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I 


HARVARD 
COLLEGE 
LIBRARY 


WAE  A^^D  PEACE 


BY 


COUNT  LYOF  N.   TOLSTOI 


FROM  THE  RUSSIAN  BY 

NATHAN    HASKELL  DOLE 


AUTHORIZED   TRANSLATION 


IN  FOUR  VOLUMES 


VOL.    I 


NEW  YORK 
THOMAS   Y.   CROWELL   &    CO. 

13  AsTOR  Place 


('< 


HARVARD 

UNIVERSITY 

LIBRARY 


Copyright,  1889,  by 
T.   Y.   Crow  ELL   &  Co. 


^\  \' 


\    '   f 


Electrotype D  by 
C.  J.  Pktkrs  &  Son,  Boston. 


v\ 


PREFACE. 


Amokg  the  multitude  of  books  wMch  have  been  published 
during  the  present  century,  but  comparatively  few  have  at- 
tained a  permanent  place  in  literature  or  made  an  enduring 
impression  upon  the  readers  of  our  times. 

It  has  been  one  of  the  intellectual  occupations  or  amuse- 
ments of  the  last  few  years,  to  make  up  lists  of  the  ten  great 
books,  or  the  hundred  great  books,  of  the  world.  When  it 
comes  to  selecting  novels  to  fit  such  a  classification,  we  have 
to  pass  beyond  the  limits  of  the  English  speaking  race. 

Few  critics  would  contest  the  right  of  the  two  masterpieces 
of  Count  Tolstoi's  pen  to  hold  a  place  on  such  a  list.  Says 
Colonel  Thomas  Wentworth  Higginson :  "  I  should  agree  "with 
Mr.  Howells  in  placing  Tolstoi,  with  all  his  faults,  at  the 
head  of  living  novelists."  Archdeacon  Farrar  says :  "  If 
Count  Tolstoi's  books  have  appeared  in  edition  after  edition, 
and  translation  after  translation,  the  reason  is  because  the 
world  leams  from  him  to  see  life  as  it  is."  And  a5i  enthu- 
siastic writer  in  a  recent  number  of  the  Westminster  Review 
says,  "Here  is  one  of  the  great  masters,  before  whom  ordinary 
merit  must  be  dumb,  whom  to  criticise  is  vain,  to  /idmire  alone 
is  permitted."  ' 

Multitudes  of  similar  encomiums  might  be  9^  ected ;  but  it 
would  be  a  work  of  supererogation.  The  world  J  f  readers  has 
hailed  Count  Tolstoi  with  no  uncertain  homagrf.  and  it  would 
not  be  hazardous  to  prophesy  the  permanent  place  of  "  Anna 
Karenina  "  and  "  War  and  Peace  "  m  the  Pantheon  of  letters. 

"  War  and  Peace  "  is  a  panoramic  novel :  it  is  its  own  justi- 
fication, and  perhaps  needs,  lio  introduction.  The  author  had 
intended  to  write  a  uoveMix  which  the  characters  should  be,  to 
a  certain  extent,  su^vi'ng  members  of  the  famous  December 
conspiracy  of  1836,  returning  to  the  emancipated  Russia  of 
1856.  This  novel,  entitled  the  "  Dekabrists,"  he  began,  but  his 
mind  was  irresistibly  drawn  back  to  the  conspiracy  itself,  and 
finally  to  the  first  causes  of  the  conspiracy,  which  lay  in  the 
fateful  epoch  of  the  first  quarter  of  tnis  century  Thus  origi- 
nated "War  and  Peace." 

lU 


iv  PREFACE. 

It  always  reminds  the  translator  of  a  broad  and  mighty  river 
flowing  onward  with  all  the  majesty  of  Fate.  On  its  surface, 
.  float  swiftly  by  logs  and  stumps,  cakes  of  ice,  perhaps  drowned 
cattle  or  men  from  regions  far  above.  But  these  floating 
straws,  insignificant  in  themselves,  tell  the  current.  Once 
embark  upon  it,  and  it  is  impossible  to  escape  the  onward 
force  that  moves  you  so  relentlessly.  What  landscapes  you 
pass  through,  what  populous  towns,  what  gruesome  defiles, 
what  rapids,  what  cataracts !  . 

The  water  may  be  turbid,  or  it  may  flow  translucent  and 
pure,  —  but  still  it  rushes  on. 

Such  to  me  is  "War  and  Peace."  The  little  details  which 
cause  admiration  in  the  votaries  of  realism,  or  raise  a  sneer  in 
its  critics,  seem  to  have  in  this  their  explanation  and  warrant. 
Nevertheless,  I  am  inclined  to  rank  Count  Tolsto!  not  among 
the  realists  or  naturalists,  but  rather  as  an  impressionist.  He 
is  often  careless  about  accuracy.  Numberless  incongruities 
can  be  pointed  out.  He  is  as  willing  to  adopt  an  anachron- 
ism as  a  mediaeval  painter.  I  would  defy  an  historian 
to  reconstruct  the  battle  of  Austerlitz  from  Count  Tolstoi's 
description.  And  yet  what  picture  of  a  battle  was  ever  more 
^xjivid!  It  is  like  a  painting  where  the  general  impression  is 
true,  but  a  close  analysis  discovers  nothing  but  contradictory 
lines  V 

Whai  a  succession  —  a  kaleidoscopic  succession  of  life-views, 
he  gives  in  **  War  and  Peace ! "  One  follows  the  other  with- 
out confusion,  naturally,  with  entrancing  interest.  "  The  court 
and  camp,  uown  and  country,  nobles  and  peasants, —  all  are 
sketched  in  \vith  the  same  broad  and  sure  outline.  We  pass 
at  a  leap  froj^ :.  a  soir^  to  a  battle-field,  from  a  mud  hovel  to  a 
palace,  from  \  .n  idyl  to  a  saturnalia.  As  we  summon  our  recol- 
lections of  v  e  prodigal  outpouring  of  a  careless  genius,  a 
troop  of  chariicters  as  lifelike  as  any  in  Scott  or  in  Shakes- 
peare, defile  before  our  mental  eye.  Tolstoi  finds  endless  op- 
portunities of  inculcating  his  favorite  themes  :  —  the  mastery 
of  circumstance  over  will  and  db?ire,  the  weakness  of  man  in 
the  front  of  things,  and  the  necessitv  for  resignation." 

But  it  is  not  alone  as  a  novel  that  "  War  and  Peace  "  is  re- 
markable. It  is  the  basis  and  illustration  of  a  theory  of  Fate, 
which,  if  not  new  and  original,  is  put  in  such  a  new  and  orig- 
inal way  that  it  might  be  regarded  as  epoch-making.  Life  has 
often  been  regarded  as  a  chess  board,  but  while  the  pawns 
were  moved  by  Fate,  the  kings  and  bishops  and  knights  were 
conceived  as  free  agents.     Count   Tolstoi  desires  to  show 


PREFA  Ce.  V 

that  the  great  man  is  as  much  a  puppet  as  the  merest  sol- 
dier: Napoleon  or  Kutuzof  or  Bagration,  seeming  to  direct 
great  moyements,  were,  in  reality,  no  more  the  efficient  cause 
of  them  than  the  striking  of  the  clock  is  the  cause  of  a  sunset. 

In  support  of  this  theory  —  which  is  a  theory  simply  taken 
for  granted,  rather  than  actually  propounded  —  Count  Tolsto! 
introduces  the  great  men  of  those  famous  Napoleonic  days, 
and  shows  how  they,  as  well  as  men  unknown,  were  led,  often 
with  eyes  wide  open,^into  courses  where  destruction  infallibly 
awaited  them. 

And,  furthermore,  "  War  and  Peace,"  like  all  of  Count  Tols- 
tof  s  works,  is  a  mighty  protest  against  war.  There  is  no  argu- 
ing in  it  about  the  waste,  and  the  demoralization,  and  the 
cruelty,  and  the  unmanliness  of  it,  but,  like  all  Russian  argu- 
ment, it  is  by  yivid  pictures  such  as  no  one  can  resist. 

Not,  therefore,  merely  as  a  work  of  art  should  we  predict 
immortality  for  "  War  and  Peace."  It  is  above  mere  art :  it  is 
the  sermon  of  a  prophet,  the  undying  word  of  a  man  who  be- 
lieves in  his  mission,  and  must  give  it  to  his  fellow-men. 
Herein  lies  its  true  greatness. 

The  present  translation  has  been  made  from  the  original  Rus- 
sian. Tolstoi  has  been  felicitously  called  "  the  Russian  Rem- 
brandt." It  is  not  fair  to  reproduce  Rembrandt  as  a  Tenierp. 
The  French  versions  of  Russian  are  apt  to  smooth  and  weaV  en 
the  bluntness  and  vigor  of  the  original.  Count  Tolstoi  days : 
"  On  pashoV^  The  French  expands  this,  which  simpl"  means 
''He  went  out,"  into  "  Apres  avoir  exhale  sa  colerSj  U  ^en  alia 
ehez  luij''  ten  words  for  two.  One  may  be  sometimes  tempted 
to  substitute  the  curved  line  of  beauty  for  the  straight  line  of 
duty,  or  soften  a  harsh  silhouette,  but  beyond  certiin  unavoid- 
able issues  of  the  sort  necessary  for  reproducing  the  impres- 
sion given  by  the  original,  the  translator  ought  to  be  as  faith- 
ful as  possible.  Here  the  old  law  of  an  eye  for  an  eye  and  a 
tooth  for  a  tooth,  repudiated  by  Count  Tolstoi,  ought  to  have 
a  new  application ! 

A  list  of  the  characters  has  been  added  for  convenience  of  ref- 
erence, and  at  the  end  of  the  work  will  be  found  a  synopsis  of 
the  story.  For  the  amusement  or  gratification  of  the  cultured 
reader,  some  of  the  polyglot  conversation  so  characteristic 
of  the  story,  as  it  was  characteristic  of  educated  Russians  two 
generations  ago,  has  been  relegated  to  foot  notes. 

Nathan  Haskell  Dole. 
BoeroN,  May  1, 1680. 


t. 


t 


WAR  AND  PEACE. 


PART    FIRST. 

CHAPTER  I. 

"Wkll,  prince,  Genoa  and  Lucca  are  now  nothing  more 
than  the  apanages,  than  the  private  property  of  the  Bonaparte 
family.  I  warn  you  that  if  you  do  not  tell  me  we  are  going 
to  have  war,  if  you  still  allow  yourself  to  condone  all  the 
infamies,  all  the  atrocities  of  this  Antichrist  —  on  my  word  I 
believe  he  is  Antichrist — -.that  is  the  end  of  our  acquaintance ; 
you  are  no  longer  ray  friend,  you  are  no  longer  my  faithful 
slave,  as  you  caJl  yourself.*  Now,  be  of  good  courage,  I  see 
I  frighten  you.     Come,  sit  down  and  tell  me  all  about  it." 

It  was  on  a  July  evening,  1805,  that  the  famous  Anna 
Pavlovna  Scherer,  maid  of  honor  and  confidant  of  the  Em- 
press Maria  Feodorovna,  thus  greeted  the  influential  states- 
man, Prince  Vasili,  who  was  the  first  to  arrive  at  her  recep- 
tion. 

Anna  Pavlovna  had  been  coughing  for  several  days;  she 
had  the  grippe^  as  she  affected  to  call  her  influenza — grippe 
at  that  time  being  a  new  word  only  occasionally  employed. 

A  number  of  little  notes  distributed  that  morning  by  a 
footman  in  red  livery  had  been  all  couched  in  the  same 
terms :  — 

"If  you  have  nothing  better  to  do,  M.  le  Comte  (or  inon  Prince), 
and  if  the  prospect  of  spending  the  evening  with  a  poor  invalid  is  not  too 
dismal,  I  shall  be  charmed  to  see  you  at  my  house  between  seven  and 
ten.  Annbtte  Sen  brer." 

"  Oh !  what  a  savage  attack ! "  rejoined  the  prince,  as  he 
came  forward  in  his  embroidered  court  uniform,  stockings, 
and  diamond-buckled  shoes,  and  with  an  expression  of  seren- 

*  In  the  fifth  edition  of  Count  Tolstoi's  works,  this  conversation  is  in  a 
mixture  of  French  and  Russian.  In  the  seventh  (1887)  tlie  Russian  entirely 
replaces  the  French  —  N.  H.  D. 

VOL.  1.  —  1  1 


2  WAR  AND  PEACE, 

ity  on  his  insipid  face,  showing  that  he  was  not  in  the  least 
disturbed  by  this  reception. 

He  spoke  that  elegant  French  in  which  Russians  formerly 
not  only  talked  but  also  thought,  And  his  voice  was  low  and 
patronizing,  as  becomes  a  distinguished  man  who  has  spent  a 
long  life  in  society  and  at  Court. 

He  went  up  to  Anna  Pavlovna,  kissed  her  hand,  bending 
down  to  it  his  perfumed  and  polished  bald  head,  and  then  he 
seated  himself  comfortably  on  the  sofa :  — 

"  First  tell  me  how  you  are,  ehere  amis,  calm  your  friend's 
anxiety,"  said  he,  speaking  in  Russian,  but  not  altering  the 
tone  of  his  voice,  which,  in  spite  of  the  gallant  and  sympar 
thetic  nature  of  his  remark,  still  betrayed  indifference  and 
even  raillery. 

"How  can  one  be  well — when  one's  moral  sensibilities 
are  so  tormented  ?  Is  it  possible  in  these  days  for  a  person 
possessed  of  any  feeling  to  remain  calm  ? "  exclaimed  Anna 
Pavlovna.     "You  will  spend  the  evening  with  us,  I  hope  ?  " 

"  Ah !  but  the  English  ambassador's  fete  ?  It  is  Wednesday, 
you  know.  I  must  show  myself  there,"  said  the  prince. 
"  My  daughter  is  coming  for  me,  to  take  me  there." 

"I  thought  that  had  been  postponed.  I  confess  all  these 
fetes  and  fireworks  are  beginning  to  grow  insipid !  " 

"If  they  had  known  that  it  was  your  desire,  they  would  have 
postponed  the  fete"  said  the  prince,  from  habit,  like  a  watch 
wound  up,  saying  things  which  he  hsid  no  expectation  of  being 
believed. 

"Don't  tease  me! — Well,  what  decision  has  been 
reached  in  regard  to  Novosiltsof's  despatch?  You  know 
everything." 

"  How  can  I  tell  you,"  said  the  prince,  in  a  cold  tone  of 
annoyance,  "what  decision  has  been  reached?  This:  that 
Bonaparte  has  burnt  his  ships,  and  I  believe  that  we  are  about 
to  burn  ours." 

Prince  Vasili  always  spoke  indolently,  like  an  actor  rehears- 
ing an  old  part.  Anna  Pavlovna,  on  the  contrary,  in  spite  of 
her  forty  years,  was  full  of  vivacity  and  impulses. 

Being  an  enthusiast  had  given  her  a  peculiar  position  in 
society,  and  sometimes,  even  when  it  was  contrary  to  her  own 
inclinations,*  she  worked  herself  up  to  the  proper  pitch  of 
enthusiasm,  so  as  not  to  disappoint  her  acquaintances.  The 
suppressed  smile  constantly  playing  over  her  face,  although 
incongruous  with  her  faded  features,  expressed,  just  as  in  the 
case  of  spoiled  children,  the  unfailing  consciousness  of  a  fail- 


t 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  3 

ing  on  the  side  of  amiability,  which  she  could  not  and  would 
not  correct,  even  if  she  thought  it  advisable. 

They  got  deep  in  a  conversation  about  political  matters,  and 
Anna  Pavlovna  became  thoroughly  heated,  — 

"  Oh !  don't  say  anything  to  me  about  Austria.  Perhaps  I 
do  not  know  anything  about  it,  but  Austria  has  never  wished 
for  war,  and  she  does  not  now.  She  is  betraying  us.  Russia 
alone  must  be  the  salvation  of  Europe.  Our  benefactor 
realizes  his  high  calling,  and  will  be  faithful  to  it.  That  is 
one  thing  in  which  I  have  a  firm  belief.  The  grandest  part 
in  the  world  lies  before  our  kind  and  splendid  sovereign,  and 
he  is  so  benevolent  and  good  that  God  will  not  abandon  him, 
and  he  will  fulfil  his  mission  of  crushing  the  hydra  of  revolu- 
tion, which  is  now  more  monstrous  than  ever,  in  the  face  of 
this  murderer  and  scoundrel.  We  alone  are  called  upon  to 
redeem  the  blood  of  the  just.  On  whom  can  we  rely,  I 
ask  you  ?  —  England  with  her  commercial  spirit  does  not 
understand,  and  cannot  understand  all  the  loftiness  of  soul 
of  the  Emperor  Alexander.  She  has  refused  to  evacuate 
Malta.  She  is  anxious  to  find,  she  is  seeking  for  some  secret 
motive  in  our  actions.  What  did  they  say  to  Novosiltsof  ? 
—  nothing!  They  do  not  and  they  caimot  understand  the 
self-denial  of  our  emperor,  who  wishes  nothing  for  his  own 
gain,  but  everything  for  the  good  of  the  world.  And  what 
have  they  promised  ?  Nothing !  Even  what  they  have  prom- 
ised will  not  be  performed.  Prussia  has  already  declared  that 
Bonaparte  is  invincible,  and  that  all  Europe  is  powerless 
before  him. — And  I  have  not  the  slightest  faith  in  Har- 
denberg  or  in  Haugwitz.  This  famous  Prussian  neutrality  is 
only  a  snare.  I  believe  in  God  alone,  and  in  the  high  destiny 
of  our  beloved  emperor.     He  will  save  Europe ! "  — 

She  suddenly  paused,  with  a  smile  of  amusement  at  her  own 
impetuosity. 

"I  think,"  said  the  prince,  smiling,  "that  if  you  had  been 
sent  instead  of  our  dear  Vintzengerode,  you  would  have  taken 
the  King  of  Prussia's  consent  by  storm.  You  are  so  eloquent ! 
Will  you  give  me  some  tea  ?  " 

"Directly.  A  propos,^^  she  added,  becoming  calm  once 
more,  "this  evening  I  shall  have  two  very  interesting  men  : 
le  Vicomte  de  Montemart,  connected  with  the  Montmorencys 
through  the  Kohans,  one  of  the  best  families  of  France.  He 
is  one  of  the  decent  emigrants  of  the  genuine  sort.  And 
then  I'Abb^  Morio ;  do  you  know  that  profound  mind  ?  He  has 
been  received  by  the  sovereign.     Do  you  know  him  ?  " 


4  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

"All  I  I  shall  be  most  happy,"  said  the  prince.  ''But  tell 
me/'  he  went  on  to  say,  as  though  something  just  at  that 
moment  for  the  first  time  occurred  to  him,  whereas  in  reality 
this  question  was  the  chief  object  of  his  visit,  "  is  it  true  that 
V Invperatrice  Mh'e  wishes  Baron  Funke  to  be  named  as  first 
secretary  at  Vienna?  It  seems  to  me  that  this  baron  is  a 
poor  specimen."  ♦ 

Prince  Vasili  was  anxious  for  his  son  to  get  the  appoint- 
ment to  this  place,  which  a  party  was  trying  to  secure  for  the 
baron  through  the  influence  of  the  Empress  Maria  Feodo- 
rovna. 

Anna  Pavlovna  almost  closed  her  eyes,  to  signify  that 
neither  she  nor  any  one  else  could  tell  what  would  satisfy  or 
please  the  empress. 

"  Baron  Funke  was  recommended  to  the  Empress  Dowager 
by  her  sister,"  said  she  in  French,  curtly,  dryly,  and  in  a  mel- 
ancholy tone.  Whenever  Anna  Pavlovna  spoke  of  the  empress, 
her  face  suddenly  assumed  a  deep  and  genuine  expression  of 
devotion  and  deference  tinged  with  melancholy,  and  this  was 
characteristic  of  her  at  all  times  when  she  was  reminded  of 
her  august  patroness.  She  said  that  her  majesty  had  been 
pleased  to  show  Baron  Funke  beaucoup  d'estinief  and  again  the 
shade  of  melancholy  passed  over  her  face. 

The  prince  preserved  an  indifferent  silence.  Anna  Pav- 
lovna, with  a  quickness  and  dexterity  characteristic  of  a  woman, 
and  especially  of  one  brought  up  at  court,  had  taken  pains  to 
give  the  prince  a  rap  because  of  his  daring  to  speak  in  dis- 
praise of  a  person  who  had  been  recommended  to  the  empress, 
and  at  the  same  time  she  consoled  him.  "  Mais  a  propos  de 
voire  famUlej^  she  added,  " do  you  know  that  your  daughter, 
since  she  came  out,  has  roused  the  enthusiasm  of  all  our  best 
people.     She  is  considered  to  be  as  lovely  as  the  day."  t 

The  prince  bowed  in  token  of  his  respect  and  gratitude. 

"  I  often  think,"  pursued  Anna  Pavlovna,  after  a  moment's 
silence,  drawing  a  little  closer  to  the  prince  and  giving  him  a 
flattering  smile,  as  though  to  imply  that  she  had  nothing  more 
to  say  about  politics  and  society,  but  was  ready  to  enter  into 
a  confidential  chat :  "I  often  think  how  unfairly  happiness  in 
life  is  distributed.  Why  should  fate  have  given  you  two  such 
splendid  children  (I  don't  count  Anatol,  your  youngest,  for  I 
don't  like  him,"  she  said  decisively,  in  way  of  parenthesis, 
and  raising  her  brows),  two  such  lovely  children,  and  really 

•  C*e9t  vnpauvre  Sire,  ce  Baron  h  ce  qu'il  paraii. 

t  Fait  Us  delices  de  tout  le  monde»    On  la  trouve  bdle  comme  lejour. 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  6 

joa  do  not  appreciate  them,  and  therefore  do  not  deserve 
them." 

And  she  smiled  her  enthusiastic  smile. 

'^  Que  voulez^vous  ?  Lavater  would  have  said  that  I  lack  the 
bomp  of  philoprogenitiveness,"  said  the  prince. 

"Now  stop  joking.  I  wanted  to  have  a  serious  talk  with 
yon.  You  must  know,  I  am  out  of  patience  with  your  young- 
est son.  Between  you  and  me  (here  her  face  assumed  its  mel- 
ancholj  expression),  they  have  oeen  talking  about  him  at  her 
majesty's,  and  pitying  you." 

The  prince  made  no  reply,  but  she  paused  and  looked  at  him 
significantly  while  waiting  for  his  answer.  Prince  Vasili 
frowned. 

^What  do  you  wish  me  to  do!"  he  exclaimed  at  last. 
"You  know  I  have  done  everything  for  their  education  that  is 
in  a  father's  power,  and  both  have  turned  out  des  imbeciles, 
Ippolit  is  nothing  worse  than  an  inoffensive  idiot,  but  Anatol 
is  one  of  quite  an  opposite  stamp.  There  is  that  difference 
between  them,"  said  he,  with  a  smile  more  natural  and  ani- 
mated than  usual,  and  at  the  same  time  allowing  an  unexpect- 
edly coarse  and  disagreeable  expression  to  be  most  distinctly 
manifest  in  the  wrinkles  around  his  mouth. 

"  And  why  is  it  that  such  men  as  you  have  children  ?  If 
jou  were  not  a  father,  I  should  not  be  able  to  find  fault  with 
you  about  anything,"  said  AnnaPavlovna,  lifting  her  eyes  pen- 
sively. 

"I  am  your  faithful  slave,  and  I  can  confess  it  to  you  alone. 
My  children  are  the  stumbling-blocks  of  my  existence.*  This 
is  my  cross.  That  is  the  way  that  I  explain  it  to  myself. 
Que  voulezrvous  ?  "  — 

He  paused,  expressing  with  a  gesture  his  submission  to  his 
cruel  fete.     Anna  Pavlovna  was  lost  in  thought. 

"Has  it  never  occurred  to  you  to  find  a  wife  for  your  prodi- 
gal son  ?  they  say  old  maids  have  a  mania  for  match-making, 
I  am  not  as  yet  conscious  of  this  weakness*,  but  I  know  a 
petite  personne,  who  is  very  unhappy  with  her  father,  a  rela- 
tive of  ours,  une  Princesse  Bolkonskaya." 

Prince  Vasili  made  no  reply,  but  the  motion  of  his  head 
showed  that,  with  the  swiftness  of  calculation  and  memory 
characteristic  of  men  of  the  world,  he  was  taking  her  sugges- 
tion into  consideration. 

"Did  you  know  that  this  Anatol  costs  me  forty  thousand  a 
year  ?  "  said  he,  evidently  unable  to  restrain  the  painful  current 

*  Ce  iont  letentravet  de  mon  existence* 


,,  6  '^^-K  AND  PEACE, 

It 

of  his  thoughts.  He  hesitated:  "What  will  it  be  five  yeart 
hence,  if  it  goes  at  this  rate.  VoUa  V advantage  (Tetre  ptreJ 
Is  she  rich,  this  princess  of  yours  ?  '' 

"  Her  father  is  very  rich  and  stingy.     He  lives  in  the  coun^ 
try.     You  know,  he  is  that  famous  Prince  Bolkonsky,  wh 
retired  during  the  lifetime  of  the  late   Emperor.     He  w 
nicknamed  *  The  King  of  Prussia.'    He  is  a  very  clevef  m 
but  full  of  whims,  and  a  trial.     La  pauvre  petite  is  as  ubhapp; 
as  she  can  be.*    She  has  a  brother  who  recently  married  *Lia 
Meinen.     He  is  on  Kutuzof s   staff.     He  will  be  h§i;^*'thi 
evening." 

"  Listen,  chere  Annette,"  said  the  prince,  suddenly  -cl,itii 
his  companion's  hand  and  bending  it  down  for  some  reas< 
^^  Arrangez  moi  cette  affaire  and  I  will  be  your  faithfulh 
slave  forever  and  ever.     She  is  of  good  family  and  riclbc' — 
that  I  require." 

And  with  that  easy  and  natural  grace  for  which  he  was  di! 
tinguished,  he  raised  her  hand,  kissed  it,  and  having  kissed  i1 
still  retained  it  in  his,  while  he  settled  back  in  his  arm-cJ 
and  looked  to  one  side. 
•  ^^  Attendez  /  "  said  Anna  Pavlovna,  after  a  moment  of  coi 

sideration.     "  I  will  speak  about  it  this  very  evening  to  Lit 
(young  Bolkonsky's  wife),  and  perhaps  it  can  be  arlTQfg( 
In  your  family  I  shall  begin  my  old  maid's  apprenticeship." 


CHAPTER  II.  ^ 

Anna  Pavlovna's  drawing-room  gradually  began  to 
filled.  The  highest  aristocracy  of  Petersburg  came ;  peopl 
most  widely  differing  in  age  and  in  character,  but  alike 
that  they  ail  belonged  to  the  same  class  of  society.  Prin 
Vasili's  daughter,  the  beautiful  Ellen,  came,  in  ordei-  to 
with  her  father  to  the  embassador's  reception.  She  was 
ball  toilet  and  wore  the  Imperial  decoration.  There  ca 
also  the  little,  young  Princess  Bolkonskaya  known  as  thi 
most  fascinating  woman  in  Petersburg.  She  had  been  m 
ried  during  the  past  winter,  and  now,  owing  to  her  expec 
tions,  had  ceased  to  appear  at  large  entertainments,  but  stil 
went  to  small  receptions.  Prince  Ippolit,  Prince  Vasili's  sod 
came  with  Montemart,  whom  he  was  introducing  to  society^ 
The  Abb4  Morio  and  many  others  also  came. 

*'Have  you  seen  my  aunt  yet?"  or  *'Do  you  know  m; 

*  Moif^ureude  comme  lespierres. 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  7 

.lunt  ?  "  asked  Anna  Pavlovna  of  her  guests,  as  they  came  in, 
and  with  perfect  seriousness  she  would  lead  them  up  to  a 
^ittle  old  lady  wearing  tremendous  bows,  who  had  sailed  out 
irom  the  next  room  the  moment  the  guests  began  to  arrive, 
md  she  presented  them  by  name,  deliberately  looking  from 
^est  to  aunt,  and  then  going  back  to  her  place  again. 

All  the  guests  had  to  go  through  the  formality  of  an  intro- 
iaction  to  this  superfluous  aunt,  whom  no  one  knew  or  cared 
t^  '  aow.  Anna  Pavlovna,  with  a  melancholy,  rapturous  ex- 
pL.doion  of  sympathetic  approval,  silently  listened  to  their 
''zchange  of  formalities. 

'  Md  tantey"  spoke  to  all  new  comers  in  precisely  the  same 
terms  about  their  health,  her  own  health,  and  the  health  of 
her  majesty,  "which  was  better  to-day,  thank  God."  All 
■  k-H}  who  fell  into  her  clutches,  though  from  politeness  they 
^owed  no  undue  haste,  made  their  escape  with  the  conscious- 
•1688  of  relief  at  having  accomplished  a  disagreeable  duty,  and 
'ook  pains  not  to  stay  near  the  old  lady  or  to  come  into  her 
^ieinity  again  during  the  evening. 

The  young  Princess  Bolkonskaya  came,  bringing  some  work 
a  a  gold-embroidered  velvet  bag.  Her  pretty  little  upper  lip, 
just,  shaded  by  an  ahnost  imperceptible  down,  was  rather 
%L./t,  but  all  the  more  fascinating  when  it  displayed  her 
teeth,  and  more  fascinating  still  when  she  drew  it  down  a 
little  and  closed  it  against  the  under  lip.  As  is  always  the 
lase  with  perfectly  charming  women,  her  defect  of  a  short 
iip  iind  a  half-open  mouth  seemed  like  a  peculiar  distinction 
aad  an  addition  to  her  beauty. 

It  was  a  delight  for  all  to  look  .at  this  beautiful  youug 
woman  so  full  of  health  and  life,  and  so  gracious  with  the 
j'roi^ise  of  coming  motherhood.  Old  men  and  surly  young 
men,  soured  before  their  time,  as  they  looked  at  her  seemed 
ro  become  like  her,  after  being  in  her  presence  and  talking 
v^ith  her  for  a  little  time.  Whoever  spoke  with  her  and  saw 
ber  bright  smile,  and  her  shining  white  teeth  displayed  at 
CTery  word,  was  sure  to  go  away  with  the  impression  that  he 
had/>een  unusually  agreeable  that  day.  And  every  one  felt 
the  same. 

The  young  princess,  with  her  workbag  in  her  hand,  making 
her  way  along  with  short  quick  steps,  passed  around  the 
uble  and  joyously  disposing  her  dress,  sat  down  on  the  sofa 
near  the  silver  samov^,  as  though  all  that  she  did  was  partie 
fitplaisir  for  herself  and  all  around  her. 

*'I  have  brought  my  vorjc/'  she  said,  in  French,  opening 


8  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

her  reticule,  and  addressing  the  whole  company.  '^Kow  see 
here,  Annette,  don't  play  a  naughty  trick  upon  me,"  she  went 
on  to  say,  turning  to  the  hostess.  '<  You  wrote  me  that  it 
was  to  be  a  little  informal  soirie  ;  see^  how  unsuitably  I  am 
dressed ! " 

And  she  spread  out  her  arms  so  as  to  display  her  elegant  gray 
gown  trimmed  with  lace  and  belted  high  with  a  wide  ribbon. 

"  Soyez  tranquUley  Lise,"  replied  Anna  Pavlovna,  "  you  will 
always  be  the  most  beautiful  of  all." 

''  You  know  my  husband  is  deserting  me,"  continued  the 
young  princess,  still  in  French,  and  addressing  a  general,  ^'  He 
IS  going  to  meet  his  death.  —  Tell  me,  why  this  wretched 
war  ?  "  she  added,  this  time  speaking  to  Prince  Vasili,  and 
without  waiting  for  his  rejoinder,  she  had  some  remark  to 
make  to  Prince  Vasili's  daughter,  the  handsome  Ellen. 

"  Quelle  delicieuse  personne  que  cette  petite  princesse  / " 
whispered  Prince  VasQi  to  Anna  Pavlovna. 

Shortly  after  the  young  princess's  arrival,  a  huge,  stout 
young  man  came  in.  His  head  was  close  cropped,  he  had  on 
eyeglasses,  and  wore  stylish  light  trousers,  an  immense  frill, 
and  a  cinnamon-colored  coat.  This  stout  young  man  was  the 
illegitimate  son  of  Count  Bezukhoi,  a  famous  grandee  of 
Catherine's  time,  and  now  lying  at  the  point  of  death  in  Mos^ 
cow.  He  had  not  as  yet  entered  any  branch  of  the  service, 
having  just  returned  from  abroad,  where  he  had  been  educated, 
and  this  was  his  first  appearance  in  society. 

Anna  Pavlovna  welcomed  him  with  a  nod  reserved  for  men 
of  the  very  least  importance  in  the  hierarchy  of  her  salon. 
But  notwithstanding  this  greeting,  almost  contemptuous  in  its 
way,  Anna  Pavlovna's  face,  as  Pierre  came  toward  her,  ex- 
pressed anxiety  and  dismay  such  as  one  experiences  at  the 
sight  of  anything  too  huge  and  out  of  place. 

Pierre  was  indeed  rather  taller  than  any  one  else  in  the 
room,  but  the  princess's  dismay  could  have  been  caused  only 
by  the  young  man's  intelligent,  and  at  the  same  time  diffident 
glance,  so  honest  and  keen  that  it  distinguished  him  from 
every  one  else  in  the  room. 

"  It  is  very  kind  of  you,  ^  Monsieur  Pierre,'  to  come  and  see 
a  poor  invalid,"  said  Anna  Pavlovna,  looking  up  in  alarm  from 
her  aunt,  to  whom  she  was  conducting  him. 

Pierre  blurted  out  some  incoherent  reply,  and  continued  to 
let  his  eyes  wander  around  the  assembly.  With  a  gay,  rap- 
turous smile  he  bowed  to  the  little  princess  as  though  she 
were  an  intimate  friend,  and  was  led  up  to  the  aunt. 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  9 

Anna  Pavlovna's  alarm  was  justified,  for  Pierre  did  not  wait 
for  the  old  lady  to  finish  her  discourse  about  her  majesty's 
health,  but  left  her  in  the  midst  of  it.  Anna  Pavlovna  in  dis- 
may tried  to  detain  him  with  the  words,  — 

"  Do  vou  know  the  Abb6  Morio  ?  "  she  asked,  "he  i/i  a  very 
interesting  man." 

^'  Yes,  I  have  heard  of  his  plan  for  a  perpetual  peace,  and 
it  is  veiy  interesting,  but  hardly  feasible.'^ 

'^  Do  you  think  so  ?  "  said  Anna  Pavlovna,  for  the  sake  of 
saying  something,  and  once  more  returning  to  her  duties  as 
hostess ;  but  Pierre  now  was  guilty  of  an  incivility  of  an  op- 
posite nature.  Before,  he  had  left  a  lady  without  allowing 
her  to  finish  speaking;  now  he  detained  another  lady  and 
made  her  listen  to  him  though  she  wished  to  leave  him. 

Bending  his  head  down,  and  spreading  his  long  legs,  he 
began  to  show  Anna  Pavlovna  why  he  conceived  that  the 
abbe's  plan  was  chimerical. 

"  We  will  talk  about  that  by  and  by,"  said  Anna  Pavlovna, 
with  a  smile. 

And  having  turned  away  from  this  young  man  who  did 
not  know  the  ways  of  polite  society,  she  once  more  devoted 
herself  to  her  duties  as  hostess,  and  continued  to  listen  and 
look  on,  ready  to  lend  her  aid  wherever  conversation  was 
beginning  to  flag.  Just  as  the  proprietor  of  a  spinning  estab- 
lishment, who  has  stationed  his  workmen  at  their  places,  walks 
up  and  down  on  his  tour  of  inspection,  and  when  he  notices 
any  spindle  that  has  stopped  or  that  makes  an  unusually  loud 
of  creaking  noise,  hastens  to  it,  and  checks  it  or  sets  it  going  in 
its  proper  rote,  even  so  Anna  Pavlovna,  as  she  walked  up  and 
do?m  her  drawing-room,  came  to  some  group  that  was  silent,  or 
that  was  talking  too  excitedly,  and  by  a  single  word  or  a 
slight  transposition,  set  the  talking  machine  in  regular  deco- 
rous running  order  again. 

But  while  she  was  occupied  with  these  labors,  it  could  be 
seen  that  she  was  all  the  time  in  especial  dread  of  Pierre. 
She  watched  him  anxiously  while  he  went  to  listen  to  what  was 
said  in  the  circle  around  Mohtemart,  and  then  joined  another 
group,  where  the  abbe  was  discoursing. 

For  Pierre,  who  had  been  educated  abroad,  this  reception  at 
Anna  Pavlovna's  was  the  first  introduction  to  society  in  Eus- 
sia.  He  knew  that  all  the  intellect  of  Petersburg  was  gath- 
ered here,  and  like  a  child  in  a  toy-show,  he  kept  his  eyes 
open.  He  was  all  the  time  afraid  of  missing  some  clever  con- 
versation that  might  interest  him.    As  he  saw  the  assured 


10  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

and  refined  expressions  on  the  faces  of  those  gathered  here,  he 
was  ever  on  the  look  out  for  something  especially  intellectual. 
He  had  finally  come  where  Mono  was.  The  conversation 
seemed  to  him  interesting,  and  he  stood  there  waiting  a  chance 
to  air  hi9  opinions,  as  young  men  are  fond  of  doing. 


CHAPTER  III. 

Anna  Pavlovna's  reception  was  in  full  swing.  The  spin- 
dles on  all  sides  were  buzzing  smoothly  and  without  halt. 
With  the  exception  of  Ma  Tante,  near  whom  sat  only  one 
elderly  lady  with  a  thin  tear-worn  face,  a  poor  soul  rather 
out  of  place  in  this  brilliant  society,  the  guests  were  divided 
into  three  circles.  In  one,  for  the  most  part  composed  of  men, 
the  Abb6  Morio  formed  the  centre ;  in  the  second  there  were 
young  people  grouped  around  the  beautiful  Princess  Ellen, 
Prince  Vasili's  daughter,  and  the  pretty  little  Princess  Bolkon- 
skaya,  fair  and  rosy,  but  too  stout  for  her  age.  ^ 

In  the  third  were  Montemart  and  Anna  Pavlovna. 

The  viscount  was  an  attractive-looking  young  man,  with 
delicate  features  and  refined  manne/s.  He  evidently  regarded 
himself  as  a  celebrity,  but  through  his  good  breeding,  modestly 
allowed  the  company  with  which  he  mingled  to  profit  by  his 
presence.  It  was  plain  to  see  that  Anna  Pavlovna  served  hifn 
as  a  treat  for  her  guests,  just  as  a  good  mattre  d* hotel 
offers  as  a  supernaturally  delicious  dish,  some  piece  of  meat 
which  no  one  would  feel  like  eating  were  it  seen  in  the  un- 
savory kitchen ;  so  this  evening  Anna  Pavlovna  served  up  to 
her  guests  first  the  viscount,  then  the  abb^,  as  some  sort  of 
supernatural  delicacy 

In  Montemart's  circle  they  immediately  began  to  discuss  the 
murder  of  the  Duke  d'Enghien.  The  viconnt  maintained  that 
the  duke  had  fallen  a  victim  to  his  own  magnanimity,  and 
that  there  had  been  personal  reasons  for  Bonaparte's  ill  will. 

"Ah!  Voyons.  Contez  nous  eela,  vicojjite/'  said  Anna 
Pavlovna,  ecstatically,  with  a  consciousness  that  this  phrase^ 
"  contez  notut  cela  vicomte  —  tell  us  about  it  viscount,"  had  $ 
certain  ring  like  Louis  XV. 

The  viscount  bowed  in  token  of  submission,  and  smiled 
urbanely.  Anna  Pavlovna  made  her  circle  close  in  arountt 
the  viscount,  and  invited  all  to  hear  his  account. 

"  The  viscount  knew  the  duke  personally,"  whispered  Ann.. 
Pavlovna  in  French,  to  one  of  her  guests.     "  The  viscount  U 


i 


WAR  AND  PEACE,  11 

wonderfully  clever  at  telling  a  story/'  she  said  to  another^ 
'<  How  easy  it  is  to  tell  a  man  used  to  good  society/'  she  ex- 
claimed to  a  thirds  and  the  viscount  was  offered  to  the  company 
in  a  halo  most  exquisite  and  flattering  to  himself^  like  roast 
heef  garnished  with  parsley  on  a  hot  platter. 

The  viscount  was  just  about  beginning  his  narration,  and  a 
faint  smile  played  over  his  lips. 

"  Ck>me  over  here,  ehere  Helene"  said  Anna  Pavlovna,  to  the 
lovely  young  princess,  who  was'  seated  at  some  little  distance, 
the  centre.of  the  second  group. 

The  Princess  Ellen  smiled ;  she  stood  up  with  the  smile  on 
her  face  which  is  so  natural  to  a  perfectly  beautiful  woman, 
and  which  she  had  worn  when  she  first  came  into  the  room. 
Lightly  trailing  her  white  ball  dress,  ornamented  with  smilax 
and  moss,  with  shoulders  gleaming  white,  with  glossy  hair 
and  flashing  gems,  she  made  her  way  through  the  ranks  of 
men  who  stood  aside  to  let  her  pass,  and  not  looking  at  any 
one  in  particular,  but  smiling  on  all,  and  as  it  were,  amiably 
granting  each  one  the  privilege  of  viewing  the  beauty  of  her 
form,  of  her  plump  shoulders,  of  her  beautiful  bosom  and 
back,  exposed  by  the  low  cut  of  dresses  then  in  vogue,  seeming 
to  personify  the  radiance  of  festivity,  she  crossed  over  to 
Anna  Pavlovna's  side. 

Ellen  was  so  lovely  that  not  only  there  was  not  a  shade  of 
coquetry  to  be  perceived  in  her,  but  on  the  contrary,  she  was, 
as  it  were,  conscience-stricken  at  her  unquestionable  and  all- 
conquering  maidenly  beauty.  She  seemed  to  have  the  will 
but  not  the  power  to  diminish  the  effect  of  her  loveliness. 

"  Quelle  belle  personne,^^  was  remarked  by  all  who  saw  her. 

The  viscount,  as  though  overwhelmed  by  something  quite 
out  of  the  ordinary,  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  dropped  his 
eyes  at  the  moment  she  took  her  seat  in  front  of  him  and 
turned  upon  him  the  radiance  of  that  perpetual  smile. 

"  Madame,  I  fear  that  my  ability  is  not  on  a  par  with  such 
an  audience,"  *  said  he,  inclining  his  head  with  a  smile. 

The  young  princess  rested  her  bare  round  arm  on  the  table, 
and  did  not  think  it  inctimbent  upon  her  to  say  anything  in 
reply.  She  smiled  and  waited.  All  the  time  that  he  was  tell- 
ing his  story  she  sat  upright,  glancing  occasionally  now  at  her 
beautiful  plump  arm,  which  by  its  pressure  on  the  table  altered 
its  shape,  now  at  her  still  more  beautiful  bosom,  on  which  she 
adjusted  her  diamond  necklace ;  once  or  twice  she  smoothed 
out  the  folds  of  her  dress,  and  when  the  story  was  unusually 

*  Je  crairupour  me*  moyens  devant  unpareil  auditoire. 


12  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

impressivei  she  would  look  at  Anna  Pavlovna  and  for  an 
instant  assume  the  very  same  expression  that  was  on  the 
fretlin's  face,  and  then  again  relapse  into  her  calm,  radiant 
smile. 

The  little  Princess  Bolkonskaya  also  left  the  tea  table  and 
followed  Ellen. 

"Wait  a  moment,  I  am  going  to  bring  my  work!''  she 
exclaimed.  —  "  Voyona  a  qtioi  pense^-vausy'^  she  added,  turning 
to  Prince  Ippolit  —  "  bring  me  my  workbag." 

The  young  wife,  smiling,  and  having  a  word  for  every  one, 
quickly  effected  her  transmigration,  and  as  she  took  her  seat, 
merrily  arranged  herself. 

"  Now  I  am  comfortable,"  she  exclaimed,  and  begging  the 
viscount  to  begin,  she  set  herself  to  her  work  again.  Prince 
Ippolit  brought  her  the  bag  and,  placing  his  chair  near  her,  sat 
down. 

Le  charmant  Hippolyte  struck  one  by  his  extraordinary 
likeness  to  his  sister,  the  beautiful  Ellen,  and  still  more  by 
tlie  fact  that  in  spite  of  this  likeness  he  was  astonishingly 
ugly.  His  features  were  the  same  as  his  sister's,  but  in  her 
case  all  was  illumined  by  her  radiantly  joyous,  self-contented, 
unfailing  smile  of  life  and  youth,  and  the  remarkable  classic 
beauty  of  her  form.  In  the  case  of  the  brother,  on  the  con- 
trary, the  face,  though  the  same,  was  befogged  with  an  idiotic 
expression,  and  looked  always  Self-conceited  and  sulky,  and 
his  body  was  lean  and  feeble.  Eyes,  nose,  mouth,  all  yere 
fixed,  aa  it  were,  in  a  perpetual  grimace  vaguely  indicative  of 
his  discontented  state  of  mind,  while  his  arms  and  legs  always 
assumed  some  unnatural  attitude^ 

"  This  is  not  a  ghost  story,  is  it  ?  "  *  he  asked,  as  he  sat 
down  near  the  princess  and  hastily  put  on  his  eyeglass,  as 
though  without  this  instrument  it  were  impossible  for  him  to 
say  a  word. 

"  Why  no,  my  dear,"  replied  the  astonished  narrator,  shrug- 
ging his  shoulders. 

"  Because  I  detest  ghost  stories,"  he  added,  and  it  was  plain 
from  his  tone  that  only  after  he  had  spoken  these  words  he 
realized  their  significance. 

The  self-assurance  with  which  he  spoke  was  so  complete,  no 
one  could  tell  whether  his  remark  was  very  witty  or  very 
stupid.  He  wore  a  dark  green  coat,  pantaloons  of  a  shade 
that  he  called  mcisse  de  nymphe  effrayij  and  stockings  and 
pumps. 

*  Ce  nV«C  pas  unit  hUtoire  de  revenamt*  f 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  13 

The  viscount  gave  a  very  clever  rendering  of  an  anecdote  at 
that  time  going  the  rounds,  to  the  effect  that  the  Duke  d'Enghien 
had  gone  secretly  to  Paris  to  see  Mile.  Qeorge,  and  there  met 
Bonaparte  who  aJso  enjoyed  the  favors  of  the  famous  actress, 
and  that  Napoleon  on  meeting  the  duke  there,  happened  to 
fall  into  one  of  the  swoons  to  which  he  was  subject,  and  thus 
came  into  the  duke's  power,  but  the  duke  refrained  from 
taking  advantage  of  it,  while  Bonaparte  in  return  for  this 
magnanimity  revenged  himself  in  the  duke's  death. 

The  story  was  very  nice  and  interesting,  especially  at  the 
place  where  the  rivals  suddenly  recognize  each  other,  and  the 
ladies,  it  appeared,  were  moved. 

^'  Charmant  /  "  exclaimed  Anna  Pavlovna,  looking  interroga- 
tively at  the  little  princess. 

"  Charmant,"  whispered  the  *Uttle  princess,  looking  for  her 
needle  in  her  work,  as  though  to  signify  that  the  interest  and 
charm  of  the  tale  had  prevented  her  from  going  on  with  her 
sewing. 

The  viscount  was  flattered  by  this  mute  tribute  of  praise, 
and  with  a  gratified  smile  was  about  to  continue ;  but  at  this 
instant  Anna  Pavlovna  who  kept  her  eye  constantly  on  the 
young  man  who  seemed  to  her  so  dangerous,  noticed  that  he 
and  the  abb^  were  talking  altogether  too  loud  and  energeti- 
cally^ and  she  hastened  to  carry  aid  to  the  imperilled  place. 

In  reality  Pierre  had  succeeded  in  leading  the  abb^  into  a 
oonveisation  on  political  equipoise ;  and  the  abb^,  evidently 
interested  by  the  young  man's  frank  impetuosity,  was  giving 
him  the  full  benefit  of  his  pet  idea.  Both  were  talking  and 
listening  with  too  much  natural  ardor,  and  this  was  displeas- 
ing to  Anna  Pavlovna. 

<<By  what  means?  —  the  balance  of  Europe  and  droit  des 
gensy"  the  abb6  was  saying.  <'  It  is  possible  for  one  powerful 
empire  like  Eussia,  having  the  repute  of  being  barbarous,  to 
take  her  stand  disinterestedly  at  the  head  of  an  alliance 
whose  aim  is  the  balance  of  Europe  —  and  she  would  save  the 
world  I " 

"How  would  you  bring  about  this  balance  of  power?" 
Pierre  was  beginning  to  ask ;  but  just  at  this  instant  Anna 
Pavlovna  joined  them,  and,  giving  Pierre  a  stern  glance,  asked 
the  Italian  how  he  bore  the  climate  of  Petersburg. 

The  Italian's  face  instantly  changed  and  took  on  an  offen- 
sively, affectedly  soft  expression,  which  was  evidently  habitual 
with  him  when  he  engaged  in  conversation  with  women. 

« I  am  so  enchanted  by  the  charms  of  the  wit  and  culture, 


14  WAR  AND  PEAC1S. 

especially  among  the  women  of  the  society  into  which  I  have 
the  honor  of  being  received,  that  I  have  not  had  time  as  yet 
to  think  of  the  climate,"  said  he. 

Anna  Pavlovna,  making  sure  of  Pierre  and  the  abb6,  brought 
them  into  the  general  circle,  so  that  she  might  keep  them 
under  her  observation. 

At  this  moment,  a  new  personage  appeared  in  the  drawing- 
room.  This  new  personage  was  the  young  Prince  Andrei  Bol- 
konsky,  the  husband  of  the  little  princess.  Prince  Bolkonsky 
was  a  very  handsome  youth  of  medium  height,  with  strongly 
marked  and  stern  features.  Everything  about  him,  from  the 
weary,  bored  expression  of  his  eyes  to  the  measured  deliberar 
tion  of  his  step,  presented  a  striking  contrast  with  his  little 
liveljr  wife.  He  was  not  only  acquainted,  it  seemed,  with  every 
one  in  the  room,  but  found  them  so  tedious  that  even  to  look 
at  them  and  hear  their  voices  was  too  much  for  his  equanimity. 
Of  all  those  faces  there,  apparently,  the  face  of  his  lovely  little 
wife  was  the  one  that  bored  him  the  most.  With  a  grim- 
ace that  disfigured  his  handsome  face,  he  turned  away  from 
her.  He  kissed  Anna  Pavlovna's  hand,  and  with  half-closed 
eyes  looked  round  at  the  assembly. 

"  So  you  are  getting  ready  for  war,  prince  ?  "  *  asked  Anna 
Pavlovna. 

^'  Greneral  Kutuzof  has  been  kind  enough  to  desire  me  as  his 
aide-de-camp." 

He  spoke  in  French  and  accented  the  last  syllable  of 
Kutuzof's  name  like  a  Frenchman. 

^^  Et  Lise,  voire  femme  ?  " 

"  She  will  go  into  the  country." 

"  Isn't  it  a  sin  for  you  to  deprive  us  of  your  charming  wife?  " 

*'  Andr^,"  exclaimed  the  little  princess,  addressing  her  hus- 
band in  the  same  coquettish  tone  that  she  employed  toward 
strangers,  "  You  should  have  heard  the  story  the  riscount  has 
been  telling  us  about  Mile.  George  and  Bonaparte ! " 

Prince  Andrei  frowned  and  turned  away ;  Pierre,  who  from 
the  moment  that  Prince  Andrei,  entered  the  room  had  not 
taken  his  merry  kindly  eyes  from  him,  now  came  to  him  and 
took  him  by  the  arm.  Prince  Andrei,  without  looking  round, 
again  contracted  his  face  into  a  grimace  expressing  his  annoy- 
ance that  any  one  should  touch  his  arm,  but  when  he  saw 
Pierre's  smiling  face,  his  face  lighted  up  with  an  unexpectedly 
kind  and  pleasant  smile. 

*  Vaut^ous  enrdUz  pour  la  guerre^  mon  prince  f 


WAR  AND  PEACE,  16 

^'Wliat  is  this  I  —  you  also  in  gaj  society?''  said  he  to 
Pierre. 

"I  knew  that  you  would  be  here/'  replied  Pierre,  "I  will  go 
home  to  supper  with  you/'  he  added  in  a  whisper,  so  as  not  to  dis- 
turb the  viscount,  who  was  proceeding  with  his  story,  "  Can  I  ?  " 

''  No,  of  course  you  can't,"  said  Prince  Andrei,  laughing,  and 
by  a  pressure  of  the  hand  giving  Pierre  to  understand  that  he 
had  no  need  of  asking  such  a  question. 

He  had  something  more  on  his  tongue's  end,  but  at  this 
moment,  Prince  Yasili  and  his  daughter  arose  and  the  two 
young  men  stood  aside  to  give  them  room  to  pass. 

"  You  will  excuse  me,  my  dear  viscount,"  said  Prince  Vasili, 
courteously  insisting  that  Uie  Frenchman  should  keep  his  seat, 
'^  This  unfortunate  ball  at  the  embassy  deprives  me  of  a  pleas- 
ure, and  compels  us  to  interrupt  you  —  I  am  very  sorry  to 
leave  your  delightful  reception,"  said  he  to  Anna  Pavlovna. 

His  daughter,  the  Princess  Ellen,  gracefully  holding  the 
folds  of  her  dress,  made  her  way  among  the  chairs,  and  the 
smile  on  her  lovely  face  was  more  radiant  than  ever.  Pierre 
looked  with  almost  startled,  though  enthusiastic  eyes  at  the 
beautiful  creature  as  she  passed  by  him. 

^  Very  handsome,"  said  Prince  Andrei.    "  Very,"  said  Pierre. 

As  he  went  by,  Prince  Vasili  seized  Pierre  by  the  hand  and 
turned  to  Anna  Pavlovna. 

"  Train  this  bear  for  me,"  said  he.  "  Here  he  has  been  living 
a  month  at  my  house,  and  this  is  the  first  time  that  I  have 
seen  him  in  society.  Nothing  is  so  advantageous  for  a  young 
man  as  the  society  of  clever  women." 


CHAPTER  IV. 

Anna  Pavlovna  smiled  and  promised  to  look  out  for  Pierre, 
who  was,  as  she  knew,  on  his  father's  side  related  to  Prince 
Vasili. 

The  elderly  lady  who  had  been  sitting  near  Ma  Tante 
jumped  up  haistily  and  followed  Prince  Vasili  into  the  entry. 
Her  face  lost  all  its  former  pretence  of  interest.  Her  kind, 
tear-worn  face  expressed  only  anxiety  and  alarm. 

"  What  can  you  tell  me,  prince,  about  my  Boris,"  she  said,  as 
she  followed  him  (she  pronounced  the  name  Boris  with  the 
accent  on  the  first  syllable),  "  I  cannot  stay  any  longer  in 
Petersburg.  Tell  me  what  tidings  I  can  take  to  my  poor 
boy." 


16  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

Although  Prince  Yasili's  manner  in  listening  to  the  old  lady 
was  reluctant  and  almost  uncivil,  and  even  showed  impatience, 
still  she  gave  him  a  flattering  and  affectionate  smile  and  took 
his  arm  to  detain  him. 

"  What  would  it  cost  you  to  say  a  word  to  the  emperor  and 
then  he  would  be  at  once  admitted  to  the  Guards ! "  she  added. 

^'  Be  assured  that  I  will  do  all  I  can,  princess/'  replied  Prince 
Vasili;  ''but  it  is  not  easy  for  me  to  ask  his  maiesty;  I 
should  advise  you  to  appeal  to  Bumyantsof  through  Prince 
Golitsin.    That  would  be  a  wiser  move." 

The  elderly  lady  bore  the  name  of  the  Princess  Drubetskaya^ 
belonging  to  one  of  the  best  families  in  Kussia,  but  as  she  was 
poor,  and  had  long  been  living  in  retirement,  she  had  lost  her 
former  social  ^sition.  She  was  now  in  Petersburg  in  the 
hopes  of  securing  the  admittance  of  her  only  son  into  the 
Imperial  Guards.  Merely  for  the  sake  of  meeting  Prince 
Vasili,  she  had  accepted  Anna  Pavlovna's  invitation  and  come 
to  the  reception ;  merely  for  this  she  had  listened  to  the  vis- 
count's story.  She  was  dismayed  at  Prince  Vasili's  words; 
her  handsome  face  expressed  vexation,  but  this  lasted  only  an 
instant.  She  smiled  once  more  and  clasped  Prince  Vasili's 
arm  more  firmly. 

"  Listen,  prince,"  said  she,  "I  have  never  asked  anything  of 
you,  and  I  never  shall  ask  anything  of  you  again  and  I  have 
never  reminded  you  of  the  friendship  that  my  father  had  for 
you.  But  now  I  beg  of  you,  in  Gk)d's  name,  do  this  for  my 
son  and  I  will  look  upon  you  as  our  benefactor."  She  added 
hastily,  "  No,  don't  be  angry,  but  promise  me  this.  I  have 
asked  Golitsin,  he  refused.  Sayez  le  bon  enfant  que  vous  avez 
eti/^  she  said,  trying  to  smile,  though  the  tears  were  in  her 
eyes. 

"  Papa,  we  shall  be  late,"  said  the  Princess  Ellen,  who  stood 
waiting  at  the  door,  and  turned  her  lovely  head  on  her  classic 
shoulders. 

Influence  in  society  is  a  capital  which  has  to  be  economized 
lest  it  be  exhausted.  Prince  Vasili  understood  this,  and  hav- 
ing once  come  to  the  conclusion  that  if  he  asked  favors  for 
everybody  who  applied  to  him,  it  would  soon  be  idle  to  ask 
anything  for  himself,  he  rarely  exerted  his  influence.  The 
Princess  Drubetskaya's  last  appeal  however,  caused  him  to 
feel  something  like  a  pang  of  conscience.  She  had  reminded 
him  of  the  fact  that  he  had  owed  to  her  father  his  early 
advancement  in  his  career;  moreover  he  saw  by  her  actions 
that  she  was  one  of  those  women,  notably  mothers,  who  hav- 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  17 

ing  once  conceived  a  notion,  do  not  rest  until  they  attain  the 
object  of  their  desires,  and,  if  opposed  are  ready  with  fresh 
urgencies,  and  even  scenes  at  any  day  or  any  moment.  This 
last  consideration  turned  the  scale  with  him. 

'^  Ch^e  Anna  MikhailoTna,"  said  he,  with  his  usual  familiar- 
ity and  with  a  shade  of  ill  humor  in  his  yoice :  ^<  It  is  almost 
impossible  for  me  to  do  what  you  wish ;  but  in  order  to  show 
you  how  fond  I  au^  of  you,  and  how  much  I  honor  your 
^U^her's  memory,  I  will  do  the  impossible ;  your  son  shall  be 
admitted  to  the  Guards,  here  is  my  hand  on  it.  Are  you  sat- 
isfied ?  " 

''My  dear,  you  are  our  benefactor.  I  expected  nothing  less 
from  you  —  I  knew  how  kind  you  were.  —  He  started  to  go, 
Wait,  two  words  more  —  une  fats  passe  aux  gardes  "  —  she 
hesitated.  ''  You  are  good  friends  with  Mikhail  Ilarionovitch 
Kutuzof,  do  recommend  Boris  to  him  as  aide-de-camp.  Then 
I  should  be  content,  and  then  '^  — 

Prince  Yasili  smiled. 

^  That  I  can't  promise.  You  have  no  idea  how  Kutuzof  has 
been  besieged  since  he  was  appointed  commander-in-chief. 
He  himself  told  me  that  all  the  ladies  of  Moscow  had  offered 
him  all  their  children  as  adjutants." 

"  No,  but  you  must  promise,  I  will  not  let  you  go,  my  dear 
friend,  my  benefactor,^  — 

''Papa,'^  again  insisted  the  beautiful  Ellen,  in  the  same 
tone,  "we  shall  be  late." 

''tYell,  au  revair,  good-by.     You  see  ?  " 

"  Then  to-morrow  you  will  speak  to  his  majesty  ?  " 

"  Without  fail,  but  I  cannot  promise  about  Kutuzof." 

"  No,  but  promise,  promise,  Basile,"  insisted  Anna  Mikhai- 
lovna,  with  a  coquettish  smile,  which  perhaps  in  days  long 
gone  by,  might  have  been  becoming  to  her,  but  now  ill  suited 
her  haggard  face.  She  evidently  forgot  her  age,  and  through 
habit,  put  her  confidence  in  her  former  feminine  resources. 
But  as  soon  as  he  was  gone,  her  face  again  assumed  the  same 
expression  as  before,  of  pretended  cool  complacency.  She 
returned  to  the  group  where  the  viscount  was  still  telling 
stones,  and  again  she  made  believe  listen,  though  she  was 
anxiously  waiting  for  the  time  to  go,  now  that  her  purpose  was 
accomplished. 

"  But  what  do  you  think  of  all  this  last  comedy  du  sacre  de 
Milan  ?  "  asked  Anna  Pavlovna,  "  and  the  new  comedy  of  the 
people  of  Genoa  and  Lucca  coming  to  offer  their  homage  to 
Monsieur  Bonaparte  sitting  on  a  throne  and  accepting  the 

VOL-  1.  —  2. 


18  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

homage  of  nations.  Oh,  this  is  delicious !  No,  it  is  enough 
to  make  one  beside  one's  self.  You  would  think  the  whole 
world  had  gone  mad." 

Prince  Andrei  looked  straight  into  her  face  and  smiled. 

"  God  has  given  me  this  crown ;  beware  of  touching  it,"  he 
said  (these  were  Bonaparte's  words,  Dieu  me  la  danne,  gare  a 
qui  la  touche,  at  his  coronation).  "  They  say  he  was  very- 
handsome  as  he  pronounced  these  wordfi,"  he  added,  and  again 
repeated  them  in  Italian  :  —  "  Dio  mi  la  dona^  gual  a  chi  la 
tocaJ' 

"  I  hope,"  pursued  Anna  Pavlovna,  "  that  this  will  at  last 
be  the  drop  too  much.  The  sovereigns  caimot  longer  endure 
this  man  who  is  a  menace  to  each  and  every  one  of  them."  * 

"  The  sovereigns  ?  —  I  do  not  refer  to  Russia,"  said  the 
viscount  politely,  but  in  atone  of  despair:  —  "The  sovereigns, 
madame  ?  What  have  they  done  for  Louis  XVIIl.,  for  the 
Queen,  for  Madame  Elizabeth.  Nothing ! "  he  added,  becom- 
ing animated.  "  And,  believe  me,  they  are  suffering  their 
punishment  for  having  betrayed  the  cause  of  the  Bourbons. 
The  sovereigns  ?  They  sent  ambassadors  to  compliment  the 
usurper  I " 

And  with  an  exclamation  of  contempt,  he  again  changed  his 
position. 

Prince  Ippolit  who  had  been  long  contemplating  the  vis- 
count through  his  lorgnette,  suddenly  at  these  words  turned 
completely  round  to  the  little  princess,  and  asking  her  for  a 
needle  proceeded  to  show  her  what  the  escutcheon  of  Conde 
was,  scratching  it  with  the  needle  on  the  table.  He  inter- 
preted this  coat-of-arms  for  her  benefit,  with  such  a  business- 
like expression  that  one  would  have  supposed  the  princess 
had  asked  him  to  do  it  for  her. 

^^  Bdton  de  gueules,  engrele  de  gtteules  d^azur  —  matron 
Condi"  he  said.    The  princess  listened  with  a  smile. 

"If  Bonaparte  remains  a  year  longer  on  the  throne  of 
France,  things  will  have  gone  quite  too  far,"  said  the  viscount, 
still  pursuing  the  same  line  of  conversation,  like  a  man,  who 
without  regard  to  the  opinions  of  others,  and  considering  him- 
self the  best  informed  on  any  given  subject,  insists  on  follow- 
ing the  lead  of  his  own  thoughts.  By  intrigue,  violence, 
proscriptions  and  capital  punishment,  society,  I  mean  good 
society,  French  society,  will  be  utterly  destroyed,  and  then  "  — 

*  tPespere  enfin  que  fa  a  414  la  goutte  d*eau  qui  /era  d4border  la  verre. 
Lea  souverains  ne  petivent  plus  supporter  cet  homme  qui  menace  tout. 


WAR  AlfD  PSACe.  19 

He  shragged  his  shoulders  and  spread  open  his  hands. 
Pierre  was  about  to  put  in  a  word,  the  conversation  interested 
him,  but  Anna  Pavlovna,  who  was  on  the  watch,  broke  in,  — 

"  The  Emperor  Alexander,"  said  she,  with  the  melancholy 
which  always  accompanied  any  reference  to  the  imperial  fam> 
ily,  ^'has  declared  that  he  will  leave  it  to  the  French  them- 
selves to  choose  their  own  form  of  government.  And  it  is  my 
opinion  that  unquestionably  the  whole  nation,  when  once 
freed  from  the  usurper,  will  throw  itself  into  the  arms  of  its 
rightful  King,"  said  she,  striving  to  say  something  flattering 
for  the  emigre  and  Royalist. 

"  That  is  doubtful,"  said  Prince  Andrei.  "  Mmisieur  le  vicamte 
is  perfectly  right  when  he  remarks  that  things  have  already 
gone  too  far.  I  think  that  there  are  many  difficulties  in  the 
way  of  returning  to  the  old." 

"I  have  recently  heard"  remarked  Pierre,  again,  with  a 
flushed  face,  venturing  to  take  part  in  the  conversation^  '^  that 
almost  all  the  nobility  have  gone  over  to  Bonaparte."  . 

"  That  is  what  the  Bonapartists  say,"  replied  the  viscount, 
not  looking  at  Pierre.  '<  It  is  hard  nowadays  to  know  what 
the  public  opinion  of  France  really  is." 

"  Bonaparte  said  so,"  sneered  Prince  Andrei.  It  was  evi- 
dent that  the  viscount  did  not  please  him,  and  also  that  the 
latter  though  without  especially  addressing  him,  directed  all 
his  remarks  in  his  direction.  "'I  have  showed  them  the  path 
of  glory,' "  he  went  on,  after  a  moment's  silence,  again  quoting 
Napoleon's  words,  "  'and  they  would  not  enter  it ;  I  opened  my 
antechambers  to  them,  and  they  rushed  in  in  throngs.'*  I 
know  how  far  he  was  justified  in  saying  that." 

"  Not  in  the  least,"  said  the  viscount,  "  After  the  assassina- 
tion of  the  duke,  even  the  most  partial  ceased  to  look  on  him  as  a 
hero.  Even  if  he  has  been  a  hero  for  certain  people,"  continued 
the  viscount,  turning  to  Anna  Pavlovna,  "  since  the  assassina- 
tion of  the  duke  there  is  one  martyr  more  in  heaven,  and  one 
hero  less  on  earth." 

Anna  Pavlovna  and  the  others  had  not  time  to  reward  the 
viscount  with  a  smile  of  approval  for  his  words,  before  Pierre 
again  rushed  into  the  conversation,  and  Anna  Pavlovna, 
though  she  had  a  presentiment  that  he  would  say  something 
indecorous,  was  unable  to  restrain  him. 

"  The  punishment  of  the  I>uke  d'Enghien,"  said  Monsieur 
Pierre,  "  was  apolitical  necessity,  and  I  for  one  regard  it  as  mag- 

•  Je  lertr  ai  montri  le  chemin  de  la  glaire,  Us  n*en  ont  pa$  voulu ;  je  leur 
ai  ouvert  mes  antechambres,  Us  se  sont  precipii^s  en/oule. 


20  ^^^  ^iV2)  PEACE. 

nanimity  in  Napoleon  not  hesitating  to  assume  the  sole  respon- 
sibility of  this  act." 

^^IHeu  !  man  Dieu  /  ^  exclaimed  Anna  Pavlovna  in  a  whisper 
of  dismay. 

"  What,  Monsieur  Pierre !  you  see  magnanimity  in  assassina- 
tion ?"*  said  the  little  princess,  smiling  and  moving  her  work 
nearer  to  her. 

'<  Ah  I  Oh ! "  said  a  number  of  different  voices. 

<' Capital/'  said  Prince  Ippolit^  in  English,  and  he  began  to 
slap  his  knee  with  his  hand. 

The  viscount  merely  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

Pierre  looked  triumphantly  at  the  company  over  his  spec- 
tacles, '^  I  say  this/'  he  went  on  to  explain,  in  a  sort  of  desper- 
tion,  "  because  the  Bourbons  fled  from  the  revolution,  leaving 
their  people  a  prey  to  anarchy.  And  it  was  Napoleon  alone 
who  was  able  to  understand  the  revolution,  to  conquer  it,  and 
consequently,  when  the  good  of  all  was  in  the  balance,  he  could 
not  hesitate  before  the  life  of  a  single  individual." 

"  Don't  you  want  to  come  over  to  this  table  ?  "  suggested 
Anna  Pavlovna.  But  Pierre,  without  heeding  her,  went  on 
with  his  discourse. 

"  No,"  said  he,  growing  more  and  more  excited,  "  Napoleon 
is  great  because  he  stands  superior  to  the  revolution,  because 
he  has  crushed  out  its  abuses,  preserving  all  that  was  good  — 
the  equality  of  citizens,  and  freedom  of  speech,  and  the  press, 
and  that  was  the  only  way  that  he  gained  the  power." 

"Yes,  if,  when  he  gained  the  power,  instead  of  using  it 
for  assassination,  he  had  restored  it  to  the  legitimate  king," 
said  the  viscount,  ^'  then  I  should  have  called  him  a  great  man." 

"But  he  could  not  do  that.  The  power  was  granted  him 
by  the  people,  solely  that  he  might  deliver  them  from  the 
Bourbons,  and  because  they  saw  that  he  was  a  great  man. 
The  Revolution  was  a  mighty  fact,"  continued  Monsieur 
Pierre,  betraying  by  this  desperate  and  forced  proposition, 
his  extreme  youth,  and  his  propensity  to  speak  out  whatever 
was  in  his  mind. 

"Revolution  and  regicide  mighty  facts!  —  After  this  —  but 
will  you  not  come  over  to  this  table  ? "  insisted  Anna  Pav- 
lovna. 

" Rousseau's  Contrat  social"  suggested  the  viscount,  with  a 
benignant  smile. 

"  1  am  not  talking  about  regicide,  I  am  talking  about  the 
idea." 

*  Cwnment,  M.  Pierrtt  voxis  trouvez  que  Vassassinai  est  grandeur  d'omc. 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  21 

^Yes,  the  idea  of  pillage^  assassination,  and  legicide/' 
soggested  an  ironical  voice. 

"Those  are  the  extremes,  of  course,  and  the  real  signi* 
ficance  is  not  in  such  things,  but  in  the  rights  of  man, 
in  emancipation  from  prejudices,  in  equality  of  citizenship ; 
and  all  these  principles  Napoleon  has  preserved  in  all  their 
integrity." 

"Liberty  and  equality!'^  exclaimed  the  viscount,  scorn- 
fullyy  as  though  he  had  at  last  made  up  his  mind  seriously 
to  prove  to  this  young  man  all  the  foolishness  of  his  argu- 
ments. "All  high-sounding  words,  which  long  ago  were  shown 
to  be  dangerous.  Who  does  not  love  liberty  and  equality  ? 
Onr  Saviour  himself  preached  liberty  and  equality.  But  after 
the  Revolution  were  men  any  better  off  ?  On  the  contrary. 
We  wanted  freedom,  and  Bonaparte  has  destroyed  it." 

Prince  Andrei  with  a  smile  on  his  face,  looked  now  at  Pierre, 
now  at  the  viscount,  and  now  at  the  hostess.  During  the 
first  instant  of  Pierre's  outbreak,  Anna  Pavlovna  was  ap- 
palled, notwithstanding  her  experience  in  society :  but  when 
'she  saw  that  Pierre's  sacrilegious  utterances  did  not  make 
the  viscount  lose  his  temper,  and  when  she  became  convinced 
that  it  was  impossible  to  check  them,  she  collected  her  forces, 
and  taking  the  viscount's  side,  she  attacked  the  young  orator. 

"  MaiSf  man  eher  Monsieur  Pierre,"  said  Anna  Pavlovna, 
"  how  can  you  call  a  man  great  who  can  put  to  death  a  duke, 
simply  a  man,  when  you  come  to  analyze  it,  without  trial  and 
without  cause  ?  " 

"  I  should  like  to  ask,"  said  the  viscount,  "  how  monsieur 
explains  the  Eighteenth*  Brumaire.  Was  it  not  a  fraud  ?  It 
was  a  piece  of  trickery  wholly  unlike  what  a  great  man  could 
have  done.''* 

"And  the  prisoners  in  Africa,  whom  he  killed  ?  "  suggested 
the  little  princess.  "  That  was  horrible ! "  and  she  shrugged 
her  shoulders. 

"  Cest  un  roturieTy  vaus  aurez  beau  dire,'*  t 

Monsieur  Pierre  did  not  know  which  one  to  answer;  he 
looked  at  them  all  and  smiled.  His  smile  was  unlike  other 
men's,  falsely  compounded  of  seriousness.  Whenever  a  smile 
came  on  his  face,  then  suddenly,  like  a  flash,  all  the  serious 
and  even  stem  expression  vanished,  and  in  its  place  came 
another,  genial,  frsuik,  and  like  that  of  a  child  asking  for- 
giveness. 

*  C*est  un  escctmotage  qui  ne  res$emble  nuUement  a  la  maniere  d*agir  d*vn 
grand  homnw. 

t  He  is  a  low  fellow,  whatever  you  may  say. 


22  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

The  viscount,  who  had  never  seen  this  young  Jacobin  be- 
fore, recognized  clearly  that  he  was  not  nearly  as  terrible  as 
his  words. 

All  were  silent. 

"  How  can  you  expect  him  to  answer  all  of  you  at  once  ?  " 
said  Prince  Andrei.  "  Besides,  in  the  actions  of  a  statesman, 
one  must  distinguish  the  actions  of  a  private  individual,  a 
general,  or  an  emperor.     It  seems  to  me  so." 

"  Yes,  yes,  of  course,"  put  in  Pierre,  delighted  at  this  rati- 
fication of  his  ideas. 

"It  is  impossible  not  to  acknowledge,"  pursued  Prince 
Andrei,  "that  Napoleon  was  great  as  a  man  on  the  bridge 
at  Areola,  or  in  the  hospital  at  Jaffa,  when  he  shook  hands 
with  the  plague-stricken  soldiers,  but — but  there  are  other 
actions  of  his  which  it  is  hard  to  justify." 

Prince  Andrei,  who  had  evidently  been  desirous  of  smooth- 
ing over  Pierre's  awkwardness,  got  up,  with  the  intention  of 
leaving,  and  giving  his  wife  the  hint. 

Suddenly,  Prince  Ippolit  arose,  and  with  a  gesture  of  his 
hand  detaining  the  company,  and  begging  them  to  be  seated, 
he  went  on  on  to  say,  — 

*^Ah!  aujourd'hui  on  m'a  racontS  une  anecdote  moscomte 
charmante ;  il  faut  que  je  vous  en  regale.  Vous  m'excu^erezy 
vicomte,  il  faut  que  je  raconte  en  Russe,  Autrement,  on  ne 
sentera  pas  le  sel  de  Vhistoire^  * 

And  Prince  Ippolit  began  to  speak  in  Kussian,  with  much 
the  same  fluency  as  Prenchmen  who  have  spent  a  year  in 
Russia,  usually  attain.  All  stopped  to  listen,  because  Prince 
Ippolit  had  been  so  strenuously  urgent  in  attracting  their 
attention  to  his  story. 

"In  Moscow  there  is  a  lady,  une  dame,  and  she  is  very 
miserly.  She  has  to  have  two  t^alets  de  place  behind  her 
carriage.  And  very  tall  ones.  That  was  her  hobby. .  And 
she  had  une  femme  de  chambre,  who  was  also  very  tall.  She 
said"  — 

Here  Prince  Ippolit  paused  to  think,  evidently  at  a  loss  to 
collect  his  wits. 

"She  said, — yes,  she  said,  'Girl  (d,  la  femme  de  chamhre) 
put  on  a  livery  and  go  with  me,  behind  the  carriage,  faire  des 
visites.' " 

*  Oh,  I  was  told  to-day  such  a  charming  Russian  story.  I  must  give  you 
the  benefit  of  it.  You  wiU  excuse  me,  viscount,  I  must  teU  it  in  Kussian. 
Otherwise,  the  flavor  of  the  story  will  be  lost. 


WAR  AND  PEACE,  28 

Here  Prince  Ippolit  burst  out  into  a  regular  guffaw,  and  his 
laugh  so  completely  failed  to  be  echoed  by  his  hearers  that  it 
produced  a  very  disheartening  effect  upon  the  narrator.  How- 
ever a  few,  including  the  elderly  lady  and  Anna  Pavlovna, 
smiled. 

"  She  drove  off.  Suddenly  a  strong  wind  blew  up.  The 
girl  lost  her  hat  and  her  long  hair  came  down." 

Here  he  could  not  hold  in  any  longer,  but  through  his 
bursts  of  broken  laughter  he  managed  to  say  these  words,  — 

"  And  every  one  knew  about  it." 

That  was  the  end  of  the  anecdote.  Although  it  was  incom- 
prehensible why  he  told  it,  and  why  he  felt  called  upon 
to  tell  it  in  Russian  rather  than  French,  still  Anna  Pav- 
lovna and  the  others  appreciated  Prince  Ippolit^s  cleverness 
in  so  agreeably  putting  an  end  to  Monsieur  Pierre's  disagree- 
able and  stupid  freak. 

The  company,  after  the  anecdote,  broke  up  into  little  groups, 
busUy  engaged  in  the  insignificant  small  talk  about  some  ball 
that  had  been  or  some  ball  that  was  to  be,  or  the  theatre,  or 
when  and  where  they  should  meet  again. 


CHAPTER  V. 

CoNGRATUiiATiNG  Anna  Pavlovna  on  what  they  called  her 
eharmante  soireey  the  guests  began  to  take  their  departure. 

Pierre,  as  has  been  already  said,  was  awkward.  Stout,  of 
more  than  the  average  height,  broad  shouldered,  with  huge 
red  hands,  he  had  no  idea  of  the  proper  way  to  enter  a  draw- 
ing-room, and  still  less  the  proper  way  of  making  his  exit ;  in 
other  words  he  did  not  know  how  to  make  some  especially 
agreeable  remark  to  his  hostess  before  taking  his  leave. 
Moreover  he  was  absent-minded.  He  got  up,  and  instead  of 
taking  his  own  cap,  he  seized  the  plumed  three-cornered  hat 
of  some  general,  and  held  it,  pulling  at  the  feathers  until  the 
general  came  and  asked  him  to  surrender  it.  But  all  his 
absent-mindedness  and  clumsinciss  about  entering  a  drawing- 
room,  and  his  zeal  in  putting  forward  his  own  ideas  were 
redeemed  by  his  expression  of  genuine  goodness,  simplicity, 
and  modesty. 

Anna  Pavlovna  turned  to  him,  and  with  Christian  sweetness 
expressing  her  forgiveness  for  his  behavior,  nodded  to  him, 
and  said,  — 

<'I  shall  hope  to  see  you  again,  but  I  shall  hope  also  that 


24  W^R  ^NI>  PEACE, 

yoa  will  change  your  opinions,  my  dear  Monsieur  Pierre," 
said  she. 

He  could  find  no  words  to  answer  her ;  he  only  bowed,  and 
again  they  all  saw  his'smUe,  which  really  said  nothing,  except 
this  :  '  opinions  are  opinions,  and  you  can  see  what  a  good  and 
noble  young  man  I  am.''  And  all,  Anna  Pavlovna  included, 
could  not  help  feeling  that  this  was  so. 

Prince  Andrei  went  into  the  entry,  allowed  the  lackey  to 
throw  his  mantle  over  his  shoulders,  and  with  cool  indiffer- 
ence listened  to  the  chatter  of  his  wife  and  Prince  Ippolit, 
who  had  also  come  into  the  entry. 

Prince  Ippolit  stood  near  the  pretty  little  princess,  and 
stared  straight  at  her  through  his  eyeglasses. 

"Go  back,  Annette,  you  will  take  cold,"  said  the  little 
princess,  by  way  of  farewell  to  Anna  Pavlovna.  "  It  is  all 
understood,"  she  added,  in  an  undertone. 

Anna  Pavlovna  had  already  had  a  chance  to  speak  a  woixl 
with  Lisa  in  regard  to  the  suggested  match  between  Anatol 
and  the  little  princess's  sister-in-law. 

"  I  shall  depend  upon  you,  my  dear,"  said  Anna  Pavlovna, 
also  in  an  undertone.  "  You  write  to  her  and  tell  me  co^m- 
ment  lepere  envisage!^  la  chose  —  how  the  father  will  look  at 
it.     Au  revoirJ^    And  she  went  back  from  the  entry. 

Prince  Ippolit  came  to  the  little  princess,  and  bending  his 
face  down  close  to  her  began  to  talk  to  her  in  a  half-whisper. 

Two  lackeys,  one  the  princess's,  holding  her  shawl,  the 
other  his,  with  his  overcoat,  stood  waiting  until  they  should 
finish  talking  and  listened  to  their  chatter,  which  being  in 
French  was  incomprehensible,  but  their  faces  seemed  to  say, 
"  We  understand,  but  we  do  not  care  to  show  it." 

The  princess,  as  always,  smiled  as  she  spoke,  and  listened, 
laughing  gayly. 

"  I  am  very  glad  that  I  did  not  go  to  the  ambassador's,"  said 
Prince  Ippolit,  "  a  bore "  —  we've  had  a  lovely  evening, 
haven't  we,  a  lovely  evening." 

"  They  say  it  will  be  a  very  fine  ball,"  replied  the  princess, 
curling  her  downy  lip.  "All  the  pretty  women  in  society 
will  be  there." 

"Not  all,  because  you  are  not  there,  certainly  not  all,"  said 
Prince  Ippolit,  gayly  laughing,  and  taking  the  shawl  from  the 
servant,  he  even  pushed  him  away  and  began  to  wrap  it  round 
the  princess.  Either  through  awkwardness  or  intentionally, 
(no  one  could  tell  which),  it  was  a  long  time  before  he  took 
his  arms  away  from  her  even  after  the  shawl  was  well  wrapped 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  26 

round  her,  and  he  seemed  almost  to  be  embracing  the  young 
woman. 

She  gracefully,  and  with  a  smile  on  her  lips,  drew  back  a 
little,  turned  around  and  glanced  at  her  husband.  Prince 
Andrei's  eyes  were  closed ;  he  seemed  so  tired  and  sleepy  ! 

"  Are  you  ready  ? "  he  asked,  giving  his  wife  a  hasty 
glance. 

Prince  Ippolit  hastily  put  on  his  overcoat,  which  being  in 
the  latest  style  came  to  his  heels,  and  stumbling  along  in  it 
rushed  to  the  steps  after  the  princess,  whom  the  lackey  was 
assisting  into  the  carriage. 

^  Princesse,  au  revoir,^^  he  cried,  his  tongue  as  badly  en- 
tangled as  his  feet. 

The  princess  gathering  up  her  dress,  took  her  seat  in  the 
darkness  of  the  carriage ;  her  husband  w;us  arranging  his 
sword ;  Prince  Ippolit,  in  his  efforts  to  be  of  assistance,  was 
in  everybody's  way. 

"  Excuse  me,  sir,"  said  Prince  Andrei  in  Russian,  in  a  cold, 
disagreeable  tone,  addressing  Ippolit  who  stood  in  his  way. 

"  I  shall  expect  you,  Pierre,"  said  the  same  voice,  but  warmly 
and  affectionately. 

The  postillion  whipped  up  the  horses  and  the  carriage 
rolled  noisily  away. 

Prince  Ippolit  laughed  spasmodically,  as  he  stood  on  the 
steps,  waiting  for  the  viscount  whom  he  had  promised  to  take 
home. 

^*  Eh  bietiy  man  cher,  voire  petite  prtncesse  est  tres  bien,  fres 
bien,"  said  the  viscount,  as  he  took  his  seat  in  the  carriage 
with  Ippolit,  ^^Mais  tres  bien"  He  kissed  the  tips  of  his 
fingers. 

**  £t  tout-a-fait  frangaise," 

Ippolit  roared  with  laughter. 

"And  do  you  know,  you  are  terrible  with  your  little  inno- 
cent ways,"  continued  the  viscount.  "  I  pity  the  poor  hus- 
band, —  that  little  officer  who  puts  on  the  airs  of  a  reigning 
prince." 

Ippolit  again  went  off  into  a  burst  of  laughter,  through 
which  he  managed  to  articulate,  — 

"And  yet  you  were  saying  that  the  Russian  ladies  were  not 
anywhere  equal  to  the  French  ladies !  One  must  be  able  to 
show  a  little  skill." 

Pierre,  being  the  first  to  reach  the  house,  went  into  Prince 
Andrei's  own  room,  like  one  thoroughly  at  home,  and  imme- 


26  WAR  AND  PEACE, 

diately  stretching  himself  out  on  the  sofa,  as  his  habit  was, 
took  up  the  first  book  that  he  found  on  the  shelf  —  it  was 
Caesar's  Commentaries  —  and  leaning  on  his  elbow  began  to 
read  in  the  middle  of  the  volume. 

"  What  have  you  been  doing  to  Mile.  Scherer  ?  She  will  be 
quite  laid  up  now,"  said  Prince  Andrei,  coming  into  the  room 
and  rubbing  his  small  white  hands  together. 

Pierre  turned  over  with  his  whole  body,  making  the  sofa 
creak,  looked  up  at  Prince  Andrei  with  his  eager  face,  smiled 
and  waved  his  hand. 

"  No,"  said  he,  "  that  abbe  is  very  interesting,  only  he  does 
not  understand  the  matter  aright.  —  In  my  opinion,  permanent 
peju»c  is  possible,  biit  1  cannot  tell  how — certainly  not 
through  the  balance  of  power." 

Prince  Andrei  was  evidently  not  interested  in  these  abstract 
questions. 

"  It  is  impossible,  rnon  cker,  always  and  everywhere  to  say 
what  you  think.  But  have  you  come  to  any  final  decision  yet 
as  to  your  career  ?  Will  you  be  a  horse  g^iardsman  or  a  diplo- 
mat ?  "  asked  Prince  Andrei,  after  a  moment's  silence. 

Pierre  sat  up  on  the  sofa,  doubling  his  legs  under  him. 

''Can  you  imagine,  I  have  not  as  yet  the  slightest  idea. 
Neither  the  one,  nor  the  other  pleases  me." 

"But  see  here,  you  must  come  to  some  decision.  Your 
father  is  waiting." 

Pierre  at  the  age  of  ten  had  been  sent  abroad,  with  an  abbe 
for  a  tutor,  and  had  remained  there  till  he  was  twenty.  On 
his  return  to  Moscow,  his  father  dismissed  the  abb6  and  said 
to  the  young  man,  — 

"Now  go  to  Petersburg,  look  about,  and  take  your  choice. 
I  give  my  consent  to  anything.  Here  is  a  letter  to  Prince 
Vasili,  and  here  is  money  for  you.  Write  me  about  every- 
thing, and  I  will  help  you  in  any  way." 

Pierre  had  been  trying  for  three  months  to  choose  a  career, 
and  had  not  succeeded.  It  was  in  regard  to  this  choice  that 
Prince  Andrei  spoke.     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,"  said  Prince  Andrei,  again  stopping 
him  short,  "  Let  us  talk  about  your  affairs.  Have  you  been 
to  the  Horse  Guards  ?  " 

"No,  not  yet,  but  here  is  an  idea  that  occurred  tome  and  I 
wanted  to  tell  you ;  now  there  is  war  gainst  Napoleon.  If  it 
had  been  a  war  for  freedom,  I  should  have  taken  part,  I  should 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  27 

hsLve  been  the  first  to  enter  the  military  service ;  but  to  help 
England  and  Austria  against  the  greatest  man  in  the  world, 
that  is  not  good.'^ 

Prince  Andrei  merely  shrugged  his  shoulders  at  Pierre's  child- 
ish talk.  He  made  believe  that  it  was  impossible  to  reply  to 
such  stupidities^  but  in  reality  it  was  diiticult  to  answer  this 
naiye  question  in  any  other  way  than  Prince  Andrei  did 
answer  it. 

^'If  all  men  made  war  only  for  their  convictions,  there 
wouldn't  be  any  war,"  said  he. 

"  That  would  be  splendid,"  said  Pierre. 

Prince  Andrei  laughed. 
Very  likely  that  would  be  splendid,  but  it  will  never  be." 
Now,  why  are  you  going  to  w^ar  ?  "  asked  Pierre. 

"  Why  ?  I'm  sure  I  don't  know.  It  must  be  so.  Besides, 
Fm  going"  —  He  paused.  "1  am  going  because  the  life 
which  I  lead  here,  my  life,  is  not  to  my  mind." 


CHAPTER  VI. 

The  rustle  of  a  woman's  dress  was  heard  in  the  adjoining 
room.  As  though  caught  napping,  Prince  Andrei  shook  him- 
self, and  his  face  assumed  the  same  expression  which  it  had 
worn  in  Anna  Pavlovna's  drawing-room. 

Pierre  set  his  feet  down  from  the  sofa. 

The  princess  came  in.  She  had  already  changed  her  dress 
for  another,  a  wrapper  to  be  sure,  but  equally  fresh  and  ele- 
gant. 

Prince  Andrei  got  up  and  courteously  pushed  forward  an 
easv-chair. 

"  Why  is  it,  I  often  wonder,"  she  remarked,  speaking  as 
always  in  French,  and  at  the  same  time  briskly  and  spryly 
sitting  down  in  the  easy-chair,  "  Why  is  it  that  Annette  never 
married.  How  stupid  you  all  are,  messieurs,  that  you  never 
married  her.  You  will  excuse  me  for  saying  so,  but  you  have 
not  the  slightest  comprehension  of  women.  What  an  arguer 
you  are,  Monsieur  Pierre." 

"  Your  husband  and  I  were  just  this  moment  arguing.  I 
cannot  understand  why  he  wants  to  go  to  war,"  said  Pierre, 
turning  to  the  princess  without  any  of  the  embarrassment  so 
commonly  shown  in  the  relations  of  a  young  mau  toward  a 
young  woman. 


28  WAR   AND  PEACE. 

The  princess  gave  a  start.  Evidently  Pierre's  words  touched 
her  to  the  quick. 

"  Ah,  that  is  exactly  what  I  say  I "  said  she.  "  I  do  not 
understand,  really  I  do  not  understand  why  men  cannot  live 
without  war.  Why  is  it  that  we  women  .wish  nothing  and 
need  nothing  ?  Now  you  be  the  judge.  I  will  tell  him  just 
as  it  is :  here  he  is  adjutant  to  uncle,  a  most  brilliant 
position.  Everybody  knows  him.  Everybody  esteems  him. 
The  other  day  at  the  Apraksin's  I  heard  a  lady  asking :  *  Cest 
ga  la  fameux  Prince  Andre? ^  Ma  parole  (Thonneury^  —  she 
began  to  laugh  —  "  he  is  received  so  everywhere.  He  might 
very  easily  be  even  fligel-adjutant.  You  kuow  his  majesty 
talks  very  cordially  with  him.  Annette  and  I  have  talked  it 
all  over ;  it  might  be  very  easily  arranged.  What  do  you 
think  ?  " 

Pierre  glanced  at  Prince  Andrei,  and  seeing  that  this  con- 
versation did  not  please  his  friend,  made  no  reply  to  her. 

"  When  are  you  going  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Ah !  don't  speak  of  going,  don't  speak  of  it.  I  do  not 
w^ish  to  hear  a  word  of  it ! "  *  exclaimed  the  princess,  in  the 
same  capriciously  vivacious  tone  in  which  she  had  spoken  to 
Ippolit.  It  was  obviously  out  of  place  in  the  family  circle,  in 
which  Pierre  was  an  adopted  member. 

"  To-day  when  it  came  over  me  that  I  had  to  break  off  from 
all  these  pleasant  relations — and  then,  you  know,  Andre"  — 
She  blinked  her  eyes  significantly  at  her  husband.  "  tTai  peur, 
fai2>eur"  she  whispered. 

A  shiver  ran  down  her  back. 

Her  husband  looked  at  her  with  a  surprised  expression,  as 
though  for  the  first  time  he  had  noticed  that  any  one  besides 
himself  and  Pierre  had  come  into  the  room.  Then  with  a  cool 
politeness  he  addressed  his  wife  inquiringly,  — 

"  What  is  it  that  you  are  afraid  of,  Lisa.  I  cannot  under- 
stand," said  he. 

"  Now  how  selfish  all  you  men  are,  all,  all  selfish.  Simply 
from  his  own  whim,  Grod  knows  why,  he  deserts  me,  shuts  me 
up  in  the  country  alone." 

"  With  my  father  and  sister,  don't  forget  that,"  said  Prince 
Andrei,  gently. 

"  All  alone,  just  the  same,  away  from  mi/  friends  —  and  he 
expects  me  not  to  be  afraid." 

Her  tone  grew  querulous ;  her  lip  was  lifted,  making  the  ex- 

*  Ah!  ne  me  parlez  pas  de  ce  depart, ne  m*en parlez pa9'  Je  ne  venx pas 
en  entendre  parler. 


Si 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  29 

piession  of  her  face  not  mirthful  but  repulsive  and  like  a 
squirrel's.  She  paused,  as  though  she  regarded  it  as  indecorous 
to  speak  of  her  condition  before  Pierre^  though  this  was  the 
real  secret  of  her  fear. 

"And  still  I  do  not  understand  why  votis  avez  peur,^ 
drawled  Prince  Andrei,  letting  his  eyes  rest  on  his  wife. 

The  princess  blushed  and  spread  open  her  hscnds  with  a 
gesture  of  despair. 

"JVItm,  Andre f  je  dis  que  vous  avez  tellementj  telleinent 
change.^^ 

"Your  doctor  bids  you  go  to  bed  earlier,"  said  Prince 
Andrei.     "  You  had  better  retire." 

The  princess  made  no  answer,  and  suddenly  her  short  downy 
lip  trembled ;  Prince  Andrei,  shrugging  his  shoulders,  got  up 
and  began  to  walk  up  and  down  the  room. 

Pierre  gazed  through  his  glasses  with  naive  curiosity,  first 
at  him  then  at  the  princess,  and  made  a  motion  as  though  he 
also  would  get  up,  but  then  changed  his  mind. 

"  What  difference  does  it  make  to  me  if  Monsieur  Pierre  is 
here ! "  suddenly  exclaimed  the  little  princess,  and  her  pretty 
face  at  the  same  time  was  contracted  into  a  tearful  grimace. 
"  I  have  been  wanting  for  a  long  time  to  ask  you,  Andre,  why 
you  have  changed  toward  me  so  ?  What  have  I  done  to  you  ? 
You  are  going  to  the  armv,  you  are  not  sorry  for  me  at  all. 
Why  is  it  ?  " 

"  Lise  ! "  exclaimed  Prince  Andrei,  but  this  one  word  car- 
ried an  entreaty,  a  threat,  and  above  all  a  conviction  that  she 
herself  would  regret  what  she  had  said ;  but  she  went  on  hur- 
riedly, — 

"  You  treat  me  as  though  I  were  ill  or  a  child,  I  see  it  all. 
You  were  not  so  six  months  ago." 

"  Lise,  I  beg  of  you  to  stop,"  said  Prince  Andrei,  still  more 
earnestly. 

Pierre,  growing  more  and  more  stirred  as  this  conversation 
proceeded,  arose  and  went  to  the  princess.  He  could  not,  it 
seemed,  endure  the  sight  of  tears,  and  he  himself  was  ready 
to  weep. 

"  Calm  yourself,  princess.  This  is  only  your  fancy,  because, 
I  assure  you,  I  myself  have  experienced  —  and  so  —  because. 
No,  excuse  me,  a  stranger  is  in  the  way.  No,  calm  yourself, 
good-by." 

Prince  Andrei  detained  him,  taking  him  by  the  arm,  — 

"  No,  stay  Pierre.  The  princess  is  so  kind  that  she  will  not 
have  the  heart  to  deprive  me  of  the  pleasure  of  spending  the 
evening  with  you." 


30  WAR  AND  PEACE, 

"  Yes,  lie  only  thinks  about  his  own  pleasure  ! "  exclaimed  the 
princess,  not  restraining  her  angry  tears. 

"Lise,"  said  Prince  Andrei,  dryly,  raising  his  voice  sufB.- 
ciently  to  show  that  his  patience  was  exhausted. 

Suddenly  the  angry,  squirrel-like  expression  on  the  prin- 
cess's pretty  little  face  changed  to  one  of  alarm,  both  fascinat- 
ing and  provocative  of  sympathy ;  her  beautiful  eyes  looked 
from  under  her  long  lashes  at  her  husband,  and  there  came 
into  her  face  that  timid  look  of  subjection  such  as  a  dog  has 
when  it  wags  its  drooping  tail  quickly  but  doubtfully. 

"  Man  Dieu !  Mo7i  Dleu  I "  muttered  the  princess,  and 
gathering  up  the  skirt  of  her  dress  with  one  hand,  she  went 
to  her  husband  and  kissed  him  on  the  forehead. 

"  Bon  soivy  Lise,"  said  Prince  Andrei,  getting  up  and  cour- 
teously kissing  her  hand  as  though  she  were  a  stranger. 

The  friends  were  silent.  Neither  the  one  nor  the  other  felt 
like  being  the  first  to  speak.  Pierre  looked  at  Prince  Andrei ; 
Prince  Andrei  rubbed  his  forehead  with  his  slender  hand. 

"  Let  us  have  some  supper,"  said  he,  with  a  sigh,  getting  up 
and  going  to  the  door. 

•  They  went  into  the  elegant  dining-room,  newly  furnished  in 
the  richest  style.  Everything,  from  the  napkins  to  the  silver, 
the  faience,  and  the  glassware,  had  that  peculiar  imprint  of 
newness  which  is  characteristic  of  the  establishment  of  a 
young  couple. 

In  the  midst  of  supper.  Prince  Andrei  leaned  forward  on 
his  elbows,  and,  like  a  man  who  has  for  a  long  time  had  some- 
thing on  his  heart  and  suddenly  determines  to  confess  it,  he 
began  to  talk  with  an  expression  of  nervous  exasperation  such 
as  Pierre  had  never  before  beheld  in  his  friend,  — 

"  Never,  never  get  married,  my  friend  !  This  is  my  advice 
to  you.  Do  not  marry  until  you  have  come  to  the  conclusion 
that  you  have  done  all  that  is  in  your  power  to  do  and  until 
you  have  ceased  to  love  the  woman  whom  you  have  chosen, 
until  you  have  seen  clearly  what  she  is ;  otherwise,  you  will 
ma.ke  a  sad  and  irreparable  mistake.  When  you  are  old  and 
good  for  nothing,  then  get  married.  —  Otherwise,  all  that  is 
good  and  noble  in  you  will  be  thrown  away.  All  will  be 
wasted  in  trifles.  Yes,  yes,  yes  !  Don't  look  at  me  in  such 
amazement.  If  ever  you  have  any  hope  of  anything  ahead  of 
you,  you  will  be  made  to  feel  at  every  step  that,  as  far  as  you 
are  concerned,  all  is  at  an  end,  all  closed  to  you,  except  the 
drawing-room,  where  you  will  rank  with  court  lackeys  and 
idiots.  —  That's  a  fact ! " 


WAR  AND  PEACE,  81 

He  made  an  energetic  wave  of  his  hand. 

Pierre  took  off  his  spectacles,  and  this  made  his  face,  as  he 
gazed  in  amazement  at  his  friend,  even  more  expressive  than 
usual  of  his  goodness  of  heart. 

"  My  wife,"  continued  Prince  Andrei,  "  is  a  lovely  woman. 
She  is  one  of  those  few  women  to  whom  one  can  feel  tha,t  his 
honor  is  safely  entrusted ;  but,  my  God !  what  would  I  not 
give  at  this  moment  if  I  were  not  married  !  You  are  the  first 
and  only  person  to  whom  I  have  whispered  this,  and  it  is 
because  I  love  you." 

Prince  Andrei,  in  saying  this,  was  still  less  like  the  Bolkon- 
sky  who,  that  same  evening,  had  been  comfortably  ensconced  in 
Anna  Pavlovna's  easy-chairs,  and  murmuring  French  phrases 
as  he  blinked  his  eyes.  Every  muscle  in  his  spare  face  was 
quivering  with  nervous  animation  ;  his  eyes,  in  which  before 
the  fire  of  life  seemed  to  be  extinguished,  now  gleamed  with 
a  fierce  and  intense  brilliancy.  It  was  evident  that,  however 
lacking  in  life  he  might  appear  in  ordinary  circumstances,  he 
more  than  made  up  for  it  by  his  energy  at  moments  of  almost 
morbid  excitability. 

"  You  cannot  understand  why  I  say  this  to  you,"  he  went 
on.  "  Why,  it  is  the  whole  history  of  a  life.  You  talk  about 
Bonaparte  and  his  career,"  said  he,  although  Pierre  had  not 
said  a  word  about  Bonaparte.  "  You  talk  about  Bonaparte, 
but  Bonaparte,  when-  he  was  toiling,  went  step  by  step  straight 
for  his  goal  ;  he  was  free ;  he  let  nothing  stand  between  him 
and  his  goal,  and  he  reached  it.  But  tie  yourself  to  a  woman 
and  your  whole  freedom  is  destroyed,  as  though  you  were  a 
prisoner  in  chains.  And  in  proportion  as  you  feel  that  you 
have  ambition  and  powers,  the  more  you  will  be  weighed  down 
and  tormented  with  regrets.  Drawing-rooms,  tittle  tattle, 
balls,  vulgar  show,  meanness,  —  such  is  the  charmed  circle 
from  which  it  is  impossible  for  me  to  make  my  escape.  I  am 
now  getting  ready  to  take  part  in  the  war,  in  tlie  greatest  war 
that  ever  was,  and  yet  I  know  nothing  and  am  fit  for  notliinj;. 
Je  8uis  tres  aimable  et  tres  caustiqtiey"  continued  Prince  Andrei, 
"and  at  Anna  Pavlovna's  they  hang  upon  my  lips.  And  this 
stupid  society,  without  which  my  wife  cannot  live,  and  these 
women.  —  If  you  could  only  know  what  tmites  les  femmes  dis- 
tingiiees  and  women  in  general  amount  to !  My  father  is  right. 
Egotism,  ostentation,  stupidity,  meanness  in  every  respect  — 
such  are  women  when  they  show  tliemselves  in  tlieir  real  light. 
You  see  them  in  society  and  think  that  they  amount  to  some- 
thing, but  they  are  naught,  naught,  naught !     Ko,  don't  marry, 


82  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

my  dear  heart,  don't  many,"  said  Prince  Andrei  in  conclu- 
sion. 

"It  seems  ridiculous  to  me,"  said  Pierre,  "that  you  should 
regard  yourself  as  incapable  and  your  life  as  spoiled.  Every- 
thing is  before  you  —  everything.     And  you  "  — 

He  did  not  finish  his  sentence,  but  his  very  tone  made  it 
evident  how  highly  he  prized  his  friend  and  how  much  he 
expected  from  him  in  the  future. 

"  How  can  he  speak  so ! "  thought  Pierre,  who  considered 
Prince  Andrei  the  model  of  all  accomplishments,  for  the  very 
reason  that  Prince  Andrei  united  in  himself  to  the  highest 
degree,  all  those  qualities  that  were  lacking  in  Pierre,  and 
which  more  nearly  than  aught  else  can  express  the  concept : 
will-power. 

Pierre  always  admired  Prince  Andrei's  ability  to  meet  with 
perfect  ease  all  sorts  of  people,  his  extraordinary  memory,  his 
breadth  of  knowledge,  —  he  had  read  everything,  he  knew 
about  everything,  he  had  ideas  on  every  subject,  —  and,  above 
all,  his  powers  of  work  and  study.  And  if  Pierre  was  often 
struck  by  Andrei's  lack  of  siptitude  for  speculative  philosophy 
—  which  was  his  own  specialty  —  he  at  least  regarded  it  not 
as  a  fault  but  as  a  sign  of  strength. 

In  all  the  best  relations,  however  friendly  and  simple,  flat- 
tery or  praise  is  indispensable,  just  as  grease  is  indispensable 
for  making  wheels  move  easily. 

"Je  suis  tin  homrne  fini,^^  said  Prince  Andrei.  "What  is 
there  to  say  about  me  !  Let  us  talk  about  yourself,"  said  he, 
after  a  short  silence,  and  smiling  at  his  consoling  thoughts. 
This  smile  was  instantly  reflected  on  Pierre's  face. 

"  But  what  is  there  to  be  said  about  me,"  asked  Pierre,  his 
lips  parting  in  a  careless,  merry  smile.  "What  am  I,  any 
way  ?     Je  suis  un  hdtard  I " 

And  suddenly  a  purple  flush  dyed  his  cheeks.  It  was  evi- 
dent that  he  had  exerted  great  effort  to  say  that.  "Sans  nom, 
sans  fortune.  —  And  yet  it  is  true."  He  did  not  say  what  was 
true.  "  I  am  free  for  the  present,  and  I  like  it.  ( hily  I  don't 
know  what  to  take  up  next.  I  should  like  to  have  a  serious 
talk  with  you  on  the  subject." 

Prince  Andrei  looked  at  him  with  kindly  eyes.  But  in  his 
glance,  friendly  and  flattering  as  it  was,  there  was  betrayed 
the  consciousness  of  his  superiority. 

"  I  am  fond  of  you,  especially  for  the  reason  that  you  are 
the  only  living  man  in  all  our  circle.  You  are  happy.  Choose 
whatever  you  like,  it  is  all  the  same.     You  will  be  happy  any- 


K 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  3S 

where ;  but  there's  one  thing.  Stop  going  to  those  Kuragins 
and  leading  their  kind  of  life.  That  sort  of  thing  does  not 
become  you :  all  those  revels^  that  wild  life,  and  all "  — 

"Que  voulez  vous,  mon  cheTy'*  exclaimed  Pierre,  shrugging 
his  shoulders,  "Les  femmeBj  man  eher,  lesfemTnesf" 

"I  don't  understand  it/'  replied  Andrei.  "Les  femmes 
eomme  U  fauty  that  is  another  thing,  but  such  as  have  to 
do  with  Kuragin,  les  femTnes  et  le  vin,  I  can't  understand  it." 

Pierre  had  been  living  at  Prince  Vasili  Kuragin's,  and  had 
been  taking  part  in  the  dissipated  life  of  his  son  Anatol,  the 
very  same  young  man  to  whom  it  had  been  proposed  to  marry 
Prince  Andrei's  sister  in  order  to  reform  him. 

"  Do  you  know,"  said  Pierre,  as  though  a  happy  thought 
had  come  unexpectedly  into  his  mind,  — "  Seriously,  I  have 
been  thinking  about  it  for  some  time.  Since  I  have  been 
leading  this  sort  of  life,  I  have  not  been  able  to  think  or  to 
come  to  any  decision.  My  head  aches;  I  have  no  money. 
This  evening  he  invited  me,  but  I  did  not  go. 

"  Give  me  your  word  of  honor  that  you  will  not  go  with  him 
again." 

"  Here's  my  word  on  it  I " 


CHAPTER  VII. 

It  was  already  two  o'clock,  when  Pierre  left  his  friend.  It 
was  a  luminous  June  night,  characteristic  of  Petersburg. 
Pierre  took  his  seat  in  the  hired  carriage,  with  the  intention 
of  going  home,  but  the  farther  he  rode  the  more  impossible  he 
found  it  to  think  of  sleeping  on  such  a  night,  which  was  more 
like  twilight  or  early  morning.  He  could  see  far  down  through 
the  empty  streets.  On  the  way  it  occurred  to  him  that  the 
gambling  club  were  to  meet  as  usual  that  evening  at  Anatoli 
Kuragin's,  after  which  they  were  accustomed  to  have  a  drinking 
bout,  topping  off  with  one  of  Pierre's  favorite  entertainments. 

"It  would  be  good  fun  to  go  to  Kuragin's,"  said  he  to 
himself,  but  instantly  he  remembered  that  he  had  given  Prince 
Andrei  his  word  of  honor  not  to  go  there  again. 

But,  as  it  happens  to  men  of  no  strength  of  character,  this 
was  immediately  followed  by  such  a  violent  desire  to  have 
one  more  last  taste  of  this  dissipated  life,  so  well  known  to 
him,  that  he  determined  to  go.  And,  in  excuse  for  it,  the 
thought  entered  his  mind  that  his  promise  was  not  binding, 
because,  before  he  had  given  it  to  Prince  Andrei,  he  had  also 

VOL.  I. — 3- 


34  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

promised  Anatol  to  be  present  at  his  house;  moreover,  he 
reasoned  that  all  such  pledges  were  merely  conditional  and 
had  no  definite  meaning,  especially,  if  it  were  taken  into  con- 
sideration that  perhaps  by  the  next  day  he  might  be  dead,  or 
something  might  happen  to  him  so  extraordinary  that  the  dis- 
tinctions of  honorable  and  dishonorable  would  entirely  vanish. 
Arguments  of  this  nature  often  occurred  to  Pierre,  entirely 
upsetting  his  plans  and  purposes. 

He  went  to  Kuragin's. 

Driving  up  to  the  great  house  at  the  Horse-Guard  barracks, 
where  Anatol  lived,  he  sprang  upon  the  lighted  porch,  ran  up 
the  steps  and  entered  the  open  door.  There  was  no  one  in  the 
entry;  empty  bottles,  cloaks,  and  overshoes  were  scattered 
about ;  there  was  an  odor  of  wine ;  in  some  distant  room  he 
could  hear  loud  talking  and  shouts. 

Play  and  supper  were  over,  but  the  guests  had  not  yet  dis- 
persed. Pierre  threw  off  his  cloak  and  went  into  the  first 
room,  where  were  the  remains  of  the  supper  :  a  single  waiter, 
thinking  that  no  one  could  see  him,  was  stealthily  drinking 
up  the  wine  in  the  half  empty  glasses.  In  a  third  room,  were 
heard  the  sounds  of  scuffling,  laughter,  the  shouts  of  well- 
known  voices,  and  the  growl  of  a  bear.  Eight  young  men 
were  eagerly  crowding  around  an  open  window.  Three  were 
training  with  the  cub,  which  one  of  their  number  was  dragging 
by  a  chain  and  trying  to  frighten  the  others  with. 

"  I  bet  a  hundred  on  Stevens,"  cried  one. 

"  See  that  he  doesn't  hold  on,"  cried  a  second. 

"I  bet  on  Dolokhof,"  cried  a  third,  "Get  those  fellows 
away  from  the  bear,  Kuragin." 

"  There,  let  Mishka  go,  the  wager  is  here." 

"  One  pull,  or  he  loses,"  cried  a  fourth. 

"  Yakof,  bring  the  bottle,  Yakof !  "  cried  the  host  of  the  even- 
ing, a  tall,  handsome  fellow,  standing  in  the  midst  of  tlie 
crowd,  in  a  single  thin  shirt,  thrown  open  at  the  chest. — 
"  Hold  on,  gentlemen !  Here  he  is,  here  is  our  dear  friend, 
Petnishka,"  he  cried,  turning  to  Pierre. 

A  short  man,  with  clear  blue  eyes,  whose  voice,  among  all 
those  drunken  voices,  was  noticeable  for  its  tone  of  sobriety, 
shouted  from  the  window,  "  Come  here  and  hear  about  the 
wagers." 

This  was  Dolokhof,  an  officer  of  the  Semyenovsky  regiment, 
a  well-known  gambler  and  bully,  whose  home  was  with  Anar 
tol.     Pierre  smiled,  as  he  gayly  looked  around  him. 

'^  I  don't  understand  at  all.     What's  up  ?  " 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  35 

''  Hold  on !  He's  not  dnink.  Bring  a  bottle/'  cried  Ana- 
tol,  and  taking  a  glass  from  the  table,  went  up  to  Pierre, — 

«  First  of  all,  drink." 

Pierre  proceeded  to  drain  glass  after  glass,  at  the  same  time 
closely  observing  and  listening  to  his  drunken  companions, 
who  had  again  cit)wded  around  the  window.  Anatol  kept  his 
glass  filled  with  wine  and  told  him  how  Dolokhof  had  laid  a 
wager  with  Stevens,  an  English  naval  man  who  happened  to 
be  there,  that  he,  Dolokhof,  was  to  drink  a  bottle  of  rum,  sit- 
ting in  the  third  story  window  with  his  legs  hanging  out. 

'^  There,  now,  drink  it  all,"  said  Anatol,  handing  the  last 
glass  to  Pierre,  "  I  shan't  let  you  off." 

"  No,  I  don't  wish  any  more,"  replied  Pierre,  and  pushing 
Anatol  aside,  he  went  to  the  window.  Dolokhof  was  holding 
the  Englishman  by  the  arm,  and  was  clearly  and  explicitly  lay- 
ing down  the  conditions  of  the  wager,  turning  more  particu- 
larly to  Anatol  and  Pierre,  as  they  approached. 

Dolokhof  was  a  man  of  medium  height,  with  curly  hair  and 
bright  blue  eyes.  He  was  twenty-five  years  old.  Like  all  in- 
fantry officers,  he  wore  no  mustache,  so  that  his  mouth,  which 
was  the  most  striking  feature  of  his  face,  was  wholly  revealed 
The  lines  of  the  mouth  were  drawn  with  remarkable  delicacy. 
The  upper  lip  closed  firmly  over  the  strong  lower  one  in  a  sharp 
curve  at  the  centre,  and  in  the  corners  hovered  constantly  some- 
thing in  the  nature  of  two  smiles  —  one  in  each  comer !  and  all 
taken  together  and  especially  in  conjunction  with  a  straightfor- 
ward, bold,  intelligent  look,  made  it  impossible  not  to  take 
notice  of  his  face. 

Dolokhof  was  not  a  rich  man,  and  he  ha<l  no  influential  con- 
nections. But  although  Anatol  spent  ten  thousand  rubles  a 
year  and  it  was  known  that  Dolokhof  lived  with  him,  never- 
theless, he  had  succeeded  in  winning  such  a  position  that  Ana- 
tol and  all  who  were  acquainted  with  the  two  men,  had  a 
higher  regard  for  hiln  than  for  Anatol.  Dolokhof  played 
nearly  every  kind  of  a  game  and  almost  always  won.  How- 
ever much  he  drank,  he  never  was  known  to  lose  his  head. 
Both  Kuragin  and  Dolokhof  were  at  this  time  notorious  among 
the  rakes  and  spendthrifts  of  Petersburg. 

The  bottle  of  rum  was  brought.  Two  lackeys,  evidently 
made  timid  and  nervous  by  the  orders  and  shouts  of  the  boon 
companions,  tried  to  pull  away  the  sash  that  hindered  any  one 
from  sitting  on  the  outer  slope  of  the  window  seat. 

Anatol,  with  his  swaggering  way,  came  up  to  the  window. 
He  wanted  to  smash  something.     He  pushed  the  lackeys  away 


36  W^^^  AND  PEACE. 

aod  tugged  at  the  sash,  but  the  sash  would  not  yield,  so  he 
broke  the  window  panes. 

"  Now  you  try  it,  you  man  of  muscle/'  said  he,  turning  to 
Pierre. 

Pierre  seized  hold  of  the  cross  bar,  gave  a  pull,  and  the  oaken 
framework  gave  way  with  a  crash. 

"  Take  it  all  out,  or  they'll  think  I  clung  to  it,"  said  Dolo- 
khof. 

"  The  Englishman  accepts  it,  does  he  ?  —  All  right  ?  " 
asked  Anatol. 

"  All  right,"  said  Pierre,  glancing  at  Dolokhof,  who  took  the 
bottle  of  rum  and  went  to  the  window,  through  which  could 
be  seen  the  sky  where  the  evening  and  morning  light  were 
beginning  to  mingle  —  He  leaped  upon  the  window  sill  with 
the  bottle  in  his  hand. 

"  Listen  ! "  he  cried,  as  he  stood  there  and  looked  back  into 
the  room.  All  were  silent.  "  I  wager,"  —  he  spoke  French 
so  that  the  Englishman  might  understand  him,  and  spoke  it 
none  too  well  either,  —  "I  wager  fifty  imperials ;  or  perhaps 
you  prefer  a  hundred  ?  "  he  added,  addressing  the  Englishman. 

"  No,  fifty,"  replied  the  Englishman. 

"  Very  well,  then,  fifty  it  is,  —  that  I  will  drink  this  whole 
bottle  of  rum  without  taking  it  once  from  my  mouth ;  drink 
it  sitting  in  this  window,  in  that  place  there  "  (he  bent  over 
and  pointed  to  the  sloping  projection  of  the  wall  outside  the 
window),  '*and  not  holding  on  to  anything.  Is  that  under- 
stood ?  " 

"Very  good." 

Anatol  turned  to  the  Englishman  and,  holding  him  by  the 
button  of  his  coat  and  looking  down  upon  him,  —  for  the 
Englishman  was  small  of  stature,  —  began  to  repeat  the  terms 
of  the  wager  in  English. 

"  Hold ! "  cried  Dolokhof,  thum])ing  on  the  window  with 
the  bottle,  in  order  to  atti*act  attention,  —  **  Hold,  Kuragin, 
listen  !  If  any  one  else  does  the  same  thing,  then  I  will  pay 
down  a  hundred  imperials.     Do  you  understand  ?  " 

The  Englishman  nodded  his  head,  though  he  did  not  make 
it  apparent  whether  or  no  he  were  prepared  to  accept  this  new 
wager.  Anatol  still  held  him  by  the  button,  and,  in  spite  of 
the  nods  that  he  made  to  signify  that  he  unclerstood  all  that 
was  said,  Anatol  insisted  on  translating  Dolokhof's  words  for 
him  into  English. 

A  lean  young  leib-hussar,  who  had  been  inlaying  a  losing 
game  all  the  evening,  climbed  upon  the  window,  leaned  over, 
and  gazed  down,  — 


WAR  AND  PEACE,  37 

**  Oo !  Oo !  Oo ! "  he  exclaimed,  as  he  looked  down  from 
the  window  to  the  flagstones  below. 

"Hush!"  cried  Dolokhof,  and  he  pulled  the  officer  back 
from  the  window,  who,  getting  his  feet  entangled  in  his  spurs, 
awkwardly  leaped  down  into  the  room. 

Placing  the  bottle  on  the  window  sill  so  as  to  be  within 
reach,  Dolokhof,  warily  and  coolly  climbed  into  the  window. 
Letting  down  his  legs  and  spreading  out  both  hands,  he  meas- 
ured the  width  of  the  window,  sat  down,  let  go  his  hands, 
moved  to  the  right,  then  to  the  left,  and  took  up  the  bottle. 
Anatol  brought  two  candles  and  set  them  on  the  window  seat, 
although  it  was  now  quite  light.  Dolokhof 's  back,  in  the  white  . 
shirt,  and  his  curly  head  were  illuminated  on  botli  sides.  All 
gathered  around  the  window.  The  Englishman  stood  in  the 
front  row.  Pierre  smiled  and  said  nothing.  One  of  the 
older  men  present  suddenly  stepped  forward,  with  a  stern 
and  frightened  face,  and  attempted  to  seize  Dolokhof  by 
the  shirt. 

"  Gentlemen,  this  is  folly ;  he  will  kill  himself,"  said  this 
man,  who  was  less  foolhardy  than  the  rest. 

Anatol  restrained  him,  — 

"  Don't  touch  him ;  you  will  startle  him,  and  then  he  might 
fall.     What  if  he  should  ?    Hey  ?  " 

Dolokhof  turned  around,  straightening  himself  up,  and 
again  stretching  out  his  hands. 

"  If  any  one  touches  me  again,"  said  he,  hissing  the  words 
through  his  thin  compressed  lips,  "I  will  send  him  flying 
down  there !  So  now ! "  Thus  Kaving  spoken,  he  resumed 
his  former  position,  dropped  his  hands,  and  seizing  the  bottle 
he  lifted  it  to  his  lips,  bent  his  head  back  and  raised  his  free 
arm  as  a  balance.  One  of  the  lackeys,  who  had  begun  to  clear 
away  the  broken  glass,  paused  in  his  work,  and,  without 
straightening  himself  up,  fixed  his  eyes  on  the  window  and 
DolokhoFs  back.  Anatol  stood  straight  with  staring  eyes. 
The  Englishman,  thrusting  out  his  lips,  looked  askance.  The 
man  who  had  tried  to  stop  the  proceeding  repaired  to  one 
comer  of  the  room  and  threw  himself  on  a  sofa,  with  his  face 
to  the  wall.  Pierre  covered  his  eyes,  and  the  feeble  smile 
still  hovering  over  his  lips  now  expressed  horror  and  appre- 
hension. 

All  were  silent.  Pierre  took  his  hand  from  his  eyes. 
Dolokhof  was  still  sitting  in  the  same  position,  only  his 
head  was  thrown  farther  back,  so  that  the  curly  hair  in  the 
nape  of  his  neck  touched  his  shirt  collar,  and  his  hand  hold- 


\ 


38  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

ing  the  bottle  was  lifted  higher  and  higher,  trembling  under 
the  effort.  The  bottle  was  evidently  nearly  empty  and  conse- 
quently had  to  be  held  almost  perpendicularly  over  his 
head. 

"  Why  should  it  take  so  long  ?  "  thought  Pierre.  It  seemed 
to  him  as  though  more  than  a  half  hour  had  elapsed.  Sud- 
denly Dolokhof  s  body  made  a  backward  motion  and  his  arm 
trembled  nervously ;  this  tremor  was  sufficient  to  make  him 
slip  as  he  sat.  on  the  sloping  ledge.  In  fact,  he  slipped,  and 
his  arm  and  head  wavered  more  violently  as  he  struggled  to 
regain  his  balance.  He  stretched  out  one  hand  to  clutch  the 
window  seat,  but  refrained  from  touching  it. 

Pierre  again  covered  his  eyes,  and  declared  to  himself  that 
he  would  not  open  them  again.  Suddenly  he  was  conscious 
that  thete  was  a  commotion  around  him.  He  looked  up, 
Dolokhof  was  standing  on  the  window  seat;  his  face  was 
paJe  but  radiant. 

"  Empty ! '' 

He  flung  the  bottle  at  the  Englishman,  who  cleverly  caught 
it  on  the  fly.  Dolokhof  sprang  down  from  the  window.  He 
exhaled  a  powerful  odor  of  rum. 

" Capital ! "  "Bravo  ! "  " That's  a  wager  worth  having  ! " 
"  The  devil  take  you  all,"  were  the  voices  that  rang  from  all 
sides. 

The  Englishman,  taking  out  his  purse,  was  counting  out 
his  money.  Dolokhof  was  scowling,  and  had  nothing  to  say. 
Pierre  starlied  for  the  window. 

"  Gentlemen !  Who  wants  to  make  the  bet  with  me ;  I 
will  do  the  same  thing,"  he  cried.  "  But  there's  no  need  of 
any  wager.  Give  us  a  bottle.  I  will  do  it  any  way.  Bring 
a  bottle." 

"  Hold  on  !    Hold  on  ! "  said  Dolokhof,  smiling. 

"What  is  the  matter  with  you?"  "Are  you  beside  your- 
self ?  "  "  We  won't  let  you  ! "  "  It  makes  you  dizzy  even  on 
a  staircase,"  were  shouted  from  various  sides. 

"  I  will  drink  it ;  give  me  a  bottle  of  rum,"  cried  Pierre, 
pounding  on  the  table  with  drunken  resolution,  and  climbing 
into  the  window.  He  was  seized  by  the  arm,  but  his  strength 
was  so  great  that  whoever  approached  him  was  sent  flying 
across  the  room. 

"  No,  you  will  never  dissuade  him  that  way,"  said  Anatol. 
"Hold  on;  I  will  throw  dust  in  his  eyes.  Listen,  I  will  make 
the  wager  with  you,  but  to-morrow ;  but  now  we  are  all  going 
to ^'s." 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  39 

**Come  on,"  cried  Pierre,  "Come  on!  And  we  will  take 
Miahka  with  us."  And  seizing  the  bear,  he  began  to  gallop 
round  the  room  with  him. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

Prince  Vasili  fulfilled  the  promise  which  he  had  made  to 
the  Princess  Drubetekaya,  when  she  asked  him  on  the  even- 
ing of  Anna  Pavlovna's  reception,  to  help  her  only  son,  Boris. 
The  request  had  been  preferred  to  the  Emperor,  and  contrary 
to  the  experience  of  many  others,  he  was  allowed  to  enter  the 
Semyenovsky  regiment  of  the  Guard  as  ensign.  But  in  spite 
of  all  Anna  Mikhailovna's  efforts  and  intrigues,  Boris  failed 
of  his  employment  as  adjutant  or  attache  to  Kutuzof. 

Shortly  after  Anna  Pavlovna's  reception,  the  princess  re- 
turned to  Moscow  and  went  straight  to  her  rich  relations, 
the  Bostofs,  at  whose  house  she  always  stayed  when  visiting 
in  Moscow,  and  where  her  idolized  Borenka  had  been  edu- 
cated from  early  childhood  and  had  lived  some  years,  waiting 
to  be  transferred  from  the  Line  to  his  position  as  ensign  of 
the  Guard.  The  Guard  had  already  left  Petersburg  on  the 
twenty-second  of  August,  and  the  young  man,  delayed  in 
Moscow  by  his  uniform  and  outfit,  was  to  join  his  regiment 
at  Radzivilof. 

The  Bostofs  were  celebrating  the  fete  day  of  the  mother 
and  the  youngest  daughter,  both  of  whom  were  named  Na- 
talia. Since  morning  there  had  been  an  unceasing  stream  of 
carriages  coming  and  going  with  guests,  who  brought  their 
congratulations  to  the  countess's  great  mansion  on  the  Povar- 
skaya,  so  well  known  to  all  Moscow.  The  countess  herself 
and  her  eldest  daughter,  a  beautiful  girl,  were  in  the  drawing- 
room  receiving  the  guests,  whose  places  were  constantly  filled 
by  new  comers. 

The  Countess  Bostova  was  a  woman  of  forty-five,  of  a  thin 
oriental  type  of  countenance,  and  evidently  worn  out  by  her 
cares  as  mother  of  a  family  of  a  dozen  children.  Her  delib- 
erateness  of  motion  and  speech,  which  arose  from  her  lack 
of  strength,  gave  her  a  certain  appearance  of  dignity  that 
commanded  respect. 

The  Princess  Anna  Mikhailovna  Drubetskaya,  in  her  capa- 
city of  friend  of  the  family,  was  also  in  the  drawing-room, 
heiping  to  receive  the  company  aad  join  in  the  conversation. 


40  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

The  young  people  were  in  the  rear  rooms,  not  considering  it 
incumbent  upon  them  to  take  part  in  receiving  the  visitors. 
The  count  met  the  guests,  and  escorted  them  to  the  door 
again,  urging  them  all  to  dine  with  him. 

"  Very,  very  much  obliged  to  you,  ma  chere  or  mon  eher  " 
(ma  chere  or  mon  cher  he  said  to  all  without  exception,  with- 
out the  slightest  shadow  of  difference  whether  his  guests 
stood  high  or  low  in  the  social  scale),  *'  much  obliged  to  you 
for  myself  and  for  my  dear  ones  whose  name  day  we  are 
celebrating.  See  here,  come  back  to  dinner.  You  will  affront 
me,  if  you  do  not,  mon  cher.  Cordially  I  invite  you,  and  my 
whole  family  join  with  me,  ma  chere.^^ 

These  words  he  repeated  to  all,  without  exception  or  varia- 
tion, with  an  unchanging  expression  on  his  round,  jolly,  and 
clean-shaven  countenance,  and  with  a  monotonously  firm  grip 
of  the  hand,  and  with  repeated  short  bows.  Having  escorted 
a  guest  to  his  carriage,  the  count  would  return  to  this,  that, 
or  the  other  visitor,  still  remaining  in  the  drawing-room; 
dropping  down  on  a  chair,  with  the  aspect  of  a  man  who  under- 
stands and  enjoys  the  secret  of  life,  he  would  cross  his  legs 
in  boyish  fashion,  lay  his  hands  on  his  knees,  and  shaking  his 
head  significantly,  would  set  forth  his  conjectures  concerning 
the  weather,  or  exchange  confidences  about  health,  sometimes 
speaking  in  Russian,  sometimes  in  very  execrable  but  self- 
confident  French,  and  then  again  with  the  air  of  a  weary  man, 
who  is  nevertheless  bound  to  fulfil  all  obligations,  he  would 
go  to  the  door  with  still  another  departing  guest,  straighten- 
ing the  thin  p^ray  hairs  on  his  bald  head,  and  dutifully  prof- 
fering the  invitations  to  dinner. 

Sometimes  returning  through  the  entry  to  the  drawing- 
room,  he  would  pass  through  the  conservatory  and  butlei-'s 
room  to  the  great  marble  hall  where  covers  were  laid  for 
eighty  guests,  and  glancing  at  the  butlers  who  were  bringing 
the  silver  and  china,  setting  the  tables  and  unfolding  the 
damask  table  linen,  he  would  call  to  him  Dimitri  Vasilye- 
vitch,  a  man  of  noble  family,  who  had  charge  of  all  his 
affairs,  and  would  say,  — 

"Well,  well,  Mitenka,  see  that  everything  is  all  right. 
That's  good,  that's  good,''  he  would  say,  glancing  with  satis- 
faction on  the  huge  extension  table.  "The  principal  thing 
is  the  service.  Very  good,  very  good."  And  with  a  deep 
sigh  of  satisfaction,  he  would  go  back  to  the  drawing-room 
once  more. 

"Marya  Lvovna  Karagin  and  her  daughter,"  announced 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  41 

the  countesses  footman,  in  a  thundering  bass  voice,  coming  to 
the  door.  The  countess  was  thoughtful  for  a  moment,  and 
took  a  pinch  of  snuif  from  a  gold  snuff-box  ornamented  with 
a  portrait  of  her  husband. 

*'  I  am  tired  to  death  of  these  callers,"  said  she.  "  Well, 
this  is  the  last  one  I  shall  receive.  She  is  very  affected.  — 
Ask  her  to  come  in,"  said  she,  to  the  footman,  in  a  mournful 
voice,  as  though  her  words  had  been :  "  If  I  must  be  killed, 
kill  me  now." 

A  tall,  portly,  haughty-looking  lady,  in  a  rustling  train 
came  into  the  draX^ing-room,  followed  by  her  round-faced, 
smiling  young  daughter. 

"  Dear  Countess  it  has  been  such  a  long  time  —  she  has  been 
ill  in  bed,  la  pauvre  enfant  —  ^^au  hal  des  Kazouniowsky^^  — 
"  et  la  Conitesse  Apraksine  "  —  ^'fdi  ete  si  heureuse/^  —  such 
were  the  phrases  spoken  by  lively  feminine  voices,  and  min- 
gling with  the  inistle  of  silks  and  the  moving  of  chairs. 

That  sort  of  conversation  had  begmi  which  is,  by  unani- 
mous consent,  manoeuvred  in  such  a  way  that  at  the  first 
pause,  the  visitor  is  ready  to  get  up,  and  with  a  rustling  oft 
garments,  to  murmur:  "Je  suis  bien  charme  —  la  saute  de 
maman  —  et  la  Comtesse  Apraksine,  "  and  again  with  rustling 
garments  to  beat  a  retreat  into  the  entry,  to  throw  on  the 
shuba  or  the  cloak,  and  to   depart. 

The  conversation  was  turning  on  the  chief  item  of  city 
news  at  that  time  namely,  the  illness  of  the  famous  old 
Count  Bezukhoi,  one  of  the  richest  and  handsomest  men  of 
Catherine's  time,  and  also  about  his  illegitimate  son,  Pierre, 
the  same  young  man  who  had  behaved  in  such  an  unseemly 
manner  at  Anna  Pavlovna's  reception. 

*•'  1  am  very  sorry  for  the  old  count,"  said  one  of  the  ladies, 
"his  health  is  so  wretched,  and  now  to  have  to  suffer  this 
mortification  on  account  of  his  son  —  it  will  be  the  death  of 
him." 

"  What  is  that,"  asked  the  countess,  as  though  she  were 
not  aware  of  what  the  visitor  was  talking  about,  although 
she  had  heard  fifty  times  already,  the  cause  of  Count  Bezu- 
khoi's  mortification. 

"  It  all  comes  from  the  present  system  of  education.  Send- 
ing them  abroad ! "  pursued  the  lady.  "  This  young  man  has 
been  left  to  shift  for  himself,  and,  now  they  say  that  he  has 
been  carrying  on  so  horribly  in  Petersburg,  that  the  police 
had  to  interfere  and  send  him  out  of  the  city." 

"  Pray,  tell  us  about  it,"   urged  the  countess. 


42  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

"He  made  a  bad  choice  of  friends,"  remarked  the  Princess 
Anna  Mikhailovna.  "Prince  Vasili's  son,  this  Pierre,  and 
a  young  man  named  Dolokhof,  they  say,  have  been  doing  — 
heaven  only  knows  what.  But  all  of  them  have  had  to  suffer 
for  it.  Dolokhof  has  been  reduced  to  the  ranks,  and  Be- 
zukhoi's  son  has  been  sent  to  Moscow,  and  Anatol  Kuragin 
has  been  taken  in  charge  by  his  father.  At  all  events,  he  has 
been  sent  away  from  Petersburg." 

"  Yes,  but  what  was  it,  pray,  that  they  did  ?  "  asked  the 
countess. 

"  They  acted  like  perfect  cut-throats,  especially  Dolokhof," 
said  the  visitor.  "  He  is  a  son  of  Marya  Ivanovna  Dol- 
okhova,  —  such  an  excellent  woman,  just  think  of  it!  Can 
you  imagine  it  ?  the  three  of  them  somehow,  got  hold  of  a 
bear,  took  it  with  them  into  a  carriage,  and  carried  it  to  the 
house  of  soiue  actresses.  The  police  hastened  to  apprehend 
them.  They  seized  the  oflBcer  and  tied  him  back  to  back  to 
the  bear,  and  then  threw  the  bear  into  the  Moskva :  the  bear 
started  to  swim  with  the  police  officer  on  his  back  ! " 
f.  "  Capital,  7na  chere,  what  a  fig^ire  the  officer  must  have 
cut !  "  cried  the  count,  bursting  with  laughter. 

"  Oh,  how  terrible !  what  can  you  find  to  laugh  at,  count  ?  " 
But  the  ladies  had  to  laugh  in  spite  of  themselves. 

"It  wiis  with  difficulty  that  they  rescued  the  unfortunate 
man,"  pursued  the  visitor.  "And  to  think  that  a  son  of 
Count  Kirill  Vladimirovitch  Bezukhoi  should  iind  amusement 
in  such  intellectual  pursuits,"  she  added,  sarcastically.  "  But 
they  say  that  he  is  so  well  educated  and  so  clever.  That 
show^s  what  educating  young  men  abroad  makes  of  them! 
I  hope  that  no  one  will  bring  him  here,  though  he  is  so  rich. 
They  wanted  to  give  him  an  introduction  to  me.  I  most 
decidedly  refused ;   I  have  daughters  you  know." 

"  What  made  you  say  that  this  young  man  was  so  rich," 
asked  the  countess,  bending  away  from  the  younger  ladies, 
who  immediately  pretended  not  to  hear  what  she  was  saying. 
"  You  see,  he  has  only  illegitimate  children.  It  appears  — 
and  Pierre  is  also  illegitimate." 

"  The  guest  waved  her  hand :  "  I  imagine  he  has  a  score 
of  them." 

The  Princess  Anna  Mikhailovna  took  part  in  the  conversa- 
tion, with  the  evident  desire  of  showing  off  her  powerful  con- 
nections and  her  acquaintance  with  all  the  details  of  high 
life. 

"This  is  the  truth  of  the  matter,"   said  she,  significantly, 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  43 

and  also  in  a  half  whisper,  "  Count  Kirill  Vladimirovitch's 
reputation  is  notorious ;  as  for  his  children,  he  has  lost 
count  of  them,  but  this  Pierre  was  his  favorite." 

"How  handsome  the  old  man,"  said  the  coimtess,  "and 
only  last  year  too  !  I  never  saw  a  handsomer  man  !  " 

"  Now  he  is  very  much  changed,"  said  Anna  Mikhailovna, 
"As  I  was  going  to  say,  on  his  wife's  side.  Prince  Vasili, 
is  the  direct  heir  to  all  his  property,  but  the  old  man  is  very 
fond  of  Pierre,  has  taken  great  pains  with  his  education,  and 
has  written  to  the  Emperor  about  him;  so  that  no  one 
knows,  if  he  should  die,  —  he  is  so  weak,  that  it  may  happen 
any  moment,  and  Dr.  Lorrain  has  come  up  from  Petersburg, 
—  no  one  knows,  I  say,  which  will  get  his  colossal  fortune, 
Pierre  or  Prince  Vasili.  He  has  forty  thousand  souls  and 
millions.  I  know  all  about  this,  because  Prince  Vasili  him- 
self told  me.  Yes,  and  besides,  Kirill  Vladimirovitch  is  my 
great  uncle  on  my  mother's  side.  And  he  is  also  Boris's 
godfather,"  she  added,  pretending  that  she  attributed  no 
significance  to  this  circumstance.  ^ 

"Prince   Vasili  came   to   Moscow,   yesterday.      He  is   oiw 
some  official  business,  I  was  told,"   said  the  guest. 

"  Yes,  but  entre  7ious,"  said  the  princess,  "  it's  a  mere 
pretext ;  he  has  come  principally  on  account  of  Count  Kirill 
Vladimirovitch,  because  he  knew  that  he  was  so  siclt." 

"  At  all  events,  ma  ch^re,  that's  a  splendid  joke,"  said  the 
count,  and  perceiving  that  the  elderly  visitor  did  not  hear 
him,  he  turned  his  attention  to  the  young  ladies.  "Charm- 
ing figure,  that  cut  by  the  police  officer,  —  I  can  imagine  it ! " 

And  as  he  waved  his  arms  in  imitation  of  the  unfortunate* 
police  officer,  he  again  burst  out  into  a  ringing  bass  laugh, 
which  made  his  portly  frame  fairly  shake,  as  is  the  way  with 
men  who  always  live  well,  and  especially  those  who  indulge  in 
generous  wines. 

"  So  glad  to  have  you  dine  with  us,"  said  he. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

A  siLENCB  ensued.  The  countess  looked  at  the  guest, 
smiling  pleasantly,  but  nevertheless  making  no  pretence  of  the 
fact  that  she  would  not  be  sorry  if  she  got  up  and  took  her 
departure.  The  daughter  was  already  arranging  her  dress 
and  looking  inquiringly  at  her  mother,  when  suddenly  there 
waa  heard  in  the  next  room  the  noise  of  several   persons 


44  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

running  towards  the  door,  then  the  catching  and  upsetting  of 
a  chair,  and  instantly  into  the  drawing-room  darted  a  maiden  of 
thirteen,  holding  something  in  her  short  muslin  skirt.  She 
halted  in  the  middle  of  the  room,  and  it  was  evident  that  her 
wild  frolic  had  carried  her  farther  than  she  had  intended.  At 
the  same  instant  there  appeared  in  the  door  a  student  with  a 
crimson  collar,  a  young  officer  of  the  Guard,  a  maiden  of 
fifteen,  and  a  plump,  rosy-faced  little  boy  in  a  frock. 

The  count  jumped  up,  and  swinging  his  arms,  threw  them 
around  the  little  girl  who  had  come  running  in. 

"  Ah !  here  she  is "  he  cried,  with  a  jolly  laugh.  "  Iler 
name  day,  ma  ch^re,  her  name  day  !  " 

"Ma  e/i^re,  ily  a  uii  temps  2>our  touf,^^*  said  the  countess, 
feigning  severity.  "  You  are  always  spoiling  her,  Elie,"  she 
added,  addressing  her  husband. 

"Bonjonr,  ma  cMre,  je  vous  felicite,^^  said  the  visitor. 
"  Quelle  dehcieuse  enfant !  "  slip  added,  turning  to  the  mother. 

The  little  maiden,  with  her  black  eyes  and  her  large  mouth, 
was  not  pretty,  but  was  full  of  life ;  her  childish  shoulders, 
^^till  breathlessly  rising  and  sinking  from  the  effort  of  her 
excited  running,  were  bare ;  her  dark  locks  were  thrown  back 
in  confusion ;  she  had  thin,  bare  arms,  and  wore  pantalettes 
trimmed  with  lace,  and  low  slippers  on  her  dainty  feet.  She 
was  at  that  charming  age  when  the  girl  is  no  longer  a  child, 
but  when  the  child  is  not  yet  a  young  lady. 

Tearing  herself  away  from  her  father,  she  mn  to  her  mother, 
and  giving  no  heed  to  her  stern  reproof,  hid  her  blushing  face 
in  the  lace  folds  of  her  mother's  mantilla,  and  went  into  a  fit 
.  of  laughter.  The  cause  of  her  laughter  was  the  doll,  which 
she  took  out  from  under  her  skirt,  trying  to  tell  some  frag- 
mentary story  about  it. 

"Do  you  see  ?  —  It's  my  doll  —  Mimi  —  You  see  *'  — ^ 

And  Katasha  was  unable  to  say  any  more,  it  seemed  to  her 
so  ludicrous.  She  leaned  on  her  mother  and  laughed  so 
merrily  and  infectiously,  that  all,  even  the  conceited  visitor, 
in  spite  of  herself,  joined  in  her  amusement. 

"Now,  run  away,  run  away  with  your  monster,"  ad- 
monished the  mother,  pushing  away  her  daughter,  with 
pretended  sternness.  "  She  is  my  youngest,"  she  added,  turn- 
ing to  the  visitor. 

Natasha,  for  a  moment  raising  her  face  from  her  mother's 
lace  mantle,  glanced  up  at  the  stranger  through  her  tears  of 
laughter  and  again  hid  her  face. 

*  My  dear,  there  is  a  timo  (or  all  things. 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  46 

The  visitor,  compelled  to  admire  this  family  scene,  felt  it 
incumbent  upon  her  to  take  some  part  in  it.  "  Tell  me,  my 
dear,"  said  she,  turning  to  Natasha,  "  what  relation  is  this 
Mimi  to  you  ?     She  is  your  daughter,  I  suppose." 

Natasha  was  offended  by  the  condescending  tone  in  which 
the  lady  addressed  her.  She  made  no  reply,  and  looked 
solemnly  at  her. 

Meantime,  all  the  young  people  mentioned — the  officer, 
who  was  none  other  than  Boris,  the  son  of  the  Princess  Anna 
Mikhailovna,  Nikolai,  the  student,  the  count^s  oldest  son, 
Sonya,  the  count's  fifteen-year-old  niece,  and  the  little 
Petrusha,  his  youngest  boy,  all  crowded  into  the  drawing- 
room,  evidently  doing  their  utmost  to  restrain  within  the 
bounds  of  propriety  the  excitement  and  merriment  which 
convulsed  their  faces.  It  could  be  seen  that  there  in  the  rear 
rooms,  from  which  they  had  rushed  so  impetuously,  they  had 
been  engaged  in  much  more  'iRntertaining  conversation  than 
town  gossip,  the  weather  and  Comtesse  Apraksine. 

Occasionally  they  would  glance  at  one  another  and  find  it 
hard  to  refrain  from  bursting  out  laughing  again. 

The  two  young  men,  the  student  and  the  officer,  who  had 
been  friends  from  childhood,  were  of  the  same  age  and  were 
both  good-looking,  but  totally  unlike  each  other.  Boris  was 
tall  and  fair,  with  regular,  delicate  features  and  a  placid  ex- 
pression. Nikolai  was  a  short,  curly-haired  young  man,  with 
a  frank,  open  countenance.  On  his  upper  lip  the  first  dark 
down  had  already  begun  to  appear,  and  his  whole  face  was 
expressive  of  impetuosity  and  enthusiasm.  Nikolai's  face 
had  flushed  crimson  the  moment  he  entered  the  drawing- 
room.  It  was  plain  to  see  that  he  strove  in  vain  to  find 
something  to  say ;  Boris,  on  the  contrary,  immediately  re- 
gained his  self-possession,  and  began  to  relate,  calmly  and 
humorously,  how  he  had  been  acquainted  with  this  Mimi-kulka 
when  she  was  a  fine  young  lady,  before  her  nose  had  lost  its 
beauty ;  how  since  their  acquaintance,  begun  five  years  before, 
she  had  grown  aged  and  cracked  as  to  the  whole  surface 
of  her  cranium  I 

As  he  said  this  he  looked  at  Natasha,  but  she  turned  away 
from  him  and  looked  at  her  little  brother,  who  was  squeezing 
his  eyes  together  and  shaking  with  suppressed  laughter,  and 
finding  that  the  effort  was  beyond  her  power,  snickered  out 
loud  and  darted  from  the  room  as  fast  as  her  nimble  little 
feet  would  carry  her.  Boris  managed  to  preserve  his  com- 
posure. 


46  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

"  Maman,  do  you  not  want  to  go  out  ?     Shall  I  not  order 
the  carriage,"  he  asked,  turning  to  his  mother  with  a  smile. 
"  Yes,  yes,  go  and  order  it,  please,"  said  she,  returning  his 

smile. 

Boris  quietly  left  the  room  and  went  in  pursuit  of  Natasha ; 
the  plump  little  boy  trotted  sturdily  after  them,  as  though  he 
was  vexed  at  heart  at  the  disarrangement  made  in  his  plans. 

CHAPTER  X. 

Of  the  young  people,  not  reckoning  Miss  Kuragina  and  the 
count's  oldest  daughter,  who  was  four  years  older  than  her 
sister  and  regarded  herself  as  already  grown  up — only 
Nikolai  and  the  niece  Sonya  remained  in  the  drawing-room. 

Sonya  was  a  miniature  little  brunette,  with  a  tawny-tinted 
complexion  especially  noticeable  on  her  neck  and  bare  arms, 
which  were  slender,  but  graceful  and  muscular.  She  had 
soft  eyes  shaded  by  long  lashes,  and  she  wore  her  black 
liair  in  a  long  braid  twined  twice  about  her  head.  By  the 
easy  grace  of  her  movements,  by  the  suppleness  and  softness 
of  her  slender  limbs,  and  by  a  certain  cunning  and  coyness  of 
manner,  she  reminded  one  of  a  beautiful  kitten  which  prom- 
ises soon  to  grow  into  a  lovely  cat.  She  evidently  considered 
it  the  right  thing  to  manifest  her  interest  in  the  general 
conversation  by  a  smile ;  but  her  eyes  against  her  will,  shot 
glances  of  such  passionate  girlish  adoration  from  under  their 
long,  thick,  lashes  at  her  cousin  who  was  soon  to  join  the  army, 
that  her  smile  could  not  for  an  instant  deceive  any  one,  and  it 
was  plain  to  see  that  the  kitten  had  only  crouched  down  in 
order  to  jump  and  play  all  tile  more  merrily  with  her  cousin, 
as  soon  as  the  two  followed  the  example  of  Boris  and  Natasha, 
and  left  the  drawing-room. 

"Yes,  ma  ch^re^^  said  the  old  count,  turning  to  Mrs. 
Kuragina  and  pointing  to  Nikolai :  "  His  friend  Boris,  here, 
has  been  appointed  an  officer  in  the  guard,  and  they  are  such 
good  friends  that  they  cannot  bfe  separated,  so  he  throws 
up  the  University  and  his  old  father,  and  is  going  into  the 
military  service,  ma  ch^re.  And  yot  there  was  a  place  all 
ready  for  him  in  the  department  of  the  Archives,  and  all. 
That's  what  friendship  is,"  concluded  the  count,  with  a  dubious 
shake  of  the  head. 

"  Yes,  there's  going  to  be  war,  they  say,"  said  the  visitor. 

"  They  have  been  saying  so  for  a  long  time,"  replied  the 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  47 

count,  ''and  they  will  say  so  again,. and  keep  saying  so  and 
that  will  be  the  end  of  it.  Ma  chire,  that's  what  friendship 
is,"  he  repeated,  "  he  is  going  to  join  the  hussars." 

The  visitor,  not  knowing  what  reply  to  make,  shook  her  head. 

*'  It  is  not  out  of  friendship  at  all,"  declared  Nikolai,  flush- 
ing up  and  spuming  the  accusation  as  though  it  were  a 
shameful  aspersion  on  his  character.  ''  It  is  not  from  friend- 
ship at  all,  but,  simply  because  I  feel  drawn  to  a  military 
life." 

He  glanced  at  his  cousin  and  at  the  young  lady  visitor, 
both  were  looking  at  him  with  k  smile  of  approbation. 

"  Ck>lonel  Schubert  of  the  Pavlogradsky  regiment  of  hussars 
is  going  to  dine  with  us  to-night.  He  has  been  home  on  4eave 
of  absence,  and  is  going  to  take  Nikolai  back  with  him. 
What's  to  be  done  about  it  ?  "  asked  the  count,  shrugging  his 
shoulders  and  affecting  to  treat  as  a  jest  what  had  evidently 
occasioned  him  much  pain. 

"  I  have  already  told  you,  papenka,"  said  the  lad,  "  that  if 
you  do  not  wish  me  to  go,  I  will  stay  at  home.  But  I  know 
that  I  am  not  good  for  anything  except  the  army  ;  I  cajiuiot 
be  a  diplomatist  or  a  chinovnik,  I  can't  hide  what  I  feel,"  • 
and  as  he  said  this,  he  glanced,  with  a  handsome  young  fel- 
low's coquetry,  at  Sony  a  atid  the  young  lady  visitor. 

The  kitten  feasted  her  eyes  on  him  and*  seemed  ready  at  a 
second's  notice  to  play  and  show  all  her  kittenish  nature. 

"  Well,  well,  let  it  go,"  said  the  old  count.  "  He's  all  on 
fire  ?  This  Bonaparte  has  turned  all  their  heads ;  they  all 
think  what  an  example  he  gave  them  in  rising  from  a  lieuten- 
ant to  be  an  emperor.  Well,  good  luck  to  them,"  he  added, 
not  noticing  his  visitor's  sarcastic  smile. 

They  began  to  talk  about  %^apoleon.  Julie  Karagina 
turned  to  young  Rostof ,  — 

"  How  sorry  I  was  that  you  didn't  come  last  Thursday  to 
the  Arkharofs.  It  was  lonesome  there  without  you,"  said 
she,  giving  him  an  affectionate  smile. 

The  young  man,  much  flattered,  drew  his  seat  nearer  to  her 
and  engaged  the  smiling  Julie  in  a  confidential  conversation, 
entirely  oblivious  that  this  coquettish  smile  cut  as  witli  a 
knife  the  jealous  heart  of  poor  Sonya,  who  flushed  and  tried  to 
force  a  smile. 

In  the  midst  of  this  conversation  he  happened  to  glance  at 
her.  She  gave  him  a  look  of  passionate  anger  and,  scarcely 
able  to  hold  back  her  tears,  and  with  the  pretended  smile  still 
on  her  lips,  got  up  and  left  the  room.     All  Nikolai's  anima- 


48  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

tiou  deserted  him.  He  availed  himself  of  the  first  break  in 
the  conversation,  and  with  a  disturbed  countenance  left  the 
room  in  search  of  Sonya. 

"  How  the  secrets  of  these  young  folks  are  sewed  with 
white  threads !  "  exclaimed  Anna  Mikhailovna,  nodding  in  the 
direction  of  the  vanishing  Nikolai,  "  Cotcsinage  dangeretix 
voisinage  !  "  she  added. 

"  Yes,"  replied  the  countess,  when,  as  it  were,  the  very 
light  of  the  sun  had  departed  from  the  room,  together  with 
these  young  people,  and  then,  as  though  she  were  answering  a 
question  which  no  one  had  asked,  but  which  was  constantly 
in  her  mind :  "  How  much  suffering,  how  much  unrest  must 
be  gone  through  with  in  order  that  at  last  we  may  have  some 
joy  in  them  !  And  even  now !  truly  there's  more  sorrow  than 
joy.  You're  always  in  apprehension,  always  in  apprehension ! 
This  is  the  age  when  there  are  so  many  perils  both  for  young 
girls  and  for  boys." 

"  It  all  depends  upon  the  education,"  said  the  visitor. 

"Yes,  you  are  right,"  continued  the  countess,  ''So  far 
I  have  been,  thank  God,  the  confidant  of  my  children,  and 
enjoy  their  perfect  confidence,"  declared  the  countess,  repeat- 
ing the  error  of  many  parents  who  cherish  the  illusion  that 
their  children  have  no  secrets  in  which  they  do  not  share. 
'*  I  know  that  I  shall  always  be  my  daughter's  chief  confidente, 
and  that  Nikolinka,  even,  ^vith  his  impetuous  nature,  if  he 
does  play  some  pranks,  as  all  boys  will,  still,  there's  no 
danger  of  his  being  like  those  Petersburg  young  men !  " 

"Yes,  they're  splendid,  splendid  children,"  emphatically 
affirmed  the  count,  who  always  settled  every  question  too 
complicated  for  him  by  finding  everything  splendid.  "But 
what's  to  be  done  !  He  wantid  to  go  into  the  hussars!  What 
would  you  have,  wa  ck^re  ?  " 

"  What  a  charming  creature  your  youngest  girl  is ! "  said 
the  visitor.     "  Like  powder !  " 

"  Yes,  like  powder,"  said  the  count.  "  She  resembles  me  ! 
And  what  a  voice  she  has !  Although  she  is  my  daughter,  yet 
I  am  not  afraid  to  say  that  she  is  going  to  be  a  singer,  a 
second  Salomoni.  We  have  engaged  an  Italian  master  to 
teach  her." 

"  Isn't  she  too  young  yet  ?  They  say  it  is  injurious  for  the 
voice  to  study  at  her  age." 

"  Oh  no  I  why  do  you  consider  it  too  early?  "  exclaimed  the 
count.  "Didn't  our  mothers  get  married  when  they  werr 
twelve  or  thirteen?  " 


^ 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  49 

"And  she's  already  in  love  with  Boris  I  Just  think  of  it !  " 
said  the  countess,  looking  at  the  princess  with  a  sweet  smile  ; 
then  apparently  answering  a  thought  that  constantly  occupied 
her,  she  went  on  to  say,  — 

"  Well,  now,  you  see  if  I  were  too  strict  with  her,  if  I  were 
to  forhid  her  —  Qod  knows  what  they  might  be  doing  on  the 
sly  (she  meant,  they  might  exchange  kisses  )  !  but  now  I  know 
everything  they  say.  She  comes  to  me  herself  every  evening, 
and  tells  me  all  about  it.  Maybe,  I  spoil  her,  but  indeed  this 
seems  to  be  the  best  plan.  I  kept  a  toowstrict  rein  over  my 
eldest  daughter." 

"  Yes,  I  was  brought  up  in  an  entirely  different  way,"  said 
the  oldest  daughter,  the  handsome  Countess  Viera,  smiling. 
But  the  smile  <£d  not  add  to  the  beauty  of  her  face,  as  often 
happens ;  on  the  contrary  it  lost  its  natural  expression  and 
therefore  became  unpleasant.  She  was  handsome,  intelligent, 
well  bred,  well  educated,  her  voice  was  pleasant,  what  she 
said  was  right  and  proper  enough,  and  yet,  strange  to  say,  her 
mother  and  all  the  others  looked  at  her,  as  though  surprised 
at  her  saying  such  a  thing,  and  regarded  it  as  one  of  the 
things  that  had  better  have  been  left  unsaid. 

"People  always  try  to  be  very  wise  with  their  eldest 
children, — try  to  accomplish  something  extraordinary,"  said 
the  visitor. 

"  How  naughty  to  prevaricate,  ma  chhre  I  The  little  coun- 
tess tried  to  be  very  wise  with  Viera,"  said  the  count.  "  Well, 
on  the  whole,  she  has  succeeded  splendidly,"  he  added,  wink- 
ing approvingly  at  his  daughter. 

The  visitors  got  up  and  took  their  departure,  promising  to 
return  to  dinner. 

"  What  manners !  I  thought  they  were  going  to  stay  for- 
ever," remarked  the  countess,  after  she  had  seen  her  visitors 
to  the  door. 

CHAPTER  XI. 

When  Natasha  left  the  drawing-room,  she  ran  only  as  far 
as  the  conservatory.  There  she  paused,  listening  to  the  chat- 
ter in  the  drawing-room  and  expecting  Boris  to  follow  her. 
She  was  already  beginning  to  grow  impatient,  and  stamped 
her  foot,  on  the  very  verge  of  crying  because  he  did  not  fol- 
low her  instantly,  when  she  heard  the  noisy,  deliberate  steps 
of  a  young  man.  Natasha  hastily  sprang  between  some 
tubs  full  of  flowers  and  concealed  herself. 


/ 


50  ^AH  AND  PEACE. 

It  was  Boris,  who  paused  in  the  centre  of  the  room,  looked 
around  him,  brushed  the  dust  from  the  sleeve  of  Ms  uniform, 
and  then  going  to  the  mirror,  contemplated  his  handsome 
face.  Natasha,  holding  her  breath,  peered  out  from  her 
hiding-place  and  waited  to  see  what  he  would  do.  He  stood 
for  some  moments  in  front  of  the  mirror ;  then  smiling  with 
satisfaction,  went  toward  the  entrance  door. 

Natasha  was  just  about  to  call  to  him,  but  then  she  thought 
better  of  it.  "  Let  him  find  me,"  she  said  to  herself.  As 
soon  as  Boris  had  left  the  conservatory,  Sonya  came  in  from 
the  other  door,  all  flushed,  and  angrily  muttering  to  herself. 
Natasha  restrained  her  first  impulse  to  run  to  her  and  kept 
in  her  hiding-place,  as  though  under  an  invisible  cap,  look- 
ing at  what  was  going  on  in  the  world.  She  was  experiencing 
a  new  aijd  peculiar  enjoyment. 

Sonya  was  still  muttering  something,  and  looked  expect- 
antly toward  the  drawing-room.  Then  Nikolai  made  his 
appearance. 

"  Sonya !  what  is  the  matter  ?  How  can  you  do  so  ? " 
asked  the  lad,  going  up  to  her. 

"  No,  no,  leave  me  alone  I "  and  Sonya  began  to  sob. 

"  Well,  I  know  what  the  trouble  is." 

*•'  If  you  know,  so  much  the  better ;  go  back  to  her,  then." 

"  So-o-onya !  one  word !  How  can  you  torment  me,  and 
torment  yourself  for  a  mere  fancy  ! "  asked  Nikolai,  taking 
her  hand.  Sonya  did  not  withdraw  her  hand  and  ceased 
weeping. 

Natasha,  not  moving,  and  hardly  breathing,  peered  from 
^her  concealment.  "  What  will  they  do  now,  I  wonder,"  she 
said  to  herself. 

''  Sonya !  The  whole  world  is  nothing  to  me  !  Thou  alone 
art  all  to  me,"   said  Nikolai,  "  I  will  prove  it  to  thee  ! " 

"  I  don't  like  it  when  you  talk  so  with  "  — 

"  Well,  I  won't  do  so  any  more,  only  forgive  me,  Sonya ! " 

He  drew  her  to  him  and  kissed  her. 

"  Ah  !  how  nice  ! "  thought  Natasha,  and  when  Sonya  and 
Nikolai  had  left  the  room,  she  followed  them  and  called  Boris 
to  her. 

"Boris!  Come  here,"  said  she,  with  her  face  full  of  mis- 
chievous meaning.  "  1  want  to  tell  you  something.  Here,  come 
here  ! "  she  said,  and  drew  him  into  the  conservatory,  to  the 
very  place  among  the  tubs  where  she  had  been  in  hiding. 
Boris  smiling,  followed  her. 

"  Wliat  may  this  something  be  ?  "  he  inquired. 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  61 

She  grew  confused,  glanced  around  her,  and  espying  the 
doll  which  she  had  thrown  on  one  of  the  tubs,  she  took  it  up. 

"  Kiss  the  doll,"  said  she. 

Boris  looked  down  into  her  eager  face,  with  an  inquiring, 
gramous  look,  and  made  no  reply. 

"  Don't  you  care  to  ?  Well,  then  come  here,"  said  she, 
and  made  her  way  deeper  among  the  flowers,  at  the  same 
time  throwing  away  the  doll.  "Nearer,  nearer,"  she 
whispered.  She  seized  the  oflicer's  coat  by  the  cuff,  and 
her  flushed  face  expressed  eagerness  and  apprehension. 
"Then,  will  you  kiss  me?"  she  whispered,  so  low  as 
hardly  to  be  heard,  looking  up  at  him  and  smiling,  and 
almost  crying  with  emotion. 

Boris  reddened.  "  How  absurd  you  are ! "  he  exclaimed, 
but  he  bent  over  to  her,  reddening  still  more  violently,  but 
not  quite  able  to  make  up  his  mind  whether  to  do  it  or  not. 

Natasha  suddenly  sprang  on  a  tub,  so  that  she  was  taller 
than  he,  threw  both  slender  bare  arms  around  his  neck,  and 
by  a  motion  of  her  head,  tossing  back  her  curls,  kissed  him 
full  in  the  lips.  Then  she  slipped  away  between  the  flower- 
pots, and  hanging  her  head,  stood  still  on  the  other  side. 

"  Natasha,"  said  he,  "  you  know  that  I  love  you,  but "  — 

"Are  you  in  love  with  me,"  asked  Natasha,  interrupting 
him. 

"  Yes,  I  am,  but  please  let  us  not  do  this  again.  —  In  four 
years,  —  then  I  will  ask  for  your  hand." 

Natasha  pondered. 

"Thirteen,  fourteen,  fifteen,  sixteen,"  said  she,  reckoning 
on  her  delicate  fingers.  "  Good  1  Then  it  is  decided  ?  " 
And  a  smile  of  joy  and  satisfaction  lighted  up  her  animated 
face. 

"Yes,  it  is  decided,"  said  Boris. 

"For  ever  and  ever,"  said  the  girl.  "Till  death  itself!" 
And  taking  his  arm,  she  went  with  a  happy  face  into  the 
divan-room  with  him. 


CHAPTEB  XII. 

The  countess  was  now  so  tired  of  receiving,  that  she  gave 
orders  not  to  admit  any  more  visitors,  and  the  Swiss  was 
toljl  to  invite  any  one  else  who  came,  to  return  to  dinner. 

The  countess  was  anxious  to  have  a  confidential  talk  with 
the  friend  of  her  childhood,  the  Princess  Anna  Mikhailovna, 


/ 


52  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

whom  she  had  scarcely  seen  since  her  retnm  from  Petersburg. 
Anna  Mikhailovna,  with  her  rather  sad,  but  pleasant  face, 
drew  her  chair  nearer  to  the  countess. 

"I  will  be  perfectly  frank  with  you,"  said  she.  "We 
have  very  few  of  our  old  friends  left.  And  that's  why  I 
prize  your  friendship  so  highly ! " 

She  glanced  at  Viera,  and  paused. 

The  countess  pressed  her  hand ;  then,  turning  to  her  eldest 
daughter,  who  was  evidently  not  her  favorite,  she  said,  — 

"  Viera,  haven't  you  any  pei'ception  at  all  ?  Cannot  you 
see  that  you  are  in  the  way  ?     Go  to  your  sisters,  or"  — 

The  handsome  Viera  smiled  scornfully,  evidently  not  feel- 
ing the  least  ofiFended. 

"  If  you  had  only  told  me  sooner,  mamenka,  I  should  have 
gone  immediately,"  said  she,  and  she  left  the  room.  But 
as  she  was  going  past  the  divan-room,  she  saw  that  two 
couples  were  snugl}"-  ensconced  in  the  embrasures  of  the  two 
windows.  She  paused  and  smiled  satirically.  Sony  a  was 
sitting  close  by  Nikolai,  who  was  copying  some  verses  in 
her  honor,  —  the  first  he  had  ever  written.  Boris  and 
Natasha  were  sitting  in  the  other  window,  and  stopped 
talking  as  Viera  passed.  Both  of  the  girls  looked  up  at  her 
with  guilty  and  yet  happy  faces. 

It  was  both  amusing  and  touching  to  see  these  two  girls, 
so  head  over  ears  in  love,  but  the  sight  of  them  evidently, 
did  not  rouse  pleasant  thoughts  in  Viera's  mind. 

"  How  many  ■  times  have  I  asked  you  not  to  touch  my 
things,"   said  she,  "  you  have  your  own  room." 

And  she  took  the  inkstand  away  from  her  brother. 

"  Wait  a  minute,  wait  a  minute,"   said  he,  dipping  his  pen, 

"You  always  succeed  in  doing  things  at  just  the  wrong 
time,"  exclaimed  Viera.  "There  you  came  running  into 
the  drawing-room,  so  that  every  one  was  mortified  on  your 
aocountr" 

In  spite  of  the  fact,  or  perhaps  because  what  she  said  was 
perfectly  true,  no  one  made  her  any  reply,  and  all  four  only 
exchanged  glances  among  themselves.  Viera  lingered  in  the 
room  holding  the  inkstand  in  her  hand. 

"And  how  can  such  young  things  as  Natasha  and  Boris 
and  you  two,  have  *  secrets ',  —  it's  all  nonsense  ! " 

"  Well,  what  concern  is  it  of  yours,  Viera  ?  "  asked  Natasha, 
in  a  gentle  voice,  defending  herself.  She  was  evidently  more 
than  ordinarily  sweet,  and  well-disposed  to  every  one  just  at 
the  time. 


..■J 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  68 

"  It's  very  stupid,"  said  Viera,  "  I  blush  for  you.  "  What 
sort  of  'secrets  '  "  — 

"Every  one  has  his  own.  We  don't  disturb  you  and  Berg," 
said  Natasha,  hotly. 

'•I  suppose  you  don't  disturb  me,"  said  Viera,  "and  be- 
cause you  can't  find  anything  improper  in  my  behavior.  But 
I  am  going  to  tell  niamenka  how  you  behave  to  Boris." 

"  Natalya  Ilyinishna  behaves  very  well  to  me,"  said  Boris, 
"I  cannot  complain  of  it." 

"Stop,  Boris,  you  are  such  a  diplomat  (the  word  *  dip- 
lomat '  was  in  great  vogue  among  the  young  people,  with  a 
special  meaning  which  they  gave  to  it) ,  "  It's  very  annoy- 
ing," said  Natasha,  in  an  offended,  trembling  voice.  "  Why 
should  she  worry  me  so  ?  You  will  never  understand  such 
things,"  she  added,  turning  to  Viera,  "  because  you  never  were 
in  love  with  any  one,  you  have  no  heart,  you  are  only  Madame 
de  Grenlis  (this  was  a  nickname  considered  very  insulting, 
which  had  been  first  applied  to  Viera  by  Nikolai),  and  your 
chief  pleasure  is  to  cause  other  people  annoyance.  You  may 
flirt  with  Berg  as  much  as  you  please,"  she  said,  spitefully. 

"Well,  at  all  events,  you  don't  find  me  running  after  a 
young  man  in  the  presence  of  visitors." 

"There,  now,  you  have  done  what  you  wanted,"  inter- 
rupted Nikolai,  "you  have  said  all  sorts  of  unpleasant 
things,  and  disturbed  us  all.     Let's  go  to  the  nursery." 

All  four,  like  a  frightened  bevy  of  birds,  jumped  up  and 
flew  out  of  the  room. 

"  It's  you  who  have  been  saying  unpleasant  things,  but  I 
haven't  said  anything  to  any  one,"   cried  Viera. 

"  Madame  de  Glenlis !  Madame  de  Genlis ! "  shouted  the 
merry  voices  from  the  other  room,  through  the  open  door. 

The  handsome  Viera,  who  found  a  sort  of  pleasure  in  doing 
these  unpleasant  and  irritating  things,  smiled,  evidently  undis- 
turbed by  what  was  said  of  her,  went  to  the  mirror  and  rearranged 
her  sash  and  hair.  As  she  caught  a  glimpse  of  her  ])retty  face, 
she  became  to  all  appearances,  cooler  and  more  self-satisfied. 

Meantime,  the  ladies  in  the  drawing-room,  continued  their 
talk: 

"  Ah,  cherBy^  said  the  countess,  "  in  my  life  tout  rCest  pas 
rose.  I  cannot  help  seeing  that  at  the  rate  we  are  going,  * 
our  property  will  not  hold  out  much  longer.  And  then  his 
club,  and  his  easy  ways.  Even  if  we  live  in  the  country, 
how  much  rest  do  we  get  ?     Theatricals,  hunting,  and  heaven 

*  Uu  train  que  nous  allons. 


54  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

knows  what  all.  But  what's  the  use  of  my  talking !  —  Now 
tell  me  how  you  manage  to  get  along.  I  often  marvel  at  you, 
Annette ;  how  it  is  that  you,  at  your  time  of  life,  fly  about 
so  in  your  carriage,  alone,  in  Moscow,  in  Petersburg,  to  all 
the  ministers,  to  all  the  notables,  and  succeed  in  getting 
around  them  all,  I  marvel  at  it !  Now  tell  me  how  you  do  it  ? 
I  cannot  understand  it  at  all." 

"  Ah !  my  dear  heart,"  replied  the  Princess  Anna  Mikhailovna, 
"  May  God  forbid  that  you  ever  learn  by  experience  what  it  is 
to  he  left  a  widow,  and  without  any  protector,  with  a  son 
whom  you  adore.  You  get  schooled  to  everything,"  she* 
went  on  to  say,  with  some  pride.  "  My  lawsuit  has  given 
me  a  great  experience.  If  I  need  to  see  any  'big  wig*,  I  writo 
a  note :  *  Princasse  une  telle  desires  to  see  such  and  such  a 
person,'  and  I  myself  go  in  a  hired  carriage,  twice,  three  times, 
four  times,  until  I  get  what  I  need.  It  is  a  matter  of  in- 
difference to  me  what  they  think  of  me." 

"Well,  now,  how  was  it,  —  whom  did  you  apply  to  for 
Borenka,"  asked  the  countess.  "There  he  is  already  an  oflBcer 
of  the  Guard,  and  my  Nikolushka  is  going  merely  as  ayunker. 
There  was  no  one  to  work  for  him.      Whom  did  you  ask  ?  " 

"  Prince  Vasili.  He  was  very  kind.  He  immediately  con- 
sented to  do  all  in  his  power,  and  he  laid  the  matter  before  the 
Emperor,"  said  the  Princess  Anna  Mikhailovna,  entirely  for- 
getting, in  her  enthusiasm,  all  the  humiliation  through  which 
she  had  passed,  for  the  attainment  of  her  ends. 

"Prince  Vasili  must  have  aged  somewhat,"  queried  the 
countess.  "  I  have  not  seen  him  since  our  theatricals  at  the 
Rumyantsofs.  I  suppose  he  has  entirely  forgotten  me.  II 
mefaisait  la  cour,^*   she  added,  with  a  smile. 

"  He  is  just  the  same  as  ever,"  replied  Anna  Mikhailovna, 
"  Polite  and  full  of  compliments.  His  head  hasn't  been  turned 
at  all  by  all  his  elevation.  *  I  am  grieved  that  it  is  such  a 
small  thing  to  do  for  you,  my  dear  princess,'  said  he. 
*  You  have  only  to  command  me.'  No,  he's  a  splendid  man, 
and  a  lovely  relative  to  have.  But  you  know,  Nathalie,  my 
love  for  my  boy.  I  don't  know  what  I  would  not  do  for  his 
happiness.  But  my  means  are  so  small  for  doing  anything," 
continued  the  princess,  in  a  melancholy  tone,  lowering  her 
voice.  "  They  are  so  small  that  I  am  really  in  a  most  terrible 
position.  My  unlucky  lawsuit  eats  up  all  that  I  have,  and 
is  no  nearer  an  end.  I  have  nothing,  you  can  imagine  it  a 
la  lettre,  I  haven't  a  kopek,  and  I  don't  know  how  I  shall  get 
Boris  his  uniform." 


WAR  AND* PEACE.  55 

She  drew  out  her  handkerchief  and  begun  to  weep,  — 

"I  must  have  five  hundred  rubles,  and  all  I  have  is  a 
twenty-five  ruble  bill.  That's  the  position  I  am  in.  I  have 
only  one  hope  now,  —  in  Kirill  Vladimirovitch  Bezukhoi.  If 
he  will  not  help  out  his  godson  —  for  you  see  he  stood 
sponsor  to  Boris  —  and  grant  him  something  for  his  suppoi-t, 
then  all  my  pains  will  have  been  lost.  I  shall  not  have 
enough  to  pay  for  his  uniform." 

The  countess  shed  some  sympathetic  tears,  and  sat  silently 
pondering. 

"  Maybe,  it's  a  sin,"  said  the  princess,  "  but  I  often  think : 
There  is  Count  Kirill  Bezukhoi,  living  alone  —  that  enormous 
fortune — and  why  does  he  live  on?  Life  is  a  burden  for 
him,  while  Boris  is  only  just  beginning  to  live." 

"He  will  probably  leave  something  to  Boris,"  said  the 
coaiitesif. 

"God  only  knows,  cMre  arnief  These  rich  men  and 
grandees  are  so  selfish !  But,  nevertheless,  I  am  going  right 
away  to  see  hiin  with  Boris,  and  I  am  going  to  tell  him  plainly 
how  things  are.  Let  them  think  what  they  please  of  me,  it  is 
all  the  same  to  me,  when  my  son's  fate  depends  upon  it."  The 
princess  got  up.  "  It  is  now  two  o'clock  and  you  dine  at  four. 
I  shall  have  plenty  of  time  to  go  there." 

And  with  the  decision  of  the  true  Petersburg  lady  of  busi- 
ness, who  knows  how  to  make  the  best  use  of  her  time,  she 
called  her  son  and  went  with  him  into  the  entry. 

"  Good  by,  dear  heart,"  said  she  to  the  countess,  who  accom- 
panied her  to  the  door.  "  Wish  me  good  luck,"  she  added  in  a 
whisper,  so  that  her  son  might  not  hear. 

"  So  you  are  going  to  Count  Kirill  Vladimirovitch,  wa 
chh'e/  "  said  the  count,  coming  out  from  the  dining-room  into 
the  entry.  "If  he  is  better,  ask  Pierre  to  come  and  dine 
with  me.  You  see  he  used  to  be  here  a  great  deal,  and 
danced  with  the  children.  Now  we  shall  see  how  splendidly 
Taras  will  do  by  us  to-day.  He  declares  that  Count  Orlof 
never  had  such  a  dinner  as  we  are  going  to  have  ! " 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

"  Man  cher  Boris,"  said  the  Princess  Anna  Mikhailovna  to 
her  son,  as  the  Countess  Rostova's  carriage,  in  which  they  were 
riding,  rolled  along  the  straw-covered  street  and  entered  the 
wide  court  of  Coxuit  Kirill  Vladimirovitch  Bezukhoi's  rcsi- 


56  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

dence.  ^^  Man  eher  Boris/'  said  the  mother,  stretching  out 
her  hand  from  under  her  old  mantle  and  laying  it  on  her  son's 
with  a  timid  and  affectionate  gesture,  ^'be  amiable  and  con- 
siderate. Count  Kirill  Vladimirovitch  is  your  godfather,  and 
your  prospects  depend  upon  him.  Kemember  this,  mon  eher, 
be  nice  as  you  can  be." 

''If  I  knew  that  anything  would  come  from  this  except 
humiliation,"  replied  the  son,  coldly.  "  But  I  have  given  you 
my  promise,  and  I  do  it  for  your  sake." 

Though  it  was  a  respectable  carriage  that  drove  up  to  the 
steps,  the  Swiss,  noticing  the  lady's  well-worn  mantle,  looked 
askance  at  mother  and  son  (who  without  sending  the  foot- 
man to  announce  them  had  walked  straight  into  the  mirror- 
lined  vestibule,  between  two  rows  of  statues  standing  in 
niches)  and  asked  them  whom  they  wished  to  see,  the  young 
princesses  or  the  count,  and  when  they  said  the  cbunt,  he 
told  them  that  his  excellency  was  worse  and  could  not  receive 
any  one  to-day. 

"  Then  let  us  go,"  said  the  son,  in  French. 

^^ Mon  ami/"  exclaimed  the  mother,  in  an  supplicating 
voice,  again  laying  her  hand  on  his  arm,  as  though  her  touch 
had  the  effect  of  calming  or  encouraging  him.  Boris  said  no 
more,  but  without  removing  his  cloak  looked  dubiously  at  his 
mother. 

"  My  dear,"  *  said  the  princess,  in  a  wheedling  tone,  turning 
to  the  Swiss.  "  I  know  that  the  Count  Kirill  Vladimirovitch 
is  very  ill ;  that's  why  I  came.  I  am  a  relative  of  his.  I  do 
not  wish  to  disturb  him,  my  dear,  I  only  wanted  to  know  — 
see  Prince  Vasili  Sergeyevitch ;  I  understand  that  he  is  here. 
Be  so  good  as  to  announce  us." 

The  Swiss  gruffly  pulled  the  bell  cord  and  turned  away. 

"  Princess  Drubetskaya  for  Prince  Vasili  Sergeyevitch,"  he 
called  to  the  footman  in  smallclothes,  pumps,  and  dress  coat, 
who  ran  to  the  head  of  the  stairs  and  looked  over  from  above. 

The  princess  straightened  the  folds  of  her  dyed  silk  dress, 
glanced  at  the  massive  Venetian  mirror  on  the  wall,  and  firmly 
mounted  the  carpeted  staircase  in  her  old  worn  shoes. 

"  Mon  eher,  vous  m'  avez  promts,"  said,  she,  turning  round 
to  her  son  and  encouraging  him  with  a  touch  of  her  hand. 
The  young  man,  dropping  his  eyes,  silently  followed  her. 

They  went  into  a  hall  which  led  into  the  suite  of   rooms 
occupied  by   Prince  Vasili.     Just  as  the  mother  and   son 
started  to  walk  through  this  room,  and  were  about  to  ask  the 
*  In  the  original  she  calls  him  the  pet  name  golubohik. 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  67 

way  of  an  elderly  footman,  who  had  sprung  to  his  feet  on 
their  approach,  the  bronze  door-knob  of  one  of  the  heavy 
doors  turned,  and  Prince  Vasili  himself,  dressed  in  a  velvet 
fur-trimmed  coat  with  a  single  star,  as  though  he  were  at 
home,  came  in,  escorting  a  handsome,  black-bearded  man. 
This  man  was  the  celebrated  Petersburg  Doctor  Lorrain. 

^^ (Test  done  positif?  "  the  prince  was  saying. 

^^Mon  prince,  *  errare  huinaiium  est ' ;  mais  "  —  replied  the 
doctor,  who  swallowed  his  r's  and  spoke  the  Latin  words,  "To 
err  is  human,"  with  a  strong  French  accent. 

"  (Test  bieuy  c'est  bien  "  — 

Perceiving  Anna  Mikhailovna,  and  her  son.  Prince  Vasili 
dismissed  the  doctor  with  a  bow,  and  advanced  in  silence  and 
with  an  inquiring  look  toward  them.  The  son  noticed  that 
his  mothers  eyes  suddenly  took  on  an  expression  of  deep  con- 
cern and  grief,  and  he  laughed  in  his  sleeve. 

"Under  what  melancholy  circumstances  we  meet  again, 
prince  —  well,  how  is  our  dear  invalid,"  said  she,  as  though  she 
did  not  notice  the  cold,  insulting  glance  fastened  upon  her. 
Prince  Vasili  looked  questioningly  at  her  and  then  at  Boris,  as 
though  he  were  surprised  to  see  them  there. 

Boris  bowed  civily.  Prince  Vasili,  entirely  ignoring  it,  re- 
plied to  Anna  Mikhailovna's  question  by  a  significant  motion 
of  his  head  and  lips,  giving  her  to  understand  that  there  was 
very  slim  hope  for  the  sick  man.       ^ 

"Is  it  possible?"  cried  Anna  Mikhailovna,  "Ah!  this  is 
terrible!  Fearful  to  think.  —  This  is  my  son,"  she  added, 
pointing  to  Boris.  "  He  was  anxious  to  thank  you  in  person," 
Boris  again  bowed  politely. 

"Be  assured,  prince,  that  a  mother^s heart  will  never  forget 
what  you  have  done  for  us." 

"  I  am  glad  if  I  have  been  able  to  be  of  service  to  you,  my 
dear  Aima  Mikhailovna,"  said  Prince  Vasili,  adjusting  his 
frill,  and  manifesting  both  in  tone  and  manner,  here  in  Moscow 
before  Anna  Mikhailovna  whom  he  had  put  under  deep 
obligation,  a  far  more  consequential  air  than  at  Petersburg  at 
Annette  Scherer's  reception. 

"Do  your  best  to  serve  with  credit  and  prove  yourself 
deserving,"  he  added,  turning  to  Boris.  "  I  am  glad.  —  Are 
you  here  on  leave  of  absence  ?  "  he  asked,  in  an  apathetic 
tone. 

"I  am  waiting  for  orders,  your  excellency,  before  setting 
out  for  my  new  position,"  replied  Boris,  manifesting  not  the 
slightest  resentment  of  the  prince's  peremptory  tone,  nor  any 


58  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

inclination  to  pursue  tiie  conversation,  but  bearing  himself 
with  such  dignity  and  deference  that  the  prince  gave  him  a 
scrutinizing  glance. 

*'  Do  you  live  with  your  mother  ?  " 

"I  live  at  the  Countess  Kostova's,"  said  Boris,  again, 
taking  pains  to  add,  "  Your  Excellency." 

'^  It  is  that  Ilya  liostof,  who  married  Kathalie  Shinshina," 
said  Anna  Mikhailovna. 

"  I  know,  I  know,"  returned  Prince  Vasili,  in  his  monoto- 
nous voice.  "  I  never  could  understand  how  Nathalie  made 
up  her  mind  to  marry  that  unlicked  bear,  A  perfectly  stvpid 
and  absurd  creature,  and  a  gambler  besides,  they  say."  ♦ 

"Mats  fres  brave  ho  mi  fie,  mon  2)rinve/^  remarked  Anna 
Mikhailovna,  smiling  with  a  touching  smile,  as  though  she 
too,  knew  very  well  that  Count  liostof  deserved  such  an 
opinion  of  him,  but  did  her  best  to  say  a  good  word  for  the 
poor  old  man. 

"What  do  the  doctors  say,"  asked  the  princess,  after  a 
short  silence,  and  again  allowing  an  expression  of  deep  grief 
to  settle  upon  her  careworn  face. 

"  Very  little  hope,"   said  the  prince. 

"  I  wanted  so  much  to  thank  my  uncle  once  more,  for  all 
his  kindnesses  to  me  and  Boris  —  he's  his  godson,"  she  added 
in  French,  in  such  a  tone  as  though  this  piece  of  information 
must  be  highly  delightful  to  the  prince. 

Prince  Vasili  sat  pondering  and  knitting  his  brows.  Anna 
Mikhailovna  realized  that  he  was  apprehensive  lest  she  were 
a  rival  for  the  count's  inheritance.  IShe  hastened  to  reassure 
him. 

"  If  it  were  not  for  my  true  love  and  devotion  to  my  uncW^ 
said  she,  uttering  the  words,  my  uncle,  with  remarkable 
effrontery  and  unconcern  —  "I  know  his  noble,  straightfor- 
ward character;  but  you  see,  he  has  only  the  young  princesses 
with  him :  they  are  both  so  inexperienced."  She  inclined  her 
head  and  added,  in  a  whisper :  "  Has  he  yet  fulfilled  the 
last  duty,  prince  ?  How  precious  are  these  last  moments ! 
Things  couldn't  be  worse,  he  should  be  prepared  at  once,  if 
he  is  so  ill.  We  women,  prince,"  she  smiled  with  self- 
importance,  "always  understand  how  to  put  these  things. 
It's  indispensable  that  I  should  see  him,  however  hard  it 
may  be  for  me  ;   but  then,  I  am  accustomed  to  sorrow." 

*  **Je  n*ai  jamais  pu  concevoir  comment  Nathalie  s'est  d^cid^e  fpovtter  cet 
ours  mal'UcMI  Un  persomnage  compUUment  stupide  et  ridicule.  Etjoueur 
a  ce  qu*on  dit," 


WAR   AND  PEACE.  59 

The  prince  evidently  knew  only  too  well,  just  as  he  had 
known  at  Annette  Seherer's,  that  he  would  have  no  little 
difficulty  in  getting  rid  of  Anna  Mikhailovna.       ^ 

"This  interview  might  be  very  injurious  for  him,  chere 
Anna  Mikhailovna ;  better  wait  till  evening ;  the  doctors  have 
been  expecting  a  crisis." 

"But  it  is  impossible  to  wait,  prince,  at  such  moments. 
Pensez,  il  y  va  du  salut  de  son  dine  —  Ah  c^est  terrible,  les 
devoirs  d*un  Chretien.'^  * 

A  door  opened,  and  from  an  inner  chamber  appeared  one  of 
the  count's  nieces,  a  young  lady  with  a  sour,  cold  face,  and 
with  a  waist  disproportionately  long  for  her  stature. 

Prince  Vasili  went  toward  her :  "  Well,  how  is  he  ?  " 

"Just  about  the  same  ;  but  what  could  you  expect  —  this 
noise,"  said  the  princess,  staring  at  Anna  Mikhailovna  as 
though  she  were  a  stranger. 

"Ah,  chere,  I  did  not  recognize  you,"  exclaimed  Anna  Mi- 
khailovna, with  a  beaming  smile  and  ambling  lightly  forward 
toward  the  count's  niece.  "  I  have  just  come,  and  1  am  at  your 
service  to  help  you  take  care  of  my  uncle.  1  can  imagine  how 
much  yoxi  have  suffered,"  t  she  added,  still  in  French,  and 
sympathetically  turning  up  her  eyes. 

The  count's  niece  made  no  reply,  nor  did  she  even  smile, 
but  immediately  left  the  room.  Anna  Mikhailovna  took  off 
her  gloves  and  established  herself  in  an  arm-chair  as  though 
ready  to  endure  a  siege,  and  motioned  to  the  prince  to  sit  down 
near  her. 

"  Boris,"  said  she  to  her  son,  and  with  a  smile,  "  I  am  going 
to  see  the  count,  my  uncle ;  in  the  meantime,  inon  ami,  you  go 
and  find  Pierre,  and  don't  forget  to  give  him  the  invitation 
from  the  Rostofs.  They  ask  him  to  dinner.  I  think  very 
likely  he  may  not  wish  to  come,"  she  suggested,  turning  to  the 
prince. 

"On  the  contrary,'^  returned  the  prince,  evidently  very 
much  annoyed,  "I  should  be  very  glad  to  have  him  taken  off 
my  hands.  He  stays  m  his  own  room.  The  count  has  not 
asked  for  him  once." 

He  shrugged  his  shoulders.  A  footman  conducted  the 
young  man  downstairs  and  then  up,  by  another  flight,  to  Pierre's 
quarters. 

*  Jost  thiiik,  it  ooDcems  his  sours  safety.—  Ah,  it  is  terrible,  the  duties  of 
a  Cliristian." 

t  **  Je  viens  d'arriver,  et  je  mis  a  vous  pour  vous  aider  a  soigner  mon 
oncle.    J^ imagine  combien  vous  avez  souffert," 


60  WAR  AND  PEACE. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

PiEBRE  had  not  succeeded  in  choosing  a  career  for  himself 
when  he  was  sent  to  Moscow  on  account  of  his  disorderly  con- 
duct. The  story  which  had  been  related  at  Count  Rostof's 
was  correct :  Pierre  had  been  one  of  the  young  men  who  had 
tied  the  policeman  on  the  bear's  back. 

He  had  arrived  in  Moscow  a  few  days  previous,  and  taken 
up  his  abode  as  usual  in  his  father's  house.  Although  he  fore- 
saw that  the  story  would  be  noised  abroad  in  Moscow,  and  that 
the  ladies  who  formed  his  father's  household  and  who  were 
always  hostile  to  him,  would  take  advantage  of  this  occurrence 
to  irritate  the  count  against  him,  he  nevertheless,  on  the  very 
day  of  his  arrival  started  to  go  to  his  father's  apartments. 

As  he  went  into  the  drawing-room,  where  the  princesses 
usually  sat,  he  stopped  to  pay  his  respects  to  the  ladies,  who 
were  there  busy  with  their  embroidery-frame  and  in  listening 
to  a  book  which  one  of  them  was  reading  aloud. 

There  were  three  of  them.  The  oldest,  a  severely  prim  old 
maid  with  a  long  waist  —  the  very  one  who  had  made  the  de- 
scent upon  Anna  Mikhailovna,  was  the  reader ;  the  younger 
ones,  both  rosy -cheeked  and  rather  pretty,  and  exactly  ali]ke, 
except  that  one  of  them  had  a  little  mole  on  her  lip,  decidedly 
adding  to  her  beauty,  were  engaged  at  the  embroidery-frame. 

Pierre  was  received  like  a  ghost  or  a  leper.  The  oldest  prin- 
cess ceased  reading  and  silently  looked  at  him  with  eyes  ex- 
pressive of  alarm.  The  one  without  the  mole  did  the  same. 
The  third,  who  had  the  mole  and  some  sense  of  the  ludicrous, 
bent  over  the  embroidery  to  conceal  a  smile,  caused  by  what 
she  thought  promised  to  be  an  amusing  scene.  She  drew  the 
thread  down  and  bent  over,  as  though  studying  the  pattern, 
but  in  reality  to  hide  her  laugh. 

"  Bonjour,  ma  cotisine,^^  said  Pierre.  "  Vous  ne  ine  reconnais- 
sez  pas  ?  " 

"  I  know  you  very  well,  altogether  too  well." 

"  How  is  the  count  ?  Can  I  see  him  ?  "  asked  Pierre,  awk- 
wardly as  usual,  but  still  not  disconcerted. 

"  The  count  is  suffering,  both  physically  and  mentally,  and 
it  seems  you  have  taken  pains  to  cause  him  the  greater  part  of 
his  moral  suffering." 

"  Can  I  see  the  count  ?  "  repeated  Pierre. 

"  Hm !     If  you  desire  to  kill  him,  to  kill  him  out  and  out. 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  61 

then  you  can  see  him.  Olga,  go  and  see  if  the  bouillon  is 
ready  for  uncle,  it  is  high  time,"  she  added,  making  Pierre  see 
by  this  that  they  were  wholly  absorbed  in  caring  for  his 
father,  while  he,  on  the  contrary,  was  palpably  bent  on  annoy- 
ing him. 

Olga  left  the  room.  Pierre  stood  still,  looking  at  the  sis- 
ters and  then  said  with  a  bow,  — • 

"  Then  I  will  go  back  to  ray  room.  As  soon  as  it  is  possible 
you  will  please  tell  me." 

He  went  out  and  behind  his  back  was  heard  the  young 
princess's  laugh,  ringing  but  not  loud. 

On  the  next  day  came  Prince  Vasili  and  put  up  at  the 
count's.     He  called  Pierre  to  him  and  said,  — 

"lfo»  cker,  si  vous  iwus  conduisez  ici  comme  a  Petershourgy 
votisfinirez  tres  mat ;  c^est  tout  ce  que  vous  dis.*  The  count  is 
very,  very  ill ;  it  is  imperative  that  you  should  not  see  him." 

From  that  time,  Pierre  had  been  left  severely  alone,  and 
spent  his  days  in  solitude,  upstairs  in  his  own  rooms. 

At  the  moment  that  Boris  appeared  at  the  door,  Pierre  was 
walking  up  and  down  his  room,  occasionally  pausing  in  the 
comers  and  making  threatening  gestures  at  the  walls,  as 
though  trying  to  thrust  through  some  unknown  enemy,  and 
looking  savagely  over  his  spectacles  and  then  again  beginning 
his  promenade,  muttering  indistinct  words,  shrugging  his 
shoulders  and  spreading  out  his  hands. 

^^UAjigleterre  a  vecu^^  he  was  declaiming,  with  a  frown 
and  pointing  at  some  imaginary  person  with  his  finger. 
"-ST.  Pitt  J  eomme  trattre  a  la  nation  et  au  droit  des  gens,  est 
condamne  a"  —  f 

But  he  had  no  time  to  complete  his  denunciation  of  Pitt 
spoken  by  himself,  pei-sonating  his  hero  Napoleon,  in  whose 
company  he  imagined  himself  crossing  the  perilous  Dover 
Straits  and  already  taking  London  by  storm,  before  he  caught 
sight  of  a  handsome,  well-built  young  officer  coming  towards 
him. 

He  stopped  short. 

Boris  was  a  lad  of  fourteen  when  he  had  last  seen  him,  and 
he  did  not  recognize  him  at  all ;  but,  nevertheless,  he  seized 
him  by  the  hand  in  his  impulsive,  cordial  way,  and  smiled 
affectionately. 

•  My  dear  feUow,  if  yon  carry  on  here  as  you  have  at  Petersburg,  you  will 
come  out  very  badly ;  that's  all  I  have  to  say  to  you. 

t  England  has  outlived  its  glory ;  Pitt,  as  a  traitor  to  the  nation  and  to  the 
Iftw  of  nations,  is  condemned  to' ^ — 


62  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

"  Do  you  remember  me  ? "  asked  Boris,  calmly,  with  a 
pleasant  smile.  "  I  came  with  my  mother  to  see  the  count, 
but  it  seems  he  is  too  ill  to  receive  us." 

"Yes,  he  is  very  ill.  They  keep  him  stirred  up  all  the 
time,"  returned  Pierre,  striving  to  recollect  who  this  young 
man  was. 

Boris  was  certain  that  Pierre  did  not  recognize  him,  but  he 
did  not  think  it  necessary  to  tell  his  name,  and  without  mani- 
festing the  slightest  awkwardness  he  looked  him  full  in  the 
face. 

"Count  Rostof  invites  you  to  dine  with  him  this  afternoon," 
said  he,  after  a  rather  long  silence  that  made  Pierre  feel 
uncomfortable. 

"Ah!  Count  Rostof,"  exclaimed  Pierre,  joyfully.  "Then 
you  are  his  son  Ilya.  At  the  first  instant  I  did  not  recognize 
you,  as  you  can  easily  imagine.  Do  you  remember  how  you 
and  I  and  Madame  Jaquot  used  to  go  out  walking  on  the 
Sparrow  Hills  — years  ago  ?  " 

"You  are  mistaken,"  said  Boris  deliberately,  and  with  a 
bold  and  rather  derisive  smile ;  "  I  am  Boris,  the  son  of  the 
Princess  Anna  Mikliailovna  Drubetskaya.  RostoFs  father  is 
named  Ilya,  and  his  name  is  Nikolai.  And  I  never  knew 
Madame  Jaquot." 

Pierre  made  a  gesture  with  his  hands  and  head,  as  though 
he  were  driving  away  mosquitoes. 

"  Ah  !  is  that  so  indeed  !  I  have  mixed  everything  all  up^ 
I  have  so  many  relatives  in  Moscow !  So  you  are  Boris — yes. 
Well,  you  and  I  seem  to  have  begun  with  a  misunderstanding. 
Well,  what  do  you  think  of  the  expedition  to  Boulogne  ?  It 
will  go  pretty  hard  with  the  English  if  only  Napoleon  crosses 
the  Channel,  won't  it  ?  I  think  the  expedition  is  feasible,  if 
only  Villeneuve  doesn't  fail  him." 

Boris  knew  nothing  about  the  Boulogne  expedition ;  he  had 
not  read  the  newspapers,  and  this  was  the  first  time  he  had 
ever  heard  of  Villeneuve. 

"  We  here  in  IMoscow  are  more  taken  up  with  dinners  and 
gossip  than  with  politics,"  said  he,  in  his  calm,  satirical  tone. 
"  I  know  nothing  about  such  things.  Moscow  is  given  over 
especially  to  tittle-tattle,"  he  went  on  to  say.  "Now  you  and 
the  count  are  the  talk." 

Pierre  smiled  his  good-natured  ^mile,  as  though  to  depre- 
cate anything  unpleasant  which  his  companion  might  be  likely 
to  say.  But  I^oris  s]>oke  with  due  circumspection,  clearly  and 
dryly,  looking  straight  into  Pierre's  eyes. 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  63 

"  Moscow  likes  to  do  nothing  better  than  talk  gossip/'  he 
repeated.  "All  are  solicitous  about  knowing  to  whom  the 
count  is  going  to  leave  his  property ;  and  yet,  very  possibly, 
he  will  outlive  all  of  us.    I  hope  so  with  all  my  heart." 

"  Yes,  this  is  all  very  trying,"  interrupted  Pierre,  —  "  very 
trying."  Pierre  all  the  time  was  apprehensive  lest  this  young 
officer  should  unexpectedly  turn  the  conversation  into  some 
awkward  channel. 

"But  it  must  seem  to  you,"  said  Boris,  flushing  slightly, 
but  not  allowing  his  voice  or  his  manner  to  vary,  —  "  it  must 
seem  to  you  that  all  take  an  interest  in  this  simply  because 
they  hope  to  get  something  from  the  estate."  • 

"  Here  it  comes,"  thought  Pierre. 

"I  expressly  wish  to  tell  you,  lest  any  misunderstanding 
should  arise,  that  you  are  entirely  mistaken  if  you  consider 
me  and  my  mother  in  the  number  of  these  people.  We  are 
very  poor,  but  I  at  least  say  this  on  my  own  account  for  the 
very  reason  that  your  father  is  rich,  that  I  do  not  consider 
myself  a  relative  of  his,  and  neither  I  nor  my  mother  would 
ask  or  even  be  willing  to  receive  anything  from  him." 

Pierre  for  some  time  failed  to  comprehend,  but  when  the 
idea  dawned  upon  him,  he  leaped  from  the  sofa,  seized  Boris 
under  the  arm  with  characteristic  impetuosity  and  clumsiness, 
and  while  he  reddened  even  more  than  the  other,  he  began  to 
speak  with  a  mixed  feeling  of  vexation  and  shame, — 

"  Now,  this  is  strange !  I  then  —  indeed  and  who  would 
have  ever  thought  —  I  know  very  well "  — 

But  Boris  again  interrupted  him. 

"  I  am  glad  that  I  have  told  you  all.  Perhaps  it  was  dis- 
agreeable to  you ;  you  will  pardon  me,"  said  he,  soothing 
Pierre  instead  of  letting  himself  be  soothed  by  him.  "I 
hope  that  I  have  not  offended  you.  It  is  a  principle  with 
me  to  speak  right  to  the  point.  What  answer  am  I  to  give  ? 
Will  you  come  to  dinner  to  the  Rostofs  ?  " 

And  Boris,  having  acquitted  himself  of  a  difficult  explana- 
tion, and  got  himself  out  of  an  awkward  position  by  putting 
another  into  it,  again  became  perfectly  agreeable. 

"Now,  look  here,  listen,"  said  Pierre,  calming  down.  "You 
are  a  remarkable  man.  What  you  have  just  said  is  very  good, 
very  good.  Of  course  you  don't  know  me.  We  have  not  met 
for  a  long  time  —  we  were  still  children.  You  might  have 
had  all  sorts  of  ideas  about  me.  I  understand  you,  under- 
stand you  perfectly.  I  should  not  have  done  such  a  thing,  I 
should  not  have  had  the  courage,  but  it  is  excellent.     I  am 


64  ^aA  and  peace, 

very  glad  to  have  made  your  acquaintance.  Strange,"  he 
added,  after  a  short  silence  and  smiling,  —  "  Strange  that  you 
should  have  had  such  an  idea  of  me."  He  laughed.  "  Well, 
who  knows  ?     We  shall  get  better  acquainted,  I  beg  of  you." 

He  pressed  Boris's  hand.  "  Do  you  know,  I  have  not  seen 
the  count  yet  ?  He  has  not  asked  for  me.  It  is  trying  to  me 
as  a  man,  but  what  can  I  do  about  it  ?  " 

"And  do  you  think  that  Napoleon  will  succeed  in  getting 
his  army  across  ?  "  asked  Boris  with  a  smile. 

Pierre  understood  that  Boris  wanted  to  change  the  conversa- 
tion, and  taking  his  cue  he  began  to  expound  the  advantages 
and  disadvantages  of  the  Boulogne  expedition. 

A  footman  came  to  summon  Boris  to  his  mother.  The  prin- 
cess was  ready  to  start.  Pierre,  looking  affectionately  through 
his  spectacles,  promised  to  come  and  dine  with  the  Rostofs  so 
as  to  get  better  acquainted  with  Boris,  whose  hand  he  pressed 
warmly  as  they  parted. 

After  he  was  left  alone,  Pierre  still  paced  for  a  long  time 
up  and  down  the  room,  no  longer  threatening  an  invisible 
enemy  with  the  sword,  but  smiling  at  the  thought  of  this 
likeable  young  man  who  was  so  intelligent  and  clever  and 
decided.  As  often  happens  in  early  youth,  and  especially 
when  a  man  is  lonesome,  he  felt  an  inexplicable  affection  for 
the  lad,  and  promised  himself  that  they  should  become  good 
friends. 

Prince  Vasili  escorted  the  princess  to  the  door.  The  good 
lady  held  her  handkerchief  to  her  eyes,  and  there  were  traces 
of  tears  on  her  cheeks. 

"This  is  terrible,  terrible  ! "  she  exclaimed.  "But,  so  far 
as  in  me  lay,  I  fulfilled  my  duty.  I  will  come  back  and  spend 
the  night.  It  is  impossible  to  leave  him  in  such  a  state. 
Every  moment  is  precious.  I  cannot  understand  why  the 
princesses  have  delayed  about  it.  Perhaps  God  will  enable 
me  to  find  some  means  of  preparing  him.  Adieu,  mon  prince^ 
que  le  hon  Dieu  ifouji  soutienne,'^ 

" Adieu,  ma  bonne"  replied  Prince  Vasili,  as  he  turned  away 
from  her. 

"  Ah,  he  is  in  a  frightful  state,"  said  the  princess  to  Boris, 
after  they  had  again  taken  their  seats  in  the  carriage.  "  He 
scarcely  knows  any  one." 

"  I  cannot  understand,  mamenka,  what  his  feelings  are  in 
regard  to  Pierre,  can  you  ?  "  asked  the  son. 

"  Everything  will  be  made  clear  by  his  will,  my  dear ;  our 
fate  also  depends  upon  that." 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  66 

''What  makes  you  think  that  he  is  going  to  leave  anything 
tons?" 
"Ah !  my  dear,  he  is  so  rich  and  we  are  so  poor." 
''  Well,  that  is  a  most  inconclusiye  reason,  mamenka." 
"Ah,  my  Grod,  my  God,  how  ill  he  is,"  exclaimed  the  mother. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

After  Anna  Mikhailovna  and  her  son  had  gone  to  Count 
Bezukhoi's,  the  Countess  Rostova  sat  for  some  time  alone, 
applying  her  handkerchief  to  her  eyes.  At  last  she  rang  the 
bell. 

"What  is  the  matter  with  you,  my  dear?"  she  demanded 
severely  of  the  maid,  who  had  kept  her  waiting  several  min- 
utes. "Don't  you  care  to  serve  me?  If  not,  I  can  find 
another  place  for  you." 

The  countess  was  greatly  affected  by  her  old  friend's  gprief 
and  humiliation,  and  therefore  she  was  out  of  sorts,  as  could 
be  told  by  her  sjieaking  to  the  maid  by  the  formal  vtii,  "  you," 
and  milii/a,  "  dear." 

"  Beg  pardon,"  said  the  girl. 

"Ask  the  count  to  come  to  me." 

The  count  came  waddling  to  his  wife  with  a  rather  guilty 
look,  as  usual. 

"  Well,  little  countess,*  what  a  saute  au  madere  of  woodcock 
we  are  going  to  have,  ma  chh^ef  I  have  been  trying  it. 
Taras  is  well  worth  the  thousand  rubles  that  I  give  for  hiui. 
It  was  well  spent." 

He  took  a  seat  near  his  wife,  with  an  affectation  of  bravery, 
leaning  one  hand  on  his  knee  and  with  the  other  rumpling  up 
his  gray  hair  :   "  What  do  you  wish,  little  countess  ?  " 

"  See  there,  my  love ;  how  did  you  get  that  spot  on  you," 
said  she,  pointing  to  his  waistcoat.  "  It  is  evidently  some  of 
your  «<7Mf6,"  she  added,  with  a  smile.  "  See  here,  count :  I 
need  some  money." 

His  face  grew  mournful.  "Ah I  little  countess!"  And  the 
count  made  a  great  ado  in  gitting  out  his  pocket-book. 

"I  want  a  good  deal,  count;  I  want  five  hundred  rubles." 
And  she  took  her  cambric  handkerchief  and  began  to  rub  her 
husband's  waistcoat. 

"  You  shall  have  it  at  once.  Hey,  there  ! "  cried  the  count, 
in  a  tone  used  only  by  men  who  are  certain  that  those  whom 

•  Graphinyushka, 
VOL.  1.— 5. 


66  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

they  command  will  rush  headlong  at  their  call.     "SendMit- 
enka  to  me  ! " 

Mitenka,  the  nobleman's  son  whom  the  count  had  brought 
up  and  had  now  put  in  charge  of  all  his  affairs,  came  with  soft 
noiseless  steps  into  the  room. 

"  See  here,  my  dear,"  said  the  count  to  the  deferential  young 
man  as  he  entered  the  door ;  "  bring  me,"  —  he  hesitated,  — 
"yes,  bring  me  seven  hundred  rubles,  yes.  And  see  here, 
don't  bring  such  torn  and  filthy  ones  as  you  do  sometimes, 
but  clean  ones  :  they  are  for  the  countess." 

"Yes,  Mitenka,  please  see  that  they  are  clean,"  said  the 
countess,  with  a  sigh. 

"  Your  excellency,  when  do  you  wish  them,"  asked  Mitenka ; 
"you  will  deign  to  know  that — however,  don't  allow  your- 
self to  be  uneasy,"  he  added,  perceiving  that  the  count  was 
already  beginning  to  breathe  heavily  and  rapidly,  which  was 
always  a  sign  of  a  burst  of  rage.  —  "I  had  forgotten.  Will 
you  please  to  have  them  this  instant  ?  " 

"  Yes,  yes,  instantly  ;  bring  them.  Give  them  to  the  coun- 
tess." 

"  What  a  treasure  that  Mitenka  is  ! "  he  added  with  a  smile, 
as  the  young  man  left  the  room,  "  He  never  finds  anything 
impossible.  That  is  a  thing  I  cannot  endure.  All  things  are 
possible." 

"  Ah  !  money,  count,  money  ;  how  much  sorrow  it  causes  in 
the  world ! "  exclaimed  the  countess.  "  But  this  money  is 
very  important  for  me." 

"  Little  countess,  you  are  a  terrible  spendthrift,"  declared 
the  count,  and  kissing  his  wife's  hand  he  disappeared  again 
into  his  own  apartment. 

When  Anna  Mikhailovna  returned  from  her  visit  to  Bezu- 
khoi,  the  money,  all  in  new  clean  bank  notes,  was  lying  on  a 
stand  under  a  handkerchief  in  the  countess's  room.  Anna 
Mikhailovna  noticed  that  the  countess  was  excited  over  some- 
thing. 

"  Well,  my  dear  ?  "  asked  the  countess. 

"  Ah  !  he's  in  a  terrible  state  !  you  would  never  know  him, 
he  is  so  ill,  so  ill !  I  stayed  only  a^^ort  minute  and  didn't  say 
two  words." 

"  Annette,  for  heaven's  sake,  don't  refuse  me,"  suddenly 
exclaimed  the  countess,  taking  out  the  money  from  under  the 
handkerchief,  while  her  old,  thin,  grave  face  flushed  in  a  way 
that  was  strange  to  see. 

Anna  Mikhailovna  instantly  understood  what  she  meant^ 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  C7 

^d  was  already  bending  over  so  as  to  embrace  the  countess 
gracefullj  at  the  right  moment. 

**  It  is  from  me  to  Boris,  for  his  outfit." 

Anna  Mikhailovna  interrupted  her  by  throwing  her  arras 
around  her  and  bursting  into  tears.  The  countess  wept  with 
her.  They  wept  because  they  were  friends  and  because  they 
were  kind-hearted,  and  because,  having  been  friends  from  child- 
hood, they  were  now  occupied  with  such  a  sordid  matter  as 
money,  and  because  their  youth  had  past.  But  theirs  were 
pleasant  tears. 

CHAPTER  XVI. 

The  Countess  Rostova,  with  her  daughters  and  a  consider- 
able number  of  guests,  was  sitting  in  the  drawing-room.  The 
count  had  taken  the  men  into  his  cabinet  and  was  showing 
them  his  favorite  collection  of  Turkish  pipes.  Occasionally, 
he  would  go  out  and  ask :  "  Hasn't  she  come  yet  ?  " 

They  were  waiting  for  Mary  a  Dmitrievna  Akhrosimova, 
called  in  society  le  terrible  dragon :  a  lady  who  was  distin- 
guished not  for  her  wealth  or  her  titles,  but  for  the  honesty  of 
her  character,  and  her  frank,  simple  ways.  The  imperial  fam- 
ily knew  her,  all  Moscow  knew  her,  and  all  Petersburg,  and 
both  cities,  while  they  laughed  at  her  on  the  sly  and  related 
anecdotes  of  her  brusque  manners,  nevertheless,  without  ex- 
ception, respected  and  feared  her. 

The  conversation  in  the  cabinet,  which  was  full  of  smoke, 
turned  on  the  war  which  had  just  been  declared  through  a  man- 
ifesto in  regard  to  the  recruiting.  No  one  had,  as  yet,  read 
the  manifesto,  but  all  were  aware  of  its  appearance. 

The  count  was  sitting  on  a  low  ottoman,  between  two  of  his 
friends,  who  were  talking  and  smoking.  He,  himself,  did  not 
smoke  and  did  not  talk,  but,  inclining  his  head  now  to  one 
side,  now  to  the  other,  he  looked  with  manifest  satisfaction 
at  those  who  did,  and  listened  to  the  conversation  of  his  two 
friends,  whom  he  had  already  set  by  the  ears. 

One  of  the  men  was  a  civilian,  with  a  wrinkled,  sallow,  lean 
and  cleanly-shaven  face ;  though  he  was  approaching  old  ap^o, 
he  was  dressed  in  the  height  of  style,  like  a  young  man ;  he 
was  sitting  with  his  feet  on  the  ottoman,  like  a  man  thoroughly 
at  home,  and  holding  the  amber  mouthpiece  at  one  side  of 
his  mouth  was  sucking  strenuously  at  the  smoke,  and  frowning 
over  the  effort.  This  was  the  old  bachelor,  Shinshin,  the 
countess's  own  cousin,  a  "  venomous  tongue,"  as  it  was  said  of 


68  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

him  in  IVloscow  drawing-rooms.  He  talked  as  though  it  were 
ail  act  of  condescension  toward  his  opponent. 

The  other,  a  fresh,  ruddy  young  officer  of  the  Guard,  irre- 
proachably belted,  buttoned,  and  barbered,  held  the  mouth- 
piece in  the  middle  of  his  mouth,  and  gently  sucked  the  smoke 
through  his  rosy  lips,  sending  it  out  in  rings  from  his  hand- 
some mouth.  This  was  Lieutenant  Berg,  an  officer  of  the 
Seniyenovsky  regiment,  with  whom  Boris  was  going  to  the 
army  ;  the  very  person  about  whom  Natasha  had  teased  Viera 
by  calling  him  her  lover. 

The  count  was  sitting  between  these  two  and  listening 
attentively.  The  occupation  that  the  count  enjoyed  most, 
next  to  the  game  of  Boston,  of  which  he  was  very  fond,  was 
that  of  listener,  especially  when  he  had  a  chance  to  get  two 
good  talkers  on  the  opposite  sides  of  an  argument. 

"  Well  now,  batyushka,  my  most  honorable  Alphouse  Kar- 
litch,"  said  Shinshin,  with  a  sneer,  and,  as  his  custojn  was  when 
he  talked,  mixing  up  the  most  colloquial  Russian  expressions 
with  the  most  refined  French  idioms,  "  your  idea  is  to  make 
money  out  of  the  state  ?  you  expect  to  get  a  nice  little  income 
from  your  company,  do  you  ?  " 

"Not  at  all,  Piotr  Nikolaitch,  I  only  wish  to  prove  that 
the  advantages  of  serving  in  the  cavalry  are  far  less  than  in 
the  infantry.  You  can  now  imagine  my  position,  Piotr  Niko- 
laitch." 

Berg  always  spoke  very  accurately,  calmly,  and  politely. 
His  conversation  invariably  had  himself  as  its  central  point; 
he  always  preserved  a  discreet  silence  when  people  were  talk- 
ing about  anything  that  did  not  directly  concern  himself,  and 
he  could  sit  that  way  silently  for  houi*s  without  feeling  or 
causing  others  to  feel  the  slightest  sense  of  awkwardnes.  But 
as  soon  as  the  conversation  touched  any  subject  in  which  he 
was  personally  interested,  he  would  b(*gin  to  talk  at  length  and 
with  evident  satisfjiction. 

"  Consider  my  position,  Piotr  Nikolaitch :  if  I  were  in  the 
cavalry  I  should  not  receive  more  than  two  hundred  a  quarter, 
even  with  the  rank  of  lieutenant,  but  now  I  get  two  hundred 
and  thirty,"  said  he,  with  a  pleasant,  joyful  smile,  glancing  at 
Shinshin  and  the  count,  as  though  it  were  plain  for  him  that 
his  success  would  always  be  an  object  of  interest  to  everybody 
else. 

"  Moreover,  Piotr  Nikolaitch,"  continued  Berg,  "  by  being 
transferred  to  the  Guard,  I  am  in  sight ;  vacancies  in  the  in- 
fantry occur  far  more  often.     Then,  you  can  see  for  yourself. 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  69 

on  two  hundred  and  thirty  rublrs  a  quarter,  how  well  I  can 
live.  I  can  lay  up  some  and  send  some  to  my  father,  too/'  he 
went  on  to  say,  puffing  out  a  spiral  of  smoke. 

"That's  where  the  difference  lies,  a  German  can  grind 
com  on  the  but  of  his  hatchet,  as  the  proverb  puts  it,"  said 
Shinshin,  shifting  the  mouthpiece  of  his  pipe  to  the  other  side 
of  his  mouth  and  winking  at  the  count. 

The  count  laughed  heartily.  The  other  guests,  seeing  that 
Shinshin  was  engaged  in  a  lively  conversation,  crowded  round 
to  listen.  Berg,  remarking  neither  the  quizzical  nor  indiffer- 
ent looks  of  the  others,  proceeded  to  explain  how,  by  his  trans- 
fer to  the  Guard,  he  would  attain  rank  before  his  comrades  of 
the  Corpus ;  how,  in  time  of  war,  the  company  commanders 
were  apt  to  be  killed ;  and  he,  if  left  the  senior  in  the  com- 
pany, might  very  easily  become  a  captain ;  and  how  everybody 
in  the  regiment  liked  him,  and  how  proud  of  him  his  papenka 
was. 

Berg  evidently  took  great  delight  in  telling  all  this,  and  he 
never  seemed  to  suspect  that  other  people  had  also  their  inter- 
ests. But  all  that  he  said  was  so  suavely  serious,  the  naivete 
of  his  youthful  egotism  was  so  palpable,  that  he  quite  disarmed 
his  auditors. 

"Well,  my  lad,*  whether  yo.u  are  in  the  infantry  or  in  the 
gnard,  you .  will  get  on  ;  that  I  can  predict,"  said  Shinshin, 
tapping  him  on  the  shoulder  and  setting  his  feet  down  from 
the  ottoman.  Berg  smiled  with  self-satisfaction.  The  count, 
followed  by  his  guests,  passed  into  the  drawing-room. 

It  was  the  time  just  before  dinner  is  announced  when  the 
assembled  guests,  in  expectation  of  being  summoned  to  par- 
take of  the  zakuska,  are  disinclined  to  entering  any  detailed 
conversation  and,  at  the  same  time,  feel  that  it  is  incumbent 
upon  them  to  stir  about  and  say  something,  in  order  to  show 
that  they  are  in  no  haste  to  sit  down. 

The  host  and  hostess  keep  watching  the  dining  door  and 
exchange  glances  from  time  to  time.  The  guests  try  to  read 
in  those  glances  for  whom  or  for  what  they  are  waiting ;  some 
belated  influential  connection,  or  for  some  dish  that  is  not  done 
in  time. 

Pierre  came  in  just  before  the  dinner  hour,  and  awkwardly 
sat  down  in  the  first  chair  that  he  saw,  right  in  the  middle  of 
the  drawing-room,  so  that  he  was  in  everyl)ody's  way.  The 
countess  tried  to  engage  him  in  conversation,  but  he  merely 

*  Bdlyushka,  littlo  father. 


n 


70  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

answered  lier  questions  in  monosyllables  and  kept  looking 
naively  around  him  through  his  spectacles,  as  though  in  search 
of  some  one.  It  was  exceedingly  annoying,  but  he  was  the 
only  person  who  did  not  notice  it.  The  majority  of  the 
guests,  knowing  about  his  adventure  with  the  bear,  looked 
curiously  at  this  big,  tall,  quiet-looking  man,  and  found  it 
(litftcult  to  believe  that  such  a  burly,  unassuming  creature 
could  have  played  such  a  trick  on  a  police  officer. 

"  Have  you  only  just  come  ?  "  asked  the  countess. 

"Owi,  madanie"  replied  he,  glancing  around. 

"  You  have  not  seen  my  husband  ?  " 

"  Nofif  madame"  And  he  smiled  at  absolutely  the  wrong 
time. 

"You  were  in  Paris  lately,  I  believe.  I  think  it  is  very 
interesting." 

"  Very  interesting." 

The  countess  exchanged  glances  with  Anna  Mikhailovua, 
who  perceived  that  she  was  wanted  to  take  charge  of  this 
young  man.  She  took  a  seat  by  his  side  and  began  to  talk  to 
him  about  his  father,  but  he  answered  her,  just  as  he  had  the 
countess,  merely  in  monosyllables.  The  other  guests  were  all 
engaged  in  little  groups  :  "  Les  Razoumovsky,"  — "  That  was 
charming,"  —  "  You  are  very  good,"  —  "  La  Comtesse  Apnik- 
sine,"  were  the  broken  phrases  that  were  heard  on  all  sides. 
The  countess  got  up  and  went  into  the  hall.  "  Is  that  you, 
Marya  Dmitrievna  ?  "  rang  her  voice  through  the  hall. 

"  My  own  self,"  was  the  answer  in  a  harsh  voice,  and  imme- 
diately after,  Marya  Dmitrievna  entered  the  room.  All  the 
young  ladies  and  even  the  married  women,  except  those  who 
were  aged,  rose.  Marya  Dmitrievna  paused  in  the  doorway. 
She  was  tall  and  erect,  fifty  years  old,  and  wore  her  gray  hair 
in  ringlets.  Under  the  pretext  of  turning  back  and  adjusting 
the  wide  sleeves  of  her  dress,  she  took  a  deliberate  survey  of 
all  the  guests.     Marya  Dmitrievna  always  spoke  in  Russian. 

"Congratulations  to  the  dear  ones,"  said  she,  in  her  loud 
deep  voice,  which  drowned  all  other  sounds.  "  Well,  you  old 
sinner,  how  are  you?"  she  said,  addressing  the  count,  who 
kissed  her  hand.  "  I  suppose  you  are  bored  to  death  in  Mos- 
cow ?  Iley  ?  No  chance  to  let  out  the  dogs.  Well,  what's  to 
be  done,  batyushka,  when  you  have  these  birds  already  grown 
up  ? "  She  waved  her  hand  toward  the  young  ladies. 
"Whether  you  wish  it  or  no,  you  have  got  to  find  husbands 
for  them.  Well,  my  Cossack,"  said  she  (Marya  Dmitrievna 
always  called  Natasha  the  Cossack),  smoothing  Natasha's  hair 


1 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  71 

as  she  came  running  up  to  kiss  her  hand  gayly  and  without 
any  fear.  "  I  know  that  this  little  girl  is  a  madcap,  but  I  am 
fond  of  her  all  the  same." 

She  took  out  of  a  monstrous  reticule  a  pair  of  pear-shaped 
ametliyst  earrings,  and  gave  them  to  the  blushing  Natasha  in 
honor  of  her  name  day;  then  she  turned  immediately  upon 
Pierre. 

"  He !  h^  !  my  dear !  come  here,  right  here  ! "  she  cried  in 
a  pretendedly  gentle  voice.  "Come  here,  my  dear  fellow." 
And  she  threateningly  pulled  her  sleeve  still  higher. 

Pierre  went  to  her,  ingenuously  looking  at  her  through  his 
spectacles.    ' 

"Come  here,  come,  my  dear  fellow.  I  have  been  the  only 
one  who  dared  tell  your  father  the  whole  truth  when  ha 
required  it,  and  now  I  shall  do  the  same  in  your  case.  It's 
God's  will." 

She  paused.  All  held  their  breath,  waiting  for  what  was  to 
come,  and  feeling  that  this  was  but  the  prologue. 

"He's  a  fine  lad,  I  must  say,  a  fine  lad  !  His  father  lying 
on  his  death-bed,  and  this  young  man  amuses  himself  by  tying 
a  policeman  on  a  bear's  back !  For  shame,  batyushka,  for 
shame.    You  would  better  have  gone  to  the  war." 

She  turned  away  from  him  and  gave  her  hand  to  the  count, 
who  found  it  difficult  to  keep  from  laughing  outright. 

"  Weil,  then,  to  dinner ;  it  is  ready,  I  believe,"  said  Marya 
Dmitrievna. 

The  count  led  the  way  with  Marya  Dmitrievna  followed  by 
the  countess  escorted  by  the  colonel  of  hussars,  a  man  to  be 
made  much  of,  since  Nikolai  was  to  join  his  regiment.  Anna 
Mikhailovna  went  with  Shinshin.  Berg  gave  his  arm  to  Viera. 
The  smiling  Julie  Karagina  went  with  Nikolai  to  the  table. 
Behind  them  followed  the  rest  in  couples,  making  a  long  line 
through  the  hall,  and  the  rear  was  brought  up  by  the  tutors 
and  governesses,  each  leading  one  of  the  children. 

The  waiters  bustled  about,  chairs  were  noisily  pushed  back, 
an  orchestra  was  playing  in  the  gallery,  and  the  guests  took 
their  places.  The  sounds-  of  the  count's  private  band  were 
soon  drowned  in  the  clatter  of  knives  and  forks,  the  voices  of 
the  guests,  and  the  hurrying  steps  of  the  waiters. 

At  the  head  of  the  table  sat  the  countess,  Marya  Dmitrievna 
at  her  right,  Anna  Mikhailovna  at  her  left ;  then  the  other 
ladies.  At  the  other  end  of  the  table  sat*the  count,  with  the 
oolonel  of  hussars  at  his  left,  and  Shinshin  and  the  other  men 
at  his  right 


72  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

At  one  side  of  the  long  table  were  the  young  gentlemen  and 
ladies  :  Viera  next  to  Berg,  Pierre  and  Boris  together,  all  far 
cing  the  children  and  their  guardians  on  the  other  side. 

The  co«nt,  through  the  long  line  of  decanters  and  vases 
with  fruits,  looked  across  to  his  wife  and  her  towering  head- 
dress with  its  blue  ribbons,  and  zealously  helped  his  neighbors 
to  wine,  not  forgetting  himself.  The  countess  also,  not  neglect- 
ing the  duties  of  a  hostess,  cast  significant  glances  at  her  hus- 
band over  the  tops  of  the  pineapples,  and  it  seemed  to  her 
that  his  bald  forehead  and  face  were  all  the  more  conspicu- 
ously rubicund  from  the  contrast  of  his  gray  hair. 

On  the  ladies'  side  there  was  an  unceasing  buzz'  of  conversa- 
tion. On  the  side  of  the  men  the  voices  grew  louder  and 
louder ;  and  loudest  of  all  talked  the  colonel  of  hussars,  who 
ate  and  drank  all  that  he  could,  his  face  growing  more  and 
more  flushed,  so  that  the  count  felt  called  upon  to  hold  him 
up  to  the  other  guests  as  an  example.  Berg,  with  an  affec- 
tionate smile,  was  talking  with  Viera^on  the  theme  of  love 
being  not  an  earthly  but  a  heavenly  feeling.  Boris  was 
enlightening  his  new  friend  Pierre  as  to  the  guests  who  were 
at  the  table,  and  occasionally  exchanged  glances  with  Xatasha, 
whose  seat  was  on  the  opposite  side. 

Pierre  himself  said  little  but  he  ate  much,  while  he  scanned 
the  faces  of  the  guests.  Having  been  offered  two  kinds  of 
soups  he  had  chosen  turtle,  and  from  the  fish-kulebi/aka  to  the 
saute  of  woodcock,  he  did  not  refuse  a  single  dish,  or  any  of 
the  wines  which  the  butler  offered  him ;  thrusting  the  bottle, 
mysteriously  wrapped  in  a  white  napkin,  over  his  neighbor's 
shoulder,  murmuring:  "dry  Madeira,"  or  "Hungarian,"  or 
"Rhine  wine."  He  held  up  the  first  that  he  happened  to  lay 
his  hand  upon  of  the  four  wineglasses,  engraved  with  the 
count's  arms,  that  stood  before  each  guest,  and  drank  rap- 
turously, and  the  face  that  he  turned  upon  the  guests  grew 
constantly  more  and  more  friendly. 

Natasha  sitting  opposite,  gazed  at  Boris,  as  young  girls  of 
thirteen  only  can  on  the  lad  with  whom  they  have  just  ex- 
changed kisses,  and  are  very  much  in  love.  Occasionally  she 
let  her  eyes  rest  on  Pierre,  and  this  glance  of  the  ridiculous 
little  maiden,  so  lively  in  all  her  ways,  almost  made  him  feel 
like  laughing,  he  could  not  tell  why. 

Nikolai  was  seated  at  some  distance  from  Sonya,  and  next 
to  Julie  Karagina,  and  was  again  talking  with  her  with  the 
same  involuntary  smile.  Sonya  also  had  a  smile  on  her  lips, 
but  it  was  not  natural^  and  she  was  evidently  tortured  by  jeal- 


WAR  AND  PEACE,  73 

ousy ;  first  she  turned  pale,  then  red,  and  was  trying  with  all 
her  might  to  imagine  what  Nikolai  and  Julie  were  talking 
about. 

The  governess  was  looking  around  nervously,  as  though 
ready  to  make  resistance  should  any  one  presume  to  injure 
her  young  charges.  The  German  tutor  was  endeavoring  to  tix 
in  his  memory  all  the  different  courses,  desserts,  and  wines, 
80  as  to  give  a  full  description  of  it  when  he  wrote  home  to 
Germany;  he  felt  sorely  grieved  because  the  butler  who  had 
the  bottle  wrapped  in  the  napkin  passed  him  by.  He  frowned, 
and  tried  to  make  it  appear  that  he  had  no  wish  to  taste  that 
wine,  and  was  only  affronted  because  no  one  was  willing  to 
see  that  he  needed  the  wine  not  for  allaying  his  thirst,  or 
from  greediness,  but  from  motives  of  mere  curiosity. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

At  the  men's  end  of  the  table,  the  conversation  was  growing 
more  and  more  animated.  The  colonel  was  telling  that  the 
manifesto  in  regard  to  the  declaration  of  war  had  already 
appeared  in  Petersburg  and  that  he  had  seen  a  copy  of  it 
which  had  been  brought  that  day  by  a  courier  to  the  com- 
mander-in-chief. 

"  Why  the  deuce  should  it  behoove  us  to  fight  with  Bona- 
parte,*' exclaimed  Shinshin;  "he  has  already  made  Austria 
talk  very  mild.     I  fear  that  now  it  will  be  our  turn."  ♦ 

The  colonel  was  a  stout,  tall  German  of  a  sanguine  temper- 
ament, but  a  thorough  soldier  and  a  patriot,  nevertheless.  He 
felt  affronted  at  what  Shinshin  said. 

"But  why,  my  dear  sir,"  said  he,  mispronouncing  every  word, 
"inasmuch  as  de  emperor  knows  dat?  In  his  mahnifest,  he 
says  dat  he  cahn  not  looke  with  indeeference  on  de  danjers 
treetening  Russia,  and  dat  de  safety  of  de  empire  and  de 
sanctity  of  de  allies  "  —  and  he  put  a  special  emphasis  on  the 
word  cdliesy  as  though  it  contained  the  whole  essence  of  the 
matter. 

And  then  with  his  infallible  memory,  trained  by  official 
life,  he  began  to  repeat  the  introductory  clause  of  the  mani- 
festo: "*  And  as  the  emperor's  wish  and  constant  and  unalter- 
able aim  is  to  establish  peace  in  Europe  on  lasting  foundations, 
he  has  determined  to  move  a  portion  of  his  army  across  the 

*  "//  a  d^ja  rabattu  le  coquet  a  VAutriche,    Jt  crains  q ue  cetU  fois  ce  ne  soil 
wtn  tour,** 


74  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

frontier,  and  to  make  every  effort  for  the  attainment  of  this 
design.'  And  dat  is  de  reason,  my  dear  sir,"  said  he,  in  con- 
clusion, edifyingly  draining  his  glass  of  wine  and  glancing  at 
the  count  for  encouragement. 

"  Do  you  know  the  proverb,  *  Yerema,  Yerema,  you'd  better 
stay  at  home  and  twirl  the  spindle  ?  "  said  Shinshin,  frowning 
and  smiling.  "  That  fits  us  to  a  T.  Even  Suvarof  was  cut 
all  to  pieces,  and  where  shall  we  find  a  Suvarof  nowadays  ? 
^Vhat  do  you  think  about  it  ?  "  asked  he,  incessantly  changing 
from  Kussian  to  French. 

"  Ve  must  fight  to  the  last  dr-r-rop  of  our  blood,"  said  the 
colonel,  thumping  on  the  table;  "ve  must  be  villing  to  per- 
r-r-rish  for  our  emperor,  and  then  all  vill  be  veil.  And  argue 
as  leedle  as  po-oo-sible,  as  leedle  as  po-<^)Ssible,"  he  repeated, 
giving  a  strong  stress  to  the  word  i)OSsible,  and  looking  again 
at  the  count.  "  Dat's  de  vay  ve  old  hussars  look  at  it.  And 
how  do  you  look  at  it,  young  mahn  and  youjig  hussar  ?  "  he 
added,  turning  to  Nikolai,  who,  quite  neglecting  his  fair  com- 
panion, now  that  the  talk  turned  on  the  war,  wiis  looking  with 
all  his  eyes  at  the  colonel  and  drinking  in  all  that  he  had  to 
say. 

"I  agree  with  you  entirely,"  returned  Nikolai,  in  a  glow, 
and  turning  his  plate  round  and  rearranging  his  wineglasses 
with  a  resolute  and  desperate  face,  as  though  at  that  very 
instant  lie  were  going  to  be  called  upon  to  face  a  great  peril. 
"I  am  convinced  that  we  Kussians  must  eitlier  conquer  or 
die,"  said  he,  and  then  instantly  felt  just  as  the  rest  did,  after 
the  words  were  out  of  his  mouth,  tliat  he  had  spoken  more 
enthusiastically  and  bombastically  than  the  occasion  war- 
ranted, and  had,  therefore,  been  guilty  of  a  solecism. 

"  What  you  just  said  was  splendid,"  said  Julie,  with  a  sigh. 
Sonya  was  all  of  a  tremble,  and  blushed  to  her  ears  and  even 
to  her  shoulders,  while  Nikolai  was  speaking.  Pierre  listened 
to  the  colonel's  speeches  and  nodded  his  head  in  approval. 

"  Here,  that's  splendid,"  said  he. 

"You're  a  real  hussar,  young  mahn!"  cried  the  colonel, 
again  thumping  on  the  table. 

"What  are  you  making  such  a  noise  about  tht^re,"  suddenly 
spoke  up  Marya  Dmitrievna,  her  deep  voice  ringing  across  the 
table.  "  Why  are  you  pounding  on  the  table  ?  "  she  demanded 
of  the  hussar.  "What  are  you  getting  so  heated  about,  pray ? 
One  would  really  think  that  the  French  were  right  here  before 
you!" 

"  I  am  delling  the  driith,"  said  the  hussar,  smiling. 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  75 

"  Always  talking  about  the  war,"  cried  the  count,  across  the 
table.  *'  You  see  I  have  a  son  who  is  going.  Marya  Dmitri- 
evna,  my  son  is  going." 

"Well,  I  have  four  sons  in  the  army,  but  I  don't  mourn 
over  it.  God's  will  rules  all.  You  may  die  at  home  lying  on 
your  oven,  or  God  may  bring  you  safe  out  of  battle,"  rang 
Marya  Dmitrievna's  loud  voice  without  any  effort,  from  the 
farther  end  of  the  table. 

«  That  is  so." 

And  the  conversation  again  was  confined  among  the  ladies 
at  their  end  of  the  table  and  among  the  men  at  theirs. 

"You  won't  dare  to  ask  it,"  said  Natasha's  little  brother  to 
her.     "  I  tell  you,  you  won't  dare  to  ! " 

"  Yes,  I  will,  too,"  replied  Natasha. 

Her  face  suddenly  kindled  and  expressed  a  desperate  and 
mischievous  resolution.  She  started  u[)  with  a  glance,  caus- 
ing Pierre  who  was  sitting  opposite  to  her  to  listen,  and  ad- 
dressed her  mother. 

"Mamma,"  rang  her  childish  chest  voice  across  the  t  ble. 

"  What  is  it  y©u  wish  ?  "  asked  the  countess,  alarmed  ;  but 
seeing  by  her  daughter's  face  that  it  was  some  prank,  she 
shook  her  finger  sternly  at  her  and  shook  her  head  warningly. 

There  was  a  lull  in  the  conversation. 

"  Mamma !  what  sort  of  pastry  is  coming  ?  "  cried  the  little 
voice  even  more  clearly  and  without  any  hesitation. 

The  countess  tried  to  look  severe  but  could  not.  Marya 
Dmitrievna  shook  her  stout  finger  at  the  girl.  "  Cossack  !  '^ 
said  she.  The  majority  of  the  guests  looked  at  the  old  ladies 
and  did  not  know  what  to  make  of  this  freak. 

"  You  wiU  see  what  I  shall  do  to  you,"  said  the  countess. 

"Mamma!  tell  me  what  pastry  are  we  going  to  have?" 
cried  Natasha  again,  all  in  a  giggle,  and  assured  in  her  own 
merry  little  heart  that  her  prank  would  not  be  taken  amiss. 
Sonya  and  the  stout  little  Petya  were  struggling  with  suj)- 
pressed  laughter. 

'•'  There,  I  did  ask,"  whispered  Natasha  to  her  little  brother 
and  to  Pierre,  on  whom  she  again  fastened  her  eyes. 

"Ices;  but  you  are  not  to  have  any,"  said  Marya  Dmi- 
trievna. 

Natasha  saw  that  there  was  nothing  to  be  afraid  of,  and 
therefore  she  had  no  fear  of  Marya  Dmitrievna. 

"  Marya  Dmitrievna  I  what  kind  of  ices  ?  I  don't  like  ice 
eiemm." 

"Carrot" 


76  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

"  No !  what  kind  ?  Marya  Dmitrievna,  tell  me  wliat  kind," 
she  almost  screamed. 

Marya  Dmitrievna  and  the  countess  laughed,  and  the  rest 
of  the  guests  did  the  same.  All  laughed,  not  so  much  at 
Marya  Dmitrieviia's  repartee,  as  at  the  incomprehensible 
bravery  and  cleverness  of  the  little  girl  who  could  and  dared 
treat  Marya  Dmitrievna  so. 

Natasha  was  made  to  hold  her  tongue  only  when  she  was 
told  that  they  were  to  have  pineapple  sherbet.  Before  the 
ices  were  brought,  champagne  was  handed  around.  Again  the 
orchestra  played,  the  count  exchanged  kisses  with  his  "  little 
countess,"  and  the  guests  standing,  drank  a  health  to  the 
hostess,  clinking  their  glasses  across  the  table  with  the  count, 
with  the  children,  and  with  each  other.  Again  the  waiters 
bustled  about,  there  was  the  noise  of  moving  chairs,  and  in 
the  same  order  but  with  more  flushed  faces,  the  guests  returned 
to  the  drawing-room  and  to  the  count's  cabinet. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

The  card  tables  were  brought  out,  partners  were  selected, 
and  the  count's  guests  scattered  through  the  two  drawing- 
rooms,  the  divan-roora,  and  the  library. 

The  count,  having  arranged  his  cards  in  a  fan  shape,  found 
it  difficult  to  keep  from  indulging  in  his  usual  after-dinner 
nap,  and  laughed  heartily  at  everything.  The  young  people 
at  the  countess's  instigation  gathered  around  the  clavichord 
and  the  harp.  Julie,  first,  by  general  request,  played  a  piece 
with  variations  on  the  harp  and  then  she  joined  with  the  rest 
of  the  girls  in  urging  Natasha  and  Nikolai,  whose  musical 
talent  was  known  to  all,  to  sing  something.  Natasha  was 
evidentlv  very  much  flattered  by  this  request  and  at  the  same 
time  it  filled  her  with  trepidation. 

"  What  shall  we  sing  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  '  The  Fountain,' "  suggested  Nikolai. 

"  Well,  give  me  the  music,  quick ;  Boris,  come  here,"  said 
Natasha.  "  But  where  is  Sonya  ?  "  She  looked  around  and 
seeing  that  her  cousin  was  nowhere  in  the  room,  she  started 
to  find  her. 

She  ran  into  Sonya's  room  and  not  finding  her  there,  has- 
tened to  the  nursery,  but  she  was  not  there.  Natasha  then 
came  to  the  conclusion  that  Soyna  might  be  'u\  the  corridor 
on  the  great  chest.     The  great  chest  in  the  corridor  was  the 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  77 

place  of  mourning  for  all  the  young  women  of  the  house  of 
Rostof.  There  in  fact  Sonya  was  found  in  her  airy  pink  frock, 
all  crumpled,  lying  flat  on  her  face  on  a  dirty  striped  pillow 
that  belonged  to  the  nurse,  and,  hiding  her  face  in  her  hands, 
was  crying  as  though  her  heart  would  break,  while  her  poor, 
bare  shoulders  shook  under  her  sobs. 

Natasha's  face  which  had  been  so  radiant  all  through  her 
name  day,  suddenly  changed ;  her  eyes  grew  fixed,  then  her 
throat  contracted,  and  the  corners  of  her  mouth  drew  down. 

"Sonya!  what  is  the  matter?  Tell  me  what  is  it;  what  is 
the  matter  with  you?  Oo-oo-oo!"  And  Natasha,  opening 
her  large  mouth  and  becoming  perfectly  ugly,  cried  like  a 
child,  without  knowing  any  reason  for  it  except  that  Sonya 
was  crying.  Sonya  tried  to  lift  up  her  head,  tried  to  answer, 
bnt  found  it  impossible  and  hid  her  face  again.  Natasha  sat 
down  on  the  blue  cushion  and  threw  her  arms  around  her  dear 
cousin.  At  length  Sonya  put  forth  an  effort,  sat  up,  and 
began  to  wipe  away  her  tears,  saying,  — 

"  Xikolenka  is  going  away  in  a  week  —  his  —  papers  —  have 
come  —  he  himself  told  me  so.  But  I  should  not  have  wej)t. 
(She  held  out  a  piece  of  paper  which  she  had  been  reiuling ;  it 
contained  the  verses  which  Nikolai  had  written  for  her.)  —  I 
should  not  have  wept  for  that  —  but  you  cannot  understand 
— No  one  can  understand  —  what  a  noble  heart  he  has." 

And  once  more  her  tears  began  to  flow  at  the  thought  of 
what  a  noble  heart  he  had. 

"You  are  happy  —  I  do  not  envy  you  —  I  love  you  and 
Boris  too,"  said  she,  composing  herself  by  an  effort.  "  He  is 
good;  for  you  there  are  no  obstacles.  But  Nikolai  is  my 
cousin  —  we  should  have  to  —  the  archbishop  himself  —  else 
it  would  be  impossible.  And  then  if  mamenka  TSqnya  always 
regarded  the  countess  as  her  mother  and  called  ner  so)  —  she 
will  say  that  I  am  spoiling  Nikolai's  career,  that  I  am  heart- 
less and  ungrateful,  and  she  would  be  right,  too ;  but  God  is 
my  witness  (here  she  crossed  herself),  I  love  her  so  and  all  of 
you,  except  only  Viera — and  why  is  it?  What  have  I  done 
to  her?  —  I  am  so  grateful  to  you,  that  L  would  gla^lly  make 
any  sacrifice  for  you,  —  but  it's  ho  use  "  —  Sonya  could  say  no 
more,  and  again  she  buried  her  face  in  the  cushion  and  her 
hands.  Natasha  tried  to  calm  her,  but  it  could  be  seen  by  her 
face  that  she  understood  all  the  dej)th  of  Sonya's  woe. 

"Sonya!"  she  exclaimed,  suddenly,  as  though  surmising 
the  actual  reason  of  her  cousin's  grief,  "truly,  didn't  Viera 
say  something  to  you  after  dinner  ?     Tell  me  I " 


78  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

"Nikolai  wrote  these  verses  himself,  and  I  copied  off  some 
other  ones ;  and  she  found  them  on  my  table  and  said  that 
she  was  going  to  show  them  to  mamenka,  and  she  said  too 
that  I  was  ungrateful,  that  mamenka  would  never  let  him 
marry  me,  and  that  he  was  going  to  marry  Julie.  You  saw 
how  he  was  with  her  all  the  time,  Natasha;  why  should  it  be 
so?'' 

And  again  she  began  to  sob,  more  bitterly  than  before. 
Natasha  tried  to  lift  her  up,  threw  her  arms  around  her,  and 
smiling  through  her  tears,  began  to  console  her. 

"  Sonya,  don't  you  believe  her,  dear  heart ;  don't  believe  her. 
Don't  you  remember  we  three  and  Nikolenka  talked  together 
in  the  divan-room,  after  lunch  ?  Why  we  thought  it  all  out, 
how  it  should  be.  I  don't  exactly  remember  how  it  was,  but 
you  know  it  will  be  all  right  and  everything  can  be  arranged. 
There  was  Uncle  Shinshin's  brother  married  his  (nvn  cousin, 
and  we  are  only  second  cousins.  And  Boris  said  that  that 
was  perfectly  possible.  You  know  I  tell  him  everything. 
For  he  is  so  clever  and  so  kind,"  said  Natasha.  "  Now,  Sonya, 
don't  cry  any  more,  dear  dove,  sweetheart,  Sonya,"  and  she 
kissed  her,  and  laughed  merrily  ;  "  Viera  is  spiteful,  I'm  sorry 
for  her !  But  all  will  be  well,  and  she  won't  say  anything  to 
mamenka;  Nikolenka  himself  ^vill  tell  her,  and  then  again, 
he  doesn't  care  anything  about  Julie,"  and  she  kissed  her  on 
her  hair.  Sonya  jumped  up,  and  again  the  kitten  became 
lively,  its  eyes  danced,  and  it  was  ready,  waving  its  tail,  to 
spring  down  on  its  soft  little  paws  and  to  play  with  the  ball 
again,  as  was  perfectly  natural  for  it  to  do. 

"  Do  you  think  so  ?  Truly  ?  Do  you  swear  it  ?  "  said  she 
quickly,  smoothing  out  her  crumpled  dress  and  hair. 

"Truly  !  1  swear  it ! "  replied  Natasha,  tucking  an  unruly 
tuft  of  curly  hair  back  under  her  cousin's  braid.  "  Well,  now, 
let  us  go  and  sing  'The  Fountain  I ' " 

"  Come  on ! " 

"But  do  you  know,  that  stout  Pierre  who  sat  opposite 
me  is  so  amusing ! "  suddenly  exclaimed  Natasha,  stopping 
short.  "  Oh,  it  is  such  fun  ! "  and  the  girl  danced  along  the 
corridor. 

Sonya,  shaking  off  some  down,  and  hiding  the  verses  in  her 
bosom,  her  face  all  aglow,  followed  Natasha  with  light  merry 
steps  along  the  corridor,  into  the  divan-room.  According  to 
the  request  of  the  guests,  the  young  people  sang  the  quartet, 
entitled  "  The  Fountain,"  which  was  universally  acceptable ; 
then  Nikolai  sang  a  new  song  which  he  had  just  learned,  — 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  79 

* 

**  I%e  night  is  bright,  the  nuxm  is  sinking. 

How  sweet  it  is  to  tell  one's  heart 
'Huxt  same  one  in  the  world  is  thinking, 

•  My  own  true  only  love  thou  art  I ' 
ITuU  she,  her  lavely  hand  is  laving 

Upon  the  golden  harp  to-nignt, 
WhUe  passionate  harmonies  are  swaying 

Her  soul  and  thine  to  new  delight ; 
One  day,  two  days,  then  Paradise!  — 
Alas!  thy  love  on  her  death  bed  lies!  ^ 

He  had  hardly  finished  singing  the  last  word,  when  prepara- 
tions began  to  be  made  for  dancing,  and  the  musicians  made 
their  way  into  the  gallery  with  a  trampling  of  feet,  and 
coaghing. 

Pierre  was  sitting  in  the  drawing-room  with  Shinshin  who, 
knowing  that  he  had  recently  returned  from  abroad,  was  try- 
ing to  induce  a  political  conversation  that  was  exceedingly 
tedious  to  the  yonng  man;  several  others  had  joined  the 
group.  When  the  music  struck  up,  Natasha  went  into  the 
drawing-room,  and  going  straight  up  to  Pierre,  said,  laughing 
and  blushing,  — 

"  Mamma  told  me  to  ask  you  to  join  the  dancers." 

"  I  am  afraid  of  sjwiling  the  figures  "  said  Pierre,  "  but  if 
you  will  act  as  my  teacher,"  and  he  offered  his  big  arm  to  the 
dainty  damsel,  though  he  was  obliged  to  put  it  down  very 
low. 

While  the  couples  were  getting  their  places,  and  the  musi- 
cians were  tuning  up,  Pierre  sat  down  with  his  little  lady. 
Natasha  was  perfectly  delighted;  she  was  going  to  dance 
with  a  big  man,  who  had  just  come  from  abroad.  She  sat  out 
in  front  of  everybody,  and  talked  with  him,  exactly  as  though 
she  were  grown  up.  In  her  hand  she  had  a  fan  which  some 
lady  had  given  her  to  hold ;  and  with  all  the  self-possession 
of  an  accomplished  lady  of  the  world  (God  knows  when  and 
where  she  had  learned  it),  she  talked  with  her  cavalier,  flirt- 
ing her  fan  and  smiling  behind  it. 

"  Well,  well !  do  look  at  her,  do  look  at  her,"  said  the 
countess,  as  she  passed  through  the  ballroom,  and  caught 
sight  of  Natasha.     The  girl  reddened  and  laughed. 

"  Now  what  is  it,  mamma  ?  what  would  you  like  ?  What 
is  there  extraordinary  about  me  ?  " 

In  the  midst  of  the  third  "  ^cossaise,^'  the  chairs  in  the 
drawing-room,  where  the  count  and  Marya  Dmitrievna  were 


80  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

playing  cards,  were  moved  back,  and  a  large  niimber  of  the 
distinguished  guests  and  the  older  people,  stretching  their 
cramped  limbs  after  long  sitting,  and  putting  their  port- 
monaies  and  wallets  into  their  pockets,  came  into  the  ball- 
room. 

First  of  all  came  the  count  and  Marya  Dmitrievna,  both 
with  radiant  faces.  The  count  with  farcical  politeness,  as 
though  in  ballet  fashion,  offered  the  lady  his  bended  arm. 
Then  he  straightened  himself,  and  his  face  lighted  with  a 
peculiarly  shrewd  and  youthful  smile,  and  as  soon  as  the  last 
figure  of  the  "  J^cossaise  "  was  danced  through,  he  clapped  his 
hands  at  the  musicians  and  called  out  to  the  first  violin, — 

"  Semyon !    Do  you  know  'Daniel  Cooper'  ?  " 

This  was  the  count's  favorite  dance,  which  he  had  danced 
when  he  was  a  young  man  (more  particularly  it  was  one  of 
the  figures  of  the  Anglaise). 

"  Look  at  papa ! "  cried  Natasha,  loud  enough  to  be  heard 
all  over  the  ballroom.  (She  forgot  entirely  that  she  was 
dancing  with  a  grown-up  man!)  She  bent  her  curly  head 
over  her  knees,  and  let  her  merry  laugh  ring  out  unchecked. 
Indeed  all  who  were  in  the  hall  gazed  with  a  smile  of  pleas- 
ure at  the  jolly  little  man  standing  with  the  dignified  Marya 
Dmitrievna,  who  was  considerably  taller  than  her  partner, 
holding  his  arms  in  a  bow,  straightening  his  shoulders,  and 
turning  out  his  toes,  slightly  beating  time  with  his  foot, 
while  a  beaming  smile  spread  more  and  more  over  his  round 
face,  and  gave  the  spectators  an  inkling  of  what  was  to  follow. 
As  soon  as  the  merry,  fascinating  sounds  of  "  Daniel  Cooper  " 
were  heard,  reminding  one  of  the  national  dance,  the  trepakd, 
all  the  doors  to  the  ballroom  were  suddenly  tilled ;  on  one 
side  by  the  serving  men  belonging  to  the  household,  on  the 
other  with  the  women,  all  with  smiling  faces  coming  to  look 
at  their  merry-hearted  barin. 

"  Oh !  our  little  father  1  an  eagle  ! "  exclaimed  an  old  nurse, 
in  a  loud  staccato,  in  one  of  the  doors. 

The  count  danced  well,  and  he  knew  it,  but  his  partner  had 
absolutely  no  wish  or  ability  to  dance  well.  Her  portentous 
form  was  erect,  and  her  big  hands  hung  down  by  her  side  ;  she 
had  handed  her  reticule  to  the  countess ;  only  her  stern  but 
liandsome  face  danced ! 

What  was  expressed  in  the  whole  rotund  person  of  the  count, 
was  expressed  in  Marya  Dmitrievna  merely  in  her  ever  more 
and  more  radiantly  smiling  face  and  loftier  lifted  nose ! 

But  while  the  count,  growing  ever  more  and  more  lively, 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  81 

captivated  the  spectators  by  the  unexpectedness  of  his  grace- 
ful capers  and  the  light  gambols  of  his  lissome  legs,  Marya 
Dmitrievna,  by  the  slightest  animation  'on  her  part,  by  the 
inotiou  of  her  shoulders  or  the  bending  of  her  arms  in  turning 
about  or  beating  time,  produced  the  greatest  impression  ;  for 
the  Tery  reason  that  every  one  always  felt  a  certain  awe  before 
her  dignity  of  bearing  and  habitual  severity. 

The  dance  grew  livelier  and  livelier.  The  other  dancers 
could  not  for  an  instant  attract  attention  to  themselves  and 
did  not  even  try.  All  eyes  were  fastened  on  the  count  and 
Marya  Dmitrievna.  Natasha  kept  pulling  at  the  sleeves  and 
dresses  of  all  who  were  near  her  to  make  them  look  at  her 
papenka,  but  even  without  this  reminder  they  would  have 
found  it  hard  to  take  their  eyes  off  the  two  dancers. 

The  count,  in  the  intervals  of  the  dance,  made  desperate 
efforts  to  get  breath,  waved  his  hands,  and  cried  to  the  musi- 
cians to  play  faster.  Quicker,  quicker  and  ever  quicker,  lighter, 
lighter  and  ever  more  lightly  gambolled  the  count,  now  on  his 
toes,  now  on  his  heels,  pirouetting  around  Marya  Dmitrievna, 
and,  at  last,  having  conducted  the  lady  to  her  plac^,  he  made 
one  last  "^a«,"  lifting  his  fat  leg  up  from  behind  in  a  magnifi- 
cent scrape,  and  bowing  his  perspiring  head  low,  at  the  same 
time  with  a  smiling  face  sweeping  his  arm  round  amid  rap- 
turous applause  and  laughter,  especially  on  the  part  of  Natasha. 

Both  of  the  dancers  paused,  breathing  heavily,  and  wiping 
their  heated  faces  with  cambric  handkerchiefs. 

"  That's  the  way  we  used  to  dance  in  our  time,  ma  chere,^^ 
said  the  count. 

"Good  for  *  Daniel  Cooper  I ' "  exclaimed  Marya  Dmitrievna, 
drawing  a  long  breath  and  tucking  back  her  sleeves. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

At  the  very  time  when  in  the  Rostof  s  ballroom  they  were 
dancing  the  sixth  ^^Anglaise,^  and  the  musicians  from  weariness 
were  beginning  to  play  out  of  tune,  and  the  tired  servants  and 
cooks  were  preparing^ for  the  supper.  Count  Bezukhoi  received 
his  sixth  stroke  of  apoplexy.  The  doctors  declared  that  there 
was  not  the  slightest  hope  of  his  rallying  from  it.  The  form  of 
confession  and  communion  was  administered  to  the  dying  man 
and  preparations  were  making  for  extreme  unction,  while  the 
mansion  was  filled  with  the  bustle  and  expectation  usual  in 
such  circumstances. 

VOL.  1.  — 6. 


82  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

Outside  the  house,  around  the  doors,  hidden  by  the  throngs 
of  carriages,  gathered  the  undertakers,  hoping  to  reap  a  rich 
harvest  from  the  count's  obsequies. 

The  military  governor  of  Moscow,  who  had  been  assiduous 
in  sending  his  adjutant  to  inquire  for  the  count,  this  evening 
came  himself  to  bid  farewell  to  the  famous  grandee  of  Cather- 
ine's time. 

The  magnificent  reception-room  was  crowded.  All  stood 
deferentially,  when  the  governor,  who  had  been  closeted  for 
half  an  hour  with  the  sick  man,  came  out,  slightly  bowing  in 
reply  to  the  salutations,  and  endeavoring  to  pass  as  rapidly  as 
possible  by  the  doctors,  priests,  and  relatives  who  fixed  their 
eyes  upon  him.  Prince  Vasili,  grown  a  trifle  thinner  and 
paler  under  the  strain,  accompanied  the  military  governor,  and 
was  repeating  something  in  an  undertone. 

Having  seen  the  distinguished  caller  to  the  door.  Prince  Va- 
sili sat  down  alone  in  the  hall,  threw  one  leg  over  the  other, 
resting  his  elbow  on  his  knee  and  covering  his  eyes  with  his 
hand.  Having  sat  that  way  for  some  little  time,  he  got  up 
and  with  hasty  irregular  steps,  looking  around  with  startled 
eyes,  he  passed  through  the  long  corridor  that  led  to  the  rear 
portion  of  the  house,  to  the  room  occupied  by  the  oldest  of  the 
three  princesses. 

The  visitors  in  the  dimly  lighted  reception-room  talked 
among  themselves  in  low  whisi>ers  and  relapsed  into  silence, 
looking  with  eyes  full  of  curiosity  or  expectation  when  the 
door  that  led  into  the  death  chamber  opened  to  let  any  one  pass 
in  or  out. 

"  The  limit  of  his  life,"  said  a  little  old  man,  a  priest,  to  a 
lady  sitting  near  him  and  listening  earnestly,  "  the  limit  is 
fixed,  he  will  not  live  beyond  it." 

"  It  seems  to  me  it  is  late  for  extreme  unction,  is  it  not  ?  " 
asked  the  lady,  adding  the  name  of  the  priest.  She  affected 
to  be  unenlightened  upon  this  point. 

"  It  is  a  great  mystery,  gentle  lady,"  replied  the  priest,  pass- 
ing his  hand  over  his  bald  forehead,  on  which  still  lay  a  few 
carefully  brushed  locks  of  grayish  hair. 

**  Who  was  that  ?  The  Governor  of  Moscow  ?  "  some  one 
asked  at  the  other  end  of  the  room.  "  What  a  young-looking 
man  ! " 

"  But  he's  seventy  years  old !  They  say,  don't  they,  that 
the  count  doesn't  recognize  any  one  any  longer  ?  Are  they 
going  to  give  him  extreme  unction  ?  " 

"All  I  know  is,  he's  had  seven  strokes." 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  83 

The  second  niece  just  came  out  of  the  sick  chamber  with 
weeping  eyes  and  sat  down  by  Doctor  Lorrain,  who  had  as- 
sumed a  graceful  position  under  the  portrait  of  the  Empress 
Catherine,  and  sat  with  his  elbow  resting  on  the  table. 

*•  Beautiful  weather,  princess,  and  this  being  in  Moscow  is 
like  being  in  the  country,"  said  the  doctor,  in  French. 

"  It  is,  indeed,"  said  the  princess,  with  a  sigh.  "  Can  he 
have  a  drink  ?  " 

Lorrain  pondered  a  moment. 

"  Has  he  taken  his  medicine  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  Take  a  glass  of  boiled  water,  and  add  a  pinch  (he  indicated 
with  hia  slender  fingers  what  he  meant  by  a  pincn)  of  cream 
of  tartar." 

"  1  neffer  heard  of  a  gase  vere  a  mahn  surfifed  more  dan  a 
dird  stroke,"  said  a  German  doctor  to  an  adjutant. 

"  What  a  constitution  the  man  must  have  had ! "  said  the 
adjutant.  "  And  who  will  get  all  his  wealth  ?  "  he  added,  in  a 
whisper. 

"8ome  vun  vill  be  fount  to  tek  it,"  replied  the  German, 
with  a  smile. 

Again  they  all  looked  at  the  door;  it  opened  to  let  the 
young  princess  pass  with  the  drink  whicli  Lorrain  had  sug- 
j,f«ted  fur  the  sick  man.  The  German  doctor  went  over  to 
Lorrain;  "Do  you  think  he  will  last  till  to-morrow  morn- 
ing?'' he  asked,  in  atrocious  French. 

Lorrain  thrust  out  his  lips  and  made  a  motion  of  severe 
negation  with  his  fingers,  in  front  of  his  nose. 

"To-night,  at  latest,"  said  he  in  a  low  voice,  with  a  slight 
smile  of  self-satisfaction  at  being  able  to  understand  and  ex- 
press the  state  of  his  patient ;  then  he  went  out. 

Meantime,  Prince  Vasili  had  opened  the  door  into  the  prin- 
cess's apartment. 

It  was  almost  dark  in  the  room;  two  little  lamps  were 
burning  l)efore  the  holy  pictures,  and  there  was  a  pleasant 
f>dor  of  incense  and  flowers.  The  whole  room  was  furnished 
with  small  articles  of  furniture,  ohiffoniores,  cabinets  and  lit- 
tle tables.  Behind  a  screen  could  be  sei»n  the  white  curtain 
of  a  high  post  bedstead.  A  little  dog  came  running  out,  and 
terking. 

"  Ah,  is  it  you,  mon  cmtsin  ?  " 

She  got  up  and  smoothed  her  hair  which,  as  always,  was 
80  extraordinarily  smooth  that  one  would  have  thought  it 


84  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

made  of  one  piece  with  her  head  and  then  covered  with 
varnish. 

"  What  is  it  ?  What  has  happened  ? "  she  asked.  "  You 
startled  me  so ! " 

"  Nothing !  There  is  no  change,  I  only  came  to  have  a  talk 
with  you,  Katish  —  about  business,"  said  the  prince,  wearily 
sitting  down  in  the  chair  from  which  she  had  just  risen. 
"How  warm  you  are  here,"  he  exclaimed.  "However,  sit 
down  there ;  let  us  talk." 

"  I  thought  something  must  have  happened,"  said  the  prin- 
cess, and  she  took  a  seat  in  front  of  him,  with  her  face  hard 
and  stony  as  usual  and  prepared  to  hear  what  he  had  to  say. 
"  I  was  trying  to  get  a  nap,  7?ion  cousin^  and  I  could  not." 

"  Well,  my  dear,"  said  Prince  Viisili,  taking  the  princess's 
hand  and  doubling  it  over  in  a  way  peculiar  to  himself. 

It  was  evident  that  this  "  well,  my  dear,"  referred  to  a 
number  of  things,  which  though  unspoken,  were  understood 
by  both  of  them. 

The  princess,  with  her  long  thin  waist,  so  disproportionate 
to  the  rest  of  her  body,  looked  at  the  prince  full  in  the  face 
from  her  prominent  gray  eyes.  Then  she  shook  her  head, 
and,  with  a  sigh,  glanced  at  the  holy  pictures.  This  action 
miglit  have  been  taken  as  an  expression  of  grief  and  resig- 
nation, or  as  an  expression  of  weariness  and  hope  of  a  speedy 
respite.  Prince  Vasili  explained  this  action  as  an  expression 
of  weariness. 

"That's  the  way  with  me,"  said  he.  "Do  you  suppose  it's 
any  easier  for  me  ?  I  am  as  played  out  as  a  post  horse,  *  bat 
still,  I  must  have  a  talk  with  you  Katish,  and  a  very  serious 
one." 

Prince  Vasili  became  silent,  and  his  cheeks  began  to  twitch 
nervously,  first  on  one  side  then  on  the  other,  giving  his  facse 
an  unpleasjint  look  such  as  it  never  had  when  he  was  in  com- 
pany. His  eyes,  also,  were  different  from  usual;  at  one 
moment  they  gleamed  impudently  malicious ;  at  the  next^  a 
sort  of  fear  lurked  in  them. 

The  princess,  holding  the  little  dog  in  her  dry,  thin  hands 
in  her  lap,  scrutinized  the  prince  sharply,  but  it  was  plain  to 
see  that  she  did  not  intend  to  break  the  silence  by  asking  any 
question,  even  though  she  sat  till  morning. 

**Do  you  not  see,  my  dear  princess  and  cousin,  Katerina 
Semyonovna,"  continued  Prince  Vasili,  evidently  bringing 
himself,  not  without  an  inward  struggle,  to  attack  the  sub- 

*  *'  Je  suis  ^rtint^  comme  vn  chevai  de  po$t€" 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  86 

ject;  "at  such  moments  as  this,  we  must  think  about  all 
contingencies.  We  must  think  about  the  future,  about  your- 
selves. —  I  love  all  of  you  as  though  you  were  my  own  chil- 
dren ;  you  know  that." 

The  princess  gazed  at  him  immovably,  betraying  no  sign  of 
her  feelings. 

"  In  a  word,  it  is  necessary,  also,  to  think  of  my  family," 
continued  Prince  Vasili,  testily  giving  the  stand  a  push.  "  You 
know,  Katish,  that  you  three  Mamontof  sisters  and  my  wife 
are  the  count's  only  direct  heirs.  I  know,  I  know  how  hard 
it  is  for  you  to  speak  and  think  about  such  things.  And  it  is 
no  easier  for  me ;  but,  my  dear,  I  am  sixty  yeai'S  old,  I  must 
be  reaily  for  anything.  Do  you  know  that  I  have  had  to  send 
for  Pierre  ?  The  count  pointed  directly  at  his  portrait  signify- 
ing that  he  wanted  to  see  him." 

Prince  Vasili  looked  questioningly  at  the  princess^ but  he 
could  not  make  out  whether  she  comprehended  what  he  had 
said  to  her  or  was  simply  looking  at  him. 

"  I  do  not  cease  to  pray  God  for  him,  mon  cousi?i"  she  re- 
plied, "that  He  will  pardon  him  and  grant  his  noble  soul  a 
peaceful  passage  from  this  "  — 

"Yes,  of  course,"  hastily  interposed  Prince  Vasili,  rubbing 
his  bald  forehead  and  again  testily  drawing  toward  him  the 
table  that  he  had  just  pushed  away,  "but  —  but  —  to  make  a 
long  story  short,  this  is  what  I  mean :  you  yourstdf  know 
that  last  winter  the  count  wrote  a  will  by  which  all  his  prop- 
erty was  left  to  Pierre,  and  all  the  rest  of  us  were  left  out  in 
the  cold." 

"But  think  how  many  wills  he  has  made!"  replied  the 
princess,  calmly.  "Besides,  he  can't  leave  —  make  Pierre 
his  heir.     Pierre  is  illegitimate." 

^^Ma  ehere,'^  said  Prince  Vasili,  suddenly  clutching  the 
table  in  his  excitement,  and  speaking  more  rapidly :  "  But 
supposing  a  letter  has  been  written  to  the  emperor,  in  which 
the  count  begs  to  have  Pierre  legitimatized  ?  Don't  you  under- 
stand that  in  view  of  the  count's  services  his  petition  would 
be  granted  ?  " 

The  princess  smiled  that  smile  of  superiority  peculiar  to 
people  who  think  they  know  more  about  any  matter  than 
those  with  whom  they  are  talking. 

**  I  will  tell  you,  moreover,"  pursued  Prince  Vasili,  seizing 
W  by  the  hand,  "  the  letter  has  been  written,  but  it  has  not 
Wn  sent  yet,  but  the  emperor  knows  about  it.  The  question 
is  merely  this  ;  has  it  been  destroyed  or  not.     If  not  then,  as 


86  ^V^J^  AND  PEACE. 

soon  as  all  is  over  "  —  Prince  Vasili  sighed,  giving  to  under- 
stand what  he  meant  to  convey  by  the  words  " all  is  over"  — 
"  then  the  count's  papers  will  be  opened,  the  will  and  the  letter 
will  be  handed  to  the  emperor,  and  the  petition  will  be  un- 
doubtedly granted.  Pierre,  as  the  legitimate  son,  will  inherit 
all ! " 

"  But  our  share  ? "  demanded  the  princess,  smiling  ironi- 
cally, as  though  all  things  except  this  were  possible. 

"  But,  my  poor  Katish,  it  is  as  clear  as  day.  Then  he  will 
be  the  only  legal  heir  and  will  have  the  whole,  and  you  will 
simply  get  nothing.  You  ought  to  know,  my  dear,  whether 
the  will  and  the  letter  have  been  written,  or  whether  they 
have  been  destroyed.  And  if  they  have  been  forgotten, 
then  you  ought  to  know  where  they  are  and  to  lind  them,  so 
that "  — 

"  That's  the  last  feather ! "  inter mpted  the  princess,  smil- 
ing sardonically  and  not  varying  the  expression  of  her  eyes. 
"  I  am  a  woman,  and  according  to  your  idea,  all  of  us  women 
are  stupid,  but  I  know  well  enough  that  an  illegitimate  son 
cannot  inherit  —  un  bdtardf"  she  added,  with  the  intention 
of  showing  the  prince,  by  this  French  term,  conclusively  how 
inconsistent  he  was. 

"  Why  can't  you  understand,  Katish !  You  are  so  clever  ! 
Why  can't  you  understand  that  if  the  count  has  written  a  let- 
ter to  the  emperor  begging  him  to  legitimatize  his  son,  of  course 
Pierre  will  not  be  Pierre  any  longer,  but  Count  Bezukhoi,  and 
then  he  will  inherit  the  whole  according  to  the  will  ?  And  if 
the  will  and  the  letter  are  not  destroyed,  then  you  will  get 
nothing  except  the  consolation  of  knowing  that  you  were  duti- 
ful et  tout  ce  qui  s^en  suit!    That  is  one  sure  thing !" 

''  I  know  that  the  will  has  been  made,  but  I  know  also  that 
it  is  not  good  for  anything,  and  it  seems  to  me  that  you  take 
lue  for  a  perfect  fool,  vion  cotisin"  said  the  princess,  with  that 
expression  that  women  assume  when  they  think  they  have 
said  something  sharp  and  insulting. 

"My  dear  Princess  Katerina  Semyonovna,"  impatiently 
reiterated  Prince  Vasili,  "  I  did  not  come  with  the  -intention 
of  having  a  controversy  with  you,  but  to  talk  with  you  about 
your  own  interests  as  with  a  relative,  a  kind,  good,  true  rela- 
tive. I  tell  you  for  the  tenth  time  that  if  this  letter  to  the 
emperor  and  the  will  in  Pierre's  favor  are  among  the  count^s 
papers,  then  you,  my  dear  little  friend,  will  not  inherit  any- 
thing, nor  your  sisters  either.  If  you  don't  believe  me,  then  ;u5k 
somebody  who  does  know.     I  have  just  been  talking  with 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  87 

Dniitri  Onufriyitch  (that  was  the  count's  lawyer),  and  he  says 
the  same  thing.'* 

A  change  evidently  came  over  the  countess's  thoughts ;  her 
thin  lips  grew  white  (her  eyes  remained  the  same)  and  her 
Toice  when  she  spoke  evidently  surprised  even  herself  by  the 
violence  of  its  gusty  outburst. 

"That  would  be  fine,"  said  she.  "I  have  never  desired  any- 
thing, and  I  would  not  now."  She  brushed  the  dog  from  her 
lap  and  straightened  the  folds  of  her  dress.  "  Here  is  grati- 
tude, here's  recognition  for  all  the  sacrifices  that  people  have 
made  for  him ! "  cried  she.  "Excellent !  Very  fine !  I  don't 
need  anything,  prince." 

"  Yes,  but  it  is  not  you  alone ;  you  have  sisters,"  replied 
Prince  Vasili.     The  princess,  however,  did  not  heed  him. 

'•  Yes,  I  have  known  for  a  long  time,  but  1  had  not  realized 
it,  that  I  had  nothing  to  expect  in  this  house  except  baseness, 
deception,  envy,  intrigue ;  except  ingratitude,  the  blackest  in- 
gratitude." • 

"  Do  you  know  or  do  you  not  know  where  that  will  is  ?  " 
asked  Prince  Vasili,  his  cheeks  twitching  even  more  than 
before. 

"Yes,  I  was  stupid;  I  have  always  had  faith  in  jjeople, 
and  loved  them,  and  sacrificed  myself.  But  those  only  are 
successful  who  are  base  and  low.  I  know  through  whose 
intrigues  this  came  about." 

The  princess  wanted  to  get  up,  but  the  prince  detained  her 
by  the  arm.  The  princess's  face  suddenly  took  on  the  expres- 
sion of  one  who  has  become  soured  against  the  whole  human 
race ;  she  looked  angrily  at  her  relative. 

"There  is  still  time  enough,  my^ >'—•**'"  You  must  know,  my 
dear  Katish,  that  all  this  may  ha;l>le.  "J^Avne  hastily,  in  a 
moment  of  pique,  of  illness,  and  then  •  ^otten.  Our  duty, 
my  dear,  is  to  correct  his  mistake,  to  sootlie  his  last  moments, 
80  that  he  cannot  in  decency  commit  this  injustice  ;  we  must 
not  let  him  die  with  the  idea  that  he  was  making  unhappy 
those  who  "  — 

"Those  who  have  sacrificed  everything  for  him,"  inter- 
rupted the  princess,  taking  the  words  out  of  his  mouth. 
Again  she  tried  to  get  up,  but  still  tluj  prince  Avonld  not  allow 
ber.  "And  he  has  never  had  the  sense  to  perceive  it.  No, 
WW  cotisirty^  she  added  with  a  sigh,  "  I  shall  yet  live  to  learn 
that  in  this  world  it  is  idle  to  expect  one's  reward;  that  in  this 
^'orld  there  is  no  such  thing  as  honor  or  justice  ;  in  this  world 
one  must  be  shrewd  and  wicked," 


g8  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

"Well,  voyons^  calm  yourself ;  I  know  your  good  heart" 

"  No ;  I  have  a  heart  full  of  wickedness." 

"I  know  your  heart,"  repeated  the  prince,  "I  prize  your 
friendship,  and  I  could  wish  that  you  hstd  as  high  an  opinion 
of  me.  Now  calm  yourself  and  parlons  raison.  Now  is  the 
golden  time — a  few  hours  at  most,  perhaps  a  few  moments  ; 
now  tell  me  a]l  you  know  about  this  will,  and  above  all  where 
it  is ;  you  must  know.  He  has  probably  forgotten  all  about 
it.  Now  we  must  take  it  and  show  it  to  the  count.  Prob- 
ably he  has  forgotten  all  about  it,  and  would  wish  it  to  be  de- 
stroyed. You  understand  that  my  sole  desire  is  sacredly  to 
carry  out  his  wishes,  and  that  is  why  I  came  here.  I  am  here 
only  to  help  him  and  you." 

"  Now  I  understand  all.  I  know  whose  intrigues  it  was.  I 
know,"  said  the  princess. 

"  That  is  not  to  the  jwint,  my  dear  heart." 

"  It  is  your  protege,  your  dear  Princess  Drubetskaya,  Anna 
Mikhailovna,  whom  I  would  not  take  for  my  chambermaid ; 
that  filthy,  vile  woman  ! " 

"  Let  us  not  lose  time,"  said  the  prince,  in  French. 

"Ah !  don't  speak  to  me.  Last  winter  she  sneaked  in 
here,  and  she  told  the  count  such  vile  things,  such  foul  things 
about  all  of  us,  especially  about  Sophie, — I  cannot  repeat 
them, — so  that  the  count  was  taken  ill,  and  for  two  weeks 
would  not  see  any  of  us.  It  was  at  that  time,  I  know,  that  he 
wrote  that  nasty,  vile  paper,  but  I  supposed  that  it  did  not 
mean  anything." 

"  That  is  just  the  point ;  why  haven't  you  told  me  before  ?  " 
^  "  In  the  mosaic  portfolio  which  he  keeps  under  his  pillow. 
Now  I  know,"  agaig^^v -Tk*^  ^y^  the  princess.  "  Yes,  if  I  have 
any  sins  on  my  s^^  ^^'^reatest  sin  is  my  hatred  of  that 
horrid  woman,"  a\^i#fprcried  the  princess,  her  face  all  con- 
vulsed. "And  why  did  she  sneak  in  here?  But  I  will  tell 
her  my  whole  mind,  that  I  will.     The  time  will  come  ! " 


CHAPTER  XX. 


At  the  time  that  these  various  conversations  were  going  on 
in  the  reception-room  and  in  the  princess's  apartment,  the 
carriage  with  Pierre  (who  had  been  sent  for)  and  with  Anna 
Mikhailovna  (who  found  it  essential  to  accompany  him)  drove 
into  Count  Bezukhoi's  courtyard.    When  the  carriage  wheels 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  89 

rolled  noiselessly  upon  the  straw  scattered  under  the  windows, 
Anna  Mikhailovna  turned  to  her  companion  with  consoling: 
words^but  was  surprised  to  find  him  asleep  in  the  corner  of 
the  carnage.  She  wakened  him,  and,  as  he  followed  her  from 
the  carriage,  it  dawned  u{x>n  him  for  the  first  time  that  a 
meeting  with  his  dying  father  was  before  him. 

He  noticed  that  they  had  drawn  up  not  at  the  state  entrance 
bnt  at  the  rear  door.  Just  as  he  left  the  carriage  two  men  in 
merchant  garb  skulked  down  from  the  doorway  and  hid  in  the 
shadow  of  the  wall.  Stopping  a  moment  to  look  around,  he 
saw  several  other  similar  figures  on  both  sides  in  the  shadow. 
But  neither  xVnna  Mikhailovna  nor  the  hvckev  nor  the  coach- 
man,  though  they  could  not  have  helped  seeing  these  men, 
paid  any  attention  to  them.  "Why  of  course  it  must  be 
all  right,"  said  ©Pierre  to  himself,  and  followed  Anna 
Mikhailovna. 

Anna  Mikhailovna  with  hurried  steps  tripped  up  the  dimly- 
hghted  narrow  stone  stairway,  and  beckoned  to  Pierre,  who 
loitered  behind  her.  He  could  not  seem  to  realize  why  it  was 
necessary  for  him  to  go  to  the  count,  and  still  less  why  they 
had  to  enter  by  the  rear  door,  but  concluding  by  Anna  Mikhai- 
lovna's  assurance  and  haste  th<at  it  was  absolutely  necessary, 
he  decided  to  follow  her. 

Half  way  up  the  stairs  they  almost  ran  into  some  men  with 
buckets,  who  came  clattering  down  and  pressed  up  close  to 
the  wall  to  let  them  pass,  but  showed  not  the  slightest  sur- 
prise to  see  them  there. 

**Is  this  the  way  to  the  princesses'  apartments?"  she  in- 
quired of  one  of  them. 

"Yes,"  replied  the  lackey,  in  a  loud,  insolent  voice,  as 
though  now  anything  were  permissible.  "The  door  at  the  left, 
flwtM^A/fea." 

"Perhaps  the  count  did  not  call  for  me,"  said  Pierre, 
when  they  reached  the  landing.  "  I  would  better  go  to  my 
room." 

Anna  Mikhailovna  waited  till  Pierre  overtook  her,  — 

*' Ah,  i9um  aTTti,"  said  she,  laying  her  hand  on  his  arm,  just 
as  she  had  done  that  morning  to  her  son,  "  believe  that  I 
suffer  as  much  as  you,  but  be  a  man  I " 

*'  Really,  hadn't  I  better  go  ?  "  asked  Pierre,  looking  affec- 
tionately at  Anna  Mikhailovna  through  his  sj)ectacles. 

"Ah,  man  ami,"  gaid  she,  still  in  P'rench,  "forget  th« 
wrongs  that  may  have  l)een  done  you ;  reinfMuber  he  is  your 
father  —  perhaps  even  now  dying,"  she  sighed.     "  I  have  loved 


90  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

you  from  the  very  first,  like  my  own  son.     Trust  in  me,  Pierre. 
I  will  not  forget  your  interests."  * 

Pierre  did  not  in  the  least  comprehend,  but  again  with  even 
more  force  it  came  over  him  that  all  this  must  necessarily  be 
so,  and  he  submissively  followed  Anna  Mikhailovua,  who  had 
already  opened  the  door. 

The  door  led  into  the  entry  of  the  rear  apartments.  In 
one  corner  sat  an  old  man  servant  of  the  princesses,  knitting 
a  stocking.  Pierre  had  never  before  been  in  this  part  of  the 
house,  he  was  not  even  aware  of  the  existence  of  such  rooms. 

Anna  Mikhailovna  hailed  a  maid  whom  she  saw  hurrying 
along  with  a  carafe  on  a  tray,  and  calling  her  by  various 
familiar  terms  of  endearment,  asked  how  the  princesses  were, 
and  at  the  same  time  beckoned  Pierre  to  follow  her  along  the 
stone  corridor.  • 

The  first  door  on  the  left  led  into  the  princesses'  private 
rooms.  The  chambermaid  with  the  carafe,  in  her  haste  (every- 
thing was  done  in  haste  at  this  time  in  this  mansion)  failed  to 
close  the  door,  and  as  Pierre  and  Anna  Mikhailovna  passed 
by,  they  involuntarily  glanced  into  the  room  where  sat  the 
oldest  of  the  nieces  in  close  conference  with  Prince  Vasili. 
Seeing  them  passing.  Prince  Vasili  made  a  hasty  movement 
and  drew  himself  up ;  the  princess  sprang  to  her  feet,  and  in 
her  vexation  slammed  the  door  to  with  all  her  might. 

This  action  was  so  unlike  the  princess's  habitual  serenity, 
the  apprehension  pictured  on  the  prince's  face  was  so  con- 
trary to  his  ordinary  expression  of  self-importance,  that 
Pierre  paused  and  looked  inquiringly  at  his  guide  through 
his  spectacles.  Anna  Mikhailovna  manifested  no  surprise ; 
she  merely  smiled  slightly  and  sighed,  as  though  to  signify 
that  all  this  was  to  be  expected. 

''Soi/ez  hommc,  mon  ami  I  I  will  watch  over  j^our  interests," 
said  she,  in  answer  to  his  glance,  and  tripped  along  the  cor- 
ridor even  more  hastily  than  before. 

Pierre  did  not  comprehend  what  the  trouble  was  and  still 
less  her  words  :  "  watch  over  your  interests,"  t  but  he  came  to 
the  conclusion  that  all  this  must  be  so.  They  went  from  the 
corridor  into  a  dimly  lighted  hall  which  adjoined  the  count's 
reception-room.  It  was  one  of  those  cold  and  magnificent 
apartments  in  the  front  of  the  house  which  Pierre  knew  so 

•  Oiibliez  let  torts  qu*07i  a  pu  avoir  envers  vous;  pensez  gve  c*e$t  votre 
pere^pevt-etrea  Vagonie.  Je  vov8  ai  tout  de  mite  aimi  comme  mon  fits. 
Fiez  vous  a  moi,  Pierre.    Je  iVovblierai  pas  vos  interets" 

1    Veiller  a  vos  interits* 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  91 

well.  Bat  even  in  this  room,  right  in  the  middle  stood  a  for- 
gotten bath  tub,  from  which  the  water  was  leaking  into  the 
carpet.  A  servant,  and  a  clergyman  carrying  a  censer  came 
toward  them  on  their  tiptoes  but  paid  no  attention  to  them. 
Then  they  entered  the  reception-room,  with  its  two  Italian 
windows,  its  door  leading  into  the  "winter  garden,"  and 
adorned  with  a  colossal  bust  and  a  full-length  portrait  of  tlie 
Empress  Catherine. 

The  room  was  filled  with  the  same  people  in  almost  the 
same  attitudes,  sitting  and  whispering  together.  They  all 
stopped  talking  and  stared  at  Anna  Mikliailovna  as  she 
entered  with  her  pale,  tear-stained  face,  followed  by  the 
stout,  burly  Pierre,  submissively  hanging  his  head. 

Anna  Mikhailovna's  face  expressed  the  consciousness  that  a 
decisive  moment  was  at  hand ;  and  with  the  l)earing  of  a 
genuine  Petersburg  woman  of  affairs,  she  marclied  into  the 
room,  not  allowing  Pierre  to  leave  her,  and  showing  even 
more  boldness  than  in  the  morning.  She  knew  that  as  she 
was  bringing  the  person  whom  the  dying  count  desired  to  see, 
her  reception  was  assured.  With  a  (juick  glance  she  surveyed 
all  who  were  in  the  room  and  perceiving  the  count's  priest, 
she  without  exactly  bowing  but  suddenly  diminishing  her 
stature,  sailed  with  a  mincing  gait  up  to  the  confessor  and 
respectfully  received  the  blessing  first  of  one  and  then  of  the 
other  priest. 

"Thank  God !  we  are  in  time,"  said  she  to  the  priest,  "we 
are  his  relatives  and  were  so  much  alarmed  lest  we  should  be 
too  late.  This  young  man  here  is  the  count's  .  son."  She 
added,  in  a  lower  tone,  —  "A  terrible  moment." 

After  speaking  these  words,  she  went  over  to  the  doctor,  — 

"  Cher  doeteur,''  said  she  to  him,  "  Ce  jeune  homme  est  lefils 
dn  comte,      Y-a^t-iZ  de  Vesjmlr  ?  —  Is  there  any  hope  ?  " 

The  doctor,  silently,  with  a  quick  movement  shrugged  his 
shoulders  and  cast  his  eyes  uj)ward.  Anna  Mikhailovna  ex- 
a(;tly  imitating  him,  also  raised  hers,  almost  closing  them,  and 
'Irew  a  deep  sigh ;  then  she  turned  from  the  doctor  to  Pierre. 
Her  manner  was  respectful  and  affectionate,  with  a  shade  of 
sadness. 

"  Have  confidence  in  His  mercy,"  said  she  in  French,  point- 
ing him  to  a  small  sofa  where  he  should  sit  and  wait  for  her 
while  she  noiselessly  directed  her  steps  toward  the  door  which 
was  the  attraction  for  all  eyes,  and  noiselessly  opening  it  dis- 
appeared from  sight. 

Pierre,  making  up  his  mind  in  all  things  to  obey  his  guide, 


92  ^^R  ^y^  PEACE. 

went  to  the  little  sofa  which  she  pointed  oat  to  him.  As  soon 
as  Anna  Mikhailovna  was  out  of  sight,  he  noticed  that  the  eyes 
of  all  who  were  in  the  room  were  fastened  upon  him  with  more 
curiosity  than  sympathy.  He  noticed  that  all  were  whisper- 
ing together,  nodding  toward  him  with  a  sort  of  aversion  and 
even  servility.  He  was  shown  a  degree  of  respect  which  he 
had  never  been  shown  before  :  a  lady  whom  he  did  not  know, 
the  one  who  had  been  talking  with  the  two  priests,  got  up  from 
her  place  and  motioned  to  him  to  sit  down :  the  adjutant 
picked  up  a  glove  which  he  had  dropi^ed  and  gave  it  to  him  ; 
tlie  drK't^irs  preserved  a  res|)ectful  silence  as  he  piissed  by  them 
and  fell  back  to  make  way  for  him. 

At  first,  Pierre  was  inclined  to  sit  down  in  another  place  so 
as  not  to  disturb  tbe  lady,  was  inclined  to  pick  up  his  own 
glove,  and  to  turn  out  for  the  doctors,  though  they  were  not  at 
all  in  his  way ;  but,  on  second  thought,  it  suddenly  occurred 
to  him  that  this  would  not  be  becoming;  he  felt  that  this 
night  he  was  a  person  expected  to  fulfil  some  terrible  and  obli- 
gatory ceremony,  and  therefore  he  was  in  duty  bound  to  accept 
the  services  of  all  these  peoj)le. 

He  silently  received  the  glove  from  the  adjutant,  took  the 
larly's  place,  laying  his  huge  hands  on  his  evenly-planted  knees 
in  the  naive  poise  of  an  Egyptian  statue,  and  saying  to  him- 
self that  all  this  was  just  as  it  was  meant  to  be,  and  that,  lest 
he  should  lose  his  presence  of  mind  and  commit  some  absurd- 
ity, it  behooved  him  this  evening  al>ove  all  to  give  up  all  idea 
of  self- guidance,  but  commit  himself  wholly  to  the  will  of 
those  ^ho  assumed  the  direction  of  him. 

Not  two  minutes  had  passed,  when  Prince  Vasili  in  his  kaf- 
tan, with  three  stars  on  liis  breast,  carrying  his  head  majesti- 
cally, came  into  the  room.  He  seemed  thinner  than  when 
I^ierre  had  last  seen  him ;  his  eyes  opened  larger  than  usual 
when  he  glanced  al)out  the  room  and  caught  sight  of  Pierre. 
He  went  straight  up  to  him,  took  his  hand,  (a  thing  which  he 
had  never  done  before)  and  bent  it  down  as  though  trying  by 
experiment  whether  it  had  any  power  of  resistance.  "  Cour- 
age, courage,  wo/i  ami/  he  has  asked  to  see  you.  That  is* 
good,"  and  he  started  to  go  away.  But  Pierre  felt  that  it  was 
suitable  to  ask,  — 

"  How  is  he,"  he  stammered,  not  knowing  exactly  how  to 
call  the  dying  count ;     he  was  ashamed  to  call  him  father. 

"  He  had  another  stroke  half  an  hour  ago.  Courage,  mon 
atni.'^ 

l^ierre  was  in  such  a  da^ed  condition  of  mind  that  at  the 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  93 

word  coup  he  imagined  that  some  one  had  hit  him.  He  looked 
at  Prince  Vasili  in  perplexity,  and  it  was  only  after  some  time 
that  he  was  able  to  gather  that  ^'  coup  "  meant  an  attack  of 
apoplexy. 

Prince  Vasili,  as  he  went  by,  said  a  few  words  to  Lorraine 
and  went  into  the  bedroom  on  his  tiptoes.  He  was  not  used 
to  walking  on  his  tiptoes  and  his  whole  body  jumjjed  as  he 
walked.  He  was  immediately  followed  by  the  oldest  prin- 
('( ss  ;  then  came  the  confessor  and  priests  ;  some  of  the  house 
servants  also  joined  in  the  procession  and  passed  into  the 
bleeping-room.  There  was  heard  some  stir,  and  finally  Anna 
Mikhailovna,  with  the  same  pale  countenance,  firmly  bent  on 
the  fulfilment  of  her  duties  came  running  out  and  touching 
Pierre  on  the  arm  said  :  "  The  goodness  of  God  is  inexhaust- 
ible ;  the  ceremony  is  about  to  begin.     Come  !  "  * 

Pierre  passed  into  the  room,  treading  on  the  soft  carpet,  and 
noticed  that  the  adjutant  and  the  strange  lady  and  one  of  the 
servants  all  followed  him,  as  though  now  it  were  no  longer 
uecessary  to  ask  permission  to  go  in. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

Pierre  well  knew^  this  great  room,  divided  by  columns  and 
an  arcade,  and  all  hung  with  Persian  tapestries.  The  part  of 
the  chamber  behind  the  columns,  where  on  one  side  stood  a 
high  mahogany  bedstead  with  silken  curtains,  and  on  the  other 
a  monstrous  kiot  or  shrine  with  images  —  was  all  brightly  and 
beautifully  lighted,  just  as  churches  are  usually  lighted  for 
evening  service. 

Under  the  glittering  decorations  of  this  shrine  stood  a  long 
Voltaire  reclining  chair,  and  in  the  chair,  supported  by  snowy 
white,  unruffled  cushions,  apparently  only  just  changed,  lay 
the  majestic  form  of  Pierre's  father,  Count  Bezukhoi,  with  his 
hair  heaped  up  on  his  lofty  forohead  like  a  lion's  mane,  as 
Pierre  remembered  it  so  well,  and  the  same  strong,  deep  wrin- 
kles on  his  handsome,  aristocratic  face,  reddish  yellow  in  color. 
He  was  wrapped  to  the  waist  in  a  l^riglit  green  quilt,  and  lay 
directly  under  the  holy  pictures ;  both  of  his  great  stout 
arms  were  uncovered  and  lay  on  the  quilt.  In  his  right 
hand,  which  lay  palm  down,  a  wax  taper  was  placed  between 

*  "La  honitfdirine  est  in^uisible.     CTest  la  c^r^monie  de  Veztreme  onv.tUm 
qui  va  cQmutenvcr.     Venez  !  " 


94  tVAR  AND  PBACe. 

the  thumb  and  forefinger,  and  an  old  servant  bending  over 
the  chair  held  it  upright. 

Around  the  chair  stood  the  clergy  in  their  magnificent  glit- 
tering robes,  with  their  long  locks  streaming  down  over  their 
shoulders,  with  lighted  tapers  in  their  hands,  performing 
their  functions  with  slow  solemnity. 

A  little  back  of  them  stood  the  two  younger  princesses 
with  handkerchiefs  in  their  hands,  pressed  to  their  eyes,  and 
just  in  front  of  them  was  the  oldest  sister,  Katish,  with  a 
spiteful,  resolute  face,  not  for  a  moment  letting  her  eyes  wan- 
der from  the  ikon,  as  though  she  were  saying  to  all  that  she 
would  not  be  responsible  for  her  actions  if  she  looked  around. 

Anna  Mikhailovna,  with  an  expression  of  sanctified  grief 
and  universal  forgiveness  on  her  face,  stood  near  the  door 
with  the  strange  lady.  Prince  Vasili  on  the  other  side  of 
the  door,  nearer  the  count,  stood  behind  a  carved  chair,  up- 
holstered in  velvet,  which  he  had  turned  back  to  and  was 
leaning  on  it  his  left  hand  with  a  taper,  and  crossing  himself 
with  his  right  hand,  raising  his  eyes  each  time  that  his  fingers 
touched  his  forehead.  His  face  expressed  calm  devoutness 
and  submission  to  the  will  of  God.  "  If  you  cannot  compre- 
hend these  feelings,  so  much  the  worse  for  you,"  his  counte- 
nance seemed  to  say. 

Behind  him  stood  the  adjutant,  the  doctors,  and  the  men 
servants ;  just  as  in  church,  the  men  and  women  took  opposite 
sides.  No  one  spoke ;  all  kept  crossing  themselves ;  the  only- 
sound  was  the  reading  of  the  service,  the  low,  subdued  chant- 
ing of  the  priests'  deep  bass,  and  during  the  intervals  of 
silence,  the  restless  movement  of  feet  and  deep  sighs. 

Anna  Mikhailovna  with  that  significant  expression  of  coun- 
tenance that  showed  she  knew  what  she  was  doing,  crossed 
the  whole  width  of  the  chamber  to  where  Pierre  was  and  gave 
him  a  taper.  He  lighted  it,  and  then,  growing  confused  under 
the  glances  of  those  around  him,  began  to  cross  himself  with 
the  hand  which  held  the  taper. 

The  youngest  of  the  sisters,  the  rosy  and  fun-loving  prin- 
cess Sophie,  the  one  with  the  mole,  was  looking  at  him.  She 
smiled  and  hid  her  face  in  her  handkerchief,  and  did  not 
expose  it  for  some  time;  when  she  caught  sight  of  Pierre 
again,  her  amusement  again  overcame  her.  Then  evidently 
feeling  that  she  had  not  the  self-control  sufficient  to  allow  her 
to  look  at  him  without  smiling,  and  that  she  could  not  keep 
from  looking  at  him,  she  quietly  fled  from  temptation  by 
retreating  behind  a  column. 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  95 

In  the  midst  of  the  service  the  voices  of  the  clergy  sud- 
denly ceased,  the  priests  whispered  something  to  each  other ; 
the  old  \^'aitiug-man  who  held  the  candle  in  the  count's  hand, 
straightened  up  and  went  over  to  the  ladies'  side.  Anna 
Mikhailovna  stepped  forward,  and  bending  over  the  sick  man, 
beckoned  to  Doctor  Lorraine  without  turning  round.  The 
French  doctor  had  been  standing  without  a  lighted  taper, 
leaning  against  one  of  the  pillars,  in  that  reverent  attitude 
by  which  one  who,  though  a  stranger  and  belonging  to  a  differ- 
ent creed,  shows  that  he  appreciates  all  the  solemnity  of  the 
ceremony  and  even  assents  to  it.  With  the  noiseless  steps  of 
a  man  possessed  of  perfect  vigor  he  answered  Anna  Mikhai- 
loTna's  call,  went  over  to  the  sick  man,  lifted  in  his  white, 
slender  iingers  the  hand  that  lay  on  the  green  quilt,  and 
bending  over,  began  to  count  the  pulse  and  grew  grave. 

Something  was  given  to  the  invalid  to  drink,  there  was  a 
slight  stir  about  him ;  then  once  more  they  all  took  their 
places  and  the  service  proceeded. 

At  the  time  of  this  interruption,  Pierre  noticed  that  Prince 
Vasili  left  his  position  behind  the  carved  chair  and  with  an 
expression  of  countenance  that  seemed  to  say  that  he  knew 
what  he  was  doing,  and  that  it  was  so  much  the  worse  for 
others  if  they  did  not  understand  him,  went,  not  to  the  sick 
man  but  past  him,  and  being  joined  by  the  oldest  of  the  prin- 
cesses, retired  with  her  into  the  depths  of  the  alcove,  to  the 
high  bedstead  under  the  silken  hangings.  From  there  both 
the  prince  and  the  princess  disappeared  through  a  rear  door, 
but  before  the  end  of  the  service  both  resumed  their  places, 
one  after  the  other.  Pierre  gave  this  strange  action  no  more 
thought  than  to  anything  else,  having  once  for  all  made  up 
his  mind  that  all  that  took  place  that  evening  was  absolutely 
essential. 

The  sounds  of  the  church  chant  ceased,  and  the  voice  of  the 
priest  was  heard  respectfully  congratulating  the  sick  man  on 
his  having  received  the  mystery.  The  count  lay  as  before, 
motionless,  and  as  though  lifeless.  Around  him  there  was  a 
stir ;  footsteps  and  a  whispering  were  heard :  Anna  Mikhai- 
lovna's  voice  could  be  distinguished  above  the  rest.  Pierre 
listened,  and  heard  her  say,  — 

"He  must  be  carried  instantly  to  bed;  it  will  never  do  in 
the  world  for  him  here  to  "  — 

The  doctors,  princesses  and  servants,  crowded  around  the 
invalid  so  that  Pierre  could  no  longer  see  that  reddish-yellow 
face  with  the  gray  mane  of  hair,  which  ever  since  the  service 


96  1VAR  AND  PEAC£!. 

began  had  constantly  filled  his  vision  to  the  exclusion  of 
everything  else.  He  surmised  by  the  guarded  movements  of 
those  who  crowded  around  the  arm  chair  that  they  were  lift- 
ing and  carrying  the  dying  man. 

"  Hold  by  my  arm !  You'll  drop  him  so,"  said  one  of  the 
servants  in  a  frightened  whisper.  "Take  him  lower  down  !" 
"  One  more,"  said  different  voices,  and  the  labored  breathing, 
and  shuffling  of  feet  growing  more  hurried,  seemed  to  indi- 
cate that  the  load  that  the  men  were  carrying  was  beyond 
their  strength. 

As  the  bearers,  among  their  number  Anna  Mikhailovna, 
came  opposite  the  young  man  he  caught  a  momentary  glimpse 
over  their  heads  and  backs,  of  his  father's  strong,  full  chest 
uncovered,  his  stout  shoulders,  lifted  above  the  people  carry- 
ing him  under  their  arms,  and  his  leonine  head  with  its  curly 
mane.  The  face,  with  its  extraordinary  high  forehead  and 
cheek  bones,  handsome,'  sensitive  mouth,  and  majestic,  cold 
eyes,  was  undisfigured  by  the  nearness  of  death.  It  was  just 
the  same  as  when  Pierre  had  seen  it  three  months  previously 
when  the  count  sent  him  to  Petersburg.  But  the  head  rolled 
helplessly  under  the  uneven  steps  of  the  bearers  and  the  cold, 
indifferent  eyes  gave  no  sign  of  recognition. 

There  followed  a  few  moments  of  bustle  around  the  high 
bedstead;  those  who  had  been  carrying  the  sick  man  with- 
drew. Anna  Mihailovna  touched  Pierre  on  the  arm  and  said, 
"  Venez,'' 

Pierre  went  with  her  to  the  bed  whereon  the  sick  man  had 
been  placed  in  solemn  attitude,  evidently  in  some  manner 
connected  with  the  sacrament  just  accomplished.  He  lay 
with  his  head  propped  high  on  pillows.  His  hands  were 
placed  side  by  side,  palm  downward,  on  the  green  silk  quilt. 
As  Pierre  went  to  him,  the  count  was  looking  straight  at  him, 
but  his  look  had  that  meaning  and  significance  which  it  is 
impossible  for  a  man  to  read.  Either  that  look  had  simply 
nothing  to  say  and  merely  fastened  upon  him  because  those 
eyes  must  needs  look  at  something,  or  they  had  too  much  to 
say. 

Pierre  paused,  not  knowing  what  was  expected  of  him,  and 
i^lauced  inquiringly  at  his  guide.  Anna  Mikhailovna  made 
^  liim  a  hasty  motion  with  her  eyes  toward  the  si(^k  man's 
hand,  and  with  her  lips  signified  that  he  should  kiss  it. 
Pierre  bent  over  carefully  so  as  not  to  disturb  the  quilt,  and 
in  accordance  with  her  advice  touched  his  lips  to  the  broad, 
brawny  hand.     Neither  the  hand  nor  a  muscle  of  the  count's 


War  and  peace.  97 

face  moved.  Pierre  again  looked  questioningly  at  Anna  Mi- 
khailovna  to  find  what  he  should  do  next.  She  signed  to  him 
with  her  eyes,  to  sit  down  in  an  arm-chair  which  stood  near 
the  bed.  Pierre  submissively  sat  down,  his  eyes  mutely  ask- 
ing if  he  were  doing  the  right  thing.  Anna  Mikhailovna 
approvingly  nodded  her  head.  Pierre  again  assumed  the  sym- 
metrically simple  attitude  of  the  Egyptian  statue,  and  evi- 
dently really  suffered  because  his  awkward,  huge  frame  took 
up  so  much  space,  though  he  strove  with  all  his  might  to 
make  it  seem  as  small  as  possible. 

He  looked  at  the  count.  The  count  was  staring  at  the  spot 
where  Pierre  had  just  been  standing.  Anna  Mikhailovna 
showed  by  her  actions  that  she  realized  the  pathetic  impor- 
tance of  this  final  meeting  of  father  and  son.  This  lasted 
two  minutes,  which  seemed  an  hour  to  Pierre.  Suddenly  a 
tremor  appeared  in  the  deep,  powerful  muscles  and  lines  of 
the  count's  face.  It  grew  more  pronounced;  the  handsome 
mouth  was  drawn  to  one  side  (this  caused  Pierre  for  the  first 
time  to  realize  how  near  to  death  his  father  was)  and  from 
the  drawn  mouth  proceeded  an  indistinguishable  hoarse  sound. 

Anna  Mikhailovna  looked  anxiously  mto  the  sick  man's 
eyes  and  tried  to  make  out  what  he  wanted,  pointing  first  at 
Pierre,  then  at  the  tumbler ;  then  she  asked  in  a  whisper  if 
she  should  call  Prince  Vasili,  then  pointed  at  the  quilt.  The 
sick  man's  face  and  eyes  expressed  impatience.  He  mustered 
force  enough  to  look  at  the  man  servant  who  never  left  his 
master's  bedside. 

"He  wants  to  be  turned  over  on  the  other  side,"  whispered 
the  servant,  and  proceeded  to  lift  and  turn  the  count's  heavy 
body,  face  to  the  wall, 

Pierre  got  up  to  help  the  servant. 

Just  as  they  were  turning  the  count  over,  one  of  his  arms 
fell  back  helplessly,  and  he  made  a  futile  effort  to  raise  it. 
Did  the  count  notice  the  look  of  terror  in  Pierre's  face  at  the 
sight  of  that  lifeless  arm?  or  did  some  other  thought  flash 
across  his  dying  brain  at  that  moment?  At  all  events,  he 
looked  at  his  disobedient  hand,  then  at  Pierre's  terror-stricken 
face  and  back  -to  his  hand  again,  and  over  his  lips  played  a 
martyr's  weak  smile  out  of  character  with  his  powerful  feat- 
ures, and  seeming  to  express  a  feeling  of  scorn  for  his  own 
lack  of  strength. 

At  the  sight  of  this  smile,  Pierre  unexpectedly  felt  an 
oppression  around  the  heart,  a  strange  pinching  in  his  nose, 
and  the  tears  dimmed  his  eyes. 

VOL.  1. — 7. 


98  WAR  AXD  PEACE. 

The  sick  man  lay  on  his  side  toward  the  wall.  He  drew  a 
long  sigh. 

''  He  is  going  to  sleep/'  said  Anna  Mikhailovna,  to  one  of 
the  nieces  who  returned  to  i^^atch.  —  **  AUons.'' 

Pierre  left  the  room. 


CHAPTER  XXTL 

There  was  no  one  in  the  reception-room  except  Prince 
Vasili  and  the  oldest  princess,  and  these  two  were  sitting 
under  the  empress's  portrait,  talking  eagerly  about  some- 
thing. As  soon  as  they  caught  sight  of  Pierre  and  his  guide, 
they  stopped,  and  it  seemed  to  the  young  man  that  the  prin- 
cess hid  something  and  whispered,  — 

"  I  cannot  abide  the  sight  of  that  woman." 

"Katish  has  had  tea  made  in  the  little  drawing-room,"  said 
Prince  Vasili  in  French,  addressing  Anna  Mikhailovna. 
"  Come,  ma  pauvre  Anna  Mikhailovna,  you  had  better  take 
something  to  eat ;  else  you  might  be  the  worse  for  it." 

He  said  nothing  to  Pierre,  but  gave  his  arm  a  sympathetic 
pressure  just  below  the  shoulder.  Pierre  and  Anna  Mikhai- 
lovna went  into  what  he  called  le  petit  salon. 

"  There  is  nothing  so  refi-eshing  as  a  cup  of  this  excellent 
Russian  tea,  after  a  sleepless  night,"  ♦  said  Doctor  Lorraine, 
with  an  expression  of  restrained  liveliness,  as  he  stood  in  the 
small,  circular  drawing-room,  sipping  his  tea  from  a  delicate 
porcelain  cup.  Just  back  of  him  was  a  table  with  the  tea  ser- 
vice and  a  cold  supper.  Around  the  table  were  gathered  for 
refreshments  all  those  who  were  spending  this  night  in  Count 
Bezukhoi's  mansion. 

Pierre  well  remembered  this  little  circular  drawing-room,  with 
its  mirrors  and  small  tables.  In  days  gone  by,  when  the 
count  gave  balls,  Pierre,  who  did  not  know  how  to  dance,  liked 
to  sit  in  this  little  room  of  mirrors  and  watch  the  ladies  in 
their  ball  toilets,  with  diamonds  and  pearls  on  their  bare  necks, 
as  they  passed  through,  glance  at  themselves  in  the  brightly 
illuminated  mirrors,  which  reflected  back  their  beauties. 

Now,  the  room  was  dimly  lighted  by  a  pair  of  candles,  and 
at  this  midnight  hour  there  stood  on  one  of  the  small  tables  a 
disorderly  array  of  tea  things,  while  a  motley  throng  of  peo- 
ple in  anything  but  ball  dresses  were  scattered  alwut  in  it  talk- 

♦  "  77  nV  a  rien  qvi  restaure  eomme  une  tasse  de  cet  ercellent  the  ntsse  apjr^a 
une  nuii  blanche. 


War  and  p^Acn,  99 

ing  in  whispers,  by  every  motion,  every  word,  evincing  how  lit- 
tle they  could  forget  what  was  now  taking  place  or  going  to 
take  place  in  that  chamber  of  death. 

Pierre  did  not  care  to  eat,  though  he  was  very  hungry.  He 
glaaced  inquiringly  at  his  guide,  and  saw  that  she  was  tiptoing 
back  to  the  reception-room,  whei-e  they  had  left  Prince  Vasili 
and  the  oldest  niece.  Pierre  took  it  for  granted  that  this  also  was 
a^  it  should  be,  and  after  waiting  a  little  while,  he  followed  her. 

Anna  Mikhailovna  was  standing  in  front  of  the  young  lady, 
and  both  were  talking  at  once  in  angry  undertones,  — 

''  Permit  me,  princess,  to  decide  what  is  necessary  and  what 
is  not  necessary,''  the  Princess  Katish  was  saying,  evidently 
still  in  the  same  angry  frame  of  mind  that  she  had  been  when 
she  slammed  the  door  of  her  room. 

*'But,  my  dear  young  princess,"  said  Anna  Mikhailovna,  in 
a  sweet  but  conclusive  manner,  barring  the  way  to  the  count^s 
chamber  and  not  allowing  the  young  lady  to  pass,  "  Will  this 
not  be  too  great  an  effort  for  your  uncle  at  this  time  when  he 
so  much  needs  rest  ?  At  this  time  any  conversation  about 
worldly  matters,  when  his  soul  has  already  been  prepared  "  — 

Prince  Vasili  still  sat  in  the  ai-m-chair  in  his  familiar  pos- 
ture»\vith  one  leg  thrown  over  the  other.  His  cheeks  twitched 
violently  and  seemed  to  grow  flabbier  than  usual,  but  he  pre- 
served the  attitude  of  a  man  to  whom  the  altercation  of  the  two 
women  was  of  no  consequence. 

**  Vof/ofis,  ma  bonne  Anna  Mikhailovna,  let  Katish  have  her 
way.    You  know  how  fond  the  count  is  of  her." 

"  I  don't  even  know  what  is  in  this  paper,"  said  the  young 
princess,  turning  to  Prince  Vasili  and  pointing  to  the  mosaic 
portfolio  which  she  had  in  her  hand,  "  I  only  know  that  his 
last  will  is  in  his  bureau,  but  this  is  a  paper  which  he  has  for- 
gotten," 

She  tried  to  pass  by  Anna  Mikhailovna,  but  Anna  Mikhai- 
lovna springing  forward  again  barred  her  way. 

"  I  know,  my  dear,  good  princess,"  said  Anna  Mikhailovna, 
pnibbing  the  portfolio,  and  so  firmly  that  it  was  evident  she 
would  not  let  go  in  a  hurry  ;  *'  My  dear  princess,  I  beg  of  you, 
I  lH*sepoh  you,  have  pity  upon  him.     Je  vous  en  conjure.-^ 

The  young  princess  said  not  a  word.  All  that  was  heard 
wa.s  the  noi.se  of  the  struggle  for  the  possession  of  the  portfolio. 

It  was  plain  to  see  that  if  she  had  opened  her  mouth  to  speak, 
what  she  said  would  not  have  been  flattering  for  Anna  Mikhai- 
lovna, The  latter  clung  to  the  portfolio  unflinchingly,  but, 
nevertheless,  her  voice  was  as  soft,  sweet,  and  gentle  as  ever. 


100  t^AR  AND  PBACe. 

"  Pierre,  my  dear,  come  here.  I  think  he  will  not  be  in  the 
way  in  this  family  council,  will  he  prince  ?  " 

"  Why  don't  you  speak,  inon  coiisin,^^  suddenly  cried  the  young 
princess,  so  loud  that  those  in  the  little  drawing-room  heard  it 
and  were  startled.  "  Why  don't  you  speak,  when  here  God 
knows  who  permits  herself  t-o  meddle  in  matters  that  don't 
concern  her,  and  make  scenes  on  the  very  threshold  of  the 
death  chamber  !  Intrigantka  !  "  she  hissed  in  a  loud  whisper, 
and  snatched  at  the  portfolio  with  all  her  force ;  but  Anna 
Mikhailovua  took  two  or  three  steps  forward  so  as  not  to  let 
go  her  hold  of  it,  and  succeeded  in  keeping  it  in  her  hand. 

"  Oh !  "  cried  Triuce  Vasili  reproachfully,  and  rising  in  sur- 
prise :     "  Cest  ridicule  /     Voyoiis  !     Let  go,  I  tell  you !  " 

The  Princess  Katish  obeyed.     "  You  also ! " 

Anna  Mikhailovna  paid  no  attention  to  him. 

*•  Drop  it,  1  tell  you.  I  will  assume  the  whole  responsibility. 
I  will  go  and  ask  him.     I  will.     That  ought  to  satisfy  you." 

"  3/«w,  mon  jprince^'*  said  Anna  Mikhailovna,  "  After  this 
great  mystery  allow  him  a  moment  of  rest.  Here,  Pierre,  give 
us  your  ojnnion,"  said  she,  turning  to  the  young  man,  who, 
coming  close  to  them,  looked  in  amazement  at  the  princess's 
angr}'  face,  from  which  all  dignity  had  departed,  and  at  Prince 
Vasili's  twitching  cheeks. 

"  Roinember  that  you  will  answer  for  all  the  consequences, 
said  Prince  Vasili,  angrily :  "you  don't  know  what  you  are  dc 
ing."^ 

"  You  vile  woman,"  screamed  the  young  princess,  unexpect- 
edly darting  at  Anna  Mikhailovna,  and  snatching  away  the 
portfolio.  Prince  Vasili  hung  his  head  and  spread  open  his 
hands. 

At  this  juncture,  that  terrible  door  at  which  Pierre  had  been 
looking  so  long,  and  which  was  usually  opened  so  gently,  was 
hastily  and  noisily  flung  back,  so  that  it  struck  against  the 
wall,  and  the  second  sister  rushed  out  wringing  her  hands. 

"  What  are  you  doing  ?  "  she  cried  in  despair,  "  He  is  dying, 
and  you  leave  mo  alone."  * 

The  Princess  Katerina  dropped  the  portfolio.  Anna  Mikhai- 
lovna hastily  bent  over  and  picking  up  the  precious  object, 
hastened  into  the  death-chamber.  The  Princess  Katerina  and 
l^rince  Viusili,  coming  to  their  senses,  followed  her.  In  a  few 
moments.  Princess  Katerina  came  out  again,  the  first  of  all, 
with  a  pale,  stern  face,  and  biting  her  lower  lip.  At  the  sight 
of  Pierre,  her  face  expressed  uncontrollable  hatred. 

•  *•  /Z  «*en  »a,  6<  tJOii«  me laUiez  leufe." 


do- 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  101 

**Yes,  now  you  can  swell  round,"  said  she,  "You  have  been 
waiting  for  this,"  and  beginning  to  sob,  she  hid  her  face  in 
her  handkerchief  and  ran  from  the  room. 

The  princess  was  followed  by  Prince  Vasili.  Reeling  a 
httle  he  went  to  the  sofa  on  which  Pierre  was  sitting  and 
flung  himself  on  it,  covering  his  face  with  his  hands.  Pierre 
noticed  that  he  was  pale,  and  that  his  lower  jaw  trembled 
and  shook  as  though  he  had  an  ague  attack. 

"Ah,  my  friend,"  said  he,  taking  Pierre  by  the  elbow,  and 
there  was  in  his  voice  a  sincerity  and  gentleness  which  Pierre 
had  never  before  noticed  in  it.  **How  we  sin  and  how  we 
cheat  and  all  for  what  ?  I  am  sixty  years  old,  my  dear.  — 
Look  at  me.  —  Death  is  the  end  of  all,  all !  Death  is  horri- 
ble ! "  and  he  burst  into  tears. 

Anna  Mikhailovna  came  out  last  of  all.  She  went  straight 
up  to  Pierre,  with  slow,  quiet  steps :  "  Pierre  ! "  said  she. 

Pierre  looked  at  her  inquiringly.  She  kissed  the  young 
man  on  the  forehead,  which  she  wet  with  her  tears.  Then 
after  a  silence  she  added,  —  • 

"  //  n'  est  plusy  he  is  dead." 

Pierre  looked  at  her  through  his  glasses. 

"  Come,  I  will  lead  you  away.  Try  to  weep.  Nothing  is 
so  consoling  as  tears."  * 

She  led  hina  into  the  dark  drawing-room,  and  Pierre  was 
relieved  that  no  one  was  there  to  see  his  face.  Anna  Mikhai- 
lovna left  him  there,  and  when  she  returned  he  was  sound 
asleep,  with  his  head  resting  on  his  arm. 

The  next  morning,  Anna  Mikhailovna  said  to  Pierre  in 
French,  — 

"  Yes,  my  dear,  it  is  a  great  loss  for  all  of  us.  I  am  not 
speaking  of  you.  But  God  will  give  you  support ;  you  are 
young,  and  at  the  head  of  an  immense  fortune,  I  hope.  The 
will  has  not  been  opened  yet.  I  know  you  well  enough  to 
believe  that  this  will  not  turn  your  head,  but  new  duties  will 
devolve  upon  you,  and  you  must  be  a  man." 

Pierre  made  no  reply. 

"Perhaps  later  I  will  tell  you,  7no7i  cher,  that  if  I  had  not 
been  here,  —  God  knows  what  might  have  happened.  You 
know,  mon  ancle,  only  the  day  before,  promised  me  that  he 
would  not  forget  Boris.  But  he  did  not  have  the  time;  I 
hope,  man  cher  ami,  that  you  will  fulfil  your  father's  desire." 

Pierre  entirely  failed  to  see  what  she  was  driving  at,  and 

•  *  •  Allong,  je  wms  reconduirai,    Tdchez  de  pleurer,    Bien  ne  90ulage  comme 
i:9  iarmes," 


102  ^y^R  AND  PL' ACE. 

without  saying  anything  and  reddening  with  mortification, 
looked  at  Anna  Mikhailovna.  Having  thus  spoken  with 
Pierre,  she  drove  back  to  the  Rostofs  and  lay  down  to  rest. 
After  her  nap,  that  same  morning,  she  began  to  tell  the  Eos- 
tofs  and  all  her  acquaintances  the  particulars  of  the  death  of 
Count  Bezukhoi. 

She  declared  that  the  count  had  died  as  she  herself  would 
wish  to  die,  that  his  end  had  been  not  only  pathetic  but  even 
edifying;  the  last  meeting  of  father  and  son  had  been  so 
touching  that  she  could  not  think  of  it  without  tears,  and  that 
she  could  not  tell  which  had  borne  himself  with  the  more 
composure  during  these  dreadful  moments,  the  father  who 
had  had  a  thought  for  everything  and  every  one  during  tliose 
last  hours,  and  had  spoken  such  affectionate  and  touching 
words  to  his  son,  or  Pierre,  whom  it  was  pitiful  to  see,  he 
was  so  overcome  and  yet  in  spite  of  it,  struggled  so  manfully 
to  hide  his  grief,  so  as  not  to  i)ain  his  dying  father. 

"  Such  scenes  are  painful,  but  they  do  one  good,  it  is  elevat- 
ing to  the  soul  to  see  su^  men  as  the  old  count  and  his  noble 
son."* 

As  to  the  actions  of  the  Princess  Katerina  and  Prince  Vasili 
she  spoke  of  them  also;  but  in  terms  of  reprobation,  and 
under  the  promise  of  the  strictest  secrecy. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

The  arrival  of  the  young  Prince  Andrei  and  his  wife  at 
Luisiya  Gorui,  (Bald  Hills)  Prince  Nikolai  Andreyevitch  Bol- 
konsky's  estate,  was  daily  expected.  But  this  did  not  make 
any  break  at  all  in  the  strenuous  routine  according  to  which 
life  in  the  old  prince's  mansion  was  regulated.  Prince  Niko- 
lai Andreyevitch,  a  former  gencral-in-chief,  popularly  called 
le  roi  de  Prusse,  had  been  banished  to  his  estates  during  the 
reign  of  the  Emperor  Paul,  and  had  lived  like  a  hermit  there 
ever  since  with  his  daughter,  the  Princess  Mariya,  and  hor 
hired  companion.  Mile.  Bourienne. 

Even  after  the  death  of  Paul,  although  he  was  free  to  go 
wherever  he  pleased,  he  still  continued  to  live  exclusively  in 
the  country,  saying  that  if  any  one  wanted  him,  it  was  only 
half  a  hundred  versts  from  Moscow  to  Luisiya  Gorui,  while  as 
far  as  he  was  concerned  he  wanted  nothing  and  nobody. 

*  **C*est  p^nible,  mai$  cdafait  du  bien ;  ca  elev^  Vdme  tie  voir  4e9  homme$ 
le  vieux  comte  et  son  diyneJU^^** 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  103 

He  declared  that  there  were  only  two  sources  of  human 
vice,  idleness  and  superstition ;  and  only  two  virtues,  activity 
and  intelligence. 

He  himself  undertook  his  daughter's  education,  and  in 
order  to  inculcate  both  these  virtues  he  had  given  her  les- 
sons up  to  the  age  of  twenty  in  algebra  and  geometry,  and 
had  apportioned  her  life  into  an  uninterrupted  system  of 
occupations. 

He  himself  was  constantly  engaged  in  writing  his  memoirs, 
or  in  solving  problems  in  the  higher  mathematics,  or  in  turn- 
ing snuff-boxes  on  a  lathe,  or  iu  working  in  his  garden  and 
superintending  the  erection  of  buildings  which  were  always 
going  up  on  his  estate.  As  the  chief  condition  of  activity  is 
order,  therefore  order  in  his  scheme  of  life  was  cjirried  to  the 
last  degree  of  minuteness.  His  appearance  at  meals  invaria- 
bly took  place  under  the  same  circumstances,  and  jit  not  only 
the  same  hour  but  the  same  moment  each  day. 

The  prince  was  sharp  and  scrupulously  exacting  with  the 
people  around  hun,  from  his  daught^  to  the  humblest  menial, 
and  therefore,  while  he  was  not  cruel,  he  inspired  an  awe  and 
deference  such  as  it  would  have  been  diflS.cult  for  even  the 
cruelest  man  to  exact. 

Although  he  was  living  in  seclusion,  and  had  now  no  influ- 
ence in  matters  of  state,  every  nachalnik  of  the  government 
in  which  he  lived  considered  it  his  duty  to  pay  his  respects  to 
him,  and,  precisely  the  same  as  the  architect  or  the  gardener 
or  the  Princess  Mariya,  waited  the  designated  hour  for  the 
prince's  appearance  in  the  lofty  hall.  And  each  one  of  those 
waiting  in  this  hall  experienced  the  same  feeling  of  awe  and 
fear  as  soon  as  the  massive  door  of  his  cabinet  swung  open, 
and  the  form  of  the  little  old  man  appeared,  in  his  j)owdered 
wig,  with  his  small,  dry  hands  and  pendulous  gray  eyebrows, 
which  sometimes  when  he  frowned  concealed  the  gleam  of  his 
keen  and  youthfully  glittering  eyes. 

On  the  morning  of  the  day  when  the  young  couple  were 
expected,  the  Princess  Mariya  as  usual,  at  the  regular  hour, 
(aine  down  into  the  hall  to  wish  her  father  good  morning,  and 
with  fear  and  trembling  crossed  herself  and  repeated  an 
inward  prayer.  Each  morning  she  came  the  same  way,  and 
each  morning  she  prayed  that  their  daily  meeting  might  be 
propitious. 

The  old  servant  in  a  powdered  wig,  who  was  sitting  in  the 
hall,  got  up  quietly  and  addressed  her  in  a  respectful  whisper. 

Beyond  the  door  could  be  beard  the  monotonous  hum  of  the 


104  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

lathe.  The  princess  timidly  opened  the  door,  which  moved 
easily  and  noiselessly  on  its  hinges,  and  stood  at  the  entrance. 
The  prince  was  working  at  his  lathe.  He  looked  round  and 
then  went  on  with  his  work. 

The  great  cabinet  was  full  of  things,  apparently  in  constant 
use :  a  huge  table,  whereon  lay  books  and  plans ;  the  lofty 
bookcases,  with  keys  in  the  mirror-lined  doors  ;  a  high  reading 
desk  J  a  cabinet-maker's  lathe,  with  various  kinds  of  tools  and 
shavings  and  chips  scattered  around ;  —  all  this  indicated  a  con- 
stant, varied,  and  regular  activity. 

By  the  motion  of  his  small  foot,  shod  Tatar  fashion  in  a  sil- 
ver-embroidered boot,  by  the  firm  pressure  of  his  sinewy,  thin 
hand,  it  could  be  seen  that  the  prince  had  still  the  tenacious 
and  not  easily  impaired  strength  of  a  green  old  age. 

Having  made  a  few  more  turns,  he  took  his  foot  from  the 
treadle  of  the  lathe,  wiped  his  chisel,  put  it  in  a  leather  pocket 
attached  to  the  lathe,  and  going  to  the  table  called  his  daughter 
to  him.  He  never  wasted  blessings  on  his  children,  and  there- 
fore, merely  offering  his  bristly  cheek,  which  had  not  as  yet 
been  shaven  for  the  day,  he  said,  with  a  severe  and  at  the  same 
time  keenly  affectionate  look, — 

"Are  you  well  ?  —  Now  then,  sit  down." 

He  took  a  copy  book  of  geometrical  work  written  out  in 
his  own  hand,  and  pushed  his  chair  along  with  his  foot. 

"  For  to  morrow,"  said  he,  briskly,  turning  to  the  page,  and 
marking  the  paragraphs  with  his  stiff  nail.  The  princess 
leaned  over  the  table  toward  the  note-book.  **  Wait,  a  letter 
for  yon,"  said  the  old  man  abruptly,  taking  an  envelope  ad- 
dressed in  a  feminine  hand  from  the  pocket  fastened  to  the 
table  and  tossing  it  to  her. 

The  princess's  face  colored  in  blotches  at  the  sight  of  the 
letter.     She  hastily  picked  it  up  and  examined  it  intently. 

*|  From  your  Heloise  ?  "  asked  the  prince,  with  a  chillinj^ 
smile  that  showed  his  teeth  that  were  still  sound  though 
yellow. 

"  Yes,  from  Julie,"  said  the  princess,  timidly  glancing  up 
and  timidly  smiling. 

"  I  shall  allow  two  more  letters  to  pass,  but  I  shall  read  the 
third,"  said  the  prince,  severely.  "  I  fear  you  pen  much  non- 
sense.    I  shall  read  the  third." 

"  You  may  read  this,  mon  pere,^*  replied  the  princess,  with  a 
still  deeper  flush,  and  holding  the  letter  toward  him. 

"  The  third,  I  said,  the  third,"  rejoined  the  prince,  laconi- 
cally, pushing  away  the  letter  j  then,  leaning  his  elbow  on  the 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  106 

table,  lie  laid  the  note-book  with  the  geometrical  designs  before 
her. 

"  Well,  young  lady,"  ♦  began  the  old  man,  bending  over  toward 
his  daughter  and  laying  one  arm  on  the  back  of  her  chair,  so 
that  the  young  princess  felt  herself  surrounded  by  that  pecul- 
iar acrid  odor  of  tobacco  and  old  age  which  she  had  so  long 
learned  to  associate  with  her  father.  "  Well,  young  lady,  these 
triangles  are  equal ;  if  you  will  observe  the  angle  abc."  —  The 
princess  gazed  in  dismay  at  her  father's  glittering  eyes  so  near 
to  her ;  the  red  patches  again  overspread  her  face,  and  it  was 
evident  that  she  had  not  the  slightest  comprehension  of  what 
he  said,  and  was  so  overcome  with  fear  that  it  really  prevented 
her  from  comprehending  any  of  her  father's  instructions,  no 
matter  how  clearly  they  were  expressed. 

The  teacher  may  have  been  at  fault,  or  the  pupil  may 
have  been,  but  each  day  the  same  thing  recurred ;  the  prin- 
cess's eyes  pained  her ;  she  could  not  see  anything  or  hear  any- 
thing; all  that  she  felt  was  the  consciousness  of  her  stern 
father's  withered  face,  the  consciousness  of  his  breath  and 
peculiar  odor,  and  her  single  thought  was  to  escape  as  soon  as 
possible  from  the  cabinet  and  solve  the  problem  by  herself 
in  peace.  The  old  man  would  lose  all  patience  ;  noisily  push 
back  the  chair  in  which  he  was  sitting  and  then  draw  it  for- 
ward again ;  then  he  would  exert  his  self-control  so  as  not  to 
break  out  into  a  fury,  but  rarely  succeed,  and  sometimes  he 
would  fling  the  note-book  upon  the  floor. 

The  princess  anade  a  mistake  in  her  answer. 

"  Now,  how  can  you  be  so  stupid ! "  stormed  the  prince, 
throwing  aside  the  note-book  and  hastily  turning  away ;  then 
he  rose  to  his  feet,  walked  up  and  down,  laid  his  hand  on  her 
hair,  and  again  sitting  down,  drew  close  to  her  and  proceeded 
with  his  instructions. 

"No  use,  princess,  no  use,"  said  he,  as  the  young  lady  took 
the  lesson-book,  and  closing  it  started  to  leave  the  room : 
"  mathematics  is  a  great  thing,  my  girl,  and  I  don't  wish  you 
to  be  like  our  stupid,  silly  women.  By  dint  of  perseverance 
one  learns  to  like  it,"  he  patted  her  on  the  cheek  "  the  dulness 
will  vanish  from  your  brain." 

She  started  to  go  ;  he  detained  her  by  a  gesture,  and  took 
down  fiom  the  high  table  a  new  book  with  uncut  leaves. 
"Here,  your  Heloise  has  sent  you  something  else;  some  'Key 
to  the  Mystery,'  a  religious  work.  I  don't  interfere  with  any 
one's  belief.    1  looked  it  over.    Take  it.    Now,  be  off ;  be  off." 

*^u  tuddruinya. 


106  WAR   AND  PEACE. 

He  patted  her  on  the  shoulder  and  closed  the  door  himself^ 
after  she  had  gone  out. 

The  young  Princess  Mariya,  returned  to  her  chamber  with 
the  pensive,  scared  expression  which  rarely  left  her,  and  which 
rendered  her  plain,  sickly  face  still  more  unattractive.  She 
sat  down  at  her  writing-table  covered  with  miniature  portraits 
and  cluttered  with  note-books  and  volumes.  The  princess  was 
just  as  disorderly  as  her  father  was  systematic:  she  threw 
down  her  book  of  problems  and  hastily  broke  the  seal  of  the 
letter,  which  was  from  the  most  intimate  friend  of  her  child- 
hood :  this  was  no  other  than  the  Julie  Karagina  who  was  at 
the  RostoFs  on  the  day  of  the  fete. 

Julie  read  as  follows, — * 

"  Ch^re  et  excellente  amie  :  —  What  a  terrible  and  frightful 
thing  is  distance  !  It  is  in  vain  that  I  tell  myself  that  half  of 
my  existence  and  happiness  is  in  you,  that,  in  spite  of  the  dis- 
tance which  lies  between  us,  our  hearts  are  bound  to  each  other 
by  indissoluble  ties ;  mine  rebels  against  my  fate,  and,  not- 
withstanding all  the  pleasures  and  attractions  Jbhat  surround 
me,  I  cannot  overcome  a  certain  lurking  sadness  which  I  have 
felt  in  the  depths  of  my  heart  ever  since  our  separation.  Why 
are  we  not  together  as. we  were  this  past  summer  in  your  great 
cabinet,  on  the  blue  sofa, — le  canape  a  confidences?  Why 
can  I  not  now,  as  I  did  three  months  ago,  draw  fresh  moral 
strength  from  your  eyes,  so  sweet,  so  calm,  so  penetrating,  the 
eyes  which  I  loved  so  much  and  which  I  imagine  I  see  before 
me  as  I  write." 

Having  read  to  this  point,  the  Princess  Mariya  sighed  and 
glanced  at  the  pier-glass  that  stood  over  against  her,  reflect- 
ing her  slight,  homely  fonn  and  thin  face.  Her  eyes,  which 
wete  generally  melancholy,  just  now  looked  with  a  peculiarly 
hopeless  expression  at  her  image  in  the  glass. 

"  She  is  flattering  me,"  said  the  princess  to  herself,  turning 
away  and  continuing  her  reading  of  the  letter.  Julie,  however, 
had  not  flattered  her  friend :  in  reality,  the  princess's  eyes 
were  large,  deep,  and  luminous,  sometimes  whole  sheaves,  as  it 
were,  of  soft  light  seemed  to  gleam  forth  from  them ;  and  then 
they  were  so  beautiful  that  they  transformed  her  whole  face, 
notwithstanding  the  plainness  of  her  features,  and  gave  her  a 
charm  that  was  more  attractive  than  mere  beauty. 

But  the  young  princess  had  never  seen  the  beautiful  expres- 
sion of  her  own  eyes,  the  expression  which  they  had  at  times 
when  she  was  not  thinking  of  herself.  Like  most  people,  her 
*  The  letters  in  this  chapter  are  in  Frenoh  in  the  orig:inal. 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  107 

face  assumed  an  affectedly  unnatural  and  ill-favored  e^cpres- 
sion  as  soon  as  she  looked  into  the  glass. 

She  went  on  with  the  letter, — 

"  All  Moscow  is  talking  of  nothing  but  the  war.  One  of  my 
two  brothers  has  already  gone  abroad ;  the  other  is  with  the 
Guard,  which  is  just  about  to  set  out  for  the  frontier.  Our  be- 
lo7ed  emperor  has  left  Petersburg,  and,  according  to  what  they 
say  is  intending  to  expose  his  precious  life  to  the  perils  of  war. 
God  grant  that  the  Corsican  monster,  who  is  destroying  the 
peace  of  Europe,  may  be  laid  low  by  the  angel  whom  the  Al- 
mighty, in  his  mercy,  has  sent  to  rule  over  us. 

**lsot  to  speak  of  my  brothers,  this  war  has  deprived  me  of 
one  who  is  nearest  and  dearest  to  my  heart:  I  mean  the  young 
Nikolai  Bostof,  who  was  so  enthusiastic  that  he  was  unable  to 
endure  inactivity,  and  has  left  the  university  to  join  the  army. 
Eh  hien,  ma  ch^re  Marie,  I  will  confess  to  you,  that,  notwith- 
stai^ing  his  extreme  youth,  his  departure  for  the  army  is  a 
great  grief  to  me.  The  young  man,  —  I  told  you  about  him 
last  summer  —  has  so  much  nobility,  so  much  of  that  gen- 
uine youth  fulness,  which  we  meet  with  so  rarely  in  this  age  of 
ours,  among  our  old  men  of  twenty !  He  has  really  so  much 
candor  and  heart !  he  is  so  pure  and  poetic,  that  my  acquain- 
tan(»i  with  him,  slight  as  it  has  been,  must  be  counted  as  one 
of  the  sweetest  enjoyments  of  my  poor  heart,  which  has  already 
suffered  so  keenly.  Some  day  I  will  tell  you  of  our  parting 
and  what  passed  between  us.  As  yet,  it  is  still  too  fresh  in  my 
memory. 

"  Ah !  ehere  amie !  how  happy  you  are  not  to  experience 
these  joys  and  these  pangs  so  keen !  You  are  fortunate,  because 
the  latter  are  usually  the  keenest.  I  know  very  well  that  Count 
Nikolai  is  too  young  ever  to  be  anything  to  me  more  than  a 
friend,  but  this  sweet  friendship,  these  relations,  so  poetic  and 
so  pure,  have  become  one  of  the  necessities  of  my  heart.  But 
enough  of  this ! 

"The  chief  news  of  the  day,  which  all  Moscow  is  engaged  in 
talking  about,  is  the  death  of  the  old  Count  Bezukhoi  and  his 
inheritance.  Just  imagine  :  the  three  princesses  get  very  lit- 
tle. Prince  Vasili,  nothing,  and  it  is  Monsieur  Pierre  who  has 
inherited  everything.  He  has,  moreover,  been  declared  legiti- 
mate, and  is,  therefore.  Count  Bezukhoi,  and  the  possessor  of 
the  finest  foi-tune  in  Russia.  It  is  claimed  that  Prince  Vasili 
has  played  a  very  poor  part  in  this  whole  business,  and  that  he 
has  gone  back  to  Petersburg  very  much  crestfallen. 

"I  confess  I  have  very  little  understanding  of  this  mat- 


108  W^^^  ^-V2>  PEACE. 

ter  of  the  beqaests  and  the  will ;  all  I  know  is,  that  since  this 
young  man  whom  we  knew  under  the  name  of  Monsieur 
Pierre,  pure  and  simple,  has  liecome  Count  Bezukhoi  and  mas- 
ter of  one  of  the  greatest  fortunes  of  Kussia,  I  am  greatly 
amused  to  notice  the  changed  tone  and  behavior  of  mammas 
burdened  with  marriageable  daughters,  and  even  the  young 
ladies  themselves,  towwl  this  individual,  who,  parenthetically, 
has  always  seemed  to  me  to  be  a  poor  specimen.  As  it  has  been 
the  amusement  of  many  people  for  the  past  few  years  to  marry 
me  off,  and  generally  to  men  whom  I  do  not  even  know,  la 
Chronique  matrimoniale  of  Moscow  now  makes  me  out  Coun- 
tess Bezukhova.  You  know  perfectly  well  that  I  have  no 
desire  of  acquiring  that  position ! 

'*' Ajyropos  de  marlage,  do  you  know  that  quite  recently  la 
tante  eti  general,  Anna  Mikhailovna,  has  confided  to  me,  under 
the  seal  of  the  strictest  secrecy,  a  marriage  project  for  you :  this 
is  neither  more  nor  less  than  Prince  Vasili's  son,  Anatol,  whom 
it  is  proposed  to  bring  to  order  by  marrying  him  to  a  young 
lady  of  wealth  and  distinction,  and  you  are  the  one  upon  whom 
the  choice  of  the  relatives  has  fallen.  I  know  not  how  yoii 
will  look  upon  the  matter,  but  I  felt  that  it  was  my  duty  to  in- 
form you.  They  say  he  is  very  handsome  and  a  great  scape- 
grace ;  that  is  all  that  I  have  been  able  to  find  out  about  him. 

"  But  a  truce  to  gossip  like  this.  I  am  at  the  end  of  my 
second  sheet,  and  mamma  is  calling  me  to  go  to  dine  at  the 
Apraksins.  Read  the  mystic  book  which  I  send  you,  and  which 
is  all  the  rage  with  us.  Although  there  are  things  in  this  book 
difficult  for  the  feeble  mind  of  man  to  fathom,  it  is  an  admira- 
ble work,  the  reading  of  which  soothes  and  elevates  the  mind. 
Adieu.  My  respects  to  your  father,  and  my  compliments  to 
Mile.  Bourienne.     I  embrace  you  with  all  my  heart. 

"Julie. 

"  P.  S.  Tell  me  the  news  about  your  brother  and  his  charm- 
ing little  wife.'^ 

The  princess  sat  thinking,  a  pensive  smile  playing  over  her 
lips ;  her  face,  lighted  up  by  her  luminous  eyes,  was  perfectly 
transfigured;  then  suddenly  jumping  up  she  walked  briskly 
across  the  room  to  her  table.  She  got  out  some  paper  and  her 
hand  began  to  fly  rapidly  over  it.  This  was  what  she  wrote 
in  reply. 

'*  Chere  et  excellente  amis: — Your  letter  of  the  thirteenth 
caused  me  great  delight.  So,  then,  you  still  love  me,  my  poetic 
Julie.     And  absence,  of  which  you  say  such  hard  thingS|  has 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  109 

not  had  its  usual  effect  upon  you.  You  complain  of  absence  — 
what  should  I  have  to  say  if  I  dared  complain,  bereft  as  I  am 
of  aU  those  who  are  dearest  to  me  ?  Ah !  if  we  had  not  religion 
to  console  us,  life  would  be  very  sad. 

**  Why  should  you  suspect  me  of  looking  stern,  when  you 
speak  to  me  of  your  affection  for  the  young jnan  ?  In  this  re- 
spect, I  am  lenient  to  all  except  myself.  I  appreciate  these  sen- 
timents in  others,  and  if  I  cannot  approve  of  them  (never  hav- 
ing myself  experienced  them),  I  do  not  condemn  them.  It 
only  seemed  to  me  that  Christian  love,  love  for  our  neighbor, 
love  for  our  enemies,  is  moi-e  meritorious,  and,  therefore, 
sweeter  and  more  beautiful  than  those  sentiments  inspired  in 
a  poetic  and  loving  young  girl  like  you  by  a  young  man's  hand- 
some eyes. 

"  The  news  of  Count  Bezukhoi's  death  reached  us  in  advance 
of  your  letter,  and  my  father  was  very  much  moved  by  it.  He 
says  that  he  was  the  last  representative  but  one  of  the  ^  grand 
Steele^  and  that  now  it  is  his  turn ;  but  that  he  shall  do  his  best 
to  put  it  off  as  long  as  possible.  God  preserve  us  from  such  a 
terrible  misfortune ! 

"I  cannot  agree  with  you  in  your  judgment  of  Pierre,  whom 
I  knew  as  a  boy.  He  always  seemed  to  me  to  have  an  excel- 
lent heart  and  that  is  the  quality  which  I  most  value  in  people. 
As  to  his  inheritance  and  the  role  played  by  Prince  Vasili,  it  is 
very  sad  for  both  of  them.  Ah,  dear  friend !  our  divine  Sav- 
iour's saying,  that  it  is  easier  for  a  camel  to  pass  through  the 
eye  of  a  needle  than  for  a  rich  man  to  enter  into  the  kingdom 
of  God  is  terribly  true ;  I  pity  Prince  Vasili  and  I  am  still 
more  sorry  for  Pierre.  So  young,  and  to  be  loaded  down  with 
this  wealth ;  what  temptations  will  he  not  have  to  undergo  ! 
If  I  were  asked  what  I  should  desire  most  in  this  world,  it 
would  be  to  be  poorer  than  the  poorest  of  beggars. 

"  A  thousand  thanks,  cklre  amie,  for  the  work  which  you 
send  me  and  which  is  so  much  the  rage  with  you  in  Moscow. 
However,  as  you  say  that  while  there  are  many  good  things  in 
it,  there  are  others  which  the  feeble  mind  of  man  cannot  fathom, 
it  seems  to  me  quite  idle  to  waste  one's  time  in  reading  what 
is  unintelligible,  and  which,  therefore,  can  be  productive  of  no 
good  fruit.  I  have  never  been  able  to  understand  the  passion 
which  some  people  have  for  disturbing  their  minds  by  devot- 
ing themselves  to  mystical  books  that  only  arouse  doubts, 
kindling  their  imaginations,  and  giving  them  a  love  for  exag- 
geration utterly  contrary  to  Christian  simplicity.  Let  us  read 
the  Apostles  and  the  Gospels.     Let  us  give  up  trying  to  pene- 


110  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

trate  the  mysteries  they  con  tain,  for  how  should  we,  misera- 
ble sinners  that  we  are,  presume  to  investigate  the  terrible 
secrets  of  Providence,  while  we  carry  with  us  this  garment  of 
flesh  which  forms  an  impenetrable  veil  between  us  and  the  Eter- 
nal ?  Then  let  us  confine  ourselves  to  a  studying  of  the  sublime 
principles  which  our  divine  Saviour  has  left  for  our  guidance 
here  below ;  let  us  seek  to  conform  to  them  and  follow  them, 
being  persuaded  that  the  less  rein  we  give  to  our  feeble  human 
minds,  the  more  pleasing  it  is  to  God,  Who  repudiates  all 
knowledge  not  proceeding  from  Him ;  that  the  less  we  seek  to 
explore  what  it  has  seen  best  to  Him  to  hide  from  our  compre- 
hension, the  sooner  He  will  grant  us  to  discover  it  by  His 
divine  spirit. 

**  My  father  has  not  said  anything  to  me  of  a  suitor ;  he 
has  merely  told  me  of  having  received  a  letter  and  of  expecting 
a  visit  from  Prince  Vasili.  As  far  as  the  project  of  marriage 
concerns  me,  I  will  tell  you  chere  et  excellente  amie,  that  in 
my  opinion,  marriage  is  a  divine  institution  to  which  it  is 
necessary  to  conform.  However  painful  it  might  be  to  me,  if  the 
Almighty  should  ever  impose  upon  me  the  duties  of  a  wife  and 
mother,  I  shall  endeavor  to  till  them  as  faithfully  as  I  can, 
without  disturbing  myself  by  inquiring  into  the  nature  of  my 
feelings  toward  him  whom  He  shall  give  me  as  a  husband. 

**•  I  have  had  a  letter  from  my  brother,  announcing  his  speedy 
arrival  at  Luisiya  Gorui  with  his  wife.  This  will  be  a  joy  of 
short  duration,  for  he  will  leave  us  to  take  part  in  this  un- 
happy war,  into  which  we  are  dragged  God  knows  why  and  how. 
Not  alone  with  you,  at  the  centre  of  business  and  society,  is 
the  war  the  only  topic  of  conversation,  but  here  amid  the 
labors  of  the  fields,  and  that  calm  of  nature  which  the  inhabi- 
tants of  cities  ordinarily  imagine  to  be  peculiar  to  the  country, 
the  rumors  of  the  war  make  themselves  painfully  heard  and 
felt.  My  father  can  talk  of  nothing  else  but  marches  and 
countermarches,  things  of  which  I  have  no  comprehension,  and 
day  before  yesterday,  wliile  taking  my  usual  walk  down  the 
village  street,  I  witnessed  a  heartrending  scene:  it  was  a 
party  of  recruits,  enlisted  on  our  estate  and  on  their  way  to 
the  army.  You  ought  to  have  seen  the  state  in  which  were 
the  mothers,  wives  and  children  pf  the  men  who  were  off,  and 
to  have  heard  their  sobs.  You  should  think  that  humanity 
had  forgotten  the  i)recei)t8  of  their  divine  Saviour,  Who  taught 
Jove,  and  the  forgiveness  of  offences;  one  would  think  that 
they  imputed  their  greatest  merit  to  the  art  of  killing  each 
other.  ° 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  Ill 

"Adieu,  chtre  et  bonne  amief  May  our  divine  Saviour  and 
His  Holy  Mother  keep  you  in  their  holy  and  powerful  keep- 
ing. "Marie." 

"  Ah,  you  are  despatching  a  courier,  princess ;  I  have  already 
sent  mine ;  I  have  written  to  iny  poor  mother,"  *  said  the  smil- 
ing Mile.  Bourriene,  speaking  rapidly  and  swallowing  her  K's, 
and  altogether  bringing  into  the  Princess  Mariya's  concentrated 
and  melancholy  atmosphere  what  seemed  like  the  breath  of 
another  world,  where  reigned  gayety,  light-heartedness,  and 
complacency. 

"  Princess,  I  must  warn  you,"  she  added,  lowering  her  voice, 
"the  prince  has  had  a  quarrel  with  Mikhail  Ivanof.  He  is  in 
a  very  bad  humor;  very  morose.     I  warn  you,  —  you  know." 

"Ah,  chere  amie,^  replied  the  Princess  Mariya,  "I  have 
asked  of  you  never  to  speak  to  me  of  the  humor  in  which  my 
father  happens  to  be.  I  do  not  allow  myself  to  make  remarks 
about  him  and  I  do  not  wish  others  to." 

The  princess  glanced  at  her  watch  and  noticing  that  she  was 
already  five  minutes  behind  the  time  when  it  was  required  of  her 
to  practise  on  the  harpsichord,  she  hurried  from  the  room  witli 
dismay  pictured  on  her  face.  Between  twelve  o'clock  and  two 
the  prince  took  his  nap,  and  it  was  the  immutable  rule  of  the 
house  that  the  princess  then  should  practise. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

The  gray-haired  man-servant  was  sitting  in  the  cabinet,  doz- 
ing and  listening  to  the  prince's  snoring.  From  a  distant  part 
of  the  house,  through  the  closed  doors,  came  the  notes  of  a  diffi- 
cult phrase  of  a  Dussek  sonata,  repeated  for  the  twentieth 
time. 

At  this  time,  a  coach  and  a  britchka  drove  up  to  the  entrance 
door  and  from  the  coach  descended  Prince  Andrei,  who  handed 
his  little  wife  down  and  allowed  her  to  pass  aliead  of  him.  The 
gray-haired  Tikhon,  in  a  wig,  thrust  his  head  out  of  the  hall 
door  and  infonned  them  in  a  whisper  that  the  prince  was  asleep 
and  tlien  softly  closed  the  door.  Tikhon  was  well  aware  that 
not  even  the  arrival  of  the  son,  nor  any  other  event,  however 
nncommon,  should  be  allowed  to  interrupt  the  order  of  the  day. 
Prince  Andrei  knew  this  as  well  as  Tikhon ;  he  looked  at  his 

•  "  JA,  vou$  exp^diez  ce  courierr  princesse ;  moi,j*ai  dijh  expedi^  le  mien, 
J'ai  icrii  a  mapauwre  mere." 


112  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

watch,  as  thongh  to  convince  himself  that  there  had  been  no 
change  in  his  father^s  habits  since  he  had  seen  him,  and  hav- 
ing satisfied  himself  on  that  score,  turned  to  his  wife. 

"  He  will  be  awake  in  twenty  minutes.  Let  us  go  to  the 
Princess  Mariya,"  said  he. 

The  little  princess  had  grown  stouter,  but  her  eyes  and  her 
short,  downy  lip,  and  her  sweet  smile  were  just  the  same  as 
ever. 

"  Mais  c^esf  nn  palais  !  "  she  exclaimed,  glancing  around  with 
an  expression  such  as  people  have  in  congratulating  a  host  on 
a  ball.  "  Come  along  quick,  quick !  "  and  she  glanced  with  a 
smile  at  Tikhon  and  her  husband  and  the  footman  who  was 
leading  the  way.  "  It's  Marie  practising :  let  us  go  softly,  so 
as  to  surprise  her." 

Prince  Andrei  'followed  her,  with  a  polite  but  bored  expres- 
sion. 

"  You  have  grown  older,  Tikhon,"  said  he  to  the  old  man- 
servant, who,  as  he  passed  by,  kissed  his  hand. 

Just  as  they  reached  the  room  where  the  harpsichord  was 
heard,  the  pretty,  fair-haired  Frenchwoman  came  tripping  out. 
Mile.  Bourienne  seemed  overjoyed  to  see  them. 

"  Ah,  quel  honhenr  pour  la  princessef  she  cried,  "you  are 
here  at  last.     I  must  go  and  tell  her." 

"  NoTiy  norij  I  beg  of  you !  You  are  Mile  Bourienne ;  I  know 
you  already  from  the  friendship  which  my  sister-in-law  has 
for  you,"  said  the  princess,  kissing  her;  "she  is  not  expect- 
ing us  ?  " 

They  went  to  the  door  of  the  sitting-room,  where  the  phrase 
was  being  repeated  again  and  again.  Prince  Andrei  pau;»ed 
and  frowned,  as  though  he  were  expecting  a  disagreeable  scieiie. 

The  princess  went  in.  The  phrase  was  broken  off  in  the 
middle ;  a  cry  was  heard,  followed  by  the  sound  of  hasty  foot- 
steps and  kisses.  When  Prince  Andrei  went  in,  the  two  sis- 
ters-in-law, who  had  only  met  once  for  a  short  time,  at  Prince 
Andrei's  wedding,  were  still  locked  in  a  fond  embrace,  just  as 
at  the  first  moment  of  their  meeting.  Mile.  Bourienne  was  stand- 
ing near  them,  with  her  hand  on  her  heart  and 'a  Beatific  smile  on 
her  lips,  evidently  as  ready  to  cry  as  to  laugh.  Prince  Andrei 
shrugged  his  shoulders  and  frowned,  just  as  lovei-s  of  music 
frown  when  they  hear  a  discord.  Both  the  women  stood  apart ; 
then  once  again,  as  though  time  were  precious,  they  seized^iftch 
other's  hand  and  began  to  kiss  them  ;  and  not  satisfied  v^th 
kissing  their  hands,  they  began  to  kiss  each  other  in  the  face, 
and  to  Prince  Andrei's  unquaUfied  surprise,  they  both  burst 


WAR  AND  PEACE,  113 

into  tears  and  agaih  began  to  kiss  each  other.  Mile.  Bourienne 
was  also  melted ;  it  was  awkward  enough  for  Prince  Andrei, 
but  to  the  women  it  seemed  perfectly  natural  to  weep ;  indeed, 
they  could  never  have  dreamed  of  a  meeting  without  such  an 
accompaniment. 

"Ah,  ckh'e/"  "Ah,  Marie!"  they  kept  exclaiming,  amid 
laughter  and  tears.  "I  dreamed  about  you  last  night."  "  Ah, 
Marie,  you  have  grown  thin."  "And  you  have  grown  so 
stout ! " 

*^tPa{  tout  de  suite  recannu  inadame  la  princesse,^^  put  in  Mile. 
Bourienne. 

"  And  here  was  I  not  thinking  of  such  a  thing ! "  •  cried  the 
Princess  Mariya.  .  "  Ah,  Andrei,  I  did  not  see  you ! " 

Prince  Andrei  kissed  his  sister^s  hand,  and  told  her  that  she 
was  as  great  a  cry-baby  as  ever.  The  Princess  Mariya  turned  to 
her  brother,  and  through  her  tears,  her  eyes,  now  large  and 
beautiful  and  luminous,  rested  on  him  with  a  fond,  gentle,  and 
sweet  expression. 

The  young  wife  chattered  incessantly.  Her  short,  downy 
upper  lip  every  instant  drew  down  and  touched  the  rosy  under 
lip,  and  then  curled  again  with  the  brilliant  smile  that  made 
her  eyes  and  her  teeth  shine.  She  related  about  an  accident 
that  happened  at  Spdskaya  Gord  which  threatened  to  be  seri- 
ously dangerous  in  her  condition,  and  then  she  apprised  them 
that  she  had  left  all  her  dresses  in  Petersburg  and  God  knew 
what  she  should  have  to  wear  while  here,  and  that  Andrei  had 
greatly  changed,  and  that  Kitty  Oduintsova  had  married  an 
old  man,  and  that  she  had  a  husband  for  Marie  pour  tout  de 
*«i,  but  that  they  would  talk  about  that  afterwards. 

^fhe  Princess  Mariya  stood  looking  silently  at  her  brother, 
and  her  lovely  eyes  beamed  with  affection  and  melancholy.  It 
was  evident  that  she  was  now  following  her  own  course  of 
thought,  quite  independent  of  her  sister-in-law *s  prattle.  Eight 
in  the  midst  of  a  description  of  the  last  fete  at  Petersburg,  she 
turned  to  her  brother, — 

"  And  are  you  really  going  to  the  war,  Andre,"  she  asked 
^th  a  sigh.  Lise  also  sighed.  "  Yes,  and  I  must  be  off  by  to- 
morrow," replied  her  brother. 

"He  leaves  me,  and  God  knows  why,  when  he  might  have 
been  promoted."  t 

The  Princess  Mariya  paid  no  attention  to  this  remark,  but 

•  "  Kt  moi,  qiti  ne  me  doutais  pas.'* 

t  "//  m*ahandonne  icU  et  Dieu  sait  pourquoi,  quand  il  aurait  pu  avoir  de 

VOL.  1.  — 8. 


114  War  and  peace. 

following  the  thread  of  her  thoughts,  gave  her  sister-in-law  a 
sig^iiicant  glance  from  her  affectionate  eyes. 

"  You  are  sure  of  it." 

The  young  wife's  face  changed.     She  sighed  again. 

"  Certainly  I  am,"  said  she.     "  Ah,  it  is  terrible." 

Her  lip  went  down.  She  brought  her  face  near  to  the  young 
princess's,  and  again  unexpectedly  burst  into  tears. 

"She  needs  to  rest/'  said  Prince  Andrei,  scowling,  "Don't 
you  Lisa  ?  Take  lier  to  her  room  and  I  will  go  to  my  bat- 
yushka.     How  is  he  ?     Just  the  same  as  ever  ?  " 

*'  Just  the  same  ;  but  perhaps  your  eyes  will  see  some  change 
in  him,"  replied  the  princess,  cheerfully. 

*•  The  same  regular  hours,  the  same  promenades  in  the  gar- 
den, the  lathe  ?"  asked  Prince  Andrei,  with  a  barely  percepti- 
ble smile,  which  proved  that  notwithstanding  all  his  love  and 
reverence  for  his  father,  he  was  not  blind  to  his  weaknesses. 

"  Yes,  just  the  same  hours,  and  the  lathe,  and  the  mathemat- 
ics, and  my  geometry  lessons,"  replied  the  princess  merrily,  as 
though  her  geometry  lessons  were  among  the  most  delightful 
reminiscences  of  her  life. 

When  the  twenty  minutes  which  remained  for  the  prince's 
nap  were  over,  Tikhon  came  to  summon  the  young  man  to  see 
his  father.  The  old  man  allowed  a  variation  in  his  mode  of 
life  in  honor  of  his  son ;  he  commanded  to  have  him  come  to 
him  in  his  own  room,  while  he  was  dressing,  before  dinner. 
The  prince  dressed  in  the  old-time  costiune  of  a  kaftan  and 
powdered  wig.  "When  Prince  Andrei  —  not  with  the  peevish 
face  and  manners  which  he  assumed  in  society,  but  with  a 
lively  expression,  such  as  he  had  when  he  was  talking  with 
Pierre  —  went  into  his  father's  room,  the  old  man  was  at  his 
toilet,  sitting  in  a  wide  morocco-upholstered  arm-chair  in  a 
wrapper,  while  Tikhon  was  putting  the  last  touches  to  his 
head. 

"  Ah,  my  soldier !  so  you  are  going  to  conquer  Bonaparte  ?  *' 
cried  the  old  prince,  and  he  shook  his  powdered  head,  so  far 
as  he  was  allowed  by  the  pig  tail  whicJi  Tikhon  was  busy  plait- 
ing. "  You  do  well  to  go  against  him  ;  otherwise,  he  would 
soon  be  calling  us  his  subjects  !  Are  you  well  ? "  and  he 
offered  his  son  his  cheek. 

The  old  man  awoke  from  his  noon  nap  in  an  excellent  frame 
of  mind  (he  was  accustomed  to  say  that  a  nap  after  dinner  was 
silver,  but  one  before  dinner  was  ^^oldcn).  He  squinted  cheerily 
at  his  sop  from  under  his  thick,  beetling  brows.  Prince  Andrei 
went  and  kissed  his  father  on  the  spot  designated.     He  made 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  115 

no  reply  to  his  father's  favorite  topic  of  conversation  and  his 
sarcasms  ou  the  military  men  of  the  present  time  and  especially 
on  Napoleon. 

"Yes,  I  have  come  to  you,  batyushka,  and  with  my  wife, 
who  soon  expects  to  be  a  mother,"  said  Prince  Andrei,  watch- 
ing with  eager  and  reverent  eyes  all  the  play  of  his  father's 
features.     '*'  How  is  your  health  ?  " 

"  Only  fools  and  rakes  ever  need  to  be  unwell,  my  boy,  aud 
you  know  me :  busy  from  morning  till  night,  and  tempenite, 
and  of  course  I'm  well." 

"  Thank  God  for  that,"  said  the  son,  smiling. 

"  God  has  nothing  to  do  with  it.  Well,"  continued  the  old 
man,  returning  to  his  favorite  hobby,  "  tell  us  how  the  Ger- 
mans and  Bonaparte  have  taught  us  to  Hght,  according  to  this 
new  science  of  yours,  that  you  call  '  strategy  '  ?  " 

Prince  Andrei  smiled. 

"Let  me  have  time  to  collect  my  wits,  batyushka,"  said  he, 
and  his  expression  showed  that  his  father's  foibles  did  not  pre- 
vent him  from  reverencing  and  loving  him.  "  Why,  you  see  I 
have  not  even  been  to  my  room  yet." 

"  Nonsense,  nonsense,"  cried  the  old  man,  pulling  at  his  little 
pigtail  to  assure  himself  that  it  was  firmly  plaited,  and  grasping 
his  son  by  the  arm.  *•  The  quarters  for  your  wife  are  all  ready. 
The  Princess  Mariya  will  take  her  there  aud  show  tliem  to  her 
and  they  will  chatter  their  three  basketsful!  that's  their 
woman's  way.  I'm  glad  to  have  her  here.  Sit  down  and  talk. 
I  understand  Michelson's  army  and  Tolstoi's,  too.  It's  a 
simultaneous  descent.  But  what's  the  Southern  army  going 
to  do  ?  Prussia  remains  neutral,  I  know  that ;  but  how  about 
Austria  ?  "  he  asked,  as  he  got  up  from  his  chair  and  began  to 
walk  up  and  down  the  room,  with  Tikhon  running  after  him  to 
give  him  the  various  parts  of  his  attire.  "  What's  Sweden 
going  to  do  ?     How  will  they  get  across  Pomerania  ?  " 

Prince  Andrei,  perceiving  the  urgency  of  his  father's  infiuir- 
ies,  began,  at  first  unwillingly,  but  gradually  warming  up  more 
and  more,  to  explain  the  plan  of  operations  determined  upon 
for  the  campaign.  As  he  spoke,  he  involuntarily,  from  very 
force  of  habit,  kept  dropping  from  Kussian  into  French.  He 
explained  how  an  army  of  ninety  thousand  was  to  threaten 
Prussia  and  force  her  to  abandon  her  neutrality  and  take  i)art 
in  the  war;  how  a  portion  of  this  army  was  to  go  to  Stralsund 
and  unite  with  the  Swedish  forces;  how  two  hundred  and 
twenty  thousand  Austrians,  with  a  hundred  thousand  Rus- 
sians, were  to  engage  in  active  operations  in  Italy  and  on  the 


116  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

Rhine ;  and  how  fifty  thousand  Russians  and  fifty  thousand 
English  were  to  disembark  at  Naples,  and  how  this  army,  with 
a  total  of  five  hundred  thousand  men,  was  to  make  an  attack 
simultaneously  from  different  sides  upon  the  French. 

The  old  prince  did  not  manifest  the  least  interest  in  the 
description,.any  more  than  if  he  had  not  heard  it,  and  continued 
to  dress  hiriiself  as  he  walked  mp  and  down ;  though  three 
times  he  unexpectedly  interrupted  him.  Once  he  stopped  hiin 
by  crying,  "  The  white  one  !  the  white  one ! " 

That  meant  that  Tikhon  had  not  given  him  the  waistcoat 
that  he  wished.  The  second  time  he  stopped  and  asked,  "  And 
is  the  baby  expected  soon  ?  "  and  reproachfully  shaking  his 
head,  said,  "  That's  too  bad,  —  go  on,  go  on  ! " 

The  third  time,  when  Prince  Andrei  had  finished  his  descrip- 
tion, the  old  man  sang  in  a  high  falsetto,  with  the  cracked  voice 
of  age, — 

** Malbrouf/  8*en  va-t-en  guerre. 
Dieii  Bait  quand  reviendra,"  * 

The  son  merely  smiled. 

"  I  don't  say  that  I  approve  of  this  plan,"  said  he,  "  I  am 
only  telling  you  what  it  is.  Napoleon,  of  course,  has  his  plan, 
which  is  probably  as  good  as  ours." 

"  Well,  you  haven't  told  me  anything  that  is  in  the  least 
new,"  and  the  old  man  thoughtfully  continued  to  hum  the  re- 
frain :  "  Dieu  suit  quand  il  reviendraJ^      "  Go  into  the  dining 


room." 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

At  the  appointed  hour,  the  prince,  powdered  and  shai^edv' 
went  to  the  dining-room,  where  his  daughter-in-law,  the  Prin-' 
cess  Maviya,  and  Mile.  Bourienne  and  the  architect  were  wait- 
ing for  him.  The  latter  was  allowed  at  the  table  through  an 
old -caprice  of  the  prince,  though  his  insignificance  of  position 
would  naturally  have  precluded  him  from  being  shown  such 
an  honor.  The  prince,  who  was  a  great  stickler  for  differences 
of  rank,  and  rarely  admitted  to  his  table  even  the  important 
functionaries  of  the  province,  suddenly  selected  Mikhail  Ivan- 
ovitch  (who  blew  his  nose  in  the  corner  on  a  checked  hand- 
kerchief) as  a  living  example  of  the  theory  that  all  men  were 
equal,  and  more  than  once  assured  his  daughter  that  the  archi- 

*  MarlboroagU  is  going  to  the  war.    God  knows  when  he'U  come  back 
again. 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  117 

tect  was  as  good  as  they  were.  At  the  table  the  prince  was 
veiy  apt  to  address  his  conversation  mainly  to  the  speechless 
Mikhail  Ivanovitch. 

In  the  dining-room,  tremendously  lofty,  like  all  the  rest  of 
the  rooms  in  the  mansion,  the  prince's  butlers  and  serving- 
men,  each  standing  behind  a  chair,  were  waiting  his  coming. 
The  major-domo,  with  a  napkin  over  his  arm,  glanced  to  &ve 
that  the  table  was  properly  set,  beckoned  to  the  waiters,  and 
constantly  let  his  troubled  eyes  wander  from  the  clock  to  the 
door  where  the  prince  was  expected  to  enter. 

Prince  Andrei  was  looking  at  a  huge  gilded  frame,  which  lie 
had  never  before  seen,  containing  a  representation  of  the  gene;i- 
lo^cal  tree  of  the  Bolkonskys,  which  hung  opposite  a  similai- 
frame  with  a  badly  executed  painting,  evidently  pei-petrated 
by  some  domestic  artist,  and  meant  to  be  a  portrait  of  a 
reigning  prince,  in  a  crown,  showing  that  he  was  descended  from 
Kurik,  and  was  the  originator  of  the  house  of  Holkonsky. 
Prince  Andrei  was  studying  this  genealogical  tree,  and  shaking 
his  head  and  laiighing,  as  though  the  portrait  struck  him  as 
something  ludicrous. 

"How  like  him  this  all  is  !"  he  was  saying  to  the  Princess 
Mariya^  as  she  came  up  to  him. 

The  Princess  Mariya  looked  at  her  brother  in  amazement. 
She  could  not  understand  what  he  could  tind  to  amuse  him. 
All  that  her  father  did  inspired  in  her  a  reverence  that 
removed  it  beyond  criticism. 

"  Every  man  has  his  Achilles'  heel,"  continued  Prince  An- 
drei. "With  his  tremendous  intellect,  the  idea  of  going  into 
this  absurdity  —  danner  dans  ee  ridicule  /  " 

The  Princess  Mariya  could  not  approve  of  this  audacious 
judgment  of  her  brother's,  and  was  just  about  to  reprove  him, 
when  the  steps  which  they  were  awaiting  were  heard  coming 
from  the  cabinet.  The  prince  came  in  briskly,  even  gayly,  as 
was  his  universal  custom,  as  though  he  meant  by  his  lively  ways 
to  make  a  contrast  with  the  stern  routine  of  the  house. 

Just  at  tlie  instant  that  the  great  clock  struck  two,  and  was 
answered  by  the  feebler  tone  of  another  in  the  reception-room, 
the  prince  made  his  appearance.  He  paused.  From  under  his 
thick,  overhanging  brows,  his  keen,  flashing,  stern  eyes  sur- 
veyed all  who  were  present,  and  then  rested  on  his  son's 
young  wife.  The  young  princess  instantly  experienced  that 
feeling  of  fear  and  reverence  which  this  old  man  inspired  in 
all  those  around  him,  —  a  feeling  akin  to  that  experienced 
by  courtiers  at  the  coming  of  the  Tsar. 


118  WAR   ASD  PEACE. 

He  smoothed  the  princess's  head,  iind  then,  with  a  clumsy 
motion,  patted  her  on  the  back  of  the  neck. 

"  I  am  glad  to  see  you,  glad  to  see  you,"  said  he ;  and,  after 
looking  into  her  face  steadily  once  more,  he  turned  away  and 
sat  down  in  his  place. 

"  Sit  down,  sit  down  !  Mikhail  Ivanovitch,  sit  down." 

He  assigned  his  daughter-in-law  the  place  next  him:  the 
waiter  pushed  the  chair  up  for  her.  "Ho!  ho!"  said  the 
old  man,  looking  at  her  critically,  "your  time  is  coming! 
too  barl ! " 

He  smiled  dryly,  coldly,  disagreeably,  with  his  lips  alone,  as 
usual,  and  not  with  his  eyes.  "  You  must  walk,  walk,  as  much 
as  possible ;  as  much  as  possible,  "  said  he. 

The  little  princess  did  not  hear,  and  did  not  wish  to  hear 
his  words.  She  said  nothing,  and  seemed  dispirited.  The 
prince  asked  after  her  father,  and  she  replied  and  smiled.  He 
asked  about  common  acquaintances :  the  princess  grew  more 
animated,  and  began  to  deliver  messages,  and  tell  the  prince 
the  gossip  of  the  town.  "  The  Countess  Apraksina,  poor 
woman,  has  lost  her  husband,  and  quite  cried  Tier  eyes  out,"  * 
said  she,  growing  still  more  lively. 

The  livelier  she  became,  the  more  sternly  the  prince  looked 
at  her,  and  suddenly,  as  though  he  had  studied  her  enough,  and 
had  formed  a  sufficiently  clear  idea  of  her  mental  calibre, 
he  turned  abruptly  away  and  began  to  talk  with  Mikhail 
Ivanovitch. 

"Well,  now,  Mikhaila  Ivanovitch,  it  is  going  to  go  hard  with 
our  Bonaparte.  As  Prince  Andrei  has  been  telling  me  (he 
always  spoke  of  his  son  in  the  third  person),  great  forces  are 
collecting  against  him.  But  then  you  and  I  have  always 
considered  him  to  be  a  wind-bag." 

Mikhail  Ivanovitch  really  did  not  know  when  he  and  the 
prince  had  ever  said  any  such  things  about  Bonaparte,  but 
perceiving  that  this  was  necessary  as  a  preliminary  for  the 
I)rince's  favorite  subject  of  conversation,  looked  in  surprise 
at  the  young  prince,  and  wondered  what  would  be  the  outcome 
of  it. 

"He  is  great  at  tactics,"  said  the  old  prince  to  his  son,  re- 
ferring to  the  architect,  and  again  the  conversation  turned  on 
the  war,  on  Bonaparte,  and  the  generals  of  the  present  day 
and  the  great  men  of  the  reign.  The  old  prince,  it  seemed, 
was  persuaded  in  his  own  mind  that  all  the  men  at  the  head 

♦  **  La  Comtesse  ApraksiiiCt  lapauvrCf  a  perdu  son  mari  et  elle  apleur€les 
larmes  de  sea  yeux/* 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  119 

of  affairs  at  the  present  day  were  mere  schoolboys,  who  did 
not  know  even  the  a  b  c's  of  war  and  civil  administration, 
and  that  Bonaparte  was  an  insignificant  Frenchman,  who  had 
been  successful  simply  from  the  fact  that  there  were  no  Po- 
temkins  or  Suvarofs  to  meet  him  ;  but  he  was  persuaded,  also, 
that  no  political  complications,  of  any  account,  existed  in 
Europe;  that  the  war  did  not  amount  to  anything,  but  was  a 
sort  of  puppet-show,  at  which  the  men  of  the  present  day  were 
playing,  while  pretending  to  do  something  great. 

Prince  Andrei  took  his  father's  sarcasms  at  the  "new  men" 
in  good  part,  and  with  apparent  pleasure  led  him  on,  and  heard 
what  he  had  to  say. 

*'  The  past  always  seems  better  than  the  present,"  said  the 
young  man ;  "  yet  didn't  that  same  Suvarof  fall  into  the  trap 
which  Moreau  laid  for  him, — fell  in,  and  hadn't  the  wit  to 
get  himself  out  of  it  ?  " 

*'Who  told  you  that?  who  told  you?"  cried  the  prince. 
"  Suvarof ! "  and  he  flung  away  his  plate,  which  Tikhon  was 
quick  enough  to  catch.  "  Suvarof !  —  Consider,  Prince  Andrei ! 
Friedrich  and  Suvarof  were  a  pair ;  —  Moreau  !  Moreau  would 
have  been  taken  prisoner  if  Suvarofs  hands  had  been  free ; 
but  he  had  on  his  hands  a  Hofskriegswurstschnapsrath,*  The 
devil  himself  could  not  have  done  anything.  Now  if  you  go 
on  you  will  find  out  what  these  Hofskriegswurstschnapsraths 
are  like.  Suvarof  was  no  match  for  them :  what  chance  do 
you  suppose  Mikhail  Kutuzof  will  have  ?  No,  my  dear  young 
friend,"  he  went  on  to  say ;  "  there's  no  chance  for  you  and 
your  generals  against  Bonaparte ;  you  must  needs  take  French- 
men, so  that  birds  of  a  feather  may  fight  together.  You  have 
sent  the  German  Pahlen,  to  New  York,  to  America,  after  the 
Frenchman  Moreau,"  said  he,  referring  to  the  overtures  that 
had  been  made  that  same  year  to  Moreau  to  enter  the  Russian 
service.  "It's  marvellous!  Were  the  Potemkins,  Suvarofs, 
Orlofs,  Germans,  pray  ?  No,  brother,  either  all  of  you  have 
lost  your  wits,  or  I  have  gone  into  my  second  childhood. 
God  give  you  good  luck !  but  we  shall  see.  Bonaparte  a  great 
general,  on  their  side !  hm ! " 

"  I  don't  say,  at  all,  that  all  our  arrangements  are  wise,"  re- 
turned Prince  Andrei,  "  only  I  can't  understand  how  you  have 
such  a  low  opinion  of  Bonaparte.  Laugh  as  much  as  you 
please,  but  Bonaparte  is,  nevertheless,  a  great  general." 

"Mikhaila  Ivanovitch,"  cried  the  old  prince  to  the  architect, 
who  was  giving  his  attention  to  the  roast,  and  devoutly  hoping 

*  Conrt^War-Sausage-Sclmaps-Goancil. 


120  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

that  he  was  quite  forgotten,  '<  I  have  told  you,  have  I  not,  that 
Bonaparte  was  a  great  tactician  ?     And  he  says  so,  too." 

"How,  your  Illustriousness  ?  "   replied  the  architect. 

The  prince  again  laughed  his  chilling  laugh. 

"  Bonaparte  was  bom  with  a  silver  spoon  in  his  mouth.*  His 
soldiers  are  excellent.  And  then,  again,  he  had  the  good  luck 
to  fight  with  the  Germans  first.  Only  a  lazy  man  would  fail 
to  whip  the  Germans.  Ever  since  the  world  began,  the  Ger- 
mans nave  always  been  whipped.  And  they  have  never 
whipped  any  one.  Oh,  yes,  each  other !  He  made  his  repu- 
tation by  fighting  them." 

And  the  prince  began  to  expatiate  on  all  the  blunders  that 
Napoleon,  in  his  opinion,  had  made  in  all  his  wars,  and  even 
in  his  act  of  administration.  His  son  did  not  dispute  what  he 
said,  but  it  was  evident  that  whatever  arguments  were  em- 
ployed against  him,  he  was  just  as  little  inclined  to  alter  his 
opinion  as  the  old  prince  himself.  Prince  Andrei  listened, 
refraining  from  engaging  in  any  discussion,  and  only  smiling 
as  he  involuntarily  wondered  how  it  was  possible  for  this  old 
man,  who  had  lived  for  so  many  years  like  a  hermit  in  the  coun- 
try, to  know  so  thoroughly  and  accurately  all  the  military  and 
political  occurrences  that  had  taken  place  in  Europe  during  the 
last  years,  and  was  able  to  form  such  an  opinion  of  them. 

"  You  think,  do  you,  that  I  am  too  old  to  understand  the 
present  state  of  alfairs  ?  Well,  this  is  all  there  is  of  it :  1 
can't  sleep  o'nights.  Now,  wherein  is  this  general  of  yours  so 
great  ?     Where  has  he  ever  shown  it  ?  " 

"It  would  take  too  long  to  tell,"  replied  the  son. 

"  Well,  then,  go  off  to  your  Bonaparte !  Mile.  Bourienne, 
here  is  another  admirer  of  your  clodhopper  of  an  emperor,"  f 
he  cried,  in  excellent  French. 

"  You  know  that  I  am  not  a  Bonapartist,  prince." 

"  Dieu  sait  quand  il  reviendra,^^  hummed  the  prince,  in  his 
falsetto,  and  with  a  smile  that  was  still  more  falsetto,  he  got 
up  and  left  the  table. 

The  little  princess,  during  the  whole  time  of  the  discussion 
and  the  rest  of  the  meal,  sat  in  silence,  looking  in  alarm,  now 
at  her  husband's  father,  now  at  the  Princess  Mariya.  After 
they  left  the  table,  she  took  her  sister-in-law's  arm  and  drew 
her  into  the  next  room. 

"  How  bright  your  father  is,"  said  she,  "  that's  probably  the 
reason  that  he  makes  me  afraid  of  him." 

"  Ah,  he  is  so  good ! "  exclaimed  the  princess. 

♦  Ru88  :  "  Was  bom  in  his  shirt," 

t  "  Voila  encore  un  admirateur  de  voire  goujat  d'empereur,'* 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  121 


CHAPTER  XXVL 

The  next  evening,  Prince  Andrei  was  about  to  take  his  de- 
parture. The  old  prince,  not  making  any  change  in  his  rou- 
tine, had  gone  to  his  room  immediately  after  dinner.  The 
young  wife  was  with  the  Princess  Mariya.  Prince  Andrei, 
having  put  on  a  travelling-coat  without  epaulets,  was  engaged 
in  his  room,  with  his  valet,  in  packing  up.  He  himself  had 
l)ersonally  looked  after  the  carriage,  and  the  arrangement  of  his 
luggage,  and  ordered  the  horses  to  be  put  in.  In  the  chamber 
remained  only  those  things  which  Prince  Andrei  always  took 
^^th  him :  his  dressing-case,  a  huge  silver  bottle-holder,  two 
turkish  pistols,  and  a  sabre  which  his  father  had  captured  at 
Ochakof  and  presented  to  him.  All  these  appurtenances  had 
been  put  in  the  most  perfect  order ;  all  were  bright  and  clean, 
in  woolen  bags,  carefully  strapped. 

If  men  are  ever  inclined  to  think  about  their  actions,  the 
moment  when  they  are  about  to  go  away  and  enter  upon  some 
new  course  of  life,  is  certain  to  induce  a  serious  frame  of  mind. 
Generally,  at  such  moments,  the  past  comes  up  for  review  and 
plans  are  made  for  the  future. 

Prince  Andrei's  face  was  very  thoughtful  and  tender.  With 
hb  hands  behind  his  back,  ha  was  walking  briskly,  from 
comer  to  comer,  up  and  down  the  room,  with  his  eyes 
fixed  and  occasionally  shaking  his  head.  Was  it  terrible 
for  him  to  be  going  to  the  war,  or  was  he  a  little  sad- 
dened at  the  thought  of  leaving  his  wife  ?  Perhaps  there 
was  a  trifle  of  each  feeling.  However,  hearing  steps  in 
the  entry,  and  evidently  not  wishing  to  be  seen  in  any  such 
state,  he  hurriedly  dropped  his  hands  and  paused  by  the  table, 
as  though  engaged  in  fastening  the  cover  of  his  dressing-case, 
and  his  face  became  as  usual,  serene  and  impenetrable.  The 
steps  that  he  heard  were  those  of  the  Princess  Mariya. 

"I  was  told  that  you  had  ordered  the  horses  put  in,"  said 
she,  panting  (she  had  evidently  been  running),  "  and  I  did  so 
want  to  have  a  little  talk  with  you,  all  alone.  God  knows  how 
long  it  will  be  before  we  see  each  other  again.  You  are  not 
angry  with  me  for  coming  ?  You  have  changed  very  much, 
Andryusha,"  she  added,  as  though  in  explanation  of  such  a 
question. 

She  smiled  as  she  called  him  by  the  pet  diminutive,  "  Andry- 
nsha."    Evidently,  it  was  strange  for  her  to  think  that  this 


122  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

stern,  handsome  man  was  the  same  Andryusha,  the  slender, 
frolicsome  lad  who  had  been  the  playmate  of  her^^hildhood. 

"  Where  is  Lise,"  he  asked,  merely  replying  to  her  question 
with  a  smile. 

"  She  was  so  tired  that  she  fell  asleep  on  the  sofa  in  my  room ! 
Oh,  Andre,  what  a  treasure  of  a  wife,  you  have,"  she  said,  as 
she  sat  down  on  the  sofa,  facing  her  brother.  "  She  is  a  perfect 
child,  such  a  sweet,  merry-hearted  child.  I  have  learned  to 
love  her  dearly  ! " 

Prince  Andrei  made  no  reply,  but  the  princess  noticed  the 
ironical  and  scornful  expression  which  her  words  called  forth 
on  his  face. 

"  But  you  must  be  indulgent  to  her  little  weaknesses ;  who 
is  there  that  is  without  them,  Andrd  ?  You  must  not  forget  that 
she  was  educated  and  brought  up  in  society.  And  besides,  her 
position  is  now  not  all  roses.  We  ought  always  to  put  oui"sel ves 
in  the  place  of  another.  To  understand  is  to  forgive.*  Just 
think  how  hard  it  is  on  the  poor  little  woman,  after  the  gay  life 
to  which  she  is  accustomed,  to  be  parted  from  her  husband,  and 
to  be  left  alone  in  the  country,  and  in  her  condition !  It  is  very 
hard ! "  . 

Prince  Andrei  smiled  and  looked  at  his  sister,  as  we 
smile  when  we  look  at  people  whose  motives  are  perfectly 
transparent  to  us. 

"  You  live  in  the  country  and  don't  find  this  life  so  horrible, 
do  you  ?  " 

"  I  ?  —  but  that's  another  thing.  Why  should  you  speak 
about  me  ?  I  have  no  desire  for  any  other  life,  because  I  have 
never  known  any  other  life.  But  you  think,  Andrd,  what 
it  is  for  a  healtliy  young  woman  to  be  buried  for  the  best 
years  of  her  life  in  the  country,  alone,  too,  —  for  papenka  is 
always  busy,  and  I, — you  know  what  poor  company  I  lun 
for  a  woman  who  has  been  accustomed  to  the  best  society. 
There's  only  Mile.  Bourienne." 

"Your  Bourienne  does  not  please  me  very  much,"  said 
Prince  Andrei. 

"  Oh  how  can  you  say  so  ?  She  is  very  kind  and  good,  and, 
what  is  more,  is  greatly  to  be  pitied.  She  has  no  one,  no  one 
at  all.  To  tell  you  the  truth,  she  is  not  at  all  necessary,  but 
if  anything  she's  in  my  way.  You  know  that  I  have  always 
been  somewhat  of  a  misanthrope,  and  now  more  than  ever  I 
love  to  be  alone.  Mon  pere  is  very  fond  of  her.  She  and 
Mikhail  Ivanitch  are  two  people  for  —  to  whom  he  is  always 

•  "  Tout  c<miprendre,  c'est  tout  pardonner." 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  123 

polite  and  kind,  because  both  of  them  are  under  oblii^^ttions 
to  him ;  as  8terne  says  '  We  do  not  love  men  so  much  lor  the 
good  that  they  do  us,  as  for  the  good  that  we  do  them.'  Mon 
p^re  took  her  in  as  an  orphan  from  the  street,  and  she  is  very 
good,  and  mon  pere  loves  her  way  of  reading.  She  always 
reads  aloud  to  him  in  the  evening.     She  reads  beautifully.'' 

"  Now  tell  the  truth,  Marie ;  I  am  afraid  my  father's  temper 
must  he  very  trying  to  you  sometimes,  —  isn't  it  so  ?  "  suddenly 
ilciiianded  Trince  Andrei.  The  Princess  Mariya  was  at  first 
dumhfounded,  then  terrified,  at  this  question. 

"  To  me  —  me  —  trying  ?  "  she  stammered. 

"  He  has  always  been  harsh,  but  now  he  has  become  desper- 
ately trying,  I  should  think,"  said  Prince  Andrei,  speaking 
lightly  of  his  father,  apparently,  for  the  sake  of  perplexing  or 
testing  his  sister. 

"You're  good  to  every  one,  Andre,  but  you  have  such  pride 
of  intellect,"  said  the  princess,  following  the  trend  of  her  own 
thoughts  rather  than  the  course  of  the  conversation.  "  And 
that  is  a  great  sin.  Have  we  any  right  to  judge  our  father  ? 
And  even  if  we  had,  what  other  feeling  beside  veneration 
could  such  a  man  as  moii  pere  insj)ire  ?  And  I  am  so  hai)py 
and  content  to  live  with  him.  I  only  wish  that  all  were  as 
happy  as  I  am." 

Her  brother  shook  his  head  incredulously. 

** There  is  only  one  thing  that  is  hard  for  me  —  I  will  tell 
you  the  truth  about  it,  Andre  —  it  is  father's  ways  of  thinking 
of  religious  things.  I  cannot  understand  how  a  man  with 
such  a  tremendous  intellect  can  fail  to  see  what  is  as  clear  as 
day,  and  can  go  so  far  astray.  This  is  the  one  thing  that 
makes  me  unhappy.  But  even  in  this  I  have  noticed  lately  a 
shade  of  improvement.  Lately  his  sarcasms  have  not  been 
({uite  so  pronounced,  and  there  is  a  monk  whom  he  allowed  to 
come  in  and  have  a  long  talk  with  him." 

"  Well,  my  dear,  I  am  afraid  that  you  and  the  monk  wasted 
your  powder,'^  said  Prince  Andrei,  in  a  jesting  but  affectionate 
▼ay. 

"Ah!  man  ami!  All  I  can  do  is  to  pray  to  God  and  hope 
that  he  will  hear  me.  Andrd,"  said  she  timidly,  after  a  mo- 
ment's silence,  "  I  have  one  great  favor  to  ask  of  you." 

"  What  is  that,  my  dear  ?  " 

"Promise  me  that  you  will  not  refuse  me.  It  won't  be 
any  trouble  to  you  at  all,  and  nothing  unworthy  of  you  in 
doing  it;  but  it  will  be  a  great  comfort  to  me.  Promise  me, 
Andryusha,"  said  she,  thrusting  her  hand  into  her  reticule 


124  WAR  AND  PEACE, 

and  holding  something  in  it  but  not  yet  showing  it,  as  though 
what  she  held  constituted  the  object  of  her  request,  and  she 
were  unwilling  to  take  this  soinethinfj  from  the  reticule,  until 
she  were  assured  of  his  promise  to  do  what  she  desired.  She 
looked  at  her  brother  with  a  timid,  beseeching  glance. 

"  Even  if  it  required  great  trouble,  I  would,"  replied  Prince 
Andrei,  evidently  foreseeing  what  the  request  ^ifas. 

"  Think  whatever  you  please,  —  I  know  that  you  are  exactly- 
like  vwn  pere^  —  think  whatever  3'ou  i»Ioase,  but  do  this  for 
my  sake.  Please  do !  My  father's  fatlier,  our  grandfather, 
wore  it  in  all  his  battles."  Not  even  now  did  she  take  from 
the  reticule  what  she  held  in  her  hand.  '^  So,  will  you  prom- 
ise me  ?  "  , 

"  But  what  is  it  ?  " 

"Andre,  I  give  you  this  little  picture  with  my  blessing,  and 
you  must  promise  me  that  you  will  never  take  it  off.  Will 
you  promise  ?  "  " 

"  If  it  does  not  weigh  two  poods  *  and  won't  break  my  neck, 
I  will  do  it  if  it  will  give  you  any  pleasure,"  but  at  that  in- 
stant, noticing  the  pained  expression  which  passed  over  his 
sister's  face  at  this  jest,  he  regretted  it.  "With  pleasure, 
really  with  pleasure,  my  dear,"  he  added. 

"  He  will  save  and  pardon  you  in  spite  of  your  hardness  of 
heart ;  he  will  bring  you  to  Himself,  because  in  Him  alone  is 
truth  and  peace,"  she  said,  in  a  voice  trembling  with  emotion, 
and  with  a  gesture  of  solemnity  held  up  before  her  brother 
an  ancient  oval  medallion  of  the  Saviour,  with  a  black  face  in 
a  silver  frame,  attached  to  a  silver  chain  of  delicate  workman- 
ship. 

She  made  the  sign  of  the  cross,  kissed  the  medallion,  and 
held  it  out  to  Andrei. 

"Please,  Andr^,  for  my  sake."  Her  large  eyes  were  kin- 
dled by  the  rays  of  a  soft  and  kindly  light  which  transfigured 
her  thin,  sic^kly  face  and  made  it  beautiful.  Her  brother  was 
about  to  take  the  medallion,  but  she  stopped  him.  He  under- 
stood what  she  meant,  and  crossed  himself  and  kissed  the 
image.  His  face  was  both  tender  (for  he  was  touched)  and, 
at  the  same  time,  ironical. 

"  Thanks,  my  dear." 

She  kissed  him  on  the  brow  and  again  sat  down  on  the  sofa. 
Both  were  silent. 

"  As  I  was  saying  to  you,  Andr^,  be  kind  and  magnanimous 
as  you  always  used  to  be.     Don't  judge  Lise  harshly,"  she 

*  A  pood  is  tlurty-«ix  pounds  avoirdupda. 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  125 

began  after  a  little.  "  She  is  so  sweet,  so  good !  and  her  posi- 
tion is  Yeiy  hard  just  now." 

"Why,  Masha,  I  have  not  said  that  I  found  any  fault  with 
my  wife,  or  been  vexed  with  her.  Why  do  you  say  such 
things  to  me  ?  " 

The  Princess  Mariya  flushed^  and  she  was  silent  as  though 
she  felt  guilty. 

"I  have  not  said  anything  to  you,  but  some  one  has  been 
talking  to  you.     And  I  am  sorry  for  that." 

The  red  patches  flamed  still  more  noticeably  on  the  l*rin- 
cess  Mariya's  forehead,  neck,  and  cheeks.  She  tried  to  say 
something,  but  speech  failed  her.  Her  brother  had  guessed 
right;  his  little  wife  after  diuner  had  wept,  and  confessed  her 
forebodings  about  the  birth  of  her  baby,  and  how  she  dreaded 
it,  and  poured  out  her  complaints  against  her  father-in-law 
and  her  husband.     And  after  she  had  cried,  she  fell  asleep. 

Prince  Andrei  was  sorry  for  his  sister. 

"I  wish  you  to  know  this,  Masha,  that  I  find  no  fault  with 
my  wife,  I  never  have  found  fault  with  her  and  never  shall, 
and  there  is  nothing  for  which  I  can  reproach  myself;  and 
this  shall  always  be  so,  no  matter  in  what  circumstances  I 
find  myself.  But  if  you  wish  to  know  the  truth,  if  you  wish 
to  know  whether  I  am  happy,  I  tell  you  No.  Is  she  happy  ? 
Xo !  Why  is  it  ?  I  don't  know." 

As  he  said  this,  he  got  up,  went  over  to  his  sister,  and  bend- 
ing down,  kissed  her  on  the  forehead.  His  handsome  eyes 
showed  an  unwonted  gleam  of  sentiment  and  kindliness,  though 
he  looked  not  at  his  sister,  but  over  her  head  at  the  dark 
opening  of  the  door. 

"  Let  us  go  to  her,  it  is  time  to  say  good-by.  Or,  rather, 
yon  go  ahead  and  wake  her,  and  I  will  follow  you.  Petrush- 
ka,"  he  cried  to  the  valet,  "  Come  here ;  pick  up  those  things. 
This  goes  under  the  seat ;  this,  at  the  right." 

The  Princess  Mariya  got  up  and  directed  her  steps  toward 
the  door,  then  she  paused, — 

"Andre,"  said  she,  in  French,  "if  you  had  faith,  you  would 
have  implored  God  to  give  you  the  love  which  you  do  not  feel, 
and  your  prayer  would  have  boon  heard."  * 

"Yes,  perhaps  so,"  said  Prince  Andrei.  "  Go  on,  Masha,  I  will 
follow  immediatelv." 

On  the  way  to  his  sister's  room,  in  the  gallery  which  con- 
nected one  part  of  the  house  with  the  other,  Prince  Andrei  met 

•  "Andr€,9i  v<m8  avn  la  foU  vous  vovs  seriez  odress^  a  Diev^  pour  gu'iV 
ViWM  donne  Pam<mr,  que  vovs  ne  sentez  pas^  et  votrepriere  aurait  €tiexauc4t." 


126  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

the  sweetly  smiling  Mile.  Bourienne ;  it  was  the  third  time 
that  she  had  crossed  his  path  that  day  in  the  corridor,  and 
with  the  same  enthusiastic  and  naive  smile. 

"Ah,  I  thought  you  were  in  your  own  room,"  said  she, 
blushing  a  little,  and  di*opping  her  eyes. 

Prince  Andrei  looked  at  her  sternly.  His  face  suddenly 
grew  wrathful.  He  gave  her  no  answer,  but  looked  at  her  with 
such  a  scornful  expression  that  the  little  Frenchwoman  flushed 
scarlet  and  turned  away  without  another  word. 

When  he  reached  his  sister's  room,  the  princess,  his  wife, 
was  already  awake,  and  her  blithe  voice  was  heard  through  tlie 
open  door.  She  was  chattering  as  fast  as  her  tongue  would 
let  her,  as  though  she  were  anxious  to  make  up  for  lost  time, 
after  long  repression  :  —  "  No,  Marie,  but  just  imagine  the  old 
Countess  Zubova,  with  her  false  curls  and  a  mouth  full  of  false 
teeth,  as  though  she  were  trying  to  cheat  old  age !  ha !  ha ! 
ha!" 

Prince  Andrei  had  heard  his  wife  get  off  exactly  the  same 
phrase  about  the  Countess  Zubova,  and  the  same  joke,*  at  least 
five  times.  He  went  quietly  into  the  room.  The  princess, 
plump  and  rosy,  was  sitting  in  an  easy-chair,  with  her  work  in 
her  hands,  and  was  talking  an  incessant  stream,  repeating  her 
Petersburg  reminiscences,  and  even  the  familiar  Petersburg 
phrases.  Prince  Andrei  went  up  to  her,  smoothed  her  hair, 
and  asked  if  she  felt  rested.  She  answered  him  and  went  on 
with  her  story. 

A  coach  with  a  six-in-hand  was  waiting  at  the  front  entrance. 
It  was  a  dark,  autumn  night.  The  coachman  could  not  see  the 
pole  of  the  carriage.  Men  with  lanterns  were  standing  on 
the  doorsteps.  The  great  mansion  was  alive  with  lights,  shin- 
ing through  the  lofty  windows.  The  domestics  were  gathered 
in  the  entry  to  say  good-by  to  the  young  prince ;  all  the  liouse- 
hold  were  collected  in  the  hall :  Mikhail  Ivanovitch,  Mile.  Bour- 
ienne, the  Princess  Mariya,  and  her  sister-in-law.  Prince 
Andrei  had  been  summoned  to  his  father's  cabinet,  where  tht* 
old  prince  wanted  to  bid  him  good-by  privately.  All  were 
waiting  for  their  coming. 

When  Prince  Andrei  went  into  the  cabinet,  the  old  prince, 
with  spectacles  on  his  nos^  and  in  his  white  dressing-gown,  in 
which  he  never  received  any  one  except  his  son,  w«as  sitting  at 
the  table  and  writing.     He  looked  around. 

"  Are  you  off  ?  "  and  he  went  on  with  his  writing. 

*  Znb,  from  which  the  name  Zubova  is  derived,  means  tooth. 


WAR  AN^  PEACE.  127 

"I  have  come  to  bid  you  good-by." 

"Kiss  me  here."  He  indicated  his  cheek.  "Thank  you, 
thank  you." 

"  Why  do  you  thank  me  ?  " 

"Because  you  don't  dilly-dally,  because  you  don't  hang  on 
to  your  wife's  petticoats.  Service  before  all!  Thank  you! 
thank  you ! " 

And  he  went  on  with  his  writing  so  vigorously  that  the  ink 
flew  from  his  sputtering  pen.  "  If  you  have  anything  to  say, 
speak.    I  can  attend  to  these  two  things  at  once,"  he  added. 

"  About  my  wife  —  1  am  so  sorry  to  be  obliged  to  leave 
her  on  your  hands." 

"^\Tiat  nonsense  is  that  ?     Tell  me  what  you  want." 

"When  it  is  time  for  ray  wife  to  be  confined,  send  to  Mos- 
cow for  an  accoucheur.     Get  him  here." 

The  old  prince  paused,  and  pretending  not  to  understand, 
fixed  his  eyes  on  his  son. 

"  I  know  that  no  one  can  help,  if  nature  does  not  do  her  work," 
said  Prince  Andrei,  evidently  confused,  "  I  am  aware  that  out 
of  millions  of  cases  only  one  goes  amiss  ;  but  this  is  her  whim 
and  mine.  They  have.been  talking  to  her,  she  had  a  dream, 
and  she  is  afraid." 

"  Hm !  hm  ! "  growled  the  old  prince,  taking  up  his  pen 
again.  "  I  will  do  so."  He  wrote  a  few  more  lines,  suddenly 
turned  upon  his  son,  and  said  with  a  sneer :  "  Bad  business, 
hey  ?  " 

"  What  is  bad,  batyushka  ?  " 

"  Wife ! "   said  the  old  prince,  with  laconic  significance. 

"I  don't  understand  you,"  said  Prince  Andrei. 

"Well,  there's  nothing  to  be  done  about  it,  my  young  friend," 
said  the  prince ;  "  they're  all  alike,  there's  no  way  of  getting 
unmarried.  Don't  be  disturbed,  I  won't  tell  any  one,  but  you 
know  'tis  so." 

He  seized  his  son's  hand  in  his  small,  bony  fingers  and  shook 
it,  looking  him  straight  in  the  face  with  his  keen  eyes,  which 
seemed  to  look  through  a  man,  and  then  once  more  laughed 
his  cold  laugh. 

The  son  sighed,  thereby  signifying  that  his  father  read  him 
correctly.  The  old  man  continued  to  fold  and  seal  his  letters 
with  his  usual  rapidity,  and  when  he  had  finished '  he  caught 
up  and  put  away  the  wax,  the  seal,  and  the  paper. 

"  What  can  you  do  ?  She's  a  beauty  !  I  will  see  that  every- 
thing is  done.  Be  easy  on  that  score,"  said  he  abruptly,  as  he 
sealed  the  last  letter. 


128  WAR  AND 


Andrei  made  no  reply :  it  was  both  pleasant  and  disagreear 
ble  to  have  his  father  understand  him  so  well  The  old  man 
stood  up  and  handed  a  letter  to  his  son. 

"  Listen,"  said  he,  **  don't  worry  about  your  wife.  What- 
ever can  be  done,  shall  be  done.  Now  listen :  give  this  letter 
to  Mikhail  Ilarionovitch  *  I  have  written  him  to  employ  you 
in  the  good  places,  and  not  keep  you  too  long  as  adjutant,  — 
it's  a  nasty  position.  Tell  him  I  remember  him  with  affection, 
and  write  me  how  he  receives  you.  If  all  goes  well,  stay  and 
serve  him.  Nikolai  Audrey  itch  Bolkonsky's  son  must  not 
serve  any  one  from  mere  favoritism.     Now,  come  here." 

He  spoke  so  rapidly  that  he  did  not  finish  half  of  his  words, 
but  his  son  understood  him  ;  he  led  him  to  a  desk,  threw  back 
a  lid,  opened  a  little  box  and  took  out  a  note-book,  written  iu 
his  own  large,  angular,  but  close  hand. 

"  I  shall  probably  die  before  you  do.  Remember,  these  are 
my  memoirs,  they  are  to  be  given  to  the  emperor,  after  luy 
death.  Now;  see  here,  take  this  bank  note  and  this  letter: 
this  is  a  prize  for  the  one  who  sliall  write  a  history  of  the 
wars  of  Suvarof ;  send  it  to  the  Aciwlemy.  Here  are  my  re- 
marks ;  after  I  am  gone  you  may  read  them ;  you  will  find 
them  worth  your  while." 

Andrei  did  not  tell  his  father  that  he  would  probably  live  a 
long  time  yet.     He  felt  that  it  was  not  necessary  to  say  that. 

"I  will  do  it  all,  batyushka,"  said  he. 

"  Well,  then,  good-by."  He  ofForod  him  his  hand  to  kiss,  and 
then  gave  him  an  embrace.  "  Remember  one  thing,  Prince 
Andrei ;  if  you  are  killed  it  will  be  hard  for  me  to  bear ;  I  am 
an  old  man  "  —  He  unexpectedly  i)aused,  and  then  as  sud- 
denly proceeded,  in  a  tempestuous  voice:  "But  if  I  should 
hear  that  you  had  behaved  unworthy  of  a  son  of  Nikolai 
Rolkonsky,  I  should  be  —  ashamed,"  he  hissed. 

"  You  should  not  have  said  that  to  me,  batyushka,"  replied 
the  son,  with  a  smile. 

The  old  man  was  silent. 

"  I  have  still  another  request  to  make  of  you,"  Prince  An- 
drei went  on  to  say.  "  If  I  should  be  killed,  and  if  a  son 
should  be  born  to  me,  don't  let  him  go  from  you,  as  I  was 
saying  last  evening.  Let  him  grow  up  under  your  roof, 
please  ?  " 

"  Not  let  your  wife  have  him  ?  "  asked  the  old  man,  and 
tried  to  laugh.  Both  stood  in  silence  for  some  moments,  facing 
each  other.   'The  old  man's  keen  eyes  gazed  straight  into  his 

*  Kutazof . 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  129 

son^s.    There  was  a  slight  tremor  iii  the  lower  part  of  the  old 
prince's  face. 

"We  have  said  good  by,  now  go  I"  said  he,  suddenly. 
"  Go ! "  he  cried,  in  a  stern,  loud  voice,  opeqing  his  cabinet 
door. 

"What  is  it  ?  what's  the  matter  ?  "  asked  Prince  Andrei's 
wife  and  sister,  as  the  young  man  came  out,  and  they  caught 
a  momentary  glimpse  of  the  old  prince,  in  his  white  dressing- 
gown,  and  without  his  wig,  and  in  his  spectacles,  as  he  appeared 
at  the  door,  screaming  at  his  son. 

Prince  Andrei  sighed,  and  made  no  answer. 

"  Well  ?  "  said  he,  turning  to  his  wife,  and  this  "  well  (ny)  " 
sounded  chillingly  sarcastic,  as  though  he  had  said,  <^Now 
begin  your  little  comedy." 

"  Andre,  already  ?  "  said  the  little  wife,  turning  pale,  and 
fixing  her  terror-stricken  eyes  on  her  husband.  He  took  her 
in  his  arms :  she  gave  a  cry,  and  fell  fainting  on  his  shoulder. 

He  cai-efully  disengaged  himself  of  her  form,  looked  into 
her  face,  and  tenderly  laid  her  in  an  arm  chair. 

"Adieu,  Marie,"  said  he,  gently,  to  his  sister,  kissed  her 
hand,  and  hastened  out  of  the  room. 

The  fainting  princess  lay  in  the  chair;  Mile.  Bourienne 
chafed  her  temples.  The  Princess  Mariya,  holding  her  up,  was 
still  looking,  with  her  lovely  eyes  dim  with  tears,  at  the  door 
through  which  Prince  Andi-ei  had  disappeared,  and  her  blessing 
followed  him. 

In  the  cabinet  the  old  prince  was  heard  repeatedly  blowing 
his  nose,  with  sharp,  angry  reports,  like  pistol  shots.  Prince 
Andrei  had  hardly  left  the  room  when  the  cabinet  door  was 
hurriedly  flung  open,  and  the  prince's  stern  figure  appeared  in 
tlie  white  dressing-gown. 

"Has  he  gone?"  he  asked;  "well,  it  is  just  as  well,"  said 
he.  Then,  looking  angrily  at  the  unconscious  little  princess, 
he  shook  his  head  reproachfully,  and  clapped  the  door  to 
after  him. 

VOL.2.— 9. 


PART    SECOND. 

CHAPTER  I. 

In  October,  1805,  the  Russian  army  were  cantoned  in  certain 
villages  and  towns  in  the  archduchy  of  Austria,  making  a 
heavy  burden  for  the  inhabitants,  and  still  new  regiments  were 
on  the  way  from  Russia,  and  concentrating  around  the  fortress 
of  Braunau,  where  Kutuzof,  the  commander-in-chief,  had  his 
headquarters. 

On  the  twenty-third  of  October,  one  of  the  many  regiments 
of  infantry  that  had  just  arrived,  stopped  about  half  a  mile 
from  the  "city,  waiting  to  be  reviewed  by  the  commander-in- 
chief.  Notwithstanding  the  un-Russian  landscape  — orchards, 
stone  walls,  tiled  roofs,  and  mountains  on  the  horizon  —  and 
the  un-Russian  aspect  of  the  people,  who  gathered  to  look  with 
curiosity  at  the  soldiers,  this  :cegiment  presented  exactly  the 
same  appearance  as  every  other  Russian  regiment  getting 
ready  for  inspection  anywhere  in  the  centre  of  Russia. 

The  evening  before,  during  their  last  march,  word  had  been 
received  that  the  commander-in-chief  would  review  the  regi- 
ment. The  words  of  the  order  had  not  seemed  altogether  clear 
to  the  regimental  commander,  and  the  question  having  arisen, 
how  it  was  to  be  taken,  —  were  they  to  be  in  marching  order 
or  not  ?  —  lie  called  a  council  of  officers,  at  which  it  was 
decided  that  the  regiment  should  be  presented  in  parade  dress, 
on  the  principle  that  it  is  always  better  to  go  beyond  than 
not  to  come  up  to  the  requirements.  And  the  soldiers,  after  a 
march  of  three  hundred  versts,  during  which  they  had  not 
once  closed  their  eyes,  were  kept  all  night  mending  and  clean- 
ing up;  the  aids  and  captains  classified  and  enrolled  their 
men,  and  by  morning  the  regiment,  instead  of  a  straggling, 
disorderly  mob,  such  as  it  had  been  during  the  last  stage  of 
their  march,  presented  a  compact  mass  of  two  thousand  men, 
each  one  of  whom  knew  his  place  and  his  duty ;  every  button 
and  every  strap  were  in  order,  and  shining  with  neatness. 

Not  only  were  all  the  externals  x)tit  into  perfect  order,  but  if 
the  commander-in-chief  should  take  it  into  his  head  to  look 
under  the  uniforms,  then  he  would  have  found  that  each  man 

130 


WAR  AND  PEACE,  131 

had  on  a  clean  shirt,  and  that  in  each  knapsack  were  the 
required  number  of  things,  "  shtltse  i  mtltse ''  —  awl  and  soap  — 
as  the  soldiers  express  it. 

There  was  only  one  particular  in  regard  to  which  no  one 
could  be  satisfied;  this  was  foot  wear.  The  shoes  of  more 
than  half  of  the  men  were  in  tatters.  But  this  lack  was 
not  the  fault  of  the  regimental  commander,  since,  notwith- 
standing his  repeated  demands,  the  necessary  goods  had  not 
been  furnished  by  the  Austrian  commissariat,  and,  moreover, 
the  regiment  had  marched  a  thousand  versts. 

The  regimental  commander  was  an  elderly  general,  of  san- 
guine complexion,  with  gray  brows  and  side  whiskers,  stout 
and  broad ;  the  distance  from  his  chest  to  his  back  was  greater 
than  across  his  shoulders.  He  wore  a  brand-now  uniform, 
which  showed  the  creases  caused  by  having  been  folded,  and 
on  his  shoulders  were  heavy  gold  epaulets,  which  raised  his 
fat  shoulders  still  higher. 

The  regimental  commander  had  the  aspect  of  a  man  who 
had  happily  accomplished  one  of  the  most  important  functions 
of  life.  He  marched  up  and  down  in  front  of  the  line,  and 
as  he  marched  he  shook  at  every  step,  slightly  bending  his 
hack.  It  could  be  seen  that  the  regimental  commander  was 
very  fond  of  his  regiment,  and  felt  happy  at  the  idea  that  all 
his  mental  faculties  were  absorbed  in  it.  But,  nevertheles8, 
his  pompous  gait  seemed  to  insinuate  that  over  and  above  his 
military  interests  there  was  still,  left  no  small  room  in  his 
heart  for  the  affairs  of  society  and  the  feminine  sex. 

"Well,  batyushka,  Mikhailo  Mitritch,"  said  he  turning  to 
one  of  the  majors,  who  stepped  forward  with  a  smile  (it  was 
evident  that  they  were  all  happy)  :  "  We  had  a  pretty  tough 
tussle  last  night,  didn't  we  ?  However,  according  to  my  idea 
our  regiment  isn't  one  of  the  worst,  hey  ?  " 

The  major  appreciated  the  jocund  irony  and  laughed. 

"!N^o,  we  should  not  be  driven  off  from  the  Empress's 
Field."  ♦ 

"What  is  it  ?  "  asked  the  commander,  catching  sight  of  two 
horsemen  galloping  along  the  road  to  the  city,  lined  witli  sig- 
nal men.  It  was  an  adjutant,. with  a  Cossack  riding  behind 
him. 

The  adjutant  had  been  sent  from  headquarters  to  explain 
vhat  had  been  enigmatical  in  the  last  evening's  order,  and 
especially  to  insist  upon  it  that  the  commander-in-chief  wished 
to  review  the  regiment  in  exactly  the  condition  in  which  it  had 

•  Ttaritsuin  Lug^  a  famons  parade  ground  near  St.  Petersburg.  — Tr. 


132  WAR  AND  PEACE, 

arrived  —  in  cloaks,  gun  covers,  and  without  any  preparations 
whatever. 

The  evening  before,  it  had  happened  that  a  member  of  the 
Hofkriegsrath  had  arrived  from  Vienna,  asking  and  urging 
that  Kutuzof  should  make  all  haste  to  join  the  allied  ai-mies 
under  the  Archduke  Ferdinand  and  General  Mack;  and 
Kutuzof,  considering  that  this  junction  was  not  advantageous, 
desired  to  exhibit  in  support  of  his  own  theories,  and  to  havi* 
the  Austrian  general  see  for  himself,  the  pitiable  state  in  which 
the  army  from  Kussia  had  arrived.  With  this  end  in  view  h(» 
was  anxious  to  find  the  regiment  in  marching  order,  and  there- 
fore the  worse  the  situation  of  the  men  the  more  agreeable  it 
would  be  to  him.  The  adjutant  knew  nothing  about  those* 
reasons,  but  he  transmitted  to  the  regimental  commander  the 
general-in- chief's  urgent  desire  that  the  men  should  be  in 
marching  order,  and  added  that  if  it  were  otherwise  the 
commander-in-chief  would  be  very  much  offended. 

On  hearing  these  words,  the  regimental  commander  hung  his 
head,  silently  shrugged  his  shoulders,  and  spread  his  hands 
with  a  despairing  gesture. 

"This  is  great  doings!''  he  cried,  "It's  what  I  told  you, 
Mikhailo  Mitritch  —  in  marching  order,  in  cloaks"  said  he, 
turning  reproachfully  to  the  major.  "Akh!  my  God,"  he 
exclaimed  and  stepped  resolutely  forward.  "Gentlemen  I 
Captains ! "  he  cried,  in  a  voice  accustomed  to  command. 
"Sergeants!  —  Will  they  be  here  soon?"  he  asked,  turning 
to  the  adjutant  with  an  expression  of  deferential  politeness 
evidently  proportioned  to  the  dignity  of  the  personage  of 
whom  he  was  speaking. 

"  Within  an  hour,  I  think." 

"  Shall  we  have  time  to  make  the  change  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,  general." 

The  regimental  commander,  hastening  into  the  ranks,  made 
the  dispositions  for  changing  back  into  marching  costume 
again.  The  captains  ran  to  their  companies,  the  sergeants 
bustled  about  (the  cloaks  were  not  altogether  in  order)  and 
in  an  instant  the  solid  squares  which  had  just  been  standing 
silently  and  orderly,  stirred,  stretched  out,  and  began  to  buzz 
with  busy  voices.  Soldiers  were  running  this  way  and  that, 
getting  their  knapsacks  on  their  shoulders  and  over  their  heads, 
taking  down  their  cloaks  and  lifting  their  arms  high  in  the  air, 
trying  to  get  them  into  their  sleeves. 

W^ithin  half  an  hour  the  whole  regiment  was  in  the  same 
order  as  before ;  only  the  squares  were  transformed  from  black 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  133 

to  grey.  The  regimental  coinmauder  was  again  walking  up 
and  down  in  front  of  the  regiment  with  the  same  tottering 
gait,  and  inspecting  it  from  a  distance. 

"What  does  that  mean?  What  is  that?"  he  cried  sud- 
denly  halting.     "  Captain  of  the  third  company  \ "  ^^ 

"  The  general  wants  the  captain  of  the  third  company    -- 

"The  general  wants  the  third  captain !"  —  "  The  general 
wants  the  third  company ! "  cried  various  voices  along  the 
ranks,  and  an  aid  hastened  to  discover  the  missing  officer. 

Even  while  the  sounds  of  gruff  voices  commingling,  and  some 
even  crying  the  "company  wants  the  general "  rang  along  the 
lines,  the  missing  officer  appeared  from  behind  his  company 
and  although  he  was  well  on  in  years  and  not  used  to  running, 
he  came  toward  the  general  at  an  awkward  dog  trot  on  his  tip- 
toes 

The  captain's  face  expressed  such  anxiety  as  a  schoolboy  feels 
when  he  is  called  upon  to  recite  a  lesson  that  has  not  been 
learned.  His  nose  was  red  and  covered  with  blotches  (evi- 
dently caused  by  intemperance)  and  his  mouth  twitched 
nervously.  The  regimental  commander  surveyed  the  delin- 
quent captain  from  head  to  foot,  as  he  came  up  panting,  and 
slackening  his  pace  as  he  approached. 

"Do  you  let  your  men  wear  women's  sarafans  ?  What  does 
that  mean?"  cried  the  regimental  commander,  thrusting  out  Ins 
lower  jaw  and  pointing  to  a  soldier  in  the  ranks  of  the  tin rd 
company  who  wore  a  colored  capote  of  broadcloth  m  violent 
contrast  with  the  cloaks  of  the  other  soldiers.  "Where  have 
you  been  ?  The  commander-in-chief  is  expected,  and  here  you 
are  out  of  your  place !  —  Hey  ?  —  I  will  teach  you  to  dress 
your  men  in  Cossack  coats  for  review !  —  Hey ! " 

The  captain,  not  taking  his  eyes  from  his  chief,  kept  his 
two  fingers  at  his  visor,  as  though  he  found  his  salvation  now 
in  this  one  position  alone. 

"Well,  why  don't  you  speak?  Whom  have  you  there,  m 
that  Hungarian  costume  ?  "  sternly  demanded  the  regimental 
commander,  with  grim  facetiousness. 

"  Your  excellency "  —  n         • ,       j 

"Well  what  of  your  excellency?     'Your  excellency!     and 

*youT  excellency!'    But  what  does  — do  you  mean  by  'your 

excellency '  ?  *    Nobody  knows  what  you  mean ! " 

"Your  excellency,  that  is  Dolokhof,  cashiered,"  stammered 

the  captain.  ,    _  •     i.   o 

"Well,  was  he  cashiered  to  be  a  field-marshal,  or  a  private  .'' 

•  IMshe  prevaskhodiyeUtvo^ 


134  WAR  A\D  PEACE, 

If  as  a  private,  then  he  ought  to  be  dressed  like  the  others, 
in  uniform  ! " 

"  Your  excellency,  you  yourself  allowed  him  to  dress  so  on 
the  march." 

"  Allowed  him  ?  Allowed  him  ?  That's  always  the  way 
with  you  young  men, "  said  the  general,  cooling  down  a  little. 
"Allowed  him?  We  tell  you  one  thing  and  you"  —  The 
general  paused.  "  We  tell  you  one  thing  and  you  —  well ! " 
said  he,  with  a  fresh  access  of  temper,  "  Be  good  enough  to 
have  your  men  dressed  decently  "  — 

And  the  regimental  commander  glanced  at  the  adjutant  and 
proceeded  along  the  line  with  his  faltering  gait.  It  could 
be  seen  that  his  outburst  of  temper  had  given  him  great  satis< 
faction,  and  that  as  he  passed  along  the  line  he  wanted  to  iind 
some  excuse  for  further  violence.  Berating  one  officer  for 
not  having  a  clean  gorget,  and  another  for  having  his  com- 
pany "dressed"  unevenly,  he  proceeded  to  company  three. 
"  H-o-o-o-ow  are  you  standing  ?  Where  is  your  leg  ?  Your  leg ! 
where  is  it  ?  "  screamed  the  regimental  commander,  with  a  sug- 
gestion of  keen  suffering  in  his  voice,  passing  by  half  a  dozen 
men  to  come  to  Dolokhof,  who  was  dressed  in  a  bluish  capote. 

Dolokhof  slowly  straightened  his  bended  leg,  and,  with  his 
keen,  bold  eyes,  stared  into  the  general's  face. 

"  Why  that  blue  capote  ?  Off  with  it !  Sergeant !  strip 
him.     The  blun  " —    He  did  not  have  time  to  finish. 

"  General,  I  am  bound  to  fulfil  orders,  but  I  am  not  bound 
to  put  up  "  —  began  Dolokhof,  hastily. 

"  No  talking  in  the  ranks  !     No  talking,  no  talking ! " 

"  I  am  not  bound  to  put  up  with  insults,"  cried  Dolokhof,  in 
a  loud,  ringing  voice.  The  eyes  of  the  general  and  the  private 
met. 

The  general  said  no  more,  but  angrily  pulled  down  his  tight 
belt. 

"  Have  the  goodness  to  change  your  coat,  I  beg  of  you," 
said  he,  as  he  turned  away. 


CHAPTER  II. 

"  He  is  coming,"  cried  one  of  the  signal  men. 

The  regimental  commander,  flushing  scarlet,  ran  to  his  horse, 
seized  the  stirrup  with  trembling  hands,  threw  himself  into 
the  saddle,  straightened  himself  up,  drew  his  sabre,  and  with 
a  radiant,  resolute  face,  drew  his  moifth  to  one  side,  ready  to 


WAR  AND  PEACE,  135 

shout  his  order.  A  shiver  ran  through  the  regiment,  as  though 
it  were  a  great  bird  about  to  spread  its  wings  j  then  it  became 
motionless. 

**Eyes  f r-r-r-r-ront ! "  cried  the  regimental  commander,  in  a 
voice  trembling  with  emotion ;  pleasant  as  it  sounded  to  him- 
self, it  was  peremptory  toward  the  regiment,  and  suggestive 
of  welcome  to  the  approaching  chief. 

Along  the  broad  highway,  unpaved,  shaded  with  trees,  came 
a  high  Viennese  calash,  painted  blue,  and  swinging  easily 
on  its  springs,  as  its  six  horses  trotted  briskly  along.  Behind 
it,  galloped  the  suite  and  an  escort  of  Kroatians.  Next  Ku- 
tiizof  sat  the  Austrian  general,  in  a  white  uniform,  which  made 
a  peculiar  contrast  with  the  dark  Kussian  ones.  The  calash 
drew  up  near  the  regiment.  Kutuzof  and  the  Austrian  general 
were  engaged  in  conversation  in  low  tones,  and  Kutuzof  smiled 
slightly,  as  he  slowly  and  heavily  stepped  down  from  the  car- 
riage, exactly  as  though  the  two  thousand  men  who  were  breath- 
lessly gazing  at  him  and  the  regimental  commander,  did  not 
exist. 

The  word  of  command  rang  out,  again  the  regiment  stirred 
into  life,  and  presented  arms.  In  the  dead  silence  the  under- 
tone of  the  commander-in-chief  was  heard. 

The  regiment  shouted,  "  Long  life  to  your  hi-i-ighness ! " 
and  again  all  was  still. 

At  first  Kutuzof  stood  where  he  was  and  watched  the  regi- 
ment go  through  this  evolution,  then  side  by  side  with  the 
general  in  the  white  uniform,  and  accompanied  by  his  suite, 
he  started  to  walk  down  the  line. 

By  the  way  in  which  the  regimental  commander  had  saluted 
his  chief,  and  kept  his  eyes  fastened  upon  him,  and  now  fol- 
lowed behind  the  two  generals  as  they  walked  down  the  lines, 
and  as  he  drew  himself  up  and  bent  forward  to  listen  to  every 
word  that  fell  from  their  lips,  it  was  evident  that  he  fulfilled 
his  duties  as  a  subordinate  with  even  greater  satisfaction  than 
he  did  those  of  a  commander.  The  regiment,  thanks  to  the 
commander's  stem  discipline  and  strenuous  endeavors,  was  in 
excellent  condition  compared  to  the  others  which  had  come  to 
Braunau  at  the  same  time  ;  there  were  only  two  hundred  and 
seventeen  sick  and  stragglers ;  and  all  things  were  in  excellent 
order,  with  the  exception  of  the  shoes. 

Kutuzof  proceeded  down  the  ranks,  occasionally  stopping  to 
say  a  few  friendly  words  to  oflRcers  or  even  privates  whom  he 
had  known  during  the  war  with  Turkey.  Glancing  at  their 
shoes^  he   more  than   once   shook  his  head  mournfully  and 


136  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

directed  the  Austrian  general^s  attention  to  them  with  an 
expression  that  meant  to  imply  that  no  one  was  to  blame  for 
it,  but  it  was  a  pity,  all  the  same,  to  see  such  a  state  of  things. 

The  regimental  commander,  each  time  that  he  did  so,'  pushed 
forward,  fearing  to  lose  a*single  word  that  his  chief  might 
speak  regarding  his  regiment. 

Behind  Kutuzof,  just  near  enough  to  be  able  to  catch  every 
word,  however  lightly  spoken,  that  might  fall  from  his  lips, 
followed  the  twenty  men  of  his  suite,  talking  among  themselves 
and  occasionally  laughing.  Nearest  to  the  commander-in-chief 
walked  a  handsome  adjutant :  this  was  Prince  Bolkonsky.  Next 
him  went  his  messmate,  Nesvitsky,  a  tiill  and  remarkably  stal- 
wart staff-officer,  with  a  kindly,  smiling,  handsome  face  and 
liquid  eyes.  Nesvitsky  could  hardly  refrain  from  laughing  at 
the  antics  of  a  dark-complexioned  officer  of  Hussars  who  was 
walking  near  him.  The  Hussar  officer,  without  smiling,  and 
not  changing  the  serious  expression  of  his  eyes,  gazed  at  the  reg- 
imental commander^s  back  and  was  mimicking  his  every  motion. 
Every  time  that  the  general  tottered  and  pushed  forward,  the 
young  Hussar  officer  would,  in  almost  precisely  the  same  way, 
totter  and  push  forward.  Nesvitsky  was  amused,  and  nudged 
the  others  to  look  at  the  mimic. 

Kutuzof  walked  slowly  and  lazily  in  front  of  the  thousands 
of  eyes  that  were  starting  from  their  sockets  to  follow  the 
motions  of  the  chief.  As  he  came  along  to  company  three, 
he  suddenly  halted.  The  suite,  not  anticipating  this  halt,  in- 
voluntarily crowded  up  close  to  him. 

"  Ah,  Timokhin  ! "  cried  the  commander-in-chief,  recognizing 
the  red-nosed  captain, — the  one  who  had  been  obliged  to  suf- 
fer on  account  of  the  blue  capote. 

It  would  seem  as  though  it  were  impossible  for  him  to  draw 
himself  up  higher  than  he  had  done  during  the  scolding  ad- 
ministered by  the  regimental  commander.  But  now  that  the 
commander-in-chief  stopped  to  speak  to  him,  the  captain  put 
such  a  strain  upon  himself,  that  it  seemed  as  though  he  could 
not  stand  it  should  the  commander-in-chief  stay  a  moment 
longer;  and,  accordingly,  Kutuzof,  evidently  appreciating  his 
position  and  being  anxious  to  show  every  kindness  to  the  cap- 
tain, hastened  to  turn  away,  a  scarcely  perceptible  smile  flitting 
over  his  plump,  scarred  face. 

"  Another  comrade  of  Izmailo ! "  said  he.  "  A  brave  officer ! 
Are  you  satisfied  with  him?  "  asked  Kutuzof  of  the  regimental 
commander. 

The  regimental  commander,  who,  unknown  to  himself  was 


WAR  Ai\D  PEACE.  137 

mimicked  as  in  a  mirror  by  the  officer  of  hussars,  started  as  if 
stung,  sprang  forward  and  replied,  — 

*Very  well  satisfied,  your  high  excellency."* 

"  We  all  of  us  have  our  weaknesses."  continued  Kutuzof, 
smiling  and  turning  away.  "  His  used  to  be  his  devotion  to 
Bacchus." 

The  regimental  commander  was  alarmed  lest  he  were  to 
blame  for  this  and  found  no  words  to  reply.  The  Hussar  at 
this  instant  caught  sight  of  the  captain  with  the  red  nose  and 
rounded  belly  and  perpetrated  such  an  exact  imitation  of  his 
face  and  pose  that  Nesvitsky  laughed  outright.  Kutuzof 
turned  around.  It  was  evident  that  the  young  officer  had  per- 
fect command  of  his  features :  for  at  the  instant  that  Kutuzof 
turned  round  the  officer's  face  had  assumed  the  most  serious, 
deferential,  and  innocent  of  expressions. 

The  third  company  was  the  last  and  Kutuzof  paused,  evi- 
dently trying  to  recollect  something.  Prince  Andrei  stepped 
out  from  the  suite  and  said  in  French  in  an  undertone,  — 

"You  ordered  me  to  remind  you  of  Dolokhof,  who  was 
cashiered  to  this  regiment "  — 

"Where  is  this  Dolokhof  ?" 

Dolokhof  who  now  wore  the  gray  military  capote,  did  not 
wait  to  be  summoned.  Kutuzof  saw  a  well-built  soldier  with 
light  curly  hair  and  bright  blue  eyes  come  forth  from  the 
ranks  and  present  arms. 

**  A  grievance  ?  "  asked  Kutuzof,  slightly  frowning. 

"That  is  Dolokhof,"  said  Prince  Andrei. 

"  Ah  ?  "  exclaimed  Kutuzof,  "  I  hope  that  you  will  profit  by 
this  lesson.  Do  your  duty.  The  emperor  is  merciful.  And  I 
will  not  forget  you,  if  you  deserve  well." 

The  clear  blue  eyes  looked  into  the  chief's  face  with  the 
same  boldness  as  at  the  regimental  commander's,  their  expres- 
sion seeming  to  rend  the  veil  of  rank  that  so  widely  separated 
the  commander-in-chief  from  the  private  soldier. 

"I  should  like  to  ask  one  favor,  your  high  excellency," 
said  he  deliberately,  in  a  firm,  ringing  voice ;  "  I  beg  that  you 
give  me  a  chance  to  wipe  out  my  fault  and  show  my  devotion 
to  his  Majesty  the  Emperor,  and  to  Russia." 

Kutuzof  turned  away.  The  same  sort  of  smile  flashed  over 
his  face  and  through  his  eyes  as  at  the  time  when  he  turned 
away  from  Captain  Timokhin.  He  turned  away  and  frowned, 
as  though  he  wished  to  express  by  this  that  all  that  Dolokhof 
had  said  to  him  and  all  that  he  could  possibly  say  to   him 

♦  V4sfie  vxiisokoprevaskhoditydstvo^ 


138  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

he  had  known  long,  long  ago^  and  that  it  was  all  a  bore  to  him 
and  that  it  was  so  much  wasted  breath.  He  turned  away  and 
went  back  to  the  calash. 

The  regiment  broke  up  into  companies  and  marched  to 
the  quarters  assigned  them  not  far  from  Braunau,  where  they 
hoped  to  get  shoes  and  clothes  and  rest  after  their  long 
marches. 

"  You  will  not  complain  of  me,  will  you,  Prokhor  Ignatyitch," 
asked  the  regimental  commander,  galloping  after  the  third  com- 
pany and  overtaking  Captain  Timokhin,  who  rode  at  their  head. 
The  generals  face  shone  with  unrestrained  delight  at  the  suc- 
cessful outcome  of  the  review  . —  "  The  service  of  the/fsar.  — 
Can't  help  —  one  flies  off  —  1  am  the  first  to  apologize.  You 
know  me  —  Thank  you  very  much  ! ''  And  he  held  out  his 
hand  to  the  captain. 

"  I  beg  of  you,  general !  how  could  I  think  of  such  a  thing," 
replied  the  captain :  his  nose  grew  scarlet  and  he  smiled,  the 
smile  betraying  the  lack  of  two  front  teeth  which  had  been 
knocked  out  by  the  but  end  of  a  gun,  under  Izmailo. 

"  And  assure  Mr.  Dolokhof  that  I  shall  not  forget  him  —  to 
rest  easy  on  that  score.  And  tell  me  please,  I  have  been  want- 
ing for  some  time  to  ask  you,  how  does  he  behave  ?  And 
always  "  — 

"  He  is  very  regular  in  his  duty,  your  excellency  —  but  his 
temper  "  —  said  Timokhin. 

"Well,  what  of  his  temper?"  demanded  the  regimental 
commander. 

"  Some  days,  your  excellency,  he  goes  it,"  said  the  captain, 
"  but  otherwise  he  is  intelligent  and  well  informed  and  quiet. 
And  then  again  he  is  a  wild  beast.  In  Poland  he  almost  killed 
a  Jew,  you  will  have  the  grace  to  know." 

"  Yes,  yes,"  said  the  regimental  commander.  "  We  must 
always  be  easy  on  a  young  man  in  misfortune.  You  see  he  has 
influential  connections  —  so  you  had  better"  — 

"  I  understand,  your  excellency  "  rejoined  Timokhin,  with  a 
smile  that  showed  that  he  understood  his  chiefs  desires. 

"  Yes,  yes,  just  so ! " 

The  regimental  commander  sought  out  Dolokhof  in  the  ranks 
and  reined  in  his  horse. 

"  Epaulets  at  the  first  engagement ! "  said  he. 

Dolokhof  looked  up,  but  made  no  answer  and  did  not  alter 
the  expression  of  the  ironical  smile  that  curled  his  lips. 

"  Well,  this  is  very  good,"  continued  the  regimental  com- 
mander, "  A  glass  of  vodka  to  the  men  from  me,"  he  abided, 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  139 

loud  enough  to  be  heard  by  the  soldiers.  "  I  thank  you  all ! 
Slava  Bohu  —  glory  to  God ! "  And  he  rode  on  and  overtook 
the  next  company. 

"  Well,  it's  a  fact,  he's  a  good  man  and  not  hard  to  serve 
under,"  said  Timokhin  to  a  subaltern  riding  next  him. 

"  In  a  word,  very  hearty,"  said  the  subaltern  officer,  laugliing 
at  his  own  joke.  The  regimental  commander  was  nicknamed, 
^*  The  King  of  Hearts." 

The  cheerful  frame  of  mind  felt  by  the  officers  after  the 
review  was  shared  also  by  the  men.  The  regiment  marched 
along  merrily.  On  all  sides  were  heard  tlie  voices  of  the 
soldiers  talking. 

"  How  is  it  ?  They  say  Kutuzof  is  blind  of  one  eye  ?  " 

"  Well  so  he  is ;  quite  blind." 

"Nay,  brother,  he  can  see  better  than  you  can,  He 
inspected  our  boots  and  leg- wrappers  and  everything." 

"My!  when  he  looked  at  my  legs  I  didn't  know  what  I 
was  standing  on." 

"And  that  other  one,  the  Avstnak  who  was  with  him!  I 
should  think  he  was  whitewashed !  White  as  flour !  Think  what 
a  job  to  clean  that  uniform ! " 

"  Say,  Fedcshou,  did  he  say  when  we  should  begin  to  be  on 
our  guard  ?  You  were  in  front !  I  was  told  that  Bunajiarte 
himself  was  at  Brunava.^* 

"Bunap'arte  here  !  what  a  lie  you  fool !  Don't  you  know  any- 
thing? Now^  the  Prusak  is  up  in  arms;  and  the  Avstriak  of 
course,  have  got  to  put  him  down.  And  when  he's  put  down 
then  there'll  be  war  with  Bunaparte.  And  yet  they  say 
Bunaparte  is  here  at  Brunova!  Anybody  could  see  you  was 
a  fool  I  Keep  3'our  ears  peeled,  you  idiot ! " 

"  The  devil !  what  sort  of  quartermasters  these  are  !  see  ! 
there's  the  fifth  company  turning  off  into  the  village ;  they'll 
have  their  kasha-pots  l)oiling  before  we  get  in." 

"  Give  me  a  biscuit,  von  devil ! " 

"  Didn't  I  gie  you  some  tobaeky,  last  evening  ?  Too  thin, 
brother  !     Well,  then,  God  bo  with  you  ! " 

"Oh!  I  wish  they'd  call  a  halt !  the  idea  of  marching  five 
versts  more  on  an  empty  stomach ! " 

"What  you'd  like'd  be  for  those  Germans  to  give  us  a  lift 
in  their  carriages.  Then  you'd  go  easy  enough ;  that  would  be 
fine!" 

"But  here,  brother,  see  all  these  beggarly  people  come  out! 
The  Pol  yaks,  back  there,  l)elonged  to  the  Russian  crown,  but 
here,  brother,  there's  nothing  but  Germans  come  out," 


140  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

"  Singers  to  the  front ! "  cried  the  captain. 

A  score  of  men  from  the  different  companies  ran  to  their 
places  at  the  head  of  the  column.  The  drummer  who  led  the 
singing  faced  the  singers  and  waved  his  arm  and  struck  up 
the  drawling  soldier's  song  beginning  with  the  words, — 

**  Is  it  the  dawn,  and  lias  the  red  sun  risen  ?  " 

and  ending,— 

"  Well,  hoys,  what  glory  we  shall  win  with  Father  Kamensky." 

This  song  had  been  composed  in  Turkey,  and  was  now  sung 
in  Austria,  with  simply  this  variation,  that  in  place  of  "  Father 
Kamensky,"  Father  Kutuzof  was  substituted. 

The  drummer,  a  stalwart,  handsome  fellow,  forty  years  old, 
having  sung  these  last  words  in  staccato,  soldier  style,  made  a 
gesture  with  his  hands  as  though  he  were  throwing  something  to 
the  ground,  looked  sternly  at  his  singers,  and  frowned.  Then 
feeling  the  consciousness  of  all  eyes  being  fastened  upon  him, 
he  lifted  his  arms  high  above  his  head,  as  though  he  were  car- 
rying with  the  greatest  care  some  invisible  and  precious  object, 
and  holding  them  so  for  several  moments,  he  suddenly  flung  it 
down  with  a  despairing  gesture,  singing,— 

"  Akh  mi  s^i,  mol  §^i."  • 

while  twenty  voices  took  up  the  refrain,  and  a  spoonmaker, 
disregarding  the  weight  of  his  equipment,  friskily  danced 
ahead  and  walked  backwards  before  the  company,  shrugging 
his  shoulders  and  making  gestures  of  defiance  with  his  spoons. 

The  soldiers,  clapping  their  hands  in  time  with  the  measure 
of  the  song,  marched  on  in  stejj. 

Behind  them  were  heard  the  rattle  of  wheels,  the  creaking 
of  springs,  and  the  trampling  of  horses'  feet.  It  was  Kutuzof 
and  his  suite,  on  their  way  back  to  the  city.  The  commander- 
in-chief  signified  that  the  men  should  keep  on  as  they  were, 
and  he  and  all  his  suite  showed  by  their  faces  how  much  they 
enjoyed  the  music  of  the  songs,  the  sight  of  the  dancing  sol- 
dier, and  the  bold  and  buoyant  appearance  of  the  company. 

Conspicuous  in  the  second  file  of  the  right  flank,  near  which 
the  calash  passed,  was  Dolokhof,  the  blue-eyed  private,  as 
he  marched  along  with  an  extraordinarily  bold  and  graceful 
gait,  keeping  time  to  the  song  and  looking  into  the  faces  of 

^  Ah,  my  cottage,  my  cottage, 


WAJi  AND  PEACE.  141 

the  passing  ofiScers  with  an  expression  that  seemed  to  smack 
of  pity  for  all  who  did  not  mai-ch  with  his  company.  The 
comet  of  Hussars  in  Kutuzors  suite,  who  had  mimicked 
the  regimental  commander^  fell  behind  the  calash  and  drew 
up  alongside  of  Dolokhof . 

Zherkofy  this  comet  of  hussars,  had  at  one  time  belonged  to 
the  same  wild  set  in  Petersburg  of  which  Dolokhof  was  the 
leader.  Here,  abroad,  Zherkof  met  Dolokhof  in  the  ranks,  but 
,  did  not  find  it  expedient  to  recognize  him  at  first..  Now,  how- 
ever, since  Kutuzof  had  set  the  example  by  talking  with  the 
degraded  officer,  he  went  to  him  with  all  the  cordiality  of  an 
old  friend. 

"My  dear  fellow,  how  are  you  ?  "  said  he,  right  in  the  midst 
of  the  song,  as  he  walked  his  horse  abreast  of  the  company. 

"  How  am  I  ?  "  repeated  Dolokhof,  "  As  you  see." 

The  military  song  gave  a  special  significance  to  the  tone  of 
easy  good  fellowship  in  which  Zherkof  spoke,  and  the  pro- 
nounced coolness  of  Dolokhof's  answer. 

"  And  how  do  you  get  along  with  your  chiefs  ?  "  asked  Zher- 
kof. 

**  All  right ;  good  fellows.  How  did  you  manage  to  get  on 
the  BtaflF  ?  " 

"  I  am  attached  —  on  duty." 

Neither  spoke. 

"  Vuipuskdta  aokold 
Da  iz  prdvava  rukavd**  • 

rang  out  the  song,  involuntarily  inspiring  a  bold,  blithe  feeling. 
Their  talk  would  probably  have  been  different,  if  they  had  not 
spoken  while  the  singing  was  in  progress. 

"Is it  true  that  the  Austrians  are  beaten?"  asked  Dolok- 
hof. 

"The  devil  only  knows ;  so  they  sav." 

"  I  am  glad  of  it,"  exclaimed  Dolokhof,  curtly,  as  though  the 
song  demanded  it  of  him. 

"Say,  come  to  us  this  evening.  You'll  have  a  chance  at 
faro,"  said  Zherkof. 

"  Did  you  bring  a  good  deal  of  money  with  you  ?  " 

"  CJome." 

"Can't.  I've  sworn  off.  I  neither  drink  nor  play  till  I'm 
promoted." 

"Well,  that'll  come  the  first  engagement." 

"  We  shall  see." 

*  She  unleashed  the  falconi  and  from  the  right  sleeve. 


142  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

Again  they  relapsed  iuto  silence. 

"  Look  in,  anyway ;  if  you  need  anything,  the  staff  will 
help  you." 

Dolokhof  laughed. 

"  Don't  make  yourself  uneasy.     If  I  need  anything,  I  shall 

not  ask  for  it :  I'll  take  it." 
"  Well,  I  mean  "— 
"  Well,  and  so  do  I  mean." 
"  Good-by." 
"  Farewell." 

"  I  vuisoka  i  dcUekd, 
Na  roddmu  storatvi.**  • 

Zherkof  put  spurs  to  his  hoi-se,  which  pranced  and  danced 
not  knowing  with  which  foot  to  start,  and  then,  with  a  spnng, 
galloped  off,  leaving  the  company  far  behind,  and  overtook  the 
calash,  while  still  the  rhythm  of  the  song  seemed  to  wing 
its  feet. 

CHAPTER  III. 

On  his  return  from  the  review,  Kutuzof,  accompanied  by 
the  Austrian  general,  went  into  his  private  room  and  calling 
his  adjutant  bade  him  bring  certain  papers  relating  to  the  state 
of  the  troops,  and  some  letters  received  from  the  Archduke 
Ferdinand,  the  commander  of  the  army  of  the  van.  Prince 
Andrei  Bolkonsky  came  into  the  commander-in-chiefs  office 
with  the  desired  papers.  Kutuzof  and  the  member  of  the  Hof- 
kriegsrath  were  sitting  at  a  table  on  which  was  spread  a  map. 

"  Ah,"  said  Kutuzof,  with  a  glance  at  Bolkonsky,  signifying 
by  this  exclamation  that  the  adjutant  was  to  wait,  while  at 
the  same  time  he  went  on  in  French  with  the  conversation 
that  he  had  begun. 

"  I  have  only  one  thing  to  say,  general,"  proceeded  Kutuzof, 
with  a  pleasing  elegance  of  diction  and  accent  which  con- 
strained one  to  listen  to  each  deliberately  spoken  word. 

It  was  evident  that  Kutuzof  took  pleasure  in  hearing  himself. 

"I  have  only  one  thing  to  say,  general;  if  the  matter 
depended  solely  on  me,  then  the  desire  of  his  majesty  the 
Emperor  Franz  would  long  ago  have  been  fulfilled.  I  should 
long  ago  have  joined  the  archduke.  And  I  assure  you,  on  ray 
honor,  that  for  me  personally,  I  should  have  been  rejoiced 
to  give  over  the  supreme  command  of  the  armies  to  a  general 

*  "  High  and  far  in  our  fatherland/' 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  U3 

so  much  more  learned  and  more  experienced  than  myself,  — 
and  such  men  abound  in  Austria,  —  and  to  be  relieved  of  the 
heavy  responsibility ;  but  circumstances  are  often  beyond  our 
control,  general." 

And  Kutuzof  smiled,  with  an  expression  that  seemed  to  say : 
You  are  at  perfect  liberty  not  to  put  any  confidence  in  what 
I  say,  and  it  is  absolutely  of  no  consequence  to  me  whether  you 
believe  me  or  not,  but  you  have  no  need  to  tell  me  so.  And 
that' s  all  there  is  of  it. 

The  Austrian  general  looked  dissatisfied^  but  could  not  do 
otherwise  than  reply  in  the  same  tone. 

*'0n  the  contrary,"  said  he,  in  a  querulous  and  angry  tone, 
that  put  the  lie  to  the  flattering  intention  of  his  words ;  "  on 
the  contrary,  his  majesty  highly  appreciates  the  part  that  you 
have  taken  in  the  common  cause,  but  we  think  that  the  present 
delay  will  rob  the  brave  Russian  army  and  their  generals  of 
those  laurels  which  they  are  in  the  habit  of  winning  in  war," 
he  rejoined,  in  a  phrase  evidently  prepared  beforehand. 

Kutuzof  bowed  but  still  continued  to  smile. 

"  Well,  such  is  my  idea  of  it,  and  relying  upon  the  last  letter 
which  his  highness  the  Archduke  Ferdinand  has  done  me  the 
honor  of  writing  me,  I  have  no  doubt  that  the  Austrian  army, 
under  the  command  of  such  an  experienced  coadjutor  as 
General  Mack,  has  already  won  a  decisive  victory  and  no 
longer  needs  our  aid,"  said  Kutuzof. 

The  general  frowned.  There  was  indeed  no  accurate  infor- 
mation about  the  condition  of  the  Austrians,  yet  there  was 
a  preponderating  weight  of  circumstantial  evidence  in  favor  of 
the  unfavorable  rumors  that  were  in  circulation,  and  therefore 
Kutuzof  s  assumption  of  an  Austrian  victory,  seemed  very 
much  like  a  jest.  But  Kutuzof  smiled  blandly,  with  an 
expression  that  seemed  to  affirm  his  right  to  make  this  assump- 
tion. In  fact,  the  last  letter  that  he  had  received  from  Mack's 
army  informed  him  of  a  probable  victory,  and  of  the  very 
^advantageous  strategical  position  of  his  army. 

"Give  me  that  letter,"  said  Kutuzof,  addressing  Prince 
Andrei.  "Have  the  goodness  to  listen  to  this,"  and 
Kutuzof,  with  an  ironical  smile  hovering  on  his  lips,  read  in 
Oerman  to  the  Austrian  general  the  following  passage  from 
the  Archduke  Ferdinand's  letter :  — 

"We  have  our  forces  perfoetly  concentrated  —  nearly 
seventy  thousand  strong  —  so  that  we  can  attack  and  defeat  the 
enemy  should  he  attempt  to  cross  tlie  Lech.  Since  we  are 
masters  of  Ulm,  we  cannot  lose  the  advantage  of  having  con- 


144  M^^A  AND  PEACE. 

trol  of  both  banks  of  the  Danube ;  moreover,  should  the  enemy 
not  cross  the  Lech,  we  can  at  any  moment  take  the  other  side 
of  the  Danube,  attack  his  line  of  communication,  and,  by  recross- 
ing  the  Danube  lower  down,  instantly  nullify  his  plans,  if  he 
should  think  of  turning  the  main  body  of  his  forces  against 
our  faithful  allies.  Thus  we  can  confidently  wait  the  moment 
when  the  Imperial  Russian  army  is  ready  to  join  us,  and  then 
easily  find  an  opportunity  in  common  to  inflict  upon  the  enemy 
the  fate  that  he  deserves."  * 

Kutuzof  drew  a  long  breath,  when  he  had  finished  this 
passage,  and  looked  with  a  sympathetic  and  kindly  expression 
at  the  member  of  the  Hofkriegsrath. 

"  But  you  know,  your  excellency,  that  the  law  of  courage 
advises  to  be  prepared  for  the  worst,"  said  the  Austrian  general, 
evidently  anxious  to  have  done  with  jokes  and  take  up  serious 
business.     He  involuntarily  glanced  at  the  adjutant. 

"  Excuse  me,  general "  exclaimed  Kutuzof,  interrupting  him 
and  also  turning  to  Prince  Andrei.  "  See  here,  my  dear  fel- 
low, get  from  Kozlovsky  all  the  reports  from  our  spies.  Here 
are  two  letters  from  Count  Nostitz,  and  here's  a  letter  from 
the  Archduke  Ferdinand,  —  another  still,"  said  he,  handing 
him  a  quantity  of  papers.  "  Have  an  abstract  of  these  made 
out  neatly  in  French,  as  a  memorandum,  so  that  we  can  see  at 
a  glance  all  the  facts  that  we  have  in  regard  to  the  doings  of 
the  Austrian  army.  Now  then,  when  it  is  done  you  will  hand 
it  to  his  excellency." 

Prince  Andrei  inclined  his  head  as  a  sign  that  he  compre- 
hended from  the  very  first  word  not  only  all  that  Kutuzof  had 
said,  but  all  that  he  meant  to  say  to  him.  He  gathered  up  the 
papers  and  with  a  general  salutation  went  into  the  reception- 
room,  stepping  noiselessly  over  the  soft  carpet. 

Notwithstanding  the  fact  that  not  much  time  had  elapsed 
since  Prince  Andrei  had  left  Eussia,  he  had  greatly  changed. 
In  the  expression  of  his  face,  in  his  motions,  in  his  gait,  there 
was  almost  nothing  to  be  recognized  of  his  former  affectation, 
lassitude,  and  laziness.  He  had  the  appearance  of  a  man 
who  had  no  time  to  think  about  the  impression  that  he  pro- 
duced upon  others,  but  who  was  occupied  with  pleasant  and 
interesting  work.  His  face  showed  more  of  contentment  with 
himself  and  his  surroundings ;  his  smile  and  glance  were  more 
cheerful  and  attractive. 

Kutuzof,  whom  he  joined  in  Poland,  had  received  him  venr 
warmly  and  promised  not  to  forget  him ;   treated  him  wili 

*  In  German  in  the  original. 


WAR  AND  PEACE,  146 

more  distinction  than  his  other  adjutants,  and  had  taken  him 
to  VieDna  with  him  and  intrusted  him  with  the  most  important 
duties.  From  Vienna^  Kutuzof  sent  a  letter  to  his  old  comrade. 
Prince  Andrei's  father,  — 

"Your  SOD,"  he  wrote,  "  bids  fair  to  become  an  officer  who 
will  be  distinguished  for  his  quickness  of  perception,  his  firm- 
ness, and  his  faithfulness.  I  count  myself  fortunate  in  having 
such  a  helpmeet." 

Among  the  officers  of  Kutuzof's  staff  and  in  the  army 
generaUy,  Prince  Andrei  bore  two  diametrically  opposite 
reputations,  just  the  same  as  in  Petersburg  society.  One 
party,  the  minority,  regarded  Prince  Andrei  as  in  some  way 
different  from  themselves  and  all  other  people,  and  expected 
bim  to  achieve  the  most  brilliant  success ;  they  listened  to  him, 
praised  him,  and  imitated  him,  and  Prince  Andrei  was  on 
pleasant  and  easy  terms  with  these  men.  The  other  party,  the 
majority,  were  not  fond  of  Prince  Andrei ;  they  considered  him 
hatighty,  cold,  and  disagreeable.  But  Prince  Andrei  had  suc- 
ceeded in  winning  their  respect  and  even  their  fear. 

Coming  into  the  reception-room  from  Kutuzof's  cabinet, 
Prince  Andrei  took  his  papers  to  one  of  his  colleagues,  the 
adjutant  Kozlovsky  who  was  on  duty  and  was  sitting  with 
a  book  at  the  window.     • 

"Well,  what  is  it,  prince  ?  "  asked  Kozlovsky. 

"You  are  ordered  to  draw  up  a  memorandum,  to  account  for 
our  not  advancing." 

"But  why?" 

Prince  Andrei  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"Any  news  of  Mack  ?  " 

"No." 

"If  it  were  true  that  he  is  defeated,  we  should  have  heard 
of  it  by  this  time." 

"Probably,"  rejoined  Prince  Andrei,  and  started  for  the 
outer  door;  but  at  that  very  instant  the  door  was  flung  almost 
into  his  face,  and  a  tall  Austrian  general,  in  an  overcoat,  and 
with  his  head  swathed  in  a  dark  handkerchief,  and  with  the 
order  of  Maria  Theresa  around  his  neck,  hurried  into  the  room, 
having  evidently  just  arrived  from  a  journey. 

Prince  Andrei  paused. 

"General-in-chief  Kutuzof  ?  "  hurriedly  demanded  the  newly 
arrived  general,  with  a  strong  German  accent,  and  looking  anx- 
iously on  all  sides,  started  without  delay  for  the  door  of  the 
general's  private  room. 

"The  general-in-chief  is  engaged,"  said  Kozlovsky,  hasten- 


146  n^AR  AND  PEACE. 

ing  toward  the  unknown  general  and  barring  the  way  to  the 
cabinet. 

"  Whom  shall  I  announce  ?  " 

The  unknown  general  looked  scornfully  down  on  the 
diminutive  Kozlovsky^  and  seemed  to  be  amazed  that  he  was 
not  recognized. 

"The  general-in-chief  is  engaged,"  repeated  Kozlovsky 
calmly. 

The  general's  face  contracted,  his  lips  drew  together  and 
trembled. 

He  drew  out  a  note-book,  quickly  wrote  something  in  pencil, 
tore  out  the  leaf,  and  handed  it  to  the  adjutant ;  then,  with 
quick  steps,  he  walked  over  to  the  window,  threw  himself  into 
a  chair,  and  surveyed  those  in  the  room,  as  though  asking  why 
they  stared  at  him  so  ?  Then  the  general  lifted  his  head, 
stretched  out  his  neck,  as  though  he  were  about  to  say  some- 
thing, and  then,  affecting  to  hum  to  himself,  produced  a 
strange  sound,  instantly  swallowed.  The  office  door  opened, 
and  Kutuzof  himself  appeared  on  the  threshold.  The  general 
with  the  bandaged  head,  who  had  appai*ently  escaped  from 
some  peril,  bowed,  and  hastened,  with  long,  swift  strides 
across  the  room,  toward  Kutuzof. 

"  Vous  voyez  le  malheiireiix  Mack  I "  *  said  he,  in  a  broken 
voice. 

Kutuzofs  face,  as  he  stood  at  his  office  door,  remained  per- 
fectly unchangeable  for  several  moments.  Then  a  frown  ran 
like  a  wave  across  his  brow,  and  passed  off,  leaving  his  face  as 
serene  as  before.  He  respectfully  bent  his  head,  shut 'his  eyes, 
silently  allowed  Mack  to  pass  in  front  of  him  into  the  office, 
and  then  closed  the  door  behind  him. 

The  rumor,  already  spread  abroad,  as  to  the  defeat  of  the 
Austrians  and  the  surrender  of  the  whole  army  at  Ulm,  was 
thus  proved  to  be  correct.  Within  half  an  hour,  adjutants 
were  flying  about  in  all  directions  with  orders  for  the  Russian 
army,  till  now  inactive,  to  prepare  immediately  to  meet  the 
enemy. 

Prince  Andrei  was  one  of  those  uncommon  staff  officers 
whose  interest  is  concentrated  on  the  general  operations  of  the 
war.  On  seeing  Mack,  and  l(\arning  the  particulars  of  his 
defeat,  he  realized  that  half  of  the  campaign  was  lost,  and 
appreciated  the  painfully  difficult  situation  of  the  Russian 
army,  while  his  imagination  vividly  pictured  the  fate  that  was 
awaiting  the  army,  and  the  part  which  he  was  about  to  play 

•  "  Yoa  see  the  unfortunate  Mack !  " 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  147 

in  it  In  spite  of  himself  he^e^erienced  a  strong  feeling  of 
delight  at  the  thought  of  the  shame  that  Austria  had  brought 
upon  herself,  and  that  perhaps  within  a  week  he  would  havt^ 
a  chance  to  witness  and  take  part  in  an  encounter  between  the 
Russians  and  the  French,  the  first  since  the  time  of  Suvarof. 

But  he  feared  lest  Bonaparte's  genius  should  show  itself 
superior  to  the  valor  of  the  Russian  troops,  and  at  the  same 
time  he  could  not  bear  the  thought  of  his  hero  suffering 
disgrace. 

Agitated  and  stirred  by  these  thoughts,  Prince  Andrei 
started  for  his  room  to  write  his  father,  to  whom  he  sent  a 
daily  letter.  In  the  corridor  he  fell  in  with  his  roommate, 
Nesvitsky,  and  the  buffoon  Zherkof;  as  usual,  they  were 
laughing  and  joking. 

"Why  are  you  so  down  in  the  mouth  ?  "  asked  Nesvitsky, 
noticing  Prince  Andrei's  pale  face  and  flashing  eyes. 

"  There's  nothing  to  be  gay  about,"  replied  Bolkonsky. 

Just  as  Prince  Andrei  joined  Nezvitsky  and  Zherkof,  there 
came  toward  them  from  the  other  end  of  the  corridor  the  Aus- 
trian general,  Strauch,  who  was  attached  to  Kutuzof's  staff,  to 
look  after  the  commissariat  of  the  Russian  army.  He  was 
with  the  member  of  the  Hofkriegsrath,  who  had  arrived  the 
evening  before. 

There  was  plenty  of  room  in  the  wide  corridor  for  the  gen- 
erals to  pass  without  incommoding  the  three  officers;  but 
Zherkof,  giving  Nesvitsky  a  push,  exclaimed,  in  a  hurried 
voice,  — 

"  They  are  coming !  they  are  coming !  Stand  aside,  please ! 
Please  make  room ! " 

The  generals  came  along,  evidently  desiring  to  avoid  em- 
barrassing etiquette.  A  stupid  smile  spread  over  the  buffoon 
Zherkof  s  face. 

"Your  excellency,"  said  he,  in  German,  as  he  stepped  for- 
ward and  addressed  the  Austrian  general,  "  I  have  the  honor 
of  congratulating  you."  He  made  a  low  bow,  and,  awkwardly, 
like  a  child  learning  to  dance,  began  to  scrape  first  with  one 
foot  then  with  the  other. 

The  member  of  the  Hofkriegsrath  gave  him  a  stern  look ; 
hut  concluding,  by  his  idiotic  smile  that  he  was  in  earnest,  h«* 
was  constrained  to  listen  for  a  moment.  He  frowned,  to  show- 
that  he  was  listening. 

"  I  have  the  honor  of  congratulating  you !  General  Mack 
has  come ;  he's  perfectly  well,  save  for  a  slight  wound  here," 
said  he,  with  a  radiant  smile,  pointing  to  his  forehead. 


148  tlV*^  ^yi>  PEACE, 

The  general  frowned,  and  horned  away, — and  went  on  his 
way. 

'^  Heavens,  what  simplicity ! "  *  said  he,  angrily,  after  he  had 
gone  a  few  steps. 

Nesritsky,  with  a  laugh,  threw  his  arms  around  Prince 
Andrei ;  but  the  latter,  paler  than  ever,  and  with  a  wrathful 
look  on  his  face,  pushed  him  aside,  and  turned  to  Zherkof. 
The  nervous  excitement  induced  by  the  sight  of  Mack,  by  the 
news  of  his  defeat,  and  the  thoughts  of  what  was  awaiting 
the  Russian  army,  found  its  outlet  in  wrath  at  this  ill-timed 
jest  of  Zherkof  s. 

"  If  you,  my  dear  sir,"  he  exclaimed,  scornfully,  while  his 
lower  jaw  twitched  a  little,  ''  choose  to  be  a  buffoon,  why  I 
cannot  hinder  you ;  but  I  assure  you  that  if  you  dare  a  second 
time  to  act  like  a  fool  in  my  presence,  I  will  teach  you  how  to 
behave." 

Nesvitsky  and  Zherkof  were  so  amazed  at  this  outburst  that 
all  they  could  do  was  to  look  in  silence  at  Bolkonsky,  with 
wide  open  eyes. 

"  Why,  1  only  congratulated  them !  "  said  Zherkof. 

"  I  am  not  jesting  with  you ;  be  good  enough  to  hold  your 
tongue !  "  cried  Bolkonsky,  and  taking  Nesvitsky  by  the  arm 
he  drew  him  away  from  Zherkof,  who  found  nothing  to  say. 

"  Well,  now,  what's  the  matter,  brother,  ?  "  asked  Nesvit- 
sky, in  a  soothing  tone. 

"  What's  the  matter  ?  "  repeated  Prince  Andrei,  pausing  in 
his  excitement.  "  Why  you  know  well  enough,  either  we  are 
officers  in  the  service  of  our  Tsar  and  our  country,  rejoicing  at 
our  common  success  and  grieving  over  our  common  failure,  or 
we  are  *  lackeys,'  who  have  no  interest  in  our  master's  concerns. 
Forty  thousand  men  massacred  and  the  army  of  our  allies  de- 
stroyed, and  still  you  find  it  something  to  laugh  at ! "  said  he, 
as  though  these  last  sentences,  which  were  spoken  in  French, 
added  to  the  effect  of  what  he  was  saying.  "It  is  well  enough 
for  a  trifler,  un  gar^an  de  rien,  like  that  fellow  whom  you  have 
made  your  friend.  Only  street  arabs  could  find  amusement  in 
such  things,"  said  Prince  Andrei,  suddenly  changing  to  Russian 
again,  but  pronouncing  the  Russian  word  for  street  arab  with  a 
Fnmch  accent.  Noticing  that  Zherkof  was  still  within  hearing, 
he  waited  to  see  if  the  cornet  had  any  answer  to  make.  But 
Zherkof  turned  away  and  left  the  corridor. 

*  Gott/  toienatvl 


{ 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  149 


CHAPTER    IV. 

The  Pavlograd  regiment  of  hussars  was  encamped  two  miles 
from  Braonau.  The  squadron  in  which  Nikolai  Kostof  served 
as  yunker,  was  quartered  in  the  German  village  of  Salzeneck. 
The  squadron  commander,  Captain  Denisof,  who  was  known 
to  the  entire  cavalry  division  as  Vaska  Denisof,  had  been  as- 
signed to  the  best  house  in  the  village.  Yunker  Rostof  had 
shared  the  captain's  quarters  ever  since  he  joined  the  regiment 
in  Poland. 

On  the  very  same  October  day,  when  at  headquarters  all  had 
been  thrown  into  excitement  by  the  news  of  Mack's  defeat, 
the  camp  life  of  the  squadron  was  going  on  in  its  usual  tran- 
quil course.  Denisof,  who  had  been  playing  a  losing  game  of 
cards  all  night  long,  had  not  yet  returned  to  his  rooms,  when 
Rostof,  early  in  the  morning  rode  up  on  horseback  from  his 
foraging  tour.  He  was  in  his  yunker  uniform,  and,  as  he  gal- 
loped up  to  the  doorstep  and  threw  over  his  leg  with  the  agile 
dexterity  of  youth,  he  paused  a  moment  in  the  stirrup,  as 
though  sorry  to  dismount,  but  at  last  sprung  lightly  from  the 
horse  and  called  the  orderly. 

"Hey!  Bondarenko,  my  dear  fellow,"  he  shouted  to  the 
hussar  who  hurried  forward  to  attend  to  the  horse.  "  Lead 
him  about  a  little,  my  friend,"  said  he,  with  that  fraternal  gen- 
iality with  which  handsome  young  men  are  apt  to  treat  every- 
body when  they  are  happy. 

"  I  will,  your  illustriousness,"  replied  the  little  Russian,  * 
gayly  shaking  his  head. 

"See  that  you  walk  him  about  well." 

Another  hussar  also  hastened  up  to  attend  to  the  horse,  but 
Bondarenko  had  already  taken  the  bridle.  It  was  evident  that 
the  yunker  gave  handsome  fees  and  that  it  was  a  pleasure  to 
serve  him.  Rostof  smoothed  the  horse's  neck,  then  his  flank, 
and  turned  and  looked  back  from  the  step. 

"Excellent !  He^ll  be  a  horse  worth  having  ! "  said  he  to 
himself,  and  then  smiling  and  picking  up  his  sabre  he  mounted 
the  steps  with  clinking  spurs. 

The  German  who  owned  the  house,  glanced  up  as  he  worked 
in  his  shirt-sleeves  and  nightcap,  pitching  over  manure  in  the 
cowhouse.  The  German's  face  always  lighted  at  the  sight  of 
Rostof.     He  gayly  smiled  and  winked :  "  Good  morning,  good 

*  KhokMf  literally  Topknot,  a  nickname  of  the  Malo-Bossian^* 


150  ^VAR  AND  PEACE, 

morning!"*  he  reiterated,  evidently  tsiking  great  satisfaction 
in  giving  the  young  man  his  morning  greeting. 

"  Busy  already,  schon  flelssig  ?  "  asked  Rostof,  with  the  same 
good-natured,  friendly  smile,  which  so  well  became  his  ani- 
mated face.  "  Hurrah  for  the  Austrians  !  hurrali  for  the  Rus- 
sians! hurrah  for  the  Kaiser  Alexander!"!  h©  shouted, 
repeating  the  words  which  his  German  host  was  fond  of  say- 
ing. The  German  laughed,  came  out  from  the  door  of  the 
cowhouse,  took  off  his  nightcap,  and  waving  it  over  his  head^ 
cried :  "  Hurrah  for  the  whole  world  —  Und  die  ganze  WeU 
hoch  !  " 

Rostof,  following  the  German's  example,  waved  his  forage 
cap  around  his  head,  and  with  a  merry  langh  shouted,-"  Und 
vivat  die  ganze  Welt !  —  Long  live  the  whole  world  ! " 

Although  there  was  no  special  reason  for  rejoicing,  either  on 
the  part  of  the  (xerman  who  was  engaged  in  pitching  manure, 
or  for  Rostof,  who  had  been  on  a  long  ride  with  his  men  after 
hay,  nevertheless  both  men  looked  at  each  other  with  joyous 
enthusiasm  and  brotherly  love,  nodded  their  heads  to  show 
that  they  understood  each  other,  and  then  separated  with  a 
smile,  the  German  to  his  cowhouse,  and  Rostof  to  the  cottage 
which  he  and  Denisof  shared  together. 

"  Where's  the  barin  ?  "  he  asked  of  Lavrushka,  Denisof  s 
rascally  valet,  who  was  known  to  the  whole  regiment. 

"  He  hasn't  been  in  since  evening.  Probably  been  losing  at 
cards,"  replied  Lavrushka.  "I  have  learned  that  if  he  has 
good  luck,  he  comes  in  early  and  in  high  spirits,  but  if  he  does 
not  got  in  before  morning,  it  means  he's  been  losing,  and  he'll 
come  in  mad  enough.     Will  you  have  coffee  ?  " 

"  Yes,  give  me  some." 

In  less  than  ten  minutes,  Lavrushka  brought  the  coffee. 
"  He's  coming,"  said  he,  "Now  we'll  get  it ! " 

Rostof  glanced  out  of  the  window  and  saw  Denisof  mean- 
dering home.  He  was  a  little  man,  with  a  red  face,  brilliant 
black  eyes,  and  dark  musttiche,  and  hair  all  in  disorder.  He 
wore  a  hussar's  pelisse  unbuttoned,  wide,  sagging  pantaloons, 
and  a  hussar's  cap  on  the  back  of  his  head.  He  came  up  the 
steps  in  a  gloomy  mood,  with  hanging  head. 

"  Lav'ushka,"  he  cried  in  a  loud,  surly  voice,  "  Here,  you 
blockhead  —  take  this  off ! "  ^ 

"  Don't  you  see  I  am  taking  it  off,"  replied  Lavruslika's 
voice. 

•  "  Schoenf  gid  morgen  !  Schoen^  gut  morgen  I  " 

t  "  Hoch  Oestreicher!  hoch  Bussen  !  Kaiser  AlexandeTf  hoch  !  " 


WAR  AND  PEACE,  151 

"  Ah,  you  are  up  alweady  ?  "  asked  Denisof,  as  he  came  into 
the  cottage. 

"  Long  ago  ! "  replied  Rostof^  "  I  have  been  after  hay  and  I 
saw  Fiaulein  Mathilde ! " 

"  So  ho  !  and  there  I  have  been,  bwother,  losing  howibly  all 
night,  like  a  son  of  a  dog  ! "  cried  Denisof,  slurring  over  his 
R's.  "  Such  howid  bad  luck  !  PefFectly  howid  !  The  moment 
you  left,  luck  changed.    Hey !  Tea ! " 

Denisof  snarled  with  a  sort  of  smile,  that  showed  his  short, 
sound  teeth,  and  began  to  run  the  short  lingers  of  both  hands 
through  his  thick,  blacji:  hair,  that  stood  up  like  a  forest. 

*•'  The  devil  himself  dwove  me  to  that  Wat "  (the  officer's 
nickname  was  the  Rat),  said  he,  rubbing  his  forehead  and  face 
with  both  hands.  "  Just  imagine  !  Didn't  have  a  single  cahd, 
not  one,  not  a  single  one  ! "  Denisof  took  out  the  pipe  which 
he  had  been  smoking,  knocked  the  ashes  into  his  palm,  and 
scattering  the  fire,  laid  it  upon  the  floor  and  went  on  shouting. 

"  Simple  stakes,  lose  the  doubles,  simple  stakes,  lose  tlie 
doubles."  After  he  had  scattered  the  fire,  he  broke  his  pipe 
in  two  and  flung  it  away.  Then,  after  a  silence,  he  suddenly 
looked  up  at  Rostof  with  his  bright,  black  eyes  full  of  merri- 
ment,— 

"  If  there  were  only  some  women  here.  But  here  there's 
nothing  to  do  but  dwink.  If  we  could  only  have  a  wound  of 
fighting  !  —  He  !  who's  there  ?  "  he  cried,  going  to  the  door, 
on  hearing  the  sound  of  heavy  boots  and  the  jingling  of  spurs 
in  the  next  room. 

"The  quartermaster,"  announced  Lavrushka.  Denisof 
frowned  still  more  portentously. 

"  Dwat  it,"  he  exclaimed,  flinging  his  friend  a  purse  contain- 
ing a  few  gold  pieces.  "  Wostof,  count  it,  chicken  !  see  how 
much  is  left,  then  hide  it  under  my  pillow,"  said  he,  and  went 
out  to  see  the  quartermaster. 

Rostof  took  the  money,  and  mechanically  making  little  heai)s 
of  the  new  and  old  coins,  according  to  their  denominations,  be- 
gan to  count  them. 

"  Ah  !  Telyanin  !  How  d'e  ?  Got  done  up  last  night !  " 
Denisof  was  heard  saying  in  the  next  room. 

"  Where  ?  At  Buikof 's  —  at  the  Rat's  —  I  heard  about  it," 
said  a  second,  thin  voice,  and  immediately  after,  Lieutenant 
Telyanin,  a  young  officer  of  the  same  squadron,  came  into  the 
room. 

Rostof  thrust  the  purse  under  the  pillow  and  pressed  the  little 
moist  band  that  was  held  out  to  him,  Telyanin  had  been  removed 


152  WAR  AND  PEACE, 

from  the  Guards,  shortly  before  the  campaign,  for  some  reason 
or  other.  He  now  conducted  himself  very  decently  in  the  reg- 
iment, but  he  was  not  liked,  and  Rostof ,  especially,  could  not  con- 
quer, or  even  conceal,  his  unreasonable  antipathy  to  this  officer. 

"  Well,  3'oung  cavalier,  how  does  my  Grachik  suit  you  ?  " 
(Grachik,  or  Young  Rook,  was  a  saddle  horse  that  Telyanin 
had  sold  Kostof).  The  lieutenant  never  looked  the  man  with 
whom  he  was  talking  straight  in  the  eye ;  his  eyes  were  con- 
stantly wandering  from  one  object  to  another.  '^I  saw  you 
riding  him  this  morning." 

'^  First  rate,  he's  a  good  horse,"  said  Rostof,  in  spite  of  the 
fact  that  the  animal  for  which  he  had  given  seven  hundred 
rubles,  was  worth  half  the  price  he  had  paid.  '^  He's  begun  to 
go  lame  of  the  left  foreleg."  * 

"  Hoof  cracked !  That's  nothing.  I  will  teach  you  or  show 
you  what  kind  of  a  rivet  to  put  on." 

"  Yes,  show  me  please,"  said  Rostof. 

"  I  will  show  you,  certainly  I  will ;  it's  no  secret.  And  you 
will  thank  me  for  the  horse." 

"  I'll  have  him  brought  right  round,"  said  Rostof,  anxious 
to  get  rid  of  Telyanin,  and  went  out  to  give  his  orders. 

In  the  entry,  Denisof,  with  a  pipe  in  his  mouth,  was  sitting 
cross-legged  on  the  threshold  in  front  of  the  quartermaster, 
who  was  making  his  report.  When  he  saw  Rostof,  Denisof 
made  up  a  face  and  pointing  with  his  thumb  over  his  shoulder 
into  the  room  where  Telyanin  was,  scowled  still  more  darkly, 
and  shuddered  with  aversion. 

"  Okh  !  I  don't  like  that  young  fellow,"  said  he,  undeterred 
by  the  quartermaster's  presence. 

Rostof  shrugged  his  shoulders,  as  much  as  to  say :  Nor  I, 
either,  but  what  is  to  be  done  about  it,  and  having  given  his 
orders,  returned  to  Telyanin. 

The  latter  was  still  sitting  in  the  same  indolent  position  in 
which  Rostof  had  left  him,  rubbing  his  small,  white  hands. 

"  What  repugnant  people  one  has  to  meet,"  said  Rostof  to 
himself,  as  he  went  into  the  room. 

"  Well,  did  you  order  the  horse  brought  round  ?  "  asked  Tel- 
yanin, getting  up  and  carelessly  looking  around. 

"  I  did." 

'^  Come  on,  then.  I  just  ran  over  to  ask  Denisof  about  to- 
day's orders ;  that  was  all.     Have  they  come  yet,  Denisof  ?  " 

"  Not  yet.     Where  are  you  going  ?  " 

"  Oh,  1  am  just  going  to  show  this  young  man  how  to  shoe 
his  horse,"  replied  Telyanin, 


WAR  AND  PEACE,  168 

They  went  out  down  the  front  steps  to  the  stable.  The 
lieutenant  showed  Rostof  how  to  make  a  rivet,  and  then  went 
home. 

When  Eostof  returned,  he  found  Denisof  sitting  at  the  table 
with  a  bottle  of  vodka  and  a  sausage  before  him,  and  writing 
with  a  sputtering  pen.  He  looked  gloomily  into  Rostof 's  face. 
"  I'm  w'iting  to  her,"  said  he.  He  leaned  his  elbow  on  the 
table,  with  the  pen  in  his  hand,  and  told  to  his  friend  what 
his  letter  was  to  be,  evidently  taking  real  delight  in  the  chance 
of  saying  faster  than  he  could  write  all  that  he  had  in  his 
mind  to  put  on  the  paper. 

"  Do  you  see,  my  f w'iend,"  said  he  "  We  are  asleep  when  we 
are  not  in  love.  We  are  child w'en  of  the  dust ;  but  when  you 
are  in  love,  then  you  are  like  God,  you  are  as  pure  as  on  the  first 
day  of  kweation.  — Who  is  there  ?  Send  him  to  the  devil.  I 
have  no  time  ! "  he  cried  to  Lavrushka,  who  came  up  to  him, 
not  in  the  least  abashed, 

*'  What  can  I  do  ?  It's  your  own  order.  It's  the  quarter- 
master come  back  for  the  money." 

Denisof  scowled,  opened  his  mouth  to  shout  something,  but 
made  no  sound. 

*'  Nasty  job,"  he  muttered  to  himself.  "  How  much  money 
was  there  left  in  that  purse  ?  "  he  asked  of  Rostof. 

"  Seven  new  pieces  and  three  old  ones." 

" Akh,  d'wat  it !  —  Well,  what  are  you  standing  there  for  like 
a  booby,  fetch  in  the  quartermaster,"  cried  Denisof  to  La- 
vrushka. 

"  Please,  Denisof,  take  some  of  my  money ;  you  see  I  have 
plenty,"  said  Rostof,  reddening. 

"I  don't  like  to  bo'wow  of  my  fw'iends,  I  don't  like  it,"  de- 
clared Denisof. 

"  But  if  you  don't  let  me  lend  you  money,  comrade  fashion, 
I  shall  be  offended  !  "  insisted  Rostof.  "  Truly,  I  have 
plenty." 

"  No  indeed,  I  shan't,"  and  Denisof  went  to  the  bed  to  get 
the  purse  from  under  the  pillow. 

"  Where  did  you  put  it,  W'ostof  ?  " 

"Under  the  bottom  pillow." 

"  It  isn't  here."  Denisof  flung  both  pillows  on  the  floor. 
There  was  no  purse  there.     "  That's  stwange." 

"  Hold  on,  didn't  you  throw  it  out  ?  "  asked  Rostof,  picking 
up  the  pillows  and  shaking  them,  and  then  hauling  o£E  the  bed- 
clothes and  shaking  them.     But  there  was  no  purse. 

"  I  could  not  have  forgotten  it,  could  I  ?     No,  I  remember 


154  WAR  AND  PEACE, 

yeiy  well  thinking  how  jon  kept  it  like  a  treasure  trove,  under 
your  pillow. — Where  is  it?''  he  demanded,  turning  to  La- 
Yrushka. 

''  I  haven *t  been  into  the  room.  It  must  be  where  you  put 
it/' 

"  But  it  isn't." 

"  That  is  always  the  way  with  you.  You  throw  it  down  and 
then  forget  all  about  it.     Look  in  your  pockets." 

"  No,  if  I  had  not  thought  about  the  treasure  trove  "  —  said 
Rostof,  ''  and  I  remember  putting  it  there." 

Lavrushka  tore  the  whole  bed  apart,  looked  under  it,  under 
the  table,  searched  everywhere  in  the  room  and  then  stood  still 
in  the  middle  of  the  room.  Deuisof  silently  followed  all  his 
motions  and  when  lavrushka  in  amazement  spread  opeu  his 
hands,  he  glanced  at  Rostof.  **  W'ostof,  stop  your  schoolboy 
twicks  "  — 

Bostof,  conscious  of  Denisofs  gaze  fixed  upon  him,  raised 
his  eyes  and  instantly  dropped  them  again.  The  blood,  till 
then  contained  somewhere  below  his  throat,  rushed  in  an  over- 
mastering flood  into  his  face  and  eyes.  He  could  not  get  a 
breath. 

'^  There  has  been  no  one  in  the  room  except  the  lieutenant 
and  yourselves.     It's  nowhere  to  be  found,"  said  Lavrushka. 

'•Now  you  devil's  puppet,  fly  awound,  hunt  for  it,"  suddenly 
cried  Denisof,  growing  livid,  and  starting  toward  the  valet  with 
a  threatening  gesture.  "Find  me  that  purse  or  I'll  horse- 
whip you !  I'll  horsewhip  you  all ! " 

Bostof,  avoiding  Denisofs  glance  began  to  button  up  his 
jacket,  adjusted  his  sabre  and  put  on  his  cap. 

"  I  tell  you,  give  me  that  purse,"  cried  Denisof,  shaking  his 
man  by  the  shoulders  and  pushing  him  against  the  wall. 

"  Denisof,  let  him  go,  I  know  who  took  it,"  said  Bostof,  going 
toward  the  door  and  not  lifting  his  eyes. 

Denisof  paused,  considered  a  moment  and  evidently  perceiv- 
ing whom  Bostof  meant,  he  seized  him  by  the  arm.  "  Wub- 
bish ! "  he  cried,  the  veins  on  his  face  and  neck  standing  out 
like  cords.  "I  tell  you,  you  are  beside  yourself  and  I  won't 
have  it.  The  purse  is  here,  I'll  take  the  hide  off  this  waskel 
and  I'll  get  it." 

"  I  know  who  took  it,"  repeated  Bostof,  in  a  trembling  voice, 
and  went  to  the  door. 

"  But  I  tell  you,  don't  you  dare  to  do  it ! "  cried  Denisof, 
throwing  himself  on  the  yunker,  to  hold  him  back.  But  Bostof 
freed  his  arm;  and  with  as  much  anger  as  though  Denisof  were 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  165 

his  worst  enemy  gave  him  a  direct  and  heavy  blow  right  be- 
tween the  eyes. 

"Do  you  realize  what  you  are  saying/'  he  cried,  in  a  trem- 
bling voice.  "  He  is  the  only  person  beside  myself  who  has 
been  in  the  room.     Of  course  if  it  was  not  he,  then  "  — 

He  could  not  finish  and  rushed  from  the  room. 

"  Akh !  the  devil  take  you  and  all  the  w'est,"  were  the  last 
words  that  Eostof  caught. 

He  went  straight  to  Telyanin's  rooms. 

"  My  barin's  not  at  home  ;  he  went  to  headquarters,"  said 
Telyanin's  man.  **  Why,  has  anything  happened  ?  "  he  added, 
surprised  at  the  yunker's  distorted  face. 

«  No,  nothing ! " 

"  You  just  missed  him  "  said  the  man. 

Headquarters  were  three  versts  *  from  Salzeneck.  Rostof , 
without  returning  home,  took  a  horse  and  galloped  off  to  head- 
quarters. In  the  village  occupied  by  the  staff  was  a  tavern 
where  the  officers  resorted.  Rostof  went  to  this  tavern ;  at  the 
doorsteps  he  saw  Talyanin's  horse. 

The  lieutenant  himself  was  sitting  in  the  second  room  of  the 
tavern  with  a  plate  of  sausages  and  a  bottle  of  wine. 

"  Aha !  so  you  have  come  too,  young  man  "  said  he  smiling 
and  lifting  his  brows. 

"  Yes  "  said  Rostof,  though  it  required  the  greatest  effort  to 
speak  this  monosyllable,  and  he  took  his  seat  at  the  next  table. 

Neither  said  more ;  two  Germans  and  a  Russian  officer  were 
the  other  occupants  of  the  room.  No  one  was  talking  and  the 
only  sounds  were  the  rattle  of  knives  and  forks  and  the  lieu- 
tenant's munching. 

When  Telyanin  had  finished  his  breakfast,  he  pulled  out  of 
his  pocket  a  double  purse,  and  with  his  delicate  white  fingers 
which  turned  up  at  the  ends,  slipped  up  the  ring,  took  out  a 
gold  piece,  and  lifting  his  brows,  gave  it  to  the  waiter, 

"  Please  make  haste,"  said  he. 

The  gold  piece  was  new.  Rostof  got  up  and  went  to 
Telyanin. 

"  Allow  me  to  look  at  your  purse,"  said  he,  in  a  quiet,  almost 
inaudible  voice. 

With  wandering  eyes  and  still  lifted  brows,  Telyanin  handed 
him  the  purse. 

"  Yes,  it's  a  handsome  little  purse,  isn't  it  ?  —  Yes  " —  said  he 
and  suddenly    turned  pale.     "Look   at  it,    youngster,"   he 

added. 

*  A  vent  is  3,500  feet,  1,067  kilometers. 


156  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

Bostof  took  the  purse  into  his  hand  and  looked  at  it  and  at 
the  money  that  was  in  it  and  at  Telyanin.  The  lieutenant 
glanced  around  in  his  usual  way,  and  apparently  became 
suddenly  very  merry. 

"  If  we  ever  get  to  Vienna  I  shall  leave  all  this  there,  but 
there's  nothing  to  get  with  it  in  these  filthy  little  towns  "  said 
he.     "  Well,  give  it  back  to  me,  youngster,  1  must  be  going." 

Rostof  said  nothing. 

"And  you?  Aren't  you  going  to  have  some  breakfast. 
Pretty  good  fare,"  continued  Telyanin.  "  Give  it  to  me." 

He  stretched  out  his  hand  and  took  hold  of  the  purse. 
Rostof  let  it  go.  Telyanin  took  the  purse  and  began  to  let 
it  slip  into  the  pocket  of  his  riding  trousers  and  bis  brows 
went  up  higher  than  usual,  and  his  mouth  slightly  parted 
as  much  as  to  say :  "  Yes,  yes,  I  will  put  my  purse  in  my 
pocket,  and  it  is  a  very  simple  matter,  and  it  is  no  one's  busi- 
ness at  all." 

"  Well,  what  is  it,  youngster,"  said  he,  sighing  and  glancing 
into  RostoFs  eyes  from  under  his  raised  brows.  Something 
like  a  swift  electric  flash  darted  from  Telyanin's  eyes  into 
Rostofs  and  was  darted  back  again  aud  again  and  again  all  in 
a  single  instant. 

"  Come  here  with  me,"  said  Rostof,  taking  Telyanin  by  the 
arm.  He  drew  him  almost  to  the  window.  "  This  money  is 
Denisofs !     You  took  it "  he  whispered  in  his  ear. 

"What?  — What?  — How  do  you  dare?  — What?"  ex- 
claimed Telyanin.  But  his  words  sounded  like  a  mournful  cry 
of  despair  and  a  prayer  for  forgiveness.  As  soon  as  Rostof 
heard  this  note  in  his  voice  it  seemed  as, though  a  great  stone 
of  doubt  had  fallen  from  his  heart.  He  was  rejoiced  and  at 
the  same  time  felt  sincere  pity  for  the  unhappy  man  standing' 
before  him,  but  he  was  obliged  to  carry  the  matter  to  the  end. 
"There  are  men  here ;  God  knows  what  they  will  think,"  stam- 
mered Telyanin,  seizing  his  cap  and  starting  for  a  small  unoccu- 
pied room.     "  We  must  have  an  explanation  "  — 

"  I  know  this  and  can  prove  it,"  said  Rostof. 

a  J  J> 

All  the  muscles  of  Telyanin's  scared  pale  face  began  to  trem- 
ble, his  eyes  kept  wandering,  though  they  were  fixed  on  the 
floor,  and  never  once  raised  to  Rostofs,  and  something  like  a 
sob  was  heard. 

"  Count !  —  Don't  ruin  a  young  fellow.  Here's  that 
wretched  money,  take  it."  He  threw  it  on  the  table,  "  1  have 
a  father  who's  an  old  man  j  I  have  a  mother !  " 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  167 

Kostof  took  the  money,  avoiding  Telyanin's  gaze  and,  not 
saying  a  word,  started  to  leave  the  room.  But  at  the  door  he 
paused  and  turned  hack,  "  My  God ! "  said  he,  with  tears  in 
his  eyes ;  "  how  could  you  have  done  it  ? '' 

"Count!"  said  Telyanin,  coming  towards  the  yunker. 

"Don't  touch  me,"  cried  Bostof,  drawing  himself  up.  "  If  you 
need  this  money,  take  it."  He  tossed  him  the  purse,  and  hur- 
ried out  of  the  tavern. 


CHAPTER  V. 

Ox  the  evening  of  the  same  day,  a  lively  discussion  took 
place  in  Denisof 's  rooms  between  some  of  the  officers  of  the 
squadron. 

"  But  I  tell  you,  Eostof ,  that  it's  your  business  to  apologize  to 
the  regimental  commander,"  said  the  second  captain,  a  tall 
man,  with  grayish  hair,  enormous  mustache,  and  powerful 
wrinkled  features. 

Captain  Kirsten  had  twice  been  reduced  to  the  ranks  for 
"  affairs  of  honor,"  and  twice  promoted  again. 

"  I  will  not  allow  any  one  to  call  me  a  liar,"  cried  Rostof, 
who  flushed  crimson  and  was  in  a  great  state  of  excitement. 
"  He  told  me  that  I  lied,  and  I  told  him  that  he  lied.  And 
there  the  matter  rests.  He  may  keep  me  on  duty  every  day ; 
he  may  put  me  xmder  arrest,  but  neither  he  nor  any  one  else 
can  force  me  to  apologize.  If  he,  as  regimental  commander, 
considers  it  improper  to  give  me  satisfaction,  then  "  — 

"  Yes,  yes,  calm  yourself,  batyushka,  listen  to  me,"  inter- 
rupted Captain  Kirsten,  in  his  deep,  bass  voice,  calmly  twirl- 
ing his  mustaches.  "  You  told  the  regimental  commander,  in 
the  presence  of  other  officers,  that  an  officer  had  stolen  "  — 

"  It  wasn't  my  fault  that  the  conversation  took  place  before 
other  officers.  Maybe,  it  was  not  best  to  have  spoken  before 
them,  but  I  am  not  a  diplomat.  That's  why  I  joined  the  Hus- 
sars ;  1  thought  that  here,  at  least,  such  fine  distinctions  were 
not  necessary,  and  he  told  me  that  I  lied :  let  him  give  me  sat- 
isfaction, then." 

"That's  all  very  good;  no  one  thinks  that  you  are  a  coward, 
but  that  isn't  the  point.  Ask  Denisof — put  it  to  any  one  — 
if  a  yunker  can  demand  satisfaction  of  his  regimental  com- 
mander ?  " 

Denisof,  chewing  his  mustache,  was  listening  to  the  discus- 
sion with  a  gloomy  expression  of  eounteimneo^  evidently  not 


158  ^'-^^  A^J>  PEACE. 

wishing  to  take  any  part  in  iL  In  reply  to  the  captain's  ques- 
tion,  he  shook  his  head. 

"  In  the  presence  of  other  officers,  you  spoke  to  the  regi- 
mental commander  about  this  rascality,**  continued  the  second 
captain.  '^  Bogdanuitch  *  (so  the  regimental  commander  was 
called),  Bogadannitch  shut  you  up." 

'^  He  did  not  shut  me  up :  he  told  me  that  I  was  lying." 

"  Well,  have  it  so,  but  you  were  saying  foolish  things  to  him 
and  you  ought  to  apologize." 

"  Not  for  the  world  I "  cried  Rostof. 

'^  I  did  not  think  that  of  you,"  said  the  captain,  seriously 
and  sternly.  "  You  are  unwilling  to  apologize,  and  yet,  bat- 
yushka,  you  are  in  fault,  not  only  towards  him  but  towards  the 
whole  regiment,  towards  all  of  us.  This  is  the  way  of  it :  if 
you  had  only  thought,  if  you  had  Only  taken  advice  as  to  how 
to  move  in  this  matter,  but  no ;  you  out  with  it,  —  right  before 
other  officers,  too.  Well,  then,  what  can  the  regimental  com- 
mander do  ?  Must  he  bring  the  officer  before  a  court-martial 
and  disgrace  the  whole  regiment  ?  Insult  the  whole  regiment 
on  account  of  a  single  rogue  ?  Is  that  your  idea  of  it  ?  Well, 
it  isn't  ours  !  And  Bogdanuitch  was  a  brave  fellow :  he  told 
you  that  you  were  not  telling  the  truth.  Disagreeable,  but 
what  else  could  he  do  ?  You  found  your  match.  And  now, 
when  we  want  to  hush  it  up,  you  —  out  of  sheer  obstinacy  and 
pride  — aren't  willing  to  apologize,  but  want  to  have  everybody 
know  about  it.  You  are  offended  because  you  are  put  on  extra 
duty,  because  you  are  required  to  apologize  to  an  old  and  hon- 
ored officer  !  Even  if  it  were  not  Bogdanuitch,  our  honorable 
and  brave  old  colonel,  even  then  you  would  be  offended  and 
would  be  willing  to  insult  the  whole  regiment,  would  you  ?  " 
The  captain's  voice  began  to  tremble.  "  Yes,  batyushka,  you, 
who  will  perhaps  not  be  in  the  regiment  a  year  from  now,  to- 
day here,  to-morrow  transferred  somewhere  as  adjutant,  you 
don't  care  a  fig  if  it  is  said :  thieves  in  the  Pavlograd  regiment. 
But  it  isn't  all  the  same  to  us.  What  do  you  say,  Denisof  ? 
It  isn't  a  matter  of  indifference,  is  it  ?  " 

Denisof  had  kept  silent  all  the  time,  and  did  not  move, 
though  he  occasionally  glanced  at  Bostof  from  his  brilliant 
black  eyes. 

"  Your  pride  is  so  dear  to  you  that  you  aren't  willing  t<» 
apologize,"  continued  the  captain.     "  We  old  men  who  have 

*  Karl  Bo^danovitch  Schabert,  sportively  called  in  imitation  of  peasant 
uiiage,  by  the  diminiBhed  form  of  the  patronymic,  Bogdanuitch,  son  of  Bogdaa 
(Deodat  or  Tlicodore). 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  169 

grown  up  and  are  going  to  die,  if  God  grant,  in  the  regiment, 
guard  its  honor  dearly,  and  Bogdanuitch  knows  it.  Oh !  how 
we  love  it,  batynshka !  And  this  is  not  good  of  you,  not  good 
at  all !  Get  mad  if  you  please,  but  I  shall  always  stick  to 
mother  truth.     You're  all  wrong." 

And  the  captain  got  up  and  turned  his  back  on  Kostof. 

"Wight!  Devil  take  it!"  screamed  Denisof,  jumping  up, 
'*  Now  then,  W'ostof ,  now  then ! " 

Bostof,  flushing  and  turning  pale,  looked  first  at  one  and 
then  at  the  other  officer. 

"No,  gentlemen;  no,  you  do  not  think.  —  I  see  that  you 
are  perfectly  mistaken  in  your  opinion  of  me ;  I,  —  for  my 
own  sake,  for  the  honor  of  the  regiment  —  what  am  I  saying  ? 
And  I  will  prove  it;  yes,  for  my  own  sake  and  the  honor 
of  the  regiment.  —  Well,  it's  all  the  same,  you're  right,  I 
was  to  blame  ! "  Tears  stood  in  his  eyes.  "  I  was  to  blame, 
to  blame  all  round.     Now  what  more  do  you  want  ?  " 

"  That's  the  way  to  do  it,"  cried  the  captain,  turning  round 
and  slapping  him  on  the  shoulder  with  his  big  hand. 

"  I  tell  you ! "  cried  Denisof,  "  he's  a  glow'ious  young  fellow ! " 

"  That's  the  best  way,  count,"  repeated  the  captain,  as  though 
the  giving  him  his  title  made  his  w^ds  more  emphatic.  "  Go 
and  apologize,  your  illustriousness,  that's  it." 

"  Gentlemen,  I  will  do  anything.  No  one  shall  ever  hear 
another  word  from  me,"  declared  Rostof,  in  a  low,  supplicat- 
ing voice,  "  but  I  cannot  apologize,  by  heavens,  I  cannot !  how 
can  you  expect  it  ?  How  can  I  apologize  like  a  little  school- 
boy, begging  forgiveness  ?  " 

Denisof  laughed. 

"  So  much  the  worse  for  you.  Bogdanuitch  is  spiteful.  You 
will  pay  for  your  stubbornness,"  said  Kirsten. 

"  By  God  !  'tis  not  stubbornness !  I  cannot  describe  every 
feeling  for  you,  I  assure  you,  I  cannot." 

"Well,  do  just  as  you  please,"  said  the  captain.  "By  the 
way,  where  is  this  worthless  scamp  ?  "  asked  he,  of  Denisof. 

"  He  w'eported  himself  ill.  He's  to  be  stw'uck  off  the  list  in 
to-mowow's  orders,"  replied  Denisof. 

"  Well,  it's  a  kind  of  illness,  there's  no  other  way  of  explain- 
ing it,"  said  the  captain. 

"  Whether  illness  or  not,  he'd  better  not  come  into  my  sight, 
I'd  kill  him,"  cried  Denisof,  in  a  most  bloodthirsty  manner. 

At  this  instant,  Zherkof  came  into  the  room. 

"  What  are  you  doing  here  ?  "  demanded  the  officer,  turn- 
mg  to  the  new  comer. 


160  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

"  An  ezpeditioiiy  gentlemen.  Mack  and  bis  army  have  sur- 
rendered :  it's  all  ap  with  them.'' 

"  What  a  story ! " 

"  I  saw  him  myself." 

"  What !  you  saw  Mack  alive  —  with  his  hands  and  his 
feet  ?  " 

"  An  expedition  !  an  expedition !  give  him  a  bottle,  for  bring- 
ing such  news  !  —  But  how  came  you  here  ?  " 

''I  am  sent  back  to  my  regiment  on  account  of  that  devil 
of  a  Mack !  The  Austrian  general  complained  of  me.  I  con- 
gratulated him  on  Mack's  arrival.  How  are  you,  Rostof  ? 
just  out  of  a  bath  ?  " 

"  My  dear  boy,  we've  been  having  such  a  stew  here,  these 
two  days ! " 

The  regimental  adjutant  came  in  and  confirmed  the  news 
brought  by  Zherkof  .  The  regiment  was  ordered  to  break  camp 
the  next  day. 

"  An  expedition,  gentlemen." 

"  Well,  glory  to  God  for  that,  no  more  inaction." 


ClfAPTER  VI. 

KuTuzop  was  retreating  toward  Vienna,  destroying  the  bridges 
behind  him  over  the  river  Inn  (at  Braunau),  and  over  the 
river  Traun  at  Linz.  On  the  fourth  of  November,  the  Russian 
army  were  crossin|»  the  river  Enns.  At  noon,  the  baggage- 
wagons,  the  artillery,  and  the  columns  of  the  army,  stretched 
through  the  city  of  Enns,  on  both  sides  of  the  river.  It  was 
a  mild  autumnal  day,  but  showery.  The  wide  prospect, 
commanded  by  the  height  where  stood  the  Russian  bat- 
teries protecting  the  bridge,  was  now  suddenly  veiled  by  a 
muslin-like  curtain  of  slanting  rain,  then  again  was  suddenly 
still  further  broadened  so  that  distant  objects  stood  out 
distinctly,  gleaming  in  the  sunlight  as  though  they  were 
varnished. 

At  their  feet  lay  the  little  city,  with  its  white  houses  and 
red  roofs,  its  cathedral,  and  the  bridge,  on  both  ends  of  which 
the  Russian  troops  could  be  seen,  pouring  along  in  dense  masses. 
Down  the  bend  of  the  Danube,  where  it  was  joitied  by  the  waters 
of  the  Enns,  could  be  seen  boats  and  an  island  with  a  castle  and 
park ;  farther  still,  was  the  left  bank  of  the  river,  with  bold  rocks 
and  overgrown  with  evergreens,  while  in  the  mysterious  dis- 


WAR  AND  PEACn.  161 

tance  arose  green  jnountains  with  deep  ravines.  The  turrets 
of  a  monastery  stood  out  above  the  wild  and  apparently  im- 
penetrable pine  forest,  and  far  away,  on  a  height  in  front,  on 
the  same  side  of  the  river  Enns,  the  enemy's  scouts  could  be 
discerned. 

On  the  brow  of  the  hill,  among  the  field-pieces,  stood  the 
general  in  command  of  the  rearguard,  with  an  officer  of  his 
saite,  making  observations  of  the  landscape  with  a  glass.  A 
little  behind  them,  astride  of  a  gun  carriage,  sat  Nesvitsky, 
who  had  been  sent  to  the  rearguard  by  the  commander-in-chief. 
The  Cossack  who  accompanied  him  was  handing  out  a  lunch- 
bag  and  flask,  and  Kesvitsky  was  inviting  the  officers  to  share 
his  little  pies  and  genuine  doppel-kilmmel.  The  officers  gayly 
crowded  around  him,  some  on  their  knees,  some  sitting  Turk- 
ish fashion,  on  the  wet  grass.  * 

"  Certainly  that  Austrian  prince  was  no  fool  in  building  his 
castle  there.  Glorious  place !  —  You  are  not  eating  anything, 
gentlemen,"  said  Nesvitsky. 

"  Thank  you  cordially,  prince,"  returned  one  of  the  officers, 
glad  of  the  chance  to  exchange  a  word  with  such  an  important 
member  of  Kutuzof's  suite.  "  Yes,  it's  a  splendid  place.  We 
went  by  that  very  park,  saw  a  couple  of  deer  —  and  it's  a  mag- 
nificent house  ! " 

"  Look,  prince,"  said  another,  who  would  very  gladly  have 
accepted  another  pie,  but  was  ashamed  to  do  so,  and  was,  tliere- 
fore,  pretending  to  examine  the  landscape.  "Look  yonder, 
our  infantry  have  got  in  already.  Look  there,  on  that  meadow, 
behind  the  village,  three  men  are  dragging  something  along. 
They'll  clear  out  that  little  place,  quick  enough  !  "  said  he,  with 
evident  approval. 

"  Yes,  that's  so,"  said  Nesvitsky.  "  Ah  I  but  what  I  should 
like,"  he  added,  stuffing  a  pie  into  his  handsome  moist  mouth, 
**  I  should  like  to  get  in  yonder ! " 

He  pointed  to  the  turreted  convent  which  could  be  seen  on  the 
mountain-side.  He  smiled,  and  his  eyes  contracted  and  flashed. 
"That  would  be  some  fun,  gentlemen ! "  —  the  officers  laughed 
—  "  How  I  should  like  to  frighten  those  little  nuns  !  Italians, 
they  say,  and  some  of  them  young  and  pretty.  Truly,  I  would 
give  live  years  of  my  life  !  " 

"  And  they  say  they  find  it  a  bore,"  said  an  officer,  bolder 
than  the  rest,  with  a  laugh. 

Meantime,  the  officer  of  the  suite,  standing  on  the  brow  of 
the  hill,  was  pointing  out  something  to  the  general,  who  scruti- 
nized it  with  his  fieldglass. 

VOL.  1.— 11. 


\ 

V 


162  V^AR   AND  PEACE. 

"  Yes,  that  is  so,  that  is  so,"  said  the  general,  gravely,  tak- 
ing the  glass  from  his  eye  and  shrugging  his  shoulders,  "  You 
are  right,  they  are  going  to  fire  at  them  as  they  cross  the  river. 
Why  do  they  dawdle  so  ? 

In  that  direction,  even  with  the  naked  eye,  could  be  seen  the 
enemy  and  his  battery,  from  which  arose  a  milk-white  puff  of 
smoke,  immediately  followed  by  the  distant  report,  and  it  could 
be  seen  how  the  Russian  troops  were  hastening  to  get  across 
the  river. 

Nesvitsky  dismounted  from  the  cannon  and,  with  a  smile, 
went  up  to  the  general :  "  Wouldn't  your  excellency  like  to 
have  a  bite  of  luncheon  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  It's  all  wrong,"  said  the  general,  not  answering  him,  "  Our 
men  are  so  slow." 

"  Shall  I  not  go  dbwn  to  them,  your  excellency  ?  "  asked 
Nesvitsky. 

"  Yes,  do  go  down,  please,"  replied  the  general,  reiterating 
the  orders  that  he  had  already  given.  "  And  tell  the  hussars 
to  cross  last  and  burn  the  bridge,  as  I  ordered,  and  see  to  it 
that  no  combustible  materials  are  left  in  it." 

"  Very  good,"  said  Nesvitsky. 

He  called  the  Cossack  to  bring  up  the  horses,  bade  him  pack 
up  the  bag  and  flask,  and  lightly  swung  his  heavy  body  into 
the  saddle. 

"Truly,  I'm  going  to  that  nuunery,"  said  he  to  the  officers 
who  were  looking  at  him  with  a  smile,  and  then  galloped  off 
down  the  path  that  skirted  the  hill. 

"  Now,  then,  try  if  you  can  reach  them  —  take  good  aim, 
captain,"  said  the  general,  turning  to  the  officer.  "You'll 
relieve  the  monotony  by  a  little  fun." 

"  Serve  the  guns,"  commanded  the  officer,  and  in  a  minute 
the  gunners  were  running  with  a  will  from  their  bivouac  fires, 
and  beginning  to  load. 

"  Number  one  "  rang  the  command. 

"  Number  one  '*  rushed  spitefully  away.  With  a  deafening 
metallic  ring,  the  cannon  resounded  and  the  whizzing  shell  flew 
far  away  over  the  head  of  the  Russians  in  the  valley,  and  then 
a  spirt  of  smoke  showed  where  it  had  fallen  and  burst  long 
before  it  reached  the  enemy. 

The  faces  of  officers  and  men  grew  radiant  at  this  report ;  all 
leaped  to  their  feet  and  watched  with  intense  curiosity  the 
motions  of  their  troops  in  the  valley  below  them,  and  the 
approach  of  the  enemy,  all  spread  out  before  them  "as  on 
the  palm  of  the  hand." 


War  and  peace,  163 

At  the  moment  the  gun  had  been  fired^  the  snn'  came  out 
entirely  from  under  the  clouds,  and  the  report  of  the  cannon  and 
the  brilliancy  of  the  sun  mingled  in  one  single  martial  and 
joyous  impression. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

Two  of  the  enemy's  shots  had  already  been  fired  at  the  men 
as  they  crossed  the  river,  and  on  the  bridge  there  was  a  jam. 
Half  way  across  stood  Prince  Nesvitsky,  who  had  dismounted 
from  his  horse  and  was  leaning  with  his  stout  body  against 
the  parapet.  Laughing,  lie  looked  back  at  his  Cossack,  who 
stood  a  short  distance  behind  him  holding  the  bridles  of  their 
two  horses.  As  soon  as  Prince  Nesvitsky  tried  to  force  his 
way  forward,  the  throng  of  soldiers  and  baggage  wagons 
crowded  him  and  forced  him  up  against  the  parapet,  and 
nothing  was  left  for  him  but  to  wait. 

**'  Look  out  there,  my  boy  ! "  cried  the  Cossack  to  a  soldier 
who  was  driving  a  baggage  wagon  and  forcing  his  way  right 
into  the  infantry,  as  they  thronged  under  the  horses '  feet  and 
among  the  wheels.  "  Look  out  there !  Have  a  little  patience, 
don't  you  see  the  general  wants  to  pass  ?  "  But  the  driver, 
paying  no  heed  to  the  title  of  general,  only  cried  to  the  soldiers 
who  blocked  his  way:  "Hey  there;  boys!  keep  to  the  left, 
hold  on ! " 

But  the  boys,  crowding  shoulder  to  shoulder,  and  locking 
bayonets,  moved  on  across  the  bridge  in  one  unbroken  mass. 

As  Nesvitsky  looked  down  over  the  parapet,  he  could  see  the 
swift  babbling  ripples  of  the  Enns  chase  each  other  along  as 
they  bubbled,  curled,  and  foamed  around  the  piers  of  the  bridge. 
Looking  at  the  bridge  he  saw  the  almost  incessant .  living 
waves  of  soldiery,  tassels,  shakos  with  covers,  knapsacks, 
bayonets,  and  muskets,  and  under  the  shakos,  faces  with  high 
cheek  bones,  sunken  cheeks,  and  careless,  weary  eyes,  and  legs 
trampling  through  the  mud  which  covered  the  planks  of  the 
bridge. 

Sometimes  among  the  monotonous  waves  of  the  infantry, 
like  a  spurt  of  white  foam  on  the  ripples  of  the  river,  an  officer 
in  riding  cloak  would  force  his  waj''  through,  his  face  notice- 
able for  its  refinement  in  contrast  to  the  men.  Then  again 
like  a  chip  borne  along  on  the  river,  a  hussar  on  foot,  an  officer, 
a  denshchik,  or  a  civilian,  would  be  carried  across  the  bridge 
by  the  tide  of  troops,  and  sometimes,  like  a  log  floating  down 


164  ^AR  AND  PEACE. 

stream,  an  officer's  company,  or  baggage  wagon  loaded  to  the 
top  and  covered  with  leather,  would  roll  across  the  bridge,  sub- 
merged in  the  throng. 

"  See,  it's  like  a  freshet  breaking  through  a  dyke  "  said  the 
Cossack,  hopelessly  blocked.  '^  Say !  are  there  many  more  of 
you  to  come  ?  " 

"A  million,  minus  one,"  replied  a  jolly  soldier  in  a  torn 
overcoat,  winkmg  as  he  passed.  In  an  instant  he  was  carried 
by ;  behind  him  came  an  old  soldier :  —  "  When  he  (hCy  that 
is  the  enemy)  takes  to  making  it  liot  for  us  on  the  bridge," 
said  the  old  soldier  glumly,  in  his  Tambof  diiilect,  addressing 
a  comrade,  "  we  shan't  stop  to  scratch  ourselves."  And  the 
Tambof  soldier  and  his  comrade  passed  beyond. 

Following  them,  oanie  a  soldier  riding  on  a  baggage  wa^on. 

"Where  the  devil  did  I  put  my  leg  wrappers  ?  "  exclaimed 
a  denshehik,  hurrying  behind  the  wagon  and  rummaging  into 
the  rear  of  it.  And  he  in  turn  was  borne  past  with  the 
wagon. 

Behind  them  came  a  jovial  band  of  soldiers,  who  had  evi- 
dently been  drinking.  "  My  dear  fellow,  he  hit  him  with  the 
but  end  of  his  gun,  right  in  the  teeth,"  gayly  said  one  of  the 
soldiers,  who  wore  the  collar  of  his  overcoat  turned  up  and  was 
eagerly  gesticulating. 

"  Good  for  him,  a  regular  milksop ! "  *  said  the  other  with  a 
loud  laugh.  And  they  too  passed  by.  So  that  Nesvitsky  did 
not  find  out  who  was  struck  in  the  teeth  and  to  whom  the 
epithet  applied. 

"  Bah  !  they're  in  such  a  hurry !  Because  he  tired  a  blank 
cartridge  one  would  think  they  were  all  in  danger  of  being 
killed,"  said  a  non-commissioned  officer,  in  an  angiy,  reproach- 
ful tone. 

"When  it  flew  by  me — that  round  shot,"  said  a  young 
soldier  with  a  monstrous  mouth,  "  I  thought  I  was  dead.  Fact ! 
I  was  that  frightened,  by  God,"  added  the  soldier,  scarcely 
restraining  himself  from  laughing  outright  with  pleasure  at 
the  thought  of  being  so  frightened.     And  he  too  passed  on.       ' 

Behind  him  came  a  vehicle  unlike  any  that  had  passed  so  far. 
This  was  a  German  Vorspann,  loiuled  apparently  with  the 
effeots  of  a  whole  household;  behind  the  cart,  which  was  drawn 
by  a  pair  of  horses  driven  by  a  German,  was  a  handsome 
brindled  cow,  with  an  enormous  udder.  On  a  pile  of  feather 
beds  sat  a  woman  with  a  baby  at  the  breast,  an  old  granny, 
and  a  young  healthy-looking  German  girl,  with  flaming  red 

*  Ru8B  :  the  sweet  ham  I 


WAR  AND  PEACE,  165 

cheeks.  Evidently,  these  natives  were  availing  themselves  of 
the  general  permission  to  remove  with  all  their  possessions. 
The  eyes  of  the  soldiers  were  fixed  upon  the  women,  and  as  the 
cart  moved  forward  at  a  slow  pace,  step  by  step,  all  sorts  of 
remarks  were  directed  at  the  two  young  women.  Almost  all 
the  faces  wore  the  peculiar  smile  suggested  by  vinseemly 
thonghts  concerning  tnem. 

**  Look  ye,  that  sausage  there  !  she's  moving  too ! " 

"Sell  me  the  little  woman"  cried  another  soldier  to  the 
German  who  with  downcast  eyes  walked  with  long  strides, 
frightened  and  solemn. 

"  Eh !  ain't  she  gay !     They're  line  little  devils ! " 

"  There's  a  chance  for  you  to  make  up  to  '  em,  Fyedotof ! " 

"Did  you  ever  see  anything  like  it,  old  fellow  ?  " 

"Where  are  you  going  ?  "  asked  an  infantry  ofticer,  who  as 
he  mimched  an  apple  looked  up  at  the  pretty  German  girl  with 
a  half  smile. 

The  German  shut  his  eyes,  signifying  that  he  did  not  under- 
stand. 

"  If  you'd  like  it,  take  it "  said  the  officer,  giving  the  girl  an 
apple.    She  took  it  and  thanked  him  with  a  smile. 

Nesvitsky,  like  all  the  rest  who  were  on  the  bridge,  kei>t  his 
eyes  on  the  women  till  they  vanished  from  sight.  After  they 
had  passed  beyond,  came  the  same  manner  of  soldiers  with  the 
same  interchange  of  repartee  and  then  at  length  the  train 
came  to  a  halt.  As  often  happens,  the  horses  attached  to 
some  company^s  baggage  wagon  became  entangled  at  the  end 
of  the  bridge,  and  the  whole  line  were  obliged  to  halt. 

"  What  are  they  waiting  for  ?  There's  no  order,"  said  the 
soldiers.  "  Don't  crowd !  The  devil !  Why  can't  you  have 
patience!"  "It  will  be  worse  than  this  when  he  sets  the 
bridge  on  fire."     "  You're  crushing  that  officer  ! " 

Such  were  the  remarks  made  on  all  sides  among  the  halting 
eolumns,  as  the  men  looked  at  each  other  and  still  kept  trying 
to  push  forward  toward  the  outlet. 

As  !Nesvitsky  looked  under  the  bridge  at  the  water  of  the 
Enns,  he  suddenly  heard  a  sound  that  was  new  in  his  ears  —  of 
something  swiftly  approaching  him,  of  something  huge,  and 
something  that  splashed  into  the  water. 

"  Did  you  see  where  that  flew  to  ?  "  gravely  asked  a  .soldier 
who  was  standing  near  and  trying  to  follow  the  sound. 

"They  are  encouraging  us  to  move  a  little  ftister,"  said 
another  uneasily.  Again  the  throng  began  to  move  along. 
Nesvitsky  realized  that  it  had  been  a  cannon  ball. 


•' 


166  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

"  H^ !  Cossack !  bring  me  my  horse ! "  he  said.  "  You  there ! 
make  way,  get  out  of  the  way  !  Clear  the  road ! " 

By  main  force  he  managed  to  swing  himself  upon  his  horse. 
By  shouting  constantly,  he  succeeded  in  forcing  his  way  forward. 
The  soldiers  crowded  together  so  as  to  let  him  pass,  but  immedi- 
ately after,  pressed  on  his  heels  so  that  they  squeezed  his  leg, 
and  those  who  were  nearest  could  not  help  themselves  because 
they  were  pushed  on  from  behind. 

"  Nesvitsky !  Xesvitsky  !  Is  it  you,  you  old  f wight,"  cried  a 
hoarse  voice  just  behind  him.  Nesvitsky  turned  round  and 
saw  twenty  paces  away,  but  separated  from  him  by  this  living 
mass  of  hurrying  infantry  the  handsome  Vaska  Denisof, 
shaggy  as  ever,  with  his  cap  on  the  back  of  his  head,  and  with 
his  hussar's  pelisse  jauntily  flung  back  over  his  shoulder. 

"Tell  these  devils,  these  fiends,  to  give  us  woom,"  cried 
Denisof,  going  into  a  paroxysm  of  rage,  his  coal-black  eyes, 
with  their  bloodshot  whites,  rolling  and  flashing  while  he  bran- 
dished his  unsheathed  sabre,  in  his  bare  little  hand,  as  1*6x1  as 
his  face. 

"  He !  Vasya,"  replied  Nesvitsky,  delighted,  "  Is  that  you  ?  " 

"  Can't  get  thwough  the  sq wad' won,"  cried  Vaska  Denisof 
angrily,  showing  his  shining  teeth  and  spurring  on  his  hand- 
some coal-black  Bedouin,  which  pricked  back  his  ears  at  the 
touch  of  the  bayonets,  and  snorting  and  scattering  around  him 
the  froth  from  his  bit  was  pawing  impatiently  the  planks  of 
the  bridge,  apparently  ready  to  leap  over  the  parapet,  if  only 
his  rider  gave  the  permission.  "  What  does  this  mean  ?  Like 
sheep !  Just  like  sheep  !  Out  of  the  way !  — give  us  woom  to 
pass !  Hold  on  there,  you  man  dwiving  that  wagon !  dwat  it ! 
I'll  cut  you  into  mincemeat,"  he  cried,  actually  drawing  his 
sabre  and  beginning  to  flourish  it. 

The  soldiers,  with  frightened  faces,  crowded  closer  together, 
and  Denisof  managed  to  reach  Nesvitsky. 

"  So  you  aren't  drunk  to-day  ?  "  said  Nesvitsky,  as  Denisof 
joined  him. 

"  They  don't  give  us  time  to  get  dwunk,"  replied  Vaska. 
"  The  wegiment  has  been  wunning  this  way  and  that  way  all 
day  long.  If  we're  going  to  fight,  then  let  us  fight.  But  the 
devil  knows  what  all  this  means." 

"  How  fine  you  are  these  days ! "  said  Nesvitsky,  glancing  at 
his  new  pelisse  and  housings. 

Denisof  smiled,  took  his  scented  handkerchief  from  his 
sabretache  and  held  it  to  Nesvitsky's  nose. 

"Can't  help  it!  I'm  going  into  action,  pe'haps!  and  so  I 
shaved,  bwushed  my  teeth,  and  perfumed  myself ! " 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  167 

Nesvitsky's  imposing  figure,  with  his, Cossack  in  attendance, 
and  DenisoFs  determination,  as  he  flourished  his  sabre  and 
shouted  at  the  top  of  his  voice,  enabled  them  to  get  to  the  far- 
ther end  of  the  bridge  and  halt  the  infantry.  Nesvitsky  there 
found  the  coloael  to  whom  he  was  obliged  to  deliver  the  mes- 
sage, and  having  accomplished  his  errand  he  rode  back. 

A.fter  the  way  was  cleared,  Denisof  reined  up  his  horse 
at  the  exit  of  the  bridge.  Carelessly  holding  in  his  stallion, 
that  stood  pawing  with  one  hoof  anxious  to  join  his  fellows,  he 
gazed  at  the  squadrons  that  were  moving  in  his  direction. 
The  hoof  beats  of  the  eager  horses  sounded  hollow  on  the  floor- 
ing of  the  bridge,  and  the  squadrons  with  the  otticers  riding  in 
advance,  hastened  across  the  bridge,  four  men  abreast,  and 
began  to  pour  off  from  the  other  end. 

The  infantry,  which  had  halted  in  the  mud  and  were  packed 
together,  gazed  at  the  neat  jaunty  hussars  riding  by  in  good 
order,  with  that  peculiar  malevolent  feeling  of  jealousy  and 
scorn  with  which  different  branches  of  the  service  are  apt  to 
regard  each  other. 

"  Very  tidy  lads  I  but  only  fit  for  the  Podnovinskoye." 

"  What's  the  use  of  them.  They're  merely  for  show,"  said 
another. 

**  You  infantry-men,  don't  kick  up  such  a  dust ! "  jestingly 
shouted  a  hussar,  whose  horse  playfully  spattered  the  foot 
soldier  with  mud. 

"  If  you'd  been  forced  to  march  two  stages  with  a  knapsack, 
your  gold  lace  would  be  tarnished,"  said  the  infantry  man, 
wiping  the  mud  from  his  face  with  his  sleeve.  "  You're  not  a 
man  but  a  bird,  on  that  horse ! " 

"  Well  now,  Zikin,  if  they  should  put  you  on  a  horse,  you'd 
have  an  easy  time  of  it ;  you'd  make  a  graceful  rider,"  jestingly 
remarked  the  corporal  aCiming  his  jest  at  the  lean  little  soldier 
who  was  bent  almost  double  under  the  weight  of  his  knapsack. 

"  Take  a  broomstick  between  your  legs ;  that  would  be  a 
good  enough  horse  for  you,"  retorted  the  hussar. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

The  rest  of  the  infantry  hurriedly  marched  across  the  bridge, 
though  they  were  crowded  in  the  tunnel-like  passage  at  the 
end.  At  last  all  the  baggage  wagons  had  crossed,  the  crush 
became  less,  and  the  last  battalion  marched  u])on  the  bridge. 

Only  the  hussars  of  Denisof  s  command  were  left  on  the  end 


/ 


168  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

of  the  bridge  toward  the  enemy.  The  enemy,  though  plainly 
visible  from  the  heights  opposite,  could  not  as  yet  be  seeu, 
from  the  level  of  the  bridge,  since  from  the  valley,  through 
which  flows  the  river  Enns,  the  horizon  is  bounded  by  an  emi- 
nence lying  about  half  a  verst  distant. 

Directly  in  front  was  a  plot  of  waste  laud,  over  which  here 
and  there  moved  bands  of  Cossack  patrols. 

Suddenly,  on  the  height  opposite  the  road,  appeared  troopfi  in 
blue  capotes  and  accompanied  by  artillery. 

It  was  the  French  ! 

The  Cossack  patrol  came  galloping  down  the  road.  All  the 
officers  and  men  of  Denisof's  squadron,  although  they  tried 
hard  to  talk  of  different  things  and  to  look  in  other  directions^ 
nevertheless  were  unable  to  keep  out  of  their  thoughts  what 
was  there  before  them  on  the  hill,  and  their  eyes  constantly 
turned  to  those  patches  which  were  moving  against  the  hor- 
izon, and  which  they  knew  were  the  troops  of  the  enemy. 

It  was  now  afternoon,  and  the  weather  had  cleared  ;  the  sim 
was  sinking  brilliantly  over  the  Danube,  and  the  forest-olal 
mountains  that  walled  him  in.  There  was  no  wind,  and  occas- 
ionally from  that  hilltop  came  the  sounds  of  bugles  and  the 
shouts  of  the  enemy.  Between  the  squadron  and  the  enemy, 
there  was  now  no  one  except  the  Cossack  patrols.  The  space 
between  them  was  only  a  little  more  than  two  thousand  feet 
The  enemy  had  ceased  to  fire,  and  all  the  more  distinctly  was 
felt  that  solemn,  ominoiis  gap,  unapproachable  and  inexorable, 
that  divides  two  hostile  armies. 

"  One  step  beyond  that  line,  which  is  like  the  bourn  that 
divides  the  living  from  the  dead,  and  there  is  the  Unknown 
of  suffering  and  of  death.  And  what  is  there  ?  Who  is 
there  ?  there,  beyond  that  field,  beyond  that  tree,  and  that 
roof,  glittering  in  the  sun  ?  No  one  knows,  and  no  one  wishes 
to  know,  and  it  is  terrible  to  pass  across  that  line,  and  I  know 
that  sooner  or  later  I  shall  have  to  cross  it,  and  shall  then  know 
what  is  there  on  that  side  of  the  line,  just  as  inevitably  as  1 
shall  know  what  is  on  the  other  side  of  death.  And  yet 
I  am  strong,  full  of  life,  joy,  and  exuberant  spirits,  and  sur- 
rounded by  other  men,  just  as  full  of  health  and  exuberant 
spirits." 

Thus  every  man  feels,  even  if  he  does  not  formulate  it  in 
his  thought,  when  he  comes  in  sight  of  the  enemy,  and  this 
feeling  lends  a  peculiar  vividness  and  distinctness  of  impres- 
sion to  everything  that  occurs  at  such  moments. 

On  the  hill  where  the  enemy  were,  arose  a  puff  of  smoke, 


perfectly  calin  under  fire.  But  even  in  his  face,  tlie  aame  line, 
indicative  of  something  new  and  solemn,  showed  itself  around 
his  uoutb,  against  his  will. 

'■  Who's  tfeit  making  a  bow,  there  ?  Yunker  MiVonof,  you  ? 
It  isn't  wight,  look  at  me !  "  cried  Denisof,  who  could  not  keep 
still,  but  kept  riding  up  and  down  in  front  of  the  squadron. 

Vaska  Denisof,  with  his  flat  nose  and  black  hair,  his  little 
bent  figure,  his  sinewy  hand  with  short,  hairy  fingers,  gra.sping 
the  hilt  of  his  drawn  sword,  was  just  the  aame  as  usual,  or  rather,  . 
just  the  same  as  he  was  apt  to  be  in  the  evening,  after  he  had 
been  drinking  a  couple  of  bottles.  Only  he  was  a  trifle  ruddier 
than  ordinary,  and,  carrj^ing  his  head  very  high,  like  a  bird 
when  it  is  drinking,  he  pitilessly  plunged  the  spurs  into  the 
iasi\s  of  his  good  Bedouin,  and  galloped  back  to  the  other 
Sank  of  the  squadron,  and  cried  out  in  a  hoarse  voice  his  orders 
that  they  should  examine  their  pistols. 


^ 


"W:. 


170 


^^   iiSTD  PEACE. 


Then  he  rode  off  towai-d' Xitsten,  the  second  captain,  who 
came  up  to  meet  Dehisof,  walfahg  his  broad  and  steady-going 
mare.     The  captain,  \^th  i^  ^^ttMf  miustaches,  was  as  grave  as 


d  brilliancy. 

"  It  won't  come  to 


Denisof. 

noticing  bis 

he   smiled 

Rostof 

appeared 


usual,  but  his  eyes  flashed 'iflKfl!*^ 

"  Well,  how  is  it  ?  "  saWlte  1» 
a  fight.     You'll  see,  we  shall  be  o.rdi 

"  The  deuce  only  knows  wtttt  tW 

"Ah!    W'ostof!"   he    crieJ^*!  •' 
radiant  face.      "  Well  now's  yditf 
approvingly,  evidently  feeling  proi:|d  of 
felt  perfectly  happy.     At  this  mom^fa^i}  ft 
on  the  bridge.     Denisof  spurred  off  t " 

"Your  excellency,  let  us  attack  ' 
back ! "  "^^ 

"  Attack  them  ! "  <5ried  the  officer,  show 
in  his  voice,  and  frowning  as  though  at  a  pe 
why  are  you  delaying  here  ?     Don't  you  see 
withdrawing.     Order  your  squadron  back." 

The  squadron  crossed  the  bridge  and  retired  bej 
the  shots,  not  having  lost  a  single  man.     Behind  th 
second  squadron  which  had  been  forming  the  reargu' 
last  of  all,  the  Cossacks  crossed  to  the  farther  side. 

The  two  squadrons  of  the  Pavlograd  regiment,  crossin 
bridge,  one  after  the  other,  galloped  up  the  road.     The 
mental  commander,  Karl    Bogdanovitch    Schubert,  overtoo 
Denisof's  squadron,  and  walked  his  horse  along,  not  far  fi-om 
Rostof,  but  without  giving  him  the  slightest  notice,  although 
it  was  the  first  time  that  they  had  met  since  their  quarrel 
about  Telyagin. 

Rostof,  who,  now  that  he  was  in  line,  realized  that  he  was  in 
the  power  of  the  man  toward  whom  he  felt  guilty,  did  not  tsike 
his  eyes  from  the  colonel's  athletic  back,  the  light  hair  at  the 
back  of  his  head,  and  his  red  neck.  Sometimes,  it  seemed  to 
Rostof  that  Bogdanuitch  was  merely  pretending  not  to  notice 
him,  and  that  his  whole  aim  now  was  to  try  the  yunker's  cour- 
age aij^  he  straightened  himself  up  and  looked  around  him 
gayly ;  then,  again,  it  seemed  to  him  that  Bogdanuitch  rode  close 
to  him  to  display  his  own  courage.  Now,  it  occurred  to  him 
that  his  opponent  was  going  to  send  the  squadron  into  some  for- 
lorn hope,  in  order  to  punish  him.  And  then  again,  it  occurred 
to  him  that  after  the  affray  he  would  come  to  him  and  mag- 
nanimously extend  to  him  the  hand  of  reconciliation,  in  honor 
of  the  wound  which  he  should  receive. 

The  high-shouldered  Zherkof,  well-knowu  to  the  Pavlograd 


WAR   AND  PEACE,  171 

boys,  having,  not  long  since  been  in  their  regiment,  came  rid- 
ing up  to  the  regimental  commander.  Zherkof,  after  his  dis- 
missal from  the  general's  staff,  had  not  remained  in  the  regiment, 
saying  that  he  was  not  such  a  fool  as  to  put  on  the  "  tugging- 
collar  "  in  the  ranks,  when,  by  serving  on  the  staff  and  hav- 
ing nothing  to  do,  he  could  gain  greater  rewards,  and  so  he 
had  succeeded  in  getting  himself  appointed  as  special  orderly  to 
Prince  Bagration.  He  now  came  up  to  his  former  chief  with 
a  message  from  the  commander  of  the  rearguard. 

"  Colonel,"  said  he,  with  his  most  melancholy  assumption  of 
gravity,  turning  to  liostofs  opponent,  and  glancing  at  his  com- 
rades, "you  are  ordered  to  halt  and  burn  the  bridge." 

"  Who  orders  it  ?  "  asked  the  colonel  testily. 

"  Well,  I  don't  know,  colonel,  who  orders  it,"  replied  the 
cornet,  gravely,  "  but  the  prince  said  to  me  :  ^  Go  and  tell  the 
colonel  that  the  hussars  are  to  return  as  quickly  as  possible 
and  burn  the  bridge.' " 

Immediately  after  Zherkof,  an  officer  of  the  suite  rode  up 
to  the  colonel  of  hussars,  with  the  same  order,  And  immedi- 
ately after  the  officer  of  the  suite,  came  the  stout  Nesvitsky, 
galloping  up  with  all  his  might,  on  his  Cossack's  horse,  which 
could  hardly  carry  him.  "  How  is  it,  colonel,"  he  cried,  while 
still  at  a  distance,  "  I  told  you  to  burn  the  bridge,  but  now 
some  one  has  mistaken  the  order ;  everybody  here  has  lost 
his  wits,  and  there's  nothing  done  right." 

The  colonel  took  his  time  in  halting  the  regiment,  and 
turned  to  Nesvitsky, — 

"  You  told  me  to  bum  up  the  combustibles,"  said  he,  "  but 
as  to  burning  that,  you  did  not  say  a  word." 

"  What's  that,  batyushka,"  exclaimed  Nesvitsky,  reining 
in  his  horse,  taking  off  his  cap,  and  with  his  fat  hand  brushing 
hack  his  hair,  dripping  with  perspiration.  "  How's  that  ? 
Didn't  I  say  that  the  bridge  was  to  be  burned,  when  you 
burned  all  the  combustibles  ?  " 

"I  won't  be  called  batyushka  by  you,  Mister  Staff  Officer, 
and  you  did  not  tell  me  to  burn  the  bridge.  1  know  my  duties, 
and  I  am  accustomed  faithfully  to  carry  out  what  I  am  com- 
manded to  do.  You  said  the  bridge  was  to  be  burned,  but  who 
was  to  do  it,  the  Holy  Ghost  could  not  tell  me." 

**  Well,  that's  always  the  way,"  cried  Nesvitsky,  with  a  wave 
of  the  hand.  "  What  are  you  doing  here  ?  "  he  asked,  turning 
to  Zherkof. 

"Exactly  the  same  thing  as  you  are !  but  bow  wet  you 
are !  let  me  wring  you  out ! " 


172  ^VAIt   AND  PEACE, 

"  You  said,  Mister  Staff  Officer,"  —  proceeded  the  colonel 
ill  an  offended  tone. 

"  Colonel,"  interrupted  the  officer  from  the  suite,  "  You  must 
make  haste,  or  else  the  enemy  will  be  pouring  grapeshot  into  us." 

The  colonel  silently  looked  at  the  officer  from  the  suite,  at 
stout  Prince  Nesvitsky,  and  at  Zherkof,  and  f  row  nod. 

"  I  will  bum  the  bridge,"  said  he  in  a  solemu  voi(».e,  a-s  though 
to  express  by  it  that  in  spite  of  all  the  disagreeable  things  that 
happened  to  him,  he  was  always  prepared  to  do  his  duty. 

Spurring  his  horse  with  his  long,  muscular  legs,  as  though 
the  animal  were  to  blame  for  everything,  the  colonel  started 
forward,  and  ordered  the  second  squadron,  in  which  Rostof 
served,  to  return,  under  the  command  of  Denisof,  and  burn  the 
bridge. 

"  Well,  that's  the  way  it  is,"  said  Rostof  to  himself.  "  He 
wants  to  try  me."  His  heart  beat  and  the  blood  rushed  to  his 
face.     "  Let  him  see  if  I  am  a  coward,"  he  thought. 

Once  more,  over  all  the  happy  faces  of  the  men  in  the  squad- 
ron, appeared  that  same  serious  line  which  they  had  worn  at 
the  time  that  they  were  under  fire.  Rostof,  not  taking  his  eyes 
from  his  opponent,  the  regimental  commander,  tried  to  discover 
in  his  face  a  confirmation  of  his  suspicions ;  but  the  colonel 
did  not  once  look  at  Rostof,  but  as  usual  gazed  sternly  and 
solemnly  along  the  line.     The  word  of  command  was  heard. 

"  Lively  !  lively ! "  cried  voices  around  him.  With  their 
sabres  catching  in  the  reins,  with  rattling  spurs,  the  hussars 
dismounted  in  all  haste,  not  knowing  what  they  were  to  do. 
They  crossed  themselves.  Rostof  now  looked  no  more  at  the 
colonel :  he  had  no  time.  He  was  afraid,  afraid  with  a  real 
sinking  of  the  heart,  that  he  should  be  left  behind.  His  hand 
trembled  as  he  turned  his  horse  over  to  the  groom,  and  he  felt 
how  the  blood  was  rushing  back  to  his  heart.  Denisof,  on  his 
way  back  shouted  something  to  him  as  he  passed.  Rostof 
saw  nothing  except  the  hussars  running  by  his  side,  impeded  by 
their  spurs  and  with  rattling  sabres. 

"  The  stretchers  !  "  cried  some  voice  behind  him,  but  Rostof 
did  not  stop  to  think  what  that  demand  for  stretchers  meant ; 
he  ran  on,  striving  only  to  be  in  advance  of  the  others,  but  at 
the  very  bridge  he  failed  to  look  where  he  was  going,  and  slip- 
ping in  the  slimy,  sheeted  mud,  stumbled,  and  fell  upon  his 
hands.     The  others  dashed  ahead  of  him. 

"  At  both  sides,  captain,"  shouted  the  colonel,  who  having 
ridden  ahead,  had  reined  in  his  horse  not  far  from  the  bridge, 
and  sat  looking  on  with  a  triumphant  and  radiant  expression. 


WAR   AND  PEACE.  173 

Eostof,  wiping  his  soiled  hands  on  his  riding-trousers,  glanced 
at  his  opponent  and  determined  to  go  on,  thinking  that  the  far- 
ther forward  he  went,  the  better  it  would  be.  But  Bogdanuitch, 
without  looking  at  him,  or  even  noticing  that  it  was  Rostof, 
cried  to  him, — 

"  Who  is  that  in  the  middle  of  the  bridge.  Take  the  right 
side !  Yunker,  come  back  ! "  he  shouted  testily,  and  then  turned 
to  Denisof,  who,  making  a  show  of  his  foolhardiness,  was  rid- 
ing upon  the  bridge. 

"  Why  run  such  risks,  captain,  you'd  better  dismount,'*  cried 
the  captain. 

"  He !  he  always  finds  some  one  in  fault,"  replied  Vaska 
Denisofy  turning  in  his  saddle. 

Meantime,  Nesvitsky,  Zherkof,  and  the  staff  officer,  stood  in 
a  little  group,  out  of  range,  and  watched  now  the  little  band  of 
hussars,  in  yellow  shakos,  dark  green  roundabouts,  embroidered 
with  gold  lace,  and  blue  trousers,  who  were  swarming  over  the 
bridge,  and  now,  in  the  other  direction,  looked  at  the  blue 
capotes  marching  down  from  the  distant  hill,  and  the  groups 
with  horses,  which  could  easily  be  recognized  as  tield-pieces. 

"  Will  they  get  the  bridge  burnt,  or  not  ?  Who  is  ahead  ? 
Will  they  have  time  to  set  the  bridge  on  lire  before  the  French 
turn  grape  on  them  and  drive  them  back  ?  " 

Such  questions  as  these,  every  man  in  the  great  band  of  sol- 
diers that  were  stationed  near  the  bridge  involuntarily  asked 
himself,  as  he  looked  that  bright  afternoon,  at  the  bridge,  and 
at  the  hussars,  and  then  again,  on  the  other  side,  at  the  blue- 
coats  approaching  with  bayonets  and  field-pieces. 

"Okh!  the  hussars  will  catch  it!"  exclaimed  Nesvitsky, 
"  They're  within  range  of  grape  now." 

**It  was  useless  to  send  so  many  men,"  said  the  staff  officer. 

"That's  a  fact,"  returned  Nesvitsky,  "If  he'd  only  sent  two 
smart  young  fellows,  it  would  have  boon  just  as  well." 

"  Akh  !  your  illustriousness,"  remarked  Zherkof,  not  talking 
his  eyes  from  the  hussars,  but  still  speaking  in  his  own 
peculiar  fashion,  which  left  it  in  doubt  whether  he  were 
serious  or  in  earnest,  "  akh  !  your  illustriousness,  how  can  you 
think  so !  The  idea  of  sending  two  men !  How  then  would  we 
get  the  Vladimir  and  the  ribbon  ?  Supposing  they  do  have 
a  little  thrashing,  then  there'll  be  a  chance  for  the  colonel  to 
report  the  squadron  and  get  a  ribbon  for  himself.  Our  Bogdan- 
uitch knows  a  thing  or  two." 

"Now  there,"  said  the  staff  officer,  "that  means  grape!" 


176  wah  and  PKAcn, 

"Infonn  the  prince  that  I  burned  the  bridge,"  said  the 
colonel,  with  a  gay  and  triumphant  expression. 

"  But  suppose  it  is  asked  about  our  loss  ?  " 

"  A  mere  trifle,"  said  the  colonel,  in  his  deepest  tones :  "  Two 
hussars  wounded  and  one  finished,"  said  he  with  apparent  joy, 
and  scarcely  refraining  from  a  contented  smile,  as  he  brought 
out  with  ringing  emphasis  the  happy  phrase,  finished,* 


CHAPTER  IX. 

The  Russian  army  of  thirty-five  thousand  men,  under  com- 
mand of  Kutuzof,  pursued  by  the  French,  a  hundred  thousand 
strong,  under  Bonaparte  himself,  meeting  with  unfriendly  dis- 
posed natives,  no  longer  having  confidence  in  their  allies,  suf- 
fering from  a  lack  of  provisions,  and  obliged  to  act  in  a  man- 
ner opposed  to  all  preconceived  conditions  of  war,  was  in  hasty 
retreat  down  the  Danube,  halting  when  the  enemy  overtook 
them,  and  fighting  them  off  by  skirmishes  at  the  rearguard, 
but  fighting  no  more  than  was  necessary  to  ensure  their  retreat 
without  losing  any  of  their  baggage. 

Actions  had  taken  place  at  Lambach,  Amstetten  and  Melck, 
but,  notwithstanding  the  bravery  and  fortitude  displayed  by 
the  Russians,  as  even  their  enemy  acknowledged,  these  actions 
did  not  prevent  their  movement  from  being  a  retreat,  conducted 
with  all  possible  celerity. 

The  Austrians,  who  had  escaped  from  the  surrender  at  Ulm, 
and  had  joined  Kutuzof  at  Braunau,  had  now  separated  from 
the  Russians,  and  Kutuzof  was  left  only  with  his  weakened, 
famished  forces. 

It  was  impossible  any  longer  to  think  of  defending  Vienna. 
In  place  of  the  offensive  warfare  so  craftily  elaborated  in  ac- 
cordance with  the  laws  of  the  new  science  of  strategy,  the  plan 
of  which  had  been  communicated  to  Kutuzof  by  the  Hofkriegs- 
rath  while  he  was  in  Vienna,  the  only  thing  that  was  left 
him  now,  unless  he  were  to  sacrifice  his  army,  as  Mack  had 
done  at  Ulm,  was  to  effect  a  juncture  with  the  troops  on  then- 
way  from  Russia,  and  even  this  was  almost  an  impossibility. 

On  the  ninth  of  November,  Kutuzof  and  his  army  crossed  to 
the  left  bank  of  the  Danube,  and,  for  the  first  time,  halted, 
having  now  put  the  river  between  himself  and  the  main  body 
of  the  French.  On  the  eleventh,  he  attacked  and  defeated  the 
division  under  Mortier,  which  was  stationed  on  the  left  bank 

*  NorpovaU  literally:  without  exception,  totally.  • 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  177 

of  the  Danube.  In  this  engagement,  for  the  Hrst  time,  some 
trophies  were  captured :  a  stand  of  colors,  cannon,  and  two  of 
the  enemy's  generals.  For  the  first  time,  after  a  fortnight's 
retreat,  the  Russian  army  halted,  and  at  the  end  of  the  battle, 
not  only  held  the  field  of  battle,  but  had  driven  off  the 
Prench. 

Although  the  army  was  exhausted  and  in  rags,  and  reduced 
a  third  by  the  killed,  wounded,  sick,  and  stragglers  ;  although 
the  sick  and  wounded  had  been  left  on  the  other  side  of  the 
Danube,  with  a  letter  from  Kutuzof  commending  them  to  the 
magnanimity  of  the  enemy,  although  the  regular  hospitals  and 
the  houses  of  Krems  which  had  been  turned  into  lazarettos, 
were  unable  to  receive  all  the  sick  and  wounded  remaining;  — 
still,  in  spite  of  all  this,  the  halt  at  Krems  and  the  victory 
over  Mortier  signally  raised  the  spirits  of  the  army. 

The  most  gratifying  but  improbable  reports  were  in  circula- 
tion throughout  the  troops  and  even  at  headquarters,  concerning 
imaginary  reinforcements  frojn  Russia  being  at  hand,  concern- 
ing some  great  victory  won  by  the  Austrians,  and  the  retreat 
and  panic  of  Bonapaite. 

Dimng  the  battle,  Prince  Andrei  had  been  near  the  Austrian 
general,  Schmidt,  when  he  was  killed.  His  own  horse  had 
been  wounded  under  him,  and  he  himself  had  been  slightly 
grazed  by  a  bullet  on  the  hand.  As  a  sign  of  special  favor 
from  the  commander-in-chief,  he  was  sent  to  carry  the  news  of 
this  victory  to  the  Austrian  Court,  which  had  left  Vienna,  now 
threatened*  by  the  French,  and  was  established  at  Briinn.  On 
the  evening  of  the  victory.  Prince  Andrei,  excited,  but  not 
weary,  for  in  spite  of  his  apparently  delicate  constitution,  he 
could  endure  physical  fatigue  far  better  than  much  stronger 
men,  having  brought  Dokhturof's  report  to  Kutuzof,  was  de- 
spatched that  same  evening  as  a  special  courier  to  Briinn.  Such 
an  errand  en.siired  the  courier  not  only  a  decoration,  but  pointed 
infallibly  to  promotion. 

The  night  was  dark,  but  starry  ;  the  road  made  a  black  line 
across  the  snow  which  had  been  falling  during  the  engagement. 
Now  recalling  the  impressions  of  the  battle  through  which  ho 
had  passed,  now  joyfully  imagining  the  impression  which  he 
should  cause  by  the  news  of  the  victory,  recollecting  the  part- 
ing words  of  the  commander-in-chief  and  his  comrades.  Prince 
Andrei  drove  on  at  a  furious  pace  in  his  post-carriage,  experi- 
encing the  feelings  of  a  man  who  has  long  waited  and  at  last  is 
about  to  attain  his  wished-for  joy.  As  soon  as  he  closed  his 
^je%,  his  ears  were  filled  with  the  roar  of  musketry  and  cannon, 
VOL.  1.  — 12. 


178  WAR  AXD  PEACE. 

mingling  with  the  rumble  of  the  wheels  and  the  details  of  the 
victory. 

Now  it  seemed  to  him  that  the  Russians  were  flying,  and 
that  he  himself  was  killed.  But  he  would'awake  with  a  start, 
feeling  a  strange  delight  in  the  realization  that  nothing  of  the 
sort  had  taken  place,  and  that,  on  the  contrarj^,  it  was  the 
French  who  had  been  defeated.  Then,  again,  he  would  recall 
all  the  details  of  the  victory,  his  own  serene  manliness  during 
the  engagement,  and  his  recollections  would  lull  him  to  sleep 
again. 

The  dark,  starry  night  was  followed  by  a  bright,  joyous  day. 
The  snow  gleamed  in  the  sunshine,  the  horses  sped  swiftly 
along,  and  in  monotonous  variety  on  both  sides  flew  by  new 
woods,  field?,  and  villages. 

At  one  of  the  post-houses,  he  overtook  a  train  of  Russian 
wounded.  A  Russian  officer  in  charge  of  thetjonvoy  was 
stretched  out  in  the  foremost  cart,  and  shouting  at  the  top  of 
his  voice,  and  scolding  the  soldiers  in  coarse  language. 

The  long  German  vorspanns,  each  containing  six  or  more 
woTuided,  pale  and  bandaged  and  dirty,  jolted  heavily  along 
over  the  rough,  paved  road.  Some  of  them  were  talking 
(Prince  Andrei  overheard  their  Russian  speech),  others  were 
munching  bread,  while  those  who  were  most  seriously  hurt 
gazed  with  the  good-natured  and  childish  curiosity  of  sickness 
at  the  courier  hurrying  by  them. 

Prince  Andrei  ordered  the  driver  to  stop,  and  asked  one  of 
the  soldiers  where  they  had  been  wounded.  "  Day  before  yes- 
terday, on  the  Danube,"  rej>lied  the  soldier.  Prince  Andrei 
took  out  his  purse  and  gave  the  soldier  three  gold  pieces. 

"  For  them  all,"  he  added,  turning  to  the  officer  in  com- 
mand. "  Get  well  as  fast  as  you  can,  boys,"  said  he  to  the  sol- 
diers, ^'  there's  still  much  to  be  done." 

"Well,  Mr.  Adjutant,  what's  the  news?"  asked  the  old 
officer,  evidently  taking  a  fancy  to  have  a  talk. 

*'  Good  news  !  —  Forward,"  he  cried  to  his  driver,  and  he 
was  borne  swiftly  on. 

It  was  already  quite  dark  when  Prince  Andrei  reached 
Briinn  and  found  himself  surrounded  by  lofty  houses,  liglited 
shops,  and  street  lamps,  handsome  carriages  rumbling  over  the 
wooden  pavements,  and  by  all  that  atmosphere  of  a  large,  lively 
city  which  is  always  so  fascinating  to  a  soldier  after  camp  life. 

Prince  Andrei,  notwithstanding  the  swiftness  of  his  journey 
and  his  sleepless  night,  felt  as  he  drove  up  to  the  palace,  even 
more   excited   than   iie   had   the   evening   before.     His    eyes 


WAR  AND  PEACE,  179 

gleamed  with  a  feverish  lights  and  his  thoughts  rushed 
through  his  mind  with  extraordinary  rapidity  and  clearness. 
Vividly,  all  the  details  of  the  battle  came  iirto  his  mind,  not 
with  any  confusion  'but  in  due  sequence,  word  for  word,  as 
he  imagined  he  should  render  his  account  to  the  Emperor 
Franz. 

Vividly  he  imagined  the  circumstantial  questions  which 
might  be  asked  him  and  the  answers  which  he  should  make  to 
them-;  He  supposed  that  he  should  be  immediately  summoned 
before  the  emperor.  But  at  the  principal  entrance  of  the 
palace,  he  was  met  by  an  official  who,  discovering  that  he  was 
only  a  courier,  sent  him  round  to  another  ^itrance. 

"  Take  the  corridor  at  the  right,  Euer  Hochgehoreii,  there  you 
will  find  the  Flugel-adjutant,  who  is  on  duty,"  said  the  official, 
"He  will  take  you  to  the  minister  of  war." 

The  FliigeT-adjutant,  coming  to  meet  Prince  Andrei  asked 
him  to  wait,  while  he  went  to  the  minister.  In  live  minutes 
he  returned  and  bowing  with  unusual  deference,  and  allowing 
Prince  Andrei  to  pass  in  front  of  him,  directed  him  through  a 
corridor  into  a  private  office  occupied  by  the  minister  of  war. 
The  Flugel-adjutant,  by  his  extravagant  politeness  seemed  to 
be  trying  to  defend  himself  from  any  attempt  at  familiarity  on 
the  part  of  the  Russian  courier.  Prince  Andrei's  exultant 
feeling  was  decidedly  cooled  down  the  moment  he  entered  the 
door  into  the  lainister's  private  office.  He  felt  humiliated,  and 
this  feeling  of  wounded  pride  changed  instantly  but 
imperceptibly  into  a  feeling  of  contempt  which  had  no  reason- 
able cause.  His  fertile  mind  at  the  same  moment  began  to 
search  for  a  point  of  view  according  to  which  he  might  be 
jnstified  in  scoxning  both  the  Fiigel-adjutant  and  the  minister 
of  war.  "It's  probably  very  easy  for  them  to  show  how  to 
gain  victories,  though  they  have  never  smelt  gunpowder,"  he 
said  to  himself.  His  eyes  contracted  contemptuously;  he 
walked  into  the  war  minister's  private  office  with  all  the  delib- 
eration in  the  world.  This  feeling  was  still  further  intensified 
when  he  caught  sight  of  that  dignitary  sitting  between  two 
candles  at  a  great  table,  and  not  deigning  to  give  his  visitor  even 
a  glance  for  the  first  two  minutes. 

The  war  minister's  bald  head,  with  its  fringe  of  gray  hair, 
was  bent  over  some  papers  which  he  was  reading  and  markini^ 
^th  a  lead  pencil.  He  finished  reading  tliem,  not  even  lift- 
hia  head  when  the  door  opened  to  admit  his  visitor,  though  he 
must  have  heard  the  steps.  "  Take  this  and  deliver  it  at  once," 
said  the  minister  of  war  to  his  secretary ,»  handing  him  some 


180  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

papers   and  not  even  yet  recognizing  the  existence  of  the 
courier. 

Prince  Andrei  came  to  the  conclusion  that  out  of  all  the 
affairs  that  preoccupied  the  minister  of  war,  the  feats  of 
Kutuzof  s  army  either  interested  liim  the  least  or  else  he  felt 
obliged  to  give  this  impression  to  the  Russian  courier.  "Well, 
it's  all  the  same  to  me,"  said  he  to  himself. 

The  minister  of  war  assorted  the  rest  of  his  papers,  placing 
them  in  regular  order  and  then  at  last  lifted  his  head.  He 
had  an  intelligent  and  determined  face,  but  at  the  .instant  that 
he  turned  to  Prince  Andrei,  this  intelligent  and  firm  expression 
seemed  to  change  as  if  by  purpose  and  consciously,  and  in  its 
place  came  a  dull,  hypocritical  smile,  in  which  there  was  no 
pretence  even  of  hiding  its  hypocrisy,  —  the  habitual  smile  of 
a  man  accustomed  to  receiving  many  petitioners  one  after  the 
other. 

"From  General  Field  Marshal  Kutuzof?"  he  asked,  '*I 
hope  it  is  good  news.  So  he's  had  an  encounter  with  Mortier  ? 
A  victory  ?     It  was  time ! " 

He  took  the  despatch  which  was  directed  to  him  and  began 
to  read  it  with  a  melancholy  expression. 

"  Ach  mein  Gott !  mein  Gott !  Schmidt ! "  said  he,  in  German. 
"  What  a  misfortune !  what  a  misfortune !  '^  Having  run 
through  the  paper  he  laid  it  on  the  table  and  glanced  at  Prince 
Andrei,  evidently  weighing  something  in  his  mind.  "  Ach ! 
what  a  misfortune !  The  affair  you  say,  was  decisive  ?  But 
Mortier  was  not  taken."  He  pondered.  "  Vm  very  glad  that 
you  have  brought  this  good  news,  although  the  death  of 
Schmidt  is  a  costly  price  to  pay  for  the  victory.  His  majesty 
will  probably  desire  to  see  you,  but  not  this  evening.  I  thank 
you ;  go  and  get  rested.  To-morrow  be  at  the  levee  after  the 
parade.     However,  I  will  give  you  due  notice."  * 

The  dull  smile  which  had  disappeared  during  this  conversar 
tion  again  appeared  on  the  war  minister's  face. 

"Good  by.  Avf  tciedersehen  —  I  thank  you  very  much. 
His  majesty  the  emperor  will  no  doubt  wish  to  see  you,"  he 
repeated,  and  inclined  his  head. 

When  Prince  Andrei  had  left  the  palace  he  felt  that  iill  the 
interest  and  happiness  which  the  victory  had  brought  him,  hat! 
deserted  him  and  had  been  left  behind  in  the  indifferent  hands 
of  the  war  minister  and  of  the  polite  Flugel-adjutant,  The 
whole  course  of  his  thoughts  had  instantly  changed;  the  battle 
seemed  to  him  like  the  recollection  of  something  that  happened 
long  before. 


WAR  AND  PEACE,  181 


CHAPTER  X. 

Pbikcb  Andrei  put  up  at  Briinn,  at  the  residence  of  his 
friend,  the  diplomat  Bilibin. 

"Ah !  my  dear  prince,  no  one  could  be  more  welcome,"  said 
Bilibin,  coming  down  to  greet  him.  "  Franz,  take  the  prince \s 
luggage  into  mj  sleeping-room,"  he  added,  turning  to  the  valet 
who  had  admitted  the  visitor.  "  So  you're  bringing  news  of 
a  victory.  Excellent !  But  I'm  under  the  weather,  as  you  can 
see." 

Prince  Andrei  having  washed  and  changed  his  dress,  joined 
the  diplomat  in  his  luxurious  study,  and  sat  down  to  the  dinner 
which  had  been  prepared  for  him.  Bilibin  drew  up  comfortably 
before  the  fire. 

After  his  hurried  journey  and  indeed  after  this  whole  cam- 
paign, during  which  he  had  been  deprived  of  all  the  comforts 
and  elegancies  of  life,  Prince  Andrei  experienced  a  pleasant 
feeling  of  repwDse  amid  these  luxurious  conditions  of  existence, 
to  which  he  had  been  aex^ustomed  since  childhood.  Moreover, 
it  was  pleasant  after  his  reception  by  the  Austrians  to  talk,  not 
indeed  in  Russian,  for  they  spoke  in  French,  but  with  a 
Russian  who,  as  he  supposed,  shared  the  general  Russian  aver- 
sion, now  felt  with  especial  keenness,  for  the  Austrians. 

Bilibin  was  a  man  of  thirty -five,  unmarried,  and  belonging 
to  the  same  set  as  Prince  Andrei.  They  had  been  acquaintances 
long  before  in  Petersburg,  and  had  become  more  intimate  during 
Prince  Andrei's  last  visit  to  Vienna,  in  company  with  Kutuzof. 
Just  as  Prince  Andrei  was  a  young  man  who  promised  to  make 
a  brilliant  career  in  the  military  profession,  so  Bilibin,  with 
even  greater  probability,  was  on  the  road  to  success  in  diplo- 
macy. He  was  still  a  young  man,  but  he  was  not  a  young  diplo- 
mat, since  he  had  begun  his  career  at  the  age  of  sixteen,  had 
been  in  Paris  and  in  Copenhagen,  and  now  held  a  very  respon- 
sible post  in  Vienna.  Both  the  chancellor  and  the  Russian 
embassador  at  the  court  of  Vienna  knew  him  and  prized  him 
highly.  He  was  not  one  of  those  diplomats  who  are  considered 
to  be  very  good,  because  they  have  merely  negative  qualities, 
do  nothing  but  their  perfunctory  duties,  and  are  able  to  speak 
French.  He  was  rather  one  of  those  who  work  con  amove,  and 
vith  intelligence ;  notwithstanding  his  natural  indolenco,  ho 
sometimes  spent  the  whole  night  at  his  writing-table.  He  ])ut 
in  good  work;  no  matter  what  was  the  nature  of  the  work  iu 


182  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

hand.     It  was  the  question  **  how,"  not  the  question  "  why," 
that  interested  him. 

It  was  a  matter  of  indifference  to  him  what  the  diplomatic 
business  was  about,  but  he  took  the  greatest  satisfaction  iu 
artistically,  accurately,  and  elegantly  composing  circiUars, 
memorials,  or  reports. 

Bilibin's  services  were  prized,  not  only  because  of  his  skill 
in  inditing  letters,  but  still  more  because  of  his  faculty  for  shin- 
ing in  society  and  carrying  on  conversation  in  the  highest 
spheres. 

Bilibin  liked  to  talk  just  as  he  liked  to  work,  but  it  was 
essential  that  the  topic  should  let  him  display  his  delicately 
polished  wit.  In  society,  he  was  constantly  on  the  watch  for 
a  chance  to  say  something  remarkable,  and  he  never  mingled 
in  conversation  except  under  such  conditions.  His  talk  was 
plentifully  begemmed  with  keen  and  polished  phrases,  original 
with  himself,  and  yet  having  an  interest  for  all.  These  phrases 
were  prepared  in  Bilibin's  internal  laboratory,  as  a  sort  of  port- 
able property,  which  even  the  dullest  members  of  society  might 
easily  remember  and  carry  from  party  to  party.  And,  in  fact, 
Bilibin's  witticism's  made  the  rounds  of  Viennese  drawing- 
rooms —  leviots  de  Bilibin  se  colportaient  dans  le  salofis  de 
Vienne  —  and  often  had  an  effect  on  so-called  important 
events. 

His  thin,  weary-looking  sallow  face  was  covered  with  deep 
wrinkles,  which  always  seemed  clean  and  parboiled,  like  the 
ends  of  the  fingers  after  a  bath.  The  motions  of  these  wrin- 
kles constituted  the  principal  play  of  his  physiognomy. 

Now,  it  was  his  foreheiul  that  was  furrowed  with  broairl  lines 
and  his  eyebrows  were  lifted  high,  again  his  brows  were  con- 
tracted and  deep  lines  marked  his  cheeks.  His  deep-set  little 
eyes  looked  always  frank  and  cheerful. 

"  Now,  then,  tell  us  your  exploits,"  said  he. 

Bolkonsky,  in  the  most  modest  manner,  without  once  refer- 
ring to  himself,  told  him  of  the  combat  and  of  the  ministers' 
behavior.  "  They  received  me  and  the  news  that  I  brought 
like  a  dog  in  a  game  of  ninepins."  *  he  said,  in  conclusion. 

Bilibin  smiled,  and  the  wrinkles  in  his  face  relaxed. 
"  However,  man  cher"  said  he,  "  in  spite  of  the  high  estime 
which  I  profess  for  the  Orthodox  Kussian  army,  I  confess  that 
your  victory  is  not  one  of  the  most  victorious."  t 

*  "  Il8  m*ont  repi  avec  ma  nouvelle,  comme  un  ckien  dana  un  Jeu  de 
t  "J^avoue  que  votre  victoire  n'e$tpa$  clesplus  vietoritUKs" 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  183 

Thus  he  went  on^  all  the  time  speaking  in  French,  and  in- 
troducing Russian  words  only  when  he  wished  to  give  them  a 
scornful  emphasis.  '<  It  was  this  way,  wasn't  it  ?  You  fell 
with  all  your  overwhelming  numbers  upon  that  unhappy  Mor- 
tier,  and  yet  Mortier  slipped  between  your  hands  ?  Where 
was  the  victory  in  that  ?  " 

"  Well,  spesiing  seriously,"  replied  Prince  Andrei,  "  we  can, 
at  least,  say  without  boasting,  that  it  was  rather  better  than 
Ulni." 

"  Why  didn't  you  take  one,  at  least  one  marshal  prisoner  ?  " 
"Because  things  aren't  always  done  as  they  are  forecast, 
nor  cau  they  be  arranged  with  all  the  regularity  of  a  parade. 
We  expected,  33  I  told  you,  to  turn  their  flank  at  seven  o'clock 
in  the  morning,  and  we  did  not  succeed  till  five  in  the  even- 
ing." 

"  Why  didn't  you  succeed  by  seven  in  the  morning  ?  You 
ought  to  have  outflanked  them  by  seven  in  the  morning,"  said 
Bilibin,  smiling,  *'  you  ought  to  have  done  it  at  seven  in  the 
morning." 

"  Why  didn't  you  suggest  to  Bonaparte,  through  diplomatic 
agency,  that  he'd  better  abandon  Genoa,"  asked  Prince  Andrei, 
in  the  same  tone. 

"  I  know,"  interrupted  Bilibin,  "  as  you  sit  on  your  sofa  be- 
fore the  fire  you  think  that  it  is  very  easy  to  capture  marshals. 
It  is,  indeed,  but  why  didn't  you  capture  him  ?  And  don't  be 
surprised  that  neither  the  minister  of  war,  nor  his  most  august 
majesty,  the  emperor,  nor  King  Franz  is  very  grateful  for  your 
victory,  and  I  myself,  the  unfortunate  secretary  of  the  Russian 
legation,  feel  no  special  impulse  to  express  my  delight  by  giv- 
ing my  Franz  a  thaler  and  letting  him  take  his  Liebchen  for 
a  walk  in  the  prater.  To  be  sure,  there's  no  prater  here ! " 
He  looked  straight  at  Prince  Andrei,  and  suddenly  smoothed 
out  the  wrinkled  skin  upon  his  forehead. 

*•'  Now,  my  dear,  it  is  my  turn  to  ask  you  why,"  said  Bolkon- 
sky,  « I  assure  you,  I  cannot  understand,  —  perhaps  there  are 
diplomatic  subtleties  here  that  are  above  my  feeble  mind,  but 
I  cannot  understand :  Mack  has  destroyed  a  whole  army,  the 
Archduke  Ferdinand  and  the  Archduke  Karl  are  giving  no 
signs  of  life,  and  are  making  one  blunder  after  another; 
finally,  Kutuzof  alone  really  gains  a  victory,  destroys  the 
8peli  of  the  French,  —  le  eharme  des  Frangais  —  and  the  min- 
ister of  war  isn't  interested  enough  to  inquire  after  the 
details ! " 

^Thia  is  the  yery  reai^on,  my  deay,     Voyez  vous,  rmn  cherf 


184  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

liuiTah  for  the  Tsar !  for  llussia,  the  faith !  Tautga  est  bd  et 
bonf  all  that's  very  well  and  good!  but  what  do  we,  I  mean 
the  Austrian  Court,  care  for  your  victories  !  Only  bring  them 
your  fine  news  about  a  victory  won  by  the  Archduke  Karl,  or 
Ferdinand  —  un  archiduc  vaut  V autre  —  one  is  as  good  as  another, 
as  you  know  well,  a  victory,  even  though  it  were  only  over  a 
squad  of  Bonapaite's  firemen,  and  that  would  be  another  thing, 
we  should  proclaim  it  with  the  thimder  of  cannon.  But  this, 
as  a  matter  of  course,  can  only  vex  us.  The  Archduke  Karl  is 
doing  nothing,  the  Archduke  Ferdinand  covers  himself  with 
disgrace  ?  You  desert  Vienna,  you  no  longer  defend  it,  as 
though  you  said, '  God  is  with  us,  may  God  be  with  you  and  your 
capital.'  One  general,  whom  we  all  loved,  Schmidt,  you  allowed 
to  be  killed  by  a  bullet,  and  you  congratulate  us  on  the  victory ! 
Confess  that  nothing  could  be  imagined  more  exasperating 
than  this  news  which  you  bring.  C'est  comnie  unfait  exprtSy 
comme  un  fait  expres.  Moreover,  even  if  you  liad  won  the  most 
brilliant  victory,  even  if  the  Archduke  Karl  should,  what  change 
would  that  make  in  the  course  of  events  ?  It's  too  late  now, 
for  Vienna  has  been  occupied  by  the  French  army." 

*^  What !  occupied,  Vienna  occupied !  " 

**  Not  only  occupied,  but  Bonaparte  is  at  Schonbriinn,  and  the 
count,  pur  dear  friend,  Count  Vrbna,  has  gone  there  to  him  for 
orders." 

Bolkonsky,  after  his  fatigue  and  the  impressions  of  his  jour- 
ney, and  his  reception,  and  especially  since  his  dinner,  felt 
that  he  did  not  grasp  the  full  meaning  of  the  words  which  he 
heard. 

"  This  morning,  Count  Lichtenfels  was  here,"  continued  Bil- 
ibin,  "  and  showed  me  a  letter  containing  a  circumstantial  ac- 
count of  the  parade  of  the  French  in  Vienna.  Le  Prince  Murat 
et  tout  le  tremhlement  —  You  can  see  that  your  victory  is  not 
such  an  immense  delight,  and  you  can  hardly  be  regarded  as 
our  saviours." 

"  Truly,  as  far  as  1  am  concerned,  it  is  a  matter  of  indiifer- 
ence,  absolute  indifference,"  said  Prince  Andrei,  beginning  to 
comprehend  that  his  tidings  about  the  engagement  at  Rrems 
was  of  really  little  importance  compared  with  such  an  event  as 
the  occupation  of  the  Austrian  capital.  "  How  came  Vienna  to 
be  occupied  ?  How  about  the  bridge  and  that  famous  tete  de 
ponty  and  Prince  Auersj^erg  ?  It  was  reported  among  us  that 
Prince  Auersperg  was  defending  ViiMina,"  said  he. 

"  Prince  Auersperg  is  on  this  side,  on  our  side  of  the  Dan- 
ube, and  will  defend  us,  defend  us  very  wretchedly,  I  think. 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  185 

but  still,  he  will  defend  us.  And  Vienna  is  on  the  other  side. 
Xo,  the  bridge  is  not  taken  yet,  and  I  hope  it  will  not  be.  It 
baa  been  mined,  and  the  order  is  to  blow  it  up.  If  it  were  not 
for  that,  we  should  have  been  long  ago  in  the  mountains 
of  Bohemia,  and  you  and  your  army  would  have  spent  a 
wretched  quarter  of  an  hour  between  two  fires." 

^^  But  still  this  does  not  mean  that  the  campaign  is  at  an  end, 
does  it  ?  "  asked  Prince  Andrei. 

"Well,  it's  my  impression  that  it  is.  And'  so  think  the  big- 
wigs here,  but  they  dare  not  say  so.  What  I^aid  at  the  begin- 
ning of  the  campaign  will  come  true :  that  your  skinnish 
near  Durenstein  *  will  not  settle  the  affair,  nor  gunj)owder,  in 
any  case,  but  those  who  invented  it,"  said  Bilibin,  repeating 
one  of  his  niotSy  while  he  puckered  his  forehead  and  paused  a 
moment.  "  The  question  simjily  depends  on  this :  what  is  to 
be  the  outcome  of  the  Berlin  meeting  of  the  Emperor  with  the 
Prussian  king.  If  Prussia  joins  the  alliance,  on  forcera  la  main 
de  VAutrkhe  —  Austria's  hand  is  forced  —  and  there  will  be 
war.  But  if  not,  then  all  they  have  to  do  is  arrange  for  the 
preliminaries  of  a  second  Campo  Formio." 

"But  what  an  extraordinary  genius,"  suddenly  cried  Prince 
Andrei,  doubling  his  small  fist  and  pounding  the  table  with  it. 
"And  what  luck  that  man  has  !  " 

"  Who  ?  Buonaparte  ?  "  queried  Bilibin,  knitting  his  brow, 
and  thereby  signifying  that  he  was  going  to  get  off  a  witti- 
cism. "Buonaparte,"  he  repeated,  laying  a  special  emphasis 
on  the  u,  "  I  certainly  think  that  now  when  he  is  laying  down 
the  laws  for  Austria  from  Schoenbriinn,  he  must  be  spared 
thatu  —  ilfaut  luifaire  grace  de  Vu.  I  am  firmly  resolved  to 
make  the  innovation,  and  I  shall  call  him  Bonaparte  tout  cotirt,^^ 
"  No,  but  joking  aside,"  said  Prince  Andrei,  "  Is  it  possible 
that  you  think  the  campaign  is  finished  ?  " 

"This  is  what  I  think  ;  Austria  has  been  made  a  fool  of  and 
she  is  not  used  to  that.  And  she  will  take  her  revenge.  And 
she  has  been  made  a  fool  of  because  in  the  first  place  her  prov- 
inces have  been  pillaged  (it  is  said  the  Orthodox  est  terrible 
four  le  pillage),  her  army  is  beaten,  her  capital  is  taken,  and 
all  this  pour  les  beaux  yeux  of  the  King  of  Sardinia.  And  in 
the  second  place,  entre  nous,  mon  cher,  I  suspect  that  we  are 
being  duped,  I  suspect  dealings  with  France,  and  a  project  of 
peace,  a  secret  peace,  separately  concliuled." 

"lliat  cannot  be,"  said  Prince  Andrei,  "  That  would  be  too 
base." 

♦  *•  £chauff(ntr^e  de  Durenstein^** 


186  ^'^R  ASD  PEACE,  -    -: 

"  Qui  rirra,  rerra^  you  will  see/'  said  Bilibin^  scowling,  this 
time  in  a  way  that  signified  that  the  conYersation  was  at  an 
end. 

When  Prince  Andrei  went  to  the  chamber  that  had  been 
prepared  for  him,  and  stretched  himself  between  clean  sheets 
on  a  soft  down  mattress,  and  on  warm  perfumed  pillows,  he 
began  to  feel  that  the  battle,  the  report  of  which  he  had  brought, 
was  far,  far  away.  The  Prussian  alliance,  the  treachery  of 
Austria,  Bonaparte's  new  triumph,  the  parade  and  levee,  and 
his  reception  by  the  Emperor  Franz  the  next  day,  filled  his 
mind. 

He  closed  his  eyes,  but  instantly  his  ears  were  deafened  by 
the  cannonading,  the  musketry,  the  rumble  of  the  carriage 
wheels,  and  now  once  more  the  musketeers  came  marching  *in 
scattered  lines  down  the  hillside,  and  the  Frenchmen  were  fir- 
ing, and  he  felt  how  his  heart  thrilled,  and  he  galloped  on 
ahead,  with  Schmidt  at  his  side,  and  the  bullets  whistled  mer- 
rily around  him,  and  he  ex})erienced  such  a  feeling  of  intensi- 
fied delight  in  life  as  he  had  not  felt  since  childhood.  He 
awoke  with  a  start. 

"  Yes,  it  was  all  so  ! "  said  he,  smiling  to  himself,  a  happy, 
childlike  smile,  and  he  fell  asleep  with  the  sound  sleep  of 
youth. 

CHAPTER    XI. 

He  awoke  the  next  morning,  late.  Recalling  the  impres- 
sions of  the  previous  day,  he  remembered,  first  of  all,  that  he 
was  to  be  presented  that  day  to  the  Emperor  Franz,  he  remem- 
bered the  minister  of  war,  the  officiously  jwlite  Flugel-adjutant, 
Bilibin,  and  the  conversation  of  the  evening  before. 

Putting  on  his  full-dress  uniform,  which  he  had  not  worn 
for  a  long  time,  to  go  to  Court,  he  went  down  to  Bilibin's  study, 
with  his  hand  bandaged,  but  fresh,  full  of  spirits,  and  baud- 
some.  Four  young  gentlemen  connected  with  the  diplomatic 
corps  were  gathered  in  the  study.  Bolkonsky  was  already 
acquainted  with  Prince  Ippolit  Kuragin,  one  of  the  secretaries 
of  the  legation ;  Bilibin  introduced  him  to  the  others. 

The  gentlemen  at  Bilibin's  were  gay,  rich  young  men  of  fash- 
ion,  who  formed,  both  in  Vienna  and  here  in  Briinn,  an  exclus- 
ive circle,  which  Bilibin,  the  leader  of  it,  called  "  ours,"  les 
iiotres.  This  coferiey  composed  almost  exclusively  of  diplo- 
mats, were  occupied  with  the  doings  of  society,  their  relations 
to  certain  women,  and  their  duties  as  secretaries,  so  that  the 


WAR  AND  PEACE. 


1^ 


iaterests  of  war  and  diplomacy  were  a  sealed  book  to  tliem. 
The  gentlemen  apparently  took  to  Prince  Andrei,  and  adopted 
him  83  on^^khemselves  —  an  honor  which  they  did  not  confer 
upon  every  one. 

From  poUieness,  and  as  a  topic  for  beginning  conversation, 
they  asked  him  a  few  questions  about  the  army  and  the  battle, 
and  then  conversation  quickly  drifted  into  inconsequential  but 
jovial  sallies  of  wit  and  gossip. 

"  But  this  is  specially  good,"  said  one,  relating  the  misfor- 
tunes of  a  coUej^ue.  "  Especially  good,  when  the  chancellor 
himself  told  him  to  his  face  that  his  transfer  to  London  was  a 
promotion,  and  that  he  was  so  to  regard  it.  Can  you  imagine 
his  looks  at  hearing  that  ?  " 

"But  what  is  worse  than  all,  gentlemen,  I  must  expose  Ku- 
ragin :  a  man  is  in  trouble,  and  this  Don  Juan,  this  terrible 
man,  must  needs  take  advantage  of  it ! " 

Prince  Ippolit  was  stretched  out  in  a  Voltaire  chair,  with  his 
legs  thrown  over  the  arm.     He  laughed,  — 
"  Farhz-moi  de  ga  —  tell  me  about  it,"  said  he. 
"  0,  you  Don  Juan  ! "   "  0,  you  snake  ! "  said  various  voices. 
"You  don't  know,  Bolkonsky,"  said  Bilibin,  turning  to  Prince 
Andrei,  "  that  all  the  atrocities  committed  by  the  French  army 
(I  almost  said  the  Russian  army)  are  nothing  in  comparison 
with  what  this  man  has  been  doing  among  the  ladies !  " 

"Za  femrrve  est  la  compagne  de  Vhomme  —  woman  is  man's 
helpmeet,"  said  Prince  Ippolit  sententiously,  and  he  began  to 
stare  through  his  lorgnette  at  his  elevated  feet. 

Bilibin  and  "our  fellows"  roared,  as  they  looked  at  Prince 
Ippolit.  Prince  Andrei  saw  that  this  young  man  of  whom  (it 
must  be  confessed)  he  had  almost  been  jealous  was  the  butt 
for  this  circle. 

"I  must  give  you  a  little  sport  with  Kuragin,"  whispered 
Bilibin  to  Bolkonsky.  "It's  rich  to  hear  him  talk  about 
politics !    YoTi  must  see  what  an  important  air  he  assumes." 

He  took  a  seat  near  Ippolit  and  wrinkling  his  brows  porten- 
tously, began  to  draw  him  into  a  conversation  on  political 
affairs. 
Prince  Andrei  and  the  others  gathered  around  the  two. 
"The  cabinet  cannot  express  any  thought  of  an  alliance," 
began  Ippolit,  letting  his  eyes  wander  significantly  from  one 
to  the  other,  "  without  expressing  —  as  in  its  last  note  — 
vous  eamprenez  —  vous  compreriez  —  and  then  if  his  majesty  the 
Emperor  does  not  go  back  on  his  principles,  our  alliance  — 
AtUndeZy  1  have  not  finished,"  said  he  to  Prince  Andrei,  seiz- 


ft 8  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

ing  him  by  the  arm,  ^'I  supx)ose  that  intervention  will  be 
stronger  than  non-intervention,  and"  —  He  was  silent  for  a 
moment,  —  "the  non-receipt  of  our  despatch  of  the  twenty- 
eighth  of  November  cannot  be  charged  as  intentional.  That 
will  be  the  end  of  it." 

And  he  let  go  of  Bolkonsky's  arm,  signifying  that  now  he 
was  entirely  done. 

"  Demosthenes  I  recognize  thee  by  the  pebble  which  thou 
hast  coilcealed  in  this  golden  mouth,"  *  said  Bilibin,  liis  cap  of 
hair  moving  on  his  head  with  satisfaction. 

All  laughed.  Ippolit  laughed  louder  than  the  rest.  He 
was  evidently  not  at  his  ease  and  could  not  get  his  breath,  but 
he  was  unable  to  refrain  from  the  forced  laugh  that  distorted 
his  usually  impassive  face. 

"  Now  then,  gentlemen,"  said  Bilibin,  *•  Bolkonsky  is  a  guest 
at  my  house  here  in  Briinn,  and  I  am  anxious  to  treat  him  well 
and  give  liim  a  taste  of  all  of  our  pleasures  here  so  far  as  pos- 
sible. If  we  were  in  Vienna  this  would  be  easy,  but  here  —  in 
this  beastly  Moravian  hole  —  ce  vUain  trou  Tuorace,  it  will  be 
harder  and  1  beg  you  all  to  lend  me  your  aid.  Ufaut  luifaire 
les  honneurs  de  Brunii.  You  undertake  the  theatres ;  I  will 
introduce  him  to  society ;  you,  Ippolit,  of  course,  the  ladies." 

"  I  must  show  him  Amelie,  she's  a  beauty  ! "  said  one  of  the 
circle,  kissing  the  ends  of  his  fingers. 

"  All  in  all,  this  bloodthirsty  soldier,"  said  Bilibin,  "must  be 
brought  to  more  humane  views." 

"  It  is  doubtful  if  I  can  profit  by  your  hospitality,  gentle- 
men, for  now  it  is  time  for  me  to  go  out,"  said  Bolkonsky,  look- 
ing at  his  watch. 

"  Where  ?  " 

"  To  the  emperor." 

«Oh!_oh!  — oh!" 

"  Well,  au  revoir,  Bolkonsky.  Good-by  prince ;  come  back 
to  dinner  as  early  as  you  can,"  shouted  several  voices.  *'  We 
will  look  out  for  you." 

"  Try  to  say  as  much  as  you  can  in  praise  of  the  commissa- 
riat and  the  roads,  when  you  speak  to  the  emperor,"  said  Bili- 
bin, as  he  accompanied  Bolkonsky  into  the  entry. 

"  I  wish  I  could  say  flattering  things,  but  I  cannot,"  said 
Bolkonsky  with  a  smile. 

"Well,  then,  do  just  as  much  of  the  talking  as  you  can.  His 
passion  is  for  audiences,  but  he  does  not  like  to  talk,  and  lie 
does  not  know  how,  as  you  will  see  for  yourself." 

♦  D^mogthcncSfje  (e  reconnais  au  caillou  que  tu  as  cachi  Uatis  ta  bouche  cl'or. 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  189 


CHAPTER  XIL 

At  the  levee,' Prince  Andrei,  who  stood  in  the  place  appointed 
among  the  Austrian  officers,  merely  received  a  long  fixed  stare 
from  the  Emperor  Franz,  and  a  slight  inclination  of  liis  long 
head.  But  after  the  levee,  the  Flugel-adjutant  of  the  evening 
before,  politely  communicated  to  Bolkonsky  the  emperor's 
desire  to  give  him  an  audience.  The  Emperor  Franz  received 
Iiim  standing  in  the  middle  of  his  room.  Before  beginning  the 
conversation,  Prince  Andrei  was  struck  by  the  evident  confus- 
ion of  the  emperor,  who  reddened  and  did  not  know  what  to  say. 

"Tell  me  when  the  action  began,"  he  asked  hurriedly. 

Prince  Andrei  told  him.  This  question  was  followed  by 
others,  no  less  simple :  "  Is  Kutuzof  well  ?  How  long  ago 
did  he  leave  Krems  ? "  and  so  on.  The  emperor  spoke  as 
though  his  whole  aim  were  to  ask  a  certain  number  of  ques- 
tions. The  answers  to  these  questions,  as  he  made  only  too 
evident,  did  not  interest  him. 

"At  what  hour  did  the  engagement  begin?"  asked  the 
emperor. 

"I  cannot  tell,  your  majesty,  at  what  hour  the  fighting  began 
on  the  front,  but  at  Diirenstein,  where  I  happened  to  be,  the 
army  made  the  first  attack  at  six  o'clock  in  the  evening,"  said 
Bolkonsky  ej^rly,  for  he  supposed  that  now  he  had  a  chance 
to  enter  into  the  carefully  prepared  and  accurate  description 
of  all  that  he  had  seen  and  knew.  But  the  emperor  smiled 
and  interrupted  him,  — 

"How  many  miles  is  it  ?  " 

"  From  where  and  to  where,  your  majesty  ?  " 

"From  Diirenstein  to  Krems?" 

"Three  miles  and  a  half,  your  majesty." 

"Have  the  French  abandoned  the  left  bank  ?  " 

"According  to  the  reports  of  our  scouts,  the  last  of  them 
crossed  that  same  night  on  rafts." 

"Plenty  of  provender  at  Krems  ?  " 

"Provender  was  not  furnished  in  that  abundance  which"—. 

But  the  emperor  interrupted  him:  "At  what  hour  was 
General  Schmidt  killed  ?  " 

"At  seven  o'clock,  I  should  think." 

"At  seven  o^clock !     Very  sad  1  very  sad ! " 

Then  the  emperor  thanked  him  and  made  him  a  bow. 
Prince  Andrei  left  the  audience  chamber  and  was  immediately 


IdO  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

surroiinded  by  courtiers  coining  from  all  sides.  From  all  sides 
flattering  glances  rested  on  him  and  flattering  words  were  heard 
around  him.  The  Flugel-adjutant  reproached  him  for  not  hav- 
ing put  up  at  the  palace  and  offered  him  the  use  of  his  rooms. 
The  minister  of  war  came  and  congratulated  him  on  having 
received  the  order  of  Maria  Theresa  of  the  third  degree,  which 
the  emperor  had  conferred  upon  him.  The  empress's  chamber- 
lain invited  him  to  wait  upon  her  majesty.  The  grand  duchess 
also  desired  to  see  him.  He  did  not  know  whom  to  answer 
first,  and  it  took  him  several  seconds  to  collect  his  wits.  The 
Russian  ambassador  put  his  hand  on  his  shoulder,  drew  him 
into  a  window,  and  began  to  talk  with  him. 

In  spite  of  Bilibin's  prognostications,  the  news  brought  by 
Bolkonsky  was  joyfully  hailed.  A  thanksgiving  Te  Deum  was 
ordained,  Kutuzof  was  decorated  with  the  grand  cross  of 
Maria  Theresa,  and  all  the  army  was  rewarded.  Bolkonsky 
was  overwhelmed  with  invitations,  and  was  obliged  to  spend 
the  whole  morning  in  making  calls  upon  the  principal  digni- 
taries of  Austria. 

Having  finished  his  calls,  about  five  o'clock  in  the  afternoon 
Prince  Andrei,  mentally  composing  a  letter  to  his  father  about 
the  engagement  and  his  visit  to  Brtinn,  returned  to  Bilibin's 
lodgings.  At  the  door  of  the  house  occupied  by  Bilibin  stood 
a  britzska  half  full  of  luggage,  and  Franz,  Bilibin's  valet,  was 
just  coming  out,  laboriously  dragging  another  trunk. 

On  his  way  back  to  Bilibin's,  Prince  Andrei  had  stepped 
into  a  bookstall,  to  lay  in  a  store  of  books  for  his  campaign, 
and  had  spent  some  time  there. 

"  What  does  this  mean  ?  "  asked  Bolkonsky. 

"Alas!  your  excellency  ! "  said  Franz,  with  difficulty  tum- 
bling the  trunk  into  the  britzska :  "  We're  going  farther  off. 
The  rascal  is  after  us  again."  * 

"  But  what  is  it  ?  What  does  it  mean  ?  "  demanded  Prince 
Andrei.  Bilibin  came  out  to  meet  Bolkonsky.  His  usually 
tranquil  face  showed  traces  of  excitement. 

"Well,  well,  confess  that  it's  delightful,"  said  he,  "this 
story  of  the  Thabor  bridge  [the  bridge  at  Vienna],  They 
crossed  it  without  striking  a  blow."  t 

Prince  Andrei  still  failed  to  understand.  "  Where  have  you 
been  that  you  don't  know  what  every  coachman  in  the  city  has 
heard  long  since." 

*  Ach  !  Erlavrht  !  Wir  Ziehen  noch  welter*  Der  Bdsewicht  ist  tchon  toieder 
hinter  wis  her. 

t  Non,  norij  uvouez  q\ie  c*esi  charmant  que  cette  hiitoire  dtipont  de  Thabor, 
Us  I'onl  passif  sans  conpf^rir. 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  191 

"I  have  jxist  come  from  the  grand  duchess's.  I  heard  noth- 
ing of  it  there." 

"And  haven't  you  noticed  that  everywhere  they're  packing 
up?" 

"No,  I  haven't. —  But  what  is  the  trouble  ?  "  asked  Prince 
Andrei  impatiently. 

"  What  is  the  trouble  ?  The  trouble  is  that  the  French 
have  crossed  the  bridge  which  Auersperg  was  defending,  and 
the  bridge  was  not  blown  up,  so  that  Murat  is  now  hastening 
down  the  road  to  Briinn,  and  they  will  be  here  to-day  or 
to-morrow." 

"  Be  here  ?  But  why  was  the  bridge  not  blown  up,  when  it 
was  mined  ?  " 

"Well,  that's  what  I  ask  you.  No  one,  not  even  Bonaparte 
knows  that."- 

Bolkousky  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "  But  if  the  bridge  is 
crossed,  the  army  is  destroyed ;  of  course  it  will  be  cut  off," 
said  he. 

"That's  the  joke  of  the  thing,"  rejoined  Bilibin.  "Listen ! 
The  French  enter  Vienna,  just  as  I  told  you.  All  very  good. 
On  the  next  day, — that  is  yesterday, —  Messrs.  Marshals  Murat, 
Lannes  and  Belliard  mount  their  horses  and  ride  down  to  the 
bridge  (notice,  all  three  of  them  are  Gascons).  *  Gentlemen,' 
says  one  of  them,  'you  know  that  the  Thabor  bridge  is  mined 
and  countermined  and  that  in  front  of  it  is  a  terrible  tete  de 
pont  and  fifteen  thousand  men,  who  are  commanded  to  blow 
up  the  bridge  and  not  allow  us  to  pass.  But  our  master,  the 
Emperor  Napoleon,  would  be  pleased  if  we  took  that  bridge. 
Let  us  three  go  therefore  and  take  that  bridge.'  '  Yes,  let  us 
go,'  said  the  other,  and  they  go  to  it  and  take  it  and  cross  it, 
and  now  they  are  on  this  side  of  the  Danube  with  their  whole 
army,  and  are  in  full  march  against  us  and  against  your  com- 
mnnications." 

"A  truce  to  jesting,"  said  Prince  Andrei,  becoming  melan- 
choly and  serious.  This  news  was  sad,  and  at  the  same  time 
pleasant  to  him.  As  soon  as  he  knew  that  the  Russian  army 
was  in  such  a  hopeless  situation,  it  occurred  to  him  that  he  him- 
self was  the  one  called  ui)Ou  to  rescue  it  from  this  situation,  — 
that  this  was  his  Toulon,  destined  to  lift  him  from  the  throng 
of  insignificant  officers  and  ()i)en  to  him  the  straight  path  of 
glory !  Even  while  he  was  listening  to  Bililbin,  he  was  pictur- 
ing himself  going  back  to  the  army,  and  there,  in  a  council  of 
war,  proiX)sing  a  plan  which  alone  might  save  them,  and  that 
to  him  alone  it  was  granted  to  accomplish  this  plan. 


192  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

"  A  truce  to  jesting,"  said  he. 

"  I  am  not  jesting,"  insisted  Bilibin,  "  Nothing  is  more  ver- 
acious or  more  melancholy.  These  gentlemen  ride  upon  the 
bridge  without  escort,  displaying  their  white  handkerchiefs ; 
they  assert  that  there  is  an  armistice,  and  that  they,  the  mar- 
shals, have  come  over  to  talk  with  Prince  Auersperg.  The 
officer  on  guard  lets  them  into  the  tete  de  pant.  They  give 
him  a  thousand  choice  speciments  of  gasconade ;  they  say  that 
the  war  is  ended,  that  the  Emperor  Franz  has  decided  upon  a 
conference  with  Bonaparte,  that  they  wanted  to  see  Prince 
Auersperg,  and  a  thousand  other  trumpery  lies.  The  officer 
sends  for  Auersperg;  these  gentlemen  embrace  the  officers, 
jest,  sit  astride  the  cannon,  and  meantime  a  French  battalion 
quietly  crosses  the  bridge  and  flings  the  bags  with  the  combusti- 
bles into  the  water  and  enters  the  tete  de  pont.  At  last  the 
lieutenant-general,  our  dear  Prince  Auersperg  von  Mautem 
himself,  appears  on  the  scene.  *  Our  dear  enemy !  Flower  of  the 
Austrian  army,  hero  of  the  Turkish  wars !  Our  enmity  is  at  an 
end,  we  can  shake  hands.  The  Emperor  Napoleon  is  dying 
with  anxiety  to  make  the  acquaintainee  of  Prince  Auersperg ! ' 

"In  one  word,  these  gentlemen,  who  are  not  Gascons  for 
nothing,  so  bejuggle  Auersy^erg  with  fine  words,  he  is  so 
ravished  by  this  rapidly  instituted  intimacy  with  the  French 
marshals,  so  dazzled  by  the  sight  of  Murat's  mantle  and 
ostrich  feathera,  that  he  doesn't  see  the  point,  and  quite  for- 
gets that  he  himself  ought  to  be  pointing  at  the  enemy."  * 

Notwithstanding  the  vehemence  of  his  remarks,  Bilibin  did 
not  fail  to  pause  after  this  mot,  so  as  to  allow  Bolkonsky 
time  to  appreciate  it. 

"The  French  battalions  run  on  the  bridge, spike  the  cannon, 
and  capture  the  bridge !  the  bridge  is  theirs !  But  this  is  best  of 
all,"  he  went  on  to  say,  allowing  the  fascination  of  his  narrative 
to  keep  his  excitement  within  bounds,  "this, — that  the  sergeant, 
who  had  charge  of  the  cannon,  the  discharge  of  which  was  to 
explode  the  mines  and  blow  up  the  bridge,  this  sergeant,  1 
say,  seeing  the  French  soldiers  running  over  the  bridge,  was 
just  going  to  fire  his  gun,  but  Lannes  pulled  away  his  hand. 
The  sergeant  who  was  evidently  more  intelligent  than  his  gen- 
eral, hastens  to  Auersperg  and  says  :  '  Prince,  you  are  imposed 
upon,  the  French  are  here ! ' 

"  Murat  sees  that  their  game  is  played  if  the  sergeant  is  al- 
lowed to  speak  further.     With  pretended  surprise  (true  Gascon 

•  Qit*il  rCy  voit  que  du  feu,  et  oiiblie  cehii  qu*il  devaii  /aire  /aire  ttir 
Vennemi,** 


WAR  AND  PSACn,  193 

that  he  is)  he  turns  to  Auersperg,  ^  I  don't  see  in  this  anything 
of  your  world-renowned  Austrian  discipline/  says  he.  *  Do  you 
allow  a  man  of  inferior  rank  to  speak  to  you  so  ? '  It  was  a 
stroke  of  genius.  Prince  Auersperg  prides  himself  on  puncti- 
lio and  has  the  sergeant  put  under  arrest.  But  you  must  con- 
fess that  all  this  story  of  the  Thabor  bridge  is  perfectly 
delightful.    It  was  neither  stupidity  nor  cowardice."  *^ 

^^Cegt  trahison peut-etre — Perhaps  it  is  treason,  though,"  said 
Prince  Andrei,  his  imagination  vividly  bringing  up  before  him 
the  gray  capotes,  the  wounds,  the  gunpowder  smoke,  the 
sounds  of  battle,  and  the  glory  which  was  awaiting  him. 

"Not  at  all.  This  puts  the  Court  in  the  most  stupid  posi- 
tion," continued  Bilibin,  "  it  is  neither  treason  nor  cowardice, 
nor  stupidity,  it's  just  the  same  as  at  Ulm."  He  paused, 
as  though  trying  to  find  a  suitable  expression  :  "  C'est  —  t^est 
du  Maek.  Nous  sommes  Mackes  —  we  are  Macked  !  "  he  said, 
at  last  satisfied  that  he  had  coined  un  mot,  and  a  brilliant  maty 
such  an  one  as  would  be  repeated.  The  wrinkles  that  had 
been  deeply  gathering  on  his  forehead  quickly  smoothed  them- 
selves out,  in  token  of  his  contentment,  and  with  a  slight  smile 
ou  his  lips,  he  began  to  contemplate  his  finger  nails. 

"Where  are  you  going?"  he  asked,  suddenly  turning  to 
Prince  Andrei,  who  had  got  up  and  was  starting  for  his  cham- 
ber 

"I'm  off." 

"Where?" 

"To the  army!" 

"But  you  intended  to  stop  two  days  longer,  didn't  you  ?  " 

"Yes,  but  now  I'm  going  immediately."  And  Prince  Andrei, 
having  given  his  orders  for  the  carriage,  went  to  his  room. 

"Do  you  know,  my  dear  fellow  ?  "  said  Bilibin,  coming  into 
his  room,  "do  you  know,  I  have  been  thinking  about  you.  — 
Why  are  you  going  ? ''  And  in  testimony  of  the  irrefragibil- 
ity  of  his  argument  against  it,  all  the  wrinkles  vanished  from 
his  face. 

Prince  Andrei  looked  inquiringly  at  his  friend,  and  made 
no  reply. 

"  Why  are  you  going  ?  —  I  know  ;  you  think  that  it  is  your 
fluty  to  hurry  back  to  the  army,'now,  when  it  is  in  danger.  I 
understand  it,  mon  eher ;  (^est  de  Vheroismey 

"Not  at  all,"  said  Prince  Andrei." 

*  Cm/  g^nial^  Le  prince  d* Auersperg  se  pique  d'honnevr  et  fait  mettre  le 
fergent  nuz  arrets.  Jvitm,  mais  avouez  vovs  qve  e'est  charrnant  toute  cette 
hutoire  du  pont  de  Tfiabor.     CTest  ni  belise,  ni  lavheti. 

VOL.  1.  — 13. 


194  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

'*  Bat  yoQ  are  un  pkilasaphe ;  be  one  absolutely ;  look  at 
things  from  the  other  side,  and  jon  will  see  that  your  duty,  on 
the  contrary,  is  to  preserve  yourself.  Leave  this  to  others 
who  are  not  fit  for  anything  else.  You  have  had  no  orders  to 
return,  and  you  won't  be  allowed  to  go  from  here,  so  of  course 
you  can  stay,  and  go  with  us  wherever  our  unhappy  lot  carries 
us.  They  say  we  are  going  to  Olmutz.  And  Olmiitz  is  a  very 
nice  little  city.  And  you  and  I  can  make  the  journey  very 
comfortably  in  my  calash." 

'^  Cease  your  jesting,  Bilibin,"  said  Bolkonsky. 

"  I  am  speaking  to  you  sincerely,  and  as  your  friend.  Judge 
for  yourself.  Where,  and  for  what  purpose,  are  you  going 
now,  when  you  can  remain  here  ?  One  of  two  things  will  hap- 
pen to^ou  (here  he  managed  to  gather  a  fold  of  wrinkles  under 
his  left  temple) :  either  peace  will  be  concluded  before  you 
reach  the  army,  or  else  defeat  and  disgrace  await  you  with  the 
rest  of  Kutuzofs  army."  And  Bilibin  smoothed  the  skin  again, 
feeling  that  the^  dilemma  was  unavoidable. 

''  Of  that  I  am  not  in  a  position  to  judge,"  said  Prince 
Andrei,  coldly ;  but  he  thought  in  his  own  mind,  '^  I  am  going 
to  save  the  army." 

"Mon  cheVy  vans  etes  un  heros  /  "  said  Bilibin. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

That  same  night,  having  taken  his  leave  of  the  minister  of 
war,  Bolkonsky  set  out  for  the  army,  though  he  did  not  him- 
self know  where  he  should  find  it,  and  had  some  apprehensions 
lest  on  the  road  to  Krems  he  should  be  captured  by  the 
French. 

At  Briinn,  all  the  Court  were  engaged  in  packing,  and  the 
heavy  luggage  had  already  been  despatched  to  Olmutz. 

Near  Etzelsdorf,  Prince  Andrei  struck  the  highway  over 
which  the  Russian  army  was  moving  in  the  greatest  haste  and 
the  greatest  disorder.  The  road  was  so  encumbered  with 
teams,  that  it  was  impossible  for  a  carriage  to  make  its 
way  along.  Having  secured  from  the  head  of  the  Cossack 
division  a  horse  and  Cossack,  i'rince  Andrei,  hungry  and  tired, 
managed  to  get  past  the  teams,  and  at  last  drove  on  in  search 
of  the  commander-in-chief,  and  his  own  train.  The  most  omi- 
nous reports  of  the  condition  of  the  army  had  reached  him  on 
his  way,  and  these  reports  were  more  than  confirmed  by  the 
sight  of  the  army  hurrying  on  in  disorder. 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  195 

''This  Russian  armjy  which  English  gold  has  brought 
together  from  the  ends  of  the  universe,  we  shall  make  it  suffer 
the  same  fate  (the  fate  of  Ulm)."  * 

Bolkonsky  remembered  these  words  from  Bonapai-te's  gen- 
eral orders  to  his  army  at  the  beginning  of  the  campaign,  and 
these  words  inspired  in  him  an  admiration  for  the  genius  of 
his  hero,  together  with  a  sense  of  wounded  pride  and  a  hope  of 
glory. 

"  But  suppose  nothing  be  left  me  but  to  die  ?  "  he  said  to 
himself.  "  Well  then,  be  it  so,  if  it  is  necessary.  I  shall  not 
die  more  shamefully  than  others." 

Prince  Andrei  looked  contemptuously  at  the  endless  confus- 
ion of  detachments,  baggage  wagons,  field-pieces  and  gun  car- 
riages, and  again,  baggage  wagons,  baggage  wagons,  baggage 
wagons,  of  every  possible  description,  trying  to  outstrip  each 
other,  and  getting  in  each  other's  way,  as  they  toiled  along  over 
the  muddy  road,  three  and  four  abreast.  In  all  directions,  in 
front  as  well  as  behind,  wherever  the  ear  listened,  were  heard 
the  creaking  of  wheels,  the  rumble  of  vehicles,  carts  and  gun 
carriages,  the  trampling  of  horses'  feet,  the  cracking  of  whips, 
the  shouts  of  drivers,  the  cursing  of  soldiers,  denshchiks  and 
officers. 

Along  the  borders  of  the  highway  were  everywhere  seen  the 
carcasses  of  horses  that  had  fallen,  and  been  left,  either  flayed 
or  not  flayed,  as  the  case  might  be ;  then  broken^own  wagons, 
by  which  solitary  soldiers  sat  waiting  for  something ;  then, 
again,  he  saw  little  detachments  of  troops  straying  from  the 
ittain  column  and  hastening  to  scattered  villages,  or  coming 
back  from  them,  with  hens,  sheep,  hay,  or  bags  filled  with  va- 
rious objects. 

On  the  slopes  and  rises,  the  groups  crowded  together  still 
more  densely,  and  an  uninterrupted  tumult  of  noises  arose. 
Soldiers  plodding  through  mud  up  to  their  knees  helped  to  drag 
by  main  force,  the  field-pieces  and  wagons.  Whips  cracked, 
boofs  slipped,  traces  strained,  and  throats  were  split  with 
shouting.  The  officers,  who  directed  the  retreat,  galloijed 
Wk  and  forth  among  the  wagons.  Their  voices  were  hardly 
distinguishable  above  the  general  uproar,  and  it  could  be  seen 
by  their  faces  that  they  were  in  despair  at  the  possibility  of 
rwlueinjT  this  chaos  into  order. 

"  Voila  U  cher  Orthodox  army,"  said  Bolkonsky  to  himself, 
quoting  Bilibin's  words. 

*'\Ctne  armie  russe  que  Vor  deVAngleterre  a  iransporU de»  extrimesde 
"univtTM,  iwus  aliens /aire  ^prouver  le  mime  sort" 


106  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

Wishing  to  inquire  of  some  of  these  inen  where  the  com- 
roaader-in-chief  was  to  be  found,  he  galloped  up  to  the  train. 
Directly  opposite  to  him  was  an  odd  equipage,  a  sort  of  cross  be- 
tween a  cart,  a  cabriolet,  and  a  calash,  drawn  by  one  horse,  and 
evidently  constructed  out  of  some  soldier's  domestic  belongings. 
This  vehicle  was  driven  by  a  soldier,  and  under  the  leather 
cever,  behind  the  apron,  sat  a  woman  all  wrapped  up  in  shawls. 

Prince  Andrei  rode  up  and  was  just  going  to  question  the 
soldier,  when  his  attention  was  attracted  by  the  despairing 
shrieks  of  the  woman  sitting  in  the  vehicle.  An  officer,  who 
had  charge  of  the  train,  had  set  to  beating  her  driver  because 
he  attempted  to  pass  ahead  of  the  others,  and  the  blows  of  the 
whip  fell  on  the  apron.  The  woman  was  screaming  desper- 
ately. Seeing  Prince  Andrei,  she  thrust  her  head  out  from 
under  the  hood,  and  waving  her  thin  arms,  freed  from  the 
shawls,  she  cried, — 

"Adjutant!  Mr.  Adjutant!  for  God's  sake,  protect  me! 
What  is  going  to  happen  ?  I  am  the  doctor's  wife,  of  the 
Seventh  Jagers.  They  won't  let  us  pass,  we  are  left  behind,  and 
have  lost  our  friends." 

"  I  will  knock  you  flatter  than  a  pancake !  turn  l)aek ! " 
cried  the  officer,  angrily,  to  the  soldier,  "  back  with  you,  and 
take  your  jade  1 " 

"  Mr.  Adjutant,  help  me  !  What  can  I  do  ?  "  cried  the  doc- 
tor's wife. 

"Please  let  this  team  pass.  Don't  you  see  that  it  is  a 
woman  ?  "  said  Prince  Andrei,  riding  up  to  the  officer. 

The  officer  glanced  at  him,  and  without  saying  a  word, 
turned  to  the  soldier  again.     "  I'll  teach  you.     Back !  " 

"  Let  them  pass,  I  tell  you,"  repeated  Prince  Andrei,  com- 
pressing his  lips. 

"  Who  are  you,  anyway  ?  "  suddenly  cried  the  officer,  turn- 
ing to  Prince  Andrei,  in  a  drunken  fury.  "  Who  are  you  ?  (he 
addressed  him  insolently,  with  a  special  emphasis  on  the  pro- 
noun.) Are  you  coniinaiider  here  ?  I'm  the  commander  here, 
and  not  you !  Back  with  you,  I'll  knock  you  flatter'n  a  pan- 
cake."    This  ex])rpssion  had  evidently  pleased  the  officer. 

"  He  gave  the  little  adjutant  a  capital  rating,"  said  a  voice* 
behind. 

Prince  Andrei  saw  that  the  officer  had  got  into  one  of  those 
paroxysms  of  drunken  fury  in  which  a  man  is  not  responsible 
for  what  he  says.  He  saw  that  his  interference  in  the  troubles 
of  the  doctor's  wife  was  attended  with  what  he  feared  more 
than  aught  else  in  the  world,  —  being  made  ridiculous,  but  in- 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  197 

stinct  immediately  came  to  his  aid.  The  officer  had  not  time 
to  finish  what  he  was  saying,  before  Triuce  Andrei,  his  face 
distorted  by  rage^  rode  up  to  him  and  threw  up  his  whip : 
"Have  the  goodness  to  let  them  pass !  " 

The  oificer  made  an  angry  gesture  and  hastily  rode  off.  ''  It 
aU  comes  from  them,  from  these  staff  officers,  all  this  disorder 
does,"  he  muttered.     "  Do  as  you  please." 

Prince  Andrei  hastily  rode  away,  without  looking  up  or  heed- 
ing the  thanks  of  the  doctor's  wife,  who  called  him  her  pre- 
server, and,  recalling  with  disgust  the  particulars  of  this  humil- 
iating scene,  he  galloped  towai'd  the  village  where  he  had  been 
told  that  the  commander-in-chief  was  to  be  found. 

When  he  reached  this  village,  he  dismounted  and  started  for 
the  first  house,  intending  to  rest,  if  only  for  a  minute,  and  get 
something  to  eat  and  try  to  banish  all  the  humiliating  thoughts 
that  tortured  him.  "  This  is  a  troop  of  footpads  and  not  an 
army,"  he  was  saying  to  himself,  when,  just  as  he  happened 
to  look  up  at  the  window  of  the  first  house,  a  well-known  voice 
called  him  by  name. 

He  looked  up  and  saw  Nesvitsky's  handsome  face  thrust  out 
of  the  little  window.  Nesvitsky,  vigorously  chewing  some- 
thing in  his  moist  mouth,  was  waving  his  hand  and  calling 
him  to  come  in. 

"  Bolkonsky  !  Bolkonsky  !  Don't  you  hear  me  ?  Come 
quick ! "  he  cried. 

Entering  the  house.  Prince  Andrei  found  Nesvitsky  and 
another  adjutant  having  some  lunch.  They  turned  eagerly  to 
Bolkonsky,  with  the  question  whether  he  had  brought  anything 
new  ?  Prince  Andrei  read  in  their  familiar  faces  an  expression 
of  alarm  and  uneasiness.  This  expression  was  especially  no- 
ticeable on  Nesvitsky's  usually  jolly  face. 

"  Wliere  is  the  commander-in-chief  ?  "  asked  Bolkonsky. 

"Here,  in  this  very  house,"  replied  the  adjutant. 

"  Tell  us,  is  it  true  there  is  peace  and  a  capitulation  ?  "  de- 
manded Nesvitsky. 

"I  should  have  to  ask  you  that !  I  know  nothing,  except 
that  I  had  great  trouble  in  finding  you." 

"  Ajid  what  sort  of  a  plight  do  you  find  us  in !  It's  horrible, 
niy  dear  fellow ;  I  plead  guilty  for  having  laughed  at  Mack, 
hat  here  we  are  in  a  far  worse  position,  brother,"  said  Nesvit- 
sky.   "  But  sit  down,  and  have  something  to  eat." 

"Now,  prince,  you  won't  find  your  luggage,  or  anything, 
and  only  God  knows  where  your  man,  Piotr,  is,"  said  the  other 
adjutant. 


198  WAR  AXD  PEACE. 

"Where's  the  headquarters  ? " 

"  We  are  Jbo  spend  the  night  at  Znaim." 

"  And  I  had  everything  that  I  needed  packed  on  two  horses/' 
said  Nesvitsky,  "  and  they  made  me  some  splendid  paek-sad- 
dies.  Even  though  we  should  have  to  worry  through  the  moun- 
tains of  Bohemia.  It's  a  bad  state  of  things,  brother.  What's  the 
matter  ?  Aren't  you  well,  you  shake  so  ?  "  asked  Nesvitsky, 
noticing  that  a  sudden  tremor  ran  over  Prince  Andrei,  as  though 
from  the  discharge  of  a  Leyden  jar. 

"  Nothing  is  the  matter,"  i*eplied  Prince  Andrei.  He  hap- 
I>ened  at  that  instant  to  re  mem  lie  r  his  recent  encounter  with 
the  doctor's  wife  and  the  officer  of  the  baggage  train. 

**  What's  the  commander-in-chief  doing  here  ?  "  he  went  on 
to  ask.     *'  I  haven't  the  least  idea,"  replied  Nesvitsky. 

"  All  I  know  is  that  it  is  all  a  nasty,  nasty,  nasty  business," 
said  Prince  Andrei,  and  he  started  for  the  house  where  the 
commander-in-chief  was. 

Passing  by  Kutuzof's  carriage,  the  jaded  saddle-horses  of  his 
suite,  and  the  vociferating  Cossacks,  he  went  into  the  cottage. 
Kutuzof  himself,  as  Prince  Andrei  had  been  told,  was  in  the 
cottage  with  Prince  Bagration  and  Weirother.  Weirotherwas 
the  Austrian  general  who  had  succeeded  to  the  place  of  the 
Schmidt  who  had  been  killed. 

In  the  entry,  the  little  Kozlovsky  was  squatting  on  his  heels 
before  a  clerk.  The  clerk,  with  his  cuffs  rolled  up,  was  hastily 
writing,  with  a  tub  turned  over  for  a  desk.  Kozlovsky's  face 
looked  pinched  and  wan ;  he  had  evidently  not  slept  the  night 
before.  He  glanced  up  as  Prince  Andrei  came  in,  but  he  did 
not  even  nod  to  him. 

"  Second  line.  Have  you  written  it  ?  "  said  he,  proceeding 
with  what  he  was  dictating  to  the  clerk :  "  The  Kief  grenadiei-s, 
the  Podolian  " — 

"  Don't  go  so  fast,  your  honor,"*  said  the  clerk  in  a  disre* 
spectful  and  surly  manner,  looking  up  at  Kozlovsky. 

Kutuzof's  animated  and  impatient  voice  was  at  this  moment 
heard  in  the  room  beyond,  answered  by  another  which  Prince 
Andrei  did  not  recognize.  By  the  sound  of  these  two  voices, 
by  the  preoccupied  way  in  which  Kozlovsky  glanced  up  at  him, 
by  the  surly  disrespect  shown  by  the  clerk,  by  the  fact  that 
the  clerk  and  Kozlovsky  were  sitting  on  the  floor  by  a  tub, 
and  so  handy  to  the  commander-in-chief,  and  finally,  because 
the  Cossacks  holding  the  saddle-horses  were  laughing  so  nois- 
ily in  front  of  the  windows,  —  by  all  of  this.  Prince  Andrei  was 

*  Vashe  vuUokoblagordUie:  high-well-bornf  Uochwohlgeboren, 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  199 

impressed  with  the  idea  that  something  grave  and  disagreeable 
must  have  occurred. 

Prince  Andrei,  with  urgency,  turned  to  Kozlovsky  with 
questions. 

**  In  a  moment,  prince,"  said  Kozlovsky,  "  These  are  the 
dispositions  for  Bagration." 

"  But  the  capitulation  ?  " 

"There's  no  such  thing.  Preparations  are  making  for  a 
battle." 

Prince  Andrei  started  for  the  room  where  he  heard  the 
talking.  But  just  as  he  was  going  to  open  the  door,  the  voices 
in  the  room  became  silent,  the  door  was  flung  open,  and 
Kutuzof,  with  his  eagle  nose  and  puffy  face,  appeared  on  the 
threshold.  Prince  Andrei  stood  directly  in  front  of  him  ;  but 
from  the  expression  of  the  commander-in-chiePs  one  available 
eye  it  could  be  seen  that  he  was  so  absolutely  absorbed  by  his 
work  and  idea  that  he  did  not  see  anything  at  all.  He  looked 
straight  into  his  aide's  face  and  yet  did  not  recognize  him. 

"How  now  !  Finished  ?  "  he  inquired  of  Kozlovsky. 

"  In  one  second,  excellency." 

Bagration,  a  short,  slender  man,  still  in  the  prime  of  life, 
and  with  a  firm  and  impassive  face  of  the  oriental  type,  fol- 
lowed the  commander-in-chief. 

"  I  have  the  honor  of  presenting  myself,"  said  Prince  Andrei, 
in  a  pretty  loud  tone,  and  at  the  same  time  extending  an 
envelope. 

"  Ah  ?  From  Vienna  ?  Good !  Wait  a  little,  wait  a  little  !  " 

Kutuzof  and  Bagration  went  out  on  the  step. 

"Well,  prince,  good-by,"  said  he  to  Bagration!  "Christ  be 
with  you !  I  give  you  my  best  wishes  for  the  great  emprise." 

RutuzoFs  face  unexpectedly  softened,  and  the  tears  came 
into  his  eyes.  With  his  left  hand  he  drew  Bagration  to  him, 
and  with  his  right,  on  which  flashed  a  ring,  he  made  the  sign 
of  the  cross  over  him  in  a  manner  peculiar  to  liinisflf,  and 
offered  himliis  puffy  cheek  to  kiss,  instead  of  which  Bagration 
kissed  him  on  the  neck. 

"Christ  be  with  you,"  repeated  Kutuzof,  and  got  into  the 
calash.    "Come  with  me,"  said  he  to  Bolkonsky. 

"Your  high  excellency,  I  should  like  to  be  employed  in 
this  movement.     Let  me  stay  in  Prince  Bagration's  division." 

"Come  with  me,"  again  said  Kutuzof,  and  noticing  that 
Bolkonsky  hesitated,  he  added  :  "I  myself  need  good  officers, 
1  need  them  myself." 

They  took  their  seats  in  the  calash  and  drove  in  silence  for 
some  minutes. 


200  WAR  AyD  PEACE. 

"  There  is  still  much,  yeiy  much  before  us,"  said  he,  with  an 
old  man's  keenness  of  perception,  as  though  he  clearly  read 
all  that  was  passing  in  Bolkonskj's  mind.  ^'  If  a  tenth  part 
of  his  division  returns  to-morrow,  I  shall  thank  Crod,"  adc)^ 
Kutuzof,  as  though  talking  to  himself. 

Prince  Andrei  looked  at  Kutuzof,  and  his  eyes  were  involun- 
tarily attracted  by  the  deep  scar  on  Kutuzof's  temple,  where 
the  Turkish  bullet  had  crashed  through  his  head  at  Izmailo, 
and  his  extravasated  eye. 

''  Yes,  he  has  a  right  to  speak  thus  calmly  of  the  destruction 
of  these  men/'  thought  Prince  Bolkonksy.  "That  was  tlie 
very  reason  why  I  ask  you  to  let  me  go  with  that  division," 
said  he  aloud. 

Kutuzof  made  no  reply.  It  seemed  as  though  he  had 
alreiidy  forgotten  what  he  had  just  said,  and  he  sat  absorbed 
in  thought.  Five  minutes  later,  Kutuzof  comfortably  rocking 
on  the  easy  springs  of  the  calash,  turned  to  Prince  Andrei. 
His  face  showed  not  a  sign  of  emotion.  With  gentle  irony  he 
began  to  ask  l*rince  Andrei  after  the  details  of  his  interview 
with  the  enij)eror,  the  court  gossip  concerning  the  Kreuis 
engagement,  and  concerning  certain  women  with  whom  both  of 
them  were  acquainted. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

Kutuzof  had  learned  on  the  thirteenth  of  November, 
through  one  of  his  scouts,  that  the  army  under  his  command 
was  in  an  almost  helpless  position.  The  scout  had  brought 
word  that  the  French,  in  overwhelming  numbers,  had  crossed 
the  bridge  at  Vienna  and  were  marching  to  cut  off  the  com- 
munication between  Kutuzof  and  the  reinforcements  coming 
to  him  from  Russia. 

If  Kutuzof  decided  to  remain  at  Krems,  then  Napoleon's 
army  of  one  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  men  would  cut  him 
off  from  all  his  communications,  would  outflank  his  exhausted 
army  of  forty  thousand,  and  then  he  would  be  in  the  same 
position  as  Mack  at  Ulm. 

If  Kutuzof  decided  to  abandon  the  road  leading  to  his  point 
of  communication  with  his  reinforcements,  then  he  would  be 
oblij^ed  to  penetrate  into  the  unknown  and  pathless  region  of 
the  Bohemian  mountains,  defending  his  rear  from  the  constant 
attacks  of  the  enemy  on  his  trail,  and  giving  up  all  hope  of 
effecting  a  junction  with  Buxhovden. 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  201 

If  Kutuzof  determined  to  take  the  highway  from  Krems  to 
Olmutz,  so  as  to  meet  the  reinforcement  from  Kussia,  then  he 
Tan  the  risk  of  being  anticipated  on  this  route  by  the  French, 
who  had  crossed  the  Danube  at  Vienna  and  would  be  likely  to 
force  him  to  light  in  the  middle  of  the  march,  burdened  with 
all  the  luggage  and  heavy  baggage,  and  to  deal  with  an  enemy 
double  his  own  number,  and  surrounding  him  on  every  side. 

Kutuzof  had  decided  on  this  last  alternative. 

The  French,  according  to  the  report  of  the  scout,  had 
crossed  the  bridge  at  Vienna,  and  were  in  full  march  upon 
Znaim  which  lay  in  the  line  of  Kutuzof's  projected  retreat, 
more  than  a  hundred  versts — about  sixty  miles  —  ahead  of  him. 
If  they  could  reach  Znaim  before  the  French,  they  were  in  a 
fair  hope  of  saving  the  army ;  but  if  the  French  were  given  a 
chance  of  getting  to  Znaim  first,  it  meant  the  disgrace  of  a 
surrender,  like  that  at  Ulm,  or  else  the  general  destruction  of 
the  army.  It  was  certainly  impossible  to  anticipate  the  French 
with  all  the  troops.  The  road  which  the  French  would  traverse 
from  Vienna  to  Znaim  was  both  shorter  and  better  than  the 
road  which  the  Riissians  had  from  Krems  to  Znaim. 

On  the  night  after  receiving  this  information,  Kutuzof  sent 
four  thousand  men  of  Bagration's  vanguard  over  the  mountains 
to  occupy  the  road  from  Vienna  to  Znaim.  Bagration  was 
ordered  to  make  this  short  cut  without  pausing  to  rest ;  he 
was  to  face  Vienna  and  turn  his  back  on  Znaim,  and  if  he  suc- 
ceeded in  anticipating  the  French  he  was  to  do  his  best  to  hold 
them  in  check.  Kutuzof  himself,  with  all  the  baggage,  would 
iiasten  on  toward  Znaim. 

Bagration,  crossing  the  mountains  marching  without  a  road, 
forty-five  versts  on  a  stormy  night,  losing  a  third  part  of  his 
forces  in  stragglers,  came  out  with  his  famished,  shoeless  men 
at  HoUabrflnn,  on  the  road  from  Vienna  to  Znaim,  a  few  hours 
hefore  the  French  reached  it  from  Vienna.  It  was  necessary 
for  Kutuzof  to  travel  a  whole  day  and  night  with  his  baggage 
▼agons  before  reaching  Znaim,  and,  therefore,  in  order  to  save 
the  army,  Bagration,  with  only  four  thousand  soldiers,  hungry 
and  tired  out,  was  obliged  to  engage  the  entire  force  of  the 
enemy  during  the  course  of  the  twenty.-four  hours :  this  was 
Dwnifestly  impossible. 

Bat  a  strange  chance  made  the  impossible  possible. 

Having  been  successful  in  the  piece  of  finesse  which  had 
given  the  French  the  bridge  at  Vienna  without  a  blow,  Murat 
thought  that  it  would  be  fine  to  try  a  similar  deception  on 
Kutuzof.    Meeting  Bagration's  feeble  contingent  on  the  road 


202  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

to  Znainiy  he  supposed  that  it  was  Kutuzofs  whole  army.  In 
order  that  there  might  be  no  question  of  his  crushing  this 
army,  he  determined  to  wait  the  arrival  of  all  the  forces  that 
had  started  out  from  Vienna,  and  with  this  end  in  view,  he 
proposed  an  armistice  for  three  days,  with  the  condition  that 
both  armies  should  not  change  their  positions,  or  move  from 
their  places. 

Murat  asserted  that  negotiations  for  peace  were  already  in 
progress,  and  that,  therefore,  in  order  to  avoid  the  useless 
shedding  of  blood,  he  had  proposed  the  armistice.  The  Aus- 
trian general,  Count  Nostitz,  who  was  posted  in  the  van,  cred- 
ited the  words  of  Alurat's  emissaiy,  and  retired,  exposing 
Bagration.  Another  emissary  came  to  the  Russian  line  to 
make  the  same  assurances  about  negotiations  of  peace,  and 
to  propose  three  days'  armistice.  Bagration  answered  that  he 
was  not  authorized  either  to  refuse  or  accept  an  armistice,  and 
he  sent  his  adjutant  back  to  Kutuzof,  to  carry  the  proposition 
that  had  been  made  to  him. 

The  armistice  was,  for  Kutuzof,  the  only  means  of  gaining 
time,  of  giving  Bagration's  toil-worn  division  .a  chance  to  rest, 
and  of  sending  the  baggage  wagons  and  other  things  (the  move- 
ments of  which  were  concealed  from  the  French),  by  a  roundar 
bout  way  to  Znaim.  The  proposal  for  an  armistice  offered 
the  only  possibility,  and  one  most  unexpected,  of  saving  the 
army. 

On  the  receipt  of  this  news,  Kutuzof  promptly  sent  his  adju- 
tant-general, Winzengerode,  who  happened  to  be  present,  over 
to  the  hostile  camp.  Winzengerode  was  not  only  to  accept  the 
armistice,  but  also  even  to  propose  terms  of  capitulation,  while, 
in  the  meantime,  Kutuzof  sent  his  aides  back  to  expedite  the 
movements  of  the  baggage  train  of  the  whole  army  along  the 
road  from  Krems  to  Znaim.  The  weary,  famished  contingent 
under  Bagration  was  to  cover  this  operation  of  the  baggage 
train  and  of  the  whole  army,  and  to  maintain  a  firm  front 
against  an  enemy  eight  times  as  strong. 

Kutuzof  saw  that  by  discussing  terms  of  capitulation,  which 
did  not  bind  him  to  anything,  time  would  be  gained  for  sending 
around  at  least  a  portion  of  the  heavy  baggage,  but  he  also  saw 
t!iat  Murat's  blunder  would  be  quickly  detected.  Both  of  these 
anticipations  were  realized. 

As  soon  as  Bonaparte,  who  was  at  Schonbriinn,  twenty-five 
versts  from  Hollabriinn,  read  M urates  report  and  his  scheme  for 
an  armistice  and  capitulation,  he  saw  through  the  hoax,  and 
wrote  the  following  letter  to  him,  — 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  203 

ScHOENBRUNX,  NoT.  16, 1806,  8  o'clock,  A.  M. 

To  Prihcb  Murat:  I  cannot  find  words  to  express  my  displeasure. 
YoQ  merely  command  my  van,  and  have  no  right  to  conclude  an  armistice 
without  orders  from  me.  You  are  making  me  lose  the  advantage  of  a 
campaign.  End  the  armistice  Instantly,  and  march  on  the  enemy.  Ex- 
plain to  him  that  the  general  who  signed  this  capitulation,  had  no  right 
to  do  so,  —  that  only  the  Emperor  of  Russia  has  this  right. 

However,  if  the  Russian  emperor  should  ratify  the  proposed  agreement, 
1  also  would  ratify  iu  But  it  is  only  a  trick.  March !  Destroy  the  Rus- 
^i.ln  army!    You  are  in  a  position  to  capture  their  haggage  and  artillery. 

The  Russian  emperor's  adjutant-general  is  a  — .  Officers  are  of  no  ac- 
count when  they  «ire  not  endowed  with  any  powers:  tliis  one  had  none. 
'i1ie  Austrians  let  themselves  he  duped  ahout  the  crossing  of  the  Vienna 
bridge;  you  have  allowed  yourself  to  be  duped  by  the  Russians. 

•^  Napoleon.* 

Bonaparte's  aid  galloped  off  at  headlong  speed,  to  carry  this 
angry  letter  to  Murat.  Bonaparte  himself,  not  feeling  confi- 
dence in  his  generals,  moved  toward  the  field  of  battle  with  all 
his  guards,  fearing  lest  he  should  be  cheated  of  his  prey,  and 
the  four  thousand  men  under  Bagration,  gayly  building  bivouac 
tires,  dried  and  warmed  themselves,  and  for  the  first  time  in 
three  days  cooked  their  kasha-gruel,  and  not  one  of  the  detach- 
ment knew  or  dreamed  of  what  was  threatening  them. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

It  was  four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  when  Prince  Andrei, 
having  through  his  urgency  been  granted  his  request  by  Ku- 
tuzof,  reached  Griind,  and  reported  to  Bagration.  Bonaparte's 
aide  had  not  yet  reached  Murat's  division,  and  the  battle  had 
not  begun.  Nothing  was  known  in  Bagrat ion's  detachment 
about  the  general  course  of  events :  they  talked  about  a  peace, 
but  did  not  believe  in  its  possibility.    -They  talked  also  about 

•  ScHOKyBRUNN,  25  Bnmiairej  en  1805,  a  ?iuit  heure  (fit  matin. 

Au  PantCE  Murat :  — //  m'est  impofsible  de  trovver  des  termes  pour  vous  er- 
pnmermonmecontentement.  Voub ne commandez que mon avant-ffarde , et rovs 
u'artz  pas  le  droit  de/aire  d^armistice  sans  mon  ordre.  Vous  me  faites  perdre 
if/mitd^une  campaffne.  Rompez  V armistice  svr  le  champ,  et  marchcz  sur 
fmumi.  Vous  Iviferez  declarer  que  le  gdn^ral  qui  a  siijn^  cvtte  capitulation, 
n^araitpas  le  droit'de  lefaire,  qv'il  n'y  a  que  I'empereur  de  Russie  qui  ait  ce 
droit. 

Toutet  leifois  cependent  que  VEmpcreur  de  Russie  ratcfierait  la  dite  cnnveu- 
^^jelaratefierai:  mats  ce  n*est  qu^une  ruse,  Marchcz,  de'truiscz  Varmve 
n/«e.    Vous  ites  un  position  de  prendre  son  hagage  et  son  artillerit'. 

L*atde  de  campe  de  VEmpereurde  Russie  est  un —  .*  les  ojfficdrs  nc  sont  rim 
<tvand  ilsn*ontpas  depouvoirs :  celui-ci  n'en  avail  point,  I^es  Autrichiens  se 
»7U  laissiiouer  pour  le  passage  du  pont  de  Vienne,  vous^ous  laissez  jouer 
par  tin  aicle-de-camp  de  Vempereur, 

Kafolbon. 


204  ^VAR  AND  PEACE. 

an  engagement,  but  neither  did  they  believe  in  the  imminence 
of  any  engagement.  Bagration,  knowing  that  Bolkonsky  was 
the  commander-in-chief's  favorite  and  trusted  adjutant,  re- 
ceived him  with  all  the  marks  of  respect  and  condescension 
possible  to  a  commander,  assured  him  that  either  that  day  or 
the  next  an  engagement  would  probably  take  place,  and  granted 
him  free  choice  to  be  present  with  him  during  the  battle,  ot  to 
remain  in  the  rear  and  superintend  the  retreat,  "  which,"  he 
said,  "  would  be  a  very  important  position." 

"  However,  it  is  most  likely  that  nothing  will  be  done  to- 
day," said  Prince  Bagration,  as  if  to  relieve  Prince  Andrei's 
anxieties. 

At  the  same  time,  he  thought :  "  If  this  is  only  one  of  the 
ordinary  jack-Ordandies  of  the  staff,  sent  out  to  win  a  cross,  he 
will  get  it  just  as  well  by  staying  in  the  rear,  but  if  he  de- 
sires to  be  with  me,  let  him ;  he  will  be  useful  if  he  is  a  brave 
officer." 

Prince  Andrei  gave  no  decided  answer,  but  asked  the  prince's 
permission  to  reconnoitre  the  position  and  learn  the  disposi- 
tion of  the  forces,  so  that  in  case  of  necessity  he  might  know 
where  he  was.  An  officer  on  duty,  a  handsome  man,  fault- 
lessly attired  and  with  a  diamond  ring  on  his  index  finger, 
who  spoke  French  badly  but  fluently,  offered  to  be  Prince 
Andrei's  guide. 

On  all  sides  were  to  be  seen  wet  and  melancholy-looking 
officers,  apparently  searching  for  something,  and  soldiers  lug- 
ging from  the  village  doors,  benches  and  fences. 

"  Here,  prince,  we  cannot  get  rid  of  such  men  as  these,"  said 
the  staff  officer,  pointing  to  the  soldiers.  "The  officers  let 
them  leave  their  places.  And  here  again ! "  the  officer, 
pointed  to  a  sutler's  tent  pitched  near  them,  '*  they  gather 
around  and  loaf  and  loaf.  This  morning  I  drove  them  all 
out,  and  look  !  it's  all  full  again.  I  must  go  and  disperse  them. 
One  minute ! " 

"  Let  us  go  and  I  will  get  some  cheese  and  a  loaf  of  bread  of 
him,"  said  Prince  Andrei,  who  had  not  yet  had  anything  to 
eat. 

"  Why  didn't  you  tell  me,  prince  ?  I  should  have  been 
delighted  to  have  shared  my  bread  and  salt  with  you." 

They  dismounted  and  went  into  the  sutler's  tent,  where  a 
few  men  and  a  number  of  officers  with  flushed  and  weary 
faces  were  sitting  around  a  table,  eating  and  drinking. 

"  Now  what  does  this  mean,  gentlemen,"  said  the  staff  officer 
in  a  tone  of  vexation^  like  a  man  who  has  been  iterating  the 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  205 

same  thing  again  and  again,  "  You  know  it  is  forbidden  to 
absent  yourselves  from  your  posts  in  this  way.  The  prince 
has  forbidden  any  such  thing.  —  And  here  you  are,  Mr. 
Captain!"  said  he  turning  to  a  little  lean,  dirty  artillery 
officer,  who  without  boots  (he  had  given  them  to  the  sutler  to 
dry)  in  his  stocking  feet,  stood  up  as  the  others  entered,  and 
greeted  them  with  a  not  altogether  natural  smile.  "Well, 
aren't  you  ashamed  of  yourself,  Captain  Tushin,"  continued 
the  staff  officer,  "  one  would  think  that  as  an  officer  you  would 
set  a  good  example,  and  here  you  are  with  your  boots  off !  If 
an  alarm  were  sounded  you  would  make  a  fine  show  without 
boots!"  The  staff  officer  smiled  satirically.  "Please  go  to 
your  places,  gentlemen,  all,  all  of  you,"  he  added,  in  a  tone  of 
command. 

Prince  Andrei  could  not  help  smiling,  as  he  looked  at  Cap- 
tain Tushin  who,  silent  and  smiling,  stood  first  on  one  bare 
foot  and  then  on  the  other,  and  looked  inquiringly  with  his 
large,  intelligent,  and  good-natured  eyes,  from  Prince  Andrei  to 
the  officer  of  the  day. 

"The  soldiers  say :  '  it's  easier  to  go  barefooted,' "  said  Cap- 
tain Tushin,  timid  and  still  smiling,  evidently  anxious  to  escape 
from  his  awkward  predicament  by  assuming  a  jesting  tone : 
but  he  did  not  say  anything  further,  as  though  he  felt  that  his 
joke  was  not  appreciated  and  was  not  a  success.  He  grew 
confused. 

"Please  go  to  your  places,"  repeated  the  staff  officer,  trying 
to  preserve  his  gi'avity. 

Prince  Andrei  once  more  glanced  at  the  diminutive  form  of 
the  artillery  officer.  There  was  something  about  it  peculiar, 
utterly  unmilitary  and  rather  comical,  but  still  extraordinarily 
attractive. 

The  officer  of  the  day  and  Prince  Andrei  remounted  their 
horses  and  rode  on. 

Having  passed  beyond  the  village,  constantly  overtaking  or 
meeting  soldiers  and  officers  of  different  divisions,  they  came 
in  sight  of  the  new  entrenchments  at  their  left,  made  of  red- 
dish clay  freshly  dug  up.  Several  battalions  of  soldiers  in 
their  shirt  sleeves,  in  spite  of  the  cold  wind,  and  looking  like 
white  ants,  were  busy  digging  at  these  fortifications.  Behind 
the  breastworks,  shovelfuls  of  red  clay  were  constantly  tossed 
^p  by  men  hidden  from  sight.  They^^  rode  up  to  the  earth- 
works, examined  them,  and  riding  ^..i,  niotmted  the  opj)osite 
slope.  From  the  top  of  it,  they  could  see  the  French.  Prince 
Andrei  reined  in  his  horse  and  began  to  look  around. 


206  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

"There's  where  our  battery  is  stationed,"  said  the  staff 
officer,  indicating  the  highest  point,  —  "under  command  of 
that  droll  fellow  whom  we  saw  without  his  boots.  From  the 
top  there,  you  can  get  a  bird's-eye  view  of  everything :  let  us 
go  to  it,  prince." 

"  I  thank  you  cordially,  but  now  I  can  make  my  way  alone," 
said  Prince  Andrei,  wishing  to  get  rid  of  the  staff  officer.  "  Do 
not  trouble  yourself,  I  beg  of  you." 

The  staff  officer  turned  back,  and  Prince  Andrei  rode  on  alone. 

Tlie  farther  toward  the  front  he  rode,  and  the  nearer  to  the 
enemy  he  came,  the  more  orderly  and  admirably  disposo<i 
seemed  to  be  the  army.  The  greatest  disorder  and  dosinni- 
dency  were  in  that  division  of  the  baggage  train  before  Znaim 
which  Prince  Andrei  had  overtaken  that  morning  and  which 
was  at  least  ten  versts  from  the  French.  In  Grund  also  there 
wiis  a  certain  atmosphere  of  apprehension  and  fear  of  some- 
thing. 

But  the  nearer  Prince  Andrei  came  to  the  French  outposts, 
the  more  satisfactory  seemed  to  be  the  condition  of  the  Russian 
forces.  The  soldiers  in  their  capotes  stood  drawn  up  in  line 
and  a  sergeant  and  a  captain  were  counting  the  men,  laying  a 
linger  on  the  breast  of  the  last  soldier  of  each  division  and 
directing  him  to  lift  his  hand.  Others,  scattered  over  tlie 
whole  space,  were  dragging  sticks  and  brushwood  and  con- 
stnicting  rude  huts,  while  they  gayly  laughed  and  chatted ; 
around  the  bivouac  fires  some  dressed  and  othere  stripped, 
were  drying  their  shirts  and  leg-wrappers,  mending  their  boots 
and  capotes,  crowding  around  the  kettles  and  kasha  boilers. 
In  one  company,  dinner  was  ready  and  the  soldiers  with  eager 
faces  gazed  at  the  steaming  kettle  and  waited  while  the 
Kapfenarmus  or  sergeant  carried  a  wooden  cupful  to  bo  tasted 
by  the  officer  who  was  sitting  on  a  log  in  front  of  his  hut. 

In  another  company,  more  fortunate,  since  not  all  were  pro- 
vided with  vodka,  the  soldiers  stood  in  a  throng  around  a  i)ock- 
marked  broad-shouldered  sergeant,  who,  tilting  the  keg,  filled 
in  turn  the  covers  of  the  cans  which  eager  hands  extended 
toward  him.  The  soldiers  with  reverent  faces,  lifted  the  can- 
covers  to  their  lips,  drained  them  and  rinsing  the  vodka  in 
their  mouths  and  wiping  them  on  their  coat  sleeves,  went  off 
with  contented  faces.  All  the  faces  were  as  free  from  care  as 
though  the  enemy  were  miles  away,  and  there  were  no  proba- 
bility of  a  battle  in  a\\  o'lh  at  least  half  their  division  might 
be  left  on  tlie  field, — as  though  indeed  they  were  somewhere 
in  their  native  land  anticipating  undisturbed  repose. 


WAR  AND  PEACE,  207 

Having  ridden  past  the  regiment  of  j&gers,  Prince  Andrei 
reached  the  Kief  grenadiers,  gallant  young  fellows,  occupied 
all  with  the  same  peaceful  pursuits ;  but  not  far  from  the  regi- 
mental commander's  hut,  distinguished  only  by  its  height  from 
the  others,  he  saw  a  platoon  of  the  grenadiers,  in  front  of  whom 
lay  a  man,  stripped.  Two  soldiers  held  him  down,  and  two, 
flourishing  supi)le  rods,  were  giving  him  measured  strokes  on 
his  naked  back. 

The  man  who  was  undergoing  the  punishment  screamed  un- 
naturally. A  stout  major  walked  up  and  down  in  front  of  the 
line,  and  without  heeding  the  man's  shrieks,  kept  saying, — 

"  It's  scandalous  for  a  soldier  to  steal ;  a  soldier  ought  to  be 
honest,  noble,  and  brave,  and  if  he  steals  from  his  comrade,  he 
has  no  honor  in  him  ;  he's  a  mean  fellow.     More  I  more  ! " 

And  still  resounded  the  swishing  of  the  rods  and  the  despair- 
ing but  pretendedly  piteous  cries.  "  More !  more  !  "  repeated 
the  major.  A  young  officer,  who  was  just  turning  away  from 
the  scene  of  the  punishment  with  a  mixed  expression  of  in- 
credulity and  compassion,  looked  up  questioningly  at  the  ad- 
jutant, as  he  rode  by. 

Prince  Andrei,  penetrating  to  the  extreme  front,  rode  along 
by  the  outposts.  The  Russian  pickets  and  those  of  the  French 
were  separated  by  a  considerable  distance  at  each  flank,  but  at 
the  centre,  on  that  space  where  the  emissaries  had  crossed  in 
the  morning,  the  lines  were  so  close  that  they  could  see  each 
other's  faces,  and  exchange  remarks.  Besides  the  soldiers, 
who  were  stationed  as  pickets  in  this  place,  there  stood  on  both 
sides  many  sightseers,  who,  laughing  and  jesting,  stared  at  the 
hostile  troops  as  though  they  were  strange  and  foreign  curios- 
ities. 

Ever  since  early  morning,  notwithstanding  the  orders  to  stay 
away,  the  officers  had  been  unable  to  rid  themselves  of  these 
inquisitive  individuals.  The  soldiers,  standing  in  the  lines, 
like  men  who  had  come  out  to  see  something  rare,  no  longer 
paid  any  attention  to  the  French,  but  made  observations  on  the 
new-comers,  or,  bored  to  death,  waited  to  be  relieved.  Prince 
Andrei  reined  in  his  horse  to  reconnoitre  the  French. 

"  Look  yon,  look  ! "  said  one  soldier  to  his  comrade,  pointing 
to  a  musketeer,  who,  in  company  with  an  officer,  had  gone  up 
to  the  line  of  sentries,  and  was  talking  earnestly  and  hotly  with 
a  French  grenadier.  "  See,  how  glib  he  jabbers !  The  French- 
man *  can't  begin  to  keep  up  with  him.  That  beats  you,  Sid- 
orof  I " 

^  KhranUus  instead  of  Frantsus,  a  Frenchman, 


208  ^^/^  ^NI>  PEACE. 

"Wait !  listen.  He's  clever !  "  replied  Sidorof,  who  consid- 
ered himself  a  master  in  the  art  of  speaking  French. 

The  soldier  whom  the  jesters  were  remarking  was  Dolo- 
khof.  Prince  Andrei  recognized  him,  and  listened  to  what 
he  was  saying.  Dolokhof,  with  his  captain,  had  gone  op  to 
the  sentry  on  the  left  flank,  where  their  regiment  was  star 
tioned. 

"  There,  once  more,  once  more,"  urged  the  captain,  leaning 
forward  and  trying  not  to  miss  a  word,  albeit  it  was  perfectly 
unintelligible  to  him  !  "  Please  make  haste !  What  does  he 
say  ?  " 

Dolokhof  did  not  answer  his  captain  ;  he  had  got  drawn  in- 
to a  heated  discussion  with  the  French  grenadier.  Naturally, 
they  were  talking  about  the  campaign.  The  Frenchman,  con- 
fusing the  Austrians  with  the  Russians,  contended  that  it  was 
the  Russians  who  had  surrendered  and  run  away  from  Ulm. 
Dolokhof  contended  that  the  Russians  had  not  surrendered  hut 
had  beaten  the  French.  "  And  here,  if  they  tell  us  to  clear 
you  out,  we  will  do  it,"  said  Dolokhof. 

"  You  look  out  that  we  don't  take  you  and  all  your  Cossacks 
with  us,"  retorted  the  Frenchman. 

The  spectators  and  the  Frenchmen,  who  were  listening, 
laughed. 

"  We'll  teach  vou  to  dance  Russian  fashion,  as  we  did  in  the 
time  of  Suvarof,"  said  Dolokhof. 

"  What's  that  tune  he's  giving  us  ?  "  asked  another  French- 
man. 

"  Ancient  history,"  said  another,  perceiving  that  the  refer- 
ence was  to  some  past  war.  "  The  emperor  will  teach  your 
Sou  vara,  the  same  as  he  has  taught  others."  * 

"Bonaparte,"  began  Dolokhof,  but  the  Frenchman  inter- 
rupted him, — 

"We  have  no  Bonaparte.  We  have  the  emperor!  Sarre 
nom  /  "  cried  the  other  excitedly. 

"  The  devil  skin  your  emperor  !  " 

And  Dolokhof  began  to  pour  out  a  string  of  oaths,  in  Rus- 
sian, soldier  fashion,  and  shouldering  his  musket,  walked  off. 
"  Let  us  be  going,  Ivan  Lukitch,"  said  he  to  his  captain. 

"  He's  stopped  talking  French,"  cried  the  soldiers  in  the  line, 
"  Now  it's  your  turn,  Sidorof ! " 

Sidorof  winked,  and  addressing  the  Frenchmen,  began  to 
jabber  a  p(M'fect  stream  of  meaningless  words  :  —  "  Kari^  mala, 

•"Qu'est-ce  qu'il  chanie?*'    "  Be  Vhistoire  ancierme.    I/cmpertur  va  lui 
/aire  voir  a  voire  Hottvara,  comme  aux  avtre$," 


J 


WAH  AND  PEACE.  209 

tafa,  sajiy  muter^  kasha"  he  jabbered,  trying* to  giye  great  ex- 
pression to  the  inflexions  of  his  voice. 

''  Ho !  ho !  ho  !  ha !  ha !  ha !  ukh  !  ukh  ! "  rang  among  the 
soldiers  with  such  a  hearty  and  jovial  laughter,  that  the  French- 
men across  the  line  were  irresistibly  infected,  and  one  would 
have  thought,  after  this,  that  all  that  was  necessary  was  for 
tbem  all  to  Are  off  their  muskets,  explode  their  cartridges,  and 
scatter  to  their  homes  as  soon  as  possible ;  but  the  guns  re- 
mained loaded,  the  barbicans  in  the  huts  and  earthworks  looked 
out  just  as  threateningly  as  ever,  and  the  unlimbered  cannon 
remained  as  before,  pointing  at  each  other. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

Apteb  riding  along  the  entire  line,  from  the  right  flank  to 
the  left.  Prince  Andrei  made  his  way  to  the  battery,  from 
which,  according  to  the  staff  officer,  the  whole  field  was  visi- 
ble. Here  he  dismounted  and  leaned  against  the  last  one  of 
four  unlimbered  field-pieces. 

A  sentry,  who  was  pacing  up  and  down  in  front  of  the  guns, 
started  to  give  Prince  Andrei  the  military  salute,  but  at  a  sign 
from  the  officer,  desisted,  and  once  more  began  his  monoto- 
nous, tedious  march. 

Behind  the  guns  were  the  gun  carriages ;  still  farther  back, 
the  horses  were  picketed,  and  the  bivouac  fires  of  the  gunnei-s 
were  burning.  At  the  left,  at  a  little  distance  from  the  outer- 
most gun,  was  a  new,  wattled  hut,  in  which  could  be  heard  the 
lively  voices  of  officers,  talking  together. 

It  was  true :  from  the  battery  a  view  was  disclosed  of  almost 
all  the  disposition  of  the  Russian  forces,  and  of  a  large  part  of 
the  enemy's.  Directly  in  front  of  the  battery,  on  the  slope  of 
another  hill,  lay  the  village  of  Schongraben.  Farther,  both  to 
the  left  and  to  the  right,  could  be  distinguished  in  three  places, 
through  the  smoke  of  their  bivouac  fires,  the  ma.sses  of  the 
French  troops,  Jthe  greater  [)art  of  which  were  evidently  sta- 
tioned in  the  village  itself,  and  behind  the  hill. 

At  the  left  of  the  village,  in  the  smoke,  something  that  re- 
sembled a  battery  could  be  made  out,  but  by  the  naked  eye,  it 
was  impossible  to  distinguish  it  clearly.  The  Russian  right 
flank  was  distributed  along  a  rather  steep  elevation,  which 
commanded  the  position  of  the  French.  Here  were  stationed 
the  Russian  infantry,  and  at  the  very  end  could  be  seen  the 
<iragoons. 

VOL.  1.— 14. 


210  WAk  AND  PEACE. 

In  the  centre,  where  Tushin's  battery  was  posted,  and  where 
Prince  Andrei  was  studying  the  lay  of  the  land,  there  was  a 
very  steep  and  direct  descent  and  approach  to  a  brook  separat- 
ing the  Russians  from  Schongraben. 

At  the  left  of  the  llussian  position,  the  infantry  were  en- 
gaged in  cutting  wood  in  the  forest,  and  there  also  arose  the 
smoke  of  their  bivouac  fires. 

The  French  lines  were  much  more  extended  than  ours,  and 
it  was  plain  tliat  the  French  could  outflank  us  easily,  on  both 
sides.  Back  of  our  position  was  a  steep  and  deep  ravine,  along 
which  it  would  be  difficult  for  artillery  or  cavalry  to  retreat. 

Prince  Andrei,  leaning  on  the  cannon,  took  out  a  notebook 
and  drew  a  plan  of  the  disposition  of  the  armies.  At  two 
places  he  indicated  with  a  pencil  certain  observations  to  which 
he  should  draw  Bagration's  attention.  In  the  first  place,  it  was 
his  idea  that  the  artillery  should  be  concentrated  in  the  centre, 
and  in  the  second  place,  to  transfer  all  the  cavalry  to  the  other 
side  of  the  ravine. 

Prince  Andrei,  having  been  constantly  thrown  with  the  com- 
mander-in-chief, and  occupied  with  the  movements  of  masses 
and  general  arrangements,  and  having  diligently  studied  de- 
scriptions of 'historical  engagements,  found  himself  involun- 
tarily trying  to  forecast  the  course  of  the  action,  but  only  in 
its  general  features.  He  imagined  that  the  engagement  would 
probably  occur  somewhat  as  follows :  — 

"  If  the  enemy  attack  the  right  flank,"  said  he  to  himself, 
"  The  Kief  grenadiers  and  the  Podolian  jagers  will  be  obliged 
to  hold  their  position  until  the  reserves  from  the  centre  are 
sent  to  their  aid.  In  this  case,  the  dragoons  may  attack  the 
flank  and  cut  them  to  pieces.  In  case  the  attack  is  made  on 
the .  centre,  we  must  place  on  this  elevation  our  central  bat- 
tery, and  under  its  protection  we  can  draw  back  the  left  flank, 
and  let  them  retreat  down  the  ravine  en  echelon^ 

Thus  he  reflected. 

All  the  time  that  he  was  in  the  battery  by  the  cannon,  he  had 
constantly  heard  the  voices  of  the  officers,  talking  in  the  hut, 
but,  as  often  happens,  he  had  not  noticed  a  single  word  that 
they  said.  Suddenly  he  was  so  struck  by  the  tona  of  sincerity 
iu  the  tone  of  their  voices,  that  he  involuntarily  began  to  listen. 

"  No,  my  dear,"  ♦  said  a  pleasant  voice,  that  somehow  seemed 
very  familiar  to  Prince  Andrei.  "  I  say  that  if  it  were  possi- 
ble to  know  what  was  to  be  after  death,  then  none  of  us  would 
have  any  fear  of  death.    That's  so,  my  dear." 

•  Qolvbchik, 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  211 

Another  Toice,  evidently  that  of  a  younger  man,  intemipted 
him, — 

"  Well,  whether  we're  afraid  of  it  or  not,  it's  all  the  same, 
there's  no  escaping  it." 

'^  But  all  men  are  afraid  of  it." 

"  Yes,  you  know  so  much,"  said  a  third  lusty  voice,  break- 
ing in  upon  the  others.  "  You  artillery  men  know  so  much  be- 
cause you  can  take  with  you,  everywhere  you  go,  your  tipples 
of  vocUca  and  your  rations."  And  the  possessor  of  the  lusty 
voice,  evidently  an  infantry  officer,  laughed. 

"  Y'es,  all  men  are  afraid  of  it,"  continued  the  first  familiar 
voice.  "  We  are  afraid  of  the  unknown ;  that's  it.  It's  no  use 
saying  the  soul  goes  up  to  heaven ;  why,  we  know  very  well 
that  up  yonder  there's  no  heaven,  but  only  the  atmosphere." 

Again,  the  lusty  voice  inteiTupted  the  artilleryman, — 

"  Come,  now,  Tushin,  let  us  have  some  of  your  travnik."  ♦ 

"  So  that  is  the  very  same  captain  who  was  at  the  sutler's 
tent,  in  his  stocking  feet,"  said  Prince  Andrei  to  himself,  glad 
to  recognize  the  pleasant  voice  of  the  philosopher. 

"  The  travnik  you  can  have,"  said  Tushin,  "  but  still,  as  to 
comprehending  the  life  to  come  "  — 

He  did  not  finish  his  sentence. 

At  that  instant  a  whiz  was  heard  in  the  air ;  nearer  and 
nearer ;  swifter  and  louder,  swifter  and  louder,  and  a  cannon- 
ball,  as  though  unable  to  say  all  that  it  wanted  to  say,  plunged 
into  the  earth  not  far  from  the  hut,  tearing  up  the  ground  with 
superhuman  violence. 

The  ground  seemed  to  groan  with  the  terrible  shock. 

In  a  moment  the  little  Tushin  came  running  out  of  the  hut 
ahead  of  the  others,  with  his  after-dinner  pipe  at  the  side  of 
his  mouth ;  his  kind,  intelligent  face  was  rather  pale.  He  wius 
followed  by  the  possessor  of  the  lusty  voice,  a  young  infan- 
try officer,  who  hurried  off  to  his  company,  buttoning  his  coat 
as  he  ran. 

CHAPTER  XVII. 

Prikcb  Andbei  mounted  his  horse,  but  remained  in  the 
battery,  trying  to  distinguish  by  the  smoke,  the  cannon  that 
had  sent  the  projectile.  His  eyes  wandered  over  the  whole 
landscape.  All  that  he  could  make  out  was,  that  the  till  now 
motionless  masses  of  the  French  were  l)eginning  to  stir,  and 
that  ther6  really  was  a  battery  at  the  left.     The  smoke  above 

*  A  strong  beer  made  of  herbs  {iravut)» 


212  WAR  ASD  PEACE. 

it  had  not  yet  dispersed.  Two  French  riders,  apparently  aides, 
were  spurring  down  the  hilL  At  the  foot  of  the  hill,  a  small, 
hut  clearly  distinguishable  column  of  the  enemy  were  moving, 
evidently  for  the  purpose  of  strengthening  the  lines.  The  smoke 
of  the  first  gun  had  not  blown  away  when  another  puff  arose, 
followed  by  the  report 

The  action  had  begun. 

Prince  Andrei  turned  his  horse  and  galloped  back  to  Grand, 
to  find  Prince  Bagration.     l^hind  him  he  heard  the  cannonade, 
growing  more  f n;quent  and  louder.     It  was  plain  that  our  side 
had  l)egun  to  reply.     Below,  in  the  space  where  the  envoys   . 
had  met,  musket  shots  were  heard. 

Lemarrois,  with  Bonai)arte's  angry  letter,  had  just  dashed 
up  to  Murat,  and  ^furat,  ashamed  of*  himself,  and  anxious  to 
retrieve  his  blunder,  had  immediately  begun  to  move  his  army 
against  the  centre,  and  at  the  same  time  around  both  flanks, 
hoping  before  night,  and  the  arrival  of  the  emperor,  to  demolish 
the  insignificant  division  that  opjiosed  him. 

"  It  has  begun !  Here  it  is !  "  said  Prince  Andrei  to  himself, 
feeling  his  heart  beat  more  violently.  "But  where — how 
shall  I  find  my  Toulon  ?  " 

Kiding  among  the  companies  which  had  been  eating  their 
kasha  gniel  and  drinking  vodka  only  a  quarter  of  an  hour 
before,  he  eveiy  where  found  the  soldiers  hastily  moving  about, 
getting  into  line,  and  examining  their  guns  ;  on  all  faces  there 
was  the  same  feeling  of  expectancy  which  he  had  in  his  heart. 

The  face  of  every  soldier  seemed  to  say,  It  has  begun  I  Hert 
it  is!     How  terrible  \     How  glorious  I 

Before  he  reached  the  unfinished  earthworks,  he  saw  in  the 
twilight  of  the  gloomy  autumn  day,  some  horsemen  riding 
toward  him.  The  foremost,  in  a  felt  burka  and  a  lamb's-wool 
cap,  rode  a  white  horse.  This  was  Prince  Bagration.  Prince 
Andrei  stopped  and  waited  for  them.  Prince  Bagration  reined 
in  his  horse  and,  recognizing  Prince  Andrei,  nodded  to  him. 
He  kept  his  eyes  straight  ahead  all  the  time,  while  Prince 
Andrei  was  reporting  to  him  what  he  had  seen.  The  thought, 
if  has  begun;  here  if  is  /  could  also  be  read  on  Bagration's  strong, 
brown  face  with  the  half-closed,  dull  eyes,  that  seemed  to  show 
the  lack  of  sleep.  Prince  Andrei,  with  uneasy  curiosity  looked 
into  his  impassive  face,  and  tried  to  read  whether  he  had  any 
thoughts  or  feelings,  and  if  so,  what  the  thoughts  and  feelings 
of  this  man  were  at  this  moment.  "  Is  there  anything  remark- 
able behind  that  impassive  face  ?  " 

Prince  Bagration  nodded  his  head  in  approval  of  what 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  213 

Prince  Andrei  reported,  and  said,  "Good!"  as  though  all 
that  had  taken  place  and  all  that  he  heard  was  exactly  what 
he  had  already  anticipated.  Prince  Andrei,  all  out  of  breath 
from  his  swift  gallop,  spoke  hurriedly.  Prince  Bagration  pro- 
nounced his  words  with  his  eastern  accent,  and  with  especial 
deUberation,  as  though  to  give  the  impression  that  there  was 
no  haste.  However  he  put  his  horse  to  the  trot  in  the  direction 
of  Tnshin's  battery.- 

Prince  Andrei  and  his  suite  followed  him.  His  suit^e  con- 
sisted of  an  attache,  of  Zherkof ,  the  prince's  personal  adjutant, 
an  orderly,  the  staff  officer  of  the  da^  on  a  handsome  English 
cob^  and  a  civil  chinovnik  serving  as  auditor,  who,  out  of  curi- 
osity, had  asked  permission  to  come  out  to  the  battle.  The 
auditor,  a  fat  man  with  a  fat  face,  with  a  naive  smile  of  delight, 
glanced  around,  as  he  jolted  on  his  horse,  presenting  a  strange 
figure,  in  his  camelot  cloak  on  a  pack  saddle,  among  the  hussars. 
Cossacks,  and  adjutants. 

"This  man  here  wanted  to  see  a  battle,"  said  Zherkof  to 
Bolkonsky,  pointing  to  the  auditor.  "  Why,  he's  got  a  pain  in 
the  pit  of  his  stomach  already  ! " 

"Come  now,  that'll  do,"  exclaimed  the  auditor  with  a 
radiant,  naive  and  at  the  same  time  shrewd  smile,  as  though 
he  enjoyed  being  made  the  butt  of  Zherkof's  jokes,  and  as 
though  he  purposely  made  himself  out  to  be  duller  than  he 
really  was. 

"TrM  drole,  mon  monsieur princey^  said  the  staff  officer  of  the 
day.  He  remembered  that  in  French  there  was  some  peculiar 
way  of  speaking  the  title  of  prince,  but  he  could  not  get  it 
quite  right. 

By  this  time  they  had  all  reached  Tushin's  battery ;  a  cannon 
ball  feU  a  short  distance  in  front  of  them. 

'^  What  was  that  fell  ?  "  asked  the  auditor,  with  his  naive 
smile. 

"French  pancakes,"  replied  Zherkof. 

"Such  things  kill  I  suppose?"  mused  the  auditor,  "How 
shocking!"  And  it  was  evident  that  he  took  great  delight 
in  witnessing  the  whole  scene. 

The  words  were  hardly  out  of  his  mouth,  when  again 
^expectedly  came  the  same  terrible  whistle,  interrupted  sud- 
denly by  striking  into  something  alive,  and  swish-sh-sh-sh  a 
Cossack,  riding  only  a  few  steps  behind,  and  at  the  right, 
plunged  off  his  horse  to  the  ground.  Zherkof  and  the  staff 
ofiScer  of  the  day  crouched  down  in  their  saddles,  and  drew 
tbeir  horses  to  one  side.    The  auditor  reined  uj)  near  the  Cos- 


214  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

sack,  and  looked  at  him  with  eager  curiosity.     The  Cossack 
was  dead,  the  horse  was  still  struggling. 

Prince  Bagration,  blinking  his  eyes,  glanced  around  and  see- 
ing the  cause  of  the  confusion  turned  his  head  again  indiffer- 
ently, as  much  as  to  say  :  "  It  isn't  worth  while  to  bother  with 
trifles."  He  reined  in  his  horse  with  the  skill  of  a  good  rider, 
bent  over  a  trifle,  and  adjusted  his  sword,  which  had  got 
entangled  in  his  burka.  The  sword  was 'an  old  one,  unlike 
those  worn  at  the  present  time.  Prince  Andrei  remembered 
having  heard  it  said,  that  Suvarof  had  given  his  sword  to 
Bagration  in  Italy,  and  this  recollection  was  peculiarly  s^ree- 
able  to  him  at  this  time. 

They  reached  the  very  same  battery  where  Bolkonsky  had 
been  when  he  made  his  reconnoissance  of  the  battle-field. 

"  Whose  company  ?  "  asked  Prince  Bagration  of  the  gunner 
who  was  standing  by  the  caissons. 

He  asked  "  Whose  company,"  but  his  question  seemed  really 
to  imply :  "  Aren't  you  all  frightened,  you  men  here  ?"  And 
the  gunner  understood  it  so. 

"Captain  Tushin's,  your  excellency,"  cried  the  freckled, 
red-headed  gunner,  in  a  jocund  voice  and  saluting. 

"So,  so,"  exclaimed  Bagration  absent-mindedly,  and  he 
passed  by  the  limbers  toward  the  last  gun.  Just  as  he  reached 
it,  this  cannon  rang  out,  with  a  report  that  deafened  Bagration 
and  his  suite,  and  in  the  smoke  that  spread  round  could  be 
seen  the  gunners,  seizing  the  cannon  and  slowly  bringing  it  back 
to  its  first  place.  Gunner  number  one,  a  huge  soldier  with  broad 
shoulders,  holding  the  sponge,  leaped  back  with  a  long  stride  to 
the  wheel,  and  number  two,  with  trembling  hand,  forced  the 
charge  down  the  muzzle.  A  little  round-shouldered  man,  the 
officer  Tushin,  stumbling  over  the  tail  of  the  carriage,  hastened 
forward,  without  heeding  the  general,  and  gazed  into  the  dis-  • 
tance  from  under  his  small  hand. 

"  Raise  it  two  lines  more,  there,  there !  that'll  do,"  he  cried 
in  his  little,  thin  voice,  to  which  he  tried  to  impart  a  vigor  ill- 
suiting  his  stature.  "  Number  two ! "  he  whined.  "  Let  'em 
have  it,  Medvyedef ! " 

Bagration  beckoned  to  the  officer,  and  Tushin,  with  an  awk- 
ward and  timid  gesture,  absolutely  unlike  those  used  by  mili- 
tary men,  and  more  like  a  priest  when  giving  a  blessing,  raised 
three  fingers  to  his  visor  and  went  to  the  general.  Although 
it  had  been  intended  for  Tushin's  field-pieces  to  sweep  the 
valley,  he  had  begun  to  send  red-hot  balls  at  the  village  of 
Schongraben,  in  front  of  which  heavy  masses  of  the  French 
could  be  seen  concentrating. 


WAR   AND  PEACE.  216 

No  one  had  directed  Tushin  where  and  how  to  fire,  and  so, 
having  consulted  with  his  sergeant  Zakharchenko,  in  whom  he 
had  great  confidence,  he  decided  that  it^  would  be  a  good  plan 
to  set  the  village  on  fire. 

"Good,"  said  Bagration,  in  reply  to  the  officer's  scheme,  and 
then  began  to  scan  the  field  of  battle  before  him,  and  seemed  to 
be  lost  in  thought. 

On  the  right,  in  the  foreground,  the  French  were  advancing. 
Below  the  height  on  which  the  Kief  regiment  was  stationed, 
in  the  ravine  through  which  flowed  the  brook,  could  be  heard 
the  soul-stirring  roll  and  rattle  of  musketry,  and  just  at  the 
right,  the  attache  pointed  out  to  the  prince  the  column  of  the 
French  trying  to  outflank  our  wing.  At  the  left,  the  horizon 
ended  in  dense  forest. 

Prince  Bagration  ordered  two  battalions  from  the  centre  to 
strengthen  the  right  wing.  The  attach^  ventured  to  remark 
to  the  prince  that  if  these  battalions  were  withdrawn,  the 
artillery  would  be  uncovered.  Prince  Bagration  turned  to  the 
attache  and  without  replying  looked  at  him  through  his  lifeless 
eyes.  It  seemed  to  Prince  Andrei  that  the  attache's  criticism 
▼as  correct  and  that  in  fact  no  reply  could  be  made  to  it.  But 
at  this  instant  an  adjutant  came  galloping  up  from  the  regi- 
mental commander  who  was  in  the  valley,  with  the  report  that 
overwhelming  masses  of  the  French  were  marching  down  upon 
them,  and  that  his  regiment  was  demoralized,  and  was  falling 
back  upon  the  Kief  grenadiers.  Prince  Bagration  inclined  his 
head  in  token  of  assent  and  approval.  He  walked  slowly 
toward  the  right,  and  then  sent  the  adjutant  to  order  the 
dragoons  to  chaise  the  French.  But  after  the  adjutant  h.id 
been  gone  half  an  hour  with  this  order,  he  returned  with  the 
report  that  the  commander  of  the  dragoon  regiment  had  retired 
to  the  other  side  of  the  ravine,  so  as  to  escai)e  the  destructive 
fire  brought  to  bear  upon  him  and  to  avoid  useless  loss  of  life, 
and  therefore  he  had  despatched  sharpshooters  into  the  woods. 
^Good,"  said  Bagration. 

Jost  as  he  was  leaving  the  battery,  at  the  left  also,  the 
reports  of  rifles  in  the  forest  began  to  be  heard,  and  as  it  was 
too  far  for  him  to  reach  the  left  wing  in  time,  Prince  Bagration 
sent  Zherkof  thither  to  tell  the  old  general  —  the  very  one 
who  had  exhibited  his  regiment  before  Kutuzof  at  Braunau  — 
to  retreat  as  soon  as  possible  to  the  other  side  of  the  ravine ; 
aince,  probably,  the  right  wing  would  not  be  strong  enough  to 
withstand  the  enemy  any  length  of  time.  Tushin  and  the 
twttalion  covering  him  were  quite  forgotten. 


216  nAR  ASD  PEACE. 

Prince  Andrei  listened  attentively  to  Prince  Bagration's 
conversation  with  his  subordinates,  and  to  the  oiders  that  he 
issaed,  and  to  his  amazement  discovered  that  in  reality  he  did 
not  give  any  orders  at  jdl,  but  that  the  prince  only  tried  to 
give  the  impression  that  all  that  was  done  by  his  various 
officers  either  through  necessity,  chance,  or  volition,  was  done 
if  not  exactly  by  his  orders,  at  all  events  in  accordance  with 
his  design.  Prince  Andrei  noticed  that  owing  to  the  tact  dis- 
played by  Prince  Bagration,  in  spite  of  the  fortuitousness  of 
events  and  their  absolute  independeuce  of  the  general's  will, 
his  presence  was  of  great  importance.  The  subordinates,  with 
distracted  faces,  who  kept  galloping  up  to  the  prince,  instantly 
became  calm;  soldiers  and  officers  received  him  with  enthu- 
•siasm,  and  were  animated  by  his  presence  and  evidently  took 
pride  in  displaying  their  courage. 


CHAPTER  XVIIL 

Prince  Bagration,  having  ridden  up  to  the  highest  point 
of  our  right  flank,  began  to  make  the  descent,  toward  the  spot 
where  a  continual  rattle  of  musketry  was  heard  and 
nothing  could  be  seen  through  the  gunpowder  smoke.  The 
nearer  they  approached  the  valley,  the  less  they  could  see 
what  was  going  on,  but  the  more  evident  it  became  that  they 
were  near  an  actual  battlefield.  They  began  to  meet  with 
wounded.  One  man,  with  a  bleeding  head,  and  without  his  cap, 
was  being  dragged  along  in  the  arms  of  two  soldiers.  He  was 
gurgling  and  spitting.  The  bullet  had  apparently  entered  his 
mouth  or  throat.  Another  whom  they  met  was  stoutly  march- 
ing off  by  himself,  without  his  musket,  groaning  loudly  and 
shaking  his  injured  hand  with  the  keenness  of  the  smart,  while 
the  blood  was  slowly  dripping  down  on  his  capote.  His  face 
appeared  more  frightened  than  hurt.  He  had  only  just  been 
wounded.  Crossing  the  road,  they  rode  down  a  steep  incline 
and  on  the  slope  they  saw  a  number  of  men  lying;  then  they 
met  a  crowd  of  soldiers,  none  of  whom  were  wounded.  These 
soldiers  were  hurrying  up  the  slope,  breathing  heavily  and  in 
spite  of  the  general's  presence  they  were  talking  in  loud  voices 
and  gesticulating. 

Farther  forward  in  the  smoke  could  now  be  seen  the  ranks 
of  gray  capotes,  and  an  officer  recognizing  Bagration,  dashed 
after  the  retreating  throng  of  men,  shouting  to  them  to  xetorn. 
Bagration  rode  up  to  the  lines^  along  which,  here  and  there 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  217 

could  be  heard  the  swift  cracking  of  musket  shots,  suppressed 
remarks,  and  the  shouts  of  command.  The  whole  atmosphere 
was  dense  with  gunpowder  smoke.  The  faces  of  all  the  sol- 
diers wei-e  blackened  with  powder,  and  full  of  animation.  Some 
were  ramming  the  charge  home,  others  putting  powder  in  the 
pan,  or  taking  wads  from  their  pouches ;  still  others  were  firing. 
But  it  was  impossible  to  make  out  what  they  were  aiming  at 
tlirough  the  dense  cloud  of  smoke  which  hung  in  the  motionless 
air.  Quite  often  could  be  heard  the  pleasant  sounds  of  buzzing 
and  whistling  bullets. 

"What  does  this  mean,"  Prince  Andrei  asked  himself,  as  he 
rode  up  to  this  throng  of  soldiera.  "  It  cannot  be  a  charge, 
because  they  are  not  moving ;  it  cannot  be  a  square,  for  that  is 
not  the  way  they  form." 

The  regimental  commander,  a  rather  spare,  slender,  old  man, 
with  eyelids  that  more  than  half  concealed  his  aged-looking 
eyes,  giving  him  a  benignant  aspect,  rode  up  toward  Prince 
Bagration  with  a  pleasant  smile,  and  received  him  rs  a  host 
receives  a  welcome  guest.  He  explained  to  Prince  Bagration 
that  the  French  had  made  a  cavalry  charge  against  his  regi- 
ment; hut  that,  though  the  charge  had  been  repelled,  it  had  cost 
him  half  of  his  men.  The  regimental  commander  declared 
that  the  charge  had  been  repulsed,  meaning  to  express  by  this 
military  term,  what  had  happened  to  his  forces ;  but  in  rejility 
he  himself  did  not  know  what  had  taken  place  during  the  pre- 
ceding half  hour,  in  the  army  entrusted  to  his  command,  and 
was  unable  to  say  with  absolute  certainty  whether  the  cliarge 
had  been  repulsed  or  whether  his  regiment  had  been  worsted  in 
the  attack.  At  the  beginning  of  the  engagement  he  simply 
knew  this :  that  along  his  whole  line,  cannon  balls  and  shells 
began  to  fly  and  to  kill  his  men,  that  next,  some  one  had  cried 
"the  cavalry,"  and  our  men  had  begun  to  fire.  And  they  had 
been  firing  till  that  time,  not  at  the  cavalry,  which  was  out  of 
sight,  but  at  the  French  infantry  showing  themselves  in  the 
valley  and  shooting  down  our  men. 

Prince  Bagration  inclined  his  head,  to  signify  that  this  was 
just  as  he  had  wished  and  anticipated.  Turning  to  his  adju- 
st, he  ordered  him  to  bring  down  from  the  hill  the  two  bat- 
talions of  the  Sixth  Jagers,  by  which  they  had  just  been  riding. 
At  this  moment  Prince  Andrei  was  struck  by  the  change  which 
harl  taken  place  in  Bagration's  face.  It  expressed  that  concen- 
trated and  joyful  resolution  such  as  is  shown  by  a  man  ready 
on  a  hot  day  to  leap  into  the  water,  and  who  is  taking  the  final 
^un.   That  impression  of  dulness  and  lethargy  covering  a  pre- 


218  ^AR  AND  PEACE. 

tence  of  deep  thouglits,  had  vauislied  quite  away.  His  hawk's 
eyes,  round  and  determined,  looked  straight  ahead  with  an 
enthusiastic  and  rather  contemptuous  expression,  and  wandered 
restlessly  from  one  object  to  another,  although  his  motions 
were  as  slow  and  deliberate  as  before. 

The  regimental  commander  turned  to  Prince  Bagration,  and 
begged  him  to  retire  to  the  rear,  on  the  ground  that  it  was 
very  perilous  where  they  were,  "  Please,  your  illustriousness, 
for  God's  sake,"  said  he,  looking  for  confirmation  to  the  atr 
tache,  who  was  turning  away  from  him.  "  Be  kind  enough  to 
notice." 

He  called  his  attention  to  the  bullets  which  were  constantly 
whizzing,  singing,  and  whistling  around  them.  He  spoke  in  a 
questioning,  reproachful  tone,  such  as  a  joiner  might  use  to  a 
gentleman  trying  to  use  an  axe :  "  This  is  our  work  and  we're 
used  to  it,  but  you  will  callous  your  dainty  hands."  He  spoke 
as  though  there  were  no  possibility  of  these  bullets  killing  him, 
and  his  half-cloju'd  eyes  gave  his  words  a  still  more  persuasive 
effect. 

The  staff  officer  joined  his  entreaties  to  those  of  the  regi- 
mental commander,  but  Prince  Bagration  did  not  deign  to 
answer  him,  and  merely  gave  his  orders  to  have  the  men  cease 
firing  and  to  open  the  ranks  so  as  to  give  room  for  the  two  bat- 
talions that  were  on  their  way  to  join  them.  Just  as  he  issued 
his  command,  a  breeze  springing  up  lifted  the  canopy  of  smoke 
which  covered  the  valley.  It  was  as  though  an  invisible  hand 
stretched  across  the  sky  from  right  to  left,  and  the  opposite 
height,  with  the  French  marching  down,  was  brought  into  full 
view.  All  eyes  were  involuntarily  fixed  upon  this  column  of 
the  enemy  moving  toward  us,  and  winding  like  a  serpent  down 
the  escarpment  of  the  hill.  Already,  the  soldiers'  bearskin 
shakos  could  be  seen ;  already,  the  officers  could  be  distinguished 
from  the  ranks,  and  their  banner,  as  it  clung  around  the  staff. 

"  They  march  superbly,"  said  some  one  in  Bagration's  suite. 

The  head  of  the  column  was  now  just  entering  the  valley. 
The  collision  would  necessarily  take  place  on  this  side  of  the 
ravine. 

The  remains  of  the  regiment  that  had  been  in  the  action  be- 
fore, hastily  reformed  and  went  toward  the  right ;  behind  them, 
driving  in  the  stragglers,  came  the  two  battalions  of  the  Sixth 
Jagers,  in  good  order.  They  had  not  yet  reached  the  position 
where  Bagration  was,  but  their  heavy,  measured  step  could  be 
heard,  as  the  whole  body  kept  perfect  time.  On  the  left  wing, 
nearest  of  all  to  Bagration,  marched  the  company  commander, 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  210 

a  round-faced,  stately  man,  with  a  stupid,  happy  expression  of 
face.  He  was  the  very  man  who  had  been  in  Tushin's  hut.  It 
was  evident  that  his  only  thought  at  this  moment  was  that  he 
was  marching  bravely  past  his  superiors. 

With  the  self-satisfaction  of  one  attracting  notice,  he  marchetl 
by  lightly  on  his  muscular  legs  ;  he  almost  seemed  to  fly,  with- 
out the  slightest  effort  keeping  his  back  straight,  and  distin- 
Kuishiug  himself  by  his  grace  from  the  heavy  march  of  the  men 
who  pressed  on  after  him. 

He  carried  down  by  his  side  a  slender,  delicate  sword,  un- 
sheathed, a  sort  of  curving  scimetar,  not  like  a  weapon,  and 
looking  now  at  the  commander,  now  back  at  his  men,  not  (nice 
losing  step,  he  gallantly  hastened  on,  with  all  the  energy  of  his 
gigantic  frame.  It  seemed  as  though  all  the  strength  of  his 
mind  were  directed  toward  going  past  his  commander  in  the  best 
possible  form  *;  being  conscious  that  he  was  doing  this,  he  was 
happy.  Left!  left!  left!  It  seemed  as  if  he  said  this  in- 
wardly at  every  step,  and  taking  this  same  time,  the  wall  of 
soldiers  marched  by  with  heavy  knapsacks  and  equi]  nu  nt,  as 
though  each  one  of  these  hundreds  of  different  soldi*  rs,  with 
their  grave  faces,  said  to  himself  in  thought,  left  !  left  !  Uft ! 

A  stoat  major,  puffing,  and  losing  step,  as  he  had  to  turn  out 
of  his  way  for  a  bush ;  a  straggler,  gasping  for  breath,  his  face 
expressing  terror  at  his  neglect,  came  at  the  double-quick  to 
overtake  his  company  ;  a  cannon  ball,  condensing  the  air  before 
it,  flew  over  the  heads  of  Bagration  and  his  suite,  and  accent- 
ing the  beat,  left !  left  !  plunged  through  the  column. 

''Close  up  the  ranks !  "  rang  the  intrepid  voice  of  the  com- 
pany commander.  The  soldiers  made  a  bend  around  the  place 
whero  the  shot  had  made  the  gap ;  an  old  cavalryman,  a  non- 
commissioned oiHcer,  who  had  remained  behind  to  care  for  the 
mounded,  regained  the  ranks,- with  a  hop  and  skip  fell  into 
st^p,  and  looked  around  sternly.  Left  !  left !  left !  seemed  to 
resound  from  the  threatening  silence,  and  from  the  monotoii- 
0118  trampling  of  feet  beating  simultaneously  on  the  ground. 

"Brave  fellows,  boys  !  "  said  Prince  Bagration. 

"Glad-ad-ad,"  *  ran  the  reply  down  the  line.  A  morose-look- 
ing soldier,  as  he  passed  at  the  left,  shouting  at  the  top  of  his 
voice,  turned  his  eyes  on  Bagration,  his  expression  seeming  to 
say,  "  You  yourself  know  " ;  another,  not  looking  up,  and  evi- 
dently afraid  of  having  his  attention  distracted,  with  wide  open 
™outh,  shouted  and  went  by.  The  command  was  given  to 
^t  and  unstrap  knapsacks. 

•  Glalof  the  trouble. 


220  J''^*^  ^^^  PEACE, 

Bagration  rode  up  to  the  ranks  that  had  just  marched  past 
him,  and  got  down  from  his  horse.  He  gave  the  bridle  to  a 
Cossack,  took  off  his  burka  and  handed  it  to  him,  stretched  his 
legs,  adjusted  his  leather  cap  on  his  head.  The  head  of  the 
French  column,  with  officers  at  the  front,  now  appeared  at  the 
foot  of  the  hill. 

"  S  Bogom  !  —  Grod  be  with  you  I "  shouted  Bagration,  in 
a  firm,  loud,  ringing  voice,  and  instantly  taking  the  lead,  and 
lightly  waving  his  arm,  led  them  himself,  with  the  awkward 
and  apparently  laborious  gaii,  of  a  cavalryman,  across  the  first 
lialf  of  the  field.  Prince,  Andrei  felt  as  though  some  irresisti- 
ble impulse  dragged  him  forward,  and  he  experienced  a  great 
sense  of  happiness.* 

Already  the  Freneli  were  near  at  hand,  already  Prince  Andrei, 
rushing  on  side  by  side  with  Bagration,  saw  the  belts,  the  red 
epaulets,  even  the  faces  of  the  French.     Hie  clearly  distin-     | 
guished  one  elderly  French  officer,  who,  witli  feet  turned  out     \ 
and  wearing  gaiters,  was  struggling  up  the  hill.)  J 

Prince  Bagration  gave  no  new  orders,  and  marched  on  m  k 
silence  at  the  head  of  his  forces.  Suddenly,  from  among  the  ] 
French,  rang  out  one  discharge,  then  a  second,  a  third !  and 
along  the  whole  extent  of  the  enemy's  lines  spread  smoke  and 
the  rattle  of  musketry.  A  few  of  our  men  fell ;  in  the  num]>er, 
that  round-faced  officer  who  had  marched  by  so  gallantly  and  in 
such  good  form.  But  at  the  very  instant  that  the  first  discharge 
had  taken  place,  Bagration  turned  round  and  shouted  "  hurrah." 

*'  Hurrah-ah-ah,"  rang  in  a  protracted  yell  down  our  line,  and 
outstripping  Bagration  and  each  other,  in  a  broken  but  joyous 
and  animated  line,  our  men  dashed  down  the  slope  after  the 
enemy,  who  had  given  way. 

CHAPTER  XIX. 

The  charge  of  the  Sixth  Jiigers  secured  the  retreat  of  the 
right  wing.  In  the  centre,  the  action  of  Tushin's  forgotten 
battery,  which  had  succeeded  in  setting  the  village  of  Schon- 
graben  on  fire,  retarded  the  advance  of  the  French.     They 

♦  Here  followed  tliat  cliarg«  of  which  Taine says:  *'  The  Rassians behaved 
gallantly,  and,  a  rare  thing  in  war,  two  iniisHes  of  infantry  were  seen  march- 
ing: resolutely  against  each  other,  neither  giving  way  before  they  came  within 
reach  of  each  other.  (Lcs  Russns  se  condu iserent  raiUament,  et  chose  rare  h 
hi  (guerre  on  vit  deux  masses  d'infanterie  marcher  resolttment  Pune  eontrr 
Vaiitre  sans  qu*aucune  des  deux  ceda  avant  d*etre  abordif.)  '*  And  Napoleon 
said  at  Saint  Helena :  "  Quelques  bataiUij^  nisses  montr^rentde  VintrepiU- 
i7(f."— Author's  Note. 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  221 

stopped  to  put  out  the  conflagration,  which  the  wind  was  spread- 
ing, and  thus  gave  time  to  retreat.  The  retirement  of  the 
centre  through  the  ravine  was  accomplished  hastily  and  noisily, 
bat  there  was  no  sign  of  demoralization. 

Bat  the  left  wing,  consisting  of  the  infantry  of  the  Azof  and 
Podolian  regiments,  and  the  Pavlograd  hussars,  which  was  at- 
tacked simidtaneously,  and  outflanked  by  overwhelming  num- 
bers of  the  French,  under  the  command  of  Lannes,  was  de- 
feated 

Bagration  had  sent  Zherkof  to  the  general  in  command  of 
the  left  wing,  with  orders  to  retreat  slowly.  Zherkof,  raising 
his  hand  to  his  cap,  struck  spurs  into  his  horse  and  swiftly 
(lashed  off.  But  he  had  not  more  than  got  out  of  Bagration*s 
sight  than  his  courage  began  to  fail  him.  Irresistible  fear 
came  over  him,  and  he  could  not  make  up  his  mind  to  go  where 
it  seemed  to  him  so  perilous.  . 

He  rode  over  to  the  army  of  the  left  wing,  but  he  did  not 
dare  press  forward  to  the  front,  where  there  was  firing,  and  he 
began  to  search  for  the  general  and  the  officers  where  there  was 
no  possibility  of  finding  them,  and  therefore  the  order  was  not 
delivered. 

The  command  of  the  left  wing  fell  by  order  of  seniority  to 
the  regimental  commander  of  that  same  brigade  which  had 
been  reviewed  at  Braunau  by  Kutuzof,  and  in  which  Dolokhof 
served  as  a  private.  The  command  of  the  extreme  h*ft  wing 
was  entrusted  to  the  colonel  of  the  Pavlograd  rec^inient,  in 
which  Rostof  served.  This  led  to  a  serious  misunderstand- 
ing.  The  two  commanders  had  become  involved  in  a  violent 
quarrel,  and  at  the  very  time  when  the  right  wing  was  in  the. 
thick  oif  the  battle,  and  the  French  had  already  begun  to  re- 
treat, the  two  commanders  were  absorbed  in  a  dispute,  each 
doing  his  best  to  affront  the  other. 

The  troops,  both  infantry  and  cavalry,  were  very  far  from 
being  prepared  for  the  work  before  them.  The  men,  from  pri- 
vate to  general,  were  not  expecting  an  engagement,  and  were 
calmly  occupying  themselves  with  the  ordinary  i)ursuits  of 
peace;  the  cavalrymen  engaged  in  feeding  their  hoi-ses,  the 
infantry  in  collecting  firewood. 

"He's  my  senior,  however,  in  rank,"  the  German  colonel  of 
hnssars  was  saying,  flushing  and  addressing  the  aide  who  had 
jnst ridden  up  to  him,  "so  let  him  do  as  he  pleases.  I  cannot 
sacrifice  my  hussars.     Bugler,  sound  the  retreat  I  " 

But  the  battle  came  upon  them  in  hot  haste.  Cannonade 
and  musketry,  all  in  confusion,  thundered  and  rattled  at  their 


222  ^VAR  AND  PEACE. 

right  and  centre,  and  the  capotes  of  Lannes's  sharpshooters  were 
already  crossing  the  milldam  and  forming  on  this  side,  two 
gunshots  away.  The  infantry  general,  with  his  tottering  g^t< 
went  to  his  horse,  and  mounting  and  drawing  himself  up  very 
straight  and  tall,  rode  off  to  the  Pavlograd  commander.  The 
two  men  met  with  polite  bows,  and  with  concealed  hatred  in 
their  hearts. 

"Once  for  all,  colonel,'*  said  the  general, '' I  cannot  leave 
half  of  my  men  in  the  woods.  I  beg  of  you,  I  really  beg  of 
you,"  he  repeated  the  word,  "to  draw  up  in  position,  and  meet 
the  charge." 

"  I  beg  of  you  not  to  meddle  with  my  affairs,"  replied  the 
colonel,  angrily,  "If  you  were  a  cavalryman "  — 

"  I  am  not  a  cavalryman,  colonel,  but  I  am  a  Russian  general. 
and  if  you  don't  know  this  "  — 

"  I  know  it  very  well,  your  excellency,"  cried  the  colonel,  sud- 
denly starting  up  his  horse  and  turning  pui*ple  with  rage. 
"  Wouldn't  you  like  to  come  to  the  line,  and  then  you  can  see 
that  this  [)osition  is  as  bad  as  it  could  be.  I  do  not  care  to 
destroy  my  regiment  for  your  gratification." 

"  You  forget  yourself,  colonel.  I  am  not  seeking  my  own 
gratification,  and  I  will  not  permit  this  to  be  said." 

The  general,  accepting  the  colonel's  invitation  as  a  challenge  of 
courage,  swelled  out  his  chest  and,  frowning,  rode  forward  with 
him  in  the  direction  of  the  outposts,  as  though  all  their  dispute 
were  to  be  settled  there,  at  the  front,  under  the  fire  of  the  en- 
emy. They  reached  the  outposts  ;  a  few  bullets  flew  over  them 
and  they  paused  and  were  silent.  There  was  no  reason  for  in- 
specting the  outposts,  since  from  the  place  where  they  had 
been  before,  it  was  perfectly  evident  that  there  was  no  chance 
for  cavalry  to  manoeuvre  among  the  bushes  and  gullies,  and 
that  the  French  were  outflanking  the  left  wing. 

The  general  and  colonel  looked  at  each  other  with  fierce  and 
significant  eyes,  like  two  game-cocks  all  ready  for  battle,  and 
each  waited  vainly  for  the  other  to  show  sign  of  cowardice. 
Both  stood  the  test.  As  there  was  nothing  for  them  to  say, 
and  as  neither  wished  to  give  the  other  a  chance  to  assert  that 
he  had  been  the  first  to  retire  from  exposure  to  the  enemy's 
fire,  they  would  have  stood  there  a  long  time,  each  manifesting 
his  bravado,  if  at  this  time  they  had  not  heard  in  the  forest, 
almost  directly  behind  them,  the  crackling  of  musketry  and  a 
dull,  confused  yell. 

Tlie  French  had  fallen  on  the  soldiery  scattered  through  the 
forest  gathering  firewood.     It  was  now  impossible  for  the  hus- 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  223 

sars  to  retreat  at  the  same  time  with  the  infantry.  They  were 
already  cut  off  by  the  French  line  at  the  left.  Now,  although 
the  locality  was  most  unpropitious,  it  was  absolutely  necessary 
to  fight  their  way  through  to  reach  the  road  beyond. 

The  squadron  in  which  Rostof  served  had  barely  time  to 
mount  their  horses,  before  they  found  themselves  face  to  face 
with  the  enemy.  Again,  as  at  the  bridge  over  the  Enns,  between 
the  squadron  and  the  line  of  the  enemy  there  was  no  one,  and 
between  them  lay  that  terrible  gap  of  the  unknown  and  the 
dreadful,  like  the  l)ourne  that  divides  the  living  from  the  dead. 
All  the  men  felt  conscious  of  that  gap,  and  were  occupied  by 
the  question  whether  they  should  pass  beyond  it  or  not,  and 
how  they  should  cross  it. 

The  colonel  came  galloping  along  the  front;  and  angrily 
replied  to  the  questions  of  his  officers,  and  like  a  man  who  in 
despair  insists  on  his  own  way,  thundered  out  some  command. 
No  one  said  anything  definitely,  but  something  had  given  the 
.squadron  an  idea  that  there  was  to  be  a  charge.  The  command 
to  fall  in  was  given,  then  sabres  were  drawn  with  a  clash. 
But  as  yet  no  one  stirred.  The  army  of  the  left  wing  and  the 
infantry  and  the  hussars  felt  that  their  leaders  did  not  know 
what  to  do,  and  the  indecision  of  the  commanders  communi- 
cated itself  to  the  soldiers. 

"If  they  would  only  hurry,  hurry,''  thought  Eostof,  feeling 
that  at  last  the  time  was  at  hand  for  participating  in  the 
intoxication  of  a  charge  of  which  he  had  heard  so  much  from 
his  comrades,  the  hussars.  p 

"  S  Bogorn  I  Fohwahd,  childwen,"  rang  out  Denisof  s  voice, 
"  twot ! " 

In  the  front  rank,  the  haunches  of  the  horses  began  to  rise 
and  fall.  Grachik  began  to  pull  on  the  reins,  and  •dashed 
ahead.  At  the  right,  Rostof  could  see  the  forward  ranks  of 
his  hussars,  but  farther  in  front  there  wius  a  dark  streak,  which 
he  could  not  make  out  distinctly  but  supposed  to  be  the  enemy. 
Reports  were  heard,  but  in  the  distance. 

"Charge!"  rang  the  command,  and  Rostof  felt  how  liis 
Grachik  broke  into  a  gallop  and  seemed  to  strain  every  nerve. 
He  realized  that  his  division  was  dashing  forward  and  it  be- 
came more  and  more  exciting  to  liim.  He  noticed  a  solitary 
tree  just  abreast  of  him.  At  hrst  this  tree  had  been  in  front 
of  him,  in  the  very  centre  of  that  line  which  seemed  so  terri- 
ble. But  now  he  had  passed  beyond  it  and  there  was  not  only 
nothing  terrible  about  it,  but  it  seemed  ever  more  and  more 
jolly  and  lively. 


224  ^y^R  AND  PEACE, 

"Okh!  how  I  will  slaflh  at  them!"  thought  Rostof,  as  he 
grasped  the  liandle  of  his  sabre.  "  Hurrah-ah-ah-ah  ! "  rang 
the  cheers  in  the  distance.  "  Now  let  us  be  at  them  if  ever," 
thought  Rostof,  striking  the  spurs  into  Grachik,  and  overtak* 
ing  the  others,  he  urged  him  to  the  top  of  his  speed.  The 
enemy  were  already  in  sight  before  him.  Suddenly,  some- 
thing like  an  enormous  lash  cracked  all  along  the  squadron. 
Rostof  raised  his  sabre,  in  readiness  to  strike,  but  just  at  that 
instant  Nikitenko,  a  hussar  galloping  in  front  of  him,  swerved 
aside  from  him,  and  Rostof  felt,  as  in  a  dream,  that  he  was 
being  carried  with  unnatural  swiftness  forward,  and  yet  was 
not  moving  from  the  spot.  A  hussar  whom  he  recognized  as 
Handarchuk  was  galloping  behind  him  and  looked  at  him 
gravely.     Randarchuk's  horse  shied  and  he  dashed  by  him. 

"  What  does  it  mean  ?  Am  1  not  moving  ?  Have  I  fallen  ? 
Ami  dead  ?  "  these  questions  Rostof  asked  and  answered  in  a 
breath.  He  was  alone  in  the  middle  of  the  iield.  In  place  of 
the  galloping  horses  and  backs  of  the  hussars,  he  saw  all  around . 
him  the  solid  earth  and  stubble.  Warm  blood  was  under  him. 
"  No,  I  am  wounded  and  my  horse  is  killed." 

Grachik  raised  himself  on  his  fore  logs,  but  fell  back,  pinning 
down  his  rider's  foot.  From  the  horse's  head  a  stream  of  blood 
was  flowing.  The  horse  struggled  but  could  not  rise.  Rostof 
tried  to  get  to  his  feet,  but  likewise  fell  back.  His  sabre- 
tasche  had  ciaught  on  the  saddle.  Where  our  men  were,  where 
the  French  were,  he  could  not  tell.  There  was  no  one  around 
him.  ^ 

Freeing  his  leg,  he  got  up. 

"  W^here,  in  which  direction,  is  now  that  line  which  so  clearly 
separated  the  two  armies  ?  "  ho  asked  himself,  and  could  find 
no  ans^i^r.  "  Has  something  bad  happened  to  me  ?  Is  this 
the  way  things  take  place,  and  what  must  be  done  in  such 
circumstances  ?  "  he  asked  himself  again,  as  he  got  to  his  feet ; 
and  at  this  time  he  began  to  feel  as  though  soraothing  extra 
were  hanging  to  his  benumbed  loft  arm.  His  wrist  seemed  to 
belong  to  another  person.  He  looked  at  his  hand,  but  could 
find  no  trace  of  blood  on  it.  "  There  now,  here  are  our  fel- 
lows," he  exclaimed  mentally,  with  joy,  perceiving  a  few  run- 
ning toward  him.     **They  will  help  me." 

In  front  of  these  men  ran  one  in  a  foreign-looking  shako 
and  in  a  blue  capote.  He  was  dark  and  sunburnt,  and  had  a 
hooked  nose.     Two  or  three  others  were  running  at  his  heels. 

One  of  them  said  something  in  a  language  that  was  strange 
and  un-Russian.     Surrounded  by  a  similar  set  of  men,  in  the 


WAH  AND  PEACE.  225 

same  sort  of  shakos,  stood  a  Russian  hussar.    His  hands  were 
held ;  just  behind  him,  they  were  holding  his  horse. 

"Is  our  man  really  taken  prisoner?  Yes  !  And  will  they 
take  me  too  ?  Who  are  these  men  ?  "  Kostof  kept  asking 
himself,  not  crediting  his  own  eyes.  ''Can  they  be  the 
French  ?  " 

He  gazed  at  the  on-coming  strangers,  and  in  spite  of  the  fact 
that  only  a  second  before  he  had  been  clashing  forward  solely 
for  the  purpose  of  overtaking  and  hacking  down  these  same 
Frenchmen,  their  proximity  now  seemed  to  him  so  terrible 
that  he  could  not  trust  his  own  eyes  ! 

"Who  are  they  ?  Why  are  they  running?  Are  they  run- 
ning at  me  ?  And  why  ?  Is  it  to  kill  me  ?  Me,  whom  every 
one  loves  so  ?  " 

He  recollected  how  he  was  beloved  by  his  mother,  his  family, 
his  friends,  and  the  purpose  of  his  enemies  to  kill  him  seemed 
incredible.  , 

"But  perhaps  —  they  may."  For  more  than  ten  seconds  he 
stood,  not  moving  from  the  spot  and  not  realizing  his  situation. 

The  foremost  Frenchman  with  the  hooked  nose,  had  now 
come  up  so  close  to  him,  that  he  could  j-te  the  expn?^sion  of 
his  face.  And  the  heated  foreign-looking  features  of  thi.s  nu.n, 
who  was  coming  so  swiftly  down  upon  him  with  fixed  bayonet 
and  Ijated  breath,  filled  Rostof  with  horror.  He  grasped  his 
pistol,  but  instead  of  discharging  it,  flung  it  at  the  Frenchmen, 
and  fled  into  the  thicket  with  all  his  might.  He  ran  not  with 
any  of  that  feeling  of  doubt  and  struggle  M'hich  had  possessed 
him  on  the  bridge  at  Enns,  but  rather  with  the  inipuise  of  a 
hare  trying  to  escape  from  the  dogs.  One  single  fear  of  losing 
his  happy  young  life  took  jiossession  of  his  whole  being. 
Swiftly  gliding  among  the  heather,  with  all  the  intensity  with 
w^hich  he  had  ever  run  when  playing  ff(/re/ki.  •  he  flew  acroj-s 
the  field,  occasionally  turning  round  his  i>ale,  kindly  youn^r 
face,  while  a  chill  of  horror  ran  down  his  back. 

"No,  Vd  better  not  look  round,"  he  paid  to  himself,  V>ut  as 
he  reached  the  shelter  of  the  bushes,  Ije  fO'*^n('^d  round  once 
inore.  The  Frenchmen  had  slackened  their  pace,  and  at  the 
yery  minute  that  he  glanced  round,  the  foremost  runner  hud 
]nst  come  to  a  stop  and  was  starting  to  walk  back,  shouting 
something  in  a  loud  voice  to  his  comrade  liehind  him.  Kostof 
paused.  "It  cannot  be  so,"  he  said  to  himself.  "It  cannot 
|>ethat  they  wish  to  kill  me."  But  meantime  his  left  arm 
oecame  as  heavy  as  though  a  hundredweight  were  siis- 
*  A  kind  of  Roasian  popular  game,  something  Hk«  tag. 
VOL.  1.— 15. 


i>26  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

pended  to  it.  He  could  not  run  another  step.  The  French- 
man also  paused,  and  aimed.  Rostof  shut  his  eyes  and  ducked 
his  head.  One  bullet,  then  another,  flew  humming  by  him- 
He  collected  his  last  remaining  energies,  took  his  left  arm 
in  his  right  hand,  and  hurried  into  the  thicket.  Here  in  the 
bushes  were  the  Kussian  rangers. 


.    CHAPTER  XX. 

The  infantry  regiments,  taken  unawares  in  the  forest,  had 
rushed  out,  and  the  companies,  becoming  confused  with  one 
another,  had  formed  a  demoralized  mob.  One  soldier,  in  his 
panic,  had  shouted  the  senseless  words  so  terrible  in  war: 
"  Cut  off ! "  and  these  words,  with  the  accompanying  panic, 
had  spread  through  the  whole  troop.  "  Surrounded ! "  —  "cut 
off  ! "  —  "  lost !  "  cried  the  voices  of  the  fugitives. 

The  regimental  commander,  the  moment  that  he  heard  the 
musketry  and  the  shouting  behind  him,  comprehended  that 
something  awful  had  happened  to  his  regiment,  and  the  thought 
that  he,  who  had  been  during  many  years  of  service  an  exem- 
plary officer,  never  guilty  of  any  breach,  might  now  be  accused 
of  negligence  or  faulty  arrangements,  came  on  him  so  keenly, 
that,  for  the  moment  entirely  forgetting  the  recalcitrant  colonel 
of  cavalry  and  his  own  importance  as  a  general,  and,  above  all, 
forgetting  the  peril  and  the  impulse  of  self-preservation,  he 
seized  his  saddle-bow,  and  spurring  on  his  horse,  dashed  back 
toward  the  regiment  under  a  shower  of  bullets  falling  all  around 
him,  but  fortunately  sparing  him.  He  had  only  one  desire :  to 
find  out  what  had  occurred,  to  bring  aid,  and  to  repair  the 
blunder,  if  it  were  in  any  way  to  be  attributed  to  him,  and  to 
escape  all  censure  after  his  twenty-two  years'  service,  in  which 
his  record  as  an  officer  had  been  blameless. 

Having  fortunately  spurred  through  the  line  of  the  French 
unharmed,  he  came  upon  his  regiment  on  the  other  side  of  the 
same  forest  through  which  our  men  had  been  running  and  sc^it- 
tering  down  the  ravine,  not  heeding  the  word  of  command. 

That  moment  of  moral  vacillation  had  arrived  which  decides 
the  fate  of  a  battle  :  would  these  scattered  throngs  of  soldiers 
heed  their  commander's  voice,  or  would  they  merely  look  at 
liim  and  pursue  their  way  ? 

Notwithstanding  the  despairing  shouts  of  their  general, 
which  had  hitherto  been  so  terrible  to  them,  notwithstanding 
his  infuriated,  purple  face,  so  unlike  its  ordinary  appearance, 


WAn  AND  PEACE.  227 

and  notwithstanding  his  brandished  sword,  the  soldiers  still 
persisted  in  their  flight,  shouted,  fired  their  guns  into  the  air, 
and  paid  no  heed  to  the  command.  The  moral  balance,  which 
decides  the  destiny  of  battles,  had  evidently  kicked  the  beam 
on  the  side  of  panic. 

The  general  coughed,  choking  with  the  violence  of  his  shouts 
and  the  gunpowder  smoke,  and  reined  in  his  horse  in  despair. 
All  seemed  lost. 

But  at  this  moment,  the  French,  who  had  fallen  upon  ou/ 
lines,  suddenly,  without  any  apparent  reason,  fell  back  and 
vanished  behind  the  edge  of  the  forest,  and  the  Russian  sl)ari>- 
shooters  made  their  appearance.  This  wasTimokhin's  company, 
the  only  one  in  the  woods  which  had  preserved  any  semblance 
of  order;  entrenching  themselves  in  the  ditch  near  the  forest, 
they  had  unexpectedly  attacked  the  French.  Timokhin  had 
thrown  himself  upon  the  enemy  with  such  a  desperate  ctv,  and 
flourishing  his  rapier,  had  dashed  after  them  with  such  frantic 
and  rash  energy,  that  the  French,  before  they  had  time  to  col- 
lect their  wits,  flung  away  their  muskets  and  fled. 

Dolokhof,  dashing  on  abreast  of  Timokhin,  killed  one  French- 
man i)oint  blank,  and  was  the  first  to  seize  the  officer  by  the 
collar  and  make  his  surrender.  The  fugitives  turned  back, 
the  battalions  formed  again,  and  the  French,  who  had  cut  the 
left  wing  into  two,  were  drjven  back  in  a  trice.  The  reserves 
succeeded  in  uniting  their  forces ;  the  fugitives  were  brought 
to  a  halt. 

The  regimental  commander  was  standing  with  Major  Eko- 
Doraof  by  the  bridge,  watching  the  retreating  companies  file 
past  him,  when  a  soldier  approached  him,  seized  his  stirrup,  and 
almost  leaned  against  him.  This  soldier  wore  a  blue  cloak  of 
broadcloth,  without  knapsack  or  shako ;  his  head  was  br^iund 
np  and  over  his  shoulder  he  carried  a  French  cartrirlge  [Kiuch. 
In  his  hand,  he  held  an  officer's  sword.  This  soldif»r  was  jkiIp  ; 
his  blue  eyes  looked  boldly  into  the  generaVs  iiwf.  and  a  sniile 
parted  his  lips.  Although  the  general  was  enjxaj^ed  in  giviri'^ 
directions  to  Major  Ekonomof,  he  could  not  help  noticing  this 
soldier. 

"Your  excellency,  here  are  two  trophies,''  said  Dolokhof, 
showing  the  French  cartridge-pouch  and  sword.  "  1  Uyok  an 
officer  prisoner  with  my  own  hand.     I  stopj)ed  tlie  coTnjiany.'' 

Dolokhof  was  all  out  of  breath  with  fatigue.  Hh  Kj>r,ke 
in  broken  sentences.  "The  whole  company  can  l>ear  me  wit- 
ness—I beg  of  you  to  remember  it,  your  excellency  !" 

"Very  good,  very  good,"  said  the  regimental  commander,  and 


228  WAR  AND  PEACE, 

he  turned  to  Major  Ekonoraof.  But  Dolokhof  did  not  pass  on. 
He  untied  his  handkerchief,  pulled  him  by  the  sleeve,  and 
called  his  attention  to  the  clotted  blood  on  his  hair, — 

"  A  bayonet  wound ;  I  was  in  the  front.  Remember,  your 
excellency !  '^ 

Tushin's  battery  had  been  entirely  forgotten,  and  only  at 
the  very  end  of  the  engagement,  Prince  Bagration,  still  hear- 
ing cannonading  at  the  centre,  sent  thither  the  first  staff  offi- 
cer of  the  day,  and  then  Prince  Andrei,  to  order  the  battery  to 
retire  as  speedily  as  possible. 

The  covering  forces,  which  had  been  stationed  near  Tushin's 
cannon,  had  been  withdrawn  during  the  heat  of  the  engage- 
ment by  some  one's  orders ;  but  the  battery  still  continued  to 
blaze  away,  and  had  not  been  taken  by  the  French,  simply  be- 
cause the  enemy  could  not  comprehend  the  audacity  of  four 
guns  continuing  to  tire,  after  the  supporting  columns  had  been 
withdrawn.  On  the  contrary,  they  supposed,  from  the  energetic 
activity  of  this  battery,  that  the  princii>al  forces  of  the  Russians 
were  here  concentrated  in  the  centre,  and  twice  they  attempted 
to  storm  this  point,  and  both  times  thej'^  were  driven  back  by 
discharges  of  grape  from  these  four  cannon,  standing  alone 
on  the  hill. 

Shortly  after  Prince  Bagration's  departure,  Tushin  had  suc- 
ceeded in  setting  Schongraben  on  tire. 

"  See,  see  them  scatter ! "  —  "  It  bums !  see  the  smoke  ! "  — 
«  Cleverly  done ! "— "  Splendid !  "— "  The  smoke  !  the  smoke ! " 
cried  the  gunners,  growing  excited. 

All  the  cannon  had  been  directed,  without  special  orders,  in 
the  direction  of  the  fire.  As  though  by  one  impulse  the  sol- 
diers would  cry  out  after  every  shot,  ** Cleverly  done!"  — 
"  That's  the  way  to  do  it !  "  —  "  See  !  see  there  !  admirable ! " 

The  fire,  fanned  by  tlie  wind,  quickly  spread.  The  French 
columns,  retreating  behind  the  village,  fell  hack,  but  as  though 
for  a  punishment  for  this  misfortune,  the  enemy  established  a 
battery  of  ten  guns  a  little  to  the  right  of  the  village  and  began 
to  reply  to  Tushin's  fire. 

In  their  childish  delight  at  setting  the  village  on  fire,  and  at 
their  successful  onslaught  upon  the  French,  our  gunners  did 
not  notice  this  battery  until  two  cannon  balls,  followed  by  four 
at  once,  fell  among  the  gims ;  one  of  them  knocked  over  two 
horses,  and  the  other  carried  away  the  leg  of  the  i)owder-mas- 
cer.  The  animation  of  the  men,  once  aroused,  was  not  damp- 
ened, however,  but  only  changed  in  character.     The  horses 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  229 

were  replaced  by  two  others  from  the  reserve ;  the  wounded 
were  removed,  and  the  four  cannon  were  turned  against  the 
ten-gun  battery. 

An  officer,  Tushin's  comrade,  had  been  killed  at  the  begin- 
ning of  the  action,  and  during  the  course  of  the  hour,  out  of 
forty  men  serving  the  guns,  seventeen  were  disabled,  but  still 
the  gunners  were  jolly  and  full  of  energy.  Twice  they  noticed 
that  below  and  not  far  away  from  them  the  French  were  begin- 
ning to  appear,  and  they  had  loaded  with  grape. 

The  little  captain,  with  his  weak,  awkward  gestures,  kept  call- 
ing upon  his  denshchik  for  "just  one  more  little  pipe,"  which  he 
called  trAotckkay  instead  of  trubotchka,  and  then,  knocking  the 
ajihes  out,  he  would  leap  forward  and  look  from  under  his  lit- 
tle hand  at  the  enemy. 

"  Let  'em  have  it  boys ! "  he  would  exclaim,  and  himself 
seizing  the  cannon  by  the  wheel,  he  would  bring  it  back  into 
position,  or  he  would  clean  out  the  bore.  In  the  smoke,  stunned 
hy  the  incessant  firing,  though  he  jumped  every  time  a  gun 
went  off,  Tushin,  keeping  his  "nose-warmer'  between  his 
teeth,  ran  from  one  gun  to  another,  now  aiming,  now  counting 
the  charges  left,  now  making  arrangements  for  the  change  or  re- 
moval of  the  killed  or  wounded  horses,  and  shouting  his  orders 
in  his  weak,  delicate,  irresolute  voice.  His  face  kept  growing 
more  and  more  animated.  Only  when  his  men  were  killed  or 
wounded  did  he  frown,  and,  turning  away  from  the  unfortu- 
nate, shout  sternly  to  the  others,  who,  as  usual,  i)ressed  forward, 
ordering  them  to  carry  away  the  wounded  or  the  detid. 

The  soldiers,  for  the  most  part,  handsome  young  heroes,  —  as 
always  happens  in  the  artillery,  a  couple  of  heads  taller  than 
their  officer,  and  twice  as  broadly  built,  —  looked  at  their  com- 
mander mth  the  inquiring  look  of  children  in  trouble,  and  the 
expression  which  happened  to  be  in  his  face  was  immediately 
reflected  in  theirs. 

As  a  consequence  of  the  terrible  din  and  roar,  and  the  neces- 
sity for  oversight  and  activity,  Tushin  felt  not  the  least  un- 
pleasant qualm  of  fear,  nor  did  the  thought  that  he  might  be 
killed  or  painfully  wounded  enter  his  head.  On  the  contrary, 
te  kept  growing  happier  and  happier.  It  seemed  to  him  that 
It  was  very  long  ago,  not  even  that  same  afternoon,  since  the 
moment  when  he  first  caught  sight  of  the  advancing  enemy, 
and  had  fired  the  first  gun,  and  that  the  little  scrap  of  ground 
where  he  stood  had  been  long,  long  known  and  familiar  to  him. 
Although  he  remembered  everything,  took  everything  into  con- 
sideration, did  everything  that  the  best  of  officers  could  have 


230  ^y^^n   A\D  PEACE. 

done  in  his  position,  still  he  was  in  a  state  bordering  on  the 
delirium  of  fever,  or  the  condition  of  a  drunken  man. 

In  the  midst  of  the  stunning  sounds  of  his  own  guns  roaring 
on  every  side  of  him,  in  the  midst  of  the  enemy's  shells,  whist- 
ling and  striking  around  him,  seeing  his  sweating,  flushed  men 
serving  the  guns,  seeing  the  blood  of  men  and  horses,  seeing 
the  puifs  of  smoke  in  the  direction  of  the  enemy,  followed 
always  by  the  swift  flight  of  the  cannon  ball,  striking  into  the 
ground,  on  a  human  being,  on  the  guns,  or  among  the  horses  — 
seeing  all  these  various  sights,  still  his  mind  was  tilled  with  a 
fuiitastic  world  of  his  own,  which  at  this  momiMit  ^.-onstituted  a 
peculiar  delight  to  him.  The  .enemy's  guns  were  in  his  imag- 
ination, not  guns  but  pipes,  from  which,  from  time  to  time,  a 
viewless  smoker  puffs  out  wreaths  of  smoke. 

"  See  there,  he  gave  another  puff  !  "  said  Tushin,  in  a  half 
whisper,  to  himself,  just  as  a  wreath  of  smoke  leaped  away 
from  the  hill  and  was  borne  to  the  left  in  a  ribbon  by  the 
wind. 

"  Now  let  us  catch  the  little  ball  and  send  it  back  ! " 

"What  is  your  order,  your  honor?  "asked  a  gunner  who 
stood  near  him,  and  noticed  that  he  muttered  something. 

"  Nothing,  send  a  shell,"  he  replied. 

"  Now  then,  our  Matveyevna  ! "  said  he  to  himself.  It  was 
the  great,  old  fashioned  howitzer  that  Tushin  personified  under 
the  name  of  Matveyevna,  Daughter  of  Matthew. 

The  French  around  their  guns  reminded  him  of  ants.  Gun- 
ner "  Number  one,"  of  the  second  field-piece,  a  handsome  fel- 
low, too  much  given  to  drink,  was  dyadya,  uncle,  in  his  world ; 
Tushin  looked  at  him  of  tener  than  at  the  others,  and  delighted 
in  all  his  movements.  The  sound  of  the  musketry  in  the  val- 
ley, now  dying  away  and  then  increasing  in  violence,  seemed 
to  him  like  some  one  drawing  long  breaths.  He  listened  to 
the  intermittent  rising  and  falling  of  these  sounds. 

"  Hark !  she's  breathing  again,  breathing  hard ! "  he  said 
to  himself. 

He  imagined  himself  a  mighty  giant  of  monstrous  size,  seiz- 
ing the  cannon  balls  with  both  hands  and  hurling  them  at  the 
French. 

"  Well,  Matveyevna, —  Mdtushka  !  —  little  mother !  don't  be- 
tray us,"  he  was  just  saying,  and  starting  away  from  the  can- 
non, when  back  of  him  was  heard  a  voice  which  he  did  not 
know, — 

"  Captain  Tushin  !  Captain  !  " 

Tushin  looked  around  in  alarm.     It  was  the  same  staff  officer 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  231 

who  had  sent  him  out  of  Gnind.  In  a  quavering  voice,  the  offi- 
cer cried, — 

"  Are  you  beside  yourself  ?  Twice  you  have  been  ordered  to 
retire,  and  you  "  — 

"  Now  why  do  they  bother  me  ?  "  exclaimed  Tushin  to  him- 
self, looking  with  dread  at  the  officer.  "I  —  I'm  all  right,"  he 
returned,  raising  two  fingers  to  his  visor.     "  I ''  — 

But  the  colonel  did  not  say  all  that  he  meant  to  say.  A 
caiiDon  ball  %'ing  close  to  him  cut  him  short,  and  made  him 
cower  down  close  to  his  horse.  He  paused,  and  was  just  going 
to  repeat  his  order,  when  still  another  cannon  ball  silenced  him. 
He  wheeled  his  horse  round  and  galloped  away. 

"  Retire  !  all  of  you,  retire  !  "  he  cried  from  the  distance. 

The  soldiers  laughed.  In  a  minute  an  adjutant  came  with 
the  same  order. 

This  was  Prince  Andrei.  The  first  thing  he  saw  as  he  reached 
the  little  space  occupied  by  Tushin's  cannon,  was  an  unharnessed 
horse,  with  a  broken  leg,  neighing  near  his  mates.  From  his 
leg  the  blood  was  spurting  as  from  a  fountain.  Among  the 
limbers  lay  a  number  of  the  killed.  One  cannon  ball  after 
another  flew  over  him  as  he  galloped  up,  and  he  was  conscious 
of  a  nervous  tremor  running  down  his  back.  But  the  mere 
thought  that  he  was  afraid,  again  roused  his  courage.  "  I  can- 
not be  afraid,"  he  said  to  himself,  and  he  deliberately  dis- 
mounted amq§g  the  field-pieces.  He  delivered  his  message 
and  still  lingered  in  the  battery.  He  resolved  that  the  guns 
should  be  removed  from  their  position  and  brought  in  under 
his  direction.  He  and  Tushin,  stepping  among  the  dead  bodies, 
made  the  arrangements  for  limbering  the  cannon,  even  while 
the  French  were  pouring  a  murderous  fire  upon  them. 

"  An  officer  just  dashed  up  here,  but  he  made  himself  scarce 
in  no  time,"  remarked  a  gunner  to  Prince  Andrei.  "  He  wasn't 
liice  your  honor." 

Prince  Andrei  exchanged  no  words  with  Tushin.  They 
were  both  so  occupied  that  it  seemed  as  though  they  did  not 
see  each  other.  When  at  last  they  succeeded  in  getting  two  of 
the  four  field-pieces  limbered,  they  started  to  descend  the  hill, 
leaving  one  field-piece  dismounted,  together  with  the  howitzer. 
Prince  Andrei  turned  to  Tushin.  "  Well,  good-by,"  said  he, 
offering  him  his  hand. 

"Good-by,  my  dear,"  returned  Tushin,  "dear  heart,  fare- 
well, my  dear  fellow ! "  *  exclaimed  Tushin,  the  tears  springing 
to  his  eyes  though  he  knew  not  why. 

*  Do  $viddny<it  qoluhchik  /  prwhchdltet  golubchik ! 


I 


232  WAR  AND  PEACE. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

The  breeze  had  died  down ;  dark  clouds  hung  low  over  the 
battlefield,  mingling  on  the  horizon  with  the  smoke  of  gun- 
powder. It  had  grown  dark,  and  therefore  with  all  the  more 
clearness  the  blaze  of  two  burning  villages  stood  out  against 
the  sky.  The  cannonade  had  slackened,  but  still  the  rattle  of 
musketry  at  the  rear,  and  at  the  right  was  heard  with  ever- 
increasing  frequency  and  distinctness. 

As  soon  as  Tushiu  and  his  field-pieces,  jolting  and  constantly 
meeting  wounded  men,  got  out  of  range  and  descended  into  the 
ravine,  he  was  met  by  the  commander  and  his  aides,  among 
whom  were  both  the  staff  officer  and  Zherkof,  who  had  been 
twice  sent  but  had  not  once  succeeded  in  reaching  Tushiu's 
battery.  All  of  them  gave  him  confused  orders  and  counter- 
orders,  as  to  how  and  where  to  go,  and  overwhelmed  him  with 
reproaches  and  criticisms. 

Tushin  made  no  arrangements,  but  rode  toward  the  rear  on 
his  artillery  jade,  not  saying  a  word  for  fear  he  should  burst 
into  tears,  which  without  his  knowing  why,  were  ready  to  gush 
from  his  eyes.  Although  the  order  was  to  abandon  the 
wounded,  many  dragged  themselves  after  the  troops  and 
begged  for  a  ride  on  the  gun  carriages.  That  vep/  same  gallant 
infantry  officer  who  before  the  beginning  of  the  engagement, 
had  darted  so  energetically  from  Tushin's  hut,  was  stretched 
out  on  the  carriage  of  the  Matv6yevna,  with  a  bullet  in  his  belly. 
At  the  foot  of  the  hill,  a  [)ale  yunker  of  hussars,  holding  one 
arm  in  his  hand,  came  to  Tushin  and  asked  for  a  seat1 

"Captain,  for  God's  sake,  my  arm  is  crushed,"  said  he,  tim- 
idly, "  For  God's  sake,  I  can't  walk  any  longer.  For  God's 
sake ! " 

It  was  evident  that  this  yunker  had  more  than  once  repeated 
this  request  and  been  everywhere  refused.  He  asked  in  aii 
irresolute  and  piteous  voice.  "Give  me  a  place,  for  Grod's 
sake ! " 

"  Climb  on,  climb  on  ! "  said  Tushin.  "  Spread  out  a  cloak, 
uncle,"  he  added,  turning  to  his  favourite  gunner.  "  But  where 
is  the  wounded  officer  ?  " 

"  We  took  him  off ;  he  died,"  replied  some  one. 

"  Climb  on !  Sit  there,  sit  down,  my  dear  fellow,  sit  there ! 
Spread  out  the  cloak,  Antonof !  " 

The  yunker  was  Bostof.     He  held  his  left  arm  in  his  right 


WAK  AND  PEACE.  233 

hand ;  his  face  was  pale,  and  his  teeth  chattered  with  fever. 
He  was  assisted  to  climb  on  the  Matveyevna,  to  the  very  same 
spot  from  which  they  had  removed  the  dead  officer.  There 
was  blood  on  the  cloak  which  Antonof  spread  out,  and  it  stain- 
ed Rostof  s  riding  trousers  and  hands. 

"  What !  are  you  wounded,  my  dear  ?  "  *  asked  Tnshin,  ap- 
proaching the  gun  on  which  Kostof  was  riding. 

**  No,  only  a  bruise." 

"  But  where  did  that  blood  come  from,  on  the  gun  cheek  ? '' 
asked  the  other. 

*'That  is  the  officer's,  your  honor,"  replied  a  gunner,  wiping 
away  the  blood  with  the  sleeve  of  his  capote,  as  though  he 
were  apologizing  for  the  stain  on  the  gun. 

By  main  force  and  with  the  help  of  the  infantry,  the  guns 
were  dragged  up  the  slope,  and  when  they  reached  the  village 
of  Gunthersdorf,  they  halted.  Hy  this  time  it  was  quite  dark, 
so  that  it  was  impossible  at  ten  parses  to  distinguish  the  uni- 
forms of  the  soldiers;  the  musketry  tire  was  beginning  to 
slacken. 

Suddenly  shouts  and  the  rattle  of  shots  were  heard  again  near 
by  at  the  right.  The  darkness  was  lighted  up  by  the  flashes 
of  the  guns.  This  was  the  last  attack  of  the  French,  and  the 
soldiers  replied  to  it  as  they  entrenched  themselves  in  the 
houses  of  the  village.  Once  more  all  hands  rushed  out  from 
the  village,  biit  Tushin's  field-pieces  were  ho[)elessly  fast,  and 
the  gunners  and  Tushin  and  the  yunker,  silently  exchang- 
ingf  glances,  awaited  their  fate.  Then  the  firing  began  to  die 
away  once  more  and  out  from  a  side  street  came  a  party  of 
soldiers,  engaged  in  lively  conversation. 

"  Safe  and  sound,  Petrof  ?  "  asked  one. 

"  We  gave  it  to  them  hot  and  heavy,  brother.  They  won't 
meddle  with  us  again."  returned  the  other. 

"Can't  see  a  thing.  How  was  it?  Warmed  'em  up  a 
little,  hev  ?  Can't  see  a  thing,  it's  so  dark,  fellows !  Anything 
to  drink  ?  " 

The  French  had  been  driven  back  for  the  last  time.  And 
once  more,  through  the  impenetrable  darkness,  Tushin's  field 
pieces  moved  forward,  surrounded  by  the  rumbling  infantry  as 
hy  a  frame. 

Something  seemed  to  be  flowing  on  through  the  darkness, 
like  an  invisible,  gloomy  river,  ever  pushing  forward  in  one 
direction,  with  a  murmur  of  voices,  and  the  clinking  of 
hayonets,  and  the  rumble  of  wheels. 

»  Golubchik. 


234  IV AR  AND  PEACE, 

And  above  the  general  turmoil,  clear  and  distinguishable 
above  all  other  sounds  arose  the  groans  and  cries  of  the 
wounded  in  the  blackness  of  the  night.  Their  groans  seemed 
to  coincide  with  the  pitchy  blackness  which  surrounded  the 
army.  Their  groans  and  this  darkness  of  the  night  seemed 
to  be  one  and  the  same  thing.  After  a  while,  a  wave  of  excite- 
ment ran  througli  this  onward  struggling  mass.  Some  one  had 
come  from  headquarters  on  a  white  horse  and  shouted  some- 
thing as  he  rode  along  by. 

"  What's  that  he  says  ?  "— "  Where  now  ?  "— "  Is  it  to  halt  ?  " 
—  "  Did  he  express  any  gratitude  ?  "  such  w^ere  the  eager  ques- 
tions heard  on  all  sides  and  then  the  whole  moving  mass  as  it 
moved  forward,  recoiled  on  itself.  Evidently,  the  van  had 
halted,  and  the  report  si)read  that  orders  were  to  bivouac  there. 
All  hands  settled  down  where  they  were  in  the  middle  of  the 
muddy  road. 

Fires  were  lighted,  and  voices  began  to  grow  animated. 
Captain  Tushin,  having  made  his  arrangements  for  his  com- 
pany, sent  one  of  his  men  to  find  the  temporary  hospital,  or 
at  least  a  surgeon  for  the  yunker,  and  sat  dow^n  in  front  of 
the  fire  which  his  soldiers  had  built  by  the  roadside. 

Rostof  also  dragged  himself  up  to  the  fire.  The  fever,  caused 
by  his  pain,  the  cold,  and  the  dampness,  shook  his  whole  frame. 
An  irresistible  inclination  to  drow^siness  overcame  him,  but  still 
he  could  not  sleep,  owing  to  the  tormenting  pain  which  he  felt 
in  his  arm ;  it  ached,  and  he  found  no  position  that  relieved  it 
Sometimes  he  closed  his  eyes,  then,  again,  he  gazed  into  the 
fire,  which  seemed  to  him  angrily  red ;  then  again  at  the  round- 
shouldered,  slender  figure  of  Tushin,  sitting  Turkish  fashion 
near  him.  Tushin's  large,  intelligent,  kindly  eyes  were  fas- 
tened upon  him  with  sympathy  and  compassion.  He  saw  that 
Tushin  with  all  his  soul  desired,  and  yet  was  totally  unable,  to 
help  him. 

()n  all  sides,  were  heard  the  steps  and  voices  of  the  infantry 
passing  by,  coming  up,  and  settling  down  around  them.  The 
sounds  of  voices,  of  steps,  and  trampling  of  horses,  stamping 
their  hoofs  in  the  mud,  the  echo  of  axes  far  and  near,  all  min- 
gled in  one  pulsating  uproai*. 

Now,  it  was  no  longer  like  a  viewless  river  rolling  onward 
through  the  darkness,  but  rather  like  a  gloomy  sea,  roaring 
and  breaking,  after  a  storm.  Rostof,  half-dazed,  looked  and 
listened  to  what  was  going  on  around  him,  and  before  him. 

A  foot  soldier  came  up  to  the  bivouac  fire,  squatted  down  on 
his  heels,  rubbed  his  hands  over  the  fire,  and  turned  bis  fact 
around. 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  236 

"Any  harm,  your  honor?"*  he  asked,  turning  to  Tushin 
with  an  inquiring  expression.  "  I^ere,  I've  lost  my  company, 
your  honor,  I  don't  know  where  it  is !     Hard  luck." 

At  the  same  time  with  the  soldier,  an  infantry  officer  with  a 
bandaged  cheek  came  to  the  fire,  and  begged  Tushin  to  order 
his  field-pieces  to  be  moved  a  trifle,  so  as  to  allow  the  baggage 
train  to  pass.  The  company  commander  was  followed  by  two 
soldiers.  They  were  quarrelling  desperately,  reviling  each  other, 
and  almost  fighting  over  a  boot. 

"  You  lie !  You  didn't  pick  it  up !  Oh  !  you  villain !  "  one 
of  them  was  crying,  in  a  hoarse  voice. 

Then  came  a  lean,  pale,  soldier,  with  his  neck  done  up  in 
blood-stained  bandages,  and,  in  an  irascible  voice,  asked  the 
artillery  men  for  a  drink  of  water. 

"  What,  must  I  die  like  a  dog  ?  "  he  grumbled. 

Tushin  ordered  the  men  to  give  hiin  a  drink.  Then  came  a 
jolly  soldier,  asking  for  some  tire  for  the  infantry. 

"  A  little  fire,  from  a  red-hot  man,  for  the  infantry  !  Good 
luck  to  you,  fellow  countrymen !  Thank  you  for  the  fire ;  we'll 
return  it  with  interest,"  said  he,  as  he-  disappeared  into  the 
darkness,  with  a  flaming  brand. 

After  this  soldier  came  four,  cariying  something  heavy 
wrapped  up  in  a  cloak,  and  went  past  the  fire.  One  of  them 
stumbled.  "  Oh,  bah !  the  devils  I  they've  been  spilling  fire- 
wood," cried  one  of  them. 

"  He's  dead  !  what's  the  use  of  lugging  him  ?  "  exclaimed 
another. 

"  Well,  I  tell  you  "  — 

And  they  vanished  in  the  darkness  with  their  burden. 

"Say,  does  it  hurt  ?  "  asked  Tushin,  in  a  whisper. 

"Yes,  it  hurts." 

"  Your  honor,  the  general  wants  you.  He's  at  tho  cottage, 
yonder,"  said  one  of  the  gunners,  coming  up  to  Tushin. 

"  In  a  moment,  my  boy."  t 

Tushin  got  up,  and  buttoning  his  cloak,  and  straightening 
himself  up,  he  left  the  fireside. 

In  a  cottage  which  had  been  made  ready  for  him,  not  far 
from  the  artillerist's  tire,  I^rince  Bagration  was  still  sitting  at 
the  dinner  table,  talking  with  a  number  of  high  officers,  who 
had  called  in  for  consultation. 

•*'JViftcAevo,  vdshe  blagorddie  /  **  JVflcViet'o,  literally  nothing,  \^  in  every 
Kuniaa*8  mouth,  and  means  everything  and  anything,  according  to  the  con* 
text. 

t  Qi>Mchik. 


236  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

There  was  the  little,  old  man,  with  half-€losed  eyes,  piteously 
gnawing  a  mutton  bone  ;  and  the  general  of  twenty-two  years' 
blameless  service,  his  face  flushed  from  his  vodka  and  his  din- 
ner ;  and  the  staff  officer  with  the  birthday  ring ;  and  Zherkof, 
uneasily  looking  at  the  others  ;  and  Prince  Andrei,  with  com- 
pressed lips  and  feverishly  shining  eyes. 

In  the  corner  of  the  cottage,  leaned  the  standard  taken  from 
the  French,  and  the  auditor,  with  his  innocent  face,  was  finger- 
ing the  stuff  of  which  the  standard  was  made,  shaking  his 
head  doubtfully,  perhai)S  because  he  was  really  interested  in  the 
standard,  and  possibly,  because  being  hungry,  it  was  haini  to 
see  the  dinner  table,  at  which  no  place  had  been  set  for  him. 

In  the  next  cottage,  was  a  captured  colonel  of  dragoons,  with 
our  officers  crowding  around  him,  with  curiosity  iu  their  eyes. 

Prince  Bagration  thanked  the  officei*s  of  the  various  divisions, 
and  made  inquiries  about  the  details  of  the  engagement,  and 
the  losses. 

The  regimental  commander,  who  liad  commanded  the  review 
at  Braunau,  explained  to  the  prince,  that  as  soon  as  tlie  action 
began,  he  had  withdrawn  from  the  woods,  collected  the  men 
engaged  in  gathering  firewood,  and,  sending  them  back,  hail 
charged  with  two  battalions,  and  simply  carried  the  French  at 
the  point  of  the  bayonet. 

"  When  I  saw  that  the  first  battalion  was  giving  way,  your 
illustriousness,  I  stood  on  the  road  and  said  to  myself,  <  I  will 
let  them  get  by  first,  and  then  order  a  running  fire,'  and  that 
was  the  way  I  did.'' 

The  regimental  commander  had  been  so  anxious  to  do  this, 
and  so  sorry  that  he  had  not  been  successful  in  doing  it,  that 
it  now  seemed  to  him  that  he  actually  had  done  so.  Indeeil, 
may  it  not  have  been  so  ?  How  Avas  it  possible  to  decide,  in 
the  general  confusion,  what  had  hapi)ened  and  whiit  ha<i  not 
happened  ? 

"  By  the  way,  I  ought  to  observe,  your  illustriousness,''  h»* 
went  on  to  say,  remembering  Dolokliof's  convei*sation  with 
Kutuzof,  and  his  last  meeting  with  the  young  man,  "that  the 
cashiered  private,  Dolokhof,  took  a  French  officer  prisoner, 
under  my  very  eyes,  and  distinguished  himself  notably." 

"  It  was  there  I  saw  the  charge  of  the  Pavlograd  hussars, 
your  illustriousness,"  remarked  Zherkof,  looking  around  uneas- 
ily, for  he  had  not  that  day  seen  a  single  hussar,  and  hiidonly 
heard  about  them  from  an  infantry  officer !  "  They  broke  two 
squares,  your  illustriousness.'' 

A  few,  hearing  Zlierkofs  words,  smiled,  l)ecause  a  joke  woii 


WAR  AND  PEACE,  237 

always  expected  from  him ;  but,  perceiving  that  what  be  said 
also  redounded  to  the  glory  of  our  arms,  and  of  the  day's  doings, 
they  grew  serious  again,  though  they  knew  very  well  that  what 
Zherkof  said  was  a  lie  without  even  a  semblance  of  founda- 
tion.   Prince  Bagration  turned  to  the  elderly  colonel. 

"  I  thank  you  all,  gentlemen ;  all  parties  have  worked  like 
heroes :  infantry,  cavalry,  and  artillery.  But  how  was  it  two 
field-pieces  were  abandoned  in  the  centre  ?  "  he  demanded,  look- 
ing round  for  some  one.  HPrince  Bagration  made  no  in- 
quiries for  the  cannon  of  the  left  wing ;  he  knew  by  this  time 
that  all  the  cannon  there  had  been  abandoned  at  the  very  be- 
ginning of  the  action.)  "  I  believe  I  asked  you  about  them  ?  " 
he  said,  turning  to  the  staff  officer  of  the  day. 

"  One  was  dismounted,"  replied  the  staff  officer  ;  "  but  the 
other— as  to  that  I  myself  cannot  understand;  I  was  there 
all  the  time  and  gave  orders  for  it  to  be  retired,  and  immedi- 
ately I  was  called  away.  It  was  hot  there,  to  be  sure,"  he 
added  modestly. 

Some  one  remarked  that  Captain  Tushin  was  right  here  in 
the  village,  and  that  he  had  already  been  sent  for. 

"  Ah,  but  you  were  there,  were  you  not  ?  "  asked  Prince 
Bagration,  of  Prince  Andrei. 

"Certainly,  we  almost  met  there,"  said  the  staff  officer,  giv- 
ing Prince  Andrei  an  affable  smile. 

"I did  not  have  the  pleasure  of  seeing  you,"  declared  Prince 
Andrei,  coolly  and  curtly.     All  were  silent. 

Tushin  now  appeared  on  the  threshold,  modestly  making  his 
way  behind  the  backs  of  the  generals.  Passing  around  tlie 
generals,  m  the  narrow  room,  and  confused,  as  always,  in  the 
presence  of  his  superiors,  Tushin  did  not  see  the  flagstaff, 
and  stumbled  over  it.     Several  laughed. 

"  How  is  it  the  guns  we«e  abandoned  ?  "  asked  Bagration, 
frowning,  but  not  so  much  at  the  captain  as  at  those  who  were 
rude  enough  to  laugh,  among  whom  Zherkof's  voice  was  dis- 
tinguished above  the  rest.  Tushin  now  for  the  first  time,  at 
the  sight  of  the  stern  commander,  realized  with  horror  his 
crime  and  disgrace  at  having  lost  two  guns,  while  he  himself 
was  left  alive. 

He  had  been  so  agitated,  that,  till  this  moment,  he  had  not 
had  time  to  think  of  this  incident.  The  laughter  of  the  offi- 
cers still  more  threw  him  off  his  balance.  He  stood  in  front  of 
Bagration  with  his  lower  jaw  trembling,  and  could  hardly  stam- 
mer,— 

"I  —  I  —  don't  know — your  illustriousness —  I  had  no 
men,  your  illustriousness" — 


238  WAR  AND  t'EACn. 

''  You  might  have  had  them  from  the  forces  that  covered 
you." 

Tushin  did  not  reply  that  there  were  not  forces  covering 
him,  though  this  would  have  heen  the  unvarnished  truth.  He 
was  afraid  he  might  compromise  some  of  his  superior  officers, 
and  so  in  silence,  with  staring  eyes,  he  gazed  into  Bagration's 
face,  as  a  schoolboy  looks  in  confusion  into  his  master's. 

A  rather  long  silence  ensued.  Prince  Bagration,  evidently 
not  wishing  to  be  too  severe,  knew  not  what  to  say  ;  the  others 
did  not  venture  to  interfere  in  the  conversation.  Prince  Andrei 
looked  askance  at  Tushin  and  his  fingers  twitched  nervously. 

"  Your  illustriousness,"  said  Prince  Andrei,  breaking  the 
silence,  in  his  clear  voice :  **  You  were  pleased  to  send  me  to 
Captain  Tushin's  battery.  I  went  there  and  found  two-thirds 
of  his  men  and  horses  disabled,  two  of  his  guns  dismounted, 
and  no  forces  to  cover  him ! " 

Prince  Bagration  and  Tushin  kept  their  eyes  fixed  on  Bol- 
konsky,  who  was  speaking  under  the  influence  of  restrained 
excitement. 

"  And  if  your  illustriousness  will  permit  me  to  express  my 
opinion,"  he  went  on  to  say,  "  we  are  indebted  more  than  all 
for  the  success  of  this  da\',  to  the  action  of  this  battery,  and 
the  heroic  steadfastness  of  Captain  Tushin  and  his  company,^ 
said  Prince  Andrei,  and  without  waiting  for  any  reply,  ne  got 
up  and  left  the  table. 

Prince  Bagration  looked  at  Tushin,  and  evidently  not  wish- 
ing to  show  any  disbelief  in  Prince  Bolkonsky's  stiff  judgment, 
and  at  the  same  time,  not  feeling  himself  prepared  to  acquiesce 
entirely  with  it,  he  inclined  his  head  and  told  Tushfci  that  he 
might  go.     Prince  Andrei  followed  him. 

"  Thank  you,  my  boy,*  you  have  saved  me,"  said  Tushin  to 
him. 

Prince  Andrei  looked  at  Tushin,  and  without  saying  any- 
thing, turned  away  from  him.  His  heart  was  heavy  and  full 
of  melancholy.  It  was  all  so  strange,  so  unlike  what  he  had 
anticipated. 

s 

"  Who  are  they  ?  Why  do  they  come  here  ?  What  do  they 
want  ?  and  when  will  all  this  end  ?  "  Rostof  asked  himself,  as 
he  gazed  at  the  shadows  which  unceasingly  passed  before  him. 
The  pain  in  his  arm  grew  worse  and  worse.  Unconquerable 
drowsiness  oppressed  him.  Ked  circles  danced  before  his  eyes, 
and  the  impression  of  these  voices  and  these  faces,  and  the 

•  Golubchik, 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  239 

sense  of  his  loneliness  mingled  with  the  sense  of  his  agony. 
These  soldiers,  wounded  and  not  wounded,  they  all  did  the 
same  thing  —  they  all  pressed  upon  him,  crushed  him,  tore  his 
muscles,  and  roasted  the  flesh  in  his  broken  arm  and  shoulder. 

To  rid  himself  of  them,  he  closed  his  eyes. 

He  lost  himself  for  one  moment,  but  during  that  brief  inter- 
val of  forgetfulness,  he  saw  in  his  dream  a  countless  collection 
of  objects.  He  saw  his  mother,  with  her  laige,  white  hand ; 
he  saw  Sonya's  thin  shoulders,  Natasha's  eyes  and  smiling 
hps,  and  Denisof,  with  his  queer  voice  and  long  mustache,  and 
Telyanin,  and  his  whole  encounter  with  Telyanin  and  Bogdan- 
uitch.  All  this  story  was  one  and  the  same  thing  with  what 
this  soldier  w^ith  the  shrill  voice  said,  and  all  this  story  and 
this  soldier  so  cruelly,  so  constantly  crushed,  twitched,  and 
pulled  his  arm  in  one  direction !  He  struggled  to  escape  from 
them,  but  they  would  not  for  a  single  second  let  go  of  his 
shoulder,  or  in  the  least  relax  their  hold.  It  would  not  have 
hurt,  it  would  have  been  all  right,  if  they  would  cease  pulling 
him ;  but  it  was  impossible  to  get  rid  of  them. 

He  opened  his  eyes  and  looked  up.  A  black  strip  of  the 
night,  an  arshin  wide,  hung  over  the  glowing  coals.  Across 
this  strip  of  light  flew  the  powdery  snow  as  it  fell.  Tushin 
did  not  return  ;  the  surgeon  had  not  come.  He  was  alone ;  a 
little  soldier  now  sat  on  the  other  side  of  the  fire,  stripped, 
and  warming  his  thin,  sallow  body. 

"Tmof  no  use  to  any  one!"  thought  Rostof.  "No  one 
helps  me  or  takes  pity  on  me !  But  if  I  were  only  at  home, 
strong,  happy,  beloved ! " 

He  sighed,  and  his  sigh  involuntarily  changed  into  a  groan. 

"At!  does  it  hurt  ?"  asked  the  little  soldier,  shaking  his 
shirt  over  the  fire,  and  without  awaiting  his  answer,  quacking 
like  a  duck,  he  added :  "  Good  many  men  knocked  to  pieces 
this  day  !  terrible  ! ''     - 

Rostof  did  not  heed  the  soldier.  He  gazed  at  the  snowflakes 
fluttering  down  into  the  fire,  and  he  recalled  what  winter  would 
^  at  home  in  Russia,  his  warm,  bright  home,  with  his  downy 
fnre,  swift  sledges,  his  strong,  healthy  body,  and  the  love  and 
care  of  his  family. 

"  And  why  did  I  come  here  ?  "  he  asked  himself. 

On  the  following  day  the  French  did  not  renew  their  attack, 
and  the  remains  of  Bagration's  division  effected  a  conjunction 
with  Kutuzof  s  army. 


PART   THIRD. 

CHAPTER  I. 

Prince  Vasili  was  not  in  the  habit  of  forecasting  his 
plans.  Still  less  did  he  ever  think  of  doing  people  harm  for 
the  sake  of  his  own  advantage.  He  was  merely  a  man  of  the 
world,  who  had  been  successful  in  the  world,  so  that  success 
had  become  a  sort  of  second  nature  to  him.  He  was  always 
accustomed  to  allow  circumstances  and  his  relations  to  other 
men  to  modify  his  various  plans  and  projects ;  but  he  rarely 
gave  himself  a  very  scrupulous  account  of  them,  though  they 
constituted  his  chief  interest  in  life.  He  managed  to  have 
several  such  plans  and  projects  on  the  docket  at  one  and  the 
same  time,  and  thus  while  a  dozen  formulated  themselves, 
some  came  to  something,  while  others  fell  through. 

He  never  said  to  himself,  for  example:  *'This  man  is  now 
in  power,  I  ought  to  gain  his  confidence  and  friendship,  and 
th(»reby  secure  myself  the  advantage  of  his  assistance;*'  or 
this :  "  Here,  Pierre  is  rich,  I  ought  to  induce  him  to  marry 
my  daughter,  and  thus  get  the  forty  thousand  rubles  that  I 
need."  But,  if  by  chance  he  met  the  man  in  power,  instinct 
immediately  whispered  to  him  that  this  man  might  be  profita- 
ble to  him,  and  Prince  Vasili  struck  up  a  friendship  with  him, 
and  at  the  first  opportunity,  led  by  instinct,  flattered  him, 
treated  him  with  easy  familiarity,  and  finally  brought  about 
the  crucial  conversation. 

Pierre  was  under  his  tutelage  at  Moscow,  and  Prince  Vasili 
procured  for  him  an  appointment  as  gentleman-in-waiting, 
which  at  that  time  conferred  the  same  rank  as  Councillor  of 
State,  and  hg  insisted  on  the  young  man  accompanying  him  to 
P(^tersburg  and  taking  up  his  residence  in  his  own  mansion. 

Without  making  any  exertion,  and  at  the  same  time  taking 
it  absolutely  for  granted  that  he  was  on  the  right  tracks  Prince 
Vasili  was  doing  all  in  his  power  to  marry  Pierre  to  his 
daughter. 

If  Prince  Vasili  had  formulated  his  plans  beforehand,  he 
could  not  have  been  so  natural  in  his  conversation,  so  simple 

240 


WAk  AKD  PEACE.  241 

and  unaffected  in  his  relations  with  all  men,  not  only  those 
aboTe  him,  but  those  who  stood  below  him.  There  was  some- 
thing that  ever  attracted  him  to  men  richer  or  more  }»«>werful 
than  himself,  and  he  was  endowed  with  the  rare  art  of  seiziug 
exactly  the  right  moment  for  profiting  by  people. 

Pierre  who  had  unexpectedly  sucoeeded  to  Count  Bezukhoi^s 
wealth  and  title,  found  himself,  after  his  late  life  of  loneliness 
and  inaction,  surrounded  and  occupied  to  such  a  degree  that 
only  when  he  was  in  bed  could  he  have  a  moment  entirely  to 
himself.  He  was  obliged  to  sign  letteis,  to  show  himself  at 
the  court-house  in  regard  to  matters  of  which  he  had  no  clear 
comprehension,  to  ask  questions  about  this  and  that,  of  his 
chief  overseer,  to  ride  out  to  his  estate  in  the  suburbs  of 
Moscow,  and  to  receive  many  people  who  hitherto  had  ignored 
his  very  existence,  but  who  would  be  offended  and  insulted  if 
he  refused  to  see  them. 

AU  these  various  individuals — business  men,  relations,  ac- 
quaintances —  were  all  with  one  accord,  disposed  to  treat  the 
young  heir  in  the  most  friendly  and  flattering  manner ;  they 
were  all  indubitabl}-  persuaded  of  Pierre's  distinguished 
merits.  He  was  constantly  hearing  such  phrases  as:  **  With 
jour  extraortlinary  goodness;''  or,  "Considering  your  kind 
heart;"  or,  "  You  are  so  upright,  count;*'  or,  "If  he  were  as 
clever  as  you  are ; "  and  so  on,  until  he  actually  began  to 
believe  in  his  extraordinary  goodness  and  his  extraordinary 
intelligence,  all  the  more  because  always,  in  the  depths  of  his 
heart,  it  had  seemed  to  him  that  he  was  really  very  good  and 
very  clever. 

Even  people  who  before  had  been  cross  to  him  and  showed 
him  undisguised  hatred,  now  became  sweet  and  affectionate 
toward  him. 

For  example,  the  sharp-tempered  elder  sister,  the  princess 
with  the  long  waist  and  the  phenomenally  smooth  hair,  like  a 
doll's,  came  into  Pierre's  room  after  the  funeral. 

Dropping  her  eyes  and  flushing  deeply,  she  assured  him  how 
^ncerely  she  regretted  the  misunderstandings  that  had  arisen 
between  them,  and  asked  him  as  a  special  favor,,  though  she 
felt  that  she  had  no  right  to  do  so,  that  she  might  be  allowed, 
after  the  blow  that  had  befallen  her,  to  remain  for  a  few  weeks 
longer  in  the  house  which  she  had  loved  so  well,  and  where 
she  had  borne  so  many  sacriflces.  She  could  not  restrain  her 
tears,  and  wept  freely  at  these  words. 

Touched  by  the  change  that  the  statuesque  princess  had 
undergone,  Pierre  took  her  by  the  hand  and  begged  her  for- 
VOL.  1.— 16. 


242  IV AH  AND  PEACE. 

giveness,  though  he  could  not  have  told  for  what.  From  that 
day  the  princess  began  to  knit  Pierre  a  striped  scar^  and 
became  entirely  different  to  him. 

"  Do  this  for  her,  my  dear  fellow,  for  she  had  much  to  put 
up  with  on  account  of  the  late  count's  whims/'  said  Prince 
Vasili,  giving  him  a  paper  to  sign  for  the  princess's  benefit. 
Prince  Vasili  had  made  up  his  mind  that  he  must  cast  this  die 
and  get  this  check  of  thirty  thousand  rubles  for  the  poor 
princess,  in  order  that  it  might  not  enter  her  head  to  talk 
about  the  part  which  he  had  taken  in  the  matter  of  the  mosaic 
portfolio. 

PieiTe  signed  the  check,  and  from  that  time  forth  the 
princess  became  still  more  affectionate  to  him.  The  younger 
sisters  also  were  very  flattering  in  their  behavior  to  him; 
especially  the  youngest  one  —  the  beauty  with  the  mole  — 
who  often  embarrassed  Pierre  with  her  smiles  and  her  own 
embarrassment  at  the  sight  of  him. 

It  seemed  to  Pierre  so  natural  that  everybody  should  like 
him,  it  seemed  to  him  so  unnatural  that  any  one  should  not 
like  him,  that  he  could  not  help  believing  in  the  sincerity  of 
those  who  surrounded  him.  In  the  first  place,  he  had  no  time 
to  question  the  sincerity  or  lack  of  sincerity.  He  had  no  time 
for  anything,  but  was  constantly  in  a  state  of  delicious  intox- 
ication, as  it  were.  He  was  conscious  that  he  was  the  centre 
of  an  important  social  mechanism,  felt  that  something  was 
constantly  expected  of  him,  that  if  he  failed  to  accomplish 
this  he  would  offend  many,  and  disappoint  their  expectations. 
But  if  he  did  this  thing  and  that,  all  would  be  well,  and  he  did 
whatever  was  asked  of  him,  and  always  imagined  that  better 
things  lay  in  store  for  him. 

During  this  first  part  of  the  time,  Prince  Vasili,  more  than 
any  one  else,  undertook  the  management  of  Pierre  and  his 
affairs.  After  Count  Bezukhoi's  death,  he  scarcely  let  Pierre 
out  of  his  sight.  Prince  Vasili  acted  like  a  man,  who  though 
overburdened  with  business,  wearied,  and  careworn,"  was  so 
filled  with  sympathy  that  he  found  it  imjJossible  to  leave  this 
hapless  young  man,  the  son  of  an  old  friend,  and  the  possessor 
of  such  an  enormous  fortune,  to  the  play  of  fate  and  the 
designs  of  knaves. 

Durii^  the  few  days  which  he  spent  in  Moscow  after  Count 
Bezukhoi's  death,  he  kept  calling  Pierre  to  him  or  going  him- 
self to  Pierre  and  instructed  him  on  his  duties  in  a  tone  of 
such  weariness  and  assurance  that  he  seemed  to  say  each  time: 
*  You  know  that  I  am  overwhelmed  with  business ;    but  it 


WAR  AND  PS  ACS.  243 

would  be  heartless  in  me  to  leave  you  now ;  and  you  know 
that  what  I  tell  you  is  the  only  thing  feasible."  * 

"Well,  ray  dear  fellow,  to-morrow  we  will  start  at  last," 
said  he  one  day,  closing  his  eyes  and  touching  Pierre's  elbow 
with  his  fingers,  while  his  voice  had  a  tone  that  seemed  to 
imply  that  this  had  long,  long  ago  been  decided  upon  and 
was  now  perfectly  beyond  question. 

"  To-morrow  we  start ;  1  will  give  you  a  place  in  my  car- 
riage. I  am  glad.  We*have  done  everything  necessary  here, 
aud  I  ought  to  have  been  at  home  long  ago.  Here's  what  I 
got  from  the  chancellor.  I  asked  him  for  it  for  you :  you  have 
a  place  in  the  diplomatic  corps,  and  are  appointed  gentleman- 
in-waiting.     The  diplomatic  career  is  now  open  to  you." 

Notwithstanding  the  tone  of  weariness  and  assurance  in 
which  these  words  were  spoken,  Pierre,  who  for  some  time 
had  been  thinking  about  his  future,  began  to  make  an  objec- 
tion. But  Prince  Vasili  interrupted  him  and  spoke  on  in  that 
low,  persuasive  tone  which  effectually  prevents  any  one  from 
hreaking  into  a  man's  discourse,  and  which  he  employed  in 
case  it  were  absolutely  necessary  to  meet  a  final  objection. 

"But,  my  dear  fellow,  I  did  this  for  my  own  sake,  to  satisfy 
my  own  conscience,  and  there  is  nothing  to  thank  me  for. 
No  one  ever  complained  of  being  too  well  loved ;  but  then 
yon  are  free ;  you  can  leave  to-morrow.  Then  you  can  see 
for  yourself  in  Petersburg.  It  is  high  time  that  you  left 
these  scenes  of  painful  recollections."  Prince  Vasili  sighed. 
"Well,  well,  my  dear.  And  let  my  valet  follow  in  your  car- 
riage. Oh,  yes,  I  had  almost  forgotten,"  added  Prince  Vasili. 
"You  know,  my  friend,  we  had  some  accounts  with  the  late 
lamented,  and  so  I  have  collected  and  kept  the  money  from 
your  Riazan  property  :  you  don't  need  it.  We  will  settle  it 
np  afterwards." 

What  Prince  Vasili  called  "  from  the  Riazan  "  property  was 
a  few  thousand  rubles  of  obrok,  or  peasant's  quit-rent,  which 
he  had  appropriated  for  his  own  use. 

In  Petersburg,  just  the  same  as  in  Moscow,  Pierre  found 
himself  surrounded  by  an  atmosphere  of  affection  and  love. 
He  could  not  decline  the  office,  or  rather  sinecure,  —  for  he 
ha<l  nothing  to  do,  —  which  Prince  Vasili  had  procured  for 
liim,  but  he  was  so  engrossed  with  acquaintances,  invitations, 

•  Foil*  gavez  queje  9uU  acabU  d*  affairei,  et  que  ce  n^est  qve  pure  charit/i 
Vttje  m*  occvpe  de  voue ;  et  puie  vou9  savez  bien  que  ceje  vou8  propose  est  la 
•eufe  cAofe  faisabU. 


244  ^AR  AND  PEACE. 

and  social  duties,  that  he  felt,  even  more  than  in  Moscow,  the 
sense  of  confusion,  hurry,  and  of  happiness  ever  beckoning 
but  never  becoming  realized. 

Many  of  the  set  of  gay  young  bachelors  with  whom  he  had 
formerly  been  intimate  were  now  absent  from  Petersburg. 
The  guard  were  away  on  the  campaign  ;  Dolokhof  was  serv- 
ing in  the  ranks ;  Anatol  had  joined  the  army,  and  had  been 
sent  into  the  province ;  Prince  Andrei  was  abroad,  and  there- 
fore Pierre  had  no  chance  to  spend  his  nights  as  he  had  once 
liked  to  do,  or  in  occasionally  engaging  in  confidential  talks 
with  some  old  and  treasured  friend.  All  his  time  was  spent 
in  dinners  and  V)alls,  and  pre-eminently  in  the  society  of 
Prince  Vasili,  the  portly  princess,  his  wife,  and  the  beautiful 
Ellen. 

Anna  Pavlovna  Scherer,  like  everybody  else,  made  Pierre 
feel  the  change  which  had  come  over  society  in  regard  to  him. 

Hitlierto,  Pierre,  in  Anna  Pavlovna's  presence,  had  con- 
stantly felt  that  whatever  he  said  was  unbecoming,  wanting 
in  tact,  unsuitable ;  that  his  speeches,  however  sensible  they 
might  seem  while  he  was  getting  them  ready  in  his  mind, 
were  idiotic  as  soon  as  he  spoke  them  aloud ;  while,  on  the 
otlicr  hand,  Ippolit's  most  stupid  utterances  were  regarded  as 
wise  and  witty.  Now,  however,  evei^thing  that  he  said  was 
greeted  with  the  ej)itliet  *  splendid.'  Even  if  Anna  Pavlovna 
(lid  not  say  this,  still  lie  was  made  to  see  that  she  meant  it, 
and  that  she  refrained  ironi  saying  it  only  out  of  regard  for 
his  modesty. 

At  the  beginning  of  the  winter  of  the  years  1805,  1806, 
Pierre  received  from  Anna  Pavlovna  the  usual  pink  note  of 
invitation,  and  with  this  postscript:  "The  beautiful  Ellen 
will  be  with  us,  whom  one  is  never  tired  of  looking  at."  * 

On  reading  this  sentence,  Pierre  for  the  first  time  realized 
that  a  peculiar  bond  had  sprung  up  between  him  and  Ellen, 
recognized  by  other  people,  and  this  thought  alarmed  him 
because  it  seemed  to  place  him  under  some  sort  of  an  obliga- 
tion which  he  could  not  fulfil,  and  at  the  same  time  it  pleased 
him  as  an  amusing  situation. 

Anna  Pavlovna's  reception  was  exactly  like  the  former  one, 
except  that  the  dessert  with  which  she  regaled  her  guests  was 
not  Montemart  as  before,  but  a  diplomat  who  had  just  arrived 
from  Berlin,  bringing  the  freshest  details  about  the  visit  of 
the  Emporor  Alexander  at  Potsdam,  and  how  the  two  most 
august  friends  had  there  sworn  an  oath  of  eternal  alliance  to 
•  Vou$  troitnrvz  rhfz  moi  la  belle  Helene  qu*  on  ne  se  la9$e  jamais  de  voir. 


r 


t' 


1 1 


"EACE,  245 

I  the  enemy  of  the  haman 

L^avlovna  with  a  shade  of  niel- 

t'lice  to  the  recent  loss  which  the 

the  death  of  Count  Hezukhoi,  — 

'  heir  duty  to  assure  Pierre  thjit  he 

s  father's  taking  off,  althou;;h  he 

have  known  him,  —  and  in  Anna 

iUcholy  was  almost  equal  to  that  lii^h 

.\liich  she  always   manifested  at   the 

august   Empress   Maria   Feodorovna. 

,iiite  overwhelmed  by  this. 

.th  her  usual  art,  arranged  the  cir<*h-s  of 

Tlie  largest,  in  which  Prince  Vasili  and 

conspicuous,  was  enjoying  the   diplomat's 

^lill   another  group   was  gathered   a)x)ut  the 

ire  was  anxious  to  join  the  former,  but  Anna 

was  in  the  exciUible  sUite  of  a  great  captain  on 

r>attle,  when  a  thousand  new  and  brilliant  ide^is 

.\\v^  almost  hopelessly  for  a  successful  accomplish- 

\iina  Pavlovna,  seeing  Pierre's  motion,  laid  her  tinger 

I  IT,  I  have  designs  on  you  for  this  evening." 
.    j^'lanced  at  Ellen,  and  gave  her  a  smile. 
My  dear  Ellen,  you  must  be  good  to  my  poor  aunt,  who 

.^  j'onceived  a  perfect  adoration  for  you.     Go  and  sjM'nd  ten 

mutes  with  her.*  And  lest  it  should  be  very  tiresome  to 
.*'>u.  here  is  our  dear  count,  who  certainly  will  not  fail  to 
follow  you/* 

The  beauty  went  over  to  ma  tante,  but  Anna  Pavlovna  de- 
tained the  young  man,  pretending  that  she  had  still  some 
indispensable  arrangement  to  complete. 

"Charming!  isn't  she?"  said  she  to  Pierre,  referring  to 
the  stately  beauty  who  was  sailing  away.  "And  so  self- 
possessed,  and  so  much  tact  for  a  young  girl,  such  wonderful 
capability  and  dignity.  It  all  comes  natural  to  h(»r.  Fortu- 
naie  will  be  the  man  who  secures  her  1  With  her  a  man,  even 
of  the  humblest  position  in  society,  could  not  fail  to  attain 
the  most  brilliant  position.  Isn't  that  so  ?  I  only  wanted  to 
know  your  opinion."     And  Anna  Pavlovna  released  Pierre. 

Pierre  had  honestly  replied  in  the  affirmative  to  her  ques- 
tion about  Ellen's  art  of  self-reliance.     Whenever  he  thought 

*  Ma  bonne  H^lene,  ilfttut  que  vous  soyez  charitable  ptnirma  ^gOMaa^Jdintf  ^ 
^  a  vne  adorati<ni  pouir  vqus,    AUez  lui  tenir  compaynie  pour 

■ 


246  ^'AR   ASD  PEACE. 

of  Ellen,  he  thought  of  her  beauty,  and  of  her  extraordinary 
ability  at  appearing  grave  and  dignified  in  society. 

Ma  tante  received  the  two  young  people  in  her  comer,  but 
it  seemed  as  though  she  were  trying  to  hide  her  adoration  for 
Ellen,  and  make  rather  a  show  of  awe  for  Anna  Pavlovna. 
She  glanced  at  her  niece  as  though  asking  how  she  should 
behave  toward  these  people.  As  Anna  Pavlovna  turned  away, 
she  again  touched  Pierre's  sleeve  with  her  finger,  and  said :  — 

"I  hoj)e  that  you  won't  say  another  time  that  you  are 
bored  at  my  house/'  ♦  and  she  glanced  at  Ellen.  Ellen  smiled 
back  with  a  look  that  seemed  to  say,  that  she  could  not  admit 
the  |>ossibility  of  any  one  seeing  her,  and  not  being  delighted. 
The  aunt  coughed,  swallowed  down  the  jihlegm,  and  sjiid  in 
French  that  she  was  very  glad  to  see  Ellen ;  then  she  turned 
to  Pierre  with  the  same  com])liment  and  the  same  look.  Ihir- 
ing  their  tedious  and  desultory  conversation,  Ellen  glanced  at 
Pierre,  and  smiled  upon  him  with  the  same  bright  and  radiant 
smile  that  she  bestowed  upon  all  people.  Pierre  was  so 
accustomed  to  this  smile,  that  it  made  little  impression  upon 
him,  and  he  gave  it  no  special  attention.  The  aunt  happened 
at  that  moment  to  be  speaking  about  a  collection  of  snuff- 
boxes, which  had  belonged  to  Pierre's  late  father,  Count 
Bezukhoi,  and  she  showed  him  her  own  snufF-box.  The  Prin- 
cess Ellen  asked  to  see  the  portrait  of  her  husband  painted  in 
miniature  on  the  cover. 

"  That  is  apparently  the  work  of  Vinnes,"  remarked  Pierre, 
mentioning  the  name  of  a  distinguished  miniature  painter. 
He  leaned  over  the  table  to  take  up  the  snuff-box,  but  all  the 
time  he  was  listening  to  the  conversation  at  the  other  table. 
He  got  up,  intending  to  pass  around;  but  the  aunt  handed 
him  the  snuff-box,  passing  it  directly  behind  Ellen.  Ellen 
moved  aside  to  give  room,  and,  as  she  looked  up  she  smiled. 
In  accordance  with  the  custom  of  the  day,  she  wore  a  dress 
cut  very  low  both  in  front  and  behind.  Her  bust,  which 
always  reminded  Pierre  of  marble,  was  so  near  to  him  tliat 
even  with  his  near-sighted  eyes  he  could  not  help  seeing  the 
exquisite  beauty  of  her  neck  and  shoulders,  and  if  he  had 
stooped  but  a  little,  his  lips  would  have  touched  her  neck. 
He  was  conscious  of  the  warmth  of  her  body,  the  faint  breath 
of  some  perfume,  and  the  rustle  of  her  corset  as  she  moved. 
He  saw  not  the  statuesque  beauty  which  agreed  so  well  with 
the  color  of  her  dress,  he  saw  and  felt  the  whole  charm  of  her 
form,  concealed  as  it  was,  only  by  her  drapery.  And  having 
*  tPetpere  que  vous  n^  4irez  plus  qu*  on  9*^nnuk  chcz  nwi. 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  247 

once  seen  this,  his  eyes  refused  to  see  her  in  any  other  way, 
just  as  it  is  impossible  for  us  to  recall  an  illusion  that  has 
once  been  explained. 

**  And  so  you  have  not  noticed  before  how  charming  I  am  ?  " 
Ellen  seemed  to  say,  "have  you  not  noticed  that  I  am  a 
woman?  Yes,  I  am  a  woman,  whom  any  man  might  win,  — 
even  you,''  her  look  seemed  to  say.  And  at  that  instant, 
Pierre  was  conscious  that  Ellen  not  only  might  be,  but  that 
she  must  be  his  wife,  that  it  could  not  be  otherwise. 

He  knew  this  at  this  instant  just  as  surely  as  he  would  have 
known  it  had  he  been  standing  with  her  under  the  bridal 
crown. 

How  would  this  be  ?  and  when  would  it  be  ? 

He  could  not  tell,  he  was  not  sure  that  it  would  be  the  best 
thing  for  him  ;  he  even  had  a  dim  consciousness  that  somehow 
it  would  not  be  for  the  best,  but  still  he  knew  that  it  would 
be.  Pierre  dropped  his  eyes,  then  raised  them  and  tried  once 
more  to  see  that  beauty  so  far  off  and  foreign  to  him,  as  it 
were,  which  he  had  seen  every  day  before ;  but  he  found  it 
impossible.  He  no  more  could  recall  his  former  thought  of 
her  than  a  man,  who  having  seen  a  blade  of  steppe  grass  in 
the  mist  and  mistaken  it  for  a  tree,  could  ever  be  deceived 
into  taking  the  blade  of  grass  for  a  tree  again.  She  was  ter- 
ribly near  to  him;  already,  she  had  begun  to  wield  her  power 
over  him.  And  between  him  and  her  there  was  no  longer  any 
impediment  except  the  impediment  of  his  own  will. 

"  Excellent !  I  leave  you  in  your  quiet  corner.  I  see  you  are 
getting  along  very  well  there,"  *  said  Anna  Pavlovna's  voice. 
And  Pierre  coming  to  his  senses  with  a  start  of  terror  lest  he 
had  been  guilty  of  something  reprehensible,  reddened  and 
glanced  around.  It  seemed  to  him  that  all  knew  as  well  as 
he  himself  did,  what  had  happened  to  him. 

After  a  little  while,  when  he  had  joined  the  large  circle, 
Anna  Pavlovna  said  to  him,  "I  hear  that  you  are  refitting 
your  Petersburg  house."  This  was  true  ;  the  architect  had  told 
him  that  it  was  needful  to  be  done,  and  Pierre,  though  he  did 
not  know  why,  allowed  the  huge  mansion  to  be  improved. 
"  That's  a  good  plan,  but  I  wouldn't  give  up  your  quarters  at 
Prince  Vasili's.  It  is  a  good  thing  to  have  a  friend  like  the 
prince,"  said  she,  smiling  at  Prince  Vjusili.  **  I  know  something 
about  it,  do  I  not  ?t     And  you  are  still  so  young.     You  need 

•  Boiifje  roits  laisK  dans  t'oire  petit  coin.    Je  roit  tnte  vovs  v  i(pn  tres  hien. 

T  On  dit  que  rovs  embellisez  voire  maisonde  Petersbourf/.  C^est  bien  ;  mai9 
Jfe  demanaffez  pas  de  chez  le  Prince  Basile.  II  est  bon  d*avoir  vn  ami  comvie 
U  prince  ^  J  Vn  sais  guelq  ue  chose,    ^*est  ce  pas  f 


248  WAR   AND  PEACE. 

some  one  to  advise  you.  You  are  not  ang^y  with  me  for  exer- 
cising the  prerogative  of  an  old  woman,  I  hope  ?  "  She  added 
this  in  Russian,  and  paused  as  women  always  pause,  expecting 
something  complimentary,  when  they  have  been  mentioning 
their  age.  "  If  you  marry,  that  would  be  a  different  thing.'' 
And  she  united  them  in  one  significant  glance.  Pierre  did  not 
look  at  Ellen,  but  she  looked  at  him.  But  all  the  time  she 
was  terribly  close  to  him.  He  stammered  something  and  red- 
dened. 

After  he  returned  home,  Pierre  was  long  unable  to  sleep, 
for  thinking  of  what  had  happened  to  him. 

What  had  happened  to  him  ? 

Nothing ! 

All  he  knew  was  that  a  woman,  whom  he  had  known  as  a 
child,  of  whom  he  had  often  heedlessly  said,  "  Yes,  she's 
pretty,"  when  he  was  told  that  Ellen  was  a  beauty,  might  be 
his. 

"  But  she  is  stupid ;  she  acknowledges  that  she  is  stupid," 
he  said  to  himself.  "  There  is  something  revolting  in  the  idea 
of  her  exciting  my  love,  —  something  repulsive.  T  have  been 
told  tliat  her  own  brother  Anatol  was  in  love  with  her,  and 
that  she  loved  him  in  return ;  that  there  was  quite  a  scandal 
about  it,  and  that  was  the  reason  why  Anatol  was  sent  away. 
Ippolit  is  her  brother.  Her  father  —  Prince  Vasili  —  it's  all 
ugly,"  he  went  on  thinking,  and  even  while  he  came  to  this 
decision,  —  such  considerations  are  endless,  — he  found  himself 
to  his  surprise  indulging  in  a  smile,  and  acknowledged  that 
another  series  of  considerations  were  arising  in  his  mind ;  that 
while  he  was  thinking  of  her  faults  he  was  at  the  same  time 
dreaming  how  she  would  \ye  his  wife,  how  she  might  be  in 
love  with  him,  how  she  might  be  quite  different,  and  how  all 
that  he  had  heard  and  thought  about  her  might  be  untrue. 
And  again  he  saw  her,  not  as  Prince  Vasili's  daughter,  but 
as  a  woman,  her  form  concealed  merely  by  her  grayish  gar- 
ment. 

"  But  no,  why  has  this  idea  never  entered  my  mind  before  ?" 
And  again  he  assured  himself  that  it  was  impossible,  that 
there  would  be  something  shameful,  contrary  to  nature,  some- 
thing, as  it  seemed,  dishonorable  to  him  in  this  marriage.  He 
recalled  her  words  and  glances,  Jind  the  words  and  glances  of 
those  who  had  seen  them  together.  He  remembered  Anna 
Pavlovna's  words  and  looks  when  she  spoke  to  him  about  his 
house ;  he  remembered  a  thousand  similar  insinuations  on  the 
part  of  Prince  Vasili  and  others,  and  a  sense  of  horror  came 


ir.4A*   AND  PEACE.  249 

OTer  him,  lest  he  hatl  bound  himself  by  the  very  undertaking 
of  such  a  project,  a  i)n)j(^ct  wliich  was  evidently  wrong,  and 
which  he  ought  not  to  have  untie rtaken.  But  at  the  very  time 
that  he  came  to  this  decision,  in  tlie  other  half  of  his  mind 
arose  her  form  in  all  its  womanly  beauty. 


CHAPTER  II. 

In  November,  1805,  Prince  Vasili  was  obliged  to  gp  to  four 
governments  on  a  tour  of  inspection.*  He  had  secured  this 
commission  for  liimself  so  as  to  visit  one  of  his  ruined  estates, 
ami  it  wjis  his  intention,  having  picked  up  his  son  Anatol, 
who  was  with  his  regiment  at  one  of  tlie  places  on  his  route, 
to  go  with  him  on  a  visit  to  Prince  Nikolai  Andreyevitdi  I>ol- 
koiisky,  so  as  to  marry  this  same  son  to  the  daughter  of  this 
wealth v  old  man. 

But  before  starting  on  this  journey  and  undertaking  these 
new  duties.  Prince  Vasili  felt  called  ujion  to  bring  IMerre's 
little  affair  to  a  crisis.  The  truth  was,  l*ierre,  during  these 
latter  days  of  his  visit  at  Prince  Vasili 's,  had  shown  himself 
absurd,  agitated,  and  moping  in  Ellen's  presence,  —  the  proper 
Condition  of  a  maii  in  love,  —  but  still  he  had  not  made  his  dec- 
laration. *'  Tout  ^'a  est  bel  et  bon,  rnais  il  fuiit  que  ^•ajinisae  — 
it  must  be  decided,''  said  Prince  Vasili  one  morning,  with  a 
melancholy  sigh,  confessing  to  himself  that  l*ierre,  considering 
wider  what  obligations  he  was  to  hijn  ("though  Christ  be  with 
him  ")  !  was  not  behaving  very  nicely  in  this  nuitter.  ^'  Youth 
—  fickleness.  Well,  God  bless  him  ! ''  said  l*rince  Vasili,  with 
a  feeling  of  satisfaction  at  his  own  benevolence;  '' mais  il 
faut  que  ^'U  Jinisse.  Day  after  to-morrow  is  Lyolina's  birth- 
day; I  will  have  a  little  pai-ty  for  her,  and  if  he  does  not 
come  up  to  the  point  in  seeing  what  his  duty  is,  then  it  will  be 
my  affair.     Yes,  my  affair.     I  am  her  father." 

A  fortnight  after  Anna  Pavlovna's  reception,  and  the  sleep- 
less, agitated  night  that  followed  it,  when  he  had  made  up  his 
mind  that  to  marry  Ellen  would  lead  to  unhappiness,  and  that 
it  was  his  duty  to  flee  from  her,  and  go  away,  Pierre,  in  spite 
of  this  decision,  was  still  at  Prince  Vasili's,  and  felt  with  a  sort 
of  horror  that  each  day  he  was  becoming,  in  the  eyes  of  the 
world,  more  and  more  attached  to  her ;  that  he  could  not  return 
to  his  former  way  of  looking  upon  her;  could  not  tear  himself 

*  Rnasia  is  divided  into  guh^mie  or  governments ;  those  again,  into  di8- 
tricta. 


250  WAR   AND  PEACE. 

from  her ;  that  it  was  abominable,  but  still  he  must  link  his  fate 
with  hers.  Perhaps  he  might  have  abstained,  but  scarcely  a 
day  passed  that  Prince  Vasili  —  who  formerly  had  so  rarely 
given  recej)tions  —  did  not  have  company,  and  Pierre  was 
obliged  to  be  present,  unless  he  were  willing  to  disturb  the 
general  contentment  and  disappoint  the  expectation  of  all. 

Prince  Vasili,  during  those  rare  moments  when  he  was  at 
home,  as  he  passed  by  Pierre,  would  draw  his  head  down,  care- 
lessly offer  him  his  shaven,  wrinkled  cheek  to  kiss,  and  say: 
"  Till  to-morrow,"  or  "  We'll  meet  at  dinner,  or  else  I  shall 
not  see  you,"  or,  "  I  stay  at  home  for  your  sake,"  or  the  like. 

But  notwithstanding  the  fact  that  Prince  Vasili,  according 
to  his  own  aofount,  stayed  at  home  for  Pierre's  sake,  he 
did  not  exchange  two  words  with  him,  and  yet,  Pierre  did 
not  feel  himself  strong  enough  to  disappoint  him.  Each 
day  he  said  to  himself  ever  the  same  thing:  "I  must  in  the 
end  understand  her  and  explain  her  —  what  is  she?  Was  I 
mistaken  in  her  before,  or  am  I  mistaken  now  ?  No,  she  is 
not  stupid.  No,  she  is  a  beautiful  girl,"  he  said  to  himself 
from  time  to  time.  Never  did  she  make  a  single  error ;  never, 
by  any  chance,  did  she  say  anything  stupid.  She  spoke  little, 
but  what  she  said  was  always  simple  and  clear.  So  she  could 
not  be  stupid.  Never  was  she  agitated  or  confused.  She  could 
not  be  a  vile  woman ! 

Often  it  chanced  that  he  began  to  discuss  with  her,  or  to 
utter  his  thoughts  in  her  hearing,  but  every  time  she  replied 
in  some  brief  but  appropriately  worded  remark,  showing  that 
she  was  not  interested,  or  else  with  a  silent  smile  and  look, 
which  more  palpably  than  anything  else  proved  to  Pierre  her 
superiority.  She  was  in  the  right,  for  she  made  it  evident  that 
all  arguments  and  reasonings  were  rubbish  in  comparison  with 
this  smile. 

She  always  treated  him  with  a  radiant,  confiding,  and  confi- 
dential smile,  which  was  meant  for  himself  alone,  as  though 
there  were  in  it  something  more  significant  than  there  was  in 
that  smile  which  she  wore  for  the  world  in  general.  Pierre 
knew  that  all  were  waiting  for  him  to  at  last  speak  the  one 
word  needful,  to  step  over  the  certain  line,  and  he  knew  that 
sooner  or  later,  he  should  cross  it ;  a  strange  and  invincible 
horror  seized  him  at  the  mere  thought  of  this  momentous  step, 
A  thousand  times  in  the  course  of  this  fortnight,  during  which 
he  felt  himself  all  the  time  drawn  deeper  and  deeper  into  the 
terrible  gulf,  he  said  to  himself :  "  What  does  it  mean  ?  What 
I  need  is  decision !     Why  do  I  lack  it  ?  " 


WAR  AND  PEACE,  251 

He  was  anxious  to  come  to  a  deoision,  but  felt  with  horror 
that,  in  this  matter,  he  was  not  displaying  the  strength  of  will 
which  he  knew  h(^  had,  and  which  he  really  had. 

Pierre  belon/  (1  to  the  number  of  those  who  are  strong  only 
when  they  havr  th*^  consciousness  of  being  pert'ootly  pure. 
Hut  ever  since  Iw  h:id  begun  to  be  overmastered  by  the  feeling 
of  sensual  desire  that  came  upon  him  at  Anna  Pavlovna's,  dur- 
ing the  scene  with  the  snuff-box,  an  undefined  sense  of  guilt 
luul  paralyzed  his  will-power. 

On  the  evening  of  Ellen's  name-day,  a  small  party  of  friends 
and  relatives,  —  "Our  nearest  and  dearest,"  as  tlie  ])rineess  ex- 
pressed it,  —  took  supper  at  Prince  Vasili's.  All  th<*se  friends 
and  relatives  wtMe  i^iven  to  imderstand.  that,  on  this  day,  the 
yoani^  lady*s  fat<*  was  to  be  decided.  The  gu(*sts  were  seati'd 
in  the  dining-r(H>]n.  The  Princess  Kurajj:ina,  a  ])ortly,  im])os- 
ing  woman,  who  had  once  been  famous  for  her  beauty,  sat  at 
the  head  of  the  table.  On  each  side  of  her  w^-re  placed  tli;- 
more  important  guests, — an  ohl  general,  his  wife,  and  Anna 
Pavlovna  Scherer ;  at  the  other  end  of  the  t;ible  were  tlu* 
younger  and  l<*ss  honored  guests ;  and  there,  also,  sat  the  var- 
ious members  of  the  household  —  Pierre  and  Ellen  side  by 
side. 

Prince  Vasili  did  not  sit  down  witli  the  r(\st ;  he  walked 
around  the  table,  in  a  jocund  mood,  stopping  to  ehat  now  with 
one,  now  with  another  of  his  guests^  speaking  some  light  and 
plea.<iant  word  to  all,  except  Pierre  and  Ellen,  whose  presence 
he  seemed  entirely  to  ignore. 

Prince  Vasili  was  the  very  life  of  the  company. 

The  wax  candles  burned  brightly,  the  silvtu*  and  cut  glass 
gleamed,  the  jewels  of  the  ladies,  and  the  gohl  ;in<l  silver  epau- 
lets of  the  officers  glistened.  The  clatter  of  kniv(\s  and  plates 
and  glasses,  and  the  hum  of  lively  conversation  was  heard 
around  the  table.  An  aged  chamberlain,  at  oiw  end,  wiis  heard 
assuring  an  aged  baroness  of  his  ]>assionate  lov(»  for  her,  while 
her  laugh  in  reply  rang  out.  At  the  other  end,  some  one  was 
telling  of  the  misfortune  that  had  befallen  a  certain  Afarya 
Viktorovna.  Near  the  centre  of  the  table.  Prince  Vasili  was 
standing,  with  a  little  circle  of  auditors,  while  h.'  1  old  the  ladies, 
with  a  facetious  smile  on  his  face,  of  the  last  meeting,  on 
Wednesday,  of  the  Imperial  Council,  at  which  Sergyei  Kuz- 
mitch  Vyazmitinof,  the  new  military  g()V(a-nor-gen(u-al  (»! 
Petersburg,  received  and  read  the  then  famous  res(*ript  ad- 
dressed to  hiin  from  the  army  headquarters,  by  the  Emperor 
Alexander  Pavlovitch. 


252  WAR  A\D  PEACE. 

The  emperor  declared  that  he  was  receiving  from  all  sides 
proofs  of  the  devotion  of  the  people,  and  that  the  demonstrar 
tion  of  Petersburg  was  particularly  delightful  to  him,  that  he 
was  proud  of  being  the  head  of  such  a  nation,  and  would  do 
all  in  his  power  to  prove  himself  worthy  of  the  honor.  This 
rescript  began  with  these  words :  "  Sergyei  Kuzmitch  :  From 
all  sidesy  reports  reach  we,"  — 

"  And  so  he  could  not  get  further  than  *  Sergyei  Kuzmitch '  ?  " 
asked  a  lady. 

"  No,  not  a  hair's  breadth,"  replied  Prince  Vasili,  laughing, 
"  *  Sergyei  Kuzmitch :  from  all  sides —  Sergyei  Kuzmitch!  from 
all  sides.'  Poor  Vyazmitinof  could  not  get  any  further.  Sev- 
eral times  he  began  the  letter  over  again74)ut  could  only  say, 
*  Sergyei/  —  then  sobs,  —  *  Ku  —  zmi  —  tch,'  —  tears,  arid  then 
the  words,  —  ^from  all  sides '  were  drowned  in  sobs,  and  he 
could  not  get  any  further.  And  again  his  handkerchief,  and 
again,  ^  Sergyei  Kuzmitch,  from  all  sides '  and  more  tears,  until 
at  last  he  had  to  get  some  one  else  to  read  it  for  him." 

"  *  Kuzmitch  —  from  all  sides '  —  and  tears,"  repeated  some 
one  with  a  laugh. 

"Don't  be  naughty,"  exclaimed  Anna  Pavlovna,  from  the 
other  end  of  the  table,  and  raising  her  finger  threateningly, 
"Our  good  Viazmitinof  is  such  a  dear,  excellent  man."* 

This  greatly  amused  the  company.  At  the  upper  end  of  the 
table  where  sat  the  honorary  guests,  all  were  apparently  in 
jovial  spirits,  and  under  the  influence  of  the  most  varied  and 
lively  emotions ;  but  Pierre  and  Ellen  sat  silent,  side  by  side, 
at  the  lower  end  of  the  table ;  on  the  faces  of  each  hovered  a 
radiant  smile,  not  evoked  by  the  story  about  Sergyei  Kuzmitch, 
but  rather  a  smile  of  bashfulness  at  their  own  thoughts.  The 
others  might  chatter  and  laugh  and  jest,  they  might  with 
good  appetite  enjoy  the  Rhine  wine  and  the  saute  and  the  ice 
creams,  they  might  let  their  eyes  avoid  resting  on  that  couple^ 
they  might  seem  to  be  quite  indifferent  and  even  to  ignore 
their  existence ;  nevertheless,  there  was  something  in  the  very 
atmosphere  that  made  it  evident  by  the  furtive  glg^nces  bent  upon 
them,  that  the  anecdote  about  Sergyei  Kuzmitch  and  the  laugh 
that  it  evoked,  and  the  dinner  and  everything  were  but  merely 
pretence ;  and  that  the  energies  of  the  whole  company  were,  in 
reality,  devoted  to  this  young  couple,  Pierre  and  Ellen,  even 
while  Prince  Vasili  was  imitating  the  lacrymose  Sergyei  Kuz- 
mitch. All  the  time  his  glance  sought  his  daughter,  and  even 
when  he  was  laughing  his  heartiest,  the  expression  of  his  face 
•  (Test  un  si  brave  et  excellent  homme,  notre  bon  Viamtitinoff. 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  253 

seemed  to  say:  "Yes,  yes*;  it  is  going  all  right;  it  will  be 
decided  this  evening." 

Anna  Pavlovna  when  she  threatened  him  with  notre  bon 
Viasmitinoff,  let  Prince  Vasili  read  in  her  eyes  as  they  flashed 
for  a  moment  in  Pierre's  direction,  a  congratulation  for  his 
daughter's  coming  marriage  and  good  fortune. 

The  old  princess,  as  she  offered  a  glass  of  wine  to  her  neigh- 
bor with  a  melancholy  sigh,  and  glanced  gravely  toward  her 
daughter,  seemed  to  say  by  this  sigh :  "  Yes,  my  dear,  now 
there  is  nothing  left  for  us  but  to  sip  sweet  wine ;  now  it  is 
the  young  people's  turn  to  be  so  insolently,  defiantly  happy. 

"  And  what  melancholy  rubbish,  all  that  I  have  to  say  is ! 
As  though  it  meant  anything!"  thought  the  old  diplomat,  as 
he  gazed  at  the  happy  faces  of  the  lovers:  "yonder  is  true 
happiness ! " 

Amid  these  mean,  petty  and  artificial  interests  uniting  this 
company,  there  arose  the  natural  feeling  of  attraction  felt  for 
each  other  by  a  handsome  and  healthful  young  man  and 
woman.*  And  this  human  feeling  put  to  naught  and  soared 
above  all  their  artifical  babble.  The  jests  were  not  amusing, 
the  news  was  not  interesting,  the  liveliness  was  only  counter- 
feited. Not  only  they,  but  also  the  servants,  waiting  on  the 
table,  seemed  to  feel  the  same  thing,  and  forget  the  proprieties 
of  the  service,  as  they  gazed  on  beautiful  Ellen,  with  her 
radiant  face,  and  on  Pierre's  comely,  stout  face,  so  happy  and 
so  uneasy.  It  even  seemed  as  if  the  light  from  the  candles 
were  all  concentrated  on  these  two  happy  faces.  Pierre  was 
conscious  that  he  was  the  centre  of  everything,  and  this  posi- 
tion both  pleased  him  and  made  him  uncomfortable.  He 
found  himself  in  the  position  of  a  man  plunged  in  some  sort 
of  absorbing  occupation.  He  saw  nothing,  heard  nothing, 
understood  nothing  clearly.  Only  occasionally,  through  his 
consciousness  flashed  fragmentary  thoughts  and  expressions 
of  the  realitjr.  ^ 

"And  so  it  is  all  over,^he  said  to  himself.  "How  in  the 
world  did  it  ever  happen  ?  It  was  so  sudden !  Kow  I  know 
that  not  for  her  sake  alone,  nor  for  my  own  sake  alone,  but 
for  the  sake  of  all,  this  must  be  accomplished  without  fail. 
They  all  expect  this  so  confidently ;  they  are  so  certain 
that  it  will  take  place,  that  I  cannot,  I  cannot  disappoint 
them.  But  how  will  it  take  place  ?  I  know  not ;  but  it  will 
H  it  infallibly  must  be!"  thought  Pierre,  as  he  glanced  at 
those  shoulders  gleaming  so  near  him. 

Then  suddenly  a  feeling  of  humiliation   mingled  in  his 


254  ^VAR  AND  PEACE, 

thoughts.  He  felt  embarrassed  to  be  the  object  of  general 
attention,  to  be  "  a  lucky  man  • '  in  the  eyes  of  all  others,  to  be 
another,  though  homely  Paris,  possessing  his  Helen  of  Troy. 

^'  But,  to  be  sure  this  has  always  been,  and  tlierefore  it  must 
be  so,"  he  said,  trying  to  comfort  himself.  "And,  besides, 
what  have  I  done  to  bring  it  about  ?  When  did  it  begin  ?  I 
came  from  Moscow  w^ith  Prince  Yiisili.  There  was  certainly 
nothing  in  that.  Then  what  harm  w^as  there  in  my  staying  at 
liis  house  ?  And  so  1  played  cards  with  her,  and  picked  up 
her  reticule,  and  went  to  drive  with  her.  When  did  it  begin, 
when  did  it  all  begin  ?  " 

And  now  here  he  is  sitting  by  her  in  the  quality  of  accepted 
suitor,  hearing,  seeing,  feeling  her  presence,  her  breathing,  her 
every  motion,  her  beauty.  Then  suddenly  it  seemed  to  him 
that  it  was  not  she  who  was  the  beauty,  but  he  himself,  and  to 
such  an  extraordinary  degree  tliat  all  had  to  look  at  him,  and 
that  he,  delighting  in  this  universal  admiration,  swelled  out 
his  chest,  raised  his  hea<l  high,  and  rejoiced  in  his  own  happi- 
ness. Suddenly  he  heard  a  voice,  a  well-known  voice,  speaking 
and  saying  something  for  the  second  time.  But  Pierre  was  so 
absorbed,  that  he  did  not  comprehend  what  was  said  to  him. 

"  I  asked  you  when  you  heard  hist  from  Bolkonsky,"  said 
Prince  Vasili  for  the  third  time.  *'  llow  absent-minded  you 
are,  my  dear  fellow  ! " 

Prince  Vasili  smiled.  And  Pierre  saw  that  all,  all  were 
smiling  at  him  and  at  Ellen.  "Well,  suppose  you  all  do 
know  ! "  said  Pierre  to  himself.  "  What  then  ?  It  is  true,'' 
and  he  himself  smiled  his  sweet,  childlike  smile,  and  Ellen 
also  smiled. 

"  When  did  you  get  the  letter  ?  Was  it  from  Olmiitz  ?"  re- 
peated Prince  Vasili,  who  pretended  that  he  wished  to  know 
in  order  to  decide  a  disi)ute. 

"How  can  one  talk  and  think  about  such  trifles?"  was 
Pierre's  mental  exclamation.  "Yes,  from  Olmiitz,"  he  re- 
l)lied,  with  a  sigh.  ♦ 

After  supper  Pierre  gave  his  arm  to  Ellen,  and  led  her  to 
the  drawing-room  in  the  wake  of  the  others.  The  guests 
began  to  disj)erse,  and  some  w'ent  away  without  bidding  Ellen 
farewell.  Others,  as  though  unwilling  to  tear  her  away  from 
serious  concerns,  went  up  to  her  for  a  minute  and  then  hur- 
ried away,  without  allowing  lier  to  accompany  them  to  the 
door.  The  dii^lomat  preserved  a  mournful  silence  as  he  left 
the  drawing-room.  The  utter  futility  of  his  diplomatic  career 
presented  itself  in  comparison  with  Pierre's  good   fortune. 


WAR  AND  PEACE,  255 

The  old  general  growled  out  a  surly  reply  to  his  wife  when 
she  asked  him  about  the  gout  in  his  foot.  '^Eka!  the  old 
fool!"  he  said  to  himself,  "Here's  Elena  Vasilyevna;  and 
shell  be  just  as  much  of  a  beauty  at  fifty  I '' 

"It  seems  as  though  I  might  congratulate  you,"  said  Anna 
Pavlovna  in  a  whisper  to  the  old  princess,  and  gave  her  a 
resoimding  kiss.  "  If  I  hadn't  a  sick  headache,  I  would  stay 
a  little  longer." 

The  princess  made  no  answer ;  she  was  tormented  by  jeal- 
ousy at  her  daughter's  good  fortune. 

While  the  guests  were  taking  their  departure,  Pierre  was 
left  for  some  time  alone  with  Ellen  in  the  little  sitting-room 
where  they  often  sat.  During  the  past  fortnight,  he  had  been 
often  alone  with  Ellen,  but  he  had  never  said  a  word  to  her 
ahottt  love.  Now  he  felt  that  this  was  indispensable,  but  still 
he  found  it  impossible  to  make  up  his  mind  to  undertake  this 
last  step.  He  felt  abashed  ;•  it  seemed  that  here  in  Ellen's 
presence  he  occupied  a  place  that  belonged  to  some  one  else. 
"Not  for  thee  is  this  good  fortune,"  some  internal  voice 
seemed  to  whisper,  "This  happiness  is  for  those  who  have 
not  what  thou  hast." 

But  it  was  essential  to  S£Cy  something,  and  he  tried  to  talk. 
He  asked  her  if  she  had  enjoyed  the  evening.  She  rei)litnl 
vith  her  usual  simplicity,  that  this  name-day  had  been  one  of 
the  pleasant  events  of  her  life. 

One  or  two  of  the  nearest  relatives  still  remained.  They 
were  gathered  in  the  great  drawing-room.  Prince  Vasili  with 
leisurely  steps  came  to  Pierre.  Pierre  got  up  and  remarked 
that  it  was  already  late.  Prince  Vasili  looked  at  him  with  a 
gravely  questioning  face,  as  much  as  to  imply  that  what  he 
said  was  too  strange  to  be  heard.  But  instantly  this  expres- 
sion of  sternness  vanished,  and  Prince  Vasili  laid  his  hand  on 
Pierre's  sleeve,  made  him  sit  down  again,  and  gave  him  a  ilat- 
tering  smile.  "  Well,  Lyolya,"  he  asked,  turning  instantly  to 
his  daughter,  in  that  easy-going  tone  of  habitual  affection 
peculiar  to  parents  who  have  lived  on  terms  of  especial  affec- 
tion with  their  children  ever  since  their  childhood,  but  which 
in  Prince  Vasili's  case  had  been  acquired  only  through  hav- 
ing observed  other  parents.  And  then  he  turned  again  to 
Pierre:  "  Sergyei  Kuzmitchy  from  all  sidesy^  he  repeated,  ner- 
vously unbuttoning  the  upper  button  of  his  waistcoat. 

Pierre  smiled,  but  his  smile  made  it  evident  how  well  he 
understood  that  Prince  Vasili  was  not  interested  now  in  this 
anecdote  about  Sergyei  Kuzmitch, .  and  Prince  Vasili  under- 


256  l^AR  AXD  PEACE. 

stood  that  Pierre  understood  this.  Prince  Vasili  suddenly 
muttered  some  excuse  and  left  the  room.  It  seemed  to  Pierre 
that  even  Prince  Vasili  was  embarrassed.  The  appearance  of 
embarrassment  in  this  old  society  man  deeply  affected  Pierre. 
He  glanced  at  Ellen,  and  she,  it  seemed,  was  also  embarrassed, 
and  her  glau'.'e  said :  "  Well,  it  is  all  your  fault !  " 

"  It  is  absolutely  indispensable  for  me  to  take  this  step,  bat 
I  cannot,  I  ciinnot  I "  said  Pierre  to  himself,  and  once  more  lie 
l)egan  to  talk  about  irrelevant  things,  about  "  Sergyei  Kuz- 
mitch,"  asking  what  was  the  point  of  this  anecdote,  as  he  had 
not  caught  it.  Ellen  with  a  smile  confessed  that  she  also 
knew  nothing  about  it. 

When  Prince  Vasili  returned  to  the  drawing-room,  the  jain- 
cess  was  engaged  in  talking  in  low  tones  with  an  elderly  lady 
about  Pierre.  "Of  course  it  is  a  very  brilliant  match,  but 
happiness,  my  dear,"  ♦  said  sh^,  in  the  usual  mixture  of 
French  and  Eussian. 

"Marriages  are  made  in  heaven  —  Ips  mariages  sefont  dons 
les  cieux/^  returned  the  old  lady.  Prince  Vasili,  pretending 
not  to  hear  what  she  said,  went  |p  the  farthest  table  and  sat 
down  on  the  sofa.  He  closed  his  eyes  and  appeared  to  be  doz- 
ing. His  head  sank  forward  and  then  he  woke  with  a  strait. 
"  Alina,"  said  he  to  his  wife,  "  go  and  see  what  they  are  doing."' 
The  princess  went  to  the  door,  passed  by  it  with  a  signifi- 
cant but  indifferent  look,  and  glanced  in.  Pierre  and  Ellen 
were  still  sitting  and  talking. 

"Just  the  same,"  she  said,  in  reply  to  her  husband.  Prince 
Vasili  scowled,  and  screwed  his  mouth  to  one  side,  and  his 
cheeks  began  to  twitch  with  that  unpleasant  coarse  expression 
so  characteristic  of  him;  then  with  a  sudden  impulse  he 
sprang  to  his  feet,  threw  his  head  back,  and  with  decid^^d 
steps,  strode  past  the  ladies  into  the  little  sitting-room. 
iSwiftly,  and  with  a  great  assumption  oT  delight  he  went 
straight  up  to  Pierre.  His  face  was  so  unusually  triumphant 
that  Pierre,  in  seeing  him,  rose  to  his  feet  in  dismay. 

"  Slava  Bohu  !  glory  to  God ! "  he  cried,  "  my  wife  has  told  me 
all."  He  threw  one  ai-m  round  Pierre,  the  other  round  his 
daughter.  "  My  dear  boy  !  Lyolya !  I  am  very,  very  glad/* 
his  voice  trembled.  "I  loved  your  father — and  she  will 
mak<^  you  a  good  wife  —  God  bless  you."  He  embraced  his 
daughter,  then  Pierre  again,  and  kissed  him  with  his  malodo- 
rous mouth.  Tears  actually  moistened  his  cheeks.  "Prin- 
cess, come  here  !  "  he  cried. 

•  C*€8t  un  parti  tres  brilhint,  mais  le  bonheur,  ma  chere. 


WAR  AND  PEACE,  257 

The  princess  came  and  wept.  The  elderly  lady  also  wiped 
her  eyes  with  her  handkerchief.  They  kissed  Pierre,  and  he 
kissed  the  lovely  Ellen's  hand  several  times.  After  a  little 
they  were  left  alone  again. 

"  All  this  had  to  be  so,  and  could  not  be  otherwise,"  thought 
Pierre,  "and  there  is  no  need  to  ask  if  it  be  good  or  evil. 
Good  at  least  in  that  it  is  decided,  and  I  am  no  longer 
tortured  by  sus|)ense."  Pierre  silently  held  the  hand  of  his 
betrothed,  and  looked  at  her  fair  bosom  as  it  rose  and  fell. 

"  Ellen ! "  said  he  aloud,  and  then  paused.  He  was  aware 
that  something  of  this  sort  must  be  said  und^  such  circum- 
stances, but  he  could  not  for  tlie  life  of  him  remember  what 
was  the  proper  thing  to  say.  He  looked  into  her  face,  she 
came  nearer  to  him.     Her  face  grew  a  deep  crimson. 

"  Akh  !  take  them  off.  How  they  "  —  she  pointed  to  his 
gl:  ss  ?s. 

Pierre  took  them  off,  and  his  eyes  had  a  scared  and  entreat- 
ing look  in  addition  to  that  strange  expression  which  people's 
eyes  assume  when  they  remove  their  glasses  suddenly.  He 
was  about  to  bend  over  her  hand,  and  kiss  it,  but  she  with  a 
quick  and  abrupt  motion  of  her  head  intercepted  the  motion, 
and  pressed  her  lips  to  his.  Her  face  disturbed  Pierre  by 
its  changed  and  unpleasantly  passionate  expression. 

"Now  it  is  too  late,  it  is  all  decided;  yes,  and  I  love  her," 
thoui^ht  Pierre. 

"r/p  vous  aime,^^  he  said,  at  last  remembering  what  was 
necessary  in  these  circumstances ;  but  these  words  sounded  so 
meagre  that  he  was  ashamed  of  himself. 

At  the  end  of  a  fortnight  he  was  married,  the  fortunate 
possessor,  as  they  say,  of  a  beautiful  wife  and  of  millions, 
and  settled  in  the  enormous  I'etersburg  mansion  of  the  Counts 
Bezukhoi,  newly  refitted  for  them. 


CHAPTER  III. 

The  old  Prince  Nikolai  Andreitch  Bolkonsky  in  December, 
I8O0,  received  a  letter  from  Prince  Vasili,  announcing  his 
coming  with  his  son  on  a  visit.  "  I  am  making  a  tour  of 
ins|K?(*tion,  and  of  course  the  hundred  versts  distance  acros.-. 
the  country  shall  not  keep  me  from  coming  to  see  you,  ven- 
erated benefactor,"  he  wrote,  "  and  my  Anatol  accompanies 
me;  he  is  on  his  way  to  the  army,  and  I  hope  you  will  permit 
VOL,  I.—  i7. 


258 


n^AJi  AND  PEACE, 


him  to  show  jou  the  deep  respect  which  he,  in  emulation  of  hii 
father,  haa  conceived  for  jou." 

"  Well,  there's  no  need  of  bringing  Marie  out,  if  suitors 
come  to  us  of  their  own  accord,"  said  the  little  princess  indis- 
creetly, when  this  was  mentioned  to  her.  Prince  ^Nikolai 
Andreitch  frowned,  and  made  no  reply.  Two  weeks  after  the 
receipt  of  the  letter,  Prince  Vasili's  servants  made  their  appear- 
ance in  advance  of  him,  and  on  the  next  day,  he  and  his  son 
arrived. 

The  old  Prince  Bolkonsky  had  a  low  opinion  of  Prince 
Vasili's  character,  and  this  had  been  intensified  of  late  by  the 
great  advances  which  he  had  made  in  rank  and  honors  under 
the  Emperors  Paul  and  Alexander.  Now  especially,  from  the 
letter,  and  the  insinuations  made  by  the  little  princess,  he 
saw  what  was  in  the  wind,  and  his  low  opinion  of  Prince 
Vasili  was  transmuted  in  his  heart  into  a  feeling  of  really 
malevolent  contempt.  He  snorted  whenever  he  mentioned 
his  name.  On  the  day  that  Prince  Vasili  was  expected.  Prince 
Nikolai  Andreitch  was  especially  surly,  and  out  of  sorts. 
Whether  he  were  out  of  sorts  because  Prince  Vasili  was  com- 
inir,  or  whether  ho  was  dissatisfied  with  Prince  Vasili's  visit 
Wcause  he  was  out  of  sorts,  it  did  not  alter  the  fact  that  he 
was  out  of  sorts,  and  Tikhon  early  in  the  morning  advised 
the  ai'chitect  not  to  come  near  the  prince  unless  he  was 
summoned. 

"  Listen !  Hear  him  walking  up  and  down,"  remarked  Tik- 
hon, calling  the  architect's  attention  to  the  sounds  of  the 
l)riiKe's  tramp.  " He  stamps  his  heels,  and  we  all  know  what 
that  means."  However,  at  the  usual  hour  of  nine  o'clock,  the 
j)rince  came  out  for  his  morning  w^alk,  dressed  in  his  velvet 
shubka  with  its  sable  collar,  and  in  a  cap  of  the  same  fur. 
The  night  before  there  had  been  a  snowstorm.  The  path 
along  which  the  prince  walked  to  the  orangery  had  been 
swe])t ;  traces  of  the  broom  were  still  to  be  seen  on  the  snow, 
and  the  shovel  was  driven  into  a  light  embankment  of  snow, 
heaped  high  on  both  sides  of  the  path.  The  prince  went  the 
round  of  the  greenhouses,  the  yard,  and  the  various  buildings, 
frowning  and  silent. 

"  Can  sleighs  come  up,"  he  asked  of  his  overseer,  a  man 
who  was  his  image  in  face  and  actions,  and  was  accompanying 
him  with  groat  deference  back  to  the  house. 

"  The  snow  is  deep,  your  illustriousness,  I  have  already  given 
ordors  to  have  the  snow  shovelled  away  from  the  preshpektJ' 
Tlio  prince  bent  his  heati,  and  started  to  go  up  the  steps. 


WAR  AND  PEACE. 


259 


"  Glory  to  thee,  oh  Lord,"  was  the  orerseer^s  mental  exclama- 
tion, "  the  cloud  has  past." 

*'  It  was  hard  to  approach,  your  illustriousness,"  added  the 
superintendent,  "when  I  heard,  your  illustriousness,  that 
your  illustriousness  was  expecting  a  minister  "  —  The  prince 
turned  round  toward  his  overseer,  and  fastened  his  gloomy 
eyes  upon  him. 

".  What  ?  A  minister.  What  minister  ?  Who  commanded 
you  ?  "  he  exclaimed,  in  his  shrill,  harsh  voice.  "  The  road  is 
cleared,  not  for  the  princess,  my  daughter,  but  for  a  minister ! 
We  have  no  ministers  at  my  house  " 

"  Your  illustriousness,  I  supposed  "  — 

*'You  supposed,"  screamed  the  prince,  uttering  the  words 
more  and  more  hastily  and  incoherently.  "  You  supposed  — 
cut-tliroats,  blackguards !  —  I  will  teach  ye  to  suppose,"  and 
raising  his  cane,  flourished  it  over  Alpatuitch,  and  would  have 
struck  him  had  not  the  overseer  instinctively  dodged  the 
blow.  **  You  supposed  —  blackguard ! "  screamed  the  prince, 
but  notwithstanding  the  fact  that  Alpatuitch,  alarmed  at  his 
audacity  in  avoiding  the  blow,  hastened  up  to  the  prince,  and 
humbly  bent  before  him  his  bald  pate,  or  possibly  for  this 
very  reason,  the  prince  continued  to  scream  "  Blackguards ! 
have  the  road  shovelled  back  again,"  but  did  not  raise  the 
cane  a  second  time,  and  hastened  into  his  room. 

The  Princess  Marie  and  Mile.  Bourienne,  knowing  that  he 
was  in  a  bad  humor,  stood  waiting  for  him  to  come  to  dinner. 
Mile.  Bourienne  with  a  beaming  face,  which  said,  "Oh!  I 
know  nothing  about  it;  as  for  me,  I  am  always  the  same." 
And  the  princess  pale  and  scared  with  downcast  eyes.  Hard- 
est of  all  was  it  for  the  Princess  Marie  to  know  that  in  these 
circumstances  she  ought  to  imitate  Mile.  Bourienne,  but  she 
could  not  do  so.  It  seemed  to  hor,  "If  I  should  pretend  not 
to  pay  any  attention,  he  would  think  tliat  I  had  no  sympathy 
for  him ;  and  if  I  show  him  that  I  am  melancholy  and  out  of 
sorts  myself,  he  will  say  (as  he  always  does),  that  Vm  in  the 
blues." 

The  prince  looked  at  his  daughter's  scared  face  and  snorted. 

"Goo  —  or  fool!"^he  muttered.  "And  the  other  one  not 
here  ?  Can  they  have  been  tattling  to  her  ?  "  he  wondered, 
when  he  saw  that  the  little  princess  was  not  in  the  dining- 
room. 

"Where  is  the  princess?"  he  asked.  "Is  she  hiding  her- 
self ?  " 

"She  is  not  feeling  very  well,"  said  Mile.  Bourienne,  with  a 


260  ^'AR  AND  PEACE. 

radiant  smile^  "  she  won't  come  down.  That  is  natural  in  her 
condition." 

1*  Hm  !  Hm  !  kh  !  kh !  "  grumbled  the  prince,  and  took  his 
seat  at  the  table.  His  plate  seemed  to  him  not  quite  clean ; 
he  pointed  to  a  spot,  and  fliing  it  away.  Tikhon  caught  it  and 
handed  it  to  the  butler. 

The  little  princess  was  not  ill,  but  she  was  so  invincibly 
afraid  of  the  old  prince  that  when  she  learned  that  he  was-  in 
a  bad  humor  she  resolved  not  to  leave  her  room.  "  I  am 
afraid  for  my  baby,"  said  she  to  Mile.  Bourienne ;  "  God 
knows  what  might  happen  if  I  were  frightened." 

The  little  princess  lived  at  Luisiya  Gorui,  the  most  of  the 
time,  with  a  sense  of  fear  and  antipathy  for  her  father-in-law, 
whom  she  did  not  undei-stand  because  her  terror  so  overmas- 
tered her  that  she  could  not.  The  prince  reciprocated  this 
antipathy  for  his  daughter-in-law,  but  it  was  not  so  strong  as 
his  contempt  for  her.  The  princess,  since  her  residence  at 
Luisiya  Goinii,  had  taken  a  special  fancy  to  Mile.  Bourienne, 
spent  whole  days  with  her,  often  begged  her  to  sleep  with 
her,  and  talked  about  the  old  prince  with  her  and  criticised 
him. 

"  So  some  visitors  are  coming  to  see  us,  prince,"  said  ^Clle. 
Bourienne,  as  she  unfolded  her  white  napkin  with  her  rosy 
fingers.  "His  excellency.  Prince  Kuragin,  I  understand?"* 
she  said,  with  a  questioning  inflexion. 

"  Hm  —  this  'excellency,'  as  you  call  him,  is  a  puppy.  I  got 
him  appointed  to  the  college,"  said  the  prince  disdainfully, 
"  but  why  his  son  is  coming  is  more  than  I  know.  The  Prin- 
cess Lizavieta  Karlovna  and  the  Princess  Mariya,  possibly, 
they  know,  but  I  don't  know  what  he's  bringing  his  son  here 
for ;  I  don't  want  him."  And  he  looked  at  his  blushing  daugh- 
ter. "So  she  isn't  very  well  to-day  ?  From  fear  of  the  'min- 
ister,' I  suppose,  as  that  blockhead  of  an  Alpatuitch  called 
him  to-day." 

"  No,  7no7i  pere  /  " 

Though  Mile.  Bourienne  had  been  particularly  unfortunate 
in  her  choice  of  a  subject  of  conversation,  she  was  not  at  all 
put  out  of  countenance,  but  rattled  on  about  the  greenhouses, 
and  about  the  beauty  of  some  new  flower  that  had  just  blos- 
somed, and  the  prince,  after  his  soup,  melted  and  became  more 
genial. 

After  dinner  he  went  to  see  his  daughter-in  law.     The  little 

*  H  noiis  arrive  dv.  monde ;  son  excellence  le  Prince  Koxirayttine,  a  ce  dej'ai 
entendu  dire. 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  261 

princess  was  sitting  by  a  stand  and  chatting  with  Masha,  her 
maid.  She  turned  pale  at  the  sight  of  her  father-in-law.  The 
httle  princess  had  very  much  altered.  One  would  now  much 
sooner  call  her  ugly  than  pretty.  Her  cheeks  were  sunken, 
her  lip  was  raised,  her  eyes  had  a  drawn  look. 

"  Yes,  a  little  headache,"  she  replied  to  the  prince's  ques- 
tion how  she  felt. 

"  Do  you  need  anything  ?  " 

"^Vn,  m&rei,  mon  pere" 

"Well,  then,  very  good,  very  good." 

He  left  the  room  and  went  to  the  ofl&ce.  Alpatuitch,  with 
drooping  head,  was  waiting  for  him  there. 

"  Is  the  snow  shovelled  back  ?  " 

"  It  is,  your  illustriousness  ;  forgive  me,  for  God's  sake,  this 
one  piece  of  stupidity. 

The  prince  internipted  him  and  smiled  his  unnatural 
smile.  '^  Well,  then,  very  good,  very  good."  He  stretched 
oat  his  hand  for  Alpatuitch  to  kiss,  and  then  he  went  to  his 
cabinet. 

Prince  Vasili  arrived  in  the  evening.  He  was  met  on  the 
preskpekt  (as  they  called  the  prospekt  or  high  road)  by  the 
coachmen  and  stable  hands,  who  with  loud  shouts  dragged 
his  covered  vozok  and  sledge  up  to  the  entrance,  over  snow 
which  had  been  purposely  heaped  upon  the  driveway. 
Separate  chambers  had  been  prepared  for  Prince  Vasili  and 
Anatol. 

Anatol,  in  his  shirt-sleeves,  and  with  his  arms  akimbo,  was 
sitting  before  a  table  on  one  corner  of  which  he  stared  absent- 
mindedly  with  his  large  handsome  eyes,  while  a  smile  played 
over  his  lips.  He  looked  upon  his  life  as  one  unbroken  round 
of  gayety  which  it  was  fated  should  be  prepared  for  his  amuse- 
ment. And  even  now  he  looked  in  the  same  way  on  this 
visit  to  a  churlish  old  man  and  a  rich  and  monstrously  ugly 
heiress.  According  to  his  theory,  all  this  might  lead  to  some- 
thing very  good  and  amusing.  And  why  should  he  not  marry 
her,  if  she  were  so  very  rich  ?  "  That  never  comes  amiss," 
thought  Anatol. 

He  shaved,  perfumed  himself  carefully  and  coquettishly,  and 
with  an  expression  of  indifference  that  was  innate  in  him,  and 
holding  his  head  high,  like  a  young  conqueror,  he  went  to  his 
father's  chamber.  Two  valets  were  engaged  in  getting  Prince 
Vasili  dressed ;  he  himself  looked  around  him  with  much  an- 
imation, and  gave  a  nod  to  his  son  as  he  came  in,  as  much  as 
to  say,  "  Good,  that's  the  way  I  want  you  to  look  ! " 


■2i)2  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

"  No,  but  tell  me,  batyushka,  without  joking,  is  she  mon- 
strously ugly  ?  —  say,"  he  asked,  as  though  continuing  a  con- 
versation that  had  been  more  than  once  broached  during  the 
course  of  their  journey. 

**  Oh,  that'll  do !  It's  all  nonsense.  The  main  thing  is  to 
try  to  be  respectful  and  prudent  towards  the  old  prince.^' 

*'  If  he's  going  to  say  unpleasant  things  to  me,  I  shall  go 
right  away,"  said  Anatol.  "I  can't  abide  these  old  men. 
Hey  ?  " 

"  ilemeraber,  your  whole  future  depends  upon  this." 

Meantime,  in  the  maidservant's  room,  not  only  was  it  known 
that  the  minister  and  his  son  had  arrived,  but  every  detail  of 
their  personal  appearance  had  been  circumstantially  discussed. 
But  the  princess  Mariya  sat  alone   in  her  room,  and  vainly 
struggled  to  conquer  her  inward  agitation. 

"  Why  did  they  write  me  ?  Why  has  Liza  spoken  to  me 
about  this  ?  ^Vhy,  of  course  it  cannot  take  place !  "  she  said 
to  herself,  looking  into  her  mirror.  "  How  can  I  go  down  to 
the  drawing-room  ?  Even  if  he  pleased  me,  I  could  not  now 
be  sure  of  myself  in  his  presence." 

The  mere  thought  of  her  father's  eyes  renewed  her  dismay. 
The  little  princess  and  Mile.  Bourienne  had,  by  this  time,  re- 
ceived all  necessary  information  from  the  maid,  Masha,  who 
told  them  what  a  handsome  young  man,  with  rosy  cheeks  and 
dark  eyebrows,  the  minister's  son  was ;  and  how,  when  his 
papenka  had  been  scarcely  able  to  drag  his  feet  up  the  stairs, 
he  had  flown  up  like  an  eagle,  three  steps  at  a  time.  Aftor 
hearing  this  news,  the  little  princess  and  Mile.  Bourienne  has- 
tened to  the  Princess  Mariya's  room,  filling  the  corridor  with 
the  lively  sound  of  their  voices  as  they  went. 

"  lis  sont  arrives^  Marie  ;  did  you  know  it  ?  "  said  the  little 
princess,  waddling  along,  and  dropping  heavily  into  an  arm- 
chair. She  was  no  longer  in  the  dressing  sack,  which  she  had 
worn  in  the  morning,  but  had  put  on  one  of  her  best  gowns. 
Her  hair  was  carefully  brushed,  and  her  face  was  full  of  ani- 
mation, which,  however,  did  not  atone  for  her  sunken  and 
livid  features.  In  the  finery  in  which  she  was  accustomed  to 
appear  in  Petersburg  society,  it  was  still  more  noticeable  that 
her  beauty  had  sadly  faded.  Mile.  Bourienne  had  also  taken 
pains  to  make  some  improvement  in  her  dress,  and  this  made 
her  pretty,  fresh  face  still  more  attractive. 

"  What  ?  and  you  intend  to  appear  as  you  are,  dear  prin- 
cess ?  "  she  exclaimed.  "  They  will  be  here  in  a  moment  to 
bring  word  that  the  gentlemen  are  in  the  drawing-room ;  we 


WAR  AXD  PEACE.  268 

must  go  down ;  so  won't  you  make  just  a  little  change  in  your 
toilette  ?  "  ♦ 

The  little  princess  got  up  out  of  the  arm-chair,  rang  for  the 
maid;  and  hastily  and  merrily  began  to  devise  some  adornment 
for  her  sister-in-law,  and  get  it  materialized.  The  Princess 
Mariya  felt  humiliated,  in  her  own  sense  of  dignity,  by  the  ex- 
citement which  the  coming  of  her  suitor  birred  in  her,  and 
still  more  humiliated  because  both  of  her  friends  did  not  seem 
to  imagine  tjiat  it  was  possible  to  be  otherwise.  To  tell  them 
how  ashamed  she  was  for  herself,  and  for  them  would  have 
been  to  betray  her  agitation ;  moreover,  to  have  refused  to  put 
on  the  adornment  which  they  were  getting  ready  for  her,  would 
have  entailed  endless  jests  and  reproaches.  She  grew  red,  her 
lovely  eyes  lost  their  brilliancy,  her  face  became  covered  with 
patches,  and  with  the  unlovely  expression,  as  of  a  victim,  com- 
ing more  and  more  frequently  in  her  face,  she  surrendered  her- 
self into  the  power  of  Mile.  Bourienne  and  Liza.  Both  the 
ladies  labored  in  perfectly  good  faith  to  render  her  handsome. 
She  was  so  homely,  that  neither  of  them  could  ever  dream  of 
entering  into  rivalry  with  her ;  therefore,  being  perfectly  sin- 
cere in  that  naive  and  firm  conviction  peculiar  to  women,  that 
ornaments  can  make  a  face  beautiful,  they  busied  themselves 
with  her  adornment. 

•'  No,  it's  a  fact,  ma  bonne  amte,  that  dress  isn't  becoming," 
said  Liza,  looking  critically  at  her  sister-in-law  from  some  little 
distance.  "  Try  that  dark-red  masakd  that  you  have.  Truly  ! 
you  know  your  whole  fate,  perhaps,  depends  upon  this  mat- 
ter. This  one  is  too  light ;  it  won't  do !  no,  oh,  no !  it 
won't  do ! " 

It  was  not  that  the  dress  was  not  becoming,  but  the  princess's 
face  and  whole  figure  were  at  fault ;  but  neither  Mile.  Bouri- 
enne or  the  little  princess  realized  this.  It  seemed  to  them 
that  if  they  put  a  blue  ribbon  in  her  hair,  and  combed  it  up 
properly,  and  then  added  a  blue  scarf  tb  her  cinnamon-colored 
dress,  and  made  some  other  such  additions,  all  would  be  well. 
They  forgot  that  her  scared  face  and  her  figure  could  not 
he  altered,  and,  therefore,  no  matter  how  much  they  might 
▼aiy  the  frame  and  adornment,  the  face  itself  would  remain 
pitiful  and  unatti-active.  At  last,  after  two  or  three  experi- 
ments, to  which  the  Princess  Mariya  patiently  submitted,  when 
her  hair  had  been  combed  up  high  from  her  forehead  (a  mode 

•"  Eh,  bUn,  et  vcus  restez  comme  vous  Stes*  chere  princesse  f  On  va  venir 
^xnoncer  que  ce$  messieurs  soni  au  s<Uon;  il/audra  descendre  et  vous  ne 
f^iks  unpetU  brin  de  toilette  f  '* 


264  WAR   AND  PEACE. 

of  dressing  the  hair  that  absolutely  changed  her  face,  and  that 
for  the  worse),  and  she  was  dressed  in  the  masakd  dress  witli 
the  blue  scarf,  the  little*  princess  walked  around  her  twice  in  suc- 
cession, adjusted  with  her  dainty  lingers  some  of  the  folds  iu 
the  skirt,  pulled  out  the  scarf,  looked  at  her  with  her  head 
bent  now  on  this  side,  now  on  that, — 

^'  No,  that  is  impossible,'*  said  she,  decidedly,  clasping  her 
hands.  "  No,  Marie,  decidedly,  this  does  not  do  at  all.  I  like 
you  better  in  your  little,  everyday,  gray  dress.  Now,  please 
do  this  for  me.  *  Katya,"  she  said  to  the  maid,  **  bring  the 
princess  her  grayish  dress,  and  —  see,  ^Ille.  liourienne,  how  I 
am  going  to  fix  it,"  she  added,  with  a  thrill  of  anticipation  iu 
her  artistic  pleasure.  But  when  Katya  brought  the  desiretl 
garment,  the  Princess  Mariya  sat  motionless  before  the  inirK»r, 
looking  at  her  face,  and  the  mirror  gave  baek  the  reflection  of 
eyes  full  of  tears,  and  a  mouth  trembling  with  the  premo- 
nition of  a  storm  of  sobbing. 

"  Voyons,  chhre  princess,^'  said  Mile.  Bourienne,  "  encore  un 
petit  effort !  " 

The  little  princess,  taking  the  dress  from  the  maid,  went  to 
the  Princess  Marie. 

"  Well,  now  we  will  try  something  that  is  simple  and  becom- 
ing," said  she.  The  three  voices,  lier's.  Mile.  Bourienue's,  and 
Katya's,  who  was  laughing,  mingled  into  one  merry  chatter,  like 
the  chirping  of  birds. 

"iVbn,  laissez  mot!  —  let  me  be,?  said  the  princess,  and 
her  voice  sounded  so  serious  and  sorrowful  that  the  chirping 
of  the  birds  ceased  instantly.  They  looked  at  her  large,  li^au- 
tiful  eyes,  full  of  tears,  and  of  melancholy,  and  they  knew  from 
their  wide  and  beseeching  expression,  that  it  was  useless,  and 
even  cruel,  to  insist. 

"-4m  mo  iris  changez  de  coi^wre,"  said  the  little  princess.  '*! 
told  you  so!"  said  she  reproachfully,  to  Mile.  Bourienne. 
"  Marie  has  one  of  tlkose  faces  which  can't  stand  this  way  of 
dressing  the  hair.  Not  at  all,  not  at  all.  Ohauge  it,  please 
do."  t 

" LaUsez  moiy  laissez  mot;  it's  all  absolutely  the  same  to 
me,"  replied  the  young  princess  in  a  weary  voice,  and  scarcely 
refraining  from  tears. 

Mile.  Bourienne   and  the   little   princess  were   obliged  to 

•"iVbn,  Marie,  d€cid€n\entt  qa  ne  vous  va  pns.  Jv  vous  oimr.  mieux  t/<in« 
votre  petite  robe  (/rise  de  tons  Ics  jours.     Non,  de  f/racr  faites  rela  povr  mot." 

t  *'  Marie  avne  d€  cesftfjures  avxquellfs  ce  (funre  de  coiffure  ne  vas  pas  du 
tout.    Mais  du  tout,  du  tout.    Ctianyez  de  grace.*' 


J 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  265 

airknowledge  to  themselves  that  the  Princess  Mariya,  as  they 
had  dressed  her,  was  very  homely,  more  so  than  usual ;  but 
now  it  was  too  late.  She  looked  at  them  with  that  expression 
which  they  had  learned  to  know  so  well,  —  an  expression  of 
deep  thought  and  melancholy.  It  did  not  inspire  them  with 
any  sense  of  awe  of  her  (for  that  feeling  she  never  could 
inspire),  but  they  knew  that  when  her  face  had  this  expres- 
sion, she  was  silent  and  immovable  in  her  resolutions. 

*•  Vous  changerez^  iCest-ce  pas?^^  asked  Liza,  but  when  the 
Princess  Mariya  made  no  reply,  Liza  left  the  room. 

The  Princess  Mariya  was  left  alone.  She  would  not  grant 
Liza's  re<iuest,  luid  not  only  she  did  not  change  the  style  of 
her  hair,  but  did  not  even  look  at  herself  in  the  glass.  J)roj)- 
ping  her  eyes,  imd  letting  her  hands  fall  nervelessly,  she  sat 
and  pondered.  She  saw  in  her  imagination  her  husband :  a 
man,  a  strong,  commanding,  and  strangely  attractive  being, 
who  should  suddenly  carry  her  off  into  his  own  world,  so 
different  from  hers,  so  full  of  happiness.  She  imagined  her- 
self pressing  to  her  bosom  her  own  child,  just  such  a  baby  as 
she  had  seen  the  evening  before  at  her  old  nurse's  daughter's. 
Her  husband  stands  looking  affectionately  at  her  and  at  their 
baby ;  "  But  no,  this  is  impossible,  I  am  too  homely,"  she  said 
to  herself. 

"  Please  come  to  tea.  The  prince  will  be  down  in  a  moment," 
said  the  voice  of  the  chambermaid  outside  the  door.  She 
started  up  from  her  day-dream,  and  was  horror-struck  at  her 
own  thoughts.  And  before  she  went  downstairs  she  got  up, 
went  into  the  oratory,  and  pausing  before  the  blackened  face 
of  the  great  "  image  "  of  the  Saviour,  lighted  by  the  beams  of 
the  tapers,  she  stood  there  for  several  moments  with  folded 
hands.  Her  heart  was  tilled  with  painful  forebodings.  Could 
it  be  that  fur  her  there  was  the  possibility  of  the  joy  of  love, 
of  earthly  love  for  a  husband  ?  In  her  imaginings  concern- 
ing marriage,  the  Princess  Mariya  dreamed  of  family  ha})pi- 
ness  and  children,  but  her  principal  dream,  predominating 
over  all  others,  though  unknown  to  herself,  was  that  of 
earthly  love.  The  feeling  was  all  the  stronger,  the  more  she 
tried  to  hide  it  from  others,  and  even  from  herself. 

"  My  God,"  she  cried,  "  how  can  I  crush  out  in  my  heart 
these  thoughts  of  the  evil  one  ?  How  can  I  escape  once  and 
for  all  from  evil  imaginings,  and  calmly  fulfil  thy  will  ?  " 

And  she  had  hardly  offered  this  prayer  ere  God  gave  an  an- 
swer in  her  own  heart. 

*•  Desire  nothing  for  thyself,  seek  not,  disturb  not  thyself^ 


266  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

be  not  envious.  The  future  and  thy  fate  must  needs  be 
hidden  from  thee ;  but  live  so  as  to  be  ready  for  anything.  If 
it  please  God  to  try  thee  in  the  responsibilities  of  marriage, 
be  ready  to  fulfil  his  will." 

With  this  consoling  thought  —  but  still  with  a  secret  hope 
that  her  forbidden,  earthly  dream  might  be  realized — the 
Princess  Mariya  with  a  sigh,  crossed  herself,  and  went  down 
stairs,  thinking  not  of  her  dress,  or  of  her  hair,  or  of  how  she 
should  make  entrance,  or  of  what  she  should  say.  What  did 
all  that  signify  in  comparison  with  the  preordination  of  God, 
without  whose  will  not  a  hair  can  fall  from  a  man's  head. 


CHAPTER   IV. 

When  the  Princess  Mariya  came  down.  Prince  Vasili  and 
his  son  were  already  in  the  drawing-room,  talking  with  the 
little  princess  and  Mile.  Bourienne.  When  she  came  in  with 
her  heavy  gait,  treading  on  her  heels,  the  gentlemen  and  Mile. 
Bourienne  stood  up,  and  the  little  princess  exclaimed,  "  Voila 
Marie  /  "  The  Princess  Mariya  saw  them  all,  and  saw  them 
distinctly.  She  saw  Prince  Vasili's  face  becoming  for  an 
instant  serious  at  the  sight  of  her,  instantly  resume  its  smil- 
ing expression,  and  the  little  princess  watching  curiously  the 
impression  which  her  entrance  would  j)roduce  upon  their 
guests.  She  saw  also  Mile.  Bourienne,  with  her  ribbon  and 
her  i)retty  face,  and  her  eyes  more  sparkling  than  usual,  fixed 
on  him;  but  she  could  not  bring  herself  to  see  hini  ;  [Ol  she 
could  see  was  something  tall,  brilliant,  and  magnificent  coining 
toward  her  as  she  entered  the  room. 

Prince  Vasili  was  the  first  to  greet  her,  and  she  kissed  the 
bald  forehead,  bending  over  her  hand,  and  answered  his  qvios- 
tion  by  assuring  him  "  That,  on  the  contrary,  she  rememliered 
him  very  well."  Then  Anatol  came  to  her.  She  could  not 
see  him  as  yet  at  all.  She  was  only  conscious  of  a  soft  hand 
holding  hers,  while  she  lightly  touched  with  her  lips  a  white 
brow  adorned  with  handsome  brown  hair.  ^Vhen  she  looked 
at  him  his  beauty  dazzled  her. 

Anatol,  hooking  his  right  thumb  behind  one  button  of  his 
uniform,  stood  with  his  chest  thrust  out,  and  his  back  bent  in, 
resting  his  weight  on  one  leg,  and  slightly  inclining  his  head, 
and  looked  at  the  princess  cheerily,  but  without  speaking. 
He  was  evidently  not  thinking  of  her  at  all.  Anatol  was  not 
quick  witted  or  a  ready  talker,  but  on  the  other  hand,  he  hacl 


WAR  AND  PEACE,  267 

that  gift  of  composure  which  is  so  invaluable  in  society,  and 
a  self-confidence  that  nothing  could  disturb.  If  a  man  lacking 
self-confidence  is  silent  at  a  first  introduction,  and  betrays  a 
consciousness  of  the  impropriety  of  such  a  silence,  and  at- 
tempts to  escape  from  it,  it  makes  a  bad  matter  worse ;  but 
Anatol,  swaying  a  little  on  one  leg.  iiad  nothing  to  say,  and 
gazed  with  an  amused  look  at  the  i)rinoess's  hair.  It  wiis 
evident  that  such  ease  of  manner  would  enable  him  to  pre- 
serve silence  any  length  of  time.  His  look  seemed  to  say  : 
**  If  this  silence  is  awkward  for  any  one,  then  speak ;  but  as 
for  me,  I  have  no  desire  to  say  anything. 

Moreover,  Anatol  had  in  his  behavior  toward  women  tliat 
manner  which  strongly  piques  curiosity,  and  excites  fear,  and 
even  love  in  them,  —  a  sort  of  scornful  consciousness  of  his 
own  superiority.  His  look  seemed  to  say  to  them :  I  know 
yoii,  I  know  what  is  disturbing  you.  Ah  how  hapi)y  you 
would  be  if "  —  possibly  he  did  not  think  any  such  thing 
when  he  met  women  (and  there  is  considerable  ground  for 
such  a  supposition,  because  he  thought  very  little),  but  this 
was  what  was  expressed  by  his  look  and  m  inner.  The  prin- 
cess felt  it,  and  apparently  wishing  to  show  him  that  she  did 
not  venture  to  do  such  a  thing  as  engage  his  attention,  she 
turned  to  his  father. 

The  conversation  became  general,  and  ratlirr  lively,  thanks 
to  the  merry  voice  of  the  little  princess,  wliose  downy  lip 
was  constantly  showing  her  white  teeth. 

She  met  Prince  Vasili  with  that  peculiarly  vivacious  man- 
ner which  is  often  employed  by  people  of  merrily  loquacious 
mood,  and  consists  in  the  interchange  between  you  and  your 
acquaintance  of  the  regular  stock  witticisms  of  the  day,  and 
of  pleasant  and  amusing  reminiscences  which  it  is  taken 
for  granted  are  not  understood  by  all  people,  but  which  really 
do  not  exist  at  all,  any  more  than  they  did  in  the  ciise  of  the 
little  Princess  and  Prince  Vasili. 

Prince  Vasili  willingly  adapted  himself  to  this  spirit;  the 
Httle  princess  managed  to  include  Anatol  as  well,  though  she 
scarcely  knew  him,  and  soon  found  herself  sharing  with  him 
in  recollections  of  events  that  in  some  cases  had  never  hap- 
pened at  all.  Mile.  Bourienne  also  took  part  in  these  general 
recollections,  and  even  the  Princess  Mariya  had  a  sort  of  satis- 
faction in  feeling  herself  drawn  into  this  light  gossip. 

"  Here  at  least  we  shall  have  the  benefit  of  your  company 
all  to  ourselves,  dear  ])rince,"  said  the  little  princess  —  in 
French  of  course  —  to  Prince  Vasili,     "  It  won't  be  as  it  used 


208  ^^R  A^D  PEACE. 

to  be  at  our  receptions  at  Annette's,  where  you  always  made 
your  escape,  you  know  —  citte  chere  Annette  ! " 

''  Ah,  but  of  course  you  wou*t  oblige  me  to  talk  about  poli- 
tics as  Annette  does  ! " 

"  But  our  tea  table  ?  " 

«  Oh,  yes  I " 

"  Why  were  you  never  at  Annette's  ? "  asked  the  little 
princess,  of  Anatol.  "  Oh !  but  I  know,  I  know,"  said  i  lio, 
with  a  sly  expression.  "Your  brother  Ippolit  told  me  Jill 
about  your  doings  —  oh!"  she  exclaimed,  threatening  him 
with  her  linger.  "And  then  again  in  Paris,  I  know  alwut 
your  pranks ! " 

"And  hasn't  Ippolit  told  you?"  asked  Prince  Viliiili,  ad- 
dressing his  son  and  seizing  Princess  Liza  by  the  arm,  as  though 
there  were  danger  of  her  running  away,  and  he  wished  to 
prevent  it  while  yet  there  was  time,  "  liasn't  lie  ever  told  you 
how  he  himself  was  dead  in  love  with  our  dear  princess  here, 
and  how  she  wouldn't  have  anything  to  say  to  him  ?  "  * 

"  Oh,  she  is  a  pearl  among  women,  princess  ! "  t  said  he,  ad- 
dressing the  Princess  Mariya. 

Mile.  Bourienne  on  her  part,  when  she  heard  the  word 
"  Paris,"  did  not  lose  the  opportunity  of  also  adding  her  recol- 
lections to  the  general  conversation.  She  allowed  herself  to 
inquire  of  Anatol  if  he  had  been  long  in  Paris,  and  how  that 
city  pleased  him. 

Anatol  took  evident  pleasure  in  answering  the  french- 
woman's questions,  and  with  a  smile  talked  with  her  about 
her  native  land.  Seeing  how  ])retty  la  Bourienne  was,  Anatol 
decided  that,  after  all,  it  would  not  be  so  very  stupid  here  at 
Luisiya  Gorui.  "Not  at  all  bad  looking,"  he  said  to  hinist^lf, 
as  he  looked  at  her ;  "  very  far  from  it.  I  hope  that  when 
she  marries  me  she  will  take  this  demolsellG  dc  compngnie 
with  her,  la  petite  est  geutUle  !  " 

The  old  prince  took  his  own  time  about  dressing,  and  as  he 
thought  what  course  was  best  for  him  to  take,  he  frowned. 
The  coming  of  these  guests  annoyed  him. 

"  What  are  Prince  Vasili  and  his  son  to  me  ?  Prince  Vasili 
is  an  empty  swaggerer,  and  his  son  must  l.e  a  fine  s})eciiiien," 
he  grumbled  to  himself.  He  was  annoyed  because  the  coming 
of  these  guests  aroused  in  the  de])ths  of  his  soul  an  unsettled 
and  constantly  avoided  question,  a  question  in  regard  to  which 
the  old  prince  was  always  deceiving  himself.     The  question 

•  Lq  mettait  a  la  porte. 

t  Ohf  c*cfit  laperle  dcs  femmeSf  princeese. 


War  and  p^Acn,  269 

was  this :  whether  he  could  make  up  his  mind  to  part  with  his 
daughter  and  let  her  marry.  The  old  prince  could  never  bring 
himself  to  ask  the  question  directly,  knowing  beforehand  that 
if  he  should  answer  it  honestly,  his  honesty  would  come  into 
open  antagonism,  not  merely  with  his  feelings,  but  with  the 
whole  order  and  system  of  his  life.  For  Prince  Nikolai  An- 
dreyitch,  life  without  his  daughter,  little  as  he  outwardly 
seemed  to  appreciate  her,  was  out  of  the  question. 

"  And  why  should  she  get  married  ? "  he  asked  himself. 
"  Probably  to  be  unliJippy.  Here  is  Liza  —  certainly  it  would 
be  hard  to  find  a  better  husband  than  Andrei  —  and  yet  is  she 
contented  with  her  lot  ?  And  who  would  take  her  from  mere 
love  ?  She  is  homely,  awkward  I  They  would  marry  her  for 
her  connections,  for  her  wealth !  And  can't  girls  live  unmar- 
ried ?     They'd  be  much  happier  " 

Thus  thought  Prince  Nikolai  Andreyevitch,  as  he  performed 
his  toilet  in  his  cabinet,  and  still  at  the  same  time  the  ever- 
procrastinated  question  now  demanded  an  immediate  solution. 
Prince  Vasili  had  brought  his  son,  evidently  with  the  inten- 
tion of  making  a  proposal,  and  therefore  this  very  day  or  the 
next  he  should  have  to  give  a  direct  answer.  His  name,  his 
position  in  the  world  was  excellent. 

"  Well,  I've  no  objection,"  said  the  prince  to  himself.  "  But 
let  him  prove  himself  worthy  of  her.  Well,  we  shall  see. 
Yes,  we  shall  see ! "  he  exclaimed  aloud,  "  yes,  we  shall  see 
how  it  is,"  and  with  his  usual  firm  tread  he  went  into  the 
drawing-room,  took  in  all  present  with  a  sweeping  glance, 
noticed  even  the  change  that  the  little  princess  had  made 
in  her  dress,  and  la  Bourienne's  ribbon,  and  the  Princess 
Mariya's  monstrous  headdress,  and  her  isolation  in  the  gen- 
eral conversation,  and  not  least,  Bourienne  and  Anatol's 
exchange   of  smiles. 

"She  is  dressed  up  like  a  fool,"  he  thought,  giving  his 
daughter  a  wrathful  glance.  "She  has  no  sense  of  shame, 
and  he  —  he  does  not  care  anything  about  making  her  ac- 
quaintance.'^ He  went  straight  to  Prince  Vasili :  "  Well,  how 
aiv  you,  how  are  you  ?     Glad  to  see  you ! " 

*•  Friendship  laughs  at  distance,"  *  exclaimed  Prince  Vasili, 
quoting  the  familiar  proverb  with  ready  wit,  and  with  his 
uisual  self-confident  familiarity.  "  Here  is  my  second  son  ; 
grant  him  your  friendship,  I  beg  of  you." 

Prince  Nikolai  Andrevevitch  surveyed  Anatol. 

"  Fine  young  follow  !     Fine  young  fellow,"  said  lie.     "  Now 

*  Literany :  For  a  dear  old  friend  even  seven  versts  is  not  a  roundabout. 


270  WAH  AND  PEACe. 

come,  give  me  a  kiss,"  and  he  offered  him  his  cheek.  Auatol 
kissed  the  old  man  and  looked  at  him  curiously,  but  with  per- 
fect composure,  expecting  soon  to  hear  one  of  those  droll 
remarks  of  which  his  father  had  told  him.  Prince  Nikolai 
Andreyevitch  sat  down  in  his  usual  place  at  one  end  of  the 
sofa,  drew  up  an  arm-chair  for  Prince  Vasili,  pointed  him  to 
it,  and  began  to  ask  him  about  the  news  in  the  political  world. 
He  listened  with  apparent  attention  to  what  Prince  Vasili  had 
to  say,  but  he  kept  glancing  at  the  Princess  Mariya, 

"  JSo  that's  what  they  write  from  Potsdam,  is  it  ?  "  said  he, 
repeating  Prince  Vasili's  last  words,  and  then  suddenly  get- 
ting up,  he  went  over  to  his  daughter.  "  So  this  is  how  you 
dress  before  company,  hey  ?"  exclaimed  he.  "Excellent,  admi- 
rable !  You  appear  before  folks  with  your  hair  done  up  in 
this  new-fangled  way,  and  I  tell  you,  in  the  presence  of  these 
same  folks,  never  again,  without  my  leave,  to  rig  yourself  up 
in  such  a  fashion !  " 

"  It  was  my  fault,  mon  pere,^  said  the  little  princess,  blush- 
ing, and  coming  to  her  sister-in-law's  rescue. 

"  You  can  do  as  you  please,"  said  Prince  Nikolai  Andreye- 
vitch, making  a  low  bow  before  his  son's  wife.  "  But  she  has 
no  right  to  disfigure  herself ;  she's  ugly  enough  without  that" 
And  he  once  more  resumed  his  place,  paying  no  further  heed 
to  his  daughter,  who  was  ready  to  weep. 

"  On  the  contrary,  that  way  of  dressing  her  hair  is  very  be- 
coming to  the  princess,"  said  Prince  Vasili. 

"  Well,  bahjnshha  —  my  young  prince  —  what  is  his  name  ?  " 
said  Prince  Nikolai  Audrey  itch,  turning  to  Anatol, "  come  here. 
Let  us  have  a  little  talk,  and  get  acquainted." 

"  Now  the  sport  begins,"  thought  Anatol,  and  with  a  smile 
he  took  a  seat  by  the  old  prince. 

"  Well  now,  my  dear,  you  have  been  educated  abroad,  some- 
what different  from  your  father  and  me,  who  had  the  parish 
dyachok  teach  us  our  abc's.  Tell  me,  my  dear,  you  serve  in 
the  Horse  Guards,  don't  you  ?  "  asked  the  old  prince,  scruti- 
nizing Anatol  closely  and  keenly. 

"  No,  I  have  been  transferred  to  the  line,"  replied  Anatol, 
scarcely  able  to  keep  from  laughing. 

"  Ah,  excellent  thing !  So  that  you  can  serve  the  tsar  and 
your  country.  It's  war  time.  Such  fine  young  men  as  you 
ought  to  be  in  the  service.     At  the  front,  I  suppose  ?  " 

"No,  prince;  our  regiment  has  gone,  but  I  was  detached. 
What  was  1  detached  for,  papa  ?  "  asked  Anatol,  turning  to 
his  father  with  a  laugh. 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  271 

"Famous  way  of  serving,  I  must  confess.  *  What  am  I  de- 
tached for  ?  '  ha !  ha !  ha  1 "  roared  Prince  Nikolai  Audrey e- 
vitch,  and  Anatol  joined  in  still  more  vociferously.  Suddenly 
Prince  Nikolai  Andreyevitch  began  to  scowl.  "  Well,  get  you 
gone,"  said  he  to  Anatol.  Anatol  with  a  smile  went  and  re- 
joined the  ladies. 

"  And  so  you  have  had  him  educated  abroad,  hey,  Prince 
Vasili  ?  "  asked  the  old  prince,  of  Kuragin. 

'^  I  did  the  best  I  could  for  him,  and  I  must  say  that  the 
schools  there  are  far  better  than  ours." 

"  Well,  everything  is  changed,  all  new-fangled  notions.  He's 
a  fine  young  man,  a  fine  lad.  Now  let's  go  into  my  room." 
He  took  Prince  Viisili  by  the  arm,  and  carried  him  off  to  his 
cabinet 

Prince  Vasili  finding  himself  alone  with  the  old  prince, 
immediately  began  to  unfold  to  him  his  wishes  and  hopes. 

"  What  kind  of  an  idea  have  you  ? "  exclaimed  the  old 
prince,  savagely,  "  that  I  keep  her  tied,  and  cannot  part  with 
her  ?  What  notions  they  have ! "  he  exclaimed  angrily. 
"To-morrow,  as  far  as  I'm  concerned,  —  I  merely  tell  you  that 
I  want  to  know  my  daughter's  husband  better.  You  know  my 
principles:  all  above  board.  To-morrow  I  will  ask  her  in 
your  presence  if  she  will  have  him ;  if  she  will,  then  let  him 
stay.  Let  him  stay,  I  will  study  him."  The  prince  snorted, 
"Or  let  him  go,  it's  all  the  same  to  me,"  he  cried,  in  the  same 
piercing  tone  in  which  he  had  uttered  his  farewell  when  his 
son  took  his  departure. 

"I  will  tell  you  frankly,"  said  Prince  Vasili,  in  the  tone  of 
a  cwming  man  who  is  convinced  of  the  uselessness  of  trying 
to  be  shrewd  toward  such  a  sharp-eyed  opponent.  "  You  see, 
your  eyes  read  through  men.  Anatol  is  no  genius,  but  he  is 
an  honorable,  kind-hearted  boy,  and  an  excellent  son." 

"Very  good,  we  shall  see." 

As  usually  happens  in  the  case  of  women,  who  have  been 
longed  deprived  of  the  society  of  men,  all  three  of  the  women 
at  Prince  Andreyevitch's,  now  that  they  had  Anatol  in  their 
midst,  felt  that  hitherto  life  had  not  been  life  for  them.  The 
powers  of  thinking,  feeling,  loving,  were  instantly  multiplied 
tenfold  in  each  one  of  them,  so  that  their  existence,  which 
had  been  till  now  as  it  were,  spent  in  darkness,  was  suddenly 
tilled  by  a  new  light,  full  of  rich  significance. 

The  Princess  Mariya  no  longer  gave  a  thought  to  her  looks, 
or  the  dressing  of  her  hair.     Her  whole  attention  was   ab- 


272  ^VAR  AND  PEACE, 

sorbed  by  the  handsome  open  fax;e  of  the  man  who  perhaps 
would  be  her  husband.  He  seemed  to  her  good,  brave,  reso- 
lute, manly,  and  noble.  She  was  quite  convinced  of  this.  A 
thousand  dreams  of  the  family  life  which  she  should  enjoy  in 
the  future  persisted  in  rising  in  her  mind.  She  tried  to  banish 
them,  and  keep  them  out  of  her  imagination. 

"  But  was  1  too  cool  toward  him  ?  "  queried  the  Princess 
Mariya.  "  I  try  to  be  reserved,  because  I  feel  in  the  depths 
of  my  soul  that  he  is  alreatly  too  near  to  me ;  but  of  course, 
he  cannot  know  all  that  I  think  about  him,  and  he  may 
imagine  that  I  do  not  like  him." 

And  the  young  princess  strove,  and  yet  was  unable  to  be 
amiable  to  her  new  guest. 

"  La  pauvre  fille  !  EUe  est  diableinent  laide  ! ''  —  Devilishly 
ugly  !     Such  was  Anatol's  uncomplimentary  thought  of  her. 

Mile.  Bourienne,  whom  AnatoPs  arrival  had  brought  into  a 
high  state  of  excitement,  allowed  herself  to  have  quite  differ- 
ent thoughts.  Of  course,  being  a  pretty  young  girl,  without 
any  stated  position  in  society,  without  relatives,  and  friends, 
and  far  from  her  native  land,  she  had  no  intention  of  devoting 
her  whole  life  to  the  service  of  Prince  Nikolai  Andreyevitt^h, 
reading  lK)oks  to  him,  and  playing  the  part  of  companion  to 
the  Princess  Mariya.  Mile.  Bourienne  had  been  long  waiting 
for  the  Russian  prince,  who  should  immediately  have  wit 
enough  to  appreciate  her  superiority  to  these  homely,  unbe- 
comingly dressed,  and  awkward  Russian  princesses,  should  fall 
in  love  with  her,  and  elope  with  her ;  now  at  last  the  Russian 
prince  had  come. 

Mile.  Bourienne  knew  a  story  which  her  aunt  had  once 
told  her,  and  which  in  imagination  she  liked  to  repeat  to  the 
end,  with  herself  in  the  heroine's  place.  The  story  was  about 
a  young  girl  who  had  been  seduced,  and  whose  poor  mother  — 
sa  pattvre  mere  —  finding  where  she  was,  came  and  covered 
her  with  reproaches  because  she  had  gone  to  live  with  a  man 
to  whom  she  was  not  married.  IVnie.  Bourienne  was  often 
melted  to  tears  by  imagining  herself  telling  him^  her  seducer, 
til  is  story.  And  now  this  he,  this  genuine  Russian  prince, 
luul  made  his  appearance.  He  would  eloy)e  with  her,  tlien  sa 
pauvre  mere  would  appear,  and  he  would  marry  her. 

Thus  in  ]\Ille.  Bourienne\s  fertile  brain  the  whole  romance 
evolved  itself,  from  the  moment  that  she  began  to  talk  with  him 
about  Paris.  Not  that  Mile.  Bourienne  conceived  of  all  the 
details  —  what  she  was  going  to  do,  did  not  once  occur  to  her  — 
but  still  all  the  materials  were  long  ago  ready  in  he.',  and  now 


.J 


HAH  AND  pi: ACE,  27S 

they  merely  grouped  themstlves  around  Anatol,  whom  she  was 
anxious  and  determined  to  please  as  much  as  possible. 

The  little  princess  (forgetting  her  situation  instinctively), 
and  like  an  old  war-horse  at  the  sound  of  the  trumpet,  made 
ready  to  flirt  at  headlong  speed,  without  meaning  anything 
by  it,  but  with  her  usual  naive  and  light-hearted  spirit  of  fun. 

In  spite  of  the  fact  that  Anatol  in  the  society  of  women 
generally  affected  the  position  of  a  man  who  considers  it  a 
bore  to  have  them  running  after  him,  still  he  felt  a  conscious- 
ness of  gratified  vanity  to  see  his  power  over  these  three 
women.  Moreover,  he  began  to  feel  for  the  pretty  and  enti- 
cing Bourienne  a  real  animal  passion,  such  as  sometimes  over- 
came him  with  extraordinary  rapidity,  and  impelled  him  to 
commit  the  coarsest  and  most  audacious  actions. 

After  tea,  they  all  went  into  the  divan-room,  and  the  Prin- 
cess Mariya  was  invited  to  play  on  the  harpischord.  Anatol 
leaned  on  his  elbows,  in  front  of  her,  near  Mile.  Bourienne, 
and,  with  eyes  full  of  mirth  and  gayety,  looked  at  the  young 
princess,  who  with  a  painful,  and  at  the  same  time  joyous  emo- 
tion, felt  his  gaze  resting  on  her  Her  favorite  sonata  bore 
her  away  into  a  most  genuinely  poetic  world,  and  the  conscious- 
ness of  that  glance  endowed  this  world  with  even  more 
poetry.  In  reality,  however,  Anatol,  though  he  looked  in  her 
direction,  was  not  thinking  of  her,  but  was  occupied  with  the 
motion  of  Mile.  Bourienne's  foot,  which  he  was  at  this  moment 
pressing  with  his  under  the  piano.  Mile.  Bourienne  was  also 
looking  at  the  princess,  but  her  beautiful  eyes  had  an  expres- 
sion of  frightened  happiness  and  hope. 

"How  fond  she  is  of  me,"  thought  the  Princess  Mariya. 
"How  happy  I  am  now,  and  how  happy  I  might  be  with  such 
a  friend  and  such  a  husband !  Husband  I  Can  it  be  possi- 
ble ?  "  she  asked  herself,  not  daring  to  look  at  him,  but,  never- 
thf'less,  feeling  his  gaze  fixed  on  her  face. 

In  the  evening,  when  after  supper  they  were  about  to  sepa- 
rate for  the  night,  Anatol  kissed  the  young  princess's  hand,  she 
herself  knew  not  how  she  dared  to  do  such  a  thing,  but  she 
looked  straight  into  his  handsome  face  as  it  approached  her 
shortsighted  eyes. 

Turning  from  the  princess,  he  went  and  kissed  I^Ille.  Bour- 
ienne's  hand.  This  was  contrary  to  etiquette,  but  ho  did  every- 
thing with  such  confidence  and  simplicity !  Mile.  Hourienne 
flushed,  and  glanced  in  dismay  at  the  princess. 

"Quelle  delicatexse!  how  considerate  of  him,"  thought  the 
princess,     "  f\in  it  l.>e  that  Amelie  (so  she  called  Mile.  Bouri-. 

VOL,  I.— 18. 


274  ^'^^^  AND  PEACE. 

enue)  thinks  that  I  should  be  jealous  of  her,  and  do  not  appre- 
ciate her  affection  and  devotion  to  me  ?  " 

She  went  straight  over  to  Mile.  Bourienne,  and  gave  her  an 
affectionate  kiss.  Anatol  was  about  to  kiss  the  little  princess's 
hand  also. 

"  Non  /  non  /  non  /  when  your  father  writes  me  that  you  are 
behaving  beautifully,  then  I  will  let  you  kiss  my  hand.  Not 
before."  * 

And,  shaking  her  finger  at  him,  she  left  the  room,  with  a 
smile. 

CHAPTER  V. 

All  had  gone  to  their  rooms,  but,  with  the  exception  of  Ana- 
tol, who  went  to  sleep  as  soon  as  he  got  into  bed,  it  was  long 
before  any  one  could  close  an  eye  that  night. 

"  Is  he  really  to  be  my  husband,  this  handsome  stranger, 
who  seems  so  good ;  ah,  yes,  above  all,  so  good  !  "  thought  the 
Princess  Mariya,  and  a  feeling  of  fear,  such  as  she  had  scarcely 
ever  experienced  before,  came  upon  her.  She  was  afraid  to 
look  round ;  it  seemed  to  her  as  though  some  one  were  stand- 
ing there  behind  the  screen  in  the  dark  corner.  And  this 
some  one  was  he  —  the  devil  —  and  he  was  this  man  with  the 
white  forehead,  the  black  eyebrows,  and  the  rosy  lips.  She 
called  her  maid,  and  begged  her  to  sleep  in  her  room. 

Mile.  Bourienne,  that  same  evening,  walked  for  a  long  time 
up  and  down  the  winter  garden,  vainly  expecting  some  one, 
now  smiling  at  her  own  thought,  now  stirred  to  tears  by  imag- 
ining the  words  which  sa  pauvre  mh'e  would  say  in  reproach- 
ing her  after  her  fall. 

The  little  princess  scolded  her  maid  because  her  bed  was  not 
comfortable.  It  was  impossible  for  her  to  lie  on  her  side,  or 
on  her  face.  Any  position  was  awkward  and  uncomfortable. 
She  felt  more  than  ever  tried  to-day,  especially  because  Ana- 
tol's  presence  brought  back  so  vividly  the  days  before  she  was 
married,  when  she  was  light-hearted  and  merry.  She  reclined 
in  her  easy-chair,  in  her  dressing  jacket  and  night-cap.  Katya, 
half  asleep,  and  with  her  hair  hanging  down  in  a  braid,  was 
turning  for  the  third  time  and  shaking  up  the  heavy  mat- 
tress, muttering  to  herself. 

"  I  told  you  that  it  was  all  humps  and  hollows,"  insisted  the 
little  princess,  *>  I  should  like  to  go  to  sleep  myself ;  I'm  sure 

•"  Quand  votre  phre  m^^crira  que  voua  vous  cpnduisez  hien,  je  voti$  don- 
nerai  nvi  main  it  baiser/    Pas  avant !  " 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  276 

it  isn't  my  fault,"  and  her  voice  trembled  as  though  she  were 
a  child,  getting  ready  to  cry. 

The  old  prince,  also,  could  not  sleep.  Tikhon,  as  he  napped, 
beard  him  stamping  wrathfully  up  and  down,  and  snorting.  It 
seemed  to  the  old  prince  that  he  had  been  insulted  through  his 
daughter.  The  insult  was  painful,  because  it  was  directed  not 
to  himself  but  to  another,  to  his  daughter,  whom  he  loved  bet- 
ter than  himself.  He  kept  telling  himself  that  he  would 
calmly  think  the  whole  matter  over,  and  decide  how  in  justice 
to  himself  he  must  act ;  but  instead  of  so  doing,  he  grew  more 
and  more  vexed  with  himself. 

"Let  the  first  young  man  come  along,  and  she  forgets  father 
and  all !  and  she  runs  upstairs,  combs  up  her  hair  and  prinks, 
and  is  no  longer  like  herself.  Glad  to  throw  her  father  over. 
And  she  knew  that  I  —  that  I  noticed  it.  Fr !  —  f r !  —  fr !  and 
then,  haven't  I  eyes  to  see  that  that  simpleton  has  no  eyes  for 
any  one  except  Burlenka  (must  get  rid  of  her !).  And  how 
is  it  she  hasn't  enough  pride  to  see  it  herself  ?  If  not  for  her 
own  sake,  she  might  at  least  show  some  for  mine.  I  must  show 
her  that  this  booby  doesn't  think  of  her  at  all,  but  only  stares 
at  Bourienne.     She  has  no  pride,  but  I'll  prove  this  for  her." 

The  old  prince  knew  that  if  he  told  his  daughter  that  she 
was  laboring  under  a  delusion,  that  Anatol  was  bent  on  flirting 
with  Bourienne,  he  would  in  this  way  touch  his  daughter's 
pride,  and  his  game  would  be  played;  for  he  was  anxious  not 
to  part  with  his  daughter.  This  consideration  served  to  quiet 
him.    He  summoned  Tikhon,  and  began  to  undress. 

"  The  devil  take  'em  !  "  he  said  to  himself,  as  Tikhon  slipped 
the  night-shirt  over  his  master's  thin,  old  body,  the  chest  over- 
grown with  gray  hairs. 

"I  did  not  invite  'em.  They  have  come  to  upset  my  whole 
life.  And  my  life  will  soon  be  come  to  an  end.  To  the  devil 
with  'em  ! "  he  muttered,  while  his  head  was  still  hidden  by 
the  shirt.  Tikhon  knew  the  prince's  habit  of  sometimes 
thinking  aloud,  and  therefore  he  met  with  unflinching  eyes 
the  prince's  wrathfully  scrutinizing  gaze,  as  his  head  came 
out  from  the  night-shii-t. 

"  Have  they  gone  to  bed  ?  "  asked  the  prince. 

Tikhon,  after  the  manner  of  all  well-trained  valets,  knew  by 
intuition  what  his  barin  was  thinking  about.  He  judged  that 
the  question  referred  to  Prince  Vasili  and  his  son. 

"They  have  deigned  to  go  to  bed,  and  their  lights  are  out, 
your  illustriousness." 

"No  reason  why  they  shouldn't,"  briskly  exclaimed  the 


276  tr.iy?  aXD  peace. 

prince,  and  thrusting  his  feet  into  his  slippers,  and  his  arms 
into  his  dressing-gown,  he  went  to  the  sofa  where  he  usuallj    j 
slept.  I 

Although  but  few  words  had  been  exchanged  by  Anatol  and    • 
Mile.  Bourienne,  they  thoroughly  understood  one  another  as    • 
to  the  first  chapters  of  the  romance,  up  to  the  appearance  of 
pauure  mere  :  they  understood  that  they  had  much  to  say  to 
each  other  in  secret,  and  therefore  early  in  the  morning  tbey    , 
both  sought  an  opportunity  for  a  private  interview.     While    ; 
the  young  princess  was  going  at  the  usual  hour  to  meet  her 
father.  Mile.  Bourienne  and  Anatol  met  in  the  winter  gardeu.    j 

The  Princess  Mariya  on  this  particular  day,  went  with  more  i 
than  her  usual  trepidation  to  the  door  of  her  father's  cabinet  i 
It  seemed  to  her  that  every  one  knew  that  this  day  her  fate  ' 
was  to  be  decided,  but  also  knew  what  she  herself  felt  about  , 
it.  She  read  this  expression  on  Tikhou's  face,  and  on  the  j 
face  of  Prince  Vasili's  valet,  as  he  met  her  in  the  corridor  ou  j 
his  way  with  hot  water  for  the  prince,  and  made  her  a  low  j 
bow.  Tlie  old  prince  this  morning  was  thoroughly  affection-  \ 
ate  and  kind  in  his  behavior  to  his  daughter.  The  Princess  j 
Mariya  well  knew  this  expression  of  kindness.  It  was  tlie  • 
expression  which  his  face  generally  wore  when  his  nervous 
hands  doubled  up  with  vexation  because  she  did  not  under- 
stand her  arithmetical  examples,  and  he  would  spring  to  his 
feet,  walk  away  from  her  and  then  repeat  the  same  words  in  a 
low  gentle  voice. 

He  immediately  addressed  himself  to  the  business  in  hand, 
and  began  to  explain  it  to  her,  all  the  time  using  the  formal 
vui,  you. 

"  I  have  received  an  offer  for  your  hand  in  marriage,"  said 
he,  with  an  unnatural  smile.  "I  suppose  you  did  not  im- 
agine," he  went  on  to  say,  "that  he  came  here  and  brought 
his  pupil" — for  some  inexplicable  reason,  Prince  Nikolai 
Andreyevitch  called  Anatol  -vospttannik,  pupil —  "for  the  sake 
of  '  my  handsome  eyes.'  Last  evening  he  proposed  for  your 
hand.     And,  as  you  know  my  principles,  I  refer  it  to  you." 

"  How  am  I  to  understand  you,  m^n  p^re  ?  "  she  exclaimed, 
turning  ])ale  and  then  blushing. 

"  How  understand  me ! "  cried  her  father,  wrathfully, 
"  Prince  Vjisili  is  satisfied  with  you  for  a  daughter-in-law,  and 
has  proposiul  for  your  hand  in  behalf  of  his  pupil.  That's 
what  it  means.     *  How  understand  it  ? '     That  I  ask  you." 

"  I  do  not  know  so  well  as  you,  man  pere,^^  whispered  the 
princess. 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  277 

"  I  ?  I  ?  what  have  I  to  do  with  it  ?  Consider  me  out  of 
the  questiou.  Fm  not  the  one  who  is  going  to  be  married. 
What's   t/our  opinion  ?     That  is  what  must  be  known/' 

The  princess  saw  that  her  father  did  not  regard  the  matter 
very  favorably,  but  at  the  same  time  the  thought  occurred  to 
her  that  now  or  never  the  whole  destiny  of  her  life  hung  in 
the  balance.  She  droj>ped  her  eyes,  so  as  not  to  see  his  face, 
because  she  knew  that  she  could  not  think  if  she  were  under 
its  dominion,  but  even  then  she  could  only  be  subject  to  him, 
and  she  said,  — 

"  I  desire  only  one  thing,  to  fulfil  your  will ;  but  if  it  be 
necessary  for  me  to  express  my  desire  "  — 

She  h;ul  no  time  to  tinish  her  sentence.  The  prince  inter- 
rupted lier. 

"Tliat's  admirable,"  lie  cried.  '*  He  will  take  you  for  your 
fortune,  and  by  the  way,  hook  on  Mile.  Bourienne  !  She  will 
be  his  wife,  and  you"  —  the  prince  paused.  He  noticed  the 
effect  produced  on  his  daughter  by  his  words.  She  hung  her 
head  and  was  ready  to  burst  into  tears. 

"Well,  well,  I  was  only  jesting,"  said  he.  " Remember  this 
one  tiling,  princess ;  I  stick  to  my  principles  that  a  girl  has  a 
perfect  right  to  choose  for  herself.  I  give  you  your  freedom. 
Remember  this,  though,  the  happiness  of  your  whole  life 
depends  upon  your  decision.  Leave  me  out  of  the  considerar 
tion;^ 

"  But  I  do  not  know,  rnon  pere." 

"There's  nothing  to  be  said.  He  will  marry  as  he  is  bid, 
whether  it  be  you  or  soiuel)ody  else,  but  i/ou  are  free  to  choose. 
Go  to  your  room ;  think  it  over,  and  at  the  ^nd  of  an  hour 
come  to  me  and  tell  me  in  his  presence  what  your  decision  is, 
yea,  or  no.  i^know  that  you'll  have  to  pray  over  it.  Well, 
pray,  if  you  please.  Only  you'd  better  use  your  reiison.  Get 
you  gone.  Yea  or  no,  yea  or  no,  yea  or  no ! "  cried  he,  as 
the  princess,  still  in  a  mist,  left  the  room  with  tottering  step. 

Her  fate  was  already  decided,  and  happily  decided.  But 
That  her  father  said  about  Mile.  Bourienne,  — that  insinuation 
vas  horrible.  False,  let  us  hope,  but  still  it  was  horrible,  and 
she  could  not  keep  it  out  of  her  thoughts.  She  started  directly 
to  her  room  through  the  winter  garden,  seeing  nothing  and 
hearing  nothing,  when  suddenly  Mile.  Bourienne's  well-known 
chatter  struck  her  ear  and  woke  her  from  her  dreaming.  She 
'^sed  her  eyes  and,  two  paces  away,  saw  Anatol  with  the 
Frenchwoman  in  his  arms,  and  whispering  something  in  her 
^r«    W^ith  a  terrible  expression  on  his  handsome  face,  he 


278  ^VAR  AND  PEACE. 

looked  at  the  Princess  Mariya,  and  at  first  did  not  release 
Mile.  Bourienne,  who  had  not  seen  the  princess  at  all. 

"  Who  is  here  ?  what  is  the  trouble  ?  Just  wait  a  little/' 
Anatol's  face  seemed  to  say.  The  Princess  Mariya  silently 
gazed  at  them.  She  could  not  comprehend  it.  Then  Mile. 
Bourienne  uttered  a  cry  and  fled.  Anatol  with  an  amused 
smile  gave  the  princess  a  bow,  as  though  asking  her  to  look  on 
the  ridiculous  side  of  this  strange  behavior,  and  shrugging  his 
shoulders,  disappeared  through  the  door  that  led  to  his  own 
quarters. 

At  the  end  of  an  hour,  Tikhoncame  to  summon  the  Princess 
Mariya,  He  conducted  her  to  her  father's  rooju  and  told  her 
that  Prince  Vasili  was  also  there.  When  Tikhon  came  for  her 
the  princess  was  sitting  on  a  sofa  in  her  room,  with  her  arm 
around  Mile.  Bourienne.  The  latter  was  weeping,  and  the 
princess  softly  stroked  her  hair.  The  princess's  l)eaiitiful 
eyes,  with  all  their  usual  calmness  and  brilliancy,  giized  with 
affectionate  love  and  sympathy  into  Mile.  Bourienne's  pretty 
face. 

"  No,  princess,  my  place  is  forever  gone  from  your  heart,"  • 
said  Mile.  Bourienne. 

"Why  I  love  you  more  than  ever,"  replied  the  Princess 
Mariya,  "and  I  will  try  to  do  all  that  is  in  my  power  for 
your  happiness." 

"  But  you  despise  me  !  You,  who  are  so  pure,  will  never 
understand  this  frenzy  of  passion.     Ah  !  my  poor  mother  ! "  t 

"  I  understand  it  all,"  replied  the  princess,  with  a  melan- 
choly smile.  "  Compose  yourself,  my  friend,  I  am  going  to 
see  my  father,"  said  she,  and  left  the  room. 

Prince  Vasili  —  with  one  leg  thrown  across  his  knee,  and 
holding  his  snuff-box  in  his  hand  —  was  greatJTj'  excited,  and 
evidently  realized  that  he  was  in  a  precarious  condition,  and 
yet  he  tried  to  conquer  his  own  nervousness.  He  was  sitting 
with  an  imploring  smile  on  his  fm-e  as  the  Princess  Mariya 
entered  the  room.  He  hastily  applied  a  pinch  of  snuff  to  his 
nose. 

"  Ah  I  ma  bonne,  ma  bonne  !  "  he  exclaimed,  rising  and  seiz- 
ing her  by  both  hands.  He  sighed,  and  added,  "  my  son's  fate 
is  in  your  hands.  Decidez,  ma  bonne,  ma  chere,  ma  douct 
Marie  !  I  have  always  loved  you  as  though  you  were  my  own 
daughter."    He  turned  away.    Genuine  tears  stood  in  his  eyes. 

•  A"on,  princessc,jc  ,wi8  perdue  })our  toujonrn  dans  votre  canr. 
t  Mais  V0U8  me  m^prisez^  vous  si  pttrey  vovs  ne  compreiidrez  jamais  eel 
^garwient  de  la  passion  !    Ah  !  ve  n*est  que  ma  paxtvre  mere. 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  279 

"  Fr !  —  fr ! "  —  snorted  Prince  Nikolai  Andreyitch.  "  The 
prince  in  the  name  of  his  pupil  —  I  mean  his  son  —  makes  you 
an  offer.  Will  yoM  or  will  you  not  be  the  wife  of  Prince 
Anatol  Kuragin  ?  Speak :  yea  or  no,"  cried  he.  "  And  then 
I  reserve  to  myself  the  right  of  giving  my  opinion  also.  Yes, 
mj  opinion,  and  only  my  opinion,"  added  Prince  Nikolai 
Andreyitch,  in  reply  to  Prince  Vasili's  beseeching  expression 
-  "  Yea  or  no  ?  " 

"  My  desire,  mon  p^re,  is  never  to  leave  you,  never  to  part 
from  you  as  long  as  we  live.  I  do  not  wish  to  marry,"  said 
she  with  firm  deliberation,  fixing  her  beautiful  eyes  on  Prince 
Vasili  and  on  her  father. 

"Folly !  nonsense  !  nonsense  !  nonsense !  nonsense ! "  cried 
Prince  Nikolai  Andreyitch,  frowning ;  he  drew  his  daughter  to 
him,  yet  he  did  not  kiss  her,  but  merely  brought  his  forehead 
close  to  hers,  and  squeezed  her  hand  which  he  held  in  his  so 
that  she  screamed  out  with  pain.     Prince  Vasili  arose,  — 

"My  dear,'!  will  tell  you  that  this  is  a  moment  that  I  shall 
never  forget,  never !  but,  my  dear,  can't  you  give  us  a  little 
hope  of  ever  touching  your  kind  and  generous  heart?  Say 
that  perhaps  —  the  future  is  so  long.     Only  say  '  perhaps.' "  * 

"Prince,  what  I  have  told  you  is  all  that  my  heart  can  say. 
I  thank  you  for  the  honor,  but  I  can  never  be  your  son's  wife." 

"  Well,  that  ends  it,  my  dear  fellow.  Very  glad  to  have 
seen  you.  Very  glad  to  have  seen  you.  Go  to  your  room,  prin- 
cess, go  to  your  room,"  said  the  old  prince.  "  Very,  very  glad 
to  have  seen  you,"  he  reiterated,  embracing  Prince  Vasili. 

"  My  vocation  is  different,"  said  the  Princess  Mariya  to  her- 
self, "  my  vocation  is  to  be  happy  in  the  happiness  of  others ; 
a  different  sort  of  happiness,  the  happiness  of  love  and  self- 
sacrifice.  And  so  far  as  within  me  lies,  I  will  bring  about  the 
happiness  of  poor  Am61ie.  She  loves  him  so  passionately. 
She  repents  her  conduct  so  bitterly.  I  will  do  everytliing  to 
bring  about  a  marriage  between  them.  If  he  is  not  rich,  I 
will  give  her  the  means,  I  will  petition  my  father,  I  will  ask 
Andrei.  And  I  shall  be  so  happy  when  she  becomes  his  wife. 
She  is  so  unfortunate,  lonely,  and  helpless  in  a  strange  land. 
And  Bozhe  mot !  how  passionately  she  must  love  him,  if  she 
can  so  far  forget  herself.  Maybe,  I  myself  should  have  done 
the  same  thing  ! "  thought  the  Princess  Mariya. 

*}faekere,jevov8  dirai  qve  c*e$t  vn  moTtient  que  je  n*oublierai  jamais, 
jmnaiM:  mnu  7na  bonnes  c«i-ee  que  vous  ne  nous  donnerez  pas  unpen  d^esp^- 
»'<«ice  de  toucher  ce  coiur  si  bony  si  g€n€reux.  Vites  que  peut-etre, 
L^ao^nir  est  si  grand*    Dites :  peut-ftre. 


•  ♦ 


280  WAR  AND  PEACE, 


CHAPTER  VI. 

The  Rostofs  had  not  heard  for  a  long  time  from  their 
Nikolushka,  and  it  was  near  the  middle  of  winter  when  a 
letter  was  handed  to  the  count,  on  the  envelope  of  which  he 
recognized  his  son^s  handwriting.  On  receipt  of  the  k'tter, 
the  count  hastily  and  anxiously  stole  off  to  his  own  cabinet 
walking  on  his  tiptoes,  so  as  to  escape  observation,  and  shut 
himself  in,  and  Lt-^an  to  read  it.  Anna  .Mikhailovna  learning 
about  the  arrival  of  the  letter — for  she  knew  everything  that 
took  place  in  the  house  —  quietly  followed  the  count,  and 
found  him  with  the  letter  in  his  hands,  sobbing  and  laughing 
at  the  same  time. 

Anna  Mikhailovna,  notwithstanding  the  improvement  in  her 
affairs,  still  continued  to  live  at  the  Rostofs. 

" Mon  bon  ami"  exclaimed  Anna  Mikhailovna,  with  a  tone 
of  pathetic  inquiry  in  her  voice,  and  prepared  to  give  him 
sympathy  to  any  extent. 

The  count  sobbed  still  more  violently :  "  Xikolushka  —  a 
letter  —  wounded  —  he  wa^wa-was  w-wounded  —  rna  ckere  — 
wounded,  my  darling  boy*  —  the  little  countess  —  been  — 
made  an  officer  —  glory  to  God,  sldva  Baku  /  How  can  I  tell 
the  little  —  countess  ?  " 

Anna  Mikhailovna  sat  down  by  him,  wiped  the  tears  from 
his  eyes  with  her  handkerchief,  and  from  the  letter,  for  they 
were  dropping  on  it,  and  then  from  her  own  eyes,  read  the 
letter  herself,  soothed  the  count,  and  decided  that  she  would 
use  the  time  till  dinner,  and  even  tea,  for  preparing  the  coun- 
tess, and  then  after  tea,  she  would  break  the  news  to  her,  if 
God  would  only  aid  her. 

During  dinner  time,  Anna  Mikhailovna  talked  alxmt  the 
events  of  the  war  and  about  Nikolu^ika,  and  asked  twic* 
when  they  had  received  the  last  letter  from  him  (though  she 
herself  knew  perfectly  well),  and  remarked  that  very  likely 
they  might  have  a  letter  from  him,  perhaps  that  day.  Every 
time  when,  at  such  insinuations,  the  countess  began  to  grow 
uneasy,  and  glance  anxiously  first  at  the  count  and  then  at 
Anna  Mikhailovna,  Anna  Mikhailovna  most  adroitly  led  the 
conversation  to  insignificant  topics. 

Natasha  more  than  the  rest  of  the  family  was  endowed 
with  peculiar  sensitiveness  to  shades  of  intonation,  to  the 

♦  Oolubchik. 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  281 

looks  and  expressions  of  faces,  and  as  soon  as  dinner  began, 
she  phcked  up  her  ears,  and  came  to  the  conclusion  that  there 
was  some  secret  between  her  father  and  Anna  Mikhailovna, 
and  that  it  was  something  referring  to  her  brother,  and  that 
Anna  Mikhailovna  was  trying  to  ^^  prepare  "  some  one.  Not- 
withstanding all  her  audacity,  she  dared  not  ask  any  questions 
during  dinner  time,  for  she  knew  too  well  how  sensitive  her 
mother  was  in  regard  to  all  that  related  to  her  son ;  but  her 
cariosity  was  so  great  that  she  ate  nothing,  and  kept  turning 
and  twisting  in  her  chair,  in  spite  of  the  reproaches  of  her 
gorerness.  After  dinner,  she  rushed  precipitately  after  Anna 
Mikhailovna,  and  threw  herself  into  her  arms.  '^  Aunty  darl- 
ing,* tell  what  it  is  ?  " 

"Nothing,  my  dear." 

'*  Yes,  there  is,  dearest,  sweet  one,  you  old  pet,t  and  I  shan't 
let  you  go  till  you  tell  me,  for  I  know  that  you  know." 

Anna  Mikhailovna  shook  her  head :  '<  You're  a  little  witch 
^unejine  mauchey  man  enfant  !^^  said  she. 

"A  letter  from  Nikolenka?  Truly,  isn't  that  it?"  cried 
l^atasha,  reading  an  affirmative  answer  in  Anna  Mikhailovna's 
&ce. 

''Yes,  but  for  heaven's  sake  be  more  cautious;  you  know 
how  this  might  trouble  your  rnaman.^^ 

"I  will,  I  will,  but  tell  me  all  about  it!  —  You  won't  tell 
me  ?    Well  then,  I'm  going  right  to  tell  her ! " 

Anna  Mikhailovna  in  few  words  told  Natasha  the  contents 
of  the  letter,  under  the  conditions  of  secrecy. 

"My  true,  true  word  of  honor,"  said  Natasha  crossing  herself, 
"I  won't  tell  any  one,"  and  she  immediately  went  to  Sonya. 

''Nikolenka  —  wounded — a  letter,"  she  exclaimed,  tri- 
umphantly and  joyously. 

"Nicolas ! "  cried  Sonya,  turning  pale. 

Natasha,  seeing  the  impression  produced  on  Sonya  by  the 
news  that  her  brother  was  wounded,  realized  for  the  first 
time  all  the  sorrowful  side  of  thia  news. 

She  ran  to  Sonya,  threw  her  arms  around  her  neck,  and  burst 
into  tears. 

"  He  is  not  badly  wounded,  and  has  been  promoted  to  be  an 
officer ;  he's  all  well  again,  for  he  wrote  the  letter  himself," 
cried  she,  through  her  tears. 

"  That's  the  way !  All  you  women  are  milksops  I "  exclaimed 
I^ctya,  marching  with  long,  gallant  strides  up  and  down  the 

*  Tyatenka,  goMbushka. 

t  DMenka  {little  $oul)gol}ib€hik,  mdaya  (dear),  p^eik  (peach). 


282  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

room.  "  I  am  very  glad,  more  glad  than  I  can  tell,  that  my 
brother  has  distinguished  himself  so !  You  are  all  cry-babies. 
You  haven't  any  sense  at  all." 

Natasha  smiled  through  her  tears, — 

"  You  haven't  read  the  letter,  have  you  ?  " 

'<  No,  I  haven't  read  it,  but  she  said  the  worst  was  over,  and 
that  he  was  already  an  officer." 

"Glory  to  God!"  cried  Sonya,  crossing  herself.  "But 
maybe  she  was  deceiving  you.     Let  us  go  to  maman  /  " 

Petya  walked  silently  up  and  down  the  room. 

"  If  I  had  been  in  Nikolushka's  place,  I  should  have  killed 
still  more  of  those  Frenchmen,"  said  he,  after  a  little  ;  "what 
nasty  brutes  they  are  !  I  would  have  killed  such  a  lot  of  them 
that  it  would  have  made  a  pile  so  high,"  continued  Tetya. 

"  Hush,  Petya !  what  a  goose  you  are ! " 

"  I  am  not  a  goose,  but  you  are  geese  to  cry  over  mere  trifles ! " 
said  he. 

"  Do  you  remember  him  ?  "  suddenly  asked  Natasha,  after  a 
moment's  silence. 

Sonya  smiled :  "  Do  I  remember  Nicolas  ?  " 

"  No,  Sonya.  Do  you  remember  him  perfectly,  so  that  you 
can  recall  everything  about  him  ?  "  ^ked  Natasha,  with  an 
emphatic  gesture,  evidently  wishing  to  give  her  words  the 
most  serious  meaning. 

"  Well,  now,  I  remember  Nikolenka,  I  remember  him  well; 
but  I  don't  remember  Boris.     I  don't  remember  him  at  all." 

"  What  ?  You  don't  remember  Boris ! "  exclaimed  Sonya, 
in  amazement. 

"No,  I  don't  really  remember  him.  I  have  a  general  idea 
how  he  looked,  but  I  can't  bring  him  up  before  me,  as  I  can 
Nikolenka.  If  I  shut  my  eyes  I  can  see,  but  it  is  not  so  with 
Boris."     She  shut  her  eyes.     "  That  way,  no,  not  at  all." 

"  Oh,  Natasha,"  said  Sonya,  looking  at  her  friend,  with  en- 
raptured earnestness,  as  though  she  considered  her  unworthy 
to  hear  what  she  had  in  mind  to  say,  and  as  though  she  were 
saying  it  to  some  one  else,  with  whom  it  was  impossible  to  jest 
"  I  love  your  brother,  and  whatever  might  happen  to  him  or  to 
me,  I  should  never  cease  to  love  him  as  long  as  I  live  !  " 

Natasha  looked  at  Sonya  with  wondering  inquisitive  eyes, 
and  made  no  answer.  She  felt  convinced  that  what  Sonya 
had  said  was  true ;  that  what  Sonya  talked  about  was  real 
love;  but  Natasha  had  never  experienced  anything  like  it 
She  believed  that  it  was  in  the  realm  of  the  possible,  but  she 
could  not  understand  it. 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  283 

"Shall  you  write  Kim  ?  "  she  asked. 

Sonya  deliberated. 

The  question  how  to  write  to  Nicolas,  and  whether  it  were 
her  duty  to  write  to  him,  and  what  she  should  write  to  him, 
tormented  her.  Now  that  he  were  already  an  officer,  and  a 
wounded  hero,  it  was  a  question  of  doubt  in  her  mind,  whether 
it  would  be  right  for  her  to  remind  him  of  herself,  and  of  the 
promise  which  he  had  made  her. 

"  I  do  not  know.  I  think  if  he  writes  to  me,  then  I  will 
answer  it,"  she  replied,  blushing. 

"  And  sha'n't  you  feel  ashamed  to  write  him  ?  " 

Sonya  smiled, — 

«No/' 

"  Well,  I  should  feel  ashamed  to  write  to  Boris,  and  I  am 
not  going  to." 

"Why  should  one  feel  ashamed  ?" 

"There  now,  I'm  sure  I  don't  know.  It's  awkward,  anyway. 
I  should  be  "— 

"  Well,  I  know  why  she  would  be  ashamed,"  said  Petya,  af- 
fronted at  Natasha's  first  remark  :  "  Because  she  fell  in  love 
with  that  fat  fellow  with  the  glasses  (he  meant  by  this  his 
namesake.  Pierre,  the  new  Count  Bezukhoi),  and  now  she's  in 
lore  with  that  singer  (Petya  now  referred  to  an  Italian,  who 
was  giving  Natasha  singing  lessons),  and  that's  why  she  would 
be  ashamed ! " 

"  Petya,  you're  too  silly." 

"  I'm  no  sillier  than  you  are,  mdttishka  f  "  said  the  ten-year 
old  lad,  exactly  as  though  he  were  an  elderly  brigadier. 

The  countess  had  been  "  pre])ared  "  during  dinner  time  by 
means  of  Anna  Mikhailovna's  hints.  Going  to  her  own  room, 
she  sat  down  on  her  sofa,  not  taking  her  eyes  from  a  minia- 
ture picture  of  her  son,  painted  on  her  snuff-box,  and  her 
eyes  quickly  filled  with  tears.  Anna  Mikhailovna,  with  the 
letter,  came  into  the  countess's  room  on  her  tiptoes  and  re- 
mained standing.  "  Don't  you  come  in,"  said  she  to  the  old 
count,  who  was  following  her.  She  closed  the  door  behind 
her.  The  count  applied  his  ear  to  the  keyhole  and  tried  to 
listen. 

At  first  all  that  he  heard  was  a  monotonous  sound  of  voices ; 
then  Anna  Mikhailovna,  making  a  long  speech  without  inter- 
ruption ;  then  a  shriek  ;  then  silence  ;  then,  again,  both  voices 
speaking  together  with  joyful  inflections,  and  then  steps,  and 
Anna  Mikhailovna  opened  the  door.  Anna  Mikhailovna's  face 
wore  the  proud  expression  of  a  surgical  operator,  who  has  just 


284  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

accomplished  a  difficult  amputation   afld  allows  the  public 
to  enter  and  appreciate  his  skill. 

"  C^est  fait  —  it's  all  right,"  said  she  to  the  count,  pointing 
with  an  enthusiastic  gesture  to  the  countess,  who  held  in  one 
hand  the  snuff-box  with  the  portrait,  in  the  other  the  letter, 
and  was  pressing  her  lips  first  to  the  one  and  then  to  the  other. 
Seeing  the  count,  she  stretched  out  her  hand  toward  him,  em- 
braced his  bald  head,  and  over  his  bald  head  looked  at  the  let- 
ter and  the  portrait,  and  then,  in  order  to  press  them  to  her 
lips  again,  gently  pushed  the  bald  head  away. 

Viera,  Natasha,  Sonya,  and  Petya  came  into  the  room,  and 
the  reading  of  the  letter  began.  It  contained  a  brief  descrip- 
tion of  the  campaign,  and  the  two  engagements  in  which  Niko- 
lushka  had  taken  part ;  he  announced  his  promotion,  and  said 
that  he  kissed  ma  man  and  papa*s  hands,  asking  for  their  bless- 
ing, and  kissed  Viera,  Natasha,  and  Petya.  Moreover,  he 
made  his  respects  to  Mr.  Schelling  and  Madame  Chausse,  and 
his  old  nurse,  and  then  he  begged  them  to  kiss  his  dear  Sonya, 
whom  he  had  always  loved  so,  and  whom  he  had  remembered 
so  affectionately. 

When  Sonya  heard  this,  she  blushed  so  that  the  tears  came 
into  her  eyes.  And,  not  able  to  endure*  the  glances  fastened 
on  her,  she  ran  into  the  drawing  parlor,  whirled  around  it  at 
full  speed,  her  dress  flying  out  like  a  balloon,  and  then  plumped 
down  on  the  floor,  all  flushed  and  smiling.  The  countess 
melted  into  tears  "  What  makes  you  cry,  maman  ?  "  asked 
Viera.  ^^  Everything  that  he  writes  seems  to  me  a  cause  for 
rejoicing,  and  not  for  weeping  ! " 

This  was  perfectly  true,  but,  nevertheless,  the  count  and  the 
countess,  and  Natasha,  all  looked  at  her  reproachfully. 

"  Whom  is  she  like,  I  wonder  ! "  said  the  countess,  to  her- 
self. 

Nikolushka's  letter  was  re-read  a  hundred  times,  and  those 
who  felt  themselves  entitled  to  hear  it  had  to  go  to  the  coun- 
tess, who  would  not  let  it  out  of  her  hands.  The  tutors  cajne, 
and  the  nurses,  and  Mitenka,  and  ever  so  many  acquaintances, 
and  the  countess  read  the  letter  to  them  each  time  with 
new  delight,  each  time  discovering  new  virtues  in  her  Niko- 
lushka.  How  strange,  marvellous,  and  beautiful  it  was  to  her 
that  her  son  —  that  son,  the  almost  imperceptible  motions  of 
whose  tiny  limbs  she  had  felt  twenty  years  before,  that  son 
over  whom  she  had  quarrelled  with  the  count  for  spoiling  him, 
that  son  who  had  learned  to  say  grusha  first  and  then  baha  — 
that  this  same  son  was  now  far  away  in  a  foreign  land,  in  for- 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  285 

eign  surronndings,  a  heroic  soldier,  alone  without  help  or  guid- 
ance, performing  there  his  part  in  the  deeds  of  heroes.  The 
universal  experience  of  the  world  in  all  ages,  going  to  show 
that  children  by  imperceptible  steps  march  from  the  cradle 
into  manhood,  was  not  realized  by  the  countess.  The  attain- 
ment of  manhood  by  her  son  was  at  every  step  as  extraordi- 
nary as  though  there  had  not  been  millions  u])on  millions  of 
men  who  had  gone  through  exactly  the  same  process.  Just 
as  twenty  years  before  it  had  been  almost  impossible  for  her 
to  believe  that  the  mysterious  little  being  that  was  living  and 
moving  somewhere  under  her  heart  would  ever  wail  and  nurse 
and  learn  to  talk,  so  now,  it  was  incredible  that  this  same 
being  had  become  a  strong,  gallant  man,  the  paragon  of  sons 
and  of  men,  such  as  he  was  now,  judging  by  his  letter. 

"What  a  style  he  has !  How  elegantly  he  expresses 
himself,"  said  she,  as  she  read  over  the  descriptive  por- 
tions of  the  letter.  "  And  how  much  soul !  Nothing  al)out 
himself,  nothing  at  all !  Something  about  that  Denisof,  but 
he  -himself  must  have  been  braver  than  all  the  rest !  He 
writes  nothing  at  all  about  his  sufferings  !  How  much  heart 
he  has !  How  well  I  know  him  !  And  how  kindly  he  remem- 
bers all  the  household !  He  did  not  forget  a  single  one  ! 
Bat  I  always  said  it  of  him,  even  when  he  was  ever  so  little  — 
I  always  said  it." 

For  more  than  a  week  rough  drafts  of  letters  to  Niko- 
lushka  were  prepared  and  written  and  coi)ied  out  on  white 
paper  by  the  whole  family  under  the  superintendence  of  the 
countess  and  the  zealous  care  of  the  count,  all  sorts  of  neces- 
saiy  articles  were  made  into  a  parcel,  together  with  money  for 
the  new  uniform,  and  the  installation  of  the  newly -appointed 
oiBcer. 

Anna  Mikhailovna,  a  practical  woman,  had  been  shrewd 
enough  to  secure  for  her  son  a  protector  in  the  army,  even  for 
the  better  forwarding  of  correspondence.  She  had  managed 
to  find  the  opportunity  of  sending  her  letters  in  care  of  the 
Grand  Duke  Konstantine  Pavlovitch,  who  commanded  the 
guards.  The  Rostofs  had  supposed  that  Bitsskai/a  Gvardiya 
SM  Granitsei — the  Russian  guard  on  service  abroad  —  was  a 
sufficiently  definite  address,  and  that  if  a  letter  reached  the 
grand  duke  commanding  the  guards,  then  there  was  no  reason 
why  it  should  not  reach  the  Pavlograd  regiment,  which  must 
be  somewhere  near,  and  therefore  it  was  decided  to  be  best  to 
send  the  packet  and  the  money  by  the  grand  duke's  courier  to 
Boris,  and  Boris   would  see  to  it  that  it  was  put  in  Niko- 


286  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

lushka's  hands.  There  were  letters  from  the  old  count,  from 
the  countess,  from  Petya,  from  Viera,  from  Natasha,  from 
Sonya,  and  finally  six  thousand  rubles  for  his  outfit,  and  various 
things  which  the  count  wished  to  send  him. 


CHAPTER  VIL 

On  the  twenty-fourth  of  November,  Kutuzofs  fighting 
army,  bivouacked  near  Olratltz,  made  ready  to  be  reviewed  on 
the  following  day  by  the  Emperor  of  Russia  and  the  Emperor 
of  Austria.  The  Imperial  Guards  which  had  just  arrived 
from  Russia  encamped  about  fifteen  versts  from  OlmUtz,  and 
on  the  next  day  were  to  proceed  directly  to  the  review,  which 
would  take  place  about  ten  o'clock  in  the  morning,  on  the 
parade  ground  at  Olratltz.  Nikolai  Rostof  on  that  day  had 
received  a  note  from  Boris  informing  him  that  the  Izmailovsky 
regiment  was  going  to  encamp  about  fifteen  versts  away,  and 
that  he  wanted  to  see  him  to  give  him  some  letters  and  some 
money.  The  money  came  particularly  handy  to  Rostof  just 
now,  when,  after  the  toils  of  the  campaign,  the  army  had 
settled  down  at  OlmUtz,  and  well-provided  sutlers  and  Aus- 
trian Jews,  offering  all  sorts  of  enticements,  infested  the 
camp.  The  Favlograd  warriors  enjoyed  banquet  after  ban- 
quet, celebrated  in  honor  of  promotions  won  during  the  cam- 
paign, as  well  as  excursions  into  town  where  Karolina,  called 
Vengerka,  or  the  Hungarian,  had  recently  opened  a  tavern, 
at  which  all  the  waiters  were  girls. 

Rostof  had  just  celebrated  his  promotion  from  yunker  to 
cornet,  had  bought  Denisof  s  horse  Beduin,  and  was  in  debt  to 
his  comrades  and  the  sutlers  on  every  side.  On  receipt  of  the 
note  from  Boris,  Rostof  rode  into  Olmtltz  with  some  comrades, 
dined  there,  drank  a  bottle  of  wine,  and  rode  off  alone  to 
the  Guards'  camp  to  find  the  friend  and  companion  of  his 
youth, 

Rostof  had  not  as  yet  had  a  chance  to  procure  his  new  uni- 
form. He  wore  a  soiled  yunker's  jacket,  with  a  private's  cross, 
his  ordinary  well-worn  leather-seated  riding  trousers,  and  an 
officer's  sabre  with  tlie  sword  knot ;  the  horse  which  he  rode, 
was  a  Don  pony  whioh  lie  had  bought  during  the  campaign,  of 
a  Cossack  ;  his  cruiiiphHl  cap  was  rakishly  set  side  wise  on  the 
back  of  his  head. 

When  he  reached  the  camp  of  the  Izmailovsky  regiment, 
he  thought  how  much  he  should  surprise  Boris  and  all  bis 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  287 

comrades  of  the  Guard  by  appearing  before  them  like  a  veteran 
who  had  been  under  fire. 

The  Guard  had  made  the  whole  campaign,  as  though  it  were 
a  picnic,  making  a  great  display  of  their  neatness  and  disci- 
pline. Their  marches  had  been  short,  their  knapsacks  had 
been  transported  on  the  baggage  wagons,  and  the  ofticers  had 
been  given  splendid  entertainments  at  every  halting-place  by 
the  Austrian  authorities.  The  regiments  entered  and  left  the 
cities  with  music  playing,  and  during  the  whole  campaign, 
much  to  the  pride  of  the  Guard,  the  men  had  marched  in 
serried  ranks,  keeping  step,  while  the  officers,  mounted,  rode 
in  their  places  of  assignment. 

Boris  during  the  whole  campaign  had  marched  and  halted 
with  Berg  who  had  now  risen  to  be  rdtnui  kamandir  or  captain. 
Berg  having  been  given  a  company,  had  succeeded  by  his 
promptness  and  punctuality  in  w^inning  the  good  will  of  his 
superiors,  and  his  financial  affairs  were  now  in  very  good 
shape.  Boris  had  made  many  acquaintances  with  men  who 
might  be  of  service  to  him,  and  by  means  of  a  letter  of  intro- 
daction  given  him  by  Pierre,  had  become  acquainted  with 
Prince  Andrei  Bolkonsky,  through  whom  he  hoped  to  obtain 
a  place  on  the  staff  of  the  commander-in-chief. 

Berg  and  Boris,  neatly  and  elegantly  dressed,  were  resting 
after  tiieir  day's  journey,  and  seated  in  a  neat  room  that  had 
been  made  ready  for  them,  were  playing  checkers  at  a  small 
round  table.  Berg  held  between  his  knees  the  pipe,  which  he 
was  smoking.  Boris  with  the  carefulness  characteristic  of 
him,  had  piled  up  the  checkers  in  pyramidal  form  with  his 
delicate  white  fingers,  and  was  waiting  for  Berg's  move,  and 
looking  at  his  opponent's  face,  evidently  thinking  only  of  the 
game,  just  as  he  always  thought  only  of  what  occupied  him 
at  the  moment. 

"  There  now,  how  will  you  get  out  of  that  ?  "  he  asked. 

"We'll  do  our  best,"  replied  Berg,  touching  a  king,  and 
then  dropping  his  hand  again. 

At  this  moment  the  door  opened. 

"  Ah,  there  he  is  at  last,"  cried  Eostof .  "  And  Berg  here, 
too !  Ah  you  petizanfan  ale  kushe  dormir !  "  he  cried,  quot- 
iiig  the  words  of  their  old  nurse,  in  which  he  and  Boris 
always  found  great  amusement. 

"  Batyushki !     How  you  have  changed  1 " 

Boris  arose  to  meet  Bostof,  but  as  he  did  so  he  took  pains 
to  pick  up  and  replace  the  checkers  that  had  fallen,  and  he 
was  about  to  embrace  his  friend,  but  Nikolai  slipped  out  of 


288  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

his  grasp.  With  that  feeling  peculiar  to  youth,  which  sug- 
gests the  avoidance  of  beaten  paths,  and  the  expression  of 
feelings  like  every  one  else,  and  especially  that  often  hypocrit- 
ical fashion  which  obtains  with  our  elders^  Nikolai  wanted  to 
do  something  unusual  and  original,  on  the  occasion  of  meet- 
ing his  friends ;  he  wanted  to  give  Boris  a  pinch  or  a  push, 
anything  except  kiss  him,  as  was  universally  done. 

Boris,  on  the  contrary,  threw  his  arms  around  Bostof  in  a 
composed  and  friendly  fashion,  and  kissed  him  three  times. 
They  had  not  met  for  almost  six  months,  and  in  such  an  inter- 
val when  young  men  have  been  taking  their  first  steps  on  the 
pathway  of  life,  each  finds  in  the  other  tremendous  changes, 
due  to  surroundings  so  entirely  different  from  those  in  which 
they  had  taken  the  first  steps  of  life.  Both  had  changed 
greatly  since  they  had  last  met,  and  each  was  equally  anxious 
to  show  the  other  the  changes  that  they  had  undergone. 

"  Oh  !  you  cursed  dandies  !  Spruce  and  shiny,  just  in  from 
a  promenade !  Not  much  like  us  poor  sinners  of  the  Line!" 
exclaimed  Kostof,  with  baritone  notes  in  his  voice,  and  with 
brusque  army  manners,  quite  new  to  Boris,  and  he  exhibited 
his  own  dirty  and  bespattered  trousers.  On  hearing  Rostof  s 
loud  voice,  the  Grerman  mistress  of  the  house  put  her  head  in 
through  the  door. 

"  Rather  pretty,  hey  ?  "  cried  Nikolai,  with  a  wink. 

"What  makes  you  shout  so  ?  You  will  scare  them  ! "  said 
Boris.  "  I  wasn't  expecting  you  to-day,"  he  added.  "  It  was 
only  this  afternoon  tnat  I  sent  my  note  to  you  through  an 
acquaintance  of  mine,  Kutuzof  s  adjutant,  Bolkonsky.  I  didn't 
think  of  its  reaching  you  so  soon.  Well,  how  are  you  ?  Been 
under  tire  already,  have  you  ?  "  asked  Boris. 

Rostof  said  nothing  in  reply,  but  shook  the  Georgievsky 
cross  on  the  lace  of  his  coat,  and  pointing  to  his  arm  which  he 
carried  in  a  sling,  looked  at  Berg  with  a  smile. 

"  As  you  see,"  said  he. 

"Well,  well,  so  you  have!"  returned  Boris  with  a  smile, 
"and  we  also  have  had  a  glorious  campaign.  You  know  his 
imperial  highness  was  most  of  the  time  near  our  regiment,  so 
that  we  had  all  sorts  of  privileges  and  advantages.  What 
receptions  we  had  in  Poland,  what  dinners  and  balls !  I  can*t 
begin  to  tell  you !  And  the  Tsesarevitch*  was  very  courteous 
to  all  of  us  officers." 

Then  the  two  friends  related  their  experiences ;  the  one  tell- 
ing of  the  jolly  good  times  with  the  hussars,  and  his  campaign 

*  The  crown  prinoe. 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  289 

life;  the   other  of  the  pleasures  and  advantages  of  serving 
under  the  direct  command  of  men  high  in  authority  and  so  on. 

"  Oh,  you  guardsmen  ! "  cried  B-ostof .  "  But  come  now, 
send  out  for  some  wine." 

Boris  scowled ;  "  Certainly,  if  you  really  wish  it,"  and  going 
to  his  couch  he  took  out  from  under  the  clean  pillow  a  purse, 
and  ordered  his  man  to  hring  wine.  "  Oh,  yes,  and  I  will 
deliver  over  to  you  some  letters  and  your  money,"  he  added. 

Rostof  took  his  packet  and  flinging  the  money  on  the  sofa, 
leaned  both  elbows  on  the  table  and  began  to  read.  He  read 
a  few  lines  and  then  gave  Berg  a  wrathful  glance.  Berg's 
eyes  fastened  upon  him  annoyed  him,  and  he  shielded  his  face 
with  the  letter. 

"  \Yell,  they've  sent  you  a  good  lot  of  money,"  exclaimed 
Berg,  glancing  at  the  heavy  purse,  half  buried  in  the  sofa. 
"  And  here  we  have  to  live  on  our  salaries,  count !  now  I  will 
tell  you  about  myself." 

" Look  here,  Berg,  my  dear  fellow,"  said  Rostof,  "When  I 
find  you  with  a  letter  just  received  from  home,  and  with  a 
man  with  whom  you  want  to  talk  about  all  sorts  of  things,  I 
will  instantly  leave  you,  so  as  not  to  disturb  you.  Hear 
what  1  say,  get  you  gone  anywhere,  anywhere ;  to  the  devil," 
he  cried,  and  then  seizing  him  by  the  shoulder  and  giving  him 
an  affectionate  look  fxill  in  the  face,  evidently  for  the  purpose 
of  modifying  the  rudeness  of  his  words,  he  added,  "Now  see 
here,  don't  be  angry  with  me,  my  dear  heart,*  I  speak  frankly 
becaase  you  are  an  old  acquaintance." 

"  Akh  !  for  heaven's  sake,  count !  I  understand  perfectly," 
said  Berg,  getting  up  and  swallowing  down  his  throaty  voice. 

"  Go  and  see  our  hosts ;  they  have  invited  you,"  suggested 
Boris. 

Berg  put  on  his  immaculate,  neat,  and  dustless  coat,  went 
to  the  mirror,  brushed  the  hair  up  from  his  temples,  after  the 
style  of  the  emperor,  Alexander  Pavlovitch,  and,  being  per- 
soaded  by  Rostof  s  looks  that  his  coat  was  noticeable,  left  the 
room  witn  a  smile  of  satisfaction. 

"Akh !  what  a  brute  I  am,  though  ! "  exclaimed  Rostof,  read- 
ing the  letter. 
"What  now?" 

"  Akh !  what  a  pig  I  am,  that  I  did  not  write  them  sooner, 
and  frightened  them  so  !  Akh !  what  a  pig  I  am ! "  he  repeated, 
suddenly  reddening.  "  Well,  you've  sent  Gavrilo  for  wine,  have 
you  ?    Very  good,  we'll  have  a  drink  ! "  said  he. 

♦  Qolubchik, 
VOL.  1.  — 19. 


290  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

Among  the  home  letters,  there  was  inclosed  a  note  of  lecom- 
mendation  to  Prince  Bagration,  which  the  old  coimtess  at 
Anna  Mikhailovna^s  suggestion  obtained  from  some  acquaint- 
ance, and  sent  to  her  son.  urging  him  to  present  it  and  get  all 
the  advantage  that  he  could  from  it. 

"  What  nonsense !  Much  I  need  this  ! "  said  Rostof,  fling- 
ing the  letter  on  the  table. 

"  Why  did  you  throw  it  down  ?  "  asked  Boris. 

"  Oh !  it  was  a  letter  of  suggestion ;  what  the  deuce  do  I 
want  of  such  a  letter !  " 

"  Why  do  you  say  that  ?  "  asked  Boris,  picking  up  the  let- 
ter and  reading  the  inscription ;  "  this  letter  might  be  veiy 
useful  to  you." 

''  I  don* t  need  anything,  and  I  don't  care  to  become  any 
one's  adjutant ! " 

"  Why  not,  pray  ?  "  asked  Boris. 

"  It's  a  lackey's  place  ! " 

"  You  still  have  the  same  queer  notions,  I  see,"  rejoined  Boris, 
shaking  his  head. 

"  And  you're  the  same  old  diplomat.  However,  that's  not 
to  the  point.     How  are  you  ?  "  asked  Rostof. 

"  Just  exactly  as  3'ou  see !  So  far,  all  has  gone  well  with 
me.  But  I  confess  I  should  very  much  like  to  be  made  an  ad- 
jutant, and  not  stick  to  the  line." 

"  Why  ?  " 

"  Because,  having  once  entered  upon  the  profession  of  arms, 
it  is  best  to  make  one's  career  as  brilliant  as  possible." 

"  Yes,  that's  true,"  said  Rostof,  evidently  thinking  of  some-, 
thing  else.  He  gave  his  friend  a  steady,  inquiring  look,  evi- 
dently trying  in  vain  to  find  in  his  eyes  the  answer  to  some 
puzzling  question. 

Old  Gavrilo  brought  the  wine.        v 

"  Hadn't  wo  IxHter  send  now  for  Alphonse  Rarluitch  ? " 
asked  Boris.     "  He  will  drink  with  you,  for  I  can't." 

"  Yes,  do  send  for  him  !  But  who  is  this  Dutchman  ?  "  asked 
RostoJ,  with  a  scornful  smile. 

"  He's  a  very,  very  nice,  honorable  and  pleasant  man,"  ex- 
plained Boris. 

Rostof  once  more  looked  steadily  into  Boris's  eyes  and  sighed. 
Berg  came  back,  and  over  the  bottle  of  wine,  the  conversation 
between  the  three  officer's  grew  more  lively.  The  two  guards- 
men told  Rostof  of  their  march,  and  how  they  had  been  honored 
in  Russia,  Poland,  and  abroad.  They  told  about  the  sayings 
and  doings  of  their  commander,  the  grand  duke,  together  with 
anecdotes  about  his  goodness  and  irascibility. 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  291 

Berg,  as  usual,  kept  silent  when  there  was  nothing  that  spe- 
cially concerned  himself,  but  when  they  began  to  speak  about 
the  goodness  and  irascibility  of  the  grand  duke,  he  told  with 
great  gusto,  how  in  Galicia,  he  happened  to  have  a  talk  with 
the  grand  duke.     The  grand  duke  was  making  the  tour  of  the 
regiment,  and  became  very  angry  at  the  disorderly  state  of  the 
division.     With  a  smile  of  complacency  on  his  face.  Berg  told 
how  the  grand  duke,  in  a  great  state  of  vexation,  came  up  to 
it  and  shouted ;  "  Amautuiy  *  villains,"  being  a  favorite  term  of 
abuse  when  he  was  vexed,  and  called  the  company  commander. 
"  Would  you  believe  it,  count,  I  was  not  in  the  least  scared, 
because  I  knew  that  I  was  all  right.     And,  count,  I  may  say 
without  boasting,  that  I  knew  all  the  regulatioijs  by  heart,  and 
the  standing  orders  as  well ;  knew  them  just  as  well  as  *  Our 
Father  in  Heaven.'     And  so,  count,  in  my  company,  there  was 
no  complaint  to  be  made  of  negligence.    And  that  was  the 
reason  of  my  being  so  composed  and  having  such  an  untroubled 
conscience.     I  stepped  forward,"  here  Berg  stood  up  and  repre- 
sented in  pantomime  how  he  had  raised  his  hand  to  his  visor 
as  he  stepped  forward.     Eeally,  it  would  have  been  hard  to 
imagine  a  face  more    expressive  of  deference  and  self-suffi- 
ciency.    "  Oh  how  he  scolded  me,  rated  me,  you  might  say, 
rated  and  rated  and  rated  mortally — 'not  for  life,  but  for 
death,'  as  the  Eussisins  say,  and  called  me  an  Arnaut  and  a 
devil,  and  threatened  me  with  Siberia,"  proceeded  Berg,  with 
a  shrewd  smile.     "  But  I  knew  that  I  was  in  the  right,  and  so 
I  made  no  reply  ;  wasn't  that  best,  count  ?     *  What !  are  you 
dumb?'  he  cried.     Still   I  hold  my  tongue.     What  do  you 
think  of  that,  count  ?     On  the  next  day,  there  was  nothing  at 
all  about  it  in  the  general  orders :  that's  what  comes  of  not 
losing  one's  wits.     Isn't  that  so,  count  ? "  demanded  Berg, 
lighting  his  pipe,  and  sending  out  rings  of  smoke. 

"Yes,  that's  splendid,"  said  Rostof,  with  a  smile ;  but  Boris, 
perceiving  that  Rostof  was  all  ready  to  poke  fun  at  Berg, 
adroitly  changed  the  conversation.  He  asked  Rostof  to  tell 
them  how  and  where  he  had  been  wounded. 

This  quite  suited  the  young  man,  and  he  began  to  give  a 
circumstantial  account  of  it,  growing  more  and  more  animated 
all  the  time. 
He  described  his  action  at  Schongraben  exactly  in  the  way 

*  Arnautka  is  the  South  Russian  name  for  a  kind  of  hard  wheat,  probably 
derived  from  an  Albanian  tribe,  Arnaut,  which  is  also  the  name  of  a  portion 
of  the  arinv  in  Turkey,  composed  of  Chriatiaiis ;  hence  a  tc*rm  of  reproach  ; 
**  abortion/*  "  a  savage,"  **  a  bnrsurman  (mussalman,  unbeliever)." 


292  WAB  AND  PEACE. 

that  those  who  take  part  in  battles  always  describe  them ;  that 
isy  in  the  way  that  they  would  be  glad  to  have  had  them  hap- 
pen, so  that  his  story  agreed  with  all  the  other  accounts  of  the 
participants,  but  was  very  far  from  being  the  exact  truth. 

Rostof  was  a  truthful  young  man ;  not  for  anything  in  the 
world  would  he  have  deliberately  told  a  falsehood.  He  began 
with  the  intention  of  telling  it  exactly  as  it  happened,  but  im- 
perceptibly, involuntarily,  and  unavoidably,  as  far  as  he  was 
concerned,  he  fell  into  falsehood.  If  he  had  told  the  truth  to 
these  listeners  of  his,  who  had  already  heard  from  others,  just 
as  he  himself  had  many  times,  the  story  of  the  charge,  and  had 
formed  a  definite  idea  of  how  the  charge  was  made,  and  ex- 
pected a  substantially  similar  account  of  it  from  him,  either 
they  would  not  have  believed  him,  or,  what  would  have  been 
worse,  they  would  have  come  to  the  conclusion  that  Rostof 
was  himself  to  blame  for  it,  and  that  he  had  not  undergone 
what  he  claimed  to  have  undergone,  since  it  did  not  agree  with 
what  is  usually  related  of  cavalry  charges. 

He  could  not  tell  them  in  so  many  words,  that  they  had  all 
started  on  the  trot,  that  he  had  fallen  from  his  horse,  sprained 
his  arm,  and  run  away  from  the  Frenchmen  with  all  his  might 
and  main,  into  the  forest.  Moreover,  in  order  to  tell  the  stoiy 
in  its  grim  reality,  he  would  have  been  obliged  to  exercise  much 
self-control  to  tell  only  what  had  occurred.  To  tell  the  truth 
is  very  hard,  and  young  men  are  rarely  capable  of  it.  It  was 
expected  of  him  to  tell  how  he  grew  excited  under  the  fire, 
and,  forgetting  everything,  had  dashed  like  a  whirlwind  against 
the  square,  how  he  had  cut  and  slashed  with  his  sabre  right 
and  left,  as  a  knife  cuts  cheese,  and  how  at  length  he  had 
fallen  from  exhaustion,  and  the  like.  And  that  was  what  he 
told  them. 

In  the  midst  of  his  tale,  just  as  he  was  saying  the  words, 
"  You  can't  imagine  what  a  strange  sensation  of  frenzy  you 
experience  during  a  charge,"  Prince  Andrei  Bolkonsky,  whom 
Boris  had  been  exi>ecting,  came  into  the  room. 

Prince  Andrei,  who  liked  to  bear  a  patronizing  relationship 
toward  young  men,  was  flattered  by  having  Boris  consigned  to 
his  protection,  and  was  very  well  disposed  toward  him.  Boris 
had  succeeded  in  making  a  pleasant  impression  upon  him,  and 
he  had  made  up  his  mind  to  nave  the  young  man's  desire  grati- 
fied. Being  sent  with  despatches  from  Kutuzof  to  the  Tsesare- 
vitch,  he  had  looked  up  his  young protegiy  expecting  to  find  him 
alone.  When  he  came  in  and  found  there  a  hussar  of  the  Line, 
relating  his  military  experiences,  a  sort  of  individual  whom 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  298 

the  prince  could  not  endure,  he  gave  Boris  an  affectionate  smile, 
scowled  at  Kostof,  half  closing  his  eyes,  and  with  a  stiff  little 
bow,  took  his  seat  wearily  and  indifferently,  on  the  sofa. 

He  was  disgusted  at  finding  himself  in  uncongenial  society. 

Rofitof,  feeling  this  instinctively,  instantly  took  fire.  But 
it  was  all  the  same  to  the  prince :  this  was  a  stranger. 

He  looked  at  Boris,  and  saw  that  he  seemed  to  be  ashamed 
of  being  in  company  with  a  hussar  of  the  Line.  Notwithstand- 
ing Prince  Andrei's  disagreeable,  mocking  tone,  notwith- 
standing the  general  scorn,  which,  from  his  point  of  view,  as  a 
hussar  of  the  Line,  Eostof  shared  for  staff  adjutants,  to  which 
number  evidently  belonged  the  gentleman  who  had  just  entered, 
Rostof  felt  overwhelmed  with  confusion,  reddened,  and  grew 
silent.  Boris  asked  what  was  the  news  at  headquarters,  and 
whether  it  were  indiscretion  for  him  to  inquire  about  our  future 
movements. 

"Probably  shall  advance,"  replied  Bolkonsky,  evidently 
not  wishing  to  commit  himself  further  in  the  presence  of 
strangers.  Berg  took  advantage  of  his  opportunity  to  ask 
with  his  usual  politeness,  whether  it  were  true,  as  he  had 
heard,  that  double  rations  of  forage  were  to  be  supplied  to 
eaptains  of  the  line. 

At  this  Prince  Andrei  smiled,  and  replied  that  he  could  not 
give  an  opinion  in  regard  to  such  important  questions  of  state, 
and  Berg  laughed  heartily  with  delight. 

"In  regard  to  that  matter  of  yours,"  said  Prince  Andrei,  turn- 
ing to  Boris,  again,  "  we  will  talk  about  it  by  and  by,"  and  he 
glanced  at  Rostof.  "  You  come  to  me  after  the  review ;  we 
will  do  all  that  is  in  our  power."  And  glancing  around  the 
room,  he  addressed  himself -to  Rostof,  pretending  not  to  notice 
his  state  of  childish  confusion,  which  was  rapidly  assuming 
the  form  of  ill-temper.     Said  "he, — 

"I  suppose  you  were  telling  about  the  affair  at  Schon- 
giaben  ?    Were  you  there  ?  " 

"  Certainly,  I  was  there,"  spitefully  replied  Rostof,  as  though 
desiring  by  his  tone  to  insult  the  adjutant.  Bolkonsky  noticed 
the  hussar's  state  of  mind,  and  it  seemed  to  him  amusing.  A 
scornful  smile  played  lightly  over  his  lips. 

"  Yes,  there  are  many  stories  afloat  now  about  that  affair !  " 

"Stories,  indeed!"  exclaimed  Rostof,  in  a  loud  voice,  turn- 
ing his  angry  eyes  on  Boris  and  Bolkonsky.  "Yes,  many 
stories ;  but  the  stories  we  tell  are  the  accounts  of  those  who 
were  under  the  hottest  fire  of  the  enemy.  Our  accounts  have 
some  weight;  and  are  very  different  from  the  stories  of  those 


294  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

sta£F  officers,  milk  snckers,  wlio  win  rewards  bj  doing  noth- 
ing/' 

^  By  which  yon  mean  to  insinuate  that  I  am  one  of  them  ?  ^ 
demanded  Prince  Andrei,  with  a  calm  and  very  pleasant  smile. 

A  strange  feeling  of  anger  and  at  the  same  time  of  respect 
for  the  dignity  of  this  stranger  were  at  this  moment  united  in 
Bostofs  mind. 

"  I  was  not  speaking  of  you,"  said  he.  "  I  do  not  know  you, 
and  I  confess  I  have  no  desire  to  know  you.  I  merely  made 
a  general  remark  concerning  staff  officers." 

"  And  I  will  say  this  much  to  you,"  said  Prince  Andrei,  in- 
terrupting him,  a  tone  of  calm  superiority  ringing  in  his  yoice. 
'^  You  wish  to  insult  me,  and  I  am  ready  to  have  a  settlement 
with  you,  it  being  very  easy  to  bring  about,  if  you  have  not  suffi- 
cient self-respect ;  but  you  must  agree  with  me  that  the  time 
and  place  are  exceedingly  unpropitious  for  any  such  settlement 
We  are  all  soon  to  take  part  in  a  great  and  far  more  serious 
duel,  and  moreover,  Drubetskoi  here,  who  says  that  he  is  an 
old  friend  of  yours,  cannot  be  held  accountable  for  the  fact 
that  my  face  was  unfortunate  enough  to  displease  you.  How- 
ever," he  went  on  to  say,  as  he  got  up,  "  You  know  my  name, 
and  you  know  where  to  find  me ;  but  don't  forget,"  he  added, 
"  that  I  consider  that  neither  I  nor  you  have  any  ground  for 
feeling  insulted,  and  my  advice,  as  a  man  older  than  you,  is 
not  to  let  this  matter  go  any  further.  Well,  Dnibetskoi,  on 
Friday,  after  the  review,  I  shall  expect  you;  au  reroir!^- 
cried  Prince  Andrei,  and  he  went  out  with  a  bow  to  both  of 
them. 

It  was  only  after  Prince  Andrei  had  left  the  room,  that  Ros- 
tof  remembered  what  reply  he  should  have  made.  And  he 
was  still  more  out  of  temper  because  he  had  not  had  the  wit 
to  say  it.  He  immediately  ordered  his  horse  brought  round, 
and  bidding  Boris  farewell  rather  dryly,  rode  off  to  his  own 
camp.  "  Should  he  go  next  day  to  headquarters  and  challenge 
this  captious  adjutant,  or  should  he  follow  his  advice  and  leave 
things  as  they  were  ?  "  That  was  the  question  that  tormented 
him  all  the  way.  At  one  moment,  he  angrily  imagined  how 
frightened  this  little,  feeble,  bumptious  man  would  look  when 
covered  by  his  pistol ;  the  next,  he  confessed  with  amazement, 
that  of  all  the  men  whom  he  knew,  there  was  none  whom  lie 
should  be  more  glad  to  have  as  his  friend,  than  this  same  de- 
testable adjutant. 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  295 


CHAPTER  Vin. 

On  the  day  following  the  meeting  of  Boris  and  Eostof,  oc- 
curred the  review  of  the  Austrian  and  Russian  troops,  includ- 
ing those  who  had  just  arrived  from  Russia,  as  well  as  those 
who  ha<l  ui  ide  the  campaign  with  Kutuzof.  Both  the  Emperor 
of  Russici,  with  the  tsesarevitch,  and  the  Emperor  of  Austria, 
with  the  archduke,  reviewed  this  army,  aggregating  eighty 
thousand  men. 

Early  in  the  morning,  the  soldiers,  elegantly  spruced  and 
attired,  began  to  move,  falling  into  line  in  front  of  the  fortress. 
Here  thousands  of  legs  and  bayonets  moved  along  with  stream- 
ing banners,  and  at  the  command  of  their  officers,  halted  or 
wheeled,  or  formed  into  detachments,  passing  by  other  similar 
bodies  of  infantry,  in  other  uniforms. 

There,  with  measured  hoof  beats  and  jingling  of  trappings 
came  the  cavalry  gayly  dressed  in  blue,  red,  and  green  em- 
broidered uniforms  with  gayly-dressed  musicians  ahead,  riding 
coal-black,  chestnut,  and  gray  horses. 

Yonder,  stretching  out  in  a  long  line,  with  their  polished 
shining  cannon,  jolting  with  a  brazen  din  on  their  carriages, 
and  with  the  smell  of  linstocks,  came  the  artillery  between  the 
infantry  and  cavalry,  and  drew  up  in  the  places  assigned  them. 
Not  only  the  generals  in  full  dress  uniform,  with  slender 
waists  or  stout  waists,  tightened  in  to  the  last  degree,  and 
with  red  necks  tightly  clasped  by  their  collars,  and  wearing 
their  scarfs  and  all  their  orders ;  not  only  the  officers,  pomaded 
and  decked  with  all  their  glories,  but  all  the  soldiers,  with  shin- 
ing, clean-washed  and  freshly  shaven  faces,  and  with  all  their 
appurtenances  polished  up  to  the  highest  lustre,  and  all  the 
horses  gayly  caparisoned  and  groomed  so  that  their  coats  were 
as  glossy  as  satin,  and  every  imdividual  hair  in  their  manes  in 
exactly  its  proper  place,  had  the  consciousness  that  something 
grave,  significant,  and  solemn  was  taking  place.  Every  general 
and  every  soldier  felt  his  own  insignificance,  counting  himself 
as  merely  a  grain  of  sand  in  this  sea  of  humanity,  and  at  the 
same  time  felt  his  power,  when  regarded  as  a  part  of  this 
mighty  whole. 

By  means  of  strenuous  efforts  and  devoted  energy,  the  prep- 
arations which  had  begun  early  in  the  morning  were  com- 
pleted by  ten  o'clock,  and  everything  was  in  proper  order. 
The    ranks  were  drawn  up  across  the  broad  parade  ground. 


296  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

The  whole  army  was  arranged  in  three  columns ;  in  front  the 
cavalry,  then  the  artillery,  and,  in  the  rear  the  infantry. 

Between  each  division  of  the  army  was  a  space  like  a 
street.  The  three  diivsions  of  this  army  were  sharply  con- 
trasted with  each  other;  Kutuzof's  war-worn  veterans  — 
among  whom  on  the  right  flank  in  the  front  row  stood  the 
Pavlogradsky  hussars  —  the  troops  of  the  Line  that  had  just 
arrived  from  Eussia^  and  the  regiments  of  the  Guard  and  the 
Austrian  army.  But  all  stood  in  one  line  under  one  com- 
mander, and  in  identical  order. 

Like  the  wind  rustling  the  leaves,  a  murmur  agitated  the 
lines:  "They  are  coming!  They  are  coming!"  Vivacious 
shouts  of  command  were  heard,  and  throughout  the  whole 
army,  like  a  wave,  ran  the  bustle  of  the  final  preparations. 

Far  away  in  front  of  them,  near  Olmtitz,  appeared  a  group 
coming  toward  them.  And  at  this  moment,  though  the  day 
was  calm,  a  gentle  breeze,  as  it  were,  stirred  the  army,  and 
seemed  to  shake  the  pennoned  pikes,  and  the  loosened  stand- 
ards clinging  to  their  staffs.  It  seemed  as  though  the  army 
itself  by  this  slight  tremor  expressed  its  gladness  at  the 
approach  of  the  emperors.  The  word  of  command  was  heard 
uttered  by  one  voice,  —  stn^mo,  eyes  front !  Then  like  the  an- 
swering of  cocks  at  daybreak,  many  voices  repeated  this  com- 
mand from  point  to  point,  and  all  grew  still. 

In  the  death-like  silence,  the  only  sound  heard  was  the 
trampling  of  horses'  feet.  This  was  the  suite  of  the  emperors. 
The  two  monarchs  rode  along  the  left  wing,  and  the  bugles  of 
the  First  Cavalry  Regiment  burst  forth  with  the  genemlr 
marsck.  It  seemed  as  if  it  were  not  the  bugles  that  played 
this  march,  but  as  if  the  army  itself,  in  its  delight  at  the 
approach  of  the  emperors,  emitted  these  sounds.  Their  echoes 
had  not  died  away,  when  the  Emperor  Alexander's  affable 
young  voice  was  distinctly  heard  addressing  the  men.  He 
uttered  the  usual  welcome,  and  the  First  Regiment  gave  forth 
one  huzza  so  deafening,  so  long  drawn  out  and  expressive  of 
joy,  that  the  men  themselves  were  amazed  and  awestruck  at 
the  magnitude  and  strength  of  the  mass  which  they  consti- 
tuted :  «  Hurrah  ! " 

Rostof  standing  in  the  front  rank  of  Kutuzof  s  army,  which 
the  emperor  first  approached,  shared  the  feeling  'experienced 
by  every  man  in  that  army,  a  feeling  of  self-forgetfulness,  a 
proud  consciousness  of  invincibility  and  of  passionate  attach- 
ment to  him  on  whose  account  all  this  solemn  parade  was  pre- 
pared.   He  felt  that  the  mere  word  of  this  man  was  only 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  297 

needed  for  this  mighty  mass,  including  himself  as  an  insigni- 
ficant grain  of  sand,  to  dash  through  fire  and  water,  to  com- 
mit crime,  to  face  death  or  perform  the  mightiest  deeds  of 
heroism,  and  therefore  he  could  not  help  trembling,  could  not 
help  his  heart  melting  within  him  at  the  sight  of  this  ap- 
pmaching  Word. 

"  Hurrah  !  Hurrah !  Hurrah ! "  was  roared  on  all  sides,  and 
one  regiment  after  another  welcomed  the  sovereigns  with 
the  music  of  the  generaUmarsck,  then  renewed  huzzas,  the 
gejieralr-marsch  and  huzzas  on  huzzas,  which  growing  louder 
and  louder,  mingled  in  one  overpowering  deafening  tumult. 

Until  the  sovereign  came  quite  close,  every  regiment  in  its 
silence  and  rigidity  seemed  like  a  lifeless  body,  but  as  soon  as 
the  sovereign  came  abreast  of  it,  the  regiment  woke  to  life  and 
broke  out  into  acclamations  which  mingled  with  tlie  roar  extend- 
ing down  the  whole  line  past  which  the  sovereign  rode.  Amid 
the  tremendous  deafening  tumult  of  these  thousands  of  voices, 
through  the  midst  of  the  armies,  standing  in  their  squares  as 
motionless  as  though  they  had  been  carved  out  of  granite, 
moved  easily,  carelessly,  but  symmetrically,  and  above  all  with 
freedom  and  grace,  the  hundreds  of  riders  constituting  the 
suites,  and  in  front  of  all  —  two  4^n,  the  emperors !  Upon 
them,  and  upon  them  alone,  were  concentrated  the  suppressed 
but  eager  attention  of  all  that  mass  of  warriors. 

The  handsome  young  Emperor  Alexander  in  his  Horse- 
guards'  uniform  and  three-cornered  hat  worn  point  forward, 
with  his  pleasant  face  and  clear  but  not  loud  voice,  was  the 
cynosure  of  all  eyes. 

Rostof  stood  not  far  from  the  buglers,  and  his  keen  glance 
recognized  the  emperor  while  he  was  still  far  off,  and  followed 
him  as  he  drew  near.  When  the  Sovereign  had  approached 
to  a  distance  of  twenty  paces,  and  Nikolai  could  clearly  dis- 
tinguish every  feature  of  his  handsome  and  radiant  young 
face,  he  experienced  a  sense  of  affection  and  enthusiasm  such 
as  he  had  never  before  felt.  Everything,  every  feature,  every 
motion  seemed  to  him  bewitching  in  his  sovereign. 

Pausing  in  front  of  the  Pavlograd  regiment,  the  monarch 
said  something  in  French  to  the   Emperor  of  Austria  and 

smiled. 

Seeing  this  smile,  Rostof  himself  involuntarily  smiled  also, 
and  felt  a  still  more  powerful  impulse  of  love  toward  his  sov- 
ereign. He  felt  a  burning  desire  to  display  this  love  in  some 
way.  He  knew  that  this  was  impossible,  and  he  felt  like 
weeping. 


298  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

The  sovereign  summoned  the  regimental  commander  and 
said  a  few  words  to  him. 

"  Bozhe  mo'i  I  what  would  happen  to  me,  if  the  sovereign 
were  to  address  me  ! ''  thought  Rostof .  "  I  should  die  of  hap- 
piness ! " 

The  emperor  also  addressed  the  officers, — 

"  Gentlemen,"  said  he,  and  Rostof  listened  as  to  a  voice  from 
heaven.  How  happy  would  he  have  been  now  could  he  onlj 
die  for  his  Tsar  !  "  I  thank  you  all  from  my  heart !  You  have 
won  the  standards  of  the  George,  prove  yourselves  worthy  of 
them ! " 

"  Only  to  die,  to  die  for  him  !  "  thought  Rostof. 

The  sovereign  said  a  few  words  more,  which  Rostof  did  not 
catch,  and  the  soldiers,  straining  their  throats,  cried  ** Hurrah! 
hurrah !  '^ 

Rostof  also  joined  with  them,  leaning  forward  in  his  saddle 
and  shouting  with  all  his  might,  willing  to  burst  his  lungs  in 
his  efforts  to  express  the  full  extent  of  his  enthusiasm  for  his 
sovereign. 

The  emperor  stood  a  few  seconds  in  front  of  the  hussars  as 
though  he  were  undecided. 

"How  can  the  sovereMjn  be  undecided ?"  mused  Rostof; 
but  immediately  even  th^^  indecision  seemed  to  him  a  new 
proof  of  majesty  and  charm,  like  everything  else  that  the  sov- 
ereign did. 

The  emperor's  indecision  lasted  only  a  moment.  His  foot, 
shod  in  a  narrow,  sharp-pointed  boot,  such  as  were  worn  at 
that  time,  pressed  against  the  flank  of  the  English-groomed  bay 
mare  on  which  he  sat.  The  sovereign's  hand,  in  a  white  glove, 
gathered  up  the  reins,  and  he  rode  off,  accompanied  -by  a  dis- 
orderly, tossing  sea  of  adjutants. 

As  he  kept  riding  farther  and  farther  down  the  line,  he  kept 
halting  in  front  of  the  different  regiments,  and  at  last  only 
his  white  plume  could  be  seen  by  Rostof,  distinguishing  him 
from  the  suite  that  accompanied  the  emperors. 

In  the  number  of  those  who  accompanied  the  emperor,  he 
noticed  Bolkonsky,  lazily  and  indifferently  bestriding  his 
steed.  The  yesterday  evening's  quarrel  with  him  came  into 
his  mind,  and  the  question  arose  whether  or  no  he  ought 
to  challenge  him.  "  Of  course  it  is  out  of  the  question  now," 
thought  Rostof.  "Is  it  worth  while  to  think  or  to  talk 
about  such  a  thing  at  such  a  moment  as  this  ?  At  a  time 
when  one  feels  such  impulses  of  love,  enthusiasm,  and  self-re- 
nunciation,  what  consequence  are  our  petty  quarrels  and  prov- 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  299 

ocations  ?  I  love  the  whole  world,  I  forgire  every  one  now  ! " 
said  Kostof  to  himself. 

After  the  sovereign  had  ridden  past  almost  all  the  regi- 
ments, the  troops  began  to  move  in  front  of  him  in  the  "  cere- 
monial march,"  and  Rostof,  on  his  Bedouin,  which  he  had 
recently  bought  of  Denisof,  rode  at  the  end  of  his  squadron, 
that  is,  alone,  and  in  a  most  conspicuous  position  before  his 
sovereign. 

Just  before  he  came  up  to  where  the  emperor  was,  Rostof, 
who  was  an  admirable  horseman,  plunged  the  spurs  in  Bedouin's 
flanks,  and  urged  him  into  that  mad,  frenzied  gallop  which 
Bedouin  always  took  when  he  was  excited.  Pressing  his 
foaming  mouth  back  to  his  breast,  arching  his  tail,  and  seem- 
ing to  fly  through  the  air,  and  spurning  the  earth,  gracefully 
tossing  and  interweaving  his  legs.  Bedouin,  also  conscious 
that  the  emperor's  eyes  were  fastened  on  him,  dashed  gal- 
lantly by. 

Rostof  himself,  keeping  his  feet  back,  and  sitting  straight 
in  his  saddle,  feeling  himself  one  with  his  horse,  rode  by  his 
sovereign  with  disturbed  but  beatific  face  ;  "  a  very  devil,*'  as 
Denisof  expressed  it. 

"  Bravo !  Pavlogradsui ! "  exclaimed  the  emperor. 

"  Bozke  TTioi  !  how  happpy  I  should  be  if  he  would  only  bid 
me  to  dash  instantly  into  the  fire ! "  thought  Rostof. 

When  the  review  was  ended,  the  officers  who  had  just  come 
from  Russia  and  those  of  Kutuzof  s  division,  began  to  gather 
in  groups  and  talk  about  the  rewards  of  the  campaign,  about 
the  Austrians  and  their  uniforms,  about  their  line  of  battle, 
about  Bonaparte,  and  what  a  desperate  position  he  had  got 
himself  into  now,  especially  if  Essen's  corps  should  join  them, 
and  Prussia  should  take  their  side. 

But  more  than  all  else  in  each  of  these  circles,  the  conversa- 
tion ran  on  the  Sovereign  Alexander,  and  every  word  that  he 
had  spoken  was  repeated,  and  everything  that  he  had  done  was 
praised,  and  all  were  enthusiastic  over  him. 

All  had  but  one  single  expectation :  under  the  personal 
direction  of  the  sovereign,  to  go  with  all  speed  against 
the  enemy.  Under  the  command  of  the  emperor  himself,  it 
would  be  an  impossibility  not  to  win  the  victory  over  any 
one  in  the  world  :  so  thought  Rostof  and  the  majority  of  the 
officers. 

After  this  review,  all  were  more  assured  of  victory  than 
they  could  have  been  after  the  gaining  of  two  battles. 


300  WAR  AND  PEAOB. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

On  the  day  following  the  review,  Boris,  dressed  in  his  best 
uniform,  and  accompanied  by  the  wishes  of  his  comrade,  Berg, 
for  his  success,  rode  oif  to  Olmtltz  to  find  Bolkonsky,  anxious 
to  take  advantage  of  his  good  will  and  secure  a  most  brilliant 
position,  especially  the  position  of  adjutant  to  some  important 
personage,  as  this  seemed  to  him  the  most  attractive  branch  of 
the  service. 

"  It's  fine  for  Rostof,  whose  father  sends  him  ten  thousand 
at  a  time,  to  argue  that  he  would  not  accept  favors  of  any  one, 
or  be  any  one's  lackey ;  but  I,  who  have  nothing  except  my 
brains,  must  pursue  my  career  and  not  miss  oppoi-tunities,  but 
take  advantage  of  them." 

He  did  not  find  Prince  Andrei  in  Olmtitz  that  day.  But  the 
sight  of  the  town  where  the  imperial  headquarters  were  situ- 
ated, where  the  diplomatic  corps  were  established,  and  both 
emperors  were  quartered  with  their  suites,  and  o^urtiera,  and 
intimates,  only  inspired  the  more  desire  in  the  young  man's 
heart  to  belong  to  this  exalted  world. 

He  had  no  acquaintainces,  and,  notwithstanding  his  elegant 
uniform  of  the  Guards,  all  these  superior  people  crowding  the 
streets  in  handsome  equipages,  plumes,  ribbons,  and  orders,  these 
courtiers  and  warriors  seemed  to  stand  so  immeasurably  above 
him  that  not  only  they  would  not  but  they  could  not  recognize 
the  existence  of  such  an  insignificant  officer  of  the  Guards  as  he 
was.  At  the  establishment  of  the  commander-in-chief.  Rata- 
zof,  where  he  inquired  for  Bolkonsky,  all  the  adjutants,  and 
even  the  servants,  looked  at  him  as  though  it  were  their  wish 
to  inspire  him  with  the  idea  that  there  was  a  great  abundance 
of  officers  like  him  there  and  that  all  were  very  much  annoyed 
by  their  presence. 

In  spite  of  this,  or  rather  in  direct  consequence  of  this,  on 
the  very  next  day,  the  twenty-seventh,  immediately  after  din- 
ner, he  went  to  Olmtltz  again,  and  going  to  the  house  occupied 
by  Kutuzof,  inquired  for  Bolkonsky. 

Prince  Andrei  was  at  home,  and  Boris  was  ushered  into  a 
great  drawing-room  where  probably  in  times  gone  by  balls  had 
been  given,  but  which  was  now  occupied  by  five  beds,  and  a 
heterogenous  medley  of  furniture :  tables,  chairs,  and  a  harpsi- 
chord. One  adjutant,  in  a  Persian  smoking  jacket,  was  sit- 
ting at  a  table  near  the  door  and  writing.     Another,  the  stout 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  801 

handsome  Kesvitsky,  lay  on  Ms  bed  with  his  hands  support- 
ing his  head,  and  laughing  and  talking  with  an  officer  who  was 
sitting  near  him.  A  third  was  at  the  harpsichord  playing  a 
Viennese  waltz  \  a  fourth  leaned  on  the  harpsichord  and  was 
hamming  the  air. 

Bolkonsky  was  not  in  the  room.  Not  one  of  these  gentle- 
men, though  they  glanced  at  Boris,  paid  him  the  slightest  at- 
tention. The  one  who  was  writing  and  whom  Boris  ventured 
to  address,  turned  round  with  an  air  of  annoyance  and  told 
him  that  Bolkonsky  was  on  duty,  and  that  he  would  find  him 
by  passing  through  the  door  on  the  left,  and  going  to  the 
leception-room  if  he  wanted  to  see  him.  Boris  thanked  him 
and  went  to  the  reception-room.  He  found  there  ten  or  a 
dozen  generals  and  6ther  officers. 

At  the  moment  that  Boris  came  in.  Prince  Andrei,  with  a 
contemptuous  frown  on  his  face  and  that  peculiar  look  of  well- 
bred  weariness  which  says  louder  than  words  that  '^  if  it  were 
not  my  duty,  I  should  not  think  of  wasting  any  more  time 
talking  with  you,''  was  listening  to  an  old  Russian  general 
with  orders  on  his  breast,  who  was  standing  upright,  almost 
on  his  tiptoes,  and,  with  the  servile  expression  characteristic 
of  the  military  on  his  purple  face,  was  laying  his  case  b afore 
Prince  Audrei. 

"  Very  good,  be  kind  enough  to  have  patience,"  he  was  say- 
ing to  the  general  in  Russian,  but  witn  that  French  accent 
which  he  affected  when  he  wished  to  speak  rather  scornfully ; 
then,  catching  sight  of  Boris,  and  making  no  further  reply  to 
the  general,  who  hastened  after  him  with  his  petition,  begging 
him  to  let  him  say  just  one  thing  more.  Prince  Andrei  with  a 
radiant  smile  and  waving  his  hand  to  him,  went  to  meet 
Boris. 

Boris  at  this  instant  clearly  understood  what  he  had  sus- 
pected before,  that  in  the  army  there  was,  above  and  beyond 
the  fact  of  subordination  and  discipline  as  laid  down  in  the 
code,  and  which  they  in  the  regiments  knew  by  heart,  and 
which  he  knew  as  well  as  any  one  else,  —  there  was  another  still 
more  essential  form  of  subordination,  one  which  compelled 
this  anxious  general  with  the  purple  face  to  bide  his  time 
respectfully,  while  Captain  Prince  Andrei,  for  his  own  satisfac- 
tion, found  it  more  interesting  to  talk  with  Ensign  Drubetskoi. 
More  than  ever  Boris  decided  henceforth  not  to  act  in  accord- 
ance with  the  written  law,  but  with  this  unwritten  code.  He 
now  felt  that  merely  through  the  fact  of  having  been  sent  to 
Prince  Andrei  with  a  letter  of  recommendation  he  was  allowed 


302  WAk  AND  PEACB. 

to  take  precedence  of  this  old  general,  who  in  other  ciiconi- 
stances,  at  the  front,  for  instance,  might  utterly  humiliate  him 
— a  mere  ensign  of  the  Guards. 

Prince  Andrei  came  to  meet  him  and  gave  him  his  hand. 

"  Very  sorry  that  you  missed  me  yesterday.  I  spent  the 
whole  day  with  the  Germans.  Went  with  Weirother  to  in- 
spect the  disposition  of  the  troops.  What  fellows  these  6er* 
mans  are  for  accuracy ;  there's  no  end  to  it ! " 

Boris  smiled  .exactly  as  though  he  understood  to  what 
Prince  Andrei  referred.  He  affected  to  see  in  it  a  piece  of 
generally  known  information,  but  really  this  was  the  first  time 
that  he  had  heard  Weirother's  name,  and  even  the  word  dispo- 
zitsiya, 

"  Well,  now,  my  dear,  so  you  would  still  like  to  become  an 
adjutant,  would  you  ?    I  was  just  thinking  about  you." 

^'  Yes,"  replied  Boris,  in  spite  of  himself,  reddening  at  the 
very  thought,  '*  I  was  thinking  of  calling  upon  the  commander- 
in-chief  ;  he  has  had  a  letter  in  regard  to  me  from  Prince  Ku- 
ragin ;  I  wanted  to  ask  it,"  he  added,  as  though  by  way  of 
apology,  "  because  I  was  afraid  the  Guards  would  not  take 
part  in  any  action." 

"  Very  good,  very  good !  We  will  talk  it  all  over,"  said 
Prince  Andrei.  "  Only  let  me  finish  up  this  gentleman's  busi* 
ness  and  I  will  be  at  your  service." 

While  Prince  Andrei  went  to  report  on  the  business  of  the 
purple-faced  general,  this  general,  evidently  not  sharing  Boris's 
comprehension  in  regard  to  the  advantages  of  the  unwritten 
code,  glared  so  fiercely  at  the  audacious  young  ensign  who  had 
interrupted  his  conversation  with  the  adjutant,  that  Boris  grew 
uncomfortable.  He  turned  away  and  waited  impatiently  for 
Prince  Andrei's  return  from  the  commander-in-chief's  private 
room. 

'^  Well,  my  dear  fellow,  as  I  said,  I  was  just  thinking  of 
you,"  said  Prince  Andrei,  as  they  went  into  the  big  room 
where  the  harpsichord  was.  "  There  is  no  use  in  your  going 
to  call  on  the  commander-in-chief,"  he  went  on  to  say  j  "he 
will  make  you  pleasant  enough  speeches,  he  will  have  yoa 
invited  to  dinner."  ("  That  would  not  be  so  bad  according  to 
this  other  code,"  thought  Boris,  in  his  own  mind),  "  but  nothing 
more  would  come  of  it ;  if  it  did,  there  would  soon  be  a  whole 
battalion  of  us  adjutants  and  orderlies.  But  I  tell  you  what 
we'll  do ;  I  have  a  good  friend  who  is  general  adjutant,  and  a 
splendid  man,  Prince  Dolgorukof,  —  and  perhaps  you  may 
not  know  this,  but  it  is  a  fact,  that  just  now  Kutuzof  and  his 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  303 

staff  and  all  of  us,  are  of  mighty  little  consequence ;  every- 
thing at  the  present  time  is  centred  on  the  emperor,  —  so  let  us 
go  to  Dolgorukof ;  I  have  an  errand  to  him  anyway,  and  I 
hare  already  spoken  to  him  of  you,  so  we  will  see  whether  he 
can't  find  the  means  of  giving  you  a  place  on  his  own  staff,  or 
somewhere  even  nearer  to  the  sun." 

Prince  Andrei  always  showed  great  energy  when  he  had 
the  chance  to  lend  a  young  man  a  hand  and  help  him  to 
worldly  success.  Under  cover  of  the  assistance  granted  an- 
other, and  which  he  would  have  been  too  proud  to  accept  for 
himself,  he  came  within  the  charmed  circle  which  was  the  source 
of  success,  and  in  reality  a  powerful  attraction  for  him.  He 
veiy  readily  took  Boris  under  his  wing  and  went  with  him  to 
Prince  Dolgorukof. 

It  was  already  quite  late  in  the  afternoon  when  they  reached 
the  palace  of  Olmiitz,  occupied  by  the  emperors  and  their  im- 
mediate followers. 

On  this  very  day  there  had  been  a  council  of  war  in  which 
all  the  members  of  the  Hofkriegsrath  and  the  two  emperors 
had  taken  part.  In  the  council  it  had  been  decided,  contrary 
to  the  advice  of  the  old  generals,  Kutuzof  and  Schwartzen- 
berg,  to  act  immediately  on  the  offensive  and  offer  Bonaparte 
general  battle. 

The  council  had  only  just  adjourned  when  Prince  Andrei, 
accompanied  by  Boris,  entered  the  palace  in  search  of  Prince 
Dolgorukof.  Already  the  magic  impression  of  this  war  council, 
which  had  resulted  in  victory  for  the  younger  party,  could  be 
seen  in  the  faces  of  all  whom  they  met  at  headquarters.  The 
voices  of  the  temporizers  who  advised  further  postponement 
of  the  attack  had  been  so  unanimously  drowned  out  and 
their  arguments  confuted  by  such  indubitable  proofs  of  the 
advantage  of  immediate  attack,  that  the  subject  of  their  delib- 
erations —  that  is,  the  impending  engagement  and  the  victory 
which  would  doubtless  result  from  it,  —  seemed  to  be  a  thing 
of  the  past  rather  than  of  the  future. 

All  the  advantages  were  on  our  side.  The  enormous  forces, 
of  the  allies,  doubtless  far  outnumbering  Napoleon's  forces, 
were  concentrated  at  one  point ;  the  armies  were  inspired  by 
the  presence  of  the  emperors,  and  eager  for  action ;  the  ^<  strat- 
egical point "  where  the  battle  was  to  be  fought,  was  known 
in  its  minutest  details,  to  the  Austrian  General  Weirother 
who  would  take  the  direction  of  the  army ;  it  happened  also, 
by  a  fortunate  coincidence,  that  the  Austrian  army  had  ma- 
iKBuvred  the  previous  year  on  these  very  plans  where  now  it 


304  VP^AR  AND  PEACE. 

was  proposed  that  they  should  meet  the  French  in  battle ;  all 
the  features  of  the  ground  were  well  known,  and  accurately 
delineated  on  the  maps,  and  Bonaparte,  evidently  weakened, 
was  making  no  preparations  to  meet  them. 

Dolgorukof,  one  of  the  most  fiery  partisans  in  favor  of  im- 
mediate attack,  had  only  just  returned  from  the  oonncil, 
weary  and  jaded,  but  full  of  excitement  and  proud  of  the 
victory  won.  Prince  Andrei  introduced  the  young  officer, 
whom  he  had  taken  under  his  protection,  but  Prince  Dolgo- 
rukof, though  he  politely  and  even  warmly  pressed  his  hand, 
said  nothing  to  him,  and  being  evidently  unable  to  refrain 
from  expressing  the  thoughts  that  occupied  him  at  this  time 
to  the  exclusion  of  everything  else,  turned  to  Prince  Andrei 
and  said  in  French,  "Well,  my  dear  fellow,  what  a  struggle 
weVe  been  having !  May  God  only  grant  that  the  one  w&ch 
will  result  from  it  will  be  no  less  victorious !  One  thing,  my 
dear  fellow,"  said  he,  speaking  eagerly  and  brusquely,  "  I 
must  confess  my  injustice  to  these  Austrians,  and  especially 
to  Weirother !  What  exactness  and  care  for  details !  whii 
accurate  knowledge  of  the  localities  !  what  foresight  for  con- 
tingencies !  what  thoughts  for  all  the  minutest  details  !  No, 
my  friend,  nothing  more  advantageous  than  the  condition  in 
whiclj  we  find  ourselves  could  possibly  be  imagined.  Austrian 
accuracy  and  Russian  Valor  combined !  what  more  could  yoa 
desire  ?  " 

"  So  an  engagement  has  been  actually  determined  upon  ?  " 
asked  Bolkousky. 

"  And  do  you  know,  my  dear,  it  seems  to  me  that  really 
Bonaparte  '  has  lost  his  Latin.'  Did  you  know  a  letter  vas 
received  from  him  to-day  addressed  to  the  emperor  ?" 

Dolgorukof  smiled  significantly. 

"  What's  that  ?     What  did  he  write  ?  "  asked  Bolkonsky. 

"  What  could  he  write  ?  Tradiridira  and  so  forth,  merely 
for  the  sake  of  gaining  time ;  that's  all.  I  tell  you,  he's  right 
in  our  hands ;  that's  certain  !  But  the  most  amusing  thing  of 
all,"  said  he,  with  a  good-natured  smile,  "was  this,  that  no 
one  could  think  how  it  was  best  to  address  the  i-eply  to  him  I 
Not  as  ^consul,'  and  still  less  as  emperor  of  course;  I  sup- 
posed it  would  be  to  General  Bonaparte." 

"  But  there  is  considerable  difference  between  not  recogniz- 
ing him  as  emperor  and  addressing  him  as  Greneral  Bona- 
parte," said  Bolkonsky. 

"  That's  the  very  point,"  said  Dolgorukof,  interrupting  him 
with  a  laugh,  and  speaking  rapidly.    "  You  know  Bilibin  —  he's 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  g05 

a  very  clever  man — he  proposed  to  address  him  as  'Usurper 
and  Enemy  of  the  Human  Race/  "  Dolgorukof  broke  into  a 
hearty  peal  of  laughter. 

<'  Was  that  all  ?  "  remarked  Bolkonsky. 

'^  But  in  the  end  it  was  Bilibin  who  invented  a  serious  title 
for  the  address.     He's  a  shrewd  and  clever  man  ! " 

"What  was  it?'' 

"  'Head  of  the  French  Government/ — au  chef  du  gouveme- 
ment  frangais,"  replied  Prince  Dolgorukof  gravely,  and  with 
satisfaction.     "  Say,  now,  wasn't  that  good  ?  " 

^  Very  good,  but  it  won't  please  him  much,"  replied  Bolkon- 
sky. 

"  Oh  not  at  all !  My  brother  knows  him  ;  he's  dined  with 
him  more  than  once,  — with  the  present  emperor  at  Paris,  and 
told  me  that  he  never  saw  a  more  refined  and  cunning  diplo- 
mat! French  finesse  combined  with  Italian  astuteness,  you 
know!  You've  heard  the  anecdotes  about  him  and  Count 
Markof,  haven't  you  ?  Count  Markof  was  the  only  man  who 
could  meet  him  on  his  own  ground.  You  know  the  story  of  the 
handkerchief  ?  It's  charming !  "  And  the  loquacious  Dolgo- 
mkof,  turning  now  to  Boris,  now  to  Prince  Andrei,  told  how 
Bonaparte,  wishing  to  test  Markof,  our  ambassador,  purposely 
dropped  his  handkerchief  in  front  of  him  and  stood  looking 
at  him  apparently  expecting  Markof  to  hand  it  to  him,  and 
how  Markof  instantly  dropped  his  handkerchief  beside  Bona- 
parte's, and  stooping  down  picked  it  up,  leaving  Bonaparte's 
where  it  lay. 

"  Charmant  /  "  exclaimed  Bolkonsky.  "  But  prince,  I  have 
oome  as  a  petitioner  in  behalf  of  this  young  man  here.  Do 
you  know  whether  "  —  but  before  Prince  Andrei  had  time  to 
finish,  an  adjutant  came  into  the  room  with  a  summons  for 
Prince  Dolgorukof  to  go  to  the  emperor. 

'*  Ah !  what  a  nuisance ! "  exclaimed  Dolgorukof,  hurriedly 
lising  and  pressing  Prince  Andrei  and  Boris's  hands,  "You 
know  I  should  be  very  glad  to  do  all  in  my  power  either  for 
you  or  foi*  this  charming  young  man."  Once  more  he  pressed 
Boris's  hand  with  an  expression  of  good-natured  frankness 
and  mecurial  heedlessness.  "  But  we'll  see  about  it.  See  you 
another  time ! " 

Boris  was  greatly  excited  by  the  thought  of  being  so  near 
to  such  exalted  powers.  He  felt  that  here  he  was  almost  in 
oontact  with  the  springs  which  set  in  motion  all  these  enor- 
mous masses  of  which  he  and  his  regiment  appeared  to  be  a 
small,  humble,  and  insignificant  part. 
VOL.  1.— 20. 


306  nrAtt  AND  PEACE. 

They  followed  Prince  Dolgonikof  into  the  corridor.  Jast 
then,  from  out  the  door  lesuling  into  the  sorereign's  apart- 
ments, through  which  Dolgorukof  was  going,  came  a  short  in- 
dividual in  civil  attire,  with  an  intellectual  face  and  a  strongly 
pronounced  and  prominent  lower  jaw,  which  without  disfig- 
uring him  lent  especial  energy  and  mobility  to  his  expression. 
This  short  man  nodded  to  Dolgorukof  as  to  a  friend,  and  came 
along  straight  toward  Prince  Andrei  with  a  fixed  cold  staie^ 
evidently  expecting  him  to  make  a  bow,  or  to  stand  out 
of  the  way  for  him.  Prince  Andrei  did  neither ;  a  wrathful 
expression  came  into  his  face,  and  the  young  man,  turning 
about  went  down  the  corridor  in  the  other  direction. 

"  Who  was  that  ?  "  asked  Boris. 

**  That  is  one  of  the  most  remarkable,  and  to  me,  most  detest- 
able of  men, —  the  minister  of  foreign  affairs.  Prince  Adam 
Czartorisky.  Those  are  the  men,''  said  Bolkonsky ,  with  a  sigh 
which  he  could  not  stifle,  as  they  left  the  palace,  ^*  those  are 
the  men  who  decide  the  fate  of  nations." 

On  the  next  day  the  armies  were  set^  in  motion,  and  Boris 
had  no  opportunities,  until  the  battle  of  Austerlitz  itself,  to 
meet  either  Prince  Bolkonsky  or  Dolgorukof,  and  remained 
for  the  time  being  in  his  regiment 


CHAPTER  X. 

At  dawn,  on  the  twenty-eighth,  Denisofs  squadron,  in  which 
Nikolai  Rostof  served,  and  which  belonged  to  Prince  Bagra- 
tion's  division,  marched  out  from  its  bivouac  to  battle,  as  it 
was  said,  and  after  proceeding  about  a  verst,  behind  the  other 
columns,  was  halted  on  the  highway. 

Rostof  saw  the  Cossacks  riding  forward  past  them,  then  the 
first  and  second  squadron  of  hussars,  and  battalions  of  infantry 
and  artillery;  and  then  the  generals,  Bagration  and  Dolgoru- 
kof, and  their  adjutants  also  rode  by. 

All  the  fear  which,  just  as  at  the  previous  battles,  he  had  ex- 
perienced before  the  action,  all  the  internal  conflict,  by  means 
of  which  he  had  overcome  this  fear,  all  his  dreams  of  how  he 
would  distinguish  himself,  hussar  fashion,  in  this  action  were 
wasted.  Their  squadron  were  stationed  in  the  reserve,  and 
Nikolai  Rostof  spent  that  day  bored  and  anxious. 

About  nine  o'clock  in  the  morning,  he  heard  at  the  front 
the  sounds  of  musketry  firing,  huzzas,  and  shouting ;  he  saw 
some  wounded  men  carried  to  the  rear  (there  were  not  many 


War  and  pKacB.  807 

of  them),  and  at  last  he  beheld  a  whole  dirision  of  French 
cavalrymen  conducted  by  in  charge  of  a  sotnya  of  Cossacks. 
Evidently,  the  action  was  at  an  end,  and  though  it  appeared  to 
be  of  small  magnitude,  it  was  attended  with  success.  The 
soldiers  and  the  officers,  as  they  returned,  narrated  the  story 
of  their  brilliant  victory,  resulting  in  the  occupation  of  the 
city  of  Wischau,  and  the  capture  of  a  whole  squadron  of 
the  French. 

The  day  was  clear  and  sunny,  after  the  nipping  frost  of 
the  night  before,  and  the  joyful  brilliancy  of  an  autumn  day 
seemed  to  harmonize  with  the  news  of  the  victory,  which  was 
confirmed  not  only  by  the  narratives  of  those  who  had  taken 
part  in  it,  but  still  more  by  the  enthusiastic  faces  of  the  sol- 
diers, officers,  generals,  and  adjutants,  passing  this  way  and 
that  before  Rostof.  Nikolai's  heart  was  the  heavier  for  hav- 
ing suffered  to  no  purpose  all  the  pangs  of  fear  anticipatory  of 
the  battle,  and  then  being  obliged  to  spend  this  glorious  day 
in  inaction. 

"  Wostof ,  come  here  !  Let  us  dwown  our  sow'ow  in  dwink ! " 
cried  Denisof,  seated  on  the  edge  of  the  road,  with  a  flask  and 
lunch  spread  before  him.  The  officers  gathered  in  a  circle 
around  Denisof  s  bottle-case,  eating  their  lunch  and  chatting. 

"  Here  they  come,  bringing  another ! "  exclaimed  one  of  the 
officers,  pointing  to  a  French  dragoon  who  had  been  made  pris- 
oner, and  was  walking  along  imder  guard  of  two  Cossacks.  One 
of  them  was  leading  by  the  bridle  a  large,  handsome  French 
horse  that  had  been  taken  from  the  prisoner. 

**  Sell  us  the  horse  ?  "  cried  Denisof  to  the  Cossack. 

"  Certainly,  your  nobility." 

The  officers  sprang  up  and  crowded  around  the  Cossacks 
and  the  prisoner.  The  French  dragoon  was  a  young  Alsatian, 
speaking  French  with  a  German  accent.  He  was  quite  out  of 
breath  with  emotion;  his  face  was  crimson.  Hearing  the 
officers  talking  French,  he  began  to  speak  with  them  eagerly, 
turning  to  one  and  another  of  them.  He  told  them  that  he 
ought  not  to  have  been  taken,  and  that  it  was  not  his  fault 
he  was  taken,  but  the  fault  of  le  caporal,  who  had  sent  him 
to  get  some  caparisons,  and  that  he  told  him  the  Russians 
were  already  there.  And  at  the  end  of  every  sentence,  he 
added:  ^^ Mais  qu^on  ne  fasse  pas  de  m-al  a  mon  ])etit  cheval  / 
— don't  let  them  harm  my  little  horse!"  at  the  same  time 
patting  his  coat. 

It  was  evident  that  he  didn't  understand  very  well  what 
had  happened  to  him.     Now  he  apologized  for  having  been 


808 


WAH  AND  PEACE. 


captured,  then,  as  though  he  imagined  himself  in  the  presence 
of  his  own  superiors,  he  vaunted  his  strict  attention  to  the 
duties  of  a  soldier  and  his  zeal  in  the  service.  He  brought 
with  him  to  our  rearguard  in  all  its  freshness  the  very  atmos- 
phere of  the  French  army,  which  was  so  foreign  to  our  men. 

The  Cossacks  sold  the  horse  for  two  ducats,  and  Rostof,  who 
was  just  now  possessed  of  money  in  plenty,  and  was  the  richest 
of  the  officers,  bought  it. 

^'  Mais  qu^on  nefasse  pas  de  mat  a  man  petit  ehevalf  "  said 
the  Alsatian  good  naturedly  to  Kostof,  when  the  horse  was 
handed  over  to  the  hussar. 

Bostof,  with  a  smile,  reassured  the  dragoon,  and  gave  him 
some  money. 

^^Alyo!  All/of"  said  the  Cossack,  attempting  to  speak  in 
French,  and  touching  the  prisoner's  arm  to  make  him  move 
on. 

"  Gosuddr  !  gosxidar  !  —  the  emperor  \  the  emperor !  "  was 
suddenly  heard  among  the  hussars.  All  was  hurry  and  con- 
fusion as  the  officers  scattered,  and  Eostof  distinguished  down 
the  road  a  number  of  horsemen  with  white  plumes  in  their 
hats  riding  toward  them.  In  a  moment's  time,  all  were  in  their 
places  and  waiting. 

Rostof  did  not  remember  and  had  no  consciousness  of  how 
he  got  to  his  place  and  mounted  his  horse.  Instantly  his 
disappointment  at  not  being  present  at  the  skirmish,  the 
mutinous  frame  of  mind  that  he  had  felt  during  the  hours 
of  inaction,  passed  away ;  every  thought  about  himself  in- 
stantly vanished ;  he  was  perfectly  absorbed  in  the  sense  of 
happiness  arising  from  the  proximity  of  his  sovereign !  He 
felt  himself  compensated  by  the  mere  fact  of  his  presence  for 
all  the  loss  of  the  day.  He  was  as  happy  as  a  lover,  in  expec- 
tation of  the  wished-for  meeting !  Not  daring  to  look  down 
the  line,  and  not  glancing  around,  he  felt  his  approach  by  his 
enthusiastic  sense.  And  he  felt  this  not  alone  by  the  mere 
trampling  of  the  horse's  hoofs  as  the  cavalcade  rode  along,  but 
he  felt  it  because  in  proportion  as  they  drew  near,  all  around 
him  grew  brighter,  more  radiant  with  joy,  more  impressive 
and  festive.  Nearer  and  nearer  came  what  was  the  sun  for 
Rostof,  scattering  around  him  rays  of  blissful  and  majestic 
light,  and  now  at  last  he  realized  that  he  was  enveloped  by 
these  rays ;  he  heard  his  voice,  that  aifable,  serene,  majestic, 
and  at  the  same  time  utterly  unaffected  voice.  A  dead  silence 
ensued,  just  as  Rostof  felt  ought  to  be  the  case,  and  this  silence 
was  broken  by  the  sound  of  his  sovereign's  voice,  — 


WAR  AND  PEACE,  309 

"Les  huzards  de  Pavloffrad  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  La  reserve^  sire,'^  replied  some  other  voice,  a  merely  human 
voice,  after  the  superhuman  voice  which  had  asked  if  they  were 
the  Pavlograd  hussars. 

The  emperor  came  up  near  where  Kostof  was  and  reined  in 
Jiis  horse.  Alexander's  face  was  still  more  beautiful  than  it 
had  been  three  days  before  at  the  time  of  the  parade.  It 
fairly  beamed  with  delight  and  youthful  spirits,  —  such  inno- 
cently youthful  spirits  that  it  reminded  one  of  the  sportive- 
ness  of  a  fourteen  year  old  lad ;  and  yet,  nevertheless,  it  was 
the  face  of  a  majestic  emperor !  Chancing  to  glance  down  the 
squadron,  the  sovereign's  eyes  met  Rostof 's,  and  for  upwards  of 
two  seconds  gazed  into  them.  May  be  the  sovereign  read  what 
was  passing  in  Rostof 's  soul ;  it  certainly  seemed  to  Kostof  that 
he  must  know  it ;  at  all  events,  he  fixed  his  blue  eyes  for  the 
space  of  two  seconds  on  Kostof s  face.  (A  sweet  and  gentle 
light  seemed  to  emanate  from  them.)  Tmn  suddenly  his  eye- 
brows contracted,  and  with  a  brusque  movement  of  his  leffc 
foot  he  spurred  his  horse  and  galloped  forward. 

The  young  emperor  could  not  restrain  his  desire  to  be  pres- 
ent at  the  battle,  and  in  spite  of  all  the  objections  of  his  court- 
iers, he  managed  about  twelve  o'clock  to  leave  the  third  column, 
under  whose  escort  he  had  been  moving,  and  spurred  ofp  to  the 
front.  But  before  he  reached  the  hussars  he  was  met  by  ad- 
jutants with  the  report  of  the  happy  issue  of  the  skirmish. 

The  engagement,  which  was  merely  the  capture  of  a  squad- 
ron of  the  French,  was  represented  as  a  brilliant  victory,  and 
consequently  the  sovereign,  and  the  whole  army,  after  this, 
and  especially  before  the  smoke  had  cleared  away  from  the 
field  of  battle,  were  firmly  convinced  that  the  French  were 
conquered  and  were  in  full  retreat. 

A  few  minutes  after  the  passing  of  the  sovereign,  the  divis- 
ion of  the  Pavlogi'ad  hussars  were  ordered  to  advance.  In  the 
little  German  town  of  Wischau,  Kostof  saw  the  emperor  yet  a 
second  time.  In  the  town  square,  where,  just  before  the  sov- 
ereign's arrival,  there  had  been  a  pretty  lively  interchange  of 
shots,  still  lay  a  number  of  men,  killed  and  wounded,  whom  it 
had  not  been  possible  as  yet  to  remove. 

The  sovereign,  surrounded  by  his  suite  of  military  and  civil 
attendants,  and  riding  a  chestnut  mare,  groomed  in  English 
style,  though  not  the  same  one  which  he  had  ridden  at  the 
parade,  leaning  over  and  gracefully  holding  a  gold  lorgnette  to 
nis  eye,  was  looking  at  a  soldier  stretched  out  on  the  ground, 
without  his  shako,  and  with  his  head  all  covered  with  blood. 


810 


WAR  AND  PEACE. 


The  soldier  was  so  filthy,  rough,  and  disgusting,  that  Eos- 
tof  was  quite  affronted  that  he  should  be  so  near  his  majesty. 
Bostof  saw  how  the  sovereign's  stooping  shoulders  contracted, 
as  though  a  chill  ran  down  his  back,  and  how  his  left  heel  con- 
vulsively pressed  the  spur  into  the  horse's  side,  and  bow  the 
admirably  trained  animal  looked  around  good-naturedly  anc^ 
did  not  stir  from  his  place. 

An  adjutant  dismounted,  and  taking  the  soldier  under  the 
arm,  assisted  to  lift  him  to  a  stretcher  which  had  just  been 
brought. 

The  soldier  groaned. 

"  Gently,  gently !  can't  you  lift  him  more  gently ! "  exclaimed 
the  sovereign,  apparently  suffering  more  keenly  than  the  dying 
soldier,  and  he  rode  away. 

Rostof  saw  the  tears  that  filled  his  monarch's  eyes,  and 
heard  him  say  in  French  to  Czartorisky  as  he  rode  away, — 

"What  a  terribli  thing  war  is,  what  a  terrible  thing!  — 
Quelle  terrible  chose  que  la  guerre  !  " 

The  vanguard  had  been  stationed  in  front  of  Wischau,  in 
sight  of  the  enemy's  pickets,  who  had  left  us  the  place  after 
desultory  firing  that  had  lasted  all  day.  The  vanguard  had 
been  personally  congratulated  and  thanked  by  the  emperor, 
rewards  had  been  promised,  and  a  double  portion  of  vodka 
had  been  dealt  out  to  the  men.  The  bivouac  fires  crackled 
even  more  merrily  than  the  night  before,  and  the  soldiers' 
songs  rang  out  with  still  greater  gusto. 

Denisof  that  night,  gave  a  supper  in  honor  of  his  promotion 
as  major,  and  Rostof,  who  had  already  taken  his  share  of 
wine,  at  the  end  of  the  merrymaking  proposed  a  toast  to  the 
sovereign's  health  :  "  Not  the  sovereign  emperor,  the  gofnidthr- 
imperdtor,  as  he  is  called  in  official  circles,"  said  he,  "  but  the 
health  of  the  sovereign,  as  a  kind-hearted,  lovable,  and  great 
man, —  let  us  drink  to  his  health,  and  to  our  probable  victory 
over  the  French.  If  we  fought  well  before,"  he  went  on  to 
say,  "  and  gave  no  quarter  to  the  French  at  Schdngraben,  will 
not  this  be  the  case  now  when  he  himself  leads  us  ?  We  will 
all  die,  gladly  die  for  him  !  Isn't  that  so,  gentlemen  ?  Per- 
haps I  do  not  express  myself  very  well,  for  I  have  been  drink- 
ing a  good  deal,  but  that's  what  I  feel,  and  so  do  you  all !  To 
the  health  of  Alexander  the  First !     Hurrah !  " 

"  Hurrah !  hurrah !  "  rang  the  hearty  voices  of  the  officers. 
And  the  old  Captain  Kirsten  shouted  just  as  heartily  and  no 
less  sincerely  than  the  twenty-year-old  Rostof. 

When  the  officers  had  drunken  the  toast  and  broken  their 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  811 

glasses,  Kiraten  got  a  fresh  one  and  filled  it,  and  in  his  shirt- 
sleeves and  riding-trouseis,  with  the  glass  in  his  hand,  went 
to  the  camp-fire  of  some  of  the  soldiers,  and  assuming  a  majes- 
tic pose,  waving  his  hand  over  his  head,  stood  with  his  long, 
grey  mustache  and  white  chest  visible  under  his  unbuttoned 
shirt,  in  the  firelight, — 

"  Children !  to  the  health  of  the  sovereign  emperor,  to  vic- 
toiy  over  our  enemies !  Hurrah ! "  he  cried  in  his  youthful- 
old  hussar's  baritone. 

The  hussars  crowded  around,  and  answered  in  friendly  wise 
with  a  tremendous  shout. 

Late  that  night,  when  all  had  separated,  Denisof  laid  his 
stabby  hand  on  his  favorite  Rostof's  shoulder, — 

*'  In  the  field,  no  woom  for  love  affairs,  when  one's  so  much 
in  love  with  the  tsar !  "  said  he. 

"  Denisof !  Dou't  jest  on  this  subject ! "  cried  Kostof .  "  This 
is  such  an  exalted,  such  a  noble  feeling,  that " — 

"  I  agwee  with  you,  I  agwee  with  you,  my  fwiend,  I  under- 
stand, I  appwove  " — 

"No,  you  can't  understand  it ! "  and  Rostof  got  up  and  be- 
gan to  wander  among  the  watch-fires,  and  dreamed  of  what  bliss 
it  would  be  to  die  —  as  to  losing  his  life,  he  did  not  dare  to 
think  of  that !  —  but  simply  to  die  in  the  presence  pf  his  sov- 
ereign. He  was  really  in  love,  not  only  with  the  tsar,  but 
also  with  the  glory  of  the  Russian  arms,  and  the  hope  of  im- 
pending victory.  And  he  was  not  the  only  one  who  experi- 
enced this  feeling  on  the  memorable  days  that  preceded  the 
battle  of  Austerlitz :  nine-tenths  of  the  men  composing  the 
Bussian  army  were  at  that  time  in  love^  though  perhaps  less 
ecstatically,  with  their  tsar  and  the  glory  of  the  Russian  arms. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

On  the  following  day,  the  sovereign  remained  in  Wischau. 
His  body  physician  Villiers  was  several  times  called  to  see 
him,  and  not  only  at  headquarters,  but  in  the  various  corps, 
the  report  was  spread  abroad  that  the  emperor  was  ill.  He 
had  eaten  nothing  that  day,  and  had  slept  badly  the  night 
before,  so  those  who  were  in  his  counsels  rejwrted.  This  in- 
disposition proceeded  from  the  powerful  impression  produced 
upon  his  sensitive  soul  by  the  sight  of  the  wounded  and  the 
killed. 

At  daybreak,  on  the  twenty-ninth,  a  French  officer  with  a 


312  WAR   AND  PEACE. 

flag  of  tmce  passed  the  sentinels,  and  was  brought  into 
Wischau,  demanding  a  personal  interview  with  the  Bussian 
Emperor. 

This  officer  was  Savary. 

The  sovereign  had  just  fallen  asleep,  and  therefore  Savary 
was  obliged  to  wait.  At  noon  he  was  admitted  into  the  empe- 
ror's presence,  and  at  the  end  of  an  hour  came  out  and  rode, 
accompanied  by  Prince  Dolgonikof,  back  to  the  pickets  of  the 
French  arm}-. 

It  was  soon  reported  that  the  purpose  of  Savary's  mission 
was  a  pro[)osal  for  a  meeting  of  the  emperor  with  Napoleon. 
This  personal  meeting  was  refused,  much  to  the  gratification 
and  delight  of  the  whole  army,  and  in  the  sovereign's  place 
Prince  Dolgorukof,  the  conqueror  of  Wischau  was  delegated 
to  confer  with  Napoleon,  if  contrary  to  anticipation  he  should 
express  a  genuine  desire  for  peace. 

In  the  evening  Dolgonikof  returned,  went  directly  to  the 
sovereign  and  was  closeted  a  long  time  with  him  alone. 

On  the  thirtieth  of  November  and  the  first  of  December, 
the  armies  moved  forward  two  more  stages,  and  the  advanced 
pickets  of  the  enemy,  after  slight  skirmishes,  retired.  Before 
noon  of  December  first,  there  began  in  the  upper  circles  of 
the  army  a  vigorous  stirring,  and  exciting  movement,  which 
continued  until  the  morning  of  the  second  of  December,  when 
was  fought  the  world-renowned  battle  of  Austerlitz. 

Up  till  the  afternoon  of  the  first,  the  movement,  the  excited 
conversations,  the  galloping  about  and  carrying  of  messages 
was  confined  to  the  headquarters  of  the  two  emperors ;  in  the 
afternoon  of  the  same  day,  the  excitement  was  communicated 
to  Kutuzofs  headquarters,  and  to  the  staffs  of  the  division 
commanders.  By  evening  this  movement  had  spread  by  means 
of  the  adjutants  to  all  the  ren^otest  portions  of  the  army,  and 
during  the  night  that  followed  the  first  of  December,  the 
enormous  mass  of  eighty  thousand  men  comprising  the  allied 
armies,  arose  from  their  bivouacs  with  a  hum  of  voices, 
and  stirred  and  wavered  like  a  mighty  fabric  ten  versts  in 
length. 

The  concentrated  movement,  beginning  in  the  morning  at  the 
headquarters  of  the  emperors  and  finally  giving  its  impulse  to 
the  whole,  even  to  the  remotest  parts,  was  analogous  to  the 
first  movement  of  the  central  wheel  of  a  great  tower  clock 
The  one  wheel  moves  slowly,  it  starts  another,  —  a  third; 
and  ever  more  and  more  swiftly  the  wheels,  pulleys,  pinions, 
begin  to  revolve,  the  chimes  of  bells  to  play,  the  figures  to  go 


J 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  313 

through  their  evolutions,  the  hands  to  move  in  measured  time, 
showing  the  results  of  'the  motions. 

As  in  the  mechanism  of  the  clock,  so  in  the  mechanism  of 
this  military  movement ;  no  less  irresistiblj  they  move  even 
to  the  last  resultant,  when  once  the  impulse  is  given  and  just 
as  impassively  immovable,  up  to  the  moment  when  the  move- 
ment is  started,  are  the  parts  of  the  mechanisms  as  yet  unstirred 
by  their  work.  The  wheels  whizz  on  their  axles,  the  cogs 
catch,  the  revolving  sheaves  hiss  in  their  rapid  motion,  but  the 
next  wheel  is  as  yet  as  calm  and  immovable  as  though  it  had 
before  it  a  century  to  remain  in  immobility ;  and  then  its 
moment  comes,  the  cog  has  caught,  and  becoming  subject  to 
the  motion  the  wheel  begins  to  whirr  as  it  revolves  and  takes 
part  in  an  activity,  the  results  and  aim  of  which  are  incom- 
prehensible to  it. 

Just  as  in  the  clock  the  result  of  the  complicated  motions 
of  numberless  and  different  wheels  and  pullies  is  merely  to 
move  the  hands  slowly  and  in  measured  rhythm  so  as  to  tell 
the  time,  so  the  result  of  all  the  complicated  human  motions 
of  these  one  hundred  and  sixty  thousand  Russians  and  French 
—  all  the  passions,  desires,  regrets,  humiliations,  sufferings, 
transports  of  pride,  panic,  enthusiasm  of  all  these  men  was 
merely  the  loss  of  the  battle  of  Austerlitz,  called  the  Battle 
of  the  Three  Emperors ;  in  other  words,  the  measured  forward 
motion  of  the  hand  of  universal  history  on  the  dial  of 
humanity. 

Prince  Andrei  was  on  duty  this  day,  and  constantly  by  the 
side  of  the  commander-in-chief. 

About  six  o'clock  in  the  evening,  Kutuzof  came  to  the  head- 
quarters of  the  emperors,  and  after  a  short  audience  with  his 
sovereign,  went  to  see  Count  Tolstoi,  the  Ober-hofmarshal, 
master  of  supplies. 

Bolkonsky  took  advantage  of  this  time  to  run  into  Dolgo- 
mkof  8  to  fin4  out  about  the  impending  engagement.  Prince 
Andrei  felt  that  Kutuzof  was  dissatisfied  and  out  of  sorts  for 
some  reason  or  other,  and  that  he  was  out  of  favor  at  head- 
quarters, and  that  all  whom  he  met  at  the  emperor's  head- 
quarters behaved  toward  him  like  meu  who  know  more  than 
others  know,  and  it  was  for  this  reason  that  he  was  anxious 
for  a  talk  with  Dolgorukof . 

"Well,  how  you,  rrum  cher?^^  exclaimed  Dolgorukof,  who 
was  drinking  tea  with  Bilibin.  "  The  celebration  comes  to- 
morrow !  —  What's  the  matter  with  your  old  man  ?  He  seems 
out  of  sorts  ? '' 


314  WAR  AND  PEACE, 

"  I  should  not  say  that  he  was  out  of  sorts,  but  I  think  that 
he  would  like  to  have  been  listened  to." 

"  Well,  he  was  listened  to  at  the  council  of  war,  and  he  will 
be  when  he  is  willing  to  talk  business,  but  to  be  temporizing 
and  waiting  for  something  now  that  Bonaparte  fears  a  general 
engagement  more  than  anything  else,  is  impossible." 

*'  And  so  you've  seen  him,  have  you  ?  "  asked  Prince  Andrei 
"  Well,  what  sort  of  a  man  is  this  Bonaparte  ?  What  impres- 
sion did  he  produce  upon  you  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  have  seen  him,  and  I  am  convinced  that  he  is  more 
afraid  of  a  general  engagement  than  of  anything  else  in  the 
world,"  replied  Dolgorukof,  evidently  laying  great  store  by 
this  general  conclusion  drawn  from  his  interview  w^ith  Napo- 
leon. "  If  he  were  not  afraid  of  a  general  battle,  why  should 
he  have  demanded  this  interview,  and  entered  into  negotiations, 
and  above  all  retreated,  when  retreating  is  contrary  to  his 
entire  method  of  carrying  on  war  ?  Believe  me,  he  is  afraid 
—  afraid  of  a  general  engagement ;  his  hour  is  at  hand  I  Mark 
my  words ! " 

"  But  tell  me,  about  him,  what  kind  of  a  man  is  he  ?  "  asked 
Prince  Andrei. 

"  He  is  a  man  in  a  gray  overcoat,  very  anxious  for  me  to 
address  him  as  <your  majesty,'  and  very  much  affronted 
because  I  gave  him  no  title  at  all.  That's  the  kind  of  a  man 
he  is,  and  that's  all  I  can  say ! "  replied  Dolgorukof,  looking 
at  Bilibin  with  a  smile.  "  In  spite  of  my  perfect  confidence 
in  old  Kutuzof,"  he  went  on  to  say,  "  we  should  all  be  in  a  fine 
state  if  we  kept  on  waiting  for  something  to  happ>en,  and 
thereby  giving  him  the  chance  to  outflank  us  or  play  some 
trick  upon  us,  now  when  he's  right  in  our  hands  evidently. 
No,  it's  not  a  good  thing  to  forget  Suvarof  and  his  rule  :  'it's 
a  better  policy  to  attack  than  to  be  attacked.'  I  assure  you, 
in  w^ar  the  energy  of  young  men  often  points  out  the  way 
more  wisely  than  all  the  experience  of  old  tacticians." 

"  But  in  what  position  are  we  going  to  attack  him  ?  I  was 
at  the  advanced  posts  to-day,  and  it  is  impossible  to  make  out 
where  his  main  force  is  stationed,"  said  Prince  Andrei.  He 
was  anxious  to  explain  to  Dolgorukof  a  plan  of  attack  of  his 
own  that  he  had  devised. 

"Oh,  it  is  of  absolutely  no  consequence,"  replied  Dolgo- 
rukof, hastily  getting  up  and  spreading  a  map  on  the  table. 
"  All  contingencies  are  foreseen.    If  he  is  posted  at  Brllnn."  — 

And  Prince  Dolgorukof  rapidly  and  not  very  clearly  unfolded 
Weirother's  plan  for  a  flank  movement. 


WAR  AND  PEACE,  315 

Prince  Andrei  hastened  to  raise  objections  and  to  expound 
his  own  plan.  Perhaps  it  was  fully  as  good  as  Weirother's, 
but  it  had  one  serious  fault  —  that  Weirother's  had  been 
approved  instead.  As  soon  as  Prince  Andrei  began  to  point 
out  the  disadvantages  of  Weirother's,  and  the  excellencies  of 
his  own  plan,  Prince  Dolgorukof  ceased  listening  to  him  and 
looked  absently  not  at  the  map,  but  at  Prince  Andrei's  face. 

"Well,  there  is  to  be  a  council  of  war  this  evening  at  Kutu- 
zoFs ;  there  you  will  have  a  chance  to  deliver  your  views," 
said  Dolgorukof. 

"I  certainly  shall,"  said  Prince  Andrei,  pushing  the  map 
aside. 

"  And  what  are  you  struggling  over,  gentlemen  ?  ".  asked 
Bilibin,  who  until  now  had  been  listening  to  their  discussion 
with  a  gay  smile,  and  had  at  last  made  up  his  mind  to  get 
some  sport  out  of  it.  "  Whether  we  have  a  victory  or  a  defeat 
to-morrow,  the  glory  of  the  Russian  arms  is  assured.  Ex- 
cept our  Kutuzof,  there  isn't  a  single  Russian  division  com- 
mander. The  heads  are  Herr  G^n6ral  Wimpfen,  le  Comte  de 
Langeron,  le  Prince  de  Lichtenstein,  le  Prince  de  Hohenlohe 
et  enfin  Prscz  —  Prscz  —  and  all  the  rest  of  the  alphabet,  like 
all  Polish'  names." 

"  Hush,  viauvaise  languel'^  said  Dolgorukof,  —  "It  isn't  so, 
for  here  are  two  others,  Russians,  Miloradovitch  and  Dokh- 
turof,  and  we  might  count  Count  Arakcheyef  as  a  third,  but  he 
has  weak  nerves." 

"Well,  I  think  Mikhail  Iliaronovitch  must  have  come  out," 
said  Prince  Andrei,  "  I  wish  you  all  happiness  and  success, 
gentlemen,"  he  added,  and  after  shaking  hands  with  Dolgo- 
rukof and  Bilibin,  went  in  search  of  Kutuzof. 

On  the  way  back  to  their  quarters,  Prince  Andrei  could  not 
refrain  from  asking  Kutuzof  who  sat  in  moody  silence  beside 
him,  what  he  thought  of  the  approaching  engagement 

Kutuzof  looked  sternly  at  his  adjutant,  and  after  a  moment 
of  silence  replied,  "  I  think  that  the  battle  will  be  lost,  and  so 
I  told  Count  Tolstoi,  and  begged  him  to  repeat  it  to  the  sov- 
ereign, and  what  do  you  think  was  the  answer  he  gave  me  ? 
'  Ab,  my  dear  general,  rice  and  cutlets  occupy  me ;  you  attend 
to  the  affairs  of  war!'*  Yes,  that's  the  way  they  answer 
me!"  ♦ 

*  M,  mon  cher  g^rUral^Je  me  VfUU  de  riz  e(  4^9  oQ^ekHeSf  mihf  V9U9  de^ 
»ffaire$  de  la  guerre^ 


316  ^AR  AND  PEACE. 


CHAPTER  Xn. 

At  ten  o'clock  that  evening  Weirother  came  with  Ids 
plans  to  Kutuzofs  headquarters,  where  the  council  of  war  was 
to  be  convened.  All  the  division  commanders  had  been  sum- 
moned to  meet  at  the  commander-in-chiefs,  and  with  the  ex- 
ception of  Prince  BagratioD,  who  excused  himself,  all  appeared 
at  the  appointed  hour. 

Weirother,  who  was  the  chief  promoter  of  the  proposed 
engagement,  presented  by  his  eagerness  and  vehemence  a 
sharp  contrast  to  the  dissatisfied  and  sleepy -looking  Rutuzof, 
who  in  spite  of  himself  was  obliged  to  preside  as  cluurmaD 
over  the  council  of  war. 

Weirother  evidently  felt  that  he  was  the  head  centre  of  the 
movement  which  had  already  become  irresistible.  He  was 
like  a  horse  harnessed  into  a  loaded  team  and  going  down  hill. 
He  knows  not  whether  he  is  pulling  it  or  whether  it  is  forcing 
him  onward ;  but  he  is  borne  down  with  all  possible  rapidity, 
and  has  no  time  to  deliberate  on  the  outcome  of  this  down- 
ward motion. 

Weirother  twice  that  afternoon  had  been  out  personally  to 
inspect  the  enemy's  pickets,  and  had  twice  called  on  the  Rus- 
sian and  Austrian  Emperors  with  his  reports  and  explanations, 
and  had  been  to  his  own  chancelry  where  he  had  dictated  his 
dispositions  in  Grerman.  And  now,  all  worn  out,  he  came  to 
Kutuzofs. 

He  was  evidently  so  full  of  his  own  ideas  that  he  forgot  to 
be  civil  to  the  commander-in-chief ;  he  interrupted  him,  spoke 
rapidly  and  incoherently,  not  looking  into  the  face  of  his 
colleague,  not  replying  to  the  questions  asked  him,  and  he 
was  spattered  with  mud  and  had  a  woebegone  haggard,  dis- 
tracted, but  at  the  same  time  self-conceited  and  haughty  ap- 
pearance. 

Kutuzof  occupied  a  small  manor  house  near  Austerlitz.  In 
the  large  drawing-room,  which  had  been  converted  into  a  cab- 
inet for  the  commander-in-chief,  were  gathered  all  the  mem- 
bers of  the  council  of  war,  including  Kutuzof  himself  and 
Weirother.  They  were  drinking  tea.  They  were  only  wait- 
ing for  Bagration  in  order  to  open  the  council  session.  Shortly 
after  ten  o'clock,  Bagration's  orderly  rode  over  with  the 
message  that  the  prince  was  unable  to  be  present.  Prince 
Andrei  came  in  to  report  this  to  the  commander-in-chief,  and 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  317 

impToving  the  permission  previously  granted  by  Kutuzof  to 
be  present  at  the  council,  remained  in  the  room. 

"  Well,  then,  as  Prince  Bagration  is  not  to  be  here,  we  may 
as  well  begin,"  exclaimed  Weirother,  hastily  jumping  up  from 
his  seat  and  going  over  to  the  table  whereon  was  spread  a 
large  map  of  the  environs  of  Briinn. 

Kutuzof  with  his  uniform  unbuttoned,  apparently  to  give 
greater  freedom  to  his  stout  neck  clasped  by  his  collar,  was  sit- 
ting in  a  Voltaire  chair,  with  his  plump,  aged-looking  hands  sym- 
metrically placed  on  the  arms,  and  was  almost  asleep.  At  the 
sound  of  Weirother's  voice  he  with  difficulty  opened  his  one  eye. 

"  Yes,  yes,  please,  else  it  will  be  late,"  said  he,  nodding  his 
head,  he  let  it  sink,  and  again  closed  his  eye. 

If,  at  first,  the  members  of  the  council  supposed  that  Kutu- 
zof was  only  pretending  to  sleep,  this  time  the  sounds  that 
proceeded  from  his  nose  during  the  course  of  the  subsequent 
reading  were  sufficient  proof  that  what  occupied  the  com- 
mander-in-chief was  vastly  more  serious  to  him  than  his  desire 
to  express  scorn  for  the  plan  of  battle,  or  anything  else  :  what 
concerned  him  at  that  moment  was  the  invincible  requirement 
of  human  nature,  sleep.     Ho  was  actually  napping ! 

Weirother,  with  the  action  of  a  man  too  much  occupied  to 
waste  a  moment  of  time,  glanced  at  Kutuzof,  and  though  he 
perceived  that  he  was  asleep,  took  his  paper,  and  in  a  loud, 
monotonous  tone  began  to  read  his  plan  for  the  disposition  of 
forces  for  the  impending  engagement,  under  the  heading,  which 
he  also  read,  "  Distribution  of  the  forces  for  the  attack  on  the 
enemy's  position  behind  Kobelnitz  and  Sokolnitz,  November 
30, 1805." 

The  "disposition"  was  very  complicated  and  difficult  to 
comprehend.  In  the  original  German,  it  was  to  the  following 
effect,* — 

'*  Since  the  enemy  rests  his  left  wing  on  the  wooded  mountains,  and 
his  right  wing  stretches  along  hy  Kobelnitz  and  Sokolnitz,  behind  the 
ponds  that  are  there;  while  we,  on  the  other  hand,  far  outnumber  his 
right  wing  with  our  left  —  it  Is,  therefore,  for  our  advantage  to  attack  the 

•  Da  der  Feind  mit  geinem  linl-en  FlUgel  an  die  mit  Wald  hederkten  Berge 
kkntfUnd  tick  mit  seinen  rechten  Flugel  langs  Kobelnitz  vnd  Sokolnitz  hinter 
dkdort  hefindichen  Teiche  zieht,  wir  im  Qegentheil  mit  vnseremUnken  FlOgel 
ftinen  rtchten  tehr  dehordiren,  to  ist  es  vorthrilha/t  ktzeren  FlUgel  des 
Feindes  zu  attakiren,  besonders  wenn  wir  die  DSrfer  Sokolnitz  und  Kobelnitz 
im  Besitze  haben  wodurch  wir  dem  Feind  zugleicfi  in  die  Flanke  fallen  und 
ihnav^fder  FlStchezwisehen  Schlpanitz  vnd  dem  Thiirassa  Walde  vcrfolgcn 
hhmen  indem  wir  die  DeJUeen  von  Schlapanitz  tnd  Dellowitz  avsweirhen, 
wcfcft«  die  feindliche  Front  decken.  Zu  diesem  Endzwecke  ist  e$  ndthig  :  — 
Die  ertte  Kolonne  marschiri  —  die  zweiU  Kolonne  marschirt  —  die  dritte 
Mohnnt  mutrschirt  —  u.  $.  io. 


818  n'AR  AND  PEACE. 

• 

enemy's  right  wing,  especially  if  we  are  in  possession  of  the  villages  of 
Sokolnitz  and  Kobelnitz,  because  we  should  immediately  fall  upon  the 
enemy's  flanks,  and  be  able  to  drive  him  across  the  plain  between  Scbla- 
panitz  and  the  Thuerass  forest,  and  avoid  the  defiles  of  Schlapanitx  and 
Bellowitz,  which  protect  the  enemy's  front.  To  this  end  it  is  necessaiy: 
the  first  column  must  march  —  the  second  column  must  march — the  third 
column  must  march  " —  and  so  on. 

Thus  read  Weirother.  The  generals  found  it  hard  to  listen 
to  the  tedious  details  of  the  scheme.  The  tall,  fair-haired,  Gen- 
eral Buxhovden  stood  leaning  against  the  wall,  and,  resting  his 
eyes  on  one  of  the  lighted  candles,  seemed  neither  to  listen  nor 
wish  it  to  be  supposed  that  he  was  listening.  Directly  opposite 
Wierother  sat  Miloradovitch,  with  his  brilliant,  wide-open  eyes, 
ruddy  face,  and  elevated  mustache  and  shoulders.  In  soldierly 
attitude,  resting  his  hands  on  his  knees,  with  the  elbows  turned 
out,  he  preserved  a  stubborn  silence,  gazing  directly  into  Wei- 
rother's  face,  and  taking  his  eyes  from  him  only  when  the  Aus- 
trian commander  paused.  Then,  Miloradovitch  looked  signifi- 
cantly at  the  other  generals.  But  it  was  utterly  impossible  to 
tell  by  this  significant  look  whether  he  agreed  or  disagreed, 
whether  he  were  satisfied  or  dissatisfied  with  the  proposed  plan. 

Nearest  of  all  to  Weirother,  sat  the  Count  de  Langeron,  and 
with  a  shrewd  smile,  which  did  not  once  during  the  reading 
vanish  from  his  Southern  French  countenance,  he  gazed  at  his 
slender  fingers,  rapidly  twirling  by  the  corners  his  gold  snuff- 
box adorned  with  a  miniature  portrait.  In  the  midst  of  one 
of  the  longest  sentences,  he  stopped  this  whirling  of  his  snuff- 
box, raised  his  head,  and,  with  a  disagreeable  show  of  polite- 
ness, carried  to  extremes,  he  interrupted  him,  and  started  to 
make  some  remark ;  but  the  Austrian  general,  not  pausing  in 
his  task,  frowned  angrily,  and  made  a  gesture  with  his  elbows, 
as  much  as  to  say ;  "  Wait,  wait,  you  shall  tell  me  your  ideas 
by  and  by ;  now  be  good  enough  to  look  at  the  map  and  fol- 
low me ! " 

Langeron  threw  up  his  eyes  with  an  expression  of  per- 
plexity, glanced  at  Miloradovitch,  as  though  seeking  for  an 
explanation  ;  but  meeting  Miloradovitch's  significant  but  enig- 
matical glance,  he  looked  away  gloomily,  and  began  once  more 
to  twirl  his  8nuff-lx)X. 

"  Une  legon  de  geographie  !  ^^  he  exclaimed,  as  if  to  himself, 
but  loud  enough  to  be  heard  by  the  others. 

Prsczebiszewsky,  with  respectful  but  dignified  politeness, 
held  one  hand  to  the  ear  nearest  Weirother,  and  had  the  ap- 
pearance of  a  man  whose  attention  is  perfectly  absorbed. 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  319 

Dokhturof,  small  in  statare,  sat  opposite  Weirother  with  at- 
tentive and  modest  mien,  and  leaned  over  the  map  unrolled 
before  him,  and  conscientiously  followed  the  scheme  as  it  was 
evolved,  studying  tlfe  places  which  he  did  not  know.  Sev- 
eral times  he  begged  Weirother  to  repeat  some  word  that  he 
had  failed  to  understand,  or  the  names  of  villages  that  were 
hard  for  him  to  catch.  Weirother  complied  with  his  request, 
and  Dokhturof  wrote  them  down  in  his  notebook. 

When  the  reading,  which  had  lasted  upwards  of  an  hour,  was 
completed,  Langeron,  again  laying  down  his  snuff-box,  and 
without  looking  at  Weirother,  or  any  one  in  particular,  began 
to  discourse  on  the  difficulties  in  the  way  of  carrying  out  such 
a  plan  of  battle,  even  where  the  position  of  the  enemy  was 
known,  and  particularly  when  the  position  of  the  enemy  could 
not  be  known,  owing  to  their  constant  changing  from  one  place 
to  another. 

Langeron's  objections  were  well  taken,  but  it  was  evident 
that  their  animus  came  from  a  desire  to  show  General  Weiro- 
ther, who  had  been  reading  his  plan  of  attack  in  the  most  con- 
ceited manner,  as  though  to  a  pack  of  schoolboys,  that  he  was 
dealing  not  with  dunces  but  with  men  who  were  able  to  give 
even  him  lessons  in  the  art  of  waging  war. 

When  Weirother's  monotonous  voice  ceased,  Kutuzof  opened 
his  eyes,  like  a  miller  who  wakes  the  moment  the  soporific 
sounds  of  his  mill  wheels  are  interrupted ;  he  listened  to  what 
Langeron  said,  and  then,  as  much  as  to  say,  "  Well,  what  non- 
sence  you  all  are  capable  of  uttering,"  hurriedly  closed  his 
eyes  again,  and  let  his  head  sink  even  lower  on  his  breast. 

Langeron,  endeavoring  to  wound  Weirother  as  cruelly  as 
possible  in  his  self-love  as  an  author  and  soldier,  went  on  to 
show  that  Bonaparte  might  easily  attack  instead  of  waiting  to 
be  attacked,  and,  consequently,  make  all  this  elaborate  plan  of 
battle  perfectly  nugatory.  Weirotlier  replied  to  all  these  ob- 
jections with  a  steady,  scornful  smile,  that  was  evidently  pre- 
pared beforehand  against  everything  that  might  be  said  to 
him, —  ^ 

"  If  he  had  been  able  to  attack  us,  he  would  have  done  so  to- 
day," said  he. 

"  You  think  that  he  is  weak,  do  you  ?  "  asked  Langeron. 

"  He  ifi  well  off  if  he  has  forty  thousand  men,"  replied  Wei- 
rother, with  the  smile  of  a  regular  practitioner  to  whom  a 
woman  doctor  wishes  to  suggest  some  remedy. 

"  In  that  case,  he  is  rushing  on  his  own  ruin  by  waiting 
for  us  to  attack  him,"  said  Langeron,  with  a  slight,  ironical 


820  WAR  AND  PEACE, 

smile,  looking  to  Miloradovitch  again  for  confirmation,  fint 
Miloradovitch  was  apparently  thinking  least  of  all  of*what 
the  generals  were  contending  about, —      « 

"  Ma  foi  !  "  said  he,  "  to-morrow  we  shall  find  out  all  about 
it  on  the  battle-field ! " 

Weirother  again  indulged  in  that  smile  which  said  that  to 
him  it  was  absurd  and  strange  to  meet  the  objections  \A  the 
Russian  generals  toward  what  not  only  he  himself,  but  the  sov- 
ereign emperors  had  had  faith  in. 

"The  enemy  have  quenched  their  fires,  and  a  constant  nmrble 
has  been  heard  in  his  camp,"  said  he.  "  AVhat  does  that  sig- 
nify ?  Either  he  is  retreating,  which  is  the  only  thing  that  we 
have  to  fear,  or  he  is  changing  his  position."  He  smiled.  But 
even  if  he  should  take  up  his  position  in  Thtlrassa  he  is  merely 
saving  us  great  trouble,  and  all  our  arrangements,  even  to  the 
minutest  details,  would  remain  the  same." 

"  How  so  ?  "  asked  Prince  Andrei  who  had  been  watching 
for  some  time  for  an  opportunity  to  express  his  doubts. 
Kutuzof  here  woke  up,  coughed  severely  and  looked  around 
on  the  generals. 

"Gentlemen,  the  arrangements  for  to-morrow  —  or  rather 
for  to-day  —  for  it's  already  one  o'clock  —  cannot  be  changed," 
said  he.  "  You  have  heard  them,  and  we  will  all  perform  our 
duty.  But  before  a  battle  there  is  nothing  more  important "  — 
he  paused  a  moment —  "than  to  have  a  good  night's  rest." 

He  made  a  motion  to  arise.  The  generals  bowed  and  sepa- 
rated. It  was  already  after  midnight.  Prince  Andrei  went  to 
his  quarters. 

The  council  of  war  at  which  Prince  Andrei  was  not  given  a 
chance  to  express  his  opinion  as  he  had  hoped,  left  a  dubious 
and  disturbing  impression  on  his  mind.  He  did  not  know  who 
was  right,  Dolgonikof  and  Weirother,  or  Kutuzof  and  Lan- 
geron,  and  the  others  who  did  not  approve  of  the  plan  of 
attack.  "But  is  it  possible  that  Kutuzof  cannot  communicate 
his  ideas  directly  with  the  emperor?  Can't  this  be  done  even 
now  ?  Can  it  be  that  for  mere  court  or  private  considerations 
thousands  of  lives  must  be  imperilled  —  and  mine,  mine  ?  "  he 
asked  himself. 

"  Yes,  it  is  very  possible,"  he  thought,  "  that  I  may  be  kQled 
to-morrow."  And  suddenly  at  this  thought  of  death,  a  whole 
series  of  most  remote  and  most  sincere  recollections  began  to 
arise  in  his  mind ;  he  recalled  his  last  parting  with  his  father 
and  his  wife;  he  remembered  the  early  dkja  of  his  lore 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  S21 

toward  her !  He  remembered  the  baby  that  she  was  to  bear 
him,  and  he  began  to  feel  sorry  for  her  and  for  himself,  and  so 
in  a  nervously  tender^nd  agitated  frame  of  mind  he  left  the 
cottage  where  he  lodged  with  Xesvitsky,and  began  to  walk  up 
and  down  in  front  of  the  house. 

The  night  was  cloudy,  but  the  moonbeams  mysteriously 
gleamed  through  the  clouds.  "  Yes,  to-morrow,  to-morrow !  " 
he  thought.  "  To-morrow,  perhaps  all  will  be  ended  as  far  as 
I  am  concerned,  all  these  recollections  will  have  vanished,  all 
these  recollections  will  be  for  me  as  a  mere  nothing.  To-mor- 
row perhaps,  indeed  most  probably,  —  to-morrow  —  I  am  con- 
vinced of  it  I  shall  have  an  opportunity  for  the  first  time  at 
last  of  showing  all  that  I  can  do." 

And  he  began  to  picture  to  himself  the  battle,  the  loss  of 
it,  the  concentration  of  the  fighting  at  one  single  point,  and 
the  confusion  and  bewilderment  of  all  the  leaders.  And  now 
comes  the  blessed  moment,  that  Toulon,  for  which  he  had  beeu 
waiting  so  long,  offering  itself  to  him !  He  resolutely  and 
clearly  tells  his  opinion  to  Kutuzof  and  Weirother,  and  the 
emperors.  All  his  plans  are  honored  with  their  approval,  but 
no  one  offers  to  carry  them  out,  and  so  he  selects  a  regiment, 
a  division,  imposes  the  condition  that  no  one  shall  interfere  in 
Ws  arrangements,  and  he  leads  his  division  to  the  decisive 
point,  and  alone  wins  the  victory  ! 

"  But  death  and  suffering  ?  "  says  another  voice. 

Prince  Andrei,  however,  paid  no  heed  to  this  voice,  and  con- 
tinued to  dream  of  his  triumphs.  The  arrangements  of  the 
next  battle  are  entrusted  to  him  alone.  He  is  still  nothing 
but  an  officer  of  the  day  in  Kutuzofs  army,  but  still  he  does 
ererything  by  his  own  unaided  efforts.  The  next  battle  is 
gained  by  him  alone.  Kutuzof  is  removed,  he  is  called  to  fill 
his  place. 

"  Well,  but  what  then,"  whispered  the  other  voices  ;  "  what 
then  ?  supposing  you  are  not  wounded  ten  times,  killed,  or 
overreached,  well,  then,  and  what  next  ?  " 

"  I  am  sure  I  know  not,"  replied  Prince  Andrei  to  himself, 
"I  know  not  what  will  come  next,  I  cannot  know  and  I  have 
no  wish  to  know.  But  if  I  wish  this,  if  I  wish  to  win  glory, 
if  I  wish  to  be  a  famous  man,  if  I  wish  to  be  loved  by  men, 
then  I  am  not  to  blame  because  I  desire  it,  because  this  is  the 
only  thing  that  I  desire,  the  only  thing  for  which  I  live.  Yes 
the  only  thing.  I  never  will  confess  this  to  any  one  !  But 
Day  God !  what  can  T  do,  if  I  love  nothing  except  glory  only, 
and  devotion  to  humanity.  Death,  wounds,  loss  of  family, 
VOL.  1.  — 21. 


322  WAR  AND  PBACB. 

nothing  is  terrible  to  me.  And  yet  dear  to  me,  precious  to  me 
as  many  people  are,  —  father,  sister,  wife,  the  dearest  of  all,  — 
yet  strange  and  unnatural  as  it  may  seem,  I  would  instantly 
sacrifice  them  all  for  one  minute  of  glory,  of  triumph,  for  the 
affection  of  men  whom  I  do  not  know  and  never  shall  know, 
even  for  the  love  of  those  men  there,"  said  he  to  himself,  as 
he  listened  to  the  sounds  of  voices  talking  in  Kutuzof  s  court- 
yard. 

In  Kutuzofs  courtyard  the  denshchiks  were  busy  packing 
up  and  talking ;  one  voice,  apparently  that  of  the  coachman, 
who  was  teazing  KutuzoPs  old  cook,  whom  Prince  Andrei 
knew,  and  whom  they  called  Tit,  kept  saying, "  Tit,  I  say,  Tit ! " 

"  There,  now,"  replied  the  old  man. 

"  Tit,  Tit,  grind  the  wheat."* 

"  Tfu  !  go  to  the  devil,"  rang  the  voice,  which  ^^^  drowned 
by  the  shouts  of  laughter  of  the  denshchiks  and  servants. 

"  And  yet  I  love  and  prize  the  victory  over  them  all,  I  prize 
this  mysterious  strength  and  glory  which  seems  here  to  hover 
above  my  head  in  yonder  clouds." 


CHAPTER  Xni. 

EosTOF  went  that  same  night  with  his  platoon  to  serve  as 
outposts  stationed  in  front  of  Bagration's  division.  His  hus- 
sars were  posted  two  and  two  along  the  line  ;  he  himself  kept 
riding  his  horse  the  whole  length  of  the  line,  striiggling  to 
overcome  his  irresistible  inclination  to  drowsiness. 

Behind  him  he  could  see  the  enormous  extent  of  space 
filled  with  the  watch-fires  of  our  army  dimly  gleaming  through 
the  fog ;  in  front  of  him  was  the  misty  darkness.  Though  he 
strained  his  eyes  to  penetrate  this  misty  distance,  he  could  see 
nothing ;  now  it  seemed  to  brighten  up  a  little,  then  there 
seemed  to  be  some  black  object ;  then  he  imagined  that  he  saw 
a  light  which  he  thought  must  be  the  watch-fires  where  the 
enemy  were,  and  then  again  he  told  himself  that  his  eyes  had 
deceived  him. 

He  closed  his  eyes  and  his  imagination  presented  now  his 
sovereign,  now  Denisof,  now  his  recollections  of  Moscow,  and 
again  he  would  open  his  eyes  and  see  right  before  his  face  the 
head  and  ears  of  his  horse,  and  here  and  there  the  dark  forms 
of  hussars  as  he  came  within  six  paces  of  them,  while  every- 
where there  was  the  same  misty  darkness  veiling  the  distance. 

•  **  Tit,  siupal  molotit  I  ** 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  82S 

"  Why  not  ?  It  might  very  possibly  come  to  pass,"  thought 
Rostof,  ''the  emperor  might  meet  me  and  give  me  an  order, 
just  as  to  any  other  officer ;  might  say :  '  Ride  ofP  yonder  and 
iind  out  what  is  there.'  I  have  heard  many  stories  about  his 
finding  just  merely  by  chance  an  officer  like  me,  and  taking 
him  into  his  personal  service.  What  if  he  should  take  me  in- 
to his  personal  service !  oh !  how  I  should  watch  over  him,  how 
I  should  tell  him  the  whole  truth,  how  I  should  unmask  his 
deceivers  ! "  and  Kostof,  in  order  to  give  greater  color  to  the 
love  and  devotion  which  he  felt  for  his  sovereign,  imagined 
that  he  had  before  him  an  enemy  whom  he  was  killing,  or  a 
German  traitor,  whose  ears  he  was  roundly  boxing,  in  pres- 
ence of  his  sovereign. 

Suddenly,  a  distant  shout  startled  him.  He  awoke  and 
opened  his  eyes. 

"  Where^ju  I  ?  Oh,  ves,  at  the  outposts.  Countersign  and 
pass  word  are  '  cart-pole '  and  *  Olmiitz.'  What  a  shame  that 
our  squadron  is  going  to  be  held  in  reserve  to-morrow,"  he  said 
to  himself.  "I  will  beg  to  take  part,  ^That  is  probably  the 
only  chance  I  shall  have  of  seeing  the  emperor.  It  won't  be 
long  before  I  am  relieved.  I  will  ride  up  and  down  once  more, 
and  then  I  will  go  and  ask  the  general." 

He  straightened  himself  up  in  the  saddle,  and  turned  his 
horse,  once  more  to  inspect  his  hussars.  It  seemed  to  him 
that  it  had  grown  lighter.  Toward  his  left,  he  could  see  a 
slope,  the  gleam  of  a  declivity,  and,  lying  opposite  to  him,  a 
dark  knoll  which  seemed  as  steep  as  a  wall.  On  the  top  of 
this  knoll  was  a  white  spot.  Ifbstof  could  not  clearly  make 
out  whether  it  was  a  clearing  in  the  woods,  lighted  by  the 
moon,  or  a  patch  of  snow,  or  white  houses.  It  even  seemed 
to  him  that  there  was  something  moving  on  that  white  spot. 

"It  must  be  snow,  that  spot;  spot  —  une  tache,^'  said 
^tof,  first  in  Russian,  then  in  French.  "  How  absurd  ;  it's 
no  tache  —  Natasha,  my  sister,  has  black  eyes.  Na  —  tashka 
(how^^mazed  she  will  be  when  I  tell  her  I  have  seen  the  em- 
peror !).     Na —  tasha.     My  ssthTe-tasrhe  —  take  it." 

'^Farther  to  the  right,  your  nobility,  there  are  bushes  there ! " 
said  the  voice  of  the  hussar,  by  whom  Rostof  was  passing,  half 
asleep.  Rostof  raised  his  head,  which  had  fallen  over  almost 
down  to  the  horse's  mane  ;  he  drew  up  near  the  hussar.  The 
sleep  of  youth,  of  childhood,  irresistibly  overcame  him. 

"Oh,  dear  me,  what  was  I  thinking  of?  I  must  not  forget. 
How  shall  I  speak  to  the  emperor?  No,  that's  not  it;  that's 
for  to-morrow.     Oh,  yes,  yes !  tliat  spot  —  cette  tache  f  they'll 


324  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

be  attacking  us  !  Us  ?  who  ?  The  hussars  !  But  the  hus- 
sars and  —  and  a  pair  of  mustaches.  —  Along  the  Tverskaya, 
this  hussar  was  riding,  and  I  was  thinking  about  him,  —  right 
opposite  Huriefs  house  —  the  old  man  Hurief  —  Ekh !  splen- 
did little  Denisof  !  Ah  !  this  is  all  nonsense.  The  main  thing : 
the  emperor  is  here  now !  How  he  looked  at  me  and  wanted  to 
say  something  to  me,  but  he  did  not  venture.  No,  it  was  1 
who  did  not  venture !  This  is  all  mixed  up !  but  the  m^ 
thing  is  that  I  must  not  forget  that  I  had  something  important 
on  my  mind;  so  I  had!  Natashka  —  Na  —  tasha  —  la  tache— 
yes,  that's  a  good  joke  !  "  and  again  his  head  sank  forward  on 
the  horse's  mane. 

Suddenly,  it  seemed  to  him  that  the  enemy  were  firing  at 
him. 

"What?  What,  what's  that;  speak!  what  is -it?  "cried 
Rostof,  waking. 

At  the  instant  Rostof  opened  his  eyes,  he  heard  in  front  of 
him,  in  the  direction  of  the  enemy,  the  prolonged  shouts  of 
thousands  of  voices.  His  horse,  and  the  hussars'  stationed 
near  him,  pricked  up  their  ears  at  these  sounds.  On  the  spot 
from  which  the  cries  proceeded,  one  point  of  fire  after  another 
flashed  and  died,  and  along  the  whole  line  of  the  French  army, 
stretching  up  the  hills,  gleamed  those  fires,  while  the  shouts 
grew  louder  and  louder.  Eostof  made  out  that  it  was  French, 
but  could  not  distinguish  the  words.  There  was  too  great  a 
roar  of  voices.  All  that  it  sounded  like  was  a  confused  a-arara ! 
and  rrrrrrr ! 

"  What's  that  ?  What  do  you  think  it  is  ?  "  ajsked  Rostof, 
turning  to  his  neighbor,  the  hussar.  "  It's  from  the  enemy, 
isn't  it  ?  " 

The  hussar  made  no  reply. 

"  What !  didn't  you  hear  anything  ?  "  asked  Rostof,  after 
waiting  for  some  time  for  the  hussar  to  speak. 

"  How  can  anybody  tell,  your  nobility,"  replied  the  hussar, 
in  a  non-committal  way. 

"  Judging  from  the  direction,  it  must  be  the  enemy,  mustn't 
it  ?  "  inquired  Rostof. 

"  Maybe  'tis,  and  maybe  t'isn't,"  exclaimed  the  hussar.  "  You 
see  it's  night.  There  now,  steady,"  he  cried  to  his  horse,  who 
was  growing  restive.  Rostof's  horse  also  became  excited,  and 
pawed  the  frozen  ground,  as  he  listened  to  the  shouting,  and 
glanced  at  the  flashing  fires. 

The  shouts  of  the  voices  constantly  increased  in  volume, 
and  mingled  in  a  general  roar,  such  as  could  have  been  pro- 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  325 

duced  only  by  an  army  of  many  thousand  men.  The  fires 
stretched  out  more  and  more,  until  at  last  they  seemed  to  ex- 
tend throughout  the  French  camp.  Bostof  had  now  lost  all 
inclination  to  sleep.  The  joyful,  enthusiastic  huzzas  in  the 
enemy's  army  had  a  most  stimulating  effect  upon  him.  Vive 
Vempereur !  Vempereur!  were  the  words  that  Kostof  could 
now  clearly  distinguish. 

"Well,  they  can't  be  far  away;  must  be  just  beyond  the 
brook,"  said  he  to  the  hussar  by  his  side. 

The  hussar  only  sighed,  without  vouchsafing  any  answer, 
and  coughed  sullenly.  • 

Along  the  line  of  the  hussars  w^  heard  the  sound  of  a  horse- 
man, coming  at  full  gallop,  and  out  of  the  darkness  of  the  night 
suddenly  loomed  up  a  shape  apparently  larger  than  a  colossal 
elephant :  it  was  a  non-commissioned  officer  of  liussars. 

"  The  generals,  your  nobility  !  '^  cried  the  subaltern,  riding 
up  to  Rostof.  Rostof,  still  looking  in  the  direction  of  the 
shouting  and  the  light,  joined  the  subaltern  and  rode  back  to 
meet  several  horsemen,  who  were  riding  along  the  line.  One 
was  on  a  white  horse.  It  was  Bagration,  who,  together  with 
Prince  Dolgorukof  and  several  aides,  came  down  to  see  what 
they  could  make  out  of  the  strange  phenomenon  of  the  fires 
and  shouting  in  the  enemy's  army.  Rostof  rode  up  to  Bagra- 
tion, reported,  and  took  his  place  among  the  adjutants,  who 
were  listening  to  what  the  generals  might  say. 

"  Believe  me,"  said  Prince  Dolgorukof,  addressing  Bagration, 
"  This  is  nothing  but  a  ruse ;  he  is  retreating,  and  has  ordered 
the  rearguard  to  light  fires  and  make  a  noise,  so  as  to  deceive 
us." 

"  It  is  not  likely,"  said  Bagration.  "  Last  evening  I  saw 
them  on  that  knoll ;  if  they  were  retreating  they  would  have 
abandoned  it  Mr.  Officer,"  turning  to  Rostof,  "  are  his  scouts 
still  there  ?  " 

"  They  were  there  last  evening,  but  I  can't  tell  now,  your 
illustriousness.  If  you  would  like,  I  will  take  some  of  the 
hussars  and  find  out,"  replied  Rostof. 

Bagration  hesitated,  and  making  no  answer,  tried  to  peer  in- 
to Rostof's  face.  "Well,  all  right,  go  and  reconnoitre,"  said 
he,  after  a  short  pause. 

"I  will  do  so." 

Rostof  applied  spurs  to  his  horse,  called  subaltern  Fad- 
ehenko  and  two  other  hussars,  ordered  them  to  follow  him 
and  galloped  off  down  the  slope  in  the  direction  of  the  pro- 
longed shouts.     Rostof   felt  both  sad  and  glad  to  be  riding 


326  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

thus  alone  with  three  hussars  yonder  into  that  mysterious  and 
terrible  misty  distance  where  no  one  had  preceded  him.  Ba- 
gration  called  to  him  from  the  crest  not  to  go  farther  than  the 
brook,  but  Rostof  pretended  not  to  hear  what  he  said,  and 
without  pausing  they  rode  farther  and  farther,  conslantlj 
finding  himself  subject  to  illusions,  mistaking  bushes  for  trees, 
gulleys  for  men,  and  constantly  rectifying  his  impi'essions. 

After  they  had  reached  the  bottom  at  a  rapid  trot,  they  no 
longer  saw  any  fires  either  on  our  side  or  on  the  enemy's,  but 
the  shouts  of  the  French  began  to  sound  louder  and  clearer. 
In  the  ravine  he  saw  before  him  what  he  took  to  be  a  river, 
but  when  he  approached  it,  he  recognized  that  it  was  a  high- 
way over  which  he  had  once  ridden.  When  he  reached  the 
highway,  he  reined  in  his  horse  in  some  uncertainty ;  shonld 
he  ride  along  the  road,  or  cross  it,  or  strike  into  the  dark  field 
on  the  other  side?  To  ride  along  the  road  which  shone 
through  the  fog  was  less  perilous,  because  he  could  distinguish 
men  at  a  greater  distance. 

"  Follow  me,"  he  cried,  crossing  the  road,  and  he  began  to 
gallop  up  the  hill  toward  that  place  where  a  French  picket 
had  been  standing  the  afternoon  before. 

"  Your  nobility,  there  he  is ! "  exclaimed  one  of  the  hussars, 
and  before  Rostof  had  a  chance  to  look  at  what  was  beginning 
to  loom  up  black  in  the  fog,  there  came  a  flash  of  fire,  the 
report  rang  out,  and  the  bullet,  as  though  regretting  some- 
thing, buzzed*  high  over  their  heads  through  the  fog,  and  sped 
out  of  hearing.  There  was  no  second  report,  the  powder  merely 
flashed  in  the  priming  pan.  Rostof  turned  his  horse  about 
and  rode  back  at  a  gallop.  Again  from  different  points  four 
musket  shots  rang  out,  and  the  bullets  with  various  tones 
whistled  by  and  buried  themselves  in  the  darkness.  Rostof 
reined  in  his  horse,  which  like  himself,  felt  a  thrill  of  joy  at 
the  firing,  and  proceeded  at  a  walk.  "  Well,  there  it  is  again,, 
there  it  is  again,"  whispered  some  inspiriting  voice  in  his 
heart.     But  there  were  no  more  shots. 

As  soon  as  he  neared  Bagration,  Rostof  again  urged  his 
horse  to  a  gallop,  and  held  his  hand  to  his  visor  as  he  ap- 
approached. 

Dolgorukof  still  clung  to  his  opinion  that  the  French  were 
retreating,  and  had  kindled  the  fires  merely  for  the  sake  of 
deceiving  us.  "  What  does  this  signify  ?  "  he  asked,  as  Rostof 
rode  up  to  them.     "  They  might  retreat  and  still  leave  pickets." 

"  It  is  evident  they  have  not  all  gone,  prince,"  said  Bagr»- 

*  ZazhuzMia. 


(I'AH  AND  PEACE.  327 

tion.    "  To-morrow  morning,  to-morrow,  we  shall  know  for  a 
certainty." 

"There  is  a  picket,  your  illustrioiisness,  in  just  the  same 
place  as  yesterday,"  reported  Rostof,  bending  forward,  still 
holding  his  hand  at  his  visor,  and  unable  to  refrain  from  a 
smile  of  delight  at  his  ride,  and  especially  at  the  sound  of  the 
bullets. 

*'  Very  good,  veiy  good,"  replied  Bagration.  "  Thank  you, 
Mr.  Officer." 

"Your  illustriousness,"  said  Eostof,  "allow  me  to  ask  a 
faTor." 

''What  is  it?"  * 

"  To-morrow  our  squadron  is  to  be  left  in  reserve ;  allow  me 
to  be  transferred  to  the  first  squadron." 

«  What's  your  name  ?  " 

"Count  Rostof." 

"Ah,  good.     Stay  with  me  as  orderly." 

"  Son  of  Ilya  Andreyitch  ?  "  asked  Dolgorukof .  But  Rostof 
made  him  no  answer. 

"  So  I  may  expect  it,  your  illustriousness  ?  " 

"I  will  see  to  it." 

"To-morrow,  very  likely,  I  may  be  sent  with  some  message 
to  the  sovereign,"  said  Rostof  to  himself.     "  Glory  to  God ! " 

The  shouts  and  cries  in  the  enemy's  army  arose  from  the 
circamstance  that  at  the  time  Napoleon's  general  order  was 
being  read  throughout  the  army,  the  emperor  himself  came  on 
horseback  to  inspect  the  bivouacs.  The  soldiers  seeing  the 
emperor,  lighted  trusses  of  straw  and  followed  him  with  cries 
of  vive  Vempereur  ! 

Napoleon's  order  was  as  follows,  — 

"Soldiers  !  The  Russian  army  has  come  against  us  in  order  to  avenge 
ue  Austrian  arroy  of  Ulm.  These  are  the  same  battalions  which  we 
^^c^^ated  at  Hollabriinn,  and  which,  since  that  time,  we  have  been  con- 
>^Uy  following  up. 

The  position  which  we  occupy  is  paramount,  and  as  soon  as  they 
*^^cmpt  to  outflank  my  right  they  will  expose  their  own  flank. 

Soldiers  !  I  myself  will  direct  your  battalions.  I  will  keep  out  of  range 
«  the  firing  if  you,  with  your  usual  gallantry,  carry  confusion  and  con- 
'^^RtttioQ  into  the  ranks  of  the  enemy  ;  but  if  the  combat  becomes  for 
ooe  instant  doubtful,  you  will  see  your  emperor  exposing  himself  at  the 
w»t  to  the  blows  of  the  enemy,  since  there  can  be  no  hesitation  in  the 
Jictory,  especially  to-day  when  the  honor  of  the  French  infantry,  in  whose 
2|[Qds  lies  the  honor  of  the  nation,  is  at  stake.  Do  not  break  the  ranks 
™cr  pretext  of  carrying  away  the  wounded.  Let  each  man  be  animated 
uy  the  thought  that  we  must  conquer  these  ffiercenaries  of  England,  filled 


328  WAR  AND  PEACE, 

with  such  hatred  against  our  nation.    This  victory  will  bring  the  eaoi- 
paign  to  an  end,  and  we  can  retire  to  winter  quarters  where  we  shall  be  i 
joined  by  the  fresh  troops  which  are  mobilizing  in  France.    And  then  ths 
peace  which  I  shall  conclude  will  be  memorable  for  my  people,  for  yoa 
and  for  me.  Kapolsob . 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

At  five  o'clock  in  the  morning  it  was  still  perfectly  dark. 
The  troops  of  the  centre,  of  the  reserves,  and  the  right  wing, 
under  Bagration,  were  as  yet  motionless ;  but  on  the  left  wing, 
the  columns  of  ^fantry,  cavalry,  and  artillery,  ordered  to  be 
the  first  to  descend  from  the  heights  and  attack  the  enemy's 
right  flank,  and  drive  him  back  into  the  mountains  of  Bohemia, 
according  to  the  "  disposition,"  were  already  stirring  and  begin- 
ning to  rise  from  their  couches.  The  smoke  from  the  fires, 
into  which  they  were  throwing  everything  superfluous,  made 
their  eyes  smart.  It  was  cold  and  dark.  The  officers  were 
hastily  drinking  their  tea  and  breakfasting ;  the  soldiers  were 
munching  their  biscuits,  kicking  the  round  shot  to  warm  their 
feet,  and  crowding  about  in  front  of  the  fires,  throwing  in  the 
remains  of  their  huts,  chairs,  tables,  wheels,  buckets,  and  every- 
thing that  could  not  be  taken  with  them. 

The  Austrian  guides  came  between  the  Russian  lines,  and 
gave  the  signal  for  the  start.  As  soon  as  the  Austrian  offi- 
cer made  his  appearance  near  the  quarters  of  a  regimental 
commander,  the  regiment  began  to  stir :  the  soldiers  hastened 
from  the  fires,  thrust  their  pipes  into  their  boot  legs,  their 
bags  into  the  baggage  wagons,  put  their  guns  in  order,  and 
fell  into  line. 

The  officers  buttoned  themselves  up,  put  on  their  swords  and 
pouches,  and  inspected  the  lines,  now  and  then  venting  their 
displeasure. 

The  adjutants,  battalion  commanders,  and  colonels  mounted 
their  horses,  crossed  themselves,  and  issued  their  last  instruc- 
tions, orders,  and  commissions  to  the  traih  hands  left  in  charge 
of  the  baggage ;  then  was  heard  the  monotonous  trampling  of 
thousands  of  feet. 

The  columns  were  set  in  motion,  but  they  knew  not  whither 
they  were  going,  and  owing  to  the  throngs  that  surrounded 
them,  and  the  smoke,  and  the  thickening  fog,  they  could  not 
see  either  the  place  that  they  were  leaving,  or  that  to  which 
they  were  sent. 

The  soldier  in  a  military  movement  is  as  much  sanounded, 


WAR  AND  PEACE,  329 

limited,  and  fettered  by  his  regiment,  as  a  sailor  is  by  the  ship 
on  which  he  sails.  However  far  he  goes,  into  whatever  strange, 
unknown,  and  terrible  distances  he  is  sent,  around  him  are  al- 
ways and  everywhere  the  same  comrades,  the  same  ranks,  the 
same  sergeant,  Ivan  Mitrich,  the  same  company  dog,  Zhutchka, 
the  same  officers ;  just  as  for  the  sailor,  there  are  the  same 
decks,  the  same  masts,  the  same  cables. 

The  sailor  rarely  cares  to  know  what  distances  over  which 
Us  ship  has  sailed ;  but  on  the  day  of  a  military  movement, 
God  knows  how,  or  whence,  or  in  what  world  of  mystery,  the 
soldiers  hear  a  stern  note,  which  is  the  same  for  all,  and  which 
ng:nifies  the  nearness  of  something  decisive  ^nd  solemn,  and 
invites  them  to  dream  of  what  they  are  not  usually  wont  to 
think  about.  The  soldiers  on  the  day  of  a  military  movement 
are  excited,  and  strive  to  get  beyond  the  petty  interests  of  their 
own  regiment ;  they  are  all  ears  and  eyes,  and  greedily  ask 
questions  about  what  is  going  to  take  place  before  them. 

The  fog  was  so  dense  that,  though  it  had  grown  lighter,  it 
was  impossible  to  see  ten  paces  ahead.  Bushes  seemed  like 
huge  trees,  level  places  gave  the  impression  of  being  precipices 
and  slopes.  Anywhere,  at  any  moment,  they  might  fall  upon 
the  enemy,  who  would  be  utterly  invisible  within  ten  paces. 
But  the  columns  marched  for  a  long  time  in  the  same  fog,  up 
hill  and  down  dale,  skirting  gardens  and  orchards,  along  by 
places  where  none  of  them  had  ever  been  before,  and  still 
they  found  no  enemy.  On  the  other  hand,  in  front  of  them, 
behind  them,  on  all  sides  of  them,  the  soldiers  were  made 
oonscioos  that  our  Russian  columns  were  all  marching  in  the 
same  direction.  Each  soldier  felt  a  thrill  at  the  heart  at  the 
knowledge  that  many,  n^any  others  of  our  men  were  going 
where  he  was  going :  that  is,  he  knew  not  whither. 

"  See  there !  The  Kursk  men  have  started,"  said  various 
Toices  in  the  ranks. 

"Terrible  lot  of  our  troops  collected  here,  messmates  !  Last 
evenin'  I  looked  aroimd  when  the  fires  were  lit ;  couldn't  see 
tl«  end  of  'em  !     Like  Moscow,  in  one  word !  " 

Although  not  one  of  the  division  nachalniks  came  near  the 
ranks  or  had  anything  to  say  to  the  soldiers  —  the  division 
JWchalniks,  as  we  saw  in  the  council  of  war,  were  out  of  sorts 
*nd  dissatisfied  with  the  work  in  hand,  and,  consequently, 
B>erely  carried  out  the  general  orders  and  did  nothing  to  in- 
spirit the  men  —  still  the  soldiers  marched  on  cheerfully,  as  is 
usually  the  case  when  they  are  going  into  action,  and  psirticu- 
lariy  into  offensive  action. 


[ 


830  H'-^i?  AND  PEACE. 

But  after  they  bad  been  marching  for  about  an  hour,  all  the 
time  in  thick  fog,  they  were  ordered  to  halt,  and  an  unpleasant 
consciousness  of  disorder  and  confusion  in  the  operations  spread 
through  the  ranks.  It  would  be  very  difficult  to  explain  hov^ 
such  a  consciousness  got  abroad ;  but  there  was  no  doubt  that 
it  was  transmitted  and  spread  with  extraordinary  rapidity :  the 
uncertainty  became  certainty ;  gaining  with  irresistible  force, 
as  water  rushes  down  a  ravine.  If  the  Russian  army  had  been 
alone  by  itself,  without  allies,  then  possibly  it  would  have 
taken  much  longer  time  for  this  consciousness  of  confusion  to 
grow  into  a  general  certainty  ;  but,  as  it  was,  all  took  a  nat- 
ural satisfaction  in  attributing  the  cause  of  the  disorder  to  the 
stupid  Grermans,  and  were  convinced  that  the  pernicious  snarl 
was  due  to  the  sausage-makers  ! 

"*  Why  are  we  halting  ?  What  ?  Have  we  got  blocked  f 
We  can't  have  come  afoul  of  the  French,  can  we  ?  " 

*»  No !  We  should  have  heard  from  them.  They'd  hare 
begun  to  fire  at  us." 

**  They  hurried  us  off  so,  and  now  here  we  are,  all  in  muddle 
in  the  middle  of  the  field  ;  that's  the  way  with  those  cursed 
Grerman's ;  they  muddle  everything  all  up  ! " 

**  What  stupid  devils !  If  I'd  had  anything  to  do  with  them, 
I'd  have  put  'em  to  the  front.  But  instead,  you  may  be  sure 
of  that,  they  press  us  from  behind.  And  here  we  are  without 
having  anything  to  eat !  " 

**  Well,  1  wonder  if  we  shall  be  planted  here  all  day  ?  The 
cavalry,  they  say,  is  what  is  blocking  the  road,"  exclaimed  an 
officer. 

"  Ekh  !  these  damned  Germans  don't  know  their  own  coun- 
try," said  another. 

**  What  division  are  you  ?  "  cried  an  adjutant,  riding  up  to 
them. 

"  The  Eighteenth." 

"  Then  why  are  you  here  ?  You  should  have  been  at  the 
front  long  since ;  you  won't  get  there  now  before  afternoon.'* 

"  Here's  a  stupid  piece  of  confusion ;  they  themselves  don't 
know  what  they're  up  to,"  said  the  officer,  and  he  rode  off. 

Then  a  general  passed  and  angrily  shouted  some  order  in  a 
language  that  wasn't  Russian. 

"  Tafa-lafa !  what  sort  of  stuff  is  he  jabbering !  can't  make 
out  a  thing  he  says,"  remarked  a  soldier  mimicking  the  general 
as  he  rode  off.  "  I'd  have  had  them  all  shot  down,  the  scoun- 
drels!" 

"  We  were  ordered  to  be  in  {x>sition  by  nine  o'clock,  and  now 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  831 

ve  have  not  got  half  way  there !  What  stupid  arrangements  ! " 
And  this  was  heard  on  all  sides,  and  the  feeling  of  energetic 
ardor  with  which  the  army  had  started  out,  began  to  be  wasted 
in  vexation  and  anger  against  the  arrangements  and  the  Ger- 
mans. 

The  cause  of  the  confusion  was  this :  —  after  the  Austrian 
cavalry  on  the  left  wing  had  set  forward,  those  who  had  charge 
of  it  came  to  the  conclusion  that  the  Russian  centre  was  too 
widely  separated  from  the  right,  and  all  the  cavalry  was  com- 
manded to  cross  over  to  the  right  side.  Several  thousands  of 
cavalrymen  rode  across  in  front  of  the  columns  of  infantry, 
and  the  infantry  had  to  wait  till  they  passed. 

At  the  front  a  dispute  had  risen  between  the  Austrian  guide 
and  a  Russian  general.  The  Russian  general  shouted  angrily, 
demanding  that  the  cavalry  should  stop.  The  Austrian  in- 
sisted that  he  was  not  to  blame,  but  his  superior  officers. 
Meantime  the  army  was  obliged  to  halt,  and  was  growing 
impatient  and  losing  spint.  After  an  hour's  delay,  the  troops 
at  last  began  to  move  forward  once  more,  and  found  them- 
selves descending  into  the  valley.  The  fog  which  had  been 
scattering  on  the  heights,  was  as  thick  as  ever  on  the  lower 
lands  where  they  were  now  marching.  In  front  of  them  in 
the  fog  one  shot,  then  a  second  was  fired,  incoherently  and  at 
different  points,  tratta  tat ;  and  then  the  firing  became  more 
regular  and  rapid,  and  the  engagement  fairly  began  over  the 
brook  called  Holdbach. 

As  the  troops  had  no  expectation  of  falling  in  with  the 
enemy  so  far  down  in  the  valley  as  the  brook,  and  then  met 
them  unexpectedly  in  the  fog ;  as  they  had  no  words  of  en- 
conragement  from  their  commanding  officers,  and  the  idea  w^s 
widespread  among  them  that  it  was  too  late,  and  moreover  as 
they  could  not  see  any  one  either  in  front  of  them  or  any- 
where near  them,  owing  to  the  density  of  the  fog,  they  apathet- 
ically and  lazily  exchanged  shots  with  the  enemy,  slowly 
moved  forward,  and  then  came  to  a  halt  again,  failing  to  receive 
m  time  the  word  of  command  from  their  officers  or  the  adju- 
tants who  wandered  at  haphazard  through  the  fog  in  places 
«ith  which  they  were  unacquainted,  and  in  search  of  their 
own  divisions. 

That  was  the  way  that  affairs  occurred  to  the  first,  second, 
and  third  columns  which  had  been  ordered  to  march  down  into 
the  valley.  The  fourth  column  which  Kutuzof  himself  had 
under  his  own  command,  was  stationed  on  the  heights  of  the 
rratzer. 


I 

i 


332  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

4 

In  the  lowlands,  where  the  battle  had  already  began,  the  fog 
seemed  thicker  than  ever,  but  on  the  heights  it  was  clear; 
still  nothing  could  be  seen  of  what  was  going  on  at  the  front 
Until  nine  o'clock  no  one  could  tell  whether  the  enemy  was  in 
his  full  strength,  as  we  supposed,  ten  versts  in  advance,  or  was 
down  there  in  that  impenetrable  fog. 

It  was  now  nine  o'clock.  The  fog  like  a  fathomless  sea 
spread  over  the  valley,  but  on  the  height  in  front  of  the  vil- 
lage of  Schlapanitz  on  the  height,  where  Napoleon  stood  sur- 
rounded by  his  marshals,  it  was  perfectly  bright.  Over  them 
was  the  blue  bright  heaven  and  the  mighty  sun,  like  a  gigau- 
tic,  hollow  ball  of  fire  just  rose  above  the  milk-white  sea  of 
fog.  The  French  troops  and  Napoleon  himself  with  his  staff 
were  not  on  the  farther  side  of  the  brooks,  and  the  hollows  of 
Sokolnitz  and  Schlapanitz  behind  which  we  had  exjjected  to 
take  up  our  position  and  begin  the  engagement,  but  they  had  all 
come  over  to  the  hither  side  and  were  so  near  our  troops  that 
Napoleon  with  his  naked  eye  could  distinguish  in  our  army  a 
horseman  from  an  infantry  soldier. 

Napoleon  mounted  on  his  little  gray  Arab,  and  wearing  tiie 
same  blue  cloak  in  which  he  had  made  the  whole  Italian  cam- 
paign, stood  a  little  in  jidvance  of  his  marshals.  He  silently 
gazed  at  the  summits  of  the  hills  seeming  to  emerge  from  the 
fog  and  watched  the  Russian  troops  moving  along  in  the  dis- 
tance, and  listened  to  the  sounds  of  firing  in  the  valley.  Not 
a  muscle  of  his  face  —  it  was  still  thin  —  moved,  his  glittering 
eyes  were  steadfastly  fixed  on  one  spot.  His  anticipations 
seemed  to  be  justified. 

The  Russian  troops  had  already  in  part  defiled  down  into 
the  ravine  toward  the  ponds  and  lakes,  and  part  of  them  were 
evacuating  the  heights  of  the  Pratzer  which  he  considered  the 
key  of  the  situation  and  intended  to  attack.  He  could  see  ainid 
the  fog  how  down  into  the  hollow  formed  by  the  two  high  hilLs 
near  the  village  of  Pratzen,  the  Russian  columns  with  glitter- 
ing bayonets  were  steadily  moving  in  one  direction  toward  the 
valley,  and  disappearing  one  after  another  into  the  sea  of  fog- 
By  the  reports  which  had  been  brought  him  the  evening 
before,  by  the  sounds  of  wheels  and  footsteps  that  had  heen 
heard  during  the  night  along  the  vanguard,  by  the  disonlerly 
movements  of  the  Russiiin  columns,  by  all  the  indications,  he 
clearly  saw  in  fact  that  the  allied  armies  supposed  him  to  be 
posted  a  long  distance  from  them,  that  the  columns  movii^ 
near  in  the  vicinity  of  Pratzen  constituted  the  centre  of  the 
Russian  army,  and  that  this  centre  was  weak  enough  to  justi^ 
him  in  giving  it  attack. 


J 


WAR  AND  PEACS.  8S3 

But  still  he  did  not  begin  the  battle. 

That  was  a  solemn  day  for  him,  the  anniversary  of  his  coro- 
nation. Just  before  morning  he  had  taken  a  nap  for  a  few 
hours,  and  then  waking,  healthy,  jovial,  fresh,  and  in  that 
happy  frame  of  mind  in  which  everything  seems  possible, 
success  certain,  he  mounted  his  horse  and  i*ode  out  into  the 
field.  He  stood  motionless,  gazing  at  the  hills  becoming  visi- 
ble through  the  fog,  and  into  his  cold  face  there  came  that 
peculiar  shade  of  self-confident,  well-deserved  happiness,  such 
as  is  sometimes  seen  on  the  face  of  a  young  lad  who  is  happy 
and  in  love. 

His  marshals  were  grouped  behind  him  and  did  not  venture 
to  distract  his  attention.  He  gazed  now  at  the  heights  of  the 
Pratzer,  now  at  the  sun  swimming  out  from  the  fog. 

When  the  sun  had  risen  clear  above  the  fog,  and  his  dazzling 
radiance  gushed  over  the  fields  and  the  fog,  as  though  this 
were  the  signal  for  which  he  was  waiting  to  begin  the  affair,  he 
drew  off  his  glove  from  his  handsome  white  hand,  beckoned 
bis  marshals,  and  gave  the  order  for  beginning  the  battle.  The 
marshals,  accompanied  by  their  aides,  galloped  off  in  different 
directions,  and  within  a  few  minutes  the  chief  forces  of  the 
French  army  were  in  rapid  motion  toward  those  same  heights 
of  the  Pratzer  which  the  Russian  troops  were  abandoning 
more  and  more  as  they  filed  to  the  left  and  into  the  vale. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

At  eight  o'clock  that  morning,  Kutuzof  had  ridden  up 
toward  the  Pratzer,  at  the  head  of  the  fourth  division  —  Milo- 
radovitch's  —  which  was  to  take  the  place  of  the  columns  of 
Prsczebiszhewsky  and  de  Langeron,  which  were  now  on  their 
way  down  into  the  valley.  He  greeted  the  men  of  the  fore- 
most regiment,  and  gave  the  word  of  command,  thereby  signi- 
fying that  he  intended  to  lead  that  column  in  person.  When 
he  reached  the  village  of  Pratzen,  he  halted.  Prince  Andrei, 
forming  one  of  his  large  staff,  stood  just  behind  him.  Prince 
Andrei  felt  stirred  and  excited,  and  at  the  same  time  self-con- 
fident and  calm,  as  is  apt  to  be  the  case  with  a  man  at  the  arrival 
^^  the  moment  which  he  has  been  anxiously  awaiting.  He 
wag  firmly  convinced  that  this  day  was  to  be  his  Toulon,  or 
liis  bridge  of  Areola.* 

^^  *  The  despeiate  battle  by  which  Napoleon  became  master  of  Italy,  Nov. 
14-n,lT9B.  *^  -^  *~ 


3S4  ^Ak  AND  PSACB. 

How  it  would  come  about  he  had  not  the  faintest  idea,  bat  lie 
was  firmly  convinced  that  it  would  be.  The  lay  of  the  land,  and 
the  position  of  our  forces  were  well  known  to  him,  so  far  as 
they  could  be  known  to  any  one  in  our  army.  His  own  strat- 
egical plan,  which  now  seemed  to  be  doomed  never  to  be  carried 
into  effect,  had  been  forgotten.  Having  made  himself  master 
of  Weirother's  scheme,  Prince  Andrei  wondered  what  possi- 
bilities might  rise  before  him,  and  began  to  make  new  combi- 
nations according  to  which  his  presence  of  mind  and  firmness 
might  be  called  into  request. 

Toward  the  left,  in  the  valley  below,  where  the  fog  lay. 
could  be  heard  the  musket  fires  of  the  unseen  opponents. 
There,  so  it  seemed  to  Prince  Andrei,  the  fighting  would  be 
hottest,  there  the  obstacles  would  be  met  with ;  "  and  there  I 
shall  be  sent,"  he  said  to  himself,  ^^  with  a  brigade  or  division, 
and  with  the  standard  in  my  hand,  I  shall  rush  on  and  con- 
quer everything  before  me.*' 

Prince  Andrei  could  not  look  at  the  standards  of  the  battal- 
ions passing  before  him  without  a  thrill.  As  he  looked  at  one 
he  kept  saying  to  himself :  ^'  Maybe  that  is  the  very  standard 
that  1  shall  seize  when  I  lead  the  army  to  the  front ! " 

The  nocturnal  fog  now  remained  on  the  heights  only  in  the 
form  of  hoar  frost,  which  was  rapidly  changing  into  dew ;  in 
the  hollows,  however,  it  still  spread  out  like  a  milk-white  sea. 
Nothing  could  be  discerned  in  that  fog  toward  the  left,  where 
our  troops  were  descending,  and  where  the  musketry  firing  was 
heard.  Over  the  heights  stretched  the  clear,  bright  sky,  and 
at  the  right  hung  the  monstrous  ball  of  the  sun.  Far  away, 
toward  the  front,  on  the  other  shore  of  the  sea  of  fog,  tbe 
wooded  hills  could  be  seen  rising.  There  the  enemy  must  be 
stationed,  and  there  some  object  coiild  be  distinguished. 

At  the  right,  the  Guards,  with  echoing  tramp,  and  rattling 
wheels,  and  occasionally  the  glint  of  bayonets,  were  passing 
down  into  the  dominion  of  the  fog.  At  the  left,  beyond  the 
village,  similar  masses  of  cavaJry  were  filing  down  and  disap- 
pearing from  view  in  the  sea  of  fog. 

In  fi-ont,  and  behind,  the  infantry  were  debouching. 

The  commander-in-chief  stationed  himself  at  the  entrance  of 
the  village,  and  allowed  the  troops  to  file  past  him.  Kutuaof 
that  morning  appeared  fatigued  and  irritated.  The  infantnr, 
filing  by  him,  came  to  a  halt  without  any  orders,  apparently 
because  they  had  come  in  contact  with  some  obstacle  ahead  of 
them. 

"  Go  and  tell  them  to  form  into  battalions  and  get  outside 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  885 

the  irillage,"  said  Kutuzof  to  a  general  who  came  ridiDg  along. 
*'How  is  it,  you  do  not  understand,  your  excellency,  my  dear 
sir/  that  it's  impossible  to  open  i*anks  so,  along  a  village  street, 
when  we  are  moving  against  the  enemy." 

^I  proposed  to  form  behind  the  village,  your  eminence," 
replied  the  general. 

Kutuzof  gave  him  a  saturnine  smile,  '^  You'd  be  in  a  fine 
condition,  deploying  your  front  in  presence  of  the  enemy ;  very 
fine  idea ! " 

''  The  enemy  are  still  a  long  way  off,  your  eminence.  Accord- 
ing to  the  plan  "  — 

"  The  plan ! "  cried  Kutuzof,  bitterly,  "  And  who  told  you 
that  ?     Be  good  enough  to  do  as  I  bid  you." 

« I  obey." 

" Man  cheTj^  whispered  Nesvitsky  to  Prince  Andrei,  " the 
old  man  is  as  surly  as  a  dog."  t 

An  Austrian  omcer,  in  a  white  uniform,  with  a  green  plume 
in  his  hat,  galloped  up  to  Kutuzof,  and  asked  him  in  the  name 
of  the  emperor,  whether  the  fourth  column  were  taking  part 
in  the  action. 

Kutuzof,  without  answering  him,  turned  around,  and  his 
glance  fell  accidentally  on  Prince  Andrei  who  was  stationed  near 
him.  \^en  he  noticed  Bolkonsky,  the  vicious  and  acrimon- 
ious expression  of  his  face  softened,  as  though  to  acknowledge 
that  he  was  not  to  blame  for  what  was  taking  place.  And  still 
without  answering  the  Austrian  adjutant,  he  turned  to  Bolkon- 
sky, and  said  in  French :  ''  Cro  ana  see,  my  dear,  if  the  third 
division  has  passed  the  village  yet :  command  them  to  halt 
and  await  my  orders." 

As  soon  as  Prince  Andrei  started,  he  called  him  back, — 

''  And  ask  if  the  skirmishers  are  posted,  and  what  they  are 
doing.  What  they  are  doing,"  \  he  repeated  to  himself,  still 
paying  no  attention  to  the  Austrian. 

Prince  Andrei  galloped  off  to  execute  this  order. 

Outstripping  the  battalions,  which  were  all  the  time  press- 
ing forward,  he  halted  the  third  division,  and  convinced  him- 
self that  no  skirmishers  had  been  thrown  out  in  front  of  our 
columns.  The  general  in  command  of  the  foremost  regiment 
was  greatly  amazed  at  the  order  from  the  commander-in-chief 
to  throw  out  sharpshooters.     The  regimental  commander  was 

*  "  Vdshe  privo$khoditehtvo  milottHmti  tfotuddr** 

^  "  Le  vieitx  ett  *Vutie  humeur  de  chien." 

t  "  Alhz  voir,  mon  cher,  si  la  troishne  division  a  dSpass^  le  village.  Dites 
hii  de  s'arriter  et  d'attendre  mes  ordres,  Et  demandez  lui  si  Us  tirailleurs 
9fmipo9i€t ;  ce  qti*H/ont,  ce  qu*il/ont." 


336  tVAR  AND  PEACS. 

firmly  assured  in  his  own  mind  that  other  troops  were  in  front 
of  him  and  that  the  enemy  could  not  be  less  than  ten  versts  dis- 
tant. In  reality,  nothing  could  be  discerned  in  front  of  them 
except  waste  ground  which  sloped  down,  and  was  shrouded  in 
fog.  After  giving  him  the  commander-in-chiefs  orders  to  re- 
pair his  negligence,  Prince  Andrei  galloped  back.  Kutuzof 
was  still  in  the  same  place,  and  with  his  fat  body  sit- 
ting in  a  dumpy  position  in  his  saddle,  was  yawning  heavily, 
with  his  eyes  closed.  The  troops  had  not  yet  moved,  but  stood 
with  grounded  arms. 

"  Good,  very  good,"  said  he  to  Prince  Andrei,  and  turned  to 
the  genenil,  who,  holding  his  watch  in  his  hand,  said  that  it 
must  be  time  to  move,  since  all  the  columns  had  already  gone 
down  from  the  left  wing. 

"  Time  enough,  your  excellency,"  said  Kutuzof. 

"  We  shall  have  time  enough,"  he  repeated. 

At  this  time,  behind  Kutuzof,  were  heard  the  sounds  of  the 
regiments  in  the  distance,  cheering,  and  these  voices  quickly 
ran  along  the  whole  extent  of  the  line  of  the  Kussian  columns 
under  march. 

It  was  evident  that  the  one  whom  they  were  greeting,  was 
approaching  rapidly.  When  the  soldiers  of  the  regiment  at 
whose  head  Kutuzof  was  stationed,  began  to  cheer,  he  rode  a 
little  to  one  side  and  glanced  around  with  a  frown.  Along 
the  road  from  Pratzen  came  what  appeared  to  be  a  squadron 
of  gay-colored  horsemen.  Two  of  them  at  a  round  gallop 
rode  side  by  side  ahead  of  the  others.  One  was  in  a  black 
uniform  with  a  white  plume,  on  a  chestnut  horse  groomed  in 
the  English  style ;  the  other  in  a  white  uniform  on  a  coal  black 
steed.     These  were  the  two  emperors  with  their  suite. 

Kutuzof,  with  an  affectation  of  "the  thorough  soldier" 
found  at  his  post,  shouted  "  ^mtmo,"  "  eyes  front,"  to  the  sol- 
diers halting  near  him,  and  saluting  rode  toward  the  emperor. 
His  whole  figure  and  manner  had  suddenly  undergone  a  change. 
He  had  assumed  the  mien  of  a  subordinate,  of  a  man  ready  to 
surrender  his  own  will.  With  an  affectation  of  deference, 
which  evidently  was  not  pleasing  to  the  ^mperor  Alexander, 
he  came  tojneet  him  and  saluted  him. 

This  impression  crossed  the  young  and  happy  face  of  the 
emperor,  and  disappeared  like  the  mist  wreaths  in  the  clear 
sky.  After  his  indisposition  he  was  a  trifle  thinner  that  day 
than  he  had  been  on  the  field  of  Olmutz  where  Bolkonsky  had 
for  the  first  time  seen  him  abroad.  There  was  the  same  en- 
chanting union  of  majesty  and  sweetness  in  his  beautiful  gray 


WAR  AND  PEACS.  837 

eyee,  and  on  his  thin  lips  the  same  possibility  of  varied  feel- 
ings, and  the  same  predominating  expression  of  beneficent, 
innocent  youth. 

At  the  review  at  Olmtitz  he  had  been  more  majestic ;  here 
he  was  happier  and  more  full  of  energy.  His  face  was  a  trifle 
flushed  after  his  gallop  of  three  versts,  and  as  he  reined  in  his 
horse  he  drew  a  long  breath  and  glanced  around  into  the  faces 
of  his  suite,  all  young  men  like  himself,  and  like  himself  all 
full  of  life.  Czartorisky  and  Novosiltsof  and  Prince  Volkon- 
sky  and  Stroganof  and  many  others,  all  richly  dressed,  jovial 
young  men  on  handsome,  well-groomed,  fresh-looking  and 
slightly  sweating  horses,  chatting  and  laughing  together, 
formed  a  group  behind  the  sovereign. 

The  Emperor  Franz,  a  florid  young  man,  with  a  long  face, 
sat  bolt  upright  in  his  saddle  on  his  handsome  black  stallion, 
and  slowly  glanced  around  him  with  an  anxious  expres- 
sion. He  beckoned  to  one  of  his  white-uniformed  aides  and 
asked  him  some  question.  "  Probably  he  asked  at  what  hour 
they  had  come,"  thought  Prince  Andrei,  gazing  at  his  old 
aequaintance  with  a  smile  which  he  could  not  repress  at  the 
thought  of  his  audience.  The  emperors'  suite  was  composed 
of  young  orderlies,  Austrian  and  Eussian,  selected  from  the 
regiments  of  the  Guards  and  of  the  Line.  Grooms  had  brought 
with  them  handsome  reserve  horses  in  embroidered  caparisons 
for  the  emperors. 

Just  as  when  a  fresh  breeze  from  the  fields  breathes  through 
an  open  window  into  a  stuffy  chamber,  so  these  brilliant  young 
men  brought  with  them  to  Kutuzof's  dispirited  staff  the  sense 
of  youth  and  energy  and  confidence  in  victory. 

"Why  don't  you  begin,  Mikhail  Larionovitch  ?  "  impatiently 
demanded  the  Emperor  Alexander,  turning  to  Kutuzof,  at  the 
same  time  looking  courteously  toward  the  Emperor  Franz. 

"  I  was  waiting,  your  majesty,"  replied  Kutuzof,  deferenti- 
ally bowing  low.  The  emperor  leaned  toward  him,  frowning 
slightly,  and  giving  him  to  understand  that  he  did  not  hear. 

"  I  was  waiting,  your  majesty,"  repeated  Kutuzof,  and  Prince 
Andrei  noticed  thai^  Kutuzof  s  upper  lip  curled  unnaturally 
when  he  repeated  the  words,  "  I  was  waiting."  "  The  columns 
have  not  all  assembled,  your  majesty." 

The  sovereign  heard,  but  the  answer  evidently  displeased 
him;  he  shrugged  his  drooping  shoulders,  glanced  at  Novo- 
siltsof  who  was  standing  near  him,  and  his  glance  seemed  to 
imply  a  certain  compassion  for  Kutuzof. 

"  We  are  not  on  the  Empress's  Field,  Mikhail  Larionovitch, 
VOL.  1.— 22. 


8S8  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

where  the  review  is  not  begun  until  all  the  reg^iinents  are  pres- 
ent/' said  the  emperor,  again  glancing  into  the  Emperor 
Franz's  eyes,  as  if  to  ask  him  if  he  would  not  take  part  so 
that  he  might  listen  to  what  he  might  say ;  but  the  Emperor 
Franz  who  was  still  gazing  about  did  not  heed  him. 

"  That's  the  very  reason  I  do  not  begin,  sire,"  said  Kutuzo^ 
in  a  ringing  voice,  seeming  to  anticipate  the  possibility  that  the 
emperor  might  not  see  Ht  to  hear  him,  and  again  a  peculiar 
look  passed  over  his  face.  ^^  That's  the  very  reason  that  I  do 
not  begin,  sire,  because  we  are  not  on  parade  and  not  on  the 
Empress's  Field,"  he  repeated,  clearly  and  distinctly. 

The  faces  of  all  those  composing  the  emperor's  suite  ex- 
pressed annoyance  and  reproach^  as  they  hastily  exchanged 
glances  on  hearing  these  words.  '*  No  matter  if  he  is  old,  he 
ought  not,  he  never  ought  to  speak  in  that  way,"  the  faces 
seemed  to  say. 

"  However,  if  you  give  the  order,  your  majesty,"  said  Eutu- 
zof,  raising  his  head  and  again  assuming  that  former  tone  of  a 
general  ready  to  listen  to  orders  and  to  obey.  He  turned  his 
horse,  beckoning  to  Division-Commander  Miloradovitch,  he 
gave  him  the  order  to  attack. 

The  troops  were  again  set  in  motion,  and  two  battalions  of 
the  Novgorodsky  regiment  and  one  battalion  of  the  Apsheron 
regiment  filed  forward  past  the  emperor.  While  this  Apshe- 
ron battalion  was  passing,  the  florid  Miloradovitch,  without  his 
cloak  and  with  his  uniform  covered  with  orders,  and  his  hat 
decorated  with  an  immense  plume  and  set  on  one  side  with  the 
point  forward,  galloped  forward  and  gallantly  saluting,  reined 
in  his  horse  in  front  of  the  sovereign. 

"  S  Bogom,  God  be  with  you  general,"  exclaimed  the  em- 
peror. 

"We  will  do  our  best,  sire,"  replied  the  other  cheerily;* 
nevertheless  the  gentlemen  of  the  suite  could  not  refrain  £rom 
smiling  contemptuously  at  the  execrable  way  in  which  he  pro- 
nounced his  French. 

Miloradovitch  turned  his  horse  sharply  round  and  remained 
a  short  distance  behind  the  emperor.  Thp  Apsheron  boys,  in- 
spirited by  the  presence  of  their  sovereign,  marched  by  the 
emperors  and  their  suite  with  lively,  gallant  strides,  keeping 
perfect  time. 

"  Children ! "  cried  Miloradovitch  in  a  loud,  self-confident, 
and  cheering  voice,  evidently  roused  by  the  sounds  of  the 
firing,  the  expectation  of  the  battle,  and  the  sight  of  the  Ap- 
*  Ma/oi  sire  I  nous/erons  ce  qve  qui  sera  dans  iiotre  poMsibUit^. 


WAR  ASb  PEACE.  8Sd 

sbeion  boys,  who  had  been  his  comiades  in  the  campaigns  with 
Snrarof,  and  were  now  briskly  marching  past  the  emperors, 
and  roused  to  such  a  pitch  that  he  forgot  that  the  sovereign 
was  present :  '*  Children !  this  is  not  the  first  Tillage  that  you 
have  had  to  take,"  he  cried. 

"Do  our  best,"  cried  the  soldiers.  The  emperor's  mare 
started  at  the  unexpected  shout.  This  mare  which  the  empe- 
ror had  ridden  before  during  other  reviews  in  Russia,  here  on 
the  battlefield  of  Austerlitz  carried  her  rider,  not  noticing  the 
captious  thrusts  of  his  left  heel,  pricking  up  her  ears  at  the 
soonds  of  the  musketry  firing,  just  as  she  did  on  the  Field  of 
iLurs,*  not  realizing  the  significance  of  those  re-echoing  vol- 
%s,  nor  of  the  neighborhood  of  the  Emperor  Franz's  black 
stallion,  nor  of  what  the  man  who  on  that  day  sat  upon  her 
back  said,  thought,  felt. 

The  sovereign  with  a  smile  turned  to  one  of  his  immediate 
suite  and  pointing  to  the  Apsheron  lads  made  some  remark. 


•  CHAPTER  XVL 

KuTuzoF,  accompanied  by  his  aids,  rode  slowly  after  the 
carabiniers.  After  riding  half  a  verst,  he  caught  up  with  the 
rear  end  of  the  column,  and  halted  at  a  single  deserted  house  — 
it  had  apparently  been  a  drinking  house  —  near  the  junction 
of  two  roads.  Both  roads  led  down  into  the  valley,  and  both 
were  crowded  with  troops. 

The  fog  began  to  disperse  and  already,  two  versts  away, 
could  be  seen,  though  as  yet  indistinctly,  the  ranks  of  the 
enemy  on  the  heights  opposite.  Down  in  the  valley  at  the 
left,  the  firing  was  growing  more  violent.  Kutuzof  halted, 
discussing  some  point  with  the  Austrian  general.  Prince 
Andrei,  sitting  on  his  horse  a  little  distance  behind,  gazed  at 
^liem,  and  then,  wishing  to  obtain  the  use  of  a  field-glass, 
turned  to  one  of  the  aids  who  had  one. 

"  Look  !  look ! "  exclaimed  this  adjutant,  turning  his  glass 
not  at  the  distant  host,  but  to  the  hill  nearly  in  front  of  them, 
"  Look,  there  are  the  French ! " 

The  two  generals  and  the  adjutants  reached  after  the  glass, 
one  taking  it  from  the  other.  AH  the  faces  suddenly  changed, 
and  an  expression  of  dismay  came  into  them. 

*  The  Ttarittuin  Lug,  Tsaritsa  or  Empress's  Field  is  also  called  Marsovoye 
poie. 


340  H\iH  AND  PEACE. 

They  expected  to  find  the  French  two  versts  away^  and 
there  they  were  unexpectedly  appearing  right  at  hand. 

« Is  that  the  enemy  ?  "  —  "  It  can't  be ! "  —  "  Yes,  look, 
they" — "Certainly  it  is."  —  "What  does  it  mean?"  ex- 
claimed various  voices. 

Prince  Andrei  with  his  naked  eye  could  see  a  dense  mass  of 
the  French  moving  up  at  the  right  to  meet  the  Apsheron  boys, 
not  more  than  five  hundred  paces  from  the  veiy  spot  where 
Kutuzof  was  standing. 

"  Here  it  is  !  the  decisive  moment  is  at  hand !  my  chance 
has  come ! "  said  Prince  Andrei,  and  starting  up  his  hoise  he 
approached  Kutuzof.  '^The  Apsheron  men  ought  to  be 
halted,  your  eminence,"  he  cried. 

But  at  that  very  instant  all  became  veiled  in  smoke ;  the 
rattle  of  musketry  sounded  near  them,  and  a  naively  terrified 
voice  only  two  steps  from  Prince  Andrei  cried,  "  Well  broth- 
ers, it's  ail  up  with  us  ! "  and  this  voice  seemed  to  be  a  com- 
mand.     At  this  voice  all  started  to  run. 

Confused  but  still  constantly  increasing  throngs  ran  back 
by  the  very  same  place  where  five  minutes  before,  the  troops 
had  filed  so  proudly  past  the  emperors-  Not  only  was  it  hard 
to  arrest  these  fugitives,  but  it  was  even  impossible  not  to  be 
borne  back  by  the  mob.  Bolkonsky  could  only  struggle  not 
to  let  them  pass  him,  and  he  gazed  around  finding  it  quite  out 
of  the  question  to  understand  what  was  taking  place  at  the 
front.  Nesvitsky  with  angry  face,  flushed  and  quite  unlike 
himself,  cried  to  Kutuzof  that  if  he  did  not  instantly  come 
away,  he  would  bo  probably  taken  prisoner.  Kutuzof  still 
stayed  in  the  same  place  and  without  answering,  took  out  his 
handkerchief.  A  stream  of  blood  was  trickling  from  his  face. 
Prince  Andrei  forced  his  way  through  to  where  he  was. 

"You  are  wounded?"  he  asked,  scarcely  controlling  the 
trembling  of  his  lower  jaw. 

"  The  wound  is  not  here  but  yonder,"  said  Kutuzof,  press- 
ing his  handkerchief  to  his  wounded  cheek,  and  pointing  to 
the  fugitives.  "  Halt  them  ! "  he  cried,  and  at  the  same  time, 
evidently  convinced  that  it  was  an  impossibility  to  bring 
them  to  a  halt,  he  gave  spurs  to  his  horse  and  rode  off  to  the 
right.  New  masses  of  fugitives  came  pouring  along  like  a 
torrent,  engulfed  him,  and  bore  him  along  with  them. 

The  troops  were  pouring  back  in  such  a  dense  throng,  that 
when  one  was  once  entangled  in  the  midst  of  it,  there  was 
great  difiiculty  in  extricating  one's  self.  Some  shouted: 
"  He's  coming,  why  don't  you  let  him  pass  ?  "     Others  turned 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  841 

around  and  fired  their  muskets  into  the  air ;  others  struck  the 
horse  on  which  'Kutuzof  rode,  but  by  the  exercise  of  supreme 
force,  Kutuzof  —  accompanied  by  his  staff,  diminished  by  more 
than  half  —  struggled  through  to  the  left  and  rode  off  is^  the 
direction  of  cannonading  heard  not  far  away. 

Prince  Andrei,  also  forcing  his  way  through  the  throng  of 
fugitives  and  endeavoring  not  to  become  separated  from 
Kutuzof,  could  make  out  through  the  reek  of  gunpowder 
smoke,  a  Russian  battery  on  the  side  of  the  hill,  still  blazing 
away  vigorously,  while  the  French  were  just  marching  against 
it  A  little  higher  up  stood  the  Russian  infantry,  neither 
moving  forward  to  the  aid  of  the  battery,  nor  back  in  the 
same  direction  with  the  fugitives.  A  general  spurred  down 
from  this  brigade  of  infantry,  and  approached  Kutuzof.  Out 
of  KutuzoFs  staff  only  four  men  were  left,  and  all  were  pale 
aud  silently  exchanged  glances. 

"  Stop  those  poltroons !  "  cried  Kutuzof,  all  out  of  breath,  as 
the  regimental  commander  came  up  to  him,  and  pointing  to 
the  fugitives  ;  but  at  that  very  second,  as  though  for  a  punish- 
ment for  those  words,  like  a  bevy  of  birds  a  number  of  bullets 
flew  buzzing  over  the  heads  of  the  regiment  and  of  Kutuzof  s 
staif.  The  French  were  charging  the  battery,  and  when  they 
caught  sight  of  Kutuzof  they  aimed  at  him. 

At  this  volley,  the  regimental  commander  suddenly  clapped 
his  hand  to  his  leg ;  a  few  soldiers  fell  and  an  ensign  stand- 
ing with  the  flag  dropped  it  from  his  hand ;  the  flag  reeled 
and  fell,  catching  on  the  bayonets  of  the  soldiers  near  him. 
The  men  began  to  load  and  Are  without  orders. 

"  0-o-o-okh ! "  groaned  Kutuzof,  with  an  expression  of  de- 
spair, and  glanced  around.  "  Bolkonsky,"  he  whispered,  his 
weak  old  man's  voice  trembling  with  emotion,  "  Bolkonsky ! " 
he  whispered,  pointing  to  the  demoralized  battalion  and  at 
the  enemy,  "  What  does  this  mean  ?  " 

But  before  he  had  uttered  these  words.  Prince  Andrei,  con- 
scious of  the  tears  of  shame  and  anger  choking  him,  had  al- 
ready leaped  from  his  horse  and  rushed  toward  the  standard. 

"Children,  follow  me!"  he  cried  in  his  youthfully  penetra- 
ting voice.  "  Here  it  is,"  thought  Prince  Andrei  as  he  seized 
the  flagstaff ;  and  he  listened  with  rapture  to  the  whizz  of  the 
ballets,  that  were  evidently  directed  straight  at  him.  A  num- 
ber of  the  soldiers  fell. 

"  Hurrah ! "  cried  Prince  Andrei,  instantly  seizing  the  flag 
and  rushing  forward  with  unfailing  confidence  that  the  whole 
battalion  would  follow  him. 


842  ^y^^ii  ^^I>  PEACE, 

In  fact  he  ran  on  only  a  few  steps  alone.  Then  one  soldier 
was  stirred,  and  then  another,  and  the  whole  battalion  with 
huzzas  dashed  forward  and  overtook  him.  A  non-commis- 
sioned officer  of  the  battalion  grasped  the  standard,  whieii 
from  its  weight  shook  in  Prince  Andrei's  hand,  but  he  was 
instantly  shot  down.  Prince  Andrei  again  grasped  the  flag 
and,  dragging  it  along  by  the  staff,  followed  after  the 
battalion. 

In  front  of  him,  he  saw  our  artillerymen,  some  fighting, 
others  abandoning  the  guns  and  running  toward  him ;  he  also 
saw  the  French  infantry,  who  had  seized  tlie  artillery  horses 
and  were  reversing  tlie  iield-pieces. 

Prince  Andrei  and  the  battalion  were  now  only  twenty  j)aces 
distant  from  the  battery.  He  heard  the  incessant  whizzing  of 
the  bullets  over  his  head,  and  the  soldiers  constantly  groaning 
and  falling  at  his  left  hand  and  at  his  right.  But  he  did  not 
look  at  them;  his  eyes  were  fastened  only  on  what  was  going 
on  in  front  of  him,  where  the  battery  was  He  now  saw  dis- 
tinctly a  red-headed  artilleryman,  with  his  shako  knocked  in 
and  on  one  side,  struggling  with  a  French  soldier  for  the  pos- 
session of  a  ramrod.  Prince  Andrei  distinguished  clearly  the 
distorted  and  angry  faces  of  these  two  men,  who  evidently 
were  not  aware  of  what  they  were  doing. 

"  What  are  they  up  to  ?  "  queried  Prince  Andrei,  as  he 
looked  at  them.  "  Why  doesn't  the  sandy  artillerist  run,  if  he 
has  no  weapons,  and  why  doesn't  the  Frenchman  finish  him? 
He  wouldn't  have  time  to  get  any  distance  though,  before  the 
Frenchman  would  recollect  his  musket  and  put  an  end  to 
him." 

In  point  of  fact,  another  Frenchman,  with  pointed  bayonet, 
ran  up  to  the  combatants,  and  the  fate  of  the  red-headed  artil- 
lerist, who  had  no  idea  of  what  was  coming  upon  him,  and  had 
i'ust  triumphantly  made  himself  master  of  the  ramrod,  must 
tave  been  sealed.  But  Prince  Andrei  did  not  witness  the  end 
of  the  struggle.  It  seemed  to  him  as  though  one  of  the  ap- 
proaching soldiers  struck  him  in  the  head  with  the  full  weight 
of  a  cudgel.  It  was  rather  painful,  but  his  chief  sensation 
was  that  of  displeasure  because  it  distracted  his  attention, 
and  prevented  him  from  seeing  what  he  had  been  looking  at. 

"  What  does  this  mean  ?  Am  I  falling  ?  Surely  my  legs 
are  giving  way,"  he  said  to  himself,  and  he  fell  on  his  back. 
He  opened  his  eyes,  hoping  to  see  how  the  struggle  between  the 
artilleryman  and  the  Frenchman  ended,  and  anxious  to  know 
whether  or  not  the  red-headed  artillerist  was  killed  or  not,  and 


I 

J 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  343 

ihe  caonon  saved  or  captured.  But  lie  could  see  nothing  of  it. 
Over  him,  he  could  see  nothing  except  the  sky,  the  lofty  sky ; 
no  longer  clear,  but  still  immeasurably  lofty,  and  with  light 
gray  clouds  slowly  wandering  over  it. 

"  How  still,  calm,  and  solemn !  How  entirely  different  from 
when  I  was  running,"  said  Prince  Andrei  to  himself.  "  It  was 
not  so  when  we  were  all  running,  and  shouting,  and  fighting ; 
how  entirely  different  it  is  from  when  the  Frenchman  and  the 
artilleryman,  with  vindictive  and  frightened  faces,  were  strug- 
ghng  for  possession  of  the  ramrod ;  it  wasn't  so  that  the  clouds 
then  floated  over  those  infinite  depths  of  sky.  How  is  it  that 
I  never  before  saw  this  lofty  sky  ?  and  how  glad  I  am  that  I 
have  learned  to  know  it  at  last !  Yes !  all  is  empty,  all  is 
deception,  except  these  infinite  heavens.  Nothing,  nothing  at 
all,  beside  !  And  even  that  is  nothing  but  silence  and  peace ! 
And  thank  God !  "— 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

At  nine  o'clock,  the  right  wing,  under  Bagration,  had  not  as 
yet  begun  to  fight.  Unwilling  to  acquiesce  in  Dolgorukhof 's  urg- 
ency to  begin  the  battle,  and  anxious  to  escape  the  responsi- 
bility, Prince  Bagration  proposed  to  the  latter  to  send  and 
Daake  inquiries  of  the  commander-in-chief.  Bagration  knew 
that  as  the  distance  separating  the  two  wings  was  almost  ten 
Tersts,  the  messenger,  if  he  were  not  killed,  which  was  very 
probable,  and  even  if  he  found  the  commander-in-chief,  which 
would  be  extremely  difficult,  would  not  have  time  to  return 
till  late  in  the  afternoon. 

Bagration  glanced  over  his  staff,  with  his  great,  expression- 
less, sleepy  eyes,  and  was  involuntarily  attracted  by  Rostof's 
boyish  face,  full  of  e^i^citemeut  and  hope.  He  chose  him  for 
the  messenger. 

"And  if  I  should  meet  his  majesty  first,  before  I  found  the 
commander-in-chief,  your    illustriousness  ? "    asked    Rostof, 
touching  his  cap  visor. 
I       "You  can  give  the  message  to  his  majesty,"  said  Dolgoru- 
'    khof,  taking  the  words  out  of  Bagration's  mouth. 

After  he  was  relieved  at  the  outposts,  Rostof  had  been  able 

to  catch  a  few  hours'  sleep  before  morning,  and  felt  happy, 

fitll  of  daring  and  resolution,  and  brrmraing  over  with  elasti- 

1    city  of  motion  and  confidence  in  his  own  good  fortune.    In  such 

I    a  9tate  of  mind,  everything  seems  easy^  bright,  and  possible. 


344  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

All  his  desires  had  been  fulfilled  that  morning :  a  general 
engagement  was  to  be  fought;  he  was  to  take  part  in  it ;  more- 
over, he  had  been  made  orderly  on  the  staff  of  one  of  the 
bravest  generals;  nay,  more,  he  was  intrusted  with  a  mes- 
sage to  Kutuzof,  and  might  have  to  deliver  it  to  the  sovereign 
himself ! 

The  morning  was  clear  and  bright ;  the  horse  that  he  rode 
was  excellent.  His  heart  was  full  of  joy  and  courage.  Hav- 
ing received  his  instructions,  he  struck  in  the  spurs  and 
galloped  off  along  the  line.  At  first,  he  passed  in  front  of 
Bagration's  forces,  which  had  not  as  yet  engaged,  and  were 
ranged  in  motionless  ranks.  Then  he  rode  into  the  space  oecu^ 
pied  by  Uvarof's  cavalry,  and  here  he  began  to  remark  some 
excitement  and  indications  of  readiness  for  battle  ;  after  pass- 
ing Uvarof 's  cavalry,  he  began  to  distinguish  clearly  the  sounds 
of  cannonading  and  musketry  in  front  of  him.  The  firing  kept 
growing  more  violent.  ' 

The  morning  air  was  fresh  and  clear,  and  it  was  no  longer  fir- 
ing at  irregular  intervals,  two  or  three  shots  at  a  time,  and  then 
one  or  two  cannon  shots  ;  but  along  the  declivities  of  the  hills 
in  front  of  Pratzen  was  heard  the  thunder  of  musketry,  domi- 
nated by  such  frequent  reports  from  the  heavy  guns,  that  often 
a  number  of  them  could  not  be  distinguished  apart,  but  mingled 
in  one  general  rumble. 

It  could  be  seen  how  over  the  mountain  side,  the  puffs  of 
smoke  from  the  muskets  seemed  to  run  along,  chasing  each 
other,  and  how  the  great  clouds  of  smoke  from  the  cannon 
rolled  whirling  up,  spread  and  mingled  in  the  air.  By  the 
glint  of  bayonets  through  the  smoke,  the  masses  of  infantry 
could  be  seen  moving  along,  and  the  narrow  ribbons  of  artil- 
lery, with  their  green  caissons. 

Rostof  reined  in  his  horse  on  a  hilltop  for  a  moment,  in  order 
to  watch  what  was  going  on ;  but  in  spite  of  the  closeness  of 
his  scrutiny,  he  could  not  make  out  or  decide  for  himself  from 
what  he  saw  :  what  men  were  moving  in  the  smoke,  or  what 
bodies  of  the  troops  were  hurrying  this  way  and  that,  back  and 
forth. 

"  But  why  ?  Who  are  they  ?  Where  are  they  going  ?  "  It 
was  impossible  to  tell. 

This  spectacle  did  not  arouse  in  him  any  melancholy  or 
timid  feelings ;  on  the  contrary  they  filled  him  with  new  energy 
and  zeal. 

"  Well,  then,  give  it  to  them  again  ! "  said  he,  mentally  re- 
plying to  these  souuds;  and  again  he  started  on  a  gallop  along 


1 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  345 

the  lines,  making  his  way  farther  and  farther  within  the 
domain  of  the  troops  already  now  entering  into  the  action. 

"  How  this  is  going  to  turn  out  yonder  I  do  not  know,  but 
it  will  be  all  right !  "  thought  Kostof. 

Having  passed  by  some  of  the  troops  of  the  Austrian  army, 
Bostof  noticed  that  the  portion  of  the  Line  next  —  they  were 
the  Guards  —  were  already  moving  to  the  attack. 

"  So  much  the  better,  I  can  see  it  close  at  hand ! "  he  said 
to  himself. 

He  was  now  riding  along  almost  at  the  very  front.  A  num- 
ber of  horsemen  were  galloping  in  his  direction.  These  were 
our  Leib-Uhlans  who,  with  broken  and  disorderly  ranks  were 
returning  from  the  charge.  Kostof  passed  them  and  could 
not  help  noticing  that  one  of  them  was  covered  with  blood, 
bat  he  galloped  on. 

^  That's  of  no  consequence  to  me,"  he  said  to  himself.  He 
had  ridden  only  a  few  hundred  paces  farther,  when  he  per- 
ceived at  his  left,  coming  down  upon  him,  an  immense  body  of 
cavalry  extending  the  whole  length  of  the  held  and  likely  to 
cross  his  path.  They  were  on  coal-black  horses,  and  dressed 
in  brilliant  white  uniforms. 

Kostof  spurred  his  horse  at  full  speed,  so  as  to  get  out  of 
the  way  of  these  cavalry  men,  and  he  would  easily  have  done 
80  had  they  kept  on  at  the  same  pace  all  the  time,  but  they 
rode  faster  and  faster,  and  some  of  the  horses  were  almost 
upon  him.  Eostof  distinguished  more  and  more  clearly  the 
trampling  of  their  feet  and  the  jingling  of  their  arms,  and 
ootdd  see  more  and  more  distinctly  their  horses,  their  figures, 
and  their  faces.  These  were  our  "  Cavalier-guards  "  on  their 
way  to  charge  the  French  cavalry  who  were  deploying  to  meet 
them. 

The  Cavfilier-guards  came  galloping  along,  still  keeping 
their  horses  under  restraint.  Kostof  could  already  see  their 
faces,  and  hear  the  word  of  command  spoken  by  the  officer  — 
Mdrsch  !  marsch  !  —  who  was  urging  on  his  blooded  charger. 

Rostof,  afraid  of  being  crushed  or  carried  away  into  the 
charge  against  the  French,  spurred  along  the  front  with  all 
the  speed  that  he  could  get  out  of  his  horse,  and  still  it 
seemed  as  though  he  were  going  to  fail  of  it.  The  last 
rider  in  the  Line,  a  pock-marked  man  of  giant  frame,  frowned 
angrily  when  he  saw  Kostof  in  front  of  him,  knowing  that 
they  must  infallibly  come  into  collision.  This  Guardsman 
would  surely  have  overthrown  Rostof,  —  for  Kostof  himself 
could  not  help  seeing  how  small  and  slight  he  and  Bedouin 


w 


t- 


^ 


344  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

All  his  desires  had  been  fulfilled  that  mgr 
engagement  was  to  be  fought ;  he  was  to  \a^.' 
over,  he  had  been  made  orderly  on  thjpT<  ?S 
bravest  generals;  nay,  more,  he  was  K^.-^  ^: 
sage  to  Kutuzof,  and  might  have  to  d'-^  -  '-^  \ 
himself!  ^^^^^  -- 

The  morning  was  clear  and  brigj|^^  f;"/  "^ 
was  excellent.     His  heart  was  f ul  4^7.  '    ^• 
ing  received    his  instructions,    jr^"';     \ 
galloped  off  along  the  line.     .';  :<  '^'  >k 
Bagration's  forces,  which  ha/"  ^  ^*  j^  t^' 
ranged  in  motionless  ranks.        ^.  t  \ 
pied  by  Uvarof's  cavalry,  ?.  j 
excitement  and  indication'    '\ 
ing  UvaroFs  cavalry,  he  b   <^ 
of  cannonading  and  mu^  -  \   \     ^- 
growing  more  violent.      ;  f  •••  ^  .^^  ^^i^ei^ 

The  morning  air  wr       J  ° 

ing  at  irregulax-  inte    ;  ■'  „  Cavalier-guaris." 

one  or  two  cannon  •     "\^  ""''  .  J^**    t.  J"  t«rri- 

in  front  of  I'ratz  ■\  «o  much  ^mired.    I*  "M  »m 

nated  by  such  f-  "^ard  afterward  that  of  f  ^  ,2 

a  number  of  th         ^  yo"°S  S^^""^'  ^""^  ^^  ^^\  """i'  Sd 

in  nno  «onor'         officers  and  yuukers  mounted  on  spienoi" 

iS'      >FdpaBt  him,  only  eighteen  were  left  al.ve 

Stan"  iiS'l  envy  them  ?  My  turn  will  come  jn^^ 
rolled  T  .  "  Ts<*<?  <^^®  sovereign  very  soon  now,"  thougnt  iw»«^ » 

S"^"^^  "hSne  up  to  the  infantry  of  the  Guards,  his  atten- 
l^rv  ''''<  c^l^^  to  the  fact  that  shot  and  shell  were^ 
"  ^^  J,^u  and  around  them,  not  so  much  because  he  ae^ 
t(  ''^iiiuis  of  the  missiles,  as  because  he  saw  dismay  on  tfl^ 
r  .f'  ^^^(  the  soldiers  and  an  unnatural  martial  solemnity 
'^''1  Ls  of  the  officers.  .  .r 

^.5  he  was  riding  behind  one  of  the  infantry  regiments 
*  CTiiard,  he  heard  a  voice  calling  him  by  name. 

'*::Bostof!" 


I         I  What'is  it  ?  "  he  replied,  not  seeing  that  it  was  ^J[**-^„t 
,« What  do  you  think  of  this  ?     We  were  put  in  the  i^ 
i         Mni^     Our  regiment  has  been  in  a  charge,"  said  Boris, 


iiig  with  the  happy  smile  such  as  young  men  wear 
have  been  for  the  first  time  under  fire.     Eostof  drew  up. 

"  Have  you  indeed  ! "  said  he,  "and  how  was  it?     ii.«*ife. 

"Repulsed,"  said  Boris  eagerly,  and  becoming  ^^ 


• 


t 


/ 


t 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  847 

^     ^\  *    And  Boris  began  to  relate  how  the 

rVw  their  places  and  seeing  troops  in  front 

''or  Austrians,  and  then  suddenly  by 

over  from  these  same  troops,  recog- 

front  line,  and  unexpectedly  en- 

not  stopping  to  hear  Boris  to 

horse. 

^   supposed    that  Rostof 
'  Miajesty,  and  therefore 

standing  not  a  hun- 

•md  a  Cavalier-guard 

md  frowning  face, 

Austrian  officer  in  a 

.  ive,  but  my  errand  is  to  the  com- 

.^e  emperor,"  said  Rostof,  and  was  just 

.lider  way. 

uunt ! "  cried  Berg,  who,  no  less  excited  than 

*^   been,   came   running    out  from    the   other  side, 

_/J|?>tj  I  have  been  wounded  in  my  right  arm"  said  he, 

P^^iig  to  his  wrist,  which  was  bloody  and  wrapped  up  in  a 

™aKerchief,  "and  I  stayed  at  the  front.     Count,  I  had  to 

.rl^^y  ^^ord  in  my  left  hand.     In  our  family  all  the  von 

^  We  been  knighted." 

«;  !^  ^^^^  0^  to  say  something  more,  but  Rostof,  not  stop- 
P^g  to  listen  to  him,  was  already  far  away. 
_j  assing  by  the  Guards  and  across  a  vacant  space,  Rostof  in 
^  not  to  get  into  the  front  again,  as  he  had  been,  when  he 
^  caiight  by  the  charge  of  the  Cavalier-guards,  rode  along  the 
}  0*  the  reserves,  making  a  considerable  detour  of  the  place 
nere  the  most  violent  cannonade  and  musketry  firing  was 
fara.  Suddenly  he  heard  loud  volleys  of  musketry  before 
.  ^^  and  behind  our  troops,  in  a  place  where  he  would  never 
'^ave  suspected  the  presence  of  the  enemy. 
.  *  What  can  that  mean,"  wondered  Rostof.  "  Can  the  enemy 
J^^e  outflanked  us  ?  It  cannot  be,"  said  he  to  himself,  and  a 
"Wror  of  fear  for  himself  and  for  the  success  of  the  battle 
^denly  came  over  him.  "Whatever  it  is,  however,"  he 
^wght,  "  now  there's  no  avoiding  it.  I  must  find  the  com- 
^^der-in^hief  here,  and  if  all  is  lost,  then  it  is  my  place  to 

IP^^k  with  the  rest. 


846  WAB  AND  PEACE, 

were  in  comparison  with  these  tremendous  men  and  horses,  — 
if  he  had  not  had  the  presence  of  mind  to  shake  his  riding  whip 
in  the  eyes  of  the  Guardsman's  horse. 

The  charger,  black  as  a  coal,  heavy  and  high,  shied,  cropping 
back  his  ears,  but  the  pock-marked  rider  plungjed  his  huge 
spurs  into  his  side  with  all  his  might,  and  the  charger,  arching 
his  tail  and  stretching  out  his  neck,  rushed  onward  faster  than 
ever.  Rostof  was  hardly  out  of  the  way  of  the  Guardsmen, 
when  he  heard  their  huzzahs,  and  glancing  around  saw  that 
their  front  ranks  were  already  mingling  with  strange  horse- 
men with  red  epaulets,  apparently  the  French.  Farther  away 
it  was  impossible  to  see  anything,  because  immediately  after 
this  on  the  other  side,  the  cannon  began  to  belch  forth  smoke, 
and  everything  was  shrouded. 

At  the  moment  that  the  Guardsmen  dashed  past  him  and 
were  lost  to  view  in  the  smoke,  Rostof  was  undecided  in  his 
own  mind,  whether  he  should  gallop  after  them  or  go  where 
his  duty  called  him. 

This  was  that  brilliant  charge  of  the  "  Cavalier-guards," 
which  the  French  themselves  so  much  admired.  It  was  terri- 
ble for  Rostof  when  he  heard  afterward,  that  out  of  all  that 
throng  of  handsome  young  giants,  out  of  all  those  brilliant, 
rich  young  men,  officers  and  yunkers  mounted  on  splendid 
chargers  who  galloped  past  him,  only  eighteen  were  left  alive 
after  the  charge. 

"  Why  should  I  envy  them  ?  My  turn  will  come,  and  per- 
haps T  shall  see  the  sovereign  very  soon  now,"  thought  Rostof, 
and  he  galloped  on. 

When  he  came  up  to  the  infantry  of  the  Guards,  his  atten- 
tions was  called  to  the  fact  that  shot  and  shell  were  flying 
over  them  and  around  them,  not  so  much  because  he  heard 
the  sounds  of  the  missiles,  as  because  he  saw  dismay  on  the 
faces  of  the  soldiers  and  an  unnatural  martial  solemnity  on 
the  faces  of  the  officers. 

As  he  was  riding  behind  one  of  the  infantry  regiments  of 
the  Guard,  he  heard  a  voice  calling  him  by  name. 

"  Rostof ! " 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  he  replied,  not  seeing  that  it  was  Boris. 

"  What  do  you  think  of  this  ?  We  were  put  in  the  front 
line.  Oui'  regiment  has  been  in  a  charge,"  said  Boris,  smil- 
ing with  the  happy  smile  such  as  young  men  wear  when  they 
have  been  for  the  first  time  under  fire.     Rostof  drew  up. 

"  Have  you  indeed  ! "  said  he,  "  and  how  was  it  ?  " 

"Repulsed,"  said  Boris  eagerly,  and  becoming  talkative. 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  847 

''You  can  imagine."  And  Boris  began  to  relate  how  the 
Guards  as  they  stood  in  their  places  and  seeing  troops  in  front 
of  them,  mistook  them  for  Austrians,  and  then  suddenly  by 
the  shots  that  came  flying  over  from  these  same  troops,  recog- 
nized that  they  were  in  the  front  line,  and  unexpectedly  en- 
gaged in  the  conflict.  Kostof,  not  stopping  to  hear  Boris  to 
&e  end  of  his  story,  started  his  horse. 

"  Where  are  you  bound  ?  " 

"  To  his  majesty,  with  a  message." 

"There  he  is"  said  Boris,  who  supposed  that  Rostof 
wanted  his  highness  instead  of  his  majesty,  and  therefore 
pointed  him  to  the  grand  duke,  who  was  standing  not  a  hun- 
dred paces  away.  Dressed  in  a  helmet  and  a  Cavalier-guard 
hdet  or  jacket,  with  elevated  shoulders  and  frowning  face, 
he  was  shouting  something  to  a  pale  Austrian  officer  in  a 
white  uniform. 

"No !  that's  the  grand  duke,  but  my  errand  is  to  the  com- 
mander-in-chief or  to  the  emperor,"  said  Rostof,  and  was  just 
getting  his  horse  under  way. 

"  Count !  Count ! "  cried  Berg,  who,  no  less  excited  than 
Boris  had  been,  came  nmning  out  from  the  other  side, 
"Count,  I  have  been  wounded  in  my  right  arm"  said  he, 
pointing  to  his  wrist,  which  was  bloody  and  wrapped  up  in  a 
handkerchief,  "and  I  stayed  at  the  front.  Count,  I  had  to 
hold  my  sword  in  my  left  hand.  In  our  family  all  the  von 
Bergs  have  been  knighted." 

Berg  went  on  to  say  something  more,  but  Rostof,  not  stop- 
ping to  listen  to  him,  was  already  far  away. 

Passing  by  the  Guards  and  across  a  vacant  space,  Rostof  in 
order  not  to  get  into  the  front  again,  as  he  had  been,  when  he 
was  caught  by  the  charge  of  the  Cavalier-guards,  rode  along  the 
line  of  the  reserves,  making  a  considerable  detour  of  the  place 
where  the  most  violent  cannonade  and  musketry  firing  was 
heard.  Suddenly  he  heard  loud  volleys  of  musketry  before 
him  and  behind  our  troops,  in  a  place  where  he  would  never 
have  suspected  the  presence  of  the  enemy. 

"  What  can  that  mean,"  wondered  Rostof.  "  Can  the  enemy 
have  outflanked  us  ?  It  cannot  be,"  said  he  to  himself,  and  a 
horror  of  fear  for  himself  and  for  the  success  of  the  battle 
suddenly  came  over  him.  "Whatever  it  is,  however,"  he 
thought,  "  now  there's  no  avoiding  it.  I  must  find  the  com- 
mander-in-chief here,  and  if  all  is  lost,  then  it  is  my  place  to 
perish  with  the  rest. 

The  gloomy  presentiment  which  had  suddenly  come  over 


848  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

him  was  more  and  more  made  certainty  the  farther  he  lode 
into  the  fields  behind  the  village  of  Pratzen^  which  were  occu- 
pied by  throngs  of  demoralized  troops. 

"  What  does  this  mean  ?  What  can  this  mean  ?  At  whom 
are  they  firing  ?  Who  is  firing  ?  "  he  inquired,  as  he  over- 
took Eussian  and  Austrian  soldiers  running  in  confused 
throngs  across  his  path. 

"  The  devil  only  knows !  He  has  beaten  us  all.  All  is  lost," 
answered  the  throngs  of  the  fugitives  in  Eussian,  in  German, 
and  in  Bohemian,  and  they  could  tell  no  better  than  he  him- 
self coulxl  what  was  going  on  there.  • 

"  Hang  the  Germans ! "  cried  one. 

"  The  devil  take  'em,  the  traitors ! " 

'^  Zum  Henker  diese  RvLssen  —  to  the  devil  with  these  Rus- 
sians," stammered  some  German. 

A  number  of  wounded  were  wandering  down  the  road. 
Curses,  cries,  groans,  mingled  in  one  general  uproar.  The 
firing  ceased;  as  Eostof  afterwards  heard,  Eussian  and  Aus- 
trian soldiers  had  fired  at  each  other. 

*' Bozhe  mdi! — My  God  what  does  this  mean?"  thought 
Eostof.  "  And  here  where  any  minute  the  emperor  might  see 
them.  But  no !  these  were  apparently  only  a  few  cowards. 
This  is  only  transient,  this  is  nothing !  it  cannot  be,"  he  said 
to  himself,  "  I  must  get  by  them  as  soon  as  possible." 

The  idea  of  a  defeat  and  of  a  total  defeat  could  not  enter 
Eostof  s  head.  Although  he  could  see  the  French  cannon  and 
troops  on  the  Pratzer,  on  the  very  place  where  he  had  been 
commanded  to  find  the  commander-in-chief,  he  could  not  and 
would  not  believe  this. 


CHAPTEE  XVIIL 

Eostof  had  been  told  that  he  should  find  Kutuzof  and  the 
emperor  somewhere  in  the  vicinity  of  the  village  of  Pratzen. 
But  they  were  not  to  be  found  there,  nor  was  a  single  nachal- 
nik  in  sight,  but  everywhere  throngs  of  fleeing  troops  of  all 
nationalities. 

He  spurred  on  his  horse,  which  was  already  growing  fagged, 
so  as  to  pass  by  these  fugitives  as  quickly,  as  possible,  but  the 
farther  he  went,  the  more  demoralized  he  found  the  forces. 
Along  the  high  road  where  he  was  riding,  carriages  and  equi- 
pages of  all  sorts  were  crowded  together,  Eussian  and  Aus- 
trian soldiers  of  all  the  different  branches  of  the  service. 


WAR  Aifb  P&Acn.  349 

wounded  and  not  wounded.  All  this  mass  hummed  and  con- 
fusedly swarmed  under  the  dispiriting  sounds  of  the  shells 
fired  from  French  batteries  posted  on  the  heights  overlooking 
Pratzen. 

"Where  is  the  emperor?  Where  is  Kutuzof?"  asked 
Rostof  of  all  whom  he  could  bring  to  a  stop,  but  not  one 
could  vouchsafe  him  any  answer. 

At  last  seizing  a  soldier  by  the  collar,  he  obliged  him  to 
reply. 

"  Eh  !  brother !  They've  all  been  yonder  this  long  time  — 
all  cut  sticks  !  '^  said  thef^oldier  laughing  for  some  reason,  and 
breaking  away.  Eeleasing  this  soldier,  who  was  evidently 
drunk^  Bostof  managed  to  stop  the  denshchik  or  the  groom  of 
some  person  of  consequence,  and  began  to  ply  him  with  ques- 
tions. The  denshchik  told  Kostof  that  the  emperor  had  been 
driven  by  an  hour  before  at  full  speed  in  a  carriage  along  this 
same  road,  and  that  the  emperor  had  been  wounded. 

•*  It  cannot  be,"  said  Rostof,  "  It  must  have  been  some  one 
else." 

"I  myself  saw  him,"  said  the  denshchik,  with  a  self-satisfied 
langhy  ^'  I  ought  to  know  the  sovereign  by  sight ;  I  should  like 
to  know  how  many  times  I  have  seen  him  in  Petersburg !  He 
leaned  back  in  the  carriage  and  was  pale,  very  pale.  Heavens  ! 
what  a  rate  those  four  black  horses  thundered  by  us  here ;  I 
should  think  I  might  know  the  Tsar's  horses,  and  Ilya  Ivsr 
nuitch !  I  guess  Ilya,  the  coachman,  wouldn't  be  very  likely  to 
drive  by  with  any  one  less  than  the  Tsar !  " 

Aostof  gave  his  horse  the  spur  and  started  to  ride  farther. 
A  woiinded  officer  passing  by,  turned  to  him. 

"Who  was  it  you  wanted,"  asked  the  officer;  "the  com- 
mander-in-chief ?  He  was  killed  by  a  cannon  ball ;  hit  him  in 
the  chest,  right  at  the  head  of  our  regiment." 

"Not  killed !  only  wounded,"  said  another  officer. 

«  Who  ?  Kutuzof  ?  "  asked  Rostof. 

"No,  not  Kutuzof,  but  what  do  you  call  him  —  ah  well,  it's 
all  the  same.  Not  many  are  left  alive.  If  you  go  down  yon- 
der, yonder  to  that  village,  you'll  find  all  the  commanders  gath- 
ered," said  this  officer,  pointing  to  the  village  of  Gostieradeck, 
and  he  passed  on. 

Kostof  walked  his  horse,  not  knowing  now  where  to  go  or 
whom  to  seek.  The  sovereign  wounded!  the  battle  lost! 
It  was  impossible  to  believe  that,  even  now.  Rostof  rode 
away  in  the  direction  indicated  by  the  officer ;  in  the  distance 
could  be  seen  towers  and  a  church.     What  was  the  need  of 


S60  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

» 

him  to  hurry.     What  had  he  now  to  say  to  the  sovereign  or  to 
Kutuzof  ?  even  if  they  were  alive  and  not  wounded. 

"  That  road ;  take  that  road,  your  nobility,  else  they'll  shoot 
you  down,  yonder  ! "  cried  a  soldier  to  him.  "  They'll  shoot 
you  I " 

"  0  what  are  you  talking  about  ?  "  cried  another.  "That^s 
the  nearest  way  to  where  he  is  going." 

Bostof  considered  a  moment  and  then  rode  in  exactly  the 
direction  where  they  said  that  he  would  be  killed. 

"  Now  it's  all  the  same  to  me  j  if  the  sovereign  is  wounded, 
why  should  I  try  to  save  my  life  ?  "  he  asked  himself.  He 
rode  out  on  the  open  space  where  there  had  been  the  heaviest 
slaughter  of  the  men  escaping  from  Pratzen.  The  French  had 
not  yet  occupied  this  place,  and  the  Russians  —  that  is  those 
who  were  alive  or  only  slightly  wounded  had  long  before 
abandoned  it.  On  the  ground,  like  shocks  of  corn  on  a  fertile 
field,  lay  ten  men,  fifteen  men,  killed  or  wounded^  on  every 
rood  of  the  place. 

The  wounded  had  crawled  together,  two  or  three  at  a  time, 
and  their  cries  and  groans  could  be  heard  most  gruesomely 
though  it  seemed  to  Eostof  that  they  were  often  simulated. 
He  put  his  horse  at  a  trot,  so  as  not  to  see  all  these  suffering 
men  and  a  great  horror  came  over  him.  He  was  not  afraid 
for  his  own  life,  but  lest  he  should  lose  the  manliness  which 
he  felt  was  essential  to  him  ;  he  knew  that  he  could  not  en- 
dure the  spectacle  of  those  unfortunate  wretches. 

The  French  had  ceased  to  fire  on  this  field  strewn  with 
dead  and  wounded,  because  there  was  no  longer  any  sign  of 
life  on  it ;  but  when  they  caught  sight  of  the  adjutant  riding 
across,  they  turned  one  of  their  cannon  on  it,  and  sent  a  few 
balls  after  him.  The  sensation  caused  by  these  terrific  whis- 
tling sounds,  and  the  spectacle  of  the  dead  around  him, 
aroused  in  Kostof's  mind,  an  impression  of  horror  and  self- 
commiseration.  He  recalled  his  mother's  last  letter.  "  How 
would  she  feel "  he  asked  himself,  "  if  she  should  see  me  now, 
here  in  this  field,  with  those  cannon  pointed  at  me  ?  " 

At  the  village  of  Gostieradeck  the  Russian  troops  were  re- 
tiring from  the  field  of  battle  in  good  order,  though  the  regi- 
ments were  mixed  together.  This  was  out  of  range  of  the 
French  cannon-balls,  and  the  sounds  of  the  firing  seemed 
more  distant.  Here  all  clearly  saw  and  openly  confessed 
that  the  battle  was  lost.  No  one  to  whom  Rostof  applied  for 
information  could  tell  him  where  the  emperor  was,  or  where 
Kutuzof  was.     Some  declared  that  the  report  about  the  sover- 


War  and  pMAcK,  861 

eign  being  wounded  was  correct^  others  denied  it  and  ex- 
plained this  false  though  widespread  rumor  by  the  fact  that 
the  Ober-hofmarshal,  Count  Tolstoi,  who  had  gone  out  in  com- 
pany of  others  of  the  suite  to  see  the  battle,  had  dashed  away 
pale  and  frightened,  from  the  field  of  battle  in  the  emperor's 
carriage. 

One  officer  told  Kostof  that  in  the  rear  of  a  village  over 
toward  the  left,  he  had  seen  some  officials  of  high  rank,  and 
Rostof  started  in  that  direction,  not  indeed  with  the  expecta- 
tion of  finding  any  one^  but  merely  for  the  sake  of  clearing 
lus  conscience. 

After  riding  three  versts  and  passing  beyond  the  last  of  the 
Russian  troops,  Rostof  reached  an  orchard  protected  by  a 
ditch,  and  saw  two  riders  standing  near  the  ditch.  One  with 
a  white  plume  in  his  hat,  had  a  familiar  look ;  the  other 
rider,  he  whom  he  did  not  know,  was  mounted  on  a  handsome 
chestnut  charger  —  this  charger  somehow  seemed  familiar  to 
Rostof,  —  and  rode  up  to  the  ditch,  put  spurs  to  his  horse, 
and  giving  him  his  head,  easily  leaped  the  ditch  into  the 
orchard.  The  earth  merely  crumbled  away  a*  little  from  the 
embankment  under  the  horse's  hind  hoofs.  Turning  his  horse 
short,  he  leaped  back  over  the  ditch  again,  and  addressed 
himself  respectfully  to  the  rider  with  the  wliite  plume,  ap- 
parently urging  him  to  do  the  same  thing.  The  rider  whose 
figure  Rostof  seemed  to  recognize,  and  had  therefore  involun- 
t^ily  attracted  his  attention,  shook  his  head  and  made  a  ges- 
ture of  refusal  with  his  hand,  and  Rostof  immediately  by  this 
gesture,  knew  that  it  was  his  idolized,  lamented  sovereign. 

"But  it  cannot  be  that  he  is  left  alone  in  this  bare  field !  " 
thought  Rostof.  Just  then  Alexander  turned  his  head,  so 
that  he  had  a  good  view  of  those  beloved  features  so 
sharply  graven  on  his  memory.  The  sovereign  was  pale,  his 
cheeks  sunken,  and  his  eyes  cavernous,  but  there  was  all  the 
more  charm,  all  the  more  sweetness  in  his  features.  Rostof 
was  delighted  to  be  convinced  that  the  rumor  of  the  sove- 
reign's wound  was  false.  He  was  happy  to  have  seen  him. 
He  knew  that  he  might,  nay  that  he  ought  to,  go  straight 
up  to  him  and  deliver  the  message  that  had  been  entrusted 
to  him  by  J)olgorukof. 

But  just  as  a  young  man  in  love  trembles  and  loses  his 
presence  of  mind,  not  daring  to  say  what  he  has  been  dream- 
ing about  night  after  night,  and  timidly  looks  around,  in 
search  of  help  or  the  possibility  of  postponing  it,  when  the 
wished-for  moment  has  at  last  arrived  and  he  stands  alone 


362  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

with  her ;  so  also  with  Rostof^  now  that  he  had  attained  what 
he  had  yearned  for  more  than  all  else  in  the  world ;  he  did 
not  know  how  to  approach  his  sovereign,  and  devised  a  thou- 
sand excuses  for  finding  it  untimely,  improper,  and  impossible. 

"  What !  I  might  seem  to  be  taking  advantage  of  his  being 
alone  and  dejected.  An  unknown  face  at  this  moment  of  sor- 
row, might  seem  unpleasant  and  troublesome ;  besides  what 
could  I  say  to  him  now,  when  one  glance  from  him  makes  mj 
heart  swell  within  me  and  seem  to  leap  into  my  mouth." 

Not  one  of  those  innumerable  speeches  which  he  had  so 
carefully  prepared  in  case  he  should  meet  the  emperor,  now 
recurred  to  his  mind.  Those  speeches  were  for  the  most  part 
indicted  under  different  conditions  ;  they  were  to  be  spoken  at 
the  moment  of  victory  and  triumph ;  above  all  on  bis  death- 
bed, when  as  he  sank  under  the  wounds  that  he  had  received, 
his  sovereign  would  come  to  see  him,  and  thank  him  for  his 
heroic  conduct ;  thus  he  would  show  him  his  love  sealed  by 
his  death. 

''  Besidlf^  wjut  now  could  I  ask  the  emperor  in  regard  to 
his  commands  to  the  left  wing  when  now  already  it  is  four 
o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  and  the  battle  is  lost.  No,  really  1 
ought  not  to  trouble  him.  I  ought  not  to  break  in  upon  his 
reflections.  It  would  be  better  to  die  a  thousand  times,  than 
to  receive  an  angry  look  or  an  angry  word  from  him." 

Such  was  Rostof's  decision,  and  melancholy,  and  with  de- 
spair in  his  heail;,  he  rode  away,  constantly  glancing  back  at 
the  emperor,  still  remaining  in  the  same  undecided  attitude. 
While  Rostof  was  making  these  reflections  and  sadly  rode 
away  from  his  sovereign,  Captain  von  Toll  galloped  up  to  the 
same  place,  and  seeing  the  emperor,  went  straight  up  to  him, 
offered  him  his  services  and  helped  him  to  cross  the  ditch  on 
foot.  The  emperor,  wishing  to  rest,  and  feeling  ill,  sat  down 
under  an  apple  tree,  and  Toll  stood  near  him.  Rostof  looked 
from  afar,  and  saw  with  jealousy  and  regret  how  voii  Toll 
talked  long  and  eagerly  to  the  sovereign,  and  how  the  sove- 
reign, apparently  weeping,  covered  his  eyes  with  one  hand, 
and  with  the  other  pressed  von  Toll's. 

"  And  I  might  have  done  that  in  his  place,"  thought  Rostof, 
and  with  difficulty  restraining  the  tears  of  sympathy  for  his 
sovereign,  he  rode  away  in  utter  despair,  not  knowing  now 
where  he  should  go  or  for  what  reason. 

His  despair  was  all  the  more  bitter,  because  he  felt  that  his 
own  weakness  was  the  cause  of  his  misfortune. 

He  might  —  not  only  might,  but  he  ought  to  have  ridden 


WAR  AND  P^ACU.  363 

up  to  the  emperor.  And  this  was  his  only  chance  of  exhibit- 
ing to  the  sovereign  his  devotion.  And  he  did  not  take  advan- 
tage of  it.  "  Why  did  I  do  so  ?  "  he  asked  himself,  and  he 
turned  his  horse  about,  and  galloped  back  to  the  same  place 
where  the  emperor  had  been  sitting,  but  there  was  no  one 
any  longer  on  the  other  side  of  the  ditch.  A  train  of  bag- 
gage wagons  and  carriages  was  winding  along. 

From  one  of  the  wagoners,  Bostof  learned  that  Kutuzof's 
staff  were  not  very  far  away,  at  the  village  where  the  wagons 
were  bound.     Bostof  followed  them. 

The  foremost  in  the  train,  Kutuzof's  groom,  leading  a  horse 
with  his  trappings.  The  wagons  followed  behind  the  groom, 
and  behind  the  wagon  walked  an  old  jnan,  a  household  serf 
with  bandy  legs,  wearing  a  cap  and  a  half  shuba. 

«T!t !  ah !  Tit ! "  cried  the  groom, 

'*  What  is  it,"  asked  the  old  man  heedlessly. 

«  Tit !  'ftt !  grind  the  wheat ! " 

"  E !  dnrak  !  tfu  !  said  the  old  man,  angrily  spitting.  Some 
time  passed  in  silence,  as  they  moved  onward,,  and  then  the 
same  joking  rhyme  was  repeated. 

By  five  o'clock  in  the  evening,  the  battle  was  lost  at  every 
point.  More  than  a  hundred  cannon  had  already  fallen  into 
the  hands  of  the  French.  Prsczebiszewsky  and  his  battalion 
had  laid  down  their  arms.  The  other  columns,  having  lost 
more  than  half  their  efficient,  were  retreating  in  disorderly 
demoralized  throngs. 

The  relics  of  Langeron  and  Dokhturofs  forces,  all  in  con- 
fosion,  were  crowded  together  around  the  ponds,  on  the  dykes 
and  banks  of  the  village  of  Augest. 

By  six  o'clock  the  only  cannonading  that  was  any  longer 
heard,  was  directed  at  the  dyke  of  Augest  by  some  of  the 
Fiench,  who  had  established  a  large  battery  on  the  slopes  of 
the  Pratzer,  and  were  trying  to  cut  down  our  men  as  they 
retreated.  At  the  rear,  Dokhturof  and  some  others,  having 
collected  their  battalions,  made  a  stand  against  the  French, 
who  were  pursuing  our  troops. 

It  had  begun  to  be  entirely  dark.  On  the  narrow  dyke  of 
Augest,  where  so  many  years  the  little  old  miller  had  peacefully 
sat  with  his  hook  and  line,  while  his  grandson  with  shirt- 
sleeves rolled  up,  played  in  the  water-can  with  the  palpitating 
silver  fish ;  on  that  dyke,  over  which  the  Moravians,  in  shaggy 
caps  and  blue  blouses,  had  driven  their  two-horse  teams  loaded 
down  with  spring  wheat,  and  returned  dusted  with  flour  and 

VOL,  1.  —28. 


/^ 


S64  ^AR  ANb  PEACe. 

with  whitened  teams ;  along  this  same  dyke,  this  narrow  dyke, 
among  vans  and  field-pieces,  under  the  feet  of  horses,  and  be- 
tween the  wheels,  crowded  a  throng  of  men,  their  faces  dis- 
torted with  fear  of  death,  pushing  each  other,  expiring,  tramp- 
ling on  the  dying  and  dead,  and  crushing  each  other,  only  to 
be  themselves  killed  a  few  steps  farther  on. 

Every  ten  seconds  a  cannon  ball,  compressing  the  air,  flev 
by,  or  a  shell  came  bursting  amid  this  dense  throng,  deahog 
death,  and  spattering  with  blood  those  who  stood  near  by. 
Dolokhof,  wounded,  in  the  arm,  on  foot,  with  ten  men  of  bis 
company  —  he  was  now  an  officer  again  —  and  his  regimental 
commander,  on  horseback,  constituted  the  sole  survivors  of  the 
whole  regiment.  Carried  along  in  the  throng,  they  were 
crowded  together  at  the  very  entrance  of  the  dyke,  and,  pressed 
on  all  sides,  were  obliged  to  halt,  because  a  horse  attached  to 
a  field-piece  had  fallen,  and  the  throng  were  trying  to  drag  it 
along. 

One  cannon  ball  struck  some  one  behind  them,  another  strack 
just  in  front,  and  spattered  Dolokhof  with  blood.  The  crowd 
moved  on  iir  desperation,  squeezing  together,  and  tlien  baited 
again. 

'^If  we  could  only  make  those  hundred  paces,  and  safety  is 
sure ;  if  we  stay  here  two  minutes  longer  our  destruction  is 
certain !  "  said  each  one  to  himself. 

Dolokhof,  standing  in  the  midst  of  the  throng,  forced  bis 
way  through  to  the  edge  of  the  dyke,  knocking  down  two  sol- 
diers, and  sprang  out  on  the  glare  ice  that  covered  the  pond. 

"  Turn  out  this  way ! ''  he  cried,  sliding  along  on  the  ice, 
which  bent  under  his  weight.  "  Turn  out,"  he  cried  to  tbe 
gunner,  "  it  will  hold !  it  will  hold !  " 

The  ice  held  him,  but  it  yielded  and  cracked,  and  it  was  evi- 
dent that  it  would  immediately  give  way,  if  not  under  bis 
weight  alone,  certainly  under  that  of  the  field-piece,  or  tbe 
throng  of  men.  They  looked  at  him,  and  crowded  along  tbe 
shore,  not  venturing  to  step  upon  the  ice.  The  commander  of 
the  regiment,  sitting  on  horseback  at  the  entrance,  was  just 
raising  his  hand  and  opening  his  mouth  to  speak  to  Dolokbof, 
when  suddenly  a  cannon  ball  flew  so  close  over  the  men  tbat 
they  all  ducked  their  heads.  There  was  a  dull  thud  as  thoogb 
something  soft  were  struck,  and  the  general  fell  in  a  pool  of 
blood.  No  one  looked  at  the  general  or  thought  of  picking 
him  up. 

"  Come  on  the  ice ! " —  "  Cross  the  ice ! "  —  "  Come  on  1" — 
'^  Move  on  !  Don't  you  hear  ?  Come ! "  was  heard  suddenly 


WAk  AND  PEACE.  866 

from  inQumeTable  voices,  after  the  cannon  ball  had  strack  the 
general ;  though  the  men  knew  not  what  or  whj  they  were 
crying. 

One  of  the  last  field-pieces,  that  was  just  entering  on  the  dyke, 
ventured  on  the  ice.  A  throng  of  soldiers  hastened  down  from 
the  ground  upon  the  frozen  pond.  One  of  the  rearmost  sol- 
diers broke  through,  one  leg  slumping  down  into  the  water. 
He  tried  to  save  himself  and  sank  up  to  his  belt.  The  men 
who  stood  nearest,  held  back ;  the  driver  of  the  field-piece 
drew  in  his  horses,  but  still  behind  them  were  heard  the 
shouts,  — 

"Take  to  the  ice!"  —  "What  are  you  stopping  for?"  — 
"  T^e  to  the  ice ! "  —  "  Take  to  the  ice !  "  and  cries  of  horror 
were  heard  among  the  throng.  The  soldiers  surrounding  the 
gun  gesticulated  over  their  horses,  and  beat  them  to  make  them 
turn  and  go  on.  The  horses  struck  out  from  the  shore.  The 
ice,  which  might  have  held  the  foot-soldiers,  gave  way  in  one 
immense  sheet,  and  forty  men  who  were  on  it  threw  themselves 
some  forward  and  some  back,  trampling  on  each  other. 

All  the  time  the  cannon  balls  kept  regularly  whistling  by  and 
falling  on  the  ice,  into  the  water,  and,  more  frequently  than 
all,  into  the  mass  of  men  that  covered  the  dyke,  the  ponds, 
and  the  banks. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

On  the  Pratzer  hill,  in  the  same  spot  where  he  had  fallen 
with  the  flagstafiE  in  his  hand,  lay  Prince  Andrei  Bolkonsky, 
his  life-blood  oozing  away,  and  unconsciously  groaning,  with 
light,  pitiful  groans,  like  an  ailing  child. 

By  evening,  he  ceased  to  groan,  and  lay  absolutely  still.  He 
did  not  know  how  long  his  unconsciousness  continued.  Sud- 
denly, he  felt  that  he  was  alive  and  suffering  from  a  burning 
and  tormenting  pain  in  his  head. 

"  Where  is  that  lofty  heaven  which  I  had  never  seen  before, 
and  which  I  saw  to-day  ?  "  That  was  his  first  thought.  "  And 
I  never  knew  such  pain  as  this,  either,"  he  said  to  himself. 
"Yes,  I  have  never  known  anything,  anything  at  all,  till 
now.    But  where  am  I  ?  " 

He  tried  to  listen,  and  heard  the  trampling  hoofs  of  several 
horses  approaching,  and  the  sounds  of  voices,  talking  French. 
He  opened  his  eyes.  Over  him  still  stretched  the  same  lofty 
heavens,  with  clouds  sailing  over  it  iu  still  loftier  heights,  and 


S66  ^Atl  AND  P^ACB. 

beyond  them  he  could  see  the  depths  of  endless  blue.  He  did 
not  torn  his  head  or  look  at  those  who,  to  judge  from  tht 
hoof  beats  of  the  horses  and  the  sounds  of  the  voices,  rode  up 
to  him  and  paused. 

These  horsemen  were  Napoleon,  accompanied  by  two  aideflu 
Bonaparte,  who  had  been  riding  over  the  field  of  battle,  hai 
given  orders  to  strengthen  the  battery  that  was  cannonadi&fl 
the  dyke  of  Augest,  and  was  now  looking  after  the  killed  aiil 
wounded  left  on  the  battlefield. 

''  De  beaux  hommes  I  —  handsome  men  ! "  said  Napoleo% 
gazing  at  a  Russian  grenadier,  who  lay  on  his  belly  with  his 
face  half  buried  in  the  soil,  and  his  neck  tumii^  black, 
one  arm  flung  out  and  stiffened  in  death. 

<<  The  ammunition  for  the  field-guns  is  exhausted,  sire !  " 

''  Have  that  of  the  reserves  brought,"  *  said  Napoleon,  anl 
then  a  step  or  two  nearer,  he  paused  over  Prince  Andrei,  w. 
lay  on  his  back  with  the  flagstaff  clutched  in  his  hands  ( 
flag  had  been  carried  off  by  the  French  as  a  trophy). 

'<  Voiluj  une  belle  mort"  said  Napoleon,  gazing  at  Bolkonsi 
Prince  Andrei  realized  Uiat  this  was  said  of  him,  and  that 
was  spoken  by  Napoleon.  He  heard  them  address  the  s 
as  '^  sire."  But  he  heard  these  words  as  though  they  had 
the  buzzing  of  a  fly.  He  was  not  only  not  interested  in  the 
but  they  made  no  impression  upon  him,  and  he  immediatel; 
forgot  them.  His  head  throbbed  as  with  fire :  he  felt  that  h 
life-blood  was  ebbing,  and  he  still  saw  far  above  him  the 
tant,  eternal  heavens.  He  knew  that  this  was  Napoleon,  hi 
hero ;  but  at  this  moment.  Napoleon  seemed  to  him  merely 
small,  insignificant  man  in  comparison  with  that  lofty,  infinity 
heaven,  with  the  clouds  flying  over  it.  It  was  a  matter 
utter  indifference  to  him  who  stood  looking  down  upon  him^ 
or  what  was  said  about  him  at  that  moment.  He  was  merelyi 
conscious  of  a  feeling  of  joy  that  people  had  come  to  him, 
of  a  desire  for  these  people  to  give  him  assistance  and  bri 
him  back  to  life  which  seemed  to  him  so  beautiful :  because 
understood  it  so  differently  now.  He  collected  all  his  strengdk' 
to  move  and  make  some  sound.  He  managed  to  move  his  I 
slightly  and  uttered  a  weak,  feeble,  sickly  moan  that  sti 
pity  even  in  himself. 

*^  Ah !  he  is  alive  I "  said  Napoleon.  *'  Take  up  this  young 
man  —  ce  jeune  homme  —  and  take  him  to  the  temponuy  hos- 
pital."   Having  given  this  order.  Napoleon  rode  on  to  meet' 

*  "  Le$  munitions  despiicea  de  position  sont  ^puis^^  siref*    " 
advancer  ceUes  de  la  reserves," 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  367 

Matshal  Lazmes,  who,  remoying  his  hat  and  smiling,  rode  up 
and  oongratolated  him  on  the  victory. 

Prince  Andrei  recollected  nothing  farther;  he  lost  con- 
sciousness of  the  terrible  pain  caused  by  those  who  placed  him 
oa  the  stretcher,  and  by  the  jolting  as  he  was  carried  along, 
ttd  the  probing  of  the  wound.  He  recovered  it  again  only  at 
the  very  end  of  the  day,  as  he  was  carried  to  the  hospital 
together  with  other  Russians  wounded,  and  taken  prisoner. 
At  this  time^  he  felt  a  little  fresher  and  was  able  to  glance 
anmnd  and  even  to  speak. 

The  first  words  which  he  heard  after  he  came  to  were  spoken 
Of  a  French  officer  in  charge  of  the  convoy,  who  said,  — 

^  We  must  stop  here  ;  the  emperor  is  coming  by  immediately ; 
it  will  give  him  pleasure  to  see  these  prisoners." 

''There  are  so  many  prisoners  to-day;  almost  the  whole 
loflsian  army,  I  should  think  it  would  have  become  an  old 
iloiy,"  said  another  officer. 

"Well,  at  all  events,  this  man  here,  they  say,  was  the  com- 
Jiander  of  all  the  Emperor  Alexander's  Guards,"  said  the  first 
tweaker,  indicating  a  wounded  Russian  officer  in  a  white  Cava- 
WGuards  uniform.  Bolkonsky  recognized  Prince  Repnin 
irhom  he  had  met  in  Petersburg  society.  Next  him  was  a 
|OQth  of  nineteen,  an  officer  of  the  cavalier  guard  also 
voonded. 

Bonaparte  coming  up  at  a  gallop  reined  in  his  horse. 

**  Who  is  the  chief  officer  here  ?  "  he  asked,  looking  at  the 
Toonded. 

They  pointed  to  Colonel  Prince  Repnin. 

"Were  you  the  commander  of  the  Emperor  Alexander's 
Hotse-guard  regiment  ?  "  asked  Napoleon. 

"I  commanded  a  squadron,"  replied  Repnin. 

"Your  regiment  did  its  duty  with  honor,"  remarked  Napo- 
Iboq. 

"Praise  from  a  great  commander  is  the  highest  reward  that 
A  soldier  can  have,"  said  Repnin. 

"It  is  with  pleasure  that  I  give  it  to  you,"  replied  Napoleon. 
"Who  is  this  young  man  next  you  ?  " 

Prince  Repnin  named  Lieutenant  Sukhtelen.  . 

Napoleon  glanced  at  him  and  said  with  a  smile  :  ^^11  est  venu 
iUnjeune  sef rotter  a  nous  —  very  young  to  oppose  us." 

"Youth  does  not  prevent  one  from  being  brave,"  replied 
Snkhtelen  in  a  broken  voice. 

"  A  beautiful  answer,"  said  Napoleon.  "  Young  man,  you  will 
get  on  in  the  world." 


Y 


368  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

Prince  Andrei  who  had  been  placed  also  in  the  front  rank, 
under  the  eyes  of  the  emperor,  so  as  to  swell  the  number  of 
those  who  had  been  taken  prisoner,  naturally  attracted  his 
attention.  Napoleon  evidently  remembered  having  seen  him 
on  the  iield,  and  turning  to  him  he  used  exactly  the  same 
expression,  ^^  young  man/'  as  when  Bolkonsky  had  the  first  \ 
time  come  under  his  notice.  | 

^^  Et  vouSyjexme  homnte. — Well,  and  you,  young  man  ?"  said  | 
he  addressing  him.     "  How  do  you  feel,  man  brave  ?  "  ! 

Although  fiWQ  minutes  before  this,  Prince  Andrei  had  been  j 
able  to  say  a  few  words  to  the  soldiers  who  wert*  bearing  him,  J 
now  he  fixed  his  eyes  directly  on  Napoleon,  but  had  nothing  \ 
to  say.  To  him  at  this  moment  all  the  interests  occupying  j 
Napoleon  seemed  so  petty,  his  former  hero  himself,  with  hu  j 
small  vanity  and  delight  in  the  victory,  seemed  so  sordid  in 
comparison  with  that  high,  true,  and  just  heaven  which  he  had 
seen  and  learned  to  understand ;  and  that  was  why  he  could  ■ 
not  answer  him. 

Yes,  and  everything  seemed  to  him  so  profitless  and  insigm»' 
ficant  in  comparison  with  that  stern  and  majestic  train  of  i 
thought  induced  in  his  mind  by  his  lapsing  strength,  as  his  life* 
blood  ebbed  away,  by  his  suffering  and  the  near  expectation  of 
death.  As  Prince  Andrei  looked  into  Napoleon's  eyes,  he 
thought  of  the  insignificance  of  majesty,  of  the  insignificance' 
of  life,  the  meaning  of  which  no  one  could  understand,  and  of 
the  still  greater  insignificance  of  death,  the  thought  of  which 
no  one  could  among  men  understand  or  explain. 

The  emperor,  without  waiting  for  any  answer,  turned  away, 
and  as  he  started  to  ride  on,  said  to  one  of  the  officers,  — 

"  Have  these  gentlemen  looked  after  and  conveyed  to  my 
bivouac ;  have  Doctor  Larrey  himself  look  after  their  woundi 
Au  revoir,  Prince  Repnin,"  and  he  touched  the  spurs  to  his 
horse  and  galloped  away. 

His  face  was  bright  with  self-satisfaction  and  happiness. 

The  soldiers  carrying  Prince  Andrei  had  taken  from  him  the 
golden  medallion  which  the  Princess  Mariya  had  hung  around 
her  brother's  neck,  but  when  they  saw  the  flattering  way  in 
which  the  emperor  treated  the  prisoners,  they  hastened  to 
return  the  medallion. 

Prince  Andrei  did  not  see  how  or  by  whom  the  medallion 
was  replaced,  but  he  suddenly  discovered  on  his  chest,  outside 
of  his  uniform,  the  little  image  attached  to  its  slender  golden 
chain. 

*<  It  would  be  good,"  thought  Prince  Andrei,  letting  his  eyee 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  369 

lest  on  the  medallion  which  his  sister  had  hung  aroond  his 
neck  with  so  much  feeling  and  reverence,  ''  it  would  be  good 
if  everything  were  as  clear  and  simple  as  it  seems  to  the  Prin-. 
MSB  Mariya.  How  good  it  would  be  to  know  where  to  find 
help  in  this  life,  and  what  to  expect  after  it, — beyond  the 
grave !  How  happy  and  composed  I  should  be,  if  I  could  say 
oow, '  Lord  have  mercy  on  me  ! '  But  to  whom  can  I  say  that ! 
Is  it  force  —  impalpable,  incomprehensible,  which  I  cannot 
tnm  to,  or  even  express  in  words,  is  it  the  great  All  or  noth- 
ingness," said  he  to  himself,  ''  or  is  it  God  which  is  sewed  in 
this  amulet  which  my  sister  gave  me  ?  Nothing,  nothing  is 
certain,  except  the  insignificance  of  all  within  my  comprehen- 
Bion  and  the  majesty  of  that  which  is  incomprehensible  but 
tD-important." 

The  stretcher  started  off.  At  every  jolt  he  again  felt  the 
iBsofferable  pain,  his  fever  grew  more  violent,  and  he  began  to 
be  delirious.  The  dreams  about  his  father,  his  wife,  his  sister, 
and  his  unborn  son,  and  the  feeling  of  tenderness  which  he 
had  experienced  on  the  night  before  the  battle,  the  figure  of 
tte  little  insignificant  Napoleon,  and  above  all  the  lofty  sky, 
fenned  the  principal  content  of  his  feverish  imaginations. 

He  seemed  to  be  living  a  quiet  life  amid  calm,  domestic 
happiness  at  Luisiya  Gorui.  He  was  beginning  to  take  delight 
in  this  blissful  existence,  when  suddenly  the  little  Napoleon 
jfpeared  with  his  unsympathetic,  shallow-minded  face,  express- 
ing happiness  at  the  unhappiness  of  others,  and  once  more 
donbts  began  to  arisQ  and  torment  him,  and  only  the  skies 
Seemed  to  promise  healing  balm. 

Toward  morning  all  his  imaginations  were  utterly  confused 
and  blurred  in  the  chaos  and  fogs  of  unconsciousness  and  for- 
getfolness  which  much  more  likely,  according  to  the  opinion 
of  Doctor  Larrey,  Napoleon's  physician,  would  end  with  death 
than  recovery : 

"  (Pegt  un  sujet  nerveux  et  bileux,  il  rCen  rechappera  pas  —  he 
won't  recover." 

Prince  Andrei,  together  with  other  prisoners  hopelessly 
wounded,  was  turned  over  to  the  care  of  the  natives  of  the 
region. 


J 


WAE  AND  PEACE' 


BT 


COUNT  LYOF  N.   TOLSTOJf 


FROM  THE  RUSSIAN  BY 

NATHAN    HASKELL  DOLE 


A  UTHORIZED   TRANSLA  TION 


\^   FOUR  VOLUMES 


VOL.    II 


NEW  YORK 
THOMAS   Y.   CROWELL   &    CO. 

13  AsTOR  Place 


Copyright,  Ife89,  by 
T.  Y.  Crowell  &  Co. 


Electrotype D  by 
C.  J.  Peters  &  Son,  Boston. 


WAR  AND   PEACE. 


VOL.  IL  — PART  FIRST. 
CHAPTER  I. 

At  the  beginning  of  the  year  1806,  Nikolai  Rostof  went 
borne  on  furlough.  Denisof  was  also  going  to  his  home  in 
Voronezh,  and  Kostof  persuaded  him  to  accompany  him  to 
Moscow  and  make  him  a  visit.  At  the  next  to  the  last  post 
station,  Denisof  fell  in  with  a  comrade,  and  drank  three  bot- 
tles of  wine  with  him ;  and  on  the  way  to  Moscow,  in  spite  of 
the  cradle-holes  on  the  road,  did  not  once  wake  up,  but  lay 
stretched  out  in  the  bottom  of  the  post-sledge,  next  Kostof, 
who,  in  proportion  as  they  approached  the  city,  grew  more 
'  and  more  impatient. 

"  Faster !  Faster !  oh,  these  intolerable  streets,  shops,  ka- 
latehif*  lanterns,  cab^irivers  ! "  thought  Kostof,  when,  having 
left  their  names  at  the  city  gates,  as  visitors  on  furlough,  they 
had  fairly  entered  the  city. 

"  Denisof !  We  are  here  I  —  Asleep ! "  he  exclaimed,  leaning 
forward  with  his  whole  body,  as  though  by  this  motion  he  could 
hope  to  increase  the  speed  of  the  sledge.  Denisof  made  no 
answer.  • 

* 

"There  is  the  cross  street,  where  Zakhar,  the  izvoshc/iikj 
used  to  stand ;  and  there  is  Zakhar  himself,  and  the  same 
horse !  And  here's  the  shop  where  we  used  to  buy  ginger- 
hread !    Hurry,  there  ! " 

"  Which  house  ?  "  asked  the  driver. 

"  That  one  yonder,  on  the  corner,  that  big  one,  can't  you  see  ? 
Thafs  our  house !  "  said  Rostof.  "  There,  that's  our  house !  — 
Denisof !  Denisof !    We  shall  be  there  in  a  moment ! " 

Denisof  lifted  his  head,  coughed,  and  made  no  answer. 

"Dmitri,"  said  Rostof,  calling  to  his  valet  on  the  coachmen's 
seat,  "There's  a  light  in  our  house,  isn't  there  ?  " 

.  *  Kalateh :  ft  sort  of  whenten  breadi  made  of  thin  dough,  peculiar  to  Bu»- 
VOL.2.  — 1.  1 


2  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

•    "Certainly  there  is;    there's  a  light  in  your  papenka's 
room." 

"  They  can't  have  gone  to  bed  yet  ?  Hey  ?  What  do  you 
think  ?  See  here  I  Don't  you  forget  it,  I  want  my  new  Hun- 
garian coat  taken  out/'  he  added,  stroking  his  young  mus- 
tache. "  Now  then,  a  little  farther,"  he  cried  to  the  postillion. 
"  Here,  wake  up,  Vasha,"  turning  to  Denisof ,  who  had  again 
let  his  head  fall  back.  "  Come  now,  get  along,  three  silver 
rubles  for  vodka,  get  on ! "  shouted  Kostof,  when  the  sledge 
was  within  three  doors  of  his  own  entrance.  It  seemed  to  him 
that  the  horses  did  not  move.  At  last  the  sledge  drew  up  at 
the  entrance  at  the  right.  Over  his. head,  Rostof  saw  the 
well-known  cornice,  with  the  peeling  stucco,  the  front  door 
steps,  the  curbstone.  He  leaped  out  before  the  sledge  had 
stopped,  and  rushed  into  the  entry.  The  house  also  stood  as 
cold  and  motionless  as  though  it  had  no  concern  with  the  cue 
who  was  entering  its  portals.     There  was  no  one  in  the  entry. 

"  My  God  !  has  anything  happened  ?  "  thought  Rostof  with 
a  sinking  at  the  heart,  standing  still  for  a  minute,  and  then 
starting  to  run  along  the  entry  and  up  the  well-known  crooked 
stairs.  There  was  still  the  same  old  door  handle,  the  untidi- 
ness of  which  always  annoyed  the  countess,  as  loose  and  as 
much  askew  as  ever.  In  the  anteroom  burned  a  single  tallow 
candle. 

The  old  Mikhalla  was  asleep  on  the  chest.  Prokofi,  the 
hall  boy,  who  was  so  strong  that  he  could  lift  a  coach  by  the 
back,  was  sitting  making  shoes  out  of  selvage.  As  the  door 
opened  he  looked  up,  and  his  sleepy,  indifferent  expression 
of  countenance  suddenly  changed  to  one  of  awe  and  eve 
fright. 

"  Heavens  and  earth !    The  young  count ! "  hfe  cried,  as  sooif 
as  he  recognized  his  young  master.     "  How  does  it  happen,  mj 
dear  boy  ?  "  *     And  Prokofi,  trembling  with  emotion,  rush 
through  the  door  into  the  drawing-room,  evidently  with  th 
intention  of  announcing  the  good  news;  but  then,  on  secon 
thought,  he  came  back  and  fell  on  his  young  barin's  neck. 

"  AH  well  ?  "  asked  Rostof,  drawing  away  his  arm. 

"  Yes  !  glory  to  God,  glory  to  God !  Only  just  done  dinner  I 
Let  us  have  a  look  at  you,  your  illustriousness  !  '* 

"  Are  they  all  perfectly  happy  ?  " 

"  Yes,  slava  Boku  !  slava  Bohu  !  " 

Rostof  had  entirely  forgotten  about  Denisof ;  not  wishin 
any  one  to  announce  his  arrival,  he  pulled  off  his  far  shubaij 

•  QolubcKik. 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  3 

and  ran  on  his  tiptoes  into  the  great,  dark,  drawing-room. 
Evetything  was  the  same ;  the  same  card-tables,  the  chandelier 
still  in  its  covering.  But  some  of  the  family  must  have  seen 
the  young  barin,  and  hardly  had  he  entered  the  drawing-room, 
before  there  came  with  a  rush  like  a  tornado,  a  small  person 
who  threw  a  pair  of  arms  around  his  neck  and  overwhelmed 
him  with  kisses.  Then  a  second,  and  still  a  third  came  leap- 
ing out  of  a  second  and  third  side  door ;  more  embraces,  more 
kisses,  more  shouts,  tears  of  joy  1  He  could  not  tell  which 
vas  papa,  or  which  was  Natasha,  or  which  was  Petya!  All 
were  shouting,  talking,  and  kissing  him  at  one  and  the  same 
time.  Suddenly,  he  discovered  that  his  mother  was  not  among 
them. 

"And  here  I  knew  nothing  about  it,  Nikolushka,  my  darl- 
ing!" 

"  Here  he  is  —  ours  again  —  my  darling,  Kolya.  How  you 
have  changed !    There  are  no  lights  !    Bring  tea/ " 

"  Now  kiss  me ! " 

"  Dushenka,  dear  heart,  and  me  too !  " 

Sonya,  Natasha^  Petya,  Anna  Mikhailovna,  Yiera,  the  old 
eonnt,  were  all  embracing  him :  and  the  servants  and  the 
maids,  crowding  into  the  room,  were  exclaiming  and  ohing 
and  ahing. 

Petya^  clinging  to  his  legs,  kept  crying,  "jne  too ! '' 

Natasha,  after  having  thrown  her  arms  around  him  and- 
kissed  him  repeatedly  all  over  his  face,  ran  behind  him,  and 
seizing  him  by  the  tail  of  his  coat,  was  jumping  up  and  down 
like  a  goat,  in  the  same  spot,  and  giving  utterance  to  sharp 
little  squeals. 

On  all  sides  of  him  were  eyes  gleaming  with  tears  of  joy 
and  love ;  on  all  sides  were  lips  ready  to  be  kissed.  Sonya, 
ted  as  kurtiatchy*  also  held  him  by  the.  hand,  and  all  radiant 
with  affection,  gazed  into  his  eyes  which  she  had  been  so  long- 
ing to  see.  Sonya  was  now  just  past  sixteen,  and  was  very 
pretty,  especially  at  this  moment  of  joyous,  triumphant  ex- 
citement. She  looked  at  him,  without  dropping  her  eyes,  smil- 
ing, and  almost  holding  her  breath.  He  looked  at  her  grate- 
fully, but  still  he  was  all  the  time  waiting  and  looking  for 
some  one  else.  The  old  countess  had  not  yet  made  her  appear- 
ance. 

And  now  steps  were  heard  in  the  entry — steps  so  quick  that 
they  could  be  no  one  else  but  his  mother's. 

But  it  was  his  mother  in  a  dress  which  he  had  never  seen 

*  A  kind  of  fastian. 


4  WAR  AND  PEACE, 

before,  one  that  had  been  finished  since  he  was  gone.  All 
made  way  for  him,  and  he  ran  to  her.  When  they  met,  she 
fell  on  his  heart,  sobbing.  She  could  not  lift  her  face,  and 
only  pressed  it  against  the  cold  silver  braid  of  his  Hungarian 
coat.  Denisof,  coming  into  the  room  unobserved  by  any  one, 
stood  there  also,  and  as  he  looked  at  them,  he  wiped  his  eyes. 

"  Vasili  Denisof,  the  f wiend  of  your  son,"  said  he  introduc- 
ing himself  to  the  count,  who  looked  at  him  with  a  question- 
ing expression. 

"  I  know,  I  know,"  said  the  count,  embracing  Denisof  and 
kissing  him.  "  Nikolushka  wrote.  Natasha,  Viera,  here  is 
Denisof." 

The  same  happy,  enthusiastic  faces  were  turned  upon 
Denisofs  hirsute  figure,  and  crowded  around  him. 

"  My  dear  *  Denisof,"  screamed  Natasha ;  and  forgetting  her- 
self in  her  excitement  and  running  to  him,  she  threw  her  arms 
around  him  and  kissed  him.  All  were  abashed  at  Natasha's 
action.  Denisof  also  reddened,  but  smiled,  and  taking  Nata- 
sha's hand,  kissed  it. 

Denisof  was  conducted  to  the  room  that  had  been  prepared 
for  him,  but  the  Rostofs  all  collected  in  the  divan-room 
around  Nikolushka. 

The  old  countess  not  letting  go  his  hand,  which  she  kept 
kissing  every  minute,  sat  next  him.  The  others  standing 
around  them  watched  his  every  motion,  word,  glance,  and 
could  not  take  from  him  their  enthusiastically  loving  eyes. 

The  brother  and  sisters  quarrelled  and  disputed  with  each 
other  for  places  next  him,  and  vied  with  each  other  in  bring- 
ing him  his  tea,  his  handkerchief,  his  pipe. 

Rostof  was  very  happy  in  the  love  which  they  showed  him, 
but  the  first  moment  of  the  meeting  had  been  so  beatific  that 
his  present  happiness  «eemed  a  little  tame,  and  he  kept  desir- 
ing and  expecting  something  more  and  more,  and  yet  more. 

The  next  morning  the  travellers  slept  straight  on  till  ten 
o'clock. 

In  the  adjoining  room  there  was  a  confusion  of  sabres, 
valises,  sabretasches,  opened  trunks,  muddy  boots.  Two  pain 
of  boots  cleaned  and  with  brightened  spurs  had  just  been 
brought  up  and  set  along  the  wall.  Servants  were  carrying 
wash-hand  basins,  hot  water  for  shaving,  and  well-brushed 
clothes. 

There  was  an  odor  of  tobacco  and  of  men, 

*  Chlubchik. 


WAR   AND  PEACE.  9 

Denisof,  to  Bostors  amazement,  made  his  appearance  in  the 
drawing-room  in  a  new  uniform,  pomaded  and  scented,  with  as 
much  ceremony  as  though  he  were  going  out  to  battle,  and 
showed  himself  so  polite  to  the  ladies  and  gentlemen  present, 
that  Bostof  could  luurdlj  believe  bis  eyes. 


CHAPTER  11. 

Nikolai  Rostop,  on  his  return  to  Moscow  from  the  army, 
was  welcomed  by  the  home  circle  as  the  best  of  sons,  as  a  hero, 
and  their  darling  Nikolushka ;  by  his  relatives,  as  a  fine,  attract- 
ive, and  distinguished  young  man ;  by  his  acquaintances,  as  a 
handsome  lieutenant  of  hussars,  a  graceful  dancer,  and  one  of 
the  best  matches  in  town. 

The  Rostofs  were  acquainted  with  all  Moscow.  This  year 
the  old  count  had  plenty  of  money,  having  mortgaged  all 
his  possessions,  and  consequently  Nikolushka,  who  kept  his 
own  fast  trotter,  and  wore  the  most  stylish  riding  trousers,  of 
the  latest  cut,  such  as  had  never  before  been  seen  in  Moscow ; 
and  likewise  the  most  fashionable  boots,  with  very  pointed 
toes  and  little  silver  spurs,  was  enabled  to  spend  his  time  very 
agreeably. 

Now  that  he  was  at  home  again,  he  experienced  the  pleasant 
sensation  of  accommodating  himself  to  the  old  conditions  of  life 
after  an  interregnum  of  considerable  time.  It  seemed  to  him 
that  he  had  grown  to  be  very  much  of  a  man.  His  despair  at 
not  having  been  able  to  pass  his  examination  in  the  catechism, 
his  borrowing  of  money  from  Gavrilo  for  an  izvoshchik,  his 
clandestine  kisses  with  Sonya,  all  came  back  to  him  as  remem- 
brances of  a  childhood  from  which  he  was  now  immeasurably 
separated.  Now  he  was  a  lieutenant  of  hussars,  in  a  silver- 
laced  pelisse,  with  the  cross  of  Saint  George,  and  he  could 
enter  his  own  racer,  together  with  well-known,  experienced, 
and  respected  amateurs.  There  was  a  lady  of  his  acquaint- 
ance on  the  boulevard,  with  whom  he  used  to  spend  his 
evenings.  He  took  the  lead  of  the  mazurka  at  the  Arkharofs', 
discussed  war  with  Field-Marshal  Kamiensky,  was  an  habitu6 
of  the  English  club,  and  was  on  "thou"  terms  with  a  colonel 
of  forty  years,  to  whom  Denisof  had  introduced  him. 

His  passion  for  his  sovereign  had  somewhat  cooled  since  his 
return  to  Moscow,  since  he  did  not  see  him  and  had  no  oppor- 
tanity  of  seeing  him,  but  he  often  talked  about  him,  and  of 
his  love  for  him,  giving  people  to  understand  that  he  did  not 


10  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

tell  all;  that  there  was  something  in  his  feeling  toward  t  r^ 
emperor  that  was  not  comprehensible  to  all  men,  and  with  ^ 
whole  soul  he  entered  into  the  sentiment,  general  at  that  pe 
in  Moscow,  of  devotion  to  the  Emperor  Alexander  Pavlovi 
who  was  called  then  an^el  vo  ploti,  an  angel  in  the  flesh,  or 
angel  on  earth.  In^ 

During  Rostof's  short  stay  in  Moscow,  before  he  returned 
the  army,   instead  of  growing  nearer  to  Sonya  he  ratl^s^ 
drifted  away  from  her.     She  was  very  pretty  and  sweet, 
was  evidently  deeply  in  love  with  him,  but  he  had 
that  period  of  young  manhood  when  there  seem   to  be 
many  things  to  do  that  no  time  is  left  for  this,  and  the  yoi 
man  is  afraid  of  binding  himself  irrevocably,  and  learns 
prize  his  freedom,  since  it  is  necessary  to  him  for  other  thin 
When  he  thought  of  Sonya  during  these  days  of  his  visit 
home,  he  would  say  to  himself,  — 

'^  Eh  !  there  are  many,  many  more  as  good  as  she  is,  whom: 
have  not  had  a  chance  to  see  as  yet.     I  shall  have  time  eno 
whenever  1  want  to  engage  myself  and  fall  in  love,  but  now- 
will  have  none  of  it." 

Moreover,  it  seemed  to  him  that  there  was  something  rati 
derogatory  to  his  manhood  to  spend  his  time  in  the  society 
the  ladies.     If  he  went  to  balls  and  into  the  society  of  womi 
he  pretended  that  he  did  so  against  his  will.    Races,  the 
lish  club,  junketing  with  Denisof,  and  visits  there  were  q 
a  different  affair  \  such  things  were  becoming  to  a  gay  yo 
hussar ! 

About  the  beginning  of  March,  the  old  Count  Ilya  Andrej 
vitch  Rostof  was  occupied  with  the  preparations  for  a  din 
to  be  given  at  the  English  Club  in  honor  of  Prince  Bagrati 

The  count  in  his  dressing-gown  was  walking  up  and  do 
his  drawing-room,  giving  orders  to  the  club  steward  and 
famous  Feoktist,  the  old  cook  of  the  English  Club,  in  rega 
to  asparagus,  fresh  cucumbers,  strawberries,  veal,  and  fish  f< 
the  dinner  to  the  prince. 

The  count,  ever  since  the  founding  of  the  club,  had  been  a 
committee  man,  and  the  leading  spirit.  He  had  been  ap- 
pointed by  the  club  to  oversee  the  entertainment  for  Prinoo 
Bagration,  because  no  one  knew  so  well  as  he  did  how  to  oigan- 
ize  a  banquet  on  a  broad  and  hospitable  scale,  and  especiaUf 
because  no  one  else  could  or  would  spend  his  own  money  if  it 
were  necessary  to  make  it  a  success.  The  cook  and  steward 
of  the  club  listened  to  the  count's  orders  with  happy  face% 
because  they  knew  that  for  their  advantage  there  was  no  bet* 


■ 


r 


WAR  AMD  PEACE.  11 


er  person  for  them  to  have  to  manage  a  dinner  costing  several 
housand  rabies. 

[  "  Now  see  here,  put  esparcet  in  the  turtle  soup,  esparcet, 
;ou  know." 

"  Must  there  be  three  kinds  of  cold  dishes  ?  "  asked  the  cook. 

The  count  pondered:  "Certainly  not  less  than  three  — 
layonnaise,  one  "  —  said  he,  beginning  to  count  them  on  his 
ingers. 

"  Do  you  wish  me  to  order  some  large  sterlet,"  interrupted 
the  steward. 

"What  shall  we  do  if  there  are  no  good  ones?  Yes,  bat- 
[ushka,  certainly  —  I  came  near  forgetting.  See  here,  we  must 
lave  another  ejitree  on  the  table.  Oh  dear  me  I "  he  put  his 
;iands  to  his  head.  "  Now  who  is  going  to  get  me  flowers  — 
Vf itenka !  ah !  Mitenka  !  —  hurry  off,  Mitenka ! "  he  cried  to 
^is  overseer,  who  came  in  at  his  call,  "Hurry  off  to  my  estate 
yod'Moskovnaya^*  and  tell  Maksimka,  the  gardener,  to  get  up 
■he  decorations.  Tell  him  to  have  all  the  greenhouses  stripped, 
md  the  flowers  sent  up,  well  wrapped  in  felt.  Let  him  have 
wo  hundred  flower-pots  here  by  Friday. 

Having  given  a  profusion  of  various  other  orders,  he  was 
|ust  going  to  the  "little  countess's"  room  to  rest,  but  remem- 
)ering  some  important  item  he  turned  round,  called  back  the 
Iteward  and  cook  and  began  to  give  still  further  orders.  Just 
[hen  in  the  doorway  were  heard  the  light  steps  of  a  man,  the 
jingling  of  spurs  and  the  young  count,  handsome,  ruddy-faced, 
Vith  dark  moustache,  came  into  the  room ;  it  was  evident  that 
fee  restful,  easy-going  life  in  Moscowtigreed  with  him.  "  Akh  ! 
tiy  dear  boy,t  how  my  head  whirls  ! "  said  the  old  man,  smiling 
it  his  son  with  a  sort  of  humiliated  expression.  "  Come  now, 
f  you'd  only  help  me !  We  really  must  have  some  more  sing- 
'^rs.  I  shall  have  my  own  orchestra,  but  what  should  you 
hink  of  getting  the  gypsies.  Your  brotherhood  of  military 
nen  like  them." 

"  It's  a  fact,  papenka !  I  think  that  Prince  Bagration  when 
le  was  getting  ready  for  the  battle  of  Schongraben  did  not 
•nake  such  hard  work  of  it  as  you  are  doing  now,"  said  the 
/oung  man  with  a  smile. 

The  old  count  pretended  to  be  angry ;  "  Yes,  you  talk,  just 
•ry  it  yourself !  " 

J  And  the  count  turned  to  the  cook,  who  with  an  intelligent 
fnd  respectful  face  was  looking  on,  with  friendly  and  flatter- 
'Hg  eyes,  at  the  father  and  son. 

*  Any  estate  in  the  saburbs  of  Moscow.  f  Bratets  m6\. 


12  War  and  pmace. 

"That's  the  way  with  the  young  men,  hey,  Feoktist  ?  *^  sai 
he.     "  Always  maJdng  sport  of  us  old  fellows  ! " 

"  That's  so,  your  illustriousness,  all  they  want  is  to  hav 
good  things  to  eat  and  drink,  but  how  it's  got  and  served  i 
no  concern  of  theii-s." 

"  That's  it,  that's  it,"  cried  the  count,  and  gayly  seizing  hi 
son's  two  hands  cried :     "  Now  this  is  what  I  want,  since 
have  you.    Take  the  sledge  and  pair  and  hurry  off  to  Bezu 
khoi's  and  tell  him  that  the  count,  that  is  Ilya  Andreyitch 
sent  to  ask  for  some  fresh  strawberries  and  pineapples.     N 
one  else  has  any  at  all.     If  he  himself  is  not  there,  then  fin 
the  princesses  and  ask  them,  and  from  there,  mind  you,  dri 
to  the  Razgulyai  —  Ipatka,  the  coachman  will  know  the  way 
and  there  find  Ilyushka  the  Tsigan,  the  one  who  danced  an 
sang  in  a  white  kazakin  at  Count  Orlof  s,  you  remember,  aii 
bring  him  with  you  to  me  here." 

"Shall  I  bring  some  of  the  Tsigan  girls  with  him  too,' 
asked  Nikolai,  laughing." 

"  There  !  there ! " 

At  this  moment,  with  noiseless  steps,  and  with  her  inde- 
fatigable and  anxious,  and  at  the  same  time,  sweet  and 
Christian  expression,  which  never  deserted  her,  Anna  Mikhail- 
ovna  came  into  the  room.  In  spite  of  the  fact  that  Ajina 
Mikhailovna  every  day  discovered  the  count  in  his  dressing- 
gown,  each  time  he  was  abashed,  and  offered  her  apologies 
for  his  costume. 

"  No  matter,  count,  my  dear,"  said  she,  blandly  closing  hei 
eyj3S.    "  I  myself  am  goingito  the  Bezukhoi's.     Pierre  has  come, 
and  now  we  can  get  anything  from  his  greenhouses.     I  have 
been  wanting  to  see  him.     He  sent  me  a  letter  from  Boris.' 
Slava  Bohu  !  —  Glory  to  God !  —he  is  now  on  the  staff." 

The  count  was  delighted  to  have  one  part  of  his  commis- 
sion undertaken  by  Anna  Mikhailovna,  and  bade  her  make 
use  of  the  coupe. 

"You  tell  Bezukhoi  to  come.  I  will  write  him  a  note. 
How  are  he  and  his  wife  getting  along  ?  "  asked  the  count. 

Anna  Mikhailovna  rolled  up  her  eyes,  and  her  face  ex- 
pressed deep  affliction. 

"  Akh,  my  dear !  he's  very  unhappy,"  said  she ;  "  if  it  is 
true,  what  we  have  heard,  it  is  terrible  !  And  could  we  have 
dreamed  of  such  a  thing,  when  we  rejoiced  so  in  his  happi 
ness  !  And  such  a  lofty,  heavenly  soul  this  young  Bezukho 
is !  Yes,  I  pity  him  from  the  bottom  of  my  heart !  and^  I 
mean  to  do  all  that  within  me  lies,  to  give  him  consolation." 


WAR  AND  PEACE. 


13 


Tell  us  what  is  it?"  asked  both  the  Rostofs^  elder  and 
iger. 

na  Mikhailovna  drew  a  deep  sigh.     "  Dolokhof,  Marya 

ovna's  son "  said  she,  in  a  mysterious  whisper,  '^  has,  so 

say,   absolutely  compromised    her.    Pierre  introduced 

to  her,  took  him  to  his  own  house  in  Petersburg,  and 

—  she  came  here  and  that  madcap  fellow  followed  her," 

Anna  Mikhailovna,  trying  to  express  her  sympathy  for 

but  involuntarily  by  the  inflections  of  her  voice  and 

the  half  smile  on  her  face,  showing  more  sympathy  for  the 

adcap  fellow,"  as  she  called  Dolokhof .     "  They  say  Pierre 

rfectly  broken  by  his  trial." 

Well  then,  be  sure  to  tell  him  to  come  to  the  club.     It 

acKi  help  to  distract  him.    It  will  be  a  stunning  banquet ! " 

3(l0n  the  next  day  the  fifteenth  of  March,  at  two  o'clock  in 

afternoon,  two  hundred  and  fifty  members  of  the  English 

b  and  fifty  guests  were  waiting  for  their  distinguished 

st.  Prince  Bagration,  the  hero  of  the  Austrian  campaign. 

[At  first  the  news  of  the  battle  of  Austerlitz  had  been  re- 

ved  at  Moscow  with  incredulity.     The  Russians  had  been 

accustomed  to  victory,  that  when  they  heard  of  jthe  defeat, 

il-fee  simply  refused  to  believe  it,  others  sought  explanations 

such  a  strange  circumstance  in  extraordinary  causes.     In 

month  of  December  when  the  news  was  fully  confirmed, 

the  English  Club,  which  was  a  rendezvous  for  all  men  of 

or  who  had  trustworthy  sources  of  information,  and 

rywhere  else,  nothing  was  said  about  the  war  and  the 

nt  defeat,  just  as  though  there  had  been  common  consent 

hush  the  matter  up.     Men  who  were  apt  to  give  the  cue  to 

versation,  —  for  instance  Count  Rostopchin,  Prince  Yuri 

adimirovitch  Dolgoruky,  Yaluyef,  Count  Markof,   Prince 

azemsky,  —  did  not  show  themselves  at  the  club  at  all,  but 

t  at  their  own  houses  in  their  own  intimate  circles,  and  the 

st  of  the  Moscovites,  who  never  had  any  opinions  of  their 

n — and  in  this  number  we  must  reckon  also  Ilya  Andrey- 

h  Rostof  —  remained  for  a  short  time  without  any  definite 

inion  in  regard  to   the   war,   and  without    their  natural 

eaders. 

These  Moscovites  had  a  dim  idea  that  something  was  wrong 
JRud  that  it  was  hard  to  arrive  at  a  proper  judgment  in  regard 
to  this  bad  news,  and  therefore  they  preferred  to  keep  silent. 

But  after  some  time,  when  the  big  wigs  who  directed  opin- 
ion at  the  club  came  back  like  jurors  after  a  consultation  in 
the  jury  room,  then  all  was  made  clear  and  definite.    Reasons 


L L 


14  WAR  AND  PEACE, 

were  founA  for  this  incredible,  unheard-of,  and  impossible  cir- 
cumstance, that  the  Russians  were  beaten.  It  now  became 
perfectly  clear,  and  one  and  the  same  thing  was  said  in  all  the 
corners  of  Moscow.  These  were  the  reasons :  The  treachery 
of  Austria,  the  wretched  victualling  of  the  troops,  the  tieason 
of  the  Pole  Prsczebiszewsky  and  the  Frenchman  Langeron,  the 
incapacity  of  Kutuzof  and  —  spoken  with  bated  breath  — 
the  youth  and  inexperience  of  the  sovereign,  who  had  placed 
his  confidence  in  inefficient  and  insignificant  men. 

But  the  army,  the  Russian  army,  —  and  all  agreed  in  regard 
to  this  —  was  extraordinary,  and  had  accomplished  prodigies 
of  valor.  Soldiers,  oflRcers,  generals,  all  were  heroes.  But 
the  hero  of  heroes  was  Prince  Bagration,  who  had  won  imper- 
ishable glory  by  his  victory  of  Schongraben  and  his  retreat  at 
Austerlitz,  where  he  alone  had  led  off  his  division  unbroken, 
and  had  fought  the  livelong  day  against  an  enemy  double  his 
numbers.  What  added  still  more  ^clat  to  his  repute  as  a 
hero,  was  the  fact  that  he  had  no  kin  in  Moscow,  and  was  a 
foreigner.  He  was  considered  as  the  representative  of  the 
simple  heroic  Russian  soldier,  who  had  won  his  way  without 
connections  and  intrigues,  and  was  moreover  associated  with 
recollections  of  the  Italian  campaign,  and  the  name  of  Suvarof. 
And  then  again  by  showing  him  such  distinguished  honors,  it 
was  felt  that  there  could  be  no  better  way  of  showing  Kutuzof 
ill  will  and  disapprobation.  "  If  there  were  no  Bagration,  we 
should  have  to  manufacture  one  —  il  faudrait  Pinventer ''  said 
the  jester  Shinshin,  with  a  parody  on  Voltaire's  witticism. 
Scarcely  any  one  spoke  of  Kutuzof,  and  those  who  did  abused 
him  under  their  breath,  calling  him  the  court  weathercock, 
and  an  old  satyr.  * 

Prince  Dolgorukof  s  witticism  was  repeated  all  over  Mos- 
cow: "Stick  to  the  plaster,  and  you'll  become  a  master;" 
thus  he  consoled  himself  for  our  defeat  by  the  I'emembrance 
of  former  victories.  Men  likewise,  freely  quoted  Rostopchin's 
clever  saying,  that  "  you  have  to  spur  the. French  soldier  to 
battle  with  high-sounding  phrases;  the  Germans  must  have 
it  logically  proved  to  them  that  it  is  more  dangerous  to 
run  away  than  it  is  to  advance  ;  while  the  Russian  soldier,  on 
the  contrary,  must  be  held  back  and  urged  to  go  gently." 

On  all  sides  were  heard  new  and  ever  new  tales  of  individ- 
ual examples  of  heroism,  shown  by  our  officers  and  soldiers  at 
Austerlitz.  This  man  saved  a  standard,  that  one  killed  five 
Frenchmen,  the  other  alone  loaded  five  cannons.  They  spoke 
of  Berg,  even  those  who  did  not  know  him,  and  told  how, 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  15 

when  he  was  wounded  in  his  right  arm,  he  took  his  sword 
in  his  left  hand  and  dashed  forward.  Nothing  was  heard 
of  Bolkonsky,  and  only  those  who  knew  him  intimately, 
lamented  his  premature  death,  and  pitied  bis  wife,  with  her 
unborn  child,  and  his  droll  old  father. 


CHAPTER  III. 

On  the  fifteenth  of  March,  in  all  the  various  rooms  of  the 
i English  Club  was  heard  the  hum  of  busy  voices,  and  like 
bees  at  the  spring  swarming  time,  the  members  and  guests  of 
the  club,  dressed  in  uniforms,  dress  coats,  and  some  even  in 
powder  and  kaftans,  roamed  back  and  forth,  sat  down,  stood 
np,  met  and  parted.  Powdered  and  liveried  footmen  in  small- 
clothes and  slippers  stood  at  each  door,  and  strove  eagerly  to 
anticipate  each  motion  of  the  guests  and  members,  so  as  to  offer 
their  services.  The  majority  of  those  present  were  well  on  in 
jears,  men  of  distinction  with  broad  self-«atisfied  faces,  plump 
fingers,  resolute  gestures  and  voices.  The  guests  and  members 
lOf  this  class  occupied  the  well-known  places  of  honor,  .and  were 
sarrounded  by  little  circles  of  well-known  and  distinguished 
lien. 

^  Those  that  formed  the  minority  were  chance  guests,  pre-em- 
jbently  young  men,  among  whom  were  Denisof,  Eostof,  and 
Bolokhof,  the  last  being  now  an  officer  of  the  Semyonovsky 
Wgiment  once  more.  The  faces  of  these  young  men,  especially 
those  who  belonged  to  the  army,  wore  that  expression  of  con- 
Itinptuous  deference  toward  their  elders,  which  seemed  to  say 
to  the  older  generation  :  "  We  are  ready  to  respect  and  honor 
Jon,  but^  remember  that  nevertheless  the  future  is  ours." 

Kesvitsky  was  there,  also,  in  the  capacity  of  a  former  mem- 
ber of  the  club. 

Pierre,  who,  by  his  wife's  advice,  had  let  his  hair  grow,  re- 
itonneed  his  spectacles,  and  dressed  in  the  height  of  style,  wan- 
dered through  the  rooms  with  a  melancholy  and  dismal  mien. 
^  asnal,  he  was  surrounded  by  that  atmosphere  of  worship 
*eied  by  those  who  bow  before  riches,  and  he,  having  now  be- 

^me  accustomed  to  this  dominion,  treated  such  sycophants 

h  careless  scorn. 

In  years,  he  should  have  associated  with  the  young  men, 

t  by  his  wealth  and  importance,  he  gravitated  toward  the 

fcles  of  the  older  and  more  influential  guests,  and  conse- 
ntly  he  drifted  from  one  group  to  another.    Central  circles 


16  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

were  formed  by  some  of  the  most  distingaished  old  men, 
around  whom  respectfully  gathered  many  of  theHftfes  conspicu- 
ous, for  the  purpose  of  listening  to  the  great  ones.  Such 
groups  were  formed  around  Count  Rostopchin,  Valuyef,  and 
Naruishkin.  Eostopchin  was  telling  how  the  Russians  were 
caught  by  the  fugitive  Austrians,  and  obliged  to  force  their 
way  through  at  the  point  of  the  bayonet. 

Valuyef  confidentially  announced  that  Uvarof  had  been  sent 
from  Petersburg  to  learn  the  opinion  of  the  Moscovites  in  re- 
gard to  Austerlitz. 

In  the  third  great  circle,  Naniishkin  was  telling  about  a 
session  of  an  Austrian  council  of  war  at  which  Suvarof 
crowed  like  a  cock  in  answer  to  the  absurdities  spoken  by  the 
Austrian  generals.  Shinshin,  who  formed  one  of  the  group, 
tried  to  raise  a  laugh  by  saying  that  evidently  Kutuzof  had 
not  been  able  to  learn  of  Suvarof  even  such  a  simple  thing  as 
to  crow  like  a  cock  ;  but  the  elderly  men  looked  sternly  at  the 
jester,  giving  him  thereby  to  feel  that  on  such  a  day,  and  in 
such  a  place,  it  was  unseemly  so  to  speak  of  Kutuzof. 

Count  Ilya  Andreyitch  Eostof,  in  his  soft  boots,  hovered, 
full  of  anxiety  and  solicitude,  between  the  dining-room  and 
the  parlors,  giving  always  the  same  hasty  greeting  to  every 
one  he  met,  whether  men  of  mark  or  not  men  of  mark,  his  ac- 
quaintance including  everybody,  without  exception,  occasion- 
ally looking  around  for  his  handsome  young  son,  at  whom  he 
would  look  with  delight  and  a  nod  of  satisfaction.  Young  Ros- 
tof  stood  in  the  embrasure  of  a  window,'  with  Dolokhof,  whose 
acquaintance  he  had  recently  made  and  felt  to  be  congenial. 

The  old  count  came  up  to  them  and  shook  hands  with  Dol- 
okhof,— 

"  I  beg  of  you  to  come  and  see  us  ;  since  you  and  my  yoimg 
man  here  are  friends ;  you  and  he  played  the  heroes  together, 
yonder.  Ah !  Vasili  Ignatyitch  !  Good  afternoon,  old  friend," 
cried  he,  turning  to  welcome  a  little  old  man,  just  entering. 

But  he  did  not  have  time  to  add  the  usual  greeting :  there 
was  a  stir,  and  a  footman  with  awestruck  face  announced, — 

"  He  has  come." 

The  bell  rang ;  the  elders  hastened  forward  ;  the  guests  scat- 
tered in  the  different  rooms,  like  rye  gathered  up  by  the  shovel, 
congregated  in  a  throng,  and  stood  in  the  great  drawing-room 
at  the  door  of  the  hall. 

At  the  entrance  appeared  Bagration,  without  his  hat  and 
sword,  which,  according  to  the  club  custom,  he  had  left  in 
care  of  the  Swiss.     He  was  dressed  not  in  his  lamb-skin  cap 


J 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  17 

with  his  whip  oyer  his  shoulder,  as  Rostof  had  seen  him 
the  aight  before  the  .battle  of  Austerlitz,  but  in  a  new  and 
tight-fitting  uniform,  with  Russian  and  foreign  *  orders,  and 
with  the  star  of  the  Creorge  on  his  left  breast.  He  had  evi- 
dently just  had  his  hair  and  whiskers  trimmed,  and  this  did 
not  change  his  appearance  for  the  better. 

His  face  had  a  naively  festive  look^  which,  being  inappro- 
priate to  his  firm,  manly  features,  gave  him  a  rather  comical 
expression. 

Bekleshof  and  Feodor  Petrovitch  Uvarof,  who  came  to- 
gether with  him,  paused  at  the  doorway,  waiting  for  him  as 
the  guest  of  honor,  to  precede  them.  Bagration  was  confused, 
not  wishing  to  take  advantage  of  their  politeness ;  there  was  a 
little  pause  at  the  entrance,  and  finally  Bagration,  after  all, 
eame  forward.  He  walked  across  the  inlaid  floor  of  the  recep- 
tion-room awkwardly  and  bashfully,  not  knowing  what  to  do 
with  his  hands  :  it  would  have  been  much  more  to  his  mind, 
and  much  easier  for  him,  to  cross  a  ploughed  field  under  a  rain 
of  bullets,  as,  for  instance,  he  had  done  when  leading  the  Kursk 
regiment  at  the  battle  of  Schongraben. 

The  older  gentlemen  met  him  at  the  door,  said  a  few  words 
expressive  of  their  delight  at  seeing  such  an  illustrious  guest, 
and  without  waiting  for  his  reply,  seized  him,  as  it  were,  and 
dragged  him  off  into  the  drawing-room.  Around  the  doors  of 
the  drawing-room  there  was  such  a  crowd  that  it  was  impossi- 
ble to  pass.  Members  and  guests  crushed  each  other,  and 
tried  to  look  over  each  others'  shoulders  for  a  glance  at  Bagra- 
tion, as  though  he  were  some  wild  beast. 

Count  Ilya  Andreyitch,  laughing  and  talking  more  ener- 
getically than  all  the  rest,  pushed  through  the  throng,  crying 
"  Make  way,  mon  cher,  make  way,  please,  make  way,"  and  led 
the  guests  into  the  drawing-room,  and  placed  them  on  the  cen- 
tral divan,  where  now  all  the  bigwigs  and  the  most  dis- 
tinguished members  of  the  club  gathered  in  an  eager  throng. 

Count  Ilya  Andreyevitch,  again  pushing  his  way  through 
the  crowd,  left  the  room,  but  quickly  reappeared  with  another 
of  the  directors,  bearing  a  huge  silver  salver  which  he  pre- 
sented to  Prince  Bagration.  On  the  salver  lay  some  verses 
composed  and  printed  in  the  hero's  honor. 

Bagration,  seeing  the  salver,  looked  around  in  alarm,  as 
though  seeking  for  refuge.  But  all  eyes  demanded  his  sub- 
mission, and  Bagration,  feeling  that  he  was  in  their  power, 
seized  the  salver  resolutely  with  both  hands,  and  looked  gravely 
and  reproachfully  at  the  count  who  brought  it  to  him.  Some 
vou2,— 2, 


18  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

one  gallantly  relieved  the  prince  of  the  salver  —  for  otherwise, 
he  would  have  evidently  felt  it  incumbent  upon  him  to  hold  it 
in  his  hands  till  evening,  and  even  gone  out  to  dinner  with  it 
—  and  directed  his  attention  to  the  ode.  "  Well,  I  w411  read 
it/'  Prince  Bagration  seemed  to  say,  and  fastening  his  weary 
eyes  on  the  parchment,  tried  to  read  it  with  serious  and  con- 
centrated attention.  But  the  composer  of  the  ode  took  it  and 
began  to  read  it  aloud.  Prince  Bagration  bent  his  head  and 
listened, — 

"  Pride  of  Alexander's  age  ! 
Be  of  our  Titus'  throne  the  stern  defender! 
At  once  the  mighty  chief  and  humble  sage: 

At  home,  a  Ripheiis,  Osesar,  'mid  the  battle's  splendor! 
Yes!  e*en  victorious  Napoleon 
By  sad  experience  has  learned  Bagration ! 
Now  justice  to  the  Alcide  Russians  he  must  rende. 
And  fear"  — 

But  even  while  he  was  in  the  midst  of  his  ode,  the  stentorian 
major-domo  proclaimed  "  Dinner  is  ready  !  "  The  door  was 
flung  open,  and  from  the  dining-room  were  heard  the  resound- 
ing notes  of  the  polonaise  :  "  Roll,  ye  thunder  tones  of  victon", 
gaJlant  Russian  hearts  rejoice,'^  and  Count  Ilya  Andreyitcn, 
giving  the  author  a  severe  look  for  still  continuing  to  read  his 
verses,  came  and  made  a  low  bow  before  Bagration. 

All  rose  to  their  feet,  feeling  that  the  dinner  was  of  more 
consequence  than  poetry,  and  Bagration  was  obliged  to  lead 
the  way  to  the  dining-room.  He  was  assigned  to  the  seat  of 
honor  between  the  two  Alexanders,  Bekleshof  and  Karuishkin, 
which  was  meant  as  a  delicate  allusion  to  the  name  of  the  sov- 
ereign. Three  hundred  men  took  their  places  at  the  table,  ac- 
cording to  their  ranks  and  stations ;  those  most  distinguished 
being  nearest  to  the  guest  of  honor,  just  as  natui*ally  as  water 
flows  deepest  where  there  is  the  greatest  descent. 

Just  before  the  dinner  began.  Count  Ilya  Andreyitch  pre- 
sented his  son  to  the  prince.  Bagration,  recognizing  him, 
mumbled  a  few  words,  awkward  and  incoherent,  like  every- 
thing else  that  he  said  that  day.  Count  Ilya  Andreyitch  looked 
around  gleefully  and  proudly  on  all,  while  Bagration  was  talk- 
ing to  his  son. 

Nikolai  Rostof,  with  Denisof  and  his  new  acquaintance,  Dol- 
okhof,  sat  together  almost  at  the  centre  of  the  table.  Opposite 
to  them  sat  Pierre,  next  to  Prince  Nesvitsky.  Count  Ilya 
Andreyitch's  seat  was  opposite  Bagration,  with  the  other  di- 
rectors, and  he  did  the  honors  to  the  prince,  personifying  in 
himself  the  hospitality  of  Moscow, 


WAtt  AND  PMACti.  19 

•  His  labors  were  not  spent  in  vain.  The  dinner,  which  was 
served  both  for  those  who  were  keeping  Lent  and  for  those 
who  were  not,  was  magniiicenty  bat  still,  he  could  not  feel  per- 
fectly at  ease  until  the  very  end.  He  kept  beckoning  to  the 
butler,  whispering  directions  to  the  waiters,  and  not  without 
agitation,  looked  for'the  arrival  of  each  course  which  he  knew 
so  well.    All  passed  off  admirably. 

At  the  second  course,  when  they  brought  on  the  gigantic 
sterlet,  at  the  sight  of  which  Ilya  Andreyevitch  flushed  with 
joy  and  modesty,  the  waiters  began  to  uncork  the  bottles  and 
pour  out  the  champagne. 

After  the  fish,  which  produced  a  great  impression.  Count 
Ilya  Andreyiteh  glanced  at  the  other  directors.  "  There  are  so 
many  toasts,  it  is  time  to  begin,"  he  said,  in  a  whisper,  and 
taking  his  wine  cup  in  his  hand,  he  got  up.  All  grew  still  and 
waited  what  he  should  have  to  say. 

"  To  the  health  of  our  sovereign,  the  emperor,"  he  cried,  and 
at  the  same  time  his  kindly  eyes  were  dimmed  with  tears  of 
pleasure  and  enthusiasm.  At  the  same  time,  the  band  broke 
oat  with  the  polonaise  again :  "  Roll,  ye  thunder  tones."  All 
arose  in  their  places  and  cried,  "  hurrah,"  and  Bagration  also 
joined  in  shouting  with  the  same  voice  which  had  cried  "  hur- 
rah "  on  the  field  of  Schongraben.. 

Young  RostoFs  enthusiastic  voice  was  heard  above  all  the 
other  three  hundred.     He  could  hardly  refrain  from  tears. 

"  Hurrah  for  the  emperor  !  "  he  cried,  "  hurrah."  Draining 
his  glass  at  one  draught,  he  smashed  it  on  the  floor.  Many 
followed  his  example.  And  the  deafening  shouts  continued 
for  a  long  time.  When  silence  was  restored,  the  servants  swept 
up  the  broken  glass,  and  all,  having  resumed  their  seats,  began 
to  converse  and  laugh  again. 

Then  Count  Ilya  Andreyiteh  arose  once  more,  and  proposed 
the  health  of  the  hero  of  our  last  campaign.  Prince  Piotr  Ivan- 
ovitch  Bagration,  and  again  the  count's  blue  eyes  grew  tender 
with  tears.  "Hurrah!"  again  rang  out  the  three  hundred 
voices ;  but  this  time,  instead  of  the  band,  the  choir  of  singers 
struck  up  a  cantata  composed  by  Pavel  Ivanovitch  Kutuzof, — 

■ 

"  Obstacles  are  naught  to  Kussians; 

Courage  wins  the  victor's  crown! 
If  Bagration  lead  our  columns, 

We  shall  hew  the  foemandown." 

As  soon  as  the  singers  had  finished,,  fresh  toasts  kept  fol- 
lowing, at  which  Count  Ilya  Andreyiteh  grew  more  and  more 


20  \^AR  ANb  PSACJS. 

sentimental,  and  more  and  more  glasses  were  smashed,  and  the 
shouts  grew  ever  more  boisterous.  They  drank  to  the  health 
of  Bekleshof,  Naruishkin,  Uvarof,  Dolgorukof,  Apraksin,  Va- 
luyef,  to  the  health  of  the  directors,  to  the  health  of  the  com- 
mittee-men, to  the  health  of  all  the  membera  of  the  club,  to 
the  health  of  all  the  guests  of  the  club,  afld,  finally,  as  a  special 
honor,  to  the  health  of  the  master  of  ceremonies.  Count  Ilya 
Adreyitch.  At  this  toast,  the  count  took  out  his  handkerchief 
and  hiding  his  face,  actually  wept. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

Pierre  sat  opposite  Dolokhof  and  Nikolai  Bostof.  He  ate 
much  and  greedily,  and,  as  usual,  drank  much.  But  those  who 
knew  him  intimately,  observed  that  a  great  change  had  come 
over  him  that  day.  He  said  nothing  all  the  time  of  the  dinner ; 
scowling  arid  frowning,  he  looked  about  him ;  or  with  downcast 
eyes  and  a  look  of  absolute  abstraction,  picked  his  nose  with 
his  finger.  His  face  was  gloomy  and  dismal.  Apparently  he 
did  not  see  or  hear  anything  that  was  going  on  around  him, 
and  was  absorbed  in  some  disagreeable  and  unsolvable  prob- 
lem. 

This  unsolvable  problem  which  tormented  him  was  caused 
by  the  hints  of  the  princess  in  Moscow  in  regard  to  Dolokhof  s 
intimacy  with  his  wife,  and  by  an  anonymous  letter  received 
that  very  morning,  wherein  it  was  said  in  that  dastardly  mock- 
ing tone  char^teristio  of  anonymous  letters,  that  his  spectacles 
did  him  very  little  good,  and  that  his  wife's  criminal  intimacy 
with  Dolokhof  was  a  secret  for  him  alone. 

Pierre  resolutely  refused  to  heed  the  princess's  insinuations 
or  the  letter,  but  it  was  terrible  for  him  to  look  now  at  Dolo- 
khof, sitting  opposite  him.  Every  time  that  his  glance  fell  ac- 
cidentally upon  Dolokhof's  handsome,  insolent  eyes,  he  was 
conscious  of  something  awful  and  ugly  arising  in  his  soul,  and 
he  would  quickly  turn  away.  Involuntarily  remembering  all 
his  wife's  past,  and  her  behavior  toward  Dolokhof,  Pierre  saw 
clearly  that  what  was  expressed  so  brutally  in  the  letter  might 
very  well  be  true,  might,  at  least,  seem  true,  did  it  not  concern 
his  wife  / 

Pierre  could  not  help  recalling  how  Dolokhof,  on  being  re- 
stored to  his  rank  after  the  campaign,  had  returned  to  Peters- 
burg and  come  to  him.  Taking  advantage  of  the  friendship 
arising  from  their  former  sprees  together,  Dolokhof  had  come 


I 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  21 

straight  to  his  house,  and  Pierre  had  taken  him  in  and  loaned 
him  money.  Pierre  remembered  how  Ellen,  with  her  set  smile, 
expressed  her  discontent  at  having  Dolokhof  living  under  their 
roof ;  and  how  Dolokhof  had  cynically  praised  before  him  his 
wife's  beauty,  and  how,  from  that  time  forth  until  his  coming 
to  Moscow,  he  had  not  budged  from  their  house. 

"  Yes,  he  is  very  handsome,"  thought  Pierre,  "  I  know  him. 
In  his  estimation  it  would  be  admirable  sport  to  besmirch  my 
name  and  tuiii  me  into  ridicule,  just  for  the  very  reason  that 
I  was  doing  so  much  for  him,  and  taking  care  of  him  and  help- 
ing him.  I  know,  I  understand,  what  spice  it  would  add  in 
his  estimation  to  his  villany,  if  this  were  true !  Yes,  if  it 
were  true ;  but  I  don't  believe  it !  I  have  no  right  to  believe 
it,  and  I  cannot ! " 

He  remembered  the  expression  which  Dolokhof 's  face  had 
borne  at  times  when  he  was  engaged  in  his  acts  of  deviltry,  as 
for  instance  when  they  had  tied  tJie  policeman  to  the  f^ar  and 
flung  them  into  the  river,  or  when  without  any  provocation, 
he  had  challenged  men  to  fight  duels,  or  shot  the  post  driver's  * 
horse  dead  with  his  pistol.  This  expression  he  had  often 
noticed  lately  on  Dolokhof's  face." 

"Yes,  he's  a  bully,"  said  Pierre  to  himself,  "he  would 
think  nothing  of  killing  a  man  ;  it  is  essential  for  him  to 
think  that  every  one  is  afraid  of  him  ;  this  must  be  pleasant 
to  him.  He  must  think  that  I  am  afraid  of  him.  And  in 
fact  I  am  afraid  of  him,"  thought  Pierre,  and  again  at  these 
suggestions  the  awful  and  ugly  something  arose  in  his  mind. 

Dolokhof,  Denisof,  and  Eostof  were  still  sitting  opposite  to 
Pierre,  and  seemed  to  be  very  lively.  Rostof  was  gayly  chat- 
ting with  his  two  friends,  one  of  whom  was  a  clever  hussar, 
the  other  a  well-known  bully  and  madcap,  and  occasionally 
he  glanced  rather  mockingly  at  Pierre,  who  had  impressed 
him  by  the  concentrated,  abstracted,  and  stolid  expression  of 
his  countenance.  Bostof  looked  at  Pierre  with  a  malevolent 
expression,  in  the  first  place  because  Pierre,  in  the  eyes  of  a 
hussar  like  him,  was  merely  a  millionaire  civilian,  the  hus- 
band of  a  pretty  woman,  and  moreover  was  a  haha  —  an  old 
woman  !  in  the  second  place,  because  Pierre,  in  his  abstracted 
state  of  mind,  did  not  recognize  Rostof,  or  return  his  bow. 
When  they  stood  up  to  drink  the  toast  to  the  emperor,  Pierre 
was  so'  lost  in  his  thoughts,  that  he  forgot  to  get  up  with  the 
others,  and  did  not  lift  his  wineglass. 

"  What's  the  matter  with  you  ?  "  shouted  Kostof,  his  eyes 

*  YaiMhchiki  driver  or  postilion. 


22  WAR  Attn  PEACE. 

flashing  with  righteous  indignation,  as  he  looked  at  him, 
"  Why  don't  you  pay  attention  :  the  health  of  our  sovereign, 
the  emperor ! " 

Pierre  with  a  sigh  humbly  got  to  his  feet,  drained  his  glass, 
and  then  after  they  had  all  sat  down,  he  turned  to  Bostof 
with  his  good-natured  smile  :  "  Ah !  I  did  not  recognize  you," 
said  he. 

But  Kostof  was  engaged  in  shouting  '  hurrah  '  so  that  this 
was  lost  on  him.  "  Aren't  you  going  to  renew  the  acquain- 
tance ?  "  asked  Dolokhof  of  Rostof . 

"Curse  the  fool  I"* 

"  One  must  oawess  a  pwetty  woman's  husband,"  said  Denisof. 
Pierre  did  not  catch  what  they  said,  but  he  knew  that  they 
were  talking  about  him.     He  reddened,  and  turned  away. 

"Well,  now  to  the  health  ofvthe  pretty  women  I"  said 
Dolokhof,  and  with  a  serious  expression,  though  a  smile 
lurked^in  the  corners  of  his  mouth,  he  lifted  his  glass  to 
Pierre.  "  To  the  health  of  the  pretty  women,  Petrusha,  and— 
their  lovers ! "  he  added. 

Pierre  dropping  his  eyes,  sipped  his  glass,  not  looking  at 
Dolokhof  or  making  him  any  reply. 

A  lackey,  who  was  distributing  copies  of  Kutnzof  s  cantata, 
handed  one  of  the  sheets  to  Pierre  as  being  among  the  more 
distinguished  guests.  Pierre  was  going  to  take  it,  but  Dolo- 
khof leaned  over,  snatched  the  sheet  from  his  hand  and  began 
to  read  it.  Pierre  stared  at  Dolokhof ;  his  pupils  contracted ; 
that  awful  and  ugly  something  that  had  been  tormenting  him 
all  the  dinner  time,  now  arose  in  him  and  overmastered  him. 
He  leaned  his  heavy  frame  across  the  table. 

"  Don't  you  dare  to  take  it ! "  he  cried. 

Nesvitsky  and  his  right-hand  neighbor,  hearing  him  speak 
in  such  a  tone  of  voice,  and  seeing  whom  he  was  dealing  with, 
were  filled  with  alarm  and  hastily  tried  to  calm  him. 

"That's  enough!"— "Be  careful!  Think  what  you're 
doing ! "  whispered  anxious  voices. 

Dolokhof  stared  at  Pierre  with  his  bright,  merry,  insolent 
eyes,  and  with  that  smile  of  his  that  seemed  to  say,  "  This  is 
what  I  like." 

"  I  will  not  give  it  back  "  he  said,  measuring  his  words. 

Pale,  with  twitching  lips,  Pierre  snatched  back  the  sheet  of 
paper.  "  You  —  you  —  blackguard  !  —  I  shall  call  you  to  ac- 
count for  this ! "  he  cried,  and  pushing  away  his  chair  rose 
from  the  table. 

•  Bog  8  nim,  durak :  UtenHy,  **  God  be  with  him,  fool  or  idiot." 


WAn  AND  PEACE,  23 

At  the  very  instant  that  Pierre  did  this,  and  pronounced 
these  words,  he  felt  that  the  problem  of  his  wife's  guilt, 
which  had  been  torturing  him  for  the  pastJiwenty-four  hours, 
was  finally  and  definitely  settled  beyond  a  peradventure.  He 
hated  her,  and  the  breach  between  them  was  widened  irrevo- 
cably. 

In  spite  of  Denisof  s  urgency  that  Rostof  should  not  get 
mixed  up  in  this  affair,  Rostof  consented  to  act  as  Dolokhof's 
second,  and  after  dinner  he  arranged  with  Nesvitsky,  Bezu- 
khoi's  second,  in  regard  to  the  conditions  of  the  duel.  Pierre 
went  home,  and  Bostof,  together  with  Denisof  and  Dolokhof, 
stayed  at  the  club  till  late,  listening  to  the  gypsies  and  the 
singers. 

''  Well,  then,  till  to-morrow,  at  Sokolniki,"  said  Dolokhof, 
taking  his  leave  of  Rostof  on  the  club  steps. 

"  And  you  are  confident  ?  "  asked  Rostof. 

Dolokhof  paused  —  "  Now  see  here,  I  will  give  you  in  two 
words  the  whole  secret  of  duelling.  If  you  are  going  to  fight 
a  duel  and  write  your  will  and  affectionate  letters  to  your 
father  and  mother,  if  you  get  it  into  your  head  that  you  are 
going  to  be  killed,  then  you  are  an  idiot  —  a  durak — and 
deserve  to  fall,  but  if  you  go  with  firm  intention  to  kill  him 
as  quickly  and  certainly  as  you  can,  then  you  are  all  right,  as 
our  Kostroma  bear-driver  told  me.  ^  How  can  you  help  being 
afraid  of  the  bear  ? '  says  he,  '  yes,  but  when  you  once  see 
him,  your  only  fear  is  that  he  will  get  away.'  Well  that's 
the  way  it  is  with  me !     A  demain,  man  cher/" 

On  the  next  morning  at  eight  o'clock,  Pierre  and  Nesvitsky 
drove  to  the  woods  of  Sokolniki,  and  found  there  Dolokhof, 
Denisof,  and  Rostof  waiting  for  them.  Pierre  had  the  aspect 
of  a  man  entirely  absorbed  in  his  reflections,  and  absolutely 
incognizant  of  the  affair  before  him.  His  countenance  was 
haggard  and  yellow.  He  had  evidently  not  slept  the  night 
before.  He  glanced  around  him  vaguely,  and  frowned  as 
though  blinded  by  the  bright  sun.  Two  considerations  exclu- 
sively occupied  him :  his  wife's  guilt  of  which,  after  his  sleep- 
less night,  he  had  no  longer  the  slightest  doubt,  and  Dolokhof's 
innocence,  granting  that  he  had  no  reason  to  guard  the  honor 
of  a  stranger. 

'^  Maybe,  I  should  have  done  the  same  thing,  if  I  had  been 
in  his  place,"  said  Pierre  to  himself,  "  I  am  perfectly  certain 
that  I  should ;  why  then  this  duel,  this  homicide  ?  Either  I 
shall  kill  him,  or  he  will  put  a  bullet  through  my  head,  in  my 
elbow  or  my  knee.     Can't  I  get  out  of  it  somehow,  run  away, 


S4  W^ti  AND  PUACE, 

hide  myself  somewhere  ?  "  This  thought  came  into  his  mind. 
But  at  the  very  instant  that  these  suggestions  were  offering 
themselves  to  hii^  he  with  his  usual  calm,  and  absent-minded 
expression  —  which  aroused  the  respect  of  those  who  saw 
him  —  was  asking  if  all  were  ready,  and  they  should  begin 
soon  ? 

When  all  had  been  arranged,  and  the  swords  stuck  upright 
in  the  snow,  to  mark  the  limits  for  them  to  advance,  and  the 
pistols  had  been  loaded,  Nesvitsky  went  up  to  Pierre. 

"  I  should  not  be  doing  my  duty,  count,"  said  he,  in  a  fal- 
tering voice,  "or  be  worthy  of  the  confidence  and  honor  which 
you  confide  in  my  hands,  at  this  moment,  this  most  serious 
moment,  if  I  did  not  tell  you  the  whole  truth.  I  consider 
that  this  affair  has  not  sufficient  reason,  and  does  not  warrant 
the  shedding  of  blood.  —  You  were  in  the  wrong,  absolutely, 
you  were  in  a  passion. 

"  Oh  yes,  it  was  horribly  foolish,"  said  Pierre. 

"  Then  allow  me  to  offer  your  regrets,  and  I  am  sure  that 
your  op]X)nent  will  be  satisfied  to  accept  your  apologies,"  said 
Nesvitsky,  who  like  the  other  participants,  and  like  all  men 
in  similar .  affairs,  did  not  believe  even  now  that  it  would 
actually  come  to  a  duel.  —  "  You  know  count,  that  it  is  far 
more  noble  to  acknowledge  one's  fault,  than  to  carry  an  affair 
to  its  irrevocable  consequences.  The  insult  was  not  wholly 
on  one  side.     Let  me  confer." 

"No!  there's  nothing  to  be  said  about  it,"  said  Pierre. 
"  It's  all  the  same  to  me.  —  Is  everything  ready  ?  "  he  asked. 
"  Do  you  only  tell  me  where  I  am  to  stand)  and  where  to  fire," 
he  added,  with  an  unnaturally  sweet  smile.  He  took  the  pia- 
tol,  began  to  ask  about  the  working  of  the  trigger,  for  he  had 
never  before  held  a  pistol  in  his  hands,  though  he  was  unwill- 
ing to  confess  it.  "  Oh  yes,  that's  the  way  —  I  know  —  I  had 
forgotten,"  said  he. 

"  No  apologies,  decidedly  not,"  said  Dolokhof  to  Denisof, 
who  also  on  the  other  side  proposed  to  effect  a  reconciliatioD, 
and  he  also  went  to  the  designated  place. 

The  place  selected  for  the  duel  was  a  small  clearing  in  the 
fir  woods,  covered  with  what  remained  of  the  snow  after  the 
recent  thaw,  and  about  eighty  paces  from  the  road  where  the 
sledges  were  left.  The  opponents  stood  about  forty  paces 
apart  on  the  border  of  the  clearing.  The  seconds,  while  meaa* 
uring  off  the  distance,  had  trampled  down  the  deep,  wet  snow 
between  the  place  where  they  stood  and  Nesvitsky's  and 
Denisof's  sabres,  stuck  upright  ten  paces  apart,  to  mark  the 


WAH  AND  PkACe.  25 

bounds.  It  was  thawing,  and  the  mist  spread  around ;  noth- 
ing could  be  seen  forty  paces  away.  For  three  minutes,  all 
had  been  ready,  and  still  they  hesitated  about  beginning ;  no 
one  spoke. 

CHAPTER  V. 

"Well,  begin,"  said  Dolokhof. 

"  All  right,"  said  Pierre,  still  smiling  as  before. 

It  was  a  solemn  moment.  *  It  was  evident  that  the  affair, 
which  at  first  had  been  so  trivial,  could  no  longer  be  averted, 
but  was  now  bound  to  take  its  course  to  the  very  end,  irre- 
spective of  the  will  of  the  men.  Denisof  first  went  forward 
to  the  barrier,  and  announced :  — 

"As  the  adve^sa'wies  have  wefused  to  agwee,  we  may  pwo- 
ceed.  Take  your  pistols,  and  at  the  word  thwee,  advance  and 
fire." 

«  U — one  !  —  two !  —  thwee  ! "  cried  Denisof  sternly,  and 
stepped  to  one  side.  The  two  men  advanced  along  the  trod- 
den path,  coming  closer  and  closer,  their  faces  growing  more 
and  more  distinct  to  each  other  in  the  fog.  The  antagonists 
had  the  right  to  fire  at  any  moment  before  reaching  the  bar- 
rier. Dolokhof  advanced  slowly,  not  raising  his  pistol,  but 
fastening  his  bright,  glittering  blue  eyes  on  his  opponent's 
face.     His  lips  as  usu^  wore  what  seemed  like  a  smile. 

"  So  it  seems  I  .can  fire  when  I  please,"  said  Pierre  to  him- 
self, and  at  the  word  "  three,"  he  advanced  with  quick  strides, 
leaving  the  beaten  path,  and  pushing  through  the  untrodden 
snow.  He  held  the  pistol  in  his  right  hand  out  at  arm.s 
length,  apparently  afraid  of  killing  himself  with  it.  His  left 
hand  he  strenuously  kept  behind  his  back,  because  he  felt 
such  a  strong  desire  to  support  his  right  arm  with  it,  which 
he  knew  was  out  of  the  question. 

It  was  after  he  had  gone  six  steps,  that  he  left  the  trodden 
path :  he  looked  down  at  his  feet,  then  gave  a  quick  glance  [it 
Dolokhof,  and  pulling  the  trigger,  as  he  had  been  told  to  do, 
he  fired.  Not  anticipating  such  a  loud  report,  Pierre  jumped 
and  then  smiling  at  his  own  sensations,  stood  stock  still. 
The  smoke,  made  heavier  by  the  misty  atmosphere,  prevented 
him  from  seeing  anything  at  first ;  but  there  was  no  second 
report  as  he  had  expected.  All  he  could  hear  was  Dolokhof  s 
hasty  steps,  and  then  his  form  loomed  up  through  the  smoke. 
He  was  holding  one  hand  to  his  left  side  ;  with  the  other  he 
clutched  the  pistol,  which  he  did  not  raise.     His  face  was 


26  WAk  AND  PS  ACE. 

pale.     Eostof  had  rushed  up  to  him,  and  was  saying  som^ 
thing. 

"  N  —  no,"  hissed  Dolokhof  through  his  teeth,  "  No,  Fm  not 
done  yet,"  and  making  a  few  tottering,  staggering  steps 
toward  the  sabre,  he  fell  on  the  snow,  near  it.  His  left  arm 
was  covered  with  blood.  He  wiped  it  on  his  coat  and  sup- 
ported himself  with  it.  His  face  was  pale  and  contracted, 
and  a  spasm  passed  over  it. 

"  I  beg  of  you  "  —  began  Dolokhof,  but  he  could  not  speak 
coherently.     "  Please  "  —  said 'he  with  difficulty. 

Pierre,  hardly  restraining  his  sobs,  started  to  run  to  Dolo- 
khof and  was  just  crossing  the  line,  when  Dolokhof  cried,  '^Stop 
at  the  barrier  " ;  and  Pierre,  realizing  what  he  meant,  paused 
near  the  sabre.  They  were  only  ten  paces  apart.  Dolokhof 
bent  his  head  over  to  the  snow,  greedily  ate  a  mouthful,  lifted 
his  head  again,  straightened  himself  up,  tried  to  get  to  his 
feet,  and  sat  down,  in  his  effort  to  recover  his  equilibrium. 
He  swallowed  the  icy  snow  and  sucked  it ;  his  lips  twitched ; 
but  he  still  smiled,  and  his  eyes  gleamed  with  concentrated 
hatred,  as  he  tried  to  collect  his  failing  strength.  He  raised 
the  pistol  and  tried  to  aim. 

"  Stand  sidewise ;  protect  yourself  from  the  pistol,"  cried 
Nesvitsky. 

"  Pwotect  yourself,"  instinctively  cried  Denisof ,  though  he 
was  the  other's  second. 

Pierre,  with  his  sweet  smile  of  compassion  and  regret,  help- 
lessly dropping  his  arms  and  spreading  his  legs,  stood  widi 
his  broad  chest  exposed  directly  to  Dolokhof,  and  looking  at 
him  mournfully.  Denisof,  Rostof,  and  Nesvitsky  shut  their 
eyes. 

They  heard  the  report,  and  simultaneously  Dolokhof  s  wrath- 
ful cry, — 

"  Missed !  "  cried  Dolokhof,  and  lay  back  feebly  on  the  snow, 
face  down.  Pierre  clutched  his  temples,  and  turning  back,  went 
into  the  woods,  trampling  down  the  virgin  snow  and  muttering 
incoherent  words,  — 

**  Folly  I  Folly !  Death  !  Lies  " —  he  kept  repeating,  with 
scowling  brows.  Nesvitsky  called  him  back  and  took  him 
lionje. 

Eostof  and  Denisof  lifted  the  wounded  Dolokhof.  They 
l)ut  him  in  the  sledge,  where  he  lay  with  closed  eyes  and  with" 
out  speaking,  or  making  any  reply  to  their  questions;  bu4| 
when  they  reached  Moscow,  he  suddenly  roused  himself,  an< 
with  difficulty  raising  his  head,  seized  Rostofs  hand,  who  ws 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  27 

sitting  next  him.  Bostof  was  struck  by  the  absolutely  changed 
and  unexpectedly  softened  expression  of  Dolokhof's  face. 

«  Well  ?     How  do  you  feel  now  ?  "  asked  Rostof . 

"Wretchedly  ;  but  that  is  no  matter.  My  dear,"  said  Dol- 
okhof  in  a  broken  voice,  "  where  are  we  ?  We  are  in  Moscow, 
I  know  it  It's  no  matter  about  me,  but  I  have  killed  her, 
killed  her ;  she  won^t  get  over  this.     She  won't  survive." 

«  Who  ? ''  asked  Rostof. 

"  My  mother.  My  mother,  my  good  angel,  my  adored  angel, 
my  mother,"  and  Dolokhof  burst  into  tears,  pressing  Rostof's 
huid.  When  he  had  grown  a  little  calmer,  he  explained  to 
Bostof  that  he  lived  with  his  mother,  that  if  his  mother  should 
see  him  dying  she  would  not  survive  it.  He  begged  Rostof  to 
go  and  break  the  news  to  her. 

Bostof  rode  on  ahead  to  attend  to  this,  and  to  his  great  sur- 
prise discovered  that  Dolokhof,  this  insolent  fellow,  this  bully, 
Dolokhof,  lived  with  his  old  mother  and  a  hunchbacked  sister, 
and  was  a  most  affectionate  son  and  brother. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

PiERBB  had  rarely  of  late  seen  his  wife  alone  by  themselves. 
Both  in  Petersburg  and  Moscow,  their  house  was  constantly 
fall  of  company. 

On  the  night  that  followed  the  duel,  he  did  not  go  to  his 
sleeping-room,but,  as  was  often  the  case,  stayed  in  the  vast 
cabinet  where  his  fatM^,  the  Count  Bezhukhoi,  had  died. 

He  stretched  himself  out  on  the  sofa,  with  the  idea  of  for- 
getting all  that  had  taken  place  ;  but  this  he  couldn't  do.  Such 
a  tornado  of  thoughts,  feelings,  recollections,  suddenly  arose  in 
bis  mind,  that  not  only  he  could  not  sleep,  but  could  not  keep 
still,  and  he  was  compelled  to  spring  up  from  the  sofa  and 
Talk  the  room  with  rapid  strides. 

Now  she  seemed  to  come  up  before  him  as  she  was  during 
the  first  weeks  after  their  marriage,  with  her  bare  shoulders, 
and  her  languid,  passionate  eyes ;  and  then  immediately  he 
would  see  Dolokhof  by  her  side  —  Dolokhof,  with  his  handsome, 
impudent,  mocking  face,  as  he  had  seen  it  at  the  banquet,  and 
then  the  same  face,  pale,  convulsed,  and  agonized,  as  it  had 
been  when  he  reeled  and  fell  on  the  snow. 

"What  was  it?"  he  asked  himself.  "I  have  killed  her 
pnramour  !  yes,  I  have  killed  my  wife's  paramour.  Yes,  that 
was  it    Why  ?    How  did  it  come  to  this  ?  " 


28  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

"  Because  you  married  her,"  replied  an  inward  voice,  - 

"  But  wherein  was  I  to  blame  ?"  he  asked  again. 

"  Because  you  married  her  without  loving  her ;  because  you 
deceived  yourself  and  her." 

And  then  he  vividly  recalled  the  moment  after  the  dinner  at 
Prince  Vasili's,  when  he  had  murmured  those  words,  "e/e  ww 
aime  —  I  love  you,"  that  had  come  with  so  much  difficulty. 

"  It  was  all  from  that.  Even  then  I  felt,"  said  he  to  him- 
self, "  even  then  I  felt  that  this  was  wrong,  that  I  had  no  right 
to  do  it,  and  so  it  has  proved." 

He  recalled  their  honeymoon,  and  reddened  at  the  recollec- 
tion. Extraordinary  vivid,  humiliating,  and  shameful  was  the 
recollection  of  how  one  time,  shortly  after  their  marriage,  he 
had  gone  in  his  silk  dressing  gown,  at  twelve  o'clock  in  the 
daytime,  from  his  sleeping-room  to  his  library,  and  found  there 
his  head  overseer,  who,  with  an  obsequious  bow,  glanced  at 
Pierre's  face  and  at  his  dressing  gown,  while  a  shadow  of  a 
smile  passed  over  his  face,  as  though  he  thereby  expressed 
his  humble  sympathy  in  the  happiness  of  his  master. 

"  And  yet  how  many  times  I  have  been  proud  of  her, —  proud 
of  her  majestic  beauty,  of  her  social  tact,"  he  went  on  think- 
ing, —  "  proud  of  my  house,  where  she  received  all  Petersburg, 
—  proud  of  her  inaccessibility  and  radiance.  Yes,  how  proud 
I  was  of  it  all !  then  I  thought  that  I  did  not  understand  her. 
How  often,  when  pondering  over  her  character,  I  said  to  my- 
self that  I  was  to  blame,  that  I  did  not  understand  her,  did 
not  understand  her  habitual  repose,  self-satisfaction,  and  lack 
of  all  interests  and  ambition,  and  now  I#ave  found  the  answer 
in  that  terrible  expression  :  she  is  a  lewd  woman.  Now  I  have 
said  to  myself  that  terrible  word,  all  has  become  clear ! 

**  Anatol  came  to  her  to  borrow  some  money,  and  kissed  her 
on  her  naked  shoulder.  She  did  not  let  him  have  the  money, 
but  she  was  willing  for  him  to  kiss  her.  Her  father,  in  joke, 
tried  to  make  her  jealous,  and  she,  with  her  calm  smile  replied 
that  she  was  not  so  stupid  as  to  be  jealous  :  ''Let  him  do  as 
he  pleases,"  said  she  about  me.  I  asked  her  once  if  she  saw 
no  signs  of  approaching  maternity.  She  laughed  scornfully, 
and  replied  that  she  was  not  such  a  fool  as  to  wish  to  have 
any  children,  and  that  T  should  never  get  any  children  by  her." 

Then,  he  recalled  the  coarseness  and  frantness  of-  her 
thoughts,  the  vulgarity  of  the  expressions  that  came  natural 
to  her,  in  spite  of  her  education  in  the  highest  aristocratic 
circles.  "  I  am  no  such  fool,"  "  Go  and  try  it  on  yourself," 
"  Allez  vous  j)rome7ier/'  and  such  like  slang  she  was  fond  of 
using. 


WAR  AND  PEACE. 


29 


Pierre,  witnessing  her  success  in  the  eyes  of  old  and  young, 
men  and  women,  had  often  found  it  hard  to  understand  why 
he  did  not  love  her.  "  Yes,  and  I  have  never  really  loved 
her,"  said  Pierre  to  himself.  "  I  knew  that  she  was  a  lewd 
iroman,"  he  kept  repeating  to  himself, ''  but  I  did  not  dare  to 
aeknowledge  it  to  myself.  And  now  there  is  Dolokhof  sitting 
on  the  snow,  and  trying  to  smile,  and  dying  maybe,  and  answer- 
ing my  repentance  with  pretended  bravado  ! " 

Pierre  was  one  of  those  men,  who,  notwithstanding  his  affec- 
tionate nature,  which  some  would  call  weakness  of  character, 
would  never  seek  a  confidant  for  his  troubles.  He  worked  out 
his  sufferings  alone  by  himself. 

"  She  is  to  blame,  the  only  one  to  blame  for  all,"  said  he  to 
himself.  "But  what  was  back  of  that  ?  That  I  married  her, 
that  I  said  to  her,  *Je  voiis  aif/ie/  which  was  a  lie,  and  even 
worse  than  a  lie,"  said  he  to  himself.  "  I  am  to  blame  and 
iaust  suffer.  What  ?  The  besmirching  of  my  name  ?  the  un- 
happiness  of  my  life  ?  eh !  that's  all  nonsense,"  he  continued, 
*^the  disgrace  to  my  name  and  honor^  all  that  is  conditional, 
absolutely  independent  of  me. 

^  Louis  XVI.  was  executed  because  the}/  said  that  he  was  a 
guilty  offender,"  thus  Pierre  reasoned,  "  and  they  were  right 
from  their  point  of  view,  just  as  they  also  were  right  from 
theirs  who  died  a  violent  death  after  him,  and  who  reckoned 
him  among  the  saints.  Then  Robespierre  was  beheaded  be- 
cause he  was  a  tyrant.  Who  was  right  ?  who  was  to  blame  ? 
No  one !  But  live  while  we  live  :  to-morrow  we  die,  just  as  I 
might  easily  have  died  an  hour  ago.  And  is  it  worth  torment- 
ing one's  self  about,  when  life  counts  only  as  a  moment  in 
comparison  with  eternity  ?  " 

But  even  while  he  was  trying  to  reason  himself  into  calm- 
ness by  such  a  train  of  thought,  suddenly  she  again  rose  be- 
fore his  imagination,  and  at  one  of  those  moments  when  he 
had  expressed  to  her  more  violently  than  ever  his  insincere 
love  and  he  felt  how  the  blood  poured  back  to  his  heart, 
and  he  was  obliged  again  to  get  up,  move  about,  and  break  and 
smash  whatever  things  c<ame  withm  reach  of  his  hands. 

"Why  did  I  tell  her  that  I  loved  her?  why  did  I  say  ^je 

«w«  aime  ? ' "  he  kept  asking  himself.     And  after  he  had 

'  asked  himself  this  question  a  dozen  times,  the  phrase  of  Moli- 

«re  came  into  his  head,  "  Mais  que  diahle  alia  it  it  faire  dans 

\,  (ette  galercy*'  *  and  he  had  to  laugh  at  himself. 

It  w^  night,  but  he  summoned  his  valet  and  ordered  him 

*  '*  What  busineaB  ba<l  he  there." 


80  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

to  pack  up  in  readiness  to  go  to  Petersburg.  He  could  not 
imagine  himself  having  anything  more  to  say  to  her.  He  had 
decided  to  take  an  early  departure  the  next  day,  leaving  her  a 
letter  in  which  he  should  explain  his  intention  of  living  apart 
from  her  for  evermore. 

The  next  morning,  when  the  valet,  bringing  him  bis  coffee, 
came  into  the  cabinet,  Pierre  was  lying  on  an  ottoman  asleep, 
with  an  open  book  in  his  hand. 

He  aroused  himself,  and  looked  around  for  some  time  with 
a  startled  expression,  wholly  unable  to  understand  where  he 
was. 

^^  The  countess  commanded  to  ask  if  your  illustriousness 
were  at  home  ?  "  said  the  valet. 

But  before  Pierre  had  time  to  decide  what  answer  to  give, 
the  countess  herself,  in  a  morning  gown  of  white  satin  em> 
broidered  in  silver,  and  with  her  hair  dressed  in  the  simplest 
style  —  two  enormously  long  braids  wound  twice,  en  diademey 
around  her  graceful  head  —  came  into  the  room  calmly  and 
majestically  ;  only  on  her  marble  forehead,  which  was  a  little 
too  prominent,  there  was  a  deep  frown  of  fury.  With  thor- 
oughly masterful  self-restraint,  she  did  not  say  a  word  in  the 
valet's  presence.  8he  had  heard  of  the  duel,  and  had  come  to 
speak  about  it.  She  waited  until  the  valet  had  set  down  the 
coffee  and  left  the  room.  Pierre  looked  at  her  timidly  over 
his  spectacles,  and  like  a  hare  surrounded  by  dogs,  which  lays 
back  its  ears  and  crouches  motionless  before  its  enemies,  so 
he  also  pretended  to  take  up  his  reading  again ;  but  he  was 
conscious  that  this  was  a  senseless  and  impossible  thing  to  do, 
and  again  he  looked  at  her.  She  did  not  sit  down,  but  with  a 
scornful  smile  stared  at  him,  waiting  until  the  valet  should  be 
out  of  the  room. 

"  Well,  now  what's  this  latest  ?  What  have  you  been  doing  ? 
I  demand  an  answer ! "  said  she,  sternly. 

"I  —  what  have  I  —  ?  "  stammered  Pierre. 

"  Playing  the  bravado,  hey  ?  Come  now,  answer  me ;  what 
about  this  duel  ?  What  did  you  mean  to  imply  by  it  ?  What? 
I  demand  an  answer  !  " 

Pierre  turned  heavily  on  the  sofa,  opened  his  mouth,  bat 
could  not  make  a  sound. 

"  If  you  won't  answer,  then  I  will  tell  you,"  continued  Ellen. 
"  You  believe  everything  that  is  told  you :  you  were  told," 
Ellen  laughed,  '^  that  Dolokhof  was  my  paramour,"  said  she  in 
French,  with  her  uncompromising  explicit  manner  of  speech, 
pronouncing  the  word  aniantf  like  any  other  word,     "  And  you 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  81 

believed  it !  And  what  have  you  proved  by  it  ?  What  have  you 
proved  by  this  duel  ?  That  you  are  a  fool,  a  durak,  that 
you  are  un  sot !  And  that's  what  every  one  calls  you !  What 
will  be  the  result  of  it  ?  This  !  —  that  you  have  made  me  the 
laughing  stock  of  all  Moscow ;  this !  that  every  one  will  say 
that  you,  while  in  a  drunken  fit,  and  not  knowing  what  you 
were  about,  challenged  a  man  of  whom  you  were  jealous  with- 
out any  reason" — Ellen  kept  raising  her  voice  and  growing 
more  and  more  excited,  —  "a  man  superior  to  you  in  every 
sense  of  the  word  "  — 

"Hm  — hm,"  bellowed  Pierre,  scowling,  but  not  looking  at 
her  or  stirring. 

"  And  why  did  you  believe  that  he  was  my  paramour  ?  Why 
was  it  ?  Because  I  liked  his  society !  If  you  had  been  brighter 
and  more  agreeable,  I  should  have  preferred  yours." 

"Do  not  speak  to  me,  I  beg  of  you,"  whispered  Pierre, 
hoarsely. 

"  Why  shouldn't  I  speak  to  you.  I  have  a  right  to  speak, 
and  I  tell  you  up  and  down  that  it's  rare  to  find  a  woman  with 
a  husband  like  you,  who  doesn't  console  herself  with  lovers,* 
and  that  is  a  thing  that  I  haven't  done,"  said  she. 
l  Pierre  started  to  say  something,  looked  at  her  with  strange 
I  eyes,  the  expression  of  which  she  could  not  understand,  and 
[  again  threw  himself  back.  At  that  moment,  he  was  suffering 
physical  pain :  his  chest  was  oppressed,  and  he  could  not 
breathe.  He  knew  that  it  behooved  him  to  do  something  to 
put  an  end  to  his  torment,  but  what  he  wanted  to  do  was  too 
horrible. 

"  We  had  better  part,"  he  exclaimed  in  a  broken  voice. 

"  By  all  means,  part,  provided  only  you  give  me  enough," 
said  Ellen.    "  Part !  That's  nothing  to  scare  one  ! " 

Pierre  sprang  from  the  sofa,  and  staggered  toward  her. 

"  I  will  kill  you  !  "  he  cried,  and  seizing  from  the  table  a 
marble  slab,  with  a  force  such  as  he  had  never  before  possessed, 
rushed  toward  her  brandishing  it  in  the  air. 

Ellen's  face'  was  filled  with  horror  :  she  screamed  and  sprang 
awaj  from  him.  His  father's  nature  suddenly  became  mani- 
fest in  him.  Pierre  experienced  the  rapture  and  fascination 
of  frenzy.  He  flung  down  the  marble,  breaking  it  in  frag- 
ments, and  with  raised  arms  flew  at  her,  crying :  "  Away !  " 
with  such  a  terrible  voice  that  it  rang  through  the  whole 
booae  and  filled  every  one  with  horror.      God  knows  what 


*  "  i>e#  amaikU.^^ 


I 


82  WAR   AND  PEACE. 

Pierre  would  have  done  at  that  moment  if  Ellen  had  not  es- 
caped from  the  room. 

At  the  end, of  a  week,  Pierre  had  given  to  his  wife  a  power 
of  attorney  for  the  control  of  all  his  Great  Russian  possessioiiS; 
which  amounted  to  the  larger  half  of  his  property,  and  re- 
turned alone  to  Petersburg. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

Two  months  had  elapsed  since  news  of  the  battle  of  Auster- 
litz  and  the  death  of  Prince  Andrei    had  been  received  at 
Lnisiya  Gorui,  and  in  spite  of  all  the  letters  sent  through  the 
diplomatic  service,  and  all  inquiries,  his  body  had  not  been  re-  ; 
covered,  and  his  name  was  not  on  the  lists  of  prisoners.    Worse 
than  all  for  his  relatives  was  the  very  hope  that  still  remained 
that  he  had  been  picked  up  on  the  battle-field  by  some  of  the 
natives,  and  might  be  even  now  convalescing  or  dying  some- : 
where  alone,  among  strangers,  and  unable  to  send  them  any  ! 
word.  I 

In  the  newspapers  from  which  the  old  prince  had  firsfc  I 
learned  of  the  battle  of  Austerlitz,  it  was  stated,  as  usual,  in  ' 
the  briefest  and  vaguest  terms,  that  the  Russians,  after  bril- 1 
liant  deeds  of  arms,  had  been  compelled  to  retreat,  and  had 
accomplished  this  with  the  greatest  order  possible. 

The  old  prince  understood  from  this  official  bulletin,  thai 
our  troops  had  been  defeated.  A  week  after  the  receipt  of 
the  newspapers  which  informed  him  of  the  battle  of  Auste^ 
litz,  a  letter  came  from  Kutuzof,  who  announced  the  fate 
that  had  befallen  his  son. 

"Your  son,"  wrote  Kutuzof,  "before  my  eyes,  fell  at  the' 
head  of  his  regiment,  with  the  standard  in  his  hands,  like  a 
hero  worthy  of  his  father  and  his  fatherland.  To  the  universal 
regret  of  all  the  army,  including  myself,  it  is  as  yet  uncertain 
whether  he  is  alive  or  dead.  I  flatter  myself  with  the  hope 
that  your  son  is  still  alive,  for,  in  the  contrary  case,  he  woiud 
certainly  have  been  mentioned  among  the  officers  found  on  the 
field  of  battle,  the  list  of  which  was  brought  me  under  flag  of 
truce." 

Receiving  this  news  late  in  the  afternoon  when  he  was  alone 
in  his  cabinet,  the  old  prince  as  usual  went  the  next  day  to 
take  his  morning  promenade,  but  he  had  nothing  to  say  to  the 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  83 

OTerseer,  the  gardener,  or  the  architect,  and  though  his  coun- 
tenance was  lowering,  there  was  no  outbreak  of  wrath. 

When,  at  the  accustomed  time,  the  Princess  Marina  went 
to  him,  he  was  standing  at  his  bench  and  driving  his  lathe, 
bnt  he  did  not  glance  up  at  her  as  usual  when  she  entered  the 
room. 

''  Ah !  Princess  Mariya,"  suddenly  said  he  in  an  unnatural 
tone  and  threw  down  his  chisel.  The  wheel  continued  to  re- 
volve from  the  impetus.  The  Princess  Mariya  long  remembered 
this  dying  whir  of  the  wheel,  which  was  associated  for  her  with 
what  followed.  The  Princess  Mariya  approached  him,  looked 
into  his  face,  and  suddenly  something  seemed  to  pull  at  her 
heartstrings.  Her  eyes  ceased  to  see  clearly.  By  her  father's 
face,  which  was  not  melancholy  or  downcast,  but  wrathful  and 
working  unnaturally,  she  saw  that  now,  now  some  terrible  mis- 
fortune was  threatening  to  overwhelm  her,  a  misfortune  than 
which  none  is  worse  in  life,  none  more  irreparable  and  incom- 
prehensible, a  misfortune  such  as  she  had  never  yet  experi- 
enced,—  the  death  of  one  she  loved. 

"  Man  p^e  /  Andre  ! "  said  the  princess,  and  she  who  was 
ardinarily  so  clumsy  and  awkward  became  endowed  with  such 
inexpressible  charm  of  grief  and  self-forgetfulness  that  her 
fiather  could  not  endure  her  glance,  and,  with  a  sob,  turned 
away. 

"  I  have  had  news.  He's  not  among  the  prisoners,  he's  not 
on  the  list  of  the  dead.  Kutuzof  has  written  me,"  he  cried  in  a 
shrill  voice,  as  though  wishing  by  this  cry  to  drive  the  prin- 
cess away.    "  He  is  killed  ! " 

The  princess  did  not  fall ;  she  did  not  even  feel  faint.  She 
was  pale  to  begin  with,  but  when  she  heard  these  words  her 
face  altered  and  a  light  seemed  to  gleam  in  her  beautiful,  lus- 
trous eyes.  Something  like  joy,  a  supei-natural  joy,  indepen- 
dent of  the  sorrows  and  joys  of  this  world,  was  breathed  above 
this  violent  grief  that  fiHed  her  heart.  She  forgot  all  her  fear 
of  her  father,  and  went  up  to  him,  took  him  by  the  hand,  and 
drew  him  to  her,  and  threw  her  irm  around  his  thin,  sinewy 
neck.  • 

"  Man  pere  f  "  said  she,  "  do  not  turn  away  from  me ;  let  us 
weep  together ! " 

"Villains!  scoundrels!"  cried  the  old  man,  averting  his 
face  from  her.  "  To  destroy  the  army,  to  waste  men's  lives  in 
that  way !  What  for  ?     Go,  go  and  tell  Liza." 

The  princess  fell  back  feebly  in  the  arm-chair  near  her  father, 
and  burst  into  tears.  She  could  now  see  her  brother  as  he  looked 
VOL.2.— 3. 


34  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

Sit  the  moment  when  he  bade  her  and  Liza  farewell,  with  bis 
affectionate  and  at  the  same  time  rather  haughty  face.  She 
could  see  him  as  he  tenderly  and  yet  scornfully  hung  the 
medallion  round  his  neck.  Did  he  come  to  believe  ?  Had  he 
repented  of  his  unbelief  ?  Was  he  yonder  now,  yonder  in  the 
mansions  of  eternal  calm  and  bliss  ?  These  were  the  questions 
tliat  filled  her  thoughts. 

^^Monp^re,  tell  me  how  it  happened?"  said  she,  through 
her  tears. 

"  Go,  go  ;  he  was  killed  in  that  defeat  where  the  best  men 
of  Eussia  and  Russian  glory  were  led  out  to  sacrifice.  Go, 
Princess  Mai-iya.     Go  and  tell  Liza.     I  will  follow." 

When  the  Princess  Mariya  left  her  father,  she  found  the  lit- 
tle princess  sitting  at  her  work,  with  that  expression  of  in- 
ward calm  and  happiness  peculiar  to  women  in  her  condition. 
She  looked  up  as  her  sister-in-law  came  in.  It  was  en- 
dent  that  her  eyes  did  not  see  the  Princess  Mariya,  but  were 
rather  profoundly  searching  into  the  tremendous  and  blessed 
mystery  that  was  taking  place  within  her. 

"  Marie,"  said  she,  turning  from  her  embroidery  frame,  and 
leaning  back,  "  let  me  have  your  hand." 

She  took  the  princess's  hand  and  laid  it  just  below  her 
heart.  Her  eyes  smiled  with  anticipation,  the  little,  downy 
lip  was  raised  in  a  happy,  childlike  smile. 

The  Princess  Mariya  knelt  down  before  her,  and  buried  her 
face  in  the  folds  of  her  sister-in-law's  dress. 

"  There  I  there,  do  you  perceive  it  ?  It  is  so  strange.  And 
do  you  know,  Marie,  I  am  going  to  love  him  very  dearly," 
said  Liza,  looking  with  shining  happy  eyes  at  her  husband^s 
sister. 

The  Princess  Mariya  could  not  raise  her  head :  she  was 
weeping. 

"  What  is  the  matter,  Masha  ?  " 

"  Nothing ;  only  I  felt  sad  j  sad  about  Andrei,"  she  repUed, 
wiping  away  her  tears  on  her  sister-in-law's  knee. 

Several  times  in  the  course  of  the  morning,  the  Prinoesi 
Mariya  attempted  to  break  the  news  to  hei*  sister-in-law,  and 
each  time  she  had  to  weep.  These  tears,  the  cause  for  whidi 
the  little  princess  could  not  understand,  alarmed  her,  unobsei*' 
vant  as  her  nature  was.  She  made  no  remark,  but  she  looked 
around  in  some  alarm,  as  if  searching  for  some  one.  Before 
dinner  the  old  prince  came  into  her  room  and  went  right  oat 
again  without  saying  a  word ;  she  was  always  afraid  of  hijn, 
but  now  his  face  was  so  disturbed  and  stern  that  she  gazed  at 


I  WAR  AND  PEACE.  35 

the  Princess  Mariya,  then  fell  into  a  brown  study,  with  her 
ejes  as  it  were,  turned  inward  with  that  expression  so  charac- 
teristic of  women  in  her  condition,  and  suddenly  burst  into 
tears. 
"  Hare  you  heard  anything  from  Andrei  ?  '*  she  asked. 
"No,  you  know  that  it  isn't  time  yet  to  get  news,  but  man 
ptre  is  anxious,  and  it  frightens  me.'* 
"Then  there's  nothing  ?  " 

"Nothing,"  replied  the  Princess  Mariya,  letting  her  lustrous 

'  eyes  rest  unflinchingly  on  her  sister-in-law. 

'     She  had  made  up  her  mind  not  to  tell  her,  and  had  per- 

:  suaded  her  father  to  conceal  the  terrible  tidings  from  her  un- 

^  til  her  confinement,  which  would  be  now  before  many  days. 

i  The  Princess  Mariya  and  the  old  prince,  each  according  to 

I  their  own  nature,  bore  and  hid  their  grief.     The  old  prince 

i  vas  not  willing  to  indulge  in  hopes :  he  had  made  up  his 

i  mind  that  Prince  Andrei  was  killed,  and  although  he  sent  a 

I  chinovnik  to  Austria  to  make  diligent  search  for  traces  of  his 

son,  he  commanded  him  to  order  in  Moscow  a  gravestone  to 

he  erected  in  his  garden,  and  he  told  every  one  that  his  son 

was  dead.    He  himself  aged  rapidly ;  he  unchangeably  carried 

.  out  the  rigorous  routine  of  his  life,  but  his  strength  failed 

him :  he  took  shorter  walks,  ate  less,  slept  less,  and  each  day 

grew  weaker. 

The  Princess  Mariya  still  hoped.  She  prayed  for  her 
brother,  as  though  he  were  alive,  and  all  the  time  was  on  the 
lookout  for  news  of  his  return. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

"  Ma  bonne  amie"  said  the  little  princess,  after  breakfast  on 
the  morning  of  the  thirty-first  of  March,  and  her  downy  upper 
Kp  was  lifted  out  of  mere  habit,  for  a  certain  sense  of  melan- 
choly had  affected  not  only  the  talk,  but  the  footsteps  of  all 
IB  this  house  ever  since  the  receipt  of  the  terrible  news,  so  that 
e?en  the  little  princess  had  come  under  the  influence  of  it, 
tod  she  smiled  in  such  a  way  that  it  reminded  one  even  more 
of  the  general  depression. 

"ifo  bonne  amie,  I  am  afraid  my  frUhsfiick  this  morning,  as 
Aka,  the  cook,  calls  it,  didn't  agree  with  me."  * 

•*  What's  the  matter,  sweetheart  ?  You  are  pale?  Akh!  you 
tte  very,  very  pale,"  said  the  Princess  Mariya  alarmed,  and 

*  Je  craifu  que  le  fruschtiqxte  de  ce  matin  ne  m*aie  pcu/ait  du  mai. 


36  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

going  toward  her  sister-in-law  with  her  heavy  but  gentie 
steps. 

"Your  illustriousness,  shan't  we  call  Marya  Bogdanovna?" 
inquired  one  of  the  maids,  who  happened  to  be  present 
(Marya  Bogdanovna  was  the  midwife  from  the  shire  town, 
who  had  now  been  living  at  Luisiya  Gorui  for  a  fortnight) 

"  It  certainly  may  be  necessai-y,"  replied  the  Princess  Ma- 
riya.  "  I  will  go.  Courage,  mon  ange  !  "  she  kissed  Liza  and 
started  to  leave  the  room. 

"  Ah,  no,  no  !  " 

And  over  and  above  the  pallor  arising  from  physical  suffer- 
ing, the  little  princess's  face  showed  a  childish  fear  of  unen- 
durable agony. 

"  iVbn,  c^est  Vestomac  —  dites  que  <^est  Vestomac.  dites,  Mar'Uy 
dites/^  and  the  princess  wept,  childishly,  capriciously,  and  per- 
haps rather  hypocritically,  wringing  her  hands.  The  young 
princess  went  from  the  room  in  search  of  Marya  Bogdanovna 

^'  Mo7i  Dieu  /    Mon  Dieu  /    Oh !  "  was  heard  behind  her. 

Rubbing  her  plump,  small,  white  hands,  the  midwife  came 
to  meet  her,  with  a  significant  but  perfectly  composed  expres- 
sion of  countenance. 

"  Marya  Bogdanovna !  I  think  it  is  beginning,"  said  the 
Princess  Mariya,  looking  at  the  midwife,  with  terrified,  wide- 
open  eyes. 

"  Well,  then,  glory  to  God  for  that,  princess,"  said  Maiya 
Bogdanovna,  not  quickening  her  steps.  "You  young  ladies 
have  no  need  to  know  anything  about  it." 

"  But  what  shall  we  do  if  the  doctor  from  Moscow  has  not 
come  yet  ?  "  asked  the  princess.  By  Liza  and  Prince  Andrei's 
desire  they  had  sent  to  Moscow  for  an  accoucheur^  and  he  was 
expected  at  any  moment. 

"  No  matter,  princess,  don't  be  alarmed,"  said  Marya  Bog- 
danovna, "  it  will  come  out  all  right  even  without  a  doctor." 

In  the  course  of  five  minutes  the  young  princess  heard  as 
she  sat  in  her  room,  the  sound  of  men  carrying  something 
heavy.  She  looked  out  and  saw  the  servants  for  some  reason 
or  other,  carrying  into  the  slee^nng  room,  the  leather  divan 
which  had  always  stood  in  Prince  Andrei's  study.  There  was 
an  expression  of  gentleness  and  solemnity  on  the  faces  of  the 
men  who  were  lugging  this. 

The  Princess  Marya  sat  alone  in  her  room  listening  to  the 
various  sounds  in  the  house,  and  occasionally  opening  the  door 
when  any  one  passed,  and  trying  to  make  out  what  was  going 
on  in  the  corridor.     A  number  of  women  with  light  steps  were 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  37 

moving  hither  and  thither,  and  they  gave  a  glance  at  the 
joung  princess  and  turned  away.  She  did  not  venture  to  ask 
any  questions,  but  shut  her  door,  went  back  to  her  own  bed- 
room, sat  down  for  a  little  in  her  arm-chair,  then  hastened  to 
her  oratoiy,  and  bent  on  her  knees  before  the  kiot  or  shrine  of 
images.  To  her  dismay  and  surprise,  she  found  that  prayer 
did  not  aid  her  in  calming  her  agitation. 

Suddenly  the  door  of  her  room  was  softly  opened,  and  on  the 
threshold  appeared  her  old  nurse  Praskovya  Savishna,  with  a 
kerchief  tied  over  her  head;  it  was  almost  never  that  she 
came  to  the  princess's  room,  as  her  father  had  expressly  for- 
bidden it. 

"  God  be  with  you,  Mashenka,  I  have  come  to  sit  a  little 
while,"  said  the  nurse ;  "  and  here  are  the  prince's  wedding 
tapers  I've  brought  to  light  before  the  saint,  my  angel,"  she 
added,  with  a  sigh. 

"  Akh  !  how  glad  T  am,  nurse." 
'    "  Grod  is  merciful,  my  dove."  * 

The  old  nurse  lit  the  tapers  in  the  golden  candlesticks 
before  the  shrine,  and  then  sat  down  by  the  door  with  her 
knitting.  The  Princess  Mariya  took  a  book  and  began  to  read. 
Only  when  they  heard  steps  or  voices  the  princess  would 
glance  up  with  frightened  anxious  face,  and  the  nurse  would 
look  at  her  with  a  soothing  expression. 

In  all  parts  of  the  house  every  one  was  dominated  by  the 
same  feelings  which  the  Princess  Mariya  experienced  as  she 
2sA,  in  her  room.  In  accordance  with  the  old  superstition  that 
the  fewer  people  know  of  the  sufferings  of  a  woman  in  labor, 
the  less  she  suffers,  all  pretended  to  be  ignorant  of  what  was 
going  on ;  no  one  spoke  about  it,  but  everybody,  over  and  above 
the  habitual  gravity  and  respectful  propriety  that  obtained  in 
the  prince's  household,  evidently  shared  the  genei-al  anxiety, 
tender-heartedness  and  consciousness  that  something  great, 
incomprehensible  and  solemn  was  taking  j)lace  at  that  hour. 

There  was  no  sound  of  laughing  heard  in  the  great  room 
devoted  to  the  maidservants.  In  the  officialnaya  all  the  men 
sat  silent,  as  if  awaiting  something.  The  servants  kept  pine 
knots  and  candles  burning,  and  did  not  think  of  going  to  sleep. 
The  old  prince,  walking  on  his  heels,  strode  up  and  down  his 
cabinet,  and  at  last  ordered  Tikhon  to  go  to  Marya  Bogdan- 
ovna  —  "  Merely  say,  *  the  prince  has  sent  to  ask,'  and  come 
and  tell  me  what  she  says." 

"Inform  the  prince  that  labor  has  begun,"  said  Marya  Bog- 

•  Oolubka, 


38  ^^^  AND  PEACE. 

danovna,  giving  the  messenger  a  significant  look.  Tikhon 
went  and  reported  to  the  prince. 

"  Very  good,"  exclaimed  the  prince,  closing  the  door  behind 
him,  and  Tikhon  heard  not  the  slightest  sound  in  the  cabinet. 
After  waiting  some  time  Tikhon  went  into  the  cabinet,  pre- 
tending that  it  was  to  snuff  the  candles,  and  seeing  the  prince 
lying  on  the  sofa,  he  looked  at  his  agitated  face,  shook  his 
head,  then  silently  stepping  up  to  him  and  kissing  him  on  the 
shoulder,  he  left  the  room  forgetting  to  snuff  the  candles  and 
not  saying  why  he  had  gone  in. 

The  most  solemn  mystery  in  the  world  was  in  process  of 
consummation.  The  evening  passed;  the  night  wore  away, 
and  the  sense  of  expectancy  and  solemnified  thought  at  the 
presence  of  the  ineffable  grew  in  tenser  rather  than  grew 
weaker,    No  one  slept. 

It  was  one  of  those  nights  in  March  when  winter  seems 
determined  to  resume  his  sway,  and  scatters  with  rage  and 
despair  his  last  snows  and  gusts  of  wind.  A  relay  of  horses 
had  been  sent  along  the  highway  to  meet  the  German  doctor 
from  Moscow,  who  was  every  moment  expected,  and  horsemen 
with  lanterns  were  sent  out  to  the  junction  of  the  cross  road, 
to  guide  him  safely  by  the  pitfalls  and  watery  hollows 

The  Princess  Maryia  had  long  since  laid  down  her  book; 
she  was  sitting  in  perfect  silence,  with  her  lustrous  eyes  fas- 
tened on  her  old  nurse's  wrinkled  face,  every  line  of  which 
she  knew  so  well ;  on  the  little  tuft  of  gray  hair  that  had 
escaped  from  under  her  kerchief,  and  on  the  loose  flesh  hang- 
ing under  her  chin. 

Nyanya  Savishna,  with  her  unfinished  stocking  in  her  hand, 
was  telling  in  a  low  voice,  without  heeding  her  own  words,  the 
story  that  she  had  told  a  hundred  times  about  the  late  prin- 
cess, and  how  she  had  been  delivered  of  the  Princess  Mariya 
in  Kishenef,  with  an  old  Moldavian  peasant  woman  for  a  mid- 
wife. 

"God  is  merciful ;  dokhtors  are  never  needed,"  she  was  say- 
ing. Suddenly  a  gust  of  wind  beat  violently  against  tho 
window  frame  ^it  was  always  a  whim  of  the  princess  to  have 
the  double  winaows  taken  off  from  at  least  one  of  the  win- 
dows in  each  room,  as  soon  as  the  larks  made  their  appear- 
ance) and  burst  the  carelessly  pushed  bolt,  while  a  draught  of 
cold  air  laden  with  snow  shook  the  silken  curtains  and  puffed 
out  the  light.  The  princess  shuddered.  The  old  nyanya, 
laying  down  her  stocking,  went  to  the  window,  and  leaning 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  S9 

out,  tried  to  shut  it  to  again.  The  cold  wind  fluttered  the 
ends,  of  her  kerchief  and  the  gray  locks  o^  her  dishevelled 
hair. 

"  Princess  !  matushka !  some  one's  coming  up  the  preshpekt" 
cried  she,  getting  hold  of  the  window,  but  not  closing  it, 
"With  lanterns !     It  must  be  the  dokhtorf" 

"  Akh  !  Glory  to  God,  Slava  Bohu,"  exclaimed  the  Princess 
Mariya.  "  I  must  go  and  meet  him ;  he  won't  be  able  to 
speak  Eussian." 

The  Princess  Mariya  wrapped  her  shawl  around  her  and 
hastened  down  to  meet  the  visitors.  When  she  reached  the 
anteroom  she  looked  through  the  window  and  saw  a  team  and 
lanterns  standing  at  the  front  doorsteps.  She  went  out  on 
the  landing.  On  the  foot  of  the  balustrade  flamed  a  tallow 
candle,  guttering  in  the  wind.  The  groom  Filipp,  with  terri- 
fied face,  and  with  another  candle  in  his  hand,  stood  lower 
down  on  the  first  landing  of  the  staircase.  Still  lower  down 
at  the  turning  of  the  staircase  were  heard  advancing  footsteps 
in  thick  boots.  And  a  voice  which  struck  the  Princess  Mariya 
as  strangely  familiar,  was  saying  something. 

"Thank  God, —  Slava  Bohu/"  said  the  voice,  "and  my 
father  ?  " 

"  He  has  gone  to  bed,"  replied  the  voice  of  Demyan,  the 
major  domo,  who  had  by  this  time  come  down. 

Then  the  well-known  voice  asked  something,  and  Demyan 
answered,  and  the  steps  in  the  thick  boots  came  swifter  up  the 
stairs  and  nearer  to  the  princess,  out  of  sight  around  the  turn. 

"  It  is  Andrei ! "  said  the  princess  to  herself.  "  No,  it  can- 
not be  !  It  would  be  too  extraordinary, "  she  thought,  and  at 
the  very  moment  that  this  thought  occurred  to  her,  on  the 
landing  where  stood  the  servant  with  the  candle,  appeared 
Prince  Andrei's  form,  enveloped  in  a  fur  shuba,  the  collar  all 
powdered  with  snow. 

Yes,  it  was  he  ;  but  pale  and  thin,  and  with  an  altered  and 
strangely  gentle  but  anxious  expression.  He  ran  up  the  stairs 
and  clasped  his  sister  in  his  arms. 

"You  didn't  receive  my  letter?"  he  asked,  and  not  waiting 
for  her  reply,  which,  indeed,  he  would  not  have  received,  for 
the  princess  was  too  much  moved  to  speak,  he  turned  back, 
and  joined  by  the  accoucheur,  who  had  come  with  him  (he  had 
overtaken  him  at  the  last  post  station),  with  hasty  steps  flew 
up  the  stairs  again,  and  again  embraced  his  sister. 

"What  luck!"  he  cried,  "dear  Masha!"  and  flinging  off 
his  shuba  and  boots,  he  went  to  his  wife's  room. 


40  ^Att  AND  PEACE. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

The  little  princess,  in  a  white  cap,  was  lying  on  the  pillows. 
(¥or  the  moment  she  was  a  little  easier.)  Her  dark  locks  fell  in 
aisorder  over  her  flushed  cheeks,  wet  with  perspiration ;  her 
rosy,  fascinating  mouth,  with  its  downy  upper  lip,  was  open, 
and  she  wore  a  smile  of  joy. 

Prince  Andrei  went  into  the  room  and  paused  in  front  of 
her,  at  the  foot  of  the  sofa  on  which  she  lay.  Her  brilliant 
eyes,  looking  at  him  with  childish  trepidation  and  anxiety, 
rested  on  him  without  change  of  expression. 

"  I  love  you  all ;  I  haven't  done  any  one  any  harm ;  why 
must  I  suffer  so  ?    Help  me  ! "    her  expression  seemed  to  say. 

She  saw  her  husband,  but  seemed  to  have  no  comprehension 
of  the  significance  of  his  appearing  just  at  this  time  before  her. 

Prince  Andrei  went  round  to  the  side  of  the  sofa,  and  kissed 
her  on  the  forehead. 

"  My  darling  heart  —  dushenka  moya^^  he  said.  He  had 
never  called  her  by  this  endearing  term  before.  "  God  is  mer- 
ciful." 

She  looked  at  him  with  a  questioning,  childishly  offended 
expression. 

"  I  expected  help  from  thee,  and  none  comes,  none  comes ! " 
her  eyes  seemed  to  sav.  She  was  not  surprised  at  his  coming ; 
she  did  not  even  realize  that  he  had  come.  His  appearance 
had  nothing  to  do  with  her  agony  and  the  assuagement  of  it. 

The  pains  began  again,  and  Maria  Bogdanovna  advised 
Prince  Andrei  to  leave  the  room.  The  accoucheur  entered  the 
room.  Prince  Andrei  went  out,  and  meeting  his  sister  he 
again  joined  her.  They  began  to  talk  in  a  whisper,  but  the  con- 
versation was  constantly  interrupted  by  silences. 

They  kept  waiting  and  listening. 

"  Allez,  man  ami^'*  said  the  Princess  Mariya.  Prince  An- 
drei again  went  to  his  wife,  and  then  sat  down  in  the  adjoin- 
ing room.  Some  woman  or  other  came  out  of  her  room  with 
a  terrified  face  and  was  confused  when  she  saw  Prince  Andrei. 

He  covered  his  face  with  his  hands  and  sat  thus  for  some 
minutes.  Pitiful,  heartbreaking  groans  were  heard  in  the 
other  room.  Prince  Andrei  stood  up  and  went  to  the  door, 
and  was  about  to  open  it.     Some  one  held  it  to. 

"  You  can't  come  in !  it's  impossible,"  said  a  terrified  voice 
on  the  other  side.     He  began  to  pace  up  and  down  the  room. 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  41 

The  cries  had  ceased ;  a  few  seconds  more  passed,  when  sud- 
denly a  terrible  cry, —  it  could  not  be  his  wife's,  slie  could  not 
ciy  like  that  —  rang  through  the  next  room.  Prince  Andrei 
hastened  to  the  door;  this  cry  ceased;  a  baby's  wailing  was 
heard. 

"  What  have  they  brought  a  baby  in  there  for  ?  "  was  Prince 
Andrei's  query  at  first.  "A  baby?  What  baby?  Why  a 
baby  there  ?  —  Or  can  my  baby  have  been  born  ?  " 

Then  he  suddenly  realized  all  the  joyful  significance  of  this 
C17 :  the  tears  choked  him,  and  leaning  both  his  elbows  on  the 
window-seat,  he  wept  and  sobbed  like  a  child. 

The  door  opened.  The  doctor,  with  his  shirt  sleeves  rolled 
np,  without  his  coat,  pale,  and  with  trembling  jaw,  came  from 
the  room.  Prince  Andrei  went  to  him,  but  the  doctor  looked 
at  him  with  a  strange  expression  of  confusion,  and  without 
saying  a  word  passed  by  him.  A  woman  came  running  out, 
but  when  she  saw  Prince  Andrei,  stopped  short  on  the  thresh- 
hold.     He  went  into  his  wife's  room. 

She  was  dead,  lying  in  the  same  position  in  which  he  had 
seen  her  five  minutes  before,  and,  notwithstanding  the  fixity 
of  her  eyes,  and  the  pallor  of  her  cheeks,  that  charming,  little 
childish  face,  with  the  lip  shaded  with  dark  hairs,  wore  the 
same  expression  as  before, — 

"  I  love  you  all,  and  I  have  done  no  one  any  harm,  and  what 
have  you  done  to  me  ?  "  said  her  lovely  face,  pitifully  pale  in 
death.  In  the  corner  of  the  room,  a  small,  red  object  was 
yelping  and  wailing  in  the  trembling,  white  hands  of  Marya 
Bogdanovna. 

Two  hours  later.  Prince  Andrei,  with  noiseless  steps,  went 
to  his  father's  cabinet.  The  old  prince  had  already  been  in- 
formed of  everything.  He  was  standing  by  the  very  door,  and 
as  soon  as  it  was  thrown  open,  the  old  man,  without  speaking, 
flung  his  rough,  aged  hands  around  his  son's  neck,  and  held 
him  as  in  a  vice  and  sobbed  like  a  child. 

Three  days  later,  they  buriod  the  little  princess,  and  Prince 
Andrei  went  up  the  steps  to  the  coffin  to  take  his  last  fare- 
well. And  there  also  in  the  coffin  lay  the  same  face,  though 
with  closed  eyes. 

"  Akh !  what  have  you  done  to  me  ?  "  it  all  seemed  to  say. 
Prince  Andrei  felt  that  his  heartstrings  were  torn  within  him, 
that  he  had  done  a  wrong  that  could  never  be  repaired  or  for- 
gotten.    His  grief  was  too  deep  for  tears. 


42  yVAR  AND  PEACE. 

The  old  prince  also  came  and  kissed  her  waxen  hand,  pla- 
cidly folded  upon  her  breast.,  and  to  him  her  face  seemed  to 
say,— 

"  Akh !  and  why  have  you  done  this  to  me  ?  " 
And  the  old  man,  after  looking  into  her  face,  abruptly 
turned  away. 

Then,  again,  five  days  later,  they  christened  the  baby  prince 
Nikolai  Andreyitch.  The  nurse  held  up  the  little  garments 
against  her  chin,  while  the  priest,  with  a  goose  quill,  anointed 
with  holy  oil  the  infant's  wrinkled  little  pink  palms  and  soles. 
His  grandfather,  who  acted  as  sponsor,  with  tottering  steps, 
and  afraid  of  dropping  him,  carried  the  little  prince  around 
the  tin-lined  font,  and  handed  him  over  to  his  godmother,  the 
Princess  Mariya. 

Prince  Andrei,  in  deathly  apprehension  lest  they  should 
drop  the  child,  sat  in  the  next  room,  waiting  for  the  conclusion 
of  the  sacrament.  He  looked  joyfully  at  his  baby  when  the 
nurse  brought  him  to  him,  nodded  his  head  with  great  satis- 
faction when  the  nurse  confided  to  him  that  the  lump  of  wax 
with  some  of  the  infant's  hairs  on  it,  when  thrown  into  the 
font  did  not  sink,  but  floated.* 


CHAPTER  X. 

The  part  played  by  Rostof  in  the  duel  between  Dolokhof 
and  Bezukhoi  was  ignored  through  the  old  count's  efforts,  and 
the  young  man,  instead  of  being  cashiered  as  he  anticipated 
was  appointed  adjutant  to  the  governor-general  of  Moscow. 
In  consequence  of  this,  he  was  unable  to  go  to  the  country 
with  the  rest  of  the  f^imily,  but  was  kept  in  Moscow  all  sum- 
mer, engaged  in  his  new  duties. 

Dolokhof  recovered,  and  he  and  Rostof  became  great  friends 
during  the  time  of  his  convalescence.  He  had  been  carried  to 
the  residence  of  his  mother,  who  loved  him  passionately  and 
devotedly.  The  elderly  Marya  Ivanovna,  becoming  attached  to 
Kostof  on  account  of  his  friendship  for  her  Fedya,  often  talked 
with  him  about  her  son. 

"  Yes,  count,  he  is  too  noble  and  high-souled  for  this  corrupt 

*  It  is  part  of  the  Russian  baptismal  service  for  the  priest  to  cnt  the  in- 
fant's hair.  The  snperatition  considers  it  unluoicy  for  the  bit  of  wax  with 
a  few  of  these  hairs  attaclied  to  suik  if  placed  in  the  waters  of  tlie  baptisiiial 
font,  and  lucky  for  it  to  lioat. 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  48 

world  of  ours.  No  one  loves  goodness ;  it  serves  as  a  reproach 
to  every  one.  Now  tell  me,  count,  tell  me  honestly,  was  it 
fair  and  honorable  on  Bezukhoi's  part  ?  And  Fedya,  with 
all  his  noble  nature,  always  liked  him,  and  now  never  says 
hard  things  about  him  at  all.  And  in  Petersburg,  they  played 
all  those  tricks  on  the  policeman  :  they  did  it  together,  didn't 
they  ?  WeU,  Bezukhoi  went  scot  free,  and  my  Fedya  had  to 
bear  the  whole  brunt  of  it  on  his  shoulders  !  Yes,  he  had  to 
bear  it  all  I  To  be  sure,  he  has  been  restored  to  his  rank,  but 
why  shouldn't  he  have  been  ?  I  don't  believe  the  fatherland 
has  many  braver  sous  than  he  is !  And  now  in  regard  to  this 
duel !  Have  such  men  any  feeling,  any  honor  ?  Knowing 
that  he  was  an  only  son,  to  challenge  him  to  fight  a  duel,  and 
then  to  fire  right  at  him !  Fortunately,  God  helped  us.  And 
what  was  it  all  about  ?  Who  is  there  in  our  day  who  doesn't 
form  intrigues  ?  Why  should  he  be  so  jealous  ?  I  should 
think  he  might  have  given  some  signs  of  it  before,  and  here  a 
year  has  gone  by !  And  so  he  challenged  him,  supposing  that 
Fedya  would  not  accept  because  he  owed  him  some  money. 
How  nasty  of  him !  I  know  you  appreciate  Fedka,  my  dear 
count,  and  so  I  love  you  with  my  whole  heart,  believe  me. 
There  aren't  many  who  understand  him.  He  has  such  a  lofty, 
heavenly,  nature." 

Dolokhof  himself,  during  his  convalescence,  often  said 
things  to  Bostof  that  no  one  would  ever  have  expected  from 
him. 

**  I  am  supposed  to  be  a  bad  man,  I  know,"  said  he,  "  and 
let  them  think  so.  I  don't  care  anything  about  the  opinions 
of  men,  unless  I  am  fond  of  them ;  but  if  I  am  fond  of  any- 
one, I  am  so  fond  of  them  that  I  would  give  my  life  for  them, 
and  as  for  the  rest,  if  they  stood  in  my  way  I  would  push  them 
to  the  wall.  My  mother  is  a  dear,  precious  woman,  and  I  have 
two  or  three  others,  —  you  among  the  number  —  and  as  for 
the  rest,  I  only  heed  them  as  so  many  who  may  be  able  to  be 
useful  or  injurious  to  me.  And  almost  all  are  injurious,  especi- 
ially  the  women.  Yes,  my  dear, —  dusha  moya  " — he  went  on  to 
say,  '^  Among  men  I  meet  many  who  are  lovable,  noble,  elevated, 
but  among  women,  I  have  yet  to  meet  one  who  is  not  to  be 
bought  —  all  are  alike,  countess  and  cook  !  I  have  yet  to  find 
that  celestial  purity,  devotion,  which  I  look  for  in  woman.  If 
I  were  ever  to  find  such  a  woman,  I  would  give  my  life  for 
her.  But  these !  "  —  he  made  a  depreciatory  gesture.  "  And 
you  may  not  believe  me,  but  if  I  prize  my  life  still,  it  is  sinii)ly 
because  I  hope  some  day  to  find  one  of  these  heavenly  creat- 


44  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

ures,  who  would  regenerate  me,  purify  me,  and  elevate  me. 
But  you  wUl  not  understand  me." 

"  Indeed,  I  understand  perfectly,"  replied  Kostof,  who  was 
coming  more  and  more  under  the  influence  of  his  new  friend. 

In  the  autumn,  the  Rostof  family  returned  to  Moscow. 
Early  in  the  winter,  Denisof  also  came  back  and  stayed  with 
the  Rostofs.  The  first  months  of  this  winter  of  1806,  which 
Nikolai  Rostof  spent  in  Moscow,  could  not  have  been  hi^pier 
for  him  and  for  all  his  family.  Nikolai  brought  home  with 
him  to  his  parents'  home  many  young  men.  Viera  was  a 
pretty  young  lady  of  twenty  summers.  Sonya  was  just  six- 
teen, and  had  all  the  charm  of  an  opening  flower.  Natasha, 
half  child  and  half  maiden,  was  now  at  one  moment  full  of  in- 
nocent merriment,  at  the  next,  showing  all  the  fascination  of 
a  young  lady. 

The  house  of  the  Rostofs  at  this  time  seemed  to  be  full  of 
the  peculiar  atmosphere  of  loveliness  characteristic  of  homes 
where  there  are  very  pretty  and  very  young  ladies.  Every 
young  man  who  came  there  and  saw  these  bright,  impression- 
able, girlish  faces,  smiling  apparently  from  very  happiness^ 
and  the  merry  running  to  and  fro,  and  heard  that  continual 
chattering  of  maiden's  voices,  inconsequential,  illogical,  kindly 
to  every  one,  ready  for  anything,  and  full  of  hope,  and  listened 
to  these  inconsequential  sounds,  now  of  singing,  now  of  instru- 
mental music,  must  have  experienced  one  and  the  same  feeling 
of  predisposition  for  love  and  coming  happiness,  which  the 
young  people  of  the  Rostof  household  themselves  experienced. 

Among  the  young  men  whom  Rostof  introduced  at  home  was 
Dolokhof  —  one  of  the  first — and  every  one,  with  the  excep- 
tion of  Natasha,  was  pleased  with  him.  She  almost  quarrelled 
with  her  brother  concerning  him.  She  insisted  that  he  was 
a  bad  man,  that  Pierre  was  in  the  right  in  his  duel  with  Dol- 
okhof, and  the  other  in  the  wrong ;  and  that  he  was  disagree- 
able and  insincere. 

"  There's  nothing  for  me  to  understand,"  cried  Natasha,  with 
stubborn  self-will ;  "  he  is  bad,  and  lacks  feeling.  Now,  here, 
I  like  your  Denisof ;  he  may  be  a  spendthrift,  and  all  that 
but  still  I  like  him,  and  I  certainly  understand  him.  I  don't 
know  how  to  express  it  to  you,  but  everything  that  he  does 
has  some  ulterior  object,  and  I  don't  like  him ;  but  Denisof  "  — 

"  There  now,  Denisof  is  quite  another  matter,"  replied  Ni- 
kolai, giving  her  to  understand,  that  in  comparison  with  Dol- 
okhof; Denisof  was  of  no  consequence.     "  You  ought  to  know 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  45 

what  a  tender  heart  this  Dolokhof  has,  you  ought  to  see  him 
with  his  mother  !  what  a  warm-hearted  fellow  he  is !  " 

"  Well,  I  don't  know  anything  about  that,  but  I'm  ill  at 
ease  with  him.     And  do  you  know,  he's  in  love  with  Sonya  ?  " 

"  What  nonsense  "  — 

"  I'm  certain  of  it,  you  can  see  for  jrourself." 

Natasha's  prognostication  was  justified.  Dolokhof,  who  did 
not  like  the  society  of  ladies,  had  begun  to  be  a  frequent  visitor 
at  the  Rostofs',  and  the  problem  what  brought  him  there  was 
quickly  solved,  though  no  one  ventured  to  remark  upon  it.  He 
came  on  account  of  Sonya.  And  Sonya,  though  she  would 
never  have  dared  to  acknowledge  such  a  thing,  knew  it  very 
well,  and  every  time  that  Dolokhof  was  announced,  blushed  as 
red  as  kumatch. 

Dolokhof  often  came  to  dinner  at  the  Bostofs' ;  he  never 
missed  an  entertainment  where  they  were  to  be  found,  and  fre- 
quented the  adoleacentes  balls  given  by  logel,  which  the  Ros- 
tofs always  attended.  He  paid  preeminent  attention  to  Sonya, 
and  looked  at  her  with  such  eyes,  that  not  only  the  girl  her- 
self could  not  endure  his  glances  without  blushing,  but  even 
the  old  countess  and  Natasha  flushed  if  they  caught  sight  of 
him  looking  at  her. 

It  was  plain  to  see,  that  this  powerful,  strange  man  was 
eoming  under  the  irresistible  influence  of  this  gracious  dark- 
eyed  maiden,  who,'  all  the  time,  was  in  love  with  some  one 
else. 

Bostof  perceived  that  there  was  something  new  between 
Dolokhof  and  Sonya,  but  he  could  not  make  out  what  this  re- 
lationship was. 

"  Everybody  here  is  in  love  with  some  one,"  he  said  to  him- 
self, referring  to  Sonya  and  Natasha.  But  he  was  no  longer 
at  his  ease  in  the  company  of  Sonya  and  Dolokhof,  as  before, 
and  he  began  to  be  absent  from  home  more  frequently. 

In  the  autumn  of  1806,  there  had  been  continual  talk  about 
war  with  Napoleon,  and  with  even  greater  heat  than  the  year 
before.  A  conscription  of  ten  men  in  a  thousand,  and  of  nine 
militianien  to  a  thousand,  in  addition,  was  ordered.  Every- 
where anathemas  were  heaped  upon  Bonapai'teism,  and  nothing 
was  talked  about  in  Moscow  except  the  coming  war. 

For  the  Bostof  family,  all  interest  in  these  preparations  for 
war  were  centred  on  the  fact  that  Nikolushka  would  not  hear 
of  such  a  thing  as  remaining  at  home,  and  was  only  waiting 
for  the  end  of  Denisofs  furlough  in  order  to  return  with  him 
to  his  regiment  aft^r  (li^  holidays.     The  approaching  depart- 


46  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

ure  did  not  in  any  way  prevent  him  from  having  a  good  time; 
it  i*ather  only  seemed  still  more  to  spur  them  sdl  on  to  enjoy- 
ment. The  larger  part  of  his  time  he  spent  away  from  the 
house^  at  dinners^  receptions^  and  balls. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

On  the  third  day  of  the  Christmas  holidays,  Kikolai  dined 
at  home — a  thing  which  he  had  rarely  done  of  late.  It 
was  a  sort  of  farewell  dinner,  as  he  and  Denisof  were  going  to 
start  for  their  regiments  after  Epiphany.  There  were  about 
twenty  sat  down  at  table,  among  the  number,  Dolokhof  and 
Denisof. 

Never  at  the  Kostofs  had  that  delicious  breath  of  passion, 
and  that  atmosphere  of  love  made  itself  felt  with  such  foroe  tf 
during  these  days  of  the  Christmastide. 

"  Seize  these  moments  of  happiness  ;  let  yourself  drift  into 
love ;  become  enamoured  yourself.  This  is  the  only  genuine 
bliss  in  the  world ;  everything  else  is  dross.  And  with  this 
alone  all  of  us  here  are  exclusively  occupied,"  said  this  atmoe- 
phere. 

Nikolai,  as  always,  tired  out  two  spans  of  horses,  and  yet 
had  not  had  time  enough  to  go  to  all  the  places  where  he  was 
needed  and  summoned;  he  came  home  just  before  dinner 
time.  As  soon  as  he  came  in,  he  noticed  and  felt  this  atmoe- 
phere  so  charged  with  the  electrical  tension  of  love,  but  more 
especially  he  remarked  a  strange  embarrassment  existing  among 
several  of  those  who  were  gathered  in  the  drawing-room.  Pecul- 
iarly agitated  were  Sonya,  Dolokhof,  and  the  old  countess,  and, 
to  a  certain  extent,  his  sister  Natasha,  Nikolai  perceived  that 
something  must  have  happened  between  Sonya  and  Dolokhof, 
and,  in  accordance  with  his  impulsive  nature,  and  the  genuine 
tact  characteristic  of  him,  he  showed  himself  very  affectionate 
and  considerate  toward  these  two. 

That  evening,  it  being,  as  we  have  already  said,  the  third 
day  of  the  Christmastide,  there  was  to  be  one  of  the  balls 
which  logel,  the  dancing  master,  used  to  give  during  the  holi- 
days to  the  young  men  and  women  of  his  clientele, 

"Nikolenla,  you  will  go  to  logel's,  won't  you  ?  Please  do!" 
said  Natasha  to  him.  ^*  He  invited  you  especially,  and  Vasili 
Dmitritch  is  going."  (By  Vasili  Dmitritch,  she  meant  Deni- 
sof.) 

"  Where  wouldn't  I  go  at  the  countess's  wequest ! "  ex- 


WAR  AND  PEACE,  47 

[  claimed  Denisof,  who,  in  a  joking  way,  occapied  in  the  Rostof 
f  household  the  position  of  knight  to  Natasha.    ''  I  am  weady  to 
jlance  even  the  pcu  de  chdle  /  " 

V*  I  will  if  I  have  time.  I  promised  to  go  to  the  Arkharofs, 
vllo  have  a  party  this  evening,"  said  Nikolai. 

^  And  you  ?  "  he  asked  turning  to  Dolokhof.  But  the  mo- 
ment the  words  had  left  his  lip,  he  perceived  that  he  had 
committed  a  blunder. 

"  Yes,  perhaps  so,"  replied  Dolokhof,  coolly  and  laconically, 
glancing  at  Sony  a,  frowning,  and  giving  Nikolai  exactly  the 
same  sort  of  a  look  that  he  had  given  Pierre,  the  night  of 
the  dinner  to  Bagration  at  the  club. 

"There  must  be  something  up^"  said  Nikolai  to  himself, 
and  he  was  still  further  confirmed  in  this  impression  by  the 
fact  that  Dolokhof  took  his  departure  immediately  after  dinner 
He  called  Natasha  to  him,  and  asked  what  the  matter  was. 

"  And  I  was  just  looking  for  you."  exclaimed  Natasha,  run- 
ning to  him.  "  I  told  you  so,  but  you  would  not  believe  me," 
said  she,  triumphantly.    "  He  has  proposed  for  Sonya." 

Little  as  Sonya  had  occupied  Nikolai's  thoughts  during 
these  last  weeks,  still  he  felt  a  sort  of  pang  when  he  learned 
this.  Dolokhof  was  a  suitable,  and  in  some  respects  a  bril- 
liant match  for  the  dowerless  orphan,  Sonya.  From  the  old 
countess's  standpoint,  and  that  of  society,  it  was  simple  mad- 
ness to  refuse  him.  And,  therefore,  Nikolai's  first  feeling  on 
hearing  this  piece  of  news,  was  that  of  indignation  against 
the  girl. 

,  He  had  it  on  his  tongue's  end  to  say :  "  And  it  is  an  excellent 
thing,  of  course,  for  her  to  forget  her  old  promises,  and  accept 
this  first  proposal,"  but  before  he  spoke,  Natasha  went  on,  — 

"  And  can  you  imagine  it,  she  refused  him  ?  —  absolutely 
refused  him  !  She  told  him  that  she  loved  some  one  else,"  she 
added,  after  a  moment's  silence. 

"  Yes,  and  could  my  Sonya  have  done  anything  else ! " 
thought  Nikolai. 

*'  In  spite  of  all  mamma's  arguments,  she  refused  him,  and 
I  know  that  she  won't  change  her  decision  if  she  said  that." 

"  And  mamma  tried  to  persuade  her  ?  "  he  asked  reproach- 
fully. 

"  Yes,"  said  Natasha.  "  And  now,  Nikolenka  —  and  don't 
he  vexed  —  but  I  know  you  will  never  marry  her.  I  am  sure 
of  it,  God  knows  why,  but  I  am  perfectly  certain  that  you 
will  never  marry  her." 

♦'Well,  you  know  nothing  about  it  at  all,"  said  Nikolai, 


48  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

"  But  I  must  have  a  little  talk  with  her.    How  charming  8)ie 
is !  our  Sonya,"  he  added  with  a  smile. 

"  Charming  !  Indeed  she  is.     I  will  send  her  to  you." 

And  Natasha,  kissing  her  brother,  ran  away. 

In  a  moment,  Sonya  came  in  alarmed  and  abashed,  as  tho  i|^ 
she  had  been  doing  something  wrong.  Nikolai  went  to  if 
and  kissed  her  hand.  This  was  the  first  opportunity  that  th  f 
had  enjoyed  for  some  time  of  being  alone  together,  and  tal  Tjk 
ing  about  their  love. 

"  Sophie,"  said  he  timidly,  and  then  all  the  time  growi;  « 
more  and  more  confident.  "  If  you  have  seen  fit  to  refuse—'  f 
is  not  only  a  brilliant,  but  a  very  advantageous  offer;  he  is  a  i 
splendid,  noble  fellow  ;  and  he  is  a  friend  of  mine." 

Sonya  interrupted  him. 

"  I  have  already  refused  him,"  said  she,  hastily. 

'^  If  you  have  refused  him  for  my  sake,  then  I  am  afraid 
that  I "  — 

Sonya  again  interrupted  him.  She  looked  at  him  with  be- 
seeching, frightened  eyes. 

'^  Nicolas,  don't  speak  of  that,  please,"  said  she. 

^^  Nay,  but  I  must.  May  be  it  is  suffisance,  unbounded  con- 
ceit on  my  part,  but  it  is  better  to  speak.  If  you  have  re- 
fused him  for  my  sake,  then  I  ought  to  tell  you  the  whole 
truth.     I  love  you,  I  think,  more  than  all "  — 

"  That  is  all  I  want,"  said  Sonya,  with  a  sigh. 

'^  No  I  but  I  have  fallen  in  love  a  thousand  times,  and  I  shall  I 
fall  in  love  again,  but  I  shall  never  find  any  one  so  friendly, 
so  true,  so  lovely  as  you.  But  then  I  am  young.  Maman  does 
not  approve  of  this.  So,  then,  simply  I  can't  make  any  prom- 
ises. And  I  beg  of  you  to  reconsider  Dolokhof's  proposal," 
said  he,  finding  it  hard  to  speak  his  friend's  name. 

*'  Don't  mention  such  a  thing.  I  have  no  desires  at  alL  I 
love  you  as  though  you  were  my  brother,  and  shall  always  lore 
you,  and  that  is  quite  enough  for  me." 

"  You  are  an  angel !  I  am  not  worthy  of  you,  but  what  I  am 
afraid  is  that  I  might  deceive  you!"  Nikolai  once  more 
kissed  her  hand. 

CHAPTER  XII. 

"  loGEL  has  the  joUiest  balls  in  Moscow."  This  was  what 
the  mammas  said,  as  they  looked  at  their  adoleseenies,  practis- 
ing the  steps  which  they  had  just  been  learning ;  this  was  said 
also  by  the  grown-up  girls  and  young  men,  who  came  to  thew 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  49 

lulls  with  just  a  shade  of  condescension,  and>  nevertheless, 
found  there  the  very  best  amusement. 

This  very  same  year,  two  engagements  had  resulted  from 

these  balls.     The  two  pretty  princesses  Gorchakova  found  hus- 

fvl.  bands  there,  and  brought  these  balls  into  still  greater  vogue. 

•  Their  peculiarity  was  the  lack  of  any  host  or  hostess ;  —  they 

t\  merely  had  the  good-natured  logel,  light  as  flying  down,  bow- 

ei  ing  and  scraping,  according  to  the  rules  of  his  art ;  and  almost 

all  of  his  guests  were  those  from  whom  he  had  received  bank- 

gt  notes  in  payment  for  dancing  lessons.    The  fact  was  only  those 

'    came  to  these  balls  who  liked  to  dance  and  have  a  good  time 

with  the  zest  of  thirteen  or  fourteen  year  old  maidens  wearing 

a  long  dress  for  the  first  time  in  their  lives. 

All,  with  rare  exceptions,  were  pretty,  or  at  least  seemed  to 
be.  How  enthusiastically  they  all  smiled,  and  how  eloquent 
were  their  sparkling  eyes  !  Sometimes  even  the  pas  de  chdle, 
or  shawl  figure  was  danced  by  his  most  advanced  pupils, 
and  of  these,  Natasha  was  the  best,  being  distinguished  for 
her  grace ;  but  at  this,  the  last  of  the  season,  they  danced 
only  schotHsches  Anglaises,  and  the  mazurka,  which  was  now 
beginning  to  be  fashionable. 

logel  engaged  for  the  ball  the  large  drawing-room  in  the 
Bezukhof  mansion,  and  the  ball  was  a  great  success,  as  every- 
one confessed.  Many  were  the  pretty  girls,  and  the  Rostof 
maidens  were  among  the  prettiest.  Both  of  them  were  re- 
markably happy  and  gay.  That  evening,  before  she  started, 
Sonya,  proud  of  Dolokhof's  proposal,  of  her  refusal  of  him, 
and  her  explanation  with  Nikolai,  whirled  around  the  house, 
scarcely  giving  her  maid  a  chance  to  comb  her  hair,  and  now 
she  was  perfectly  transfigured  with  impetuous  delight. 

Natasha,  not  less  proud  of  going  to  this  ball,  for  the 
first  time  in  a  long  dress,  was  even  more  radiant.  Both  wore 
muslin  gowns  with  pink  ribbons. 

The  moment  they  entered  the  ballroom,  Natasha  began  to  be 
enamoured  of  everyone.  She  was  not  enamoured  of  any  one 
in  particular,  but  of  all !  Whomever  her  eyes  happened  to  fall 
upon,  with  him  she  was  deeply  in  love  for  the  time  being. 

"  Akh !  how  nice  it  is ! "  she  kept  saying,  whenever  she  met 
Sonya. 

Nikolai  and  Denisof  strolled  through  the  rooms,  looking 
graciously  and  condescendingly  on  the  dancers. 

"  How  pwetty  she  is  !  She  will  be  a  waving  beauty ! " 

"  Who  ?  " 

"  The  Countess  Natasha,"  replied  Denisof. 
VOL,  2,— 4. 


60  ^^^  A.ND  PEACE. 

^'And  how  charmingly  she  dances!  What  gwaoe!"  he  said 
once  more,  after  a  little  pause. 

"  Whom  are  you  talking  about  ?  " 

"  I  was  refeVing  to  your  sister,"  said  Denisof,  testily. 

Eostof  smiled. 

"  My  dear  count,  you  are  one  of  my  best  pupils,  you  must 
dance,"  said  the  little  logel,  coming  up  to  NikolaL  ^'  Just  see 
what  a  lot  of  pretty  girls."  * 

And  with  the  same  request  he  turned  to  Denisof,  who  also 
had  been  one  of  his  pupils. 

"  No,  my  dear,  I  pwefer  to  be  a  wall-flower,"  t  replied  Denisof. 
"  Don't  you  wemember  how  illy  I  pwofited  by  your  lessons  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no,"  said  logel,  hastening  to  reassure  him.  **  You  were 
only  somewhat  inattentive,  but  you  had  the  ability ;  oh  yes, 
you  had  the  ability." 

Tlie  band  now  began  to  play  the  newly  introduced  mazurka. 
Nikolai  could  not  refuse  Togel,  and  invited  Sonya  as  his  part^ 
ner.  Denisof  sat  down  with  some  of  the  elderly  ladies,  and 
leaning  his  elbows  on  his  sword,  and  beating  time  with  his 
foot,  told  jolly  stories  and  made  the  old  ladies  laugh,  while 
his  eyes  followed  the  young  people  dancing. 

logel  led  the  mazurka  with  Natasha,  who  was  his  pride  and 
his  best  pupil.  Noiselessly,  skilfully  shuffling  his  feet,  shod 
in  pumps,  logel  flew  around  the  hall  with  Natasha,  rather 
timid,  but,  nevertheless,  performing  all  the  steps  with  the  ut- 
most care. 

Denisof  did  not  take  his  eyes  from  her,  and  thumped  his 
sword  in  time,  with  an  expression  that  said  clearly  that  he 
was  not  dancing  simply  because  he  did  not  care  to,  and  not  be- 
cause he  was  not  able.  In  the  midst  of  the  figure,  he  saw  Kos- 
tof  passing,  and  called  him  to  him. 

"  That's  no  way  at  all,"  said  he,  "do  you  call  that  the  Pol- 
ish mazurka  ?     But  she  dances  admiwably  though ! " 

Knowing  that  Denisof  in  Poland  had  won  great  reputation 
for  his  skill  in  dancing  the  genuine  Polish  mazurka,  Nikolai 
glided  over  to  Natasha, — 

"  Go  ahead,"  said  he,  "  choose  Denisof !  He  dances  splen- 
didly !     It's  wonderful !  " 

When  it  came  Natasha's  turn  again,  she  got  up  and  swiftly 
chasseeing  across  the  hall  in  her  dainty  slippers  trimmed  with 
rosettes,  she  blushingly  njiade  her  way  to  the  corner  where 

•  *^3fon  cker  comtey  vous  etea  Vun  de  mes  meillexirs  ^coliers;  U/aut  ^M 
V0U8  danaiez,     Voyez  combien  dejoliet  demoiselles" 
t  **  NoHfinon  chert  je/e'aitcipis^*ie,** 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  51 

Denisof  was  sitting.  She  saw  that  all  were  looking  at  her  and 
waiting.  Nikolai  noticed  that  Denisof  and  Natasha  were  hav- 
ing a  playful  quarrel,  and  that  the  former  refused,  but  smiled 
with  gratification.     He  went  up  to  them. 

"  Please,  Yasili  Dmitritch/'  said  Natasha.  ^'  Gome,  please 
do!" 

"  I  pway  you,  let  me  off,  countess." 

"There,  there,  that's  no  excuse,  Vasya !  "  said  Nikolai. 

"  You're  like  two  kittens  twying  to  persuade  Vaska,  the  old 
cat,"  said  Denisof,  jestingly. 

"I  will  sing  a  whole  evening  for  you,"  pleaded  Natasha. 

"  The  little  enchant wess  can  do  what  she  likes  with  me ! "  ex- 
claimed Denisof,  and  he  laid  aside  his  sword.  He  made  his 
way  out  from  among  the  chairs,  firmly  grasped  his  paitner's 
hand,  threw  back  his  head,  and  put  his  feet  in  position,  wait- 
ing to  catch  the  beat  of  the  music. 

Only  on  horseback,  or  while  dancing  the  mazurka,  was  Den- 
isof s  small  stature  lost  sight  of,  and  he  appeared  to  be  the 
gallant  young  hero  that  he  felt  himself  to  be.  While  waiting 
to  get  the  time,  he  glanced  up  at  his  partner  triumphantly  and 
mischievously,  then  suddenly  rapped  his  heel  on  the  floor,  and, 
like  a  tennis  ball,  bounded  up  elastically,  and  sped  out  into  the 
middle  of  the  room,  carrying  his  lady  with  him.  Noiselessly, 
he  flew  half  across  the  hall  on  one  foot,  and,  apparently,  not 
seeing  the  chairs  ranged  in  front  of  him  was  like  to  have  run 
right  into  them ;  but  suddenly  clinking  his  spurs  and  spread- 
ing his  legs,  he  stopped  on  his  heels,  stood  so  for  a  second, 
then  with  a  clanking  of  his  spurs,  making  a  soi-t  of  double 
shuffle,  quickly  tinned  about,  and  with  his  left  heel  clicking 
against  the  right,  ne  again  chasseed  around  the  circle. 

Natasha  realized  \)y  a  sort  of  intuition  what  he  intended  to 
do,  and  herself  not  knowing  how,  simply  followed  him,  and 
gave  herself  up  to  his  guidance. 

Now  he  put  his  left  arm  around  her  waist,  then  his  right; 
now  he  would  fall  on  his  knee,  and  cause  her  to  pirouette 
around  him,  and  then,  again,  he  would  spring  up  and  chassee 
off  in  a  straight  line  with  such  impetuosity,  without  even  tak- 
ing breath,  that  it  seemed  as  though  they  were  going  straight 
through  all  the  rooms ;  then  suddenly  he  would  come  to  a 
pause  again,  and  execute  some  other  new  and  unexpected  evo- 
lution. When  at  last,  swiftly  whirling  his  lady  about  in  front 
of  her  own  seat  and  jingling  his  spurs,  he  made  her  a  low 
bow,  Natasha  forgot  to  perform  a  courtesy.  In  per])lexity,  she 
fixed  her  eyes  upon  him,  smiling :  it  seemed  to  her  that  she 


62  t^Ak  AND  P^ACn. 

did  not  know  him.      "What  does  this  mean?"  she  asked 
herself. 

Although  logel  refused  to  acknowledge  such  a  dance  as  a 
proper  mazurka,  all  were  in  raptures  over  the  skill  manifested. 
Denisof  was  in  constant  requisition  as  a  partner,  and  the  old 
people,  smiling,  began  to  talk  about  Poland,  and  about  the  good 
old  times.  Denisof,  flushed  from  the  exertion  of  the  mazurka, 
and  wiping  his  face  with  his  handkerchief,  sat  down  next 
Natasha,  and  through  the  rest  of  the  evening  did  not  leave 
her  side. 

CHAPTER  XIII. 

For  two  days,  Rostof  had  not  seen  Dolokhof  at  his  house, 
or  found  him  at  home :  on  the  third  day,  he  receired  a  note 
from  him,— 

'^  As  I  intend  never  to  visit  your  house  again,  from  reasons 
which  you  may  appreciate,  and  as  I  am  about  to  i«join  my 
regiment,  I  am  going  to  give  to  my  friends  a  farewell  supper 
this  evening.     Come  to  the  H6tel  d'Angleterre." 

At  ten  o'clock  that  evening,  after  the  theatre,  where  he  had 
been  with  Denisof  and  his  family,  Rostof  repaired  to  the  place 
which  Dolokhof  had  designated.  He  was  immediately  shown 
into  the  handsomest  room  of  the  hotel,  which  Dolokhof  had 
hired  for  the  occasion  A  score  of  men  were  gathered  around 
the  table,  at  the  head  of  which  sat  Dolokhof,  between  two 
candles.  There  was  a  pile  of  gold  aud  bills  on  the  table,  and 
Dolokhof  was  keeping  the  bank. 

Since  Dolokhof's  proposal  and  Sonya's  ref^al,  Nikolai  had 
not  seen  him,  and  he  felt  a  slight  sense  of  confusion  at  the 
thought  of  their  meeting. 

Dolokhof's  keen,  cold  eyes  met  Nikolai's  the  moment  he  en- 
tered the  room,  as  though  he  had  been  waiting  for  him  for 
some  time. 

"  We  have  not  met  for  several  days,"  said  Dolokhof,  "  thank 
you  for  coming.  Here  I  will  only  finish  this  hand.  Ilyushka 
and  his  chorus  are  coming." 

"  I  have  called  at  your  house,"  said  Rostof  reddening. 

Dolokhof  made  him  no  answer.    "  You  may  bet  if  you  will.'' 

Rostof  recalled  a  strange  conversation  which  he  had  once 
had  with  Dolokhof.  "  Only  fools  play  on  chance,"  had  been 
Dolokhof's  remark  at  the  time. 

"  But  perhaps  you  are  afraid  to  play  with  me,"  said  Dolokhof 
now,  as  though  he  read  Rostof's  thought,  and  he  smiled. 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  63 

In  spite  of  that  smile^  Bostof  could  plainly  see  that  he  was 
in  the  same  frame  of  mind  that  he  had  been  at  the  time  of 
the  dinner  at  the  club,  or,  one  might  say,  at  any  of  those 
times  when  as  it  were,  Dolokhof  felt  himself  under  the  neces- 
sity of  breaking  the  monotony  of  his  quiet  life  by  some  outre, 
and  usually  outrageous  action. 

Boetof  felt  ill  at  ease.  He  racked  his  brain,  but  was  un- 
able to  find  an  appropriate  repartee  for  DolokhoFs  words. 
But  before  he  had  a  chance  to  reply,  Dolokhof,  looking 
straight  into  Bostof's  face,  said  slowly,  with  deliberate  inter- 
vals between  the  words,  and  loud  enough  for  all  to  hear,  — 

"  Do  you  remember  you  and  I  were  talking  once  about  gam- 
bling. ...  *  It's  a  fool,  a  durak,  who  is  willing  to  play  games 
of  chance.  One  ought  to  play  a  sure  hand«'  I  said  so,  but 
I  am  going  to  try  it  anyway." 

"T^  the  chance  or  the  sure  thing  —  I  wonder  which," 
thought  Bofitof . 

"Well,  you'd  better  not  play,"  he  added,  and  springing  the 
freshly  opened  pack  of  cards,  he  added  :  "  Bank,  gentlemen !  " 

Pushing  the  money  forward,  Dolokhof  prepared  to  start  the 
bank.  Bostof  took  a  seat  near  him,  and  at  first  did  not  play. 
Dolokhof  glanced  at  him. 

"  What  ?  Won't  you  take  a  hand  ?  "  and  strangely  enough 
Nikolai  felt  it  incumbent  upon  him  to  take  a  card  and 
stake  an  insignificant  sum.  It  was  thus  that  he  began  to 
play. 

"  I  have  no  money  with  me,"  he  said. 

« I  will  trust  vou." 

Bostof  named  five  rubles  as  his  stake  and  lost ;  he  staked 
again,  and  again  he  lost.  Dolohkof  trumped,  in  other  words 
took  Bostof  s  stake  ten  times  running. 

"  Gentlemen,"  said  he,  after  he  had  been  keeping  the  bank 
some  time,  "  I  beg  of  you  to  lay  your  stakes  on  the  cards, 
otherwise,  I  may  become  confused  in  the  accounts." 

One  of  the  players  ventured  the  hope  that  he  was  to  be 
trusted. 

"  Trusted,  certainly,  but  I  am  afraid  of  getting  the  accounts 
mixed.  I  beg  of  you  to  lay  your  money  on  the  cards,"  re- 
plied Dolokhof.  "  Don't  you  worry  yourself,  you  and  I  will 
settle  our  accounts  afterwards,"  he  added,  turning  to  Bostof. 

The  game  went  on ;  the  servant  kept  filling  their  glasses 
with  champagne. 

All  Bostof s  cards  failed  to  be  matched,  and  his  losses 
amounted   to  eight  hundred  rubles.     He   was  just   writing 


54  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

down  on  the  back  of  a  card  eight  hundred  rubles,  but  as  it 
happened  that  at  that  moment,  a  glass  of  champagne  was 
handed  him,  he  hesitated,  and  once  more  staked  the  sum  that 
he  had  been  risking  all  along,  that  is  twenty  rubles. 

"  Make  it  that "  said  Dolokhof,  though  he  was  apparently  uot 
looking  at  Rostof .  **  You'll  win  it  back  all  the  quicker.  The 
others  win  but  you  keep  losing.  Or  are  you  afraid  of  me  ?  " 
he  insisted. 

Rostof  acquiesced,  staked  the  eight  hundred  which  he  had 
written  down  on  a  seven  of  hearts  with  a  bent  corner,  which 
he  had  picked  up  from  the  floor.  He  remembered  it  well 
enough  afterwards.  He  laid  down  this  seven  of  hearts,  after 
writing  on  the  piece  torn  off,  the  figures  eight  hundred,  in 
large,  distinct  characters ;  he  drank  the  glass  of  foaming 
champagne  handed  him  bv  the  waiter,  smiled  at  Dolokhofs 
words,  and  with  anxious  heart,  while  hoping  that  a  seven 
would  turn  up,  watched  the  pack  of  cards  in  Dolokhofs 
hands.' 

The  gain  or  loss  dependent  upon  this  seven  of  hearts, 
would  have  very  serious  consequences  for  Rostof.  On  the 
preceding  Sunday,  Count  Ilya  Audrey  itch  had  given  his  son 
two  thousand  rubles,  and  although  he  generally  disliked  to 
speak  of  his  pecuniary  diiiiculties,  had  told  him  that  he  could 
not  have  any  more  till  May,  and  therefore  begged  him  for  this 
once,  to  be  rather  economical.  Nikolai  had  told  him  that 
that  would  be  amply  sufficient,  and  gave  him  his  word  of 
honor  not  to  ask  for  any  more  money  till  spring. 

And  now  out  of  that  sum,  only  twelve  hundred  rubles  were 
left.  Of  course  that  seven  of  hearts  if  he  lost  on  it,  would 
signify  not  only  the  loss  of  sixteen  hundred  rubles,  but  also 
the  necessity  of  breaking  his  word  to  his  father.  With  heart 
sinking  therefore,  he  watched  Dolokhofs  hands  and  said  to 
himself,  — 

"  Now  let  him  hurry  up  and  give  me  this  card,  and  I  will 
put  on  my  cap  and  go  home  to  supper  with  Denisof,  Natasha, 
and  Sonya,  and  truly  I  will  never  as  long  as  I  live,  take  a 
card  into  my  hands  again." 

At  that  instant  his  home  life,  his  romps  with  Petya,  his 
talks  with  Sonya,  his  duets  with  Natasha,  his  game  of  piquet 
with  his  father,  and  even  his  peaceful  bed  in  his  home  on  the 
Pavarskaya,  eame  over  him  with  such  force  and  vividness  and 
attraction,  that  it  seemed  to  him  like  an  inestimable  bliss, 
that  had  passed  and  been  destroyed  forever. 

He  could  not  bring  himself  to  believe  that  blind  chance,  by 


WAk  AND  PEACE.  66 

throwing  the  seven  of  hearts  to  the  right  rather  than  to  the 
left,  might  deprive  him  of  all  this  just  comprehended  and 
just  appreciated  happiness,  and  plunge  him  into  the  abjss  of 
a  wretchedness  never  before  experienced,  and  of  which  he 
bad  no  adequate  idea.  It  could  not  be  so,  and  yet  with  a  fever 
of  expectation,  he  watched  every  motion  of  Dolokhof 's  hands. 
Those  coarse  reddish  hands  with  wide  knuckles  and  hairy 
wrists,  showing  from  under  his  shirt  bands,  laid  down  the 
pack  of  cards,  and  took  up  the  champagne  glass  that  had  been 
handed  him,  and  put  his  pipe  in  his  mouth. 

"  And  so  you  are  not  afraid  to  play  with  me  ?  "  repeated 
Dolokhof,  and  as  though  for  the  purpose  of  telling  some 
humorous  story  he  laid  down  the  cards,  leaned  back  in  his 
chair,  and  with  a  smile  deliberately  began  to  speak,  — 

"  Yes,  gentlemen,  I  have  been  told  that  there  is  a  report 
current  in  Moscow,  that  I  am  a  sharper,  and  so  I  advise  you 
to. be  on  your  guard  against  me." 

*'  Ck)me  now,  deal  ahead ! "  said  Bostof. 

'^Okh!  these  Moscow  grannies!"  exclaimed  Dolokhof,  and 
with  a  smile  he  took  up  the  cards. 

'^  Aaaakh  I "  almost  screamed  Rostof,  clasping  his  head  with 
both  hands.  The  seven  which  he  needed  already  lay  on  top, 
the  very  first  card  in  the  pack.  He  had  lost  more  than  he 
eonld  pay. 

'*  I  wouldn't  ruin  myself  I "  said  Dolokhof,  giving  Rostof  a 
passing  glance,  and  proceeded  to  shuffle  the  cards. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

During  the  next  hour  and  a  half,  the  majority  of  the  gam- 
blers watched  with  much  amusement  their  own  play. 

The  whole  interest  of  the  game  centred  on  Rostof  alone. 
Instead  of  the  sixteen  hundred  rubles  there  was  already  a 
long  column  of  figures  which  he  had  reckoned  to  be  at  least 
ten  thousand  rubles,  and  which  he  now  vaguely  imagined  to 
be  perhaps  fifteen  thousand.  In  reality  the  sums  footed  up 
to  more  than  twenty  thousand  rubles. 

Dolokhof  no  longer  listened  to  stories  or  told  them  himself ; 
he  watched  each  motion  of  Rostofs  hands,  and  occasionally  cast 
hasty  glances  at  the  paper  containing  Rostofs  indebtedness. 
He  had  made  up  his  mind  to  keep  him  playing  until  his  losses 
should  reach  forty-three  thousand  rubles.     He  had  selected 


56  WAk  AND  PEACE. 

this  number  because  forty-three  represented  the  sum  of  his 
and  Sonya's  ages. 

Kostof,  supporting  his  head  in  both  hands,  sat  in  front  of 
the  table,  now  all  marked  up  with  chalk,  wet  with  wine,  and 
littered  with  cards.  One  special  impression  was  pauifal,  but 
it  did  not  restrain  him :  those  wide-jointed,  red  hands  with 
the  hairy  wrists,  those  hands  which  he  loved  and  which  he 
also  hated,  held  him  in  their  power. 

<^Six  hundred  rubles,  ace,  quarter^akes,  nine  spot  —  im- 
possible to  win  it  back  —  and  how  gay  it  is  at  home !  —  Knave 
on  five — it  cannot  be. — And  why  is  he  treating  me  so?" 
thought  Eostof,  and  he  remembered. 

Sometimes*  he  staked  on  a  card  a  large  sum,  but  Dolokhof 
refused  to  accept  it,-  and  himself  named  a  lower  figure. 
Nikolai  would  submit,  and  then  pray  Ood,  just  as  he  had 
prayed  on  the  battle-field  at  the  bridge  of  Amstetten;  then 
it  would  occur  to  him,  that  perhaps  the  first  card  that  he 
should  draw  from  the  pile  of  rejected  cards  on  the  table  would 
save  him  ;  then  he  would  count  up  the  number  of  buttons  on 
his  jacket,  and  select  a  card  with  the  same  number  on  which 
to  stake  the  double  of  what  he  had  already  lost ;  then  again, 
he  would  look  for  aid  to  the  other  players,  or  glance  into 
Dolokhof  s  face,  now  so  stern  and  cold,  and  try  to  read  what 
was  passing  in  his  mind. 

''  Of  course  he  knows  what  this  loss  means  for  me.  It  can- 
not be  that  he  desires  me  to  lose  like  this.  F6r  he  was  mj 
friend.  For  I  loved  him.  But  of  course  it  isn't  his  fault ; 
how  can  he  help  it  if  luck  favors  him  ?  And  neither  am  I  to 
blame,"  said  he  to  himself.  ''I  have  done  nothing  wrong. 
Have  I  killed  any  one,  or  insulted  any  one,  or  wished  any  one 
evil  ?  Why,  then,  this  horrible  misfortune  ?  And  when  did 
it  begin  ?  It  was  only  such  a  short  time  ago  that  I  came  to 
this  table  with  the  idea  of  winning  a  hundred  rubles,  so  as  to 
buy  for  mamma's  birthday  that  jewel  box,  and  then  go  home.  1 
was  so  happy,  so  free  from  care,  so  gay !  And  I  did  not  real- 
ize then  how  happy  I  was !  When  did  it  all  end,  and  when  did 
this  new,  this  horrible  state  of  things  begin  ?  What  does  this 
change  signify  ?  And  here  I  am,  just  the  same  as  before,  sitting 
in  the  same  place  at  his  table,  choosing  and  moving  the  same 
cards,  and  looking  at  those  wide-knuckled,  dexterous  hands. 
When  did  this  take  place,  and  what  is  it  that  has  taken  place? 
I  am  well,  strong,  and  just  the  same  as  I  was,  and  in  the  self- 
same place !  No,  it  cannot  be  I  Surely,  this  cannot  end  in  such 
a  way  I " 


WAR  AHt>  pnAce.  67 

His  face  was  flushed,  lie  was  all  of  a  sweat,  in  spite  of  the 
fact  that  it  was  not  waim  in  the  room.  And  his  f%ee  was  ter- 
rible and  pitiable,  especially  on  account  of  his  futile  efforts  to 
seem  composed. 

The  list  of  his  losses  was  nearing  the  fatal  number  of  forty- 
three  thousand.  Eostof  had  turned  down  the  corner  of  a  card 
as  the  quarter-stakes  for  three  thousand  rubles,  which  he  had 
jast  won,  when  Dolokhof,  rapping  with  the  pack,  flung  it  down, 
and  taking  the  lump  of  chalk  began  swiftly  to  reckon  up  the 
smn  total  of  Eostof 's  losses,  with  his  firm,  legible  figures, 
breaking  the  chalk  as  he  did  so. 

'*  If  s  time  for  supper,  and  here  are  the  Tsigans  ! " 

It  was  a  fact :  at  that  moment  a  number  of  dark-skinned 
men  and  women  came  in,  bringing  with  them  a  gust  of  cold 
air,  and  saying  something  in  their  gypsy  accent.  Nikolai 
realized  that  all  was  over;  but  he  said,  in  an  indifferent 
tone, — 

"What,  can't  we  play  any  more  ?  Ah,  but  I  had  a  splendid 
little  card  all  ready  ! "  Just  as  though  the  mere  amusement 
of  the  game  were  what  interested  him  the  most ! 

"All  is  over  !  I  have  lost ! "  was  what  he  thought.  "  Now 
a  bullet  through  my  brains  —  that's  all  that's  left,"  and  yet 
he  said  in  a  jocund  tone  :  "  Come  now,  just  this  one  card  !" 

"Very  well,"  replied  Dolokhof,  completing  the  sum  total, 
"Very  good!  Make  it  twenty-one  rubles  then,"  said  he  point- 
ing to  the  figures  twenty-one,  which  was  over  and  above  the 
round  sum  of  forty-three  thousand,  and  taking  up  the  pack  of 
cards,  he  began  to  shuffle  them.  Eostof  obediently  turned  back 
the  comer,  and  instead  of  the  six  thousand  which  he  was  going 
to  wager,  carefully  wrote  twenty-one. 

"  It's  all  the  same  to  me  I "  said  he,  "  all  I  wanted  to  know 
was  whether  you  would  give  me  the  ten  or  not." 

Dolokhof  gravely  began  to  deal.  Oh,  how  Eostof  at  that 
moment  hated  those  red  hands,  with  the  short  fingers  and  the 
hairy  wrists  emerging  from  his  shirt  bands,  those  hands  that 
had  him  in  their  grasp !    The  ten  spot  fell  to  him. 

"  Well,  you  owe  me  just  forty-three  thousand,  count,"  said 
Dolokhof,  getting  up  from  the  table  and  stretching  himself. 
"One  gets  tired  sitting  still  so  long,"  he  added. 

"  Yes,  I  am  very  tired,  also,"  said  Eostof. 

Dolokhof,  as  though  to  remind  him  that  it  was  not  seemly 
to  jest,  interrupted  him, — 

"  When  do  you  propose  to  pay  me  this  money,  count  ?  " 

Eostof,  coloring  with  shame,  drew  Dolokhof  into  another 


68  WAR  AND  PEACE, 

room.  ^'  I  cannot  pay  you  at  such  short  notice,  you  must  take 
my  I.O.U.,"  said  he. 

"  Listen,  Rostof,"  said  Dolokhof,  with  a  candid  smile,  "you 
know  the  proverb  :  *  Lucky  in  love,  unlucky  at  cards.'  Your 
cousin  is  in  love  with  you,  I  know." 

"  Oh  !  how  horrible  it  is  to  be  in  this  man's  power,"  thought 
Bostof.  He  realized  what  a  blow  it  would  be  to  his  father,  to 
his  mother,  to  learn  that  he  had  been  gambling  and  losing  so 
much.  He  realized  what  happiness  it  would  be  if  he  could 
only  have  avoided  doing  it,  or  could  escape  confessing  it,  and 
he  realized  that  Dolokhof  knew  how  easily  he  might  save  him 
from  this  shame  and  pain,  and  yet,  here  he  was  playing  with 
him  as  a  cat  plays  with  a  mouse. 

"  Your  cousin,"  Dolokhof  started  to  say ;  but  Nikolai  in- 
terrupted him. 

'<  My  cousin  has  nothing  to  do  with  this,  and  there  is  no 
need  of  bringing  her  in,"  he  cried,  in  a  fury. 

"  Then  when  will  you  pay  me  ?  "  demanded  Dolokhof. 

''  To-morrow,"  replied  Rostof,  and  he  left  the  room. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

To  say  'to-morrow,'  and  to  preserve  the  conventional  tone 
of  decency,  was  easy  enough ;  but  to  go  home  alone,  to  see  his 
brother  and  sisters,  his  father  and  mother,  to  confess  his  fault 
and  ask  for  money  to  which  he  had  no  right,  after  giving  his 
word  of  honor,  was  horrible. 

When  Nikolai  reached  home,  the  family  were  still  up.  The 
young  people  on  their  return  from  the  theatre  had  had  supper, 
and  were  now  sitting  at  the  harpsichord.  As  soon  as  he 
entered  the  room  he  felt  himself  surrounded  by  that  poetical 
atmosphere  of  love  which  had  reigned  all  winter  in  that  home, 
and  which,  now,  after  Dolokhofs  proposal  and  logel's  ball^ 
had  seemed  to  condense  around  Sonya  and  Natasha,  like  the 
air  before  a  thunderstorm.  Sonya  and  Natasha  were  in  the 
blue  gowns  whicli  they  had  worn  to  the  theatre.  Pretty,  and 
realizing  that  fact,  they  stood  happy  and  smiling  around  the 
liarpsichord.  Viera  and  Shiiishin  were  playing  checkers  in 
the  drawing-room.  The  old  countess,  waiting  for  her  son  and 
husband,  was  laying  out  a  game  of  solitaire  with  the  aid  of 
an  old  noblewoman  who  made  her  home  in  their  family. 
Denisof,  with  shining  eyes  rolled  up,  and  bristling  hair,  sat  at 
the  harpsichord  with  one  leg  thrust  out  behind  him,  and  while 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  69 

dninuning  out  the  accompaniment  with  his  little,  short  fin- 
gers, was  singing  in  his  thin,  hoarse,  but  eminently  true  voice, 
some  verses  that  he  had  composed  under  the  title  <^The 
Enchantress,"  and  to  which  he  was  trying  to  suit  appro- 
priate music,  — 

"  Enchantress,  tell  what  potent  charm  thou  swayest, 
That  to  unwonted  chords  my  spirit  tends  ? 

What  magic  fire  within  my  heart  thou  layest  ? 

What  rapture  thrills  me  to  my  fingers'  ends  ?  " 

He  sang  in  a  passionate  voice,  and  fixed  his  bright,  black, 
agate-colored  eyes  on  Natasha. 

"  Lovely  !  delightful !  "  cried  she.  "  Still  another  verse," 
she  urged,  not  yet  perceiving  Nikolai. 

"  With  them,  it  is  just  the  same,"  said  the  poor  boy,  look- 
ing into  the  drawing-room  Nwhere  he  saw  his  mother  and  the 
old  lady. 

"Ah  I  and  here  is  Nikolenka ! "  cried  Natasha,  running  to  him. 

*^  Is  papenka  at  home  ?  "  he  demanded. 

"  How  glad  I  am  that  you  have  come  !  "  exclaimed  Natasha, 
not  answering  his  question.  '^  We  are  having  such  a  jolly  time  ; 
Yasili  Dmitritch  is  going  to  stay  another  day,  just  for  my 
sake ;  did  you  know  it  ?  " 

"  No,  papa  hasn't  come  home  yet,"  said  Sonya. 

"  Koko,  have  you  come  ?  Come  here,  dear ! "  cried  the 
countess  from  the  drawing-room.  Nikolai  went  to  his  mother, 
kissed  her  hand,  and,  without  saying  a  word,  took  a  seat  near 
her  table  and  began  to  watch  her  hands  as  she  laid  out  the 
cards.  From  the  music  room  they  could  hear  the  sounds  of 
laoghter,  and  merry  voices  trying  to  persuade  Natasha. 

"  Well,  very  good,  very  good,"  exclaimed  Denisof .  "  Now 
there^s  no  denying  you  anything ;  but  it's  your  turn  !  Give  us 
the  barcaroUa,  I  beg  of  you ! " 

The  countess  noticed  her  son's  silence, — 

"  What's  the  matter  with  you  ?  "  she  asked. 

'^  Akh,  nothing,"  said  he,  as  though  he  had  heard  the  same 
question  till  he  was  weary  of  it.  "  Will  papenka  be  back 
soon  ?  " 

"  I  think  so." 

"  They  are  the  same  as  ever.  They  know  nothing  about  it. 
Where  can  I  hide  myself  ?  "  thought  Nikolai,  and  he  went 
again  into  the  music-room  where  the  harpsichord  stood. 

Sonya  was  sitting  at  it  and  playing  the  introduction  to  the 
barcarole  which  was  Penisofs  especial  favorite.  Natasha  was 


60  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

preparing  to  'sing.  Denisof  was  looking  at  her  with  enthusi- 
astic eyes. 

Nikolai  began  to  pace  up  and  down  the  room.  "  Now  why 
should  they  want  to  make  her  sing?  What  can  she  sing? 
There's  nothing  here  to  make  a  fellow  feel  happy ! "  ran 
Nikolai's  thoughts. 

Sonya  stnick  the  first  chord  of  the  introduction. 

"My  God,  I  am  a  ruined,  dishonorable  man!  A  bullet 
through  my  brain,  that  is  the  only  thing  left  for  me,  and  not 
singing !  "  his  thoughts  went  on.  "  Gk)  away !  But  where  ? 
Very  well,  let  them  sing  !  " 

Nikolai  continued  gloomily  to  stride  up  and  down  the  room, 
glancing  at  Denisof  and  the  girls,  but  avoiding  their  eyes. 

"  Nikolenka,  what  is  the  matter  ?  "  Sonya's  eyes,  fixed  up- 
on him,  seemed  to  ask.  She  had  immediately  seen  that  some- 
thing unusual  had  happened  to  him. 

Nikolai  turned  away  from  her.  Natasha  also,  with  her 
quickness  of  perception,  had  instantly  noticed  her  brother's 
preoccupation.  She  had  observed  it,  but  she  felt  so  full  of 
merriment  at  that  time,  her  mood  was  so  far  removed  from 
grief,  melancholy,  and  reproaches,  that  (as  often  happens  in 
the  case  of  young  girls)  she  purposely  deceived  herself. 

"No,  I'm  too  happy  now  to  disturb  my  joy  by  trying  to  sym- 
pathize in  the  unhappiness  of  another,"  was  her  feeling,  and 
she  said  to  herself :  "  No,  I  am,  of  course,  mistaken ;  he  must 
be  as  happy  as  I  am !  it  must  be  that  he  is  as  happy  as  I  am 
myself.  Now,  Sonya,"  said  she,  and  she  started  to  go  to 
the  very  middle  of  the  music-room,  where,  in  her  opinion, 
her  voice  would  have  the  most  resonance.  Lifting  her  head, 
and  letting  her  hands  hang  easily  by  her  side,  just  as  ballet 
dancers  do,  Natasha,  with  a  fine  display  of  energy,  skipping 
from  her  little  heels  to  her  tiptoes,  flew  out  into  the  middle 
of  the  room,  and  there  paused.  "  See  what  a  girl  I  am ! "  she 
seemed  to  say,  in  answer  to  Donisof's  enthusiastic  eyes  fol- 
lowing her. 

"Now,  what  is  she  so  happy  about,  I  wonder?"  queried 
Nikolai,  as  he  glanced  at  his  sister.  "And  how  can  it  be  that 
she  isn't  tired  to  death  of  it  all  ?  " 

Natasha  took  the  first  note,  her  throat  swelled,  her  bosom 
rose,  her  eyes  assumed  a  serious  expression.  She  thought  of 
no  one,  of  nothing  in  particular  at  that  moment,  and  from  the 
smiling  mouth  gushed  the  sounds,  those  sounds  which  may 
proceed  in  the  same  tempo  and  with  the  same  rhythm,  but 
which  a  thousand  times  leave  you  cold  and  unmoved,  and  the 
thousand  and  first  time  make  you  tremble  and  weep. 


WAR  AND  PEACE,  61 

Natasha  that  winter  had  for  the  first  time  begun  to  take 
singing  seriously,  and  in  large  measure  because  Denisof  had 
been  so  enthusiastic  over  her  yoice.  She  sang  now  not  like 
a  school-girl,  nor  was  there  in  her  singing  anything  of  that 
ludicrous,  childish  effort  which  had  formerly  been  characteristic 
of  her.  She  still  sang  far  from  well,  as  all  the  connoisseurs  who 
had  heard  her  declared.  ''  JSTot  developed  yet,  but  still  a  lovely 
voice ;  she  ought  to  cultivate  it,"  said  every  one.  But  this 
was  said  generally  some  time  after  the  sounds  of  her  voice 
had  entirely  died  away.  While  this,  as  yet,  untrained  voice, 
breathing  in  the  wrong  places,  and  finding  it  difficult  to  con- 
quer rapid  runs,  was  ringing  out,  even  connoisseurs  found  noth- 
ing to  say,  but  felt  themselves  unexpectedly  moved  by  it,  and 
only  anxious  to  hear  it  again.  In  her  voice  there  was  a 
girlish  sensitiveness,  an  unconsciousness  of  its  own  powers, 
and  an  untrained  velvetyness,  which  were  combined  with  the 
lack  of  knowledge  of  the  art  of  singing  in  such  a  way  that  it 
seemed  as  if  it  would  be  impossible  to  change  anything  in 
that  voice  without  ruining  it. 

''  What  does  this  mean  ?  "  queried  Nikolai,  as  he  listened  to 
her  voice  and  opened  his  eyes  wide.  '^  What  has  come  over 
her  ?  How  she  sings  to-day  ?  "  he  said  to  himself.  And  sud- 
denly all  the  world  for  him  was  concentrated  on  the  expectar 
tion  of  the  following  note,  the  succeeding  phrase,  and  every 
thing  in  the  world  was  divided  into  those  three  beats  :  '^  OA, 
vUo  erudele  affetto  "  — one  —  two  — three ;  one  —  two  —  three 
— one  —  two !  "  oh,  mio  ertidele  affetto  "  —  one  —  two  —  three. 
'^£kh !  how  foolish  our  life  all  is  ! "  said  Nikolai  to  himself. 
^'  All  of  it,  and  our  wretchedness,  and  money,  and  Dolokhof, 
and  anger,  and  honor ;  it  is  all  rubbish,  and  this  is  the  only 
real  thing !  There,  Natasha  there  goluhchik  /  there  mdtushka  / 
Will  she  take  that  si  ?  Yes,  she's  taken  it.  Glory  to  God 
—  Slava  Bohu  I "  and  he  himself,  without  noticing  that  he 
was  singing,  struck  in  the  second  a  third  below,  in  order  to 
support  that  si. 

"  Good  heavens !  how  nice !  Did  I  take  it  right !  How 
splendid ! "  he  said  to  himself. 

Oh !  how  that  accord  vibrated !  and  how  all  that  was  best 
in  BostoFs  soul  came  up  to  the  surface.  And  this  was  some- 
thing independent  of  all  in  the  world,  and  higher  than  all  in 
the  world.  What,  in  comparison  with  this  were  his  losses, 
and  such  men  as  Dolokhof,  and  his  word  of  honor !  All  rub- 
bish.   One  might  kill  and  rob  and  still  be  happy  I 


62  WAR  AND  PEACE. 


CHAPTER  XVI, 

It  was  long  since  Rostof  had  experienced  any  such  delight 
from  music  as  he  did  that  night.  But  as  soon  as  Natasha  had 
finished  her  bacarole,  the  grim  reality  again  came  back  to  him. 
Without  saying  a  word  to  any  one,  he  left  the  room  and  went 
up  to  his  own  chamber.  Within  a  quarter  of  an  hour  the  old 
count  came  in  from  the  club,  gay  and  satisfied.  Nikolai,  find- 
ing that  he  had  come,  went  to  his  room. 

"  Well,  have  you  been  having  a  pleasant  day  ?  "  asked  Ilya 
Andreyitch,  smiling  gayly  and  proudly  at  his  son.  Nikolai 
wanted  to  say  "yes,"  but  he  found  it  impossible:  it  was 
as  much  as  he  could  do  to  keep  from  bursting  into  tears. 
The  count  began  to  puff  at  his  pipe,  and  did  not  perceive  his 
son's  state  of  mind. 

"Ekh  !  it  can't  be  avoided,"  said  Nikolai  to  himself,  for  the 
first  and  last  time.  And  suddenly,  in  a  negligent  tone  which 
seemed  to  himself  utterly  shameful,  he  said  to  his  father,  jost 
as  though  he  were  asking  for  the  carriage  to  drive  down  town,— 

"  Papa,  I  came  to  speak  to  you  about  business.  I  had  for- 
gotten all  about  it.    I  need  some  money." 

"  What's  that  ?  "  said  the  father,  who  had  come  home  in  a 
peculiarly  good-natured  frame  of  mind.  "  I  told  you  that  you 
wouldn't  have  enough.     Do  you  need  much  ?  " 

"  Ever  so  much,"  said  Nikolai  reddening,  and  with  a  stupid, 
careless  smile  which  it  was  long  before  he  could  pardon  him- 
self for.  "  I  have  been  losing  a  little ;  that  is,  considerable ;  I 
might  say  a  great  deal  —  forty-three  thousand." 

"  What  ?  To  whom  ?  You  are  joking ! "  cried  the  count, 
flushing,  just  as  elderly  men  are  apt  to  flush,  with  an  apoplec- 
tic rush  of  blood  coloring  his  neck  and  the  back  of  his  head. 

"  I  promised  to  pay  it  to-morrow,"  continued  Nikolai. 

"  Well ! "  said  the  old  count,  spreading  his  hands  and  falling 
helplessly  back  upon  the  sofa.. 

**  What's  to  be  done  ?  It's  what  might  happen  to  any  one !" 
said  the  son  in  a  free-and-easy  tone  of  banter,  while  all  the 
time  in  his  heart  he  was  calling  himself  a  worthless  coward, 
who  could  not  atone  by  his  whole  life  for  such  a  thing.  He 
felt  an  impulse  to  kiss  his  father's  hands,  to  fall  on  his  knees 
and  beg  his  forgiveness,  but  still  he  assured  his  father  in  that 
careless  and  even  coarse  tone,  that  this  was  a  thing  liable  to 
happen  to  any  one  !  " 

Count  Ilya  Andreyitch  dropped  his  eyes  when  he  heard  his 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  68 

son's  words,  and  fidgeted  about,  as  though  he  were  trying  to 
find  something. 

"Yes,  yes,"  he  murmured,  "  it'll  be  hard  work,  I  am  afraid 
~-  hard  work  to  raise  so  much ;  it  happens  to  every  one,  yes, 
jes,  it  happens  to  every  one." 

And  the  count,  with  a  feeling  glance  at  his  son's  face,  started 
to  leave  the  room.  Nikolai  was  prepared  for  a  refusal,  but  he 
had  never  expected  this. 

"Fapenka  !  Papenka  !  "  he  cried,  hastening  after  him  with 
a  sob,  "  forgive  me ! "  and  seizing  his  father's  hand,  he  pressed 
it  to  his  lips  and  burst  into  tears. 

While  father  and  son  were  having  this  conversation,  a  no- 
less-important  confession  was  taking  place  between  the  mother 
aod  daughter.  Natasha,  in  great  excitement,  had  run  in  where 
her  mother  was. 

'^  Mamma !  mamma !  He  has  done  it ! " 

"Done  what?" 

"He  has  done  it!  He  has  made  me  an  offer;  mamma! 
mamma !  "  she  cried. 

The  countess  did  not  believe  her  ears.  Denisof  made  a  pro- 
posal !  To  whom  ?  To  this  little  chit  of  a  Natasha,  who  only 
a  short  time  since  was  playing  with  her  dolls,  and  even  now 
was  only  a  school-girl. 

"  Natasha !  Come  now  !  No  nonsense  ! "  said  she,  still  hop- 
ing that  it  was  a  joke. 

"Why  do  you  say  'nonsense.'  I  tell  you  just  as  it  is," said 
Natasha,  indignantly.  "  I  came  to  ask  you  what  I  should  do 
about  it,  and  you  call  it  *  nonsense.'  " 

The  countess  shrugged  her  shoulders:  ''If  it  is  true  that 
Monsieur  Denisof  has  made  you  an  offer,  then  tell  him  that  he 
is  a  fool,  and  that's  all  there  is  of  it !  " 

"  No,  he  is  not  a  fool,"  replied  Natasha,  in  a  grave  and  of- 
fended tone. 

"  Well  then,  what  do  you  wish  ?  It  seems  to  me  that  these 
days  all  of  you  are  falling  in  love.  Well,  if  you  love  him, 
then  marry  him,"  exclaimed  the  countess,  with  an  angry 
laagh.    "  Grood  luck  to  you ! " 

"No,  mamma,  I'm  not  in  love  with  him ;  it  can't  be  that  I 
am!" 

"  Well,  then,  go  and  tell  him  so  ! " 

"  Mamma,  are  you  annoyed  ?  Don't  be  annoyed,  sweetheart,* 
now  wherein,  I  should  like  to  know,  was  I  to  blame  ?  " 

*  Golubu9hka. 


64  W^R  AND  PEACE. 

"  No,  but  what  do  you  wish,  my  dear  ?  Shall  I  go  and  tell 
him  ?  "  asked  the  countess,  smiling. 

"Certainly  not,  I  will  answer  him  myself,  only  tell  me 
what  to  say.  Everything  comes  so  easy  to  you,"  she  added, 
with  an  answering  smile.  "  And  if  you  had  only  seen  how  he 
said  it  to  me !  For,  do  you  know,  I  am  sure  that  he  did  not 
mean  to  say  it,  but  it  came  out  accidentally." 

**  Well,  it  behooves  you,  at  all  events,  to  refuse  him." 

"  No,  not  refuse  him !  I  feel  so  sorry  for  him  !  He  is  such 
a  nice  man  ! " 

"  Well,  then,  accept  his  proposal.  Indeed,  it  is  time  you 
were  married,"  exclaimed  her  mother,  in  a  sharp,  derisive 
tone. 

"  No,  mamma,  I  pity  him  so.  I  don't  know  how  to  tell 
him ! " 

"  Well  then,  if  you  can't  find  anything  to  say,  I  myself  will 
go  and  speak  with  him,"  said  the  countess,  stirred  to  the  soul 
that  any  one  should  dare  to  look  upon  her  little  Natasha  as 
already  grown  up. 

"  No,  not  for  anything ;  I  will  tell  him  myself,  and  you  may 
listen  at  the  door,"  and  Natasha  started  to  run  through  the 
drawing-room  into  the  music-room  where  Denisof  was  still  sit- 
ting on  the  same  chair  by  the  harpsichord  with  his  face  in  his 
hands.     He  sprang  up  the  moment  he  heard  her  light  steps. 

"Natalie,"  said  he,  going  toward  her  with  quick  steps,  "de- 
cide my  fate.     It  is  in  your  hands. " 

"  Vasili  Dmitritch,  I  am  so  sorry  for  you.  Oh !  but  you  are 
so  splendid.  No,  it  cannot  be ;  it  is  —  but  I  shall  always, 
always  love  you." 

Denisof  bent  over  her  hand,  and  she  heard  strange  sounds 
which  she  could  not  understand.  She  kissed  him  on  his  dark, 
curly,  disordered  hair.  At  this  instant,  was  heard  the  hurried 
rustle  of  the  countess's  dress.     She  came  toward  them. 

"  Vasili  Dmitritch,  I  thank  you  for  the  honor,"  said  the  count- 
ess in  a  troubled  tone  of  voice,  which  seemed  to  Denisof  to  be 
stern.  "But  my  daughter  is  so  young,  and  I  should  have 
thought  that  you,  as  a  friend  of  my  son's,  would  have  addressed 
me  first.  In  that  case  you  might  not  have  forced  me  to  such 
an  unavoidable  refusal." 

"  Countess,"  said  Denisof,  with  downcast  eyes,  and  a  guilty 
look,  and  vainly  trying  to  stammer  something  more. 

Natasha  could  not  look  with  any  composure  upon  him,  it 
was  so  pitiable  to  see  him.     She  began  to  sob  aloud. 

"  Countess,  I  have  done  w'ong,"  at  last  he  managed  to  artic- 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  65 

ulate  in  a  broken  voice.  "  But  pway  believe  me,  I  adore  your 
(laughter  and  all  your  family,  and  I  would  gladly  sacwifice  my 
life  twice  over  for  you."  He  looked  up  at  the  countess,  and 
seeing  her  stern  face,  "Well,  good-by  countess,"  he  added, 
and  kissing  her  hand  and  not  even  looking  at  Natasha^  he  left 
the  room  with  quick,  resolute  steps. 

Rostof  spent  the  next  day  with  Denisof,  who  would  not  hear 
to  staying  any  longer  in  Moscow.  AU  his  Moscow  friends 
gave  him  a  send-off,  with  the  aid  of  the  gypsies,  and  he  had 
no  recollection  of  how  he  was  packed  into  his  sledge,  or  how 
he  rode  the  first  three  stages. 

After  Denisof's  departure,  Rostof  spent  a  fortnight  longer 
at  home,  waiting  for  the  money  which  the  old  count  was  unable 
to  raise  at  such  short  notice ;  he  did  not  leave  the  house,  and 
spent  most  of  the  time  with  the  girls. 

Sonya  was  more  affectionate  and  devoted  to  him  than  ever. 
It  seemed  as  if  she  were  anxious  to  show  him  that  his  gam- 
bling losses  were  quite  an  exploit,  for  which  she  could  only 
love  him  the  more,  but  Nikolai  now  felt  that  he  was  un- 
worthy of  her. 

He  filled  the  girls'  albums  with  verses  and  music,  and  at 
last,  toward  the  end  of  November,  after  paying  over  the  forty- 
three  thousand  rubles,  and  receiving  Dolokhof's  receipt  for  it, 
be  started  away  without  taking  leave  of  any  of  his  acquain- 
tances, to  rejoin  his  regiment  which  was  now  in  Poland. 


VOT*.  2.  —  5. 


PART    SECOND. 
CHAPTER  I. 

After  his  scene  with  his  wife,  Pierre  went  to  Petersburg. 
At  the  post  station  at  Torzhok,  there  were  no  horses,  or  the 
station  master  took  it  into  his  head  not  to  famish  them. 
Pierre  was  obliged  to  wait.  Without  undressing,  he  stretched 
himself  out  on  the  leather  divan  before  a  circular  table,  on 
which  he  supported  his  big  feet,  in  fur-lined  boots,  and  pon- 
dered. 

"  Do  you  order  the  trunks  brought  in  ?  Shall  I  make  up  a 
bed  ?  do  you  wish  tea  ?  "  asked  his  valet. 

Pierre  made  no  answer,  for  the  reason  that  he  heard  noth- 
ing, and  saw  nothing.  He  had  begun  to  ponder  while  at  the 
last  station,  and  still  he  went  on,  propounding  the  same  ques- 
tions, quite  too  important  for  him  to  pay  any  attention  to  what 
was  going  on  around  him.  He  was  not  in  the  least  interested 
whether  he  reached  Petersburg  sooner  or  later,  or  whether  or 
not  they  found  him  a  place  to  sleep  that  night  at  the  station: 
everything  indeed  was  immaterial  in  comparison  with  the 
thoughts  that  were  now  occupying  his  mind,  and  it  made  no 
diiference  whether  he  spent  a  few  hours  or  his  whole  life  at 
this  station. 

The  station-master,  the  station-master's  wife,  his  valet,  an 
old  woman  who  sold  Torzhok  embroidery,  came  into  the  room 
and  offered  their  services. 

Pierre,  not  changing  the  elevated  position  of  his  feet,  looked 
at  them  over  his  spectacles,  and  did  not  comprehend  what 
they  could  want,  or  how  they  could  live  without  having  de- 
cided the  questions  which  were  troubling  him.  He  had  in- 
deed been  occupied  by  the  same  questions  perpetually  ever 
since  that  day  when  after  his  duel  he  had  returned  home  from 
Sokolniki,  and  spent  the  first  painful,  sleepless  night;  but 
now,  in  his  solitary  journey,  they  took  possession  of  him  with 
inexorable  force.  Whatever  he  began  to  think  about,  still  his 
mind  reverted  to  these  problems  which  he  could  not  solve, 
and  could  not  help  asking  himself.     It  was  as  though  the 

66 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  67 

principal  screw  on  which  his  whole  life  depended  had  got 
sprang.  The  screw  stays  where  it  is  ;  it  does  not  give  way, 
but  it  turns  without  the  thread  catching,  always  in  the  same 
fillet,  and  it  is  impossible  to  stop  turning  it. 

The  station-master  came  in  and  began  obsequiously  to  ask 
his  illustriousness  to  deign  to  wait  only  two  "  little  hours,"  and 
then  he  could  have  for  his  illustriousness,  come  what  would, 
post  horses  for  his  service.  The  station-master  was  evidently 
lying,  and  his  sole  idea  was  to  get  as  much  money  as  possible 
horn  the  traveller. 

"  Is  this  right,  or  is  it  wrong  ?  "  Pierre  asked  himself.  "  As 
far  as  I  am  concerned,  it  is  good,  but  is  bad  for  the  next  trav- 
eller ;  but  the  station-master  can't  help  himself  doing  so,  be- 
cause he  has  nothing  to  eat ;  he  told  me  that  some  officer  had 
given  him  a  thrashing  because  of  it.  But  perhaps  the  officer 
thrashed  him  because  it  was  necessary  for  him  to  hasten  away. 
And  I  shot  at  Dolokhof  because  I  considered  myself  insulted, 
and  Louis  XYI.  was  beheaded  because  he  was  convicted  as  a 
criminal;  but  within  a  year  those  who  had  beheaded  him  were 
also  put  to  death  for  something  or  other.  What  is  wrong  ? 
What  is  right  ?  What  must  one  love  ?  What  must  one  hate  ? 
What  is  the  object  of  life,  and  what  am  I  ?  What  is  life,  and 
what  is  death  ?  What  is  the  Power  that  directs  all  things  ?  " 
he  asked  himself.  And  there  was  no  answer  to  any  one  of 
the  questions,  except  the  one,  the  illogical  answer  which  did 
not  in  reality  lit  any  of  these  questions. 

This  answer  was :  "  Thou  shalt  die  —  all  will  come  to  an 
end !    Thou  shalt  die  and  know  all,  or  else  cease  to  question." 

But  the  mere  thought  of  death  was  terrible  to  him. 

The  Torzhok  pedlar  woman,  in  her  piping  voice,  offered 
her  wares^  and  called  especial  attention  to  her  goatskin  slip- 
pers. 

"  I  have  hundreds  of  rubles  which  I  don't  know  what  to  do 
with,  and  she  in  her  ragged  sheepskin  stands  th^re  and  looks 
at  me  timidly,"  thought  Pierre.  "  And  what  good  would  this 
money  do  her  ?  Would  this  money  of  mine  add  the  value  of 
a  single  hair  to  her  happiness,  to  her  peace  of  mind  ?  Can 
anything  on  earth  make  her  or  me  in  the  least  degree  less 
susceptible  to  evil  and  death  ?  Death,  which  ends  all,  and 
which  may  come  to-day  or  to-morrow  :  everything  becomes  of 
equally  little  importance  in  comparison  with  eternity." 

And  once  more  he  tried  to  screw  up  the  screw  that  would 
not  hold,  and  the  screw,  as  before,  kept  turning  around  in  the 
selfisame  way. 


68  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

His  servant  brought  him  the  half-cut  volume  of  a  romance, 
in  the  form  of  letters  by  Madame  de  Souza.  He  began  to  lead 
of  the  sufferings  and  virtuous  resistance  of  the  heroine,  Am^lie 
de  Mansf  eld.  "  And  why  did  she  resist  her  seducer  if  she  loved 
him  ?  "  he  asked  himself.  "  God  could  not  have  put  into  her 
soul  a  desire  which  was  contrary  to  his  will.  My  former  wife 
made  no  struggle,  and  maybe  she  was  right.  Nothing  has 
ever  been  discovered,  nothing  ever  invented,"  said  Pierre  again 
to  himself.  *^  The  only  thing  that  we  can  know  is  that  we 
know  nothing,  and  this  is  the  highest  flight  of  liuman  wis- 
dom ! " 

Everything  within  him  and  around  him  seemed  confused, 
incoherent,  loathsome.  But,  nevertheless,  in  this  very  loath- 
ing of  everything,  Pierre  found  a  peculiar  sense  of  exasper- 
ating delight. 

'^  May  I  venture  to  ask  your  illustriousness  to  make  a  little 
room  for  this  gentleman  here  ? "  asked  the  station-master, 
coming  into  the  room  and  introducing  another  traveller,  de- 
layed also  by  the  lack  of  horses.  The  new  comer  was  a  thick- 
set, big-boned,  little  old  man,  yellow  and  wrinkled,  with  gray, 
beetling  brows  that  shaded  glittering  eyes  of  indefinable 
grayish  hue. 

Pierre  took  his  feet  from  the  table,  got  up  and  threw  him- 
self down  on  the  bed  that  had  been  made  ready  for  him, 
occasionally  glancing  at  the  stranger,  who,  with  an  air  of 
moroseness  and  fatigue,  without  paying  any  heed  to  Pierre, 
allowed  his  servant  to  help  him  lay  off  his  wraps. 

The  old  man  sat  down  on  the  sofa.  He  had  on  a  well-worn, 
nankeen-lined  sheepskin  jacket,  and  felt  boots  on  his  thin, 
bony  legs  ;  his  head  was  large,  and  very  broad  in  the  temples, 
and  his  hair  was  closely  cropped.  Sitting  thus,  and  leaning 
back  against  the  sofa,  he  glanced  at  Bezukhoi.  The  grave, 
intelligent,  and  penetrating  expression  of  his  glance  struck 
Pierre.  He  felt  an  inclination  to  converse  with  the  stranger, 
but  when  he  had  made  up  his  mind  to  address  him  with  some 
question  about  the  state  of  the  roads,  the  old  man  had  already 
closed  his  eyes,  and  was  sitting  motionless,  with  his  wrinkled 
old  hands  folded,  —  on  one  finger  he  wore  a  heavy,  cast-iron 
ring  with  a  death's  head  for  a  seal  —  and  was  either  dozing,  or, 
as  it  seemed  to  Pierre,  meditating  calmly  and  profoundly. 

The  stranger's  servant  was  also  a  little  old  man,  all  covered 
with  wrinkles,  without  mustache  or  beard,  not  because  they 
had  been  shaven,  but  because  they  seemed  never  to  have 
grown.     This  agile  old  servant  opened  the  travelling  case, 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  69 

prepared  the  tea  table,  and  brought  in  the  boiling  sainovar. 
When  all  was  ready,  the  stranger  opened  his  eyes,  drew  up  to 
the  table,  and  after  pouring  himself  out  a  glass  of  tea,  HUed 
another  for  his  beardless  servant,  and  handed  it  to  him. 

Pierre  began  to  feel  uneasy :  it  seemed  to  him  that  it  was 
unavoidable,  and  even  inevitable,  that  he  should  enter  into 
conversation  with  this  traveller. 

The  servant  brought  back  his  empty  glass,  turned  bottom 
side  up,  and  with  the  lump  of  sugar  untasted,  and  asked  his 
master  if  he  needed  anything. 

"Nothing.  Hand  me  my  book,"  said  the  stranger.  The 
servant  handed  him  a  book  which  Pierre  took  to  be  a  religious 
work,  and  the  traveller  buried  himself  in  his  reading.  Pierre 
looked  at  him.  Suddenly,  the  stranger  laid  down  his  book, 
put  a  mark  in  it  and  closed  it,  and  again  shutting  his  eyes  and 
leaning  back  against  the  sofa,  assumed  his  former  position. 
Pierre  gazed  at  him,  but  he  had  no  time  to  look  away  before 
the  old  man  opened  his  eyes  and  fastened  his  firm,  steady, 
stem  gaze  directly  on  Pierre's  face. 

Pierre  felt  confused,  and  anxious  to  escape  from  that  search- 
ing gaze,  but  those  brilliant  old  eyes  irresistibly  attracted  him 
to  them. 


CHAPTER  11. 

"If  I  am  not  mistaken,  I  have  the  pleasure  of  addressing 
Count  Bezukhoi,"  said  the  stranger,  in  a  loud  and  deliberate 
voice. 

Pierre,  without  speaking,  gave  his  neighbor  an  inquiring 
look  over  his  spectacles. 

"  I  have  heard  of  you,"  continued  the  traveller,  "  and  of  the 
misfortune  that  has  befallen  you,  my  dear  sir." 

He  seemed  to  lay  a  special  stress  on  the  word,  "  misfor- 
tune," as  much  as  to  say :  Yes,  misfortune,  whatever  you 
may  call  it,  for  I  know  that  what  happened  to  you  in  Moscow 
was  a  misfortune.  "  I  have  a  great  sympathy  for  you,  my 
dear  sir." 

Pierre  flushed,  and  hastily  putting  down  his  legs  from  the 
bed,  bent  toward  the  old  man,  smiling  with  a  timid  and  un- 
natural smile. 

"Not  from  mere  curiosity  do  I  remind  you  of  this,  my  dear 
sir,  but  for  a  much  more  important  reason." 

He  paused,  though  his  eyes  were  still  fixed  upon  Pierre,  and 


70  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

he  moved  along  on  the  sofa,  signifying  by  this  action  that 
Pierre  should  sit  down  by  his  side. 

It  was  not  particularly  agreeable  for  Pierre  to  enter  into 
conversation  with  this  old  man,  but  involuntarily  submitting, 
he  came  and  sat  down  by  his  side. 

"You  are  unhappy,  my  dear  sir,"  pursued  the  stranger, 
"  You  are  young,  I  am  old.  I  should  like,  so  far  as  within  me 
lies,  to  help  you." 

"  Akh !  yes ! "  replied  Pierre,  with  the  same  unnatural 
smile.  "  Thank  you,  very  much.  Have  you  been  traveling 
far  ?  " 

The  stranger's  face  was  not  genial :  on  the  contrary,  it  was 
even  cold  and  stem  ;  but,  nevertheless,  his  face  and  his  speech 
had  an  irresistible  attraction  for  Pieri-e. 

"  Now,  if  for  any  reason  it  is  disagreeable  for  you  to  talk 
with  me,"  said  the  old  man,  "  tell  me  frankly,  my  dear  sir." 
And  he  suddenly  smiled,  an  unexpected,  a  paternally  affection- 
ate smile. 

"  Akh  !  no,  not  at  all ;  on  the  contrary,  I  am  very  happy  to 
make  your  acquaintance,"  said  Pierre,  and  glancing  once  more 
at  his  new  acquaintance's  hand,  he  looked  more  carefully  at 
the  ring.  He  perceived  on  it  the  death's  head,  the  symbol  of 
Masonry. 

"Allow  me  to  ask,"  said  he,  " are  you  a  Mason  ?  " 

"  YeS;  I  belong  to  the  Brotherhood  of  the  Freemasons," 
said  the  traveller,  looking  deeper  and  ever  deeper  into  Pierre's 
eyes.  "  And  on  my  own  account  and  that  of  the  craft,  I  offer 
you  the  hand  of  fellowship." 

"J  fear,"  said  Pierre,  smiling,  and  hesitating  between  the 
confidence  inspired  in  him  by  the  Freemason's  personality  and 
his  slight  estimation,  which  he  shared  with  others,  of  the  doc- 
trines of  the  order.  "  T  fear  that  I  am  very  far  from  being 
able  to  express  myself ;  I  fear  that  my  whole  system  of  thought 
in  regard  to  the  world  in  general  is  so  opposite  to  yours,  th«it 
we  should  not  understand  each  other." 

"  I  know  your  system  of  thought,"  replied  the  Freemason, 
"  and  this  system  which  you  mention,  and  which  seems  to  you 
the  product  of  your  brain,  is  that  common  to  most  men ;  it  is 
uniformly  the  fruit. of  pride,  idleness,  and  ignorance.  Excuse 
me,  my  dear  sir,  if  I  had  not  known  this,  I  should  not  have 
addressed  you.     Your  system  of  thought  is  a  grievous  error." 

"  In  exactly  the  same  way,  I  can  imagine  that  it  is  you  who 
are  in  error,"  said  Pierre,  with  a  feeble  smile. 

"  I  never  venture  to  assert  that  T  know  the  truth,"  said  the 


WAR  AND  PEACE. 


71 


Mason,  more  and  more  impressing  Pierre  by  the  precision  and 
assurance  of  his  discourse.  "  No  one  can  alone  attain  to  the 
truth;  it  must  be  stone  upon  stone,  all  lending  their  aid,  mil- 
lions of  generations,  from  the  first  Adam  even  down  to  our 
day,  building  the  temple  which  is  destined  to  be  the  suitable 
abiding  place  for  the  Most  High  God,"  said  the  Mason,  and 
he  shut  his  eyes. 

"  I  must  tell  you,  I  do  not  believe  —  do  not  believe  in  God," 
said  Pierre,  with  an  effort,  and  a  sense  of  regret,  but  feeling 
it  indispensable  to  confess  the  whole  truth. 

The  Mason  looked  earnestly  at  Pierre  and  smiled,  much  as  a 
rich  man,  who  had  millions  in  his  hands,  might  smile  upon  a 
poor  man,  who  should  tell  him  that  he  had  nothing,  and  that 
five  rubles  would  make  him  the  happiest  of  men. 

"  Yes,  you  do  not  know  Him,  my  dear  sir,"  said  the  Mason. 
"  You  cannot  know  Him  —  you  cannot  know  Him ;  therefore, 
you  are  unhappy." 

"  Yes,  yes,  I  am  unhappy,"  repeated  Pierre.  "  But  what  am 
I  to  do  ?  " 

"  You  do  not  know  Him,  my  dear  sir,  and  therefore  you  are 
very  unhappy.  You  do  not  know  Him,  but  He  is  here ;  He  is 
in  me,  He  is  in  my  words,  He  is  in  thee,  and  even  in  those 
blasphemous  words  that  thou  hast  just  uttered,"  said  the 
Mason,  in  his  stem,  vibrating  voice. 

He  paused  and  sighed,  evidently  trying  to  master  his  emo- 
tion. ^ 

"  If  He  did  not  exist,"  said  he,  gently,  "  you  and  I  would 
not  be  speaking  about  Him,  my  dear  sir.  Of,  what,  of  whom 
have  we  been  speaking  ?  Whom  didst  thou  deny  ?  "  he  sud- 
denly asked,  with  a  tone  of  enraptured  sternness  and  power  in 
his  voice.  "Who  would  have  invented  Him,  if  He  did  not 
exist  ?  How  camest  thou  to  have  the  hypothesis  that  such  an 
imcomprehensible  being  existed  ?  How  came  you  and  all  the 
world  to  suppose  the  existence  of  an  incomprehensible  being, 
—  a  being  omnipotent,  eternal,  and  infinite  in  all  llis  attri- 
butes ?  " 

He  paused,  and  remained  silent  for  some  time. 

Pierre  could  not  and  would  not  break  in  upon  his  silence. 

"He  is,  but  it  is  hard  to  comprehend  Him,"  said  the  Mason 
at  last,  looking  not  into  Pierre's  face,  but  straight  ahead, 
while  his  aged-looking  hands,  which  he  could  not  keep  quiet, 
owing  to  his  intemaJ  excitement,  kept  fumbling  with  the 
leaves  of  his  book. 

"  If  it  were  a  man  whose  existence  thou  disbelieved,  I  could 


72  W''^^  ^-^^  PEACE. 

bring  this  man  to  thee,  I  would  take  him  by  the  hand  and 
show  him  to  thee.  But  how  can  I,  an  insignificemt  mortal, 
show  all  His  omnipotence,  all  His  infinity,  all  His  goodness  to 
him  who  is  blind,  or  to  him  who  shuts  his  eyes,  in  order  not 
to  see,  not  to  comprehend  Him,  and  not  to  see  and  not  to  com- 
prehend all  his  own  vileness  and  depravity  ?  " 

He  paused  again. 

"  Who  art  thou  ?  What  art  thou  ?  Thou  imaginest  that 
thou  art  heroic  because  thou  canst  utter  those  blasphemoas 
words,"  said  he,  with  a  saturnine  and  scornful  laugh.  "  And 
thou  art  stupider  and  less  intelligent  than  a  little  child,  which, 
playing  with  the  artistically  constructed  parts  of  a  clock, 
should  dare  to  say  that  because  it  did  not  understand  the  clock, 
it  did  not  believe  in  the  artificer  who  made  it.  To  comprehend 
Him  is  hard.  For  ages,  since  our  first  ancestor  Adam  even  down 
to  our  own  days,  we  have  been  striving  to  comprehend  him,  and 
we  are  still  infinitely  far  from  the  attainment  of  our  purpose ; 
but  while  we  cannot  comprehend  Him,  we  see  only  our  feeble- 
ness and  His  majesty." 

Pierre,  with  agitated  heart  and  burning  eyes,  looked  at  the 
Mason,  listening  to  his  words,  not  interrupting  him  or  asking 
him  any  questions  ;  but  with  all  his  soul  he  believed  in  what 
this  strange  man  told  him.  Wliether  it  was  that  he  was  con- 
vinced by  the  reasonable  arguments  that  the  Mason  employed, 
or  was  persuaded,  as  children  are,  by  the  conviction,  by  the 
sincerity  expressed  by  the  Mason's  intonations,  by  the  trem- 
bling voice  that  sometimes  almost  failed  ^im,  or  by  the  bril- 
liant eyes  that  had  grown  old  in  this  conviction,  or  by  that 
calmness,  security,  and  belief  in  his  own  mission,  which  radi- 
ated from  his  whole  being,  and  which  especially  impressed 
him  when  he  compared  it  with  his  own  looseness  of  belief 
and  hopelessness,  —  he  could  not  tell ;  at  all  events,  he  desired 
with  all  his  soul  to  believe,  and  he  did  believe,  and  experienced 
a  joyous  sense  of  calmness,  regeneration,  and  restoration  to 
life. 

"  It  is  not  by  the  intellect  that  He  is  understood,  but  by 
life,"  said  the  Mason. 

"I  do  not  understand,"  said  Pierre,  finding  with  dread  his 
doubts  arising  in  him  again.  He  was  afraid  lest  he  might  de- 
tect some  weakness  and  lack  of  clearness  in  his  new  friend's 
arguments ;  he  was  afraid  not  to  believe  in  him. 

"  I  do  not  understand,"  said  he,  "  how  the  human  mind  can 
attain  that  knowledge  of  which  you  speak." 

The  Mason  smiled  his  sweet,  paternal  smile. 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  73 

^'The  highest  wisdom  and  truth  is  like  the  purest  ichor, 
which  we  should  wish  to  receive  into  our  very  selves,"  said  he. 
''  Can  I,  an  unclean  vessel,  accept  this  pure  ichor  and  judge  of 
its  purity  ?  Only  through  the  cleansing  of  my  inner  nature, 
can  I,  to  a  certain  extent,  receive  this  baptismal  consecra- 
tion." 

"  Yes,  yes.  that  is  so,"  said  Pierre,  joyfully. 

"  The  highest  wisdom  is  establislied,  not  on  reason  alone, 
not  on  those  worldly  sciences,  physics,  history,  chemistry,  and 
the  like,  on  which  intellectual  knowledge  stumbles.  The 
highest  wisdom  is  one.  The  highest  wisdom  has  one  science, 
the  science  of  the  All,  the  universal  science  which  explains  all 
creation,  and  the  place  which  man  occupies  in  it.  In  order  to 
absorb  this  science,  it  is  absolutely  essential  to  purify  and  ren- 
ovate the  inner  man,  and,  therefore,  before  one  can  know  it  one 
must  believe  and  accomplish  perfection.  And  to  attain  this 
end,  our  souls  must  be  filled  with  that  Divine  light  which  is 
called  conscience." 

"  Yes,  yes,"  cried  Pierre. 

"  Look  with  the  eyes  of  your  spirit  at  your  inner  man,  and 
then  ask  yourself  if  you  are  content  with  your  life  ?  What  do 
you  attain  when  you  put  yourself  under  the  guidance  of  the  in- 
tellect alone  ?  What  are  you  ?  Y^ou  are  young,  you  are  in- 
telligent, and  educated,  my  dear  sir.  What  have  you  been  do- 
ing with  all  those  blessings  that  have  been  put  into  your 
hi^ds  ?     Are  you  content  with  yourself  and  your  life  ?  " 

"  IS'o,  I  detest  my  life,"  exclaimed  Pierre,  with  a  scowl. 

"  If  you  detest  it,  then  change  it,  undergo  self-purification, 
and  in  accordance  as  you  accomplish  it,  you  will  learn  wisdom. 
Examine  into  your  life,  my  dear  sir.  What  sort  of  a  life  have 
you  been  leading  ?  Wild  revels,  and  debauchery  !  Receiving 
everything  from  society,  and  giving  nothing  in  return.  You 
have  become  the  possessor  of  wealth,  —  how  have  you  been  em- 
ploying it  ?  What  have  you  been  doing  for  your  neighbor  ? 
Have  you  had  a  thought  for  your  tens  of  thousands  of  slaves  ? 
'Have  you  helped  them,  physically  or  morally  ?  No !  You  have 
taken  advantage  of  their  labor  to  lead  a  dissipated  life.  Then, 
my  dear  sir,  you  got  married ;  you  assumed  responsibilities 
for  the  guidance  of  a  young  woman,  and  how  have  you  carried 
them  out  ?  You  have  not  aided  her,  my  dear  sir,  to  find  the 
path  of  truth,  but  you  have  hurled  her  into  the  abyss  of  false- 
hood and  wretchedness.  A  man  insulted  you,  and  you  fought 
with  him,  and  you  say  that  you  do  not  know  God,  and  that  you 
detest  your  life.     There  is  no  wisdom  in  that,  my  dear  sir ! " 


^ 


74  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

After  saying  these  words,  the  Mason,  as  though  wearied  by 
this  long  speech,  again  leaned  against  the  back  of  the  sofa,  and 
closed  his  eyes.  Pierre  looked  at  the  stem,  impassive,  almost 
deathly  face  of  the  old  man,  and  moved  his  lips  without  mak- 
ing any  noise.     He  wanted  to  say,  — 

"  Yes,  my  life  is  shameful,  idle,  dissipated,"  but  he  did  not 
dare  to  break  the  silence. 

The  Freemason  coughed,  a  hoarse,  decrepit  cough,  and  sum- 
moned his  servant,  — 

"  How  about  the  horses  ?  "  he  asked,  without  looking  at 
Pierre. 

"  Those  that  were  ordered,  have  been  brought,"  replied  the 
servant.     "  Do  you  not  wish  to  rest  ?  " 

"  No,  have  them  harnessed." 

"  Can  it  be  that  he  is  going  to  leave  me  here  alone,  and  not 
tell  me  all,  and  not  promise  me  help,"  wondered  Pierre,  getting 
up,  and  beginning  to  pace  up  and  down  the  room,  with  bowed 
head,  though  he  occasionally  glanced  at  the  Mason. 

"  Yes,  I  had  never  thought  about  it  before,  I  lead  a  contempt- 
ible, depraved  life,  but  I  do  not  love  it,  and  I  have  no  desire 
to  continue  it,"  thought  Pierre.  "And  this  man  knows  the 
truth,  and  if  he  had  the  desire  he  might  enlighten  me." 

Pierre  wished,  but  had  not  the  courage  to  say  this  to  the 
Mason.  The  traveller,  gathering  up  his  eflFects  with  his  skil- 
ful, aged  hands,  began  to  button  up  his  sheepskin  coat.  Hav- 
ing accomplished  these  tasks,  he  turned  to  Bezukhoi,  and  said 
to  him  in  a  polite,  indifferent  tone,  — 

"  Where  are  you  going  now,  my  dear  sir  ?  " 

"I  —  I  am  going  to  Petersburg,"  replied  Pierre,  in  a  child- 
ish, irresolute  voice.  "Tarn  grateful  to  you.  I  agree  with 
what  you  have  said.  But  pray  do  not  think  that  I  am  all 
bad !  I  wish  with  all  my  soul  that  I  were  what  you  wish  that 
I  was  —  but  I  have  never  found  any  help  to  become  such; 
however,  I  am,  above  all,  to  blame  for  ray  faults.  Help  me  I 
teach  me,  and  maybe  T  might  "  — 

Pierre  could  not  speak  further.  There  was  a  strange  sound 
in  his  nose,  and  he  turned  away. 

The  Mason  did  not  speak  for  some  time,  evidently  lost  in 
thought. 

"  Help  is  given  only  from  God,"  said  he.  "  But  that  meas- 
ure of  help  which  it  is  within  the  power  of  our  craft  to  give 
you,  it  will  be  glad  to  give,  my  dear  sir.  When  you  reach 
Petersburg,  give  this  to  Count  Villarsky." 

He  took  out  a  pocket-book,  and  on  a  large  sheet  of  paper, 
folded  twice,  he  wrote  a  few  words. 


i 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  75 

'•Allow  me  to  give  you  one  piece  of  advice.  When  you 
reach  the  capital,  consecrate  your  first  hours  to  solitude,  to 
self-examination,  and  do  not  again  enter  into  your  former 
paths  of  life.  And  now  I  wish  you  a  happy  journey,  my  dear 
sir/'  said  he,  perceiving  that  his  servant  had  entered  the  room, 
"  and  all  success." 

The  traveller  was  Osip  Alekseyevitch  Bazd^yef ,  as  Pierre  dis- 
eovered  by  the  station-master's  record  book.  Bazdeyef  was 
one  of  the  most  distinguished  Freemasons  and  Martiilists 
since  the  time  of  Novikof.  Pierre,  after  his  departure,  with- 
out lying  down  to  sleep,  or  asking  for  horses,  long  paced  up 
and  down  the  room  of  the  station-house,  thinking  over  his  vi- 
eioQS  way  of  living,  and,  with  the  enthusiasm  of  regeneration, 
imagining  to  himself  the  blessed,  irreproachable,  and  beneficent 
future  which  now  seemed  to  him  so  easy.  He  was,  so  it  seemed 
to  him,  wicked  only  because  he  had,  as  it  were,  forgotten  how 
good  it  was  to  be  a  righteous  man.  Not  a  trace  of  his  former 
doubts  remained  in  his  mind.  He  had  a  firm  faith  in  the  pos- 
sibility of  a  brotherhood  of  men,  united  in  one  common 
aim  of  keeping  each  other  in  the  path  of  righteousness,  and 
such  a  brotherhood  Masonry  now  seemed  to  him  to  be. 


CHAPTER  III. 

Oir  reaching  Petersburg,  Pierre  informed  no  one  of  his  pres- 
ence, went  nowhere,  and  actually  spent  whole  days  in  reading 
Thomas  k  Kempis,  which  some  one  —  he  knew  not  whom  —  had 
sent  him.  One  thing,  and  only  one  thing,  Pierre  understood 
in  reading  that  book :  that  was  the  hitherto  unknown  delight 
in  believing  in  the  possibility  of  attaining  perfection,  and  in 
the  possibility  of  active  brotherly  love  among  men,  which 
Osip  Alekseyevitch  had  revealed  to  him. 

Within  a  week  after  his  return,  the  young  Polish  Count 
Villarsky,  whom  Pierre  had  known  slightly  in  Petersburg 
society,  came  one  evening  into  his  room  with  the  same  sort  of 
official  and  solemn  air  with  which  Dolokhof  s  second  had  ap- 
proached him;  closing  the  door  behind  him,  and  assuring 
himself  that  no  one  except  Pierre  wjfe  in  the  room,  he  thus 
addressed  him,  — 

"I  have  come  to  you,  count,  for  the  purpose  of  laying  a 
proposition  before  you,"  said  he,  not  sitting  down.  "  An  in- 
dividual of  very  high  degree  in  our  brotherhood  has  inter- 
ested himself  in  having  you  admitted  out  of  due  course,  and 


76  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

has  proposed  that  I  should  be  your  sponsor.  I  consider  it  as 
a  sacred  duty  to  fulfil  this  person's  desires.  Do  you  wish  to 
join  the  brotherhood  of  Freemasons  under  my  sponsorship  ?  " 

Pierre  was  amazed  at  the  cold  and  severe  tone  of  this  man, 
whom  he  had  seen  almost  always  at  balls,  with  a  gallant  smile, 
in  the  society  of  the  most  brilliant  ladies. 

"  Yes,"  said  Pierre,  «  I  do  wish  it." 

Villarsky  inclined  his  head. 

*'  Still  one  further  question,  count,"  said  he,  "  which  I  will 
beg  of  you  to  answer  with  all  frankness,  not  as  a  future  Mason, 
but  as  a  man  of  honor  (i/n  galant  homme)  :  Have  you  re- 
nounced your  former  convictions  ?  Do  you  believe  in  a  God  ?  " 

Pierre  hesitated, — 

"  Yes  —  yes,  I  believe  in  a  God,"  said  he. 

"  In  that  case,"  began  Villarsky,  but  Pierre  interrupted  him,— 

"  Yes,  I  believe  in  God,"  said  he  once  more. 

"In  that  case,  we  may  start,  then,"  said  Villarsky.  "My 
carriage  is  at  your  service." 

Villarsky  sat  in  silence  all  the  way.  To  Pierre's  questions 
as  to  what  he  had  to  do,  and  how  he  must  answer,  Villarsky 
contented  himself  with  replying  that  brethren  more  suitable 
than  himself  would  examine  him,  and  that  all  that  it  behooved 
Pierre  to  do  was  to  speak  the  truth. 

Entering  the  courtyard  of  a  large  mansion,  where  the  Lodge 
met,  and  passing  up  a  dark  staircase,  they  came  into  a  small, 
brightly  lighted  anteroom,  where  they  removed  their  shuhas 
without  the  aid  of  servants.  Through  an  entry  they  passed 
into  another  room.  Here  a  man  in  a  strange  g^rb  made  his 
appearance  at  the  door.  Villarsky,  going  forward  to  meet  him, 
said  something  to  him  in  French,  in  an  undertone,  and  went 
to  a  small  wardrobe,  in  which  Pierre  observed  trappings  such 
as  he  had  never  seen  before.  Taking  from  the  wardrobe  a 
handkerchief,  Villarsky  bound  it  around  Pierre's  eyes  and 
tied  a  knot  behind  in  such  a- way  that  his  hair  was  caught  in 
it  and  hurt  him.  Then  he  drew  him  to  himself,  kissed  him, 
and  taking  him  by  the  hand  led  him  he  knew  not  where. 
The  hair  caught  in  the  knot  hurt  Pierre,  he  scowled  with  the 
pain  and  smiled  shamefacedly.  His  burly  figure,  with  ban- 
daged eyes,  with  swinging  arms,  with  face  both  frowning  and 
smiling,  followed  Villarsky  with  timid  steps. 

After  leading  him  half  a  score  of  paces,  Villarsky  paused. 

"  Whatever  happens  to  you,"  said  he,  "  you  must  courage- 
ously endure  it  all,  if  you  are  firmly  resolved  to  enter  ^ 
Brotherhood." 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  77 

Pierre  nodded  assent.       •  - 

^'  When  you  hear  a  rap  on  the  door  you  can  take  off  the 
handkerchief,"  added  Yillarsky.  '*  I  wish  you  good  courage 
and  success."  And  pressing  Pierre's  hand,  VUlarsky  went 
away. 

Left  alone,  Pierre  still  continued  to  smile  as  before.  Twice 
he  shrugged  his  shoulders,  raised  his  hand  to  the  handkerchief, 
as  though  inclined  to  remove  it,  and  again  let  it  fall.  The 
five  minutes  which  he  spent  with  bandaged  eyes,  seemed  to 
him  like  an  hour.  His  hands  swelled,  his  legs  trembled ;  it 
seemed  to  him  as  though  he  were  tired.  He  experienced  the 
most  complex  and  varied  sensations.  What  was  going  to  hap- 
pen to  him  seemed  to  him  terrible,  and  he  was  still  more  afraid 
that  he  should  show  his  fear.  He  was  filled  with  curiosity  to 
know  what  w^as  going  to  take  place,  what  was  going  to  be  re- 
vealed to  him;  but,  above  all,  it  was  delightful  for  him  to 
think  that  the  moment  had  come  when  he  had  definitely  en- 
tered upon  the  path  of  regeneration,  and  of  an  active,  benefi- 
cent life,  of  which  he  had  dreamed  ever  since  his  meeting  with 
Osip  Alekseyevitch. 

Loud  raps  were  heard  at  the  door.  Pierre  took  off  the  ban- 
dage and  looked  around  him. 

It  was  intensely  dark  in  the  room,  only  in  one  place  burned 
a  lampada,  or  shrine  lamp,  within  some  white  object.  Pierre 
went  nearer,  and  saw  that  the  lampada  stood  on  a  table  covered 
with  a  black  cloth,  on  which  lay  a  single  opened  book.  The 
book  was  a  copy  of  the  Gospels ;  the  white  object,  in  which 
hnmed  the  lampada,  was  a  human  skull,  with  its  eye  sockets 
and  teeth.  Heading  the  first  words  of  the  Gospel :  ^'  In  the 
[  beginning  was  the  Word,  and  the  Word  was  with  G^d." 
Pierre  went  around  the  table,  and  saw  a  large  box  filled  with 
something  and  covered.  This  was  a  coffin  with  bones  in  it. 
He  was  not  at  all  surprised  at  what  he  saw.  In  his  hope  of 
entering  upon  a  wholly  new  life,  absolutely  removed  from  the 
old  one,  he  expected  all  sorts  of  extraordinary  things,  indeed 
much  more  extraordinary  than  what  he  had  already  seen.  The 
skull,  the  coffin,  the  Gospel  —  it  seemed  to  him  that  all  this 
was  what  he  had  expected:  he  expected  something  more. 
While  trying  to  stimulate  a  sense  of  emotion,  he  looked  around 
him :  "  God,  death,  love,  human  fraternity,"  he  said  to  himself, 
connecting  with  these  words  confused  but  pleasing  concep- 
tions. 

A  door  opened,  and  some  one  entered. 

By  the  feeble  light  Pierre  could  just  manage  to  make  out 


78  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

that  it  was  a  short  little  mau.  Coming  from  light  into  dark- 
ness this  man  paused  a  moment,  then,  with  cautious  steps,  he 
approached  the  table  and  placed  on  it  his  small  hands  covered 
with  leather  gloves. 

The  short  man  wore  a  white  leathern  apron  reaching  from 
his  chest  to  his  feet ;-  around  his  neck  was  something  like  a 
necklace,  and  above  the  necklace  arose  a  high,  white  frill,  serv- 
ing as  a  sort  of  frame  for  his  elongated  face,  lighted  from  be- 
low. 

"  Why  have  you  come  hither  ?  "  asked  the  new  man,  coming 
toward  Pierre,  whose  position  was  indicated  by  a  slight  noise. 
"  Wherefore  do  you,  who  believe  not  in  the  truth  of  light, 
and  have  never  seen  the  light,  wherefore  have  you  come 
hither  ?  What  do  you  desire  of  us  ?  Wisdom  ?  virtue  ?  en- 
lightenment ?  " 

The  moment  the  door  opened  and  the  unknown  man  entered, 
Pierre  experienced  a  sense  of  awe  and  reverence  similar  to 
that  which  he  had  felt  in  his  childhood  at  confession:  he 
felt  that  he  was  face  to  face  with  a  man  who,  under  all  the 
conditions  of  ordinary  life,  was  a  stranger,  but  was  near  to 
him  through  the  brotherhood  of  man.  Pierre,  with  his  heart 
beating  so  that  he  could  hardly  breathe,  went  toward  the 
Khetor,  as  the  Masons  call  the  brother  whose  duty  it  is  to  pre- 
pare the  candidate  for  admission  into  the  confraternity.  Pierre 
approaching,  recognized  the  Ehetor  as  an  acquaintance  of 
his,  named  Smolyaninof ;  it  was  a  disappointment  to  think 
that  this  man  was  an  acquaintance :  the  new  comer  was  merely 
a  brother  and  instructor  in  virtue.  It  was  some  time  before 
Pierre  could  hnd  a  word  to  say;  so  that  the  Khetor  was 
obliged  to  repeat  his  question. 

"Yes,  I  —  I — I  seek  regeneration,"  said  Pierre,  speaking 
with  difficulty. 

"Very  good,"  said  Smolyaninof,  and  immediately  pro- 
ceeded,— 

"  Have  you  any  idea  of  the  means  by  which  our  Holy  Fra- 
ternity can  aid  you  to  the  attainment  of  your  desires  ?  "  asked 
the  Rhetor,  calmly  and  rapidly. 

"I  —  hope  for  —  guidance  —  for  help  —  toward  —  regenei»r 
tion,"  said  Pierre,  with  a  trembling  voice,  and  finding  a  diffi- 
culty in  speaking  that  arose  from  his  emotion  as  well  as  from 
his  lack  of  practice  in  speaking  Russian  on  abstract  themes. 

"  What  knowledge  have  you  of  Freemasonry  ?  " 

"  I  suppose  that  Freemasonry  is  fratemite  and  equality  of 
all  men  with  virtuous  aims,"  said  Pierre,  with  a  feeling  of 


WAR   AND  PEACE.  '  ,  81 

shame  overwhelming  him  <at  the  unfitness  of  his  words  at  sK|ight 
a  solemn  moment.     "  I  suppose  "  —  \ 

"  Very  good,"  said  the  Rhetor,  in  haste,  evidently  perfectly  ^ 
satisfied  with  this  reply.    "  Have  you  found  means  in  religion 
for  the  attainment  of  these  ends  ?  " 

"No,  I  have  considered  religion  opposed  to  truth,  and  F 
have  spurned  it,"  said  Pierre,  so  low  that  the  Rhetor  did  not 
hear  him  and  asked  him  what  he  said:  ^'I  have  been  an 
atheist,"  replied  Pierre. 

"  You  seek  after  truth  for  the  purpose  of  following  her  laws 
through  life ;  consequently,  you  seek  wisdom  and  virtue,  do 
you  ?  "  asked  the  Rhetor,  after  a  moment's  silence. 

"  Yes,  yes,"  insisted  Pierre. 

The  Rhetor  coughed,  folded  his  gloved  hands  on  his  chest, 
and  began  to  discourse, — 

"It  is  now  my  duty  to  unfold  to  you  the  chief  object  of  our 
craft,"  said  he.  "  And  if  this  object  coincides  with  yours,  then 
you  will  find  it  an  advantage  to  join  our  fraternity.  The  first 
and  principal  aim,  and  at  the  same  time  the  foundation  of  our 
Confraternity,  on  which  it  stands  firm,  and  which  no  human 
violence  can  shake,  is  the  conservation  and  handing  down  to 
posterity  of  a  certain  important  mystery,  which  has  been 
handed  down  to  us  from  the  remotest  antiquity,  even  from  the 
first  man,  from  which  mystery  perhaps  depends  the  destiny  of 
the  human  race.  But  as  this  mystery  has  the  peculiarity  that 
no  one  can  know  it  and  get  advantage  from  it  except  through  a 
long  and  assiduous  course  of  self-purification,  therefore,  not 
every  one  can  hope  speedily  to  discover  it.  Consequently,  we 
have  a  secondary  aim  and  object,  which  consists  in  preparing 
our  fellow  members,  so  far  as  in  us  lies,  to  correct  their  hearts, 
to  purify  and  enlighten  their  reason  by  those  means  which 
have  been  handed  down  to  us  by  tradition  from  those  men  who 
labored  for  the  investigation  of  those  mysteries,  and  thereby 
to  teach  them  to  be  qualified  for  the  reception  of  one. 

"By  purifying  and  rectifying  our  own  members,  we  en- 
deavor, in  the  third  place,  to  correct  also  the  whole  human 
race,  presenting  in  our  own  members  an  example  of  honor  and 
virtue,  and  therefore  we  endeavor,  by  all  means  in  our  power, 
to  counteract  the  evil  that  rules  in  the  world.  Think  this 
over,  and  I  will  come  to  you  again,"  said  he,  and  he  left  the 
room. 

"  To  counteract  the  evil  that  rules  in  the  world,"  repeated 
Pierre,  and  he  imagined  his  future  activity  in  this  great 
field. 


78  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

*^e  imagined  such  men  as  he  himself  had  been  a  fortnight  be- 
*%re,  and  his  thoughts  turned  to  the  initiatory  discourse  that  he 
had  just  heard.  He  called  to  mind  the  wicked  and  wretched  men 
whom  he  should  help  by  word  or  deed ;  he  imagined  the  op- 
pressors from  whom  he  rescued  their  victims. 

From  the  three  objects  which  the  Rhetor  enumerated,  the 
last,  the  improvement  of  the  human  race,  was  the  one  that 
most  appealed  to  Pierre.  The  important  mystery  of  which 
the  Rhetor  spoke,  although  it  aroused  his  curiosity,  did  not 
seem  to  him  to  be  a  reality ;  but  the  second,  self-purification 
and  regeneration,  interested  him  very  little,  because  at  that 
moment  he  felt  that  he  was  already  perfectly  freed  from  his 
former  vices,  and  ready  only  for  what  was  right. 

Within  half  an  hour,  the  Rhetor  returned  to  instruct  the 
candidate  in  the  seven  virtues,  symbolized  by  the  seven  steps 
of  Solomon's  temple,  which  every  Mason  must  make  his  espe- 
cial practice.    These  virtues  were  as  follows, — 

1.  Modesty^  the  observation  of  the  secrets  of  the  Order. 

2.  Obedience  to  the  higher  degrees  of  the  Fraternity. 

3.  Virtuous  living, 

4.  Love  for  mankind. 
6.  Courage. 

6.  Liberality. 

1.  Love  of  death, 

"  Apply  yourself  to  the  seventh,*'  said  the  Rhetor.  "  By 
frequent  thoughts  of  Death,  bring  yourself  to  feel  that  He  is 
no  more  a  terrible  enemy,  but  a  friend  who  frees  the  soul, 
wearied  by  works  of  beneficence,  from  the  wretchedness  of 
this  life  and  leads  it  into  the  place  of  rewards  and  rest." 

"  Yes,  this  ought  to  be  so,"  thought  Pierre,  when  the  Rhe- 
tor, after  delivering  himself  of  this  message,  again  retired, 
leaving  him  to  solitary  reflection.  "  This  ought  to  be  so,  but 
I  am  still  so  feeble  as  to  love  my  life,  the  meaning  of  which 
has  only  just  been,  to  some  small  degree,  revealed  to  me." 

The  other  five  virtues,  however,  which  Pierre  counted  off  on 
his  fingers,  he  felt  were  already  in  his  soul :  courage  and  gen- 
erosity, liberality  and  virtuous  living,  and  love  for  inaokind, 
and  especially,  obedience,  which  last  seemed  less  to  him  a  vir- 
tue than  a  pleasure,  so  glad  was  he  now  to  be  freed  from  the 
exercise  of  his  own  will,  and  to  subordinate  it  to  those  who 
knew  the  indubitable  truth.  The  sixth  virtue,  Pierre  had  for- 
gotten ;  he  could  not  remember  what  it  was  at  all. 

For  the  third  time  the  Rhetor  returned,  this  time  more 
speedily  than  before,  and  asked  Pierre  if  he  were  still  firm  in 


WAR  AXn  PEACE.  81 

his  convictions,  and  were  resolved  to  undergo  all  that  might 
be  required  of  him. 

"  I  am  reader  for  anything,"  said  Pierre. 

"  I  must  still  further  apprise  you,"  said  the  Rhetor,  "  that 
our  order  does  not  instruct  by  words  alone,  but  by  other  argu- 
ments which  have  perhaps  a  more  powerful  effect  upon  the 
earnest  seeker  after  wisdom  and  virtue,  than  merely  verbal 
ones.  This  chamber,  with  its  ornamentation  which  you  see, 
must  have  already  made  this  plain  to  your  heart,  if  it  is  sincere, 
more  than  any  words  could  have  done.  You  will  see,  probably, 
during  your  further  advancement,  similar  modes  of  symbol- 
ism. Our  order  takes  pattern  after  ancient  societies,  which 
concealed  their  teachings  under  the  guise  of  hieroglyphics. 
A  hieroglyphic,"  explained  the  Rhetor,  "  is  an  inanimate  thing 
symbolizing  an  abstract  idea,  and  possessing  in  itself  qualities 
similar  to  those  possessed  by  the  idea  symbolized." 

Pierre  knew  very  well  what  a  hieroglyphic  was,  but  he  did 
not  venture  to  speak.  He  silently  listened  to  the  Rhetor,  be- 
ing persuaded  that  some  sort  of  test  was  immediately  to  be- 
gin. 

"  If  you  are  resolved,  then  it  is  my  duty  to  proceed  to  the 
initiation,"  said  the  Rhetor,  coming  closer  to  Pierre.  "  As  a  sign 
of  liberality,  I  shall  ask  you  to  give  me  everything  of  value 
that  you  have." 

"  But  I  have  nothing  with  me,"  said  Pierre,  supposing  that 
he  was  to  be  required  to  make  over  all  that  he  possessed. 

"  Well,  what  you  have  on  you  ;  your  watch,  money,  rings." 

Pierre  hastily  took  out  his  pocketbook,  his  watch,  and  strug- 
gled for  some  time  to  remove  his  wedding  ring  from  his  stout 
finger.     When  this  was  accomplished,  the  Mason  said, — 

"  As  a  sign  of  obedience,  I  will  ask  you  to  strip." 

Pierre  took  off  his  coat,  vest,  and  left  boot,  at  the  Rhetor's 
direction.  The  Mason  opened  the  shirt  over  his  left  breast, 
and,  bending  over,  lifted  his  trousers  above  the  knee  of  his 
left  leg.  Pierre  hastily  began  to  take  off  his  right  boot  also, 
and  to  tuck  up  his  trousers,  so  as  to  save  this  stranger  the 
trouble,  but  the  Mason  assured  him  that  this  was  unnecessary, 
and  gave  him  a  slipper  for  his  left  foot.  With  a  childlike 
smile  of  shame,  doubt,  and  derision  at  his  own  awkwardness, 
involuntarily  crossing  his  face,  Pierre  stood  up,  dropping  his 
arms  and  spreading  his  legs,  and  faced  the  Rhetor,  waiting 
his  next  command. 

"  And  finally,  as  a  sign  of  sincerity,  I  will  ask  you  to  reveal 
to  me  your  chief  predilection,"  said  he. 

you  1,  —6. 


82  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

"  My  predilection  ?  But  I  tised  to  have  so  many  of  them ! " 
exclaimed  Pierre. 

^'  The  predilection  which  more  than  all  others  has  caused  yon 
to  waver  in  the  path  of  virtue,"  said  the  Mason. 

Pierre  paused ;  trying  to  think. 

"Wine?  Gluttony?  Slothfulness ?  Impetuosity?  Anger? 
Women  ?  "  He  passed  his  faults  in  review,  mentally  consid- 
ering them,  and  not  knowing  which  to  give  the  preference. 

"  Women,"  said  he,  in  a  voice  so  low  that  it  was  scarcely 
audible.  The  Mason  did  not  move  and  did  not  speak  until 
long  after  this  reply.  At  last  he  approached  Pierre,  took  up 
the  handkerchief  that  was  lying  on  the  table,  and  again  blind- 
folded his  eyes. 

"  For  the  last  time,  I  say  to  you :  ^  Examine  yourself  with 
all  attention  !  Put  a  bridle  upon  your  feelings,  and  seek  your 
happiness  not  in  your  passions  but  in  your  heart.  The  foun- 
tain-head of  happiness  is  not  without  but  within  us.'  " 

Pierre  had  already  begun  to  feel  in  himself  this  refreshing 
fountain  of  happiness  which  now  filled  his  soul  to  overflowing 
with  bliss  and  emotion. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

Shortly  after  this,  there  came  into  the  dark  chamber,  not 
the  Rhetor,  as  before,  but  Pierre's  sponsor,  Villarsky,  whom 
he  recognized  by  his  voice.  In  replv  to  new  questions  as  to 
the  firmness  of  his  resolve,  Pierre  said,  "  Yes,  yes,  I  consent," 
and  with  his  brilliant,  childlike  smile,  with  his  broad  chest 
uncovered,  awkwardly  stepping  along  with  one  foot  in  a  boot 
and  the  other  in  a  slipper,  he  marched  forward,  with  Villarsky 
holding  a  drawn  sword  across  his  bare  breast. 

He  was  led  from  the  darkened  room  along  several  corridors 
winding  back  and  forth,  and  at  last  brought  to  the  door  of  the 
lodge-room. 

Villarsky  coughed ;  he  was  answered  by  Masonic  raps  with 
mallets ;  the  door  opened  before  them.  Some  one's  deep  voice 
—  Pierre's  eyes  were  still  blindfolded  —  asked  him  who  he 
was,  where  and  when  he  was  born,  and  other  questions.  Then 
he  was  led  somewhere  else,  the  bandage  not  yet  removed,  and 
while  he  was  on  the  way,  his  attendants  related  to  him  allego- 
ries about  the  difficulties  that  beset  his  way,  about  the  Sacred 
Fraternity,  the  Eternal  Architect  of  the  Univei*se,  and  the  Cour- 
age with  which  he  ought  to  endure  labors  and  sufferings.  During 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  83 

the  time  of  this  circumambulation,  Pierre  noticed  that  he  was 
called  first  the  "  Seeker,"  the  "  Sufferer,"  then  the  «  Claimant," 
while  the  mallets  and  swords  were  struck  each  time  in  a  differ- 
ent way.  At  one  time,  just  as  they  brought  him  to  some  object 
or  other,  he  noticed  that  there  was  confusion  and  perplexity 
among  his  attendants.  He  heard  the  men  surrounding  him 
whispering  together,  and  one  of  them  insisting  that  he  was  to 
be  led  across  a  certain  carpet. 

After  this,  they  took  his  right  hand  and  laid  it  upon  some- 
thing, while  with  his  left  he  was  directed  to  hold  a  pair  of 
compasses  to  his  left  breast,  and  to  repeat  the  words  read 
aloud  by  one  of  the  number,  and  which  bound  him  to  a  faith- 
ful observance  of  the  regulations  of  the  Order.  Then  the  can- 
dles were  extinguished ;  some  alcohol  was  burned,  as  Pierre 
apprehended  by  the  odor,  and  they  told  him  that  he  could  now 
see  *^The  lesser  light." 

The  bandage  was  removed  from  his  eyes,  and  Pierre  saw  as 
in  a  dream,  by  the  feeble  light  of  the  alcohol  lamp,  a  number 
of  men,  who,  all  wearing  aprons  similar  to  that  which  the 
Khetor  had  worn,  stood  in  front  of  him  holding  swords  pointed 
toward  his  chest.  Among  them  stood  a  man  with  a  white 
shirt  stained  with  blood.  Seeing  this,  Pierre  bent  his  chest 
forward  against  the  swords,  wishing  that  they  might  pierce  it. 
But  the  swords  were  withdrawn,  and  his  eyes  were  immedi- 
afcely  rebandaged. 

"Thou  hast  now  seen  the  lesser  light,"  said  a  voice.  Then 
the  candles  were  lighted  again ;  he  was  told  that  he  was  to  see 
the  full  light,  and  once  more  they  removed  the  bandage,  and 
more  than  a  dozen  voices  suddenly  cried :  "  Sic  transit  gloria 
mundu" 

Pierre  began  gradually  to  recover  himself,  and  looked  around 
the  room  in  which  he  was  and  at  the  men  who  were  there. 
Around  a  long  table  covered  with  black  sat  a  dozen  men  in  the 
trappings  which  the  others  whom  Pierre  had  seen  wore.  Some 
of  them  Pierre  had  known  in  Petersburg  society.  At  the  head 
of  the  table  was  a  young  man  whom  Pierre  did  not  know :  he 
had  a  peculiar  badge  around  his  neck.  At  his  right  hand  sat 
the  Italian  abbate  whom  Pierre  had  met  two  years  before  at 
Anna  Pavlovna's.  There  was  still  another  very  important 
dignitary,  and  a  Swiss,  who  had  once  been  a  tutor  at  the  Kur- 
agins'.  All  preserved  a  solemn  silence,  and  listened  to  the 
words  spoken  by  the  presiding  officer,  who  held  a  mallet  in  his 
hand.  Inserted  in  the  wall  was  a  blazing  star.  At  one  end 
of  the  table  was  a  small  cover  with  various  allegorical  symbols ; 


84  \VAk  Atfb  PEACE. 

on  the  other  was  something  in  the  nature  of  an  altar^  with  a 
copy  of  the  Gospels  and  a  skull.  Around  the  table  were  seven 
large  candlesticks,  such  as  they  have  in  churches. 

Two  of  the  brethren  drew  Pierre  to  the  altar^  placed  him 
at  right  angles,  and  bade  him  lie  down,  declaring  that  he  must 
prostrate  himself  at  the  Gates  of  the  Temple. 

'^  He  ought  to  receive  the  trowel  first/'  said  one  of  the  breth- 
ren, in  a  whisper. 

"  Akh !  please  hold  your  tongue,"  said  another. 

Pierre,  with  his  distracted,  nearsighted  eyes,  looked  around 
him  without  obeying,  and  suddenly  doubts  began  to  come  over 
him. 

"  Where  am  I  ?  What  am  I  doing  ?  Are  they  not  making 
sport  of  me  ?  Will  not  the  time  come  when  I  shall  be  ashamed 
of  all  this  flummery  ?  " 

But  this  doubt  lasted  only  for  an  instant.  He  looked  around 
on  the  grave  faces  of  the  spectators,  remembered  all  that  he 
had  already  been  through,  and  comprehended  that  he  had  gone 
too  far  now  to  withdraw. 

He  was  mortified  at  his  doubt,  and  while  endeavoring  to  re- 
gain his  former  feeling  of  emotion,  he  prostrated  himself  at 
the  gates  of  the  Temple.  And,  in  reality,  the  former  feeling 
of  emotion  came  over  him  even  more  powerfully  than  before. 

After  he  had  been  lying  there  for  some  little  time,  he  was 
bidden  to  arise,  and  they  put  upon  him  the  same  kind  of  white 
leathern  apron  which  the  others  wore,  put  a  trowel  into  his 
hand,  and  gave  him  three  pairs  of  gloves,  and  then  the  Grand 
Master  ad(&essed  him. 

He  told  him  that  it  behooved  him  to  endeavor  never  to  al- 
low the  whiteness  of  this  apron  to  be  sullied,  it  being  the  em- 
blem of  strength  and  purity.  Of  the  mysterious  trowel,  he 
said  that  he  was  to  use  it  for  eradicating  the  faults  from  his 
own  heart,  and  courteously  laying  the  foundations  of  virtue  in 
the  hearts  of  his  neighbors.  Then,  as  regarded  the  first  pair 
of  gloves,  which  were  men's,  he  said  that  he  was  not  to  under- 
stand their  signification,  but  must  keep  them ;  in  regard  to  the 
second  pair,  which  were  also  men's  gloves,  he  said  that  he  was  to 
wear  them  at  the  lodge  meetings ;  and,  finally,  in  regard  to  the 
third  pair,  which  were  a  woman's  gloves,  he  said  as  follows, — 

"  Dear  brother,  these  gloves  also  are  destined  for  you.  .  Give 
them  to  the  woman  whom  you  will  reverence  above  all  others. 
By  this  gift  you  pledge  the  purity  of  your  heart  to  her  whom 
you  will  select  as  your  worthy  Masonic  aflinity." 

Then,  after  a  brief  pause,  he  went  on, — 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  85 

^  Bnt  take  care,  dear  brother,  that  these  gloves  are  not  worn 
by  unworthy  hands  !  ^' 

While  the  Grand  Master  was  pronouncing  these  last  words, 
it  seemed  to  Pierre  that  he  was  embarrassed.  Pierre  himself 
was  still  more  embarrassed,  he  flushed  till  the  tears  came,  just 
as  children  flush ;  he  began  to  look  about  him  uneasily,  ana  an 
awkward  silence  ensued. 

This  silence  was  broken  by  one  of  the  brethren,  who  drew 
Pierre  to  the  table  cover  and  began  to  read  to  him  from  a  copy 
book  an  explanation  of  all  the  symbolical  figures  worked  up- 
on it :  the  sun,  moon,  the  hammer,  the  plumb-line,  the  trowel, 
the  untrimmed  and  four-square  foundation  stone,  the  pillar, 
the  three  windows,  and  other  things. 

Then  Pierre  was  assigned  his  place ;  the  signals  of  the  Lodge 
were  explained  to  him ;  the  password  was  told  him,  and  he 
was  at  last  permitted  to  sit  down. 

The  Grand  Master  began  to  read  the  regulations.  They 
were  very  long,  and  Pierre,  from  his  joy,  excitement,  and  sense 
of  shame,  was  not  in  a  condition  to  understand  what  they  were 
reading.  He  heard  only  the  last  words  of  the  regulations,  and 
they  impressed  themselves  on  his  memory." 

**  In  our  temples,  we  recognize  no  other  degrees,"  the  Grand 
Master  read,  "than  those  which  separate  virtue  from  wrong- 
doing. Take  care  not  to  make  any  distinction  that  may  tend 
to  destroy  equality.  Fly  to  the  aid  of  a  brother,  no  matter 
who  it  may  be ;  reclaim  the  wandering ;  raise  the  fallen,  and 
never  cherish  anger  or  enmity  against  a  brother.  Be  gentle 
and  courteous.  Kindle  in  all  hearts  the  fires  of  virtue.  Do 
acts  of  kindness  to  thy  neighbor,  and  never  allow  thyself 
to  envy  the  happiness  of  another.  Forgive  thy  enemy,  and 
avenge  not  thyself  upon  him,  except  by  doing  him  good.  Hav- 
ing thus  fulfilled  the  highest  law,  thou  wilt  discover  traces  of 
thy  primal  and  lost  greatness." 

He  finished  reading,  and  getting  up,  embraced  Pierre  and 
kissed  him.  Pierre,  with  tears  of  joy  in  his  eyes,  looked 
around  him,  not  knowing  what  reply  to  make  to  the  greetings 
and  congratulations  of  the  acquaintances  who  surrounded  him. 
He  made  no  distinction  between  old  friends  and  new:  in 
every  one  he  saw  only  brethren  whom  he  buijied  with  impa- 
tience to  join  in  carrying  out  the  work. 

The  Grand  Master  rapped  with  his  mallet.  All  sat  down  in 
their  places,  and  some  one  read  an  address  on  the  necessity  of 
humility. 

The  Grand  Master  then  proposed  to  carry  out  the  last  obli- 


86  War  and  p^acs. 

gation,  and  the  important  dignitary,  who  bore  the  appeUati<m 
of  "Collector  of  Alms,"  began  to  approach  each  in  turn. 
Pierre  had  the  inclination  to  subscribe  all  the  money  that  he 
possessed,  but  he  was  afraid  that  this  would  be  construed  as 
an  exhibition  of  pride,  and  he  put  down  only  what  each  of  the 
others  did. 

The  session  was  ended,  and  on  his  return  home  it  seemed  to 
Pierre  as  thoug]i  he  had  come  from  some  long  journey  after  an 
absence  of  ten  years,  and  was  entirely  changed,  with  nothing 
left  to  him  from  the  former  objects  and  customs  of  his  Ufe. 


CHAPTER  V. 

On  the  day  following  his  reception  into  the  Masonic  Lodge, 
Pierre  was  sitting  at  home,  reading  a  book  and  trying  to  pene- 
trate the  meaning  of  the  Square  formed  on  one  side  by  God, 
on  the  second  by  the  moral  world,  on  the  third  by  the  physi- 
cal, and  on  the  fourth  by  a  mixture  of  the  two  last.  Occasion- 
ally, his  attention  wandered  from  his  book  and  Square,  and  in 
his  imagination  he  began  to  formulate  a  new  plan  of  life  for 
himself. 

The  evening  before  at  the  lodge,  he  had  been  told  that  the 
emperor  had  heard  of  his  duel,  and  that  it  would  be  for  his 
advantage  to  leave  Petersburg  for  a  time.  Pierre  proposed  to 
go  to  his  southern  estates  and  look  out  for  the  welfare  of  his 
peasantry.  He  was  joyfully  thinking  about  this  new  life, 
when  Prince  Vasili  unexpectedly  came  into  the  room. 

"  My  dear,  what  have  you  been  doing  in  Moscow  ?  Why, 
what  made  you  quarrel  with  Lyola,  man  cher  ?  You  are  in 
error,"  said  the  prince,  as  he  came  in.  "  I  have  known  all 
about  it,  and  I  can  tell  you  honestly  that  Ellen  is  as  innocent 
toward  you  as  Christ  toward  the  Jews." 

Pierre  started  to  reply,  but  Prince  Vasili  cut  him  short. 

"  And  why  didn't  you  come  right  to  me  in  all  frankness,  as 
to  a  friend  ?  I  know  how  it  was,  I  understand  it,"  said  he. 
You  behaved  as  a  man  who  prizes  his  honor ;  perhaps,  too,  you 
acted  too  hastiljj,  but  we  won't  discuss  that  now.  Just  think 
of  this  though  :  in  what  a  position  you  have  put  her  and  me 
in  the  eyes  of  society,  and  especially  of  the  court,"  he  added, 
lowering  his  voice.  "  She  is  living  in  Moscow,  you  here.  Re- 
member, my  dear,"  —  he  made  him  sit  down  —  "  this  is  a  mere 
misunderstanding;  you  yourself  will  feel  so,  I  am  sure.    Now 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  87 

join  me  in  writing  a  letter,  and  she  will  eomeJback  ;  everything 
will  be  explained,  but  if  you  don't,  I  will  tell  you,  you  may 
very  easily  repent  of  it,  my  dear." 

Prince  Vasili  gave  Pierre  a  very  suggestive  look.  "  I  have 
it  from  the  very  best  sources  that  the  Empress  Dowager  takes 
a  lively  interest  in  all  this  matter.  You  know  that  she  is  very 
favorably  disposed  to  Ellen." 

Several  times  Pierre  collected  himself  to  speak,  but  on  the 
one  hand  Prince  Vasili  did  not  let  him  have  a  chance ;  on  the 
other,  Pierre  himself  was  afraid  to  take  that  tone  of  determined 
refusal,  with  which  he  had  definitely  made  up  his  mind  to 
answer  his  father-in-law.  Moreover,  the  words  of  the  Masonic 
ritual:  '^Be  courteous  and  genial,"  occurred  to  him.  He 
scowled,  flushed,  got  up  and  sat  down  again,  struggling  to  per- 
form the  hardest  task  that  had  ever  come  to  him  in  his  life :  — 
to  say  something  unpleasant  to  a  man's  face,  to  say  exactly 
the  opposite  of  what  this  man  expected.  He  was  so  accus- 
tomed to  give  in  to  Prince  Vasili's  tone  of  easy  going  self-con- 
fidence, that  even  now  he  felt  that  he  had  not  the  force  of 
mind  necessary  to  oppose  him  ;  but  he  felt  that  what  he  was 
going  to  say  now  was  to  decide  the  whole  destiny  of  his  life: 
was  he  to  go  back  to  the  old  path  of  the  past,  or  to  go  ou  over 
that  new  one  which  had  been  placed  before  him  in  so  attract- 
ive a  light  by  the  Masons,  and  on  which  he  firmly  believed 
that  he  should  find  regeneration  ? 

"  Well,  my  dear,"  said  Prince  Vasili,  in  a  jocose  tone,  "  tell 
me  '  yes,'  now,  and  I  will  write  her  the  letter  and  we  will  kill 
the  fatted  calf." 

But  Prince  Vasili  .had  not  time  to  finish  his  joke,  before 
Pierre,  not  looking  at  Prince  Vasili,  and  with  a  flash  of  rage, 
which  made  him  resemble  his  father,  exclaimed  in  a  whisper, — 

"  Prince,  I  did  not  invite  you  to  come  ;  please  go,  go  ! "  he 
sprang  np  and  flung  the  door  open.  '^  Go !  "  he  repeated,  not 
believing  in  himself  and  rejoicing  in  the  expression  of  con- 
fusion and  terror  on  Prince  Vasili's  face. 

"  What  is  the  matter  with  you,  are  you  ill  ?  " 

"  Go ! "  he  cried  once  more,  in  a  trembling  voice.  And 
Prince  Vasili  was  obliged  to  go,  without  bringing  about  any 
explanation. 

In  a  week's  time,  Pierre,  bidding  his  new  friends,  the 
Masons,  farew^l,  and  leaving  in  their  hands  large  sums  for 
charities,  departed  for  his  estates.  The  brotherhood  gave  him 
letters  to  the  Masons  of  Kief  and  Odessa,  and  promised  to 
write  and  guide  him  in  his  new  activity. 


88  ^^^  ^^^  PEACE. 


CHAPTER  VL 

The  duel  between  Pierre  and  Dolokhof  was  hushed  ujs  and, 
in  spite  of  the  emperor's  strictness  in  regard  to  duelling, 
neither  the  two  principals  nor  their  seconds  were  punished. 
But  the  story  of  the  duel,  confirmed  by  Pierre's  rupture  with 
his  wife,  was  noised  abroad  in  society.  Pierre,  who,  when  he 
was  an  illegitimate  son,  had  been  looked  upon  with  patroniz- 
ing condescension',  who  when  he  was  the  best  match  in  the 
Russian  empire  had  been  flattered  and  glorified,  had  lost  much 
of  his  importance  in  the  eyes  of  the  world  since  his  marriage, 
and  young  ladies  and  their  mammas  had  nothing  more  to  ex> 
pect  from  him,  the  more  from  the  fact  that  he  could  not  and 
would  not  ingratiate  himself  into  the  favor  of  fashionable  soci- 
ety. Now,  he  alone  was  blamed  for  this  occurrence ;  it  was 
said  that  he  was  a  jealous  blockhead,  liable  to  exactly  the  same 
fits  of  ferocious  temper  as  his  father. 

And,  when  after  Pierre's  departure,  Ellen  returned  to  Peters- 
burg, she  was  received  by  all  her  acquaintances  not  only  gladly 
but  even  with  a  shade  of  respectful  deference,  due  to  her  un- 
happiness.  When  her  husband  was  mentioned  in  conversa- 
tion, Ellen  put  on  a  dignified  expression,  which,  without  her 
realizing  its  significance,  she  managed  by  that  consummate 
tact  of  hers,  to  make  peculiarly  becoming.  This  expression 
signified  that  she  had  made  up  her  mind  to  endure  her  unhap- 
piness  without  complaining,  and  that  her  husband  was  a  cross 
sent  her  from  God. 

Prince  Yasili  expressed  his  feelings  more  openly.  He  would 
shrug  his  shoulders  when  the  conversation  turned  on  Pierre, 
and,  pointing  to  his  forehead,  would  say, — 

"  Un  cerveau  fele;  je  le  disais  taujours — I  always  said  he 
was  cracked." 

"  I  said  so  before  you  did," insisted  AnnaPavlovna;  "I  said 
so  first  thing,  and  before  anybody  else  "  —  she  always  claimed 
priority  for  her  predictions  —  "  that  he  was  a  silly  young  man, 
ruined  by  the  perverse  notions  of  the  day.  I  said  so  even 
when  he  had  just  returned  from  abroad,  and  when  eveiy  one 
was  enraptured  by  him,  and  you  will  remember  that  at  one  of 
my  receptions  he  posed  as  a  sort  of  Marat.  I(pw  is  it  going 
to  end  ?  Even  then  I  did  not  approve  of  his  marriage,  and 
predicted  what  would  come  of  it." 

Anna  Pavlovna,  just  as  of  yore,  was  giving  receptions  on 


War  and  peace,  89 

her  days  at  home,  and  such  ones  as  she  alone  had  the  gift  of 
arranging :  —  receptions  at  which  were  collected  in  the  first 
place,  la  creme  de  la  vMtahle  bonne  societe,  la  fin  fleur  de 
Pessence  intellectuelle  de  la  societe  de  Fetersbourg,  as  Anna 
Pavlovna  herself  expressed  it.  Over  and  above  this  discrim- 
inating selection  of  society,  Anna  Pavlovna's  receptions,  or 
"evenings,"  were  still  more  distinguished  by  the  fact  that  at 
each  one  she  managed  to  present  to  her  company  some  new 
and  interesting  individual,  and  that  no  where  else  could  be  so 
accurately  and  assuredly  gauged  the  political  thermometer 
which  reflected  the  disposition  of  the  conservative  court  soci- 
ety of  Petersburg. 

Toward  the  end  of  the  year  1806,  when  the  melancholy  news 
of  Napoleon's  defeat  of  the  Prussian  army  at  Jena  and  Auer- 
stadt  and  the  surrender  of  the  majority  of  the  Prussian  fort- 
resses had  been  received,  when  our  armies  had  iust  crossed 
over  into  Prussia,  and  our  second  campaign  with  Napoleon 
was  beginning,  Anna  Pavlovna  gave  a  reception.  '^  Th^  cream 
of  genuine  good  society  "  consisted  of  the  charming  and  hap- 
less Ellen,  Montemart,  the  bewitching  Prince  Ippolit,  just  ar- 
rived from  Vienna,  two  diplomats,  the  little  old  aunt,  a  young 
man  who  •  enjoyed  the  appellation  simply  of  "  un  homme  de 
beaueoup  de  mSrite"  a  newly  promoted  fr&ilina,  or  maid  of 
honor,  and  a  few  individuals  of  more  or  less  distinction. 

The  person  whom  Anna  Pavlovna  served  up  this  evening,  as 
a  choice  "first  fruit"  for  the  edification  of  her  guests,  was 
Boris  Drubetskoi,  who  had  just  arrived  on  a  special  mission 
from  the  army  in  Prussia,  and  was  now  enjoying  the  position 
of  adjutant  to  a  very  great  personage. 

The  political  thermometer  that  evening  offered  the  follow- 
ing points  for  the  study  of  society, — 

"  Whatever  all  the  rulers  and  commanders  of  Europe  may  do 
by  way  of  indulging  Bonaparte,  at  the  expense  of  causing  me, 
and  us  in  general,  annoyance  and  humiliation,  our  opinion  in  re- 
gard to  Bonaparte  remains  unchanged  and  incapable  of  change. 
We  shall  not  cease  to  express  our  views  on  tnis  subject,  and 
we  can  merely  say  to  the  King  of  Prussia :  *  So  much  tne  worse 
for  you.  Tu  Vas  voulu,  Georges  Dandin  —  it's  your  own  choice, 
that's  all  that  we  have  to  say  about  it.'  " 

That  was  what  the  political  thermometer  indicated  at  Anna 
Pavlovna's. 

When  Boris,  who  was  to  be  offered  up  to  the  guests,  entered 
the  drawing-room,  nearly  all  were  already  present,  and  the 
conversation,   under   Anna  Pavlovna's   lead,  turned  on  our 


90  Vf^AH  AND  PEACE. 

diplomatic  relations  with  Austria,  and  on  the  hope  of  an 
alliance. 

Boris,  in  an  elegant  adjutant's  uniform,  fresh  and  ruddy,  and 
grown  to  man's  estate,  came  with  easy  assurance  into  the  draw- 
ing room,  and  was  led  up,  according  to  custom,  to  salute  the 
aunt,  and  then  brought  back  to  the  general  circle  of  the 
guests. 

Anna  Pavlovna  gave  him  her  withered  hand  to  kiss,  intro- 
duced him  to  a  number  of  the  company  with  whom  he  was  not 
acquainted,  and  of  each  she  would  say  in  a  whisper, — 

"  Le  Prince  Hippolite  Kouraguine^  channant  jeune  hommt; 
Monsieur  Krouq,  charge  d^ affairs  de  Kopenhague,  un  esprit 
profond,"  or  simply,  "  Monsieur  Sitof,  nn  hoinme  de  beaucoup 
de  merite,^^  giving  each  one  whom  she  named  a  word  of  praise. 
Boris,  since  he  had  been  in  the  service,  had,  thanks  to  Anna 
Mikhailovna's  efforts  and  to  his  own  tastes  and  habit  of  self-con- 
trol, succeeded  in  obtaining  a  very  advantageous  position.  He 
had  be^n  appointed  aid  to  a  man  of  great  eminence ;  he  had 
been  entrusted  with  a  very  importtint  errand  to  I'russia,  and 
had  only  just  returned  from  there  as  a  special  courier.  He 
had  thoroughly  mastered  that  unwritten  system  of  subordina- 
tion which  had  pleased  him  so  much  at  Olmtttz,  according  to 
which  the  ensign  may  stand  incomparably  higher  than  a  gen- 
eral, while  for  success  in  the  service,  exertions  and  services 
and  gallantry  are  unnecessary,  but  all  that  is  needed  is  tact  in 
getting  on  with  those  who  control  the  patronage  of  places : 
and  he  was  often  himself  surprised  at  his  rapid  advances,  and 
by  the  fact  that  his  friends  could  not  understand  it.  The  con- 
sequence of  this  discovery  was  that  his  whole  mode  of  life, 
and  all  his  relations  to  former  friends  and  acquaintances,  and 
all  his  plans  for  the  future,  were  entirely  and  absolutely 
changed.  He  was  not  rich,  but  he  would  spend  his  last  kopek 
so  as  to  be  better  dressed  than  others ;  he  preferred  to  de- 
prive himself  of  many  pleasures  sooner  than  allow  himself 
to  ride  in  a  shabby  carriage  or  appear  in  anything  but  an  im- 
maculate uniform  in  the  streets  of  Petersburg.  He  frequented 
only  the  society  of  those  who  were  above  him  and  might  be  of 
advantage  to  liim.  He  loved  Petersburg  and  despised  Moscow. 
His  recollections  of  his  home  with  the  Rostofs  and  his  boyish 
love  for  Natasha  were  unpleasant  to  him,  and  since  his  first 
departure  for  the  army,  he  had  not  once  been  to  see  the  Kos- 
tois. 

On  reaching  Anna  Pavlovna's  drawing-room,  an  invitation 
to  which  he  considered  equivalent  to  a  rise  in  the  service,  be 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  91 

immediately  understood  what  part  he  had  to  play,  and  he  al- 
lowed Anna  Pavlovna  to  make  the  most  of  the  interest  which 
centred  upon  him,  while  he  attentively  studied  each  face  and 
took  mental  stock  of  what  possibilities  of  getting  advantage 
from  each  might  present  themselves.  He  sat  down  in  the 
place  assigned  to  him,  next  the  beautiful  Ellen,  and  began  to 
listen  to  the  conversation  that  was  going  on. 

"  Vienna  regards  the  basis  of  the  proposed  treaty  as  so  en- 
tirely out  of  the  question  that  it  would  be  impossible  to  bring 
it  about  even  by  a  series  of  the  most  brilliant  successes,  and 
she  questions  the  means  we  have  of  gaining  them.  Such  is  the 
authentic  report  from  Vienna,"  said  the  Danish  charge  d'af- 
faires, in  French. 

"The  doubt  is  flattering,"  said  the  young  man  of  the  deep 
mind,  with  a  shrewd  smile. 

"  One  should  distinguish  between  the  cabinet  of  Vienna  and 
the  Emperor  of  Austria,"  said  Montemart.  "  The  Austrian 
emperor  could  never  have  thought  of  such  a  thing ;  it  could 
only  have  been  the  cabinet  who  said  it." 

**  Ah,  my  dear  viscount,"  interrupted  Anna  Pavlovna,  "  T  U- 
npe"  —  for  some  reason  she  called  it  P  Urope,  as  a  special  re- 
finement of  French  which  she  might  make  use  of  in  speaking 
to  a  Frenchman.  —  "  Eh,  man  cher  vicornte,  V  Urope  ne  sera  ja- 
mais noire  allie  s-inch'e,'' 

And  then  Anna  Pavlovna  immediately  led  the  conversation 
around  to  the  bravery  and  resolution  of  the  Prussian  king,  do- 
ing this  for  the  sake  of  giving  Boris  a  chance  to  take  part. 

Boris  was  listening  attentively  to  what  was  said,  awaiting 
his  turn,  but,  nevertheless,  he  had  been  able  to  look  several 
times  at  his  neighbor,  the  beautiful  Ellen,  who,  with  a  smile, 
had  more  than  once  exchanged  glances  with  the  handsome 
young  adjutant. 

Quite  naturally,  while  speaking  of  the  position  of  Prussia, 
Anna  Pavlovna  begged  Boris  to  tell  about  his  visit  to  Glogau, 
Mid  the  state  in  which  he  found  the  Prussian  army.  Boris, 
without  undue  haste,  speaking  in  pure  and  elegant  French,  re- 
lated very  many  interesting  particulars  about  the  army,  and 
about  the  court,  but  throughout  his  story  he  carefully  avoided 
expressing  any  personal  opinion  in  regard  to  the  facts  which 
he  communicated.  For  some  time  Boris  held  the  attention  of 
all,  and  Anna  Pavlovna  was  conscious  that  all  her  guests  took 
great  satisfaction  in  the  treat  that  she  had  set  before  them. 
Ellen,  more  than  any  one  else  gave  her  undivided  attention  to 
what  Boris  had  to  say.     She  several  times  asked  him  in  regard 


92  WAR  AND  PEACE, 

to  certain  details  of  his  journey,  and  was  apparently  greatly 
intere'Sted  in  tKe  position  of  the  Prussian  army.  As  soon  as 
he  had  finished,  she  turned  to  him  with  her  usual  smile,  and 
said, — 

"  You  must  be  sure  to  come  and  see  me,"  said  she,  in  a  tone 
which  seemed  to  imply  that  circumstances  of  which  he  could 
know  nothing  made  it  absolutely  imperative. 

"  Tuesday,  between  eight  o'clock  and  nine.  You  will  give 
me  great  pleasure." 

Boris  promised  to  comply  with  her  wishes,  and  was  about  to 
engage  her  in  further  conversation,  when  Anna  Pa vlovna  called 
him  away,  under  the  pretext  that  her  old  aunt  wanted  to  sj>eak 
with  him. 

"  You  used  to  know  her  husband,  didn't  you  ?  "  asked  Anna 
Pavlovna,  closing  her  eyes,  and  making  a  melancholy  gesture 
toward  Ellen  :  "  Akh  !  she  is  such  an  unhaj)py  and  charming 
woman.  Don't  speak  to  her  about  him,  please  be  careful 
about  it.    It  is  too  hard  for  her." 


CHAPTER  VII. 

When  Boris  and  Anna  Pavlovna  returned  to  the  general 
circle.  Prince  Ippolit  had  taken  the  lead  in  the  conversation. 
Leaning  forward  in  his  chair,  he  had  said :  "  Le  roi  de  Pnisst,''^ 
and  when  he  said  it,  he  laughed.  All  turned  to  him.  "  Le  roi 
de  Pnisse  ?  "  asked  Ippolit  again,  laughing,  and  then  with  a 
calm  and  serious  expression  throwing  himself « back  into  the 
depths  of  his  easy-chair.  Anna  Pavlovna  waited  a  little  for 
him,  but  as  Ippolit  apparently  had  firmly  shut  his  mouth  not 
to  say  anything  more,  she  started  the  tjonversation  on  the 
godless  Bonaparte  laying  hands  on  the  sword  of  Frederick  the 
Great  at  Potsdam. 

*'  C^est  Pepee  de  Fridirie  le  grand  que  je  "  —  she  began  to 
say,  but  Ippolit  interrupted  her  with  the  words, — 

"  Le  roi  de  Pnisse  "  —  and  again  as  before  when  all  had 
turned  toward  him,  he  begged  her  pardon  and  remained  silent 
Anna  Pavlovna  frowned  ;  Montemart,  Ippolit's  friend,  turned 
to  him  peremptorily :  "  What  do  you  mean  now  by  your  roi 
de  Prti^se  ?  " 

Ippolit  laughed,  as  though  he  were  ashamed  of  laughing,  — 
. "  No,  it's  nothing  at  all,  I  only  meant "  — 

He  was  trying  to  get  off  a  joke  which  he  had  heard  in 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  93 

Vienna,  and  which  he  had  been  anxions  the  whole  evening 
long  to  spring  npon  the  company.     He  said, — 

^'  Je  voidais  dire  seul&ment  —  I  only  meant  that  we  were  do- 
ing wrong  to  wage  war  pour  le  rai  de  Prusse"  * 

Boris  smiled  a  guarded  smile,  that  might  have  been  taken 
to  signify  a  sneer  or  approbation  of  the  joke,  according  as  it 
was  received  by  the  company.    All  laughed. 

"Your  pun  is  very  naughty !  it's  witty,  but  it's  unfair,"  said 
Anna  Pavlovna,  in  French,  threatening  him  with  her  finger. 
"  We  do  not  wage  war  pour  le  roi  de  Prusse,  mais  pour  les  tons 
principes.  Ah!  le  meehant,  ce  Prince  Hippolyte!  —  this  bad 
Prince  Ippolit,"  said  she. 

The  conversation  had  not  languished  the  whole  evening, 
though  it  had  turned  principally  on  political  matters.  Toward 
the  end  of  the  evening,  it  grew  particularly  lively  on  the  topic 
of  the  rewards  bestowed  by  the  emperor. 

"  Now  last  year  N.  N.  received  a  snuff-box,  with  a  portrait," 
said  the  man  "  of  the  profound  mind."  "  Why  should  not  S. 
S.  receive  the  same  reward  ?  " 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  a  snuff-box  with  the  emperor's  portrait 
is  a  reward,  but  not  a  distinction  —  une  recompense,  mais point 
une  distinction/^  said  one  of  the  diplomats.     "  Eather  a  gift." 

"  There  have  been  precedents.  I  will  mention  Schwartzen- 
berg." 

"  It's  impossible,"  said  the  other.  "  I'll  bet  you.  Le  grand 
eordofiy  c^est  different" 

When  all  got  up  to  leave,  Ellen,  who  had  spoken  very  little 
all  the  evening,  addressed  Boris  again,  and  begged  him  with  the 
most  flattering  and  significant  expression  to  come  to  see  her 
the  following  Tuesday. 

"  It  will  be  a  very  great  favor  to  me,"  said  she,  with  a  smile, 
glancing  at  Anna  Pavlovna,  and  Anna  Pavlovna,  with  that 
same  melancholy  expression  which  always  accompanied  her 
words  when  she  spoke  of  her  august  protectress,  corroborated 
Ellen's  request. 

It  seemed  that  from  certain  words  spoken  by  Boris  that 
evening  concerning  the  Prussian  army,  Ellen  had  suddenly 
conceived  a  powerful  determination  to  see  him.  She  practi- 
cally promised  him  that  when  he  came  on  the  following  Tues- 
day, she  would  tell  him  what  it  was  that  made  her  wish  to  see 
him. 

But  when  on  the  Tuesday  evening,  Boris  reached  Ellen's 

*  An  untranslatable  joke :  pour  (e  roi  4e  Pru99e  means  /or  mere  trifie9. 
—  Avtbob's  Nots. 


04  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

salon,  he  received  no  explanation  that  made  it  plain  whj  he 
was  so  anxiously  desired  to  come.  There  were  other  guests ; 
the  countess  talked  very  little  with  him,  and  only  on  his  de- 
parture, just  as  he  was  kissing  her  hand,  she  unexpectedly 
whispered  to  him,  without  any  smile,  —  which  was  strange  for 
her, — 

"  Venez  demaln  diner —  le  soir.  R  faut  que  vous  veniez. 
Venez  /  " 

With  this  invitation  to  dinner,  to  which  he  was  so  imperi- 
ously bidden,  began  Boris's  intimacy  at  the  house  of  the  Count- 
ess Bezukhaya. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

Thb  war  was  growing  fiercer,  and  its  theatre  was  approach- 
ing the  Russian  frontiers.  Everywhere  were  heard  curses 
against  Bonaparte,  the  enemy  of  all  the  human  race.  In  all  the 
villages  of  the  Empire,  veterans  and  raw  recruits  were  form- 
ing into  companies,  and  from  the  theatre  of  war  came  conflict- 
ing rumors,  usually  false,  and  consequently  interpreted  in 
various  ways. 

The  life  of  the  old  Prince  Bolkonsky,  Prince  Andrei,  and 
the  Princess  Mariya,  had  changed  in  many  respects  since  the 
year  1805. 

In  1806,  the  old  prince  was  appointed  one  of  the  eight  com- 
manders-in-chief for  the  militia,  at  that  time  recruiting  all  over 
Russia.  The  old  prince,  in  spite  of  the  weaknesses  of  age, 
which  had  become  especially  noticeable  at  the  period  when 
he  supposed  that  his  son  was  killed,  felt  that  he  had  no  right 
to  refuse  the  duty  to  which  he  had  been  called  by  the  sove^ 
eign  in  person,  and  this  new  activity  into  which  he  entered 
stimulated  and  strengthened  him.  He  was  constantly  engaged 
in  journeying  about  the  three  governments  entrusted  to  him; 
he  carried  his  regulations  even  to  pedantry  ;  he  was  stern  and 
strict  even  to  cruelty  with  his  subordinates,  and  he  himself 
looked  into  the  smallest  details  of  his  work. 

The  Princess  Mariya  had  already  ceased  to  recite  her  lessons 
in  mathematics  to  her  father,  and  only  on  mornings  when  he 
was  at  home  did  she  go  to  his  cabinet,  accompanied  by  the  wet 
nurse  and  the  "little  Prince  Nikolai,"  as  his  grandfather  called 
him.  The  baby  prince,  with  his  wet  nurse  and  the  old  nyanya 
Savishna,  lived  in  the  apartments  which  had  been  occupied  by 
the  princess,  his  mother,  and  the  yoimg  Princess  Mariya  spent 


WAll  AND  PEACE.  95 

a  large  portion  of  the  day  in  the  nursery,  trying  to  the  best  of 
her  ability  to  take  the  place  of  mother  to  her  little  nephew. 
Mile.  Bourienne  also  apparently  felt  a  passionate  love  for  the 
child,  and  the  Princess  Mariya,  often  in  a  spirit  of  sacrifice, 
would  allow  her  friend  the  pleasure  of  attending  the  little 
"angel,"  as  she  called  her  nephew,  and  play  with  him. 

Near  the  altar  of  the  Luisorgorsky  church,  a  chapel  had 
been  built  to  the  memory  of  the  little  princess,  and  in  the 
chapel  was  placed  a  marble  monument  brought  from  Italy, 
representing  an  angel  with  outstretched  wings  as  if  about  to 
mount  to  heaven.  The  angel's  upper  lip  was  lifted  a  little,  as 
though  it  were  going  to  smile.  Once  Prince  Andrei  and  the 
Princess  Mariya,  as  they  came  out  of  the  chapel,  agreed  that 
the  face  of  the  angel  reminded  them  strangely  of  the  face  of 
the  departed.  But  what  was  still  stranger  —  and  this  Prince 
Andrei  did  not  remark  to  his  sister  —  was  that  in  this  ex- 
pression which  the  artist  had  accidentally  given  to  the  angel's 
face,  Prince  Andrei  read  those  very  words  of  sweet  reproach 
which  he  had  before  read  on  the  face  of  his  dead  wife, — 

"  Akh !  what  have  they  done  to  me  ?  " 

Shortly  after  Prince  Andrei's  return,  the  old  prince  had 
made  over  to  his  son  the  large  estate  of  Bogucharovo,  situated 
about  forty  versts  from  Luisiya  Gorui.  Partly  on  account  of 
the  sad  recollections  associated  with  Luisya  Gorui,  partly  be- 
cause Princes  Andrei  always  felt  himself  unable  to  endure  his 
father's  idiosyncracies,  and  partly  also  because  he  felt  the  need 
of  solitude,  ne  took  possession  of  Bogucharovo,  established 
himself  there,  and  there  spent  a  large  part  of  his  time. 

Prince  Andrei  after  the  battle  of  Austerlitz  had  resolutely 
made  up  his  mind  never  to  go  back  into  the  military  service 
again ;  and  when  the  war  began,  and  all  were  obliged  to  enlist, 
he,  in  order  to  escape  active  service,  accepted  a  position  under 
his  father's  command  in  the  recruiting  of  the  militia. 

Since  the  campaign  of  1805,  the  old  prince  and  his  son 
seemed  to  have  exchanged  parts :  the  father,  excited  by  active 
Hfe,  expected  all  that  was  good  from  the  campaign ;  Prince 
Andrei,  on  the  contrary,  not  taking  any  active  part  in  the  war, 
and  in  the  secret  depths  of  his  heart  regretting  it,  saw  only  a 
^rk  prospect  ahead. 

On  the  tenth  of  March,  1807,  the  old  prince  started  on  one 
of  his  circuits.  Prince  Andrei,  as  usual  during  his  father's 
absences,  stayed  at  Luisya  Gorui.  The  dear  little  Xikolushka 
had  not  been  quite  well  for  several  days.  The  coachman  who 
had  driven  the  old  prince  to  the  next  town  returned  and 


96  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

brought  documents  and  letters  for  Prince  Andrei.  The  valet, 
carrying  the  mail,  failing  to  find  the  prince  in  his  study,  went 
to  the  Princess  Mariya's  apartments,  but  he  was  not  there 
either.  The  valet  was  informed  that  the  prince  had  gone  to 
the  nursery. 

''If  you  please,  your  illustriousness,  Petrusha  has  come 
with  some  documents,"  said  one  of  the  maids  employed  in  the 
nursery,  addressing  Prince  Andrei,  who  was  sitting  in  a  child's 
small  chair,  and  with  knitted  brows  and  trembling  hands  was 
dropping  medicine  from  a  bottle  into  a  tumbler  half  fall  of 
water. 

"  What  did  you  say  ? "  said  he,  testily ;  and  by  an  un- 
guarded movement  of  his  trembling  hand  he  poured  too  many 
drops  into  the  glass  of  water.  He  threw  the  medicine  on  the 
fioor  and  asked  for  some  more  water.  The  maid  handed  it 
to  him. 

In  the  room  stood  a  child's  cradle,  two  chests,  two  arm 
chairs,  a  table,  a  child's  table,  and  the  little  chair  in  which 
Prince  Andrei  was  sitting.  The  windows  were  closely 
shaded,  and  on  th6  table  burned  a  single  candle  shaded  by 
a  bound  volume  of  music,  so  that  no  light  might  fall  on  the 
cradle. 

"My  dear,"  said  the  Princess  Mariya,  turning  to  her 
brother  from  the  cradle  by  which  she  was  standing,  "  You'd 
better  wait  —  until "  — 

"  Akh !  Please  be  kind  enough  —  you're  always  talking 
nonsense,  and  you're  always  procrastinating;  and  see  what  it 
has  led  to  now ! "  said  Prince  Andrei,  in  an  angry  whisper, 
with  the  manifest  intention  of  wounding  his  sister. 

"  My  dear,  truly  it  would  be  better  not  to  awaken  him ;  he 
is  asleep  now,"  said  the  princess  in  a  supplicating  voice. 

Prince  Andrei  got  up  and  went  over  on  tiptoes  to  the  cradle 
with  the  glass  in  his  hand. 

"  Had  we  really  better  not  wake  him,"  said  he,  irresolutely. 

"  Just  as  you  please ;  truly,  I  think  so.  But  just  as  you 
think  best,"  said  the  Princess  Mariya,  evidently  embarrassed 
and  a  little  ashamed  that  her  opinion  was  about  to  rule.  She 
called  her  brother's  attention  to  the  maid  who  was  speaking 
to  him  in  a  whisper. 

It  was  the  second  night  that  neither  of  them  had  got  any 
sleep  on  account  of  watching  over  the  baby,  which  was  suffer- 
ing from  a  sharp  attack  of  fever.  All  this  time,  since  they 
had  felt  very  little  confidence  in  their  own  domestic  physician 
and  were  expecting  one  to  be  sent  them  from  the  city,  they 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  97 

bad  disagreed  about  remedies,  one  preferring  one  thing,  the 
other,  another.  Suffering  from  sleeplessness  and  anxiety,  they 
each  blamed  the  other,  and  indulged  in  recriminations  which 
amounted  to  actual  quarrels. 

'<  Petrusha,  with  documents  from  your  papenka,''  whispered 
the  maid.    Prince  Andrei  went  out. 

''  The  devil  take  them,''  he  exclaimed,  and  after  hearing  the 
verbal  messages  from  his  father,  and  taking  the  envelopes  and 
letters,  he  went  back  to  the  nursery. 

**How  is  he  now  ?  "  asked  Prince  Andrei. 

"  Just  the  same.  We  must  await  the  mercy  of  God.  Karl 
Ivanuitch  always  declares  that  sleep  is  better  than  any  medi- 
erne"  whispered  the  Princess  Mariya  with  a  sigh. 

Prince  Andrei  went  to  the  child  and  felt  of  him.  He  was 
very  hot. 

"  The  mischief  take  you  and  your  Karl  Ivanuitch  ! "  He 
took  the  glass  with  the  medicine  which  he  had  dropped  into 
it  and  again  approached  the  cradle. 

"  Andre,  you  ought  not,"  exclaimed  the  Princess  Mariya. 

But  be  scowled  wrathfully  at  her,  and  at  the  same  time  with 
the  look  of  a  martyr,  and  bent  over  the  baby  with  his  glass. 
**  I  insist  upon  it,"  said  he.  "  Well,  then,  you  give  it  to 
him ! " 

The  Princess  Mariya  shrugged  her  shoulders,  but  obediently 
took  the  glass,  and  calling  the  nurse  to  help,  tried  to  give  the 
child  the  medicine.  Tlie  baby  screamed  and  strangled. 
Prince  Andrei  scowling,  clasped  his  hands  to  his  head,  left  the 
room  and  sat  down  on  a  sofa  in  the  next  room. 

The  letters  were  still  in  his  hands.  He  mechanically  opened 
them  and  began  to  read  them.  The  old  prince  in  his  large 
scrawly  hand^  sometimes  employing  abbreviations  and  quaint 
archaic  words,  wrote  on  blue  paper  as  follows, — 

I  have  jnst  at  this  moment  received  very  agreeable  news  —  unless  it's 
a  canard.  Beiiigsen  is  said  to  have  gained  a  complete  victx>ry  over  Buona- 
parte at  Eylau.  They  are  wild  with  delight  at  Petersburg,  and  endless 
rewards  have  been  distributed  in  the  army.  Though  he's  a  German,  I 
congratulate  him.  I  cannot  imagine  what  that  nachalnik,  Hendrikof,  is 
doing  at  KorcheTo;  so  far  no  reinforcements  or  provisions  have  come 
from  him.  Go  there  as  quick  as  you  can  and  tell  him  that  I  will  take  his 
Iiead  off,  if  everything  is  not  here  within  a  week's  time.  I  luive  received 
additional  news  about  the  Battle  of  Eylau  through  a  letter  from  Petinka: 
he  took  part —  it's  all  tiiie.  When  mischief-makers  do  not  meddle,  then 
even  a  German  can  beat  Buonaparte.  They  say  he  is  retreating  in  great 
disorder.  See  that  you  go  to  Korchevo  without  delay  and  hurry  tmnga 
along. 

T0U2.— 7. 


98  WAR  AI^D  PEACE. 

Prince  Andrei  sighed  and  tore  open  another  envelope.  This 
was  a  closely  written  letter  from  Bilibin,  filling  two  sheets. 
He  folded  it  up  without  reading  it,  and  again  perused  the 
letter  from  his  father  ending  with  the  words :  —  "  Gro  to  Kor- 
chevo  without  delay  and  hurry  things  along." 

"  No,  excuse  me,  I  will  not  go  now,  when  my  baby  is  still 
sick,''  he  said  to  himself,  and  stepping  to  the  door  he  looked 
into  the  nursery.  Princess  Mariya  still  stood  by  the  cradle, 
and  was  gently  rocking  the  child.  • 

<^Yes,  what  in  the  name  of  goodness  was  that  other  dis- 
agreeable thing  that  he  wrote  ?  "  asked  Prince  Andrei,  trying 
to  recall  his  father's  letter.  "  Oh,  yes.  Our  men  have  won  a 
victory  over  Bonaparte,  now  that  I  am  not  there  to  take  part. 
Yes,  yes ;  he  will  have  a  good  chance  to  make  sport  of  me ; 
well  let  him  if  he  wants  "  — 

And  he  began  to  read  Bilibin's  letter.  He  read  without 
understanding  half  of  it,  read  it  simply  for  the  sake  of  forget- 
ting for  the  moment  what  had  been  painfully  occupying  his 
thoughts  to  the  exclusion  of  everything  else  for  quite  too  long. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

BiLTBiN  now  found  himself  in  the  quality  of  a  diplomatic 
chinovnik  at  the  headquarters  of  the  army  and  though  he 
wrote  in  French  with  French  jests  and  phraseology,  stUl  he 
described  the  whole  campaign  with  genuine  Russian  fearless- 
ness, not  sparing  reproaches  or  sarcasms.  He  wrote  that  the 
discretion  imposed  upon  him  by  the  necessities  of  diplomacy 
annoyed  him,  and  that  he  was  glad  to  have  in  Prince  Andrei 
an  ingenuous  correspondent,  to  whom  he  was  able  to  pour  out 
all  the  spleen  which  had  been  accumulating  in  him  at  the 
sight  of  what  was  going  on  in  the  army.  This  letter  was  of 
somewhat  ancient  date,  having  been  penned  even  before  the 
battle  of  Preussisch-Eylau.     Bilibin  wrote  as  follows :  *  — 

Since  our  great  success  at  Austerlitz,  niy  dear  prince.  I  have  been, 
as  you  may  know,  constantly  at  headquarters.  I  have  conceived  a  de- 
cided taste  for  war  and  so  much  the  better  for  me.  What  I  have  wit^ 
nessed  these  past  three  months  is  beyond  belief  ! 

I  will  be^  ab  ovo  —  at  the  very  beginning.  The  "enemy  of  the 
human  race/'  as  you  are  well  aware,  has  been  attacking  the  Pnissians. 
The  Prussians  are  our  faithful  allies,  who  have  only  duped  us  three 
times  within  three  years.    Consequently,  we  take  up  their  cause.    Bat  it 

*  This  letter  is  in  French  in  the  oiifinal. 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  99 

proves  that  the  "  enemy  of  the  hnman  race  "  pays  no  attention  to  our  fine 
speeches,  and  in  accordance  with  his  rough  and  untrained  nature,  flings 
hiiuself  on  the  Prussians  without  allowing  them  to  finish  their  pai*ade,  in 
dtiort  metre  heats  them  all  hollow  —  les  rosse  h  plate  eoHture  —  and  makes 
himself  at  home  hi  the  palace  at  Potsdam. 

"  I  have  the  most  earnest  desire/'  writes  the  King  of  Prussia,  to  Bona- 
parte, 'Hhat  your  majesty  should  he  received  and  treated  in  my  palace  as 
would  be  most  agreeable  to  you,  and  I  hasten  to  take  all  measures  to  this 
end  that  circumstances  permit.   I  only  hope  that  I  liave  been  successful ! " 

The  Prussian  generals  make  it  a  point  of  honor  to  be  gracious 
toward  the  French  and  lay  down  their  arms  at  the  first  summons. 

The  principal  officer  of  the  garrison  of  Glogau  with  ten  thousand 
men,  asks  the  Kmg  of  Prussia  what  he  shall  do  if  lie  is  called  upon  to  sur- 
render.   Fact ! 

In  short,  while  hoping  to  make  a  great  impression  solely  by  our  mili- 
tary attitude,  lo  and  behold !  here  we  are  in  for  a  real  war  and  what  is 
worse,  for  a  war  on  our  own  frontiers  avec  et  potir  le  roi  de  PruBse  I 

Everything  is  all  ready;  we  lack  only  one  trifling  thing;  that  is,  a 
eeneral-in-chief.  As  it  has  been  discovered  that  the  success  of  Auster- 
nta  might  have  been  more  decided,  if  only  the  general-in-chief  had  boon 
older,  all  the  octogenarians  have  been  brought  forward,  and  between 
Prosorovsky  and  Kamensky,  the  preference  has  been  given  to  the  latter. 
The  general  comes  to  us  in  a  kibitka  after  the  style  of  Suvarof,  and  is 
received  with  acdamatioi^  of  ioy  and  triumph. 

On  the  fourth  comes  t^e  nrst  courier  from  Petersburg.  The  mail  is 
brought  into  the  roarsbal's  nQdy,  as  he  likes  to  do  everything  personally. 
I  am  summoned  to  help  sort  the  letters  and  take  those  addressed  to  our- 
selves. The  marshal  looks  on  while  we  work,  and  waits  for  the  packases 
addressed  to  him.  We  search  them  over,  but  there  is  not  one.  The 
marshal  becomes  impatient  and  sets  to  work  himself  and  finds  letters  from 
the  emperor  for  Count  T.,  for  Prince  V.,  and  others.  Then  lo,  and  be- 
hold 1  he  goes  off  into  one  of  his  blue  rages.  He  shoots  fire  and  flames 
against  everybody;  he  seizes  the  letters,  breaks  their  seals  and  reads  those 
which  the  emperor  has  written  to  others. 

''So  that's  the  way  I  am  treated!  They  have  no  confidence  in  me! 
Ah,  that's  a  fine  notion,  setting  others  to  watch  my  actions!  Away 
with  you."  And  he  writes  his  famous  order  of  the  day  to  Greueral 
Benlgsen : 

"  I  am  wounded,  and  cannot  ride  on  horseback,  and  consequently  can 
not  command  the  army.  You  have  taken  your  defeated  corps  d'amiee 
into  Pultusk;  there  it  is  exposed,  and  lacks  firewood  and  provender,  and, 
as  you  yourself  reported  last  evening  to  Count  Buxhovden,  you  must  de- 
vise measures  for  retiring  beyond  our  frontier;  see  that  this  is  done 
toHlay." 

**  Owing  to  all  my  riding  on  horseback,"  he  writes  to  the  emperor,  *'  I 
liave  become  galled  by  the  saddle,  which,  in  addition  to  my  fonner  infir- 
mities, entirely  prevents  me  from  riding  on  horseback  and  commanding 
such  an  extensive  army,  and  therefore  I  have  transferred  the  command 
to  Count  Buxhovden,  who  is  next  in  seniority  to  myself,  givins  him  the 
whole  charge,  and  advising  him,  in  case  he  cannot  obtain  bread,  to  move 
nearer  to  the  interior  of  Prussia,  since  only  enough  bread  is  left  for  one 
day,  ami  some  of  the  regiments  have  none  at  all,  according  to  the  reports 
of  the  division  commandei-s,  Ostermann  and  Sedmoretsky,  and  the  pea- 
sants, also,  have  nothing  left.  And  I  myself  shall  remain  in  the  hospital 
at  Ostrolenko  until  I  am  well.    In  offering,  most  respectfully,  this  report, 


100  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

I  would  add,  that  if  this  army  remain  another  fortnight  in  its  present 
bivouac,  by  spring  there  will  not  be  a  single  sound  soldier  left. 

**  Permit  an  old  man  to  retire  to  the  country,  since  he  is  now  so  feeble 
that  he  finds  it  impossible  to  fulfil  the  G[reat  and  glorious  duty  for  whicli 
he  was  chosen.  I  shall  await  vour  all-gracious  permission  here  in  the 
hospital,  so  as  not  to  play  the  role  of  a  clerk  instead  of  commander  at  the 
head  of  the  army.  Of  men  like  myself  there  are  thousands  in  Russia.*' 
The  marshal  is  vexed  with  the  emperor,  and  punishes  ail  of  us  for  IL 
Isn't  that  logical  ? 

Thus  ends  the  first  act.  In  those  that  follow,  the  interest  and  the 
absurdity  increase  in  proper  degree.  After  the  marshal's  departure,  It  is 
discovered  that  we  are  in  sight  of  the  enemy,  and  must  fight.  Buxhorden 
is  commander-general-in-chief  by  order  of  seniority,  but  General  Benig- 
sen  is  not  of  this  opinion ;  all  the  more  because  it  is  he  and  liis  corps  who 
are  in  sight  of  the  enemy,  and  he  is  anxious  to  profit  by  the  occasion  to 
fight  a  battle  on  his  own  account,  **au3  eigene  Hand,^*  as  the  Germaiu 
say.  He  does  so.  This  is  the  battle  of  Pultusk,  which  Is  reported  to  be 
a  great  victory,  but  which,  in  my  opinion,  was  no  victory  at  all.  We 
civilians — nous  aiUres  pikin8  —  have,  as  you  are  well  aware,  a  very 
wretched  habit  of  making  up  our  own  minds  in  regard  to  the  gain  or  loss 
of  a  battle.  The  one  who  retires  after  the  battle  is  the  loser,  so  we  ssy, 
and  in  this  respect  we  lost  the  battle  of  Pultusk. 

In  short,  we  retreat  after  the  battle,  but  we  send  a  courier  to  Petersburg 
to  carry  the  news  of  the  victory,  and  the  general  refuses  to  surrender  the 
chief  command  to  Buxhovden,  hoping  to  receive  from  Petersburg  the 
title  of  general-in-chief  as  a  reward  for  his  victory. 

During  this  interregnum,  we  begin  an  excessively  interesting  and  orig^ 
inal  scheme  of  manoeuvres.  Our  design  consists  not,  as  it  should  have 
been,  in  avoiding  or  attacking  tlie  enemy,  but  solely  of  avoiding  General 
Buxhovden,  who  by  right  of  seniority  should  be  our  chief.  We  pursue 
this  plan  with  so  much  energy,  that  even  in  crossing  an  unfordabie  river 
we  burn  our  bridges  to  cut  o£f  the  enemy,  who  for  the  nonce  is  not  Bona- 
paile  but  Buxhovden.  General  Buxhovden  just  misses  being  attacked 
and  taken  by  overwhelming  forces  of  the  enemy  by  reason  of  one  of  our 
pretty  manoeuvres  which  saves  us  from  him.  Buxhovden  pursues  us,— 
we  sneak  away.  As  soon  as  he  crosses  to  our  side  of  the  river  we  cross 
back  again.  At  last  our  enemy,  Buxhovden,  catches  up  with  us,  and 
attacks  us.  The  two  generals  have  a  quarrel.  Buxhovden  even  goes  so 
far  as  to  send  a  challenge,  and  Benigsen  has  an  attack  of  epilepsy. 

But  at  the  critical  moment  tlie  courier  who  carried  the  news  of  oar 
victory  at  Pultusk,  returns  with  our  nomination  as  general-in-^hief,  and 
our  enemy  No.  1  is  done  for.  We  can  think  of  No.  2,  Bonapsrte. 
But  what  do  you  suppose  ?  Just  at  this  moment  tliere  rises  l)efore  us  s 
third  enemy,  the  ;;raro«facnoye,  —  the  orthodox  army,  —  loudly  clamoring 
for  bread,  for  meat,  for  mkhari,*  for  hay,  and  what  not!  The  stores  are 
empty;  the  roads  impassible.  The  pravoslavnoye  set  themselves  to  ma- 
rauding, and  in  a  way  of  which  the  last  campaign  would  not  give  yon  the 
slightest  notion.  Half  of  the  regiments  form  themselves  into  freebooters, 
scouring  the  country  and  putting  everything  to  fire  and  sword.  The  na- 
tives are  ruined,  root  and  branch ;  the  hospitals  are  overflowing  with  sick* 
and  famine  is  everywhere.  Twice  the  headquarters  have  been  attacked 
by  troops  of  marauders,  and  the  general-in-chief  has  himself  been 
obliged  to  ask  for  a  battalion  to  drive  them  off.     In  one  of  these 

*  Biscuits,  hard-tack. 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  101 

attacks  my  empty  tnmk  and  my  dressing-gown  was  carried  off.  The  em- 
peror has  consented  to  grant  all  the  division  chiefs  the  right  to  shoot  the 
marauders,  but  I  very  much  fear  that  such  a  course  would  oblige  one  half 
of  the  army  to  shoot  the  other  half. 

Prince  Andrei  at  first  read  with  his  eyes  alone,  but  gradually, 
in  spite  of  himself,  what  he  was  reading  —  in  spite  of  the  fact 
that  he  was  well  aware  of  how  far  Biblin  was  to  be  trusted 
— began  to  absorb  him  more  and  more.  Having  read  thus  far 
he  crumpled  up  the  latter  and  threw  it  aside.  It  was  not  what 
he  had  read  in  the  letter  that  moved  his  indignation,  but 
rather  the  fact  that  the  life  there,  so  remote  and  foreign  to 
him  now,  had  still  the  power  to  stir  him.  He  closed  his  eyes, 
rubbed  his  forehead  with  his  hand,  as  though  to  drive  away  all 
recollection  of  what  he  had  been  reading  —  and  listened  to 
what  was  going  on  in  the  nursery. 

Suddenly,  it  seemed  to  him  that  he  heard  a  strange  sound 
there.  A  great  fear  came  over  him ;  he  was  afraid  that  some- 
thing might  have  happened  to  his  baby  while  he  was  reading 
the  letter.  He  went  to  the  nursery  door  on  his  tiptoes,  and 
opened  it. 

As  he  went  in,  he  noticed  that  the  nurse,  with  a  frightened 
face,  was  hiding  something  from  him,  and  the  Princess  Mariya 
was  no  longer  by  the  cradle. 

"  My  dear,"  he  heard  behind  him,  in  the  frightened  voice,  as 
it  seemed  to  him,  of  his  sister.  As  often  occurs  after  long 
wakefulness  and  keen  emotion,  a  causeless  panic  came  over 
him;  he  imagined  that  the  child  might  be  dying,  or  dead. 
All  that  he  heard  and  saw  seemed  to  confirm  his  fear. 

"  It  is  all  over,"  he  said  to  himself,  and  a  cold  sweat  stood 
out  on  his  brow.  He  went  to  the  cradle  in  great  apprehension, 
firmly  convinced  that  he  should  find  it  empty,  that  the  nurse 
girl  was  hiding  his  dead  baby !  He  drew  the  curtains  aside, 
and  it  was  some  time  before  his  frightened,  wandering  eyes 
could  find  the  child.  At  last  he  saw  him.  The  little  one,  all 
rosy,  lay  sprawled  out  across  the  cradle,  with  his  head  lower 
than  the  pillow,  and  was  smacking  his  lips  in  his  sleep  and 
breathing  regularly 

Prince  Andrei  was  perfectly  delighted  to  see  the  child  so, 
when  he  was  already  beginning  to  think  that  he  had  lost  him. 
He  bent  over,  and,  as  his  sister  had  instructed  him,  felt  with 
his  lips  whether  the  baby's  fever  had  gone.  The  sweet  brow 
was  moist ;  he  passed  his  hand  over  the  little  head,  and  the 
soft  hair  was  also  moist,  the  baby  was  in  such  a  perspiration  ! 
Not  only  was  the  baby  not  dead,  but  he  was  aware  now  that 


102  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

the  crisis  had  passed,  and  that  he  was  better.  He  felt  a  strong 
inclination  to  snatch  up  this  helpless  little  creature  and  press 
it  to  his  heart ;  but  he  dared  not  do  so.  He  stood  over  him, 
looking  at  his  head,  and  at  his  little  arms  and  feet  which  had 
thrown  off  the  coverings.  He  heard  a  rustling  behind  him, 
and  thought  he  saw  a  shadow  outlined  on  the  curtain  of  tiie 
cradle.  But  he  did  not  look  around,  but  gazed  into  the  baby's 
face,  still  listening  to  his  regular  breathing.  The  dark  shadow 
w^as  the  Princess  Mariya,  who,  with  noiseless  steps,  came  to 
the  cradle,  lifted  the  curtain,  and  dropped  it  after  her.  Prince 
Andrei,  without  looking  around,  recognized  her,  and  stretched 
out  his  hand  to  her.     She  pressed  his  hand. 

"  He  is  in  a  perspiration,'*  said  Prince  Andrei. 

"  I  had  gone  out  to  tell  you." 

The  baby  stirred  a  little  in  his  sleep,  smiled,  and  rubbed  his 
forehead  against  the  pillow.  Prince  Andrei  looked  at  his  sis- 
ter. The  Princess  Mariya's  lustrous  eyes  in  the  subdued  twi- 
light of  the  curtains  gleamed  more  than  usually  bright  with 
happy  tears.  She  leaned  over  to  her  brother  and  kissed  him, 
slightly  catching  her  dress  in  the  material  of  the  curtain. 
Each  made  the  other  a  warning  gesture  and  stood  quiet  for  a 
moment  under  the  faint  light  of  the  ~Burtain,  as  though  they 
wished  still  to  remain  in  that  world  in  which  they  were  shut 
off  from  all  the  rest  of  the  universe.  Prince  Andrei  was  the 
first  to  move  away  from  the  cradle,  getting  his  head  entangled 
in  the  muslin  of  the  curtain  as  he  did  so. 

"Yes,  that  is  all  that  is  left  me  now/'  said  he,  with  a 
sigh. 

CHAPTER  X. 

Shortly  after  his  reception  into  the  Masonic  Brotherhood, 
Pierre,  with  full  instructions  given  him  for  his  guidance  in 
managing  his  estates,  reached  the  government  of  Kief,  where 
the  larger  number  of  his  serfs  were  to  be  found. 

When  he  reached  Kief,  he  summoned  all  his  overseers,  and 
explained  his  intentions  and  desires.  He  told  them  that  meas- 
ures would  be  immediately  taken  for  the  unconditional  emanci- 
pation from  servitude  of  all  his  serfs,  that  till  this  were  done  the 
peasants  must  not  be  constrained  to  hard  work,  that  the  women 
and  children  must  not  be  required  to  work  at  all ;  that  assis- 
tance was  to  be  freely  rendered  the  peasantry ;  that  corporal 
piuiishments  were  not  to  be  employed,  but  reprimands  f  and 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  108 

that  on  each  of  his  estates,  hospitals,  asylums,  and  schools 
were  to  be  established. 

Some  of  the  overseers  —  and  in  the  number  were  half-edu- 
cated ekonovuj  or  stewards  —  listened  with  dismay,  supposing 
that  the  young  count's  speech  meant  that  he  was  dissatisfied 
with  their  management,  or  had  discovered  how  they  had  been 
embezzling  his  funds.  Others,  after  their  first  panic,  found 
amusement  in  Pierre's  thick,  stumbling  speech,  and  the  new 
words  which  they  had  never  before  heard ;  a  third  set  found 
simply  a  certain  sense  of  satisfaction  in  hearing  their  barin 
talk ;  a  fourth,  and  these  were  the  sharpest,  and  at  their  head 
the  chief  overseer,  perceived  from  this  talk  how  it  behooved 
them  to  manage  with  their  barin,  in  order  to  subserve  their  own 
ends. 

The  chief  overseer  expressed  great  sympathy  in  Pierre's 
proposed  plans ;  but  he  remarked  that  over  and  above  these 
reforms,  it  was  indispensable  to  make  a  general  investigation 
of  his  affairs,  which  were  in  a  sufficiently  unfortunate  state. 

In  spite  of  Count  Bezukhoi's  enormous  wealth  at  the  time 
when  Pierre  entered  upon  his  inheritance  —  and  it  was  said 
that  he  had  an  income  of  five  hundred  thousand  rubles  a  year 
—  he  felt  himself  much  poorer  than  when  he  received  an  al- 
lowance of  ten  thousand  a  year  from  his  late  father.  He  had 
a  general  dim  idea  that  his  expenses  were  somewhat  as  follows  : 
interest  to  the  "  Society,"  *  about  eighty  thousand  rubles,  on 
all  his  possessions ;  about  thirty  thousand  stood  him  for  the 
maintenance  of  his  house  in  Moscow,  and  his  Fodmoskovnaya, 
and  the  support  of  the  three  princesses ;  about  fifteen  thou- 
sand went  in  pensions ;  as  much  to  various  charitable  institu- 
tions ;  one  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  were  put  down  for  sup- 
port of  the  countess ;  about  seventy  thousand  went  in  interest 
on  his  debts ;  the  building  of  a  church  which  he  had  begun  a 
couple  of  years  l>efore,  cost  him  about  ten  thousand  a  year ;  the 
rest,  not  far  from  one  hundred  thousand  was  expended,  he  him- 
self knew  not  how,  and  almost  every  year  he  found  himself 
obliged  to  borrow.  Moreover,  each  year  his  chief  overseer  had 
written  to  him  about  fires,  about  bad  harvests,  about  the  neces- 
sity of  building  new  factories  and  works.  And  thus  Pierre 
was  first  thing  confronted  by  what  he  had  not  the  slightest 
taste  or  capacity  for,  the  settlement  of  his  affairs. 

Pierre  each  day  spent  some  time  with  his  chief  overseer  in 
this  business;  but  he  was  conscious  that  his  efforts  did  not 

•  Opehunshy  Sovyit,  the  famous  bank  supported  by  the  State,  that  loaned 
money  on  land  and  peraonal  property,  including  serfs. 


104  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

advance  his  interests  a  single  step.  He  was  conscious  that  his 
efforts  were  wasted  on  this  business,  that  they  did  not  have 
the  slightest  influence  on  his  affairs,  and  were  not  calculated 
to  help  him  on  with  his  schemes.  On  the  one  hand,  his 
head  overseer  pictured  his  affairs  in  the  gloomiest  colors, 
pointing  out  to  Pierre  the  absohite  necessity  of  paying  his 
debts  and  undertaking  new  enterprises  with  the  labor  of 
his  peasantry',  a  thing  to  which  Pierre  refused  to  listen ;  on 
the  other  hand,  Pierre  insisted  on  the  project  of  emancipating 
his  serfs,  but  to  this  the  overseer  opposed  the  imperious  neces- 
sity of  first  paying  the  mortgage  held  by  the  Opekunsky,  or 
Orphan's  Aid  Society,  and  consequently  the  impossibility  of 
accomplishing  the  business  rapidly. 

The  overseer  did  not  say  that  this  was  absolutely  impossi- 
ble ;  he  proposed  for  bringing  this  about,  the  selling  of  certain 
forests  in  the  Government  of  Kostroma,  some  river  lands,  and 
an  estate  in  the  Crimea.  But  all  these  operations  proposed 
by  the  overseer  entailed  complicated  legal  proceedings,  re- 
plevins, permits,  licenses,  and  so  forth,  so  that  Pierre  quite 
lost  his  wits,  and  merely  said,  "  Yes,  yes,  do  so  then." 

Pierre  was  not  possessed  of  that  practical  bent  for  business 
which  would  have  enabled  him  to  grasp  the  whole  matter 
immediately,  and  condequently  he  disliked  it  all  and  merely 
pretended  to  take  an  interest  in  it  in  the  overseer's  presence. 
The  overseer,  on  his  side,  pretended  to  consider  all  these  ef- 
forts advantageous  for  the  proprietor,  and  troublesome  for  him- 
self. 

In  the  large  city  of  Kief,  the  capital  of  the  province,  Pierre 
had  some  acquaintances :  those  whom  he  did  not  know  made 
haste  to  pay  their  respects  to  him,  and  gladly  welcomed  the 
millionaire,  the  largest  landowner  of  the  whole  government. 
The  temptations  that  assailed  Pierre  in  his  principal  weak- 
ness —  as  he  had  confessed  at  the  time  of  his  enti'ance  into 
the  Lodge  —  were  also  so  powerful  that  he  could  not  resist 
them.  Again,  whole  days,  weeks,  months  of  his  life  si>ed 
away,  constantly  occupied  with  parties*,  dinners,  breakfasts, 
balls,  just  as  it  had  been  in  Petersburg,  so  that  he  had  no 
time  whatever  for  serious  thoughts.  Instead  of  the  new  life 
which  he  had  hoped  to  lead,  he  still  went  on  with  the  same 
old  routine,  only  in  different  surroundings. 

Of  the  three  obligations  of  Freemasonry,  Pierre  acknowl- 
edged that  he  was  not  fulfilling  the  one  that  enjoined  upon 
every  Mason  to  be  a  model  of  moral  living ;  and  of  the  seven 
precepts  of  virtue,  two  he  had  not  taken  to  hearty — virtaous 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  105 

iiving  and  love  for  death.  He  comforted  himself  with  the 
thought  that  he  was  fulfilling  one  of  the  other  obligations,  — 
the  reformation  of  the  humau  race,  and  that  he  possessed  the 
other  virtues,  love  to  his  neighbor,  and  particularly  liberality. 

In  the  spring  of  the  year  1807,  Pierre  determined  to  return 
to  Petersburg,  making  on  his  way  a  visit  to  all  of  his  posses- 
sionsy  so  as  to  assure  himself  as  to  what  had  been  done 
toward  carrying  out  his  orders,  and  personally  to  learn  in 
what  condition  lived  the  peasantry  entrusted  to  him  by  God, 
and  whom  he  was  striving  to  benefit. 

His  head  overseer,  who  considered  all  of  the  young  count*s 
ideas  as  perfectly  chimerical  —  disadvantageous  for  himself, 
for  him,  for  the  peasants  themselves  —  had  made  some  conces- 
sions. Though  he  still  represented  that  the  emancipation  of 
the  serfs  was  an  impossibility,  he  had  made  arrangements  for 
the  extensive  erection  on  all  the  estates,  of  schools,  hospitals, 
and  asylums,  against  the  coming  of  the  barin  :  everywhere  he 
made  arrangements  for  receptions,  not,  to  be  sure,  on  a 
sumptuous  and  ms^iificent  scale  which  he  knew  would  dis- 
please the  young  count,  but  rather  semi-i-eligious  and  thanks- 
giving  processions,  with  sacred  images  and  the  traditional 
kkly^hsol — or  bread  and  salt  —  the  Russian  symbol  of  hos- 
pitality ;  such  demonstrations  in  fact  as  he  was  certain  from 
his  knowledge  of  his  barin's  character  would  deeply  touch  him 
and  delude  him. 

The  southern  spring,  the  comfortable,  rapid  journey  in  his 
Vienna  calash,  and  the  solitude  in  which  he  travelled,  had  made 
a  most  pleasant  impression  on  Pierre.  These  estates,  none  of 
which  he  had  ever  seen  before,  were  each  more  picturesque 
than  the  other;  the  peasantry  everywhere  appeared  prosper- 
ous and  touchingly  grateful  to  him  for  the  benefits  which  he 
was  heaping  upon  him.  Everywhere  they  met  him  with  pro- 
cessions and  receptions,  which,  though  they  embarrassed  him, 
filled  his  heart  with  a  pleasant  sensation. 

In  one  place,  the  peasants  brought  him  the  khly^sol  and  a 
holy  picture  of  Peter  and  Paul,  and  besought  his  permission 
to  add  at  their  own  expense,  in  honor  of  his  name  day  and  as 
a  sign  of  their  love  and  gratitude  to  him  for  the  benefits  con- 
ferred upon  them,  a  new  chantry  to  the  church. 

In  another  place  he  was  met  by  women  with  children  at  the 
breast,  who  thanked  him  for  freeing  them  from  hard  work. 

On  a  third  estate,  he  was  met  by  a  priest  carrying  a  cross 
and  surrounded  by  children,  to  whom,  through  the  count's  lib- 
erality, he  was  teaching  reading  and  religion. 


106  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

On  all  his  estates  he  saw  with  his  own  eyes  the  massive 
stone  foundations  of  edifices  for  hospitals,  schools,  and  alms- 
houses, building  or  almost  built,  and  ready  to  be  opened  in  a 
short  time.  Everywhere,  Pierre  saw  from  the  accounts  of  his 
overseers  that  enforced  labor  had  been  greatly  reduced  from 
what  it  had  been,  and  he  listened  to  the  affecting  expressions 
of  gratitude  from  deputations  of  serfs  in  their  blue  kaftans. 

But  Pierre  had  no  knowledge  of  the  fact  that  where  he  had 
been  met  with  the  bread  and  salt,  and  where  they  were  building 
the  chantry  of  Peter  and  Paul,  it  was  a  commercial  village 
where  a  varmarka.  or  annual  bazaar  was  held  on  Saint  PetePs 
day ;  that  the  chantry  had  been  begun  long  before  by  some 
well-to-do  muzhiks  of  the  village,  the  very  ones  in  fact  who 
came  to  meet  him,  while  nine  tenths  of  the  peasants  of  this 
same  village  lived  in  the  profoundest  destitution^ 

He  did  not  know  that  in  consequence  of  his  order  to  cease  em- 
ploying nursing  women  at  work  on  his  fields,  these  very  same 
women  were  forced  to  do  vastly  harder  work  on  their  own  lots 
of  communal  land.  He  did  not  know  that  the  priest  who 
came  to  meet  him  with  his  cross  oppressed  the  muzhiks  with 
his  exactions,  and  that  the  pupils  who  accompanied  him  were 
placed  with  him  at  the  cost  of  tears,  and  were  often  ran- 
somed back  by  their  parents  for  large  sums  of  money. 

He  did  not  know  that  the  edifices  built,  according  to  his  plan, 
of  stone  were  the  work  of  his  own  laborers,  and  greatly  in- 
creased the  forced  service  of  his  serfs,  which  was  really  di- 
minished only  on  paper. 

He  did  not  know  that  where  the  overseers  pointed  out  to 
him  on  the  books  the  reduction  of  the  serf's  obrolcs,  or  money 
payments,  by  one  third,  the  consequence  was  that  an  amount 
corresponding  was  added  to  the  forced  lal)or  of  the  peasantry. 

And  so  Pierre  was  in  raptures  over  his  tour  among  his  es- 
tates, and  he  fell  back  fully  into  that  philanthropical  frame  of 
mind  in  which  he  had  left  Petersburg,  and  he  wrote  enthusi- 
astic letters  to  his  "preceptor-brother,"  as  he  called  the  Grand 
Master. 

"  How  easy  it  is,  how  little  strength  it  requires  to  do  so 
much  good,"  said  Pierre  to  himself.  "And  how  little  we 
trouble  ourselves  about  it ! " 

He  was  happy  over  the  gratitude,  but  felt  mortified  to  be 
the  recipient  of  it.  This  gratitude  made  him  think  how  veir 
much  more  he  might  have  easily  done  for  these  simple-hearted, 
kindly  people. 

The  chief-overseer^  a  thoroughly  obstinate  and  wily  man, 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  107 

• 

perfectly  comprehending  the  intelligent  but  naive  young  count, 
and  playing  with  him  as  with  a  toy,  when  he  saw  the  effect 
produced  upon  him  by  the  receptions  that  he  had  himself 
so  skilfully  arranged,  approached  him  all  the  more  resolutely 
with  arguments  for  the  impossibility  and,  above  all,  the  use- 
lessness  of  emancipating  the  serfs,  who  were  perfectly  happy 
and  contented  as  they  were. 

Pierre  in  the  depths  of  his  soul  agreed  with  the  overseer 
that  it  would  be  hard  to  imagine  people  more  happy  and  con- 
tented, and  that  God  only  knew  what  would  happen  to  them 
if  they  had  their  freedom,  but  still,  though  against  his  better 
judgment,  he  insisted  upon  what  he  felt  was  only  justice. 

The  overseer  promised  to  do  all  in  his  power  to  carry  out 
the  count's  desires,  clearly  comprehending  that  the  count 
would  never  be  in  a  position  to  assure  himself  whether  all  his 
plans  for  the  disposal  of  his  forests  and  other  lands  for  the 
sake  of  redeeming  his  mortgages  to  the  Society  had  been 
carried  out,  or  would  ever  ask  or  know  how  his  costly  edifices 
would  stand  empty,  and  the  peasants  would  continue  to  contri- 
bnte  their  labor  and  money,  just  the  same  as  they  did  on  other 
estates ;  that  is,  the  utmost  that  they  could  give. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

Os  his  return  from  his  southern  joutney,  in  the  happiest 
frame  of  mind,  Pierre  carried  out  his  long-cherished  purpose 
of  going  to  make  a  visit  to  his  old  friend  Bolkonsky,  whom  he 
had  not  seen  for  two  years. 

Bogucharovo  was  situated  in  the  midst  of  a  fiat  and  uninter- 
esting region,  diversified  with  fields  and  forests  of  birch  and 
evergreens,  cleared  and  uncleared.  The  harsky  dvor,  or  pro- 
prietor's place,  was  situated  at  one  end  of  the  straggling  vil- 
lage which  extended  along  on  both  sides  of  the  straight  high- 
way. In  front  was  a  pond,  recently  dug  and  filled  with  water, 
though  the  grass  had  not  yet  had  a  chance  to  grow  on  the 
banks  around ;  the  house  stood  in  the  midst  of  a  young  grove, 
some  of  the  trees  of  which  were  pines  and  firs. 

The  barsky  dvar  consisted  of  a  granary  and  threshing-floor, 
the  house  servants'  quarters,  the  stable,  a  bathhouse,  and  the 
wings  of  a  gre-at  stone  mansion,  the  semicircular  facade  of  which 
was  in  process  of  erection.  Around  the  house,  a  young  garden 
was  phmted.  The  fences  were  strong  and  the  paths  were  new ; 
under  a  shed  stood  two  fire-engines  and  a  barrel,  painted  a 


r 


108  WA  H  AND  PEA CE. 

vivid  green.  The  paths  were  straight,  the  bridges  were  well 
built  and  had  railings.  Everything  bore  the  impress  of  ex- 
treme care  and  good  management. 

The  house-serfs  who  met  Pierre,  in  answer  to  his  question 
where  the  prince  lived,  pointed  to  a  small  building  standing  at 
the  very  edge  of  the  pond.  Prince  Andrei's  old  body  servant, 
Anton,  helped  Pierre  down  from  the  calash,  told  him  that  the 
prince  was  at  home,  and  led  him  into  a  neat  little  anteroom. 

Pierre  was  struck  by  the  modesty  of  this  diminutive  though 
scrupulously  clean  little  house,  after  the  brilliant  conditions 
of  existence  in  which  he  had  last  seen  his  friend  in  Peters- 
burg. He  hurriedly  went  into  a  small  hall,  smelling  of  pine 
and  not  even  plastered,  and  was  about  to  go  farther,  but  Anton 
preceded  him  on  his  tiptoes  and  knocked  at  the  door. 

"  Now  who's  there  ?  "  was  the  reply,  in  a  harsh,  forbidding 
voice. 

"  A  visitor,"  replied  Anton. 

'^  Ask  him  to  wait,"  and  the  noise  of  a  chair  ptished  back 
was  heard.  Pierre  went  with  swift  steps  to  the  door  and  met 
Prince  Andrei  face  to  face,  as  he  came  out,  frowning  and  look* 
ing  older  than  his  years. 

Pierre  threw  his  arms  around  him,  pushing  up  his  specta- 
cles, kissed  him  on  the  cheeks,  and  looked  at  him  closely. 

"  Well,  this  is  a  surprise ;  very  glad  to  see  you,"  said  Prince 
Andrei.  Pierre  said  nothing  ;  he  was  gazing  at  his  friend  in 
amazement,  not  taking  his  eyes  from  him.  He  was  struck  by 
the  change  that  had  taken  place  in  Prince  Andrei.  His  words 
were  affectionate ;  there  was  a  smile  on  his  lips  and  face,  but 
his  eyes  were  dim  and  lifeless,  in  spite  of  his  evident  desire  to 
make  them  seem  to  have  a  joyous  and  lively  light.  His  friend 
was  not  so  much  disturbed  that  he  had  grown  thinner  and 
paler,  but  this  expression  of  his  eyes  and  the  frown  on  his 
brow,  the  evidence  of  long-continued  concentration  on  some 
one  painful  topic,  amazed  and  estranged  Pierre,  who  was  not 
used  to  see  him  so. 

As  usual  on  meeting  after  a  long  separation,  it  took  some 
time  to  get  the  conversation  into  running  order ;  they  asked 
and  answered  various  questions  briefly  in  regard  to  things 
which  both  knew  they  should  hav^e  to  talk  about  afterwaitl  at 
length.  At  last  they  began  to  settle  down  a  little  more  on 
what  they  already  touched  upon,  what  had  taken  place  in  the 
past,  and  their  plans  for  the  future,  about  Pien^e's  journey, 
his  undertakings,  the  war,  and  other  topics. 

That  concentration  and  lif  elessness  which  Pierre  had  already 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  109 

remarked  in  Prince  Andrei's  eyes,  was  now  expressed  still 
more  noticeably  in  the  smile  with  which  he  listened  to  Pierre, 
especially  when  he  spoke  with  animation  of  the  past  or  the 
future. 

It  seemed  as  though  Piince  Andrei  were  trying,  but  without 
success,  to  feel  an  interest  in  what  he  said.  Pierre  was  begin- 
ning to  feel  that  it  was  in  bad  taste  in  Prince  Andrei's  presence 
to  speak  of  his  enthusiasms,  dreams,  hopes  of  happiness,  and 
of  doing  good.  He  was  ashamed  to  tell  about  his  new  notions 
concerning  Freemasonry,  which  had  been  especially  renewed 
and  excited  during  the  latter  part  of  his  journey.  He  re- 
strained himself  for  fear  of  seeming  naive :  at  the  same  time 
he  had  an  irresistible  desire  to  tell  his  friend  as  soon  as  possi- 
ble that  now  he  was  an  entirely  different  and  much  better  man 
than  he  had  been  when  he  had  known  him  in  Petersburg. 

'^  I  cannot  tell  you  what  I  have  lived  through  since  then. 
I  should  not  know  myself." 

^'Yes,  yes,  we  have  changed  much  since  that  time,"  said 
Prince  Andrei. 

"  Well,  and  you,"  asked  Pierre,  "  what  are  your  plans  ?  " 

"  Plans ! "  repeated  Prince  Andrei,  in  an  ironical  tone ;  "  my 
plans ! "  he  repeated  again,  as  though  he  were  astonished  at 
such  a  word,  "  you  can  see  for  yourself,  I  am  building ;  I  intend 
next  year  to  come  here  for  good." 

Pierre  said  nothing,  but  still  looked  attentively  at  Prince 
Andrei's  aged  face.  '<No,  I  wanted  to  ask,"  said  he,  but 
Prince  Andrei  interrupted  him. 

"But  what  is  the  use  of  talking  about  me?  —  Tell  me, 
oh  yes,  tell  me  about  your  journey,  —  all  about  what  you  ex- 
pect to  accomplish  on  your  estates." 

Pierre  began  to  tell  him  what  he  had  been  doing  for  his 
peasantry,  trying  to  conceal  as  far  as  possible,  his  own  part  in 
the  improvements  made. 

Prince  Andrei  several  times  finished  Pierre's  description 
for  hina,  as  though  all  that  Pierre  had  done  were  an  old  story, 
and  he  seemed  to  listen  not  only  without  interest,  but  even  as 
though  he  felt  ashamed  at  what  Pierre  told  him. 

Pierre  began  to  feel  awkward  and  uncomfoi-table  in  his 
friend's  society.     He  stopped  talking. 

"Now  see  here,  my  dear  fellow,  —  dusha  mot/a,"  said  Prince 
Andrei,  who  evidently  found  it  just  as  uncomfortable  and 
irksome  in  his  guest's  society,  "I  am  only  camping  out 
here,  as  it  were  —  came  over  simply  to  see  how  things  were 
going.    I  am.  going  back  to-night  to  my  sister's.    If  you  will 


no  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

go  back  with  me,  I'll  introduce  you  to  her.  Oh,  but  I  think 
you  know  her,"  he  added,  evidently  trying  to  think  of  some- 
thing to  amuse  a  guest,  with  whom  he  felt  that  he  had  nothing 
in  common,  "  we  will  start  right  after  dinner.  But  now 
would  you  like  to  look  around  my  premises  ?  *' 

They  went  out  and  returned  to  the  house  in  time  for  din- 
ner, talking  of  the  political  news,  and  of  their  common 
acquaintances,  like  men  who  cared  very  little  for  each  other. 
Prince  Andrei  made  a  show  of  animation  and  interest  only  in 
regard  to  the  new  buildings  and  premises  which  he  was  en- 
gaged in  constructing ;  but  even  here  in  the  midst  of  their  con- 
versation, and  while  they  were  on  the  scaffolding,  and  he  was 
describing  the  projected  arrangements  of  the  house,  he  sud- 
denly paused :  "  However,  there  is  nothing  very  interesting 
about  this ;  let  us  go  to  dinner  and  then  start."  At  the  din- 
ner-table the  talk  turned  on  Pierre's  marriage. 

''I  was  very  much  amazed  when  I  heard  about  it/'  said 
Prince  Andrei. 

Pierre  flushed,  as  he  usually  did  when  it  was  mentioned,  and 
said  hurriedly :  "  I  will  tell  you  all  about  it  some  time  —  tell 
you  how  it  happened.  But  you  know  that  it  is  all  over  and 
for  ever." 

"For  ever  ?"  queried  Prince  Andrei,  "there  is  no  such 
thing  as  for  ever ! " 

"But  you  know,  don't  you,  how  it  all  ended?  You  heard 
about  the  duel  ?  " 

"  And  so  you  had  to  go  through  that,  also !  " 

"There  is  one  thing  that  I  thank  God  for,  and  that  is  that  I 
did  not  kill  that  man,"  said  Pierre. 

"  Why  so  ? "  asked  Prince  Andrei,  "  to  kill  a  mad  dog  is 
a  very  good  thing." 

"No,  but  to  kill  a  man  is  not  good,  — not  right." 

"Why  is  it  not  right  ?  "  demanded  Prince  Andrei.  "It  is 
not  for  men  to  judge  what  is  right  and  wrong.  Men  have 
alwajrs  been  in  error,  and  always  will  be  in  error,  and  in 
nothing  more  than  in  what  they  consider  to  be  right  and 
wrong." 

"Wrong  is  whatever  is  harmful  to  our  fellow-men,"  sidd 
Pierre,  feeling  a  sense  of  satisfaction  that  here  for  the  first 
time  since  his  arrival,  Prince  Andrei  had  really  brightened  up 
and  begun  to  talk,  and  was  on  the  way  to  disclosing  what  had 
made  him  so  different  from  what  he  used  to  be. 

"  And  who  has  ever  told  you  what  is  harmful  for  our  fel- 
low-men ?  "  asked  the  other. 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  Ill 

"  Harmful !  harmful !  "  exclaimed  Pierre,  "  we  all  know 
what  that  means  for  ourselves." 

"  Yes,  we  know  what  is  evil  for  ourselves,  but  that  which  is 
evil  for  myself,  may  not  be  evil  for  another  man,"  said  Prince 
Andrei,  growing  more  and  more  constantly  animated.  He 
added  in  French :  "  I  know  of  only  two  real  evils  in  life  — 
remorse  and  illness.  There  is  nothing  good  except  the 
absence  of  these  evils.*  To  live  for  myself,  avoiding  only 
the«e  two  evils,  is  at  present  all  my  philosophy." 

"  But  how  about  love  for  your  neighbor,  and  self-sacrifice  ?  " 
protested  Pierre ;  "  no,  I  cannot  agree  with  you.  It  is  a  very 
little  thing  to  live  merely  so  as  not  to  do  evil,  merely  to  be 
free  from  remorse.  I  have  lived  in  that  way ;  I  have  lived  for 
myself,  and  I  have  wasted  my  life.  And  now  only  that  I  am 
living — I  mean  trying  to  live  —  for  others  (Pierre  corrected 
himself  out  of  modesty)  only  now  do  I  realize  the  full  happi- 
ness of  life.  Ko,  I  cannot  agree  with  you ;  and  you  yourself 
do  not  mean  what  you  say." 

Prince  Andrei  looked  silently  at  Pierre,  and  smiled  sa- 
tirically. 

"  Well,  you  are  going  to  see  my  sister,  the  Princess  Mariya. 
Yon  and  she  will  agree,"  said  he.  "  May  be  you  are  right  as 
far  as  you  are  concerned,"  he  went  on  to  say,  after  a  short 
silence,  "but  every  one  must  work  out  his  own  life.  You 
have  lived  for  yourself,  and  declare  that  you  have  almost 
wasted  your  life  by  this  course,  and  you  have  found  happiness 
only  when  you  began  to  live  for  others.  But  my  experience 
has  been  exactly  the  opposite.  I  have  lived  for  glory  —  and 
what  is  glory  ?  Is  it  not  love  for  others,  the  desire  to  do 
something  for  them,  the  yearning  for  their  applause  ?  And 
in  that  way  I  have  lived  for  others,  and  have  not  almost,  but 
wholly  wasted  my  life.  But  only  since  I  have  begun  to  live 
for  myself  alone,  have  I  begun  to  feel  more  satisfied." 

"  But  how  can  you  live  for  yourself  alone  ? "  asked 
Pierre,  growing  heated,  "  there  is  your  son,  your  sister,  your 
father ! " 

"  Ah,  yes,  but  they  are  the  same  as  myself,  they  are  not 
*  other  people'"  explained  Prince  Anhrei,  "but  others,  neigh- 
bors, le  prochain,  as  you  and  the  Princess  Mariya  express 
it,  —  they  are  the  chief  fountain-head  of  error  and  evil.  Le 
pToehaifif  your  neighbor,  is,  for  instance,  those  Kief  muzhiks 
of  yours,  whom  you  are  trying  to  load  with  benefits." 

*  Je  Tie  CfmnaU  dan9  la  vie  que  detix  maux  bien  r4eU :  c*e»t  le  rimords  et  la 
moladie-    Jl  n*e9t  de  bien  que  Vabsence  de  ce^  mauXf 


112  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

And  he  looked  at  Pierre  with  a  provokingly  satirical  expres- 
sion.    It  evidently  provoked  Pierre. 

*'  You  are  jesting,"  said  Pierre,  who  was  constantly  growing 
more  and  more  excited,  "  how  can  there  be  error  and  evil  in 
what  I  have  desired  —  the  accomplishment  has  been  very 
trifling  and  wretched;  but  I  mean  in  what  I  have  desired 
to  do  in  the  way  of  benefiting  them,  and  have  accomplished 
in  some  small  measure  ?  What  possible  evil  can  there  be  in 
poor  men,  like  our  muzhiks,  men  just  like  ourselves,  who 
grow  up  and  perish  without  any  comprehension  of  God  and 
right,  beyond  mere  forms  and  meaningless  prayers,  being 
taught  the  consoling  belief  in  a  future  life,  in  re#ard8  and 
compensations  and  joys  to  come  ?  Pray  what  evil  or  error  i« 
there  in  my  giving  medicine  and  a  hospital,  and  a  refuge 
for  old  age  to  men  who  are  dying  of  maladies  without  succor, 
when  it  is  so  easy  to  help  them  materially  ?  And  is  it  not  a 
palpable  and  unquestionable  benefit  that  when  the  muzhiks, 
the  nursing  women,  have  no  rest  either  day  or  night,  and  I 
give  them  leisure  and  recreation  ?  "  said  Pierre,  stammering 
in  his  efforts  to  talk  fast  and  keep  up  with  his  thoughts. 
"  And  I  have  done  this,  stupidly  enough,  feebly  enough,  but  at 
all  events  I  have  done  something  toward  it,  and  j-ou  will  fail 
to  persuade  me  either  that  what  I  have  done  is  not  good,  or 
that  you  yourself  have  any  such  notion.  And  above  all,*'  pro- 
ceeded Pierre,  "I  know  and  am  firmly  persuaded  that  the 
pleasure  of  doing  good  in  this  way  is  the  only  true  happiness 
that  life  affords." 

"  Yes,  if  you  propound  the  question  in  that  way,  yon  make 
an  entirely  different  one  out  of  it,"  said  Prince  Andrei.  "  I 
am  building  a  house,  I  am  laying  out  a  garden,  and  you  are 
erecting  hospitals ;  and  some  one  else  might  come  along  and 
argue  that  both  were  a  waste  of  time.  But  the  decision  as  to 
what  is  right  and  what  is  good,  let  us  leave  to  Him  who  knows 
all  things,  and  not  try  to  decide  it  for  ourselves.  But  I  see 
that  you  want  to  argue  the  question."  He  added,  "  Give  it  to 
us  then." 

They  had  left  the  table  and  were  sitting  on  a  flight  of  steps 
that  took  the  place  of  a  balcony. 

"Well,  let  us  have  the  discussion  then,"  said  Prince  Andrei. 
"  You  speak  of  schools,"  he  went  on  to  say,  bending  one  finger, 
"and  of  education  and  so  on ;  that  is,  you  wish  to  take  such  a 
man  as  that "  —  pointing  towards  a  muzhik,  who,  as  he  passed 
by  them,  pulled  off  his  hat  —  "  and  lift  him  from  his  animal 
existence  and  give  him  moral  necessities}  but  it  seems  to  me 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  113 

that  his  only  possible  happiness  is  his  animal  enjoyment,  and 
that  you  want  to  deprive  him  of.  I  envy  him ;  you  want  to 
make  him  like  me.  You  say  another  thing :  you  propose  to  free 
him  from  work,  but  in  my  opinion  physical  labor  is  for  him 
as  much  a  necessity,  as  much  a  condition  of  his  existence,  as 
intellectual  labor  is  for  you  or  me.  You  cannot  help  thinking. 
I  go  to  bed  at  three  o'clock ;  thoughts  crowd  in  upon  me  and  I 
keep  turning  and  twisting,  and  it  is  morning  before  sleep 
comes,  and  the  reason  is  because  I  am  thinking  and  cannot 
help  thinking,  just  as  he  cannot  help  plowing  and  mowing; 
if  he  did  not  he  wou^d  go  to  the  tavern  and  make  himself  ill. 
Just  as  I  could  not  endure  his  terrible  physical  labor,  and 
should  die  within  a  week,  so  he  could  not  endure  my  physical 
idleness  ;  he  would  grow  stout  and  die.  •  In  the  third  place,  — 
but  what  was  your  third  point?" — Prince  Andrei  began  to 
double  down  his  third  finger. 

"  Oh,  yes,  hospitals,  medicines.  Well,  he  has  a  stroke  and 
dies,  but  you  would  bleed  him  and  cure  him,  and  he  would 
drag  out  a  crippled  existence  for  ten  years  more,  a  burden  to 
every  one.  It  is  far  easier  and  simpler  for  him  to  die.  Others 
are  bom,  and  there  are  so  many  of  them  to  take  his  place  !  If 
it  were  merely  that  you  were  sorry  for  the  loss  of  a  good 
workman,  that  would  be  a  different  thing,  — for  that'sthe  way 
I  look  at  it,  but  you  want  to  cure  him  out  of  mere  love  for 
him.  And  that  is  not  necessary  as  far  as  he  is  concerned  ;  and 
then,  besides,  wlvit  a  delusion  it  is  that  medicine  ever  any- 
where cured  any  one !  You  might  rather  call  it  murder !  "  said 
he,  frowning  with  disgust  and  turning  from  Pierre. 

Prince  Andrei  expressed  his  thoughts  with  such  clearness 
and  precision  that  it  was  evident  he  had  thought  on  these 
questions  and  he  spoke  fluently  and  rapidly,  like  a  man  who 
has  not  had  for  a  long  time  a  chance  to  express  his  thoughts. 
His  eyes  kept  growing  more  and  more  animated,  in  proportion 
as  his  ideas  became  pessimistic. 

"  Akh^  this  is  horrible,  horrible  ! "  exclaimed  Pierre.  "  What 
I  cannot  understand  is  how  you  can  live,  holding  such  opin- 
ions. Such  moments  of  despair  have  come  to  me,  but  that 
was  long,  long  ago  at  Moscow  and  abroad,  but  at  such  times  I 
go  down  into  the  depths  so  that  I  cease  to  live ;  everything  is 
disgusting  to  me  —  myself  above  all !  At  such  times  I  do 
not  eat,  or  wash  myself — Well,  is  that  the  way  with  you  ?  " 

"Why  shouldn't  I  wash  myself?  It  isn't  cleanly!"  re- 
torted Prince  Andrei.  "On  the  contrary,  T  have  to  struggle 
to  make  my  life  as  agreeable  as  possible.     I  am  alive  and  I  am 

VOL.  2. --8. 


114  WAR  AND  PEACE, 

not  to  blame  for  that,  and  so  it  behooves  me  to  make  the  best 
of  it,  not  interfering  with  anybody  else  until  death  carries  me 
off!"  ' 

'^But  what  on  earth  induces  you  to  live  cherishing  such 
notions  ?  Do  you  really  intend  to  sit  down  doing  nothing, 
without  undertaking  anything  ?  " 

**  Ah,  but  life  refuses  to  let  me  be  in  peace !  I  should  be 
glad  enough  to  be  a  do-nothing,  but  here  on  the  one  hand  the 
nobility  of  the  district  have  done  me  the  honor  of  electing  me 
their  ^marshal,  and  it  was  as  much  as  I  could  do  to  get  out  of 
it.  They  could  not  understand  that  I  had  not  a  single  quali- 
fication for  the  office,  not  a  bit  of  that  peculiarly  good-natured 
and  commonplace  indefatigability  which  is  needed  for  it. 
And  that  is  the  explanation  of  tliis  house  which  I  felt  called 
upon  to  build,  so  as  to  have  my  own  little  nook  where  I  could 
be  free  and  easy.     And  then  again,  there  is  the  militia "  — 

"  Why  don't  you  serve  in  the  army  ?  " 

"  After  Austerlitz ! "  exclaimed  Prince  Andrei,  gloomily. 
"  No,  I  thank  you  humbly,  but  I  have  taken  a  solemn  vow 
that  I  would  never  again  serve  in  the  Russian  army.  I  would 
not,  even  if  Bonaparte  were  here  at  Smolensk,  threatening 
Luisiya  Gorui ;  no,  not  even  then  would  I  serve  in  the  Russian 
army.  There,  now  I  have  told  you,"  proceeded  Prince  Andrei, 
growing  calmer.  "But  there  is  the  militia;  my  father  is 
commander-in-chief  of  the  third  district,  and  the  only  way  that 
I  could  avoid  joining  the  army  again  was  to  be  with  him." 

"  So  you  are  in  the  service  after  all  ?  " 

"Yes,  I  am." 

He  was  silent  for  a  little. 

"  But  why  are  you  ?  " 

"  This  is  why.  My  father  is  one  of  the  most  remarkiible 
men  of  his  age,  but  he  has  grown  old,  and  while  he  is  not 
exactly  cruel,  he  has  too  restless  a  nature.  He  is  so  used  to 
unlimited  power  that  it  makes  him  terrible,  and  now  he  has 
the  power  granted  him  by  the  Emperor  as  commander-in  chief 
of  the  militia.  If  I  had  been  two  hours  late,  a  fortnight  ago, 
he  would  have  hanged  a  registry  clerk  at  Yukhmovo,"  said 
Prince  Andrei,  with  a  smile,  "  and  so  I  serve  because  no  one 
besides  me  has  any  influence  over  him,  and  I  often  save  him 
from  acts  which  he  would  be  sorry  for  afterwards." 

"  Ah,  there  now,  you  see ! " 

"  Yes,  but  it  is  not  as  you  understand  it,"  retorted  Prince 
Andrei  in  French.     "  It  was  not  that  I  wasted  any  sympathy 

•  PredvodUyeL 


WAn  AND  PEACE.  115 

on  the  rascal  of  a  clerk  who  had  been  stealing  boots  from  the 
militia.  As  far  as  he  was  concerned  I  should  have  been  glad 
enough  if  he  had  been  hanged ;  but  I  should  have  felt  sorry 
for  my  father,  which  is  the  same  thing  as  for  myself." 

Prince  Andrei  was  still  growing  more  and  more  excited.  His 
eyes  sparkled  with  a  feverish  light,  as  he  tried  to  prove  to  Pierre 
that  his  action  had  nothing  whatever  of  philanthropy  in  it. 

"  Well,  now  look  here,  you  want  to  free  your  serfs,"  he  went 
on  to  say,  "  that  is  a  very  good  thing,  but  not  for  you  —  for 
you  never  flogged  any  one  or  sent  any  one  to  Siberia — and 
still  less  advantageous  for  your  peasants.  If  they  are  beaten 
and  flogged  and  sent  to  Siberia  I  imagine  it  does  them  no 
special  harm.  The  peasant  leads  in  Siberia  that  same  cattle- 
like existence  of  his,  and  his  scars  heal  over  and  he  is  just  as 
happy  as  he  was  before.  But  this  would  be  a  good  thing  for 
those  who  are  morally  perishing,  who  are  preparing  for  them- 
selves an  old  age  of  remorse,  who  try  to  stifle  this  remorse 
and  become  cruel  and  severe,  for  the  reason  that  they  have  the 
power  of  punishing  either  justly  or  unjustly.  That's  why  I 
pity  any  one,  and  in  such  a  case  should  desire  the  emancipation 
of  the  serfs.  Perhaps  you  have  never  seen  but  I  have,  —  how 
good  men,  educated  in  these  traditions  of  unlimited  power,  as 
they  grow  old  and  irritable,  grow  cruel  and  harsh,  and  are 
aware  of  it  and  cannot  help  themselves,  and  so  become  ever 
more  and  more  unhappy." 

Prince  Andrei  said  this  with  so  much  feeling,  that  Pierre 
could  not  avoid  conjecturing  that  these  ideas  of  Prince  Andrei's 
were  suggested  by  his  own  father.     He  said  nothing  in  reply. 

"  And  this  is  what  I  lament  over :  human  dignity,  peace  of 
mind,  and  purity,  and  not  men's  backs  and  heads ;  which,  how- 
ever much  they  be  flogged  and  shaved,  will  still  remain  noth- 
ing but  backs  and  heads  still." 

"  No,  no,  a  thousand  times  no,  I  never  should  agree  with 
you ! ''  cried  Pierre. 


CHAPTER  Xn. 

Ik  the  afternoon,  Prince  Andrei  and  Pierre  got  into  the 
calash  and  started  for  Luisiya  Gorui.  Prince  Andrei  occasion- 
ally glanced  at  Pierre  and  broke  the  silence  with  remarks, 
showing  that  he  was  now  in  the  very  happiest  frame  of  mind. 

Pointing  to  the  fields,  he  told  him  about  his  agricultural  im- 
provements. 


116  wah  and  pbacb. 

Pierre  preserved  a  moody  silence,  replied  in  monosyllables, 
and  seemed  to  be  immersed  in  his  thoughts. 

Pierre  felt  that  Prince  Andrei  was  unhappy,  that  he  was  de- 
luding himself,  that  he  was  ignorant  of  the  true  light,  and 
that  it  was  his  duty  to  come  to  his  aid,  to  enlighten  hiui,  and 
lift  him  up.  But  as  soon  as  Pierre  tried  to  think  what  and 
how  he  should  speak,  he  was  seized  with  the  consciousness 
that  Prince  Andrei  by  a  single  word,  by  a  single  argument, 
might  destroy  everything  in  his  teaching,  and  he  was  afraid 
to  begin  ;  he  was  afraid  of  exposing  to  the  possibility  of  ridi- 
cule the  beloved  Ark  of  his  convictions. 

"  No,  but  why  should  you  think  so  ? "  suddenly  began 
Pierre,  lowering  his  head  and  taking  the  aspect  of  a  bull  about 
to  charge.  *'  What  makes  you  think  so?  You  have  no  right 
to  think  so  !  " 

"  To  think  how  ?  "  asked  Prince  Andrei  in  amazement. 

'^  About  life,  about  man's  destination.  It  cannot  be.  1  used 
to  think  exactly  the  same  way,  and  do  you  know  what  saved 
me  ?  —  Freemasonry !  No,  don't  smile !  Freemasonry  is  not  a 
religious,  a  ceremonial  sect,  as  I  once  supposed,  but  it  is  some> 
thing  much  better,  it  is  the  one  expression  of  the  best,  of  the 
eternal  in  humanity." 

And  Pierre  began  to  expound  Freemasonry  to  Prince  Andrei 
as  he  understood  it. 

He  declared  that  Freemasonry  was  the  doctrine  of  Christian- 
ity freed  from  political  and  religious  dogmatic  bonds :  the  doc- 
trine of  equality,  fraternity,  and  love. 

"  Our  sacred  brotherhood  only  has  a  practical  conception  of 
life ;  everything  else  is  visionary,"  said  Pierre.  "  You  mast 
comprehend,  my  dear  fellow,  that  outside  of  this  fraternity, 
everything  is  full  of  falsehood  and  deception,  and  I  agree  with 
you  that  for  an  intelligent  and  good  man  nothing  is  left  except 
to  live  out  his  life  as  you  do,  merely  striving  not  to  inter- 
fere with  any  one.  But  once  adopt  our  fundamental  princi- 
ples, join  our  confraternity,  come  with  us  heart  and  soul,  allow 
youi*self  to  be  guided,  and  you  will  immediately  perceive,  just 
as  I  did,  that  you  are  a  part  of  a  tremendous,  invisible  chain, 
the  beginning  of  which  is  hidden  in  heaven,"  said  Pierre, 

Prince  Andrei,  silently  looking  straight  ahead,  listened  to 
Pierre's  discourse.  Several  times  when  owing  to  the  rumble 
of  the  carriage,  he  failed  to  catch  a  word,  he  asked  Pierre  to 
repeat  it.  Pierre  could  see  by  the  unusual  gleam  in  Prince 
Andrei's  eyes  and  by  his  silence,  that  his  words  were  not  with- 
out effect,  that  Prince  Andrei  would  not  throw  ridicule  on  what 
he  said. 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  117 

They  reached  a  river  where  there  was  a  freshet,  and  which 
had  to  be  crossed  by  ferry.  While  they  were  arranging  for 
the  disposition  of  the  calash  and  horses,  the  two  young  men 
went  down  upon  the  ferry-boat. 

Prince  Andrei,  leaning  his  elbows  on  the  railing,  looked  in  si- 
lence down  along  the  brimming  river,  which  gleamed  under 
the  rays  of  the  setting  sun. 

"  WeD,  what  do  you  think  about  it  ?  "  asked  Pierre.  "Why 
are  you  so  silent  ?  " 

"  What  do  I  think  ?  I  have  been  listening  to  what  you  said, 
that's  all,"  said  Prince  Andrei.  "You  say  Moin  our  confra- 
ternity and  we  wijil  teach  you  the  purpose  of  life  and  the  ob- 
ject of  man's  existence,  and  the  laws  that  goyem  the  world.' 
But  who  are  '  we '  ?  Simply  men !  How  do  you  know  all 
that  ?  Why  is  it  that  I  am  the  only  one  that  fails  to  see  what 
you  are  privileged  to  see  ?  You  see  a  kingdom  of  goodness 
and  truth  on  earth,  but  that  is  what  I  do  not  see." 

Pierre  interrupted  him, — 

"Do  you  believe  in  the  future  life,"  he  asked. 

"  In  the  future  life  ?  "  repeated  Prince  Andrei,  but  Pierre  , 
gave  him  no  time  to  reply,  and  took  for  granted  that  this  very 
repetition  of  his  words  was  a  denial,  the  more  so  because  he 
ha!d  known  of  old.  Prince  Andrei's  atheistical  convictions. 

"  You  say  you  cannot  see  the  kingdom  of  goodness  and  truth 
on  earth.  And  I  do  not  see  it,  and  it  is  impossible  to  see  it,  if 
we  look  upon  our  life  here  as  the  end  of  all  things.  On  the 
earth,  especially  on  this  earth  here" — Pierre  pointed  toward 
a  field  —  "  there  is  no  truth  ;  it  is  all  lies  and  evil ;  but  in  the 
universe,  in  the  whole  universe,  is  the  kingdom  of  truth,  and 
now  we  are  the  children  of  the  earth ;  in  eternity  we  are  the 
children  of  the  whole  universe.  Do  I  not  feel  in  my  own  soul 
that  I  constitute  a  part  of  this  mighty  harmonious  whole  ?  Do 
I  not  have  the  consciousness  that  in  this  enormous,  innumera- 
ble collection  of  beings  in  which  Godhead  is  manifest — 
Supreme  Force,  if  you  prefer  the  term  —  that  I  constitute  one 
link,  one  step  between  the  lower  orders  of  creation  and  the 
higher  ones  ?  If  I  see,  clearly  see,  this  ladder  which  rises  from 
the  plant  to  man,  then  why  should  I  suppose  that  it  stops  at 
me,  and  does  not  lead  higher  and  ever  higher  ?  I  know  that 
just  as  nothing  is  ever  annihilated  in  the  universe,  so  I  can 
never  perish  but  shall  always  exist,  and  always  have  existed. 
I  know  that  besides  myself  spirits  must  exist  above  me,  and 
that  truth  is  in  this  universe." 

"  Yes,  that  is  Herder's  doctrine,"  said  Prince  Andrei.  "  But 


118  War  and  pSace. 

that  is  not  enough  to  convince  me,  my  dear ;  but  life  and  death 
are  what  convince.  You  are  convinced  when  you  see  a  being 
who  is  dear  to  you,  who  is  bound  to  you  by  sacred  ties,  toward 
whom  you  have  done  wrong,  and  have  hoped  to  atone  for  the 
wrong ''  —  Prince  Andrei's  voice  trembled  and  he  turned  his 
iiead  away  —  "  and  suddenly  this  being  suffers,  is  tormented, 
and  ceases  to  be.  Why  is  it  ?  It  cannot  be  that  there  is  no 
answer,  and  I  believe  that  there  is  one.  That  is  what  con- 
vinces a  man,  that  is  what  has  convinced  me/'  said  Prince 
Andrei. 

"  Yes,  yes,"  exclaimed  Pierre,  "  and  isn't  that  exactly  what 
I  said  ?  " 

"  No !  I  mereiy  maintain  that  arguments  do  not  convince 
one  of  the  necessity  of  a  future  life,  but  this :  when  you  go 
througli  life  hand  in  hand  with  a  companion,  and  suddenly 
that  companion  vanishes,  there,  into  the  nowhere,  and  you  are 
left  standing  by  this  gulf,  and  straining  your  eyes  to  look  into 
it  I   And  I  have  looked  in  !  " 

"  Well,  then !  You  know  that  there  is  a  there,  and  that  there 
is  a  sovie  one,  *  There,  is  the  future  life.  The,  some  one,  is 
God." 

Prince  Andrei  made  no  reply.  The  horses  had  been  long 
harnessed  again  into  the  calash  on  the  other  bank,  and  the  fer- 
riage fees  paid,  and  already  the  sun  was  half  hidden  and  the 
evening  frost  was  beginning  to  skim  over  the  pools  by  the 
ferry  with  crystal  stars,  and  still  Pierre  and  Andrei,  to  the 
amazement  of  the  servants,  the  drivers,  and  the  ferry  hands, 
stood  on  the  ferry-boat  talking. 

"  If  there  is  a  God  and  a  future  life,  then  truth  must  exist, 
then  virtue  must  exist ;  and  man's  highest  happiness  consists 
in  striving  to  attain  them.  We  must  live,  we  must  love,  we 
must  believe,"  Pierre  was  saying.  "  Believe  not  that  we  ex- 
ist for  a  to-day  on  this  lump  of  earth,  but  that  we  have  lived 
and  shall  live  for  ever  yonder  in  the  Whole  "  —  he  pointed  to 
the  sky. 

Prince  Andrei  was  standing  with  his  elbows  resting  on  the 
railing  of  the  ferry-boat  and  listening  to  Pierre,  and  without 
turning  away  his  eyes  he  gazed  at  the  red  disk  of  the  sun  re- 
flected in  the  brimming  river.  Pierre  came  to  a  pause.  It 
was  perfectly  still.  The  boat  had  long  heexx  moored,  and  only 
the  ripples  of  the  current  glided  by  the  bottom  of  the  boat 
with  a  faint  murmur.  It  seemed  to  l*rince  Andrei  that  this 
lapping  of  the  waves  corroborated  Pierre's  words  and  mur- 
mured :  "  It  is  true  :  have  faith  in  it !  " 


WAR  AND  PBACS,  119 

Prince  Andrei  smiled,  and  with  a  radiant,  childlike,  tender 
expression  looked  into  Pierre's  flushed  and  enthusiastic  face, 
which,  nevertheless,  showed  that  shyness  peculiar  to  him  in 
the  presence  of  a  friend  of  superior  attainments. 

"  Ah,  yes !  if  it  were  only  so,"  said  he.  "  But  let  us  be 
starting,"  added  Prince  Andrei,  and  as  he  stepped  off  the  boat, 
he  glanced  at  the  sky,  to  which  Pierre  called  nis  attention,  and 
for  the  first  time  since  Austerlitz  he  saw  those  lofty,  eternal 
heavens,  which  he  had  looked  into  as  he  lay  on  the  battle-field, 
and  something  long  dormant,  something  that  was  the  better 
part  of  himself,  suddenly  awoke  with  new  and  joyful  life  in 
ids  soul. 

This  feeling  vanished  as  soon  as  Prince  Andrei  fell  back  again 
into  the  ordinary  conditions  of  existence,  but  he  knew  that 
this  feeling,  though  he  was  unable  to  develop  it,  still  lived  in 
him.  His  meeting  with  Pierre  was  for  Prince  Andrei  an  epoch 
with  which  to  begin  his  new  life,  not  indeed  to  outward  sight, 
which  remained  unchanged,  but  in  the  inner  world  of  his  con- 
sciousness. 


CHAPTER  XIIl. 

It  was  already  quite  dark  when  Prince  Andrei  and  Pierre 
drove  up  to  the  principal  entrance  of  the  Luisogorsky  mansion. 
Just  as  they  reached  there,  Prince  Andrei,  with  a  smile,  called 
Pierre's  attention  to  the  hubbub  at  the  rear  doorsteps.  An 
old  woman,  bending  under  the  weight  of  a  birch  bark  sack, 
and  a  short  man,  in  black  attire  and  with  long  hair,  seeing  the 
approach  of  the  calash,  started  to  run  in  through  the  back 
gates.  Two  women  were  hurrying  after  them,  and  all  four, 
gazing  in  affright  at  the  carriage,  hurried  up  the  back  stairs. 

"  Those  are  some  of  Masha's  '  Men  of  God,' "  said  Prince 
Andrei.  "  They  took  us  for  my  father.  And  this  is  the  only 
thing  in  which  she  dares  think  of  going  against  his  wishes : 
his  orders  are  to  drive  these  pilgrims  out,  but  she  likes  to  re- 
ceive them." 

"  But  who  are  these  pilgrims,  — '  Men  of  God,'  as  you  call 
them  ?  " 

Prince  Andrei  had  no  time  to  reply  to  him.  Servants  came 
out  to  meet  them,  and  he  began  to  ask  where  the  old  prince 
was  and  how  soon  he  was  expected. 

The  old  prinee  was  still  at  Smolensk,  but  was  expected  at 
any  time. 


120  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

Prince  Andrei  took  Pierre  to  his  own  chambers  which  were 
always  kept  in  perfect  order  for  his  reception  in  his  father's 
house,  and  he  himself  went  to  the  nursery. 

"  Let  us  go  and  find  my  sister,"  said  Prince  Andrei,  rejoin- 
ing Pierre.  "  I  have  not  seen  her  yet :  she  is  hidden  away 
somewhere,  talking  with  her  '  Men  of  God.'  It  will  make  her 
very  much  confused,  but  you  shall  see  her  *Men  of  Ckxi.'  C^ed 
eurieuXy  ma  parole,'' 

"  But  who  are  these  men  of  (lod  ?  "  asked  Pierre  again. 

"  You  shall  see  for  yourself." 

It  was  a  fact  that  the  Princess  Mariya  was  confused,  and  her 
face  blushed  in  patches  when  they  joined  her.  In  her  cosy 
chamber,  with  the  tapers  burning  in  front  of  the  holy  pictures, 
on  the  divan  behind  the  samovar,  by  her  side  sat  a  young  lad 
with  a  long  nose  and  long  hair,  and  dressed  in  a  monastic  cas- 
sock. 

In  an  arm-chair  near  by  sat  a  wrinkled,  lean  old  woman  wHb 
a  sweet  expression  on  her  childlike  face.  ; 

"  AndrS,  pourquoi  ne  pas  m' avoir  prevenu  —  why  didn't  you 
tell  me  ?  "  said  she  with  gentle  reproach,  standing  up  in  front 
of  her   pilgrims  like   a  hen  trying  to  protect   her  chicks. 

"  Charmed  to  see  you.  I  am  delighted  to  see  you,"  said  she 
to  Pierre,  still  in  French,  as  he  stooped  to  kiss  her  hand.  She 
had  known  him  as  a  boy,  and  now  his  friendship  for  Andrei, 
his  unhappiness  with  his  wife,  and  above  all,  his  good,  simple, 
face  quite  won  her  heart.  She  looked  at  him  from  her  lovely, 
lucid  eyes,  and  her  expression  seemed  to  say,  "  I  like  you  very 
much,  but  please  do  not  make  fun  of  my  friends." 

After  they  had  exchanged  the  first  greetings  they  sat  down. 

"  Ah,  and  here  is  the  young  Ivdnushka,"  said  Prince  Andrei, 
with  a  smile,  indicating  the  pilgrim  lad. 

"  Andr6 ! "  exclaimed  the  Princess  Mariya,  in  a  beseeching 
tone. 

"  You  must  know  that  he  is  a  woman,"  said  Prince  Andrei 
to  Pierre. 

"  Andre,  au  nom  de  Dieti  /  "  exclaimed  the  Princess  Mariya. 

It  was  evident  that  Prince  Andrei's  jesting  behavior  toward 
the  pilgrims  and  the  Princess  Mariya's  unprofitable  defence 
of  them  were  matters  of  long  standing  between  them. 

"  But,  my  dear  girl,"  said  Prince  Andrei,  "  vou  ought,  on  the 
contrary,  to  be  very  grateful  to  me  for  explaining  to  Pierre 
your  intimacy  with  this  young  man."  ♦ 

*  *'  MaiSt  ma  bonne  amiCf  voua  devrieZf  au  contrairt,  in*itre  reconnahanU 
de  ce  quej*explique  a  Pierre  voire  intimit€avec  c€jeane  homme" 


WAk  AND  P^ACS.  121 

"  Vraiment  ?  Are  you  in  earnest  ? "  asked  Pierre,  with 
some  cariosity  and  with  perfect  seriousness  —  and  for  this  the 
princess  was  especially  grateful  to  him  —  looking  over  his 
spectacles  at  Ivanushka's  face,  who,  perceiiring  that  the  talk 
was  concerning  him,  looked  at  all  of  them  with  cunning  eyes. 
It  was  entirely  useless  for  the  Princess  Mariya  to  be  morti- 
fied on  account  of  her  friends.  They  were  not  in  the  least 
abashed.  The  old  woman,  dropping  her  eyes,  though  looking 
at  the  new  comers  sidewise  out  of  the  corners  of  them,  turned 
her  cup  bottom  side  up  on  the  saucer,  placed  next  it  the  half- 
gDawed  lump  of  sugar,  and  sat  silent  and  motionless  in  her  chair, 
waiting  to  be  asked  to  have  another  cup.  Ivanushka,  drinking 
out  of  his  saucer,  gazed  at  the  young  men  from  under  his  sly, 
womanlike  eyes. 

"  Where  have  you  been  ?    To  Kief  ?  "  asked  Prince  Andrei 
of  the  old  woman. 

"Yes,"  replied  the  old  woman,  laconically.  "On  Christmas 
day  I  was  deemed  worthy  to  partake  of  the  holy  sacrament 
with  the  saints.  But  just  now  I  come  from  Kolyazin,  father ; 
a  great  blessing  has  been  vouchsafed  there  "  — 
"Tell  me,  has  Ivanushka  been  with  you  ?  " 
"Xo,  I  have  been  all  by  myself  alone,  benefactor,"  said 
Ivanushka,  striving  to  make  his  voice  bass.  "  It  was  only  at 
Yukhnovo  that  Pelageyushka  and  I  met." 

Pelageyushka  interrupted  her  companion ;  she  was  evidently 
anxious  to  tell  what  she  had  seen. 
"  In  Kolyazin,  father,  a  great  blessing  has  been  shown." 
"  What  was  that  ?     New  relics  ?  "  asked  Prince  Andrei. 
"Come,   that'll  do,   Andrei,"    said    the    Princess  Mariya. 
"Don't  you  tell  him,  Pelageyushka ! " 
"  Ni !  but  why  not,  mother,  why  shouldn't  I  tell  him  ?     I 
•  love  him.     He  is  good ;  he  is  one  of  the  God's  elect,  he  gave 
me  ten  rubles  once  —  he  is  my  benefactor — I  remember  it 
very  well.     When  I  was  in  Kief,  Kiriyusha  the  Foolish  said  to 
me,  —  he's  truly  a  man  of  God,  he  goes  barefoot  winter  and 
sommer,  —  *  What  makes  you  wander  round  out  of  your  own 
place,'  says  he  to  me,  says  he,  *  go  to  Kolyazin,  there  is  a  won- 
der-working ikon ;  the  Holy  Mother  of  God  has  manifested 
herself  there.'     So  I  said  good-by  to  the  saints,  and  I  went 
there." 

No  one  interrupted,  the  old  woman  alone  in  her  monotonous 
voice  spoke,  occasionally  stopping  to  get  her  breath. 

"I  went  there,  my   father,  and  the  people  there  said  to 
me,  <  A  great  blessing  has  been  vouchsafed  to  us.     Holy  oil 


122  ^AR  AND  PEACE. 

has  trickled  down  from  the  cheeks  of  the  Holy  Mother  of 
God." 

"  Well,  that  will  do,  that  will  do ;  you  can  tell  the  rest  by 
and  by,"  said  the  Princess  Mariya,  blushing. 

"  Let  me  ask  a  question  of  her,"  broke  in  Pierre.  "  Did  you 
see  it  with  your  own  eyes  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Indeed,  I  did,  father ;  I  myself  wiis  deemed  worthy.  Such 
brightness  in  her  face,  like  light  from  heaven,  and  from  the 
Virgin's   cheeks  it  trickled  and  trickled." 

"  But  see  here,  that  was  a  fraud,"  was  Pierre's  naive  com- 
ment, after  listening  with  all  attention  to  her  story. 

"  Akh  !  Father,  what  do  you  say  ?  "  exclaimed  Pelage- 
yushka,  in  a  tone  of  horror,  turning  to  the  Princess  Mariya 
for  protection. 

"  That's  the  way  they  deceive  the  people,"  he  reiterated. 

"Oh,  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ!"  exclaimed  the  old  woman, 
crossing  herself.  "  Okh  !  don't  say  such  a  thing,  father.  And 
that's  the  way  a  certain  anaral "  —  she  meant  to  say  general 
—  "was  an  unbeliever:  he  u.sed  to  say,  Hhe  priests  deceive.' 
Yes,  and  he  was  took  blind  in  consequence.  And  he  dreamed 
that  the  mdtushka  Petchorskaya  *  came  to  him  and  says :  *  Be- 
lieve in  me  and  I  will  cure  you.'  And  so  he  began  to  beg 
them :  *  Take  me,  oh  take  me  to  her.'  And  I  tell  you  this  as 
gospel  truth  —  I  see  it  with  my  own  eyes.  They  took  him 
stone  blind  as  he  was,  straight  to  her ;  he  fell  on  his  knees, 
and  says  to  her :  *  Heal  me,  I  will  give  thee,'  says  he,  *  what 
the  tsar  gave  me.'  And,  father,  I  myself  seen  the  star  on  her, 
just  as  he  gave  it  to  her.  And  so  he  got  back  his  sight  It*8 
a  sin  to  speak  so !  God  will  punish  you,"  said  she  admonish- 
ingly  to  Pierre. 

"  How  did  the  star  look  on  the  holy  picture  ? "  asked 
Pierre.  * 

"  And  did  they  promote  the  Virgin  to  be  a  general  ?  "  asked 
Prince  Andrei,  smiling. 

Pelageyushka  suddenly  turned  pale  and  clasped  her  hands. 

"  Oh,  father,  father !  What  a  sin  !  And  you  with  a  son ! " 
Her  face  flushed  again.  "  Lord  forgive  him  f  Mdtushka^ 
what  does  this  mean  ? "  she  asked,  turning  to  the  Princess 
Mariya. 

She  got  up,  and  almost  weeping,  l)egan  to  gather  together 
her  saddlo-bag.  It  was  evident  that  it  was  both  terrible  and 
shameful  to  her  to  take  advantage  of  benefactions  in  a  house 

*  The  mdtushka^  little  mother  (that  is,  the  Virgin),  of  the  Petchoraky mon- 
astery,  or  Monastery  of  the  Catacombs,  at  Kief. 


i 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  128 

wheie  such  things  could  be  said,  and  yet  she  regretted  that  it 
was  now  necessary  for  her  to  deprive  herself  of  them. 

'^  Now  what  amusement  can  you  find  in  this  ?  "  asked  the 
Princess  Mariya.     "  Why  did  you  come  to  my  room  ?  " 

"No,  Pelageyushka,  I  was  only  joking,''  said  Pierre. 
'^Princesse,  ma  parole,  je  n^ai  pas  vaulu  Vqffenser — I  didn't 
mean  to  hurt  her  feelings.  It  was  only  my  way.  Don't  have 
such  an  idea ;  I  was  only  joking,"  he  repeated,  smiling  tim- 
idly, and  anxious  to  smooth  over  his  offence.  "You  see,  I 
was  only  in  fun  and  he  was,  too." 

The  old  Pelageyushya  paused  in  doubt,  but  Pierre's  face 
showed  such  sincere  repentance,  and  Prince  Andrei  looked  now 
at  her  and  now  at  Pierre  with  such  a  gentle  expression  that 
she  gradually  recovered  her  peace  of  mind. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

The  pilgrim  woman  soon  recovered  confidence  again,  and  re- 
turning to  her  favorite  theme,  gave  a  long  account  of  Father 
Amfilokhi,  who  was  such  a  holy  /nan  in  his  life  that  his  "  dear 
little  hands  "  smelt  of  incense,  and  how  her  friends  the  monks 
during  her  last  pilgrimage  to  Kief  had  given  her  the  keys  to 
the  catacombs,  and  how  she,  taking  only  some  little  biscuits  — 
mtkhdHki  —  had  spent  forty-eight  hours  in  them  with  the 
saints. 

"I  pray  before  one,  I  worship,  and  then  I  go  to  another. 
Then  I  take  a  nap  and  go  and  kiss  the  other  relics,  and  oh 
mdiushka,  such  peace,  such  blessed  comfort  —  never  did  I 
want  to  come  up  into  God's  world  again  ! " 

Pierre  listened  to  her  with  an  attentive  and  serious  expres- 
sion. Prince  Andrei  left  the  room,  and  the  Princess  Mariya, 
leaving  her  "  God's  people "  to  finish  drinking  their  tea,  in- 
vited Pierre  into  the  drawing-room. 

"  You  are  very  kind,"  said  she. 

"  Akh !  truly  I  did  not  mean  to  offend  her  !  I  appreciate  and 
prize  so  dearly  such  feelings." 

The  Princess  Mariya  looked  at  him  without  speaking,  and 
a  gentle  smile  played  over  her  lips. 

"  I  have  known  you  a  long  time,  and  I  feel  as  though  you 
were  my  own  brother,"  said  she.  "  How  do  you  find  Andrei  ?  " 
she  asked  hastily,  not  giving  him  time  to  respond  to  her  affec- 
tionate words.  "I  feel  very  solicitous  about  him.  In  the 
winter  his  health  was  better,  but  this  spring  his  wound  opened 


124  WAR   AND  PEACE. 

again,  and  the  doctor  said  that  he  ought  to  go  away  and  be 
treated.  And  I  am  very  apprehensive  about  his  mental  condi- 
tion. His  nature  is  so  different  from  us  women,  and  he  cannot 
ease  his  grief  by  a  good  fit  of  crying.  He  carries  it  in  his  heart 
To-day  he  is  jolly  and  full  of  life ;  but  that  is  caused  by  your 
visit.  He  is  rarely  so.  If  you  could  only  persuade  him  to  go 
abroad.  He  needs  activity,  and  this  quiet,  monotonous  life  is 
killing  him.     Other  people  don't  notice  it,  but  I  see  it." 

At  ten  o'clock  the  servants  rushed  to  the  doorsteps,  hearing 
the  harness-bells  of  the  old  prince's  carriage.  Prince  Andrei 
and  Pierre  also  hastened  to  meet  him. 

"  Who  is  this  ?  "  asked  the  old  prince,  as  he  got  out  of  the 
carriage  and  caught  sight  of  Pierre. 

**  Ah !  I  am  very  glad  !  Kiss  me  !  "  he  cried,  as  soon  as  he 
learned  who  the  young  stranger  was.  He  was  in  excellent 
spirits,  and  treated  Pierre  in  the  most  friendly  way. 

Before  supper.  Prince  Andrei,  returning  to  his  father's  cab- 
inet, found  him  in  a  hot  discussion  with  Pierre.  Pierre  argued 
that  the  time  was  coming  when  there  would  be  no  more  war. 
The  old  prince  in  a  bantering  but  not  angry  tone  maintained 
the  opposite.  "Drain  all  the  blood  from  men's  veins  and 
pour  in  water  instead,  and  then  you  will  have  an  end  of  war ! 
Old  women's  drivel !  old  women's  drivel ! "  he  exclaimed,  but 
still  he  affectionately  tapped  Pierre  on  the  shoulder  as  he  went 
over  to  the  table  where  Prince  Andrei  had  taken  a  seat,  evi- 
dently not  caring  to  enter  the  discussion,  and  was  glancing 
over  the  papers  which  his  father  had  brought  from  the  city. 
The  old  prince  went  to  him  and  began  to  talk  with  him  aboat 
business. 

"  Count  Rostof ,  the  marshal,  has  not  furnished  half  his  quota, 
and  when  I  got  to  town,  he  actually  conceived  the  notion  of 
asking  me  to  dinner  —  I  gave  him  an  answer  that  settled  him  ! 
But  just  look  at  this !  Well,  brother,"  said  Nikolai  Andreyitch, 
addressing  his  son,  but  patting  Pierre  on  the  shoulder,  '*  your 
friend  is  a  fine  young  man,  I  like  him  very  much.  He  warms 
me  up.  Many  another  has  clever  things  to  say,  but  one  doesn't 
care  anything  about  hearing  what  he  says.  But  this  one  suc- 
ceeds in  warming  an  old  man  like  me  all  up.  Well,  go  on,  go 
on,"  he  added.  "  Maybe  I'll  come  and  sit  down  to  supper  with 
ye.  I'd  like  another  discussion.  Make  yourself  agreeable  to 
my  little  goose,  the  Princess  Mariya,"  he  shouted  after  Pierre 
through  the  door. 

During  this  visit  to  Luisiya  Gorui,  Pierre  for  the  first  time 
appreciated  the  real  strength  and  charm  of  his  friendship  wiUi 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  125 

Prince  Andrei.  This  charm  was  manifested  not  so  much  by 
his  relations  with  Andrei  himself,  as  it  was  with  all  his  relar 
tives  and  the  inmates  of  the  house.  Pierre  felt  that  he  was 
received  on  the  footing  of  an  old  friend,  both  by  the  stern  old 
prince  and  the  sweet,  shy,  Princess  Mariya,  and  yet  neither  of 
them  had  hitherto  really  known  him.  Both  of  them  soon  grew 
to  be  very  fond  of  him.  The  Princess  Mariya,  whose  heart 
was  won  by  his  genial  treatment  of  her  pilgrim  friends,  looked 
at  him  from  her  big,  lucid  eyes,  and  even  the  little  "  yearling 
Prince  Nikolai,"  as  his  grandfather  called  him,  smiled  at  Pierre 
and  liked  to  go  to  him.  Mikhail  Ivanuitch  and  Mademoiselle 
Bourienne  looked  at  him  and  smiled  pleasantly  while  he  talked 
with  the  old  prince. 

The  old  prince  came  down  to  supper :  this  was  evidently  on 
Pierre's  account.  During  the  two  days  of  his  visit  at  Luisiya 
Gonii,  he  treated  him  in  the  most  nattering  way,  and  often 
bade  him  come  to  his  own  room. 

After  Pierre  had  gone,  and  all  the  members  of  the  family 
met,  they  began  to  express  their  opinions  of  him,  as  is  always 
the  case  after  the  departure  of  a  new  acquaintance ;  but,  as  is 
rarely  the  case,  they  all  agreed  in  saying  pleasant  things  of 
him. 

CHAPTER  XV. 

R08TOP,  on  returning  from  his  furlough,  for  the  first  time 
felt  and  realized  how  strong  were  the  ties  that  bound  him  to 
Denisof  and  the  rest  of  the  regiment. 

When  he  went  back  to  his  regiment  he  experienced  a  sensa- 
tion analogous  to  that  which  came  over  him  on  his  return 
to  his  home  on  the  Pavarskaya.  When  he  saw  the  first  hus- 
sar of  his  regiment,  with  unbuttoned  uniform,  when  he  recog- 
nized the  red-headed  Dementyef,  when  he  caught  sight  of  the 
roan  horses  picketed,  when  Lavnishka  joyfully  shouted  to  his 
barin :  "  The  count  has  come,"  and  the  tattered  Denisof,  who 
bad  been  having  a  nap,  came  running  out  from  his  earth  hut, 
and  threw  his  arms  around  him,  and  the  officers  all  came  out  to 
greet  him,  Rostof  felt  very  much  as  he  did  when  his  mother 
and  father  and  sister  welcomed  him  home :  tears  of  joy  filled 
his  throat  and  choked  his  utteranc'e. 

The  regiment  was  also  his  home,  and  as  sweet  and  dear  to 
him  as  the  home  of  his  childhood. 

After  reporting  to  the  regimental  commander  and  being  as- 
signed to  bi^  old  squadron,  after  taking  his  turn  as  officer  of 


I 


y 


126  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

the  day  and  forage  purveyor,  after  getting  into  the  current  of 
all  the  small  interests  of  the  regiment,  and  coming  to  a  realiz- 
ing sense  that  he  was  now  deprived  of  his  freedom,  and  was 
confined  to  a  narrow  and  rigid  routine,  —  Bostof  felt  the 
same  sense  of  restfuhiess,  the  same  moral  support,  and  the 
same  consciousness  of  being  at  home,  in  his  proper  place,  as  he 
had  felt  while  under  the  paternal  roof-ti-ee.  There  was  noth- 
ing more  of  that  mad  confusion  of  the  outside  world  in  which 
he  found  himself  out  of  place  and  often  engaged  in  question- 
able actions ;  there  was  no  Sonya,  with  whom  he  ought  or 
ought  not  to  come  to  an  explanation ;  thei^e  was  no  choice  of- 
fered him  of  going  somewhere  or  not  going  somewhere;  there 
were  no  longer  those  twenty-four  hours  which  had  to  be  filled 
with  so  many  varied  o(;cupations  ;  there  was  an  end  to  that  in- 
numerable throng  of  people  whose  presence  or  absence  was  a 
matter  of  indifference  to  him ;  there  w^as  an  end  to  those  ob- 
scure and  indefinable  pecuniary  relations  with  his  father ;  an 
end  to  his  recollections  of  those  terrible  losses  to  Dolokhof ! 

Here  in  the  regiment  all  was  open  and  simple.  All  the 
world  was  divided  into  two  unequal  divisions :  one  was  "  our  " 
Pavlograd  regiment,  and  the  other  —  all  the  rest.  And  he 
had  nothing  whatever  in  common  with  this  rest.  In  the 
regiment  everything  was  known:  who  was  lieutenant,  who 
was  captain,  who  was  a  good  fellow,  who  was  a  rascal,  and 
above  all,  who  was  his  messmate.  The  sutler  sold  on  credit, 
the  pay  was  given  quarterly.  There  was  no  necessity  for 
thought  or  decision,  provided  only  that  one  did  nothing  that 
was  considered  dishonorable  in  the  Pavlograd  regiment ;  but 
fulfil  your  duty,  do  what  is  commanded  you  in  clear,  explicit 
and  unmistakable  language,  and  all  will  be  well. 

Coming  back  again  to  these  explicit  conditions  of  army  life, 
Eostof  felt  a  sense  of  comfort  and  satisfaction  analogous  to 
that  experienced  by  a  weary  man  when  he  lies  down  to  rest. 
To  Eostof  his  army  life  was  all  the  more  agreeable  during  this 
campaign  from  the  fact  that  after  his  losses  from  his  gambling 
with  Dolokhof  —  an  action  which  he  could  not  forgive,  in 
spite  of  the  forgiveness  of  his  relatives  —  he  made  up  his 
mind  to  serve  not  as  formerly,  but  in  such  a  way  as  to  atone 
for  his  fault,  to  be  scrupulously  faithful,  to  prove  himself  a 
thoroughly  admirable  comrade  and  officer,  in  other  words  a 
"  fine  man."  This  might  seem  quite  too  hard  were  he  **  in  the 
world,"  but  was  quite  possible  in  the  regiment. 

He  had  also  determined,  ever  since  the  time  of  his  gambling 
episode,  to  pay  back  his  debt  to  his  parents  within  five  years. 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  127 

They  sent  him  ten  thousand  rubles  a  year ;  now  he  resolved 
to  take  only  two,  and  to  apply  the  remainder  to  the  extinction 
of  the  debt. 

Our  army,  after  repeated  marches  and  countermarches,  with 
skirmishes  at  Pultusk  and  at  Preussisch-Eylau,  was  concen- 
trated in  the  vicinity  of  Bartenstein,  where  they  were  await- 
ing the  arrival  of  the  emperor  and  the  beginning  of  a  new  cam- 
paign. 

The  Pavlograd  regiment,  belonging  to  that  division  of  the 
army  which  had  taken  part  in  the  movements  of  the  year  1805, 
had  been  recruited  to  its  full  quota  in  Kussia,  and  had  arrived 
too  late  for  these  first  actions  of  the  campaign.  It  had  been 
neither  at  Pultusk  nor  at  Preussisch-Eylau,  and  now,  at  the  be- 
ginning of  the  second  part  of  the  campaign,  having  united 
with  the  acting  army,  it  was  detailed  to  serve  under  Platof. 

Platof's  division  was  acting  independently  of  the  army. 
Several  times  the  Pavlogradsui  had  taken  part  in  skirmishes 
with  the  enemy,  captured  prisoners,  and  once  even  took  Mar- 
shal Oudinot's  baggage.  During  the  month  of  April,  the  Pav- 
li^radsui  were  stationed  for  several  weeks  in  the  vicinity  of 
an  utterly  dilapidated  and  deserted  German  village  without 
stirring  from  the  spot. 

It  was  thawing  and  cold ;  the  rivers  were  beginning  to  break 
up ;  the  roads  were  impassable,  owing  to  the  mud  ;  for  many 
days  no  provision  had  been  brought  for  horses  or  men.  'As  it 
seemed  an  impossibility  for  transport  trains  to  arrive,  the  men 
scattered  about  among  the  pillaged  and  deserted  villages  in 
search  of  potatoes,  but  even  these  were  scarce. 

Everything  had  been  devoured,  and  all  the  inhabitants  had 
fled.  Those  who  were  left  were  worse  than  poverty-stricken  : 
there  was  indeed  nothing  to  take  from  them,  and  even  the 
usually  pitiless  soldiery  oftentimes  let  them  keep  the  little 
that  they  had,  instead  of  appropriating  it  for  themselves. 

The  Pavlograd  regiment  had  lost  ^nly  two  men,  wounded 
in  engagements,  but  they  had  lost  almost  half  their  num- 
bers from  sickness  and  starvation.  Death  was  so  certain 
if  they  went  into  the  hospitals,  that  the  soldiers  suffering  from 
fevers  and  swellings,  caused  by  bad  food,  preferred  to  keep  in 
the  ranks  —  dragging  themselves  by  sheer  strength  of  will  to 
the  front,  rather  than  take  their  chances  in  the  hospitals. 

As  spring  opened,  they  began  to  find  a  plant  just  showing 
above  the  ground ;  it  resembled  asparagus,  and  for  some  reason 
they  called  it  "  Mashka's  sweetwort,"  though  it  was  very  bit- 


128  W^AR  AND  PEACE. 

ter.  They  hunted  for  it  all  over  the  fields  and  meadows,  dig- 
ging it  up  with  their  sabres  and  devouring  it,  in  spite  of  the 
injunction  not  to  eat  this  injurious  plant.  Later  a  new  dis- 
ease broke  out  among  the  soldiers  —  a  swelling  of  the  arms, 
legs,  and  face,  and  the  physicians  attributed  it  to  the  use  of 
this  root.  But  notwithstanding  the  prohibition,  the  men  of 
Denisof  s  squadron  eagerly  ate  "  Mashka's  sweetwort,"  because 
for  a  fortnight  they  had  been  trying  to  subsist  on  the  few  re- 
maining biscuits  —  half  pound  rations  being  dealt  out  to  each 
man,  while  the  last  consignment  of  potatoes  had  proved  to  be 
rotten  and  sprouted. 

The  horses  also  had  been  subsisting  for  a  fortnight  on  thatch- 
ing-straw taken  from  the  roofs,  and  had  become  shockingly 
emaciated,  and,  even  before  the  winter  was  over,  covered  with 
tufts  of  uneven  hair. 

Yet,  in  spite  of  this  terrible  destitution,  officers  and  men 
lived  just  the  same  as  usual.  Just  as  always,  though  with 
pale  and  swollen  faces,  and  in  ragged  uniforms,  the  hossais 
attended  to  their  duties,  went  after  forage  and  other  things, 
groomed  their  horses,  cleaned  their  arms,  tore  the  thatch  from 
roofs  to  serve  as  fodder,  and  gathered  around  the  kettles  for 
their  meals,  from  which  they  got  up  still  hungry,  while  they 
joked  over  their  wretched  fare  and  hunger.  And  just  as  usual 
during  the  hours  when  they  were  off  duty,  the  soldiers  built 
big  fires,  stripped  and  stood  around  them  steaming  themselves, 
smoked  their  pipes,  sorted  and  baked  their  rotten,  sprouting 
potatoes,  and  told  stories  about  the  campaigns  of  Patemkin 
and  Suvarof,  or  legends  of  Alyosha  the  Cunning,  or  of  Mikol- 
ka  Popov  itch  the  Journeyman. 

The  officers  also  as  usual  lived  in  couples,  or  in  threes,  in 
unroofed  and  half-ruined  houses.  The  older  ones  looked  after 
the  procuring  of  straw  and  potatoes  and  other  means  of  vic- 
tualling the  men.  The  younger  ones  were  occupied  as  usiud, 
some  with  card-playing  (money  was  plentiful  if  provisions 
were  not),  some  with  innocent  games, — svaika,  a  kind  of  ring 
toss,  and  quoits  or  skittles.  Little  was  said  about  matters  in 
general,  partly  because  nothing  positive  was  known,  partly  be- 
cause there  was  a  general  impression  that  the  war  was  going 
badly. 

Rostof  lived  just  as  before  with  Denisof,  and  the  friend- 
ship that  united  them  was  closer  than  ever  since  their  furlough. 
Denisof  never  spoke  of  Rostof's  family,  but  by  the  affectionate 
friendship  manifested  by  the  commander  for  his  subordinate 
officer,  Rostof  felt  assured  that  the  old  hussar's  unfortunate 


WAR  AND  P£ACE.  129 

love  for  Natasha  was  an  additional  factor  in  the  strength  of 
his  affection. 

Denisof  evidently  tried  to  send  Rostof  as  rarely  as  possible 
on  dangerous  expeditions,  and  to  shield  him,  and  after  a  skir- 
mish, or  anything  of  the  sort,  displayed  intense  delight  to  find 
him  safe  and  sound. 

On  one  of  his  expeditions  Rostof  found  an  old  Pole  and  his 
daughter,  with  an  infant  at  the  breast,  in  a  deserted,  ruined 
village,  where  he  had  gone  in  search  of  provisions.  They  were 
almost  naked  and  starving,  and  had  no  means  of  getting  away. 
Rostof  brought  them  to  liis  lodgings,  installed  them  in  his  own 
rooms,  and  kept  them  for  several  weeks,  until  the  old  man 
got  well.  One  of  Rostof's  comrades,  while  talking  about 
women,  began  to  make  sport  of  Rostof,  declaring  that  he  was 
the  slyest  of  them  all,  and  that  it  was  no  wonder  that  he  did 
not  care  to  introduce  his  comrades  to  the  pretty  little  Pole 
whom  he  had  rescued. 

Rostof  took  the  jest  as  an  insult,  and,  losing  his  temper, 
said  such  disagreeable  things  to  the  officer,  that  Denisof  had 
great  difficulty  in  preventing  a  duel.  When  the  officer  Imd 
gone,  and  Denisof,  who  knew  nothing  about  what  relationsliip 
Rostof  bore  toward  the  Pole,  began  to  upbraid  him.  for  his 
temper,  Rostof  said,  — 

"  Well,  maybe  you  are  right ;  she  is  like  a  sister  to  me,  and 
I  cannot  describe  how  this  thing  offended  me.  Because  — 
well,  because  "  — 

Denisof  gave  him  a  rap  on  the  shoulder  and  began  swiftly 
to  march  up  and  down  the  room,  not  looking  at  his  friend. 
This  was  a  habit  of  his  at  moments  of  mental  excitement.  ! 

"  What  a  deucedly  fine  bweed  all  those  Wostof  s  are  ! "  he 
exclaimed,  and  Rostof  noticed  tears  in  his  eyes. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

In  the  month  of  April,  the  troops  were  cheered  by  word  that 
the  sovereign  was  coming  to  the  army.  Rostof  did  not  have  the 
privilege  of  taking  part  in  the  review  made  by  the  emperor  at 
Bartenstein,  for  it  happened  that  the  Pavlogradsui  wero 
stationed  at  the  advanced  posts,  a  considerable  distance  in  front 
of  Bartenstein.  They  were  established  in  bivouacs.  Denisof 
and  Rostof  lived  in  an  earth-hut  excavated  for  them  by  their 
soldiers,  and  covered  with  boughs  and  turf. 

This  earth-hut  was  constructed  as  follows^  according  to  a 

VOL.  2.-9. 


180  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

plan  much  in  vogue  at  that  time :  a  trench  three  feet  and  a 
half  wide,  a  little  less  than  five  deep,  and  about  eight  long  was 
dug.  At  one  end  steps  were  constructed,  and  this  form.ed  the 
entry,  the  ''grand  staircase";  the  trench  itself  constituted 
the  abode,  in  which' those  who  were  fortunate,  as,  for  instance, 
the  squadron-commander,  had  a  board  set  on  posts  on  the  side 
opposite  the  entrance ;  this  served  as  the  table.  On  each  side 
along  the  trench  the  earth  was  hollowed  away  to  half  its  depth, 
making  a  bed  and  divan.  The  roof  was  so  constructed  that  in 
the  middle  it  was  possible  to  stand  erect  under  it,  and  one 
could  sit  up  on  the  beds  by  leaning  over  toward  the  table. 

Denisof,  who  lived  luxuriously,  because  the  men  of  his  squad- 
ron were  fond  of  him,  had  an  extra  board  in  the  pediment  of 
the  roof,  and  in  this  board  was  a  pane  of  glass,  broken  to  be 
sure,  but  mended  with  glue.  Wnen  it  was  very  cold,  coals 
from  the  soldiers'  fires  were  brought  on  a  bent  piece  of  sheet 
iron  and  set  on  the  steps  in  the  ''  reception-room,"  as  Denisof 
called  this  part  of  the  hovel,  and  this  made  it  so  warm  that 
the  officers,  who  used  to  come  in  great  numbers  to  visit  Deni- 
sof and  Rostof,  could  sit  there  in  their  shirt  sleeves. 

In  April,  Eostof  happened  to  be  on  dutv.  One  morning 
about  eight  o'clock,  returning  home  after  a  sleepless  night,  he 
ordered  some  coals  to  be  brought,  changed  his  linen,  which 
had  been  wet  through  by  the  rain,  went  through  his  devo- 
tions, drank  his  tea,  got  thoroughly  warmed,  put  his  belong- 
ings into  order  in  his  own  corner  and  on  the  table,  and,  wiui 
his  face  flushed  by  the  wind  and  the  fire,  threw  himself  down 
on  his  back,  in  his  shirt  sleeves,  with  his  arms  for  a  pillow. 
He  was  indulging  in  pleasant  anticipations  of  the  promotion 
which  was  likely  to  follow  his  last  reconnoitring  ex]>edition, 
and  was  waiting  for  the  return  of  Denisof,  who  had  gone  oflF 
somewhere.     Bostof  was  anxious  to  have  a  talk  with  him. 

Suddenly,  behind  the  hut,  he  heard  Denisof  s  high-pitched 
voice:  he  had  evidently  returned  in  a  bad  humor.  Rostof 
went  to  the  "  window  "  to  look  out  and  see  whom  he  was  be- 
rating ;  he  recognized  the  quartermaster,  Topcheyenko. 

''  I  have  given  you  special  orders  not  to  let  them  eat  that 
woot,  Mashka's  what-you-call-it,"  cried  Denisof.  "  And  here 
I've  seen  it  with  my  own  eyes  ;  Lazarchuk  was  bwinging  some 
in  fwom  the  field." 

"  I  have  given  the  order,  your  high  nobility,  but  they  won't 
listen  to  it,"  replied  the  quartermaster. 

Bostof  again  lay  down  on  his  bed,  and  said  to  himself  with 
a  feeling  of  content;  ''Let  him  kick  up  a  row  and  make  as 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  131 

much  fuss  as  be  pleases ;  I've  done  my  work,  and  now  1*11  lie 
down ;  it's  first-class ! " 

He  heard  Lavnishka,  Benisof s  shrewd  and  rascally  valet 
join  his  voice  to  the  conversation  going  on  outside  the  hut. 
Lavrushka  had  something  to  tell  about  ox-carts  laden  with  bis- 
cuits which  he  had  seen  as  he  was  going  after  provisions. 

DenisoFs  sharp  voice  was  again  heard  behind  the  hut,  and 
his  command :  '^  Second  platoon  to  saddle  ! " 

"  What  can  be  up  ?  "  wondered  Rostof. 

Five  minutes  later,  Benisof  came  into  the  hut,  climbed  up 
with  his  muddy  boots  on  his  bed,  lighted  his  pipe  in  grim  si- 
lence, tossed  over  all  his  belongings,  got  out  his  whip  and 
sabre  and  started  from  the  hut.  In  reply  to  Rostof  s  question, 
"Whither  away,"  he  gruffly  and  carelessly  replied  that  he 
had  something  to  attend  to. 

"  May  God  and  the  soveweign  be  my  judges ! "  he  exclaimed 
as  he  went  out,  and  then  Rostof  heard  the  hoofs  of  several 
horses  splashing  through  the  mud.  Rostof  did  not  take  any 
pains  to  inquire  where  Denisof  had  gone.  Warm  and  com- 
fortable in  his  corner,  he  soon  fell  asleep,  and  it  was  late  in  the 
afternoon  when  he  left  the  hut. 

Denisof  had  not  yet  returned.  The  weather  had  cleared  up 
bright  and  beautiful.  Near  a  neighboring  hut  two  officers  and 
a  yunker  were  playing  svd'ika,  merrily  laughing  as  they  drove 
the  redkij  or  mumblepegs  into  the  loose,  muddy  ground. 
Rostof  joined  them.  In  the  midst  of  the  game  the  officers 
saw  a  train  approaching  them :  fifteen  hussars  on  emaciated 
horses  followed  the  wagons.  The  teams,  convoyed  by  the 
hussars,  approached  the  picketing  station,  and  a  throng  of 
hussars  gathered  round  them. 

"  There  now,  Denisof  has  been  mourning  all  the  time,"  said 
Rostof,  "  and  here  are  provisions  after  all ! " 

"  See  there ! "  cried  the  officers.  "  Won't  the  men  be 
happy ! " 

A  short  distance  behind  the  hussars  rode  Denisof,  accom- 
panied by  two  infantry  officers,  with  whom  he  was  engaged  in 
a  heated  discussion.     Rostof  started  down  to  meet  him. 

"  I  was  ahead  of  you,  captain,"  declared  one  of  the  officers, 
a  lean  little  man,  evidently  beside  himself  with  passion. 

"  See  here  !  I  have  told  you  that  I  would  not  weturn  'em ! " 
replied  Denisof. 

"  You  shall  answer  for  it,  captain ;  this  is  violence  —  to  rob 
an  escort  of  their  wagons.  Our  men  have  not  had  anything  to 
eat  for  two  days." 


182  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

"  And  mine  have  not  had  anything  to  eat  for  two  weeks," 
replied  Denisof. 

"  This  is  highway  robbery.  You'll  answer  for  it,  my  dear 
sir,"  repeated  the  infantry  officer,  raising  his  voice. 

"  What  are  you  bothewing  me  for !  Hey  ?  "  screamed  Deni- 
sof, suddenly  losing  his  temper.  "  I  am  the  one  who  is  we- 
sponsible,  and  not  you.  What  is  the  object  of  allyour  buzzing 
here  ?     Forward !  —  Marsch  ! "  he  cried  to  the  officers. 

"  Very  good  !  "  screamed  the  little  officer,  not  quailing  and 
not  budging.     "  If  you  insist  on  pillage,  then  I "  — 

"  Take  yourself  off  to  the  devil !  Get  out  of  here ! "  and 
Denisof  rode  his  horse  straight  at  the  officer. 

"  Very  good,  very  good,"  reiterated  the  officer,  with  an  oath, 
and  turning  his  horse,  he  rode  off  at  a  gallop,  bouncing  in  his 
saddle. 

"  A  dog  on  a  fence,  a  weal  dog  on  a  fence,"  shouted  Deni- 
sof, as  he  rode  away.  This  was  the  most  insulting  remark 
that  a  cavalryman  could  make  to  a  mounted  infantry  man. 
Then  as  he  joined  Rostof,  he  burst  into  a  loud  laugh. 

"I  wescued  'em  from  the  infantwy,  I  cawied  off  their 
'twansport'  by  main  force,"  said  he.  "What!  do  they  think 
I  would  let  my  men  pewish  of  starvation  ?  " 

The  wagons  which  had  been  brought  to  the  hussars  were 
consigned  to  an  infantry  regiment,  but  Denisof,  learning 
through  Lavrushka  that  the  "  transport "  was  proceeding  alone, 
had  ridden  off  with  his  hussars  and  intercepted  it.  The  sol- 
diers had  as  many  biscuits  as  they  wished,  and  even  enough  to 
share  with  other  squadrons. 

The  next  day,  the  regimental  commander  summoned  Deni- 
isof,  and  covering  his  eyes  with  his  spread  fingers,  he  said, — 

"  This  is  the  way  I  look  at  it :  I  know  nothing  about  it,  and 
I  have  nothing  to  do  with  it ;  but  I  advise  you  to  go  instanter 
to  headquarters  and  report  this  affair  to  the  commissary  de- 
partment, and  if  possible  give  a  receipt  for  so  many  provisions 
reqeived ;  unless  you  do,  the  requisition  will  be  put  down  to 
the  infantry:  the  matter  will  be  investigated,  and  may  end 
badly." 

Denisof  went  straight  from  the  regimental  commander's  to 
the  headquarters,  with  a  sincere  intention  of  adopting  his  ad- 
vice. In  the  evening  he  returned  to  his  hut  in  a  condition 
such  as  Rostof  had  never  seen  his  friend  before.  He  could 
hardly  speak  or  breathe.  When  Rostof  asked  him  what  the 
matter  was,  he  only  broke  out  in  incoherent  oaths  and  threats, 
in  a  weak  and  husky  voice. 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  138 

Alarmed  at  Benisofs  condition,  Bostof  advised  him  to  un- 
dress, drink  some  cold  water,  and  send  for  a  physician. 

"  They  are  going  to  twy  me  for  wobbery  —  okh !  Give  me  a 
dwink  of  water :  let  'em  twy  me,  I  will  beat  the  waskals  evewy 
time,  and  I'll  tell  the  empewor.  Give  me  some  ice,"  he 
added. 

The  regimental  surgeon  came  in  and  said  that  it  was  abso- 
lutely necessary  to  take  some  blood  from  him.  He  Ulled  a 
soup  plate  with  dark  blood  from  Denisof's  hairy  arm,  and  then 
only  was  he  in  a  condition  to  tell  all  that  had  taken  place. 

"  1  get  there,"  said  Denisof,  telling  his  story.     " '  Where  is 
your  head  man  here  ? '     They  show  me.     *  Can't  you  wait  ?  ' 
*  I  have  pwessing  business  ;  come  thirty  versts,  impossible  to 
wait ;  let  me  see  him ! '     Vewy  good  :  out  comes  the  wobber- 
in-chief,  he  too  undertakes  to  lecture  me  :  '  This  is  highway 
wobbewy.'     '  A  man,'  says  I,  ^  is  not  a  wobl)er,  who  takes  pwo- 
^visions  to  feed  his  soldiers,  but  one  who  fills  his  own  pockets.' 
— '  Will  you  please  keep  quiet ! '     *  Vewy  good.'     '  Sign  a  we- 
ceipt  at  the  commissioner's,'  says  he  *  and  your  affair  will  take 
its  due  course.'     I  go  to  the  commissioner's.     I  go  in.     And 
there  at  the  table,  who  do  you  suppose  ?   No !     Guess.     Who 
has  been  starving  us  ? "  screamed  Denisof,  gesticulating  his 
wounded  arm,  and  pounding  the  table  with  his  fist  so  violently 
that  the  board  almost  split  and  the  glasses  on  it  jumped  up. 
"  Telyanin !  —  *  So  it's  you,  is  it,  who's  been  starving  us  ?  Once 
before  you  had  your  snout  slapped  for  you,  and  got  off  cheap  at 
that.     Ah !  what  a  —  what  a '  —  and  I  began  to  give  it  to  him. 
I  enjoyed  it,  I  can  tell  you,"  cried  Denisof,  angrily  and  yet 
gleefully  showing  his  white  teeth  under  his  black  mustache. 
"  I  should  have  killed  him,  if  they  had  not  sepawated  us." 
"Here,  here,  what  are  you  shouting  so  for?     Calm  your- 
self," said  Rostof.     "You've  set  your  arm  bleeding  again. 
Wait,  it  must  be  bandaged." 

They  bandaged  Denisof's  arm,  and  got  him  off  to  bed.  The 
following  day  he  woke  jolly  and  calm. 

But  at  noon,  the  adjutant  of  the  regiment,  with  a  grave  and 
regretful  face,  came  into  Rostof  and  Denisof's  earth-hut,  and 
with  real  distress  served  upon  Major  Denisof  a  formal  docu- 
ment from  the  regimental  commander,  who  had  been  called 
to  account  for  the  proceeding  of  the  day  before.  The  adju- 
tant informed  them  that  the  affair  was  likely  to  assume  a  very 
serious  aspect,  that  a  court-martial  commission  had  been  con- 
vened, and  that  on  account  of  the  severity  with  which  just  at 
that  time  rapine  and  lawlessness  were  treated,  he  might  con- 


134  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

sider  himself  fortunate  if  the  affair  ended  with  mere  degrada- 
tion. 

Those  who  felt  themselves  aggrieved,  represented  the  affair 
as  in  somewhat  this  way :  that  after  the  pillage  of  the  trans- 
port, Major  Denisof,  without  any  provocation  and  apparently 
drunk,  had  made  his  appearance  before  the "  commissary,** 
called  him  a  thief,  threatened  to  thrash  him,  and  when  he  was 
dragged  away,  he  had  rushed  into  the  office,  struck  two  ehitufv- 
niks,  and  sprained  the  arm  of  one  of  them. 

Denisof,  in  reply  to  a  fresh  series  of  questions  from  Rostof, 
laughed,  and  said  that  he  thought  some  one  else  had  been  there 
in  that  condition ;  but  that  all  this  story  was  nibbish,  fiddle- 
faddle,  that  he  was  not  afraid  of  any  court-martials,  and  that 
if  these  villains  dared  to  pick  a  quarrel  with  him,  he  would 
answer  them  in  a  way  that  they  would  not  soon  forget. 

Denisof  spoke  with  affected  indifference  about  all  the  affair; 
but  Rostof  knew  him  too  well  not  to  perceive  that  at  heart  — 
though  he  hid  it  from  the  rest  —  he  was  afraid  of  a  court-mar- 
tial, and  was  really  troubled  by  this  affair,  which  evidently 
might  have  sad  consequences.  Every  day,  inquiries,  sum- 
monses, and  other  documents  kept  coming  to  him,  and  on  the 
first  of  May  he  was  required  to  turn  over  his  command  to  his 
next  in  seniority,  and  appear  at  headquarters  of  the  divisions 
to  make  his  defence  in  the  matter  of  pillaging  the  provision 
train. 

On  the  evening  preceding  the  day  of  the  trial,  Platof  made 
a  reconnoissance  of  the  enemy,  with  two  regiments  of  Cos- 
sacks and  two  squadrons  of  hussars.  Denisof,  as  usual,  went 
out  beyond  the  lines,  in  order  to  make  an  exhibition  of  his 
gallantry.  A  bullet  sent  from  a  French  musket  struck  him 
in  the  fleshy  upper  portion  of  his  leg.  Most  likely  Denisof, 
in  ordinary  circumstances,  would  not  have  left  the  regi- 
ment for  such  a  trifling  wound,  but  now  he  profited  by  this 
occurrence,  gave  up  his  command  of  the  division,  and  went  to 
the  hospital. 

CHAPTER  XVII. 

In  the  month  of  June  occurred  the  battle  of  Friedland,  in 
which  the  Pavlogradsui  took  no  part,  and  this  was  followed 
immediately  by  an  armistice. 

Rostof  grievously  missed  his  friend,  and  as  he  had  not  had 
any  news  of  him  since  he  left  the  regiment,  and  was  doublv 
uneasy  about  his  trial  and  the  result  of  his  wound,  he  took  ad- 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  1S6 

rantage  of  the  armistice  and  went  to  the  hospital  to  make  in- 
quiries about  Denisof. 

The  hospital  was  established  in  a  small  Prussian  village, 
which  had  twice  been  sacked  by  the  Russian  and  French 
armies.  For  the  very  reason  that  it  was  summer,  when  every 
thing  in  nature  was  beautiful,  this  village,  with  its  ruined  roof- 
trees  and  fences  and  its  filthy  streets,  its  ragged  inhabitants, 
and  the  invalid  and  drunken  soldiers  wandering  about,  pre- 
sented an  especially  gloomy  appearance. 

The  hospital  had  been  established  in  a  stone  mansion  with 
many  broken  panes  and  window  frames,  and  situated  in  a  yard 
with  the  remains  of  a  ruined  fence.  A  number  of  pale-looking 
soldiers,  bandaged  and  swollen,  were  walking  up  and  down, 
or  sitting  in  the  sun  in  the  yard. 

As  soon  ^  Kostof  entered  the  house,  he  was  enveloped  by 
the  odor  of  putrefaction  and  disease.  On  the  doorstep  stair- 
case he  met  the  Russian  military  surgeon,  with  a  cigar  in  his 
mouth.  The  surgeon  was  followed  by  a  Russian  feldsher  or 
assistant. 

"  I  can't  be  everywhere  at  once,"  the  doctor  was  saying. 
"Come  this  evening  to  Makar  Alekseyevitch's,  I'll  be  there." 

The  feldsher  asked  him  some  question. 

"Eh  !  do  as  well  as  you  know  how!  It  doesn't  make  any 
difference,  does  it  ?  "  The  doctor  caught  sight  of  Rostof  mount- 
ing the  stairs.  "  What  are  you  doing  here,  your  nobility  ?  " 
asked  the  doctor.  "  What  are  joxx  doing  here  ?  Because  a 
ballet  hasn't  touched  you,  do  you  want  to  be  carried  off  by 
typhus  ?     This  is  the  house  of  leprosy  ! " 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  asked  Rostof. 

"  Typhus,  batyushka  !  It's  death  for  whoever  comes  in  here. 
Makeyef,"  he  pointed  to  his  assistant,  "  Makeyef  and  I  are 
the  only  two  left  to  wriggle  !  Five  of  our  brother  doctors  have 
died  already.  When  a  new  man  comes,  it's  all  up  with  him 
in  a  week,"  said  the  doctor,  with  apparent  satisfaction.  "  The 
Prussian  doctors  were  invited,  but  our  allies  did  not  like  it  at 
aU." 

Rostof  explained  his  anxiety  to  find  Major  Denisof  of  the 
hussars. 

'*  I  don't  know  ;  I  don't  remember  him.  You  can  imagine : 
I  have  charge  of  three  hospitals;  four  hundred  sick  is  too 
many.  It's  a  very  good  thing  for  benevolent  Prussian 
ladies  to  send  us  coffee  and  lint  at  the  rate  of  two  pounds 
a  month;  if  they  didn't  we  should  be  utterly  lost."  Ho 
laughed.     "  Four  hundred !  and  they  send  me  all  the  new  cases. 


186  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

There  are  four  hundred,  aren't  there  ?  Hey  ?  "  he  asked  of 
the  feldsher.  His  assistant  looked  annoyed.  It  was  evident 
that  he  was  impatient  for  the  too-loquacious  doctor  to  make 
haste  and  take  his  departure. 

"  Major  Denisof,"  repeated  Bostof .  "  He  was  wounded  at 
Moliten." 

"  I  think  he's  dead.  How  is  it,  Makeyef  ?  "  asked  the  doc- 
tor, in  an  indifferent  tone  of  the  feldsher. 

The  assistant  simply  repeated  the  doctor's  words. 

'<  Tell  me,  was  he  a  tall,  reddish  man  ? ''  asked  the  doctor. 

Bostof  described  Denisof  s  appearance. 

"Yes,  there  was,  there  certainly  was  such  a  person,"  ex- 
claimed the  doctor,  seeming  to  show  a  gleam  of  satisfaction. 
"But  that  person,  I'm  sure,  must  have  died;  however,  I'll 
make  inquiries;  I  had  the  lists;  you  have  them,  Makejef, 
haven't  you  ?  " 

"The  lists  are  at  Makar  Alekseyevitch's,'*  replied  the  feld- 
sher. "  But  you  might  inquire  in  the  officers'  ward,  there  you 
would  find  out  for  yourself,"  he  added,  turning  to  Bostof. 

"Ekh!  you'd  better  not  go,"  said  the  surgeon.  "You 
wouldn't  like  to  be  kept  here ! " 

Bostof,  however,  took  leave  of  the  surgeon,  and  begged  the 
feldsher  to  show  him  the  way. 

"  Don't  you  lay  the  blame  on  me,"  shouted  the  doctor,  up 
from  the  bottom  of  the  stairs. 

Bostof  and  the  feldsher  went  along  the  corridor.  The  hos- 
pital odor  was  so  powerful  in  this  dark  corridor  that  Bostof 
took  hold  of  his  nose,  and  was  obliged  to  pause  to  collect  his 
strength  before  he  could  go  farther.  At  the  right,  a  door 
opened  and  a  thin,  sallow-looking  man,  on  crutches,  barefooted, 
and  in  his  shirt  sleeves,  appeared.  As  he  crossed  the  lintel, 
he  gazed  with  gleaming,  envious  eyes  at  the  approaching  man. 
Glancing  through  the  door,  Bostof  saw  that  the  sick  and 
wounded  were  lying  in  the  room  over  the  floor,  on  straw,  ard 
on  their  cloaks. 

"  May  I  go  in  and  look  ?  "  he  asked. 

"What  is  there  to  see  ?"  replied  the  officer.  But  for  the 
very  reason  that  the  feldsher  was  evidently  reluctant  to  have 
him  go  in,  Bostof  was  determined  to  investigate  the  soldiers' 
ward.  The  effluvium,  which  he  had  already  smelt  in  the  cor^ 
ridor,  was  still  strongei*  here.  It  had  also  changed  somewhat 
in  character :  it  was  sharper,  more  penetrating,  one  could  be 
certain  that  this  was  the  very  place  where  it  originated. 

In  a  long  room,  brilliantly  illuminated  by  the  sun,  which 


^ 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  187 

poured  in  through  the  high  windows,  lay  the  sick  and  wounded 
in  two  rows,  with  their  heads  to  the  walls,  leaving  a  passage- 
way between  their  feet.  The  most  of  them  were  asleep  or  un- 
conscious, and  paid  no  attention  to  the  visitors.  Those  who 
had  their  senses,  either  lifted  themselves  up  or  raised  their 
thin,  yellow  faces,  and  all,  without  exception,  gazed  at  Rostof 
with  one  and  the  same  expression  of  hope  that  help  had  come, 
of  reproach  and  envy  at  seeing  another  so  strong  and  well. 

Kostof  went  into  the  middle  of  the  ward,  glanced  through 
the  half-open  doors  into  the  adjoining  rooms,  and  on  both  sides 
saw  the  same  spectacle.  He  paused  and  silently  looked  around 
him.  He  had  never  expected  to  see  such  a  thing.  In  front 
of  him,  almost  across  the  narrow  passageway,  lay,  on  the  bare 
floor,  a  sick  man,  apparently  a  Cossack,  as  his  hair  was  cropped, 
leaving  a  tuft.  This  Cossack  lay  on  his  back,  with  his  huge 
legs  and  arms  sprawled  out.  His  face  was  a  livid  purple.  His 
eyes  were  rolled  up  so  that  only  the  whites  could  be  seen,  and 
the  veins  in  his  bare  legs  and  arms,  which  were  still  red,  stood 
out  like  cords.  He  was  thumping  his  head  on  the  floor  and 
hoarsely  muttering  some  word  which  he  repeated  over  and 
over  again.  Eostof  listened  to  what  he  was  saying,  and  at  last 
made  out  what  the  word  was  :  this  word  was  "  water  —  water 
—  water  !  "  Kostof  looked  around  in  search  of  some  one  to 
put  the  man  in  his  place  and  give  him  a  drink. 

"  Who  looks  after  the  sick  here  ?  "  he  asked  of  the  feldsher, 
Just  at  that  moment  a  train-soldier,  detailed  to  act  as  nurse. 
came  along,  and,  scraping,  made  a  low  bow  before  Rostof. 

"  I  wish  you  good  morning,  your  high  nobility,"  cried  the 
soldier,  rolling  his  eyes  on  Rostof,  and  evidently  mistaking 
him  for  some  important  official. 

"  Lift  him  up ;  give  him  water,"  said  Rostof,  pointing  to  the 
Cossack. 

"  I  will,  your  high  nobility,"  said  the  soldier,  with  alacrity, 
rolling  his  eyes  round  still  more  attentively,  and  craning  his 
neck,  but  still  not  stirring  from  the  spot. 

"  No,  there^s  nothing  I  can  do  here,"  thought  Rostof,  drop- 
ping his  eyes ;  he  was  about  to  go  on,  but  felt  the  conscious- 
ness that  an  entreating  glance  was  fixed  upon  him  from  the 
right,  and  he  turned  around  to  see.  Almost  in  the  very  corner  of 
the  room,  an  old  soldier  was  sitting  on  a  cloak.  He  had  a  thin, 
stem  face,  as  yellow  as  a  skeleton,  and  a  rough,  gray  beard  : 
he  looked  entreatingly  at  Rostof.  A  neighbor  of  the  old  sol- 
dier on  one  side  seemed  to  be  whispering  something  to  him, 
and  pointed  to  Rostof.     Rostof  realized  that  the  old  man  was 


^ 


138  y^AR  AND  PEACE. 

determined  to  ask  him  some  favor.  He  went  nearer  and  per- 
ceived that  one  leg  was  affected  with  gangrene,  and  that  the 
other  had  been  amputated  above  the  knee.  Another  neighbor 
of  the  old  man's  lay  motionless  at  some  little  distance  from 
him,  with  his  head  thrown  back :  this  was  a  young  soldier, 
whose  snub-nosed  face,  still  covered  with  freckles,  was  as  white 
as  wax ;  the  eyes  rolled  up  under  his  lids. 

Eostof  looked  at  the  snub-nosed  soldier,  and  a  cold  chill  ran 
down  his  back. 

"  But  this  one,  it  seems  to  me,  is  "  —  he  began,  turning  to 
the  feldsher. 

"  We  have  already  begged  and  prayed,  your  nobility,"  said 
the  old  soldier,  with  his  lower  jaw  trembling.  "  It  was  all 
over  this  morning.     Why  !  we  are  men,  and  not  dogs." 

"  I  will  see  to  it  immediately,  he  shall  be  removed,  he  shall 
be  removed,"  hurriedly  said  the  feldsher.  "  I  beg  of  you,  your 
nobility  "  — 

"Come  on,  come  on,"  replied  Rostof,  also  hurriedly,  and 
dropping  his  eyes  and  shrinking  all  together,  trying  to  pass 
unobserved  under  the  gauntlet  of  those  reproachful  and  en- 
vious eyes  fixed  upon  him,  he  left  the  room. 


CHAPTER  XVin. 

Passing  along  the  corrider,  the  feldsher  led  Rostof  into  the 
officer's  ward,  which  consisted  of  three  rooms,  communicating 
by  opened  doors.  There  were  beds  in  these  rooms ;  the  sick 
and  wounded  officers  were  lying  and  sitting  on  them.  Some, 
in  dressing  gowns,  were  pacing  up  and  down  the  rooms. 

The  first  person  whom  Rostof  met  in  the  officer's  ward  was 
a  little  slim  man,  without  an  arm,  and  wearing  a  cap  and 
dressing  gown,  who  was  walking  up  and  down  the  first  room 
with  a  pipe  in  his  mouth.  Rostof,  on  catching  sight  of  liim, 
racked  his  brains  to  remember  where  he  had  seen  him, 

"  What  a  place  for  God  to  bring  us  together  again ! "  ex- 
claimed the  little  man.  "  I'm  Tushin,  Tushin,  don't  you  re- 
member ?  I  brought  you  back  safe  at  Schongraben  I  Well, 
they've  lopped  off  a  little  morsel,  see  here  ! "  said  he,  smiling, 
and  pointing  to  the  empty  sleeve  of  his  khalat.  "  And  you're 
hunting  for  Vasili  Dmitrievitch  Denisof.  He's  one  of  our 
chums !  "  he  said,  on  learning  whom  Rostof  wanted.  "  Here, 
here,"  and  Tushin  drew  him  into  the  second  room,  where  sev- 
eral men  were  heard  laughing  loudly. 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  139 

^'  I  declare  !  how  can  they  think  of  living  here,  much  less  of 
laughing  ?  "  wondered  Kostof,  with  the  odor  of  the  dead  body 
which  he  had  seen  in  the  soldiers'  ward  still  in  his  nostrils, 
and  still  seeing  those  envious  glances  fixed  upon  him  and  fol- 
lowing him,  and  the  face  of  that  young  soldier  with  the  up- 
turned eyes. 

Denisof,  with  his  head  buried  under  the  bedclothes,  was 
sound  asleep  on  his  bed,  although  it  was  noon. 

"  What  ?  Wostof  ?  How  are  you,  how  are  you  ?  "  he  cried, 
in  exactly  the  same  voice  as  when  he  was  with  the  regiment, 
but  Rostof  observed  with  pain  that  hidden  under  this  show  of 
ease  and  vivacity,  there  was  a  shadow  of  a  new  and  disagreea- 
ble asperity  in  Denisof's  expression,  and  in  his  words  and  tones. 

His  wound,  in  spite  of  its  insignificance,  was  still  unhealed, 
though  six  weeks  had  passed  since  the  skirmish.  His  face, 
also,  had  the  same  pallor  and  look  of  puffiness  which  charac- 
terized all  the  inmates  of  the  hospital.  But  it  was  not  this 
that  so  especially  struck  Rostof :  he  was  amazed  by  the  fact 
that  Denisof  did  not  seem  to  be  glad  to  see  him,  and  smiled 
unnaturally.  Denisof  did  not  once  inquire  about  the  regiment 
or  about  the  general  course  of  affairs.  When  Rostof  spoke  of 
these  things,  Denisof  did  not  even  listen. 

Rostof  noticed  that  it  was  even  distasteful  to  Denisof  to  be 
reminded  of  the  regiment,  and  in  general  of  that  larger  and 
freer  existence  going  on  outside  of  the  hospital.  It  seemed  as 
though  he  were  trying  to  forget  his  former  life,  and  the  only 
thing  that  interested  nim  was  his  quarrel  with  the  commissary 
chinovnik. 

In  reply  to  Rostofs  question  how  the  affair  was  going,  he 
immediately  pulled  out  from  under  his  pillow  a  document 
which  he  had  received  from  the  commission,  and  the  rough 
draft  of  his  own  reply  to  it.  He  brightened  up  as  he  began  to 
read  his  document,  and  he  called  Rostofs  attention  to  the  keen 
things  which  he  said  against  his  enemies  in  his  reply.  Deni- 
sofs  acquaintances  of  the  hospital,  who  had  crowded  around 
Rostof  as  a  person  from  the  outside  world,  gradually  scattered 
as  soon  as  Denisof  began  to  read  his  paper.  6y  their  faces,  Ros- 
tof perceived  that  all  these  gentlemen  had  more  than  once  heard 
the  whole  story  and  were  heartily  sick  of  it.  Only  one,  his 
neighbor  of  the  next  bed,  a  stout  Uhlan,  still  kept  his  seat  on 
his  hammock,  frowning  gloomily,  and  smoking  his  pipe ;  and 
the  little,  armless  Tushin  continued  to  listen,  though  he  shook 
his  head  disapprovingly.  In  the  midst  of  the  reading,  the  Uh- 
lan interrupted  Denisof,  — 


140  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

"  Now,  it's  my  opinion,"  said  he,  turning  to  Bostof,  "  that 
the  only  thing  to  do  is  simply  to  petition  the  sovereign  for 
pardon.  They  say  now  there  are  going  to  be  great  rewards, 
and  a  mere  matter  of  a  pardon  "  — 

"  I  petition  the  soveweign ! "  exclaimed  Denisof ,  in  a  voice  in 
which  he  tried  hard  to  maintain  his  old-time  energy  and  vehe- 
mence, but  which  sounded  helplessly  feeble. 

"  What  for  ?  If  I  had  been  a  highway  wobber,  I  might  peti- 
tion for  pardon,  but  here  I  am  court-martialled  because  I  *  cawy 
these  wobbers  through  clean  water,'  as  the  saying  is.  Let  Vm 
twy  me,  I'm  not  af waid  of  'em !  I  have  served  my  tsar  honow- 
ably,  and  my  countwy,  and  I  have  not  been  a  thief  !  and  they 
degwade  me  and  —  See  here !  listen  to  what  I  w'ite  'em  in 
stwaightforward  language.  This  is  what  I  wite :  *  If  I  had 
been  an  embezzler ' "  — 

"It's  cleverly  written,  no  question  about  that,"  said  To- 
shin.  "But  that  is  not  the  point,  Vasili  Dmitritch."  He 
turned  also  to  Rostof :  "  He  must  give  in,  and  this  is  what 
Vasili  Dmitritch  will  not  hear  to  doing.  Now  there,  the  audi- 
tor himself  told  you  that  it  was  a  bad  business." 

"  Let  it  be  bad  business,  then,"  exclaimed  Denisof. 

"  And  the  auditor  wrote  a  petition  for  you,"  continued  Tu- 
shin,  "  and  you  had  better  sign  it  and  give  it  to  him.  He  "  — 
meaning  Rostof  —  "  has  influence  at  headquarters.  You  won't 
find  a  better  chance." 

"  Yes,  but  haven't  I  told  you  that  I  won't  stoop  to  cwinge," 
interrupted  Denisof,  and  once  more  he  set  out  to  finish  his  doc- 
ument. 

Rostof  did  not  dare  to  argue  with  Denisof,  although  he  felt 
instinctively  that  the  course  indicated  by  Tushin  and  the  other 
officers  was  the  one  advisable,  and  although  he  should  have 
counted  himself  happy  to  find  a  chance  to  render  Denisof  a  ser- 
vice, he  knew  Denisofs  unbending  will  and  the  righteousness 
of  his  wrath. 

When  Denisof  had  finished  reading  his  venomous  diatribe, 
which  had  consumed  more  than  an  hour,  Rostof  had  nothing 
to  say,  and  he  spent  the  rest  of  the  day  in  the  society  of  Deni- 
sofs companions,  who  had  gathered  around  him  again,  talk- 
ing. He  told  them  all  the  news,  and  listened  to  the  tales  of 
the  others.  Denisof  preserved  a  moody  silence  all  the  after- 
noon. 

Late  in  the  afternoon,  Rostof  got  up  to  go,  and  asked  Deni- 
sof if  there  was  nothing  that  he  could  do  for  him. 

"  Yes,  wait,"  said  Denisof,  glancing  at  the  officers,  and,  pull- 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  141 

ing  some  papers  out  from  under  his  pillow,  he  went  to  the 
window,  where  stood  an  inkstand,  and  began  to  write. 

''You  can't  split  an  axe-head  with  a  whip/'  said  he,  as  he 
came  away  from  the  window,  and  gave  Rostof  a  large  envelope. 
This  was  the  petition  to  the  emperor,  which  the  auditor  had 
written  for  him ;  in  it  nothing  was  said  whatever  about  the 
faults  of  the  commissary  department,  but  he  simply  craved 
pardon. 

"  Hand  it  in ;  it's  evident "  —  he  did  not  finish  his  sentence, 
and  smiled  a  painfully  unnatural  smile. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

Ok  his  return  to  the  regiment,  and  having  made  his  report 
to  the  commander,  in  regard  to  Denisofs  condition,  Rostof  set 
oat  for  Tilsit  with  the  petition  to  the  sovereign. 

On  the  twenty-fifth  of  June,  the  French  and  Russian  emper- 
ors had  met  at  Tilsit.  Boris  Drubetskoi  begged  the  distin- 
gpished  individual  to  whose  staff  he  was  attached  for  permis- 
sion to  be  present  at  the  conference,  which  was  to  be  held  at 
Tilsit. 

"  Je  vinidrais  voir  le  grand  fiorrvmej  I  want  to  see  him  with 
my  own  eyes,"  said  he,  speaking  of  Napoleon,  whom  he,  like 
every  one  else,  had  always  hitherto  called  Buonaparte. 

'^  You  mean  Buonaparte  ?  "  asked  the  general,  with  a  smile. 

Boris  looked  inquiringly  at  his  general,  and  immediately 
perceived  that  the  general  was  trying  to  quiz  him. 

"  Man  prince^  je  parle  de  VEmpereiir  Napoleon"  he  replied. 

The  general,  with  a  smile,  tapped  him  on  the  shoulder. 
"Youll  get  on,"  said  he,  and  he  took  him  with  him. 

Boris  was  one  of  the  few  who  were  there  at  the  Niemen  on 
the  day  when  the  emperors  met ;  he  saw  the  rafts  with  the 
monograms ;  he  saw  Napoleon  ride  down  the  bank  past  the 
Frendi  Guards  ;  he  saw  the  Emperor  Alexander's  thoughtful 
face,  as  he  sat  in  silence  in  the  inn  on  the  bank  of  the  river, 
waiting  for  Napoleon  to  come ;  he  saw  the  two  emperors  get 
into  the  boats,  and  Napoleon,  who  was  the  first  to  reach  the 
raft,  go  forward  with  swift  steps  to  meet  Alexander,  give  him 
Us  hand,  and  then  disappear  with  him  under  the  pavilion. 

Ever  since  his  entry  into  the  highest  circles,  Boris  had  con- 
ceived the  habit  of  carefully  observing  whatever  was  going 
on  around  him  and  recording  it.  During  the  time  of  the  in- 
terview at  Tilsit,  he  inquired  the  names  of  the  persons^es  who 


142  WAR  AND  PEACE, 

came  with  l^apoleon,  remarked  the  uniforms  which  they  had 
on,  and  listened  with  great  attention  to  the  words  spoken  by 
all  the  men  of  importance.  At  the  moment  that  the  emperors 
went  into  the  pavilion,  he  looked  at  his  watch,  and  he  did  not 
fail  to  look  at  it  again  at  the  moment  when  Alexander  came 
forth  from  the  pavilion.  The  interview  lasted  an  hour  and 
fifty-three  minutes ;  this  fact  he  wrote  down  that  very  same 
evening,  together  with  many  others  which  he  felt  had  histori- 
cal significance. 

Thus,  the  emperor's  suite  being  very  small,  the  fact  of  be- 
ing present  at  Tilsit  at  the  time  of  the  interview  was,  for  a 
man  who  prized  success  in  the  service,  fraught  with  deep 
meaning ;  and  Boris,  who  enjoyed  this  privilege,  felt  that  his 
position  was  henceforth  secured.  He  was  not  only  known  by 
name,  but  was  looked  upon  as  indispensable,  and  expected  to 
be  seen  around.  Twice  he  was  sent  on  errands  to  the  emperor 
himself,  so  that  the  sovereign  came  to  know  his  face,  and  the 
inner  circle  not  only  ceased  to  shun  him  as  ''a  new  person,'' 
as  before,  but  would  have  been  surprised  at  his  absence. 

Boris  lodged  with  another  adjutant,  the  Polish  Count  Zhi- 
linsky.  Zhilinsky,  though  a  Polyak,  had  been  educated  in 
Pai-is,  was  rich,'  was  passionately  fond  of  the  French,  and 
almost  every  day,  during  the  time  of  the  interview  at  Tilsit, 
he  and  Boris  used  to  have  the  officers  of  the  Guards  and  mem- 
bers of  the  imperial  French  staff  to  breakfast  and  dine  with 
them. 

On  the  evening  of  the  sixth  of  July,  Count  Zhilinsky,  Boris's 
chum,  was  giving  a  dinner  to  some  of  his  French  acquaintances. 
At  this  dinner,  the  guest  of  honor  was  one  of  Napoleon's  aides ; 
there  were  a  number  of  the  officers  of  the  Imperial  Guards, 
and  a  young  lad  belonging  to  an  old  aristocratic  family,  who 
was  Napoleon's  page. 

That  same  day,  Eostof,  profiting  by  the  darkness  to  pass  un- 
recognized, proceeded  to  Tilsit,  in  civil  dress,  and  went  to 
the  apartment  occupied  by  Zhilinsky  and  Boris. 

Eostof,  in  common  with  the  whole  army  from  which  he 
came,  were  as  yet  far  from  experiencing  that  change  which 
had  taken  place  at  headquarters,  and  in  Boris,  in  regard  to 
Napoleon  and  the  French,  —  to  look  upon  them  as  friends  in- 
stead of  foes. 

As  yet,  all  connected  with  the  army  still  continued  to  expe- 
rience their  former  derisive  feeling  of  ill-will,  scorn,  and  fear 
of  Bonaparte  and  the  French.  Only  a  short  time  before,  Ros- 
tof,  in  talking  with  a  Cossack  officer  of  Platof 's  division,  had 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  143 

contended  that  if  Napoleon  had  been  taken  prisoner,  he  wonld 
have  been  treated,  not  as  a  sovereign,  but  as  a  criminal. 

Even  more  recently,  falling  in  with  a  French  colonel,  who 
had  been  wounded,  Eostof  had  become  heated  in  trying  to 
prove  that  there  could  be  no  peace  between  a  lawful  sovereign 
and  a  criminal  like  Bonaparte. 

It  struck  Eostof  strangely,  therefore,  to  see  in  Boris's  rooms 
French  officers,  in  the  very  same  uniforms  which  he  had  been 
iD  the  habit  of  viewing  in  an  utterly  different  light,  across 
from  the  skirmisher's  lines. 

The  moment  he  saw  a  French  officer  looking  out  of  the  door, 
that  feeling  of  war,  of  hostility,  which  he  always  experienced 
at  sight  of  the  foe,  suddenly  took  i>ossession  of  him.  He  paused 
at  the  threshold,  and  asked  in  Eussian  if  Drubetskoi  lived 
there. 

Boris  heard  the  unwonted  voice  in  the  entry,  and  came  out 
to  meet  him.  At  the  first  moment,  on  recognizing  Eostof,  a 
shade  of  annoyance  crossed  his  face. 

"Ah !  is  it  you  ?  Very  glad,  very  glad  to  see  you,"  said 
he,  nevertheless,  and  coming  towards  him  with  a  smile.  But 
Bostof  had  noticed  his  first  impression. 

"It  seems  I  have  come  at  the  wrong  time,"  said  he.  "I 
should  not  have  come,  but  I  had  business,"  said  he,  coldly. 

"  No,  I  was  only  surprised  that  you  had  got  away  from  your 
regiment.  Dans  un  moment  je  suis  a  vans/'  he  shouted,  in 
reply  to  some  one  calling  him  from  within. 

"I  see  that  my  visit  is  untimely,"  repeated  Eostof. 

The  expression  of  annoyance  had  entirely  disappeared  by 
this  time  from  Boris's  face ;  apparently  having  considered  and 
made  up  his  mind  what  course  to  pursue,  he  seized  his  visitor 
by  both  hands,  with  remarkable  ease  of  manner,  and  drew  him 
into  the  adjoining  room.  Boris's  eyes,  fixed  calmly  and  confi- 
dently on  Bostof,  were,  as  it  were,  shielded  by  something  — 
as  though  there  were  a  screen,  the  blue  spectacles  of  high  soci- 
ety—  placed  in  front  of  them.     So  it  seemed  to  Eostof. 

"  Akh  !  please  say  no  more  about  being  come  inopportunely," 
said  Boris.  He  drew  him  into  the  room  where  the  table  was 
set  for  dinner,  introduced  him  to  the  guests,  calling  him  by 
pame,  and  explaining  that  he  was  not  a  civilian,  but  an  officer 
in  the  hussars,  and  an  old  friend  of  his.  "  Count  Zhilinsky," 
"  le  Comte  N.  N.,"  "  le  Capitaine  S.  S.,"  said  he,  naming  the 
guests.  Eostof  scowled  at  the  Frenchmen,  bowed  stiffly,  and 
said  nothing. 

Zhilinsky  was  evidently  displeased  at  the  intrusion  of  this 


144  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

new  Kussiau  individual  into  his  circle,  and  had  nothing  to  say 
to  Rostof.  Boris,  affecting  not  to  notice  the  awkwardness  pro- 
duced by  the  introduction  of  the  new-comer,  and  still  display- 
ing the  same  easy  grace  and  impenetrable  look  of  his  eyes,  with 
which  he  had  received  Rostof,  tried  to  enliven  the  conversa- 
tion. 

One  of  the  Frenchmen  turned,  with  characteristic  Gallic 
politeness,  to  the  stubbornly  silent  Rostof,  and  remarked  that 
he  supposed  he  had  come  to  Tilsit  to  see  the  emperor. 

"No,  I  came  on  business,"  replied  Rostof,  laconically. 

Rostof 's  ill-humor  had  coiua  on  immediately  at  noticing  the 
annoyance  expressed  in  Boris's  face,  and,  as  usually  happens 
with  people  who  are  out  of  sorts,  he  imagined  that  all  were 
looking  at  him  with  unfriendly  eyes,  and  that  he  was  in  their 
way.  And,  in  truth,  he  was  in  their  way,  for  he  took  no  part 
in  the  conversation  that  was  just  beginning. 

"  And  why  is  he  sitting  there  ?  "  the  glances  that  were  fixed 
on  him  seemed  to  say.     He  got  up  and  went  to  Boris. 

"I  know  I  am  a  constraint  to  you,"  said  he,  in  a  whisper. 
"  Come,  let  me  tell  you  about  my  business,  and  I  will  be  going." 

"  No,  not  in  the  least,"  replied  Boris.  "  But  if  you  are  tired, 
let  us  go  into  my  room,  and  you  can  lie  down  and  rest." 

"  Well,  really  "  — 

They  went  into  Boris's  little  sleeping-room.  Rostof,  with- 
out sitting  down,  began  in  a  pettish  tone  —  as  though  Boris 
were  in  some  way  to  blame  for  the  matter  — to  tell  him  about 
Denisof 's  affair,  and  asked  him  if  he  could  and  would  send  in 
the  petition  for  Denisof,  through  the  general  on  whose  staff  he 
was  serving,  and  see  to  it  that  Denisof's  letter  reached  the 
emperor. 

When  the  two  were  alone  together,  Rostof,  for  the  first  time, 
found  it  awkward  to  look  into  Boris's  eyes.  Boris,  sitting 
with  his  legs  crossed,  and  pressing  the  slender  fingers  of  his 
right  hand  into  his  left,  listened  to  Rostof  in  the  same  way  as 
a  general  listens  to  a  report  from  his  subordinate ;  sometimes 
he  glanced  around,  and  then  again  looked  into  Rostofs  face 
with  that  peculiar  veil  of  impenetrability  over  his  eyes.  Ros- 
tof felt  awkward  every  time  that  he  did  so,  and  he  looked 
down. 

"  I  have  heard  of  things  like  that,  and  I  know  that  the  sov- 
ereign is  very  strict  in  such  cases.  I  think  it  would  be  best 
not  to  bring  it  to  his  majesty's  attention.  In  my  opinion,  it 
would  be  better  to  give  the  petition  directly  to  the  commander 
of  the  corps.     And,  as  a  general  thing,  I  think  "  — 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  145 

"Then  you  don't  care  to  do  anything.  Why  not  say  it  right 
out !  "  Rostof  almost  shouted,  not  looking  at  Boris's  eyes. 

Boris  smiled :  "  On  the  contrary,  I  will  do  all  that  is  in 
my  power.     But  I  thought "  — 

At  this  moment,  Zhilinsky's  voice  was  heard,  calling  Boris 
hack. 

"Well,  go,  go,  go  ! "  said  Rostof,  and  excusing  himself  from 
the  supper,  and  remaining  alone  in  the  little  chamber,  he  paced 
for  a  long  time  up  and  down  and  listened  to  the  lively  French 
conversation  in  the  adjoining  room. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

No  day  could  have  been  more  unfavorable  for  presenting 
Denisof's  petition  to  the  emperor,  than  that  on  which  Rostof 
went  to  Tilsit.  He  himself  could  not  appear  in  the  presence 
of  the  general-in-charge,  for  the  reason  that  he  was  in  civilian's 
dress,  and  had  come  away  without  leave  of  absence,  and  Boris, 
even  if  he  had  had  the  best  will  in  the  world,  could  not  do  this 
on  the  day  that  followed  Rostof's  arrival  at  Tilsit. 

On  that  day,  the  ninth  of  July,  the  preliminary  articles  of 
peace  were  signed ;  the  emperors  exchanged  orders,  Alexander 
received  that  of  the  Legion  of  Honor,  and  Napoleon  that  of 
Saint  Andrew  of  the  first  degree;  and  on  that  same  day  a 
dinner  was  to  be  given  to  the  Preobrazhensky  battalion  by  the 
battalion  of  the  French  Guards.  The  emperors  had  both 
agreed  to  be  present  at  this  banquet. 

Rostof  felt  so  ill  at  ease,  and  so  offended  with  Boris,  that 
when,  after  the  supper  was  over,  Boris  came  back  to  talk  with 
him,  he  pretended  to  be  asleep,  and  on  the  next  day  he  left 
the  house  early  in  the  morning,  taking  especial  pains  not  to 
see  him. 

Nikolai,  in  his  civilian's  hat  and  coat,  wandered  about  the 
city,  gazing  at  the  French  and  their  uniforms,  studying  the 
streets  and  residences  where  the  French  and  Russian  emperors 
were  lodged.  On  the  square,  he  saw  tables  laid  out,  and  men 
making  preparations  for  the  banquet;  along  the  streets,  he 
beheld  draperies  with  the  Russian  and  French  colors  entwined, 
and  the  letters  A.  and  N.  in  monogram.  In  the  windows  of 
the  houses  there  were  also  flags  and  monograms. 

"  Boris  isn't  willing  to  help  me,  and  I  won't  have  anything 
more  to  do  with  him,  that's  a  settled  thing,"  thought  Nikolai. 
"  It's  all  over  between  us ;  but  I  won't  leave  town  until  I  have 
VOL.  2.  — 10. 


146  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

done  the  best  I  could  for  Denisof,  aa:id  at  least  handed  his  peti- 
tion to  the  sovereign.  To  the  sovereign  ?  —  he  is  there ! "  said 
Bostof  to  himself,  involuntarily  attracted  back  to  the  mansion 
occupied  by  Alexander. 

In  front  of  the  door  stood  saddle  horses,  and  the  suite  were 
assembling,  evidently  for  the  purpose  of  escorting  his  majesty 
on  a  ride,  * 

"  At  any  moment,  I  may  see  him,"  said  Bostof  to  himself- 
"If  I  could  only  put  the  letter  straight  into  his  hands !  But 
wouldn't  they  arrest  me,  on  account  of  being  out  of  uniform  ? 
Impossible  !  He  would  understand  on  whose  side  justice  lay. 
He  understands  everything,  he  knows  everything !  Who  could 
be  more  just  and  generous  than  he  ?  Besides,  if  they  were  to 
arrest  me  for  being  here,what  harm  would  it  be  ?  "  he  asked 
himself,  catching  sight  of  an  officer  going  into  the  house  where 
the  emperor  lived.  "  It  seems  people  do  go  in !  Eh  !  it's  all 
nonsense^  I  will  go  and  give  the  petition  to  the  sovereign 
myself, —  sa  much  the  worse  for  Drubetskoi,  who  drives  me 
to  it." 

And  suddenly,  with  a  resolution  which  was  unexpected  even 
to  himself,  Bostof  grasped  the  letter  in  his  pocket,  and  went 
straight  to  the  residence  occupied  by  his  sovereign. 

"  Now,  this  time  I  will  not  miss  my  chance,  as  I  did  at  Aus- 
terlitz,"  he  said  to  himself,  expecting  every  moment  to  meet 
the  emperor,  and  feeling  the  blood  rush  to  his  heart  at  the 
mere  thought.  "  I  will  fall  at  his  feet  and  beseech  him.  He 
will  lift  me,  listen  to  me,  and  even  thank  me.  '  I  am  glad  of 
any  opportunity  of  doing  good,  but  to  right  wrongs  is  my  great- 
est happiness,' "  said  Bostof,  imagining  the  words  which  his 
sovereign  would  say  to  him.  And,  though  he  had  to  run  the 
gauntlet  of  the  inquisitive  glances  fastened  upon  him,  he  went 
up  the  front  steps  of  the  imperial  residence.  From  the  porch, 
a  broad  staircase  led  straight  upstairs.  At  the  right  was  a 
half-open  door.  Below,  at  the  foot  of  the  staircase,  was  still 
another  door,  leading  to  the  ground  floor. 

"  What  do  you  wish  ?  "  asked  some  one. 

"  To  give  a  letter,  a  petition,  to  his  majesty,"  said  Bostof, 
in  a  trembling  voice. 

''  A  petition  ?  It  should  go  to  the  general-in-charge ;  please 
pass  this  way,"  he  indicated  the  door  leading  to  the  ground 
floor.     "  But  he  won't  receive  it." 

On  hearing  this  voice,  so  cold  and  unconcerned,  Bostof  was 
j)anic-8tricken  at  his  audacity ;  the  thought  that  he  might  at  any 
moment  meet  his  majesty  was  so  entrancing,  and,  at  the  same 


WAn  AND  PEACE.  147 

time,  so  terrible  to  him,  that  he  felt  like  running  away,  but 
the  kammer-fourrier,  who  came  to  meet  him,  opened  the  door 
into  the  general's  office,  and  Rostof  went  in. 

A  short,  stout  man,  thirty  years  of  age,  in  white  trousers, 
Hessian  boots,  and  a  batiste  shirt,  apparently  meant  for  sum- 
mer only,  was  standing  in  this  room ;  a  valet  was  behind  him, 
buttoning  a  pair  of  handsome  new  braces,  embroidered  in  silk, 
as  Bostof  could  not  help  noticing.  This  gentleman  was  talk- 
ing with  some  one  in  the  next  room  :  '^  Bienfaite,  et  la  beaute 
du  diable  —  devilishly  well  made,",  this  man  was  just  saying, 
but  when  he  caught  sight  of  Eostof,  he  stopped  and  frowned. 

"  What  is  it  you  want  ?     A  petition  ?  " 

'^  What  is  it  ?  "  asked  the  individual  in  the  next  room. 

"  Another  petitioner,'^  replied  the  man  in  the  braces. 

"  Tell  him  to  come  later.  He's  going  out ;  we've  got  to  go 
with  him." 

"  Come  later,  to-morrow,  to-morrow.    It's  too  late  now." 

Kostof  turned  round  and  was  about  to  go,  when  the  man  in 
the  braces  stopped  him.     "  Who  is  it  from  ?    Who  are  you  ?  " 

"  It's  from  Major  Denisof,"  replied  Rostof. 

"And  who  are  you  ?    An  officer  ?  " 

"  Yes,  a  lieutenant.  Count  Rostof." 

^  What  audacity !  Give  it  to  your  general.  And  begone 
with  you,  begone."  And  he  began  to  put  on  the  rest  of  the 
uniform  handed  to  him  by  his  valet. 

Rostof  went  down  into  the  entry  again,  and  noticed  that  on 
the  steps  there  were  still  many  officers  and  generals  in  full 
parade  uniform,  and  that  he  would  have  to  pass  by  them  aU. 
Cursing  his  audacity,  his  heart  sinking  within  him  at  the 
thought  that  at  any  moment  he  might  meet  the  sovereign,  and  be 
mortified,  and  even  put  under  arrest  in  his  presence,  appreciat- 
ing all  the  impropriety  of  his  conduct,  and  regretting  it,  Rostof, 
with  downcast  eyes,  was  hastening  away  from  the  house,  which 
was  now  surrounded  by  the  glittering  officers  of  the  suite,  when 
a  well-known  voice  called  him  by  name,  and  some  one's  hand 
was  laid  on  his  shoulder. 

"  Well,  bdtyushka,  what  are  you  doing  here  without  a  uni- 
form ?  "  demanded  a  deep  bass  voice. 

This  was  a  general  of  cavalry,  formerly  commander  of  the 
division  in  which  Rostof  served.  During  that  campaign  he 
had  won  the  signal  favor  of  the  sovereign. 

Rostof  was  startled,  and  began  to  justify  himself,  but  when 
he  saw  the  general's  good-natured,  jocose  face,  he  drew  him  to 
one  side,  and  began,  in  a  voice  choked  by  emotion,  to  lay  his 


/ 


/ 
x 


1  IS  War  and  psacb. 

whole  cade  before  him,  and  begged  the  general  to  take  the  part 
of  Denisof,  who  was  well-known  to  him.  The  general  listened 
to  Kostof s  story  and  shook  his  head  gravely.  "Pity,  pity; 
he's  a  brave  fellow  ;  give  me  his  letter." 

Eostof  had  only  just  handed  him  the  petition  and  finished 
telling  the  whole  story,  when  quick  steps  and  a  jingling  of 
spurs  was  heard,  on  the  staircase,  and  the  general,  leaving  him, 
hurried  to  the  steps.  The  gentlemen  composing  the  sovereign's 
suite  hastened  down  from  the  staircase  and  went  to  their  horses. 
The  equerry,  Hayne,  the  same  one  who  had  accompanied  the 
sovereign  at  the  battle  of  Austerlitz,  brought  up  the  emperor's 
steed,  and  then  on  the  staircase  was  heard  the  slight  squeak  of 
steps,  which  Eostof  instantly  knew.  Forgetting  his  apprehen- 
sion of  being  recognized,  Eostof  went  close  to  the  doorsteps, 
with  many  other  curious  spectators,  from  among  the  natives, 
and  again,  though  two  years  had  passed,  he  recognized  those 
adored  features,  the  same  face,  the  same  glance,  the  same  gait, 
the  same  union  of  majesty  and  sweetness.  And  that  feeling 
of  enthusiasm  and  love  for  his  sovereign  rose  in  Eostof  s  soul 
with  all  its  former  force. 

The  emperor  wore  the  Preobrazhensky  uniform,  white  chsr 
mois  leather  breeches,  Hessian  boots,  with  the  star  of  an  order 
which  Eostof  did  not  know.  It  was  the  Legion  d^Honneur.  As 
he  came  out  on  the  steps,  he  held  his  hat  under  his  arm  and 
was  putting  on  his  gloves.  He  paused,  glanced  around,  and  his 
glance  seemed  to  light  up  all  about  him.  He  said  a  few  words 
to  one  of  the  generals.  He  also  recognized  the  general  who 
had  been  formerly  commander  of  Eostof  s  division,  gave  him  a 
smile  and  beckoned  to  him. 

All  the  suite  moved  away  from  them,  and  Eostof  noticed  that 
this  general  held  a  rather  long  conversation  with  the  sovereign. 

The  emperor  said  a  few  words  in  reply,  and  took  a  step 
toward  his  horse.  Again  the  crowd  of  the  suite  and  the  crowd 
of  spectators,  with  Eostof  in  their  number,  followed  after  the 
emperor.  Standing  by  his  steed,  with  his  arm  thrown  over 
the  saddle,  the  sovereign  turned  to  the  cavalry  general,  and 
said  in  a  loud  voice,  evidently  intending  that  he  should  be 
heard  by  all, — 

"  I  cannot,  general,  and  I  cannot  because  the  law  is  more 
powerful  than  I,"  said  the  emperor,  and  he  put  his  foot  in  the 
stirrup.  The  general  respectfully  inclined  his  head ;  the  em- 
peror got  into  the  saddle  and  rode  at  a  gallop  down  the  street. 
Eostof,  forgetting  himself  in  his  enthusiasm,  joined  the  crowd 
and  ran  after  him. 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  149 


CHAPTEE  XXI. 

On  the  square  where  the  emperor  was  going,  the  battalion 
of  the  Preobrazhentsui  stood  facing  the  street  on  the  right ; 
on  the  left,  stood  the  battalion  of  the  French  Guards,  in  their 
bearskin  caps. 

Just  as  the  sovereign  rode  up  toward  one  flank  of  the  bat- 
talion, which  presented  arms,  another  throng  of  mounted  men 
galloped  up  to  the  other  flank,  and  Rostof  recognized  Napoleon 
at  their  head.  It  could  have  been  no  one  else.  He  rode  at  a 
gallop,  wearing  his  cocked  hat,  with  the  ribbon  of  Saint  An- 
drew across  his  breast,  with  his  blue  coat  unbuttoned  over  his 
white  waistcoat.  Riding  up  to  Alexander  on  his  Arabian 
steed,  gray,  of  extraordinarily  good  blood,  with  crimson  hous- 
ings embroidered  in  gold,  he  took  off  his  hat,  and,  at  this 
motion,  Rostof,  as  a  trained  cavalryman,  could  not  help 
noticing  that  Napoleon  sat  awkwardly  and  unsteadily  on  his 
horse.  The  battalions  shouted  ^^  Hurrah  "  and  '^  Vive  Vewr 
pereuT.^^  Napoleon  said  something  to  Alexander.  Then  the 
two  emperors  dismounted  and  shook  hands.  Napoleon's  face 
wore  a  disagreeably  artificial  smile.  Alexander,  with  a  cour- 
teous expression,  made  some  remark  to  him. 

Rostof,  notwithstanding  the  trampling  of  the  horses  of  the 
mounted  gendarmes  constantly  backing  into  the  throng,  fol- 
lowed every  motion  of  the  two  emperors,  not  taking  his  eyes 
from  them.  It  struck  him  as  most  extraordinary  that  Alex- 
ander treated  Napoleon  as  an  equal,  and  that  Bonaparte  bore 
himself  toward  the  Russian  tsar  also  as  an  equal,  as  though 
this  proximity  to  the  sovereign  were  perfectly  natural  and 
usual  with  him. 

Alexander  and  Napoleon,  with  a  long  train  following  them, 
passed  along  toward  the  right  wing  of  the  Preobrazhensky  bat- 
talion, straight  toward  the  throng  that  had  collected  there. 
By  some  chance,  the  throng  was  allowed  to  press  so  near  the 
emperors,  that  Rostof,  who  found  himself  in  the  very  front 
row,  felt  anxious  lest  he  should  be  recognized. 

"  Sire,  I  crave  permission  to  grant  the  Legion  of  Honor  to 
the  bravest  of  your  soldiers,"  said  a  shrill,  precise  voice, 
dwelling  on  every  syllable.  These  words  were  spoken  by  the 
diminutive  Bonaparte,  looking  straight  up  into  Alexander's 
eyes.  Alexander  listened  attentively  to  what  he  said,  and  in- 
clined his  head  with  a  pleasant  smile. 


160  ^AR  AND  PEACE. 

^'  To  the  one  who  conducted  himself  most  gallantly  during 
this  last  war/'  *  added  Napoleon,  laying  equal  stress  on  each 
syllable,  with  an  unconcern  and  self-confidence  that  aroused 
Eostof  s  indignation.  At  the  same  time,  Napoleon  glanced 
round  on  the  ranks  of  Russian  soldiery  drawn  up  before  him, 
and  still  presenting  arms  and  immovably  looking  into  their 
sovereign's  face. 

"  Will  your  majesty  permit  me  to  consult  with  the  colonel  ?  "  t 
asked  Alexander,  and  he  made  a  few  hasty  steps  toward  Prince 
Kozlovsky,  the  commander  of  the  battalion.  Bonaparte  began 
meantime  to  be  drawing  his  glove  from  his  small,  white  hand, 
and  when  it  tore,  he  threw  it  away.  An  aid,  hastening  for> 
ward,  picked  it  up. 

"  To  whom  shall  it  be  given  ?  "  asked  the  Emperor  Alex- 
ander, in  a^low  tone,  in  Eussian,  of  Kozlovsky. 

"  Whom  would  you  designate,  your  majesty  ?  '* 

The  sovereign  frowned  with  annoyance,  and  glancing  round 
said, — 

"  Yes,  but  I  must  give  him  an  answer." 

Kozlovsky,  with  a  resolute  look,  glanced  along  the  rankb, 
and  his  eyes  rested  on  Eostof. 

"  He  couldn't  by  any  possibility  choose  me  ?  "  said  Eostof 
to  himself. 

'^  Lazaref,"  commanded  the  colonel,  knitting  his  brows,  and 
the  first  man  in  the  front  rank  briskly  stepped  forward  This 
was  Lazaref. 

"  Where  are  you  going  ?  Stand  there  ! "  whispered  yarious 
voices  to  Lazaref,  who  did  not  know  where  to  go.  He  stood 
in  trepidation,  looking  askance  at  his  colonel,  and  his  face 
twitched,  as  is  generally  the  case  with  soldiers  summoned  to 
the  front.  Napoleon  bent  his  head  back  a  little,  and  stretched 
his  small,  plump  hand  behind  him,  as  though  wishing  some> 
thing  to  be  handed  him.  The  faces  of  his  suite,  who  at  that 
instant  surmised  what  was  going  to  take  place,  showed  some 
perplexity ;  there  was  whispering,  some  object  was  handed 
from  one  to  another,  and  a  page,  the  very  one  whom  Eostof 
had  seen  at  Boris's  the  evening  before,  sprang  forward,  and  re- 
spectfully bowing  over  the  outstretched  hand,  and  not  causing 
it  to  remain  a  single  instant,  placed  in  it  an  order,  on  a  red 
ribbon. 

*  SirCtjevfyusdemande  Ic  permission  de  donner  la  TjSgion  d'Honneurauphu 
brave  de  vos  soldats-  A  celui  qui  s*€8t  le  pltis  vaillament  conduit  dans  celte 
demiere  guerre. 

t  *'  Voire  m^jesU  me  permettra-t-elle  de  demander  Vavis  du  coUmelf** 


WAR  AND  PEACe.  161 

Napoleon,  not  looking  at  it,  closed  two  fingers,  and  re- 
tained the  badge  between  them.  Then  he  went  up  to  Laza- 
ref,  who,  with  staring  eyes,  continued  to  gaze  steadfastly  at 
his  sovereign  and  no  one  else.  Napoleon  looked  at  the  Em- 
peror Alexander,  signifying  by  this  that  what  he  was  doing 
now,  he  did  out  of  consideration  for  his  ally.  The  little  white 
hand  with  the  badge  touched  the  button  of  the  soldier  Laza- 
ref.  Napoleon  seemed  to  realize  that  all  that  was  necessary 
to  make  this  soldier  forever  fortunate,  decorated,  and  distin- 
guished above  every  one  else  in  the  world,  was  for  this  white 
hand  of  his  merely  to  touch  this  soldier^s  breast !  Napoleon 
simply  suspended  the  cross  on  the  soldier's  chest,  and,  drop- 
ping his  hand,  returned  to  where  Alexander  was  standing,  as 
though  he  knew  that  the  cross  must  needs  stick  to  the  man's 
breast.     And  that  the  cross  really  did  ! 

Officious  Russian  and  French  hands  instantly  seized  the 
ero68  and  fastened  it  to  the  man's  uniform.  Lazaref  had  gazed 
moodily  at  the  little  man  with  white  hands  who  had  been  do- 
ing something  to  him,  and  he  continued  to  present  arms,  with 
his  eyes  again  directed  straight  at  Alexander's  face,  as  though 
he  were  asking  his  sovereign  whether  it  were  his  duty  still  to 
stand  there,  or  whether  he  should  go  back,  or  whether  there 
was  anything  else  for  him  to  do.  But  as  no  orders  were  given 
him,  he  stood  in  exactly  the  same  motionless  attitude  for  some 
time. 

The  sovereigns  mounted  and  rode  away.  The  Preobra- 
ilientsui,  breaking  ranks,  began  to  mingle  with  the  French 
Guardsmen,  and  took  their  seats  at  the  tables  which  had  been 
prepared  for  them. 

Lazaref  was  assigned  to  the  seat  of  honor.  Bussian  and 
French  officers  pressed  around  him,  congratulated  him,  and 
shook  hands  witn  him.  A  throng  of  officers  and  the  public 
crowded  around,  merely  to  get  a  sight  of  the  man.  The  hum 
of  conversation  in  French  and  Russian,  and  bursts  of  hearty 
laughter  began  to  be  heard  around  the  table  erected  in  the 
square. 

Two  officers,  with  flushed  faces,  feeling  gay  and  happy, 
passed  by  Rostof.  "  What  a  treat,  brother !  All  served  on  sil- 
ver ! "  said  one.     "  Did  you  see  Lazaref  ?  " 

"Idid!" 

"  To-morrow,  they  say,  the  Preobrazhentsui  are  going  tagive 
them  a  dinner." 

"  Is  that  so  ?  What  luck  for  Lazaref !  twelve  hundred  francs 
pension  for  life  ! '' 


162  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

"  How's  that  for  a  cap,  children  ! "  cried  a  Preobrazhenets, 
putting  on  a  Frenchman's  shaggy  bearskin. 

"  Marvellously  fine  ;  very  becoming ! " 

''  Have  you  heard  the  countersign  ?  "  asked  one  Guardfiman 
of  another.  "  Day  before  yesterday,  it  was  *  Napoleofiy  France, 
bravQure  I '  yesterday, '  Alexandre,  Russie,  grandeur ' ;  one  day 
our  sovereign  gives  the  watchword ;  and  the  next,  Napoleon. 
To-morrow  the  sovereign  is  going  to  confer  the  Geoi^  on  the 
bravest  of  the  Guards.  He  can't  help  it.  He's  got  to  keep 
up  his  end ! " 

Boris  and  his  friend,  Zhilinsky,  also  came  out  to  witness 
the  banquet  to  the  Preobrazhentsui.  As  they  returned,  Boris 
noticed  Rostof  standing  near  the  comer  of  a  house. 

''Hollo,  Rostof!  Good  morning;  we  missed  each  other/' 
said  he,  and  he  could  not  refrain  from  asking  what  had  hap- 
pened  to  him,  so  strangely  dark  and  disturbed  was  RostoPs 
face. 

"  Nothing,  nothing,"  replied  Rostof. 

"  Will  you  join  us  ?  " 

"  Yes,  by  and  by." 

Rostof  stood  for  a  long  time  by  the  house  comer,  gazing  at 
the  f casters.  His  mind  was  filled  with  painful  reflections 
which  he  could  never  bring  to  a  satisfactory  conclusion. 
Strange  doubts  had  risen  in  his  mind.  Now  he  recalled  Deni- 
sof  and  the  change  that  had  come  over  him,  and  his  obstinacy, 
and  the  whole  hospital,  with  those  amputated  legs  and  arms, 
with  all  that  filth  and  disease.  It  came  up  so  vividly  in  his 
imagination,  at  that  instant,  he  had  such  a  lively  sense  of  that 
fetid  odor  of  putrefaction,  and  that  dead  body,  that  he  glanced 
around  to  see  what  might  be  the  cause  of  it.  Then,  in  con- 
trast, he  recalled  that  self-conceited  Bonaparte,  with  his  little, 
white  hand :  he  was  emperor  now,  the  loved  and  valued  friend 
of  the  Emperor  Alexander !  For  what  purpose,  then,  all  those 
amputated  legs  and  arms,  and  those  men  killed  ?  Then  he  re- 
membered Lazaref  rewarded  and  Denisof  punished  and  unfor- 
given.  He  found  himself  indulging  in  such  strange  thoughts 
that  he  was  frightened. 

The  savor  of  the  viands  and  the  pangs  of  hunger  drove  him 
out  of  this  mood ;  he  had  to  get  something  to  eat  before  going 
back.  He  went  into  an  inn  which  he  had  seen  that  morning. 
He  found  so  many  people  there,  and  so  many  oflUcers,  who,  like 
himself,  had  come  in  citizen's  dress,  that  he  had  difficulty  in 
getting  dinner. 

Two  officers  of  the  same  division  as  his  own  joined  him. 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  16S 

The  conyersation  naturally  turned  on  the  peace.  These  offi- 
cers, RostoFs  friends,  like  the  majority  of  the  army,  were 
dissatisfied  with  the  peace  which  had  been  concluded  after 
Friedland.  They  maintained  that  if  only  they  had  held  out  a 
little  longer,  Napoleon  would  have  laid  down  his  arms,  that  he 
had  no  supplies  or  ammunition  for  his  troops. 

Nikolai  ate  in  silence,  and  drank  more  than  he  ate.  He 
alone  drank  two  bottles  of  wine.  The  inner  conflict  which 
had  risen  in  his  soul,  instead  of  finding  solution,  tormented 
him  more  than  ever.  He  was  afraid  to  express  his  thoughts, 
and  be  could  not  get  rid  of  them.  Suddenly,  at  the  remark 
of  one  of  the  officers  that  it  was  a  humiliation  to  look  at  the 
French,  Rostof  began  to  declaim  with  a  heat  and  violence 
wholly  uncalled  for,  and  therefore  very  amazing  to  the  officers. 

"  Aid  how,  pray,  can  you  decide  what  would  have  been 
best  ?  "  he  shouted,  his  face  flushing  suddenly  crimson.  "  Why 
do  you  judge  the  sovereign's  actions  ?  What  right  have  we 
to  sit  in  judgment  on  him  ?  We  cannot  appreciate  or  under- 
stand the  sovereign's  actions  ! " 

"  But  I  haven't  said  a  word  about  the  sovereign/'  replied  the 
officer,  who  could  not  explain  Rostof 's  violence  on  any  other 
ground  than  that  he  was  drunk.  But  Rostof  did  not  heed 
him.  * 

"We  are  not  diplomatic  chinovniks,  we  are  soldiers  and 
nothing  else,"  he  went  on  to  say.  "  We  are  commanded  to 
die,  and  we  die.  And  if  we  are  punished,  then  of  course  we 
must  be  to  blame  ;  it  isn't  for  us  to  criticise.  It  is  sufficient 
for  our  sovereign,  the  emperor,  to  recognize  Bonaparte  as  em- 
peror, and  to  conclude  peace  with  him ;  then,  of  course,  it  must 
be  so.  For  if  we  once  begin  to  criticise  and  sit  in  judgment, 
then  there  will  be  nothing  sacred  left.  We  shall  be  declaring 
that  there  is  no  God,  no  nothing ! "  screamed  Nikolai,  pound- 
ing the  table  with  his  fist  with  quite  unnecessary  vehemence, 
as  his  friends  felt ;  in  reality  it  was  demanded  by  his  feelings. 
"  It's  our  business  to  fulfil  our  duty,  to  fight,  and  not  to  think, 
and  that's  the  end  of  it,"  he  said  in  conclusion. 

"  And  drink,"  said  one  of  the  officers,  wishing  to  avoid  a 
quarrel. 

"  Yes,  and  drink,"  replied  Nikolai.  "  Hey  I  there !  another 
bottle ! "  he  cried. 


PART   THIRD, 
CHAPTER  I. 

In  the  year  1808  the  emperor  went  to  Erfurt  for  another 
interview  with  the  Emperor  Napoleon,  and  in  the  upper  circles 
of  Petersburg  much  was  said  about  the  magnificence  of  this 
solemn  meeting. 

In  1809  the  intimacy  between  these  two  "  arbiters  of  the 
world,"  as  Napoleon  and  Alexander  were  called,  reached  such 
a  point  that  when  Napoleon  that  year  declared  war  against 
Austria,  the  Russian  troops  crossed  the  frontier  to  support  their 
former  enemy,  Bonaparte,  against  their  former  ally,  the  Em- 
peror of  Austria ;  and  there  was  also  talk  in  high  life  of  a  pos- 
sible marriage  between  Napoleon  and  one  of  the  Emperor 
Alexander's  sisters. 

Theii,  besides  these  external  political  combinations,  the  at- 
tention of  Russian  society  was  at  this  time  occupied  with 
especial  interest  with  the  internal  reforms  which  were  inaug- 
urating in  all  parts  of  the  imperial  dominion. 

In  the  mean  time,  life — the  ordinary  life  of  men — was 
busied  with  its  own  concerns  of  health  and  illness,  labor  and  rec- 
reation, with  its  interest  in  philosophy,  science,  poetry,  music, 
love,  friendship,  hatreds,  sufferings,  and  went  on  as  always, 
independent  and  outside  of  political  alliance  or  enmity  with 
Napoleon  Bonaparte,  and  outside  of  all  potential  reforms. 

Prince  Andrei  had  spent  two  years  of  continuous  life  in  the 
country.  All  those  enterprises  on  his  estates,  such  as  Pierre 
had  devised  on  his,  and  which  the  latter  had  brought  to  no  re- 
sult, constantly  changing  as  he  did  from  one  plan  to  another, -y 
all  these  projects  had  been  accomplished  by  Prince  Andrei 
without  any  display,  and  without  noticeable  exertion. 

He  had  to  a  marked  degree  that  practical  tenacity  of  pur- 
pose which  Pierre  lacked,  and  w^hich  gave  impetus  to  any  en- 
terprise, without  oscillation  or  undue  effort  on  his  own  part 

On  one  of  his  estates,  the  three  hundred  serfs  were  enrolled 
as  free  farmers ;  this  was  one  of  the  fii*st  instances  of  the  sort : 

164 


WAR  AND  PEACE,  166 

OD  others,  the  forced  husbandry  service  was  commuted  for 
obrokj  or  quit-rent.  At  Bogucharovo,  a  babka^  or  midwife,  was 
engaged  at  his  expense  to  help  in  cases  of  childbirth,  and  a 
priest  was  employed  at  a  salary  to  teach  the  children  of  the 
peasants  and  household  servants.  Half  of  his  time,  Prince 
Andrei  spent  at  Luisiya  Gomi  with  his  father  and  son,  who 
was  still  in  the  care  of  nurses  :  the  other  half  he  spent  at  his 
"Bogucharovsky  monastery,"  as  his  father  called  his  estate. 

Notwithstanding  the  indifference  which  he  had  affected  in 
Pierre's  presence  to  all  the  outside  events  of  the  world,  he 
eagerly  followed  them :  he  read  many  books,  and  was  often 
amazed  to  remark  when  men  came  fresh  from  Petersburg,  from 
the  very  vortex  of  life,  to  visit  his  father  or  himself,  that, 
though  iie  had  not  once  left  the  country,  these  men  were  far 
behind  him  in  their  knowledge  of  what  was  going  on  in  pol- 
itics at  home  a  id  abroad.  In  addition  to  his  projects  on  his 
estates,  and  his  general  occupations  in  reading  the  most 
varied  books.  Prince  Andrei  spent  his  spare  time  in  compos- 
ing a  critical  account  of  our  last  two  unfortunate  campaigns, 
and  a  project  for  a  change  in  our  military  code  and  establish- 
ment. 

In  the  spring  of  1809  Prince  Andrei  went  to  the  neigh- 
borhood of  Riazan,  where  his  son,  whose  guardian  he  was,  had 
estates. 

As  he  sat  in  his  calash,  he  enjoyed  the  warmth  of  the  spring 
sun,  and  looked  at  the  young  grass,  the  first  foliage  of  the 
birches,  and  the  first  curling  clouds  of  the  spring  flying  over 
the  clear  blue  sky.  He  simply  did  not  think,  but  gazed  on 
all  sides,  full  of  joy,  and  free  from  care. 

He  came  to  the  ferry  where  he  and  Pierre  had  talked  together 
the  year  before.  He  came  to  a  filthy  village,  barns,  a  vege- 
table garden,  a  slope  with  the  remains  of  a  snowdrift  by  the 
bridge,  a  hillside  where  the  clay  was  hollowed  into  runnels, 
strips  of  stubble-field  and  of  shrubbery  where  the  catkins 
were  beginning  to  show,  and  finally  reached  a  birch  forest  that 
extended  along  both  sides  of  the  road.  It  was  almost  sultry 
in  the  woods ;  there  was  not  a  breath  of  wind ;  the  birches, 
all  covered  with  young,  green,  sticky  leafage,  did  not  even 
rustle.  Out  from  under  the  last  year's  leaves,  lifting  them 
up,  came  the  first  green  bracken  and  the  violets.  Scattered 
here  and  there  among  the  birches,  small  evergreens,  with 
their  sombre  hues,  unpleasantly  reminded  one  of  winter.  The 
horses  snorted  as  they  entered  the  woods,  and  their  coats  were 
streaked  with  sweat. 


156  WAR  AND  PEACE,^ 

The  footman,  Piotr,  said  something  to  the  coachman :  the 
coachman  replied  in  the  affirmative.  But  it  was  evident  that 
Piotr  got  very  little  sympathy  from  the  coachman  ;  he  turned 
round  on  the  box  toward  his  barin :  — 

"  Your  illustriousness,  how  nice  it  is  ! "  said  he,  with  a  def- 
erential smile. 

"  What  ?  " 

"  Nice,  your  illustriousness  !  '* 

"  What  was  that  he  said  ?  "  wondered  Prince  Andrei.  *'  Oh, 
yes !  probably  about  the  spring,"  he  communed  to  himself, 
glancing  all  around.  "  And  how  green  everything  is  already  ! 
so  early !  The  birches  and  the  wild-cherries  and  the  alders 
are  already  out.  But  I  don't  see  any  oaks.  Oh,  yes,  there's 
one,  there's  an  oak !  " 

By  the  roadside  stood  an  oak.  It  was  evidently  t-en  times 
as  old  as  the  birches  of  which  the  forest  was  mainly  composed : 
it  was  ten  times  as  large  round  and  twice  as  high  as  any  of 
the  birches.  It  was  enormous,  two  spans  around  in  girth,  and 
with  ancient  scars  where  huge  limbs,  evidently  long  ago  lopped 
off,  had  been,  and  with  bark  stripped  away.  With  monstrous, 
disproportioned,  unsymmetrically  spreading,  gnarled  arms  and 
branches,  it  stood  like  an  ancient  giant,  stem  and  scornful, 
among  the  smiling  birches.  Only  this  oak  and  the  slender 
evergreens  scattered  through  the  woods,  with  their  hue  sym- 
bolical of  death,  seemed  unwilling  to  yield  to  the  fascination 
of  the  spring,  and  to  spurn  the  sun  and  the  spring. 

"  The  spring  and  love  and  happiness  !  "  this  oak  seemed  to 
say.  "  And  how  can  it  be  that  ye  still  like  to  cheat  yourselves 
with  that  stupid  and  senseless  delusion  ?  It's  forever  the  same 
old  story,  and  a  mere  delusion.  There  is  no  spring,  no  sun, 
no  happiness.  Look  here  at  these  mournful,  lifeless  evergreens, 
always  unchanged ;  and  here  I,  too,  spread  out  my  mutilated, 
excoriated  branches,  from  my  back  and  my  sides,  where  they 
grew,  just  as  they  grew ;  and  here  I  stand,  and  I  have  no  faith 
in  your  hopes  and  illusions ! " 

Prince  Andrei  looked  back  several  times  at  this  oak,  as*  he 
rode  along  the  forest,  as  though  it  had  some  message  to  teach 
him.  The  flowers  and  grass  were  under  the  oak ;  but  it  stood 
among  them  as  before,  frowning  and  immovable,  monstrous  and 
inexorable. 

"  Yes,  that  oak  is  right,  he  is  a  thousand  times  right,'*  said 
Prince  Andrei  to  himself.  "  Let  others,  younger  men,  once 
more  hug  this  delusion ;  but  we  know  what  life  is  j  our  life  is 
done," 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  157 

A  whole  new  series  of  pessimistic  ideas,  agreeable  from  their 
very  melancholy,  arose  in  Prince  Andrei's  mind,  suggested  by 
the  sight  of  the  old  oak.  During  all  the  rest  of  his  journey 
he  seemed  once  more  to  live  his  life  over  in  thought,  and  he 
came  back  to  his  former  comforting  and  at  the  same  time  hope- 
less conclusion  that  there  was  nothing  more  for  him  to  under- 
take, that  he  must  live  out  his  life,  refrain  from  working  evil, 
and  not  worry,  and  not  expect  anything. 


CHAPTER  II. 

Prikcb  Andbei  was  compelled  by  his  obligations  as  trustee 
of  the  Biazan  property  to  call  upon  the  district  predvodityel, 
or  marshal  of  the  nobility.  The  predvodityel  was  Count  Ilya 
Andreyitch  Rostof :  about  the  middle  of  May,  Prince  Andrei 
went  to  see  him. 

By  this  time  the  weather  had  become  very  warm.  The 
woods  were  now  in  full  leaf,  the  dust  was  intolerable,  and  it 
was  so  hot  that,  as  he  drove  by  water,  he  had  a  powerful  desire 
to  take  a  bath. 

Prince  Andrei,  in  anything  but  a  happy  frame  of  mind,  and 
absorbed  in  thinking  oi  the  business  which  he  had  to  transact 
with  the  predvodityel,  drove  into  the  tree-shaded  avenue  that 
led  up  to  the  mansion  of  the  Rostofs  at  Otradnoye.  At  his  right, 
he  heard  behind  the  trees  the  gay  sounds  of  women's  voices, 
and  saw  a  bevy  of  young  girls  running  down  as  if  to  cut  off  his 
calash.  In  front  of  the  others,  and  therefore  nearest  to  him, 
ran  a  very  slender,  indeed  a  strangely  slender,  maiden,  with 
dark  hair  and  dark  eyes,  in  a  yellow  chintz  dress,  with  a  white 
handkerchief  around  her  head,  the  locks  escaping  from  it  in 
ringlets.  This  maiden  shouted  something  as  she  approached 
the  calash ;  then  seeing  that  it  was  a  stranger,  she  ran  back 
again  with  a  merry  laugh,  and  not  looking  at  him. 

Something  akin  to  pain  affected  Prince  Andrei  at  this  inci- 
dent. The  day  was  so  beautiful,  the  sun  so  bright,  everything 
all  around  was  so  beautiful !  But  this  slender,  pretty  young 
girl  knew  not,  and  had  no  wish  to  know  aught,  of  him,  and 
was  content  and  happy  in  her  separate,  most  likely  stupid,  but 
still  gay  and  careless,  existence.  What  was  there  for  her  to  be 
merry  about  ?  What  were  her  thoughts  ?  Certainly  not  about 
the  military  code,  or  about  Riazan  quit-rents !  Wliat,  then, 
was  she  thinking  about  ?  And  why  was  slie  happy  ?  Such 
questions  involuntarily  arose  in  Prince  Andrei's  mind. 


158  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

Count  Ilya  Andreyitch  was  spending  the  summer  of  1809 
at  Otradnoye  in  the  same  way  as  he  had  always  done ;  that  is, 
entertaining  almost  the  whole  Government  with  hunting 
parties,  theatrical s,  dinners,  and  music.  He  welcomed  Prince 
Andrei  most  hospitably,  as  he  did  every  new  guest,  and  almost 
by  main  force  compelled  him  to  stay  for  the  night. 

During  the  course  of  the  wearisome  day,  monopolized  by  his 
elderly  hosts,  and  the  most  distinguished  of  the  guests,  who 
happened  to  be  present  in  large  numbers  on  account  of  the 
old  count's  approaching  ye^e  days,  Bolkonsky  many  times  was 
attracted  to  Natasha,  who  was  among  the  merriest  and  most 
entertaining  of  the  younger  portion  of  the  household,  and  kept 
asking  himself,  ^^  What  can  she  be  thinking  about  ?  Why  is 
she  so  gay  ?  " 

At  last,  finding  himself  alone  that  night,  in  a  new  place,  it 
was  long  before  he  could  go  to  sleep.  He  read  for  a  time, 
then  put  out  his  candle,  then  lighted  it  again.  It  was  hot  in/ 
the  room  with  the  shutters  closed  from  within.  He  was  an* 
noyed  at  ^^  that  stupid  old  man,"  as  he  called  Bostof,  for  hav- 
ing detained  him  by  the  excuse  that  the  necessary  papers  had 
not  yet  come  from  the  city ;  and  he  was  vexed  with  himself 
for  having  staid. 

Prince  Andrei  got  up  and  went  to  the  window  to  open  it 
As  soon  as  he  threw  back  the  shutters,  the  moonlight,  as 
though  it  had  been  on  the  watch  at  the  window  and  long  wait- 
ing the  opportunity,  came  pouring  into  the  room.  He  opened 
the  window.  The  night  was  cool  and  calmly  beautiful.  In 
front  of  the  window  .was  a  row  of  clipped  trees,  dark  on  one 
side  and  silver-bright  on  the  other.  At  the  foot  of  the  trees 
was  some  sort  of  succulent,  rank  vegetation,  the  leaves  and 
stalks  covered  with  silvery  dew.  Farther  away,  beyond  the 
trees,  was  a  roof  glittering  with  dew ;  farther  to  the  rip^ht,  a 
tall  tree,  with  wide-spreading  branches,  showed  a  brilliant 
white  bole  and  limbs ;  and  directly  above  it  the  moon,  almost 
at  her  full,  shone  in  the  bright,  almost  starless,  spring  night. 
Prince  Andrei  leaned  his  elbows  on  the  window-sill,  and  fixed 
his  eyes  on  that  sky. 

Prince  Andrei's  room  was  on  the  second  floor:  the  rooms 
overhead  were  also  occupied,  and  by  people  who  were  not 
asleep.     He  overheard  women's  voices  above  him. 

"  Only  just  once  more,"  said  a  voice  which  Prince  Andrei 
instantly  recognized. 

'^  But  when  are  you  going  to  sleep  ? "  replied  a  second 
voice. 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  159 

'*  I  will  not,  can  not  sleep ;  how  can  I  help  it  ?  Come  !  this 
is  the  last  time.'' 

The  two  female  voices  broke  out  into  a  snatch  of  song,  form- 
ing the  £nal  phrase  of  a  duet. 

**  Akh  !  how  charming !  Now,  then^  let's  go  to  sleep ;  that's 
the  end  of  it." 

"  You  go  to  sleep,  but  I  can't,"  replied  the  first  voice,  ap- 
proaching the  window.  She  evidently  thrust  her  head  quite 
out  of  the  window,  because  the  rustling  of  her  dress  was  heard, 
and  even  her  breathing.  All  was  calm  and  stone-still,  —  the 
moon  and  her  light,  and  the  shadows.  Prince  Andrei  feared 
to  stir,  lest  he  should  betray  his  involuntary  presence. 

"  Sonja  I  Sonya ! "  again  spoke  the  first  voice.  "  Now,  how 
can  you  go  to  sleep !  Just  see  how  lovely  it  is !  Akh !  how 
lovely  !  Gome,  wake  up,  Sonya ! "  said  she  again,  with  tears 
in  her  voice.  "  Come,  now,  such  a  lovely,  lovely  night  was 
never  seen ! " 

Sonya  made  some  answer  expressive  of  her  disapproval. 

"  No,  but  do  look !  what  a  moon  !  Akh !  how  lovely  !  Do 
come  here  !  Sweetheart !  darling,*  come  here  !  There,  now, 
do  you  see  ?  If  you  would  only  squat  down  this  way,  and  rest 
yourself  on  your  knees  —  a  little  closer  —  we  must  squeeze  to- 
gether more  —  there,  if  one  tried,  one  might  fly  away !  Yes, 
that's  the  way  !  " 

«  Look  out !  you'll  fall ! " 

A  little  scuffle  was  heard,  and  then  Sonya's  discontented 
voice  saying,  — 

«  See !  it's  two  o'clock  ! " 

"  Akh !  you  only  spoil  it  all  for  me !  now  go  away,  go 
away ! " 

Again  aH  became  still,  but  Prince  Andrei  knew  that  she  was 
still  there :  he  could  hear  from  time  to  time  a  little  rustling, 
from  time  to  time  her  sighs. 

"  Akh  !  dear  me !  dear  me  !  it  is  too  bad  I  To  bed,  then,  if 
I  must ! "  and  the  window  was  closed. 

"  And  my  existence  is  nothing  to  her ! "  thought  Prince 
Andrei,  while  he  was  listening  to  their  talk,  somehow  or  other 
hoping  and  fearing  that  she  would  say  something  about  him. 
"  It's  the  same  old  story  !  And  done  on  purpose  !  "  he  thought. 
And  suddenly  there  arose  in  his  soul  such  an  unexpected  throng 
of  youthful  thoughts  and  hopes,  opposed  to  the  whole  current 
of  his  life,  that  he  felt  himself  too  weak  to  analyze  his  condi- 
tion, and  so  he  went  to  sleep  immediately. 

*  **  DiUhenfcaf  yolubuMhka.** 


160  WAR  AND  PEACE. 


CHAPTER  III. 

The  next  day,  taking  leave  only  of  the  count,  and  not  wait- 
ing for  the  ladies  to  come  down,  Prince  Andrei  went  home. 

It  was  already  the  first  of  June,  and  on  his  way  home,  Prince 
Andrei  once  more  drove  through  the  birch  wood,  where  the 
gnarled  old  oak  had  so  strangely  and  memorably  attracted 
his  attention.  The  little  bells  on  the  horses  sounded  with 
still  less  resonance  now  through  the  forest  than  they  did  the 
fortnight  before ;  all  the  spaces  were  full  of  thick  leaves  and 
shrubbery ;  and  the  young  fir-trees  scattered  through  the  woods 
were  no  longer  an  exception  to  the  general  beauty,  and  but 
partook  of  the  universal  characteristics  of  the  season,  and 
showed  a  soft  green  at  the  ends  of  their  succulent  young 
sprays. 

The  whole  day  had  been  hot :  now  and  again  there  had  been 
threats  of  thunder-showers,  but  only  handfuls  of  clouds  had 
scattered  a  few  drops  over  the  dusty  highway  and  the  sunny 
leaves.  The  forest  on  the  left  was  dark,  in  shadow :  that  on 
the  right,  with  branches  glistening  with  diamond  drops  and 
gently  swaying  in  the  breeze,  was  full  of  sunlight.  Every- 
thing was  covered  with  flowers :  the  nightingales  broke  out  in 
gushing  melody,  and  answered  each  other  from  far  and  near. 

"  Yes,  it  was  in  this  forest  here,  that  the  old  oak  stood  whose 
mood  seemed  to  agree  with  mine,"  said  Prince  Andrei  to  him- 
self. "  Yes  !  there  he  is,"  he  thought,  as  he  looked  along  at 
the  left,  and  found  himself,  without  knowing  or  realizing  it, 
admiring  the  old  oak  of  which  he  was  in  search.  The  old  oak, 
as  though  transfigured,  spread  out  a  mighty  tabernacle  of  dark, 
sunny  green,  and  seemed  to  swoon  and  sway  in  the  rays  of  the 
afternoon  sun.  Nothing  could  be  seen  of  the  gnarled  branches, 
or  of  the  scars,  or  of  the  old  unbelief  and  grief.  Through 
the  rough,  century-old  bark  had  pierced  the  smooth,  succulent 
young  foliage:  it  was  incredible  that  this  patriarch  should 
have  produced  them. 

"  Yes,  this  is  the  very  same  oak,"  said  Prince  Andrei  to 
himself ;  and  suddenly  there  came  over  him  an  unreasonable, 
but  joyous,  feeling  of  delight  and  renovation.  All  the  most 
sacred  moments  of  his  life  came  back  to  him  at  one  sweep,  — 
Austerlitz,  with  that  unfathomable  sky,  and  the  dead,  reproach- 
ful face  of  his  little  wife,  and  Pierre  on  the  ferry-boat,  and  the 
maiden  enjoying  the  beauty  of  the  night,  and  that  night  itself, 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  161 

and  the  moon:  everything  suddenly  crowded  back  into  his 
mind. 

"  No !  life  is  not  ended  at  thirty-one,"  suddenly  said  Prince 
Andrei  with  resolute,  unalterable  decision.  "  It  is  a  small  thing 
that  I  myself  know  what  is  in  me ;  all  others  must  know  it 
also ;  Pierre,  and  that  girl  who  wanted  to  fly  up  into  the  sky  ; 
all  of  them  must  learn  to  know  me,  so  that  my  life  may  not 
be  spent  for  myself  alone,  in  order  that  they  may  not  live  so 
independently  of  my  life,  that  it  may  send  its  reflection  over 
all  other  lives,  and  that  they  may  all  live  in  union  with  me ! " 

On  his  return  from  his  journey,  Prince  Andrei  made  up  his 
mind  to  go  to  Petersburg  in  the  autumn,  and  he  excogitated 
various  reasons  in  support  of  this  decision.  A  whole  series  of 
convincing  and  logical  arguments  in  favor  of  this  new  depart- 
ure, and  even  in  favor  of  re-entering  the  army,  were  all  the 
time  coming  to  his  aid.  It  now  even  passed  his  comprehen- 
sion that  he  could  ever  have  doubted  the  necessity  of  going 
back  to  active  life,  just  the  same  as  a  short  month  before  he 
could  not  comprehend  how  the  idea  ever  occurred  to  him  to 
leave  the  country. 

It  now  seemed  clear  to  him  that  all  his  experiments  of  life 
would  surely  be  wasted,  and  without  reason,  unless  he  were  to 
put  them  into  effect  and  once  more  take  an  active  part  in  life. 
He  now  could  not  understand  how,  on  the  strength  of  such 
wretched  arguments,  he  had  convinced  himself  that  it  would 
be  humiliating  himself,  after  all  his  lessons  in  life,  to  believe 
in  the  possibility  of  getting  profit,  and  the  possibility  of  hap- 
piness and  love.  Now  his  reason  showed  him  the  exact  con- 
trary. 

Alter  this  journey  of  his.  Prince  Andrei  began  to  feel  tired 
of  the  country ;  his  former  occupations  no  longer  interested 
him ;  and  ofttimes,  as  he  sat  alone  in  his  cabinet,  he  would 
get  up,  go  to  the  mirror,  and  look  long  at  his  own  face.  Then 
he  would  turn  away,  and  gaze  at  the  portrait  of  his  late 
wife,  Liza,  who,  with  her  little  curls  a  la  grecque,  looked 
down  upon  him,  with  an  affectionate  and  radiantly  happy  ex- 
pression, from  the  golden  frame.  She  seemed  no  longer  to  say 
to  her  husband  those  terrible  words  :  she  simply  gazed  at  him 
with  a  merry  and  quizzical  look.  And  Prince  Andrei,  clasping 
his  hands  behind  his  back,  would  walk  long  up  and  down  the 
room,  sometimes  scowling,  sometimes  smiling,  thinking  over 
the  preposterous,  inexpressible,  mysterious,  almost  criminal 
ideas  aroused  by  the  thought  of  Pierre,  of  glory,  of  the  maiden 
VOL.  2.  — 11. 


162  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

at  the  window,  of  the  old  oak,  of  the  beauty  of  women,  and 
love,  which  were  changing  his  whole  life.  And  at  such  mo- 
ments, when  any  one  came  to  see  him,  he  was  generally  diy, 
stern,  and  short,  and  disagreeably  logical. 

^*Mon  cher"  the  Princess  Mariya  once  said,  happening  to 
find  him  in  such  a  state,  *'  Nikolushka  can't  go  out  to-day :  it 
is  very  chilly.'^ 

"  If  it  were  warm,"  Prince  Andrei  replied  to  his  sister,  "  then 
he  might  go  out  in  nothing  but  his  shirt ;  but  since  it  is  cold, 
you  will  have  to  put  some  warm  clothes  on  him,  as  might  have 
occurred  to  you.  Now,  there  is  no  sense  in  keeping  the  child 
indoors  because  it  is  cold,  when  he  needs  the  fresh  air."  He 
would  say  such  things  with  all  the  logic  in  the  world,  as  though 
he  were  punishing  some  one  else  for  all  this  illogical  reason- 
ing that  was  secretly  working  in  his  mind.  Under  such  dr* 
cumstances,  it  was  not  strange  that  the  Princess  Mariya  said 
to  herself,  — 

<^How  this  intellectual  work  dries  up  the  heart!  " 


CHAPTER  IV. 

Prince  Andrei  reached  Petersburg  in  August,  1809.  This 
was  the  time  when  the  young  Speransky  was  at  the  apogee  of 
his  glory  and  zeal  for  the  reforms  which  he  had  undertaken. 

This  same  month  of  August,  the  emperor,  while  out  riding 
in  his  calash,  was  upset,  and  hurt  his  leg;  and  during  the  three 
weeks  that  he  was  confined  to  Peterhof,  he  would  see  no  one 
but  Speransky. 

It  was  during  this  time  that  two  ukazes,  or  rescripts,  of 
extreme  importance  and  most  alarming  to  society,  were  pre- 
pared :  the  one  was  in  regard  to  the  doing  away  of  Court  ehifh 
or  rank ;  and  the  other,  in  regard  to  the  passing  of  examina- 
tions for  the  rank  of  CoUegiate-Assessor  and  Councillor  of 
State.*  The  l^cheme  also  provided  for  a  complete  imperial 
constitution,  destined  to  revolutionize  the  existing  departments 
of  Justice,  Administration,  and  Finance,  from  the  Council  of 
State  even  down  to  the  tribunals  of  the  Volosts,  or  Cantons, 
throughout  the  empire. 

Kow  began  to  niaterialize  and  take  shape  those  vague  liberal 
dreams  with  which  the  Emperor  Alexander  had  mounted  the 

•  In  the  civil  Bervice.  the  kolUzhsky  assessor,  having  personal  nobility, 
corresponds  to  major ;  stduky  Movyitnik^  having  hereditary  nobility,  ranks 
above  oolonel  in  the  army. 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  168 

thTone,  and  which  he  had  vainly  endeavored  to  bring  about 
with  the  aid  of  his  assistants,  Czartorisky,  Novosiltsof,  Kotchu- 
bey,  and  Strogonof,  whom  he  in  jest  called  *'  la  comite  du  salut 
puMique  "  —  "  the  Committee  of  Public  Safety." 

At  this  time,  Speransky  was  the  general  representative  for 
civil  affairs,  and  Arakcheyef  for  all  things  connected  with  the 
military. 

Prince  Andrei,  immediately  after  his  arrival,  appeared  at 
court,  and  at  his  majesty's  levee,  in  his  capacity  as  chamber- 
lain. The  sovereign  twice,  on  meeting  him,  did  not  vouchsafe 
him  a  single  word.  Prince  Andrei  had  always  before  felt 
that  the  sovereign  did  not  approve  of  him,  that  his  face  and 
general  appearance  did  not  please  his  majesty.  By  the  cold  look 
of  disfavor  which  the  sovereign  gave  him,  Prince  Andrei  was 
still  more  confirmed  in  his  former  supposition.  The  courtiers 
explained  to  Prince  Andrei  that  the  emperor's  neglect  of  him 
was  due  to  his  majesty's  displeasure  at  Bolkonsky  leaving  the 
service  in  1805. 

"I  know  very  well  how  little  control  we  have  over  our 
likes  and  dislikes,"  said  Prince  Andrei  to  himself.  "And, 
therefore,  there  is  no  use  in  thinking  of  personally  presenting 
to  his  majesty,  the  emperor,  my  memorandtlm  on  the  military 
code  ;  but  I  must  let  its  merits  speak  for  themselves." 

He  mentioned  his  work  to  an  old  field  marshal,  a  friend  of 
his  father's.  The  field  marshal  gave  him  an  appointment, 
received  him  more  than  courteously,  and  promised  to  lay  the 
matter  before  the  sovereign.  Several  days  later.  Prince  Andrei 
was  notified  to  present  himself  before  the  minister  of  war, 
Count  Arakcheyef. 

At  ten  o'clock  on  the  morning  of  the  day  set.  Prince  Andrei 
went  to  Count  Arakcheyef  s. 

Prince  Andrei  did  not  know  the  minister  of  war  personally, 
and  had  never  even  seen  him ;  but  from  all  that  he  had  ever 
heard  of  him  he  was  disposed  to  hold  this  man  in  very  slight 
esteem. 

"  He  is  minister  of  war,  the  confidant  of  his  majesty  the 
emperor;  no  one  need  concern  himself  with  his  personal 
characteristics;  it  is  his  business  to  examine  my  memoi-an- 
dum;  moreover,  he  is  the  only  person  who  can  put  it  into 
execution,"  said  Prince  Andrei  to  himself,  as  he  sat  with  a 
number  of  other  visitors  of  more  or  less  note  waiting  in  Count 
Arakcheyefs  reception-room. 

Prince  Andrei  during  the  period  of  his  military  service, 


/^ 


164  ^y^R  AND  PEACE. 

which  most  of  the  time  had  been  in  the  quality  of  adjutant, 
had  seen  many  receptions  given  by  notabilities,  and  he  had 
always  been  interested  in  studying  the  various  characteristics 
of  those  who  were  present.  At  Count  Arakcheyef  s,  the  char- 
acter of  the  reception  was  entirely  different  from  anything 
that  he  had  ever  seen.  The  faces  of  the  less  notable  individ- 
uals who  were  waiting  their  turn  for  an  audience  with  Count 
Arakcheyef,  wore  an  expression  of  shame  and  humility ;  those 
of  higher  rank  gave  a  general  impression  of  awkwardness 
vainly  hidden  under  a  mask  of  ease  and  ironical  derision  of 
themselves,  their  position,  and  those  who  were  likewise  wait- 
ing. Some  walked  pensively  back  and  forth,  some  whispered 
and  laughed  together ;  and  Prince  Andrei  overheard  the  sobri- 
quet "  Sila  Andreyitch  "  —  "  Andreyitch  the  Strong  "  and  the 
expression  Dyddya  Zadast  —  "  Uncle  Push  "  applied  to  the 
*  count.  One  general,  a  man  of  note,  was  evidently  annoyed 
because  he  was  kept  waiting,  and  sat  with  his  legs  crossed, 
smiling  sarcastically  at  himself. 

But  whenever  the  door  opened,  all  faces  expressed  one  and 
the  same  sentiment  —  fear !  Prince  Andrei  for  a  second  time 
asked  the  officer  on  duty  to  take  in  his  name ;  but  he  received- 
a  scornful,  impertinent  stare,  and  was  told  that  he  would  be 
summoned  when  it  was  his  turn.  After  several  individuals 
had  been  escorted  in  and  out  of  the  war  minister's  cabinet,  an 
officer,  whose  frightened  and  humiliated  face  had  already 
struck  Prince  Andrei,  was  admitted  into  the  dreaded  audi- 
ence chamber.  This  officer's  audience  lasted  a  long  time. 
Suddenly  the  bellowing  of  a  disagreeable  voice  was  heard  on 
the  other  side  of  the  door ;  and  the  officer,  as  pale  as  a  sheet, 
and  with  trembling  lips,  came  out,  and,  clasping  his  head  with 
his  hands,  hastened  through  the  reception-room. 

Immediately  after  this.  Prince  Andrei  was  ushered  into  the 
audience  chamber ;  and  the  officer  on  duty  whispered,  "  To  the 
right,  next  the  window." 

Prince  Andrei  went  into  the  meanly  furnished  cabinet,  and 
saw,  sitting  by  the  table,  a  man  of  forty  years  of  age,  with  a 
long  waist,  and  a  peculiarly  long  head ;  the  hair  was  closely 
cropped ;  the  face  was  covered  with  deep  wrinkles ;  the  brows 
were  contracted  over  grayish-green,  heavy-looking  eyes  and  a 
drooping  nose.  Arakcheyef  turned  his  eyes  towai'd  the  new- 
comer without  looking  at  him. 

"  What  was  it  you  wanted  ?  "  asked  the  count. 

"I  have  nothing  to  ask  for,  your  illustriousness,"  replied 
Prince  Andrei  gently.     Arakcheyef's  eyes  fastened  on  him. 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  166 

"  Sit  down,"  said  Arakcheyef,  "  Prince  Bolkonsky  ?  " 

"  I  haye  nothing  to  ask  for ;  but  his  majesty,  the  emperor, 
deigned  to  put  into  your  hands  my  Memorandum,  your  illus- 
triousness  "  — 

"  Please  giye  me  your  attention,  my  dear  sir :  I  haye  read 
your  Memorandum,"  interrupted  Arakcheyef,  speaking  the 
first  words  with  a  certain  courtesy ;  then  again,  staring  into 
his  face,  and  assuming  more  and  more  of  a  querulous  and 
scornful  tone,  he  went  on,  "  You  propose  new  regulations  for 
the  army?  Plenty  of  regulations  now.  No  one  fulfils  the 
old  ones.  Nowadays  eyery body's  writing  new  regulations : 
it's  easier  to  write  'em  than  to  carry  them  out ! " 

"  I  haye  come  at  his  majesty  the  emperor's  request,  to  learn 
what  you  propose  to  do  with  my  Memorandum  ?  "  asked  Prince 
Andrei  respectfully. 

"  I  have  indorsed  my  decision  upon  your  manuscript,  and 
sent  it  to  the  committee.  I  do  not  approve  of  it,"  said  Arak- 
cheyef, getting  up  and  getting  a  slip  of  paper  from  his  writing- 
table.     "Here !  "  he  handed  it  to  Prince  Andrei. 

Across  the  paper  these  words  were  written  in  pencil,  with- 
out capitals  or  punctuation  marks,  and  ill-spelt :  ^^  without  basis 
in  common  cence  as  it  is  only  an  imitation  of  the  french  mili- 
tary coad  and  no  need  of  changing  our  own  articles  of  war." 

"  To  what  committee  has  my  Memorandum  been  given  ?  " 
inquired  Prince  Andrei. 

•*  To  the  Committee  on  the  Revision  of  the  Military  Code,  and 
I  have  added  your  nobility  to  the  list ;  but  without  salary." 

Prince  Andrei  smiled. 

"  I  should  wish  no  salary." 

"  An  honorary  member,  without  salary,"  reiterated  Arak- 
cheyef. "  I  have  the  honor  of —  Hey  there,  come  in !  Who's 
next  ?  "  he  shouted,  bowing  to  Piince  Andrei. 


CHAPTER  V. 

Whii*e  waiting  for  the  formal  notification  of  his  appoint- 
ment as  a  member  of  the  committee,  Prince  Andrei  took 
pains  to  renew  former  acquaintances,  especially  with  in- 
dividuals who,  as  he  knew,  were  in  power,  and  might  be 
of  assistance  to  him.  He  now  experienced  in  Petersburg 
a  feeling  analogous  to  that  which  he  had  experienced  on  the 
eve  of  a  battle,  when  a  restlessness  and  sense  of  curiosity 
had  invincibly  attracted  him    toward  those   lofty   spheres, 


166  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

the  laboratory  of  the  future,  on  which  dependod  the  fate  of 
millions.  By  observing  the  angry  criticisms  of  the  older  men, 
the  curiosity  of  the  uninitiated,  the  reserve  of  those  who  knew, 
the  eagerness  and  activity  of  all,  the  portentous  increase  in 
committees  and  commissions,  —  new  ones  being,  as  he  knew, 
appointed  every  day,  —  he  felt  certain  that  there  and  then,  in 
the  year  1809,  in  Petersburg,  some  mighty  civil  conflict  was 
in  preparation,  and  that  the  presiding  genius  of  it  was  to  be  a 
personage  as  yet  unknown  to  him,  endowed  in  his  fancy  with 
mysterious  qualities,  and  a  man  with  whom  he  was  prepared 
to  sympathize,  —  Mikhail  Speransky.  And  this  indefinitely 
realized  sense  of  an  impending  reform,  and  Speransky,  its 
leader,  l)egan  to  interest  him  so  intensely  that  the  matter  of 
the  military  code  was  very  soon  relegated  to  a  secondaTV 
place  in  his  mind. 

Prince  Andrei  found  himself  in  the  most  advantageous  posi- 
tion for  being  well  received  in  the  most  varied  and  lofty  cir- 
cles of  the  Petersburg  society  of  that  day.  The  party  pledged 
to  reform  welcomed  him  cordially,  and  did  their  best  to  win 
him  to  their  side,  — in  the  first  place,  because  he  had  a  reputa- 
tion for  intelligence  and  great  learning ;  in  the  second  place, 
because  he  of  his  own  free  will  had  emancipated  his  serfs,  and 
thereby  gained  himself  the  reputation  of  being  a  liberal. 

The  party  of  the  old  men,  the  discontents,  naturally  turned 
to  him  for  sympathy,  in  their  criticisms  of  reform,  as  being 
the  son  of  his  father.  The  generality  of  women,  the  world, 
gladly  welcomed  him,  because  he  was  a  rich  man,  and  illustri- 
ous, and  yet  practically  a  novelty,  with  that  aureole  of  romance 
with  which  he  was  crowned,  on  account  of  his  supposed  death, 
and  the  tragic  end  of  his  wife.  Moreover,  all  those  who  knew 
him  in  days  gone  by  confessed  with  one  accord  that  he  had 
greatly  changed  for  the  better  during  the  last  five  years,  that 
time  had  softened  down  his  asperities,  that  he  had  lost  all  that 
old  pretence,  pride,  and  sarcastic  manner,  and  hatl  now  ac- 
quired the  serenity  which  comes  only  with  yetars.  He  was 
talked  about,  people  were  interested  in  him,  and  all  were  anx- 
ious to  see  him. 

On  the  day  after  his  interview  with  Count  Arakcheyef, 
Prince  Andrei  was  at  a  reception  at  Count  Kotchubey's.  He 
had  been  telling  the  count  about  his  reception  by  "Sila  An- 
dreyitch."  That  was  the  nickname  by  whicn  Kotchubey  called 
Arakcheyef,  with  the  same  expression  of  masked  contempt  as 
Prince  Andrei  had  noticed  in  the  way  others  spoke  of  him  at 
the  minister  of  war's  reception-room. 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  167 

"  Mon  cheTj  even  in  this  affair  of  yours,  yon  can't  get  along 
without  Mikhail  Mikhailovitch.*  C^est  le  grand  faiseur ;  he 
can  do  everything.  I  will  tell  him.  He  promised  to  come 
this  evening." 

"  But  what  has  Speransky  to  do  with  military  matters  ?  " 
demanded  Prince  Andrei. 

Kotchubey,  with  a  smile,  shook  his  head,  as  though  amazed 
at  Bolkonsky's  ncCivetL 

"  He  and  I  were  speaking  of  you  only  a  day  or  two  ago," 
continued  Kotchubey,  "  and  about  your  free  laborers." 

"  Ah  ?  and  so  you  have  been  emancipating  your  muzhiks  ?  " 
asked  an  old  man  of  Catherine's  time,  turning  scornfully  upon 
Bolkonsky. 

"It  was  a  very  small  estate,  which  brought  in  a  very  meagre 
income,"  replied  Bolkonsky,  tiying  to  palliate  his  action,  in 
his  presence,  so  as  not  to  irritate  the  old  man  to  no  purpose. 

"  You  seem  to  be  in  a  great  hurry,"  f  said  the  old  man, 
glancing  at  Kotchubey.  "  There's  one  thing  I  do  not  under- 
stand," continued  the  old  man.  "  Who  is  going  to  plough  the 
land,  if  they  are  emancipated  ?  It's  easy  to  make  laAVS,  but 
hard  to  execute  them.  If  it  is  all  the  same  to  you,  count,  I 
will  ask  3'ou  who  is  going  to  be  the  deciding  judge  when  all 
have  to  pass  examinations  ?  " 

"  Those  who  succeed  in  passing  them,  I  suppose,"  replied 
Kotchubey,  shifting  from  one  leg  to  the  other,  and  glancing 
around. 

"  Now,  there  is  Pryanitchnikof,  an  excellent  nv^n,  true  as 
gold,  but  he  is  sixty  years  old :  will  he  pass  an  examination  ?  " 

"  Yes :  that  is  where  the  difficulty  lies,  since  certainly  edu- 
cation is  not  at  all  wide-spread,  but "  — 

Count  Kotchubey  did  not  finish  his  sentence.  He  got  up, 
and,  taking  Prince  Andrei  by  the  arm,  led  him  forward  to 
meet  a  tall,  bald  man  of  forty  years,  with  white  hands,  with  a 
broad,  open  forehead,  and  an  extraordinarily  strange  pallor  on 
his  long  face.  The  new-comer  wore  a  blue  coat,  the  ribbon 
of  an  order  around  his  neck,  and  a  star  over  his  heart. 

This  was  Speransky. 

Prince  Andrei  instantly  surmised  who  it  was,  and  a  peculiar 
feeling  stirred  his  heart,  as  usually  happens  at  significant 
moments  in  life.     Whether  it  were  caused  by  respect,  envy, 

*  Speransky  :  of  obscare  origin ;  his  family  name  possibly  Russified  by  the 
priests;  from  the  Latin  spero:  hence,  the  "Hopeful;  '*  one  of  the  greatest 
men  of  Alexander's  time;  from  foundling  to  prime  minister;  intrigued 
against,  banished;  and  afterward  one  of  the  governors  of  Siberia. 

t  "  Fow*  craignez  d*etre  en  retard.*' 


168  WAk  AND  PEACE, 

expectation^  he  could  not  tell.  Speransky's  whole  fig^ure  was 
of  a  peculiar  type,  so  that  it  was  impossible  for  a  moment  ever 
to  mistake  him.  Never  had  Prince  Andrei  seen  any  one  in 
the  spheres  where  he  had  moved,  who  was  so  remaikable  for 
the  calmness  and  self-assurance  of  his  motions,  though  they 
were  awkward  and  ungainly ;  or  any  one  who  had  such  a 
steady,  and  at  the  same  time  gentlej  gaze,  from  his  half- 
closed  and  rather  moist  eyes;  or  any  one  with  such  determi- 
nation expressed  in  a  smile  that  meant  so  much ;  or  with  such 
a  delicate,  gentle,  monotonous  voice  ;  and,  alx)ve  all,  such  an 
ethereal  pallor  of  face,  shared  also  by  the  hands,  which  were 
rather  broad,  but  extraordinarily  plump,  soft,  and  white.  Such 
white  and  ethereal  delicacy  of  complexion,  Prince  Andrei  had 
never  seen,  except  in  the  case  of  soldiers  who  had  been  long  at 
the  hospital. 

This,  then,  was  Speransky,  the  emperor's  secretary,  the  sov- 
ereign's factotum,  and  his  companion  at  Erfurt,  where  more 
than  once  he  had  met  and  talked  with  Napoleon. 

Speransky  did  not  glance  around  from  one  person  to  another, 
as  men  usually  do,  in  spite  of  themselves,  on  first  entering  a 
large  company ;  and  he  did  not  hurry  about  speaking.  He 
spoke  quietly,  assured  that  he  would  be  listened  to,  and  he 
looked  only  at  the  man  with  whom  he  was  speaking. 

Prince  Andrei  followed  Speransky 's  every  word  and  motion 
with  the  keenest  attention.  As  usually  happens  to  people, 
especially  to  those  who  are  inclined  to  judge  their  fellows 
severely.  Prince  Andrei,  on  meeting  a  new  personage,  like 
Speransky,*  for  instance,  whom  he  knew  by  reputation,  natu- 
rally expected  to  find  in  him  the  full  complement  of  human 
perfections. 

Speransky  told  Kotchubey  that  he  was  sorry  at  not  being 
able  to  come  earlier,  but  that  he  had  been  detained  at  the 
palace.  He  did  not  say  that  it  was  the  sovereign  who  had 
detained  him.  And  Prince  Andrei  remarked  this  affectation 
of  modesty.  When  Kotchubey  presented  Prince  Andrei,  Sper- 
ansky slowly  turned  his  eyes  upon  Bolkonsky,  without  alter- 
ing his  smile,  and  continued  to  gaze  at  him  in  silence. 

"  I  am  very  happy  to  make  your  acquaintance  :  I  have  heard 
of  you,  as  every  one  else  has,"  said  he. 

Kotchubey  gave  a  brief  account  of  Bolkonsky 's  reception  by 
Arakcheyef.     Speransky's  smile  grew  more  accented. 

"  The  chairman  of  the  Commission  for  Revising  the  Military 
Statutes,  Mr.  Magnitsky,  is  an  excellent  friend  of  mine,"  said 
he,  carefully  dwelling  on  each  syllable  and  each  word.     "  And 


' 


WAR  AND  PEACE,  169 

if  you  would  like,  I  can  give  you  a  personal  interview  with 
him."  (Here  he  came  to  a  full  stop.)  "  I  hope  that  you  will 
find  him  sympathetic^  and  willing  to  further  all  that  is 
reasonable." 

A  little  circle  had  immediately  gathered  around  Speransky ; 
and  the  same  old  man  who  had  spoken  of  his  chinovnik, 
Pryanitehnikof,  turned  to  the  minister  with  the  same  question. 

Prince  Andrei  did  not  take  part  in  the  conversation,  but 
contented  himself  with  observing  all  the  motions  of  Speran- 
sky, that  man  who  but  a  sliort  time  since  had  been  an  obscure 
seminarist,  and  now  had  in  his  hands,  those  white,  plump 
hands,  the  control  of  Russia's  fortunes.  He  was  struck  by 
the  extraordinary,  contemptuous  calmness  with  which  Sper- 
ansky answered  the  old  man.  It  seemed  as  though  he 
stooped  down  from  an  immeasurable  height  to  grant  him  a 
condescending  word.  When  the  old  man  began  to  speak 
louder  than  the  occasion  justified,  Speransky  smiled,  and  said 
that  he  could  not  judge  of  the  utility  or  futility  of  what  the 
sovereign  deigned  to  approve. 

After  conversing  for  some  time  with  the  group  generally, 
Speransky  got  up,  and,  crossing  over  to  Prince  Andrei,  drew 
him  aside  to  another  corner  of  the  room.  It  was  plain  that 
he  considered  it  necessary  to  patronize  Bolkonsky. 

"  I  haven't  had  a  chance  to  talk  with  you  yet,  prince,  owing 
to  the  lively  discussion  into  which  I  was  drawn  by  that  worthy 
old  gentleman,"  said  he,  with  his  blandly  contemptuous  smile, 
seeming  to  imply  by  this  smile  that  he  and  Prince  Andrei 
appreciated  the  insignificance  of  the  people  with  whom  he 
had  just  been  talking.  This  treatment  was  very  flattering  to 
Prince  Andrei. 

"  I  have  known  of  you  for  a  long  time,  —  in  the  first  place, 
through  your  treatment  of  your  serfs,  the  first  example  of  the 
sort,  I  believe,  and  one  which  I  should  like  to  see  generally 
followed ;  and  in  the  second  place,  l)eeause  you  are  the  only 
one  of  the  chamberlains  who  has  not  considered  himself  abused 
by  the  new  ukaz,  concerning  the  court  ranks,  which  has  pro- 
duced so  much  talk  and  criticism." 

"Yes,"  replied  Prince  Andrei.  "My  father  did  not  wish 
me  to  take  advantage  of  this  prerogative :  I  began  with  the 
lowest  step  in  the  service." 

"  Your  father  is  a  man  of  a  bygone  generation :  he  evidently 
stands  far  above  the  men  of  our  day,  who  are  so  severe  in  their 
judgments  upon  this  measure,  and  yet  it  aims  simply  to  re-es- 
tabUsh  genuine  justice." 


170  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

"  I  am  inclined  to  think,  however,  that  there  is  some  gronnd 
for  these  criticisms,"  said  Prince  Andrei,  striving  to  free  him- 
self from  Speransky's  influence,  of  which  he  was  beginning  to 
feel  conscious.  It  was  distasteful  for  him  to  agree  with  the 
man  at  every  point :  he  felt  a  strong  desire  to  contradict  him. 
Prince  Andrei,  who  generally  spoke  fluently  and  well,  now 
found  some  difficulty  in  expressing  himself  while  talking  with 
Speransky.  He  was  too  much  occupied  with  his  study  of  the 
personality  of  this  distinguished  man. 

"  The  ground  of  personal  vanity,  maybe,"  quietly  suggested 
Speransky. 

"  Partly,  and  also  for  the  sake  of  the  government,"  replied 
Prince  Andrei. 

"  What  makes  you  think  so  ?  "  asked  Speransky,  slightly 
dropping  his  eyes. 

"I   am   a  disciple  of  Montesquieu,"  said  Prince  Andrei. 

"  And  his  maxim,  that  *  Le  prinelpe  des  monarchies  est  Vhoi^ 

neur,^  me  parait  incontestaMe.     Certain  rights  and  privileges 

'of  the  nobility  seem  to  me  to  be  the  means  of  maintaining  this 

sentiment." 

The  smile  faded  from  Speransky 's  pallid  face,  and  his  ex- 
pression gained  greatly  by  the  change.  Evidently,  Prince 
Andrei's  thought  seemed  to  him  worthy  of  consideration. 

"  aS^i  voiis  envisagez  la  question  sons  ee  point  de  v««,"  he  be- 
gan, finding  it  evidently  rather  difficult  to  express  himself  in 
French,  and  speaking  still  more  deliberately  than  in  Russian, 
and  yet  with  absolute  self-possession,  "Montesquieu  says 
that  honor,  Vhonneur,  cannot  be  maintained  by  prerogatives 
that  are  injurious  to  the  service;  that  honor,  Vhonneitr,  is 
either  the  negative  concept  of  refraining  from  reprehensible 
actions,  or  it  is  the  true  fountain-head  of  impulse  for  the  win- 
ning of  approbation,  and  the  rewards  that  are  the  fruit  there- 
of." 

His  arguments  were  succinct,  simple,  and  clear. 

"  An  institution  that  maintains  this  honor,  this  source  of 
emulation,  an  institution  like  the  Legion  d^Honneur,  of  the 
great  Emperor  Napoleon,  is  not  prejudicial,  but  advantageous 
to  the  success  of  the  service,  but  that  is  not  true  of  social  or 
court  prerogatives." 

"  I  do  not  quarrel  with  that,  but  it  is  impossible  to  deny 
that  court  privileges  have  always  tended  toward  the  same  end," 
said  Prince  Andrei.  "  Every  courtier  should  consider  himself 
bound  to  fulfil  his  duties  worthily." 

"  But  you  have  not  cared  to  take  advantage  of  them,  prince," 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  171 

letorted  Speransky,  his  smile  showing  that  hairing  worsted  his 
opponent  in  the  argument,  he  was  now  ready  to  cut  short  this 
special  mark  of  his  favor.  '^  If  you  will  do  me  the  honor  of 
calling  upon  me  Wednesday/'  he  added,  "  then  I  shall  have 
had  a  talk  with  Magnitsky,  and  may  he  ahle  to  tell  you  some- 
thing of  interest ;  and^  moreover,  I  shall  have  the  pleasure  of  a 
more  circumstantial  conversation  with  you." 

Then,  closing  his  eyes,  he  made  him  a  low  bow,  and  slipped 
from  the  room  a  la  Fran^aisey  without  taking  leave,  so  as  not 
to  attract  attention. 


CHAPTER  YI. 

During  the  first  part  of  his  stay  in  Petersburg,  Prince 
Andrei  was  conscious  that  the  whole  system  of  thought  which 
he  had  elaborated  during  his  solitary  life  in  the  country,  was 
entirely  obscured  by  the  petty  occupations  with  which  he  was 
now  engaged  in  the  city. 

Every  evening,  when  he  returned  to  his  lodgings,  he  jotted 
down  in  his  note-book  four  or  five  indispensable  visits  or  ap- 
pointments for  the  next  day.  The  mechanisms  of  his  life,  the 
arrangement  of  the  twenty-four  hours,  so  as  to  allow  him  to  be 
always  punctual,  was  at  the  cost  of  a  goodly  portion  of  his  men- 
tal energy.  He  accomplished  nothing ;  he  neither  thought, 
nor  had  time  to  think  ;  and  whatever  he  said  in  conversation 
—  and  it  must  be  confessed  tbat  he  talked  well  —  was  merely 
the  fruit  of  his  solitary  meditation  in  the  country. 

He  occasionally  remarked  with  dissatisfaction,  that  on  appear- 
ing at  different  gatherings  on  one  and  the  same  day,  he  found 
himself  repeating  himself.  But  he  was  so  absorbed  all  day 
long,  that  he  had  no  time  to  think  out  anything  new.    . 

He  went  to  Speransky's  house  on  Wednesday,  and  had  a  long 
and  confidential  talk  with  him.  The  impression  that  had  been 
produced  on  him  by  Speransky  at  his  first  meeting  with  him 
at  Kotchubey's,  was  repeated  and  intensified. 

Prince  Andrei  looked  upon  so  many  men  as  contemptible 
and  beneath  contempt,  he  had  such  a  powerful  desire  to  dis- 
cover in  another  the  living  ideal  of  the  perfection  toward  which 
he  was  striving,  that  it  was  easy  for  him  to  believe  that  he 
had  discoYered  in  Speransky  his  ideal  of  a  perfectly  reasonable 
and  virtuous  man.  If  Speransky  had  sprung  from  the  same 
class  in  society  to  which  Prince  Andrei  belonged,  if  he  had 
had  a  similar  education  and  mental  processes,  Bolkonsky  would 


172  ^AR  AND  PEACE. 

have  soon  discovered  his  weaknesses,  his  human  instead  of 
his  heroic  side ;  but  now  this  strangely  logical  bent  of  mind 
aroused  his  esteem,  from  the  very  fact  that  he  did  not  fully 
understand  him.  Moreover,  Speransky,  either  because  he 
prized  Prince  Andrei's  talents,  or  because  he  felt  that  it  was 
necessary  to  attract  him  to  himself,  displayed  before  Prince 
Andrei  his  cool,  easy  wit,  and  flattered  Prince  Andrei  with 
that  delicate  flattery  which  appeals  to  a  man's  self-conceit,  by 
tacitly  taking  for  granted  that  he  is  the  only  other  man  capa- 
ble of  comprehending  the  full  depth  of  stupidity  of  all  the 
rest  of  the  world,  and  the  reasonableness  and  depth  of  their 
own  ideas. 

During  the  time  of  that  long  conversation  of  theirs  on 
Wednesday  evening,  Speransky  more  than  once  said,  "  With 
Its  there  is  a  chance  to  look  upon  everything  that  rises  above 
the  common  level  of  the  commonplace  routine;"  or,  with  a 
smile,  "  But  our  idea  is  that  the  wolves  should  be  fed  well, 
and  yet  the  sheep  kept  whole ; "  or,  "  They  cannot  compre- 
hend this ; "  and  all  the  time  his  expression  seemed  to  imply, 
"  We  —  that  is,  you  and  I  —  understand  who  they  are,  and  who 
we  are." 

This  long  conversation  with  Speransky  merely  served  to 
confirm  the  feeling  produced  in  him  at  his  first  interview  with 
him.  He  saw  in  him  an  intelligent,  severely  logical  man,  of 
immense  talent,  energy,  and  tenacity  of  purpose,  who  desired 
to  obtain  power  which  he  would  wield  solely  for  the  good  of 
Russia.  Speransky  was,  in  Prince  Andrei's  eyes,  the  man 
most  able  to  explain  by  his  intellect  alone  all  the  phenomena 
of  life,  accepting  as  of  any  importance  only  what  appealed  to 
his  reason,  and,  in  all  circumstances,  capable  of  applying  the  i 
rules  of  logic  in  a  way  that  he  had  always  longed  to  be  able  to 
do.  Everything  was  placed  before  his  mind  so  lucidly  tlirough 
Speransky's  exposition,  that  he  found  himself  freeing  with 
him  on  every  point,  in  spite  of  himself.  If  he  raised  objec- 
tions, and  entered  into  discussions  with  him,  it  was  simply  be- 
cause he  was  anxious  to  be  independent,  and  not  a  mere  echo 
of  Speransky 's  opinions. 

Everything  was  just  as  it  should  be,  everything  about  him 
was  good ;  but  there  were  one  or  two  things  that  struck  Prince 
Andrei  unpleasantly  :  such  were  Speransky 's  cold,  mirror-like, 
inscrutable  eyes,  and  his  white,  plump  hand.  Prince  Andrei 
could  not  help  looking  at  them,  just  as  one  is  always  drawn 
to  look  at  the  hands  of  those  men  who  are  in  the  possession  of 
power.    These  mirror-like  eyes  and  that  soft  hand  somehow 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  173 

irritated  Prince  Andrei.  He  was  also  offended  by  the  over- 
weening contempt  for  men  which  he  had  remarked  in  Speran- 
skiy and  at  the  various  shifts  in  his  arguments  which  he  used 
for  the  buttressing  of  his  ideas.  He  made  use  of  all  possible 
weapons  of  thought,  especially  affecting  metaphors ;  and  it 
seemed  to  Prince  Andrei  that  he  leaped  from  one  to  another 
with  too  great  audacity.  Sometimes  he  set  himself  up  as  a 
practical  worker,  and  flouted  visionaries ;  then  as  a  satirist, 
and  made  ironical  sport  of  his  antagonists ;  then  he  would 
become  severely  logical ;  then  suddenly  he  would  rise  into  the 
domain  of  pure  philosophy.  (This  last  weapon  of  proof  he  was 
especially  fond  of  employing.)  He  would  take  questions  to 
the  heights  of  metaphysics,  indulge  in  definitions  of  space, 
time,  and  thought,  and,  finding  counter-arguments  in  them,  he 
would  come  back  to  fresh  discussions. 

On  the  whole,  the  chief  trait  of  Speransky's  intellect,  and 
one  that  amazed  Prince  Andrei,  was  his  unswerving,  unques- 
tioning faith  in  the  power  and  validity  of  the  intellect.  It 
was  evident  that  Speransky  never  dreamed  of  harboring  such 
thoughts  as  were  habitual  with  Prince  Andrei,  as  to  the 
impossibility  of  expressing  all  that  came  into  his  mind,  or  that 
he  had  ever  doubted  whether  all  that  he  thought  and  all  that 
he  believed  were  not  vanity.  And  it  was  this  very  character- 
istic of  Speransky's  intellect  that  especially  attracted  Prince 
Andrei  toward  him. 

During  the  first  period  of  his  acquaintance  with  Speransky, 
Prince  Andrei  conceived  a  passionate  admiration  for  him, 
analogous  to  that  which  he  had  whilom  experienced  for  Bona- 
parte. The  circumstance  that  Speransky  was  the  son  of  a 
priest,  which  many  looked  upon  as  derogatory,  scorning  a 
man  as  a  ktU&nik  —  a  priestling  —  or  a  popdvitch  —  the  son 
of  a  pope,  undoubtedly  made  Prince  Andrei  particularly 
cautious  in  indulging  this  feeling  toward  Speransky,  and 
unconsciously  led  him  to  keep  it  to  himself. 

On  that  fijrst  evening  that  Bolkonsky  spent  with  him,  they 
got  to  talking  about  the  Committee  for  the  Revision  of  the 
Laws ;  and  Speransky  told  Prince  Andrei,  with  a  touch  of 
irony,  how  this  committee  had  existed  a  hundred  and  fifty 
years,  had  cost  millions,  and  yet  had  not  accomplished  any- 
thing; that  Kosenkampf  had  merely  stuck  labels  on  all  the 
articles  of  comparative  legislation.  ''And  that  is  all  the  re- 
sult that  the  government  has  received  from  those  millions," 
said  he.  "  We  want  to  give  new  judicial  powers  to  the  Senate, 
and  we  have  no  laws.  Therefore,  it  is  a  sin  for  such  men  as 
you,  prince^  not  to  serve  at  the  present  time." 


174  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

Prince  Andrei  replied  that  for  this  it  needed  a  legal  train- 
ing, which  he  did  not  possess. 

^'  But  there  is  no  one  who  has ;  so  what  are  yon  going  to 
do  about  it  ?  This  is  a  circulu^  viciosus,  and  we  must  break 
away  from  it  by  main  force." 

■ 

Before  a  week  was  over,  Prince  Andrei  was  appointed  a 
member  of  the  Committee  on  Revising  the  Military  Code,  aud, 
much  to  his  surprise,  ndchalnlkj  or  president,  of  one  section 
of  the  Special  Commission  on  the  Revision  of  the  Laws.  At 
Speransky's  special  request,  he  took  up  the  study  of  the  **  Re- 
vised Civil  Code,"  and  with  the  aid  of  the  "  Code  Napolten,'^ 
and  the  '^  Institutes  of  Justinian,"  set  to  work  on  the  section 
entitled  "  The  Rights  of  Individuals." 


CHAPTER  VII. 

Two  years  before  this,  Pierre,  on  his  return  to  Petersburg, 
from  his  tour  among  his  estates,  found  himself  involuntarily 
at  the  head  of  the  Petersburg  Freemasons.  He  establishei 
dining  lodges  and  burial  lodges,  he  gained  over  new  members, 
labored  for  the  union  of  various  lodges,  and  for  the  acquisition 
of  original  documents.  He  gave  his  money  freely  toward  the 
building  of  a  Masonic  temple,  and,  so  far  as  it  lay  in  his 
power,  pushed  forward  the  collections  for  charity,  in  regard 
to  which  the  majority  of  the  members  were  penurious  or 
unpunctual.  He  supported  almost  unaided  the  almshouse 
established  by  the  order  in  Petersburg. 

His  life,  in  the  mean  time,  went  on  the  same  as  before,  with 
the  same  inclinations  and  dissipations.  He  liked  the  pleas- 
ures of  the  table,  —  good  eating  and  wines  ;  and  although  he 
looked  upon  it  as  immoral  and  degrading,  he  could  not  keep 
himself  from  the  gayeties  of  his  bachelor  friends  with  whom 
he  mingled. 

Amid  the  fog  of  all  his  various  occupations  and  enterprises, 
Pierre,  however,  before  a  year  was  over,  began  to  be  conscious 
that  the  Masonic  ground  on  which  he  stood  was  giving  way 
faster  and  faster  under  his  feet,  the  more  he  tried  to  maintain 
himself  upon  it.  At  the  same  time,  he  felt  that  the  more  the 
ground  on  which  he  stood  yielded  under  him,  the  more  inex- 
tricably he  was  committed  to  it.  When  he  lirst  entered  Free- 
majsonry,  he  experienced  the  sensations  of  a  man  who  unques- 
tioningly  ^ets  f;K)t  9A  the  smooth  surface  of  a  bog.    On  bear- 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  175 

ing  his  weight  upon  it,  he  begins  to  sink.  In  order  fully  to 
persuade  himself  of  the  solidity  of  the  ground  whereon  he 
stands,  he  sets  down  another  foot,  and  slumps  in  more  deeply 
than  hefore,  and,  being  caught  in  it,  he,  in  spite  of  himself, 
wades  in  up  to  the  knee. 

Osip,  or  rather  losiph  Alekseyevitch,  was  no  longer  in 
Petersburg.  Of  late,  he  had  done  with  the  Petersburg  Lodges, 
and  lived  exclusively  at  Moscow.  All  the  brethren,  the  mem- 
bers of  the  Lodges,  were  Pierre's  acquaintances  in  everyday  life, 
and  it  was  hard  for  him  to  see  them  as  merely  brothers,  accord- 
ing to  Freemasonry,  and  not  as  Prince  B ,  and  not  as  Ivan 

Vasilyevitch  D ,  whom  he  knew  in  society,  for  the  most  part, 

as  weak  and  insignificant  men.  Under  their  Masonic  aprons 
and  insignia,  he  could  not  help  seeing  their  uniforms  and  the 
decorations  which  they  had  obtained  in  the  world.  Ofttimes, 
when  collecting  the  contributions  and  counting  the  twenty  or 
thirty  rubles  received —  for  the  most  part  in  promises  —  from 
a  dozen  men,  half  of  whom  were  as  able  to  pay  as  he  himself 
was,  Pierre  remembered  the  Masonic  oath,  wliereby  each 
brother  bound  himself  to  give  all  his  possessions  to  his  fellow- 
men,  and  then  doubts  would  arise,  though  he  would  strive  not 
to  dwell  upon  them. 

He  divided  all  the  brethren  whom  he  knew  into  four  cate- 
gories. In  the  first,  he  placed  those  who  took  no  interest  in 
the  transactions  of  the  Lodges,  or  in  human  affairs  in  general, 
bat  were  exclusively  absorbed  in  the  mysterious  doctrines  of 
the  order,  absorbed  in  questions  as  to  the  threefold  nature  of 
God,  or  the  three  primordial  elements  of  matter,  —  sulphur, 
mercury,  ajid  salt,  —  or  as  to  the  significance  of  the  Cube,  and 
all  the  symbolism  of  Solomon's  Temple.  Pierre  reverenced 
this  class  of  Masons,  to  which  belonged  principally  the  older 
members  of  the  Brotherhood — and  losiph  Alekseyevitch,  in 
Pierre's  opinion  —  but  he  could  not  share  in  their  pursuits.  His 
heart  was  not  attracted  by  the  mysterious  side  of  Masonry. 

In  the  second  category,  he  reckoned  himself,  and  those  like 
himself  —  seekers,  inclined  to  waver,  not  yet  successful  in 
walking  the  straight  and  intelligible  way  of  Masonry,  but  all 
the  time  striving  to  walk  in  it. 

In  the  third  category,  he  placed  the  brethren  —  and  they 
formed  the  majority  —  who  saw  in  Freemasonry  nothing  but 
superficial  formalities  and  ceremonies,  and  who  insisted  upon 
the  strenuous  fulfilment  of  these  external  forms,  caring  noth- 
ing for  their  real  essence  and  significance.  Such  were 
VUlarskjr,  and  even  the  Gi-and  Master  of  the  Supreme  Lodge. 


176  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

In  the  fourth  category,  finally,  were  reckoned  also  the  great 
mass  of  the  brethren,  and  especially  those  who  had  been 
admitted  since  he  had.  These  were  men  who,  according  to 
Pierre's  observation,  believed  nothing,  desired  nothing,  and 
entered  the  Brotherhood  simply  for  the  sake  of  bringing  them- 
selves into  intimate  relations  with  the  rich  young  men  endowed 
with  influential  connections,  who  abounded  in  the  Lodges. 

Pierre  began  to  feel  dissatisfied  with  his  activity.  Masonry, 
at  least  Masonry  such  as  he  knew  it  in  Russia,  it  sometimes 
seemed  to  him,  was  founded  on  mere  formalities.  He  did 
not  dream  of  doubting  Masonry  itself,  but  he  was  persuaded 
that  Russian  Freemasonry  was  on  the  wrong  track,  and  had 
turned  aside  from  its  first  principles.  And,  therefore,  toward 
the  end  of  that  year,  Pierre  went  abroad  to  become  initiated 
in  the  highest  mysteries  of  the  Order. 

In  the  summer  of  1809,  Pierre  returned  to  Petersburg. 
Through  correspondence  carried  on  between  our  Masons  and 
those  abroad,  it  became  known  that  Bezukhoi  had  succeeded 
in  winning  the  confidence  of  many  individuals  standing  in  the 
very  highest  ranks  of  the  Order,  had  been  initiated  into  the 
deepest  secrets,  had  been  raised  to  the  very  highest  degrees, 
and  was  bringing  back  to  Russia  notions  of  the  greatest 
advantage  for  the  Confraternity.  The  Petersburg  Masons  all 
flocked  around  him,  trying  to  get  into  his  good  graces  ;  and  it 
was  intimated  to  all,  that  he  had  something  weighty  in  store, 
which  he  was  getting  ready  for  them. 

A  solemn  meeting  was  called  of  the  Lodge  of  the  second 
degree,  and  Pierre  promised  to  communicate  the  message  with 
which  he  was  charged  by  the  supreme  directors  of  the  Order. 
The  session  was  crowded.  After  the  ordinary  business  was 
concluded,  Pierre  got  up  and  began  his  speech. 

"  Beloved  brethren,"  he  began,  flushing  and  hesitating,  and 
holding  in  his  hand  his  address  all  ready  written,  "  it  is  not 
enough  to  keep  our  secrets  in  the  privacy  of  the  Lodge  room, 
it  is  necessary  to  act,  to  act.  We  have  fallen  into  a  state  of 
torpor,  and  we  must  act."  —  Here  Pierre  paused  and  took  to 
his  manuscript. 

"  For  the  propagation  of  pure  truth,  and  for  securing  the 
triumph  of  virtue,"  he  read,  "  we  must  purge  men  of  their  pre- 
judices, and  spread  abroad  regulations  consonant  with  the 
spirit  of  the  time ;  we  must  undertake  the  education  of  the 
young,  and  make  ourselves  one  by  indissoluble  bonds  with 
men  of  intellect ;  we  must  boldly,  and  at  the  same  time  pru- 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  177 

dently,  contend  with  superstition,  infidelity,  and  folly ;  we 
must  organize  among  the  men  devoted  to  our  cause  bands  of 
workers,  united  together  by  singleness  of  aim,  and  possessed 
of  power  and  strength. 

"For  the  furtherance  of  these  ends,  we  must  weight  the 
scale,  so  that  virtue,  and  not  vice,  will  tip  the  beam ;  we  must 
strive  to  make  it  possible  for  the  virtuous  man,  even  in  this 
world,  to  receive  the  eternal  rewards  for  his  good  deeds.  But 
these  mighty  undertakings  find  a  tremendous  obstacle  in  exist- 
ing political  institutions.  What,  then,  are  we  to  do  in  such  a 
state  of  affairs  ?  Shall  we  use  revolutionary  methods  ?  Shall 
we  overturn  all  things  ?  Oppose  force  with  force  ?  No,  we 
are  very  far  from  advising  that.  All  violent  reforms  deserve 
censure,  because  they  can  never  do  away  with  evil,  so  long  as 
men  are  what  they  are ;  and,  therefore,  it  is  the  part  of  wis- 
dom not  to  employ  violence.  t> 

"  The  whole  aim  of  our  Fraternity  should  consist  in  mak- 
ing men  consistent,  virtuous,  joined  together  in  the  unity  of 
a  conviction,  a  conviction  that  it  is  their  duty  everywhere  and 
with  all  their  toight  to  oppose  vice  and  folly,  and  the  wasting 
of  their  talents  and  virtues ;  to  raise  worthy  men  from  the 
dust,  and  unite  them  into  one  brotherhood.  Only  then  our  Fra- 
ternity will  secure  the  power  of  insensibly  binding  the  hands 
of  those  who  work  disorder,  and  so  direct  them  that  they  will 
not  be  aware  of  it.  In  a  word,  it  is  necessary  to  found  a  dom- 
inant form  of  government,  which  shall  propagate  itself  over 
the  whole  world,  without  destroying  social  ties,  or  preventing 
other  forms  of  government  from  still  continuing  to  maintain 
their  own  special  rights,  and  do  everything  except  stand  in 
the  way  of  the  mighty  objects  of  our  Fraternity,  —  which  is  to 
make  virtue  triumph  over  vice.  This  was  the  aim  proposed 
by  Christianity  itself.  It  taught  men  to  be  wise  and  good, 
and,  for  their  own  advantage,  to  follow  the  example  and  pre- 
cepts of  the  best  and  wisest  men. 

"  At  a  time  when  all  were  immersed  in  darkness,  it  was  suf- 
ficient, of  course,  to  haVe  preaching  alone  :  the  novelty  of  the 
truth  constituted  its  peculiar  strength,  but  at  the  present  day 
we  are  obliged  to  maJ^e  use  of  far  more  powerful  means.  It 
is  necessary  now  that  a  man,  guided  by  his  senses,  should  find 
in  virtue  a  genuine  charm.  It  is  impossible  to  eradicate  the 
passions ;  one  must,  therefore,  strive  to  guide  them  to  salutary 
ends ;  and,  accordingly,  it  is  requisite  that  every  man  should 
satisfy  them  within  the  limits  of  virtue,  and  our  Fraternity 
should  furnish  the  means  for  this  end, 

vol..  2.  — 12, 


178  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

''  As  soon  as  we  have  enrolled  a  considerable  number  of  worthy 
men  in  every  land,  e&ch  one  of  them  will  bring  around  him  two 
others,  and  all  will  be  straitly  united  together ;  then  all  things 
will  be  possible  for  our  Fraternity,  which  has  already  been 
able  to  do  much,  though  working  secretly,  for  the  advantage 
of  humanity." 

This  discourse  produced  not  only  a  profound  impression,  bat 
even  a  genuine  excitement.  The  majority  of  the  brethren 
afPected  to  see  in  it  the  dangerous  doctrines  of  the  lUuminati,* 
and  Pierre  was  amazed  at  the  coldness  with  which  it  was 
received. 

The  Grand  Master  began  to  raise  objections  to  Pierre's 
theories.  Pierre,  with  growing  heat,  tried  to  defend  them. 
It  was  a  long  time  since  they  had  had  such  a  stormy  se^on. 
The  members  were  divided  into  parties  :  some  accused  Pierre 
an4  criticised  him  for  preaching  the  mystical  doctrines  of  the 
Illuminati ;  others  defended  him.  Pierre  for  the  first  time,  at 
this  meeting,  was  struck  by  the  endless  variety  of  human 
minds,  the  result  of  which  is  that  no  truth  presents  itself  alike 
to  any  two  men.  Even  those  who  seemed  to  be  on  his  side  ac- 
cepted him  in  their  own  way,  with  mental  reservations  and 
changes,  with  which  he  could  not  agree,  since  his  chief  desire 
was  nothing  else  than  to  transfer  his  tliought  to  others,  exactly 
as  he  himself  understood  it.  Toward  the  end  of  the  meeting, 
the  Grand  Master,  with  some  ill-feeling,  ironically  called  Be- 
zukhoi's  attention  to  his  heat,  and  remarked  that  it  was  not  so 
much  love  toward  humanity,  as  it  was  the  impulse  of  quarrel- 
someness that  had  dragged  him  into  the  discussion.  Pierre 
made  no  reply,  and  asked  bluntly  whether  his  scheme  would 
be  accepted.  When  he  was  told  no,  Pierre,  without  waiting 
for  the  usual  formalities,  left  the  Lodge  and  went  home. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

Pierre  now  found  himself  again  the  victim  of  the  old  mel- 
ancholy which  he  dreaded  so  much.  He  spent  the  three  days 
that  followed  the  reading  of  his  discourse  at  the  Lodge,  at 
home  on  his  sofa,  seeing  no  one,  and  not  once  stirring  out  of 
doors. 

At  this  time  he  received  a  letter  from  his  wife,  who  begged 

*  A  famous  society  of  mystics,  founded  by  Professor  Adam  Weishaupt, 
of  Germany,  in  1776,  and  numbering  two  thousand  members,  many  of  whom 
were  Freemaaons;  prohibited  by  tlie  Bavarian  Qovecnmwt  in  17^, 


WAR  AND  PKACS,  17& 

him  to  g^nt  her  an  interview,  described  her  sorrow  at  what 
had  happened,  and  her  desire  to  devote  her  whole  life  to  him. 

At  the  end  of  the  letter,  she  informed  him  that  she  was 
about  returning  to  Petersburg,  from  abroad. 

Shortly  after  the  receipt  of  this  letter,  one  of  the  Masonic 
brethren,  whom  he  respected  less  than  the  others,  broke  in 
upon  his  solitude,  and,  leading  the  conversation  to  Pierre's 
domestic  grievances,  took  it  upon  him  to  say  to  him,  in  the 
way  of  brotherly  advice,  that  his  severity  toward  his  wife  was 
unjust,  and  that  Pierre  had  swerved  from  the  first  rules  of 
the  Brotherhood,  which  called  for  forgiveness  of  the  penitent. 

At  the  same  time,  also,  his  mother-in-law,  the'wife  of  Prince 
Vasili,  sent  for  him,  begging  him  to  call  upon  her,  if  only  for 
a  few  minutes,  in  regard  to  a  matter  of  supreme  importance. 
Pierre  saw  that  he  was  destined  to  be  overpersuaded,  that  they 
were  bound  to  have  him  reconciled  to  his  wife,  and  indeed  this 
was  not  wholly  disagreeable  to  him  in  the  state  of  mind  in 
which  he  found  himself.  It  was  all  the  same  to  him.  He 
now  felt  that  nothing  in  life  was  of  great  importance,  and 
under  the  influence  of  the  low  spirits  which  had  ruled  him,  he 
prized  neither  his  own  freedom  nor  his  obstinate  determina- 
tion to  punish  his  wife. 

"  Ko  one  is  right,  no  one  is  to  blame,  and  of  course  she  was 
not  to  blame,"  he  said  to  himself.  If  Pierre  did  not  immedi- 
ately agree  to  a  reconciliation  with  his  wife,  it  was  simply 
because  in  this  condition  of  melancholy  in  which  he  found 
himself,  he  had  not  the  energy  to  take  the  first  step  in  the 
matter.  If  his  wife  had  come  to  him,  he  would  simply  not 
have  driven  her  away.  In  comparison  with  what  now  occu- 
pied him,  was  it  not  a  matter  of  supreme  indifference  to  him 
whether  he  lived  or  did  not  live  with  his  wife  ? 

Vouchsafing  no  reply  either  to  his  wife  or  her  mother, 
Pierre,  late  one  evening,  started  off  and  went  to  Moscow,  in 
order  to  have  a  consultation  with  Bazdeyef.  This  was  what 
Pierre  wrote  in  his  diary :  — 

Moscow,  November  29. 

I  have  only  just  come  from  the  Benefactor's,  and  I  make  haste  to  tran- 
scribe all  roy  experiences  with  him.  losiph  Alekseyevitch  lives  in  ex- 
treme poverty,  and  has  been  suffering  for  two  years' past  with  a  painful 
affection  of  the  bladder.  No  one  has  ever  heard  him  utter  a  groan  or  a 
word  of  complaint.  From  morning  till  late  at  night,  he  spends  all  his 
time,  except  while  at  his  most  simple  meals,  devoting  himself  to  scien- 
tific work. 

He  received  me  courteously,  and  I  sat  down  on  the  bed  where  he  was 
lying.  I  gave  him  the  grip  of  the  Knights  of  the  East  and  of  Jerusalem. 
He  replied  with  the  same,  and  with  a  benignant  smile  asked  me  what  1 


180  W^ti  AUD  PS  ACS. 

» 

had  learned  and  experienced  in  the  Prussian  and  Scottish  Lodges.  I  told 
hiiu  everything  tliat  I  knew;  then  I  related  to  htm  the  proposal  which  I 
had  made  before  our  Petersburg  Lodge,  and  described  the  unfriendly 
reception  which  it  had  received" and  the  rupture  which  had  arisen  be- 
tween me  and  the  brethren.  losiph  Alekseyevitch  said  nothing  for  some 
little  time,  and  was  lost  in  thought;  then  he  expounded  his  views  in 
regard  to  the  whole  matter,  so  that  all  the  past  was  made  plain  to  me  as 
well  as  the  way  which  lay  stretched  out  before  my  feet.  He  surprised  me 
by  asking  if  I  remembered  the  threefold  object  of  the  Fraternity:  — 

( 1 )  The  conservation  and  study  of  the  mysteries. 

(2)  Self-purification  and  regeneration  so  as  to  be  able  to  receive  them; 
and 

(3)  The  regeneration  of  the  human  race  through  striving  aft«r  such 
purification. 

What  is  the  first  and  chief  of  these  aims?  Of  coarse  it  must  be  self- 
purification  and  regeneration.  Only  thereby  can  we  strive  and  make  our 
way  onward,  independent  of  all  circumst^uices.  But  at  the  same  time  this 
very  aim  constrains  us  to  the  most  arduous  labors,  and  often,  being  de- 
ceived by  our  pride,  we  lose  sight  of  this  aim,  and  strive  either  to  pene- 
trate the  mystery  which  we  are  incapable  of  accepting  on  account  of  its 
purity,  or  else  we  make  an  effort  toward  improving  humanity,  when  we 
merely  show  in  ourselves  an  example  of  turpitude  and  depravity.  *'  IDum- 
inism"  is  not  pure  doctrine,  precisely  for  the  reason  that  it  has  been 
carried  away  by  the  charms  of  social  activity  and  has  become  puffed  up 
with  pride.  From  this  standpoint,  losiph  Alekseyevitch  criticised  my 
discourse  and  all'  my  activity.  I  agreed  with  him  in  the  depths  of  my 
soul. 

During  the  course  of  our  conversation  we  touched  on  my  domestic 
troubles,  and  he  said  to  me:  *^The  chief  obligation  of  a  true  Mason,  as  1 
told  you  once  before,  consists  in  the  perfecting  of  self.  But  ofttimes  we 
imagine  that  if  we  were  freed  from  all  the  hardsliips  of  life,  we  should 
soon  attain  this  end;  on  the  contrary,  my  dear  sir,"  said  he,  **  only  in  the 
tumults  of  life  can  we  attain  the  three  chief  ends:  — 

**  ( 1 )  Self'knowledgef  for  a  man  can  learn  to  know  himself  only  throned 
comparison. 

"  (2)  Phfectiorif  which  Is  attained  only  by  battling,  and 

**  (3)  The  chief  virtue,  —  Love  of  death, 

'*  Only  the  vicissitudes  of  life  can  teach  us  its  falsity  and  stimulate  onr 
innate  love  of  death;  which  is,  in  other  words,  our  new  birth  into  another 
and  better  life." 

These  words  were  all  the  more  impressive  from  the  fact  that  losiph 
Alekseyevitch,  in  spite  of  his  severe  physical  sufferings,  has  never  felt  the 
burdens  of  this  life,  and  yet  he  loves  death,  though  in  spite  of  all  the 
purity  ami  loftiness  of  his  nature,  he  never  feels  that  he  is  as  yet  suffi- 
ciently prepared  for  it. 

Then  the  Benefactor  fully  explained  to  me  the  grand  Square  of  Creation 
and  demonstrate<l  that  the  numbers  three  and  seven  were  tlie  foundation 
of  all  other  things.  He  counselled  mc  to  avoid  a  breach  with  the  Peters- 
burg brethren,  to  take  upon  myself  only  the  obligations  of  the  second 
degree,  and  while  winning  the  brethren  away  from  the  dominion  of  jiride, 
to  strive  to  keep  them  on  the  straight  road  toward  self-knowledge  ami 
perfection.  Moreover,  he  advised  me,  al)ove  all  things,  to  keep  a  strict 
watch  over  myself,  and  for  this  purpose  he  gave  me  this  note-book,  in 
which  I  am  now  writing,  and  in  which  I  am  heuceforth  to  keep  an  ac- 
count of  all  my  actions. 


WAR  AND  PEACE,  181 

Pktrrsburo,  December  5. 
Again  I  am  living  with  my  wife.  My  mother-in-law,  with  tears  in  her 
eyes,  came  to  me  and  said  that  Ellen  was  back,  and  that  she  begged  me  to 
hear  her,  that  she  was  innocent,  that  she  was  unhappy  at  my  putting  her 
away,  and  many  such  things.  I  was  well  aware  that  if  I  once  allowed 
myself  to  see  her,  I  should  not  have  the  force  to  refuse  her  request.  In 
my  perplexity,  I  did  not  know  whose  help -and  advice  to  seek.  If  the 
Benefactor  had  been  here,  he  would  have  told  me.  I  shut  myself  up 
alone  in  my  room,  read  over  losiph  Alekseyevitch's  letters,  recalled  my 
conversations  with  him,  and,  taking  all  things  together,  I  came  to  the 
conclusion  that  I  had  no  right  to  refuse  her  reauest;  and  that  if  it  was 
my  duty  to  offer  the  hand  of  help  to  every  one,  all  the  more  was  it  to  a 
person  so  closely  united  to  me,  and  that  I  was  in  duty  bound  to  bear  uiy 
cross.  But  if  I  pardoned  her  for  the  sake  of  right-doing,  then  my  re-union 
with  her  must  have  merely. a  spiritual  end  and  aim.  And  thus  I  made  up 
my  mind,  and  thus  I  wrote  to  losiph  Alekseyevitch.  I  told  my  wife  that 
I  would  beg  her  to  forget  all  the  past,  that  I  would  beg  her  to  pardon  me 
for  anything  in  which  I  had  been  blameworthy  toward  her,  and  that 
I  had  nothing  to  foiigive.  It  was  a  pleasure  for  me  to  tell  her  that.  No 
need  for  her  to  know  how  trying  it  was  for  me  to  see  her  again.  I  have 
taken  up  my  abode  in  the  upper  rooms  of  the  great  mansion,  and  I 
rejoice  in  a  pleasant  sense  of  regeneration. 


CHAPTER  IX 

In  those  days,  as  has  always  been  the  case,  "high  society,*' 
which  met  at  court  and  at  the  fashionable  balls,  was  divided 
into  a  number  of  inner  circles,  each  having  its  own  distinctive 
peculiarities.  The  most  extensive  of  these  cliques  was  the 
"French  circle,"  based  on  the  Napoleonic  alliance,  and  led 
by  Count  Rumyantsof  and  Caulaincourt.  Ellen  immediately 
took  a  most  prominent  position  in  this  clique,  as  soon  as  she 
and  her  husband  resumed  their  residence  together  at  Peters- 
burg. Her  salon  was  frequented  by  the  gentlemen  of  the 
French  legation,  and  by  the  great  collection  of  people  dis- 
tinguished for  their  amiability  and  wit,  who  were  in  that 
"swim."  Ellen  had  been  at  Erfurt  at  the  time  of  the  notable 
meeting  between  the  emperors,  and  had  there  made  acquaint- 
ance of  all  the  Napoleonic  celebrities  of  Europe.  She  had 
enjoyed  a  most  brilliant  success.  Napoleon  himself  remarked 
her  presence  at  the  theatre,  and  said  of  her,  "  C^est  un  superbe 
animalJ^ 

Pierre  was  not  surprised  at  her  success,  as  far  as  beauty  and 
elegance  were  concerned,  because,  as  time  went  on,  she  grew 
more  beautiful  than  ever.  But  he  was  amazed  that  his  wife, 
in  the  course  of  two  short  years,  should  have  succeeded  in 


182  tVAk  AND  PS  ACE, 

acquiring  the  reputation  of  being  ^^une  femme  charmanUy 
aiissi  spirituelle  que  belle,^' 

The  distinguished  Prince  de  Ligne  wrote  her  eight-page 
letters.  Bilibin  treasured  up  his  witticisms  so  as  to  get  them 
off  for  the  first  time  at  the  Countess  Bezukhaya's.  To  be 
received  at  her  salon  was  regarded  as  equivalent  to  a  dit>loma 
of  wit  and  intelligence.  Young  men  read  books  previous  to 
making  their  appearance  there,  so  as  to  have  some  special 
subject  to  talk  about ;  and  the  secretaries  of  legation,  and  even 
the  ambassadors,  confided  diplomatic  secrets  to  her,  so  that 
Ellen  was  a  power  in  a  certain  way. 

Pierre,  who  knew  how  stupid  she  really  was,  had  a  strange 
feeling  of  perplexity  and  fear  when  he  appeared,  as  he  some- 
times did,  at  her  receptions  and  dinner  parties,  where  the 
conversation  ran  on  politics,  poetry,  and  philosophy.  On  such 
occasions,  he  experienced  a  feeling  such  as  a  juggler  must  have, 
who  is  all  the  time  afraid  lest  somehow  or  other  his  deception 
should  be  found  out.  But  either  because  stupidity  is  the  one 
thing  needful  in  the  management  of  such  a  salon,  or  because 
those  who  are  deceived  find  a  certain  amount  of  satisfaction 
in  the  deception  itself,  the  secret  was  not  betrayed,  and  Elena 
Vasilye vna  Bezukhaya's  reputation  of  being  une  femme  char- 
viante  et  spirituelle  was  so  firmly  established  that  she  could 
say  the  most  astonishing  trivialities  and  nonsense,  and  all 
professed  themselves  charmed  with  every  word  that  fell  from 
her  lips,  and  discovered  in  them  a  depth  of  thought  which  she 
herself  did  not  begin  to  suspect. 

Pierre  was  precisely  the  kind  of  a  husband  which  such  a 
brilliant  woman  of  the  world  ought  by  good  rights  to  have. 
He  was  a  queer,  absent-minded  fellow,  a  grand  seigneur  of  a 
husband,  interfering  with  no  one,  and  not  only  not  spoiling  the 
lofty  tone  proper  to  such  a  drawing-room,  but  serving  as  an 
admirable  background,  against  which  to  display  his  wife's 
elegance  and  tact. 

Pierre,  during  these  two  years,  —  in  consequence  of  perpetu- 
ally concentrating  his  mind  on  transcendental  interests,  and 
of  his  genuine  contempt  for  all  things  else,  —  assumed  in  the, 
to  him  uninteresting,  society  which  his  wife  gathered  round  her, 
that  tone  of  abstraction  and  absent-mindedness,  combined  with 
aflFability  toward  all,  which  cannot  be  acquired  by  art,  and 
which  somehow  commanded  involuntary  resj)ect.  He  walked 
into  his  wife's  drawing-room  as  though  it  were  the  theatre ;  he 
knew  every  one,  toward  all  he  was  eciually  cordial  and  equally 
reserved.      Sometimes  he  joined   in  the  conversation  if  it 


WAk  AND  PteACE,  183 

interested  him,  and  then  he  blurted  out  bis  opinions  with  that 
thick  utterance  of  his,  regardless  of  the  inappropriateness  of 
his  ideas,  or  the  presence  of  les  messieurs  de  Vavibassade.  But 
it  was  a  foregone  conclusion  in  regard  to  "  that  queer  husband  " 
de  lafemme  la  plus  distinguee  de  Petersbourg,  that  no  one  should 
take  his  idiosyncrasies  seriously. 

Among  the  young  men  who  daily  frequented  Ellen's  society 
after  her  return  from  Erfurt,  Boris  Drubetskoi,  who  was  now 
on  the  high  road  to  success  in  the  service,  was  the  most 
assiduous  in  his  visitations  at  the  Beznkhois.  Ellen  called  him 
mon  page,  and  treated  him  as  though  he  were  a  boy.  The 
smiles  that  she  gave  him  were  just  like  those  that  she 
showered  upon  everybody  else,  but  occasionally  Pierre  had  an 
unpleasant  feeling  at  the  sight  of  it. 

Boris  treated  Pierre  with  a  peculiar  and  rather  grave 
deference,  that  was  perfectly  proper.  This  shade  of  deference 
also  disquieted  Pierre.  He  had  suffered  so  keenly  three 
years  before  from  the  affront  that  his  wife  had  put  upon  him, 
that  now  he  saved  himself  from  the  possibility  of  a  repetition 
of  it,  in  the  first  place,  by  renouncing  the  idea  of  being  his 
wife's  husband,  and  in  the  second  place,  by  not  allowing  a 
suspicion  of  her  to  enter  his  head. 

"  No,  now  that  she  has  become  a  has  bleu,  a  blue  stocking, 
she  will  never  be  troubled  again  with  such  temptations,"  he 
would  say  to  himself.  "  There  is  no  example  of  a  bas  bleu 
having  love  affairs,"  he  would  assure  himself,  as  though  it  were 
an  axiom  in  which  he  had  no  question,  though  he  could  not 
have  told  where  he  obtained  it. 

But,  strangely  enough,  Boris's  presence  in  his  wife's  draw- 
ing-room —  and  he  was  there  almost  constantly  —  affected  him 
physically :  it  seemed  to  paralyze  all  of  his  limbs,  to  waken 
all  his  self-consciousness,  and  take  away  his  freedom  of 
motion. 

"  Such  a  strange  antipathy,"  thought  Pierre,  "  and  yet  he 
used  to  please  me  very  much." 

In  the  eyes  of  the  world,  Pierre  was  a  great  barin,  the  some- 
what blinded  and  ridiculous  husband  of  a  distinguished  wife, 
a  queer  genius,  who  accomplished  nothing,  did  no  one  any 
harm,  and  was  on  the  whole  a  very  fine  and  good  young  man. 
But  in  the  depths  of  Pierre's  soul,  during  all  this  time,  there 
was  going  on  the  complicated  and  arduous  labor  of  internal 
development,  which  brought  him  into  the  knowledge  of  many 
secrets-,  and  made  him  pass  through  many  joys  and  many 
doubts. 


184  WAR  AND  PEACE, 


CHAPTER  X. 

He  continued  bis  diary,  and  here  are  some  eztraets  from 
what  he  wrote  at  that  time :  — 

December  6.  —  Rose  at  eight  o'clock,  read  in  the  Gospels^  then  went 
to  a  committee  meeting  — 

Pierre,  by  his  Benefactor's  advice,  had  entered  the  service 
as  a  member  of  one  of  the  committees. 

Came  back  to  dinner,  dined  alone  (the  Conntess  had  many  guests,  who 
were  disagreeable  to  me),  ate  and  drank  moderately,  and  after  dinner 
copied  some  docwnents  for  the  brethren.    In  the  afternoon  I  went  down 

to  the  drawing-room  and  related  a  ludicrous  story  about  B ,  and 

only  when  it  was  too  late,  and  eversrbody  laughing  heartily,  did  I  remember 
that  I  should  not  have  done  so. 

Went  to  bed  in  a  happy  and  contented  frame  of  mind. 

Almighty  Lord  I  help  me  to  walk  in  thy  paths  I 

(1)  To  conquer  angry  passions  by  gentleness  and  moderation. 

(2)  Carnal  desires  by  self-restraint  and  aversion. 

(3)  To  shun  vanity,  but  not  to  shut  myself  off  from  (a)  the  conditions 
of  service  of  the  State;  (b)  from  family  affairs;  (c)  from  dealings  with 
friends;  (d)  and  from  domestic  economy. 

December  7.  — Arose  late,  and  after  I  woke  up  lay  for  a  long  time 
indulging  in  slothfulness.  My  God!  help  me  and  strengthen  me,  so  that 
1  may  walk  in  thy  ways.  Read  the  Holy  Grospels,  but  without  the  proper 
feeling.  Brother  Urusof  came  ;  we  talked  about  the  vanities  of  the 
world.  Told  about  the  Emperor's  new  plans.  I  began  to  criticise  them 
but  remembered  our  regulations,  and  the  words  of  the  Benefactor  in 
regard  to  the  obligations  of  a  genuine  Mason,  —  to  be  a  zealous  worker  in 
the  government  when  his  services  are  required,  and  a  calm  observer  of 

what  he  cannot  approve.    My  tongue  is  my  enemy.    Brothers  6.  V 

and  O came  to  see  me;  it  was  a  meeting  preparatory  to  the  initiation 

of  a  new  brother.  They  insisted  upon  clothing  me  with  the  office  of 
Rhetor.     I  feel  myself  weak  and  incompetent. 

Then  the  conversation  turned  on  the  significance  of  the  seven  pillars 
and  seven  steps  of  the  Temple.  Seven  sciences,  seven  virtues,  seven  sins, 
seven  gifts  of -the  Holy  Spirit.    Brother  O was  very  eloquent. 

The  initiation  took  place  in  the  evening.  The  new  arrangement  of  the 
Lodge  room  made  a  magnificent  spectacle.  Boris  Drubetskoi  was  the 
adept.  I  was  his  sponsor,  and  I  was  also  Rhetor.  A  strange  feeling 
agitated  me  while  1  was  with  him  in  the  dark  room.  I  detected  in  myvlf 
a  feeling  of  hatred  toward  him,  which  I  vainly  strove  to  overoome.  And 
I  should  wish  really  to  save  him  from  evil  and  win  him  over  to  the  side  of 
truth,  but  hard  thoughts  about  him  arose  in  my  mind.  It  seemed  to  lue 
that  his  sole  aim  in  joining  the  Fraternity  was,  that  he  might  get  into 
closer  relations  with  certain  men,  creep  into  favor  with  thosi*  who  belong 


X 


WAtt  AMD  PEACE.  186 

to  onr  Lodge.      Besides,  the  fact  that  he  has  seveml  times  asked  me 

whether  N or  8—  belonged  to  our  Lodge  —  which  I  ooald  not 

aaswer  htm — beside  the  fact  that,  from  my  observation  of  him,  he  is  not 
qualified  to  feel  proper  reverence  for  our  Holy  Order  and  is  too  much 
occupied  and  content  with  tlie  external  man  to  desire  the  improvement 
of  the  spiritual,  I  had  no  grounds  to  base  my  objections  upon :  but  he 
seemed  to  me  insincere,  and  all  the  time  that  I  was  alone  with  him  in  the 
dark  chamber,  It  seemed  to  me  that  he  was  scornfully  smiling  at  my  words, 
and  I  had  a  strong  temptation  really  to  pierce  him  with  the  sword  which 
I  held  at  his  bared  breast.  I  could  not  speak  with  any  fluency,  and  I 
could  not  frankly  confess  my  doubts  to  the  brethren  and  the  Grand  Master. 
May  the  Great  Architect  of  the  Universe  aid  me  to  find  the  true  way 
which  lc«ds  from  the  labyrinth  of  lies! 

After  that  there  was  a  gap  of  three  pages  in  the  diary,  and 
then  came  what  follows  :  — 

Had  an  instructive  and  long  talk  to-day  with  brother  V who  advised 

me  to  hold  fast  by  brother  A .     Many  things  were  revealed  to  me, 

though  I  am  so  unworthy.  Adonai  is  the  name  of  the  creator  of  the  world  I 
Elohim  is  the  name  of  the  One  who  directs  the  universe.   The  third  name, 

the  unspeakable  name,  means  the  All.    These  talks  with  Brother  V 

strengUien  me,  enlighten  me,  and  confirm  my  feet  in  the  path  of  virtue. 
In  his  presence  there  is  no  chance  for  doubt.  How  clear  to  mv  mind  is 
the  distinction  between  the  wretched  knowledge  of  the  general  sciences 
and  onr  sacred,  all-embracing  science  I  Human  science  constantly  sub- 
divides, so  as  to  grasp ;  constantly  destroys,  so  as  to  scrutinize.  In  the  holy 
science  of  our  Brotherhood,  everything  is  co-ordinated,  everything  is 
recognized  by  its  unity  and  its  life.  The  Trinity  is  the  three  primoidial 
elements  of  all  thin^ — sulphur,  mercury,  and  salt.  Sulphur  has  an  unc- 
tioQS  and  fiery  quality;  taken  in  conjunction  with  salt,  its  fiery  nature 
arouses  a  longing  in  it,  by  means  of  which  mercury  is  attracted,  seizes  it, 
and  thereby  ari^  various  bodies.  Mercury  is  the  living  and  volatile, 
spiritual  being,  —  Christ,  the  Holy  Spirit,  Be. 

Dbcembbr  15.  — Awoke  late,  read  the  Holy  Gospels,  but  without  beine 
stirred.  Afterward,  I  went  out  and  walked  up  and  down  the  hall.  Tried 
to  think,  but  instead  my  imagination  brousht  up  an  occuirence  that  hap- 
pened four  years  ago.  After  our  duel,  Mr.  Dolokhof  and  I  met  in  Moscow, 
and  he  said  that  he  hoped  that  I  was  now  enjoying  complete  peace  of 
mind,  in  spite  of  the  absence  of  my  wife.  At  that  time  I  made  him  no 
answer.  Now  I  recalled  all  the  circumstances  in  my  heart  of  hearts, 
reviling  him  with  the  most  angry  words  and  the  most  cutting  sarcasms. 
I  came  to  my  senses  and  banbhed  this  thought  only  when  I  found  myself 
stirred  up  to  wrath;  but  I  have  sufficiently  repented  of  this. 

After  this,  Boris  Drubetskoi  came  in  and  began  to  relate  his  various 
**  ail  ventures."  From  the  first  instant,  I  was  annoyed  at  his  visit,  and 
contradicted  him.  He  retorted.  I  grew  angry,  and  said  a  great  many  dis- 
agreeable and  even  hateful  things.  He  said  no  more,  and  I  recollected 
myself  only  when  it  was  too  late.  My  God !  I  cannot  tell  at  all  how  to 
treat  him.  The  cause  of  this  is  my  self-conceit.  I  regard  myself  as  superior 
to  him,  and  consequently  I  behave  a  thousand  times  worse  than  he  does, 
since  he  condones  my  rude  behavior,  while  1  feel  nothing  but  contempt 
for  him.  My  God!  enable  me  in  his  presence  better  to  realize  my  own 
shortcomings,  and  so  to  order  my  life  that  he  too  may  find  advantage  in 


186  WAR  AND  PSACe. 

iL  After  dinner  I  had  a  nap,  and  while  I  was  going  to  sleep  I  disdiictly 
beard  a  voice  saying  in  my  left  ear,  **  Thine  is  tlie  day." 

It  seemed  to  me  in  my  dream  that  I  was  walking  in  darkness,  and  sud- 
denly I  was  surroimded  by  dogs;  but  I  proceeded  without  fear ;  suddenly, 
one  small  one  seized  me  by  the  left  thigh,  and  did  not  let  go.  I  tried  to 
throttle  him.  And  I  had  just  succeeded  in  getting  rid  of  him,  when 
another,  still  larger,  began  to  snap  at  me.  I  tried  to  lift  him  up,  and  the 
higher  I  lifted  him,  the  larger  and  heavier  he  grew.  And  suddenly,  BrotlNir 

A came  along,  and,  taking  me  by  the  arm,  drew  me  with  him,  and 

brought  me  to  an  edifice,  to  enter  which  it  was  necessary  to  cross  a  narrow 
plank.  I  stepped  upon  it,  and  the  plank  tipped  and  fell,  and  I  tried  to 
climb  the  fence,  the  top  of  which  I  could  hardly  reach  by  stretching  up 
my  arms.  At  last,  after  excessive  efforts,  I  climbed  up  in  such  a  way  that 
my  legs  were  on  one  side  and  my  body  on  the  other.  I  managed  to  look 
around,  and  saw  that  Brother  A was  standing  on  the  fence  and  di- 
recting my  attention  to  a  great  alley  and  garden,  and  wiUiin  the  garden 
was  a  large  and  beautiful  edifice. 

Then  I  woke  up. 

Lord,  mighty  Architect  of  Nature!  help  me  to  defend  myself  from  the 
dogs  —  my  passions  —  and  from  the  last  of  them,  who  united  in  h*in<y*if 
the  strength  of  all  the  others,  and  aid  me  to  enter  that  temple  of  virtue, 
the  sight  of  which  I  attained  in  my  vision. 

Decembkr  17.  —  In  a  vision,  it  seemed  to  me  that  losiph  AlekaeyeviU^ 
was  sitting  in  my  house,  and  I  felt  very  glad,  and  was  anxious  to  entertain 
him. 

It  seemed  to  me  that  I  went  on  chatting  irrelevantly,  and  suddenly  re- 
membered that  this  would  not  be  pleasing  to  him,  and  I  felt  anxious  to  ap- 
proach him  and  embrace  him.  Butas  soon  as  I  came  close  to  him,  I  saw  that 
his  face  was  transfigured ;  he  appeared  youthful,  and  in  a  low  tone  repeated 
something  from  the  teachings  of  the  Order;  so  low,  in  fact,  that  I  could 
not  understand  what  he  said.  Then  we  seemed  all  to  leave  the  room, 
and  a  marvellous  thing  occurred. 

We  were  sitting  or  lying  on  the  floor.  The  Benefactor  said  something 
to  me.  And  I  seemed  to  oe  anxious  to  manifest  my  tenderness  toward 
him,  and  without  listening  to  his  discourse,  I  tried  to  realize  the  condition 
of  my  inner  man,  and  the  mercy  of  God,  which  had  overshadoa*ed  me. 
And  the  tears  stood  in  mv  eyes,  and  I  was  glad  that  he  noticed  it  But 
he  glanced  at  me  with  a  look  of  annoyance,  and  sprang  up,  brealdng  off 
his  discourse.  I  was  crestfallen,  and  asked  if  what  he  hsid  said  applied 
especially  to  me;  but  he  made  no  reply;  then  he  turned  a  benignant  face 
upon  me,  and  immediately  we  seemed  to  be  in  my  sleeping^room.  And  he 
asked  me,  **  Tell  me  honestly  what  is  your  strongest  temptation?  Haven't 
you  ever  told  me?    It  seems  to  me  that  you  have." 

I  was  mortified  at  his  question,  and  replied  that  sloth  was  my  chief  sin. 
He  shook  his  head  incredulously,  and  I  seemed  to  be  still  more  confused, 
and  replied  that  though  I  lived  with  my  wife,  as  he  had  advised,  still,  I 
did  not  love  her.  To  this  he  replied  that  a  man  ought  not  to  deprive  his 
wife  of  the  affection  which  was  her  due,  and  gave  me  to  feel  that  this  was 
an  obligation.  But  I  replied  that  I  was  ashamed  to  begin  now,  and  sud- 
denly everything  vanished. 

When  I  awoke,  I  found  myiM^lf  repeating  the  text  of  Holy  Writ:  **  And 
the  life  was  the  li<;ht  of  men,  and  the  light  shineth  in  darkness,  and  the 
darkness  comprehended  it  not." 

losiph  Alekseyevitch's  face  was  youthful  and  bright.  On  that  very 
same  day  I  received  a  letter  from  the  Benefactor,  in  which  he  wrote  <^  the 
obligations  of  the  married  state. 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  187 

December  21.  —  I  had  a  dream  from  which  I  awoke  with  a  throbbing 
heart  I  seemed  to  be  in  my  own  mansion  in  Moscow,  in  the  great  divan- 
room,  and  losiph  Alekseyevitch  seemed  to  be  coming  out  of  the  dining- 
room.  And  I  immediately  saw  that  a  strange  change  had  talten  place  in 
him,  and  I  hastened  to  meet  him.  And  it  seemed  to  me  that  I  kissed  liis 
cheek  and  his  hand,  and  he  said, — 

"  Have  you  noticed  that  my  face  looks  different  ?  "  I  gazed  at  him 
while  still  holding  him  in  my  embrace,  and  it  seemed  to  me  that  his  face 
was  youthful,  but  there  was  no  hair  on  his  head,  and  his  features  were 
greatly  altered.  And  it  seemed  to  me  that  I  replied,  ''I  should  have 
known  you  had  I  met  you  anvwhere,"  and  at  the  same  time,  I  ask  nivself , 
"Am  I  telling  the  strict  truth  ?"  and  suddenly  I  see  that  he  has  fallen 

I       like  a  corpse;  then  he  gradually  came  to  his  senses,  and  went  with  me 
into  the  great  library,  holding  a  great  parchment  book  in  manuscript. 

i       And  he  seemed  to  say,  *^  This  1  have  written." 

And  he  gave  it  to  me  with  a  low  bow.  I  opened  the  book,  and  on  all 
the  pages  of  this  book  were  exquisite  illustrations.  And  it  seemed  to  me 
that  I  recognized  that  these  pictures  represented  the  adventures  of  the 
soul  with  her  beloved.  And  among  them  1  seemed  to  see  one  represent- 
ing a  beautiful  damsel  flying  through  the  clouds  in  diaphanous  raiment, 
and  with  a  transparent  body.  And  I  seemed  to  be  aware  that  this  dam- 
sel illustrated  the  Song  of  Songs.  And  as  I  looked  at  these  pictures,  it 
seemed  to  me  that  I  was  doing  wrong,  and  yet  I  could  not  tear  myself 
away.  Lord,  aid  me!  My  God,  if  this.  Thy  abandonment  of  me,  is  Thy 
work,  then  Thy  will  be  done.  But  if  I  myself  am  to  blame,  then  teach 
me  what  I  most  do.  I  must  perish  in  my  own  corruption,  if  Thou  wholly 
abandonest  me! 


CHAPTER  XI. 

The  Bostofs'  financial  affairs  had  not  improved  in  the 
course  of  the  two  years  while  they  had  been  living  wholly 
in  the  country. 

Although  Nikolai  had  persistently  kept  to  his  resolre^  and 
eontinued  to  serve  in  an  obscure  regiment,  where  he  had  no 
ehance  of  advancement,  and  therefore  spent  comparatively 
little  money,  still,  the  scale  of  life  at  Otradnoye  was  so  large, 
and,  above  all,  Mitenka's  management  was  so  bad,  that  the 
debts  rolled  up  more  and  more  each  year.  The  old  count 
evidently  saw  but  one  means  of  relief,  —  that  was  a  govern- 
ment employment,  and  he  went  to  Petersburg  to  get  a  situation, 
and  at  the  same  time,  as  he  expressed  it,  to  give  the  girls  one 
last  season's  amusement 

Shortly  after  the  Rostofs  reached  Petersburg,  Berg  had 
proposed  for  Viera,  and  his  proposal  had  been  accepted. 

In  spite  of  the  fact  that  m  Moscow  the  Rostofs  moved  in 
the  highest  society,  without  thinking  or  inquiring  what  the 
society  was  to  which  they  belonged,  they  found  in  Petersburg 


188  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

that  their  position  was  somewhat  irregular  and  unsettled.  In 
Petersburg  they  were  regarded  as  rather  ridiculous  provincials, 
and  many  people  who  had  accepted  their  hospitality  at  Moscow 
without  question,  now  did  not  deign  to  notice  them. 

The  Rostofs  entertained  as  freely  at  Petersburg  as  they  had 
done  at  Moscow,  and  their  dinners  were  shared  by  a  most 
heterogeneous  conglomeration  of  individuals;  for  example, 
some  of  their  neighbors  at  Otradnoye,  landed  proprietors  of 
good  standing,  but  not  rich,  and  their  daughters  and  SLfrStlina 
Peronskaya,  Pierre  Bezukhoi,  and  the  son  of  their  district 
postmaster,  who  had  a  government  appointment  at  Peters- 
burg. Among  the  men  who  were  on  a  footing  of  familiarity 
at  the  Rostofs  were  Boris;  Pierre,  whom  the  old  count  had 
met  on  the  street  one  day  and  brought  home  with  him  ;  and 
Berg,  who  spent  whole  days  at  the  Rostofs,  and  showed  the 
Countess  Viera  those  attentions  which  every  young  man  is 
expected  to  show  on  the  eve  of  a  proposal. 

It  was  not  without  effect  that  Berg  had  shown  every  one 
the  arm  wounded  at  Austerlitz,  and  affected  to  hold  his  wnolly 
unnecessary  sword  in  his  left  hand.  He  described  the  occur- 
rence so  persistently,  and  made  it  a  matter  of  such  grave 
importance,  that  all  came  to  believe  in  the  genuineness  and 
merit  of  his  action,  and  Berg  received  two  rewards  after 
Austerlitz. 

In  the  campaign  in  Finland,  he  had  also  succeeded  in  dis- 
tinguishing himself.  He  picked  up  a  fragment  of  shell  which 
had  just  killed  one  of  the  general-in-chief's  aides,  and  carried 
this  fragment  to  the  chief.  And  in  exactly  the  same  way  as 
after  Austerlitz,  he  persisted  in  giving  every  one  such  detailed 
accounts  of  his  behavior,  that  all  came  finally  to  believe  with 
him  that  this  must  have  taken  place  also ;  and  again,  after 
the  war  in  Finland,  he  received  two  rewards.  In  1809  he  was 
already  captain  of  the  Guard,  and  held  a  most  advantageous 
place  in  Petersburg. 

Though  there  were  some  sceptics  who  smiled  significantlj 
when  Berg's  merits  were  spoken  of  in  their  presence,  it  was 
impossible  not  to  admit  that  Berg  was  a  strict,  brave  oflScer, 
of  excellent  standing  at  headquarters,  and  a  highly  moral 
young  man,  with  a  brilliant  career  before  him,  and  already 
enjoying  an  exceptional  position  in  society. 

Four  years  before,  Berg  happening  to  fall  in  with  a  comrade, 
also  a  German,  in  the  parterre  of  one  of  the  Moscow  theatres, 
had  called  his  attention  to  Viera  Rostova,  and  said  in  German, 
"  Das  $oll  mein   Weib  warden  —  She  is  to  be  my  wife,"  and 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  189 

from  that  moment  he  had  laid  his  plans  to  marry  her.  Now 
that  they  were  in  Petersburg  together,  he  compared  his  own 
position  with  the  Bostofs',  and  came  to  the  conclusion  that  his 
time  had  come,  and  he  proposed. 

Berg's  proposal  was  received  at  first  with  a  surprise  that 
was  anything  but  flattering  to  him.  It  seemed  at  first  thought 
strange  that  the  son  of  an  obscure  country  nobleman  should 
offer  himself  to  a  Countess  Bostova !  But  one  of  Berg's  most 
characteristic  traits  was  such  a  natve  and  good-natured  ego- 
tism,  that  the  Rostofs  soon  came  involuntarily  to  feel  that  it 
must  be  an  excellent  thing,  if  he  himself  were  so  anxious  about 
it ;  and  it  kept  presenting  itself  before  them  in  a  more  and 
more  favorable  light.  Moreover,  the  Rostofs'  affairs  were  in 
a  greatly  shattered  condition,  so  that  there  was  little  attrac- 
tion for  wooers ;  and  worse  than  all,  Viera  was  already  twenty- 
four,  and  although  she  had  been  everywhere,  and  was  undoubt- 
edly a  pretty  and  attractive  girl,  she  had  never  before  received 
an  offer.     So  the  consent  was  granted. 

"Now  you  see,"  said  Berg  to  a  comrade  whom  he  called  his 
"friend,"  simply  because  he  knew  that  it  was  fashionable  for 
men  to  have  friends,  "  you  see  I  have  weighed  it  all  carefully, 
and  I  should  not  think  of  marrying  if  I  had  not  arranged 
everything,  or  if  it  interfered  with  any  one.  But  now,  on  the 
contranr,  my  papenka  and  mamenka  are  secure.  I  have  got 
them  tnat  usufruct  estate  on  the  Baltic  frontier,  and  I  can 
live  in  Petersburg  on  my  salary,  together  with  what  comes 
from  her  estate,  for  I  am  careful  and  economical.  We  can 
live  very  well.  I  don't  marry  her  for  her  money ;  I  don't 
call  that  sort  of  thing  honorable,  but  it's  no  more  than  fair 
for  the  wife  to  contribute  her  portion  and  the  husband  his.  I 
have  my  appointment;  she,  her  connections  and  her  little 
property.  Tnat's  something  in  these  days,  isn't  it  ?  But, 
best  of  all,  she  is  a  jewel  of  a  girl,  and  she  loves  me." 

Berg  reddened,  and  added  with  a  smile,  "  And  I  love  her 
because  her  character  is  well-balanced — very  admirable.  Now 
there's  her  sister,  the  same  family,  but  a  very  different  person 
— a  most  disagreeable  character,  and  no  sense  at  all,  and  that 
kind  of  thing,  you  know  —  disagreeable.  But  my  affianced  — 
well,  you'll  have  a  chance  to  see  her,"  continued  Berg.  He 
had  it  in  mind  to  say,  "  You  will  dine  with  us  some  day,"  but 
he  saved  himself,  and  said,  "You  will  take  tea  with  us,"  and 
doubling  up  his  tongue  he  deftly  sent  forth  a  little  ring  of 
tobacco-smoke,  absolutely  typical  of  his  dreams  of  happiness. 

After  the  first  feeling  of  dissatisfaction,  which  Viera's  par- 


190  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

ents  felt  at  Berg's  proposal,  the  festivity  and  happiness  usual 
in  such  circumstances  were  redoubled,  but  the  joy  was  not 
genuine ;  it  was  artificial.  The  relatives  confessed  to  mixed 
feelings  of  perplexity  and  shaine.  There  was  an  undercurrent 
of  regret  that  they  had  never  been  quite  fond  of  Viera,  and 
that  they  were  now  only  too  glad  to  get  her  off  their  hands. 
The  old  count,  most  of  all,  was  perplexed.  He  probably  would 
not  have  been  able  to  tell  what  caused  him  this  perplexity, 
but  the  real  cause  of  it  was  his  finances.  He  really  did  not 
know  how  he  stood  or  how  much  he  owed,  and  what  he 
should  be  able  to  give  as  Viera's  dowry.  When  the  daughters 
were  born,  each  had  received  as  a  portion  about  three  hundred 
"  souls ; "  but  one  of  these  estates  had  been  already  sold,  and 
the  other  was  mortgaged,  and  the  payments  were  so  behind- 
hand that  it  was  bound  to  be  foreclosed,  and  therefore  could 
not  be  granted  as  a  dower.  Nor  was  there  any  money  to 
spare. 

Berg  had  already  been  the  accepted  bridegroom  for  more 
than  a  month,  and  only  a  week  remained  b^ore  the  wedding, 
and  still  the  count  had  not  been  able  to  face  the  dreaded  ques- 
tion of  the  dowry,  and  had  not  broached  the  subject  to  his 
wife.  At  one  time,  the  count  thought  of  giving  Viera  his  Bia- 
zan  property  ;  at  another,  of  selling  a  forest ;  then  of  raising 
money  on  a  note. 

One  morning,  a  few  days  before  the  wedding.  Berg  came 
early  to  the  count's  private  room,  and  with  a  pleasant  smile 
respectfully  asked  his  future  father-in-law  what  he  was  going 
to  give  as  the  Countess  Viera's  marriage  portion.  The  count 
was  so  confused  at  this  long-anticipated  question  that  he 
answered  at  haphazard  whatever  first  came  into  his  head. 

"  I  like  it  in  you  that  you  are  careful,  I  like  it ;  you  shall  be 
satisfied." 

And  patting  Berg  on  his  shoulder,* he  got  up,  thinking  to 
put  an  end  to  the  matter.  But  Berg,  still  smiling  pleasantly, 
explained  that  unless  he  could  know  definitely  what  would  be 
Viera's  dowry,  and  unless  a  portion  of  it,  at  least,  were  pwd 
over  beforehand,  he  should  be  under  the  necessity  of  withdiaw- 
ing  from  the  offer. 

"  You  will  certainly  agree  with  me,  count,  that  if  I  should 
permit  myself  to  enter  the  marriage  relation  without  having  a 
definite  knowledge  of  what  means  I  shall  have  for  the  main- 
tenance of  my  wife,  I  should  be  acting  abom  "  — 

The  conversation  ended  by  the  count,  who  wished  to  appear 
generouS;  and  also  to  avoid  future  demands,  saying  that  be 


r 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  191 

would  g^ve  him  a  note  for  eighty  thousand  rubles.  Berg, 
sweetly  smiling,  kissed  him  on  the  shoulder,  and  declared  that 
he  was  very  grateful,  but  that  he  could  never  make  himself 
ready  for  his  new  life  unless  he  had  thirty  thousand  in  ready 
cash.  "  Or  only  twenty  thousand  would  do,  count,"  he  added. 
"  And  in  that  case,  the  note  would  be  for  only  sixty  thousand." 
"  Well,  very  good,"  said  the  count  hastily.  "  Only  you  will 
allow  me,  my  dear  fellow,  to  give  you  the  twenty  thousand, 
and  the  note  for  eighty  thousand  beside.  That's  the  way  we'll 
do  it !  kiss  me !  " 


CHAPTER  Xn. 

Natasha  was  now  sixteen,  and  the  year  1809  was  the  very 
one  to  which  she  had  counted  up  on  her  fingers  four  years  be- 
fore, at  the  time  when  she  and  Boris  had  exchanged  kisses. 
Since  that  time  she  had  not  once  seen  Boris.  Before  Sonya, 
and  always  with  her  mother,  when  Boris  was  mentioned,  she 
had  freely  declared  that  all  that  had  gone  before  was  child- 
ish nonsense ;  as  though  it  were  a  settled  matter,  of  which 
there  was  no  use  talking,  and  long  ago  forgotten.  But  in  the 
deepest  depths  of  her  heart,  she  was  tormented  by  the  question 
whether  the  promise  that  bound  her  to  Boris  was  to  be  con- 
sidered in  jest  or  in  earnest. 

From  the  very  time  when  Boris  had  first  gone  to  join  the 
army,  he  had  not  s^en  any  of  the  Rostofs.  He  had  been  at 
Moscow  several  times,  and  had  passed  not  very  far  from  Otrad- 
noye,  but  not  once  had  he  been  to  see  his  old  friends. 

Natasha  had  several  times  wondered  why  he  had  never  been 
near  them,  and  her  surmises  had  been  strengthened  by  the 
melancholy  tone  in  which  her  elders  spoke  of  him. 

'^In  these  degenerate  days,  old  friends  are  easily  forgotten," 
said  the  countess,  more  than  once,  when  Boris  had  been  men- 
tioned. 

Anna  Mikhailovna  had  also  been  more  rarely  of  late  at  the 
Eostofs' ;  she  seemed  to  hold  herself  especially  on  her  dignity, 
and  always  spoke  enthusiastically  and  boastfully  of  her  son's 
merits,  and  the  glittering  career  which  he  was  now  pursuing. 
When  the  Rostofs  came  to  Petersburg,  Boris  came  to  call 
upon  them. 

The  thought  of  meeting  with  them  was  not  without  emotion. 
His  romance  with  Natasha  was  the  most  poetical  recollection 
that  he  had  of  his  youth.     But  at  the  same  time  he  went  there 


192  WAR   AND   PEACE, 

with  a  firm  determination  to  give  both  her  and .  her  parents 
clearly  to  understand  that  those  youthful  relations  between 
him  and  Natasha  could  not  be  considered  binding  upon  either 
of  them.  He  had  a  brilliant  position  in  society,  thanks  to  his 
intimacy  with  the  Countess  Bezukhaya,  a  brilliant  position  in 
the  service,  thanks  to  the  patronage  of  an  eminent  individual, 
whose  confidence  he  fully  enjoyed,  and  he  had  now  fully  elab- 
orated plans  for  making  a  marriage  with  one  of  the  wealthiest 
heiresses  in  Petersburg,  which,  indeed,  he  might  very  easily 
do. 

When  Boris  reached  the  llostofs',  Natasha  was  in  her  room. 
When  she  was  informed  of  his  presence,  she  went  to  the  draw- 
ing-room almost  on  a  run,  blushing  and  beaming  with  a  more 
than  gracious  smile. 

Boris  remembered  Natasha  as  a  little  girl,  who  wore  a  short 
dress,  and  had  dark,  flashing  eyes  under  her  bangs,  and  with  a 
wild,  merry  laugh.  That  was  just  as  he  had  last  seen  her, 
four  years  before  ;  and  consequently,  when  an  entirely  differ- 
ent Natasha  came  into  the  room,  he  was  taken  aback,  and  his 
face  expressed  solemn  amazement.  This  expression  on  his  face 
was  a  triumph  for  Natasha. 

"  Well,  would  you  have  known  your  mischievous  little  play- 
mate ? "  asked  the  countess.  Boris  kissed  Natasha's  hand, 
and  said  that  he  noticed  a  great  change  in  her. 

"  How  handsome  you  have  grown  ! " 

"  Why  shouldn't  I  ?  "  replied  Natasha's  laughing  eyes. 

"  Don't  you  think  that  papa  seems  much  older  ?  "  she  asked. 

Natasha  sat  there,  listening  to  the  conversation  between 
Boris  and  the  countess,  and  silently  studying  the  husband  of 
her  childhood's  ideal,  even  to  the  minutest  particulars.  Boris 
was  conscious  of  her  steady  and  affectionate  gaze  fixed  upon 
him,  and  occasionally  he  stole  a  glance  at  her. 

His  uniform,  his  spurs,  his  cravat,  the  cut  of  his  hair,  all 
were  most  fashionable  and  comme  ilfaiU,  Natasha  instantly 
noticed  this.  He  sat  somewhat  toward  the  edge  of  the  easy- 
chair,  nearest  the  countess,  with  his  right  hand  smoothing  the 
immaculate,  neat-fitting  glove  that  he  wore  on  his  left,  and  he 
spoke,  with  a  peculiarly  delicate  compression  of  the  lips,  about 
the  gayeties  of  Petersburg  high  life,  and  he  treated  the  old 
times  in  Moscow,  and  his  Moscow  acquaintances,  with  a  gentle 
irony.  It  was  not  without  design,  Natasha  felt  sure,  lie  men- 
tioned the  names  of  the  highest  aristocracy,  whom  he  had  met 
at  the  ball  of  the  ambassadors,  or  his  invitations  to  the  N. 
N.'s  and  the  S.  S.'s. 


WAR   AND  PEACE.  193 

Natasha  sat  silent  all  the  time,  looking  askance  at  him. 
This  glance  of  hers  confused  and  troubled  Boris  more  and  more. 
He  kept  turning  frequently  toward  her,  and  stumbling  in  the 
midst  of  his  stones.  He  did  not  stay  more  than  ten  minutes, 
and  then  got  up  to  take  his  leave.  AH  the  time  those  keen 
eyes,  full  of  mockery,  looked  at  him  with  a  peculiar  challen- 
ging expression. 

After  this  first  visit  of  his,  Boris  confessed  to  himself  that 
Katasha  was  just  as  fascinating  as  ever,  but  that  it  was  his 
duty  to  renounce  this  feeling,  because  to  marry  her,  an  almost 
dowerless  maiden,  would  be  the  ruin  of  his  career,  and  the  re- 
newal of  their  former  friendship  without  intention  of  marry- 
ing her  would  be  an  ungrateful  trick.  Boris  resolved  in  his 
own  mind  to  avoid  meeting  Natasha,  but,  notwithstanding  this 
resolution,  he  w^ent  again  in  a  few  days,  and  kept  going  more 
and  more  frequently,  and  at  last  spent  whole  days  at  the  Ros- 
tofs'.  He  kept  trying  to  persuade  himself  that  he  would  soon 
have  a  chance  to  come  to  an  explanation  with  Natasha,  and 
tell  her  that  what  was  past  must  be  forgotten,  that,  in  spite  of 
everything,  she  could  not  be  his  wife,  that  he  had  no  property, 
and  their  friends  would  never  consent  to  their  union.  But  he 
kept  putting  it  off,  and  finding  it  more  and  more  awkward  to 
bring  about  this  explanation.  Each  day  he  became  more  and 
more  perplexed. 

Natasha,  so  far  as  her  mother  and  Sonya  could  judge,  was 
in  love  with  Boris  just  as  much  as  ever  she  had  been.  She 
sang  for  him  all  her  favorite  pieces,  showed  him  her  album, 
begging  him  to  write  in  it,  and  while  she  never  cared  to  talk 
about  the  past,  she  always  made  him  feel  how  charming  the  pres- 
ent was.  Each  day  Boris  was  more  and  more  involved  in  the 
fog  of  uncertainty,  never  saying  what  he  had  resolved  to  say, 
absolutely  at  sea  as  to  what  he  should  do,  or  why  he  went 
there,  and  how  it  would  all  end.  He  even  ceased  to  frequent 
Ellen's,  though  he  daily  received  reproachful  notes  from  her ; 
but  still  he  spent  most  of  his  spare  time  at  the  Kostofs'. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

One  evening,  when  the  old  countess,  in  night-cap  and  dress- 
ing-sack, with  her  false  curls  removed,  and  with  one  thin 
strand  of  white  hair  escaping  from  under  her  white  calico  cap, 
was  performing  the  low  obeisances  of  her  evening  devotions  on  a 
rug,  sighing  and  groaning,  the  door  of  her  room  creaked  on  its 
VOL.  2.  — 13. 


194  WAR  AND  PEACE, 

hinges,  and  Natasha  came  ruDning  in,  with  her  bare  feet  in 
slippers,  and  also  in  dressing-jacket  and  curl-papers. 

Tne  countess  glanced  around,  and  a  frown  passed  over  her 
face.  She  went  on  repeating  her  last  prayer,  '^  If  this  couch 
become  my  tomb/'  Her  devotional  frame  of  mind  was  de- 
stroyed, however.  Natasha,  with  rosy  cheeks  and  full  of  ani- 
mation, when  she  saw  that  her  mother  was  saying  her  prayers, 
suddenly  paused,  made  a  courtesy,  and  involuntarily  poked 
out  her  tongue,  to  express  her  annoyance  at  her  carelessness. 
Then,  perceiving  that  her  mother  still  went  on  with  her  devo- 
tions, she  ran  to  the  bed  on  her  tiptoes,  kicked  off  her  slippers 
by  rubbing  one  dainty  little  foot  against  the  other,  and  sprang 
into  that  couch  which  the  countess  was  so  afraid  would  be  her 
tomb.  This  couch  was  a  lofty  feather  bed,  with  five  pillows, 
each  smaller  than  the  other.  Natasha  jumped  into  the  middle, 
sinking  deep  into  the  feather  mattress,  rolled  over  next  the 
wall,  and  began  to  creep  under  the  bedclothes,  snuggling  down, 
tucking  her  knees  up  to  her  chin,  then  giving  animated  little 
kicks,  and  laughing  almost  aloud,  now  and  again  uncovering 
her  head  and  looking  at  her  mother. 

The  countess  finished  her  prayers,  and  with  a  stern  face 
came  to  the  bed,  but  seeing  that  Natasha's  head  was  hidden 
under  the  bedclothes,  she  smiled  her  good,  amiable  smile. 

"  Nu,  nu,  nu,"  said  the  mother. 

"Can  we  talk  now?  Say  yes!"  cried  Natasha.  "There 
now,  one  kiss  in  thy  neck ;  just  one  more,  and  that  will  satisfy 
me ! "  and  she  threw  her  arms  around  her  mother,  and  kissed 
her  under  the  chin.  In  her  treatment  of  her  mother,  Natasha 
seemed  to  be  very  rough  in  her  manner,  but  she  was  so  dex- 
terous and  graceful,  that  whenever  she  seized  her  mother  in 
her  arms,  she  always  did  it  in  such  a  way  as  not  to  hurt  her, 
or  disturb  her  at  all. 

"Well,  what  have  you  to  tell  me  to-night?"  asked  the 
countess,  settling  back  upon  the  pillows,  and  waiting  until 
Natasha,  rolling  over  and  over,  should  cuddle  down  close  to 
her,  drop  her  hands,  and  become  serious. 

These  visits  from  Natasha,  which  took  place  every  night 
before  the  count  came  from  his  club,  wero  a  great  delight  to 
both  mother  and  daughter. 

"  What  is  there  to  tell  to-night  ?  I  want  to  speak  to  yoa 
about "  — 

Natasha  stopped  her  mother's  mouth  with  her  hand. 

"  About  Boris  ?  I  know,"  said  she  gravely.  "  That's  what 
made  me  come.  No,  but  you  t.ell  me;"  she  took  away  her 
band.     " Go  on,  mamma;  he's  nice,  isn't  he  ? " 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  195 

''Natasha^  you  are  sixteen ;  at  your  age  I  was  already  mar- 
ried. You  say  that  Boris  is  nice.  He  is  very  nice,  and  I  love 
him  like  a  son,  but  what  do  you  wish  ?  You  have  entirely 
turned  his  head,  that's  evident "  — 

As  she  said  this,  the  countess  looked  at  her  daughter. 
Natasha  lay  looking  fixedly  at  one  of  the  carved  mahogany 
sphinxes  which  ornamented  the  bedposts.  The  countess 
could  only  see  her  daughter's  profile.  It  seemed  to  her  that 
the  sweet  face  had  a  peculiarly  grave  and  thoughtful  expres- 
sion. 

Natasha  was  listening  and  pondering. 

"  Well,  what  is  it  ?  " 

"  You  have  entirely  turned  his  head.  What  made  you  do 
so  ?  What  do  you  want  of  him  ?  You  know  that  you  cannot 
marry  him.'' 

"  Why  not  ?  '*  asked  Natasha,  without  altering  her  expres- 
sion. 

"  Becaus?ril^  is  very  young,  because  he  is  poor,  because  he  is 
a  relative  — because  you  yourself  are  not  in  love  with  him." 

"  How  do  you  know  I'm  not  in  love  with  him  ?  " 

"  I  know.     Now,  this  is  not  proper,  darling." 

"But  if  I  am  determined  on  it,"  began  Natasha. 

"  Do  cease  talking  nonsense ! "  said  the  countess. 

"Yes,  but  suppose  my  mind  is  made  up." 

"Natasha,  I  am  in  earnest"  — 

Natasha  did  not  allow  her  to  finish ;  she  seized  the  countess's 
plump  hand  and  kissed  it  on  the  back,  and  then  on  the  palm ; 
then  turned  it  over  again  and  began  to  kiss  it  on  the  knuckle- 
joint  of  each  finger  in  succession,  then  on  the  middle  joints, 
then  again  on  the  knuckles,  repeating  in  a  whisper,  "  January, 
February,  March,  April,  May  —  tell  me,  mamma,  why  don't 
you  go  on  ?  Speak  ! "  §aid  she,  looking  at  her  mother,  who 
with  affectionate  eyes  gazed  at  her  daughter,  becoming  so 
engrossed  in  this  contemplation  that  she  forgot  what  she  was 
going  to  say. 

"It  isn't  proper,  dusha  moya!  People  won't  remember 
anything  about  your  affection  as  children,  but  if  he  is  seen  to 
be  so  intimate  with  you  now,  it  might  injure  you  in  the  eyes 
of  other  young  men  who  come  to  the  house ;  and  worst  of  all, 
it  is  torturing  him  all  for  nothing,  l^erhaps  he  might,  by  this 
time,  have  found  some  rich  girl  to  marry,  but  now  he  is  quite 
beside  himself." 

"Beside  himself  ?"  repeated  Natasha. 

"  I  will  tell  you  my  own  experience.     1  once  had  a  cousin  "  — 


196  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

"  I  know — Kirill  Matveyitch,  but  he's  an  old  man,  isn't  he  ?  " 

"  He  hasn't  always  been  old !  But  see  here,  Natasha,  I  am 
going  to  talk  with  Boris.     He  must  not  come  here  so  much  "  — 

"  Why  mustn't  he,  if  he  likes  to  ?  " 

'*  Because  I  know  that  this  cannot  come  to  any  good  end." 

"  How  do  you  know  ?  No,  mamma !  you  must  not  speak  to 
him.  What  nonsense ! "  exclaimed  Natasha,  in  the  tone  of 
one  who  is  about  to  be  deprived  of  a  possession.  "  Well,  I 
won't  marry  him ;  but  do  let  him  come,  for  he  enjoys  it,  and 
so  do  I."  Natasha  looked  at  her  mother  with  a  smile.  "Not 
with  any  intentions,  but  this  way,"  she  repeated. 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  this  way,  my  dear  ?  " 

"  Yes,  this  way.  It  is  perfectly  understood  that  he  is  not 
to  marry  —  well,  this  way ! " 

"  Yes,  this  way,  this  way,"  repeated  the  countess ;  and  she 
went  into  an  unexpected  fit  of  good-natured  laughter,  her 
whole  body  shaking,  as  old  people  will. 

"Come,  mamma,  stop  laughing  at  me!"  cried  Natasha. 
"  You  make  the  whole  oed  shake.  You  are  awfully  like  me. 
You  laugh  just  as  easily  as  I  do.     Do  stop ! " 

She  seized  the  countess's  two  hands,  kissed  the  joint  of  the 
little  finger  of  one  of  them  for  June,  and  went  on  kissing 
July  and  August  on  the  other  hand.  "  Mamma,  but  he's  very, 
he's  so  very  much  in  love, — you  think  so,  do  you?  —  Was 
any  one  ever  as  much  in  love  with  you  ?  —  And  he's  very  nice, 
very,  very  nice,  isn't  he  ?  Only,  he's  not  quite  to  my  taste  — 
he's  so  narrow,  just  like  the  dining-room  clock.  You  know 
what  I  mean,  don't  you  ?  narrow,  you  know,  —  grayish  and 
serene." 

"  What  nonsense  you  do  talk ! "  exclaimed  the  countess. 

Natasha  pursued,  "Don't  you  understand  what  I  mean? 
Nikolenka  would  understand  me.  There's  Bezukhoi,  —  he's 
blue,  dark  blue  and  red,  and  he  is  four  square." 

"And  are  you  coquetting  with  him  too?"  asked  the 
countess,  laughing  again. 

"  No :  he's  a  Freemason ;  I  found  it  out.  He  is  splendid, 
dark  blue  and  red.     How  can  I  make  you  see  it  ?  " 

"  Graphinyushka  —  little  countess ;  aren't  you  asleep  yet  ?  " 
cried  the  count  at  this  moment  at  the  door.  Natasha  jumped 
out  of  bed,  seized  her  slippers  in  her  hand,  and  escaped  bare- 
footed to  her  own  room. 

It  was  long  before  she  could  go  to  sleep.  She  kept  thinking 
how  strange  it  was  that  no  one  could  ever  understand  things 
as  she  understood  them,  or  read  what  was  in  her  mind. 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  197 

"  Sonya  ?  "  she  thought,  gazing  at  the  young  girl  who,  with 
her  tremendous  long  pigtail,  lay  asleep  curled  up  like  a  little 
kitten.  "  No,  not  even  she !  She  is  virtue  itself !  She  is  in 
love  with  Nikolenka,  and  that^s  all  she  cares  about.  And 
mamma  can't  understand  either !  That  is  so  strange ;  how 
intelligent  she  is,  and  how  —  She  is  pretty,"  Natasha  went  on, 
speaking  of  herself  in  the  third  person,  and  imagining  that 
some  very  intelligent,  extraordinarily  intelligent  and  most 
handsome  man  was  saying  this  about  her.  "  She  has  every- 
thing, everything,"  this  man  of  her  imagination  was  saying. 
"  She  is  unusually  intelligent,  lovable,  and  pretty,  besides  — 
extraordinarily  pretty  and  graceful;  she  can  swim,  she  can 
ride  horseback  splendidly,  and  what  a  voice  !  One  might  say, 
a  marvellous  voice ! " 

She  sang  her  favorite  snatch  from  a  Cherubini  opera,  then 
threw  herself  into  bed,  smiling  at  the  happy  thought  that  she 
should  be  asleep  in  a  moment,  called  to  Dunyasha  to  put  out 
the  light ;  and  even  before  Dunyasha  had  left  the  room,  she 
had  already  passed  across  into  that  other,  still  happier  world 
of  dreams,  where  all  things  were  just  as  bright  and  beautiful 
as  in  reality,  but  still  more  fascinating,  because  so  different. 

On  the  next  day,  the  countess,  calling  Boris  to  her,  had  a 
talk  with  liim,  and  from  that  time  forth  he  ceased  to  be  a  fre- 
quent visitor  at  the  Eostofs\ 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

On  the  thirty-first  of  December,  O.S.,  on  the  very  eve  of 
the  new  year,  1810,  le  rSveillon,  a  ball  was  given  by  a  grandee 
of  Catherine's  time.  The  diplomatic  corps  and  the  emperor 
had  promised  to  be  present. 

The  grandee's  splendid  mansion  on  the  English  Quay  was 
illuminated  with  countless  windows,  all  ablaze.  At  the  bril- 
liantly lighted,  red-carpeted  entrance  stood  a  guard  of  police, 
comprising  not  alone  gendarmes,  but  even  the  chief  of  police 
and  half  a  score  of  officers.  Carriages  drove  away,  and  new  ones 
kept  taking  their  places,  with  red-liveried  lackeys,  and  lackeys 
with  plumes  in  their  hats.  From  the  carriages  descended 
men  in  uniforms,  and  men  adorned  with  stars  and  laces ;  and 
as  the  steps  were  let  down  with  a  bang,  ladies  in  satins  and 
ermine  cloaks  hastily  and  noiselessly  picked  their  way  over 
the  carpeted  entrance. 


198  WAR  AND  PEACE, 

Almost  every  time  when  a  new  eqiiipiige  drove  up,  a  flurry 
of  excitement  ran  through  the  crowd,  and  hats  were  removed. 

"  The  sovereign  ?  "  "  No,  a  minister.  "  "  Prince  so  and  so." 
"  An  ambassador."     ''  But  did  you  see  his  plume  ?  " 

Such  were  the  remarks  heard  in  the  crowd.  There  was  one 
man,  better  dressed  than  the  rest,  and  he  seemed  to  know  who 
everybody  was,  and  called  by  name  the  famous  grandees  of 
the  time. 

Already  a  third  of  the  guests  had  arrived ;  but  at  the  Ros- 
tofs',  who  were  also  invited,  hasty  preparations  were  still  in 
progress. 

Many  had  been  the  rumors  and  anticipations  in  the  Rostof 
family  about  this  ball ;  many  the  apprehensions  lest  they 
should  not  get  their  invitation,  lest  their  dresses  should  not 
be  ready,  and  everything  ordered  as  it  should  be. 

Marya  Tgnatyevna  Peronskaya,  an  old  friend  and  relative  of 
the  countess,  was  to  accompany  the  Rostofs  to  the  ball.  She 
was  a  lean  and  sallow  freiliyia,  who  belonged  to  the  empress 
dowager's  court,  and  took  charge  of  her  country  cousins,  the 
Rostofs,  in  their  entry  into  Petersburg  high  life. 

They  were  to  call  for  her  at  ten  o'clock  in  the  evening  at 
her  residence  on  the  Taurid  Gardens,  and  now  it  only  lacked 
five  minutes  of  ten,  and  still  the  ladies  were  not  dressed. 

This  was  the  first  great  ball  to  which  Natasha  had  ever 
been  in  her  life.  She  had  got  up  at  eight  o'clock  that  morn- 
ing, and  had  been  all  day  long  in  a  state  of  the  wildest  excite- 
ment and  bustle.  All  her  energies,  from  earliest  morning, 
had  been  expended  in  the  effort  to  have  all  of  them  —  herself, 
Sonya,  and  her  mamma  —  dressed  to  perfection.  Sonya  and 
the  countess  trusted  themselves  entirely  to  her  hands.  The 
countess  was  to  wear  a  dark  red  or  masakd  dress  of  velvet; 
the  two  girls,  gowns  with  pink  silk  overskirts,  and  i-oses  in 
their  corsages,  while  their  hair  was  to  be  coiffred  a  Ut  grecque. 

The  most  important  part  had  been  already  done :  their  feet, 
liands,  arms,  necks,  and  ears  had  been  washed,  perfumed,  and 
powdered  with  extraordinary^  care.  On  their  feet  they  wore 
o])en-w^ork  silk  stockings,  and  white  satin  slippers  with  bows. 
Their  toilettes  were  almost  finished.  Sonya  had  her  dress  on, 
and  so  had  the  countess ;  but  Natasha,  who  had  been  helping 
the  others,  was  Ix^hindhand.  She  was  still  sitting  in  front  of 
the  mirror  in  a  7j<?k/?ioiV  that  covered  her  slender  shoulders. 
Sonya,  already  dressed,  was  standing  in  the  middle  of  the  room 
fastening  on  a  last  bow  with  a  pin  that  hurt  her  dainty  fingers 
as  she  tried  to  press  it,  squeaking,  through  the  ribbon. 


WAR  AND  PEACE,  199 

"  Not  that  way,  not  that  way,  Sonya,"  cried  Katasha,  turn- 
ing her  head  suddenly,  and  putting  her  hands  up  to  her  hair, 
which  the  maid,  who  was  dressing  it,  did  not  have  time  to  let 
go  of.     "  Don't  put  the  bow  that  way,  come  here  ! " 

Sonya  sat  down  in  front  of  her.  Natasha  pinned  the  bow 
in  a  different  position. 

"  If  you  please,  baruishnya,  I  can't  arrange  your  hair  this 
w2Ly"  exclaimed  the  maid,  still  holding  her  dark  locks. 

"  Oh,  good  gracious,  wait  then  !  There,  that's  the  way, 
Sonya ! " 

"  Are  you  almost  ready  ?  "  asked  the  countess.  "  It's  ten 
o'clock  aJready." 

"  In  a  minute,  in  a  minute." 

"  And  are  you  all  ready,  mamma  ?  " 

"  Only  have  my  headdress  to  put  on." 

"  Don't  you  do  it  without  me ! "  cried  Natasha.  "You won't 
get  it  right ! " 

"  Yes,  but  it's  ten  o'clock  ! " 

It  had  been  agreed  upon  that  they  should  reach  the  ball- 
room at  half-past  ten,  and  Natasha  had  still  to  get  on  her 
dress,  and  they  had  to  drive  to  the  Taurid  Gardens. 

As  soon  as  her  hair  was  done,  Natasha,  in  her  short  petti- 
coat, which  showed  her  ball-slippers,  and  wearing  her  mother's 
dressing-jacket,  ran  to  Sonya  and  examined  her  critically; 
then  she  hurried  to  her  mother.  Bending  her  head  down,  she 
put  on  it  her  headdress,  and,  giving  her  gray  hair  a  hasty  kiss, 
she  scurried  back  to  the  maids,  who  were  putting  the  last 
touches  to  her  skirt. 

The  delay  had  been  caused  by  Natasha's  skirt,  which  was 
too  long ;  two  maids  were  at  work  on  it,  hastily  biting  off  the 
ends  of  the  thread.  A  third,  with  her  mouth  full  of  pins,  was 
hastening  from  the  countess  to  Sonya ;  and  a  fourth  was  hold- 
ing up  high  in  the  air  the  completed  crepe  gown. 
Mavrushka,  hurry  up,  you  old  dove."  * 
Give  me  the  thimble,  baruishnya." 

"  Are  you  almost  ready  ?  "  asked  the  count,  coming  to  the 
door.  "  Here  is  some  perfume  for  you.  Peronskaya  will  be 
in  a  fume." 

"  There !  it  is  done ! "  cried  the  maid,  lifting  up  with  two 
fingers  the  completed  crepe  dress,  and  giving  it  a  puff  and  a 
shake,  by  this  motion  expressing  her  sense  of  the  airiness  and 
purity  of  what  she  held. 

Natasha  began  to  put  the  garment  on. 

•  Golubushka. 


u 


200  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

'*  In  a  minate,  in  a  minute ;  don't  come,  papa,"  she  cried  to 
her  father,  who  was  just  opening  the  door.  Her  head  at  that 
▼ery  moment  was  disappearing  under  the  cloud  of  cr^pe. 
Sonya  closed  the  door.  But  in  a  moment  the  count  was  ad- 
mitted. He  wore  a  hlue  dress-coat,  short  clothes,  and  hnckled 
shoes,  and  was  scented  and  pomaded. 

"  Akh !  papa,  how  handsome  you  look  !  Charming ! "  cried 
Natasha,  as  she  stood  in  the  middle  of  the  chamber  and  ad- 
justed the  folds  of  her  skirt 

^^  Excuse  me,  bdruishnya,  excuse  me,"  said  one  of  the  maids, 
who  was  on  her  knees  pulling  the  skirts ;  and  she  shifted  the 
pins  from  one  side  of  her  mouth  to  the  other,  with  a  deft 
motion  of  her  tongue. 

"  It's  too,  too  bad  ! "  cried  Sonya,  with  despair  in  her  voice, 
.  scrutinizing  Natasha's  dress.  "  It's  too  bad !  it*s  over  long 
now ! " 

Natasha  made  a  few  steps  so  as  to  look  into  the  pier-glass. 
The  skirt  was  indeed  too  long. 

^'  Good  gracious,  sudaruinya,  it  isnt  too  long,  at  all,"  said 
Mavrusha,  crawling  along  on  the  floor  after  her  young  lady. 

'^  Well,  if  it's  too  long,  then  let  us  tack  it  up  ;  we  can  do  it 
in  a  second,"  said  Dunyaaha,  in  a  decisive  tone,  taking  a  needle 
from  the  bosom  of  her  dress,  and  again  squatting  down  on  the 
floor,  to  baste  up  the  bottom  of  the  skirt. 

At  this  instant,  the  countess,  in  her  headdress  and  velvet 
robe,  came  timidly  into  the  room,  with  noiseless  steps. 

"  Oo !  Go  !  my  beauty ! "  cried  the  count.  "  You  are  the 
best  of  them  all !  "  He  tried  to  give  her  a  hug  and  a  kiss,  but 
she  blushed  and  pushed  him  away,  so  as  not  to  rumple  her 
dress. 

"  Mamma,  your  headdress  wants  to  be  more  to  one  side," 
cried  Natasha.  "  I  will  pin  it  on,"  and  she  sprang  forward  so 
quickly  that  the  maids,  who  were  at  work  on  the  skirt,  did  not 
have  time  to  let  go,  and  a  piece  of  the  crepe  was  torn. 

"  Good  gracious  !  what  have  you  done !  Truly,  it  was  not  ray 
faylt ! " 

"No  matter;  it  won't  be  seen,"  said  Dunyasha. 

"  0  my  beauty !  a  real  queen ! "  cried  the  old  nyanya, 
looking  in  at  the  door.  "  And  Sonyushka  too ;  well,  they  are 
beauties ! " 

By  quarter-past  ten,  finally,  all  were  seated  in  the  carriage 
^  and  on  their  way.     But  they  had  still  to  stop  at  the  Taurid 

Gardens. 

Peronskaya  was  all  ready  and  waiting  for  them.     Notwith- 


(  > 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  201 

standing  her  advanced  age,  and  her  lack  of  charms,  almost  ex- 
actly the  same  thing  had  taken  place  in  her  case  as  with  the  Ros- 
tofs,  though,  of  course,  with  no  haste  and  flurry,  for  this  was 
an  old  story  with  her ;  but  her  scraggy  old  form  had  been 
washed  and  scented  and  powdered  in  just  the  same  way,  and 
she  had  been  just  as  scrupulous  in  washing  behind  her  ears  ; 
and  just  as  at  the  Kostofs',  her  ancient  maid  had  enthusiasti- 
cally contemplated  the  adornment  of  .her  mistress,  when, 
dressed  in  her  yellow  robe  with  the  imperial  monogram,  she 
had  come  down  into  the  drawing-room. 

Peronskaya  could  not  find  words  enough  to  praise  the  Kos- 
tofs' toilets. 

The  Rostofs  also  extoUeM  her  taste  and  her  toilet ;  and  at 
last,  at  eleven  o'clock,  carefully  safeguarding  their  hair  and 
their  dresses,  they  stowed  themselves  away  in  the  carriage, 
and  drove  off. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

Natasha,  since  that  morning,  had  not  had  a  moment  to 
herself ;  and  not  once  had  she  taken  time  to  ^ink  of  what  was 
before  her. 

In  the  raw,  chill  atmosphere,  in  the  narrow,  dimly  lighted, 
swaying  carriage,  she,  for  the  first  time,  clearly  saw  in  her  imagi- 
nation what  was  waiting  for  her  there,  at  the  ball,  in  the  lighted 
halls, — the  music,  the  flowers,  the  dances,  the  sovereign,  all  the 
gilded  youth  of  the  city.  Fancy  pictured  it  in  such  attractive 
colors,  that  she  could  hardly  believe  that  it  was  going  to  be  real- 
ized :  it  was  all  in  such  vivid  contrast  with  the  impression  of  the 
chill,  the  narrowness,  and  darkness  of  the  carriage.  She  real- 
ized all  that  was  awaiting  her  only  at  the  moment  when,  hav- 
ing passed  along  the  red-carpeted  entrance,  she  went  into  the 
vestibule  and  took  off  her  furs,  and,  together  with  Sonya,  pre- 
ceded her  mother  up  the  grand  staircase  lined  witli  flowering 
plants.  Then  only  it  came  over  lier  with  what  propriety  she 
must  behave  at  a  b^ill,  and  she  tried  to  assume  tliat  dignified 
manner  which  she  felt  to  be  the  proper  thing  for  girls  on  such 
an  occasion. 

But,  fortunately,  she  was  conscious  that  her  eyes  were  wan- 
dering; she  could  not  distinguish  anything  clearly:  her  heart 
was  beating  a  hundred  a  minute,  and  her  pulses  throbbed 
almost  painfully.  It  was  impossible  for  her  to  assume  any 
such  manner,  and  it  would  have  been  ridiculous  in  her ;  and 


202  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

• 
so  she  passed  along,  dying  with  excitement,  and  trying  with 
all  her  might  to  hide  it ;  and  this  was  the  very  manner  which 
was,  most  of  all^  hecoming  to  her.  Behind  them,  and  in  front 
of  them,  other  guests  were  mounting  the  stairs,  also  talking  in 
low  tones,  and  dressed  in  ball  costumes.  Great  mirrors  on  the 
landings  reflected  visions  of  ladies  in  white,  blue,  and  pink 
gowns,  with  diamonds  and  pearls  on  their  bare  arms  and 
bosoms. 

Natasha  glanced  into  the  mirrors,  but  she  could  not  distin- 
guish herself  from  among  the  others:  all  were  commingled 
and  confused  in  one  glittering  procession.  As  they  reached 
the  door  leading  into  the  first  drawing-room,  a  continuous  roar 
of  voices,  footsteps,  and  greetings  deafened  Natasha :  the  lighta 
and  brilliant  toilets  still  more  dazzled  her.  The  host  and 
hostess,  who  had  already  for  hours  been  standing  near  the 
entrance  and  repeating  over  the  same  words  of  welcome, 
"  Charme  de  vous  voir/'  met  the  Rostofs  and  Peronskaya  in  the  •, 

same  way. 

The  two  young  girls,  in  their  white  dresses,  each  with  a 
single  rose  in  her  dark  locks,  went  in  and  courtesied  exactly 
alike  ;  but  involuntarily  the  hostess  let  her  glance  rest  longer 
on  the  gentle  liMle  Natasha.  She  gazed  at  her  with  a  smile^ 
the  expression  of  which  had  something  in  it  quite  different 
from  the  set  smile  of  the  hostess.  As  she  looked  at  her,  she 
perhaps  remembered  the  golden  days  of  her  girlhood,  which 
would  never  more  return,  and  her  own  first  ball.  The  host 
also  followed  Natasha  with  his  glance,  and  asked  the  count 
which  of  the  two  was  his  daughter. 

"  Charmante  !  "  said  he,  kissing  his  finger-tips. 

In  the  great  ballroom,  the  guests  were  crowded  together 
near  the  entrance,  awaiting  the  coming  of  the  sovereign.  The 
countess  took  her  place  in  the  front  row  of  this  group.  Na- 
tasha had  had  her  ears  open,  and  she  was  conscious  that  several 
had  asked  who  she  was,  and  had  found  it  pleasant  to  look  at 
her.  She  realized  that  she  was  making  a  pleasant  impression 
on  those  whose  eyes  followed  her,  and  this  fact  somewhat 
calmed  her  agitation. 

"  There  are  some  just  like  ourselves,  and  some  not  as  good," 
she  thought. 

Peronskaya  was  pointing  out  to  the  countess  the  most  not- 
able people  in  the  ballroom. 

"  There !  that's  the  Dutch  ambassador,"  said  Peronskaya, 
directing  the  countess's  attention  to  a  gentleman  with  crisp 
silver-white  hair,  closely  trimmed.     He  was  surrounded   by 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  203 

ladies,  whom  he  had  just  set  to  laughing  by  some  story  or 
other. 

^*  Ah !  and  there  is  the  ts&ritsa  of  Petersburg,  the  Countess 
Bezukhaya,"  she  exclaimed,  indicating  fiUen^  who  had  just  en- 
tered. *^  How  handsome  she  is !  she  does  not  stand  second 
even  to  Marya  Antonovna.  Just  see  how  young  and  old  stare 
after  her.     She's  both  handsome  and  intelligent.     They  say 

Prince has  quite  lost  his  heart  to  her.     And  see  those 

two,  there !    They  are  not  pretty  at  all,  but  what  a  following 
they  have ! " 

She  indicated  a  lady  and  her  extremely  plain  daughter,  who 
were  just  crossing  the  ballroom. 

<'  That  girl  is  the  daughter  of  a  millionnaire,"  said  Peron- 
skaya ;  "  and  there  are  her  suitors.  That's  the  Countess  Bezu- 
khaya's  brother,  Anatol  Kuragin,"  said  she,  referring  to  a  hand- 
some young  cavalryman,  who  was  just  then  passing  them, 
holding  his  head  very  high,  and  not  deigning  to  give  the  ladies 
a  look.  ^'  How  handsome  he  is !  isn't  he  ?  They  say  he's 
going  to  marry  this  heiress ;  and  your  cousin,  Drubetskoi,  is 
also  after  her :  they  say  she  has  millions.  —  Who  ?  that  man 
there  ?  That  is  the  French  ambassador  himself,"  she  replied 
to  the  countess,  who  asked  who  Caulaincourt  was.  ^'  Just  see, 
he  is  like  some  tsar !  And  yet  they  are  all  so  charming,  — 
these  French,  —  all  very  nice.  Ah !  and  there  she  is !  No,  after 
all,  there  is  no  one  who  can  be  compared  to  our  Marya  Anton- 
ovna. And  how  simply  she  is  dressed !  Charming  !  —  And  that 
stout  man  yonder,  in  spectacles,  is  the  universal  Freemason," 
said  she,  pointing  out  Bezukhoi.  ^^  Compare  him  with  his  wife ! 
what  a  ridiculous  creature ! " 

Pierre  walked  along,  his  stout  form  swaying,  and  pushed 
through  the  throng,  bowing  to  right  and  left,  carelessly  and 
good-naturedly,  as  though  he  were  making  his  way  through 
the  swarms  of  a  market-place.  He  passed  along,  evidently  in 
search  of  some  one. 

Natasha  was  glad  to  see  Pierre's  well-known  face,  even  if  he 
was  "  a  ridicidous  creature,"  to  use  the  words  of  Peronskaya ; 
and  she  knew  that  it  was  her  party,  and  herself  in  particular, 
of  whom  Pierre  was  in  search.  Pierre  had  promised  that  he 
would  attend  the  ball  and  find  partners  for  her. 

But  before  he  reached  where  they  stood,  Pierre  stopped  near 
a  short  and  very  handsome  dark-featured  cavalryman,  in  a 
white  uniform,  who  was  standing  by  the  window,  and  convers- 
ing with  a  tall  individual  with  stars  and  a  ribbon.  Natasha 
instantly  recognized  the  shorter  of  the  two  men :  it  was  Bol- 


204  W'-^^   -4 AT)  PEACE. 

konsky,  who  seemed  to  her  to  have  grown  younger,  gayer,  and 

handsomer. 

•    "  There's  another  of  our  acquaintance  —  Bolkonsky  —  do 

you  see  him,  mamma  ?  "  asked  Natasha,  pointing  to  Prince 

Andrei.     "  Do  you  remember  ?    he  spent  a  night  with  us  at 

Otradnoye." 

"  Ah,  indeed  !  so  you  know  him,  then  ?  "  asked  Peronskaya. 
"  I  cannot  endure  him.  R  fait  a  present  la  pluie  et  le  bean 
temps  I  ♦  There's  no  end  to  his  pride.  He's  exactly  like  his 
papeuka.  And  now  he's  hand  in  glove  with  Speransky :  thej 
are  concocting  all  sorts  of  schemes.  See  how  he  treats  the 
ladies!  one  just  spoke  to  him,  and  he  turns  his  back  on  her! 
I'd  give  him  a  lesson  if  he  treated  me  as  he  did  those  ladies.** 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

Suddenly  there  was  a  general  stir :  a  whisper  ran  through 
the  throng,  which  pressed  forward  and  then  divided  again, 
making  two  rows,  between  which  came  the  sovereign,  to  the 
strains  of  the  band  which  just  then  struck  up.  He  was  fol- 
lowed by  the  host  and  hostess.  The  sovereign  passed  along 
quickly,  bowing  to  the  right  and  left,  as  though  anxious  to 
have  done  as  soon  as  possible  with  these  iirst  formalities.  The 
musicians  played  a  Polonaise  then  famous,  on  account  of  the 
words  which  had  been  set  to  it.  These  words  began,  '*  Alek- 
sandr,  Yelizavyetaj  you  enrapture  us." 

The  sovereign  entered  the  drawing-room.  The  throng  pushed 
toward  the  doors :  several  personages,  with  anxious  faces,  in 
great  haste,  rushed  hither  and  thither.  The  throng  again 
closed  around  the  drawing-room  door,  where  the  sovereign 
made  his  appearance,  engaged  in  conversation  with  the  host* 
ess.  A  young  man,  with  an  expression  of  annoyance  on  his 
face,  came  along  and  begged  the  ladies  to  step  back.  Several 
ladies,  with  eager  faces  showing  absolute  disregard  of  all  the 
conventional  rules  of  good  breeding,  pushed  forwaii^  to  the 
imminent  risk  of  their  toilets.  The  gentlemen  began  to 
select  partners,  and  get  into  position  for  the  polonaise. 

Space  was  cleared;  and  the  sovereign,  with  a  smile,  stepping 
out  of  time,  passed  into  the  ballroom,  leading  the  lady  of  the 
house  by  the  hand. 

They  were  followed  by  the  host,  with  Marya  Antonovna 

*  "  Hifl  star  is  in  the  ascendant  just  now : "  a  French  proverb,  signifying 

lliS  BUCOeSS,  —  AVTHQK'B  NOTX. 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  206 

Naruishkina ;  then  the  ambassadors  and  ministers,  and  various 
generals,  whom  Peronskaya  indefatigably  called  by  name. 

More  than  half  of  the  ladies  had  partners,  and  were  already 
dancing  or  beginning  to  dance  the  polonaise. 

Natasha  felt  that  she  and  Sonya,  as  well  as  her  mother,  were 
left  in  the  lurch,  with  that  minority  of  ladies  who  lined  the 
walls,  and  were  not  invited  to  take  part  in  the  polonaise.  She 
stood  with  her  slender  arms  hanging  by  her  sides  ;  with  her 
maidenly  bosom,  as  yet  scarcely  detined,  regularly  rising  and 
falling  with  long  inspirations  ;  and  she  looked  straight  ahead 
with  brilliant  eyes  full  of  alarm,  indicating  that  she  was  ready 
for  utter  enjoyment  or  desperate  disappointment. 

She  was  not  interested  now  in  the  sovereign,  or  in  any  of 
those  distinguished  personages  whom  Peronskaya  was  calling 
their  attention  to  :  she  had  only  one  thought,  — 

"Isn't  any  one  coming  to  invite  me?  Can  it  be  that  I 
am  not  going  to  have  a  single  dance  ?  Won't  any  of  those 
men  notice  me  ?  — of  those  men  who  now  do  not  seem  to  see 
me ;  or,  if  they  see  me,  look  at  me  as  much  as  to  say  '  Oh, 
she's  nothing,  —  she's  nothing  to  look  at ! '  No,  it  cannot  be !  " 
said  she  to  herself.  "  They  must  know  how  I  am  longing  to 
dance,  and  how  splendidly  I  dance,  and  how  much  they  would 
enjoy  it  if  they  danced  with  me ! " 

The  strains  of  the  polonaise,  which  had  now  lasted  some  lit- 
tle time,  began  to  have  a  melancholy  cadence  in  Natasha's  ears, 
—  as  though  connected  with  sad  memories.  She  felt  like  hav- 
ing a  good  cry.  Peronskaya  had  left  them;  the  count  was 
at  the  other  end  of  the  ballroom;  she  and  Sonya  and  the 
countess  were  as  much  alone,  in  this  throng  of  strangers,  as 
though  they  were  in  the  woods ;  no  one  took  any  interest  in 
them,  or  looked  out  for  them. 

Prince  Andrei  passed  them  with  a  lady  on  his  arm,  and  evi- 
dently did  not  recollect  them.  The  handsome  Anatol,  smiling, 
said  something  to  the  lady  with  whom  he  was  promenading, 
and  looked  into  Natasha's  face  as  one  looks  at  a  wall.  Twice 
Boris  ]|^ed  them,  and  each  time  turned  his  head  away.  Berg 
and  his  w^ife,  who  were  not  dancing,  joined  them. 

Natasha  felt  mortified  to  death  at  this  family  gathering,  there, 
at  the  ball ;  as  though  they  had  no  other  place  for  family  con- 
fidences than  in  a  ballroom.  She  did  not  look  at  Viera,  or  lis- 
ten to  what  she  had  to  say  about  her  emerald-green  dress. 

At  last  the  sovereign  sat  down  near  his  last  partner  —  he 
had  danced  with  three  —  and  the  music  ceased.  The  officious 
adjutant  bustled  up  to  the  lipstiofs^  begging  them  to  move  back 


206  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

a  little  more,  and  this  although  they  almost  touched  the  wall; 
and  then  from  the  gallery  was  heard  the  clear-cut  rhythm  of 
the  smooth  and  enticing  vaUe,  The  sovereign,  with  a  smile, 
glanced  down  the  ballroom.  A  moment  passed,  and  no  one 
had  as  yet  begun.  The  adjutant,  who  acted  as  master  of  cere- 
monies, approached  the  Countess  Bezukhaya,  and  asked  her  to 
dance.  She  accepted  with  a  smile,  and .  then,  without  looking 
at  him,  laid  her  hand  on  his  shoulder.  The  adjutant,  who 
knew  what  he  was  about,  calmly,  deliberately,  and  with  all 
the  self-coniidence  in  the  world,  placing  his  arm  lirmly  about 
her  waist,  at  first  started  off  with  her  in  the  glUsade  around  the 
edge  of  the  circle ;  then,  when  they  reached  the  end  of  the  ball- 
room, he  took  her  right  hand  with  his  left,  turned  her  around, 
and,  while  the  sounds  of  the  valse  grew  more  and  more  rapid, 
the  clicking  of  the  adjutant's  spurs  could  be  heard,  as  his 
agile  and  skilful  feet  beat  the  time  of  the  rhythm ;  while  on 
the  third  beat,  at  every  turn,  his  partner's  velvet  dress  floated 
out  and  seemed  to  fly.  Natasha  gazed  at  them,  and  was  ready 
to  weep  that  it  was  not  she  herself  who  was  leading  this  first 
valse. 

Prince  Andrei,  in  the  white  uniform  of  a  colonel  of  cavalry, 
in  silk  stockings  and  shoe-buckles,  stood,  full  of  life  and  radi- 
ant with  happiness,  in  the  front  row  of  the  circle,  not  far 
from  the  Bostofs.  Baron  Firhof  was  talking  to  him  about 
the  first  meeting  of  the  Imperial  Council^  which  had  been 
appointed  for  the  next  day.  Prince  Andrei,  as  an  intimate 
friend  of  Speransky,  and  one  who  had  shared  in  the  labors 
of  the  Legislative  Committee,  would  be  very  likely  to  be  able  to 
give  authentic  information  in  regard  to  the  approaching  session, 
concerning  which  there  were  many  conflicting  rumors.  But 
Prince  Andrei  was  not  giving  heed  to  what  Firhof  was  saying, 
and  looked  now  at  the  sovereign,  and  now  at  the  various  gen- 
tlemen, who  were  all  ready  to  dance,  but  had  not  the  necessary 
courage  to  take  the  floor. 

Prince  Andrei  was  observing  these  gentlemen  who  showed 
such  timidity  in  the  presence  of  their  sovereign ;  and  the  ladies, 
whose  hearts  were  sinking  within  them  with  desire  oi  being 
invited. 

Pierre  came  up  to  Prince  Andrei  and  took  him  by  the  arm. 

"  You  are  always  ready  for  a  dance  :  my  protegee^  the  little 
Rostova,  is  here ;  do  invite  her  ! "  said  he. 

"  Where  ?  "  asked  Bolkonsky.  "  I  beg  your  pardon,"  he 
added,  turning  to  the  baron.  "  We  will  finish  this  conversa- 
tion at  another  time ;  but  at  balls,  it  is  our  duty  to  dance." 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  207 

He  went  in  the  direction  indicated  by  Pierre.  Natasha's  de- 
spairiug;  melancholy  face  attracted  Prince  Andrei's  attention. 
He  recognized  her,  and  divined  her  feeling ;  and  realizing  that 
she  was  just  "coming  out,"  and  remembering  her  conversation, 
he  went  with  a  beaming  countenance  up  to  the  Countess  Ros- 
tova. 

"  Allow  me  to  make  you  acquainted  with  my  daughter,"  said 
the  countess,  with  a  blush. 

"  I  have  had  the  pleasure  of  meeting  her  before,  but  per- 
haps the  countess  does  not  remember  me,"  said  Prince 
Andrei,  with  a  Tow  and  respectful  bow ;  entirely  belying  Peron- 
skaya's  spiteful  observation  about  his  rudeness.  Approaching 
Natasha,  he  started  to  put  his  arm  around  her  waist,  even  be- 
fore he  had  actually  invited  her  to  dance  with  him.  Then  he 
proposed  that  they  should  take  a  tuni  of  the  i-ahe,  Natasha's 
face,  with  its  melancholy  expression,  ready  to  sink  to  despair 
or  become  radiant,  was  suddenly  lighted  up  with  a  happy, 
childlike  smile  of  gratitude. 

"  I  had  been  waiting  long  for  you,"  this  timid  and  radiant 
young  maiden  seemed  to  say,  by  this  smile  flashing  out  from 
under  the  tears  that  had  been  almost  ready  to  start,  as  she  put 
her  hand  on  Prince  Andrei's  shoulder.  They  were  the  second 
couple  that  ventured  out  upon  the  floor.  Prince  Andrei  was 
one  of  the  best  dancers  of  his  time.  Natasha  danced  exqui- 
sitely :  her  dainty  little  feet,  shod  in  her  satin  slippers,  per- 
formed their  duty  with  perfect  ease  and  agility,  as  though 
they  had  wings ;  and  her  face  was  beaming  with  triumphant 
delight. 

Her  neck  was  angular,  and  her  arms  were  thin  and  far  from 
pretty,  compared  with  Ellen's  charms.  Her  shoulders  were 
slim,  her  figure  undeveloped,  her  arms  slender ;  but  Ellen 
seemed  to  be  already  covered  with  an  enamel  left  by  the 
thousand  glances  that  had  glided  over  her  form  ;  while  Natasha 
seemed  like  a  maiden  who  for  the  first  time  appeared  in  a 
dress  decollete,  and  would  feel  very  much  ashamed  if  she  were 
not  assured  that  it  was  the  proper  thing. 

Prince  Andrei  liked  to  dance,  and  as  he  was  anxious  to  es- 
cape from  the  political  and  philosophical  talk  into  which 
people  insisted  in  dragging  him,  and  anxious  to  break  up,  as 
soon  as  possible,  that  tiresome  circle  of  people,  abashed  by  the 
presence  of  the  sovereign,  —  he  was  ready  to  dance ;  and  he 
chose  Natasha,  because  Pierre  had  suggested  her,  and  because 
she  happened  to  be  the  first  among  all  the  pretty  women  upon 
whom  nis  eyes  fell.    But  as  soon  as  he  held  this  slender,  sup- 


208  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

pie  form  in  his  arms,  and  she  started  awaj  so  close  to  him, 
and  smiled  up  into  his  face,  the  effect  of  her  charm  mounted 
into  his  head  like  wine ;  when  they  stopped  to  get  breath,  and 
he  released  her,  and  they  began  to  look  at  the  dancers,  he  felt 
as  though  he  had  been  inspired  with  new  energy  and  fresh 
life. 

CHAPTER  XVII. 

Following  Prince  Andrei's  example,  Boris  came  and  invited 
Natasha  to  dance  with  him ;  also^  the  master  of  ceremonies, 
who  had  opened  the  ball,  and  several  other  young  men ;  and 
Natasha,  turning  her  superfluity  of  partners  over  to  Sonya, 
flushed  and  beamed  with  delight,  and  did  not  miss  a  single 
dance  throughout  the  rest  of  the  evening.  She  did  not  notice 
and  she  did  not  heed  the  incidents  that  attracted  the  attention 
of  everybody  else  at  the  ball.  She  did  not  once  remark  how 
the  emperor  had  a  long  convei*sation  with  the  French  ambas> 
sador ;  or  how  he  showed  signal  favor  to  a  certain  lady  who 
was  present ;  or  how  the  European  Prince  So-and-So  and  So- 
and-So  said  and  did  this,  that,  and  the  other ;  or  how  Ellen  en- 
joyed  a  bnlliaut  success  and  attracted  the  special  attention  of 
such  and  such  a  person :  she  did  not  even  see  the  sovereign, 
and  only  noticed  that  he  had  withdrawn  by  the  fact  that  after 
his  departure  the  ball  became  livelier  than  ever. 

Just  before  supper.  Prince  Andrei  danced  one  of  the  jolliest 
of  cotillions  with  Natasha.  He  took  occasion  to  remind  her 
of  their  first  meeting  on  the  Otradnoye  driveway,  and  how  she 
could  not  go  to  sleep  that  moonlight  night,  and  how  he  had 
involuntarily  overheard  what  she  said.  Natasha  blushed  at 
this  reminiscence,  and  tried  to  excuse  herself,  as  though  it 
were  something  of  which  she  ought  to  be  ashamed,  that  Prince 
Andrei  had  accidentally  overheard  her. 

Prince  Andrei,  like  all  men  who  have  grown  up  in  society, 
liked  to  meet  any  one  who  was  free  from  the  stereotyped 
imprint  of  fashionable  high  life ;  and  such  a  person  was  Na- 
tasha, with  her  7iaiiie  astonishment,  her  enjoyment,  and  her 
modesty,  and  even  her  mistakes  in  speaking  French. 

He  treated  her,  and  spoke  to  her,  with  a  peculiar  delicacy 
and  affectionate  courtesy.  As  he  sat  next  to  her,  talking 
upon  the  simplest  and  most  insignificant  topics,  Prince  Andrei 
admired  the  radiant  gleam  in  her  eyes,  and  her  smile,  answer- 
ing not  what  was  said  to  her  so  much  as  to  her  inward  happi- 
ness.    If,  by  chance,  Natasha  were  invited  to  dance,  and  got 


AND  PEACB.  209 

np  with  a  smile,  and  went  flying  across  the  room,  Prince  Andrei 
found  especial  delight  in  watching  her  fawn-like  grace.  In 
the  midst  of  the  cotillion^  Natasha,  having  just  danced  out  one 
figure,  came  back  to  her  place,  with  a  long  sigh,  all  out  of 
breath.  A  new  cavalier  again  invited  her  out.  She  stood  up 
panting,  and  was  apparently  on  the  point  of  refusing;  but 
instantly  placed  her  hand  on  the  cavalier's  shoulder,  and  gave 
Prince  Andrei  a  smile. 

'<  I  should  like  very  much  to  get  my  breath,  and  sit  with 
you,  —  I  am  tired, — but  you  see  how  I  am  in  demand ;  and  that 
pleases  me,  and  I  am  happy,  and  I  love  you  all,  and  you  and  I 
understand  it  all : "  this,  and  much  more  besides,  this  smile  of 
hers  seemed  to  say.  When  her  partner  brought  her  back,  Na- 
tasha cheisseed  across  the  room  to  choose  two  ladies  for  the 
figure. 

''  If  she  speaks  to  her  cousin  first,  and  then  to  the  other  lady, 
she  shall  be  my  wife ! "  said  Prince  Andrei,  unexpectedly  even 
to  himself,  as  he  followed  her.     She  went  to  her  cotisin  first ! 

**  What  nonsense  sometimes  enters  one's  head  I "  thought 
Prince  Andrei.  <'  But  it  is  quite  evident  that  this  maiden  is 
so  sweet,  and  so  unlike  anybody  else,  that  she  won't  be  kept 
dancing  here  for  a  month:  she'll  be  engaged  or  married. 
There's  no  one  like  her  here ! "  he  thought,  as  Natasha, 
smoothing  out  the  petals  of  a  rose  in  her  corsage,  that  had  been 
crushed,  came  back  and  resumed  her  place  next  him. 

At  the  end  of  the  cotillion,  the  old  count,  in  his  blue  coat, 
came  up  to  the  dancers.  He  invited  Prince  Andrei  to  call  and 
see  them,  and  he  asked  his  daughter  if  she  had  been  having  a 
good  time.  Natasha  at  first  did  not  reply,  except  by  a  smile 
which  had  a  sort  of  reproach  in  it,  as  much  as  to  say,  "  How 
can  you  ask  such  a  question  ?  " 

"The  joUiest  time  I  ever  had  in  my  life,"  said  she;  and 
Prince  Andrei  noticed  how  she  made  a  quick  motion  to  raise 
her  slender  arms,  as  if  to  embrace  her  father,  and  instantly 
dropped  them  again.  Natasha  was  hapi>ier  than  she  had  ever 
been  in  her  life  before  :  she  had  reached  that  lofty  height  of 
bliss,  when  a  person  becomes  perfectly  good  and  lovely,  and 
cannot  believe  in  the  existence  or  the  possibility  of  wicked- 
ness, unhappiness,  and  sorrow. 

Pierre,  at  this  ball,  for  the  first  time  had  a  realizing  sense 

of  the  false  position  in  which  he  was  placed  by  the  status 

occupied  by  his  wife  in  ctourt  society.     He  was  morose,  and 

in  despair.     A  deep  frown  furrowed  his  brow;  and  as  he  stoo<l 

VOL.  2,-14, 


210  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

by  the  window,  he  glared  through  his  spectacles,  and  yet  saw 
nothing. 

Natasha,  as  she  went  down  to  supper,  passed  by  him. 

His  gloomy,  unhappy  face  struck  ner.  She  paused  in  front 
of  him :  she  felt  a  desire  to  help  him,  to  share  with  him  the 
superfluity  of  her  own  happiness. 

"  How  jolly  it  is,  count,"  said  she.     "  Isn't  it  ?  " 

Pierre  gave  her  a  distracted  smile,  evidently  not  understand- 
ing what  she  said. 

"  Yes,  I  am  very  glad,"  he  replied. 

"  How  can  any  one  be  dissatisfied  with  anything,"  wondered 
Natasha.'  ^^  Especially  such  a  good  fellow  as  that  Bezukhoi  ?  " 

In  Natasha's  eyes,  all  who  were  at  the  ball  were  alike  good, 
sweet,  lovely  men,  full  of  affection  toward  each  other :  hatred 
was  out  of  the  question,  and  therefore  all  ought  to  be  happy. 


CHAPTEE  XVIII. 

On  the  next  day,  Prince  Andrei  remembered  the  ball  of  the 
evening  before,  but  it  soon  passed  out  of  his  mind. 

"  Yes,  it  was  a  very  brilliant  ball ;  and  besides  —  yes,  the 
little  Kostof  girl  was  very  captivating.  There's  something 
peculiarly  fresh  about  her,  very  original  and  un-Petersburg- 
like ! " 

That  was  the  extent  of  the  thought  that  he  gave  to  the  ball ; 
and,  after  he  had  drunk  his  tea,  he  sat  down  to  his  labors.  But, 
either  because  of  his  weariness,  or  his  sleepless  night,  the  day 
was  unpropitious  for  work,  and  he  could  not  accomplish  any- 
thing ;  and  what  he  did  was  unsatisfactory,  as  was  often  the 
case  with  him ;  and  he  was  glad  when  word  was  brought  that 
some  one  had  come  to  see  him. 

The  visitor  was  Bitsky,  who  had  served  on  various  commit- 
tees, and  frequented  all  the  different  cliques  of  Petersburg 
society.  He  was  a  zealous  supporter  of  the  new  ideas,  and  of 
Speransky;  and  was  known  about  town  as  an  indefatigible 
gossip-monger ;  one  of  those  men  who  follow  the  fashion  in 
their  opinions  as  in  their  clothes,  and  who,  accordingly,  are 
regarded  as  the  most  eager  partisans  of  the  latest  doctrines. 

Scarcely  giving  himself  time  to  remove  his  hat,  he  rushed 
eagerly  into  Prince  Andrei's  room,  and,  on  the  instant,  rat- 
tled off  into  a  stream  of  talk.  He  had  only  just  learned  the 
details  of  the  session  of  tho^Imperial  Council,  that  had  taken 


ftt.i,     .xf^  PEACE,  213 

WAR  AND  I 

nted,  that  the  only  way 
place  that  momihg,  opened  by  the  sovei\,i;^  them  was  to  cover 
began  to  tell  about  it  with  all  the  enthusia. 
The  sovereign's  speech  had  been  extraordinary  :-ng  that  mom- 
speech  as  only  a  constitutional  monarch  could  have  ^f ^  on  being 

"  The  empei-or  said,  in  so  many  words,  that  the  coujsrreeable. 
the   senate  were  now  the  mernbera  of  the  govemmenlNQsus, 
declared  that  the  administration  should  have  its  basis  not  ons 
arbitrary  will,  but  on  firm  principles.     The  sovereign  declared 
that  the  finances  should  be  re-organized,  and  the  budgets  made 
public,"  said  Bitsky,  laying  a  special  emphasis  on  the  impor- 
tant words,  and  opening  his  eyes  significantly.     '^  Yes :  the 
event  of  to-day  marks  an  era,  a  magnificent  era,  in  our  his- 
tory," he  said,  in  conclusion. 

Prince  Andrei  listened  to  the  story  of  the  opening  of  the 
Imperial  Council,  which  he  had  been  looking  forward  to  with 
so  much  impatience,  and  to  which  he  attributed  so  much  im- 
portance ;  and  he  was  amazed  that  this  event,  now  that  it  was 
really  accomplished,  not  only  did  not  stir  him,  but  seemed  to 
him  worse  than  idle.  He  listened  to  Bitsky 's  enthusiastic 
account  with  quiet  irony.  The  most  obvious  thought  that  came 
into  his  head  was,  "  What  concern  is  it  to  me  or  to  Bitsky,  — 
indeed,  what  concern  is  it  of  ours,  — that  the  sovereign  deigned 
to  say  something  in  the  council  ?  Can  it  make  me  any  happier, 
or  any  better  ?  " 

And  this  obvious  criticism  suddenly  destroyed  for  Prince 
Andrei  all  the  interest  that  he  had  formerly  taken  in  the 
reforms. 

Prince  Andrei  had  been  invited  to  dine  that  day  at  Sper- 
ansky's,  "  en  petit  eomite,'^  as  he  himself  expressed  it,  when 
he  gave  him  the  invitation. 

The  idea  of  this  dinner,  in  the  intimate  and  home  circle  of  a 
man  for  whom  he  felt  such  an  admiration,  had  before  this  been 
exceedingly  attractive  to  Prince  Andrei,  the  more  from  the 
fact  that  hitherto  he  had  never  seen  Speransky  in  his  family 
life ;  but  now  he  lost  all  desire  to  go. 

At  the  hour  set  for  the  dinner,  however.  Prince  Andrei 
reached  Speransky's  own  small  house,  near  the  Taurid  Gar- 
dens. Pnnce  Andrei  was  a  little  late  when  he  was  shown 
into  the  parquetry-floored  dining-room  of  the  modest  little 
residence,  —  distinguished  for  its  extraordinary,  its  rather 
monastic,  primness,  —  where  all  the  gentlemen  constituting 
Speransky's  petit  comite,  being  his  most  intimate  friends,  had 
promptly  assembled  at  five  o'clock.  There  were  no  ladies 
present,  except  Speransky's  young  daughter,  who  had  a  long 


210  WAR.lND  P£lAC£. 

by  the  window,  he  gkaer's,  and  her  governess.    The  guests 
nothing.  gnitsky,  and  Stolnipin. 

Natasha,  as  ir'rince  Andrei  was  in  the  vestibnle,  he  heard 
His  gloq'^and  a  clear,  precise  harha-ha:  a  laugh,  like  that  af- 
of  him  y  actors  on  the  stage.     Some  one,  whose  voice  sounded 
sup@][>eranBky's,  rang  out  distinctly :  ha-ha-ha.     Prince  Andrei 
dd  never  heard  Speransky  laugh  heartily,  and  the  clear,  ring- 
ing laugh  of  the  great  statesman  struck  him  strangely. 

Prince  Andrei  went  into  the  dining-room.  All  the  company 
were  gathered  around  a  lunch  table,  standing  between  two  win- 
dows, and  spread  with  the  zakuska,  Speransky,  in  a  gray 
coat,  with  a  star,  and  wearing  the  same  immaculate  white  waist- 
coat and  high  white  stock,  in  which  he  had  appeared  at  the 
memorable  meeting  of  the  Imperial  Council,  stood  at  the  table, 
his  face  beaming  with  pleasure.  The  gentlemen  formed  a  cir- 
cle around  him.  Magnitsky,  addressing  Mikhail  Mikhailo- 
vitch,  was  relating  an  anecdote.  Speransky  listened,  and 
began  to  laugh  even  before  Magnitsky  reached  the  point  of  his 
story.  At  the  moment  Prince  Andrei  entered  the  room,  Mag- 
nitsky's  words  were  drowned  in  another  roar  of  merriment : 
Stoluipin's  deep  voice  rang  out,  as  he  bit  up  a  morsel  of  bread 
and  cheese ;  Zhervais  bubbled  over  with  tinkling  laughter ;  and 
above  all  rang  out  Speransky's  loud,  deliberate  harha-ha. 

Speransky,  still  laughing,  gave  his  soft  white  hand  to  Prince 
Andrei. 

"  Very  glad  to  see  you,  prince,''  said  he.  "  One  minute," 
said  he,  turning  to  Magnitsky,  and  interrupting  the  story  be 
was  telling.  '^  We  have  made  an  agreement  this  time :  dinner 
is  for  recreation,  and  not  a  word  about  business."  And  again 
he  turned  to  the  narrator,  and  again  broke  out  into  laughter. 

Prince  Andrei,  with  amazement  and  sorrowful  disenchant- 
ment, listened  to  this  guffawing,  and  gazed  at  the  hilarious 
Spei^ansky.  It  seemed  to  Prince  Andrei  that  it  was  not  Sper- 
ansky, but  another  man.  All  the  mystery  and  charm  which 
he  had  hitherto  discovered  in  Speransky,' suddenly  seemed 
commonplace  and  repulsive. 

The  conversation  at  tlie  table  did  not  flag  for  a  moment,  and 
seemed  to  consist  of  little  more  than  a  string  of  ludicrous 
stories.  Magnitsky  had  scarcely  time  to  cap  the  climax,  of  his 
story,  when  some  one  else  manifested  his  readiness  to  tell 
something  that  was  even  funnier.  The  anecdotes  were  for 
the  most  part,  if  not  exactly  confined  to  the  world  of  official- 
dom, at  least  related  to  individuals  in  the  service.  It  seemed 
as  though,  in  this  gathering,  the  insignificance  of  such  charac- 


WAR  AND  PEACE,  213 

ters  was  so  thoroughly  taken  for  granted,  that  the  only  way 
in  which  it  was  worth  while  to  speak  of  them  was  to  cover 
them  with  good-natured  ridicule. 

Speransky  related  how  at  the  council  meeting  that  morn- 
ing, one  of  the  statesmen,  who  happened  to  be  deaf,  on  being 
asked  his  opinion,  replied  that  he  was  entirely  agreeable. 
Gervais  related  a  long  incident  in  connection  with  the  census, 
wherein  remarkable  stupidity  had  been  shown  by  all  persons 
concerned.  Stoluipin,  who  had  an  impediment  in  his  speech, 
joined  the  conversation,  and  began  eagerly  to  speak  of  the 
abuses  of  the  former  order  of  things ;  but.  as  this  threatened 
to  give  a  too  serious  character  to  the  talk,  Magnitsky  chaffed 
him  on  his  earnestness.  Gervais  perpetrated  a  pun,  and  again 
the  talk  assumed  its  former  hilarious  character. 

.  Evidently  Speransky,  after  his  labors,  liked  recreation  and 
amusement  in  a  jolly  circle  of  friends ;  and  all  his  guests,  know- 
ing this  characteristic  of  his,  did  their  best  to  make  him  enjoy 
himself,  and  at  the  same  time  to  enjoy  themselves.  But  this 
gayety  seemed  to  Prince  Andrei  forced,  and  the  opposite  of 
gay.  The  ringing  tones  of  Speransky's  voice  impressed  him 
unpleasantly,  and  his  incessant  laughter  had  a  false  ring  to  it 
that  strangely  wounded  his  sensibilities.  Prince  Andrei  could 
not  laugh,  and  he  was  afraid  that  he  should  appear  like  a  kill- 
joy in  the  company.  But  no  one  noticed  that  he  did  not  par- 
ticipate in  the  general  merriment.  It  seemed  to  him  that  all 
were  extremely  gay. 

He  tried  several  times  to  put  in  his  word ;  but  each  time  it 
was  tossed  back,  as  it  were,  like  a  cork  tossed  out  of  the 
water^  and  he  had  no  success  in  jesting  like  the  others.  There 
was  nothing  wrong  or  ill-judged  in  what  they  said  ;  there  was 
wit  and  sense  displayed,  and  it  ought  to  have  been  really  worth 
laughing  at,  but  something,  whatever  it  is,  that  constitutes  the 
salt  of  gayety,  was  lacking;  but,  worse  than  all,  they  did  not 
seem  to  realize  that  it  was. 

After  dinner,  Speransky 's  little  daughter,  with  her  guver- 
nantka,  withdrew.  Speransky  caressed  the  little  girl  with  his 
white  hand,  and  kissed  her.  And  even  this  action  seemed  to 
Prince  Andrei  full  of  affectation. 

The  gentlemen,  after  the  English  fashion,  remained  sitting 
at  table  over  their  port  wine.  The  conversation  had  turned 
on  Napoleon's  management  of  affairs  in  Spain ;  and  as  all  agreed 
in  approving  of  it.  Prince  Andrei  took  it  upon  him  to  disagree 
with  them.  Speransky  smiled,  and,  evidently  wishing  to 
change  the  subject,  tolcl  a  story  which  was  totally  irrelevant. 
Then  silence  ensued  for  several  moments. 


214  ^AR  AND  PEACK. 

Before  they  left  the  table,  Speransky  recorked  a  bottle  in 
which  a  little  wine  was  left,  and  saying,  "  Good  wine  is  ex- 
pensive these  days,"  *  handed  it  to  the  servant,  and  pushed 
back  his  chair. 

All  arose  and,  talking  noisily,  passed  into  the  drawing-room. 
Speransky  was  handed  two  envelopes  brought  by  a  courier. 
He  took  them  and  went  into  his  private  room.  As  soon  as  he 
had  left,  the  general  gayety  subsided,  and  the  guests  began  to 
talk  together  in  subdued  tones  on  matters  of  real  interest. 

"  Well,  then,  now  for  a  recitation ! "  exclaimed  Speransky, 
coming  back  from  his  private  room.  "  Wonderful  talent,"  he 
said,  addressing  Prince  Andrei.  Magnitsky  immediately  as- 
sumed an  attitude,  and  began  to  recite  some  satirical  verses 
which  he  had  written  in  French  upon  certain  well-known  f>er- 
sonages  in  Petersburg,  and  several  times  he  was  interrupted 
by  applause.  At  the  end  of  this  recitation,  Prince  Andrei  went 
to  Speransky  to  take  leave. 

"  Where  must  you  be  going  so  early  ?  "  asked  Speransky. 

"I  promised  to  spend  the  evening"  — 

All  were  silent.  Prince  Andrei  looked  into  Speransky's 
mirror-like  and  impenetrable  eyes,  and  it  seemed  to  him  ridic- 
ulous that  he  had  ever  expected  anything  gi-eat  from  this  Sper- 
ansky, or  of  the  work  which  he  had  undertaken  to  perform,  or 
how  he  could  ever  have  attributed  any  importance  to  what 
Speransky  was  doing.  It  was  long  before  that  dry,  measured 
laugh  of  his  ceased  to  ring  in  his  ears,  even  after  he  had  taken 
his  leave  of  Speransky. 

On  his  return  home,  Prince  Andrei  began  to  live  over  his 
life  in  Petersburg  during  the  four  months  past,  as  though  it 
were  something  new.  He  recalled  his  labors,  his  rounds  of 
solicitation,  the  history  of  his  project  of  the  military  code,  — 
which  had  been  brought  to  notice,  and  then  quietly  laid  on 
the  table,  for  the  sole  reason  that  another  one  of  very  wretched 
character  had  already  been  compiled  and  placed  before  the 
sovereign ;  he  recalled  the  meetings  of  his  committee,  of 
which  Berg  was  a  member ;  he  recalled  how  strenuously  and 
at  what  length  everything  that  touched  upon  the  outside  forms 
and  proceedings  of  their  meetings  had  been  discussed,  and 
how  careful  they  had  been  to  avoid  everything  that  reached 
the  essence  of  the  matter ;  he  recalled  his  judicial  labors,  and 
what  pains  he  had  taken  to  translate  articles  on  the  Roman 
and  French  course  of  procedure  into  Russian ;  —  and  he  grew 
ashamed  of  himself. 

*  "  Good  wine  g<  es  in  fine  boots/'  a  variant  of  a  Russian  proverb. 


WAtt  AND  PKACS.  215 

Then  his  imagination  vividly  brought  up  before  his  mind 
his  estate  of  Bogucharovo,  his  projects  in  the  country,  his  jour- 
ney to  Kiazan ;  he  recalled  his  muzhiks,  and  their  head  man, 
and  he  applied  to  them  his  theory  of  the  individual  rights 
which  he  had  so  carefully  elaborated  into  paragraphs ;  and  he 
was  amazed  at  himself  that  he  could  have  wasted  so  much  time 
in  such  idle  work. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

Ok  the  following  day,  Prince  Andrei  went  to  make  calls 
upon  several  families  where  he  had  not  been  as  yet,  and  in  the 
number  upon  the  Eostofs,  whose  acquaintance  ne  had  renewed 
at  the  last  ball.  Not  only  was  he  required  by  the  laws  of 
politeness  to  call  at  the  Rostofs,  but  he  also  had  a  strong 
desire  to  see  in  her  own  home  this  original  and  lively  young 
girly  of  whom  he  had  such  pleasant  recollections. 

Natasha  happened  to  be  the  first  who  came  down  to  see  him. 
She  wore  a  simple  blue  morning-dress,  and  it  seemed  to  Prince 
Andrei  that  it  was  even  more  becoming  to  her  than  the  one  she 
had  worn  at  the  ball.  She  and  the  rest  of  the  family  received 
Prince  Andrei  simply  and  hospitably,  as  an  old  friend.  The 
whole  family,  which  he  had  at  first  been  inclined  to  criti- 
cise severely,  now  seemed  to  him  charming,  simple-hearted, 
and  cordial  people.  The  old  count  showed  such  genuine  and 
unbounded  hospitality,  and  his  good  nature  was  so  contagious, 
especially  there  in  Petersburg,  that  Prince  Andrei  could  not 
with  good  grace  refuse  his  invitation  to  dinner. 

"  Yes,  they  are  excellent  people,"  said  Bolkonsky  to  him- 
self. "  Of  course  they  cannot  appreciate  what  a  treasure  they 
possess  in  Natasha ;  but  they  are  good,  kindly  people,  and 
they  make  a  most  admirable  background  against  which  to 
bring  out  all  the  charm  of  this  wonderfully  poetical  young  girl, 
so  overflowing  with  vivacity." 

Prince  Andi*ei  felt  that  in  Natasha  existed  a  peculiar  and 
unknown  world,  full  of  unrealized  delights,  —  that  unknown 
world  of  which  he  had  caught  the  first  glimpse  as  he  drove 
through  the  Otradnoye  avenue,  and  then  again  at  the  window 
that  moonlight  night,  when  he  had  l)een  so  stirred  by  it.  Now 
this  world  no  longer  excited  his  curiosity,  no  longer  was  it  a 
strange  world ;  but,  as  he  entered  into  it,  he  realized  that  new 
delight  was  awaiting  him. 

After  dinner,  Natasha,  at  the  count's  request,  went  to  the 


216  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

harpischord  and  began  to  sing.  Prince  Andrei  took  up  liis 
position  by  the  window  and  listened,  while  occasionally  ex- 
changing words  with  the  other  ladies.  When  she  reached  the 
middle  of  a  long  cadenza,  Prince  Andrei  stopped  talking,  and, 
to  his  amazement,  found  that  he  was  choked  with  tears;  a 
thing  which  he  would  not  have  believed  possible  for  him.  He 
looked  at  Natasha  as  she  sang,  and  a  new  and  joyous  feeling 
arose  in  his  heart.  He  was  happy,  and  at  the  same  time 
rather  melancholy.  He  was  ready  to  burst  into  tears,  and  yet 
he  could  not  really  have  told  why  he  felt  like  weeping.  For 
what  ?  —  his  former  love  ?  —  For  the  little  princess  ?  For  his 
disappointed  illusions  ?  For  his  hopes  of  the  future  ?  Yes 
and  no !  The  chief  reason  that  he  felt  like  weeping  was  the 
sudden  awakening  to  that  strange  and  vivid  contradic4;ion 
between  the  boundlessly  immense  and  infinite  that  existed  in 
him,  and  the  narrow  and  limited  world  to  which  he  felt  that 
he  himself,  and  even  she,  belonged. 

This  contrast  tormented,  and,  at  the  same  time,  overjoyed 
him,  while  she  was  singing. 

As  soon  as  Natasha  finished  her  song,  she  went  to  him  and 
asked  him  frankly  how  he  liked  her  voice.  She  asked  the 
question,  and  was  overwhelmed  with  confusion,  the  moment 
she  had  spoken ;  realizing,  when  it  was  too  late,  that  she  ought 
not  to  have  asked  it.  He  smiled  as  he  looked  at  her,  and 
replied  that  he  liked  her  singing  just  as  he  liked  everything 
else  that  she  did. 

It  was  late  that  evening  before  Prince  Andrei  left  the-  Bos- 
tofs'.  He  went  to  bed  as  usual,  but  soon  found  that  he  had  a 
sleepless  night  before  him.  Now  he  would  relight  his  candle 
and  sit  up  in  bed ;  then  he  would  get  up ;  then  he  would  lie 
down  again :  still,  he  was  not  in  the  least  oppressed  by  this 
sleeplessness :  his  soul  was  so  full  of  new  and  joyful  sensa- 
tions, that  it  seemed  to  him  as  if  he  had  just  emerged  from  a 
sultry  chamber  into  God's  free  world.  Nor  did  it  once  occur 
to  him  that  he  was  in  love  with  the  young  Countess  Bostova ; 
he  did  not  think  of  her,  he  only  imagined  her  himself;  and 
the  consequence  of  this  was  that  all  his  whole  life  presented 
itself  to  him  in  a  new  light. 

"Why  am  I  struggling,  why  am  I  toiling  and  moiling  in  this 
narrow,  petty  environment,  when  life,  all  of  life,  with  all  its 
pleasures,  is  open  before  me  ?  "  he  asked  himself. 

And  for  the  first  time  for  long  months,  he  began  to  devise 
cheerful  plans  for  the  future.  He  decided  that  it  was  his  duty 
to  undertake  personally  the  education  of  his  son,  to  find  him 


y]^Ak  ANb  PEACE.  217 

an  instructor,  and  put  him  into  his  hands ;  then  he  would  quit 
the  service  and  travel  abroad,  and  see  England,  Switzerland, 
and  Italy. 

"  I  must  make  the  most  of  my  freedom,  since  1  feel  myself 
so  overflowing  with  strength  and  energy,"  said  he  to  himself. 
"  Pierre  was  right  in  saying  that  one  ought  to  believe  in  the 
possibility  of  happiness,  and  now  I  believe  it  is  so.  Let  the 
dead  bury  their  dead ;  but,  while  we  are  alive,  let  us  live,"  he 
thought. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

Onb  morning.  Colonel  Adolph  Berg,  with  whom  Pierre  was 
acquainted,  just  as  he  was  acquainted  with  every  one  in  Peters- 
burg and  Moscow,  came  to  see  him.  He  was  dressed  in  an 
immaculate  and  brand-new  uniform,  with  little  love-locks  curl- 
ing round  over  his  temples,  and  pomaded  there,  just  as  the 
sovereicrn  wore  them. 

"  I  have  just  come  from  calling  upon  the  countess,  your  wife, 
and  I  was  so  unfortimate  in  not  being  able  to  have  my  request 
granted !  I  hope,  count,  that  I  shall  be  more  successful  with 
you,"  said  he,  with  a  smile. 

"  What  would  you  like,  colonel  ?  I  am  at  your  service." 

"I  am  now  quite  completely  settled  in  my  new  rooms, 
count,"  pursued  Berg,  evidently  convinced  in  his  own  mind 
that  this  communication  could  not  fail  to  be  an  agreeable 
piece  of  news.  "  And,  consequently,  I  wanted  to  have  a  little 
reception  for  my  friends  and  my  wife^s."  He  smiled  more 
effusively  than  ever.  "  I  wanted  to  ask  the  countess  and 
yourself  to  do  me  the  honor  to  come  and  take  tea  with  us, 
and — and  have  supper." 

Only  the  Countess  Elena  Vasilyevna,  who  considered  the 
society  of  such  people  as  the  Bergs  beneath  her,  could  have 
had  the  heart  to  refuse  such  an  invitation.  Berg  explained  so 
clearly  why  he  desired  to  gather  around  him  a  small  and  select 
company,  and  why  it  would  be  pleasant,  and  why  he  grudged 
money  spent  on  cards,  and  other  disreputable  occupations,  but 
was  willing  to  go  to  large  outlay  in  entertaining  good  com- 
pany, that  Pierre  could  not  think  of  refusing,  and  agreed  to  be 
present. 

"  Only  don't  come  late,  count,  if  I  may  be  so  bold  as  to  beg 
of  you ;  at  ten  minutes  to  eight,  I  beg  of  you.  We  will  have 
some  whist;  our  general  will  come,  —  he  is  veiy  good  to  me. 


218  ♦  WAii  AND  PEACE. 

We  will  haye  a  good  supper,  count    So  please  do  me  the 
favor." 

Contrary  to  his  usual  habit  of  being  late,  Pierre  that  evening 
reached  the  Bergs  at  quarter  to  eight ;  five  minutes  before  the 
appointed  time. 

The  Bergs,  having  made  every  provision  for  the  reception, 
were  all  ready  and  waiting  for  their  guests  to  come. 

Berg  and  his  wife  were  sitting  together  in  their  library,  all 
new  and  bright,  and  well  provided  with  statuary  and  paintings 
and  new  furniture.  Berg  in  a  nice  new  uniform,  tightly  but- 
toned up,  was  sitting  near  his  wife,  explaining  to  her  that  it 
was  always  possible  and  proper  to  have  acquaintances  among 
people  of  high  station,  that  being  the  only  real  advantage  in 
having  friends.  '^  You  can  always  find  somethuig  to  imitate, 
and  can  ask  any  sort  of  advice.  You  see,  that's  the  way  I 
have  done  ever  since  1  was  first  promoted."  —  Berg  did  not 
reckon  his  life  according  to  his  years,  but  according  to  the  va- 
rious steps  of  promotion.  —  '^  My  comrades  have  amounted  to 
nothing,  but,  at  the  first  vacancy,  I  shall  be  made  regimental 
commander ;  and  then,  1  have  the  happiness  of  being  your  hus- 
band." He  got  up  and  kissed  Viera's  hand,  but  before  he  did 
so,  he  straightened  out  the  corner  of  a  rug  that  was  turned  up. 
"  And  how  have  I  accomplished  all  this  ;  principally;  by  exer- 
cising a  choice  in  my  acquaintances.  Of  course,  though,  one 
has  to  be  straightforward  and  punctual."  Berg  smiled  with 
the  consciousness  of  his  superiority  over  a  weak  woman,  and 
relapsed  into  silence  ;  saying  to  himself,  that  his  wife,  lovely 
as  she  was,  was,  nevertheless,  a  feeble  woman,  unable  to  ap- 
preciate the  full  significance  of  the  dignity  of  being  a  man  — 
ein  Mann  zu  sein  / 

Viera,  at  the  same  time,  smiled  with  a  similar  consciousness 
of  her  superiority  over  her  good,  worthy  spouse ;  who,  never- 
theless, like  the  rest  of  his  sex,  was  quite  mistaken,  she  thought, 
in  his  understanding  of  the  meaning  of  life. 

Berg,  judging  by  his  wife,  considered  that  all  women  were 
weak  and  uniutellectual.  Yiera,  judging  by  her  husband  alone, 
and  making  wider  generalizations,  supposed  that  all  men  con- 
sidered no  one  but  themselves  wise ;  and,  at  the  same  time,  had 
no  real  imderstanding,  and  were  haughty  and  egotistical. 

Berg  got  up,  and  embracing  his  wife  carefully,  —  so  as  not 
to  rumple  her  lace  pelerine,  for  which  he  had  paid  a  high  price, 
—  kissed  her  on  the  centre  of  the  lips. 

"  There  is  one  thing,  —  we  must  not  begin  to  have  children 
too  soon,"  said  he,  by  an  unconscious  correlation  of  ideas. 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  219 

"  Yes,"  replied  Viera.  "  That's  exactly  what  I  want.  We 
must  live  for  society." 

**  The  Princess  Yusupovaya  has  one  exactly  like  this,"  said 
Berg,  laying  his  finger  on  the  lace  pelerine,  with  his  honest, 
happy  smile. 

At  this  time,  Count  Bezukhoi  was  announced.  The  young 
couple  exchanged  congratulatory  glances,  each  arrogating  the 
credit  of  this  visit. 

''This  is  what  comes  of  understanding  how  to  form 
acquaintances,"  said  Berg.     "  This  comes  of  having  tact !  " 

"  Now,  I  beg  of  you,  don't  interrupt  me  when  I  am  talking 
with  guests,"  said  Viera.  "  Because  I  know  how  to  receive 
each  one,  and  what  to  talk  to  them  about." 

Berg  also  smiled. 

"  Of  course ;  but  sometimes,  among  men,  there  must  be  con- 
versation for  men,"  said  he. 

Pierre  was  shown  into  the  new  drawing-room,  where  one 
could  not  possibly  take  a  seat  without  destroying  the  sym- 
metry, neatness,  and  order  that  reigned  there;  and,  conse- 
quently, it  was  perfectly  comprehensible  and  not  to  be 
wondered  at,  that  it  required  much  magnanimity  of  Berg  to 
allow  this  symmetry  of  chair  or  sofa  to  be  disturbed  for  his 
beloved  guest ;  or  that,  by  reason  of  finding  himself  in  a  state 
of  painful  irresolution  in  regard  to  it,  he  should  have  allowed 
his  guest  to  solve  the  problem  in  his  own  way.  Pierre,  ac- 
cordingly, broke  into  the  symmetry  by  pushing  out  a  chair ;  and 
immediately  after,  Berg  and  Viera  came  in  and  began  to  talk, 
each  interrupting  the  other,  and  trying  to  entertain  their  guest. 

Viera,  deciding  in  her  own  mind  that  Pierre  would  natu- 
rally be  interested  in  the  French  embassy,  immediately  began 
to  talk  about  it.  Berg,  deciding  that  a  more  virile  subject 
must  be  chosen,  broke  into  his  wife's  discourse  by  raising  a 
question  in  regard  to  the  war  with  Austria ;  and  found  himself 
involuntarily  digressing  from  the  abstract  topic  to  various  con- 
crete proposals  which  had  been  laid  before  him  in  regard  to 
taking  part  in  the  Austrian  campaign,  and  the  reasons  which 
had  led  him  to  decline  them. 

Although  the  conversation  was  desultory,  and  Viera  was 
indignant  that  this  masculine  element  should  have  been  intro- 
duced, both  husband  and  wife  had  a  feeling  of  satisfaction  that, 
though  as  yet  there  was  only  one  guest,  still  the  evening  had 
begun  auspiciously,  and  that  their  reception  was  going  to  be 
like  every  other  reception  —  with  talk,  tea,  and  brightly  lighted 
candles  — as  like,  in  fact,  as  two  drops  of  water. 


220  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

Shortly  after,  Boris  appeared,  he  having  been  Berg's  for!n<*r 
comrade.  He  treated  Berg  and  Viera  with  a  shade  of  suj^eri- 
ority  and  condescension.  Boris  was  followed  by  a  colonel  and 
his  lady,  then  Berg's  own  general,  then  the  Rostofs ;  and  the 
reception  by  this  time,  without  a  shadow  of  a  doubt,  began  to 
resemble  all  other  receptions. 

Berg  and  Viera  could  not  refrain  from  a  blissful  smile  at 
the  sight  of  this  stir  in  the  drawing-room,  at  the  clatter  of 
disconnected  snatches  of  conversation,  at  the  rustle  of  silken 
dresses,  and  the  greetings. 

Everything  was  just  as  it  would  be  everywhere  else ;  espe- 
cially so  was  the  general,  who  could  not  find  enough  to  say  in 
praise  of  Berg's  apartments,  and  patted  him  on  the  shoulder, 
and  with  fatherly  authority  arranged  the  disposition  of  the 
tables  for  Boston.  The  general  then  sat  down  next  Count 
Ilya  Andreyitch,  as  being,  next  to  himself,  the  guest  of  the 
greatest  importance.  The  old  people  gathered  in  groups  by 
themselves,  the  young  people  by  themselves  ;  the  hostess  took 
her  place  at  the  tea-table,  which  was  laid  out  with  exactly  the 
same  kind  of  macaroons,  in  a  silver  cake-basket,  as  the  Panins 
had  had  at  their  reception ;  in  fact,  everything  was  exactly  the 
same  as  at  all  receptions. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

Pierre,  as  one  of  the  most  distinguished  guests  of  the  even- 
ing, naturally  had  to  play  Boston  in  the  set  with  Count  Ilya 
Andreyitch,  the  general,  and  the  colonel.  It  happened  that 
his  place  at  the  table  brought  him  opposite  Natasha,  and  he 
could  not  help  being  struck  by  the  strange  change  that  had 
come  over  her  since  the  evening  of  the  ball.  She  spoke 
scarcely  a  word,  and  was  not  so  pretty  as  she  had  been  at  the 
ball ;  indeed,  she  would  have  looked  plain,  if  it  had  not  been 
for  her  sweet  expression  of  resignation. 

"  What  is  the  matter  with  her  ? "  Pierre  wondered,  as  he 
looked  at  her.  She  Avas  sitting  next  her  sister  at  the  tea-table, 
and  with  an  air  of  utter  indifference,  and  without  even  look- 
ing at  him,  answered  some  remark  that  Boris  had  made  to  her. 
Having  played  out  a  whole  suit,  and  taken  five  tricks,  greatly 
to  his  partner's  satisfaction,  Pierre,  as  he  gathered  up  his 
cards,  was  again  led  to  look  at  her,  by  hearing  complimentary 
greetings,  and  then  the  steps  of  some  one  entering  the  room. 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  221 

^'  What  has  happened  to  her  ?  "  he  asked  himself,  with  eyen 
more  wonder  than  before. 

Prince  Andrei,  with  an  expression  of  protecting  affection, 
was  now  standing  in  front  of  her,  and  saying  something  to  her. 
She  had  lifted  her  head,  and  was  gazing  at  him  with  flushed 
cheeks,  and  apparently  striving  to  restrain  her  rapid  breath- 
ing. And  the  brilliant  light  of  a  strange  inner  fire,  till  then 
suppressed,  again  flashed  up  in  her.  She  was  wholly  trans- 
figured :  instead  of  being  plain,  she  was  as  radiantly  beauti- 
ful as  she  had  been  at  the  ball. 

Prince  Andrei  came  toward  Pierre,  and  Pierre  noticed  a  new 
and  youthful  expression  in  his  friend's  face. 

Pierre  changed  his  seat  several  times  during  the  game,  some- 
times being  before  Natasha,  and  sometimes  behind ;  but,  dur- 
ing all  the  time  of  the  six  rubbers,  he  kept  watching  her  and 
his  friend. 

"  There  is  something  very  serious  going  on  between  them," 
said  Pierre  to  himself ;  and  a  feeling  of  mingled  joy  and  sad- 
ness stirred  him,  and  made  him  forget  his  own  grief. 

After  the  sixth  rubber,  the  general  got  up,  declaring  that  it 
was  an  impossibility  to  play  in  such  a  way,  and  Pierre  was  re- 
leased. Natasha,  on  one  side,  was  talking  with  Sonya  and 
Boris :  Yiera,  with  a  slight  smile  on  her  face,  was  talking  to 
Prince  Andrei  about  something  or  other. 

Pierre  joined  his  friend,  and,  asking  what  secret  they  were 
discussing  together,  took  a  seat  near  them.  Viera,  having 
noticed  Prince  Andrei's  attention  to  Natasha,  had  decided  that 
that  evening,  that  very  evening,  it  was  an  unavoidable  necessity 
for  her  to  drop  some  shrewd  insinuations  in  regard  to  the  feel- 
ings ;  and  so  she  took  advantage  of  a  moment  when  Prince 
Andrei  was  alone  to  begin  a  talk  about  the  sensibilities  in  gen- 
eral, and  about  her  sister  in  particular.  With  such  a  clever 
man  as  she  knew  Prince  Andrei  to  be,  she  was  obliged  to  prac- 
tise her  most  refined  diplomacy. 

When  Pierre  joined  them,  he  noticed  that  Viera  was  talk- 
ing with  great  eloquence  and  self-satisfaction;  while  Prince 
Andrei  seemed  rather  confused,  —  which  was  a  rare  thing  with 
him. 

"What  is  your  opinion?"  asked  Viera,  with  her  slight 
smile.  "  You  have  such  keen  insight,  prince,  and  are  so  quick 
to  read  people's  characters  :  what  do  you  think  of  Nathalie  ? 
Would  she  be  likely  to  be  constant  in  her  attachments  ? 
would  she  be  like  other  women,"  —  Viera  had  herself  in  mind, 
—  "  and  love  a  man  once,  and  remain  forever  faithful  to  him  ? 


222  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

That  is   what  I  call  genuine  love.      What  do  you  think, 
prince  ?  " 

'^  I  have  too  slight  an  acqaaiiitance  with  your  sister,"  replied 
Prince  Andrei  with  a  satirical  smile,  under  which  he  tried 
to  hide  his  confusion,  ^'  to  decide  upon  such  a  delicate  question ; 
and  then  I  have  noticed  that  the  less  attractive  a  woman  is, 
the  more  likely  she  is  to  be  constant,"  he  added,  and  looked 
at  Pierre,  who  had  just  at  that  instant  joined  them. 

"  Yes,  that  is  true,  prince ;  in  our  days,"  pursued  Viera,  — 
speaking  of  "our  days  "  in  the  way  affected  by  people  of  limited 
intelligence,  who  suppose  that  they  are  the  only  ones  who  dis- 
cover and  appreciate  the  peculiarities  of  their  time,  and  that 
the  natures  of  people  change  with  the  changing  years  — "young 
girls  have  so  much  freedom,  that  the  pleasure  of  being  wooed  — 
le  plaisir  (Petre  courtisee  —  often  stifles  their  true  feelings.  M 
Nathalie,  il  faut  ravouer,  y  est  tres  sensible.  Yes,  she's  very 
susceptible  to  it." 

This  reference  to  Natasha  again  caused  Prinoe  Andrei  to 
scowl  disagreeably  ;  he  was  about  to  rise,  but  Viera  proceeded 
with  a  still  more  subtle  smile,  — 

"  I  think  no  one  has  ever  been  more  eourtisee  than  she  has," 
said  Viera.  "  But  no  one  had  ever  really  seriously  succeeded 
in  pleasing  her,  until  very  recently.  You  must  know,  count," 
said  she,  siddressing  Pierre,  "  even  our  dear  cousin  Boris  has 
been,  entre  nous,  has  been  very,  very  far  gone  dans  le  pays  du 
tendre,^' 

Prince  Andrei  scowled  still  more  ominously,  but  said  nothing. 

"  You  and  Boris  are  friends,  are  you  not  ?  "  asked  Viera. 

"  Yes,  I  know  him." 

"  I  suppose  he  has  told  you  about  his  boyish  love  for  Na- 
tasha ?  " 

"Ah,  so  it  was  a  boyish  love,  was  it?"  suddenly  asked 
Prince  Andrei,  unexpectedly  reddening. 

"  Yes  !  You  know  sometimes  this  intimacy  between  cousins 
leads  to  love  ;  cousin  hood  is  a  risky  neighborhood !  that's  true, 
isn't  it  ?  "  * 

"  Oh,  yes,  without  doubt,"  said  Prince  Andrei ;  and  suddenly 
becoming  unnaturally  excited,  he  began  to  rally  Pierre  on  his 
duty  to  be  on  his  guard  against  any  intimacy  with  his  fifty- 
year-old  cousins  in  Moscow ;  and  then,  right  in  the  midst  of 
his  jesting  talk,  he  got  up,  and  taking  Pierre  bj'^the  arm,  drew 
him  aside. 

•  "  Da.  Vovs  savez  entre  cousin  ei  cotisine  cette  intimiU  mhu  quelqu^foii 
a  V amour  ;  le  cousinage  est  un  dangereux  voisinage  !  N'e9t  cepa$f  " 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  228 

"Well!  what  is  it?"  asked  Pierre,  amazed  at  his  friend's 
strange  excitement,  and  remarking  the  look  which,  as  he  got 
up,  he  threw  in  Natasha's  direction. 

"  I  must,  I  really  must  have  a  talk  with  you,"  said  Prince 
AndreL  "  You  know  our  gloves,"  —  he  referred  to  the 
Masonic  gloves,  which  a  newly  initiated  brother  was  to  pre- 
sent to  the  lady  of  his  love.  —  "I  —  but  no  —  I  will  talk  with 
you  about  it  by  and  by."  And  with  a  strange  light  in  his 
eyes,  and  a  restlessness  in  his  motions.  Prince  Andrei  crossed 
over  to  Natasha  and  sat  down.  Pierre  saw  how  he  asked  her 
some  question,  and  how  she  blushed  as  she  answered  him. 

But  just  at  that  moment.  Berg  came  up  to  Pierre,  and  urged 
him  to  take  part  in  a  discussion  between  the  general  and  the 
colonel,  on  Spanish  affairs. 

Berg  was  satisfied  and  happy.  That  blissful  smile  of  his  did 
not  once  fade  from  his  face.  The  evening  had  been  a  success, 
and  exactly  like  other  receptions  which  he  had  attended.  The 
parallelism  was  complete.  The  nice  little  gossipy  chats  be- 
tween the  ladies ;  the  cards,  and  the  general  raising  his  voice 
over  the  game  ;  the  samovar  and  the  macaroons  !  One  thing 
only  was  lacking,  which  he  had  always  seen  at  receptions,  and 
which  he  wished  to  imitate  :  that  was  a  loud  conversation  be- 
tween the  men,  and  a  discussion  over  some  grave  and  moment- 
ous question.  The  general  had  begun  this  conversation,  and 
now  Berg  carried  Pierre  off  to  take  part  in  it. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

The  next  day.  Prince  Andrei  went  to  the  Rostof  s'  to  dinner, 
in  accordance  with  Count  Ilya  Andreyitch's  invitation,  and 
spent  the  whole  evening  there.  All  in  the  house  had  an  ink- 
ling of  the  reason  of  Prince  Andrei's  visits,  and  he  made 
no  secret  of  it,  but  spent  what  time  he  could  in  Natasha's 
company. 

Not  only  was  Natasha,  in  her  heart  of  hearts,  frightened  and 
yet  blissful,  and  full  of  enthusiasm;  but  all  the  household 
also,  felt  a  sort  of  awe,  in  the  anticipation  of  a  great  and  sol- 
emn event.  The  countess,  with  melancholy  and  gravely  wist- 
ful eyes,  gazed  at  Prince  Andrei,  as  he  talked  with  Natasha, 
and,  with  a  sort  of  timidity,  tried  to  introduce  some  indifferent 
topic,  as  soon  as  he  turned  to  her.  Sonya  was  afraid  to  leave 
Natasha,  and  ec^ually  afraid  that  she  was  in  their  way,  when 


224  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

she  was  with  her.  Natasha  grew  pale  with  fear  and  expecta- 
tion, if  by  chance  she  were  left  alone  with  him  for  a  moment. 
Prince  Andrei's  timidity  amazed  her.  She  felt  certain  that 
he  had  something  to  say  to  her,  but  had  not  the  courage  to 
speak  his  mind. 

In  the  evening,  when  Prince  Andrei  had  taken  his  depart- 
ure, the  countess  went  to  Natasha. 

"  Well  ?  "  said  she  in  a  whisper. 

''Mamma,  for  pity's  sake,  don't  ask  me  any  questions  now. 
It  is  impossible  to  tell." 

Nevertheless,  that  night,  Natasha,  at  one  moment  full  of 
excitement,  at  the  next  full  of  trepidation,  lay  for  a  long  time 
in  her  mother's  bed,  with  eyes  fixed  on  space.  Now  she  would 
tell  her  mother  how  he  praised  her,*and  how  he  said  he  was 
going  abroad,  and  how  he  asked  her  where  they  were  going  to 
spend  the  summer,  and  how  he  had  asked  her  about  Boris. 

'•'  Well,  it's  so  strange,  so  strange !  I  never  knew  anything 
like  it  before,"  said  she.  "  But  I  have  such  a  feeling  of  ter- 
ror when  he  is  here ;  I  always  feel  afraid  when  I  am  with  him ; 
what  does  it  mean?  Does  it  mean  that  it  is  really  and 
truly  ? Mamma,  are  you  asleep  ?  " 

"No,  my  dear — dusha  mdya  —  I  confess  to  the  same  feel- 
ing of  terror,"  replied  the  mother.     "  GrO,  now ! " 

"  I  sha'n't  go  to  sleep,  all  the  same.  How  silly  it  would  be 
to  go  to  sleep  !  Mamasha,  mamasha,  nothing  like  it  ever  hap- 
pened to  me  before,"  said  she,  in  amazement  and  awe  at  the 
feeling  which  she  was  now  experiencing.  "  How  could  we 
possibly  have  imagined  such  a  thing  ?  " 

It  seemed  to  Natasha  that  even  as  long  ago  as  when 
Prince  Andrei  had  come  to  Otradnoye,  she  had  fallen  in  love 
with  him  at  first  sight.  She  was  terror-stricken,  as  it  were,  at 
that  strange,  unexpected  happiness  in  meeting  again  with  the 
very  man  whom  she  had  —  as  she  persuaded  herself  —  chosen 
for  her  husband  then,  and  feeling  that  he  was  not  indifferent 
to  her.  "And  it  had  to  be  that  he  should  come  to  Petersburg 
just  at  the  time  when  we  were  here  ;  and  it  had  to  be  that  we 
should  meet  at  that  ball.  It  is  evident  that  all  this  brought 
us  together.  Even  when  I  saw  him  first,  I  felt  something 
peculiar." 

"  What  is  it  he  has  said  to  you  ?  What  were  those  verses  ? 
Repeat  them  to  me,"  said  the  countess,  trying  to  recall  some 
verses  which  Prince  Andrei  had  written  in  Natasha's  album. 

"  Mamma,  it's  nothing  to  be  ashamed  of  because  he  is  a  wid- 
ower, is  it  ?  " 


WAR  ASD  PEACE.  225 

^*  Don't  talk  nonsense,  Natasha.  Pray  to  Crod !  Les  mar- 
riages se  font  dans  les  eieux  !  " 

*'  Sweetheart !  *  mamasha !  how  I  love  you,  how  good  you 
are  ! "  cried  Natasha,  shedding  tears  of  bliss  and  emotion,  and 
hugging  her  mother. 

At  that  same  time,  Prince  Andrei  was  at  Pierre's,  telling 
him  about  his  love  for  Natasha,  and  his  firm  intention  of  mar- 
rying her. 

That  same  evening,  the  Countess  Elena  Yasilyevna  had 
given  a  rout.  The  French  ambassador  had  been  there;  the 
foreigfn  prince,  who  for  some  time  had  been  a  frequent  visitor 
at  the  countess's,  had  been  present ;  as  well  as  a  throng  of  bril- 
liant ladies  and  gentlemen.  Pierre  had  come  down  and  wan- 
dered through  the  rooms,  attracting  general  notice  among  the 
guests,  by  his  concentrated,  distracted,  and  gloomy  looks. 

Pierre,  ever  since  the  time  of  the  ball,  had  been  conscious 
that  attacks  of  his  old  enemy,  hypochondria,  were  imminent ; 
and,  with  the  energy  of  despair,  he  had  struggled  to  get  the 
better  of  them.  Since  this  prince  had  become  the  countess's 
acknowledged  admirer,  Pierre  had  unexpectedly  been  appointed 
one  of  the  emperor's  chamberlains ;  and  from  that  time  forth, 
he  began  to  feel  a  great  burden  and  loathing  in  grand  society, 
and  more  often  his  former  gloomy,  pessimistic  thoughts,  about 
the  falsity  of  all  things  human,  began  to  come  back  to  him. 

At  this  particular  time,  this  tendency  to  gloominess  was  ac- 
cented by  the  discovery  of  the  sympathy  existing  between  his 
little  protegee  Natasha  and  Prince  Andrei,  and  by  the  contrast 
between  his  own  position  and  his  friend's.  He  vainly  struggled 
to  banish  the  thought  about  his  wife,  and  about  Natasha  and 
Prince  Andrei.  But  everything  began  once  more  to  seem  in- 
significant in  comparison  with  eternity,  and  again  the  question 
arose,  "  To  what  end  ?  " 

Night  and  day  he  compelled  himself  to  toil  over  his  Masonic 
labors,  hoping  to  exorcise  the  demon  that  hovered  near  him. 

At  midnight,  Pierre  came  from  the  countess's  apartments  to 
his  own  low-studded  room,  which  smelled  of  stale  tobacco,  and 
had  just  sat  down  at  the  table  in  his  soiled  dressing-gown,  and 
started  to  finish  copying  certain  original  documents  from  Scot- 
land, when  some  one  came  into  the  room.  It  was  Prince 
Andrei. 

<<  Oh,  it's  you,  is  it  ?  "  said  Pierre,  in  an  abstracted  and  not 
over-cordial  manner. 

VOL.  2.  — 16. 


226  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

'^  I  was  hard  at  work,  you  see/'  said  he,  pointing  to  his 
copy-book,  where  he  had  been  working  for  dear  life,  just  as 
wretched  people,  in  their  efforts  to  save  themselves  from  the 
wretchedness  of  their  lives,  take  up  any  occupation  that  comes 
to  hand.  Prince  Andrei,  his  face  radiant  with  joy,  and  kindled 
with  new  life,  came  and  stood  in  front  of  Pierre ;  and,  not  per- 
ceiving how  wretched  his  friend  was,  smiled  down  on  him  with 
the  egotism  of  happiness. 

"  Well,  my  dear,"  said  he,  "  last  evening  I  wanted  to  tell 
you  something,  and  now  I  have  come  to  unbosom  myself.  It 
is  something  wholly  unprecedented  in  my  experience.  I  am 
in  love,  my  dear  fellow." 

Pierre  suddenly  drew  a  deep  sigh,  and  stretched  his  clumsy 
form  out  on  the  sofa  near  Prince  Andrei. 

"  With  Natasha  Rostova  ?  Yes  ?  "  said  he. 

"  Yes,  yes,  who  else  could  it  be  ?  I  should  never  have  be- 
lieved it,  but  this  feeling  is  stronger  than  I.  Last  evening  I 
was  tortured,  I  was  miserable ;  but  this  torture  I  would  not 
exchange  for  anything  in  the  world.  I  have  never  lived  till 
now.  Only  now  do  I  live,  and  I  cannot  live  without  her.  Bat 
can  she  love  me  ?  I  am  too  old  for  her.  What  should  you 
say  ?  " 

"  I  ?  I  ?  What  could  I  say  ?  "  suddenly  exclaimed  Pierre, 
springing  up  and  beginning  to  pace  the  room.  "  I  have  always 
thought  —  This  girl  is  such  a  treasui'e,  such  a  —  she  is  a  rare 
maiden,  uiy  dear  fellow :  I  beseech  you,  don't  reason  about  it, 
don't  let  doubts  arise,  but  marry  her — marry  her — marry 
her ;  and  I  am  convinced  that  you  will  be  the  happiest  man 
alive ! " 

"  But  how  about  her  ?  " 

"  She  loves  you  1 " 

'^  Don't  talk  nonsense,"  said  Prince  Andrei,  with  a  smile, 
and  looking  straight  into  Pierre's  eyes. 

"  She  loves  you,  I  know  she  does,"  cried  Pierre  bluntly. 

"  Now  listen ! "  said  Prince  Andrei,  holding  him  by  his  arm. 
*^  Do  you  know  what  a  position  I  am  in  ?  I  must  tell  some  one 
all  about  it ! " 

"Well,  well,  go  on,  I  am  very  glad,"  said  Pierre,  and  in 
reality  his  face  had  changed ;  the  frown  had  smoothed  itself 
out,  and  he  listened  to  Prince  Andrei  with  joyous  sympathy. 
Prince  Andrei  seemed,  and  really  was,  another  and  wholly  new 
man.  Where  had  vanished  his  melancholy,  his  contempt  of 
life,  all  his  disillusion  ?     Pierre  was  the  only  man  in  whose 

presence  he  could  speak  with  ^bsQlute  f rwkuess,  and  heoce 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  227 

he  poured  out  before  him  the  fulness  of  his  heart.  Then  he 
finently  and  boldly  made  plans  for  the  future,  declaring  that 
he  could  not  think  of  sacrificing  his  happiness  to  his  father's 
caprices,  and  expressing  his  hope  that  his  father  would  con- 
sent to  their  marriage,  and  would  come  to  love  Natasha  ;  then 
he  expressed  his  amazement  at  the  strange  and  uncontrollable 
feeling  which  dominated  him. 

''If  any  one  had  predicted  the  possibility  of  my  being  so 
deeply  in  lore,  I  should  not  have  believed  it,"  said  Prince  An- 
drei. ''  It  is  an  entirely  different  sentiment  from  the  one  that 
I  had  formerly.  The  whole  world  is  divided  for  me  into  two 
portions  :  the  one  is  where  she  is,  and  there  all  happiness  and 
hope  and  light  are  found ;  the  other  is  where  she  is  not,  and 
there  everything  is  gloom  and  darkness." 

"  Darkness  and  gloom,"  repeated  Pierre.  "  Yes,  yes,  and 
how  I  appreciate  that ! " 

''I  cannot  help  loving  light,  and  I  am  not  to  blame  for  it. 
And  I  am  very  happy.  Do  you  understand  me  ?  I  know  that 
you  sympathize  witn  my  joy." 

"Yes,  indeed,  I  do,"  said  Pierre  earnestly,  gazing  at  his 
friend  with  tender,  melancholy  eyes.  Prince  Andrei's  fate 
seemed  to  him  all  the  brighter  from  the  vivid  contrast  with 
the  darkness  of  his  own. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

Prikcb  Akdret  required  his  father's  sanction  for  his  mar- 
riage, and  the  next  day  he  se^  out  for  his  home. 

The  old  prince  received  his  son's  communication  with  ex- 
ternal unconcern,  but  with  wrath  in  his  heart.  As  his  own 
life  was  nearing  its  close,  he  could  not  understand  how  any 
one  could  wish  to  make  such  a  change  in  his  life,  to  introduce 
into  it  such  a  new  and  unknown  element. 

"  If  only  they  would  let  me  live  out  my  life  in  my  own  way ! 
then,  when  I  am  gone,  they  can  do  as  they  please,"  said  the  old 
man  to  himself.  With  his  son,  however,  he  made  use  of  that 
diplomacy  which  he  employed  in  matters  of  serious  import. 
Assuming  a  tranquil  tone,  he  summed  the  whole  matter  up : 
In  the  first  place,  the  match  was  not  brilliant,  as  to  the  birth, 
fortune,  or  distinction  of  the  bride's  family.  In  the  second 
place.  Prince  Andrei  was  not  as  young  as  he  had  once  been, 
and  his  health  was  feeble,  —  the  old  prince  laid  especial  stress 
on  this  — and  she  was  very  young.     In  the  third  place,  he  had 


228  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

a  son,  whom  it  would  be  a  shame  to  give  over  to  the  mercy  of 
a  young  stepmother.  "  In  the  fourth  place,  finally,"  said  the 
father,  giving  his  son  an  ironical  look,  "  I  beg  of  you  to  post- 
pone the  affair  for  a  year,  go  abroad,  go  through  a  course  of 
treatment,  find  a  good  German  tutor  for  Prince  Nikolai ;  and 
then,  if  your  love,  passion,  stubbornness,  whatever  you  <»11  it, 
is  as  strong  as  ever,  —  why,  marry  her.  And  this  is  my  last 
word,  remember;  absolutely  my  last  word,"  concluded  the 
old  prince,  in  a  tone  that  signified  that  nothing  could  ever 
change  his  mind. 

Prince  Andrei  clearly  saw  that  the  old  prince  hoped  that 
either  his  sentiments  or  his  prospective  bride's  might  not  with- 
stand the  test  of  a  year;  or  else  that  he  himself  —  since  he  was 
an  old  man  —  might  die  meantime ;  he,  accordingly,  determined 
to  obey  his  father's  wishes,  to  offer  himself,  and  then  post- 
pone the  wedding  for  a  year. 

Three  weeks  after  his  last  call  at  the  Rostofs',  Prince  Andrei 
returned  to  Petersburg. 

The  day  following  her  confidential  talk  with  her  mother, 
Natasha  waited  anxiously  for  Bolkonsky  ;  but  he  did  not  come. 
The  second  day,  and  the  third  day,  it  was  precisely  the  same. 
Pierre,  also,  failed  to  come  ;  ^nd  Natasha,  not  knowing  that 
the  prince  had  gone  to  see  his  father,  could  not  explain  his 
absence. 

Thus  elapsed  three  weeks.  Natasha  had  no  desire  to  go  any- 
where, and  she  wandered  like  a  languid  and  mournful  shadow 
through  the  rooms :  evenings,  she  hid  herself  away  from  the 
others,  and  wept,  and  no  longer  came  to  her  mother's  bed- 
chamber. She  frequently  flushed,  and  her  temper  grew  peev- 
ish. She  had  an  impression  that  everybody  knew  about  her 
disappointment,  and  was  laughing  at  her,  and  pitying  her. 
This  grief,  born  of  pride,  added  to  her  misery,  all  the  more 
from  the  fact  that  it  was  hidden  grief. 

One  time,  she  went  to  the  countess,  and  tried  to  say  some- 
thing, but  suddenly  burst  into  tears.  Her  tears  were  like 
those  of  a  child,  who  has  been  unjustly  punished,  and  knows 
not  why. 

The  countess  tried  to  calm  her ;  but  the  young  girl,  though 
she  at  first  began  to  listen,  suddenly  interrupted  her,  — 

"  Do  stop,  mamma:  I  do  not  even  think  of  him.  He  came, 
and  then  he  stopped  coming — he  stopped  coming,  that's  alL" 

Her  voice  faltered:  she  almost  wept;  but  she  controlled 
herself,  and  went  on,  — 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  229 

''  I  haven't  any  desire  at  all  to  be  married ;  and  I  have  been 
afraid  of  him  all  the  time :  I'm  perfectly  content  now,  per- 
fectly content/' 

On  the  day  following  this  conversation,  Natasha  put  on  an 
old  dress  for  which  she  had  an  especially  tender  feeling,  owing 
to  the  gay  times  which  she  had  enjoyed  when  wearing  it  in 
days  past ;  and  from  that  morning  she  once  more  resumed  the 
occupations  that  she  had  dropped  since  the  time  of  the  ball. 
After  she  had  drunk  her  tea,  she  went  into  the  ballroom,  which 
she  liked  on  account  of  its  powerful  resonance,  and  began  to 
practise  her  solfeggi  and  other  exercises.  After  she  had 
finished  her  lesson,  she  stood  in  the  middle  of  the  room  and 
repeated  a  single  musical  phrase  which  pleased  her  more  than 
others.  She  joyfully  listened  to  the  charming  and  apparently 
unexpected  way  in  which  these  notes  reverberated  through 
the  empty  spaces  of  the  ballroom,  and  slowly  died  away ;  and 
suddenly  her  heart  grew  lighter. 

''  What  is  the  use  of  thinking  so  much  about  it  all !  it  is 
good  as  it  is,"  said  she  to  herself,  and  she  began  to  pace 
up  and  down  the  room :  not  content  with  simply  walking  along 
the  echoing  inlaid  floor,  but  at  every  step  —  she  wore  her 
favorite  new  slippers  —  setting  her  little  heels  down  first,  and 
then  her  toes  ;  and  finding  no  more  enjoyment  in  the  sounds 
of  her  voice  than  in  the  regular  clapping  of  the  heel  and  the 
creaking  of  the  toe.  As  she  passed  by  a  mirror,  she  glanced 
into  it. 

<^  What  a  girl  I  am ! "  the  expression  of  her  f ace,  as  she 
caught  sight  of  the  reflection  in  the  glass,  seemed  to  say.  '<  It's 
all  good !  I  need  no  one." 

A  lackey  was  on  the  point  of  coming  in  to  make  some  arrange- 
ments in  the  ballroom ;  but  she  sent  him  away,  closing  the 
door  after  him,  and  then  continued  her  walk.  Now  again, 
this  morning,  she  resumed  her  former  favorite  habit  of  loving 
and  admiring  her  own  sweet  self. 

<<  How  charming  this  Natasha  is ! "  she  was  saving,  as  though 
the  words  were  spoken  by  some  third  person,  the  man  of  her 
imagination.  "Pretty,  a  good  voice,  young,  and  she  does  not 
interfere  with  any  one  :  only  leave  her  in  peace  ! " 

But  even  if  she  had  been  left  in  peace,  she  could  not  have 
been  calm ;  and  of  this  she  was  immediately  made  aware. 

The  front  door  into  the  vestibule  was  opened,  and  some  one 
asked,  — 

"  Are  they  at  home  ?  "  and  then  a  man's  steps  were  heard. 
Natasha  was  gazing  into  the  mirror^  bat  she  did  not  see  her- 


230  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

self.  She  heard  voices  in  the  vestibule.  When  her  face  again 
cleared  itself  before  her  eyes,  she  was  pale. 

It  was  he  /  She  was  sure  of  it,  though  she  could  barelj 
distinguish  the  voices  through  the  closed  doors. 

Pale  and  frightened,  Natasha  ran  into  the  drawing-room. 

"  Mamma,  Bolkonsky  has  come,"  she  cried.  "  Mamma !  this 
is  dreadful !  this  is  unendurable  !  I  will  not  be  tortured  so ! 
What  shall  I  do  ?  " 

The  countess  had  not  time  to  answer  a  word,  when  Prince 
Andrei,  with  a  gi*ave  and  anxious  face,  was  shown  in.  As  soon 
as  he  caught  sight  of  Natasha,  a  flash  of  joy  lighted  it.  He 
kissed  the  countess's  hand,  alid  Natasha's,  and  took  a  seat  near 
the  sofa. 

"  It  is  a  long  time  since  we  have  had  the  pleasure  "  —  the 
countess  began  to  say,  but  Prince  Andrei  interrupted  her.  He 
answered  her  implied  question,  and  was  evidently  anxious  to 
speak  what  was  on  his  mind  as  soon  as  possible. 

"  I  have  not  been  to  see  you  all  this  time,  for  the  reason  that 
I  went  to  confer  with  my  father.  I  only  returned  yesterday 
evening,"  he  said,  glancing  at  Natasha.  ^'I  should  like  to 
have  a  little  converaation  with  you,  countess,"  he  added,  after 
a  moment's  silence. 

The  countess,  drawing  a  long  sigh,  dropped  her  eyes. 

"  I  am  at  your  service,"  she  murmured. 

Natasha  knew  that  it  was  her  duty  to  leave  the  room,  but 
she  found  it  impossible  to  stir:  something  choked  her,  and 
she  stared  at  Prince  Andrei,  almost  rudely,  with  wide  eyes. 

"  What !  so  soon  ?  this  very  moment  ?  —  No :  it  cannot 
be  !  "  she  said  to  herself. 

He  again  looked  at  her,  and  this  glance  told  her  that  beyond 
a  peradventure  she  was  not  deceived. 

Yes :  her  fate  was  to  be  decided  instantly,  that  moment, 
then  and  there ! 

"  Go,  Natasha,  I  will  send  for  you,"  whispered  the  conntess. 

Natasha,  with  startled,  pleading  eyes,  looked  at  her  mother, 
and  at  Prince  Andrei,  and  left  the  room.     , 

'^  I  have  come,  countess,  to  ask  your  daughter's  hand,"  said 
Prince  Andrei. 

The  countess's  face  flushed,  but  she  said  nothing. 

"  Your  proposal "  —  began  the  countess  gravely.  Prince 
Andrei  waited,  and  looked  into  her  eyes.  "  Your  proposal "  — 
she  grew  confused — "is  very  pleasing  to  us,  and — and  I 
accept,  accept  your  proposal,  with  pleasure.  And  my  husband, 
—  I  hope  —  but  it  will  depend  upon  herself." 


WAR  AND  P^ACE.  2S1 

"  I  will  ask  her  as  soon  as  I  receive  your  permission  :  will 
you  grant  it  ?  "  said  Prince  Andrei. 

"  Yes,"  said  the  countess,  and  she  offered  him  her  hand ; 
and,  with  a  mixed  feeling  of  alienation  and  affection,  touched 
his  brow  with  her  lips,  as  he  bent  over  her  hand.  She  was 
ready  to  love  him  as  a  son  ;  but  she  was  conscious  that  he  held 
her  at  a  distance,  and  filled  her  with  a  sort  of  terror.  "  I  am 
sure  that  my  husband  will  give  his  consent,"  said  the  countess ; 
"  but  your  bdtyushka  "  — 

"  My  father,  to  whom  I  have  confided  my  plans,  has  con- 
sented; on  the  express  stipulation  that  the  wedding  should 
not  take  place  within  a  year ;  and  this  was  the  very  thing 
that  I  wished  to  tell  you,"  said  Prince  Andrei. 

'<  It  is  true  that  Natasha  is  still  young,  but  a  year  is  a  long 
time"  — 

"  There  is  no  alternative,"  said  Prince  Andrei,  with  a  sigh. 

"  I  will  send  her  to  you,"  said  the  countess,  and  she  left  the 
room. 

"  Lord,  have  mercy  upon  us  ! "  she  repeated,  over  and  over, 
as  she  went  in  search  of  her  daughter.  Sonya  said  that  Na- 
tasha was  in  her  chamber.  She  found  her  sitting  on  her  bed, 
pale,  with  dry  eyes,  gazing  at  the  holy  pictures ;  and  swiftly 
crossing  herself,  and  whispering  unintelligible  words.  When 
she  saw  her  mother,  she  jumped  up  and  rushed  to  her. 

''  What  ?    Mamma  ?     What  is  it  ?  " 

"  Go,  go  to  him.  He  has  proposed  for  your  hand,"  said  the 
countess  coldly,  so  it  seemed  to  Natasha.  "  Go !  Go,"  reiter- 
ated the  mother,  drawing  a  long  sigh,  and  looking  with  melan- 
choly, reproachful  eyes  after  her  daughter,  as  she  flew  out 
of  the  room. 

Natasha  could  not  have  told,  for  the  life  of  her,  how  she 
found  herself  in  the  drawing-room.  But  as  she  went  into  the 
room,  and  caught  sight  of  him,  she  stopped  short. 

"  Can  it  be  that  this  stranger  is  now  all  in  all  to  me  ?  "  she 
asked  herself,  and  the  reply  came  like  a  flash,  "  Yes !  he 
alone  is  dearer  to  me  than  all  in  the  world." 

Prince  Andrei  went  to  her  with  downcast  eyes :  — 

"  I  have  loved  you  from  the  first  moment  that  I  saw  you. 
May  I  dare  to  hope  ?  " 

He  looked  at  her,  and  the  grave  passion  expressed  in  his 
face  filled  her  with  wonder.  Her  eyes  replied,  "  Why  should 
you  ask  ?  Why  should  you  doubt  what  you  must  surely  know  ? 
Why  should  you  speak,  when  it  is  impossible,  with  words,  to 
express  what  you  feel  ?  " 


232  WAR  AXD  PEACE 

She  drew  near  to  him,  and  paused.  He  took  her  hand,  and 
kissed  it :  "  Do  jou  love  me  ?  " 

''  Yes,  yes,"  exclaimed  Natasha,  with  something  that  seemed 
almost  like  vexation ;  and,  catchiiig  her  breath  more  and  more 
frequently,  she  began  to  sob. 

«  \Vhat  is  it  ?     What  is  the  matter  ?  -' 

^'Akh!  I  am  so  happy,"  she  replied,  smiling  through  her 
tears,  and  coming  closer  to  him  ;  she  hesitated  for  a  moment, 
as  though  asking  if  it  were  permissible,  and  then  kissed 
him. 

Prince  Andrei  held  her  hand,  and  gazed  into  her  eyes,  and 
failed  to  find  in  his  heart  his  former  love  for  her.  A  sudden 
transformation  seemed  to  have  taken  place  in  his  soul :  there 
was  none  of  that  former  poetical  and  mysterious  charm  of 
longing ;  but  there  was  a  feeling  akin  to  pity  for  her  weak- 
ness, as  a  woman,  as  a  child :  there  was  a  shade  of  fear,  in 
presence  of  her  utter  self-renunciation,  and  her  fearless  hon- 
esty :  a  solemn,  and,  at  the  same  time,  blissful  consciousness 
of  the  obligation  which  forever  bound  him  to  her.  The  present 
feeling,  though  it  was  not  so  bright  and  poetical  as  the  former, 
was  more  deep  and  powerful. 

"  Has  your  manuin  told  you  that  our  marriage  cannot  be  till 
a  year  has  passed  ?  "  asked  Prince  Andrei,  continuing  to  gaze 
into  her  eyes. 

'^  Can  it  be  that  this  is  the  little  silly  chit  of  a  girl,  as  they 
all  say  of  me  ?  "  mused  Natasha.  ^^  Can  it  be  that  from  this 
time  forth,  I  am  the  wife,  the  equal,  of  this  stranger,  this 
gentle,  learned  man,  whom  even  my  father  regards  with  admi- 
ration ?  Can  it  be  true  that  now,  henceforth,  life  has  become 
serious  ?  that  now  I  am  grown  up  ?  that  now  I  shall  be 
responsible  for  every  word  and  deed  ?  —  Yes,  but  what  was 
that  he  asked  me  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  she,  aloud,  but  she  did  not  know  what  he  had 
asked  her. 

"  Forgive  me,"  said  Prince  Andrei.  "  But  you  are  so  young, 
and  I  have  already  had  such  long  experience  of  life.  I  tremble 
for  you.     You  do  not  know  yourself ! " 

Natasha,  with  concentrated  attention,  listened  to  what  he 
said,  and  did  her  best  to  take  in  the  full  meaning  of  his  words ; 
but  it  was  impossible. 

"How  hard  this  year  will  be  for  me  —  deferring  my  happi- 
ness ! "  pursued  Prince  Andrei.  "  But  during  the  time,  you 
will  have  made  sure  of  your  own  heart.  At  the  end  of  the 
'"»«-  T  sliall  ask  you  to  make  me  happy ;  but  you  are  free. 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  233 

Oar  betTothal  shall  remain  a  secret,  and  if  you  should  discover 
that  you  do  not  love  me,  if  you  should  love  "  —  said  Prince 
Andrei,  with  a  forced  and  unnatural  smile. 

"Why  do  you  say  that  ?  "  asked  Natasha,  interrupting  him. 
"  You  know  that  from  that  very  first  day  that  you  came  to 
Otradnoye,  I  loved  you/'  said  she,  firmly  convinced  that  she 
was  telling  the  truth. 

"  In  a  year,  you  will  have  learned  to  know  yourself." 

"  A  who — ole  year ! "  suddenly  exclaimed  Natasha ;  it  now 
suddenly,  for  the  first  time,  dawning  upon  her  that  the  wed- 
ding was  to  be  postponed.   "  And  why  a  year  ?  —  why  a  year  ?  " 

Prince  Andrei  began  to  explain  the  reasons  for  this  post- 
ponement.   Natasha  refused  to  listen  to  him. 

"  And  is  there  no  other  way  of  doing  ?  "  she  asked.  Prince 
Andrei  made  no  answer,  but  the  expression  of  his  face  told 
her  how  unalterable  his  decision  was. 

"  This  is  terrible  !  No :  this  is  terrible,  terrible  ! "  suddenly 
exclaimed  Natasha,  and  again  she  began  to  sob.  "  I  shall  die, 
if  I  have  to  wait  a  year  :  it  cannot  be,  it  is  dreadful."  She 
looked  into  her  lover's  face,  and  saw  that  it  was  full  of  sym- 
pathy and  perplexity. 

"No,  no,  I  will  do  everything  you  wish,"  she  said,  suddenly 
ceasing  to  sob.    "  I  am  so  happy." 

Her  father  and  mother  came  into  the  room,  and  congrat- 
ulated the  affianced  pair. 

From  that  day  forth.  Prince  Andrei  began  to  visit  the  Bos- 
tofs  as  Natasha's  accepted  husband. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

There  was  no  formal  betrothal,  and  Bolkonsky's  engage- 
ment to  Natasha  was  not  made  public.  Prince  Andrei  insisted 
on  this  point.  He  said  that  as  he  was  the  cause  of  the  post- 
ponement, he  ought  to  bear  the  whole  burden  of  it.  He  de- 
clared that  he  considered  himself  forever  bound  by  his  word  ; 
but  he  felt  that  he  ought  not  to  hold  Natasha,  and  he  granted 
her  perfect  freedom.  If,  within  a  half-year,  she  should  dis- 
cover that  she  did  not  love  him,  she  should  have  perfect  right 
to  break  the  engagement. 

Of  course,  neither  the  parents  nor  Natasha  would  hear  to 
this,  but  Prince  Andrei  pressed  the  matter.  Prince  Andrei 
was  at  the  Rostofs  every  day,  but  he  did  not  treat  Natasha 
with  the  familiarity  of  the  zhenikh,  or  bridegroom  :  he  always 


2S4  ^VAR  AND  PEACE, 

addressed  her  by  the  formal  vui,  "  you,"  and  only  kissed  her 
hand. 

Between  Prince  Andrei  and  Natasha,  after  the  day  of  their 
engagement,  there  seemed  to  be  an  entirely  different  relation- 
ship from  before :  one  closer,  and  more  simple.  It  seemed 
as  though  they  hitherto  had  never  known  each  other :  both 
of  them  liked  to  recall  how  they  had  seemed  at  the  time  when 
they  were  nothing  to  each  other :  now  they  felt  that  they  were 
entirely  different  beings ;  then  everything  was  pretence,  now 
it  was  simple  and  true.  At  first  the  family  felt  a  certain 
awkwardness  in  their  relations  toward  Prince  Andrei:  he 
seemed  like  a  man  from  another  world,  and  it  took  Natasha  a 
long  time  to  train  the  others  to  feel  used  to  him  ;  and  she  felt 
a  pride  in  assuring  them  all  that  it  was  only  in  appearance 
that  Prince  Andrei  was  so  diffei-ent,  and  that  he  was  really 
like  every  one  else,  and  that  she  was  not  afraid  of  him,  and 
that  no  one  had  any  reason  to  fear  him. 

After  some  days  the  family  got  wonted  to  him,  and  felt  no 
awkwardness  in  going  on  with  the  ordinary  routine  of  life  in 
his  presence,  and  he  also  had  a  share  in  it.  He  could  talk 
with  the  count  about  farming,  about  wearing-apparel  with 
the  countess  and  Natasha,  and  about  albums  and  embroidery 
with  Sonya.  Sometimes  the  family,  when  by  themselves,  and 
even  in  Prince  Andrei's  presence,  marvelled  that  such  an 
event  had  taken  place,  —that  the  prognostics  of  it  had  been  so 
apparent :  thus,  Prince  Andrei's  visit  to  Otradnoye,  and  their 
coming  to  Petersburg,  and  the  resemblance  between  Natasha 
and  Prince  Andrei,  which  an  old  nurse  had  remarked,  when 
he  first  came  to  Otradnoye,  and  many  other  portents  of  what 
had  happened  were  recalled  by  the  family. 

That  poetical  infestivity  and  silence,  which  always  mark 
the  presence  of  an  engaged  couple,  reigned  in  the  house.  Often- 
times, when  all  were  together,  not  a  soul  would  say  a  word. 
Sometimes  the  rest  would  get  up  and  leave  the  room,  and  even 
then  the  two  young  people,  though  by  themselves,  would  sit  in 
perfect  silence,  as  before.  They  rarely  spoke  about  their 
future  :  Prince  Andrei  avoided  it,  from  dread,  as  well  as  from 
conscientious  motives.  Natasha  shared  his  feelings,  as,  in- 
deed, she  shared  all  his  feelings,  which  she  was  always  quick 
to  read. 

Once,  Natasha  began  to  ask  him  about  his  little  boy :  Prince 
Andrei  flushed,  as  he  was  apt  to  do  at  that  time,  —  and  Natasha 
particularly  liked  it  in  him,  —  and  replied  that  his  son  would 
not  live  with  them. 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  235 

"  Why  not  ?  "  asked  Natasha. 

'*!  could  not  take  him  away  from  his  grandfather;  and, 
besides  "  — 

"  How  I  should  love  him !  '^  exclaimed  Natasha,  instantly 
divining  his  thought.  '^  But  I  understand :  you  are  anxious 
to  avoid  any  excuse  for  misiuiderstandings  between  us." 

The  old  count  sometimes  came  to  Prince  Andrei,  kissed 
him,  and  asked  him  his  advice  in  regard  to  Petya's  education, 
or  Nikolai's  advancement  in  the  army.  The  old  countess 
would  sigh,  as  she  looked  at  them.  Sonya  was  always  afraid 
that  she  was  in  the  way,  and  tried  to  invent  excuses  for  leav- 
ing them  alone,  even  when  they  did  not  care  to  be.  When 
Prince  Andrei  talked  —  and  he  was  very  admirable  in  conver- 
sation —  Natasha  would  listen  to  him  with  pride ;  when  she 
herself  spoke,  she  noticed,  with  fear  and  joy,  that  he  listened 
to  her  with  attention,  and  scrutinized  her  keenly.  She  would 
ask  herself  in  perplexity,  "  What  is  he  searching  for  in  me  ? 
What  are  his  eyes  trying  to  discover  ?  Supposing  he  were  not 
to  find  in  me  what  he  seeks  to  find  ?  " 

Occasionally,  she  was  attacked  by  one  of  those  absurd  fits  of 
mirth,  peculiar  to  her,  and  then  it  was  a  delight  for  her  to  see 
and  hear  him  laugh.  He  rarely  laughed  aloud,  but  when  he  did 
indulge  in  merriment,  he  gave  himself  up  entirely  to  it ;  and 
always,  after  such  an  experience,  she  felt  that  she  had  grown 
nearer  to  him.  Natasha  would  have  been  perfectly  happy,  if 
the  thought  of  their  parting,  which  was  now  near  at  hand,  had 
not  filled  her  with  vague  sdarm  t  so  vmch  so  that  she  grew 
pale  and  chill  at  the  mere  thought  of  it. 

On  the  evening  before  his  departure  from  Petersburg,  Prince 
Andrei  brought  Pierre,  who  had  not  once  called  at  the  Rostofs 
since  the  evening  of  the  ball.  Pierre  seemed  confused,  and 
out  of  spirits.  He  devoted  all  his  attention  to  the  countess. 
Natasha  was  sitting  with  Sonya,  playing  checkers ;  and  this 
was  in  itself  an  invitation  for  Prince  Andrei  to  join  them.  He 
did  so. 

"You  have  known  Bezukhoi  for  a  long  time,  have  you 
not  ?  "  he  asked.     "  Do  you  like  him  ?  " 

"Yes,  he  is  a  splendid  man;  but  very  absurd."  And,  as 
was  usually  the  case,  when  speaking  of  Pierre,  she  began  to 
relate  anecdotes  of  his  heedlessness :  anecdotes,  many  of  which 
were  wholly  imaginary,  as  far  as  he  was  concerned. 

"  You  know,  I  have  told  him  our  secret,"  said  Prince  Andrei. 
"  I  have  known  him  since  we  were  boys.  His  heart  is  true 
gold,    I  beg  of  you,  Nathalie,"  said  he,  growing  suddenly 


236  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

grave.  "I  am  going  away.  God  knows  what  may  happen  : 
you  may  cease  to  lo —  well,  I  know  that  I  ought  not  to  speak 
of  this.  One  thing,  though  :  in  case  anything  should  happen^ 
after  I  am  gone  "  — 

"  What  could  happen  ?  " 

"  If  there  should  be  any  misfortune,"  pursued  Prince  Andrei, 
"  I  beg  you,  Mademoiselle  Sophie,  if  anything  should  happen, 
go  to  him  for  help  and  counsel.  He  may  be  a  most  heedless 
and  absurd  man,  but  his  heart  is  the  truest  gold." 

Not  Natasha's  father,  or  mother,  or  Sonya,  or  Prince  Andrei 
himself,  could  have  foreseen  what  an  effect  parting  from  her 
lover  would  have  had  upon  Natasha.  Flushed  and  excitcnl, 
with  burning  eyes,  she  wandered  "all  day  long  up  and  down 
the  house,  busying  herself  with  the  most  insignificant  things, 
as  though  she  had  no  idea  of  what  was  going  to  happen.  She 
did  not  shed  a  tear :  even  at  the  moment  when  he  kissed  her 
hand  for  the  last  time,  and  bade  her  farewell. 

<^  Don't  leave  me,"  was  all  that  she  said ;  but  these  words 
were  spoken  in  a  voice  that  caused  him  to  pause  and  consider 
whether  it  were  really  necessary  for  him  to  go  away,  and 
which  he  remembered  long  afterward. 

Even  after  he  had  gone,  she  did  not  weep ;  but  she  staid 
in  her  room  for  many  days,  not  shedding  a  tear ;  and  she  took 
no  interest  in  anything,  and  only  said  from  time  to  time,  — 

"  Akh  I     Why  did  he  go  ?  " 

But  a  fortnight  after  his  departure,  most  unexpectedly  to  the 
household,  she  woke  Uip  out  of  this  moral  illness,  and  began  to 
seem  the  same  as  formerly ;  except  that  her  whole  moral 
nature  was  changed,  just  as  the  faces  of  children  change  dur- 
ing protracted  illness. 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

Prince  Nikolai  Andreyitch  Bolkonsky's  health  and  dis- 
position grew  much  worse  during  the  year  that  followed  his 
son's  absence.  He  became  still  more  irritable  than  formerly ; 
and  all  the  explosions  of  his  unreasonable  anger  were  launched 
upon  the  Princess  Mariya.  It  seemed  as  though  he  tried  to 
search  out  all  the  tender  spots  of  her  nature,  so  as  to  torture 
her  as  atrociously  as  possible. 

The  Princess  Mariya  had  two  passions,  and,  therefore,  two 
joys :  her  little  nephew,  Nikolushka,  and  religion ;  and  both 
were  favorite  themes  for  the  old  prince's  slurs  and  ridicule. 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  237 

Whatever  subject  of  conversation  arose,  he  managed  to  bring 
in  some  reference  to  old  maids'  superstitions,  or  to  the  spoil- 
ing and  over-indulging  of  children. 

"  Do  you  wish  to  make  him  "  —  he  referred  to  Nikolushka  — 
"an  old  maid,  like  yourself?  It's  all  nonsense  :  Prince  Andrei 
wants  a  son  —  not  a  girl,"  said  he. 

Or,  turning  to  Mademoiselle  Bourienne,  he  would  ask  her,  in 
the  princess's  presence,  how  she  liked  our  Russian  popes  and 
images ;  and  again  indulge  in  his  bitter  jests. 

He  seized  every  opportunity  of  wounding  the  Princess 
Mariya,  in  the  most  cruel  way ;  but  the  poor  girl  found  no 
trouble  in  forgiving  him.  He  was  her  father ;  and  she  knew 
that  he  loved  her,  in  spite  of  everything :  how,  then,  could  he 
be  to  blame  toward  her  ?  how  could  he  be  unjust  to  her  ? 
Yes,  and  what  was  justice  ?  That  word  "  justice  "  —  a  con- 
cept^ bom  of  nothing  but  pride  —  had  never  occurred  to  her 
thoughts.  All  the  complicated  laws  of  men,  for  her,  were 
summed  up  in  the  one  clear  and  simple  rule  of  love  and  self- 
denial,  imposed  upon  us  by  Him,  who,  though  he  was  God,  so 
loved  the  world  as  to  suffer  for  it.  What  mattered  to  her, 
then,  the  Justice  or  injustice  of  men  ?  It  was  necessary  for 
her  to  suser  and  to  love,  and  this  she  did. 

During  the  winter.  Prince  Andrei  had  come  to  Luisiya  (Jorui, 
and  was  more  cheerful,  gentle,  and  affectionate,  than  the  Prin- 
cess Mariya  had  seen  him  for  a  long  time.  She  had  a  presenti- 
ment that  something  unusual  had  happened  to  him ;  but  he 
said  nothing  to  her  about  his  love.  Before  he  went  away,  he 
was  closeted  for  a  long  time  with  his  father,  and  the  Princess 
Mariya  noticed  that  each  was  displeased  with  the  other. 

Shortly  after  Prince  Andrei's  departure,  the  Princess  Mariya 
wrote  to  her  friend,  Julie  Karagina,  who  was  at  that  time  in 
Petersburg,  and  in  mourning  for  her  brother,  who  had  been 
killed  in  Turkey.  Like  all  young  girls,  the  Princess  Mariya 
had  her  dreams ;  and  one  of  hers  was,  that  Julie  would  yet 
become  her  brother's  wife. 

AfflictioD,  my  dear  and  affectionate  friend  Julie,  is  evidently  the  com- 
mon lot  of  us  all. 

Tour  loss  is  so  awful  that  I  can  only  explain  it  as  being  a  special  prov- 
idence of  God;  who,  in  his  love  for  you,  has  seen  fit  to  try  you  and  your 
excellent  mother.  Ah!  my  dear  friend,  religion  and  religion  alone,  can 
—  I  will  not  say  console  us — but  save  us  from  despair;  religion  alone 
can  make  plain  to  us  what,  without  her  aid,  it  is  impossible  for  man  to 
comprehend :  why,  for  what  purpose,  should  beings  who  are  good  and 
noble,  and  best  made  to  find  happiness  in  life,  who  have  not  only  never 
Injm-ed  a  living  thing,  but  rather  have  sought  only  the  happiness  of  others. 


238  WAR  AND  PEACE, 

-—why  should  they  be  recalled  U>  God;  while  the  base  and  the  ▼idous, 
or  those  who  are  only  a  burden  to  themselves  and  others,  are  left  to  live  ? 

The  first  death  which  I  ever  witnessed  —  and  1  shall  never  foi^t  it  — 
was  that  of  my  dear  sister-in-law,  and  it  produced  upon  me  a  wonderful 
impression.  Just  as  you  are  now  asking  Fate  why  your  charming  brother 
had  to  die,  so  did  I  ask  why  this  angelic  Liza  should  betaken  away,  when 
she  had  never  done  the  slishtest  wrong  to  any  one,  and  never  had  any- 
thing but  the  purest  thoughts  in  her  soul.  And  since  tlien,  my  dear  friend, 
five  years  have  passed  away,  and,  even  with  my  humble  intelligence,  I 
begin  to  clearly  see  why  she  had  to  die,  and  how  her  death  may  be  rmrded 
as  merely  the  expression  of  the  Creator's  infinite  goodness:  all  of  Whose 
works,  though  for  the  most  part  beyond  our  comprehension,  are  but  the 
manifestation  of  His  boundless  love  to  His  creatures. 

I  often  think  that  perhaps  her  purity  was  too  angelic  to  be  compatible 
with  the  force  necessary  to  carry  all  the  obligations  of  motherhood.  As 
a  young  wife,  she  was  beyond  reproach;  possibly,  she  mishthave  failed  as 
a  mother.  Now,  although  she  has  left  us,  and  I'rince  Andrei  in  particular, 
the  purest  regret  and  sweetest  memories,  I  am  sure  tliat  she  herself  is  in 
the  enjoyment  of  that  place  which  I  dare  not  hope  for  myself  to  attain. 

But,  not  to  speak  of  her  exclusively,  this  premature  and  terrible  death 
has  had  a  most  salutary  effect,  notwithstanding  all  the  sorrowfulness  of 
it,  upon  my  brother  and  myself. 

These  thoughts  at  that  time  would  have  been  impossible,— at  that  time 
X  should  have  repelled  them  with  horror;  but  now  this  is  plain,  and 
beyond  a  perad venture.  I  write  this  to  you,  my  friend,  simply  hoping 
that  it  may  persuade  you  of  the  Gospel  truth,  which  I  have  taken  as  the 
rule  of  my  whole  life:  that  not  one  hair  from  our  head  shall  fall  without 
His  will.  And  His  will  is  conditioned  only  by  infinite  love  toward  us  ; 
and,  therefore,  all  that  happens  to  us  is  for  our  ^ood. 

Tou  ask  if  we  are  going  to  spend  next  winter  in  Moscow  ?  In  spite  of 
all  my  desire  to  see  you,  I  think  it  most  improbable;  and,  inde^i,  I  can- 
not think  tliat  it  is  for  the  best.  And  you  will  be  amazed  when  I  tell  you 
that  the  reason  of  that  is  —  Buonaparte!  And  this  is  why:  my  father's 
health  has  been  failing  of  late;  he  cannot  endure  any  contradiction,  and 
has  grown  irritable.  This  irritability,  as  you  may  know,  is  especially 
excited  by  political  affairs.  He  cannot  endure  the  thought  that  Buonaparte 
has  so  managed  as  to  put  himself  on  an  equality  with  all  the  sovereigns 
of  £urope,  and  especially  with  ours  —  the  grandson  of  the  great  Catherine! 
As  you  know,  I  am  perfectly  indifferent  to  politics ;  but  from  words  spoken 
by  my  father,  and  from  his  discussions  with  Mikhail  Ivanovitch,  I  know 
all  that  is  going  on  in  the  world;  and  particularly  about  all  the  honors 
attained  by  Buonaparte,  who,  I  should  think  is  considered  a  great  man, 
and  not  the  least  of  the  French  emperors,  all  over  the  world,  except  at 
Luisiya  Gorui ! 

And  this  is  what  my  father  will  not  adroit!  It  seems  to  me  that  my 
father,  precisely  on  account  of  his  views  of  political  affairs,  and  foresee- 
ing  the  collisions  which  would  infallibly  take  place,  in  consequence  of 
his  character  —  taking  no  account  of  any  one  when  he  expresses  his 
opinions  —  feels  unwilling  to  go  to  Moscow.  All  the  gain  that  he  would 
set,  he  would  more  than  undo  by  the  quarrels  which  would  be  sure  to 
follow  in  regard  to  Buonaparte.  At  all  events,  the  question  is  soon  to  be 
decided. 

Our  home  life  goes  on  in  the  old  routine;  except  that  my  brother 
Andrei  is  away.  As  I  have  already  written  you,  he  has  been  very  much 
changed  of  Uter    Tbis  year,  for  th«  first  time  since  his  affiiction,  he  has 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  239 

begun  to  lead  a  perfectly  normal  life :  he  has  become  what  he  was  when 
be  was  a  child,  as  I  remember  him:  kind,  affectionate,  and  with  a  truly 
golden  heart,  the  lilce  of  which  1  never  knew.  Ue  has  learned,  so  it  seems, 
to  me,  that  his  life,  after  all,  is  not  yet  ended.  But  together  with  this 
moral  change,  his  physical  health  has  deteriorated.  He  is  far  worse  than 
before,  more  nerroan.  I  am  troubled  about  him,  and  I  am  glad  that  he 
has  decided  to  take  the  trip  abroad  which  the  doctor  long  ago  prescribed 
for  him.    I  hope  that  it  will  effect  a  complete  cure. 

You  write  me  that  he  is  spoken  of  in  Petersburg  as  one  of  the  most 
industrious,  cultivated,  and  intelligent  young  men  of  the  day.  Forgive  a 
sitter's  pride,  but  I  have  never  doubted  it.  It  is  impossible  to  estimate 
the  good  which  he  has  accomplished  here:  beginning  with  his  own  peas- 
antry, and  including  the  nobility  of  the  district.  In  going  to  Peters* 
bui^,  he  has  received  only  what  was  due  him. 

I  am  amazed  that  rumors  should  have  come  from  Petersburg  to  Moscow, 
and  especially  such  false  rumors  as  what  you  wrote  me  in  regard  to  the  sup- 
posed marriage  of  my  brother  to  the  little  Hostova.  I  do  not  believe  that 
my  brother  will  ever  marry  again;  and  certainly  he  will  not  marry  her. 
And  this  is  my  reason  for  thinking  so:  in  the  first  place,  I  know  tliat 
though  he  rarely  mentions  his  late  wife,  yet  he  was  too  deeply  afflicted  by 
her  loss  ever  to  think  of  letting  another  fill  her  place  in  his  heart,  or  of  gtv* 
ing  a  stepmother  to  our  little  angel.  In  the  second  place,  to  the  best  of  my 
knowledge,  this  youug  girl  is  not  the  sort  of  woman  who  would  be  likely 
to  please  Prince  Andrei.  1  feel  certain  that  he  would  not  choose  her  for  his 
wife;  and  I  will  frankly  confess  that  I  do  not  desire  it. 

But  I  have  prattled  too  long,  already:  here  I  am,  finishing  my  second 
sheet !  Grood-by,  my  dear  friend.  May  God  shield  you  under  His  Holy  and 
Almighty  wing.  My  dear  companion,  Mademoiselle  Bourienne,  sends  her 
love. 

Mabib. 

CHAPTER  XXVI. 

In  the  middle  of  the  summer,  the  Princess  Mariya  received 
a  letter  from  her  brother,  from  Switzerland,  in  which  he  con- 
fided the  strange  and  surprising  news  of  his  engagement  to 
Natasha.  His  whole  letter  breathed  enthusiastic  devotion  for 
his  "  bride,"  and  affectionate  and  trusting  love  for  his  sister. 
He  wrote  that  he  had  never  before  loved  as  he  loved  now ; 
and  that  now  only  did  he  realize  and  understand  the 
meaning  of  life ;  he  besought  his  sister  to  pardon  him  for 
not  having  said  anything  to  her  about  this  at  his  visit  at 
Luisiya  Gorui,  although  he  had  confided  his  intention  to  his 
father. 

He  had  not  told  her  because  the  Princess  Mariya  would 
have  endeavored  to  persuade  their  father  to  grant  his  request  j 
and  if  she  had  failed,  it  would  have  irritated  him,  and  the 
whole  weight  of  his  displeasure  would  have  come  upon  her. 

"  Moreover,"  he  wrote,  "  the  matter  was  not  so  definitely 
settled  as  it  is  now.     Then,  my  father  had  set  a  term  of  proba- 


240  WAR  ASD  PEACE, 

tion  —  a  year ;  and  now,  already,  six  months  have  slipped  away, 
half  of  the  designated  term,  and  I  remain  firmer  than  ever  fixed 
in  my  determination.  If  the  doctors  had  not  detained  me  here 
at  the  springs,  I  should  have  been  back  in  Russia  ere  this ; 
but  now  I  must  postpone  my  return  for  three  months  longer. 
You  know  me,  and  how  I  am  situated  in  regard  to  my  father : 
I  really  need  nothing  from  him ;  I  have  been,  and  shall  he 
always,  independent  of  him  ;  but  to  act  contrary  to  his  wishes, 
to  incur  his  anger,  when,  perhaps,  he  has  so  snort  a  time  to 
remain  among  us,  would  destroy  half  of  my  happiness.  I 
have  just  been  writing  him  a  letter  in  regard  to  this,  and  I 
beg  of  you,  if  you  can  find  a  favorable  moment,  give  him  this 
letter,  and  inform  me  how  he  receives  it,  and  whether  there  is 
any  hope  that  he  will  consent  to  shorten  the  term  by  three 
months." 

After  a  long  period  of  indecision,  doubting,  and  prayer,  the 
princess  handed  the  letter  to  her  father.  The  day  following, 
the  old  prince  said  to  her,  without  any  show  of  excitement,  — 

"  Write  to  your  brother  to  wait  till  I'm  dead —  it  won't  be 
long  —  he'll  soon  be  free." 

The  princess  tried  to  make  some  reply  ;  but  her  father  would 
not  hear  to  it,  and  his  voice  began  to  rise  higher  and  higher,  — 

"Marry,  marry,  my  little  dove!  Fine  family!  Clever 
people,  ha  ?  Rich  ?  ha !  Yes,  a  fine  stepmother  for  the  little 
Mkolushka  she'll  make.  Write  him  that  he  may  marry  her 
to-morrow,  if  he  wishes.  She'll  make  a  fine  stepmother  for 
Nikolushka,  and  I'll  marry  Bouriennka  !  Ha !  ha !  ha !  so  that 
he  may  have  a  stepmother  as  well !  There's  one  thing,  though, 
there's  no  room  for  any  moi-e  women  here :  let  him  marry,  and 
go  and  live  by  himself.  Perhaps  you'd  like  to  go  and  live 
with  him  ?  "  said  he,  turning  to  the  Princess  Mariya :  "  Go, 
then,  in  God's  name  ;  througn  ice  and  snow  — ice  and  snow — 
ice  and  snow !  " 

After  this  explosion,  the  old  prince  said  nothing  more  on  that 
score,  but  his  restrained  vexation  at  his  son's  weakness  was 
expressed  in  his  treatment  of  liis  daughter.  And  he  now  had 
new  themes  for  his  sarcasm,  in  addition  to  his  old  ones: 
namely,  stepmothers,  and  liis  admiration  for  Mademoiselle 
Bourienne. 

"  Why  should  I  not  marry  her  ?  "  he  asked  his  daughter. 
"  She  would  make  a  splendid  princess  ! " 

And  the  Princess  Mariya  began  to  notice,  with  perplexity  and 
amazement,  that  her  father  more  and  more  tried  to  have  the 
Frenchwoman  about  him  as  much  as  possible.    The  Princess 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  241 

Mariya  wrote  Prince  Andrei  how  their  father  had  received  his 
letter ;  but  she  tried  to  comfort  her  brother,  giving  him  to  hope 
that  her  father  might  be  dissuaded  from  this  notion. 

Nikolushka  and  his  education,  Andrei,  and  religion,  were  the 
Princess  Mariya's  consolation  and  delight ;  but,  as  every  human 
being  must  cherish  some  individual  aspiration,  so  also  the 
Princess  Mariya  had,  in  the  deepest  depths  of  her  soul,  secret 
dreams  and  hopes,  which  constituted  a  higher  consolation  even 
than  the  others.  This  consoling  dream  and  hope  was  repre- 
sented to  her  mind  by  the  "  Men  of  God,"  the  pilgrims  and 
fanatics,  who  came  to  see  her  without  the  old  prince's  knowl- 
edge. 

The  longer  the  princess  Mariya  lived,  and  the  more  experi- 
ence she  got  out  of  life,  by  carefully  observing  it,  the 
more  she  marvelled  at  the  short-sightedness  of  men  who  seek 
here  on  earth  all  their  enjoyment  and  delight :  who  toil  and 
moil,  and  battle  and  struggle,  and  do  evil  to  one  another,  in 
order  to  follow  these  impossible,  shameful  phantoms  of  happi- 
ness. Prince  Andrei  loved  his  wife ;  she  died :  he  was  all 
ready  to  find  his  happiness  in  another  woman.  His  father 
objected  to  this,  because  he  desired  for  his  son  a  more  dis- 
tinguished and  wealthy  alliance.  And  thus  all  men  struggled, 
and  suffered,  and  tortured  themselves,  and  risked  the  loss  of 
their  souls,  their  immortal  souls,  for  the  sake  of  attaining  joys 
which  were  merely  transitory. 

"  Not  only  do  we  know  this  ourselves,  but  Christ,  the  son 
of  God,  came  down  to  earth  and  taught  us  that  this  life  is 
fleeting,  a  short  probation ;  and  yet  we  cling  to  it  always,  and 
expect  to  find  happiness  in  it.  How  is  it  that  no  one  compre- 
hends this  ? "  asked  the  Princess  Mariya.  "  None  except 
these  despised  Men  of  God,  who  come  to  me  with  wallets  on 
their  shoulders,  climbing  the  back  stairs,  for  fear  lest  they 
should  meet  the  prince:  not  to  avoid  suffering,  but  for  the 
sake  of  preventing  him  from  committing  a  sin.  To  forsake 
family  and  fatherland,  and  forswear  all  endeavor  to  get  earthly 
good ;  to  form  no  ties,  and  to  wander  under  an  assumed  name, 
in  hempen  rags,  from  place  to  place,  doing  no  harm  to  any  one, 
and  praying  for  people,  praying  for  those  who  persecute  you, 
as  well  as  for  those  who  give  you  protection ;  —  there  is  no 
truth,  and  no  life,  higher  than  that ! " 

There  was  one  pilgrim  woman,  Fedosyushka, —  a  little,  gentle, 
pock-marked  woman,  fifty  years  old, —  who  had  been  for  thirty 
years  wandering  about  the  world  barefooted,  and  wearing  pen- 
itential chains.  The  Princess  Mariya  was  especially  fond  of 
YOU  2.  — 16. 


242  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

her.  Once,  in  the  solitude  of  her  chamber,  feebly  illumined  only 
by  the  lampadka  or  shrine  lamp,  when  Fedosyushka  had  been 
telling  about  her  experiences,  the  thought  that  the  pilgrim 
woman  had  found  the  only  true  path  of  life  suddenly  came 
over  her  trith  such  appealing  force  that  she  herself  resolved 
to  go  on  a  pilgrimage.  After  Fedosyushka  had  retired  to 
rest,  the  Princess  Mariya  long  pondered  the  matter  ia  her 
own  mind,  and  at  last  resolved,  no  matter  how  unusual  it  was, 
that  it  was  her  duty  to  make  this  pilgrimage.  She  confided 
her  resolve  only  to  the  monk,  who  was  her  confessor,  and  the 
confessor  gave  the  plan  his  approval.  Under  the  pretext  that 
she  was  going  to  help  some  pilgrim,  the  Princess  Mariya  sent 
and  purchased  a  pilgrim's  complete  outfit :  shirt,  lapti,  or  bast 
shoes,  a  kaftan,  and  a  black  kerchief.  Frequently  she  would 
go  to  the  curtained  commode,  where  she  kept  them,  and  stand 
irresolute,  wondering  whether  the  time  had  not  yet  come  for 
her  to  carry  out  her  vow. 

Oftentimes,  when  she  heard  the  stories  told  by  the  pilgrims, 
she  would  be  stirred  by  their  simple  narratives,  which  to  her 
were  full  of  profound  meaning,  though  so  mechanically  re- 
peated by  them ;  till,  oftentimes,  she  was  ready  to  renounce 
everything  and  flee  from  her  home.  In  her  imagination  she 
already  saw  herself  and  Fedosyushka,  in  filthy  rags,  tramping 
along  with  staff  and  birch-bark  wallet,  over  the  dusty  highway, 
rambling  about  from  one  saint's  shrine  to  another :  without 
envy,  without  the  love  of  her  fellows,  without  desires ;  and,  at 
the  end  of  all,  journeying  thither  where  there  is  no  regret  and 
no  tears,  but  eternal  joy  and  felicity. 

'^  I  shall  go  to  a  place  where  there  is  a  saint :  I  shall  pray 
there ;  but  before  I  get  attached  to  the  place,  or  love  an jr  one, 
I  shall  pass  on.  And  I  shall  keep  wandering  on  until  my 
limbs  fail  under  me,  and  then  I  shall  lie  down  and  die  any- 
where ;  and  then,  at  last,  I  shall  reach  that  eternal  haven  of 
peace  where  there  is  no  regret  and  no  sorrow!"  said  the 
Princess  Mariya  to  herself. 

But  later,  when  she  saw  her  father,  and  especially  the  little 
Koko,  her  resolve  lost  its  force ;  she  shed  a  few  quiet  tears, 
and  had  the  consciousness  that  she  was  a  sinner :  she  loved  her 
father  and  her  nephew  more  than  Grod. 


PART  FOURTH. 
CHAPTER  I. 

Thb  biblical  tradition  tells  us  that  absence  of  work,  idle- 
ness, constituted  the  first  man's  happiness  before  the  fall.  A 
love  for  idleness  remains  just  the  same,  even  in  fallen  man ; 
but  the  curse  still  hangs  over  mankind,  and  it  is  impossible 
for  us  to  be  slothful  and  easy-going :  not  alone  because  we  are 
required  to  earn  our  bread  in  the  sweat  of  our  brow,  but  by 
the  very  conditions  of  our  moral  nature.  A  secret  voice 
warns  us  that  to  be  idle  is  for  us  a  sin.  If  it  were  possible 
for  a  man  to  find  a  situation  where  he  could  feel  that  he  was 
of  use  in  the  world,  and  fulfilling  his  duty  while  still  remain- 
ing idle,  he  would  have  found  one  of  the  conditions  of  primeval 
bliss.  And  such  a  condition  of  obligatory  and  irreproachable 
idleness  is  enjoyed  by  a  whole  class  of  society  —  the  mili- 
tary. And  this  state  of  obligatory  and  irreproachable  idle- 
ness always  has  been  and  will  be  the  chief  attraction  of  mili- 
tary service. 

Nikolai  Rostof  had  been  enjoying  this  felicity  to  the  full, 
having  continued  since  1807  to  serve  in  the  Pavlograd  regi- 
ment :  he  was  now  commander  of  the  squadron  of  which  Den- 
isof  had  been  deprived.  Rostof  had  grown  into  a  rather 
rough  but  kindly  young  fellow,  whom  his  Moscow  acquaint- 
anoes  would  have  found  sufficiently  mauvais  genre  ;  but  who 
was  loved  and  respected  by  his  comrades,  his  subordinates 
as  well  as  his  superiors,  and  he  was  well  satisfied  with  his 
existence.  Latterly,  in  1809,  in  letters  from  home,  he  had 
found  more  and  more  frequent  complaints  from  his  mother 
that  their  pecuniary  affairs  were  going  from  bad  to  worse,  and 
that  it  would  be  seasonable  for  him  to  come  home  and  give  his 
old  parents  some  joy  and  consolation. 

In  reading  over  these  letters,  Nikolai  felt  a  sensation  of 
alarm  at  the  thought  of  being  torn  from  a  condition  of  life 
where  he  found  himself  so  quiet  and  tranquil,  far  removed 
from  the  busy  turmoil  of  society.  He  had  a  presentiment 
that,  sooner  or  later,  he  should  be  dragged  again  into  that 

243 


244  ^AR  AND  PJSAClS. 

whirlpool  of  life :  with  its  wasteful  expenditure,  and  re-arrange- 
ment of  affairs  ;  with  its  accounts  to  verify  ;  with  its  quarrels, 
intrigues,  obligations  ;  with  the  demands  of  society,  and  with 
Sonya's  love,  and  the  necessity  of  an  explanation.  All  this 
was  terribly  difficult  and  confused;  and  he  answered  his 
mother's  letters  with  cold  formality,  beginning,  Ma  eh^re 
maman,  and  concluding  with  Voire  obeissani  fiU,  and  studi- 
ously refrained  from  setting  any  time  for  his  return  home. 

In  1810  he  received  a  letter  from  his  parents,  who  informed 
him  of  the  engagement  between  Natasha  and  Bolkonsky,  and 
that  the  wedding  was  put  off  for  a  year,  on  account  of  the  old 
prince  refusing  his  sanction.  This  news  grieved  and  disgusted 
Nikolai.  In  the  first  place,  he  was  pained  at  the  thought  of 
losing  Natasha  from  the  household,  for  he  was  fonder  of  her 
than  the  other  members  of  the  family :  in  the  second  place,  he 
was  annoyed,  from  his  point  of  view  as  a  hussar,  that  he  had 
not  been  on  hand  to  make  this  Bolkonsky  understand  that 
this  alliance  was  not  a  very  great  honor;  and  that  if  he  loved 
Natasha  he  might  have  married  her,  even  without  his  scatter- 
brained father's  consent. 

For  a  moment  he  almost  made  up  his  mind  to  ask  for  leave 
of  absence,  so  as  to  see  Natasha  before  she  was  married ;  but 
just  then  came  the  army  manoeuvres,  he  remembered  Sony  a 
and  the  various  entanglements,  and  once  more  he  postponed  it. 

But  in  the  spring  of  that  same  year  he  received  a  letter  from 
his  mother,  who  wrote  without  the  count's  knowledge,  and 
this  letter  prompted  him  to  go.  She  wrote  that  if  he  did  not 
cqme,  and  did  not  assume  the  management  of  their  affairs,  their 
whole  property  would  have  to  be  sold  by  auction,  and  they 
would  all  be  thrown  upon  the  world.  The  count  was  so  weak, 
he  had  such  confidence  in  Mitenka,  he  was  so  good-natured 
and  so  easily  cheated  by  every  one,  that  everything  was  going 
from  bad  to  worse.  '^  For  Ood's  sake,  I  beg  of  you,  come  im- 
mediately, unless  you  wish  to  make  me  and  all  the  family 
unhappy,"  wrote  the  countess. 

This  letter  had  its  effect  upon  Nikolai.  He  was  possessed  of 
the  sound  common  sense  of  mediocrity,  and  it  told  him  that 
this  was  his  duty. 

Now,  it  was  requisite  that  he  should  go  on  leave  of  absence 
if  not  upon  the  retired  list.  He  could  not  have  explained  why 
he  had  to  go ;  but,  after  his  siesta,  he  commanded  his  roan  stal- 
lion Mars  to  be  saddled  —  he  had  not  been  out  for  a  long 
time,  and  was  at  any  time  a  terribly  fiery  steed ;  and  when 
he  brought  him  liome  all  in  a  lather,  he  explained  to  Lav- 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  246 

rnshka,  —  Denisors  man  had  staid  on  with  Rostof,  —  and  to 
his  comrades  who  dropped  in  that  afternoon,  that  he  had 
obtained  leave  of  absence,  and  was  going  home. 

How  hard  it  was  for  him  to  realize  that  he  was  going  to 
absent  himself  from  army  life  —  the  only  thing  that  especially 
interested  him  —  and  fail  to  find  whether  he  had  been  pro- 
moted, or  granted  the  <^  Anna,"  for  the  last  manoeuyres !  How 
strange  it  was  to  think  that  he  was  going  away  before  he  had 
sold  that  trojka,  or  three  span,  of  roans  to  the  Polish  Count 
Holuchowsky,  which  they  had  been  negotiating  about,  and 
which  Rostof  had  wagered  would  bring  two  thousand  rubles  ! 
How  impossible  to  realize  that  he  should  miss  the  ball  which 
the  hussars  were  going  to  give  to  the  Pani  Pscazdecska,  in 
order  to  pique  the  Uhlans,  who  had  given  a  ball  to  their  Pani 
Borzjozowska !  He  knew  that  he  must  leave,  go  away  from 
all  this  bright,  pleasant  existence,  and  go  where  everything 
was  trouble  and  turmoil. 

At  the  end  of  a  week  he  was  granted  his  leave  of  absence. 
His  comrades  of  the  hussars,  not  only  those  of  his  regiment, 
but  of  the  whole  brigade,  gave  him  a  dinner  which  cost  them 
fifteen  rubles  a  head :  they  had  two  bands  to  play,  and  two 
choruses  to  sing  for  them.  Rostof  danced  the  trepakd  with 
Major  Basof;  the  tipsy  ofiicers  "tossed"  him,  embraced 
him,  and  deposited  him  on  the  ground  again ;  the  soldiers 
of  the  third  squadron  once  more  "  tossed "  him  and  cried 
hurrah.  Then  they  carried  him  to  his  sledge,  and  escorted 
him  as  far  as  the  first  station. 

As  is  usually  the  case,  Rostof's  thoughts  during  the  first 
half  of  his  journey,  from  Kremenchug  to  Kief,  were  retro- 
spective of  matters  connected  with  his  squadron ;  but  after 
he  had  passed  the  half-way,  he  began  to  forget  aboiit  the 
troika  of  roans,  his  quartermaster  Dozhetveik,  and  anxious 
qujestions  began  to  arise  in  his  mind  as  to  what  he  should  find 
at  Otradnoye.  The  nearer  he  came  to  his  home,  the  more 
powerfully  he  was  affected  by  his  forebodings  :  as  though  this 
mental  state  were  based  upon  the  same  law  as  that  of  the 
swiftness  of  falling  bodies  being  according  to  the  square  of 
the  distance.  At  the  Otradnoye  station  he  gave  the  driver 
three  rubles  for  vodka,  and,  all  out  of  breath,  rushed  up  the 
steps  of  the  old  home  like  a  schoolboy. 

After  the  first  enthusiastic  greetings,  and  after  that  strange 
sense  of  vague  disappointment  at  the  reality  falling  short  of 
expectation,  —  "Everything  is  just  the  same ;  why,  then,  have 
I  hastened  so  ?  " — Nikolai  began  to  become  wonted  to  the  old 


246  Vi^AR  AND  PEACE. 

home  life  again.  His  father  and  mother  were  the  same,  ex- 
cept that  they  had  grown  a  trifle  older.  He  detected  a  pecul- 
iar restlessness  about  them,  and  sometimes  a  slight  coldness 
between  them,  which  was  a  new  thing ;  and  which  Nikolai,  as 
soon  as  he  discovered  it,  attributed  to  the  unfortunate  condi- 
tion of  their  affairs. 

Sonya  was  now  about  twenty  years  old.  She  had  reached 
the  zenith  of  her  beauty,  and  gave  no  promise  that  she  would 
ever  surpass  what  she  already  was  ;  even  thus,  she  was  pretty 
enough.  She  simply  breathed  happiness  and  love  from  the 
moment  that  Nikolai  came  home,  and  this  maiden's  faithful, 
unfaltering  love  for  him  had  a  delightful  effect  upon  him. 

Nikolai  was  more  than  all  surprised  at  Petya  and  Natasha. 
Petya  had  grown  into  a  tall,  handsome,  frolicsome,  but  still 
intelligent,  lad  of  thirteen,  whose  voice  was  already  beginning 
to  break.  It  was  long  before  Nikolai  could  get  over  his 
amazement  at  Natasha,  and  he  said,  laughing,  as  he  gazed  at 
her, — 

''  You're  not  at  all  the  same  person ! " 

"  What !  have  I  changed  for  the  worse  ?  " 

'^  Quite  the  contrary ;  but  what  dignity,  princess ! ''  *  said 
he,  in  a  whisper. 

"  Yes,  yes,  yes,"  exclaimed  Natasha  gleefully. 

Natasha  told  him  her  romance  with  Prince  Andrei,  and 
about  his  visit  to  Oti*adnoye,  and  showed  him  her  last  letter 
from  him. 

'^  Tell  me !  Are  you  not  glad  for  me  ?  "  she  asked.  ^'I  am 
so  calm,  so  happy  now." 

'^  Yes,  very  glad,"  replied  Nikolai.  '^  He  is  a  splendid  man. 
—  And  are  you  very  much  in  love  with  him  ?  " 

"  How  can  I  tell  you  ?  "  replied  Natasha.  "  I  was  in  love 
with  Boris,  and  with  my  teacher,  and  with  Denisof,  and  —  but 
this  is  not  at  all  the  same.  My  mind  is  serene  and  decided. 
I  know  that  there  is  not  a  better  man  to  be  found,  and  so  I 
feel  perfectly  calm  and  happy.  It  is  entirely  different  from 
what  it  used  to  be  —  before  "  — 

Nikolai  expressed  to  Natasha  his  dissatisfaction  that  the 
wedding  was  to  be  postponed  a  year ;  but  Natasha,  with  some 
show  of  exasperation,  contended  that  it  could  not  have  been 
otherwise,  that  it  would  have  been  disgraceful  to  force  her 
way  into  his  family  agcainst  his  father's  will,  and  that  she  her- 
self had  insisted  upon  it. 

*  Tlie  point  of  this  lies  in  his  calling  her  knt/af/inya,  the  title  of  a  married 
princessy  as  knyaxhnd  is  that  of  one  unmarriedi 


WAH  AND  PEACE.  247 

''  Yon  don't  in  the  least,  in  the  least,  understand  the  neces- 
sities of  the  case/'  said  she.  Nikolai  said  no  more,  and  acqui- 
esced. He  often  marvelled  as  he  looked  at  her.  She  was 
absolutely  unlike  a  girl  deeply  in  love  and  separated  from  her 
betrothed.  Her  temper  was  calm  and  even,  and  she  was  as 
merry  as  in  days  gone  by.  This  was  a  surprise  to  Nikolai, 
and  even  made  him  look  with  some  incredulity  at  her  engage- 
ment with  Bolkonsky.  He  could  not  make  up  his  mind  thiat 
her  fate  was  as  yet  fully  decided,  the  more  from  the  fact  that 
he  had  not  seen  Prince  Andrei  with  her.  It  seemed  to  him 
all  the  time  that  there  was  something  that  was  not  as  it  should 
be  in  this  proposed  marriage. 

"Why  this  postponement?  Why  are  they  not  formally 
betrothed  ?  "  he  asked  himself.  Once,  when  speaking  with  his 
mother  about  his  sister,  he  found  to  his  surprise,  and  to  a  cer- 
tain degree  his  satisfaction,  that  his  mother  also  did  not  in  the 
depths  of  her  heart  feel  any  great  confidence  in  the  engage- 
ment. 

"  This  is  what  he  writes,'^  said  she,  showing  her  son  a  letter 
which  she  had  received  from  Prince  Andrei,  with  that  secret 
feeling  of  discontent  which  a  mother  always  has  toward  her 
daughter's  future  married  happiness.  "He  writes  that  he 
will  not  be  back  before  December.  What  do  you  suppose  can 
detain  him  so  ?  It  must  be  he  is  ill.  His  health  is  very  deli- 
cate. Do  not  say  anything  to  Natasha.  Don't  be  surprised 
that  she  is  happy :  these  are  the  last  days  of  her  girlhood ; 
and  I  know  how  it  affects  her  whenever  we  get  a  letter  from 
him.  However,  it  is  all  in  God's  hands,  and  all  will  be  well," 
she  concluded ;  adding  as  usual,  "  He  is  a  splendid  man." 


CHAPTER  IX. 

Thb  first  days  after  Nikolai's  return,  he  was  grave,  and  even 
depressed.  He  was  tormented  by  the  present  necessity  of  mak- 
ing an  investigation  into  the  stupid  details  of  the  household 
economy,  for  which  his  mother  had  begged  him  to  come  home. 
On  the  third  day  after  his  return,  in  order  to  get  this  burden 
from  his  shoulders  as  soon  as  possible,  he  went,  with  contracted 
brows,  sternly,  and  not  giving  himself  time  to  decide  what  he 
was  going  to  do,  to  the  wing  where  Mitenka  lived,  and  de- 
manded of  him  the  "  accounts  of  eveiy  thing."  What  he  meant 
by  the  "accounts  of  everything,"  he  had  even  less  of  an  idea 


248  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

than  Mitenka ;  who,  nevertheless,  was  thrown  into  alarm  and 
perplexity. 

Mitenka's  explanations  about  his  accounts  were  soon  fin- 
ished. The  st&rosta  of  the  estate,  and  the  stdrosta  of  the 
commune,  who  were  waiting  in  the  anteroom,  listened  with 
terror  and  satisfaction  at  first,  as  the  young  count's  voioe  began 
to  grow  fiercer  and  louder ;  while  they  could  distinguish  terrible 
words  of  abuse,  following  one  upon  another. 

"  You  brigand,  you  ungrateful  wretch  !  —  I'll  whip  you  like  a 
dog  !  —  You're  not  dealing  with  my  pdpenka  this  time,"  and 
words  of  the  like  import. 

Then  these  men,  with  no  less  satisfaction  and  terror,  saw 
the  young  count,  all  flushed,  and  with  bloodshot  eyes,  dragging 
Mitenka  by  the  collar,  and  re-enforcing  his  efforts  with  very 
dexterous  applications  of  his  knees  and  feet,  whenever  the 
pauses  between  his  words  gave  him  a  convenient  chance ;  while 
he  cried  at  the  top  of  his  voice,  '<  Get  out  of  here !  you  villain  ? 
Don't  you  ever  show  your  face  here  again !  " 

Mitenka  flew  down  the  six  steps  head  first,  and  landed  in  a  bed 
of  shrubbery.  This  shrubbery  was  a  famous  place  of  refuge  for 
delinquents  at  Otradnoye.  Mitenka  himself,  when  he  returned 
tipsy  from  town,  was  wont  to  hide  in  it ;  and  many  of  the  in- 
habitants  of  Otradnoye,  trying  to  get  out  of  Mitenka's  way, 
knew  the  advantages  of  this  place  as  a  refuge. 

Mitenka's  wife  and  her  sister,  with  terror-stricken  faces, 
peered  out  of  the  door  of  the  room,  where  a  polished  samovir 
was  bubbling,  and  where  the  high-post  bedstead  affected  by 
overseers  could  be  seen,  covered  with  a  patchwork  quilt. 

The  young  count,  all  out  of  breath,  and  giving  them  no 
attention,  strode  by  them  with  resolute  steps,  and  went  into 
the  house. 

The  countess,  who  had  heard  from  the  maids  all  that  had 
taken  place  in  the  wing,  was,  in  one  sense,  delighted  at  the 
direction  which  their  s&airs  were  now  evidently  going  to 
take;  and  in  another  she  was  disquieted  at  the  way  in  which 
her  son  had  taken  hold  of  the  matter. 

She  went  several  times  on  tiptoe  to  his  door,  and  listened  as 
he  smoked  one  pipe  after  another. 

The  next  day,  the  old  count  called  Nikolai  to  one  side,  and 
with  a  timid  smile,  said,  — 

**  But  do  you  know,  my  dear,  you  wasted  your  fire !  Mitenka 
has  told  me  all  about  it." 

"  I  knew,"  thought  Nikolai,  "  that  I  should  never  aooom- 
plish  anything  here,  in  this  idiotic  world." 


WAR  AND  PEACB.  249 

"You  were  angpry  with  him  because  he  did  not  reckon  in 
those  seven  hundred  rubles.  But,  do  you  know,  they  were 
carried  over,  and  you  did  not  look  on  the  other  pa^e." 

"  Papenka,  he  is  a  scoundrel  and  a  thief :  I  know  he  is !  And 
what  1  have  done,  I  have  done.  But  if  you  don't  wish  it,  I 
won't  say  anything  more  to  him  about  it." 

"No,  my  dear."  The  count  was  also  confused.  He  was 
conscious  that  he  liimself  had  been  a  bad  administrator  of  his 
wife's  estate,  and  that  he  was  guilty  toward  their  children ; 
but  he  did  not  know  how  to  set  things  right.  "  No,  I  beg  of 
you,  take  charge  of  our  affairs ;  I  am  old,  I "  — 

"  No,  pdpenka,  forgive  me  if  I  have  done  anything  disagree- 
able to  you ;  I  am  less  able  to  attend  to  it  than  you  are.  —  The 
devil  take  these  muzhiks,  and  accounts,  and  carryings  over," 
he  said  to  himself.  "  I  used  to  know  well  enough  what  quarter 
stakes  on  a  six  at  faro  meant ;  but  this  carrying  over  to  the 
next  page,  I  don't  know  anything  about  it  at  all,"  said  he  to 
himself ;  and  from  that  time  forth,  he  gave  no  more  attention 
to  their  pecuniary  affairs.  Once,  however,  the  countess  called 
her  son  to  her,  and  told  him  that  she  had  a  note  of  hand  given 
her  by  Anna  Mikhailovna,  for  two  thousand  rubles,  and  she 
asked  Nikolai's  advice  as  to  what  ought  to  be  done  about  it. 

*'  This  is  what  I  think,"  replied  Nikolai.  "  You  have  told 
me  that  I  was  to  decide  the  question.  Well,  I  don't  like  Anna 
Mikhailovna,  and  I  don't  like  Boris ;  but  they  have  been  friends 
of  ours,  and  are  poor.  This  is  what  we  will  do,  then  ! "  and 
he  took  the  note  and  tore  it  in  two ;  and  this  action  made  the 
aid  countess  actually  sob  with  delight. 

After  this,  the  young  Rostof  entirely  forswore  interference 
with  their  business  matters,  and  entered  with  passionate 
enthusiasm  into  the  delights  of  hunting  with  the  hounds,  for 
which  the  old  count  set  him  an  example  on  a  large  scale. 


CHAPTER  III. 

Alrbadt  the  wintry  frosts  had  begun,  each  morning,  to  chain 
up  the  soil,  soaked  by  the  autumnal  rains  ;  already  there  was 
green  only  in  patches,  and  these  made  a  vivid  contrast  against 
the  strips  of  brownish  stubble-iields,  trodden  down  by  the  cattle, 
and  the  patches  of  winter  or  spring  wheat,  or  the  russet  lines 
of  the  buckwheat  fields.  The  forest  tree-tops,  which  even  as 
early  as  the  end  of  August  had  been  green  islands  amid  the  . 
black  fields  of  winter  wheat  and  the  corn  stubble,  were  now 


i50  WAR  AND  PS  ACS. 

golden  and  crimson  islands  amid  the  fields  of  bright  green 
wheat. 

The  gray  hare  had  already  more  than  half  changed  his  coat ; 
the  foxes  were  beginning  to  quit  their  holes,  and  young 
wolves  were  larger  than  dogs.  It  was  the  very  height  of  the 
hunting  season.  The  hounds  belonging  to  that  eager  young 
huntsman,  Kostof,  were  now  in  excellent  training  for  their 
work ;  but  they  had  been  taken  out  so  assiduously,  that,  by  the 
general  advice  of  the  whippers-in,  it  had  been  decided  to  give 
them  three  days'  rest,  and  to  set  upon  the  28th  of  September 
for  the  hunt ;  at  which  time  they  would  begin  with  a  certain 
dense  forest,  where  there  was  a  litter  of  young  wolves. 

Such  was  the  state  of  affairs  on  the  26th  of  September. 

All  that  day  the  hunting  train  was  at  home.  It  had  been 
bitter  cold,  but  toward  evening  it  grew  warmer  and  began  to 
thaw.  On  tlie  morning  of  the  twenty-seventh,  when  yoang 
Kostof  went  in  his  dressing-gown  to  his  window,  he  looked 
out  upon  a  morning  which  could  not  have  been  better  for 
hunting :  the  very  sky  seemed  to  be  melting  and  flooding  out 
over  the  earth.  There  was  no  sign  of  a  breeze.  The  only 
motion  in  the  air  was  that  faint  stir  of  microscopic  drops  of 
mist  or  fog,  falling  from  above.  On  the  bare  limbs  of  the 
park  trees,  transparent  drops  hung  and  fell  on  the  leaves  that 
carpeted  the  ground.  The  garden  soil  had  a  peculiar  black 
and  glistening  appearance,  like  poppy,  and  within  a  short 
distance  lost  itself  under  the  dim  and  moist  curtain  of  fog. 
.  Nikolai  stepped  out  upon  the  wet  doorsteps,  all  covered  with 
mud.  There  was  an  odor  of  dying  forest  vegetation,  and  of 
dogs.  Milka,  the  black-spotted  bitch,  with  broi^  hind-quarters, 
and  big  black  goggle  eyes,  got  up  when  she  saw  her  master, 
stretched  herself  bock,  and  lay  down  like  a  hare ;  then  unex- 
pectedly leaped  up  and  licked  his  face  and  ears.  Another  dog, 
a  greyhound,  seeing  his  master,  came  bounding  up  the  garden 
path,  arching  his  back,  and  impetuously  raising  his  helm  (that 
IS,  his  tail),  began  to  rub  around  Nikolai's  legs. 

"  0  hoi  I "  rang  out  at  this  moment  that  inimitable  hunts- 
man's call,  which  comprises  in  itself  the  deepest  bass  and*  the 
clearest  tenor,  and  around  the  corner  appeared  the  whipper-in 
and  hunter,  Danilo :  a  grizzled,  wrinkled  man,  with  bis  hair 
cropped,  leaving  a  knob,  after  the  fashion  of  the  Ukraina, 
and  carrying  a  long  whip,  with  curling  lash.  He  had  that 
independent  expression  and  scorn  for  all  the  world,  so  charac- 
teristic of  huntsmen.  He  took  off  his  Circassian  cap  in  his 
barin's  presence,  and  looked  at  him  scornfully.    This  expres- 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  251 

sion  of  scorn  was  not  meant  to  be  insulting  to  the  barin :  Nik- 
olai knew  that,  scornful  and  superior  as  this  Danilo  seemed  to 
be,  he  was,  nevertheless,  his  devoted  servant  and  huntsman. 

''  Danila ! "  said  Nikolai,  with  a  timid  consciousness  that  in 
this  perfect  hunting  weather,  with  these  dogs,  and  this  hunts- 
man, he  was  seized  by  that  indefinable  passion  for  hunting 
which  makes  a  man  forget  all  his  former  good  resolutions  like 
a  fond  lover  in  the  presence  of  his  mistress. 

"  What  do  you  please  to  require,  your  illustriousness?  "  asked 
a  deep,  antiphonal  bass,  hoarse  with  shouting  at  the  hounds ; 
and  two  bright  black  eyes  gazed  out  from  under  the  brows  at 
the  silent  barin.  <<  Well,  and  can't  yon  resist  ?  "  these  two 
eyes  seemed  to  be  asking. 

"  Fine  day,  isn't  it  ?  A  chase  and  a  race,  hey  ?  "  asked  Nik- 
olai, pulling  Milka's  ears. 

Danilo  said  nothing,  and  winked  his  eyes. 

"  I  sent  XJvarka  out  at  sunrise  this  morning  to  listen,"  said 
his  deep  bass,  after  a  minute's  pause.  ^^  He  says  she^s  drawn 
into  the  Otradnenskv  zakds,  and  they're  howling  there."  (He 
meant  that  a  she-wolf,  which  they  both  knew  about,  had  gone 
with  her  whelps  into  the  Otradneusky  forest  preserves,  which 
was  a  small  detached  property,  about  two  versts  from  the 
bouse.) 

^^  Well,  we  must  go  after  them,  mustn't  we  ?  "  said  Nikolai 
"  Come  with  XJvarka,  will  you  ?  " 

"  Just  as  you  order ! " 

"  See  they  are  fed,  then." 

*' All  right!" 

In  five  minutes,  Danilo  and  XTvarka  were  standing  in  Niko- 
lai's great  library.  Though  Danilo  was  not  very  tall,  the  sight 
of  him  in  the  room  irresistibly  made  one  think  of  a  horse,  or 
a  bear,  surrounded  by  furniture  and  the  conditions  of  civilized 
life  :  Danilo  was  himself  conscious  of  this,  and,  according  to 
his  habit,  stood  as  near  the  door  as  possible,  striving  to  talk  in 
an  unnaturally  low  tone,  and  to  keep  from  moving,  lest  he 
should  break  something,  and  saying  what  he  had  to  say  as 
rapidly  as  possible,  so  as  to  get  out  into  the  open  air,  under 
the  sl^,  instead  of  the  ceiling. 

Having  asked  the  requisite  number  of  questions,  and  eli- 
cited from  Danilo  —  who  was  fully  as  anxious  himself  to 
go — the  information  that  it  would  not  hurt  the  dogs  any, 
Nikolai  ordered  the  horses  to  be  saddled.  But  just  as  Danilo 
was  on  the  point  of  leaving  the  room,  Natasha  came  hurrying 
in  with  swift  steps,  not  having  stopped  to  do  up  her  hair^  or 


252  WAR  AND  PEACE, 

finish  dressing,  but  wearing  her  nurse's  shawl.  Petya  came 
running  in  with  her. 

"  Are  you  going  ?  "  asked  Natasha.  "  I  thought  so !  Sonya 
declared  that  you  were  not  going.  I  knew  that  to-day  was 
such  a  perfect  day  that  you  would  have  to  go." 

"  Yes,  we're  going,"  curtly  replied  Nikolai,  who,  as  he  in- 
tended to  make  a  serious  business  of  hunting  that  day,  had  no 
wish  to  take  Natasha  and  Petya.  "  We  are  going ;  but  after 
wolves  only :  it  wouldn't  amuse  you." 

"  You  know  that  is  just  what  I  like  best  of  anything,"  said 
Natasha.  "  IVs  too  bad  to  be  going  yourself,  and  to  have  the 
horses  saddled,  and  say  never  a  word  to  us  ! " 

"  *  Vain  are  obstacles  to  Russians ! '  come  on  ! "  cried  Petya. 

"  Yes,  but  you  can't  go ;  mamenka  told  you  that  it  was  out 
of  the  question,"  said  Nikolai,  turning  to  Natasha. 

''  Yes,  I  am  going ;  I  certainly  am  going,"  insisted  Natasha 
firmly. 

"  Danila,  have  the  saddles  put  on  for  us,  and  have  Mikhaila 
bring  around  my  leash,"  said  she,  addressing  the  whipx)er-in. 

It  had  been  trying  and  uncomfortable  for  Danilo  to  be  in 
the  confinement  of  the  room  ;  but  to  receive  an  order  from  the 
young  lady  seemed  incredible.  He  cast  down  his  eyes,  and 
made  haste  to  go,  pretending  that  it  did  not  concern  him,  and 
striving  not  to  strike  against  her  in  any  way. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

The  old  count,  who  had  always  kept  up  an  immense  hunt- 
ing establishment,  had  turned  it  over  to  his  son's  manage- 
ment ;  but  on  this  day,  the  27th  of  September,  feeling  particu- 
larly cheerful,  he  determined  to  be  of  the  party. 

In  two  hours  the  whole  hunt  was  gathered  at  the  front  door- 
steps. Nikolai,  with  a  grave  and  solemn  face,  which  made  it 
evident  that  he  could  not  be  distracted  by  trifles,  walked  right 
by  Natasha  and  Petya,  without  heeding  what  they  said  to  him. 
He  personally  inspected  everything,  sent  forward  the  pack 
with  the  huntsmen,  mounted  his  sorrel  Donets ;  and,  whistling 
to  the  dogs  of  his  own  leash,  he  started  off  through  the  thresh- 
ing-floor into  the  field  that  stretched  toward  the  Otradnensky 
preserves.  The  old  count's  steed,  a  dun-colored  gelding,  named 
Viflyanka,  was  in  charge  of  the  count's  groom :  he  himself 
was  to  ride  in  his  drozhsky  straight  to  the  muset  which  he  had 
designated. 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  268 

The  whole  number  of  hounds  brought  together  was  fifty- 
four,  together  with  six  whippers-in  and  feeders.  Beside  the 
gentlemen,  there  were  also  eight  greyhound-grooms,  followed 
by  more  than  twoscore  greyhounds ;  so  that  with  the  master's 
dogs  in  leash,  there  were,  all  told,  about  one  hundred  and 
thirty  dogs,  and  twenty  mounted  huntsmen. 

Each  dog  knew  who  his  master  was,  and  answered  to  his 
call.     Each  man  knew  his  duty,  his  place,  and  his  work. 

As  soon  as  they  had  ridden,  beyond  the  hedge,  all,  without 
unnecessary  noise  or  talking,  galloped  smoothly  and  evenly 
along  the  road,  and  then  struck  into  the  fields  that  led  to  the 
Otradnensky  preserves. 

As  soon  as  the  horses  were  out  of  the  beaten  track,  they 
made  their  way  across  the  field,  as  though  it  were  a  carpet  of 
yielding  grass,  occasionally  splashing  through  pools  of  water. 
The  misty  sky  continued  the  same,  and  the  moisture  fell  monot- 
onously to  the  ground.  The  air  was  calm,  mild,  unresonant. 
Occasionally  were  heard  a  huntsman's  whistle,  the  snorting  of 
a  horse,  the  crack  of  the  long  lash,  and  the  whine  of  a  dog 
crouching  down  in  his  place. 

After  they  had  ridden  about  a  verst,  suddenly  out  of  the 
fog  loomed  five  more  riders  with  dogs,  coming  to  meet  the 
Bostofs.  In  front  of  them  rode  a  hale  and  hearty  old  man, 
with  heavy  gray  mustachios. 

'<  (rood-morniug,  <  little  uncle,' "  *  cried  Nikolai,  as  the  old 
man  rode  up  to  him. 

"  Here's  a  how-de-do  !  t  I  was  sure  of  it,"  said  the  old  man. 
He  was  a  neighbor  and  distant  relative  of  the  Kostofs — a 
landed  proprietor  of  small  means.  ^'  I  knew  it,  you  could  not 
resist  it,  and  it's  good  you  came.  Here's  a  how-de-do!" 
This  was  a  favorite  phrase  of  the  old  man's.  '^  Look  out  for 
the  cover,  double  quick,  for  my  Girchik  reports  that  the 
Uagins,  and  all  their  train,  are  in  at  Korniki,  and  they  might 
—  here's  a  how-de-do! — might  snatch  the  litter  away  from 
under  our  very  noses  !  " 

"That's  where  I  am  going.  Say,  shall  we  join  packs?" 
asked  Nikolai. 

They  united  all  the  hounds  into  one  large  pack,  and  the  old 
man,  whom  Nikolai  called  ^^  little  uncle,"  rode  along  by  his  side. 
Natasha,  muffled  up  in  shawls,  out  of  which  peered  her  eager 

*  Dvddpushkaf  diminutive. 

t  ChUtoye  dyelo  marsch .'  An  almost  meaningless  semi-military  phrase. 
Literalljy^ :  *' Clean  thing!  forward  I  " — invented  hj  the  speaker,  and  char- 
iicteri«Uc  of  him. 


254  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

face,  with  bright,  glistening  eyes,  galloped  up  to  them,  followed 
by  Petja  and  Mikhailo,  the  huntsman,  who  were  her  inseparable 
companions,  and  by  a  groom,  who  was  delegated  to  attend  her. 
Petya  was  full  of  glee,  and  kept  whipping  up  and  hauling  in 
his  horse.  Natasha  sat  firmly  and  gracefully  on  her  raven 
black  Arabchik,  and  i*eined  him  in  with  a  practised  hand, 
though  without  force. 

The  "  little  uncle  "  looked  disapprovingly  at  Petya  and  Nar 
tasha.  He  did  not  believe  in  combining  frivolities  with  the 
serious  business  of  hunting. 

'<  Good-morning,  '  little  uncle ; '  we  are  going  too/'  shouted 
Petya. 

*^  Good-morning  to  you,  good-morning ;  don't  ride  the  dogs 
down  ! "  cried  the  old  man  severely. 

'^  Kikolenka,  what  a  splendid  dog  Trunila  is  !  He  knew  me ! 
said  Natasha,  pointing  to  her  favorite  greyhound. 

'<  Trunila,  in  the  first  place,  is  not  a  dog,  but  a  hound^" 
mused  Nikolai,  and  gave  his  sister  a  stern  glanoe,  trying  to 
make  her  realize  the  immense  distance  that  separated  them  at 
that  moment.     Natasha  realized  it. 

"  Don't  you  imagine,  '  little  uncle,'  that  we  shall  be  in  any 
one^s  way,"  said  Natasha.  "  We  will  stay  in  our  own  places 
and  not  stir." 

'<  An  excellent  idea,  little  countess,"  *  said  the  ^^  little  uncle." 
"But  mind  you  don't  fall  off  your  horse,"  he  added.  "For 
you  see,  —  here's  a  how-de-do! — you  see  you've  nothing  to 
hold  on  by ! " 

The  "  island  "  of  the  Otradnensky  preserve  was  now  in  sight, 
two  or  three  hundred  yards  distant,  and  the  cavalcade  rode  up 
toward  it.  llostof  and  the  "little  uncle"  having  definitely 
decided  where  they  should  set  in  the  hounds,  and  shown 
Natasha  her  post,  a  place  where  there  was  not  the  slightest 
chance  of  anything  ever  passing,  crossed  through  a  ravine 
into  the  woods. 

"  Well,  little  nephew,  stand  on  solid  ground,"  said  the  "little 
uncle."     "  Take  care  not  to  let  her  get  by." 

"  That  depends,"  replied  Rostof .  "  Phut !  Karai ! "  he  cried ; 
by  this  call  answering  the  old  man's  words.  Karai  was  an 
aged,  deformed,  ugly-faced  hound,  famous  for  having  cmoe 
tackled  by  himself  a  she-wolf. 

All  got  to  their  posts. 

The  old  count,  knowing  his  son's  passionate  zeal  for  hunting, 
had  made  good  time,  so  as  not  to  be  behindhand  \  and  the  caval- 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  255 

cade  had  scarcely  reached  the  preserve,  when  Ilya  Andreyitch, 
cheerful  and  mddy,  with  shaking  cheeks,  came  jolting  across 
the  fields,  behind  his  three  black  horses,  and  was  set  down  at 
the  muset  which  he  had  selected.  Smoothing  out  his  fur  shuba, 
and  getting  his  hunting  equipment,  he  mounted  his  glossy 
Viflyanka,  fat,  kind,  and  steady,  and  as  gray  as  himself.  The 
horses  and  the  drozhsky  were  sent  home.  Count  Ilya  Andrey- 
itchy  although  not  a  keen  huntsman  at  heart,  nevertheless  was 
well  acquainted  with  the  rules  of  venery  ;  and  he  rode  off  to 
the  edge  of  the  forest,  gathered  up  his  reins,  settled  himself 
in  the  saddle,  and,  feeling  conscious  that  he  was  all  ready, 
glanced  around,  with  a  smile. 

Near  him  stood  his  valet,  an  old-fashioned  but  heavy  rider, 
Semyon  Chekmar.  Chekmar  held  in  leash  three  fierce-looking 
wolf-hounds,  not  less  fat  and  sleek  than  master  and  horse. 
Two  dogs,  old  and  intelligent  enough  to  be  out  of  leash, 
stretched  themselves  out  on  the  ground.  A  hundred  paces 
farther  along  the  edge  of  the  forest  was  stationed  the  count's 
second  whipper-in,  Mitka,  a  splendid  rider,  and  passionate 
huntsman.  The  count,  in  accordance  with  time-honored 
custom,  before  the  hunt  began,  drank  a  silver  cup  full  of  zap- 
ekdnotchka,  or  root  brandy,  took  a  snack  of  lunch,  and  then 
drank  a  half-bottle  of  his  favorite  Bordeaux. 

Ilya  Andreyitch  was  a  trifle  flushed  from  the  wine  and  the 
ride ;  his  eyes  grew  moist,  and  had  a  peculiar  gleam ;  and  as 
he  sat  in  his  saddle,  muffled  in  his  shuba,  he  had  the  aspect  of 
a  child  who  has  been  got  ready  for  a  ride. 

The  lean  Chekmar,  with  sunken  cheeks,  having  got  things 
settled  to  his  satisfaction,  looked  up  at  his  barin,  whose  insep- 
arable companion  he  had  been  for  upwards  of  thirty  years, 
and  perceiving  that  he  was  in  good  humor,  waited  for  some 
pleasant  talk.  Just  then  a  third  person  rode  up  cautiously  — 
evidently  the  result  of  careful  training  —  and,  coming  out  from 
behind  the  woods,  paused  not  far  from  the  count. 

This  individual  was  an  old  man,  with  a  gray  beard,  in  a 
woman's  capote  and  high  collar.  This  was  the  buffoon  who 
bore  the  woman's  name,  Nastasya  Ivanovna. 

*'  Well,  Nastasya  Ivanovna,"  said  the  old  count  to  him  in  a 
whisper,  and  giving  him  a  wink,  "  if  you  should  dare  to  scare 
away  the  brute,  D^ila  would  give  it  to  you ! " 

''  I  can  defend  myself,"  said  Nastasya  Ivanovna. 

"  Sh-sh-sh-sh-sh ! "  hissed  the  count,  and,  turning  to  Sem- 
yon, he  asked, "  Have  you  eeen  Natalia  Ily initchna  ? — Where 
is  she  ? '' 


256  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

"She  and  Piotr  llyitch  were  stationed  in  the  high  grass* 
near  Zharovo,"  replied  Semyon,  with  a  smile.  "  She's  a  lady, 
but  she's  going  to  have  a  great  hunt  all  the  same.'' 

"And  aren't  you  surprised,  Semvon,  to  see  how  she  tides — 
hey  ? ''  asked  the  count.     "  She  riaes  as  well  as  a  man ! " 

"  Of  course,  I'm  surprised.     Such  daring  !  such  skill  1 " 

"  And  where  is  Nikolasha  ?  On  Lyadovo  hill,  I  suppose  ?  " 
asked  the  count,  in  a  whisper. 

"  That's  where  he  is.  He  knows  well  enough  where  the 
best  places  are.  And  he  rides  so  cleverly  too :  Danila  and  I 
were  thunderstruck  at  him  the  other  day,"  replied  Semyon, 
knowing  what  would  please  the  count. 

"  He  rides  well,  does  he  ?  Hey  ?  Fine  fellow  on  a  horse, 
is  he?     Hey?" 

"  Like  a  picture !  How  he  run  that  fox  Vother  day  out  of 
the  steppe  at  Zavarzino !  How  he  did  gallop  out  of  the 
woods,  'twas  a  caution!  Horse  worth  a  thousand,  but  the 
rider  beyond  price !  'Twould  be  a  hard  job  to  find  such 
another  young  fellow." 

"  It  would,  indeed,"  interposed  the  count,  regretting  that 
Semyon  did  not  spin  his  story  out  longer.  "  'Twould  be  a 
hard  job,  would  it  ?  "  turning  back  the  flap  of  his  shubka,  and 
searching  for  his  snuff-box. 

"  Then  the  other  day,  coming  out  of  mass,  in  all  his  regalia^ 
when  Mikhail'to  Sidoruitch  "  — 

But  Semyon  did  not  conclude  his  sentence,  having  dis- 
tinctly heard,  owing  to  the  stillness  of  the  atmosphere,  the 
howling  of  a  hound  or  two,  signifying  that  the  hunt  was  on : 
he  bent  down  his  head,  and  listened,  and  gave  a  warning  ges- 
ture to  his  barin. 

"  They  are  after  the  whelps  ! "  he  whispered.  "  They  are 
making  straight  for  Lyadovskaya," 

The  count,  with  the  smile  still  lingering  on  his  lips,  gazed 
into  the  distance,  along  the  dike,  and  held  the  snuff-box  in 
his  hand,  forgetting  to  take  a  pinch.  Instantly  following  the 
baying  of  the  hounds  came  the  signal  that  the  wolf  was  found, 
sounded  on  Danilo's  heavy  horn.  Then  the  pack  united  their 
voices  with  those  of  the  first  three  hounds ;  and  then  they 
could  hear  the  hounds  breaking  in,  across  the  ravine,^  with  that 
peculiar  howl  which  is  the  sign  to  the  huntsman  that  they 
have  discovered  the  wolf.  The  riders  had  not  yet  begun  to 
eg^  on  the  dogs,  but  were  uttering  the  uliuliu ;  and  louder 
than  all  rang  out  Danilo's  voice,  now  in  bass,  now  in  piercingly 

*  Buryan,  steppe-grass. 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  267 

shrill  notes :  it  seemed  as  though  his  voice  filled  the  whole 
forest,  and  burst  out  beyond  the  forest  bounds,  and  rang  far 
over  the  fields. 

After  listening  for  a  number  of  seconds  in  silence,  the 
coiiiit  and  his  groom  were  convinced  that  the  hunt  had  divided 
into  two  packs.  The  larger  half,  vehemently  giving  tongue, 
were  driving  farther  afield ;  the  other  pack  were  rushing  along 
the  forest  past  the  count,  while  behind  them  was  heard  Dan- 
ilo's  uliuliu.  The  sounds  mingled  and  melted  together,  but 
seemed  to  be  growing  fainter  iii  the  distance.  Semyon  sighed, 
and  stooped  down  to  disentangle  his  leash,  a  young  puppy 
having  got  the  cords  mixed  up.  The  count  also  sighed ;  and, 
noticing  that  he  had  his  snufF-box  still  in  his  hand,  opened  it 
and  took  out  a  pinch  of  snuff. 

"  Back,"  cried  Semyon  to  the  young  hound,  which  was  try- 
ing to  make  for  the  woods.  The  count  was  startled,  and 
dropped  his  snuff-box.  Nastasya  Ivanovna  dismounted,  and 
was  just  on  the  point  of  picking  it  up.  The  count  and  Sem- 
yon were  looking  at  him.  Suddenly,  as  often  happens,  the 
sounds  of  the  hunt  came  nearer,  and  it  seemed  as  though  the 
baying  mouths  of  the  dogs  and  Danilo's  uliuliu  were  directly 
upon  them. 

The  count  looked  round,  and  at  his  right  saw  Mitka,  who, 
with  starting  eyes,  was  staring  at  him,  and,  lifting  his  cap, 
directed  his  attention  in  front  of  him  to  the  other  side. 

"  Look  out ! "  he  shouted,  in  such  a  voice  that  it  was  evident 
that  this  word  had  been  for  some  time  painfully  struggling  to 
escs^.  And,  letting  loose  his  leash,  he  dashed  in  the  count's 
direction.  The  count  and  Semyon  sprang  out  from  the  cover, 
and  saw  at  their  left  a  wolf  swinging  easily  along,  and  with  a 
noiseless  lope  making  for  the  very  cover  where  they  had  been 
in  hiding.  The  ferocious  dogs  yelped,  and,  tearing  themselves 
free  from  the  leash,  flung  themselves  after  the  wolf,  almost 
under  the  legs  of  the  horses. 

The  wolf  paused  in  his  course,  awkwardly,  like  one  suffering 
with  the  quinsy,  turned  his  head,  with  its  wide  forehead,  in 
the  direction  of  the  dogs,  and  then  again  with  the  same  easy, 
waddling  gait,  gave  one  spring,  and  then  another,  and  shaking 
his  "  stump  "  (tail),  disappeared  in  the  cover. 

At  the  same  instant,  with  a  roar  that  rather  resembled  a 
whine,  from  the  opposite  edge  of  the  forest,  appeared  first  one, 
then  a  second,  then  a  third,  hound,  and  then  the  whole  pack 
came  pouring  out  into  the  field,  in  the  very  track  by  which  the 
wolf  had  sneaked  away  and  escaped.  On  the  heels  of  the 
VOL.  2.— 17. 


268  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

hounds,  appeared  Danilo's  horse,  all  black  with  sweak,  breaking 
through  the  hazel  bushes.  Over  his  long  back,  bending  for- 
ward, and  doubled  up  like  a  ball,  sat  Danilo,  hatless,  witii  hia 
gray  hair  dishevelled  and  falling  around  his  sweaty  face, 

^^  UlivZiuliu  !  Uliuliu  /  "  he  was  shouting.  When  he  saw  the 
count,  his  eyes  flashed  fire. 

'<  You  sh  "  —  he  began,  menacing  the  count  with  his  upraised 
whip-handle.     *^  You've  lost  that  wolf  !    What  hunters  ! " 

And  as  though  scorning  to  have  further  conversation  with 
the  confused  and  startled  count,  he  gave  the  wet  flank  of  his 
chestnut  stallion  the  wrathful  blow  which  had  been  directed 
against  the  count,  and  dashed  after  the  hounds.  The  count, 
like  one  who  had  been  chastised,  remained  motionless ;  and, 
looking  around  with  a  scai*ed  smile,  was  going  to  try  to  gather 
sympathy  for  his  situation  from  Semyon.  But  Semyon  had 
disappeared :  he  was  riding  in  and  out  of  the  bushes,  trying  to 
start  the  wolf  up  from  the  thicket.  The  masters  of  the  grey- 
hounds also  were  beating  up  the  brute  from  all  sides.  But 
the  wolf  had  made  his  way  into  the  bushes,  and  not  a  single 
hunter  got  sight  of  him. 


CHAPTER  V. 

Nikolai  Bostof,  meantime,  had  not  left  his  post,  and 
anxiously  expecting  the  brute.  By  the  nearer  and  more  distant 
sounds  of  the  hunt ;  by  the  baying  of  the  hounds,  whose  voices 
he  could  distinguish ;  by  the  shouts  of  the  whippers-in,  advan- 
cing and  retreating,  —  he  had  an  idea  of  what  was  going  on  in 
the  '^  island."  He  knew  that  the  '^  island  "  sheltered  growing 
and  full-grown  wolves ;  that  is,  old  wolves  and  their  whelps. 
He  knew  that  the  hounds  had  divided  into  two  packs ;  that  in 
one  place  they  were  on  the  right  scent,  and  that  elsewhere  they 
had  met  with  bad  luck.  He  expected  each  second  to  see  the 
beast  making  in  his  direction.  He  made  a  thousand  different 
conjectures  as  to  which  side  the  brute  would  come  out,  and 
how  he  should  attack  him.  His  heart  was  filled  with  mingled 
hope  and  despair. 

Several  times  he  offered  up  a  prayer  to  Grod  that  the  wolf 
might  come  in  his  way :  he  prayed  with  that  sense  of  passion- 
ate anxiety  with  which  men  are  wont  to  pray  under  the  influ- 
ence of  some  powerful  excitement,  even  though  it  may  be  due 
)k>  the  most  trivial  cause. 

**  Now  what  would  it  be  tQ  Tb©e,"  be  m^  ip  bis  prayer,  "  to 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  259 

do  this  for  me  ?  I  know  that  Thou  art  mighty,  and  that  it  is 
a  sin  to  ask  Thee  for  such  a  thing ;  but  for  God's  sake  let  an 
old  full-grown  wolf  come  my  way,  and  let  Karai  get  a  death 
clutch  on  her  throat,  in  sight  of  the  ^  little  uncle '  who  keeps 
glancing  over  in  this  direction." 

A  thousand  times  during  that  half-hour,  Kostof  swept  his 
eyes  eagerly,  restlessly,  and  with  stubborn  purpose,  around 
that  thicket  of  forest,  where  two  mighty  oaks  looked  down 
upon  the  aspen  underbrush ;  and  at  the  ravine,  with  its  gullied 
banks ;  and  at  the  "  little  uncle's"  cap,  just  visible  underneath 
the  bushes  on  the  right. 

"  No,  I  sha'n't  have  this  luck,"  thought  Rostof .  "  But  how 
jolly  it  would  be !  No  hope !  always  the  same  bad  luck  with 
me  at  cards,  and  in  war,  and  everywhere." 

Austerlitz  and  Dolokhof,  in  vivid  but  swift  alternation,  flashed 
through  his  mind. 

"  If  I  could  only  just  once  in  my  life  run  down  a  full-grown 
wolf,  that  is  all  that  I  would  ask  for ! "  he  said  to  himself, 
straining  his  ears  and  his  eyes,  as  his  gaze  swept  the  thicket 
from  left  to  right,  and  as  he  tried  to  distinguish  the  slightest 
variation  in  the  noise  of  the  hunt. 

Then  again  he  glanced  to  the  right,  and  beheld  something 
swiftly  moving  across  the  open  field,  in  his  direction. 

"  No,  it  is  impossible ! "  thought  Rostof,  with  a  heavy  sigh, 
as  a  man  sighs  when  what  he  has  been  long  looking  forward 
to  is  practically  accomplished.  And  here  the  greatest  piece 
of  good  fortune  was  accomplishing  so  simply,  so  noiselessly, 
so  undemonstratively,  without  a  sign!  Rostof  could  not 
believe  his  eyes ;  and  this  incredulity  lasted  more  than  a 
second.  The  wolf  came  running  forward,  and  leaped  clumsily 
over  the  ravine  that  lay  across  his  path.  It  was  an  aged  brute, 
with  a  gray  back,  and  a  clearly  marked  russet  belly.  He  ran 
along  at  no  great  speed,  evidently  convinced  that  no  one  could 
see  him.  Itostof,  not  daring  to  breathe,  glanced  at  his  dogs : 
they  were  lying  down  or  standing  up  all  around,  but  had  not 
yet  discovered  the  wolf,  or  realized  what  was  going  on.  Old 
Karai,  bending  his  head  back,  and  showing  his  yellow  teeth, 
occasionally  snapping  them  together,  was  making  a  spiteful 
search  for  a  flea,  on  his  haunch. 

"  Uliuliuliu  I "  whispered  Rostof,  thrusting  out  his  lips.  The 
dogs,  shaking  their  chains,  and  pricking  up  their  ears,  sprang 
to  their  feet.  Karai  ceased  his  flea-hunting,  and  got  up,  cock- 
ing his  ears,  and  slightly  wagging  his  tail,  on  which  stul  hung 
a  few  shreds  of  hair. 


260  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

"  Shall  I  let  'em  loose  yet,  or  not  ?  "  queried  Bostof ;  while 
the  wolf  was  making  in  his  direction,  and  steadily  increasing 
his  distance  from  the  woods.  Suddenly  the  wolfs  whole 
appearance  underwent  a  change :  a  thrill  ran  over  him,  at  the 
sight  of  what  he  had  never  probably  experienced  before,  a 
pair  of  human  eyes  fixed  upon  him ;  and,  slightly  raising  his 
head  toward  the  huntsman,  he  paused. 

"  Back  or  forward  ?  Eh !  it's  all  the  same !  Forward ;  we'll 
see,"  he  seemed  to  say  to  himself ;  and,  without  looking  around, 
he  dashed  ahead,  with  occasional  leaps,  easy  and  long,  but  de- 
cided. 

*^  Uliuliu  ! "  cried  Nikolai,  in  a  voice  that  sounded  not  his 
own ;  his  good  steed,  of  her  own  accord,  bore  him  forward 
down  the  slope,  leaping  the  ravine,  to  cut  off  the  wolf;  and 
still  swifter,  entirely  outstripping  her,  rushed  the  hounds. 
Nikolai  did  not  hear  his  own  shout,  was  not  conscious  of  the 
pace  at  which  he  was  riding,  saw  neither  the  dogs  nor  the 
ground  over  which  he  was  carried ;  saw  only  the  wolf,  which, 
quickening  his  speed,  bounded  on,  without  swerving,  in  the 
direction  of  the  ravine.  The  black-spotted,  wide-haunched 
Milka  was  the  first  to  get  close  to  the  wild  beast.  Nearer, 
nearer,  she  seemed  to  press  —  there,  she  leaps  upon  him! 
But  the  wolf  swerved  a  trifle  toward  her,  and  instead  of 
attacking,  as  was  usually  the  case  with  her,  Milka,  suddenly 
raising  her  tail,  came  to  point. 

"  Ulivliuliuliu  I "  cried  Nikolai. 

The  red  Liubim  leaped  beyond  Milka,  impetuously  flung  him- 
self on  the  wolf,  and  gripped  him  by  the  haunch ;  but,  at  the 
same  instant,  overcome  by  panic,  he  sprang  to  one  side.  The 
wolf  crouched  down,  clapped  his  teeth  together,  then  sprang 
up  again,  and  bounded  forward:  followed  at  an  arshin's 
distance  by  all  the  hounds,  though  they  avoided  getting 
closer. 

''  He'll  escape !  No,  that's  impossible  I "  mused  Nikolai, 
continuing  to  shout  in  a  hoarse  voice,  — 

"  Karai !  Uliuliu  I  "  he  screamed,  trying  to  make  out  where 
the  old  wolf-hound  was  ;  he  was  now  his  only  reliance.  Karai, 
with  all  the  strength  left  him  by  his  advanced  age,  bounding 
forward,  looking  at  the  wolf  from  the  corner  of  his  eyes,  was 
running  heavily  side  by  side  with  the  brute,  trying  to  get  in 
front  of  him.  But,  owing  to  the  swiftness  of  the  wolf,  and 
the  comparative  slowness  of  the  hound,  it  was  evident  that 
Karai's  calculation  was  to  be  mistaken. 

Nikolai  now  began  to  see  the  forest  in  front  of  him,  which. 


WAn  AND  PEACE.  261 

if  the  wolf  succeeded  in  reaching  it,  would  probably  prove  his 
safety.  Just  then,  in  front  of  them,  a  pack  of  dogs  and  a 
huntsman  came  in  sight,  dashing  almost  directly  toward  him. 
Here  again  was  a  hope.  A  dark  brown  young  dog,  with  a 
long  body,  belonging  to  a  kennel  unknown  to  Eostof,  was  fly- 
ing eagerly  forward,  directly  toward  the  wolf,  and  quite  upset 
him.  The  wolf  swiftly  and  most  unexpectedly  sprang  up  and 
threw  himself  upon  the  dark  brown  hound,  chattered  his  teeth, 
and  the  hound,  covered  with  blood,  from  a  great  gash  in  his 
side,  with  a  pitiful  howl,  beat  his  head  on  the  ground. 

"Karaiushka!  Oh,  heavens!"  mourned  Nikolai.  The  old 
hound,  with  the  tufts  of  hair  flying  out  from  his  haunches, 
had  tal^en  advantage  of  the  pause  that  he  had  made  to  block 
the  wolfs  path,  and  was  now  within  five  paces  of  him.  The 
wolf,  apparently  conscious  of  the  peril,  looked  out  of  the  corner 
of  his  eyes  at  Karai,  put  his  stump  of  a  tail  as  far  as  possible 
under  his  legs,  and  went  off  at  a  mighty  bound.  But,  at  this 
instant, — Nikolai  simply  saw  that  something  extraordinary 
happened  to  the  dog,  —  Karai,  quick  as  a  flash,  was  on  the 
wolrs  back,  and  the  two  were  rolling  heels  over  head  down 
into  the  ravine  in  front  of  them. 

The  moment  that  Nikolai  caught  sight  of  the  dog  and  the 
wolf  rolling  at  the  bottom  of  the  ravine,  in  one  indiscriminate 
mass,  out  of  which  could  be  resolved  the  wolf's  gray  hide, 
his  hind-leg  stretched  out,  and  his  face  scared,  and  panting, 
with  laid-back  ears  (Karai  still  held  him  by  the  gorge),  —  the 
minute  that  Nikolai  saw  this  was  the  happiest  moment  of  his 
whole  life.  He  was  just  grasping  the  saddle-bow  to  dismount 
and  give  the  wolf  his  flnishing  stroke,  when  suddenly,  from 
out  of  that  mass  of  dogs,  the  brute's  head  was  extended,  then 
his  fore-paws  were  laid  on  the  edge  of  the  ravine.  The  wolf 
chattered  his  teeth  —  Karai  had  now  let  go  of  his  gullet  — 
gave  a  mighty  leap  with  his  hind-legs,  and,  flirting  his  tail, 
again  got  his  distance  from  the  dogs,  and  was  off  at  full 
speed.  Karai,  with  bristling  hair,  apparently  either  bruised 
or  wounded,  crawled  painfully  out  of  the  ravine. 

"  My  God !  what  does  it  mean  ?  "  cried  Nikolai,  in  despair. 

The  "  little  uncle's  "  whipper-in  started  from  the  other  side 
to  cut  off  the  wolf's  course,  and  his  dogs  again  brought  the 
wolf  to  bay.     Again  they  gathered  round  him. 

Nikolai,  his  whipper-in,  the  "  little  uncle,"  and  his  hunts- 
men, circled  around  the  wolf,  crying  their  ulhdiu,  and  scream- 
ing to  the  dogs ;  at  each  minute,  whenever  the  wolf  sat  up  on 
his  haunches,  expecting  to  dismoimt ;  and  each  time  dashing 


262  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

forward,  whenever  the  wolf  shook  himself  free,  and  tried  to 
dash  toward  the  thicket,  which  was  his  only  salvation. 

At  the  very  beginning  of  this  wolf-baiting  scene,  Danilo, 
hearing  the  hunters'  uUuUu,  came  galloping  along  the  edge  of 
the  forest.  He  got  there  in  time  to  see  Karai  grapple  with 
the  wolf ;  and  he  pulled  in  his  horse  expecting  to  see  that  the 
game  was  finished.  But  when  the  huntsmen  did  not  dismount, 
and  the  wolf  shook  himself  and  made  off,  Danilo  spurred 
on  his  chestnut ;  not  indeed  at  the  wolf,  but  in  a  straight  line 
toward  the  thicket,  in  the  same  way  as  Karai  had  done,  so  as 
to  intercept  the  beast.  Danilo  galloped  forward  silently,  hold- 
ing an  unsheathed  dagger  in  his  left  hand ;  and  like  a  nail  fell 
the  strokes  of  his  whip  on  his  chestnut's  laboring  sides. 

Nikolai  had  not  seen  or  heard  Danilo,  until  his  heavily  pant- 
ing steed  dashed  by ;  and  then  he  heard  the  sound  of  a  falling 
body,  and  saw  that  Danilo  had  flung  himself  into  the  midst  of 
the  dogs,  back  of  the  wolf,  and  was  trying  to  clutch  him  by 
the  ears.  It  was  manifest  now  for  the  dogs,  and  for  the  hunts- 
men, and  for  the  wolf,  even,  that  all  was  over.  The  wild  beast, 
timidly  laying  back  his  ears,  was  stniggling  to  gather  himself 
up  once  more ;  but  the  dogs  formed  a  ring  round  him.  Danilo, 
reaching  forward,  made  a  staggering  step,  and  with  all  his 
weight  threw  himself  upon  the  wolf,  as  though  he  were  lying 
down  to  rest,  and  seized  him  by  the  ears.  Nikolai  was  going 
to  stab  him,  but  Danilo  muttered,  — 

"  Don't  do  it,  we'll  gag  him ! "  and,  changing  his  position, 
he  placed  his  foot  on  the  wolf's  neck.  Then  they  put  a  stake 
into  the  wolf's  jaws,  fastened  him  as  though  they  were  getting 
him  into  a  leash,  tied  his  legs,  and  Danilo  twice  rolled  the 
brute  over  and  over. 

With  weary  but  happy  faces,  they  lifted  the  live,  full-grown 
wolf  on  the  shying  and  whinnying  horse ;  and,  accompanied 
by  the  dogs,  all  yelping  at  him,  they  took  him  to  the  place  of 
general  rendezvous. 

All  came  together,  and  began  to  examine  the  wolf,  which, 
with  his  great  broad-browed  head  hanging  down,  with  the 
stake  in  his  chops,  glared  from  his  great  glassy  eyes  at  all 
that  throng  of  dogs  and  men  surrounding  him.  When  he  was 
touched,  he  would  draw  together  his  helpless  paws,  and  glare 
fiercely,  and  at  the  same  time  steadily,  at  them  all.  Count  Ilya 
Andreyitch  also  came  riding  up,  and  had  a  look  at  the  wolf. 

"  Oh,  rather  an  old  one,"  said  he.  "  Full  grown,  hey  ?  **  he 
asked  of  Danilo,  who  stood  near  him. 

"  Indeed  he  is,  your  illustriousness,"  replied  Danilo,  respect- 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  263 

fully  taking  off  his  cap.  The  connt  remembered  the  wolf  which 
had  got  past  him,  and  his  encounter  with  Danilo. 

"  Stilly  my  boy,  you  were  in  a  bad  temper,"  said  the  count. 

Danilo  made  no  reply,  and  merely  smiled  with  embarrass- 
ment —  a  childishly  sweet  and  pleasant  smile. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

The  old  count  rode  off  home.  Natasha  and  Petya  promised 
to  follow  immediately.  The  hunt  went  farther^  as  it  was  still 
early  in  the  day.  Toward  noon,  they  sent  the  hounds  into  a 
dell,  grown  up  with  a  dense  young  forest.  Nikolai,  taking  his 
position  on  the  hillside,  could  overlook  all  his  huntsmen. 

On  the  other  side  from  Nikolai  were  fields ;  and  there  his 
whipper-in  had  taken  his  post  alone,  in  a  pit  behind  a  hazel 
copse.  As  soon  as  the  dogs  were  slipped,  Nikolai  heard  the 
sharp  yelp  of  one  of  his  favorite  dogs  —  Voltorn ;  the  other 
hounds  also  gave  tongue,  now  ceasing,  and  then  again  taking 
up  the  cry.  In  a  minute,  from  the  forest,  the  cry  to  fox  was 
heard ;  and  the  whole  pack  rushed  off  pell-mell  toward  the 
open,  in  the  direction  of  the  field,  and  away  from  Nikolai. 

He  saw  the  dog-feeders,  in  their  red  caps,  dashing  off  along 
the  edge  of  the  overgrown  dell ;  he  saw,  also,  the  dogs,  and 
every  instant  he  expected  the  fox  to  show  himself  in  that  di- 
rection, on  the  field. 

The  huntsman  stationed  in  the  pit  gave  a  start,  and  let 
loose  the  dogs;  and  then  Nikolai  saw  a  strange-looking  red 
fox  crouching  down,  and  hurriedly  making  across  the  field,  with 
rumpled  brash.  The  dogs  began  to  close  in  upon  her.  Then, 
as  they  came  closer  to  her,  lo !  the  fox  began  to  dodge 
about  among  them,  in  circular  wise,  making  the  circles  ever 
shorter  and  shorter,  and  sweeping  her  furry  brush  (which 
the  hunters  call  tniba,  a  trumpet)  around  her ;  and  then,  lo ! 
one,  a  white  dog,  flies  at  her ;  and  this  one  is  followed  by  a 
black  dog ;  and  then  all  is  mingled  in  confusion,  and  the  dogs, 
as  they  stand,  scarcely  swerving,  make  a  sort  of  star,  all  their 
tails  pointing  outwards.  A  couple  of  huntsmen  gallop  up 
toward  the  dogs .  one  in  a  red  cap ;  the  other,  a  stranger,  in  a 
green  kaftan. 

"What  can  that  mean?''  queried  Nikolai.  "Where  did 
that  huntsman  come  from  ?  It's  not  one  of  'little  uncle's.' " 

The  men  despatched  the  fox,  and  stood  for  a  long  time,  with- 
out mounting  or  tying  her  to  the  straps.     Near  by,  with  pro- 


264  WAH  AHto  PEACE. 

iecting  saddles,  stood  their  horses,  which  they  held  by  the 
bridle  ;  and  the  dogs  threw  themselves  down.  The  huntsmen 
were  gesticulating  and  disputing  over  the  fox.  Then  there 
rang  out  the  sound  of  a  bugle ;  the  conventional  signal  of  a 
dispute. 

^'  That's  one  of  Ilagin's  hunters  ;  and  he's  quarrelling  with 
our  Ivan  about  something."  said  Nikolai's  whipper-in. 

Nikolai  sent  the  man  to  fetch  his  sister  and  Petya ;  and  they 
rode  slowly,  at  a  footpace,  to  the  place  where  the  dog-feeders 
had  collected  the  hounds.  Several  huntsmen  were  galloping 
up  to  the  scene  of  the  dispute. 

Nikolai  dismounted,  and  stood  near  the  hounds,  with  Natasha 
and  Petya,  who  had  now  come  up ;  and  waited  till  word  should 
be  brought  as  to  the  issue  of  the  dispute. 

Out  from  behind  the  skirt  of  the  forest  came  the  quarrel- 
some huntsman,  with  the  fox  at  his  saddle-straps,  and  galloped 
up  to  his  young  barin.  While  still  at  a  distance,  he  took  off 
his  cap,  and  tried  to  speak  respectfully  ;  but  he  was  pale  and 
out  of  breath,  and  his  face  was  distorted  with  rage.  One  of 
his  eyes  was  blacked ;  but  he  was  apparently  unconscious  of 
the  fact. 

"  What  was  the  matter  with  you  there  ?  "  asked  Nikolai. 

"  What  do  you  suppose  !  he  would  be  after  snatching  it  away 
from  among  our  hounds !  And  it  was  my  mouse-colored  bitchy 
too,  that  had  grabbed  her !  Come  now,  decide !  He  tried  to 
get  away  our  fox.  Now  I'll  have  a  whack  at  his  foxes.  Here 
she  is,  on  the  saddle-straps.  Or  would  you  like  a  taste  of 
this  ?  "  pointing  to  his  dagger,  and  evidently  imagining  that 
he  was  still  talking  with  his  enemy. 

Nikolai,  not  stopping  to  discuss  the  matter  with  the  hunts- 
man, told  his  sister  and  Petya  to  wait  for  him,  and  rode  off  to 
the  place  where  the  rival  hunt  of  the  Ilagins  was  collected. 

The  victorious  huntsman  joined  the  throng  of  whippers-in ; 
and  there,  surrounded  by  his  sympathetic  admirers,  he  related 
his  exploit. 

The  truth  of  the  matter  was  that  Ilagin,  with  whom  the  Kos- 
tofs  had,  in  days  gone  by,  had  some  disputes,  as  well  as  law- 
suits, was  hunting  in  places  usually  pre-empted  by  the  Ros- 
tofs ;  and,  on  this  occasion,  he  had  apparently  given  special 
orders  to  go  to  the  "  island "  where  the  Rostofs  were  hunt- 
ing, and  allowed  his  whipper-in  to  snatch  the  game  from  his 
rival's  dogs. 

Nikolai  had  never  seen  Ilagin ;  but,  as  was  always  the  oase, 
knowing  no  half-way  in  his  judgments  and  feelings,  and  believ- 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  266 

ing  certain  reports  of  the  violence  and  arbitrary  conduct  of 
this  proprietor,  he  hated  him  with  all  his  heart,  and  considered 
him  his  worst  enemy.  He  now  rode  up  to  him,  full  of  angry 
emotions,  and  firmly  grasping  his  long  whip,  ready  for  the 
most  decisive  and  risky  proceedings  against  his  enemy. 

He  had  just  ridden  up  to  a  jut  of  the  forest,  when  he  saw 
riding  in  his  direction  a  portly  gentleman,  in  a  beaver  cap, 
on  a  handsome  raven-black  steed,  and  accompanied  by  two 
huntsmen* 

Instead  of  an  enemy,  Nikolai  found  in  Ilagin  a  well-bred, 
representative  barin,  who  manifested  a  special  desire  to  make 
the  young  count's  acquaintance.  Riding  up  to  Kostof,  Ilagin 
raised  his  beaver  cap,  and  declared  that  he  was  very  sorry  for 
what  had  taken  place :  that  he  had  commanded  the  huntsman 
who  had  permitted  himself  to  trespass  on  another's  preserve 
to  be  punished.  He  craved  the  count's  acquaintance,  and  in- 
vited him  to  hunt  on  his  grounds. 

Natasha,  apprehensive  lest  her  brother  might  do  something 
terrible,  came  up  in  great  anxiety,  and  drew  up  at  a  little  dis- 
tance behind  him.  When  she  saw  that  the  rivals  were  greet* 
ing  each  other  with  friendly  courtesy,  she  joined  them.  Ilagin 
lifted  his  beaver  cap  still  higher  as  he  saw  Natasha ;  and  with 
a  pleasant  smile,  said  that  the  countess  resembled  Diana,  both 
by  her  passion  for  hunting  and  by  her  beauty,  of  which  he  had 
heard  many  reports. 

Ilagin,  in  order  to  smooth  over  his  huntsman's  indiscretion, 
pressingly  urged  Eostof  to  go  to  a  steep  hillside  of  his,  about 
a  verst  away,  which  he  kept  for  his  own  private  use,  and 
which,  on  his  word,  was  swarming  with  hares.  Nikolai  con- 
sented ;  and  the  hunting-party,  doubled  in  numbers,  swept  on 
their  way. 

In  order  to  reach  Ilagin's  preserve,  they  had  to  strike  across 
country.  The  huntsmen  made  common  cause.  The  gentle- 
men rode  together.  The  "  little  uncle,"  Bostof,  Ilagin,  each 
stealthily  examined  the  dogs  of  the  other,  striving  not  to  let 
the  others  remark  it,  and  anxiously  searched  for  possible 
rivals  among  the  dogs  of  the  others. 

Bostof  was  especially  struck  by  the  beauty  of  a  small 
thorough-bred  young  slut,  spotted  with  red,  and  rather  slen- 
der; with  muscles  like  steel;  with  a  delicate  little  muzzle, 
and  with  prominent  black  eyes.  She  belonged  to  Ilagin's  pack. 
He  had  heard  of  the  rarity  of  Ilagin's  dogs ;  and  in  this  pretty 
little  dog,  he  recognized  a  rival  to  his  Milka.  In  the  midst  of 
a  sedate  conversation,  about  the  crops  of  the  current  year,  which 


268  W^R  AND  PEACE. 

ing  chosen  his  course,  and  realized  his  danger,  he  laid  back  his 
ears,  and  was  off  like  the  wind.  Hie  form  had  been  in  the 
stubble ;  but  the  course  he  took  was  toward  the  meadow  lands, 
where  it  was  marshy.  Two  dogs,  answering  to  the  hunter  who 
had  discovered  him,  were  the  first  to  see  the  hare,  and  lay 
for  him ;  but  they  were  still  a  considerable  distance  behind 
when  Ilagin's  red-spotted  Yorza  outstripped  them,  came  with- 
in a  dog's  length  of  him,  sprang  upon  him  with  frightful 
violence,  snapped  at  the  hare's  tail,  and,  supposing  that  she 
had  him,  rolled  over  and  over. 

The  hare,  arching  his  back,  darted  off  at  a  sharper  pace  than 
ever.  Then  the  black-spotted  Milka,  broad  of  beam,  dashed 
in  front  of  Yorza,  and  began  swiftly  to  gain  on  the  hare. 

<'  Milushka !  mdtushka  —  little  mother ! " —  rang  out  Nik- 
olai's encouraging  shout.  It  seemed  as  though  Milka  were 
just  going  to  overtake  and  nip  the  hare,  but  she  went  too  far, 
and  went  beyond.  The  hare  had  stopped  short.  Again  the 
pretty  little  Yorza  came  to  the  fore  and  seemed  to  hang  over 
the  hare's  very  tail,  as  though  she  were  measuring  the  distance, 
so  as  not  to  be  deceived  again,  before  she  should  seize  him  by 
the  hind-leg. 

<<  Yorzanka !  —  sweet  little  sister ! "  rang  out  Ilagin's  voice, 
unnaturally,  and  as  though  choked  with  tears.  Yorza  heeded 
not  his  prayer :  at  the  very  instant  that  she  might  have  been 
expected  to  seize  her  game,  he  swerved  off  and  bowled  away 
along  the  ridge,  between  the  meadow  and  the  stubble.  Again 
Yorza  and  Milka,  like  two  little  pole-horses,  dashed  off  neck 
and  neck  after  the  game  ;  but  this  middle  ground  was  better  run- 
ning for  the  hare,  and  the  dogs  did  not  gain  on  him  so  rapidly. 

"  Rugai !  Kugaiushka !  here's  a  how-de-do ! "  cried  still  a 
thii'd  voice  at  this  instant ;  and  Eugai,  the  "  little  uncle's  " 
red,  crook-backed  hound,  stretching  out  and  doubling  up  his 
back,  was  seen  catching  up  with  the  two  other  hounds,  dash- 
ing beyond  them,  and  falling,  with  terrible  effort  of  self-denial, 
on  the  hare  itself.  He  flung  him  from  the  middle  ground 
into  the  meadow,  leaped  upon  him  even  more  fiercely  a  second 
time,  in  the  muddy  marsh,  into  which  he  sank  up  to  the  knees ; 
and  then  all  that  could  be  seen  was  that  he  rolled  over  and 
over  with  the  hare,  the  mud  staining  his  back. 

The  «  star  "  of  dogs  clustered  round  them.  In  a  minute,  the 
party  gathered  in  a  circle  around  the  clustering  dogs.  The 
"  little  uncle,"  radiantly  happy,  alone  dismounted,  and  cut  off 
the  hare's  hind-foot.  Shaking  the  hare,  so  that  the  blood 
would  drip  off,  he  looked  around  excitedly,  with  wandering 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  269 

eyes,  unable  to  keep  his  feet  and  hands  quiet;  and  spoke, 
not  knowing  what  he  said,  or  whom  he  addressed. 

"That's  the  kind  of  a  how-de-do!  That's  a  dog  for  you! 
Worth  all  of  your  thousand-ruble  hounds !  Here's  a  how-de- 
do  ! "  said  he,  all  out  of  breath,  and  fiercely  glancing  around^ 
as  though  he  were  berating  some  one :  as  though  all  of  them 
were  his  foes,  and  all  had  insulted  him,  and  now,  at  last,  he 
had  come  to  his  chance  for  getting  even  with  them.  "  Look 
at  your  thousand-ruble  dogs !  Here,  Rugai,  here's  the  foot ! " 
he  cried,  flinging  him  the  hare's  paw,  with  the  mud  still  cling- 
ing to  it :  "  You've  earned  it — here's  a  how-de-do ! " 

"  She'd  run  herself  all  out :  she  cornered  him  thrice,  all  by 
herself,"  said  Nikolai,  likewise  not  heeding  any  one,  and  not 
minding  whether  any  one  listened  to  him  or  not. 

"  That  was  a  great  way  ;  he  seized  him  by  the  back ! "  ex- 
claimed Ilagin's  groom. 

"  Yes,  when  she's  run  him  out,  of  course,  any  house-dog 
could  grip  him ! "  said  Ilagin  at  the  same  instant :  he  was 
flushed,  and  what  with  the  mad  gallop,  and  the  excitement, 
could  scarcely  draw  his  breath.  Natasha,  so  great  was  her  ex- 
citement and  enthusiasm,  also  was  screaming  at  the  top  of  her 
lungs,  and  so  shrilly  that  it  made  one's  ears  tingle.  With 
these  shrieks  of  delight,  she  expressed  what  all  the  other 
sportsmen  were  expressing  by  their  simultaneous  exclamations. 
And  these  shrieks  were  so  odd,  that  she  would  have  been  con- 
strained to  feel  ashamed  of  herself,  and  all  the  others  would 
have  been  amazed  at  it,  if  it  had  been  at  another  time. 

The  "  little  uncle  "  himself  doubled  up  the  hare  cleverly, 
and  boldly  laid  him  over  the  crupper  of  his  horse :  as  though, 
by  this  action,  he  were  defying  them  all,  and  mounted  his 
fallow  bay,  and  rode  away,  acting  as  though  he  had  no  wish 
to  speak  to  any  one. 

All  the  rest,  melancholy  and  disconsolate,  separated ;  and  it 
was  only  after  some  time  had  elapsed,  that  they  recovered 
their  former  state  of  affected  indifference.  For  some  time, 
still,  they  gazed  after  the  red,  humped-back  Bugai ;  who, 
all  spattered  with  mud,  rattling  his  chain,  trotted  after  the 
**  little  uncle's  "  horse,  with  the  supercilious  aspect  of  a  victor. 

"  You  see  I  am  like  all  the  rest  of  you,  as  long  as  there  is 
no  game  to  be  after.  Yes,  and  you  had  better  keep  aloof ! " 
was  what  the  aspect  of  this  dog  seemed  to  Nikolai  to  say. 

When,  after  some  time,  the  "  little  uncle "  rode  back  to 
Kikolai,  and  began  to  talk  with  him,  Nikolai  felt  flattered, 
that,  after  what  had  taken  place,  the  "  little  uncle  "  was  con- 
descending enough  to  \^  with  him ! 


270  WAR  AND  PEACE. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

When,  late  in  the  afternoon,  Ilagin  courteously  took  his 
departure,  Nikolai  found  that  they  were  so  far  from  home, 
that  he  was  glad  to  accept  the  '^little  uncle's "  proposition, 
that  their  hunting-party  should  spend  the  night  vX  his  little 
estate  of  Mikhailovko. 

"Now  if  you  should  come  to  my  place — here's  a  how- 
de-do!" —  said  the  "little  uncle,"  "it  would  be  the  best 
thing  you  could  desire :  you  see  the  weather  is  wet,"  added 
the  "little  uncle."  "You  could  get  rested;  and  the  little 
countess  can  be  driven  home, in  a  drozhsky." 

The  proposition  was  accepted;  a  huntsman  was  sent  to 
Otradnoye,  after  the  drozhsky,  while  Nikolai,  Natasha,  and 
Petya,  went  to  the  "  little  uncle's." 

Five  men,  big  and  little  —  the  "  little  uncle's  "  house  serfs — 
rushed  out  upon  the  front  doorsteps,  to  welcome  their  barin 
home.  A  dozen  women,  of  every  age  and  size,  thrust  their 
heads  out  of  the  back  porch  to  stare  at  the  approaching  caval- 
cade. 

The  appearance  of  Natasha —  a  woman,  a  bdruinya  — on 
horseback  aroused  their  curiosity  to  such  a  pitch,  that  several 
of  them,  undeterred  by  her  pi-esence,  approached  her,  made  a 
close  examination  of  everything  about  her,  and  made  their 
observations  freely  in  her  presence ;  as  though  she  were  some 
curiosity  on  exhibition,  and  not  a  human  being,  who  could 
hear  and  understand  what  they  said. 

"Arinka,  just  ye  look;  she  sits  sidewise!  Yes,  sidewise; 
and  her  skirt  dangles  !     And  see  her  horn ! " 

"  Holy  saints  preserve  us !  and  a  knife  too !  " 

"  She's  a  real  tatar ! " 

"  How  is  it,  you  do  not  get  thrown  off  ?  "  asked  the  most 
audacious  of  them,  turning  directly  to  Natasha. 

The  "little  uncle  "  dismounted  from  his  horse  at  the  door- 
steps of  his  small  country  residence,  which  was  built  in  the 
midst  of  an  overgrown  garden ;  and,  glancing  round  on  his 
domestics,  he  gave  an  imperative  order  for  the  supernumeraries 
to  clear  out,  and  for  everything  to  be  done  necessary  for  the 
reception  of  his  guests  and  the  hunting-train. 

There  was  a  general  scattering.  The  "  little  uncle  "  helped 
Natasha  to  dismount,  and?  giving  her  his  hand,  led  her  up 
the  precarious  deal  steps,    The  house,  which  was  not  plastereoi 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  271 

I 

and  showed  the  rough  timbers  of  the  walls,  was  not  remark- 
able for  its  cleanliness :  it  was  plain  to  see  that  the  in- 
mates did  not  consider  it  the  first  duty  of  life  to  remove  every 
trace  of  a  spot ;  but  there  was  no  noticeable  neglect.  The 
entry  was  filled  with  the  odor  of  fresh  apples,  and  hung  with 
the  skins  of  wolves  and  foxes. 

The  "  little  uncle  "  conducted  his  guests  through  the  ante- 
chamber into  a  small  music-room,  with  a  folding  table  and  red- 
painted  chairs ;  thence  into  the  drawing-room,  where  there  were 
a  round  pine  table  and  a  sofa;  and  finally  into  the  library, 
where  there  were  a  ragged  divan,  a  well-worn  carpet,  and  por- 
traits of  Suvorof,  of  the  proprietor's  father  and  mother,  and  of 
himself,  in  military  uniform.  The  library  smelt  strong  of 
tobacco  and  dogs. 

Here  the  "  little  uncle  "  begged  his  guests  to  be  seated  and 
make  themselves  quite  at  home,  and  he  left  them.  Rugai,  his 
back  still  covered  with  mud,  came  into  the  room,  lay  down  on 
the  divan,  and  began  to  clean  himself  with  tongue  and  teeth. 
From  the  library  led  a  corridor,  in  which  could  be  seen  a 
screen  with  its  hangings  full  of  rents;  beyond  the  screen 
were  heard  the  laughing  and  chatter  of  women. 

Natasha,  Nikolai,  and  Fetya  threw  off  their  wraps,  and  sat 
down  on  the  divan.  Petya  rested  his  head  on  his  arm,  and 
was  instantly  asleep.  Natasha  and  Nikolai  sat  in  silence. 
Their  faces  were  flushed ;  they  were  very  hungry,  and  in  very 
good  spirits.  They  exchanged  glances:  after  the  hunting 
was  over  and  they  were  in  the  house,  Nikolai  no  longer  con- 
sidered it  necessary  to  display  his  masculine  superiority  over 
his  sister.  Natasha  winked  at  her  brother ;  and  both,  after 
trying  to  restrain  themselves  for  a  moment,  burst  forth  in  a 
short  and  hearty  peal  of  laughter,  without  even  taking  time  to 
think  what  they  were  laughing  at. 

After  a  short  absence,  the  "  little  uncle  "  came  in,  dressed  in  a 
Cossack  coat,  blue  trousers,  and  short  boots.  And  Natasha  felt 
that  this  costume,  which,  to  her  amusement  and  amazement,  she 
had  seen  the  "little  uncle  "  wear  at  Otradnoye,  was  a  perfectly 
proper  costume,  in  no  respect  worse  than  frock-coat  or  swallow- 
tail. The  "  little  uncle  "  was  also  in  the  best  of  spirits :  he 
i  was  not  only  not  offended  by  the  brother's  and  sister's  merri- 
ment— it  never  entered  into  his  head  that  they  were  laugh- 
ing at  his  mode  of  life  —  but  he  even  joined  in  with  their 
apparently  causeless  laughter. 

"  Well,  the  little  countess  is  so  young  —  here's  a  how-de-do ! 
;         —  Never  saw  another  like  her ! "  he  exclaimed,  giving  Rostof 


272  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

a  long-stemmed  pipe,  and  waving  another  which  he  had  chosen 
for  himself  with  a  carved  short  stem,  between  his  three  fingers. 
'^  All  day  riding,  just  like  a  man,  and  as  though  it  were  quite 
the  ordinary  thing." 

Shortly  after  the  "  little  uncle ''  rejoined  them,  the  door  was 
opened  by  a  young  girl,  apparently  barefooted,  to  judge  by  the 
noiselessness  of  her  tread ;  and  in  came  a  portly,  ruddy-faced, 
handsome  woman  of  forty,  with  double  chin,  and  full  red  lips, 
bearing  in  her  hands  a  huge  tray  set  out  with  dishes.  With 
overpowering  hospitality,  dignity,  and  politeness  beaming  from 
her  eyes,  and  expressed  in  her  every  motion,  she  contemplated 
the  guests ;  and,  with  a  flattering  smile,  made  them  a  most  re- 
spectful courtesy.  In  spite  of  her  rather  unusual  ])ortliness, 
which  niiide  bosom  and  abdomen  unduly  prominent,  and 
caused  her  to  hold  her  head  very  high,  this  woman,  who  was 
the  "  little  uncle's  "  ekonomka  or  housekeeper,  moved  about 
with  amazing  agility.  She  walked  up  to  the  table,  set  down 
the  tray,  and  skilfully,  with  her  white,  plump  hands,  removed 
and  arranged  on  the  table  the  bottles  and  various  dishes  com- 
prising the  zakuska  or  lunch.  Having  done  this,  she  started 
away  and  stood  by  the  door,  with  a  smile  on  her  face. 

"  That  is  the  kind  of  a  woman  I  am  !  Kow,  do  you  under- 
stand the  '  little  uncle '  ? "  her  attitude  seemed  to  Rostof  to 
imply.  ^Tow  could  he  fail  to  understand  ?  Not  only  Rostof, 
but  even  Natasha  understood  the  "  little  uncle  "  and  the  mean- 
ing of  his  furrowed  brows,  and  the  happy,  self-satisfied  smile 
which  slightly  curved  his  lips  as  Anisya  Feodorovna  entered 
the  room.  On  the  tray  were  travnik  or  herb  brandy,  liqueurs, 
mushrooms,  wheat-flour  cakes  with  buttermilk,  fresh  honey- 
comb, mulled  wine  and  sparkling  mead,  apples,  raw  nuts, 
roasted  nuts,  and  nuts  cooked  in  honey.  Then  Anisya  Feodo- 
rovna brought  fruits  preserved  in  honey  and  sugar,  and  a  ham 
and  a  roast  fowl  just  from  the  fire. 

All  this  was  of  Anisya  Feodorovna's  own  preparation,  and 
selecting,  and  setting  forth.  All  this  was  redolent  of  Anisya 
Feodorovna,  and  had  the  mark  of  her  genius  and  taste.  All 
was  in  character  with  her  scrupulous  neatness,  and  cleanness, 
and  whiteness,  and  her  pleasant  smile. 

"  Have  a  bite  of  something  to  eat,  little  countess,"  she  in- 
sisted, handing  Natasha  first  one  thing  and  then  another. 
Natasha  partook  of  everything ;  and  it  seemed  to  her  that  she 
had  never  seen  and  never  tasted  such  buttermilk  cakes,  or 
mulled  wine  with  such  a  flavor  or  nuts  cooked  90  delioiously  in 
honey,  or  such  a  fowl ! 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  273 

Anisya  Feodorovna  went  out.  Rostof  and  the  "  little  uncle," 
while  sipping  their  glasses  of  cherry  liqueur,  talked  about 
hunting,  past  and  to  come ;  about  Rugai,  and  Ilagin's  dogs. 
Natasha,  with  shining  eyes,  sat  up  erect  on  the  divan,  and  lis- 
tened to  them.  Several  times  she  tried  to  rouse  Petya,  to 
have  something  to  eat ;  but  he  muttered  incoherent  words,  and 
was  evidently  too  sound  asleep.  Natasha  felt  so  happy,  she  so 
keenly  enjoyed  the  novel  surroundings,  that  her  only  fear  was 
that  the  drozhsky  would  come  for  her  too  soon.  After  one  of 
those  fortuitous  silences,  that  are  almost  inevitable  with 
people  who  for  the  first  time  entertain  their  friends  at  home, 
the  "  little  uncle,"  responding  to  a  thought  that  must  have 
occurred  to  his  guests,  remarked,  — 

"  And  this  is  the  way  I  shall  live  out  my  days.  You  die  — 
here's  a  how-de-do! — and  nothing  is  left.  So  what's  the 
sin?" 

The  "little  uncle's"  face  had  grown  very  grave,  and  even 
handsome,  as  he  made  this  remark.  Rostof  could  not  help 
thinking  of  the  pleasant  things  his  father  and  the  neighbors 
had  said  of  the  old  man.  The  "  little  uncle,"  throughout  the 
whole  government,  had  the  reputation  of  being  as  noble-hearted 
and  disinterested  as  he  was  eccentric.  He  was  often  called 
upon  to  act  as  arbiter  in  family  disputes,  he  was  chosen  execu- 
tor of  wills,  he  was  made  the  repository  of  secrets,  he  was 
elected  judge,  and  called  upon  to  fill  other  offices ;  but  he  stub- 
bornly refused  to  enter  active  service:  autumn  and  spring 
he  rode  about  the  country  on  his  fallow  bay  stallion ;  in  the 
winter  he  staid  at  home ;  in  the  summer  he  lounged  in  his 
overgrown  garden. 

"Why  don't  you  enter  the  service,  *  little  uncle'  ?  " 

"  I  have  served  and  I Ve  given  it  up.  It  is  no  use  —  here's 
a  how-de-do !  —  I  can't  make  anything  out  of  it.  It's  well 
enough  for  you  youngsters,  but  my  wits  could  never  grasp  it. 
But  hunting !  That's  quite  another  thing !  That's  the  how- 
de-do  !  Open  that  door,  there  ! "  he  cried.  "  What  did  you 
shut  it  for  ?  " 

The  door  at  the  end  of  the  corridor  —  which  the  "little 
uncle"  called  collidor — led  into  a  single  room  occupied  by  the 
hunting-train.  The  bare  feet  swiftlv  slithered  along,  and  an 
invisible  hand  pushed  the  door  open  into  the  "  hunters'  room," 
as  this  was  called.  The  sounds  of  the  balalaika,  or  Ukraine 
guitar,  were  clearly  heard  through  the  corridor;  some  one 
who  was  a  master-hand  at  playing  it  evidently  luid  hold  of 
the  instrument.  It  had  been  a  long  time  since  Natasha  had 
VOL.  2,  — 18. 


274  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

listened  to  these  sounds,  and  now  she  ran  out  into  the  corridor 
to  hear  more  distinctly. 

"  That  is  my  Mitka,  the  coachman.  I  bought  a  beautiful  hair 
ala'ika  for  him,  I'm  fond  of  it,"  said  the  "little  uncle."  After 
coming  back  from  his  courses,  the  "  little  uncle  "  was  in  the 
habit  of  summoning  Mitka  into  the  "  hunters'  room  "  to  play 
for  him.     The  "  little  uncle  "  liked  that  kind  of  music. 

"  How  good  it  is !  It's  excellent !  "  said  Nikolai,  with  a  slight 
trace  of  involuntary  scorn,  as  though  he  were  ashamed  of  hun- 
self  for  confessing  that  he  extremely  enjoyed  such  sounds. 

"  Excellent ! "  repeated  Natasha  reproachf  idly ;  she  was  con- 
scious of  tlie  tone  in  which  her  brother  spoke.  "  Excellent  does 
not  express  it :  it's  charming,  that's  what  it  is  ! " 

Just  as  the  "little  uncle's  "  pickled  mushrooms,  the  bydromel, 
and  the  liqueur  seemed  to  her  the  best  in  the  world,  so  also  did 
that  tune  on  the  halaZaika  seem  to  her,  at  that  moment,  the 
very  acme  of  all  musical  charm. 

"Again,  please,  again,"  cried  Natasha  at  the  door,  as  soon  as 
the  sounds  of  the  balalaika  had  ceased.  Mitka  tuned  the  in- 
strument, and  once  more  began  bravely  to  thrum  out  the  Bd- 
ruint/a,  or  "  The  High-born  Maid,"  with  a  clanging  of  strings 
and  grappling  of  chords.  The  "  little  uncle  "  sat  and  listened, 
inclining  his  head  to  one  side  with  an  almost  imperceptible 
smile.  The  theme  of  the  Bdruinya  was  repeated  a  hundred 
times.  Several  times  the  balalaika  had  to  be  tuned,  and  then 
once  more  the  same  sounds  trembled  forth ;  and  yet  the  lis- 
teners were  not  wearied,  and  wanted  to  hear  this  tune  over 
and  over  again.  Anisya  Feodorovna  came  in,  and  leaned  her 
portly  ftame  against  the  door-lintel. 

"  Be  kind  enough  to  listen  to  him,"  said  she  to  Natasha,  with 
a  smile  strikingly  like  the  "  little  uncle's."  "  He  plays  for  us 
gloriously  ! "  said  she. 

"That  part  is  not  done  right,"  suddenly  exclaimed  the  "lit- 
tle uncle,"  with  an  energetic  gesture.  "  It  needs  to  be  faster 
there  —  here's  a  how-de-do !  —  let  it  out !  " 

"  And  do  you  know  how  to  play  ?  "  asked  Natasha. 

The  "little  uncle"  smiled,  but  made  no  reply. 

"Just  you  look,  Anisyushya,  if  the  strings  are  all  on  my 
guitar  ?  I  have  not  had  it  in  my  hands  for  some  time — here's 
a  how-de-do ! " 

Anisya  Feodorovna  gladly  went  to  fulfil  her  lord  and  mas- 
ter's command,  and  soon  brought  the  guitar. 

The  "  little  uncle,"  not  looking  at  any  one,  blew  off  the  dust, 
rapped  with  his  bony  fingers  on  the  sounding-board  of  the  gui- 


WAR  AND  P^ACE,  276 

* 

tar,  tuned  the  strings,  and  straightened  himself  on  his  chair. 
He  grasped  the  guitar  above  the  finger-board,  with  a  somewhat 
theatrical  air,  pushing  back  his  left  elbow  j  and,  with  a  wink 
toward  Anisya  Feodorovna,  he  struck  up,  not  the  Bdruirit/a,  but 
a  prelude  of  one  clear,  ringing  chord ;  after  which  he  began  in 
a  steady  and  precise,  but  still  regularly  accentuated  tempo,  to 
improvise  variations  on  the  well-known  song,  "  On  the  pa-a-ve- 
ment  o^f  the  street." 

At  once  the  theme  of  the  song  began  to  sing  itself  rhythmi- 
cally in  the  hearts  of  both  Nikolai  and  Natasha,  with  that 
peculiar  sedate  cheerfulness  which  Anisya  Feodorovna^s  whole 
being  exhaled.  Anisya  Feodorovna  blushed,  and,  hiding  her 
face  in  her  handkerchief,  she  left  the  room  with  a  laugh.  The 
"  little  uncle  "  went  on  improvising  on  the  song  clearly,  care- 
fully, and  with  energetic  steadiness,  his  glance,  full  of  vary- 
ing inspiration,  fixed  on  the  spot  where  Anisya  Feodorovna 
had  been  standing.  There  was  a  barely  perceptible  some- 
thinly  betokening  amusement,  at  one  corner  of  his  mouth, 
under  his  gray  mustache;  and  this  look  intensified  as  the 
song  went  on,  or  as  the  accent  grew  more  pronounced,  and 
in  such  places  as  the  strings  almost  snapped  under  his  twang- 
ing fingers. 

"Charming!  charming,  'little  uncle!'  Some  more,  some 
more !  ^  cried  Natasha,  as  soon  as  he  came  to  a  pause.  Then, 
springing  up  from  her  seat,  she  threw  her  arms  around  the 
"  little  uncle,"  and  kissed  him. 

"  Nikolenka !  Nikolenka !  "  he  cried,  glancing  at  her  brother, 
and,  as  it  were,  asking  him  if  he  appreciated  it  all. 

Nikolai  also  was  greatly  delighted  with  the  performance. 
The  "  little  uncle  "  once  more  struck  a  tune.  Anisya  Feodo- 
Tovna's  smiling  face  again  appeared  in  the  doorway,  and  be- 
hind her  were  grouped  still  other  faces. 

"  At  the  crystal-flowing  fountain 
Cries  a  voice,  *  O  maiden,  wait!  *  '* 

was  the  tune  which  the  "little  uncle  "  played.  Then  he  made 
one  more  skilful  change  of  key,  broke  off,  and  shrugged  his 
shoulders. 

"  There,  there,  '  little  uncle  ! '  you  old  darling  ! "  *  murmured 
Natasha,  in  such  a  tone  of  entreaty  that  one  might  have  thought 
her  life  were  dependent  on  its  gratification.  The  "  little  un- 
cle "  stood  up,  and  as  thougli  there  were  two  men,  —  the  one 

•  Golubchik. 


276  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

smiling  a  grave  smile  at  the  merry  one,  while  the  merty  ond 
performed  a  naive  and  dignified  antic  in  anticipation  of  the 
plyaskaj  or  native  dance. 

"  Now,  then,  my  dear  niece,"  cried  the  "  little  uncle,"  waving 
his  hand  toward  Natasha,  after  striking  a  chord. 

Natasha  threw  otf  the  shawl  which  she  had  wrapped  around 
her,  glided  out  in  front  of  the  "  little  uncle,"  and  putting  her 
arms  akimbo,  made  a  motion  with  her  shoulders,  and  waited. 

Where,  how,  when,  had  this. little  countess,  educated  as  she 
had  been  by  a  French  emigree^  imbibed  the  Eussian  spirit 
from  the  very  atmosphere  which  she  had  breathed  ?  Where 
had  she  learned  all  those  characteristic  motions  which  the  pas 
de  chdle  might  long  ago  have  been  supposed  entirely  to  efface  ? 

But  the  spirit  and  the  motions  were  the  very  ones — inimita- 
ble, untaught,  intuitive,  thoroughly  Russian — which  the  '*  lit- 
tle uncle  "  expected  of  her.  The  moment  she  got  to  her  feet, 
with  an  enthusiastic,  proud,  and  shrewdly  gay  smile,  the  first 
tremor  of  fear  which  seized  Nikolai  and  all  the  other  specta- 
tors, —  the  fear  that  she  might  not  be  able  to  perform  it  cor- 
rectly,— passed  away,  and  gave  place  to  sheer  admiration. 

Her  performance  was  so  absolutely  perfect,  and  so  entirely 
what  was  expected  of  her,  that  Anisya  Feodorovna,  who  had 
immediately  handed  to  her  the  handkerchief  that  played  such 
an  indispensable  part  in  the  dance,  wept  and  laughed  at  once, 
as  she  gazed  at  that  slender,  graceful  countess,  from  another 
world  as  it  were,  educated  in  silks  and  velvets,  who  could  un- 
derstand all  that  was  in  herself  —  Anisya ;  in  Anisya's  father, 
Feodor ;  and  in  her  aunt,  and  in  her  mother,  and  in  the  whole 
Russian  people. 

"  Well,  little  countess  —  here's  ^  how-de-do  ! "  exclaimed 
the  "  little  uncle,"  with  a  radiant  smile,  when  the  plyaska  was 
finished.  "  Well  done,  niece !  Now,  all  we  need  is  to  pick 
you  out  a  fine  young  husband  —  here's  a  how-de-do ! " 

"  Already  picked  out,"  said  Nikolai,  smiling. 

"  Oho  ! "  exclaimed  the  "  little  uncle,"  in  surprise,  with  a 
questioning  look  at  Natasha.  Natasha,  with  a  smile  of  pleas- 
ure, nodded  her  head  in  assent. 

"  And  he's  such  a  fine  one  ! "  said  she.  But  the  moment 
these  words  had  escaped  her  lips,  a  new  train  of  thoughts  and 
feeling  arose  in  her  mind:  what  signified  Nikolai's  smile  when 
he  said,  "  Already  picked  out "  ?  "  Is  he  glad,  or  sorry  ?  Pos- 
sibly he  thinks  that  my  Bolkonsky  would  not  approve,  would 
not  understand,  this  gayety  of  ours.  No,  he  certainly  would 
not  understand  it  all.    Where  is  he  now,  I  wonder  ? "  said 


WAn  AND  PEACE.  277 

Natasha  to  herself,  and  her  face  grew  suddenly  grave.  But  it 
lasted  only  a  single  second.  "You  must  not  think  about  it, 
you  must  not  dare  to  think  about  it,"  said  she  to  herself ;  and, 
with  her  face  wreathed  in  smiles,  she  again  sat  down  beside 
the  "  little  uncle,"  and  urged  him  to  play  something  more. 

The  "  little  uncle  "  played  still  another  song  and  valse  ;  then, 
after  a  short  silence,  he  cleared  his  throat,  and  struck  up  his 
favorite  hunting-song,  — 

''  Kak  80  vetchera  poroska 
Vuipadala  khoroska,^*  * 

The  "  little  unjcle  "  sang  as  the  peasant,  as  the  people,  sings, 
with  that  full  and  naive  conviction  that  the  whole  meaning  is 
to  be  found  exclusively  in  the  words ;  that  the  tune  will  go  of 
itself,  and  that  there  is  no  special  air,  or  that  the  air  is  merely 
for  harmony's  sake.  The  result  was  that  this  singing  of 
the  "  little  uncle's,"  so  completely  free  from  self-consciousness, 
like  the  songs  of  the  birds,  was  particularly  charming.  Na- 
tasha was  in  raptures  over  his  singing.  She  determined  that 
she  would  not  take  any  more  lessons  on  the  harp,  but  would 
henceforth  play  only  on  the  guitar.  She  asked  the  "little 
uncle  "  to  let  her  take  the  instrument,  and  immediately  began 
to  pick  out  chords  for  singing. 

About  ten  o'clock  a  lineika,  or  long,  low  carriage,  and  a 
drozhsky  came  for  Natasha  and  Petya,  and  three  mounted 
men,  who  had  been  sent  to  find  them.  The  count  and 
countess  did  not  know  what  had  become  of  them,  and,  as  the 
messenger  reported,  were  in  a  great  state  of  agitation. 

Petya  was  picked  up  and  deposited  in  the  lineika,  like  a 
dead  body;  Natasha  and  Nikolai  took  their  places  in  the 
drozhsky.  The  "little  uncle"  muffled  Natasha  all  up,  and 
bade  her  farewell  with  a  new  and  peculiar  touch  of  affection. 
He  accompanied  them  on  foot  as  far  as  the  bridge,  which  they 
had  to  abandon  for  the  ford,  and  he  commanded  his  hunters  to 
precede  them  with  lanterns. 

"  Grood-by,  prashchdiy  —  my  dear  niece,"  rang  his  voice  from 
out  the  darkness  —  not  the  one  which  Natasha  had  known 
hitherto,  but  the  one  that  had  sung,  "  As  the  evening  sun  sank 
low." 

The  windows  in  the  village  through  which  they  passed 
gleamed  with  ruddy  lights,  and  there  was  a  cheerful  odor  of 
smoke. 

*  '*  As  the  ^veninj;  sun  sank  low 

FeU  the  white  and  beauteous  snow.'' 


r 


278  WAk  ANb  PEACE, 

^'  How  charming  the  '  little  uncle '  is !  "  exclaimed  Natasha, 
as  they  bowled  along  the  highway. 

"  Yes,"  said  Nikolai.     "  You  are  not  cold,  are  you  ?  " 

"No,  I'm  comfortable,  perfectly  comfortable.  Oh,  Fm  so 
happy ! ''  replied  Natasha,  with  a  sense  of  perplexity.  They 
rode  for  a  long  time  in  silence. 

The  night  was  dark  and  damp.  They  could  not  even  see 
the  horses :  they  could  only  hear  them  splashing  through  the 
unseen  mud-puddles. 

What  was  going  on  in  that  child's  impressionable  mind, 
which  was  so  quick  to  catch  and  retain  the  most  varied  expe- 
riences of  life  ?  How  was  it  possible  to  stow  them  all  away 
in  it?  But  she  Avas  very  happy. ^  As  they  drew  near  the 
house,  she  suddenly  struck  up  the  song,  "  As  the  evening  sun 
sank  low,"  the  tune  of  which  she  had  been  trying  all  the  way 
to  catch,  and  at  last  succeeded  in  remembering. 

"You've  caught  it,  have  you ? "  said  Nikolai. 

"What  were  you  thinking  about  just  now,  Nikolenka?" 
asked  Natasha.  They  were  fond  of  asking  each  other  this 
question. 

"  I  ?  "  exclaimed  Nikolai,  trying  to  recollect ;  "  let  me  see ! 
At  first,  I  was  thinking  that  Rugai,  the  red  hound,  was  like 
the  '  little  uncle ; '  and  that,  if  he  had  been  a  man,  he  would 
keep  the  '  little  uncle  '  about  him  all  the  time :  if  not  for  hunt- 
ing, at  least  for  his  music ;  at  all  events,  I  would  have  kept 
him.  What  a  musician  the  4ittle  uncle'  is!  Isn't  he?  — 
Well,  and  what  were  your  thoughts  ?  " 

"  Mine  ?  Wait !  wait !  At  first,  I  was  thinking  how  we 
were  riding  here,  and  that  we  supposed  we  were  on  our  way 
home ;  whereas,  in  reality,  it  is  so  dark  that  God  only  knows 
where  we  are  going ;  and  we  might  suddenly  discover  that  we 
were  not  at  Otradnoye  at  all,  but  in  some  fairy  realm !  And 
then  I  was  thinking  —  no,  there  was  nothing  else ! " 

"I  know!  you  certainly  were  thinking  about  A,im,"  said 
Nikolai,  smiling,  as  Natasha  knew  by  the  tone  of  his  voice. 

"No,"  replied  Natasha,  though  in  reality  she  had  been 
thinking  about  Prince  Andrei,  and  wondering  how  he  would 
have  liked  the  "  little  uncle."  "  And  there's  one  thing  I  have 
been  repeating  and  repeating  all  the  way,"  said  Natasha, 
"  and  that  is,  '  How  superbly  Anisyushka  marched  about ! ' " 
And  Nikolai  heard  her  clear,  merry  laugh,  so  easily  excited  by 
trifles.  "  But  do  you  know,"  she  suddenly  added,  "  I  am  cer- 
tain that  I  shall  never,  never  again  be  bo  happy,  so  free  from 
care  as  I  am  now  ?  " 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  279 

"  What  rubbish,  nonsenSe,  trumpery  talk  !  "  exclaimed  Nik- 
olai ;  and  he  thought  in  his  own  mind,  "  How  charming  this 
Natasha  of  mine  is !  I  shall  never  find  another  friend  like 
her !  Why  should  she  think  of  getting  married  ?  We  might 
travel  all  over  the  world  together !  " 

"  How  charming  this  dear  Nikolai  is  ! "  thought  Natasha. 
"Ah!  there's  a  light  in  the  drawing-room  still,"  said  she, 
pointing  to  the  windows  of  the  mansion,  cheerfully  shining 
out  into  the  moist,  velvety  darkness  of  the  night. 


CHAP'FER  VIII. 

Count  Ilta  Andrbyitch  had  resigned  his  position  as 
predvodityelf  or  marshal  of  the  district  nobility,  because  this 
office  entailed  too  great  expenses.  But  still  his  finances 
showed  no  improvement. 

Often  Natasha  and  Nikolai  found  their  parents  engaged  in 
secret,  anxious  consultation ;  and  they  heard  rumors  about  the 
sale  of  the  ms^nificent  ancestral  home  of  the  Eostofs,  and 
their  pod-Moskovnaya  estate.  Now  that  he  was  relieved  from 
this  office,  it  was  not  necessary  for  them  to  entertain  so  exten- 
sively, and  life  at  Otradnoye  went  on  more  quietly  than  in 
former  years ;  but  the  huge  mansion,  and  the  wings,  were  just 
as  full  of  servants  as  ever,  and  more  than  twenty  persons 
habitually  sat  down  at  table.  And  all  these  were  the  regular 
household,  who  lived  there,  practically  members  of  the  family; 
or  those  who  were  obliged,  for  some  reason  or  other,  to  live  at 
the  count's  expense.  Such,  for  instance,  were  Dimmler,  the 
music-master,  and  his  wife;  Vogel,  the  dancing-master,  and 
his  whole  family ;  then,  an  elderly  lady  of  quality,*  named 
Bielova,  who  had  her  home  there ;  and  many  others  of  the  same 
sort :  Petya's  tutors  and  governors,  the  young  ladies'  former 
"  guvemantka,"  and  men  and  women  who  simply  found  it 
better,  or  more  to  their  advantage,  to  live  at  the  count's  than 
at  home. 

They  had  not  quite  as  much  company  as  formerly ;  but  the 
scale  of  living  was  practically  the  same,  for  the  count  and  the 
countess  found  it  impossible  to  accommodate  themselves  to 
any  other. 

The  hunting  establishment  was  the  same,  nay,  it  had  even 
been  increased  bjr  Nikolai ;  there  were  still  fifty  horses  and 
fifteen  coachmen  m  the  stables ;  rich  gifts  on  name-days  were 

•  Bdruinya, 


280  WAk  AND  PEACE. 

still  gi^ren,  and  formal  dinners,  at  Yhich  all  the  neighborhood 
were  invited ;  the  count  still  had  his  whist  and  Boston  parties, 
at  which,  as  he  held  his  cards  spread  out  so  that  every  one  could 
see  them,  his  neighbors  were  enabled  to  go  away  enriched  to 
the  extent  of  several  hundred  rubles,  every  day :  having  come 
to  regard  it  as  an  especial  prerogative  of  theirs  to  make  up  a 
table  at  which  Count  Il3'a  Andreyitch  should  serve  as  their 
chief  source  of  income. 

The  count  marched  along  through  the  monstrous  tangle  of 
his  affairs,  striving  not  to  believe  that  he  was  so  involved,  and 
at  every  step  involving  himself  more  and  more ;  and  feeling 
conscious  that  he  had  not  the  strength  to  rend  the  bonds  that 
beset  his  feet,  or  the  zeal  and  patience  required  to  unravel 
them. 

The  countess,  with  her  loving  heart,  was  conscious  that  their 
fortunes  were  going  to  rack  and  ruin ;  but  she  felt  that  the 
count  was  blameless ;  that  he  could  not  help  being  what  he 
was  ;  that  he  himself  was  suffering,  —  though  he  tried  to  con- 
ceal it, — from  the  consciousness  of  the  ruin  that  faced  himself 
and  his  family,  and  was  striving  to  devise  means  of  rescue. 

From  her  woman's  point  of  view,  the  only  means  that  pre- 
sented itself  was  to  get  Nikolai  married  to  a  wealthy  heiress. 

She  felt  that  this  was  their  last  hope ;  and  that  if  Nikolai 
refused  a  certain  match,  which  she  proposed  to  arrange  for 
him,  it  would  be  necessary  to  bid  a  final  farewell  to  every  hope 
of  restoring  their  fortunes.  This  match  was  with  Julie  Kara- 
gina,  the  daughter  of  a  most  worthy  and  virtuous  father  and 
mother ;  a  girl  whom  the  Rostofs  had  known  since  she  was  a 
child,  and  who  had  lately  come  into  a  large  fortune,  by  the 
fortuitous  death  of  the  last  of  her  brothers. 

The  countess  had  written  directly  to  Madame  Karagina,  in 
Moscow,  proposing  a  marriage  between  daughter  and  son ;  and 
she  had  received  a  most  favorable  response.  E^aragina  replied 
that  she,  for  her  part,  was  agreed;  but  that  everything 
depended  on  her  daughter's  inclinations.  Karagina  invited 
Nikolai  to  come  to  Moscow. 

Several  times  the  countess,  with  tears  in  her  eyes,  told  her 
son  that  now,  since  both  of  her  daughters  were  provided  for, 
her  sole  desire  was  to  see  him  married.  She  declared  that  she 
would  go  to  her  grave  contented,  if  this  might  be.  Then  she 
said  that  she  happened  to  know  of  a  very  lovely  young  girl ; 
and  she  wanted  to  know  his  ideas  upon  the  subject. 

On  other  occasions,  she  openly  praised  Julie,  and  advised 
Nikolai  to  go  to  Moscow  and  have  a  good  time  during  the 


WAR  AND  PS  ACE.  281 

Christmas  holidays.  Nikolai  was  sharp  enough  to  understand 
his  mother's  covert  hints ;  and,  during  one  of  their  talks,  he 
managed  to  draw  her  out  completely. 

She  told  him  that  their  whole  hope  of  bringing  their  affairs 
into  order  was  in  seeing  him  married  to  the  Karagina. 

"  But  what  if  I  loved  a  girl  who  was  poor,  mamany  would 
you  insist  upon  my  sacrificing  my  feelings  and  honor,  for 
money  ?^^  he  asked,  not  realizing  the  harshness  of  his 
question,  and  simply  desiring  to  show  his  noble  feelings. 

<<No,  you  don't  understand  me,"  said  his  mother,  not  know- 
ing how  to  set  herself  straight.  '^You  misunderstood  me, 
entirely,  Nikolinka.  All  I  desire  is  your  happiness,"  she 
added ;  and  she  had  the  consciousness  that  she  had  not  spoken 
the  truth ;  that  she  was  getting  beyond  her  depth.  She  burst 
into  tears. 

''  Mamenka !  don't  cry ;  simply  tell  me  that  this  is  your  real 
wish,  and  you  know  that  I  would  give  my  whole  life  —  every- 
thing that  I  have  —  to  make  you  happy,"  said  Nikolai.  "  I 
would  sacrifice  everything  for  you,  even  my  dearest  wishes." 

But  the  countess  had  no  desire  to  offer  the  dilemma :  she  had 
no  wish  to  demand  a  sacrifice  from  her  son ;  she  would  have 
preferred  herself  to  be  the  one  who  should  make  the  sacri- 
fice. 

"  No,  no,  you  have  not  understood  me ;  we  won't  say  any- 
thing more  about  it,"  said  she,  wiping  away  her  tears. 

''  Yes,  perhaps  it  is  true,  that  I  am  in  love  with  a  penniless 
girl,"  said  Nikolai  to  himself.  "  Why  should  I  sacrifice  my 
sentiments  and  my  honor,  for  the  sake  of  wealth !  I  am  amazed, 
that  mdmenka  should  say  such  a  thing  to  me  !  Is  there  any 
reason,  because  Sonya  is  poor,  that  I  should  not  love  her  ?  " 
he  asked  himself.  "  Can  I  return  her  true,  generous  love  ? 
And,  most  certainly,  I  should  be  much  happier  with  her,  than 
with  such  a  doll  as  Julie !  I  can  always  sacrifice  my  feel- 
ings for  my  parents'  good,"  said  he  to  himself.  '^  But  to  com- 
mand my  feelings  is  beyond  my  power.  If  I  love  Sonya,  then 
my  feeling  is  more  powerful,  and  rules  everything  for  me." 

Nikolai  did  not  go  to  Moscow.  The  countess  did  not  again 
revert  to  her  conversation  with  him  about  his  marriage ;  but 
it  was  with  pain,  and  even  with  indignation,  that  she  saw  the 
signs  of  a  constantly  growing  intimacy  between  her  son  and 
the  dowerless  Sonya.  She  reproached  herself,  but  she  found 
it  impossible  to  resist  heaping  worriments  upon  Sonya,  and 
finding  fault  with  her:  oftentimes  stopping  her  short,  and 
addressing  her  with  the  formal  vuij  you,  and  <'  moya  milaya^^ 


282  WAk  AND  P^ACE. 

instead  of  by  tbe  nsnal  tenderer  epithets.  What  annoyed  the 
worthy  countess  most  of  all  was  that  this  poor,  dark-eyed  niece 
of  hers  was  so  sweet,  so  gentle,  so  humbly  grateful  for  all  her 
kindnesses ;  and  so  genuinely,  unchangeably,  and  self-sacrifi- 
cingly  in  lo^e  with  Nikolai,  that  it  was  impossible  to  find  any- 
thing really  to  blame  her  for. 

Nikolai  staid  at  home,  waiting  till  his  leave  of  absenee 
should  expire. 

•  A  letter  was  received  about  this  time  from  Natasha's  lover, 
Prince  Andrei,  dated  at  Rome :  it  was  his  fourth.  In  it,  he 
wrote  that  he  should  long  ere  that  have  been  on  the  way  home 
to  Russia,  had  it  not  been  that  the  warmth  of  the  climate  had 
unexpectedly  caused  his  wound  to  re-open,  which  obliged  him 
to  postpone  his  journey  till  the  beginning  of  the  next  year. 

Natasha  was  deeply  in  love  with  her  "bridegroom:"  her 
character  had  been  greatly  modified  by  this  love;  at  the 
same  time,  her  nature  was  thoroughly  open  to  all  the  joys  of 
life ;  but  toward  the  end  of  the  fourth  month  of  their  separa- 
tion, she  began  to  suffer  from  attacks  of  melancholy,  which 
she  found  it  impossible  to  resist.  She  was  sick  to  death  of 
herself:  she  grieved  because  all  this  time  was  slipping  away 
so  uselessly ;  while  she  felt  that  she  was  only  too  reisuly  to 
love  and  to  be  loved. 

It  was  far  from  cheerful  at  the  Rostofs'. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

The  Christmas  holidays  had  come,  and  except  for  the  High 
Mass,  except  for  the  formal  and  perfunctory  congratulations 
of  the  neighbors  and  the  household  servants,  except  for  the 
new  dresses  that  everybody  had  on,  there  was  nothing  that 
especially  signalized  the  season :  though  the  perfectly  still  at- 
mosphere, with  the  thermometer  at  twenty  degrees  *  below 
zero,  the  sun  shining  dazzlingly  all  day  long,  and  at  night  the 
wintry  sky  glittering  with  myriads  of  stars,  seemed  to  imply 
that  nature  at  least  gave  special  distinction  to  the  Christmas- 
tide. 

After  dinner  on  the  third  day  of  the  Christmas  holidays,  all 
the  household  had  scattered  to  their  respective  rooms.  It  was 
the  most  tedious  time  of  the  day.  Nikolai,  who  had  been  out 
in  the  morning,  making  calls  on  the  neighbors,  was  asleep  in 
the  divan-room.     The  old  count  was  resting  in  his  library. 

*  Reaumur. 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  288 

Sonya  was  sitting  at  the  centre-table  in  the  drawing-room 
copying  some  designs.  The  countess  was  laying  out  her 
game  of  patience.  Nastasya  Ivanovna,  the  buffoon  with  a  woe- 
begone countenance,  was  sitting  at  the  window  with  two  old 
ladies. 

Natasha  came  into  the  room,  and  went  directly  up  to  Sonya, 
looked  at  what  she  was  doing,  then  stepped  across  to  her 
mother  and  stood  by  her  without  saying  a  word. 

"  Why  are  you  wandering  about  like  a  homeless  spirit  ?  " 
asked  her  mother.     "  What  do  you  want  ?  " 

"  I  want  hiniy  instantly !  this  very  minute !  I  want  Am," 
said  Natasha,  with  gleaming  eyes,  but  without  a  trace  of  a 
smile. 

The  countess  raised  her  head  and  gave  her  daughter  a  steady 
look. 

''Don't  look  at  me  so!  Don't  look  at  me,  mamma;  I  shall 
cry  if  you  do ! " 

"  Sit  down,  sit  down  with  me  here,"  said  the  countess. 

''Mamma,  I  must  have  him.  Why  am  I  perishing  so, 
mamma  ? "  Her  voice  broke ;  the  tears  started  to  her  eyes, 
and  in  order  to  hide  them  she  quickly  turned  away  and  left 
the  room. 

She  went  into  the  divan-room,  stood  there  a  moment  lost  in 
thought,  and  went  to  the  maids'  sitting-room.  There,  an 
eldeny  chambermaid  was  scolding  a  young  girl,  who  had  just 
come  in  from  out  of  doors  all  out  of  breath. 

"  You  might  play  some  other  time,"  the  old  servant  was  say- 
ing.    "There  is  a  time  for  all  things." 

"Let  her  be,  Kondratyevna,"  said  Natasha  "Run,  Mav- 
rusha,  run." 

And  having  rescued  Mavrusha,  Natasha  went  through  the 
ballroom  into  the  anteroom.  An  old  man  and  two  young 
lackeys  were  playing  cards.  They  stopped  their  game,  and 
respectfully  stood  up  as  their  young  mistress  came  in. 

"  What  shall  I  have  them  do  ?  "  wondered  Natasha.  "Yes, 
Nikita,  please  go — where  shall  I  send  him  ?  oh,  yes, — go  into 
the  barnyard  and  fetch  me  a  cock ;  yes,  and  you,  Misha,  bring 
me  some  oats." 

"Do  you  wish  a  few  oats  ?  "  asked  Misha,  with  joyous  readi- 
ness. 

"  Go,  go,  make  haste,"  said  the  old  man  imperiously. 

"  And  you,  Feodor,  get  me  a  piece  of  chalk." 

As  she  went  past  the  butler's  pantry,  she  ordered  the  sam- 
ovar to  be  got  ready,  although  it  was  not  anywhere  near  the 
time  for  it. 


284  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

Foka,  the  hufetchik  or  butler,  was  the  most  morose  man  of 
all  the  household.  Natasha  took  it  into  her  head  to  try  her 
power  over  him.  He  suspected  that  she  was  not  in  earnest, 
and  began  to  ask  her  if  she  meant  it. 

"  Oh,  what  a  baruishnya  she  is ! "  said  Foka,  pretending  to  be 
very  cross  at  Natasha. 

No  one  in  the  house  set  so  many  feet  flying,  and  no  one 
gave  the  servants  so  much  to  do,  as  Natasha.  She  could  not 
have  any  peace  of  mind  if  she  saw  servants,  unless  she  sent 
them  on  some  errand.  It  seemed  as  if  she  were  making 
experiments  whether  she  would  not  meet  with  angry  answers 
or  with  grumbling,  on  the  part  of  some  of  them,  but  the  ser- 
vants obeyed  no  one  else  so  willingly  as  Natasha. 

"  Now,  what  shall  I  do  ?  Where  shall  I  go  ?  "  pondered  the 
young  countess,  as  she  slowly  passed  along  the  corridor. 

"Nastasya  Ivanovna,  what  sort  of  children  shall  I  have?" 
she  demanded  of  the  buffoon,  who,  dressed  in  his  woman's  short 
jacket,  was  coming  towards  her. 

"  Oh,  you  will  have  fleas,  dragon-flies,  and  grasshoppers ! " 
replied  the  buffoon. 

**  My  Grod !  my  God !  it's  this  everlasting  sameness !  What 
shall  I  do  with  myself  ?  Where  can  I  find  something  to  do?" 
and,  swiftly  kicking  her  heels  together,  she  ran  upstairs  to 
the  quarters  occupied  by  Vogel  and  his  wife.  Two  governesses 
were  sitting  in  the  Vogels'  room ;  on  the  table  stood  plates 
with  raisins,  walnuts,  and  almonds.  The  governesses  were 
discussing  the  question  whether  it  were  cheaper  to  live  in 
Moscow  or  Odessa. 

Natasha  sat  down,  listened  to  their  conversation  with  a 
grave,  thoughtful  face,  and  then  stood  up. 

"The  Island  of  Madagascar !"  she  exclaimed.  '^Mardargas- 
car,"  she  repeated,  laying  a  special  emphasis  on  each  syllable ; 
and  then,  without  replying  to  Madame  Schoss's  question  what 
she  said,  she  hastened  from  the  room. 

Petya,  her  brother,  was  also  upstairs ;  he  and  his  tutor  were 
arranging  for  some  fireworks  which  they  were  going  to  set  off 
that  night. 

"Petya!  Petya!"  she  cried  to  him.  "Carry  me  down- 
stairs 1 " 

Petya  ran  to  her  and  bent  his  back.  She  jumped  upon  it, 
threw  her  arms  around  his  neck,  and  he,  with  a  hop,  skip,  and 
jump,  started  to  iiui  down  with  her. 

"  No,  thank  you !  that  will  do !  The  Island  of  Madagas- 
car ! "  she  repeated,  and  jumping  off,  she  flew  downstairs. 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  285 

Having  made  the  toiir  of  her  dominions,  as  it  were,  having 
made  trial  of  her  power  of  command,  and  discovered  that  all 
were  sufficiently  obedient,  but  that  everything  was  neverthe- 
less utterly  stupid,  Natasha  went  into  the  ballroom,  sat  down 
in  a  dark  comer  behind  a  chiffonier^  and  began  to  thrum  the 
bass  strings  of  her  guitar,  practising  a  theme  which  she  re- 
membered from  an  opera  she  had  heard  at  Petersburg  in  com- 
pany with  Prince  Andrei. 

If  any  one  from  outside  had  been  listening  to  her,  it  would 
have  struck  him  that  there  was  something  lacking  in  the  har- 
monies that  she  managed  to  produce  on  her  guitar.  But  in 
her  imagination  these  sounds  aroused  from  the  dead  past  a 
whole  series  of  recollections.  As  she  sat  in  the  shadow  of  the 
chiffonier,  with  her  eyes  fixed  on  the  pencil  of  light  that 
streamed  from  the  door  of  the  butler's  pantry,  she  listened  to 
herself,  and  indulged  in  day-dreams.  She  was  in  the  mood  for 
day-dreaming. 

Sonya,  with  a  wineglass  in.  her  hand,  passed  through  the 
ballroom  on  her  way  to  the  butler's  pantry.  Natasha  looked 
at  her,  at  the  bright  chink  in  the  door ;  and  it  seemed  to  her  that 
on  some  occasion,  long  before,  she  had  seen  the  light  streaming 
through  the  chink  in  the  pantry  door,  and  Sonya  crossing  the 
room  with  a  glass. 

"  Yes,  and  it  was  exactly  the  same ! "  said  Natasha  to  her- 
self. "  What  is  this  tune,  Sonya  ?  "  cried  Natasha,  moving  her 
fingers  over  the  bass  strings. 

"  Ah !  Are  you  here  ?  "  cried  Sonya,  startled  at  first,  and 
then  stopping  to  listen.  "I  don't  know.  Isn't  it '  The  Storm '?  " 
she  suggested  timidly,  for  fear  that  she  was  mistaken. 

"  Now,  there  !  she  gave  a  start  in  exactly  the  same  way,  she 
came  up  to  me  in  exactly  the  same  way,  and  her  face  wore  the 
same  timid  smile  when  that  took  place,*'  thought  Natasha. 
"  And  in  just  the  same  way  I  felt  that  there  was  something 
lacking  in  her.  —  No !  that  is  the  chorus  from  the  *  Water  Car- 
rier,' *  don't  you  remember  ?  "  And  Natasha  hummed  the  air 
over  to  recall  it  to  Sonya's  memory.  '^  Where  were  you  going  ?  " 
asked  Natasha. 

'^  To  change  the  water  in  this  glass.  I  am  just  copying  a 
sketch." 

"You  are  always  busy;  and  here  am  I,  not  good  for  any- 
thing," said  Natasha.     "  Where  is  Nikolai  ?  " 

"  Asleep,  I  think ! " 


*  The  Peasants'  Ghoras,  3d  Act  of  Chenibini's  Opera  "  Les  Devx  JounUe^ 
(known  »l0O  in  Germany  as  '*  Der  Was^ertrager  "),  produced  18W« 


» 


286  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

'^Sonja,  do  go  and  wake  him  up/'  urged  Natasha.  ''Tell 
him  that  I  want  him  to  sing." 

She  remained  sitting  there,  and  wondering  why  it  was  that 
this  had  happened  so ;  but  as  it  did  not  disturb  her  very  much 
that  she  was  not  able  to  solve  this  question,  she  once  more 
relapsed  into  her  recollections  of  the  time  when  she  was  with 
kim,  and  he  looked  %t  her  with  loving  eyes. 

"  Akh !  I  wish  he  would  come  !  I  am  so  afraid  that  he  won't 
come !  But,  worst  of  all,  I'm  growing  old !  that's  a  fact !  Soon  I 
shall  not  be  what  I  am  even  now  !  But,  maybe,  he  will  come 
to-day.  Maybe,  he  is  here  now.  Maybe,  he  has  come,  and  even 
now  is  sitting  in  the  drawing-room.  Maybe,  he  came  yesterday, 
and  I  have  forgotten  about  it." 

She  got  up,  laid  down  the  guitar,  and  went  into  the  drawing- 
room.  All  the  household  —  tutors,  governesses,  and  guests  — 
were  already  gathered  near  the  tea-table.  The  men  were  stand- 
ing around  the  table ;  but  Prince  Andrei  was  not  among  them, 
and  everything  was  as  usual. 

"  Ah !  there  she  is,"  said  Count  Hya  Audrey  itch,  as  he  saw 
Natasha.     "  Come  here  and  sit  by  me ! " 

But  Natasha  remained  standing  near  her  mother,  looking^ 
around  as  though  she  were  in  search  of  some  one. 

"  Mamma ! "  she  murmured.  "  Give  him  back  to  me,  mamma, 
quick,  quick ! "  and  again  she  found  it  hard  to  keep  from 
sobbing. 

She  sat  down  by  the  table,  and  listened  to  the  conversation 
of  her  elders,  and  of  Nikolai,  who  had  also  come  in  late  to  the 
tea-table. 

"  My  God !  my  God !  the  same  faces,  the  same  small-talk ! 
even  papa  holds  his  cup  and  cools  it  with  his  breath  just  as  he 
always  does ! "  said  Natasha,  to  her  horror  feeling  a  dislike 
rising  in  her  against  all  the  household  because  they  were 
always  the  same. 

After  tea,  Nikolai,  Sonya,  and  Natasha  went  into  the  divan- 
room,  to  their  favorite  corner,  where  they  always  held  their  most 
confidential  conversations. 


CHAPTER  X. 

"Has  it  ever  happened  to  you,"  asked  Natasha  of  her 
brother,  when  they  were  comfortably  settled  in  the  divan- 
room,  "  has  it  ever  happened  to  you  that  it  seemed  as  though 
there  were  nothing,  just  nothing  at  all,  left  in  the  future  for 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  287 

you  ?  that  all  that  was  best  was  past,  and  that  you  were  not 
so  much  bored  as  disgusted?" 

"  Haven't  I,  indeed !  Many  a  time,  when  everything  was 
going  well,  and  all  were  gay,  it  would  come  into  my  head  that 
it  was  all  vanity  and  vexation  of  spirit,  and  that  all  of  us  would 
have  to  die.  Once,  at  the  regiment,  I  did  not  go  out  to  prom- 
enade, though  the  band  was  playing,  for  everything  had  sud- 
denly become  so  gloomy  "  — 

"  Akh !  I  know  what  you  mean !  I  know !  I  know ! "  inter- 
posed Natasha.  "  When  I  was  a  tiny  bit  of  a  girl,  it  used  to 
be  that  way  with  me.  Do  you  remember  I  was  punished  once, 
on  account  of  those  plums,  and  you  were  all  dancing,  while  I 
had  to  sit  alone  in  the  class-room,  and  sobbed  ?  I  shall  never 
forget  how  melancholy  I  felt,  and  how  vexed  with  you  all  and 
with  myself !  Oh,  yes,  vexed  with  you  all !  all  of  you  !  And 
the  worst  of  it  was,  I  was  not  to  blame,"  said  Natasha ;  ^^  do 
you  remember  ?  " 

"  I  remember,"  replied  Nikolai ;  "  and  I  remember  that  I 
went  to  you  and  wanted  to  comfort  you ;  and,  do  you  know,  I 
was  ashamed  to  do  it !  We  were  terribly  absurd !  I  had  at 
that  time  a  kind  of  a  toy,  like  a  manikin,  and  I  wanted  to 
give  it  to  you  !    Do  you  remember  ?  " 

"  And  do  you  remember,"  asked  Natasha,  with  a  thoughtful 
smile,  **  how,  once,  long,  long  time  ago,  when  we  were  little 
tots,  uncle  took  us  into  the  library,  —  that  was  in  the  old  house 
and  it  was  dark, —  and  when  we  went  in,  suddenly  there  stood 
before  us  "  — 

"  A  negro  ! "  said  Nikolai,  taking  the  word  from  her  mouth, 
and  laughing  merrily.  "  Of  course  I  remember  it !  And  now 
I  can't  tell  for  the  life  of  me  that  it  was  a  negro,  or  whether 
we  saw  it  in  a  dream,  or  whether  it  was  something  that  we 
were  told ! " 

"  He  was  gray,  you  remember,  and  had  white  teeth,  and  he 
stood  and  stared  at  us  "  — 

"  Do  you  remember  it,  Sonya  ?  "  asked  Nikolai. 

"Yes,  I  have  a  dim  recollection  of  something  about  it," 
timidly  replied  the  young  girl, 

"  I  have  asked  both  papa  and  mamma  about  that  negro,"  said 
Natasha.  "  They  declare  that  no  negro  was  ever  here.  But 
you  see  you  remember  about  it ! " 

"Certainly  I  do !  And  now  I  recall  his  teeth  very  distinctly." 

"  How  strange !    Just  as  though  it  were  in  a  dream  !    I  like 
it ! " 
*  "And  do  you  remember  bow  we  were  rolling  eggs  in  the 


288  WAR  AND  PEACE, 

music-room,  and  suddenly  two  little  old  women  appeared,  and 
began  to  whirl  round  on  the  carpet.  That  was  so,  wasn't  it  ? 
Do  you  remember  how  fine  it  was  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  and  do  you  remember  how  p^penka,  in  a  blue  shuba, 
used  to  fire  off  his  musket  from  the  doorsteps  ?  " 

Thus,  smiling  with  delight,  they  took  turns  in  calling  up,  not 
the  reminiscences  of  a  gloomy  old  age,  but  the  recollections  of 
the  poetic  days  of  youth ;  impressions  from  the  most  distant 
past,  dreams  fused  and  confused  with  reality ;  and  these  happy 
recollections  sometimes  made  them  quietly  laugh. 

Sonya,  as  usual,  sat  at  a  little  distance  fi-om  the  other  two, 
though  their  recollections  were  not  confined  to  themselves  alone. 
Sonya  did  not  remember  much  of  what  the  others  did,  and  what 
came  back  to  her  failed  to  arouse  in  her  that  poetic  feeling 
which  they  experienced.  She  simply  rejoiced  in  their  enjoy- 
ment, and  jtried  to  take  a  part  in  it. 

She  began  to  feel  a  special  interest  in  these  reminiscences 
only  when  they  came  to  speak  of  her  first  coming  to  their 
house.  Sonya  was  telling  how  afraid  she  was  of  Nikolai,  be- 
cause he  wore  braid  on  his  jacket ;  and  her  nurse  told  her  that 
they  were  going  to  sew  her  up  in  braid. 

**  And  I  remember  they  told  me  that  you  w^ere  bom  under  a 
cabbage,"  said  Natasha.  "  And  I  remember,  also,  that  I  did 
not  dare  to  disbelieve  it,  though  I  knew  that  it  was  a  fib,  and 
so  I  felt  uncomfortable." 

At  this  stage  of  the  conversation,  a  chambermaid  thrust 
her  head  into  the  divan-room,  at  the  rear  door,  and  said,  in  a 
whisper,  — 

"Baruishnya,  they  have  brought  the  cock." 

"I  don't  want  it,  Polya,  now;  tell  them  to  carry  it  away 
again." 

While  they  were  still  engaged  in  talking,  Dimmler  came  into 
the  divan-room,  and  went  to  the  harp  that  stood  in  one  comer. 
As  he  took  off  the  covering,  the  harp  gave  forth  a  discordant 
sound. 

"Eduard  Karluitch,  please  play  my  favorite  nocturne — that 
one  by  Monsieur  Field,"*  cried  the  old  countess  from  the 
drawing-room. 

Dimmler  struck  a  chord,  and,  turning  to  Natasha,  Nikolai, 
and  Sonya,  said,  "Young  people,  how  quiet  you  are  sitting  !" 

"  Yes,  we  are  talking  philosophy,"  said  Natasha^  looking  up 

•  John  Field,  known  as  "  Ruasian  Field,"  bom  in  Dablin;  pupil  of  de- 
menti ;  went  from  Paris  to  Germany;  from  Germany  to  Ruasia;  where  fate 
died  m  January,  1837. 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  289 

for  an  instant,  and  then  pursuing  the  conrersation.    It  now 
turned  upon  dreams. 

Dimmler  began  to  play.  Natasha  noiselessly  went  on  her 
tiptoes  to  the  table,  took  the  candle,  and  carried  it  out; 
then  she  came  back  and  sat  down  quietly  in  her  place. 

In  the  room,  especially  that  part  where  the  divan  was  on 
which  they  were  sitting,  it  was  dark,  but  through  the  lofty 
windows  the  silver  light  of  the  full  moon  fell  across  the  floor. 

'^Do  you  know,  I  think,"  said  Natasha,  drawing  closer  to 
Nikolai  and  Sonya,  when  Dimmler  had  now  finished  his  noc- 
turne, and  sat  lightly  thrumming  the  strings,  apparently  un- 
certain whether  to  cease,  or  to  play  something  else,  —  "I  think 
that  when  you  go  back,  remembering,  and  remembering,  and 
remembering  everything,  you  remember  so  far  back,  that  at 
last  you  remember  what  happened  even  before  you  were  born 
—  at  least  I  do." 

"  That  is  metempsychosis,"  exclaimed  Sonya,  who  always  had 
been  distinguished  for  her  scholarship  and  her  good  memory. 
"  The  Egyptians  used  to  believe  that  our  souls  once  inhabited 
the  bodies  of  animals,  and  will  go  into  animals  again." 

"  Ah,  but  do  you  know,  I  don't  believe  that  we  were  ever  in 
animals,"  remarked  Natasha,  in  the  same  low  voice,  though 
the  music  had  ceased.  ''  But  I  know  for  certain  that  we  used 
to  be  angels  in  that  other  world ;  and,  when  we  come  here,  we 
remember  about  it." 

"  May  I  join  you  ?  "  asked  Dimmler,  coming  up  noiselessly, 
and  taking  a  seat  near  them. 

"  If  we  were  angels,  then  why  have  we  fallen  lower  ?  " 
suggested  Nikolai.     "  No,  that  can't  be ! " 

"  Who  told  you  that  we  are  lower  than  the  angels  ?  Because 
I  know  what  I  used  to  be,"  objected  Natasha,  with  conviction. 
"  You  see  the  soul  is  immortal.  It  must  be,  if  I  am  going  to 
live  always,  that  I  lived  before,  lived  a  whole  eternity." 

"  Yes,  but  it  is  hard  for  us  to  realize  what  eternity  is,"  re- 
marked Dimmler,  who,  when  he  had  joined  the  group  of  young 
people  had  worn  a  slightly  scornful  smile,  but  now  spoke  in 
as  low  and  serious  a  tone  as  the  rest. 

"  Why  is  it  hard  to  realize  eternity  ?  "  demanded  Natasha. 
'^  After  to-day  comes  to-morrow,  and  then  the  next  day,  and  so 
on  forever ;  and,  in  the  same  way,  yesterday  was,  and  then  the 
day  before,  and  so  on." 

"Natasha !  now  it  is  your  turn.  Sing  me  something ! "  said 
the  countess's  voice.  "Why  are  you  all  sitting  there,  like 
conspirators  ?  " 

VOL.2.— 19, 


290  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

"  Mamma !  I  don't  feel  like  it/'  said  Natasha ;  bat^  never- 
theless, she  got  up. 

Not  one  of  them,  not  even  Dimmler,  who  was  no  longer 
young,  wanted  to  break  off  the  conversation,  and  leave  tiie 
comer;  but  Natasha  had  arisen,  and  Nikolai  took  his  place  at 
the  harpsichord.  Natasha,  as  usual,  going  to  the  centre  of  the 
music-room,  and,  choosing  the  place  where  her  voice  sounded 
best,  began  to  sing  her  mother's  favorite  piece. 

She  had  said  that  she  did  not  feel  like  singing ;  but  it  was 
long  since  she  had  sung  as  she  sang  that  evening,  and  long 
before  she  sang  so  well  again.  Count  Ilya  Andreyitch  listened 
to  it  from  his  librai-y,  where  he  was  closeted  with  Mitenka ; 
and,  like  a  schoolboy  in  haste  to  go  out  to  play  as  soon  as  his 
lessons  are  doue,  he  stumbled  over  his  words  as  he  gave  his 
instructions  to  his  overseer,  and  finally  stopped  speaking ; 
while  Mitenka,  also  with  ears  attent,  stood  silently,  in  front 
of  the  count. 

Nikolai  did  not  take  his  eyes  from  his  sister,  and  even 
breathed  when  she  did.  Sonya,  as  she  listened,  thought  what 
a  wide  gulf  there  was  between  her  and  her  friend,  and  how 
impossible  it  would  be  to  find  any  one  in  the  world  so  bewitch- 
ingly  charming  as  her  cousin.  The  old  countess,  with  a  smile 
of  melancholy  pleasure,  and  with  tears  in  her  eyes,  sat  occasion- 
ally shaking  her  head.  She  was  thinking  of  Natasha,  and  of 
her  own  youthful  days ;  and  of  that  unnatural  and  terrible 
element  that  seemed  to  enter  into  this  engagement  of  her 
daughter  with  Prince  Andrei. 

Dimmler,  taking  his  seat  next  the  countess,  and  covering  his 
eyes,  listened. 

"No,  countess,"  said  he,  finally,  "this  talent  of  hers  is 
European ;  she  has  nothing  to  learn ;  such  smoothness,  sympar 
thetic  quality,  power  "  — 

"Akh!  How  I  tremble  for  her;  how  worried  I  am! "  said 
the  countess,  not  realizing  to  whom  she  was  speaking.  Her 
maternal  instinct  told  her  that  Natasha  had  more  in  her  than 
ordinary  girls,  and  that  this  would  result  in  unhappiness  for 
her. 

Natasha  had  not  quite  finished  her  singing,  when  fourteen- 
year-old  Petya,  all  excitement,  came  running  into  the  room 
with  the  news  that  some  maskers  had  come. 

Natasha  abruptly  stopped. 

"  Durak  !  idiot ! "  she  cried  to  her  brother,  and,  running  to 
a  chair,  flung  herself  into  it,  and  sobbed  so  that  it  was  long 
before  she  could  recover  herself. 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  291 

"If 8  nothing,  mdmenka;  truly  it's  nothing:  it  was  only 
Petya  startled  me/'  said  she,  striving  to  smile ;  but  her  tears 
still  flowed^  and  her  throat  was  choked  by  her  repressed 
sobs. 

The  house  servants,  who  had  dressed  themselves  up  as  bears, 
Turks,  tavern-keepers,  fine  ladies,  monsters,  and  ogres,  bring- 
ing in  with  them  the  outside  cold  and  hilarity,  at  first  shyly 
clustered  together  in  the  anteroom ;  but  gradually,  hiding  one 
behind  the  other,  they  ventured  into  the  ballroom ;  and  at  first, 
timidly,  but  afterwards  with  ever-increasing  fervor  and  zeal, 
began  to  perform  songs,  dances,  and  khorovodsy  and  other 
Cluistmas  games. 

The  countess,  after  she  had  recognized  them,  and  indulged 
in  a  hearty  laugh  at  their  antics,  retired  into  the  drawing-room. 
Count  Ilya  Andre3ritch,  with  a  radiant  smile,  took  his  seat  in 
the  ballroom,  with  approving  glances  at  the  masqueraders. 
Meantime,  all  the  young  folks  had  mysteriously  disappeared. 

Within  half  an  hour,  the  other  masqueraders  in  the  ball- 
room were  joined  by  an  elderly  baruinya,  in  farthingale,  and 
this  was  Kikolai ;  by  a  Turkish  woman,  and  this  was  Petya ; 
by  a  clown  — this  was  Dimmler ;  by  a  hussar  —  Natasha ;  and 
by  a  Circassian  youth  —  Sonya ;  both  the  girls  had  dark  eye- 
brows and  mustaches,  contrived  with  the  help  of  burnt  cork. 

After  well-feigned  surprise,  and  pretended  lack  of  recogni- 
tion, as  well  as  praise  from  those  who  were  not  mumming,  the 
young  people  decided  that  their  costumes  were  too  good  to  be 
wasted,  and  that  it  was  incumbent  upon  them  to  go  and  ex- 
hibit them  elsewhere. 

Nikolai,  who  had  a  strong  desire  for  a  troika  ride,  the  roads 
being  in  splendid  condition,  proposed  that  they  should  take 
with  them  the  ten  house  serfs,  who  were  disguised,  and  that 
all  should  go  and  visit  the  "  little  uncle." 

"  No,  he  is  an  old  man ;  and  you  will  merely  disturb  him," 
expostulated  the  countess.  "Why  !  you  couldn't  all  get  into 
his  house !  If  you  must  go  somewhere,  then  go  to  the  Melyu- 
kofs'." 

Melyukova  was  a  widow,  who,  with  a  host  of  children  of 
various  ages,  and  with  tutors  and  governesses,  lived  about  four 
versts  from  the  Rostofs. 

"There!  ma  chere,  a  good  idea!"  cried  the  old  count, becom- 
ing greatly  excited.  "  Wait  till  I  can  get  into  a  costume  and 
I  will  go  with  you.    I  tell  you  we  will  wake  Pasheta*  up  ! " 

But  the  countess  was  not  at  all  inclined  to  let  the  old  count 

*Diminatiye  of  Pelagaya. 


292  y^ATt  AND  PEACE. 

go ;  since,  for  several  days,  his  leg  bad  been  troubling  him.  It 
was  therefore  decided  that  it  was  not  best  for  Ilja  Andreyitch 
to  go ;  but  that  if  Luiza  Ivanovna,  that  is  to  say,  Madame 
Schoss,  would  act  as  chaperone,  then  the  young  ladies  might 
also  go  to  Melyukova's. 

Sonya,  though  generally  very  timid  and  shy,  now  was  more 
urgent  than  all  the  others  in  her  entreaties  to  Luiza  Ivanovna 
not  to  leave  them  in  the  lurch. 

Sonya's  costume  was  the  best  of  all.  Her  mustache  and 
dark  brows  were  extremely  becoming  to  her.  All  assured  her 
that  she  was  very  handsome,  and  she  was  keyed  up  to  a  state 
of  energy  and  excitement  quite  out  of  her  usual  manner. 
Some  inner  voice  told  her  that  now  or  never  her  fate  was  to  be 
decided ;  and  now,  in  her  masculine  garb,  she  seemed  like 
another  person.  Luiza  Ivanovna  consented ;  ami  in  less  than 
half  an  hour,  four  troikas,  with  jingling  bells,  on  shaft  arch* 
and  harness  swept,  creaking  and  crunching  over  the  frosty 
snow,  up  to  the  front  steps. 

Natasha  was  the  first  to  catch  the  tone  of  Christmas  festiv- 
ity, and  this  jollity  was  perfectly  infectious,  growing  more  and 
more  noisy,  and  reaching  the  hignest  pitch  as  they  all  came  out 
into  the  frosty  air,  and  with  shouting  and  calling,  and  laugh- 
ing and  screaming,  took  their  places  in  the  sledges. 

Two  of  the  three  spans  were  unmatched ;  the  third  troika 
belonged  to  the  old  count,  with  a  racer  of  the  Orlof  breed  be- 
tween the  thills;  the  fourth  was  Nikolai's  own  private  troika 
with  a  low,  shaggy,  black  shaft-horse.  Nikolai,  in  his  old- 
maid's  costume,  over  which  he  threw  his  hussar's  riding-cloak 
fastened  with  a  belt,  took  his  place  in  the  middle  of  his  sledge, 
and  gathered  up  the  reins.  It  was  so  light  that  he  could  see 
the  metal  of  the  harness-plates  shining  in  the  moonbeams, 
and  the  horses'  eyes,  as  they  turned  them  anxiouslv  toward 
the  merry  group  gathered  under  the  dark  roof  of  the  porte- 
cochere. 

In  Nikolai's  sledge  were  packed  Natasha,  Sonya,  Madame 
Schoss,  and  two  of  the  maid-servants;  in  the  old  count's 
went  Dimmler,  with  his  wife  and  Petya ;  in  the  others,  the 
rest  of  the  household  serfs  were  disposed. 

"You  lead  the  way,  Zakhar!  "  cried  Nikolai,  to  his  father^a 
coachman ;  he  wished  to  have  the  chance  to  "  beat "  him  on 
the  road. 

The  old  count's  troika,  with  Dimmler  and  the  other  masquer- 
aders,  creaked  as  though  its  runners  were  frozen  to  the  snow ; 

•  CaUed  dugd. 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  298 

and^  with  a  jingling  of  its  deep-toned  bell,  started  forward. 
The  side  horses  twitched  at  the  shafts,  and  kicked  up  the 
sugar-like  gleaming  crystals  of  the  snow. 

Nikolai  followed  Zakhar ;  behind  them,  with  a  creaking  and 
crunching,  came  the  others.  At  first  they  went  rather  gingerly 
along  the  narrow  driveway.  As  they  passed  the  park  the 
shadows  cast  by  the  bare  trees  lay  across  the  road  and  check- 
ered the  moonlight ;  but  as  soon  as  they  got  beyond  the  park 
enclosure,  the  snowy  expanse — gleaming  like  diamonds,  with 
a  deep  blue  phosphorescence,  all  drenched  in  moonlight,  and 
motionless  —  opened  out  before  them  in  every  direction. 

All  at  once,  the  foremost  sledge  dipped  into  a  cradle-hole  ; 
in  exactly  the  same  way  the  one  behind  it  went  down  and 
came  up  again,  and  then  the  next  behind ;  and  then,  boldly 
breaking  the  iron-bound  silence,  the  sledges  began  to  speed 
along  the  road  one  after  the  other. 

"  There  is  a  hare  track !  Ever  so  many  of  them ! "  rang 
Natasha's  voice  through  the  frost-bound  air, 

"  How  light  it  is,  Nicolas ! "  said  Sonya's  voice. 

Nikolai  glanced  round,  and  bent  over  so  as  to  get  a  closer 
look  into  her  face.  The  pretty  face,  with  an  odd  and  entirely 
new  expression,  caused  by  the  black  brows  and  mustache, 
glanced  up  at  him  from  under  the  sables. 

"That  used  to  be  Sonya,"  said  Nikolai  to  himself.  He  gave 
her  a  closer  look  and  smiled. 

"  What  is  the  matter,  Nicolas  ?  " 

"  Nothing,"  said  he,  and  he  again  gave  his  attention  to  his 
horses. 

Having  now  reached  the  hard-trodden  high-road,  stretching 
away  in  the  moonlight,  and  polished  smooth  by  numberless 
runners,  and  all  hacked  up  by  the  tracks  of  horse-shoe  nails,  the 
horses  of  their  own  accord  began  to  pull  on  the  reins,  and  in- 
crease their  speed.  The  off-horse,  tossing  his  head,  galloped 
along,  twitching  on  his  traces.  The  shaft-horse  shook  out  into 
a  trot,  laying  back  his  ears  as  though  asking,  "  Shall  we  begin, 
or  is  it  too  early  as  yet  ?  " 

Zakhar's  troika,  already  a  considerable  distance  ahead,  the 
jingle  of  its  deep-toned  bell  growing  more  and  more  distant, 
could  be  seen,  like  a  black  patch  against  the  whiteness  of  the 
snow.  Shouts  and  laughter,  and  the  voices  of  the  party  in 
the  distance,  could  be  plainly  heard. 

"  Now  then,  my  darlings ! "  cried  Nikolai,  giving  a  firm  rein 
with  one  hand,  and  raising  his  hand  with  the  knout.  And 
only  by  the  increase  of  the  wind  that  blew  in  their  faces,  and 


294  WAR  AND  PEACE, 

by  the  straining  of  the  side  horses,  which  kept  springing  and 
galloping  faster  and  more  fiiriouslV;  could  it  be  told  at  what  a 
pace  the  troika  was  flying.  Nikolai  glanced  back.  With 
shoats  and  whistling,  with  cracking  of  whips,  and  encoura- 
ging words  to  the  horses,  followed  the  other  troika  at  a  flying 
pace.  The  back  of  the  shaft-horse  rose  and  fell  steaidily 
under  the  curved  duffd,  but  with  no  thought  of  breaking,  and 
ready  to  give  more  and  ever  more  speed,  if  it  were  required 
of  him. 

Nikolai  now  overtook  the  first  troika.  They  glided  down  a 
little  slope,  and  came  out  upon  a  road  wide  enough  for  several 
teams  to  drive  abreast^  stretching  along  the  intervale  by  the 
river  side. 

"Where  will  this  take  us,  I  wonder?"  queried  Nikolai. 
"This  must  be  the  sloping  intervale.  But  no,  it  is  a  place  I 
don't  recognize  at  all !  I  never  saw  it  before !  It  is  neither 
the  sloping  intervale  nor  the  Dyomkin  hill ;  God  only  knows 
where  we  are.  It  is  certainly  some  new  and  enchanted  place  ! 
Well,  what  difference  does  it  make  to  us  ?  "  And,  shouting  at 
his  horses,  he  began  to  gain  on  the  first  trodca.  Zakhar  held 
his  team  to  their  work  and  turned  round  his  face,  white  with 
frost  even  to  the  eyebrows. 

Nikolai  gave  his  horses  rein ;  Zakhar,  reaching  out  his  arms, 
clucked  his  tongue,  and  also  gave  his  free  rein. 

"  Now,  steady  there,  barin ! "  cried  he. 

Still  swifter  flew  the  two  trotkas,  side  by  side ;  and  swiftly 
the  legs  of  the  horses  interwove  as  onward  they  sped. 

Nikolai  began  gradually  to  forge  ahead.  Zakhar,  not  chan- 
ging the  position  of  his  outstretched  arms,  kept  the  hand  that 
held  the  reins  a  little  higher. 

"  You  can't  come  it,  barin ! "  he  cried  to  Nikolai.  Nikolai 
urged  all  three  of  his  horses  to  gallop,  and  sped  past  Zakhar. 
The  horses  kicked  the  fine  dry  snow  into  the  faces  of  the 
party ;  the  bells  jingled  together  as  they  flew  op,  side  by  side ; 
and  the  swiftly  moving  legs  of  the  horses  mingled  together, 
while  the  shadows  crossed  and  interlaced  upon  the  snow. 
The  runners  whizzed  along  the  road,  and  the  shouts  and  cries 
of  the  women  were  heard  in  each  of  the  sledges. 

Once  more  reining  in  his  horses,  Nikolai  glanced  around 
him.  Everywhere  was  the  same  magical  expanse,  flooded  deep 
with  the  moonbeams,  and  with  millions  of  stars  scattered 
over  it. 

"Zakhar  is  shouting,  'turn  to  the  left;'  but  why  to  the 
left  ?  "  queried  Nikolai.    "  Aren't  we  going  to  the  Melyukofs'  ? 


WAR  AND  P:EACE.  296 

Is  this  the  way  to  Melyukovka  ?  God  knows  where  we  are 
going,  and  God  knows  what  is  going  to  become  of  us,  and  it  is 
very  strange  and  very  pleasant,  whatever  becomes  of  us." 

He  looked  down  into  the  sledge. 

"  Oh,  see  there !  his  mustache  and  eyelashes  are  all  white," 
said  one  of  the  handsome  young  strangers,  with  delicate  mus- 
taches and  eyebrows,  who  sat  in  the  sledge. 

"  That,  I  think,  must  have  been  Natasha,"  said  Nikolai  to 
himself,  "and  that  other  is  Madame  Schoss;  and,  perhaps  I 
am  wrong,  but  that  Circassian  with  the  mustache  I  never  saw 
before,  but  I  love  her  all  the  same  I " 

"You  aren't  cold,  are  you?"  he  asked.  They  gave  no 
other  answer  than  a  merry  laugh.  Dimmler  was  shouting 
something  from  the  hindmost  sledge  ;  it  was  probably  funny, 
but  he  could  not  make  out  what  it  was.  "  Yes,  yes,"  replied 
other  voices,  with  a  burst  of  laughter. 

"  And  now  here  is  a  sort  of  enchanted  forest,  with  black 
shadows  interlacing,  and  the  gleams  of  diamonds,  and  some- 
thing like  an  amphilade  of  marble  steps  ;  and  there  are  the 
silver  roofs  of  an  enchanted  castle,  and  the  piercing  yells  of 
wild  beasts.  —  But  supposing  after  all  it  were  Melyukovka, 
then  it  would  be  still  more  wonderful  that  we  should  have 
gone,  God  knows  how,  and  still  haVe  come  out  at  Melyukovka ! " 
said  Nikolai  to  himself. 

In  point  of  fact  it  was  Melyukovka,  and  maids  and  lackeys 
began  to  appear  on  the  doorsteps  of  the  entrance,  with  torches, 
and  happy  faces. 

"  Who  is  it  ?  "  asked  some  one  from  the  front  door. 

"  Masqueraders  from  the  Count's,  I  can  tell  by  the 
horses,"  replied  various  voices.  • 


CHAPTER  XI. 

Pelaoata  Dantlovna  Melyukova,  a  very  stout  and  ener- 
getic woman  in  spectacles,  and  wearing  a  loose-flowing  capote, 
was  sitting  in  the  drawing-room,  surrounded  by  her  daughters, 
whom  she  was  doing  her  best  to  entertain.  They  were  quietly 
moulding  wax,  and  looking  at  the  shadows  cast  by  retreating 
figures,  when  the  steps  and  voices  of  the  visitors  began  to 
echo  through  the  anteroom. 

Hussars,  high-bom  ladies,  witches,  clowns,  bears,  coughing 
and  wiping  their  frost-bound  faces,  came  into  the  ballroom, 
where  the  candelabras  were  hastily  lighted.    The  clown  — 


296  WAR'AND  PEACE. 

that  is,  Dimmler,  with  the  hdruinj/a,  that  is,  Nikolai,  opened 
the  dance.  Surrounded  by  gleefully  shouting  children,  the 
masqueraders,  hiding  their  faces  and  disguising  their  voiceSy 
made  low  bows  before  the  mistress  of  the  mansion,  and  then 
scattered  through  the  room. 

<'  Akh !  it's  impossible  to  tell !  Ah,  that's  Natasha !  Just 
see  whom  she  looks  like !  Truly  she  reminds  me  of  some 
one!  And  there's  Eduard  Karluitch!  How  elegant!  I 
shouldn't  have  known  you.  Akh !  how  elegantly  he  dances ! 
Akh  !  Saints  preserve  us !  and  who  is  that  Circassian  ?  Indeed, 
it  reminds  me  of  Sonyushka.  And  who  is  that  ?  Well,  well ! 
this  is  a  kindness !  Move  out  the  tables,  Nikita,  Vanya.  And 
we  have  been  sitting  here  so  solemnly." 

"Ha!  ha!  ha!"  — "What'a  hussar!"  "What  a  hussar!" 
"Just  like  a  boy,  and  what  legs."  —  "  I  can't  look  at  you!" — 
such  were  the  remarks  on  every  side. 

Natasha,  who  was  a  great  favorite  with  the  young  Melyu- 
kofs,  disappeared  with  them  into  some  distant  room,  where 
a  burnt  cork  and  dressing-gowns  and  various  articles  of 
masculine  attire  were  immediately  in  requisition ;  and  these 
were  snatched  from  the  lackey  who  brought  them,  through  the 
half -open  door,  by  girlish  arms,  all  bare.  Within  ten  minutes, 
all  the  young  people  of  the  Melyukof  family  came  down,  and 
rejoined  the  masqueraders. 

Pelagaya  Danilovna,  who  had  seen  that  a  sufficient  place 
was  cleared  for  her  guests,  and  regalement  prepared  for  the 
gentlefolk  as  well  as  the  serfs,  went  round  among  the  maskers 
with  her  spectacles  on  her  nose,  and  a  set  smile,  looking  close 
into  the  faces  of  all,  and  not  recognizing  a  single  one.  She 
neither  recognized  the  Rostofs  nor  Dimmler,  nor  could  she 
even  distinguish  her  own  daughters,  or  the  masculine  dressing- 
gowns  and  uniforms  which  they  had  put  on. 

"  And  who  is  that  one  ?  "  she  asked  of  the  guvemantka,  and 
looking  straight  into  the  face  of  her  daughter,  who  represented 
a  Kasan  Tatar:  "I  think  it  must  be  one  of  the  Bostofs. 
Well,  and  you,  Mister  Hussar,  what  regiment  do  you  sen^e 
in  ?  "  she  asked  of  Natasha.  "  Give  that  Turk,  yes  that  Turk, 
some  fruit  cake,"  said  she  to  the  butler,  who  was  serving  the 
refreshments ;  "  it  is  not  forbidden  by  their  laws." 

Sometimes,  looking  at  the  strange  but  absurd  pas  performed 
by  the  dancers,  who  gave  themselves  up  completely  to  the 
ideas  that  they  were  mumming,  that  no  one  would  recog^ze 
them,  and  therefore  felt  no  mock  modesty,  Pelagaya  Danilovna 
would  hide  her  face  in  her  handkerchief,  and  her  whole  fat 


WAR  AND  PEACE,  297 

body  would  shake  with  the  good-natured  and  uncontrollable 
laughter  of  old  age. 

After  they  had  performed  the  plyaskaj  various  khorovods 
and  other  Kussian  national  dances,  Pelagaya  Danilovna  had 
all  the  serfs  and  the  others  together  form  into  a  great  cir- 
cle ;  a  ring,  a  rope,  and  a  ruble  were  brought,  and  they  began 
to  play  various  games. 

By  the  end  of  an  hour  the  costumes  began  to  show  signs  of 
wear  and  tear.  The  charcoal  mustaches  and  eyebrows  began 
to  disappear  from  the  sweaty,  heated,  jolly  faces.  Pelagaya 
Danilovna  began  to  recognize  the  masqueraders,  and  congratu- 
late them  on  the  skill  with  which  they  had  made  up  their 
costumes,  and  tell  them  how  very  becoming  they  were  to  the 
young  ladies,  and  she  thanked  them  all  for  having  entertained 
her  so  well.  The  guests  were  invited  into  the  drawing-room, 
and  refreshments  were  provided  in  the  ballroom  for  the 
serfs. 

"  No,  but  what  a  terrible  thing  to  read  your  fortune  in  a 
bath ! "  exclaimed  an  old  maid,  who  lived  with  the  Melyukof s. 

"Why  so  ?  "  asked  the  oldest  daughter  of  the  family. 

They  were  now  sitting  down  at  supper. 

"  No,  don't  think  of  doing  such  a  thing,  it  requires  so  much 
courage." 

"  I  would  just  as  lief,"  said  Sonya. 

"Tell  us  what  happened  to  that  young  lady,"  asked  the 
second  Melyukova  girl. 

"WeU,  this  was  the  way  of  it:  a  certain  baruishnya,"  said 
the  old  maid,  "  took  a  cock,  two  plates,  knives,  and  forks,  as 
the  way  is,  and  went  and  sat  down.  She  sat  there  and  sat 
there,  and  suddenly  she  hears  some  one  coming  —  a  sledge 
drives  up,  with  harness  bells  jingling ;  she  listens,  some  one  is 
coming!  Some  one  comes  in,  absolutely  in  human  form,  just 
like  an  officer,  and  sits  down  with  her  where  the  second  plate 
is  set." 

"  Oh !  oh ! "  screamed  Natasha,  rolling  her  eyes  in  horror. 

"  And  how  was  it  — how  did  he  speak  to  her  ?  " 

"  Yes,  just  like  a  man,  everything  was  just  as  it  should  have 
been ;  and  he  began  to  talk  with  her,  and  all  she  needed  to  do 
was  to  keep  him  talking  till  the  cock  crowed,  but  she  got 
frightened ;  as  soon  as  she  got  frightened,  and  hid  her  face  in 
her  hands,  then  he  clasped  her  in  his  arms.  Luckily,  just 
then,  some  maids  came  running  in." 

"  Now,  what  is  the  good  of  frightening  them  so ! "  protested 
Pelagaya  Danilovna. 


298  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

"  Mamasha,  yon  yourself  have  had  your  fortune  told,"  ex- 
claimed one  of  the  daughters. 

"  How  is  it  fortunes  are  told  in  a  granary  ?  "  asked  Sonya. 

'^  Well,  this  is  the  way  of  it ;  you  go  into  the  g^ranary  and 
listen.  It  depends  on  what  you  hear :  if  there  is  any  knock- 
ing or  tapping,  it's  a  bad  sign ;  but  if  the  wheat  drops,  then  ifs 
for  good,  and  it  will  come  out  all  right." 

'<  Mamma,  tell  us  what  happened  to  you  when  you  went  to 
the  granary  ?  " 

Pelagaya  Danilovna  smiled. 

^^  Oh,  what's  the  use !  and  I  have  forgotten,"  said  she.  ^'Be- 
sides, you  wouldn't  go,  would  you  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  would  go,  too ;  Pelagaya  Danilovna,  do  let  me ;  I 
certainly  will  go,"  said  Sonya. 

"  Very  well,  then,  if  you  are  not  afraid." 

'^  Luiza  Ivanovna,  can  I  ?  "  asked  Sonya  of  Madame  Schoss. 

While  they  were  playing  the  games  with  the  ring,  the  ruble, 
and  the  rope,  and  now,  while  they  were  talking,  Nikolai  had 
not  left  Sonya's  side,  and  looked  at  her  from  wholly  new  eyes. 
It  seemed  to  him  that  this  evening,  thanks  to  that  charcoal 
mustache,  he,  for  the  first  time,  knew  her  as  she  really  was. 
In  reality,  Sonya,  that  evening,  was  merrier,  livelier,  and  pret- 
tier than  Nikolai  had  ever  seen  her  before. 

"  Why  !  what  a  girl  she  is,  and  what  an  idiot  I  have  been,** 
he  said  to  himself,  as  he  gazed  into  her  gleaming  eyes,  and  saw 
her  radiantly  happy  and  enthusiastic  smile  dimpling  her  cheeks 
under  her  mustache,  and  that  look  which  he  had  never  seen 
before. 

"  I  am  not  afraid  of  anything,"  said  Sonya.  "  Can  I  start 
now  ?  " 

She  got  up.  She  was  told  where  the  granary  was,  and  how 
she  must  stand  and  listen,  and  make  no  noise.  The  servant 
brought  her  shuba.  She  flung  it  over  her  head,  and  gave  a 
glance  at  Nikolai. 

"How  charming  that  girl  is!"  said  he  to  himself.  "And 
what  have  I  been  thinking  about  all  this  time  ?" 

Sonya  stepped  out  into  the  corridor  on  her  way  to  the  gran- 
ary. Nikolai,  making  the  excuse  that  he  was  too  warm,  hurried 
to  the  front  steps.  It  was  a  fact,  the  crowd  made  the  air  in 
the  rooms  close.  Out  of  doors  it  was  as  cold  and  still  as  ever; 
the  moon  was  shining,  except  that  it  was  brighter  than  before. 
The  brightness  was  so  intense,  and  there  were  so  many  gleam- 
ing stars  in  the  snow  that  those  on  high  were  quite  effaced, 
and  one  had  no  desire  to  look  for  them  there.    That  sky  was 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  ,  299 

almost  black  and  spoke  of  gloom ;  the  terrestrial  sky  was  white 
and  gay. 

"What  an  idiot  I  have  been !  what  an  idiot !  Why  have  I 
waited  so  long  ?  "  mused  Nikolai,  and  he  sprang  down  the  steps 
and  turned  the  corner  of  the  house  by  the  footpath  that  led 
back  to  the  rear  entrance.  He  knew  that  Sonya  would  come 
that  way.  Half-way  along  the  path  stood  a  great  wood-pile 
covered  with  snow,  and  casting  deep  shadows;  across  it,  and 
beyond  it,  fell  the  shadows  of  the  lindens,  bare  and  old,  weav- 
ing patterns  on  the  snow  and  the  path. 

The  footpath  led  to  the  granary.  The  timber  walls  of  the 
granaiy  and  its  roofs  covered  with  snow,  shone  in  the  moon- 
light like  a  palace  made  of  precious  stone.  One  of  the  park 
trees  cracked  in  the  frost,  and  then  everything  became  abso- 
lutely still  again.  It  seemed  to  Nikolai  as  if  his  lungs  breathed 
in  not  common  air  but  the  elixir  of  eternal  youth  and  joy. 

Feet  were  heard  stamping  on  the  steps  of  the  servants' 
entrance.  Some  one  was  scraping  the  snow  away  from  the 
lower  step  on  which  it  had  drifted,  and  then  the  voice  of  an 
old  maid  said,  — 

"Straight  ahead!  straight  ahead!  right  along  this  path, 
bimishnya.    Only  you  must  not  look  round." 

"  I  am  not  afraid,"  replied  Sonya's  voice ;  and  then  toward 
Nikolai  came  Sonya's  dainty  feet,  sliding  and  squeaking  in  her 
thin  slippers. 

Sonya  came  along,  all  muffled  up  in  her  shuba,  and  it  was 
not  till  she  was  within  two  paces  of  him  that  she  saw  him ;  it 
seemed  to  her  also  that  he  was  different  from  what  she  had  ever 
known  him  before,  and  that  he  had  nothing  of  what  always 
made  her  a  bit  afraid  of  him.  He  was  in  his  feminine  cos- 
tume, with  clustering  locks,  and  wearing  a  blissful  smile  such 
as  Sonya  had  never  seen  before.    Sonya  swiftly  hurried  to  him. 

"She's  entirely  different;  not  at  all  the  same,"  thought  Nik- 
olai, as  he  looked  into  her  face,  all  kindled  by  the  moonlight. 
He  put  his  arms  under  her  shuba,  which  encircled  her  head, 
strained  her  to  his  heart,  and  kissed  her  lips,  which  still  showed 
traces  of  the  mustache,  and  had  a  faint  odor  of  burnt  cork. 
Sonya  returned  his  kiss  full  on  the  lips,  and  putting  up  her 
slender  hands  laid  them  on  both  sides  of  his  face. 

"  Sonya ! " 

"Nicolas!" 

That  was  all  they  said.  They  ran  to  the  granary,  and  then 
they  went  back  into  the  house  by  the  doors  through  which  they 
had  come. 


800  WAR  AND  PEACE. 


J 


CHAPTER  XII 

When  they  drove  home  from  Pelagaya  Danilovna's,  Nata- 
sha, who  had  seen  and  observed  everything,  made  a  redistri- 
bution of  forces ;  so  that  Luiza  Ivanovna  and  Dimmler  went  in 
the  sledge  with  her,  while  Sonya  and  Nikolai  and  some  of  the 
maids  drove  together. 

Nikolai,  feeling  now  no  anxiety  to  take  the  lead,  drove  delib- 
erately along  the  homeward  road ;  and  as  he  kept  turning  to 
look  at  Sonya,  with  the  weird  moonlight  falling  on  her,  he 
tried  to  discover  in  that  all-transforming  light,  the  Sonya  of 
the  past  from  the  Sonya  of  the  moment  with  her  charcoal- 
pencilled  brows  and  mustache,  —  the  Sonya  from  whom  he 
was  determined  never  to  be  parted.  As  he  looked  at  her,  and 
remembered  what  she  was,  and  what  she  had  been ;  as  he  re- 
called that  odor  of  the  burnt  cork  —  mingling  so  strangely  in 
his  consciousness  of  her  kiss ;  and  as  he  gaeed  at  the  ground 
swiftly  gliding  by,  and  at  the  glittering  sky,  —  he  felt  that  he 
was  once  more  in  the  realm  of  enchantment. 

"  Sonya,  art  thou  comfortable  ?  "  he  would  occasionally  ask. 

"  Yes,"  would  be  Sonya's  answer.     "  And  art  thou  ?  " 

When  they  were  half-way  home  Nikolai  told  the  coachman 
to  hold  the  horses,  and  he  ran  back  for  a  moment,  to  Natasha's 
sledge,  and  leaned  over  the  side. 

"Natasha,"  he  whispered,  in  French.  "Do  you  know,  I 
have  made  up  my  mind  in  regard  to  Sonya." 

"  Have  you  told  her  yet  ?  "  asked  Natasha,  becoming  all 
radiant  with  delight. 

"  Oh,  how  strange  that  mustache  and  those  eyebrows  make 
you  look,  Natasha  !  —  Are  you  glad  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  am  so  glad,  so  glad  !  I  was  beginning  to  grow  angry 
with  you.  I  have  not  told  you  so ;  but  you  haven't  been  treat- 
ing her  fairly.  She  is  such  a  true-hearted  girl,  Nicolas.  How 
glad  I  am !  I  am  often  naughty,  but  I  have  reproached 
myself  for  being  selfish  in  my  happiness,  and  not  snaring  it 
with  Sonya,"  pursued  Natasha.  "But  now  I  am  so  glad ;  but 
you  must  go  back  to  her." 

"  No,  wait  a  moment.  Fie  !  how  absurd  you  do  look ! "  ex- 
claimed Nikolai,  still  gazing  at  her,  and  in  his  sister  also  dis- 
covering something  new  and  unusual,  and  bewitchingly  lovely, 
which  he  had  never  before  noticed  in  her. 

"  Natasha  I    It's  like  enchantment,  isn't  it  ?  " 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  301 

"Yes/'  replied  she.     "You  have  done  nobly." 

"  If  ever  I  had  seen  her  like  this  before,"  thought  Nikolai, 
"  I  should  long  ago  have  asked  her  advice,  and  what  is  more 
should  have  followed  it,  and  all  would  have  been  welL  —  So 
you  are  glad,  and  I  have  done  right,  have  I  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  perfectly  right.  It  was  only  a  little  while  ago 
that  I  got  vexed  with  mamasha  about  this.  Mamma  said  that 
she  was  trying  to  catch  you.  How  could  she  say  such  a  thing  ? 
I  almost  quarrelled  with  mamma.  And  I  will  never  allow 
any  one  to  say  anything  mean  about  her,  because  she  is  good- 
ness itself." 

"  All  right,  then,  is  it  ?  "  exclaimed  Nikolai,  giving  another 
searching  look  at  the  expression  of  his  sister's  face,  so  as  to 
be  sure  that  she  was  in  earnest ;  and  then,  with  creaking  boots, 
he  jumped  down  from  the  runner,  and  ran  to  overtake  his  own 
sledge.  And  there  still  sat  the  same  radiantly  happy  little 
Circassian,  with  mustache  and  gleaming  eyes,  under  her  sable 
hood ;  and  this  Circassian  was  Sonya,  and  this  Sonya  was  as- 
suredly to  be  his  happy  and  loving  wife  in  the  days  to  come ! 

After  they  had  reached  home,  and  had  told  the  countess  how 
they  had  spent  the  time  at  the  Melyukofs,  the  young  girls 
went  to  their  room.  Without  wiping  off  their  burnt  cork 
mustaches  they  undressed,  and  sat  together  for  a  long  time, 
talking  about  their  happiness.  They  had  much  to  say  about 
their  future  married  lives,  and  what  friends  their  husbands 
would  be,  and  how  happy  they  should  be. 

On  Natasha's  table  stood  dressing-glasses,  placed  there  early 
that  evening  by  her  maid,  Dunyasha. 

"  But  when  will  all  this  be  ?  Never,  I  fear  me.  It  would 
be  too  great  happiness  to  come  true,"  said  Natasha,  as  she  got 
up  and  went  over  to  the  mirrors. 

"  Sit  down,  Natasha :  maybe  you  will  see  him,"  said  Sonya. 
Natasha  lighted  the  candles  and  sat  down. 

^^I  see  some  one  with  a  mustache,"  exclaimed  Natasha, 
catching  sight  of  her  own  face. 

"You  must  not  turn  it  into  ridicule,  bdruishnya!"  said 
I>tmyasha. 

Natasha,  with  the  help  of  Sonya  and  her  maid,  got  into  the 
proper  position  before  the  glass ;  her  face  assumed  a  serious 
expression,  and  she  remained  silent.  Long  she  sat  there,  look- 
ing at  the  row  of  waning  candles  in  the  mirror,  wondering, 
as  she  remembered  the  heroines  of  stories  she  had  heard, 
whether  this  mysterious  "  Twelfth  Night "  she  should  see  her 
coffin;   or  whether  she  shoul4    see  himy  Prince  Andrei,  in. 


302  WAR  AND  PEACE, 

the  background  of  the  dark  and  confused  square  of  glass. 
But,  as  she  was  not  ready  to  mistake  the  smallest  spot  or  stain 
on  the  glass  for  the  form  of  coffin  or  of  a  man,  she  saw  noth- 
ing. Her  eyes  began  to  grow  heavy,  and  she  got  up  and  left 
the  mirror. 

<<  How  is  it  other  people  see  things,  and  I  never  see  any- 
thing?'' she  asked.  "Now  you  sit  down,  Sonya.  To-day,  of 
course,  you  must  look  for  yourself ;  but  look  for  me,  too," 
said  she.     "  I  have  such  terrible  presentiments  to-night ! " 

Sonya  sat  down  in  front  of  the  mirrors,  arranged  herself  in 
the  right  position  and  began  to  look. 

"Now,  Sofya  Aleksandrovna  will  surely  see  something," 
whispered  Dunyasha.     "  But  you  are  always  making  fun." 

Sonya  overheard  this,  and  heard  Natasha  reply,  — 

"  Yes,  I  know  she  will  see  something ;  she  did  last  year,  you 
remember." 

For  three  minutes  all  sat  in  silence.  "Of  course  she 
will"  —  whispered  Natasha^  but  she  did  not  finish  her  sen- 
tence. Suddenly  Sonya  pushed  the  mirror  back,  and  covered 
he  eyes  with  her  hand. 

"Akh!  Natasha!"  she  cried. 

"  Did  you  see  something  ?  Did  you  ?  What  did  you  see  ?  " 
demanded  Natasha,  taking  the  mirror  from  her. 

Sonya  had  seen  nothing;  her  eyes  were  simply  beginning  to 
grow  heavy,  and  she  was  just  on  the  point  of  getting  up  when 
she  heard  Natasha  beginning  to  say,  "Of  course  she  will." 
She  had  no  intention  of  deceiving  either  Dunyasha  or  Na- 
tasha, but  it  was  stupid  sitting  there !  She  herself  did  not 
know  how  or  why  it  was  that  the  cry  had  escaped  from  her 
when  she  covered  her  eyes  with  her  hand. 

"Did  you  see  him  ?  "  demanded  Natasha,  seizing  her  by  the 
arm. 

"  Yes.  Wait —  I  —  saw  him,"  said  Sonya,  led  by  some  un- 
accountable impulse,  but  not  knowing  which  Natasha  meant 
by  him,  Nikolai  or  Andrei.  "  But  why  should  I  not  tell  what 
I  saw.  Others  have  seen  such  things.  And  who  can  prove 
that  I  did  or  didn't  see  something,"  was  the  thought  that 
flashed  through  Sonya's  mind. 

"  Yes,  I  saw  him,"  said  she. 

"How  was  it  ?  was  he  sitting,  or  standing?    How  was  it?  " 

"Now,  I  saw  —  At  first  I  could  not  see  anything,  then 
suddenly  I  got  a  glimpse  of  him,  and  he  was  lying  down." 

"  Andiei  lying  down  ?  Is  he  ill  ?  "  demanded  Natasha,  gaat- 
ing  at  her  friend  with  horror-stricken  eyes. 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  303 

'^  Ko,  on  the  contrary  his  face  was  cheerful,  and  he  turned 
toward  me  "  — 

At  that  instant  it  began  to  seem  to  her  that  she  had  seen 
what  she  was  telling. 

"  Well,  and  then  what,  Sonya  ?  " 

'*'  Then  I  did  not  see  anything  more  !  Something  blue  and 
red"  — 

"  Sonya !  When  will  he  come  back  ?  When  shall  I  see 
him  ?  My  God  !  How  I  tremble  for  him  and  for  myself ;  and 
everything  fills  me  with  alarm,"  cried  Natasha;  and,  paying 
no  heed  to  the  words  of  comfort  spoken  by  Sonya,  she  got  into 
bed ;  and  long  after  the  candles  were  put  out,  she  lay  there 
motionless,  with  wide-open  eyes,  gazing  at  the  frosty  moon- 
beams flooding  the  icy  window-panes. 


CHAPTER  Xni. 

Shortly  after  Twelfth  Night,  Nikolai  confessed  to  his 
mother  his  love  for  Sonya,  and  announced  his  firm  determina- 
tion to  make  her  his  wife. 

•  The  countess,  who  had  long  before  that  remarked  what  was 
going  on  between  the  two  young  people,  and  who  had  been 
expecting  this  announcement,  listened  in  silence  to  his  words ; 
and  then  coldly  informed  him  that  he  might  marry  any  one  he 
pleased,  but  that  neither  she  nor  his  father  would  countenance 
such  a  marriage. 

For  the  first  time,  Nikolai  felt  conscious  that  his  mother 
was  offended  with  him ;  that,  notwithstanding  all  her  love  for 
him,  she  would  not  yield  to  him  in  this  matter.  With  icy 
coldness,  and  without  looking  at  her  son,  she  sent  for  her 
husband ;  and  when  he  came,  she  tried,  in  Nikolai's  presence, 
to  tell  him,  in  a  few  chilling  words,  of  what  her  son  proposed  to 
do ;  but  she  had  not  the  necessary  self-control :  tears  of  vexa- 
tion sprang  to  her  eyes,  and  she  was  compelled  to  leave  the 
room. 

The  old  count  tried  feebly  to  reason  with  Nikolai,  and  begged 
him  to  give  up  his  intention. 

Nikolai  replied  that  he  could  not  go  back  on  his  word  ;  and 
the  father,  sighing,  and  evidently  all  upset  in  his  mind,  hastily 
put  an  end  to  the  conference  and  went  to  the  countess. 

In  all  his  encounters  with  his  son,  the  count  always  had  the 
consciousness  of  his  own  blameworthiness  toward  him,  in  re- 
gard to  the  squandering  of  his  fortune  ]  and,  accordingly,  he 


304  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

could  not  show  his  anger  against  his  son  for  refosing  to  wed  a 
rich  wife,  and  for  choosing  the  penniless  Sonya ;  in  all  this 
^i^air,  he  remembered  with  the  keener  sorrow  that  if  only  his 
estibctes  had  not  been  so  ruined,  it  would  be  impossible  for 
NikoltK  i  to  find  a  better  wife ;  and  that  the  only  persons  re- 
sponsible >sf  or  the  wasting  of  this  estate  were  himself  and  his 
Mitenka,  and'Kheir  incorrigible  habits. 

The  father  an5*i;rvn^J:ox  had  nothing  more  to  say  to  Nikolai, 
in  regard  to  this  ;  but  a  few  days  later,  the  countess  summoned 
Sonya,  and  with  a  bitterness  which  no  one  in  the  world  would 
have  expected  of  her,  she  reproached  her  niece  with  having 
decoyed  her  son,  and  accused  her  of  the  blackest  ingratitude. 
Sonya,  in  silence,  and  with  downcast  eyes,  listened  to  the 
countess's  bitter  words,  and  was  at  a  loss  to  know  what  was 
required  of  her.  She  was  ready  for  any  sacrifice  for  all  of 
them,  in  return  for  their  benefits.  The  thought  of  self-sacri- 
fice was  ever  a  delight  to  her;  but,  in  this  affair,  she  could 
not  comprehend  what  she  was  required  to  sacrifice,  or  for 
what  purpose.  She  could  not  help  loving  the  countess,  and 
all  the  Rostof  family :  nor  could  she  help  loving  Nikolai,  or 
knowing  that  his  happiness  depended  on  her  love  for  Mm. 
She  therefore  stood  silent  and  sad,  and  had  nothing  to  reply. 

It  seemed  to  Nikolai  that  he  could  not  longer  endure  this 
state  of  things ;  and  he  went  to  his  mother  to  have  a  final 
explanation.  Nikolai  first  besought  his  mother  to  be  recon- 
ciled to  him  and  Sonya,  and  consent  to  their  marriage ;  then 
he  threatened  her  that  if  they  persecuted  Sonya,  he  would 
instantly  marry  her  clandestinely. 

The  countess,  with  a  coldness  her  son  had  never  experienced 
before,  replied  that  he  was  of  age,  that  Prince  Andrei  was 
going  to  marry  without  his  father's  sanction,  and  that  he  might 
do  the  same;  but  that  she  would  never  receive  this  intri' 
gantka  as  her  daughter. 

Angry  at  her  use  of  the  term  intrigantka,  Nikolai  raised  his 
voice,  and  told  his  mother  that  he  had  never  thought  that  she 
would  oblige  him  to  sacrifice  his  noblest  feelings;  and  that 
if  this  were  so,  then  he  would  never  — 

But  he  did  not  finish  uttering  this  rash  vow,  which,  judging 
by  the  expression  of  his  face,  his  mother  awaited  with  horror, 
and  which  might  have  forever  raised  a  cruel  barrier  between 
them.  He  did  not  utter  it,  because  Natasha,  with  a  pale  and 
solemn  face,  came  into  the  room :  she  had  been  listening  at  the 
door. 

"Nik<51inka,  you  don't  know  what  you  are  saying:  hush! 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  805 

hnsh  ?  I  tell  you,  hush ! "  she  almost  screamedy  so  as  to  drown 
his  words.  ^^  Mamma^  darling,  there's  no  reason  in  this  at  all, 
dushenka  moyay —  dear  heart,"  said  she,  turning  still  paler, 
and  going  to  ner  mother,  who  felt  that  she  was  on  the  very 
edge  of  an  abyss,  and  looked  with  horror  at  her  son ;  and  yet, 
by  reason  of  her  stubbornness,  and  the  impulse  of  the  quarrel, 
she  would  not,  and  could  not,  give  in.  "  Nik61inka,  I  beg  of 
you,  go  away ;  go !  and  you,  sweetheart  mamma,*  listen,"  she 
entreated,  turning  again  to  her  mother. 

Her  words  were  incoherent ;  but  they  brought  about  the 
wished-f or  result. 

The  countess,  deeply  flushed,  buried  her  face  in  her  daughter's 
bosom ;  and  Nikolai  got  up  and,  clasping  his  head  between  his 
hands,  rushed  out  of  the  room. 

Natasha  acted  the  part  of  peacemaker  so  well,  that  Nikolai 
received  a  promise  from  his  mother  that  Sonya  should  not  be 
annoyed ;  and  he  himself  swore  that  he  would  never  do  any- 
thing without  the  knowledge  of  his  parents. 

With  the  firm  intention  of  retiring  from  the  service  as  soon 
as  he  could  wind  up  his  connection  with  his  regiment,  and 
return  and  marry  Sonya,  Nikolai,  melancholy  and  grave,  still 
und^r  strained  relations  with  his  parents,  but,  as  it  seemed 
to  him,  passionately  in  love,  rejoined  his  regiment  early  in 
January. 

After  Nikolai's  departure,  it  became  sadder  than  ever  in  the 
house  of  the  Kostofs.  The  countess,  owing  to  her  mental 
tribulations,  was  taken  seriously  ill. 

Sonya  was  depressed,  both  on  account  of  her  separation 
from  Nikolai,  and  still  more  on  account  of  the  unfriendly  man- 
ner in  which  the  countess,  in  spite  of  herself,  treated  her.  The 
count  was  more  than  ever  occupied  by  the  wretched  state  of 
his  pecuniary  affairs,  which  demanded  of  him  the  most  heroic 
measures.  It  was  absolutely  necessary  to  dispose  of  their 
mansion  in  Moscow,  and  their  podmoskovnaya  estate ;  and  in 
order  to  effectuate  this  sale,  it  was  essential  to  go  to  Moscow. 
But  the  state  of  the  countess's  health  caused  him  to  postpone 
his  departure  from  day  to  day. 

Natasha,  who  had  easily,  and  even  cheerfully,  borne  the  first 
weeks  of  separation  from  her  lover,  now  every  day  grew  more 
nervous  and  impatient.  The  thought  that  she  was  wasting 
the  best  time  of  her  life,  when  she  might  so  much  better  have 
been  employing  it  in  loving  sacrifice  for  him,  constantly  tor- 
mented her. 

VOL.2,  — 20. 


306  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

His  letters  generally  merely  served  to  annoy  her.  It  re- 
volted her  to  think  that  when  her  life  was  nothing  but  a 
constant  thought  about  him,  he  was  living  in  the  great  world 
of  action,  seeing  new  places  and  new  people,  who  were  full  of 
interest  to  him.  The  more  fascinating  his  letters  were,  the 
more  they  annoyed  her. 

Her  letters  to  him  gave  her  no  consolation ;  they  were  noth- 
ing but  tedious  and  hypocritical  exercises.  She  was  not  able 
to  write  freely,  because  she  could  not  realize  the  possibility 
of  correctly  expressing  in  a  letter  even  the  thousandth  part  of 
what  she  was  accustomed  to  express  with  her  voice,  her  smile, 
and  her  glance.  She  wrote  him  perfunctory  and  monotonous 
letters,  the  stupidity  of  which  she  herself  acknowledged ; 
while  her  mother  corrected  in  the  rough  draught  the  mistakes 
in  spelling  which  she  made. 

The  countess's  health  was  still  feeble ;  but  it  was  now  no 
longer  possible  to  put  off  the  return  to  Moscow.  It  was  neces- 
sary to  arrange  for  the  marriage  settlement,  it  was  necessary  to 
sell  the  mansion;  and,  moreover.  Prince  Andrei  was  now 
expected  in  Moscow,  where  his  father.  Prince  Nikolai  Andre- 
yitch,  was  spending  the  winter :  indeed,  Natasha  was  certain 
that  he  had  already  arrived. 

The  countess  remained  in  the  country ;  but  the  count,  taking 
Sonya  and  Natasha  with  him,  went  to  Moscow  toward  the  end 
of  January. 


PART   FIFTH. 
CHAPTER  I. 

PiERBE,  after  the  engagement  of  Prince  Andrei  and  Natasha, 
suddenly,  without  any  apparent  reason,  began  to  find  it  impos- 
sible to  pursue  his  former  mode  of  life.  Firmly  as  he  was 
convinced  of  the  truths  revealed  by  the  Benefactor ;  delightful 
as  had  been  the  first  period  of  enthusiasm  for  the  inward 
labor  of  self-improvement,  to  which  he  had  given  himself  up 
with  such  zeal;  —  all  the  charm  of  this  former  existence  sud- 
denly vanished  after  the  betrothal  of  his  friends,  and  after  the 
death  of  losiph  Alekseyevitch,  intelligence  of  which  he 
received  about  the  same  time.  Nothing  but  the  empty  skele- 
ton of  life  remained  to  him :  his  mansion,  with  that  brilliant 
wife  of  his,  who  was  still  enjoying  the  favors  of  an  influential 
personage ;  his  acquaintance  with  all  Petersburg ;  and  his  duties 
at  court,  with  all  their  tedious  formalities.  And  this  life  of 
his  suddenly  began  to  fill  Pierre  with  unexpected  loathing : 
he  ceased  to  write  in  his  diary ;  he  shunned  the  society  of  the 
Brethren ;  he  began  once  more  to  frequent  the  club,  and  to 
drink  heavily;  he  became  intimate  with  the  gay  young  bache- 
lor £ret ;  and  his  behavior  became  such  that  the  Countess  Elena 
Vasilyevna  found  it  necessary  to  give  him  a  stern  admonition. 

Pierre  felt  that  she  was  right ;  and,  in  order  not  to  compro- 
mise her,  he  decided  to  go  to  Moscow. 

In  Moscow,  as  soon  as  he  set  foot  in  his  enormous  house, 
with  the  dried-up  and  withered  princesses,  and  the  swarm  of 
menials ;  as  soon  as  he  went  out  into  town  and  saw  the  Iver- 
skaya  Chapel,  with  its  innumerable  tapers  burning  before  the 
golden  shrines,  and  the  Square  o^  the  Kremlin,  with  its  sheet 
of  untrodden  snow,  the  izvoshchlk^y  njid  the  hovels  of  the  Sivtsef 
Vrazhek ;  saw  the  old  Moscovites,  who,  with  never  a  desire  or  a 
quickening  of  the  blood,  lived  out  their  days,  the  Moscovite 
dances,  the  Moscovite  ballrooms,  and  the  Moscovite  English 
club ;  —  he  felt  himself  at  home  in  a  refuge  of  quiet.  Life 
in  Moscow  gave  him  the  sensation  of  comfort,  and  warmth, 
and  cosiness^  that  one  has  in  an  old  and  dirty  dressing-gown. 

307 


808  WAR  AND  PEACE, 

Pierre  was  welcomed  by  all  Moscow  society,  yonng  and  old, 
as  a  long-expected  guest,  whose  place  was  always  ready  for 
him  and  never  given  to  another.  In  the  eyes  of  Moscow 
society,  Pierre  was  most  kindly,  good-natured,  intelligent,  and 
benevolent,  though  eccentric,  absent-minded,  but  cordial ;  a  thor- 
ough-going Russian  barin,  of  the  old  stamp.  His  purse  was 
always  empty,  because  it  was  opened  to  all.  Benefits,  wretched 
pictures,  statuary,  benevolent  societies,  gypsies,  schools,  sub- 
scription dinners,  drinking  bouts,  the  Masons,  churches,  books, — 
no  one  and  nothing  ever  met  with  a  refusal  from  him ;  and  if 
it  had  not  been  for  two  friends  of  his,  who  had  borrowed  large 
sums  of  him  and  now  took  him  under  their  guardianship,  he 
would  have  had  absolutely  nothing  left.  At  the  club,  no  din- 
ner or  reception  was  complete  without  him.  As  soon  as  he 
took  his  place  on  the  ottoman,  after  a  couple  of  bottles  of  Mar- 
geaux,  the  members  would  gather  round  him  and  vie  with 
each  other  in  all  sorts  of  gossip,  discussions,  and  clever  stories. 
If  discussions  degenerated  into  quarrels,  he  would  restore 
peace  by  his  kindly  smile  alone,  or  by  a  clever  jest.  The 
Masonic  meetings  were  tedious  and  dull  if  he  were  absent 

Often  after  dining  with  his  bachelor  friends,  he  would  yield 
with  a  genial  and  weakly  smile  to  their  entreaties,  and  go 
with  them  where  they  went,  and  help  the  hilarious  young 
fellows  wake  the  echoes  with  their  wild  enthusiastic  shouts. 
At  the  balls  he  would  never  refuse  to  dance,  if  partners  were 
scarce.  Young  matrons  and  young  girls  liked  him  because  he 
was  attentive,  especially  after  dinner,  to  all  alike,  without  mak- 
ing invidious  distinctions.  It  was  a  common  saying  of  him : 
"iZ  est  charmant ;  il  vHa  pas  de  ««ra." 

Pierre  had  become  simply  a  retired  court  chamberlain,  good- 
naturedly  vegetating  in  Moscow,  like  so  many  hundit^  of 
others. 

How  horror-struck  he  would  have  been  if,  seven  years  be- 
fore, when  he  was  just  back  from  abroad,  some  one  had  told 
him  that  it  was  idle  for  him  to  seek  out  or  invent  a  career ; 
that  the  ruts  in  which  he  would  move  were  long  ago  made  for 
him,  determined  before  the  foundation  of  the  world ;  and  that, 
in  spite  of  all  his  struggles,*he  should  be  what  every  one  in 
his  position  was  doomed  to  be.  He  would  not  have  been  able 
to  believe  this. 

Had  he  not,  with  all  his  heart,  wished  at  one  time  that  a  re- 
public should  be  established  in  Russia  ?  then,  that  he  might  be 
a  Napoleon  ?  then,  a  philosopher  ?  then,  a  general,  the  conqueror 
of  Napoleon  ?    Had  he  not  seen  the  possibility,  and  wished 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  g09 

to  take  part  in  the  mighty  task,  of  regenerating  depraved  hu- 
manity, and  of  bringing  himself  to  the  highest  degree  of 
improvement  ?  Had  he  not  established  schools  and  infirma- 
ries, and  emancipated  his  peasantry  ? 

But  instead  of  what  he  had  dreamed,  lo !  here  he  was  the 
Tich  husband  of  an  unfaithful  wife;  a  court  chamberlain 
retired;  a  gourmand  and  winebibber,  and  easily  inclined  to 
criticise  the  government ;  a  member  of  the  English  club ;  and  a 
flattered  hahitue  of  Moscow  society !  It  was  long  before  he 
could  reconcile  himself  to  the  thought  that  he  himself  was  a 
court  chamberlain  living  in  Moscow,  the  very  type  of  what  he 
should  have  so  deeply  despised  seven  years  before. 

Sometimes  he  comforted  himself  with  the  thought  that  this 
mode  of  life  was  only  temporary ;  but  then  he  would  be  terri- 
fied by  another  thought  of  how  many  people,  just  like  himself, 
with  all  their  hair,  and  their  teeth  stUl  good,  had  entered  tem- 
porarily into  this  mode  of  life,  and  into  this  club,  and  were 
now  passing  from  it,  bald  and  toothless. 

In  moments  of  pride,  when  he  thought  over  his  position,  it 
seemed  to  him  that  he  was  of  an  entirely  different  nature, 
distinct  from  these  retired  chamberlains,  whom  he  used  to 
despise;  that  they  were  insipid  and  stupid,  contented  and 
satisfied  with  their  position :  "  While  I,  on  the  contrary,  ai|^ 
utterly  dissatisfied;  my  sole  desire  is  to  do  something  for 
humanity,"  he  would  say  to  himself,  in  such  moments  of  pride. 

"But  perhaps  all  these  colleagues  of  mine  are  just  like 
myself,  and  have  been  struggling  and  seeking  to  find  some 
new  and  original  path  through  life;  and,  like  myself,  have, 
by  sheer  force  of  circumstances,  by  the  conditions  of  society 
and  birth,  —  that  elemental  force  against  which  man  is  power- 
less, — been  brought  into  the  same  condition  as  myself."  This 
he  would  say  to  nimself  in  moments  of  humility ;  and,  after 
he  had  lived  in  Moscow  for  some  time,  he  ceased  to  despise  his 
colleagues,  the  retired  courtiers,  and  began  to  like  them,  and 
to  esteem  them,  and  to  pity  them,  as  he  did  himself. 

Pierre  no  longer  suffered,  as  formerly,  from  moments  of 
despair,  hypochondria,  and  disgust  of  life ;  but  the  same 
disease,  which  formerly  had  been  made  manifest  by  occasional 
attacks,  had  struck  inward,  and  not  for  a  moment  ceased  its 
insidious  working. 

"  For  what  end  ?  Why?  For  what  purpose  were  we  created 
in  the  world?"  he  would  ask  himself  in  perplexity  many  times 
every  day  in  spite  of  himself,  beginning  to  reason  out  some 
explanation  of  life ;  but  as  he  knew  by  experience  that  such 


3^10  W^R  AND  PEACE. 

questions  as  these  must  remain  unanswerable,  he  would  strive 
in  all  haste  to  put  them  out  of  his  mind,  —  taking  up  a  book, 
or  going  over  to  the  club,  or  calling  on  ApoUon  Nikolayevitch, 
to  talk  over  the  gossip  of  the  town. 

"  Elena  Vasilyevna,  whom  no  one  ever  cared  for  except  for 
her  body's  sake,  and  who  is  one  of  the  stupidest  women  in  the 
world,"  said  Pierre  to  himself,  "  makes  people  believe  that  she 
is  a  woman  of  superior  wit  and  refinement,  and  they  bow  down 
before  her.    Napoleon  Bonaparte  was  despised  by  every  one 

,  until  he  became  great ;  but  since  he  has  become  a  miserable 
comedian,  the  Emperor  Franz  is  trying  to  make  him  take  his 
daughter  illegally  for  his  wife.  The  Spaniards,  through  the 
Roman  Catholic  clergy,  offered  up  prayers  of  thanksgiving  to 
God  for  granting  them  a  victory  over  the  French  on  the  26th 
of  June ;  while  the  French,  through  the  medium  of  the  same 
Catholic  priesthood,  offer  up  thanksgivings  to  the  same  God 
for  having  beaten  the  Spaniards  on  the  26th  of  June !  My 
brethren,  the  Masons,  solemnly  swear  that  they  wiU  be  ready 
to  sacrifice  all  they  possess  for  their  neighbor;  but,  when  the 
box  is  passed  around,  they  do  not  contribute  a  single  ruble  for 
the  poor ;  and  the  Astraea  lodge  intrigues  against  the  ^^  Manna 
Seekers,"  and  they  toil  and  moil  for  the  sake  of  getting  a  gen- 

%iine  Scotch  carpet  and  charter,  though  the  meaning  of  it  is  not 
known  even  by  the  one  who  copies  it  off,  and  it  is  necessary  to 
no  one.  All  of  us  profess  the  Christian  law  of  forgiveness  of 
injuries,  and  of  love  for  our  neighbor,  —  a  law  in  obedience 
to  which  we  have  erected,  here  in  Moscow,  eighty-score 
churches;  while  yesterday  a  deserter  was  flogged  with  the 
knout,  and  the  priest,  the  servant  of  this  same  law  of  love 
and  forgiveness,  presented  the  crucifix  for  the  soldier  to  kiss, 
before  he  received  his  punishment." 

Thus  mused  Pierre;  and  this  whole  universal  falsehood, 
which  everybody  acknowledges,  amazed  him  every  time  he 
thought  of  it ;  just  as  though  he  were  not  used  to  it,  just  as 
though  it  were  some  new  thing. 

"  I  understand  this  falsehood  and  confusion,"  he  thought. 
"  But  how  can  I  convince  them  of  what  I  understand  ?  I  have 
made  the  experiment,  and  have  always  found  that  they,  in  the 
depths  of  their  hearts,  understand  it  just  as  I  do;  but  they 
strive  not  to  see  it.  Of  course  it  must  be  so.  But  for  me, 
what  ought  I  to  do  ?  "  Pierre  asked  himself.  He  was  luider- 
going  the  unhappy  experience  of  many  ^)eople,  especially  Rus- 
sians, who  have  not  only  the  faculty  of  seeing  and  realizing 
the  possibility  of  goodness  and  right,  but  of  seeing  too  clearly 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  Sll 

the  falsity  and  deception  of  life,  to  feel  able  to  take  any 
serious  part  in  it. 

Every  department  of  activity  was,  in  his  eyes,  complicated 
with  falsehood  and  deception.  Whatever  he  had  tried  to  be, 
whatever  he  had  tried  to  accomplish,  he  always  found  himself 
jostled  by  this  knavery  and  falsehood,  with  his  path  of  activity 
completely  blocked.  But,  meantime,  it  was  necessary  for  him 
to  live,  necessary  for  him  to  find  occupation.  It  was  too  ter- 
rible for  him  to  be  under  the  weight  of  these  unsolvable  prob- 
lems of  life ;  and  so  he  gave  himself  up  to  the  first  temptation, 
in  order  to  forget  them.  He  frequented  the  society  of  all  sorts 
and  conditions  of  men,  he  drank  deeply,  he  purchased  paint- 
inj^,  he  built  houses,  and,  chief  of  all,  he  read. 

He  read,  and  read  everything  that  came  into  his  hands ;  and 
he  was  such  an  omnivorous  reader  that  even  when,  on  his  return 
home,  his  valet  came  in  to  undress  him,  he  continued  his  read- 
ing, and  after  reading  tiU  he  was  tired,  he  would  fall  asleep ; 
and  the  next  morning  he  would  go  to  the  club,  or  call  on 
acquaintances,  and  talk  gossip,  and  from  there  go  to  some 
wanton  rout  where  wine  and  women  served  to  occupy  his 
mind;  and  thus,  around  the  circle  again,  from  spree  to  reading, 
and  then  his  idle  gossip  and  his  wine. 

Strong  drink  was  becoming  for  him  constantly  a  greater  and 
greater  physical,  and  even  moral,  necessity.  Although  the  doc- 
tors warned  him  that  wine  was  dangerous  to  him,  on  account 
of  his  corpulency,  he  still  continued  to  drink  heavily.  He  felt 
perfectly  happy  only  when,  without  knowing  or  caring  how, 
he  had  poured  down  his  capacious  throat  several  glasses  of 
wine ;  and  begun  to  experience  the  pleasant  warmth  spreading 
through  his  frame,  and  good  will  toward  all  the  human  race, 
and  a  mental  readiness  superficially  to  touch  upon  any  ques- 
tion, without  pretending  to  penetrate  deeply  into  its  inner 
nature.  Only  after  he  had  drunk  a  bottle  ■  or  two  of  wine, 
would  he  vaguely  feel  that  this  complicated,  terrible  coil  of 
life,  which  had  formerly  appalled  him,  was  now  not  so  appal- 
ling as  it  had  seemed.  With  a  roaring  in  his  ears,  as  he  idly 
chatted,  or  listened  to  stories,  or  read  his  books  after  dinner  or 
supper,  he  saw  this  tangle  of  doubts  constantly  facing  him  on 
every  side.  But  it  was  only  under  the  influence  of  wine  that 
he  could  say  to  himself,  "  This  is  nothing ;  I  will  put  it  away 
for  the  present,  for  I  have  an  explanation  all  ready.  But  now 
is  no  time  ;  I  will  think  it  all  out  by  and  by." 

This  "by  and  by"  never  came.  When  his  stomach  was 
empty,  the  next  morning,  all  the  former  questions  arose,  just 


312  WAR  AND  PEACP, 

as  unsolvable  and  terrible ;  and  Pierre  hastened  to  seize  his 
book,  and  was  delighted  when  any  one  came  to  call  upon  him. 

Sometimes  Pierre  remembered  what  he  had  heard  of  sol- 
diers at  war :  that  when  they  are  lying  idle  under  fire,  they 
eagerly  strive  to  invent  some  diversion,  so  as  the  more  easily  to 
forget  the  threatening  danger.  And  it  seemed  to  Pierre  that 
all  men  were,  similar  soldiers^  distracting  themselves  from  life : 
some  by  ambition ;  others  by  cards ;  others  by  codifying  laws ; 
others  by  women,  plays,  horses ;  some  by  politics ;  others  by 
sport,  by  wine,  by  statecraft. 

"  There  is  nothing  insignificant,  there  is  nothing  of  great 
importance ;  all  is  the  same  in  the  end ;  only  how  can  I  save 
myself  from  it ! "  thoaght  Pierre.  '^  Only  by  not  seeing  i^ 
this  terrible  U" 


CHAPTER  n. 

Eably  in  the  winter,  Prince  Nikolai  Andreyitch  Bolkonsky 
and  his  daughter  took  up  their  residence  in  Moscow. 

The  fame  of  his  past  life,  the  keenness  of  his  intellect,  and 
his  bold  originality,  immediately  caused  him  to  be  regarded  by 
the  Moscovites  with  special  admiration  and  respect ;  and,  as 
the  popular  enthusiasm  for  the  Emperor  Alexander's  manage- 
ment of  affairs  had  notoriously  cooled  down,  and  given  place 
to  an  anti-French  and  nationalistic  tendency,  now  sdl  the  vogue 
in  Moscow,  he  had  become  the  centre  of  the  opposition  to  the 
government. 

The  prince  had  aged  very  considerably  during  the  year  past. 
He  now  began  to  manifest  some  of  the  acute  symptoms  of  old 
age :  unexpected  naps,  forgetfulness  of  recent  events  and 
vivid  remembrance  of  those  lone  past,  and  the  childish  vanity 
with  which  he  accepted  the  role  of  chief  of  the  Moscovite 
opposition.  Nevertheless,  when  the  old  prince  came  down  to 
evening  tea,  in  his  fur  shubka  and  powdered  wig,  and  at  any 
one's  instigation  began  to  tell  his  pithy  anecdotes  about  the 
days  gone  by,  or  deliver  his  still  pithier  and  harsher  judgments 
upon  the  present,  he  inspired  in  all  his  guests  a  single  feeling 
or  sincere  respect. 

In  the  eyes  of  visitors,  the  old-fashioned  house,  with  its 
huge  pier-glasses,  its  ante-revolutionary  furniture,  its  pow- 
dered lackeys,  presided  over  by  this  severe  and  intelligent  old 
man  of  a  past  generation,  with  his  gentle  daughter,  and  the 
pretty  Frenchwoman,  who  treated  him  with  such  deference, 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  813 

presented  an  impressive  but  agreeable  spectacle.  But  these 
visitors  did  not  realize  that,  over  and  above  the  two  or  three 
hoars  when  they  saw  the  household,  there  were  twenty-two 
more  each  day,  during  which  the  inner  life  of  the  house  went 
on  unseen. 

This  inner  life  had  recently,  especially  during  their  stay  in 
?floscow,  become  exceedingly  trying  for  the  Princess  Mariya. 
In  Moscow  she  was  deprived  of  her  dearest  pleasures,  —  the 
visits  from  her  pilgrims,  and  the  solitude  which  gave  her  such 
consolation  at  Luisiya  Gorui :  she  could  find  no  comfort  or  joy 
in  the  crowded  city.  She  did  not  go  into  society :  everybody 
knew  that  her  father  would  not  allow  her  to  go  without  him, 
and  his  health  was  too  precarious  to  permit  him  to  go  out ;  and, 
consequently,  she  received  no  invitations  to  dinner-parties  or 
balls.  She  had  renounced  all  hope  of  ever  getting  married. 
She  had  too  often  witnessed  the  coldness  and  irritability  with 
which  he  received  and  dismissed  such  young  men  as  occasion- 
ally came  to  their  house,  and  who  might  have  been  her  suitors. 

The  Princess  Mariya  had  no  friends  :•  since  her  arrival  in 
Moscow,  her  eyes  had  been  opened  in  regard  to  the  two  who 
had  been  more  intimate  with  her  than  all  the  rest.  Mademoi- 
selle Bourienne,  in  whom,  even  in  times  past,  she  could  not 
feel  perfect  confidence,  had  now  become  positively  disagree- 
able to  her ;  and  for  several  reasons  she  felt  obliged  to  hold 
her  at  a  distance. 

Julie,  with  whom  she  had  kept  up  an  uninterrupted  corre- 
spondence for  five  years,  was  in  Moscow,  but  she  seemed  like 
an  utter  stranger  to  her  when  they  met  again  face  to  face. 
Julie,  by  the  death  of  her  brothers,  had  become  one  of  the 
wealthiest  girls  in  Moscow,  and  was  completely  absorbed  in 
the  pleasures  of  fashionable  society.  She  was  surrounded  by 
young  men,  who,  she  said  to  herself,  had  suddenlv  awakened 
to  the  appreciation  of  her  merits.  She  found  herself  now 
rapidly  growing  old,  and  felt  that  her  last  chance  of  finding  a 
husband  was  passing,  and  that  now  or  never  her  fate  must  be 
decided. 

The  Princess  Mariya,  with  a  melancholy  smile,  remembered, 
as  each  Thursday  came  round,  that  now  she  had  no  one  to  write 
to,  since  Julie,  whose  presence  gave  her  no  delight,  was  in  town 
and  she  could  see  her  every  week.  She,  like  the  old  French 
emigre  who  refused  to  marry  tlie  lady  at  whose  house  he  had 
spent  all  his  evenings  for  a  numl^er  of  years,  was  sorry  that 
Julie  was  so  near  because  now  she  should  have  no  one  to  write 
to.    She  had  no  one  in  Moscow  to  whom  she  could  confide  her 


814  ^AR  AND  PEACE. 

sorrows,  and  since  coming  there  these  sorrows  had  increased 
and  multiplied. 

The  time  for  Prince  Andrei's  return,  and  for  his  marriage, 
was  drawing  nigh,  but  his  father  seemed  no  more  inclined  than 
before  to  listen  to  his  entreaties  and  sanction  it ;  on  the  con- 
trary, he  would  hear  nothing  to  it ;  and  the  mere  mention  of  the 
Countess  Rostova  drove  the  old  prince  beside  himself.  As  it 
was,  he  was  in  a  bad  temper  the  greater  part  of  the  time. 

The  Princess  Mariya  had  a  new  and  additional  trial,  at  this 
time,  in  the  lessons  which  she  gave  her  siz-year-old  nephew. 
In  her  treatment  of  Nikolushka  she  recognized  with  dismay 
that  she  was  liable  to  Hts  of  irritability  similar  to  her  father's. 
No  matter  how  many  times  she  reproached  herself  for  losing 
her  temper  during  his  lesson  hours,  it  happened  almost  every 
time  when  she  sat  down  with  the  pointer  to  teach  him  his 
French  alphabet  that  from  her  very  desire  to  help  him  along 
as  ra^jidly  as  possible,  to  make  his  tasks  easy  and  to  give  the 
little  fellow  all  the  superfluity  of  her  own  knowledge,  the 
slightest  inattention  on  the  part  of  the  little  boy  —  who  was 
afraid,  to  begin  with,  of  an  outbreak  of  his  aunt's  irascibility  — 
would  make  her  tremble  with  indignation,  lose  her  patience, 
grow  angry  and  raise  her  voice,  and  sometimes  even  seize  him 
by  the  arm  and  stand  him  in  the  comer.  After  doing  this, 
she  would  begin  to  shed  tears  over  her  hasty  temper,  her  ugly 
nature ;  and  Nikolushka,  sobbing  out  of  sympathy,  would  leave 
his  corner  without  permission,  run  up  to  her,  and  pull  her 
tear-wet  hands  from  her  face,  and  try  to  comfort  her. 

But  by  far  the  greatest  trial  of  all  was  caused  the  princess 
by  her  father's  irritability,  which  was  always  vented  upon 
his  daughter,  and  which  of  late  became  even  cruelty.  If  he 
had  compelled  her  to  do  penance  all  night  long  with  prayers 
and  genuflections,  if  he  had  struck  her,  if  he  had  compelled 
her  to  draw  wood  and  water,  it  would  have  never  occurred  to 
her  that  her  position  was  hard ;  but  this  loving  tyrant,  all  the 
more  terrible  from  the  very  fact  that  he  loved  her,  and  there- 
fore tormented  both  himself  and  her,  took  especial  pains  not 
only  to  insult  and  humiliate  her,  but  to  make  her  feel  that  she 
was  always  and  forever  in  the  wrong. 

And  latterly  he  had  discovered  a  new  whim,  which  tormented 
the  Princess  Mariya  more  than  all  else  put  together.  This 
was  his  constantly  increasing  friendship  for  Mademoiselle 
Bourienne.  First  suggested  to  his  mind  by  the  news  of 
Prince  Andrei's  engagement,  the  farcical  notion  that,  if  his  son 
were  going  to  marry,  then  he  would  marry  Bourienne,  evi- 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  315 

dently  flattered  his  fancy,  and  of  late  he  had  stubbornly  lav- 
ished especial  attentions  on  the  Frenchwoman,  —  for  the 
special  purpose,  as  it  seemed  to  the  Princess  Mariya,  of 
affronting  herself,  and  of  expressing  his  disapprobation  of  his 
daughter  by  making  love  to  Bourienne. 

In  Moscow,  on  one  occasion  when  the  Princess  Mariya  was 
present,  —  it  seemed  to  her  that  her  father  chose  that  time  on 
purpose, — the  old  prince  kissed  Mademoiselle  Bourienne's 
hand,  and,  drawing  her  Hx)  him,  embraced  and  fondled  her. 
The  Princess  Mariya  flushed  with  anger  and  left  the  room. 

After  a  few  minutes,  Mademoiselle  Bourienne  rejoined  her, 
smiling,  and  began  to  tell  some  entertaining  story  in  her  agree- 
able voice.  The  Princess  Mariya  hastily  wiped  away  her 
tears,  went  with  decided  steps  straight  to  Bourienne,  and,  evi- 
dently not  knowing  what  she  was  doing,  began  to  shout  at  the 
Frenchwoman  in  furious  haste,  and  with  explosive  accents : 
"  It  is  shameful,  contemptible,  beastly,  to  take  advantage  of  a 
man's  weakness."  .  .  .  She  did  not  conclude  her  sentence. 
"  Leave  my  room,"  she  fairly  screamed,  and  then  burst  into 
tears  again. 

The  following  day,  the  prince  said  not  a  word  to  his 
daughter ;  but  she  observed  that  at  dinner  he  ordered  Made- 
moiselle Bourienne  to  be  served  in  precedence  of  all  others. 
At  the  end  of  the  dinner,  when  the  butler,  according  to  his 
usual  custom,  handed  the  coffee  round,  serving  the  princess 
first,  the  old  prince  suddenly  flew  into  a  passion,  flung  his 
cane  at  Filipp,  and  instantly  gave  orders  that  he  should  be 
sent  to  serve  as  a  soldier.  "  You  didn't  obey  me  !  .  .  .  Twice 
I  told  you !  .  .  .  You  didn't  obey  me  !  She's  the  first  person 
in  this  house ;  she  is  my  best  friend,"  screamed  the  prince. 
"  And  if  you,"  he  added  in  a  perfect  fury,  for  the  first  time 
addressing  his  daughter,  "  if  you  permit  yourself,  if  you  dare, 
another  time,  as  you  did  this  evening,  to  forget  your  duty 
before  her,  then  I  will  show  you  who  is  master  in  this  house. 
Away  with  you !     Out  of  my  sight !     Here !  beg  her  pardon  ! " 

The  Princess  Mariya  begged  Amalie  Bourienne's  pardon, 
and  then  interceded  with  her  father  for  the  butler  Filipp. 

At  such  moments  there  arose  in  the  Princess  Mariya's  soul 
a  feeling  like  the  pride  of  an  immolated  victim.  And  then, 
agp.in,  at  such  moments,  this  father  whom  she  blamed  would 
either  search  for  his  spectacles,  not  seeing  them  when  they 
were  close  at  hand,  or  would  forget  what  had  only  just  hap- 
pened, or  would  stagger  along  on  weakening  limbs,  glancing 
around  lest  any  one  should  have  seen  his  feebleness,  —  or,  what 


816  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

was  worse  than  all,  after  dinner,  when  there  were  no  guests  to 
keep  him  awake,  would  suddenly  fall  into  a  doze,  dropping  his 
napkin,  and  nodding  his  head  over  his  plate.  "  He  is  old  and 
feeble,  and  do  I  dare  to  judge  him?"  she  would  think  at 
such  moments,  with  revulsion  of  feeling  and  disgust  at 
herself. 

CHAPTER   in. 

In  1811,  there  was  living  in  Moscow  a  French  doctor, 
Metivier,  a  handsome  man  of  gigantic  frame,  amiable  after  the 
manner  of  his  nation,  and,  as  was  said  by  every  one,  a  ph^^si- 
cian  of  extraordinary  skill.  He  had  rapidly  become  fashion- 
able, and  was  received  in  the  houses  of  the  highest  aristocracy 
not  merely  as  a  doctor  but  as  an  equal. 

Prince  Nikolai  Andreyitch,  who  had  always  scoffed  at  medical 
science,  had  lately,  by  Mademoiselle  Bourienne's  advice,  con- 
sulted this  doctor,  and  soon  became  accustomed  to  him.  Meti- 
vier used  to  visit  him  twice  a  week. 

On  the  6th  of  December  (O.S.),  — St.  Nicholas's  Day,  — ^1 
Moscow  called  at  the  prince's  door,  but  he  gave  orders  to  admit 
no  one.  He  commanded,  however,  that  a  select  few,  whose 
names  he  handed  the  Princess  Mariya,  should  be  bidden  to 
dinner. 

Metivier  came  that  morning  with  his  congratulations,  and  in 
his  capacity  of  physician  took  it  upon  him  to  violate  the  orders, 
de  forcer  la  consigney  as  he  expressed  it  to  the  Princess  Mariya, 
and  he  went  in  to  see  the  prince. 

It  chanced  that  this  morning  the  old  prince  was  in  one  of  his 
most  detestable  moods.  The  whole  morning  he  wandered  up 
and  down  the  house,  finding  fault  with  every  one,  and  pretend- 
ing not  to  understand  anything  that  was  said  to  him,  and  that 
they  would  not  understand  him. 

The  Princess  Mariya  knew  only  too  well  that  this  mood 
betokened  a  latent  and  persistent  querulousness,  that  was 
certain  to  flash  out  into  a  tempest  of  fuiT,  and  all  that  morn- 
ing of  the  prince's  name-day  she  expected  the  outbreak,  which 
was  as  sure  to  go  off  as  a  loaded  musket  at  full  cock. 

Until  the  doctor's  arrival,  the  morning  passed  in  comparative 
serenity.  Having  admitted  the  doctor,  the  Princess  Mariya 
took  her  book,  and  sat  down  in  the  drawing-room,  near  a  door, 
where  she  could  hear  all  that  was  going  on  in  the  prince's 
cabinet. 

At  first  she  heard  only  M^tivier's  voice,  then  her  father's, 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  317 

then  both  voices  speaking  at  once ;  then  the  door  opened,  and 
the  dark-haired  Metivier  appeared  on  the  threshold,  his  hand- 
some face  expressing  alarm,  followed  by  the  prince  in  his 
nightcap  and  dressing-gown,  his  face  distorted  with  passion, 
and  the  pupils  of  his  eyes  dilated. 

"  Haven't  you  any  wits  ?  "  screamed  the  prince.  "  Well,  I 
have.  You  slave  of  Bonaparte !  You  spy  !  Out  of  my  house ! 
(ret  out,  I  tell  you ! "  and  he  slammed  the  door. 

Metivier,  shrugging  his  shoulders,  went  to  Mademoiselle 
Bourienne,  who,  on  hearing  the  loud  voices,  had  rushed  in  from 
the  adjoining  room. 

"  The  prince  is  not  very  well,  —  bilious,  and  a  cerebral  con- 
gestion. I  will  come  in  again  to-morrow.*  Don't  be  worried," 
said  Metivier ;  and,  laying  his  fingers  on  his  lips,  he  hastened 
out. 

The  prince  was  heard  walking  up  and  down  in  his  room,  in 
his  slippers,  and  shouting, "  Spies !  .  .  .  Traitors,  traitors  every- 
where !    Not  a  minute's  peace  even  in  my  own  house  ! " 

After  Metivier's  departure,  the  old  prince  summoned  his 
daughter  to  him,  and  the  whole  brunt  of  his  fury  fell  upon 
her.  She  was  to  blame  for  admitting  spies  into  his  presence. 
Why,  he  had  told  her,  said  he,  that  she  was  to  write  down  a 
list,  and  not  to  admit  any  one  who  was  not  on  the  list.  Why, 
then,  had  she  admitted  this  scoundrel  ?  It  was  all  her  fault. 
He  could  not  have  a  moment's  rest  with  her,  not  even  die  in 
peace,  said  he.  "  No,  mitushka,  you  might  as  well  make  up 
your  mind  to  it :  we  must  part,  we  must  part.  I  can't  stand 
this  sort  of  thing  any  more,"  he  exclaimed,  and  left  the  room. 
And  then,  as  though  fearing  that  she  might  not  understand 
how  thoroughly  his  mind  was  made  up,  he  came  back  to  her, 
and,  endeavoring  to  assume  an  expression  of  calmness,  he  added, 
"  And  don't  you  for  a  moment  imagine  that  I  say  this  to  you 
in  passion ;  no,  I  am  perfectly  calm,  and  I  have  made  up  my 
mind  after  full  deliberation,  and  it  shall  be.  We  must  part, 
rind  a  home  somewhere  else."  .  .  .  But  he  could  not  restrain 
himself,  and,  with  a  flash  of  indignation  possible  only  to  one 
who  loves,  he,  though  evidently  suffering  himself,  shook  his 
flst  in  her  face  and  screamed,  "  And  why  on  earth  hasn't  some 
idiot  taken  her  for  his  wife  ?  "  He  slammed  the  door  after 
him,  had  Mademoiselle  Bourienne  called  to  him,  and  quiet 
reigned  in  his  cabinet. 

At  two  o'clock  the  six  persons  invited  to  dinner  arrived. 

*  La  hiU  et  h  transport  om  cerveau     TranquiUisezrVQuSf  je  repasserat 


318  W^R  A,ND  PEACE, 

These  guests  —  the  distinguished  Count  Rostopehin,*  Prince 
Lopukhin  and  his  nephew,  General  Chatrof,  an  old  companion 
in  arms  of  the  prince's,  and,  for  young  men,  Pierre  and  Boris 
Drubetskoi  —  were  waiting  for  him  in  the  drawing-room. 

Having  recently  come  to  Moscow^  on  leave  of  absence,  Boris 
had  been  anxious  to  make  the  acquaintance  of  Prince  Nikolai 
Andreyitch,  and  he  had  so  far  succeeded  in  winning  his  good 
graces  that  the  prince  made  an  exception  in  his  case,  and 
received  him  in  spite  of  his  being  an  eligible  young  bachelor. 

The  prince's  house  was  not  what  one  calls  *'  fashionable,"  but 
it  was  the  centre  of  a  small  circle,  which,  though  it  niade  little 
noise  in  the  city,  gave  a  more  flattering  distinction  than  any 
other  to  those  who  were  admitted  to  it.  This  was  made  evi- 
dent to  Boris  a  week  before,  when  he  overheard  Rostopehin  tell 
the  governor-general  of  the  city,  who  invited  him  to  dinner  on 
St.  Nicholas's  Day,  that  it  was  impossible.  "  On  that  day  I 
always  go  and  worship  the  relics  of  Prince  Nikolai  Andre- 
yitch." 

"  Oh,  yes,  yes,"  replied  the  governor-general.    "  How  is  he  ?  " 

The  little  company  gathered  before  dinner  in  the  old-fash- 
ioned, high-studded  drawing-room,  with  its  ancient  furniture, 
was  like  the  gathering  of  a  solemn  court  of  justice.  No  one 
had  much  to  say,  and  if  they  spoke  it  was  in  low  tones. 

Prince  Nikolai  Andreyitch  came  in,  silent  and  pre-occupied. 
The  Princess  Mariya  seemed  even  more  quiet  and  timid  than 
usual.  The  guests  took  no  pains  to  talk  with  her,  for  they 
saw  that  she  was  not  attending  to  what  they  said.  Count 
Rostopehin  was  the  only  one  who  kept  up  the  thread  of  con- 
versation, speaking  now  of  the  latest  news  in  the  city,  and 
now  of  politics  in  general.  Lopukhin  and  the  old  general 
rarely  took  any  share  in  it.  Prince  Nikolai  Andreyitch  lis- 
tened as  a  superior  judge  listens  to  a  report  presented  to  him, 
only  by  his  significant  silence,  or  by  some  curt  monosyllable 
now  and  then,  showing  that  he  followed  the  drift  of  what  was 
said. 

The  tone  of  the  conversation  made  it  evident  that  no  one 
took  any  satisfaction  in  what  was  going  on  in  the  political 
world.  They  spoke  of  recent  events  as  though  they  were  con- 
vinced that  everything  was  going  from  bad  to  worse ;  but  in 

•  Count  Feodor  Vasilyeviteh  Rostopehin  (1763-1826),  the  famous  goyemor- 
general  of  Moscow.  Wrote  satires  under  the  pseudonym  of  Sila  Andreyevitch 
Bo^tuiref.  His  bulletins  (afishi)  were  masterpieces  of  eloquence.  While 
living  in  Paris  lie  publislied  his  denial  of  having  set  lire  to  Moscow  {LaVHiii 
mr  VJncendie  de  mucou ;  1823). 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  319 

« 

all  their  anecdotes  and  criticisms  it  was  noticeable  how  each 
speaker  came  to  a  stop,  or  was  brought  to  a  stop,  every  time 
at  that  border-land  where  there  was  any  possibility  of  personal 
reflections  on  his  majesty,  the  Emperor. 

The  conversation  at  dinner  turned  on  the  most  recent 
political  news :  the  seizure  by  Napoleon  of  the  possessions  of 
the  Duke  of  Oldenburg,  and  the  Russian  note  —  hostile  to 
Napoleon  —  which  had  been  despatched  to  all  the  courts 
throughout  Europe. 

"  Bonaparte  treats  Europe  as  a  pirate  treats  the  ships  he  has 
captured,"  said  Count  Rostopchin,  repeating  an  epigram  that 
he  had  already  got  off  a  number  of  times  before.  "  You  can 
only  marvel  at  the  forbearance  or  the  blindness  of  the  sover- 
eigns. Now  it  is  the  pope's  turn ;  and  Bonaparte  is  calmly 
proceeding  to  humiliate  the  head  of  the  Catholic  religion ; 
and  not  a  voice  is  raised  in  protest !  Our  sovereign  is  the 
only  one  who  protests  against  the  occupation  of  the  Duchy  of 
Oldenburg.     But  then  "  — 

Count  Rostopchin  came  to  a  pause,  conscious  of  having 
reached  that  point  where  criticism  was  impossible. 

"  He  was  offered  other  possessions,  instead  of  Oldenburg," 
said  Prince  Nikolai  Andreyitch.  "  Just  as  I  transfer  peasants 
from  Luisiya  Gorui  to  Bogucharovo,  or  to  my  Riazan  estates, 
he  does  with  dukes." 

"  The  Duke  of  Oldenburg  shows  great  force  of  character, 
and  bears  his  misfortune  with  admirable  resignation,"  *  said 
Boris,  modestly  joining  the  conversation.  He  made  this  re- 
mark because  on  his  way  from  Petersburg  he  had  been 
honored  with  an  introduction  to  the  duke.  Prince  Nikolai 
Andreyitch  gave  the  young  man  a  look,  as  though  he  had  it  in 
mind  to  make  some  reply  to  this,  but  checked  himself,  feeling 
that  Boris  was  too  young  for  him  to  waste  his  sarcasm  upon. 

"  I  have  read  our  protest  in  regard  to  the  Oldenburg  affair, 
and  was  amazed  at  the  bad  style  in  which  it  was  written,"  said 
Count  Rostopchin,  in  the  easy-going  tone  of  a  man  who  knows 
perfectly  well  what  he  is  talking  about. 

Pierre  looked  at  Rostopchin  in  naive  amazement,  unable  to 
comprehend  why  he  should  be  disturbed  at  the  wretched  style 
of  the  "  note." 

"  What  difference  does  it  make  how  the  note  was  written, 
count,  provided  the  subject-matter  is  vigorous  ?  "  said  he. 

"My  dear  fellow,  I  think,  with  our  army  of  five  hundred 

*  Leduc  d*Oldenbourg  supporte  son  malheur  avec  une  force  decaracUre, 
et  une  r^eignation  admirable. 


320  W^^^  ^NI>  PEACE. 

» 

thousand  men,  it  might  just  as  well  have  been  couched  in  a 
good  style  ! "  *  said  Count  Rostopchin. 

Pierre  understood  now  why  Count  Rostopchin  was  disturbed 
by  the  wretched  writing  of  the  note. 

"  It  seems  to  me  there's  a  plentiful  crop  of  penny-a-liners 
nowadays,"  said  the  old  prince.  "Yonder  in  Petersburg, 
everybody  is  writing  not  only  ^  notes,'  but  new  laws,  all  the 
time.  My  Andryusha  has  been  scribbling  a  whole  volume  of 
laws  for  Russia  there.  To-day,  everybody  is  scribbling." 
And  he  laughed  unnaturally. 

The  conversation  languished  for  a  moment ;  then  the  old 
general  called  attention  to  himself,  by  a  preliminary  cough. 

"  Have  you  heard  of  what  took  place  recently  at  a  review  at 
Petersburg  ?  —  How  the  new  French  ambassador  acted  ?  " 

"  What  was  that  ?  Yes,  I  heard  something  about  it.  He 
made  a  very  awkward  remaik  in  his  majesty's  presence,  I 
believe." 

"  His  majesty -called  attention  to  the  division  of  grenadiers, 
and  their  splendid  marching,"  pursued  General  Chatrof ;  "  but 
it  seems  the  ambassador  showed  absolute  indifference,  and  per- 
mitted himself  fco  say  that  at  home  in  France  they  did  not 
waste  their  time  on  such  trivialities.  The  sovereign  did  not 
deign  to  give  him  any  answer.  But  they  say  that  at  the  sub- 
sequent review  he  did  not  say  a  word  to  him." 

AH  were  silent :  it  was  out  of  the  question  to  make  any  com- 
ment on  this  occurrence,  since  it  concerned  the  monarch  per- 
sonally. 

"Insolent  wretches!"  exclaimed  the  prince.  "Do  you 
know  Metivier  ?  I  showed  him  out  of  the  house  to-day.  He 
came,  and  was  admitted,  although  I  had  given  special  orders 
to  admit  no  one,"  said  the  prince,  with  an  angry  look  at  his 
daughter.  And  then  he  repeated  his  whole  conversation  with 
the  French  doctor,  and  gave  the  reasons  that  made  him  think 
M6tivier  a  spy.  Though  these  reasons  were  inconclusive 
and  obscure,  no  one  made  any  criticism. 

After  the  roast,  the  champagne  was  handed  around.  The 
guests  rose  to  their  feet,  offering  the  old  prince  their  con- 
gratulations. The  Princess  Mariya  also  went  round  to  him. 
He  gave  her  a  cold,  angry  look,  and  put  up  his  wrinkled,  clean- 
shaven cheek  for  her  to  kiss.  The  whole  expression  of  his 
face  told  her  that  their  conversation  of  the  morning  had  not 
been  forgotten,  that  his  mind  was  just  as  fully  made  up,  and 

*  Mon  cher,  avec  nog  500,000  Iiommes  de  trouper,  ii  serait  facUe  tTiwoir  un 
beau  stifle. 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  821 

that  only  the  presence  of  his  guests  prevented  him  from  say- 
ing the  same  thing  over  again. 

When  they  went  into  the  drawing-room  for  coffee,  the  older 
members  of  the  company  sat  down  together. 

Prince  Nikolai  Andreyitch  grew  more  animated,  and  ex- 
pressed his  mind  freely  in  regard  to  the  war  then  just  beginning. 
He  declared  that  our  wars  with  Bonaparte  had  hitherto  been 
unsuccessful,  and  would  be  so  long  as  we  tried  to  make  common 
cause  with  the  Germans,  and  meddle  with  European  affairs,  as 
we  were  compelled  to  do  by  the  peace  of  Tilsit.  There  was 
no  sense  in  our  battling  either  for  or  against  Austria.  Our  pol- 
icy lay  in  the  east ;  and,  as  far  as  Bonaparte  was  concerned,  we 
required  only  one  thing :  to  protect  our  frontier,  to  have  some 
firmness  in  our  policy,  and  never  to  let  him  dare  to  cross  the 
Bussian  frontier,  as  he  did  in  1807. 

"  And  how  is  it  possible  for  us  to  fight  against  the  French, 
prince  ?  "  asked  Count  Rostopchin.  "  Can  we  take  up  arms 
against  our  t-eachers  —  our  gods  ?  Look  at  our  young  men ! 
Look  at  our  young  ladies !  Our  gods  are  the  French !  our 
kingdom  of  heaven  is  Paris ! " 

He  had  raised  his  voice,  evidently  so  that  all  might  hear  him. 

"  Our  costumes  are  French ;  our  ideas  are  French ;  our 
sentiments  are  French.  You  put  out  Metivier  because  he  is 
a  Frenchman,  a  good-for-nothing  fellow ;  but  our  ladies  grovel 
before  him  on  their  very  knees.  And  last  evening,  at  a  party, 
out  of  five  ladies,  three  were  Roman  Catholics ;  and  these  were 
working  on  canvas  embroidery,  on  Sunday,  by  virtue  of  a  dis- 
pensation from  the  pope !  And  there  they  sat,  almost  naked, 
for  all  the  world  like  signboards  for  a  public  bath-house  —  if 
I  may  be  allowed  the  expression.  Ekh !  when  I  look  at  our 
young  dandies,  prince,  I  feel  inclined  to  take  the  cudgel  of 
Peter  the  Great  from  the  museum,  and  break  their  ribs  for 
them  in  good  old  Russian  style ;  that  would  put  an  end  to  all 
their  whimsies ! " 

All  were  silent.  The  old  prince,  with  a  smile  on  his  face, 
looked  at  Rostopchin,  and  nodded  his  head  in  assent. 

"  Well,  j)r(ishchaite,  —  good-by  ;  —  your  illustriousness,  take 
care  of  your  health,"  said  Rostopchin,  rising  with  the  abrupt 
motions  characteristic  of  him,  and  offering  his  hand. 

"  Good-by,  my  dear.*  You're  like  a  lute,  —  I  always  like  to 
hear  you,"  said  the  old  prince,  laying  his  hand  on  his  arm,  and 
offering  his  cheek  for  a  kiss. 

The  others  also  got  up  with  Rostopchin. 

*  PrasIichaX,  golxthchik* 
VOL.  2.— 21. 


322  WAR  AND  PEACE. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

The  Princess  Mariya,  as  she  sat  in  the  drawing-room  and 
listened  to  the  conversation  and  criticisms  of  the  old  men, 
understood  nothing  of  what  she  heard ;  her  sole  pre-occupation 
was  whether  these  guests  had  remarked  the  ill  will  that  her 
father  showed  toward  her.  She  had  not  even  noticed  the 
peciiliar  attentions  and  civilities  showed  her  all  through  the 
dinner-hour  by  Drubetskoi,  who  was  now  making  his  third 
visit  to  the  house. 

The  princess,  with  a  strangely  abstracted  and  questioning 
glance,  turned  to  Pierre,  who,  hat  in  hand  and  with  a  smiling 
face,  was  the  last  of  the  guests  to  come  and  pay  her  his  part- 
ing respects  after  the  old  prince  had  retired.  Thus  it  hap- 
pened the  two  were  left  together  in  the  drawing-room. 

"  May  I  stay  a  little  longer  ?  "  he  asked,  suiting  the  action 
to  the  word  by  depositing  his  corpulent  frame  on  an  easy- 
chair  near  the  Princess  Mariya. 

"  Oh,  yes,  certainly  ! "  replied  she.  Her  glance  seemed  to 
ask,  "  Have  you  remarked  anything  unusual  ?  " 

Pierre  was  now  in  a  happy  after-dinner  frame  of  mind.  He 
gazed  musingly  straight  forward,  and  smiled  gently.  "  Have 
you  known  that  young  man  long,  princess  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  What  young  man  ?  " 

"  Drubetskoi." 

"  No,  not  very  long." 

«  Well,  do  you  like  him  ?  " 

"  Yes,  he  is  a  pleasant  young  fellow.  Why  do  you  ask  ?  " 
said  the  princess,  her  mind  still  on  her  morning's  conversation 
with  her  father. 

"Because  I  have  made  a  discovery:  the  young  man  has 
come  on  leave  of  absence  from  Petersburg,  with  the  sole  and 
special  purpose  of  marrying  a  rich  wife." 

"  You  have  made  that  discovery  ?  "  exclaimed  the  Prinoess 
Mariya. 

"  Yes,"  pursued  Pierre,  with  a  smile ;  "  and  this  young  man 
so  manages  it  that  where  the  rich  girls  are  gathered  together, 
there  he  also  is  to  be  found !  He  is  now  undecided  which  to 
attack:  you,  or  Mademoiselle  Julie  Karaguine.  R  est  tr^ 
dssidu  auprh  d^elle — yes,  he's  very  attentive  to  her  "  — 

"  He  goes  there,  then  ?  " 

"Yes,  very  often.    And  do  you  know  the  new  way  of  mak- 


WAR  AND  PEACE,  323 

ing  love  ?  *'  inquired  Pierre,  with  a  cheery  smile,  evidently 
lapsing  into  that  jolly  spirit  of  good-humored  ridicule  for 
wnich  he  so  often  had  reproached  himself  in  his  diary. 

"  No,"  replied  the  princess. 

"  In  these  days,  in  order  to  please  the  young  ladies  of  Mos- 
cow, it  faut  etre  melaneolique.  Et  il  est  tres-melancoHqtie 
aupres  de  MadeTnoiselle  Kara^iiine,"  said  Pierre. 

"  Really  ? "  exclaimed  the  princess,  gazing  into  Pierre's 
good  face,  and  persistently  thinking  about  her  trials.  "  It 
would  be  so  much  easier,"  she  thought,  "  if  I  could  only  make 
up  my  mind  to  confide  in  some  one  all  my  thoughts  and  feel- 
ings. And  I  should  like  especially  to  tell  Pierre  everything. 
He  is  so  good  and  noble.  It  would  certainly  be  easier  for  me. 
He  would  give  me  his  advice." 

"  Would  you  marry  him  ?  "  asked  Pierre. 

"Oh,  good  gracious,  count!  there  are  times  when  I  would 
marry  any  one,"  suddenly  exclaimed  the  Princess  Mariya, 
unexpectedly  to  herself,  and  with  tears  in  her  voice.  "  Akh  ! 
how  hard  it  is  to  love  a  near  kinsman,  and  feel  that — no 
matter,  though,"  she  went  on  to  say  with  trembling  voice  — 
"you  cannot  do  anything  for  him  but  only  annoy  him,  and 
wnen  you  know  that  you  cannot  help  things  otherwise  —  then, 
there  is  one  thing,  only  one  thing,  to  do  —  to  go  away  j  but 
where  could  I  go?" 

"What  is  it  ?   What  is  the  matter  with  you,  princess  ? " 

But  the  princess,  without  being  able-  longer  to  control  her- 
self, burst  into  tears :  "  I  don't  know  what  is  the  matter  with 
me  to^ay.  Do  not  criticise  me ;  forget  what  I  have  said  to 
you ! " 

All  Pierre's  gayety  was  gone.  He  anxiously  questioned  the 
princess:  begged  her  to  tell  him  everything, — to  confide  her 
trials  in  him  ;  but  her  only  reply  was  to  beseech  him  to  forget 
what  she  had  said ;  that  she  herself  did  not  remember  what 
she  had  said,  and  that  she  had  no  trials  except  the  one  which 
he  knew  about  already :  that  Prince  Andrei's  marriage  threat- 
ened to  bring  about  a* quarrel  between  her  father  and  brother.- 

"  Have  you  heard  anything  about  the  Rostof s  ?  "  she  asked, 
for  the  purpose  of  diverting  the  conversation.  "I  am  told 
that  they  will  be  here  soon.  Andre,  also,  T  am  expecting  any 
day.     I  should  have  liked  for  them  to  meet  here." 

"  And  how  does  he  look  upon  the  matter,  now  ? "  asked 
Pierre,  meaning  by  the  pronoun  the  old  prince,  her  father. 
The  Princess  Mariya  shook  her  head. 

"  But  what  is  to  be  done  ?   The  year  will  be  up  now  in  a  few 


324  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

months.  And  this  can  never  be.  I  only  wish  I  could  spare 
my  brother  the  first  minutes.  I  wish  the  Rostofs  would  come 
very  soon.  I  hope  to  make  her  acquaintance.  You  have  known 
them  for  a  long  time,  have  you  not  ?"  asked  the  Princess  Ma- 
riya.  "  Tell  me,  with  your  hand  on  your  heart,  exafctly  the 
honest  truth ;  what  kind  of  a  girl  is  she,  and  how  do  you  like 
her  ?  I  want  the  whole  truth,  because  Andrei,  you  know,  takes 
such  a  tremendous  risk  in  doing  this  against  his  father's  will, 
that  I  should  like  to  know  just  how  it  is." 

A  dull  instinct  told  Pierre  that  in  this  repeated  demand  to 
hear  the  whole  truth  was  betrayed  the  Princess  Mariya's  ill 
will  toward  her  prospective  sister-in-law,  and  that  she  had  an 
idea  that  Pierre  would  not  approve  of  Prince  Andrei's  choice ; 
but  Pierre  told  her  not  so  much  what  he  thought  as  felt, 

"I  don't  know  how  to  answer  your  question,"  said  he,  red- 
dening without  any  reason.  "  I  really  don't  know  what  kind 
of  a  girl  she  is.  I  can  never  analyze  her.  She  is  fascinating. 
But  what  makes  her  so,  I  can't  tell  you ;  that  is  all  that.  I  can 
say  in  regard  to  her." 

The  Princess  Mariya  sighed,  and  the  expression  of  her  face 
said,  "Yes,  this  is  what  I  expected  and  feared." 

"Is  she  intellectual?"  asked  the  princess.  Pierre  delib- 
erated. 

"  I  think  not,"  said  he,  "but  perhaps  she  is.  She  does  not 
think  it  necessary  to  be  intellectual.  But,  on  the  other  hand, 
she  is  fascinating,  no  one  more  so."  The  Princess  Mariya 
again  shook  her  head  disapprovingly. 

"  Akh !  how  I  hope  that  I  shall  love  her !  ^  You  tell  her  so 
if  you  see  her  before  I  do." 

"  I  hear  that  they  will  be  here  in  a  few  days,"  said  Pierre, 

The  Princess  Mariya  confided  to  Pierre  her  plan  for  mak- 
ing the  acquaintance  of  her  prospective  sister-in-law  as  soon 
as  she  came  to  Moscow,  and  then  trying  to  reconcile  the  old 
prince  to  her. 

CHAPTER  V.  . 

Boris  had  not  succeeded  in  making  a  match  with  any  of  the 
rich  Petersburg  heiresses,  and  he  had  gone  to  Moscow  with 
the  same  object  in  view.  There  he  found  himself  undecided 
between  two  of  the  wealthiest  girls  in  town,  Julie  and  the 
Princess  Mariya. 

Although  the  Princess  Mariya,  in  spite  of  her  plain  features, 
seemed  to  him  more  attractive  than  Julie  Karagina,  still  there 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  325 

were  difficulties  in  the  way  of  paying  his  addresses  to  Bol- 
konsky^s  daughter.  At  his  last  meeting  with  her,  on  the  old 
prince's  name-day,  she  had  replied  to  all  his  tentative  remarks 
on  the  subject  of  the  feelings  so  at  haphazard  that  it  was  evi- 
dent she  had  not  heard  what  he  said. 

Julie,  on  the  other  hand,  received  his  attentions  only  too 
gladly,  though  in  a  way  peculiar  to  herself  alone.  Julie  was 
twenty-seven.  After  the  death  of  her  brothers  she  had  become 
very  rich.  She  was  now  very  far  from  being  a  beauty ;  but 
she  had  conceived  the  idea  that  not  only  was  she  as  pretty 
but  far  more  captivating  than  she  ever  had  been  before.  In 
this  illusion  she  was  sustained  by  the  facts  that,  in  the  first 
place,  she  had  become  a  very  rich  maiden,  and,  in  the  second 
place,  as  she  grew  older  and  older,  men  found  her  less  danger- 
ous, and  were  able  to  gather  round  her  with  more  freedom, 
since  they  felt  that  they  were  not  incurring  any  obligations 
in  taking  advantage  of  the  suppers,  receptions,  and  jolly  so- 
ciety in  general  that  frequented  her  house.  Men  who  ten 
years  before  would  have  thought  a  second  time  about  going 
every  day  to  a  house  where  there  was  a  young  girl  of  seven- 
teen, lest  they  should  compromise  her  and  get  entangled 
themselves,  now  unhesitatingly  appeared  there  daily,  and  treated 
her  not  as  a  marriageable  damsel  but  as  an  acquaintance  irre- 
spective of  sex. 

The  Karagins,  that  winter,  entertained  more  pleasantly  and 
hospitably  than  any  one  else  in  Moscow.  Besides  the  formal 
receptions  and  state  dinners,  they  every  day  entertained  a 
numerous  society,  especially  of  men,  who  ate  supper  at  mid- 
night and  broke  up  at  three  o'clock  in  the  mornup^.  Nor  was 
Julie  willing  to  miss  a  ball,  an  entertainment,  or  a  new  play 
at  the  theatre.  Her  toilets  were  always  in  the  height  of  the 
fashion.  But,  nevertheless,  Julie  pretended  to  be  disenchanted 
with  all  life ;  she  told  everybody  that  she  had  no  belief  in 
friendship,  or  in  love,  or  in  any  of  the  pleasures  of  this  world, 
and  hoped  for  peace  only  "yonder."  She  affected  the  tone  of 
a  maiden  who  has  endured  great  disappointment, — of  one,  for 
instance,  who  had  been  disappointed  in  the  man  she  loved,  or 
cruelly  deceived  in  him.  Although  nothing  of  the  sort  had 
ever  happened  to  her,  it  began  to  be  thought  that  such  was 
the  case,  and  she  herself  came  to  believe  that  her  sufferings  in 
life  had  been  grievous.  This  melancholia  did  not  stand  in  the 
way  of  her  enjoying  herself,  or  prevent  the  young  men  who 
came  to  her  house  from  having  a  delightful  time  there. 
Every  guest  who  went  there  paid  his  tribute  to  his  hostess's 


326  W^^  ^^^  PEACE. 

melancholic  mood,  and  then  fell  to  talking  about  the  things  of 
this  world,  and  dancing,  and  intellectual  games,  and  the  cap- 
ping of  verses,  —  or  botUs  rimes,  —  which  were  greatly  in 
vogue  at  the  Karagins'. 

Some  few  of  the  young  men,  Boris  among  them,  took  a 
deeper  interest  in  Julie's  melancholy  moods ;  and  with  these 
young  men  she  had  longer  and  more  confidential  conversations 
about  the  vanity  of  all  things  terrestrial,  and  she  showed  them  her 
albums,  filled  with  gloomy  drawings,  apothegms  and  couplets. 

Julie  treated  Boris  with  especial  favor ;  she  mourned  with 
him  over  his  lost  illusions;  she  offered  him  those  consola- 
tions of  friendship  which  she  was  so  well  able  to  offer,  having 
herself  suffered  so  much  in  life;  she  also  showed  him  her 
album.  Boris  made  a  sketch  of  two  trees  with  the  legend : 
Arbres  rustiques,  vos  sombres  rameaux  secouent  sur  mm  les  t&n^- 
bres  et  la  melancolie  —  "O  solitary  trees,  your  dark  boughs 
scatter  down  upon  me  gloom  and  melancholy.'  On  another 
page,  he  drew  the  picture  of  a  tomb  and  wrote,  — 

La  mort  est  s^courable  et  la  mort  est  tranquille  ! 
Afif  contre  les  douleurs  il  rCy  a  pas  d^ autre  aslle. 

'Tis  death  that  gives  us  succor,  death  that  gives  us  peace  I 
Alas  I  'tis  then  alone  that  earthly  sorrows  cease  ! 

Julie  declared  that  couplet  to  be  charming!  "There  is 
something  so  ravishing  in  the  smile  of  melancholy,"  said  she 
to  Boris,  quoting,  word  for  word,  a  passage  from  a  book  she 
was  reading :  "  'Tis  a  ray  of  light  falling  in  darkness,  a  shad- 
ow's difference  between  sorrow  and  despair,  affording  the  hope 
of  coming  cJfcsolation."  * 

Whereupon  Boris  wrote  for  her  these  lines :  — 

Aliment  de  poison  d'une  Ame  trap  sensible, 
Toi,  sans  qui  le  bonheur  me  serait  impossiblef 
Tendre  milancolie,  ah^  vietis  me  consoler ^ 
Viens  calmer  les  tourments  de  ma  tendre  retraite, 
Et  m^le  une  douceur  secrete 
A  cespleurSy  queje  sens  couler. 

Oh!  poisoned  aliment  of  souls  too  sensitive, 
Thou  tliat  alone  doth  make  it  sweet  for  me  to  live. 
Mild  melancholy,  come  !    I'hy  consolation  hring! 
The  torments  of  ray  gloomy  solitude,  oh,  calm! 
Mingle  thy  secret  soothing  balm 
With  tears  that  never  cease  to  spring. 

*  Hya  auelque  cftose  de  si  ravissant  dana  le  sourire  de  la  mHancoUe.  (Test 
un  rayon  ae  lumiire  dans  V ombre,  une  nuance  entre  la  dott/evr  et  U  dSs^tpoir^ 
qui  montre  la  consolation  possible. 


WAR  AND  PEACE,  S27 

Julie  played  on  her  harp,  for  Boris,  her  most  melancholy 
nocturnes.  Boris  read  aloud  to  her  "  Poor  Liza,"  ♦  and  more 
than  once  had  to  pause  in  his  reading  because  of  the  emotion 
which  overmastered  him. 

When  they  met  in  society,  Julie  and  Boris  exchanged 
glances  to  signify  that  they  were  the  only  people  in  the  world 
capable  of  understanding  and  appreciating  each  other. 

Anna  Mikhailovna,  who  was  a  frequent  visitor  at  the  Kara- 
gins',  and  always  managed  to  be  a  partner  with  Julie's  mother, 
took  especial  pains  to  procure  all  possible  information  in  regard 
to  Julie's  fortune  —  which  consisted  of  two  estates  in  the  vicin- 
ity of  Penza,  and  forest  lands  near  Nizhni  Novgorod.  Anna 
Mikhailovna,  with  humble  dependence  on  the  will  of  Provi- 
dence, and  with  deep  emotion,  looked  upon  the  etherealized 
melancholy  which  served  as  a  bond  between  her  son  and  the 
wealthy  Julie. 

"  Toujours  charmante  et  melancoliquey  cette  chere  JuliCj^  she 
would  say  to  the  daughter. 

"  Boris  says  that  here  in  your  house  he  finds  rest  for  his 
soul.  He  has  suffered  the  loss  of  so  many  illusions,  and  he  is 
80  sensitive,"  she  would  say  to  the  mother. 

"  Akh !  my  dear,  I  cannot  tell  you  how  devoted  I  am  to 
Julie  of  late,"  she  would  say  to  her  son.  "  And  who  could 
help  loving  her  ?  She  is  such  a  celestial  creature !  Akh ! 
Boris !  Boris !  '^  She  was  silent  for  a  minute.  "  And  how 
sorry  I  am  for  her  maman  !  "  she  went  on  to  say.  "  To-day 
she  was  showing  me  her  accounts  and  letters  from  Penza, 
where  they  have  colossal  estates ;  and  it  is  so  trying  for  her 
to  have  no  one  to  help  her :  they  cheat  her  so !  " 

Boris's  face  wore  an  almost  imperceptible  smile,  as  he 
listened  to  his  mother's  words.  He  was  quietly  amused  at  her 
transparent  shrewdness ;  but  he  listened  to  her,  and  sometimes 
asked  her  questions  in  regard  to  these  Penzensk  and  Nizhego- 
rodsky  properties. 

Julie  had  for  some  time^been  looking  for  a  proposal  from 
her  melancholy-souled  adorer,  and  she  was  ready  to  accept 
him.  But  some  secret  antipathy  toward  her ;  a  distaste  of  her 
evident  desire  to  get  married,  and  of  her  affectations ;  and  a 
feeling  of  horror  at  thus  practically  repudiating  the  bliss  of 
true  love,  still  kept  Boris  at  a  distance. 

*"By^dnaya  l/tza,"  —  "  Poor  Liza,"— a  famous  sentimental  romance 
written  bv  the  great  historian,  Nikolai  Mikhdilovitcli  Karamzin  (1766-1826) 
about  1792  ;  the  melancholy  seduction  and  suicide  of  tlie  fascinating  heroine 
being  responsible  for  countless  tears  shed  by  the  sympathetic  maidens  of 
those  days. 


828  WAR  AND  PEACE, 

His  leave  of  absence  was  now  drawing  to  a  close.  He  spent 
long  ITours,  and  every  Sunday,  at  the  Karagins' ;  and  every 
day,  when  he  came  to  think  the  matter  over,  he  would  decide 
that  his  proposal  should  take  place  on  the  morrow.  But 
when  he  was  in  Julie's  company,  and  saw  her  red  face  and 
chin,  almost  always  dusted  with  powder,  her  moist  eyes,  and 
the  expression  of  her  face,  which  seemed  ready,  at  a  moment's 
notice,  to  fly  from  melancholy  to  the  equally  unnatural  en- 
thusiasm and  rapture  of  wedded  bliss,  Boris  could  not  bring 
himself  to  utter  the  decisive  words :  although,  in  his  im^ina- 
tion,  he  had  for  some  time  looked  upon  himself  as  the  pro- 
spective master  of  the  Raragin  estates,  and  had  many  times 
over-spent  the  income  arising  therefrom. 

Julie  noticed  Boris's  infirmity  of  purpose,  and  it  sometimes 
occurred  to  her  that  he  had  an  antipathy  for  her ;  but  her 
feminine  vanity  quickly  restored  her  confidence,  and  she  would 
assure  herself  that  it  was  merely  his  love  that  made  him  so 
bashful.  Her  melancholia,  however,  was  beginning  to  change 
into  vexation ;  and  a  short  time  before  the  time  of  Boris's 
departure,  she  was  thinking  of  adopting  some  decisive  plan. 

Just  before  Boris's  leave  of  absence  drew  to  a  close,  Anatol 
Kuragin  made  his  appearance  in  Moscow ;  and,  as  a  matter 
of  course,  in  the  Karagins'  drawing-room ;  and  Julie,  abruptly 
arousing  from  her  melancholy,  became  very  cheerful,  and 
manifested  great  friendliness  toward  Kuragin. 

"  Mon  cher"  said  Anna  Mikhailovna  to  her  son,  "  I  know  on 
good  authority  that  Prince  Vasili  has  sent  his  son  to  Moscow 
to  make  a  match  with  Julie.*  I  am  so  fond  of  Julie  that  I 
should  be  very  sorry  for  her.  What  do  you  think  about  it, 
my  dear  ?  "  asked  Anna  Mikhailovna. 

Boris  was  thoroughly  humiliated  at  the  thought  of  being 
left  out  in  the  cold,  and  of  having  wasted  this  whole  month  in 
arduous,  melancholic  service  of  Julie,  and  of  seeing  another 
man  —  especially  such  an  idiot  as  Anatol  —  having  control  of 
that  income  from  the  Penzensk  estates,  which  he  was  already, 
in  his  imagination,  enjoying  and  prefiting  by.  He  went  to  the 
Karagins  with  a  full  determination  to  offer  himself.  Julie  met 
him  with  a  gay  and  careless  mien,  gave  him  a  merry  account 
of  what  a  good  time  she  had  enjoyed  at  the  ball  the  evening 
before,  and  asked  him  when  he  was  going  back. 

In  spite  of  the  fact  that  Boris  had  come  with  the  intention 
of  confessing  his  love,  and  had,  therefoi'C,  decided  to  be  ten- 

*  Je  sais  de  bonne  source  que  le  prince  Basile  envoie  9onJU$  a  Mosanipow 
lui/aire  epouter  Julie, 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  329 

derly  sentimental,  he  immediately  began,  in  a  tone  of  irrita- 
tion, to  complain  of  woman's  inconstancy :  pointing  out  how 
easy  it  was  for  women  to  shift  from*  gloom  to  glee  ;  and  that 
their  moods  depended  wholly  upon  the  one  who  happened  to  be 
dancing  attendance  upon  them.  Julie  took  offence  at  this,  and 
declared  that  he  was  right :  that  women  needed  variety,  and 
nothing  was  more  annoying  to  any  one  than  to  have  a  perpet- 
ual sameness. 

"Then,  I  should  advise  you"  —  began  Boris,  with  the  in- 
tention of  winging  a  sharp  retort ;  but  at  that  instant  came 
the  humiliating  thought  that  he  was  on  the  point  of  leaving 
Moscow  without  attaining  his  wished-for  end,  and  at  the  cost 
of  wasted  labor, — a  thing  to  which  he  was  unaccustomed.  He 
paused  in  the  middle  of  his  sentence,  dropped  his  eyes  to 
avoid  seeing  the  look  of  disagreeable  annoyance  and  indecision 
on  her  face,  and  said,  — 

"  However,  it  was  not  at  all  for  the  purpose  of  quarrelling 
with,  you  that  I  came  here.  On  the  contrary  "  —  He  looked  at 
her,  to  see  whether  she  would  encourage  him  to  proceed.  All 
expression  of  annoyance  had  suddenly  vanished,  and  her  rest- 
less, imploring  eyes  were  fixed  upon  him  with  greedy  expecta- 
tion. "  I  can  always  manage  so  as  to  keep  out  of  her  way," 
thought  Boris.     "  Here  I  am  in  for  it ;  might  as  well  finish." 

He  flushed  crimson  ;  raised  his  eyes  to  hers,  and  said,  — 

"  You  know  my  sentiments  toward  you "  —  There  was  no 
need  of  saying  more :  Julie's  face  had  become  radiant  with 
triumph  and  satisfaction ;  but  she  compelled  Boris  to  tell  her 
all  that  it  is  customaiy  to  say  in  such  circumstances  :  to  tell  her 
that  he  loved  her,  and  that  he  had  never  loved  any  one  else  so 
passionately.  She  knew  that,  in  exchange  for  her  Penzensk 
estates  and  Nizhegorodsky  forests,  she  had  a  right  to  exact 
this  ;  and  she  obtained  what  she  wished. 

The  young  couple,  with  no  further, thoughts  of  solitary  trees 
shedding  gloom  and  melancholy,  laid  their  plans  for  the  future 
establishment  of  a  magnificent  home  in  Petersburg,  made  calls, 
and  got  everything  ready  for  a  brilliant  wedding. 


CHAPTER   VI. 

Count  Ilya  Andreyevitch,  together  with  Natasha  and 
Sonya,  arrived  in  Moscow  toward  the  end  of  January.  The 
countess  was  still  ailing,  and  was  unable  to  travel ;  but  it  was 
out  of  the  question  to  wait  for  her  recovery ;  Prince  Andrei  was 


350  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

expected  in  Moscow  every  day ;  and,  besides,  it  was  important 
to  purchase  Natasha's  wedding  outfit ;  it  was  necessary  to  sell 
the  podmoskovnaya  estate ;  and  it  was  necessary  to  take  ad- 
vantage of  the  old  prince's  presence  in  Moscow,  in  order  that 
he  might  become  acquainted  with  his  future  daughter-in-law. 

The  Rostof s*  Moscow  house  had  not  been  warmed.  Besides, 
they  were  to  be  in  town  for  only  a  short  time,  and  the  coun- 
tess was  not  with  them ;  accordingly,  Ilya  Andreyitch  decided 
to  accept  the  hospitality  of  Marya  Dmitrievna  Akhrosimova, 
who  had  long  ago  urged  them  to  come  to  her. 

Late  one  evening,  the  four  coaches  on  runners,  conveying 
the  Rostofs,  drove  into  Marya  Dmitrievna's  courtyard,  on  the 
Old  Konyiishennaya  Street. 

Marya  Dmitrievna  lived  alone.  Her  daughter  was  married. 
All  of  her  sons  were  in  the  government  service.  She  was  just 
as  erect  as  ever ;  her  words  were  as  much  to  the  point ;  she 
always  expressed  her  opinion  to  every  one  in  a  loud  and  de- 
cided voice,  and  her  whole  personality  seemed  to  be  a  living 
reproach  against  all  weaknesses,  passions,  and  impulses,  the 
necessity  of  which  she  utterly  denied.  IVom  early  morning, 
dressed  in  her  jacket,  she  gave  personal  attention  to  the 
domestic  arrangements,  and  then  went  out  for  a  drive ;  if  it 
were  a  holy  day,  to  mass ;  and  thence  to  the  prisons  and  jails, 
where  she  had  business  that  she  never  mentioned  to  any  one. 

On  ordinary  days,  on  finishing  her  toilet,  she  received  appli- 
cants of  every  rank  and  condition  who  chanced  to  come  to  her 
door.  Her  cnarities  having  been  dispensed,  she  dined ;  and 
this  abundant  and  well-ordered  meal  was  always  shared  by 
three  or  four  guests;  after  dinner,  she  made  up  a  table  for 
Boston.  Late  in  the  evening,  she  had  newspapers  or  some 
new  book  read  aloud  to  her,  while  she  sat  witn  her  knitting. 
She  rarely  accepted  invitations,  and  if  she  ever  made  any 
exceptions  it  was  only  in*  favor  of  the  most  important  person- 
ages of  the  city. 

She  had  not  yet  retired  when  the  Rostofs  arrived ;  as  the 
door  into  the  hall  creaked  on  its  hinges,  and  admitted  the  trav- 
ellers and  their  retinue  of  servants,  together  with  a  rush  of 
cold  air,  Marya  Dmitrievna,  with  her  spectacles  toward  the  end 
of  her  nose,  came  and  stood  in  the  doorway,  her  head  erect, 
and  gazed  at  the  visitors  with  a  stem  and  solemn  face.  One 
might  have  thought  that  she  was  really  angry,  and  was  about 
to  turn  the  intruders  out,  if  she  had  not  been  heard  at  that 
very  instant  to  give  the  most  urgent  orders  in  regard  to  the 
disposition  of  her  guests  and  their  luggage. 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  331 

"The  count's  ?  — bring  them  this  way,"  said  she,  indicating 
certain  trunks,  and  not  stopping  to  greet  any  of  the  party. 
"The  young  ladies',  this  way  to  the  left!  —  Well,  and  what 
are  you  gaping  there  for  ?  "  she  cried  to  the  maids.  "Have  the 
samovar  got  ready.  —  Plumper  and  prettier  than  ever!"  she 
cried,  taking  possession  of  Natasha,  whose  face,  under  her 
hood,  was  all  rosy  with  the  cold.  "  Foo !  how  cold  you  are ! 
There,  get  off  your  wraps  as  quick  as  ever  you  can,"  she  cried 
to  the  count,  who  was  bending  over  to  kiss  her  hand.  "  You're 
frozen,  most  likely!  have  sotne  rum  put  in  with  the  tea? 
Sonyushka,  bon  jour  ?  "  said  she  to  Sonya,  showing  by  this 
French  phrase  and  the  pet  diminutive  her  rather  condescend- 
ing and  yet  affectionate,  relationship  to  the  girl. 

When  they  had  taken  off  their  wraps,  and  put  themselves 
to  rights  after  their  journey,  they  gathered  round  the  tea-table, 
and  Marya  Dmitrievna  kissed  them  all  in  turn. 

"  I  am  right  glad  that  you  have  come,  and  that  you  have  put 
up  at  my  house,"  said  she.  "  It's  high  time,"  she  went  on, 
giving  Natasha  a  significant  look.  "  The  old  man  is  here,  and 
his  son  is  expected  from  day  to  day.  You  must,  you  certainly 
must,  make  his  acquaintance.  Well,  we'll  talk  about  all  this 
by  and  by,"  she  added,  giving  Sonya  a  look,  as  much  as  to  say 
that  she  did  not  care  to  talk  about  this  in  her  presence.  *^Now, 
listen ! "  said  she,  addressing  the  count.  "  What  are  your  plans 
for  to-morrow  ?  Whom  will  you  send  for  ?  Shinshin  ?  "  She 
doubled  over  one  finger.  "Then,  that  snivelling  Anna  Mi- 
khailovna.  —  Two.  She  and  her  son  are  here.  Son's  to  be 
married.  Then,  Bezukhoi,  I  suppose?  And  he  and  his  wife 
are  here.  He  ran  away  from  her,  but  she  came  traipsing  after 
him.  He  dined  with  me  on  Wednesday.  Well,  then,  and 
these  ?  "  she  indicated  the  young  ladies.  "  I  will  take  them  to- 
morrow to  the  Iverskaya  chapel,  and  then  to  Aubert-Chalme's. 
Of  course,  everything  will  have  to  be  got  new  for  them.  Don't 
judge  by  me  1  Such  sleeves  they  wear  these  days !  Recently, 
the  young  Princess  Irena  Vasilyevna  came  to  call  upon  me : 
she  was  a  marvel  to  see ;  she  had  sleeves  like  two  barrels  on 
her  arms.  You  see,  there's  some  new  fashion  every  day.  And 
what  business  have  you  on  hand  ?  **  she  asked,  turuing  sternly 
upon  the  count. 

"Everything  in  the  quickest  possible  time,"  replied  the 
count.  "  To  buy  the  girls'  duds,  and  to  find  a  purchaser  for 
my  podmoskovnaya  land  and  house.  And  so,  if  you  will 
allow  me,  I  will  tear  myself  away  for  a  little  while,  and  slip 
off  to  Marinskoye  for  a  day,  and  leave  my  girls  with  you." 


332  WAR  AND  PEACE, 

"Very  good^  very  good;  they'll  be  safe  with  me.  They 
couldn't  be  safer  with  the  Orphans'  Aid  Society.*  I'll  take 
them  wherever  they  need  to  go,  and  scold  them,  and  spoil  them 
with  flattery,"  said  Marya  Dmitrievna,  stroking  with  her  big 
hand  the  cheek  of  her  favorite  god-daughter,  Natasha. 

The  following  morning  they  went  to  pray  before  the  Iver- 
skaya  Virgin,  and  to  see  Mademoiselle  Aubert-Chalme,  who 
stood  in  such  awe  of  Marya  Dmitrievna  that,  in  order  to  get 
rid  of  her  as  soon  as  possible,  she  would  always  sell  her  goods 
at  a  positive  loss.  Marya  Dmitrievna  ordered  there  the  larger 
part  of  the  trousseau.  On  their  return,  she  drove  everybody 
else  out  of  the  room,  and  called  Natasha  to  her  arm-chair. 

"Now,  then,  we  can  have  a  talk.  I  congratulate  you  on 
your  choice.  You  have  secured  a  fine  young  man.  I  am  glad 
for  you.  I  have  known  him  ever  since  he  was  so  high."  She 
put  her  hand  an  arshin  f  from  the  floor.  Natasha  colored  with 
pleasure.  "  I  am  fond  of  him  and  of  all  his  family.  Now, 
listen  !  You  know  very  well  that  the  old  Prince  Nikolai  is 
very  averse  to  having  his  son  marry.  A  whimsical  old  man ! 
However,  Prince  Andrei  is  not  a  child,  and  his  permission  is 
not  necessary ;  still,  it  is  not  pleasant  to  enter  a  family  against 
their  will.  We  must  act  quietly  and  with  tact.  You  are 
clever ;  we  will  manage  to  bring  him  round  where  he  ought  to 
be.  You  must  accomplish  it  by  your  sweetness  and  cleverness. 
That's  all  it  requires,  and  it  will  come  out  all  right." 

Natasha  made  no  reply,  —  from  shyness,  Marya  Dmitrievna 
supposed^  but  in  reality  because  it  was  annoying  to  Natasha 
that  any  one  should  meddle  with  her  love-afPair  with  Prince 
Andrei ;  for  it  seemed  to  her  so  entirely  above  and  beyond  all 
ordinary  human  concerns,  that  no  one  else,  in  her  opinion,  could 
imderstand  it.  She  loved  and  admired  Prince  Andrei  alone ; 
he  loved  her,  and  was  coming  in  a  few  days,  and  would  make 
her  his.     That  was  all-sufficient. 

"  You  see,  I  have  known  him  for  a  long  time,  and  Mashenka, 
also,  your  future  sister-in-law.  I  am  fond  of  her,  in  spite  of  the 
proverb  about  husband's  sisters,  t  She  would  not  hurt  a  fly.  She 
asked  me  to  introduce  her  to  you.  You  and  your  father  must  go 
there  to-morrow.  Be  sure  to  be  very  sweet  to  her,  for  you  are 
younger  than  she  is.  Before  your  friend  comes  you  will  have 
already  become  acquainted  with  his  sister  and  his  father,  and  they 
will  have  grown  fond  of  you.   Am  I  not  right  ?   Isn't  that  best  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  replied  Natasha,  with  little  heartiness. 

•  Opekunsky  Sovy^t.  f  2.33  feet. 

}  ZalovkU  kalatovkij  pob^f  galovki :  Husbands'  sisters  ue  chnm-sticka 
(wranglers)  whereby  heads  are  broken. 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  883 


CHAPTER  VIL 

On  the  following  day,  by  Marya  Dmitrievna's  advice  Count 
Ilya  Andreyitch  and  Natasha  went  to  call  at  Prince  Bolkonsky 's. 
The  count,  in  anything  but  a  happy  frame  of  mind,  made  ready 
for  this  call ;  in  fact,  he  felt  terribly  about  it.  He  remembered 
too  well  his  last  encounter  with  the  old  prince,  at  the  time  of 
the  mobilizing  of  the  militia,  when,  in  answer  to  his  invitation 
to  a  dinner-party,  he  had  received  an  angry  reprimand  for  not 
having  furnished  his  full  quota  of  men. 

Natasha,  however,  having  put  on  her  best  gown,  was  in  the 
most  radiant  spirits.  "  They  cannot  help  being  fond  of  me," 
she  said  to  herself.  "  Every  one  likes  me,  and  I  am  so  willing 
to  do  for  them  all  they  coiUd  wish !  I  am  so  willing  to  love 
him  because  he  is  his  father,  and  to  love  her  because  she  is  his 
sister,  that  they  cannot  fail  to  love  me." 

They  drove  up  to  the  gloomy  old  house  on  Vozdvizhenka 
Street,  and  went  into  the  entry. 

"Well,  God  have  mercy  on  us ! "  exclaimed  the  count,  half 
in  jest,  half  in  earnest ;  but  Natasha  observed  that  her  father 
was  very  much  agitated  as  he  hastened  into  the  ante-room  and 
asked,  in  a  timid,  faltering  voice,  if  the  prince  and  the  princess 
were  at  home.  After  their  names  had  been  sent  in,  the  prince's 
servants  seemed  to  be  thrown  into  great  perplexity.  The  foot- 
man, who  had  hurried  off  to  announce  them,  was  stopped  by 
another  footman  at  the  drawing-room  door,  and  the  two  began 
to  whisper  together.  A  chambermaid  came  hurrying  into  the 
hall,  and  she  also  had  something  to  say  to  them,  in  reference  to 
the  princess.  Finally  a  stem-faced,  elderly  footman  approached 
the  ErOstofs  and  announced  that  the  old  prince  was  unable  to 
receive  them,  but  the  princess  would  be  glad  to  see  them. 

Mademoiselle  Bourienne  first  came  to  receive  the  visitors. 
She  met  them  with  more  than  ordinary  politeness,  and  conducted 
them  to  the  princess.  The  princess,  agitated  and  nervous,  her 
face  covered  with  crimson  patches,  hastened  forward,  stepping 
heavily,  and  vainly  endeavoring  to  appear  calm  and  dignified. 

At  first  sight  Natasha  did  not  please  her.  It  seemed  to  her 
that  she  was  too  fashionably  dressed,  too  frivolous,  flighty,  and 
conceited.  The  Princess  Mariya  did  not  realize  that  even  be- 
fore seeing  her  future  sister-in-law  she  was  prejudiced  against 
her  through  an  involuntary  envy  of  her  beauty,  youth,  and  hap- 
piness, and  jealousy  of  her  brother's  love  for  her.    Over  and 


884  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

above  these  obscure  feelings  of  antipathy,  the  Princess  Mariya 
was  still  more  agitated,  from  the  fact  that  when  the  Bostofs 
were  announced  the  prince  had  shouted  at  the  top  of  his  voice 
that  he  would  not  have  anything  to  do  with  them ;  that  the 
Princess  Mariya  might  receive  them  if  she  so  desired,  but  that 
they  should  not  come  into  his  presence.  The  princess  deter- 
mined to  receive  them,  but  she  was  afraid  lest  at  any  minute 
the  prince  might  perform  some  act  of  rudeness,  since  he  seemed 
greatly  stirred  up  by  the  Rostofs'  arrival. 

"I  have  brought  my  little  songstress,  my  dear  princess," 
said  the  count  with  a  bow  and  a  scrape,  and  looking  round 
anxiously,  as  though  he  were  afraid  of  the  old  prince  appear- 
ing on  the  scene.  "  I  am  very  anxious  for  you  to  become  ac- 
quainted. ...  I  am  sorry,  very  sorry,  that  the  prince  is  ill." 
And,  after  making  a  few  commonplace  remarks,  he  got  up, 
saying,  "  If  you  will  excuse  me,  princess,  I  will  leave  my  Na- 
tasha with  you  for  a  brief  quarter  of  an  hour,  while  I  slip  out 
and  call  on  Anna  Semyonovna,  who  lives  only  a  couple  of  steps 
from.  here.     I  will  come  back  for  her." 

Ilya  Andreyitch,  as  he  afterwards  told  his  daughter,  con- 
ceived this  master-stroke  of  subtile  diplomacy  for  the  purpose 
of  giving  the  future  sisters-in-law  a  chance  to  get  better  ac- 
quainted ;  but  he  had  another  reason  beside,  which  was  that  he 
might  escape  the  possibility  of  meeting  the  prince.  This  rear 
son  he  did  not  confess  to  his  daughter,  but  Natasha  perceived 
this  timidity  and  anxiety  of  her  father's,  and  felt  abused.  She 
blushed  for  him,  and  was  still  more  annoyed  with  herself  for 
having  blushed ;  and  she  looked  straight  at  the  princess  with 
a  defiant,  challenging  expression,  that  seemed  to  imply  that 
there  was  nothing  she  was  afraid  of.  The  princess  told  the 
count  that  he  was  perfectly  excusable,  and  only  hoped  that  he 
would  make  his  stay  at  Anna  Semyonovna's  as  long  as  possible. 
Accordingly,  Ilya  Andreyitch  took  his  departure. 

Mademoiselle  Bourienne,  in  spite  of  the  anxious,  beseeching 
glances  given  her  by  the  Princess  Mariya,  who  was  anxious  to 
have  a  confidential  talk  with  Natasha,  did  not  see  fit  to  leave 
the  room,  and  kept  up  a  steady  stream  of  chatter  about  the  de- 
lights of  Moscow,  and  the  theatres.  Natasha  was  piqued  by  the 
confusion  that  had  occurred  in  the  reception-room,  by  her 
father's  cowardice,  and  by  the  unnatural  tone  affected  by  the 
princess,  who,  it  seemed  to  her,  felt  that  it  was  an  act  of  con- 
descension to  receive  her,  and,  consequently,  everything  gave 
her  a  disagreeable  impression.  The  Princess  Mariya  dis- 
pleased her.    She  thought  she  was  very  plain,  stubborn,  and 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  886 

unsympathetic.  Natasha  suddenly  underwent  a  moral  shrink- 
ing, as  it  were,  and,  in  spite  of  herself,  assumed  such  a  reckless 
tone  that  the  Princess  Mariya  was  still  further  alienated  from  her. 

After  five  minutes  of  a  labored  and  artificial  conversation, 
slippered  feet  were  heard  rapidly  approaching.  Into  the 
Princess  Mariya's  face  came  a  sudden  look  of  dismay.  The 
door  opened,  and  the  old  prince  came  in,  dressed  in  a  white 
night^p  and  dressing-gown. 

"Akh!  stiddruini/a"  he  exclaimed;  ^^ suddruin^/a,  countess 
—  Countess  Rostova,  if  I  am  not  mistaken  —  I  beg  your  par- 
don, I  beg  your  pardon.  —  I  did  not  know,  svdaruinya,  'fore 
Grod  I  did  not  know  that  you  were  honoring  us  with  your  pres- 
ence. I  was  coming  to  see  my  daughter,  which  explains  this 
costume.  1  beg  you  to  pai*don  it. — 'Fore  God  I  did  not  know," 
he  said  for  the  second  time,  in  such  an  unnatural  tone,  laying 
such  a  special  stress  on  the  word  "  God,"  and  speaking  so  dis- 
agreeably, that  the  Princess  Mariya  got  up,  and  dropped  her 
eyes,  not  daring  to  look  either  at  her  father  or  at  Natasha. 
Natasha  got  up  and  then  sat  down  again,  and  likewise  knew 
not  what  to  do.  Only  Mademoiselle  Bourienne  wore  a  pleasant 
smile. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon.  I  beg  your  pardon.  'Fore  God  I  did 
not  know,"  grumbled  the  old  prince,  and,  after  staring  at  Na- 
tasha from  head  to  foot,  he  left  the  room.  Mademoiselle  Bouri- 
enne was  the  first  to  recover  self-possession  after  this  appari- 
tion, and  she  began  to  talk  about  the  prince's  failing  health. 
Natasha  and  the  princess  looked  at  each  other  without  speaking, 
and  the  longer  they  looked  at  each  other  without  expressing 
what  they  ought  to  have  said,  the  more  they  were  confirmed  in 
their  mutual  dislike. 

When  the  count  returned  Natasha  made  an  ill-mannered 
display  of  relief,  and  immediately  prepared  to  take  her  depar- 
ture. At  this  moment  she  almost  hated  this  dried-up  old 
princess,  who  by  her  silence  had  put  her  in  such  an  awkward 
position,  and  who,  in  half  an  hour's  talk  with  her,  had  not 
once  mentioned  Prince  Andrei.  "Of  course  I  can't  be  the 
first  to  speak  of  him  in  the  presence  of  that  Frenchwoman," 
said  Natasha  to  herself. 

The  Princess  Mariya,  at  the  same  time,  was  tormented  by  a 
similar  compunction.  She  knew  that  it  was  her  duty  to  say 
something  to  Natasha;  but  she  found  it  impossible,  both  because 
Mademoiselle  Bourienne's  presence  embarrassed  her,  and  be- 
cause she  herself  did  not  know  what  made  it  so  difficult  to 
speak  on  the  coming  marriage.    After  the  count  had  already 


336  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

left  the  room  the  Princess  Mariya  went  to  Natasha  with  hurried 
steps,  seized  her  hand,  and  with  a  deep  sigh  said,  "Wait  a  mo- 
ment, I  must " — Natasha  gave  the  Princess  Mariya  a  satirical 
glance,  though  she  could  not  have  told  what  made  her  do  so, 
and  listened.  "  My  dear  Nathalie,"  said  the  Princess  Mariya, 
"  you  must  know  I  am  delighted  my  brother  has  found  happi- 
ness." She  paused  with  a  consciousness  that  she  was  not  tell- 
ing the  truth.  Natasha  noticed  this  pause,  and  suspected  the 
cause  of  it. 

"  I  think,  princess,  that  it  is  not  a  propitious  time  to  speak 
of  this,"  saicl  Natasha,  with  an  appearance  of  outward  dignity 
and  hauteur,  while  the  tears  almost  choked  her. 

"  What  have  I  said  ?  what  have  I  said  ?  "  she  wondered,  as 
soon  as  she  left  the  room. 

That  day  they  waited  for  Natasha  a  long  time  at  dinner. 
She  was  sitting  in  her  room,  sobbing  like  a  child,  blowing  her 
nose,  and  then  beginning  to  sob  again.  Sonya  stood  beside 
her,  and  kissed  her  on  the  hair. 

"Natasha,  what  is  there  to  cry  about  ? "  she  asked.  "  Why 
should  you  care  about  them  ?    It  will  all  pass  over,  Natasha.'* 

"  No  ;  if  you  only  knew  how  humiliating  it  was !  —  I  was 
just  like  "  — 

"Don't  speak  of  it,  Natasha,  Of  course  you  were  not  to 
blame,  then  why  should  you  let  it  trouble  you  ?  Kiss  me," 
said  Sonya. 

Natasha  lifted  her  head  and  kissed  her  friend  on  the  lips, 
laying  her  tear-wet  face  next  hers. 

"  I  cannot  tell  you.  I  do  not  know.  —  No  one  is  to  blame," 
said  Natasha.  "  If  any  one  is,  I  am.  But  all  this  is  terribly 
painful.     Akh !  why  does  he  not  come  ?  " 

She  went  down  to  dinner  with  reddened  eyes.  Marya  Dmi- 
trievna,  who  had  learned  how  the  Kostofs  had  been  received  at 
the  prince's,  pretended  to  pay  no  attention  to  Natasha's  dis- 
consolate face,  and  jested  in  loud  and  eager  tones  with  the 
count  and  her  other  guests. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

That  evening  the  Rostof s  went  to  the  opera,  Marya  Dmi- 
trievna  having  secured  them  tickets.  Natasha  felt  no  desire  to 
go,  but  it  was  impossible  for  her  to  refuse  her  hostess's  kind- 
ness, which  had  been  designed  expressly  for  her  pleasure. 
When,  after  she  was  already  dressed,  and  had  gone  into  the 


WAR  AND 'PEACE.  887 

parlor  to  wait  for  her  father,  she  surveyed  herself  in  the  great 
pier-glass,  and  saw  how  pretty,  how  very  pretty,  she  was,  she 
felt  even  more  melancholy  than  before,  but  her  melancholy 
was  mingled  with  a  feeling  of  sweet  and  passionate  love. 

"  Bozhe  mot !  if  he  were  only  here  I  should  not  be  so  stupidly 
shy  before  him  as  I  was  before.  I  would  throw  my  arms 
around  him  and  cling  close  to  him,  and  make  him  look  at  me 
with  those  deep,  penetrating  eyes  of  his,  with  which  he  has  so 
often  looked  at  me ;  and  then  I  would  make  him  laugh,  as  he 
laughed  then,  and  his  eyes  —  how  plainly  I  can  see  his  eyes 
even  now,"  said  Natasha  to  herself.  "  And  what  do  I  care  for 
his  father  and  his  sister  ?  I  love  him.  I  love  him,  him  alone, 
with  his  dear  face  and  eyes,  with  his  smile,  like  that  of  a  man 
and  like  that  of  a  child  too.  —  No,  it  is  better  not  to  think  about 
it,  to  forget  him,  and  to  forget  that  time,  too,  absolutely.  I 
cannot  endure  this  suspense.  I  shall  be  crying  again,"  —  and 
she  turned  away  from  the  mirror,  exercising  all  her  self-con- 
trol not  to  burst  into  tears.  "  And  how  can  Sonya  be  so  calm 
and  unconcerned  in  her  love  for  Nikolenka,  and  wait  so  long 
and  patiently  ?  "  she  wondered,  as  she  saw  her  cousin  coming 
toward  her,  also  in  full  dress,  and  with  her  fan  in  her  hand. 
"  No,  she  is  entirely  different  from  me.     I  cannot." 

Natasha  at  that  moment  felt  herself  so  full  of  passion  and 
tenderness  that  it  was  not  enough  to  love,  and  to  know  that 
she  was  loved.  What  she  wanted  now,  at  this  instant,  was  to 
throw  her  arms  around  her  lover's  neck,  and  speak  to  him,  and 
hear  him  speak  those  words  of  love  of  which  her  heart  was 
full.       . 

As  she  rode  along  in  the  carriage,  sitting  next  to  her  father, 
and  dreamily  looking  at  the  lamp-lights  that  flashed  through 
the  frost-covered  windows,  she  felt  still  deeper  in  love,  and 
still  more  melancholy  than  ever,  and  she  quite  forgot  with 
whom  and  where  she  was  going. 

Their  carriage  fell  into  the  long  line,  and  the  wheels  slowly 
creaked  over  the  snow  as  they  drew  up  to  the  steps  of  the 
theatre.  The  two  girls  gathered  up  their  skirts  and  quickly 
jumped  out ;  the  count  clambered  down,  supported  by  the  foot- 
men, and,  making  their  way  through  the  throng  of  ladies  and 
gentlemen  and  programme-venders,  the  three  went  into  the  cor- 
ridor that  led  to  their  box.  Already  the  sounds  of  music  were 
heard  through  the  closed  doors. 

"Nathalie,  your  hair,"  whispered  Sonya  in  French.  The 
kapelldiener,  hastening  past  the  ladies,  politely  opened  their 
box  door.  The  music  sounded  louder,  the  brightly  lighted 
V0i^2.— 22. 


S38  ^^^  ^^^  PEACE. 

rows  of  boxes  occupied  by  ladies  with  bared  shoulders  and 
arms,  and  the  parterre  filled  with  brilliant  uniforms,  dazzled 
their  eyes.  A  lady  who  entered  the  adjoining  box  shot  a 
glance  of  feminine  envy  at  Natasha.  The  curtain  was  still 
down,  and  the  orchestra  was  playing  the  overture. 

Natasha,  shaking  out  her  train,  went  forward  with  Sonya 
and  took  her  seat,  glancing  at  the  brightly  lighted  boxes  on 
the  opposite  side  of  the  house.  The  sensation,  which  she  had 
not  experienced  for  a  long  time,  of  having  hundreds  of  eyes 
staring  at  her  bare  arms  and  neck,  affected  her  all  at  once  with 
mixed  pleasure  and  discomfort,  and  called  up  a  whole  swarm 
of  recollections,  desires,  and  emotions  associated  with  that 
sensation. 

Natasha  and  Sonya,  both  remarkably  pretty  girls,  and  Count 
Ilya  Andreyitch,  who  had  not  been  seen  for  a  long  time  in 
Moscow,  naturally  attracted  general  attention.  Moreover,  every 
one  had  a  general  notion  that  Natasha  was  engaged  to  marry 
Prince  Andrei,  and  everybody  knew  that  ever  since  the  en- 
gagement the  Rostof  s  had  been  residing  at  their  country  estate ; 
therefore  they  looked  with  much  curiosity  at  the  "  bride  "  of 
one  of  the  most  desirable  men  in  Russia. 

Natasha's  beauty,  as  everybody  told  her,  had  improved  dar- 
ing their  stay  in  the  country,  and  that  evening,  owing  to  her 
excited  state  of  mind,  she  was  extraordinarily  beautiful.  No 
one  could  have  failed  to  be  struck  by  her  exuberance  of  life 
and  beauty,  and  her  complete  indifference  to  everything  going 
on  around  her.  Her  dark  eyes  wandered  over  the  throng,  not 
seeking  for  any  one  in  particular,  and  her  slender  arm,  bare 
above  the  elbow,  leaned  on  the  velvet  rim  of  the  box,  while, 
with  evident  unconsciousness  of  what  she  was  doing,  she 
crumpled  her  programme,  folding  and  unfolding  it  in  time  with 
the  orchestra. 

"Look,  there's  Alenina,"  said  Sonya,  "with  her  mother,  I 
think." 

*J  Saints !  *  Mikhail  Kiriluitch  has  grown  fat,  though,"  ex- 
claimed the  old  count. 

"See,  there's  our  Anna  Mikhailovna.  What  kind  of  a  head- 
dress has  she  on  ?  " 

"  There  are  the  Karagins,  and  Boris  with  them.  Evidently 
enough,  an  engaged  couple.  —  Drubetskoi  must  have  proposed." 

"What!  didn't  you  know  it?  'Twas  announced  to^y," 
said  Shinshin,  coming  into  their  box. 

Natasha  looked  in  the  same  direction  that  her  father 

•  Bdtyu9hki,  —  Mtendly,  "  little  faUiei»,*» 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  $89 

looking,  and  saw  Jolie,  who,  with  a  string  of  pearls  around  her 
fat  red  neck,  —  covered  with  powder,  as  Natasha  knew  well, 
— was  sitting  next  her  mother  with  a  radiantly  happy  face. 
Behind  them  could  be  seen  Boris's  handsome  head,  with  sleekly 
brushed  hair.  He  was  leaning  over  so  that  his  ear  was  close 
to  Julie's  mouth,  and  as  he  looked  askance  at  the  Bostofs  he 
was  saying  something  to  his  ^^  bride." 

"  They  are  talking  about  us,  —  about  me,"  thought  Katasha, 
"and  she's  probably  jealous  of  me,  and  he  is  trying  to  calm  her. 
They  need  not  worry  about  it.  If  they  only  knew  how  little 
I  cared  about  them ! " 

Behind  them  sat  Anna  Mikhailovna,  festive  and  blissful, 
and  wearing  her  habitual  expression  of  utter  resignation  to 
God's  will.  Their  box  was  redolent  of  that  atmosphere  char- 
acteristic of  a  newly  engaged  couple,  which  Natasha  knew  and 
loved  so  well.  She  turned  away,  and  suddenly  all  the  humiliat- 
ing circumstances  of  her  morning  visit  recurred  to  her  memory. 

"What  right  has  he  not  to  be  willing  to  I'eceive  me  as  a 
relation  ?  Akh  !  I'd  best  not  think  about  this,  at  least  not  till 
he  comes  back,"  said  she  to  herself,  and  she  began  to  scan  the 
faces  of  strangers  or  acquaintances  in  the  parterre. 

In  the  front  row,  in  the  very  middle  of  the  house,  leaning 
his  back  against  the  railing,  stood  Dolokhof  in  Pei^sian  cos- 
tume, with  his  curly  hair  combed  back  into  a  strange  and 
enormous  ridge.  He  was  standing  in  full  view  of  the  whole 
theatre,  knowing  that  he  was  attracting  the  attention  of  every- 
body in  the  house,  yet  looking  as  unconcerned  as  though  he 
were  in  the  privacy  of  his  own  room.  Around  him  were 
gathered  a  throng  of  the  gilded  youth  of  Moscow,  and  it  was 
evident  that  he  was  their  leader. 

Count  Uya  Andreyitch,  with  a  smile,  nudged  the  blushing 
Sonya,  and  called  her  attention  to  her  former  suitor. 

"  Did  you  recognize  him  ?  and  where  did  he  turn  up  from  ?  " 
asked  the  count  of  Shinshin.  "  He  had  disappeared  entirely, 
had  he  not  ?  " 

"Yes,  completely,"  replied  Shinshin.  "While  he  was  in 
the  Caucasus  he  deserted,  and  they  say  he  became  minister 
to  some  reigning  prince  in  Persia.  After  that  he  killed  the 
Shah's  brother,  and  now  all  the  young  ladies  of  Moscow  have 
lost  their  wits  over  him.  Dololwff  le  JFersan,  and  that's  the 
end  of  it.  Here  with  us  there's  nothing  to  be  done  without 
Dolokhof.  They  swear  by  him.  He  is  made  a  subject  of  invi- 
tation, as  though  he  were  a  sterlet,"  said  Shinshin.  "  Dolokhof 
and  Anatol  Kuragin  have  turned  the  heads  of  all  our  young 
ladies." 


340  ^^AR  AND  PEACE. 

Just  then  into  the  next  box  came  a  tall,  handsome  lady  with 
a  tremendous  plait  of  hair,  and  a  great  display  of  plump  white 
shoulders  and  neck,  around  which  she  wore  a  double  string  of 
large  pearls.  She  was  a  long  time  in  settling  herself,  with  a 
great  rustling  of  her  stiff  silk  dress. 

Natasha  found  herself  involuntarily  gazing  at  that  neck, 
those  shoulders  and  pearls,  and  that  head-dress,  and  she  was 
amazed  at  their  beauty.  Just  as  Natasha  was  taking  a  second 
look  at  her,  the  lady  glanced  round,  and,  fixing  her  eyes  on 
Count  Ilya  Andreyitch,  nodded  her  head  and  smiled. 

It  was  the  Countess  Bezukhaya,  Pierre's  wife. 

Ilya  Andreyitch,  who  knew  every  one  in  society,  leaned  over 
and  spoke  with  her.  ''  Have  you  been  here  long,  countess  ?  " 
he  inquired.  "  I'm  coming  in,  I'm  coming  in  soon  to  kiss  your 
hand.  I'm  in  town  on  business,  and  have  got  my  girls  with 
me.  They  say  Semyonova  plays  her  part  superbly,"  said  Ilya 
Andreyitch.  "  I  hope  Count  Piotr  Kirillovitch  has  not  entirely 
forgotten  us.     Is  he  here  ?  " 

''  Yes,  he  was  intending  to  come,"  said  Ellen,  and  she  gave 
Natasha  a  scrutinizing  look. 

Count  Ilya  Andreyitch  again  sat  back  in  his  place.  *^  Isn't 
she  pretty,  though  ?  "  asked  he  of  Natasha. 

"  A  perfect  marvel,"  replied  the  latter.  "  I  could  understand 
falling  in  love  with  her." 

By  this  time  the  last  notes  of  the  overture  were  heard,  and 
the  baton  of  the  kapellmeister  rapped  upon  the  stand.  Those 
gentlemen  who  were  in  late  slipped  down  to  their  places,  and 
the  curtain  rose. 

As  soon  as  the  curtain  went  up  silence  reigned  in  the^parterre 
and  the  boxes,  and  all  the  gentlemen,  young  and  old,  whether 
in  uniforms  or  in  civilian's  dress,  and  all  the  ladies,  with 
precious  stones  glittering  on  their  bare  bosoms,  with  eager  ex- 
pectation turned  their  attention  to  the  stage. 

Natasha  also  tried  to  look. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

Smooth  boards  formed  the  centre  of  the  stage,  on  the  sides 
stood  painted  canvases  representing  trees,  in  the  background 
a  cloth  was  stretched  out  on  boards,  in  the  foreground  girls  in 
red  bodices  and  white  petticoats  were  sitting  around.  One, 
who  was  exceedingly  stout,  wore  a  white  silk  dress.  She 
sat  by  herself  on  a  low  footstool,  to  the  back  of  which  was 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  341 

glued  green  cardboard.  They  were  all  singing  something. 
After  they  had  finished  their  chorus  the  girl  in  white  advanced 
toward  the  prompter's  box,  and  a  man  in  silk  tights  on  his 
stout  le^s,  and  with  a  feather  and  a  ds^ger,  joined  her,  and 
began  to  sing  and  wave  his  arms. 

The  man  in  the  tights  sang  alone,  then  she  sang,  then  they 
were  both  silent.  The  orchestra  played,  and  the  man  began 
to  turn  down  the  lingers  on  the  girl's  hand,  evidently  waiting 
for  the  beat  when  they  should  begin  to  sing  their  parts  together. 
They  sang  a  duet,  and  then  all  in  the  audience  began  to  clap 
and  to  shout,  and  the  man  and  woman  on  the  stage,  who  had 
been  representing  lovers,  got  up,  smiling  and  letting  go  of 
hands,  and  bowed  in  all  directions. 

After  her  country  life,  and  the  serious  frame  of  mind  into 
which  Natasha  had  lately  fallen,  all  this  seemed  to  her  wild 
and  strange.  She  was  unable  to  follow  the  thread  of  the  opera, 
and  it  was  as  much  as  she  could  do  to  listen  to  the  music.  She 
saw  only  painted  canvas  and  oddly  dressed  men  and  women 
going  through  strange  motions,  talking  and  singing  in  a  blaze 
of  light.  She  knew  what  all  this  was  meant  to  represent,  but 
it  all  struck  her  as  so  affected,  unnatiiml,  and  absurd  that  some 
of  the  time  she  felt  ashamed  for  the  actors,  and  again  she  felt 
like  laughing  at  them. 

She  looked  around  at  the  faces  of  the  spectators,  to  see  if 
she  could  detect  in  them  any  of  this  feeling  of  ridicule  and 
perplexity  which  she  felt ;  but  all  these  faces  were  absorbed 
in  what  was  taking  place  on  the  stage,  or,  as  it  seemed  to 
Natasha,  expressed  a  hypocritical  enthusiasm. 

"  This  must  be,  I  suppose,  very  life-like,"  said  Natasha.  She 
kept  gazing  now  at  those  rows  of  pomaded  heads  in  the  par- 
terre, then  at  the  half-naked  women  in  the  boxes,  and  most  of 
all  at  her  neighbor  Ellen,  who,  as  undressed  as  she  could  well 
be,  gazed  with  a  faint  smile  of  satisfaction  at  the  stage,  not 
dropping  her  eyes,  conscious  of  the  brilliant  light  that  over- 
flowed the  auditorium,  and  the  warm  atmosphere,  heated  by 
the  throng. 

Natasha  gradually  began  to  enter  into  a  state  of  intoxication 
which  she  had  not  experienced  for  a  long  time.  She  had  no 
idea  who  she  was,  or  where  she  was,  or  of  what  was  going  on 
before  her.  She  gazed,  and  let  her  thoughts  wander  at  will, 
and  the  strangest,  most  disconnected  ideas  flashed  unexpect- 
edly through  her  mind.  Now  she  felt  inclined  to  leap  upon 
the  edge  of  the  box  and  sing  the  aria  which  the  actress  had 
just  been  singing,  then  she  felt  an  impulse  to  tap  with  her  fan 


S42  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

a  little  old  man  who  was  sitting  not  far  off,  then  again  to  lean 
over  to  Ellen  and  tickle  her. 

At  one  time,  when  there  was  perfect  silence  on  the  stage 
just  before  the  beginning  of  an  aria,  the  door  that  led  into 
the  parterre  near  where  the  Kostofs  were  seated  creaked  on 
its  hinges,  and  a  man  who  came  in  late  was  heard  passing 
down  to  his  seat. 

"  There  goes  Kuragin,"  whispered  Shinshin. 

The  Countess  Bezukhaya  turned  her  head  and  smiled  at  the 
new-comer.  Natasha  followed  the  direction  of  the  Countess 
Bezukhaya's  eyes,  and  saw  an  extraordinarily  handsome  adju- 
tant, who,  with  an  air  of  extreme  self-confidence,  but  at  the 
same  time  of  good  breeding,  was  just  passing  by  their  box. 

This  was  Anatol  Kuragin,  whom  she  had  seen  and  noticed 
some  time  before  at  a  ball  in  Petersburg.  He  now  wore  his 
adjutant's  uniform,  with  epaulet  and  shoulder-knot  He  ad- 
vanced with  a  supreme  air  of  youthful  gallantry,  which  would 
have  been  ludicrous  had  he  not  been  so  handsome,  and  had  his 
handsome  face  not  worn  such  an  expression  of  cordial  good 
humor  and  merriment. 

Although  it  was  during  the  act,  he  sauntered  along  the  car- 
peted corridor,  slightly  jingling  his  spurs,  and  holding  his 
perfumed,  graceful  head  on  high  with  easy  grace.  Glancing 
at  Natasha,  he  joined  his  sister,  laid  his  exquisitely  gloved 
hand  on  the  edge  of  her  box,  nodded  to  her,  and  bent  over  to 
ask  some  question  in  reference  to  Natasha. 

" Mais  charmante"  said  he,  evidently  referring  to  her.  She 
understood  less  from  hearing  his  words  than  from  the  motion 
of  his  lips. 

Then  he  went  forward  to  the  front  row  and  took  his  seat 
near  Dolokhof,  giving  him  a  friendly,  careless  nudge  with  his 
elbow,  though  the  others  treated  him  with  such  worshipful  con- 
sideration. The  other,  with  a  merry  lifting  of  the  eyebrows, 
gave  him  a  smile,  and  put  up  his  foot  against  the  railing. 

''How  like  brother  and  sister  are!"  said  the  count;  ''and 
how  handsome  they  both  are ! " 

Shinshin,  in  an  undertone,  began  to  tell  the  count  some  story 
about  Kuragin's  intrigues  in  Moscow,  to  which  Natasha  lis- 
tened simply  because  he  had  spoken  of  her  as  charmante. 

The  first  act  was  over.  All  in  the  parterre  got  up,  mingled 
together,  and  began  to  go  and  come.  Boris  came  to  the 
Bostofs'  box,  received  their  congratulations  very  simply,  and, 
smiling  abstractedly  and  raising  his  bi-ows,  invited  Natasha  and 
Sonya^  on  behalf  of  his  beti*othed,  to  be  present  at  their  wed> 


WAH  AND  PEACE.  84S 

ding,  and  then  left  them.  Natasha,  with  a  brig^ht,  coquettish 
smile,  had  talked  with  him  and  congratulated  him  on  his  en- 
gagement, although  it  was  the  same  Boris  with  whom  she  had 
been  in  love  only  a  short  time  before.  This,  in  her  intoxicated, 
edited  state,  seemed  to  her  perfectly  simple  and  natural. 

^he  bare-bosomed  Ellen  sat  near  her,  and  showered  her 
smiles  indiscriminately  on  all,  and  in  exactly  the  same  way 
Natasha  smiled  on  Boris. 

Ellen's  box  was  crowded  by  the  most  influential  and  witty 
men  of  the  city,  who  also  gathered  around  the  front  of  it,  on  the 
parterre  side,  vying  with  each  other,  apparently,  in  their  desire 
to  let  it  be  known  that  they  were  acquainted  with  her. 

Kuragin,  throughout  that  entr^acte,  stood  with  Lopukhof, 
with  his  back  to  the  stage,  in  the  very  front  row,  and  kept  his 
eyes  fixed  on  the  Kostofs'  box.  Natasha  felt  certain  that  he 
was  talking  about  her,  and  it  afforded  her  gratification.  She 
even  turned  her  head  slightly,  in  a  way  which,  in  her  opinion, 
best  showed  off  the  beauty  of  her  profile. 

Before  the  beginning  of  the  second  act,  Pierre,  whom  the 
Kostofs  had  not  seen  since  their  arrival,  made  his  appearance. 
His  face  wore  an  expression  of  sadness,  and  he  was  stouter 
thau  when  Natasha  had  last  seen  him.  Without  recognizing 
any  one,  he  passed  down  to  the  front  row.  Anatol  joined  him, 
and  began  to  make  some  remark,  looking  and  pointing  to  the 
Rostofs^  box.  A  flash  of  animation  passed  over  Pierre's  face 
as  he  caught  sight  of  Natasha,  and  he  hastily  made  his  way 
across  through  the  seats  to  where  she  was.  Then,  leaning  his 
elbows  on  tihe  edge  of  her  box,  he  had  a  long  conversation 
with  her. 

While  she  was  talking  with  Pierre  she  heard  a  man's  voice 
in  the  Countess  Bezukhaya's  box,  and  something  told  her  that 
it  was  Anatol  Kuragin.  She  glanced  round,  and  their  eyes 
met.  She  almost  smiled,  and  he  looked  straight  into  her  eyes 
with  such  an  admiring,  tender  gaze  that  it  seemed  to  her  strange 
to  be  so  near  him,  to  see  him,  to  be  so  sure  that  she  pleased 
^  him,  and  yet  not  to  be  acquainted  with  him ! 

In  the  second  act  the  stage  represented  a  cemetery,  and 
there  was  a  hole  in  the  canvas,  which  represented  the  moon, 
and  the  footlights  were  turned  down,  and  the  horns  and  contra- 
basses began  to  play  in  very  deep  tones,  and  the  stage  was  in- 
vaded from  both  sides  by  a  throng  of  men  in  black  mantles. 
These  men  beg^n  to  wave  their  arms,  brandishing  what  seemed 
to  be  daggers.  Then  some  other  men  rushed  forward,  and  pro- 
ceeded to  drag  away  by  main  force  that  damsel  whO;  in  the 


344  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

previous  act^  liad  been  dressed  in  white,  but  was  now  in  a  blue 
dress.  But  before  they  dragged  her  away  they  sang  with  her 
for  a  long  time,  and  at  the  sound  of  .three  thumps  on  some- 
thing metallic  behind  the  scenes  all  fell  on  their  knees  and 
began  to  sing  a  prayer.  A  number  of  times  all  these  actioas 
were  interruptea  by  the  enthusiastic  plaudits  of  the  spectatoife. 
Every  time  during  this  act  that  Natasha  looked  down  into  the 
parterre  she  saw  Anatol  Kuragin,  with  his  arm  carelessly  thrown 
across  the  back  of  his  seat,  and  gazing  at  her.  It  was  pleasant 
for  her  to  feel  that  she  had  so  captivated  him,  and  it  never 
entered  her  head  that  in  all  this  there  was  anything  improper. 

When  the  second  act  was  over,  the  Countess  Bezukhaya  stood 
up,  leaned  over  to  the  Rostofs'  box, — thereby  exposing  her 
whole  bosom,  —  beckoned  the  old  count  to  come  to  her,  and 
then,  paying  no  heed  to  those  who  came  to  her  box  to  pay  her 
their  homage,  she  began  a  smiling,  confidential  conversation 
with  him. 

"  You  must  certainly  make  me  acquainted  with  your  charm- 
ing girls,"  said  she ;  '^  the  whole  city  are  talking  about  them, 
and  I  don't  know  them." 

Natasha  got  up  and  made  a  courtesy  to  this  magnificent 
countess.  The  flattery  of  this  brilliant  beauty  was  so  intoxi- 
cating to  her  that  she  blushed  with  pleasure  and  g^tification. 

*^  I  mean  to  be  a  Muscovite  also."  said  Ellen.  <<  And  aren't 
you  ashamed  of  yourself,  to  hide  such  pearls  in  the  country  ?  " 

The  Countess  Bezukhaya,  by  good  rights,  had  the  reputation 
of  being  a  fascinating  woman.  She  could  say  the  opposite  of 
what  she  thought,  and  could  flatter  in  the  most  simple  and  natu- 
ral manner. 

"  Now,  my  dear  count,  vou  must  allow  me  to  see  something 
of  your  daughter.  Thougn  I  don't  expect  to  be  here  very  long, 
—  you  don't  either,  I  believe,  —  I  shall  try  to  make  them  have 
a  good  time.  —  I  heard  a  good  deal  about  ^ou  in  Petersburg,  and 
I  wanted  to  make  your  acquaintance,"  said  she,  turning  to  Nat- 
asha with  her  stereotyped,  bewitching  smile.  ^'  I  heaxd  about 
you  from  my  '  page,'  Drubetskoi. — Have  you  heard,  by  the  way, 
that  he  was  engaged  ?  —  and  from  my  husband's  friend  Bolkon- 
sky.  Prince  Andrei  Bolkonsky,"  said  she,  with  especial  em- 
phasis, signifying  thereby  that  she  knew  of  his  relations  toward 
Natasha.  Then  she  proposed  that,  in  order  to  become  better 
acquainted,  one  of  the  young  ladies  should  come  over  into  her 
box  for  the  rest  of  the  performance,  and  Natasha  went. 

During  the  third  act  the  scene  represented  a  palace,  wherein 
many  candles  were  blazing,  while  on  the  walls  hung  paintings 


WAtt  ANb  P^Ace,  §45 

representing  full-bearded  knights.  In  the  centre  stood,  appar- 
ently, a  tsar  and  tsaritsa.  The  tsar  was  gesticulating  with  his 
right  hand,  and,  after  singing  something  with  evident  timidity, 
and  certainly  very  wretchedly,  he  took  his  seat  on  a  crimson 
throne. 

The  damsel,  who  at  first  had  been  dressed  in  white  and  then 
in  blue,  was  now  in  nothing  but  a  shift,  with  dishevelled  hair, 
and  stood  near  the  throne.  She  was  warbling  some  doleful 
ditty  addressed  to  the  tsaritsa,  but  the  tsar  peremptorily  waved 
his  hand,  and  from  the  side  scenes  came  a  number  of  bare- 
legged men  and  bare-legged  women,  and  began  to  dance  all 
together. 

Then  the  fiddles  played  a  very  dainty  and  merry  tune.  One 
girl,  with  big  bare  legs  and  thin  arms,  coming  out  from  among 
the  others,  went  behind  the  scenes,  and,  having  adjusted  her 
corsage,  came  into  the  centre  of  the  stage,  and  began  to  caper 
about  and  knock  her  feet  together. 

The  whole  parterre  clapped  their  hands  and  shouted, 
"Bravo!" 

Then  a  man  took  his  stand  in  one  comer.  The  orchestra 
played  louder  than  ever,  with  a  clanging  of  cymbals  and  blare 
of  horns,  and  this  bare-legged  man,  alone  by  himself,  began  to 
make  very  high  jumps  and  kick  his  feet  together.  This  man 
was  Duport,  who  earned  sixty  thousand  rubles  a  year  by  his 
art.  All  in  the  parterre,  in  the  boxes,  and  in  the  "  upper  parar 
disc "  began  to  thump  and  shout  with  all  their  might,  and 
the  man  paused  and  smiled,  and  bowed  to  all  sides.  Then 
some  others  danced, — bare-legged  men  and  women;  then  one 
of  the  royal  personages  shouted  something  with  musical  ac- 
companiment, and  all  began  to  sing.  But  suddenly  a  storm 
arose.  Chromatic  scales  and  diminished  sevenths  were  heard 
in  the  orchestra,  and  all  scattered  behind  the  scenes,  carrying 
off  with  them  again  one  of  those  who  was  present,  and  the 
curtain  fell. 

Once  more  among  the  audience  arose  a  terrible  roar  and 
tumult,  and  all,  with  enthusiastic  faces,  shouted  at  once,  "  Du- 
port !    Duport !    Duport ! " 

Katasha  no  longer  looked  upon  this  as  strange  or  unusual. 
With  a  sense  of  satisfaction  she  looked  around  her,  smiling 
joyously. 

"^'est-cepas  quHl  est  admirable,  —  Duport?"  asked  Ellen, 
turning  to  her. 

«  Oh,  aui  /  "  replied  Natasha. 


346  ^AA  AND  PEACM. 


CHAPTER  X. 

During  the  entr'acte  a  drauglit  of  cold  air  made  its  way  into 
Ellen's  box,  as  the  door  was  opened  and  Anatol  came  in,  bow- 
ing and  trying  not  to  disturb  any  one. 

''Allow  me  to  present  my  brother/'  said  Ellen,  uneasily 
glancing  from  Natasha  to  Aimtol. 

Natasha  turned  her  pretty,  graceful  head  toward  the  hand- 
some young  man,  and  smiled  at  him  over  her  shoulder.  Ana- 
tol, who  was  as  Hue-looking  near  at  hand  as  he  was  at  a  distance, 
sat  down  by  her  and  said  that  he  had  been  long  wishing  for 
the  pleasui*e  of  her  acquaintance,  — ever  since  the  Naruishkins' 
ball,  where  he  had  seen  her,  and  never  forgotten  her. 

Kuragin  was  far  cleverer  and  less  affected  with  women  than  be 
was  in  the  society  of  men.  He  spoke  fluently  and  simply,  and 
Natasha  had  a  strange  and  agreeable  feeling  of  ease  in  the 
company  of  this  man,  about  whom  so  many  rumors  were  cur- 
rent. He  was  not  only  not  terrible,  but  his  face  even  wore  a 
naive,  jolly,  and  good-uatured  smile. 

Kuragin  asked  her  how  she  enjoyed  the  play,  and  told  her 
how  Semyonova,  at  the  last  performance,  had  gotten  a  fall 
while  on  the  stage. 

''  Do  you  know,  countess>"  said  he,  suddenly  addressing  her 
as  though  she  were  an  old  acquaintance,  ''  we  have  been  arran- 
ging a  fancy-dress  party.*  You  ought  to  take  part  in  it.  It 
will  be  very  jolly.  We  shall  all  rendezvous  at  the  Karagins'. 
Please  come,  won't  you  ?  "  he  insisted. 

In  saying  this  he  did  not  once  take  his  smiling  eyes  from 
her  face,  her  neck,  her  naked  arms.  Natasha  was  not  left  in 
doubt  of  the  fact  that  he  admired  her.  This  was  agreeable, 
but  somehow  she  felt  constrained  and  troubled  by  his  presence. 
When  she  was  not  looking  at  him  she  was  conscious  that  he 
was  staring  at  her  shoulders,  and  she  involuntarily  tried  to 
catch  his  eyes,  so  that  he  might  rather  fix  them  on  her  face. 
But  while  she  thus  looked  him  in  the  eyes  she  had  a  terrified 
consciousness  that  that  barrier  of  modesty,  which,  she  had  always 
felt  before,  kept  other  men  at  a  distance,  was  down  between 
him  and  her.  Without  being  in  the  least  able  to  explain  it, 
she  was  conscious  within  Ave  minutes  that  she  was  on  a  dan- 
gerously intimate  footing  with  this  man.  She  nervously  turned 
a  little,  for  fear  he  might  put  his  hand  on  her  bare  arm,  or  kiss 

*  Karu99l  /  kostumakh* 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  347 

her  on  the  neck.  They  talked  about  the  simplest  matters,  and 
yet  she  felt  that  thej  were  more  intimate  than  she  had  ever 
been  with  any  other  man.  She  looked  at  Ellen  and  at  her 
father,  as  though  asking  them  what  this  all  meant ;  but  EUen 
was  busily  engaged  in  conversation  with  some  general,  and 
paid  no  heed  to  her  imploring  look,  and  her  fathei^s  said  noth- 
ing more  to  her  than  what  it  always  said :  "  Happy  ?  Well,  I 
am  glad  of  it." 

During  one  of  those  moments  of  constraint,  while  Anatol's 
prominent  eyes  were  calmly  and  boldly  surveying  her,  Natasha, 
in  order  to  break  the  silence,  asked  hun  how  he  liked  Moscow. 
Natasha  asked  the  question  and  blushed.  It  seemed  to  her  all 
the  time  that  she  was  doing  something  unbecoming  in  talking 
with  him.     Anatol  smiled,  as  though  to  encour^;e  her. 

^^  At  first  I  was  not  particularly  charmed  with  Moscow,  be- 
cause what  a  city  ought  to  have,  to  be  agreeable,  is  pretty  women ; 
isn't  that  so  ?  Well,  now  I  like  it  very  much,"  said  he,  giving 
her  a  significant  look.  ''  Will  you  come  to  our  party,  countess  ? 
Please  do,''  said  he ;  and,  stretching  out  his  hand  toward  her 
bouquet,  and  lowering  his  voice,  he  added  in  French,  "  You  will 
be  the  prettiest.  Come,  my  dear  countess,  and,  as  a  pledge, 
give  me  that  flower."  * 

Natasha  did  not  realize  what  he  was  saying  any  more  than 
he  did,  but  she  had  a  consciousness  that  in  his  incomprehensi- 
ble words  there  was  an  improper  meaning.  She  knew  not  what 
reply  to  make,  and  turned  away,  pretending  not  to  have  heard 
him.  But  the  instant  that  she  turned  away  the  thought  came 
to  her  that  he  was  there  behind  her,  and  so  near. 

''  What  is  he  doing  now  ?  Is  he  ashamed  of  himself  ?  Is 
he  angry  ?  Is  it  my  business  to  make  amends  ?  "  she  asked 
herself.     She  could  not  refrain  from  glancing  round. 

She  looked  straight  into  his  eyes,  and  his  nearness  and  self- 
possession,  and  the  good-natured  warmth  of  his  smile,  over- 
came her. 

She  gave  him  an  answering  smile,  and  gazed  straight  into 
his  eyes,  and  once  more  she  realized,  with  the  feeling  of  horror, 
that  there  was  no  barrier  between  them. 

The  curtain  again  went  up.  Anatol  left  the  box,  calm  and 
serene.  Natasha  rejoined  her  father  in  her  own  box,  but  already 
she  was  under  the  dominion  of  this  world  into  which  she  had 
entered.  Everything  that  passed  before  her  eyes  now  seemed 
to  her  perfectly  natural,  while  all  her  former  thoughts  concern- 

*  Vous  terez  la  plus  Jolie.  VeneZf  ckere  comtessef  et  comme  gage  donncz 
mat  cette/Uur* 


848  ^^^  ^-^^  PEACE. 

ing  her  lover,  and  the  Princess  Mariya,  and  her  life  in  the 
country,  vanished  from  her  mind  as  though  all  that  had  taken 
place  long,  long  ago. 

In  the  fourth  act  there  was  a  strange  kind  of  devil,  who  sang 
and  gesticulated  until  a  trap  beneath  him  was  opened,  and  he 
disappeared.  This  was  all  that  Natasha  noticed  during  the 
fourth  act.  Something  agitated  and  disturbed  her,  and  the 
cause  of  this  annoyance  was  Kuragin,  at  whom  she  could  not 
help  looking. 

When  they  left  the  theatre  Anatol  joined  them,  summoned 
their  carriage,  and  helped  them  to  get  seated.  As  he  was  assist- 
ing Natasha  he  squeezed  her  arm  above  the  elbow.  Startled 
and  blushing  she  looked  at  him.  His  brilliant  eyes  returned 
her  gaze>  and  he  gave  her  a  tender  smile. 

Not  until  she  reached  home  was  Natasha  able  clearly  to 
realize  all  that  had  taken  place,  and  when  she  suddenly  remem- 
bered Prince  Andrei  she  was  horror-struck ;  and  as  they  all  sat 
drinking  tea  she  groaned  aloud,  and,  flushing  scarlet,  ran  from 
the  room. 

"  My  God !  I  am  lost,"  she  said  to  herself.  "  How  could  I 
have  let  it  go  so  far  ?  "  she  wondered.  Long  she  sat  hiding 
her  flushed  face  in  her  hands,  striving  to  give  heraelf  a  clear 
account  of  what  had  happened  to  her,  and  she  could  not  do  so, 
nor  could  she  explain  her  feelings.  Everything  seemed  to  her 
dark,  obscure,  and  terrible. 

Then,  in  that  huge,  brilliant  auditorium,  where  Duport,  with 
his  bare  legs  and  his  spangled  jacket,  capered  about  on  the 
dampened  staple  to  the  sounds  of  music,  and  the  girls  and  the 
old  men  and  Ellen  much  decolletee,  with  her  calm  and  haughty 
smile,  were  all  applauding  and  enthusiastically  shouting  bravo, 
—  there,  under  the  protection  of  this  same  Ellen,  everything 
was  perfectly  clear  and  simple ;  but  now,  alone  by  herself,  it 
became  incomprehensible. 

"  What  does  it  mean  ?  What  means  this  fear  that  I  experi- 
ence in  his  presence  ?  What  mean  these  stings  of  conscience 
which  I  experience  now  ?  '*  she  asked  herself. 

If  only  her  mother  had  been  there  Natasha  would  have  made 
confession  of  all  her  thoughts,  before  going  to  bed  that  night. 
She  knew  that  Sonya,  with  her  strict  and  wholesome  views, 
would  either  entirely  fail  to  understand,  or  would  be  horrified 
by,  her  confession.  Natasha  accordingly  tried,  by  her  own 
unaided  efforts,  to  settle  the  question  that  tormented  her. 

"  Have  I  really  forfeited  Prince  Andrei's  love,  or  not  ?  "  she 


WAR   AND  PEACE.  349 

asked  herself,  and  then,  with  a  re-assuring  smile,  she  replied  to 
her  own  question:  ^^  What  a  fool  I  am  to  ask  this !  What  is 
the  sense  of  it  ?  None !  I  have  done  nothing.  I  was  not  to 
blame  for  this.  No  one  will  know  about  it,  and  I  shall  not  see 
him  any  more,"  said  she  to  herself.  "  Of  course  it  is  evident 
no  harm  has  been  done ;  there's  nothing  to  repent  of,  and  no 
reason  why  Prince  Andrei  should  not  love  me  jtist  as  I  am. 
But  what  do  I  mean  by  just  as  I  am  ?  O  my  God !  my  God ! 
why  is  he  not  here  ?  " 

Natasha  grew  calm  for  an  instant,  but  then  some  instinct 
told  her  that,  even  though  nothing  had  happened  and  no  harm 
had  been  done,  still  the  fii'st  purity  of  her  love  for  Prince 
Andrei  was  destroyed. 

And  once  more  she  let  her  imagination  bring  up  her  whole 
conversation  with  Kuragin,  and  she  recalled  his  face  and  his 
motions,  and  the  tender  smile  that  this  handsome,  impudent 
man  had  given  her  after  he  had  squeezed  her  arm. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

Akatol  Kuragin  was  living  in  Moscow  because  his  father 
had  sent  him  from  Petersburg,  where  he  had  been  spending 
more  than  twenty  thousand  rubles  a  year,  and  had  accumu- 
lated heavy  debts  as  well,  which  his  creditors  were  trying  to 
obtain  from  his  father. 

His  father  explained  to  him  that  he  would,  for  the  last  time, 
pay  one-half  of  his  debts,  but  only  on  condition  of  his  going  to 
Moscow  as  adjutant  to  the  governor-general  of  the  city,  an 
appointment  which  he  obtained  for  him.  He  advised  him  to 
make  up  his  mind  at  last  to  try  to  win  the  hand  of  some  rich 
heiress.     He  suggested  the  Princess  Mariya  or  Julie  Karagina. 

Anatol  consented  and  went  to  Moscow,  where  he  took  up 
his  residence  at  Pierre's.  At  first  Pierre  received  him  with 
scant  welcome,  but  at  length  became  accustomed  to  him,,  and 
occasionally  accompanied  him  on  his  sprees,  and,  under  the 
pretence  of  a  loan,  gave  him  money. 

Anatol,  as  Shinshin  correctly  stated  the  case,  had  instantly 
turned  the  heads  of  all  the  girls  in  ^oscow,  and  particularly 
by  the  fact  of  his  affected  neglect  of  them  and  his  avowed 
preference  for  gypsy  girls  and  French  actresses,  with  the 
leading  light  of  whom,  Mademoiselle  Georges,  it  was  said, 
he  was  on  terms  of  close  intimacy.     He  never  failed  of  a 


850  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

single  drinking  bout  giyen  by  Danilof  or  the  other  fast  men  of 
Moscow :  he  could  drink  steadily  from  night  till  morning,  out- 
drinking  every  one  else ;  moreover,  he  was  a  constant  habihU 
of  all  the  balls  and  receptions  in  the  upper  circles  of  society. 
Rumors  were  rife  of  various  intrigues  of  his  with  married 
ladies  in  Moscow,  and  at  the  balls  he  always  paid  particular 
court  to  several. 

But  from  young  ladies,  particularly  those  who  were  rich  and 
in  the  marriage  market, — most  of  whom  were  excessively  plain, 
—  Anatol  kept  at  a  respectful  distance,  and  this  arose  from 
the  fact,  known  only  to  a  very  few  of  his  most  intimate  friends, 
that  he  had  been  married  two  years  before.  Two  years  before, 
while  his  regiment  had  been  cantoned  in  Poland,  a  Polish 
proprietor  of  a  small  estate  had  forced  Anatol  to  marry  his 
daughter. 

Anatol  had  soon  after  abandoned  his  wife,  and,  by  engaging 
to  send  money  periodically,  he  persuaded  his  father-in-law  to 
let  him  pass  still  as  a  bachelor. 

Anatol  was  always  satisfied  with  his  situation,  with  himself 
and  with  other  people.  He  was  instinctively,  by  his  whole 
nature,  convinced  that  it  was  entirely  impossible  for  him 
to  lead  another  manner  of  existence,  and  that  he  had  never 
in  his  life  done  anything  wrong.  He  was  in  no  condition 
to  ponder  on  the  effect  that  his  behavior  might  have  on 
others,  or  what  might  be  the  result  of  his  behaving  in  this, 
that,  or  the  other  way.  He  wals  persuaded  that,  just  as  the 
duck  was  so  created  as  always  to  be  in  the  water,  in  the  same 
way  he  was  created  by  God  for  the  purpose  of  living  with  an 
income  of  thirty  thousand  rubles  a  year,  and  of  occupying 
the  highest  pinnacle  of  society.  He  was  so  firmly  grounded 
in  this  opinion,  that  other  people  also,  when  they  saw  him, 
shared  in  his  conviction,  and  never  thought  of  refusing 
him  either  the  foremost  place  in  society,  or  the  money 
which  he  took  of  any  one  he  met,  without  ever  thinking  of 
repaying  it. 

He  was  no  gambler ;  at  least,  he  never  showed  sordid  love 
for  gain.  He  was  not  ostentatious.  It  was  absolutely  a 
matter  of  indifference  to  him  what  men  thought  of  him.  Still 
less  was  he  open  to  the  charge  of  ambition.  Many  times  he 
had  annoyed  his  father  by  injuring  his  own  prospects,  and 
he  always  made  sport  of  dignities.  He  was  not  stingy,  and  he 
never  refused  any  one  who  asked  a  favor  of  him.  All  that  he 
cared  for  was  "  a  good  time  "  and  women,  and  as,  according  to 
his  opinion,  there  was  nothing  ignoble  in  these  tastes,  and  he 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  851 

could  not  calculate  the  consequence  for  other  people  of  the 
gratification  of  these  tastes  of  his,  he  therefore  considered 
himself  irreproachable^  sincerely  scorned  ordinary  scoundrels 
and  base  men,  and  held  his  head  high  with  a  tranquil  con- 
science. 

Debauchees,  those  male  Magdalens,  have  a  secret  feeling  of 
blamelessness,  such  as  is  peculiar  to  the  frail  sisterhood ;  and  it 
is  based  on  the  same  hope  of  forgiveness.  "  She  shall  be  for- 
given much,  for  she  hath  loved  much  ;  and  he  shall  be  forgiven 
much,  because  he  hath  enjoyed  much." 

Dolokhof,  back  again  in  Moscow,  after  his  exile  and  his  ad- 
ventures in  Persia,  and  once  more  leading  a  dissipated  and 
luxurious  life  and  playing  high,  naturally  became  intimate 
with  his  old  Petersburg  companion,  Kuragin,  and  made  use 
of  him  for  his  own  ends. 

Anatol  really  liked  Dolokhof  for  his  wit,  intelligence,  and 
audacity.  Dolokhof,  who  found  the  name,  the  notability,  and 
the  connections  of  Anatol  Kuragin  an  admirable  decoy  for  at- 
tracting rich  young  fellows  into  his  clutches,  made  use  of  him 
and  got  enjoyment  out  of  him  without  letting  him  suspect  it. 
Besides  the  financial  purpose  for  which  Anatol  served  him, 
the  act  itself  of  controlling  the  will  of  another  was  an  enjoy- 
ment, a  habit,  and  a  necessity  for  Dolokhof. 

Natasha  had  made  a  deep  impression  on  Kuragin.  At  sup- 
per after  the  opera,  with  all  the  enthusiasm  of  a  connoisseur, 
he  praised  to  Dolokhof  her  arms,  her  shoulders,  her  feet,  and 
her  hair,  and  he  expressed  his  intention  of  making  love  to  her. 
The  possible  consequences  of  such  love-making  Anatol  did  not 
stop  to  consider ;  nor  ^as  it  in  him  to  foresee  them  any  more 
than  in  any  other  of  his  escapades. 

"Yes,  she's  pretty,  my  dear  fellow ;  but  she's  not  for  us," 
said  Dolokhof. 

"  I  am  going  to  tell  my  sister  to  invite  her  to  dinner.  —  How's 
that  ?  "  suggested  Anatol. 

"  You  haa  better  wait  till  she's  married  "  — 

"You  know,"  said  Anatol,  ^'f  adore  les petites  filles  ;  you  can 
turn  their  heads  so  quick." 

"You  have  already  fallen  into  the  hands  of  one  petite 
ftUe"  said  Dolokhof,  who  knew  about  Anatol's  marriage. 
"  See  ? '» 

"Well,  can't  get  caught  a  second  time, — hey?"  replied 
Anatol,  good-naturedly  laughing. 


352  WAR  AND  PEACE. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

The  next  day  the  Eostofs  staid  at  home,  and  no  one  came 
to  see  them.  Marya  Dmitrievna  had  a  confidential  conversar 
tion  with  her  father,  taking  pains  to  keep  it  a  secret  from  Na- 
tasha, who  nevertheless  suspected  that  they  were  discussing 
the  old  prince,  and  concocting  some  scheme.  It  disquieted  and 
humiliated  her.  She  was  every  moment  expecting  Prince 
Andrei  to  come,  and  twice  that  day  she  sent  the  dvomik  to 
the  Bolkonskys'  to  learn  if  he  had  arrived.  But  he  was  still 
absent. 

It  was  now  more  trying  to  her  than  during  the  first  days  of 
his  absence.  Her  impatience  and  melancholy  thoughts  about 
him  were  intensified  by  an  unpleasant  recollection  of  her 
interview  with  the  Princess  Mariya  and  the  scene  with  the  old 
prince^  as  well  as  by  a  vague  and  undefinable  fear  and  uneasi- 
ness. She  had  a  notion  that  either  he  would  not  come  at  all, 
or  that  before  he  came  something  would  happen.  She  found 
it  impossible,  as  before,  to  have  calm  and  collected  thoughts 
about  him  when  alone  by  herself.  As  soon  as  her  thoughts 
turned  to  him  her  recollections  of  him  were  confused  by 
recollections  of  the  old  prince,  of  the  Princess  Mariya,  of  the 
operatic  performance,  and  of  Kuragin.  Again  the  question 
arose  whether  she  was  not  to  blame,  whether  her  troth  plighted 
to  Prince  Andrei  were  not  already  broken ;  and  again  she  would 
picture  to  herself,  even  to  the  most  trifling  details,  every  word, 
every  gesture,  every  slightest  shadow  in  the  play  of  expression 
on  the  face  of  that  man  who  had  succeeded  in  arousing  in  her 
such  a  terrible  and  inexplicable  feeling. 

In  the  eyes  of  the  home  circle,  Natasha  seemed  livelier  than 
usual,  but  she  was  far  from  being  as  calm  and  happy  as  she 
had  been  before. 

On  Sunday  morning  Maiya  Dmitrievna  proposed  to  her 
guests  to  attend  mass  at  the  parish  chapel  of  Uspenie  na  Mo- 
hiltsakh. 

"  I  don't  like  these  fashionable  churches,"  said  she,  evidently 
priding  herself  on  her  independence.  "God  is  everywhere 
One.  We  have  an  excellent  pope,  and  deacon  as  well,  and  the 
service  is  well  performed.  What  kind  of  worship  is  it  to  have 
concerts  given  in  the  choir  ?  I  don't  like  it.  Jt's  mischievous 
nonsense." 

Mar^a  J)]nitrievna  liked  Sundays,  and  had  t\^Qjs^  kept  as  high 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  863 

festivals.  Her  house  was  thoroughly  washed  and  cleaned  on 
Saturday ;  neither  she  nor  the  people  within  her  gates  did  any 
work ;  they  wore  their  best  clothes,  and  all  went  to  mass.  On 
Sunday  she  had  prepared  an  extra  fine  dinner,  and  her  servants 
were  provided  with  vodka  and  a  roasted  goose  or  a  sucking  pig. 

But  nothing  in  the  whole  house  gave  more  decided  evidence 
of  its  being  a  holiday  than  Marya  Dmitrievna's  broad,  stem 
face,  which  on  this  occasion  wore  an  unchangeable  expression 
of  solemn  festivity. 

After  mass,  while  they  were  drinking  their  coffee  in  the 
drawing-room,  where  the  furniture  covers  had  been  removed,  a 
servant  announced  to  Marya  Dmitrievna  that  the  carriage  was 
at  the  door.  She  drew  a  long  face,  and,  putting  on  her  best 
shawl,  in  which  she  always  paid  visits,  she  got  up  and  announced 
that  she  was  going  to  see  Prince  Nikolai  Aiidreyevitch  Bolkon- 
sky,  to  have  an  understanding  with  him  in  regard  to  Natasha. 

After  Marya  Dmitrievna  had  taken  her  departure,  a  modiste 
from  Madame  Chalm^'s  came  to  try  on  the  young  ladies'  new 
dresses,  and  Natasha,  retiring  to  the  next  room  and  shutting 
the  door,  was  very  glad  of  the  diversion. 

Just  as  she  had  put  on  a  hastily  basted  and  still  sleeveless 
waist,  and  was  standing  in  front  of  the  mirror,  bending  her 
head  around  to  see  how  the  back  fitted,  she  heard  in  the 
drawing-room  the  lively  tones  of  her  father's  voice,  mingled 
with  those  of  a  woman,  and  it  made  her  blush.  It  was 
Ellen's  voice. 

Natasha  had  not  time  to  take  off  the  experimental  waist 
before  the  door  opened,  and  into  the  room  came  the  Countess 
Bezukhaya,  beaming  with  a  good-natured  and  flattering  smile, 
and  wearing  a  dark  purple  velvet  dress,  with  a  high  collar. 

"  Ah,  ma  delicieuse  !  "  she  exclaimed  to  the  blushing  Natasha. 
"  Charmantel  No,  she  is  quite  unlike  any  one  else,  my  dear 
count,"  said  she,  turning  to  the  count,  who  followed  her  in. 
"  The  idea  of  living  in  Moscow  and  not  going  anywhere ! 
No,  I  shall  not  let  you  off.  This  evening  Mademoiselle  Georges 
is  going  to  recite  for  me,  and  we  shall  have  a  crowd,  and  if  you 
don't  bring  your  beauties,  who  are  far  better  than  Mademoi- 
selle Georges,  I  shall  never  forgive  you.  My  husband  is  away, 
he  is  gone  to  Tver ;  otherwise  I  should  send  him  for  you.  Do 
not  fail  to  come.     Don't  fail  —  at  ten  o'clock." 

She  nodded  to  the  dressmaker,  whom  she  knew,  and  received 
a  most  respectful  courtesy,  and  then  sat  down  in  an  arm-chair 
near  the  mirror,  picturesquely  disposing  the  folds  of  her  velvet 
dress.     She  did  not  cease  to  pbatter  with  good-nature<i  ^d 


354  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

meriy  volubility,  constantly  saying  pleasant,  flattering  things 
about  Natasha's  beauty.  She  examined  her  dresses  and  praiBed 
them,  and  alscf  managed  to  say  a  good  word  for  a  new  dress  of 
her  own,  en  gaz  metallique  —  metallic  gauze  —  which  she  had 
just  received  from  Paris,  and  advised  Natasha  to  get  one 
like  it. 

"Besides,  it  would  be  extremely  becoming  to  you,  my 
charmer,"  said  she. 

Natasha's  face  fairly  beamed  with  pleasure.  She  felt  happy 
and  exhilarated  by  the  praise  of  this  gracious  Countess  Bez- 
ukhaya,  who  had  heretofore  seemed  to  her  such  an  inaccessible, 
grand  lady,  and  was  now  so  cordial  toward  her.  Natasha's 
spirits  rose,  and  she  felt  almost  in  love  with  this  woman,  who 
was  so  beautiful  and  so  good-natured. 

Ellen,  on  her  part,  was  sincerely  enchanted  by  Natasha,  and 
wanted  her  to  have  a  good  time.  Anatol  had  urged  her  to 
help  on  his  acquaintance  with  her,  and  it  was  for  this  purpose 
that  she  called  on  the  Kostofs.  The  idea  of  helping  her 
brother  in  such  a  flii*tation  was  amusing  to  her. 

Although  that  winter  in  Petersburg  she  had  felt  a  grudge 
against  Natasha  for  alienating  Boris  from  her,  it  had  now  en- 
tirely passed  from  her  mind ;  and,  with  all  her  heart,  she  felt 
kindly  disposed  toward  Natasha.  As  she  was  taking  her  de- 
parture, she  called  her  protSgee  aside :  — 

"  Last  evening  my  brother  dined  with  me  —  we  almost  died 
of  laughing  —  he  eats  just  nothing  at  all,  and  can  only  sigh 
for  you,  my  charmer  !  U  estfoUy  maisfou  amoureux  de  vousy 
ma  chere," 

Natasha  flushed  crimson  on  hearing  those  words. 

" How  she  blushes !  How  she  blushes,  ma  delicieusej'^  pur- 
sued Ellen.  "  Don't  fail  to  come.  Even  if  you  are  in  love, 
that  is  no  reason  for  making  a  nun  of  yourself.  Even  if  you 
are  engaged,  I  am  sure  that  your  future  husband  would  prefer 
to  have  you  go  into  society,  rather  than  die  of  tedium  in  his 
absence."  * 

"  Of  course  she  knows  that  I  am  engaged ;  of  course  she  and 
her  husband,  she  and  Pierre,  that  good,  honest  Pierre,  have 
talked  and  laughed  about  this.  Of  course  there  is  no  haim  in 
it."  —  And  again  under  Ellen's  influence,  all  that  hitherto 
seemed  terrible  to  her  seemed  simple  and  natural.     "  And  she 

*  Si  vous  aimez  quelqu*un,  ma  d^licieusCf  ce  rVest  p<u  une  raison  pour  t» 
dottrer.  Si  mime  vous  Stes  promise,  je  suis  sure  que  voire  promts  attroit 
d^siri  que  poti*  alliez  {lan§  (e  pwnde  en  ^on  abse(%c9  plutSt  qu^  4e  dMrir 
(f'ennui,  *  *^ 


WAR  AND  PEACE,  856 

is  such  a  grande  dame,  and  so  kind,  and  she  seems  to  like  me 
so  heartily ! "  said  Natasha  to  herself.  "  And  why  shouldn't 
I  have  a  good  time  ? "  queried  Natasha,  looking  at  Ellen 
with  wide  eyes  full  of  amazement. 

Marya  Dmitrievna  returned  in  time  for  dinner,  silent  and 
solemn,  having  evidently  suffered  a  rebuff  at  the  old  prince's. 
She  was  still  laboring  under  too  much  excitement  from  her 
encounter  to  be  able  to  give  a  calm  account  of  it.  To  the 
count's  question,  she  replied  that  everything  would  be  all  right, 
and  she  would  tell  him  about  it  the  next  day. 

When  she  was  informed  of  the  Countess  Bezukhaya's  visit, 
and  the  invitation  for  the  evening,  she  said,  — 

"  I  don't  like  the  idea  of  your  going  to  Bezukhaya's,  and  I 
should  advise  you  not  to ;  however,  if  you  have  already  prom- 
ised, go ;  perhaps  you  will  have  some  amusement,"  she  added, 
addressing  Natasha. 


CHAPTER  Xni. 

CouKT  Ilya  Andreyitch  took  his  young  ladies  to  the 
Countess  Bezukhaya's. 

The  reception  was  fairly  well  attended,  but  the  most  of  the 
company  were  strangers  to  Natasha.  Count  Ilya  Andreyitch 
saw  with  dissatisfaction  that  the  larger  majority  of  those 
present  consisted  of  men  and  women  noted  for  their  free  and 
easy  behavior. 

Mademoiselle  Georges  stood  in  one  comer  of  the  drawing- 
room  surrounded  by  young  men.  There  were  a  number  of 
Frenchmen,  and  among  them  M^tivier,  who  since  Ellen's  arri- 
val had  beeome  an  intimate  at  her  house.  Count  Ilya  Andre- 
yitch decided  not  to  take  a  han^  at  the  card-table,  or  to  leave 
the  girls,  but  to  take  his  departure  as  soon  as  Mademoiselle 
Georges  had  finished  her  recitation. 

Anatol  was  at  the  door,  evidently  on  the  lookout  for  the 
Rostofs.  As  soon  as  he  had  exchanged  greetings  with  the 
count,  he  joined  Natasha,  and  followed  her  into  the  room. 
The  moment  she  saw  him,  she  was  assailed,  just  as  she  had 
been  at  the  theatre,  by  a  mixed  sense  of  gratified  vanity  that 
she  pleased  him,  and  of  fear,  because  of  the  absence  of  moral 
barriers  between  her  and  him. 

Ellen  received  Natasha  effusively,  and  was  loud  in  praise 
of  her  beauty  and  her  toilet. 

Soon  after  their  arrival,  Mademoiselle  Greorges  retired  from 


366  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

the  room  to  change  her  costume.  In  the  mean  time,  chairs 
were  disposed  in  the  drawing-room,  and  the  guests  began  to 
take  their  seats.  Anatol  procured  a  chair  for  Natasha,  and 
was  just  going  to  sit  next  her ;  but  the  county  keeping  a  sharp 
eye  on  his  daughter,  took  the  seat  next  her.  Anatol  sat  be- 
hind. 

Mademoiselle  Georges,  with  plump  and  dimpled  arms  all 
bare,  and  with  a  red  shawl  flung  across  one  shoulder,  came  out 
into  the  space  around  which  the  chairs  were  ranged,  and 
assumed  an  unnatural  pose.  A  murmur  of  admiration  was 
heard. 

Mademoiselle  Georges  threw  a  stem  and  gloomy  glance 
around,  and  began  to  recite  certain  lines  in  French,  in  which 
the  guilty  love  of  a  mother  for  her  son  is  delineated.  In 
places  she  raised  her  voice  ;  then,  again,  she  spoke  in  a  whis- 
per, triumphantly  tossing  her  head ;  and  in  other  places  she 
broke  short  off,  or  spoke  in  deep,  hoarse  tones,  rolling  her  eyes. 

"  Adorable  !"..."  Divin !''..."  D^licieux  I "  were  the 
encomiums  heard  on  all  sides. 

Natasha's  eyes  were  fastened  on  the  stout  actress,  but  she 
heard  nothing,  saw  nothing,  understood  nothing  of  what  was 
going  on  before  her ;  she  felt  that  she  was  irrevocably  drawn 
again  into  that  strange,  mad  world,  so  far  removed  £rom  the 
past  world,  where  it  was  impossible  to  know  what  was  right 
and  what  was  wrong,  what  was  reasonable  and  what  was 
foolish.  Behind  her  sat  Anatol,  and  she  was  conscious  of  his 
nearness,  and  with  terror  awaited  some  development. 

After  the  first  monologue,  the  whole  company  arose  and 
crowded  around  Mademoiselle  Georges,  expressing  their 
delight  and  enthusiasm. 

"  How  beautiful  she  is ! "  said  Natasha  to  her  father,  who 
had  got  up  with  the  rest,  and  was  starting  to  push  his  way 
through  the  throng  toward  the  actress. 

"  I  cannot  think  so  when  I  look  at  you,"  said  Anatol,  sitting 
down  next  Natasha.  He  spoke  so  that  no  one  else  coiild  hear 
what  he  said :  "  You  are  charming.  .  .  .  Since  the  first  mo- 
ment that  I  saw  you,  I  have  not  ceased  "  — 

"  Come,  let  us  go,  Natasha,"  interrupted  the  count,  return- 
ing to  his  daughter.  "  How  pretty  she  is  ! "  Natasha,  mak- 
ing no  reply,  followed  her  father,  but  gave  Anatol  a  look  of 
wondering  amazement. 

After  several  more  recitations,  Mademoiselle  Georges  took 
her  departure,  and  the  Countess  Bezukhaya  invited  her  guests 
into  the  ballroom. 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  357 

The  count  wanted  to  go  home,  but  Ellen  begged  him  not  to 
spoil  her  improvised  ball.  The  Kostofs  remained.  Anatol 
took  Natasha  out  for  a  valse ;  and  while  they  were  on  the 
floor,  and  he  clasped  her  waist  and  hand,  he  told  her  that  she 
was  ravissantSftaind  that  he  loved  her. 

During  the  Ecossaise,  which  she  danced  with  Kuragin  also, 
Anatol  said  nothing  to  her  while  they  were  by  themselves, 
but  merely  gazed  at  her.  Natasha  was  in  doubt  whether  she 
had  not  dreamed  what  he  said  to  her  during  the  valse. 

At  the  end  of  the  first  figure  he  again  pressed  her  hand. 
Natasha  lifted  startled  eyes  to  his ;  but  his  look  and  his 
smile  had  such  an  expression  of  self-confidence  and  flattering 
tenderness  that  she  found  it  impossible  to  look  at  him  and 
say  to  him  what  was  on  her  tongue  to  say.  She  dropped  her 
eyes. 

"Do  not  say  such  things  to  me  ;  I  am  betrothed  —  I  love 
another,"  she  hurriedly  whispered. 

She  glanced  at  him.  Anatol  was  not  in  the  least  confused 
or  chagrined  at  what  she  said. 

"  Don't  speak  to  me  about  that.  What  difference  does  it 
make  to  me  ?  "  he  asked.  "  I  tell  you  I  am  madly,  madly  in 
love  with  you.  Am  I  to  blame  because  you  are  bewitching  ? 
•  .  .  It's  our  turn  to  lead." 

Natasha,  excited  and  anxious,  looked  around  with  wide, 
frightened  eyes,  and  gave  the  impression  of  being  gayer  than 
usual.  She  remembered  almost  nothing  of  whjit  took  place 
that  evening.  While  they  were  dancing  the  Ecossaise  and 
the  Grossvater,  her  father  came  and  urged  her  to  go  home 
with  him,  but  she  begged  to  stay  a  little  longer. 

Wherever  she  was,  whoever  engaged  her  in  conversation, 
she  was  conscious  all  the  time  of  his  eyes  upon  her.  After- 
wards she  remembered  asking  her  father's  permission  to  go  to 
the  dressing-room  to  adjust  her  dress,  and  how  Ellen  followed 
her,  and  told  her  with  a  laugh  that  her  brother  was  in  love 
with  her.  She  remembered  how,  in  the  little  divan-room,  she 
had  again  met  Anatol,  how  Ellen  had  suddenly  disappeared, 
leaving  her  alone  with  him,  and  how  Anatol,  seizing  her  hand, 
had  said,  in  a  tender  voice :  — 

"I  cannot  call  upon  you,  but  must  I  never  see  you?  I 
love  you  madly,  desperately !  Can  I  not  see  you  ?  "  And  then 
blocking  her  way,  he  had  bent  down  his  face  close  to  her 
face. 

His  great,  gleaming,  masculine  eyes  were  so  near  to  her 
face  that  she  could  see  nothing  else  except  those  eyes  of  his. 


368  ^AR  AND  PKACE, 

"  Nathalie  ?  "  she  heard  his  voice  whisper,  with  a  question- 
ing inflection,  and  her  hand  was  squeezed  almost  painfully. 

"Nathalie?" 

''  I  do  not  understand  at  all ;  I  have  nothing  to  say/'  said 
her  glance. 

His  glowing  lips  approached  her  lips  —  but  at  that  instant 
she  felt  that  her  deliverance  had  come,  for  the  sound  of  Ellen's 
footsteps  and  rustle  of  her  dress  were  heard  in  the  room. 

Natasha  glanced  at  Ellen ;  then,  blushing  and  trembling,  she 
gave  him  a  terrified,  questioning  look,  and  started  for  the 
door. 

'^  Un  motf  un  seuly  au  nam  de  Dieu^^  said  Anatol.  She 
paused.  She  felt  that  it  was  a  necessity  for  her  to  hear  that 
"single  word,"  which  would  afford  her  an  explanation  of 
what  had  happened,  and  allow  her  something  tangible  to  an- 
swer. 

"  Nathalie,  un  mot,  un  seul,^^  he  kept  repeating,  evidently 
not  knowing  what  to  say;  and  he  repeated  it  until  Ellen 
came  close  to  him.  Ellen  and  Natasha  returned  together  to 
the  drawing-room.  Declining  the  invitation  to  stay  to  supper 
the  Kostofs  went  home. 

That  night  Natasha  could  not  sleep  at  all.  She  was  tor- 
mented by  the  question,  which  she  could  not  answer,  which 
she  loved,  Anatol  or  Prince  Andrei  ?  She  loved  Prince  Andrei, 
—  she  had  a  very  distinct  remembrance  of  how  warmly  she 
loved  him. 

But  she  loved  Anatol  also,  there  could  be  no  doubt  about  that. 
"  Otherwise,  how  could  all  this  have  taken  place  ?  "  she  asked 
herself.  "  If  it  was  possible  for  me,  on  saying  good-by  to  him, 
to  answer  his  smiles  with  smiles ;  if  I  could  permit  myself  to 
go  so  far,  then  of  course  I  was  in  love  with  him  at  first  sight. 
He  certainly  is  good  and  noble  and  handsome,  and  it  is  impos- 
sible not  to  be  in  love  with  him.  What  can  I  do  when  I  love 
him  and  love  the  other  too  ?  "  she  asked  herself,  and  found  no 
solution  to  the  vexing  problem. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

Morning  came,  with  its  usual  occupations  and  bustle.  All 
arose,  stirred  about,  engaged  in  talk ;  once  more  the  modistes 
came ;  again  Marya  Dmitrievna  ap])eared  and  summoned  them 
down  to  tea. 

Natasha^  with  wide-open  eyes,  as  though  trying  to  anticipate 


WAR  AHD  PSACB.  S69 

and  intercept  every  glance  fixed  upon  her,  looked  anxiously 
about,  and  struggled  to  seem  the  same  as  usual. 

After  breakfast,  which  was  her  favorite  time,  Marya  Dmi- 
trievna  sat  down  in  her  easy-chair,  and  called  Natasha  and  the 
old  count  to  her. 

"  Well,"  —  with  strong  emphasis  on  the  word,  —  "  well,  my 
friends,  now  I  have  thought  the  whole  matter  over,  and  this  is 
my  advice,"  she  began.  "  Yesterday,  as  you  know,  I  went  to 
see  Prince  Nikolai.  Well,"  again  with  strong  emphasis,  "  I 
had  an  interview  with  him.  He  thought  to  shout  me  down, 
but  I  am  not  to  be  shouted  down  so  easily.  I  had  it  all  out  with 
him." 

"  Well,  what  did  he  do  ?  "  asked  the  count. 

"  *  What  did  he  do  ? '  He  is  a  raving  maniac  —  won't  listen 
to  anything.  Well,  what's  the  use  of  talking  ?  And,  mean- 
while, we  are  tormenting  this  poor  girl  so ! "  said  Marya  Dmi- 
trievna.  "  And  my  advice  to  you  is  to  transact  your  business, 
and  go  home — to  Otradnoye  —  and  there  wait  till "  — 

"  Oh,  no ! "  —  cried  Natasha. 

"  Yes,  you  must  go,"  maintained  Marya  Dmitrievna,  '*  and 
wait  there.  If  your  betrothed  should  come  here  now,  there 
would  infallibly  be  a  quarrel ;  but  if  he  is  left  alone  with  the 
old  man  they  will  tSlk  the  whole  thing  over  calmly,  and  then 
he  will  come  for  you." 

Ilya  Andreyitch  approved  of  this  plan,  which  instantly  ap- 
pealed to  his  good  judgment.  If  the  old  prince  was  appeased, 
then  they  could  rejoin  him  at  Moscow  or  Luisiya  Gorui ;  if  not, 
as  it  would  be  contrary  to  his  wishes,  then  the  wedding  could 
take  place  at  Otradnoye. 

"  That  is  true  as  gospel,"  said  he.  "  Only  I  am  sorry  that  I 
went  there  and  took  her,"  saiithe  old  count. 

"  There's  nothing  to  be  sorry  for.  As  long  as  you  were  here 
you  couldn't  help  paying  him  that  mark  of  respect.  Well,  if 
he  does  not  approve,  it  is  his  affair,"  said  Marya  Dmitrievna, 
making  search  for  something  in  her  reticule.  "  Besides,  the 
trausseau  is  all  ready,  so  what  have  you  to  wait  for ;  and  what 
isn't  ready  I  will  send  to  you.  Indeed,  I  am  sorry  about  it,  but 
\  you  would  be  much  better  off  to  return  —  and  God  be  with 
you ! "  Having  succeed^  in  finding  what  she  was  searching  for, 
she  handed  it  to  Natasm  It  was  a  letter  from  the  Princess 
Mariya.  "  She's  written  to  you.  How  she  torments  herself, 
poor  soul !  She  is  afraid  you  will  imagine  she  does  not  like 
you." 

"  Well,  and  she  doesn't  like  me,"  said  Natasha. 


860  ^AR  ANb  PEACE. 

''Nonsense!  Don't  say  such  a  thing/'  cried  Maiya  Dmi- 
trievna. 

''  I  take  no  one's  opinion.  I  know  she  does  not  like  me/' 
said  Natasha  boldly,  snatching  the  letter,  and  her  face  assumed 
such  an  expression  of  hard  and  angry  determination  that  it 
caused  Marya  Dmitrievna  to  look  at  her  more  closely  and 
frown. 

''  Don't  you  contradict  me  that  way,  mdtushka,"  said  she. 
"  What  I  tell  you  is  the  truth.     Go  and  reply  to  her  letter." 

Natasha  made  no  rejoinder,  and  retired  to  her  own  room  to 
read  the  Princess  Manya's  letter. 

The  princess  wrote  that  she  was  in  despair,  owing  to  the 
misunderstanding  that  had  arisen  between  them.  Whatever 
were  her  father's  feelings,  she  wrote,  she  besought  Natasha 
to  be  assured  that  it  was  impossible  for  her  not  to  love  her,  as 
the  choice  of  her  brother,  for  whose  happiness  she  was  ready 
to  sacrifice  everything. 

"  Moreover,"  she  wrote,  "  do  not  imagine  that  my  father  was 
unkindly  disposed  toward  you.  He  is  old  and  feeble,  and  you 
must  excuse  him ;  but  he  is  good  and  generous,  and  will  not 
fail  to  love  the  one  who  can  make  his  son  happy." 

The  princess  further  asked  Natasha  to  appoint  a  time  when 
they  could  have  another  meeting.  * 

After  reading  the  letter  through,  Natasha  sat  down  at  the 
writing-desk  to  pen  a  reply. 

''  Ch^re  princesscy^  she  wrote,  hastily  and  mechanically,  and 
paused.  What  more  could  she  write,  after  all  that  had  taken 
place  the  evening  before  ? 

'^  Yes,  yes,  all  that  is  past,  and  now,  already,  everything  is 
different,"  she  said  to  herself,  as  she  pondered  over  the  letter 
that  refused  to  be  written.  "  Ought  I  to  reject  him  ?  Is  it 
really  my  duty  ?  It  is  frightful ! "  And,  to  escape  from  these 
terrible  thoughts,  she  went  to  Sonya,  and  began  to  help  her 
pick  out  her  embroidery  patterns. 

After  dinner  Natasha  a^ain  retired  to  her  room,  and  took  up 
the  Princess  Mariya's  letter. 

"  Can  it  be  that  all  is  really  over  between  us  ?  "  she  mused. 
''Can  it  be  that  this  has  happened  so  quickly,  and  that  all  tliat 
is  past  is  completely  annihilated  ?  " 

She  recalled,  in  all  its  intensity,  her  love  for  Prince  Andrei, 
and  yet,  at  the  same  time,  she  felt  that  she  was  in  love  with 
Kuragin.  She  vividly  pictured  herself  as  Prince  Andrei's  wife, 
and  recalled  those  dreams  of  happiness  with  him  which  she 
had  so  many  times  enjoyed  in  unagiuation,  and  at  the  same 


WAR  AND  PEACH.  861 

time,  fired  with  passionate  emotions,  she  recalled  eveiy  detail 
of  her  last  meeting  with  Anatol. 

"  Why,  could  it  be  possible  to  love  them  both  at  once  ?  "  she 
more  than  once  asked  herself,  in  the  depths  of  perplexity. 
"  Then  only  could  I  be  perfectly  happy ;  but  now  I  must  choose, 
and  I  cannot  be  happy  to  be  deprived  of  either  of  them.  One 
thing  is  certain,"  she  thought,  ^<  to  tell  Prince  Andrei  what  has 
happened,  or  to  hide  it  from  him,  is  impossible.  But  as  far 
as  he  is  concerned  no  harm  has  been  done.  Can  I  break  off 
forever,  though,  with  that  delicious  love  for  Prince  Andrei,  to 
whom  my  life  has  been  devoted  so  long  ?  " 

"  B4ruishnya,"  said  a  maid,  in  a  whisper,  and  coming  into 
the  room  with  a  mysterious  face,  "  a  nice  little  man  told  me 
to  give  you  this."  The  maid  handed  her  a  note.  "  Only  for 
Christ's  sake "  —  she  exclaimed,  as  Natasha,  without  think- 
ing, mechanically  broke  the  seal  and  began  to  read.  It  was  a 
love-letter  from  Anatol,  and,  while  she  did  not  comprehend  a 
word  of  it,  she  comprehended  enough  to  know  that  it  was 
from  him,  from  the  man  she  loved.  Yes,  she  loved  him, 
else  how  could  happen  what  had  happened  ?  How  could  she 
have  in  her  hand  a  love-letter  from  him  ? 

With  trembling  hands  Natasha  held  this  passionate  love- 
letter,  composed  for  Anatol  by  Dolokhof,  and  in  reading  it  she 
found  it  contained  what  corresponded  to  everything  which  it 
seemed  to  her  she  herself  felt. 

"  Last  evening  decided  my  fate  ;  you  must  love  me,  or  I  die. 
I  have  no  other  alternative."  So  the  letter  began.  Then  he 
proceeded  to  say  that  he  knew  her  parents  would  not  con- 
sent to  her  marriage  to  him  for  various  secret  reasons  which 
he  could  reveal  to  her  alone,  but  that  if  she  loved  him,  it  was 
enough  for  her  to  say  the  little  word  yes,  and  no  mortal  power 
could  suffice  to  destroy  their  bliss.  Love  conquers  all.  He 
would  spirit  her  away,  and  fly  with  her  to  the  ends  of  the 
earth. 

"Yes,  yes,  I  love  him,"  mused  Natasha,  as  she  read  the 
letter  over  for  the  twentieth  time,  and  tried  to  discover  some 
peculiarly  deep  meaning  in  every  word. 

That  evening  Marya  Dmitrievna  was  going  to  the  Ar- 
kharofs',  and  she  invited  the  young  ladies  to  accompany 
her.  Natasha,  under  the  pretext  of  a  headache,  remained  at 
home. 


862  W^^  ^^^  PEACE. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

Sony  A,  on  her  return  late  that  evening,  went  to  Natasha's 
room,  and,  to  her  amazement,  found  her  still  dressed,  and 
asleep  on  the  sofa.  On  the  table  near  her  lay  Anatol's  letter, 
wide  open.  Sonya  picked  the  letter  up,  and  proceeded  to 
read  it. 

She  read  it  through,  and  gazed  at  the  sleeping  Natasha, 
trying  to  discover  in  her  face  some  key  to  the  mystery  of 
what  she  had  read,  and  finding  none.  The  expression  of 
Natasha's  face  was  calm  and  sweet  and  happy. 

Sonya,  pale,  and  trembling  with  fright  and  emotion,  clutch- 
ing her  breast  lest  she  should  choke,  sat  down  in  an  easy-chair 
and  melted  into  tears. 

'^  How  is  it  I  have  seen  nothing  of  this  ?  How  can  this 
have  gone  so  far  ?  Is  it  possible  she  has  ceased  to  love 
Prince  Andrei  ?  And  how  can  she  tolerate  this  Kuragin  ? 
He  is  a  deceiver  and  a  scoundrel  —  that  is  evident.  AVhat 
will  Nicolas  do,  dear,  noble  Nicolas,  when  he  learns  of 
this  ?  So  this  is  what  caused  her  agitation  and  unnatural  be- 
havior for  the  last  three  days,"  said  Sonjra  to  herself.  "  But 
it  is  impossible  that  she  is  in  love  with  him.  Most  likely  she 
opened  the  letter  without  knowing  from  whom  it  came.  In 
all  probability  she  was  offended.  She  couldn't  have  done 
such  a  thing  knowingly." 

Sonya  wiped  away  her  tears,  and  went  close  to  Natasha,  and 
scrutinized  her  face. 

<<  Natasha !  "  she  murmured,  almost  inaudibly. 

Natasha  awoke  and  looked  at  Sonya. 

''  Ah,  are  you  back  already  ?  "  And  in  the  impulse  of  the 
sudden  awakening  she  gave  her  friend  a  warm  and  affectionate 
hug,  but  instantly  noticing  that  Sonya's  face  was  troubled,  her 
face  also  became  troubled  and  suspicious. 

<<  Sonya,  have  you  been  reading  that  letter  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Yes,"  murmured  Sonya. 

Natasha  smiled  triumphantly.  ''No,  Sonya^  it  is  impossible 
to  hold  out  any  longer,"  said  she.  ''  I  cannot  hide  it  from  you 
any  more.  You  know,  we  love  each  other.  —  Sonya,  my 
darling,  he  has  written  me  —  Sonya  "  — 

Sonya,  not  believing  her  own  ears,  stared  at  Natasha  with 
open  eyes. 

''  But  Bolkonsky  I "  she  exclaimed. 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  868 

"Akh!  Sony  a  —  akh  !  if  you  could  only  know  how  happy 
I  am !  '^  cried  Natasha.     ^'  You  can't  imacnne  what  such  love 


is" 


^^  But,  Natasha^  do  you  mean  to  say  that  t?ie  other  is  all  at 
an  end  ?  " 

Natasha  gazed  at  Sonya  with  wid&open  eyes,  as  though 
she  did  not  understand  her  question. 

"  What,  have  you  broken  with  Prince  Andrei  ?  "  demanded 
Sonya. 

''Akh!  you  can't  comprehend  it;  don't  talk  nonsense. 
Listen  to  me,"  said  Natasha,  with  a  flash  of  ill  temper. 

"No,  I  cannot  believe  this,"  insisted  Sonya.  "I  cannot 
understand  it.  How  can  you  have  loved  one  man  a  whole 
year,  and  then  suddenly  —  Why,  you  have  only  seen  him 
three  times  I  Natasha,  I  don't  believe  you.  You  are  joking ! 
In  three  days  to  forget  everything  ?  and  so  "  — 

"  Three  days ! "  interrupted  Natasha.  "  It  seems  to  me  as 
if  I  had  loved  him  for  a  hundred  years.  It  seems  to  me  as 
if  I  had  never  loved  any  one  else  before  him.  You  cannot 
comprehend  it.  Sonya,  wait ;  sit  down ! "  Natasha  threw 
her  arms  around  her,  and  kissed  her.  "I  have  been 
told,  and  you  have  probably  heard,  that  such  love  as  this 
existed ;  but  now  for  the  first  tii^e  I  experience  it.  It  is  not 
like  the  one  before.  The  moment  I  set  eyes  on  him,  I  felt 
that  he  was  my  master,  that  I  was  his  slave,  and  that  I  could 
not  help  loving  him.  Yes,  his  slave !  Whatever  he  com- 
mands me,  I  obey  him.  You  can't  understand  that.  What 
can  I  do?  What  can  I  do,  Sonya  ?  "  pleaded  Natasha,  with  a 
happy,  frightened  face. 

"  But  just  think  what  you  are  doing,"  insisted  Sonya.  "  I 
cannot  let  this  go  on.  This  clandestine  correspondence !  How 
could  you  permit  him  to  go  so  far  ?  "  asked  she,  with  a  horror 
and  aversion  which  she  tried  in  vain  to  hide. 

"  I  have  told  you,"  replied  Natasha,  "  that  I  have  no  will 
about  it !    Why  can't  you  understand  ?    I  love  him ! " 

"  Then  I  will  not  let  it  go  any  farther.  I  shall  tell  the 
whole  story,"  cried  Sonya,  with  a  burst  of  tears. 

"  For  Grod's  sake  —  I  beg  of  you  —  if  you  tell,  you  are  not 
my  friend ! "  exclaimed  Natasha.  "  Do  you  wish  me  to  be  un- 
happy ?    Do  you  wish  to  separate  us  "  — 

Seeing  how  passionately  excited  Natasha  was,  Sonya  shed 
tears  of  shame  and  regret  for  her  friend. 

" But  what  has  passed  between  you  ?  "  she  asked.  "What 
has  he  said  to  you  ?    Why  doesn't  he  Qome  to  the  hou^e  ?  " 


864  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

Natasha  made  no  reply  to  this  question. 

"  For  God's  sake,  Sonya,  don't  tell  any  one,  don't  torment 
me,"  entreated  Natsisha.  "  Remember  it's  never  right  to  in- 
terfere in  such  matters.     I  have  trusted  you  "  — 

"  But  why  all  this  secrecy  ?  Why  doesn't  he  come  to  the 
house  ?  "  insisted  Sonya.  "  Why  doesn't  he  openly  ask  for 
your  hand  ?  You  know  Prince  Andrei  gave  you  absolute  free- 
dom, if  such  were  the  case ;  but  I  don't  believe  in  this  man. 
Natasha,  have  you  considered  what  his  secret  reasons  may  be  ?  " 

.  Natasha  gazed  at  Sonya  with  wondering  eyes.  Evidently 
this  question  had  not  occurred  to  her  before,  and  she  knew 
not  what  answer  to  make. 

"  What  reasons  ?  I  don't  know.  But  of  course  there  must 
be  reasons." 

Sonya  sighed,  and  shook  her  head  incredulously. 

"  If  there  were  reasons  "  —  she  began ;  but  Natasha,  fore- 
seeing her  objections,  with  frightened  eagerness  interrupted 
her,  — 

"  Sonya,  it  is  impossible  to  doubt  him,  impossible,  wholly 
impossible,  do  you  understand  ?  "  she  cried. 

"  Does  he  love  you  ?  " 

"  Love  me ! "  repeated  Natasha,  with  a  smile  of  contemptu- 
ous pity  for  her  friend's  inci:pdulity.  "  You  have  read  his  let- 
ter, you  have  seen  him,  haven't  you  ?  " 

<*  But  if  he  were  a  dishonorable  man  ?  " 

"  He  !  a  dishonorable  man !  If  you  knew  him  ! "  exclaimed 
Natasha. 

"  If  he  were  an  honorable  man,  then  he  ought  either  to  ex- 
plain his  intentions,  or  else  cease  to  see  vou ;  and  if  you  are  not 
willing  to  do  this,  then  I  shall.  I  shall  write  him,  I  shall  tell 
your  papa,"  said  Sonya,  decidedly. 

"  But  I  cannot  live  without  him,"  cried  Natasha. 

"Natasha,  I  don't  understand  you!  What  are  you  say- 
ing ?      Think  of  your  father,  think  of  Nicolas." 

"  I  want  no  one,  I  love  no  one  but  him !  How  do  you  dare 
to  assert  that  he  is  dishonorable  ?  Don't  you  know  that  I 
love  him  ? "  cried  Natasha.  "  Sonya,  go,  I  don't  wish  to 
quarrel  with  you  !  go  away,  for  God's  sake,  go  away !  you  see 
how  tormented  I  am,"  screamed  Natasha,  in  a  voice  of  re- 
pressed anger  and  despair.  Sonya  began  to  sob,  and  rushed 
from  the  room. 

Natasha  went  to  her  writing-table,  and  without  pausing  a 
moment  wrote  the  letter  to  the  Princess  Mariya  which  she 
bad  not  been  able  to  write  tl^e  morning  before.    In  this  letter, 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  365 

she  laconically  informed  the  princess  that  all  misunderstand- 
ings  were  at  an  end,  that  taking  advantage  of  Prince  Andrei's 
generosity  in  giving  her  perfect  freedom,  she  begged  her  to 
forget  all  that  had  happened,  and  to  forgive  her  if  she  had 
been  to  blame  in  respect  to  her ;  but  that  she  could  never  be 
his  wife.  At  that  moment  all  seemed  to  her  so  easy,  simple, 
and  clear ! 

The  Rostof s  were  to  start  for  the  country  on  Friday,  and  on 
Wednesday  the  count  went  with  an  intending  purchaser  to  his 
Pod-Moskovnaya  estate. 

On  the  day  of  the  count's  trip,  Sonya  and  Natasha  were  in- 
vited to  a  great  dinner  at  the  Kuragins,  and  Marya  Dmitrievna 
went  as  their  chaperone. 

At  this  dinner,  Natasha  again  met  Anatol,  and  Sonya  ob- 
served that  Natasha  had  some  mysterious  convei*sation  with 
him,  which  she  evidently  wished  not  to  be  overheard ;  and 
during  all  the  dinner-time  she  seemed  to  be  more  agitated  than 
ever.  On  their  return  home,  Natasha  was  the  first  to  begin 
the  explanation  which  her  friend  was  anxious  for. 

"  There,  Sonya,  you  have  said  all  sorts  of  foolish  things 
about  him,"  Natasha  began,  in  a  cajoling  tone,  such  as  chil- 
dren use  when  they  want  to  be  flattered.  "  He  and  I  came  to 
a  clear  understanding  to^ay." 

"  Now,  what  do  you  mean  ?  What  did  he  say,  Natasha  ? 
How  glad  I  am  that  you  are  not  vexed  with  me !  Tell  me 
all,  tell  me  the  whole  story.     What  did  he  say  to  you  ?  " 

Natasha  pondered,  — 

"  Akh !  Sonya,  if  you  only  knew  him  as  I  do  —  He  said  — 
he  asked  me  what  sort  of  an  engagement  I  had  with  Bolkon- 
sky.     He  was  delighted  that  it  depended  on  me  to  break  it  off." 

Sonya  sighed  mournfully,  — 

"  But  you  haven't  broken  your  engagement  with  Bolkonsky, 
have  you  ?  " 

"  Well,  perhaps  I  have  broken  my  engagpment  with  Bolkon- 
sky !  Perhaps  it  is  all  at  an  end !  What  makes  you  have 
such  hard  thoughts  of  me  ?  " 

"  I  have  no  hard  thoughts  of  you ;  only  I  can't  understand 
this  "  — 

"  Wait,  Sonya,  and  you  will  understand  the  whole  thing. 
You  will  learn  what  a  man  he  is !  But  don't  harbor  hard 
thoughts  of  me,  or  of  him  either." 

'<  I  harbor  no  hard  thoughts  of  any  one :  I  love  you  and 
I  em  gorry  for  you  all.    But  what  am  I  to  do  ?  " 


866  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

Sonya^  hovever,  was  not  blinded  by  the  affectionate  manner 
in  which  Natasha  treated  her.  The  more  gentle  and  insinuat- 
ing Natasha's  face  grew,  the  more  stern  and  serious  became 
Sonya's  face. 

"  Natasha,"  said  she,  "  you  yourself  begged  me  not  to  say  any 
more  about  this  to  you,  and  I  have  not ;  and  now  you  re-open 
it  yourself.  Natasha,  I  don't  have  any  faith  in  him.  Why 
all  this  mystery  ?  " 

"  There,  you  begin  again ! "  interposed  Natasha. 

"  Natasha,  I  am  afraid  for  you." 

"  Why  should  you  be  afraid  for  me  ?  " 

'^  I  am  afraid  that  you  are  going  to  your  ruin,"  said  Sonya, 
in  a  resolute  voice,  frightened  herself  at  what  she  said. 

An  angry  look  again  came  into  Natasha's  face. 

"  I  will  go  to  my  ruin,  I  certainly  will,  and  the  faster  the 
better.  It's  no  affair  of  youra.  It  won't  hurt  you,  even  if  it 
does  hurt  me.     Leave  me,  leave  !  I  hate  you !  " 

"  Natasha !  "  expostulated  Sonya,  in  dismay. 

"I  hate  you!  I  hate  you!  We  can  never  be  friends  any 
more ! " 

Natasha  rushed  out  of  the  room. 

Natasha  had  nothing  more  to  say  to  Sonya,  and  avoided 
her.  With  that  peculiar  expression  of  nervous  pre-occupation 
and  guilt,  she  wandered  up  and  down  the  rooms,  trying  one 
occupation  after  another,  and  instantly  abandoning  them. 

Hard  as  this  was  for  Sonya,  she  did  not  let  her  out  of  her 
sight  for  a  single  moment,  but  followed  her  everywhere  she 
went. 

On  the  day  before  the  count's  return,  Sonya  observed  that 
Natasha  spent  the  whole  morning  at  the  parlor  window,  as 
though  in  expectation  of  some  one ;  and  that  she  made  some 
sort  of  a  signal  to  an  officer  who  drove  by,  and  who  Sonya 
thought  must  have  been  Anatol. 

Sonya  began  to  observe  her  fHend  still  more  closely,  and 
Iremarked  that  during  all  dinner-time  and  throughout  the  even- 
ing, Natasha  was  in  a  strange  and  unnatural  state  of  excite- 
ment, answering  at  random  the  questions  that  were  asked  her, 
beginning  and  not  finishing  sentences,  and  laughing  at  every- 
thing. 

After  tea,  Sonya  saw  a  timid  chambermaid  watching  for 
her  at  Natasha's  door.  She  let  her  pass  in,  and  listening  at 
the  keyhole  discovered  that  she  was  the  bearer  of  another 
letter. 

And  suddenly  it  became  clear  to  Sonya  that  Natasha  had 


WAR  AND  PEACE,  867 

some  terrible  plan  on  foot  for  that  evening.  Sonya  knocked 
loudly  at  her  door.     Natasha  refused  to  admit  her. 

"  She  is  going  to  elope  with  him ! "  said  Sonya  to  herself. 
"She  is  quite  ready  for  anything.  Her  face  to-day  had  a 
peculiarly  pitiful  and  determined  expression.  She  wept  when 
she  said  good-by  to  her  father  yesterday,"  Sonya  remembered. 
"  Yes,  it  is  evident  that  she  is  going  to  elope  with  him  !  What 
can  I  do  about  it?"  mused  Sonya,  now  rf calling  all  the  cir- 
cumstances that  now  made  her  think  Natasha  had  adopted 
some  terrible  resolution.  "  The  count  is  away.  What  can  I 
do  ?  Write  to  Kuragin  and  demand  of  him  an  explanation  ? 
But  who  would  make  him  reply  to  it?  Write  to  Pierre, 
as  Prince  Andrei  told  me  to  do  in  case  of  misfortune  —  But 
perhaps  she  has  already  broken  with  Bolkonsky  !  Certainly 
Natasha  sent  her  letter  to  the  princess  last  evening  —  If  her 
father  were  only  here !  " 

It  seemed  terrible  to  tell  Marya  Dmitrievna,  who  had  such 
confidence  in  Natasha,  "  But  what  else  can  I  do  ? "  mused 
Sonya,  as  she  stood  in  the  dark  corridor.  "  Now  or  never  is  the 
time  to  show  that  I  am  grateful  to  this  dear  family,  and  that 
I  love  Nicolas.  No !  even  if  I  have  to  stay  awake  for  three 
nights,  I  will  not  leave  this  corridor,  and  I  will  detain  her  by 
main  force ;  and  I  will  not  allow  any  scandal  to  happen  to  th& 
family/'  she  said  to  herself. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

Ai^ATOii  had  recently  transferred  his  lodgings  to  Dolokhof 's 
house.  The  plan  of  abducting  the  young  countess  had  been 
suggested  and  arranged  by  Dolokhof  some  days  before,  and 
on  that  day  when  Sonya,  listening  at  Natasha's  door,  had 
determined  to  protect  her,  this  scheme  was  all  ready  to  be  car- 
ried into  execution. 

Natasha  had  agreed  to  meet  Kuragin  at  ten  o'clock  that 
evening,  at  the  rear  entrance.  Kui-agiii  was  to  place  her  in  a 
troika  which  should  be  in  waiting,  and  carry  her  sixty  versts 
to  the  village  of  Kamienko,  where  an  unfrocked  pope  would 
be  in  readiness  to  perfonn  a  mock  marriage  ceremony.  At 
Kamienko  a  relay  would  be  ready  to  take  them  toward  War- 
saw, and  thence  by  regular  stages  they  would  make  their 
escape  abroad. 

Anatol  had  his  passport  and  his  jpadorozhnaya^  or  order  for 


368  yVAR  AND  PEACE. 

post-horses,  and  ten  thousand  rubles  obtained  from  his  sister, 
and  ten  thousand  obtained  through  Dolokhof  s  mediation. 

Two  witnesses  —  Khvostikof ,  formerly  a  law  clerk,  who  was 
now  a  creature  of  Dolokhof  s,  and  Makarin,  a  hussar  on  the 
retired  list,  a  weak  and  good-natured  fellow  who  had  an  inor- 
dinate affection  for  Kuragin  —  were  sitting  in  the  front  room 
over  their  tea. 

In  Dolokhof 's  large  cabinet,  the  walls  of  which  were  hung 
from  floor  to  ceiling  with  Persian  rugs,  bear  skins,  and 
weapons,  sat  Dolokliof  himself,  in  a  travelling  beshmet  and 
top-boots,  before  an  open  desk,  on  which  lay  bills  and  pack- 
ages of  money.  Anatol,  in  his  uniform,  unbuttoned,  came  in 
from  the  room  where  the  two  witnesses  were  sitting,  and  was 
passing  through  the  cabinet  into  the  adjoining  room,  where 
his  French  valet  and  another  servant  were  packing  up  the  last 
remaining  effects. 

Dolokhof  was  making  out  the  accounts  and  writing  the 
amounts  on  a  sheet  of  paper. 

"Well !"  said  he,  "you  will  have  to  give  two  thousand  to 
Khvostikof." 

"  All  right,  give  it  to  him ! "  said  Anatol. 

"  Makarka  "  —  this  was  an  affectionate  nickname  for  Maka- 
rin  —  "  is  so  disinterested  that  he  would  go  through  fire  and 
water  for  you.  There  now,  the  accounts  are  all  made  out," 
said  Dolokhof,  calling  his  attention  to  the  paper.  "  Is  that 
right  ?  " 

"  Yes,  of  course  it  is,"  said  Anatol,  evidently  not  heeding 
what  was  said,  and  looking  into  vacancy  with  a  dreamy 
expression,  and  a  smile  that  did  not  leave  his  face. 

Dolokhof  shut  the  desk  with  a  slam,  and  turned  to  Kuragin 
with  an  amused  smile :  — 

"  But  see  here,  now !  you'd  better  give  this  up ;  there's 
still  time,"  said  he. 

"  Fool !  durak  !  "  said  Anatol,  "  stop  talking  nonsense.  If 
you  only  knew !  But  only  the  devil  knows  what  this  is  to 
me!" 

"  Honestly  I  Throw  it  up ! "  said  Dolokhof.  "  Til  tell  you 
the  honest  truth.  Do  you  imagine  that  this  is  a  joke  that 
you  are  going  into  ?  " 

"  There  you  are  stirring  me  up  again.  Go  to  the  devil," 
exclaimed  Anatol,  scowling :  "  I  have  no  time  to  listen  to  your 
idiotic  twaddle  ! "     And  he  started  to  leave  the  room. 

Dolokhof  smiled  scoruf ully  and  condescendingly  as  Anatol 
turned  away. 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  869 

"Wait,"  lie  cried  after  him,  "I  am  not  joking,  I  am  telling 
you  the  truth ;  come  here,  come  here,  I  say ! " 

Anatol  came  back  into  the  room  again,  and  trying  to  concen- 
trate his  attention,  gazed  at  Dolokhof,  apparently  quite  under 
the  influence  of  his  will. 

"  Listen  to  me,  I  speak  for  the  last  time.  Why  should  T 
jest  with  you  ?  Have  I  done  anything  to  thwart  you  ?  Who 
is  it  that  has  made  all  the  arrangements  for  you,  who  found  your 
pope  for  you,  who  procured  your  passport,  who  got  the  money 
for  you  ?     Haven^t  I  done  the  whole  thing  ?  " 

"  Yes,  and  I  thank  you.  Do  you  imagine  I  am  not  grate- 
ful ?  " 

Anatol  sighed  and  embraced  his  friend. 

"  I  have  been  helping  you ;  but  it  is  my  place  to  tell  you 
the  truth :  it  is  a  dangerous  game,  and  if  it  misses  fire,  a 
stupid  one.  Suppose  you  elope  with  her  —  well  and  good. 
What  will  be  the  next  step  ?  It  will  be  discovered  that  you 
are  married.     You  will  be  prosecuted  as  a  criminal  "  — 

"  Akh  !  what  nonsense  !  what  stupid  nonsense  ! "  cried 
Anatol,  frowning  again.  "  Haven't  I  told  you  again  and 
again  ?  Hey  ?  "  And  Anatol,  with  that  peculiar  passion  for 
argument  characteristic  of  men  of  small  intellects,  when  they 
want  to  show  their  wit,  reiterated  the  considerations  which  he 
had  laid  before  Dolokhof  a  hundred  times.  "  I  have  told  you 
again  and  again :  my  mind  is  made  up :  if  this  marriage  is 
invalid,"  said  he,  doubling  over  his  finger,  "of  course  I  am 
not  responsible  for  it ;  well,  then,  suppose  it  is  valid ;  it's  just  ..^ 
the  same,  and,  when  we  are  abroad,  no  one  will  know  the*^ 
difference ;  that's  a  fact,  is  it  not  ?  So  say  no  more,  say  no 
more,  say  no  more  !  " 

"  But,  really,  give  it  up !  You  will  only  get  yourself  into 
a  scrape  "  — 

"  Go  to  the  devil !  "  screamed  Anatol,  and,  tearing  his  hair, 
he  rushed  into  the  next  room  ;  then  he  came  right  back,  and 
sat  down  a-straddle  of  a  chair  in  front  of  Dolokhof.  "  The 
devil  only  knows  what  this  is  to  me !  Hey  ?  Just  see,  how 
it  beats  !  "  He  took  Dolokhof's  hand  and  put  it  on  his  heart. 
"  Ah/  quel 2^^/  ffion  cher,  quel  regard  !  une  dee^se!     Hey  ?  " 

Dolokhof,  smiling  unsympathetically,  looked  at  him  out  of 
his  handsome,  impudent  eyes,  evidently  feeling  inclined  to 
have  a  little  more  sport  out  of  him. 

"  Well,  but  when  your  money  is  gone,  what  then  ?  "  ^ 

"  What  then  ?     Hey  ?  "    repeated  Anatol,  with  a  touch  of 
genuine  distress  at  the  thought  of  the  f utme.     "  What  then  ? 
vol,.  2.-24, 


870  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

I  am  sure  I  don't  know.  But  what  is  the  use  of  talking  non- 
sense."   He  looked  at  his  watch.     "  It's  time." 

Anatol  went  into  the  next  room.  "Hurry  up,  there! 
Aren't  you  almost  ready  ?  What  are  you  dawdung  so  for  ?  " 
he  cried,  addressing  the  servants. 

Dolokhof  put  up  the  money,  and,  shouting  to  his  man  to 
have  a  lunch  of  eatables  and  drinkables  prepared  for  the 
travellers  for  their  journey,  he  went  into  the  room  where 
Khvostikof  and  Makarin  were  waiting. 

Anatol  had  flung  himself  down  on  the  ottoman  in  the  cab- 
inet, and,  with  his  head  resting  on  his  hand,  was  dreamily 
smiling  and  whispering  low  and  tender  words. 

"  Come  and  have  something  to  eat.  Have  a  drink,  then ! " 
cried  Dolokhof  from  the  next  room. 

"I  don't  wish  anything,"  replied  Anatol,  still  with  the 
smile  on  his  handsome  lips. 

"  Come,  Balaga  is  here  ! " 

Anatol  got  up  and  went  into  the  dining-room.  Balaga  was  a 
famous  troika  driver,  who,  for  half  a  dozen  years,  had  known 
Dolokhof  and  Anatol,  and  had  furnished  them  with  teams. 
More  than  once,  when  Auatol's  regiment  had  been  at  Tver,  he 
had  started  at  nightfall  from  Tver,  set  him  down  in  Moscow 
before  daybreak,  and  brought  him  back  by  the  following 
morning.  More  than  once  he  had  taken  Dolokhof  out  of  the 
reach  of  pursuers.  More  than  once  he  had  taken  them  out  to 
drive  with  gypsies  and  damotchkiy  —  nice  little  dames, — as 
Balaga  called  fast  women.  More  than  once  at  their  instigation 
he  had  run  down  pedestrians  and  izvoshchiks  in  the  Moscow 
streets,  and  always  his  "  gentlemen,"  as  he  called  them,  had 
rescued  him  from  the  penalty.  More  than  one  horse  he  had 
broken  down  in  their  service.  More  than  once  he  had  been 
thrashed  by  them ;  many  times  had  they  given  him  champagne 
and  Madeira,  which  he  specially  affected,  and  lie  knew  of 
escapades  of  theirs  which  would  have  condemned  any  ordinary 
man  to  Siberia. 

During  their  orgies,  they  had  often  invited  Balaga  to  take 
part,  and  made  him  drink  and  dance  with  the  gypsies,  and 
more  than  one  thousand  rubles  of  theirs  had  passed  through 
his  hands. 

In  service  for  them,  he  had  twenty  times  a  year  risked  life 
and  limb,  and  in  accomplishing  their  deviltry  he  had  almost 
killetj  more  horses  than  their  money  would  ever  pay  for.  But 
lie  was  fond  of  them ;  he  was  fond  of  that  mad  pace  of  eighteen 
versts  an  hour^  he  was  fond  of  upsetting  some  harmless 


WAR  AND  PP. ACS.  871 

izvoshchik  from  his  box,  or  running  down  some  pedestrian  on 
the  street-crossings,  and  of  dashing  at  full  tilt  down  the  Mos- 
cow highways.  He  was  fond  of  hearing  behind  him  that  wild 
cry  of  drunken  voices,  "  Pashol !  pash6l ! "  when  it  was  already 
a  physical  impossibility  for  his  horses  to  carry  them  a  step 
farther ;  he  was  fond  of  winding  his  whiplash  around  a  peas- 
ant's neck,  who  shrunk  back  more  dead  than  alive  as  he  passed 
by.     "  Real  gentlemen  "  he  called  them ! 

Anatol  and  Dolokhof  also  were  fond  of  Balaga  because  of 
his  masterly  skill  in  handling  the  lines,  and  because  his  tastes 
were  similar  to  theirs.  With  others  he  drove  hard  bargains, 
charging  twenty-five  rubles  for  a  two  hours*  outing,  and  he 
rarely  condescended  to  drive  others  himself,  but  more  fre- 
quently sent  one  of  his  subordinates.  But  with  his  ''  gentle- 
men,'' as  he  called  them,  he  always  went  himself,  and  never 
charged  for  his  extra  labor.  Only  when  he  learned  through 
the  valets  that  money  was  plentiful,  he  would  come,  after  an 
interval  of  many  months,  and,  very  soberly  and  obsequiously, 
bowing  low,  asked  to  be  helped  out  of  his  difficulties. 

His  ''  gentlemen  "  always  made  him  take  a  seat. 

"You  will  excuse  me,  batyushka  Feodor  Ivanuitch,"  or 
"your  Illustriousness,"  he  would  say,  "I  am  entirely  out  of 
horses ;  I  pray  you  to  advance  me  enough  to  go  to  get  more  at 
the  Yarmanka."*  And  Anatol  and  Dolokhof,  if  they  happened 
to  be  flush  of  funds,  would  give  him  a  thousand  or  so  of  rubles. 
Balaga  was  twenty-seven  years  old,  a  stubbed,  red-haired,  snub- 
nosed  muzhik,  with  fiery  red  complexion,  and  still  more  fiery 
red  neck,  with  glittering  little  eyes,  and  a  scrubby  beard.  He 
wore  a  fine,  blue,  silk-lined  kaftan,  and  over  that  a  sheepskin 
.polushubka. 

He  crossed  himself,  turning  to  the  shrine  corner,  as  he  came 
in,  and  advanced  toward  Dolokhof,  holding  out  a  small,  black 
hand. 

"  Feodor  Ivanovitch,  your  good  health,"  he  exclaimed,  with 
a  low  bow. 

"  How  are  you,  brother !  —  There  he  is  I " 

"Good  health,  your  illustriousness,"  said  he,  addressing 
Anatol,  who  came  in  at  that  moment,  and  offered  him  also  his 
dirty  hand. 

"  I  ask  you,  Balaga,"  said  Anatol,  clapping  his  hand  on  his 
shoulder,  "  do  you  love  me,  or  not,  hey  ?  Now  there's  a  chance 
for  you  to  prove  it.    What  horses  have  you  come  with,  hey  ?  " 

"  Those  your  man  ordered,  your  own  wild  ones,"  said  Balaga. 

*  Yarmanka  lor  Yarmarka,  Jahrmarkt,  Annual  market. 


372  t^AR  AKD  PEACE. 

"  Now  see  lier6,  Balaga.  No  matter  if  you  slaughter  all  thre^ 
of  your  horses,  provided  you  get  us  there  within  three  hours. 
Hey  ?  " 

"  If  we  slaughter  them,  how  shall  we  get  there  ?  "  replied 
Balaga  with  a  wink. 

"  I'll  smash  your  snout  for  you !  A  truce  to  joking,"  cried 
Anatol  suddenly,  with  glaring  eyes. 

"  Who's  joking?  "  exclaimed  the  driver,  with  a  laugh.  "Do 
I  ever  grudge  anything  for  my  '  gentlemen  '  ?  Whatever  my 
horses  can  show  in  the  way  of  speed,  that  we  will  do." 

"  Ah !  "  grunted  Anatol.     "  Sit  down,  then." 

"  Yes,  why  not  sit  down  ?  "  said  Dolokhof . 

"  I  will  stand,  Feodor  Ivanovitch." 

"Sit  down,  no  nonsense.  Have  a  drink,"  said  Anatol, 
and  poured  him  out  a  great  glass  of  Madeira.  The  driver's 
eyes  flashed  at  the  sight  of  the  wine.  Kefusing  at  first,  for 
manners'  sake,  he  drank  it  down,  and  wiped  his  mouth  with  a 
red  silk  handkerchief  which  he  kept  in  the  top  of  his  cap. 

"  Well,  when  shall  we  start,  your  illustriousness  ?  " 

"  Let  me  see,"  Anatol  glanced  at  his  watch ;  "  start  pretty 
soon  now.  See  here,  Balaga,  hey!  You  will  get  there  on 
time  ?  " 

"  Well,  it  depends  on  the  start.  If  we  get  off  luckily,  then 
we'll  be  there  in  good  time.  I  got  you  to  Tver  once,  —  went 
there  in  seven  hours.  Don't  you  remember,  your  illustrious- 
ness ?  " 

"  Do  you  know,  one  Christmas  we  started  from  Tver,'*  said 
Anatol,  smiling  at  the  remembrance,  and  turning  to  Makarin, 
who  was  gazing  affectionately  at  Kuragin  with  all  his  eyes, 
"You  wouldn't  believe  it,  Makarka,  we  flew  so  that  it  quite 
took  away  my  breath.  We  came  upon  one  file  of  carts,  and 
jumped  right  over  two  of  them.     Hey  ?  "  , 

"  What  horses  those  were ! "  interposed  Balaga,  taking  up 
the  thread  of  the  story.  "  At  that  time  I  put  in  two  young 
side  horses  with  the  bay  shaft  horse,"  he  said,  turning  to  Dol- 
okhof. "You  would  hardly  believe  it,  Feodor  Ivanuitch, 
those  wild  creatures  actually  flew  for  sixty  versts.  It  was  im- 
possible to  hold  them.  My  hands  were  numb,  it  was  so  cold. 
I  threw  down  the  lines.  *  Look  out  for  yourself,  your  illustri- 
ousness,' said  I,  and  I  rolled  over  backward  into  the  sledge. 
It  was  hopeless  to  control  'em,  or  even  to  stick  to  my  seat.  The 
devils  got  us  there  in  three  hours.  Only  the  left  off  one  was 
winded." 


w 


WAR  AND  PEACe.  873 


CHAPTER  XVIL 

Anatol  left  the  room,  and  at  the  end  of  a  few  minutes  came 
back  in  a  sable  shubka,  girdled  with  a  silver-buckled  leather 
belt,  and  wearing  a  sable  cap,  jauntily  set  on  one  side,  and  very 
becoming  to  his  handsome  face.  Glancing  into  the  mirror,  and 
then  taking  the  same  posture  before  Dolokhof  which  the  mir- 
ror had  told  him  was  most  effective,  he  seized  a  glass  of  wine. 

"  Well,  Fedya,  good-by  — prashchdi.  Thank  you  for  every- 
thing, prashchdi,^^  said  Anatol.  "  Well,  comrades,  friends  "  — 
he  pondered  a  moment  —  "  friends  —  of  my — youth,  prashckd- 
i'^e,"  he  said,  turning  to  Makarin  and  the  others. 

Although  they  were  all  going  with  him,  Anatol  evidently 
wanted  to  do  something  affecting  and  solemn  on  the  occasion 
of  this  farewell.  He  spoke  in  a  low,  slow,  deep  voice,  and, 
throwing  out  his  chest,  he  swayed  a  little  as  he  rested  his 
weight  on  one  leg.  "  AH  of  you  take  your  glasses,  you  too, 
Balaga.  Well,  comrades,  —  friends  of  my  youth,  —  we  have 
had  jolly  good  times  together,  we  have  enjoyed  life,  we  have 
been  on  many  sprees,  hey  ?  Now,  when  shall  we  meet  again  ? 
I  am  going  abroad,  farewell,  — prashchdi,  my  boys.  To  your 
health !  Hurrah ! "  he  cried,  draining  his  glass  and  smashing 
it  on  the  ground. 

"  To  your  good  health ! "  exclamed  Balaga,  also  draining  his 
glass  and  wiping  it  with  his  handkerchief.  Makarin,  with 
tears  in  his  eyes,  embraced  Anatol. 

*'  Ekh !  prince,  how  sad  that  we  should  have  to  part ! "  he 
exclaimed. 

"  Come,  let  us  be  off,"  cried  Anatol. 

Balaga  was  on  the, point  of  leaving  the  room. 

"  Hold  on  there,  wait,"  said  Anatol.  "  Shut  the  door.  We 
must  sit  down  first,  — there,  that's  the  way." 

They  closed  the  door  and  sat  down,  for  the  sake  of  the 
superstition. 

"  Well,  now  be  off  with  you,  boys,"  said  Anatol,  getting  up. 

AnatoPs  valet,  Joseph,  gave  him  his  purse  and  sabre,  and  all 
flocked  into  the  anteroom. 

"  But  where  is  the  shuba  ?  "  demanded  Dolokhof.  "  Hey, 
Ignatka,  go  to  Matriona  Matveyevna,  and  ask  her  for  the  shuba 
—  the  sable  cloak.  I  know  how  girls  go  off  on  such  occasions," 
explained  Dolokhof,  with  a  wink.  "  She  will  come  running 
out  more  dead  than  alive,  dressed  for  staying  in  the  house,  and 


374  ^^^  A^I>  PEA  en. 

if  you  delay  a  moment  too  long  there  will  be  tears,  and  '0 
papasha ! '  and  '  O  mamasha ! '  and  she'll  be  cold,  and  back 
she'll  go.  So  be  sure  you  take  this-shuba  with  you,  and  have 
it  all  ready  in  the  sledge." 

The  valet  brought  a  woman's  cloak,  lined  with  fox. 

"  You  fool !  I  told  you  to  get  the  sable.  Hey,  Matrioshka, 
bring  the  sable,"  he  shouted,  his  voice  ringing  down  through 
the  rooms. 

A  handsome  gypsv  girl,  though  thin  and  pale,  with  brilliant 
black  eyes  and  curly,  purplish  black  hair,  with  a  red  shawl 
over  her  shoulders,  came  hurrying  out  with  the  sable  cloak 
over  her  arm. 

"  Why,  I  don't  care ;  take  it,"  said  she,  evidently  afraid  of 
her  master,  and  yet  regretting  the  cloak. 

Dolokhof,  without  heeding  her,  took  the  fox-skin  shuba, 
threw  it  over  Matriosha,  and  wrapped  it  round  her. 

"  So,"  said  Dolokhof ;  "  and  so,"  he  repeated,  as  he  pulled 
the  collar  up  above  her  head,  leaving  only  a  small  opening  for 
her  face. 

"  That's  the  way,  do  you  see  ?  "  and  he  moved  Anatol's  head 
towards  the  opening  left  by  the  collar,  where  Matriosha's  bril- 
liant smile  could  alone  be  seen. 

"  Well,  good-by,  Matriosha,  prashchdi,^^  said  Anatol,  kissing 
her.  "  Ekh !  my  follies  here  are  ended.  Give  my  regards  to 
Stioshka.    Well, /jrcwAcAaV,  Matrioshka.    Wish  me  good  luck." 

"  Well,  then,  prince,  God  grant  you  the  best  of  luck,"  said 
Matriosha,  in  her  gypsy  accent 

At  the  doorstep  two  troikas  were  waiting,  with  two  jaunty 
yamschchiks  in  attendance.  Balaga  was  on  the  box  of  the  first 
sledge  and,  with  his  elbows  held  high,  was  deliberately  sorting 
the  reins.  Anatol  and  Dolokhof  got  in  behind  him ;  Makarin, 
Khvostikof ,  and  the  valet  took  their  places  in  the  other  troika. 

"  All  ready  ?  "  inquired  Balaga.  "  Let  her  go,"  he  cried, 
twisting  the  reins  round  his  wrists,  and  the  three  horses  flew 
like  the  wind  down  the  Nikitsky  Boulevard. 

The  groom  leaped  down  to  hold  the  horses'  heads  by  the 
curb,  while  Anatol  and  Dolokhof  strode  along  the  pavement. 
Coming  to  the  gate,  Dolokhof  gave  a  low  whistle.  The  whis- 
tle was  returned,  and  immediately  after  a  chambermaid  came 
running  out. 

'<  Come  into  the  court,  else  you  will  be  seen ;  she'll  be  down 
presently,"  said  she. 

Dolokhof  remained  by  the  gate.  Anatol  followed  the 
chambermaid  into  the  dvor,  turned  the  corner,  and  ran  up  the 
steps. 


WAR  AXD  PEACS.  STo 

Suddenlj  Garrilo,  Maiya  DmitrieTna's  colossal  footman, 
met  AnatoL 

"  Be  good  enough  to  go  to  my  mistress,**  said  tlie  footman, 
in  a  deep,  bass  Toice,  as  he  blocked  all  retreat  from  the  door. 

'^  Who^s  yoar  mistress  ?  Who  are  you  ?  **  demanded  Ana- 
tol,  in  a  br^uhless  whisper. 

"  If  you  please,  I  was  ordered  to  show  you ''  — 

'^Euragin!  back!*'  cried  Dolokhol  ^'You  are  betrayed! 
back!" 

Dolokhofy  who  had  been  left  at  the  outside  gate,  was  en- 
gaged in  a  tussle  with  the  dvomik,  who  was  trying  to  shut  it, 
and  prevent  Anatol  from  returning  through  it.  Dolokhof, 
with  a  final  output  of  force,  overturned  the  dvomik,  seized 
Anatol  by  the  arm,  pulled  him  through  the  gate,  and  ran 
together  with  him  back  to  their  troika. 


CHAPTER  XVm 

Mabta  Dmitbictka,  finding  the  weeping  Sonya  in  the 
corridor,  had  obliged  her  to  confess  the  whole.  Having  got 
possession  of  Natasha's  letter,  and  read  it,  Maiya  Dmitrievna 
took  it  and  confronted  Natasha  with  it. 

"  Wretched  girl !  Shameless  hussy  ! "  said  she  to  her. 
'^  I  will  not  listen  to  a  single  word  ! " 

Pushing  away  Natasha,  who  looked  at  her  with  wondering 
but  tearless  eyes,  she  shut  her  in  under  lock  and  key ;  then 
she  had  ordered  the  dvomik  to  admit  into  the  courtyard  any 
who  might  come  that  evening,  but  not  to  let  them  out 
again,  and  she  had  ordered  the  footman  to  show  such  persons 
into  her  presence.  Having  made  these  arrangements,  she 
took  up  her  position  in  the  drawing-room  and  waited  for 
developments. 

When  (javrilo  came  to  inform  Marya  Dmitrievna  that  the 
abductors  had  escaped,  she  was  very  indignant ;  she  got  up, 
and  for  a  long  time  paced  up  and  down  the  room,  with  her 
hands  clasped  behind  her  back,  delil)erating  on  what  she 
ought  to  do.  At  midnight,  she  got  the  key  out  from  her 
pocket,  and  went  to  Natasha's  room. 

Sonya  was  still  sitting  in  the  corridor  sobbing.  ''Marya 
Dmitrievna,  let  me  go  to  her  for  (rod's  sake,"  said  she. 

Marya  Dmitrievna,  giving  her  no  reply,  0|>ened  the  door, 
and  went  in.     ''  Disgusting  !  abominable  !  —  In  my  house  !  — 


S76  tr^A  AlfD  PEACE. 

Indecent,  shameless  hussy !  —  Only  I'm  sorry  for  her  father,** 
said  Marya  Dmitrievna,  trying  to  master  her  indignation. 
"  Hard  as  it  will  be,  I  will  bid  them  all  hold  their  tongues, 
and  I'll  keep  it  from  the  count." 

Marya  Dmitrievna  entered  the  chamber  with  a  firm  step. 
Natasha  was  lying  on  the  sofa,  with  her  face  hid  in  her  hands ; 
she  did  not  stir,  but  lay  in  the  same  position  in  which  Maiya 
Dmitrievna  had  left  her. 

"  Pretty  conduct ;  pretty  conduct,  indeed ! "  exclaimed 
Marya  Dmitrievna.  "  To  make  assignations  with  your  lovers 
in  my  house !  None  of  your  hypocrisy !  Listen  when  I  speak 
to  you ! " 

Marya  Dmitrievna  shook  her  by  tht  arm.  "  Listen,  when  I 
speak  to  you  !  You  have  disgraced  yourself,  like  any  common 
wench !  I'd  settle  this  with  you,  but  I  have  some  pity  for 
your  father.     I  shall  keep  it  from  him." 

Natasha  did  not  change  her  position,  but  her  whole  body 
began  to  shake  with  the  noiseless  convulsive  sobs  that  choked 
her.  Marya  Dmitrievna  glanced  at  Sonya,  and  sat  down  on 
the  sofa  near  Natasha. 

"Lucky  for  him  he  escaped  me;  but  111  find  him,"  said 
she,  in  her  harsh  voice.  "  Do  you  hear  what  I  am  saying  ?  '* 
She  put  her  big  hand  under  Natasha's  face,  and  turned  it 
toward  her.  Both  Marya  Dmitrievna  and  Sonya  were  amazed 
when  they  saw  her  face.  Her  eyes  were  dry  and  glittering ; 
her  lips  compressed,  her  cheeks  hollow. 

"  Let  —  me  —  be  !  —  What  —  do  —  I  —  care  ?  —  I  —  shall 
die ! "  she  murmured,  turning  away  from  Marya  Dmitrievna 
with  angry  petulance,  and  hiding  her  face  in  her  hands  again. 

"Natalya!"  exclaimed  Marya  Dmitrievna,  "I  wish  you 
well.  Lie  there — lie  there  if  you  wish  ;  I  won't  touch  you; 
but  listen  to  me  I  —  I  am  not  going  to  show  you  how  blame- 
worthy you  have  been.  You  know.  But,  don't  you  see,  your 
father  will  be  back  to-morrow :  what  shall  I  say  to  him  ?  " 

Again  Natasha's  form  was  shaken  by  sobs. 

"  He  will  hear  of  it ;  and  so  will  your  brother,  and  so  will 
your  betrothed ! " 

"  I  have  no  betrothed ;  I  have  refused  him ! "  cried  Natasha. 

"That's  immaterial,"  pursued  Marya  Dmitrievna.  "Well, 
they  will  learn  of  it ;  do  you  think  they  will  forgive  it  ? 
There's  your  father,  I  know  him,  if  he  should  challenge  him, 
would  it  be  a  good  thing  ?     Ha  ?  " 

"  Akh  !  leave  me  !  why  should  you  have  interfered  at  all  ? 
Why  ?     Why  ?     Who  asked  you  to  ?  "  screamed  Natasha^ 


War  and  pteAce.  877 

Bitting  tip  straight  on  the  sofa,  and  glaring  angrily  at  Marya 
Dmitrievna. 

"  But  what  idea  had  you  ?  "  demanded  Marya  Dmitrievna, 
again  losing  her  patience.  "  Were  you  kept  locked  up  ?  Who 
on  earth  prevented  him  from  coming  to  the  house  ?  Why 
must  he  needs  carry  you  off  like  a  gypsy  wench? — Well, 
now,  suppose  he  had  carried  you  off,  do  you  suppose  we 
shouldn't  have  found  him?  Either  your  father,  or  your 
brother,  or  your  betrothed  ?  Well,  he's  a  scoundrel !  a  knave ! 
that's  what  he  is  ! " 

"  He's  better  than  all  of  you  put  together,"  cried  Natasha, 
sitting  up  very  straight.  "  If  you  had  not  meddled  !  —  Akh ! 
my  God,  has  it  come  to  this,  has  it  come  to  this  ?  Sony  a, 
what  made  you  ?  —  Go  away  ! "  And  she  burst  into  a  pas- 
sion of  tears,  sobbing  with  the  desperation  such  as  only  those 
feel  who  know  that  they  are  responsible  for  their  own  woes. 

Marya  Dmitrievna  began  to  speak  once  more,  but  Natasha 
cried :  "  Go  away,  go  away  !  you  all  hate  me  !  you  all  despise 
me  ! "    And  she  threw  herself  on  the  sofa  again. 

Marya  Dmitrievna  continued  for  some  time  to  give  her 
advice,  and  assure  her  that  this  whole  affair  ought  to  be  kept 
a  secret  from  the  count ;  that  no  one  would  know  anything 
about  it,  if  only  Natasha  would  try  to  let  it  all  go,  and  not 
betray  in  any  one's  presence  that  anything  had  happened. 

Natasha  made  no  reply.  She  ceased  to  sob,  but  a  fit  of 
shivering  and  trembling  came  upon  her.  Marya  Dmitrievna 
put  a  pillow  under  her  head,  covered  her  up  with  a  couple  of 
comforters,  and  herself  brought  her  some  linden  flower,  but 
Natasha  had  nothing  to  say  to  her.  "  Now,  let  her  go  to  sleep," 
said  Marya  Dmitrievna,  and  left  the  room,  thinking  that  she 
would  soon  sleep.  But  Natasha  did  not  go  to  sleep,  and  with 
wide,  staring  eyes  gazed  into  vacancy.  She  slept  none  that 
night,  and  she  did  not  weep,  and  she  did  not  speak  to  Sony  a, 
who  several  times  got  up  and  went  to  her. 

On  the  following  day  Count  Ilya  Andreyitch  returned  from 
his  podmoskovnaya  in  time  for  breakfast,  as  he  had  promised. 
lie  was  in  a  most  genial  fmme  of  mind.  He  had  come  to  a 
satisfactory  arrangement  with  his  purchaser,  and  now  there 
was  nothing  to  detjiin  him  in  Moscow,  and  away  from  his 
countess,  whom  he  was  very  anxious  to  see. 

Marya  Dmitrievna  met  him,  and  informed  him  that  Natasha 
had  been  ill  the  day  before,  that  they  had  sent  for  the  doctor, 
and  now  she  was  better. 

Natasha  that  morning  did  not  leave  her  room.    With  set, 


378  VITAn  AND  PEA  OS. 

cracked  lips,  with  wide,  dry  eyes,  she  kept  her  place  bj  the 
window,  and  anxiously  gazed  at  the  passers-by  in  the  street, 
and  tutned  anxiously  towards  those  who  entered  her  room. 
She  was  evidently  expecting  news  from  him,  —  expecting  that 
either  he  would  himself  come,  or  send  her  a  letter.    - 

When  the  count  went  to  her  she  heard  the  sound  of  his 
heavy  steps,  and  tunied  round  nervously,  and  then  her  face 
assumed  its  former  expression  of  hauteur,  and  even  anger.  She 
did  not  get  up  to  meet  him. 

"  What  is  the  matter  with  thee,  my  angel  ?  Are  you  ill  ?  '* 
asked  the  count. 

Natasha  hesitated.     "  Yes,  I  am  ill,"  said  she. 

In  reply  to  the  count's  anxious  questions  why  she  was  so 
cast  down,  and  whether  anything  had  happened  to  her  lover, 
she  assured  him  that  nothing  had  happened,  and  begged  him 
not  to  be  disturbed. 

Marya  Dmitrievna  confirmed  Natasha's  statement  that  noth- 
ing had  happened,  but  the  count,  judging  from  the  imaginary 
illness,  and  by  his  daughter's  absent-mindedness,  by  the 
troubled  faces  of  Sony  a  and  Marya  Dmitrievna,  saw  clearly 
that  during  his  absence  something  must  have  happened.  It 
was  so  terrible,  however,  for  him  to  think  that  anything  dis- 
graceful had  happened  to  his  beloved  daugliter,  he  was  so  happy 
in  his  buoyant  good  spirits,  that  he  avoided  asking  any  pointed 
questions,  and  tried  hard  to  assure  himself  that  nothing  out  of 
the  way  could  have  happened,  and  his  only  regret  was  that,  on. 
account  of  Natasha's  indisposition,  he  was  obliged  to  postpone 
their  return  to  his  country-seat. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

PiERBE,  on  the  day  of  his  wife's  arrival  at  Moscow,  had  made 
up  his  mind  to  take  a  journey  somewhere,  so  as  to  avoid  being 
with  her.  Then,  when  the  Bostofs  came  to  Moscow  the  im- 
pression produced  upon  him  by  Natasha  made  him  hasten  to 
cjirry  out  his  intention.  He  went  to  Tver  to  see  losiph  Alek- 
seyevitch's  widow,  who  had  some  time  since  promised  to  put 
into  his  hands  her  husband's  papers. 

On  Pierre's  return  to  Moscow  a  letter  was  handed  him  from 
Marya  Dmitrievna,  who  urged  him  to  come  and  consult  with 
her  on  some  highly  important  business  concerning  Andrei 
Bolkonsky  and  his  betrothed. 

Pierre  had  avoided  Natasha.     It  seemed  to  him  that  he  felt 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  879 

for  her  a  sentiment  stronger  than  it  was  justifiable  for  a  mar- 
ried man  to  harbor  for  his  friend's  mistress,  and  some  perverse 
fate  was  constantly  throwing  them  together. 

"  What  can  have  happened  ?  and  what  can  it  have  to  do  with 
me  ?  "  he  wondered,  while  dressing  to  go  to  Marya  Dmitrievna's. 
"  It's  high  time  for  Prince  Andrei  to  be  back  and  marry  her," 
thoaght  Pierre,  as  he  set  out  for  Mrs.  Akhrasimova's. 

On  the  Tversky  Boulevard  some  one  hailed  him. 

"  Pierre,  been  back  long  ?  "  cried  a  well-known  voice. 

Pierre  raised  his  head.  It  was  Anatol  and  his  inseparable 
companion,  Makarin,  dashing  by  in  a  double  sledge,  drawn  by 
two  gray  trotters,  that  sent  the  snow  flinging  over  the  dasher. 
Anatol  sat  bolt  upright,  in  the  classic  pose  of  dashing  warriors, 
with  his  neck  mufiled  in  a  beaver  collar,  and  bending  his  head 
a  little.  His  face  was  fresh  and  ruddy :  his  hat,  with  a  white 
plume,  was  set  jauntily  on  one  side,  exposing  his  curled  and 
pomaded  hair,  dusted  with  line  snow. 

"  Indeed,  he's  a  real  philosopher ! "  thought  Pierre.  "  He  sees 
nothing  beyond  the  enjoyment  of  the  actual  moment ;  nothing 
annoys  him,  and  consequently  he  is  always  jolly,  self-satisfied, 
and  calm.  What  would  I  not  give  to  be  like  him  ! "  thought 
Pierre,  with  a  feeling  of  envy. 

In  the  anteroom  of  the  Akhrasimova's,  a  footman,  who  re- 
lieved Pierre  of  his  shuba,  told  him  that  Marya  Dmitrievna 
would  receive  him  in  her  own  room.  As  he  passed  through 
the  music-room  Pierre  caught  sight  of  Natasha  sitting  by  the 
window,  with  a  strange  expression  of  disdain  on  her  pale,  thin 
face.  She  gave  him  a  glance,  and  frowned,  and,  with  an  ex- 
pression of  chilling  dignity,  left  the  room. 

"  What  has  happened  ?  "  asked  Pierre,  on  entering  Marya 
Dmitrievna's  room. 

"  Pretty  state  of  affairs ! "  replied  Marya  Dmitrievna.  "  Fifty- 
eight  years  have  I  lived  in  this  world,  and  I  never  saw  any- 
thing so  shameful."  And  then,  receiving  Pierre's  word  of 
honor  that  he  would  keep  secret  what  he  should  hear,  Marya 
Dmitrievna  confided  to  him  that  Natasha  had  broken  her  en- 
gagement with  Prince  Andrei  without  the  knowledge  of  ier 
parents ;  that  the  cause  of  this  break  was  Anatol  Kuragin,  whom 
Pierre's  wife  had  introduced  to  her,  and  with  whom  she  had 
promised  to  elope  during  her  father's  absence,  in  order  to  enter 
into  a  clandestine  marriage. 

Pierre,  with  shoulders  raised  and  mouth  open,  listened  to 
Marya  Djnitrievna's  story,  not  believing  his  own  ears.  That 
Prince  Andrei's  betrothed^  that  hitherto  lovely  Natasha  Bos- 


380  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

I 

tova,  so  passionately  beloved,  should  give  up  Bolkonsky  for 
that  fool  of  an  Anatol,  who  was  a  married  man,  —  for  Pierre 
was  in  the  secret  of  his  marriage,  —  and  be  so  enamoured  of  him 
as  to  consent  to  elope  with  him,  Pierre  could  not  comprehend 
and  could  not  imagine. 

Natasha's  sweetness  of  character  —  he  had  known  her  since 
childhood  —  could  not,  in  his  mind,  be  associated  with  this  new 
suggestion  of  baseness,  folly^  and  cruelty  in  her.    He  remem- 
^  bered  his  own  wife.     "  They  are  all  alike,"  said  he  to  himself, 

thinking  that  he  was  not  the  only  one  who  had  the  misfortune 
to  be  in  the  toils  of  an  unworthy  woman ;  and  at  the  same  time 
he  could  have  wept  for  his  friend.  Prince  Andrei,  to  whose 
pride  it  would  be  such  a  grievous  blow.  And  the  more  he 
grieved  for  his  friend,  the  greater  scorn,  and  even  aversion,  he 
felt  for  this  Natasha,  who  had  just  passed  by  him  with  such 
an  expression  of  haughty  dignity  in  the  music-room.  He  could 
r  not  know  that  Natasha's  soul  was  full  to  overflowing  of  de- 

spair, shame,  humiliation ;  and  that  she  was  not  to  blame  for 
her  face  expressing,  from  very  despair,  that  cold  dignity  and 
disdain. 

"  But  how  could  he  marry  her  ? "  exclaimed  Pierre,  catch- 
ing at  Mary  a  Dmitrievna's  last  word.  "  He  could  not  marry 
her :  he  already  has  a  wife." 

"  Woree  and  worse ! "  exclaimed  Marya  Dmitrie vna.  "  Fine 
young  man !  What  a  dastard  he  is !  And  she  has  been  wait- 
ing here  these  two  days  for  him  to  come !  At  any  rate,  she 
must  cease  expecting  him ;  we  must  tell  her." 

When  she  learned  from  Pierre  all  the  details  of  Anatol's 
~  marriage,  and  had  poured  out  the  vials  of  her  wrath  against 
him  in  abusive  words,  Marya  Dmitrievna  explained  to  Pierre 
why  she  had  asked  him  to  call  upon  her.  She  was  afraid  that 
the  count  or  Bolkonsky  —  who  was  liable  to  return  at  any 
moment  —  might  learn  of  the  affair,  in  spite  of  all  her  efforts 
to  keep  it  a  profound  secret,  and  might  challenge  Kuragin  to 
a  duel ;  and,  therefore,  she  besought  him  to  add  his  influence 
to  hers  in  getting  him  to  leave  town  and  never  show  himself 
in  her  presence  again. 

Pierre  willingly  agreed  to  fulfil  her  wishes,  since  now  he  for 
the  first  time  realized  the  danger  threatening  the  old  count 
and  Nikolai  and  Prince  Andrei. 

Having  preferred  her  request  in  short  and  precise  terms, 
she  took  him  back  into  the  drawing-room :  — 

"  Mind  you  !  the  count  knows  nothing  of  this.  You  must 
pretend  that  you  also  know  nothing  about  it,"  said  she,     "  And 


WAR  AND  PEACE,  881 

I  am  going  this  instant  to  tell  her  that  she  is  to  cease  expect- 
ing him.  And  stay  to  dinner  if  you  will,"  shouted  back 
Marya  Dmitrievna  to  Pierre. 

Pierre  met  the  old  count.  He  was  disturbed  and  an- 
noyed. That  morning  Katasha  had  told  him  that  she  had 
broken  her  engagement  with  Bolkonsky. 

"  Too  bad,  too  bad,  Ttum  cher^^  said  he  to  Pierre.  "  Too  bad 
for  these  girls  to  be  away  from  their  mother :  how  sorry  I  am 
that  I  ever  came  at  all.  I  am  going  to  be  frank  with  you,  she 
has  already  broken  her  engagement,  without  telling  any  one 
of  us  about  it.  Now  I  will  admit  I  have  never  been  over 
pleased  at  this  engagement ;  I  will  agree  he's  a  fine  man,  and 
all  that ;  but  what  would  you  have  ?  there  would  not  be  much 
happiness  if  the  father  was  opposed ;  and  Natasha  would  not 
lack  chances  of  getting  married.  Still,  the  affair  has  gone  on 
so  long,  and  to  have  such  a  step  taken  without  consulting 
father  or  mother !  And  now  she's  sick,  and  God  knows 
what's  the  matter.  It's  a  bad  thing,  count,  a  bad  thing,  for 
daughters  to  be  without  their  mother ! " 

Pierre  perceived  that  the  count  was  very  much  disconcerted, 
and  he  tried  to  bring  the  conversation  round  to  other  topics  ; 
but  the  count  kept  returning  to  his  grievance. 

Sonya,  with  anxious  face,  came  into  the  drawing-room. 

"  Natasha  is  not  very  well  to-day  ;  she  is  in  her  room ;  but 
she  would  like  to  see  you.  Marya  Dmitrievna  is  with  her,  and 
would  also  like  you  to  come." 

"  Yes,  certainly,  you  and  Bolkonsky  were  good  friends ;  she 
probably  wants  to  send  some  message,"  said  the  count.  "  Akh ! 
my  God  !  my  God  !  How  good  it  all  was  ! "  And  tearing  at 
his  thin  loc^,  the  count  left  the  room. 

Marya  Dmitrievna  had  been  explaining  to  Natasha  how  Ana- 
tol  was  maiTied.  Natasha  refused  to  believe  her,  and  demanded 
to  have  confirmation  of  it  from  Pierre  himself.  Sonya  con- 
fided this  to  Pierre,  as  they  passed  along  the  corridor  toward 
Natasha's  room. 

Natasha,  pale  and  stern,  was  sitting  next  Marya  Dmitrievna. 
The  moment  Pierre  entered  the  doorway,  she  met  him  with 
feverishly  glittering,  wildly  imploring  eyes.  She  did  not  smile, 
she  did  not  even  greet  him  with  a  nod,  she  only  looked  at 
him  eagerly,  and  her  eyes  merely  demanded  if  he  came  as  her 
friend,  or,  like  all  the  rest,  as  her  enemy,  in  reference  to  Ana- 
tol.  Pierre,  in  his  own  personality  as  Pierre,  did  not  exist  for 
her. 

''  He  knows  all  about  it/'  said  Marya  Dmitrievna,  indicating 


382  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

Pierre,  and  addressing  Natasha.  *^  Let  him  tell  you  if  I  am 
not  speaking  the  truth." 

Natasha,  as  a  Abounded  animal  at  bay  glares  at  the  dogs  and 
huntsmen  approaching,  looked  first  at  the  one  and  then  at  the 
other. 

"  Natalya  Ilyinitchna,"  Pierre  began,  dropping  his  eyes,  and 
experiencing  a  feeling  of  compunction  for  her,  -and  of  aversion 
to  the  operation  which  he  was  obliged  to  perform,  '^  it  is  true ; 
but  whether  this  is  true  or  not  true,  as  far  as  you  are  concerned, 
it  cannot  matter,  because  "  — 

"  Then  it  is  not  true  that  he  is  married  ?  " 

"  Nay,  it  is  true." 

"  Has  he  been  married  for  some  time  ?  "  she  asked.  "  On 
your  word  of  honor !  " 

Pierre  gave  her  his  solemn  word  of  honor. 

"  Is  he  still  in  town  ?  "  she  asked  hurriedly. 

"  Yes  :  I  have  just  seen  him." 

The  effort  to  say  more  was  evidently  too  much  for  her,  and 
she  made  them  a  sign  with  her  hand  to  leave  her  alone. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

Pierre  did  not  remain  for  dinner,  but  immediately  took 
his  leave.  He  went  out  for  the  purpose  of  finding  Anatol 
Kuragin,  the  mere  thotight  of  whom  now  made  all  the  blood 
rush  to  his  heart,  and  almost  choked  him.  He  sought  him 
ever}^ where:  at  the  ice  hills,  among  the  gypsies,  at  Gomo- 
neno's ;  but  he  was  nowhere  to  be  found. 

Pierre  went  to  the  club.  There  everything  was  going  in  its 
usual  train :  the  members,  who  were  assembling  for  dinner, 
formed  little  groups,  and,  greeting  Pierre,  spoke  of  various 
items  of  city  gossip.  A  servant,  who  knew  his  habits  and  his 
particular  friends,  accosted  him  politely,  and  informed  hira 
that  a  place  was  ready  for  him  at  the  little  table,  that  Prince 
N.  N.  was  in  the  library,  but  that  T.  T.  had  not  yet  come. 

One  of  Pierre's  acquaintances,  during  some  talk  of  the 
weather,  asked  him  if  he  had  heard  of  Kuragin's  elopement 
with  Eostova,  about  which  the  whole  city  were  talking,  and  if 
it  were  true. 

Pierre,  w4th  a  laugh,  said  that  it  was  all  nonsense,  because  he 
had  just  come  from  the  Rostofs.  He  inquired  of  every  one  if 
they  had  seen  Anatol;  one  said  that  he  had  not  yet  come; 
another  that  he  would  be  there  to  dinner.     It  was  strange 


WAR  AND  PEACE,  888 

for  Pierre  to  look  at  this  tranquil,  indifferent  throng  of  men, 
who  had  not  the  slightest  inkling  of  what  was  passing  in  his 
mind.  He  then  sauntered  through  the  hall  till  all  had  gone 
in  to  dinner ;  and  then,  giving  up  expecting  Anatol,  he  did 
not  wait  for  dinner,  but  went  home. 

Anatol,  whom  he  was  so  anxious  to  find,  dined  that  day 
with  Dolokhof ;  and  was  discussing  with  him  some  plan  of 
still  carrying  out  their  ill-fated  enterprise.  It  seemed  to  him 
absolutely  necessary  to  have  an  interview  with  Natasha.  In 
the  evening,  he  went  to  his  sister's,  in  order  to  arrange  with 
her  some  means  of  procuring  this  interview. 

When  Pierre,  who  had  vainly  ransacked  all  Moscow,  returned 
home,  the  footman  informed  him  that  Prince  Anatol  Vasil- 
yitch  was  with  the  countess.  The  countess's  drawing-room  was 
crowded  with  company. 

Pierre,  not  even  greeting  his  wife,  whom  he  had  not  seen 
since  his  return  (never  had  she  seemed  to  him  more  utterly 
detestable  than  at  that  moment),  went  into  the  drawing-room, 
and  catching  sight  of  Anatol,  went  straight  up  to  him. 

"  Ah,  Pierre ! "  cried  the  countess,  approaching  her  husband. 
"You  don't  know  in  what  a  position  our  Anatol"  —  She 
paused,  when  she  saw  in  the  forward  thrust  of  her  husband's 
nead,  in  his  flashing  eyes,  and  his  resolute  gait,  the  same  strange, 
terrible  expression  of  frenzy  and  might  which  she  had  known 
and  experienced  after  his  duel  with  Dolokhof. 

"  Sin  and  lewdness  are  with  you  everywhere,"  said  Pierre 
to  his  wife.  "  Anatol,  come  with  me,  I  want  a  few  words 
with  you,"  he  said,  in  French. 

Anatol  glanced  at  his  sister,  and  boldly  rose,  ready  to  fol- 
low Pierre. 

Pierre  took  him  by  the  arm  and  hurried  him  out  of  the 
room. 

"  Si  vous  vous  permettez  dans  man  salotif"  exclaimed  Ellen, 
in  a  whisper;  but  Pierre  made  her  no  reply,  and  left  the 
room. 

Anatol  followed  him  with  his  usual  jaunty  gait,  but  there 
was  a  trace  of  anxiety  on  his  face. 

When  they  reached  Pierre's  cabinet,  he  shut  the  door,  and 
addressed  Anatol  without  looking  at  him.  "  You  promised  to 
marry  the  Countess  Rostova,  and  planned  to  elope  with  her  ?  " 

"  My  dear,"  replied  Anatol,  in  French,  in  which  language 
indeed  the  whole  conversation  was  carried  on,  "T  consider 
myself  under  no  obligation  to  answer  questions  asked  in  such 
a  tone." 


384  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

Pierre's  face,  white  to  begin  with,  became  perfectly  dis- 
torted with  rage.  With  his  huge  hand  he  seized  Anatol  by 
the  collar  of  his  uniform  coat,  and  proceeded  to  shake  him 
from  side  to  side  until  the  young  man's  face  expressed  a 
sufficient  degree  of  terror.  "  When  I  tell  you  that  I  mtist 
have  an  answer  from  you  ?  " 

"  Now,  look  here,  this  is  stupid !  Ha  ?  "  exclaimed  Anatol, 
looking  for  the  button  that  had  been  torn  off  from  his  collar. 

"  You  are  a  scoundrel  and  a  blackguard,  and  I  don't  know 
what  restrains  me  from  the  satisfaction  of  smashing  your 
head  with  this,"  said  Pierre,  expressing  himself  with  easy 
fluency,  because  he  spoke  in  French.  He  had  taken  into  his 
hand  a  heavy  paper-weight,  and  he  held  it  up  menacingly,  and 
then  slowly  laid  it  back  in  its  place  again. 

"  Did  you  promise  to  marry  her  ?  " 

"I  —  I  —  I  don't  think  so ;  besides,  I  couldn't  have  prom- 
ised any  such  thing,  be  —  because  "  — 

Pierre  interrupted  him.  "  Have  you  any  of  her  letters  ?  '* 
he  demanded,  coming  close  to  him. 

Anatol  gave  him  one  look,  and  instantly  put  his  hand  into 
his  pocket,  and  took  out  a  pocket*book. 

Pierre  seized  the  letter  which  he  handed  to  him,  and,  vio- 
lently pushing  aside  a  chair  that  was  in  his  way,  he  went  to 
the  sofa,  and  flung  himself  upon  it. 

"  I  will  not  hurt  you ;  have  no  fear,"  said  he,  in  reply  to 
Anatol's  terrified  gesture.  "The  letters — one  thing,"  said 
Pierre,  as  though  repeating  a  lesson  for  his  own  edification. 
"  Secondly,"  he  continued,  after  a  moment's  silence,  getting  to 
his  feet  again,  and  beginning  to  pace  up  and  down  the  room, 
"  you  must  leave  Moscow  to-morrow." 

"  But  how  can  I "  — 

"Thirdly,"  pursued  Pierre,  not  heeding  him,  "you  must 
never  breathe  a  word  about  what  has  taken  place  between  you 
and  the  countess.  This,  I  know,  I  cannot  oblige  you  to  do, 
but  if  you  have  a  single  spark  of  conscience  "  — 

Pierre  walked  in  silence  several  times  from  one  end  of  the 
room  to  the  other.  Anatol  had  sat  down  by  the  table,  and 
was  scowling  and  chewing  his  lips. 

"  You  must  learn  some  time  that  above  and  beyond  your 
own  pleasure  the  happiness  and  peace  of  others  are  to  be  con- 
sidered ;  that  you  are  ruining  a  whole  life  for  the  sake  of  hav- 
ing a  little  amusement.  Trifle  with  women  like  my  wife  as 
much  as  you  please  —  with  such  you  have  fair  game ;  they 
know  what  you  want  of  them.     They  are  armed  against  you 


WAR  AND  PEACE,  385 

by  their  very  experience  in  lust ;  but  to  promise  a  young  girl 
to  marry  her  —  to  deceive  her  —  to  rob  her  —  why,  don't  you 
know  that  it  is  as  cowardly  as  to  strike  an  old  man  or  a 
child  ?  "  • 

Pierre  stopped  speaking,  and  looked  at  Anatol  inquiringly ; 
his  anger  had  vanished. 

"I  don't  know,  I'm  sure;  ha? "  said  Anatol,  gaining  confi- 
dence in  proportion  as  Pierre's  anger  subsided.  "I  know 
nothing  about  it,  and  I  don't  want  to  know,"  said  he,  not  look- 
ing at  Pierre,  while  at  the  same  time  his  lower  jaw  ti'embled 
slightly.  *'But  you  have  spoken  to  me  words  so  insulting 
that  I  as  a  man  of  honor  cannot  think  of  permitting  them."  - 

Pierre  looked  at  him  in  amazement,  perfectly  unable  to 
understand  what  was  wanted  of  him. 

"Though  we  have  had  no  witnesses,"  continued  Anatol, 
"  still  I  cannot "  — 

"  What !  you  wish  satisfaction  ?  "  asked  Pierre  scornfully. 

"At  least,  you  can  retract  what  you  said.  Ha?  That  is,  if 
you  expect  me  to  carry  out  your  wishes.    Ha  ?  " 

"  I  will !  I'll  take  it  back ! "  exclaimed  Pierre.  « And  I 
beg  you  to  forgive  me."  Pierre  could  not  help  looking  at  the 
torn  button.     "  And  money,  if  you  need  it  for  your  journey." 

Anatol  smiled. 

This  contemptible,  villanous  smile,  which  he  knew  so  well 
in  his  wife,  stirred  Pierre's  indignation.  "  Oh !  contemptible, 
heartless  race  I "  he  exclaimed,  and  left  the  room. 

The  next  day  Anatol  started  for  Petersburg. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

PiEBRB  went  to  Marya  Dmitrievna's  to  inform  her  how  he 
had  accomplished  her  wishes  in  regard  to  Anatol's  expulsion 
from  Moscow. 

He  found  the  whole  house  in  terror  and  commotion. 
Natasha  was  very  ill ;  and,  as  Marya  Ihnitrievna  informed 
him,  under  seal  of  secrecy,  the  night  after  she  had  learned 
that  Anatol  Kuragin  was  married,  she  had  poisoned  herself 
with  arsenic  that  she  had  managed  surreptitiously  to  procure. 
Having  swallowed  a  considerable  quantity,  she  awakened 
Sonya  and  confessed  what  she  had  done.  The  proper  anti- 
dotes to  the  poison  had  been  given  in  time,  and  she  was  now 
out  of  danger,  but  she  was  still  so  weak  that  it  was  out  of  the 
question  to  think  of  taking  her  to  the  country,  and  the 

VOL.  2. —26. 


386  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

countess  had  been  sent  for.  Pierre  saw  the  troubled  count 
and  the  weeping  Sonja,  but  he  was  not  allowed  to  see  Natasha. 

Pierre  had  that  day  dined  at  the  club,  and  had  heard  on  all 
sides  gossip  about  the  frustrated  elopement,  but  he  strenu- 
ously denied  these  rumors,  assuring  every  one  that  there  was 
nothing  in  it,  except  that  his  brother-in-law  had  offered  himself 
to  Kostova,  and  been  refused.  It  seemed  plain  to  Pierre  that 
it  was  his  bounden  duty  to  conceal  the  whole  affair,  and  save 
Natasha's  reputation. 

In  a  real  panic  he  waited  for  Prince  Andrei's  return,  and 
each  day  he  went  to  the  old  prince's  to  inquire  for  news  of 
him. 

Prince  Nikolai  Andreyitch  had  learned  through  Mademoi- 
selle Bourienne  of  all  this  gossip  flying  through  the  city,  and 
he  had  read  the  letter  to  the  Princess  Mariya,  in  which 
Natasha  broke  off  her  engagement  with  Prince  Andrei.  This 
letter  also  he  had  obtained  through  Mademoiselle  Bourienne, 
who  had  fetched  it  from  the  princess. 

He  seemed  in  better  spirits  than  usual,  and  awaited  his 
son's  return  with  the  greatest  impatience.  When  the  latter 
finally  reached  Moscow,  the  old  prince  first  thing  handed  him 
Natasha's  letter  to  his  sister,  announcing  her  discontinuance 
of  the  engagement,  and  told  him,  with  additions  of  his  own  in- 
vention, the  various  rumors  current  concerning  the  elopement. 

A  few  days  after  Anatol's  departure,  Pierre  received  a  note 
from  Prince  Andrei  announcing  his  arrival,  and  begging  Pierre 
to  come  to  see  him. 

Prince  Andrei's  arrival  had  been  in  the  evening.  Pierre 
went  to  see  him  the  following  morning.  He  expected  to  find 
him  in  almost  the  same  state  of  mind  as  Natasha  was,  and 
therefore  great  was  his  amazement  when,  on  being  shown  into 
the  drawing-room,  he  heard  Prince  Andrei,  in  the  adjoining 
cabinet,  telling  in  a  loud,  animated  manner  of  some  Petersburg 
intrigue.  He  was  occasionally  interrupted  by  the  old  prince, 
and  by  a  third  person  present. 

The  Princess  Mariya  came  in  to  greet  Pierre.  She  sighed 
as  she  turned  her  eyes  toward  the  door  of  the  room  whera  her 
brother  was,  evidently  anxious  to  give  expression  to  her  sym- 
pathy for  his  aifliction,  but  Pierre  detected  on  her  face  evidences 
of  her  inward  gratification  at  tlie  turn  affairs  had  taken,  and 
at  the  manner  in  which  her  brother  had  received  the  news  of 
Natasha's  fickleness. 

"  He  told  me  that  he  expected  this,"  said  she.  "  I  know  that 
his  pride  would  not  let  him  make  any  show  of  his  feelings,  bat 


WAJt  AND  PEACE,  387 

nevertheless  he  bears  up  under  it  better^  far  better,  than  I  had 
any  reason  to  expect.     Of  course,  since  it  had  to  be  so  "  — 

"  But  do  you  mean  to  say  it  is  all  over  between  them  ?  " 

The  Princess  Mariya  looked  at  him  in  amazement.  She 
could  not  understand  how  any  one  should  even  ask  such  a 
question. 

Pierre  went  into  the  cabinet.  Prince  Andrei,  much  altered, 
and  evidently  restored  to  perfect  health,  but  with  a  new  and 
perpendicular  wrinkle  between  his  brows,  was  standing,  in  civil 
dress,  in  front  of  his  father  and  Prince  Meshchersky,  and  was 
arguing  eagerly,  making  forceful  gestures. 

The  topic  was  Speransky,  news  of  whose  unexpected  banish- 
ment and  reported  treason  had  only  just  reached  Moscow. 
"Now,"  Prince  Andrei  was  saying,  "the  very  men  who  a 
month  ago  were  extolling  him,  and  who  are  wholly  incapable 
of  comprehending  his  aims,  are  criticising  him,  and  condemning 
him.  To  criticise  a  man  in  disfavor  is  very  easy,  and  so  it  is 
to  make  him  responsible  for  the  blunders  of  others ;  but  I  tell 
you,  if  any  one  has  done  any  good  during  this  present  reign  it 
has  been  done  by  him,  by  him  alone  "  — 

He  caught  sight  of  Pierre,  and  paused.  A  spasm  passed  over 
his  face,  and  immediately  his  expression  became  stern.  "  But 
posterity  will  do  him  justice,"  said  he,  and  with  that  he  turned 
to  greet  Pierre. 

"  Well,  how  are  you  ?  Stout  as  ever ! "  he  said  in  a  lively 
tone,  but  the  newly  furrowed  frown  grew  still  deeper.  "  Yes, 
I  am  well,"  he  replied,  in  answer  to  Pierre's  question,  and 
laughed.  Pierre  saw  clearly  that  this  laugh  was  affected,  and 
was  simply  equivalent  to  saying,  "  Well,  but  who  cares  whether 
I  am  well,  or  ill  ?  " 

After  exchanging  a  few  words  with  Pierre  in  regard  to  the 
frightful  travelling  from  the  Polish  frontier,  and  how  he  met 
in  Switzerland  a  number  of  men  who  had  known  Pierre,  and 
about  Mr.  Dessalles,  whom  he  had  brought  from  abroad  as  his 
son's  tutor.  Prince  Andrei  again,  with  feverish  eagerness,  re- 
turned to  the  topic  of  Speransky,  which  the  two  old  men  still 
kept  on  the  tapis. 

"  If  there  had  been  any  treason,  and  if  there  had  been  any 
proofs  of  his  correspondence  with  N'apoleon,  then  they  would 
surely  have  been  published  broadcast,"  said  he,  speaking  excit- 
edly and  fluently.  "  Personally  I  do  not  like  Speransky,  and 
I  have  not  liked  him  in  the  past,  but  I  do  Tike  justice." 

Pierre  was  aware  that  his  iriend  was  now  laboring  under  that 
necessity,  which  he  himself  bad  only  too  often  experienced,  of 


388  ^^^  ^^^  PEACE. 

getting  thoroughly  stirred  up  and  excited  over  some  alien  topic, 
simply  for  the  purpose  of  dispelling  thoughts  too  heavy  to  be 
endured. 

When  Prince  Meshchersky  had  taken  his  departure,  Prince 
Andrei  took  Pierre's  arm,  and  drew  him  into  the  room  which 
had  been  prepared  for  his  occupancy.  In  this  room  a  bed  had 
been  hastily  set  up :  tninks  and  boxes,  opened,  were  scattered 
about.  Prince  Andrei  went  to  one  of  these  and  took  out  a 
casket,  and  from  the  casket  a  packet  wrapped  in  a  paper.  All 
this  he  did  silently  and  very  swiftly.  He  straightened  himself 
up  and  cleared  his  throat.  His  face  was  gloomy  and  his  lips 
compressed. 

"  Forgive  me  if  I  trouble  you  "  — 

Pierre  perceived  that  Prince  Andrei  was  going  to  speak  about 
Natasha,  and  his  broad  countenance  expressed  pity  and  sym- 
pathy. This  expression  on  Pierre's  face  nettled  Prince  Andrei. 
He  went  on  in  a  loud,  decided,  and  disagreeable  voice,  — 

"I  have  received  my  dismissal  from  the  Countess  Rostova; 
and  rumors  have  I'eached  my  ears  of  your  brother-in-law  having 
offered  himself  to  her,  or  something  to  that  effect,  —  is  that 
true  ?  " 

"  Whether  true  or  false  "  —  Pierre  began,  but  Prince  Andrei 
interrupted  him. 

"Here  are  her  letters  and  her  miniature.''  He  took  the 
packet  from  the  table  and  handed  them  to  Pierre. 

"  Give  this  to  the  countess  —  if  you  happen  to  see  her." 

"  She  is  very  ill,"  said  Pierre. 

"So  she  is  still  here?"  inquired  Prince  Andrei.  "And 
Prince  Kuragin  ?  "  he  asked  hastily. 

"He  went  away  some  time  ago.    She  almost  died"  — 

"  I  am  very  sorry  for  her  illness,"  said  Prince  Andrei.  He 
smiled  coldly,  evilly,  disagreeably,  like  his  father. 

"  But  Mr.  Kuragin  did  not,  then,  honor  the  Countess  Bostova 
with  the  offer  of  his  hand  ?  "  asked  Prince  Andrei.  He  snorted 
several  times. 

"  It  is  impossi^Dle  for  him  to  marry,  for  the  reason  that  he 
is  already  married,"  said  Pierre. 

Prince  Andrei  gave  a  disagreeable  laugh,  again  suggestive 
of  his  father. 

"And  where,  pray,  is  he  now  to  be  found  —  this  precious 
brother-in-law  of  yours,  may  I  ask  ?  "  said  he. 

"  He  has  gone  to  Peter  —  However,  I  don't  really  know," 
said  Pierre. 

"Well,  it's  all  the  same  to  me,"  said  Prince  Andrei.    "As- 


WAR  AND  PEACE.  889 

sure  the  Countess  Rostova  that  she  has  been,  and  is,  perfectly 
Tree,  and  that  I  wish  her  all  happiness." 

Pierre  took  the  package  of  letters.  Prince  Andrei,  as  though 
trying  to  make  up  his  mind  whether  it  were  not  necessary  for 
him  to  sav  something,  or  expecting  Pierre  to  say  something, 
looked  at  him  keenly. 

"  See  here,  do  you  remember  a  discussion  we  once  had  in 
Petersburg  ?     Do  you  remember  "  — 

"  Yes,  I  remember,"  said  Prince  Andrei  hurriedly.  "  I  said 
that  a  fallen  woman  ought  to  be  forgiven  ;  but  I  did  not  say 
that  in  my  own  ease  I  should  forgive  her.     I  cannot." 

"  But  wherein  is  the  comparison  ?  "  asked  Pierre. 

Prince  Andrei  interrupted  him.  His  voice  was  loud  and 
shrill :  — 

"  Yes,  ask  her  hand  again.  Be  magnanimous,  and  all  that. 
—  Yes,  thjit  would  be  very  noble,  but  I  am  not  capable  of  fol- 
lowing in  this  gentleman's  footsteps.  —  If  you  wish  to  continue 
my  friend,  never  mention  this  to  me  again  —  not  a  word  about 
it.     Now,  good-by.     You  will  give  this  to  her,  will  you  ?  " 

Pierre  left  the  room,  and  went  to  the  old  prince  and  the 
Princess  Mariya. 

The  old  prince  seemed  more  animated  than  usual.  The 
princess  was  her  ordinary  self,  but  back  of  her  sympathy  for 
ner  brother,  Pierre  could  see  that  she  was  delighted  at  having 
the  engagement  broken.  As  Pierre  looked  at  them,  he  realized 
how  deep  were  the  scorn  and  dislike  which  they  all  felt  towai'd 
the  Rostofs  ;  he  realized  that  it  was  wholly  hopeless  even  to 
mention  her  name,  though  she  might  have  had  any  one  else 
in  the  world  in  Prince  Andrei^s  place. 

At  dinner  the  conversation  turned  on  the  war  which  was  un- 
questionably imminent.  Prince  Andrei  kept  up  an  unceasing 
stream  of  talk  and  discussion  with  his  father,  or  with  Mr.  Des- 
salles,  his  son's  Swiss  tutor,  and  he  displayed  more  excitement 
than  usual,  and  Pierre  knew  only  too  well  the  moral  cause  of 
this  excitement. 


CHAPTER  XXn. 

That  same  evening  Pierre  went  to  call  upon  the  Rostofs,  to 
fulfil  his  commission. 

Natasha  was  in  bed,  the  count  had  gone  to  the  club,  and 
Pierre,  having  intrusted  the  letters  into  Sonya's  hands,  went 
to  Marya  Dmitrievna,  who  was  greatly  interested  to  know  how 
Prince  Andrei  had  received  the  news. 


390  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

Ten  minutes  later,  Sonya  appeared. 

"  Natasha  is  determined  to  see  Count  Piotr  Kirillovitch/*  said 
she. 

"  But  how  can  he  go  to  her  room  ?  Everything  is  in  dis- 
order there,"  said  Marya  Dmitrievna. 

'^  But  she  is  di*essed,  and  has  come  down  into  the  drawing- 
room,"  said  Sonya. 

Marya  Dmitrievna  merely  shrugged  her  shoulders. 

"  If  only  the  countess  would  come ;  this  is  a  perfect  torture 
to  me.  Now  be  careful,  and  don't  tell  her  everything,"  she 
added,  wamingly.  "It  would  break  my  heart  if  anything 
wei-e  said  to  hurt  her ;  she  is  so  to  be  pitied,  so  to  be  pitied !  ** 

Natasha,  grown  decidedly  thin,  and  with  pale,  smileless 
face  —  though  not  at  all  confused,  as  Pierre  supposed  she 
would  be  —  stood  in  the  middle  of  the  drawing-room.     Wh*- 
Pierre  made  his  appearance  in  the  door,  she  hesitated,  ev 
dently  undecided  whether  to  go  to  him  or  wait  for  him. 

Pierre  hastened  forward.  He  supposed  that  she  would,  a 
usual,  give  him  her  hand.  But  she  stood  motionless,  sighin 
deeply,  and  with  her  arms  hanging  lifelessly,  in  exactly  th 
same  pose  that  she  always  took  when  she  went  into  the  middle 
of  the  music-room  to  sing,  only  with  an  entirely  different  ex 
pression. 

"Piotr   Kirillovitch,"    she   began,  speaking  very  swiftlj*, 
"  Prince  Bolkonsky  was  your  friend,  and  is  still  your  friend," 
she  added,  by  an  afterthought ;  for  it  seemed  to  her  that  every 
thing  was  past,  and  all  things  had  become  new.     "  He  told  m* 
once  to  turn  to  you  if  "  — 

Pierre  quietly  blew  his  nose  as  he  looked  at  her.     Till  tha 
moment,  he  had,  in  his  heart,  blamed  her,  and  tried  to  despia%. 
her ;  but  now  she  seemed  to  him  so  eminently  deserving  of 
pity,  that  there  was  no  room  in  his  heart  for  reproach. 

"He  is  here  now;  please  ask  him  to  for  —  forgive"  —  shi 
paused,  and  breathed  still  faster,  but  she  did  not  weep. 

"  Yes,  I  will  tell  him,"  said  Pierre.    He  knew  not  what  to  say. 

Natasha  was  evidently  terrified  by  what  Pierre  might,  have 
thought  she  meant. 

"  Yes,  I  know  that  all  is  over  between  us,"  said  she,  hur- 
riedly. "No,  it  can  never  be.  All  that  tortures  me  is  the 
wrong  that  I  have  done  him.  Only  ask  him  to  forgive,  for- 
give, forgive  me  for  all "  —  Her  whole  frame  trembled,  and 
she  sat  down  in  a  chair. 

Never  before  had  Pierre  experienced  Such  a  feeling  o{  cccft- 

passioij  as  uow  came  Qver  klm, 


WAR  AND  PEACE,  391 

"  I  will  tell  him,  I  will  certainly  tell  him  all,"  said  Pierre. 
•*  But  I  should  like  to  know  one  thing." 

"  What  ?  "  asked  Natasha, 

"  I  should  like  to  ask  if  you  loved  "  —  Pierre  did  not  know 
■  'lat  term  to  use  in  speaking  of  Anatol.  "  Did  you  love  that 
.lie  man  ?" 

"Don't  call  him   vile,"   exclaimed  Natasha.     "But  I  —  I 
<-'  n't  know ;  I  don't  know  at  all."     Then  the  tears  came  again. 

And  a  still  more  intense  feeling  of  pity,  affectionate  compas- 

•)ii,  and  love,  came  over  Pierre.     He  was  conscious  of  the  tears 
w  filing  out  from  under  his  spectacles  and  dropping,  and  he 
.  >ped  that  they  would  not  be  seen. 

"  Let  us  say  no  more  about  it,  my  dear,"  said  Pierre.     Strange 

» Adeed  suddenly  seemed  to  Natasha  the  sound  of  his  voice,  so 

•veet,  80  tender,  so  sincere.     "  Let   us  say  no  more  about  it, 

'V  dear,  I  will  tell  him  all ;  but  one  thing  I  want  to  ask  you : 

asider  me  your  friend,  and  if  you  need  any  help  or  advice, 

^•^'  simply  if  you  need  some  one  in  whom  you  can  confide  — 

^t  now,  but  by  and  by,  when  everything  is  clear  to  your  own 

.^nd,  remember  me."     He  took  her  hand  and  kissed  it.       "  I 

should  be  happy,  if  I  were  in  the  position  to"  —  Pierre  grew 

I  "infused. 

"  Do  not  speak  to  me  so,  I  do  not  de.3erve  it ! "  cried  Natasha, 

Tid  she  started  to  leave  the  room  ;  but  Pierre  detained  her  by 

1  le  hand.    He  knew  that  there  was  something  more  he  must 

'  11  her.     But  when  he  had  spoken  it,  he  was  amazed  at  his 

Vn  words. 

"  Wait,  wait !  all  life  is  before  you,"  said  he. 
'^"Before  me!"  she  exclaimed.     "Before  me  is- only  ruin ! " 
-^e  exclaimed,  in  the  depths  of  shame  and  self-reproach. 

"  Ruin !  "  he  repeated ;  "  if  I  were  not  myself,  but  the  hand- 
)me«t,  wisest,  and  best  man  in  the  world,  and  were  free,  I 
.^ould  this  very  instant,  on  my  knees,  sue  for  your  hand  and 
^  our  love." 

Natasha,  for  the  first  time  in  many  days,  wept  tears  of  grat- 
jtude  and  emotion ;  and,  giving  Pierre  one  look,  she  fled  from 
:  ^e  room. 

Pierre  followed  her,  almost  running,  and  restraining  the 
'•'^  of  tenderness  and  happiness  that  choked  him.    Throw- 
ijfhis  shuba  over  his  shoulders,  but  without  putting  his  arms 
irough  the  sleeves,  he  went  out  and  got  into  his  sledge. 

"  Where  now  ?  "  asked  the  driver. 

"Where  ?  "  repeated  Pierre  to  himself.     "  Where  can  I  go 

now  ?    To  the  club,  or  to  make  gome  c^ls  ?  "    All  men,  at  this 


392 


WAR  AND  PEACE, 


moment,  seemed  to  him  so  contemptible,  so  mean,  in  comparison 
with  that  feeling  of  emotion  and  love  which  overmastered  him ; 
in  comparison  with  that  softened  glance  of  gratitude  which  she 
had  given  him  just  now  through  her  tears. 

"  Home,"  said  Pierre,  throwing  back  his  bearskin  shuba,  and 
exposing  his  broad,  joyfully  throbbing  chest,  though  the  mer- 
cury marked  ten  degrees  of  frost. 

It  was  cold  and  clear.  Above  the  dirty,  half-lighted  streets, 
above  the  black  roofs  of  the  houses,  stretched  the  dark,  starry 
heavens.  Only  as  Pierre  gazed  at  the  heavens  above,  he  ceased 
to  feel  the  humiliating  pettiness  of  everything  earthly  in  com- 
parison with  the  height  to  which  his  soul  aspired.  As  he 
drove  out  on  the  Arbatskaya  Square,  the  mighty  expanse  of 
the  dark,  starry  sky  spread  out  before  Pierre's  eyes.  Almost 
in  the  zenith  of  this  sky  —  above  the  Pretchistensky  Boule- 
vard,— convoyed  and  surrounded  on  every  side  by  stars,  but 
distinguished  from  all  the  rest  by  its  nearness  to  the  earth, 
and  by  its  white  light,  and  by  its  long,  curling  tail,  stood  the 
tremendous  brilliant  comet  of  1812,  —  the  same  which  men 
thought  presaged  all  manner  of  woes  and  the  end  of  the 
world. 

But  in  Pierre,  this  brilliant  luminary,  with  its  long  train  of 
light,  awoke  no  terror.  On  the  contrary,  rapturouslv,  his  eyes 
wet  with  tears,  he  contemplated  this  glorious  star  which  seemed 
to  him  to  have  come  flying  with  inconceivable  swiftness  through 
measureless  space,  straight  toward  the  earth,  there  to  strike 
like  an  enormous  arrow,  and  remain  in  that  one  fate-designated 
spot  upon  the  dark  sky ;  and,  pausing,  raise  aloft  with  mor- 
strous  force  its  curling  tail,  flashing  and  playing  with  white 
light,  amid  the  countless  other  stars  doomed  to  perish.  It 
seemed  to  Pierre  that  this  star  was  the  complete  reply  to  all 
that  was  in  his  soul  flowing  into  new  life,  and  filled  with  ten- 
derness and  love. 


2 


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