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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 |