summaryrefslogtreecommitdiffstats
path: root/data/samples/minimal/war_and_peace.leo_tolstoy.sst
diff options
context:
space:
mode:
Diffstat (limited to 'data/samples/minimal/war_and_peace.leo_tolstoy.sst')
-rw-r--r--data/samples/minimal/war_and_peace.leo_tolstoy.sst64867
1 files changed, 64867 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/data/samples/minimal/war_and_peace.leo_tolstoy.sst b/data/samples/minimal/war_and_peace.leo_tolstoy.sst
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..a305ce0
--- /dev/null
+++ b/data/samples/minimal/war_and_peace.leo_tolstoy.sst
@@ -0,0 +1,64867 @@
+% SiSU 0.72
+
+@title: War and Peace
+
+@creator:
+ :author: Tolstoy, Leo
+ :translator: Maude, Aylmer; Maude, Louise Shanks
+
+@classify:
+ :type: Book
+ :topic_register: SiSU:markup sample:book;book:novel:historical romance|war novel;Russian:original text;original text language:Russian
+ :pg: 2600
+
+% @rights:
+
+@date:
+ :published: 1869
+ :created: 1865
+ :issued: 1865
+ :available: 1865
+ :modified: 1869
+ :added_to_site: 2004-04-12
+
+% @date.translated:
+
+% @language:
+% :document: English
+% :original: Russian
+
+@vocabulary: none
+
+@make:
+ :headings: none; BOOK|FIRST|SECOND; none; CHAPTER;
+ :breaks: new=:C; break=1
+
+@links: { Wikipedia entry }http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/War_and_peace
+{ War and Peace @ SiSU }http://www.jus.uio.no/sisu/war.and.peace.leo.tolstoy
+
+% SiSU: http://www.jus.uio.no/sisu
+% SiSU markup for 0.16 and later
+% SiSU markup: http://www.jus.uio.no/sisu/sample
+% Output: http://www.jus.uio.no/sisu/war_and_peace.leo_tolstoy
+
+:A~ @title @creator
+
+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 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 wigh 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 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 them 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 tearworn 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 dutched 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-by! 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, 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-by!"
+
+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 never 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 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 know 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 tete-a-tete 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-by, 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
+at 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 dearly 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.~^ Suvorov now- he knew
+what he was about; yet they beat him a plate couture,~^ and where
+are we to find Suvorovs now? Je vous demande un peu,"~^ said he,
+continually changing from French to Russian.
+
+^~ Do you know the proverb?
+
+^~ That suits us down to the ground.
+
+^~ Hollow.
+
+^~ 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:
+
+_1 At nighttime in the moon's fair glow<br>
+How sweet, as fancies wander free,<br>
+To feel that in this world there's one<br>
+Who still is thinking but of thee!
+
+_1 That while her fingers touch the harp<br>
+Wafting sweet music music the lea,<br>
+It is for thee thus swells her heart,<br>
+Sighing its message out to thee...
+
+_1 A day or two, then bliss unspoilt,<br>
+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 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 princees 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 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 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 ante chamber 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 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 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 retailing 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
+generall"
+
+"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 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 it must be for her, poor thing, after what she has been used to,
+to be parted from her husband and be left alone 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-decamp 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 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-by."
+
+"Good health..."
+
+_1 "It's a long, long way.<br>
+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 rein comme cet
+individu dont vous avez fait un ami, mais pas pour vous, pas pour
+vous.~^ 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!"
+
+^~ "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!"~^ said he, quoting words often repeated by
+the German landlord.
+
+^~ "Busy already?"
+
+^~ "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 ctied
+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 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 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 wishing
+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 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 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 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 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 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 tete-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 tete-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!"~^ 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.
+
+^~ 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 pock-marked, 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, 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 case 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 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 away 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 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-by, my dear fellow," said Tushin. "Dear soul! Good-by, 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 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 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 immpossible 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 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 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 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 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! Blackgaurds!...
+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: "Blackgaurds!... 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 prettyface 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 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 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 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 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
+drown 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 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 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 sontnya
+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 Kutiizov'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 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?... K