishing, she bent her head with a movement as graceful as\ +everything she did in his presence and, looking up at him gratefully,\ +went out, following her aunt.\ +\ +That evening Nicholas did not go out, but stayed at home to settle some\ +accounts with the horse dealers. When he had finished that business it\ +was already too late to go anywhere but still too early to go to bed,\ +and for a long time he paced up and down the room, reflecting on his\ +life, a thing he rarely did.\ +\ +Princess Mary had made an agreeable impression on him when he had met\ +her in Smolensk province. His having encountered her in such exceptional\ +circumstances, and his mother having at one time mentioned her to him as\ +a good match, had drawn his particular attention to her. When he met her\ +again in Voronezh the impression she made on him was not merely pleasing\ +but powerful. Nicholas had been struck by the peculiar moral beauty he\ +observed in her at this time. He was, however, preparing to go away and\ +it had not entered his head to regret that he was thus depriving himself\ +of chances of meeting her. But that day's encounter in church had, he\ +felt, sunk deeper than was desirable for his peace of mind. That pale,\ +sad, refined face, that radiant look, those gentle graceful gestures,\ +and especially the deep and tender sorrow expressed in all her features\ +agitated him and evoked his sympathy. In men Rostov could not bear to\ +see the expression of a higher spiritual life (that was why he did not\ +like Prince Andrew) and he referred to it contemptuously as philosophy\ +and dreaminess, but in Princess Mary that very sorrow which revealed the\ +depth of a whole spiritual world foreign to him was an irresistible\ +attraction.\ +\ +"She must be a wonderful woman. A real angel!" he said to himself. "Why\ +am I not free? Why was I in such a hurry with Sonya?" And he\ +involuntarily compared the two: the lack of spirituality in the one and\ +the abundance of it in the other--a spirituality he himself lacked and\ +therefore valued most highly. He tried to picture what would happen were\ +he free. How he would propose to her and how she would become his wife.\ +But no, he could not imagine that. He felt awed, and no clear picture\ +presented itself to his mind. He had long ago pictured to himself a\ +future with Sonya, and that was all clear and simple just because it had\ +all been thought out and he knew all there was in Sonya, but it was\ +impossible to picture a future with Princess Mary, because he did not\ +understand her but simply loved her.\ +\ +Reveries about Sonya had had something merry and playful in them, but to\ +dream of Princess Mary was always difficult and a little frightening.\ +\ +"How she prayed!" he thought. "It was plain that her whole soul was in\ +her prayer. Yes, that was the prayer that moves mountains, and I am sure\ +her prayer will be answered. Why don't I pray for what I want?" he\ +suddenly thought. "What do I want? To be free, released from Sonya...\ +She was right," he thought, remembering what the governor's wife had\ +said: "Nothing but misfortune can come of marrying Sonya. Muddles, grief\ +for Mamma... business difficulties... muddles, terrible muddles!\ +Besides, I don't love her--not as I should. O, God! release me from this\ +dreadful, inextricable position!" he suddenly began to pray. "Yes,\ +prayer can move mountains, but one must have faith and not pray as\ +Natasha and I used to as children, that the snow might turn into sugar--\ +and then run out into the yard to see whether it had done so. No, but I\ +am not praying for trifles now," he thought as he put his pipe down in a\ +corner, and folding his hands placed himself before the icon. Softened\ +by memories of Princess Mary he began to pray as he had not done for a\ +long time. Tears were in his eyes and in his throat when the door opened\ +and Lavrushka came in with some papers.\ +\ +"Blockhead! Why do you come in without being called?" cried Nicholas,\ +quickly changing his attitude.\ +\ +"From the governor," said Lavrushka in a sleepy voice. "A courier has\ +arrived and there's a letter for you."\ +\ +"Well, all right, thanks. You can go!"\ +\ +Nicholas took the two letters, one of which was from his mother and the\ +other from Sonya. He recognized them by the handwriting and opened\ +Sonya's first. He had read only a few lines when he turned pale and his\ +eyes opened wide with fear and joy.\ +\ +"No, it's not possible!" he cried aloud.\ +\ +Unable to sit still he paced up and down the room holding the letter and\ +reading it. He glanced through it, then read it again, and then again,\ +and standing still in the middle of the room he raised his shoulders,\ +stretching out his hands, with his mouth wide open and his eyes fixed.\ +What he had just been praying for with confidence that God would hear\ +him had come to pass; but Nicholas was as much astonished as if it were\ +something extraordinary and unexpected, and as if the very fact that it\ +had happened so quickly proved that it had not come from God to whom he\ +had prayed, but by some ordinary coincidence.\ +\ +This unexpected and, as it seemed to Nicholas, quite voluntary letter\ +from Sonya freed him from the knot that fettered him and from which\ +there had seemed no escape. She wrote that the last unfortunate events--\ +the loss of almost the whole of the Rostovs' Moscow property--and the\ +countess' repeatedly expressed wish that Nicholas should marry Princess\ +Bolkonskaya, together with his silence and coldness of late, had all\ +combined to make her decide to release him from his promise and set him\ +completely free.\ +\ +It would be too painful to me to think that I might be a cause of sorrow\ +or discord in the family that has been so good to me (she wrote), and my\ +love has no aim but the happiness of those I love; so, Nicholas, I beg\ +you to consider yourself free, and to be assured that, in spite of\ +everything, no one can love you more than does\ +\ +Your Sonya\ +\ +Both letters were written from Troitsa. The other, from the countess,\ +described their last days in Moscow, their departure, the fire, and the\ +destruction of all their property. In this letter the countess also\ +mentioned that Prince Andrew was among the wounded traveling with them;\ +his state was very critical, but the doctor said there was now more\ +hope. Sonya and Natasha were nursing him.\ +\ +Next day Nicholas took his mother's letter and went to see Princess\ +Mary. Neither he nor she said a word about what "Natasha nursing him"\ +might mean, but thanks to this letter Nicholas suddenly became almost as\ +intimate with the princess as if they were relations.\ +\ +The following day he saw Princess Mary off on her journey to Yaroslavl,\ +and a few days later left to rejoin his regiment.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER VIII\ +\ +Sonya's letter written from Troitsa, which had come as an answer to\ +Nicholas' prayer, was prompted by this: the thought of getting Nicholas\ +married to an heiress occupied the old countess' mind more and more. She\ +knew that Sonya was the chief obstacle to this happening, and Sonya's\ +life in the countess' house had grown harder and harder, especially\ +after they had received a letter from Nicholas telling of his meeting\ +with Princess Mary in Bogucharovo. The countess let no occasion slip of\ +making humiliating or cruel allusions to Sonya.\ +\ +But a few days before they left Moscow, moved and excited by all that\ +was going on, she called Sonya to her and, instead of reproaching and\ +making demands on her, tearfully implored her to sacrifice herself and\ +repay all that the family had done for her by breaking off her\ +engagement with Nicholas.\ +\ +"I shall not be at peace till you promise me this."\ +\ +Sonya burst into hysterical tears and replied through her sobs that she\ +would do anything and was prepared for anything, but gave no actual\ +promise and could not bring herself to decide to do what was demanded of\ +her. She must sacrifice herself for the family that had reared and\ +brought her up. To sacrifice herself for others was Sonya's habit. Her\ +position in the house was such that only by sacrifice could she show her\ +worth, and she was accustomed to this and loved doing it. But in all her\ +former acts of self-sacrifice she had been happily conscious that they\ +raised her in her own esteem and in that of others, and so made her more\ +worthy of Nicholas whom she loved more than anything in the world. But\ +now they wanted her to sacrifice the very thing that constituted the\ +whole reward for her self-sacrifice and the whole meaning of her life.\ +And for the first time she felt bitterness against those who had been\ +her benefactors only to torture her the more painfully; she felt jealous\ +of Natasha who had never experienced anything of this sort, had never\ +needed to sacrifice herself, but made others sacrifice themselves for\ +her and yet was beloved by everybody. And for the first time Sonya felt\ +that out of her pure, quiet love for Nicholas a passionate feeling was\ +beginning to grow up which was stronger than principle, virtue, or\ +religion. Under the influence of this feeling Sonya, whose life of\ +dependence had taught her involuntarily to be secretive, having answered\ +the countess in vague general terms, avoided talking with her and\ +resolved to wait till she should see Nicholas, not in order to set him\ +free but on the contrary at that meeting to bind him to her forever.\ +\ +The bustle and terror of the Rostovs' last days in Moscow stifled the\ +gloomy thoughts that oppressed Sonya. She was glad to find escape from\ +them in practical activity. But when she heard of Prince Andrew's\ +presence in their house, despite her sincere pity for him and for\ +Natasha, she was seized by a joyful and superstitious feeling that God\ +did not intend her to be separated from Nicholas. She knew that Natasha\ +loved no one but Prince Andrew and had never ceased to love him. She\ +knew that being thrown together again under such terrible circumstances\ +they would again fall in love with one another, and that Nicholas would\ +then not be able to marry Princess Mary as they would be within the\ +prohibited degrees of affinity. Despite all the terror of what had\ +happened during those last days and during the first days of their\ +journey, this feeling that Providence was intervening in her personal\ +affairs cheered Sonya.\ +\ +At the Troitsa monastery the Rostovs first broke their journey for a\ +whole day.\ +\ +Three large rooms were assigned to them in the monastery hostelry, one\ +of which was occupied by Prince Andrew. The wounded man was much better\ +that day and Natasha was sitting with him. In the next room sat the\ +count and countess respectfully conversing with the prior, who was\ +calling on them as old acquaintances and benefactors of the monastery.\ +Sonya was there too, tormented by curiosity as to what Prince Andrew and\ +Natasha were talking about. She heard the sound of their voices through\ +the door. That door opened and Natasha came out, looking excited. Not\ +noticing the monk, who had risen to greet her and was drawing back the\ +wide sleeve on his right arm, she went up to Sonya and took her hand.\ +\ +"Natasha, what are you about? Come here!" said the countess.\ +\ +Natasha went up to the monk for his blessing, and he advised her to pray\ +for aid to God and His saint.\ +\ +As soon as the prior withdrew, Natasha took her friend by the hand and\ +went with her into the unoccupied room.\ +\ +"Sonya, will he live?" she asked. "Sonya, how happy I am, and how\ +unhappy!... Sonya, dovey, everything is as it used to be. If only he\ +lives! He cannot... because... because... of" and Natasha burst into\ +tears.\ +\ +"Yes! I knew it! Thank God!" murmured Sonya. "He will live."\ +\ +Sonya was not less agitated than her friend by the latter's fear and\ +grief and by her own personal feelings which she shared with no one.\ +Sobbing, she kissed and comforted Natasha. "If only he lives!" she\ +thought. Having wept, talked, and wiped away their tears, the two\ +friends went together to Prince Andrew's door. Natasha opened it\ +cautiously and glanced into the room, Sonya standing beside her at the\ +half-open door.\ +\ +Prince Andrew was lying raised high on three pillows. His pale face was\ +calm, his eyes closed, and they could see his regular breathing.\ +\ +"O, Natasha!" Sonya suddenly almost screamed, catching her companion's\ +arm and stepping back from the door.\ +\ +"What? What is it?" asked Natasha.\ +\ +"It's that, that..." said Sonya, with a white face and trembling lips.\ +\ +Natasha softly closed the door and went with Sonya to the window, not\ +yet understanding what the latter was telling her.\ +\ +"You remember," said Sonya with a solemn and frightened expression. "You\ +remember when I looked in the mirror for you... at Otradnoe at\ +Christmas? Do you remember what I saw?"\ +\ +"Yes, yes!" cried Natasha opening her eyes wide, and vaguely recalling\ +that Sonya had told her something about Prince Andrew whom she had seen\ +lying down.\ +\ +"You remember?" Sonya went on. "I saw it then and told everybody, you\ +and Dunyasha. I saw him lying on a bed," said she, making a gesture with\ +her hand and a lifted finger at each detail, "and that he had his eyes\ +closed and was covered just with a pink quilt, and that his hands were\ +folded," she concluded, convincing herself that the details she had just\ +seen were exactly what she had seen in the mirror.\ +\ +She had in fact seen nothing then but had mentioned the first thing that\ +came into her head, but what she had invented then seemed to her now as\ +real as any other recollection. She not only remembered what she had\ +then said--that he turned to look at her and smiled and was covered with\ +something red--but was firmly convinced that she had then seen and said\ +that he was covered with a pink quilt and that his eyes were closed.\ +\ +"Yes, yes, it really was pink!" cried Natasha, who now thought she too\ +remembered the word pink being used, and saw in this the most\ +extraordinary and mysterious part of the prediction.\ +\ +"But what does it mean?" she added meditatively.\ +\ +"Oh, I don't know, it is all so strange," replied Sonya, clutching at\ +her head.\ +\ +A few minutes later Prince Andrew rang and Natasha went to him, but\ +Sonya, feeling unusually excited and touched, remained at the window\ +thinking about the strangeness of what had occurred.\ +\ +They had an opportunity that day to send letters to the army, and the\ +countess was writing to her son.\ +\ +"Sonya!" said the countess, raising her eyes from her letter as her\ +niece passed, "Sonya, won't you write to Nicholas?" She spoke in a soft,\ +tremulous voice, and in the weary eyes that looked over her spectacles\ +Sonya read all that the countess meant to convey with these words. Those\ +eyes expressed entreaty, shame at having to ask, fear of a refusal, and\ +readiness for relentless hatred in case of such refusal.\ +\ +Sonya went up to the countess and, kneeling down, kissed her hand.\ +\ +"Yes, Mamma, I will write," said she.\ +\ +Sonya was softened, excited, and touched by all that had occurred that\ +day, especially by the mysterious fulfillment she had just seen of her\ +vision. Now that she knew that the renewal of Natasha's relations with\ +Prince Andrew would prevent Nicholas from marrying Princess Mary, she\ +was joyfully conscious of a return of that self-sacrificing spirit in\ +which she was accustomed to live and loved to live. So with a joyful\ +consciousness of performing a magnanimous deed--interrupted several\ +times by the tears that dimmed her velvety black eyes--she wrote that\ +touching letter the arrival of which had so amazed Nicholas.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER IX\ +\ +The officer and soldiers who had arrested Pierre treated him with\ +hostility but yet with respect, in the guardhouse to which he was taken.\ +In their attitude toward him could still be felt both uncertainty as to\ +who he might be--perhaps a very important person--and hostility as a\ +result of their recent personal conflict with him.\ +\ +But when the guard was relieved next morning, Pierre felt that for the\ +new guard--both officers and men--he was not as interesting as he had\ +been to his captors; and in fact the guard of the second day did not\ +recognize in this big, stout man in a peasant coat the vigorous person\ +who had fought so desperately with the marauder and the convoy and had\ +uttered those solemn words about saving a child; they saw in him only\ +No. 17 of the captured Russians, arrested and detained for some reason\ +by order of the Higher Command. If they noticed anything remarkable\ +about Pierre, it was only his unabashed, meditative concentration and\ +thoughtfulness, and the way he spoke French, which struck them as\ +surprisingly good. In spite of this he was placed that day with the\ +other arrested suspects, as the separate room he had occupied was\ +required by an officer.\ +\ +All the Russians confined with Pierre were men of the lowest class and,\ +recognizing him as a gentleman, they all avoided him, more especially as\ +he spoke French. Pierre felt sad at hearing them making fun of him.\ +\ +That evening he learned that all these prisoners (he, probably, among\ +them) were to be tried for incendiarism. On the third day he was taken\ +with the others to a house where a French general with a white mustache\ +sat with two colonels and other Frenchmen with scarves on their arms.\ +With the precision and definiteness customary in addressing prisoners,\ +and which is supposed to preclude human frailty, Pierre like the others\ +was questioned as to who he was, where he had been, with what object,\ +and so on.\ +\ +These questions, like questions put at trials generally, left the\ +essence of the matter aside, shut out the possibility of that essence's\ +being revealed, and were designed only to form a channel through which\ +the judges wished the answers of the accused to flow so as to lead to\ +the desired result, namely a conviction. As soon as Pierre began to say\ +anything that did not fit in with that aim, the channel was removed and\ +the water could flow to waste. Pierre felt, moreover, what the accused\ +always feel at their trial, perplexity as to why these questions were\ +put to him. He had a feeling that it was only out of condescension or a\ +kind of civility that this device of placing a channel was employed. He\ +knew he was in these men's power, that only by force had they brought\ +him there, that force alone gave them the right to demand answers to\ +their questions, and that the sole object of that assembly was to\ +inculpate him. And so, as they had the power and wish to inculpate him,\ +this expedient of an inquiry and trial seemed unnecessary. It was\ +evident that any answer would lead to conviction. When asked what he was\ +doing when he was arrested, Pierre replied in a rather tragic manner\ +that he was restoring to its parents a child he had saved from the\ +flames. Why had he fought the marauder? Pierre answered that he "was\ +protecting a woman," and that "to protect a woman who was being insulted\ +was the duty of every man; that..." They interrupted him, for this was\ +not to the point. Why was he in the yard of a burning house where\ +witnesses had seen him? He replied that he had gone out to see what was\ +happening in Moscow. Again they interrupted him: they had not asked\ +where he was going, but why he was found near the fire? Who was he? they\ +asked, repeating their first question, which he had declined to answer.\ +Again he replied that he could not answer it.\ +\ +"Put that down, that's bad... very bad," sternly remarked the general\ +with the white mustache and red flushed face.\ +\ +On the fourth day fires broke out on the Zubovski rampart.\ +\ +Pierre and thirteen others were moved to the coach house of a merchant's\ +house near the Crimean bridge. On his way through the streets Pierre\ +felt stifled by the smoke which seemed to hang over the whole city.\ +Fires were visible on all sides. He did not then realize the\ +significance of the burning of Moscow, and looked at the fires with\ +horror.\ +\ +He passed four days in the coach house near the Crimean bridge and\ +during that time learned, from the talk of the French soldiers, that all\ +those confined there were awaiting a decision which might come any day\ +from the marshal. What marshal this was, Pierre could not learn from the\ +soldiers. Evidently for them "the marshal" represented a very high and\ +rather mysterious power.\ +\ +These first days, before the eighth of September when the prisoners were\ +had up for a second examination, were the hardest of all for Pierre.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER X\ +\ +On the eighth of September an officer--a very important one judging by\ +the respect the guards showed him--entered the coach house where the\ +prisoners were. This officer, probably someone on the staff, was holding\ +a paper in his hand, and called over all the Russians there, naming\ +Pierre as "the man who does not give his name." Glancing indolently and\ +indifferently at all the prisoners, he ordered the officer in charge to\ +have them decently dressed and tidied up before taking them to the\ +marshal. An hour later a squad of soldiers arrived and Pierre with\ +thirteen others was led to the Virgin's Field. It was a fine day, sunny\ +after rain, and the air was unusually pure. The smoke did not hang low\ +as on the day when Pierre had been taken from the guardhouse on the\ +Zubovski rampart, but rose through the pure air in columns. No flames\ +were seen, but columns of smoke rose on all sides, and all Moscow as far\ +as Pierre could see was one vast charred ruin. On all sides there were\ +waste spaces with only stoves and chimney stacks still standing, and\ +here and there the blackened walls of some brick houses. Pierre gazed at\ +the ruins and did not recognize districts he had known well. Here and\ +there he could see churches that had not been burned. The Kremlin, which\ +was not destroyed, gleamed white in the distance with its towers and the\ +belfry of Ivan the Great. The domes of the New Convent of the Virgin\ +glittered brightly and its bells were ringing particularly clearly.\ +These bells reminded Pierre that it was Sunday and the feast of the\ +Nativity of the Virgin. But there seemed to be no one to celebrate this\ +holiday: everywhere were blackened ruins, and the few Russians to be\ +seen were tattered and frightened people who tried to hide when they saw\ +the French.\ +\ +It was plain that the Russian nest was ruined and destroyed, but in\ +place of the Russian order of life that had been destroyed, Pierre\ +unconsciously felt that a quite different, firm, French order had been\ +established over this ruined nest. He felt this in the looks of the\ +soldiers who, marching in regular ranks briskly and gaily, were\ +escorting him and the other criminals; he felt it in the looks of an\ +important French official in a carriage and pair driven by a soldier,\ +whom they met on the way. He felt it in the merry sounds of regimental\ +music he heard from the left side of the field, and felt and realized it\ +especially from the list of prisoners the French officer had read out\ +when he came that morning. Pierre had been taken by one set of soldiers\ +and led first to one and then to another place with dozens of other men,\ +and it seemed that they might have forgotten him, or confused him with\ +the others. But no: the answers he had given when questioned had come\ +back to him in his designation as "the man who does not give his name,"\ +and under that appellation, which to Pierre seemed terrible, they were\ +now leading him somewhere with unhesitating assurance on their faces\ +that he and all the other prisoners were exactly the ones they wanted\ +and that they were being taken to the proper place. Pierre felt himself\ +to be an insignificant chip fallen among the wheels of a machine whose\ +action he did not understand but which was working well.\ +\ +He and the other prisoners were taken to the right side of the Virgin's\ +Field, to a large white house with an immense garden not far from the\ +convent. This was Prince Shcherbitov's house, where Pierre had often\ +been in other days, and which, as he learned from the talk of the\ +soldiers, was now occupied by the marshal, the Duke of Eckmuhl (Davout).\ +\ +They were taken to the entrance and led into the house one by one.\ +Pierre was the sixth to enter. He was conducted through a glass gallery,\ +an anteroom, and a hall, which were familiar to him, into a long low\ +study at the door of which stood an adjutant.\ +\ +Davout, spectacles on nose, sat bent over a table at the further end of\ +the room. Pierre went close up to him, but Davout, evidently consulting\ +a paper that lay before him, did not look up. Without raising his eyes,\ +he said in a low voice:\ +\ +"Who are you?"\ +\ +Pierre was silent because he was incapable of uttering a word. To him\ +Davout was not merely a French general, but a man notorious for his\ +cruelty. Looking at his cold face, as he sat like a stern schoolmaster\ +who was prepared to wait awhile for an answer, Pierre felt that every\ +instant of delay might cost him his life; but he did not know what to\ +say. He did not venture to repeat what he had said at his first\ +examination, yet to disclose his rank and position was dangerous and\ +embarrassing. So he was silent. But before he had decided what to do,\ +Davout raised his head, pushed his spectacles back on his forehead,\ +screwed up his eyes, and looked intently at him.\ +\ +"I know that man," he said in a cold, measured tone, evidently\ +calculated to frighten Pierre.\ +\ +The chill that had been running down Pierre's back now seized his head\ +as in a vise.\ +\ +"You cannot know me, General, I have never seen you..."\ +\ +"He is a Russian spy," Davout interrupted, addressing another general\ +who was present, but whom Pierre had not noticed.\ +\ +Davout turned away. With an unexpected reverberation in his voice Pierre\ +rapidly began:\ +\ +"No, monseigneur," he said, suddenly remembering that Davout was a duke.\ +"No, monseigneur, you cannot have known me. I am a militia officer and\ +have not quitted Moscow."\ +\ +"Your name?" asked Davout.\ +\ +"Bezukhov."\ +\ +"What proof have I that you are not lying?"\ +\ +"Monseigneur!" exclaimed Pierre, not in an offended but in a pleading\ +voice.\ +\ +Davout looked up and gazed intently at him. For some seconds they looked\ +at one another, and that look saved Pierre. Apart from conditions of war\ +and law, that look established human relations between the two men. At\ +that moment an immense number of things passed dimly through both their\ +minds, and they realized that they were both children of humanity and\ +were brothers.\ +\ +At the first glance, when Davout had only raised his head from the\ +papers where human affairs and lives were indicated by numbers, Pierre\ +was merely a circumstance, and Davout could have shot him without\ +burdening his conscience with an evil deed, but now he saw in him a\ +human being. He reflected for a moment.\ +\ +"How can you show me that you are telling the truth?" said Davout\ +coldly.\ +\ +Pierre remembered Ramballe, and named him and his regiment and the\ +street where the house was.\ +\ +"You are not what you say," returned Davout.\ +\ +In a trembling, faltering voice Pierre began adducing proofs of the\ +truth of his statements.\ +\ +But at that moment an adjutant entered and reported something to Davout.\ +\ +Davout brightened up at the news the adjutant brought, and began\ +buttoning up his uniform. It seemed that he had quite forgotten Pierre.\ +\ +When the adjutant reminded him of the prisoner, he jerked his head in\ +Pierre's direction with a frown and ordered him to be led away. But\ +where they were to take him Pierre did not know: back to the coach house\ +or to the place of execution his companions had pointed out to him as\ +they crossed the Virgin's Field.\ +\ +He turned his head and saw that the adjutant was putting another\ +question to Davout.\ +\ +"Yes, of course!" replied Davout, but what this "yes" meant, Pierre did\ +not know.\ +\ +Pierre could not afterwards remember how he went, whether it was far, or\ +in which direction. His faculties were quite numbed, he was stupefied,\ +and noticing nothing around him went on moving his legs as the others\ +did till they all stopped and he stopped too. The only thought in his\ +mind at that time was: who was it that had really sentenced him to\ +death? Not the men on the commission that had first examined him--not\ +one of them wished to or, evidently, could have done it. It was not\ +Davout, who had looked at him in so human a way. In another moment\ +Davout would have realized that he was doing wrong, but just then the\ +adjutant had come in and interrupted him. The adjutant, also, had\ +evidently had no evil intent though he might have refrained from coming\ +in. Then who was executing him, killing him, depriving him of life--him,\ +Pierre, with all his memories, aspirations, hopes, and thoughts? Who was\ +doing this? And Pierre felt that it was no one.\ +\ +It was a system--a concurrence of circumstances.\ +\ +A system of some sort was killing him--Pierre--depriving him of life, of\ +everything, annihilating him.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XI\ +\ +From Prince Shcherbatov's house the prisoners were led straight down the\ +Virgin's Field, to the left of the nunnery, as far as a kitchen garden\ +in which a post had been set up. Beyond that post a fresh pit had been\ +dug in the ground, and near the post and the pit a large crowd stood in\ +a semicircle. The crowd consisted of a few Russians and many of\ +Napoleon's soldiers who were not on duty--Germans, Italians, and\ +Frenchmen, in a variety of uniforms. To the right and left of the post\ +stood rows of French troops in blue uniforms with red epaulets and high\ +boots and shakos.\ +\ +The prisoners were placed in a certain order, according to the list\ +(Pierre was sixth), and were led to the post. Several drums suddenly\ +began to beat on both sides of them, and at that sound Pierre felt as if\ +part of his soul had been torn away. He lost the power of thinking or\ +understanding. He could only hear and see. And he had only one wish--\ +that the frightful thing that had to happen should happen quickly.\ +Pierre looked round at his fellow prisoners and scrutinized them.\ +\ +The two first were convicts with shaven heads. One was tall and thin,\ +the other dark, shaggy, and sinewy, with a flat nose. The third was a\ +domestic serf, about forty-five years old, with grizzled hair and a\ +plump, well-nourished body. The fourth was a peasant, a very handsome\ +man with a broad, light-brown beard and black eyes. The fifth was a\ +factory hand, a thin, sallow-faced lad of eighteen in a loose coat.\ +\ +Pierre heard the French consulting whether to shoot them separately or\ +two at a time. "In couples," replied the officer in command in a calm\ +voice. There was a stir in the ranks of the soldiers and it was evident\ +that they were all hurrying--not as men hurry to do something they\ +understand, but as people hurry to finish a necessary but unpleasant and\ +incomprehensible task.\ +\ +A French official wearing a scarf came up to the right of the row of\ +prisoners and read out the sentence in Russian and in French.\ +\ +Then two pairs of Frenchmen approached the criminals and at the\ +officer's command took the two convicts who stood first in the row. The\ +convicts stopped when they reached the post and, while sacks were being\ +brought, looked dumbly around as a wounded beast looks at an approaching\ +huntsman. One crossed himself continually, the other scratched his back\ +and made a movement of the lips resembling a smile. With hurried hands\ +the soldiers blindfolded them, drawing the sacks over their heads, and\ +bound them to the post.\ +\ +Twelve sharpshooters with muskets stepped out of the ranks with a firm\ +regular tread and halted eight paces from the post. Pierre turned away\ +to avoid seeing what was going to happen. Suddenly a crackling, rolling\ +noise was heard which seemed to him louder than the most terrific\ +thunder, and he looked round. There was some smoke, and the Frenchmen\ +were doing something near the pit, with pale faces and trembling hands.\ +Two more prisoners were led up. In the same way and with similar looks,\ +these two glanced vainly at the onlookers with only a silent appeal for\ +protection in their eyes, evidently unable to understand or believe what\ +was going to happen to them. They could not believe it because they\ +alone knew what their life meant to them, and so they neither understood\ +nor believed that it could be taken from them.\ +\ +Again Pierre did not wish to look and again turned away; but again the\ +sound as of a frightful explosion struck his ear, and at the same moment\ +he saw smoke, blood, and the pale, scared faces of the Frenchmen who\ +were again doing something by the post, their trembling hands impeding\ +one another. Pierre, breathing heavily, looked around as if asking what\ +it meant. The same question was expressed in all the looks that met his.\ +\ +On the faces of all the Russians and of the French soldiers and officers\ +without exception, he read the same dismay, horror, and conflict that\ +were in his own heart. "But who, after all, is doing this? They are all\ +suffering as I am. Who then is it? Who?" flashed for an instant through\ +his mind.\ +\ +"Sharpshooters of the 86th, forward!" shouted someone. The fifth\ +prisoner, the one next to Pierre, was led away--alone. Pierre did not\ +understand that he was saved, that he and the rest had been brought\ +there only to witness the execution. With ever-growing horror, and no\ +sense of joy or relief, he gazed at what was taking place. The fifth man\ +was the factory lad in the loose cloak. The moment they laid hands on\ +him he sprang aside in terror and clutched at Pierre. (Pierre shuddered\ +and shook himself free.) The lad was unable to walk. They dragged him\ +along, holding him up under the arms, and he screamed. When they got him\ +to the post he grew quiet, as if he suddenly understood something.\ +Whether he understood that screaming was useless or whether he thought\ +it incredible that men should kill him, at any rate he took his stand at\ +the post, waiting to be blindfolded like the others, and like a wounded\ +animal looked around him with glittering eyes.\ +\ +Pierre was no longer able to turn away and close his eyes. His curiosity\ +and agitation, like that of the whole crowd, reached the highest pitch\ +at this fifth murder. Like the others this fifth man seemed calm; he\ +wrapped his loose cloak closer and rubbed one bare foot with the other.\ +\ +When they began to blindfold him he himself adjusted the knot which hurt\ +the back of his head; then when they propped him against the\ +bloodstained post, he leaned back and, not being comfortable in that\ +position, straightened himself, adjusted his feet, and leaned back again\ +more comfortably. Pierre did not take his eyes from him and did not miss\ +his slightest movement.\ +\ +Probably a word of command was given and was followed by the reports of\ +eight muskets; but try as he would Pierre could not afterwards remember\ +having heard the slightest sound of the shots. He only saw how the\ +workman suddenly sank down on the cords that held him, how blood showed\ +itself in two places, how the ropes slackened under the weight of the\ +hanging body, and how the workman sat down, his head hanging unnaturally\ +and one leg bent under him. Pierre ran up to the post. No one hindered\ +him. Pale, frightened people were doing something around the workman.\ +The lower jaw of an old Frenchman with a thick mustache trembled as he\ +untied the ropes. The body collapsed. The soldiers dragged it awkwardly\ +from the post and began pushing it into the pit.\ +\ +They all plainly and certainly knew that they were criminals who must\ +hide the traces of their guilt as quickly as possible.\ +\ +Pierre glanced into the pit and saw that the factory lad was lying with\ +his knees close up to his head and one shoulder higher than the other.\ +That shoulder rose and fell rhythmically and convulsively, but spadefuls\ +of earth were already being thrown over the whole body. One of the\ +soldiers, evidently suffering, shouted gruffly and angrily at Pierre to\ +go back. But Pierre did not understand him and remained near the post,\ +and no one drove him away.\ +\ +When the pit had been filled up a command was given. Pierre was taken\ +back to his place, and the rows of troops on both sides of the post made\ +a half turn and went past it at a measured pace. The twenty-four\ +sharpshooters with discharged muskets, standing in the center of the\ +circle, ran back to their places as the companies passed by.\ +\ +Pierre gazed now with dazed eyes at these sharpshooters who ran in\ +couples out of the circle. All but one rejoined their companies. This\ +one, a young soldier, his face deadly pale, his shako pushed back, and\ +his musket resting on the ground, still stood near the pit at the spot\ +from which he had fired. He swayed like a drunken man, taking some steps\ +forward and back to save himself from falling. An old, noncommissioned\ +officer ran out of the ranks and taking him by the elbow dragged him to\ +his company. The crowd of Russians and Frenchmen began to disperse. They\ +all went away silently and with drooping heads.\ +\ +"That will teach them to start fires," said one of the Frenchmen.\ +\ +Pierre glanced round at the speaker and saw that it was a soldier who\ +was trying to find some relief after what had been done, but was not\ +able to do so. Without finishing what he had begun to say he made a\ +hopeless movement with his arm and went away.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XII\ +\ +After the execution Pierre was separated from the rest of the prisoners\ +and placed alone in a small, ruined, and befouled church.\ +\ +Toward evening a noncommissioned officer entered with two soldiers and\ +told him that he had been pardoned and would now go to the barracks for\ +the prisoners of war. Without understanding what was said to him, Pierre\ +got up and went with the soldiers. They took him to the upper end of the\ +field, where there were some sheds built of charred planks, beams, and\ +battens, and led him into one of them. In the darkness some twenty\ +different men surrounded Pierre. He looked at them without understanding\ +who they were, why they were there, or what they wanted of him. He heard\ +what they said, but did not understand the meaning of the words and made\ +no kind of deduction from or application of them. He replied to\ +questions they put to him, but did not consider who was listening to his\ +replies, nor how they would understand them. He looked at their faces\ +and figures, but they all seemed to him equally meaningless.\ +\ +From the moment Pierre had witnessed those terrible murders committed by\ +men who did not wish to commit them, it was as if the mainspring of his\ +life, on which everything depended and which made everything appear\ +alive, had suddenly been wrenched out and everything had collapsed into\ +a heap of meaningless rubbish. Though he did not acknowledge it to\ +himself, his faith in the right ordering of the universe, in humanity,\ +in his own soul, and in God, had been destroyed. He had experienced this\ +before, but never so strongly as now. When similar doubts had assailed\ +him before, they had been the result of his own wrongdoing, and at the\ +bottom of his heart he had felt that relief from his despair and from\ +those doubts was to be found within himself. But now he felt that the\ +universe had crumbled before his eyes and only meaningless ruins\ +remained, and this not by any fault of his own. He felt that it was not\ +in his power to regain faith in the meaning of life.\ +\ +Around him in the darkness men were standing and evidently something\ +about him interested them greatly. They were telling him something and\ +asking him something. Then they led him away somewhere, and at last he\ +found himself in a corner of the shed among men who were laughing and\ +talking on all sides.\ +\ +"Well, then, mates... that very prince who..." some voice at the other\ +end of the shed was saying, with a strong emphasis on the word who.\ +\ +Sitting silent and motionless on a heap of straw against the wall,\ +Pierre sometimes opened and sometimes closed his eyes. But as soon as he\ +closed them he saw before him the dreadful face of the factory lad--\ +especially dreadful because of its simplicity--and the faces of the\ +murderers, even more dreadful because of their disquiet. And he opened\ +his eyes again and stared vacantly into the darkness around him.\ +\ +Beside him in a stooping position sat a small man of whose presence he\ +was first made aware by a strong smell of perspiration which came from\ +him every time he moved. This man was doing something to his legs in the\ +darkness, and though Pierre could not see his face he felt that the man\ +continually glanced at him. On growing used to the darkness Pierre saw\ +that the man was taking off his leg bands, and the way he did it aroused\ +Pierre's interest.\ +\ +Having unwound the string that tied the band on one leg, he carefully\ +coiled it up and immediately set to work on the other leg, glancing up\ +at Pierre. While one hand hung up the first string the other was already\ +unwinding the band on the second leg. In this way, having carefully\ +removed the leg bands by deft circular motions of his arm following one\ +another uninterruptedly, the man hung the leg bands up on some pegs\ +fixed above his head. Then he took out a knife, cut something, closed\ +the knife, placed it under the head of his bed, and, seating himself\ +comfortably, clasped his arms round his lifted knees and fixed his eyes\ +on Pierre. The latter was conscious of something pleasant, comforting,\ +and well-rounded in these deft movements, in the man's well-ordered\ +arrangements in his corner, and even in his very smell, and he looked at\ +the man without taking his eyes from him.\ +\ +"You've seen a lot of trouble, sir, eh?" the little man suddenly said.\ +\ +And there was so much kindliness and simplicity in his singsong voice\ +that Pierre tried to reply, but his jaw trembled and he felt tears\ +rising to his eyes. The little fellow, giving Pierre no time to betray\ +his confusion, instantly continued in the same pleasant tones:\ +\ +"Eh, lad, don't fret!" said he, in the tender singsong caressing voice\ +old Russian peasant women employ. "Don't fret, friend--'suffer an hour,\ +live for an age!' that's how it is, my dear fellow. And here we live,\ +thank heaven, without offense. Among these folk, too, there are good men\ +as well as bad," said he, and still speaking, he turned on his knees\ +with a supple movement, got up, coughed, and went off to another part of\ +the shed.\ +\ +"Eh, you rascal!" Pierre heard the same kind voice saying at the other\ +end of the shed. "So you've come, you rascal? She remembers... Now, now,\ +that'll do!"\ +\ +And the soldier, pushing away a little dog that was jumping up at him,\ +returned to his place and sat down. In his hands he had something\ +wrapped in a rag.\ +\ +"Here, eat a bit, sir," said he, resuming his former respectful tone as\ +he unwrapped and offered Pierre some baked potatoes. "We had soup for\ +dinner and the potatoes are grand!"\ +\ +Pierre had not eaten all day and the smell of the potatoes seemed\ +extremely pleasant to him. He thanked the soldier and began to eat.\ +\ +"Well, are they all right?" said the soldier with a smile. "You should\ +do like this."\ +\ +He took a potato, drew out his clasp knife, cut the potato into two\ +equal halves on the palm of his hand, sprinkled some salt on it from the\ +rag, and handed it to Pierre.\ +\ +"The potatoes are grand!" he said once more. "Eat some like that!"\ +\ +Pierre thought he had never eaten anything that tasted better.\ +\ +"Oh, I'm all right," said he, "but why did they shoot those poor\ +fellows? The last one was hardly twenty."\ +\ +"Tss, tt...!" said the little man. "Ah, what a sin... what a sin!" he\ +added quickly, and as if his words were always waiting ready in his\ +mouth and flew out involuntarily he went on: "How was it, sir, that you\ +stayed in Moscow?"\ +\ +"I didn't think they would come so soon. I stayed accidentally," replied\ +Pierre.\ +\ +"And how did they arrest you, dear lad? At your house?"\ +\ +"No, I went to look at the fire, and they arrested me there, and tried\ +me as an incendiary."\ +\ +"Where there's law there's injustice," put in the little man.\ +\ +"And have you been here long?" Pierre asked as he munched the last of\ +the potato.\ +\ +"I? It was last Sunday they took me, out of a hospital in Moscow."\ +\ +"Why, are you a soldier then?"\ +\ +"Yes, we are soldiers of the Apsheron regiment. I was dying of fever. We\ +weren't told anything. There were some twenty of us lying there. We had\ +no idea, never guessed at all."\ +\ +"And do you feel sad here?" Pierre inquired.\ +\ +"How can one help it, lad? My name is Platon, and the surname is\ +Karataev," he added, evidently wishing to make it easier for Pierre to\ +address him. "They call me 'little falcon' in the regiment. How is one\ +to help feeling sad? Moscow--she's the mother of cities. How can one see\ +all this and not feel sad? But 'the maggot gnaws the cabbage, yet dies\ +first'; that's what the old folks used to tell us," he added rapidly.\ +\ +"What? What did you say?" asked Pierre.\ +\ +"Who? I?" said Karataev. "I say things happen not as we plan but as God\ +judges," he replied, thinking that he was repeating what he had said\ +before, and immediately continued:\ +\ +"Well, and you, have you a family estate, sir? And a house? So you have\ +abundance, then? And a housewife? And your old parents, are they still\ +living?" he asked.\ +\ +And though it was too dark for Pierre to see, he felt that a suppressed\ +smile of kindliness puckered the soldier's lips as he put these\ +questions. He seemed grieved that Pierre had no parents, especially that\ +he had no mother.\ +\ +"A wife for counsel, a mother-in-law for welcome, but there's none as\ +dear as one's own mother!" said he. "Well, and have you little ones?" he\ +went on asking.\ +\ +Again Pierre's negative answer seemed to distress him, and he hastened\ +to add:\ +\ +"Never mind! You're young folks yet, and please God may still have some.\ +The great thing is to live in harmony...."\ +\ +"But it's all the same now," Pierre could not help saying.\ +\ +"Ah, my dear fellow!" rejoined Karataev, "never decline a prison or a\ +beggar's sack!"\ +\ +He seated himself more comfortably and coughed, evidently preparing to\ +tell a long story.\ +\ +"Well, my dear fellow, I was still living at home," he began. "We had a\ +well-to-do homestead, plenty of land, we peasants lived well and our\ +house was one to thank God for. When Father and we went out mowing there\ +were seven of us. We lived well. We were real peasants. It so\ +happened..."\ +\ +And Platon Karataev told a long story of how he had gone into someone's\ +copse to take wood, how he had been caught by the keeper, had been\ +tried, flogged, and sent to serve as a soldier.\ +\ +"Well, lad," and a smile changed the tone of his voice "we thought it\ +was a misfortune but it turned out a blessing! If it had not been for my\ +sin, my brother would have had to go as a soldier. But he, my younger\ +brother, had five little ones, while I, you see, only left a wife\ +behind. We had a little girl, but God took her before I went as a\ +soldier. I come home on leave and I'll tell you how it was, I look and\ +see that they are living better than before. The yard full of cattle,\ +the women at home, two brothers away earning wages, and only Michael the\ +youngest, at home. Father, he says, 'All my children are the same to me:\ +it hurts the same whichever finger gets bitten. But if Platon hadn't\ +been shaved for a soldier, Michael would have had to go.' called us all\ +to him and, will you believe it, placed us in front of the icons.\ +'Michael,' he says, 'come here and bow down to his feet; and you, young\ +woman, you bow down too; and you, grandchildren, also bow down before\ +him! Do you understand?' he says. That's how it is, dear fellow. Fate\ +looks for a head. But we are always judging, 'that's not well--that's\ +not right!' Our luck is like water in a dragnet: you pull at it and it\ +bulges, but when you've drawn it out it's empty! That's how it is."\ +\ +And Platon shifted his seat on the straw.\ +\ +After a short silence he rose.\ +\ +"Well, I think you must be sleepy," said he, and began rapidly crossing\ +himself and repeating:\ +\ +"Lord Jesus Christ, holy Saint Nicholas, Frola and Lavra! Lord Jesus\ +Christ, holy Saint Nicholas, Frola and Lavra! Lord Jesus Christ, have\ +mercy on us and save us!" he concluded, then bowed to the ground, got\ +up, sighed, and sat down again on his heap of straw. "That's the way.\ +Lay me down like a stone, O God, and raise me up like a loaf," he\ +muttered as he lay down, pulling his coat over him.\ +\ +"What prayer was that you were saying?" asked Pierre.\ +\ +"Eh?" murmured Platon, who had almost fallen asleep. "What was I saying?\ +I was praying. Don't you pray?"\ +\ +"Yes, I do," said Pierre. "But what was that you said: Frola and Lavra?"\ +\ +"Well, of course," replied Platon quickly, "the horses' saints. One must\ +pity the animals too. Eh, the rascal! Now you've curled up and got warm,\ +you daughter of a bitch!" said Karataev, touching the dog that lay at\ +his feet, and again turning over he fell asleep immediately.\ +\ +Sounds of crying and screaming came from somewhere in the distance\ +outside, and flames were visible through the cracks of the shed, but\ +inside it was quiet and dark. For a long time Pierre did not sleep, but\ +lay with eyes open in the darkness, listening to the regular snoring of\ +Platon who lay beside him, and he felt that the world that had been\ +shattered was once more stirring in his soul with a new beauty and on\ +new and unshakable foundations.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XIII\ +\ +Twenty-three soldiers, three officers, and two officials were confined\ +in the shed in which Pierre had been placed and where he remained for\ +four weeks.\ +\ +When Pierre remembered them afterwards they all seemed misty figures to\ +him except Platon Karataev, who always remained in his mind a most vivid\ +and precious memory and the personification of everything Russian,\ +kindly, and round. When Pierre saw his neighbor next morning at dawn the\ +first impression of him, as of something round, was fully confirmed:\ +Platon's whole figure--in a French overcoat girdled with a cord, a\ +soldier's cap, and bast shoes--was round. His head was quite round, his\ +back, chest, shoulders, and even his arms, which he held as if ever\ +ready to embrace something, were rounded, his pleasant smile and his\ +large, gentle brown eyes were also round.\ +\ +Platon Karataev must have been fifty, judging by his stories of\ +campaigns he had been in, told as by an old soldier. He did not himself\ +know his age and was quite unable to determine it. But his brilliantly\ +white, strong teeth which showed in two unbroken semicircles when he\ +laughed--as he often did--were all sound and good, there was not a gray\ +hair in his beard or on his head, and his whole body gave an impression\ +of suppleness and especially of firmness and endurance.\ +\ +His face, despite its fine, rounded wrinkles, had an expression of\ +innocence and youth, his voice was pleasant and musical. But the chief\ +peculiarity of his speech was its directness and appositeness. It was\ +evident that he never considered what he had said or was going to say,\ +and consequently the rapidity and justice of his intonation had an\ +irresistible persuasiveness.\ +\ +His physical strength and agility during the first days of his\ +imprisonment were such that he seemed not to know what fatigue and\ +sickness meant. Every night before lying down, he said: "Lord, lay me\ +down as a stone and raise me up as a loaf!" and every morning on getting\ +up, he said: "I lay down and curled up, I get up and shake myself." And\ +indeed he only had to lie down, to fall asleep like a stone, and he only\ +had to shake himself, to be ready without a moment's delay for some\ +work, just as children are ready to play directly they awake. He could\ +do everything, not very well but not badly. He baked, cooked, sewed,\ +planed, and mended boots. He was always busy, and only at night allowed\ +himself conversation--of which he was fond--and songs. He did not sing\ +like a trained singer who knows he is listened to, but like the birds,\ +evidently giving vent to the sounds in the same way that one stretches\ +oneself or walks about to get rid of stiffness, and the sounds were\ +always high-pitched, mournful, delicate, and almost feminine, and his\ +face at such times was very serious.\ +\ +Having been taken prisoner and allowed his beard to grow, he seemed to\ +have thrown off all that had been forced upon him--everything military\ +and alien to himself--and had returned to his former peasant habits.\ +\ +"A soldier on leave--a shirt outside breeches," he would say.\ +\ +He did not like talking about his life as a soldier, though he did not\ +complain, and often mentioned that he had not been flogged once during\ +the whole of his army service. When he related anything it was generally\ +some old and evidently precious memory of his "Christian" life, as he\ +called his peasant existence. The proverbs, of which his talk was full,\ +were for the most part not the coarse and indecent saws soldiers employ,\ +but those folk sayings which taken without a context seem so\ +insignificant, but when used appositely suddenly acquire a significance\ +of profound wisdom.\ +\ +He would often say the exact opposite of what he had said on a previous\ +occasion, yet both would be right. He liked to talk and he talked well,\ +adorning his speech with terms of endearment and with folk sayings which\ +Pierre thought he invented himself, but the chief charm of his talk lay\ +in the fact that the commonest events--sometimes just such as Pierre had\ +witnessed without taking notice of them--assumed in Karataev's a\ +character of solemn fitness. He liked to hear the folk tales one of the\ +soldiers used to tell of an evening (they were always the same), but\ +most of all he liked to hear stories of real life. He would smile\ +joyfully when listening to such stories, now and then putting in a word\ +or asking a question to make the moral beauty of what he was told clear\ +to himself. Karataev had no attachments, friendships, or love, as Pierre\ +understood them, but loved and lived affectionately with everything life\ +brought him in contact with, particularly with man--not any particular\ +man, but those with whom he happened to be. He loved his dog, his\ +comrades, the French, and Pierre who was his neighbor, but Pierre felt\ +that in spite of Karataev's affectionate tenderness for him (by which he\ +unconsciously gave Pierre's spiritual life its due) he would not have\ +grieved for a moment at parting from him. And Pierre began to feel in\ +the same way toward Karataev.\ +\ +To all the other prisoners Platon Karataev seemed a most ordinary\ +soldier. They called him "little falcon" or "Platosha," chaffed him\ +good-naturedly, and sent him on errands. But to Pierre he always\ +remained what he had seemed that first night: an unfathomable, rounded,\ +eternal personification of the spirit of simplicity and truth.\ +\ +Platon Karataev knew nothing by heart except his prayers. When he began\ +to speak he seemed not to know how he would conclude.\ +\ +Sometimes Pierre, struck by the meaning of his words, would ask him to\ +repeat them, but Platon could never recall what he had said a moment\ +before, just as he never could repeat to Pierre the words of his\ +favorite song: native and birch tree and my heart is sick occurred in\ +it, but when spoken and not sung, no meaning could be got out of it. He\ +did not, and could not, understand the meaning of words apart from their\ +context. Every word and action of his was the manifestation of an\ +activity unknown to him, which was his life. But his life, as he\ +regarded it, had no meaning as a separate thing. It had meaning only as\ +part of a whole of which he was always conscious. His words and actions\ +flowed from him as evenly, inevitably, and spontaneously as fragrance\ +exhales from a flower. He could not understand the value or significance\ +of any word or deed taken separately.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XIV\ +\ +When Princess Mary heard from Nicholas that her brother was with the\ +Rostovs at Yaroslavl she at once prepared to go there, in spite of her\ +aunt's efforts to dissuade her--and not merely to go herself but to take\ +her nephew with her. Whether it were difficult or easy, possible or\ +impossible, she did not ask and did not want to know: it was her duty,\ +not only to herself, to be near her brother who was perhaps dying, but\ +to do everything possible to take his son to him, and so she prepared to\ +set off. That she had not heard from Prince Andrew himself, Princess\ +Mary attributed to his being too weak to write or to his considering the\ +long journey too hard and too dangerous for her and his son.\ +\ +In a few days Princess Mary was ready to start. Her equipages were the\ +huge family coach in which she had traveled to Voronezh, a semiopen\ +trap, and a baggage cart. With her traveled Mademoiselle Bourienne,\ +little Nicholas and his tutor, her old nurse, three maids, Tikhon, and a\ +young footman and courier her aunt had sent to accompany her.\ +\ +The usual route through Moscow could not be thought of, and the\ +roundabout way Princess Mary was obliged to take through Lipetsk,\ +Ryazan, Vladimir, and Shuya was very long and, as post horses were not\ +everywhere obtainable, very difficult, and near Ryazan where the French\ +were said to have shown themselves was even dangerous.\ +\ +During this difficult journey Mademoiselle Bourienne, Dessalles, and\ +Princess Mary's servants were astonished at her energy and firmness of\ +spirit. She went to bed later and rose earlier than any of them, and no\ +difficulties daunted her. Thanks to her activity and energy, which\ +infected her fellow travelers, they approached Yaroslavl by the end of\ +the second week.\ +\ +The last days of her stay in Voronezh had been the happiest of her life.\ +Her love for Rostov no longer tormented or agitated her. It filled her\ +whole soul, had become an integral part of herself, and she no longer\ +struggled against it. Latterly she had become convinced that she loved\ +and was beloved, though she never said this definitely to herself in\ +words. She had become convinced of it at her last interview with\ +Nicholas, when he had come to tell her that her brother was with the\ +Rostovs. Not by a single word had Nicholas alluded to the fact that\ +Prince Andrew's relations with Natasha might, if he recovered, be\ +renewed, but Princess Mary saw by his face that he knew and thought of\ +this.\ +\ +Yet in spite of that, his relation to her--considerate, delicate, and\ +loving--not only remained unchanged, but it sometimes seemed to Princess\ +Mary that he was even glad that the family connection between them\ +allowed him to express his friendship more freely. She knew that she\ +loved for the first and only time in her life and felt that she was\ +beloved, and was happy in regard to it.\ +\ +But this happiness on one side of her spiritual nature did not prevent\ +her feeling grief for her brother with full force; on the contrary, that\ +spiritual tranquility on the one side made it the more possible for her\ +to give full play to her feeling for her brother. That feeling was so\ +strong at the moment of leaving Voronezh that those who saw her off, as\ +they looked at her careworn, despairing face, felt sure she would fall\ +ill on the journey. But the very difficulties and preoccupations of the\ +journey, which she took so actively in hand, saved her for a while from\ +her grief and gave her strength.\ +\ +As always happens when traveling, Princess Mary thought only of the\ +journey itself, forgetting its object. But as she approached Yaroslavl\ +the thought of what might await her there--not after many days, but that\ +very evening--again presented itself to her and her agitation increased\ +to its utmost limit.\ +\ +The courier who had been sent on in advance to find out where the\ +Rostovs were staying in Yaroslavl, and in what condition Prince Andrew\ +was, when he met the big coach just entering the town gates was appalled\ +by the terrible pallor of the princess' face that looked out at him from\ +the window.\ +\ +"I have found out everything, your excellency: the Rostovs are staying\ +at the merchant Bronnikov's house, in the Square not far from here,\ +right above the Volga," said the courier.\ +\ +Princess Mary looked at him with frightened inquiry, not understanding\ +why he did not reply to what she chiefly wanted to know: how was her\ +brother? Mademoiselle Bourienne put that question for her.\ +\ +"How is the prince?" she asked.\ +\ +"His excellency is staying in the same house with them."\ +\ +"Then he is alive," thought Princess Mary, and asked in a low voice:\ +"How is he?"\ +\ +"The servants say he is still the same."\ +\ +What "still the same" might mean Princess Mary did not ask, but with an\ +unnoticed glance at little seven-year-old Nicholas, who was sitting in\ +front of her looking with pleasure at the town, she bowed her head and\ +did not raise it again till the heavy coach, rumbling, shaking and\ +swaying, came to a stop. The carriage steps clattered as they were let\ +down.\ +\ +The carriage door was opened. On the left there was water--a great\ +river--and on the right a porch. There were people at the entrance:\ +servants, and a rosy girl with a large plait of black hair, smiling as\ +it seemed to Princess Mary in an unpleasantly affected way. (This was\ +Sonya.) Princess Mary ran up the steps. "This way, this way!" said the\ +girl, with the same artificial smile, and the princess found herself in\ +the hall facing an elderly woman of Oriental type, who came rapidly to\ +meet her with a look of emotion. This was the countess. She embraced\ +Princess Mary and kissed her.\ +\ +"Mon enfant!" she muttered, "je vous aime et vous connais depuis\ +longtemps." *\ +\ +\ +* "My child! I love you and have known you a long time."\ +\ +\ +Despite her excitement, Princess Mary realized that this was the\ +countess and that it was necessary to say something to her. Hardly\ +knowing how she did it, she contrived to utter a few polite phrases in\ +French in the same tone as those that had been addressed to her, and\ +asked: "How is he?"\ +\ +"The doctor says that he is not in danger," said the countess, but as\ +she spoke she raised her eyes with a sigh, and her gesture conveyed a\ +contradiction of her words.\ +\ +"Where is he? Can I see him--can I?" asked the princess.\ +\ +"One moment, Princess, one moment, my dear! Is this his son?" said the\ +countess, turning to little Nicholas who was coming in with Dessalles.\ +"There will be room for everybody, this is a big house. Oh, what a\ +lovely boy!"\ +\ +The countess took Princess Mary into the drawing room, where Sonya was\ +talking to Mademoiselle Bourienne. The countess caressed the boy, and\ +the old count came in and welcomed the princess. He had changed very\ +much since Princess Mary had last seen him. Then he had been a brisk,\ +cheerful, self-assured old man; now he seemed a pitiful, bewildered\ +person. While talking to Princess Mary he continually looked round as if\ +asking everyone whether he was doing the right thing. After the\ +destruction of Moscow and of his property, thrown out of his accustomed\ +groove he seemed to have lost the sense of his own significance and to\ +feel that there was no longer a place for him in life.\ +\ +In spite of her one desire to see her brother as soon as possible, and\ +her vexation that at the moment when all she wanted was to see him they\ +should be trying to entertain her and pretending to admire her nephew,\ +the princess noticed all that was going on around her and felt the\ +necessity of submitting, for a time, to this new order of things which\ +she had entered. She knew it to be necessary, and though it was hard for\ +her she was not vexed with these people.\ +\ +"This is my niece," said the count, introducing Sonya--"You don't know\ +her, Princess?"\ +\ +Princess Mary turned to Sonya and, trying to stifle the hostile feeling\ +that arose in her toward the girl, she kissed her. But she felt\ +oppressed by the fact that the mood of everyone around her was so far\ +from what was in her own heart.\ +\ +"Where is he?" she asked again, addressing them all.\ +\ +"He is downstairs. Natasha is with him," answered Sonya, flushing. "We\ +have sent to ask. I think you must be tired, Princess."\ +\ +Tears of vexation showed themselves in Princess Mary's eyes. She turned\ +away and was about to ask the countess again how to go to him, when\ +light, impetuous, and seemingly buoyant steps were heard at the door.\ +The princess looked round and saw Natasha coming in, almost running--\ +that Natasha whom she had liked so little at their meeting in Moscow\ +long since.\ +\ +But hardly had the princess looked at Natasha's face before she realized\ +that here was a real comrade in her grief, and consequently a friend.\ +She ran to meet her, embraced her, and began to cry on her shoulder.\ +\ +As soon as Natasha, sitting at the head of Prince Andrew's bed, heard of\ +Princess Mary's arrival, she softly left his room and hastened to her\ +with those swift steps that had sounded buoyant to Princess Mary.\ +\ +There was only one expression on her agitated face when she ran into the\ +drawing room--that of love--boundless love for him, for her, and for all\ +that was near to the man she loved; and of pity, suffering for others,\ +and passionate desire to give herself entirely to helping them. It was\ +plain that at that moment there was in Natasha's heart no thought of\ +herself or of her own relations with Prince Andrew.\ +\ +Princess Mary, with her acute sensibility, understood all this at the\ +first glance at Natasha's face, and wept on her shoulder with sorrowful\ +pleasure.\ +\ +"Come, come to him, Mary," said Natasha, leading her into the other\ +room.\ +\ +Princess Mary raised her head, dried her eyes, and turned to Natasha.\ +She felt that from her she would be able to understand and learn\ +everything.\ +\ +"How..." she began her question but stopped short.\ +\ +She felt that it was impossible to ask, or to answer, in words.\ +Natasha's face and eyes would have to tell her all more clearly and\ +profoundly.\ +\ +Natasha was gazing at her, but seemed afraid and in doubt whether to say\ +all she knew or not; she seemed to feel that before those luminous eyes\ +which penetrated into the very depths of her heart, it was impossible\ +not to tell the whole truth which she saw. And suddenly, Natasha's lips\ +twitched, ugly wrinkles gathered round her mouth, and covering her face\ +with her hands she burst into sobs.\ +\ +Princess Mary understood.\ +\ +But she still hoped, and asked, in words she herself did not trust:\ +\ +"But how is his wound? What is his general condition?"\ +\ +"You, you... will see," was all Natasha could say.\ +\ +They sat a little while downstairs near his room till they had left off\ +crying and were able to go to him with calm faces.\ +\ +"How has his whole illness gone? Is it long since he grew worse? When\ +did this happen?" Princess Mary inquired.\ +\ +Natasha told her that at first there had been danger from his feverish\ +condition and the pain he suffered, but at Troitsa that had passed and\ +the doctor had only been afraid of gangrene. That danger had also\ +passed. When they reached Yaroslavl the wound had begun to fester\ +(Natasha knew all about such things as festering) and the doctor had\ +said that the festering might take a normal course. Then fever set in,\ +but the doctor had said the fever was not very serious.\ +\ +"But two days ago this suddenly happened," said Natasha, struggling with\ +her sobs. "I don't know why, but you will see what he is like."\ +\ +"Is he weaker? Thinner?" asked the princess.\ +\ +"No, it's not that, but worse. You will see. O, Mary, he is too good, he\ +cannot, cannot live, because..."\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XV\ +\ +When Natasha opened Prince Andrew's door with a familiar movement and\ +let Princess Mary pass into the room before her, the princess felt the\ +sobs in her throat. Hard as she had tried to prepare herself, and now\ +tried to remain tranquil, she knew that she would be unable to look at\ +him without tears.\ +\ +The princess understood what Natasha had meant by the words: "two days\ +ago this suddenly happened." She understood those words to mean that he\ +had suddenly softened and that this softening and gentleness were signs\ +of approaching death. As she stepped to the door she already saw in\ +imagination Andrew's face as she remembered it in childhood, a gentle,\ +mild, sympathetic face which he had rarely shown, and which therefore\ +affected her very strongly. She was sure he would speak soft, tender\ +words to her such as her father had uttered before his death, and that\ +she would not be able to bear it and would burst into sobs in his\ +presence. Yet sooner or later it had to be, and she went in. The sobs\ +rose higher and higher in her throat as she more and more clearly\ +distinguished his form and her shortsighted eyes tried to make out his\ +features, and then she saw his face and met his gaze.\ +\ +He was lying in a squirrel-fur dressing gown on a divan, surrounded by\ +pillows. He was thin and pale. In one thin, translucently white hand he\ +held a handkerchief, while with the other he stroked the delicate\ +mustache he had grown, moving his fingers slowly. His eyes gazed at them\ +as they entered.\ +\ +On seeing his face and meeting his eyes Princess Mary's pace suddenly\ +slackened, she felt her tears dry up and her sobs ceased. She suddenly\ +felt guilty and grew timid on catching the expression of his face and\ +eyes.\ +\ +"But in what am I to blame?" she asked herself. And his cold, stern look\ +replied: "Because you are alive and thinking of the living, while I..."\ +\ +In the deep gaze that seemed to look not outwards but inwards there was\ +an almost hostile expression as he slowly regarded his sister and\ +Natasha.\ +\ +He kissed his sister, holding her hand in his as was their wont.\ +\ +"How are you, Mary? How did you manage to get here?" said he in a voice\ +as calm and aloof as his look.\ +\ +Had he screamed in agony, that scream would not have struck such horror\ +into Princess Mary's heart as the tone of his voice.\ +\ +"And have you brought little Nicholas?" he asked in the same slow, quiet\ +manner and with an obvious effort to remember.\ +\ +"How are you now?" said Princess Mary, herself surprised at what she was\ +saying.\ +\ +"That, my dear, you must ask the doctor," he replied, and again making\ +an evident effort to be affectionate, he said with his lips only (his\ +words clearly did not correspond to his thoughts):\ +\ +"Merci, chere amie, d'etre venue." *\ +\ +\ +* "Thank you for coming, my dear."\ +\ +Princess Mary pressed his hand. The pressure made him wince just\ +perceptibly. He was silent, and she did not know what to say. She now\ +understood what had happened to him two days before. In his words, his\ +tone, and especially in that calm, almost antagonistic look could be\ +felt an estrangement from everything belonging to this world, terrible\ +in one who is alive. Evidently only with an effort did he understand\ +anything living; but it was obvious that he failed to understand, not\ +because he lacked the power to do so but because he understood something\ +else--something the living did not and could not understand--and which\ +wholly occupied his mind.\ +\ +"There, you see how strangely fate has brought us together," said he,\ +breaking the silence and pointing to Natasha. "She looks after me all\ +the time."\ +\ +Princess Mary heard him and did not understand how he could say such a\ +thing. He, the sensitive, tender Prince Andrew, how could he say that,\ +before her whom he loved and who loved him? Had he expected to live he\ +could not have said those words in that offensively cold tone. If he had\ +not known that he was dying, how could he have failed to pity her and\ +how could he speak like that in her presence? The only explanation was\ +that he was indifferent, because something else, much more important,\ +had been revealed to him.\ +\ +The conversation was cold and disconnected and continually broke off.\ +\ +"Mary came by way of Ryazan," said Natasha.\ +\ +Prince Andrew did not notice that she called his sister Mary, and only\ +after calling her so in his presence did Natasha notice it herself.\ +\ +"Really?" he asked.\ +\ +"They told her that all Moscow has been burned down, and that..."\ +\ +Natasha stopped. It was impossible to talk. It was plain that he was\ +making an effort to listen, but could not do so.\ +\ +"Yes, they say it's burned," he said. "It's a great pity," and he gazed\ +straight before him, absently stroking his mustache with his fingers.\ +\ +"And so you have met Count Nicholas, Mary?" Prince Andrew suddenly said,\ +evidently wishing to speak pleasantly to them. "He wrote here that he\ +took a great liking to you," he went on simply and calmly, evidently\ +unable to understand all the complex significance his words had for\ +living people. "If you liked him too, it would be a good thing for you\ +to get married," he added rather more quickly, as if pleased at having\ +found words he had long been seeking.\ +\ +Princess Mary heard his words but they had no meaning for her, except as\ +a proof of how far away he now was from everything living.\ +\ +"Why talk of me?" she said quietly and glanced at Natasha.\ +\ +Natasha, who felt her glance, did not look at her. All three were again\ +silent.\ +\ +"Andrew, would you like..." Princess Mary suddenly said in a trembling\ +voice, "would you like to see little Nicholas? He is always talking\ +about you!"\ +\ +Prince Andrew smiled just perceptibly and for the first time, but\ +Princess Mary, who knew his face so well, saw with horror that he did\ +not smile with pleasure or affection for his son, but with quiet, gentle\ +irony because he thought she was trying what she believed to be the last\ +means of arousing him.\ +\ +"Yes, I shall be very glad to see him. Is he quite well?"\ +\ +When little Nicholas was brought into Prince Andrew's room he looked at\ +his father with frightened eyes, but did not cry, because no one else\ +was crying. Prince Andrew kissed him and evidently did not know what to\ +say to him.\ +\ +When Nicholas had been led away, Princess Mary again went up to her\ +brother, kissed him, and unable to restrain her tears any longer began\ +to cry.\ +\ +He looked at her attentively.\ +\ +"Is it about Nicholas?" he asked.\ +\ +Princess Mary nodded her head, weeping.\ +\ +"Mary, you know the Gosp..." but he broke off.\ +\ +"What did you say?"\ +\ +"Nothing. You mustn't cry here," he said, looking at her with the same\ +cold expression.\ +\ +When Princess Mary began to cry, he understood that she was crying at\ +the thought that little Nicholas would be left without a father. With a\ +great effort he tried to return to life and to see things from their\ +point of view.\ +\ +"Yes, to them it must seem sad!" he thought. "But how simple it is.\ +\ +"The fowls of the air sow not, neither do they reap, yet your Father\ +feedeth them," he said to himself and wished to say to Princess Mary;\ +"but no, they will take it their own way, they won't understand! They\ +can't understand that all those feelings they prize so--all our\ +feelings, all those ideas that seem so important to us, are unnecessary.\ +We cannot understand one another," and he remained silent.\ +\ +Prince Andrew's little son was seven. He could scarcely read, and knew\ +nothing. After that day he lived through many things, gaining knowledge,\ +observation, and experience, but had he possessed all the faculties he\ +afterwards acquired, he could not have had a better or more profound\ +understanding of the meaning of the scene he had witnessed between his\ +father, Mary, and Natasha, than he had then. He understood it\ +completely, and, leaving the room without crying, went silently up to\ +Natasha who had come out with him and looked shyly at her with his\ +beautiful, thoughtful eyes, then his uplifted, rosy upper lip trembled\ +and leaning his head against her he began to cry.\ +\ +After that he avoided Dessalles and the countess who caressed him and\ +either sat alone or came timidly to Princess Mary, or to Natasha of whom\ +he seemed even fonder than of his aunt, and clung to them quietly and\ +shyly.\ +\ +When Princess Mary had left Prince Andrew she fully understood what\ +Natasha's face had told her. She did not speak any more to Natasha of\ +hopes of saving his life. She took turns with her beside his sofa, and\ +did not cry any more, but prayed continually, turning in soul to that\ +Eternal and Unfathomable, whose presence above the dying man was now so\ +evident.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XVI\ +\ +Not only did Prince Andrew know he would die, but he felt that he was\ +dying and was already half dead. He was conscious of an aloofness from\ +everything earthly and a strange and joyous lightness of existence.\ +Without haste or agitation he awaited what was coming. That inexorable,\ +eternal, distant, and unknown the presence of which he had felt\ +continually all his life--was now near to him and, by the strange\ +lightness he experienced, almost comprehensible and palpable...\ +\ +\ +Formerly he had feared the end. He had twice experienced that terribly\ +tormenting fear of death--the end--but now he no longer understood that\ +fear.\ +\ +He had felt it for the first time when the shell spun like a top before\ +him, and he looked at the fallow field, the bushes, and the sky, and\ +knew that he was face to face with death. When he came to himself after\ +being wounded and the flower of eternal, unfettered love had instantly\ +unfolded itself in his soul as if freed from the bondage of life that\ +had restrained it, he no longer feared death and ceased to think about\ +it.\ +\ +During the hours of solitude, suffering, and partial delirium he spent\ +after he was wounded, the more deeply he penetrated into the new\ +principle of eternal love revealed to him, the more he unconsciously\ +detached himself from earthly life. To love everything and everybody and\ +always to sacrifice oneself for love meant not to love anyone, not to\ +live this earthly life. And the more imbued he became with that\ +principle of love, the more he renounced life and the more completely he\ +destroyed that dreadful barrier which--in the absence of such love--\ +stands between life and death. When during those first days he\ +remembered that he would have to die, he said to himself: "Well, what of\ +it? So much the better!"\ +\ +But after the night in Mytishchi when, half delirious, he had seen her\ +for whom he longed appear before him and, having pressed her hand to his\ +lips, had shed gentle, happy tears, love for a particular woman again\ +crept unobserved into his heart and once more bound him to life. And\ +joyful and agitating thoughts began to occupy his mind. Recalling the\ +moment at the ambulance station when he had seen Kuragin, he could not\ +now regain the feeling he then had, but was tormented by the question\ +whether Kuragin was alive. And he dared not inquire.\ +\ +His illness pursued its normal physical course, but what Natasha\ +referred to when she said: "This suddenly happened," had occurred two\ +days before Princess Mary arrived. It was the last spiritual struggle\ +between life and death, in which death gained the victory. It was the\ +unexpected realization of the fact that he still valued life as\ +presented to him in the form of his love for Natasha, and a last, though\ +ultimately vanquished, attack of terror before the unknown.\ +\ +It was evening. As usual after dinner he was slightly feverish, and his\ +thoughts were preternaturally clear. Sonya was sitting by the table. He\ +began to doze. Suddenly a feeling of happiness seized him.\ +\ +"Ah, she has come!" thought he.\ +\ +And so it was: in Sonya's place sat Natasha who had just come in\ +noiselessly.\ +\ +Since she had begun looking after him, he had always experienced this\ +physical consciousness of her nearness. She was sitting in an armchair\ +placed sideways, screening the light of the candle from him, and was\ +knitting a stocking. She had learned to knit stockings since Prince\ +Andrew had casually mentioned that no one nursed the sick so well as old\ +nurses who knit stockings, and that there is something soothing in the\ +knitting of stockings. The needles clicked lightly in her slender,\ +rapidly moving hands, and he could clearly see the thoughtful profile of\ +her drooping face. She moved, and the ball rolled off her knees. She\ +started, glanced round at him, and screening the candle with her hand\ +stooped carefully with a supple and exact movement, picked up the ball,\ +and regained her former position.\ +\ +He looked at her without moving and saw that she wanted to draw a deep\ +breath after stooping, but refrained from doing so and breathed\ +cautiously.\ +\ +At the Troitsa monastery they had spoken of the past, and he had told\ +her that if he lived he would always thank God for his wound which had\ +brought them together again, but after that they never spoke of the\ +future.\ +\ +"Can it or can it not be?" he now thought as he looked at her and\ +listened to the light click of the steel needles. "Can fate have brought\ +me to her so strangely only for me to die?... Is it possible that the\ +truth of life has been revealed to me only to show me that I have spent\ +my life in falsity? I love her more than anything in the world! But what\ +am I to do if I love her?" he thought, and he involuntarily groaned,\ +from a habit acquired during his sufferings.\ +\ +On hearing that sound Natasha put down the stocking, leaned nearer to\ +him, and suddenly, noticing his shining eyes, stepped lightly up to him\ +and bent over him.\ +\ +"You are not asleep?"\ +\ +"No, I have been looking at you a long time. I felt you come in. No one\ +else gives me that sense of soft tranquillity that you do... that light.\ +I want to weep for joy."\ +\ +Natasha drew closer to him. Her face shone with rapturous joy.\ +\ +"Natasha, I love you too much! More than anything in the world."\ +\ +"And I!"--She turned away for an instant. "Why too much?" she asked.\ +\ +"Why too much?... Well, what do you, what do you feel in your soul, your\ +whole soul--shall I live? What do you think?"\ +\ +"I am sure of it, sure!" Natasha almost shouted, taking hold of both his\ +hands with a passionate movement.\ +\ +He remained silent awhile.\ +\ +"How good it would be!" and taking her hand he kissed it.\ +\ +Natasha felt happy and agitated, but at once remembered that this would\ +not do and that he had to be quiet.\ +\ +"But you have not slept," she said, repressing her joy. "Try to sleep...\ +please!"\ +\ +He pressed her hand and released it, and she went back to the candle and\ +sat down again in her former position. Twice she turned and looked at\ +him, and her eyes met his beaming at her. She set herself a task on her\ +stocking and resolved not to turn round till it was finished.\ +\ +Soon he really shut his eyes and fell asleep. He did not sleep long and\ +suddenly awoke with a start and in a cold perspiration.\ +\ +As he fell asleep he had still been thinking of the subject that now\ +always occupied his mind--about life and death, and chiefly about death.\ +He felt himself nearer to it.\ +\ +"Love? What is love?" he thought.\ +\ +"Love hinders death. Love is life. All, everything that I understand, I\ +understand only because I love. Everything is, everything exists, only\ +because I love. Everything is united by it alone. Love is God, and to\ +die means that I, a particle of love, shall return to the general and\ +eternal source." These thoughts seemed to him comforting. But they were\ +only thoughts. Something was lacking in them, they were not clear, they\ +were too one-sidedly personal and brain-spun. And there was the former\ +agitation and obscurity. He fell asleep.\ +\ +He dreamed that he was lying in the room he really was in, but that he\ +was quite well and unwounded. Many various, indifferent, and\ +insignificant people appeared before him. He talked to them and\ +discussed something trivial. They were preparing to go away somewhere.\ +Prince Andrew dimly realized that all this was trivial and that he had\ +more important cares, but he continued to speak, surprising them by\ +empty witticisms. Gradually, unnoticed, all these persons began to\ +disappear and a single question, that of the closed door, superseded all\ +else. He rose and went to the door to bolt and lock it. Everything\ +depended on whether he was, or was not, in time to lock it. He went, and\ +tried to hurry, but his legs refused to move and he knew he would not be\ +in time to lock the door though he painfully strained all his powers. He\ +was seized by an agonizing fear. And that fear was the fear of death. It\ +stood behind the door. But just when he was clumsily creeping toward the\ +door, that dreadful something on the other side was already pressing\ +against it and forcing its way in. Something not human--death--was\ +breaking in through that door, and had to be kept out. He seized the\ +door, making a final effort to hold it back--to lock it was no longer\ +possible--but his efforts were weak and clumsy and the door, pushed from\ +behind by that terror, opened and closed again.\ +\ +Once again it pushed from outside. His last superhuman efforts were vain\ +and both halves of the door noiselessly opened. It entered, and it was\ +death, and Prince Andrew died.\ +\ +But at the instant he died, Prince Andrew remembered that he was asleep,\ +and at the very instant he died, having made an effort, he awoke.\ +\ +"Yes, it was death! I died--and woke up. Yes, death is an awakening!"\ +And all at once it grew light in his soul and the veil that had till\ +then concealed the unknown was lifted from his spiritual vision. He felt\ +as if powers till then confined within him had been liberated, and that\ +strange lightness did not again leave him.\ +\ +When, waking in a cold perspiration, he moved on the divan, Natasha went\ +up and asked him what was the matter. He did not answer and looked at\ +her strangely, not understanding.\ +\ +That was what had happened to him two days before Princess Mary's\ +arrival. From that day, as the doctor expressed it, the wasting fever\ +assumed a malignant character, but what the doctor said did not interest\ +Natasha, she saw the terrible moral symptoms which to her were more\ +convincing.\ +\ +From that day an awakening from life came to Prince Andrew together with\ +his awakening from sleep. And compared to the duration of life it did\ +not seem to him slower than an awakening from sleep compared to the\ +duration of a dream.\ +\ +There was nothing terrible or violent in this comparatively slow\ +awakening.\ +\ +His last days and hours passed in an ordinary and simple way. Both\ +Princess Mary and Natasha, who did not leave him, felt this. They did\ +not weep or shudder and during these last days they themselves felt that\ +they were not attending on him (he was no longer there, he had left\ +them) but on what reminded them most closely of him--his body. Both felt\ +this so strongly that the outward and terrible side of death did not\ +affect them and they did not feel it necessary to foment their grief.\ +Neither in his presence nor out of it did they weep, nor did they ever\ +talk to one another about him. They felt that they could not express in\ +words what they understood.\ +\ +They both saw that he was sinking slowly and quietly, deeper and deeper,\ +away from them, and they both knew that this had to be so and that it\ +was right.\ +\ +He confessed, and received communion: everyone came to take leave of\ +him. When they brought his son to him, he pressed his lips to the boy's\ +and turned away, not because he felt it hard and sad (Princess Mary and\ +Natasha understood that) but simply because he thought it was all that\ +was required of him, but when they told him to bless the boy, he did\ +what was demanded and looked round as if asking whether there was\ +anything else he should do.\ +\ +When the last convulsions of the body, which the spirit was leaving,\ +occurred, Princess Mary and Natasha were present.\ +\ +"Is it over?" said Princess Mary when his body had for a few minutes\ +lain motionless, growing cold before them. Natasha went up, looked at\ +the dead eyes, and hastened to close them. She closed them but did not\ +kiss them, but clung to that which reminded her most nearly of him--his\ +body.\ +\ +"Where has he gone? Where is he now?..."\ +\ +When the body, washed and dressed, lay in the coffin on a table,\ +everyone came to take leave of him and they all wept.\ +\ +Little Nicholas cried because his heart was rent by painful perplexity.\ +The countess and Sonya cried from pity for Natasha and because he was no\ +more. The old count cried because he felt that before long, he, too,\ +must take the same terrible step.\ +\ +Natasha and Princess Mary also wept now, but not because of their own\ +personal grief; they wept with a reverent and softening emotion which\ +had taken possession of their souls at the consciousness of the simple\ +and solemn mystery of death that had been accomplished in their\ +presence.\ +\ +BOOK THIRTEEN: 1812\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER I\ +\ +Man's mind cannot grasp the causes of events in their completeness, but\ +the desire to find those causes is implanted in man's soul. And without\ +considering the multiplicity and complexity of the conditions any one of\ +which taken separately may seem to be the cause, he snatches at the\ +first approximation to a cause that seems to him intelligible and says:\ +"This is the cause!" In historical events (where the actions of men are\ +the subject of observation) the first and most primitive approximation\ +to present itself was the will of the gods and, after that, the will of\ +those who stood in the most prominent position--the heroes of history.\ +But we need only penetrate to the essence of any historic event--which\ +lies in the activity of the general mass of men who take part in it--to\ +be convinced that the will of the historic hero does not control the\ +actions of the mass but is itself continually controlled. It may seem to\ +be a matter of indifference whether we understand the meaning of\ +historical events this way or that; yet there is the same difference\ +between a man who says that the people of the West moved on the East\ +because Napoleon wished it and a man who says that this happened because\ +it had to happen, as there is between those who declared that the earth\ +was stationary and that the planets moved round it and those who\ +admitted that they did not know what upheld the earth, but knew there\ +were laws directing its movement and that of the other planets. There\ +is, and can be, no cause of an historical event except the one cause of\ +all causes. But there are laws directing events, and some of these laws\ +are known to us while we are conscious of others we cannot comprehend.\ +The discovery of these laws is only possible when we have quite\ +abandoned the attempt to find the cause in the will of some one man,\ +just as the discovery of the laws of the motion of the planets was\ +possible only when men abandoned the conception of the fixity of the\ +earth.\ +\ +The historians consider that, next to the battle of Borodino and the\ +occupation of Moscow by the enemy and its destruction by fire, the most\ +important episode of the war of 1812 was the movement of the Russian\ +army from the Ryazana to the Kaluga road and to the Tarutino camp--the\ +so-called flank march across the Krasnaya Pakhra River. They ascribe the\ +glory of that achievement of genius to different men and dispute as to\ +whom the honor is due. Even foreign historians, including the French,\ +acknowledge the genius of the Russian commanders when they speak of that\ +flank march. But it is hard to understand why military writers, and\ +following them others, consider this flank march to be the profound\ +conception of some one man who saved Russia and destroyed Napoleon. In\ +the first place it is hard to understand where the profundity and genius\ +of this movement lay, for not much mental effort was needed to see that\ +the best position for an army when it is not being attacked is where\ +there are most provisions; and even a dull boy of thirteen could have\ +guessed that the best position for an army after its retreat from Moscow\ +in 1812 was on the Kaluga road. So it is impossible to understand by\ +what reasoning the historians reach the conclusion that this maneuver\ +was a profound one. And it is even more difficult to understand just why\ +they think that this maneuver was calculated to save Russia and destroy\ +the French; for this flank march, had it been preceded, accompanied, or\ +followed by other circumstances, might have proved ruinous to the\ +Russians and salutary for the French. If the position of the Russian\ +army really began to improve from the time of that march, it does not at\ +all follow that the march was the cause of it.\ +\ +That flank march might not only have failed to give any advantage to the\ +Russian army, but might in other circumstances have led to its\ +destruction. What would have happened had Moscow not burned down? If\ +Murat had not lost sight of the Russians? If Napoleon had not remained\ +inactive? If the Russian army at Krasnaya Pakhra had given battle as\ +Bennigsen and Barclay advised? What would have happened had the French\ +attacked the Russians while they were marching beyond the Pakhra? What\ +would have happened if on approaching Tarutino, Napoleon had attacked\ +the Russians with but a tenth of the energy he had shown when he\ +attacked them at Smolensk? What would have happened had the French moved\ +on Petersburg?... In any of these eventualities the flank march that\ +brought salvation might have proved disastrous.\ +\ +The third and most incomprehensible thing is that people studying\ +history deliberately avoid seeing that this flank march cannot be\ +attributed to any one man, that no one ever foresaw it, and that in\ +reality, like the retreat from Fili, it did not suggest itself to anyone\ +in its entirety, but resulted--moment by moment, step by step, event by\ +event--from an endless number of most diverse circumstances and was only\ +seen in its entirety when it had been accomplished and belonged to the\ +past.\ +\ +At the council at Fili the prevailing thought in the minds of the\ +Russian commanders was the one naturally suggesting itself, namely, a\ +direct retreat by the Nizhni road. In proof of this there is the fact\ +that the majority of the council voted for such a retreat, and above all\ +there is the well-known conversation after the council, between the\ +commander in chief and Lanskoy, who was in charge of the commissariat\ +department. Lanskoy informed the commander-in-chief that the army\ +supplies were for the most part stored along the Oka in the Tula and\ +Ryazan provinces, and that if they retreated on Nizhni the army would be\ +separated from its supplies by the broad river Oka, which cannot be\ +crossed early in winter. This was the first indication of the necessity\ +of deviating from what had previously seemed the most natural course--a\ +direct retreat on Nizhni-Novgorod. The army turned more to the south,\ +along the Ryazan road and nearer to its supplies. Subsequently the\ +inactivity of the French (who even lost sight of the Russian army),\ +concern for the safety of the arsenal at Tula, and especially the\ +advantages of drawing nearer to its supplies caused the army to turn\ +still further south to the Tula road. Having crossed over, by a forced\ +march, to the Tula road beyond the Pakhra, the Russian commanders\ +intended to remain at Podolsk and had no thought of the Tarutino\ +position; but innumerable circumstances and the reappearance of French\ +troops who had for a time lost touch with the Russians, and projects of\ +giving battle, and above all the abundance of provisions in Kaluga\ +province, obliged our army to turn still more to the south and to cross\ +from the Tula to the Kaluga road and go to Tarutino, which was between\ +the roads along which those supplies lay. Just as it is impossible to\ +say when it was decided to abandon Moscow, so it is impossible to say\ +precisely when, or by whom, it was decided to move to Tarutino. Only\ +when the army had got there, as the result of innumerable and varying\ +forces, did people begin to assure themselves that they had desired this\ +movement and long ago foreseen its result.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER II\ +\ +The famous flank movement merely consisted in this: after the advance of\ +the French had ceased, the Russian army, which had been continually\ +retreating straight back from the invaders, deviated from that direct\ +course and, not finding itself pursued, was naturally drawn toward the\ +district where supplies were abundant.\ +\ +If instead of imagining to ourselves commanders of genius leading the\ +Russian army, we picture that army without any leaders, it could not\ +have done anything but make a return movement toward Moscow, describing\ +an arc in the direction where most provisions were to be found and where\ +the country was richest.\ +\ +That movement from the Nizhni to the Ryazan, Tula, and Kaluga roads was\ +so natural that even the Russian marauders moved in that direction, and\ +demands were sent from Petersburg for Kutuzov to take his army that way.\ +At Tarutino Kutuzov received what was almost a reprimand from the\ +Emperor for having moved his army along the Ryazan road, and the\ +Emperor's letter indicated to him the very position he had already\ +occupied near Kaluga.\ +\ +Having rolled like a ball in the direction of the impetus given by the\ +whole campaign and by the battle of Borodino, the Russian army--when the\ +strength of that impetus was exhausted and no fresh push was received--\ +assumed the position natural to it.\ +\ +Kutuzov's merit lay, not in any strategic maneuver of genius, as it is\ +called, but in the fact that he alone understood the significance of\ +what had happened. He alone then understood the meaning of the French\ +army's inactivity, he alone continued to assert that the battle of\ +Borodino had been a victory, he alone--who as commander-in-chief might\ +have been expected to be eager to attack--employed his whole strength to\ +restrain the Russian army from useless engagements.\ +\ +The beast wounded at Borodino was lying where the fleeing hunter had\ +left him; but whether he was still alive, whether he was strong and\ +merely lying low, the hunter did not know. Suddenly the beast was heard\ +to moan.\ +\ +The moan of that wounded beast (the French army) which betrayed its\ +calamitous condition was the sending of Lauriston to Kutuzov's camp with\ +overtures for peace.\ +\ +Napoleon, with his usual assurance that whatever entered his head was\ +right, wrote to Kutuzov the first words that occurred to him, though\ +they were meaningless.\ +\ +MONSIEUR LE PRINCE KOUTOUZOV: I am sending one of my adjutants-general\ +to discuss several interesting questions with you. I beg your Highness\ +to credit what he says to you, especially when he expresses the\ +sentiment of esteem and special regard I have long entertained for your\ +person. This letter having no other object, I pray God, monsieur le\ +Prince Koutouzov, to keep you in His holy and gracious protection!\ +\ +NAPOLEON MOSCOW, OCTOBER 30, 1812\ +\ +Kutuzov replied: "I should be cursed by posterity were I looked on as\ +the initiator of a settlement of any sort. Such is the present spirit of\ +my nation." But he continued to exert all his powers to restrain his\ +troops from attacking.\ +\ +During the month that the French troops were pillaging in Moscow and the\ +Russian troops were quietly encamped at Tarutino, a change had taken\ +place in the relative strength of the two armies--both in spirit and in\ +number--as a result of which the superiority had passed to the Russian\ +side. Though the condition and numbers of the French army were unknown\ +to the Russians, as soon as that change occurred the need of attacking\ +at once showed itself by countless signs. These signs were: Lauriston's\ +mission; the abundance of provisions at Tarutino; the reports coming in\ +from all sides of the inactivity and disorder of the French; the flow of\ +recruits to our regiments; the fine weather; the long rest the Russian\ +soldiers had enjoyed, and the impatience to do what they had been\ +assembled for, which usually shows itself in an army that has been\ +resting; curiosity as to what the French army, so long lost sight of,\ +was doing; the boldness with which our outposts now scouted close up to\ +the French stationed at Tarutino; the news of easy successes gained by\ +peasants and guerrilla troops over the French, the envy aroused by this;\ +the desire for revenge that lay in the heart of every Russian as long as\ +the French were in Moscow, and (above all) a dim consciousness in every\ +soldier's mind that the relative strength of the armies had changed and\ +that the advantage was now on our side. There was a substantial change\ +in the relative strength, and an advance had become inevitable. And at\ +once, as a clock begins to strike and chime as soon as the minute hand\ +has completed a full circle, this change was shown by an increased\ +activity, whirring, and chiming in the higher spheres.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER III\ +\ +The Russian army was commanded by Kutuzov and his staff, and also by the\ +Emperor from Petersburg. Before the news of the abandonment of Moscow\ +had been received in Petersburg, a detailed plan of the whole campaign\ +had been drawn up and sent to Kutuzov for his guidance. Though this plan\ +had been drawn up on the supposition that Moscow was still in our hands,\ +it was approved by the staff and accepted as a basis for action. Kutuzov\ +only replied that movements arranged from a distance were always\ +difficult to execute. So fresh instructions were sent for the solution\ +of difficulties that might be encountered, as well as fresh people who\ +were to watch Kutuzov's actions and report upon them.\ +\ +Besides this, the whole staff of the Russian army was now reorganized.\ +The posts left vacant by Bagration, who had been killed, and by Barclay,\ +who had gone away in dudgeon, had to be filled. Very serious\ +consideration was given to the question whether it would be better to\ +put A in B's place and B in D's, or on the contrary to put D in A's\ +place, and so on--as if anything more than A's or B's satisfaction\ +depended on this.\ +\ +As a result of the hostility between Kutuzov and Bennigsen, his Chief of\ +Staff, the presence of confidential representatives of the Emperor, and\ +these transfers, a more than usually complicated play of parties was\ +going on among the staff of the army. A was undermining B, D was\ +undermining C, and so on in all possible combinations and permutations.\ +In all these plottings the subject of intrigue was generally the conduct\ +of the war, which all these men believed they were directing; but this\ +affair of the war went on independently of them, as it had to go: that\ +is, never in the way people devised, but flowing always from the\ +essential attitude of the masses. Only in the highest spheres did all\ +these schemes, crossings, and interminglings appear to be a true\ +reflection of what had to happen.\ +\ +Prince Michael Ilarionovich! (wrote the Emperor on the second of October\ +in a letter that reached Kutuzov after the battle at Tarutino) Since\ +September 2 Moscow has been in the hands of the enemy. Your last reports\ +were written on the twentieth, and during all this time not only has no\ +action been taken against the enemy or for the relief of the ancient\ +capital, but according to your last report you have even retreated\ +farther. Serpukhov is already occupied by an enemy detachment and Tula\ +with its famous arsenal so indispensable to the army, is in danger. From\ +General Wintzingerode's reports, I see that an enemy corps of ten\ +thousand men is moving on the Petersburg road. Another corps of several\ +thousand men is moving on Dmitrov. A third has advanced along the\ +Vladimir road, and a fourth, rather considerable detachment is stationed\ +between Ruza and Mozhaysk. Napoleon himself was in Moscow as late as the\ +twenty-fifth. In view of all this information, when the enemy has\ +scattered his forces in large detachments, and with Napoleon and his\ +Guards in Moscow, is it possible that the enemy's forces confronting you\ +are so considerable as not to allow of your taking the offensive? On the\ +contrary, he is probably pursuing you with detachments, or at most with\ +an army corps much weaker than the army entrusted to you. It would seem\ +that, availing yourself of these circumstances, you might advantageously\ +attack a weaker one and annihilate him, or at least oblige him to\ +retreat, retaining in our hands an important part of the provinces now\ +occupied by the enemy, and thereby averting danger from Tula and other\ +towns in the interior. You will be responsible if the enemy is able to\ +direct a force of any size against Petersburg to threaten this capital\ +in which it has not been possible to retain many troops; for with the\ +army entrusted to you, and acting with resolution and energy, you have\ +ample means to avert this fresh calamity. Remember that you have still\ +to answer to our offended country for the loss of Moscow. You have\ +experienced my readiness to reward you. That readiness will not weaken\ +in me, but I and Russia have a right to expect from you all the zeal,\ +firmness, and success which your intellect, military talent, and the\ +courage of the troops you command justify us in expecting.\ +\ +But by the time this letter, which proved that the real relation of the\ +forces had already made itself felt in Petersburg, was dispatched,\ +Kutuzov had found himself unable any longer to restrain the army he\ +commanded from attacking and a battle had taken place.\ +\ +On the second of October a Cossack, Shapovalov, who was out scouting,\ +killed one hare and wounded another. Following the wounded hare he made\ +his way far into the forest and came upon the left flank of Murat's\ +army, encamped there without any precautions. The Cossack laughingly\ +told his comrades how he had almost fallen into the hands of the French.\ +A cornet, hearing the story, informed his commander.\ +\ +The Cossack was sent for and questioned. The Cossack officers wished to\ +take advantage of this chance to capture some horses, but one of the\ +superior officers, who was acquainted with the higher authorities,\ +reported the incident to a general on the staff. The state of things on\ +the staff had of late been exceedingly strained. Ermolov had been to see\ +Bennigsen a few days previously and had entreated him to use his\ +influence with the commander-in-chief to induce him to take the\ +offensive.\ +\ +"If I did not know you I should think you did not want what you are\ +asking for. I need only advise anything and his Highness is sure to do\ +the opposite," replied Bennigsen.\ +\ +The Cossack's report, confirmed by horse patrols who were sent out, was\ +the final proof that events had matured. The tightly coiled spring was\ +released, the clock began to whirr and the chimes to play. Despite all\ +his supposed power, his intellect, his experience, and his knowledge of\ +men, Kutuzov--having taken into consideration the Cossack's report, a\ +note from Bennigsen who sent personal reports to the Emperor, the wishes\ +he supposed the Emperor to hold, and the fact that all the generals\ +expressed the same wish--could no longer check the inevitable movement,\ +and gave the order to do what he regarded as useless and harmful--gave\ +his approval, that is, to the accomplished fact.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER IV\ +\ +Bennigsen's note and the Cossack's information that the left flank of\ +the French was unguarded were merely final indications that it was\ +necessary to order an attack, and it was fixed for the fifth of October.\ +\ +On the morning of the fourth of October Kutuzov signed the dispositions.\ +Toll read them to Ermolov, asking him to attend to the further\ +arrangements.\ +\ +"All right--all right. I haven't time just now," replied Ermolov, and\ +left the hut.\ +\ +The dispositions drawn up by Toll were very good. As in the Austerlitz\ +dispositions, it was written--though not in German this time:\ +\ +"The First Column will march here and here," "the Second Column will\ +march there and there," and so on; and on paper, all these columns\ +arrived at their places at the appointed time and destroyed the enemy.\ +Everything had been admirably thought out as is usual in dispositions,\ +and as is always the case, not a single column reached its place at the\ +appointed time.\ +\ +When the necessary number of copies of the dispositions had been\ +prepared, an officer was summoned and sent to deliver them to Ermolov to\ +deal with. A young officer of the Horse Guards, Kutuzov's orderly,\ +pleased at the importance of the mission entrusted to him, went to\ +Ermolov's quarters.\ +\ +"Gone away," said Ermolov's orderly.\ +\ +The officer of the Horse Guards went to a general with whom Ermolov was\ +often to be found.\ +\ +"No, and the general's out too."\ +\ +The officer, mounting his horse, rode off to someone else.\ +\ +"No, he's gone out."\ +\ +"If only they don't make me responsible for this delay! What a nuisance\ +it is!" thought the officer, and he rode round the whole camp. One man\ +said he had seen Ermolov ride past with some other generals, others said\ +he must have returned home. The officer searched till six o'clock in the\ +evening without even stopping to eat. Ermolov was nowhere to be found\ +and no one knew where he was. The officer snatched a little food at a\ +comrade's, and rode again to the vanguard to find Miloradovich.\ +Miloradovich too was away, but here he was told that he had gone to a\ +ball at General Kikin's and that Ermolov was probably there too.\ +\ +"But where is it?"\ +\ +"Why, there, over at Echkino," said a Cossack officer, pointing to a\ +country house in the far distance.\ +\ +"What, outside our line?"\ +\ +"They've put two regiments as outposts, and they're having such a spree\ +there, it's awful! Two bands and three sets of singers!"\ +\ +The officer rode out beyond our lines to Echkino. While still at a\ +distance he heard as he rode the merry sounds of a soldier's dance song\ +proceeding from the house.\ +\ +"In the meadows... in the meadows!" he heard, accompanied by whistling\ +and the sound of a torban, drowned every now and then by shouts. These\ +sounds made his spirits rise, but at the same time he was afraid that he\ +would be blamed for not having executed sooner the important order\ +entrusted to him. It was already past eight o'clock. He dismounted and\ +went up into the porch of a large country house which had remained\ +intact between the Russian and French forces. In the refreshment room\ +and the hall, footmen were bustling about with wine and viands. Groups\ +of singers stood outside the windows. The officer was admitted and\ +immediately saw all the chief generals of the army together, and among\ +them Ermolov's big imposing figure. They all had their coats unbuttoned\ +and were standing in a semicircle with flushed and animated faces,\ +laughing loudly. In the middle of the room a short handsome general with\ +a red face was dancing the trepak with much spirit and agility.\ +\ +"Ha, ha, ha! Bravo, Nicholas Ivanych! Ha, ha, ha!"\ +\ +The officer felt that by arriving with important orders at such a moment\ +he was doubly to blame, and he would have preferred to wait; but one of\ +the generals espied him and, hearing what he had come about, informed\ +Ermolov.\ +\ +Ermolov came forward with a frown on his face and, hearing what the\ +officer had to say, took the papers from him without a word.\ +\ +"You think he went off just by chance?" said a comrade, who was on the\ +staff that evening, to the officer of the Horse Guards, referring to\ +Ermolov. "It was a trick. It was done on purpose to get Konovnitsyn into\ +trouble. You'll see what a mess there'll be tomorrow."\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER V\ +\ +Next day the decrepit Kutuzov, having given orders to be called early,\ +said his prayers, dressed, and, with an unpleasant consciousness of\ +having to direct a battle he did not approve of, got into his caleche\ +and drove from Letashovka (a village three and a half miles from\ +Tarutino) to the place where the attacking columns were to meet. He sat\ +in the caleche, dozing and waking up by turns, and listening for any\ +sound of firing on the right as an indication that the action had begun.\ +But all was still quiet. A damp dull autumn morning was just dawning. On\ +approaching Tarutino Kutuzov noticed cavalrymen leading their horses to\ +water across the road along which he was driving. Kutuzov looked at them\ +searchingly, stopped his carriage, and inquired what regiment they\ +belonged to. They belonged to a column that should have been far in\ +front and in ambush long before then. "It may be a mistake," thought the\ +old commander-in-chief. But a little further on he saw infantry\ +regiments with their arms piled and the soldiers, only partly dressed,\ +eating their rye porridge and carrying fuel. He sent for an officer. The\ +officer reported that no order to advance had been received.\ +\ +"How! Not rec..." Kutuzov began, but checked himself immediately and\ +sent for a senior officer. Getting out of his caleche, he waited with\ +drooping head and breathing heavily, pacing silently up and down. When\ +Eykhen, the officer of the general staff whom he had summoned, appeared,\ +Kutuzov went purple in the face, not because that officer was to blame\ +for the mistake, but because he was an object of sufficient importance\ +for him to vent his wrath on. Trembling and panting the old man fell\ +into that state of fury in which he sometimes used to roll on the\ +ground, and he fell upon Eykhen, threatening him with his hands,\ +shouting and loading him with gross abuse. Another man, Captain Brozin,\ +who happened to turn up and who was not at all to blame, suffered the\ +same fate.\ +\ +"What sort of another blackguard are you? I'll have you shot!\ +Scoundrels!" yelled Kutuzov in a hoarse voice, waving his arms and\ +reeling.\ +\ +He was suffering physically. He, the commander-in-chief, a Serene\ +Highness who everybody said possessed powers such as no man had ever had\ +in Russia, to be placed in this position--made the laughingstock of the\ +whole army! "I needn't have been in such a hurry to pray about today, or\ +have kept awake thinking everything over all night," thought he to\ +himself. "When I was a chit of an officer no one would have dared to\ +mock me so... and now!" He was in a state of physical suffering as if\ +from corporal punishment, and could not avoid expressing it by cries of\ +anger and distress. But his strength soon began to fail him, and looking\ +about him, conscious of having said much that was amiss, he again got\ +into his caleche and drove back in silence.\ +\ +His wrath, once expended, did not return, and blinking feebly he\ +listened to excuses and self-justifications (Ermolov did not come to see\ +him till the next day) and to the insistence of Bennigsen, Konovnitsyn,\ +and Toll that the movement that had miscarried should be executed next\ +day. And once more Kutuzov had to consent.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER VI\ +\ +Next day the troops assembled in their appointed places in the evening\ +and advanced during the night. It was an autumn night with dark purple\ +clouds, but no rain. The ground was damp but not muddy, and the troops\ +advanced noiselessly, only occasionally a jingling of the artillery\ +could be faintly heard. The men were forbidden to talk out loud, to\ +smoke their pipes, or to strike a light, and they tried to prevent their\ +horses neighing. The secrecy of the undertaking heightened its charm and\ +they marched gaily. Some columns, supposing they had reached their\ +destination, halted, piled arms, and settled down on the cold ground,\ +but the majority marched all night and arrived at places where they\ +evidently should not have been.\ +\ +Only Count Orlov-Denisov with his Cossacks (the least important\ +detachment of all) got to his appointed place at the right time. This\ +detachment halted at the outskirts of a forest, on the path leading from\ +the village of Stromilova to Dmitrovsk.\ +\ +Toward dawn, Count Orlov-Denisov, who had dozed off, was awakened by a\ +deserter from the French army being brought to him. This was a Polish\ +sergeant of Poniatowski's corps, who explained in Polish that he had\ +come over because he had been slighted in the service: that he ought\ +long ago to have been made an officer, that he was braver than any of\ +them, and so he had left them and wished to pay them out. He said that\ +Murat was spending the night less than a mile from where they were, and\ +that if they would let him have a convoy of a hundred men he would\ +capture him alive. Count Orlov-Denisov consulted his fellow officers.\ +\ +The offer was too tempting to be refused. Everyone volunteered to go and\ +everybody advised making the attempt. After much disputing and arguing,\ +Major-General Grekov with two Cossack regiments decided to go with the\ +Polish sergeant.\ +\ +"Now, remember," said Count Orlov-Denisov to the sergeant at parting,\ +"if you have been lying I'll have you hanged like a dog; but if it's\ +true you shall have a hundred gold pieces!"\ +\ +Without replying, the sergeant, with a resolute air, mounted and rode\ +away with Grekov whose men had quickly assembled. They disappeared into\ +the forest, and Count Orlov-Denisov, having seen Grekov off, returned,\ +shivering from the freshness of the early dawn and excited by what he\ +had undertaken on his own responsibility, and began looking at the enemy\ +camp, now just visible in the deceptive light of dawn and the dying\ +campfires. Our columns ought to have begun to appear on an open\ +declivity to his right. He looked in that direction, but though the\ +columns would have been visible quite far off, they were not to be seen.\ +It seemed to the count that things were beginning to stir in the French\ +camp, and his keen-sighted adjutant confirmed this.\ +\ +"Oh, it is really too late," said Count Orlov, looking at the camp.\ +\ +As often happens when someone we have trusted is no longer before our\ +eyes, it suddenly seemed quite clear and obvious to him that the\ +sergeant was an impostor, that he had lied, and that the whole Russian\ +attack would be ruined by the absence of those two regiments, which he\ +would lead away heaven only knew where. How could one capture a\ +commander-in-chief from among such a mass of troops!\ +\ +"I am sure that rascal was lying," said the count.\ +\ +"They can still be called back," said one of his suite, who like Count\ +Orlov felt distrustful of the adventure when he looked at the enemy's\ +camp.\ +\ +"Eh? Really... what do you think? Should we let them go on or not?"\ +\ +"Will you have them fetched back?"\ +\ +"Fetch them back, fetch them back!" said Count Orlov with sudden\ +determination, looking at his watch. "It will be too late. It is quite\ +light."\ +\ +And the adjutant galloped through the forest after Grekov. When Grekov\ +returned, Count Orlov-Denisov, excited both by the abandoned attempt and\ +by vainly awaiting the infantry columns that still did not appear, as\ +well as by the proximity of the enemy, resolved to advance. All his men\ +felt the same excitement.\ +\ +"Mount!" he commanded in a whisper. The men took their places and\ +crossed themselves.... "Forward, with God's aid!"\ +\ +"Hurrah-ah-ah!" reverberated in the forest, and the Cossack companies,\ +trailing their lances and advancing one after another as if poured out\ +of a sack, dashed gaily across the brook toward the camp.\ +\ +One desperate, frightened yell from the first French soldier who saw the\ +Cossacks, and all who were in the camp, undressed and only just waking\ +up, ran off in all directions, abandoning cannons, muskets, and horses.\ +\ +Had the Cossacks pursued the French, without heeding what was behind and\ +around them, they would have captured Murat and everything there. That\ +was what the officers desired. But it was impossible to make the\ +Cossacks budge when once they had got booty and prisoners. None of them\ +listened to orders. Fifteen hundred prisoners and thirty-eight guns were\ +taken on the spot, besides standards and (what seemed most important to\ +the Cossacks) horses, saddles, horsecloths, and the like. All this had\ +to be dealt with, the prisoners and guns secured, the booty divided--not\ +without some shouting and even a little fighting among themselves--and\ +it was on this that the Cossacks all busied themselves.\ +\ +The French, not being farther pursued, began to recover themselves: they\ +formed into detachments and began firing. Orlov-Denisov, still waiting\ +for the other columns to arrive, advanced no further.\ +\ +Meantime, according to the dispositions which said that "the First\ +Column will march" and so on, the infantry of the belated columns,\ +commanded by Bennigsen and directed by Toll, had started in due order\ +and, as always happens, had got somewhere, but not to their appointed\ +places. As always happens the men, starting cheerfully, began to halt;\ +murmurs were heard, there was a sense of confusion, and finally a\ +backward movement. Adjutants and generals galloped about, shouted, grew\ +angry, quarreled, said they had come quite wrong and were late, gave\ +vent to a little abuse, and at last gave it all up and went forward,\ +simply to get somewhere. "We shall get somewhere or other!" And they did\ +indeed get somewhere, though not to their right places; a few eventually\ +even got to their right place, but too late to be of any use and only in\ +time to be fired at. Toll, who in this battle played the part of\ +Weyrother at Austerlitz, galloped assiduously from place to place,\ +finding everything upside down everywhere. Thus he stumbled on Bagovut's\ +corps in a wood when it was already broad daylight, though the corps\ +should long before have joined Orlov-Denisov. Excited and vexed by the\ +failure and supposing that someone must be responsible for it, Toll\ +galloped up to the commander of the corps and began upbraiding him\ +severely, saying that he ought to be shot. General Bagovut, a fighting\ +old soldier of placid temperament, being also upset by all the delay,\ +confusion, and cross-purposes, fell into a rage to everybody's surprise\ +and quite contrary to his usual character and said disagreeable things\ +to Toll.\ +\ +"I prefer not to take lessons from anyone, but I can die with my men as\ +well as anybody," he said, and advanced with a single division.\ +\ +Coming out onto a field under the enemy's fire, this brave general went\ +straight ahead, leading his men under fire, without considering in his\ +agitation whether going into action now, with a single division, would\ +be of any use or no. Danger, cannon balls, and bullets were just what he\ +needed in his angry mood. One of the first bullets killed him, and other\ +bullets killed many of his men. And his division remained under fire for\ +some time quite uselessly.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER VII\ +\ +Meanwhile another column was to have attacked the French from the front,\ +but Kutuzov accompanied that column. He well knew that nothing but\ +confusion would come of this battle undertaken against his will, and as\ +far as was in his power held the troops back. He did not advance.\ +\ +He rode silently on his small gray horse, indolently answering\ +suggestions that they should attack.\ +\ +"The word attack is always on your tongue, but you don't see that we are\ +unable to execute complicated maneuvers," said he to Miloradovich who\ +asked permission to advance.\ +\ +"We couldn't take Murat prisoner this morning or get to the place in\ +time, and nothing can be done now!" he replied to someone else.\ +\ +When Kutuzov was informed that at the French rear--where according to\ +the reports of the Cossacks there had previously been nobody--there were\ +now two battalions of Poles, he gave a sidelong glance at Ermolov who\ +was behind him and to whom he had not spoken since the previous day.\ +\ +"You see! They are asking to attack and making plans of all kinds, but\ +as soon as one gets to business nothing is ready, and the enemy,\ +forewarned, takes measures accordingly."\ +\ +Ermolov screwed up his eyes and smiled faintly on hearing these words.\ +He understood that for him the storm had blown over, and that Kutuzov\ +would content himself with that hint.\ +\ +"He's having a little fun at my expense," said Ermolov softly, nudging\ +with his knee Raevski who was at his side.\ +\ +Soon after this, Ermolov moved up to Kutuzov and respectfully remarked:\ +\ +"It is not too late yet, your Highness--the enemy has not gone away--if\ +you were to order an attack! If not, the Guards will not so much as see\ +a little smoke."\ +\ +Kutuzov did not reply, but when they reported to him that Murat's troops\ +were in retreat he ordered an advance, though at every hundred paces he\ +halted for three quarters of an hour.\ +\ +The whole battle consisted in what Orlov-Denisov's Cossacks had done:\ +the rest of the army merely lost some hundreds of men uselessly.\ +\ +In consequence of this battle Kutuzov received a diamond decoration, and\ +Bennigsen some diamonds and a hundred thousand rubles, others also\ +received pleasant recognitions corresponding to their various grades,\ +and following the battle fresh changes were made in the staff.\ +\ +"That's how everything is done with us, all topsy-turvy!" said the\ +Russian officers and generals after the Tarutino battle, letting it be\ +understood that some fool there is doing things all wrong but that we\ +ourselves should not have done so, just as people speak today. But\ +people who talk like that either do not know what they are talking about\ +or deliberately deceive themselves. No battle--Tarutino, Borodino, or\ +Austerlitz--takes place as those who planned it anticipated. That is an\ +essential condition.\ +\ +A countless number of free forces (for nowhere is man freer than during\ +a battle, where it is a question of life and death) influence the course\ +taken by the fight, and that course never can be known in advance and\ +never coincides with the direction of any one force.\ +\ +If many simultaneously and variously directed forces act on a given\ +body, the direction of its motion cannot coincide with any one of those\ +forces, but will always be a mean--what in mechanics is represented by\ +the diagonal of a parallelogram of forces.\ +\ +If in the descriptions given by historians, especially French ones, we\ +find their wars and battles carried out in accordance with previously\ +formed plans, the only conclusion to be drawn is that those descriptions\ +are false.\ +\ +The battle of Tarutino obviously did not attain the aim Toll had in\ +view--to lead the troops into action in the order prescribed by the\ +dispositions; nor that which Count Orlov-Denisov may have had in view--\ +to take Murat prisoner; nor the result of immediately destroying the\ +whole corps, which Bennigsen and others may have had in view; nor the\ +aim of the officer who wished to go into action to distinguish himself;\ +nor that of the Cossack who wanted more booty than he got, and so on.\ +But if the aim of the battle was what actually resulted and what all the\ +Russians of that day desired--to drive the French out of Russia and\ +destroy their army--it is quite clear that the battle of Tarutino, just\ +because of its incongruities, was exactly what was wanted at that stage\ +of the campaign. It would be difficult and even impossible to imagine\ +any result more opportune than the actual outcome of this battle. With a\ +minimum of effort and insignificant losses, despite the greatest\ +confusion, the most important results of the whole campaign were\ +attained: the transition from retreat to advance, an exposure of the\ +weakness of the French, and the administration of that shock which\ +Napoleon's army had only awaited to begin its flight.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER VIII\ +\ +Napoleon enters Moscow after the brilliant victory de la Moskowa; there\ +can be no doubt about the victory for the battlefield remains in the\ +hands of the French. The Russians retreat and abandon their ancient\ +capital. Moscow, abounding in provisions, arms, munitions, and\ +incalculable wealth, is in Napoleon's hands. The Russian army, only half\ +the strength of the French, does not make a single attempt to attack for\ +a whole month. Napoleon's position is most brilliant. He can either fall\ +on the Russian army with double its strength and destroy it; negotiate\ +an advantageous peace, or in case of a refusal make a menacing move on\ +Petersburg, or even, in the case of a reverse, return to Smolensk or\ +Vilna; or remain in Moscow; in short, no special genius would seem to be\ +required to retain the brilliant position the French held at that time.\ +For that, only very simple and easy steps were necessary: not to allow\ +the troops to loot, to prepare winter clothing--of which there was\ +sufficient in Moscow for the whole army--and methodically to collect the\ +provisions, of which (according to the French historians) there were\ +enough in Moscow to supply the whole army for six months. Yet Napoleon,\ +that greatest of all geniuses, who the historians declare had control of\ +the army, took none of these steps.\ +\ +He not merely did nothing of the kind, but on the contrary he used his\ +power to select the most foolish and ruinous of all the courses open to\ +him. Of all that Napoleon might have done: wintering in Moscow,\ +advancing on Petersburg or on Nizhni-Novgorod, or retiring by a more\ +northerly or more southerly route (say by the road Kutuzov afterwards\ +took), nothing more stupid or disastrous can be imagined than what he\ +actually did. He remained in Moscow till October, letting the troops\ +plunder the city; then, hesitating whether to leave a garrison behind\ +him, he quitted Moscow, approached Kutuzov without joining battle,\ +turned to the right and reached Malo-Yaroslavets, again without\ +attempting to break through and take the road Kutuzov took, but retiring\ +instead to Mozhaysk along the devastated Smolensk road. Nothing more\ +stupid than that could have been devised, or more disastrous for the\ +army, as the sequel showed. Had Napoleon's aim been to destroy his army,\ +the most skillful strategist could hardly have devised any series of\ +actions that would so completely have accomplished that purpose,\ +independently of anything the Russian army might do.\ +\ +Napoleon, the man of genius, did this! But to say that he destroyed his\ +army because he wished to, or because he was very stupid, would be as\ +unjust as to say that he had brought his troops to Moscow because he\ +wished to and because he was very clever and a genius.\ +\ +In both cases his personal activity, having no more force than the\ +personal activity of any soldier, merely coincided with the laws that\ +guided the event.\ +\ +The historians quite falsely represent Napoleon's faculties as having\ +weakened in Moscow, and do so only because the results did not justify\ +his actions. He employed all his ability and strength to do the best he\ +could for himself and his army, as he had done previously and as he did\ +subsequently in 1813. His activity at that time was no less astounding\ +than it was in Egypt, in Italy, in Austria, and in Prussia. We do not\ +know for certain in how far his genius was genuine in Egypt--where forty\ +centuries looked down upon his grandeur--for his great exploits there\ +are all told us by Frenchmen. We cannot accurately estimate his genius\ +in Austria or Prussia, for we have to draw our information from French\ +or German sources, and the incomprehensible surrender of whole corps\ +without fighting and of fortresses without a siege must incline Germans\ +to recognize his genius as the only explanation of the war carried on in\ +Germany. But we, thank God, have no need to recognize his genius in\ +order to hide our shame. We have paid for the right to look at the\ +matter plainly and simply, and we will not abandon that right.\ +\ +His activity in Moscow was as amazing and as full of genius as\ +elsewhere. Order after order and plan after plan were issued by him from\ +the time he entered Moscow till the time he left it. The absence of\ +citizens and of a deputation, and even the burning of Moscow, did not\ +disconcert him. He did not lose sight either of the welfare of his army\ +or of the doings of the enemy, or of the welfare of the people of\ +Russia, or of the direction of affairs in Paris, or of diplomatic\ +considerations concerning the terms of the anticipated peace.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER IX\ +\ +With regard to military matters, Napoleon immediately on his entry into\ +Moscow gave General Sabastiani strict orders to observe the movements of\ +the Russian army, sent army corps out along the different roads, and\ +charged Murat to find Kutuzov. Then he gave careful directions about the\ +fortification of the Kremlin, and drew up a brilliant plan for a future\ +campaign over the whole map of Russia.\ +\ +With regard to diplomatic questions, Napoleon summoned Captain Yakovlev,\ +who had been robbed and was in rags and did not know how to get out of\ +Moscow, minutely explained to him his whole policy and his magnanimity,\ +and having written a letter to the Emperor Alexander in which he\ +considered it his duty to inform his Friend and Brother that Rostopchin\ +had managed affairs badly in Moscow, he dispatched Yakovlev to\ +Petersburg.\ +\ +Having similarly explained his views and his magnanimity to Tutolmin, he\ +dispatched that old man also to Petersburg to negotiate.\ +\ +With regard to legal matters, immediately after the fires he gave orders\ +to find and execute the incendiaries. And the scoundrel Rostopchin was\ +punished by an order to burn down his houses.\ +\ +With regard to administrative matters, Moscow was granted a\ +constitution. A municipality was established and the following\ +announcement issued:\ +\ +INHABITANTS OF MOSCOW!\ +\ +Your misfortunes are cruel, but His Majesty the Emperor and King desires\ +to arrest their course. Terrible examples have taught you how he\ +punishes disobedience and crime. Strict measures have been taken to put\ +an end to disorder and to re-establish public security. A paternal\ +administration, chosen from among yourselves, will form your\ +municipality or city government. It will take care of you, of your\ +needs, and of your welfare. Its members will be distinguished by a red\ +ribbon worn across the shoulder, and the mayor of the city will wear a\ +white belt as well. But when not on duty they will only wear a red\ +ribbon round the left arm.\ +\ +The city police is established on its former footing, and better order\ +already prevails in consequence of its activity. The government has\ +appointed two commissaries general, or chiefs of police, and twenty\ +commissaries or captains of wards have been appointed to the different\ +wards of the city. You will recognize them by the white ribbon they will\ +wear on the left arm. Several churches of different denominations are\ +open, and divine service is performed in them unhindered. Your fellow\ +citizens are returning every day to their homes and orders have been\ +given that they should find in them the help and protection due to their\ +misfortunes. These are the measures the government has adopted to re-\ +establish order and relieve your condition. But to achieve this aim it\ +is necessary that you should add your efforts and should, if possible,\ +forget the misfortunes you have suffered, should entertain the hope of a\ +less cruel fate, should be certain that inevitable and ignominious death\ +awaits those who make any attempt on your persons or on what remains of\ +your property, and finally that you should not doubt that these will be\ +safeguarded, since such is the will of the greatest and most just of\ +monarchs. Soldiers and citizens, of whatever nation you may be, re-\ +establish public confidence, the source of the welfare of a state, live\ +like brothers, render mutual aid and protection one to another, unite to\ +defeat the intentions of the evil-minded, obey the military and civil\ +authorities, and your tears will soon cease to flow!\ +\ +With regard to supplies for the army, Napoleon decreed that all the\ +troops in turn should enter Moscow a la maraude * to obtain provisions\ +for themselves, so that the army might have its future provided for.\ +\ +\ +* As looters.\ +\ +With regard to religion, Napoleon ordered the priests to be brought back\ +and services to be again performed in the churches.\ +\ +With regard to commerce and to provisioning the army, the following was\ +placarded everywhere:\ +\ +PROCLAMATION!\ +\ +You, peaceful inhabitants of Moscow, artisans and workmen whom\ +misfortune has driven from the city, and you scattered tillers of the\ +soil, still kept out in the fields by groundless fear, listen!\ +Tranquillity is returning to this capital and order is being restored in\ +it. Your fellow countrymen are emerging boldly from their hiding places\ +on finding that they are respected. Any violence to them or to their\ +property is promptly punished. His Majesty the Emperor and King protects\ +them, and considers no one among you his enemy except those who disobey\ +his orders. He desires to end your misfortunes and restore you to your\ +homes and families. Respond, therefore, to his benevolent intentions and\ +come to us without fear. Inhabitants, return with confidence to your\ +abodes! You will soon find means of satisfying your needs. Craftsmen and\ +industrious artisans, return to your work, your houses, your shops,\ +where the protection of guards awaits you! You shall receive proper pay\ +for your work. And lastly you too, peasants, come from the forests where\ +you are hiding in terror, return to your huts without fear, in full\ +assurance that you will find protection! Markets are established in the\ +city where peasants can bring their surplus supplies and the products of\ +the soil. The government has taken the following steps to ensure freedom\ +of sale for them: (1) From today, peasants, husbandmen, and those living\ +in the neighborhood of Moscow may without any danger bring their\ +supplies of all kinds to two appointed markets, of which one is on the\ +Mokhovaya Street and the other at the Provision Market. (2) Such\ +supplies will be bought from them at such prices as seller and buyer may\ +agree on, and if a seller is unable to obtain a fair price he will be\ +free to take his goods back to his village and no one may hinder him\ +under any pretense. (3) Sunday and Wednesday of each week are appointed\ +as the chief market days and to that end a sufficient number of troops\ +will be stationed along the highroads on Tuesdays and Saturdays at such\ +distances from the town as to protect the carts. (4) Similar measures\ +will be taken that peasants with their carts and horses may meet with no\ +hindrance on their return journey. (5) Steps will immediately be taken\ +to re-establish ordinary trading.\ +\ +Inhabitants of the city and villages, and you, workingmen and artisans,\ +to whatever nation you belong, you are called on to carry out the\ +paternal intentions of His Majesty the Emperor and King and to co-\ +operate with him for the public welfare! Lay your respect and confidence\ +at his feet and do not delay to unite with us!\ +\ +With the object of raising the spirits of the troops and of the people,\ +reviews were constantly held and rewards distributed. The Emperor rode\ +through the streets to comfort the inhabitants, and, despite his\ +preoccupation with state affairs, himself visited the theaters that were\ +established by his order.\ +\ +In regard to philanthropy, the greatest virtue of crowned heads,\ +Napoleon also did all in his power. He caused the words Maison de ma\ +Mere to be inscribed on the charitable institutions, thereby combining\ +tender filial affection with the majestic benevolence of a monarch. He\ +visited the Foundling Hospital and, allowing the orphans saved by him to\ +kiss his white hands, graciously conversed with Tutolmin. Then, as\ +Thiers eloquently recounts, he ordered his soldiers to be paid in forged\ +Russian money which he had prepared: "Raising the use of these means by\ +an act worthy of himself and of the French army, he let relief be\ +distributed to those who had been burned out. But as food was too\ +precious to be given to foreigners, who were for the most part enemies,\ +Napoleon preferred to supply them with money with which to purchase food\ +from outside, and had paper rubles distributed to them."\ +\ +With reference to army discipline, orders were continually being issued\ +to inflict severe punishment for the nonperformance of military duties\ +and to suppress robbery.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER X\ +\ +But strange to say, all these measures, efforts, and plans--which were\ +not at all worse than others issued in similar circumstances--did not\ +affect the essence of the matter but, like the hands of a clock detached\ +from the mechanism, swung about in an arbitrary and aimless way without\ +engaging the cogwheels.\ +\ +With reference to the military side--the plan of campaign--that work of\ +genius of which Thiers remarks that, "His genius never devised anything\ +more profound, more skillful, or more admirable," and enters into a\ +polemic with M. Fain to prove that this work of genius must be referred\ +not to the fourth but to the fifteenth of October--that plan never was\ +or could be executed, for it was quite out of touch with the facts of\ +the case. The fortifying of the Kremlin, for which la Mosquee (as\ +Napoleon termed the church of Basil the Beatified) was to have been\ +razed to the ground, proved quite useless. The mining of the Kremlin\ +only helped toward fulfilling Napoleon's wish that it should be blown up\ +when he left Moscow--as a child wants the floor on which he has hurt\ +himself to be beaten. The pursuit of the Russian army, about which\ +Napoleon was so concerned, produced an unheard-of result. The French\ +generals lost touch with the Russian army of sixty thousand men, and\ +according to Thiers it was only eventually found, like a lost pin, by\ +the skill--and apparently the genius--of Murat.\ +\ +With reference to diplomacy, all Napoleon's arguments as to his\ +magnanimity and justice, both to Tutolmin and to Yakovlev (whose chief\ +concern was to obtain a greatcoat and a conveyance), proved useless;\ +Alexander did not receive these envoys and did not reply to their\ +embassage.\ +\ +With regard to legal matters, after the execution of the supposed\ +incendiaries the rest of Moscow burned down.\ +\ +With regard to administrative matters, the establishment of a\ +municipality did not stop the robberies and was only of use to certain\ +people who formed part of that municipality and under pretext of\ +preserving order looted Moscow or saved their own property from being\ +looted.\ +\ +With regard to religion, as to which in Egypt matters had so easily been\ +settled by Napoleon's visit to a mosque, no results were achieved. Two\ +or three priests who were found in Moscow did try to carry out\ +Napoleon's wish, but one of them was slapped in the face by a French\ +soldier while conducting service, and a French official reported of\ +another that: "The priest whom I found and invited to say Mass cleaned\ +and locked up the church. That night the doors were again broken open,\ +the padlocks smashed, the books mutilated, and other disorders\ +perpetrated."\ +\ +With reference to commerce, the proclamation to industrious workmen and\ +to peasants evoked no response. There were no industrious workmen, and\ +the peasants caught the commissaries who ventured too far out of town\ +with the proclamation and killed them.\ +\ +As to the theaters for the entertainment of the people and the troops,\ +these did not meet with success either. The theaters set up in the\ +Kremlin and in Posnyakov's house were closed again at once because the\ +actors and actresses were robbed.\ +\ +Even philanthropy did not have the desired effect. The genuine as well\ +as the false paper money which flooded Moscow lost its value. The\ +French, collecting booty, cared only for gold. Not only was the paper\ +money valueless which Napoleon so graciously distributed to the\ +unfortunate, but even silver lost its value in relation to gold.\ +\ +But the most amazing example of the ineffectiveness of the orders given\ +by the authorities at that time was Napoleon's attempt to stop the\ +looting and re-establish discipline.\ +\ +This is what the army authorities were reporting:\ +\ +"Looting continues in the city despite the decrees against it. Order is\ +not yet restored and not a single merchant is carrying on trade in a\ +lawful manner. The sutlers alone venture to trade, and they sell stolen\ +goods."\ +\ +"The neighborhood of my ward continues to be pillaged by soldiers of the\ +3rd Corps who, not satisfied with taking from the unfortunate\ +inhabitants hiding in the cellars the little they have left, even have\ +the ferocity to wound them with their sabers, as I have repeatedly\ +witnessed."\ +\ +"Nothing new, except that the soldiers are robbing and pillaging--\ +October 9."\ +\ +"Robbery and pillaging continue. There is a band of thieves in our\ +district who ought to be arrested by a strong force--October 11."\ +\ +"The Emperor is extremely displeased that despite the strict orders to\ +stop pillage, parties of marauding Guards are continually seen returning\ +to the Kremlin. Among the Old Guard disorder and pillage were renewed\ +more violently than ever yesterday evening, last night, and today. The\ +Emperor sees with regret that the picked soldiers appointed to guard his\ +person, who should set an example of discipline, carry disobedience to\ +such a point that they break into the cellars and stores containing army\ +supplies. Others have disgraced themselves to the extent of disobeying\ +sentinels and officers, and have abused and beaten them."\ +\ +"The Grand Marshal of the palace," wrote the governor, "complains\ +bitterly that in spite of repeated orders, the soldiers continue to\ +commit nuisances in all the courtyards and even under the very windows\ +of the Emperor."\ +\ +That army, like a herd of cattle run wild and trampling underfoot the\ +provender which might have saved it from starvation, disintegrated and\ +perished with each additional day it remained in Moscow. But it did not\ +go away.\ +\ +It began to run away only when suddenly seized by a panic caused by the\ +capture of transport trains on the Smolensk road, and by the battle of\ +Tarutino. The news of that battle of Tarutino, unexpectedly received by\ +Napoleon at a review, evoked in him a desire to punish the Russians\ +(Thiers says), and he issued the order for departure which the whole\ +army was demanding.\ +\ +Fleeing from Moscow the soldiers took with them everything they had\ +stolen. Napoleon, too, carried away his own personal tresor, but on\ +seeing the baggage trains that impeded the army, he was (Thiers says)\ +horror-struck. And yet with his experience of war he did not order all\ +the superfluous vehicles to be burned, as he had done with those of a\ +certain marshal when approaching Moscow. He gazed at the caleches and\ +carriages in which soldiers were riding and remarked that it was a very\ +good thing, as those vehicles could be used to carry provisions, the\ +sick, and the wounded.\ +\ +The plight of the whole army resembled that of a wounded animal which\ +feels it is perishing and does not know what it is doing. To study the\ +skillful tactics and aims of Napoleon and his army from the time it\ +entered Moscow till it was destroyed is like studying the dying leaps\ +and shudders of a mortally wounded animal. Very often a wounded animal,\ +hearing a rustle, rushes straight at the hunter's gun, runs forward and\ +back again, and hastens its own end. Napoleon, under pressure from his\ +whole army, did the same thing. The rustle of the battle of Tarutino\ +frightened the beast, and it rushed forward onto the hunter's gun,\ +reached him, turned back, and finally--like any wild beast--ran back\ +along the most disadvantageous and dangerous path, where the old scent\ +was familiar.\ +\ +During the whole of that period Napoleon, who seems to us to have been\ +the leader of all these movements--as the figurehead of a ship may seem\ +to a savage to guide the vessel--acted like a child who, holding a\ +couple of strings inside a carriage, thinks he is driving it.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XI\ +\ +Early in the morning of the sixth of October Pierre went out of the\ +shed, and on returning stopped by the door to play with a little blue-\ +gray dog, with a long body and short bandy legs, that jumped about him.\ +This little dog lived in their shed, sleeping beside Karataev at night;\ +it sometimes made excursions into the town but always returned again.\ +Probably it had never had an owner, and it still belonged to nobody and\ +had no name. The French called it Azor; the soldier who told stories\ +called it Femgalka; Karataev and others called it Gray, or sometimes\ +Flabby. Its lack of a master, a name, or even of a breed or any definite\ +color did not seem to trouble the blue-gray dog in the least. Its furry\ +tail stood up firm and round as a plume, its bandy legs served it so\ +well that it would often gracefully lift a hind leg and run very easily\ +and quickly on three legs, as if disdaining to use all four. Everything\ +pleased it. Now it would roll on its back, yelping with delight, now\ +bask in the sun with a thoughtful air of importance, and now frolic\ +about playing with a chip of wood or a straw.\ +\ +Pierre's attire by now consisted of a dirty torn shirt (the only remnant\ +of his former clothing), a pair of soldier's trousers which by\ +Karataev's advice he tied with string round the ankles for warmth, and a\ +peasant coat and cap. Physically he had changed much during this time.\ +He no longer seemed stout, though he still had the appearance of\ +solidity and strength hereditary in his family. A beard and mustache\ +covered the lower part of his face, and a tangle of hair, infested with\ +lice, curled round his head like a cap. The look of his eyes was\ +resolute, calm, and animatedly alert, as never before. The former\ +slackness which had shown itself even in his eyes was now replaced by an\ +energetic readiness for action and resistance. His feet were bare.\ +\ +Pierre first looked down the field across which vehicles and horsemen\ +were passing that morning, then into the distance across the river, then\ +at the dog who was pretending to be in earnest about biting him, and\ +then at his bare feet which he placed with pleasure in various\ +positions, moving his dirty thick big toes. Every time he looked at his\ +bare feet a smile of animated self-satisfaction flitted across his face.\ +The sight of them reminded him of all he had experienced and learned\ +during these weeks and this recollection was pleasant to him.\ +\ +For some days the weather had been calm and clear with slight frosts in\ +the mornings--what is called an "old wives' summer."\ +\ +In the sunshine the air was warm, and that warmth was particularly\ +pleasant with the invigorating freshness of the morning frost still in\ +the air.\ +\ +On everything--far and near--lay the magic crystal glitter seen only at\ +that time of autumn. The Sparrow Hills were visible in the distance,\ +with the village, the church, and the large white house. The bare trees,\ +the sand, the bricks and roofs of the houses, the green church spire,\ +and the corners of the white house in the distance, all stood out in the\ +transparent air in most delicate outline and with unnatural clearness.\ +Near by could be seen the familiar ruins of a half-burned mansion\ +occupied by the French, with lilac bushes still showing dark green\ +beside the fence. And even that ruined and befouled house--which in dull\ +weather was repulsively ugly--seemed quietly beautiful now, in the\ +clear, motionless brilliance.\ +\ +A French corporal, with coat unbuttoned in a homely way, a skullcap on\ +his head, and a short pipe in his mouth, came from behind a corner of\ +the shed and approached Pierre with a friendly wink.\ +\ +"What sunshine, Monsieur Kiril!" (Their name for Pierre.) "Eh? Just like\ +spring!"\ +\ +And the corporal leaned against the door and offered Pierre his pipe,\ +though whenever he offered it Pierre always declined it.\ +\ +"To be on the march in such weather..." he began.\ +\ +Pierre inquired what was being said about leaving, and the corporal told\ +him that nearly all the troops were starting and there ought to be an\ +order about the prisoners that day. Sokolov, one of the soldiers in the\ +shed with Pierre, was dying, and Pierre told the corporal that something\ +should be done about him. The corporal replied that Pierre need not\ +worry about that as they had an ambulance and a permanent hospital and\ +arrangements would be made for the sick, and that in general everything\ +that could happen had been foreseen by the authorities.\ +\ +"Besides, Monsieur Kiril, you have only to say a word to the captain,\ +you know. He is a man who never forgets anything. Speak to the captain\ +when he makes his round, he will do anything for you."\ +\ +(The captain of whom the corporal spoke often had long chats with Pierre\ +and showed him all sorts of favors.)\ +\ +"'You see, St. Thomas,' he said to me the other day. 'Monsieur Kiril is\ +a man of education, who speaks French. He is a Russian seigneur who has\ +had misfortunes, but he is a man. He knows what's what.... If he wants\ +anything and asks me, he won't get a refusal. When one has studied, you\ +see, one likes education and well-bred people.' It is for your sake I\ +mention it, Monsieur Kiril. The other day if it had not been for you\ +that affair would have ended ill."\ +\ +And after chatting a while longer, the corporal went away. (The affair\ +he had alluded to had happened a few days before--a fight between the\ +prisoners and the French soldiers, in which Pierre had succeeded in\ +pacifying his comrades.) Some of the prisoners who had heard Pierre\ +talking to the corporal immediately asked what the Frenchman had said.\ +While Pierre was repeating what he had been told about the army leaving\ +Moscow, a thin, sallow, tattered French soldier came up to the door of\ +the shed. Rapidly and timidly raising his fingers to his forehead by way\ +of greeting, he asked Pierre whether the soldier Platoche to whom he had\ +given a shirt to sew was in that shed.\ +\ +A week before the French had had boot leather and linen issued to them,\ +which they had given out to the prisoners to make up into boots and\ +shirts for them.\ +\ +"Ready, ready, dear fellow!" said Karataev, coming out with a neatly\ +folded shirt.\ +\ +Karataev, on account of the warm weather and for convenience at work,\ +was wearing only trousers and a tattered shirt as black as soot. His\ +hair was bound round, workman fashion, with a wisp of lime-tree bast,\ +and his round face seemed rounder and pleasanter than ever.\ +\ +"A promise is own brother to performance! I said Friday and here it is,\ +ready," said Platon, smiling and unfolding the shirt he had sewn.\ +\ +The Frenchman glanced around uneasily and then, as if overcoming his\ +hesitation, rapidly threw off his uniform and put on the shirt. He had a\ +long, greasy, flowered silk waistcoat next to his sallow, thin bare\ +body, but no shirt. He was evidently afraid the prisoners looking on\ +would laugh at him, and thrust his head into the shirt hurriedly. None\ +of the prisoners said a word.\ +\ +"See, it fits well!" Platon kept repeating, pulling the shirt straight.\ +\ +The Frenchman, having pushed his head and hands through, without raising\ +his eyes, looked down at the shirt and examined the seams.\ +\ +"You see, dear man, this is not a sewing shop, and I had no proper\ +tools; and, as they say, one needs a tool even to kill a louse," said\ +Platon with one of his round smiles, obviously pleased with his work.\ +\ +"It's good, quite good, thank you," said the Frenchman, in French, "but\ +there must be some linen left over."\ +\ +"It will fit better still when it sets to your body," said Karataev,\ +still admiring his handiwork. "You'll be nice and comfortable...."\ +\ +"Thanks, thanks, old fellow.... But the bits left over?" said the\ +Frenchman again and smiled. He took out an assignation ruble note and\ +gave it to Karataev. "But give me the pieces that are over."\ +\ +Pierre saw that Platon did not want to understand what the Frenchman was\ +saying, and he looked on without interfering. Karataev thanked the\ +Frenchman for the money and went on admiring his own work. The Frenchman\ +insisted on having the pieces returned that were left over and asked\ +Pierre to translate what he said.\ +\ +"What does he want the bits for?" said Karataev. "They'd make fine leg\ +bands for us. Well, never mind."\ +\ +And Karataev, with a suddenly changed and saddened expression, took a\ +small bundle of scraps from inside his shirt and gave it to the\ +Frenchman without looking at him. "Oh dear!" muttered Karataev and went\ +away. The Frenchman looked at the linen, considered for a moment, then\ +looked inquiringly at Pierre and, as if Pierre's look had told him\ +something, suddenly blushed and shouted in a squeaky voice:\ +\ +"Platoche! Eh, Platoche! Keep them yourself!" And handing back the odd\ +bits he turned and went out.\ +\ +"There, look at that," said Karataev, swaying his head. "People said\ +they were not Christians, but they too have souls. It's what the old\ +folk used to say: 'A sweating hand's an open hand, a dry hand's close.'\ +He's naked, but yet he's given it back."\ +\ +Karataev smiled thoughtfully and was silent awhile looking at the\ +pieces.\ +\ +"But they'll make grand leg bands, dear friend," he said, and went back\ +into the shed.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XII\ +\ +Four weeks had passed since Pierre had been taken prisoner and though\ +the French had offered to move him from the men's to the officers' shed,\ +he had stayed in the shed where he was first put.\ +\ +In burned and devastated Moscow Pierre experienced almost the extreme\ +limits of privation a man can endure; but thanks to his physical\ +strength and health, of which he had till then been unconscious, and\ +thanks especially to the fact that the privations came so gradually that\ +it was impossible to say when they began, he endured his position not\ +only lightly but joyfully. And just at this time he obtained the\ +tranquillity and ease of mind he had formerly striven in vain to reach.\ +He had long sought in different ways that tranquillity of mind, that\ +inner harmony which had so impressed him in the soldiers at the battle\ +of Borodino. He had sought it in philanthropy, in Freemasonry, in the\ +dissipations of town life, in wine, in heroic feats of self-sacrifice,\ +and in romantic love for Natasha; he had sought it by reasoning--and all\ +these quests and experiments had failed him. And now without thinking\ +about it he had found that peace and inner harmony only through the\ +horror of death, through privation, and through what he recognized in\ +Karataev.\ +\ +Those dreadful moments he had lived through at the executions had as it\ +were forever washed away from his imagination and memory the agitating\ +thoughts and feelings that had formerly seemed so important. It did not\ +now occur to him to think of Russia, or the war, or politics, or\ +Napoleon. It was plain to him that all these things were no business of\ +his, and that he was not called on to judge concerning them and\ +therefore could not do so. "Russia and summer weather are not bound\ +together," he thought, repeating words of Karataev's which he found\ +strangely consoling. His intention of killing Napoleon and his\ +calculations of the cabalistic number of the beast of the Apocalypse now\ +seemed to him meaningless and even ridiculous. His anger with his wife\ +and anxiety that his name should not be smirched now seemed not merely\ +trivial but even amusing. What concern was it of his that somewhere or\ +other that woman was leading the life she preferred? What did it matter\ +to anybody, and especially to him, whether or not they found out that\ +their prisoner's name was Count Bezukhov?\ +\ +He now often remembered his conversation with Prince Andrew and quite\ +agreed with him, though he understood Prince Andrew's thoughts somewhat\ +differently. Prince Andrew had thought and said that happiness could\ +only be negative, but had said it with a shade of bitterness and irony\ +as though he was really saying that all desire for positive happiness is\ +implanted in us merely to torment us and never be satisfied. But Pierre\ +believed it without any mental reservation. The absence of suffering,\ +the satisfaction of one's needs and consequent freedom in the choice of\ +one's occupation, that is, of one's way of life, now seemed to Pierre to\ +be indubitably man's highest happiness. Here and now for the first time\ +he fully appreciated the enjoyment of eating when he wanted to eat,\ +drinking when he wanted to drink, sleeping when he wanted to sleep, of\ +warmth when he was cold, of talking to a fellow man when he wished to\ +talk and to hear a human voice. The satisfaction of one's needs--good\ +food, cleanliness, and freedom--now that he was deprived of all this,\ +seemed to Pierre to constitute perfect happiness; and the choice of\ +occupation, that is, of his way of life--now that that was so\ +restricted--seemed to him such an easy matter that he forgot that a\ +superfluity of the comforts of life destroys all joy in satisfying one's\ +needs, while great freedom in the choice of occupation--such freedom as\ +his wealth, his education, and his social position had given him in his\ +own life--is just what makes the choice of occupation insolubly\ +difficult and destroys the desire and possibility of having an\ +occupation.\ +\ +All Pierre's daydreams now turned on the time when he would be free. Yet\ +subsequently, and for the rest of his life, he thought and spoke with\ +enthusiasm of that month of captivity, of those irrecoverable, strong,\ +joyful sensations, and chiefly of the complete peace of mind and inner\ +freedom which he experienced only during those weeks.\ +\ +When on the first day he got up early, went out of the shed at dawn, and\ +saw the cupolas and crosses of the New Convent of the Virgin still dark\ +at first, the hoarfrost on the dusty grass, the Sparrow Hills, and the\ +wooded banks above the winding river vanishing in the purple distance,\ +when he felt the contact of the fresh air and heard the noise of the\ +crows flying from Moscow across the field, and when afterwards light\ +gleamed from the east and the sun's rim appeared solemnly from behind a\ +cloud, and the cupolas and crosses, the hoarfrost, the distance and the\ +river, all began to sparkle in the glad light--Pierre felt a new joy and\ +strength in life such as he had never before known. And this not only\ +stayed with him during the whole of his imprisonment, but even grew in\ +strength as the hardships of his position increased.\ +\ +That feeling of alertness and of readiness for anything was still\ +further strengthened in him by the high opinion his fellow prisoners\ +formed of him soon after his arrival at the shed. With his knowledge of\ +languages, the respect shown him by the French, his simplicity, his\ +readiness to give anything asked of him (he received the allowance of\ +three rubles a week made to officers); with his strength, which he\ +showed to the soldiers by pressing nails into the walls of the hut; his\ +gentleness to his companions, and his capacity for sitting still and\ +thinking without doing anything (which seemed to them incomprehensible),\ +he appeared to them a rather mysterious and superior being. The very\ +qualities that had been a hindrance, if not actually harmful, to him in\ +the world he had lived in--his strength, his disdain for the comforts of\ +life, his absent-mindedness and simplicity--here among these people gave\ +him almost the status of a hero. And Pierre felt that their opinion\ +placed responsibilities upon him.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XIII\ +\ +The French evacuation began on the night between the sixth and seventh\ +of October: kitchens and sheds were dismantled, carts loaded, and troops\ +and baggage trains started.\ +\ +At seven in the morning a French convoy in marching trim, wearing shakos\ +and carrying muskets, knapsacks, and enormous sacks, stood in front of\ +the sheds, and animated French talk mingled with curses sounded all\ +along the lines.\ +\ +In the shed everyone was ready, dressed, belted, shod, and only awaited\ +the order to start. The sick soldier, Sokolov, pale and thin with dark\ +shadows round his eyes, alone sat in his place barefoot and not dressed.\ +His eyes, prominent from the emaciation of his face, gazed inquiringly\ +at his comrades who were paying no attention to him, and he moaned\ +regularly and quietly. It was evidently not so much his sufferings that\ +caused him to moan (he had dysentery) as his fear and grief at being\ +left alone.\ +\ +Pierre, girt with a rope round his waist and wearing shoes Karataev had\ +made for him from some leather a French soldier had torn off a tea chest\ +and brought to have his boots mended with, went up to the sick man and\ +squatted down beside him.\ +\ +"You know, Sokolov, they are not all going away! They have a hospital\ +here. You may be better off than we others," said Pierre.\ +\ +"O Lord! Oh, it will be the death of me! O Lord!" moaned the man in a\ +louder voice.\ +\ +"I'll go and ask them again directly," said Pierre, rising and going to\ +the door of the shed.\ +\ +Just as Pierre reached the door, the corporal who had offered him a pipe\ +the day before came up to it with two soldiers. The corporal and\ +soldiers were in marching kit with knapsacks and shakos that had metal\ +straps, and these changed their familiar faces.\ +\ +The corporal came, according to orders, to shut the door. The prisoners\ +had to be counted before being let out.\ +\ +"Corporal, what will they do with the sick man?..." Pierre began.\ +\ +But even as he spoke he began to doubt whether this was the corporal he\ +knew or a stranger, so unlike himself did the corporal seem at that\ +moment. Moreover, just as Pierre was speaking a sharp rattle of drums\ +was suddenly heard from both sides. The corporal frowned at Pierre's\ +words and, uttering some meaningless oaths, slammed the door. The shed\ +became semidark, and the sharp rattle of the drums on two sides drowned\ +the sick man's groans.\ +\ +"There it is!... It again!..." said Pierre to himself, and an\ +involuntary shudder ran down his spine. In the corporal's changed face,\ +in the sound of his voice, in the stirring and deafening noise of the\ +drums, he recognized that mysterious, callous force which compelled\ +people against their will to kill their fellow men--that force the\ +effect of which he had witnessed during the executions. To fear or to\ +try to escape that force, to address entreaties or exhortations to those\ +who served as its tools, was useless. Pierre knew this now. One had to\ +wait and endure. He did not again go to the sick man, nor turn to look\ +at him, but stood frowning by the door of the hut.\ +\ +When that door was opened and the prisoners, crowding against one\ +another like a flock of sheep, squeezed into the exit, Pierre pushed his\ +way forward and approached that very captain who as the corporal had\ +assured him was ready to do anything for him. The captain was also in\ +marching kit, and on his cold face appeared that same it which Pierre\ +had recognized in the corporal's words and in the roll of the drums.\ +\ +"Pass on, pass on!" the captain reiterated, frowning sternly, and\ +looking at the prisoners who thronged past him.\ +\ +Pierre went up to him, though he knew his attempt would be vain.\ +\ +"What now?" the officer asked with a cold look as if not recognizing\ +Pierre.\ +\ +Pierre told him about the sick man.\ +\ +"He'll manage to walk, devil take him!" said the captain. "Pass on, pass\ +on!" he continued without looking at Pierre.\ +\ +"But he is dying," Pierre again began.\ +\ +"Be so good..." shouted the captain, frowning angrily.\ +\ +"Dram-da-da-dam, dam-dam..." rattled the drums, and Pierre understood\ +that this mysterious force completely controlled these men and that it\ +was now useless to say any more.\ +\ +The officer prisoners were separated from the soldiers and told to march\ +in front. There were about thirty officers, with Pierre among them, and\ +about three hundred men.\ +\ +The officers, who had come from the other sheds, were all strangers to\ +Pierre and much better dressed than he. They looked at him and at his\ +shoes mistrustfully, as at an alien. Not far from him walked a fat major\ +with a sallow, bloated, angry face, who was wearing a Kazan dressing\ +gown tied round with a towel, and who evidently enjoyed the respect of\ +his fellow prisoners. He kept one hand, in which he clasped his tobacco\ +pouch, inside the bosom of his dressing gown and held the stem of his\ +pipe firmly with the other. Panting and puffing, the major grumbled and\ +growled at everybody because he thought he was being pushed and that\ +they were all hurrying when they had nowhere to hurry to and were all\ +surprised at something when there was nothing to be surprised at.\ +Another, a thin little officer, was speaking to everyone, conjecturing\ +where they were now being taken and how far they would get that day. An\ +official in felt boots and wearing a commissariat uniform ran round from\ +side to side and gazed at the ruins of Moscow, loudly announcing his\ +observations as to what had been burned down and what this or that part\ +of the city was that they could see. A third officer, who by his accent\ +was a Pole, disputed with the commissariat officer, arguing that he was\ +mistaken in his identification of the different wards of Moscow.\ +\ +"What are you disputing about?" said the major angrily. "What does it\ +matter whether it is St. Nicholas or St. Blasius? You see it's burned\ +down, and there's an end of it.... What are you pushing for? Isn't the\ +road wide enough?" said he, turning to a man behind him who was not\ +pushing him at all.\ +\ +"Oh, oh, oh! What have they done?" the prisoners on one side and another\ +were heard saying as they gazed on the charred ruins. "All beyond the\ +river, and Zubova, and in the Kremlin.... Just look! There's not half of\ +it left. Yes, I told you--the whole quarter beyond the river, and so it\ +is."\ +\ +"Well, you know it's burned, so what's the use of talking?" said the\ +major.\ +\ +As they passed near a church in the Khamovniki (one of the few unburned\ +quarters of Moscow) the whole mass of prisoners suddenly started to one\ +side and exclamations of horror and disgust were heard.\ +\ +"Ah, the villains! What heathens! Yes; dead, dead, so he is... And\ +smeared with something!"\ +\ +Pierre too drew near the church where the thing was that evoked these\ +exclamations, and dimly made out something leaning against the palings\ +surrounding the church. From the words of his comrades who saw better\ +than he did, he found that this was the body of a man, set upright\ +against the palings with its face smeared with soot.\ +\ +"Go on! What the devil... Go on! Thirty thousand devils!..." the convoy\ +guards began cursing and the French soldiers, with fresh virulence,\ +drove away with their swords the crowd of prisoners who were gazing at\ +the dead man.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XIV\ +\ +Through the cross streets of the Khamovniki quarter the prisoners\ +marched, followed only by their escort and the vehicles and wagons\ +belonging to that escort, but when they reached the supply stores they\ +came among a huge and closely packed train of artillery mingled with\ +private vehicles.\ +\ +At the bridge they all halted, waiting for those in front to get across.\ +From the bridge they had a view of endless lines of moving baggage\ +trains before and behind them. To the right, where the Kaluga road turns\ +near Neskuchny, endless rows of troops and carts stretched away into the\ +distance. These were troops of Beauharnais' corps which had started\ +before any of the others. Behind, along the riverside and across the\ +Stone Bridge, were Ney's troops and transport.\ +\ +Davout's troops, in whose charge were the prisoners, were crossing the\ +Crimean bridge and some were already debouching into the Kaluga road.\ +But the baggage trains stretched out so that the last of Beauharnais'\ +train had not yet got out of Moscow and reached the Kaluga road when the\ +vanguard of Ney's army was already emerging from the Great Ordynka\ +Street.\ +\ +When they had crossed the Crimean bridge the prisoners moved a few steps\ +forward, halted, and again moved on, and from all sides vehicles and men\ +crowded closer and closer together. They advanced the few hundred paces\ +that separated the bridge from the Kaluga road, taking more than an hour\ +to do so, and came out upon the square where the streets of the\ +Transmoskva ward and the Kaluga road converge, and the prisoners jammed\ +close together had to stand for some hours at that crossway. From all\ +sides, like the roar of the sea, were heard the rattle of wheels, the\ +tramp of feet, and incessant shouts of anger and abuse. Pierre stood\ +pressed against the wall of a charred house, listening to that noise\ +which mingled in his imagination with the roll of the drums.\ +\ +To get a better view, several officer prisoners climbed onto the wall of\ +the half-burned house against which Pierre was leaning.\ +\ +"What crowds! Just look at the crowds!... They've loaded goods even on\ +the cannon! Look there, those are furs!" they exclaimed. "Just see what\ +the blackguards have looted.... There! See what that one has behind in\ +the cart.... Why, those are settings taken from some icons, by\ +heaven!... Oh, the rascals!... See how that fellow has loaded himself\ +up, he can hardly walk! Good lord, they've even grabbed those\ +chaises!... See that fellow there sitting on the trunks.... Heavens!\ +They're fighting."\ +\ +"That's right, hit him on the snout--on his snout! Like this, we shan't\ +get away before evening. Look, look there.... Why, that must be\ +Napoleon's own. See what horses! And the monograms with a crown! It's\ +like a portable house.... That fellow's dropped his sack and doesn't see\ +it. Fighting again... A woman with a baby, and not bad-looking either!\ +Yes, I dare say, that's the way they'll let you pass... Just look,\ +there's no end to it. Russian wenches, by heaven, so they are! In\ +carriages--see how comfortably they've settled themselves!"\ +\ +Again, as at the church in Khamovniki, a wave of general curiosity bore\ +all the prisoners forward onto the road, and Pierre, thanks to his\ +stature, saw over the heads of the others what so attracted their\ +curiosity. In three carriages involved among the munition carts, closely\ +squeezed together, sat women with rouged faces, dressed in glaring\ +colors, who were shouting something in shrill voices.\ +\ +From the moment Pierre had recognized the appearance of the mysterious\ +force nothing had seemed to him strange or dreadful: neither the corpse\ +smeared with soot for fun nor these women hurrying away nor the burned\ +ruins of Moscow. All that he now witnessed scarcely made an impression\ +on him--as if his soul, making ready for a hard struggle, refused to\ +receive impressions that might weaken it.\ +\ +The women's vehicles drove by. Behind them came more carts, soldiers,\ +wagons, soldiers, gun carriages, carriages, soldiers, ammunition carts,\ +more soldiers, and now and then women.\ +\ +Pierre did not see the people as individuals but saw their movement.\ +\ +All these people and horses seemed driven forward by some invisible\ +power. During the hour Pierre watched them they all came flowing from\ +the different streets with one and the same desire to get on quickly;\ +they all jostled one another, began to grow angry and to fight, white\ +teeth gleamed, brows frowned, ever the same words of abuse flew from\ +side to side, and all the faces bore the same swaggeringly resolute and\ +coldly cruel expression that had struck Pierre that morning on the\ +corporal's face when the drums were beating.\ +\ +It was not till nearly evening that the officer commanding the escort\ +collected his men and with shouts and quarrels forced his way in among\ +the baggage trains, and the prisoners, hemmed in on all sides, emerged\ +onto the Kaluga road.\ +\ +They marched very quickly, without resting, and halted only when the sun\ +began to set. The baggage carts drew up close together and the men began\ +to prepare for their night's rest. They all appeared angry and\ +dissatisfied. For a long time, oaths, angry shouts, and fighting could\ +be heard from all sides. A carriage that followed the escort ran into\ +one of the carts and knocked a hole in it with its pole. Several\ +soldiers ran toward the cart from different sides: some beat the\ +carriage horses on their heads, turning them aside, others fought among\ +themselves, and Pierre saw that one German was badly wounded on the head\ +by a sword.\ +\ +It seemed that all these men, now that they had stopped amid fields in\ +the chill dusk of the autumn evening, experienced one and the same\ +feeling of unpleasant awakening from the hurry and eagerness to push on\ +that had seized them at the start. Once at a standstill they all seemed\ +to understand that they did not yet know where they were going, and that\ +much that was painful and difficult awaited them on this journey.\ +\ +During this halt the escort treated the prisoners even worse than they\ +had done at the start. It was here that the prisoners for the first time\ +received horseflesh for their meat ration.\ +\ +From the officer down to the lowest soldier they showed what seemed like\ +personal spite against each of the prisoners, in unexpected contrast to\ +their former friendly relations.\ +\ +This spite increased still more when, on calling over the roll of\ +prisoners, it was found that in the bustle of leaving Moscow one Russian\ +soldier, who had pretended to suffer from colic, had escaped. Pierre saw\ +a Frenchman beat a Russian soldier cruelly for straying too far from the\ +road, and heard his friend the captain reprimand and threaten to court-\ +martial a noncommissioned officer on account of the escape of the\ +Russian. To the noncommissioned officer's excuse that the prisoner was\ +ill and could not walk, the officer replied that the order was to shoot\ +those who lagged behind. Pierre felt that that fatal force which had\ +crushed him during the executions, but which he had not felt during his\ +imprisonment, now again controlled his existence. It was terrible, but\ +he felt that in proportion to the efforts of that fatal force to crush\ +him, there grew and strengthened in his soul a power of life independent\ +of it.\ +\ +He ate his supper of buckwheat soup with horseflesh and chatted with his\ +comrades.\ +\ +Neither Pierre nor any of the others spoke of what they had seen in\ +Moscow, or of the roughness of their treatment by the French, or of the\ +order to shoot them which had been announced to them. As if in reaction\ +against the worsening of their position they were all particularly\ +animated and gay. They spoke of personal reminiscences, of amusing\ +scenes they had witnessed during the campaign, and avoided all talk of\ +their present situation.\ +\ +The sun had set long since. Bright stars shone out here and there in the\ +sky. A red glow as of a conflagration spread above the horizon from the\ +rising full moon, and that vast red ball swayed strangely in the gray\ +haze. It grew light. The evening was ending, but the night had not yet\ +come. Pierre got up and left his new companions, crossing between the\ +campfires to the other side of the road where he had been told the\ +common soldier prisoners were stationed. He wanted to talk to them. On\ +the road he was stopped by a French sentinel who ordered him back.\ +\ +Pierre turned back, not to his companions by the campfire, but to an\ +unharnessed cart where there was nobody. Tucking his legs under him and\ +dropping his head he sat down on the cold ground by the wheel of the\ +cart and remained motionless a long while sunk in thought. Suddenly he\ +burst out into a fit of his broad, good-natured laughter, so loud that\ +men from various sides turned with surprise to see what this strange and\ +evidently solitary laughter could mean.\ +\ +"Ha-ha-ha!" laughed Pierre. And he said aloud to himself: "The soldier\ +did not let me pass. They took me and shut me up. They hold me captive.\ +What, me? Me? My immortal soul? Ha-ha-ha! Ha-ha-ha!..." and he laughed\ +till tears started to his eyes.\ +\ +A man got up and came to see what this queer big fellow was laughing at\ +all by himself. Pierre stopped laughing, got up, went farther away from\ +the inquisitive man, and looked around him.\ +\ +The huge, endless bivouac that had previously resounded with the\ +crackling of campfires and the voices of many men had grown quiet, the\ +red campfires were growing paler and dying down. High up in the light\ +sky hung the full moon. Forests and fields beyond the camp, unseen\ +before, were now visible in the distance. And farther still, beyond\ +those forests and fields, the bright, oscillating, limitless distance\ +lured one to itself. Pierre glanced up at the sky and the twinkling\ +stars in its faraway depths. "And all that is me, all that is within me,\ +and it is all I!" thought Pierre. "And they caught all that and put it\ +into a shed boarded up with planks!" He smiled, and went and lay down to\ +sleep beside his companions.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XV\ +\ +In the early days of October another envoy came to Kutuzov with a letter\ +from Napoleon proposing peace and falsely dated from Moscow, though\ +Napoleon was already not far from Kutuzov on the old Kaluga road.\ +Kutuzov replied to this letter as he had done to the one formerly\ +brought by Lauriston, saying that there could be no question of peace.\ +\ +Soon after that a report was received from Dorokhov's guerrilla\ +detachment operating to the left of Tarutino that troops of Broussier's\ +division had been seen at Forminsk and that being separated from the\ +rest of the French army they might easily be destroyed. The soldiers and\ +officers again demanded action. Generals on the staff, excited by the\ +memory of the easy victory at Tarutino, urged Kutuzov to carry out\ +Dorokhov's suggestion. Kutuzov did not consider any offensive necessary.\ +The result was a compromise which was inevitable: a small detachment was\ +sent to Forminsk to attack Broussier.\ +\ +By a strange coincidence, this task, which turned out to be a most\ +difficult and important one, was entrusted to Dokhturov--that same\ +modest little Dokhturov whom no one had described to us as drawing up\ +plans of battles, dashing about in front of regiments, showering crosses\ +on batteries, and so on, and who was thought to be and was spoken of as\ +undecided and undiscerning--but whom we find commanding wherever the\ +position was most difficult all through the Russo-French wars from\ +Austerlitz to the year 1813. At Austerlitz he remained last at the\ +Augezd dam, rallying the regiments, saving what was possible when all\ +were flying and perishing and not a single general was left in the rear\ +guard. Ill with fever he went to Smolensk with twenty thousand men to\ +defend the town against Napoleon's whole army. In Smolensk, at the\ +Malakhov Gate, he had hardly dozed off in a paroxysm of fever before he\ +was awakened by the bombardment of the town--and Smolensk held out all\ +day long. At the battle of Borodino, when Bagration was killed and nine\ +tenths of the men of our left flank had fallen and the full force of the\ +French artillery fire was directed against it, the man sent there was\ +this same irresolute and undiscerning Dokhturov--Kutuzov hastening to\ +rectify a mistake he had made by sending someone else there first. And\ +the quiet little Dokhturov rode thither, and Borodino became the\ +greatest glory of the Russian army. Many heroes have been described to\ +us in verse and prose, but of Dokhturov scarcely a word has been said.\ +\ +It was Dokhturov again whom they sent to Forminsk and from there to\ +Malo-Yaroslavets, the place where the last battle with the French was\ +fought and where the obvious disintegration of the French army began;\ +and we are told of many geniuses and heroes of that period of the\ +campaign, but of Dokhturov nothing or very little is said and that\ +dubiously. And this silence about Dokhturov is the clearest testimony to\ +his merit.\ +\ +It is natural for a man who does not understand the workings of a\ +machine to imagine that a shaving that has fallen into it by chance and\ +is interfering with its action and tossing about in it is its most\ +important part. The man who does not understand the construction of the\ +machine cannot conceive that the small connecting cogwheel which\ +revolves quietly is one of the most essential parts of the machine, and\ +not the shaving which merely harms and hinders the working.\ +\ +On the tenth of October when Dokhturov had gone halfway to Forminsk and\ +stopped at the village of Aristovo, preparing faithfully to execute the\ +orders he had received, the whole French army having, in its convulsive\ +movement, reached Murat's position apparently in order to give battle--\ +suddenly without any reason turned off to the left onto the new Kaluga\ +road and began to enter Forminsk, where only Broussier had been till\ +then. At that time Dokhturov had under his command, besides Dorokhov's\ +detachment, the two small guerrilla detachments of Figner and Seslavin.\ +\ +On the evening of October 11 Seslavin came to the Aristovo headquarters\ +with a French guardsman he had captured. The prisoner said that the\ +troops that had entered Forminsk that day were the vanguard of the whole\ +army, that Napoleon was there and the whole army had left Moscow four\ +days previously. That same evening a house serf who had come from\ +Borovsk said he had seen an immense army entering the town. Some\ +Cossacks of Dokhturov's detachment reported having sighted the French\ +Guards marching along the road to Borovsk. From all these reports it was\ +evident that where they had expected to meet a single division there was\ +now the whole French army marching from Moscow in an unexpected\ +direction--along the Kaluga road. Dokhturov was unwilling to undertake\ +any action, as it was not clear to him now what he ought to do. He had\ +been ordered to attack Forminsk. But only Broussier had been there at\ +that time and now the whole French army was there. Ermolov wished to act\ +on his own judgment, but Dokhturov insisted that he must have Kutuzov's\ +instructions. So it was decided to send a dispatch to the staff.\ +\ +For this purpose a capable officer, Bolkhovitinov, was chosen, who was\ +to explain the whole affair by word of mouth, besides delivering a\ +written report. Toward midnight Bolkhovitinov, having received the\ +dispatch and verbal instructions, galloped off to the General Staff\ +accompanied by a Cossack with spare horses.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XVI\ +\ +It was a warm, dark, autumn night. It had been raining for four days.\ +Having changed horses twice and galloped twenty miles in an hour and a\ +half over a sticky, muddy road, Bolkhovitinov reached Litashevka after\ +one o'clock at night. Dismounting at a cottage on whose wattle fence\ +hung a signboard, GENERAL STAFF, and throwing down his reins, he entered\ +a dark passage.\ +\ +"The general on duty, quick! It's very important!" said he to someone\ +who had risen and was sniffing in the dark passage.\ +\ +"He has been very unwell since the evening and this is the third night\ +he has not slept," said the orderly pleadingly in a whisper. "You should\ +wake the captain first."\ +\ +"But this is very important, from General Dokhturov," said\ +Bolkhovitinov, entering the open door which he had found by feeling in\ +the dark.\ +\ +The orderly had gone in before him and began waking somebody.\ +\ +"Your honor, your honor! A courier."\ +\ +"What? What's that? From whom?" came a sleepy voice.\ +\ +"From Dokhturov and from Alexey Petrovich. Napoleon is at Forminsk,"\ +said Bolkhovitinov, unable to see in the dark who was speaking but\ +guessing by the voice that it was not Konovnitsyn.\ +\ +The man who had wakened yawned and stretched himself.\ +\ +"I don't like waking him," he said, fumbling for something. "He is very\ +ill. Perhaps this is only a rumor."\ +\ +"Here is the dispatch," said Bolkhovitinov. "My orders are to give it at\ +once to the general on duty."\ +\ +"Wait a moment, I'll light a candle. You damned rascal, where do you\ +always hide it?" said the voice of the man who was stretching himself,\ +to the orderly. (This was Shcherbinin, Konovnitsyn's adjutant.) "I've\ +found it, I've found it!" he added.\ +\ +The orderly was striking a light and Shcherbinin was fumbling for\ +something on the candlestick.\ +\ +"Oh, the nasty beasts!" said he with disgust.\ +\ +By the light of the sparks Bolkhovitinov saw Shcherbinin's youthful face\ +as he held the candle, and the face of another man who was still asleep.\ +This was Konovnitsyn.\ +\ +When the flame of the sulphur splinters kindled by the tinder burned up,\ +first blue and then red, Shcherbinin lit the tallow candle, from the\ +candlestick of which the cockroaches that had been gnawing it were\ +running away, and looked at the messenger. Bolkhovitinov was bespattered\ +all over with mud and had smeared his face by wiping it with his sleeve.\ +\ +"Who gave the report?" inquired Shcherbinin, taking the envelope.\ +\ +"The news is reliable," said Bolkhovitinov. "Prisoners, Cossacks, and\ +the scouts all say the same thing."\ +\ +"There's nothing to be done, we'll have to wake him," said Shcherbinin,\ +rising and going up to the man in the nightcap who lay covered by a\ +greatcoat. "Peter Petrovich!" said he. (Konovnitsyn did not stir.) "To\ +the General Staff!" he said with a smile, knowing that those words would\ +be sure to arouse him.\ +\ +And in fact the head in the nightcap was lifted at once. On\ +Konovnitsyn's handsome, resolute face with cheeks flushed by fever,\ +there still remained for an instant a faraway dreamy expression remote\ +from present affairs, but then he suddenly started and his face assumed\ +its habitual calm and firm appearance.\ +\ +"Well, what is it? From whom?" he asked immediately but without hurry,\ +blinking at the light.\ +\ +While listening to the officer's report Konovnitsyn broke the seal and\ +read the dispatch. Hardly had he done so before he lowered his legs in\ +their woolen stockings to the earthen floor and began putting on his\ +boots. Then he took off his nightcap, combed his hair over his temples,\ +and donned his cap.\ +\ +"Did you get here quickly? Let us go to his Highness."\ +\ +Konovnitsyn had understood at once that the news brought was of great\ +importance and that no time must be lost. He did not consider or ask\ +himself whether the news was good or bad. That did not interest him. He\ +regarded the whole business of the war not with his intelligence or his\ +reason but by something else. There was within him a deep unexpressed\ +conviction that all would be well, but that one must not trust to this\ +and still less speak about it, but must only attend to one's own work.\ +And he did his work, giving his whole strength to the task.\ +\ +Peter Petrovich Konovnitsyn, like Dokhturov, seems to have been included\ +merely for propriety's sake in the list of the so-called heroes of 1812-\ +-the Barclays, Raevskis, Ermolovs, Platovs, and Miloradoviches. Like\ +Dokhturov he had the reputation of being a man of very limited capacity\ +and information, and like Dokhturov he never made plans of battle but\ +was always found where the situation was most difficult. Since his\ +appointment as general on duty he had always slept with his door open,\ +giving orders that every messenger should be allowed to wake him up. In\ +battle he was always under fire, so that Kutuzov reproved him for it and\ +feared to send him to the front, and like Dokhturov he was one of those\ +unnoticed cogwheels that, without clatter or noise, constitute the most\ +essential part of the machine.\ +\ +Coming out of the hut into the damp, dark night Konovnitsyn frowned--\ +partly from an increased pain in his head and partly at the unpleasant\ +thought that occurred to him, of how all that nest of influential men on\ +the staff would be stirred up by this news, especially Bennigsen, who\ +ever since Tarutino had been at daggers drawn with Kutuzov; and how they\ +would make suggestions, quarrel, issue orders, and rescind them. And\ +this premonition was disagreeable to him though he knew it could not be\ +helped.\ +\ +And in fact Toll, to whom he went to communicate the news, immediately\ +began to expound his plans to a general sharing his quarters, until\ +Konovnitsyn, who listened in weary silence, reminded him that they must\ +go to see his Highness.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XVII\ +\ +Kutuzov like all old people did not sleep much at night. He often fell\ +asleep unexpectedly in the daytime, but at night, lying on his bed\ +without undressing, he generally remained awake thinking.\ +\ +So he lay now on his bed, supporting his large, heavy, scarred head on\ +his plump hand, with his one eye open, meditating and peering into the\ +darkness.\ +\ +Since Bennigsen, who corresponded with the Emperor and had more\ +influence than anyone else on the staff, had begun to avoid him, Kutuzov\ +was more at ease as to the possibility of himself and his troops being\ +obliged to take part in useless aggressive movements. The lesson of the\ +Tarutino battle and of the day before it, which Kutuzov remembered with\ +pain, must, he thought, have some effect on others too.\ +\ +"They must understand that we can only lose by taking the offensive.\ +Patience and time are my warriors, my champions," thought Kutuzov. He\ +knew that an apple should not be plucked while it is green. It will fall\ +of itself when ripe, but if picked unripe the apple is spoiled, the tree\ +is harmed, and your teeth are set on edge. Like an experienced sportsman\ +he knew that the beast was wounded, and wounded as only the whole\ +strength of Russia could have wounded it, but whether it was mortally\ +wounded or not was still an undecided question. Now by the fact of\ +Lauriston and Barthelemi having been sent, and by the reports of the\ +guerrillas, Kutuzov was almost sure that the wound was mortal. But he\ +needed further proofs and it was necessary to wait.\ +\ +"They want to run to see how they have wounded it. Wait and we shall\ +see! Continual maneuvers, continual advances!" thought he. "What for?\ +Only to distinguish themselves! As if fighting were fun. They are like\ +children from whom one can't get any sensible account of what has\ +happened because they all want to show how well they can fight. But\ +that's not what is needed now.\ +\ +"And what ingenious maneuvers they all propose to me! It seems to them\ +that when they have thought of two or three contingencies" (he\ +remembered the general plan sent him from Petersburg) "they have\ +foreseen everything. But the contingencies are endless."\ +\ +The undecided question as to whether the wound inflicted at Borodino was\ +mortal or not had hung over Kutuzov's head for a whole month. On the one\ +hand the French had occupied Moscow. On the other Kutuzov felt assured\ +with all his being that the terrible blow into which he and all the\ +Russians had put their whole strength must have been mortal. But in any\ +case proofs were needed; he had waited a whole month for them and grew\ +more impatient the longer he waited. Lying on his bed during those\ +sleepless nights he did just what he reproached those younger generals\ +for doing. He imagined all sorts of possible contingencies, just like\ +the younger men, but with this difference, that he saw thousands of\ +contingencies instead of two or three and based nothing on them. The\ +longer he thought the more contingencies presented themselves. He\ +imagined all sorts of movements of the Napoleonic army as a whole or in\ +sections--against Petersburg, or against him, or to outflank him. He\ +thought too of the possibility (which he feared most of all) that\ +Napoleon might fight him with his own weapon and remain in Moscow\ +awaiting him. Kutuzov even imagined that Napoleon's army might turn back\ +through Medyn and Yukhnov, but the one thing he could not foresee was\ +what happened--the insane, convulsive stampede of Napoleon's army during\ +its first eleven days after leaving Moscow: a stampede which made\ +possible what Kutuzov had not yet even dared to think of--the complete\ +extermination of the French. Dorokhov's report about Broussier's\ +division, the guerrillas' reports of distress in Napoleon's army, rumors\ +of preparations for leaving Moscow, all confirmed the supposition that\ +the French army was beaten and preparing for flight. But these were only\ +suppositions, which seemed important to the younger men but not to\ +Kutuzov. With his sixty years' experience he knew what value to attach\ +to rumors, knew how apt people who desire anything are to group all news\ +so that it appears to confirm what they desire, and he knew how readily\ +in such cases they omit all that makes for the contrary. And the more he\ +desired it the less he allowed himself to believe it. This question\ +absorbed all his mental powers. All else was to him only life's\ +customary routine. To such customary routine belonged his conversations\ +with the staff, the letters he wrote from Tarutino to Madame de Stael,\ +the reading of novels, the distribution of awards, his correspondence\ +with Petersburg, and so on. But the destruction of the French, which he\ +alone foresaw, was his heart's one desire.\ +\ +On the night of the eleventh of October he lay leaning on his arm and\ +thinking of that.\ +\ +There was a stir in the next room and he heard the steps of Toll,\ +Konovnitsyn, and Bolkhovitinov.\ +\ +"Eh, who's there? Come in, come in! What news?" the field marshal called\ +out to them.\ +\ +While a footman was lighting a candle, Toll communicated the substance\ +of the news.\ +\ +"Who brought it?" asked Kutuzov with a look which, when the candle was\ +lit, struck Toll by its cold severity.\ +\ +"There can be no doubt about it, your Highness."\ +\ +"Call him in, call him here."\ +\ +Kutuzov sat up with one leg hanging down from the bed and his big paunch\ +resting against the other which was doubled under him. He screwed up his\ +seeing eye to scrutinize the messenger more carefully, as if wishing to\ +read in his face what preoccupied his own mind.\ +\ +"Tell me, tell me, friend," said he to Bolkhovitinov in his low, aged\ +voice, as he pulled together the shirt which gaped open on his chest,\ +"come nearer--nearer. What news have you brought me? Eh? That Napoleon\ +has left Moscow? Are you sure? Eh?"\ +\ +Bolkhovitinov gave a detailed account from the beginning of all he had\ +been told to report.\ +\ +"Speak quicker, quicker! Don't torture me!" Kutuzov interrupted him.\ +\ +Bolkhovitinov told him everything and was then silent, awaiting\ +instructions. Toll was beginning to say something but Kutuzov checked\ +him. He tried to say something, but his face suddenly puckered and\ +wrinkled; he waved his arm at Toll and turned to the opposite side of\ +the room, to the corner darkened by the icons that hung there.\ +\ +"O Lord, my Creator, Thou has heard our prayer..." said he in a\ +tremulous voice with folded hands. "Russia is saved. I thank Thee, O\ +Lord!" and he wept.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XVIII\ +\ +From the time he received this news to the end of the campaign all\ +Kutuzov's activity was directed toward restraining his troops, by\ +authority, by guile, and by entreaty, from useless attacks, maneuvers,\ +or encounters with the perishing enemy. Dokhturov went to Malo-\ +Yaroslavets, but Kutuzov lingered with the main army and gave orders for\ +the evacuation of Kaluga--a retreat beyond which town seemed to him\ +quite possible.\ +\ +Everywhere Kutuzov retreated, but the enemy without waiting for his\ +retreat fled in the opposite direction.\ +\ +Napoleon's historians describe to us his skilled maneuvers at Tarutino\ +and Malo-Yaroslavets, and make conjectures as to what would have\ +happened had Napoleon been in time to penetrate into the rich southern\ +provinces.\ +\ +But not to speak of the fact that nothing prevented him from advancing\ +into those southern provinces (for the Russian army did not bar his\ +way), the historians forget that nothing could have saved his army, for\ +then already it bore within itself the germs of inevitable ruin. How\ +could that army--which had found abundant supplies in Moscow and had\ +trampled them underfoot instead of keeping them, and on arriving at\ +Smolensk had looted provisions instead of storing them--how could that\ +army recuperate in Kaluga province, which was inhabited by Russians such\ +as those who lived in Moscow, and where fire had the same property of\ +consuming what was set ablaze?\ +\ +That army could not recover anywhere. Since the battle of Borodino and\ +the pillage of Moscow it had borne within itself, as it were, the\ +chemical elements of dissolution.\ +\ +The members of what had once been an army--Napoleon himself and all his\ +soldiers fled--without knowing whither, each concerned only to make his\ +escape as quickly as possible from this position, of the hopelessness of\ +which they were all more or less vaguely conscious.\ +\ +So it came about that at the council at Malo-Yaroslavets, when the\ +generals pretending to confer together expressed various opinions, all\ +mouths were closed by the opinion uttered by the simple-minded soldier\ +Mouton who, speaking last, said what they all felt: that the one thing\ +needful was to get away as quickly as possible; and no one, not even\ +Napoleon, could say anything against that truth which they all\ +recognized.\ +\ +But though they all realized that it was necessary to get away, there\ +still remained a feeling of shame at admitting that they must flee. An\ +external shock was needed to overcome that shame, and this shock came in\ +due time. It was what the French called "le hourra de l'Empereur."\ +\ +The day after the council at Malo-Yaroslavets Napoleon rode out early in\ +the morning amid the lines of his army with his suite of marshals and an\ +escort, on the pretext of inspecting the army and the scene of the\ +previous and of the impending battle. Some Cossacks on the prowl for\ +booty fell in with the Emperor and very nearly captured him. If the\ +Cossacks did not capture Napoleon then, what saved him was the very\ +thing that was destroying the French army, the booty on which the\ +Cossacks fell. Here as at Tarutino they went after plunder, leaving the\ +men. Disregarding Napoleon they rushed after the plunder and Napoleon\ +managed to escape.\ +\ +When les enfants du Don might so easily have taken the Emperor himself\ +in the midst of his army, it was clear that there was nothing for it but\ +to fly as fast as possible along the nearest, familiar road. Napoleon\ +with his forty-year-old stomach understood that hint, not feeling his\ +former agility and boldness, and under the influence of the fright the\ +Cossacks had given him he at once agreed with Mouton and issued orders--\ +as the historians tell us--to retreat by the Smolensk road.\ +\ +That Napoleon agreed with Mouton, and that the army retreated, does not\ +prove that Napoleon caused it to retreat, but that the forces which\ +influenced the whole army and directed it along the Mozhaysk (that is,\ +the Smolensk) road acted simultaneously on him also.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XIX\ +\ +A man in motion always devises an aim for that motion. To be able to go\ +a thousand miles he must imagine that something good awaits him at the\ +end of those thousand miles. One must have the prospect of a promised\ +land to have the strength to move.\ +\ +The promised land for the French during their advance had been Moscow,\ +during their retreat it was their native land. But that native land was\ +too far off, and for a man going a thousand miles it is absolutely\ +necessary to set aside his final goal and to say to himself: "Today I\ +shall get to a place twenty-five miles off where I shall rest and spend\ +the night," and during the first day's journey that resting place\ +eclipses his ultimate goal and attracts all his hopes and desires. And\ +the impulses felt by a single person are always magnified in a crowd.\ +\ +For the French retreating along the old Smolensk road, the final goal--\ +their native land--was too remote, and their immediate goal was\ +Smolensk, toward which all their desires and hopes, enormously\ +intensified in the mass, urged them on. It was not that they knew that\ +much food and fresh troops awaited them in Smolensk, nor that they were\ +told so (on the contrary their superior officers, and Napoleon himself,\ +knew that provisions were scarce there), but because this alone could\ +give them strength to move on and endure their present privations. So\ +both those who knew and those who did not know deceived themselves, and\ +pushed on to Smolensk as to a promised land.\ +\ +Coming out onto the highroad the French fled with surprising energy and\ +unheard-of rapidity toward the goal they had fixed on. Besides the\ +common impulse which bound the whole crowd of French into one mass and\ +supplied them with a certain energy, there was another cause binding\ +them together--their great numbers. As with the physical law of gravity,\ +their enormous mass drew the individual human atoms to itself. In their\ +hundreds of thousands they moved like a whole nation.\ +\ +Each of them desired nothing more than to give himself up as a prisoner\ +to escape from all this horror and misery; but on the one hand the force\ +of this common attraction to Smolensk, their goal, drew each of them in\ +the same direction; on the other hand an army corps could not surrender\ +to a company, and though the French availed themselves of every\ +convenient opportunity to detach themselves and to surrender on the\ +slightest decent pretext, such pretexts did not always occur. Their very\ +numbers and their crowded and swift movement deprived them of that\ +possibility and rendered it not only difficult but impossible for the\ +Russians to stop this movement, to which the French were directing all\ +their energies. Beyond a certain limit no mechanical disruption of the\ +body could hasten the process of decomposition.\ +\ +A lump of snow cannot be melted instantaneously. There is a certain\ +limit of time in less than which no amount of heat can melt the snow. On\ +the contrary the greater the heat the more solidified the remaining snow\ +becomes.\ +\ +Of the Russian commanders Kutuzov alone understood this. When the flight\ +of the French army along the Smolensk road became well defined, what\ +Konovnitsyn had foreseen on the night of the eleventh of October began\ +to occur. The superior officers all wanted to distinguish themselves, to\ +cut off, to seize, to capture, and to overthrow the French, and all\ +clamored for action.\ +\ +Kutuzov alone used all his power (and such power is very limited in the\ +case of any commander-in-chief) to prevent an attack.\ +\ +He could not tell them what we say now: "Why fight, why block the road,\ +losing our own men and inhumanly slaughtering unfortunate wretches? What\ +is the use of that, when a third of their army has melted away on the\ +road from Moscow to Vyazma without any battle?" But drawing from his\ +aged wisdom what they could understand, he told them of the golden\ +bridge, and they laughed at and slandered him, flinging themselves on,\ +rending and exulting over the dying beast.\ +\ +Ermolov, Miloradovich, Platov, and others in proximity to the French\ +near Vyazma could not resist their desire to cut off and break up two\ +French corps, and by way of reporting their intention to Kutuzov they\ +sent him a blank sheet of paper in an envelope.\ +\ +And try as Kutuzov might to restrain the troops, our men attacked,\ +trying to bar the road. Infantry regiments, we are told, advanced to the\ +attack with music and with drums beating, and killed and lost thousands\ +of men.\ +\ +But they did not cut off or overthrow anybody and the French army,\ +closing up more firmly at the danger, continued, while steadily melting\ +away, to pursue its fatal path to Smolensk.\ +\ +BOOK FOURTEEN: 1812\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER I\ +\ +The Battle of Borodino, with the occupation of Moscow that followed it\ +and the flight of the French without further conflicts, is one of the\ +most instructive phenomena in history.\ +\ +All historians agree that the external activity of states and nations in\ +their conflicts with one another is expressed in wars, and that as a\ +direct result of greater or less success in war the political strength\ +of states and nations increases or decreases.\ +\ +Strange as may be the historical account of how some king or emperor,\ +having quarreled with another, collects an army, fights his enemy's\ +army, gains a victory by killing three, five, or ten thousand men, and\ +subjugates a kingdom and an entire nation of several millions, all the\ +facts of history (as far as we know it) confirm the truth of the\ +statement that the greater or lesser success of one army against another\ +is the cause, or at least an essential indication, of an increase or\ +decrease in the strength of the nation--even though it is unintelligible\ +why the defeat of an army--a hundredth part of a nation--should oblige\ +that whole nation to submit. An army gains a victory, and at once the\ +rights of the conquering nation have increased to the detriment of the\ +defeated. An army has suffered defeat, and at once a people loses its\ +rights in proportion to the severity of the reverse, and if its army\ +suffers a complete defeat the nation is quite subjugated.\ +\ +So according to history it has been found from the most ancient times,\ +and so it is to our own day. All Napoleon's wars serve to confirm this\ +rule. In proportion to the defeat of the Austrian army Austria loses its\ +rights, and the rights and the strength of France increase. The\ +victories of the French at Jena and Auerstadt destroy the independent\ +existence of Prussia.\ +\ +But then, in 1812, the French gain a victory near Moscow. Moscow is\ +taken and after that, with no further battles, it is not Russia that\ +ceases to exist, but the French army of six hundred thousand, and then\ +Napoleonic France itself. To strain the facts to fit the rules of\ +history: to say that the field of battle at Borodino remained in the\ +hands of the Russians, or that after Moscow there were other battles\ +that destroyed Napoleon's army, is impossible.\ +\ +After the French victory at Borodino there was no general engagement nor\ +any that were at all serious, yet the French army ceased to exist. What\ +does this mean? If it were an example taken from the history of China,\ +we might say that it was not an historic phenomenon (which is the\ +historians' usual expedient when anything does not fit their standards);\ +if the matter concerned some brief conflict in which only a small number\ +of troops took part, we might treat it as an exception; but this event\ +occurred before our fathers' eyes, and for them it was a question of the\ +life or death of their fatherland, and it happened in the greatest of\ +all known wars.\ +\ +The period of the campaign of 1812 from the battle of Borodino to the\ +expulsion of the French proved that the winning of a battle does not\ +produce a conquest and is not even an invariable indication of conquest;\ +it proved that the force which decides the fate of peoples lies not in\ +the conquerors, nor even in armies and battles, but in something else.\ +\ +The French historians, describing the condition of the French army\ +before it left Moscow, affirm that all was in order in the Grand Army,\ +except the cavalry, the artillery, and the transport--there was no\ +forage for the horses or the cattle. That was a misfortune no one could\ +remedy, for the peasants of the district burned their hay rather than\ +let the French have it.\ +\ +The victory gained did not bring the usual results because the peasants\ +Karp and Vlas (who after the French had evacuated Moscow drove in their\ +carts to pillage the town, and in general personally failed to manifest\ +any heroic feelings), and the whole innumerable multitude of such\ +peasants, did not bring their hay to Moscow for the high price offered\ +them, but burned it instead.\ +\ +Let us imagine two men who have come out to fight a duel with rapiers\ +according to all the rules of the art of fencing. The fencing has gone\ +on for some time; suddenly one of the combatants, feeling himself\ +wounded and understanding that the matter is no joke but concerns his\ +life, throws down his rapier, and seizing the first cudgel that comes to\ +hand begins to brandish it. Then let us imagine that the combatant who\ +so sensibly employed the best and simplest means to attain his end was\ +at the same time influenced by traditions of chivalry and, desiring to\ +conceal the facts of the case, insisted that he had gained his victory\ +with the rapier according to all the rules of art. One can imagine what\ +confusion and obscurity would result from such an account of the duel.\ +\ +The fencer who demanded a contest according to the rules of fencing was\ +the French army; his opponent who threw away the rapier and snatched up\ +the cudgel was the Russian people; those who try to explain the matter\ +according to the rules of fencing are the historians who have described\ +the event.\ +\ +After the burning of Smolensk a war began which did not follow any\ +previous traditions of war. The burning of towns and villages, the\ +retreats after battles, the blow dealt at Borodino and the renewed\ +retreat, the burning of Moscow, the capture of marauders, the seizure of\ +transports, and the guerrilla war were all departures from the rules.\ +\ +Napoleon felt this, and from the time he took up the correct fencing\ +attitude in Moscow and instead of his opponent's rapier saw a cudgel\ +raised above his head, he did not cease to complain to Kutuzov and to\ +the Emperor Alexander that the war was being carried on contrary to all\ +the rules--as if there were any rules for killing people. In spite of\ +the complaints of the French as to the nonobservance of the rules, in\ +spite of the fact that to some highly placed Russians it seemed rather\ +disgraceful to fight with a cudgel and they wanted to assume a pose en\ +quarte or en tierce according to all the rules, and to make an adroit\ +thrust en prime, and so on--the cudgel of the people's war was lifted\ +with all its menacing and majestic strength, and without consulting\ +anyone's tastes or rules and regardless of anything else, it rose and\ +fell with stupid simplicity, but consistently, and belabored the French\ +till the whole invasion had perished.\ +\ +And it is well for a people who do not--as the French did in 1813--\ +salute according to all the rules of art, and, presenting the hilt of\ +their rapier gracefully and politely, hand it to their magnanimous\ +conqueror, but at the moment of trial, without asking what rules others\ +have adopted in similar cases, simply and easily pick up the first\ +cudgel that comes to hand and strike with it till the feeling of\ +resentment and revenge in their soul yields to a feeling of contempt and\ +compassion.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER II\ +\ +One of the most obvious and advantageous departures from the so-called\ +laws of war is the action of scattered groups against men pressed\ +together in a mass. Such action always occurs in wars that take on a\ +national character. In such actions, instead of two crowds opposing each\ +other, the men disperse, attack singly, run away when attacked by\ +stronger forces, but again attack when opportunity offers. This was done\ +by the guerrillas in Spain, by the mountain tribes in the Caucasus, and\ +by the Russians in 1812.\ +\ +People have called this kind of war "guerrilla warfare" and assume that\ +by so calling it they have explained its meaning. But such a war does\ +not fit in under any rule and is directly opposed to a well-known rule\ +of tactics which is accepted as infallible. That rule says that an\ +attacker should concentrate his forces in order to be stronger than his\ +opponent at the moment of conflict.\ +\ +Guerrilla war (always successful, as history shows) directly infringes\ +that rule.\ +\ +This contradiction arises from the fact that military science assumes\ +the strength of an army to be identical with its numbers. Military\ +science says that the more troops the greater the strength. Les gros\ +bataillons ont toujours raison. *\ +\ +\ +* Large battalions are always victorious.\ +\ +For military science to say this is like defining momentum in mechanics\ +by reference to the mass only: stating that momenta are equal or unequal\ +to each other simply because the masses involved are equal or unequal.\ +\ +Momentum (quantity of motion) is the product of mass and velocity.\ +\ +In military affairs the strength of an army is the product of its mass\ +and some unknown x.\ +\ +Military science, seeing in history innumerable instances of the fact\ +that the size of any army does not coincide with its strength and that\ +small detachments defeat larger ones, obscurely admits the existence of\ +this unknown factor and tries to discover it--now in a geometric\ +formation, now in the equipment employed, now, and most usually, in the\ +genius of the commanders. But the assignment of these various meanings\ +to the factor does not yield results which accord with the historic\ +facts.\ +\ +Yet it is only necessary to abandon the false view (adopted to gratify\ +the "heroes") of the efficacy of the directions issued in wartime by\ +commanders, in order to find this unknown quantity.\ +\ +That unknown quantity is the spirit of the army, that is to say, the\ +greater or lesser readiness to fight and face danger felt by all the men\ +composing an army, quite independently of whether they are, or are not,\ +fighting under the command of a genius, in two--or three-line formation,\ +with cudgels or with rifles that repeat thirty times a minute. Men who\ +want to fight will always put themselves in the most advantageous\ +conditions for fighting.\ +\ +The spirit of an army is the factor which multiplied by the mass gives\ +the resulting force. To define and express the significance of this\ +unknown factor--the spirit of an army--is a problem for science.\ +\ +This problem is only solvable if we cease arbitrarily to substitute for\ +the unknown x itself the conditions under which that force becomes\ +apparent--such as the commands of the general, the equipment employed,\ +and so on--mistaking these for the real significance of the factor, and\ +if we recognize this unknown quantity in its entirety as being the\ +greater or lesser desire to fight and to face danger. Only then,\ +expressing known historic facts by equations and comparing the relative\ +significance of this factor, can we hope to define the unknown.\ +\ +Ten men, battalions, or divisions, fighting fifteen men, battalions, or\ +divisions, conquer--that is, kill or take captive--all the others, while\ +themselves losing four, so that on the one side four and on the other\ +fifteen were lost. Consequently the four were equal to the fifteen, and\ +therefore 4x = 15y. Consequently x/y = 15/4. This equation does not give\ +us the value of the unknown factor but gives us a ratio between two\ +unknowns. And by bringing variously selected historic units (battles,\ +campaigns, periods of war) into such equations, a series of numbers\ +could be obtained in which certain laws should exist and might be\ +discovered.\ +\ +The tactical rule that an army should act in masses when attacking, and\ +in smaller groups in retreat, unconsciously confirms the truth that the\ +strength of an army depends on its spirit. To lead men forward under\ +fire more discipline (obtainable only by movement in masses) is needed\ +than is needed to resist attacks. But this rule which leaves out of\ +account the spirit of the army continually proves incorrect and is in\ +particularly striking contrast to the facts when some strong rise or\ +fall in the spirit of the troops occurs, as in all national wars.\ +\ +The French, retreating in 1812--though according to tactics they should\ +have separated into detachments to defend themselves--congregated into a\ +mass because the spirit of the army had so fallen that only the mass\ +held the army together. The Russians, on the contrary, ought according\ +to tactics to have attacked in mass, but in fact they split up into\ +small units, because their spirit had so risen that separate\ +individuals, without orders, dealt blows at the French without needing\ +any compulsion to induce them to expose themselves to hardships and\ +dangers.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER III\ +\ +The so-called partisan war began with the entry of the French into\ +Smolensk.\ +\ +Before partisan warfare had been officially recognized by the\ +government, thousands of enemy stragglers, marauders, and foragers had\ +been destroyed by the Cossacks and the peasants, who killed them off as\ +instinctively as dogs worry a stray mad dog to death. Denis Davydov,\ +with his Russian instinct, was the first to recognize the value of this\ +terrible cudgel which regardless of the rules of military science\ +destroyed the French, and to him belongs the credit for taking the first\ +step toward regularizing this method of warfare.\ +\ +On August 24 Davydov's first partisan detachment was formed and then\ +others were recognized. The further the campaign progressed the more\ +numerous these detachments became.\ +\ +The irregulars destroyed the great army piecemeal. They gathered the\ +fallen leaves that dropped of themselves from that withered tree--the\ +French army--and sometimes shook that tree itself. By October, when the\ +French were fleeing toward Smolensk, there were hundreds of such\ +companies, of various sizes and characters. There were some that adopted\ +all the army methods and had infantry, artillery, staffs, and the\ +comforts of life. Others consisted solely of Cossack cavalry. There were\ +also small scratch groups of foot and horse, and groups of peasants and\ +landowners that remained unknown. A sacristan commanded one party which\ +captured several hundred prisoners in the course of a month; and there\ +was Vasilisa, the wife of a village elder, who slew hundreds of the\ +French.\ +\ +The partisan warfare flamed up most fiercely in the latter days of\ +October. Its first period had passed: when the partisans themselves,\ +amazed at their own boldness, feared every minute to be surrounded and\ +captured by the French, and hid in the forests without unsaddling,\ +hardly daring to dismount and always expecting to be pursued. By the end\ +of October this kind of warfare had taken definite shape: it had become\ +clear to all what could be ventured against the French and what could\ +not. Now only the commanders of detachments with staffs, and moving\ +according to rules at a distance from the French, still regarded many\ +things as impossible. The small bands that had started their activities\ +long before and had already observed the French closely considered\ +things possible which the commanders of the big detachments did not dare\ +to contemplate. The Cossacks and peasants who crept in among the French\ +now considered everything possible.\ +\ +On October 22, Denisov (who was one of the irregulars) was with his\ +group at the height of the guerrilla enthusiasm. Since early morning he\ +and his party had been on the move. All day long he had been watching\ +from the forest that skirted the highroad a large French convoy of\ +cavalry baggage and Russian prisoners separated from the rest of the\ +army, which--as was learned from spies and prisoners--was moving under a\ +strong escort to Smolensk. Besides Denisov and Dolokhov (who also led a\ +small party and moved in Denisov's vicinity), the commanders of some\ +large divisions with staffs also knew of this convoy and, as Denisov\ +expressed it, were sharpening their teeth for it. Two of the commanders\ +of large parties--one a Pole and the other a German--sent invitations to\ +Denisov almost simultaneously, requesting him to join up with their\ +divisions to attack the convoy.\ +\ +"No, bwother, I have gwown mustaches myself," said Denisov on reading\ +these documents, and he wrote to the German that, despite his heartfelt\ +desire to serve under so valiant and renowned a general, he had to forgo\ +that pleasure because he was already under the command of the Polish\ +general. To the Polish general he replied to the same effect, informing\ +him that he was already under the command of the German.\ +\ +Having arranged matters thus, Denisov and Dolokhov intended, without\ +reporting matters to the higher command, to attack and seize that convoy\ +with their own small forces. On October 22 it was moving from the\ +village of Mikulino to that of Shamshevo. To the left of the road\ +between Mikulino and Shamshevo there were large forests, extending in\ +some places up to the road itself though in others a mile or more back\ +from it. Through these forests Denisov and his party rode all day,\ +sometimes keeping well back in them and sometimes coming to the very\ +edge, but never losing sight of the moving French. That morning,\ +Cossacks of Denisov's party had seized and carried off into the forest\ +two wagons loaded with cavalry saddles, which had stuck in the mud not\ +far from Mikulino where the forest ran close to the road. Since then,\ +and until evening, the party had watched the movements of the French\ +without attacking. It was necessary to let the French reach Shamshevo\ +quietly without alarming them and then, after joining Dolokhov who was\ +to come that evening to a consultation at a watchman's hut in the forest\ +less than a mile from Shamshevo, to surprise the French at dawn, falling\ +like an avalanche on their heads from two sides, and rout and capture\ +them all at one blow.\ +\ +In their rear, more than a mile from Mikulino where the forest came\ +right up to the road, six Cossacks were posted to report if any fresh\ +columns of French should show themselves.\ +\ +Beyond Shamshevo, Dolokhov was to observe the road in the same way, to\ +find out at what distance there were other French troops. They reckoned\ +that the convoy had fifteen hundred men. Denisov had two hundred, and\ +Dolokhov might have as many more, but the disparity of numbers did not\ +deter Denisov. All that he now wanted to know was what troops these were\ +and to learn that he had to capture a "tongue"--that is, a man from the\ +enemy column. That morning's attack on the wagons had been made so\ +hastily that the Frenchmen with the wagons had all been killed; only a\ +little drummer boy had been taken alive, and as he was a straggler he\ +could tell them nothing definite about the troops in that column.\ +\ +Denisov considered it dangerous to make a second attack for fear of\ +putting the whole column on the alert, so he sent Tikhon Shcherbaty, a\ +peasant of his party, to Shamshevo to try and seize at least one of the\ +French quartermasters who had been sent on in advance.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER IV\ +\ +It was a warm rainy autumn day. The sky and the horizon were both the\ +color of muddy water. At times a sort of mist descended, and then\ +suddenly heavy slanting rain came down.\ +\ +Denisov in a felt cloak and a sheepskin cap from which the rain ran down\ +was riding a thin thoroughbred horse with sunken sides. Like his horse,\ +which turned its head and laid its ears back, he shrank from the driving\ +rain and gazed anxiously before him. His thin face with its short, thick\ +black beard looked angry.\ +\ +Beside Denisov rode an esaul, * Denisov's fellow worker, also in felt\ +cloak and sheepskin cap, and riding a large sleek Don horse.\ +\ +\ +* A captain of Cossacks.\ +\ +Esaul Lovayski the Third was a tall man as straight as an arrow, pale-\ +faced, fair-haired, with narrow light eyes and with calm self-\ +satisfaction in his face and bearing. Though it was impossible to say in\ +what the peculiarity of the horse and rider lay, yet at first glance at\ +the esaul and Denisov one saw that the latter was wet and uncomfortable\ +and was a man mounted on a horse, while looking at the esaul one saw\ +that he was as comfortable and as much at ease as always and that he was\ +not a man who had mounted a horse, but a man who was one with his horse,\ +a being consequently possessed of twofold strength.\ +\ +A little ahead of them walked a peasant guide, wet to the skin and\ +wearing a gray peasant coat and a white knitted cap.\ +\ +A little behind, on a poor, small, lean Kirghiz mount with an enormous\ +tail and mane and a bleeding mouth, rode a young officer in a blue\ +French overcoat.\ +\ +Beside him rode an hussar, with a boy in a tattered French uniform and\ +blue cap behind him on the crupper of his horse. The boy held on to the\ +hussar with cold, red hands, and raising his eyebrows gazed about him\ +with surprise. This was the French drummer boy captured that morning.\ +\ +Behind them along the narrow, sodden, cutup forest road came hussars in\ +threes and fours, and then Cossacks: some in felt cloaks, some in French\ +greatcoats, and some with horsecloths over their heads. The horses,\ +being drenched by the rain, all looked black whether chestnut or bay.\ +Their necks, with their wet, close-clinging manes, looked strangely\ +thin. Steam rose from them. Clothes, saddles, reins, were all wet,\ +slippery, and sodden, like the ground and the fallen leaves that strewed\ +the road. The men sat huddled up trying not to stir, so as to warm the\ +water that had trickled to their bodies and not admit the fresh cold\ +water that was leaking in under their seats, their knees, and at the\ +back of their necks. In the midst of the outspread line of Cossacks two\ +wagons, drawn by French horses and by saddled Cossack horses that had\ +been hitched on in front, rumbled over the tree stumps and branches and\ +splashed through the water that lay in the ruts.\ +\ +Denisov's horse swerved aside to avoid a pool in the track and bumped\ +his rider's knee against a tree.\ +\ +"Oh, the devil!" exclaimed Denisov angrily, and showing his teeth he\ +struck his horse three times with his whip, splashing himself and his\ +comrades with mud.\ +\ +Denisov was out of sorts both because of the rain and also from hunger\ +(none of them had eaten anything since morning), and yet more because he\ +still had no news from Dolokhov and the man sent to capture a "tongue"\ +had not returned.\ +\ +"There'll hardly be another such chance to fall on a transport as today.\ +It's too risky to attack them by oneself, and if we put it off till\ +another day one of the big guerrilla detachments will snatch the prey\ +from under our noses," thought Denisov, continually peering forward,\ +hoping to see a messenger from Dolokhov.\ +\ +On coming to a path in the forest along which he could see far to the\ +right, Denisov stopped.\ +\ +"There's someone coming," said he.\ +\ +The esaul looked in the direction Denisov indicated.\ +\ +"There are two, an officer and a Cossack. But it is not presupposable\ +that it is the lieutenant colonel himself," said the esaul, who was fond\ +of using words the Cossacks did not know.\ +\ +The approaching riders having descended a decline were no longer\ +visible, but they reappeared a few minutes later. In front, at a weary\ +gallop and using his leather whip, rode an officer, disheveled and\ +drenched, whose trousers had worked up to above his knees. Behind him,\ +standing in the stirrups, trotted a Cossack. The officer, a very young\ +lad with a broad rosy face and keen merry eyes, galloped up to Denisov\ +and handed him a sodden envelope.\ +\ +"From the general," said the officer. "Please excuse its not being quite\ +dry."\ +\ +Denisov, frowning, took the envelope and opened it.\ +\ +"There, they kept telling us: 'It's dangerous, it's dangerous,'" said\ +the officer, addressing the esaul while Denisov was reading the\ +dispatch. "But Komarov and I"--he pointed to the Cossack--"were\ +prepared. We have each of us two pistols.... But what's this?" he asked,\ +noticing the French drummer boy. "A prisoner? You've already been in\ +action? May I speak to him?"\ +\ +"Wostov! Petya!" exclaimed Denisov, having run through the dispatch.\ +"Why didn't you say who you were?" and turning with a smile he held out\ +his hand to the lad.\ +\ +The officer was Petya Rostov.\ +\ +All the way Petya had been preparing himself to behave with Denisov as\ +befitted a grownup man and an officer--without hinting at their previous\ +acquaintance. But as soon as Denisov smiled at him Petya brightened up,\ +blushed with pleasure, forgot the official manner he had been\ +rehearsing, and began telling him how he had already been in a battle\ +near Vyazma and how a certain hussar had distinguished himself there.\ +\ +"Well, I am glad to see you," Denisov interrupted him, and his face\ +again assumed its anxious expression.\ +\ +"Michael Feoklitych," said he to the esaul, "this is again fwom that\ +German, you know. He"--he indicated Petya--"is serving under him."\ +\ +And Denisov told the esaul that the dispatch just delivered was a\ +repetition of the German general's demand that he should join forces\ +with him for an attack on the transport.\ +\ +"If we don't take it tomowwow, he'll snatch it fwom under our noses," he\ +added.\ +\ +While Denisov was talking to the esaul, Petya--abashed by Denisov's cold\ +tone and supposing that it was due to the condition of his trousers--\ +furtively tried to pull them down under his greatcoat so that no one\ +should notice it, while maintaining as martial an air as possible.\ +\ +"Will there be any orders, your honor?" he asked Denisov, holding his\ +hand at the salute and resuming the game of adjutant and general for\ +which he had prepared himself, "or shall I remain with your honor?"\ +\ +"Orders?" Denisov repeated thoughtfully. "But can you stay till\ +tomowwow?"\ +\ +"Oh, please... May I stay with you?" cried Petya.\ +\ +"But, just what did the genewal tell you? To weturn at once?" asked\ +Denisov.\ +\ +Petya blushed.\ +\ +"He gave me no instructions. I think I could?" he returned, inquiringly.\ +\ +"Well, all wight," said Denisov.\ +\ +And turning to his men he directed a party to go on to the halting place\ +arranged near the watchman's hut in the forest, and told the officer on\ +the Kirghiz horse (who performed the duties of an adjutant) to go and\ +find out where Dolokhov was and whether he would come that evening.\ +Denisov himself intended going with the esaul and Petya to the edge of\ +the forest where it reached out to Shamshevo, to have a look at the part\ +of the French bivouac they were to attack next day.\ +\ +"Well, old fellow," said he to the peasant guide, "lead us to\ +Shamshevo."\ +\ +Denisov, Petya, and the esaul, accompanied by some Cossacks and the\ +hussar who had the prisoner, rode to the left across a ravine to the\ +edge of the forest.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER V\ +\ +The rain had stopped, and only the mist was falling and drops from the\ +trees. Denisov, the esaul, and Petya rode silently, following the\ +peasant in the knitted cap who, stepping lightly with outturned toes and\ +moving noiselessly in his bast shoes over the roots and wet leaves,\ +silently led them to the edge of the forest.\ +\ +He ascended an incline, stopped, looked about him, and advanced to where\ +the screen of trees was less dense. On reaching a large oak tree that\ +had not yet shed its leaves, he stopped and beckoned mysteriously to\ +them with his hand.\ +\ +Denisov and Petya rode up to him. From the spot where the peasant was\ +standing they could see the French. Immediately beyond the forest, on a\ +downward slope, lay a field of spring rye. To the right, beyond a steep\ +ravine, was a small village and a landowner's house with a broken roof.\ +In the village, in the house, in the garden, by the well, by the pond,\ +over all the rising ground, and all along the road uphill from the\ +bridge leading to the village, not more than five hundred yards away,\ +crowds of men could be seen through the shimmering mist. Their un-\ +Russian shouting at their horses which were straining uphill with the\ +carts, and their calls to one another, could be clearly heard.\ +\ +"Bwing the prisoner here," said Denisov in a low voice, not taking his\ +eyes off the French.\ +\ +A Cossack dismounted, lifted the boy down, and took him to Denisov.\ +Pointing to the French troops, Denisov asked him what these and those of\ +them were. The boy, thrusting his cold hands into his pockets and\ +lifting his eyebrows, looked at Denisov in affright, but in spite of an\ +evident desire to say all he knew gave confused answers, merely\ +assenting to everything Denisov asked him. Denisov turned away from him\ +frowning and addressed the esaul, conveying his own conjectures to him.\ +\ +Petya, rapidly turning his head, looked now at the drummer boy, now at\ +Denisov, now at the esaul, and now at the French in the village and\ +along the road, trying not to miss anything of importance.\ +\ +"Whether Dolokhov comes or not, we must seize it, eh?" said Denisov with\ +a merry sparkle in his eyes.\ +\ +"It is a very suitable spot," said the esaul.\ +\ +"We'll send the infantwy down by the swamps," Denisov continued.\ +"They'll cweep up to the garden; you'll wide up fwom there with the\ +Cossacks"--he pointed to a spot in the forest beyond the village--"and I\ +with my hussars fwom here. And at the signal shot..."\ +\ +"The hollow is impassable--there's a swamp there," said the esaul. "The\ +horses would sink. We must ride round more to the left...."\ +\ +While they were talking in undertones the crack of a shot sounded from\ +the low ground by the pond, a puff of white smoke appeared, then\ +another, and the sound of hundreds of seemingly merry French voices\ +shouting together came up from the slope. For a moment Denisov and the\ +esaul drew back. They were so near that they thought they were the cause\ +of the firing and shouting. But the firing and shouting did not relate\ +to them. Down below, a man wearing something red was running through the\ +marsh. The French were evidently firing and shouting at him.\ +\ +"Why, that's our Tikhon," said the esaul.\ +\ +"So it is! It is!"\ +\ +"The wascal!" said Denisov.\ +\ +"He'll get away!" said the esaul, screwing up his eyes.\ +\ +The man whom they called Tikhon, having run to the stream, plunged in so\ +that the water splashed in the air, and, having disappeared for an\ +instant, scrambled out on all fours, all black with the wet, and ran on.\ +The French who had been pursuing him stopped.\ +\ +"Smart, that!" said the esaul.\ +\ +"What a beast!" said Denisov with his former look of vexation. "What has\ +he been doing all this time?"\ +\ +"Who is he?" asked Petya.\ +\ +"He's our plastun. I sent him to capture a 'tongue.'"\ +\ +"Oh, yes," said Petya, nodding at the first words Denisov uttered as if\ +he understood it all, though he really did not understand anything of\ +it.\ +\ +Tikhon Shcherbaty was one of the most indispensable men in their band.\ +He was a peasant from Pokrovsk, near the river Gzhat. When Denisov had\ +come to Pokrovsk at the beginning of his operations and had as usual\ +summoned the village elder and asked him what he knew about the French,\ +the elder, as though shielding himself, had replied, as all village\ +elders did, that he had neither seen nor heard anything of them. But\ +when Denisov explained that his purpose was to kill the French, and\ +asked if no French had strayed that way, the elder replied that some\ +"more-orderers" had really been at their village, but that Tikhon\ +Shcherbaty was the only man who dealt with such matters. Denisov had\ +Tikhon called and, having praised him for his activity, said a few words\ +in the elder's presence about loyalty to the Tsar and the country and\ +the hatred of the French that all sons of the fatherland should cherish.\ +\ +"We don't do the French any harm," said Tikhon, evidently frightened by\ +Denisov's words. "We only fooled about with the lads for fun, you know!\ +We killed a score or so of 'more-orderers,' but we did no harm else..."\ +\ +Next day when Denisov had left Pokrovsk, having quite forgotten about\ +this peasant, it was reported to him that Tikhon had attached himself to\ +their party and asked to be allowed to remain with it. Denisov gave\ +orders to let him do so.\ +\ +Tikhon, who at first did rough work, laying campfires, fetching water,\ +flaying dead horses, and so on, soon showed a great liking and aptitude\ +for partisan warfare. At night he would go out for booty and always\ +brought back French clothing and weapons, and when told to would bring\ +in French captives also. Denisov then relieved him from drudgery and\ +began taking him with him when he went out on expeditions and had him\ +enrolled among the Cossacks.\ +\ +Tikhon did not like riding, and always went on foot, never lagging\ +behind the cavalry. He was armed with a musketoon (which he carried\ +rather as a joke), a pike and an ax, which latter he used as a wolf uses\ +its teeth, with equal ease picking fleas out of its fur or crunching\ +thick bones. Tikhon with equal accuracy would split logs with blows at\ +arm's length, or holding the head of the ax would cut thin little pegs\ +or carve spoons. In Denisov's party he held a peculiar and exceptional\ +position. When anything particularly difficult or nasty had to be done--\ +to push a cart out of the mud with one's shoulders, pull a horse out of\ +a swamp by its tail, skin it, slink in among the French, or walk more\ +than thirty miles in a day--everybody pointed laughingly at Tikhon.\ +\ +"It won't hurt that devil--he's as strong as a horse!" they said of him.\ +\ +Once a Frenchman Tikhon was trying to capture fired a pistol at him and\ +shot him in the fleshy part of the back. That wound (which Tikhon\ +treated only with internal and external applications of vodka) was the\ +subject of the liveliest jokes by the whole detachment--jokes in which\ +Tikhon readily joined.\ +\ +"Hallo, mate! Never again? Gave you a twist?" the Cossacks would banter\ +him. And Tikhon, purposely writhing and making faces, pretended to be\ +angry and swore at the French with the funniest curses. The only effect\ +of this incident on Tikhon was that after being wounded he seldom\ +brought in prisoners.\ +\ +He was the bravest and most useful man in the party. No one found more\ +opportunities for attacking, no one captured or killed more Frenchmen,\ +and consequently he was made the buffoon of all the Cossacks and hussars\ +and willingly accepted that role. Now he had been sent by Denisov\ +overnight to Shamshevo to capture a "tongue." But whether because he had\ +not been content to take only one Frenchman or because he had slept\ +through the night, he had crept by day into some bushes right among the\ +French and, as Denisov had witnessed from above, had been detected by\ +them.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER VI\ +\ +After talking for some time with the esaul about next day's attack,\ +which now, seeing how near they were to the French, he seemed to have\ +definitely decided on, Denisov turned his horse and rode back.\ +\ +"Now, my lad, we'll go and get dwy," he said to Petya.\ +\ +As they approached the watchhouse Denisov stopped, peering into the\ +forest. Among the trees a man with long legs and long, swinging arms,\ +wearing a short jacket, bast shoes, and a Kazan hat, was approaching\ +with long, light steps. He had a musketoon over his shoulder and an ax\ +stuck in his girdle. When he espied Denisov he hastily threw something\ +into the bushes, removed his sodden hat by its floppy brim, and\ +approached his commander. It was Tikhon. His wrinkled and pockmarked\ +face and narrow little eyes beamed with self-satisfied merriment. He\ +lifted his head high and gazed at Denisov as if repressing a laugh.\ +\ +"Well, where did you disappear to?" inquired Denisov.\ +\ +"Where did I disappear to? I went to get Frenchmen," answered Tikhon\ +boldly and hurriedly, in a husky but melodious bass voice.\ +\ +"Why did you push yourself in there by daylight? You ass! Well, why\ +haven't you taken one?"\ +\ +"Oh, I took one all right," said Tikhon.\ +\ +"Where is he?"\ +\ +"You see, I took him first thing at dawn," Tikhon continued, spreading\ +out his flat feet with outturned toes in their bast shoes. "I took him\ +into the forest. Then I see he's no good and think I'll go and fetch a\ +likelier one."\ +\ +"You see?... What a wogue--it's just as I thought," said Denisov to the\ +esaul. "Why didn't you bwing that one?"\ +\ +"What was the good of bringing him?" Tikhon interrupted hastily and\ +angrily--"that one wouldn't have done for you. As if I don't know what\ +sort you want!"\ +\ +"What a bwute you are!... Well?"\ +\ +"I went for another one," Tikhon continued, "and I crept like this\ +through the wood and lay down." (He suddenly lay down on his stomach\ +with a supple movement to show how he had done it.) "One turned up and I\ +grabbed him, like this." (He jumped up quickly and lightly.) "'Come\ +along to the colonel,' I said. He starts yelling, and suddenly there\ +were four of them. They rushed at me with their little swords. So I went\ +for them with my ax, this way: 'What are you up to?' says I. 'Christ be\ +with you!'" shouted Tikhon, waving his arms with an angry scowl and\ +throwing out his chest.\ +\ +"Yes, we saw from the hill how you took to your heels through the\ +puddles!" said the esaul, screwing up his glittering eyes.\ +\ +Petya badly wanted to laugh, but noticed that they all refrained from\ +laughing. He turned his eyes rapidly from Tikhon's face to the esaul's\ +and Denisov's, unable to make out what it all meant.\ +\ +"Don't play the fool!" said Denisov, coughing angrily. "Why didn't you\ +bwing the first one?"\ +\ +Tikhon scratched his back with one hand and his head with the other,\ +then suddenly his whole face expanded into a beaming, foolish grin,\ +disclosing a gap where he had lost a tooth (that was why he was called\ +Shcherbaty--the gap-toothed). Denisov smiled, and Petya burst into a\ +peal of merry laughter in which Tikhon himself joined.\ +\ +"Oh, but he was a regular good-for-nothing," said Tikhon. "The clothes\ +on him--poor stuff! How could I bring him? And so rude, your honor! Why,\ +he says: 'I'm a general's son myself, I won't go!' he says."\ +\ +"You are a bwute!" said Denisov. "I wanted to question..."\ +\ +"But I questioned him," said Tikhon. "He said he didn't know much.\ +'There are a lot of us,' he says, 'but all poor stuff--only soldiers in\ +name,' he says. 'Shout loud at them,' he says, 'and you'll take them\ +all,'" Tikhon concluded, looking cheerfully and resolutely into\ +Denisov's eyes.\ +\ +"I'll give you a hundwed sharp lashes--that'll teach you to play the\ +fool!" said Denisov severely.\ +\ +"But why are you angry?" remonstrated Tikhon, "just as if I'd never seen\ +your Frenchmen! Only wait till it gets dark and I'll fetch you any of\ +them you want--three if you like."\ +\ +"Well, let's go," said Denisov, and rode all the way to the watchhouse\ +in silence and frowning angrily.\ +\ +Tikhon followed behind and Petya heard the Cossacks laughing with him\ +and at him, about some pair of boots he had thrown into the bushes.\ +\ +When the fit of laughter that had seized him at Tikhon's words and smile\ +had passed and Petya realized for a moment that this Tikhon had killed a\ +man, he felt uneasy. He looked round at the captive drummer boy and felt\ +a pang in his heart. But this uneasiness lasted only a moment. He felt\ +it necessary to hold his head higher, to brace himself, and to question\ +the esaul with an air of importance about tomorrow's undertaking, that\ +he might not be unworthy of the company in which he found himself.\ +\ +The officer who had been sent to inquire met Denisov on the way with the\ +news that Dolokhov was soon coming and that all was well with him.\ +\ +Denisov at once cheered up and, calling Petya to him, said: "Well, tell\ +me about yourself."\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER VII\ +\ +Petya, having left his people after their departure from Moscow, joined\ +his regiment and was soon taken as orderly by a general commanding a\ +large guerrilla detachment. From the time he received his commission,\ +and especially since he had joined the active army and taken part in the\ +battle of Vyazma, Petya had been in a constant state of blissful\ +excitement at being grown-up and in a perpetual ecstatic hurry not to\ +miss any chance to do something really heroic. He was highly delighted\ +with what he saw and experienced in the army, but at the same time it\ +always seemed to him that the really heroic exploits were being\ +performed just where he did not happen to be. And he was always in a\ +hurry to get where he was not.\ +\ +When on the twenty-first of October his general expressed a wish to send\ +somebody to Denisov's detachment, Petya begged so piteously to be sent\ +that the general could not refuse. But when dispatching him he recalled\ +Petya's mad action at the battle of Vyazma, where instead of riding by\ +the road to the place to which he had been sent, he had galloped to the\ +advanced line under the fire of the French and had there twice fired his\ +pistol. So now the general explicitly forbade his taking part in any\ +action whatever of Denisov's. That was why Petya had blushed and grown\ +confused when Denisov asked him whether he could stay. Before they had\ +ridden to the outskirts of the forest Petya had considered he must carry\ +out his instructions strictly and return at once. But when he saw the\ +French and saw Tikhon and learned that there would certainly be an\ +attack that night, he decided, with the rapidity with which young people\ +change their views, that the general, whom he had greatly respected till\ +then, was a rubbishy German, that Denisov was a hero, the esaul a hero,\ +and Tikhon a hero too, and that it would be shameful for him to leave\ +them at a moment of difficulty.\ +\ +It was already growing dusk when Denisov, Petya, and the esaul rode up\ +to the watchhouse. In the twilight saddled horses could be seen, and\ +Cossacks and hussars who had rigged up rough shelters in the glade and\ +were kindling glowing fires in a hollow of the forest where the French\ +could not see the smoke. In the passage of the small watchhouse a\ +Cossack with sleeves rolled up was chopping some mutton. In the room\ +three officers of Denisov's band were converting a door into a tabletop.\ +Petya took off his wet clothes, gave them to be dried, and at once began\ +helping the officers to fix up the dinner table.\ +\ +In ten minutes the table was ready and a napkin spread on it. On the\ +table were vodka, a flask of rum, white bread, roast mutton, and salt.\ +\ +Sitting at table with the officers and tearing the fat savory mutton\ +with his hands, down which the grease trickled, Petya was in an ecstatic\ +childish state of love for all men, and consequently of confidence that\ +others loved him in the same way.\ +\ +"So then what do you think, Vasili Dmitrich?" said he to Denisov. "It's\ +all right my staying a day with you?" And not waiting for a reply he\ +answered his own question: "You see I was told to find out--well, I am\ +finding out.... Only do let me into the very... into the chief... I\ +don't want a reward... But I want..."\ +\ +Petya clenched his teeth and looked around, throwing back his head and\ +flourishing his arms.\ +\ +"Into the vewy chief..." Denisov repeated with a smile.\ +\ +"Only, please let me command something, so that I may really command..."\ +Petya went on. "What would it be to you?... Oh, you want a knife?" he\ +said, turning to an officer who wished to cut himself a piece of mutton.\ +\ +And he handed him his clasp knife. The officer admired it.\ +\ +"Please keep it. I have several like it," said Petya, blushing.\ +"Heavens! I was quite forgetting!" he suddenly cried. "I have some\ +raisins, fine ones; you know, seedless ones. We have a new sutler and he\ +has such capital things. I bought ten pounds. I am used to something\ +sweet. Would you like some?..." and Petya ran out into the passage to\ +his Cossack and brought back some bags which contained about five pounds\ +of raisins. "Have some, gentlemen, have some!"\ +\ +"You want a coffeepot, don't you?" he asked the esaul. "I bought a\ +capital one from our sutler! He has splendid things. And he's very\ +honest, that's the chief thing. I'll be sure to send it to you. Or\ +perhaps your flints are giving out, or are worn out--that happens\ +sometimes, you know. I have brought some with me, here they are"--and he\ +showed a bag--"a hundred flints. I bought them very cheap. Please take\ +as many as you want, or all if you like...."\ +\ +Then suddenly, dismayed lest he had said too much, Petya stopped and\ +blushed.\ +\ +He tried to remember whether he had not done anything else that was\ +foolish. And running over the events of the day he remembered the French\ +drummer boy. "It's capital for us here, but what of him? Where have they\ +put him? Have they fed him? Haven't they hurt his feelings?" he thought.\ +But having caught himself saying too much about the flints, he was now\ +afraid to speak out.\ +\ +"I might ask," he thought, "but they'll say: 'He's a boy himself and so\ +he pities the boy.' I'll show them tomorrow whether I'm a boy. Will it\ +seem odd if I ask?" Petya thought. "Well, never mind!" and immediately,\ +blushing and looking anxiously at the officers to see if they appeared\ +ironical, he said:\ +\ +"May I call in that boy who was taken prisoner and give him something to\ +eat?... Perhaps..."\ +\ +"Yes, he's a poor little fellow," said Denisov, who evidently saw\ +nothing shameful in this reminder. "Call him in. His name is Vincent\ +Bosse. Have him fetched."\ +\ +"I'll call him," said Petya.\ +\ +"Yes, yes, call him. A poor little fellow," Denisov repeated.\ +\ +Petya was standing at the door when Denisov said this. He slipped in\ +between the officers, came close to Denisov, and said:\ +\ +"Let me kiss you, dear old fellow! Oh, how fine, how splendid!"\ +\ +And having kissed Denisov he ran out of the hut.\ +\ +"Bosse! Vincent!" Petya cried, stopping outside the door.\ +\ +"Who do you want, sir?" asked a voice in the darkness.\ +\ +Petya replied that he wanted the French lad who had been captured that\ +day.\ +\ +"Ah, Vesenny?" said a Cossack.\ +\ +Vincent, the boy's name, had already been changed by the Cossacks into\ +Vesenny (vernal) and into Vesenya by the peasants and soldiers. In both\ +these adaptations the reference to spring (vesna) matched the impression\ +made by the young lad.\ +\ +"He is warming himself there by the bonfire. Ho, Vesenya! Vesenya!--\ +Vesenny!" laughing voices were heard calling to one another in the\ +darkness.\ +\ +"He's a smart lad," said an hussar standing near Petya. "We gave him\ +something to eat a while ago. He was awfully hungry!"\ +\ +The sound of bare feet splashing through the mud was heard in the\ +darkness, and the drummer boy came to the door.\ +\ +"Ah, c'est vous!" said Petya. "Voulez-vous manger? N'ayez pas peur, on\ +ne vous fera pas de mal," * he added shyly and affectionately, touching\ +the boy's hand. "Entrez, entrez." *(2)\ +\ +\ +* "Ah, it's you! Do you want something to eat? Don't be afraid, they\ +won't hurt you."\ +\ +* (2) "Come in, come in."\ +\ +"Merci, monsieur," * said the drummer boy in a trembling almost childish\ +voice, and he began scraping his dirty feet on the threshold.\ +\ +\ +* "Thank you, sir."\ +\ +There were many things Petya wanted to say to the drummer boy, but did\ +not dare to. He stood irresolutely beside him in the passage. Then in\ +the darkness he took the boy's hand and pressed it.\ +\ +"Come in, come in!" he repeated in a gentle whisper. "Oh, what can I do\ +for him?" he thought, and opening the door he let the boy pass in first.\ +\ +When the boy had entered the hut, Petya sat down at a distance from him,\ +considering it beneath his dignity to pay attention to him. But he\ +fingered the money in his pocket and wondered whether it would seem\ +ridiculous to give some to the drummer boy.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER VIII\ +\ +The arrival of Dolokhov diverted Petya's attention from the drummer boy,\ +to whom Denisov had had some mutton and vodka given, and whom he had had\ +dressed in a Russian coat so that he might be kept with their band and\ +not sent away with the other prisoners. Petya had heard in the army many\ +stories of Dolokhov's extraordinary bravery and of his cruelty to the\ +French, so from the moment he entered the hut Petya did not take his\ +eyes from him, but braced himself up more and more and held his head\ +high, that he might not be unworthy even of such company.\ +\ +Dolokhov's appearance amazed Petya by its simplicity.\ +\ +Denisov wore a Cossack coat, had a beard, had an icon of Nicholas the\ +Wonder-Worker on his breast, and his way of speaking and everything he\ +did indicated his unusual position. But Dolokhov, who in Moscow had worn\ +a Persian costume, had now the appearance of a most correct officer of\ +the Guards. He was clean-shaven and wore a Guardsman's padded coat with\ +an Order of St. George at his buttonhole and a plain forage cap set\ +straight on his head. He took off his wet felt cloak in a corner of the\ +room, and without greeting anyone went up to Denisov and began\ +questioning him about the matter in hand. Denisov told him of the\ +designs the large detachments had on the transport, of the message Petya\ +had brought, and his own replies to both generals. Then he told him all\ +he knew of the French detachment.\ +\ +"That's so. But we must know what troops they are and their numbers,"\ +said Dolokhov. "It will be necessary to go there. We can't start the\ +affair without knowing for certain how many there are. I like to work\ +accurately. Here now--wouldn't one of these gentlemen like to ride over\ +to the French camp with me? I have brought a spare uniform."\ +\ +"I, I... I'll go with you!" cried Petya.\ +\ +"There's no need for you to go at all," said Denisov, addressing\ +Dolokhov, "and as for him, I won't let him go on any account."\ +\ +"I like that!" exclaimed Petya. "Why shouldn't I go?"\ +\ +"Because it's useless."\ +\ +"Well, you must excuse me, because... because... I shall go, and that's\ +all. You'll take me, won't you?" he said, turning to Dolokhov.\ +\ +"Why not?" Dolokhov answered absently, scrutinizing the face of the\ +French drummer boy. "Have you had that youngster with you long?" he\ +asked Denisov.\ +\ +"He was taken today but he knows nothing. I'm keeping him with me."\ +\ +"Yes, and where do you put the others?" inquired Dolokhov.\ +\ +"Where? I send them away and take a weceipt for them," shouted Denisov,\ +suddenly flushing. "And I say boldly that I have not a single man's life\ +on my conscience. Would it be difficult for you to send thirty or thwee\ +hundwed men to town under escort, instead of staining--I speak bluntly--\ +staining the honor of a soldier?"\ +\ +"That kind of amiable talk would be suitable from this young count of\ +sixteen," said Dolokhov with cold irony, "but it's time for you to drop\ +it."\ +\ +"Why, I've not said anything! I only say that I'll certainly go with\ +you," said Petya shyly.\ +\ +"But for you and me, old fellow, it's time to drop these amenities,"\ +continued Dolokhov, as if he found particular pleasure in speaking of\ +this subject which irritated Denisov. "Now, why have you kept this lad?"\ +he went on, swaying his head. "Because you are sorry for him! Don't we\ +know those 'receipts' of yours? You send a hundred men away, and thirty\ +get there. The rest either starve or get killed. So isn't it all the\ +same not to send them?"\ +\ +The esaul, screwing up his light-colored eyes, nodded approvingly.\ +\ +"That's not the point. I'm not going to discuss the matter. I do not\ +wish to take it on my conscience. You say they'll die. All wight. Only\ +not by my fault!"\ +\ +Dolokhov began laughing.\ +\ +"Who has told them not to capture me these twenty times over? But if\ +they did catch me they'd string me up to an aspen tree, and with all\ +your chivalry just the same." He paused. "However, we must get to work.\ +Tell the Cossack to fetch my kit. I have two French uniforms in it.\ +Well, are you coming with me?" he asked Petya.\ +\ +"I? Yes, yes, certainly!" cried Petya, blushing almost to tears and\ +glancing at Denisov.\ +\ +While Dolokhov had been disputing with Denisov what should be done with\ +prisoners, Petya had once more felt awkward and restless; but again he\ +had no time to grasp fully what they were talking about. "If grown-up,\ +distinguished men think so, it must be necessary and right," thought he.\ +"But above all Denisov must not dare to imagine that I'll obey him and\ +that he can order me about. I will certainly go to the French camp with\ +Dolokhov. If he can, so can I!"\ +\ +And to all Denisov's persuasions, Petya replied that he too was\ +accustomed to do everything accurately and not just anyhow, and that he\ +never considered personal danger.\ +\ +"For you'll admit that if we don't know for sure how many of them there\ +are... hundreds of lives may depend on it, while there are only two of\ +us. Besides, I want to go very much and certainly will go, so don't\ +hinder me," said he. "It will only make things worse..."\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER IX\ +\ +Having put on French greatcoats and shakos, Petya and Dolokhov rode to\ +the clearing from which Denisov had reconnoitered the French camp, and\ +emerging from the forest in pitch darkness they descended into the\ +hollow. On reaching the bottom, Dolokhov told the Cossacks accompanying\ +him to await him there and rode on at a quick trot along the road to the\ +bridge. Petya, his heart in his mouth with excitement, rode by his side.\ +\ +"If we're caught, I won't be taken alive! I have a pistol," whispered\ +he.\ +\ +"Don't talk Russian," said Dolokhov in a hurried whisper, and at that\ +very moment they heard through the darkness the challenge: "Qui vive?" *\ +and the click of a musket.\ +\ +\ +* "Who goes there?"\ +\ +The blood rushed to Petya's face and he grasped his pistol.\ +\ +"Lanciers du 6-me," * replied Dolokhov, neither hastening nor slackening\ +his horse's pace.\ +\ +\ +* "Lancers of the 6th Regiment."\ +\ +The black figure of a sentinel stood on the bridge.\ +\ +"Mot d'ordre." *\ +\ +\ +* "Password."\ +\ +Dolokhov reined in his horse and advanced at a walk.\ +\ +"Dites donc, le colonel Gerard est ici?" * he asked.\ +\ +\ +* "Tell me, is Colonel Gerard here?"\ +\ +"Mot d'ordre," repeated the sentinel, barring the way and not replying.\ +\ +"Quand un officier fait sa ronde, les sentinelles ne demandent pas le\ +mot d'ordre..." cried Dolokhov suddenly flaring up and riding straight\ +at the sentinel. "Je vous demande si le colonel est ici." *\ +\ +\ +* "When an officer is making his round, sentinels don't ask him for the\ +password.... I am asking you if the colonel is here."\ +\ +And without waiting for an answer from the sentinel, who had stepped\ +aside, Dolokhov rode up the incline at a walk.\ +\ +Noticing the black outline of a man crossing the road, Dolokhov stopped\ +him and inquired where the commander and officers were. The man, a\ +soldier with a sack over his shoulder, stopped, came close up to\ +Dolokhov's horse, touched it with his hand, and explained simply and in\ +a friendly way that the commander and the officers were higher up the\ +hill to the right in the courtyard of the farm, as he called the\ +landowner's house.\ +\ +Having ridden up the road, on both sides of which French talk could be\ +heard around the campfires, Dolokhov turned into the courtyard of the\ +landowner's house. Having ridden in, he dismounted and approached a big\ +blazing campfire, around which sat several men talking noisily.\ +Something was boiling in a small cauldron at the edge of the fire and a\ +soldier in a peaked cap and blue overcoat, lit up by the fire, was\ +kneeling beside it stirring its contents with a ramrod.\ +\ +"Oh, he's a hard nut to crack," said one of the officers who was sitting\ +in the shadow at the other side of the fire.\ +\ +"He'll make them get a move on, those fellows!" said another, laughing.\ +\ +Both fell silent, peering out through the darkness at the sound of\ +Dolokhov's and Petya's steps as they advanced to the fire leading their\ +horses.\ +\ +"Bonjour, messieurs!" * said Dolokhov loudly and clearly.\ +\ +\ +* "Good day, gentlemen."\ +\ +There was a stir among the officers in the shadow beyond the fire, and\ +one tall, long-necked officer, walking round the fire, came up to\ +Dolokhov.\ +\ +"Is that you, Clement?" he asked. "Where the devil...?" But, noticing\ +his mistake, he broke off short and, with a frown, greeted Dolokhov as a\ +stranger, asking what he could do for him.\ +\ +Dolokhov said that he and his companion were trying to overtake their\ +regiment, and addressing the company in general asked whether they knew\ +anything of the 6th Regiment. None of them knew anything, and Petya\ +thought the officers were beginning to look at him and Dolokhov with\ +hostility and suspicion. For some seconds all were silent.\ +\ +"If you were counting on the evening soup, you have come too late," said\ +a voice from behind the fire with a repressed laugh.\ +\ +Dolokhov replied that they were not hungry and must push on farther that\ +night.\ +\ +He handed the horses over to the soldier who was stirring the pot and\ +squatted down on his heels by the fire beside the officer with the long\ +neck. That officer did not take his eyes from Dolokhov and again asked\ +to what regiment he belonged. Dolokhov, as if he had not heard the\ +question, did not reply, but lighting a short French pipe which he took\ +from his pocket began asking the officer in how far the road before them\ +was safe from Cossacks.\ +\ +"Those brigands are everywhere," replied an officer from behind the\ +fire.\ +\ +Dolokhov remarked that the Cossacks were a danger only to stragglers\ +such as his companion and himself, "but probably they would not dare to\ +attack large detachments?" he added inquiringly. No one replied.\ +\ +"Well, now he'll come away," Petya thought every moment as he stood by\ +the campfire listening to the talk.\ +\ +But Dolokhov restarted the conversation which had dropped and began\ +putting direct questions as to how many men there were in the battalion,\ +how many battalions, and how many prisoners. Asking about the Russian\ +prisoners with that detachment, Dolokhov said:\ +\ +"A horrid business dragging these corpses about with one! It would be\ +better to shoot such rabble," and burst into loud laughter, so strange\ +that Petya thought the French would immediately detect their disguise,\ +and involuntarily took a step back from the campfire.\ +\ +No one replied a word to Dolokhov's laughter, and a French officer whom\ +they could not see (he lay wrapped in a greatcoat) rose and whispered\ +something to a companion. Dolokhov got up and called to the soldier who\ +was holding their horses.\ +\ +"Will they bring our horses or not?" thought Petya, instinctively\ +drawing nearer to Dolokhov.\ +\ +The horses were brought.\ +\ +"Good evening, gentlemen," said Dolokhov.\ +\ +Petya wished to say "Good night" but could not utter a word. The\ +officers were whispering together. Dolokhov was a long time mounting his\ +horse which would not stand still, then he rode out of the yard at a\ +footpace. Petya rode beside him, longing to look round to see whether or\ +not the French were running after them, but not daring to.\ +\ +Coming out onto the road Dolokhov did not ride back across the open\ +country, but through the village. At one spot he stopped and listened.\ +"Do you hear?" he asked. Petya recognized the sound of Russian voices\ +and saw the dark figures of Russian prisoners round their campfires.\ +When they had descended to the bridge Petya and Dolokhov rode past the\ +sentinel, who without saying a word paced morosely up and down it, then\ +they descended into the hollow where the Cossacks awaited them.\ +\ +"Well now, good-by. Tell Denisov, 'at the first shot at daybreak,'" said\ +Dolokhov and was about to ride away, but Petya seized hold of him.\ +\ +"Really!" he cried, "you are such a hero! Oh, how fine, how splendid!\ +How I love you!"\ +\ +"All right, all right!" said Dolokhov. But Petya did not let go of him\ +and Dolokhov saw through the gloom that Petya was bending toward him and\ +wanted to kiss him. Dolokhov kissed him, laughed, turned his horse, and\ +vanished into the darkness.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER X\ +\ +Having returned to the watchman's hut, Petya found Denisov in the\ +passage. He was awaiting Petya's return in a state of agitation,\ +anxiety, and self-reproach for having let him go.\ +\ +"Thank God!" he exclaimed. "Yes, thank God!" he repeated, listening to\ +Petya's rapturous account. "But, devil take you, I haven't slept because\ +of you! Well, thank God. Now lie down. We can still get a nap before\ +morning."\ +\ +"But... no," said Petya, "I don't want to sleep yet. Besides I know\ +myself, if I fall asleep it's finished. And then I am used to not\ +sleeping before a battle."\ +\ +He sat awhile in the hut joyfully recalling the details of his\ +expedition and vividly picturing to himself what would happen next day.\ +\ +Then, noticing that Denisov was asleep, he rose and went out of doors.\ +\ +It was still quite dark outside. The rain was over, but drops were still\ +falling from the trees. Near the watchman's hut the black shapes of the\ +Cossacks' shanties and of horses tethered together could be seen. Behind\ +the hut the dark shapes of the two wagons with their horses beside them\ +were discernible, and in the hollow the dying campfire gleamed red. Not\ +all the Cossacks and hussars were asleep; here and there, amid the\ +sounds of falling drops and the munching of the horses near by, could be\ +heard low voices which seemed to be whispering.\ +\ +Petya came out, peered into the darkness, and went up to the wagons.\ +Someone was snoring under them, and around them stood saddled horses\ +munching their oats. In the dark Petya recognized his own horse, which\ +he called "Karabakh" though it was of Ukranian breed, and went up to it.\ +\ +"Well, Karabakh! We'll do some service tomorrow," said he, sniffing its\ +nostrils and kissing it.\ +\ +"Why aren't you asleep, sir?" said a Cossack who was sitting under a\ +wagon.\ +\ +"No, ah... Likhachev--isn't that your name? Do you know I have only just\ +come back! We've been into the French camp."\ +\ +And Petya gave the Cossack a detailed account not only of his ride but\ +also of his object, and why he considered it better to risk his life\ +than to act "just anyhow."\ +\ +"Well, you should get some sleep now," said the Cossack.\ +\ +"No, I am used to this," said Petya. "I say, aren't the flints in your\ +pistols worn out? I brought some with me. Don't you want any? You can\ +have some."\ +\ +The Cossack bent forward from under the wagon to get a closer look at\ +Petya.\ +\ +"Because I am accustomed to doing everything accurately," said Petya.\ +"Some fellows do things just anyhow, without preparation, and then\ +they're sorry for it afterwards. I don't like that."\ +\ +"Just so," said the Cossack.\ +\ +"Oh yes, another thing! Please, my dear fellow, will you sharpen my\ +saber for me? It's got bl..." (Petya feared to tell a lie, and the saber\ +never had been sharpened.) "Can you do it?"\ +\ +"Of course I can."\ +\ +Likhachev got up, rummaged in his pack, and soon Petya heard the warlike\ +sound of steel on whetstone. He climbed onto the wagon and sat on its\ +edge. The Cossack was sharpening the saber under the wagon.\ +\ +"I say! Are the lads asleep?" asked Petya.\ +\ +"Some are, and some aren't--like us."\ +\ +"Well, and that boy?"\ +\ +"Vesenny? Oh, he's thrown himself down there in the passage. Fast asleep\ +after his fright. He was that glad!"\ +\ +After that Petya remained silent for a long time, listening to the\ +sounds. He heard footsteps in the darkness and a black figure appeared.\ +\ +"What are you sharpening?" asked a man coming up to the wagon.\ +\ +"Why, this gentleman's saber."\ +\ +"That's right," said the man, whom Petya took to be an hussar. "Was the\ +cup left here?"\ +\ +"There, by the wheel!"\ +\ +The hussar took the cup.\ +\ +"It must be daylight soon," said he, yawning, and went away.\ +\ +Petya ought to have known that he was in a forest with Denisov's\ +guerrilla band, less than a mile from the road, sitting on a wagon\ +captured from the French beside which horses were tethered, that under\ +it Likhachev was sitting sharpening a saber for him, that the big dark\ +blotch to the right was the watchman's hut, and the red blotch below to\ +the left was the dying embers of a campfire, that the man who had come\ +for the cup was an hussar who wanted a drink; but he neither knew nor\ +waited to know anything of all this. He was in a fairy kingdom where\ +nothing resembled reality. The big dark blotch might really be the\ +watchman's hut or it might be a cavern leading to the very depths of the\ +earth. Perhaps the red spot was a fire, or it might be the eye of an\ +enormous monster. Perhaps he was really sitting on a wagon, but it might\ +very well be that he was not sitting on a wagon but on a terribly high\ +tower from which, if he fell, he would have to fall for a whole day or a\ +whole month, or go on falling and never reach the bottom. Perhaps it was\ +just the Cossack, Likhachev, who was sitting under the wagon, but it\ +might be the kindest, bravest, most wonderful, most splendid man in the\ +world, whom no one knew of. It might really have been that the hussar\ +came for water and went back into the hollow, but perhaps he had simply\ +vanished--disappeared altogether and dissolved into nothingness.\ +\ +Nothing Petya could have seen now would have surprised him. He was in a\ +fairy kingdom where everything was possible.\ +\ +He looked up at the sky. And the sky was a fairy realm like the earth.\ +It was clearing, and over the tops of the trees clouds were swiftly\ +sailing as if unveiling the stars. Sometimes it looked as if the clouds\ +were passing, and a clear black sky appeared. Sometimes it seemed as if\ +the black spaces were clouds. Sometimes the sky seemed to be rising\ +high, high overhead, and then it seemed to sink so low that one could\ +touch it with one's hand.\ +\ +Petya's eyes began to close and he swayed a little.\ +\ +The trees were dripping. Quiet talking was heard. The horses neighed and\ +jostled one another. Someone snored.\ +\ +"Ozheg-zheg, Ozheg-zheg..." hissed the saber against the whetstone, and\ +suddenly Petya heard an harmonious orchestra playing some unknown,\ +sweetly solemn hymn. Petya was as musical as Natasha and more so than\ +Nicholas, but had never learned music or thought about it, and so the\ +melody that unexpectedly came to his mind seemed to him particularly\ +fresh and attractive. The music became more and more audible. The melody\ +grew and passed from one instrument to another. And what was played was\ +a fugue--though Petya had not the least conception of what a fugue is.\ +Each instrument--now resembling a violin and now a horn, but better and\ +clearer than violin or horn--played its own part, and before it had\ +finished the melody merged with another instrument that began almost the\ +same air, and then with a third and a fourth; and they all blended into\ +one and again became separate and again blended, now into solemn church\ +music, now into something dazzlingly brilliant and triumphant.\ +\ +"Oh--why, that was in a dream!" Petya said to himself, as he lurched\ +forward. "It's in my ears. But perhaps it's music of my own. Well, go\ +on, my music! Now!..."\ +\ +He closed his eyes, and, from all sides as if from a distance, sounds\ +fluttered, grew into harmonies, separated, blended, and again all\ +mingled into the same sweet and solemn hymn. "Oh, this is delightful! As\ +much as I like and as I like!" said Petya to himself. He tried to\ +conduct that enormous orchestra.\ +\ +"Now softly, softly die away!" and the sounds obeyed him. "Now fuller,\ +more joyful. Still more and more joyful!" And from an unknown depth rose\ +increasingly triumphant sounds. "Now voices join in!" ordered Petya. And\ +at first from afar he heard men's voices and then women's. The voices\ +grew in harmonious triumphant strength, and Petya listened to their\ +surpassing beauty in awe and joy.\ +\ +With a solemn triumphal march there mingled a song, the drip from the\ +trees, and the hissing of the saber, "Ozheg-zheg-zheg..." and again the\ +horses jostled one another and neighed, not disturbing the choir but\ +joining in it.\ +\ +Petya did not know how long this lasted: he enjoyed himself all the\ +time, wondered at his enjoyment and regretted that there was no one to\ +share it. He was awakened by Likhachev's kindly voice.\ +\ +"It's ready, your honor; you can split a Frenchman in half with it!"\ +\ +Petya woke up.\ +\ +"It's getting light, it's really getting light!" he exclaimed.\ +\ +The horses that had previously been invisible could now be seen to their\ +very tails, and a watery light showed itself through the bare branches.\ +Petya shook himself, jumped up, took a ruble from his pocket and gave it\ +to Likhachev; then he flourished the saber, tested it, and sheathed it.\ +The Cossacks were untying their horses and tightening their saddle\ +girths.\ +\ +"And here's the commander," said Likhachev.\ +\ +Denisov came out of the watchman's hut and, having called Petya, gave\ +orders to get ready.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XI\ +\ +The men rapidly picked out their horses in the semidarkness, tightened\ +their saddle girths, and formed companies. Denisov stood by the\ +watchman's hut giving final orders. The infantry of the detachment\ +passed along the road and quickly disappeared amid the trees in the mist\ +of early dawn, hundreds of feet splashing through the mud. The esaul\ +gave some orders to his men. Petya held his horse by the bridle,\ +impatiently awaiting the order to mount. His face, having been bathed in\ +cold water, was all aglow, and his eyes were particularly brilliant.\ +Cold shivers ran down his spine and his whole body pulsed rhythmically.\ +\ +"Well, is ev'wything weady?" asked Denisov. "Bwing the horses."\ +\ +The horses were brought. Denisov was angry with the Cossack because the\ +saddle girths were too slack, reproved him, and mounted. Petya put his\ +foot in the stirrup. His horse by habit made as if to nip his leg, but\ +Petya leaped quickly into the saddle unconscious of his own weight and,\ +turning to look at the hussars starting in the darkness behind him, rode\ +up to Denisov.\ +\ +"Vasili Dmitrich, entrust me with some commission! Please... for God's\ +sake...!" said he.\ +\ +Denisov seemed to have forgotten Petya's very existence. He turned to\ +glance at him.\ +\ +"I ask one thing of you," he said sternly, "to obey me and not shove\ +yourself forward anywhere."\ +\ +He did not say another word to Petya but rode in silence all the way.\ +When they had come to the edge of the forest it was noticeably growing\ +light over the field. Denisov talked in whispers with the esaul and the\ +Cossacks rode past Petya and Denisov. When they had all ridden by,\ +Denisov touched his horse and rode down the hill. Slipping onto their\ +haunches and sliding, the horses descended with their riders into the\ +ravine. Petya rode beside Denisov, the pulsation of his body constantly\ +increasing. It was getting lighter and lighter, but the mist still hid\ +distant objects. Having reached the valley, Denisov looked back and\ +nodded to a Cossack beside him.\ +\ +"The signal!" said he.\ +\ +The Cossack raised his arm and a shot rang out. In an instant the tramp\ +of horses galloping forward was heard, shouts came from various sides,\ +and then more shots.\ +\ +At the first sound of trampling hoofs and shouting, Petya lashed his\ +horse and loosening his rein galloped forward, not heeding Denisov who\ +shouted at him. It seemed to Petya that at the moment the shot was fired\ +it suddenly became as bright as noon. He galloped to the bridge.\ +Cossacks were galloping along the road in front of him. On the bridge he\ +collided with a Cossack who had fallen behind, but he galloped on. In\ +front of him soldiers, probably Frenchmen, were running from right to\ +left across the road. One of them fell in the mud under his horse's\ +feet.\ +\ +Cossacks were crowding about a hut, busy with something. From the midst\ +of that crowd terrible screams arose. Petya galloped up, and the first\ +thing he saw was the pale face and trembling jaw of a Frenchman,\ +clutching the handle of a lance that had been aimed at him.\ +\ +"Hurrah!... Lads!... ours!" shouted Petya, and giving rein to his\ +excited horse he galloped forward along the village street.\ +\ +He could hear shooting ahead of him. Cossacks, hussars, and ragged\ +Russian prisoners, who had come running from both sides of the road,\ +were shouting something loudly and incoherently. A gallant-looking\ +Frenchman, in a blue overcoat, capless, and with a frowning red face,\ +had been defending himself against the hussars. When Petya galloped up\ +the Frenchman had already fallen. "Too late again!" flashed through\ +Petya's mind and he galloped on to the place from which the rapid firing\ +could be heard. The shots came from the yard of the landowner's house he\ +had visited the night before with Dolokhov. The French were making a\ +stand there behind a wattle fence in a garden thickly overgrown with\ +bushes and were firing at the Cossacks who crowded at the gateway.\ +Through the smoke, as he approached the gate, Petya saw Dolokhov, whose\ +face was of a pale-greenish tint, shouting to his men. "Go round! Wait\ +for the infantry!" he exclaimed as Petya rode up to him.\ +\ +"Wait?... Hurrah-ah-ah!" shouted Petya, and without pausing a moment\ +galloped to the place whence came the sounds of firing and where the\ +smoke was thickest.\ +\ +A volley was heard, and some bullets whistled past, while others plashed\ +against something. The Cossacks and Dolokhov galloped after Petya into\ +the gateway of the courtyard. In the dense wavering smoke some of the\ +French threw down their arms and ran out of the bushes to meet the\ +Cossacks, while others ran down the hill toward the pond. Petya was\ +galloping along the courtyard, but instead of holding the reins he waved\ +both his arms about rapidly and strangely, slipping farther and farther\ +to one side in his saddle. His horse, having galloped up to a campfire\ +that was smoldering in the morning light, stopped suddenly, and Petya\ +fell heavily on to the wet ground. The Cossacks saw that his arms and\ +legs jerked rapidly though his head was quite motionless. A bullet had\ +pierced his skull.\ +\ +After speaking to the senior French officer, who came out of the house\ +with a white handkerchief tied to his sword and announced that they\ +surrendered, Dolokhov dismounted and went up to Petya, who lay\ +motionless with outstretched arms.\ +\ +"Done for!" he said with a frown, and went to the gate to meet Denisov\ +who was riding toward him.\ +\ +"Killed?" cried Denisov, recognizing from a distance the unmistakably\ +lifeless attitude--very familiar to him--in which Petya's body was\ +lying.\ +\ +"Done for!" repeated Dolokhov as if the utterance of these words\ +afforded him pleasure, and he went quickly up to the prisoners, who were\ +surrounded by Cossacks who had hurried up. "We won't take them!" he\ +called out to Denisov.\ +\ +Denisov did not reply; he rode up to Petya, dismounted, and with\ +trembling hands turned toward himself the bloodstained, mud-bespattered\ +face which had already gone white.\ +\ +"I am used to something sweet. Raisins, fine ones... take them all!" he\ +recalled Petya's words. And the Cossacks looked round in surprise at the\ +sound, like the yelp of a dog, with which Denisov turned away, walked to\ +the wattle fence, and seized hold of it.\ +\ +Among the Russian prisoners rescued by Denisov and Dolokhov was Pierre\ +Bezukhov.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XII\ +\ +During the whole of their march from Moscow no fresh orders had been\ +issued by the French authorities concerning the party of prisoners among\ +whom was Pierre. On the twenty-second of October that party was no\ +longer with the same troops and baggage trains with which it had left\ +Moscow. Half the wagons laden with hardtack that had traveled the first\ +stages with them had been captured by Cossacks, the other half had gone\ +on ahead. Not one of those dismounted cavalrymen who had marched in\ +front of the prisoners was left; they had all disappeared. The artillery\ +the prisoners had seen in front of them during the first days was now\ +replaced by Marshal Junot's enormous baggage train, convoyed by\ +Westphalians. Behind the prisoners came a cavalry baggage train.\ +\ +From Vyazma onwards the French army, which had till then moved in three\ +columns, went on as a single group. The symptoms of disorder that Pierre\ +had noticed at their first halting place after leaving Moscow had now\ +reached the utmost limit.\ +\ +The road along which they moved was bordered on both sides by dead\ +horses; ragged men who had fallen behind from various regiments\ +continually changed about, now joining the moving column, now again\ +lagging behind it.\ +\ +Several times during the march false alarms had been given and the\ +soldiers of the escort had raised their muskets, fired, and run\ +headlong, crushing one another, but had afterwards reassembled and\ +abused each other for their causeless panic.\ +\ +These three groups traveling together--the cavalry stores, the convoy of\ +prisoners, and Junot's baggage train--still constituted a separate and\ +united whole, though each of the groups was rapidly melting away.\ +\ +Of the artillery baggage train which had consisted of a hundred and\ +twenty wagons, not more than sixty now remained; the rest had been\ +captured or left behind. Some of Junot's wagons also had been captured\ +or abandoned. Three wagons had been raided and robbed by stragglers from\ +Davout's corps. From the talk of the Germans Pierre learned that a\ +larger guard had been allotted to that baggage train than to the\ +prisoners, and that one of their comrades, a German soldier, had been\ +shot by the marshal's own order because a silver spoon belonging to the\ +marshal had been found in his possession.\ +\ +The group of prisoners had melted away most of all. Of the three hundred\ +and thirty men who had set out from Moscow fewer than a hundred now\ +remained. The prisoners were more burdensome to the escort than even the\ +cavalry saddles or Junot's baggage. They understood that the saddles and\ +Junot's spoon might be of some use, but that cold and hungry soldiers\ +should have to stand and guard equally cold and hungry Russians who\ +froze and lagged behind on the road (in which case the order was to\ +shoot them) was not merely incomprehensible but revolting. And the\ +escort, as if afraid, in the grievous condition they themselves were in,\ +of giving way to the pity they felt for the prisoners and so rendering\ +their own plight still worse, treated them with particular moroseness\ +and severity.\ +\ +At Dorogobuzh while the soldiers of the convoy, after locking the\ +prisoners in a stable, had gone off to pillage their own stores, several\ +of the soldier prisoners tunneled under the wall and ran away, but were\ +recaptured by the French and shot.\ +\ +The arrangement adopted when they started, that the officer prisoners\ +should be kept separate from the rest, had long since been abandoned.\ +All who could walk went together, and after the third stage Pierre had\ +rejoined Karataev and the gray-blue bandy-legged dog that had chosen\ +Karataev for its master.\ +\ +On the third day after leaving Moscow Karataev again fell ill with the\ +fever he had suffered from in the hospital in Moscow, and as he grew\ +gradually weaker Pierre kept away from him. Pierre did not know why, but\ +since Karataev had begun to grow weaker it had cost him an effort to go\ +near him. When he did so and heard the subdued moaning with which\ +Karataev generally lay down at the halting places, and when he smelled\ +the odor emanating from him which was now stronger than before, Pierre\ +moved farther away and did not think about him.\ +\ +While imprisoned in the shed Pierre had learned not with his intellect\ +but with his whole being, by life itself, that man is created for\ +happiness, that happiness is within him, in the satisfaction of simple\ +human needs, and that all unhappiness arises not from privation but from\ +superfluity. And now during these last three weeks of the march he had\ +learned still another new, consolatory truth--that nothing in this world\ +is terrible. He had learned that as there is no condition in which man\ +can be happy and entirely free, so there is no condition in which he\ +need be unhappy and lack freedom. He learned that suffering and freedom\ +have their limits and that those limits are very near together; that the\ +person in a bed of roses with one crumpled petal suffered as keenly as\ +he now, sleeping on the bare damp earth with one side growing chilled\ +while the other was warming; and that when he had put on tight dancing\ +shoes he had suffered just as he did now when he walked with bare feet\ +that were covered with sores--his footgear having long since fallen to\ +pieces. He discovered that when he had married his wife--of his own free\ +will as it had seemed to him--he had been no more free than now when\ +they locked him up at night in a stable. Of all that he himself\ +subsequently termed his sufferings, but which at the time he scarcely\ +felt, the worst was the state of his bare, raw, and scab-covered feet.\ +(The horseflesh was appetizing and nourishing, the saltpeter flavor of\ +the gunpowder they used instead of salt was even pleasant; there was no\ +great cold, it was always warm walking in the daytime, and at night\ +there were the campfires; the lice that devoured him warmed his body.)\ +The one thing that was at first hard to bear was his feet.\ +\ +After the second day's march Pierre, having examined his feet by the\ +campfire, thought it would be impossible to walk on them; but when\ +everybody got up he went along, limping, and, when he had warmed up,\ +walked without feeling the pain, though at night his feet were more\ +terrible to look at than before. However, he did not look at them now,\ +but thought of other things.\ +\ +Only now did Pierre realize the full strength of life in man and the\ +saving power he has of transferring his attention from one thing to\ +another, which is like the safety valve of a boiler that allows\ +superfluous steam to blow off when the pressure exceeds a certain limit.\ +\ +He did not see and did not hear how they shot the prisoners who lagged\ +behind, though more than a hundred perished in that way. He did not\ +think of Karataev who grew weaker every day and evidently would soon\ +have to share that fate. Still less did Pierre think about himself. The\ +harder his position became and the more terrible the future, the more\ +independent of that position in which he found himself were the joyful\ +and comforting thoughts, memories, and imaginings that came to him.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XIII\ +\ +At midday on the twenty-second of October Pierre was going uphill along\ +the muddy, slippery road, looking at his feet and at the roughness of\ +the way. Occasionally he glanced at the familiar crowd around him and\ +then again at his feet. The former and the latter were alike familiar\ +and his own. The blue-gray bandy legged dog ran merrily along the side\ +of the road, sometimes in proof of its agility and self-satisfaction\ +lifting one hind leg and hopping along on three, and then again going on\ +all four and rushing to bark at the crows that sat on the carrion. The\ +dog was merrier and sleeker than it had been in Moscow. All around lay\ +the flesh of different animals--from men to horses--in various stages of\ +decomposition; and as the wolves were kept off by the passing men the\ +dog could eat all it wanted.\ +\ +It had been raining since morning and had seemed as if at any moment it\ +might cease and the sky clear, but after a short break it began raining\ +harder than before. The saturated road no longer absorbed the water,\ +which ran along the ruts in streams.\ +\ +Pierre walked along, looking from side to side, counting his steps in\ +threes, and reckoning them off on his fingers. Mentally addressing the\ +rain, he repeated: "Now then, now then, go on! Pelt harder!"\ +\ +It seemed to him that he was thinking of nothing, but far down and deep\ +within him his soul was occupied with something important and\ +comforting. This something was a most subtle spiritual deduction from a\ +conversation with Karataev the day before.\ +\ +At their yesterday's halting place, feeling chilly by a dying campfire,\ +Pierre had got up and gone to the next one, which was burning better.\ +There Platon Karataev was sitting covered up--head and all--with his\ +greatcoat as if it were a vestment, telling the soldiers in his\ +effective and pleasant though now feeble voice a story Pierre knew. It\ +was already past midnight, the hour when Karataev was usually free of\ +his fever and particularly lively. When Pierre reached the fire and\ +heard Platon's voice enfeebled by illness, and saw his pathetic face\ +brightly lit up by the blaze, he felt a painful prick at his heart. His\ +feeling of pity for this man frightened him and he wished to go away,\ +but there was no other fire, and Pierre sat down, trying not to look at\ +Platon.\ +\ +"Well, how are you?" he asked.\ +\ +"How am I? If we grumble at sickness, God won't grant us death," replied\ +Platon, and at once resumed the story he had begun.\ +\ +"And so, brother," he continued, with a smile on his pale emaciated face\ +and a particularly happy light in his eyes, "you see, brother..."\ +\ +Pierre had long been familiar with that story. Karataev had told it to\ +him alone some half-dozen times and always with a specially joyful\ +emotion. But well as he knew it, Pierre now listened to that tale as to\ +something new, and the quiet rapture Karataev evidently felt as he told\ +it communicated itself also to Pierre. The story was of an old merchant\ +who lived a good and God-fearing life with his family, and who went once\ +to the Nizhni fair with a companion--a rich merchant.\ +\ +Having put up at an inn they both went to sleep, and next morning his\ +companion was found robbed and with his throat cut. A bloodstained knife\ +was found under the old merchant's pillow. He was tried, knouted, and\ +his nostrils having been torn off, "all in due form" as Karataev put it,\ +he was sent to hard labor in Siberia.\ +\ +"And so, brother" (it was at this point that Pierre came up), "ten years\ +or more passed by. The old man was living as a convict, submitting as he\ +should and doing no wrong. Only he prayed to God for death. Well, one\ +night the convicts were gathered just as we are, with the old man among\ +them. And they began telling what each was suffering for, and how they\ +had sinned against God. One told how he had taken a life, another had\ +taken two, a third had set a house on fire, while another had simply\ +been a vagrant and had done nothing. So they asked the old man: 'What\ +are you being punished for, Daddy?'--'I, my dear brothers,' said he, 'am\ +being punished for my own and other men's sins. But I have not killed\ +anyone or taken anything that was not mine, but have only helped my\ +poorer brothers. I was a merchant, my dear brothers, and had much\ +property. 'And he went on to tell them all about it in due order. 'I\ +don't grieve for myself,' he says, 'God, it seems, has chastened me.\ +Only I am sorry for my old wife and the children,' and the old man began\ +to weep. Now it happened that in the group was the very man who had\ +killed the other merchant. 'Where did it happen, Daddy?' he said. 'When,\ +and in what month?' He asked all about it and his heart began to ache.\ +So he comes up to the old man like this, and falls down at his feet!\ +'You are perishing because of me, Daddy,' he says. 'It's quite true,\ +lads, that this man,' he says, 'is being tortured innocently and for\ +nothing! I,' he says, 'did that deed, and I put the knife under your\ +head while you were asleep. Forgive me, Daddy,' he says, 'for Christ's\ +sake!'"\ +\ +Karataev paused, smiling joyously as he gazed into the fire, and he drew\ +the logs together.\ +\ +"And the old man said, 'God will forgive you, we are all sinners in His\ +sight. I suffer for my own sins,' and he wept bitter tears. Well, and\ +what do you think, dear friends?" Karataev continued, his face\ +brightening more and more with a rapturous smile as if what he now had\ +to tell contained the chief charm and the whole meaning of his story:\ +"What do you think, dear fellows? That murderer confessed to the\ +authorities. 'I have taken six lives,' he says (he was a great sinner),\ +'but what I am most sorry for is this old man. Don't let him suffer\ +because of me.' So he confessed and it was all written down and the\ +papers sent off in due form. The place was a long way off, and while\ +they were judging, what with one thing and another, filling in the\ +papers all in due form--the authorities I mean--time passed. The affair\ +reached the Tsar. After a while the Tsar's decree came: to set the\ +merchant free and give him a compensation that had been awarded. The\ +paper arrived and they began to look for the old man. 'Where is the old\ +man who has been suffering innocently and in vain? A paper has come from\ +the Tsar!' so they began looking for him," here Karataev's lower jaw\ +trembled, "but God had already forgiven him--he was dead! That's how it\ +was, dear fellows!" Karataev concluded and sat for a long time silent,\ +gazing before him with a smile.\ +\ +And Pierre's soul was dimly but joyfully filled not by the story itself\ +but by its mysterious significance: by the rapturous joy that lit up\ +Karataev's face as he told it, and the mystic significance of that joy.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XIV\ +\ +"A vos places!" * suddenly cried a voice.\ +\ +\ +* "To your places."\ +\ +A pleasant feeling of excitement and an expectation of something joyful\ +and solemn was aroused among the soldiers of the convoy and the\ +prisoners. From all sides came shouts of command, and from the left came\ +smartly dressed cavalrymen on good horses, passing the prisoners at a\ +trot. The expression on all faces showed the tension people feel at the\ +approach of those in authority. The prisoners thronged together and were\ +pushed off the road. The convoy formed up.\ +\ +"The Emperor! The Emperor! The Marshal! The Duke!" and hardly had the\ +sleek cavalry passed, before a carriage drawn by six gray horses rattled\ +by. Pierre caught a glimpse of a man in a three-cornered hat with a\ +tranquil look on his handsome, plump, white face. It was one of the\ +marshals. His eye fell on Pierre's large and striking figure, and in the\ +expression with which he frowned and looked away Pierre thought he\ +detected sympathy and a desire to conceal that sympathy.\ +\ +The general in charge of the stores galloped after the carriage with a\ +red and frightened face, whipping up his skinny horse. Several officers\ +formed a group and some soldiers crowded round them. Their faces all\ +looked excited and worried.\ +\ +"What did he say? What did he say?" Pierre heard them ask.\ +\ +While the marshal was passing, the prisoners had huddled together in a\ +crowd, and Pierre saw Karataev whom he had not yet seen that morning. He\ +sat in his short overcoat leaning against a birch tree. On his face,\ +besides the look of joyful emotion it had worn yesterday while telling\ +the tale of the merchant who suffered innocently, there was now an\ +expression of quiet solemnity.\ +\ +Karataev looked at Pierre with his kindly round eyes now filled with\ +tears, evidently wishing him to come near that he might say something to\ +him. But Pierre was not sufficiently sure of himself. He made as if he\ +did not notice that look and moved hastily away.\ +\ +When the prisoners again went forward Pierre looked round. Karataev was\ +still sitting at the side of the road under the birch tree and two\ +Frenchmen were talking over his head. Pierre did not look round again\ +but went limping up the hill.\ +\ +From behind, where Karataev had been sitting, came the sound of a shot.\ +Pierre heard it plainly, but at that moment he remembered that he had\ +not yet finished reckoning up how many stages still remained to\ +Smolensk--a calculation he had begun before the marshal went by. And he\ +again started reckoning. Two French soldiers ran past Pierre, one of\ +whom carried a lowered and smoking gun. They both looked pale, and in\ +the expression on their faces--one of them glanced timidly at Pierre--\ +there was something resembling what he had seen on the face of the young\ +soldier at the execution. Pierre looked at the soldier and remembered\ +that, two days before, that man had burned his shirt while drying it at\ +the fire and how they had laughed at him.\ +\ +Behind him, where Karataev had been sitting, the dog began to howl.\ +"What a stupid beast! Why is it howling?" thought Pierre.\ +\ +His comrades, the prisoner soldiers walking beside him, avoided looking\ +back at the place where the shot had been fired and the dog was howling,\ +just as Pierre did, but there was a set look on all their faces.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XV\ +\ +The stores, the prisoners, and the marshal's baggage train stopped at\ +the village of Shamshevo. The men crowded together round the campfires.\ +Pierre went up to the fire, ate some roast horseflesh, lay down with his\ +back to the fire, and immediately fell asleep. He again slept as he had\ +done at Mozhaysk after the battle of Borodino.\ +\ +Again real events mingled with dreams and again someone, he or another,\ +gave expression to his thoughts, and even to the same thoughts that had\ +been expressed in his dream at Mozhaysk.\ +\ +"Life is everything. Life is God. Everything changes and moves and that\ +movement is God. And while there is life there is joy in consciousness\ +of the divine. To love life is to love God. Harder and more blessed than\ +all else is to love this life in one's sufferings, in innocent\ +sufferings."\ +\ +"Karataev!" came to Pierre's mind.\ +\ +And suddenly he saw vividly before him a long-forgotten, kindly old man\ +who had given him geography lessons in Switzerland. "Wait a bit," said\ +the old man, and showed Pierre a globe. This globe was alive--a\ +vibrating ball without fixed dimensions. Its whole surface consisted of\ +drops closely pressed together, and all these drops moved and changed\ +places, sometimes several of them merging into one, sometimes one\ +dividing into many. Each drop tried to spread out and occupy as much\ +space as possible, but others striving to do the same compressed it,\ +sometimes destroyed it, and sometimes merged with it.\ +\ +"That is life," said the old teacher.\ +\ +"How simple and clear it is," thought Pierre. "How is it I did not know\ +it before?"\ +\ +"God is in the midst, and each drop tries to expand so as to reflect Him\ +to the greatest extent. And it grows, merges, disappears from the\ +surface, sinks to the depths, and again emerges. There now, Karataev has\ +spread out and disappeared. Do you understand, my child?" said the\ +teacher.\ +\ +"Do you understand, damn you?" shouted a voice, and Pierre woke up.\ +\ +He lifted himself and sat up. A Frenchman who had just pushed a Russian\ +soldier away was squatting by the fire, engaged in roasting a piece of\ +meat stuck on a ramrod. His sleeves were rolled up and his sinewy,\ +hairy, red hands with their short fingers deftly turned the ramrod. His\ +brown morose face with frowning brows was clearly visible by the glow of\ +the charcoal.\ +\ +"It's all the same to him," he muttered, turning quickly to a soldier\ +who stood behind him. "Brigand! Get away!"\ +\ +And twisting the ramrod he looked gloomily at Pierre, who turned away\ +and gazed into the darkness. A prisoner, the Russian soldier the\ +Frenchman had pushed away, was sitting near the fire patting something\ +with his hand. Looking more closely Pierre recognized the blue-gray dog,\ +sitting beside the soldier, wagging its tail.\ +\ +"Ah, he's come?" said Pierre. "And Plat-" he began, but did not finish.\ +\ +Suddenly and simultaneously a crowd of memories awoke in his fancy--of\ +the look Platon had given him as he sat under the tree, of the shot\ +heard from that spot, of the dog's howl, of the guilty faces of the two\ +Frenchmen as they ran past him, of the lowered and smoking gun, and of\ +Karataev's absence at this halt--and he was on the point of realizing\ +that Karataev had been killed, but just at that instant, he knew not\ +why, the recollection came to his mind of a summer evening he had spent\ +with a beautiful Polish lady on the veranda of his house in Kiev. And\ +without linking up the events of the day or drawing a conclusion from\ +them, Pierre closed his eyes, seeing a vision of the country in\ +summertime mingled with memories of bathing and of the liquid, vibrating\ +globe, and he sank into water so that it closed over his head.\ +\ +Before sunrise he was awakened by shouts and loud and rapid firing.\ +French soldiers were running past him.\ +\ +"The Cossacks!" one of them shouted, and a moment later a crowd of\ +Russians surrounded Pierre.\ +\ +For a long time he could not understand what was happening to him. All\ +around he heard his comrades sobbing with joy.\ +\ +"Brothers! Dear fellows! Darlings!" old soldiers exclaimed, weeping, as\ +they embraced Cossacks and hussars.\ +\ +The hussars and Cossacks crowded round the prisoners; one offered them\ +clothes, another boots, and a third bread. Pierre sobbed as he sat among\ +them and could not utter a word. He hugged the first soldier who\ +approached him, and kissed him, weeping.\ +\ +Dolokhov stood at the gate of the ruined house, letting a crowd of\ +disarmed Frenchmen pass by. The French, excited by all that had\ +happened, were talking loudly among themselves, but as they passed\ +Dolokhov who gently switched his boots with his whip and watched them\ +with cold glassy eyes that boded no good, they became silent. On the\ +opposite side stood Dolokhov's Cossack, counting the prisoners and\ +marking off each hundred with a chalk line on the gate.\ +\ +"How many?" Dolokhov asked the Cossack.\ +\ +"The second hundred," replied the Cossack.\ +\ +"Filez, filez!" * Dolokhov kept saying, having adopted this expression\ +from the French, and when his eyes met those of the prisoners they\ +flashed with a cruel light.\ +\ +\ +* "Get along, get along!"\ +\ +Denisov, bareheaded and with a gloomy face, walked behind some Cossacks\ +who were carrying the body of Petya Rostov to a hole that had been dug\ +in the garden.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XVI\ +\ +After the twenty-eighth of October when the frosts began, the flight of\ +the French assumed a still more tragic character, with men freezing, or\ +roasting themselves to death at the campfires, while carriages with\ +people dressed in furs continued to drive past, carrying away the\ +property that had been stolen by the Emperor, kings, and dukes; but the\ +process of the flight and disintegration of the French army went on\ +essentially as before.\ +\ +From Moscow to Vyazma the French army of seventy-three thousand men not\ +reckoning the Guards (who did nothing during the whole war but pillage)\ +was reduced to thirty-six thousand, though not more than five thousand\ +had fallen in battle. From this beginning the succeeding terms of the\ +progression could be determined mathematically. The French army melted\ +away and perished at the same rate from Moscow to Vyazma, from Vyazma to\ +Smolensk, from Smolensk to the Berezina, and from the Berezina to Vilna-\ +-independently of the greater or lesser intensity of the cold, the\ +pursuit, the barring of the way, or any other particular conditions.\ +Beyond Vyazma the French army instead of moving in three columns huddled\ +together into one mass, and so went on to the end. Berthier wrote to his\ +Emperor (we know how far commanding officers allow themselves to diverge\ +from the truth in describing the condition of an army) and this is what\ +he said:\ +\ +I deem it my duty to report to Your Majesty the condition of the various\ +corps I have had occasion to observe during different stages of the last\ +two or three days' march. They are almost disbanded. Scarcely a quarter\ +of the soldiers remain with the standards of their regiments, the others\ +go off by themselves in different directions hoping to find food and\ +escape discipline. In general they regard Smolensk as the place where\ +they hope to recover. During the last few days many of the men have been\ +seen to throw away their cartridges and their arms. In such a state of\ +affairs, whatever your ultimate plans may be, the interest of Your\ +Majesty's service demands that the army should be rallied at Smolensk\ +and should first of all be freed from ineffectives, such as dismounted\ +cavalry, unnecessary baggage, and artillery material that is no longer\ +in proportion to the present forces. The soldiers, who are worn out with\ +hunger and fatigue, need these supplies as well as a few days' rest.\ +Many have died these last days on the road or at the bivouacs. This\ +state of things is continually becoming worse and makes one fear that\ +unless a prompt remedy is applied the troops will no longer be under\ +control in case of an engagement.\ +\ +November 9: twenty miles from Smolensk.\ +\ +After staggering into Smolensk which seemed to them a promised land, the\ +French, searching for food, killed one another, sacked their own stores,\ +and when everything had been plundered fled farther.\ +\ +They all went without knowing whither or why they were going. Still less\ +did that genius, Napoleon, know it, for no one issued any orders to him.\ +But still he and those about him retained their old habits: wrote\ +commands, letters, reports, and orders of the day; called one another\ +sire, mon cousin, prince d'Eckmuhl, roi de Naples, and so on. But these\ +orders and reports were only on paper, nothing in them was acted upon\ +for they could not be carried out, and though they entitled one another\ +Majesties, Highnesses, or Cousins, they all felt that they were\ +miserable wretches who had done much evil for which they had now to pay.\ +And though they pretended to be concerned about the army, each was\ +thinking only of himself and of how to get away quickly and save\ +himself.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XVII\ +\ +The movements of the Russian and French armies during the campaign from\ +Moscow back to the Niemen were like those in a game of Russian\ +blindman's bluff, in which two players are blindfolded and one of them\ +occasionally rings a little bell to inform the catcher of his\ +whereabouts. First he rings his bell fearlessly, but when he gets into a\ +tight place he runs away as quietly as he can, and often thinking to\ +escape runs straight into his opponent's arms.\ +\ +At first while they were still moving along the Kaluga road, Napoleon's\ +armies made their presence known, but later when they reached the\ +Smolensk road they ran holding the clapper of their bell tight--and\ +often thinking they were escaping ran right into the Russians.\ +\ +Owing to the rapidity of the French flight and the Russian pursuit and\ +the consequent exhaustion of the horses, the chief means of\ +approximately ascertaining the enemy's position--by cavalry scouting--\ +was not available. Besides, as a result of the frequent and rapid change\ +of position by each army, even what information was obtained could not\ +be delivered in time. If news was received one day that the enemy had\ +been in a certain position the day before, by the third day when\ +something could have been done, that army was already two days' march\ +farther on and in quite another position.\ +\ +One army fled and the other pursued. Beyond Smolensk there were several\ +different roads available for the French, and one would have thought\ +that during their stay of four days they might have learned where the\ +enemy was, might have arranged some more advantageous plan and\ +undertaken something new. But after a four days' halt the mob, with no\ +maneuvers or plans, again began running along the beaten track, neither\ +to the right nor to the left but along the old--the worst--road, through\ +Krasnoe and Orsha.\ +\ +Expecting the enemy from behind and not in front, the French separated\ +in their flight and spread out over a distance of twenty-four hours. In\ +front of them all fled the Emperor, then the kings, then the dukes. The\ +Russian army, expecting Napoleon to take the road to the right beyond\ +the Dnieper--which was the only reasonable thing for him to do--\ +themselves turned to the right and came out onto the highroad at\ +Krasnoe. And here as in a game of blindman's buff the French ran into\ +our vanguard. Seeing their enemy unexpectedly the French fell into\ +confusion and stopped short from the sudden fright, but then they\ +resumed their flight, abandoning their comrades who were farther behind.\ +Then for three days separate portions of the French army--first Murat's\ +(the vice-king's), then Davout's, and then Ney's--ran, as it were, the\ +gauntlet of the Russian army. They abandoned one another, abandoned all\ +their heavy baggage, their artillery, and half their men, and fled,\ +getting past the Russians by night by making semicircles to the right.\ +\ +Ney, who came last, had been busying himself blowing up the walls of\ +Smolensk which were in nobody's way, because despite the unfortunate\ +plight of the French or because of it, they wished to punish the floor\ +against which they had hurt themselves. Ney, who had had a corps of ten\ +thousand men, reached Napoleon at Orsha with only one thousand men left,\ +having abandoned all the rest and all his cannon, and having crossed the\ +Dnieper at night by stealth at a wooded spot.\ +\ +From Orsha they fled farther along the road to Vilna, still playing at\ +blindman's buff with the pursuing army. At the Berezina they again\ +became disorganized, many were drowned and many surrendered, but those\ +who got across the river fled farther. Their supreme chief donned a fur\ +coat and, having seated himself in a sleigh, galloped on alone,\ +abandoning his companions. The others who could do so drove away too,\ +leaving those who could not to surrender or die.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XVIII\ +\ +This campaign consisted in a flight of the French during which they did\ +all they could to destroy themselves. From the time they turned onto the\ +Kaluga road to the day their leader fled from the army, none of the\ +movements of the crowd had any sense. So one might have thought that\ +regarding this period of the campaign the historians, who attributed the\ +actions of the mass to the will of one man, would have found it\ +impossible to make the story of the retreat fit their theory. But no!\ +Mountains of books have been written by the historians about this\ +campaign, and everywhere are described Napoleon's arrangements, the\ +maneuvers, and his profound plans which guided the army, as well as the\ +military genius shown by his marshals.\ +\ +The retreat from Malo-Yaroslavets when he had a free road into a well-\ +supplied district and the parallel road was open to him along which\ +Kutuzov afterwards pursued him--this unnecessary retreat along a\ +devastated road--is explained to us as being due to profound\ +considerations. Similarly profound considerations are given for his\ +retreat from Smolensk to Orsha. Then his heroism at Krasnoe is\ +described, where he is reported to have been prepared to accept battle\ +and take personal command, and to have walked about with a birch stick\ +and said:\ +\ +"J'ai assez fait l'empereur; il est temps de faire le general," * but\ +nevertheless immediately ran away again, abandoning to its fate the\ +scattered fragments of the army he left behind.\ +\ +\ +* "I have acted the Emperor long enough; it is time to act the general."\ +\ +Then we are told of the greatness of soul of the marshals, especially of\ +Ney--a greatness of soul consisting in this: that he made his way by\ +night around through the forest and across the Dnieper and escaped to\ +Orsha, abandoning standards, artillery, and nine tenths of his men.\ +\ +And lastly, the final departure of the great Emperor from his heroic\ +army is presented to us by the historians as something great and\ +characteristic of genius. Even that final running away, described in\ +ordinary language as the lowest depth of baseness which every child is\ +taught to be ashamed of--even that act finds justification in the\ +historians' language.\ +\ +When it is impossible to stretch the very elastic threads of historical\ +ratiocination any farther, when actions are clearly contrary to all that\ +humanity calls right or even just, the historians produce a saving\ +conception of "greatness." "Greatness," it seems, excludes the standards\ +of right and wrong. For the "great" man nothing is wrong, there is no\ +atrocity for which a "great" man can be blamed.\ +\ +"C'est grand!" * say the historians, and there no longer exists either\ +good or evil but only "grand" and "not grand." Grand is good, not grand\ +is bad. Grand is the characteristic, in their conception, of some\ +special animals called "heroes." And Napoleon, escaping home in a warm\ +fur coat and leaving to perish those who were not merely his comrades\ +but were (in his opinion) men he had brought there, feels que c'est\ +grand, *(2) and his soul is tranquil.\ +\ +\ +* "It is great."\ +\ +* (2) That it is great.\ +\ +"Du sublime (he saw something sublime in himself) au ridicule il n'y a\ +qu'un pas," * said he. And the whole world for fifty years has been\ +repeating: "Sublime! Grand! Napoleon le Grand!" Du sublime au ridicule\ +il n'y a qu'un pas.\ +\ +\ +* "From the sublime to the ridiculous is but a step."\ +\ +And it occurs to no one that to admit a greatness not commensurable with\ +the standard of right and wrong is merely to admit one's own nothingness\ +and immeasurable meanness.\ +\ +For us with the standard of good and evil given us by Christ, no human\ +actions are incommensurable. And there is no greatness where simplicity,\ +goodness, and truth are absent.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XIX\ +\ +What Russian, reading the account of the last part of the campaign of\ +1812, has not experienced an uncomfortable feeling of regret,\ +dissatisfaction, and perplexity? Who has not asked himself how it is\ +that the French were not all captured or destroyed when our three armies\ +surrounded them in superior numbers, when the disordered French, hungry\ +and freezing, surrendered in crowds, and when (as the historians relate)\ +the aim of the Russians was to stop the French, to cut them off, and\ +capture them all?\ +\ +How was it that the Russian army, which when numerically weaker than the\ +French had given battle at Borodino, did not achieve its purpose when it\ +had surrounded the French on three sides and when its aim was to capture\ +them? Can the French be so enormously superior to us that when we had\ +surrounded them with superior forces we could not beat them? How could\ +that happen?\ +\ +History (or what is called by that name) replying to these questions\ +says that this occurred because Kutuzov and Tormasov and Chichagov, and\ +this man and that man, did not execute such and such maneuvers...\ +\ +But why did they not execute those maneuvers? And why if they were\ +guilty of not carrying out a prearranged plan were they not tried and\ +punished? But even if we admitted that Kutuzov, Chichagov, and others\ +were the cause of the Russian failures, it is still incomprehensible\ +why, the position of the Russian army being what it was at Krasnoe and\ +at the Berezina (in both cases we had superior forces), the French army\ +with its marshals, kings, and Emperor was not captured, if that was what\ +the Russians aimed at.\ +\ +The explanation of this strange fact given by Russian military\ +historians (to the effect that Kutuzov hindered an attack) is unfounded,\ +for we know that he could not restrain the troops from attacking at\ +Vyazma and Tarutino.\ +\ +Why was the Russian army--which with inferior forces had withstood the\ +enemy in full strength at Borodino--defeated at Krasnoe and the Berezina\ +by the disorganized crowds of the French when it was numerically\ +superior?\ +\ +If the aim of the Russians consisted in cutting off and capturing\ +Napoleon and his marshals--and that aim was not merely frustrated but\ +all attempts to attain it were most shamefully baffled--then this last\ +period of the campaign is quite rightly considered by the French to be a\ +series of victories, and quite wrongly considered victorious by Russian\ +historians.\ +\ +The Russian military historians in so far as they submit to claims of\ +logic must admit that conclusion, and in spite of their lyrical\ +rhapsodies about valor, devotion, and so forth, must reluctantly admit\ +that the French retreat from Moscow was a series of victories for\ +Napoleon and defeats for Kutuzov.\ +\ +But putting national vanity entirely aside one feels that such a\ +conclusion involves a contradiction, since the series of French\ +victories brought the French complete destruction, while the series of\ +Russian defeats led to the total destruction of their enemy and the\ +liberation of their country.\ +\ +The source of this contradiction lies in the fact that the historians\ +studying the events from the letters of the sovereigns and the generals,\ +from memoirs, reports, projects, and so forth, have attributed to this\ +last period of the war of 1812 an aim that never existed, namely that of\ +cutting off and capturing Napoleon with his marshals and his army.\ +\ +There never was or could have been such an aim, for it would have been\ +senseless and its attainment quite impossible.\ +\ +It would have been senseless, first because Napoleon's disorganized army\ +was flying from Russia with all possible speed, that is to say, was\ +doing just what every Russian desired. So what was the use of performing\ +various operations on the French who were running away as fast as they\ +possibly could?\ +\ +Secondly, it would have been senseless to block the passage of men whose\ +whole energy was directed to flight.\ +\ +Thirdly, it would have been senseless to sacrifice one's own troops in\ +order to destroy the French army, which without external interference\ +was destroying itself at such a rate that, though its path was not\ +blocked, it could not carry across the frontier more than it actually\ +did in December, namely a hundredth part of the original army.\ +\ +Fourthly, it would have been senseless to wish to take captive the\ +Emperor, kings, and dukes--whose capture would have been in the highest\ +degree embarrassing for the Russians, as the most adroit diplomatists of\ +the time (Joseph de Maistre and others) recognized. Still more senseless\ +would have been the wish to capture army corps of the French, when our\ +own army had melted away to half before reaching Krasnoe and a whole\ +division would have been needed to convoy the corps of prisoners, and\ +when our men were not always getting full rations and the prisoners\ +already taken were perishing of hunger.\ +\ +All the profound plans about cutting off and capturing Napoleon and his\ +army were like the plan of a market gardener who, when driving out of\ +his garden a cow that had trampled down the beds he had planted, should\ +run to the gate and hit the cow on the head. The only thing to be said\ +in excuse of that gardener would be that he was very angry. But not even\ +that could be said for those who drew up this project, for it was not\ +they who had suffered from the trampled beds.\ +\ +But besides the fact that cutting off Napoleon with his army would have\ +been senseless, it was impossible.\ +\ +It was impossible first because--as experience shows that a three-mile\ +movement of columns on a battlefield never coincides with the plans--the\ +probability of Chichagov, Kutuzov, and Wittgenstein effecting a junction\ +on time at an appointed place was so remote as to be tantamount to\ +impossibility, as in fact thought Kutuzov, who when he received the plan\ +remarked that diversions planned over great distances do not yield the\ +desired results.\ +\ +Secondly it was impossible, because to paralyze the momentum with which\ +Napoleon's army was retiring, incomparably greater forces than the\ +Russians possessed would have been required.\ +\ +Thirdly it was impossible, because the military term "to cut off" has no\ +meaning. One can cut off a slice of bread, but not an army. To cut off\ +an army--to bar its road--is quite impossible, for there is always\ +plenty of room to avoid capture and there is the night when nothing can\ +be seen, as the military scientists might convince themselves by the\ +example of Krasnoe and of the Berezina. It is only possible to capture\ +prisoners if they agree to be captured, just as it is only possible to\ +catch a swallow if it settles on one's hand. Men can only be taken\ +prisoners if they surrender according to the rules of strategy and\ +tactics, as the Germans did. But the French troops quite rightly did not\ +consider that this suited them, since death by hunger and cold awaited\ +them in flight or captivity alike.\ +\ +Fourthly and chiefly it was impossible, because never since the world\ +began has a war been fought under such conditions as those that obtained\ +in 1812, and the Russian army in its pursuit of the French strained its\ +strength to the utmost and could not have done more without destroying\ +itself.\ +\ +During the movement of the Russian army from Tarutino to Krasnoe it lost\ +fifty thousand sick or stragglers, that is a number equal to the\ +population of a large provincial town. Half the men fell out of the army\ +without a battle.\ +\ +And it is of this period of the campaign--when the army lacked boots and\ +sheepskin coats, was short of provisions and without vodka, and was\ +camping out at night for months in the snow with fifteen degrees of\ +frost, when there were only seven or eight hours of daylight and the\ +rest was night in which the influence of discipline cannot be\ +maintained, when men were taken into that region of death where\ +discipline fails, not for a few hours only as in a battle, but for\ +months, where they were every moment fighting death from hunger and\ +cold, when half the army perished in a single month--it is of this\ +period of the campaign that the historians tell us how Miloradovich\ +should have made a flank march to such and such a place, Tormasov to\ +another place, and Chichagov should have crossed (more than knee-deep in\ +snow) to somewhere else, and how so-and-so "routed" and "cut off" the\ +French and so on and so on.\ +\ +The Russians, half of whom died, did all that could and should have been\ +done to attain an end worthy of the nation, and they are not to blame\ +because other Russians, sitting in warm rooms, proposed that they should\ +do what was impossible.\ +\ +All that strange contradiction now difficult to understand between the\ +facts and the historical accounts only arises because the historians\ +dealing with the matter have written the history of the beautiful words\ +and sentiments of various generals, and not the history of the events.\ +\ +To them the words of Miloradovich seem very interesting, and so do their\ +surmises and the rewards this or that general received; but the question\ +of those fifty thousand men who were left in hospitals and in graves\ +does not even interest them, for it does not come within the range of\ +their investigation.\ +\ +Yet one need only discard the study of the reports and general plans and\ +consider the movement of those hundreds of thousands of men who took a\ +direct part in the events, and all the questions that seemed insoluble\ +easily and simply receive an immediate and certain solution.\ +\ +The aim of cutting off Napoleon and his army never existed except in the\ +imaginations of a dozen people. It could not exist because it was\ +senseless and unattainable.\ +\ +The people had a single aim: to free their land from invasion. That aim\ +was attained in the first place of itself, as the French ran away, and\ +so it was only necessary not to stop their flight. Secondly it was\ +attained by the guerrilla warfare which was destroying the French, and\ +thirdly by the fact that a large Russian army was following the French,\ +ready to use its strength in case their movement stopped.\ +\ +The Russian army had to act like a whip to a running animal. And the\ +experienced driver knew it was better to hold the whip raised as a\ +menace than to strike the running animal on the head.\ +\ +BOOK FIFTEEN: 1812 - 13\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER I\ +\ +When seeing a dying animal a man feels a sense of horror: substance\ +similar to his own is perishing before his eyes. But when it is a\ +beloved and intimate human being that is dying, besides this horror at\ +the extinction of life there is a severance, a spiritual wound, which\ +like a physical wound is sometimes fatal and sometimes heals, but always\ +aches and shrinks at any external irritating touch.\ +\ +After Prince Andrew's death Natasha and Princess Mary alike felt this.\ +Drooping in spirit and closing their eyes before the menacing cloud of\ +death that overhung them, they dared not look life in the face. They\ +carefully guarded their open wounds from any rough and painful contact.\ +Everything: a carriage passing rapidly in the street, a summons to\ +dinner, the maid's inquiry what dress to prepare, or worse still any\ +word of insincere or feeble sympathy, seemed an insult, painfully\ +irritated the wound, interrupting that necessary quiet in which they\ +both tried to listen to the stern and dreadful choir that still\ +resounded in their imagination, and hindered their gazing into those\ +mysterious limitless vistas that for an instant had opened out before\ +them.\ +\ +Only when alone together were they free from such outrage and pain. They\ +spoke little even to one another, and when they did it was of very\ +unimportant matters.\ +\ +Both avoided any allusion to the future. To admit the possibility of a\ +future seemed to them to insult his memory. Still more carefully did\ +they avoid anything relating to him who was dead. It seemed to them that\ +what they had lived through and experienced could not be expressed in\ +words, and that any reference to the details of his life infringed the\ +majesty and sacredness of the mystery that had been accomplished before\ +their eyes.\ +\ +Continued abstention from speech, and constant avoidance of everything\ +that might lead up to the subject--this halting on all sides at the\ +boundary of what they might not mention--brought before their minds with\ +still greater purity and clearness what they were both feeling.\ +\ +But pure and complete sorrow is as impossible as pure and complete joy.\ +Princess Mary, in her position as absolute and independent arbiter of\ +her own fate and guardian and instructor of her nephew, was the first to\ +be called back to life from that realm of sorrow in which she had dwelt\ +for the first fortnight. She received letters from her relations to\ +which she had to reply; the room in which little Nicholas had been put\ +was damp and he began to cough; Alpatych came to Yaroslavl with reports\ +on the state of their affairs and with advice and suggestions that they\ +should return to Moscow to the house on the Vozdvizhenka Street, which\ +had remained uninjured and needed only slight repairs. Life did not\ +stand still and it was necessary to live. Hard as it was for Princess\ +Mary to emerge from the realm of secluded contemplation in which she had\ +lived till then, and sorry and almost ashamed as she felt to leave\ +Natasha alone, yet the cares of life demanded her attention and she\ +involuntarily yielded to them. She went through the accounts with\ +Alpatych, conferred with Dessalles about her nephew, and gave orders and\ +made preparations for the journey to Moscow.\ +\ +Natasha remained alone and, from the time Princess Mary began making\ +preparations for departure, held aloof from her too.\ +\ +Princess Mary asked the countess to let Natasha go with her to Moscow,\ +and both parents gladly accepted this offer, for they saw their daughter\ +losing strength every day and thought that a change of scene and the\ +advice of Moscow doctors would be good for her.\ +\ +"I am not going anywhere," Natasha replied when this was proposed to\ +her. "Do please just leave me alone!" And she ran out of the room, with\ +difficulty refraining from tears of vexation and irritation rather than\ +of sorrow.\ +\ +After she felt herself deserted by Princes Mary and alone in her grief,\ +Natasha spent most of the time in her room by herself, sitting huddled\ +up feet and all in the corner of the sofa, tearing and twisting\ +something with her slender nervous fingers and gazing intently and\ +fixedly at whatever her eyes chanced to fall on. This solitude exhausted\ +and tormented her but she was in absolute need of it. As soon as anyone\ +entered she got up quickly, changed her position and expression, and\ +picked up a book or some sewing, evidently waiting impatiently for the\ +intruder to go.\ +\ +She felt all the time as if she might at any moment penetrate that on\ +which--with a terrible questioning too great for her strength--her\ +spiritual gaze was fixed.\ +\ +One day toward the end of December Natasha, pale and thin, dressed in a\ +black woolen gown, her plaited hair negligently twisted into a knot, was\ +crouched feet and all in the corner of her sofa, nervously crumpling and\ +smoothing out the end of her sash while she looked at a corner of the\ +door.\ +\ +She was gazing in the direction in which he had gone--to the other side\ +of life. And that other side of life, of which she had never before\ +thought and which had formerly seemed to her so far away and improbable,\ +was now nearer and more akin and more comprehensible than this side of\ +life, where everything was either emptiness and desolation or suffering\ +and indignity.\ +\ +She was gazing where she knew him to be; but she could not imagine him\ +otherwise than as he had been here. She now saw him again as he had been\ +at Mytishchi, at Troitsa, and at Yaroslavl.\ +\ +She saw his face, heard his voice, repeated his words and her own, and\ +sometimes devised other words they might have spoken.\ +\ +There he is lying back in an armchair in his velvet cloak, leaning his\ +head on his thin pale hand. His chest is dreadfully hollow and his\ +shoulders raised. His lips are firmly closed, his eyes glitter, and a\ +wrinkle comes and goes on his pale forehead. One of his legs twitches\ +just perceptibly, but rapidly. Natasha knows that he is struggling with\ +terrible pain. "What is that pain like? Why does he have that pain? What\ +does he feel? How does it hurt him?" thought Natasha. He noticed her\ +watching him, raised his eyes, and began to speak seriously:\ +\ +"One thing would be terrible," said he: "to bind oneself forever to a\ +suffering man. It would be continual torture." And he looked searchingly\ +at her. Natasha as usual answered before she had time to think what she\ +would say. She said: "This can't go on--it won't. You will get well--\ +quite well."\ +\ +She now saw him from the commencement of that scene and relived what she\ +had then felt. She recalled his long sad and severe look at those words\ +and understood the meaning of the rebuke and despair in that protracted\ +gaze.\ +\ +"I agreed," Natasha now said to herself, "that it would be dreadful if\ +he always continued to suffer. I said it then only because it would have\ +been dreadful for him, but he understood it differently. He thought it\ +would be dreadful for me. He then still wished to live and feared death.\ +And I said it so awkwardly and stupidly! I did not say what I meant. I\ +thought quite differently. Had I said what I thought, I should have\ +said: even if he had to go on dying, to die continually before my eyes,\ +I should have been happy compared with what I am now. Now there is\ +nothing... nobody. Did he know that? No, he did not and never will know\ +it. And now it will never, never be possible to put it right." And now\ +he again seemed to be saying the same words to her, only in her\ +imagination Natasha this time gave him a different answer. She stopped\ +him and said: "Terrible for you, but not for me! You know that for me\ +there is nothing in life but you, and to suffer with you is the greatest\ +happiness for me," and he took her hand and pressed it as he had pressed\ +it that terrible evening four days before his death. And in her\ +imagination she said other tender and loving words which she might have\ +said then but only spoke now: "I love thee!... thee! I love, love..."\ +she said, convulsively pressing her hands and setting her teeth with a\ +desperate effort...\ +\ +She was overcome by sweet sorrow and tears were already rising in her\ +eyes; then she suddenly asked herself to whom she was saying this. Again\ +everything was shrouded in hard, dry perplexity, and again with a\ +strained frown she peered toward the world where he was. And now, now it\ +seemed to her she was penetrating the mystery.... But at the instant\ +when it seemed that the incomprehensible was revealing itself to her a\ +loud rattle of the door handle struck painfully on her ears. Dunyasha,\ +her maid, entered the room quickly and abruptly with a frightened look\ +on her face and showing no concern for her mistress.\ +\ +"Come to your Papa at once, please!" said she with a strange, excited\ +look. "A misfortune... about Peter Ilynich... a letter," she finished\ +with a sob.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER II\ +\ +Besides a feeling of aloofness from everybody Natasha was feeling a\ +special estrangement from the members of her own family. All of them--\ +her father, mother, and Sonya--were so near to her, so familiar, so\ +commonplace, that all their words and feelings seemed an insult to the\ +world in which she had been living of late, and she felt not merely\ +indifferent to them but regarded them with hostility. She heard\ +Dunyasha's words about Peter Ilynich and a misfortune, but did not grasp\ +them.\ +\ +"What misfortune? What misfortune can happen to them? They just live\ +their own old, quiet, and commonplace life," thought Natasha.\ +\ +As she entered the ballroom her father was hurriedly coming out of her\ +mother's room. His face was puckered up and wet with tears. He had\ +evidently run out of that room to give vent to the sobs that were\ +choking him. When he saw Natasha he waved his arms despairingly and\ +burst into convulsively painful sobs that distorted his soft round face.\ +\ +"Pe... Petya... Go, go, she... is calling..." and weeping like a child\ +and quickly shuffling on his feeble legs to a chair, he almost fell into\ +it, covering his face with his hands.\ +\ +Suddenly an electric shock seemed to run through Natasha's whole being.\ +Terrible anguish struck her heart, she felt a dreadful ache as if\ +something was being torn inside her and she were dying. But the pain was\ +immediately followed by a feeling of release from the oppressive\ +constraint that had prevented her taking part in life. The sight of her\ +father, the terribly wild cries of her mother that she heard through the\ +door, made her immediately forget herself and her own grief.\ +\ +She ran to her father, but he feebly waved his arm, pointing to her\ +mother's door. Princess Mary, pale and with quivering chin, came out\ +from that room and taking Natasha by the arm said something to her.\ +Natasha neither saw nor heard her. She went in with rapid steps, pausing\ +at the door for an instant as if struggling with herself, and then ran\ +to her mother.\ +\ +The countess was lying in an armchair in a strange and awkward position,\ +stretching out and beating her head against the wall. Sonya and the\ +maids were holding her arms.\ +\ +"Natasha! Natasha!..." cried the countess. "It's not true... it's not\ +true... He's lying... Natasha!" she shrieked, pushing those around her\ +away. "Go away, all of you; it's not true! Killed!... ha, ha, ha!...\ +It's not true!"\ +\ +Natasha put one knee on the armchair, stooped over her mother, embraced\ +her, and with unexpected strength raised her, turned her face toward\ +herself, and clung to her.\ +\ +"Mummy!... darling!... I am here, my dearest Mummy," she kept on\ +whispering, not pausing an instant.\ +\ +She did not let go of her mother but struggled tenderly with her,\ +demanded a pillow and hot water, and unfastened and tore open her\ +mother's dress.\ +\ +"My dearest darling... Mummy, my precious!..." she whispered\ +incessantly, kissing her head, her hands, her face, and feeling her own\ +irrepressible and streaming tears tickling her nose and cheeks.\ +\ +The countess pressed her daughter's hand, closed her eyes, and became\ +quiet for a moment. Suddenly she sat up with unaccustomed swiftness,\ +glanced vacantly around her, and seeing Natasha began to press her\ +daughter's head with all her strength. Then she turned toward her\ +daughter's face which was wincing with pain and gazed long at it.\ +\ +"Natasha, you love me?" she said in a soft trustful whisper. "Natasha,\ +you would not deceive me? You'll tell me the whole truth?"\ +\ +Natasha looked at her with eyes full of tears and in her look there was\ +nothing but love and an entreaty for forgiveness.\ +\ +"My darling Mummy!" she repeated, straining all the power of her love to\ +find some way of taking on herself the excess of grief that crushed her\ +mother.\ +\ +And again in a futile struggle with reality her mother, refusing to\ +believe that she could live when her beloved boy was killed in the bloom\ +of life, escaped from reality into a world of delirium.\ +\ +Natasha did not remember how that day passed nor that night, nor the\ +next day and night. She did not sleep and did not leave her mother. Her\ +persevering and patient love seemed completely to surround the countess\ +every moment, not explaining or consoling, but recalling her to life.\ +\ +During the third night the countess kept very quiet for a few minutes,\ +and Natasha rested her head on the arm of her chair and closed her eyes,\ +but opened them again on hearing the bedstead creak. The countess was\ +sitting up in bed and speaking softly.\ +\ +"How glad I am you have come. You are tired. Won't you have some tea?"\ +Natasha went up to her. "You have improved in looks and grown more\ +manly," continued the countess, taking her daughter's hand.\ +\ +"Mamma! What are you saying..."\ +\ +"Natasha, he is no more, no more!"\ +\ +And embracing her daughter, the countess began to weep for the first\ +time.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER III\ +\ +Princess Mary postponed her departure. Sonya and the count tried to\ +replace Natasha but could not. They saw that she alone was able to\ +restrain her mother from unreasoning despair. For three weeks Natasha\ +remained constantly at her mother's side, sleeping on a lounge chair in\ +her room, making her eat and drink, and talking to her incessantly\ +because the mere sound of her tender, caressing tones soothed her\ +mother.\ +\ +The mother's wounded spirit could not heal. Petya's death had torn from\ +her half her life. When the news of Petya's death had come she had been\ +a fresh and vigorous woman of fifty, but a month later she left her room\ +a listless old woman taking no interest in life. But the same blow that\ +almost killed the countess, this second blow, restored Natasha to life.\ +\ +A spiritual wound produced by a rending of the spiritual body is like a\ +physical wound and, strange as it may seem, just as a deep wound may\ +heal and its edges join, physical and spiritual wounds alike can yet\ +heal completely only as the result of a vital force from within.\ +\ +Natasha's wound healed in that way. She thought her life was ended, but\ +her love for her mother unexpectedly showed her that the essence of\ +life--love--was still active within her. Love awoke and so did life.\ +\ +Prince Andrew's last days had bound Princess Mary and Natasha together;\ +this new sorrow brought them still closer to one another. Princess Mary\ +put off her departure, and for three weeks looked after Natasha as if\ +she had been a sick child. The last weeks passed in her mother's bedroom\ +had strained Natasha's physical strength.\ +\ +One afternoon noticing Natasha shivering with fever, Princess Mary took\ +her to her own room and made her lie down on the bed. Natasha lay down,\ +but when Princess Mary had drawn the blinds and was going away she\ +called her back.\ +\ +"I don't want to sleep, Mary, sit by me a little."\ +\ +"You are tired--try to sleep."\ +\ +"No, no. Why did you bring me away? She will be asking for me."\ +\ +"She is much better. She spoke so well today," said Princess Mary.\ +\ +Natasha lay on the bed and in the semidarkness of the room scanned\ +Princess Mary's face.\ +\ +"Is she like him?" thought Natasha. "Yes, like and yet not like. But she\ +is quite original, strange, new, and unknown. And she loves me. What is\ +in her heart? All that is good. But how? What is her mind like? What\ +does she think about me? Yes, she is splendid!"\ +\ +"Mary," she said timidly, drawing Princess Mary's hand to herself,\ +"Mary, you mustn't think me wicked. No? Mary darling, how I love you!\ +Let us be quite, quite friends."\ +\ +And Natasha, embracing her, began kissing her face and hands, making\ +Princess Mary feel shy but happy by this demonstration of her feelings.\ +\ +From that day a tender and passionate friendship such as exists only\ +between women was established between Princess Mary and Natasha. They\ +were continually kissing and saying tender things to one another and\ +spent most of their time together. When one went out the other became\ +restless and hastened to rejoin her. Together they felt more in harmony\ +with one another than either of them felt with herself when alone. A\ +feeling stronger than friendship sprang up between them; an exclusive\ +feeling of life being possible only in each other's presence.\ +\ +Sometimes they were silent for hours; sometimes after they were already\ +in bed they would begin talking and go on till morning. They spoke most\ +of what was long past. Princess Mary spoke of her childhood, of her\ +mother, her father, and her daydreams; and Natasha, who with a passive\ +lack of understanding had formerly turned away from that life of\ +devotion, submission, and the poetry of Christian self-sacrifice, now\ +feeling herself bound to Princess Mary by affection, learned to love her\ +past too and to understand a side of life previously incomprehensible to\ +her. She did not think of applying submission and self-abnegation to her\ +own life, for she was accustomed to seek other joys, but she understood\ +and loved in another those previously incomprehensible virtues. For\ +Princess Mary, listening to Natasha's tales of childhood and early\ +youth, there also opened out a new and hitherto uncomprehended side of\ +life: belief in life and its enjoyment.\ +\ +Just as before, they never mentioned him so as not to lower (as they\ +thought) their exalted feelings by words; but this silence about him had\ +the effect of making them gradually begin to forget him without being\ +conscious of it.\ +\ +Natasha had grown thin and pale and physically so weak that they all\ +talked about her health, and this pleased her. But sometimes she was\ +suddenly overcome by fear not only of death but of sickness, weakness,\ +and loss of good looks, and involuntarily she examined her bare arm\ +carefully, surprised at its thinness, and in the morning noticed her\ +drawn and, as it seemed to her, piteous face in her glass. It seemed to\ +her that things must be so, and yet it was dreadfully sad.\ +\ +One day she went quickly upstairs and found herself out of breath.\ +Unconsciously she immediately invented a reason for going down, and\ +then, testing her strength, ran upstairs again, observing the result.\ +\ +Another time when she called Dunyasha her voice trembled, so she called\ +again--though she could hear Dunyasha coming--called her in the deep\ +chest tones in which she had been wont to sing, and listened attentively\ +to herself.\ +\ +She did not know and would not have believed it, but beneath the layer\ +of slime that covered her soul and seemed to her impenetrable, delicate\ +young shoots of grass were already sprouting, which taking root would so\ +cover with their living verdure the grief that weighed her down that it\ +would soon no longer be seen or noticed. The wound had begun to heal\ +from within.\ +\ +At the end of January Princess Mary left for Moscow, and the count\ +insisted on Natasha's going with her to consult the doctors.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER IV\ +\ +After the encounter at Vyazma, where Kutuzov had been unable to hold\ +back his troops in their anxiety to overwhelm and cut off the enemy and\ +so on, the farther movement of the fleeing French, and of the Russians\ +who pursued them, continued as far as Krasnoe without a battle. The\ +flight was so rapid that the Russian army pursuing the French could not\ +keep up with them; cavalry and artillery horses broke down, and the\ +information received of the movements of the French was never reliable.\ +\ +The men in the Russian army were so worn out by this continuous marching\ +at the rate of twenty-seven miles a day that they could not go any\ +faster.\ +\ +To realize the degree of exhaustion of the Russian army it is only\ +necessary to grasp clearly the meaning of the fact that, while not\ +losing more than five thousand killed and wounded after Tarutino and\ +less than a hundred prisoners, the Russian army which left that place a\ +hundred thousand strong reached Krasnoe with only fifty thousand.\ +\ +The rapidity of the Russian pursuit was just as destructive to our army\ +as the flight of the French was to theirs. The only difference was that\ +the Russian army moved voluntarily, with no such threat of destruction\ +as hung over the French, and that the sick Frenchmen were left behind in\ +enemy hands while the sick Russians left behind were among their own\ +people. The chief cause of the wastage of Napoleon's army was the\ +rapidity of its movement, and a convincing proof of this is the\ +corresponding decrease of the Russian army.\ +\ +Kutuzov as far as was in his power, instead of trying to check the\ +movement of the French as was desired in Petersburg and by the Russian\ +army generals, directed his whole activity here, as he had done at\ +Tarutino and Vyazma, to hastening it on while easing the movement of our\ +army.\ +\ +But besides this, since the exhaustion and enormous diminution of the\ +army caused by the rapidity of the advance had become evident, another\ +reason for slackening the pace and delaying presented itself to Kutuzov.\ +The aim of the Russian army was to pursue the French. The road the\ +French would take was unknown, and so the closer our troops trod on\ +their heels the greater distance they had to cover. Only by following at\ +some distance could one cut across the zigzag path of the French. All\ +the artful maneuvers suggested by our generals meant fresh movements of\ +the army and a lengthening of its marches, whereas the only reasonable\ +aim was to shorten those marches. To that end Kutuzov's activity was\ +directed during the whole campaign from Moscow to Vilna--not casually or\ +intermittently but so consistently that he never once deviated from it.\ +\ +Kutuzov felt and knew--not by reasoning or science but with the whole of\ +his Russian being--what every Russian soldier felt: that the French were\ +beaten, that the enemy was flying and must be driven out; but at the\ +same time he like the soldiers realized all the hardship of this march,\ +the rapidity of which was unparalleled for such a time of the year.\ +\ +But to the generals, especially the foreign ones in the Russian army,\ +who wished to distinguish themselves, to astonish somebody, and for some\ +reason to capture a king or a duke--it seemed that now--when any battle\ +must be horrible and senseless--was the very time to fight and conquer\ +somebody. Kutuzov merely shrugged his shoulders when one after another\ +they presented projects of maneuvers to be made with those soldiers--\ +ill-shod, insufficiently clad, and half starved--who within a month and\ +without fighting a battle had dwindled to half their number, and who at\ +the best if the flight continued would have to go a greater distance\ +than they had already traversed, before they reached the frontier.\ +\ +This longing to distinguish themselves, to maneuver, to overthrow, and\ +to cut off showed itself particularly whenever the Russians stumbled on\ +the French army.\ +\ +So it was at Krasnoe, where they expected to find one of the three\ +French columns and stumbled instead on Napoleon himself with sixteen\ +thousand men. Despite all Kutuzov's efforts to avoid that ruinous\ +encounter and to preserve his troops, the massacre of the broken mob of\ +French soldiers by worn-out Russians continued at Krasnoe for three\ +days.\ +\ +Toll wrote a disposition: "The first column will march to so and so,"\ +etc. And as usual nothing happened in accord with the disposition.\ +Prince Eugene of Wurttemberg fired from a hill over the French crowds\ +that were running past, and demanded reinforcements which did not\ +arrive. The French, avoiding the Russians, dispersed and hid themselves\ +in the forest by night, making their way round as best they could, and\ +continued their flight.\ +\ +Miloradovich, who said he did not want to know anything about the\ +commissariat affairs of his detachment, and could never be found when he\ +was wanted--that chevalier sans peur et sans reproche * as he styled\ +himself--who was fond of parleys with the French, sent envoys demanding\ +their surrender, wasted time, and did not do what he was ordered to do.\ +\ +\ +* Knight without fear and without reproach.\ +\ +"I give you that column, lads," he said, riding up to the troops and\ +pointing out the French to the cavalry.\ +\ +And the cavalry, with spurs and sabers urging on horses that could\ +scarcely move, trotted with much effort to the column presented to them-\ +-that is to say, to a crowd of Frenchmen stark with cold, frost-bitten,\ +and starving--and the column that had been presented to them threw down\ +its arms and surrendered as it had long been anxious to do.\ +\ +At Krasnoe they took twenty-six thousand prisoners, several hundred\ +cannon, and a stick called a "marshal's staff," and disputed as to who\ +had distinguished himself and were pleased with their achievement--\ +though they much regretted not having taken Napoleon, or at least a\ +marshal or a hero of some sort, and reproached one another and\ +especially Kutuzov for having failed to do so.\ +\ +These men, carried away by their passions, were but blind tools of the\ +most melancholy law of necessity, but considered themselves heroes and\ +imagined that they were accomplishing a most noble and honorable deed.\ +They blamed Kutuzov and said that from the very beginning of the\ +campaign he had prevented their vanquishing Napoleon, that he thought of\ +nothing but satisfying his passions and would not advance from the Linen\ +Factories because he was comfortable there, that at Krasnoe he checked\ +the advance because on learning that Napoleon was there he had quite\ +lost his head, and that it was probable that he had an understanding\ +with Napoleon and had been bribed by him, and so on, and so on.\ +\ +Not only did his contemporaries, carried away by their passions, talk in\ +this way, but posterity and history have acclaimed Napoleon as grand,\ +while Kutuzov is described by foreigners as a crafty, dissolute, weak\ +old courtier, and by Russians as something indefinite--a sort of puppet\ +useful only because he had a Russian name.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER V\ +\ +In 1812 and 1813 Kutuzov was openly accused of blundering. The Emperor\ +was dissatisfied with him. And in a history recently written by order of\ +the Highest Authorities it is said that Kutuzov was a cunning court\ +liar, frightened of the name of Napoleon, and that by his blunders at\ +Krasnoe and the Berezina he deprived the Russian army of the glory of\ +complete victory over the French. *\ +\ +\ +* History of the year 1812. The character of Kutuzov and reflections on\ +the unsatisfactory results of the battles at Krasnoe, by Bogdanovich.\ +\ +Such is the fate not of great men (grands hommes) whom the Russian mind\ +does not acknowledge, but of those rare and always solitary individuals\ +who, discerning the will of Providence, submit their personal will to\ +it. The hatred and contempt of the crowd punish such men for discerning\ +the higher laws.\ +\ +For Russian historians, strange and terrible to say, Napoleon--that most\ +insignificant tool of history who never anywhere, even in exile, showed\ +human dignity--Napoleon is the object of adulation and enthusiasm; he is\ +grand. But Kutuzov--the man who from the beginning to the end of his\ +activity in 1812, never once swerving by word or deed from Borodino to\ +Vilna, presented an example exceptional in history of self-sacrifice and\ +a present consciousness of the future importance of what was happening--\ +Kutuzov seems to them something indefinite and pitiful, and when\ +speaking of him and of the year 1812 they always seem a little ashamed.\ +\ +And yet it is difficult to imagine an historical character whose\ +activity was so unswervingly directed to a single aim; and it would be\ +difficult to imagine any aim more worthy or more consonant with the will\ +of the whole people. Still more difficult would it be to find an\ +instance in history of the aim of an historical personage being so\ +completely accomplished as that to which all Kutuzov's efforts were\ +directed in 1812.\ +\ +Kutuzov never talked of "forty centuries looking down from the\ +Pyramids," of the sacrifices he offered for the fatherland, or of what\ +he intended to accomplish or had accomplished; in general he said\ +nothing about himself, adopted no pose, always appeared to be the\ +simplest and most ordinary of men, and said the simplest and most\ +ordinary things. He wrote letters to his daughters and to Madame de\ +Stael, read novels, liked the society of pretty women, jested with\ +generals, officers, and soldiers, and never contradicted those who tried\ +to prove anything to him. When Count Rostopchin at the Yauza bridge\ +galloped up to Kutuzov with personal reproaches for having caused the\ +destruction of Moscow, and said: "How was it you promised not to abandon\ +Moscow without a battle?" Kutuzov replied: "And I shall not abandon\ +Moscow without a battle," though Moscow was then already abandoned. When\ +Arakcheev, coming to him from the Emperor, said that Ermolov ought to be\ +appointed chief of the artillery, Kutuzov replied: "Yes, I was just\ +saying so myself," though a moment before he had said quite the\ +contrary. What did it matter to him--who then alone amid a senseless\ +crowd understood the whole tremendous significance of what was\ +happening--what did it matter to him whether Rostopchin attributed the\ +calamities of Moscow to him or to himself? Still less could it matter to\ +him who was appointed chief of the artillery.\ +\ +Not merely in these cases but continually did that old man--who by\ +experience of life had reached the conviction that thoughts and the\ +words serving as their expression are not what move people--use quite\ +meaningless words that happened to enter his head.\ +\ +But that man, so heedless of his words, did not once during the whole\ +time of his activity utter one word inconsistent with the single aim\ +toward which he moved throughout the whole war. Obviously in spite of\ +himself, in very diverse circumstances, he repeatedly expressed his real\ +thoughts with the bitter conviction that he would not be understood.\ +Beginning with the battle of Borodino, from which time his disagreement\ +with those about him began, he alone said that the battle of Borodino\ +was a victory, and repeated this both verbally and in his dispatches and\ +reports up to the time of his death. He alone said that the loss of\ +Moscow is not the loss of Russia. In reply to Lauriston's proposal of\ +peace, he said: There can be no peace, for such is the people's will. He\ +alone during the retreat of the French said that all our maneuvers are\ +useless, everything is being accomplished of itself better than we could\ +desire; that the enemy must be offered "a golden bridge"; that neither\ +the Tarutino, the Vyazma, nor the Krasnoe battles were necessary; that\ +we must keep some force to reach the frontier with, and that he would\ +not sacrifice a single Russian for ten Frenchmen.\ +\ +And this courtier, as he is described to us, who lies to Arakcheev to\ +please the Emperor, he alone--incurring thereby the Emperor's\ +displeasure--said in Vilna that to carry the war beyond the frontier is\ +useless and harmful.\ +\ +Nor do words alone prove that only he understood the meaning of the\ +events. His actions--without the smallest deviation--were all directed\ +to one and the same threefold end: (1) to brace all his strength for\ +conflict with the French, (2) to defeat them, and (3) to drive them out\ +of Russia, minimizing as far as possible the sufferings of our people\ +and of our army.\ +\ +This procrastinator Kutuzov, whose motto was "Patience and Time," this\ +enemy of decisive action, gave battle at Borodino, investing the\ +preparations for it with unparalleled solemnity. This Kutuzov who before\ +the battle of Austerlitz began said that it would be lost, he alone, in\ +contradiction to everyone else, declared till his death that Borodino\ +was a victory, despite the assurance of generals that the battle was\ +lost and despite the fact that for an army to have to retire after\ +winning a battle was unprecedented. He alone during the whole retreat\ +insisted that battles, which were useless then, should not be fought,\ +and that a new war should not be begun nor the frontiers of Russia\ +crossed.\ +\ +It is easy now to understand the significance of these events--if only\ +we abstain from attributing to the activity of the mass aims that\ +existed only in the heads of a dozen individuals--for the events and\ +results now lie before us.\ +\ +But how did that old man, alone, in opposition to the general opinion,\ +so truly discern the importance of the people's view of the events that\ +in all his activity he was never once untrue to it?\ +\ +The source of that extraordinary power of penetrating the meaning of the\ +events then occuring lay in the national feeling which he possessed in\ +full purity and strength.\ +\ +Only the recognition of the fact that he possessed this feeling caused\ +the people in so strange a manner, contrary to the Tsar's wish, to\ +select him--an old man in disfavor--to be their representative in the\ +national war. And only that feeling placed him on that highest human\ +pedestal from which he, the commander-in-chief, devoted all his powers\ +not to slaying and destroying men but to saving and showing pity on\ +them.\ +\ +That simple, modest, and therefore truly great, figure could not be cast\ +in the false mold of a European hero--the supposed ruler of men--that\ +history has invented.\ +\ +To a lackey no man can be great, for a lackey has his own conception of\ +greatness.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER VI\ +\ +The fifth of November was the first day of what is called the battle of\ +Krasnoe. Toward evening--after much disputing and many mistakes made by\ +generals who did not go to their proper places, and after adjutants had\ +been sent about with counterorders--when it had become plain that the\ +enemy was everywhere in flight and that there could and would be no\ +battle, Kutuzov left Krasnoe and went to Dobroe whither his headquarters\ +had that day been transferred.\ +\ +The day was clear and frosty. Kutuzov rode to Dobroe on his plump little\ +white horse, followed by an enormous suite of discontented generals who\ +whispered among themselves behind his back. All along the road groups of\ +French prisoners captured that day (there were seven thousand of them)\ +were crowding to warm themselves at campfires. Near Dobroe an immense\ +crowd of tattered prisoners, buzzing with talk and wrapped and bandaged\ +in anything they had been able to get hold of, were standing in the road\ +beside a long row of unharnessed French guns. At the approach of the\ +commander-in-chief the buzz of talk ceased and all eyes were fixed on\ +Kutuzov who, wearing a white cap with a red band and a padded overcoat\ +that bulged on his round shoulders, moved slowly along the road on his\ +white horse. One of the generals was reporting to him where the guns and\ +prisoners had been captured.\ +\ +Kutuzov seemed preoccupied and did not listen to what the general was\ +saying. He screwed up his eyes with a dissatisfied look as he gazed\ +attentively and fixedly at these prisoners, who presented a specially\ +wretched appearance. Most of them were disfigured by frost-bitten noses\ +and cheeks, and nearly all had red, swollen and festering eyes.\ +\ +One group of the French stood close to the road, and two of them, one of\ +whom had his face covered with sores, were tearing a piece of raw flesh\ +with their hands. There was something horrible and bestial in the\ +fleeting glance they threw at the riders and in the malevolent\ +expression with which, after a glance at Kutuzov, the soldier with the\ +sores immediately turned away and went on with what he was doing.\ +\ +Kutuzov looked long and intently at these two soldiers. He puckered his\ +face, screwed up his eyes, and pensively swayed his head. At another\ +spot he noticed a Russian soldier laughingly patting a Frenchman on the\ +shoulder, saying something to him in a friendly manner, and Kutuzov with\ +the same expression on his face again swayed his head.\ +\ +"What were you saying?" he asked the general, who continuing his report\ +directed the commander-in-chief's attention to some standards captured\ +from the French and standing in front of the Preobrazhensk regiment.\ +\ +"Ah, the standards!" said Kutuzov, evidently detaching himself with\ +difficulty from the thoughts that preoccupied him.\ +\ +He looked about him absently. Thousands of eyes were looking at him from\ +all sides awaiting a word from him.\ +\ +He stopped in front of the Preobrazhensk regiment, sighed deeply, and\ +closed his eyes. One of his suite beckoned to the soldiers carrying the\ +standards to advance and surround the commander-in-chief with them.\ +Kutuzov was silent for a few seconds and then, submitting with evident\ +reluctance to the duty imposed by his position, raised his head and\ +began to speak. A throng of officers surrounded him. He looked\ +attentively around at the circle of officers, recognizing several of\ +them.\ +\ +"I thank you all!" he said, addressing the soldiers and then again the\ +officers. In the stillness around him his slowly uttered words were\ +distinctly heard. "I thank you all for your hard and faithful service.\ +The victory is complete and Russia will not forget you! Honor to you\ +forever."\ +\ +He paused and looked around.\ +\ +"Lower its head, lower it!" he said to a soldier who had accidentally\ +lowered the French eagle he was holding before the Preobrazhensk\ +standards. "Lower, lower, that's it. Hurrah lads!" he added, addressing\ +the men with a rapid movement of his chin.\ +\ +"Hur-r-rah!" roared thousands of voices.\ +\ +While the soldiers were shouting Kutuzov leaned forward in his saddle\ +and bowed his head, and his eye lit up with a mild and apparently ironic\ +gleam.\ +\ +"You see, brothers..." said he when the shouts had ceased... and all at\ +once his voice and the expression of his face changed. It was no longer\ +the commander-in-chief speaking but an ordinary old man who wanted to\ +tell his comrades something very important.\ +\ +There was a stir among the throng of officers and in the ranks of the\ +soldiers, who moved that they might hear better what he was going to\ +say.\ +\ +"You see, brothers, I know it's hard for you, but it can't be helped!\ +Bear up; it won't be for long now! We'll see our visitors off and then\ +we'll rest. The Tsar won't forget your service. It is hard for you, but\ +still you are at home while they--you see what they have come to," said\ +he, pointing to the prisoners. "Worse off than our poorest beggars.\ +While they were strong we didn't spare ourselves, but now we may even\ +pity them. They are human beings too. Isn't it so, lads?"\ +\ +He looked around, and in the direct, respectful, wondering gaze fixed\ +upon him he read sympathy with what he had said. His face grew brighter\ +and brighter with an old man's mild smile, which drew the corners of his\ +lips and eyes into a cluster of wrinkles. He ceased speaking and bowed\ +his head as if in perplexity.\ +\ +"But after all who asked them here? Serves them right, the bloody\ +bastards!" he cried, suddenly lifting his head.\ +\ +And flourishing his whip he rode off at a gallop for the first time\ +during the whole campaign, and left the broken ranks of the soldiers\ +laughing joyfully and shouting "Hurrah!"\ +\ +Kutuzov's words were hardly understood by the troops. No one could have\ +repeated the field marshal's address, begun solemnly and then changing\ +into an old man's simplehearted talk; but the hearty sincerity of that\ +speech, the feeling of majestic triumph combined with pity for the foe\ +and consciousness of the justice of our cause, exactly expressed by that\ +old man's good-natured expletives, was not merely understood but lay in\ +the soul of every soldier and found expression in their joyous and long-\ +sustained shouts. Afterwards when one of the generals addressed Kutuzov\ +asking whether he wished his caleche to be sent for, Kutuzov in\ +answering unexpectedly gave a sob, being evidently greatly moved.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER VII\ +\ +When the troops reached their night's halting place on the eighth of\ +November, the last day of the Krasnoe battles, it was already growing\ +dusk. All day it had been calm and frosty with occasional lightly\ +falling snow and toward evening it began to clear. Through the falling\ +snow a purple-black and starry sky showed itself and the frost grew\ +keener.\ +\ +An infantry regiment which had left Tarutino three thousand strong but\ +now numbered only nine hundred was one of the first to arrive that night\ +at its halting place--a village on the highroad. The quartermasters who\ +met the regiment announced that all the huts were full of sick and dead\ +Frenchmen, cavalrymen, and members of the staff. There was only one hut\ +available for the regimental commander.\ +\ +The commander rode up to his hut. The regiment passed through the\ +village and stacked its arms in front of the last huts.\ +\ +Like some huge many-limbed animal, the regiment began to prepare its\ +lair and its food. One part of it dispersed and waded knee-deep through\ +the snow into a birch forest to the right of the village, and\ +immediately the sound of axes and swords, the crashing of branches, and\ +merry voices could be heard from there. Another section amid the\ +regimental wagons and horses which were standing in a group was busy\ +getting out caldrons and rye biscuit, and feeding the horses. A third\ +section scattered through the village arranging quarters for the staff\ +officers, carrying out the French corpses that were in the huts, and\ +dragging away boards, dry wood, and thatch from the roofs, for the\ +campfires, or wattle fences to serve for shelter.\ +\ +Some fifteen men with merry shouts were shaking down the high wattle\ +wall of a shed, the roof of which had already been removed.\ +\ +"Now then, all together--shove!" cried the voices, and the huge surface\ +of the wall, sprinkled with snow and creaking with frost, was seen\ +swaying in the gloom of the night. The lower stakes cracked more and\ +more and at last the wall fell, and with it the men who had been pushing\ +it. Loud, coarse laughter and joyous shouts ensued.\ +\ +"Now then, catch hold in twos! Hand up the lever! That's it... Where are\ +you shoving to?"\ +\ +"Now, all together! But wait a moment, boys... With a song!"\ +\ +All stood silent, and a soft, pleasant velvety voice began to sing. At\ +the end of the third verse as the last note died away, twenty voices\ +roared out at once: "Oo-oo-oo-oo! That's it. All together! Heave away,\ +boys!..." but despite their united efforts the wattle hardly moved, and\ +in the silence that followed the heavy breathing of the men was audible.\ +\ +"Here, you of the Sixth Company! Devils that you are! Lend a hand...\ +will you? You may want us one of these days."\ +\ +Some twenty men of the Sixth Company who were on their way into the\ +village joined the haulers, and the wattle wall, which was about thirty-\ +five feet long and seven feet high, moved forward along the village\ +street, swaying, pressing upon and cutting the shoulders of the gasping\ +men.\ +\ +"Get along... Falling? What are you stopping for? There now..."\ +\ +Merry senseless words of abuse flowed freely.\ +\ +"What are you up to?" suddenly came the authoritative voice of a\ +sergeant major who came upon the men who were hauling their burden.\ +"There are gentry here; the general himself is in that hut, and you\ +foul-mouthed devils, you brutes, I'll give it to you!" shouted he,\ +hitting the first man who came in his way a swinging blow on the back.\ +"Can't you make less noise?"\ +\ +The men became silent. The soldier who had been struck groaned and wiped\ +his face, which had been scratched till it bled by his falling against\ +the wattle.\ +\ +"There, how that devil hits out! He's made my face all bloody," said he\ +in a frightened whisper when the sergeant major had passed on.\ +\ +"Don't you like it?" said a laughing voice, and moderating their tones\ +the men moved forward.\ +\ +When they were out of the village they began talking again as loud as\ +before, interlarding their talk with the same aimless expletives.\ +\ +In the hut which the men had passed, the chief officers had gathered and\ +were in animated talk over their tea about the events of the day and the\ +maneuvers suggested for tomorrow. It was proposed to make a flank march\ +to the left, cut off the Vice-King (Murat) and capture him.\ +\ +By the time the soldiers had dragged the wattle fence to its place the\ +campfires were blazing on all sides ready for cooking, the wood\ +crackled, the snow was melting, and black shadows of soldiers flitted to\ +and fro all over the occupied space where the snow had been trodden\ +down.\ +\ +Axes and choppers were plied all around. Everything was done without any\ +orders being given. Stores of wood were brought for the night, shelters\ +were rigged up for the officers, caldrons were being boiled, and muskets\ +and accouterments put in order.\ +\ +The wattle wall the men had brought was set up in a semicircle by the\ +Eighth Company as a shelter from the north, propped up by musket rests,\ +and a campfire was built before it. They beat the tattoo, called the\ +roll, had supper, and settled down round the fires for the night--some\ +repairing their footgear, some smoking pipes, and some stripping\ +themselves naked to steam the lice out of their shirts.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER VIII\ +\ +One would have thought that under the almost incredibly wretched\ +conditions the Russian soldiers were in at that time--lacking warm boots\ +and sheepskin coats, without a roof over their heads, in the snow with\ +eighteen degrees of frost, and without even full rations (the\ +commissariat did not always keep up with the troops)--they would have\ +presented a very sad and depressing spectacle.\ +\ +On the contrary, the army had never under the best material conditions\ +presented a more cheerful and animated aspect. This was because all who\ +began to grow depressed or who lost strength were sifted out of the army\ +day by day. All the physically or morally weak had long since been left\ +behind and only the flower of the army--physically and mentally--\ +remained.\ +\ +More men collected behind the wattle fence of the Eighth Company than\ +anywhere else. Two sergeants major were sitting with them and their\ +campfire blazed brighter than others. For leave to sit by their wattle\ +they demanded contributions of fuel.\ +\ +"Eh, Makeev! What has become of you, you son of a bitch? Are you lost or\ +have the wolves eaten you? Fetch some more wood!" shouted a red-haired\ +and red-faced man, screwing up his eyes and blinking because of the\ +smoke but not moving back from the fire. "And you, Jackdaw, go and fetch\ +some wood!" said he to another soldier.\ +\ +This red-haired man was neither a sergeant nor a corporal, but being\ +robust he ordered about those weaker than himself. The soldier they\ +called "Jackdaw," a thin little fellow with a sharp nose, rose\ +obediently and was about to go but at that instant there came into the\ +light of the fire the slender, handsome figure of a young soldier\ +carrying a load of wood.\ +\ +"Bring it here--that's fine!"\ +\ +They split up the wood, pressed it down on the fire, blew at it with\ +their mouths, and fanned it with the skirts of their greatcoats, making\ +the flames hiss and crackle. The men drew nearer and lit their pipes.\ +The handsome young soldier who had brought the wood, setting his arms\ +akimbo, began stamping his cold feet rapidly and deftly on the spot\ +where he stood.\ +\ +"Mother! The dew is cold but clear.... It's well that I'm a\ +musketeer..." he sang, pretending to hiccough after each syllable.\ +\ +"Look out, your soles will fly off!" shouted the red-haired man,\ +noticing that the sole of the dancer's boot was hanging loose. "What a\ +fellow you are for dancing!"\ +\ +The dancer stopped, pulled off the loose piece of leather, and threw it\ +on the fire.\ +\ +"Right enough, friend," said he, and, having sat down, took out of his\ +knapsack a scrap of blue French cloth, and wrapped it round his foot.\ +"It's the steam that spoils them," he added, stretching out his feet\ +toward the fire.\ +\ +"They'll soon be issuing us new ones. They say that when we've finished\ +hammering them, we're to receive double kits!"\ +\ +"And that son of a bitch Petrov has lagged behind after all, it seems,"\ +said one sergeant major.\ +\ +"I've had an eye on him this long while," said the other.\ +\ +"Well, he's a poor sort of soldier..."\ +\ +"But in the Third Company they say nine men were missing yesterday."\ +\ +"Yes, it's all very well, but when a man's feet are frozen how can he\ +walk?"\ +\ +"Eh? Don't talk nonsense!" said a sergeant major.\ +\ +"Do you want to be doing the same?" said an old soldier, turning\ +reproachfully to the man who had spoken of frozen feet.\ +\ +"Well, you know," said the sharp-nosed man they called Jackdaw in a\ +squeaky and unsteady voice, raising himself at the other side of the\ +fire, "a plump man gets thin, but for a thin one it's death. Take me,\ +now! I've got no strength left," he added, with sudden resolution\ +turning to the sergeant major. "Tell them to send me to hospital; I'm\ +aching all over; anyway I shan't be able to keep up."\ +\ +"That'll do, that'll do!" replied the sergeant major quietly.\ +\ +The soldier said no more and the talk went on.\ +\ +"What a lot of those Frenchies were taken today, and the fact is that\ +not one of them had what you might call real boots on," said a soldier,\ +starting a new theme. "They were no more than make-believes."\ +\ +"The Cossacks have taken their boots. They were clearing the hut for the\ +colonel and carried them out. It was pitiful to see them, boys," put in\ +the dancer. "As they turned them over one seemed still alive and, would\ +you believe it, he jabbered something in their lingo."\ +\ +"But they're a clean folk, lads," the first man went on; "he was white--\ +as white as birchbark--and some of them are such fine fellows, you might\ +think they were nobles."\ +\ +"Well, what do you think? They make soldiers of all classes there."\ +\ +"But they don't understand our talk at all," said the dancer with a\ +puzzled smile. "I asked him whose subject he was, and he jabbered in his\ +own way. A queer lot!"\ +\ +"But it's strange, friends," continued the man who had wondered at their\ +whiteness, "the peasants at Mozhaysk were saying that when they began\ +burying the dead--where the battle was you know--well, those dead had\ +been lying there for nearly a month, and says the peasant, 'they lie as\ +white as paper, clean, and not as much smell as a puff of powder\ +smoke.'"\ +\ +"Was it from the cold?" asked someone.\ +\ +"You're a clever fellow! From the cold indeed! Why, it was hot. If it\ +had been from the cold, ours would not have rotted either. 'But,' he\ +says, 'go up to ours and they are all rotten and maggoty. So,' he says,\ +'we tie our faces up with kerchiefs and turn our heads away as we drag\ +them off: we can hardly do it. But theirs,' he says, 'are white as paper\ +and not so much smell as a whiff of gunpowder.'"\ +\ +All were silent.\ +\ +"It must be from their food," said the sergeant major. "They used to\ +gobble the same food as the gentry."\ +\ +No one contradicted him.\ +\ +"That peasant near Mozhaysk where the battle was said the men were all\ +called up from ten villages around and they carted for twenty days and\ +still didn't finish carting the dead away. And as for the wolves, he\ +says..."\ +\ +"That was a real battle," said an old soldier. "It's the only one worth\ +remembering; but since that... it's only been tormenting folk."\ +\ +"And do you know, Daddy, the day before yesterday we ran at them and, my\ +word, they didn't let us get near before they just threw down their\ +muskets and went on their knees. 'Pardon!' they say. That's only one\ +case. They say Platov took 'Poleon himself twice. But he didn't know the\ +right charm. He catches him and catches him--no good! He turns into a\ +bird in his hands and flies away. And there's no way of killing him\ +either."\ +\ +"You're a first-class liar, Kiselev, when I come to look at you!"\ +\ +"Liar, indeed! It's the real truth."\ +\ +"If he fell into my hands, when I'd caught him I'd bury him in the\ +ground with an aspen stake to fix him down. What a lot of men he's\ +ruined!"\ +\ +"Well, anyhow we're going to end it. He won't come here again," remarked\ +the old soldier, yawning.\ +\ +The conversation flagged, and the soldiers began settling down to sleep.\ +\ +"Look at the stars. It's wonderful how they shine! You would think the\ +women had spread out their linen," said one of the men, gazing with\ +admiration at the Milky Way.\ +\ +"That's a sign of a good harvest next year."\ +\ +"We shall want some more wood."\ +\ +"You warm your back and your belly gets frozen. That's queer."\ +\ +"O Lord!"\ +\ +"What are you pushing for? Is the fire only for you? Look how he's\ +sprawling!"\ +\ +In the silence that ensued, the snoring of those who had fallen asleep\ +could be heard. Others turned over and warmed themselves, now and again\ +exchanging a few words. From a campfire a hundred paces off came a sound\ +of general, merry laughter.\ +\ +"Hark at them roaring there in the Fifth Company!" said one of the\ +soldiers, "and what a lot of them there are!"\ +\ +One of the men got up and went over to the Fifth Company.\ +\ +"They're having such fun," said he, coming back. "Two Frenchies have\ +turned up. One's quite frozen and the other's an awful swaggerer. He's\ +singing songs...."\ +\ +"Oh, I'll go across and have a look...."\ +\ +And several of the men went over to the Fifth Company.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER IX\ +\ +The fifth company was bivouacking at the very edge of the forest. A huge\ +campfire was blazing brightly in the midst of the snow, lighting up the\ +branches of trees heavy with hoarfrost.\ +\ +About midnight they heard the sound of steps in the snow of the forest,\ +and the crackling of dry branches.\ +\ +"A bear, lads," said one of the men.\ +\ +They all raised their heads to listen, and out of the forest into the\ +bright firelight stepped two strangely clad human figures clinging to\ +one another.\ +\ +These were two Frenchmen who had been hiding in the forest. They came up\ +to the fire, hoarsely uttering something in a language our soldiers did\ +not understand. One was taller than the other; he wore an officer's hat\ +and seemed quite exhausted. On approaching the fire he had been going to\ +sit down, but fell. The other, a short sturdy soldier with a shawl tied\ +round his head, was stronger. He raised his companion and said\ +something, pointing to his mouth. The soldiers surrounded the Frenchmen,\ +spread a greatcoat on the ground for the sick man, and brought some\ +buckwheat porridge and vodka for both of them.\ +\ +The exhausted French officer was Ramballe and the man with his head\ +wrapped in the shawl was Morel, his orderly.\ +\ +When Morel had drunk some vodka and finished his bowl of porridge he\ +suddenly became unnaturally merry and chattered incessantly to the\ +soldiers, who could not understand him. Ramballe refused food and\ +resting his head on his elbow lay silent beside the campfire, looking at\ +the Russian soldiers with red and vacant eyes. Occasionally he emitted a\ +long-drawn groan and then again became silent. Morel, pointing to his\ +shoulders, tried to impress on the soldiers the fact that Ramballe was\ +an officer and ought to be warmed. A Russian officer who had come up to\ +the fire sent to ask his colonel whether he would not take a French\ +officer into his hut to warm him, and when the messenger returned and\ +said that the colonel wished the officer to be brought to him, Ramballe\ +was told to go. He rose and tried to walk, but staggered and would have\ +fallen had not a soldier standing by held him up.\ +\ +"You won't do it again, eh?" said one of the soldiers, winking and\ +turning mockingly to Ramballe.\ +\ +"Oh, you fool! Why talk rubbish, lout that you are--a real peasant!"\ +came rebukes from all sides addressed to the jesting soldier.\ +\ +They surrounded Ramballe, lifted him on the crossed arms of two\ +soldiers, and carried him to the hut. Ramballe put his arms around their\ +necks while they carried him and began wailing plaintively:\ +\ +"Oh, you fine fellows, my kind, kind friends! These are men! Oh, my\ +brave, kind friends," and he leaned his head against the shoulder of one\ +of the men like a child.\ +\ +Meanwhile Morel was sitting in the best place by the fire, surrounded by\ +the soldiers.\ +\ +Morel, a short sturdy Frenchman with inflamed and streaming eyes, was\ +wearing a woman's cloak and had a shawl tied woman fashion round his\ +head over his cap. He was evidently tipsy, and was singing a French song\ +in a hoarse broken voice, with an arm thrown round the nearest soldier.\ +The soldiers simply held their sides as they watched him.\ +\ +"Now then, now then, teach us how it goes! I'll soon pick it up. How is\ +it?" said the man--a singer and a wag--whom Morel was embracing.\ +\ +"Vive Henri Quatre! Vive ce roi valiant!" sang Morel, winking. "Ce\ +diable a quatre..." *\ +\ +\ +* "Long live Henry the Fourth, that valiant king! That rowdy devil."\ +\ +"Vivarika! Vif-seruvaru! Sedyablyaka!" repeated the soldier, flourishing\ +his arm and really catching the tune.\ +\ +"Bravo! Ha, ha, ha!" rose their rough, joyous laughter from all sides.\ +\ +Morel, wrinkling up his face, laughed too.\ +\ +"Well, go on, go on!"\ +\ +\ +"Qui eut le triple talent, De boire, de battre, Et d'etre un vert\ +galant." *\ +\ +\ +* Who had a triple talent For drinking, for fighting, And for being a\ +gallant old boy...\ +\ +"It goes smoothly, too. Well, now, Zaletaev!"\ +\ +"Ke..." Zaletaev, brought out with effort: "ke-e-e-e," he drawled,\ +laboriously pursing his lips, "le-trip-ta-la-de-bu-de-ba, e de-tra-va-\ +ga-la" he sang.\ +\ +"Fine! Just like the Frenchie! Oh, ho ho! Do you want some more to eat?"\ +\ +"Give him some porridge: it takes a long time to get filled up after\ +starving."\ +\ +They gave him some more porridge and Morel with a laugh set to work on\ +his third bowl. All the young soldiers smiled gaily as they watched him.\ +The older men, who thought it undignified to amuse themselves with such\ +nonsense, continued to lie at the opposite side of the fire, but one\ +would occasionally raise himself on an elbow and glance at Morel with a\ +smile.\ +\ +"They are men too," said one of them as he wrapped himself up in his\ +coat. "Even wormwood grows on its own root."\ +\ +"O Lord, O Lord! How starry it is! Tremendous! That means a hard\ +frost...."\ +\ +They all grew silent. The stars, as if knowing that no one was looking\ +at them, began to disport themselves in the dark sky: now flaring up,\ +now vanishing, now trembling, they were busy whispering something\ +gladsome and mysterious to one another.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER X\ +\ +The French army melted away at the uniform rate of a mathematical\ +progression; and that crossing of the Berezina about which so much has\ +been written was only one intermediate stage in its destruction, and not\ +at all the decisive episode of the campaign. If so much has been and\ +still is written about the Berezina, on the French side this is only\ +because at the broken bridge across that river the calamities their army\ +had been previously enduring were suddenly concentrated at one moment\ +into a tragic spectacle that remained in every memory, and on the\ +Russian side merely because in Petersburg--far from the seat of war--a\ +plan (again one of Pfuel's) had been devised to catch Napoleon in a\ +strategic trap at the Berezina River. Everyone assured himself that all\ +would happen according to plan, and therefore insisted that it was just\ +the crossing of the Berezina that destroyed the French army. In reality\ +the results of the crossing were much less disastrous to the French--in\ +guns and men lost--than Krasnoe had been, as the figures show.\ +\ +The sole importance of the crossing of the Berezina lies in the fact\ +that it plainly and indubitably proved the fallacy of all the plans for\ +cutting off the enemy's retreat and the soundness of the only possible\ +line of action--the one Kutuzov and the general mass of the army\ +demanded--namely, simply to follow the enemy up. The French crowd fled\ +at a continually increasing speed and all its energy was directed to\ +reaching its goal. It fled like a wounded animal and it was impossible\ +to block its path. This was shown not so much by the arrangements it\ +made for crossing as by what took place at the bridges. When the bridges\ +broke down, unarmed soldiers, people from Moscow and women with children\ +who were with the French transport, all--carried on by vis inertiae--\ +pressed forward into boats and into the ice-covered water and did not,\ +surrender.\ +\ +That impulse was reasonable. The condition of fugitives and of pursuers\ +was equally bad. As long as they remained with their own people each\ +might hope for help from his fellows and the definite place he held\ +among them. But those who surrendered, while remaining in the same\ +pitiful plight, would be on a lower level to claim a share in the\ +necessities of life. The French did not need to be informed of the fact\ +that half the prisoners--with whom the Russians did not know what to do-\ +-perished of cold and hunger despite their captors' desire to save them;\ +they felt that it could not be otherwise. The most compassionate Russian\ +commanders, those favorable to the French--and even the Frenchmen in the\ +Russian service--could do nothing for the prisoners. The French perished\ +from the conditions to which the Russian army was itself exposed. It was\ +impossible to take bread and clothes from our hungry and indispensable\ +soldiers to give to the French who, though not harmful, or hated, or\ +guilty, were simply unnecessary. Some Russians even did that, but they\ +were exceptions.\ +\ +Certain destruction lay behind the French but in front there was hope.\ +Their ships had been burned, there was no salvation save in collective\ +flight, and on that the whole strength of the French was concentrated.\ +\ +The farther they fled the more wretched became the plight of the\ +remnant, especially after the Berezina, on which (in consequence of the\ +Petersburg plan) special hopes had been placed by the Russians, and the\ +keener grew the passions of the Russian commanders, who blamed one\ +another and Kutuzov most of all. Anticipation that the failure of the\ +Petersburg Berezina plan would be attributed to Kutuzov led to\ +dissatisfaction, contempt, and ridicule, more and more strongly\ +expressed. The ridicule and contempt were of course expressed in a\ +respectful form, making it impossible for him to ask wherein he was to\ +blame. They did not talk seriously to him; when reporting to him or\ +asking for his sanction they appeared to be fulfilling a regrettable\ +formality, but they winked behind his back and tried to mislead him at\ +every turn.\ +\ +Because they could not understand him all these people assumed that it\ +was useless to talk to the old man; that he would never grasp the\ +profundity of their plans, that he would answer with his phrases (which\ +they thought were mere phrases) about a "golden bridge," about the\ +impossibility of crossing the frontier with a crowd of tatterdemalions,\ +and so forth. They had heard all that before. And all he said--that it\ +was necessary to await provisions, or that the men had no boots--was so\ +simple, while what they proposed was so complicated and clever, that it\ +was evident that he was old and stupid and that they, though not in\ +power, were commanders of genius.\ +\ +After the junction with the army of the brilliant admiral and Petersburg\ +hero Wittgenstein, this mood and the gossip of the staff reached their\ +maximum. Kutuzov saw this and merely sighed and shrugged his shoulders.\ +Only once, after the affair of the Berezina, did he get angry and write\ +to Bennigsen (who reported separately to the Emperor) the following\ +letter:\ +\ +"On account of your spells of ill health, will your excellency please be\ +so good as to set off for Kaluga on receipt of this, and there await\ +further commands and appointments from His Imperial Majesty."\ +\ +But after Bennigsen's departure, the Grand Duke Tsarevich Constantine\ +Pavlovich joined the army. He had taken part in the beginning of the\ +campaign but had subsequently been removed from the army by Kutuzov. Now\ +having come to the army, he informed Kutuzov of the Emperor's\ +displeasure at the poor success of our forces and the slowness of their\ +advance. The Emperor intended to join the army personally in a few days'\ +time.\ +\ +The old man, experienced in court as well as in military affairs--this\ +same Kutuzov who in August had been chosen commander-in-chief against\ +the sovereign's wishes and who had removed the Grand Duke and heir--\ +apparent from the army--who on his own authority and contrary to the\ +Emperor's will had decided on the abandonment of Moscow, now realized at\ +once that his day was over, that his part was played, and that the power\ +he was supposed to hold was no longer his. And he understood this not\ +merely from the attitude of the court. He saw on the one hand that the\ +military business in which he had played his part was ended and felt\ +that his mission was accomplished; and at the same time he began to be\ +conscious of the physical weariness of his aged body and of the\ +necessity of physical rest.\ +\ +On the twenty-ninth of November Kutuzov entered Vilna--his "dear Vilna"\ +as he called it. Twice during his career Kutuzov had been governor of\ +Vilna. In that wealthy town, which had not been injured, he found old\ +friends and associations, besides the comforts of life of which he had\ +so long been deprived. And he suddenly turned from the cares of army and\ +state and, as far as the passions that seethed around him allowed,\ +immersed himself in the quiet life to which he had formerly been\ +accustomed, as if all that was taking place and all that had still to be\ +done in the realm of history did not concern him at all.\ +\ +Chichagov, one of the most zealous "cutters-off" and "breakers-up," who\ +had first wanted to effect a diversion in Greece and then in Warsaw but\ +never wished to go where he was sent: Chichagov, noted for the boldness\ +with which he spoke to the Emperor, and who considered Kutuzov to be\ +under an obligation to him because when he was sent to make peace with\ +Turkey in 1811 independently of Kutuzov, and found that peace had\ +already been concluded, he admitted to the Emperor that the merit of\ +securing that peace was really Kutuzov's; this Chichagov was the first\ +to meet Kutuzov at the castle where the latter was to stay. In undress\ +naval uniform, with a dirk, and holding his cap under his arm, he handed\ +Kutuzov a garrison report and the keys of the town. The contemptuously\ +respectful attitude of the younger men to the old man in his dotage was\ +expressed in the highest degree by the behavior of Chichagov, who knew\ +of the accusations that were being directed against Kutuzov.\ +\ +When speaking to Chichagov, Kutuzov incidentally mentioned that the\ +vehicles packed with china that had been captured from him at Borisov\ +had been recovered and would be restored to him.\ +\ +"You mean to imply that I have nothing to eat out of.... On the\ +contrary, I can supply you with everything even if you want to give\ +dinner parties," warmly replied Chichagov, who tried by every word he\ +spoke to prove his own rectitude and therefore imagined Kutuzov to be\ +animated by the same desire.\ +\ +Kutuzov, shrugging his shoulders, replied with his subtle penetrating\ +smile: "I meant merely to say what I said."\ +\ +Contrary to the Emperor's wish Kutuzov detained the greater part of the\ +army at Vilna. Those about him said that he became extraordinarily slack\ +and physically feeble during his stay in that town. He attended to army\ +affairs reluctantly, left everything to his generals, and while awaiting\ +the Emperor's arrival led a dissipated life.\ +\ +Having left Petersburg on the seventh of December with his suite--Count\ +Tolstoy, Prince Volkonski, Arakcheev, and others--the Emperor reached\ +Vilna on the eleventh, and in his traveling sleigh drove straight to the\ +castle. In spite of the severe frost some hundred generals and staff\ +officers in full parade uniform stood in front of the castle, as well as\ +a guard of honor of the Semenov regiment.\ +\ +A courier who galloped to the castle in advance, in a troyka with three\ +foam-flecked horses, shouted "Coming!" and Konovnitsyn rushed into the\ +vestibule to inform Kutuzov, who was waiting in the hall porter's little\ +lodge.\ +\ +A minute later the old man's large stout figure in full-dress uniform,\ +his chest covered with orders and a scarf drawn round his stomach,\ +waddled out into the porch. He put on his hat with its peaks to the\ +sides and, holding his gloves in his hand and walking with an effort\ +sideways down the steps to the level of the street, took in his hand the\ +report he had prepared for the Emperor.\ +\ +There was running to and fro and whispering; another troyka flew\ +furiously up, and then all eyes were turned on an approaching sleigh in\ +which the figures of the Emperor and Volkonski could already be\ +descried.\ +\ +From the habit of fifty years all this had a physically agitating effect\ +on the old general. He carefully and hastily felt himself all over,\ +readjusted his hat, and pulling himself together drew himself up and, at\ +the very moment when the Emperor, having alighted from the sleigh,\ +lifted his eyes to him, handed him the report and began speaking in his\ +smooth, ingratiating voice.\ +\ +The Emperor with a rapid glance scanned Kutuzov from head to foot,\ +frowned for an instant, but immediately mastering himself went up to the\ +old man, extended his arms and embraced him. And this embrace too, owing\ +to a long-standing impression related to his innermost feelings, had its\ +usual effect on Kutuzov and he gave a sob.\ +\ +The Emperor greeted the officers and the Semenov guard, and again\ +pressing the old man's hand went with him into the castle.\ +\ +When alone with the field marshal the Emperor expressed his\ +dissatisfaction at the slowness of the pursuit and at the mistakes made\ +at Krasnoe and the Berezina, and informed him of his intentions for a\ +future campaign abroad. Kutuzov made no rejoinder or remark. The same\ +submissive, expressionless look with which he had listened to the\ +Emperor's commands on the field of Austerlitz seven years before settled\ +on his face now.\ +\ +When Kutuzov came out of the study and with lowered head was crossing\ +the ballroom with his heavy waddling gait, he was arrested by someone's\ +voice saying:\ +\ +"Your Serene Highness!"\ +\ +Kutuzov raised his head and looked for a long while into the eyes of\ +Count Tolstoy, who stood before him holding a silver salver on which lay\ +a small object. Kutuzov seemed not to understand what was expected of\ +him.\ +\ +Suddenly he seemed to remember; a scarcely perceptible smile flashed\ +across his puffy face, and bowing low and respectfully he took the\ +object that lay on the salver. It was the Order of St. George of the\ +First Class.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XI\ +\ +Next day the field marshal gave a dinner and ball which the Emperor\ +honored by his presence. Kutuzov had received the Order of St. George of\ +the First Class and the Emperor showed him the highest honors, but\ +everyone knew of the imperial dissatisfaction with him. The proprieties\ +were observed and the Emperor was the first to set that example, but\ +everybody understood that the old man was blameworthy and good-for-\ +nothing. When Kutuzov, conforming to a custom of Catherine's day,\ +ordered the standards that had been captured to be lowered at the\ +Emperor's feet on his entering the ballroom, the Emperor made a wry face\ +and muttered something in which some people caught the words, "the old\ +comedian."\ +\ +The Emperor's displeasure with Kutuzov was specially increased at Vilna\ +by the fact that Kutuzov evidently could not or would not understand the\ +importance of the coming campaign.\ +\ +When on the following morning the Emperor said to the officers assembled\ +about him: "You have not only saved Russia, you have saved Europe!" they\ +all understood that the war was not ended.\ +\ +Kutuzov alone would not see this and openly expressed his opinion that\ +no fresh war could improve the position or add to the glory of Russia,\ +but could only spoil and lower the glorious position that Russia had\ +gained. He tried to prove to the Emperor the impossibility of levying\ +fresh troops, spoke of the hardships already endured by the people, of\ +the possibility of failure and so forth.\ +\ +This being the field marshal's frame of mind he was naturally regarded\ +as merely a hindrance and obstacle to the impending war.\ +\ +To avoid unpleasant encounters with the old man, the natural method was\ +to do what had been done with him at Austerlitz and with Barclay at the\ +beginning of the Russian campaign--to transfer the authority to the\ +Emperor himself, thus cutting the ground from under the commander in\ +chief's feet without upsetting the old man by informing him of the\ +change.\ +\ +With this object his staff was gradually reconstructed and its real\ +strength removed and transferred to the Emperor. Toll, Konovnitsyn, and\ +Ermolov received fresh appointments. Everyone spoke loudly of the field\ +marshal's great weakness and failing health.\ +\ +His health had to be bad for his place to be taken away and given to\ +another. And in fact his health was poor.\ +\ +So naturally, simply, and gradually--just as he had come from Turkey to\ +the Treasury in Petersburg to recruit the militia, and then to the army\ +when he was needed there--now when his part was played out, Kutuzov's\ +place was taken by a new and necessary performer.\ +\ +The war of 1812, besides its national significance dear to every Russian\ +heart, was now to assume another, a European, significance.\ +\ +The movement of peoples from west to east was to be succeeded by a\ +movement of peoples from east to west, and for this fresh war another\ +leader was necessary, having qualities and views differing from\ +Kutuzov's and animated by different motives.\ +\ +Alexander I was as necessary for the movement of the peoples from east\ +to west and for the refixing of national frontiers as Kutuzov had been\ +for the salvation and glory of Russia.\ +\ +Kutuzov did not understand what Europe, the balance of power, or\ +Napoleon meant. He could not understand it. For the representative of\ +the Russian people, after the enemy had been destroyed and Russia had\ +been liberated and raised to the summit of her glory, there was nothing\ +left to do as a Russian. Nothing remained for the representative of the\ +national war but to die, and Kutuzov died.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XII\ +\ +As generally happens, Pierre did not feel the full effects of the\ +physical privation and strain he had suffered as prisoner until after\ +they were over. After his liberation he reached Orel, and on the third\ +day there, when preparing to go to Kiev, he fell ill and was laid up for\ +three months. He had what the doctors termed "bilious fever." But\ +despite the fact that the doctors treated him, bled him, and gave him\ +medicines to drink, he recovered.\ +\ +Scarcely any impression was left on Pierre's mind by all that happened\ +to him from the time of his rescue till his illness. He remembered only\ +the dull gray weather now rainy and now snowy, internal physical\ +distress, and pains in his feet and side. He remembered a general\ +impression of the misfortunes and sufferings of people and of being\ +worried by the curiosity of officers and generals who questioned him, he\ +also remembered his difficulty in procuring a conveyance and horses, and\ +above all he remembered his incapacity to think and feel all that time.\ +On the day of his rescue he had seen the body of Petya Rostov. That same\ +day he had learned that Prince Andrew, after surviving the battle of\ +Borodino for more than a month had recently died in the Rostovs' house\ +at Yaroslavl, and Denisov who told him this news also mentioned Helene's\ +death, supposing that Pierre had heard of it long before. All this at\ +the time seemed merely strange to Pierre: he felt he could not grasp its\ +significance. Just then he was only anxious to get away as quickly as\ +possible from places where people were killing one another, to some\ +peaceful refuge where he could recover himself, rest, and think over all\ +the strange new facts he had learned; but on reaching Orel he\ +immediately fell ill. When he came to himself after his illness he saw\ +in attendance on him two of his servants, Terenty and Vaska, who had\ +come from Moscow; and also his cousin the eldest princess, who had been\ +living on his estate at Elets and hearing of his rescue and illness had\ +come to look after him.\ +\ +It was only gradually during his convalescence that Pierre lost the\ +impressions he had become accustomed to during the last few months and\ +got used to the idea that no one would oblige him to go anywhere\ +tomorrow, that no one would deprive him of his warm bed, and that he\ +would be sure to get his dinner, tea, and supper. But for a long time in\ +his dreams he still saw himself in the conditions of captivity. In the\ +same way little by little he came to understand the news he had been\ +told after his rescue, about the death of Prince Andrew, the death of\ +his wife, and the destruction of the French.\ +\ +A joyous feeling of freedom--that complete inalienable freedom natural\ +to man which he had first experienced at the first halt outside Moscow--\ +filled Pierre's soul during his convalescence. He was surprised to find\ +that this inner freedom, which was independent of external conditions,\ +now had as it were an additional setting of external liberty. He was\ +alone in a strange town, without acquaintances. No one demanded anything\ +of him or sent him anywhere. He had all he wanted: the thought of his\ +wife which had been a continual torment to him was no longer there,\ +since she was no more.\ +\ +"Oh, how good! How splendid!" said he to himself when a cleanly laid\ +table was moved up to him with savory beef tea, or when he lay down for\ +the night on a soft clean bed, or when he remembered that the French had\ +gone and that his wife was no more. "Oh, how good, how splendid!"\ +\ +And by old habit he asked himself the question: "Well, and what then?\ +What am I going to do?" And he immediately gave himself the answer:\ +"Well, I shall live. Ah, how splendid!"\ +\ +The very question that had formerly tormented him, the thing he had\ +continually sought to find--the aim of life--no longer existed for him\ +now. That search for the aim of life had not merely disappeared\ +temporarily--he felt that it no longer existed for him and could not\ +present itself again. And this very absence of an aim gave him the\ +complete, joyous sense of freedom which constituted his happiness at\ +this time.\ +\ +He could not see an aim, for he now had faith--not faith in any kind of\ +rule, or words, or ideas, but faith in an ever-living, ever-manifest\ +God. Formerly he had sought Him in aims he set himself. That search for\ +an aim had been simply a search for God, and suddenly in his captivity\ +he had learned not by words or reasoning but by direct feeling what his\ +nurse had told him long ago: that God is here and everywhere. In his\ +captivity he had learned that in Karataev God was greater, more infinite\ +and unfathomable than in the Architect of the Universe recognized by the\ +Freemasons. He felt like a man who after straining his eyes to see into\ +the far distance finds what he sought at his very feet. All his life he\ +had looked over the heads of the men around him, when he should have\ +merely looked in front of him without straining his eyes.\ +\ +In the past he had never been able to find that great inscrutable\ +infinite something. He had only felt that it must exist somewhere and\ +had looked for it. In everything near and comprehensible he had only\ +what was limited, petty, commonplace, and senseless. He had equipped\ +himself with a mental telescope and looked into remote space, where\ +petty worldliness hiding itself in misty distance had seemed to him\ +great and infinite merely because it was not clearly seen. And such had\ +European life, politics, Freemasonry, philosophy, and philanthropy\ +seemed to him. But even then, at moments of weakness as he had accounted\ +them, his mind had penetrated to those distances and he had there seen\ +the same pettiness, worldliness, and senselessness. Now, however, he had\ +learned to see the great, eternal, and infinite in everything, and\ +therefore--to see it and enjoy its contemplation--he naturally threw\ +away the telescope through which he had till now gazed over men's heads,\ +and gladly regarded the ever-changing, eternally great, unfathomable,\ +and infinite life around him. And the closer he looked the more tranquil\ +and happy he became. That dreadful question, "What for?" which had\ +formerly destroyed all his mental edifices, no longer existed for him.\ +To that question, "What for?" a simple answer was now always ready in\ +his soul: "Because there is a God, that God without whose will not one\ +hair falls from a man's head."\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XIII\ +\ +In external ways Pierre had hardly changed at all. In appearance he was\ +just what he used to be. As before he was absent-minded and seemed\ +occupied not with what was before his eyes but with something special of\ +his own. The difference between his former and present self was that\ +formerly when he did not grasp what lay before him or was said to him,\ +he had puckered his forehead painfully as if vainly seeking to\ +distinguish something at a distance. At present he still forgot what was\ +said to him and still did not see what was before his eyes, but he now\ +looked with a scarcely perceptible and seemingly ironic smile at what\ +was before him and listened to what was said, though evidently seeing\ +and hearing something quite different. Formerly he had appeared to be a\ +kindhearted but unhappy man, and so people had been inclined to avoid\ +him. Now a smile at the joy of life always played round his lips, and\ +sympathy for others, shone in his eyes with a questioning look as to\ +whether they were as contented as he was, and people felt pleased by his\ +presence.\ +\ +Previously he had talked a great deal, grew excited when he talked, and\ +seldom listened; now he was seldom carried away in conversation and knew\ +how to listen so that people readily told him their most intimate\ +secrets.\ +\ +The princess, who had never liked Pierre and had been particularly\ +hostile to him since she had felt herself under obligations to him after\ +the old count's death, now after staying a short time in Orel--where she\ +had come intending to show Pierre that in spite of his ingratitude she\ +considered it her duty to nurse him--felt to her surprise and vexation\ +that she had become fond of him. Pierre did not in any way seek her\ +approval, he merely studied her with interest. Formerly she had felt\ +that he regarded her with indifference and irony, and so had shrunk into\ +herself as she did with others and had shown him only the combative side\ +of her nature; but now he seemed to be trying to understand the most\ +intimate places of her heart, and, mistrustfully at first but afterwards\ +gratefully, she let him see the hidden, kindly sides of her character.\ +\ +The most cunning man could not have crept into her confidence more\ +successfully, evoking memories of the best times of her youth and\ +showing sympathy with them. Yet Pierre's cunning consisted simply in\ +finding pleasure in drawing out the human qualities of the embittered,\ +hard, and (in her own way) proud princess.\ +\ +"Yes, he is a very, very kind man when he is not under the influence of\ +bad people but of people such as myself," thought she.\ +\ +His servants too--Terenty and Vaska--in their own way noticed the change\ +that had taken place in Pierre. They considered that he had become much\ +"simpler." Terenty, when he had helped him undress and wished him good\ +night, often lingered with his master's boots in his hands and clothes\ +over his arm, to see whether he would not start a talk. And Pierre,\ +noticing that Terenty wanted a chat, generally kept him there.\ +\ +"Well, tell me... now, how did you get food?" he would ask.\ +\ +And Terenty would begin talking of the destruction of Moscow, and of the\ +old count, and would stand for a long time holding the clothes and\ +talking, or sometimes listening to Pierre's stories, and then would go\ +out into the hall with a pleasant sense of intimacy with his master and\ +affection for him.\ +\ +The doctor who attended Pierre and visited him every day, though he\ +considered it his duty as a doctor to pose as a man whose every moment\ +was of value to suffering humanity, would sit for hours with Pierre\ +telling him his favorite anecdotes and his observations on the\ +characters of his patients in general, and especially of the ladies.\ +\ +"It's a pleasure to talk to a man like that; he is not like our\ +provincials," he would say.\ +\ +There were several prisoners from the French army in Orel, and the\ +doctor brought one of them, a young Italian, to see Pierre.\ +\ +This officer began visiting Pierre, and the princess used to make fun of\ +the tenderness the Italian expressed for him.\ +\ +The Italian seemed happy only when he could come to see Pierre, talk\ +with him, tell him about his past, his life at home, and his love, and\ +pour out to him his indignation against the French and especially\ +against Napoleon.\ +\ +"If all Russians are in the least like you, it is sacrilege to fight\ +such a nation," he said to Pierre. "You, who have suffered so from the\ +French, do not even feel animosity toward them."\ +\ +Pierre had evoked the passionate affection of the Italian merely by\ +evoking the best side of his nature and taking a pleasure in so doing.\ +\ +During the last days of Pierre's stay in Orel his old masonic\ +acquaintance Count Willarski, who had introduced him to the lodge in\ +1807, came to see him. Willarski was married to a Russian heiress who\ +had a large estate in Orel province, and he occupied a temporary post in\ +the commissariat department in that town.\ +\ +Hearing that Bezukhov was in Orel, Willarski, though they had never been\ +intimate, came to him with the professions of friendship and intimacy\ +that people who meet in a desert generally express for one another.\ +Willarski felt dull in Orel and was pleased to meet a man of his own\ +circle and, as he supposed, of similar interests.\ +\ +But to his surprise Willarski soon noticed that Pierre had lagged much\ +behind the times, and had sunk, as he expressed it to himself, into\ +apathy and egotism.\ +\ +"You are letting yourself go, my dear fellow," he said.\ +\ +But for all that Willarski found it pleasanter now than it had been\ +formerly to be with Pierre, and came to see him every day. To Pierre as\ +he looked at and listened to Willarski, it seemed strange to think that\ +he had been like that himself but a short time before.\ +\ +Willarski was a married man with a family, busy with his family affairs,\ +his wife's affairs, and his official duties. He regarded all these\ +occupations as hindrances to life, and considered that they were all\ +contemptible because their aim was the welfare of himself and his\ +family. Military, administrative, political, and masonic interests\ +continually absorbed his attention. And Pierre, without trying to change\ +the other's views and without condemning him, but with the quiet,\ +joyful, and amused smile now habitual to him, was interested in this\ +strange though very familiar phenomenon.\ +\ +There was a new feature in Pierre's relations with Willarski, with the\ +princess, with the doctor, and with all the people he now met, which\ +gained for him the general good will. This was his acknowledgment of the\ +impossibility of changing a man's convictions by words, and his\ +recognition of the possibility of everyone thinking, feeling, and seeing\ +things each from his own point of view. This legitimate peculiarity of\ +each individual which used to excite and irritate Pierre now became a\ +basis of the sympathy he felt for, and the interest he took in, other\ +people. The difference, and sometimes complete contradiction, between\ +men's opinions and their lives, and between one man and another, pleased\ +him and drew from him an amused and gentle smile.\ +\ +In practical matters Pierre unexpectedly felt within himself a center of\ +gravity he had previously lacked. Formerly all pecuniary questions,\ +especially requests for money to which, as an extremely wealthy man, he\ +was very exposed, produced in him a state of hopeless agitation and\ +perplexity. "To give or not to give?" he had asked himself. "I have it\ +and he needs it. But someone else needs it still more. Who needs it\ +most? And perhaps they are both impostors?" In the old days he had been\ +unable to find a way out of all these surmises and had given to all who\ +asked as long as he had anything to give. Formerly he had been in a\ +similar state of perplexity with regard to every question concerning his\ +property, when one person advised one thing and another something else.\ +\ +Now to his surprise he found that he no longer felt either doubt or\ +perplexity about these questions. There was now within him a judge who\ +by some rule unknown to him decided what should or should not be done.\ +\ +He was as indifferent as heretofore to money matters, but now he felt\ +certain of what ought and what ought not to be done. The first time he\ +had recourse to his new judge was when a French prisoner, a colonel,\ +came to him and, after talking a great deal about his exploits,\ +concluded by making what amounted to a demand that Pierre should give\ +him four thousand francs to send to his wife and children. Pierre\ +refused without the least difficulty or effort, and was afterwards\ +surprised how simple and easy had been what used to appear so\ +insurmountably difficult. At the same time that he refused the colonel's\ +demand he made up his mind that he must have recourse to artifice when\ +leaving Orel, to induce the Italian officer to accept some money of\ +which he was evidently in need. A further proof to Pierre of his own\ +more settled outlook on practical matters was furnished by his decision\ +with regard to his wife's debts and to the rebuilding of his houses in\ +and near Moscow.\ +\ +His head steward came to him at Orel and Pierre reckoned up with him his\ +diminished income. The burning of Moscow had cost him, according to the\ +head steward's calculation, about two million rubles.\ +\ +To console Pierre for these losses the head steward gave him an estimate\ +showing that despite these losses his income would not be diminished but\ +would even be increased if he refused to pay his wife's debts which he\ +was under no obligation to meet, and did not rebuild his Moscow house\ +and the country house on his Moscow estate, which had cost him eighty\ +thousand rubles a year and brought in nothing.\ +\ +"Yes, of course that's true," said Pierre with a cheerful smile. "I\ +don't need all that at all. By being ruined I have become much richer."\ +\ +But in January Savelich came from Moscow and gave him an account of the\ +state of things there, and spoke of the estimate an architect had made\ +of the cost of rebuilding the town and country houses, speaking of this\ +as of a settled matter. About the same time he received letters from\ +Prince Vasili and other Petersburg acquaintances speaking of his wife's\ +debts. And Pierre decided that the steward's proposals which had so\ +pleased him were wrong and that he must go to Petersburg and settle his\ +wife's affairs and must rebuild in Moscow. Why this was necessary he did\ +not know, but he knew for certain that it was necessary. His income\ +would be reduced by three fourths, but he felt it must be done.\ +\ +Willarski was going to Moscow and they agreed to travel together.\ +\ +During the whole time of his convalescence in Orel Pierre had\ +experienced a feeling of joy, freedom, and life; but when during his\ +journey he found himself in the open world and saw hundreds of new\ +faces, that feeling was intensified. Throughout his journey he felt like\ +a schoolboy on holiday. Everyone--the stagecoach driver, the post-house\ +overseers, the peasants on the roads and in the villages--had a new\ +significance for him. The presence and remarks of Willarski who\ +continually deplored the ignorance and poverty of Russia and its\ +backwardness compared with Europe only heightened Pierre's pleasure.\ +Where Willarski saw deadness Pierre saw an extraordinary strength and\ +vitality--the strength which in that vast space amid the snows\ +maintained the life of this original, peculiar, and unique people. He\ +did not contradict Willarski and even seemed to agree with him--an\ +apparent agreement being the simplest way to avoid discussions that\ +could lead to nothing--and he smiled joyfully as he listened to him.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XIV\ +\ +It would be difficult to explain why and whither ants whose heap has\ +been destroyed are hurrying: some from the heap dragging bits of\ +rubbish, larvae, and corpses, others back to the heap, or why they\ +jostle, overtake one another, and fight, and it would be equally\ +difficult to explain what caused the Russians after the departure of the\ +French to throng to the place that had formerly been Moscow. But when we\ +watch the ants round their ruined heap, the tenacity, energy, and\ +immense number of the delving insects prove that despite the destruction\ +of the heap, something indestructible, which though intangible is the\ +real strength of the colony, still exists; and similarly, though in\ +Moscow in the month of October there was no government and no churches,\ +shrines, riches, or houses--it was still the Moscow it had been in\ +August. All was destroyed, except something intangible yet powerful and\ +indestructible.\ +\ +The motives of those who thronged from all sides to Moscow after it had\ +been cleared of the enemy were most diverse and personal, and at first\ +for the most part savage and brutal. One motive only they all had in\ +common: a desire to get to the place that had been called Moscow, to\ +apply their activities there.\ +\ +Within a week Moscow already had fifteen thousand inhabitants, in a\ +fortnight twenty-five thousand, and so on. By the autumn of 1813 the\ +number, ever increasing and increasing, exceeded what it had been in\ +1812.\ +\ +The first Russians to enter Moscow were the Cossacks of Wintzingerode's\ +detachment, peasants from the adjacent villages, and residents who had\ +fled from Moscow and had been hiding in its vicinity. The Russians who\ +entered Moscow, finding it plundered, plundered it in their turn. They\ +continued what the French had begun. Trains of peasant carts came to\ +Moscow to carry off to the villages what had been abandoned in the\ +ruined houses and the streets. The Cossacks carried off what they could\ +to their camps, and the householders seized all they could find in other\ +houses and moved it to their own, pretending that it was their property.\ +\ +But the first plunderers were followed by a second and a third\ +contingent, and with increasing numbers plundering became more and more\ +difficult and assumed more definite forms.\ +\ +The French found Moscow abandoned but with all the organizations of\ +regular life, with diverse branches of commerce and craftsmanship, with\ +luxury, and governmental and religious institutions. These forms were\ +lifeless but still existed. There were bazaars, shops, warehouses,\ +market stalls, granaries--for the most part still stocked with goods--\ +and there were factories and workshops, palaces and wealthy houses\ +filled with luxuries, hospitals, prisons, government offices, churches,\ +and cathedrals. The longer the French remained the more these forms of\ +town life perished, until finally all was merged into one confused,\ +lifeless scene of plunder.\ +\ +The more the plundering by the French continued, the more both the\ +wealth of Moscow and the strength of its plunderers was destroyed. But\ +plundering by the Russians, with which the reoccupation of the city\ +began, had an opposite effect: the longer it continued and the greater\ +the number of people taking part in it the more rapidly was the wealth\ +of the city and its regular life restored.\ +\ +Besides the plunderers, very various people, some drawn by curiosity,\ +some by official duties, some by self-interest--house owners, clergy,\ +officials of all kinds, tradesmen, artisans, and peasants--streamed into\ +Moscow as blood flows to the heart.\ +\ +Within a week the peasants who came with empty carts to carry off\ +plunder were stopped by the authorities and made to cart the corpses out\ +of the town. Other peasants, having heard of their comrades'\ +discomfiture, came to town bringing rye, oats, and hay, and beat down\ +one another's prices to below what they had been in former days. Gangs\ +of carpenters hoping for high pay arrived in Moscow every day, and on\ +all sides logs were being hewn, new houses built, and old, charred ones\ +repaired. Tradesmen began trading in booths. Cookshops and taverns were\ +opened in partially burned houses. The clergy resumed the services in\ +many churches that had not been burned. Donors contributed Church\ +property that had been stolen. Government clerks set up their baize-\ +covered tables and their pigeonholes of documents in small rooms. The\ +higher authorities and the police organized the distribution of goods\ +left behind by the French. The owners of houses in which much property\ +had been left, brought there from other houses, complained of the\ +injustice of taking everything to the Faceted Palace in the Kremlin;\ +others insisted that as the French had gathered things from different\ +houses into this or that house, it would be unfair to allow its owner to\ +keep all that was found there. They abused the police and bribed them,\ +made out estimates at ten times their value for government stores that\ +had perished in the fire, and demanded relief. And Count Rostopchin\ +wrote proclamations.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XV\ +\ +At the end of January Pierre went to Moscow and stayed in an annex of\ +his house which had not been burned. He called on Count Rostopchin and\ +on some acquaintances who were back in Moscow, and he intended to leave\ +for Petersburg two days later. Everybody was celebrating the victory,\ +everything was bubbling with life in the ruined but reviving city.\ +Everyone was pleased to see Pierre, everyone wished to meet him, and\ +everyone questioned him about what he had seen. Pierre felt particularly\ +well disposed toward them all, but was now instinctively on his guard\ +for fear of binding himself in any way. To all questions put to him--\ +whether important or quite trifling--such as: Where would he live? Was\ +he going to rebuild? When was he going to Petersburg and would he mind\ +taking a parcel for someone?--he replied: "Yes, perhaps," or, "I think\ +so," and so on.\ +\ +He had heard that the Rostovs were at Kostroma but the thought of\ +Natasha seldom occurred to him. If it did it was only as a pleasant\ +memory of the distant past. He felt himself not only free from social\ +obligations but also from that feeling which, it seemed to him, he had\ +aroused in himself.\ +\ +On the third day after his arrival he heard from the Drubetskoys that\ +Princess Mary was in Moscow. The death, sufferings, and last days of\ +Prince Andrew had often occupied Pierre's thoughts and now recurred to\ +him with fresh vividness. Having heard at dinner that Princess Mary was\ +in Moscow and living in her house--which had not been burned--in\ +Vozdvizhenka Street, he drove that same evening to see her.\ +\ +On his way to the house Pierre kept thinking of Prince Andrew, of their\ +friendship, of his various meetings with him, and especially of the last\ +one at Borodino.\ +\ +"Is it possible that he died in the bitter frame of mind he was then in?\ +Is it possible that the meaning of life was not disclosed to him before\ +he died?" thought Pierre. He recalled Karataev and his death and\ +involuntarily began to compare these two men, so different, and yet so\ +similar in that they had both lived and both died and in the love he\ +felt for both of them.\ +\ +Pierre drove up to the house of the old prince in a most serious mood.\ +The house had escaped the fire; it showed signs of damage but its\ +general aspect was unchanged. The old footman, who met Pierre with a\ +stern face as if wishing to make the visitor feel that the absence of\ +the old prince had not disturbed the order of things in the house,\ +informed him that the princess had gone to her own apartments, and that\ +she received on Sundays.\ +\ +"Announce me. Perhaps she will see me," said Pierre.\ +\ +"Yes, sir," said the man. "Please step into the portrait gallery."\ +\ +A few minutes later the footman returned with Dessalles, who brought\ +word from the princess that she would be very glad to see Pierre if he\ +would excuse her want of ceremony and come upstairs to her apartment.\ +\ +In a rather low room lit by one candle sat the princess and with her\ +another person dressed in black. Pierre remembered that the princess\ +always had lady companions, but who they were and what they were like he\ +never knew or remembered. "This must be one of her companions," he\ +thought, glancing at the lady in the black dress.\ +\ +The princess rose quickly to meet him and held out her hand.\ +\ +"Yes," she said, looking at his altered face after he had kissed her\ +hand, "so this is how we meet again. He spoke of you even at the very\ +last," she went on, turning her eyes from Pierre to her companion with a\ +shyness that surprised him for an instant.\ +\ +"I was so glad to hear of your safety. It was the first piece of good\ +news we had received for a long time."\ +\ +Again the princess glanced round at her companion with even more\ +uneasiness in her manner and was about to add something, but Pierre\ +interrupted her.\ +\ +"Just imagine--I knew nothing about him!" said he. "I thought he had\ +been killed. All I know I heard at second hand from others. I only know\ +that he fell in with the Rostovs.... What a strange coincidence!"\ +\ +Pierre spoke rapidly and with animation. He glanced once at the\ +companion's face, saw her attentive and kindly gaze fixed on him, and,\ +as often happens when one is talking, felt somehow that this companion\ +in the black dress was a good, kind, excellent creature who would not\ +hinder his conversing freely with Princess Mary.\ +\ +But when he mentioned the Rostovs, Princess Mary's face expressed still\ +greater embarrassment. She again glanced rapidly from Pierre's face to\ +that of the lady in the black dress and said:\ +\ +"Do you really not recognize her?"\ +\ +Pierre looked again at the companion's pale, delicate face with its\ +black eyes and peculiar mouth, and something near to him, long forgotten\ +and more than sweet, looked at him from those attentive eyes.\ +\ +"But no, it can't be!" he thought. "This stern, thin, pale face that\ +looks so much older! It cannot be she. It merely reminds me of her." But\ +at that moment Princess Mary said, "Natasha!" And with difficulty,\ +effort, and stress, like the opening of a door grown rusty on its\ +hinges, a smile appeared on the face with the attentive eyes, and from\ +that opening door came a breath of fragrance which suffused Pierre with\ +a happiness he had long forgotten and of which he had not even been\ +thinking--especially at that moment. It suffused him, seized him, and\ +enveloped him completely. When she smiled doubt was no longer possible,\ +it was Natasha and he loved her.\ +\ +At that moment Pierre involuntarily betrayed to her, to Princess Mary,\ +and above all to himself, a secret of which he himself had been unaware.\ +He flushed joyfully yet with painful distress. He tried to hide his\ +agitation. But the more he tried to hide it the more clearly--clearer\ +than any words could have done--did he betray to himself, to her, and to\ +Princess Mary that he loved her.\ +\ +"No, it's only the unexpectedness of it," thought Pierre. But as soon as\ +he tried to continue the conversation he had begun with Princess Mary he\ +again glanced at Natasha, and a still-deeper flush suffused his face and\ +a still-stronger agitation of mingled joy and fear seized his soul. He\ +became confused in his speech and stopped in the middle of what he was\ +saying.\ +\ +Pierre had failed to notice Natasha because he did not at all expect to\ +see her there, but he had failed to recognize her because the change in\ +her since he last saw her was immense. She had grown thin and pale, but\ +that was not what made her unrecognizable; she was unrecognizable at the\ +moment he entered because on that face whose eyes had always shone with\ +a suppressed smile of the joy of life, now when he first entered and\ +glanced at her there was not the least shadow of a smile: only her eyes\ +were kindly attentive and sadly interrogative.\ +\ +Pierre's confusion was not reflected by any confusion on Natasha's part,\ +but only by the pleasure that just perceptibly lit up her whole face.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XVI\ +\ +"She has come to stay with me," said Princess Mary. "The count and\ +countess will be here in a few days. The countess is in a dreadful\ +state; but it was necessary for Natasha herself to see a doctor. They\ +insisted on her coming with me."\ +\ +"Yes, is there a family free from sorrow now?" said Pierre, addressing\ +Natasha. "You know it happened the very day we were rescued. I saw him.\ +What a delightful boy he was!"\ +\ +Natasha looked at him, and by way of answer to his words her eyes\ +widened and lit up.\ +\ +"What can one say or think of as a consolation?" said Pierre. "Nothing!\ +Why had such a splendid boy, so full of life, to die?"\ +\ +"Yes, in these days it would be hard to live without faith..." remarked\ +Princess Mary.\ +\ +"Yes, yes, that is really true," Pierre hastily interrupted her.\ +\ +"Why is it true?" Natasha asked, looking attentively into Pierre's eyes.\ +\ +"How can you ask why?" said Princess Mary. "The thought alone of what\ +awaits..."\ +\ +Natasha without waiting for Princess Mary to finish again looked\ +inquiringly at Pierre.\ +\ +"And because," Pierre continued, "only one who believes that there is a\ +God ruling us can bear a loss such as hers and... yours."\ +\ +Natasha had already opened her mouth to speak but suddenly stopped.\ +Pierre hurriedly turned away from her and again addressed Princess Mary,\ +asking about his friend's last days.\ +\ +Pierre's confusion had now almost vanished, but at the same time he felt\ +that his freedom had also completely gone. He felt that there was now a\ +judge of his every word and action whose judgment mattered more to him\ +than that of all the rest of the world. As he spoke now he was\ +considering what impression his words would make on Natasha. He did not\ +purposely say things to please her, but whatever he was saying he\ +regarded from her standpoint.\ +\ +Princess Mary--reluctantly as is usual in such cases--began telling of\ +the condition in which she had found Prince Andrew. But Pierre's face\ +quivering with emotion, his questions and his eager restless expression,\ +gradually compelled her to go into details which she feared to recall\ +for her own sake.\ +\ +"Yes, yes, and so...?" Pierre kept saying as he leaned toward her with\ +his whole body and eagerly listened to her story. "Yes, yes... so he\ +grew tranquil and softened? With all his soul he had always sought one\ +thing--to be perfectly good--so he could not be afraid of death. The\ +faults he had--if he had any--were not of his making. So he did\ +soften?... What a happy thing that he saw you again," he added, suddenly\ +turning to Natasha and looking at her with eyes full of tears.\ +\ +Natasha's face twitched. She frowned and lowered her eyes for a moment.\ +She hesitated for an instant whether to speak or not.\ +\ +"Yes, that was happiness," she then said in her quiet voice with its\ +deep chest notes. "For me it certainly was happiness." She paused. "And\ +he... he... he said he was wishing for it at the very moment I entered\ +the room...."\ +\ +Natasha's voice broke. She blushed, pressed her clasped hands on her\ +knees, and then controlling herself with an evident effort lifted her\ +head and began to speak rapidly.\ +\ +"We knew nothing of it when we started from Moscow. I did not dare to\ +ask about him. Then suddenly Sonya told me he was traveling with us. I\ +had no idea and could not imagine what state he was in, all I wanted was\ +to see him and be with him," she said, trembling, and breathing quickly.\ +\ +And not letting them interrupt her she went on to tell what she had\ +never yet mentioned to anyone--all she had lived through during those\ +three weeks of their journey and life at Yaroslavl.\ +\ +Pierre listened to her with lips parted and eyes fixed upon her full of\ +tears. As he listened he did not think of Prince Andrew, nor of death,\ +nor of what she was telling. He listened to her and felt only pity for\ +her, for what she was suffering now while she was speaking.\ +\ +Princess Mary, frowning in her effort to hold back her tears, sat beside\ +Natasha, and heard for the first time the story of those last days of\ +her brother's and Natasha's love.\ +\ +Evidently Natasha needed to tell that painful yet joyful tale.\ +\ +She spoke, mingling most trifling details with the intimate secrets of\ +her soul, and it seemed as if she could never finish. Several times she\ +repeated the same thing twice.\ +\ +Dessalles' voice was heard outside the door asking whether little\ +Nicholas might come in to say good night.\ +\ +"Well, that's all--everything," said Natasha.\ +\ +She got up quickly just as Nicholas entered, almost ran to the door\ +which was hidden by curtains, struck her head against it, and rushed\ +from the room with a moan either of pain or sorrow.\ +\ +Pierre gazed at the door through which she had disappeared and did not\ +understand why he suddenly felt all alone in the world.\ +\ +Princess Mary roused him from his abstraction by drawing his attention\ +to her nephew who had entered the room.\ +\ +At that moment of emotional tenderness young Nicholas' face, which\ +resembled his father's, affected Pierre so much that when he had kissed\ +the boy he got up quickly, took out his handkerchief, and went to the\ +window. He wished to take leave of Princess Mary, but she would not let\ +him go.\ +\ +"No, Natasha and I sometimes don't go to sleep till after two, so please\ +don't go. I will order supper. Go downstairs, we will come immediately."\ +\ +Before Pierre left the room Princess Mary told him: "This is the first\ +time she has talked of him like that."\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XVII\ +\ +Pierre was shown into the large, brightly lit dining room; a few minutes\ +later he heard footsteps and Princess Mary entered with Natasha. Natasha\ +was calm, though a severe and grave expression had again settled on her\ +face. They all three of them now experienced that feeling of awkwardness\ +which usually follows after a serious and heartfelt talk. It is\ +impossible to go back to the same conversation, to talk of trifles is\ +awkward, and yet the desire to speak is there and silence seems like\ +affectation. They went silently to table. The footmen drew back the\ +chairs and pushed them up again. Pierre unfolded his cold table napkin\ +and, resolving to break the silence, looked at Natasha and at Princess\ +Mary. They had evidently both formed the same resolution; the eyes of\ +both shone with satisfaction and a confession that besides sorrow life\ +also has joy.\ +\ +"Do you take vodka, Count?" asked Princess Mary, and those words\ +suddenly banished the shadows of the past. "Now tell us about yourself,"\ +said she. "One hears such improbable wonders about you."\ +\ +"Yes," replied Pierre with the smile of mild irony now habitual to him.\ +"They even tell me wonders I myself never dreamed of! Mary Abramovna\ +invited me to her house and kept telling me what had happened, or ought\ +to have happened, to me. Stepan Stepanych also instructed me how I ought\ +to tell of my experiences. In general I have noticed that it is very\ +easy to be an interesting man (I am an interesting man now); people\ +invite me out and tell me all about myself."\ +\ +Natasha smiled and was on the point of speaking.\ +\ +"We have been told," Princess Mary interrupted her, "that you lost two\ +millions in Moscow. Is that true?"\ +\ +"But I am three times as rich as before," returned Pierre.\ +\ +Though the position was now altered by his decision to pay his wife's\ +debts and to rebuild his houses, Pierre still maintained that he had\ +become three times as rich as before.\ +\ +"What I have certainly gained is freedom," he began seriously, but did\ +not continue, noticing that this theme was too egotistic.\ +\ +"And are you building?"\ +\ +"Yes. Savelich says I must!"\ +\ +"Tell me, you did not know of the countess' death when you decided to\ +remain in Moscow?" asked Princess Mary and immediately blushed, noticing\ +that her question, following his mention of freedom, ascribed to his\ +words a meaning he had perhaps not intended.\ +\ +"No," answered Pierre, evidently not considering awkward the meaning\ +Princess Mary had given to his words. "I heard of it in Orel and you\ +cannot imagine how it shocked me. We were not an exemplary couple," he\ +added quickly, glancing at Natasha and noticing on her face curiosity as\ +to how he would speak of his wife, "but her death shocked me terribly.\ +When two people quarrel they are always both in fault, and one's own\ +guilt suddenly becomes terribly serious when the other is no longer\ +alive. And then such a death... without friends and without consolation!\ +I am very, very sorry for her," he concluded, and was pleased to notice\ +a look of glad approval on Natasha's face.\ +\ +"Yes, and so you are once more an eligible bachelor," said Princess\ +Mary.\ +\ +Pierre suddenly flushed crimson and for a long time tried not to look at\ +Natasha. When he ventured to glance her way again her face was cold,\ +stern, and he fancied even contemptuous.\ +\ +"And did you really see and speak to Napoleon, as we have been told?"\ +said Princess Mary.\ +\ +Pierre laughed.\ +\ +"No, not once! Everybody seems to imagine that being taken prisoner\ +means being Napoleon's guest. Not only did I never see him but I heard\ +nothing about him--I was in much lower company!"\ +\ +Supper was over, and Pierre who at first declined to speak about his\ +captivity was gradually led on to do so.\ +\ +"But it's true that you remained in Moscow to kill Napoleon?" Natasha\ +asked with a slight smile. "I guessed it then when we met at the\ +Sukharev tower, do you remember?"\ +\ +Pierre admitted that it was true, and from that was gradually led by\ +Princess Mary's questions and especially by Natasha's into giving a\ +detailed account of his adventures.\ +\ +At first he spoke with the amused and mild irony now customary with him\ +toward everybody and especially toward himself, but when he came to\ +describe the horrors and sufferings he had witnessed he was\ +unconsciously carried away and began speaking with the suppressed\ +emotion of a man re-experiencing in recollection strong impressions he\ +has lived through.\ +\ +Princess Mary with a gentle smile looked now at Pierre and now at\ +Natasha. In the whole narrative she saw only Pierre and his goodness.\ +Natasha, leaning on her elbow, the expression of her face constantly\ +changing with the narrative, watched Pierre with an attention that never\ +wandered--evidently herself experiencing all that he described. Not only\ +her look, but her exclamations and the brief questions she put, showed\ +Pierre that she understood just what he wished to convey. It was clear\ +that she understood not only what he said but also what he wished to,\ +but could not, express in words. The account Pierre gave of the incident\ +with the child and the woman for protecting whom he was arrested was\ +this: "It was an awful sight--children abandoned, some in the flames...\ +One was snatched out before my eyes... and there were women who had\ +their things snatched off and their earrings torn out..." he flushed and\ +grew confused. "Then a patrol arrived and all the men--all those who\ +were not looting, that is--were arrested, and I among them."\ +\ +"I am sure you're not telling us everything; I am sure you did\ +something..." said Natasha and pausing added, "something fine?"\ +\ +Pierre continued. When he spoke of the execution he wanted to pass over\ +the horrible details, but Natasha insisted that he should not omit\ +anything.\ +\ +Pierre began to tell about Karataev, but paused. By this time he had\ +risen from the table and was pacing the room, Natasha following him with\ +her eyes. Then he added:\ +\ +"No, you can't understand what I learned from that illiterate man--that\ +simple fellow."\ +\ +"Yes, yes, go on!" said Natasha. "Where is he?"\ +\ +"They killed him almost before my eyes."\ +\ +And Pierre, his voice trembling continually, went on to tell of the last\ +days of their retreat, of Karataev's illness and his death.\ +\ +He told of his adventures as he had never yet recalled them. He now, as\ +it were, saw a new meaning in all he had gone through. Now that he was\ +telling it all to Natasha he experienced that pleasure which a man has\ +when women listen to him--not clever women who when listening either try\ +to remember what they hear to enrich their minds and when opportunity\ +offers to retell it, or who wish to adopt it to some thought of their\ +own and promptly contribute their own clever comments prepared in their\ +little mental workshop--but the pleasure given by real women gifted with\ +a capacity to select and absorb the very best a man shows of himself.\ +Natasha without knowing it was all attention: she did not lose a word,\ +no single quiver in Pierre's voice, no look, no twitch of a muscle in\ +his face, nor a single gesture. She caught the unfinished word in its\ +flight and took it straight into her open heart, divining the secret\ +meaning of all Pierre's mental travail.\ +\ +Princess Mary understood his story and sympathized with him, but she now\ +saw something else that absorbed all her attention. She saw the\ +possibility of love and happiness between Natasha and Pierre, and the\ +first thought of this filled her heart with gladness.\ +\ +It was three o'clock in the morning. The footmen came in with sad and\ +stern faces to change the candles, but no one noticed them.\ +\ +Pierre finished his story. Natasha continued to look at him intently\ +with bright, attentive, and animated eyes, as if trying to understand\ +something more which he had perhaps left untold. Pierre in shamefaced\ +and happy confusion glanced occasionally at her, and tried to think what\ +to say next to introduce a fresh subject. Princess Mary was silent. It\ +occurred to none of them that it was three o'clock and time to go to\ +bed.\ +\ +"People speak of misfortunes and sufferings," remarked Pierre, "but if\ +at this moment I were asked: 'Would you rather be what you were before\ +you were taken prisoner, or go through all this again?' then for\ +heaven's sake let me again have captivity and horseflesh! We imagine\ +that when we are thrown out of our usual ruts all is lost, but it is\ +only then that what is new and good begins. While there is life there is\ +happiness. There is much, much before us. I say this to you," he added,\ +turning to Natasha.\ +\ +"Yes, yes," she said, answering something quite different. "I too should\ +wish nothing but to relive it all from the beginning."\ +\ +Pierre looked intently at her.\ +\ +"Yes, and nothing more," said Natasha.\ +\ +"It's not true, not true!" cried Pierre. "I am not to blame for being\ +alive and wishing to live--nor you either."\ +\ +Suddenly Natasha bent her head, covered her face with her hands, and\ +began to cry.\ +\ +"What is it, Natasha?" said Princess Mary.\ +\ +"Nothing, nothing." She smiled at Pierre through her tears. "Good night!\ +It is time for bed."\ +\ +Pierre rose and took his leave.\ +\ +Princess Mary and Natasha met as usual in the bedroom. They talked of\ +what Pierre had told them. Princess Mary did not express her opinion of\ +Pierre nor did Natasha speak of him.\ +\ +"Well, good night, Mary!" said Natasha. "Do you know, I am often afraid\ +that by not speaking of him" (she meant Prince Andrew) "for fear of not\ +doing justice to our feelings, we forget him."\ +\ +Princess Mary sighed deeply and thereby acknowledged the justice of\ +Natasha's remark, but she did not express agreement in words.\ +\ +"Is it possible to forget?" said she.\ +\ +"It did me so much good to tell all about it today. It was hard and\ +painful, but good, very good!" said Natasha. "I am sure he really loved\ +him. That is why I told him... Was it all right?" she added, suddenly\ +blushing.\ +\ +"To tell Pierre? Oh, yes. What a splendid man he is!" said Princess\ +Mary.\ +\ +"Do you know, Mary..." Natasha suddenly said with a mischievous smile\ +such as Princess Mary had not seen on her face for a long time, "he has\ +somehow grown so clean, smooth, and fresh--as if he had just come out of\ +a Russian bath; do you understand? Out of a moral bath. Isn't it true?"\ +\ +"Yes," replied Princess Mary. "He has greatly improved."\ +\ +"With a short coat and his hair cropped; just as if, well, just as if he\ +had come straight from the bath... Papa used to..."\ +\ +"I understand why he" (Prince Andrew) "liked no one so much as him,"\ +said Princess Mary.\ +\ +"Yes, and yet he is quite different. They say men are friends when they\ +are quite different. That must be true. Really he is quite unlike him--\ +in everything."\ +\ +"Yes, but he's wonderful."\ +\ +"Well, good night," said Natasha.\ +\ +And the same mischievous smile lingered for a long time on her face as\ +if it had been forgotten there.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XVIII\ +\ +It was a long time before Pierre could fall asleep that night. He paced\ +up and down his room, now turning his thoughts on a difficult problem\ +and frowning, now suddenly shrugging his shoulders and wincing, and now\ +smiling happily.\ +\ +He was thinking of Prince Andrew, of Natasha, and of their love, at one\ +moment jealous of her past, then reproaching himself for that feeling.\ +It was already six in the morning and he still paced up and down the\ +room.\ +\ +"Well, what's to be done if it cannot be avoided? What's to be done?\ +Evidently it has to be so," said he to himself, and hastily undressing\ +he got into bed, happy and agitated but free from hesitation or\ +indecision.\ +\ +"Strange and impossible as such happiness seems, I must do everything\ +that she and I may be man and wife," he told himself.\ +\ +A few days previously Pierre had decided to go to Petersburg on the\ +Friday. When he awoke on the Thursday, Savelich came to ask him about\ +packing for the journey.\ +\ +"What, to Petersburg? What is Petersburg? Who is there in Petersburg?"\ +he asked involuntarily, though only to himself. "Oh, yes, long ago\ +before this happened I did for some reason mean to go to Petersburg," he\ +reflected. "Why? But perhaps I shall go. What a good fellow he is and\ +how attentive, and how he remembers everything," he thought, looking at\ +Savelich's old face, "and what a pleasant smile he has!"\ +\ +"Well, Savelich, do you still not wish to accept your freedom?" Pierre\ +asked him.\ +\ +"What's the good of freedom to me, your excellency? We lived under the\ +late count--the kingdom of heaven be his!--and we have lived under you\ +too, without ever being wronged."\ +\ +"And your children?"\ +\ +"The children will live just the same. With such masters one can live."\ +\ +"But what about my heirs?" said Pierre. "Supposing I suddenly marry...\ +it might happen," he added with an involuntary smile.\ +\ +"If I may take the liberty, your excellency, it would be a good thing."\ +\ +"How easy he thinks it," thought Pierre. "He doesn't know how terrible\ +it is and how dangerous. Too soon or too late... it is terrible!"\ +\ +"So what are your orders? Are you starting tomorrow?" asked Savelich.\ +\ +"No, I'll put it off for a bit. I'll tell you later. You must forgive\ +the trouble I have put you to," said Pierre, and seeing Savelich smile,\ +he thought: "But how strange it is that he should not know that now\ +there is no Petersburg for me, and that that must be settled first of\ +all! But probably he knows it well enough and is only pretending. Shall\ +I have a talk with him and see what he thinks?" Pierre reflected. "No,\ +another time."\ +\ +At breakfast Pierre told the princess, his cousin, that he had been to\ +see Princess Mary the day before and had there met--"Whom do you think?\ +Natasha Rostova!"\ +\ +The princess seemed to see nothing more extraordinary in that than if he\ +had seen Anna Semenovna.\ +\ +"Do you know her?" asked Pierre.\ +\ +"I have seen the princess," she replied. "I heard that they were\ +arranging a match for her with young Rostov. It would be a very good\ +thing for the Rostovs, they are said to be utterly ruined."\ +\ +"No; I mean do you know Natasha Rostova?"\ +\ +"I heard about that affair of hers at the time. It was a great pity."\ +\ +"No, she either doesn't understand or is pretending," thought Pierre.\ +"Better not say anything to her either."\ +\ +The princess too had prepared provisions for Pierre's journey.\ +\ +"How kind they all are," thought Pierre. "What is surprising is that\ +they should trouble about these things now when it can no longer be of\ +interest to them. And all for me!"\ +\ +On the same day the Chief of Police came to Pierre, inviting him to send\ +a representative to the Faceted Palace to recover things that were to be\ +returned to their owners that day.\ +\ +"And this man too," thought Pierre, looking into the face of the Chief\ +of Police. "What a fine, good-looking officer and how kind. Fancy\ +bothering about such trifles now! And they actually say he is not honest\ +and takes bribes. What nonsense! Besides, why shouldn't he take bribes?\ +That's the way he was brought up, and everybody does it. But what a\ +kind, pleasant face and how he smiles as he looks at me."\ +\ +Pierre went to Princess Mary's to dinner.\ +\ +As he drove through the streets past the houses that had been burned\ +down, he was surprised by the beauty of those ruins. The picturesqueness\ +of the chimney stacks and tumble-down walls of the burned-out quarters\ +of the town, stretching out and concealing one another, reminded him of\ +the Rhine and the Colosseum. The cabmen he met and their passengers, the\ +carpenters cutting the timber for new houses with axes, the women\ +hawkers, and the shopkeepers, all looked at him with cheerful beaming\ +eyes that seemed to say: "Ah, there he is! Let's see what will come of\ +it!"\ +\ +At the entrance to Princess Mary's house Pierre felt doubtful whether he\ +had really been there the night before and really seen Natasha and\ +talked to her. "Perhaps I imagined it; perhaps I shall go in and find no\ +one there." But he had hardly entered the room before he felt her\ +presence with his whole being by the loss of his sense of freedom. She\ +was in the same black dress with soft folds and her hair was done the\ +same way as the day before, yet she was quite different. Had she been\ +like this when he entered the day before he could not for a moment have\ +failed to recognize her.\ +\ +She was as he had known her almost as a child and later on as Prince\ +Andrew's fiancee. A bright questioning light shone in her eyes, and on\ +her face was a friendly and strangely roguish expression.\ +\ +Pierre dined with them and would have spent the whole evening there, but\ +Princess Mary was going to vespers and Pierre left the house with her.\ +\ +Next day he came early, dined, and stayed the whole evening. Though\ +Princess Mary and Natasha were evidently glad to see their visitor and\ +though all Pierre's interest was now centered in that house, by the\ +evening they had talked over everything and the conversation passed from\ +one trivial topic to another and repeatedly broke off. He stayed so long\ +that Princess Mary and Natasha exchanged glances, evidently wondering\ +when he would go. Pierre noticed this but could not go. He felt uneasy\ +and embarrassed, but sat on because he simply could not get up and take\ +his leave.\ +\ +Princess Mary, foreseeing no end to this, rose first, and complaining of\ +a headache began to say good night.\ +\ +"So you are going to Petersburg tomorrow?" she asked.\ +\ +"No, I am not going," Pierre replied hastily, in a surprised tone and as\ +though offended. "Yes... no... to Petersburg? Tomorrow--but I won't say\ +good-by yet. I will call round in case you have any commissions for me,"\ +said he, standing before Princess Mary and turning red, but not taking\ +his departure.\ +\ +Natasha gave him her hand and went out. Princess Mary on the other hand\ +instead of going away sank into an armchair, and looked sternly and\ +intently at him with her deep, radiant eyes. The weariness she had\ +plainly shown before had now quite passed off. With a deep and long-\ +drawn sigh she seemed to be prepared for a lengthy talk.\ +\ +When Natasha left the room Pierre's confusion and awkwardness\ +immediately vanished and were replaced by eager excitement. He quickly\ +moved an armchair toward Princess Mary.\ +\ +"Yes, I wanted to tell you," said he, answering her look as if she had\ +spoken. "Princess, help me! What am I to do? Can I hope? Princess, my\ +dear friend, listen! I know it all. I know I am not worthy of her, I\ +know it's impossible to speak of it now. But I want to be a brother to\ +her. No, not that, I don't, I can't..."\ +\ +He paused and rubbed his face and eyes with his hands.\ +\ +"Well," he went on with an evident effort at self-control and coherence.\ +"I don't know when I began to love her, but I have loved her and her\ +alone all my life, and I love her so that I cannot imagine life without\ +her. I cannot propose to her at present, but the thought that perhaps\ +she might someday be my wife and that I may be missing that\ +possibility... that possibility... is terrible. Tell me, can I hope?\ +Tell me what I am to do, dear princess!" he added after a pause, and\ +touched her hand as she did not reply.\ +\ +"I am thinking of what you have told me," answered Princess Mary. "This\ +is what I will say. You are right that to speak to her of love at\ +present..."\ +\ +Princess Mary stopped. She was going to say that to speak of love was\ +impossible, but she stopped because she had seen by the sudden change in\ +Natasha two days before that she would not only not be hurt if Pierre\ +spoke of his love, but that it was the very thing she wished for.\ +\ +"To speak to her now wouldn't do," said the princess all the same.\ +\ +"But what am I to do?"\ +\ +"Leave it to me," said Princess Mary. "I know..."\ +\ +Pierre was looking into Princess Mary's eyes.\ +\ +"Well?... Well?..." he said.\ +\ +"I know that she loves... will love you," Princess Mary corrected\ +herself.\ +\ +Before her words were out, Pierre had sprung up and with a frightened\ +expression seized Princess Mary's hand.\ +\ +"What makes you think so? You think I may hope? You think...?"\ +\ +"Yes, I think so," said Princess Mary with a smile. "Write to her\ +parents, and leave it to me. I will tell her when I can. I wish it to\ +happen and my heart tells me it will."\ +\ +"No, it cannot be! How happy I am! But it can't be.... How happy I am!\ +No, it can't be!" Pierre kept saying as he kissed Princess Mary's hands.\ +\ +"Go to Petersburg, that will be best. And I will write to you," she\ +said.\ +\ +"To Petersburg? Go there? Very well, I'll go. But I may come again\ +tomorrow?"\ +\ +Next day Pierre came to say good-by. Natasha was less animated than she\ +had been the day before; but that day as he looked at her Pierre\ +sometimes felt as if he was vanishing and that neither he nor she\ +existed any longer, that nothing existed but happiness. "Is it possible?\ +No, it can't be," he told himself at every look, gesture, and word that\ +filled his soul with joy.\ +\ +When on saying good-by he took her thin, slender hand, he could not help\ +holding it a little longer in his own.\ +\ +"Is it possible that this hand, that face, those eyes, all this treasure\ +of feminine charm so strange to me now, is it possible that it will one\ +day be mine forever, as familiar to me as I am to myself?... No, that's\ +impossible!..."\ +\ +"Good-bye, Count," she said aloud. "I shall look forward very much to\ +your return," she added in a whisper.\ +\ +And these simple words, her look, and the expression on her face which\ +accompanied them, formed for two months the subject of inexhaustible\ +memories, interpretations, and happy meditations for Pierre. "'I shall\ +look forward very much to your return....' Yes, yes, how did she say it?\ +Yes, 'I shall look forward very much to your return.' Oh, how happy I\ +am! What is happening to me? How happy I am!" said Pierre to himself.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XIX\ +\ +There was nothing in Pierre's soul now at all like what had troubled it\ +during his courtship of Helene.\ +\ +He did not repeat to himself with a sickening feeling of shame the words\ +he had spoken, or say: "Oh, why did I not say that?" and, "Whatever made\ +me say 'Je vous aime'?" On the contrary, he now repeated in imagination\ +every word that he or Natasha had spoken and pictured every detail of\ +her face and smile, and did not wish to diminish or add anything, but\ +only to repeat it again and again. There was now not a shadow of doubt\ +in his mind as to whether what he had undertaken was right or wrong.\ +Only one terrible doubt sometimes crossed his mind: "Wasn't it all a\ +dream? Isn't Princess Mary mistaken? Am I not too conceited and self-\ +confident? I believe all this--and suddenly Princess Mary will tell her,\ +and she will be sure to smile and say: 'How strange! He must be deluding\ +himself. Doesn't he know that he is a man, just a man, while I...? I am\ +something altogether different and higher.'"\ +\ +That was the only doubt often troubling Pierre. He did not now make any\ +plans. The happiness before him appeared so inconceivable that if only\ +he could attain it, it would be the end of all things. Everything ended\ +with that.\ +\ +A joyful, unexpected frenzy, of which he had thought himself incapable,\ +possessed him. The whole meaning of life--not for him alone but for the\ +whole world--seemed to him centered in his love and the possibility of\ +being loved by her. At times everybody seemed to him to be occupied with\ +one thing only--his future happiness. Sometimes it seemed to him that\ +other people were all as pleased as he was himself and merely tried to\ +hide that pleasure by pretending to be busy with other interests. In\ +every word and gesture he saw allusions to his happiness. He often\ +surprised those he met by his significantly happy looks and smiles which\ +seemed to express a secret understanding between him and them. And when\ +he realized that people might not be aware of his happiness, he pitied\ +them with his whole heart and felt a desire somehow to explain to them\ +that all that occupied them was a mere frivolous trifle unworthy of\ +attention.\ +\ +When it was suggested to him that he should enter the civil service, or\ +when the war or any general political affairs were discussed on the\ +assumption that everybody's welfare depended on this or that issue of\ +events, he would listen with a mild and pitying smile and surprise\ +people by his strange comments. But at this time he saw everybody--both\ +those who, as he imagined, understood the real meaning of life (that is,\ +what he was feeling) and those unfortunates who evidently did not\ +understand it--in the bright light of the emotion that shone within\ +himself, and at once without any effort saw in everyone he met\ +everything that was good and worthy of being loved.\ +\ +When dealing with the affairs and papers of his dead wife, her memory\ +aroused in him no feeling but pity that she had not known the bliss he\ +now knew. Prince Vasili, who having obtained a new post and some fresh\ +decorations was particularly proud at this time, seemed to him a\ +pathetic, kindly old man much to be pitied.\ +\ +Often in afterlife Pierre recalled this period of blissful insanity. All\ +the views he formed of men and circumstances at this time remained true\ +for him always. He not only did not renounce them subsequently, but when\ +he was in doubt or inwardly at variance, he referred to the views he had\ +held at this time of his madness and they always proved correct.\ +\ +"I may have appeared strange and queer then," he thought, "but I was not\ +so mad as I seemed. On the contrary I was then wiser and had more\ +insight than at any other time, and understood all that is worth\ +understanding in life, because... because I was happy."\ +\ +Pierre's insanity consisted in not waiting, as he used to do, to\ +discover personal attributes which he termed "good qualities" in people\ +before loving them; his heart was now overflowing with love, and by\ +loving people without cause he discovered indubitable causes for loving\ +them.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XX\ +\ +After Pierre's departure that first evening, when Natasha had said to\ +Princess Mary with a gaily mocking smile: "He looks just, yes, just as\ +if he had come out of a Russian bath--in a short coat and with his hair\ +cropped," something hidden and unknown to herself, but irrepressible,\ +awoke in Natasha's soul.\ +\ +Everything: her face, walk, look, and voice, was suddenly altered. To\ +her own surprise a power of life and hope of happiness rose to the\ +surface and demanded satisfaction. From that evening she seemed to have\ +forgotten all that had happened to her. She no longer complained of her\ +position, did not say a word about the past, and no longer feared to\ +make happy plans for the future. She spoke little of Pierre, but when\ +Princess Mary mentioned him a long-extinguished light once more kindled\ +in her eyes and her lips curved with a strange smile.\ +\ +\ +The change that took place in Natasha at first surprised Princess Mary;\ +but when she understood its meaning it grieved her. "Can she have loved\ +my brother so little as to be able to forget him so soon?" she thought\ +when she reflected on the change. But when she was with Natasha she was\ +not vexed with her and did not reproach her. The reawakened power of\ +life that had seized Natasha was so evidently irrepressible and\ +unexpected by her that in her presence Princess Mary felt that she had\ +no right to reproach her even in her heart.\ +\ +Natasha gave herself up so fully and frankly to this new feeling that\ +she did not try to hide the fact that she was no longer sad, but bright\ +and cheerful.\ +\ +When Princess Mary returned to her room after her nocturnal talk with\ +Pierre, Natasha met her on the threshold.\ +\ +"He has spoken? Yes? He has spoken?" she repeated.\ +\ +And a joyful yet pathetic expression which seemed to beg forgiveness for\ +her joy settled on Natasha's face.\ +\ +"I wanted to listen at the door, but I knew you would tell me."\ +\ +Understandable and touching as the look with which Natasha gazed at her\ +seemed to Princess Mary, and sorry as she was to see her agitation,\ +these words pained her for a moment. She remembered her brother and his\ +love.\ +\ +"But what's to be done? She can't help it," thought the princess.\ +\ +And with a sad and rather stern look she told Natasha all that Pierre\ +had said. On hearing that he was going to Petersburg Natasha was\ +astounded.\ +\ +"To Petersburg!" she repeated as if unable to understand.\ +\ +But noticing the grieved expression on Princess Mary's face she guessed\ +the reason of that sadness and suddenly began to cry.\ +\ +"Mary," said she, "tell me what I should do! I am afraid of being bad.\ +Whatever you tell me, I will do. Tell me...."\ +\ +"You love him?"\ +\ +"Yes," whispered Natasha.\ +\ +"Then why are you crying? I am happy for your sake," said Princess Mary,\ +who because of those tears quite forgave Natasha's joy.\ +\ +"It won't be just yet--someday. Think what fun it will be when I am his\ +wife and you marry Nicholas!"\ +\ +"Natasha, I have asked you not to speak of that. Let us talk about you."\ +\ +They were silent awhile.\ +\ +"But why go to Petersburg?" Natasha suddenly asked, and hastily replied\ +to her own question. "But no, no, he must... Yes, Mary, He must...."\ +\ +FIRST EPILOGUE: 1813 - 20\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER I\ +\ +Seven years had passed. The storm-tossed sea of European history had\ +subsided within its shores and seemed to have become calm. But the\ +mysterious forces that move humanity (mysterious because the laws of\ +their motion are unknown to us) continued to operate.\ +\ +Though the surface of the sea of history seemed motionless, the movement\ +of humanity went on as unceasingly as the flow of time. Various groups\ +of people formed and dissolved, the coming formation and dissolution of\ +kingdoms and displacement of peoples was in course of preparation.\ +\ +The sea of history was not driven spasmodically from shore to shore as\ +previously. It was seething in its depths. Historic figures were not\ +borne by the waves from one shore to another as before. They now seemed\ +to rotate on one spot. The historical figures at the head of armies, who\ +formerly reflected the movement of the masses by ordering wars,\ +campaigns, and battles, now reflected the restless movement by political\ +and diplomatic combinations, laws, and treaties.\ +\ +The historians call this activity of the historical figures "the\ +reaction."\ +\ +In dealing with this period they sternly condemn the historical\ +personages who, in their opinion, caused what they describe as the\ +reaction. All the well-known people of that period, from Alexander and\ +Napoleon to Madame de Stael, Photius, Schelling, Fichte, Chateaubriand,\ +and the rest, pass before their stern judgment seat and are acquitted or\ +condemned according to whether they conduced to progress or to reaction.\ +\ +According to their accounts a reaction took place at that time in Russia\ +also, and the chief culprit was Alexander I, the same man who according\ +to them was the chief cause of the liberal movement at the commencement\ +of his reign, being the savior of Russia.\ +\ +There is no one in Russian literature now, from schoolboy essayist to\ +learned historian, who does not throw his little stone at Alexander for\ +things he did wrong at this period of his reign.\ +\ +"He ought to have acted in this way and in that way. In this case he did\ +well and in that case badly. He behaved admirably at the beginning of\ +his reign and during 1812, but acted badly by giving a constitution to\ +Poland, forming the Holy Alliance, entrusting power to Arakcheev,\ +favoring Golitsyn and mysticism, and afterwards Shishkov and Photius. He\ +also acted badly by concerning himself with the active army and\ +disbanding the Semenov regiment."\ +\ +It would take a dozen pages to enumerate all the reproaches the\ +historians address to him, based on their knowledge of what is good for\ +humanity.\ +\ +What do these reproaches mean?\ +\ +Do not the very actions for which the historians praise Alexander I (the\ +liberal attempts at the beginning of his reign, his struggle with\ +Napoleon, the firmness he displayed in 1812 and the campaign of 1813)\ +flow from the same sources--the circumstances of his birth, education,\ +and life--that made his personality what it was and from which the\ +actions for which they blame him (the Holy Alliance, the restoration of\ +Poland, and the reaction of 1820 and later) also flowed?\ +\ +In what does the substance of those reproaches lie?\ +\ +It lies in the fact that an historic character like Alexander I,\ +standing on the highest possible pinnacle of human power with the\ +blinding light of history focused upon him; a character exposed to those\ +strongest of all influences: the intrigues, flattery, and self-deception\ +inseparable from power; a character who at every moment of his life felt\ +a responsibility for all that was happening in Europe; and not a\ +fictitious but a live character who like every man had his personal\ +habits, passions, and impulses toward goodness, beauty, and truth--that\ +this character--though not lacking in virtue (the historians do not\ +accuse him of that)--had not the same conception of the welfare of\ +humanity fifty years ago as a present-day professor who from his youth\ +upwards has been occupied with learning: that is, with books and\ +lectures and with taking notes from them.\ +\ +But even if we assume that fifty years ago Alexander I was mistaken in\ +his view of what was good for the people, we must inevitably assume that\ +the historian who judges Alexander will also after the lapse of some\ +time turn out to be mistaken in his view of what is good for humanity.\ +This assumption is all the more natural and inevitable because, watching\ +the movement of history, we see that every year and with each new\ +writer, opinion as to what is good for mankind changes; so that what\ +once seemed good, ten years later seems bad, and vice versa. And what is\ +more, we find at one and the same time quite contradictory views as to\ +what is bad and what is good in history: some people regard giving a\ +constitution to Poland and forming the Holy Alliance as praiseworthy in\ +Alexander, while others regard it as blameworthy.\ +\ +The activity of Alexander or of Napoleon cannot be called useful or\ +harmful, for it is impossible to say for what it was useful or harmful.\ +If that activity displeases somebody, this is only because it does not\ +agree with his limited understanding of what is good. Whether the\ +preservation of my father's house in Moscow, or the glory of the Russian\ +arms, or the prosperity of the Petersburg and other universities, or the\ +freedom of Poland or the greatness of Russia, or the balance of power in\ +Europe, or a certain kind of European culture called "progress" appear\ +to me to be good or bad, I must admit that besides these things the\ +action of every historic character has other more general purposes\ +inaccessible to me.\ +\ +But let us assume that what is called science can harmonize all\ +contradictions and possesses an unchanging standard of good and bad by\ +which to try historic characters and events; let us say that Alexander\ +could have done everything differently; let us say that with guidance\ +from those who blame him and who profess to know the ultimate aim of the\ +movement of humanity, he might have arranged matters according to the\ +program his present accusers would have given him--of nationality,\ +freedom, equality, and progress (these, I think, cover the ground). Let\ +us assume that this program was possible and had then been formulated,\ +and that Alexander had acted on it. What would then have become of the\ +activity of all those who opposed the tendency that then prevailed in\ +the government--an activity that in the opinion of the historians was\ +good and beneficent? Their activity would not have existed: there would\ +have been no life, there would have been nothing.\ +\ +If we admit that human life can be ruled by reason, the possibility of\ +life is destroyed.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER II\ +\ +If we assume as the historians do that great men lead humanity to the\ +attainment of certain ends--the greatness of Russia or of France, the\ +balance of power in Europe, the diffusion of the ideas of the\ +Revolution, general progress, or anything else--then it is impossible to\ +explain the facts of history without introducing the conceptions of\ +chance and genius.\ +\ +If the aim of the European wars at the beginning of the nineteenth\ +century had been the aggrandizement of Russia, that aim might have been\ +accomplished without all the preceding wars and without the invasion. If\ +the aim was the aggrandizement of France, that might have been attained\ +without the Revolution and without the Empire. If the aim was the\ +dissemination of ideas, the printing press could have accomplished that\ +much better than warfare. If the aim was the progress of civilization,\ +it is easy to see that there are other ways of diffusing civilization\ +more expedient than by the destruction of wealth and of human lives.\ +\ +Why did it happen in this and not in some other way?\ +\ +Because it happened so! "Chance created the situation; genius utilized\ +it," says history.\ +\ +But what is chance? What is genius?\ +\ +The words chance and genius do not denote any really existing thing and\ +therefore cannot be defined. Those words only denote a certain stage of\ +understanding of phenomena. I do not know why a certain event occurs; I\ +think that I cannot know it; so I do not try to know it and I talk about\ +chance. I see a force producing effects beyond the scope of ordinary\ +human agencies; I do not understand why this occurs and I talk of\ +genius.\ +\ +To a herd of rams, the ram the herdsman drives each evening into a\ +special enclosure to feed and that becomes twice as fat as the others\ +must seem to be a genius. And it must appear an astonishing conjunction\ +of genius with a whole series of extraordinary chances that this ram,\ +who instead of getting into the general fold every evening goes into a\ +special enclosure where there are oats--that this very ram, swelling\ +with fat, is killed for meat.\ +\ +But the rams need only cease to suppose that all that happens to them\ +happens solely for the attainment of their sheepish aims; they need only\ +admit that what happens to them may also have purposes beyond their ken,\ +and they will at once perceive a unity and coherence in what happened to\ +the ram that was fattened. Even if they do not know for what purpose\ +they are fattened, they will at least know that all that happened to the\ +ram did not happen accidentally, and will no longer need the conceptions\ +of chance or genius.\ +\ +Only by renouncing our claim to discern a purpose immediately\ +intelligible to us, and admitting the ultimate purpose to be beyond our\ +ken, may we discern the sequence of experiences in the lives of historic\ +characters and perceive the cause of the effect they produce\ +(incommensurable with ordinary human capabilities), and then the words\ +chance and genius become superfluous.\ +\ +We need only confess that we do not know the purpose of the European\ +convulsions and that we know only the facts--that is, the murders, first\ +in France, then in Italy, in Africa, in Prussia, in Austria, in Spain,\ +and in Russia--and that the movements from the west to the east and from\ +the east to the west form the essence and purpose of these events, and\ +not only shall we have no need to see exceptional ability and genius in\ +Napoleon and Alexander, but we shall be unable to consider them to be\ +anything but like other men, and we shall not be obliged to have\ +recourse to chance for an explanation of those small events which made\ +these people what they were, but it will be clear that all those small\ +events were inevitable.\ +\ +By discarding a claim to knowledge of the ultimate purpose, we shall\ +clearly perceive that just as one cannot imagine a blossom or seed for\ +any single plant better suited to it than those it produces, so it is\ +impossible to imagine any two people more completely adapted down to the\ +smallest detail for the purpose they had to fulfill, than Napoleon and\ +Alexander with all their antecedents.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER III\ +\ +The fundamental and essential significance of the European events of the\ +beginning of the nineteenth century lies in the movement of the mass of\ +the European peoples from west to east and afterwards from east to west.\ +The commencement of that movement was the movement from west to east.\ +For the peoples of the west to be able to make their warlike movement to\ +Moscow it was necessary: (1) that they should form themselves into a\ +military group of a size able to endure a collision with the warlike\ +military group of the east, (2) that they should abandon all established\ +traditions and customs, and (3) that during their military movement they\ +should have at their head a man who could justify to himself and to them\ +the deceptions, robberies, and murders which would have to be committed\ +during that movement.\ +\ +And beginning with the French Revolution the old inadequately large\ +group was destroyed, as well as the old habits and traditions, and step\ +by step a group was formed of larger dimensions with new customs and\ +traditions, and a man was produced who would stand at the head of the\ +coming movement and bear the responsibility for all that had to be done.\ +\ +A man without convictions, without habits, without traditions, without a\ +name, and not even a Frenchman, emerges--by what seem the strangest\ +chances--from among all the seething French parties, and without joining\ +any one of them is borne forward to a prominent position.\ +\ +The ignorance of his colleagues, the weakness and insignificance of his\ +opponents, the frankness of his falsehoods, and the dazzling and self-\ +confident limitations of this man raise him to the head of the army. The\ +brilliant qualities of the soldiers of the army sent to Italy, his\ +opponents' reluctance to fight, and his own childish audacity and self-\ +confidence secure him military fame. Innumerable so-called chances\ +accompany him everywhere. The disfavor into which he falls with the\ +rulers of France turns to his advantage. His attempts to avoid his\ +predestined path are unsuccessful: he is not received into the Russian\ +service, and the appointment he seeks in Turkey comes to nothing. During\ +the war in Italy he is several times on the verge of destruction and\ +each time is saved in an unexpected manner. Owing to various diplomatic\ +considerations the Russian armies--just those which might have destroyed\ +his prestige--do not appear upon the scene till he is no longer there.\ +\ +On his return from Italy he finds the government in Paris in a process\ +of dissolution in which all those who are in it are inevitably wiped out\ +and destroyed. And by chance an escape from this dangerous position\ +presents itself in the form of an aimless and senseless expedition to\ +Africa. Again so-called chance accompanies him. Impregnable Malta\ +surrenders without a shot; his most reckless schemes are crowned with\ +success. The enemy's fleet, which subsequently did not let a single boat\ +pass, allows his entire army to elude it. In Africa a whole series of\ +outrages are committed against the almost unarmed inhabitants. And the\ +men who commit these crimes, especially their leader, assure themselves\ +that this is admirable, this is glory--it resembles Caesar and Alexander\ +the Great and is therefore good.\ +\ +This ideal of glory and grandeur--which consists not merely in\ +considering nothing wrong that one does but in priding oneself on every\ +crime one commits, ascribing to it an incomprehensible supernatural\ +significance--that ideal, destined to guide this man and his associates,\ +had scope for its development in Africa. Whatever he does succeeds. The\ +plague does not touch him. The cruelty of murdering prisoners is not\ +imputed to him as a fault. His childishly rash, uncalled-for, and\ +ignoble departure from Africa, leaving his comrades in distress, is set\ +down to his credit, and again the enemy's fleet twice lets him slip\ +past. When, intoxicated by the crimes he has committed so successfully,\ +he reaches Paris, the dissolution of the republican government, which a\ +year earlier might have ruined him, has reached its extreme limit, and\ +his presence there now as a newcomer free from party entanglements can\ +only serve to exalt him--and though he himself has no plan, he is quite\ +ready for his new role.\ +\ +He had no plan, he was afraid of everything, but the parties snatched at\ +him and demanded his participation.\ +\ +He alone--with his ideal of glory and grandeur developed in Italy and\ +Egypt, his insane self-adulation, his boldness in crime and frankness in\ +lying--he alone could justify what had to be done.\ +\ +He is needed for the place that awaits him, and so almost apart from his\ +will and despite his indecision, his lack of a plan, and all his\ +mistakes, he is drawn into a conspiracy that aims at seizing power and\ +the conspiracy is crowned with success.\ +\ +He is pushed into a meeting of the legislature. In alarm he wishes to\ +flee, considering himself lost. He pretends to fall into a swoon and\ +says senseless things that should have ruined him. But the once proud\ +and shrewd rulers of France, feeling that their part is played out, are\ +even more bewildered than he, and do not say the words they should have\ +said to destroy him and retain their power.\ +\ +Chance, millions of chances, give him power, and all men as if by\ +agreement co-operate to confirm that power. Chance forms the characters\ +of the rulers of France, who submit to him; chance forms the character\ +of Paul I of Russia who recognizes his government; chance contrives a\ +plot against him which not only fails to harm him but confirms his\ +power. Chance puts the Duc d'Enghien in his hands and unexpectedly\ +causes him to kill him--thereby convincing the mob more forcibly than in\ +any other way that he had the right, since he had the might. Chance\ +contrives that though he directs all his efforts to prepare an\ +expedition against England (which would inevitably have ruined him) he\ +never carries out that intention, but unexpectedly falls upon Mack and\ +the Austrians, who surrender without a battle. Chance and genius give\ +him the victory at Austerlitz; and by chance all men, not only the\ +French but all Europe--except England which does not take part in the\ +events about to happen--despite their former horror and detestation of\ +his crimes, now recognize his authority, the title he has given himself,\ +and his ideal of grandeur and glory, which seems excellent and\ +reasonable to them all.\ +\ +As if measuring themselves and preparing for the coming movement, the\ +western forces push toward the east several times in 1805, 1806, 1807,\ +and 1809, gaining strength and growing. In 1811 the group of people that\ +had formed in France unites into one group with the peoples of Central\ +Europe. The strength of the justification of the man who stands at the\ +head of the movement grows with the increased size of the group. During\ +the ten-year preparatory period this man had formed relations with all\ +the crowned heads of Europe. The discredited rulers of the world can\ +oppose no reasonable ideal to the insensate Napoleonic ideal of glory\ +and grandeur. One after another they hasten to display their\ +insignificance before him. The King of Prussia sends his wife to seek\ +the great man's mercy; the Emperor of Austria considers it a favor that\ +this man receives a daughter of the Caesars into his bed; the Pope, the\ +guardian of all that the nations hold sacred, utilizes religion for the\ +aggrandizement of the great man. It is not Napoleon who prepares himself\ +for the accomplishment of his role, so much as all those round him who\ +prepare him to take on himself the whole responsibility for what is\ +happening and has to happen. There is no step, no crime or petty fraud\ +he commits, which in the mouths of those around him is not at once\ +represented as a great deed. The most suitable fete the Germans can\ +devise for him is a celebration of Jena and Auerstadt. Not only is he\ +great, but so are his ancestors, his brothers, his stepsons, and his\ +brothers-in-law. Everything is done to deprive him of the remains of his\ +reason and to prepare him for his terrible part. And when he is ready so\ +too are the forces.\ +\ +The invasion pushes eastward and reaches its final goal--Moscow. That\ +city is taken; the Russian army suffers heavier losses than the opposing\ +armies had suffered in the former war from Austerlitz to Wagram. But\ +suddenly instead of those chances and that genius which hitherto had so\ +consistently led him by an uninterrupted series of successes to the\ +predestined goal, an innumerable sequence of inverse chances occur--from\ +the cold in his head at Borodino to the sparks which set Moscow on fire,\ +and the frosts--and instead of genius, stupidity and immeasurable\ +baseness become evident.\ +\ +The invaders flee, turn back, flee again, and all the chances are now\ +not for Napoleon but always against him.\ +\ +A countermovement is then accomplished from east to west with a\ +remarkable resemblance to the preceding movement from west to east.\ +Attempted drives from east to west--similar to the contrary movements of\ +1805, 1807, and 1809--precede the great westward movement; there is the\ +same coalescence into a group of enormous dimensions; the same adhesion\ +of the people of Central Europe to the movement; the same hesitation\ +midway, and the same increasing rapidity as the goal is approached.\ +\ +Paris, the ultimate goal, is reached. The Napoleonic government and army\ +are destroyed. Napoleon himself is no longer of any account; all his\ +actions are evidently pitiful and mean, but again an inexplicable chance\ +occurs. The allies detest Napoleon whom they regard as the cause of\ +their sufferings. Deprived of power and authority, his crimes and his\ +craft exposed, he should have appeared to them what he appeared ten\ +years previously and one year later--an outlawed brigand. But by some\ +strange chance no one perceives this. His part is not yet ended. The man\ +who ten years before and a year later was considered an outlawed brigand\ +is sent to an island two days' sail from France, which for some reason\ +is presented to him as his dominion, and guards are given to him and\ +millions of money are paid him.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER IV\ +\ +The flood of nations begins to subside into its normal channels. The\ +waves of the great movement abate, and on the calm surface eddies are\ +formed in which float the diplomatists, who imagine that they have\ +caused the floods to abate.\ +\ +But the smooth sea again suddenly becomes disturbed. The diplomatists\ +think that their disagreements are the cause of this fresh pressure of\ +natural forces; they anticipate war between their sovereigns; the\ +position seems to them insoluble. But the wave they feel to be rising\ +does not come from the quarter they expect. It rises again from the same\ +point as before--Paris. The last backwash of the movement from the west\ +occurs: a backwash which serves to solve the apparently insuperable\ +diplomatic difficulties and ends the military movement of that period of\ +history.\ +\ +The man who had devastated France returns to France alone, without any\ +conspiracy and without soldiers. Any guard might arrest him, but by\ +strange chance no one does so and all rapturously greet the man they\ +cursed the day before and will curse again a month later.\ +\ +This man is still needed to justify the final collective act.\ +\ +That act is performed.\ +\ +The last role is played. The actor is bidden to disrobe and wash off his\ +powder and paint: he will not be wanted any more.\ +\ +And some years pass during which he plays a pitiful comedy to himself in\ +solitude on his island, justifying his actions by intrigues and lies\ +when the justification is no longer needed, and displaying to the whole\ +world what it was that people had mistaken for strength as long as an\ +unseen hand directed his actions.\ +\ +The manager having brought the drama to a close and stripped the actor\ +shows him to us.\ +\ +"See what you believed in! This is he! Do you now see that it was not he\ +but I who moved you?"\ +\ +But dazed by the force of the movement, it was long before people\ +understood this.\ +\ +Still greater coherence and inevitability is seen in the life of\ +Alexander I, the man who stood at the head of the countermovement from\ +east to west.\ +\ +What was needed for him who, overshadowing others, stood at the head of\ +that movement from east to west?\ +\ +What was needed was a sense of justice and a sympathy with European\ +affairs, but a remote sympathy not dulled by petty interests; a moral\ +superiority over those sovereigns of the day who co-operated with him; a\ +mild and attractive personality; and a personal grievance against\ +Napoleon. And all this was found in Alexander I; all this had been\ +prepared by innumerable so-called chances in his life: his education,\ +his early liberalism, the advisers who surrounded him, and by\ +Austerlitz, and Tilsit, and Erfurt.\ +\ +During the national war he was inactive because he was not needed. But\ +as soon as the necessity for a general European war presented itself he\ +appeared in his place at the given moment and, uniting the nations of\ +Europe, led them to the goal.\ +\ +The goal is reached. After the final war of 1815 Alexander possesses all\ +possible power. How does he use it?\ +\ +Alexander I--the pacifier of Europe, the man who from his early years\ +had striven only for his people's welfare, the originator of the liberal\ +innovations in his fatherland--now that he seemed to possess the utmost\ +power and therefore to have the possibility of bringing about the\ +welfare of his peoples--at the time when Napoleon in exile was drawing\ +up childish and mendacious plans of how he would have made mankind happy\ +had he retained power--Alexander I, having fulfilled his mission and\ +feeling the hand of God upon him, suddenly recognizes the insignificance\ +of that supposed power, turns away from it, and gives it into the hands\ +of contemptible men whom he despises, saying only:\ +\ +"Not unto us, not unto us, but unto Thy Name!... I too am a man like the\ +rest of you. Let me live like a man and think of my soul and of God."\ +\ +As the sun and each atom of ether is a sphere complete in itself, and\ +yet at the same time only a part of a whole too immense for man to\ +comprehend, so each individual has within himself his own aims and yet\ +has them to serve a general purpose incomprehensible to man.\ +\ +A bee settling on a flower has stung a child. And the child is afraid of\ +bees and declares that bees exist to sting people. A poet admires the\ +bee sucking from the chalice of a flower and says it exists to suck the\ +fragrance of flowers. A beekeeper, seeing the bee collect pollen from\ +flowers and carry it to the hive, says that it exists to gather honey.\ +Another beekeeper who has studied the life of the hive more closely says\ +that the bee gathers pollen dust to feed the young bees and rear a\ +queen, and that it exists to perpetuate its race. A botanist notices\ +that the bee flying with the pollen of a male flower to a pistil\ +fertilizes the latter, and sees in this the purpose of the bee's\ +existence. Another, observing the migration of plants, notices that the\ +bee helps in this work, and may say that in this lies the purpose of the\ +bee. But the ultimate purpose of the bee is not exhausted by the first,\ +the second, or any of the processes the human mind can discern. The\ +higher the human intellect rises in the discovery of these purposes, the\ +more obvious it becomes, that the ultimate purpose is beyond our\ +comprehension.\ +\ +All that is accessible to man is the relation of the life of the bee to\ +other manifestations of life. And so it is with the purpose of historic\ +characters and nations.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER V\ +\ +Natasha's wedding to Bezukhov, which took place in 1813, was the last\ +happy event in the family of the old Rostovs. Count Ilya Rostov died\ +that same year and, as always happens, after the father's death the\ +family group broke up.\ +\ +The events of the previous year: the burning of Moscow and the flight\ +from it, the death of Prince Andrew, Natasha's despair, Petya's death,\ +and the old countess' grief fell blow after blow on the old count's\ +head. He seemed to be unable to understand the meaning of all these\ +events, and bowed his old head in a spiritual sense as if expecting and\ +inviting further blows which would finish him. He seemed now frightened\ +and distraught and now unnaturally animated and enterprising.\ +\ +The arrangements for Natasha's marriage occupied him for a while. He\ +ordered dinners and suppers and obviously tried to appear cheerful, but\ +his cheerfulness was not infectious as it used to be: on the contrary it\ +evoked the compassion of those who knew and liked him.\ +\ +When Pierre and his wife had left, he grew very quiet and began to\ +complain of depression. A few days later he fell ill and took to his\ +bed. He realized from the first that he would not get up again, despite\ +the doctor's encouragement. The countess passed a fortnight in an\ +armchair by his pillow without undressing. Every time she gave him his\ +medicine he sobbed and silently kissed her hand. On his last day,\ +sobbing, he asked her and his absent son to forgive him for having\ +dissipated their property--that being the chief fault of which he was\ +conscious. After receiving communion and unction he quietly died; and\ +next day a throng of acquaintances who came to pay their last respects\ +to the deceased filled the house rented by the Rostovs. All these\ +acquaintances, who had so often dined and danced at his house and had so\ +often laughed at him, now said, with a common feeling of self-reproach\ +and emotion, as if justifying themselves: "Well, whatever he may have\ +been he was a most worthy man. You don't meet such men nowadays.... And\ +which of us has not weaknesses of his own?"\ +\ +It was just when the count's affairs had become so involved that it was\ +impossible to say what would happen if he lived another year that he\ +unexpectedly died.\ +\ +Nicholas was with the Russian army in Paris when the news of his\ +father's death reached him. He at once resigned his commission, and\ +without waiting for it to be accepted took leave of absence and went to\ +Moscow. The state of the count's affairs became quite obvious a month\ +after his death, surprising everyone by the immense total of small debts\ +the existence of which no one had suspected. The debts amounted to\ +double the value of the property.\ +\ +Friends and relations advised Nicholas to decline the inheritance. But\ +he regarded such a refusal as a slur on his father's memory, which he\ +held sacred, and therefore would not hear of refusing and accepted the\ +inheritance together with the obligation to pay the debts.\ +\ +The creditors who had so long been silent, restrained by a vague but\ +powerful influence exerted on them while he lived by the count's\ +careless good nature, all proceeded to enforce their claims at once. As\ +always happens in such cases rivalry sprang up as to which should get\ +paid first, and those who like Mitenka held promissory notes given them\ +as presents now became the most exacting of the creditors. Nicholas was\ +allowed no respite and no peace, and those who had seemed to pity the\ +old man--the cause of their losses (if they were losses)--now\ +remorselessly pursued the young heir who had voluntarily undertaken the\ +debts and was obviously not guilty of contracting them.\ +\ +Not one of the plans Nicholas tried succeeded; the estate was sold by\ +auction for half its value, and half the debts still remained unpaid.\ +Nicholas accepted thirty thousand rubles offered him by his brother-in-\ +law Bezukhov to pay off debts he regarded as genuinely due for value\ +received. And to avoid being imprisoned for the remainder, as the\ +creditors threatened, he re-entered the government service.\ +\ +He could not rejoin the army where he would have been made colonel at\ +the next vacancy, for his mother now clung to him as her one hold on\ +life; and so despite his reluctance to remain in Moscow among people who\ +had known him before, and despite his abhorrence of the civil service,\ +he accepted a post in Moscow in that service, doffed the uniform of\ +which he was so fond, and moved with his mother and Sonya to a small\ +house on the Sivtsev Vrazhek.\ +\ +Natasha and Pierre were living in Petersburg at the time and had no\ +clear idea of Nicholas' circumstances. Having borrowed money from his\ +brother-in-law, Nicholas tried to hide his wretched condition from him.\ +His position was the more difficult because with his salary of twelve\ +hundred rubles he had not only to keep himself, his mother, and Sonya,\ +but had to shield his mother from knowledge of their poverty. The\ +countess could not conceive of life without the luxurious conditions she\ +had been used to from childhood and, unable to realize how hard it was\ +for her son, kept demanding now a carriage (which they did not keep) to\ +send for a friend, now some expensive article of food for herself, or\ +wine for her son, or money to buy a present as a surprise for Natasha or\ +Sonya, or for Nicholas himself.\ +\ +Sonya kept house, attended on her aunt, read to her, put up with her\ +whims and secret ill-will, and helped Nicholas to conceal their poverty\ +from the old countess. Nicholas felt himself irredeemably indebted to\ +Sonya for all she was doing for his mother and greatly admired her\ +patience and devotion, but tried to keep aloof from her.\ +\ +He seemed in his heart to reproach her for being too perfect, and\ +because there was nothing to reproach her with. She had all that people\ +are valued for, but little that could have made him love her. He felt\ +that the more he valued her the less he loved her. He had taken her at\ +her word when she wrote giving him his freedom and now behaved as if all\ +that had passed between them had been long forgotten and could never in\ +any case be renewed.\ +\ +Nicholas' position became worse and worse. The idea of putting something\ +aside out of his salary proved a dream. Not only did he not save\ +anything, but to comply with his mother's demands he even incurred some\ +small debts. He could see no way out of this situation. The idea of\ +marrying some rich woman, which was suggested to him by his female\ +relations, was repugnant to him. The other way out--his mother's death--\ +never entered his head. He wished for nothing and hoped for nothing, and\ +deep in his heart experienced a gloomy and stern satisfaction in an\ +uncomplaining endurance of his position. He tried to avoid his old\ +acquaintances with their commiseration and offensive offers of\ +assistance; he avoided all distraction and recreation, and even at home\ +did nothing but play cards with his mother, pace silently up and down\ +the room, and smoke one pipe after another. He seemed carefully to\ +cherish within himself the gloomy mood which alone enabled him to endure\ +his position.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER VI\ +\ +At the beginning of winter Princess Mary came to Moscow. From reports\ +current in town she learned how the Rostovs were situated, and how "the\ +son has sacrificed himself for his mother," as people were saying.\ +\ +"I never expected anything else of him," said Princess Mary to herself,\ +feeling a joyous sense of her love for him. Remembering her friendly\ +relations with all the Rostovs which had made her almost a member of the\ +family, she thought it her duty to go to see them. But remembering her\ +relations with Nicholas in Voronezh she was shy about doing so. Making a\ +great effort she did however go to call on them a few weeks after her\ +arrival in Moscow.\ +\ +Nicholas was the first to meet her, as the countess' room could only be\ +reached through his. But instead of being greeted with pleasure as she\ +had expected, at his first glance at her his face assumed a cold, stiff,\ +proud expression she had not seen on it before. He inquired about her\ +health, led the way to his mother, and having sat there for five minutes\ +left the room.\ +\ +When the princess came out of the countess' room Nicholas met her again,\ +and with marked solemnity and stiffness accompanied her to the anteroom.\ +To her remarks about his mother's health he made no reply. "What's that\ +to you? Leave me in peace," his looks seemed to say.\ +\ +"Why does she come prowling here? What does she want? I can't bear these\ +ladies and all these civilities!" said he aloud in Sonya's presence,\ +evidently unable to repress his vexation, after the princess' carriage\ +had disappeared.\ +\ +"Oh, Nicholas, how can you talk like that?" cried Sonya, hardly able to\ +conceal her delight. "She is so kind and Mamma is so fond of her!"\ +\ +Nicholas did not reply and tried to avoid speaking of the princess any\ +more. But after her visit the old countess spoke of her several times a\ +day.\ +\ +She sang her praises, insisted that her son must call on her, expressed\ +a wish to see her often, but yet always became ill-humored when she\ +began to talk about her.\ +\ +Nicholas tried to keep silence when his mother spoke of the princess,\ +but his silence irritated her.\ +\ +"She is a very admirable and excellent young woman," said she, "and you\ +must go and call on her. You would at least be seeing somebody, and I\ +think it must be dull for you only seeing us."\ +\ +"But I don't in the least want to, Mamma."\ +\ +"You used to want to, and now you don't. Really I don't understand you,\ +my dear. One day you are dull, and the next you refuse to see anyone."\ +\ +"But I never said I was dull."\ +\ +"Why, you said yourself you don't want even to see her. She is a very\ +admirable young woman and you always liked her, but now suddenly you\ +have got some notion or other in your head. You hide everything from\ +me."\ +\ +"Not at all, Mamma."\ +\ +"If I were asking you to do something disagreeable now--but I only ask\ +you to return a call. One would think mere politeness required it....\ +Well, I have asked you, and now I won't interfere any more since you\ +have secrets from your mother."\ +\ +"Well, then, I'll go if you wish it."\ +\ +"It doesn't matter to me. I only wish it for your sake."\ +\ +Nicholas sighed, bit his mustache, and laid out the cards for a\ +patience, trying to divert his mother's attention to another topic.\ +\ +The same conversation was repeated next day and the day after, and the\ +day after that.\ +\ +After her visit to the Rostovs and her unexpectedly chilly reception by\ +Nicholas, Princess Mary confessed to herself that she had been right in\ +not wishing to be the first to call.\ +\ +"I expected nothing else," she told herself, calling her pride to her\ +aid. "I have nothing to do with him and I only wanted to see the old\ +lady, who was always kind to me and to whom I am under many\ +obligations."\ +\ +But she could not pacify herself with these reflections; a feeling akin\ +to remorse troubled her when she thought of her visit. Though she had\ +firmly resolved not to call on the Rostovs again and to forget the whole\ +matter, she felt herself all the time in an awkward position. And when\ +she asked herself what distressed her, she had to admit that it was her\ +relation to Rostov. His cold, polite manner did not express his feeling\ +for her (she knew that) but it concealed something, and until she could\ +discover what that something was, she felt that she could not be at\ +ease.\ +\ +One day in midwinter when sitting in the schoolroom attending to her\ +nephew's lessons, she was informed that Rostov had called. With a firm\ +resolution not to betray herself and not show her agitation, she sent\ +for Mademoiselle Bourienne and went with her to the drawing room.\ +\ +Her first glance at Nicholas' face told her that he had only come to\ +fulfill the demands of politeness, and she firmly resolved to maintain\ +the tone in which he addressed her.\ +\ +They spoke of the countess' health, of their mutual friends, of the\ +latest war news, and when the ten minutes required by propriety had\ +elapsed after which a visitor may rise, Nicholas got up to say good-by.\ +\ +With Mademoiselle Bourienne's help the princess had maintained the\ +conversation very well, but at the very last moment, just when he rose,\ +she was so tired of talking of what did not interest her, and her mind\ +was so full of the question why she alone was granted so little\ +happiness in life, that in a fit of absent-mindedness she sat still, her\ +luminous eyes gazing fixedly before her, not noticing that he had risen.\ +\ +Nicholas glanced at her and, wishing to appear not to notice her\ +abstraction, made some remark to Mademoiselle Bourienne and then again\ +looked at the princess. She still sat motionless with a look of\ +suffering on her gentle face. He suddenly felt sorry for her and was\ +vaguely conscious that he might be the cause of the sadness her face\ +expressed. He wished to help her and say something pleasant, but could\ +think of nothing to say.\ +\ +"Good-bye, Princess!" said he.\ +\ +She started, flushed, and sighed deeply.\ +\ +"Oh, I beg your pardon," she said as if waking up. "Are you going\ +already, Count? Well then, good-by! Oh, but the cushion for the\ +countess!"\ +\ +"Wait a moment, I'll fetch it," said Mademoiselle Bourienne, and she\ +left the room.\ +\ +They both sat silent, with an occasional glance at one another.\ +\ +"Yes, Princess," said Nicholas at last with a sad smile, "it doesn't\ +seem long ago since we first met at Bogucharovo, but how much water has\ +flowed since then! In what distress we all seemed to be then, yet I\ +would give much to bring back that time... but there's no bringing it\ +back."\ +\ +Princess Mary gazed intently into his eyes with her own luminous ones as\ +he said this. She seemed to be trying to fathom the hidden meaning of\ +his words which would explain his feeling for her.\ +\ +"Yes, yes," said she, "but you have no reason to regret the past, Count.\ +As I understand your present life, I think you will always recall it\ +with satisfaction, because the self-sacrifice that fills it now..."\ +\ +"I cannot accept your praise," he interrupted her hurriedly. "On the\ +contrary I continually reproach myself.... But this is not at all an\ +interesting or cheerful subject."\ +\ +His face again resumed its former stiff and cold expression. But the\ +princess had caught a glimpse of the man she had known and loved, and it\ +was to him that she now spoke.\ +\ +"I thought you would allow me to tell you this," she said. "I had come\ +so near to you... and to all your family that I thought you would not\ +consider my sympathy misplaced, but I was mistaken," and suddenly her\ +voice trembled. "I don't know why," she continued, recovering herself,\ +"but you used to be different, and..."\ +\ +"There are a thousand reasons why," laying special emphasis on the why.\ +"Thank you, Princess," he added softly. "Sometimes it is hard."\ +\ +"So that's why! That's why!" a voice whispered in Princess Mary's soul.\ +"No, it was not only that gay, kind, and frank look, not only that\ +handsome exterior, that I loved in him. I divined his noble, resolute,\ +self-sacrificing spirit too," she said to herself. "Yes, he is poor now\ +and I am rich.... Yes, that's the only reason.... Yes, were it not for\ +that..." And remembering his former tenderness, and looking now at his\ +kind, sorrowful face, she suddenly understood the cause of his coldness.\ +\ +"But why, Count, why?" she almost cried, unconsciously moving closer to\ +him. "Why? Tell me. You must tell me!"\ +\ +He was silent.\ +\ +"I don't understand your why, Count," she continued, "but it's hard for\ +me... I confess it. For some reason you wish to deprive me of our former\ +friendship. And that hurts me." There were tears in her eyes and in her\ +voice. "I have had so little happiness in life that every loss is hard\ +for me to bear.... Excuse me, good-by!" and suddenly she began to cry\ +and was hurrying from the room.\ +\ +"Princess, for God's sake!" he exclaimed, trying to stop her.\ +"Princess!"\ +\ +She turned round. For a few seconds they gazed silently into one\ +another's eyes--and what had seemed impossible and remote suddenly\ +became possible, inevitable, and very near.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER VII\ +\ +In the winter of 1813 Nicholas married Princess Mary and moved to Bald\ +Hills with his wife, his mother, and Sonya.\ +\ +Within four years he had paid off all his remaining debts without\ +selling any of his wife's property, and having received a small\ +inheritance on the death of a cousin he paid his debt to Pierre as well.\ +\ +In another three years, by 1820, he had so managed his affairs that he\ +was able to buy a small estate adjoining Bald Hills and was negotiating\ +to buy back Otradnoe--that being his pet dream.\ +\ +Having started farming from necessity, he soon grew so devoted to it\ +that it became his favorite and almost his sole occupation. Nicholas was\ +a plain farmer: he did not like innovations, especially the English ones\ +then coming into vogue. He laughed at theoretical treatises on estate\ +management, disliked factories, the raising of expensive products, and\ +the buying of expensive seed corn, and did not make a hobby of any\ +particular part of the work on his estate. He always had before his\ +mind's eye the estate as a whole and not any particular part of it. The\ +chief thing in his eyes was not the nitrogen in the soil, nor the oxygen\ +in the air, nor manures, nor special plows, but that most important\ +agent by which nitrogen, oxygen, manure, and plow were made effective--\ +the peasant laborer. When Nicholas first began farming and began to\ +understand its different branches, it was the serf who especially\ +attracted his attention. The peasant seemed to him not merely a tool,\ +but also a judge of farming and an end in himself. At first he watched\ +the serfs, trying to understand their aims and what they considered good\ +and bad, and only pretended to direct them and give orders while in\ +reality learning from them their methods, their manner of speech, and\ +their judgment of what was good and bad. Only when he had understood the\ +peasants' tastes and aspirations, had learned to talk their language, to\ +grasp the hidden meaning of their words, and felt akin to them did he\ +begin boldly to manage his serfs, that is, to perform toward them the\ +duties demanded of him. And Nicholas' management produced very brilliant\ +results.\ +\ +Guided by some gift of insight, on taking up the management of the\ +estates he at once unerringly appointed as bailiff, village elder, and\ +delegate, the very men the serfs would themselves have chosen had they\ +had the right to choose, and these posts never changed hands. Before\ +analyzing the properties of manure, before entering into the debit and\ +credit (as he ironically called it), he found out how many cattle the\ +peasants had and increased the number by all possible means. He kept the\ +peasant families together in the largest groups possible, not allowing\ +the family groups to divide into separate households. He was hard alike\ +on the lazy, the depraved, and the weak, and tried to get them expelled\ +from the commune.\ +\ +He was as careful of the sowing and reaping of the peasants' hay and\ +corn as of his own, and few landowners had their crops sown and\ +harvested so early and so well, or got so good a return, as did\ +Nicholas.\ +\ +He disliked having anything to do with the domestic serfs--the "drones"\ +as he called them--and everyone said he spoiled them by his laxity. When\ +a decision had to be taken regarding a domestic serf, especially if one\ +had to be punished, he always felt undecided and consulted everybody in\ +the house; but when it was possible to have a domestic serf conscripted\ +instead of a land worker he did so without the least hesitation. He\ +never felt any hesitation in dealing with the peasants. He knew that his\ +every decision would be approved by them all with very few exceptions.\ +\ +He did not allow himself either to be hard on or punish a man, or to\ +make things easy for or reward anyone, merely because he felt inclined\ +to do so. He could not have said by what standard he judged what he\ +should or should not do, but the standard was quite firm and definite in\ +his own mind.\ +\ +Often, speaking with vexation of some failure or irregularity, he would\ +say: "What can one do with our Russian peasants?" and imagined that he\ +could not bear them.\ +\ +Yet he loved "our Russian peasants" and their way of life with his whole\ +soul, and for that very reason had understood and assimilated the one\ +way and manner of farming which produced good results.\ +\ +Countess Mary was jealous of this passion of her husband's and regretted\ +that she could not share it; but she could not understand the joys and\ +vexations he derived from that world, to her so remote and alien. She\ +could not understand why he was so particularly animated and happy when,\ +after getting up at daybreak and spending the whole morning in the\ +fields or on the threshing floor, he returned from the sowing or mowing\ +or reaping to have tea with her. She did not understand why he spoke\ +with such admiration and delight of the farming of the thrifty and well-\ +to-do peasant Matthew Ermishin, who with his family had carted corn all\ +night; or of the fact that his (Nicholas') sheaves were already stacked\ +before anyone else had his harvest in. She did not understand why he\ +stepped out from the window to the veranda and smiled under his mustache\ +and winked so joyfully, when warm steady rain began to fall on the dry\ +and thirsty shoots of the young oats, or why when the wind carried away\ +a threatening cloud during the hay harvest he would return from the\ +barn, flushed, sunburned, and perspiring, with a smell of wormwood and\ +gentian in his hair and, gleefully rubbing his hands, would say: "Well,\ +one more day and my grain and the peasants' will all be under cover."\ +\ +Still less did she understand why he, kindhearted and always ready to\ +anticipate her wishes, should become almost desperate when she brought\ +him a petition from some peasant men or women who had appealed to her to\ +be excused some work; why he, that kind Nicholas, should obstinately\ +refuse her, angrily asking her not to interfere in what was not her\ +business. She felt he had a world apart, which he loved passionately and\ +which had laws she had not fathomed.\ +\ +Sometimes when, trying to understand him, she spoke of the good work he\ +was doing for his serfs, he would be vexed and reply: "Not in the least;\ +it never entered my head and I wouldn't do that for their good! That's\ +all poetry and old wives' talk--all that doing good to one's neighbor!\ +What I want is that our children should not have to go begging. I must\ +put our affairs in order while I am alive, that's all. And to do that,\ +order and strictness are essential.... That's all about it!" said he,\ +clenching his vigorous fist. "And fairness, of course," he added, "for\ +if the peasant is naked and hungry and has only one miserable horse, he\ +can do no good either for himself or for me."\ +\ +And all Nicholas did was fruitful--probably just because he refused to\ +allow himself to think that he was doing good to others for virtue's\ +sake. His means increased rapidly; serfs from neighboring estates came\ +to beg him to buy them, and long after his death the memory of his\ +administration was devoutly preserved among the serfs. "He was a\ +master... the peasants' affairs first and then his own. Of course he was\ +not to be trifled with either--in a word, he was a real master!"\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER VIII\ +\ +One matter connected with his management sometimes worried Nicholas, and\ +that was his quick temper together with his old hussar habit of making\ +free use of his fists. At first he saw nothing reprehensible in this,\ +but in the second year of his marriage his view of that form of\ +punishment suddenly changed.\ +\ +Once in summer he had sent for the village elder from Bogucharovo, a man\ +who had succeeded to the post when Dron died and who was accused of\ +dishonesty and various irregularities. Nicholas went out into the porch\ +to question him, and immediately after the elder had given a few replies\ +the sound of cries and blows were heard. On returning to lunch Nicholas\ +went up to his wife, who sat with her head bent low over her embroidery\ +frame, and as usual began to tell her what he had been doing that\ +morning. Among other things he spoke of the Bogucharovo elder. Countess\ +Mary turned red and then pale, but continued to sit with head bowed and\ +lips compressed and gave her husband no reply.\ +\ +"Such an insolent scoundrel!" he cried, growing hot again at the mere\ +recollection of him. "If he had told me he was drunk and did not see...\ +But what is the matter with you, Mary?" he suddenly asked.\ +\ +Countess Mary raised her head and tried to speak, but hastily looked\ +down again and her lips puckered.\ +\ +"Why, whatever is the matter, my dearest?"\ +\ +The looks of the plain Countess Mary always improved when she was in\ +tears. She never cried from pain or vexation, but always from sorrow or\ +pity, and when she wept her radiant eyes acquired an irresistible charm.\ +\ +The moment Nicholas took her hand she could no longer restrain herself\ +and began to cry.\ +\ +"Nicholas, I saw it... he was to blame, but why do you... Nicholas!" and\ +she covered her face with her hands.\ +\ +Nicholas said nothing. He flushed crimson, left her side, and paced up\ +and down the room. He understood what she was weeping about, but could\ +not in his heart at once agree with her that what he had regarded from\ +childhood as quite an everyday event was wrong. "Is it just\ +sentimentality, old wives' tales, or is she right?" he asked himself.\ +Before he had solved that point he glanced again at her face filled with\ +love and pain, and he suddenly realized that she was right and that he\ +had long been sinning against himself.\ +\ +"Mary," he said softly, going up to her, "it will never happen again; I\ +give you my word. Never," he repeated in a trembling voice like a boy\ +asking for forgiveness.\ +\ +The tears flowed faster still from the countess' eyes. She took his hand\ +and kissed it.\ +\ +"Nicholas, when did you break your cameo?" she asked to change the\ +subject, looking at his finger on which he wore a ring with a cameo of\ +Laocoon's head.\ +\ +"Today--it was the same affair. Oh, Mary, don't remind me of it!" and\ +again he flushed. "I give you my word of honor it shan't occur again,\ +and let this always be a reminder to me," and he pointed to the broken\ +ring.\ +\ +After that, when in discussions with his village elders or stewards the\ +blood rushed to his face and his fists began to clench, Nicholas would\ +turn the broken ring on his finger and would drop his eyes before the\ +man who was making him angry. But he did forget himself once or twice\ +within a twelvemonth, and then he would go and confess to his wife, and\ +would again promise that this should really be the very last time.\ +\ +"Mary, you must despise me!" he would say. "I deserve it."\ +\ +"You should go, go away at once, if you don't feel strong enough to\ +control yourself," she would reply sadly, trying to comfort her husband.\ +\ +Among the gentry of the province Nicholas was respected but not liked.\ +He did not concern himself with the interests of his own class, and\ +consequently some thought him proud and others thought him stupid. The\ +whole summer, from spring sowing to harvest, he was busy with the work\ +on his farm. In autumn he gave himself up to hunting with the same\ +business-like seriousness--leaving home for a month, or even two, with\ +his hunt. In winter he visited his other villages or spent his time\ +reading. The books he read were chiefly historical, and on these he\ +spent a certain sum every year. He was collecting, as he said, a serious\ +library, and he made it a rule to read through all the books he bought.\ +He would sit in his study with a grave air, reading--a task he first\ +imposed upon himself as a duty, but which afterwards became a habit\ +affording him a special kind of pleasure and a consciousness of being\ +occupied with serious matters. In winter, except for business\ +excursions, he spent most of his time at home making himself one with\ +his family and entering into all the details of his children's relations\ +with their mother. The harmony between him and his wife grew closer and\ +closer and he daily discovered fresh spiritual treasures in her.\ +\ +From the time of his marriage Sonya had lived in his house. Before that,\ +Nicholas had told his wife all that had passed between himself and\ +Sonya, blaming himself and commending her. He had asked Princess Mary to\ +be gentle and kind to his cousin. She thoroughly realized the wrong he\ +had done Sonya, felt herself to blame toward her, and imagined that her\ +wealth had influenced Nicholas' choice. She could not find fault with\ +Sonya in any way and tried to be fond of her, but often felt ill-will\ +toward her which she could not overcome.\ +\ +Once she had a talk with her friend Natasha about Sonya and about her\ +own injustice toward her.\ +\ +"You know," said Natasha, "you have read the Gospels a great deal--there\ +is a passage in them that just fits Sonya."\ +\ +"What?" asked Countess Mary, surprised.\ +\ +"'To him that hath shall be given, and from him that hath not shall be\ +taken away.' You remember? She is one that hath not; why, I don't know.\ +Perhaps she lacks egotism, I don't know, but from her is taken away, and\ +everything has been taken away. Sometimes I am dreadfully sorry for her.\ +Formerly I very much wanted Nicholas to marry her, but I always had a\ +sort of presentiment that it would not come off. She is a sterile\ +flower, you know--like some strawberry blossoms. Sometimes I am sorry\ +for her, and sometimes I think she doesn't feel it as you or I would."\ +\ +Though Countess Mary told Natasha that those words in the Gospel must be\ +understood differently, yet looking at Sonya she agreed with Natasha's\ +explanation. It really seemed that Sonya did not feel her position\ +trying, and had grown quite reconciled to her lot as a sterile flower.\ +She seemed to be fond not so much of individuals as of the family as a\ +whole. Like a cat, she had attached herself not to the people but to the\ +home. She waited on the old countess, petted and spoiled the children,\ +was always ready to render the small services for which she had a gift,\ +and all this was unconsciously accepted from her with insufficient\ +gratitude.\ +\ +The country seat at Bald Hills had been rebuilt, though not on the same\ +scale as under the old prince.\ +\ +The buildings, begun under straitened circumstances, were more than\ +simple. The immense house on the old stone foundations was of wood,\ +plastered only inside. It had bare deal floors and was furnished with\ +very simple hard sofas, armchairs, tables, and chairs made by their own\ +serf carpenters out of their own birchwood. The house was spacious and\ +had rooms for the house serfs and apartments for visitors. Whole\ +families of the Rostovs' and Bolkonskis' relations sometimes came to\ +Bald Hills with sixteen horses and dozens of servants and stayed for\ +months. Besides that, four times a year, on the name days and birthdays\ +of the hosts, as many as a hundred visitors would gather there for a day\ +or two. The rest of the year life pursued its unbroken routine with its\ +ordinary occupations, and its breakfasts, lunches, dinners, and suppers,\ +provided out of the produce of the estate.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER IX\ +\ +It was the eve of St. Nicholas, the fifth of December, 1820. Natasha had\ +been staying at her brother's with her husband and children since early\ +autumn. Pierre had gone to Petersburg on business of his own for three\ +weeks as he said, but had remained there nearly seven weeks and was\ +expected back every minute.\ +\ +Besides the Bezukhov family, Nicholas' old friend the retired General\ +Vasili Dmitrich Denisov was staying with the Rostovs this fifth of\ +December.\ +\ +On the sixth, which was his name day when the house would be full of\ +visitors, Nicholas knew he would have to exchange his Tartar tunic for a\ +tail coat, and put on narrow boots with pointed toes, and drive to the\ +new church he had built, and then receive visitors who would come to\ +congratulate him, offer them refreshments, and talk about the elections\ +of the nobility; but he considered himself entitled to spend the eve of\ +that day in his usual way. He examined the bailiff's accounts of the\ +village in Ryazan which belonged to his wife's nephew, wrote two\ +business letters, and walked over to the granaries, cattle yards and\ +stables before dinner. Having taken precautions against the general\ +drunkenness to be expected on the morrow because it was a great saint's\ +day, he returned to dinner, and without having time for a private talk\ +with his wife sat down at the long table laid for twenty persons, at\ +which the whole household had assembled. At that table were his mother,\ +his mother's old lady companion Belova, his wife, their three children\ +with their governess and tutor, his wife's nephew with his tutor, Sonya,\ +Denisov, Natasha, her three children, their governess, and old Michael\ +Ivanovich, the late prince's architect, who was living on in retirement\ +at Bald Hills.\ +\ +Countess Mary sat at the other end of the table. When her husband took\ +his place she concluded, from the rapid manner in which after taking up\ +his table napkin he pushed back the tumbler and wineglass standing\ +before him, that he was out of humor, as was sometimes the case when he\ +came in to dinner straight from the farm--especially before the soup.\ +Countess Mary well knew that mood of his, and when she herself was in a\ +good frame of mind quietly waited till he had had his soup and then\ +began to talk to him and make him admit that there was no cause for his\ +ill-humor. But today she quite forgot that and was hurt that he should\ +be angry with her without any reason, and she felt unhappy. She asked\ +him where he had been. He replied. She again inquired whether everything\ +was going well on the farm. Her unnatural tone made him wince\ +unpleasantly and he replied hastily.\ +\ +"Then I'm not mistaken," thought Countess Mary. "Why is he cross with\ +me?" She concluded from his tone that he was vexed with her and wished\ +to end the conversation. She knew her remarks sounded unnatural, but\ +could not refrain from asking some more questions.\ +\ +Thanks to Denisov the conversation at table soon became general and\ +lively, and she did not talk to her husband. When they left the table\ +and went as usual to thank the old countess, Countess Mary held out her\ +hand and kissed her husband, and asked him why he was angry with her.\ +\ +"You always have such strange fancies! I didn't even think of being\ +angry," he replied.\ +\ +But the word always seemed to her to imply: "Yes, I am angry but I won't\ +tell you why."\ +\ +Nicholas and his wife lived together so happily that even Sonya and the\ +old countess, who felt jealous and would have liked them to disagree,\ +could find nothing to reproach them with; but even they had their\ +moments of antagonism. Occasionally, and it was always just after they\ +had been happiest together, they suddenly had a feeling of estrangement\ +and hostility, which occurred most frequently during Countess Mary's\ +pregnancies, and this was such a time.\ +\ +"Well, messieurs et mesdames," said Nicholas loudly and with apparent\ +cheerfulness (it seemed to Countess Mary that he did it on purpose to\ +vex her), "I have been on my feet since six this morning. Tomorrow I\ +shall have to suffer, so today I'll go and rest."\ +\ +And without a word to his wife he went to the little sitting room and\ +lay down on the sofa.\ +\ +"That's always the way," thought Countess Mary. "He talks to everyone\ +except me. I see... I see that I am repulsive to him, especially when I\ +am in this condition." She looked down at her expanded figure and in the\ +glass at her pale, sallow, emaciated face in which her eyes now looked\ +larger than ever.\ +\ +And everything annoyed her--Denisov's shouting and laughter, Natasha's\ +talk, and especially a quick glance Sonya gave her.\ +\ +Sonya was always the first excuse Countess Mary found for feeling\ +irritated.\ +\ +Having sat awhile with her visitors without understanding anything of\ +what they were saying, she softly left the room and went to the nursery.\ +\ +The children were playing at "going to Moscow" in a carriage made of\ +chairs and invited her to go with them. She sat down and played with\ +them a little, but the thought of her husband and his unreasonable\ +crossness worried her. She got up and, walking on tiptoe with\ +difficulty, went to the small sitting room.\ +\ +"Perhaps he is not asleep; I'll have an explanation with him," she said\ +to herself. Little Andrew, her eldest boy, imitating his mother,\ +followed her on tiptoe. She did not notice him.\ +\ +"Mary, dear, I think he is asleep--he was so tired," said Sonya, meeting\ +her in the large sitting room (it seemed to Countess Mary that she\ +crossed her path everywhere). "Andrew may wake him."\ +\ +Countess Mary looked round, saw little Andrew following her, felt that\ +Sonya was right, and for that very reason flushed and with evident\ +difficulty refrained from saying something harsh. She made no reply, but\ +to avoid obeying Sonya beckoned to Andrew to follow her quietly and went\ +to the door. Sonya went away by another door. From the room in which\ +Nicholas was sleeping came the sound of his even breathing, every\ +slightest tone of which was familiar to his wife. As she listened to it\ +she saw before her his smooth handsome forehead, his mustache, and his\ +whole face, as she had so often seen it in the stillness of the night\ +when he slept. Nicholas suddenly moved and cleared his throat. And at\ +that moment little Andrew shouted from outside the door: "Papa! Mamma's\ +standing here!" Countess Mary turned pale with fright and made signs to\ +the boy. He grew silent, and quiet ensued for a moment, terrible to\ +Countess Mary. She knew how Nicholas disliked being waked. Then through\ +the door she heard Nicholas clearing his throat again and stirring, and\ +his voice said crossly:\ +\ +"I can't get a moment's peace.... Mary, is that you? Why did you bring\ +him here?"\ +\ +"I only came in to look and did not notice... forgive me..."\ +\ +Nicholas coughed and said no more. Countess Mary moved away from the\ +door and took the boy back to the nursery. Five minutes later little\ +black-eyed three-year-old Natasha, her father's pet, having learned from\ +her brother that Papa was asleep and Mamma was in the sitting room, ran\ +to her father unobserved by her mother. The dark-eyed little girl boldly\ +opened the creaking door, went up to the sofa with energetic steps of\ +her sturdy little legs, and having examined the position of her father,\ +who was asleep with his back to her, rose on tiptoe and kissed the hand\ +which lay under his head. Nicholas turned with a tender smile on his\ +face.\ +\ +"Natasha, Natasha!" came Countess Mary's frightened whisper from the\ +door. "Papa wants to sleep."\ +\ +"No, Mamma, he doesn't want to sleep," said little Natasha with\ +conviction. "He's laughing."\ +\ +Nicholas lowered his legs, rose, and took his daughter in his arms.\ +\ +"Come in, Mary," he said to his wife.\ +\ +She went in and sat down by her husband.\ +\ +"I did not notice him following me," she said timidly. "I just looked\ +in."\ +\ +Holding his little girl with one arm, Nicholas glanced at his wife and,\ +seeing her guilty expression, put his other arm around her and kissed\ +her hair.\ +\ +"May I kiss Mamma?" he asked Natasha.\ +\ +Natasha smiled bashfully.\ +\ +"Again!" she commanded, pointing with a peremptory gesture to the spot\ +where Nicholas had placed the kiss.\ +\ +"I don't know why you think I am cross," said Nicholas, replying to the\ +question he knew was in his wife's mind.\ +\ +"You have no idea how unhappy, how lonely, I feel when you are like\ +that. It always seems to me..."\ +\ +"Mary, don't talk nonsense. You ought to be ashamed of yourself!" he\ +said gaily.\ +\ +"It seems to be that you can't love me, that I am so plain... always...\ +and now... in this cond..."\ +\ +"Oh, how absurd you are! It is not beauty that endears, it's love that\ +makes us see beauty. It is only Malvinas and women of that kind who are\ +loved for their beauty. But do I love my wife? I don't love her, but...\ +I don't know how to put it. Without you, or when something comes between\ +us like this, I seem lost and can't do anything. Now do I love my\ +finger? I don't love it, but just try to cut it off!"\ +\ +"I'm not like that myself, but I understand. So you're not angry with\ +me?"\ +\ +"Awfully angry!" he said, smiling and getting up. And smoothing his hair\ +he began to pace the room.\ +\ +"Do you know, Mary, what I've been thinking?" he began, immediately\ +thinking aloud in his wife's presence now that they had made it up.\ +\ +He did not ask if she was ready to listen to him. He did not care. A\ +thought had occurred to him and so it belonged to her also. And he told\ +her of his intention to persuade Pierre to stay with them till spring.\ +\ +Countess Mary listened till he had finished, made some remark, and in\ +her turn began thinking aloud. Her thoughts were about the children.\ +\ +"You can see the woman in her already," she said in French, pointing to\ +little Natasha. "You reproach us women with being illogical. Here is our\ +logic. I say: 'Papa wants to sleep!' but she says, 'No, he's laughing.'\ +And she was right," said Countess Mary with a happy smile.\ +\ +"Yes, yes." And Nicholas, taking his little daughter in his strong hand,\ +lifted her high, placed her on his shoulder, held her by the legs, and\ +paced the room with her. There was an expression of carefree happiness\ +on the faces of both father and daughter.\ +\ +"But you know you may be unfair. You are too fond of this one," his wife\ +whispered in French.\ +\ +"Yes, but what am I to do?... I try not to show..."\ +\ +At that moment they heard the sound of the door pulley and footsteps in\ +the hall and anteroom, as if someone had arrived.\ +\ +"Somebody has come."\ +\ +"I am sure it is Pierre. I will go and see," said Countess Mary and left\ +the room.\ +\ +In her absence Nicholas allowed himself to give his little daughter a\ +gallop round the room. Out of breath, he took the laughing child quickly\ +from his shoulder and pressed her to his heart. His capers reminded him\ +of dancing, and looking at the child's round happy little face he\ +thought of what she would be like when he was an old man, taking her\ +into society and dancing the mazurka with her as his old father had\ +danced Daniel Cooper with his daughter.\ +\ +"It is he, it is he, Nicholas!" said Countess Mary, re-entering the room\ +a few minutes later. "Now our Natasha has come to life. You should have\ +seen her ecstasy, and how he caught it for having stayed away so long.\ +Well, come along now, quick, quick! It's time you two were parted," she\ +added, looking smilingly at the little girl who clung to her father.\ +\ +Nicholas went out holding the child by the hand.\ +\ +Countess Mary remained in the sitting room.\ +\ +"I should never, never have believed that one could be so happy," she\ +whispered to herself. A smile lit up her face but at the same time she\ +sighed, and her deep eyes expressed a quiet sadness as though she felt,\ +through her happiness, that there is another sort of happiness\ +unattainable in this life and of which she involuntarily thought at that\ +instant.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER X\ +\ +Natasha had married in the early spring of 1813, and in 1820 already had\ +three daughters besides a son for whom she had longed and whom she was\ +now nursing. She had grown stouter and broader, so that it was difficult\ +to recognize in this robust, motherly woman the slim, lively Natasha of\ +former days. Her features were more defined and had a calm, soft, and\ +serene expression. In her face there was none of the ever-glowing\ +animation that had formerly burned there and constituted its charm. Now\ +her face and body were often all that one saw, and her soul was not\ +visible at all. All that struck the eye was a strong, handsome, and\ +fertile woman. The old fire very rarely kindled in her face now. That\ +happened only when, as was the case that day, her husband returned home,\ +or a sick child was convalescent, or when she and Countess Mary spoke of\ +Prince Andrew (she never mentioned him to her husband, who she imagined\ +was jealous of Prince Andrew's memory), or on the rare occasions when\ +something happened to induce her to sing, a practice she had quite\ +abandoned since her marriage. At the rare moments when the old fire did\ +kindle in her handsome, fully developed body she was even more\ +attractive than in former days.\ +\ +Since their marriage Natasha and her husband had lived in Moscow, in\ +Petersburg, on their estate near Moscow, or with her mother, that is to\ +say, in Nicholas' house. The young Countess Bezukhova was not often seen\ +in society, and those who met her there were not pleased with her and\ +found her neither attractive nor amiable. Not that Natasha liked\ +solitude--she did not know whether she liked it or not, she even thought\ +that she did not--but with her pregnancies, her confinements, the\ +nursing of her children, and sharing every moment of her husband's life,\ +she had demands on her time which could be satisfied only by renouncing\ +society. All who had known Natasha before her marriage wondered at the\ +change in her as at something extraordinary. Only the old countess with\ +her maternal instinct had realized that all Natasha's outbursts had been\ +due to her need of children and a husband--as she herself had once\ +exclaimed at Otradnoe not so much in fun as in earnest--and her mother\ +was now surprised at the surprise expressed by those who had never\ +understood Natasha, and she kept saying that she had always known that\ +Natasha would make an exemplary wife and mother.\ +\ +"Only she lets her love of her husband and children overflow all\ +bounds," said the countess, "so that it even becomes absurd."\ +\ +Natasha did not follow the golden rule advocated by clever folk,\ +especially by the French, which says that a girl should not let herself\ +go when she marries, should not neglect her accomplishments, should be\ +even more careful of her appearance than when she was unmarried, and\ +should fascinate her husband as much as she did before he became her\ +husband. Natasha on the contrary had at once abandoned all her witchery,\ +of which her singing had been an unusually powerful part. She gave it up\ +just because it was so powerfully seductive. She took no pains with her\ +manners or with delicacy of speech, or with her toilet, or to show\ +herself to her husband in her most becoming attitudes, or to avoid\ +inconveniencing him by being too exacting. She acted in contradiction to\ +all those rules. She felt that the allurements instinct had formerly\ +taught her to use would now be merely ridiculous in the eyes of her\ +husband, to whom she had from the first moment given herself up\ +entirely--that is, with her whole soul, leaving no corner of it hidden\ +from him. She felt that her unity with her husband was not maintained by\ +the poetic feelings that had attracted him to her, but by something\ +else--indefinite but firm as the bond between her own body and soul.\ +\ +To fluff out her curls, put on fashionable dresses, and sing romantic\ +songs to fascinate her husband would have seemed as strange as to adorn\ +herself to attract herself. To adorn herself for others might perhaps\ +have been agreeable--she did not know--but she had no time at all for\ +it. The chief reason for devoting no time either to singing, to dress,\ +or to choosing her words was that she really had no time to spare for\ +these things.\ +\ +We know that man has the faculty of becoming completely absorbed in a\ +subject however trivial it may be, and that there is no subject so\ +trivial that it will not grow to infinite proportions if one's entire\ +attention is devoted to it.\ +\ +The subject which wholly engrossed Natasha's attention was her family:\ +that is, her husband whom she had to keep so that he should belong\ +entirely to her and to the home, and the children whom she had to bear,\ +bring into the world, nurse, and bring up.\ +\ +And the deeper she penetrated, not with her mind only but with her whole\ +soul, her whole being, into the subject that absorbed her, the larger\ +did that subject grow and the weaker and more inadequate did her powers\ +appear, so that she concentrated them wholly on that one thing and yet\ +was unable to accomplish all that she considered necessary.\ +\ +There were then as now conversations and discussions about women's\ +rights, the relations of husband and wife and their freedom and rights,\ +though these themes were not yet termed questions as they are now; but\ +these topics were not merely uninteresting to Natasha, she positively\ +did not understand them.\ +\ +These questions, then as now, existed only for those who see nothing in\ +marriage but the pleasure married people get from one another, that is,\ +only the beginnings of marriage and not its whole significance, which\ +lies in the family.\ +\ +Discussions and questions of that kind, which are like the question of\ +how to get the greatest gratification from one's dinner, did not then\ +and do not now exist for those for whom the purpose of a dinner is the\ +nourishment it affords; and the purpose of marriage is the family.\ +\ +If the purpose of dinner is to nourish the body, a man who eats two\ +dinners at once may perhaps get more enjoyment but will not attain his\ +purpose, for his stomach will not digest the two dinners.\ +\ +If the purpose of marriage is the family, the person who wishes to have\ +many wives or husbands may perhaps obtain much pleasure, but in that\ +case will not have a family.\ +\ +If the purpose of food is nourishment and the purpose of marriage is the\ +family, the whole question resolves itself into not eating more than one\ +can digest, and not having more wives or husbands than are needed for\ +the family--that is, one wife or one husband. Natasha needed a husband.\ +A husband was given her and he gave her a family. And she not only saw\ +no need of any other or better husband, but as all the powers of her\ +soul were intent on serving that husband and family, she could not\ +imagine and saw no interest in imagining how it would be if things were\ +different.\ +\ +Natasha did not care for society in general, but prized the more the\ +society of her relatives--Countess Mary, and her brother, her mother,\ +and Sonya. She valued the company of those to whom she could come\ +striding disheveled from the nursery in her dressing gown, and with\ +joyful face show a yellow instead of a green stain on baby's napkin, and\ +from whom she could hear reassuring words to the effect that baby was\ +much better.\ +\ +To such an extent had Natasha let herself go that the way she dressed\ +and did her hair, her ill-chosen words, and her jealousy--she was\ +jealous of Sonya, of the governess, and of every woman, pretty or plain-\ +-were habitual subjects of jest to those about her. The general opinion\ +was that Pierre was under his wife's thumb, which was really true. From\ +the very first days of their married life Natasha had announced her\ +demands. Pierre was greatly surprised by his wife's view, to him a\ +perfectly novel one, that every moment of his life belonged to her and\ +to the family. His wife's demands astonished him, but they also\ +flattered him, and he submitted to them.\ +\ +Pierre's subjection consisted in the fact that he not only dared not\ +flirt with, but dared not even speak smilingly to, any other woman; did\ +not dare dine at the club as a pastime, did not dare spend money on a\ +whim, and did not dare absent himself for any length of time, except on\ +business--in which his wife included his intellectual pursuits, which\ +she did not in the least understand but to which she attributed great\ +importance. To make up for this, at home Pierre had the right to\ +regulate his life and that of the whole family exactly as he chose. At\ +home Natasha placed herself in the position of a slave to her husband,\ +and the whole household went on tiptoe when he was occupied--that is,\ +was reading or writing in his study. Pierre had but to show a partiality\ +for anything to get just what he liked done always. He had only to\ +express a wish and Natasha would jump up and run to fulfill it.\ +\ +The entire household was governed according to Pierre's supposed orders,\ +that is, by his wishes which Natasha tried to guess. Their way of life\ +and place of residence, their acquaintances and ties, Natasha's\ +occupations, the children's upbringing, were all selected not merely\ +with regard to Pierre's expressed wishes, but to what Natasha from the\ +thoughts he expressed in conversation supposed his wishes to be. And she\ +deduced the essentials of his wishes quite correctly, and having once\ +arrived at them clung to them tenaciously. When Pierre himself wanted to\ +change his mind she would fight him with his own weapons.\ +\ +Thus in a time of trouble ever memorable to him after the birth of their\ +first child who was delicate, when they had to change the wet nurse\ +three times and Natasha fell ill from despair, Pierre one day told her\ +of Rousseau's view, with which he quite agreed, that to have a wet nurse\ +is unnatural and harmful. When her next baby was born, despite the\ +opposition of her mother, the doctors, and even of her husband himself--\ +who were all vigorously opposed to her nursing her baby herself, a thing\ +then unheard of and considered injurious--she insisted on having her own\ +way, and after that nursed all her babies herself.\ +\ +It very often happened that in a moment of irritation husband and wife\ +would have a dispute, but long afterwards Pierre to his surprise and\ +delight would find in his wife's ideas and actions the very thought\ +against which she had argued, but divested of everything superfluous\ +that in the excitement of the dispute he had added when expressing his\ +opinion.\ +\ +After seven years of marriage Pierre had the joyous and firm\ +consciousness that he was not a bad man, and he felt this because he saw\ +himself reflected in his wife. He felt the good and bad within himself\ +inextricably mingled and overlapping. But only what was really good in\ +him was reflected in his wife, all that was not quite good was rejected.\ +And this was not the result of logical reasoning but was a direct and\ +mysterious reflection.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XI\ +\ +Two months previously when Pierre was already staying with the Rostovs\ +he had received a letter from Prince Theodore, asking him to come to\ +Petersburg to confer on some important questions that were being\ +discussed there by a society of which Pierre was one of the principal\ +founders.\ +\ +On reading that letter (she always read her husband's letters) Natasha\ +herself suggested that he should go to Petersburg, though she would feel\ +his absence very acutely. She attributed immense importance to all her\ +husband's intellectual and abstract interests though she did not\ +understand them, and she always dreaded being a hindrance to him in such\ +matters. To Pierre's timid look of inquiry after reading the letter she\ +replied by asking him to go, but to fix a definite date for his return.\ +He was given four weeks' leave of absence.\ +\ +Ever since that leave of absence had expired, more than a fortnight\ +before, Natasha had been in a constant state of alarm, depression, and\ +irritability.\ +\ +Denisov, now a general on the retired list and much dissatisfied with\ +the present state of affairs, had arrived during that fortnight. He\ +looked at Natasha with sorrow and surprise as at a bad likeness of a\ +person once dear. A dull, dejected look, random replies, and talk about\ +the nursery was all he saw and heard from his former enchantress.\ +\ +Natasha was sad and irritable all that time, especially when her mother,\ +her brother, Sonya, or Countess Mary in their efforts to console her\ +tried to excuse Pierre and suggested reasons for his delay in returning.\ +\ +"It's all nonsense, all rubbish--those discussions which lead to nothing\ +and all those idiotic societies!" Natasha declared of the very affairs\ +in the immense importance of which she firmly believed.\ +\ +And she would go to the nursery to nurse Petya, her only boy. No one\ +else could tell her anything so comforting or so reasonable as this\ +little three-month-old creature when he lay at her breast and she was\ +conscious of the movement of his lips and the snuffling of his little\ +nose. That creature said: "You are angry, you are jealous, you would\ +like to pay him out, you are afraid--but here am I! And I am he..." and\ +that was unanswerable. It was more than true.\ +\ +During that fortnight of anxiety Natasha resorted to the baby for\ +comfort so often, and fussed over him so much, that she overfed him and\ +he fell ill. She was terrified by his illness, and yet that was just\ +what she needed. While attending to him she bore the anxiety about her\ +husband more easily.\ +\ +She was nursing her boy when the sound of Pierre's sleigh was heard at\ +the front door, and the old nurse--knowing how to please her mistress--\ +entered the room inaudibly but hurriedly and with a beaming face.\ +\ +"Has he come?" Natasha asked quickly in a whisper, afraid to move lest\ +she should rouse the dozing baby.\ +\ +"He's come, ma'am," whispered the nurse.\ +\ +The blood rushed to Natasha's face and her feet involuntarily moved, but\ +she could not jump up and run out. The baby again opened his eyes and\ +looked at her. "You're here?" he seemed to be saying, and again lazily\ +smacked his lips.\ +\ +Cautiously withdrawing her breast, Natasha rocked him a little, handed\ +him to the nurse, and went with rapid steps toward the door. But at the\ +door she stopped as if her conscience reproached her for having in her\ +joy left the child too soon, and she glanced round. The nurse with\ +raised elbows was lifting the infant over the rail of his cot.\ +\ +"Go, ma'am! Don't worry, go!" she whispered, smiling, with the kind of\ +familiarity that grows up between a nurse and her mistress.\ +\ +Natasha ran with light footsteps to the anteroom.\ +\ +Denisov, who had come out of the study into the dancing room with his\ +pipe, now for the first time recognized the old Natasha. A flood of\ +brilliant, joyful light poured from her transfigured face.\ +\ +"He's come!" she exclaimed as she ran past, and Denisov felt that he too\ +was delighted that Pierre, whom he did not much care for, had returned.\ +\ +On reaching the vestibule Natasha saw a tall figure in a fur coat\ +unwinding his scarf. "It's he! It's really he! He has come!" she said to\ +herself, and rushing at him embraced him, pressed his head to her\ +breast, and then pushed him back and gazed at his ruddy, happy face,\ +covered with hoarfrost. "Yes, it is he, happy and contented..."\ +\ +Then all at once she remembered the tortures of suspense she had\ +experienced for the last fortnight, and the joy that had lit up her face\ +vanished; she frowned and overwhelmed Pierre with a torrent of\ +reproaches and angry words.\ +\ +"Yes, it's all very well for you. You are pleased, you've had a good\ +time.... But what about me? You might at least have shown consideration\ +for the children. I am nursing and my milk was spoiled.... Petya was at\ +death's door. But you were enjoying yourself. Yes, enjoying..."\ +\ +Pierre knew he was not to blame, for he could not have come sooner; he\ +knew this outburst was unseemly and would blow over in a minute or two;\ +above all he knew that he himself was bright and happy. He wanted to\ +smile but dared not even think of doing so. He made a piteous,\ +frightened face and bent down.\ +\ +"I could not, on my honor. But how is Petya?"\ +\ +"All right now. Come along! I wonder you're not ashamed! If only you\ +could see what I was like without you, how I suffered!"\ +\ +"You are well?"\ +\ +"Come, come!" she said, not letting go of his arm. And they went to\ +their rooms.\ +\ +When Nicholas and his wife came to look for Pierre he was in the nursery\ +holding his baby son, who was again awake, on his huge right palm and\ +dandling him. A blissful bright smile was fixed on the baby's broad face\ +with its toothless open mouth. The storm was long since over and there\ +was bright, joyous sunshine on Natasha's face as she gazed tenderly at\ +her husband and child.\ +\ +"And have you talked everything well over with Prince Theodore?" she\ +asked.\ +\ +"Yes, capitally."\ +\ +"You see, he holds it up." (She meant the baby's head.) "But how he did\ +frighten me... You've seen the princess? Is it true she's in love with\ +that..."\ +\ +"Yes, just fancy..."\ +\ +At that moment Nicholas and Countess Mary came in. Pierre with the baby\ +on his hand stooped, kissed them, and replied to their inquiries. But in\ +spite of much that was interesting and had to be discussed, the baby\ +with the little cap on its unsteady head evidently absorbed all his\ +attention.\ +\ +"How sweet!" said Countess Mary, looking at and playing with the baby.\ +"Now, Nicholas," she added, turning to her husband, "I can't understand\ +how it is you don't see the charm of these delicious marvels."\ +\ +"I don't and can't," replied Nicholas, looking coldly at the baby. "A\ +lump of flesh. Come along, Pierre!"\ +\ +"And yet he's such an affectionate father," said Countess Mary,\ +vindicating her husband, "but only after they are a year old or so..."\ +\ +"Now, Pierre nurses them splendidly," said Natasha. "He says his hand is\ +just made for a baby's seat. Just look!"\ +\ +"Only not for this..." Pierre suddenly exclaimed with a laugh, and\ +shifting the baby he gave him to the nurse.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XII\ +\ +As in every large household, there were at Bald Hills several perfectly\ +distinct worlds which merged into one harmonious whole, though each\ +retained its own peculiarities and made concessions to the others. Every\ +event, joyful or sad, that took place in that house was important to all\ +these worlds, but each had its own special reasons to rejoice or grieve\ +over that occurrence independently of the others.\ +\ +For instance, Pierre's return was a joyful and important event and they\ +all felt it to be so.\ +\ +The servants--the most reliable judges of their masters because they\ +judge not by their conversation or expressions of feeling but by their\ +acts and way of life--were glad of Pierre's return because they knew\ +that when he was there Count Nicholas would cease going every day to\ +attend to the estate, and would be in better spirits and temper, and\ +also because they would all receive handsome presents for the holidays.\ +\ +The children and their governesses were glad of Pierre's return because\ +no one else drew them into the social life of the household as he did.\ +He alone could play on the clavichord that ecossaise (his only piece) to\ +which, as he said, all possible dances could be danced, and they felt\ +sure he had brought presents for them all.\ +\ +Young Nicholas, now a slim lad of fifteen, delicate and intelligent,\ +with curly light-brown hair and beautiful eyes, was delighted because\ +Uncle Pierre as he called him was the object of his rapturous and\ +passionate affection. No one had instilled into him this love for Pierre\ +whom he saw only occasionally. Countess Mary who had brought him up had\ +done her utmost to make him love her husband as she loved him, and\ +little Nicholas did love his uncle, but loved him with just a shade of\ +contempt. Pierre, however, he adored. He did not want to be an hussar or\ +a Knight of St. George like his uncle Nicholas; he wanted to be learned,\ +wise, and kind like Pierre. In Pierre's presence his face always shone\ +with pleasure and he flushed and was breathless when Pierre spoke to\ +him. He did not miss a single word he uttered, and would afterwards,\ +with Dessalles or by himself, recall and reconsider the meaning of\ +everything Pierre had said. Pierre's past life and his unhappiness prior\ +to 1812 (of which young Nicholas had formed a vague poetic picture from\ +some words he had overheard), his adventures in Moscow, his captivity,\ +Platon Karataev (of whom he had heard from Pierre), his love for Natasha\ +(of whom the lad was also particularly fond), and especially Pierre's\ +friendship with the father whom Nicholas could not remember--all this\ +made Pierre in his eyes a hero and a saint.\ +\ +From broken remarks about Natasha and his father, from the emotion with\ +which Pierre spoke of that dead father, and from the careful, reverent\ +tenderness with which Natasha spoke of him, the boy, who was only just\ +beginning to guess what love is, derived the notion that his father had\ +loved Natasha and when dying had left her to his friend. But the father\ +whom the boy did not remember appeared to him a divinity who could not\ +be pictured, and of whom he never thought without a swelling heart and\ +tears of sadness and rapture. So the boy also was happy that Pierre had\ +arrived.\ +\ +The guests welcomed Pierre because he always helped to enliven and unite\ +any company he was in.\ +\ +The grown-up members of the family, not to mention his wife, were\ +pleased to have back a friend whose presence made life run more smoothly\ +and peacefully.\ +\ +The old ladies were pleased with the presents he brought them, and\ +especially that Natasha would now be herself again.\ +\ +Pierre felt the different outlooks of these various worlds and made\ +haste to satisfy all their expectations.\ +\ +Though the most absent-minded and forgetful of men, Pierre, with the aid\ +of a list his wife drew up, had now bought everything, not forgetting\ +his mother--and brother-in-law's commissions, nor the dress material for\ +a present to Belova, nor toys for his wife's nephews. In the early days\ +of his marriage it had seemed strange to him that his wife should expect\ +him not to forget to procure all the things he undertook to buy, and he\ +had been taken aback by her serious annoyance when on his first trip he\ +forgot everything. But in time he grew used to this demand. Knowing that\ +Natasha asked nothing for herself, and gave him commissions for others\ +only when he himself had offered to undertake them, he now found an\ +unexpected and childlike pleasure in this purchase of presents for\ +everyone in the house, and never forgot anything. If he now incurred\ +Natasha's censure it was only for buying too many and too expensive\ +things. To her other defects (as most people thought them, but which to\ +Pierre were qualities) of untidiness and neglect of herself, she now\ +added stinginess.\ +\ +From the time that Pierre began life as a family man on a footing\ +entailing heavy expenditure, he had noticed to his surprise that he\ +spent only half as much as before, and that his affairs--which had been\ +in disorder of late, chiefly because of his first wife's debts--had\ +begun to improve.\ +\ +Life was cheaper because it was circumscribed: that most expensive\ +luxury, the kind of life that can be changed at any moment, was no\ +longer his nor did he wish for it. He felt that his way of life had now\ +been settled once for all till death and that to change it was not in\ +his power, and so that way of life proved economical.\ +\ +With a merry, smiling face Pierre was sorting his purchases.\ +\ +"What do you think of this?" said he, unrolling a piece of stuff like a\ +shopman.\ +\ +Natasha, who was sitting opposite to him with her eldest daughter on her\ +lap, turned her sparkling eyes swiftly from her husband to the things he\ +showed her.\ +\ +"That's for Belova? Excellent!" She felt the quality of the material.\ +"It was a ruble an arshin, I suppose?"\ +\ +Pierre told her the price.\ +\ +"Too dear!" Natasha remarked. "How pleased the children will be and\ +Mamma too! Only you need not have bought me this," she added, unable to\ +suppress a smile as she gazed admiringly at a gold comb set with pearls,\ +of a kind then just coming into fashion.\ +\ +"Adele tempted me: she kept on telling me to buy it," returned Pierre.\ +\ +"When am I to wear it?" and Natasha stuck it in her coil of hair. "When\ +I take little Masha into society? Perhaps they will be fashionable again\ +by then. Well, let's go now."\ +\ +And collecting the presents they went first to the nursery and then to\ +the old countess' rooms.\ +\ +The countess was sitting with her companion Belova, playing grand-\ +patience as usual, when Pierre and Natasha came into the drawing room\ +with parcels under their arms.\ +\ +The countess was now over sixty, was quite gray, and wore a cap with a\ +frill that surrounded her face. Her face had shriveled, her upper lip\ +had sunk in, and her eyes were dim.\ +\ +After the deaths of her son and husband in such rapid succession, she\ +felt herself a being accidentally forgotten in this world and left\ +without aim or object for her existence. She ate, drank, slept, or kept\ +awake, but did not live. Life gave her no new impressions. She wanted\ +nothing from life but tranquillity, and that tranquillity only death\ +could give her. But until death came she had to go on living, that is,\ +to use her vital forces. A peculiarity one sees in very young children\ +and very old people was particularly evident in her. Her life had no\ +external aims--only a need to exercise her various functions and\ +inclinations was apparent. She had to eat, sleep, think, speak, weep,\ +work, give vent to her anger, and so on, merely because she had a\ +stomach, a brain, muscles, nerves, and a liver. She did these things not\ +under any external impulse as people in the full vigor of life do, when\ +behind the purpose for which they strive that of exercising their\ +functions remains unnoticed. She talked only because she physically\ +needed to exercise her tongue and lungs. She cried as a child does,\ +because her nose had to be cleared, and so on. What for people in their\ +full vigor is an aim was for her evidently merely a pretext.\ +\ +Thus in the morning--especially if she had eaten anything rich the day\ +before--she felt a need of being angry and would choose as the handiest\ +pretext Belova's deafness.\ +\ +She would begin to say something to her in a low tone from the other end\ +of the room.\ +\ +"It seems a little warmer today, my dear," she would murmur.\ +\ +And when Belova replied: "Oh yes, they've come," she would mutter\ +angrily: "O Lord! How stupid and deaf she is!"\ +\ +Another pretext would be her snuff, which would seem too dry or too damp\ +or not rubbed fine enough. After these fits of irritability her face\ +would grow yellow, and her maids knew by infallible symptoms when Belova\ +would again be deaf, the snuff damp, and the countess' face yellow. Just\ +as she needed to work off her spleen so she had sometimes to exercise\ +her still-existing faculty of thinking--and the pretext for that was a\ +game of patience. When she needed to cry, the deceased count would be\ +the pretext. When she wanted to be agitated, Nicholas and his health\ +would be the pretext, and when she felt a need to speak spitefully, the\ +pretext would be Countess Mary. When her vocal organs needed exercise,\ +which was usually toward seven o'clock when she had had an after-dinner\ +rest in a darkened room, the pretext would be the retelling of the same\ +stories over and over again to the same audience.\ +\ +The old lady's condition was understood by the whole household though no\ +one ever spoke of it, and they all made every possible effort to satisfy\ +her needs. Only by a rare glance exchanged with a sad smile between\ +Nicholas, Pierre, Natasha, and Countess Mary was the common\ +understanding of her condition expressed.\ +\ +But those glances expressed something more: they said that she had\ +played her part in life, that what they now saw was not her whole self,\ +that we must all become like her, and that they were glad to yield to\ +her, to restrain themselves for this once precious being formerly as\ +full of life as themselves, but now so much to be pitied. "Memento\ +mori," said these glances.\ +\ +Only the really heartless, the stupid ones of that household, and the\ +little children failed to understand this and avoided her.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XIII\ +\ +When Pierre and his wife entered the drawing room the countess was in\ +one of her customary states in which she needed the mental exertion of\ +playing patience, and so--though by force of habit she greeted him with\ +the words she always used when Pierre or her son returned after an\ +absence: "High time, my dear, high time! We were all weary of waiting\ +for you. Well, thank God!" and received her presents with another\ +customary remark: "It's not the gift that's precious, my dear, but that\ +you give it to me, an old woman..."--yet it was evident that she was not\ +pleased by Pierre's arrival at that moment when it diverted her\ +attention from the unfinished game.\ +\ +She finished her game of patience and only then examined the presents.\ +They consisted of a box for cards, of splendid workmanship, a bright-\ +blue Sevres tea cup with shepherdesses depicted on it and with a lid,\ +and a gold snuffbox with the count's portrait on the lid which Pierre\ +had had done by a miniaturist in Petersburg. The countess had long\ +wished for such a box, but as she did not want to cry just then she\ +glanced indifferently at the portrait and gave her attention chiefly to\ +the box for cards.\ +\ +"Thank you, my dear, you have cheered me up," said she as she always\ +did. "But best of all you have brought yourself back--for I never saw\ +anything like it, you ought to give your wife a scolding! What are we to\ +do with her? She is like a mad woman when you are away. Doesn't see\ +anything, doesn't remember anything," she went on, repeating her usual\ +phrases. "Look, Anna Timofeevna," she added to her companion, "see what\ +a box for cards my son has brought us!"\ +\ +Belova admired the presents and was delighted with her dress material.\ +\ +Though Pierre, Natasha, Nicholas, Countess Mary, and Denisov had much to\ +talk about that they could not discuss before the old countess--not that\ +anything was hidden from her, but because she had dropped so far\ +behindhand in many things that had they begun to converse in her\ +presence they would have had to answer inopportune questions and to\ +repeat what they had already told her many times: that so-and-so was\ +dead and so-and-so was married, which she would again be unable to\ +remember--yet they sat at tea round the samovar in the drawing room from\ +habit, and Pierre answered the countess' questions as to whether Prince\ +Vasili had aged and whether Countess Mary Alexeevna had sent greetings\ +and still thought of them, and other matters that interested no one and\ +to which she herself was indifferent.\ +\ +Conversation of this kind, interesting to no one yet unavoidable,\ +continued all through teatime. All the grown-up members of the family\ +were assembled near the round tea table at which Sonya presided beside\ +the samovar. The children with their tutors and governesses had had tea\ +and their voices were audible from the next room. At tea all sat in\ +their accustomed places: Nicholas beside the stove at a small table\ +where his tea was handed to him; Milka, the old gray borzoi bitch\ +(daughter of the first Milka), with a quite gray face and large black\ +eyes that seemed more prominent than ever, lay on the armchair beside\ +him; Denisov, whose curly hair, mustache, and whiskers had turned half\ +gray, sat beside countess Mary with his general's tunic unbuttoned;\ +Pierre sat between his wife and the old countess. He spoke of what he\ +knew might interest the old lady and that she could understand. He told\ +her of external social events and of the people who had formed the\ +circle of her contemporaries and had once been a real, living, and\ +distinct group, but who were now for the most part scattered about the\ +world and like herself were garnering the last ears of the harvests they\ +had sown in earlier years. But to the old countess those contemporaries\ +of hers seemed to be the only serious and real society. Natasha saw by\ +Pierre's animation that his visit had been interesting and that he had\ +much to tell them but dare not say it before the old countess. Denisov,\ +not being a member of the family, did not understand Pierre's caution\ +and being, as a malcontent, much interested in what was occurring in\ +Petersburg, kept urging Pierre to tell them about what had happened in\ +the Semenovsk regiment, then about Arakcheev, and then about the Bible\ +Society. Once or twice Pierre was carried away and began to speak of\ +these things, but Nicholas and Natasha always brought him back to the\ +health of Prince Ivan and Countess Mary Alexeevna.\ +\ +"Well, and all this idiocy--Gossner and Tatawinova?" Denisov asked. "Is\ +that weally still going on?"\ +\ +\ +"Going on?" Pierre exclaimed. "Why more than ever! The Bible Society is\ +the whole government now!"\ +\ +"What is that, mon cher ami?" asked the countess, who had finished her\ +tea and evidently needed a pretext for being angry after her meal. "What\ +are you saying about the government? I don't understand."\ +\ +"Well, you know, Maman," Nicholas interposed, knowing how to translate\ +things into his mother's language, "Prince Alexander Golitsyn has\ +founded a society and in consequence has great influence, they say."\ +\ +"Arakcheev and Golitsyn," incautiously remarked Pierre, "are now the\ +whole government! And what a government! They see treason everywhere and\ +are afraid of everything."\ +\ +"Well, and how is Prince Alexander to blame? He is a most estimable man.\ +I used to meet him at Mary Antonovna's," said the countess in an\ +offended tone; and still more offended that they all remained silent,\ +she went on: "Nowadays everyone finds fault. A Gospel Society! Well, and\ +what harm is there in that?" and she rose (everybody else got up too)\ +and with a severe expression sailed back to her table in the sitting\ +room.\ +\ +The melancholy silence that followed was broken by the sounds of the\ +children's voices and laughter from the next room. Evidently some jolly\ +excitement was going on there.\ +\ +"Finished, finished!" little Natasha's gleeful yell rose above them all.\ +\ +Pierre exchanged glances with Countess Mary and Nicholas (Natasha he\ +never lost sight of) and smiled happily.\ +\ +"That's delightful music!" said he.\ +\ +"It means that Anna Makarovna has finished her stocking," said Countess\ +Mary.\ +\ +"Oh, I'll go and see," said Pierre, jumping up. "You know," he added,\ +stopping at the door, "why I'm especially fond of that music? It is\ +always the first thing that tells me all is well. When I was driving\ +here today, the nearer I got to the house the more anxious I grew. As I\ +entered the anteroom I heard Andrusha's peals of laughter and that meant\ +that all was well."\ +\ +"I know! I know that feeling," said Nicholas. "But I mustn't go there--\ +those stockings are to be a surprise for me."\ +\ +Pierre went to the children, and the shouting and laughter grew still\ +louder.\ +\ +"Come, Anna Makarovna," Pierre's voice was heard saying, "come here into\ +the middle of the room and at the word of command, 'One, two,' and when\ +I say 'three'... You stand here, and you in my arms--well now! One,\ +two!..." said Pierre, and a silence followed: "three!" and a rapturously\ +breathless cry of children's voices filled the room. "Two, two!" they\ +shouted.\ +\ +This meant two stockings, which by a secret process known only to\ +herself Anna Makarovna used to knit at the same time on the same\ +needles, and which, when they were ready, she always triumphantly drew,\ +one out of the other, in the children's presence.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XIV\ +\ +Soon after this the children came in to say good night. They kissed\ +everyone, the tutors and governesses made their bows, and they went out.\ +Only young Nicholas and his tutor remained. Dessalles whispered to the\ +boy to come downstairs.\ +\ +"No, Monsieur Dessalles, I will ask my aunt to let me stay," replied\ +Nicholas Bolkonski also in a whisper.\ +\ +"Ma tante, please let me stay," said he, going up to his aunt.\ +\ +His face expressed entreaty, agitation, and ecstasy. Countess Mary\ +glanced at him and turned to Pierre.\ +\ +"When you are here he can't tear himself away," she said.\ +\ +"I will bring him to you directly, Monsieur Dessalles. Good night!" said\ +Pierre, giving his hand to the Swiss tutor, and he turned to young\ +Nicholas with a smile. "You and I haven't seen anything of one another\ +yet... How like he is growing, Mary!" he added, addressing Countess\ +Mary.\ +\ +"Like my father?" asked the boy, flushing crimson and looking up at\ +Pierre with bright, ecstatic eyes.\ +\ +Pierre nodded, and went on with what he had been saying when the\ +children had interrupted. Countess Mary sat down doing woolwork; Natasha\ +did not take her eyes off her husband. Nicholas and Denisov rose, asked\ +for their pipes, smoked, went to fetch more tea from Sonya--who sat\ +weary but resolute at the samovar--and questioned Pierre. The curly-\ +headed, delicate boy sat with shining eyes unnoticed in a corner,\ +starting every now and then and muttering something to himself, and\ +evidently experiencing a new and powerful emotion as he turned his curly\ +head, with his thin neck exposed by his turn-down collar, toward the\ +place where Pierre sat.\ +\ +The conversation turned on the contemporary gossip about those in power,\ +in which most people see the chief interest of home politics. Denisov,\ +dissatisfied with the government on account of his own disappointments\ +in the service, heard with pleasure of the things done in Petersburg\ +which seemed to him stupid, and made forcible and sharp comments on what\ +Pierre told them.\ +\ +"One used to have to be a German--now one must dance with Tatawinova and\ +Madame Kwudener, and wead Ecka'tshausen and the bwethwen. Oh, they\ +should let that fine fellow Bonaparte loose--he'd knock all this\ +nonsense out of them! Fancy giving the command of the Semenov wegiment\ +to a fellow like that Schwa'tz!" he cried.\ +\ +Nicholas, though free from Denisov's readiness to find fault with\ +everything, also thought that discussion of the government was a very\ +serious and weighty matter, and the fact that A had been appointed\ +Minister of This and B Governor General of That, and that the Emperor\ +had said so-and-so and this minister so-and-so, seemed to him very\ +important. And so he thought it necessary to take an interest in these\ +things and to question Pierre. The questions put by these two kept the\ +conversation from changing its ordinary character of gossip about the\ +higher government circles.\ +\ +But Natasha, knowing all her husband's ways and ideas, saw that he had\ +long been wishing but had been unable to divert the conversation to\ +another channel and express his own deeply felt idea for the sake of\ +which he had gone to Petersburg to consult with his new friend Prince\ +Theodore, and she helped him by asking how his affairs with Prince\ +Theodore had gone.\ +\ +"What was it about?" asked Nicholas.\ +\ +"Always the same thing," said Pierre, looking round at his listeners.\ +"Everybody sees that things are going so badly that they cannot be\ +allowed to go on so and that it is the duty of all decent men to\ +counteract it as far as they can."\ +\ +"What can decent men do?" Nicholas inquired, frowning slightly. "What\ +can be done?"\ +\ +"Why, this..."\ +\ +"Come into my study," said Nicholas.\ +\ +Natasha, who had long expected to be fetched to nurse her baby, now\ +heard the nurse calling her and went to the nursery. Countess Mary\ +followed her. The men went into the study and little Nicholas Bolkonski\ +followed them unnoticed by his uncle and sat down at the writing table\ +in a shady corner by the window.\ +\ +"Well, what would you do?" asked Denisov.\ +\ +"Always some fantastic schemes," said Nicholas.\ +\ +"Why this," began Pierre, not sitting down but pacing the room,\ +sometimes stopping short, gesticulating, and lisping: "the position in\ +Petersburg is this: the Emperor does not look into anything. He has\ +abandoned himself altogether to this mysticism" (Pierre could not\ +tolerate mysticism in anyone now). "He seeks only for peace, and only\ +these people sans foi ni loi * can give it him--people who recklessly\ +hack at and strangle everything--Magnitski, Arakcheev, and tutti\ +quanti.... You will agree that if you did not look after your estates\ +yourself but only wanted a quiet life, the harsher your steward was the\ +more readily your object might be attained," he said to Nicholas.\ +\ +\ +* Without faith or law.\ +\ +"Well, what does that lead up to?" said Nicholas.\ +\ +"Well, everything is going to ruin! Robbery in the law courts, in the\ +army nothing but flogging, drilling, and Military Settlements; the\ +people are tortured, enlightenment is suppressed. All that is young and\ +honest is crushed! Everyone sees that this cannot go on. Everything is\ +strained to such a degree that it will certainly break," said Pierre (as\ +those who examine the actions of any government have always said since\ +governments began). "I told them just one thing in Petersburg."\ +\ +"Told whom?"\ +\ +"Well, you know whom," said Pierre, with a meaning glance from under his\ +brows. "Prince Theodore and all those. To encourage culture and\ +philanthropy is all very well of course. The aim is excellent but in the\ +present circumstances something else is needed."\ +\ +At that moment Nicholas noticed the presence of his nephew. His face\ +darkened and he went up to the boy.\ +\ +"Why are you here?"\ +\ +"Why? Let him be," said Pierre, taking Nicholas by the arm and\ +continuing. "That is not enough, I told them. Something else is needed.\ +When you stand expecting the overstrained string to snap at any moment,\ +when everyone is expecting the inevitable catastrophe, as many as\ +possible must join hands as closely as they can to withstand the general\ +calamity. Everything that is young and strong is being enticed away and\ +depraved. One is lured by women, another by honors, a third by ambition\ +or money, and they go over to that camp. No independent men, such as you\ +or I, are left. What I say is widen the scope of our society, let the\ +mot d'ordre be not virtue alone but independence and action as well!"\ +\ +Nicholas, who had left his nephew, irritably pushed up an armchair, sat\ +down in it, and listened to Pierre, coughing discontentedly and frowning\ +more and more.\ +\ +"But action with what aim?" he cried. "And what position will you adopt\ +toward the government?"\ +\ +"Why, the position of assistants. The society need not be secret if the\ +government allows it. Not merely is it not hostile to government, but it\ +is a society of true conservatives--a society of gentlemen in the full\ +meaning of that word. It is only to prevent some Pugachev or other from\ +killing my children and yours, and Arakcheev from sending me off to some\ +Military Settlement. We join hands only for the public welfare and the\ +general safety."\ +\ +"Yes, but it's a secret society and therefore a hostile and harmful one\ +which can only cause harm."\ +\ +"Why? Did the Tugendbund which saved Europe" (they did not then venture\ +to suggest that Russia had saved Europe) "do any harm? The Tugendbund is\ +an alliance of virtue: it is love, mutual help... it is what Christ\ +preached on the Cross."\ +\ +Natasha, who had come in during the conversation, looked joyfully at her\ +husband. It was not what he was saying that pleased her--that did not\ +even interest her, for it seemed to her that was all extremely simple\ +and that she had known it a long time (it seemed so to her because she\ +knew that it sprang from Pierre's whole soul), but it was his animated\ +and enthusiastic appearance that made her glad.\ +\ +The boy with the thin neck stretching out from the turn-down collar--\ +whom everyone had forgotten--gazed at Pierre with even greater and more\ +rapturous joy. Every word of Pierre's burned into his heart, and with a\ +nervous movement of his fingers he unconsciously broke the sealing wax\ +and quill pens his hands came upon on his uncle's table.\ +\ +"It is not at all what you suppose; but that is what the German\ +Tugendbund was, and what I am proposing."\ +\ +"No, my fwiend! The Tugendbund is all vewy well for the sausage eaters,\ +but I don't understand it and can't even pwonounce it," interposed\ +Denisov in a loud and resolute voice. "I agwee that evewything here is\ +wotten and howwible, but the Tugendbund I don't understand. If we're not\ +satisfied, let us have a bunt of our own. That's all wight. Je suis\ +vot'e homme!" *\ +\ +\ +* "I'm your man."\ +\ +Pierre smiled, Natasha began to laugh, but Nicholas knitted his brows\ +still more and began proving to Pierre that there was no prospect of any\ +great change and that all the danger he spoke of existed only in his\ +imagination. Pierre maintained the contrary, and as his mental faculties\ +were greater and more resourceful, Nicholas felt himself cornered. This\ +made him still angrier, for he was fully convinced, not by reasoning but\ +by something within him stronger than reason, of the justice of his\ +opinion.\ +\ +"I will tell you this," he said, rising and trying with nervously\ +twitching fingers to prop up his pipe in a corner, but finally\ +abandoning the attempt. "I can't prove it to you. You say that\ +everything here is rotten and that an overthrow is coming: I don't see\ +it. But you also say that our oath of allegiance is a conditional\ +matter, and to that I reply: 'You are my best friend, as you know, but\ +if you formed a secret society and began working against the government-\ +-be it what it may--I know it is my duty to obey the government. And if\ +Arakcheev ordered me to lead a squadron against you and cut you down, I\ +should not hesitate an instant, but should do it.' And you may argue\ +about that as you like!"\ +\ +An awkward silence followed these words. Natasha was the first to speak,\ +defending her husband and attacking her brother. Her defense was weak\ +and inapt but she attained her object. The conversation was resumed, and\ +no longer in the unpleasantly hostile tone of Nicholas' last remark.\ +\ +When they all got up to go in to supper, little Nicholas Bolkonski went\ +up to Pierre, pale and with shining, radiant eyes.\ +\ +"Uncle Pierre, you... no... If Papa were alive... would he agree with\ +you?" he asked.\ +\ +And Pierre suddenly realized what a special, independent, complex, and\ +powerful process of thought and feeling must have been going on in this\ +boy during that conversation, and remembering all he had said he\ +regretted that the lad should have heard him. He had, however, to give\ +him an answer.\ +\ +"Yes, I think so," he said reluctantly, and left the study.\ +\ +The lad looked down and seemed now for the first time to notice what he\ +had done to the things on the table. He flushed and went up to Nicholas.\ +\ +"Uncle, forgive me, I did that... unintentionally," he said, pointing to\ +the broken sealing wax and pens.\ +\ +Nicholas started angrily.\ +\ +"All right, all right," he said, throwing the bits under the table.\ +\ +And evidently suppressing his vexation with difficulty, he turned away\ +from the boy.\ +\ +"You ought not to have been here at all," he said.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XV\ +\ +The conversation at supper was not about politics or societies, but\ +turned on the subject Nicholas liked best--recollections of 1812.\ +Denisov started these and Pierre was particularly agreeable and amusing\ +about them. The family separated on the most friendly terms.\ +\ +After supper Nicholas, having undressed in his study and given\ +instructions to the steward who had been waiting for him, went to the\ +bedroom in his dressing gown, where he found his wife still at her\ +table, writing.\ +\ +"What are you writing, Mary?" Nicholas asked.\ +\ +Countess Mary blushed. She was afraid that what she was writing would\ +not be understood or approved by her husband.\ +\ +She had wanted to conceal what she was writing from him, but at the same\ +time was glad he had surprised her at it and that she would now have to\ +tell him.\ +\ +"A diary, Nicholas," she replied, handing him a blue exercise book\ +filled with her firm, bold writing.\ +\ +"A diary?" Nicholas repeated with a shade of irony, and he took up the\ +book.\ +\ +It was in French.\ +\ +December 4. Today when Andrusha (her eldest boy) woke up he did not wish\ +to dress and Mademoiselle Louise sent for me. He was naughty and\ +obstinate. I tried threats, but he only grew angrier. Then I took the\ +matter in hand: I left him alone and began with nurse's help to get the\ +other children up, telling him that I did not love him. For a long time\ +he was silent, as if astonished, then he jumped out of bed, ran to me in\ +his shirt, and sobbed so that I could not calm him for a long time. It\ +was plain that what troubled him most was that he had grieved me.\ +Afterwards in the evening when I gave him his ticket, he again began\ +crying piteously and kissing me. One can do anything with him by\ +tenderness.\ +\ +"What is a 'ticket'?" Nicholas inquired.\ +\ +"I have begun giving the elder ones marks every evening, showing how\ +they have behaved."\ +\ +Nicholas looked into the radiant eyes that were gazing at him, and\ +continued to turn over the pages and read. In the diary was set down\ +everything in the children's lives that seemed noteworthy to their\ +mother as showing their characters or suggesting general reflections on\ +educational methods. They were for the most part quite insignificant\ +trifles, but did not seem so to the mother or to the father either, now\ +that he read this diary about his children for the first time.\ +\ +Under the date "5" was entered:\ +\ +Mitya was naughty at table. Papa said he was to have no pudding. He had\ +none, but looked so unhappily and greedily at the others while they were\ +eating! I think that punishment by depriving children of sweets only\ +develops their greediness. Must tell Nicholas this.\ +\ +Nicholas put down the book and looked at his wife. The radiant eyes\ +gazed at him questioningly: would he approve or disapprove of her diary?\ +There could be no doubt not only of his approval but also of his\ +admiration for his wife.\ +\ +Perhaps it need not be done so pedantically, thought Nicholas, or even\ +done at all, but this untiring, continual spiritual effort of which the\ +sole aim was the children's moral welfare delighted him. Had Nicholas\ +been able to analyze his feelings he would have found that his steady,\ +tender, and proud love of his wife rested on his feeling of wonder at\ +her spirituality and at the lofty moral world, almost beyond his reach,\ +in which she had her being.\ +\ +He was proud of her intelligence and goodness, recognized his own\ +insignificance beside her in the spiritual world, and rejoiced all the\ +more that she with such a soul not only belonged to him but was part of\ +himself.\ +\ +"I quite, quite approve, my dearest!" said he with a significant look,\ +and after a short pause he added: "And I behaved badly today. You\ +weren't in the study. We began disputing--Pierre and I--and I lost my\ +temper. But he is impossible: such a child! I don't know what would\ +become of him if Natasha didn't keep him in hand.... Have you any idea\ +why he went to Petersburg? They have formed..."\ +\ +"Yes, I know," said Countess Mary. "Natasha told me."\ +\ +"Well, then, you know," Nicholas went on, growing hot at the mere\ +recollection of their discussion, "he wanted to convince me that it is\ +every honest man's duty to go against the government, and that the oath\ +of allegiance and duty... I am sorry you weren't there. They all fell on\ +me--Denisov and Natasha... Natasha is absurd. How she rules over him!\ +And yet there need only be a discussion and she has no words of her own\ +but only repeats his sayings..." added Nicholas, yielding to that\ +irresistible inclination which tempts us to judge those nearest and\ +dearest to us. He forgot that what he was saying about Natasha could\ +have been applied word for word to himself in relation to his wife.\ +\ +"Yes, I have noticed that," said Countess Mary.\ +\ +"When I told him that duty and the oath were above everything, he\ +started proving goodness knows what! A pity you were not there--what\ +would you have said?"\ +\ +"As I see it you were quite right, and I told Natasha so. Pierre says\ +everybody is suffering, tortured, and being corrupted, and that it is\ +our duty to help our neighbor. Of course he is right there," said\ +Countess Mary, "but he forgets that we have other duties nearer to us,\ +duties indicated to us by God Himself, and that though we might expose\ +ourselves to risks we must not risk our children."\ +\ +"Yes, that's it! That's just what I said to him," put in Nicholas, who\ +fancied he really had said it. "But they insisted on their own view:\ +love of one's neighbor and Christianity--and all this in the presence of\ +young Nicholas, who had gone into my study and broke all my things."\ +\ +"Ah, Nicholas, do you know I am often troubled about little Nicholas,"\ +said Countess Mary. "He is such an exceptional boy. I am afraid I\ +neglect him in favor of my own: we all have children and relations while\ +he has no one. He is constantly alone with his thoughts."\ +\ +"Well, I don't think you need reproach yourself on his account. All that\ +the fondest mother could do for her son you have done and are doing for\ +him, and of course I am glad of it. He is a fine lad, a fine lad! This\ +evening he listened to Pierre in a sort of trance, and fancy--as we were\ +going in to supper I looked and he had broken everything on my table to\ +bits, and he told me of it himself at once! I never knew him to tell an\ +untruth. A fine lad, a fine lad!" repeated Nicholas, who at heart was\ +not fond of Nicholas Bolkonski but was always anxious to recognize that\ +he was a fine lad.\ +\ +"Still, I am not the same as his own mother," said Countess Mary. "I\ +feel I am not the same and it troubles me. A wonderful boy, but I am\ +dreadfully afraid for him. It would be good for him to have companions."\ +\ +"Well it won't be for long. Next summer I'll take him to Petersburg,"\ +said Nicholas. "Yes, Pierre always was a dreamer and always will be," he\ +continued, returning to the talk in the study which had evidently\ +disturbed him. "Well, what business is it of mine what goes on there--\ +whether Arakcheev is bad, and all that? What business was it of mine\ +when I married and was so deep in debt that I was threatened with\ +prison, and had a mother who could not see or understand it? And then\ +there are you and the children and our affairs. Is it for my own\ +pleasure that I am at the farm or in the office from morning to night?\ +No, but I know I must work to comfort my mother, to repay you, and not\ +to leave the children such beggars as I was."\ +\ +Countess Mary wanted to tell him that man does not live by bread alone\ +and that he attached too much importance to these matters. But she knew\ +she must not say this and that it would be useless to do so. She only\ +took his hand and kissed it. He took this as a sign of approval and a\ +confirmation of his thoughts, and after a few minutes' reflection\ +continued to think aloud.\ +\ +"You know, Mary, today Elias Mitrofanych" (this was his overseer) "came\ +back from the Tambov estate and told me they are already offering eighty\ +thousand rubles for the forest."\ +\ +And with an eager face Nicholas began to speak of the possibility of\ +repurchasing Otradnoe before long, and added: "Another ten years of life\ +and I shall leave the children... in an excellent position."\ +\ +Countess Mary listened to her husband and understood all that he told\ +her. She knew that when he thought aloud in this way he would sometimes\ +ask her what he had been saying, and be vexed if he noticed that she had\ +been thinking about something else. But she had to force herself to\ +attend, for what he was saying did not interest her at all. She looked\ +at him and did not think, but felt, about something different. She felt\ +a submissive tender love for this man who would never understand all\ +that she understood, and this seemed to make her love for him still\ +stronger and added a touch of passionate tenderness. Besides this\ +feeling which absorbed her altogether and hindered her from following\ +the details of her husband's plans, thoughts that had no connection with\ +what he was saying flitted through her mind. She thought of her nephew.\ +Her husband's account of the boy's agitation while Pierre was speaking\ +struck her forcibly, and various traits of his gentle, sensitive\ +character recurred to her mind; and while thinking of her nephew she\ +thought also of her own children. She did not compare them with him, but\ +compared her feeling for them with her feeling for him, and felt with\ +regret that there was something lacking in her feeling for young\ +Nicholas.\ +\ +Sometimes it seemed to her that this difference arose from the\ +difference in their ages, but she felt herself to blame toward him and\ +promised in her heart to do better and to accomplish the impossible--in\ +this life to love her husband, her children, little Nicholas, and all\ +her neighbors, as Christ loved mankind. Countess Mary's soul always\ +strove toward the infinite, the eternal, and the absolute, and could\ +therefore never be at peace. A stern expression of the lofty, secret\ +suffering of a soul burdened by the body appeared on her face. Nicholas\ +gazed at her. "O God! What will become of us if she dies, as I always\ +fear when her face is like that?" thought he, and placing himself before\ +the icon he began to say his evening prayers.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XVI\ +\ +Natasha and Pierre, left alone, also began to talk as only a husband and\ +wife can talk, that is, with extraordinary clearness and rapidity,\ +understanding and expressing each other's thoughts in ways contrary to\ +all rules of logic, without premises, deductions, or conclusions, and in\ +a quite peculiar way. Natasha was so used to this kind of talk with her\ +husband that for her it was the surest sign of something being wrong\ +between them if Pierre followed a line of logical reasoning. When he\ +began proving anything, or talking argumentatively and calmly and she,\ +led on by his example, began to do the same, she knew that they were on\ +the verge of a quarrel.\ +\ +From the moment they were alone and Natasha came up to him with wide-\ +open happy eyes, and quickly seizing his head pressed it to her bosom,\ +saying: "Now you are all mine, mine! You won't escape!"--from that\ +moment this conversation began, contrary to all the laws of logic and\ +contrary to them because quite different subjects were talked about at\ +one and the same time. This simultaneous discussion of many topics did\ +not prevent a clear understanding but on the contrary was the surest\ +sign that they fully understood one another.\ +\ +Just as in a dream when all is uncertain, unreasoning, and\ +contradictory, except the feeling that guides the dream, so in this\ +intercourse contrary to all laws of reason, the words themselves were\ +not consecutive and clear but only the feeling that prompted them.\ +\ +Natasha spoke to Pierre about her brother's life and doings, of how she\ +had suffered and lacked life during his own absence, and of how she was\ +fonder than ever of Mary, and how Mary was in every way better than\ +herself. In saying this Natasha was sincere in acknowledging Mary's\ +superiority, but at the same time by saying it she made a demand on\ +Pierre that he should, all the same, prefer her to Mary and to all other\ +women, and that now, especially after having seen many women in\ +Petersburg, he should tell her so afresh.\ +\ +Pierre, answering Natasha's words, told her how intolerable it had been\ +for him to meet ladies at dinners and balls in Petersburg.\ +\ +"I have quite lost the knack of talking to ladies," he said. "It was\ +simply dull. Besides, I was very busy."\ +\ +Natasha looked intently at him and went on:\ +\ +"Mary is so splendid," she said. "How she understands children! It is as\ +if she saw straight into their souls. Yesterday, for instance, Mitya was\ +naughty..."\ +\ +"How like his father he is," Pierre interjected.\ +\ +Natasha knew why he mentioned Mitya's likeness to Nicholas: the\ +recollection of his dispute with his brother-in-law was unpleasant and\ +he wanted to know what Natasha thought of it.\ +\ +"Nicholas has the weakness of never agreeing with anything not generally\ +accepted. But I understand that you value what opens up a fresh line,"\ +said she, repeating words Pierre had once uttered.\ +\ +"No, the chief point is that to Nicholas ideas and discussions are an\ +amusement--almost a pastime," said Pierre. "For instance, he is\ +collecting a library and has made it a rule not to buy a new book till\ +he has read what he had already bought--Sismondi and Rousseau and\ +Montesquieu," he added with a smile. "You know how much I..." he began\ +to soften down what he had said; but Natasha interrupted him to show\ +that this was unnecessary.\ +\ +"So you say ideas are an amusement to him...."\ +\ +"Yes, and for me nothing else is serious. All the time in Petersburg I\ +saw everyone as in a dream. When I am taken up by a thought, all else is\ +mere amusement."\ +\ +"Ah, I'm so sorry I wasn't there when you met the children," said\ +Natasha. "Which was most delighted? Lisa, I'm sure."\ +\ +"Yes," Pierre replied, and went on with what was in his mind. "Nicholas\ +says we ought not to think. But I can't help it. Besides, when I was in\ +Petersburg I felt (I can say this to you) that the whole affair would go\ +to pieces without me--everyone was pulling his own way. But I succeeded\ +in uniting them all; and then my idea is so clear and simple. You see, I\ +don't say that we ought to oppose this and that. We may be mistaken.\ +What I say is: 'Join hands, you who love the right, and let there be but\ +one banner--that of active virtue.' Prince Sergey is a fine fellow and\ +clever."\ +\ +Natasha would have had no doubt as to the greatness of Pierre's idea,\ +but one thing disconcerted her. "Can a man so important and necessary to\ +society be also my husband? How did this happen?" She wished to express\ +this doubt to him. "Now who could decide whether he is really cleverer\ +than all the others?" she asked herself, and passed in review all those\ +whom Pierre most respected. Judging by what he had said there was no one\ +he had respected so highly as Platon Karataev.\ +\ +"Do you know what I am thinking about?" she asked. "About Platon\ +Karataev. Would he have approved of you now, do you think?"\ +\ +Pierre was not at all surprised at this question. He understood his\ +wife's line of thought.\ +\ +"Platon Karataev?" he repeated, and pondered, evidently sincerely trying\ +to imagine Karataev's opinion on the subject. "He would not have\ +understood... yet perhaps he would."\ +\ +"I love you awfully!" Natasha suddenly said. "Awfully, awfully!"\ +\ +"No, he would not have approved," said Pierre, after reflection. "What\ +he would have approved of is our family life. He was always so anxious\ +to find seemliness, happiness, and peace in everything, and I should\ +have been proud to let him see us. There now--you talk of my absence,\ +but you wouldn't believe what a special feeling I have for you after a\ +separation...."\ +\ +"Yes, I should think..." Natasha began.\ +\ +"No, it's not that. I never leave off loving you. And one couldn't love\ +more, but this is something special.... Yes, of course-" he did not\ +finish because their eyes meeting said the rest.\ +\ +"What nonsense it is," Natasha suddenly exclaimed, "about honeymoons,\ +and that the greatest happiness is at first! On the contrary, now is the\ +best of all. If only you did not go away! Do you remember how we\ +quarreled? And it was always my fault. Always mine. And what we\ +quarreled about--I don't even remember!"\ +\ +"Always about the same thing," said Pierre with a smile. "Jealo..."\ +\ +"Don't say it! I can't bear it!" Natasha cried, and her eyes glittered\ +coldly and vindictively. "Did you see her?" she added, after a pause.\ +\ +"No, and if I had I shouldn't have recognized her."\ +\ +They were silent for a while.\ +\ +"Oh, do you know? While you were talking in the study I was looking at\ +you," Natasha began, evidently anxious to disperse the cloud that had\ +come over them. "You are as like him as two peas--like the boy." (She\ +meant her little son.) "Oh, it's time to go to him.... The milk's\ +come.... But I'm sorry to leave you."\ +\ +They were silent for a few seconds. Then suddenly turning to one another\ +at the same time they both began to speak. Pierre began with self-\ +satisfaction and enthusiasm, Natasha with a quiet, happy smile. Having\ +interrupted one another they both stopped to let the other continue.\ +\ +"No. What did you say? Go on, go on."\ +\ +"No, you go on, I was talking nonsense," said Natasha.\ +\ +Pierre finished what he had begun. It was the sequel to his complacent\ +reflections on his success in Petersburg. At that moment it seemed to\ +him that he was chosen to give a new direction to the whole of Russian\ +society and to the whole world.\ +\ +"I only wished to say that ideas that have great results are always\ +simple ones. My whole idea is that if vicious people are united and\ +constitute a power, then honest folk must do the same. Now that's simple\ +enough."\ +\ +"Yes."\ +\ +"And what were you going to say?"\ +\ +"I? Only nonsense."\ +\ +"But all the same?"\ +\ +"Oh nothing, only a trifle," said Natasha, smilingly still more\ +brightly. "I only wanted to tell you about Petya: today nurse was coming\ +to take him from me, and he laughed, shut his eyes, and clung to me. I'm\ +sure he thought he was hiding. Awfully sweet! There, now he's crying.\ +Well, good-by!" and she left the room.\ +\ +Meanwhile downstairs in young Nicholas Bolkonski's bedroom a little lamp\ +was burning as usual. (The boy was afraid of the dark and they could not\ +cure him of it.) Dessalles slept propped up on four pillows and his\ +Roman nose emitted sounds of rhythmic snoring. Little Nicholas, who had\ +just waked up in a cold perspiration, sat up in bed and gazed before him\ +with wide-open eyes. He had awaked from a terrible dream. He had dreamed\ +that he and Uncle Pierre, wearing helmets such as were depicted in his\ +Plutarch, were leading a huge army. The army was made up of white\ +slanting lines that filled the air like the cobwebs that float about in\ +autumn and which Dessalles called les fils de la Vierge. In front was\ +Glory, which was similar to those threads but rather thicker. He and\ +Pierre were borne along lightly and joyously, nearer and nearer to their\ +goal. Suddenly the threads that moved them began to slacken and become\ +entangled and it grew difficult to move. And Uncle Nicholas stood before\ +them in a stern and threatening attitude.\ +\ +"Have you done this?" he said, pointing to some broken sealing wax and\ +pens. "I loved you, but I have orders from Arakcheev and will kill the\ +first of you who moves forward." Little Nicholas turned to look at\ +Pierre but Pierre was no longer there. In his place was his father--\ +Prince Andrew--and his father had neither shape nor form, but he\ +existed, and when little Nicholas perceived him he grew faint with love:\ +he felt himself powerless, limp, and formless. His father caressed and\ +pitied him. But Uncle Nicholas came nearer and nearer to them. Terror\ +seized young Nicholas and he awoke.\ +\ +"My father!" he thought. (Though there were two good portraits of Prince\ +Andrew in the house, Nicholas never imagined him in human form.) "My\ +father has been with me and caressed me. He approved of me and of Uncle\ +Pierre. Whatever he may tell me, I will do it. Mucius Scaevola burned\ +his hand. Why should not the same sort of thing happen to me? I know\ +they want me to learn. And I will learn. But someday I shall have\ +finished learning, and then I will do something. I only pray God that\ +something may happen to me such as happened to Plutarch's men, and I\ +will act as they did. I will do better. Everyone shall know me, love me,\ +and be delighted with me!" And suddenly his bosom heaved with sobs and\ +he began to cry.\ +\ +"Are you ill?" he heard Dessalles' voice asking.\ +\ +"No," answered Nicholas, and lay back on his pillow.\ +\ +"He is good and kind and I am fond of him!" he thought of Dessalles.\ +"But Uncle Pierre! Oh, what a wonderful man he is! And my father? Oh,\ +Father, Father! Yes, I will do something with which even he would be\ +satisfied...."\ +\ +SECOND EPILOGUE\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER I\ +\ +History is the life of nations and of humanity. To seize and put into\ +words, to describe directly the life of humanity or even of a single\ +nation, appears impossible.\ +\ +The ancient historians all employed one and the same method to describe\ +and seize the apparently elusive--the life of a people. They described\ +the activity of individuals who ruled the people, and regarded the\ +activity of those men as representing the activity of the whole nation.\ +\ +The question: how did individuals make nations act as they wished and by\ +what was the will of these individuals themselves guided? the ancients\ +met by recognizing a divinity which subjected the nations to the will of\ +a chosen man, and guided the will of that chosen man so as to accomplish\ +ends that were predestined.\ +\ +For the ancients these questions were solved by a belief in the direct\ +participation of the Deity in human affairs.\ +\ +Modern history, in theory, rejects both these principles.\ +\ +It would seem that having rejected the belief of the ancients in man's\ +subjection to the Deity and in a predetermined aim toward which nations\ +are led, modern history should study not the manifestations of power but\ +the causes that produce it. But modern history has not done this. Having\ +in theory rejected the view held by the ancients, it still follows them\ +in practice.\ +\ +Instead of men endowed with divine authority and directly guided by the\ +will of God, modern history has given us either heroes endowed with\ +extraordinary, superhuman capacities, or simply men of very various\ +kinds, from monarchs to journalists, who lead the masses. Instead of the\ +former divinely appointed aims of the Jewish, Greek, or Roman nations,\ +which ancient historians regarded as representing the progress of\ +humanity, modern history has postulated its own aims--the welfare of the\ +French, German, or English people, or, in its highest abstraction, the\ +welfare and civilization of humanity in general, by which is usually\ +meant that of the peoples occupying a small northwesterly portion of a\ +large continent.\ +\ +Modern history has rejected the beliefs of the ancients without\ +replacing them by a new conception, and the logic of the situation has\ +obliged the historians, after they had apparently rejected the divine\ +authority of the kings and the "fate" of the ancients, to reach the same\ +conclusion by another road, that is, to recognize (1) nations guided by\ +individual men, and (2) the existence of a known aim to which these\ +nations and humanity at large are tending.\ +\ +At the basis of the works of all the modern historians from Gibbon to\ +Buckle, despite their seeming disagreements and the apparent novelty of\ +their outlooks, lie those two old, unavoidable assumptions.\ +\ +In the first place the historian describes the activity of individuals\ +who in his opinion have directed humanity (one historian considers only\ +monarchs, generals, and ministers as being such men, while another\ +includes also orators, learned men, reformers, philosophers, and poets).\ +Secondly, it is assumed that the goal toward which humanity is being led\ +is known to the historians: to one of them this goal is the greatness of\ +the Roman, Spanish, or French realm; to another it is liberty, equality,\ +and a certain kind of civilization of a small corner of the world called\ +Europe.\ +\ +In 1789 a ferment arises in Paris; it grows, spreads, and is expressed\ +by a movement of peoples from west to east. Several times it moves\ +eastward and collides with a countermovement from the east westward. In\ +1812 it reaches its extreme limit, Moscow, and then, with remarkable\ +symmetry, a countermovement occurs from east to west, attracting to it,\ +as the first movement had done, the nations of middle Europe. The\ +counter movement reaches the starting point of the first movement in the\ +west--Paris--and subsides.\ +\ +During that twenty-year period an immense number of fields were left\ +untilled, houses were burned, trade changed its direction, millions of\ +men migrated, were impoverished, or were enriched, and millions of\ +Christian men professing the law of love of their fellows slew one\ +another.\ +\ +What does all this mean? Why did it happen? What made those people burn\ +houses and slay their fellow men? What were the causes of these events?\ +What force made men act so? These are the instinctive, plain, and most\ +legitimate questions humanity asks itself when it encounters the\ +monuments and tradition of that period.\ +\ +For a reply to these questions the common sense of mankind turns to the\ +science of history, whose aim is to enable nations and humanity to know\ +themselves.\ +\ +If history had retained the conception of the ancients it would have\ +said that God, to reward or punish his people, gave Napoleon power and\ +directed his will to the fulfillment of the divine ends, and that reply\ +would have been clear and complete. One might believe or disbelieve in\ +the divine significance of Napoleon, but for anyone believing in it\ +there would have been nothing unintelligible in the history of that\ +period, nor would there have been any contradictions.\ +\ +But modern history cannot give that reply. Science does not admit the\ +conception of the ancients as to the direct participation of the Deity\ +in human affairs, and therefore history ought to give other answers.\ +\ +Modern history replying to these questions says: you want to know what\ +this movement means, what caused it, and what force produced these\ +events? Then listen:\ +\ +"Louis XIV was a very proud and self-confident man; he had such and such\ +mistresses and such and such ministers and he ruled France badly. His\ +descendants were weak men and they too ruled France badly. And they had\ +such and such favorites and such and such mistresses. Moreover, certain\ +men wrote some books at that time. At the end of the eighteenth century\ +there were a couple of dozen men in Paris who began to talk about all\ +men being free and equal. This caused people all over France to begin to\ +slash at and drown one another. They killed the king and many other\ +people. At that time there was in France a man of genius--Napoleon. He\ +conquered everybody everywhere--that is, he killed many people because\ +he was a great genius. And for some reason he went to kill Africans, and\ +killed them so well and was so cunning and wise that when he returned to\ +France he ordered everybody to obey him, and they all obeyed him. Having\ +become an Emperor he again went out to kill people in Italy, Austria,\ +and Prussia. And there too he killed a great many. In Russia there was\ +an Emperor, Alexander, who decided to restore order in Europe and\ +therefore fought against Napoleon. In 1807 he suddenly made friends with\ +him, but in 1811 they again quarreled and again began killing many\ +people. Napoleon led six hundred thousand men into Russia and captured\ +Moscow; then he suddenly ran away from Moscow, and the Emperor\ +Alexander, helped by the advice of Stein and others, united Europe to\ +arm against the disturber of its peace. All Napoleon's allies suddenly\ +became his enemies and their forces advanced against the fresh forces he\ +raised. The Allies defeated Napoleon, entered Paris, forced Napoleon to\ +abdicate, and sent him to the island of Elba, not depriving him of the\ +title of Emperor and showing him every respect, though five years before\ +and one year later they all regarded him as an outlaw and a brigand.\ +Then Louis XVIII, who till then had been the laughingstock both of the\ +French and the Allies, began to reign. And Napoleon, shedding tears\ +before his Old Guards, renounced the throne and went into exile. Then\ +the skillful statesmen and diplomatists (especially Talleyrand, who\ +managed to sit down in a particular chair before anyone else and thereby\ +extended the frontiers of France) talked in Vienna and by these\ +conversations made the nations happy or unhappy. Suddenly the\ +diplomatists and monarchs nearly quarreled and were on the point of\ +again ordering their armies to kill one another, but just then Napoleon\ +arrived in France with a battalion, and the French, who had been hating\ +him, immediately all submitted to him. But the Allied monarchs were\ +angry at this and went to fight the French once more. And they defeated\ +the genius Napoleon and, suddenly recognizing him as a brigand, sent him\ +to the island of St. Helena. And the exile, separated from the beloved\ +France so dear to his heart, died a lingering death on that rock and\ +bequeathed his great deeds to posterity. But in Europe a reaction\ +occurred and the sovereigns once again all began to oppress their\ +subjects."\ +\ +It would be a mistake to think that this is ironic--a caricature of the\ +historical accounts. On the contrary it is a very mild expression of the\ +contradictory replies, not meeting the questions, which all the\ +historians give, from the compilers of memoirs and the histories of\ +separate states to the writers of general histories and the new\ +histories of the culture of that period.\ +\ +The strangeness and absurdity of these replies arise from the fact that\ +modern history, like a deaf man, answers questions no one has asked.\ +\ +If the purpose of history be to give a description of the movement of\ +humanity and of the peoples, the first question--in the absence of a\ +reply to which all the rest will be incomprehensible--is: what is the\ +power that moves peoples? To this, modern history laboriously replies\ +either that Napoleon was a great genius, or that Louis XIV was very\ +proud, or that certain writers wrote certain books.\ +\ +All that may be so and mankind is ready to agree with it, but it is not\ +what was asked. All that would be interesting if we recognized a divine\ +power based on itself and always consistently directing its nations\ +through Napoleons, Louis-es, and writers; but we do not acknowledge such\ +a power, and therefore before speaking about Napoleons, Louis-es, and\ +authors, we ought to be shown the connection existing between these men\ +and the movement of the nations.\ +\ +If instead of a divine power some other force has appeared, it should be\ +explained in what this new force consists, for the whole interest of\ +history lies precisely in that force.\ +\ +History seems to assume that this force is self-evident and known to\ +everyone. But in spite of every desire to regard it as known, anyone\ +reading many historical works cannot help doubting whether this new\ +force, so variously understood by the historians themselves, is really\ +quite well known to everybody.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER II\ +\ +What force moves the nations?\ +\ +Biographical historians and historians of separate nations understand\ +this force as a power inherent in heroes and rulers. In their narration\ +events occur solely by the will of a Napoleon, and Alexander, or in\ +general of the persons they describe. The answers given by this kind of\ +historian to the question of what force causes events to happen are\ +satisfactory only as long as there is but one historian to each event.\ +As soon as historians of different nationalities and tendencies begin to\ +describe the same event, the replies they give immediately lose all\ +meaning, for this force is understood by them all not only differently\ +but often in quite contradictory ways. One historian says that an event\ +was produced by Napoleon's power, another that it was produced by\ +Alexander's, a third that it was due to the power of some other person.\ +Besides this, historians of that kind contradict each other even in\ +their statement as to the force on which the authority of some\ +particular person was based. Thiers, a Bonapartist, says that Napoleon's\ +power was based on his virtue and genius. Lanfrey, a Republican, says it\ +was based on his trickery and deception of the people. So the historians\ +of this class, by mutually destroying one another's positions, destroy\ +the understanding of the force which produces events, and furnish no\ +reply to history's essential question.\ +\ +Writers of universal history who deal with all the nations seem to\ +recognize how erroneous is the specialist historians' view of the force\ +which produces events. They do not recognize it as a power inherent in\ +heroes and rulers, but as the resultant of a multiplicity of variously\ +directed forces. In describing a war or the subjugation of a people, a\ +general historian looks for the cause of the event not in the power of\ +one man, but in the interaction of many persons connected with the\ +event.\ +\ +According to this view the power of historical personages, represented\ +as the product of many forces, can no longer, it would seem, be regarded\ +as a force that itself produces events. Yet in most cases universal\ +historians still employ the conception of power as a force that itself\ +produces events, and treat it as their cause. In their exposition, an\ +historic character is first the product of his time, and his power only\ +the resultant of various forces, and then his power is itself a force\ +producing events. Gervinus, Schlosser, and others, for instance, at one\ +time prove Napoleon to be a product of the Revolution, of the ideas of\ +1789 and so forth, and at another plainly say that the campaign of 1812\ +and other things they do not like were simply the product of Napoleon's\ +misdirected will, and that the very ideas of 1789 were arrested in their\ +development by Napoleon's caprice. The ideas of the Revolution and the\ +general temper of the age produced Napoleon's power. But Napoleon's\ +power suppressed the ideas of the Revolution and the general temper of\ +the age.\ +\ +This curious contradiction is not accidental. Not only does it occur at\ +every step, but the universal historians' accounts are all made up of a\ +chain of such contradictions. This contradiction occurs because after\ +entering the field of analysis the universal historians stop halfway.\ +\ +To find component forces equal to the composite or resultant force, the\ +sum of the components must equal the resultant. This condition is never\ +observed by the universal historians, and so to explain the resultant\ +forces they are obliged to admit, in addition to the insufficient\ +components, another unexplained force affecting the resultant action.\ +\ +Specialist historians describing the campaign of 1813 or the restoration\ +of the Bourbons plainly assert that these events were produced by the\ +will of Alexander. But the universal historian Gervinus, refuting this\ +opinion of the specialist historian, tries to prove that the campaign of\ +1813 and the restoration of the Bourbons were due to other things beside\ +Alexander's will--such as the activity of Stein, Metternich, Madame de\ +Stael, Talleyrand, Fichte, Chateaubriand, and others. The historian\ +evidently decomposes Alexander's power into the components: Talleyrand,\ +Chateaubriand, and the rest--but the sum of the components, that is, the\ +interactions of Chateaubriand, Talleyrand, Madame de Stael, and the\ +others, evidently does not equal the resultant, namely the phenomenon of\ +millions of Frenchmen submitting to the Bourbons. That Chateaubriand,\ +Madame de Stael, and others spoke certain words to one another only\ +affected their mutual relations but does not account for the submission\ +of millions. And therefore to explain how from these relations of theirs\ +the submission of millions of people resulted--that is, how component\ +forces equal to one A gave a resultant equal to a thousand times A--the\ +historian is again obliged to fall back on power--the force he had\ +denied--and to recognize it as the resultant of the forces, that is, he\ +has to admit an unexplained force acting on the resultant. And that is\ +just what the universal historians do, and consequently they not only\ +contradict the specialist historians but contradict themselves.\ +\ +Peasants having no clear idea of the cause of rain, say, according to\ +whether they want rain or fine weather: "The wind has blown the clouds\ +away," or, "The wind has brought up the clouds." And in the same way the\ +universal historians sometimes, when it pleases them and fits in with\ +their theory, say that power is the result of events, and sometimes,\ +when they want to prove something else, say that power produces events.\ +\ +A third class of historians--the so-called historians of culture--\ +following the path laid down by the universal historians who sometimes\ +accept writers and ladies as forces producing events--again take that\ +force to be something quite different. They see it in what is called\ +culture--in mental activity.\ +\ +The historians of culture are quite consistent in regard to their\ +progenitors, the writers of universal histories, for if historical\ +events may be explained by the fact that certain persons treated one\ +another in such and such ways, why not explain them by the fact that\ +such and such people wrote such and such books? Of the immense number of\ +indications accompanying every vital phenomenon, these historians select\ +the indication of intellectual activity and say that this indication is\ +the cause. But despite their endeavors to prove that the cause of events\ +lies in intellectual activity, only by a great stretch can one admit\ +that there is any connection between intellectual activity and the\ +movement of peoples, and in no case can one admit that intellectual\ +activity controls people's actions, for that view is not confirmed by\ +such facts as the very cruel murders of the French Revolution resulting\ +from the doctrine of the equality of man, or the very cruel wars and\ +executions resulting from the preaching of love.\ +\ +But even admitting as correct all the cunningly devised arguments with\ +which these histories are filled--admitting that nations are governed by\ +some undefined force called an idea--history's essential question still\ +remains unanswered, and to the former power of monarchs and to the\ +influence of advisers and other people introduced by the universal\ +historians, another, newer force--the idea--is added, the connection of\ +which with the masses needs explanation. It is possible to understand\ +that Napoleon had power and so events occurred; with some effort one may\ +even conceive that Napoleon together with other influences was the cause\ +of an event; but how a book, Le Contrat Social, had the effect of making\ +Frenchmen begin to drown one another cannot be understood without an\ +explanation of the causal nexus of this new force with the event.\ +\ +Undoubtedly some relation exists between all who live contemporaneously,\ +and so it is possible to find some connection between the intellectual\ +activity of men and their historical movements, just as such a\ +connection may be found between the movements of humanity and commerce,\ +handicraft, gardening, or anything else you please. But why intellectual\ +activity is considered by the historians of culture to be the cause or\ +expression of the whole historical movement is hard to understand. Only\ +the following considerations can have led the historians to such a\ +conclusion: (1) that history is written by learned men, and so it is\ +natural and agreeable for them to think that the activity of their class\ +supplies the basis of the movement of all humanity, just as a similar\ +belief is natural and agreeable to traders, agriculturists, and soldiers\ +(if they do not express it, that is merely because traders and soldiers\ +do not write history), and (2) that spiritual activity, enlightenment,\ +civilization, culture, ideas, are all indistinct, indefinite conceptions\ +under whose banner it is very easy to use words having a still less\ +definite meaning, and which can therefore be readily introduced into any\ +theory.\ +\ +But not to speak of the intrinsic quality of histories of this kind\ +(which may possibly even be of use to someone for something) the\ +histories of culture, to which all general histories tend more and more\ +to approximate, are significant from the fact that after seriously and\ +minutely examining various religious, philosophic, and political\ +doctrines as causes of events, as soon as they have to describe an\ +actual historic event such as the campaign of 1812 for instance, they\ +involuntarily describe it as resulting from an exercise of power--and\ +say plainly that that was the result of Napoleon's will. Speaking so,\ +the historians of culture involuntarily contradict themselves, and show\ +that the new force they have devised does not account for what happens\ +in history, and that history can only be explained by introducing a\ +power which they apparently do not recognize.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER III\ +\ +A locomotive is moving. Someone asks: "What moves it?" A peasant says\ +the devil moves it. Another man says the locomotive moves because its\ +wheels go round. A third asserts that the cause of its movement lies in\ +the smoke which the wind carries away.\ +\ +The peasant is irrefutable. He has devised a complete explanation. To\ +refute him someone would have to prove to him that there is no devil, or\ +another peasant would have to explain to him that it is not the devil\ +but a German, who moves the locomotive. Only then, as a result of the\ +contradiction, will they see that they are both wrong. But the man who\ +says that the movement of the wheels is the cause refutes himself, for\ +having once begun to analyze he ought to go on and explain further why\ +the wheels go round; and till he has reached the ultimate cause of the\ +movement of the locomotive in the pressure of steam in the boiler, he\ +has no right to stop in his search for the cause. The man who explains\ +the movement of the locomotive by the smoke that is carried back has\ +noticed that the wheels do not supply an explanation and has taken the\ +first sign that occurs to him and in his turn has offered that as an\ +explanation.\ +\ +The only conception that can explain the movement of the locomotive is\ +that of a force commensurate with the movement observed.\ +\ +The only conception that can explain the movement of the peoples is that\ +of some force commensurate with the whole movement of the peoples.\ +\ +Yet to supply this conception various historians take forces of\ +different kinds, all of which are incommensurate with the movement\ +observed. Some see it as a force directly inherent in heroes, as the\ +peasant sees the devil in the locomotive; others as a force resulting\ +from several other forces, like the movement of the wheels; others again\ +as an intellectual influence, like the smoke that is blown away.\ +\ +So long as histories are written of separate individuals, whether\ +Caesars, Alexanders, Luthers, or Voltaires, and not the histories of\ +all, absolutely all those who take part in an event, it is quite\ +impossible to describe the movement of humanity without the conception\ +of a force compelling men to direct their activity toward a certain end.\ +And the only such conception known to historians is that of power.\ +\ +This conception is the one handle by means of which the material of\ +history, as at present expounded, can be dealt with, and anyone who\ +breaks that handle off, as Buckle did, without finding some other method\ +of treating historical material, merely deprives himself of the one\ +possible way of dealing with it. The necessity of the conception of\ +power as an explanation of historical events is best demonstrated by the\ +universal historians and historians of culture themselves, for they\ +professedly reject that conception but inevitably have recourse to it at\ +every step.\ +\ +In dealing with humanity's inquiry, the science of history up to now is\ +like money in circulation--paper money and coin. The biographies and\ +special national histories are like paper money. They can be used and\ +can circulate and fulfill their purpose without harm to anyone and even\ +advantageously, as long as no one asks what is the security behind them.\ +You need only forget to ask how the will of heroes produces events, and\ +such histories as Thiers' will be interesting and instructive and may\ +perhaps even possess a tinge of poetry. But just as doubts of the real\ +value of paper money arise either because, being easy to make, too much\ +of it gets made or because people try to exchange it for gold, so also\ +doubts concerning the real value of such histories arise either because\ +too many of them are written or because in his simplicity of heart\ +someone inquires: by what force did Napoleon do this?--that is, wants to\ +exchange the current paper money for the real gold of actual\ +comprehension.\ +\ +The writers of universal histories and of the history of culture are\ +like people who, recognizing the defects of paper money, decide to\ +substitute for it money made of metal that has not the specific gravity\ +of gold. It may indeed make jingling coin, but will do no more than\ +that. Paper money may deceive the ignorant, but nobody is deceived by\ +tokens of base metal that have no value but merely jingle. As gold is\ +gold only if it is serviceable not merely for exchange but also for use,\ +so universal historians will be valuable only when they can reply to\ +history's essential question: what is power? The universal historians\ +give contradictory replies to that question, while the historians of\ +culture evade it and answer something quite different. And as counters\ +of imitation gold can be used only among a group of people who agree to\ +accept them as gold, or among those who do not know the nature of gold,\ +so universal historians and historians of culture, not answering\ +humanity's essential question, serve as currency for some purposes of\ +their own, only in universities and among the mass of readers who have a\ +taste for what they call "serious reading."\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER IV\ +\ +Having abandoned the conception of the ancients as to the divine\ +subjection of the will of a nation to some chosen man and the subjection\ +of that man's will to the Deity, history cannot without contradictions\ +take a single step till it has chosen one of two things: either a return\ +to the former belief in the direct intervention of the Deity in human\ +affairs or a definite explanation of the meaning of the force producing\ +historical events and termed "power."\ +\ +A return to the first is impossible, the belief has been destroyed; and\ +so it is essential to explain what is meant by power.\ +\ +Napoleon ordered an army to be raised and go to war. We are so\ +accustomed to that idea and have become so used to it that the question:\ +why did six hundred thousand men go to fight when Napoleon uttered\ +certain words, seems to us senseless. He had the power and so what he\ +ordered was done.\ +\ +This reply is quite satisfactory if we believe that the power was given\ +him by God. But as soon as we do not admit that, it becomes essential to\ +determine what is this power of one man over others.\ +\ +It cannot be the direct physical power of a strong man over a weak one--\ +a domination based on the application or threat of physical force, like\ +the power of Hercules; nor can it be based on the effect of moral force,\ +as in their simplicity some historians think who say that the leading\ +figures in history are heroes, that is, men gifted with a special\ +strength of soul and mind called genius. This power cannot be based on\ +the predominance of moral strength, for, not to mention heroes such as\ +Napoleon about whose moral qualities opinions differ widely, history\ +shows us that neither a Louis XI nor a Metternich, who ruled over\ +millions of people, had any particular moral qualities, but on the\ +contrary were generally morally weaker than any of the millions they\ +ruled over.\ +\ +If the source of power lies neither in the physical nor in the moral\ +qualities of him who possesses it, it must evidently be looked for\ +elsewhere--in the relation to the people of the man who wields the\ +power.\ +\ +And that is how power is understood by the science of jurisprudence,\ +that exchange bank of history which offers to exchange history's\ +understanding of power for true gold.\ +\ +Power is the collective will of the people transferred, by expressed or\ +tacit consent, to their chosen rulers.\ +\ +In the domain of jurisprudence, which consists of discussions of how a\ +state and power might be arranged were it possible for all that to be\ +arranged, it is all very clear; but when applied to history that\ +definition of power needs explanation.\ +\ +The science of jurisprudence regards the state and power as the ancients\ +regarded fire--namely, as something existing absolutely. But for\ +history, the state and power are merely phenomena, just as for modern\ +physics fire is not an element but a phenomenon.\ +\ +From this fundamental difference between the view held by history and\ +that held by jurisprudence, it follows that jurisprudence can tell\ +minutely how in its opinion power should be constituted and what power--\ +existing immutably outside time--is, but to history's questions about\ +the meaning of the mutations of power in time it can answer nothing.\ +\ +If power be the collective will of the people transferred to their\ +ruler, was Pugachev a representative of the will of the people? If not,\ +then why was Napoleon I? Why was Napoleon III a criminal when he was\ +taken prisoner at Boulogne, and why, later on, were those criminals whom\ +he arrested?\ +\ +Do palace revolutions--in which sometimes only two or three people take\ +part--transfer the will of the people to a new ruler? In international\ +relations, is the will of the people also transferred to their\ +conqueror? Was the will of the Confederation of the Rhine transferred to\ +Napoleon in 1806? Was the will of the Russian people transferred to\ +Napoleon in 1809, when our army in alliance with the French went to\ +fight the Austrians?\ +\ +To these questions three answers are possible:\ +\ +Either to assume (1) that the will of the people is always\ +unconditionally transferred to the ruler or rulers they have chosen, and\ +that therefore every emergence of a new power, every struggle against\ +the power once appointed, should be absolutely regarded as an\ +infringement of the real power; or (2) that the will of the people is\ +transferred to the rulers conditionally, under definite and known\ +conditions, and to show that all limitations, conflicts, and even\ +destructions of power result from a nonobservance by the rulers of the\ +conditions under which their power was entrusted to them; or (3) that\ +the will of the people is delegated to the rulers conditionally, but\ +that the conditions are unknown and indefinite, and that the appearance\ +of several authorities, their struggles and their falls, result solely\ +from the greater or lesser fulfillment by the rulers of these unknown\ +conditions on which the will of the people is transferred from some\ +people to others.\ +\ +And these are the three ways in which the historians do explain the\ +relation of the people to their rulers.\ +\ +Some historians--those biographical and specialist historians already\ +referred to--in their simplicity failing to understand the question of\ +the meaning of power, seem to consider that the collective will of the\ +people is unconditionally transferred to historical persons, and\ +therefore when describing some single state they assume that particular\ +power to be the one absolute and real power, and that any other force\ +opposing this is not a power but a violation of power--mere violence.\ +\ +Their theory, suitable for primitive and peaceful periods of history,\ +has the inconvenience--in application to complex and stormy periods in\ +the life of nations during which various powers arise simultaneously and\ +struggle with one another--that a Legitimist historian will prove that\ +the National Convention, the Directory, and Bonaparte were mere\ +infringers of the true power, while a Republican and a Bonapartist will\ +prove: the one that the Convention and the other that the Empire was the\ +real power, and that all the others were violations of power. Evidently\ +the explanations furnished by these historians being mutually\ +contradictory can only satisfy young children.\ +\ +Recognizing the falsity of this view of history, another set of\ +historians say that power rests on a conditional delegation of the will\ +of the people to their rulers, and that historical leaders have power\ +only conditionally on carrying out the program that the will of the\ +people has by tacit agreement prescribed to them. But what this program\ +consists in these historians do not say, or if they do they continually\ +contradict one another.\ +\ +Each historian, according to his view of what constitutes a nation's\ +progress, looks for these conditions in the greatness, wealth, freedom,\ +or enlightenment of citizens of France or some other country. But not to\ +mention the historians' contradictions as to the nature of this program-\ +-or even admitting that some one general program of these conditions\ +exists--the facts of history almost always contradict that theory. If\ +the conditions under which power is entrusted consist in the wealth,\ +freedom, and enlightenment of the people, how is it that Louis XIV and\ +Ivan the Terrible end their reigns tranquilly, while Louis XVI and\ +Charles I are executed by their people? To this question historians\ +reply that Louis XIV's activity, contrary to the program, reacted on\ +Louis XVI. But why did it not react on Louis XIV or on Louis XV--why\ +should it react just on Louis XVI? And what is the time limit for such\ +reactions? To these questions there are and can be no answers. Equally\ +little does this view explain why for several centuries the collective\ +will is not withdrawn from certain rulers and their heirs, and then\ +suddenly during a period of fifty years is transferred to the\ +Convention, to the Directory, to Napoleon, to Alexander, to Louis XVIII,\ +to Napoleon again, to Charles X, to Louis Philippe, to a Republican\ +government, and to Napoleon III. When explaining these rapid transfers\ +of the people's will from one individual to another, especially in view\ +of international relations, conquests, and alliances, the historians are\ +obliged to admit that some of these transfers are not normal delegations\ +of the people's will but are accidents dependent on cunning, on\ +mistakes, on craft, or on the weakness of a diplomatist, a ruler, or a\ +party leader. So that the greater part of the events of history--civil\ +wars, revolutions, and conquests--are presented by these historians not\ +as the results of free transferences of the people's will, but as\ +results of the ill-directed will of one or more individuals, that is,\ +once again, as usurpations of power. And so these historians also see\ +and admit historical events which are exceptions to the theory.\ +\ +These historians resemble a botanist who, having noticed that some\ +plants grow from seeds producing two cotyledons, should insist that all\ +that grows does so by sprouting into two leaves, and that the palm, the\ +mushroom, and even the oak, which blossom into full growth and no longer\ +resemble two leaves, are deviations from the theory.\ +\ +Historians of the third class assume that the will of the people is\ +transferred to historic personages conditionally, but that the\ +conditions are unknown to us. They say that historical personages have\ +power only because they fulfill the will of the people which has been\ +delegated to them.\ +\ +But in that case, if the force that moves nations lies not in the\ +historic leaders but in the nations themselves, what significance have\ +those leaders?\ +\ +The leaders, these historians tell us, express the will of the people:\ +the activity of the leaders represents the activity of the people.\ +\ +But in that case the question arises whether all the activity of the\ +leaders serves as an expression of the people's will or only some part\ +of it. If the whole activity of the leaders serves as the expression of\ +the people's will, as some historians suppose, then all the details of\ +the court scandals contained in the biographies of a Napoleon or a\ +Catherine serve to express the life of the nation, which is evident\ +nonsense; but if it is only some particular side of the activity of an\ +historical leader which serves to express the people's life, as other\ +so-called "philosophical" historians believe, then to determine which\ +side of the activity of a leader expresses the nation's life, we have\ +first of all to know in what the nation's life consists.\ +\ +Met by this difficulty historians of that class devise some most\ +obscure, impalpable, and general abstraction which can cover all\ +conceivable occurrences, and declare this abstraction to be the aim of\ +humanity's movement. The most usual generalizations adopted by almost\ +all the historians are: freedom, equality, enlightenment, progress,\ +civilization, and culture. Postulating some generalization as the goal\ +of the movement of humanity, the historians study the men of whom the\ +greatest number of monuments have remained: kings, ministers, generals,\ +authors, reformers, popes, and journalists, to the extent to which in\ +their opinion these persons have promoted or hindered that abstraction.\ +But as it is in no way proved that the aim of humanity does consist in\ +freedom, equality, enlightenment, or civilization, and as the connection\ +of the people with the rulers and enlighteners of humanity is only based\ +on the arbitrary assumption that the collective will of the people is\ +always transferred to the men whom we have noticed, it happens that the\ +activity of the millions who migrate, burn houses, abandon agriculture,\ +and destroy one another never is expressed in the account of the\ +activity of some dozen people who did not burn houses, practice\ +agriculture, or slay their fellow creatures.\ +\ +History proves this at every turn. Is the ferment of the peoples of the\ +west at the end of the eighteenth century and their drive eastward\ +explained by the activity of Louis XIV, XV, and XVI, their mistresses\ +and ministers, and by the lives of Napoleon, Rousseau, Diderot,\ +Beaumarchais, and others?\ +\ +Is the movement of the Russian people eastward to Kazan and Siberia\ +expressed by details of the morbid character of Ivan the Terrible and by\ +his correspondence with Kurbski?\ +\ +Is the movement of the peoples at the time of the Crusades explained by\ +the life and activity of the Godfreys and the Louis-es and their ladies?\ +For us that movement of the peoples from west to east, without leaders,\ +with a crowd of vagrants, and with Peter the Hermit, remains\ +incomprehensible. And yet more incomprehensible is the cessation of that\ +movement when a rational and sacred aim for the Crusade--the deliverance\ +of Jerusalem--had been clearly defined by historic leaders. Popes,\ +kings, and knights incited the peoples to free the Holy Land; but the\ +people did not go, for the unknown cause which had previously impelled\ +them to go no longer existed. The history of the Godfreys and the\ +Minnesingers can evidently not cover the life of the peoples. And the\ +history of the Godfreys and the Minnesingers has remained the history of\ +Godfreys and Minnesingers, but the history of the life of the peoples\ +and their impulses has remained unknown.\ +\ +Still less does the history of authors and reformers explain to us the\ +life of the peoples.\ +\ +The history of culture explains to us the impulses and conditions of\ +life and thought of a writer or a reformer. We learn that Luther had a\ +hot temper and said such and such things; we learn that Rousseau was\ +suspicious and wrote such and such books; but we do not learn why after\ +the Reformation the peoples massacred one another, nor why during the\ +French Revolution they guillotined one another.\ +\ +If we unite both these kinds of history, as is done by the newest\ +historians, we shall have the history of monarchs and writers, but not\ +the history of the life of the peoples.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER V\ +\ +The life of the nations is not contained in the lives of a few men, for\ +the connection between those men and the nations has not been found. The\ +theory that this connection is based on the transference of the\ +collective will of a people to certain historical personages is an\ +hypothesis unconfirmed by the experience of history.\ +\ +The theory of the transference of the collective will of the people to\ +historic persons may perhaps explain much in the domain of jurisprudence\ +and be essential for its purposes, but in its application to history, as\ +soon as revolutions, conquests, or civil wars occur--that is, as soon as\ +history begins--that theory explains nothing.\ +\ +The theory seems irrefutable just because the act of transference of the\ +people's will cannot be verified, for it never occurred.\ +\ +Whatever happens and whoever may stand at the head of affairs, the\ +theory can always say that such and such a person took the lead because\ +the collective will was transferred to him.\ +\ +The replies this theory gives to historical questions are like the\ +replies of a man who, watching the movements of a herd of cattle and\ +paying no attention to the varying quality of the pasturage in different\ +parts of the field, or to the driving of the herdsman, should attribute\ +the direction the herd takes to what animal happens to be at its head.\ +\ +"The herd goes in that direction because the animal in front leads it\ +and the collective will of all the other animals is vested in that\ +leader." This is what historians of the first class say--those who\ +assume the unconditional transference of the people's will.\ +\ +"If the animals leading the herd change, this happens because the\ +collective will of all the animals is transferred from one leader to\ +another, according to whether the animal is or is not leading them in\ +the direction selected by the whole herd." Such is the reply historians\ +who assume that the collective will of the people is delegated to rulers\ +under conditions which they regard as known. (With this method of\ +observation it often happens that the observer, influenced by the\ +direction he himself prefers, regards those as leaders who, owing to the\ +people's change of direction, are no longer in front, but on one side,\ +or even in the rear.)\ +\ +"If the animals in front are continually changing and the direction of\ +the whole herd is constantly altered, this is because in order to follow\ +a given direction the animals transfer their will to the animals that\ +have attracted our attention, and to study the movements of the herd we\ +must watch the movements of all the prominent animals moving on all\ +sides of the herd." So say the third class of historians who regard all\ +historical persons, from monarchs to journalists, as the expression of\ +their age.\ +\ +The theory of the transference of the will of the people to historic\ +persons is merely a paraphrase--a restatement of the question in other\ +words.\ +\ +What causes historical events? Power. What is power? Power is the\ +collective will of the people transferred to one person. Under what\ +condition is the will of the people delegated to one person? On\ +condition that that person expresses the will of the whole people. That\ +is, power is power: in other words, power is a word the meaning of which\ +we do not understand.\ +\ +If the realm of human knowledge were confined to abstract reasoning,\ +then having subjected to criticism the explanation of "power" that\ +juridical science gives us, humanity would conclude that power is merely\ +a word and has no real existence. But to understand phenomena man has,\ +besides abstract reasoning, experience by which he verifies his\ +reflections. And experience tells us that power is not merely a word but\ +an actually existing phenomenon.\ +\ +Not to speak of the fact that no description of the collective activity\ +of men can do without the conception of power, the existence of power is\ +proved both by history and by observing contemporary events.\ +\ +Whenever an event occurs a man appears or men appear, by whose will the\ +event seems to have taken place. Napoleon III issues a decree and the\ +French go to Mexico. The King of Prussia and Bismarck issue decrees and\ +an army enters Bohemia. Napoleon I issues a decree and an army enters\ +Russia. Alexander I gives a command and the French submit to the\ +Bourbons. Experience shows us that whatever event occurs it is always\ +related to the will of one or of several men who have decreed it.\ +\ +The historians, in accord with the old habit of acknowledging divine\ +intervention in human affairs, want to see the cause of events in the\ +expression of the will of someone endowed with power, but that\ +supposition is not confirmed either by reason or by experience.\ +\ +On the one side reflection shows that the expression of a man's will--\ +his words--are only part of the general activity expressed in an event,\ +as for instance in a war or a revolution, and so without assuming an\ +incomprehensible, supernatural force--a miracle--one cannot admit that\ +words can be the immediate cause of the movements of millions of men. On\ +the other hand, even if we admitted that words could be the cause of\ +events, history shows that the expression of the will of historical\ +personages does not in most cases produce any effect, that is to say,\ +their commands are often not executed, and sometimes the very opposite\ +of what they order occurs.\ +\ +Without admitting divine intervention in the affairs of humanity we\ +cannot regard "power" as the cause of events.\ +\ +Power, from the standpoint of experience, is merely the relation that\ +exists between the expression of someone's will and the execution of\ +that will by others.\ +\ +To explain the conditions of that relationship we must first establish a\ +conception of the expression of will, referring it to man and not to the\ +Deity.\ +\ +If the Deity issues a command, expresses His will, as ancient history\ +tells us, the expression of that will is independent of time and is not\ +caused by anything, for the Divinity is not controlled by an event. But\ +speaking of commands that are the expression of the will of men acting\ +in time and in relation to one another, to explain the connection of\ +commands with events we must restore: (1) the condition of all that\ +takes place: the continuity of movement in time both of the events and\ +of the person who commands, and (2) the inevitability of the connection\ +between the person commanding and those who execute his command.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER VI\ +\ +Only the expression of the will of the Deity, not dependent on time, can\ +relate to a whole series of events occurring over a period of years or\ +centuries, and only the Deity, independent of everything, can by His\ +sole will determine the direction of humanity's movement; but man acts\ +in time and himself takes part in what occurs.\ +\ +Reinstating the first condition omitted, that of time, we see that no\ +command can be executed without some preceding order having been given\ +rendering the execution of the last command possible.\ +\ +No command ever appears spontaneously, or itself covers a whole series\ +of occurrences; but each command follows from another, and never refers\ +to a whole series of events but always to one moment only of an event.\ +\ +When, for instance, we say that Napoleon ordered armies to go to war, we\ +combine in one simultaneous expression a whole series of consecutive\ +commands dependent one on another. Napoleon could not have commanded an\ +invasion of Russia and never did so. Today he ordered such and such\ +papers to be written to Vienna, to Berlin, and to Petersburg; tomorrow\ +such and such decrees and orders to the army, the fleet, the\ +commissariat, and so on and so on--millions of commands, which formed a\ +whole series corresponding to a series of events which brought the\ +French armies into Russia.\ +\ +If throughout his reign Napoleon gave commands concerning an invasion of\ +England and expended on no other undertaking so much time and effort,\ +and yet during his whole reign never once attempted to execute that\ +design but undertook an expedition into Russia, with which country he\ +considered it desirable to be in alliance (a conviction he repeatedly\ +expressed)--this came about because his commands did not correspond to\ +the course of events in the first case, but did so correspond in the\ +latter.\ +\ +For an order to be certainly executed, it is necessary that a man should\ +order what can be executed. But to know what can and what cannot be\ +executed is impossible, not only in the case of Napoleon's invasion of\ +Russia in which millions participated, but even in the simplest event,\ +for in either case millions of obstacles may arise to prevent its\ +execution. Every order executed is always one of an immense number\ +unexecuted. All the impossible orders inconsistent with the course of\ +events remain unexecuted. Only the possible ones get linked up with a\ +consecutive series of commands corresponding to a series of events, and\ +are executed.\ +\ +Our false conception that an event is caused by a command which precedes\ +it is due to the fact that when the event has taken place and out of\ +thousands of others those few commands which were consistent with that\ +event have been executed, we forget about the others that were not\ +executed because they could not be. Apart from that, the chief source of\ +our error in this matter is due to the fact that in the historical\ +accounts a whole series of innumerable, diverse, and petty events, such\ +for instance as all those which led the French armies to Russia, is\ +generalized into one event in accord with the result produced by that\ +series of events, and corresponding with this generalization the whole\ +series of commands is also generalized into a single expression of will.\ +\ +We say that Napoleon wished to invade Russia and invaded it. In reality\ +in all Napoleon's activity we never find anything resembling an\ +expression of that wish, but find a series of orders, or expressions of\ +his will, very variously and indefinitely directed. Amid a long series\ +of unexecuted orders of Napoleon's one series, for the campaign of 1812,\ +was carried out--not because those orders differed in any way from the\ +other, unexecuted orders but because they coincided with the course of\ +events that led the French army into Russia; just as in stencil work\ +this or that figure comes out not because the color was laid on from\ +this side or in that way, but because it was laid on from all sides over\ +the figure cut in the stencil.\ +\ +So that examining the relation in time of the commands to the events, we\ +find that a command can never be the cause of the event, but that a\ +certain definite dependence exists between the two.\ +\ +To understand in what this dependence consists it is necessary to\ +reinstate another omitted condition of every command proceeding not from\ +the Deity but from a man, which is, that the man who gives the command\ +himself takes part in the event.\ +\ +This relation of the commander to those he commands is just what is\ +called power. This relation consists in the following:\ +\ +For common action people always unite in certain combinations, in which\ +regardless of the difference of the aims set for the common action, the\ +relation between those taking part in it is always the same.\ +\ +Men uniting in these combinations always assume such relations toward\ +one another that the larger number take a more direct share, and the\ +smaller number a less direct share, in the collective action for which\ +they have combined.\ +\ +Of all the combinations in which men unite for collective action one of\ +the most striking and definite examples is an army.\ +\ +Every army is composed of lower grades of the service--the rank and\ +file--of whom there are always the greatest number; of the next higher\ +military rank--corporals and noncommissioned officers of whom there are\ +fewer, and of still-higher officers of whom there are still fewer, and\ +so on to the highest military command which is concentrated in one\ +person.\ +\ +A military organization may be quite correctly compared to a cone, of\ +which the base with the largest diameter consists of the rank and file;\ +the next higher and smaller section of the cone consists of the next\ +higher grades of the army, and so on to the apex, the point of which\ +will represent the commander-in-chief.\ +\ +The soldiers, of whom there are the most, form the lower section of the\ +cone and its base. The soldier himself does the stabbing, hacking,\ +burning, and pillaging, and always receives orders for these actions\ +from men above him; he himself never gives an order. The noncommissioned\ +officers (of whom there are fewer) perform the action itself less\ +frequently than the soldiers, but they already give commands. An officer\ +still less often acts directly himself, but commands still more\ +frequently. A general does nothing but command the troops, indicates the\ +objective, and hardly ever uses a weapon himself. The commander-in-chief\ +never takes direct part in the action itself, but only gives general\ +orders concerning the movement of the mass of the troops. A similar\ +relation of people to one another is seen in every combination of men\ +for common activity--in agriculture, trade, and every administration.\ +\ +And so without particularly analyzing all the contiguous sections of a\ +cone and of the ranks of an army, or the ranks and positions in any\ +administrative or public business whatever from the lowest to the\ +highest, we see a law by which men, to take associated action, combine\ +in such relations that the more directly they participate in performing\ +the action the less they can command and the more numerous they are,\ +while the less their direct participation in the action itself, the more\ +they command and the fewer of them there are; rising in this way from\ +the lowest ranks to the man at the top, who takes the least direct share\ +in the action and directs his activity chiefly to commanding.\ +\ +This relation of the men who command to those they command is what\ +constitutes the essence of the conception called power.\ +\ +Having restored the condition of time under which all events occur, we\ +find that a command is executed only when it is related to a\ +corresponding series of events. Restoring the essential condition of\ +relation between those who command and those who execute, we find that\ +by the very nature of the case those who command take the smallest part\ +in the action itself and that their activity is exclusively directed to\ +commanding.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER VII\ +\ +When an event is taking place people express their opinions and wishes\ +about it, and as the event results from the collective activity of many\ +people, some one of the opinions or wishes expressed is sure to be\ +fulfilled if but approximately. When one of the opinions expressed is\ +fulfilled, that opinion gets connected with the event as a command\ +preceding it.\ +\ +Men are hauling a log. Each of them expresses his opinion as to how and\ +where to haul it. They haul the log away, and it happens that this is\ +done as one of them said. He ordered it. There we have command and power\ +in their primary form. The man who worked most with his hands could not\ +think so much about what he was doing, or reflect on or command what\ +would result from the common activity; while the man who commanded more\ +would evidently work less with his hands on account of his greater\ +verbal activity.\ +\ +When some larger concourse of men direct their activity to a common aim\ +there is a yet sharper division of those who, because their activity is\ +given to directing and commanding, take less part in the direct work.\ +\ +When a man works alone he always has a certain set of reflections which\ +as it seems to him directed his past activity, justify his present\ +activity, and guide him in planning his future actions. Just the same is\ +done by a concourse of people, allowing those who do not take a direct\ +part in the activity to devise considerations, justifications, and\ +surmises concerning their collective activity.\ +\ +For reasons known or unknown to us the French began to drown and kill\ +one another. And corresponding to the event its justification appears in\ +people's belief that this was necessary for the welfare of France, for\ +liberty, and for equality. People ceased to kill one another, and this\ +event was accompanied by its justification in the necessity for a\ +centralization of power, resistance to Europe, and so on. Men went from\ +the west to the east killing their fellow men, and the event was\ +accompanied by phrases about the glory of France, the baseness of\ +England, and so on. History shows us that these justifications of the\ +events have no common sense and are all contradictory, as in the case of\ +killing a man as the result of recognizing his rights, and the killing\ +of millions in Russia for the humiliation of England. But these\ +justifications have a very necessary significance in their own day.\ +\ +These justifications release those who produce the events from moral\ +responsibility. These temporary aims are like the broom fixed in front\ +of a locomotive to clear the snow from the rails in front: they clear\ +men's moral responsibilities from their path.\ +\ +Without such justification there would be no reply to the simplest\ +question that presents itself when examining each historical event. How\ +is it that millions of men commit collective crimes--make war, commit\ +murder, and so on?\ +\ +With the present complex forms of political and social life in Europe\ +can any event that is not prescribed, decreed, or ordered by monarchs,\ +ministers, parliaments, or newspapers be imagined? Is there any\ +collective action which cannot find its justification in political\ +unity, in patriotism, in the balance of power, or in civilization? So\ +that every event that occurs inevitably coincides with some expressed\ +wish and, receiving a justification, presents itself as the result of\ +the will of one man or of several men.\ +\ +In whatever direction a ship moves, the flow of the waves it cuts will\ +always be noticeable ahead of it. To those on board the ship the\ +movement of those waves will be the only perceptible motion.\ +\ +Only by watching closely moment by moment the movement of that flow and\ +comparing it with the movement of the ship do we convince ourselves that\ +every bit of it is occasioned by the forward movement of the ship, and\ +that we were led into error by the fact that we ourselves were\ +imperceptibly moving.\ +\ +We see the same if we watch moment by moment the movement of historical\ +characters (that is, re-establish the inevitable condition of all that\ +occurs--the continuity of movement in time) and do not lose sight of the\ +essential connection of historical persons with the masses.\ +\ +When the ship moves in one direction there is one and the same wave\ +ahead of it, when it turns frequently the wave ahead of it also turns\ +frequently. But wherever it may turn there always will be the wave\ +anticipating its movement.\ +\ +Whatever happens it always appears that just that event was foreseen and\ +decreed. Wherever the ship may go, the rush of water which neither\ +directs nor increases its movement foams ahead of it, and at a distance\ +seems to us not merely to move of itself but to govern the ship's\ +movement also.\ +\ +Examining only those expressions of the will of historical persons\ +which, as commands, were related to events, historians have assumed that\ +the events depended on those commands. But examining the events\ +themselves and the connection in which the historical persons stood to\ +the people, we have found that they and their orders were dependent on\ +events. The incontestable proof of this deduction is that, however many\ +commands were issued, the event does not take place unless there are\ +other causes for it, but as soon as an event occurs--be it what it may--\ +then out of all the continually expressed wishes of different people\ +some will always be found which by their meaning and their time of\ +utterance are related as commands to the events.\ +\ +Arriving at this conclusion we can reply directly and positively to\ +these two essential questions of history:\ +\ +(1) What is power?\ +\ +(2) What force produces the movement of the nations?\ +\ +(1) Power is the relation of a given person to other individuals, in\ +which the more this person expresses opinions, predictions, and\ +justifications of the collective action that is performed, the less is\ +his participation in that action.\ +\ +(2) The movement of nations is caused not by power, nor by intellectual\ +activity, nor even by a combination of the two as historians have\ +supposed, but by the activity of all the people who participate in the\ +events, and who always combine in such a way that those taking the\ +largest direct share in the event take on themselves the least\ +responsibility and vice versa.\ +\ +Morally the wielder of power appears to cause the event; physically it\ +is those who submit to the power. But as the moral activity is\ +inconceivable without the physical, the cause of the event is neither in\ +the one nor in the other but in the union of the two.\ +\ +Or in other words, the conception of a cause is inapplicable to the\ +phenomena we are examining.\ +\ +In the last analysis we reach the circle of infinity--that final limit\ +to which in every domain of thought man's reason arrives if it is not\ +playing with the subject. Electricity produces heat, heat produces\ +electricity. Atoms attract each other and atoms repel one another.\ +\ +Speaking of the interaction of heat and electricity and of atoms, we\ +cannot say why this occurs, and we say that it is so because it is\ +inconceivable otherwise, because it must be so and that it is a law. The\ +same applies to historical events. Why war and revolution occur we do\ +not know. We only know that to produce the one or the other action,\ +people combine in a certain formation in which they all take part, and\ +we say that this is so because it is unthinkable otherwise, or in other\ +words that it is a law.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER VIII\ +\ +If history dealt only with external phenomena, the establishment of this\ +simple and obvious law would suffice and we should have finished our\ +argument. But the law of history relates to man. A particle of matter\ +cannot tell us that it does not feel the law of attraction or repulsion\ +and that that law is untrue, but man, who is the subject of history,\ +says plainly: I am free and am therefore not subject to the law.\ +\ +The presence of the problem of man's free will, though unexpressed, is\ +felt at every step of history.\ +\ +All seriously thinking historians have involuntarily encountered this\ +question. All the contradictions and obscurities of history and the\ +false path historical science has followed are due solely to the lack of\ +a solution of that question.\ +\ +If the will of every man were free, that is, if each man could act as he\ +pleased, all history would be a series of disconnected incidents.\ +\ +If in a thousand years even one man in a million could act freely, that\ +is, as he chose, it is evident that one single free act of that man's in\ +violation of the laws governing human action would destroy the\ +possibility of the existence of any laws for the whole of humanity.\ +\ +If there be a single law governing the actions of men, free will cannot\ +exist, for then man's will is subject to that law.\ +\ +In this contradiction lies the problem of free will, which from most\ +ancient times has occupied the best human minds and from most ancient\ +times has been presented in its whole tremendous significance.\ +\ +The problem is that regarding man as a subject of observation from\ +whatever point of view--theological, historical, ethical, or\ +philosophic--we find a general law of necessity to which he (like all\ +that exists) is subject. But regarding him from within ourselves as what\ +we are conscious of, we feel ourselves to be free.\ +\ +This consciousness is a source of self-cognition quite apart from and\ +independent of reason. Through his reason man observes himself, but only\ +through consciousness does he know himself.\ +\ +Apart from consciousness of self no observation or application of reason\ +is conceivable.\ +\ +To understand, observe, and draw conclusions, man must first of all be\ +conscious of himself as living. A man is only conscious of himself as a\ +living being by the fact that he wills, that is, is conscious of his\ +volition. But his will--which forms the essence of his life--man\ +recognizes (and can but recognize) as free.\ +\ +If, observing himself, man sees that his will is always directed by one\ +and the same law (whether he observes the necessity of taking food,\ +using his brain, or anything else) he cannot recognize this never-\ +varying direction of his will otherwise than as a limitation of it. Were\ +it not free it could not be limited. A man's will seems to him to be\ +limited just because he is not conscious of it except as free.\ +\ +You say: I am not free. But I have lifted my hand and let it fall.\ +Everyone understands that this illogical reply is an irrefutable\ +demonstration of freedom.\ +\ +That reply is the expression of a consciousness that is not subject to\ +reason.\ +\ +If the consciousness of freedom were not a separate and independent\ +source of self-consciousness it would be subject to reasoning and to\ +experience, but in fact such subjection does not exist and is\ +inconceivable.\ +\ +A series of experiments and arguments proves to every man that he, as an\ +object of observation, is subject to certain laws, and man submits to\ +them and never resists the laws of gravity or impermeability once he has\ +become acquainted with them. But the same series of experiments and\ +arguments proves to him that the complete freedom of which he is\ +conscious in himself is impossible, and that his every action depends on\ +his organization, his character, and the motives acting upon him; yet\ +man never submits to the deductions of these experiments and arguments.\ +Having learned from experiment and argument that a stone falls\ +downwards, a man indubitably believes this and always expects the law\ +that he has learned to be fulfilled.\ +\ +But learning just as certainly that his will is subject to laws, he does\ +not and cannot believe this.\ +\ +However often experiment and reasoning may show a man that under the\ +same conditions and with the same character he will do the same thing as\ +before, yet when under the same conditions and with the same character\ +he approaches for the thousandth time the action that always ends in the\ +same way, he feels as certainly convinced as before the experiment that\ +he can act as he pleases. Every man, savage or sage, however\ +incontestably reason and experiment may prove to him that it is\ +impossible to imagine two different courses of action in precisely the\ +same conditions, feels that without this irrational conception (which\ +constitutes the essence of freedom) he cannot imagine life. He feels\ +that however impossible it may be, it is so, for without this conception\ +of freedom not only would he be unable to understand life, but he would\ +be unable to live for a single moment.\ +\ +He could not live, because all man's efforts, all his impulses to life,\ +are only efforts to increase freedom. Wealth and poverty, fame and\ +obscurity, power and subordination, strength and weakness, health and\ +disease, culture and ignorance, work and leisure, repletion and hunger,\ +virtue and vice, are only greater or lesser degrees of freedom.\ +\ +A man having no freedom cannot be conceived of except as deprived of\ +life.\ +\ +If the conception of freedom appears to reason to be a senseless\ +contradiction like the possibility of performing two actions at one and\ +the same instant of time, or of an effect without a cause, that only\ +proves that consciousness is not subject to reason.\ +\ +This unshakable, irrefutable consciousness of freedom, uncontrolled by\ +experiment or argument, recognized by all thinkers and felt by everyone\ +without exception, this consciousness without which no conception of man\ +is possible constitutes the other side of the question.\ +\ +Man is the creation of an all-powerful, all-good, and all-seeing God.\ +What is sin, the conception of which arises from the consciousness of\ +man's freedom? That is a question for theology.\ +\ +The actions of men are subject to general immutable laws expressed in\ +statistics. What is man's responsibility to society, the conception of\ +which results from the conception of freedom? That is a question for\ +jurisprudence.\ +\ +Man's actions proceed from his innate character and the motives acting\ +upon him. What is conscience and the perception of right and wrong in\ +actions that follows from the consciousness of freedom? That is a\ +question for ethics.\ +\ +Man in connection with the general life of humanity appears subject to\ +laws which determine that life. But the same man apart from that\ +connection appears to be free. How should the past life of nations and\ +of humanity be regarded--as the result of the free, or as the result of\ +the constrained, activity of man? That is a question for history.\ +\ +Only in our self-confident day of the popularization of knowledge--\ +thanks to that most powerful engine of ignorance, the diffusion of\ +printed matter--has the question of the freedom of will been put on a\ +level on which the question itself cannot exist. In our time the\ +majority of so-called advanced people--that is, the crowd of\ +ignoramuses--have taken the work of the naturalists who deal with one\ +side of the question for a solution of the whole problem.\ +\ +They say and write and print that the soul and freedom do not exist, for\ +the life of man is expressed by muscular movements and muscular\ +movements are conditioned by the activity of the nerves; the soul and\ +free will do not exist because at an unknown period of time we sprang\ +from the apes. They say this, not at all suspecting that thousands of\ +years ago that same law of necessity which with such ardor they are now\ +trying to prove by physiology and comparative zoology was not merely\ +acknowledged by all the religions and all the thinkers, but has never\ +been denied. They do not see that the role of the natural sciences in\ +this matter is merely to serve as an instrument for the illumination of\ +one side of it. For the fact that, from the point of view of\ +observation, reason and the will are merely secretions of the brain, and\ +that man following the general law may have developed from lower animals\ +at some unknown period of time, only explains from a fresh side the\ +truth admitted thousands of years ago by all the religious and\ +philosophic theories--that from the point of view of reason man is\ +subject to the law of necessity; but it does not advance by a hair's\ +breadth the solution of the question, which has another, opposite, side,\ +based on the consciousness of freedom.\ +\ +If men descended from the apes at an unknown period of time, that is as\ +comprehensible as that they were made from a handful of earth at a\ +certain period of time (in the first case the unknown quantity is the\ +time, in the second case it is the origin); and the question of how\ +man's consciousness of freedom is to be reconciled with the law of\ +necessity to which he is subject cannot be solved by comparative\ +physiology and zoology, for in a frog, a rabbit, or an ape, we can\ +observe only the muscular nervous activity, but in man we observe\ +consciousness as well as the muscular and nervous activity.\ +\ +The naturalists and their followers, thinking they can solve this\ +question, are like plasterers set to plaster one side of the walls of a\ +church who, availing themselves of the absence of the chief\ +superintendent of the work, should in an access of zeal plaster over the\ +windows, icons, woodwork, and still unbuttressed walls, and should be\ +delighted that from their point of view as plasterers, everything is now\ +so smooth and regular.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER IX\ +\ +For the solution of the question of free will or inevitability, history\ +has this advantage over other branches of knowledge in which the\ +question is dealt with, that for history this question does not refer to\ +the essence of man's free will but its manifestation in the past and\ +under certain conditions.\ +\ +In regard to this question, history stands to the other sciences as\ +experimental science stands to abstract science.\ +\ +The subject for history is not man's will itself but our presentation of\ +it.\ +\ +And so for history, the insoluble mystery presented by the\ +incompatibility of free will and inevitability does not exist as it does\ +for theology, ethics, and philosophy. History surveys a presentation of\ +man's life in which the union of these two contradictions has already\ +taken place.\ +\ +In actual life each historic event, each human action, is very clearly\ +and definitely understood without any sense of contradiction, although\ +each event presents itself as partly free and partly compulsory.\ +\ +To solve the question of how freedom and necessity are combined and what\ +constitutes the essence of these two conceptions, the philosophy of\ +history can and should follow a path contrary to that taken by other\ +sciences. Instead of first defining the conceptions of freedom and\ +inevitability in themselves, and then ranging the phenomena of life\ +under those definitions, history should deduce a definition of the\ +conception of freedom and inevitability themselves from the immense\ +quantity of phenomena of which it is cognizant and that always appear\ +dependent on these two elements.\ +\ +Whatever presentation of the activity of many men or of an individual we\ +may consider, we always regard it as the result partly of man's free\ +will and partly of the law of inevitability.\ +\ +Whether we speak of the migration of the peoples and the incursions of\ +the barbarians, or of the decrees of Napoleon III, or of someone's\ +action an hour ago in choosing one direction out of several for his\ +walk, we are unconscious of any contradiction. The degree of freedom and\ +inevitability governing the actions of these people is clearly defined\ +for us.\ +\ +Our conception of the degree of freedom often varies according to\ +differences in the point of view from which we regard the event, but\ +every human action appears to us as a certain combination of freedom and\ +inevitability. In every action we examine we see a certain measure of\ +freedom and a certain measure of inevitability. And always the more\ +freedom we see in any action the less inevitability do we perceive, and\ +the more inevitability the less freedom.\ +\ +The proportion of freedom to inevitability decreases and increases\ +according to the point of view from which the action is regarded, but\ +their relation is always one of inverse proportion.\ +\ +A sinking man who clutches at another and drowns him; or a hungry mother\ +exhausted by feeding her baby, who steals some food; or a man trained to\ +discipline who on duty at the word of command kills a defenseless man--\ +seem less guilty, that is, less free and more subject to the law of\ +necessity, to one who knows the circumstances in which these people were\ +placed, and more free to one who does not know that the man was himself\ +drowning, that the mother was hungry, that the soldier was in the ranks,\ +and so on. Similarly a man who committed a murder twenty years ago and\ +has since lived peaceably and harmlessly in society seems less guilty\ +and his action more due to the law of inevitability, to someone who\ +considers his action after twenty years have elapsed than to one who\ +examined it the day after it was committed. And in the same way every\ +action of an insane, intoxicated, or highly excited man appears less\ +free and more inevitable to one who knows the mental condition of him\ +who committed the action, and seems more free and less inevitable to one\ +who does not know it. In all these cases the conception of freedom is\ +increased or diminished and the conception of compulsion is\ +correspondingly decreased or increased, according to the point of view\ +from which the action is regarded. So that the greater the conception of\ +necessity the smaller the conception of freedom and vice versa.\ +\ +Religion, the common sense of mankind, the science of jurisprudence, and\ +history itself understand alike this relation between necessity and\ +freedom.\ +\ +All cases without exception in which our conception of freedom and\ +necessity is increased and diminished depend on three considerations:\ +\ +(1) The relation to the external world of the man who commits the deeds.\ +\ +(2) His relation to time.\ +\ +(3) His relation to the causes leading to the action.\ +\ +The first consideration is the clearness of our perception of the man's\ +relation to the external world and the greater or lesser clearness of\ +our understanding of the definite position occupied by the man in\ +relation to everything coexisting with him. This is what makes it\ +evident that a drowning man is less free and more subject to necessity\ +than one standing on dry ground, and that makes the actions of a man\ +closely connected with others in a thickly populated district, or of one\ +bound by family, official, or business duties, seem certainly less free\ +and more subject to necessity than those of a man living in solitude and\ +seclusion.\ +\ +If we consider a man alone, apart from his relation to everything around\ +him, each action of his seems to us free. But if we see his relation to\ +anything around him, if we see his connection with anything whatever--\ +with a man who speaks to him, a book he reads, the work on which he is\ +engaged, even with the air he breathes or the light that falls on the\ +things about him--we see that each of these circumstances has an\ +influence on him and controls at least some side of his activity. And\ +the more we perceive of these influences the more our conception of his\ +freedom diminishes and the more our conception of the necessity that\ +weighs on him increases.\ +\ +The second consideration is the more or less evident time relation of\ +the man to the world and the clearness of our perception of the place\ +the man's action occupies in time. That is the ground which makes the\ +fall of the first man, resulting in the production of the human race,\ +appear evidently less free than a man's entry into marriage today. It is\ +the reason why the life and activity of people who lived centuries ago\ +and are connected with me in time cannot seem to me as free as the life\ +of a contemporary, the consequences of which are still unknown to me.\ +\ +The degree of our conception of freedom or inevitability depends in this\ +respect on the greater or lesser lapse of time between the performance\ +of the action and our judgment of it.\ +\ +If I examine an act I performed a moment ago in approximately the same\ +circumstances as those I am in now, my action appears to me undoubtedly\ +free. But if I examine an act performed a month ago, then being in\ +different circumstances, I cannot help recognizing that if that act had\ +not been committed much that resulted from it--good, agreeable, and even\ +essential--would not have taken place. If I reflect on an action still\ +more remote, ten years ago or more, then the consequences of my action\ +are still plainer to me and I find it hard to imagine what would have\ +happened had that action not been performed. The farther I go back in\ +memory, or what is the same thing the farther I go forward in my\ +judgment, the more doubtful becomes my belief in the freedom of my\ +action.\ +\ +In history we find a very similar progress of conviction concerning the\ +part played by free will in the general affairs of humanity. A\ +contemporary event seems to us to be indubitably the doing of all the\ +known participants, but with a more remote event we already see its\ +inevitable results which prevent our considering anything else possible.\ +And the farther we go back in examining events the less arbitrary do\ +they appear.\ +\ +The Austro-Prussian war appears to us undoubtedly the result of the\ +crafty conduct of Bismarck, and so on. The Napoleonic wars still seem to\ +us, though already questionably, to be the outcome of their heroes'\ +will. But in the Crusades we already see an event occupying its definite\ +place in history and without which we cannot imagine the modern history\ +of Europe, though to the chroniclers of the Crusades that event appeared\ +as merely due to the will of certain people. In regard to the migration\ +of the peoples it does not enter anyone's head today to suppose that the\ +renovation of the European world depended on Attila's caprice. The\ +farther back in history the object of our observation lies, the more\ +doubtful does the free will of those concerned in the event become and\ +the more manifest the law of inevitability.\ +\ +The third consideration is the degree to which we apprehend that endless\ +chain of causation inevitably demanded by reason, in which each\ +phenomenon comprehended, and therefore man's every action, must have its\ +definite place as a result of what has gone before and as a cause of\ +what will follow.\ +\ +The better we are acquainted with the physiological, psychological, and\ +historical laws deduced by observation and by which man is controlled,\ +and the more correctly we perceive the physiological, psychological, and\ +historical causes of the action, and the simpler the action we are\ +observing and the less complex the character and mind of the man in\ +question, the more subject to inevitability and the less free do our\ +actions and those of others appear.\ +\ +When we do not at all understand the cause of an action, whether a\ +crime, a good action, or even one that is simply nonmoral, we ascribe a\ +greater amount of freedom to it. In the case of a crime we most urgently\ +demand the punishment for such an act; in the case of a virtuous act we\ +rate its merit most highly. In an indifferent case we recognize in it\ +more individuality, originality, and independence. But if even one of\ +the innumerable causes of the act is known to us we recognize a certain\ +element of necessity and are less insistent on punishment for the crime,\ +or the acknowledgment of the merit of the virtuous act, or the freedom\ +of the apparently original action. That a criminal was reared among male\ +factors mitigates his fault in our eyes. The self-sacrifice of a father\ +or mother, or self-sacrifice with the possibility of a reward, is more\ +comprehensible than gratuitous self-sacrifice, and therefore seems less\ +deserving of sympathy and less the result of free will. The founder of a\ +sect or party, or an inventor, impresses us less when we know how or by\ +what the way was prepared for his activity. If we have a large range of\ +examples, if our observation is constantly directed to seeking the\ +correlation of cause and effect in people's actions, their actions\ +appear to us more under compulsion and less free the more correctly we\ +connect the effects with the causes. If we examined simple actions and\ +had a vast number of such actions under observation, our conception of\ +their inevitability would be still greater. The dishonest conduct of the\ +son of a dishonest father, the misconduct of a woman who had fallen into\ +bad company, a drunkard's relapse into drunkenness, and so on are\ +actions that seem to us less free the better we understand their cause.\ +If the man whose actions we are considering is on a very low stage of\ +mental development, like a child, a madman, or a simpleton--then,\ +knowing the causes of the act and the simplicity of the character and\ +intelligence in question, we see so large an element of necessity and so\ +little free will that as soon as we know the cause prompting the action\ +we can foretell the result.\ +\ +On these three considerations alone is based the conception of\ +irresponsibility for crimes and the extenuating circumstances admitted\ +by all legislative codes. The responsibility appears greater or less\ +according to our greater or lesser knowledge of the circumstances in\ +which the man was placed whose action is being judged, and according to\ +the greater or lesser interval of time between the commission of the\ +action and its investigation, and according to the greater or lesser\ +understanding of the causes that led to the action.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER X\ +\ +Thus our conception of free will and inevitability gradually diminishes\ +or increases according to the greater or lesser connection with the\ +external world, the greater or lesser remoteness of time, and the\ +greater or lesser dependence on the causes in relation to which we\ +contemplate a man's life.\ +\ +So that if we examine the case of a man whose connection with the\ +external world is well known, where the time between the action and its\ +examination is great, and where the causes of the action are most\ +accessible, we get the conception of a maximum of inevitability and a\ +minimum of free will. If we examine a man little dependent on external\ +conditions, whose action was performed very recently, and the causes of\ +whose action are beyond our ken, we get the conception of a minimum of\ +inevitability and a maximum of freedom.\ +\ +In neither case--however we may change our point of view, however plain\ +we may make to ourselves the connection between the man and the external\ +world, however inaccessible it may be to us, however long or short the\ +period of time, however intelligible or incomprehensible the causes of\ +the action may be--can we ever conceive either complete freedom or\ +complete necessity.\ +\ +(1) To whatever degree we may imagine a man to be exempt from the\ +influence of the external world, we never get a conception of freedom in\ +space. Every human action is inevitably conditioned by what surrounds\ +him and by his own body. I lift my arm and let it fall. My action seems\ +to me free; but asking myself whether I could raise my arm in every\ +direction, I see that I raised it in the direction in which there was\ +least obstruction to that action either from things around me or from\ +the construction of my own body. I chose one out of all the possible\ +directions because in it there were fewest obstacles. For my action to\ +be free it was necessary that it should encounter no obstacles. To\ +conceive of a man being free we must imagine him outside space, which is\ +evidently impossible.\ +\ +(2) However much we approximate the time of judgment to the time of the\ +deed, we never get a conception of freedom in time. For if I examine an\ +action committed a second ago I must still recognize it as not being\ +free, for it is irrevocably linked to the moment at which it was\ +committed. Can I lift my arm? I lift it, but ask myself: could I have\ +abstained from lifting my arm at the moment that has already passed? To\ +convince myself of this I do not lift it the next moment. But I am not\ +now abstaining from doing so at the first moment when I asked the\ +question. Time has gone by which I could not detain, the arm I then\ +lifted is no longer the same as the arm I now refrain from lifting, nor\ +is the air in which I lifted it the same that now surrounds me. The\ +moment in which the first movement was made is irrevocable, and at that\ +moment I could make only one movement, and whatever movement I made\ +would be the only one. That I did not lift my arm a moment later does\ +not prove that I could have abstained from lifting it then. And since I\ +could make only one movement at that single moment of time, it could not\ +have been any other. To imagine it as free, it is necessary to imagine\ +it in the present, on the boundary between the past and the future--that\ +is, outside time, which is impossible.\ +\ +(3) However much the difficulty of understanding the causes may be\ +increased, we never reach a conception of complete freedom, that is, an\ +absence of cause. However inaccessible to us may be the cause of the\ +expression of will in any action, our own or another's, the first demand\ +of reason is the assumption of and search for a cause, for without a\ +cause no phenomenon is conceivable. I raise my arm to perform an action\ +independently of any cause, but my wish to perform an action without a\ +cause is the cause of my action.\ +\ +But even if--imagining a man quite exempt from all influences, examining\ +only his momentary action in the present, unevoked by any cause--we were\ +to admit so infinitely small a remainder of inevitability as equaled\ +zero, we should even then not have arrived at the conception of complete\ +freedom in man, for a being uninfluenced by the external world, standing\ +outside of time and independent of cause, is no longer a man.\ +\ +In the same way we can never imagine the action of a man quite devoid of\ +freedom and entirely subject to the law of inevitability.\ +\ +(1) However we may increase our knowledge of the conditions of space in\ +which man is situated, that knowledge can never be complete, for the\ +number of those conditions is as infinite as the infinity of space. And\ +therefore so long as not all the conditions influencing men are defined,\ +there is no complete inevitability but a certain measure of freedom\ +remains.\ +\ +(2) However we may prolong the period of time between the action we are\ +examining and the judgment upon it, that period will be finite, while\ +time is infinite, and so in this respect too there can never be absolute\ +inevitability.\ +\ +(3) However accessible may be the chain of causation of any action, we\ +shall never know the whole chain since it is endless, and so again we\ +never reach absolute inevitability.\ +\ +But besides this, even if, admitting the remaining minimum of freedom to\ +equal zero, we assumed in some given case--as for instance in that of a\ +dying man, an unborn babe, or an idiot--complete absence of freedom, by\ +so doing we should destroy the very conception of man in the case we are\ +examining, for as soon as there is no freedom there is also no man. And\ +so the conception of the action of a man subject solely to the law of\ +inevitability without any element of freedom is just as impossible as\ +the conception of a man's completely free action.\ +\ +And so to imagine the action of a man entirely subject to the law of\ +inevitability without any freedom, we must assume the knowledge of an\ +infinite number of space relations, an infinitely long period of time,\ +and an infinite series of causes.\ +\ +To imagine a man perfectly free and not subject to the law of\ +inevitability, we must imagine him all alone, beyond space, beyond time,\ +and free from dependence on cause.\ +\ +In the first case, if inevitability were possible without freedom we\ +should have reached a definition of inevitability by the laws of\ +inevitability itself, that is, a mere form without content.\ +\ +In the second case, if freedom were possible without inevitability we\ +should have arrived at unconditioned freedom beyond space, time, and\ +cause, which by the fact of its being unconditioned and unlimited would\ +be nothing, or mere content without form.\ +\ +We should in fact have reached those two fundamentals of which man's\ +whole outlook on the universe is constructed--the incomprehensible\ +essence of life, and the laws defining that essence.\ +\ +Reason says: (1) space with all the forms of matter that give it\ +visibility is infinite, and cannot be imagined otherwise. (2) Time is\ +infinite motion without a moment of rest and is unthinkable otherwise.\ +(3) The connection between cause and effect has no beginning and can\ +have no end.\ +\ +Consciousness says: (1) I alone am, and all that exists is but me,\ +consequently I include space. (2) I measure flowing time by the fixed\ +moment of the present in which alone I am conscious of myself as living,\ +consequently I am outside time. (3) I am beyond cause, for I feel myself\ +to be the cause of every manifestation of my life.\ +\ +Reason gives expression to the laws of inevitability. Consciousness\ +gives expression to the essence of freedom.\ +\ +Freedom not limited by anything is the essence of life, in man's\ +consciousness. Inevitability without content is man's reason in its\ +three forms.\ +\ +Freedom is the thing examined. Inevitability is what examines. Freedom\ +is the content. Inevitability is the form.\ +\ +Only by separating the two sources of cognition, related to one another\ +as form to content, do we get the mutually exclusive and separately\ +incomprehensible conceptions of freedom and inevitability.\ +\ +Only by uniting them do we get a clear conception of man's life.\ +\ +Apart from these two concepts which in their union mutually define one\ +another as form and content, no conception of life is possible.\ +\ +All that we know of the life of man is merely a certain relation of free\ +will to inevitability, that is, of consciousness to the laws of reason.\ +\ +All that we know of the external world of nature is only a certain\ +relation of the forces of nature to inevitability, or of the essence of\ +life to the laws of reason.\ +\ +The great natural forces lie outside us and we are not conscious of\ +them; we call those forces gravitation, inertia, electricity, animal\ +force, and so on, but we are conscious of the force of life in man and\ +we call that freedom.\ +\ +But just as the force of gravitation, incomprehensible in itself but\ +felt by every man, is understood by us only to the extent to which we\ +know the laws of inevitability to which it is subject (from the first\ +knowledge that all bodies have weight, up to Newton's law), so too the\ +force of free will, incomprehensible in itself but of which everyone is\ +conscious, is intelligible to us only in as far as we know the laws of\ +inevitability to which it is subject (from the fact that every man dies,\ +up to the knowledge of the most complex economic and historic laws).\ +\ +All knowledge is merely a bringing of this essence of life under the\ +laws of reason.\ +\ +Man's free will differs from every other force in that man is directly\ +conscious of it, but in the eyes of reason it in no way differs from any\ +other force. The forces of gravitation, electricity, or chemical\ +affinity are only distinguished from one another in that they are\ +differently defined by reason. Just so the force of man's free will is\ +distinguished by reason from the other forces of nature only by the\ +definition reason gives it. Freedom, apart from necessity, that is,\ +apart from the laws of reason that define it, differs in no way from\ +gravitation, or heat, or the force that makes things grow; for reason,\ +it is only a momentary undefinable sensation of life.\ +\ +And as the undefinable essence of the force moving the heavenly bodies,\ +the undefinable essence of the forces of heat and electricity, or of\ +chemical affinity, or of the vital force, forms the content of\ +astronomy, physics, chemistry, botany, zoology, and so on, just in the\ +same way does the force of free will form the content of history. But\ +just as the subject of every science is the manifestation of this\ +unknown essence of life while that essence itself can only be the\ +subject of metaphysics, even the manifestation of the force of free will\ +in human beings in space, in time, and in dependence on cause forms the\ +subject of history, while free will itself is the subject of\ +metaphysics.\ +\ +In the experimental sciences what we know we call the laws of\ +inevitability, what is unknown to us we call vital force. Vital force is\ +only an expression for the unknown remainder over and above what we know\ +of the essence of life.\ +\ +So also in history what is known to us we call laws of inevitability,\ +what is unknown we call free will. Free will is for history only an\ +expression for the unknown remainder of what we know about the laws of\ +human life.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XI\ +\ +History examines the manifestations of man's free will in connection\ +with the external world in time and in dependence on cause, that is, it\ +defines this freedom by the laws of reason, and so history is a science\ +only in so far as this free will is defined by those laws.\ +\ +The recognition of man's free will as something capable of influencing\ +historical events, that is, as not subject to laws, is the same for\ +history as the recognition of a free force moving the heavenly bodies\ +would be for astronomy.\ +\ +That assumption would destroy the possibility of the existence of laws,\ +that is, of any science whatever. If there is even a single body moving\ +freely, then the laws of Kepler and Newton are negatived and no\ +conception of the movement of the heavenly bodies any longer exists. If\ +any single action is due to free will, then not a single historical law\ +can exist, nor any conception of historical events.\ +\ +For history, lines exist of the movement of human wills, one end of\ +which is hidden in the unknown but at the other end of which a\ +consciousness of man's will in the present moves in space, time, and\ +dependence on cause.\ +\ +The more this field of motion spreads out before our eyes, the more\ +evident are the laws of that movement. To discover and define those laws\ +is the problem of history.\ +\ +From the standpoint from which the science of history now regards its\ +subject on the path it now follows, seeking the causes of events in\ +man's freewill, a scientific enunciation of those laws is impossible,\ +for however man's free will may be restricted, as soon as we recognize\ +it as a force not subject to law, the existence of law becomes\ +impossible.\ +\ +Only by reducing this element of free will to the infinitesimal, that\ +is, by regarding it as an infinitely small quantity, can we convince\ +ourselves of the absolute inaccessibility of the causes, and then\ +instead of seeking causes, history will take the discovery of laws as\ +its problem.\ +\ +The search for these laws has long been begun and the new methods of\ +thought which history must adopt are being worked out simultaneously\ +with the self-destruction toward which--ever dissecting and dissecting\ +the causes of phenomena--the old method of history is moving.\ +\ +All human sciences have traveled along that path. Arriving at\ +infinitesimals, mathematics, the most exact of sciences, abandons the\ +process of analysis and enters on the new process of the integration of\ +unknown, infinitely small, quantities. Abandoning the conception of\ +cause, mathematics seeks law, that is, the property common to all\ +unknown, infinitely small, elements.\ +\ +In another form but along the same path of reflection the other sciences\ +have proceeded. When Newton enunciated the law of gravity he did not say\ +that the sun or the earth had a property of attraction; he said that all\ +bodies from the largest to the smallest have the property of attracting\ +one another, that is, leaving aside the question of the cause of the\ +movement of the bodies, he expressed the property common to all bodies\ +from the infinitely large to the infinitely small. The same is done by\ +the natural sciences: leaving aside the question of cause, they seek for\ +laws. History stands on the same path. And if history has for its object\ +the study of the movement of the nations and of humanity and not the\ +narration of episodes in the lives of individuals, it too, setting aside\ +the conception of cause, should seek the laws common to all the\ +inseparably interconnected infinitesimal elements of free will.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +CHAPTER XII\ +\ +From the time the law of Copernicus was discovered and proved, the mere\ +recognition of the fact that it was not the sun but the earth that moves\ +sufficed to destroy the whole cosmography of the ancients. By disproving\ +that law it might have been possible to retain the old conception of the\ +movements of the bodies, but without disproving it, it would seem\ +impossible to continue studying the Ptolemaic worlds. But even after the\ +discovery of the law of Copernicus the Ptolemaic worlds were still\ +studied for a long time.\ +\ +From the time the first person said and proved that the number of births\ +or of crimes is subject to mathematical laws, and that this or that mode\ +of government is determined by certain geographical and economic\ +conditions, and that certain relations of population to soil produce\ +migrations of peoples, the foundations on which history had been built\ +were destroyed in their essence.\ +\ +By refuting these new laws the former view of history might have been\ +retained; but without refuting them it would seem impossible to continue\ +studying historic events as the results of man's free will. For if a\ +certain mode of government was established or certain migrations of\ +peoples took place in consequence of such and such geographic,\ +ethnographic, or economic conditions, then the free will of those\ +individuals who appear to us to have established that mode of government\ +or occasioned the migrations can no longer be regarded as the cause.\ +\ +And yet the former history continues to be studied side by side with the\ +laws of statistics, geography, political economy, comparative philology,\ +and geology, which directly contradict its assumptions.\ +\ +The struggle between the old views and the new was long and stubbornly\ +fought out in physical philosophy. Theology stood on guard for the old\ +views and accused the new of violating revelation. But when truth\ +conquered, theology established itself just as firmly on the new\ +foundation.\ +\ +Just as prolonged and stubborn is the struggle now proceeding between\ +the old and the new conception of history, and theology in the same way\ +stands on guard for the old view, and accuses the new view of subverting\ +revelation.\ +\ +In the one case as in the other, on both sides the struggle provokes\ +passion and stifles truth. On the one hand there is fear and regret for\ +the loss of the whole edifice constructed through the ages, on the other\ +is the passion for destruction.\ +\ +To the men who fought against the rising truths of physical philosophy,\ +it seemed that if they admitted that truth it would destroy faith in\ +God, in the creation of the firmament, and in the miracle of Joshua the\ +son of Nun. To the defenders of the laws of Copernicus and Newton, to\ +Voltaire for example, it seemed that the laws of astronomy destroyed\ +religion, and he utilized the law of gravitation as a weapon against\ +religion.\ +\ +Just so it now seems as if we have only to admit the law of\ +inevitability, to destroy the conception of the soul, of good and evil,\ +and all the institutions of state and church that have been built up on\ +those conceptions.\ +\ +So too, like Voltaire in his time, uninvited defenders of the law of\ +inevitability today use that law as a weapon against religion, though\ +the law of inevitability in history, like the law of Copernicus in\ +astronomy, far from destroying, even strengthens the foundation on which\ +the institutions of state and church are erected.\ +\ +As in the question of astronomy then, so in the question of history now,\ +the whole difference of opinion is based on the recognition or\ +nonrecognition of something absolute, serving as the measure of visible\ +phenomena. In astronomy it was the immovability of the earth, in history\ +it is the independence of personality--free will.\ +\ +As with astronomy the difficulty of recognizing the motion of the earth\ +lay in abandoning the immediate sensation of the earth's fixity and of\ +the motion of the planets, so in history the difficulty of recognizing\ +the subjection of personality to the laws of space, time, and cause lies\ +in renouncing the direct feeling of the independence of one's own\ +personality. But as in astronomy the new view said: "It is true that we\ +do not feel the movement of the earth, but by admitting its immobility\ +we arrive at absurdity, while by admitting its motion (which we do not\ +feel) we arrive at laws," so also in history the new view says: "It is\ +true that we are not conscious of our dependence, but by admitting our\ +free will we arrive at absurdity, while by admitting our dependence on\ +the external world, on time, and on cause, we arrive at laws."\ +\ +In the first case it was necessary to renounce the consciousness of an\ +unreal immobility in space and to recognize a motion we did not feel; in\ +the present case it is similarly necessary to renounce a freedom that\ +does not exist, and to recognize a dependence of which we are not\ +conscious.\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +\ +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of War and Peace, by Leo Tolstoy\ +\ +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WAR AND PEACE ***\ +\ +***** This file should be named 2600-8.txt or 2600-8.zip ***** This and\ +all associated files of various formats will be found in:\ +http://www.gutenberg.org/2/6/0/2600/\ +\ +An Anonymous Volunteer, and David Widger\ +\ +\ +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will be\ +renamed.\ +\ +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no one\ +owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation (and\ +you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without permission\ +and without paying copyright royalties. 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Thus, we do not necessarily keep eBooks\ +in compliance with any particular paper edition.\ +\ +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility:\ +\ +http://www.gutenberg.org\ +\ +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, including\ +how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive\ +Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to subscribe to\ +our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.\ +} \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/word_frequency.py b/word_frequency.py index e134136..8244766 100644 --- a/word_frequency.py +++ b/word_frequency.py @@ -3,7 +3,19 @@ os.system("clear") # import collections # Google search -with open('sample.txt', ) as temp_file: +# adding user input to select file to analyze +print("What file would you like to choose?") +print("\n") +print("Here is a list of your choices:") +print("------------") +print("sample.txt") +print("the_young_explorer.rtf") +print("phil_the_fiddler.rtf") +print("war_and_peace.rtf") +print("------------") +file_to_analyze = input("Which do you choose?") + +with open(file_to_analyze, ) as temp_file: text_to_analyze = temp_file.read() # got help on the \s from Soren text_to_analyze = re.sub(r'[^A-Za-z\s]', "", text_to_analyze.lower()) From f3ef621556c710859b052398ed193b825b251728 Mon Sep 17 00:00:00 2001 From: Jeff Hacker Date: Sun, 31 May 2015 20:23:05 -0400 Subject: [PATCH 13/16] Added an 'ignore list' and some formatting --- .DS_Store | Bin 6148 -> 6148 bytes word_frequency.py | 30 ++++++++++++++++++++++++------ 2 files changed, 24 insertions(+), 6 deletions(-) diff --git a/.DS_Store b/.DS_Store index b0ed6bdd7948d697be1d8e23ab20eee9e23ee479..ee808936aa404767487b3583e017f9573d9470c2 100644 GIT binary patch delta 193 zcmZoMXfc=|#>B!ku~2NHo+2a1#(>?7i$5?kF>*}iVX|g*V_;y=nC!!(J9#aWz~oLQ zWhTa;$?KTB*cfksW&SbQg4N8J?7(a*2ojqC#Ek#{14#x3iOGG;@|u|p=?r-c`3yx2 zsSJ7y1q_v*Ir+&+Ir&LI6#_tf28cnrcqX?oJ97s?dEEd1Z+^)9m~k^Z2R{eUfk4i8 X=E?jbjvR~(3`{^p44WfF)-VGAsFp2+ delta 134 zcmZoMXfc=|#>B)qu~2NHo+2ar#(>?7jO>$nSgcvS7#J89P4;2YWptZd#bPwMf< Date: Sun, 31 May 2015 21:49:08 -0400 Subject: [PATCH 14/16] git issues --- word_frequency.py | 2 +- 1 file changed, 1 insertion(+), 1 deletion(-) diff --git a/word_frequency.py b/word_frequency.py index 28a4b92..82a3438 100644 --- a/word_frequency.py +++ b/word_frequency.py @@ -4,7 +4,7 @@ # import collections # Google search # adding user input to select file to analyze -print("What file would you like to choose?") +print("What file would you like to do a word count on? Choose one!") print("\n") print("Here is a list of your choices:") print("------------") From 307e1ef2fce7c409df32eac481d8ea45d263f922 Mon Sep 17 00:00:00 2001 From: Jeff Hacker Date: Tue, 2 Jun 2015 14:45:27 -0400 Subject: [PATCH 15/16] Joel made some tweaks for me --- .DS_Store | Bin 6148 -> 6148 bytes word_frequency.py | 12 +++++++++--- 2 files changed, 9 insertions(+), 3 deletions(-) diff --git a/.DS_Store b/.DS_Store index ee808936aa404767487b3583e017f9573d9470c2..2076fcf293c618644d0c41ed6fa5d90c237044aa 100644 GIT binary patch delta 68 zcmZoMXfc=|#>B)qu~2NHo+2ar#(>?7jO?3vSQ;5O-(}Te+Sm}lw3(fQp9837vmnQJ W=E?jbjvNd?z{tSBvN=Lz4Kn~;X%FZC delta 116 zcmZoMXfc=|#>B!ku~2NHo+2a1#(>?7i$5?kF>-9?VQOS#l$hMdEU%f#kj{|Dkk3%W zkjkLPP{2^>nUkNKl#`#tz`!5?#Akqb1`zXXZeuoN+RV Date: Mon, 20 Jul 2015 22:58:22 -0400 Subject: [PATCH 16/16] uncommitted change --- word_frequency.py | 2 +- 1 file changed, 1 insertion(+), 1 deletion(-) diff --git a/word_frequency.py b/word_frequency.py index 8273343..67fe179 100644 --- a/word_frequency.py +++ b/word_frequency.py @@ -43,7 +43,7 @@ def word_frequency(list_to_analyze): 'will', 'with', 'would', 'yet', 'you', 'your') for word in list_to_analyze: # class work - if wordin ignore_list: + if word in ignore_list: pass else: if word in histogram: