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War and Peace 



BY LEO TOLSTOY 



Translated b\ LOUISE and AYLMER MAUDE 




WILLIAM BENTON, Publisher 



ENCYCLOPEDIA BR1TANNICA, INC. 



CHICAGO - LONDON - TORONTO 



BY ARRANGEMENT WITH OXFORD UNIVERSITY PRESS 



COPYRIGHT IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA, 1952, 
BY ENCYCLOPEDIA BRITANNICA,INC. 

COPYRIGHT 1952. COPYRIGHT UNDER INTERNATIONAL COPYRIG^ 
ENCYCLOP *:DIA BRITANNICA, INC. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED UNDER 
COPYRIGHT CONVENTIONS BY ENCYCLOPEDIA BRITANJ^ 



BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE 
LEO TOLSTOY, 18281910 



COUNT LEO NIKOLAYEVICH TOLSTOY was born 
August 28, 1828, at the family estate of Yasna- 
ya Polyana, in the province of Tula. His moth- 
er died when he was three and his father six 
years later. Placed in the care of his aunts, he 
passed many of his early years at Kazan, where, 
in 1844, after a preliminary training by French 
tutors, he entered the university. He cared lit- 
tle for the university and in 1847 withdrew be- 
cause of "ill-health and domestic circum- 
stances." He had, however, done a great deal 
of reading, of French, English, and Russian 
novels, the New Testament, Voltaire, and 
Hegel. The author exercising the greatest in- 
fluence upon him at this time was Rousseau; 
he read his complete works and for sometime 
wore about his neck a medallion of Rousseau. 

Immediately upon leaving the university, 
Tolstoy returned to his estate and, perhaps inr 
spired by his enthusiasm for Rousseau, pre- 
pared to devote himself to agriculture and to 
improving the condition of his serfs. His first 
attempt at social reform proved disappointing, 
and after six months he withdrew to Moscow 
and St. Petersburg, where he gave himself over 
to the irregular life characteristic of his class 
and time. In 1851, determined to "escape my 
debts and, more than anything else, my hab- 
its," he enlisted in the Army as a gentleman- 
volunteer, and went to the Caucasus. While at 
Tiflis, preparing for his examinations as a 
cadet, he wrote the first portion of the trilogy, 
Childhood, Boyhood, and Youth, in which he 
celebrated the happiness of "being with Na- 
ture, seeing her, communing with her." He al- 
so began The Cossacks with the intention of 
showing that culture is the enemy of happi- 
ness. Although continuing his army life, he 
gradually came to realize that "a military ca- 
reer is not for me, and the sooner I get out of 
it and devote myself entirely to literature the 
better." His Sevastopol Sketches (1855) were 
so successful that Czar Nicholas issued special 
orders that he should be removed from a post 
of danger. 

Returning to St. Petersburg, Tolstoy was re- 
ceived with great favor in both the official and 
literary circles of the capital. He soon became 



interested in the popular progressive move- 
ment of the time, and in 1857 he decided to go 
abroad and study the educational and munici- 
pal systems of other countries. That year, and 
again in 1860, he traveled in Europe. At Yas- 
naya Polyana in 1861 he liberated his serfs and 
opened a school, established on the principle 
that "everything which savours of compulsion 
is harmful." He started a magazine to promote 
his notions on education and at the same time 
served as an official arbitrator for grievances 
between the nobles and the recently emanci- 
pated serfs. By the end of 1863 he was so ex- 
hausted that he discontinued his activities and 
retired to the steppes to drink koumis for his 
health. 

Tolstoy had been contemplating marriage 
for some time, and in 1862 he married Sophie 
Behrs, sixteen years his junior, and the daugh- 
ter of a fashionable Moscow doctor. Their 
early married life at Yasnaya Polyana was 
tranquil. Family cares occupied the Countess, 
and in the course of her life she bore thirteen 
children, nine of whom survived infancy. Yet 
she also acted as a copyist for her husband, 
who after their marriage turned again to writ- 
ing. He was soon at work upon "a novel of 
the i8io's and *2o's" which absorbed all his 
time and effort. He went frequently to Mos- 
cow, "studying letters, diaries, and traditions" 
and "accumulated a whole library" of histori- 
cal material on the period. He interviewed 
survivors of the battles of that time and trav- 
eled to Borodino to draw up a map of the 
battleground. Finally, in 1869, after his work 
had undergone several changes in conception 
and he had "spent five years of uninterrupted 
andjgxceptionally strenuous labor Tnnierthe 
IbesfcondUtions of life/' he published War and 
Peace. Its appearance immediately established 
Tolstoy's reputation, and in the judgment of 
Turgenev, the acknowledged dean of Russian 
letters, gave him "first place among all our 
contemporary writers." 

The years immediately following the com- 
pletion of War and Peace were pa**efl in a 
great variety of occupations, none of which 
Tohtoy found satisfying. He tried busying 



VI 



BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE 



himself with the affairs of his estate, under- 
took the learning of Greek to read the ancient 
classics, turned again to education, wrote a 
series of elementary school books, and served 
as school inspector. With much urging from 
his wife and friends, he completed Anna Kare- 
nina, which appeared serially between 1875 
and 1877. Disturbed by what he considered his 
unreflective and prosperous existence, Tolstoy 
became increasingly interested in religion. At 
first he turned to the orthodox faith of the 
people. Unable to find rest there, he began a 
detailed examination of religions, and out of 
his reading, particularly of the Gospels, gradu- 
ally evolved his own personal doctrine. 

Following his conversion, Tolstoy adopted 
a new mode of life. He dressed like a peasant, 
devoted much of his time to manual work, 
learned shoemaking, and followed a vegetari- 
an diet. With the exception of his youngest 
daughter, Alexandra, Tolstoy's family re- 
mained hostile to his teaching. The breach be- 
tween him and his wife grew steadily wider. 
In 1879 he wrote the Kreutzer Sonata in which 
he attacked the normal state of marriage and 
extolled a life of celibacy and chastity. In 1881 
he divided his estate among his heirs and, a 
few years later, despite the opposition of his 
wife, announced that he would forego royal- 
ties on all the works published after his con- 
version. 

Tolstoy made no attempt at first to propa- 
gate his religious teaching, although it attracted 



many followers. After a visit to the Moscow 
slums iri 1881, he became concerned with social 
conditions, and he subsequently aided the suf- 
ferers of the famine by sponsoring two hun- 
dred and fifty relief kitchens. After his meet- 
ing and intimacy with Chertkov, "Tolstoyism" 
began to develop as an organized sect. Tol- 
stoy's writings became almost exclusively pre- 
occupied with religious problems. In addition 
to numerous pamphlets and plays, he wrote 
IV hat is Art? (1896), in which he explained 
his new aesthetic theories, and Hadji-Murad, 
(1904), which became the favorite work of his 
old age. Although his activities were looked 
upon with increasing suspicion by the official 
authorities, Tolstoy escaped official censure 
until 1901, when he was excommunicated by 
the Orthodox Church. His followers were f re- 
quently subjected to persecution, and many 
were either banished or imprisoned. 

Tolstoy's last years were embittered by 
mounting hostility within his own household. 
Although his personal life was ascetic, he felt 
the ambiguity of his position as a preacher of 
poverty living on his great estate. Finally, at 
the age of eighty-two, with the aid of his daugh- 
ter, Alexandra, he fled from home. His health 
broke down a few days later, and he was re- 
moved from the train to the station-master's 
hut at Astopovo, where he died, November 7, 
1910. He was buried at Yasnaya Polyana, in 
the first public funeral to be held in Russia 
without religious rites. 



CONTEXTS 



BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE v 

The Principal Characters in War and Peace 

Arranged in Family Groups xv 

Dates of Principal Historical Events xvi 

BOOK ONE 

1-5. Anna Sche'rer's soiree i 

6-3. Pierre at Prince Andrew's 1 1 

9. Pierre at Anatole Kurdgin's. D61ok- 

hov's bet 15 

10. A name day at the Rost6vs' 18 

11-1*4. Natasha and Boris 20 

15. Anna Mikhdylovna and Bon's go to the 

dying Count Beziikhov's 26 

16. Pierre at his father's house; talks with 

Boris 27 

17. Countess Rost6va and Anna Mikhay- 

lovna 30 

18-19. Dinner at the Rost6vs'. Marya Dmitri- 

cvna 31 

20. S6nyaand Natasha. Nicholassings.The 

Daniel Cooper 35 

21. At Count Bczukhov's. Prince Vasfli and 

Catiche 37 

22-23. Anna Mikhdylovna and Pierre at Count 

Bczukhov's 41 

24. Anna Mikhdylovna and Catiche strug- 

gle for the inlaid portfolio 45 

25. Bald Hills. Prince N. A. Bolkonski. 

Princess Mary's correspondence with 

Julie Kardgina 47 

26-27. Prince Andrew at Bald Hills 51 

28. Prince Andrew leaves to join the army. 

Princess Mary gives him an icon 55 

BOOK TWO 

1-2. Review near Braunau. Zherk6v and 
D61okhov 60 

3. Kutuzov and an Austrian general. ^Le 

malheureux Mack. Zherk6v's fool- 
ery 65 

4. Nicholas and Denisov. Telydnin and 

the missing purse 68 

5. Nicholas in trouble with his fellow of- 

ficers 72 

6-8. Crossing the Enns. Burning the bridge. 

Rost6v's baptism of fire 74 

9. Prince Andrew sent with dispatches to 

the Austrian court. The Minister of 

War 81 



10. Prince ( Andrew and Billbin 83 

1 1. Hippolyte Kuragin and les ndtres 86 

12. Prince Andrew received by the Emper- 

or Francis. Bilibin's story of the Tha- 
bor Bridge 87 

13-14. Prince Andrew returns to Kutuzov. 
Bagrati6n sent to Hollabriinn. 
Napoleon's letter to Murat 89 

15. Prince Andrew reports to Bagrati6n. 

Captain Tiishin. Soldiers at the front. 
D61okhov talks to a French grena- 
dier 94 

16. Prince Andrew surveys the position. 

The first shot 96 

17. Bagration in action. Tiishin's battery. 

Setting Schon Grabern on fire 97 
18-19. Battle scenes. Quarrelsome command- 
ers. Nicholas injured 99 

20. Panic. Timokhirfs counterattack. D6- 

lokhov's insistence. Tiishin's battery. 
Prince Andrew sent to order him to 
retreat 104 

2 1 . Withdrawal of the forces. Nicholas rides 

on a gun carriage. Tiishin called to 
account by Bagrati6n. Prince Andrew 
defends him. Nicholas' depression 

106 

BOOK THREE 

1-2. Prince Vasfli and Pierre. A soiree at 
AnnaPa vlovna's. IMene'sname day. 
Pierre's marriage 1 1 1 

3. Prince Vasili and Anatole visit Prince 

N. A. Bolkonski. Princess Mary's ap- 
pearance 119 

4. Lise, Mademoiselle Bourienne, Mary, 

Anatole, and old Bolkonski 122 

5. Her father's opposition to Mary's 

marrying. She finds Mademoiselle 
Bourienne and Anatole in the con- 
servatory; declines marriage 126 

6. A letter from Nicholas. S6nya and Na- 

tasha 128 

7. Nicholas visits Boris and Berg in camp. 

Nicholas tells of Schon Grabern. His 
encounter with Prince Andrew 131 

8. The Emperor reviews the army. En- 

thusiasm of Nicholas 135 

9. Boris visits Prince Andrew; at Olimitz. 

Prince Dolgoriikov 137 



vn 



V1U 



CONTENTS 



10. Nicholas not in the action at Wischau. 

The Emperor. Nicholas' devotion to 
him 140 

11. Preparations for action. Dolgorukov's 

opinion of Napoleon and of his posi- 
tion. Kutuzov's depression 142 

1 2. The Council of War. Weyrother's plans. 

Kutiizov sleeps. Prince Andrew's re- 
flections 144 

13. Rost6v at the front. Visit of Bagrati6n 

and Dolgonikov. Rost6v sent to rec- 
onnoiter. Napoleon's proclamation 

M7 

14-19. Battle of Austerlitz. Prince Andrew 
badly wounded 150 

BOOK FOUR 

1. Nicholas home on leave 165 

2. Preparations for Club dinner 168 

3. The dinner. Bagration as guest of 

honor 1 7 1 

4. Pierre challenges D61okhov 173 

5. The duel 176 

6. Pierre's separation from Hlene 177 

7. Andrew considered dead 1 79 

8. Lise's confinement. Andrew arrives 180 

9. Death of Lise 182 

10. Denfsov and D61okhov at the Rost6vs' 

83 

11. S6nya declines D61okhov's proposal 

12. logel's ball. Denfsov's mazurka 186 
13-14. Nicholas loses 43,000 rubles to D61ok- 

hov 188 

15. Nicholas at home. Natdsha sings 190 

16. Nicholas tells his father of his losses. 

Denfsov proposes to Natdsha 192 

BOOK FIVE 

1-2. Pierre meets Bazde"ev 194 

3-4. Pierre becomes a Freemason 198 

5. Pierre repulses Prince Vasfli 203 

6. A soiree at Anna Pdvlovna's. Hlene 

takes up Borfs 204 

7. Hippolyte at Anna Pdvlovna's 206 

8. Old Bolk6nski as commander in chief 

of the conscription. Andrew's anx- 
iety. A letter from his father 206 

9. Bilfbin's letter about the campaign. 

The baby convalescent 208 

10. Pierre goes to Kiev and visits his estates. 

Obstacles to the emancipation of his 
serfs 211 

11. Pierre visits Prince Andrew 213 

12. Pierre's and Prince Andrew's talk on 

the ferry raft 216 



13. "God's folk" at Bald Hills 218 

14. Old Bolk6nski and Pierre 220 

15. Nicholas rejoins his regiment. Shortage 

of provisions 221 

16. Denfsov seizes transports of food, gets 

into trouble, is wounded 223 

17-18. Nicholas visits Denfsov in hospital 225 

19. Borfs at Tilsit. Nicholas' inopportune 

visit 228 

20. Nicholas tries to present Denfsov's peti- 

tion at the Emperor's residence, but 
fails 230 

21. Napoleon and Alexander as allies. 

Perplexity of Nicholas. "Another 
bottle" 232 

BOOK SIX 

1-3. Prince Andrew's occupations at Bogu- 
charovo. His drive through the for- 
estthe bare oak. His visit to the Ros- 
t6vs at Otrddnoe. Overhears Natd- 
sha's talk with S6nya. Return through 
the forest the oak in leaf. He de- 
cides to go to Petersburg 235 

4-6. Sperdnski, Arakcheev, and Prince An- 
drew 238 

7-8. Pierre and the Petersburg Freemasons. 
He visits Joseph Alex^evich. Recon- 
ciliation with H^lene 243 
9. H^lene's social success. Her salon and 
relations with Borfs 247 

10. Pierre's diary 248 

11. The Rost6vs in Petersburg. Berg 

engaged to Vera and demands her 
dowry 250 

12. Natdsha and Borfs 251 

13. Natdsha's bedtime talks with her 

mother 252 

14-17. Natdsha's first grand ball. She dances 
with Prince Andrew 254 

18. Bitski calls on Prince Andrew. Dinner 
at Sperdnski's. Prince Andrew's dis- 
illusionment with him and his re- 
forms 260 
49. Prince Andrew calls on the Rost6vs. 
Natdsha's effect on him 262 
20-21. The Bergs' evening party 263 

22. Natdsha consults her mother. Prince 

Andrew confides in Pierre 265 

23. Prince N. Bolk6nski insists on post- 

ponement of his son's marriage. Na- 
tdsha's distress at Prince Andrew's 
absence. He returns and they become 
engaged 267 

24. Prince Andrew's last days with Na- 

tdsha 270 



CONTENTS 



25. Prince N. Bolk6nski's treatment of 

Mary. Her letter to Julie Kirdgina 

271 

26. Prince N. Bolk6nski threatens to marry 

Mile Bourienne 273 

BOOK SEVEN 

1. Nicholas Rost6v returns home on leave. 

His doubts about Natasha's engagement 

275 

2. Nicholas settles accounts with Mftenka 

277 

3. Nicholas decides to go hunting 278 

4. The wolf hunt begins 279 

5. The wolf is taken 281 

6. The fox hunt and the huntsmen's quarrel. 

Ildgin's courtesy. Chasing a hare. Ru- 
gdy's triumph 284 

7. An evening at "Uncle's." The balaldyka. 

Natasha's Russian dance 287 

8. His mother urges Nicholas to marry Julie 

Karagina, and grumbles at S6nya 291 

9. Christmas at Otradnoe. Natasha is de- 

pressed and capricious 292 

10. Nicholas, Natasha, and S6nya indulge in 

recollections. Dimmlcr plays and Nata- 
sha sings. The maskers. A troyka drive to 
the Melyuk6vs' 294 

11. At Melyuk6vka. Sonya goes to the barn to 

try her fortune 298 

12. The drive home. Natasha and S6nya try 

the future with looking glasses 300 

13. His mother opposes Nicholas' wish to 

marry S6nya, and he returns to his regi- 
ment. Natasha becomes restless and im- 
patient for Prince Andrew's return 301 

BOOK EIGHT 

1. Pierre's life in Moscow. Asks himself "What 

for?" and "Why?" 303 

2. Prince N. Bolk6nski in Moscow. His harsh 

treatment of Princess Mary. She teaches 
little Nicholas. The old prince and Mile 
Bourienne 305 

3. Dr. Mdtivier treated as a spy by the old 

prince. The dinner on the prince's name 
day 307 

4. Pierre and Princess Mary discuss Boris and 

Natdsha 309 

5. Boris and Julie. Their melancholy. Boris 

proposes and is accepted 3 1 1 

6. Count IlydRost6v,Natdsha,andS6nyastay 

with Mdrya Dmftrievna in Moscow 313 

7. Count Rost6v and Natdsha call on Prince 

N. Bolk6nski.They are received by Prin- 
cess Mary. Prince Bolk6nski's strange 



ix 

behavior. Mary and Natisha dislike one 
another 314 

8. The Rost6vs at the Opera. Hlne in the 

next box 316 

9. The Opera described. Anatole and Pierre 

arrive. Natdsha makes Hlne's ac- 
quaintance. Duport dances 318 

10. Hdtene presents Anatole to Natdsha. He 

courts her 320 

11. Anatole and D61okhov in Moscow 321 

12. Sunday at Mdrya Dmftrievna's. Hlne 

calls and invites the Rost6vs to hear Mile 
George recite. She tells Natdsha that 
Anatole is in love with her 322 

13. The reception at Hlne's. Mile George. 

Anatole dances with Natdsha and makes 
love to her. Her perplexity as to her 
own feelings 324 

14. Princess Mary's letter to Natdsha, who also 

receives one from Anatole 325 

15. S6nya finds Anatole's letter and remon- 

strates with Natdsha, who writes to Prin- 
cess Mary breaking off her engagement 
with Prince Andrew. A party at the 
Kardgins'. Anatole meets Natdsha. She 
is angry with S6nya, who resolves to pre- 
vent her elopement 327 

16. Anatole at Dolokhov's. Balagd 329 

17. Anatole sets off to abduct Natdsha, but en- 

counters Mdrya Dmftrievna's footman 

332 

18. Mdrya Dmitrievna reproaches Natdsha. 

Count Ilyd Rost6v is kept in ignorance 

333 

19. Pierre at Mdrya Dmftrievna's. He tells Na- 

tdsha that Anatole is married 334 

20. Pierre's explanation with Anatole 336 

21. Natdsha tries to poison herself. Prince An- 

drew returns to Moscow and Pierre talks 
to him 337 

22. Pierre and Natdsha. He tells her of his de- 

votion. The great comet of 1812 339 

BOOK NINE 

1. The year 1812. Rulers and generals are 

"history's slaves" 342 

2. Napoleon crosses the Niemen and sees 

Polish Uhlans drowned swimming the 
Vfliya 344 

3. Alexander I at Vflna. The ball at Count 

Bennigsen's. Borfs overhears the Em- 
peror speaking to Balashev and learns 
that the French have crossed the fron- 
tier. Alexander's letter to Napole6n 346 

4. Balashev's mission to Napoleon, He meets 

Murat, "the King of Naples" 347 



CONTENTS 



5. Balashev taken to Davout, who treats him 

badly, but he is at last presented to Na- 
poleon in Vilna 349 

6. Balashe'v's interview with Napoleon 350 

7. Balashev dines with Napoleon 354 

8. Prince Andrew on Kutiizov's staff in Mol- 

davia. He is sent to Barclay's army. Visits 
Bald Hills. His talks with his father and 
Princess Mary 355 

9. Prince Andrew in the army at Drissa. Eight 

conflicting parties 358 

10. Prince Andrew is introduced to Pfuel 361 

1 1. An informal Council of War. Pfuel's dog- 

matism 363 

it. Nicholas writes to Sdnya. He and Ilyin in 

a storm 365 

13. Mary Hendrfkhovna. The officers and the 

doctor 367 

14. Courage. Rost6v goes into action at Ostr6- 

vna 369 

15. Rost6v's hussars charge the French dra- 

goons. He wounds and captures* a pris- 
oner 370 

16. Natasha's illness. The use of doctors 372 

1 7. Natasha and Pierre. She prepares for com- 

munion with Bel6va. The church serv- 
ice. Her health improves 373 

18. Natasha attends Mass and hears the spe- 

cial prayer for victory 374 

19. Pierre's relation to life altered by his feel- 

ing for Natasha. 666. Napoleon as Anti- 
christ. Pierre's belief that he is destined 
to end Napoleon's power. He gets news 
for the Rost6vs 377 

10. Pierre at the Rost6vs'. Natasha again takes 
up her singing. S6nya reads Alexander's 
manifesto. Pe"tya declares that he will 
enter the army. Natasha realizes that 
Pierre loves her. He decides to cease go- 
ing to the Rostovs' 379 

at. Pe"tya goes to the Kremlin to see the Em- 
peror. He gets crushed. He secures a bis- 
cuit thrown by the Emperor after din- 
ner 382 

22. Assembly of gentry and merchants at the 

Sloboda Palace. A limited discussion. 
Pierre's part in it 384 

23. Count Rostopchfn's remarks. The offer 

made by the Moscow nobility and gen- 
try. The Emperor's speech. Pierre offers 
to supply and maintain a thousand men 

387 

BOOK TEN 

i. Reflections on the campaign of 1812. The 
course of events was fortuitous and un- 
foreseen by either side 389 



2. Prince N. Bolk6nski and his daughter. His 

fcreak with Mile Bourienne. Mary's cor- 
respondence with Julie. The old prince 
receives a letter from Prince Andrew 
but does not grasp its meaning and con- 
fuses the present invasion with the Pol- 
ish campaign of 1807 391 

3. The old prince sends Alpdtych to Smolensk 

with various commissions, and does not 
know where to have his bed placed. He 
remembers Prince Andrew's letter and 
reads and understands it 393 

4. Princess Mary sends a letter to the Gover- 

nor at Smolensk. Alpdtych sets off on 
August 4; reaches Smolensk that eve- 
ning and stays at Ferapontov's inn. Fir- 
ing heard outside the town. Next day he 
does his business, but finds alarm spread- 
ing, and is advised by the Governor that 
the Bolkonskis had better go to Mos- 
cow. The town bombarded. Ferap6ntov's 
cook has her thigh broken by a shell. 
Retreating soldiers loot Ferapontov's 
shop and he declares he will set his 
place on fire himself and not leave it 
to the French. Alpatych meets Prince 
Andrew, who has an encounter with 
Berg 395 

5. Prince Andrew passing Bald Hills with his 

regiment. The retreat: heat and terrible 
dust. He rides over to the house. The 
little girls and the plums. The soldiers 
bathe in a pond. "Cannon fodder." Ba- 
gration's letter to Arakche'ev 399 

6. Matter and form. Anna Pdvlovna's and 

He*lene's rival salons. Prince Vasfli's 
opinion of Kutiizov 403 

7. Napoleon orders an advance on Moscow. 

Napoleon's conversation with Lavrush- 
ka 405 

8. Prince Nicholas Bolkonski has a paralytic 

stroke and is taken to Bogucharovo. 
Princess Mary decides that they must 
move on to Moscow. Her last interview 
with her father. His affection for her. 
His death 406 

9. Character of the Bogucharovo peasantry 

and the baffling undercurrents in the 
life of the Russian people. The village 
Elder, Dron. Alpatych talks to him. The 
peasants decide not to supply horses or 
carts 410 

10. Mile Bourienne advises Princess Mary to 

appeal to the French for protection. 
Princess Mary speaks to Dron 412 

1 1 . Princess Mary addresses the peasants. They 



CONTENTS 



distrust her and refuse to leave Bogucha- 

rovo f 415 

i a. Princess Mary at night recalls her last sight 

of her father 4 1 6 

13. Nicholas and Ilyfn ride to Bogucharovo. 

They are asked by Alpatych to protect 
the princess. Nicholas makes her ac- 
quaintance and places himself at her 
service 417 

14. Nicholas calls the peasants to account and 

intimidates them. Carts and horses are 
provided for Princess Mary's departure. 
Princess Mary feels that she loves him 

419 

15. Prince Andrew goes to headquarters and 

meets Denfsov, who wants guerrilla 
troops to break the French line of 
communication. Kutuzov's reception of 
them. He transacts business 421 

16. The priest's wife offers Kutuzov "bread 

and salt." He has a further talk with 
Prince Andrew, who declines a place on 
the staff. Patience and Time. Prince An- 
drew's confidence in Kutuzov 424 

17. Moscow after the Emperor's visit. Rostop- 

chin's broadsheets. Julie's farewell wi- 
re" c. Forfeits for speaking French. Pierre 
hears of Princess Mary's arrival in Mos- 
cow 426 

18. Rostopchm's broadsheets. Pierre and the 

eldest princess. Leppich's balloon. A 
public flogging. Pierre leaves Moscow 
for the army 428 

19. Senselessness of the battle of Borodin6, 

and erroneousness of the historians' ac- 
counts of it. Where and how it was fought 

43 

20. Pierre encounters cavalry advancing and 

carts of wounded retiring. He talks to 
an army doctor. Pierre looks for the 
"position" occupied by the army. Peas- 
ant militia digging entrenchments 432 

21. Pierre ascends a knoll at G6rki, surveys 

the scene, and inquires as to the "posi- 
tion" occupied* A procession carrying 
the "Smolensk Mother of God." The 
reverence of the crowd and of Kutuzov 

434 

22. Boris meets Pierre. Dolokhov makes his 

way to Kutuzov. Kutuzov notices Pierre. 
D61okhov asks Pierre to be reconciled 

43 6 

23. Pierre rides to the left flank with Bennig- 

sen, who explains the "position" in a way 
Pierre does not understand and changes 
one of Kutiizov's dispositions 438 



xi 

24. Prince Andrew's reflections on life and 

death. Pierre comes to see him 439 

25. Tim6khin's opinion of Kutuzov. Prince 

Andrew on Barclay de Tolly. War and 
chess. The spirit of the army. Wolzogen 
and Clausewitz. "The war must be ex- 
tended widely." Pierre understands the 
importance of this war. "Not take pris- 
oners." What is war? Prince Andrew 
thinks of Natlsha 440 

26. De Beausset brings a portrait of the "King 

of Rome" to Napoleon. Napoleon's 
proclamation 444 

27. Napoleon's dispositions for the battle of 

Borodin6. They were not carried out 

445 

28. Napoleon's cold. Why the battle had to be 

fought 447 

29. Napoleon's talk to de Beausset and Rapp. 

The game begins 448 

30. Pierre views the battlefield from the knoll 

at Gorki 450 

31. Pierre at the Borodin6 bridge. Under fire. 

Goes to Ravski's Redoubt. His horse 
wounded under him. The Ravski Re- 
doubt. The young officer. Pierre is ac- 
cepted at the redoubt as one of the fam- 
ily. The flame of hidden fire in th men's 
souls. Shortage of ammunition. Pierre 
sees ammunition wagons blown up 451 

32. The redoubt captured by the French. 

Pierre's conflict with a French officer. 
The redoubt retaken by the Russian* 

455 

33. The course of the battle. Difficulty of dis- 

cerning what was going on. Things take 
their own course apart from the orders 
issued 456 

34. Reinforcements. Belliard appeals to Na- 

poleon. De Beausset proposes breakfast. 
Friant's division sent in support. The 
expected success not secured. Continu- 
ous and useless slaughter 457 

35. Kutuzov. His rebuke to Wolzogen. An or- 

der of the day for an attack tomorrow. 
The spirit of the army 459 

36. Prince Andrew with the reserve under fire. 

Hit by a bursting shell. Outside the 
dressing station 461 

37. The operating tent. Portion of Prince An- 

drew's thighbone extracted. Anatole's 
leg amputated. Prince Andrew pities 
him 464 

38. Napoleon is depressed. His mini and con- 

science darkened. His calculation that 
few Frenchmen perished in Russia 465 



xii 



CONTENTS 



39. Appearance of the field at the end of the 
battle. Doubts maturing in every soul. 
Only a little further effort needed to 
secure victory, but such effort impossi- 
ble. Could Napoleon have used his Old 
Guard? The Russians had gained a mor- 
al victory 467 

BOOK ELEVEN 

1. Continuity of motion. Achilles and the 

tortoise. The method of history; its 
explanation of events compared with 
explanations of the movement of a 
locomotive 469 

2. Summary of campaign before Boro- 

dino and explanation of Kutuzov's 
subsequent movements 470 

3-4. Kutuzov and his generals at Pokl6nny 
Hill. Council of War at Fill 472 

5. The author's reflections on the aban- 
donment of Moscow. Rostopchin's 
conduct and that of private individ- 
uals 475 

6-7. Helene in Petersburg. Conversion to 
I Catholicism and plans for remar- 

riage 476 

8-9. Pierre walks to Mozhdysk. His night 
lodging there. His dream, and his 
return to Moscow 480 

10-11. Pierre at Rostopchin's. The affair of 
Klyucharcv and Vercshchagin. Pierre 
leaves home secretly 482 

12-17. The Rost6vs: packing up and leaving 
Moscow. They allow wounded offi- 
cers to stay in their house and avail 
themselves of their carts to leave 
Moscow. Berg's wish to borrow a 
cart. Natasha when leaving Moscow 
sees and speaks to Pierre. Prince An- 
drew travels in their train of vehicles 

485 

18. Pierre at Bazd^ev's house. He wears a 

coachman's coat 496 

19. Napoleon surveys Moscow from Pok- 

16nny Hill. He awaits a deputation 
of les boyars 497 

20-23. Moscow compared to a queenless hive. 
The army's departure. Looting by 
Russian soldiers. The Moskvd bridge 
blocked, and cleared by Erm61ov. A 
brawl among workmen. Reading a 
Rostopchfn broadsheet to a crowd. 
Scene with the superintendent of 
police 499 

24-25. Rostopchfn. The killing of Vereshcha- 
gin. The released lunatics. Rostop- 



chfn's encounterwith Kutuzov at the 
' bridge 505 

26. The French enter Moscow. Shots from 
the Kremlin gate. The Fire of Mos- 
cow discussed 511 

27-29. Pierre: his plan to kill Napoleon. Baz- 
de*ev's drunken brother fires at Cap- 
tain Ramballe, who regards Pierre 
as a friend 513 

30-32. The Rost6vs at My tfshchi. Natasha sees 
Prince Andrew 521 

33-34. Pierre sets out to meet Napoleon. He 
saves a child, defends an Armenian 
girl from a French soldier, and is ar- 
rested as an incendiary 527 

BOOK TWELVE 

1-3. Anna PAvlovria's soiree. Talk of H- 
lene's illness. The Bishop's letter. 
Victory at Borodino reported. Death 
of Helene. News of abandonment of 
Moscow. Michaud's report 533 

4-8. Nicholas sent to Voronezh. An evening 
at the Governor's. Nicholas and 
Princess Mary. A letter from Sonya 

537 

9-13. Pierre's treatment as a prisoner. He is 
questioned by Davout. Shooting of 
prisoners. Platon Karataev 547 
14-16. Princess Mary goes to the Rost6vs' in 
Yaroslavl. Prince Andrew's last days 
and death 555 

BOOK THIRTEEN 
1-7. The cause of historical events. A sur- 
vey of movements of the Russian 
army after leaving Moscow. Napo- 
leon's letter to Kutuzov. The camp 
at Tarutino. Alexander's letters to 
Kutuzov. Ermolov and others absent 
when wanted. The battle postponed. 
Kutuzov's wrath. The action next 
day. Cossacks surprise Murat's army 
and capture prisoners, guns, and 
booty. Inactivity of the rest of the 
army 563 

8-10. Napoleon's measures. Proclamation in 
Moscow. Effects of pillage on French 
discipline 571 

11-14. Pierre: four weeks in captivity. Kara- 
taev and a French soldier. The French 
leave Moscow. The drum. Pierre's 
mental change; he recovers his grip 
on life. Exit of troops and prisoners. 
The road blocked. Pierre's reflec- 
tions 575 



CONTENTS 

15-19. The Russian army. Dokhtiirov. News 
of the French having left Moscow 
reaches Kutiizov at night. His emo- 13-81. 
tion. Cossacks nearly capture Napo- 
leon at Malo-Yarosldvets. He retreats 
by the Smolensk road. A third of his 
army melts away before reaching Vy- 
zma 582 



BOOK FOURTEEN 

1-2. National character of the war. A duel- 

ist who drops his rapier and seizes a 

cudgel. Guerrilla warfare. The spirit 

of the army 588 

3-11. The partisans or guerrillas. Denfsov, 

D61okhov, P(hya Rost6v, and Tik- 

hon. A French drummer boy. A visit 

to the enemy's camp. Attack on a 

French convoy. The death of Ptya 

59 

12-15. Pierre's journey among the prisoners. 

Karatjiev. His story of the merchant. 

His death. Pierre rescued 604 

16-18. The French retreat. Berthier's report 

to Napoleon. Their flight beyond 

Smolensk 609 

19. Why the French were not cut off by 

the Russians 611 



1-3. 



4-5. 



BOOK FIFTEEN 

TheRostovs. Natasha's grief. The news 
of Ptftya's death. Natdsha leaves with 
Princess Mary for Moscow 614 

Analysis of Kutiizov's movements 618 
6~g. Kutiizov at Krdsnoe; his speech to the 
army. Encampment for the night: 
soldier scenes. Ramballe's appear- 
ance with his orderly. The song of 
Henri Quatre. 621 

10-12. The crossing of the Berezina. Vflna. 



1-4. 



5-9- 



* xiii 

The Emperor Alexander. Kutiizov; 
his failing health 626 

Pierre. Illness and recovery at Orel. 
His new attitude to life and his fel- 
low men. His affairs. He goes to Mos- 
cow; the town's animation and rapid 
recovery. Pierre meets Natdsha at 
Princess Mary's. Love 631 

FIRST EPILOGUE 
Discussion of forces operating in his- 
tory. Chance and genius. The ideals 
of glory and grandeur. Alexander's 
renunciation of power. The purpose 
of a bee 645 

Death of old Count Rost6v. Nicholas 
in retirement. His mother. His meet- 
ing with Princess Mary. Their wed- 
ding; estate management in the coun- 
try; their family life. S6nya a sterile 
flower. Denfsov.' Nicholas' name day 

650 

10-14. Natdsha's and Pierre's family life. His 
return after a visit to Petersburg. The 
old countess in decay. Conversation 
about social tendencies, and indigna- 
tion at reactionary trend of the gov- 
ernment. Views of Pierre and Nich- 
olas 659 

15-16. The two married couples and their 
mutual relations. Natasha's jealousy. 
Young Nicholas Boik6nski's aspira- 
tions 669 

SECOND EPILOGUE 
1-12. A general discussion on the historians' 
study of human life, and on the diffi- 
culty of defining the forces that move 
nations. The problem of free will 
and necessity 675 



MAPS 

I. Battle of Austerlitz 697 

II. War of 1805 697 

III. Advance and Retreat of Napoleon, 1812 698 8c 699 

IV. Borodin6 698 
V. Moscow 699 



THE PRINCIPAL CHARACTERS ARRANGED 
IN FAMILY GROUPS 



THE BEZUKHOVS 

Count Cyril Bezukhov, a wealthy nobleman of Catherine the Great's time 
Pierre, his son, who, legitimized after his father's death, becomes Count 

Bezukhov //* central character of the novel. 
Princess Caliche, Pierre's cousin 

THE RosT6vs 

Count Ilyd Rost6v, a wealthy nobleman 

Countess Nataly Rost6va, his wife 

Count Nicholas Rostov, their elder son, who goes into the army as a cadet 

Count Peter (Pdtya) Rostov, their younger son 

Countess Ve"ra Rost6va, their elder daughter 

Countess Nataly (Natdsha) Rost6va, their younger daughter, the central 

female character 

S6nya, a poor niece of the Rostovs 
Lieutenant Alphonse Kdrlovich Berg, an officer who marries V&ra 

THE BoLK6NSKis 

Prince Nicholas Andre*evich Bolk6nski, a retired general 

Prince Andrew Bolk6nski, his son, a member of Kutuzov's staff 

Princess Mary Bolk6nskaya, his daughter 

Princess Elisabeth (Lise) Bolkonskaya, Prince Andrew's wife, "the most 

fascinating woman in Petersburg" 
Prince Nicholas (Koko) Andrd-evich Bolk6nski, Prince Andrew's son 

THE KURAGINS 

Prince Vasfli Kurdgin, an elderly nobleman 

Prince Hippolyte Kurdgin, his weak-minded elder son 

Prince Anatole Kurdgin, his profligate younger son 

Princess Hdlene Kunigina, his daughter, "the beautiful Helene" 

THE DRUBETSK6YS 

Princess Anna Mikhdylovna Drubetskdya, an impoverished noblewoman 
Prince Boris (B6ry) Drubetskoy, her son, who enters the army 
Julie Kardgina, an heiress t who later marries Boris 



XV 



DATES OF PRINCIPAL HISTORICAL EVENTS 



1805 



1807 



1812 



o. s. 
Oct. 11 

Oct. 23 
Oct. 24 
Oct. 28 
Oct. 30 

Nov. 4 
Nov. 4 
Noy. 19 
Nov. 20 



May 17 
June 12 
June 14 
July 13 
Aug. 4 
Aug. 5 
Aug. 7 

Aug. 8 
Aug. 10 
Aug. 17 

Aug. 17 
Aug. 24 
Aug. 26 
Sept. i 
Oct. 6 

C * ft 7 ' 
and 8 

Oct. 12 
Oct. 21 
Oct. 28- 
Nov. 2 
Nov. 4-8 
Nov. 9 
Nov. i4 
Nov. 23 
Dec. 6 



N. s. 
Oct. 23 

Nov. 4 
Nov. 5 
Nov. 9 
Nov. 11 
Nov. 16 
Nov. 16 
Dec. i 
Dec. 2 



Jan. 27 Feb. 8 
June 2 June 14 
June 13 June 25 



May 29 
June 24 
June 26 
July 25 
Aug. 16 
Aug. 17 
Aug. 19 

Aug. 20 
Aug. 22 
Aug. 29 

Aug. 29 
Sept. 5 
Sept. 7 
Sept. 13 
Oct. 18 



Kutuzov inspects regiment near Braunau. Lc 

malheureux Mack arrives 
The Russian army crosses the Enns 
Fight at Amstetten 

The Russian army crosses the Danube 
Defeats Mortier at Durrenstein 
Napoleon writes to Murat from Schonbrunn 
Battle of Schon Grabern 
The Council of War at Ostralitz 
Battle of Austerlitz 

Battle of Preussisch-Eylau 

Battle of Friedland 

The Emperors meet at Tilsit 

Napoleon leaves Dresden 

Napoleon crosses the Niemen and enters Russia 

Alexander sends Balashev to Napoleon 

The Pavlograd hussars in action at Ostr6vna 

Alpatych at Smolensk hears distant firing 

Bombardment at Smolensk 

Prince Nicholas Bolk6nski leaves Bald Hills for 

Bogucharovo 

Kutuzov appointed Commander in Chief 
Prince Andrew's column abreast of Bald Hills 
Kutuzov reaches Tsarevo-Zaymfshche and takes 

command of the army 
Nicholas Rost6v rides to Bogucharovo 
Battle of the Shevardino Redoubt 
Battle of Borodin6 

Kutuzov orders retreat through Moscow 
Battle of Tarutino 



Battle of Malo-Yaroslavets 
Cossacks harry the French at Vyazma 
t SmoMnik 



H 

and 20 

Oct. 24 
Nov. 2 
Nov. 9- 
Nov. 14 

Nov. i6-2oBattles at Krasnoe 
Nov. 21 Ney, with rearguard, reaches Orsh 
i6Nov. 26-28 Crossing of the Berezina 

Dec. 5 Napoleon abandons the army at Smorg6ni 
Dec. 18 He reaches Paris 



XVI 



Book One: 1805 



CHAPTER I 

WELL, PRINCE, so Genoa and Lucca are now 
just family estates of the Buonapartes. But I 
warn you, if you don't tell me that this means 
war, if you still try to defend the infamies and 
horrors perpetrated by that Antichrist I real- 
ly believe he is Antichrist I will have nothing 
more to do with you and you are no longer my 
friend, no longer my 'faithful slave,' as you 
call yourself! But how do you do? I see I have 
frightened you sit down and tell me all the 
news." 

It was in July, 1805, and the speaker was the 
well-known Anna Pdvlovna Sch^rer, maid of 
honor and favorite of the Empress Marya Fe- 
dorovna. With these words she greeted Prince 
Vasili Kurdgin, a man of high rank and impor- 
tance, who was the first to arrive at her recep- 
tion. Anna Pdvlovna had had a cough for some 
days. She was, as she said, suffering from la 
grippe; grippe being then a new word in St. 
Petersburg, used only by the elite. 

All her invitations without exception, writ- 
ten in French, and delivered by a scarlet-liver- 
ied footman that morning, ran as follows: 

"If you have nothing better to do, Count [or 
Prince], and if the prospect of spending an 
evening with a poor invalid is not too terrible, 
I shall be very charmed to see you tonight be- 
tween 7 and 10 Annette Sch^rer." 

"Heavens! what a virulent attack!" replied 
the prince, not in the least disconcerted by this 
reception. He had just entered, wearing an em- 
broidered court uniform, knee breeches, and 
shoes, and had stars on his breast and a serene 
expression on his flat face. He spoke in that 
refined French in which our grandfathers not 
only spoke but thought, and with the gentle, 
patronizing intonation natural to a man of 
importance who had grown old in society and 
at court. He went up to Anna Pavlovna, kissed 
her hand, presenting to her his bald, scented, 
and shining head, and complacently seated 
himself on the sofa. 

"First of all, dear friend, tell me how you 



are. Set your friend's mind at rest," said he 
without altering his tone, beneath the polite- 
ness and affected sympathy of which indiffer- 
ence and even irony could be discerned. 

"Can one be well while suffering morally? 
Can one be calm in tirrfes like these if one has 
any feeling?" said Anna Pdvlovna. "You are 
staying the whole evening, I hope?" 

"And the fete at the English ambassador's? 
Today is Wednesday. I must put in an appear- 
ance there," said the prince. "My daughter is 
coming for me to take me there." 

"I thought today's fete had been canceled. 
I confess all these festivities and fireworks are 
becoming wearisome." 

"If they had known that you wished it, the 
entertainment would have been put off," said 
the prince, who, like a wound-up clock, by 
force of habit said things he did not even wish 
to be believed. 

"Don't tease! Well, and what has been de- 
cided about Novosiltsev's dispatch? You know 
everything." 

"What can one say about it?" replied the 
prince in a cold, listless tone. "What has been 
decided? They have decided that Buonaparte 
has burnt his boats, and I believe that we are 
ready to burn ours." 

Prince Vastti always spoke languidly, like 
an actor repeating a stale part. Anna Pdvlovna 
Scherer on the contrary, despite her forty years, 
overflowed with animation and impulsiveness. 
To be an enthusiast had become her social vo- 
cation and, sometimes even when she did not 
feel like it, she became enthusiastic in order 
not to disappoint the expectations of those 
who knew her. The subdued smile which, 
though it did not suit her faded features, al- 
ways played round her lips expressed, as in a 
spoiled child, a continual consciousness of her 
charming defect, which she neither wished, nor 
could, nor considered it necessary, to correct. 

In the midst of a conversation on political 
matters Anna Pdvlovna burst out: 

"Oh, don't speak to me of Austria. Perhaps 



WAR AND PEACE 



I don't understand things, but Austria never 
has wished, and does not wish, for war. She is 
betraying us! Russia alone must save Europe. 
Our gracious sovereign recognizes his high vo- 
cation and will be true to it. That is the one 
thing I have faith in! Our good and wonder- 
ful sovereign has to perfonn the noblest role 
on earth, and he is so virtuous and noble that 
God will not forsake him. He will fulfill his 
vocation and crush the hydra of revolution, 
which has become more terrible than ever in 
the person of this murderer and villain! We 
alone must avenge the blood of the just one. 
. . . Whom, I ask you, can we rely on? . . . Eng- 
land with her commercial spirit will not and 
cannot understand the Emperor Alexander's 
loftiness of soul. She tias refused to evacuate 
Malta. She wanted to find, and still seeks, some 
secret motive in our actions. What answer did 
Novosiltsev get? None. The English have not 
understood and cannot understand the self- 
abnegation of our Emperor who wants noth- 
ing for himself, but only desires the good of 
mankind. And what have they promised? Noth- 
ing! And what little they have promised they 
will not perform! Prussia has always declared 
that Buonaparte is invincible and that all 
Europe is powerless before him. . . . And I 
don't believe a word that Hardenburg says, 
or Haugwitz either. This famous Prussian neu- 
trality is just a trap. I have faith only in God 
and the lofty destiny of our adored monarch. 
He will save Europe!" 

She suddenly paused, smiling at her own 
impetuosity. 

"I think," said the prince with a smile, "that 
if you had been sent instead of our dear 
Wintzingerode you would have captured the 
King of Prussia's consent by assault. You are 
so eloquent. Will you give me a cup of tea?" 

"In a moment. X propos"she added, becom- 
ing calm again, "I am expecting two very in- 
teresting men tonight, le Vicomte de Morte- 
mart, who is connected with the Montmoren- 
cys through the Rohans,oneof the best French 
families. He is one of the genuine dmigrh, the 
good ones. And also the Abbe* Morio. Do you 
know that profound thinker? He has been re- 
ceived by the Emperor. Had you heard?" 

"I shall be delighted to meet them," said the 
prince. "But tell me," he added with studied 
carelessness as if it had only just occurred to 
him, though the question he was about to ask 
was the chief motive of his visit, "is it true that 
the Dowager Empress wants Baron Funke to be 
appointed first secretary at Vienna? The baron 



by all accounts is a poor creature." 

Prince Vasfli wished to obtain this post for 
his son, but others were trying through the 
Dowager Empress Mdrya Fedorovna to secure 
it for the baron. 

Anna Pdvlovna almost closed her eyes to in- 
dicate that neither she nor anyone else had a 
right to criticize what the Empress desired or 
was pleased with. 

"Baron Funke has been recommended to the 
Dowager Empress by her sister," was all she 
said, in a dry and mournful tone. 

As she named the Empress, Anna Pdvlovna's 
face suddenly assumed an expression of pro- 
found and sincere devotion and respect min- 
gled with sadness, and thisoccurred every time 
she mentioned her illustrious patroness. She 
added that Her Majesty had deigned to show 
Baron Funke beaucoup d'estime, and again 
her face clouded over with sadness. 

The prince was silent and looked indiffer- 
ent. But, with the womanly and courtierlike 
quickness and tact habitual to her, Anna Pdv- 
lovna wished both to rebuke him (for daring 
to speak as he had done of a man recommended 
to the Empress) and at the same time to con- 
sole him, so she said: 

"Now about your family. Do you know that 
since your daughter came out everyone has 
been enraptured by her? They say she is amaz- 
ingly beautiful." 

The prince bowed to signify his respect and 
gratitude. 

"I often think," she continued after a short 
pause, drawing nearer to the prince and smil- 
ing amiably at him as if to show that political 
and social topics were ended and the time had 
come for intimate conversation "I often think 
how unfairly sometimes the joys of life are dis- 
tributed. Why has fate given you two such 
splendid children? I don't speak of Anatole, 
your youngest. I don't like him," she added in 
a tone admitting of no rejoinder and raising 
her eyebrows. "Two such charming children. 
And really you appreciate them less than any- 
one, and so you don't deserve to have them." 

And she smiled her ecstatic smile. 

"I can't help it," said the prince. "Lavater 
would have said I lack the bump of paternity." 

"Don't joke; I mean to have a serious talk 
with you. Do you know I am dissatisfied with 
your younger son? Between ourselves" (and 
her face assumed its melancholy expression), 
"he was mentioned at Her Majesty's and you 
were pitied. . . ." 

The prince answered nothing, but she 



BOOK ONE 



looked at him significantly, awaiting a reply. 
He frowned. 

"What would you have me do?" he said at 
last. "You know I did all a father could for 
their education, and they have both turned 
out fools. Hippolyte is at least a quiet fool, but 
Anatole is an active one. That is the only dif- 
ference between them." He said this smiling 
in a way more natural and animated than 
usual, so that the wrinkles round his mouth 
very clearly revealed something unexpectedly 
coarse and unpleasant. 

"And why are children born to such men as 
you? If you were not a father there would be 
nothing I could reproach you with," said Anna 
Pdvlovna, looking up pensively. 

"I am your faithful slave and to you alone I 
can confess that my children are the bane of 
my life. It is the cross I have to bear. That is 
how I explain it to myself. It can't be helped!" 

He said no more, but expressed his resigna- 
tion to cruel fate by a gesture. Anna Pdvlovna 
meditated. 

"Have you never thought of marrying your 
prodigal son Anatole?" she asked. "They say 
old maids have a mania for matchmaking, and 
though I don't feel that weakness in myself as 
yet, I know a little person who is very unhappy 
with her father. She is a relation of yours, 
Princess Mary Bolk6nskaya." 

Prince Vasili did not reply, though, with the 
quickness of memory and perception befitting 
a man of the world, he indicated by a move- 
ment of the head that he was considering this 
information. 

"Do you know," he said at last, evidently 
unable to check the sad current of his thoughts, 
"that Anatole is costing me forty thousand 
rubles a year? And," he went on after a pause, 
"what will it be in five years, if he goes on like 
this?" Presently he added: "That's what we 

fathers have to put up with Is this princess 

of yours rich?" 

"Her father is very rich and stingy. He lives 
in the country. He is the well-known Prince 
Bolk6nski who had to retire from the army un- 
der the late Emperor, and was nicknamed 'the 
King of Prussia.' He is very clever but eccen- 
tric, and a bore. The poor girl is very unhappy. 
She has a brother; I think you know him, he 
married Lise Meinen lately. He is an aide-de- 
camp of Kutiizov's and will be here tonight." 

"Listen, dear Annette," said the prince, sud- 
denly taking Anna Pdvlovna's hand and for 
some reason drawing it downwards. "Arrange 
that affair for me and I shall always be your 



most devoted slave slaje with an /, as a village 
elder of mine writes in his reports. She is rich 
and of good family and that's all I want." 

And with the familiarity and easy grace 
peculiar to him, he raised the maid of honor's 
hand to his lips, kissed it, and swung it to and 
fro as he lay back in his armchair, looking in 
another direction. 

"Attendee" said Anna Pdvlovna, reflecting, 
"I'll speak to Lise, young Bolk6nski's wife, this 
very evening, and perhaps the thing can be 
arranged. It shall be on your family's behalf 
that I'll start my apprenticeship as old maid." 

CHAPTER II 

ANNA PAVLOVNA'S drawing room was gradually 
filling. The highest Petersburg society was as- 
sembled there: people differing widely in age 
and character but alike in the social circle to 
which they belonged. Prince Vasili's daughter, 
the beautiful Hlne, came to take her father 
to the ambassador's entertainment; she wore a 
ball dress and her badge as maid of honor. The 
youthful little Princess Bolkonskaya, known 
as la femme la plus sSduisante de Pfaersbourg? 
was also there. She had been married during 
the previous winter, and being pregnant did 
not go to any large gatherings, but only to small 
receptions. Prince Vasfli's son, Hippolyte, had 
come with Mortemart, whom he introduced. 
The Abb6 Morio and many others had also 
come. 

To each new arrival Anna Pdvlovna safcl, 
"You have not yet seen my aunt," or "You do 
not know my aunt?" and very gravely con- 
ducted him or her to a little old lady, wearing 
large bows of ribbon in her cap, who had come 
sailing in from another room as soon as the 
guests began to arrive; and slowly turning her 
eyes from the visitor to her aunt, Anna Pdv- 
lovna mentioned each one's name and then 
left them. 

Each visitor performed the ceremony of 
greeting this old aunt whom not one of them 
knew, not one of them wanted to know, and 
not one of them cared about; Anna Pdvlovna 
observed these greetings with mournful and sol- 
emn interest and silent approval. The aunt 
spoke to each of them in the same words, about 
their health and her own, and the health of 
Her Majesty, "who, thank God, was better to- 
day." And each visitor, though politeness pre- 
vented his showing impatience, left the old 
woman with a sense of relief at having per- 
formed a vexatious duty and did not return to 

1 The most fascinating woman in Petersburg. 



WAR AND PEACE 



her the whole evening. 

The young Princess Bolk6nskaya had 
brought some work in a gold-embroidered vel- 
vet bag. Her pretty little upper lip, on which 
a delicate dark down was just perceptible, was 
too short for her teeth, but it lifted all the more 
sweetly, and was especially charming when she 
occasionally drew it down to meet the lower 
lip. As is always the case with a thoroughly at- 
tractive woman, her defectthe shortness of 
her upperlip and her half-open mouth seemed 
to be her own special and peculiar form of 
beauty. Everyone brightened at the sight of 
this pretty young woman, so soon to become 
a mother, so full of life and health, and carry- 
ing her burden so lightly. Old men and dull 
dispirited young ones who looked at her, after 
being in her company and talking to her a 
litttle while, felt as if they too were becoming, 
like her, full of life and health. All who talked 
to her, and at each word saw her bright smile 
and the constant gleam of her white teeth, 
thought that they were in a specially amiable 
mood that day. 

The little princess went round the table 
with quick, short, swaying steps, her workbag 
on her arm, and gaily spreading out her dress 
sat down on a sofa near the silver samovar, as 
if all she was doing was a pleasure to herself 
and to all around her. "I have brought my 
work," said she in French, displaying her bag 
and addressing all present. "Mind, Annette, 
I hope you have not played a wicked trick on 
me," she added, turning to her hostess. "You 
wrote that it was to be quite a small reception, 
and just see how badly I am dressed." And she 
spread out her arms to show her short-waisted, 
lace-trimmed, dainty gray dress, girdled with 
a broad ribbon just below the breast. 

"Soyez tranquille, Lise, you will always be 
prettier than anyone else," replied Anna Pdv- 
lovna. 

"You know/' said the princess in the same 
tone of voice and still in French, turning to a 
general, "my husband is deserting me? He is 
going to get himself killed. Tell me what this 
wretched war is for?" she added, addressing 
Prince Vasfli, and without waiting for an an- 
swer she turned to speak to his daughter, the 
beautiful Hlne. 

"What a delightful woman this little prin- 
cess isl" said Prince Vasili to Anna Pdvlovna. 

One of the next arrivals was a stout, heavily 
built young man with close-cropped hair, spec- 
tacles, the light-colored breeches fashionable 
at that time, a very high ruffle, and a brown 



dress coat. This stout young man was an illegit- 
imate son^of Count Bezukhov, a well-known 
grandee of Catherine's time who now lay dy- 
ing in Moscow. The young man had not yet 
entered either the military or civil service, as 
he had only just returned from abroad where 
he had been educated, and this was his first ap- 
pearance in society. Anna Pdvlovna greeted 
him with the nod she accorded to the lowest 
hierarchy in her drawing room. But in spite of 
this lowest-grade greeting, a look of anxiety 
and fear, as at the sight of something too large 
and unsuited to the place, came over her face 
when she saw Pierre enter. Though he was cer- 
tainly rather bigger than the other men in the 
room, her anxiety could only have reference 
to the clever though shy, but observant and 
natural, expression which distinguished him 
from everyone else in that drawing room. 

"It is very good of you, Monsieur Pierre, to 
come and visit a poor invalid," said Anna Pdv- 
lovna, exchanging an alarmed glance with her 
aunt as she conducted him to her. 

Pierre murmured something unintelligible, 
and continued to look round as if in search of 
something. On his way to the aunt he bowed 
to the little princess with a pleased smile, as to 
an intimate acquaintance. 

Anna Pdvlovna's alarm was justified, for 
Pierre turned away from the aunt without wait- 
ing to hear her speech about Her Majesty's 
health. Anna Pdvlovna in dismay detained 
him with the words: "Do you know the Abbe* 
Morio? He is a most interesting man." 

"Yes, I have heard of his scheme for perpet- 
ual peace, and it is very interesting but hardly 
feasible." 

"You think so?" rejoined Anna Pdvlovna in 
order to say something and get away to attend 
to her duties as hostess. But Pierre now com- 
mitted a reverse act of impoliteness. First he 
had left a lady before she had finished speak- 
ing to him, and now he continued to speak to 
another who wished to getaway. With his head 
bent, and his big feet spread apart, he began 
explaining his reasons for thinking the abbess 
plan chimerical. 

"We will talk of it later," said Anna Pdv- 
lovna with a smile. 

And having got rid of this young man who 
did not know how to behave, she resumed her 
duties as hostess and continued to listen and 
watch, ready to help at any point where the 
conversation might happen to flag. As the fore- 
man of a spinning mill, when he has set the 
hands to work, goes round and notices here a 



BOOK ONE 



spindle that has stopped or there one that 
creaks or makes more noise than it should, and 
hastens to check the machine or set it in proper 
motion, so Anna Pavlovna moved about her 
drawing room, approaching now a silent, now 
a too-noisy group, and by a word or slight re- 
arrangement kept the conversational machine 
in steady, proper, and regular motion. But 
amid these cares her anxiety about Pierre was 
evident. She kept an anxious watch on him 
when he approached the group round Morte- 
mart to listen to what was being said there, and 
again when he passed to another group whose 
center was the abbe*. 

Pierre had been educated abroad, and this 
reception at Anna Pavlovna's was the first he 
had attended in Russia. He knew that all the 
intellectual lights of Petersburg were gathered 
there and, like a child in a toyshop, did not 
know which way to look, afraid of missing any 
clever conversation that was to be heard. See- 
ing the self-confident and refined expression 
on the faces of those present he was always ex- 
pecting to hear something very profound. At 
last he came up to Morio. Here the conversa- 
tion seemed interesting and he stood waiting 
for an opportunity to express his own views, 
as young people are fond of doing. 

CHAPTER III 

ANNA PAVLOVNA'S reception was in full swing. 
The spindles hummed steadily and ceaselessly 
on all sides. With the exception of the aunt, 
beside whom sat only one elderly lady, who 
with her thin careworn face was rather out of 
place in this brilliant society, the whole com- 
pany had settled into three groups. One, chiefly 
masculine, had formed round the abbe". An- 
other, of young people, was grouped round 
the beautiful Princess Hlne, Prince Vasfli's 
daughter, and the little Princess Bolk6nskaya, 
very pretty and rosy, though rather too plump 
for her age. The third group was gathered 
round Mortemart and Anna Pavlovna. 

The vicomte was a nice-looking young man 
with soft features and polished manners, who 
evidently considered himself a celebrity but 
out of politeness modestly placed himself at 
the disposal of the circle in which he found 
himself. Anna Pdvlovna was obviously serving 
him up as a treat to her guests. As a clever 
maitre d'hotel serves up as a specially choice 
delicacy a piece of meat that no one who had 
seen it in the kitchen would have cared to eat, 
so Anna Pavlovna served up to her guests, first 
the vicomte and then the abbe*, as peculiarly 



choice morsels. The group about Mortemart 
immediately began discussing the murder of the 
Due d'Enghien. The vicomte said that the Due 
d'Enghien had perished by his own magna- 
nimity, and that there were particular reasons 
for Buonaparte's hatred of him. 

"Ah, yes! Do tell us all about it, Vicomte," 
said Anna Pdvlovna, with a pleasant feeling 
that there was something a la Louis XV in the 
sound of that sentence: "Contez nous gela, 
Vicomte." 

The vicomte bowed and smiled courteously 
in token of his willingness to comply. Anna 
Pavlovna arranged a group round him, invit- 
ing everyone to listen to his tale. 

"The vicomte knew the due personally," 
whispered Anna Pdvlovna to one of the guests. 
"The vicomte is a wonderful raconteur," said 
she to another. "How evidently he belongs to 
the best society," said she to a third; and the 
vicomte was served up to the company in the 
choicest and most advantageous style, like a 
well-garnished joint of roast beef on a hot 
dish. 

The vicomte wished to begin his story and 
gave a subtle smile. 

"Come over here, Hlne, dear," said Anna 
Pvlovna to the beautiful young princess who 
was sitting some way off, the center of another 
group. 

The princess smiled. She rose with the same 
unchanging smile with which she had first en- 
tered the room the smile of a perfectly beauti- 
ful woman. With a slight rustle of her white 
dress trimmed with moss and ivy, with a gleam 
of white shoulders, glossy hair, and sparkling 
diamonds, she passed between the men who 
made way for her, not looking at any of them 
but smiling on all, as if graciously allowing 
each the privilege of admiring her beautiful 
figure and shapely shoulders, back, and bosom 
which in the fashion of those days were very 
much exposed and she seemed to bring the 
glamour of a ballroom with her as she moved 
toward Anna Pavlovna. Hlene was so lovely 
that not only did she not show any trace of 
coquetry, but on the contrary she even appeared 
shy of her unquestionable and all too victori- 
ous beauty. She seemed to wish, but to be un- 
able, to diminish its effect. 

"How lovely!" said everyone who saw her; 
and the vicomte lifted his shoulders and 
dropped his eyes as if startled by something ex- 
traordinary when she took her seat opposite and 
beamed upon him also with her unchanging 
smile. 



6 



WAR AND PEACE 



"Madame, I doubt my ability before such 
an audience," said he, smilingly inclining his 
head. 

The princess rested her bare round arm on 
a little table and considered a reply unneces- 
sary. She smilingly waited. All the time the 
story was being told she sat upright, glancing 
now at her beautiful round arm, altered in 
shape by its pressure on the table, now at her 
still more beautiful bosom, on which she read- 
justed a diamond necklace. From time to time 
she smoothed the folds of her dress, and when- 
ever the story produced an effect she glanced 
at Anna Pavlovna, at once adopted just the 
expression she saw on the maid of honor's face, 
and again relapsed into her radiant smile. 

The little princess had also left the tea table 
and followed Helne. 

"Wait a moment, I'll get my work. . . . Now 
then, what are you thinking of?" she went on, 
turning to Prince Hippolyte. "Fetch me my 
workbag." 

There was a general movement as the prin- 
cess, smiling and talking merrily to everyone 
at once, sat down and gaily arranged herself in 
her seat. 

"Now I am all right," she said, and asking 
the vicomte to begin, she took up her work. 

Prince Hippolyte, having brought the work- 
bag, joined the circle and moving a chair close 
to hers seated himself beside her. 

Le charmant Hippolyte was surprising by 
his extraordinary resemblance to his beautiful 
sister, but yet more by the fact that in spite of 
this resemblance he was exceedingly ugly. His 
features were like his sister's, but while in her 
case everything was lit up by a joyous, self- 
satisfied, youthful, and constant smile of ani- 
mation, and by the wonderful classic beauty 
of her figure, his face on the contrary was 
dulled by imbecility and a constant expression 
of sullen self-confidence, while his body was 
thin and weak. His eyes, nose, and mouth all 
seemed puckered into a vacant, wearied gri- 
mace, and his arms and legs always fell into 
unnatural positions. 

"It's not going to be a ghost story?" said he, 
sitting down beside the princess and hastily 
adjusting his lorgnette, as if without this in- 
strument he could not begin to speak. 

"Why no, my dear fellow," said the aston- 
ished narrator, shrugging his shoulders. 

"Because I hate ghost stones," said Prince 
Hippolyte in a tone which showed that he only 
understood die meaning of his words after he 
had uttered them. 



He spoke with such self-confidence that his 
hearers ould not be sure whether what he said 
was very witty or very stupid. He was dressed 
in a dark-green dress coat, knee breeches of 
the color of cuisse de nymphe effrayJe, as he 
called it, shoes, and silk stockings. 

The vicomte told his tale very neatly. It was 
an anecdote, then current, to the effect that 
the Due d'Enghien had gone secretly to Paris 
to visit Mademoiselle George; thatat her house 
he came upon Bonaparte, who also enjoyed 
the famous actress' favors, and that in his pres- 
ence Napoleon happened to fall into one of 
the fainting fits to which he was subject, and 
was thus at the due's mercy. The latter spared 
him, and this magnanimity Bonaparte subse- 
quently repaid by death. 

The story was very pretty and interesting, 
especially at the point where the rivals sud- 
denly recognized one another; and the ladies 
looked agitated. 

"Charming!" said Anna PAvlovna with an in- 
quiring glance at the little princess. 

"Charming!" whispered the little princess, 
sticking the needle into her work as if to testify 
that the interest and fascination of the story 
prevented her from going on with it. 

The vicomte appreciated this silent praise 
and smiling gratefully prepared to continue, 
but just then Anna Pavlovna, who had kept a 
watchful eye on the young man who so alarmed 
her, noticed that he was talking too loudly 
and vehemently with the abbe", so she hurried 
to the rescue. Pierre had managed to start a 
conversation with the abb about the balance 
of power, and the latter, evidently interested 
by the young man's simple-minded eagerness, 
was explaining his pet theory. Both were talk- 
ing and listening too eagerly and too naturally, 
which was why Anna Pavlovna disapproved. 

"The means are . . . the balance of power in 
Europe and the rights of the people," the abbe* 
was saying. "It is only necessary for one power- 
ful nation like Russia barbaric as she is said 
to be to place herself disinterestedly at the 
head of an alliance having for its object the 
mai n tenance of the balance of power of Europe, 
and it would save the world!" 

"But how are you to get that balance?" Pierre 
was beginning. 

At that moment Anna Pdvlovna came up and, 
looking severely at Pierre, asked the Italian 
how he stood the Russian climate. The Italian's 
face instantly changed and assumed an offen- 
sively affected, sugary expression, evidently 
habitual to him when conversing with women. 



BOOK 

"I am so enchanted by the brilliancy of the 
wit and culture of the society, more especially 
of the feminine society, in which I have had 
the honor of being received, that I have not 
yet had time to think of the climate," said he. 

Not letting the abbe" and Pierre escape, Anna 
Pdvlovna, the more conveniently to keep them 
under observation, brought them into the 
larger circle. 

CHAPTER IV 

JUST THEN another visitor entered the drawing 
room: Prince Andrew Bolk6nski, the little 
princess' husband. He was a very handsome 
young man, of medium height, with firm, clear- 
cut features. Everything about him, from his 
weary, bored expression to his quiet, measured 
step, offered a most striking contrast to his 
lively little wife. It was evident that he not 
only knew everyone in the drawing room, but 
had found them to be so tiresome that it 
wearied him to look at or listen to them. And 
among all these faces that he found so tedious, 
none seemed to bore him so much as that of 
his pretty wife. He turned away from her with 
a grimace that distorted his handsome face, 
kissed Anna Pdvlovna's hand, and screwing 
up his eyes scanned the whole company. 

"You are off to the war, Prince?" said Anna 
Pdvlovna. 

"General Kutuzov," said Bolk6nski, speak- 
ing French and stressing the last syllable of the 
general's name like a Frenchman, "has been 
pleased to take me as an aide-de-camp. . . ." 

"And Lise, your wile?" 

"She will go to the country." 

"Are you not ashamed to deprive us of your 
charming wife?" 

"Andre," said his wife, addressing her hus- 
band in the same coquettish manner in which 
she spoke to other men, "the vicomte has been 
telling us such a tale about Mademoiselle 
George and Buonaparte!" 

Prince Andrew screwed up his eyes and 
turned away. Pierre, who from the moment 
Prince Andrew entered the room had watched 
him with glad, affectionate eyes, now came up 
and took his arm. Before he looked round 
Prince Andrew frowned again, expressing his 
annoyance with whoever was touching his arm, 
but when he saw Pierre's beaming face he gave 
him an unexpectedly kind and pleasant smile. 

"There now! ... So you, too, are in the great 
world?" said he to Pierre. 

"I knew you would be here," replied Pierre. 
"I will come to supper with you. May I?" he 



ONE 7 

added in a low voice so as not to disturb the 
vicomte who was continuing his story. 

"No, impossible 1" said Prince Andrew, 
laughing and pressing Pierre's hand to show 
that there was no need to ask the question. He 
wished to say something more, but at that mo- 
ment Prince Vastti and his daughter got up to 
go and the two young men rose to let them 
pass. 

"You must excuse me, dear Vicomte," said 
Prince Vasili to the Frenchman, holding him 
down by the sleeve in a friendly way to prevent 
his rising. "This unfortunate fete at the ambas- 
sador's deprives me of a pleasure, and obliges 
me to interrupt you. I am very sorry to leave 
your enchanting party," said he, turning to 
Anna Pdvlovna. 

His daughter, Princess He*lene, passed be- 
tween the chairs, lightly holding up the folds 
of her dress, and the smile shone still more 
radiantly on her beautiful face. Pierre gazed 
at her with rapturous, almost frightened, eyes 
as she passed him. 

"Very lovely," said Prince Andrew. 

"Very," said Pierre. 

In passing, Prince Vasili seized Pierre's hand 
and said to Anna Pdvlovna: "Educate this bear 
for me! He has been staying with me a whole 
month and this is the first time I have seen 
him in society. Nothing is so necessary for a 
young man as the society of clever women." 

ANNA PAVLOVNA smiled and promised to take 
Pierre in hand. She knew his father to be 
a connection of Prince Vasili's. The elderly 
lady who had been sitting with the old aunt 
rose hurriedly and overtook Prince Vasfli in 
the anteroom. All the affectation of interest 
she had assumed had left her kindly and tear- 
worn face and it now expressed only anxiety 
and fear. 

"How about my son Borfs, Prince?" said 
she, hurrying after him into the anteroom. "1 
can't remain any longer in Petersburg. Tell 
me what news I may take back to my poor 
boy." 

Although Prince Vasili listened reluctantly 
and not very politely to the elderly lady, even 
betraying some impatience, she gave him an 
ingratiating and appealing smile, and took his 
hand that he might not go away. 

"What would it cost you to say a word to the 
Emperor, and then he would be transferred to 
the Guards at once?" said she. 

"Believe me, Princess, I am ready to do all 
I can," answered Prince Vasili, "but it is dif- 



8 



WAR AND PEACE 



ficult for me to ask the Emperor. I should ad- 
vise you to appeal to Rumydntsev through 
Prince Golftsyn. That would be the best way." 

The elderly lady was a Princess Drubet- 
skdya, belonging to one of the best families in 
Russia, but she was poor, and having long been 
out of society had lost her former influential 
connections. She had now come to Petersburg 
to procure an appointment in the Guards for 
her only son. It was, in fact, solely to meet 
Prince Vasfli that she had obtained an invita- 
tion to Anna Pdvlovna's reception and had sat 
listening to the vicomte's story. Prince Vasfli's 
words frightened her, an embittered look 
clouded her once handsome face, but only for 
a moment; then she smiled again and clutched 
Prince Vasili's arm more tightly. 

"Listen to me, Prince," said she. "I have 
never yet asked you for anything and I never 
will again, nor have I ever reminded you of 
my father's friendship for you; but now I en- 
treat you for God's sake to do this for my son 
and I shall always regard you as a benefac- 
tor," she added hurriedly. "No, don't be angry, 
but promise! I have asked Golitsyn and he has 
refused. Be the kindhearted man you always 
were," she said, trying to smile though tears 
were in her eyes. 

"Papa, we shall be late," said Princess 
Hel&ne, turning her beautiful head and look- 
ing over her classically molded shoulder as 
she stood waiting by the door. 

Influence in society, however, is capital which 
has to be economized if it is to last. Prince 
Vasfli knew this, and having once realized 
that if he asked on behalf of all who begged 
of him, he would soon be unable to ask for 
himself, he became chary of using his influ- 
ence. But in Princess Drubetskdya's case he 
felt, after her second appeal, something like 
qualms of conscience. She had reminded him 
of what was quite true; he had been indebted to 
her father for the first steps in his career. More- 
over, he could see by her manners that she was 
one of those womenmostly mothers who, 
having once made up their minds, will not rest 
until they have gained their end, and are pre- 
pared if necessary to go on insisting day after 
day and hour after hour, and even to make 
scenes. This last consideration moved him. 

"My dear Anna Mikhdylovna," said he with 
his usual familiarity and weariness of tone, "it 
is almost impossible for me to do what you ask; 
but to prove my devotion to you and how I re- 
spect your father's memory, I will do the im- 
possibleyour son shall be transferred to the 



Guards. Here is my hand on it. Are you satis- 
fied?" * 

"My dear benefactor! This is what I ex- 
pected from you I knew your kindness!" He 
turned to go. 

"Wait just a word! When he has been trans- 
ferred to the Guards . . ." she faltered. "You 
are on good terms with Michael Ilari6novich 
Kuttizov . . . recommend Boris to him as adju- 
tant! Then I shall be at rest, and then . . ." 

Prince Vasili smiled. 

"No, I won't promise that. You don't know 
how Kutiizov is pestered since his appoint- 
ment as Commander in Chief. He told me 
himself that all the Moscow ladies have con- 
spired to give him all their sons as adjutants." 

"No, but do promise! I won't let you go! My 
dear benefactor . . ." 

"Papa," said his beautiful daughter in the 
same tone as before, "we shall be late." 

"Well, au revoir! Good-by! You hear her?" 

"Then tomorrow you will speak to the Em- 
peror?" 

"Certainly; but about Kutiizov, I don't 
promise." 

"Do promise, do promise, Vasfli!" cried 
Anna Mikhdylovna as he went, with the smile 
of a coquettish girl, which at one time prob- 
ably came naturally to her, but was now very 
ill-suited to her careworn face. 

Apparently she had forgotten her age and 
by force of habit employed all the old fem- 
inine arts. But as soon as the prince had gone 
her face resumed its former cold, artificial ex- 
pression. She returned to the group where the 
vicomte was still talking, and again pretended 
to listen, while waiting till it would be time 
to leave. Her task was accomplished. 

CHAPTER V 

"AND what do you think of this latest com- 
edy, the coronation at Milan?" asked Anna 
Pavlovna, "and of the comedy of the people 
of Genoa and Lucca laying their petitions 
before Monsieur Buonaparte, and Monsieur 
Buonaparte sitting on a throne and granting 
the petitions of the nations? Adorable! It is 
enough to make one's head whirl! It is as if 
the whole world had gone crazy." 

Prince Andrew looked Anna Pdvlovna 
straight in the face with a sarcastic smile. 

" 'Dieu me la donne, gare a qui la touched J 
They say he was very fine when he said that," 
he remarked, repeating the words in Italian: 

1 God has given it to me, let him who touches it 
beware) 



BOOK 

" 'Dio mi rha dato. Guai a chi la tocchi!' " 

"I hope this will prove the last cft*op that 
will make the glass run over," Anna Pavlovna 
continued. "The sovereigns will not be able to 
endure this man who is a menace to every- 
thing." 

"The sovereigns? I do not speak of Russia," 
said the vicomte, polite but hopeless: "The 
sovereigns, madame . . . What have they done 
for Louis XVII, for the Queen, or for Madame 
Elizabeth? Nothing!" and he became more an- 
imated. "And believe me, they are reaping the 
reward of their betrayal of the Bourbon cause. 
The sovereigns! Why, they are sending am- 
bassadors to compliment the usurper." 

And sighing disdainfully, he again changed 
his position. 

Prince Hippolyte, who had been gazing at 
the vicomte for some time through his lor- 
gnette, suddenly turned completely round to- 
ward the little princess, and having asked for 
a needle began tracing the Conde* coat of arms 
on the table. He explained this to her with as 
much gravity as if she had asked him to do it. 

"Baton de gueules, engrele de gueules d' 
azurmaison Condd," said he. 

The princess listened, smiling. 

"If Buonaparte remains on the throne of 
France a year longer," the vicomte continued, 
with the air of a man who, in a matter with 
which he is better acquainted than anyone else, 
does not listen to others but follows the cur- 
rent of his own thoughts, "things will have 
gone too far. By intrigues, violence, exile, and 
executions,French society I mean good French 
society will have been forever destroyed, and 
then . . ." 

He shrugged his shoulders and spread out 
his hands. JPierre wished to make a remark, for 
the conversation interested him, but Anna 
Pdvlovna, who had him under observation, in- 
terrupted: 

"The Emperor Alexander," said she, with 
the melancholy which always accompanied any 
reference of hers to the Imperial family, "has 
declared that he will leave it to the French 
people themselves to choose their own form 
of government; and I believe that once free 
from the usurper, the whole nation will cer- 
tainly throw itself into the arms of its rightful 
king," she concluded, trying to be amiable to 
the royalist emigrant. 

. "That is doubtful," said Prince Andrew. 
"Monsieur le Vicomte quite rightly supposes 
that matters have already gone too far. I think 
it will be difficult to return to the old regime." 



ONE 9 

"From what I have heard," said Pierre, 
blushing and breaking into the conversation, 
"almost all the aristocracy has already gone 
over to Bonaparte's side." 

"It is the Buonapartists who say that," re- 
plied the vicomte without looking at Pierre. 
"At the present time it is difficult to know the 
real state of French public opinion." 

"Bonaparte has said so," remarked Prince 
Andrew with a sarcastic smile. 

It was evident that he did not like the vi- 
comte and was aiming his remarks at him, 
though without looking at him. 

" 'I showed them the path to glory, but they 
did not follow it,' " Prince Andrew continued 
after a short silence, again quoting Napoleon's 
words. " 'I opened my antechambers and they 
crowded in.' I do not know how far he was 
justified in saying so." 

"Not in the least," replied the vicomte. "Aft- 
er the murder of the due even the most par- 
tial ceased to regard him as a hero. If to some 
people," he went on, turning to Anna Pav- 
lovna, "he ever was a hero, after the murder 
of the due there was one martyr more in heav- 
en and one hero less on earth." 

Before Anna Pdvlovna and the others had 
time to smile their appreciation of the vi- 
comte's epigram, Pierre again broke into the 
conversation, and though Anna Pdvlovna felt 
sure he would say something inappropriate, 
she was unable to stop him. 

"The execution of the Due d'Enghien," de- 
clared Monsieur Pierre, "was a political neces- 
sity, and it seems to me that Napoleon showed 
greatness of soul by not fearing to take on him- 
self the whole responsibility of that deed." 

"Dieu! Mon Dieu!" muttered Anna Pav- 
lovna in a terrified whisper. 

"What, Monsieur Pierre . . . Do you con- 
sider that assassination shows greatness of 
soul?" said the little princess, smiling and 
drawing her work nearer to her. 

"Oh! Oh!" exclaimed several voices. 

"Capital!" said Prince Hippolyte in Eng- 
lish, and began slapping his knee with the 
palm of his hand. 

The vicomte merely shrugged his shoulders. 
Pierre looked solemnly at his audience over 
his spectacles and continued. 

"I say so," he continued desperately, "be- 
cause the Bourbons fled from the Revolution 
leaving the people to anarchy, and Napoleon 
alone understood the Revolution and quelled 
it, and so for the general good, he could not 
stop short for the sake of one man's life." 



1O 

"Won't you come over to the other table?" 
suggested Anna Pvlovna, 

But Pierre continued his speech without 
heeding her. 

"No," cried he, becoming more and more 
eager, "Napoleon is great because he rose su- 
perior to the Revolution, suppressed its a- 
buses, preserved all that was good in itequal- 
ity of citizenship and freedom of speech and 
of the press and only for that reason did he 
obtain power." 

"Yes, if having obtained power, without a- 
vailing himself of it to commit murder he had 
restored it to the rightful king, I should have 
called him a great man," remarked the vi- 
comte. 

"He could not do that. The people only 
gave him power that he might rid them of the 
Bourbons and because they saw that he was a 
great man. The Revolution was a grand thing!" 
continued Monsieur Pierre, betraying by this 
desperate and provocative proposition his ex- 
treme youth and his wish to express all that 
was in his mind. 

"What? Revolution and regicide a grand 
thing? . . . Well, after that . . . But won't you 
come to this other table?" repeated Anna Pdv- 
lovna. 

"Rousseau's Contrat social," said the vi- 
comte with a tolerant smile. 

"I am not speaking of regicide, I am speak- 
ing about ideas." 

"Yes: ideas of robbery, murder, and regi- 
cide," again interjected an ironical voice. 

"Those were extremes, no doubt, but they 
are not what is most important. What is im- 
portant are the rights of man, emancipation 
from prejudices, and equality of citizenship, 
and all these ideas Napoleon has retained in 
full force." 

"Liberty and equality," said the vicomte 
contemptuously, as if at last deciding seriously 
to prove to this youth how foolish his words 
were, "high-sounding words which have long 
been discredited. Who does not love liberty 
and equality? Even our Saviour preached lib- 
erty and equality. Have people since the Rev- 
olution become happier? On the contrary. We 
wanted liberty, but Buonaparte has destroyed 
it." 

Prince Andrew kept looking with an a- 
mused smile from Pierre to the vicomte and 
from the vicomte to their hostess. In the first 
moment of Pierre's outburst Anna Pdvlovna, 
despite her social experience, was horror- 
struck. But when she saw that Pierre's sacri- 



WAR AND PEACE 



legious words had not exasperated the vi- 
comte, ahd had convinced herself that it was 
impossible to stop him, she rallied her forces 
and joined the vicomte in a vigorous attack on 
the orator. 

"But, my dear Monsieur Pierre," said she, 
"how do you explain the fact of a great man 
executing a due or even an ordinary man 
who is innocent and untried?" 

"I should like," said the vicomte, "to ask 
how monsieur explains the iSthBrumaire; was 
not that an imposture? It was a swindle, and 
not at all like the conduct of a great man!" 

"And the prisoners he killed in Africa?That 
was horrible!" said the little princess, shrug- 
ging her shoulders. 

"He's a low fellow, say what you will," re- 
marked Prince Hippolyte. 

Pierre, not knowing whom to answer, looked 
at them all and smiled. His smile was unlike 
the half-smile of other people. When he smiled, 
his grave, even rather gloomy, look was instan- 
taneously replaced by another a childlike, 
kindly, even rather silly look, which seemed to 
ask forgiveness. 

The vicomte who was meeting him for the 
first time saw clearly that this young Jacobin 
was not so terrible as his words suggested. All 
were silent. 

"How do you expect him to answer you all 
at once?" said Prince Andrew. "Besides, in the 
actions of a statesman one has to distinguish 
between his acts as a private person, as a gen- 
eral, and as an emperor. So it seems to me." 

"Yes, yes, of course!" Pierre chimed in, 
pleased at the arrival of this reinforcement. 

"One must admit," continued Prince An- 
drew, "that Napoleon as a man was great on 
the bridge of Arcola, and in the hospital at 
Jaffa where he gave his hand to the plague- 
stricken; but . . . but there are other acts which 
it is difficult to justify." 

Prince Andrew, who had evidently wished 
to tone down the awkwardness of Pierre's re- 
marks, rose and made a sign to his wife that it 
was time to go. 

Suddenly Prince Hippolyte started up mak- 
ing signs to everyone to attend, and asking 
them all to be seated began: 

"I was told a charming Moscow story today 
and must treat you to it. Excuse me, Vicomte 
I must tell it in Russian or the point will be 
lost. . . ." And Prince Hippolyte began to tell 
his story in sucli Russian as a Frenchman 
would speak after spending about a year in 



BOOK ONE 



Russia. Everyone waited, so emphatically and 
eagerly did he demand their attention to his 
story. 

"There is in Moscow a lady, une dame, and 
she is very stingy. She must have two footmen 
behind her carriage, and very big ones. That 
was her taste. And she had a lady's maid, also 
big. She said . . ." 

Here Prince Hippolyte paused, evidently 
collecting his ideas with difficulty. 

"She said ... Oh yes! She said, 'Girl,' to the 
maid, 'put on a livery, get up behind the car- 
riage, and come with me while I make some 
calls/ " 

Here Prince Hippolyte spluttered andburst 
out laughing long before his audience, which 
produced an effect unfavorable to the narra- 
tor. Several persons, among them the elderly 
lady and Anna Pavlovna, did however smile. 

"She went. Suddenly there was a great wind. 
The girl lost her hat and her long hair came 
down. . . ." Here he could contain himself no 
longer and went on, between gasps of laugh- 
ter: "And the whole world knew. . . ." 

And so the anecdote ended. Though it was 
unintelligible why he had told it, or why it 
had to be told in Russian, still Anna Pdvlovna 
and the others appreciated Prince Hippolyte's 
social tact in so agreeably ending Pierre's un- 
pleasant and unamiable outburst. After the 
anecdote the conversation broke up into in- 
significant small talk about the last and next 
balls, about theatricals, and who would meet 
whom, and when and where. 

CHAPTER VI 

HAVING THANKED Anna Pavlovna for her 
'charming soiree, the guests began to take their 
leave. 

Pierre was ungainly. Stout, about the aver- 
age height, broad, with huge red hands; he did 
not know, as the saying is, how to enter a draw- 
ing room and still less how to leave one; that 
is, how to say something particularly agreeable 
before going away. Besides this he was absent- 
minded. When he rose to go, he took up in- 
stead of his own, the general's three-cornered 
hat, and held it, pulling at the plume, till the 
general asked him to restore it. All his absent- 
mindedness and inability to enter a room and 
converse in it was, however, redeemed by his 
kindly, simple, and modest expression. Anna 
Pdvlovna turned toward him and, with a 
Christian mildness that expressed forgiveness 
of his indiscretion, nodded and said: "I hope to 
see you again, but I also hope you will change 



your opinions, my dear Monsieur Pierre." 

When she said this, he did not reply and 
only bowed, but again everybody saw his smile, 
which said nothing, unless perhaps, "Opinions 
are opinions, but you see what a capital, good- 
natured fellow I am." And everyone, includ- 
ing Anna Pavlovna, felt this. 

Prince Andrew had gone out into the hall, 
and, turning his shoulders to the footman who 
was helping him on with his cloak, listened in- 
differently to his wife's chatter with Prince 
Hippolyte who had also come into the hall. 
Prince Hippolyte stood close to the pretty, 
pregnant princess, and stared fixedly at hei 
through his eyeglass. 

"Go in, Annette, or you will catch cold," 
said the little princess, taking leave of Anna 
Pavlovna. "It is settled," she added in a low 
voice. 

Anna Pavlovna had already managed to 
speak to Lise about the match she contem- 
plated between Anatole and the little princess' 
sister-in-law. 

"I rely on you, my dear," said Anna Pdv- 
lovna, also in a low tone. "Write to her and 
let me know how her father looks at the mat- 
ter. An revoir!"znd she left the hall. 

Prince Hippolyte approached the little prin- 
cess and, bending his face close to her, began 
to whisper something. 

Two footmen, the princess' and his own, 
stood holding a shawl and a cloak, waiting for 
the conversation to finish. They listened to 
the French sentences which to them were 
meaningless, with an air of understanding but 
not wishing to appear to do so. The princess 
as usual spoke smilingly and listened with a 
laugh. 

"I am very glad I did not go to the ambas- 
sador's," said Prince Hippolyte "so dull. 
It has been a delightful evening, has it not? 
Delightful!" 

"They say die ball will be very good," re- 
plied the princess, drawing up her downy lit- 
tle lip. "All the pretty women in society will 
be there." 

"Not all, for you will not be there; not all," 
said Prince Hippolyte smiling joyfully; and 
snatching the shawl from the footman, whom 
he even pushed aside, he began wrapping it 
round the princess. Either from awkwardness 
or intentionally (no one could have said 
which) after the shawl had been adjusted he 
kept his arm around her for a long time, as 
though embracing her. 

Still smiling, she gracefully moved away, 



IS 

turning and glancing at her husband. Prince 
Andrew's eyes were closed, so weary and sleepy 
did he seem. 

"Are you ready?" he asked his wife, look- 
ing past her. 

Prince Hippolyte hurriedly put on his cloak, 
which in the latest fashion reached to his very 
heels, and, stumbling in it, ran out into the 
porch following the princess, whom a footman 
was helping into the carriage. 

"Princesse, au revoir" cried he, stumbling 
with his tongue as well as with his feet. 

The princess, picking up her dress, was tak- 
ing her seat in the dark carriage, her husband 
was adjusting his saber; Prince Hippolyte, un- 
der pretense of helping, was in everyone's 
way. 

"Allow me, sir/' said Prince Andrew in Rus- 
sian in a cold, disagreeable tone to Prince 
Hippolyte who was blocking his path. 

"I am expecting you, Pierre," said the same 
voice, but gently and affectionately. 

The postilion started, the carriage wheels 
rattled. Prince Hippolyte laughed spasmod- 
ically as he stood in the porch waiting for the 
vicomte whom he had promised to take home. 

"Well, mon cher" said the vicomte, having 
seated himself beside Hippolyte in the car- 
riage, "your little princess is very nice, very 
nice indeed, quite French," and he kissed the 
tips of his fingers. Hippolyte burst out laugh- 
ing. 

"Do you know, you are a terrible chap for 
all your innocent airs," continued the vicomte. 
"I pity the poor husband, that little officer who 
gives himself the airs of a monarch." 

Hippolyte spluttered again, and amid his 
laughter said, "And you were saying that the 
Russian ladies are not equal to the French? 
One has to know how to deal with them." 

Pierre reaching the house first went into 
Prince Andrew's study like one quite at home, 
and from habit immediately lay down on the 
sofa, took from the shelf the first book that 
came to his hand (it was Caesar's Commen- 
taries), and resting on his elbow, began read- 
ing it in the middle. 

"What have you done to Mile Sch^rer? She 
will be quite ill now," said Prince Andrew, as 
he entered the study, rubbing his small white 
hands. 

Pierre turned his whole body, making the 
sofa creak. He lifted his eager face to Prince 
Andrew, smiled, and waved his hand. 

"That abbl is very interesting but he does 



WAR AND PEACE 



not see the thing in the right light. ... In my 
opinion perpetual peace is possible but I do 
not know how to express it ... not by a bal- 
ance of political power. . . ." 

It was evident that Prince Andrew was not 
interested in such abstract conversation. 

"One can't everywhere say all one thinks, 
mon cher. Well, have you at last decided on 
anything? Are you going to be a guardsman or 
a diplomatist?" asked Prince Andrew after a 
momentary silence. 

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

"Really, I don't yet know. I don't like either 
the one or the other." 

"But you must decide on somethingl Your 
father expects it." 

Pierre at the age of ten had been sent a- 
broad with an abb as tutor, and had remained 
away till he was twenty. When he returned to 
Moscow his father dismissed the abbe* and said 
to the young man, "Now go to Petersburg, 
look round, and choose your profession. I will 
agree to anything. Here is a letter to Prince 
Vasili, and here is money. Write to me all 
about it, and I will help you in everything." 
Pierre had already been choosing a career for 
three months, and had not decided on any- 
thing. It was about this choice that Prince 
Andrew was speaking. Pierre rubbed his fore- 
head. 

"But he must be a Freemason," said he, re- 
ferring to the abb whom he had met that 
evening. ( 

"That is all nonsense." Prince Andrew 
again interrupted him, "let us talk business. 
Have you been to the Horse Guards?" 

"No, I have not; but this is what I have 
been thinking and wanted to tell you. There 
is a war now against Napoleon. If it were a 
war for freedom I could understand it and 
should be the first to enter the army; but to 
help England and Austria against the greatest 
man in the world is not right." 

Prince Andrew only shrugged his shoulders 
at Pierre's childish words. He put on the air 
of one who finds it impossible to reply to 
such nonsense, but it would in fact have been 
difficult to give any other answer than the one 
Prince Andrew gave to this naive question. 

"If no one fought except on his own con- 
viction, there would be no wars," he said. 

"And that would be splendid," said Pierre. 

Prince Andrew smiled ironically. 

"Very likely it would be splendid, but it will 
never come about. . . ." 



BOOK ONE 



"Well, why are you going to the war?" asked 
Pierre. t 

"What for? I don't know. I must. Besides 
that I am going . . ." He paused. "I am going 
because the life I am leading here does not 
suit mel" 

CHAPTER VII 

THE RUSTLE of a woman's dress was heard in 
the next room. Prince Andrew shook himself 
as if waking up, and his face assumed the look 
it had had in Anna Pdvlovna's drawing room. 
Pierre removed his feet from the sofa. The 
princess came in. She had changed her gown 
for a house dress as fresh and elegant as the 
other. Prince Andrew rose and politely placed 
a chair for her. 

"How is it," she began, as usual in French, 
settling down briskly and fussily in the easy 
chair, "how is it Annette never got married? 
How stupid you men all are not to have mar- 
ried her! Excuse me for saying so, but you 
have no sense about women. What an argu- 
mentative fellow you are, Monsieur Pierre!" 

"And I am still arguing with your husband. 
I can't understand why he wants to go to the 
war," replied Pierre, addressing the princess 
with none of the embarrassment so commonly 
shown by young men in their intercourse with 
young women. 

The princess started. Evidently Pierre's 
words touched her to the quick. 

"Ah, that is just what I tell himl" said she. 
"I don't understand it; I don't in the least un- 
derstand why men can't live without wars. 
How is it that we women don't want anything 
of the kind, don't need it? Now you shall 
judge between us. I always tell him: Here he 
is Uncle's aide-de-camp, a most brilliant posi- 
tion. He is so well known, so much appreciated 
by everyone. The other day at the Aprksins' I 
heard a lady asking, 'Is that the famous Prince 
Andrew?' I did indeed." She laughed. "He is 
so well received everywhere. He might easily 
become aide-de-camp to the Emperor. You 
know the Emperor spoke to him most gra- 
ciously. Annette and I were speaking of how to 
arrange it. What do you think?" 

Pierre looked at his friend and, noticing 
that he did not like the conversation, gave no 
reply. 

"When are you starting?" he asked. 

"Oh, don't speak of his going, don't! I won't 
hear it spoken of," said the princess in the 
same petulantly playful tone in which she had 
spoken to Hippolyte in the drawing room and 



which was so plainly ill-suited to the family 
circle of which Pierre was almost a member. 
"Today when I remembered that all these de- 
lightful associations must be broken off ... 
and then you know, Andr . . ." (she looked 
significantly at her husband) "I'm afraid, I'm 
afraid!" she whispered, and a shudder ran 
down her back. 

Her husband looked at her as if surprised to 
notice that someone besides Pierre and him- 
self was in the room, and addressed her in a 
tone of frigid politeness. 

"What is it you are afraid of, Lise? I don't 
understand," said he. 

"There, what egotists men all are: all, all 
egotists! Just for a whim of his own, goodness 
only knows why, he leaves me and locks me up 
alone in the country." 

"With my father and sister, remember," said 
Prince Andrew gently. 

"Alone all the same, without my friends. 
. . . And he expects me not to be afraid." 

Her tone was now querulous and her lip 
drawn up, giving her not a joyful, but an ani- 
mal, squirrel-like expression. She paused as if 
she felt it indecorous to speak of her preg- 
nancy before Pierre, though the gist of the 
matter lay in that. 

"I still can't understand what you are afraid 
of," said Prince Andrew slowly, not taking his 
eyes off his wife. 

The princess blushed, and raised her arms 
with a gesture of despair. 

"No, Andrew, I must say you have changed. 
Oh, how you have . . ." 

"Your doctor tells you to go to bed earlier," 
said Prince Andrew. "You had better go." 

The princess said nothing, but suddenly her 
short downy lip quivered. Prince Andrew rose, 
shrugged his shoulders, and walked about the 
room. 

Pierre looked over his spectacles with nai've 
surprise, now at him and now at her, moved 
as if about to rise too, but changed his mind. 

"Why should I mind Monsieur Pierre being 
here?" exclaimed the little princess suddenly, 
her pretty face all at once distorted by a tear- 
ful grimace. "I have long wanted to ask you, 
Andrew, why you have changed so to me? 
What have I done to you? You are going to 
the war and have no pity for me. Why is it?" 

"Lise!" was all Prince Andrew said. But that 
one word expressed an entreaty, a threat, and 
above all conviction that she would herself re- 
gret her words. But she went on hurriedly: 

"You treat me like an invalid or a child. I 



WAR AND PEACE 



see it all! Did you behave like that six months 
ago?" 

"Lise, I beg you to desist," said Prince An- 
drew still more emphatically. 

Pierre, who had been growing more and 
more agitated as he listened to all this, rose 
and approached the princess. He seemed un- 
able to bear the sight of tears and was ready to 
cry himself. 

"Calm yourself, Princess! It seems so to you 
because ... I assure you I myself have experi- 
enced . . . and so ... because . . . No, excuse 
me! An outsider is out of place here . . . No, 
don't distress yourself . . . Good-by!" 

Prince Andrew caught him by the hand. 

"No, wait, Pierre! The princess is too kind 
to wish to deprive me of the pleasure of spend- 
ing the evening with you." 

"No, he thinks only of himself," muttered the 
princess without restraining her angry tears. 

"Lise!" said Prince Andrew dryly, raising 
his voice to the pitch which indicates that pa- 
tience is exhausted. 

Suddenly the angry, squirrel-like expression 
of the princess' pretty face changed into a win- 
ning and piteous look of fear. Her beautiful 
eyes glanced askance at her husband's -face, 
and her own assumed the timid, deprecating 
expression of a dog when it rapidly but feebly 
wags its drooping tail. 

"M on Dieu, rnon Dieu!" she muttered, and 
lifting her dress with one hand she went up to 
her husband and kissed him on the forehead. 

"Good night, Lise," said he, rising and cour- 
teously kissing her hand as he would have done 
to a stranger. 

CHAPTER VIII 

THE FRIENDS were silent. Neither cared to be- 
gin talking. Pierre continually glanced at 
Prince Andrew; Prince Andrew rubbed his 
forehead with his small hand. 

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

They entered the elegant, newly decorated, 
and luxurious dining room. Everything from 
the table napkins to the silver, china, and glass 
bore that imprint of newness found in the 
households of the newly married. Halfway 
through supper Prince Andrew leaned his el- 
bows on the table and, with a look of nervous 
agitation such as Pierre had never before seen 
on his face, began to talk as one who has long 
had something on his mind and suddenly de- 
termines to speak out. 

"Never, never marry, my dear fellow! That's 



my advice: never marry till you can say to 
yoursel f that you have done all you are capa- 
ble of, and until you have ceased to love the 
woman of your choice and have seen her plain- 
ly as she is, or else you will make a cruel and 
irrevocable mistake. Marry when you are old 
and good for nothing or all that is good and 
noble in you will be lost. It will all be wasted 
on trifles. Yes! Yes! Yes! Don't look at me with 
such surprise. If you marry expecting anything 
from yourself in the future, you will feel at 
every step that for you all is ended, all is closed 
except the drawing room, where you will be 
ranged side by side with a court lackey and an 
idiot! . . . But what's the good? . . ." and he 
waved his arm. 

Pierre took off his spectacles, which made 
his face seem different and the good-natured 
expression still more apparent, and gazed at 
his friend in amazement. 

"My wife," continued Prince Andrew, "is 
an excellent woman, one of those rare women 
with whom a man's honor is safe; but, O God, 
what would I not give now to be unmarried! 
You are the first and only one to whom I men- 
tion this, because I like you." 

As he said this Prince Andrew was less than 
ever like that Bolk6nski who had lolled in 
Anna Pavlovna's easy chairs and with half- 
closed eyes had uttered French phrases be- 
tween his teeth. Every muscle of his thin face 
was now quivering with nervous excitement; 
his eyes, in which the fire of life had seemed 
extinguished, now flashed with brilliant light. 
It was evident that the more lifeless he seemed 
at ordinary times, the more impassioned he be- 
came in these moments of almost morbid irri- 
tation. 

"You don't understand why I say this," he 
continued, "but it is the whole story of life. 
You talk of Bonaparte and his career," said 
he (though Pierre had not mentioned Bona- 
parte), "but Bonaparte when he worked went 
step by step toward his goal. He was free, he 
had nothing but his aim to consider, and he 
reached it. But tie yourself up with a woman 
and, like a chained convict, you lose all free- 
dom! And all you have of hope and strength 
merely weighs you down and torments you 
with regret. Drawing rooms, gossip, balls, van- 
ity, and triviality these are the enchanted 
circle I cannot escape from. I am now going 
to the war, the greatest war there ever was, 
and I know nothing and am fit for nothing. 
I am very amiable and have a caustic wit," 
continued Prince Andrew, "and at Anna Pdv- 



BOOK ONE 



lovna's they listen to me. And that stupid set 
without whom my wife cannot exist, an4 those 
women ... If you only knew what those society 
women are, and women in general I My father 
is right. Selfish, vain, stupid, trivial in every- 
thingthat's what women are when you see 
them in their true colors! When you meet them 
in society it seems as if there were something 
in them, but there's nothing, nothing, noth- 
ing! No, don't marry, my dear fellow; don't 
marry!" concluded Prince Andrew. 

"It seems funny to me," said Pierre, "that 
you, you should consider yourself incapable 
and your life a spoiled life. You have every- 
thing before you, everything. And you . . ." 

He did not finish his sentence, but his tone 
showed how highly he thought of his friend 
and how much he expected of him in the fu- 
ture. 

"How can he talk like that?" thought Pierre. 
He considered his friend a model of perfec- 
tion because Prince Andrew possessed in the 
highest degree just the very qualities Pierre 
lacked, and which might be best described as 
strength of will. Pierre was always astonished 
at Prince Andrew's calm manner of treating 
everybody, his extraordinary memory, his ex- 
tensive reading (he had read everything, knew 
everything, and had an opinion about every- 
thing), but above all at his capacity for work 
and study. And if Pierre was often struck by 
Andrew's lack of capacity for philosophical 
meditation (to which he himself was particu- 
larly addicted), he regarded even this not as a 
defect but as a sign of strength. 

Even in the best, most friendly and sim- 
plest relations of life, praise and commenda- 
tion are essential, just as grease is necessary to 
wheels that they may run smoothly. 

"My part is played out," said Prince An- 
drew. "What's the use of talking about me? 
Let us talk about you," he added after a si- 
lence, smiling at his reassuring thoughts. 

That smile was immediately reflected on 
Pierre's face. 

"But what is there to say about me?" said 
Pierre, his face relaxing into a careless, merry 
smile. "What am I? An illegitimate son!" He 
suddenly blushed crimson, and it was plain that 
he had made a great effort to say this. "With- 
out a name and without means . . . And it 
really . , ." But he did not say what "it really" 
was. "For the present I am free and am all 
right. Only I haven't the least idea what I am 
to do; I wanted to consult you seriously." 

Prince Andrew looked kindly at him, yet 



his glance friendly and affectionate as it was 
expressed a sense of his own superiority. 

"I am fond of you, especially as you are the 
one live man among our whole set. Yes, you're 
all right! Choose what you will; it's all the 
same. You'll be all right anywhere. But look 
here: give up visiting those Kurdgins and lead- 
ing that sort of life. It suits you so badly all 
this debauchery, dissipation, and the rest of 
it!" 

"What would you have, my dear fellow?" 
answered Pierre, shrugging his shoulders. 
"Women, my dear fellow; women!" 

"I don't understand it," replied Prince An- 
drew. "Women who are comme il faut, that's 
a different matter; but the Kuragins' set of 
women, 'women and wine,' I -don't under- 
stand!" 

Pierre was staying at Prince Vasili Kurdgin's 
and sharing the dissipated life of his son Ana- 
tole, the son whom they were planning to re- 
form by marrying him to Prince Andrew's 
sister. 

"Do you know?" said Pierre, as if suddenly 
struck by a happy thought, "seriously, I have 
long been thinking of it. ... Leading such a 
life I can't decide or think properly about any- 
thing. One's head aches, and one spends all 
one's money. He asked me for tonight, but 
1 won't go." 

"You give me your word of honor not to 
go?" 

"On my honor!" 

CHAPTER IX 

1 r WAS past one o'clock when Pierre left his 
friend. It was a cloudless, northern, summer 
night. Pierre took an open cab intending to 
drive straight home. But the nearer he drew to 
the house the more he felt the impossibility of 
going to sleep on such a night. It was light 
enough to see a long way in the deserted street 
and it seemed more like morning or evening 
than night. On the way Pierre remembered 
that Anatole Kuragin was expecting the usual 
set for cards that evening, after which there 
was generally a drinking bout, finishing with 
visits of a kind Pierre was very fond of. 

"I should like to go to Kuragin's," thought 
he. 

But he immediately recalled his promise to 
Prince Andrew not to go there. Then, as hap- 
pens to people of weak character, he desired 
so passionately once more to enjoy that dissi- 
pation he was so accustomed to that he de- 
cided to go. The thought immediately occurred 



i6 



WAR AND PEACE 



to him that his promise to Prince Andrew was 
of no account, because before he gave it he 
had already promised Prince Anatole to come 
to his gathering; "besides," thought he, "all 
such 'words of honor' are conventional things 
with no definite meaning, especially if one 
considers that by tomorrow one may be dead, 
or something so extraordinary may happen to 
one that honor and dishonor will be all the 
samel" Pierre often indulged in reflections 
of this sort, nullifying all his decisions and in- 
tentions. He went to Kurdgin's. 

Reaching the large house near the Horse 
Guards' barracks, in which Anatole lived, 
Pierre entered the lighted porch, ascended 
the stairs, and went in at the open door. There 
was no one in the anteroom; empty bottles, 
cloaks, and overshoes were lying about; there 
was a smell of alcohol, and sounds of voices 
and shouting in the distance. 

Cards and supper were over, but the visitors 
had not yet dispersed. Pierre threw off his 
cloak and entered the first room, in which were 
the remains of supper. A footman, thinking 
no one saw him, was drinking on the sly what 
was left in the glasses. From the third room 
came sounds of laughter, the shouting of famil- 
iar voices, the growling of a bear, and general 
commotion. Some eight or nine young men 
were crowding anxiously round an open win- 
dow. Three others were romping with a young 
bear, one pulling him by the chain and trying 
to set him at the others. 

"I bet a hundred on Stevens!" shouted one. 

"Mind, no holding on I" cried another. 

"I bet on Dolokhovl" cried a third. "Kura- 
gin, you part our hands." 

"There, leave Bruin alone; here's a bet on." 

"At one draught, or he loses!" shouted a 
fourth. 

"Jacob, bring a bottle!" shouted the host, 
a tall, handsome fellow who stood in the midst 
of the group, without a coat, and with his fine 
linen shirt unfastened in front. "Wait a bit, 
you fellows. . . . Here is Pdtya! Good man!" 
cried he, addressing Pierre. 

Another voice, from a man of medium 
height with clear blue eyes, particularly strik- 
ing among all these drunken voices by its sober 
ring, criedfrom thewindow: "Comehere; part 
the bets!" This was D61okhov, an officer of the 
Semenov regiment, a notorious gambler and 
duelist, who was living with Anatole. Pierre 
smiled, looking about him merrily. 

"I don't understand. What's it all about?" 

"Wait a bit, he is not drunk yet! A bottle 



here," said Anatole, and taking a glass from 
the ta^le he went up to Pierre. 

"First of all you must drink!" 

Pierre drank one glass after another, look- 
ing from under his brows at the tipsy guests 
who were again crowding round the window, 
and listening to their chatter. Anatole kept on 
refilling Pierre's glass while explaining that 
D61okhov was betting with Stevens, an Eng- 
lish naval officer, that he would drink a bottle 
of rum sitting on the outer ledge of the third- 
floor window with his legs hanging out. 

"Go on, you must drink it all," said Anatole, 
giving Pierre the last glass, "or I won't let you 
go!" 

"No, I won't," said Pierre, pushing Anatole 
aside, and he went up to the window. 

D61okhov was holding the Englishman's 
hand and clearly and distinctly repeating the 
terms of the bet, addressing himself particu- 
larly to Anatole and Pierre. 

D61okhov was of medium height, with curly 
hair and light-blue eyes. He was about twenty- 
five. Like all infantry officers he wore no mus- 
tache, so that his mouth, the most striking 
feature of his face, was clearly seen. The lines 
of that mouth were remarkably finely curved. 
The middle of the upper lip formed a sharp 
wedge and closed firmly on the firm lower one, 
and something like two distinct smiles played 
continually round the two corners of the 
mouth; this, together with the resolute, inso- 
lent intelligence of his eyes, produced an effect 
which made it impossible not to notice his 
face. D61okhov was a man of small means and 
no connections. Yet, though Anatole spent 
tens of thousands of rubles, D61okhov lived 
with him and had placed himself on such a 
footing that all who knew them, including Ana- 
tole himself , respected him more than they did 
Anatole. D61okhov could play all games and 
nearly always won. However much he drank, 
he never lost his clearheadedness. Both Kurdgin 
and D61okhov were at that time notorious 
among the rakes and scapegraces of Petersburg. 

The bottle of rum was brought. The window 
frame which prevented anyone from sitting 
on the outer sill was being forced out by two 
footmen, who were evidently flurried and in- 
timidated by the directions and shouts of the 
gentlemen around. 

Anatole with his swaggering air strode up to 
the window. He wanted to smash something. 
Pushing away the footmen he tugged at the 
frame, but could not move it. He smashed a 
pane. 



BOOK ONE 



"You have a try, Hercules/' said he, Burning 
to Pierre. 

Pierre seized the crossbeam, tugged, and 
wrenched the oak frame out with a crash. 

"Take it right out, or they'll think I'm hold- 
ing on," said D61okhov. 

"Is the Englishman bragging? . . . Eh? Is it 
all right?" said Anatole. 

"First-rate," said Pierre, looking at D61ok- 
hov, who with a bottle of rum in his hand was 
approaching the window, from which the light 
of the sky, the dawn merging with the after- 
glow of sunset, was visible. 

D61okhov,the bottle of rum still in his hand, 
jumped onto the window sill. "Listen!" cried 
he, standing there and addressing those in the 
room. All were silent. 

"I bet fifty imperials" he spoke French that 
the Englishman might understand him, but he 
did not speak it very well "I bet fifty im- 
perials ... or do you wish to make it a hun- 
dred?" added he, addressing the Englishman. 

"No, fifty," replied the latter. 

"All right. Fifty imperials . . . that I will 
drink a whole bottle of rum without taking 
it from my mouth, sitting outside the window 
on this spot" (he stooped and pointed to the 
sloping ledge outside the window) "and with- 
out holding on to anything. Is that right?" 

"Quite right," said the Englishman. 

Anatole turned to the Englishman and tak- 
ing him by one of the buttons of his coat and 
looking down at him the Englishman was 
short began repeating the terms of the wager 
to him in English. 

"Wait!" cried Dolokhov, hammering with 
the bottle on the window sill to attract atten- 
tion. "Wait a bit, Kuragin. Listen! If anyone 
else does the same, I will pay him a hundred 
imperials. Do you understand?" 

The Englishman nodded, but gave no in- 
dication whether he intended to accept this 
challenge or not. Anatole did not release him, 
and though he kept nodding to show that he 
understood, Anatole went on translating D6- 
lokhov's words into English. A thin young lad, 
an hussar of the Life Guards, who had been 
losing that evening, climbed on the window 
sill, leaned over, and looked down. 

"Ohl Ohl Oh!" he muttered, looking down 
from the window at the stones of the pave- 
ment. 

"Shut up!" cried D61okhov, pushing him 
away from the window. The lad jumped awk- 
wardly back into the room, tripping over his 
spurs. 



Placing the bottle on the window sill where 
he could reach it easily, D61okhov climbed 
carefully and slowly through the window and 
lowered his legs. Pressing against both sides 
of the window, he adjusted himself on his seat, 
lowered his hands, moved a little to the right 
and then to the left, and took up the bottle. 
Anatole brought two candles and placed them 
on the window sill, though it was already quite 
light. Dolokhov's back in his white shirt, and 
his curly head, were lit up from both sides. 
Everyone crowded to the window, the English- 
man in front. Pierre stood smiling but silent. 
One man, older than the others present, sud- 
denly pushed forward with a scared and angry 
look and wanted to seize hold of Dolokhov's 
shirt. 

"I say, this is folly! He'll be killed," said this 
more sensible man. 

Anatole stopped him. 

"Don't touch him! You'll startle him and 
then he'll be killed. Eh? ... What then? . . . 
Eh?" 

D61okhov turned round and, again holding 
on with both hands, arranged himself on his 
scat. 

"If anyone comes meddling again," said he, 
emitting the words separately through his thin 
compressed lips, "I willthrowhim down there. 
Now then!" 

Saying this he again turned round, dropped 
his hands, took the bottle and lifted it to his 
lips, threw back his head, and raised his free 
hand to balance himself. One of the footmen 
who had stooped to pick up some broken glass 
remained in that position without taking his 
eyes from the window and from D61okhov's 
back. Anatole stood erect with staring eyes. 
The Englishman looked on sideways, pursing 
up his lips. The man who had wished to stop 
the affair ran to a corner of the room and 
threw himself on a sofa with his face to the 
wall. Pierre hid his face, from which a faint 
smile forgot to fade though his features now 
expressed horror and fear. All were still. Pierre 
took his hands from his eyes. Dolokhov still 
sat in the same position, only his head was 
thrown further back till his curly hair touched 
his shirt collar, and the hand holding the bot- 
tle was lifted higher and higher and trembled 
with the effort. The bottle was emptying per- 
ceptibly and rising still higher and his head 
tilting yet further back. "Why is it so long?" 
thought Pierre. It seemed to him that more 
than half an hour had elapsed. Suddenly D6- 
lokhov made a backward movement with his 



i8 



WAR AND PEACE 



spine, and his arm trembled nervously; this 
was sufficient to cause his whole body to slip as 
he sat on the sloping ledge. As he began slip- 
ping down, his head and arm wavered still 
more with the strain. One hand moved as if to 
clutch the window sill, but refrained from 
touching it. Pierre again covered his eyes and 
thought he would never open them again. Sud- 
denly he was aware of a stir all around. He 
looked up: D61okhov was standing on the win- 
dow sill, with a pale but radiant face. 
"It's empty!" 

He threw the bottle to the Englishman, who 
caught it neatly. D61okhov jumped down. He 
smelt strongly of rum. 

"Well done! . . . Fine fellow! . . . There's a 
bet for you! . . . Devil take you!" came from 
different sides. 

The Englishman took out his purse and be- 
gan counting out the money. Drilokhov stood 
frowning and did not speak. Pierre jumped 
upon the window sill. 

"Gentlemen, who wishes to bet with me? I'll 
do the same thing!" he suddenly cried. "Even 
without a bet, there! Tell them to bring me a 

bottle. I'll do it Bring a bottle!" 

"Let him do it, let him do it," saidD61okhov, 
smiling. 

"What next? Have you gone mad? . . . No 
one would let you! . . . Why, you go giddy even 
on a staircase," exclaimed several voices. 

"I'll drink it! Let's have a bottle of rum!" 
shouted Pierre, banging the table with a deter- 
mined and drunken gesture and preparing to 
climb out of the window. 

They seized him by his arms; but he was so 
strong that everyone who touched him was 
sent flying. 

"No, you'll never manage him that way," 
said Anatole. "Wait a bit and I'll get round 
him. . . . Listen! I'll take your bet tomorrow, 
but now we are all going to V 

"Come on then," cried Pierre. "Come on! 
. . . And we'll take Bruin with us." 

And he caught the bear, took it in his arms, 
lifted it from the ground, and began dancing 
round the room with it. 

CHAPTER X 

PRINCE Vxsiii kept the promise he had given 
to Princess Drubetskaya who had spoken to 
him on behalf of her only son Boris on the 
evening of Anna Pdvlovna's soiree. The mat- 
ter was mentioned to the Emperor, an excep- 
tion made, and Boris transferred into the regi- 
ment of Semenov Guards with the rank of cor- 



net. He received, however, no appointment 
to Ku c tiizov's staff despite all Anna Mikhay- 
lovna's endeavors and entreaties. Soon after 
Anna Pdvlovna's reception Anna Mikhdylovna 
returned to Moscow and went straight to her 
rich relations, the Rost6vs, with whom she 
stayed when in the town and where her darling 
B6ry, who had only just entered a regiment of 
the line and was being at once transferred to 
the Guards as a cornet, had been educated 
from childhood and lived for years at a time. 
The Guards had already left Petersburg on the 
tenth of August, and her son, who had re- 
mained in Moscow for his equipment, was to 
join them on the march to Radzivilov. 

It was St. Natalia's day and the name day of 
two of the Rost6vs the mother and the young- 
est daughter both named Nataly. Ever since 
the morning, carriages with six horses had been 
coming and going continually, bringing visi- 
tors to the Countess Rost6va's big house on the 
Povarskaya, so well known to all Moscow. The 
countess herself and her handsome eldest 
daughter were in the drawing-room with the 
visitors who came to congratulate, and who 
constantly succeeded one another in relays. 

The countess was a woman of about forty- 
five, with a thin Oriental type of face, evidently 
worn out with childbearing she had had 
twelve. A languor of motion and speech, re- 
sulting from weakness, gave her a distinguished 
air which inspired respect. Princess Anna Mi- 
kMylovna Drubetskdya, who as a member of 
the household was also seated in the drawing 
room, helped to receive and entertain the visi- 
tors. The young people were in one of the 
inner rooms, not considering it necessary to 
take part in receiving the visitors. The count 
met the guests and saw them off, inviting them 
all to dinner. 

"I am very, very grateful to you, mon cher" or 
"ma chre" he called everyone without excep- 
tion and without the slightest variation in his 
tone, "my dear," whether they were above or 
below him in rank "I thank you for myself 
and for our two dear ones whose name day 
we are keeping. But mind you come to dinner 
or I shall be offended, ma chtre! On behalf of 
the whole family I beg you to come, mon cher!" 
These words he repeated to everyone without 
exception or variation, and with the same ex- 
pression on his full, cheerful, clean-shaven 
face, the same firm pressure of the hand and 
the same quick, repeated bows. As soon as he 
had seen a visitor off he returned to one of 
those who were still in the drawing room, 



BOOK ONE 



drew a chair toward him or her, and jauntily 
spreading out his legs and putting hi hands 
on his knees with the air of a man who enjoys 
life and knows how to live, he swayed to and 
fro with dignity, offered surmises about the 
weather, or touched on questions of health, 
sometimes in Russian and sometimes in very 
bad but self-confident French; then again, like 
a man weary but unflinching in the fulfillment 
of duty, he rose to see some visitors off and, 
stroking his scanty gray hairs over his bald 
patch, also asked them to dinner. Sometimes 
on his way back from the anteroom he would 
pass through the conservatory and pantry into 
the large marble dining hall, where tables were 
being set out for eighty people; and looking 
at the footmen, who were bringing in silver 
and china, moving tables, and unfolding dam- 
ask table linen, he would call Dmitri Vasfle- 
vich, a man of good family and the manager of 
all his affairs, and while looking with pleasure 
at the enormous table would say: "Well, 
Dmitri, you'll see that things are all as they 
should be? That's right! The great thing is the 
serving, that's it." And with a complacent sigh 
he would return to the drawing room. 

"Mrya Lv6vna Kardgina and her daugh- 
ter!" announced the countess' gigantic foot- 
man in his bass voice, entering the drawing 
room. The countess reflected a moment and 
took a pinch from a gold snuffbox with her 
husband's portrait on it. 

"I'm quite worn out by these callers. How- 
ever, I'll see her and no more. She is so affected. 
Ask her in," she said to the footman in a sad 
voice, as if saying : "Very well, finish me off." 

A tall, stout, and proud-looking woman, with 
a round-faced smiling daughter, entered the 
drawing room, their dresses rustling. 

"Dear Countess, what an age . . . She has 
been laid up, poor child ... at the Razum6v- 
ski's ball . . . and Countess Aprdksina ... I was 
so delighted ..." came the sounds of animated 
feminine voices, interrupting one another and 
mingling with the rustling of dresses and the 
scraping of chairs. Then one of those conver- 
sations began which last out until, at the first 
pause, the guests rise with a rustle of dresses 
and say, "I am so delighted . . . Mamma's 
health . . . and Countess Apraksina . . ." and 
then, again rustling, pass into the anteroom, 
put on cloaks or mantles, and drive away. The 
conversation was on the chief topic of the day: 
the illness of the wealthy and celebrated beau 
of Catherine's day, Count Bezukhov,and about 
his illegitimate son Pierre, the one who had 



behaved so improperly at Anna Pdvlovna's re- 
ception. 

"I am so sorry for the poor count," said the 
visitor. "He is in such bad health, and now this 
vexation about his son is enough to kill him!" 

"What is that?" asked the countess as if she 
did not know what the visitor alluded to, 
though she had already heard about the cause 
of Count Bezrikhov's distress some fifteen times. 

"That's what comes of a modern educa- 
tion," exclaimed the visitor. "It seems that 
while he was abroad this young man was al- 
lowed to do as he liked, and now in Petersburg 
I hear he has been doing such terrible things 
that he has been expelled by the police." 

"You don't say so!" replied the countess. 

"He chose his friends badly," interposed 
Anna Mikhaylovna. "Prince Vasili's son, he, 
and a certain Dolokhov have, it is said, been 
up to heaven only knows what! And they have 
had to suffer for it. D61okhov has been de- 
graded to the ranks and Bezukhov's son sent 
back to Moscow. Anatole Kurdgin's father 
managed somehow to get his son's affair 
hushed up, but even he was ordered out of 
Petersburg." 

"But what have they been up to?" asked the 
countess. 

"They are regular brigands, especially D6- 
lokhov," replied f the visitor. "He is a son of 
Mdrya Ivdnovna" D6tpkhova, such a worthy 
woman, but there, just fancy! Those three got 
hold of a bear somewhere, put it in a carriage, 
and set off with it to visit some actresses! The 
police tried to interfere, and what did the 
young men do? They tied a policeman and the 
bear back to back and put the bear into the 
Moyka Canal. And there was the bear swim- 
ming about with the policeman on his back!" 

"What a nice figure the policeman must 
have cut, my dear!" shouted the count, dying 
with laughter, 

"Oh, how dreadful! How can you laugh at 
it, Count?" 

Yet the ladies themselves could not help 
laughing. 

"It was all they could do to rescue the poor 
man," continued the visitor. "And to think it 
is Cyril Vladimirovich Bezukhov's son who 
amuses himself in this sensible manner! And 
he was said to be so well educated and clever. 
This is all that his foreign education has done 
for him! I hope that here in Moscow no one 
will receive him, in spite of his money. They 
wanted to introduce him to me, but I quite 
declined: I have my daughters to consider." 



2O 



WAR AND PEACE 



"Why do you say this young man is so rich?" 
asked die countess, turning away from the 
girls, who at once assumed an air of inatten- 
tion. "His children are all illegitimate. I drink 
Pierre also is illegitimate." 

The visitor made a gesture with her hand. 

"I should think he has a score of them." 

Princess Anna MikMylovna intervened in 
the conversation, evidently wishing to show 
her connections and knowledge of what went 
on in society. 

"The fact of the matter is," said she signifi- 
cantly, and also in a half whisper, "everyone 
knows Count Cyril's reputation. ... He has 
lost count of his children, but this Pierre was 
his favorite." 

"How handsome the old man still was only 
a year ago!" remarked the countess. "I have 
never seen a handsomer man." 

"He is very much altered now," said Anna 
Mikhaylovna. "Well, as I was saying, Prince 
Vasili is the next heir through his wife, but 
the count is very fond of Pierre, looked after 
his education, and wrote to the Emperor about 
him; so that in the case of his death and he is 
so ill that he may die at any moment, and Dr. 
Lorrain has come from Petersburg no one 
knows who will inherit his immense fortune, 
Pierre or Prince Vasili. Forty thousand serfs 
and millions of rubles! I know it all very well 
for Prince Vasili told me himself. Besides, 
Cyril Vladimirovich is my mother's second 
cousin. He's also my B6ry's godfather," she 
added, as if she attached no importance at all 
to the fact. 

"Prince Vasili arrived in Moscow yesterday. 
I hear he has come on some inspection busi- 
ness," remarked the visitor. 

"Yes, but between ourselves," said the prin- 
cess, "that is a pretext. The fact is he has come 
to see Count Cyril Vladimirovich, hearing how 
ill he is." 

"But do you know, my dear, that was a capi- 
tal joke," said the count; and seeing that the 
elder visitor was not listening, he turned to 
the young ladies. "I can just imagine what a 
funny figure that policeman cut!" 

And as he waved his arms to impersonate 
the policeman, his portly form again shook 
with a deep ringing laugh, the laugh of one 
who always eats well and, in particular, drinks 
well. "So do come and dine with usl" he said. 

CHAPTER XI 

SILENCE ENSUED. The countess looked at her 
callers, smiling affably, but not concealing the 



fact that she would not be distressed if they 
now r<,se and took their leave. The visitor's 
daughter was already smoothing down her 
dress with an inquiring look at her mother, 
when suddenly from the next room were heard 
the footsteps of boys and girls running to the 
door and the noise of a chair falling over, and 
a girl of thirteen, hiding something in the 
folds of her short muslin frock, darted in and 
stopped short in the middle of the room. It 
was evident that she had not intended her 
flight to bring her so far. Behind Her in the door- 
way appeared a student with a crimson coat 
collar, an officer of the Guards, a girl of fifteen, 
and a plump rosy-faced boy in a short jacket. 

The count jumped up and, swaying from 
side to side, spread his arms wide and threw 
them round the little girl who had run in. 

"Ah, here she is!" he exclaimed laughing. 
"My pet, whose name day it is. My dear pet!" 

"Ma chtre, there is a time for everything," 
said the countess with feigned severity. "You 
spoil her, Ilya," she added, turning to her hus- 
band. 

"How do you do, my dear? I wish you many 
happy returns of your name day," said the 
visitor. "What a charming child," she added, 
addressing the mother. 

This black-eyed, wide-mouthed girl, not 
pretty but full of life with childish bare 
shoulders which after her run heaved and 
shook her bodice, with black curls tossed back- 
ward, thin bare arms, little legs in lace-frilled 
drawers, and feet in low slippers was just at 
that charming age when a girl is no longer a 
child, though the child is not yet a young 
woman. Escaping from her father she ran to 
hide her flushed face in the lace of her mother's 
mantilla not paying the least attention to 
her severe remark and began to laugh. She 
laughed, and in fragmentary sentences tried 
to explain about a doll which she produced 
from the folds of her frock. 

"Do you see? . . . My doll . . . Mimi . . . You 
see . . ." was all Natasha managed to utter (to 
her everything seemed funny). She leaned 
against her mother and burst into such a loud, 
ringing fit of laughter that even the prim visi- 
tor could not help joining in. 

"Now then, go a way and take your monstros- 
ity with you," said the mother, pushing away 
her daughter with pretended sternness, and 
turning to the visitor she added: "She is my 
youngest girl." 

Natdsha, raising her face for a moment from 
her mother's mantilla, glanced up at her 



through tears of laughter, and again hid her 
face. 

The visitor, compelled to look on at this 
family scene, thought it necessary to take some 
part in it. 

"Tell me, my dear," said she to Natasha, 
"is Mimi a relation of yours? A daughter, I 
suppose?" 

Natdsha did not like the visitor's tone of 
condescension to childish things. She did not 
reply, but looked at her seriously. 

Meanwhile the younger generation: Boris, 
the officer, Anna Mikhdylovna's son; Nicholas, 
the undergraduate, the count's eldest son; 
S6nya, the count's fifteen-year-old niece, and 
little P^tya, his youngest boy, had all settled 
down in the drawing room and were obviously 
trying to restrain within the bounds of de- 
corum the excitement and mirth that shone in 
all their faces. Evidently in the back rooms, 
from which they had dashed out so impetu- 
ously, the conversation had been more amus- 
ing than the drawing-room talk of society scan- 
dals, the weather, and Countess Apraksina. 
Now and then they glanced at one another, 
hardly able to suppress their laughter. 

The two young men, the student and the 
officer, friends from childhood, were of the 
same age and both handsome fellows, though 
not alike. Boris was tall and fair, and his calm 
and handsome face had regular, delicate fea- 
tures. Nicholas was short with curly hair and 
an open expression. Dark hairs were already 
showing on his upper lip, and his whole face 
expressed impetuosity and enthusiasm. Nicho- 
las blushed when he entered the drawingroom. 
He evidently tried to find something to say, 
but failed. Boris on the contrary at once found 
his footing, and related quietly and humor- 
ously how he had known that doll Mimi when 
she was still quite a young lady, before her nose 
was broken; how she had aged during the five 
years he had known her, and how her head 
had cracked right across the skull. Having said 
this he glanced at Natdsha. She turned away 
from him and glanced at her younger brother, 
who was screwing up his eyes and shaking 
with suppressed laughter, and unable to con- 
trol herself any longer, she jumped up and 
rushed from the room as fast as her nimble 
little feet would carry her. Boris did not laugh. 

"You were meaning to go out, weren't you, 
Mamma? Do you want the carriage?" he asked 
his mother with a smile. 

"Yes, yes, go and tell them to get it ready/' 
she answered, returning his smile. 



BOOK ONE 21 

Boris quietly left the room and went in 
search of Natasha. The plump boy ran after 
them angrily, as if vexed that their program 
had been disturbed. 

THE ONLY young people remaining in the 
drawing room, not counting the young lady 
visitor and the countess' eldest daughter (who 
was four years older than her sister and be- 
haved already like a grown-up person), were 
Nicholas and S6nya, the niece. S6nya was a 
slender little brunette with a tender look in 
her eyes which were veiled by long lashes, 
thick black plaits coiling twice round her head, 
and a tawny tint in her complexion and espe- 
cially in the color of her slender but graceful 
and muscular arms and neck. By the grace of 
her movements, by the softness and flexibility 
of her small limbs, and by a certain coyness 
and reserve of manner, she reminded one of a 
pretty, half-grown kitten which promises to 
become a beautiful little cat. She evidently 
considered it proper to show an interest in the 
general conversation by smiling, but in spite 
of herself her eyes under their thick long lashes 
watched her cousin who was going to join the 
army, with such passionate girlish adoration 
that her smile could not for a single instant 
impose upon anyone, and it was clear that the 
kitten had settled down only to spring up with 
more energy and again play with her cousin 
as soon as they too could, like Natdsha and 
Boris, escape from the drawing room. 

"Ah yes, my dear," said the count, addressing 
the visitor and pointing to Nicholas, "his 
friend Borfs has become an officer, and so for 
friendship's sake he is leaving the university 
and me, his old father, and entering the mili- 
tary service, my dear. And there was a place 
and everything waiting for him in the Archives 
Department! Isn't that friendship?" remarked 
the count in an inquiring tone. 

"But they say that war has been declared," 
replied the visitor. 

"They've been saying so a long while," said 
the count, "and they'll say so again and again, 
and that will be the end of it. My dear, there's 
friendship for you," he repeated. "He's join- 
ing the hussars." 

The visitor, not knowing what to say, shook 
her head. 

"It's not at all from friendship," declared 
Nicholas, flaring up and turning away as it 
from a shameful aspersion. "It is not from 
friendship at all; I simply feel that the army is 
my vocation." 



WAR AND PEACE 



He glanced at his cousin and the young lady 
visitor; and they were both regarding him with 
a smile of approbation. 

"Schubert, the colonel of the Pdvlograd Hus- 
sars, is dining with us today. He has been here 
on leave and is taking Nicholas back with him. 
It can't be helped!" said the count, shrugging 
his shoulders and speaking playfully of a mat- 
ter that evidently distressed him. 

"I have already told you, Papa," said his son, 
"that if you don't wish to let me go, I'll stay. 
But I know I am no use anywhere except in 
the army; I am not a diplomat or a govern- 
ment clerk. I don't know how to hide what 
I feel." As he spoke he kept glancing with the 
flirtatiousness of a handsome youth at S6nya 
and the young lady visitor. 

The little kitten, feasting her eyes on him, 
seemed ready at any moment to start her gam- 
bols again and display her kittenish nature. 

"All right, all right!" said the old count. "He 
always flares up! This Buonaparte has turned 
all their heads; they all think of how he rose 
from an ensign and became Emperor. Well, 
well, God grant it," he added, not noticing his 
visitor's sarcastic smile. 

The elders began talking about Bonaparte. 
Julie Kardgina turned to young Rost6v. 

"What a pity you weren't at the Arkharovs' 
on Thursday. It was so dull without you," said 
she, giving him a tender smile. 

The young man, flattered, sat down nearer 
to her with a coquettish smile, and engaged 
the smiling Julie in a confidential conversa- 
tion without at all noticing that his involun- 
tary smile had stabbed the heart of S6nya, who 
blushed and smiled unnaturally. In the midst 
of his talk he glanced round at her. She gave 
him a passionately angry glance, and hardly 
able to restrain her tears and maintain the 
artificial smile on her lips, she got up and left 
the room. All Nicholas' animation vanished. 
He waited for the first pause in the conversa- 
tion, and then with a distressed face left the 
room to find Sony a. 

"How plainly all these young people wear 
their hearts on their sleeves!" said Anna Mi- 
khdylovna, pointing to Nicholas as he went 
out. "Cousinage dangereux voisinage" 1 she 
added. 

"Yes," said the countess when the brightness 
these young people had brought into the room 
had vanished; and as if answering a question 
no one had put but which was always in her 
mind, "and how much suffering, how much 

1 Cousin hood is a dangerous neighborhood. 



anxiety one has had to go through that we 
might rejoice in them now! And yet really the 
anxiety is greater now than the joy. One is 
always, always anxious! Especially just at this 
age, so dangerous both for girls and boys." 

"It all depends on the bringing up," re- 
marked the visitor. 

"Yes, you're quite right," continued the 
countess. "Till now I have always, thank God, 
been my children's friend and had their full 
confidence," said she, repeating the mistake of 
so many parents who imagine that their chil- 
dren have no secrets from them. "I know I 
shall always be my daughters' first confidante, 
and that if Nicholas, with his impulsive na- 
ture, does get into mischief (a boy can't help 
it), he will all the same never be like those 
Petersburg young men." 

"Yes, they are splendid, splendid young- 
sters," chimed in the count, who always solved 
questions that seemed to him perplexing by 
deciding that everything was splendid. "Just 
fancy: wants to be an hussar. What's one to do, 
my dear?" 

"What a charming creature your younger 
girl is," said the visitor; "a little volcano!" 

"Yes, a regular volcano," said the count. 
"Takes after me! And what a voice she has; 
though she's my daughter, I tell the truth when 
I say she'll be a singer, a second Salomoni! We 
have engaged an Italian to give her lessons." 

"Isn't she too young? I have heard that it 
harms the voice to train it at that age." 

"Oh no, not at all too young!" replied the 
count. "Why, our mothers used to be married 
at twelve or thirteen." 

"And she's in love with Boris already. Just 
fancy!" said the countess with a gentle smile, 
looking at Bon's' mother, and went on, evi- 
dently concerned with a thought that always 
occupied her: "Now you see if I were to be 
severe with her and to forbid it ... goodness 
knows what they might be up to on the sly" 
(she meant that they would be kissing), "but 
as it is, I know every word she utters. She will 
come running to me of her own accord in the 
evening and tell me everything. Perhaps I 
spoil her, but really that seems the best plan. 
With her elder sister I was stricter." 

"Yes, I was brought up quite differently," 
remarked the handsome elder daughter, Count- 
ess Ve*ra, with a smile. 

But the smile did not enhance V&ra's beauty 
as smiles generally do; on the contrary it gave 
her an unnatural, and therefore unpleasant, 
expression. Ve*ra was good-looking, not at all 



BOOK ONE 



stupid, quick at learning, was well brought up, 
and had a pleasant voice; what she said was 
true and appropriate, yet, strange to say, every- 
onethe visitors and countess aliketurned 
to look at her as if wondering why she had said 
it, and they all felt awkward. 

"People are always too clever with their eld- 
est children and try to make something excep- 
tional of them," said the visitor. 

"What's the good of denying it, my dear? 
Our dear countess was too clever with Wra," 
said the count. "Well, what of that? She's 
turned out splendidly all the same," he added, 
winking at V^ra. 

The guests got up and took their leave, 
promising to return to dinner. 

"What manners! I thought they would never 
go," said the countess, when she had seen her 
guests out. 

CHAPTER XIII 

WHEN Natdsha ran out of the drawing room 
she only went as far as the conservatory. There 
she paused and stood listening to the conver- 
sation in the drawing room, waiting for Boris 
to come out. She was already growing impa- 
tient, and stamped her foot, ready to cry at his 
not coming at once, when she heard the young 
man's discreet steps approaching neither quick- 
ly nor slowly. At this Natasha dashed swiftly 
among the flower tubs and hid there. 

Boris paused in the middle of the room, 
looked round, brushed a little dust from the 
sleeve of his uniform, and going up to a mirror 
examined his handsome face. Natdsha, very 
still, peered out from her ambush, waiting to 
see what he would do. He stood a little while 
before the glass, smiled, and walked toward 
the other door. Natasha was about to call him 
but changed her mind. "Let him look for me," 
thought she. Hardly had Boris gone than 
S6nya, flushed, in tears, and muttering angrily, 
came in at the other door. Natdsha checked 
her first impulse to run out to her, and re- 
mained in her hiding place, watching as un- 
der an invisible cap to see what went on in the 
world. She was experiencing a new and pecul- 
iar pleasure. S6nya, muttering to herself, kept 
looking round toward the drawing-room door. 
It opened and Nicholas came in. 

"S6nya, what is the matter with you? How 
can you?" said he, running up to her. 

"It's nothing, nothing; leave me alone!" 
sobbed S6nya. 

"Ah, I know what it is." 

"Well, if you do, so much the better, and 



you can go back to her!" 

"S6-o-onya! Look here! How can you tor- 
ture me and yourself like that, for a mere 
fancy?" said Nicholas taking her hand. 

S6nya did not pull it away, and left off cry- 
ing. Natdsha, not stirring and scarcely breath- 
ing, watched from her ambush with sparkling 
eyes. "What will happen now?" thought she. 

"Sonya! What is anyone in the world to me? 
You alone are everything!" said Nicholas. 
"And I will prove it to you." 

"I don't like you to talk like that." 

"Well, then, I won't; only forgive me, 
S6nya!" He drew her to him and kissed her. 

"Oh, how nice," thought Natdsha; and when 
S6nya and Nicholas had gone out of the con- 
servatory she followed and called Boris to her. 

"Boris, come here," said she with a sly and 
significant look. "I have something to tell you. 
Here, here!" and she led him into the conserv- 
atory to the place among the tubs where she 
had been hiding. 

Boris followed her, smiling. 

"What is the something?" asked he. 

She grew confused, glanced round, and, see- 
ing the doll she had thrown down on one of 
the tubs, picked it up. 

"Kiss the doll," said she. 

Boris looked attentively and kindly at her 
eager face, but did not reply. 

"Don't you want to? Well, then, come here," 
said she, and went further in among the plants 
and threw down the doll. "Closer, closer!" she 
whispered. 

She caught the young officer by his cuffs, and 
a look of solemnity and fear appeared on her 
flushed face. 

"And me? Would you like to kiss me?" she 
whispered almost inaudibly, glancing up at 
him from under her brows, smiling, and al- 
most crying from excitement. 

Boris blushed. 

"How funny you are!" he said, bending 
down to her and blushing still more, but he 
waited and did nothing. 

Suddenly she jumped up onto a tub to be 
higher than he, embraced him so that both her 
slender bare arms clasped him above his neck, 
and, tossing back her hair, kissed him full on 
the lips. 

Then she slipped down among the flower- 
pots on the other side of the tubs and stood, 
hanging her head. 

"Natdsha," he said, "you know that I love 
you, but . . ." 

"You are in love with me?" Natdsha broke in. 



24 

"Yes, I am, but please don't let us do like 
that. ... In another four years . . . then I will 
ask for your hand." 

Natasha considered. 

"Thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen," she 
counted on her slender little fingers. "All rightl 
Then it's settled?" 

A smile of joy and satisfaction lit up her 
eager face. 

"Settled!" replied Boris. 

"Forever?" said the little girl. "Till death 
itself?" 

She took his arm and with a happy face went 
with him into the adjoining sitting room. 



CHAPTER XIV 

AFTER RECEIVING her visitors, the countess was 
so tired that she gave orders to admit no more, 
but the porter was told to be sure to invite to 
dinner all who came "to congratulate." The 
countess wished to have a te'te-a-te'te talk with 
the friend of her childhood, Princess Anna 
Mikhdylovna, whom she had not seen properly 
since she returned from Petersburg. Anna 
Mikhiylovna, with her tear- worn but pleasant 
face, drew her chair nearer to that of the 
countess. 

"With you I will be quite frank," said Anna 
MikMylovna. "There are not many left of us 
old friends! That's why I so value your friend- 
ship." 

Anna Mikhdylovna looked at Wra and 
paused. The countess pressed her friend's hand. 

"Wra," she said to her eldest daughter who 
was evidently not a favorite, "how is it you 
have so little tact? Don't you see you are not 
wanted here? Go to the other girls, or ..." 

The handsome Wra smiled contemptuously 
but did not seem at all hurt. 

"If you had told me sooner, Mamma, I would 
have gone," she replied as she rose to go to her 
own room. 

But as she passed the sitting room she no- 
ticed two couples sitting, one pair at each win- 
dow. She stopped and smiled scornfully. S6nya 
was sitting close to Nicholas who was copying 
out some verses for her, the first he had ever 
written. Boris and Natdsha were at the other 
window and ceased talking when Wra entered. 
S6nya and Natasha looked at Wra with guilty, 
happy faces. 

It was pleasant and touching to see these 
little girls in love; but apparently the sight of 
them roused no pleasant feeling in Wra. 

"How often have I asked you not to take 
my things?" she said. "You have a room of your 



WAR AND PEACE 

own," ( and she took the inkstand from Nicholas. 

"In a minute, in a minute," he said, dipping 
his pen. 

"You always manage to do things at the 
wrong time," continued Wra. "You came 
rushing into the drawing room so that every- 
one felt ashamed of you." 

Though what she said was quite just, per- 
haps for that very reason no one replied, and 
the four simply looked at one another. She 
lingered in the room with the inkstand in her 
hand. 

"And at your age what secrets can there be 
between Natdsha and Boris, or between you 
two? It's all nonsense!" 

"Now, Wra, what does it matter to you?" 
said Natasha in defense, speaking very gently. 

She seemed that day to be more than ever 
kind and affectionate to everyone. 

"Very silly," said Wra. "I am ashamed of 
you. Secrets indeed!" 

"All have secrets of their own," answered 
Natasha, getting warmer. "We don't interfere 
with you and Berg." 

"I should think not," said Wra, "because 
there can never be anything wrong in my be- 
havior. But I'll just tell Mamma how you are 
behaving with Boris." 

"Natlyallynichna behaves very well to me," 
remarked Boris. "I have nothing to complain 
of." 

"Don't, Boris! You are such a diplomat that 
it is really tiresome," said Natasha in a morti- 
fied voice that trembled slightly. (She used 
the word "diplomat," which was just then much 
in vogue among the children, in the special 
sense they attached to it.) "Why does she 
bother me?" And she added, turning to Wra, 
"You'll never understand it, because you've 
never loved anyone. You have no heart! You 
are a Madame de Genlis 1 and nothing more" 
(this nickname, bestowed on Wra by Nicholas, 
was considered very stinging), "and your great- 
est pleasure is to be unpleasant to people! Go 
and flirt with Berg as much as you please," she 
finished quickly. 

"I shall at any rate not run after a young 
man before visitors ..." 

"Well, now you've done what you wanted," 
put in Nicholas "said unpleasant things to 
everyone and upset them. Let's go to the nurs- 
ery." 

All four, like a flock of scared birds, got up 
and left the room. 



*A French writer of that period, authoress of 
educational works and novels. TR. 



BOOK ONE 



"The unpleasant things were said t<j me," 
remarked Vera, "I said none to anyone." 

"Madame de Genlis! Madame de GenlisI" 
shouted laughing voices through the door. 

The handsome Vdra, who produced such an 
irritating and unpleasant effect on everyone, 
smiled and, evidently unmoved by what had 
been said to her, went to the looking glass and 
arranged her hair and scarf. Looking at her 
own handsome face she seemed to become still 
colder and calmer. 

In the drawing room the conversation was 
still going on. 

"Ah, my dear," said the countess, "my life 
is not all roses either. Don't I know that at the 
rate we are living our means won't last long? 
It's all the Club and his easygoing nature. Even 
in the country do we get any rest? Theatricals, 
hunting, and heaven knows what besides! But 
don't let's talk about me; tell me how you 
managed every th ing. I often wonder at you, 
Annette how at your age you can rush off 
alone in a carriage to Moscow, to Petersburg, 
to those ministers and great people, and know 
how to deal with them all! It's quite astonish- 
ing. How did you get things settled? I couldn't 
possibly do it." 

"Ah, my love," answered Anna Mikhaylovna, 
"God grant you never know what it is to be 
left a widow without means and with a son 
you love to distraction! One learns many things 
then," she added with a certain pride. "That 
lawsuit taught me much. When I want to see 
one of those big people I write a note: 'Prin- 
cess So-and-So desires an interview with So- 
and-So,' and then I take a cab and go myself 
two, three, or four times till I get what I want. 
I don't mind what they think of me." 

"Well, and to whom did you apply about 
Bory?" asked the countess. "You see yours is 
already an officer in the Guards, while my 
Nicholas is going as a cadet. There's no one to 
interest himself for him. To whom did you 
apply?" 

"To Prance Vasfli. He was so kind. He at 
once agreed to everything, and put the matter 
before the Emperor," said Princess Anna Mi- 
khdylovna enthusiastically, quite forgetting all 
the humiliation she had endured to gain her 
end. 

"Has Prince Vasfli aged much?" asked the 
countess. "I have not seen him since we acted 
together at the Rumydntsovs' theatricals. I ex- 
pect he has forgotten me. He paid me attentions 
in those days," said the countess, with a smile. 



"He is just the same as ever," replied Anna 
Mikhdylovna, "overflowing with amiability. 
His position has not turned his head at all. He 
said to me, 'I am sorry I can do so little for 
you, dear Princess. I am at your command.' 
Yes, he is a fine fellow and a very kind rela- 
tion. But, Nataly, you know my love for my 
son: I would do anything for his happiness! 
And my affairs are in such a bad way that my 
position is now a terrible one," continued 
Anna Mikhaylovna, sadly, dropping her voice. 
"My wretched lawsuit takes all I have and 
makes no progress. Would you believe it, I 
have literally not a penny and don't know how 
to equip Boris." She took out her handkerchief 
and began to cry. "I need five hundred rubles, 
and have only one twenty-five-ruble note. I 
am in such a state. . . . My only hope now is 
in Count Cyril Vladimirovich Beziikhov. If he 
will not assist his godson you know he is Bory's 
godfather and allow him something for his 
maintenance, all my trouble will have been 
thrown away. ... I shall not be able to equip 
him." 

The countess' eyes filled with tears and she 
pondered in silence. 

"I often think, though, perhaps it's a sin," 
said the princess, "that here lives Count Cyril 
Vladfmirovith Beziikhov so rich, all alone . . . 
that tremendous fortune . . . and what is his 
life worth? It's a burden to him, and B6ry's 
life is only just beginning. . . ." 

"Surely he will leave something to Boris," 
said the countess. 

"Heaven only knows, my dear! These rich 
grandees are so selfish. Still, I will take Borfs 
and go to see him at once, and I shall speak 
to him straight out. Let people think what they 
will of me, it's really all the same to me when 
my son's fate is at stake." The princess rose. 
"It's now two o'clock and you dine at four. 
There will just be time." 

And like a practical Petersburg lady who 
knows how to make the most of time, Anna 
Mikhdylovna sent someone to call her son, 
and went into the anteroom with him. 

"Good-by, my dear," said she to the countess 
who saw her to the door, and added in a 
whisper so that her son should not hear, 
"Wish me good luck." 

"Are you going to Count Cyril Vladfmiro- 
vich, my dear?" said the count coming out 
from the dining hall into the anteroom, and 
he added: "If he is better, ask Pierre to dine 
with us. He has been to the house, you know, 
and danced with the children. Be sure to in- 



WAR AND PEACE 



vite him, my dear. We will see how Tards dis- 
tinguishes himself today. He says Count Orl6v 
never gave such a dinner as ours will bel" 

CHAPTER XV 

"Mv DEAR Boris," said Princess Anna Mikhdy- 
lovna to her son as Countess Rost6va's car- 
riage in which they were seated drove over the 
straw-covered street and turned into the wide 
courtyard of Count Cyril Vladfmirovich Bezu- 
khov'shouse. "My dear Boris," said the mother, 
drawing her hand from beneath her old man- 
tle and laying it timidly and tenderly on her 
son's arm, "be affectionate and attentive to 
him. Count Cyril Vladimirovich is your god- 
father after all, and your future depends on 
him. Remember that, my dear, and be nice to 
him, as you so well know how to be." 

"If only I knew that anything besides hu- 
miliation would come of it . . ." answered her 
son coldly. "But I have promised and will do 
it for your sake." 

Although the hall porter saw someone's 
carriage standing at the entrance, after scru- 
tinizing the mother and son (who without ask- 
ing to be announced had passed straight 
through the glass porch between the rows of 
statues in niches) and looking significantly at 
the lady's old cloak, he asked whether they 
wanted the count or the princesses, and, hear- 
ing that they wished to see the count, said his 
excellency was worse today, and that his excel- 
lency was not receiving anyone. 

"We may as well go back," said the son in 
French. 

"My dear!" exclaimed his mother implor- 
ingly, again laying her hand on his arm as if 
that touch might soothe or rouse him. 

Boris said no more, but looked inquiringly 
at his mother without taking off his cloak. 

"My friend," said Anna Mikhlylovna in 
gentle tones, addressing the hall porter, "I 
know Count Cyril Vladimirovich is very ill 
. . . that's why I have come ... I am a relation. 
I shall not disturb him, my friend ... I only 
need see Prince Vasili Serg^evich: he is stay- 
ing here, is he not? Please announce me." 

The hall porter sullenly pulled a bell that 
rang upstairs, and turned away. 

"Princess Drubetskdya to see Prince Vasili 
Serg^evich," he called to a footman dressed in 
knee breeches, shoes, and a swallow-tail coat, 
who ran downstairs and looked over from the 
halfway landing. 

The mother smoothed the folds of her dyed 
silk dress before a large Venetian mirror in 



the wajl, and in her trodden-down shoes brisk- 
ly ascended the carpeted stairs. 

"My dear," she said to her son, once more 
stimulating him by a touch, "you promised 
me!" 

The son, lowering his eyes, followed her 
quietly. 

They entered the large hall, from which one 
of the doors led to the apartments assigned to 
Prince Vasili. 

Just as the mother and son, having reached 
the middle of the hall, were about to ask their 
way of an elderly footman who had sprung up 
as they entered, the bronze handle of one of 
the doors turned and Prince Vasili came out- 
wearing a velvet coat with a single star on his 
breast, as was his custom when at home tak- 
ing leave of a good-looking, dark-haired man. 
This was the celebrated Petersburg doctor, 
Lorrain. 

"Then it is certain?" said the prince. 

"Prince, humanum est errare, 1 but . . ." re- 
plied the doctor, swallowing his r% and pro- 
nouncing the Latin words with a French ac- 
cent. 

"Very well, very well . . ." 

Seeing Anna Mikhdylovna and her son, 
Prince Vasili dismissed the doctor with a bow 
and approached them silently and with a look 
of inquiry. The son noticed that an expression 
of profound sorrow suddenly clouded his 
mother's face, and he smiled slightly. 

"Ah, Prince! In what sad circumstances we 
meet again! And how is our dear invalid?" 
said she, as though unaware of the cold of- 
fensive look fixed on her. 

Prince Vasili stared at her and at Boris ques- 
tioningly and perplexed. Boris bowed polite- 
ly. Prince Vasili without acknowledging the 
bow turned to Anna Mikhdylovna, answering 
her query by a movement of the head and lips 
indicating very little hope for the patient. 

"Is it possible?" exclaimed Anna Mikhdy- 
lovna. "Oh, how awful! It is terrible to think. 
. . . This is my son," she added, indicating 
Boris. "He wanted to thank you himself." 

Boris bowed again politely. * 

"Believe me, Prince, a mother's heart will 
never forget what you have done for us." 

"I am glad I was able to do you a service, my 
dear Anna Mikhdylovna," said Prince Vasili, 
arranging his lace frill, and in tone and man- 
ner, here in Moscow to Anna Mikhdylovna 
whom he had placed under an obligation, as- 
suming an air of much greater importance than 

1 To err is human. 



BOOK ONE 



he had done in Petersburg at Anna Sender's 
reception. f 

"Try to serve well and show yourself worthy," 
added he, addressing Boris with severity. "I 
am glad. . . . Are you here on leave?" he went 
on in his usual tone of indifference. 

"I am awaiting orders to join my new regi- 
ment, your excellency," replied Boris, betray- 
ing neither annoyance at the prince's brusque 
manner nor a desire to enterinto conversation, 
but speaking so quietly and respectfully that 
the prince gave him a searching glance. 

"Are you living with your mother?" 

"I am living at Countess Rost6va's," replied 
Boris, again adding, "your excellency." 

"That is, with Ilyd Rost6v who married Na- 
taly Shinshina," said Anna Mikhaylovna. 

"I know, I know," answered Prince Vasili in 
his monotonous voice. "I never could under- 
stand how Nataly made up her mind to marry 
that unlicked bear! A perfectly absurd and 
stupid fellow, and a gambler too, I am told." 

"But a very kind man, Prince," said Anna 
Mikhaylovna with a pathetic smile, as though 
she too knew that Count Rost6v deserved this 
censure, but asked him not to be too hard on 
the poor old man. "What do the doctors say?" 
asked the princess after a pause, her worn face 
again expressing deep sorrow. 

"They give little hope," replied the prince. 

"And I should so like to thank Uncle once 
for all his kindness to me and Boris. He is his 
godson," she added, her tone suggesting that 
this fact ought to give Prince Vasili much satis- 
faction. 

Prince Vasili became thoughtful and 
frowned. Anna Mikhdylovna saw that he was 
afraid of finding in her a rival for Count Be- 
zukhov's fortune, and hastened to reassure him. 

"If it were not for my sincere affection and 
devotion to Uncle" said she, uttering the word 
with peculiar assurance and unconcern, "I 
know his character: noble, upright . . . but you 
see he has no one with him except the young 
princesses. . . . They are still young. . . ." She 
bent her head and continued in a whisper: 
"Has he performed his final duty, Prince? How 
priceless are those last moments! It can make 
things no worse, and it is absolutely necessary 
to prepare him if he is so ill. We women, Prince," 
and she smiled tenderly, "always know how to 
say these things. I absolutely must see him, 
however painful it may be for me. I am used to 
suffering." 

Evidently the prince understood her, and al- 
so understood, as he had done at Anna Pdvlov- 



na's, that it would be difficult to get rid of Anna 
Mikhlylovna. 

"Would not such a meeting be too trying for 
him, dear Anna Mikhdylovna?" said he. "Let 
us wait until evening. The doctors are expect- 
ing a crisis." 

"But one cannot delay, Prince, at such a mo- 
ment! Consider that the welfare of his soul is 
at stake. Ah, it is awful: the duties of a Chris- 
tian . . ." 

A door of one of the inner rooms opened and 
one of the princesses, the count's niece, entered 
with a cold, stern face. The length of her body 
was strikingly out of proportion to her short 
legs. Prince Vasili turned to her. 

"Well, how is he?" 

"Still the same; but what can you expect, this 
noise . . ." said the princess, looking at Anna 
Mikhlylovna as at a stranger. 

"Ah, my dear, I hardly knew you," said Anna 
Mikhdylovna with a happy smile, ambling 
lightly up to the count's niece. "I have come, 
and am at your service to help you nurse my 
uncle. I imagine what you have gone through," 
and she sympathetically turned up her eyes. 

The princess gave no reply and did not even 
smile, but left the room at once. Anna Mikhay- 
lovna took off her gloves and, occupying the 
position she had conquered, settled down in an 
armchair, inviting Prince Vasfli to take a seat 
beside her. 

"Boris," she said to her son with a smile, "I 
shall go in to see the count, my uncle; but you, 
my dear, had better go to Pierre meanwhile and 
don't forget to give him the Rost6vs' invita- 
tion. They ask him to dinner. I suppose he 
won't go?" she continued, turning to the prince. 

"On the contrary," replied the prince, who 
had plainly become depressed, "I shall be only 
too glad if you relieve me of that young man. 
. . . Here he is, and the count has not once 
asked for him." 

He shrugged his shoulders. A footman con- 
ducted Boris down one flight of stairs and up 
another, to Pierre's rooms. 

CHAPTER XVI 

PIERRE, after all, had not managed to choose a 
career for himself in Petersburg, and had been 
expelled from there for riotous conduct and 
sent to Moscow. The story told about him at 
Count Rost6v's was true. Pierre had taken part 
in tying a policeman to a bear. He had now 
been for some days in Moscow and was staying 
as usual at his father's house. Though he ex- 
pected that the story of his escapade would be 



WAR AND PEACE 



already known in Moscow and that the ladies 
about his father who were never favorably 
disposed toward him would have used it to 
turn the count against him, he nevertheless on 
the day of his arrival went to his father's part 
of the house. Entering the drawing room, where 
the princesses spent most of their time, he 
greeted the ladies, two of whom were sitting at 
embroidery frames while a third read aloud. It 
was the eldest who was reading the one who 
had met Anna Mikhdylovna. The two younger 
ones were embroidering: both were rosy and 
pretty and they differed only in that one had a 
little mole on her lip which made her much 
prettier. Pierre was received as if he were a 
corpse or a leper. The eldest princess paused 
in her reading and silently stared at him with 
frightened eyes; the second assumed precisely 
the same expression; while the youngest, the 
one with the mole, who was of a cheerful and 
lively disposition, bent over her frame to hide 
a smile probably evoked by the amusing scene 
she foresaw. She drew her wool down through 
the canvas and, scarcely able to refrain from 
laughing, stooped as if trying to make out the 
pattern. 

"How do you do, cousin?" said Pierre. "You 
don't recognize me?" 

"I recognize you only too well, too well." 

"How is the count? Can I see him?" asked 
Pierre, awkwardly as usual, but unabashed. 

"The count is suffering physically and men- 
tally, and apparently you have done your best 
to increase his mental sufferings." 

"Can I see the count?" Pierre again asked. 

"Hm If you wish to kill him, to kill him 

outright, you can see him . . . Olga, go and see 
whether Uncle's beef tea is ready it is almost 
time," she added, giving Pierre to understand 
that they were busy, and busy making his fa- 
ther comfortable, while evidently he, Pierre, 
was only busy causing him annoyance. 

Olga went out. Pierre stood looking at the 
sisters; then he bowed and said: "Then I will 
go to my rooms. You will let me know when I 
can see him." 

And he left the room, followed by the low 
but ringing laughter of the sister with the mole. 

Next day Prince Vasili had arrived and set- 
tled in the count's house. He sent for Pierre 
and said to him: "My dear fellow, if you are 
going to behave here as you did in Petersburg, 
you will end very badly; that is all I have to say 
to you. The count is very, very ill, and you 
must not see him at all." 

Since then Pierre had not been disturbed 



and had spent the whole time in his rooms up- 
stairs. c 

When Boris appeared at his door Pierre was 
pacing up and down his room, stopping occa- 
sionally at a corner to make menacing gestures 
at the wall, as if running a sword through an 
invisible foe, and glaring savagely over his 
spectacles, and then again resuming his walk, 
muttering indistinct words, shrugging his 
shoulders and gesticulating. 

"England is done for," said he, scowling and 
pointing his finger at someone unseen. "Mr. 
Pitt, as a traitor to the nation and to the rights 
of man, is sentenced to . . ." But before Pierre 
who at that moment imagined himself to be 
Napoleon in person and to have just effected 
the dangerous crossing of the Straits of Dover 
and captured London could pronounce Pitt's 
sentence, he saw a well-built and handsome 
young officer entering his room. Pierre paused. 
He had left Moscow when Boris was a boy 01 
fourteen, and had quite forgotten him, but in 
his usual impulsive and hearty way he took 
Boris by the hand with a friendly smile. 

"Do you remember me?" asked Boris quietly 
with a pleasant smile. "I have come with my 
mother to see the count, but it seems he is not 
well." 

"Yes, it seems he is ill. People are always dis- 
turbing him," answered Pierre, trying to re- 
member who this young man was. 

Boris felt that Pierre did not recognize him 
but did not consider it necessary to introduce 
himself, and without experiencing the least em- 
barrassment looked Pierre straight in the face. 

"Count Rostov asks you to come to dinner 
today," said he, after a considerable pause which 
made Pierre feel uncomfortable. 

"Ah, Count Rostov 1" exclaimed Pierre joy- 
fully. "Then you are his son, Ilyd?Only fancy,! 
didn't know you at first. Do you remember how 
we went to the Sparrow Hills with Madame 
Jacquot? . . . It's such an age ..." 

"You are mistaken," said Boris deliberately, 
with a bold and slightly sarcastic smile. "I am 
Boris, son of Princess Anna Mikh&ylovna Dru- 
betskdya. Rost6v, the father, is Ilya, and his 
son is Nicholas. I never knew any Madame Jac- 
quot." 

Pierre shook his head and arms as if attacked 
by mosquitoes or bees. 

"Oh dear, what am I thinking about? I've 
mixed every thing up. One has so many relatives 
in Moscow I So you are Boris? Of course. Well, 
now we know where we are. And what do you 
think of the Boulogne expedition? The English 



BOOK ONE 



will come off badly, you know, if Napoleon gets 
across the Channel. I think the expedition is 
quite feasible. If only Villeneuve doesn't make 
a mess of things!" 

Boris knew nothing about the Boulogne ex- 
pedition; he did not read the papers and it was 
the first time he had heard Villeneuve's name. 

"We here in Moscow are more occupied with 
dinner parties and scandal than with politics," 
said he in his quiet ironical tone. "I know noth- 
ing about it and have not thought about it. 
Moscow is chiefly busy with gossip," he contin- 
ued. "Just now they are talking about you and 
your father." 

Pierre smiled in his good-natured way as if 
afraid for his companion's sake that the latter 
might say something he would afterwards re- 
gret. But Boris spoke distinctly, clearly, and dry- 
ly, looking straight into Pierre's eyes. 

"Moscow has nothing else to do but gossip," 
Boris went on. "Everybody is wondering to 
whom the count will leave his fortune, though 
he may perhaps outlive us all, as I sincerely 
hope he will ..." 

"Yes, it is all very horrid," interrupted 
Pierre, "very horrid." 

Pierre was still afraid that this officer might 
inadvertently say something disconcerting to 
himself. 

"And it must seem to you," said Boris flush- 
ing slightly, but not changing his tone or atti- 
tude, "it must seem to you that everyone is try- 
ing to get something out of the rich man?" 

"So it does," thought Pierre. 

"But I just wish to say, to avoid misunder- 
standings, that you are quite mistaken if you 
reckon me or my mother among such people. 
We are very poor, but for my own part at any 
rate, for the very reason that your father is rich, 
I don't regard myself as a relation of his, and 
neither I nor my mother would ever ask or take 
anything from him." 

For a long time Pierre could not understand, 
but when he did, he jumped up from the sofa, 
seized Boris under the el bow in his quick, clum- 
sy way, and, blushing far more than Boris, be- 
gan to speak with a feeling of mingled shame 
and vexation. 

"Well, this is strange! Do you suppose I ... 
who could think? ... I know very well . . ." 

But Boris again interrupted him. 

"I am glad I have spoken out fully. Perhaps 
you did not like it? You must excuse me," said 
he, putting Pierre at ease instead of being put 
at ease by him, "but I hope I have not offended 
you. I always make it a rule to speak out. . . . 



Well, what answer am I to take? Will you come 
to dinner at the Rostrivs'?" 

And Boris, having apparently relieved him- 
self of an onerous duty and extricated himself 
from an awkward situation and placed another 
in it, became quite pleasant again. 

"No, but I say," said Pierre, calming down, 
"you are a wonderful fellowl What you have 
just said is good, very good. Of course you don't 
know me. We have not met for such a long 
time . . . not since we were children. You might 
think that I ... I understand, quite understand. 
I could not have done it myself, I should not 
have had the courage, but it's splendid. I am 
very glad to have made your acquaintance. It's 
queer," he added a f ter a pause, "that you should 
have suspected me!" He began to laugh. "Well, 
what of it! I hope we'll get better acquainted," 
and he pressed Boris' hand. "Do you know, I 
have not once been in to see the count. He has 

not sent forme I am sorry for him as a man, 

but what can one do?" 

"And so you think Napoleon will manage to 
get an army across?" asked Boris with a smile. 

Pierre saw that Boris wished to change the 
subject, and being of the same mind he began 
explaining the advantages and disadvantages 
of the Boulogne expedition. 

A footman came in to summon Boris the 
princess was going. Pierre, in order to make 
Boris' better acquaintance, promised to come 
to dinner, and warmly pressing his hand looked 
affectionately over his spectacles into Boris* 
eyes. After he had gone Pierre continued pac- 
ing up and down" the room for a long time, no 
longer piercing an imaginary foe with his im- 
aginary sword, but smiling at the remembrance 
of that pleasant, intelligent, and resoluteyoung 
man. 

J As often happens in early youth, especially 
to one who leads a lonely life, he felt an unac- 
countable tenderness for this young man and 
made up his mind that they would be friends. 

Prince Vasili saw the princess off. She held a 
handkerchief to her eyes and her face was tear- 
ful. 

"It is dreadful, dreadful!" she was saying, 
"but cost me what it may I shall do my duty. I 
will come and spend the night. He must not be 
left like this. Every moment is precious. I can't 
think why his nieces put it off. Perhaps God 
will help me to find a way to prepare him I . . . 
Adieu, Prince! May God support you . . ." 

"Adieu, ma bonne/' answered Prince Vasili 
turning away from her. 

"Oh, he is in a dreadful state," said the moth- 



3 o WAR AND PEACE 

er to her son when they were in the carriage. 
"He hardly recognizes anybody." 

"I don't understand, Mamma what is his at- 
titude to Pierre?" asked the son. 

"The will will show that, my dear; our fate 
also depends on it." 

"But why do you expect that he will leave us 
anything?" 

"Ah, my dear! He is so rich, and we are so 
poor!" 

"Well, that is hardly a sufficient reason, 
Mamma . . ." 

"Oh, Heaven! How ill he is!" exclaimed the 
mother. 



CHAPTER XVII 

AFTER ANNA MIKHAYLOVNA had driven off with 
her son to visit Count Cyril Vladfmirovich Be- 
ziikhov, Countess Rost6va sat for a long time 
all alone applying her handkerchief to her eyes. 
At last she rang. 

"What is the matter with you, my dear?" she 
said crossly to the maid who kept her waiting 
some minutes. "Don't you wish to serve me? 
Then I'll find you another place." 

The countess was upset by her friend's sor- 
row and humiliating poverty, and was there- 
fore out of sorts, a state of mind which with her 
always found expression in calling her maid 
"my dear" and speaking to her with exaggerat- 
ed politeness. 

"I am very sorry, ma'am," answered the maid. 

"Ask the count to come to me." 

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

"Well, little countess? What a saute of game 
au madere we are to have, my dear! I tasted it. 
The thousand rubles I paid for Taras were not 
ill-spent. He is worth it!" 

He sat down by his wife, his elbows on his 
knees and his hands ruffling his gray hair. 

"What are your commands, little countess?" 

"You see, my dear . . . What's that mess?" 
she said, pointing to his waistcoat. "It's the 
saute, most likely," she added with a smile. 
"Well, you see, Count, I want some money." 

Her face became sad. 

"Oh, little countess!" . . . and the count be- 
gan bustling to get out his pocketbook. 

"I want a great deal, Count! I want five hun- 
dred rubles," and taking out her cambric hand- 
kerchief she began wiping her husband's waist- 
coat. 

"Yes, immediately, immediately! Hey, who's 
there?" he called out in a tone only used by 
persons who are certain that those they call 



will rvsh to obey the summons. "Send Dmitri 
to me!" 

Dmitri, a man of good family who had been 
brought up in the count's house and now man- 
aged all his affairs, stepped softly into the room. 

"This is what I want, my dear fellow," said 
the count to the deferential young man who 
had entered. "Bring me . . ." he reflected a mo- 
ment, "yes, bring me seven hundred rubles, yes! 
But mind, don't bring me such tattered and 
dirty notes as last time, but nice clean ones for 
the countess." 

"Yes, Dmitri, clean ones, please," said the 
countess, sighing deeply. 

"When would you like them, your excellen- 
cy?" asked Dmitri. "Allow me to inform you 
. . . But, don't be uneasy," he added, noticing 
that the count was beginning to breathe heav- 
ily and quickly which was always a sign of ap- 
proaching anger. "I was forgetting ... Do you 
wish it brought at once?" 

"Yes, yes; just so! Bring it. Give it to the 
countess." 

"What a treasure that Dmftri is," added the 
count with a smile when the young man had 
departed. "There is never any 'impossible' 
with him. That's a thing I hate! Everything is 
possible." 

"Ah, money, Count, money! How much sor- 
row it causes in the world," said the countess. 
"But I am in great need of this sum." 

"You, my little countess, are a notorious 
spendthrift," said the count, and having kissed 
his wife's hand he went back to his study. 

When Anna Mikhaylovna returned from 
Count Bezukhov's the money, all in clean notes, 
was lying ready under a handkerchief on the 
countess' little table, and Anna Mikhaylovna 
noticed that something was agitating her. 

"Well, my dear?" asked the countess. 

"Oh, what a terrible state he is in! One 
would not know him, he is so ill! I was only 
there a few moments and hardly said a 
word . . ." 

"Annette, for heaven's sake don't refuse me," 
the countess began, with a blush that looked 
very strange on her thin, dignified, elderly face, 
and she took the money from under the hand- 
kerchief. 

Anna Mikhaylovna instantly guessed her in- 
tention and stooped to be ready to embrace the 
countess at the appropriate moment. 

"This is for Boris from me, for his outfit." 

Anna Mikhdylovna was already embracing 
her and weeping. The countess wept too. They 
wept because they were friends, and because 



BOOK ONE 



they were kindhearted, and because t they 
friends from childhood had to think about 
such a base thing as money, and because their 
youth was over. . . . But those tears were pleas- 
ant to them both. 

CHAPTER XVIII 

COUNTESS ROSTOVA, with her daughters and a 
large number of guests, was already seated in 
the drawing room. The count took the gentle- 
men into his study and showed them his choice 
collection of Turkish pipes. From time to time 
he went out to ask: "Hasn't she come yet?" 
They were expecting Mdrya Dmf trievna Akhro- 
simova, known in society as le terrible dragon, 
a lady distinguished not for wealth or rank, 
but for common sense and frank plainness of 
speech. Mdrya Dmitrievna was known to the 
Imperial family as well as to all Moscow and 
Petersburg, and both cities wondered at her, 
laughed privately at her rudenesses, and told 
good stories about her, while none the less all 
without exception respected and feared her. 

In the count's room, which was full of tobac- 
co smoke, they talked of the war that had been 
announced in a manifesto, and about the re- 
cruiting. None of them had yet seen the man- 
ifesto, but they all knew it had appeared. The 
count sat on the sofa between two guests who 
were smoking and talking. He neither smoked 
nor talked, but bending his head first to one 
side and then to the other watched the smok- 
ers with evident pleasure and listened to the 
conversation of his two neighbors, whom he 
egged on against each other. 

One of them was a sallow, clean-shaven ci- 
vilian with a thin and wrinkled face, already 
growing old, though he was dressed like a most 
fashionable young man. He sat with his legs up 
on the sofa as if quite at home and, having 
stuck an amber mouthpiece far into his mouth, 
was inhaling the smoke spasmodically and 
screwing up his eyes. This was an old bachelor, 
Shinshfn, a cousin of the countess', a man with 
"a sharp tongue" as they said in Moscow soci- 
ety. He seemed to be condescending to his com- 
panion* The latter, a fresh, rosy officer of the 
Guards, irreproachably washed, brushed, and 
buttoned, held his pipe in the middle of his 
mouth and with red lips gently inhaled the 
smoke, letting it escape from his handsome 
mouth in rings. This was Lieutenant Berg, an 
officer in the Semenov regiment with whom 
Borfs was to travel to join the army, and about 
whom Natdsha had teased her elder sister Ye* ra, 
speaking of Berg as her "intended." The count 



sat between them and listened attentively. His 
favorite occupation when not playing boston, 
a card game he was very fond of, was that of 
listener, especially when he succeeded in set- 
ting two loquacious talkers at one another. 

"Well, then, old chap, mon tres honorable 
Alphonse Kdrlovich," said Shinshfn, laughing 
ironically and mixing the most ordinary Rus- 
sian expressions with the choicest French 
phrases which was a peculiarity of his speech. 
"Vous comptez vous faire des rentes sur Vttat;* 
you want to make something out of your com- 
pany?" 

"No, Peter Nikoldevich; I only want to show 
that in the cavalry the advantages are far less 
than in the infantry. Just consider my own po- 
sition now, Peter Nikoldevich . . ." 

Berg always spoke quietly, politely, and with 
great precision. His conversation always re- 
lated entirely to himself; he would remain calm 
and silent when the talk related to any topic 
that had no direct bearingon himself. He could 
remain silent for hours without being at all put 
out of countenance himself or making others 
uncomfortable, but as soon as the conversa- 
tion concerned himself he would begin to talk 
circumstantially and with evident satisfaction. 

"Consider my position, Peter Nikoldevich. 
Were I in the cavalry I should get not more 
than two hundred rubles every four months, 
even with the rank of lieutenant; but as it is I 
receive two hundred and thirty," said he, look- 
ing at Shinshfn and the count with a joyful, 
pleasant smile, as if it were obvious to him that 
his success must always be the chief desire of 
everyone else. 

"Besides that, Peter NikoMevich, by ex- 
changing into the Guards I shall be in a more 
prominent position," continued Berg, "and 
vacancies occur much more frequently in the 
Foot Guards. Then just think what can be done 
with two hundred and thirty rubles! I even 
manage to put a little aside and to send some- 
thing to my father," he went on, emitting a 
smoke ring. 

"La balance y est a A German knows how 

to skin a flint, as the proverb says," remarked 
Shinshfn, moving his pipe to the other side of 
his mouth and winking at the count. 

The count burst out laughing. The other 
guests seeing that Shinshfn was talking came 
up to listen. Berg, oblivious of irony or indif- 
ference, continued to explain how by exchang- 

1 You expect to make an income out of the gov- 
ernment. 
1 So that squares matters. 



WAR AND PEACE 



ing into the Guards he had already gained a 
step on his old comrades of the Cadet Corps; 
how in wartime the company commander might 
get killed and he, as senior in the company, 
might easily succeed to the post; how popular 
he was with everyone in the regiment, and how 
satisfied his father was with him. Berg evident- 
ly enjoyed narrating all this, and did not seem 
to suspect that others, too, might have their 
own interests. But all he said was so prettily se- 
date, and the naivete* of his youthful egotism 
was so obvious, that he disarmed his hearers. 

"Well, my boy, you'll get along wherever you 
go foot or horse that I'll warrant," said Shin- 
shin, patting him on the shoulder and taking 
his feet off the sofa. 

Berg smiled joyously. The count, followed 
by his guests, went into the drawing room. 

It was just the moment before a big dinner 
when the assembled guests, expecting the sum- 
mons to zakuska* avoid engaging in any long 
conversation but think it necessary to move 
about and talk, in order to show that they are 
not at all impatient for their food. The host 
and hostess look toward the door, and now and 
then glance at one another, and the visitors try 
to guess from these glances who, or what, they 
are waiting for some important relation who 
has not yet arrived, or a dish that is not yet 
ready. 

Pierre had come just at dinnertime and was 
sitting awkwardly in the middle of the drawing 
room on the first chair he had come across, 
blocking the way for everyone. The countess 
tried to make him talk, but he went on naively 
looking around through his spectacles as if in 
search of somebody and answered all her ques- 
tions in monosyllables. He was in the way and 
was the only one who did not notice the fact. 
Most of the guests, knowing of the affair with 
the bear, looked with curiosity at this big, stout, 
quiet man, wondering how such a clumsy, mod- 
est fellow could have played such a prank on a 
policeman. 

"You have only lately arrived?" the countess 
asked him. 

"Out, madame" replied he, looking around 
him. 

"You have not yet seen my husband?" 

"Non, madame." He smiled quite inappro- 
priately. 

"You have been in Paris recently, I believe? 
I suppose it's very interesting." 

"Very interesting." 

1 Hors d'oeuvres. 



Ths countess exchanged glances with Anna 
Mikhdylovna. The latter understood that she 
was being asked to entertain this young man, 
and sitting down beside him she began to speak 
about his father; but he answered her, as he had 
the countess, only in monosyllables. The other 
guests were all conversing with one another. 
"The Razum6vskis . . . It was charming . . . You 
are very kind . . . Countess Aprdksina . . ." was 
heard on all sides. The countess rose and went 
into the ballroom. 

"Mirya Dmitrievna?" came her voice from 
there. 

"Herself," came the answer in a rough voice, 
and Mrya Dmitrievna entered the room. 

All the unmarried ladies and even the mar- 
ried ones except the very oldest rose. Mdrya 
Dmitrievna paused at the door. Tall and stout, 
holding high her fifty-year-old head with its 
gray curls, she stood surveying the guests, and 
leisurely arranged her wide sleeves as if rolling 
them up. Mdrya Dmitrievna always spoke in 
Russian. 

"Health and happiness to her whose name 
day we are keeping and to her children," she 
said, in her loud, full-toned voice which 
drowned all others. "Well, you old sinner," she 
went on, turning to the count who was kissing 
her hand, "you're feeling dull in Moscow, I 
daresay? Nowhere to hunt with your dogs? But 
what is to be done, old man? Just see how these 
nestlings are growing up," and she pointed to 
the girls. "You must look for husbands for them 
whether you like it or not. . . ." 

"Well," said she, "how's my Cossack?" 
(Mdrya Dmitrievna always tailed Natdsha a 
Cossack) and she stroked the child's arm as she 
came up fearless and gay to kiss her hand. "I 
know she's a scamp of a girl, but I like her." 

She took a pair of pear-shaped ruby earrings 
from her huge reticule and, having given them 
to the rosy Natdsha, who beamed with the pleas- 
ure of her saint's-day fete, turned away at once 
and addressed herself to Pierre. 

"Eh, eh, friendl Come here a bit," said she, 
assuming a soft high tone of voice. "Come here, 
my friend . . ." and she ominously tucked up 
her sleeves still higher. Pierre approached, look- 
ing at her in a childlike way through his spec- 
tacles. 

"Come nearer, come nearer, friendl I used to 
be the only one to tell your father the truth 
when he was in favor, and in your case it's my 
evident duty." She paused. All were silent, ex- 
pectant of what was to follow, for this was 
clearly only a prelude. 



BOOK ONE 



33 



"A fine lad! My wordl A fine lad! . . . f His fa- 
ther lies on his deathbed and he amuses him- 
self setting a policeman astride a bear! For 
shame, sir, for shame! It would be better if you 
went to the war." 

She turned away and gave her hand to the 
count, who could hardly keep from laughing. 

"Well, I suppose it is time we were at table?" 
said Mdrya Dmftrievna. 

The count went in first with Mdrya Dmftriev- 
na, the countess followed on the arm of a colo- 
nel of hussars, a man of importance to them be- 
cause Nicholas was to go with him to the regi- 
ment; then came Anna Mikhdylovna with 
Shinshfn. Berg gave his arm to Vcra. The smil- 
ing Julie Karagina went in with Nicholas. Aft- 
er them other couples followed, filling the 
whole dining hall, and last of all the children, 
tutors, and governesses followed singly. The 
footmen began moving about, chairs scraped, 
the band struck up in the gallery, and the guests 
settled down in their places. Then the strains 
of the count's household band were replaced 
by the clatter of knives and forks, the voices of 
visitors, and the soft steps of the footmen. At 
one end of the table sat the countess with Mdrya 
Dmitrievna on her right and Anna Mikhaylov- 
na on her left, the other lady visitors were far- 
ther down. At the other end sat the count, with 
the hussar colonel on his left and Shinshin and 
the other male visitors on his right. Midway 
down the long table on one side sat the grown- 
up young people: Ve"ra beside Berg, and Pierre 
beside Boris; and on the other side the children, 
tutors, and governesses. From behind the crys- 
tal decanters and fruit vases the count kept 
glancing at his wife and her tall cap with its 
light-blue ribbons, and busily filled his neigh- 
bors' glasses, not neglecting his own. The count- 
ess in turn, without omitting her duties as host- 
ess, threw significant glances from behind the 
pineapples at her husband whose face and bald 
head seemed by their redness to contrast more 
than usual with his gray hair. At the ladies' end 
an even chatter of voices was heard all the 
time, at the men's end the voices sounded loud- 
er and louder, especially that of the colonel of 
hussars who, growing more and more flushed, 
ate and drank so much that the count held him 
up as a pattern to the other guests. Berg with 
tender smiles was saying toVe*ra that love is not 
an earthly but a heavenly feeling. Borfs was 
tellinghis new friend Pierre who the guests were 
and exchanging glances with Natdsha, who was 
sitting opposite. Pierre spoke little but exam- 
ined the new faces, and ate a great deal. Of the 



two soups he chose turtle with savory patties 
and went on to the game without omitting a 
single dish or one of the wines. These latter 
the butler thrust mysteriously forward, wrapped 
in a napkin, from behind the next man's 
shoulders and whispered: "Dry Madeira" . . . 
"Hungarian" ... or "Rhine wine" as the case 
might be. Of the four crystal glasses engraved 
with the count's monogram that stood before 
his plate, Pierre held out one at random and 
drank with en joyment, gazing with ever-increas- 
ing amiability at the other guests. Natsha,who 
sat opposite, was looking at Borfs as girls of 
thirteen look at the boy they are in love with 
and have just kissed for the first time. Some- 
times that same look fell on Pierre, and that 
funny lively little girl's look made him inclined 
to laugh without knowing why. 

Nicholas sat at some distance from S6nya, be- 
side Jujie Karagina, to whom he was again talk- 
ing with the same involuntary smile. S6nya 
wore a company smile but was evidently tor- 
mented by jealousy; now she turned pale, now 
blushed and strained every nerve to over- 
hear what Nicholas and Julie were saying to 
one another. The governess kept look ing round 
uneasily as if preparing to resent any slight 
that might be put upon the children. The Ger- 
man tutor was trying to remember all the dish- 
es, wines, and kinds of dessert, in order to send 
a full description of the dinner to his people in 
Germany; and he felt greatly offended when 
the butler with a bottle wrapped in a napkin 
passed him by. He frowned, trying to appear as 
if he did not want any of that wine, but was 
mortified because no one would understand 
that it was not to quench his thirst or from 
greediness that he wanted it, but simply from a 
conscientious desire for knowledge. 

CHAPTER XIX 

AT THE MEN'S end of the table the talk grew 
more and more animated. The colonel told 
them that the declaration of war had already 
appeared in Petersburg and that a copy, which 
he had himself seen, had that day been for- 
warded by courier to the commander in 
chief. 

"And why the deuce are we going to fight 
Bonaparte?" remarked Shinshfn. "He has 
stopped Austria's cackle and I fear it will be 
our turn next." 

The colonel was a stout, tall, plethoric Ger- 
man, evidently devoted to the service and pa- 
triotically Russian. He resented Shinshfn's re- 
mark. 



34 



WAR AND PEACE 



"It is for the reasson, my goot sir," said he, 
speaking with a German accent, "for the reas- 
son zat ze Emperor knows zat. He declares in ze 
manifessto zat he cannot fiew wiz indifference 
ze danger vreatening Russia and zat ze safety 
and dignity of ze Empire as veil as ze sanctity 
of its alliances . . ." he spoke this last word with 
particular emphasis as if in it lay the gist of the 
matter. 

Then with the unerring official memory that 
characterized him he repeated from the open- 
ing words of the manifesto: 

. . . and the wish, which constitutes the Em- 
peror's sole and absolute aim to establish peace 
in Europe on firm foundations has now de- 
cided him to despatch part of the army abroad 
and to create a new condition for the attain- 
ment of that purpose. 

"Zat, my dear sir, is vy ..." he concluded, 
drinking a tumbler of wine with digijity and 
looking to the count for approval. 

"Connaissez-vous le proverbe: l 'Jerome, Je- 
rome, do not roam, but turn spindles at 
home!'?" said Shinshfn, puckering his brows 
and smiling. "Cela nous convient a merveille* 
Suv6rov now he knew what he was about; yet 
they beat him & plate couture? and where are 
we to find Suv6rovs now? Je vous demande un 
peu"' said he, continually changing from 
French to Russian. 

"Ve must vight to the last tr-r-op of our 
ploodl" said the colonel, thumping the table; 
"and ve must tie for our Emperor, and zen all 
vill pe veil. And ve must discuss it as little as 
po-o-ossible" ... he dwelt particularly on the 
word possible . . . "as po-o-ossible," he ended, 
again turning to the count. "Zat is how ve old 
hussars look at it, and zere's an end of it! And 
how do you, a young man and a young hussar, 
how do you judge of it?" he added, addressing 
Nicholas, who when he heard that the war was 
being discussed had turned from his partner 
with eyes and ears intent on the colonel. 

"I am quite of your opinion," replied Nicho- 
las, flaming up, turning his plate round and 
moving his wineglasses about with as much de- 
cision and desperation as though he were at 
that moment facing some great danger. "J am 
convinced that we Russians must die or con- 
quer," he concluded, conscious as were oth- 
ersafter the words were uttered that his re- 
marks were too enthusiastic and emphatic for 

1 Do you know the proverb ? 

1 That suits us down to the ground. 

Hollow. 

* I just aak you that. 



the occasion and were therefore awkward. 

"Wliat you said just now was splendid!" said 
his partner Julie. 

Sonya trembled all over and blushed to her 
ears and behind them and down to her neck 
and shoulders while Nicholas was speaking. 

Pierre listened to the colonel's speech and 
nodded approvingly. 

"That's fine," said he. 

"The young man's a real hussar!" shouted 
the colonel, again thumping the table. 

"What are you making such a noise about 
over there?" Mdrya Dmftrievna's deep voice 
suddenly inquired from the other end of the 
table. "What are you thumping the table for?" 
she demanded of the hussar, "and why are you 
exciting yourself? Do you think the French are 
here?" 

"I am speaking ze truce," replied the hussar 
with a smile. 

"It's all about the war," the count shouted 
down the table. "You know my son's going, 
Mdrya Dmftrievna? My son is going." 

"I have four sons in the army but still I don't 
fret. It is all in God's hands. You may die in 
your bed or God may spare you in a battle," re- 
plied Mdrya Dmftrievna's deep voice, which 
easily carried the whole length of the table. 

"That's true!" 

Once more the conversations concentrated, 
the ladies' at the one end and the men's at the 
other. 

"You won't ask," Natasha's little brother was 
saying; "I know you won't ask!" 

"I will," replied Nat&sha. 

Her face suddenly flushed with reckless and 
joyous resolution. She half rose, by a glance in- 
viting Pierre, who sat opposite, to listen to what 
was coming, and turning to her mother: 

"Mammal" rang out the clear contralto notes 
of Her childish voice, audible the whole length 
of the table. 

"What is it?" asked the countess, startled; 
but seeing by her daughter's face that it was on- 
ly mischief, she shook a finger at her sternly 
with a threatening and forbidding movement 
of her head. 

The conversation was hushed. 

"Mammal What sweets are we going to 
have?" and Natasha's voice sounded still more 
firm and resolute. 

The countess tried to frown, but could not. 
Mdrya Dmf trievna shook her fat finger. 

"Cossack!" she said threateningly. 

Most of the guests, uncertain how to regard 
this sally, looked at the elders. 



BOOK ONE 



35 



"You had better take care! "said thecountess. 

"Mamma! What sweets are we going to 
have?" Natdsha again cried boldly, with saucy 
gaiety, confident that her prank would betaken 
in good part. 

S6nya and fat little Ptya doubled up with 
laughter. 

"You see! I have asked," whispered Natisha 
to her little brother and to Pierre, glancing at 
him again. 

"Ice pudding, but you won't get any," said 
Mdrya Dmftrievna. 

Natasha saw there was nothing to be afraid 
of and so she braved even Mdrya Dmitrievna. 

"Mrya Dmitrievna! What kind of ice pud- 
ding? I don't like ice cream." 

"Carrot ices." 

"No! What kind, Mdrya Dmftrievna? What 
kind?" she almost screamed; "I want to know!" 

Marya Dmftrievna and the countess burst 
out laughing, and all the guests joined in. Ev- 
eryone laughed, not at Marya Dmitrievna's an- 
swer but at the incredible boldness and smart- 
ness of this little girl who had dared to treat 
Marya Dmftrievna in this fashion. 

Natasha only desisted when she had been told 
that there would be pineapple ice. Before the 
ices, champagne was served round. The band 
again struck up, the count and countess kissed, 
and the guests, leaving their seats, went up to 
"congratulate" the countess, and reached 
across the table to clink glasses with the count, 
with the children, and with one another. Again 
the footmen rushed about, chairs scraped, and 
in the same order in which they had entered 
but with redder faces, the guests returned to 
the drawing room and to the count's study. 

CHAPTER XX 

THE CARD TABLES were drawn out, sets made 
up for boston, and the count's visitors settled 
themselves, some in the two drawing rooms, 
some in the sitting room, some in the library. 

The count, holding his cards fanwise, kept 
himself with difficulty from dropping into his 
usual after-dinner nap, and laughed at every- 
thing. The young people, at the countess* in- 
stigation, gathered round the clavichord and 
harp. Julie by general request played first. Aft- 
er she had played a little air with variations on 
the harp, she joined the other young ladies in 
begging Natasha and Nicholas, who were noted 
for their musical talent, to sing something. 
Natdsha, who wa% treated as though she were 
grown up, was evidently very proud of this but 
at the same time felt shy. 



"What shall we sing?" she said. 

" 'The Brook,' " suggested Nicholas. 

"Well, then, let's be quick. Boris, come here," 
said Natisha. "But where is S6nya?" 

She looked round and seeing that her friend 
was not in the room ran to look for her. 

Running into S6nya's room and not finding 
her there, Natdsha ran to the nursery, but S6n- 
yawas not there either. Natdsha concluded that 
she must be on the chest in the passage. The 
chest in the passage was the place of mourning 
for the younger female generation in the Ros- 
tov household. And there in fact was S6nya ly- 
ing face downward on Nurse's dirty feather 
bed on the top of the chest, crumpling her gau- 
zy pink dress under her, hiding her face with 
her slender fingers, and sobbing so convulsively 
that her bare little shoulders shook. Natasha's 
face, which had been so radiantly happy all 
that saint's day, suddenly changed: her eyes be- 
came fixed, and then a shiver passed down her 
broad neck and the corners of her mouth 
drooped. 

"S6nya! What is it? What is the matter? . . . 
Oo . . . Oo . . . Oo ... 1" And Natasha's large 
mouth widened, making her look quite ugly, 
and she began to wail like a baby without know- 
ing why, except that S6nya was crying. Sonya 
tried to lift her head to answer but could not, 
and hid her face still deeper in the bed. Nata- 
sha wept, sitting on the blue-striped feather 
bed and hugging her friend. With an effort 
S6nya sat up and began wiping her eyes and 
explaining. 

"Nicholas is going away in a week's time, his 
. . . papers . . . have come ... he told me him- 
self . . . but still I should not cry," and she 
showed a paper she held in her handwith the 
verses Nicholas had written, "still, I should not 
cry, but you can't ... no one can understand 
. . . what a soul he has!" 

And she began to cry again because he had 
such a noble soul. 

"It's all very well for you ... I am not envi- 
ous ... I love you and Boris also," she went on, 
gaining a little strength; "he is nice . . . there 

are no difficulties in yourway But Nicholas 

is my cousin . . . one would have to ... the 
Metropolitan himself . . . and even then it can't 
be done. And besides, if she tells Mamma" 
(S6nya looked upon the countess as her moth- 
er and called her so) "that I am spoiling 
Nicholas* career and am heartless and ungrate- 
ful, while truly . . . God is my witness," and 
she made the sign of the cross, "I love her so 
much, and all of you, only V^ra . . . And what 



WAR AND PEACE 



for? What have I done to her? I am so grateful 
to you that I would willingly sacrifice every- 
thing, only I have nothing " 

S6nya could not continue, and again hid her 
face in her hands and in the feather bed. Nata- 
sha began consoling her, but her face showed 
that she understood all the gravity of her 
friend's trouble. 

"S6nya," she suddenly exclaimed, as if she 
had guessed the true reason of her friend's sor- 
row, "I'm sure Ve'ra has said something to you 
since dinner? Hasn't she?" 

"Yes, these verses Nicholas wrote himself and 
I copied some others, and she found them on 
my table and said she'd show them to Mamma, 
and that I was ungrateful, and that Mamma 
would never allow him to marry me, but that 
he'll marry Julie. You see how he's been with 
her all day . . . Natasha, what have I done to 
deserve it? ..." 

And again she began to sob, more bitterly 
than before. Natasha lifted her up, hugged her, 
and, smiling through her tears, began comfort- 
ing her. 

"Sonya, don't believe her, darling! Don't be- 
lieve her! Do you remember how we and Nich- 
olas, all three of us, talked in the sitting room 
after supper? Why, we settled how everything 
was to be. I don't quite remember how, but 
don't you remember that it could all be ar- 
ranged and how nice it all was? There's Uncle 
Shinshfn's brother has married his first cousin. 
And we are only second cousins, you know. 
And Boris says it is quite possible. You know 
I have told him all about it. And he is so clever 
and so good!" said Natasha. "Don't you cry, 
Sonya, dear love,darlingS6nya!" and she kissed 
her and laughed. "Wra's spiteful; never mind 
her! And all will come right and she won't say 
anything to Mamma. Nicholas will tell her 
himself, and he doesn't care at all for Julie." 

Natasha kissed her on the hair. 

Sonya sat up. The little kitten brightened, 
its eyes shone, and it seemed ready to lift its 
tail, jump down on its soft paws, and begin 
playing with the ball of worsted as a kitten 
should. 

"Do you think so? ... Really? Truly?" she 
said, quickly smoothing her frock and hair. 

"Really, truly!" answered Natdsha, pushing 
in a crisp lock that had strayed from under her 
friend's plaits. 

Both laughed. 

"Well, let's go and sing 'The Brook/ " 

"Come along!" 

"Do you know, that fat Pierre who sat op- 



posite me is so funny!" said Natdsha, stopping 
suddenly. "I feel so happy!" 
And she set off at a run along the passage. 
S6nya, shaking off some down which clung 
to her and tucking away the verses in the bos- 
om of her dress close to her bony little chest, 
ran after Natasha down the passage into the 
sitting room with flushed face and light, joy- 
ous steps. At the visitors' request the young 
people sang the quartette, "The Brook," with 
which everyone was delighted. Then Nicholas 
sang a song he had just learned: 

At nighttime in the moon's fair glow 
How sweet, as fancies wander free f 
To feel that in this world there's one 
Who still is thinking but of thee! 

That while her fingers touch the harp 
Wafting sweet music o'er the lea, 

It is for thee thus swells her heart, 
Sighing its message out to thee. . . . 

A day or two, then bliss unspoilt, 
But oh! till then I cannot live! . . . 

He had not finished the last verse before the 
young people began to get ready to dance in 
the large hall, and the sound of the feet and 
the coughing of the musicians were heard from 
the gallery. 

Pierre was sitting in the drawing-room where 
Shinshin had engaged him, as a man recently 
returned from abroad, in a political conversa- 
tion in which several others joined but which 
bored Pierre. When the music began Natasha 
came in and walking straight up to Pierre said, 
laughing and blushing: 

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

"I am afraid of mixing the figures," Pierre 
replied; "but if you will be my teacher . . ." 
And lowering his big arm he offered it to the 
slender little girl. 

While the couples were arranging themselves 
and the musicians tuning up, Pierre sat down 
with his little partner. Natasha was perfectly 
happy; she was dancing with a grown-up man, 
who had been abroad. She was sitting in a con- 
spicuous place and talking to him likeagrown- 
up lady. She had a fan in her hand that one of 
the ladies had given her to hold. Assuming 
quite the pose of a society woman (heaven 
knows when and where she had learned it) she 
talked with her partner, fanning herself and 
smiling over the fan. 

"Dear, dear! Just look at her!" exclaimed the 
countess as she crossed the ballroom, pointing 
to Natasha. 



BOOK ONE 



Natasha blushed and laughed. 
"Well, really, Mamma! Why should you? 
What is there to be surprised at?" 

In the midst of the third tcossaise there was 
a clatter of chairs being pushed back in the 
sitting room where the count and Mdrya Dmi- 
trievna had been playing cards with the major- 
ity of the more distinguished and older visitors. 
They now, stretching themselves after sitting 
so long, and replacing their purses and pocket- 
books, entered the ballroom. First came Mdrya 
Dmitrievna and the count, both with merry 
countenances. The count, with playful cere- 
mony somewhat in ballet style, offered his bent 
arm to Marya Dmitrievna. He drew himself 
up, a smile of debonair gallantry lit up his 
face, and as soon as the last figure of the ecos- 
saise was ended, he clapped his hands to the 
musicians and shouted up to their gallery, ad- 
dressing the first violin: 

"Semen! Do you know the Daniel Cooper?" 

This was the count's favorite dance, which 
he had danced in his youth. (Strictly speak- 
ing, Daniel Cooper was one figure of the 
anglaise.) 

"Look at Papa!" shouted Natasha to the 
whole company, and quite forgetting that she 
was dancing with a grown-up partner she bent 
her curly head to her knees and made the whole 
room ring with her laughter. 

And indeed everybody in the room looked 
with a smile of pleasure at the jovial old gen- 
tleman, who standing beside his tall and stout 
partner, Mrya Dmftrievna, curved his arms, 
beat time, straightened his shoulders, turned 
out his toes, tapped gently with his foot, and, 
by a smile that broadened his round face more 
and more, prepared the onlookers for what 
was to follow. As soon as the provocatively gay 
strains of Daniel Cooper (somewhat resem- 
bling those of a merry peasant dance) began 
to sound, all the doorways of the ballroom 
were suddenly filled by the domestic serfs the 
men on one side and the women on the other 
who with beaming faces had come to see their 
master making merry. 

"Just look at the masterl A regular eagle he 
is!" loudly remarked the nurse, as she stood in 
one of the doorways. 

The count danced well and knew it. But his 
partner could not and did not want to dance 
well. Her enormous figure stood erect, her pow- 
erful arms hanging down (she had handed her 
reticule to the countess), and only her stern 
but handsome face really joined in the dance. 



37 



What was expressed by the whole of the count's 
plump figure, in Mdrya Dmitrievna found ex- 
pression only in her more and more beaming 
face and quivering nose. But if the count, get- 
ting more and more into die swingof it, charmed 
the spectators by the unexpectedness of his 
adroit maneuvers and the agility with which he 
capered about on his light feet, Mrya Dmi- 
trievna produced no less impression by slight ex- 
ertions the least effort to move her shoulders 
or bend her arms when turning, or stamp her 
foot which everyone appreciated in view of 
her size and habitual severity. The dance grew 
livelier and livelier. The other couples could 
not attract a moment's attention to their own 
evolutions and did not even try to do so. All 
were watching the count and Mdrya Dmi- 
trievna. Natasha kept pulling everyone by 
sleeve or dress, urging them to "look at Papa!" 
though as it was they never took their eyes off 
the couple. In the intervals of the dance the 
count, breathing deeply, waved and shouted to 
the musicians to play faster. Faster, faster, and 
faster; lightly, more lightly, and yet more light- 
ly whirled the count, flying round Marya Dmi- 
trievna, now on his toes, now on his heels; un- 
til, turning his partner round to her seat, he 
executed the final pas, raising his soft foot back- 
wards, bowing his perspiring head, smiling and 
making a wide sweep with his arm, amid a 
thunder of applause and laughter led by Nata- 
sha. Both partners stood still, breathing heavily 
and wiping their faces with their cambric 
handkerchiefs. 

"That's how we used to dance in our time, 
ma chere" said the count. 

"That was a Daniel Cooper!" exclaimed 
Mdrya Dmftrievna, tucking up her sleeves and 
puffing heavily. 

CHAPTER XXI 

WHILE in the Rost6vs' ballroom the sixth ang- 
laise was being danced, to a tune in which the 
weary musicians blundered, and while tired 
footmen and cooks were getting the supper, 
Count Beziikhov had a sixth stroke. The doc- 
tors pronounced recovery impossible. After a 
mute confession, communion was administered 
to the dying man, preparations made for the 
sacrament of unction, and in his house there 
was the bustle and thrill of suspense usual at 
such moments. Outside the house, beyond the 
gates, a group of undertakers, who hid when- 
ever a carriage drove up, waited in expectation 
of an important order for an expensive funer- 
al. The Military Governor of Moscow, who 



WAR AND PEACE 



had been assiduous in sending aides-de-camp 
to inquire after the count's health, came him- 
self that evening to bid a last farewell to the 
celebrated grandee of Catherine's court, Count 
Bezukhov. 

The magnificent reception room was crowd- 
ed. Everyone stood up respectfully when the 
Military Governor, having stayed about half 
an hour alone with the dying man, passed out, 
slightly acknowledging their bows and trying 
to escape as quickly as possible from the glances 
fixed on him by the doctors, clergy, and rela- 
tives of the family. Prince Vasfli, who had 
grown thinner and paler during the last few 
days, escorted him to the door, repeating some- 
thing to him several times in low tones. 

When the Military Governor had gone, 
Prince Vasfli sat down all alone on a chair in 
the ballroom, crossing one leg high over the 
other, leaning his elbow on his knee and cover- 
ing his face with his hand. After sitting so for a 
while he rose, and, looking about him with 
frightened eyes, went with unusually hurried 
steps down the long corridor leading to the 
back of the house, to the room of the eldest 
princess. 

Those who were in the dimly lit reception 
room spoke in nervous whispers, and, when- 
ever anyone went into or came from the dying 
man's room, grew silent and gazed with eyes 
full of curiosity or expectancy at his door, 
which creaked slightly when opened. 

"The limits of human life . . . are fixed and 
may not be o'erpassed," said an old priest to a 
lady who had taken a seat beside him and was 
listening naively to his words. 

"I wonder, is it not too late to administer 
unction?" asked the lady, adding the priest's 
clerical title, as if she had no opinion of her 
own on the subject. 

"Ah, madam, it is a great sacrament," replied 
the priest, passing his hand over the thin griz- 
zled strands of hair combed back across his 
bald head. 

"Who was that? The Military Governor him- 
self?" was being asked at the other side of the 
room. "How young-looking he is!" 

"Yes, and he is over sixty. I hear the count 
no longer recognizes anyone. They wished to 
administer the sacrament of unction." 

"I knew someone who received that sacra- 
ment seven times." 

The second princess had just come from the 
sickroom with her eyes red from weeping and 
sat down beside Dr. Lorrain, who was sitting 
in a graceful pose under a portrait of Cather- 



ine, leaning his elbow on a table. 

"Beautiful," said the doctor in answer to a 
remark about the weather. "The weather is 
beautiful, Princess; and besides, in Moscow 
one feels as if one were in the country." 

"Yes, indeed," replied the princess with a 
sigh. "So he may have something to drink?" 

Lorrain considered. 

"Has he taken his medicine?" 

"Yes." 

The doctor glanced at his watch. 

"Take a glass of boiled water and put a 
pinch of cream of tartar," and he indicated 
with his delicate fingers what he meant by a 
pinch. 

"Dere has neffer been a gase,"a German doc- 
tor was saying to an aide-de-camp, "dat one 
liffs after de sird sdroke." 

"Arid what a well-preserved man he was {"re- 
marked the aide-de-camp. "And who will in- 
herit his wealth?" he added in a whisper. 

"It von't go begging," replied the German 
with a smile. 

Everyone again looked toward the door, 
which creaked as the second princess went in 
with the drink she had prepared according to 
Lorrain's instructions. The German doctor 
went up to Lorrain. 

"Do you think he can last till morning?" 
asked the German, addressing Lorrain in 
French which he pronounced badly. 

Lorrain, pursing up his lips, waved a severe- 
ly negative finger before his nose. 

"Tonight, not later," said he in a low voice, 
and he moved away with a decorous smile of 
self-satisfaction at being able clearly to under- 
stand and state the patient's condition. 

Meanwhile Prince Vasili had opened the 
door into the princess' room. 

In this room it was almost dark; only two 
tiny lamps were burning before the icons and 
there was a pleasant scent of flowers and burnt 
pastilles. The room was crowded with small 
pieces of furniture, whatnots, cupboards, and 
little tables. The quilt of a high, white feather 
bed was just visible behind a screen. A small 
dog began to bark. 

"Ah, is it you, cousin?" 

She rose and smoothed her hair, which was 
as usual so extremely smooth that it seemed to 
be made of one piece with her head and cov- 
ered with varnish. 

"Has anything happened?" she asked. "I am 
so terrified." 

"No, there is no change. I only came to have 



BOOK ONE 



39 



a talk about business, Catiche," l muttered the 
prince, seating himself wearily on the chair she 
had just vacated. "You have made the place 
warm, I must say," he remarked. "Well, sit 
down: let's have a talk." 

"I thought perhaps something had hap- 
pened/' she said with her unchanging stonily 
severe expression; and, sitting down opposite 
the prince, she prepared to listen. 

"I wished to get a nap, mon cousin, but I 
can't." 

"Well, my dear?" said Prince Vasili, taking 
her hand and bending it downwards as was his 
habit. 

It was plain that this "well?" referred to 
much that they both understood without nam- 
ing. 

The princess, who had a straight, rigid body, 
abnormally long for her legs, looked directly at 
Prince Vasfli with no sign of emotion in her 
prominent gray eyes. Then she shook her head 
and glanced up at the icons with a sigh. This 
might have been taken as an expression of sor- 
row and devotion, or of weariness and hope of 
resting before long. Prince Vasili understood 
it as an expression of weariness. 

"And I?" he said; "do you think it is easier 
for me? I am as worn out as a post horse, but 
still I must have a talk with you, Catiche, a 
very serious talk." 

Prince Vasfli said no more and his cheeks be- 
gan to twitch nervously, now on one side, now 
on the other, giving his face an unpleasant ex- 
pression which was never to be seen on it in a 
drawing room. His eyes too seemed strange; at 
one moment they looked impudently sly and 
at the next glanced round in alarm. 

The princess, holding her little dog on her 
lap with her thin bony hands, looked atten- 
tively into Prince Vasfli's eyes evidently re- 
solved not to be the first to break silence, if she 
had to wait till morning. 

"Well, you see, my dear princess and cousin, 
Catherine Semenovna," continued Prince Va- 
sfli, returning to his theme, apparently not 
without an inner struggle; "at such a moment 
as this one must think of everything. One must 
think of the future, of all of you ... I love you 
all, like children of my own, as you know." 

The princess continued to look at him with- 
out moving, and with the same dull expres- 
sion. 

"And then of course my family has also to be 
considered," Prince Vasili went on, testily 
pushing away a little table without looking at 

1 Catherine. 



her. "You know, Catiche, that wg you three 
sisters, Mdmontov, and my wife are the count's 
only direct heirs. I know, I know how hard it 
is for you to talk or think of such matters. It is 
no easier for me; but, my dear, I am getting on 
for sixty and must be prepared for anything. 
Do you know I have sent for Pierre? The count," 
pointing to his portrait, "definitely demanded 
that he should be called." 

Prince Vasfli looked questioningly at the 
princess, but could not make out whether she 
was considering what he had just said or wheth- 
er she was simply looking at him. 

"There is one thing I constantly pray God 
to grant, mon cousin/' she replied, "and it is 
that He would be merciful to him and would 
allow his noble soul peacefully to leave this. . ." 

"Yes, yes, of course," interrupted Prince Va- 
sili impatiently, rubbing his bald head and an- 
grily pulling back toward him the little table 
that he had pushed away. "But ... in short, 
the fact is ... you know yourself that last win- 
ter the count made a will by which he left all 
his property, not to us his direct heirs, but to 
Pierre." 

"He has made wills enoughl" quietly re- 
marked the princess. "But he cannot leave the 
estate to Pierre. Pierre is illegitimate." 

"But, my dear," said Prince Vasfli suddenly, 
clutching the little table and becoming more 
animated and talking more rapidly: "what if 
a letter has been written to the Emperor in 
which the count asks for Pierre's legitimation? 
Do you understand that in consideration of 
the count's services, his request would be 
granted? . . ." 

The princess smiled as people do who think 
they know more about the subject under dis- 
cussion than those they are talking with. 

"I can tell you more," continued Prince Va- 
sfli, seizing her hand, "that letter was written, 
though it was not sent, and the Emperor knew 
of it. The only question is, has it been de- 
stroyed or not? If not, then as soon as all is 
over/' and Prince Vasfli sighed to intimate 
what he meant by the words all is over, "and 
the count's papers are opened, the will and 
letter will be delivered to the Emperor, and 
the petition will certainly be granted. Pierre 
will get everything as the legitimate son." 

"And our share?" asked the princess smiling 
ironically, as if anything might happen, only 
not that. 

"But, my poor Catiche, it is as clear as day- 
lightl He will then be the legal heir to every- 
thing and you won't get anything. You must 



WAR AND PEACE 



know, my dear, whether the will and letter 
were written, and whether they have been de- 
stroyed or not. And if they have somehow been 
overlooked, you ought to know where they are, 
and must find them, because . . ." 

"What next?" the princess interrupted, smil- 
ing sardonically and not changing the expres- 
sion of her eyes. "I am a woman, and you think 
we are all stupid; but I know this: an illegiti- 
mate son cannot inherit . . . un bdtard!" * she 
added, as if supposing that this translation of 
the word would effectively prove to Prince Va- 
sfli the invalidity of his contention. 

"Well, really, Catiche! Can't you under- 
stand! You are so intelligent, how is it you don't 
see that if the count has written a letter to the 
Emperor begging him to recognize Pierre as 
legitimate, it follows that Pierre will not be 
Pierre but will become Count Bezukhov, and 
will then inherit everything under the will? 
And if the will and letter are not destroyed, 
then you will have nothing but the consola- 
tion of having been dutiful et tout ce qui s* en- 
suit! * That's certain." 

"I know the will was made, but I also know 
that it is invalid; and you, mon cousin, seem to 
consider me a perfect fool," said the princess 
with the expression women assume when they 
suppose they are saying something witty and 
stinging. 

"My dear Princess Catherine Semenovna," 
began Prince Vasfli impatiently, "I came here 
not to wrangle with you, but to talk about 
your interests as with a kinswoman, a good, 
kind, true relation. And I tell you for the tenth 
time that if the letter to the Emperor and the 
will in Pierre's favor are among the count's 
papers, then, my dear girl, you and your sisters 
are not heiressesl If you don't believe me, then 
believe an expert. I have just been talking to 
Dmitri Oniifrich" (the family solicitor) "and 
he says the same." 

At this a sudden change evidently took place 
in the princess' ideas; her thin lips grew white, 
though her eyes did not change, and her voice 
when she began to speak passed through such 
transitions as she herself evidently did not ex- 
pect. 

"That would be a fine thing!" said she. "I 
never wanted anything and I don't now." 

She pushed the little dog off her lap and 
smoothed her dress. 

"And this is gratitudethis is recognition for 
those who have sacrificed everything for his 

1 A bastard. 

* And all that follows therefrom. 



sake!" she cried. "It's splendid! Fine! I don't 
want anything, Prince." 

"Yes, but you are not the only one. There 
are your sisters . . ." replied Prince Vasfli. 

But the princess did not listen to him. 

"Yes, I knew it long ago but had forgotten. 
I knew that I could expect nothing but mean- 
ness, deceit, envy, intrigue, and ingratitude 
the blackest ingratitude in this house . . ." 

"Do you or do you not know where that will 
is?" insisted Prince Vasfli, his cheeks twitching 
more than ever. 

"Yes, I was a fool! I still believed in people, 
loved them, and sacrificed myself. But only the 
base, the vile succeed! I know who has been in- 
triguing!" 

The princess wished to rise, but the prince 
held her by the hand. She had the air of one 
who has suddenly lost faith in the whole hu- 
man race. She gave her companion an angry 
glance. 

"There is still time, my dear. You must re- 
member, Catiche, that it was all done casually 
in a moment of anger, of illness, and was after- 
wards forgotten. Our duty, my dear, is to recti- 
fy his mistake, to ease his last moments by not 
letting him commit this injustice, and not to 
let him die feeling that he is rendering un- 
happy those who ..." 

"Who sacrificed everything for him," chimed 
in the princess, who would again have risen 
had not the prince still held her fast, "though 
he never could appreciate it. No, mon cousin/' 
she added with a sigh, "I shall always remem- 
ber that in this world one must expect no re- 
ward, that in this world there is neither honor 
nor justice. In this world one has to be cun- 
ning and cruel." 

"Now come, come! Be reasonable. I know 
your excellent heart." 

"No, I have a wicked heart." 

"I know your heart," repeated the prince. "I 
value your friendship and wish you to have as 
good an opinion of me. Don't upset yourself, 
and let us talk sensibly while there is still time, 

be it a day or be it but an hour Tell me all 

you know about the will, and above all where 
it is. You must know. We will take it at once 
and show it to the count. He has, no doubt, for- 
gotten it and will wish to destroy it. You un- 
derstand that my sole desire is conscientiously 
to carry out his wishes; that is my only reason 
for being here. I came simply to help him and 
you." 

"Now I see it all! I know who has been in- 
triguingI know!" cried the princess. 



BOOK ONE 



"That's not the point, my dear." 
"It's that protg of yours, that sweet Prin- 
cess Drubetskaya, that Anna Mikhaylovna 
whom I would not take for a housemaid . . . 
the infamous, vile woman 1" 

"Do not let us lose any time . . ." 
"Ah, don't talk to me! Last winter she whee- 
dled herself in here and told the count such 
vile, disgraceful things about us, especially a- 
bout Sophie I can't repeat them that it made 
the count quite ill and he would not see us for 
a whole fortnight. I know it was then he wrote 
this vile, infamous paper, but I thought the 
thing was invalid." 

"We've got to it at last why did you not tell 
me about it sooner?" 

"It's in the inlaid portfolio that he keeps un- 
der his pillow," said the princess, ignoring his 
question. "Now I know! Yes; if I have a sin, a 
great sin, it is hatred of that vile woman!" al- 
most shrieked the princess, now quite changed. 
"And what docs she come worming herself in 
here for? But I will give her a piece of my 
mind. The time will come!" 

CHAPTER XXII 

WHILE these conversations were going on in 
the reception room and the princess' room, a 
carriage containing Pierre (who had been sent 
for) and Anna Mikhaylovna (who found it nec- 
essary to accompany him) was driving into the 
court of Count Beziikhov's house. As the wheels 
rolled softly over the straw beneath the win- 
dows, Anna Mikhdylovna, having turned with 
words of comfort to her companion, realized 
that he was asleep in his corner and woke him 
up. Rousing himself, Pierre followed Anna 
Mikhaylovna out of the carriage, and only then 
began to think of the interview with his dying 
father which awaited him. He noticed that 
they had not come to the front entrance but to 
the backdoor. While he was getting down from 
the carriage steps two men, who looked like 
tradespeople, ran hurriedly from the entrance 
and hid in the shadow of the wall. Pausing for 
a moment, Pierre noticed several other men of 
the same kind hiding in the shadow of the 
house on both sides. But neither Anna Mik- 
haylovna nor the footman nor the coachman, 
who could not help seeing these people, took 
any notice of them. "It seems to be all right," 
Pierre concluded, and followed Anna Mikhay- 
lovna. She hurriedly ascended the narrow dim- 
ly lit stone staircase, calling to Pierre, who was 
lagging behind, to follow. Though he did not 
see why it was necessary for him to go to the 



count at all, still less why he had to go by the 
back stairs, yet judging byAnnaMikhiylovna's 
air of assurance and haste, Pierre concluded 
that it was all absolutely necessary. Halfway 
up the stairs they were almost knocked over by 
some men who, carrying pails, came running 
downstairs, their boots clattering. These men 
pressed close to the wall to let Pierre andAnna 
MikMylovna pass and did not evince the least 
surprise at seeing them there. 

"Is this the way to the princesses' apart- 
ments?" asked Anna Mikhaylovna of one of 
them. 

"Yes, "replied a footman in a bold loud voice, 
as if anything were now permissible; "the door 
to the left, ma'am." 

"Perhaps the count did not ask for me," said 
Pierre when he reached the landing. "I'd bet- 
ter go to my own room." 

Anna Mikhaylovna paused and waited for 
him to come up. 

"Ah, my friend!" she said, touching his arm 
as she had done her son's when speaking to 
him that afternoon, "believe me I suffer no 
less than you do, but be a man!" 

"But really, hadn't I better go away?" he 
asked, looking kindly at her over his spectacles. 

"Ah, my dear friend! Forget the wrongs that 
may have been done you. Think that he is your 
father . . . perhaps in the agony of death." She 
sighed. "I have loved you like a son from the 
first. Trust yourself to me, Pierre. I shall not 
forget your interests." 

Pierre did not understand a word, but the 
conviction that all this had to be grew stronger, 
and he meekly followed Anna Mikhaylovna 
who was already opening a door. 

This door led into a back anteroom. An old 
man, a servant of the princesses, sat in a corner 
knitting a stocking. Pierre had never been in 
this part of the house and did not even know 
of the existence of these rooms. Anna Mikhay- 
lovna, addressing a maid who was hurrying 
past with a decanter on a tray as "my dear" and 
"my sweet," asked about the princesses' health 
and then led Pierre along a stone passage. The 
first door on the left led into the princesses' 
apartments. The maid with the decanter in 
her haste had not closed the door (everything 
in the house was done in haste at that time), 
and Pierre and Anna Mikhdylovna in passing 
instinctively glanced into the room, where 
Prince Vasili and the eldest princess were sit- 
ting close together talking. Seeing them pass, 
Prince Vasili drew back with obvious impa- 
tience, while the princess jumped up and with 



WAR AND PEACE 



a gesture of desperation slammed the door with 
all her might. 

This action was so unlike her usual compo- 
sure and the fear depicted on Prince Vasili's 
face so out of keeping with his dignity that 
Pierre stopped and glanced inquiringly over 
his spectacles at his guide. Anna Mikhdylovna 
evinced no surprise, she only smiled faintly 
and sighed, as if to say that this was no more 
than she had expected. 

"Be a man, my friend. I will look after your 
interests," said she in reply to his look, and 
went still faster along the passage. 

Pierre could not make out what it was all 
about, and still less what "watching over his 
interests" meant, but he decided that all these 
things had to be. From the passage they went 
into a large, dimly lit room adjoining the count's 
reception room. It was one of those sumptuous 
but cold apartments known to Pierre only from 
the front approach, but even in this room there 
now stood an empty bath, and water had been 
spilled on the carpet. They were met by a dea- 
con with a censer and by a servant who passed 
out on tiptoe without heeding them. They 
went into the reception room familiar to 
Pierre, with two Italian windows opening in- 
to the conservatory, with its large bust and full- 
length portrait of Catherine the Great. The 
same people were still sitting here in almost 
the same positions as before, whispering to one 
another. All became silent and turned to look 
at the pale tear-worn Anna Mikhylovna as she 
entered, and at the big stout figure of Pierre 
who, hanging his head, meekly followed her. 

Anna Mikhdylovna's face expressed a con- 
sciousness that the decisive moment had ar- 
rived. With the air of a practical Petersburg 
lady she now, keeping Pierre close beside her, 
entered the room even more boldly than that 
afternoon. She felt that as she brought with her 
the person the dying man wished to see, her 
own admission was assured. Casting a rapid 
glance at all those in the room and noticing 
the count's confessor there, she glided up to 
him with a sort of amble, not exactly bowing, 
yet seeming to grow suddenly smaller, and re- 
spectfully received the blessing first of one and 
then of another priest. 

"God be thanked that you are in time," said 
she to one of the priests; "all we relatives have 
been in such anxiety. This young man is the 
count's son," she added more softly. "What a 
terrible moment!" 

Having said this she went up to the doctor. 

"Dear doctor," said she, "this young man is 



the count's son. Is there any hope?" 

The doctor cast a rapid glance upwards and 
silently shrugged his shoulders. Anna Mikhiy- 
lovna with just the same movement raised her 
shoulders and eyes, almost closing the latter, 
sighed, and moved away from the doctor to 
Pierre. To him, in a particularly respectful and 
tenderly sad voice, she said: 

"Trust in His mercy!" and pointing out a 
small sofa for him to sit and wait for her, she 
went silently toward the door that everyone 
was watching and it creaked very slightly as 
she disappeared behind it. 

Pierre, having made up his mind to obey his 
monitress implicitly, moved toward the sofa 
she had indicated. As soon as Anna Mikhdy- 
lovna had disappeared he noticed that the eyes 
of all in the room turned to him with some- 
thing more than curiosity and sympathy. He 
noticed that they whispered to one another, 
casting significant looks at him with a kind of 
awe and even servility. A deference such as he 
had never before received vas shown him. A 
strange lady, the one who had been talking to 
the priests, rose and offered him her seat; an 
aide-de-camp picked up and returned a glove 
Pierre had dropped; the doctors became re- 
spectfully silent as he passed by, and moved to 
make way for him. At first Pierre wished to 
take another seat so as not to trouble the lady, 
and also to pick up the glove himself and to 
pass round the doctors who were not even in 
his way; but all at once he felt that this would 
not do, and that tonight he was a person o- 
bliged to perform some sort of awful rite which 
everyone expected of him, and that he was 
therefore bound to accept their services. He 
took the glove in silence from the aide-de-camp, 
and sat down in the lady's chair, placing his 
huge hands symmetrically on his knees in the 
nai've attitude of an Egyptian statue, and de- 
cided in his own mind that all was as it should 
be, and that in order not to lose his head and 
do foolish things he must not act on his own 
ideas tonight, but must yield himself up entire- 
ly to the will of those who were guiding him. 

Not two minutes had passed before Prince 
Vasili with head erect majestically entered the 
room. He was wearing his long coat with three 
stars on his breast. He seemed to have grown 
thinner since the morning; his eyes seemed 
larger than usual when he glanced round and 
noticed Pierre. He went up to him, took his 
hand (a thing he never used to do), and drew 
it downwards as if wishing to ascertain wheth- 
er it was firmly fixed on. 



BOOK ONE 



43 



"Courage, courage, my friend! He has^sked 
to see you. That is well!" and he turned to go. 

But Pierre thought it necessary to ask: "How 
is . . ." and hesitated, not knowing whether it 
would be proper to call the dying man "the 
count," yet ashamed to call him "father." 

"He had another stroke about half an hour 
ago. Courage, my friend . . ." 

Pierre's mind was in such a confused state 
that the word "stroke" suggested to him a blow 
from something. He looked at Prince Vasfli in 
perplexity, and only later grasped that a stroke 
was an attack of illness. Prince Vastti said some- 
thing to Lorrain in passing and went through 
the door on tiptoe. He could not walk well on 
tiptoe and his whole body jerked at each step. 
The eldest princess followed him, and the 
priests and deacons and some servants also 
went in at the door. Through that door was 
heard a noise of things being moved about, and 
at last Anna Mikhaylovna, still with the same 
expression, pale but resolute in the discharge 
of duty, ran out and touching Pierre lightly on 
the arm said: 

"The divine mercy is inexhaustible! Unc- 
tion is about to be administered. Come." 

Pierre went in at the door, stepping on the 
soft carpet, and noticed that the strange lady, 
the aide-de-camp, and some of the servants, all 
followed him in, as if there were now no fur- 
ther need for permission to enter that room. 

CHAPTER XXIII 

PIERRE well knew this large room divided by 
columns and an arch, its walls hung round with 
Persian carpets. The part of the room behind 
the columns, with a high silk-curtained mahog- 
any bedstead on one side and on the other an 
immense case containing icons, was brightly 
illuminated with red light like a Russian church 
during evening service. Under the gleaming 
icons stood a long invalid chair, and in that 
chair on snowy-white smooth pillows, evident- 
ly freshly changed, Pierre saw covered to the 
waist by a bright green quiltthe familiar, ma- 
jestic figure of his father, Count Beziikhov, 
with that gray mane of hair above his broad 
forehead which reminded one of a lion, and 
the deep characteristically noble wrinkles of 
his handsome, ruddy face. He lay just under 
the icons; his large thick hands outside the 
quilt. Into the right hand, which was lying 
palm downwards, a wax taper had been thrust 
between forefinger and thumb, and an old serv- 
ant, bending over from behind the chair, held 
it in position. By the chair stood the priests, 



their long hair falling over their magnificent 
glittering vestments, with lighted tapers in their 
hands, slowly and solemnly conducting the 
service. A little behind them stood the two 
younger princesses holding handkerchiefs to 
their eyes, and just in front of them their eld- 
est sister, Catiche, with a vicious and deter- 
mined look steadily fixed on the icons, as though 
declaring to all that she could not answer for 
herself should she glance round. Anna Mikhdy- 
lovna,witha meek, sorrowful, and all-forgiving 
expression on her face, stood by the door near 
the strange lady. Prince Vasili in front of the 
door, near the invalid chair, a wax taper in his 
left hand, was leaning his left arm on the 
carved back of a velvet chair he had turned 
round for the purpose, and was crossing him- 
self with his right hand, turning his eyes up- 
ward each time he touched his forehead. His 
face wore a calm look of piety and resignation 
to the will of God. "If you do not understand 
these sentiments," he seemed to be saying, "so 
much the worse for you!" 

Behind him stood the aide-de-camp, the doc- 
tors, and the menservants; the men and wom- 
en had separated as in church. All were silently 
crossing themselves, and the reading of the 
church service, the subdued chanting of deep 
bass voices, and in the intervals sighs and the 
shuffling of feet were the only sounds that could 
be heard. Anna Mikhaylovna, with an air of 
importance that showed that she felt she quite 
knew what she was about, went across the room 
to where Pierre was standing and gave him a 
taper. He lit it and, distracted by observing 
those around him, began crossing himself with 
the hand that held the taper. 

Sophie, the rosy, laughter-loving, youngest 
princess with the mole, watched him. She 
smiled, hid her face in her handkerchief, and 
remained with it hidden for awhile; then look- 
ing up and seeing Pierre she again began to 
laugh. She evidently felt unable to look at him 
without laughing, but could not resist looking 
at him: so to be out of temptation she slipped 
quietly behind one of the columns. In the midst 
of the service the voices of the priests suddenly 
ceased, they whispered to one another, and the 
old servant who was holding the count's hand 
got up and said something to the ladies. Anna 
Mikhaylovna stepped forward and, stooping o- 
ver the dying man, beckoned to Lorrain from 
behind her back. The French doctor held no ta- 
per; he was leaning against one of the columns 
in a respectful attitude implying that he, a 
foreigner, in spite of all differences of faith, 



44 



understood the full importance of the rite now 
being performed and even approved of it. He 
now approached the sick man with the noise- 
less step of one in full vigor of life, with his 
delicate white fingers raised from the green 
quilt the hand that was free, and turning side- 
ways felt the pulse and reflected a moment. The 
sick man was given something to drink, there 
was a stir around him, then the people resumed 
their places and the service continued. During 
this interval Pierre noticed that Prince Vasili 
left the chair on which he had been leaning, 
and with an air which intimated that he knew 
what he was about and if others did not under- 
stand him it was so much the worse for them 
did not go up to the dying man, but passed 
by him, joined the eldest princess, and moved 
with her to the side of the room where stood 
the high bedstead with its silken hangings. On 
leaving the bed both Prince Vasili and the 
princess passed out by a back door, but returned 
to their places one after the other before the 
service was concluded. Pierre paid no more at- 
tention to thjs occurrence than to the rest of 
what went on, having made up his mind once 
for all that what he saw happening around him 
that evening was in some way essential. 

The chanting of the service ceased, and the 
voice of the priest was heard respectfully con- 
gratulating the dying man on having received 
the sacrament. The dying man lay as lifeless 
and immovable as before. Around him every- 
one began to stir: steps were audible and whis- 
pers, among which Anna Mikhaylovna's was 
the most distinct. 

Pierre heard her say: 

"Certainly he must be moved onto the bed; 
here it will be impossible . . ." 

The sick man was so surrounded by doctors, 
princesses, and servants that Pierre could no 
longer see the reddish-yellow face with its gray 
mane which, though he saw other faces as well, 
he had not lost sight of for a single moment 
during the whole service. He judged by the 
cautious movements of those who crowded 
round the invalid chair that they had lifted the 
dying man and were moving him. 

"Catch hold of my arm or you'll drop him!" 
he heard one of the servants say in a frightened 
whisper. "Catch hold from underneath. Here!" 
exclaimed different voices; and the heavy 
breathing of the bearers and the shuffling of 
their feet grew more hurried, as if the weight 
they were carrying were too much for them. 

As the bearers, among whom was Anna Mik- 
haylovna, passed the young man he caught a 



WAR AND PEACE 

momentary glimpse between their heads and 
backs of the dying man's high, stout, uncovered 
chest and powerful shoulders, raised by those 
who were holding him under the armpits, and 
of his gray, curly, leonine head. This head, with 
its remarkably broad brow and cheekbones, its 
handsome, sensual mouth, and its cold, majes- 
tic expression, was not disfigured by the ap- 
proach of death. It was the same as Pierre re- 
membered it three months before, when the 
count had sent him to Petersburg. But now this 
head was swaying helplessly with the uneven 
movements of the bearers, and the cold listless 
gaze fixed itself upon nothing. 

After a few minutes' bustle beside the high 
bedstead, those who had carried the sick man 
dispersed. Anna Mikhaylovna touched Pierre's 
hand and said, "Come." Pierre went with her 
to the bed on which the sick man had been laid 
in a stately pose in keeping with the ceremony 
just completed. He lay with his head propped 
high on the pillows. His hands were symmetri- 
cally placed on the green silk quilt, the palms 
downward. When Pierre came up the count 
was gazing straight at him, but with a look the 
significance of which could not be understood 
by mortal man. Either this look meant nothing 
but that as long as one has eyes they must look 
somewhere, or it meant too much. Pierre hesi- 
tated, not knowing what to do, and glanced in- 
quiringly at his guide. Anna Mikhdylovna 
made a hurried sign with her eyes, glancing at 
the sick man's hand and moving her lips as if 
to send it a kiss. Pierre, carefully stretching his 
neck so as not to touch the quilt, followed 
her suggestion and pressed his lips to the large- 
boned, fleshy hand. Neither the hand nor a 
single muscle of the count's face stirred. Once 
more Pierre looked questioningly at Anna 
Mikhaylovna to see what he was to do next. 
Anna Mikhaylovna with her eyes indicated a 
chair that stood beside the bed. Pierre obedi- 
ently sat down, his eyes asking if he were doing 
right. Anna Mikhaylovna nodded approving- 
ly. Again Pierre fell into the naively symmetri- 
cal pose of an Egyptian statue, evidently dis- 
tressed that his stout and clumsy body took up 
so much room and doing his utmost to look as 
small as possible. He looked at the count, who 
still gazed at the spot where Pierre's face had 
been before he sat down. Anna Mikhaylovna 
indicated by her attitude her consciousness of 
the pathetic importance of these last moments 
of meeting between the father and son. This 
lasted about two minutes, which to Pierre 
seemed an hour. Suddenly the broad muscles 



BOOK ONE 



45 



and lines of the count's face began to twitch. 
The twitching increased, the handsome skouth 
was drawn to one side (only now did Pierre 
realize how near death his father was), and 
from that distorted mouth issued an indistinct, 
hoarse sound. Anna Mikhaylovna looked at- 
tentively at the sick man's eyes, trying to guess 
what he wanted; she pointed first to Pierre, then 
to some drink, then named Prince Vasfli in an 
inquiring whisper, then pointed to the quilt. 
The eyes and face of the sick man showed im- 
patience. He made an effort to look at the serv- 
ant who stood constantly at the head of the 
bed. 

"Wants to turn on the other side," whis- 
pered the servant, and got up to turn the 
count's heavy body toward the wall. 

Pierre' rose to help him. 

While the count was being turned over, one 
of his arms fell back helplessly and he made a 
fruitless effort to pull it forward. Whether he 
noticed the look of terror with which Pierre re- 
garded that lifeless arm, or whether some other 
thought flitted across his dying brain, at any 
rate he glanced at the refractory arm, at Pierre's 
terror-stricken face, and again at the arm, and 
on his face a feeble, piteous smile appeared, 
quite out of keeping with his features, that 
seemed to deride his own helplessness. At sight 
of this smile Pierre felt an unexpected quiver- 
ing in his breast and a tickling in his nose, and 
tears dimmed his eyes. The sick man was turned 
onto his side with his face to the wall. He sighed. 

"He is dozing," said Anna Mikhaylovna, ob- 
serving that one of the princesses was coming 
to take her turn at watching. "Let us go." 

Pierre went out. 

CHAPTER XXIV 

THERE WAS now no one in the reception 
room except Prince Vasfli and the eldest prin- 
cess, who were sitting under the portrait of 
Catherine the Great and talking eagerly. As 
soon as they saw Pierre and his companion they 
became silent, and Pierre thought he saw the 
princess hide something as she whispered: 

"I can't bear the sight of that woman." 

"Catiche has had tea served in the small draw- 
ing room," said Prince Vasili to Anna Mikhay- 
lovna. "Go and take something, my poor Anna 
Mikhdylovna, or you will not hold out." 

To Pierre he said nothing, merely giving his 
arm a sympathetic squeeze below the shoulder. 
Pierre went with Anna Mikhdylovna into the 
small drawing room. 

"There is nothing so refreshing after a sleep- 



less night as a cup of this delicious Russian tea," 
Lorrain was say ing with an air of restrained an- 
imation as he stood sipping tea from a delicate 
Chinese handleless cup before a table on which 
tea and a cold supper were laid in the small 
circular room. Around the table all who were 
at Count Bezukhov's house that night had gath- 
ered to fortify themselves. Pierre well remem- 
bered this small circular drawing room with its 
mirrors and little tables. During balls given at 
the house, Pierre, who did not know how to 
dance, had liked sitting in this room to watch 
the ladies who, as they passed through in their 
ball dresses with diamonds and pearls on their 
bare shoulders, looked at themselves in the 
brilliantly lighted mirrors which repeated their 
reflections several times. Now this same room 
was dimly lighted by two candles. On one small 
table tea things and supper dishes stood in dis- 
order, and in the middle of the night a motley 
throng of people sat there, not merrymaking, 
but somberly whispering, and betraying by ev- 
ery word and movement that they none of 
them forgot what was happening and what was 
about to happen in the bedroom. Pierre did not 
eat anything though he would very much have 
liked to. He looked inquiringly at his moni- 
tressand saw that she was again going on tiptoe 
to the reception room where they had left 
Prince Vasfli and the eldest princess. Pierre 
concluded that this also was essential, and after 
a short interval followed her. Anna Mikhdylov- 
na was standing beside the princess, and they 
were both speaking in excited whispers. 

"Permit me, Princess, to know what is neces- 
sary and what is not necessary, "said the young- 
er of the two speakers, evidently in the same 
state of excitement as when she had slammed 
the door of her room. 

"But, my dear princess," answered Anna 
Mikhaylovna blandly but impressively, block- 
ing the way to the bedroom and preventing the 
other from passing, "won't this be too much 
for poor Uncle at a moment when he needs re- 
pose? Worldly conversation at a moment when 
his soul is already prepared . . ." 

Prince Vasfli was seated in an easy chair in 
his familiar attitude, with one leg crossed high 
above the other. His cheeks, which were so flab- 
by that they looked heavier below, were twitch- 
ing violently; but he wore the air of a man lit- 
tle concerned in what the two ladies were say- 
ing. 

"Come, my dear Anna Mikhdylovna, let Ca- 
tiche do as she pleases. You know how fond 
the count is of her." 



WAR AND PEACE 



"I don't even know what is in this paper," 
said the younger of the two ladies, addressing 
Prince Vasili and pointing to an inlaid port- 
folio she held in her hand. "All I know is that 
his real will is in his writing table, and this is a 
paper he has forgotten. . . ." 

She tried to pass Anna Mikhdylovna, but the 
latter sprang so as to bar her path. 

"I know, my dear, kind princess," said Anna 
Mikhdylovna, seizing the portfolio so firmly 
that it was plain she would not let go easily. 
"Dear princess, I beg and implore you, have 
some pity on him! ]e vous en conjure . . " 

The princess did not reply. Their efforts in 
the struggle for the portfolio were the only 
sounds Audible, but it was evident that if the 
princess did speak, her words would not be 
flattering to Anna Mikhdylovna. Though the 
latter held on tenaciously, her voice lost none 
of its honeyed firmness and softness. 

"Pierre, my dear, come here. I think he will 
not be out of place in a family consultation; is 
l it not so, Prince?" 

"Why don't you speak, cousin?" suddenly 
shrieked the princess so loud that those in the 
drawing room heard her and were startled. 
"Why do you remain silent when heaven 
knows who permits herself to interfere, mak- 
ing a scene on the very threshold of a dying 
man's room? Intriguer!" she hissed viciously, 
and tugged with all her might at the portfolio. 

But Anna Mikhdylovna went forward a step 
or two to keep her hold on the portfolio, and 
changed her grip. 

Prince Vasili rose. "Oh!" said he with re- 
proach and surprise, "this is absurd! Come, let 
go I tell you." 

The princess let go. 

"And you too!" 

But Anna Mikhdylovna did not obey him. 

"Let go, I tell you! I will take the responsi- 
bility. I myself will go and ask him, I! ... does 
that satisfy you?" 

"But, Prince," said Anna Mikhdylovna, "aft- 
er such a solemn sacrament, allow him a mo- 
ment's peace! Here, Pierre, tell them your 
opinion," said she, turning to the young man 
who, having come quite close, was gazing with 
astonishment at the angry face of the princess 
which had lost all dignity, and at the twitch- 
ing cheeks of Prince Vasili. 

"Remember that you will answer for the con- 
sequences," said Prince Vasili severely. "You 
don't know what you are doing." 

"Vile woman!" shouted the princess, dart- 
ing unexpectedly at Anna Mikhdylovna and 



snatching the portfolio from her. 

Priice Vasili bent his head and spread out 
his hands. 

At this moment that terrible door, which 
Pierre had watched so long and which had al- 
ways opened so quietly, burst noisily open and 
banged against the wall, and the second of the 
three sisters rushed out wringing her hands. 

"What are you doing!" she cried vehemently. 
"He isdyingand you leave me alone with him!" 

Her sister dropped the portfolio. Anna Mik- 
hdylovna, stooping, quickly caught up the ob- 
ject of contention and ran into the bedroom. 
The eldest princess and Prince Vasfli, recover- 
ing themselves, followed her, A few minutes lat- 
er the eldest sister came out with a pale hard 
face, again biting her underlip. At sight of 
Pierre her expression showed an irrepressible 
hatred. 

"Yes, now you may be glad!" said she; "this 
is what you have been waiting for." And burst- 
ing into tears she hid her face in her handker- 
chief and rushed from the room. 

Prince Vasili came next. He staggered to the 
sofa on which Pierre was sitting and dropped 
onto it, covering his face with his hand. Pierre 
noticed that he was pale and that his jaw quiv- 
ered and shook as if in an ague. 

"Ah, my friend!" said he, taking Pierre by 
the elbow; and there was in his voice a sincer- 
ity and weakness Pierre had never observed in 
it before. "How often we sin, how much we 
deceive, and all for what? I am near sixty, dear 
friend ... I too . . . All will end in death, all! 
Death is awful . . ." and he burst into tears. 

Anna Mikhdylovna came out last. She ap- 
proached Pierre with slow, quiet steps. 

"Pierre!" she said. 

Pierre gave her an inquiring look. She kissed 
the young man on his forehead, wetting him 
with her tears. Then after a pause she said: 

"He is no more " 

Pierre looked at her over his spectacles. 

"Come, I will go with you. Try to weep, noth- 
ing gives such relief as tears." 

She led him into the dark drawing room 
and Pierre was glad no one could see his face. 
Anna Mikhdylovna left him, and when she re- 
turned he was fast asleep with his head on his 
arm. 

In the morning Anna Mikhdylovna said to 
Pierre: 

"Yes, my dear, this is a great loss for us all, 
not to speak of you. But God will support you: 
you are young, and are now, I hope, in com- 
mand of an immense fortune. The will has not 



BOOK ONE 



47 



yet been opened. I knowyouwell enough to be 
sure that this will not turn your head, out it 
imposes duties on you, and you must be a man." 

Pierre was silent. 

"Perhaps later on I may tell you, my dear 
boy, that if I had not been there, God only 
knows what would have happened 1 You know, 
Uncle promised me only the day before yes- 
terday not to forget Boris. But he had no time. 
I hope, my dear friend, you will carry out your 
father's wish?" 

Pierre understood nothing of all this and 
coloring shyly looked in silence at Princess An- 
na Mikhaylovna. After her talk with Pierre, 
Anna Mikhaylovna returned to the Rost6vs' 
and went to bed. On waking in the morning she 
told the Rostovs and all her acquaintances the 
details of Count Bezukhov's death. She said the 
count had died as she would herself wish to die, 
that his end was not only touching but edify- 
ing. As to the last meeting between father and 
son, it was so touching that she could not think 
of it without tears, and did not know which 
had behaved better during those awful mo- 
mentsthe father who so remembered every- 
thing and everybody at the last and had spoken 
such pathetic words to the son, or Pierre, whom 
it had been pitiful to see, so stricken was he 
with grief, though he tried hard to hide it in or- 
der not to sadden his dying father. "It is pain- 
ful, but it does one good. It uplifts the soul to 
see such men as the old count and his worthy 
son," said she. Of the behavior of the eldest 
princess and Prince Vasili she spoke disapprov- 
ingly, but in whispers and as a great secret. 

CHAPTER XXV 

AT BALD HILLS, Prince Nicholas Andrevich 
Bolk6nski's estate, the arrival of young Prince 
Andrew and his wife was daily expected, but 
this expectation did not upset the regular rou- 
tine of life in the old prince's household. Gen- 
eral in Chief Prince Nicholas Andre*evich 
(nicknamed in society, "the King of Prussia") 
ever since the Emperor Paul had exiled him to 
his country estate had lived there continuously 
with his daughter, Princess Mary, and her com- 
panion, Mademoiselle Bourienne. Though in 
the new reign he was free to return to the capi- 
tals, he still continued to live in the country, 
remarking that anyone who wanted to see him 
could come the hundred miles from Moscow to 
Bald Hills, while he himself needed no one and 
nothing. He used to say that there are only two 
sources of human vice idleness and supersti- 
tion, and only two virtues activity and intel- 



ligence. He himself undertook his daughter's 
education, and to develop these two cardinal 
virtues in her gave her lessons in algebra and 
geometry till she was twenty, and arranged her 
life so that her whole time was occupied. He 
was himself always occupied: writing his mem- 
oirs, solving problems in higher mathematics, 
turning snuffboxes on a lathe, working in the 
garden, or superintending the building that 
was always going on at his estate. As regular- 
ity is a prime condition facilitating activity, 
regularity in his household was carried to the 
highest point of exactitude. He always came to 
table under precisely the same conditions, and 
not only at the same hour but at the same min- 
ute. With those about him, from his daughter 
to his serfs, the prince was sharp and invariably 
exacting, so that without being a hardhearted 
man he inspired such fear and respect as few 
hardhearted men would have aroused. Al- 
though he was in retirement and had now no 
influence in political affairs, every high official 
appointed to the province in which the prince's 
estate lay considered it his duty to visit him and 
waited in the lofty antechamber just as the ar- 
chitect, gardener, or Princess Mary did, till the 
prince appeared punctually to the appointed 
hour. Everyone sitting in this antechamber ex- 
perienced the same feeling of respect and even 
fear when the enormously high study door 
opened and showed the figure of a rather small 
old man, with powdered wig, small withered 
hands, and bushy gray eyebrows which, when 
he frowned, sometimes hid the gleam of his 
shrewd, youthfully glittering eyes. 

On the morning of the day that the young 
couple were to arrive, Princess Mary entered 
the antechamber as usual at the time appoint- 
ed for the morning greeting, crossing herself 
with trepidation and repeating a silent prayer. 
Every morning she came in like that, and ev- 
ery morning she prayed that the daily interview 
might pass off well. 

An old powdered manservant who was sit- 
ting in the antechamber rose quietly and said 
in a whisper: "Please walk in." 

Through the door came the regular hum of 
a lathe. The princess timidly opened the door 
which moved noiselessly and easily. She paused 
at the entrance. The prince was working at the 
lathe and after glancing round continued his 
work. 

The enormous study was full of things evi- 
dently in constant use. The large table covered 
with books and plans, the tall glass-fronted 
bookcases with keys in the locks, the high desk 



4 8 



WAR AND PEACE 



for writing while standing up, on which lay an 
open exercise book, and the lathe with tools 
laid ready to hand and shavings scattered 
aroundall indicated continuous, varied, and 
orderly activity. The motion of the small foot 
shod in a Tartar boot embroidered with silver, 
and the firm pressure of the lean sinewy hand, 
showed that the prince still possessed the tena- 
cious endurance and vigor of hardy old age. 
After a few more turns of the lathe he removed 
his foot from the pedal, wiped his chisel, 
dropped it into a leather pouch attached to the 
lathe, and, approaching the table, summoned 
his daughter. He never gave his children a bless- 
ing, so he simply held out his bristly cheek (as 
yet unshaven) and, regarding her tenderly and 
attentively, said severely: 

"Quite well? All right then, sit down." He 
took the exercise book containing lessons in 
geometry written by himself and drew up a 
chair with his foot. 

"For tomorrow!" said he, quickly finding 
the page and making a scratch from one para- 
graph to another with his hard nail. 

The princess bent over the exercise book on 
the table. 

"Wait a bit, here's a letter for you," said the 
old man suddenly, taking a letter addressed in 
a woman's hand from a bag hanging above the 
table, onto which he threw it. 

At the sight of the letter red patches showed 
themselves on the princess' face. She took it 
quickly and bent her head over it. 

"From H^loi'se?" asked the prince with a 
cold smile that showed hisstill sound, yellowish 
teeth. 1 

"Yes, it's from Julie," replied the princess 
with a timid glance and a timid smile. 

"I'll let two more letters pass, but the third 
I'll read," said the prince sternly; "I'm afraid 
you write much nonsense. I'll read the third I" 

"Read this if you like, Father," said the prin- 
cess, blushing still more and holding out the 
letter. 

"The third,! said the third 1" cried theprince 
abruptly, pushing the letter away, and leaning 
his elbows on the table he drew toward him 
the exercise book containing geometrical fig- 
ures. 

"Well, madam," he began, stooping over the 
book close to his daughter and placing an arm 
on the back of the chair on which she sat, so 

1 The prince is ironical. He knows the letter is 
from Julie, but alludes to Rousseau's novel, Julie, 
ou la nouvelle Htloise, which he, an admirer of 
Voltaire and of cold reason, heartily despised. TR. 



that she felt herself surrounded on all sides by 
the skrid scent of old age and tobacco, which 
she had known so long. "Now, madam, these 
triangles are equal; please note that the angle 
ABC . . ." 

The princess looked in a scared way at her 
father's eyes glittering close to her; the red 
patches on her face came and went, and it was 
plain that she understood nothing and was so 
frightened that her fear would prevent her un- 
derstanding any of her father's further explana- 
tions, however clear they might be. Whether it 
was the teacher's fault or the pupil's, this same 
thing happened every day: the princess' eyes 
grew dim, she could not see and could not hear 
anything, but was only conscious of her stern 
father's withered face close to her, of his breath 
and the smell of him, and could think only of 
how to get away quickly to her own room to 
make out the problem in peace. The old man 
was beside himself: moved the chair on which 
he was sitting noisily backward and forward, 
made efforts to control himself and not become 
vehement, but almost always did become ve- 
hement, scolded, and sometimes flung the ex- 
ercise book away. 

The princess gave a wrong answer. 

"Well now, isn't she a fool!" shouted the 
prince, pushing the book aside and turning 
sharply away; but rising immediately, he paced 
up and down, lightly touched his daughter's 
hair and sat down again. 

He drew up his chair and continued to ex- 
plain. 

"This won't do, Princess; it won't do," said 
he, when Princess Mary, having taken and 
closed the exercise book with the next day's 
lesson, was about to leave: "Mathematics are 
most important, madam! I don't want to have 
you like our silly ladies. Get used to it and 
you'll like it," and he patted her cheek. "It will 
drive all the nonsense out of your head." 

She turned to go, but he stopped her with a 
gesture and took an uncut book from the high 
desk. 

"Here is some sort of Key to the Mysteries 
that your Hdoi'se has sent you. Religious! I 
don't interfere with anyone's belief ... I have 
looked at it. Take it. Well, now go. Go." 

He patted her on the shoulder and himself 
closed the door after her. 

Princess Mary went back to her room with 
the sad, scared expression that rarely left her 
and which made her plain, sickly face yet plain- 
er. She sat down at her writing table, on which 
stood miniature portraits and which was lit- 



BOOK 

tered with books and papers. The princdfcs was 
as untidy as her father was tidy. She put down 
the geometry book and eagerly broke the seal 
of her letter. It was from her most intimate 
friend from childhood; that same Julie Kara- 
gina who had been at the Rost6vs' name-day 
party. 
Julie wrote in French: 

Dear and precious Friend, How terrible and 
frightful a thing is separation! Though I tell my- 
self that half my life and half my happiness are 
wrapped up in you, and that in spite of the distance 
separating us our hearts are united by indissoluble 
bonds, my heart rebels against fate and in spite of 
the pleasures and distractions around me I cannot 
overcome a certain secret sorrow that has been in 
my heart ever since we parted. Why are we not 
together as we were last summer, in your big study, 
on the blue sofa, the confidential sofa? Why can- 
not I now, as three months ago, draw fresh moral 
strength from your look, so gen tie, calm, and pene- 
trating, a look I loved so well and seem to see be- 
fore me as I write? 

Having read thus far, Princess Mary sighed 
and glanced into the mirror which stood on her 
right. It reflected a weak, ungraceful figure and 
thin face. Her eyes, always sad, now looked with 
particular hopelessness at her reflection in the 
glass. "She flatters me," thought the princess, 
turning away and continuing to read. But Julie 
did not flatter her friend, the princess' eyes- 
large, deep and luminous (it seemed as if at 
times there radiated from them shafts of warm 
light) were so beautiful that very of ten in spite 
of the plainness of her face they gave her an at- 
traction more powerful than that of beauty. 
But the princess never saw the beautiful ex- 
pression of her own eyes the look they had 
when she was not thinking of herself. As with 
everyone, her face assumed a forced unnatural 
expression as soon as she looked in a glass. She 
went on reading: 

All Moscow talks of nothing but war. One of my 
two brothers is already abroad, the other is with 
the Guards, who are starting on their march to the 
frontier. Our dear Emperor has left Petersburg 
and it is thought intends to expose his precious 
person to the chances of war. God grant that the 
Corsican monster who is destroying the peace of 
Europe may be overthrown by the angel whom it 
has pleased the Almighty, in His goodness, to give 
us as sovereignl To say nothing of my brothers, this 
war has deprived me of one of the associations 
nearest my heart. I mean young Nicholas Rostov, 
who with his enthusiasm could not bear to remain 
inactive and has left the university to join the 
army. I will confess to you, dear Mary, that in spite 
of his extreme youth his departure for the army 



ONE 



49 



was a great grief to me. This young man, of whom 
I spoke to you last summer, is so noble-minded 
and full of that real youthfulness which one sel- 
dom finds nowadays among our old men of twenty 
and, particularly, he is so frank and has so much 
heart. He is so pure and poetic that my relations 
with him, transient as they were, have been one 
of the sweetest comforts to my poor heart, which 
has already suffered so much. Someday I will tell 
you about our parting and all that was said then. 
That is still too fresh. Ah, dear friend, you are 
happy not to know these poignant joys and sor- 
rows. You are fortunate, for the latter are gen- 
erally the stronger! I know very well that Count 
Nicholas is too young ever to be more to me than 
a friend, but this sweet friendship, this poetic and 
pure intimacy, were what my heart needed. But 
enough of this! The chief news, about which all 
Moscow gossips, is the death of old Count Bezuk- 
hov, and his inheritance. Fancy! The three prin- 
cesses have received very little, Prince Vasili noth- 
ing, and it is Monsieur Pierre who has inherited 
all the property and has besides been recognized 
as legitimate; so that he is now Count Bezukhov 
and possessor of the finest fortune in Russia. It is 
rumored that Prince Vasili played a very despi- 
cable part in this affair and that he returned to 
Petersburg quite crestfallen. 

I confess I understand very little about all these 
matters of wills and inheritance; but I do know 
that since this young man, whom we all used to 
know as plain Monsieur Pierre, has become Count 
Bezukhov and the owner of one of the largest 
fortunes in Russia, I am much amused to watch 
the change in the tone and manners of the mam- 
mas burdened by marriageable daughters, and of 
the young ladies themselves, toward him, though, 
between you and me, he always seemed to me a 
poor sort of fellow. As for the past two years people 
have amused themselves by finding husbands for 
me (most of whom I don't even know), the match- 
making chronicles of Moscow now speak of me as 
the f u ture Countess Bezukhova. But you will under- 
stand that I have no desire for the post. A propos 
of marriages: do you know that a while ago that 
universal auntie Anna Mikhaylovna told me, un- 
der the seal of strict secrecy, of a plan of marriage 
for you. It is neither more nor less than with 
Prince Vasfli's son Anatole, whom they wish to re- 
form by marrying him to someone rich and dis~ 
tinguee, and it is on you that his relations' choice 
has fallen. I don't know what you will think of it, 
but I consider it my duty to let you know of it. He 
is said to be very handsome and a terrible scape- 
grace. That is all I have been able to find out 
about him. 

But enough of gossip. I am at the end of my 
second sheet of paper, and Mamma has sent for me 
to go and dine at the Apraksins'. Read the mystical 
book I am sending you; it has an enormous success 
here. Though there are things in it difficult for the 
feeble human mind to grasp, it is an admirable 



5 



WAR AND PEACE 



book which calms and elevates the soul. Adieu! 
Give my respects to monsieur your father and my 
compliments to Mademoiselle Bourienne. 1 em- 
brace you as I love you. JULIE 

P.S. Let me have news of your brother and his 
charming little wife. 

The princess pondered awhile with a 
thoughtful smile and her luminous eyes lit up 
so that her face was entirely transformed. Then 
she suddenly rose and with her heavy tread 
went up to the table. She took a sheet of paper 
and her hand moved rapidly over it. This is the 
reply she wrote, also in French: 

Dear and precious Friend, Your letter of the 
i$th has given me great delight. So you still love 
me, my romantic Julie? Separation, of which you 
say so much that is bad, does not seem to have had 
its usual effect on you. You complain of our sepa- 
ration. What then should I say, if I dared com- 
plain, I who am deprived of all who are dear to 
me? Ah, if we had not religion to console us life 
would be very sad. Why do you suppose that I 
should look severely on your affection for that 
young man? On such matters I am only severe with 
myself. I understand such feelings in others, and 
if never having felt them I cannot approve of 
them, neither do I condemn them. Only it seems 
to me that Christian love, love of one's neighbor, 
love of one's enemy, is worthier, sweeter, and bet- 
ter than the feelings which the beautiful eyes of a 
young man can inspire in a romantic and loving 
young girl like yourself. 

The news of Count Beziikhov's death reached 
us before your letter and my father was much 
affected by it. He says the count was the last rep- 
resentative but one of the great century, and that 
it is his own turn now, but that he will do all he 
can to let his turn come as late as possible. God 
preserve us from that terrible misfortune! 

I cannot agree with you about Pierre, whom I 
knew as a child. He always seemed to me to have 
an excellent heart, and that is the quality I value 
most in people. As to his inheritance and the part 
played by Prince Vasili, it is very sad for both. 
Ah, my dear friend, our divine Saviour's words, 
that it is easier for a camel to go through the eye 
of a needle than for a rich man to enter the King- 
dom of God, are terribly true. I pity Prince Vasili 
but am still more sorry for Pierre. So young, and 
burdened with such riches to what temptations 
he will be exposedl If I were asked what I desire 
most on earth, it would be to be poorer than the 
poorest beggar. A thousand thanks, dear friend, 
for the volume you have sent me and which has 
such success in Moscow. Yet since you tell me that 
among some good things it contains others which 
our weak human understanding cannot grasp, it 
seems to me rather useless to spend time in reading 
what is unintelligible and can therefore bear no 
fruit. I never could understand the fondness some 
people have for confusing their minds by dwelling 



on my^ical books that merely awaken their doubts 
and excite their imagination, giving them a bent 
for exaggeration quite contrary to Christian sim- 
plicity. Let us rather read the Epistles and Gospels. 
Let us not seek to penetrate what mysteries they 
contain; for how can we, miserable sinners that we 
are, know the terrible and holy secrets of Provi- 
dence while we remain in this flesh which forms 
an impenetrable veil between us and the Eternal? 
Let us rather confine ourselves to studying those 
sublime rules which our divine Saviour has left 
for our guidance here below. Let us try to conform 
to them and follow them, and let us be persuaded 
that the less we let our feeble human minds roam, 
the better we shall please God, who rejects all 
knowledge that does not come from Him; and the 
less we seek to fathom what He has been pleased 
to conceal from us, the sooner will He vouchsafe 
its revelation to us through His divine Spirit. 

My father has not spoken to me of a suitor, but 
has only told me that he has received a letter and 
is expecting a visit from Prince Vasili. In regard 
to this project of marriage for me, I will tell you, 
dear sweet friend, that I look on marriage as a 
divine institution to which we must conform. 
However painful it may be to me, should the Al- 
mighty ever lay the duties of wife and mother upon 
me I shall try to perform them as faithfully as 
I can, without disquieting myself by examining my 
feelings toward him whom He may give me for 
husband. 

I have had a letter from my brother, who an- 
nounces his speedy arrival at Bald Hills with his 
wife. This pleasure will be but a brief one, how- 
ever, for he will leave us again to take part in this 
unhappy war into which we have been drawn, 
God knows how or why. Not only where you are 
at the heart of affairs and of the world is the 
talk all of war, even here amid fieldwork and the 
calm of nature which townsfolk consider char- 
acteristic of the country rumors of war are heard 
and painfully felt. My father talks of nothing but 
marches and countermarches, things of which 1 
understand nothing; and the day before yesterday 
during my daily walk through the village I wit- 
nessed a heartrending scene. ... It was a convoy 
of conscripts enrolled from our people and start- 
ing to join the army. You should have seen the 
state of the mothers, wives, and children of the 
men who were going and should have heard the 
sobs. It seems as though mankind has forgotten 
the laws of its divine Saviour, Who preached love 
and forgiveness of injuries and that men attribute 
the greatest merit to skill in killing one another. 

Adieu, dear and kind friend; may our divine 
Saviour and His most Holy Mother keep you in 
their holy and all-powerful carel MARY 

"Ah, you are sending off a letter, Princess? I 
have already dispatched mine. I have written 
to my poor mother, "said the smiling Mademoi- 
selle Bourienne rapidly, in her pleasant mellow 



BOOK ONE 



tones and with guttural r's. She brought into 
Princess Mary's strenuous, mournful, and 
gloomy world a quite different atmosphere, 
careless, lighthearted, and self -satisfied. 

"Princess, I must warn you," she added, low- 
ering her voice and evidently listening to her- 
self with pleasure, and speaking with exagger- 
ated grasseyement? "the prince has been scold- 
ing Michael Ivanovich. He is in a very bad hu- 
mor, very morose. Be prepared." 

"Ah, dear friend," replied Princess Mary, "I 
have asked you never to warn me of the 
humor my father is in. I do not allow my- 
self to judge him and would not have others 
do so." 

The princess glanced at her watch and, see- 
ing that she was five minutes late in starting 
her practice on the clavichord, went into the 
sitting room with a look of alarm. Between 
twelve and two o'clock, as the day was mapped 
out, the prince rested and the princess played 
the clavichord. 

CHAPTER XXVI 

THE CRAY-HAIRED valet was sitting drowsily lis- 
tening to the snoring of the prince, who was in 
his large study. From the far side of the house 
through the closed doors came the sound of 
difficult passages twenty times repeated of a 
sonata by Dussek. 

Just then a closed carriage and another with 
a hood drove up to the porch. Prince Andrew 
got out of the carriage, helped his little wife to 
alight, and let her pass into the house before 
him. Old Tfkhon, wearing a wig, put his head 
out of the door of the antechamber, reported 
in a whisper that the prince was sleeping, and 
hastily closed the door. Tfkhon knew that nei- 
ther the son's arrival nor any other unusual 
event must be allowed to disturb the appointed 
order of the day. Prince Andrew apparently 
knew this as well as Tfkhon; he looked at his 
watch as if to ascertain whether his father's hab- 
its had changed since he was at home last, and, 
having assured himself that they had not, he 
turned to his wife. 

"He will get up in twenty minutes. Let us go 
across to Mary's room," he said. 

The little princess had grown stouter during 
this time, but her eyes and her short, downy, 
smiling lip lifted when she began to speak 
just as merrily and prettily as ever. 

"Why, this is a palace!" she said to her hus- 
band, looking around with the expression with 

1 The guttural pronunciation of the letter r, 
chiefly affected by Parisians.-TR. 



which people compliment their host at a ball. 
"Let's come, quick, quick!'* And with a glance 
round, she smiled at Tfkhon, at her husband, 
and at the footman who accompanied them. 

"Is that Mary practicing? Let's goquietlyand 
take her by surprise." 

Prince Andrew followed her with a courteous 
but sad expression. 

"You've grown older, Tfkhon," he said in 
passing to the old man, who kissed his hand. 

Before they reached the room from which the 
sounds of the clavichord came, the pretty, fair- 
haired Frenchwoman, Mademoiselle Bouri- 
enne, rushed out apparently beside herself with 
delight. 

"Ah! what joy for the princess!" exclaimed 
she: "At last! I must let her know." 

"No, no, please not . . . You are Mademoiselle 
Bourienne," said the little princess, kissing her. 
"I know you already through my sister-in-law's 
friendship for you. She was not expecting us?" 

They went up to the door of the sitting room 
from which came the sound of the oft-repeated 
passage of the sonata. Prince Andrew stopped 
and made a grimace, as if expecting something 
unpleasant. 

The little princess entered the room. The 
passage broke off in the middle, a cry was 
heard, then Princess Mary's heavy tread and the 
sound of kissing. When Prince Andrew went 
in the two princesses, who had only met once 
before for a short time at his wedding, were 
in each other's arms warmly pressing their lips 
to whatever place they happened to touch. 
Mademoiselle Bourienne stood near them press- 
ing her hand to her heart, with a beatific smile 
and obviously equally ready to cry or to laugh. 
Prince Andrew shrugged his shoulders and 
frowned, as lovers of music do when they hear 
a false note. The two women let go of one an- 
other, and then, as if afraid of being too late, 
seized each other's hands, kissing them and 
pulling them away, and again began kissing 
each other on the face, and then to Prince An- 
drew's surprise both began to cry and kissed 
again. Mademoiselle Bourienne also began to 
cry. Prince Andrew evidently felt ill at ease, 
but to the two women it seemed quite natural 
that they should cry, and apparently it never 
entered their heads that it could have been 
otherwise at this meeting. 

"Ah! my dear! . . . Ah! Mary! . . ." they sud- 
denly exclaimed, and then laughed. "I dreamed 
last night . . .""You were not expecting us? 
. . .""Ah! Mary, you have got thinner! . . ," 
"And you have grown stouter! ..." 



WAR AND PEACE 



"I knew the princess at once," put in Made- 
moiselle Bourienne. 

"And I had no idea! . . ." exclaimed Prin- 
cess Mary. "Ah, Andrew, I did not see you." 

Prince Andrew and his sister, hand in 
hand, kissed one another, and he told her she 
was still the same crybaby as ever. Princess 
Mary had turned toward her brother, and 
through her tears the loving, warm, gentle 
look of her large luminous eyes, very beautiful 
at that moment, rested on Prince Andrew's 
face. 

The little princess talked incessantly, her 
short, downy upper lip continually and rapid- 
ly touching her rosy nether lip when necessary 
and drawing up again next moment when her 
face broke into a smile of glittering teeth and 
sparkling eyes. She told of an accident they had 
had on the Spisski Hill which might have been 
serious for her in her condition, and immedi- 
ately after that informed them that she had left 
all her clothes in Petersburg and that heaven 
knew what she would have to dress in here; 
and that Andrew had quite changed, and that 
Kitty Odyntsova had married an old man, and 
that there was a suitor for Mary, a real one, 
but that they would talk of that later. Princess 
Mary was still looking silently at her brother 
and her beautiful eyes were full of love and 
sadness. It was plain that she was following a 
train of thought independent of her sister-in- 
law's words. In the midst of a description of 
the last Petersburg fete she addressed her broth- 
er: 

"So you are really going to the war, Andrew?" 
she said sighing. 

Lise sighed too. 

"Yes, and even tomorrow," replied her broth- 
en 

"He is leaving me here; God knows why, 
when he might have had promotion . . ." 

Princess Mary did not listen to the end, but 
continuing her train of thought turned to her 
sister-in-law with a tender glance at her figure. 

"Is it certain?" she said. 

The face of the little princess changed. She 
sighed and said: "Yes, quite certain. Ahl it is 
very dreadful . . ." 

Her lip descended. She brought her face 
close to her sister-in-law's and unexpectedly 
again began to cry. 

"She needs rest," said Prince Andrew with 
a frown. "Don't you, Lise? Take her to your 
room and I'll go to Father. How is he? Just the 
same?" 

"Yes, just the same. Though I don't know 



what fyour opinion will be," answered the prin- 
cess joyfully. 

"And are the hours the same? And the walks 
in the avenues? And the lathe?" asked Prince 
Andrew with a scarcely perceptible smile which 
showed that, in spite of all his love and respect 
for his father, he was aware of his weaknesses. 

"The hours are the same, and the lathe, and 
also the mathematics and my geometry lessons," 
said Princess Mary gleefully, as if her lessons 
in geometry were among the greatest delights 
of her life. 

When the twenty minutes had elapsed and 
the time had come for the old prince to get up, 
Tikhon came to call the young prince to his 
father. The old man made a departure from his 
usual routine in honor of his son's arrival: he 
gave orders to admit him to his apartments 
while he dressed for dinner. The old prince al- 
ways dressed in old-fashioned style, wearing an 
antique coat and powdered hair; and when 
Prince Andrew entered his father's dressing 
room (not with the contemptuous look and 
manner he wore in drawing rooms, but with 
the animated face with which he talked to 
Pierre), the old man was sitting on a large 
leather-covered chair, wrapped in a powder- 
ing mantle, entrusting his head to Tikhon. 

"Ah! here's the warrior! Wants to vanquish 
Buonaparte?" said the old man, shaking his 
powdered head as much as the tail, which Tik- 
hon was holding fast to plait, would allow. 

"You at least must tackle him properly, or 
else if he goes on like this he'll soon have us, 
too, for his subjects! How are you?" And he 
held out his cheek. 

The old man was in a good temper after his 
nap before dinner. (He used to say that a nap 
"after dinner was silver before dinner, gold- 
en.") He cast happy, sidelong glances at his son 
from under his thick, bushy eyebrows. Prince 
Andrew went up and kissed his father on the 
spot indicated to him. He made no reply on 
his father's favorite topic making fun of the 
military men of the day, and more particular- 
ly of Bonaparte. 

"Yes, Father, I have come to you and brought 
my wife who is pregnant," said Prince Andrew, 
following every movement of his father's face 
with an eager and respectful look. "How is your 
health?" 

"Only fools and rakes fall ill, my boy. You 
know me: I am busy from morning till night 
and abstemious, so of course I am well." 

"Thank God," said his son smiling. 

"God has nothing to do with it! Well, go on," 



BOOK ONE 



53 



he continued, returning to his hobby; "till me 
how the Germans have taught you to fight Bo- 
naparte by this new science you call 'strategy.' " 

Prince Andrew smiled. 

"Give me time to collect my wits, Father," 
said he, with a smile that showed that his fa- 
ther's foibles did not prevent his son from lov- 
ing and honoring him. "Why, I have not yet 
had time to settle downl" 

"Nonsense, nonsense!" cried the old man, 
shaking his pigtail to see whether it was firmly 
plaited, and grasping hisson by the hand. "The 
house for your wife is ready. Princess Mary will 
take her there and show her over, and they'll 
talk nineteen to the dozen. That's their wom- 
an's way! I am glad to have her. Sit down and 
talk. About Mikhelson's army I understand 
Tolst6y's too ... a simultaneous expedition. . . . 
But what's the southern army to do? Prussia is 
neutral ... I know that. What about Austria?" 
said he, rising from his chair and pacing up 
and down the room followed by Tikhon, who 
ran after him, handing him different articles 
of clothing. "What of Sweden? How will they 
cross Pomerania?" 

Prince Andrew, seeing that his father in- 
sisted, began at first reluctantly, but gradual- 
ly with more and more animation, and from 
habit changing unconsciously from Russian to 
French as he went on to explain the plan of 
operation for the coming campaign. He ex- 
plained how an army, ninety thousand strong, 
was to threaten Prussia so as to bring her out 
of her neutrality and draw her into the war; 
how part of that army was to join some Swedish 
forces at Stralsund; how two hundred and 
twenty thousand Austrians, with a hundred 
thousand Russians, were to operate in Italy and 
on the Rhine; how fifty thousand Russians and 
as many English were to land at Naples, and 
how a total force of five hundred thousand 
men was to attack the French from different 
sides. The old prince did not evince the least 
interest during this explanation, but as if he 
were not listening to it continued to dress while 
walking about, and three times unexpectedly 
interrupted. Once he stopped it by shouting: 
"The white one, the white one!" 

This meant that Tfkhon was not handing 
him the waistcoat he wanted. Another time he 
interrupted, saying: 

"And will she soon be confined?" and shak- 
ing his head reproachfully said: "That's bad! 
Go on, go on." 

The third interruption came when Prince 
Andrew was finishing his description. The old 



man began to sing, in the cracked voice of old 
age: "Malbrook s'en va-t-en guerre. Dieu salt 
quand reviendra." * 

His son only smiled. 

"I don't say it's a plan I approve of," said 
the son; "I am only telling you what it is. Na- 
poleon has also formed his plan by now, not 
worse than this one." 

"Well, you've told me nothing new," and the 
old man repeated, meditatively and rapidly: 

"Dieu salt quand reviendra. Go to the din- 
ing room." 

CHAPTER XXVII 

AT THE appointed hour the prince, powdered 
and shaven, entered the dining room where his 
daughter-in-law, Princess Mary, and Mademoi- 
selle Bourienne were already awaiting him to- 
gether with his architect, who by a strange ca- 
price of his employer's was admitted to table 
though the position of that insignificant indi- 
vidual was such as could certainly not have 
caused him to expect that honor. The prince, 
who generally kept very strictly to social dis- 
tinctions and rarely admitted even important 
government officials to his table, had unex- 
pectedly selected Michael Iviinovich (who al- 
ways went into a corner to blow his nose on his 
checked handkerchief) to illustrate the theory 
that all men are equals, and had more than 
once impressed on his daughter that Michael 
Ivanovich was "not a whit worse than you or 
I." At dinner the prince usually spoke to the 
taciturn Michael Ivanovich more often than to 
anyone else. 

In the dining room, which like all the rooms 
in the house was exceedingly lofty, the mem- 
bers of the household and the footmen one 
behind each chair stood waiting for the prince 
to enter. The head butler, napkin on arm, 
was scanning the setting of the table, making 
signs to the footmen, and anxiously glancing 
from the clock to the door by which the prince 
was to enter. Prince Andrew was looking at 
a large gilt frame, new to him, containing 
the genealogical tree of the Princes Bolk6n- 
ski, opposite which hung another such frame 
with a badly painted portrait (evidently by 
the hand of the artist belonging to the estate) 
of a ruling prince, in a crown an alleged de- 
scendant of Rurik and ancestor of the Bolkdn- 
skis. Prince Andrew, looking again at that gene- 
alogical tree, shook his head, laughing as a man 
laughs who looks at a portrait so characteristic 

1 "Marlborough is going to the wars; God knows 
when he'll return." 



54 



of the original as to be amusing. 

"How thoroughly like him that is!" he said 
to Princess Mary, who had come up to him. 

Princess Mary looked at her brother in sur- 
prise. She did not understand what he was 
laughing at. Everything her father did inspired 
her with reverence and was beyond question. 

"Everyone has his Achilles' heel," continued 
Prince Andrew. "Fancy, with his powerful 
mind, indulging in such nonsense!" 

Princess Mary could not understand the bold- 
ness of her brother's criticism and was about to 
reply, when the expected footsteps were heard 
coming from the study. The prince walked in 
quickly and jauntily as was his wont, as if in- 
tentionally contrasting the briskness of his 
manners with the strict formality of his house. 
At that moment the great clock struck two and 
another with a shrill tone joined in from the 
drawing room. The prince stood still; his lively 
glittering eyes from under their thick, bushy 
eyebrows sternly scanned all present and rested 
on the little princess. She felt, as courtiers do 
when the Tsar enters, the sensation of fear and 
respect which the old man inspired in all 
around him. He stroked her hair and then pat- 
ted her awkwardly on the back of her neck. 

"I'm glad, glad, to see you," he said, looking 
attentively into her eyes, and then quickly went 
to his place and sat down. "Sit down, sit down! 
Sit down, Michael Iva"novichl" 

He indicated a place beside him to his daugh- 
ter-in-law. A footman moved the chair for her. 

"Ho, ho!" said the old man, casting his eyes 
on her rounded figure. "You've been in a hur- 
ry. That's bad I" 

He laughed in his usual dry, cold, unpleas- 
ant way, with his lips only and not with his 
eyes. 

"You must walk, walk as much as possible, as 
much as possible," he said. 

The little princess did not, or did not wish 
to, hear his words. She was silent and seemed 
confused. The prince asked her about her fa- 
ther, and she began to smile and talk. He asked 
about mutual acquaintances, and she became 
still more animated and chattered away giving 
him greetings from various people and retail- 
ing the town gossip. 

"Countess Aprdksina, poor thing, has lost 
her husband and she has cried her eyes out," 
she said, growing more and more lively. 

As she became animated the prince looked 
at her more and more sternly, and suddenly, 
as if he had studied her sufficiently and had 
formed a definite idea of her, he turned away 



WAR AND PEACE 

and Addressed Michael Iv^novich. 

"Well, Michael Ivdnovich, our Bonaparte 
will be having a bad time of it. Prince Andrew" 
(he always spoke thus of his son) "has been 
telling me what forces are being collected 
against him! While you and I never thought 
much of him." 

Michael Ivdnovich did not at all know when 
"you and I" had said such things about Bon- 
aparte, but understanding that he was wanted 
as a peg on which to hang the prince's favorite 
topic, he looked inquiringly at the young 
prince, wondering what would follow. 

"He is a great tactician!" said the prince to 
his son, pointing to the architect. 

And the conversation again turned on the 
war, on Bonaparte, and the generals and states- 
men of the day. The old prince seemed con- 
vinced not only that all the men of the day 
were mere babies who did not know the ABC 
of war or of politics, and that Bonaparte was 
an insignificant little Frenchy, successful only 
because there were no longer any Potemkins 
or Suvrirovs left to oppose him; but he was al- 
so convinced that there were no political diffi- 
culties in Europe and no real war, but only a 
sort of puppet show at which the men of the 
day were playing, pretending to do something 
real. Prince Andrew gaily bore with his father's 
ridicule of the new men, and drew him on and 
listened to him with evident pleasure. 

"The past always seems good," said he, "but 
did not Suv6rov himself fall into a trap Mo- 
reau set him, and from which he did not know 
how to escape?" 

"Who told you that? Who?" cried the prince. 
"Suv6rov!" And he jerked away his plate, which 
Tikhon briskly caught. "Suvorov! . . . Consider, 
Prince Andrew. Two . . . Frederick and Suvo- 
rov; Moreau! . . . Moreau would have been a 
prisoner if Suv6rov had had a free hand; but 
he had the Hofs-kriegs-wurst-schnapps-Rath l 
on his hands. It would have puzzled the devil 
himself! When you get there you'll find out 
what those Hofs-kriegs-wurst-Raths are! Suv6- 
rov couldn't manage them so what chance has 
Michael Kutiizov? No, my dear boy," he con- 
tinued, "you and your generals won't get on 
against Buonaparte; you'll have to call in the 
French, so that birds of a feather may fight to- 
gether. The German, Pahlen, has been sent to 
New York in America, to fetch the Frenchman, 
Moreau," he said, alluding to the invitation 
made that year to Moreau to enter the Russian 

1 "Court- war-sausage-schnapps-Council," the 
Austrian Council of War. TR. 



BOOK ONE 



55 



service. . . . "Wonderful I . . . Were the Potem- 
kins, Suv6rovs, and Orl6vs Germans? No, lad, 
either you fellows have all lost your wits, or I 
have outlived mine. May God help you, but 
we'll see what will happen. Buonaparte has 
become a great commander among them! 
Hm! . . ." 

"I don't at all say that all the plans are good," 
said Prince Andrew, "I am only surprised at 
your opinion of Bonaparte. You may laugh as 
much as you like, but all the same Bonaparte is 
a great general 1" 

"Michael Ivdnovich!" cried the old prince 
to the architect who, busy with his roast meat, 
hoped he had been forgotten: "Didn't I tell 
you Buonaparte was a great tactician? Here, he 
says the same thing." 

"To be sure, your excellency," replied the 
architect. 

The prince again laughed his frigid laugh. 

"Buonaparte was born with a silver spoon 
in his mouth. He has got splendid soldiers. Be- 
sides he began by attacking Germans. And on- 
ly idlers have failed to beat the Germans. Since 
the world began everybody has beaten the Ger- 
mans. They beat no one except one another. 
He made his reputation fighting them." 

And the prince began explaining all the 
blunders which, according to him, Bonaparte 
had made in his campaigns and even in poli- 
tics. His son made no rejoinder, but it was evi- 
dent that whatever arguments were presented 
he was as little able as his father to change his 
opinion. He listened, refraining from a reply, 
and involuntarily wondered how this old man, 
living alone in the country for so many years, 
could know and discuss so minutely and acute- 
ly all the recent European military and politi- 
cal events. 

"You think I'm an old man and don't un- 
derstand the present state of affairs?" con- 
cluded his father. "But it troubles me. I don't 
sleep at night. Come now, where has this great 
commander of yours shown his skill?" he con- 
cluded. 

"That would take too long to tell, "answered 
the son. 

"Well, then gooff to your Buonaparte 1 Made- 
moiselle Bourienne, here's another admirer of 
that powder-monkey emperor of yours," he ex- 
claimed in excellent French. 

"You know, Prince, I am not a Bonapartist!" 

"Dieu salt quand reviendra" . . . hummed 
the prince out of tune and, with a laugh still 
more so, he quitted the table. 

The little princess during the whole discus- 



sion and the rest of the dinner sat silent, glanc- 
ing with a frightened look now at her father- 
in-law and now at Princess Mary. When they 
left the table she took her sister-in-law's arm 
and drew her into another room. 

"What a clever man your father is," said 
she; "perhaps that is why I am afraid of him." 

"Oh, he is so kind I "answered Princess Mary. 

CHAPTER XXVIII 

PRINCE ANDREW was to leave next evening. The 
old prince, not altering his routine, retired as 
usual after dinner. The little princess was in 
her sister-in-law's room. Prince Andrew in a 
traveling coat without epaulettes had been 
packing with his valet in the rooms assigned to 
him. After inspecting the carriage himself and 
seeing the trunks put in, he ordered the horses 
to be harnessed. Only those things he always 
kept with him remained in his room; a small 
box, a large canteen fitted with silver plate, two 
Turkish pistols and a saber a present from his 
father who had brought it from the siege of 
Ochdkov. All these traveling effects of Prince 
Andrew's were in very good order: new, clean, 
and in cloth covers carefully tied with tapes. 

When starting on a journey or changing 
their mode of life, men capable of reflection 
are generally in a serious frame of mind. At 
such moments one reviews the past and plans 
for the future. Prince Andrew's face looked 
very thoughtful and tender. With his hands 
behind him he paced briskly from corner to 
corner of the room, looking straight before him 
and thoughtfully shaking his head. Did he fear 
going to the war, or was he sad at leaving his 
wife? perhaps both, but evidently he did not 
wish to be seen in that mood, for hearing foot- 
steps in the passage he hurriedly unclasped his 
hands, stopped at a table as if tying the cover 
of the small box, and assumed his usual tran- 
quil and impenetrable expression. It was the 
heavy tread of Princess Mary that he heard. 

"I hear you have given orders to harness," 
she cried, panting (she had apparently been 
running), "and I did so wish to have another 
talk with you alone 1 God knows how long we 
may again be parted. You are not angry with 
me for coming? You have changed so, Andrii- 
sha," she added, as if to explain such a ques- 
tion. 

She smiled as she uttered his pet name, "An- 
drusha." It was obviously strange to her to 
think that this stern handsome man should be 
Andnisha the slender mischievous boy who 
had been her playfellow in childhood. 



WAR AND PEACE 



"And where is Lise?" he asked, answering 
her question only by a smile. 

"She was so tired that she has fallen asleep 
on the sofa in my room. Oh, Andrew I What a 
treasure of a wife you have," said she, sitting 
down on the sofa, facing her brother. "She is 
quite a child: such a dear, merry child. I have 
grown so fond of her." 

Prince Andrew was silent, but the princess 
noticed the ironical and contemptuous look 
that showed itself on his face. 

"One must be indulgent to littleweaknesses; 
who is free from them, Andrew? Don't forget 
that she has grown up and been educated in 
society, and so her position now is not a rosy 
one. We should enter into everyone's situation. 
Toutcomprendre,c'est tout pardonner. 1 Think 
what it must be for her, poor thing, after what 
she has been used to, to be parted from her 
husband and be left alone in the country, in 
her condition! It's very hard." 

Prince Andrew smiled as he looked at his 
sister, as we smile at those we think we thor- 
oughly understand. 

"You live in the country and don't think the 
life terrible," he replied. 

"I . . . that's different. Why speak of me? I 
don't want any other life, and can't, for I know 
no other. But think, Andrew: for a young soci- 
ety woman to be buried in the country during 
the best years of her life, all alone for Papa is 
always busy, and I ... well, you know what 
poor resources I have for entertaining a wom- 
an used to the best society. There is only Made- 
moiselle Bourienne " 

"I don't like your Mademoiselle Bourienne 
at all," said Prince Andrew. 

"No? She is very nice and kind and, above 
all, she's much to be pitied. She has no one, no 
one. To tell the truth, I don't need her, and 
she's even in my way. You know I always was 
a savage, and now am even more so. I like be- 
ing alone. . . . Father likes her very much. She 
and Michael Ivdnovich are the two people to 
whom he is always gentle and kind, because he 
has been a benefactor to them both. As Sterne 
says: 'We don't love people so much for the 
good they have done us, as for the good we 
have done them.' Father took her when she was 
homeless after losing her own father. She is 
very good-natured, and my father likes her way 
of reading. She reads to him in the evenings 
and reads splendidly." 

"To be quite frank, Mary, I expect Father's 
character sometimes makes things trying for 
1 To understand all is to forgive all. 



you, ^doesn't it?" Prince Andrew asked sud- 
denly. 

Princess Mary was first surprised and then 
aghast at this question. 

"For me? For me? , . . Trying for mel . . ." 
said she. 

"He always was rather harsh; and now I 
should think he's getting very trying," said 
Prince Andrew, apparently speaking lightly 
of their father in order to puzzle or test his 
sister. 

"You are good in every way, Andrew, but 
you have a kind of intellectual pride," said the 
princess, following the train of her own thoughts 
rather than the trend of the conversation "and 
that's a great sin. How can one judge Father? 
But even if one might, what feeling except 
veneration could such a man as my father 
evoke? And I am so contented and happy with 
him. I only wish you were all as happy as 
I am." 

Her brother shook his head incredulously. 

"The only thing that is hard for me ... I 
will tell you the truth, Andrew ... is Father's 
way of treating religious subjects. I don't un- 
derstand how a man of his immense intellect 
can fail to see what is as clear as day, and can 
go so far astray. That is the only thing that 
makes me unhappy. But even in this I can see 
lately a shade of improvement. His satire has 
been less bitter of late, and there was a monk 
he received and had a long talk with." 

"Ah! my dear, I am afraid you and your 
monk are wasting your powder," said Prince 
Andrew banteringly yet tenderly. 

"Ah! mon ami, I only pray, and hope that 
God will hear me. Andrew . . ." she said timid- 
ly after a moment's silence, "I have a great 
favor to ask of you." 

"What is it, dear?" 

"No promise that you will not refuse! It 
will give you no trouble and is nothing un- 
worthy of you, but it will comfort me. Promise, 
Andrusha! . . ." said she, putting her hand in 
her reticule but not yet taking out what she 
was holding inside it, as if what she held were 
the subject of her request and must not be 
shown before the request was granted. 

She looked timidly at her brother. 

"Even if it were a great deal of trouble . . ." 
answered Prince Andrew, as if guessing what it 
was about. 

"Think what you please! I know you are just 
like Father. Think as you please, but do this 
for my sakel Please do! Father's father, our 
grandfather, wore it in all his wars." (She still 



BOOK ONE 



did not take out what she was holding |n her 
reticule.) "So you promise?" 

"Of course. What is it?" 

"Andrew, I bless you with this icon and you 
must promise me you will never take it off. Do 
you promise?" 

"If it does not weigh a hundredweight and 
won't break my neck . . . To please you ..." 
said Prince Andrew. But immediately, notic- 
ing the pained expression his joke had brought 
to his sister's face, he repented and added: "I 
am glad; really, dear, I am very glad." 

"Against your will He will save and have 
mercy on you and bring you to Himself, for in 
Him alone is truth and peace," said she in a 
voice trembling with emotion, solemnly hold- 
ing up in both hands before her brother a 
small, oval, antique, dark-faced icon of the 
Saviour in a gold setting, on a finely wrought 
silver chain. 

She crossed herself, kissed the icon, and 
handed it to Andrew. 

"Please, Andrew, for my sake! . . ." 

Rays of gentle light shone from her large, 
timid eyes. Those eyes lit up the whole of her 
thin, sickly face and made it beautiful. Her 
brother would have taken the icon, but she 
stopped him. Andrew understood, crossed him- 
self and kissed the icon. There was a look of 
tenderness, for he was touched, but also a gleam 
of irony on his face. 

"Thank you, my dear." She kissed him on 
the forehead and sat down again on the sofa. 
They were silent for a while. 

"As I was saying to you, Andrew, be kind 
and generous as you always used to be. Don't 
judge Lise harshly," she began. "She is so sweet, 
so good-natured, and her position now is a very 
hard one." 

"I do not think I have complained of my 
wife to you, Masha, or blamed her. Why do 
you say all this to me?" 

Red patches appeared on Princess Mary's 
face and she was silent as if she felt guilty. 

"I have said nothing to you, but you have 
already been talked to. And I am sorry for 
that," he went on. 

The patches grew deeper on her forehead, 
neck, and cheeks. She tried to say something 
but could not. Her brother had guessed right: 
the little princess had been crying after dinner 
and had spoken of her forebodings about her 
confinement, and how she dreaded it, and had 
complained of her fate, her father-in-law, and 
her husband. After cry ing she had fallen asleep. 
Prince Andrew felt sorry for his sister. 



57 



"Know this, Mdsha: I can't reproach, have 
not reproached, and never shall reproach my 
wife with anything, and I cannot reproach my- 
self with anything in regard to her; and that 
always will be so in whatever circumstances 
I may be placed. But if you want to know the 
truth ... if you want to know whether I am 
happy? No! Is she happy? No! But why this is 
so I don't know . . ." 

As he said this he rose, went to his sister, and, 
stooping, kissed her forehead. His fine eyes lit 
up with a thoughtful, kindly, and unaccus- 
tomed brightness, but he was looking not at 
his sister but over her head toward the dark- 
ness of the open doorway. 

"Let us go to her, I must say good-by. Or 
go and wake her, and I'll come in a moment. 
Petrushka!" he called to his valet: "Come here, 
take these away. Put this on the seat and this 
to the right." 

Princess Mary rose and moved to the door, 
then stopped and said: "Andrew, if you had 
faith you would have turned to God and 
asked Him to give you the love you do not 
feel, and your prayer would have been an- 
swered." 

"Well, may be!" said Prince Andrew. "Go, 
Masha; I'll come immediately." 

On the way to his sister's room, in the pas- 
sage which connected one wing with the other, 
Prince Andrew met Mademoiselle Bourienne 
smiling sweetly. It was the third time that day 
that, with an ecstatic and artless smile, she had 
met him in secluded passages. 

"Oh! I thought you were in your room," she 
said, for some reason blushing and dropping 
her eyes. 

Prince Andrew looked sternly at her and an 
expression of anger suddenly came over his 
face. He said nothing to her but looked at her 
forehead and hair, without looking at her eyes, 
with such contempt that the Frenchwoman 
blushed and went away without a word. When 
he reached his sister's room his wife was al- 
ready awake and her merry voice, hurrying 
one word after another, came through the open 
door. She was speaking as usual in French, and 
as if after long self-restraint she wished to make 
up for lost time. 

"No, but imagine the old Countess Zubova, 1 
with false curls and her mouth full of false 
teeth, as if she were trying to cheat old age. 
... Ha, ha, ha! Mary!" 

This very sentence about Countess Ziibova 

1 The word zub means tooth, and a pun on this 
is intended. TR. 



WAR AND PEACE 



and this same laugh Prince Andrew had al- 
ready heard from his wife in the presence of 
others some five times. He entered the room 
softly. The little princess, plump and rosy, 
was sitting in an easy chair with her work 
in her hands, talking incessantly, repeating 
Petersburg reminiscences and even phrases. 
Prince Andrew came up, stroked her hair, 
and asked if she felt rested after their jour- 
ney. She answered him and continued her 
chatter. 

The coach with six horses was waiting at the 
porch. It was an autumn night, so dark that 
the coachman could not see the carriage pole. 
Servants with lanterns were bustling about in 
the porch. The immense house was brilliant 
with lights shining through its lofty windows. 
The domestic serfs were crowding in the hall, 
waiting to bid good-by to the young prince. 
The members of the household were all gath- 
ered in the reception hall: Michael Ivdnovich, 
Mademoiselle Bourienne, Princess Mary, and 
the little princess. Prince Andrew had been 
called to his father's study as the latter wished 
to say good-by to him alone. All were waiting 
for them to come out. 

When Prince Andrew entered the study the 
old man in his old-age spectacles and white 
dressing gown, in which he received no one but 
his son, sat at the table writing. He glanced 
round. 

"Going?" And he went on writing. 

"I've come to say good-by." 

"Kiss me here," and he touched his cheek: 
"Thanks, thanks!" 

"What do you thank me for?" 

"For not dilly-dallying and not hanging to a 
woman's apron strings. The Service before 
everything. Thanks, thanks!" And he went on 
writing, so that his quill spluttered and 
squeaked. "If you have anything to say, say it. 
These two things can be done together," he 
added. 

"About my wife ... I am ashamed as it is to 
leave her on your hands. . . ." 

"Why talk nonsense? Say what you want." 

"When her confinement is due, send to 
Moscow for an accoucheur. . . . Let him be 
here " 

The old prince stopped writing and, as if 
not understanding, fixed his stern eyes on his 
son. 

"I know that no one can help if nature does 
not do her work/' said Prince Andrew, evident- 
ly confused. "I know that out of a million cases 
only one goes wrong, but it is her fancy and 



mine. They have been telling her things. She 
has had a dream and is frightened." 

"Hm . . . Hm . . ." muttered the old prince 
to himself, finishing what he was writing. "I'll 
do it." 

He signed with a flourish and suddenly turn- 
ing to his son began to laugh. 

"It's a bad business, eh?" 

"What is bad, Father?" 

"The wife!" said the old prince, briefly and 
significantly. 

"I don't understand!" said Prince Andrew. 

"No, it can't be helped, lad," said the prince. 
"They're all like that; one can't unmarry. Don't 
be afraid; I won't tell anyone, but you know it 
yourself." 

He seized his son by the hand with small 
bony fingers, shook it, looked straight into his 
son's face with keen eyes which seemed to see 
through him, and again laughed his frigid 
laugh. 

The son sighed, thus admitting that his fa- 
ther had understood him. The old man con- 
tinued to fold and seal his letter, snatching up 
and throwing down the wax, the seal, and the 
paper, with his accustomed rapidity. 

"What's to be done? She's pretty! I will do 
everything. Make your mind easy," said he in 
abrupt sentences while sealing his letter. 

Andrew did not speak; he was both pleased 
and displeased that his father understood him. 
The old man got up and gave the letter to his 
son. 

"Listen!" said he; "don't worry about your 
wife: what can be done shall be. Now listen! 
Give this letter to Michael Ilaridnovich. 1 1 have 
written that he should make use of you in 
proper places and not keep you long as an ad- 
jutant: a bad position! Tell him I remember 
and like him. Write and tell me how he re- 
ceives you. If he is all right serve him. Nich- 
olas Bolk6nski's son need not serve under any- 
one if he is in disfavor. Now come here." 

He spoke so rapidly that he did not finish 
half his words, but his son was accustomed J;o 
understand him. He led him to the desk, raised 
the lid, drew out a drawer, and took out ati 
exercise book filled with his bold, tall, close 
handwriting. 

"I shall probably die before you. So remem- 
ber, these are my memoirs; hand them to the 
Emperor after my death. Now here is a Lom- 
bard bond and a letter; it is a premium for the 
man who writes a history of Suv6rov's wars. 
Send it to the Academy. Here are some jottings 

1 Kutiizov. 



BOOK ONE 



59 



for you to read when I am gone. You w Jl find 
them useful/' 

Andrew did not tell his father that he would 
no doubt live a long time yet. He felt that he 
must not say it. 

"I will do it all, Father," he said. 

"Well, now, good-by!" He gave his son his 
hand to kiss, and embraced him. "Remember 
this, Prince Andrew, if they kill you it will hurt 
me, your old father . . ." he paused unexpected- 
ly, and then in a querulous voice suddenly 
shrieked: "but if I hear that you have not be- 
haved like a son of Nicholas Bolk6nski, I shall 
be ashamed I" 

"You need not have said that to me, Father," 
said the son with a smile. 

The old man was silent. 

"I also wanted to ask you," continued Prince 
Andrew, "if I'm killed and if I have a son, do 
not let him be taken away from you as I said 
yesterday ... let him grow up with you. . . . 
Please." 

"Not let the wife have him?" said the old 
mart, and laughed. 

They stood silent, facing one another. The 
old man's sharp eyes were fixed straight on his 
son's. Something twitched in the lower part of 
the old prince's face. 

"We've said good-by. Gol" he suddenly 
shouted in a loud, angry voice, opening his 
door. 

"What is it? What?" asked both princesses 
when they saw for a moment at the door Prince 
Andrew and the figure of the old man in a 



white dressing gown, spectacled and wigless, 
shouting in an angry voice. 

Prince Andrew sighed and made no reply. 

"Well!" he said, turning to his wife. 

And this "Well!" sounded coldly ironic, as 
if he were saying: "Now go through your per- 
formance." 

"Andrew, already!" said the little princess, 
turning pale and looking with dismay at her 
husband. 

He embraced her. She screamed and fell un- 
conscious on his shoulder. 

He cautiously released the shoulder she 
leaned on, looked into her face, and carefully 
placed her in an easy chair. 

"Adieu, Mary," said he gently to his sister, 
taking her by the hand and kissing her, and 
then he left the room with rapid steps. 

The little princess lay in the armchair, Ma- 
demoiselle Bourienne chafing her temples. 
Princess Mary, supporting her sister-in-law, still 
looked with her beautiful eyes full of tears at 
the door through which Prince Andrew had 
gone and made the sign of the cross in his di- 
rection. From the study, like pistol shots, came 
the frequent sound of the old man angrily 
blowing his nose. Hardly had Prince Andrew 
gone when the study door opened quickly and 
the stern figure of the old man in the white 
dressing gown looked out. 

"Gone? That's all right!" said he; and look- 
ing angrily at the unconscious little princess, 
he shook his head reprovingly and slammed 
the door. 



Book Two: 1805 



CHAPTER I 

IN OCTOBER, 1805, a Russian army was occupy- 
ing the villages and towns of the Archduchy of 
Austria, and yet other regiments freshly arriv- 
ing from Russia were settling near the fortress 
of Braunau and burdening the inhabitants on 
whom they were quartered. Braunau was the 
headquarters of thecommander-in-chief, Kutii- 
zov. 

On October 11, 1805, one of the infantry 
regiments that had just reached Braunau had 
halted half a mile from the town, waiting to be 
inspected by the commander in chief. Despite 
the un-Russian appearance of the locality and 
surroundings fruit gardens, stone fences, tiled 
roofs, and hills in the distance and despite 
the fact that the inhabitants (who gazed with 
curiosity at the soldiers) were not Russians, the 
regiment had just the appearance of any Rus- 
sian regiment preparing for an inspection any- 
where in the heart of Russia. 

On the evening of the last day's march an or- 
der had been received that the commander in 
chief would inspect the regiment on the march. 
Though the words of the order were not clear 
to the regimental commander, and the ques- 
tion arose whether the troops were to be in 
marching order or not, it was decided at a con- 
sultation between the battalion commanders 
to present the regiment in parade order, on the 
principle that it is always better to "bow too 
low than not bow low enough." So the soldiers, 
after a twenty-mile march, were kept mefl iing 
and cleaning all night long without closing 
their eyes, while the adjutants and company 
commanders calculated and reckoned, and by 
morning the regiment instead of the strag- 
gling, disorderly crowd it had been on its last 
march the day before presented a well-or- 
dered array of two thousand men each of whom 
knew his place and his duty, had every button 
and every strap in place, and shone with clean- 
liness. And not only externally was all in or- 
der, but had it pleased the commander in chief 
to look under the uniforms he would have 



found on every man a clean shirt, and in every 
knapsack the appointed number of articles, 
"awl, soap, and all," as the soldiers say. There 
was only one circumstance concerning which 
no one could be at ease. It was the state of the 
soldiers' boots. More than half the men's boots 
were in holes. But this defect was not due to 
any fault of the regimental commander, for in 
spite of repeated demands boots had not been 
issued by the Austrian commissariat, and the 
regiment had marched some seven hundred 
miles. 

The commander of the regiment was an eld- 
erly, choleric, stout, and thick-set general with 
grizzled eyebrows and whiskers, and wider from 
chest to back than across the shoulders. He had 
on a brand-new uniform showing the creases 
where it had been folded and thick gold epau- 
lettes which seemed to stand rather than lie 
down on his massive shoulders. He had the air 
of a man happily performing one of the most 
solemn duties of his life. He walked about in 
front of the line and at every step pulled him- 
self up, slightly arching his back. It was plain 
that the commander admired his regiment, re- 
joiced in it, and that his whole mind was en- 
grossed by it, yet his strut seemed to indicate 
that, besides military matters, social interests 
arid the fair sex occupied no small part of his 
thoughts. 

"Well, Michael Mftrich, sir?" he said, ad- 
dressing one of the battalion commanders who 
smilingly pressed forward (it was plain that 
they both felt happy). "We had our hands full 
last night. However, I think the regiment is 
not a bad one, eh?" 

The battalion commander perceived the jo- 
vial irony and laughed. 

"It would not be turned off the field even on 
the Tsaritsin Meadow." * 

"What?" asked the commander. 

At that moment, on the road from the town 
on which signalers had been posted, two men 

1 The Tsaritsin Meadow, in St. Petersburg, was 
used for parades and reviews. TR. 



BOOK TWO 



61 



appeared on horse back. They were an aule-de- 
camp followed by a Cossack. 

The aide-de-camp was sent to confirm the 
order which had not been clearly worded the 
day before, namely, that the commander in 
chief wished to see the regiment just in the 
state in which it had been on the march: in 
their greatcoats, and packs, and without any 
preparation whatever. 

A member of the Hofkriegsrath from Vienna 
had come to Kutuzov the day before with pro- 
posals and demands for him to join up with 
the army of the Archduke Ferdinand and 
Mack, and Kutiizov, not considering this junc- 
tion advisable, meant, among other arguments 
in support of his view, to show the Austrian 
general the wretched state in which the troops 
arrived from Russia. With this object he in- 
tended to meet the regiment; so the worse the 
condition it was in, the better pleased the com- 
mander in chief would be. Though the aide- 
de-camp did not know these circumstances, he 
nevertheless delivered the definite order that 
the men should be in their greatcoats and in 
marching order, and that the commander in 
chief would otherwise be dissatisfied. On hear- 
ing this the regimental commander hung his 
head, silently shrugged his shoulders, and 
spread out his arms with a choleric gesture. 

"A fine mess we've made of it!" he remarked. 

"There now! Didn't I tell you, Michael Mit- 
rich, that if it was said 'on the march' it meant 
in greatcoats?" said he reproachfully to the 
battalion commander. "Oh, my God!" he ladd- 
ed, stepping resolutely forward. "Company 
commanders! " he shouted in a voice accustomed 
to comamnd. "Sergeants major! . . . How soon 
will he be here?" he asked the aide-de-camp 
with a respectful politeness evidently relating 
to the personage he was referring to. 

"In an hour's time, I should say." 

"Shall we have time to change clothes?" 

"I don't know, General " 

The regimental commander, going up to the 
line himself, ordered the soldiers to change in- 
to their greatcoats. The company commanders 
ran off to their companies, the sergeants major 
began bustling (the greatcoats were not in very 
good condition), and instantly the squares that 
had up to then been in regular order and si- 
lent began to sway and stretch and hum with 
voices. On all sides soldiers were running to 
and fro, throwing up their knapsacks with a 
jerk of their shoulders and pulling the straps 
over their heads, unstrapping their overcoats 
and drawing the sleeves on with upraised arms. 



In half an hour all was again in order, only 
the squares had become gray instead of black. 
The regimental commander walked with his 
jerky steps to the front of the regiment and 
examined it from a distance. 

"Whatever is this? This!" he shouted and 
stood still. "Commander of the third com- 
pany!" 

"Commander of the third company wanted 
by the general! . . . commander to the^getreral 
. . . third company to the commander.'/ The 
words passed along the lines and an adjutant 
ran to look for the missing officer. 

When the eager but misrepeated words had 
reached their destination in a cry of: "The 
general to the third company," the njissing of- 
ficer appeared from behind his company and, 
though he was a middle-aged man and not in 
the habit of running, trotted awkwardly stum- 
bling on his toes toward the general. The cap- 
tain's face showed the uneasiness of a school- 
boy who is told to repeat a lesson he has not 
learned. Spots appeared on his nose, the red- 
ness of which was evidently due to intemper- 
ance, and his mouth twitched nervously. The 
genera$lboked the captain up and down as he 
carne up panting, slackening his pace as he ap- 
proached. 

"You will soon be dressing your men in pet- 
ticoats! What is this?" shouted the regimental 
commander, thrusting forward his jaw and 
pointing at a soldier in the ranks of the third 
company in a greatcoat of bluish cloth, which 
contrasted with the others. "What have you 
been after? The commander in chief is ex- 
pected and you leave your place? Eh? I'll teach 
you to dress the men in fancy coats for a 
parade. . . . Eh . . . ?" 

The commander of the company, with his 
eyes fixed on his superior, pressed two fingers 
more and more rigidly to his cap, as if in this 
pres&ure lay his only hope of salvation. 

"\4jiell, why don't you speak? Whom have 
you^got there dressed up as a Hungarian?" 
said the commander with an austere gibe. 

"Your excellency . . ." 

"Well, your excellency, what? Your excel- 
lency! But what about your excellency? . . . no- 
body knows." 

"Your excellency, it's the officer Dolokhov, 
who has been reduced to the ranks," said the 
captain softly. 

"Well? Has he been degraded into a field 
marshal, or into a soldier? If a soldier, he should 
be dressed in regulation uniform like the oth- 
ers." 



WAR AND PEACE 



"Your excellency, you gave him leave your- 
self, on the march." 

"Gave him leave? Leave? That's just like you 
young men," said the regimental commander 
cooling down a little. "Leave indeed. . . . One 
says a word to you and you . . . What?" he added 
with renewed irritation, "I beg you to dress 
youffnen decently." 

And the commander, turning to look at the 
adfBifcfitr directed his jerky steps down the 
line. JHe was evidently pleased at his own dis- 
play of anger and walking up to the regiment 
wished to find a further excuse for wrath. Hav- 
ing snapped at an officer for an unpolished 
badge, at another because his line was not 
straigt&jhe reached the third company. 

"H-o-o-w are you standing? Where's your 
leg? Your leg?" shouted the cdfmnander with a 
tone of suffering in his voice, while there were 
still five men between him and D61okhov with 
his bluish-gray uniform. 

D61okhov slowly straightened his bent knee, 
lookii'ijf straight with his clear, insolent eyes in 
the general's faceiy 

"Why a blue toat? Off with it":*' . Sergeant 
major! Change his coat . . . the ras ^Wl^did 
not finish. 

"General, I must obey orders, but I am not 
bound to endure . . ." D61okhov hurriedly in- 
terrupted. 

"No talking in the ranks! . . . No talking, no 
talking!" 

"Not bound to endure insults," D61okhov 
concluded in loud, ringing tones. 

The eyes of the general and the soldier met. 
The general became silent, angrily pulling 
down his tight scarf. 

"I request you to have the goodness to change 
your coat," he said as he turned away. 

CHAPTER II 

"HE'S COMING!" shouted the signaler at that 
moment. 

The regimental commander, flushing, ran to 
his horse, seized the stirrup with trembling 
hands, threw his body across the saddle, righted 
himlelf, drew his saber, and with a happy and 
resolute countenance, opening his mouth awry, 
prepared to shout. The regiment fluttered like 
a bird preening its plumage and became mo- 
tionless. 

"Att-ention!" shouted the regimental com- 
mander in a soul-shaking voice which expressed 
joy for himself, severity for the regiment, and 
welcome for the approaching chief. 

Along the broad country road, edged on 



botty sides by trees, came a high, light blue Vi- 
ennese caliche, slightly creaking on its springs 
and drawn by six horses at a smart trot. Be- 
hind the caliche galloped the suite and a con- 
voy of Croats. Beside Kutuzov sat an Austrian 
general, in a white uniform that looked strange 
among the Russian black ones. The caliche 
stopped in front of the regiment. Kutiizov and 
the Austrian general were talking in low voices 
and Kutuzov smiled slightly as treading heavi- 
ly he stepped down from the carriage just as if 
those two thousand men breathlessly gazing at 
him and the regimental commander did not 
exist. 

The word of command rang out, and again 
the regiment quivered, as with a jingling sound 
it presented arms. Then amidst a dead silence 
the feeble voice of the commander in chief was 
heard. The regiment roared, "Health to your 
ex ... len . . . len . . . lency!" and again all be- 
came silent. At first Kutuzov stood still while 
the regiment moved; then he and the general 
in white, accompanied by the suite, walked be- 
tween the ranks. 

From the way the regimental commander sa- 
luted the commander in chief and devoured him 
with his eyes, drawing himself up obsequiously, 
and from the way he walked through the ranks 
behind the generals, bending forward and 
hardly able to restrain his jerky movements, 
and from the way he darted forward at every 
word or gesture of the commander in chief, it 
was evident that he performed his duty as a 
subordinate with even greater zeal than his 
duty as a commander. Thanks to the strictness 
and assiduity of its commander the regiment, in 
comparison with others that had reached Brau- 
nau at the same time, was in splendid condi- 
tion. There were only 217 sick and stragglers. 
Everything was in good order except the boots. 

Kutuzov walked through the ranks, some- 
times stopping to say a few friendly words to 
officers he had known in the Turkish war, some- 
times also to the soldiers. Looking at their boots 
he several times shook his head sadly, pointing 
them out to the Austrian general with an ex- 
pression which seemed to say that he was not 
blaming anyone, but could not help noticing 
what a bad state of things it was. The regimen- 
tal commander ran forward on each such occa- 
sion, fearing to miss a single word of the com- 
mander in chief's regarding the regiment. Be- 
hind Kutiizov, at a distance that allowed every 
softly spoken word to be heard, followed some 
twenty men of his suite. These gentlemen 
talked among themselves and sometimes 



BOOK 

laughed. Nearest of all to the comma Ader in 
chief walked a handsome adjutant. This was 
Prince Bolk6nski. Beside him was his comrade 
Nesvftski, a tall staff officer, extremely stout, 
with a kindly, smiling, handsome face and 
moist eyes. Nesvitski could hardly keep from 
laughter provoked by a swarthy hussar officer 
who walked beside him. This hussar, with a 
grave face and without a smile or a change in 
the expression of his fixed eyes, watched the 
regimental commander's back and mimicked 
his every movement. Each time the commander 
started and bent forward, the hussar started 
and bent forward in exactly the same manner. 
Nesvitski laughed and nudged the others to 
make them look at the wag. 

Kutuzov walked slowly and languidly past 
thousands of eyes which were starting from 
their sockets to watch their chief. On reaching 
the third company he suddenly stopped. His 
suite, not having expected this, involuntarily 
came closer to him. 

"Ah, Tim6khinl" said he, recognizing the 
red-nosed captain who had been reprimanded 
on account of the blue greatcoat. 

One would have thought it impossible for a 
man to stretch himself more than Tim6khin 
had done when he was reprimanded by the 
regimental commander, but now that the com- 
mander in chief addressed him he drew him- 
self up to such an extent that it seemed he 
could not have sustained it had the commander 
in chief continued to look at him, and so Ku- 
tuzov, who evidently understood his case and 
wished him nothing but good, quickly turned 
away, a scarcely perceptible smile flitting over 
his scarred and puffy face. 

"Another Ismail comrade/' said he. "A brave 
officer! Are you satisfied with him?" he asked 
the regimental commander. 

And the latter unconscious that he was be- 
ing reflected in the hussar officer as in a look- 
ing glass started, moved forward, and an- 
swered: "Highly satisfied, your excellency!" 

"We all have our weaknesses," said Kutuzov 
smiling and walking away from him. "He used 
to have a predilection for Bacchus." 

The regimental commander was afraid he 
might be blamed for this and did not answer. 
The hussar at that moment noticed the face of 
the red-nosed captain and his drawn-in stom- 
ach, and mimicked his expression and pose 
with such exactitude that Nesvftski could not 
help laughing. Kutiizov turned round. The 
officer evidently had complete control of his 
face, and while Kutiazov was turning managed 



TWO 63 

to make a grimace and then assume a most seri- 
ous, deferential, and innocent expression. 

The third company was the last, and Kutu- 
zov pondered, apparently trying to recollect 
something. Prince Andrew stepped forward 
from among the suite and said softly in French: 

"You told me to remind you of the officer 
D61okhov, reduced to the ranks in this regi- 
ment." -xflfeNMl 

"Where is D61okhov?" asked Kutuzov. 

D61okhov, who had already changed into a 
soldier's gray greatcoat, did not wait to be 
called. The shapely figure of the fair-haired sol- 
dier, with his clear blue eyes, stepped forward 
from the ranks, went up to the commander in 
chief, and presented arms. *&*** 

"Have yoi%j|fr complaint to make?" Kuttizov 
asked with^a slight frown. 

"This is D61okhov," said Prince Andrew. 

"Ah!" said Kutuzov. "I hope this will be a 
lesson to you. Do your duty. The Emperor is 
gracious, and I shan't forget you if you deserve 
well." 

The clejtf.blue eyes looked at the commander' 
in chi|jgust as boldly as they had looked at the 
^gftnental commander, seeming by their ex- 
pression to tear open the veil of convention 
that separates a commander in chief so widely 
from a private. 

"One thing I ask of your excellency," D61o- 
khov said in his firm, ringing, deliberate voice. 
"I ask an opportunity to atone for my fault and 
prove my devotion to His Majesty the Emper- 
or and to Russia!" 

Kutuzov turned away. The same smile of the 
eyes with which he had turned from Captain 
Tim6khin again flitted over his face. He turned 
away with a grimace as if to say that everything 
D61okhov had said to him and everything he 
could say had long been known to him, that he 
was weary of it and it was not at all what he 
wanted. He turned away and went to the car- 
riage. 

The regiment broke up into companies, 
which went to their appointed quarters near 
Braunau, where they hoped to receive boots and 
clothes and to rest after their hard marches. 

"You won't bear me a grudge, Prokh6r Ig- 
natych?"said the regimental commander, over- 
taking the third company on its way to its 
quarters and riding up to Captain Tim6khin 
who was walking in front. (The regimental 
commander's face now that the inspection was 
happily over beamed with irrepressible de- 
light.) "It's in the Emperor's service ... it can't 
be helped . . . one is sometimes a bit hasty on 



6 4 



WAR AND PEACE 



parade ... I am the first to apologize, you know 
me! . . . He was very pleased!" And he held out 
his hand to the captain. 

"Don't mention it, General, as if I'd be so 
bold!" replied the captain, his nose growing 
redder as he gave a smile which showed where 
two front teeth were missing that had been 
knocked out by the butt end of a gun at Ismail. 

"AfldLtf 11 Mr. D61okhov that I won't forget 
hinffnTmay be quite easy. And tell me, please 
I've been meaning to askhow is he behaving 
himself, and in general ..." 

"As far as theservice goes he is quite punctil- 
ious, your excellency; but his character . . ."said 
Timokhin. 

"And what about his character?" asked the 
regimental commander. ^ 

"It's different on different days," answered 
the captain. "One day he is sensible, well edu- 
cated, and good-natured, and the next he's a 
wild beast In Poland, if you please, he near- 
ly killed a Jew." 

"Oh, well, well!" remarked the regimental 
commander. "Still, one must have pity on a 
young man in misfortune. You know he has 
important connections . . . Well, theft*, you 
just ..." 

"I will, your excellency," said Timokhin, 
showing by his smile that he understood his 
commander's wish. 

"Well, of course, of course!" 

The regimental commander sought out D6- 
lokhov in the ranks and, reining in his horse, 
said to him: 

"After the next affair . . . epaulettes." 

D61okhov looked round but did not say any- 
thing, nor did the mocking smile on his lips 
change. 

"Well, that's all right," continued the regi- 
mental commander. "A cup of vodka for the 
men from me/' he added so that the soldiers 
could hear. "I thank you all! God be praised!" 
and he rode past that company and overtook 
the next one. 

"Well, he's really a good fellow, one can 
serve under him," said Tim6khin to the subal- 
tern beside him. 

"In a word, a hearty one . . ." said the subal- 
tern, laughing (the regimental commander was 
nicknamed King of Hearts). 

The cheerful mood of their officers after the 
inspection infected the soldiers. The company 
marched on gaily. The soldiers' voices could be 
heard on every side. 

"And they said Kutiizov was blind of one 
eye?" 



"Arid so he is! Quite blind!" 

"No, friend, he is sharper-eyed than you 
are. Boots and leg bands ... he noticed every- 
thing . . ." 

"When he looked at my feet, friend . . . well, 
thinks I ..." 

"And that other one with him, the Austrian, 
looked as if he were smeared with chalk as 
white as flour! I suppose they polish him up as 
they do the guns." 

"I say, F^deshon! . . . Did he say when the 
battles are to begin? You were near him. Ev- 
erybody said that Buonaparte himself was at 
Braunau." 

"Buonaparte himself! . . . Just listen to the 
fool, what he doesn't know! The Prussians are 
up in arms now. The Austrians, you see, are 
putting them down. When they've been put 
down, the war with Buonaparte will begin. 
And he says Buonaparte is in Braunau! Shows 
you're a fool. You'd better listen more careful- 

" 

"What devils these quartermasters are! See, 
the fifth company is turning into the village 
already . . . they will have their buckwheat 
cooked before we reach our quarters." 

"Give me a biscuit, you devil!" 

"And did you give me tobacco yesterday? 
That's just it, friend! Ah, well, never mind, 
here you are." 

"They might call a halt here or we'll have to 
do another four miles without eating." 

"Wasn't it fine when those Germans gave us 
lifts! You just sit still and are drawn along." 

"And here, friend, the people are quite beg- 
garly. There they all seemed to be Poles all 
under the Russian crown but here they're all 
regular Germans." 

"Singers to the front!" came the captain's or- 
der. 

And from the different ranks some twenty 
men ran to the front. A drummer, their leader, 
turned round facing the singers, and flourishing 
his arm, began a long-drawn-out soldiers' song, 
commencing with the words: "Morning 
dawned, the sun was rising" arid concluding: 
"On then, brothers, on to glory, led by Father 
Kdmenski" This song had been composed in 
the Turkish campaign and was now being sung 
in Austria, the only change being that the words 
"Father Kdmenski" were replaced by "Father 
Kutiizov." 

Having jerked out these last words as soldiers 
do and waved his arms as if flinging something 
to the ground, the drummer a lean, handsome 
soldier of fortylooked sternly at the singers 



BOOK TWO 



and screwed up his eyes. Then having satisfied 
himself that all eyes were fixed on him, he 
raised both arms as if carefully lifting some in- 
visible but precious object above his head and, 
holding it there for some seconds, suddenly 
flung it down and began: 

"Oh, my bower, oh, my bower . . ./" 

"Oh, my bower new . . ./" chimed in twenty 
voices, and the Castanet player, in spite of the 
burden of his equipment, rushed out to the 
front and, walking backwards before the com- 
pany, jerked his shoulders and flourished his 
castanets as if threatening someone. The sol- 
diers, swinging their arms and keeping time 
spontaneously, marched with long steps. Be- 
hind the company the sound of wheels, the 
creaking of springs, and the tramp of horses' 
hoofs were heard. Kutuzov and his suite were 
returning to the town. The commander in chief 
made a sign that the men should continue to 
march at ease, and he and all his suite showed 
pleasure at the sound of the singing and the 
sight of the dancing soldier and the gay and 
smartly marching men. In the second file from 
the right flank, beside which the carriage 
passed the company, a blue-eyed soldier invol- 
untarily attracted notice. It was D61okhov 
marching with particular grace and boldness 
in time to the song and looking at those driv- 
ing past as if he pitied all who were not at that 
moment marching with the company. The hus- 
sar cornet of Kutuzov's suite who had mim- 
icked the regimental commander, fell back 
from the carriage and rode up to D61okhov. 

Hussar cornet Zherk6v had at one time, in 
Petersburg, belonged to the wild set led by 
D61okhov. Zherk6v had met D61okhov abroad 
as a private and had not seen fit to recognize 
him. But now that Kutuzov had spoken to the 
gentleman ranker, he addressed him with the 
cordiality of an old friend. 

"My dear fellow, how are you?" said he 
through the singing, making his horse keep 
pace with the company. 

"How am I?" D61okhov answered coldly. "I 
am as you see." 

The lively song gave a special flavor to the 
tone of free and easv gaiety with which Zher- 
k6v spoke, and to the intentional coldness of 
D61okhov's reply. 

"And how do you get on with the officers?" 
inquired Zherk6v. 

"All right. They are good fellows. And how 
have you wriggled onto the staff?" 

"I was attached; I'm on duty." 

Both were silent. 



"She let the hawk fly upward from her wide 
right sleeve" went the song, arousing an invol- 
untary sensation of courage and cheerfulness. 
Their conversation would probably have been 
different but for the effect of that song. 

"Is it true that Austrians have been beaten?" 
asked D61okhov. 

"The devil only knowsl They say so." 

"I'm glad," answered D61okhov briefly and 
clearly, as the song demanded. 

"I say, come round some evening and we'll 
have a game of farol" said Zherk6v. 

"Why, have you too much money?" 

"Do come." 

"I can't. I've sworn not to. I won't drink and 
won't play till I get reinstated." 

"Well, that's only till the first engagement." 

"We shall see." 

They were again silent. 

"Come if you need anything. One can at least 
be of use on the staff . . ." 

D61okhov smiled. "Don't trouble. If I want 
anything, I won't beg I'll take itl" 

"Well, never mind; I only . . ." 

"And I only . . ." 

"Good-by." 

"Good health . . ." 

"It's a long, long way 
To my native land . . ." 

Zherkov touched his horse with the spurs; it 
pranced excitedly from foot to foot uncertain 
with which to start, then settled down, galloped 
past the company, and overtook the carriage, 
still keeping time to the song. 

CHAPTER III 

ON RETURNING from the review, Kutuzov took 
the Austrian general into his private room and, 
calling his adjutant, asked for some papers re- 
lating to the condition of the troops on their 
arrival, and the letters that had come from the 
Archduke Ferdinand, who was in command of 
the advanced army. Prince Andrew Bolk6nski 
came into the room with the required papers. 
Kutuzov and the Austrian member of the Hof- 
kriegsrath were sitting at the table on which a 
plan was spread out. 

"Ahl . . ." said Kutuzov glancing at Bolk6n- 
ski as if by this exclamation he was asking the 
adjutant to wait, and he went on with the con- 
versation in French. 

"All I can say, General," said he with a pleas- 
ant elegance of expression and intonation that 
obliged one to listen to each deliberately spok- 
en word. It was evident that Kutiizov himself 



66 



WAR AND PEACE 



listened with pleasure to his own voice. "All I 
can say, General, is that if the matter depend- 
ed on my personal wishes, the will of His Maj- 
esty the Emperor Francis would have been ful- 
filled long ago. I should long ago have joined 
the archduke. And believe me on my honor 
that to me personally it would be a pleasure to 
hand over the supreme command of the army 
into the hands of a better informed and more 
skillful generalof whom Austria has so many 
and to lay down all this heavy responsibility. 
But circumstances are sometimes too strong for 
us, General." 

And Kutuzov smiled in a way that seemed to 
say, "You are quite at liberty not to believe 
me and I don't even care whether you do or 
not, but you have no grounds for telling me so. 
And that is the whole point." 

The Austrian general looked dissatisfied, but 
had no option but to reply in the same tone. 

"On the contrary," he said, in a querulous 
and angry tone that contrasted with his flatter- 
ing words, "on the contrary, your excellency's 
participation in the common action is highly 
valued by His Majesty; but we think the pres- 
ent delay is depriving the splendid Russian 
troops and their commander of the laurels they 
have been accustomed to win in their battles," 
he concluded his evidently prearranged sen- 
tence. 

Kutuzov bowed with the same smile. 

"But that is my conviction, and judging by 
the last letter with which His Highness the 
Archduke Ferdinand has honored me, I imag- 
ine that the Austrian troops, under the direc- 
tion of so skillful a leader as General Mack, 
have by now already gained a decisive victory 
and no longer need our aid," said Kutuzov. 

The general frowned. Though there was no 
definite news of an Austrian defeat, there were 
many circumstances confirming the unfavor- 
able rumors that were afloat, and so Kutuzov's 
suggestion of an Austrian victory sounded much 
like irony. But Kutuzov went on blandly smil- 
ing with the same expression, which seemed to 
say that he had a right to suppose so. And, in 
fact, the last letter he had received from Mack's 
army informed him of a victory and stated stra- 
tegically the position of the army was very fa- 
vorable. 

"Give me that letter," said Kutuzov turning 
to Prince Andrew. "Please have a look at it" 
and Kutuzov with an ironical smile about the 
corners of his mouth read to the Austrian gen- 
eral the following passage, in German, from 
the Archduke Ferdinand's letter: 



We have fully concentrated forces of nearly 
seventy thousand men with whitfi to attack and 
defeat the enemy should he cross the Lech. Also, 
as we are masters of Ulm, we cannot be deprived 
of the advantage of commanding both sides of 
the Danube, so that should the enemy not cross 
the Lech, we can cross the Danube, throw ourselves 
on his line of communications, recross the river 
lower down, and frustrate his intention should he 
try to direct his whole force against our faithful 
ally. We shall therefore confidently await the 
moment when the Imperial Russian army will be 
fully equipped, and shall then, in conjunction 
with it, easily find a way to prepare for the enemy 
the fate he deserves. 

Kutuzov sighed deeply on finishing this para- 
graph and looked at the member of the Hof- 
kriegsrath mildly and attentively. 

"But you know the wise maxim, your excel- 
lency, advising one to expect the worst," said 
the Austrian general, evidently wishing to have 
done with jests and to come to business. He in- 
voluntarily looked round at the aide-de-camp. 

"Excuse me, General," interrupted Kutuzov, 
also turning to Prince Andrew. "Look here, my 
dear fellow, get from Kozl6vski all the reports 
from our scouts. Here are two letters from 
Count Nostitz and here is one from His High- 
ness the Archduke Ferdinand and here are 
these," he said, handing him several papers, 
"make a neat memorandum in French out of 
all this, showing all the news we have had of 
the movements of the Austrian army, and then 
give it to his excellency." 

Prince Andrew bowed his head in token of 
having understood from the first not only what 
had been said but also what Kutuzov would 
have liked to tell him. He gathered up the pa- 
pers and, with a bow to both, stepped softly over 
the carpet and went out into the waiting room. 

Though not much time had passed since 
Prince Andrew had left Russia, he had changed 
greatly during that period. In the expression 
of his face, in his movements, in his walk, scarce- 
ly a trace was left of his former affected languor 
and indolence. He now looked like a man who 
has no time to think of the impression he makes 
on others, but is occupied with agreeable and 
interesting work. His face expressed more sat- 
isfaction with himself and those around him, 
his smile and glance were brighter and more at- 
tractive. * > 

Kutuzov, whom he had overtaken in Poland, 
had received him very kindly/ promised not to 
forget Win* distinguished him |bove the other 
adjutants, and had taken him to Vienna and 
given him- the more serious commissions. From 



BOOK 

Vienna Kuttizov wrote to his old comrade, 
Prince Andrew's father. 

Your son bids fair to become an officer distin- 
guished by his industry, firmness, and expedition. 
I consider myself fortunate to have such a sub- 
ordinate by me. 

On Kutiizov's staff, among his fellow officers 
and in the army generally, Prince Andrew had, 
as he had had in Petersburg society, two quite 
opposite reputations. Some, a minority, ac- 
knowledged him to be different from them- 
selves and from everyone else, expected great 
things of him, listened to him, admired, and 
imitated him, and with them Prince Andrew 
was natural and pleasant. Others, the majority, 
disliked him and considered him conceited, 
cold, and disagreeable. But among these people 
Prince Andrew knew how to take his stand so 
that they respected and even feared him. 

Coming out of Kutiizov's room into the wait- 
ing room with the papers in his hand Prince 
Andrew came\ip to his comrade, the aide-de- 
camp on duty, Kozl6vski, who was sitting at the 
window with a book. 

"Well, Prince?" asked Kozl6vski. 

"I am ordered to write a memorandum ex- 
plaining why we are not advancing." 

"And why is it?" 

Prince Andrew shrugged his shoulders. 

"Any news from Mack?" 

"No." 

"If it were true that he has been beaten, news 
would have come." 

"Probably," said Prince Andrew moving to- 
ward the outer door. 

But at that instant a tall Austrian general in 
a greatcoat, with the order of Maria Theresa 
on his neck and a black bandage round his head, 
who had evidently just arrived, entered quick- 
ly, slamming the door. Prince Andrew stopped 
short. 

"Commander in Chief Kutuzov?" said the 
newly arrived general speaking quickly with a 
harsh German accent, looking to both sides 
and advancing straight toward the inner door. 

"The commander in chief is engaged," said 
Kozl6vski, going hurriedly up to the unknown 
general and blocking his way to the door. 
"Whom shall I announce?" 

The unknown general looked disdainfully 
down at Kozl6vski, who was rather short, as if 
surprised that anyone should not know him. 

"The commander in chief is engaged," re- 
peated Kozl6vski calmly. 

The general's face clouded, his lips quivered 



TWO 67 

and trembled. He took out a notebook, hur- 
riedly scribbled something in pencil, tore out 
the leaf, gave it to Kozl6vski, stepped quickly 
to the window, and threw himself into a chair, 
gazing at those in the room as if asking, "Why 
do they look at me?" Then he lifted his head, 
stretched his neck as if he intended to say some- 
thing, but immediately, with affected indiffer- 
ence, began to hum to himself, producing a 
queer sound which immediately broke off. The 
door of the private room opened and Kutu- 
zov appeared in the doorway. The general with 
the bandaged head bent forward as though run- 
ning away from some danger, and, making 
long, quick strides with his thin legs, went up 
to Kutiizov. 

"Vous voyez le malheureux Mack" he ut- 
tered in a broken voice. 

Kutiizov's face as he stood in the open door- 
way remained perfectly immobile for a few mo- 
ments. Then wrinkles ran over his face like a 
wave and his forehead became smooth again, 
he bowed his head respectfully, closed his eyes, 
silently let Mack enter his room before him, 
and closed the door himself behind him. 

The report which had been circulated that 
the Austrians had been beaten and that the 
whole army had surrendered at Ulm proved to 
be correct. Within half an hour adjutants had 
been sent in various directions with orders 
which showed that the Russian troops, who had 
hitherto been inactive, would also soon have to 
meet the enemy. 

Prince Andrew was one of those rare staff 
officers whose chief interest lay in the general 
progress of the war. When he saw Mack and 
heard the details of his disaster he understood 
that half the campaign was lost, understood all 
the difficulties of the Russian army's position, 
and vividly imagined what awaited it and the 
part he would have to play. Involuntarily he 
felt a joyful agitation at the thought of the hu- 
miliation of arrogant Austria and that in a 
week's time he might, perhaps, see and take 
part in the first Russian encounter with the 
French since Suv6rovmet them. He feared that 
Bonaparte's genius might outweigh all the cour- 
age of the Russian troops, and at the same time 
could not admit the idea of his hero being dis- 
graced. 

Excited and irritated by these thoughts 
Prince Andrew went toward his room to write 
to his father, to whom he wrote every day. In 
the corridor he met Nesvftski, with whom he 
shared a room, and the wag Zherk6v; they were 
as usual laughing. 



68 



WAR AND PEACE 



"Why are you so glum?" asked Nesvitski no- 
ticing Prince Andrew's pale face and glittering 
eyes. 

"There's nothing to be gay about/' answered 
Bolk6nski. 

Just as Prince Andrew met Nesvftski and 
Zherk6v, there came toward them from the oth- 
er end of the corridor, Strauch, an Austrian 
general who was on Kutiizov's staff in charge of 
the provisioning of the Russian army, and the 
member of the Hofkriegsrath who had arrived 
the previous evening. There was room enough 
in the wide corridor for the generals to pass the 
three officers quite easily, but Zherk6v, push- 
ing Nesvitski aside with his arm, said in a 
breathless voice, 

"They're coming! . . . they're coming! . . . 
Stand aside, make way, please make way!" 

The generals were passing by, looking as if 
they wished to avoid embarrassing attentions. 
On the face of the wag Zherk6v there sudden- 
ly appeared a stupid smile of glee which he 
seemed unable to suppress. 

"Your excellency," said he in German, step- 
ping forward and addressing the Austrian 
general, "I have the honor to congratulate 
you." 

He bowed his head and scraped first with one 
foot and then with the other, awkwardly, like 
a child at a dancing lesson. 

The member of the Hofkriegsrath looked at 
him severely but, seeing the seriousness of his 
stupid smile, could not but give him a moment's 
attention. He screwed up his eyes showing that 
he was listening. 

"I have the honor to congratulate you. Gen- 
eral Mack has arrived, quite well, only a little 
bruised just here," he added, pointing with a 
beaming smile to his head. 

The general frowned, turned away, and went 
on. 

"Gott, wie naiv!" * said he angrily, after he 
had gone a few steps. 

Nesvftski with a laugh threw his arms round 
Prince Andrew, but Bolk6nski, turning still 
paler, pushed him away with an angry look 
and turned to Zherkov. The nervous irritation 
aroused by the appearance of Mack, the news 
of his defeat, and the thought of what lay be- 
fore the Russian army found vent in anger at 
Zherk6v's untimely jest. 

"If you, sir, choose to make a buffoon of your- 
self," he said sharply, with a slight trembling 
of the lower jaw, "I can't prevent your doing 
so; but I warn you that if you dare to play the 

1 "Good God, what simplicity!" 



fool in my presence, I will teach you to behave 
yourself." 

Nesvitski and Zherk6v were so surprised by 
this outburst that they gazed at Bolk6nski si- 
lently with wide-open eyes. 

"What's the matter? I only congratulated 
them," said Zherkov. 

"I am not jestingwith you; please be silent!" 
cried Bolk6nski, and taking Nesvf tski's arm he 
left Zherkov, who did not know what to say. 

"Come, what's the matter, old fellow?" said 
Nesvftski trying to soothe him. 

"What's the matter?" exclaimed Prince An- 
drew standing still in his excitement. "Don't 
you understand that either we are officers serv- 
ing our Tsar and our country, rejoicing in the 
successes and grieving at the misfortunes of our 
common cause, or we are merely lackeys who 
care nothing for their master's business. Qua- 
rante mille homines massacres et Varme de 
nos allies detruite, et vous trouvez la le mot 
pour rire," 2 he said, as if strengthening his 
views by this French sentence. "C 9 est bien pour 
un garfonderiencornmecet individudontvous 
avez fait un ami, mais pas pour vous, pas pour 
vous* Only a hobbledehoy could amuse him- 
self in this way," he added in Russian but pro- 
nouncing the word with a French accent hav- 
ing noticed that Zherkov could still hear him. 

He waited a moment to see whether the cor- 
net would answer, but he turned and went out 
of the corridor. 

CHAPTER IV 

THE PAVLOGRAD HUSSARS were stationed two 
miles from Braunau. The squadron in which 
Nicholas Rostov served as a cadet was quartered 
in the German village of Salzeneck. The best 
quarters in the village were assigned to cavalry- 
captain Denfsov, the squadron commander, 
known throughout the whole cavalry division 
as Vdska Denfsov. Cadet Rost6v, ever since he 
had overtaken the regiment in Poland, had 
lived with the squadron commander. 

On October 1 1 , the day when all was astir at 
headquarters over the news of Mack's defeat, 
the camp life of the officers of this squadron 
was proceeding as usual. Denfsov, who had 
been losing at cards all night, had not yet come 
home when Rost6vrode back early in the morn- 
ing from a foraging expedition. Rost6v in his 

a "Forty thousand men massacred and the army 
of our allies destroyed, and you find that a cause 
for jesting!" 

8 "It is all very well for that good-for-nothing 
fellow of whom you have made a friend, but not 
for you, not for you." 



BOOK TWO 



cadet uniform, with a jerk to his horse, ro4e up 
to the porch, swung his leg over the saddle with 
a supple youthful movement, stood for a mo- 
ment in the stirrup as if loathe to part from his 
horse, and at last sprang down and called to his 
orderly. 

"Ah, Bondare*nko, dear friendl" said he to 
the hussar who rushed up headlong to the 
horse. "Walk him up and down, my dear fel- 
low," he continued, with that gay brotherly cor- 
diality which goodhearted young people show 
to everyone when they are happy. 

"Yes, your excellency," answered the Ukrain- 
ian gaily, tossing his head. 

"Mind, walk him up and down well!" 

Another hussar also rushed toward the horse, 
but Bondar^nko had already thrown the reins 
of the snaffle bridle over the horse's head. It 
was evident that the cadet was liberal with his 
tips and that it paid to serve him. Rost6v pat- 
ted the horse's neck and then his flank, and 
lingered for a moment. 

"Splendid I What a horse he will be I" he 
thought with a smile, and holding up his saber, 
his spurs jingling, he ran up the steps of the 
porch. His landlord, who in a waistcoat and 
a pointed cap, pitchfork in hand, was clearing 
manure from the cowhouse, looked out, and 
his face immediately brightened on seeing Ros- 
t6v. "Schon gut Morgen! Schon gut Morgen!" 1 
he said winking with a merry smile, evidently 
pleased to greet the young man. 

"Schon fleissig?"* said Rost6v with the same 
gay brotherly smile which did not leave his ea- 
ger face. "Hoch Oestreicher! Hoch Russen! 
Kaiser Alexander hoch!"* said he, quoting 
words often repeated by the German landlord. 

The German laughed, came out of the cow- 
shed, pulled off his cap, and waving it above 
his head cried: 

"Und die game Welt hoch!" 4 

Rost6v waved his cap above his head like the 
German and cried laughing, "Und vivat die 
game Welt!'" Though neither the German 
cleaning his cowshed nor Rost6v back with his 
platoon from foraging for hay had any reason 
for rejoicing, they looked at each other with 
joyful delight and brotherly love, wagged 
their heads in token of their mutual affec- 
tion, and parted smiling, the German return- 
ing to his cowshed and Rost6v going to the 

1 "A very good morning! A very good morning!" 
"Busy already?" 

"Hurrah for the Austrians! Hurrah for the 
Russians! Hurrah for the Emperor Alexander!" 
* "And hurrah for the whole world!" 



cottage he occupied with Denfsov. 

"What about your master?" he asked Lavru- 
shka, Denfsov's orderly, whom all the regiment 
knew for a rogue. 

"Hasn't been in since the evening. Must have 
been losing," answered Lavrushka. "I know by 
now, if he wins he comes back early to brag 
about it, but if he stays out till morning it 
means he's lost and will come back in a rage. 
Will you have coffee?" 

"Yes, bring some." 

Ten minutes later Lavrushka brought the 
coffee. "He's coming!" said he. "Now for trou- 
ble!" Rost6v looked out of the window and 
saw Denfsov coming home. Denfsov was a small 
man with a red face, sparkling black eyes, and 
black tousled mustache and hair. He wore an 
unfastened cloak, wide breeches hanging down 
in creases, and a crumpled shako on the back of 
his head. He came up to the porch gloomily, 
hanging his head. 

"Lavwuskal" he shouted loudly and angrily, 
"take it off, blockhead!" 

"Well, I am taking it off," replied Lavrushka's 
voice. 

"Ah, you're up already," said Denfsov, enter- 
ing the room. 

"Long ago," answered Rost6v, "I have al- 
ready been for the hay, and have seen Fraulein 
Mathilde." 

"Weally! And I've been losing, bwother. I 
lost yesterday like a damned fool!" cried Den- 
fsov, not pronouncing his r's. "Such ill luck! 
Such ill luck. As soon as you left, it began and 
went on. Hullo there! Tea!" 

Puckering up his face as though smiling, and 
showing his short strong teeth, he began with 
stubby fingers of both hands to ruffle up his 
thick tangled black hair. 

"And what devil made me go to that wat?" 
(an officer nicknamed "the rat") he said, rub- 
bing his forehead and whole face with both 
hands. "Just fancy, he didn't let me win a sin- 
gle cahd, not one cahd." 

He took the lighted pipe that was offered to 
him, gripped it in his fist, and tapped it on the 
floor, making the sparks fly, while he continued 
to shout. 

"He lets one win the singles and collahs it as 
soon as one doubles it; gives the singles and 
snatches the doubles!" 

He scattered the burning tobacco, smashed 
the pipe, and threw it away. Then he remained 
silent for a while, and all at once looked cheer- 
fully with his glittering, black eyes at Rost6v. 

"If at least we had some women here; but 



WAR AND PEACE 



there's nothing foh one to do but dwink. If we 
could only get to fighting soon. Hullo, who's 
there?" he said, turning to the door as he heard 
a tread of heavy boots and the clinking of spurs 
that came to a stop, and a respectful cough. 

"The squadron quartermaster 1" said La- 
vriishka. 

Denlsov's face puckered still more. 

"Wetched!" he muttered, throwing down a 
purse with some gold in it. "Wostov, deah fel- 
low, just see how much there is left and shove 
the purse undah the pillow," he said, and went 
out to the quartermaster. 

Rost6v took the money and, mechanically ar- 
ranging the old and new coins in separate piles, 
began counting them. 

"Ah! Telydnin! How d'ye do? They plucked 
me last night," came Denisov's voice from the 
next room. 

"Where? At Bykov's, at the rat's ... I knew 
it," replied a piping voice, and Lieutenant Tel- 
ydnin, a small officer of the same squadron, en- 
tered the room. 

Rost6v thrust the purse under the pillow and 
shook the damp little hand which was offered 
him. Telydnin for some reason had been trans- 
ferred from the Guards just before this cam- 
paign. He behaved very well in the regiment 
but was not liked; Rost6v especially detested 
him and was unable to overcome or conceal his 
groundless antipathy to the man. 

"Well, young cavalryman, how is my Rook 
behaving?" he asked. (Rook was a young horse 
Telydnin had sold to Rost6v.) 

The lieutenant never looked the man he was 
speaking to straight in the face; his eyes con- 
tinually wandered from one object to another. 

"I saw you riding this morn ing . . ." he added. 

"Oh, he's all right, a good horse," answered 
Rost6v, though the horse for which he had paid 
seven hundred rubbles was not worth half that 
sum. "He's begun to go a little lame on the left 
foreleg," he added. 

"The hoof's cracked! That's nothing. I'll 
teach you what to do and show you what kind 
of rivet to use." 

"Yes, please do," said Rost6v. 

"I'll show you, I'll show you! It's not a secret. 
And it's a horse you'll thank me for." 

"Then I'll have it brought round," said Ros- 
t6v wishing to avoid Telydnin, and he went 
out to give the order. 

In the passage Denisov, with a pipe, was 
squatting on the threshold facing the quarter- 
master who was reporting to him. On seeing 
Rost6v, Denfsov screwed up his face and point- 



ing of er his shoulder with his thumb to the 
room where Telydnin was sitting, he frowned 
and gave a shudder of disgust. 

"Ugh! I don't like that fellow," he said, re- 
gardless of the quartermaster's presence. 

Rost6v shrugged his shoulders as much as to 
say: "Nor do 1, but what's one to do?" and, 
having given his order, he returned to Telyd- 
nin. 

Telydnin was sitting in the same indolent 
pose in which Rostov had left him, rubbing 
his small white hands. 

"Well there certainly are disgusting people," 
thought Rost6v as he entered. 

"Have you told them to bring the horse?" 
asked Telydnin, getting up and looking care- 
lessly about him. 

"I have." 

"Let us go ourselves. I only came round to 
ask Denisov about yesterday's order. Have you 
got it, Denisov?" 

"Not yet. But where are you off to?" 

"I want to teach this young man how to shoe 
a horse," said Telydnin. 

They went through the porch and into the 
stable. The lieutenant explained how to rivet 
the hoof and went away to his own quarters. 

When Rostov went back there was a bottle 
of vodka and a sausage on the table. Denfsov 
was sitting there scratching with his pen on a 
sheet of paper. He looked gloomily in Rost6v's 
face and said: "I am witing to her." 

He leaned his elbows on the table with his 
pen in his hand and, evidently glad of a chance 
to say quicker in words what he wanted to 
write, told Rost6v the contents of his letter. 

"You see, my fwiend," he said, "we sleep 
when we don't love. We are childwen of the 
dust . . . but one falls in love and one is a God, 
one is pua' as on the fihst day of cweation . . . 
Who's that now? Send him to the devil, I'm 
busy!" he shouted to Lavrushka, who went up 
to him not in the least abashed. 

"Who should it be? You yourself told him to 
come. It's the quartermaster for the money." 

Denisov frowned and was about to shout 
some reply but stopped. 

"Wetched business," he muttered to himself. 
"How much is left in the puhse?" he asked, 
turning to Rost6v. 

"Seven new and three old imperials." 

"Oh, it's wetched! Well, what are you stand- 
ing there for, you sca'cwow? Call the quahteh- 
masteh," he shouted to Lavrushka. 

"Please, Denisov, let me lend you some: I 
have some, you know," said Rost6v, blushing. 



BOOK TWO 



"Don't like bowwowing from my own fel- 
lows, I don't/' growled Denisov. 

"But if you won't accept money from me like 
a comrade, you will offend me. Really I have 
some," Rost6v repeated. 

"No, I tell you." 

And Denisov went to the bed to get the purse 
from under the pillow. 

"Where have you put it, Wost6v?" 

"Under the lower pillow." 

"It's not there." 

Denfsov threw both pillows on the floor. The 
purse was not there. 

"That's a miwacle." 

"Wait, haven't you dropped it?" said Ros- 
tov, picking up the pillows one at a time and 
shaking them. 

He pulled off the quilt and shook it. The 
purse was not there. 

"Dear me, can I have forgotten? No, I re- 
member thinking that you kept it under your 
head like a treasure," said Rost6v. "I put it just 
here. Where is it?" he asked, turning to Lavni- 
shka. 

"I haven't been in the room. It must be 
where you put it." 

"But it isn't? . . ." 

"You're always like that; you thwow a thing 
down anywhere and forget it. Feel in your 
pockets." 

"No, if I hadn't thought of it being a treas- 
ure," said Rostov, "but I remember putting it 
there." 

Lavrtishka turned all the bftkling over, 
looked under the bed and under the table, 
searched everywhere, and stood still in the mid- 
dle of the room. Denisov silently watched La- 
vrushka's movements, and when the latter 
threw up his arms in surprise saying it was no- 
where to be found Denisov glanced at Rost6v. 

"Wost6v, you've not been playing schoolboy 
twicks. . . ." 

Rost6v felt Denf sov's gaze fixed on him, raised 
his eyes, and instantly dropped them again. All 
the blood which had seemed congested some- 
where below his throat rushed to his face and 
eyes. He could not draw breath. 

"And there hasn't been anyone in the room 
except the lieutenant and yourselves. It must 
be here somewhere," said Lavrtishka. 

"Now then, you devil's puppet, look alive 
and hunt for it!" shouted Denfsov, suddenly, 
turning purple and rushing at the man with a 
threatening gesture. "If the purse isn't found 
I'll flog you, I'll flog you all." 

Rost6v, his eyes avoiding Denisov, began 



buttoning his coat, buckled on his saber, and 
put on his cap. 

"I must have that purse, I tell you," shouted 
Denfsov, shaking his orderly by the shoulders 
and knocking him against the wall. 

"Denfsov, let him alone, I know who has 
taken it," said Rost6v, going toward the door 
without raising his eyes. Denisov paused, 
thought a moment, and, evidently understand- 
ing what Rost6v hinted at, seized his arm. 

"Nonsense!" he cried, and the veins on his 
forehead and neck stood out like cords. "You 
are mad, I tell you. I won't allow it. The purse 
is here! I'll flay this scoundwel alive, and it 
will be found." 

"I know who has taken it," repeated Rost6v 
in an unsteady voice, and went to the door. 

"And I tell you, don't you dahe to do it!" 
shouted Denfsov, rushing at the cadet to re- 
strain him. 

But Rost6v pulled away his arm and, with as 
much anger as though Denfsov were his worst 
enemy, firmly fixed his eyes directly on his face. 

"Do you understand what you're saying?" he 
said in a trembling voice. "There was no one 
else in the room except myself. So that if it is 
not so, then . . ." 

He could not finish, and ran out of the room. 

"Ah, may the devil take you and evewybody," 
were the last words Rost6v heard. 

Rostov went to Telynin's quarters. 

"The master is not in, he's gone to head- 
quarters," said Telydnin's orderly. "Has some- 
thing happened?" he added, surprised at the 
cadet's troubled face. 

"No, nothing." 

"You've only just missed him," said the or- 
derly. 

The headquarters were situated two miles 
away from Salzeneck, and Rost6v, without re- 
turning home, took a horse and rode there. 
There was an inn in the village which the of- 
ficers frequented. Rost6v rode up to it and saw 
Telyan in's horse at the porch. 

In the second room of the inn the lieuten- 
ant was sitting over a dish of sausages and a 
bottle of wine. 

"Ah, you've come here too, young man!" he 
said, smiling and raising his eyebrows. 

"Yes," said Rost6v as if it cost him a great 
deal to utter the word; and he sat down at the 
nearest table. 

Both were silent. There were two Germans 
and a Russian officer in the room. No one spoke 
and the only sounds heard were the clatter of 
knives and the munching of the lieutenant. 



WAR AND PEACE 



When Telydnin had finished his lunch he 
took out of his pocket a double purse and, 
drawing its rings aside with his small, white, 
turned-up fingers, drew out a gold imperial, 
and lifting his eyebrows gave it to the waiter. 

"Please be quick/' he said. 

The coin was a new one. Rost6v rose and 
went up to Telydnin. 

"Allow me to look at your purse," he said in 
a low, almost inaudible, voice. 

With shifting eyes but eyebrows still raised, 
Telydnin handed him the purse. 

"Yes, it's a nice purse. Yes, yes," he said, grow- 
ing suddenly pale, and added, "Look at it, 
young man." 

Rost6v took the purse in his hand, examined 
it and the money in it, and looked at Telydnin. 
The lieutenant was looking about in his usual 
way and suddenly seemed to grow very merry. 

"If we get to Vienna I'll get rid of it there 
but in these wretched little towns there's no- 
where to spend it," said he. "Well, let me have 
it, young man, I'm going." 

Rost6v did not speak. 

"And you? Are you going to have lunch too? 
They feed you quite decently here," continued 
Telydnin. "Now then, let me have it." 

He stretched out his hand to take hold of the 
purse. Rost6v let go of it. Telyinin took the 
purse and began carelessly slipping it into the 
pocket of his riding breeches, with his eyebrows 
lifted and his mouth slightly open, as if to say, 
"Yes, yes, I am putting my purse in my pocket 
and that's quite simple and is no one else's busi- 
ness." 

"Well, young man?" he said with a sigh, and 
from under his lifted brows he glanced into 
Rost6v's eyes. 

Some flash as of an electric spark shot from 
Telydnin's eyes to Rost6v's and back, and back 
again and again in an instant. 

"Come here," said Rostdv, catching hold of 
Telydnin's arm and almost dragging him to 
the window. "That money is Denisov's; you 
took it . . ." he whispered just above Telydnin's 
ear. 

"What? What? How dare you? What?" said 
Telyinin. 

But these words came like a piteous, despair- 
ing cry and an entreaty for pardon. As soon as 
Rost6v heard them, an enormous load of doubt 
fell from him. He was glad, and at the same in- 
stant began to pity the miserable man who 
stood before him, but the task he had begun 
had to be completed. 

"Heaven only knows what the people here 



may Imagine," muttered Telydnin, taking up 
his cap and moving toward a small empty room. 
"We must have an explanation . . ." 

"I know it and shall prove it," said Rost6v. 

"I . . ." 

Every muscle of Telydnin's pale, terrified 
face began to quiver, his eyes still shifted from 
side to side but with a downward look not ris- 
ing to Rost6v's face, and his sobs were audible. 

"Countl . . . Don't ruin a young fellow . . . 
here is this wretched money, take it . . ." He 
threw it on the table. "I have an old father 
and mother! . . ." 

RostcW took the money, avoiding Telynin's 
eyes, and went o'ut of the room without a word. 
But at the door he stopped and then retraced 
his steps. "O God," he said with tears in his 
eyes, "how could you do it?" 

"Count . . ." said Telydnin drawing nearer 
to him. 

"Don't touch me," said Rost6v,drawingback. 
"If you need it, take the money," and he threw 
the purse to him and ran out of the inn. 

CHAPTER V 

THAT SAME EVENING there was an animated dis- 
cussion among the squadron's officers in Denf- 
sov's quarters. 

"And I tell you, Rost6v, that you must apol- 
ogize to the colonel!" said a tall, grizzly-haired 
staff captain, with enormous mustaches and 
many wrinkles on his large features, to Rost6v 
who was crimson with excitement. 

The staff captain, Kfrsten, had twice been 
reduced to the ranks for affairs of honor and 
had twice regained his commission. 

"I will allow no one to call me a liar!" cried 
Rost6v. "He told me I lied, and I told him he 
lied. And there it rests. He may keep me on 
duty every day, or may place me under arrest, 
but no one can make me apologize, because if 
he, as commander of this regiment, thinks it 
beneath his dignity to give me satisfaction, 
then . . ." 

"You just wait a moment, my dear fellow, 
and listen," interrupted the staff captain in his 
deep bass, calmly stroking his long mustache. 
"You tell the colonel in the presence of other 
officers that an officer has stolen . . ." 

"I'm not to blame that the conversation be- 
gan in the presence of other officers. Perhaps I 
ought not to have spoken before them, but I 
am not a diplomatist. That's why I joined the 
hussars, thinking that here one would not need 
finesse; and he tells me that I am lying so let 
him give me satisfaction . . ." 



BOOK TWO 



"That's all right. No one thinks you a coward, 
but that's not the point. Ask Denfsov whether 
it is not out of the question for a cadet to de- 
mand satisfaction of his regimental command- 
er?" 

Denisov sat gloomily biting his mustache 
and listening to the conversation, evidently 
with no wish to take part in it. He answered 
the staff captain's question by a disapproving 
shake of his head. 

"You speak to the colonel about this nasty 
business before other officers," continued the 
staff captain, "and Bogddnich" (the colonel 
was called Bogdanich) "shuts you up." 

"He did not shut me up, he said I was tell- 
ing an untruth." 

"Well, have it so, and you talked a lot of 
nonsense to him and must apologize." 

"Not on any account!" exclaimed Rost6v. 

"I did not expect this of you," said the staff 
captain seriously and severely. "You don't wish 
to apologize, but, man, it's not only to him but 
to the whole regiment all of us you're to 
blame all round. The case is this: you ought to 
have thought the matter over and taken advice; 
but no, you go and blurt it all straight out be- 
fore the officers. Now what was the colonel to 
do? Have the officer tried and disgrace the 
whole regiment? Disgrace the whole regiment 
because of one scoundrel? Is that how you look 
at it? We don't see it like that. And Bogdanich 
was a brick: he told you you were saying what 
was not true. It's not pleasant, but what's to be 
done, my dear fellow? You landed yourself in 
it. And now, when one wants to smooth the 
thing over, some conceit prevents your apolo- 
gizing, and you wish to make the whole affair 
public. You are offended at being put on duty 
a bit, but why not apologize to an old and hon- 
orable officer? Whatever Bogdanich may be, 
anyway he is an honorable and brave old colo- 
nel! You're quick at taking offense, but you 
don't mind disgracing the whole regiment 1" 
The staff captain's voice began to tremble. 
"You have been in the regiment next to no 
time, my lad, you're here today and tomorrow 
you'll be appointed adjutant somewhere and 
can snap your fingers when it is said There are 
thieves among the Pdvlograd officers!' But it's 
not all the same to us! Am I not right, Denisov? 
It's not the same!" 

Denfsov remained silent and did not move, 
but occasionally looked with his glittering black 
eyes at Rost6v. 

"You value your own pride and don't wish 
to apologize," continued the staff captain, "but 



73 



we old fellows, who have grown up in and, 
God willing, are going to die in the regiment, 
we prize the honor of the regiment, and Bog- 
dnich knows it. Oh, we do prize it, old fel- 
low! And all this is not right, it's not right! You 
may take offense or not but I always stick to 
mother truth. It's not right!" 

And the staff captain rose and turned away 
from Rost6v. 

"That's twue, devil take i 1 1 " shouted Denfsov, 
jumping up. "Now then, Wost6v, now then!" 

Rost6v, growing red and pale alternately, 
looked first at one officer and then at the other. 

"No, gentlemen, no ... you mustn't think 
... I quite understand. You're wrong to think 
that of me ... I ... for me ... for the honor of 
the regiment I'd ... Ah well, I'll show that in 
action, and for me the honor of the flag . . .Well, 
never mind, it's true I'm to blame, to blame all 
round. Well, what else do you want? . . ." 

"Come, that's right, Count!" cried the staff 
captain, turning round and clapping Rost6v 
on the shoulder with his big hand. 

"I tell you," shouted Denisov, "he's a fine fel- 
low." 

"That's better, Count," said thestaff captain, 
beginning to address Rost6v by his title, as if 
in recognition of his confession. "Go and apol- 
ogize, your excellency. Yes, go!" 

"Gentlemen, I'll do anything. No one shall 
hear a word from me," said Rost6v in an implor- 
ing voice, "but I can't apologize, by God I can't, 
do what you will! How can I go and apologize 
like a little boy asking forgiveness?" 

Denfsov began to laugh. 

"It'll be worse for you. Bogddnich is vindic- 
tive and you'll pay for your obstinacy," said 
Kfrsten. 

"No, on my word it's not obstinacy! I can't 
describe the feeling. I can't . . ." 

"Well, it's as you like," said the staff captain. 
"And what has become of that scoundrel?" he 
asked Denfsov. 

"He has weported himself sick, he's to be 
stwuck off the list tomowwow," muttered Den- 
fsov. 

"It is an illness, there's no other way of ex- 
plaining it," said the staff captain. 

"Illness or not, he'd better not cwossmy path. 
I'd kill him!" shouted Denfsov in a bloodthirsty 
tone. 

Just then Zherk6v entered the room. 

"What brings you here?" cried the officers 
turning to the newcomer. 

"We're to go into action, gentlemen! Mack 
has surrendered with his whole army." 



74 



WAR AND PEACE 



"It's not true!" 

"I've seen him myself!" 

"What? Saw the real Mack? With hands and 
feet?" 

"Into action! Intoactioni Bring him a bottle 
for such news! But how did you come here?" 

"I've been sent back to the regiment all on 
account of that devil, Mack. An Austrian gen- 
eral complained of me. I congratulated him on 
Mack's arrival . . . What's the matter, Rost6v? 
You look as if you'd just come out of a hot 
bath." 

"Oh, my dear fellow, we're in such a stew 
here these last two days." 

The regimental adjutant came in and con- 
firmed the news brought by Zherk6v. They 
were under orders to advance next day. 

"We're going into action, gentlemen!" 

"Well, thank God! We've been sitting here 
too long!" 

CHAPTER VI 

Kunfzov FELL BACK toward Vienna, destroying 
behind him the bridges over the rivers Inn (at 
Braunau) and Traun (near Linz). On October 
23 the Russian troops were crossing tfye river 
Enns. At midday the Russian baggage train, 
the artillery, and columns of troops were de- 
filing through the town of Enns on both sides 
of the bridge. 

It was a warm, rainy, autumnal day. The wide 
expanse that opened out before the heights on 
which the Russian batteries stood guarding 
the bridge was at times veiled by a diaphanous 
curtain of slanting rain, and then, suddenly 
spread out in the sunlight, far-distant objects 
could be clearly seen glittering as though fresh- 
ly varnished. Down below, the little town could 
be seen with its white, red-roofed houses, its 
cathedral, and its bridge, on both sides of which 
streamed jostling masses of Russian troops. At 
the bend of the Danube, vessels, an island, and 
a castle with a park surrounded by the waters 
of the confluence of the Enns and the Danube 
became visible, and the rocky left bank of the 
Danube covered with pine forests, with a mystic 
background of green treetops and bluish gor- 
ges. The turrets of a convent stood out beyond 
a wild virgin pine forest, and far away on the 
other side of the Enns the enemy's horse patrols 
could be discerned. 

Among the field guns on the brow of the hill 
the general in command of the rearguard stood 
with a staff officer, scanning the country through 
his fieldglass. A little behind them Nesvftski, 
who had been sent to the rearguard by the com- 



maiVder in chief, was sitting on the trail of a 
gun carriage. A Cossack who accompanied him 
had handed him a knapsack and a flask, and 
Nesvf tski was treating some officers to pies and 
real doppelkummel. The officers gladly gath- 
ered round him, some on their knees, some 
squatting Turkish fashion on the wet grass. 

"Yes, the Austrian prince who built that cas- 
tle was no fool. It's a fine place! Why are you 
not eating any thing, gentlemen?" Nesvitski was 
saying. 

"Thank you very much, Prince," answered 
one of the officers, pleased to be talking to a 
staff officer of such importance. "It's a lovely 
place! We passed close to the park and saw 
two deer . . . and what a splendid house!" 

"Look, Prince," said another, who would 
have dearly liked to take another pie but felt 
shy, and therefore pretended to be examining 
the countryside "See, our infantrymen have 
already got there. Look there in the meadow 
behind the village, three of them are dragging 
something. They'll ransack that castle," he re- 
marked with evident approval. 

"So they will," said Nesvitski. "No, but what 
I should like," added he, munching a pie in his 
moist-lipped handsome mouth, "would be to 
slip in over there." 

He pointed with a smile to a turreted nun- 
nery, and his eyes narrowed and gleamed. 

"That would be fine, gentlemen!" 

The officers laughed. 

"Just to flutter the nuns a bit. They say there 
are Italian girls among them. On my word I'd 
give five years of my life for it!" 

"They must be feeling dull, too," said one of 
the bolder officers, laughing. 

Meanwhile the staff officer standing in front 
pointed out something to the general, who 
looked through his field glass. 

"Yes, so it is, so it is," said the general an- 
grily, lowering the field glass and shrugging his 
shoulders, "so it is! They'll be fired on at the 
crossing. And why are they dawdling there?" 

On the opposite side the enemy could be 
seen by the naked eye, and from their battery a 
milk-white cloud arose. Then came the distant 
report of a shot, and our troops could be seen 
hurrying to the crossing. 

Nesvftski rose, puffing, and went up to the 
general, smiling. 

"Would not your excellency like a little re- 
freshment?" he said. 

"It's a bad business," said the general with- 
out answering him, "our men have been wast- 
ing time." 



BOOK TWO 



75 



"Hadn't I better ride over, your excellency?" 
asked Nesvitski. 

"Yes, please do," answered the general, and 
he repeated the order that had already once 
been given in detail: "and tell the hussars that 
they are to cross last and to fire the bridge as I 
ordered; and the inflammable material on the 
bridge must be reinspected." 

"Very good," answered Nesvftski. 

He called the Cossack with his horse, told 
him to put away the knapsack and flask, and 
swung his heavy person easily into the saddle. 

"I'll really call in on the nuns," he said to 
the officers who watched him smilingly, and he 
rode off by the winding path down the hill. 

"Now then, let's see how far it will carry, 
Captain. Just tryl" said the general, turning to 
an artillery officer. "Have a little fun to pass 
the time." 

"Crew, to your gunsl" commanded the of- 
ficer. 

In a moment the men came running gaily 
from their campfires and began loading. 

"One!" came the command. 

Number one jumped briskly aside. The gun 
rang out with a deafening metallic roar, and 
a whistling grenade flew above the heads of 
our troops below the hill and fell far short of 
the enemy, a little smoke showing the spot 
where it burst. 

The faces of officers and men brightened up 
at the sound. Everyone gotupand began watch- 
ing the movements of our troops below, as 
plainly visible as if but a stone's throw away, 
and the movements of the approaching enemy 
farther off. At the same instant the sun came 
fully out from behind the clouds, and the clear 
sound of the solitary shot and the brilliance of 
the bright sunshine merged in a single joyous 
and spirited impression. 

CHAPTER VII 

Two OF the enemy's shots had already flown 
across the bridge, where there was a crush. Half- 
way across stood Prince Nesvitski, who had 
alighted from his horse and whose big body was 
jammed against the railings. He looked back 
laughing to the Cossack who stood a few steps 
behind him holding two horses by their bridles. 
Each time Prince Nesvftski tried to move on, 
soldiers and carts pushed him back again and 
pressed him against the railings, and all he 
could do was to smile. 

"What a fellow you are, friend!" said the 
Cossack to a convoy soldier with a wagon, who 
was pressing onto the infantrymen who were 



crowded together close to his wheels and his 
horses. "What a fellow! You can't wait a mo- 
ment! Don't you see the general wants to pass?" 

But the convoyman took no notice of the 
word "general" and shouted at the soldiers 
who were blocking his way. "Hi there, boys! 
Keep to the left! Wait a bit." But the soldiers, 
crowded together shoulder to shoulder, their 
bayonets interlocking, moved over the bridge 
in a dense mass. Looking down over the rails 
Prince Nesvftski saw the rapid, noisy little 
waves of the Enns, which rippling and eddying 
round the piles of the bridge chased each other 
along. Looking on the bridge^ he saw equally 
uniform living waves of soldiers, shoulder 
straps, covered shakos, knapsacks, bayonets, 
long muskets, and, under the shakos, faces with 
broad cheekbones, sunken cheeks, and listless 
tired expressions, and feet that moved through 
the sticky mud that covered the planks of the 
bridge. Sometimes through the monotonous 
waves of men, like a fleck of white foam on the 
waves of the Enns, an officer, in a cloak and 
with a type of face different from that of the 
men, squeezed his way along; sometimes like 
a chip of wood whirling in the river, an hussar 
on foot, an orderly, or a townsman was carried 
through the waves of infantry; and sometimes 
like a log floating down the river, an officers' or 
company's baggage wagon, piled high, leather- 
covered, and hemmed in on all sides, moved 
across the bridge. 

"It's as if a dam had burst," said the Cossack 
hopelessly. "Are there many more of you to 
come?" 

"A million all but one!" replied a waggish 
soldier in a torn coat, with a wink, and passed 
on followed by another, an old man. 

"If he" (he meant the enemy) "begins pop- 
ping at the bridge now," said the old soldier 
dismally to a comrade, "you'll forget to scratch 
yourself." 

That soldier passed on, and after him came 
another sitting on a cart. 

"Where the devil have the leg bands been 
shoved to?" said an orderly, running behind 
the cart and fumbling in the back of it. 

And he also passed on with the wagon. Then 
came some merry soldiers who had evidently 
been drinking. 

"And then, old fellow, he gives him one in 
the teeth with the butt end of his gun ..." a 
soldier whose greatcoat was well tucked up said 
gaily, with a wide swing of his arm. 

"Yes, the ham was just delicious . . ." an- 
swered another with a loud laugh. And they, 



7 6 



WAR AND PEACE 



too, passed on, so that Nesvftski did not learn 
who had been struck on the teeth, or what the 
ham had to do with it. 

"Bah! How they scurry. He just sends a ball 
and they think they'll all be killed," a sergeant 
was saying angrfly and reproachfully. 

"As it flies past me, Daddy, the ball I mean," 
said a young soldier with an enormous mouth, 
hardly refraining from laughing, "I felt like 
dying of fright. I did, 'pon my word, I got that 
frightened I" said he, as if bragging of having 
been frightened. 

That one also passed. Then followed a cart 
unlike any that had gone before. It was a Ger- 
man cart with a pair of horses led by a German, 
and seemed loaded with a whole houseful of 
effects. A fine brindled cow with a large udder 
was attached to the cart behind. A woman with 
an unweaned baby, an old woman, and a 
healthy German girl with bright red cheeks 
were sitting on some feather beds. Evidently 
these fugitives were allowed to pass by special 
permission. The eyes of all the soldiers turned 
toward the women, and while the vehicle was 
passing at foot pace all the soldiers' remarks re- 
lated to the two young ones. Every face bore 
almost the same smile, expressing unseemly 
thoughts about the women. 

"Just see, the German sausage is making 
tracks, tool" 

"Sell me the missis," said another soldier, ad- 
dressing the German, who, angry and fright- 
ened, strode energetically along with downcast 
eyes. 

"See how smart she's made herself! Oh, the 
devilsl" 

"There, Fed6tov,-you should be quartered 
on them!" 

"I have seen as much before now, mate!" 

"Where are you going?" asked an infantry 
officer who was eating an apple, also half smil- 
ing as he looked at the handsome girl. 

The German closed his eyes, signifying that 
he did not understand. 

"Take it if you like," said the officer, giving 
the girl an apple. 

The girl smiled and took it. Nesvftski like 
the rest of the men on the bridge did not take 
his eyes off the women till they had passed. 
When they had gone by, the same stream of 
soldiers followed, with the same kind of talk, 
and at last all stopped. As often happens, the 
horses of a convoy wagon became restive at the 
end of the bridge, and the whole crowd had to 
wait. 

"And why are they stopping? There's no 



proper order!" said the soldiers. "Where are 
you shoving to? Devil take you! Can't you wait? 
It'll be worse if he fires the bridge. See, here's 
an officer jammed in too" different voices 
were saying in the crowd, as the men looked at 
one another, and all pressed toward the exit 
from the bridge. 

Looking down at the waters of the Enns 
under the bridge, Nesvftski suddenly heard a 
sound new to him, of something swiftly ap- 
proaching . . . something big, that splashed in- 
to the water. 

"Just see where it carries to!" a soldier near 
by said sternly, looking round at the sound. 

"Encouraging us to get along quicker," said 
another uneasily. 

The crowd moved on again. Nesvftski re- 
alized that it was a cannon ball. 

"Hey, Cossack, my horse!" he said. "Now, 
then, you there! get out of theway! Makeway!" 

With great difficulty he managed to get to 
his horse, and shouting continually he moved 
on. The soldiers squeezed themselves to make 
way for him, but again pressed on him so that 
they jammed his leg, and those nearest him 
were not to blame for they were themselves 
pressed still harder from behind. 

"Nesvftski, Nesvftski! you numskull!" came 
a hoarse voice from behind him. 

Nesvftski looked round and saw, some fif- 
teen paces away but separated by the living 
mass of moving infantry, Vaska Denfsov, red 
and shaggy, with his cap on the back of his 
black head and a cloak hanging jauntily over 
his shoulder. 

"Tell these devils, these fiends, to let me 
pass!" shouted Denfsov evidently in a fit of 
rage, his coal-black eyes with their bloodshot 
whites glittering and rolling as he waved his 
sheathed saber in a small bare hand as red as 
his face. 

"Ah, Vaska!" joyfully replied Nesvftski. 
"What's up with you?" 

"The squadwon can't pass," shouted Vska 
Denfsov, showing his white teeth fiercely and 
spurring his black thoroughbred Arab, which 
twitched its ears as the bayonets touched it, 
and snorted, spurting white foam from his bit, 
tramping the planks of the bridge with his 
hoofs, and apparently ready to jump over the 
railings had his rider let him. "What is this? 
They're like sheep! Just like sheep! Out of the 
way! . . . Let us pass! . . . Stop there, you devil 
with the cart! I'll hack you with my saber!" he 
shouted, actually drawing his saber from its 
scabbard and flourishing it. 



BOOK TWO 



77 



The soldiers crowded against one another 
with terrified faces, and Denfsov joined Nesvit- 
ski. 

"How's it you're not drunk today?" said Nes- 
vitski when the other had ridden up to him. 

"They don't even give one time to dwink!" 
answered Vdska Denisov. "They keep dwag- 
ging the wegiment to and fwo all day. If they 
mean to fight, let's fight. But the devil knows 
what this is." 

"What a dandy you are today!" said Nesvft- 
ski, looking at Denfsov's new cloak and saddle- 
doth. 

Denisov smiled, took out of his sabretache a 
handkerchief that diffused a smell of perfume, 
and put it to Nesvftski's nose. 

"Of course. I'm going into action! I've 
shaved, bwushed my teeth, and scented my- 
self." 

The imposing figure of Nesvitski followed 
by his Cossack, and the determination of Deni- 
sov who flourished his sword and shouted fran- 
tically, had such an effect that they managed to 
squeeze through to the farther side of the 
bridge and stopped the infantry. Beside the 
bridge Nesvftski found the colonel to whom 
he had to deliver the order, and having done 
this he rode back. 

Having cleared the way Denisov stopped at 
the end of the bridge. Carelessly holding in his 
stallion that was neighing and pawing the 
ground, eager to rejoin its fellows, he watched 
his squadron draw nearer. Then the clang of 
hoofs, as of several horses galloping, resounded 
on the planks of the bridge, and the squadron, 
officers in front and men four abreast, spread 
across the bridge and began to emerge on his 
side of it. 

The infantry who had been stopped crowd- 
ed near the bridge in the trampled mud and 
gazed with that particular feeling of ill-will, 
estrangement, and ridicule with which troops 
of different arms usually encounter one anoth- 
er at the clean, smart hussars who moved past 
them in regular order. 

"Smart lads! Only fit for a fair!" said one. 

"What good are they? They're led about 
just for show!" remarked another. 

"Don't kick up the dust, you infantry 1" jested 
an hussar whose prancing horse had splashed 
mud over some foot soldiers. 

"I'd like to put you on a two days' march 
with a knapsack! Your fine cords would soon 
get a bit rubbed," said an infantryman, wiping 
the mud off his face with his sleeve. "Perched 
up there, you're more like a bird than a man." 



"There now, Zikin, they ought to put you 
on a horse. You'd look fine," said a corporal, 
chaffing a thin little soldier who bent under 
the weight of his knapsack. 

"Take a stick between your legs, that'll suit 
you for a horse!" the hussar shouted back. 

CHAPTER VIII 

THE LAST of the infantry hurriedly crossed the 
bridge, squeezing together as they approached 
it as if passing through a funnel. At last the 
baggage wagons had all crossed, the crush was 
less, and the last battalion came on to the bridge. 
Only Denisov's squadron of hussars remained 
on the farther side of the bridge facing the en- 
emy, who could be seen from the hill on the 
opposite bank but was not yet visible from the 
bridge, for the horizon as seen from the valley 
through which the river flowed was formed by 
the rising ground only half a mile away. At the 
foot of the hill lay wasteland over which a few 
groups of our Cossack scouts were moving. Sud- 
denly on the road at the top of the high ground, 
artillery and troops in blue uniform were seen. 
These were the French. A group of Cossack 
scouts retired down the hill at a trot. All the 
officers and men of Denisov's squadron, though 
they tried to talk of other things and to look in 
other directions, thought only of what was 
there on the hilltop, and kept constantly look- 
ing at the patches appearing on the skyline, 
which they knew to be the enemy's troops. The 
weather had cleared again since noon and the 
sun was descending brightly upon the Danube 
and the dark hills around it. It was calm, and 
at intervals the bugle calls and the shouts of 
the enemy could be heard from the hill. There 
was no one now between* the squadron and the 
enemy except a few scattered skirmishers. An 
empty space of some seven hundred yards was 
all that separated them. The enemy ceased fir- 
ing, and that stern, threatening, inaccessible, 
and intangible line which separates two hostile 
armies was all the more clearly felt. 

"One step beyond that boundary line which 
resembles the line dividing the living from the 
dead lies uncertainty, suffering, and death. And 
what is there? Who is there? there beyond that 
field, that tree, that roof lit up by the sun? No 
one knows, but one wants to know. You fear 
and yet long to cross that line, and know that 
sooner or later it must be crossed and you will 
have to find out what is there, just as you will 
inevitably have to learn what lies the other side 
of death. But you are strong, healthy, cheerful, 
and excited, and are surrounded by other such 



7 8 



WAR AND PEACE 



excitedly animated and healthy men." So 
thinks, or at any rate feels, anyone who comes 
in sight of the enemy, and that feeling gives a 
particular glamour and glad keenness of im- 
pression to everything that takes place at such 
moments. 

On the high ground where the enemy was, 
the smoke of a cannon rose, and a ball flew 
whistling over the heads of the hussar squad- 
ron. The officers who had been standing to- 
gether rode off to their places. The hussars be- 
gan carefully aligning their horses. Silence fell 
on the whole squadron. All were looking at the 
enemy in front and at the squadron command- 
er, awaiting the word of command. A second 
and a third cannon ball flew past. Evidently 
they were firing at the hussars, but the balls 
with rapid rhythmic whistle flew over the heads 
of the horsemen and fell somewhere beyond 
them. The hussars did not look round, but at 
the sound of each shot, as at the word of com- 
mand, the whole squadron with its rows of 
faces so alike yet so different, holding its breath 
while the ball flew past, rose in the stirrups and 
sank back again. The soldiers without turning 
their heads glanced at one another, curious to 
see their comrades' impression. Every face, from 
Denisov's to that of the bugler, showed one 
common expression of conflict, irritation, and 
excitement, around chin and mouth. The 
quartermaster frowned, looking at the soldiers 
as if threatening to punish them. Cadet Mir6- 
nov ducked every time a ball flew past. Rost6v 
on the left flank, mounted on his Rook a hand- 
some horse despite its game leg had the happy 
air of a schoolboy called up before a large audi- 
ence for an examination in which he feels sure 
he will distinguish himself. He was glancing at 
everyone with a clear, bright expression, as if 
asking them to notice how calmly he sat under 
fire. But despite himself, on his face too that 
same indication of something new and stern 
showed round the mouth. 

"Who's that curtseying there? Cadet Miw6- 
nov! That's not wight! Look at me," cried 
Denfsov who, unable to keep still on one 
spot, kept turning his horse in front of the 
squadron. 

The black, hairy, snub-nosed face of Vdska 
Denhov,and his whole short sturdy figure with 
the sinewy hairy hand and stumpy fingers in 
which he held the hilt of his naked saber, 
looked just as it usually did, especially toward 
evening when he had emptied his second bot- 
tle; he was only redder than usual. With his 
shaggy head thrown back like birds when they 



drink, pressing his spurs mercilessly into the 
sides of his good horse, Bedouin, and sitting as 
though falling backwards in the saddle, he gal- 
loped to the other flank of the squadron and 
shouted in a hoarse voice to the men to look to 
their pistols. He rode up to Kirsten. The staff 
captain on his broad-backed, steady mare came 
at a walk to meet him. His face with its long 
mustache was serious as always, only his eyes 
were brighter than usual. 

"Well, what about it?" said he to Denfsov. 
"It won't come to a fight. You'll see we shall 
retire." 

"The devil only knows what they're about!" 
muttered Denisov. "Ah, Wost6v," he cried no- 
ticing the cadet's bright face, "you've got it at 
last." 

And he smiled approvingly, evidently pleased 
with the cadet. Rost6v felt perfectly happy. 
Just then the commander appeared on the 
bridge. Denisov galloped up to him. 

"Your excellency! Let us attack them! I'll 
dwive them off." 

"Attack indeed!" said the colonel in a bored 
voice, puckering up his face as if driving off a 
troublesome fly. "And why are you stopping 
here? Don't you see the skirmishers are retreat- 
ing? Lead the squadron back." 

The squadron crossed the bridge and drew 
out of range of fire without having lost a single 
man. The second squadron that had been in 
the front line followed them across and the last 
Cossacks quitted the farther side of the river. 

The two Pavlograd squadrons, having crossed 
the bridge, retired up the hill one after the oth- 
er. Their colonel, Karl Bogddnich Schubert, 
came up to Denisov's squadron and rode at a 
footpace not far from Rost6v, without taking 
any notice of him although they were now 
meeting for the first time since their encounter 
concerning Telydnin. Rost6v, feeling that he 
was at the front and in the power of a man to- 
ward whom he now admitted that he had been 
to blame, did not lift his eyes from the colonel's 
athletic back, his nape covered with light hair, 
and his red neck. It seemed to Rost6v that Bog- 
ddnich was only pretending not to notice him, 
and that his whole aim now was to test the 
cadet's courage, so he drew himself up and 
looked around him merrily; then it seemed to 
him that Bogddnich rode so near in order to 
show him his courage. Next he thought that 
his enemy would send the squadron on a des- 
perate attack just to punish him Rost6v. Then 
he imagined how, after the attack, Bogdanich 
would come up to him as he lay wounded and 



BOOK TWO 



79 



would magnanimously extend the hand of 
reconciliation. 

The high-shouldered figure of Zherk6v, fa- 
miliar to the Pavlograds as he had but recently 
left their regiment, rode up to the colonel. Aft- 
er his dismissal from headquartersZherk6vhad 
not remained in the regiment, saying he was 
not such a fool as to slave at the front when he 
could get more rewards by doing nothing on 
the staff, and had succeeded in attaching him- 
self as an orderly officer to Prince Bagrati6n. 
He now came to his former chief with an order 
from the commander of the rearguard. 

"Colonel," he said, addressing Rost6v's en- 
emy with an air of gloomy gravity and glanc- 
ing round at his comrades, "there is an order 
to stop and fire the bridge." 

"An order to who?" asked the colonel mo- 
rosely. 

"I don't myself know 'to who,' " replied the 
cornet in a serious tone, "but the prince told 
me to 'go and tell the colonel that the hussars 
must return quickly and fire the bridge.' " 

Zherkov was followed by an officer of the 
suite who rode up to the colonel of hussars 
with the same order. After him the stout Nesvft- 
ski came galloping up on a Cossack horse that 
could scarcely carry his weight. 

"How's this, Colonel?" he shouted as he ap- 
proached. "I told you to fire the bridge, and 
now someone has gone and blundered; they 
are all beside themselves over there and one 
can't make anything out." 

The colonel deliberately stopped the regi- 
ment and turned to Nesvftski. 

"You spoke to me of inflammable material," 
said he, "but you said nothing about firing it." 

"But, my dear sir," said Nesvftski as he drew 
up, taking off his cap and smoothing his hair 
wet with perspiration with his plump hand, 
"wasn't I tellingyou to fire the bridge, when in- 
flammable material had been put in position?" 

"I am not your 'dear sir,' Mr. Staff Officer, 
and you did not tell me to burn the bridge 1 I 
know the service, and it is my habit orders 
strictly to obey. You said the bridge would be 
burned, but who would it burn, I could not 
know by the holy spirit!" 

"Ah, that's always the wayl" said Nesvitski 
with a wave of the hand. "How did you get 
here?" said he, turning to 'Zherk6v. 

"On the same business. But you are damp! 
Let me wring you out!" 

"You were saying, Mr. Staff Officer . . ." con- 
tinued the colonel in an offended tone. 

"Colonel," interrupted the officer of the 



suite, "you must be quick or the enemy will 
bring up his guns to use grapeshot." 

The colonel looked silently at the officer of 
the suite, at the stout staff officer, and at Zher- 
k6v, and he frowned. 

"I will the bridge fire," he said in a solemn 
tone as if to announce that in spite of all the 
unpleasantness he had to endure he would still 
do the right thing. 

Striking his horse with his long muscular 
legs as if it were to blame for everything, the 
colonel moved forward and ordered the second 
squadron, that in which Rostov was serving un- 
der Denfsov, to return to the bridge. 

"There, it's just as I thought," said Rost6v 
to himself. "He wishes to test me!" His heart 
contracted and the blood rushed to his face. 
"Let him see whether I am a coward!" he 
thought. 

Again on all the bright faces of the squadron 
the serious expression appeared that they had 
worn when under fire. Rost6v watched his en- 
emy, the colonel, closely to find in his face 
confirmation of his own conjecture, but the 
colonel did not once glance at Rost6v, and 
looked as he always did when at the front, sol- 
emn and stern. Then came the word of com- 
mand. 

"Look sharp! Look sharp!" several voices re- 
peated around him. 

Their sabers catching in the bridles and their 
spurs jingling, the hussars hastily dismounted, 
not knowing what they were to do. The men 
were crossing themselves. Rostov no longer 
looked at the colonel, he had no time. He was 
afraid of falling behind the hussars, so much 
afraid that his heart stood still. His hand trem- 
bled as he gave his horse into an orderly's 
charge, and he felt the blood rush to his heart 
with a thud. Denfsov rode past him, leaning 
back and shouting something. Rostov saw noth- 
ing but the hussars running all around him, 
their spurs catching and their sabers clattering. 

"Stretchers!" shouted someone behind him. 

Rost6v did not think what this call for 
stretchers meant; he ran on, trying only to be 
ahead of the others; but just at the bridge, not 
looking at the ground, he came on some sticky, 
trodden mud, stumbled, and fell on his hands. 
The others outstripped him. 

"At boss zides, Captain," he heard the voice 
of the colonel, who, having ridden ahead, had 
pulled up his horse near the bridge, with a tri- 
umphant, cheerful face. 

Rost6v wiping his muddy hands on his 
breeches looked at his enemy and was about to 



8o 



WAR AND PEACE 



run on, thinking that the farther he went to the 
front the better. But Bogdanich, without look- 
ing at or recognizing Rost6v, shouted to him: 

"Who's that running on the middle of the 
bridge? To the right! Come back, Cadetl" he 
cried angrily; and turning to Denisov, who, 
showing off his courage, had ridden on to the 
planks of the bridge: 

"Why run risks, Captain? You should dis- 
mount," he said. 

"Oh, every bullet has its billet," answered 
Vdska Denfsov, turning in his saddle. 

Meanwhile Nesvitski, Zherk6v, and the of- 
ficer of the suite were standing together out of 
range of the shots, watching, now the small 
group of men with yellow shakos, dark-green 
jackets braided with cord, and blue riding 
breeches, who were swarming near the bridge, 
and then at what was approaching in the dis- 
tance from the opposite side the blue uni- 
forms and groups with horses, easily recogniz- 
able as artillery. 

"Will they burn the bridge or not? Who'll 
get there first? Will they get there and fire the 
bridge or will the French get within grapeshot 
range and wipe them out?" These were the 
questions each man of the troops on the high 
ground above the bridge involuntarily asked 
himself with a sinking heart watching the 
bridge and the hussars in the bright evening 
light and the blue tunics advancing from the 
other side with their bayonets and guns. 

"Ugh. The hussars will get it hotl" said Nes- 
vftski; "they are within grapeshot range now." 

"He shouldn't have taken so many men," 
said the officer of the suite. 

"True enough," answered Nesvitski; "two 
smart fellows could have done the job just as 
well." 

"Ah, your excellency," put in Zherk6v, his 
eyes fixed on the hussars, but still with that 
naive air that made i t impossible to know wheth- 
er he was speaking in jest or in earnest. "Ah, 
your excellency 1 How you look at things! Send 
two men? And who then would give us the 
Vladimir medal and ribbon? But now, even if 
they do get peppered, the squadron may be 
recommended for honors and he may get a rib- 
bon. Our Bogddnich knows how things are 
done." 

"There now!" said the officer of the suite, 
"that's grapeshot." 

He pointed to the French guns, the limbers 
of which were being detached and hurriedly 
removed. 



On the French side, amid the groups with 
cannon, a cloud of smoke appeared, then a sec- 
ond and a third almost simultaneously, and at 
the moment when the first report was heard a 
fourth was seen. Then two reports one after 
another, and a third. 

"Oh! Ohl" groaned Nesvitski as if in fierce 
pain, seizing the officer of the suite by the arm. 
"Look! A man has fallen! Fallen, fallen!" 

"Two, I think." 

"If I were Tsar I would never go to war," 
said Nesvitski, turning away. 

The French guns were hastily reloaded. The 
infantry in their blue uniforms advanced to- 
ward the bridge at a run. Smoke appeared 
again but at irregular intervals, and grapeshot 
cracked and rattled onto the bridge. But this 
time Nesvitski could not see what was happen- 
ing there, as a dense cloud of smoke arose from 
it. The hussars had succeeded in setting it on 
fire and the French batteries were now firing at 
them, no longer to hinder them but because 
the guns were trained and there was someone 
to fire at. 

The French had time to fire three rounds of 
grapeshot before the hussars got back to their 
horses. Two were misdirected and the shot 
went too high, but the last round fell in the 
midst of a group of hussars and knocked three 
of them over. 

Rost6v, absorbed by his relations with Bog- 
ddnich, had paused on the bridge not knowing 
what to do. There was no one to hew down (as 
he had always imagined battles to himself), nor 
could he help to fire the bridge because he had 
not brought any burning straw with him like 
the other soldiers. He stood looking about him, 
when suddenly he heard a rattle on the bridge 
as if nuts were being spilt, and the hussar near- 
est to him fell against the rails with a groan. 
Rost6v ran up to him with the others. Again 
someone shouted, "Stretchers!" Four men 
seized the hussar and began lifting him. 

"Oooh! For Christ's sake let me alone! "cried 
the wounded man, but still he was lifted and 
laid on the stretcher. 

Nicholas Rost6v turned away and, as if 
searching for something, gazed into the dis- 
tance, at the waters of the Danube, at the sky, 
and at the sun. How beautiful the sky looked; 
how blue, how call , and how deep! How 
bright and glorious was the setting sun! With 
what soft glitter the waters of the distant Dan- 
ube shone. And fairer stijl were the faraway 
. blue mountains beyond the/iver, the nunnery, 
the mysterious gorges, and \ the pine forests 



BOOK TWO 



81 



veiled in mist to their summits . . . There was 
peace and happiness ... "I should wish for 
nothing else, nothing, if only I were there," 
thought Rost6v. "In myself alone and in that 
sunshine there is so much happiness; but here 
. . . groans, suffering, fear, and this uncertainty 
and hurry . . . There they are shouting again, 
and again are all running back somewhere, and 
I shall run with them, and it, death, is here 
above me and around . . . Another instant and 
I shall never again see the sun, this water, that 
gorgel ..." 

At that instant the sun began to hide behind 
the clouds, and other stretchers came into view 
before Rost6v. And the fear of death and of 
the stretchers, and love of the sun and of life, 
all merged into one feeling of sickening agita- 
tion. 

"O Lord God! Thou who art in that heaven, 
save, forgive, and protect me!" Rost6v whis- 
pered. 

The hussars ran back to the men who held 
their horses; their voices sounded louder and 
calmer, the stretchers disappeared from sight. 

"Well, fwiend? So you've smelt powdah!" 
shouted Vdska Denfsov just above his ear. 

"It's all over; but I am a cowardyes, a cow- 
ard!" thought Rost6v, and sighing deeply he 
took Rook, his horse, which stood resting one 
foot, from the orderly and began to mount. 

"Was that grapeshot?" he asked Denisov. 

"Yes and no mistake!" cried Denisov. "You 
worked likewegular bwicks and it's nasty work! 
An attack's pleasant work! Hacking away at 
the dogs! But this sort of thing is the very devil, 
with them shooting at you like a target." 

And Denfsov rode up to a group that had 
stopped near Rost6v, composed of the colonel, 
Nesvftski, Zherk6v, and the officer from the 
suite. 

"Well, it seems that no one has noticed," 
thought Rost6v. And this was true. No one had 
taken any notice, for everyone knew the sensa- 
tion which the cadet under fire for the first 
time had experienced. 

"Here's something for you to report," said 
Zherk6v. "See if I don't get promoted to a sub- 
lieutenancy." 

"Inform the prince that I the bridge fired!" 
said the colonel triumphantly and gaily. 

"And if he asks about the losses?" 

"A trifle/' said the colonel in his bass voice: 
"two hussars wounded, and one knocked out," 
he added, unable to restrain a happy smile, 
and pronouncing the phrase "knocked out" 
with ringing distinctness. 



CHAPTER IX 

PURSUED by the French army of a hundred 
thousand men under the command of Bona- 
parte, encountering a population that was un- 
friendly to it, losing confidence in its allies, suf- 
fering from shortness of supplies, and compell- 
ed to act under conditions of war unlike any- 
thing that had been foreseen, the Russian army 
of thirty-five thousand men commanded by Ku- 
tuzov was hurriedly retreating along the Dan- 
ube, stopping where overtaken by the enemy 
and fighting rearguard actions only as far as 
necessary to enable it to retreat without losing 
its heavy equipment. There had been actions 
at Lambach, Amstetten, and Melk; but despite 
the courage and endurance acknowledged 
even by the enemy with which the Russians 
fought, the only consequence of these actions 
was a yet more rapid retreat. Austrian troops 
that had escaped capture at Ulm and had joined 
Kutuzov at Braunau now separated from the 
Russian army, and Kutuzov was left with only 
his own weak and exhausted forces. The de- 
fense of Vienna was no longer to be thought 
of. Instead of an offensive, the plan of which, 
carefully prepared in accord with the modern 
science of strategics, had been handed to Ku- 
tuzov when he was in Vienna by the Austrian 
Hofkriegsrath, the sole and almost unattain- 
able aim remaining for him was to effect a 
junction with the forces that were advancing 
from Russia, without losing his army as Mack 
had done at Ulm. 

On the twenty-eighth of October Kutuzov 
with his army crossed to the left bank of the 
Danube and took up a position for the first 
time with the river between himself and the 
main body of the French. On the thirtieth he 
attacked Mortier's division, which was on the 
left bank, and broke it up. In this action for 
the first time trophies were taken: banners, 
cannon, and two enemy generals. For the first 
time, after a fortnight's retreat, the Russian 
troops had halted and after a fight had not on- 
ly held the field but had repulsed the French. 
Though the troops were ill-clad, exhausted, 
and had lost a third of their number in killed, 
wounded, sick, and stragglers; though a num- 
ber of sick and wounded had been abandoned 
on the other side of the Danube with a letter 
in which Kutuzov entrusted them to the hu- 
manity of the enemy; and though the big hos- 
pitals and the houses in Krems converted into 
military hospitals could no longer accommo- 
date all the sick and wounded, yet the stand 
made at Krems and the victory over Mortier 



82 



WAR AND PEACE 



raised the spirits of the army considerably. 
Throughout the whole army and at headquar- 
ters most joyful though erroneous rumors were 
rife of the imaginary approach of columns from 
Russia, of some victory gained by the Austri- 
ans, and of the retreat of the frightened Bona- 
parte. 

Prince Andrew during the battle had been 
in attendance on the Austrian General Schmidt, 
who was killed in the action. His horse had 
been wounded under him and his own arm 
slightly grazed by a bullet. As a mark of the 
commander in chief's special favor he was sent 
with the news of this victory to the Austrian 
court, now no longer at Vienna (which was 
threatened by the French) but at Brunn. De- 
spite his apparently delicate build Prince An- 
drew could endure physical fatigue far better 
than many very muscular men, and on the 
night of the battle, having arrived at Krems ex- 
cited but not weary, with dispatches from Dokh- 
turov to Kutiizov, he was sent immediately 
with a special dispatch to Brunn. To be so sent 
meant not only a reward but an important 
step toward promotion. 

The night was dark but starry, the road 
showed black in the snow that had fallen the 
previous day the day of the battle. Reviewing 
his impressions of the recent battle, picturing 
pleasantly to himself the impression his news 
of a victory would create, or recalling the send- 
off given him by the commander in chief and 
his fellow officers, Prince Andrew was gallop- 
ing along in a post chaise enjoying the feel- 
ings of a man who has at length begun to at- 
tain a long-desired happiness. As soon as he 
closed his eyes his ears seemed filled with the 
rattle of the wheels and the sensation of vic- 
tory. Then he began to imagine that the Rus- 
sians were running away and that he himself 
was killed, but he quickly roused himself with 
a feeling of joy, as if learning afresh that this 
was not so but that on the contrary the French 
had run away. He again recalled all the details 
of the victory and his own calm courage dur- 
ing the battle, and feeling reassured he dozed 
off. . . . The dark starry night was followed by 
a bright cheerful morning. The snow was thaw- 
ing in the sunshine, the horses galloped quick- 
ly, and on bqth sides of the road were forests 
of different kinds, fields, and villages. 

At one of the post stations he overtook a 
convoy of Russian wounded. The Russian of- 
ficer in charge of the transport lolled back in 
the front cart, shouting and scolding a soldier 
with coarse abuse. In each of the long German 



carts six or more pale, dirty, bandaged men 
were being jolted over the stony road. Some of 
them were talking (he heard Russian words), 
others were eating bread; the more severely 
wounded looked silently, with the languid in- 
terest of sick children, at the envoy hurrying 
past them. 

Prince Andrew told his driver to stop, and 
asked a soldier in what action they had been 
wounded. "Day before yesterday, on the Dan- 
ube," answered the soldier. Prince Andrew took 
out his purse and gave the soldier three gold 
pieces. 

"That's for them all," he said to the officer 
who came up. 

"Get well soon, lads!" he continued, turn- 
ing to the soldiers. "There's plenty to do still." 

"What news, sir?" asked the officer, evidently 
anxious to start a conversation. 

"Good newsl ... Go on!" he shouted to the 
driver, and they galloped on. 

It was already quite dark when Prince An- 
drew rattled over the paved streets of Briinn 
and found himself surrounded by high build- 
ings, the lights of shops, houses, and street 
lamps, fine carriages, and all that atmosphere 
of a large and active town which is always so 
attractive to a soldier after camp life. Despite 
his rapid journey and sleepless night, Prince 
Andrew when he drove up to the palace felt 
even more vigorous and alert than he had done 
the day before. Only his eyes gleamed feverish- 
ly and his thoughts followed one another with 
extraordinary clearness and rapidity. He again 
vividly recalled the details of the battle, no 
longer dim, but definite and in the concise form 
in which he imagined himself stating them to 
the Emperor Francis. He vividly imagined the 
casual questions that might be put to him and 
the answers he would give. He expected to be 
at once presented to the Emperor. At the chief 
entrance to the palace, however, an official came 
running out to meet him, and learning that he 
was a special messenger led him to another en- 
trance. 

"To the right from the corridor, Euer Hoch- 
geboren! There you*will find the adjutant on 
duty," said the official. "He will conduct you to 
the Minister of War." 

The adjutant on duty, meeting Prince An- 
drew, asked him to wait, and went in to the 
Minister of War. Five minutes later he returned 
and bowing with particular courtesy ushered 
Prince Andrew before him along a corridor to 
the cabinet where the Minister of War was at 
work. The adjutant by his elaborate courtesy 



BOOK 

appeared to wish to ward off any attempt at 
familiarity on the part o! the Russian messen- 
ger. 

Prince Andrew's joyous feeling was consid- 
erably weakened as he approached the door of 
the minister's room. He felt offended, and with- 
out his noticing it the feeling of offense im- 
mediately turned into one of disdain which 
was quite uncalled for. His fertile mind in- 
stantly suggested to him a point of view which 
gave him a right to despise the adjutant and 
the minister. "Away from the smell of powder, 
they probably think it easy to gain victories!" 
he thought. His eyes narrowed disdainfully, he 
entered the room of the Minister of War with 
peculiarly deliberate steps. This feeling of dis- 
dain was heightened when he saw the minister 
seated at a large table reading some papers and 
making pencil notes on them, and for the first 
two or three minutes taking no notice of his 
arrival. A wax candle stood at each side of the 
minister's bent bald head with its gray temples. 
He went on reading to the end, without rais- 
ing his eyes at the opening of the door and the 
sound of footsteps. 

"Take this and deliver it," said he to his ad- 
jutant, handing him the papers and still tak- 
ing no notice of the special messenger. 

Prince Andrew felt that either the actions of 
Kutuzov's army interested the Minister of War 
less than any of the other matters he was con- 
cerned with, or he wanted to give the Russian 
special messenger that impression. "But that is 
a matter of perfect indifference to me," he 
thought. The minister drew the remaining 
papers together, arranged them evenly, and 
then raised his head. He had an intellectual 
and distinctive head, but the instant he turned 
to Prince Andrew the firm, intelligent expres- 
sion on his face changed in a way evidently de- 
liberate and habitual to him. His face took on 
the stupid artificial smile (which does not even 
attempt to hide its artificiality) of a man who is 
continually receiving many petitioners one aft- 
er another. 

"From General Field Marshal Kutiizov?" he 
asked. "I hope it is good ftews? There has been 
an encounter with Mortier? A victory? It was 
high timel" 

He took the dispatch which was addressed to 
him and began to read it with a mournful ex- 
pression. 

"Oh, my God! My God! Schmidt!" he ex- 
claimed in German. "What a calamity! What 
a calamity!" 

Having glanced through the dispatch he laid 



TWO 83 

it on the table and looked at Prince Andrew, 
evidently considering something. 

"Ah, what a calamity! You say the affair was 
decisive? But Mortier is not captured." Again 
he pondered. "I am very glad you have brought 
good news, though Schmidt's death is a heavy 
price to pay for the victory. His Majesty will 
no doubt wish to see you, but not today. I thank 
you! You must have a rest. Be at the levee to- 
morrow after the parade. However, I will let 
you know." 

The stupid smile, which had left his face 
while he was speaking, reappeared. 

"Au revoir! Thank you very much. His Maj- 
esty will probably desire to see you," he added, 
bowing his head. 

When Prince Andrew left the palace-he felt 
that all the interest and happiness the victory 
had afforded him had been now left in the in- 
different hands of the Minister of War and the 
polite adjutant. The whole tenor of his thoughts 
instantaneously changed; the battle seemed the 
memory of a remote event long past. 

CHAPTER X 

PRINCE ANDREW stayed at Briinn with Bilibin, 
a Russian acquaintance of his in the diplomat- 
ic service. 

"Ah, my dear prince! I could not haveamore 
welcome visitor," said Bilibin as he came out 
to meet Prince Andrew. "Franz, put the prince's 
things in my bedroom," said he to the servant 
who was ushering Bolk6nski in. "So you're a 
messenger of victory, eh? Splendid! And I am 
sitting here ill, as you see." 

After washing and dressing, Prince Andrew 
came into the diplomat's luxurious study and 
sat down to the dinner prepared for him. Bili- 
bin settled down comfortably beside the fire. 

After his journey and the campaign during 
which he had been deprived of all the comforts 
of cleanliness and all the refinements of life, 
Prince Andrew felt a pleasant sense of repose 
among luxurious surroundings such as he had 
been accustomed to from childhood. Besides 
it was pleasant, after his reception by the Aus- 
trians, to speak if not in Russian (for they 
were speaking French) at least with a Russian 
who would, he supposed, share the general Rus- 
sian antipathy to the Austrians which was then 
particularly strong. 

Bilibin was a man of thirty-five, a bachelor, 
and of the same circle as Prince Andrew. They 
had known each other previously in Peters- 
burg, but had become more intimate when 
Prince Andrew was in Vienna with Kutuzov. 



84 

Just as Prince Andrew was a young man who 
gave promise of rising high in the military pro- 
fession, so to an even greater extent Bilibin 
gave promise of rising in his diplomatic career. 
He was still a young man but no longer a young 
diplomat, as he had entered the service at the 
age of sixteen, had been in Paris and Copen- 
hagen, and now held a rather important post 
in Vienna. Both the foreign minister and our 
ambassador in Vienna knew him and valued 
him. He was not one of those many diplomats 
who are esteemed because they have certain 
negative qualities, avoid doing certain things, 
and speafc|*French. He was one of those, who, 
liking work, knew how to do it, and despite his 
indolence would sometimes spend a whole 
qight at his writing table. He worked equally 
well whatever the import of his work. It was 
not the question "What for?" but the question 
"How?" that interested him. What the diplo- 
matic matter might be he did not care, but it 
gave him great pleasure to prepare a circular, 
memorandum, or report, skillfully, pointedly, 
and elegantly. Bilfbin's services were valued 
not only for what he wrote, but also for his 
skill in dealing and conversing with those in 
the highest spheres. 

Bilfbin liked conversation as he liked work, 
only when it could be made elegantly witty. In 
society he always awaited an opportunity to 
say something striking and took part in a con- 
versation only when that was possible. His con- 
versation was always sprinkled with wittily orig- 
inal, finished phrases of general interest. These 
sayings were prepared in the inner laboratory 
of his mind in a portable form as if intention- 
ally, so that insignificant society people might 
carry them from drawing room to drawing 
room. And, in fact, Bilfbin's witticisms were 
hawked about in the Viennese drawing rooms 
and often had an influence on matters consid- 
ered important. 

His thin, worn, sallow face was covered with 
deep wrinkles, which always looked as clean and 
well washed as the tips of one's fingers after a 
Russian bath. The movement of these wrinkles 
formed the principal play of expression on his 
face. Now his forehead would pucker into deep 
folds and his eyebrows were lifted, then his eye- 
brows would descend and deep wrinkles would 
crease his cheeks. His small, deep-set eyes al- 
ways twinkled and looked out straight. 

"Well, now tell me about your 'exploits," 
said he. 

Bolk6nski, very modestly without once men- 
tioning himself, described the engagement and 



WAR AND PEACE 

his reception by the Minister of War. 

"They received me and my news as one re- 
ceives a dog in a game of skittles," said he in 
conclusion. 

Bilibin smiled and the wrinkles on his face 
disappeared. 

"Cependant, mon cher" he remarked, exam- 
ining his nails from a distance and puckering 
the skin above his left eye, "malgre 1 la haute es- 
thne que je professe pour the Orthodox Rus- 
sian army, j'avoue que votre victoire n'est pas 
des plus victorieuses." a 

He went on talking in this way in French, 
uttering only those words in Russian on which 
he wished to put a contemptuous emphasis. 

"Come now! You with all your forces fall on 
the unfortunate Mortier and his one division, 
and even then Mortier slips through your fin- 
gers 1 Where's the victory?" 

"But seriously," said Prince Andrew, "we 
can at any rate say without boasting that it was 
a little better than at Ulm . . ." 

"Why didn't you capture one, just one, mar- 
shal for us?" 

"Because not everything happens as one ex- 
pects or with the smoothness of a parade. We 
had expected, as I told you, to get at their rear 
by seven in the morning but had not reached 
it by five in the afternoon." 

"And why didn't you do it at seven in the 
morning? You ought to have been there at sev- 
en in the morning," returned Bilfbin with a 
smile. "You ought to have been there at seven 
in the morning." 

"Why did you not succeed in impressing on 
Bonaparte by diplomatic methods that he had 
better leave Genoa alone?" retorted Prince 
Andrew in the same tone. 

"I know, "interrupted Bilfbin, "you're think- 
ing it's very easy to take marshals, sitting on a 
sofa by the fire! That is true, but still why 
didn't you capture him? So don't be surprised 
if not only the Minister of War but also his 
Most August Majesty the Emperor and King 
Francis is not much delighted by your victory. 
Even I, a poor secretary of the Russian Em- 
bassy, do not feel any need in token of my 
joy to give my Franz a thaler, or let him go 
with his Liebchen to the Prater. . . . True, 
we have no Prater here . . ." 

He looked straight at Prince Andrew and 
suddenly unwrinkled his forehead. 

"It is now my turn to ask you 'why?' mon 

1 "But, my dear fellow, with all my respect for 
the Orthodox Russian army, I must say that your 
victory was not particularly victorious." 



BOOK 

cher" said Bolk6nski. "I confess I do not un- 
derstand: perhaps there are diplomatic subtle- 
ties here beyond my feeble intelligence, but I 
can't make it out. Mack loses a whole army, 
the Archduke Ferdinand and the Archduke 
Karl give no signs of life and make blunder after 
blunder. Kutuzov alone at last gains a real vic- 
tory, destroying the spell of the invincibility of 
the French, and the Minister of War does not 
even care to hear the details." 

"That's just it, my dear fellow. You see it's 
hurrah for the Tsar, for Russia, for the Ortho- 
dox Greek faith! All that is beautiful, but what 
do we, I mean the Austrian court, care for your 
victories? Bring us nice news of a victory by the 
Archduke Karl or Ferdinand (one archduke's 
as good as another, as you know) and even if it 
is only over a fire brigade of Bonaparte's, that 
will be another story and we'll fire off some 
cannon! But this sort of thing seems done on 
purpose to vex us. The Archduke Karl does 
nothing, the Archduke Ferdinand disgraces 
himself. You abandon Vienna, give up its de- 
fenseas much as to say: 'Heaven is with us, 
but heaven help you and your capital!' The 
one general whom we all loved, Schmidt, you 
expose to a bullet, and then you congratulate 
us on the victory! Admit that more irritating 
news than yours could not have been conceived. 
It's as if it had been done on purpose, on pur- 
pose. Besides, suppose you did gain a brilliant 
victory, if even the Archduke Karl gained a 
victory, what effect would that have on the 
general course of events? It's too late now when 
Vienna is occupied by the French army!" 

"What? Occupied? Vienna occupied?" 

"Not only occupied, but Bonaparte is at 
Schonbrunn, and the count, our dear Count 
Vrbna, goes to him for orders." 

After the fatigues and impressions of the 
journey, his reception, and especially after hav- 
ing dined, Bolk6nski felt that he could not take 
in the full significance of the words he heard. 

"Count Lichtenfels was here this morning," 
Bilibin continued, "and showed me a letter in 
which the parade of the French in Vienna was 
fully described: Prince Murat et tout le trem- 
blement . . . You see that your victory is not a 
matter for great rejoicing and that you can't 
be received as a savior." 

"Really I don't care about that, I don't care 
at all," said Prince Andrew, beginning to un- 
derstand that his news of the battle before 
Krems was really of small importance in view 
of such events as the fall of Austria's capital. 
"How is it Vienna was taken? What of the 



TWO 85 

bridge and its celebrated bridgehead and Prince 
Auersperg? We heard reports that Prince Au- 
ersperg was defending Vienna?" he said. 

"Prince Auersperg is on this, on our side of 
the river, and is defending us doing it very 
badly, I think, but still he is defending us. But 
Vienna is on the other side. No, the bridge has 
not yet been taken and I hope it will not be, 
for it is mined and orders have been given to 
blow it up. Otherwise we should long ago have 
been in the mountains of Bohemia, and you 
and your army would have spent a bad quarter 
of an hour between two fires." 

"But still this does not mean that the cam- 
paign is over," said Prince Andrew. 

"Well, I think it is. The bigwigs here think 
so too, but they daren't say so. It will be as I 
said at the beginning of the campaign, it won't 
be your skirmishing at Durrenstein, or gun- 
powder at all, that will decide the matter, but 
those who devised it," said Bilfbin quoting one 
of his own mots, releasing the wrinkles on his 
forehead, and pausing. "The only question is 
what will come of the meeting between the Em- 
peror Alexander and the King of Prussia in 
Berlin? If Prussia joins the Allies, Austria's 
hand will be forced and there will be war. If 
not it is merely a question of settling where the 
preliminaries of the new Campo Formio are to 
be drawn up." 

"What an extraordinary genius!" Prince An- 
drew suddenly exclaimed, clenching his small 
hand and striking the table with it, "and what 
luck the man has!" 

"Buonaparte?" said Bilfbin inquiringly, 
puckering up his forehead to indicate that he 
was about to say something witty. "Buona- 
parte?" he repeated, accentuating the u: "I 
think, however, now that he lays down laws for 
Austria at Schonbrunn, il faut lui faire grace 
de I'u! * I shall certainly adopt an innovation 
and call him simply Bonapartel" 

"But joking apart," said Prince Andrew, "do 
you really think the campaign is over?" 

"This is what I think. Austria has been made 
a fool of, and she is not used to it. She will retal- 
iate. And she has been fooled in the first place 
because her provinces have been pillaged 
they say the Holy Russian army loots terribly 
her army is destroyed, her capital taken, and 
all this for the beaux yeux * of His Sardinian 
Majesty. And therefore this is between our- 
selves I instinctively feel that we are being de- 
ceived, my instinct tells me of negotiations with 

1 "We must let him off the u/" 
8 Fine eyes. 



86 



WAR AND PEACE 



France and projects for peace, a secret peace 
concluded separately." 

"Impossible!" cried Prince Andrew. "That 
would be too base." 

"If we live we shall see," replied Bilibin, his 
face again becoming smooth as a sign that the 
conversation was at an end. 

When Prince Andrew reached the room pre- 
pared for him and lay down in a clean shirt on 
the feather bed with its warmed and fragrant 
pillows, he felt that the battle of which he had 
brought tidings was far, far away from him. 
The alliance with Prussia, Austria's treachery, 
Bonaparte's new triumph, tomorrow's levee 
and parade, and the audience with the Emper- 
or Francis occupied his thoughts. 

He closed his eyes, and immediately a sound 
of cannonading, of musketry and the rattling 
of carriage wheels seemed to fill his ears, and 
now again drawn out in a thin line the mus- 
keteers were descending the hill, the French 
were firing, and he felt his heart palpitating as 
he rode forward beside Schmidt with the bul- 
lets merrily whistling all around, and he ex- 
perienced tenfold the joy of living, as he had 
not done since childhood. 

He woke up ... 

"Yes, that all happened!" he said, and, smil- 
ing happily to himself like a child, he fell into 
a deep, youthful slumber. 

CHAPTER XI 

NEXT DAY he woke late. Recalling his recent 
impressions, the first thought that came into 
his mind was that today he had to be presented 
to the Emperor Francis; he remembered the 
Minister of War, the polite Austrian adjutant, 
Bilibin, and last night's conversation. Having 
dressed for his attendance at court in full pa- 
rade uniform, which he had not worn for a 
long time, he went into Bilibin's study fresh, 
animated, and handsome, with his hand band- 
aged. In the study were four gentlemen of the 
diplomatic corps. With Prince Hippolyte Ku- 
ragin, who was a secretary to the embassy, Bol- 
k6nski was already acquainted. Bilibin intro- 
duced him to the others. 

The gentlemen assembled at Bilfbin's were 
young, wealthy, gay society men, who here, as 
in Vienna, formed a special set which Bilibin, 
their leader, called les ndtres* This set, consist- 
ing almost exclusively of diplomats, evidently 
had its own interests which had nothing to do 
with war or politics but related to high society, 
to certain women, and to the official side of the 

1 Ours. 



service. These gentlemen received Prince An- 
drew as one of themselves, an honor they did 
not extend to many. From politeness and to 
start conversation, they asked him a few ques- 
tions about the army and the battle, and then 
the talk went off into merry jests and gossip. 

"But the best of it was," said one, telling of 
the misfortune of a fellow diplomat, "that the 
Chancellor told him flatly that his appoint- 
ment to London was a promotion and that he 
was so to regard it. Can you fancy the figure he 
cut? . . ." 

"But the worst of it, gentlemen I am giving 
Kunigin away to you is that that man suffers, 
and this Don Juan, wicked fellow, is taking ad- 
vantage of it!" 

Prince Hippolyte was lolling in a lounge 
chair with his legs over its arm. He began to 
laugh. 

"Tell me about that!" he said. 

"Oh, you Don Juan! You serpent!" cried sev- 
eral voices. 

"You, Bolk6nski, don't know," said Bilibin 
turning to Prince Andrew, "that all the atroci- 
ties of the French army (I nearly said of the 
Russian army) are nothing compared to what 
this man has been doing among the women!" 

"La femme est la compagne de I'homme" 2 
announced Prince Hippolyte, and began look- 
ing through a lorgnette at his elevated legs. 

Bilibin and the rest of "ours" burst out laugh- 
ing in Hippolyte's face, and Prince Andrew 
saw that Hippolyte, of whomhe had to admit 
he had almost been jealous on his wife's ac- 
count, was the butt of this set. 

"Oh, I must give you a treat," Bilfbin whis- 
pered to Bolk6nski. "Kuragin is exquisite when 
he discusses politics you should see his grav- 
ity!" 

He sat down beside Hippolyte and wrink- 
ling his forehead began talking to him about 
politics. Prince Andrew and the others gath- 
ered round these two. 

"The Berlin cabinet cannot express a feel- 
ing of alliance," began Hippolyte gazing round 
with importance at the others, "without ex- 
pressing ... as in its last note . . . you under- 
stand . . . Besides, unless His Majesty the Em- 
peror derogates from the principle of our 
alliance . . . 

"Wait, I have not finished . . ." he said to 
Prince Andrew, seizing him by the arm, "I be- 
lieve that intervention will be stronger than 
nonintervention. And . . ."he paused. "Final- 
ly one cannot impute the nonreceipt of ourdis- 

2 "Woman is man's companion." 



BOOK TWO 



87 



patch of November 18. That is how it will 
end." And he released Bolk6nski's arm to in- 
dicate that he had now quite finished. 

"Demosthenes, I know thee by the pebble 
thou secretest in thy golden mouth 1" said Bilf- 
bin, and the mop of hair on his head moved 
with satisfaction. 

Everybody laughed, and Hippolyte louder 
than anyone. He was evidently distressed, and 
breathed painfully, but could not restrain the 
wild laughter that convulsed his usually impas- 
sive features. 

"Well now, gentlemen," said Bilibin, "Bol- 
k6nski is my guest in this house and in Briinn 
itself. I want to entertain him as far as I can, 
with all the pleasures of life here. If we were in 
Vienna it would be easy, but here, in this 
wretched Moravian hole, it is more difficult, 
and I beg you all to help me. Briinn's attrac- 
tions must be shown him. You can undertake 
the theater, I society, and you, Hippolyte, of 
course the women." 

"We must let him see Amelie, she's exqui- 
sitel" said one of "ours," kissing his finger tips. 

"In general we must turn this bloodthirsty 
soldier to more humane interests," said Bilibin. 

"I shall scarcely be able to avail myself of 
your hospitality, gentlemen, it is already time 
for me to go," replied Prince Andrew looking 
at his watch. 

"Where to?" 

"To the Emperor." 

"Oh! Ohl Oh!" 

"Well, au revoir, Bolk6nskil Au revoir, 
Prince! Come back early to dinner," cried sev- 
eral voices. "We'll take you in hand." 

"When speaking to the Emperor, try as far 
as you can to praise the way that provisions are 
supplied and the routes indicated," said Bilibin, 
accompanying him to the hall. 

"I should like to speak well of them, but as 
far as I know the facts, I can't," replied Bolk6n- 
ski, smiling. 

"Well, talk as much as you can, anyway. He 
has a passion for giving audiences, but he does 
not like talking himself and can't do it, as you 
will see/' 

CHAPTER XII 

AT THE LEVEE Prince Andrew stood among the 
Austrian officers as he had been told to, and the 
Emperor Francis merely looked fixedly into his 
face and just nodded to him with his long head. 
But after it was over, the adjutant he had seen 
the previous day ceremoniously informed Bol- 
k6nski that the Emperor desired to give him 



an audience. The Emperor Francis received 
him standing in the middle of the room. Be- 
fore the conversation began Prince Andrew 
was struck by the fact that the Emperor seemed 
confused and blushed as if not knowing what 
to say. 

"Tell me, when did the battle begin?" he 
asked hurriedly. 

Prince Andrew replied. Then followed oth- 
er questions just as simple: "Was Kutuzov well? 
When had he left Krems?" and so on. The Em- 
peror spoke as if his sole aim were to put a giv- 
en number of questions the answers to these 
questions, as was only too evident, did not in- 
terest him. 

"At what o'clock did the battle begin?" asked 
the Emperor. 

"I cannot inform Your Majesty at what 
o'clock the battle began at the front, but at 
Durrenstein, where I was, our attack began aft- 
er five in the afternoon," replied Bolk6nski 
growing more animated and expecting that he 
would have a chance to give a reliable account, 
which he had ready in his mind, of all he knew 
and had seen. But the Emperor smiled and in- 
terrupted him. 

"How many miles?" 

"From where to where, Your Majesty?" 

"From Durrenstein to Krems." 

"Three and a half miles, Your Majesty." 

"The French have abandoned the left bank?" 

"According to the scouts the last of them 
crossed on rafts during the night." 

"Is there sufficient forage in Krems?" 

"Forage has not been supplied to the ex- 
tent . . ." 

The Emperor interrupted him. 

"At what o'clock was General Schmidt 
killed?" 

"At seven o'clock, I believe." 

"At seven o'clock? It's very sad, very sad!" 

The Emperor thanked Prince Andrew and 
bowed. Prince Andrew withdrew and was im- 
mediately surrounded by courtiers on all sides. 
Everywhere he saw friendly looks and heard 
friendly words. Yesterday's adjutant re- 
proached him for not having stayed at the pal- 
ace, and offered him his own house. The Min- 
ister of War came up and congratulated him 
on the Maria Theresa Orderof the third grade, 
which the Emperor was conferring on him. The 
Empress' chamberlain invited him to see Her 
Majesty. The archduchess also wished to see 
him. He did not know whom to answer, and for 
a few seconds collected his thoughts. Then the 
Russian ambassador took him by the shoulder, 



88 



WAR AND PEACE 



led him to the window, and began to talk to 
him. 

Contrary to Bilibin's forecast the news he 
had brought was joyfully received. A thanks- 
giving service was arranged, Kutiizov was a- 
warded the Grand Cross of Maria Theresa, and 
the whole army received rewards. Bolk6nski 
was invited everywhere, and had to spend the 
whole morning calling on the principal Austri- 
an dignitaries. Between four and five in the aft- 
ernoon, having made all his calls, he was re- 
turning to Bilibin's house thinking out a let- 
ter to his father about the battle and his visit 
to Brunn. At the door he found a vehicle half 
full of luggage. Franz, Bilibin's man, was drag- 
ging a portmanteau with some difficulty out of 
the front door. 

Before returning to Bilibin's Prince Andrew 
had gone to a bookshop to provide himself with 
some books for the campaign, and had spent 
some time in the shop. 

"What is it?" he asked. 

"Oh, your excellency 1" said Franz, with diffi- 
culty rolling the portmanteau into the vehicle, 
"we are to move on still farther. The scoundrel 
is again at our heels!" 

"Eh? What?" asked Prince Andrew. 

Bilibin came out to meet him. His usually 
calm face showed excitement. 

"There now! Confess that this is delightful," 
said he. "This affair of the Thabor Bridge, at 
Vienna. . . . They have crossed without striking 
a blow!" 

Prince Andrew could not understand. 

"But where do you come from not to know 
what every coachman in the town knows?" 

"I come from the archduchess'. I heard noth- 
ing there." 

"And you didn't see that everybody is pack- 
ing up?" 

"I did not . . . What is it all about?" inquired 
Prince Andrew impatiently. 

"What's it all about? Why, the French have 
crossed the bridge that Auersperg was defend- 
ing, and the bridge was not blown up: so Murat 
is now rushing along the road to Brunn and 
will be here in a day or two." 

"What? Here? But why did they not blow up 
the bridge, if it was mined?" 

"That is what I ask you. No one, not even 
Bonaparte, knows why." 

Bolk6nski shrugged his shoulders. 

"But if the bridge is crossed it means that the 
army too is lost? It will be cut off," said he. 

"That's just it," answered Bilibin. "Listen! 
The French entered Vienna as I told you. Very 



well. Next day, which was yesterday, those gen- 
tlemen, messieurs les marechaux* Murat, Lan- 
nes, and Belliard, mount and ride to the bridge. 
(Observe that all three are Gascons.) 'Gentle- 
men,' says one of them, 'you know the Thabor 
Bridge is mined and doubly mined and that 
there are menacing fortifications at its head and 
an army of fifteen thousand men has been or- 
dered to blow up the bridge and not let us 
cross? But it will please our sovereign the Em- 
peror Napoleon if we take this bridge, so let 
us three go and take it!' 'Yes, let's!' say the oth- 
ers. And off they go and take the bridge, cross 
it, and now with their whole army are on this 
side of the Danube, marching on us, you, and 
your lines of communication." 

"Stop jesting," said Prince Andrew sadly and 
seriously. This news grieved him and yet he was 
pleased. 

As soon as he learned that the Russian army 
was in such a hopeless situation it occurred to 
him that it was he who was destined to lead it 
out of this position; that here was the Toulon 
that would lift him from the ranks of obscure 
officers and offer him the first step to fame! Lis- 
tening to Bilfbin he was already imagining how 
on reaching the army he would give an opin- 
ion at the war council which would be the only 
one that could save the army, and how he alone 
would be entrusted with the executing of the 
plan. 

"Stop this jesting," he said. 

"I am not jesting," Bilibin went on. "Noth- 
ing is truer or sadder. These gentlemen ride 
onto the bridge alone and wave white hand- 
kerchiefs; they assure the officer on duty that 
they, the marshals, are on their way to negoti- 
ate with Prince Auersperg. He lets them enter 
the tSte-de-pont* They spin him a thousand 
gasconades, saying that the war is over, that the 
Emperor Francis is arranging a meeting with 
Bonaparte, that they desire to see Prince Auers- 
perg, and so on. The officer sends for Auers- 
perg; these gentlemen embrace the officers, 
crack jokes, sit on the cannon, and meanwhile 
a French battalion gets to the bridge un- 
observed, flings the bags of incendiary material 
into the water, and approaches the tSte-de- 
pont. At length appears the lieutenant gener- 
al, our dear Prince Auersperg von Mautern 
himself. 'Dearest foe! Flower of the Austrian 
army, hero of the Turkish wars! Hostilities are 
ended, we can shake one another's hand. . . . 
The Emperor Napoleon burns with impatience 

1 The marshals. 
9 Bridgehead. 



BOOK TWO 



to make Prince Auersperg's acquaintance/ In a 
word, those gentlemen, Gascons indeed, so be- 
wildered him with fine words, and he is so flat- 
tered by his rapidly established intimacy with 
the French marshals, and so dazzled by the sight 
of Murat's mantle and ostrich plumes, qu'il n'y 
voit quedu feu,et oubliecelui qu'il devait faire 
faire sur Vennemi!" * In spite of the animation 
of his speech, Bilibin did not forget to pause 
after this mot to give time for its due apprecia- 
tion. "The French battalion rushes to the 
bridgehead, spikes the guns, and the bridge is 
taken 1 But what is best of all," he went on, his 
excitement subsiding under the delightful in- 
terest of his own story, "is that the sergeant in 
charge of the cannon which was to give the sig- 
nal to fire the mines and blow up the bridge, this 
sergeant, seeing that the French troops were 
running onto the bridge, was about to fire, but 
Lannes stayed his hand. The sergeant, who was 
evidently wiser than his general, goes up to 
Auersperg and says: 'Prince, you are being de- 
ceived, here are the French!' Murat, seeing that 
all is lost if the sergeant is allowed to speak, 
turns to Auersperg with feigned astonishment 
(he is a true Gascon) and says: 'I don't recog- 
nize the world-famous Austrian discipline, if 
you allow a subordinate to address you like 
that I' It was a stroke of genius. Prince Auers- 
perg feels his dignity at stake and orders the 
sergeant to be arrested. Come, you must own 
that this affair of the Thabor Bridge is delight- 
ful! It is not exactly stupidity, nor rascality " 

"It may be treachery," said Prince Andrew, 
vividly imagining the gray overcoats, wounds, 
the smoke of gunpowder, the sounds of firing, 
and the glory that awaited him. 

"Not that either. That puts the court in too 
bad a light," replied Bilibin. "It's not treachery 
nor rascality nor stupidity: it is just as at Ulm 
... it is .. ."he seemed to be trying to find the 
right expression. "C'est . . . c'est du Mack. Nous 
sommes mackJs [It is ... it is a bit of Mack. We 
are Macked]" he concluded, feeling that he 
had produced a good epigram, a fresh one that 
would be repeated. His hitherto puckered 
brow became smooth as a sign of pleasure, and 
with a slight smile he began to examine his 
nails. 

"Where are you off to?" he said suddenly to 
Prince Andrew who had risen and was going 
toward his room. 

"I am going away." 

"Where to?" 

1 That their fire gets into his eyes and he forgets 
that he ought to be firing at the enemy. 



"To the army." 

"But you meant to stay another two days?" 

"But now I am off at once." 

And Prince Andrew after giving directions 
about his departure went to his room. 

"Do you know, mon cher" said Bilfbin fol- 
lowing him, "1 have been thinking about you. 
Why are you going?" 

And in proof of the conclusiveness of his 
opinion all the wrinkles vanished from his face. 

Prince Andrew looked inquiringly at him 
and gave no reply. 

"Why are you going? I know you think it 
your duty to gallop back to the army now that 
it is in danger. I understand that. Mon cher, it 
is heroism!" 

"Not at all," said Prince Andrew. 

"But as you are a philosopher, be a consist- 
ent one, look at the other side of the question 
and you will see that your duty, on the con- 
trary, is to take care of yourself. Leave it to 
those who are no longer fit for anything else. 
. . . You have not been ordered to return and 
have not been dismissed from here; therefore, 
you can stay and go with us wherever our ill- 
luck takes us. They say we are going to Olmiitz, 
and Olmiitz is a very decent town. You and I 
will travel comfortably in my caliche." 

"Do stop joking, Bilibin," cried Bolk6nski. 

"I am speaking sincerely as a friend! Consid- 
er! Where and why are you going, when you 
might remain here? You are faced by one of 
two things," and the skin over his left temple 
puckered, "either you will not reach your reg- 
iment before peace is concluded, or you will 
share defeat and disgrace with Kutuzov's whole 
army." 

And Bilfbin unwrinkled his temple, feeling 
that the dilemma was insoluble. 

"I cannot argue about it," replied Prince 
Andrew coldly, but he thought: "I am going to 
save the army." 

"My dear fellow, you are a hero!" said Bili- 
bin. 

CHAPTER XIII 

THAT SAME NIGHT, having taken leave of the 
Minister of War, Bolkonski set off to rejoin the 
army, not knowing where he would find it and 
fearing to be-'captured by the French on the 
way to Krems. 

In Briinn everybody attached to the court 
was packing up, and the heavy baggage was al- 
ready being dispatched to Olmutz. Near Het- 
zelsdorf Prince Andrew struck the highroad 
along which the Russian army was moving 



WAR AND PEACE 



with great haste and in the greatest disorder. 
The road was so obstructed with carts that it 
was impossible to get by in a carriage. Prince 
Andrew took a horse and a Cossack from a Cos- 
sack commander, and hungry and weary, mak- 
ing his way past the baggage wagons, rode in 
search of the commander in chief and of hisown 
luggage. Very sinister reports of the position of 
the army reached him as he went along, and 
the appearance of the troops in their disorder- 
ly flight confirmed these rumors. 

"Cette armJe russe que I' or de I'Angleterre 
a transport^ des extrJmites de Vunivers, nous 
allons lui faire eprouver le meme sort(le sort 
de I'armee d'Ulm)."* He remembered these 
words in Bonaparte's address to his army at the 
beginning of the campaign, and they awoke in 
him astonishment at the genius of his hero, a 
feeling of wounded pride, and a hope of glory. 
"And should there be nothing left but to die?" 
he thought. "Well, if need be, I shall do it no 
worse than others." 

He looked with disdain at the endless con- 
fused mass of detachments, carts, guns, artillery, 
and again baggage wagons and vehicles of all 
kinds overtaking one another and blocking 
the muddy road, three and sometimes four 
abreast. From all sides, behind and before, as 
far as ear could reach, there were the rattle of 
wheels, the creaking of carts and gun carriages, 
the tramp of horses, the crack of whips, shouts, 
the urging of horses, and the swearing of sol- 
diers, orderlies, and officers. All along the sides 
of the road fallen horses were to be seen, some 
flayed, some not, and broken-down carts be- 
sidewhich solitary soldiers sat waiting forsome- 
thing, and again soldiers straggling from their 
companies, crowds of whom set off to the neigh- 
boring villages, or returned from them drag- 
ging sheep, fowls, hay, and bulging sacks. At 
each ascent or descent of the road the crowds 
were yet denser and the din of shouting more 
incessant. Soldiers floundering knee-deep in 
mud pushed the guns and wagons themselves. 
Whips cracked, hoofs slipped, traces broke, and 
lungs were strained with shouting. The offi- 
cers directing the march rode backward and 
forward between the carts. Their voices were 
but feebly heard amid the uproar and one saw 
by their faces that they despaired of the possi- 
bility of checking this disorder. 

"Here is our dear Orthodox Russian army," 

14i That Russian army which has been brought 
from the ends of the earth by English gold, we 
shall cause to share the same fate (the fate of the 
army at Ulm)." 



thought Bolk6nski, recalling Bilibin's words. 

Wishing to find outwhere the commanderin 
chief was, he rode up to a convoy. Directly op- 
posite to him came a strange one-horse vehicle, 
evidently rigged up by soldiers out of any 
available materials and looking like some- 
thing between a cart, a cabriolet, and a cateche. 
A soldier was driving, and a woman enveloped 
in shawls sat behind the apron under the leath- 
er hood of the vehicle. Prince Andrew rode up 
and was just putting his question to a soldier 
when his attention was diverted by the desper- 
ate shrieks of the woman in the vehicle. An of- 
ficer in charge of transport was beating the 
soldier who was driving the woman's vehicle 
for trying to get ahead of others, and the strokes 
of his whip fell on the apron of the equipage. 
The woman screamed piercingly. Seeing Prince 
Andrew she leaned out from behind the apron 
and, waving her thin arms from under the wool- 
en shawl, cried: 

"Mr. Aide-de-camp! Mr. Aide-de-camp! . . . 
For heaven's sake . . . Protect me! What will be- 
come of us? I am the wife of the doctor of the 

Seventh Chasseurs They won't let us pass, 

we are left behind and have lost our people . . ." 

"I'll flatten you into a pancake!" shouted the 
angry officer to the soldier. "Turn back with 
your slut I" 

"Mr. Aide-de-camp! Help me! . . . What does 
it all mean?" screamed the doctor's wife. 

"Kindly let this cart pass. Don't you see it's 
a woman?" said Prince Andrew ridingup to the 
officer. 

The officer glanced at him, and without re- 
plying turned again to the soldier. "I'll teach 
you to push on! , . . Back!" 

"Let them pass, I tell youl" repeated Prince 
Andrew, compressing his lips. 

"And who are you?" cried the officer, turning 
on him with tipsy rage, "who are you? Are you 
in command here? Eh? I am commander here, 
not you! Go back or I'll flatten you into a pan- 
cake," repeated he. This expression evidently 
pleased him. 

"That was a nice snub for the little aide-de- 
camp," came a voice from behind. 

Prince Andrew saw that the officer was in 
that state of senseless, tipsy rage when a man 
does not know what he is saying. He saw that 
his championship of the doctor's wife in her 
queer trap might expose him to what he dread- 
ed more than anything in the world to ridi- 
cule; but his instinct urged him on. Before the 
officer finished his sentence Prince Andrew, his 
face distorted with fury, rode up to him and 



BOOK 

raised his riding whip. 

"Kind . . . ly let them pass!" 

The officer flourished his arm and hastily 
rode away. 

"It's all the fault of these fellows on the staff 
that there's this disorder," he muttered. "Do as 
you like." 

Prince Andrew without lifting his eyes rode 
hastily away from the doctor's wife, who was 
calling him her deliverer, and recalling with a 
sense of disgust the minutest details of this hu- 
miliating scene he galloped on to the village 
where he was told that the commander in chief 
was. 

On reaching the village he dismounted and 
went to the nearest house, intending to rest if 
but for a moment, eat something, and try to 
sort out the stinging and tormenting thoughts 
that confused his mind. "This is a mob of 
scoundrels and not an army," he was thinking 
as he went up to the window of the first house, 
when a familiar voice called him by name. 

He turned round. Nesvitski's handsome face 
looked out of the little window. Nesvftski, mov- 
ing his moist lips as he chewed something, and 
flourishing his arm, called him to enter. 

"Bolk6nski! Bolk6nski! . . . Don't you hear? 
Eh? Come quick . . ." he shouted. 

Entering the house, Prince Andrew saw Nes- 
vftski and another adjutant having something 
to eat. They hastily turned round to him ask- 
ing if he had any news. On their familiar faces 
he read agitation and alarm. This was particu- 
larly noticeable on Nesvitski's usually laugh- 
ing countenance. 

"Where is the commander in chief?" asked 
Bolk6nski. 

"Here, in that house," answered the adju- 
tant. 

"Well, is it true that it's peace and capitula- 
tion?" asked Nesvftski. 

"I was going to ask you. I know nothing ex- 
cept that it was all I could do to get here." 

"And we, my dear boy! It's terrible! 1 was 
wrong to laugh at Mack, we're getting it still 
worse," said Nesvftski. "But sit down and have 
something to eat." 

"You won't be able to find either your bag- 
gage or anything else now, Prince. And God 
only knows where your man Peter is," said the 
other adjutant. 

"Where are headquarters?" 

"We are to spend the night in Znaim." 

"Well, I have got all I need into packs for 
two horses," said Nesvftski. "They've made up 
splendid packs for me fit to cross the Bohe- 



TWO 91 

mian mountains with. It's a bad lookout, old 
fellow! But what's the matter with you? You 
must be ill to shiver like that," he added, no- 
ticing that Prince Andrew winced as at an elec- 
tric shock. 

"It's nothing," replied Prince Andrew. 

He had just remembered his recent encoun- 
ter with the doctor's wife and the convoy offi- 
cer. 

"What is the commander in chief doing 
here?" he asked. 

"I can't make out at all," said Nesvitski. 

"Well, all I canmakeout is that everything is 
abominable, abominable, quite abominable!" 
said Prince Andrew, and he went off to the 
house where the commander in chief was. 

Passing by Kutiizov's carriage and the ex- 
hausted saddle horses of his suite, with their 
Cossacks who were talking loudly together, 
Prince Andrew entered the passage. Kutuzov 
himself, he was told, was in the house with 
Prince Bagrati6n and Weyrother. Weyrother 
was the Austrian general who had succeeded 
Schmidt. In the passage little Kozl6vski was 
squatting on his heels in front of a clerk. The 
clerk, with cuffs turned up, was hastily writing 
at a tub turned bottom upwards. Kozlovski's 
face looked worn he too had evidently not 
slept all night. He glanced at Prince Andrew 
and did not even nod to him. 

"Second line . . . have you written it?" he con- 
tinued dictating to the clerk. "The Kiev Gren- 
adiers, Podolian . . ." 

"One can't write so fast, your honor," said 
the clerk, glancing angrily and disrespectfully 
at Kozlovski. 

Through the door came the sounds of Kutu- 
zov's voice, excited and dissatisfied, interrupted 
by another, an unfamiliar voice. From the 
sound of these voices, the inattentive way Koz- 
16vski looked at him, the disrespectful manner 
of the exhausted clerk, the fact that the clerk 
and Kozl6vski were squatting on the floor by a 
tub so near to the commander in chief, and 
from the noisy laughter of the Cossacks holding 
the horses near the window, Prince Andrew 
felt that something important and disastrous 
was about to happen. 

He turned to Kozl6vski with urgent ques- 
tions. 

"Immediately, Prince," said Kozl6vski. "Dis- 
positions for Bagrati6n." 

"What about capitulation?" 

"Nothing of the sort. Orders are issued for a 
battle." 

Prince Andrew moved toward the door from 



WAR AND PEACE 



whence voices were heard. Just as he was going 
to open it the sounds ceased, the door opened, 
and Kutuzov with his eagle nose and puffy 
face appeared in the doorway. Prince Andrew 
stood right in front of Kutiizov but the expres- 
sion of the commander in chief's one sound eye 
showed him to be so preoccupied with thoughts 
and anxieties as to be oblivious of his presence. 
He looked straight at his adjutant's face with- 
out recognizing him. 

"Well, have you finished?" said he to Kozl6v- 
ski. 

"One moment, your excellency." 

Bagrati6n, a gaunt middle-aged man of me- 
dium height with a firm, impassive face of Ori- 
ental type, came out after the commander in 
chief. 

"I have the honor to present myself," repeat- 
ed Prince Andrew rather loudly, handing Kut- 
iizov an envelope. 

"Ah, from Vienna? Very good. Later, later 1" 

Kutiizov went out into the porch with Ba- 
grati6n. 

"Well, good-by, Prince," said he to Bagration. 
"My blessing, and may Christ be with you in 
your great endeavorl" 

His face suddenly softened and tears came in- 
to his eyes. With his left hand he drew Bagra- 
ti6n toward him, and with his right, on which 
he wore a ring, he made the sign of the cross 
over him with a gesture evidently habitual, of- 
fering his puffy cheek, but Bagrati6n kissed 
him on the neck instead. 

"Christ be with you!" Kutuzov repeated and 
went toward his carriage. "Get in with me," 
said he to Bolk6nski. 

"Your excellency, I should like to be of use 
here. Allow me to remain with Prince Bagra- 
ti6n's detachment." 

"Get in," said Kutuzov, and noticing that 
Bolk6nski still delayed, he added: "I need good 
officers myself, need them myself 1" 

They got into the carriage and drove for a 
few minutes in silence. 

"There is still much, much before us," he 
said, as if with an old man's penetration he un- 
derstood all that was passing in Bolk6nski's 
mind. "If a tenth part of his detachment re- 
turns I shall thank God," he added as if speak- 
ing to himself. 

Prince Andrew glanced at Kutiizov's face on- 
ly a foot distant from him and involuntarily 
noticed the carefully washed seams of the scar 
near his temple, where an Ismail bullet had 
pierced his skull, and the empty eye socket. 
"Yes, he has a right to speak so calmly of those 



men's death," thought Bolk6nski. 

"That is why I beg to be sent to that detach- 
ment," he said. 

Kutuzov did not reply. He seemed to have 
forgotten what he had been saying, and sat 
plunged in thought. Five minutes later, gently 
swaying on the soft springs of the carriage, he 
turned to Prince Andrew. There was not a trace 
of agitation on his face. With delicate irony he 
questioned Prince Andrew about the details 
of his interview with the Emperor, about the 
remarks he had heard at court concerning the 
Krems affair, and about some ladies they both 
knew. 

CHAPTER XIV 

ON NOVEMBER i Kutuzov had received, through 
a spy, news that the army he commanded was 
in an almost hopeless position. The spy reported 
that the French, after crossing the bridge at 
Vienna, were advancing in immense force up- 
on Kutiizov's line of communication with the 
troops that were arriving from Russia. If Ku- 
tuzov decided to remain at Krems, Napoleon's 
army of one hundred and fifty thousand men 
would cut him off completely and surround his 
exhausted army of forty thousand, and he 
would find himself in the position of Mack at 
Ulm. If Kutuzov decided to abandon the road 
connecting him with the troops arriving from 
Russia, he would have to march with no road 
into unknown parts of the Bohemian moun- 
tains, defending himself against superior forces 
of the enemy and abandoning all hope of a 
junction with Buxhowden. If Kutiizov decid- 
ed to retreat along the road from Krems to 
Olmiitz, to unite with the troops arriving 
from Russia, he risked being forestalled on 
that road by the French who had crossed 
the Vienna bridge, and encumbered by his 
baggage and transport, having to accept bat- 
tle on the march against an enemy three times 
as strong, who would hem him in from two 
sides. 

Kutiizov chose this latter course. 

The French, the spy reported, having crossed 
the Vienna bridge, were advancing by forced 
marches toward Znaim, which lay sixty-six 
miles off on the line of Kutiizov's retreat. If he 
reached Znaim before the French, there would 
be great hope of saving the army; to let the 
French forestall him at Znaim meant the ex- 
posure of his whole army to a disgrace such as 
that of Ulm, or to utter destruction. But to 
forestall the French with his whole army was 
impossible. The road for the French from Vi- 



BOOK TWO 



93 



enna to Znaim was shorter and better than the 
road for the Russians from Krems to Znaim. 

The night he received the news, Kutiizov 
sent Bagrati6n's vanguard, four thousand 
strong, to the right across the hills from the 
Krems-Znaim to the Vienna-Znaim road. Ba- 
grati6n was to make this march without rest- 
ing, and to halt facing Vienna with Znaim to 
his rear, and if he succeeded in forestalling the 
French he was to delay them as long as possible. 
Kutiizov himself with all his transport took the 
road to Znaim. 

Marching thirty miles that stormy night 
across roadless hills, with his hungry, ill-shod 
soldiers, and losing a third of his men as strag- 
glers by the way, Bagration came out on the 
Vienna-Znaim road at Hollabriinn a few hours 
ahead of the French who were approaching 
Hollabriinn from Vienna. Kutiizov with his 
transport had still to march for some days be- 
fore he could reach Znaim. Hence Bagrati6n 
with his four thousand hungry, exhausted men 
would have to detain for days the whole enemy 
army that came upon him at Hollabriinn, 
which was clearly impossible. But a freak of 
fate made the impossible possible. The success 
of the trick that had placed the Vienna bridge 
in the hands of the French without a fight led 
Murat to try to deceive Kutiizov in a similar 
way. Meeting Bagration's weak detachment on 
the Znaim road he supposed it to be Kutiizov's 
whole army. To be able to crush it absolutely 
he awaited the arrival of the rest of the troops 
who were on their way from Vienna, and with 
this object offered a three days' truce on condi- 
tion that botharmiesshould remain in position 
without moving. Murat declared that negoti- 
ations for peace were already proceeding, and 
that he therefore offered this truce to avoid un- 
necessary bloodshed. Count Nostitz, the Aus- 
trian general occupying the advanced posts, be- 
lieved Murat's emissary and retired, leaving 
Bagrati6n's division exposed. Another emis- 
sary rode to the Russian line to announce the 
peace negotiations and to offer the Russian ar- 
my the three days' truce. Bagration replied that 
he was not authorized either to accept or re- 
fuse a truce and sent his adjutant to Kutiizov to 
report the offer he had received. 

A truce was Kutiizov's sole chance of gain- 
ing time, giving Bagrati6n's exhausted troops 
some rest, and letting the transport and heavy 
convoys (whose movements were concealed 
from the French) advance if but one stage 
nearer Znaim. The offer of a truce gave the on- 
ly, and a quite unexpected, chance of saving 



the army. On receiving the news he immediate- 
ly dispatched Adjutant General Wintzinger- 
ode, who was in attendance on him, to the en- 
emy camp. Wintzingerode was not merely to 
agree to the truce but also to offer terms of ca- 
pitulation, and meanwhile Kutiizov sent his ad- 
jutants back to hasten to the utmost the move- 
ments of the baggage trains of the entire army 
along the Krems-Znaim road. Bagrati6n's ex- 
hausted and hungry detachment, which alone 
covered this movement of the transport and 
of the whole army, had to remain stationary 
in face of an enemy eight times as strong as it- 
self. 

Kutiizov's expectations that the proposals of 
capitulation (which were in no way binding) 
might give time for part of the transport to 
pass, and also that Murat's mistake would very 
soon be discovered, proved correct. As soon as 
Bonaparte (who was at Schonbrunn, sixteen 
miles from Hollabriinn) received Murat's dis- 
patch with the proposal of a truce and a capit- 
ulation, he detected a ruse and wrote the fol- 
lowing letter to Murat: 

Schonbrunn, 25th Brumaire, 1805, 
at eight o'clock in the morning 
To PRINCE MURAT, 

I cannot find words to express to you my dis- 
pleasure. You command only my advance guard, 
and have no right to arrange an armistice without 
my order. You are causing me to lose the fruits 
of a campaign. Break the armistice immediately 
and march on the enemy. Inform him that the 
general who signed that capitulation had no right 
to do so, and that no one but the Emperor of 
Russia has that right. 

If, however, the Emperor of Russia ratifies that 
convention, I will ratify it; but it is only a trick. 
March on, destroy the Russian army. . . . You are 
in a position to seize its baggage and artillery. 

The Russian Emperor's aide-de-camp is an im- 
postor. Officers are nothing when they have no 
powers; this one had none. . . . The Austrians let 
themselves be tricked at the crossing of the Vienna 
bridge, you are letting yourself be tricked by an 
aide-de-camp of the Emperor. 

NAPOLEON 

Bonaparte's adjutant rode full gallop with 
this menacing letter to Murat. Bonaparte him- 
self, not trusting to his generals, moved with 
all the Guards to the field of battle, afraid of 
letting a ready victim escape, and Bagrati6n's 
four thousand men merrily lighted campfires, 
dried and warmed themselves, cooked their 
porridge for the first time for three days, and 
not one of them knew or imagined what was in 
store for him. 



94 



WAR AND PEACE 



CHAPTER XV 

BETWEEN three and four o'clock in the after- 
noon Prince Andrew, who had persisted in his 
request to Kutuzov, arrived at Grunth and re- 
ported himself to Bagrati6n. Bonaparte's ad- 
jutant had not yet reached Murat's detach- 
ment and the battle had not yet begun. In Ba- 
grati6n's detachment no one knew anything of 
the general position of affairs. They talked of 
peace but did not believe in its possibility; oth- 
ers talked of a battle but also disbelieved in the 
nearness of an engagement. Bagrati6n, know- 
ing Bolk6nski to be a favorite and trusted ad- 
jutant, received him with distinction and spe- 
cial marks of favor, explaining to him that 
there would probably be an engagement that 
day or the next, and giving him full liberty to 
remain with him during the battle or to join 
the rearguard and have an eye on the order 
of retreat, "which is also very important." 

"However, there will hardly be an engage- 
ment today," said Bagrati6n as if to reassure 
Prince Andrew. 

"If he is one of the ordinary little staff dan- 
dies sent to earn a medal he can get his reward 
just as well in the rearguard, but if he wishes 
to stay with me, let him . . . he'll be of use 
here if he's a brave officer," thought Bagrati6n. 
Prince Andrew, without replying, asked the 
prince's permission to ride round the position 
to see the disposition of the forces, so as to 
know his bearings should he be sent to execute 
an order. The officer on duty, a handsome, ele- 
gantly dressed man with a diamond ring on his 
forefinger, who was fond of speaking French 
though he spoke it badly, offered to conduct 
Prince Andrew. 

On all sides they saw rain-soaked officers with 
dejected faces who seemed to be seeking some- 
thing, and soldiers dragging doors, benches, 
and fencing from the village. 

"There now, Prince! We can't stop those fel- 
lows/' said the staff officer pointing to the sol- 
diers. "The officers don't keep them in hand. 
And there," he pointed to a sutler's tent, "they 
crowd in and sit. This morning I turned them 
all out and now look, it's full again. I must go 
there, Prince, and scare them a bit. It won't 
take a moment." 

"Yes, let's go in and I will get myself a roll 
and some cheese," said Prince Andrew who 
had not yet had time to eat anything. 

"Why didn't you mention it, Prince? I would 
have offered you something." 

They dismounted and entered the tent. Sev- 
eral officers, with flushed and weary faces, were 



sitting at the table eating and drinking. 

"Now what does this mean, gentlemen?" said 
the staff officer, in the reproachful tone of a 
man who has repeated the same thing more 
than once. "You know it won't do to leave your 
posts like this. The prince gave orders that no 
one should leave his post. Now you, Captain," 
and he turned to a thin, dirty little artillery of- 
ficer who without his boots (he had given them 
to the canteen keeper to dry), in only his stock- 
ings, rose when they entered, smiling not alto- 
gether comfortably. 

"Well, aren't you ashamed of yourself, Cap- 
tain Tusliin?" he continued. "One would think 
that as an artillery officer you would set a good 
example, yet here you are without your boots! 
The alarm will be sounded and you'll be in a 
pretty position without your boots!" (The staff 
officer smiled.) "Kindly return to your posts, 
gentlemen, all of you, all!" he added in a tone 
of command. 

Prince Andrew smiled involuntarily as he 
looked at the artillery officer Tushin, who si- 
lent and smiling, shifting from one stockinged 
foot to the other, glanced inquiringly with his 
large, intelligent, kindly eyes from Prince An- 
drew to the staff officer. 

"The soldiers say it feels easier without 
boots," said Captain Tushin smiling shyly in 
his uncomfortable position, evidently wishing 
to adopt a jocular tone. But before he had fin- 
ished he felt that his jest was unacceptable and 
had not come off. He grew confused. 

"Kindly return to your posts," said the staff 
officer trying to preserve his gravity. 

Prince Andrew glanced again at the artillery 
officer's small figure. There was something pe- 
culiar about it, quite unsoldierly, rather comic, 
but extremely attractive. 

The staff officer and Prince Andrew mounted 
their horses and rode on. 

Having ridden beyond the village, contin- 
ually meeting and overtaking soldiers and of- 
ficers of various regiments, they saw on their 
left some entrenchments being thrown up, the 
freshly dug clay of which showed up red. Sev- 
eral battalions of soldiers, in their shirt sleeves 
despite the cold wind, swarmed in these earth- 
works like a host of white ants; spadefuls of red 
clay were continually being thrown up from 
behind the bank by unseen hands. Prince An- 
drew and the officer rode up, looked at the en- 
trenchment, and went on again. Just behind it 
they came upon some dozens of soldiers, con- 
tinually replaced by others, who ran from the 
entrenchment. They had to hold their noses 



BOOK TWO 



95 



and put their horses to a trot to escape from 
the poisoned atmosphere of these latrines. 

"Voild I'agrdment des camps, monsieur le 
prince" * said the staff officer. 

They rode up the opposite hill. From there 
the French could already be seen. Prince An- 
drew stopped and began examining the posi- 
tion. 

"That's our battery," said the staff officer in- 
dicating the highest point. "It's in charge of 
the queer fellow we saw without his boots. You 
can see everything from there; let's go there, 
Prince." 

"Thank you very much, I will go on alone," 
said Prince Andrew, wishing to rid himself of 
this staff officer's company, "please don't trou- 
ble yourself further." 

The staff officer remained behind and Prince 
Andrew rode on alone. 

The farther forward and nearer the enemy 
he went, the more orderly and cheerful were 
the troops. The greatest disorder and depres- 
sion had been in the baggage train he had passed 
that morning on the Znaim road seven miles 
away from the French. At Grunth also some ap- 
prehension and alarm could be felt, but the 
nearer Prince Andrew came to the French lines 
the more confident was the appearance of our 
troops. The soldiers in their greatcoats were 
ranged in lines, the sergeants major and com- 
pany officers were counting themen, poking the 
last man in each section in the ribs and telling 
him to hold his hand up. Soldiers scattered 
over the whole place were dragging logs and 
brushwood and were building shelters with 
merry chatter and laughter; around the fires 
sat others, dressed and undressed, drying their 
shirts and leg bands or mending boots or over- 
coats and crowding round the boilers and por- 
ridge cookers. In one company dinner was 
ready, and the soldiers were gazing eagerly at 
the steaming boiler, waiting till the sample, 
which a quartermaster sergeant was carrying in 
a wooden bowl to an officer who sat on a log be- 
fore his shelter, had been tasted. 

Another company, a lucky one for not all the 
companies had vodka, crowded round a pock- 
marked, broad-shouldered sergeant majorwho, 
tilting a keg, filled one after another the can- 
teen lids held out to him. The soldiers lifted 
the canteen lids to their lips with reverential 
faces, emptied them, rolling the vodka in their 
mouths, and walked away from the sergeant 
major with brightened expressions, licking 
their lips and wiping them on the sleeves of 

1 "This is a pleasure one gets in camp, Prince." 



their greatcoats. All their faces were as serene 
as if all this were happening at home awaiting 
peaceful encampment, and not within sight of 
the enemy before an action in which at least 
half of them would be left on the field. After 
passing a chasseur regiment and in the lines of 
the Kiev grenadiers fine fellows busy withsim- 
ilar peaceful affairs near the shelter of the reg- 
imental commander, higher than and different 
from the others, Prince Andrew came out in 
front of a platoon of grenadiers before whom 
lay a naked man. Two soldiers held him while 
two others were flourishing their switches and 
striking him regularly on his bare back. The 
man shrieked unnaturally. A stout major was 
pacing up and down the line, and regardless of 
the screams kept repeating: 

"It's a shame for a soldier to steal; a soldier 
must be honest, honorable, and brave, but if 
he robs his fellows there is no honor in him, 
he's a scoundrel. Go on! Go on!" 

So the swishing sound of the strokes, and the 
desperate but unnatural screams, continued. 

"Go on, go on!" said the major. 

A young officer with a bewildered and pained 
expression on his face stepped away from the 
man and looked round inquiringly at the ad- 
jutant as he rode by. 

Prince Andrew, having reached the front 
line, rode along it. Our front line and that of 
the enemy were far apart on the right and left 
flanks, but in the center where the men with a 
flag of truce had passed that morning, the lines 
were so near together that the men could see 
one another's faces and speak to one another. 
Besides the soldiers who formed the picket line 
on either side, there were many curious onlook- 
ers who, jesting and laughing, stared at their 
strange foreign enemies. 

Since early morning despite an injunction 
not to approach the picket line the officers 
had been unable to keep sight-seers away. The 
soldiers forming the picket line, like showmen 
exhibiting a curiosity, no longer looked at the 
French but paid attention to the sight-seers and 
grew weary waiting to be relieved. Prince An- 
drew halted to have a look at the French. 

"Look! Look there 1" one soldier was saying 
to another, pointing to a Russian musketeer 
who had gone up to the picket line with an of- 
ficer and was rapidly and excitedly talking to a 
French grenadier. "Hark to him jabbering! 
Fine, isn't it? It's all the Frenchycan do to keep 
up with him. There now, Sfdorov!" 

"Wait a bit and listen. It's fine!" answered 
Sfdorov, who was considered an adept at French. 



WAR AND PEACE 



The soldier to whom the laughers referred 
was Dolokhov. Prince Andrew recognized him 
and stopped to listen to what he was saying. 
D61okhov had come from the left flank where 
their regiment was stationed, with his captain. 

"Now then, go on, go on!" incited the officer, 
bending forward and trying not to lose a word 
of the speech which was incomprehensible to 
him. "More, please: more! What's he saying? 

D61okhov did not answer the captain; he 
had been drawn into a hot dispute with the 
French grenadier. They were naturally talking 
about the campaign. The Frenchman, confus- 
ing the Austrians with the Russians, was trying 
to prove that the Russians had surrendered and 
had fled all the way from Ulm, while D61okhov 
maintained that the Russians had not surren- 
dered but had beaten the French. 

"We have orders to drive you off here, and 
we shall drive you off," said D61okhov. 

"Only take care you and your Cossacks are 
not all captured!" said the French grenadier. 

The French onlookers and listeners laughed. 

"We'll make you dance as we did under Su- 
v6rov . . . ," * said D61okhov. 

"Qu' est-ce qu'H chante?" * asked a French- 
man. 

"It's ancient history," said another, guess- 
ing that it referred to a former war. "The Em- 
peror will teach your Suvara as he has taught 
the others ..." 

"Bonaparte ..." began D61okhov, but the 
Frenchman interrupted him. 

"Not Bonaparte. He is the Emperor! Sacrd 
nom . , . /" cried he angrily. 

"The devil skin your Emperor." 

And D61okhov swore at him in coarse sol- 
dier's Russian and shouldering his musket 
walked away. 

"Let us go, Ivan Lukich," he said to the cap- 
tain. 

"Ah, that's the way to talk French," said the 
picket soldiers. "Now, Sfdorov,you have a try!" 

Sfdorov, turning to the French, winked, and 
began to jabber meaningless sounds very fast: 
"Kari, mala, tafa, safi, muter, Kasha," he said, 
trying to give an expressive intonation to his 
voice. 

"Ho! ho! ho! Ha! ha! ha! ha! Ouh! ouh!" 
came peals of such healthy and good-humored 
laughter from the soldiers that it infected the 
French involuntarily, so much so that the only 
thing left to do seemed to be to unload the mus- 
kets, explode the ammunition, and all return 

1 "On vous fera danser" 

* "What's he singing about?" 



home as quickly as possible. 

But the guns remained loaded, the loopholes 
in blockhouses and entrenchments looked out 
just as menacingly, and the unlimbered can- 
non confronted one another as before. 

CHAPTER XVI 

HAVING RIDDEN round the whole line from right 
flank to left, Prince Andrew made his way up 
to the battery from which the staff officer had 
told him the whole field could be seen. Here 
he dismounted, and stopped beside the farthest 
of the four unlimbered cannon. Before theguns 
an artillery sentry was pacing up and down; he 
stood at attention when the officer arrived, but 
at a sign resumed his measured, monotonous 
pacing. Behind the guns were their limbers 
and still farther back picket ropes and artillery- 
men's bonfires. To the left, not far from the 
farthest cannon, was a small, newly constructed 
wattle shed from which came the sound of of- 
ficers' voices in eager conversation. 

It was true that a view over nearly the whole 
Russian position and the greater part of the 
enemy's opened out from this battery. Just fac- 
ing it, on the crest of the opposite hill, the vil- 
lage of Schon Grabern could be seen, and in 
three places to left and right the French troops 
amid the smoke of their campfires, the greater 
part of whom were evidently in the village it- 
self and behind the hill. To the left from that 
village, amid the smoke, was something resem- 
bling a battery, but it was impossible to see it 
clearly with the naked eye. Our right flank was 
posted on a rather steep incline which domi- 
nated the French position. Our infantry were 
stationed there, and at the farthest point the 
dragoons. In the center, where Tiishin's bat- 
tery stood and from which Prince Andrew was 
surveying the position, was the easiest and most 
direct descent and ascent to the brook separat- 
ing us from Schon Grabern. On the left our 
troops were close to a copse, in which smoked 
the bonfires of our infantry who were felling 
wood. The French line was wider than ours, 
and it was plain that they could easily outflank 
us on both sides. Behind our position was a 
steep and deep dip, making it difficult for ar- 
tillery and cavalry to retire. Prince Andrew 
took out his notebook and, leaning on the can- 
non, sketched a plan of the position. He made 
some notes on two points, intending to men- 
tion them to Bagrati6n. His idea was, first, to 
concentrate all the artillery in the center, and 
secondly, to withdraw the cavalry to the other 
side of the dip. Prince Andrew, being always 



BOOK TWO 



97 



near the commander in chief, closely follow- 
ing the mass movements and general orders, 
and constantly studying historical accounts of 
battles, involuntarily pictured to himself the 
course of events in the forthcoming action in 
broad outline. He imagined only important 
possibilities: "If the enemy attacks the right 
flank," he said to himself, "the Kiev grenadiers 
and the Pod61sk chasseurs must hold their po- 
sition till reserves from the center come up. In 
that case the dragoons could successfully make 
a flank counterattack. If they attack our center 
we, having the center battery on this high 
ground, shall withdraw the left flank under its 
cover, and retreat to the dip by echelons." So 
he reasoned. ... All the time he had been be- 
side the gun, he had heard the voices of the offi- 
cers distinctly, but as often happens had not 
understood a word of what they were saying. 
Suddenly, however, he was struck by a voice 
coming from the shed, and its tone was so sin- 
cere that he could not but listen. 

"No, friend," said a pleasant and, as it 
seemed to Prince Andrew, a familiar voice, 
"what I say is that if it were possible to know 
what is beyond death, none of us would be 
afraid of it. That's so, friend." 

Another, a younger voice, interrupted him: 
"Afraid or not, you can't escape it anyhow." 

"All the same, one is afraid! Oh, you clever 
people," said a third manly voice interrupt- 
ing them both. "Of course you artillery men 
are very wise, because you can take everything 
along with you vodka and snacks." 

And the owner of the manly voice, evidently 
an infantry officer, laughed. 

"Yes, one is afraid," continued the first speak- 
er, he of the familiar voice. "One is afraid of 
the unknown, that's what it is. Whatever we 
may say about the soul going to the sky ... we 
know there is no sky but only an atmosphere." 

The manly voice again interrupted the ar- 
tillery officer. 

"Well, stand us some of your herb vodka, 
Tushin," it said. 

"Why," thought Prince Andrew, "that's the 
captain who stood up in the sutler's hut with- 
out his boots." He recognized the agreeable, 
philosophizing voice with pleasure. 

"Some herb vodka? Certainly 1" said Tiishin. 
"But still, to conceive a future life . . ." 

He did not finish. Just then there was a whis- 
tle in the air; nearer and nearer, faster and 
louder, louder and faster, a cannon ball, as if 
it had not finished saying what was necessary, 
thudded into the ground near the shed with 



superhuman force, throwing up a mass of earth. 
The ground seemed to groan at the terrible im- 
pact. 

And immediately Tiishin, with a short pipe 
in the corner of his mouth and his kind, intel- 
ligent face rather pale, rushed out of the shed 
followed by the owner of the manly voice, a 
dashing infantry officer who hurried off to his 
company, buttoning up his coat as he ran. 

CHAPTER XVII 

MOUNTING HIS HORSE again Prince Andrew lin- 
gered with the battery, looking at the puff from 
the gun that had sent the ball. His eyes ran 
rapidly over the wide space, but he only saw 
that the hitherto motionless masses of the 
French now swayed and that there really was a 
battery to their left. The smoke above it had 
not yet dispersed. Two mounted Frenchmen, 
probably adjutants, were galloping up the hill. 
A small but distinctly visible enemy column 
was moving down the hill, probably to strength- 
en the front line. The smoke of the first shot 
had not yet dispersed before another puff ap- 
peared, followed by a report. The battle had 
begun 1 Prince Andrew turned his horse and 
galloped back to Grunth to find Prince Bagra- 
tion. He heard the cannonade behind him 
growing louder and more frequent. Evidently 
our guns had begun to reply. From the bottom 
of the slope, where the parleys had taken place, 
came the report of musketry. 

Lemarrois had just arrived at a gallop with 
Bonaparte's stern letter, and Murat, humili- 
ated and anxious to expiate his fault, had at 
once moved his forces to attack the center and 
outflank both the Russian wings, hoping be- 
fore evening and before the arrival of the Em- 
peror to crush the contemptible detachment 
that stood before him. 

"It has begun. Here it is!" thought Prince 
Andrew, feeling the blood rush to his heart. 
"But where and how will my Toulon present 
itself?" 

Passing between the companies that had been 
eating porridge and drinking vodka a quarter 
of an hour before, he saw everywhere the same 
rapid movement of soldiers forming ranks and 
getting their muskets ready, and on all their 
faces he recognized the same eagerness that 
filled his heart. "It has begun! Here it is, dread- 
ful but enjoyable!" was what the face of each 
soldier and each officer seemed to say. 

Before he had reached the embankments that 
were being thrown up, he saw, in the light of 
the dull autumn evening, mounted men com- 



WAR AND PEACE 



ing toward him. The foremost, wearing a Cos- 
sack cloak and lambskin cap and riding a 
white horse, was Prince Bagrati6n. Prince An- 
drew stopped, waiting for him to come up; 
Prince Bagrati6n reined in his horse and recog- 
nizing Prince Andrew nodded to him. He still 
looked ahead while Prince Andrew told him 
what he had seen. 

The feeling, "It has begun! Here it is!" was 
seen even on Prince Bagrati6n's hard brown 
face with its half-closed, dull, sleepy eyes. Prince 
Andrew gazed with anxious curiosity at that 
impassive face and wished he could tell what, 
if anything, this man was thinking and feeling 
at that moment. "Is there anything at all be- 
hind that impassive face?" Prince Andrew asked 
himself as he looked. Prince Bagrati6n bent 
his head in sign of agreement with what Prince 
Andrew told him, and said, "Very good!" in a 
tone that seemed to imply that everything that 
took place and was reported to him was exact- 
ly what he had foreseen. Prince Andrew, out of 
breath with his rapid ride, spoke quickly. Prince 
Bagrati6n, uttering his words with an Oriental 
accent, spoke particularly slowly, as if to im- 
press the fact that there was no need to hurry. 
However, he put his horse to a trot in the di- 
rection of Ttishin's battery. Prince Andrew fol- 
lowed with the suite. Behind Prince Bagrati6n 
rode an officer of the suite, the prince's per- 
sonal adjutant, Zherkriv, an orderly officer, the 
staff officer on duty, riding a fine bobtailed 
horse, and a civilian an accountant who had 
asked permission to be present at the battle 
out of curiosity. The accountant, a stout, full- 
faced man, looked around him with a nai've 
smile of satisfaction and presented a strange 
appearance among the hussars, Cossacks, and 
adjutants, in his camlet coat, as he jolted on his 
horse with a convoy officer's saddle. 

"He wants to see a battle," said Zherk6v to 
Bolk6nski, pointing to the accountant, "but 
he feels a pain in the pit of his stomach al- 
ready." 

"Oh, leave off!" said the accountant with a 
beaming but rather cunning smile, as if flat- 
tered at being made the subject of Zherk6v's 
joke, and purposely trying to appear stupider 
than he really was. 

"It is very strange, mon Monsieur Prince" 
said the staff officer. (He remembered that in 
French there is some peculiar way of address- 
ing a prince, but could not get it quite right.) 

By this time they were all approaching Tu- 
shin's battery, and a ball struck the ground in 
front of them. 



"What's that that has fallen?" asked the ac- 
countant with a naive smile. 

"A French pancake," answered Zherk6v. 

"So that's what they hit with?" asked the ac- 
countant. "How awful!" 

He seemed to swell with satisfaction. He had 
hardly finished speaking when they again heard 
an unexpectedly violent whistling which sud- 
denly ended with a thud into something soft 
. . . f-f-flop! and a Cossack, riding a little to 
their right and behind the accountant, crashed 
to earth with his horse. Zherkov and the staff 
officer bent over their saddles and turned their 
horses away. The accountant stopped, facing 
the Cossack, and examined him with attentive 
curiosity. The Cossack was dead, but the horse 
still struggled. 

Prince Bagrati6n screwed up his eyes, looked 
round, and, seeing the cause of the confusion, 
turned away with indifference, as if to say, "Is 
it worth while noticing trifles?" He reined in 
his horse with the ease of a skillful rider and, 
slightly bending over, disengaged his saber 
which had caught in his cloak. It was an old- 
fashioned saber of a kind no longer in general 
use. Prince Andrew remembered the story of 
Suvorov giving his saber to Bagrati6n in Italy, 
and the recollection was particularly pleasant 
at that moment. They had reached the battery 
at which Prince Andrew had been when he ex- 
amined the battlefield. 

"Whose company?" asked Prince Bagrati6n 
of an artilleryman standing by the ammuni- 
tion wagon. 

He asked, "Whose company?" but he really 
meant, "Are you frightened here?" and the 
artilleryman understood him. 

"Captain Tushin's, your excellency!" shout- 
ed the red-haired, freckled gunner in a merry 
voice, standing to attention. 

"Yes, yes," muttered Bagrati6n as if consid- 
ering something, and he rode past the limbers 
to the farthest cannon. 

As he approached, a ringing shot issued from 
it deafening him and his suite, and in the smoke 
that suddenly surrounded the gun they could 
see the gunners who had seized it straining to 
roll it quickly back to its former position. A 
huge, broad-shouldered gunner, Number One, 
holding a mop, his legs far apart, sprang to the 
wheel; while Number Two with a trembling 
hand placed a charge in the cannon's mouth. 
The short, round-shouldered Captain Tiishin, 
stumbling over the tail of the gun carriage, 
moved forward and, not noticing the general, 
looked out shading his eyes with his small hand. 



BOOK TWO 



99 



"Lift it two lines more and it will be just 
right," cried he in a feeble voice to which he 
tried to impart a dashing note, ill suited to his 
weak figure. "Number Two!" he squeaked. 
"Fire, Medve*devl" 

Bagrati6n called to him, and Tushin, raising 
three fingers to his cap with a bashful and awk- 
ward gesture not at all like a military salute 
but like a priest's benediction, approached the 
general. Though Tushin's guns had been in- 
tended to cannonade the valley, he was firing 
incendiary balls at the village of Schon Gra- 
bern visible just opposite, in front of which 
large masses of French were advancing. 

No one had given, Tushin orders where and 
at what to fire, but after consulting his ser- 
geant major, Zakharchenko, for whom he had 
great respect, he had decided that it would be 
a good thing to set fire to the village. "Very 
good I" said Bagrati6n in reply to the officer's 
report, and began deliberately to examine the 
whole battlefield extended before him. The 
French had advanced nearest on our right. Be- 
low the height on which the Kiev regiment was 
stationed, in the hollow where the rivulet 
flowed, the soul-stirring rolling and crackling 
of musketry was heard, and much farther to 
the right beyond the dragoons, the officer of 
the suite pointed out to Bagration a French 
column that was outflanking us. To the left 
the horizon was bounded by the adjacent wood. 
Prince Bagrad6n ordered two battalions from 
the center to be sent to reinforce the right 
flank. The officer of the suite ventured to re- 
mark to the prince that if these battalions went 
away, the guns would remain without support. 
Prince Bagrati6n turned to the officer and with 
his dull eyes looked at him in silence. It seemed 
to Prince Andrew that the officer's remark was 
just and that really no answer could be made 
to it. But at that moment an adjutant galloped 
up with a message from the commander of the 
regiment in the hollow and news that immense 
masses of the French were coming down upon 
them and that his regiment was in disorder 
and was retreating upon the Kiev grenadiers. 
Prince Bagration bowed his head in sign of as- 
sent and approval. He rode off at a walk to the 
right and sent an adjutant to the dragoons 
with orders to attack the French. But this ad- 
jutant returned half an hour later with the 
news that the commander of the dragoons had 
already retreated beyond the dip in the ground, 
as a heavy fire had been opened on him and he 
was losing men uselessly, and so had hastened 
to throw some sharpshooters into the wood. 



"Very good!" said Bagrati6n. 

As he was leaving the battery, firing was heard 
on the left also, and as it was too far to the left 
flank for him to have time to go there himself, 
Prince Bagrati6n sent Zherk6v to tell the gen- 
eral in command (the one who had paraded 
his regiment before Kutuzov at Braunau) that 
he must retreat as quickly as possible behind 
the hollow in the rear, as the right flank would 
probably not be able to withstand the enemy's 
attack very long. About Tushin and the bat- 
talion that had been in support of his battery 
all was forgotten. Prince Andrew listened at- 
tentively to Bagrati6n's colloquies with the 
commanding officers and the orders he gave 
them and, to his surprise, found that no orders 
were really given, but that Prince Bagrati6n 
tried to make it appear that everything done 
by necessity, by accident, or by the will of sub- 
ordinate commanders was done, if not by his 
direct command, at least in accord with his in- 
tentions. Prince Andrew noticed, however, that 
though what happened was due to chance and 
was independent of the commander's will, ow- 
ing to the tact Bagrati6n showed, his presence 
was very valuable. Officers who approached him 
with disturbed countenances became calm; sol- 
diers and officers greeted him gaily, grew more 
cheerful in his presence, and were evidently 
anxious to display their courage before him. 

CHAPTER XVIII 

PRINCE BAGRATION, having reached the high- 
est point of our right flank, began riding down- 
hill to where the roll of musketry was heard 
but where on account of the smoke nothing 
could be seen. The nearer they got to the hol- 
low the less they could see but the more they 
felt the nearness of the actual battlefield. They 
began to meet wounded men. One with a 
bleeding head and no cap was being dragged 
along by two soldiers who supported him un- 
der the arms. There was a gurgle in his throat 
and he was spitting blood. A bullet had evi- 
dently hit him in the throat or mouth. Another 
was walking sturdily by himself but without 
his musket, groaning aloud and swinging his 
ann which had just been hurt, while blood 
from it was streaming over his greatcoat as 
from a bottle. He had that moment been 
wounded and his face showed fear rather than 
suffering. Crossing a road they descended a 
steep incline and saw several men lying on the 
ground; they also met a crowd of soldiers some 
of whom were unwounded. The soldiers were 
ascending the hill breathing heavily, and de- 



1OO 



WAR AND PEACE 



spite the general's presence were talking loud- 
ly and gesticulating. In front of them rows of 
gray cloaks were already visible through the 
smoke, and an officer catching sight of Bagra- 
ti6n rushed shouting after the crowd of retreat- 
ing soldiers, ordering them back. Bagrati6n 
rode up to the ranks along which shots crackled 
now here and now there, drowning the sound 
of voices and the shouts of command. The whole 
air reeked with smoke. The excited faces of the 
soldiers were blackened with it. Some were 
using their ramrods, others putting powder on 
the touchpans or taking charges from their 
pouches, while others were firing, though who 
they were firing at could not be seen for the 
smoke which there was no wind to carry away. 
A pleasant humming and whistling of bullets 
were often heard. "What is this?" thought 
Prince Andrew approaching the crowd of sol- 
diers. "It can't be an attack, for they are not 
moving; it can't be a squarefor they are not 
drawn up for that." 

The commander of the regiment, a thin, 
feeble-looking old man with a pleasant smile 
his eyelids drooping more than half over his 
old eyes, giving him a mild expression, rode up 
to Bagrati6n and welcomed him as a host wel- 
comes an honored guest. He reported that his 
regiment had been attacked by French cavalry 
and that, though the attack had been repulsed, 
he had lost more than half his men. He said 
the attack had been repulsed, employing this 
military term to describe what had occurred to 
his regiment, but in reality he did not himself 
know what had happened during that half- 
hour to the troops entrusted to him, and could 
not say with certainty whether the attack had 
been repulsed or his regiment had been bro- 
ken up. All he knew was that at the commence- 
ment of the action balls and shells began fly- 
ing all over his regiment and hitting men and 
that afterwards someone had shouted "Caval- 
ry!" and our men had begun firing. They were 
still firing, not at the cavalry which had disap- 
peared, but at French infantry who had come 
into the hollow and were firing at our men. 
Prince Bagration bowed his head as a sign that 
this was exactly what he had desired and ex- 
pected. Turning to his adjutant he ordered 
him to bring down the two battalions of the 
Sixth Chasseurs whom they had just passed. 
Prince Andrew was struck by the changed ex- 
pression on Prince Bagrati6n's face at this mo- 
ment. It expressed the concentrated and hap- 
py resolution you see on the face of a man who 
on a hot day takes a final run before plunging 



into the water. The dull, sleepy expression was 
no longer there, nor the affectation of pro- 
found thought. The round, steady, hawk's eyes 
looked before him eagerly and rather disdain- 
fully, not resting on anything although his 
movements were still slow and measured. 

The commander of the regiment turned to 
Prince Bagration, entreating him to go back as 
it was too dangerous to remain where they 
were. "Please, your excellency, for God'ssake!" 
he kept saying, glancing for support at an of- 
ficer of the suite who turned away from him. 
"There, you see!" and he drew attention to the 
bullets whistling, singing, and hissing continu- 
ally around them. He spote in the tone of en- 
treaty and reproach that a carpenter uses to a 
gentleman who has picked up an ax: "We are 
used to it, but you, sir, will blister your hands." 
He spoke as if those bullets could not kill him, 
and his half-closed eyes gave still more persua- 
siveness to his words. The staff officer joined in 
the colonel's appeals, but Bagrati6n did not re- 
ply; he only gave an order to cease firing and 
re-form, so as to give room for the two ap- 
proaching battalions. While he was speaking, 
the curtain of smoke that had concealed the 
hollow, driven by a rising wind, began to move 
from right to left as if drawn by an invisible 
hand, and the hill opposite, with the French 
moving about on it, opened out before them. 
All eyes fastened involuntarily on this French 
column advancing against them and winding 
down over the uneven ground. One could al- 
ready see the soldiers' shaggy caps, distinguish 
the officers from the men, and see the standard 
flapping against its staff. 

"They march splendidly," remarked some- 
one in Bagrati6n's suite. 

The head of the column had already de- 
scended into the hollow. The clash would take 
place on this side of it 

The remains of our regiment which had been 
in action rapidly formed up and moved to the 
right; from behind it, dispersing the laggards, 
came two battalions of the Sixth Chasseurs in 
fine order. Before they had reached Bagration, 
the weighty tread of the mass of men marching 
in step could be heard. On their left flank, near- 
est to Bagrati6n, marched a company command- 
er, a fine round-faced man, with a stupid and 
happy expressionthe same man who had 
rushed out of the wattle shed. At that moment 
he was clearly thinking of nothing but how 
dashing a fellow he would appear as he passed 
the commander. 

With the self-satisfaction of a man on pa- 



BOOK TWO 



rade, he stepped lightly with his muscular legs 
as if sailing along, stretching himself to his full 
height without the smallest effort, his ease con- 
trasting with the heavy tread of the soldiers 
who were keeping step with him. He carried 
close to his leg a narrow unsheathed sword 
(small, curved, and not like a real weapon) and 
looked now at the superior officers and now 
back at the men without losing step, his whole 
powerful body turning flexibly. It was as if all 
the powers of his soul were concentrated on 
passing the commander in the best possible 
manner, and feeling that he was doing it well 
he was happy. "Left . . . left . . . left . . ." he 
seemed to repeat to himself at each alternate 
step; and in time to this, with stern but varied 
faces, the wall of soldiers burdened with knap- 
sacks and muskets marched in step, and each 
one of these hundreds of soldiers seemed to be 
repeating to himself at each alternate step, 
"Left . . . left . . . left ..." A fat major skirted 
a bush, puffing and falling out of step; a sol- 
dier who had fallen behind, his face showing 
alarm at his defection, ran at a trot, panting to 
catch up with his company. A cannon ball, 
cleaving the air, flew over the heads of Bagra- 
tion and his suite, and fell into the column to 
the measure of "Left . . . left!" "Close up!" 
came the company commander's voice in jaunty 
tones. The soldiers passed in a semicircle round 
something where the ball had fallen, and an 
old trooper on the flank, a noncommissioned 
officer who had stopped beside the dead men, 
ran to catch up his line and, falling into step 
with a hop, looked back angrily, and through 
the ominous silence and the regular tramp of 
feet beating the ground in unison, one seemed 
to hear left . . . left . . . left. 

"Well done, lads!" said Prince Bagrati6n. 

"Glad to do our best, your ex'len-lencyl" 
came a confused shout from the ranks. A mo- 
rose soldier marching on the left turned his 
eyes on Bagrati6n as he shouted, with an ex- 
pression that seemed to say: "We know that 
ourselves!" Another, without looking round, 
as though fearing to relax, shouted with his 
mouth wide open and passed on. 

The order was given to halt and down knap- 
sacks. 

Bagrati6n rode round the ranks that had 
marched past him and dismounted. He gave 
the reins to a Cossack, took off and handed 
over his felt coat, stretched his legs, and set his 
cap straight. The head of the French column, 
with its officers leading, appeared from below 
the hill. 



101 

"Forward, with God!" said Bagrati6n, in a 
resolute, sonorous voice, turning for a moment 
to the front line, and slightly swinging his 
arms, he went forward uneasily over the rough 
field with the awkward gait of a cavalryman. 
Prince Andrew felt that an invisible power was 
leading him forward, and experienced great 
happiness. 

The French were already near. Prince An- 
drew, walking beside Bagrati6n, could clearly 
distinguish their bandoliers, red epaulets, and 
even their faces. (He distinctly saw an old 
French officer who, with gaitered legs and 
turned-out toes, climbed the hill with difficul- 
ty.) Prince Bagrati6n gave no further orders 
and silently continued to walk on in front of 
the ranks. Suddenly one shot after another rang 
out from the French, smoke appeared all along 
their uneven ranks, and musket shots sounded. 
Several of our men fell, among them the round- 
faced officer who had marched so gaily and 
complacently. But at the moment the first re- 
port was heard, Bagrati6n looked round and 
shouted, "Hurrah!" 

"Hurrah ah! ah!" rang a long-drawn shout 
from our ranks, and passing Bagrati6n and rac- 
ing one another they rushed in an irregular 
but joyous and eager crowd down the hill at 
their disordered foe. 

CHAPTER XIX 

THE ATTACK of the Sixth Chasseurs secured the 
retreat of our right flank. In the center Tu- 
shin's forgotten battery, which had managed 
to set fire to theSchon Grabern village, delayed 
the French advance. The French were putting 
out the fire which the wind was spreading, and 
thus gave us time to retreat. The retirement of 
the center to the other side of the dip in the 
ground at the rear was hurried and noisy, but 
the different companies did not get mixed. But 
our left which consisted of the Az6v and Po- 
d61sk infantry and the Pavlograd hussars was 
simultaneously attacked and outflanked by su- 
perior French forces under Lannes and was 
thrown into confusion. Bagrati6n had sent 
Zherk6v to the general commanding that left 
flank with orders to retreat immediately. 

Zherk6v, not removing his hand from his 
cap, turned his horse about and galloped off. 
But no sooner had he left Bagrati6n than his 
courage failed him. He was seized by panic and 
could not go where it was dangerous. 

Having reached the left flank, instead of go- 
ing to the front where the firing was, he began 
to look for the general and his staff where they 



102 



WAR AND PEACE 



could not possibly be, and so did not deliver 
the order. 

The command of the left flank belonged by 
seniority to the commander of the regiment 
Kutiizov had reviewed at Braunau and in which 
D61okhovwas serving as a private. But the com- 
mand of the extreme left flank had been as- 
signed to the commander of the Pdvlograd regi- 
ment in which Rost6v was serving, and a mis- 
understanding arose. The two commanders 
were much exasperated with one another and, 
long after the action had begun on the right 
flank and the French were already advancing, 
were engaged in discussion with the sole ob- 
ject of offending one another. But the regi- 
ments, both cavalry and infantry, were by no 
means ready for the impending action. From 
privates to general they were not expecting a 
battle and were engaged in peaceful occupa- 
tions, the cavalry feeding the horses and the 
infantry collecting wood. 

"He higher iss dan I in rank," said the Ger- 
man colonel of the hussars, flushing and ad- 
dressing an adjutant who had ridden up, "so let 
him do vhat he vill, but I cannot sacrifice my 
hussars . . . Bugler, sount ze retreat!" 

But haste was becoming imperative. Cannon 
and musketry, mingling together, thundered 
on the right and in the center, while the ca- 
potes of Lannes' sharpshooters were already 
seen crossing the milldamand forming up with- 
in twice the range of a musket shot. The gen- 
eral in command of the infantry went toward 
his horse with jerky steps, and having mounted 
drew himself up very straight and tall and rode 
to the Piivlograd commander. The command- 
ers met with polite bows but with secret malev- 
olence in their hearts. 

"Once again, Colonel," said the general, "I 
can't leave half my men in the wood. I beg of 
you, I beg of you," he repeated, "to occupy the 
position and prepare for an attack." 

"I peg of you yourself not to mix in vot is 
not your pusiness!" suddenly replied the irate 
colonel. "If you vere in the cavalry . . ." 

"I am not in the cavalry, Colonel, but I am a 
Russian general and if you are not aware of 
the fact . . ." 

"Quite avare, your excellency," suddenly 
shouted the colonel, touching his horse and 
turning purple in the face. "Vill you be so goot 
to come to ze front and see dat zis position iss 
no goot? I don't vish to desstroy my men for 
your pleasurel" 

"You forget yourself, Colonel. I am not 
considering my own pleasure and I won't 



allow it to be said I" 

Taking the colonel's outburst as a challenge 
to his courage, the general expanded his chest 
and rode, frowning, beside him to the front 
line, as if their differences would be settled 
there amongst the bullets. They reached the 
front, several bullets sped over them, and they 
halted in silence. There was nothing fresh to 
be seen from the line, for from where they had 
been before it had been evident that it was im- 
possible for cavalry to act among the bushes 
and broken ground, as well as that the French 
were outflanking our left. Thegeneral and colo- 
nel looked sternly and significantly at one an- 
other like two fighting cocks preparing for bat- 
tle, each vainly trying to detect signs of coward- 
ice in the other. Both passed the examination 
successfully. As there was nothing to be said, and 
neither wished to give occasion for it to be al- 
leged that he had been the first to leave the 
range of fire, they would have remained there 
for a long time testing each other's courage 
had it not been that just then they heard the 
rattle of musketry and a muffled shout almost 
behind them in the wood. The French had at- 
tacked the men collecting wood in the copse. It 
was no longer possible for the hussars to re- 
treat with the infantry. They were cut off from 
the line of retreat on the left by the French. 
However inconvenient the position, it was now 
necessary to attack in order to cut away through 
for themselves. 

The squadron in which Rost6v was serving 
had scarcely time to mount before it was halted 
facing the enemy. Again, as at the Enns bridge, 
there was nothing between the squadron and 
the enemy, and again that terrible dividing 
line of uncertainty and fearresembling the 
line separating the living from the dead lay 
between them. All were conscious of this un- 
seen line, and the question whether they would 
cross it or not, and how they would cross it, 
agitated them all. 

The colonel rode to the front, angrily gave 
some reply to questions put to him by the of- 
ficers, and, like a man desperately insisting on 
having his own way, gave an order. No one 
said anything definite, but the rumor of an at- 
tack spread through the squadron. The com- 
mand to form up rang out and the sabers 
whizzed as they were drawn from their scab- 
bards. Still no one moved. The troops of 
the left flank, infantry and hussars alike, felt 
that the commander did not himself know 
what to do, and this irresolution communi- 
cated itself to the men. 



BOOK TWO 



103 



"If only they would be quick!" thought Ros- 
t6v, feeling that at last the time had come to 
experience the joy of an attack of which he had 
so often heard from his fellow hussars. 

"Fo'ward, with God, lads!" rang out Denf- 
sov's voice. "At a twot fo'wardl" 

The horses' croups began to sway in the front 
line. Rook pulled at the reins and started of 
his own accord. 

Before him, on the right, Rost6v saw the 
front lines of his hussars and still farther ahead 
a dark line which he could not see distinctly 
but took to be the enemy. Shots could be heard, 
but some way off. 

"Faster!" came the word of command, and 
Rost6v felt Rook's flanks drooping as he broke 
into a gallop. 

Rost6v anticipated his horse's movements 
and became more and more elated. He had 
noticed a solitary tree ahead of him. This tree 
had been in the middle of the line that had 
seemed so terrible and now he had crossed 
that line and not only was there nothing ter- 
rible, but everything was becoming more and 
more happy and animated. "Oh, how I will 
slash at him!" thought Rost6v, gripping the 
hilt of his saber. 

"Hur-a-a-a-ah!" came a roar of voices. "Let 
anyone come my way now," thought Rost6v 
driving his spurs into Rook and letting him go 
at a full gallop so that he outstripped the oth- 
ers. Ahead, the enemy was already visible. Sud- 
denly something like a birch broom seemed to 
sweep over the squadron. Rost6v raised his sa- 
ber, ready to strike, but at that instant the 
trooper Nikitenko, who was galloping ahead, 
shot away from him, and Rost6v felt as in a 
dream that he continued to be carried forward 
with unnatural speed but yet stayed on the 
same spot. From behind him Bondarchuk, an 
hussar he knew, jolted against him and looked 
angrily at him. Bondarchiik's horse swerved 
and galloped past. 

"How is it I am not moving? I have fallen, I 
am killed!" Rost6v asked and answered at the 
same instant. He was alone in the middle of a 
field. Instead of the moving horses and hussars' 
backs, he saw nothing before him but the mo- 
tionless earth and the stubble around him. 
There was warm blood under his arm. "No, I 
am wounded and the horse is killed." Rook 
tried to rise on his forelegs but fell back, pin- 
ning his rider's leg. Blood was flowing from his 
head; he struggled but could not rise. Rost6v 
also tried to rise but fell back, his sabretache 
having become entangled in the saddle. Where 



our men were, and where the French, he did 
not know. There was no one near. 

Havingdisentangledhisleg,herose. "Where, 
on which side, was now the line that had so 
sharply divided the two armies?" he asked him- 
self and could not answer. "Can something 
bad have happened to me?" he wondered as he 
got up: and at that moment he felt that some- 
thing superfluous was hangingon his benumbed 
left arm. The wrist felt as if it were not his. He 
examined his hand carefully, vainly trying to 
find blood on it. "Ah, here are people com- 
ing," he thought joyfully, seeing some men run- 
ning toward him. "They will help me!" In 
front came a man wearing a strange shako and 
a blue cloak, swarthy, sunburned, and with a 
hooked nose. Then came two more, and many 
more running behind. One of them said some- 
thing strange, not in Russian. In among the 
hindmost of these men wearing similar shakos 
was a Russian hussar. He was being held by 
the arms and his horse was being led behind 
him. 

"It must be one of ours, a prisoner. Yes. Can 
it be that they will take me too? Who are these 
men?" thought Rost6v, scarcely believing his 
eyes. "Can they be French?" He looked at the 
approaching Frenchmen, and though but a 
moment before he had been galloping to get at 
them and hack them to pieces, their proximity 
now seemed so awful that he could not believe 
his eyes. "Who are they? Why are they run- 
ning? Can they be coming at me? And why? To 
kill me? Me whom everyone is so fond of?" He 
remembered his mother's love for him, and his 
family's, and his friends', and the enemy's in- 
tention to kill him seemed impossible. "But 
perhaps they may do it!" For more than ten 
seconds he stood not moving from the spot or 
realizing the situation. The foremost French- 
man, the one with the hooked nose, was al- 
ready so close that the expression of his face 
could be seen. And the excited, alien face of 
that man, his bayonet hanging down, holding 
his breath, and running so lightly, frightened 
Rost6v. He seized his pistol and, instead of fir- 
ing it, flung it at the Frenchman and ran with 
all his might toward the bushes. He did not 
now run with the feeling of doubt and conflict 
with which he had trodden the Enns bridge, 
but with the feeling of a hare fleeing from the 
hounds. One single sentiment, that of fear for 
his young and happy life, possessed his whole 
being. Rapidly leaping the furrows, he fled 
across the field with the impetuosity he used to 
show at catchplay, now and then turning his 



104 



WAR AND PEACE 



good-natured, pale, young face to look back. A 
shudder of terror went through him: "No, bet- 
ter not look," he thought, but having reached 
the bushes he glanced round once more. The 
French had fallen behind, and just as he looked 
round the first man changed his run to a walk 
and, turning, shouted something loudly to a 
comrade farther back. Rost6v paused. "No, 
there's some mistake," thought he. "They can't 
have wanted to kill me." But at the same time, 
his left arm felt as heavy as if a seventy-pound 
weight were tied to it. He could run no more. 
The Frenchman also stopped and took aim. 
Rost6v closed his eyes and stooped down. One 
bullet and then another whistled past him. He 
mustered his last remaining strength, took hold 
of his left hand with his right, and reached the 
bushes. Behind these were some Russian sharp- 
shooters. 

CHAPTER XX 

THE INFANTRY regiments that had been caught 
unawares in the outskirts of the wood ran out 
of it, the different companies getting mixed, 
and retreated as a disorderly crowd. One sol- 
dier, in his fear, uttered the senseless cry, "Cut 
off!" that is so terrible in battle, and that word 
infected the whole crowd with a feeling of 
panic. 

"Surrounded! Cut off! We're lost!" shouted 
the fugitives. 

The moment he heard the firing and the cry 
from behind, the general realized that some- 
thing dreadful had happened to his regiment, 
and the thought that he, an exemplary officer 
of many years' service who had never been to 
blame, might be held responsible at headquar- 
ters for negligence or inefficiency so staggered 
him that, forgetting the recalcitrant cavalry 
colonel, his own dignity as a general, and above 
all quite forgetting the danger and all regard 
for self-preservation, he clutched the crupper 
of his saddle and, spurring his horse, galloped 
to the regiment under a hail of bullets which 
fell around, but fortunately missed him. His 
one desire was to know what was happening 
and at any cost correct, or remedy, the mistake 
if he had made one, so that he, an exemplary 
officer of twenty-two years' service, who had 
never been censured, should not be held to 
blame. 

Having galloped safely through the French, 
he reached afield behind the copse across which 
our men, regardless of orders, were running 
and descending the valley. That moment of 
moral hesitation which decides the fate of bat- 



tles had arrived. Would this disorderly crowd 
of soldiers attend to the voice of their command- 
er, or would they, disregarding him, continue 
their flight? Despite his desperate shouts that 
used to seem so terrible to the soldiers, despite 
his furious purple countenance distorted out 
of all likeness to his former self, and the flour- 
ishing of his saber, the soldiers all continued to 
run, talking, firing into the air, and disobeying 
orders. The moral hesitation which decided the 
fate of battles was evidently culminating in a 
panic. 

The general had a fit of coughing as a result 
of shouting and of the powder smoke and 
stopped in despair. Everything seemed lost. But 
at that moment the French who were attack- 
ing, suddenly and without any apparent rea- 
son, ran back and disappeared from the out- 
skirts, and Russian sharpshooters showed them- 
selves in the copse. It was Tim6khin's com- 
pany, which alone had maintained its order in 
the wood and, having lain in ambush in a 
ditch, now attacked the French unexpectedly. 
Tim6khin, armed only with a sword, had rushed 
at the enemy with such a desperate cry and such 
mad, drunken determination that, taken by 
surprise, the French had thrown down their 
muskets and run. D61okhov, running beside 
Timtikhin, killed a Frenchman at close quar- 
ters and was the first to seize the surrendering 
French officer by his collar. Our fugitives re- 
turned, the battalions re-formed, and the 
French who had nearly cut our left flank in 
half were for the moment repulsed. Our re- 
serve units were able to join up, and the fight 
was at an end. The regimental commander 
and Major Ekon6mov had stopped beside a 
bridge, letting the retreating companies pass 
by them, when a soldier came up and took hold 
of the commander's stirrup, almost leaning' 
against him. The man was wearing a bluish 
coat of broadcloth, he had no knapsack or cap, 
his head was bandaged, and over his shoulder a 
French munition pouch was slung. He had an 
officer's sword in his hand. The soldier was 
pale, his blue eyes looked impudently into the 
commander's face, and his lips were smiling. 
Though the commander was occupied in giv- 
ing instructions to Major Ekon6mov, he could 
not help taking notice of the soldier. 

"Your excellency, here are two trophies," 
said Ddlokhov, pointing to the French sword 
and pouch. "I have taken an officer prisoner. 1 
stopped the company." D61okhov breathed 
heavily from weariness and spoke in abrupt 
sentences. "The whole company can bear wit- 



BOOK TWO 



105 



ness. I beg you will remember this, your excel- 
lency!" 

"All right, all right," replied the command- 
er, and turned to Major Ekon6mov. 

But D61okhov did not go away; he untied 
the handkerchief around his head, pulled it 
off, and showed the blood congealed on his 
hair. 

"A bayonet wound. I remained at the front. 
Remember, your excellency!" 

Tushin's battery had been forgotten and on- 
ly at the very end of the action did Prince Ba- 
gration, still hearing the cannonade in the cen- 
ter, send his orderly staff officer, and later 
Prince Andrew also, to order the battery to re- 
tire as quickly as possible. When the supports 
attached to Tushin's battery had been moved 
away in the middle of the action by someone's 
order, the battery had continued firing and 
was only not captured by the French because 
the enemy could not surmise that anyone could 
have the effrontery to continue firing from 
four quite undefended guns. On the contrary, 
the energetic action of that battery led the 
French to suppose that here in the center 
the main Russian forces were concentrated. 
Twice they had attempted to attack this point, 
but on each occastion had been driven back by 
grapeshot from the four isolated guns on the 
hillock. 

Soon after Prince Bagrati6n had left him, 
Tushin had succeeded in setting fire to Schon 
Grabern. 

"Look at them scurrying! It's burning! Just 
see the smoke! Fine! Grand! Look at the smoke, 
the smoke! "exclaimed the artillerymen, bright- 
ening up. 

All the guns, without waiting for orders, 
were being fired in the direction of the confla- 
gration. As if urging each other on, the soldiers 
cried at each shot: "Fine! That's good! Look at 
it ... Grand!" The fire, fanned by the breeze, 
was rapidly spreading. The French columns 
that had advanced beyond the village went 
back; but as though in revenge for this failure, 
the enemy placed ten guns to the right of the 
village and began firing them at Tiishin's bat- 
tery. 

In their childlike glee, aroused by the fire 
and their luck in successfully cannonading the 
French, our artillerymen only noticed this bat- 
tery when two balls, and then four more, fell 
among our guns, one knocking over two horses 
and another tearing off a munition-wagon driv- 
er's leg. Their spirits once roused were, how- 



ever, not diminished, but only changed char- 
acter. The horses were replaced by others from 
a reserve gun carriage, the wounded were car- 
ried away, and the four guns were turned 
against the ten-gun battery. Tushin's compan- 
ion officer had been killed at the beginning of 
the engagement and within an hour seventeen 
of the forty men of the guns' crews had been 
disabled, but the artillerymen were still as 
merry and lively as ever. Twice they noticed 
the French appearing below them, and then 
they fired grapeshot at them. 

Little Tushin, moving feebly and awkward- 
ly, kept telling his orderly to "refill my pipe for 
that one!" and then, scattering sparks from it, 
ran forward shading his eyes with his small 
hand to look at the French. 

"Smack at 'em, lads!" he kept saying, seizing 
the guns by the wheels and working the screws 
himself. 

Amid the smoke, deafened by the incessant 
reports which always made him jump, Tushin 
not taking his pipe from his mouth ran from 
gun to gun, now aiming, now counting the 
charges, now giving orders about replacing 
dead or wounded horses and harnessing fresh 
ones, and shouting in his feeble voice, so high- 
pitched and irresolute. His face grew more and 
more animated. Only when a man was killed 
or wounded did he frown and turn away from 
the sight, shouting angrily at the men who, as 
is always the case, hesitated about lifting the 
injured or dead. The soldiers, for the most part 
handsome fellows and, as is always the case in 
an artillery company, a head and shoulders 
taller and twice as broad as their officer all 
looked at their commander like children in an 
embarrassing situation, and the expression on 
his face was invariably reflected on theirs. 

Owing to the terrible uproar and the neces- 
sity for concentration and activity, Tushin did 
not experience the slightest unpleasant sense 
of fear, and the thought that he might be killed 
or badly wounded never occurred to him. On 
the contrary, he became more and more elated. 
It seemed to him that it was a very long time 
ago, almost a day, since he had first seen the 
enemy and fired the first shot, and that the 
corner of the field he stood on was well-known 
and familiar ground. Though he thought of 
everything, considered everything, and did 
everything the best of officers could do in his 
position, he was in a state akin to feverish de- 
lirium or drunkenness. 

From the deafening sounds of his own guns 
around him, the whistle and thud of the 



io6 



WAR AND PEACE 



enemy's cannon balls, from the flushed and 
perspiring faces of the crew bustling round the 
guns, from the sight of the blood of men and 
horses, from the little puffs of smoke on the en- 
emy's side (always followed by a ball flying past 
and striking the earth, a man, a gun, a horse), 
from the sight of all these things a fantastic 
world of his own had taken possession of his 
brain and at that moment afforded him pleas- 
ure. The enemy's guns were in his fancy not 
guns but pipes from which occasional puffs 
were blown by an invisible smoker. 

"There . . . he's puffing again," muttered 
Tushin to himself, as a small cloud rose from 
the hill and was borne in a streak to the left 
by the wind. 

"Now look out for the ball . . . we'll throw it 
back/' 

"What do you want, your honor?" asked an 
artilleryman, standing close by, who heard him 
muttering. 

"Nothing . . . only a shell . . ." he answered. 

"Come along, our Matve*vna!" he said to 
himself. "Matvdvna" * was the name his fancy 
gave to the farthest gun of the battery, which was 
large and of an old pattern. The French swarm- 
ing round their guns seemed to him like ants. 
In that world, the handsome drunkard Num- 
ber One of the second gun's crew was "uncle"; 
Tushin looked at him more often than at any- 
one else and took delight in his every move- 
ment. The sound of musketry at the foot of the 
hill, now diminishing, now increasing, seemed 
like someone's breathing. He listened intently 
to the ebb and flow of these sounds. 

"Ah! Breathing again, breathingl" he mut- 
tered to himself. 

He imagined himself as an enormously tall, 
powerful man who was throwing cannon balls 
at the French with both hands. 

"Now then, Matvvna, dear old lady, don't 
let me downl" he was saying as he moved from 
the gun, when a strange, unfamiliar voice called 
above his head: "Captain Tushin! Captain!" 

Tushin turned round in dismay. It was the 
staff officer who had turned him out of the 
booth at Grunth. He was shouting in a gasping 
voice: 

"Are you mad? You have twice been ordered 
to retreat, and you . . ." 

"Why are they down on me?" thought Tu- 
shin, looking in alarm at his superior. 

"I ... don't . . ." he muttered, holding up 
two fingers to his cap. "I . . ." 

But the staff officer did not finish what he 

1 Daughter of Mathcw. 



wanted to say. A cannon ball, flying close to 
him, caused him to duck and bend over his 
horse. He paused, and just as he was about to 
say something more, another ball stopped him. 
He turned his horse and galloped off. 

"Retire! All to retire!" he shouted from a 
distance. 

The soldiers laughed. A moment later, an 
adjutant arrived with the same order. 

It was Prince Andrew. The first thing he saw 
on riding up to the space where Tushin's guns 
were stationed was an unharnessed horse with 
a broken leg, that lay screaming piteously be- 
side the harnessed horses. Blood was gushing 
from its leg as from a spring. Among the lim- 
bers lay several dead men. One ball after an- 
other passed over as he approached and he felt 
a nervous shudder run down his spine. But the 
mere thought of being afraid roused him 
again. "I cannot be afraid," thought he, and dis- 
mounted slowly among the guns. He delivered 
the order and did not leave the battery. He de- 
cided to have the guns removed from their 
positions and withdrawn in his presence. To- 
gether with Tushin, stepping across the bodies 
and under a terrible fire from the French, he 
attended to the removal of the guns. 

"A staff officer was here a minute ago, but 
skipped off," said an artilleryman to Prince 
Andrew. "Not like your honor!" 

Prince Andrew said nothing to Tushin. They 
were both so busy as to seem not to notice one 
another. When having limbered up the only 
two cannon that remained uninjured out of 
the four, they began moving down the hill 
(one shattered gun and one unicorn were left 
behind), Prince Andrew rode up to Tushin. 

"Well, till we meet again . . ." he said, hold- 
ing out his hand to Tushin. 

"Good-by, my dear fellow/' said Tiishin. 
"Dear soul! Good-by, my dear fellow!" and for 
some unknown reason tears suddenly filled his 
eyes. 

CHAPTER XXI 

THE WIND had fallen and black clouds, merg- 
ing with the powder smoke, hung low over the 
field of battle on the horizon. It was growing 
dark and the glow of two conflagrations was 
the more conspicuous. The cannonade was dy- 
ing down, but the rattle of musketry behind 
and on the right sounded oftener and nearer. 
As soon as Tushin with his guns, continually 
driving round or coming upon wounded men, 
was out of range of fire and had descended in- 
to the dip, he was met by some of the staff, 



BOOK TWO 



107 



among them the staff officer and Zherk6v, who 
had been twice sent to Tiishin's battery but 
had never reached it. Interrupting one anoth- 
er, they all gave, and transmitted, orders as to 
how to proceed, reprimanding and reproach- 
ing him. Tushin gave no orders, and silently 
fearing to speak because at every word he felt 
ready to weep without knowing why rode be- 
hind on his artillery nag. Though the orders 
were to abandon the wounded, many of them 
dragged themselves after the troops and begged 
for seats on the gun carriages. The jaunty in- 
fantry officer who just before the battle had 
rushed out of Tushin's wattle shed was laid, 
with a bullet in his stomach, on "Matvc*vna's" 
carriage. At the foot of the hill, a pale hussar 
cadet, supporting one hand with the other, came 
up to Tushin and asked for a seat. 

"Captain, for God's sake! I've hurt my arm," 
he said timidly. "For God's sake ... I can't 
walk. For God's sakel" 

It was plain that this cadet had already re- 
peatedly asked for a lift and been refused. He 
asked in a hesitating, piteous voice. 

"Tell them to give me a seat, for God's sakel" 

"Give him a seat," said Tushin. "Lay a cloak 
for him to sit on, lad," he said, addressing his 
favorite soldier. "And where is the wounded 
officer?" 

"He has been set down. He died," replied 
someone. 

"Help him up. Sit down, dear fellow, sit 
down I Spread out the cloak, Antonov." 

The cadet was Rost6v. With one hand he 
supported the other; he was pale and his jaw 
trembled, shivering feverishly. He was placed 
on "Matvvna," the gun from which they had 
removed the dead officer. The cloak they spread 
under him was wet with blood which stained 
his breeches and arm. 

"What, are you wounded, my lad?" said Tu- 
shin, approaching the gun on which Rost6v sat. 

"No, it's a sprain." 

"Then what is this blood on the gun car- 
riage?" inquired Tushin. 

"It was the officer, your honor, stained it," 
answered the artilleryman, wiping away the 
blood with his coat sleeve, as if apologizing for 
the state of his gun. 

It was all that they could do to get the guns 
up the rise aided by the infantry, and having 
reached the village of Gruntersdorf they halted. 
It had grown so dark that one could not dis- 
tinguish the uniforms ten paces off, and the 
firing had begun to subside. Suddenly, near by 
on the right, shouting and firing were again 



heard. Flashes of shot gleamed in the darkness. 
This was the last French attack and was met by 
soldiers who had sheltered in the village houses. 
They all rushed out of the village again, but 
Tushin's guns could not move, and the artil- 
lerymen, Tushin, and the cadet exchanged si- 
lent glances as they awaited their fate. The fir- 
ing died down and soldiers, talking eagerly, 
streamed out of a side street. 

"Not hurt, Pctr6v?" asked one. 

"We've given it 'em hot, mate! They won't 
make another push now," said another. 

"You couldn't see a thing. How they shot at 
their own fellows! Nothing could be seen. 
Pitch-dark, brother! Isn't there something to 
drink?" 

The French had been repulsed for the last 
time. And again and again in the complete 
darkness Tushin's guns moved forward, sur- 
rounded by the humming infantry as by a 
frame. 

In the darkness, it seemed as though a gloomy 
unseen river was flowing always in one direc- 
tion, humming with whispers and talk and the 
sound of hoofs and wheels. Amid the general 
rumble, the groans and voices of the wounded 
were more distinctly heard than any other 
sound in the darkness of the night. The gloom 
that enveloped the army was filled with their 
groans, which seemed to melt into one with the 
darkness of the night. After a while the mov- 
ing mass became agitated, someone rode past 
on a white horse followed by his suite, and 
said something in passing: "What did he say? 
Where to, now? Halt, is it? Did he thank us?" 
came eager questions from all sides. The whole 
moving mass began pressing closer together 
and a report spread that they were ordered to 
halt: evidently those in front had halted. All 
remained where they were in the middle of the 
muddy road. 

Fires were lighted and the talk became more 
audible. Captain Tushin, having given orders 
to his company, sent a soldier to find a dressing 
station or a doctor for the cadet, and sat down 
by a bonfire the soldiers had kindled on the 
road. Rost6v, too, dragged himself to the fire. 
From pain, cold, and damp, a feverish shiver- 
ing shook his whole body. Drowsiness was ir- 
resistibly mastering him, but he was keptawake 
by an excruciating pain in his arm, for which 
he could find no satisfactory position. He kept 
closing his eyes and then again looking at the 
fire, which seemed to him dazzlingly red, and 
at the feeble, round-shouldered figure of Tu- 
shin who was sitting cross-legged like a Turk 



io8 



WAR AND PEACE 



beside him. Ttishin's large, kind, intelligent 
eyes were fixed with sympathy and commisera- 
tion on Rost6v, who saw that Tushin with his 
whole heart wished to help him but could not. 

From all sides were heard the footsteps and 
talk of the infantry, who were walking, driv- 
ing past, and settling down all around. The 
sound of voices, the tramping feet, the horses' 
hoofs moving in mud, the crackling of wood 
fires near and afar, merged into one tremu- 
lous rumble. 

It was no longer, as before, a dark, unseen 
river flowing through the gloom, but a dark 
sea swelling and gradually subsiding after a 
storm. Rost6v looked at and listened listlessly 
to what passed before and around him. An in- 
fantryman came to the fire, squatted on his 
heels, held his hands to the blaze, and turned 
away his face. 

"You don't mind, your honor?" he asked Tu- 
shin. "I've lost my company, your honor. I 
don't know where . . . such bad luck!" 

With the soldier, an infantry officer with a 
bandaged cheek came up to the bonfire, and 
addressing Tushin asked him to have the guns 
moved a trifle to let a wagon go past. After he 
had gone, two soldiers rushed to the campfire. 
They were quarreling and fighting desperately, 
each trying to snatch from the other a boot 
they were both holding on to. 

"You picked it up? ... I dare say! You're 
very smart!" one of them shouted hoarsely. 

Then a thin, pale soldier, his neck band- 
aged with a bloodstained leg band, came up 
and in angry tones asked the artillerymen for 
water. 

"Must one die like a dog?" said he. 

Tushin told them to give the man some wa- 
ter. Then a cheerful soldier ran up, begging a 
little fire for the infantry. 

"A nice little hot torch for the infantry! 
Good luck to you, fellow countrymen. Thanks 
for the firewe'll return it with interest," said 
he, carrying away into the darkness a glowing 
stick. 

Next came four soldiers, carrying something 
heavy on a cloak, and passed by the fire. One 
of them stumbled. 

"Who the devil has put the logs on the 
road?" snarled he. 

"He's deadwhy carry him?" said another. 

"Shut up!" 

And they disappeared into the darkness with 
their load. 

"Still aching?" Tiishin asked Rost6v in a 
whisper. 



"Yes." 

"Your honor, you're wanted by the general. 
He is in the hut here," said a gunner, coming 
up to Tushin. 

"Coming, friend." 

Tushin rose and, buttoning his greatcoat 
and pulling it straight, walked away from the 
fire. 

Not far from the artillery campfire, in a hut 
that had been prepared for him, Prince Bagra- 
ti6n sat at dinner, talkingwith some command- 
ing officers who had gathered at his quarters. 
The little old man with the half-closed eyes 
was there greedily gnawing a mutton bone, and 
the general who had served blamelessly for 
twenty- two years, flushed by a glass of vodka 
and the dinner; and the staff officer with the 
signet ring, and Zhcrk6v, uneasily glancing at 
them all, and Prince Andrew, pale, with com- 
pressed lips and feverishly glittering eyes. 

In a corner of the hut stood a standard cap- 
tured from the French, and theaccountantwith 
the nai've face was feeling its texture, shaking 
his head in perplexity perhaps because the 
banner really interested him, perhaps because 
it was hard for him, hungry as he was, to look 
on at a dinner where there was no place for 
him. In the next hut there was a French colonel 
who had been taken prisoner by our dragoons. 
Our officers were flocking in to look at him. 
Prince Bagrati6n was thanking the individual 
commanders and inquiring into details of the 
action and our losses. The general whose regi- 
ment had been inspected at Braunau was in- 
forming the prince that as soon as the action 
began he had withdrawn from the wood, mus- 
tered the men who were woodcutting, and, al- 
lowing the French to pass him, had made a 
bayonet charge with two battalions and had 
broken up the French troops. 

"When I saw, your excellency, that their first 
battalion was disorganized, I stopped in the 
road and thought: 'I'll let them come on and 
will meet them with the fire of the whole bat- 
talion' and that's what I did." 

The general had so wished to do this and 
was so sorry he had not managed to do it that 
it seemed to him as if it had really happened. 
Perhaps it might really have been so? Could 
one possibly make out amid all that confusion 
what did or did not happen? 

"By the way, your excellency, I should inform 
you," he continued remembering D61okhov's 
conversation with Kutuzov and his last inter- 
view with the gentleman-ranker "that Private 
D61okhov, who was reduced to the ranks, took 



BOOK 

a French officer prisoner in my presence and 
particularly distinguished himself/' 

"I saw the Pdvlograd hussars attack there, 
your excellency," chimed in Zherk6v, looking 
uneasily around. He had not seen the hussars 
all that day, but had heard about them from an 
infantry officer. "They broke up two squares, 
your excellency/' 

Several of those present smiled at Zherk6v's 
words, expecting one of his usual jokes, but 
noticing that what he was saying redounded to 
the glory of our arms and of the day's work, 
they assumed a serious expression, though 
many of them knew that what he was saying 
was a lie devoid of any foundation. Prince Ba- 
grati6n turned to the old colonel: 

"Gentlemen, I thank you all; all arms have 
behaved heroically: infantry, cavalry, and ar- 
tillery. How was it that two guns were aban- 
doned in the center?" he inquired, searching 
with his eyes for someone. (Prince Bagrati6n 
did not ask about the guns on the left flank; he 
knew that all the guns there had been aban- 
doned at the very beginning of the action.) "I 
think I sent you?" he added, turning to the 
staff officer on duty. 

"One was damaged," answered the staff offi- 
cer, "and the other I can't understand. I was 
there all the time giving orders and had only 

just left It is true that it was hot there," he 

added, modestly. 

Someone mentioned that Captain Tushin 
was bivouacking close to the village and had al- 
ready been sent for. 

"Oh, but you were there?" said Prince Bagra- 
tion, addressing Prince Andrew. 

"Of course, weonly just missed one another," 
said the staff officer, with a smile to Bolk6nski. 

"I had not the pleasure of seeing you," said 
Prince Andrew, coldly and abruptly. 

All were silent. Tushin appeared at the 
threshold and made his way timidly from be- 
hind the backs of the generals. As he stepped 
past the generals in the crowded hut, feeling 
embarrassed as he always was by the sight of his 
superiors, he did not notice the staff of the 
banner and stumbled over it. Several of those 
present laughed. 

"How was it a gun was abandoned?" asked 
Bagrati6n, frowning, not so much at the cap- 
tain as at those who were laughing, among 
whom Zherk6v laughed loudest. 

Only now, when he was confronted by the 
stern authorities, did his guilt and the disgrace 
of having lost two guns and yet remaining alive 
present themselves to Tushin in all their hor- 



TWO 109 

ror. He had been so excited that he had not 
thought about it until that moment. The offi- 
cers' laughter confused himstill more. Hestood 
before Bagrati6n with his lower jaw trembling 
and was hardly able to mutter: "I don't know 
. . . your excellency ... I had no men . . . your 
excellency." 

"You might have taken some from the cov- 
ering troops." 

Tushin did not say that there were no cov- 
ering troops, though that was perfectly true. 
He was afraid of getting some other officer in- 
to trouble, and silently fixed his eyes on Ba- 
grati6n as a schoolboy who has blundered looks 
at an examiner. 

The silence lasted some time. Prince Bagra- 
ti6n, apparently not wishing to be severe, found 
nothing to say; the others did not venture to 
intervene. Prince Andrew looked at Tushin 
from under his brows and his fingers twitched 
nervously. 

"Your excellency!" Prince Andrew broke the 
silence with his abrupt voice, "you were pleased 
to send me to Captain Tiishin's battery. I went 
there and found two thirds of the men and 
horses knocked out, two guns smashed, and no 
supports at all." 

Prince Bagrati6n and Tushin looked with 
equal intentness at Bolk6nski, who spoke with 
suppressed agitation. 

"And, if your excellency will allow me to 
express my opinion," he continued, "we owe 
today's success chiefly to the action of that bat- 
tery and the heroic endurance of Captain Tu- 
shin and his company," and without awaiting 
a reply, Prince Andrew rose and left the table. 

Prince Bagrati6n looked at Tushin, evident- 
ly reluctant to show distrust in Bolk6nski's em- 
phatic opinion yet not feeling able fully to 
credit it, bent his head, and told Tushin that 
he could go. Prince Andrew went out with him. 

"Thank you; you saved me, my dear fellowl" 
said Tushin. 

Prince Andrew gave him a look, but said 
nothing and went away. He felt sad and de- 
pressed. It was all so strange, so unlike what 
he had hoped. 

"Who are they? Why are they here? What do 
they want? And when will all this end?" 
thought Rostc'w, looking at the changing shad- 
ows before him. The pain in his arm became 
more and more intense. Irresistible drowsiness 
overpowered him, red rings danced before his 
eyes, and the impression of those voices and 
faces and a sense of loneliness merged with the 



no 

physical pain. It was they, these soldiers- 
wounded and unwounded it was they who 
were crushing, weighing down, and twisting 
the sinews and scorching the flesh of his 
sprained arm and shoulder. To rid himself of 
them, he closed his eyes. 

For a moment he dozed, but in that short in- 
terval innumerable things appeared to him in 
a dream: his mother and her large white hand, 
S6nya's thin little shoulders, Natasha's eyes and 
laughter, Denfsovwith his voice and mustache, 
and Telyaninand all that affair with Telydnin 
and Bogdnich. That affair was the same thing 
as this soldier with the harsh voice, and it was 
that affair and this soldier that were so agoniz- 
ingly, incessantly pulling and pressing his arm 
and always dragging it in one direction. He 
tried to get away from them, but they would 
not for an instant let his shoulder move a hair's 
breadth. It would not acheit would be well 
if only they did not pull it, but it was impossible 
to get rid of them. 

He opened his eyes and looked up. The 
black canopy of night hung less than a yard 
above the glow of the charcoal. Flakes of fall- 



WAR AND PEACE 



ing snow were fluttering in that light. Tushin 
had not returned, the doctor had not come. He 
was alone now, except for a soldier who was 
sitting naked at the other side of the fire, warm- 
ing his thin yellow body. 

"Nobody wants me I" thought Rostov. 
"There is no one to help me or pity me. Yet I 
was once at home, strong, happy, and loved." 
He sighed and, doing so, groaned involuntar- 
ily. 

"Eh, is anything hurting you?" asked the sol- 
dier, shaking his shirt out over the fire, and not 
waiting for an answer he gave a grunt and add- 
ed: "What a lot of men have been crippled to- 
day frightful 1" 

Rost6v did not listen to the soldier. He looked 
at the snowflakes fluttering above the fire and 
remembered a Russian winter at his warm, 
bright home, his fluffy fur coat, his quickly 
gliding sleigh, his healthy body, and all the af- 
fection and care of his family. "And why did I 
come here?" he wondered. 

Next day the French army did not renew 
their attack, and the remnant of Bagrati6n's 
detachment was reunited to Kutiizov's army. 



Book Three: 1805 



CHAPTER I 

PRINCE VAS!LI was not a man who deliberately 
thought out his plans. Still less did he think of 
injuring anyone for his own advantage. He was 
merely a man of the world who had got on and 
to whom getting on had become a habit. 
Schemes and devices for which he never right- 
ly accounted to himself, but which formed the 
whole interest of his life, were constantly shap- 
ing themselves in his mind, arising from the 
circumstances and persons he met. Of these 
plans he had not merely one or two in his 
head but dozens, some only beginning to form 
themselves, some approaching achievement, 
and some in course of disintegration. He did 
not, for instance, say to himself: "This man 
now has influence, I must gain his confidence 
and friendship and through him obtain a spe- 
cial grant/' Nor did he say to himself: "Pierre 
is a rich man, I must entice him to marry my 
daughter and lend me the forty thousand ru- 
bles I need." But when he came across a man of 
position his instinct immediately told him that 
this man could be useful, and without any pre- 
meditation Prince Vasili took the first oppor- 
tunity to gain his confidence, flatter him, be- 
come intimate with him, and finally make his 
request. 

He had Pierre at hand in Moscow and pro- 
cured for him an appointment as Gentleman 
of the Bedchamber, which at that time con- 
ferred the status of Councilor of State, and 
insisted on the young man accompanying 
him to Petersburg and staying at his house. 
With apparent absent-mindedness, yet with 
unhesitating assurance that he was doing the 
right thing, Prince Vasili did everything 
to get Pierre to marry his daughter. Had he 
thought out his plans beforehand he could 
not have been so natural and shown such un- 
affected familiarity in intercourse with every- 
body both above and below him in social 
standing. Something always drew him toward 
those richer and more powerful than himself 
and he had rare skill in seizing the most op- 



portune moment for making use of people. 
Pierre, on unexpectedly becoming Count Be- 
ziikhov and a rich man, felt himself after his 
recent loneliness and freedom from cares so be- 
set and preoccupied that only in bed was he 
able to be by himself. He had to sign papers, to 
present himself at government offices, the pur- 
pose of which was not clear to him, to question 
his chief steward, to visit his estate near Mos- 
cow, and to receive many people who formerly 
did not even wish to know of his existence but 
would now have been offended and grieved 
had he chosen not to see them. These differ- 
ent people businessmen, relations, and ac- 
quaintances alike were all disposed to treat 
the young heir in the most friendly and flatter- 
ing manner: they were all evidently firmly con- 
vinced of Pierre's noble qualities. He was 
always hearing such words as: "With your re- 
markable kindness," or, "With your excellent 
heart," "You are yourself so honorable, Count," 
or, "Were he as clever as you," and so on, till 
he began sincerely to believe in his own excep- 
tional kindness and extraordinary intelligence, 
the more so as in the depth of his heart it had 
always seemed to him that he really was very 
kind and intelligent. Even people who had 
formerly been spiteful toward him and evident- 
ly unfriendly now became gentle and affection- 
ate. The angry eldest princess, with the long 
waist and hair plastered down like a doll's, had 
come into Pierre's room after the funeral. With 
drooping eyes and frequent blushes she told 
him she was very sorry about their past misun- 
derstandings and did not now feel she had a 
right to ask him for anything, except only for 
permission, after the blow she had received, to 
remain for a few weeks longer in the house 
she so loved and where she had sacrificed so 
much. She could not refrain from weeping 
at these words. Touched that this statuesque 
princess could so change, Pierre took her 
hand and begged her forgiveness, without 
knowing what for. From that day the eldest 
princess quite changed toward Pierre and 



WAR AND PEACE 



began knitting a striped scarf for him. 

"Do this for my sake, mon cher; after all, she 
had to put up with a great deal from the de- 
ceased," said Prince Vasfli to him, handing him 
a deed to sign for the princess' benefit. 

Prince Vaslli had come to the conclusion 
that it was necessary to throw this bone a bill 
for thirty thousand rubles to the poor prin- 
cess that it might not occur to her to speak of 
his share in the affair of the inlaid portfolio. 
Pierre signed the deed and after that the prin- 
cess grew still kinder. The younger sisters also 
became affectionate to him, especially the 
youngest, the pretty one with the mole, who 
often made him feel confused by her smiles 
and her own confusion when meeting him. 

It seemed so natural to Pierre that everyone 
should like him, and it would have seemed so 
unnatural had anyone disliked him, that he 
could not but believe in the sincerity of those 
around him. Besides, he had no time to ask 
himself whether these people were sincere or 
not. He was always busy and always felt in a 
state of mild and cheerful intoxication. He 
felt as though he were the center of some im- 
portant and general movement; that something 
was constantly expected of him, that if he did 
not do it he would grieve and disappoint many 
people, but if he did this and that, all would 
bewell; and he did what was demanded of him, 
but still that happy result always remained in 
the future. 

More than anyone else, Prince Vasfli took 
possession of Pierre's affairs and of Pierre him- 
self in those early days. From the death of 
Count Bezukhov he did not let go his hold of 
the lad. He had the air of a man oppressed by 
business, weary and suffering, who yet would 
not, for pity's sake, leave this helpless youth 
who, after all, was the son of his old friend and 
the possessor of such enormous wealth, to the 
caprice of fate and the designs of rogues. Dur- 
ing the few days he spent in Moscow after the 
death of Count Bezukhov, he would call Pierre, 
or go to him himself, and tell him what ought 
to be done in a tone of weariness and assurance, 
as if he were adding every time: "You know I 
am overwhelmed with business and it is purely 
out of charity that I trouble myself about you, 
and you also know quite well that what I pro- 
pose is the only thing possible." 

"Well, my dear fellow, tomorrow we are off 
at last," said Prince Vasfli one day, closing his 
eyes and fingering Pierre's elbow, speaking as 
if he were saying something which had long 
since been agreed upon and could not now be 



altered. "We start tomorrow and I'm giving 
you a place in my carriage. I am very glad. All 
our important business here is now settled, and 
I ought to have been off long ago. Here is some- 
thing I have received from the chancellor. I 
asked him for you, and you have been entered 
in the diplomatic corps and made a Gentleman 
of the Bedchamber. The diplomatic career now 
lies open before you." 

Notwithstanding the tone of wearied assur- 
ance with which these words were pronounced, 
Pierre, who had so long been considering his 
career, wished to make some suggestion. But 
Prince Vasili interrupted him in the special 
deep cooing tone, precluding the possibility of 
interrupting his speech, which he used in ex- 
treme cases when special persuasion was need- 
ed. 

"Mais, mon cher, I did this for my own sake, 
to satisfy my conscience, and there is nothing 
to thank me for. No one has ever complained 
yet of being too much loved; and besides, you 
are free, you could throw it up tomorrow. But 
you will see everything for yourself when you 
get to Petersburg. It is high time for you to get 
away from these terrible recollections." Prince 
Vasfli sighed. "Yes, yes, my boy. And my valet 
can go in your carriage. Ah! I was nearly for- 
getting," he added. "You know, mon cher,your 
father and I had some accounts to settle, so I 
have received what was due from the Ryazan 
estate and will keep it; you won't require it. 
We'll go into the accounts later." 

By "what was due from the Ryazan estate" 
Prince Vasfli meant several thousand rubles 
quitrent received from Pierre's peasants, which 
the prince had retained for himself. 

In Petersburg, as in Moscow, Pierre found 
the same atmosphere of gentleness and affec- 
tion. He could not refuse the post, or rather 
the rank (for he did nothing), that Prince Va- 
sfli had procured for him, and acquaintances, 
invitations, and social occupations were so num- 
erous that, even more than in Moscow, he felt 
a sense of bewilderment, bustle, and continual 
expectation of some good, always in front of 
him but never attained. 

Of his former bachelor acquaintances many 
were no longer in Petersburg, The Guards had 
gone to the front; D61okhov had been reduced 
to the ranks; Anatole was in the army some- 
where in the provinces; Prince Andrew was 
abroad; so Pierre had not the opportunity to 
spend his nights as he used to like to spend 
them, or to open his mind by intimate talks 
with a friend older than himself and whom he 



BOOK 

respected. His whole time was taken up with 
dinners and balls and was spent chiefly at 
Prince Vasili's house in the company of the 
stout princess, his wife, and his beautiful daugh- 
ter Hdene. 

Like the others, Anna Pdvlovna Sch^rer 
showed Pierre the change of attitude toward 
him that had taken place in society. 

Formerly in Anna Pdvlovna's presence, 
Pierre had always felt that what he was say- 
ing was out of place, tactless and unsuitable, 
that remarks which seemed to him clever while 
they formed in his mind became foolish as 
soon as he uttered them, while on the contrary 
Hippolyte's stupidest remarks came out clev- 
er and apt. Now everything Pierre said was 
charmant. Even if Anna Pavlovna did not say 
so, he could see that she wished to and only 
refrained out of regard for his modesty. 

In the beginning of the winter of 1805-6 
Pierre received one of Anna Pavlovna's usual 
pink notes with an invitation to which was 
added: "You will find the beautiful Hdlcne 
here, whom it is always delightful to see." 

When he read that sentence, Pierre felt for 
the first time that some link which other peo- 
ple recognized had grown up between himself 
and Hlne, and that thought both alarmed 
him, as if some obligation were being imposed 
on him which he could not fulfill, and pleased 
him as an entertaining supposition. 

Anna Pdvlovna's "At Home" was like the for- 
mer one, only the novelty she offered her guests 
this time was not Mortemart, but a diploma- 
tist fresh from Berlin with the very latest details 
of the Emperor Alexander's visit to Potsdam, 
and of how the two august friends had pledged 
themselves in an indissoluble alliance to up- 
hold the cause of justice against the enemy of 
the human race. Anna Pdvlovna received 
Pierre with a shade of melancholy, evidently 
relating to the young man's recent loss by the 
death of Count Bezukhov (everyone constant- 
ly considered it a duty to assure Pierre that he 
was greatly afflicted by the death of the father 
he had hardly known), and her melancholy was 
just like the august melancholy she showed at 
the mention of her most august Majesty the 
Empress MdryaFedorovna. Pierre felt flattered 
by this. Anna Pdvlovna arranged the different 
groups in her drawing room with her habitual 
skill. The large group, in which were Prince 
Vasili and the generals, had the benefit of the 
diplomat. Another group was at the tea table. 
Pierre wished to join the former, but Anna Pv- 
lovna who was in the excited condition of a 



THREE 113 

commander on a battlefield to whom thousands 
of new and brilliant ideas occur which there is 
hardly time to put in action seeing Pierre, 
touched his sleeve with her finger, saying: 

"Wait a bit, I have something in view for you 
this evening." (She glanced at Hdene and 
smiled at her.) "My dear Hlne, be charitable 
to my poor aunt who adores you. Go and keep 
her company for ten minutes. And that it will 
not be too dull, here is the dear count who will 
not refuse to accompany you." 

The beauty went to the aunt, but Anna Pav- 
lovna detained Pierre, looking as if she had to 
give some final necessary instructions. 

"Isn't she exquisite?" she said to Pierre, 
pointing to the stately beauty as she glided a- 
way."And how she carries herself! Forso young 
a girl, such tact, such masterly perfection of 
manner! It comes from her heart. Happy the 
man who wins her! With her the least worldly 
of men would occupy a most brilliant position 
in society. Don't you think so? I only wanted 
to know your opinion," and Anna Pdvlovna 
let Pierre go. 

Pierre, in reply, sincerely agreed with her as 
to Helene's perfection of manner. If he ever 
thought of H<Hne,itwas just of her beauty and 
her remarkable skill in appearing silently dig- 
nified in society. 

The old aunt received the two young people 
in her corner, but seemed desirous of hiding 
her adoration for Hdlene and inclined rather 
to show her fear of Anna Pdvlovna. She looked 
at her niece, as if inquiring what she was to do 
with these people. On leaving them, Anna Pdv- 
lovna again touched Pierre's sleeve, saying: "I 
hope you won't say that it is dull in my house 
again," and she glanced at HeUene. 

H^lene smiled, with a look implying that 
she did not admit the possibility of anyone see- 
ing her without being enchanted. The aunt 
coughed, swallowed, and said in French that 
she was very pleased to see Hlne, then she 
turned to Pierre with the same words of wel- 
come and the same look. In the middle of a dull 
and halting conversation, Hlene turned to 
Pierre with the beautiful bright smile that 
she gave to everyone. Pierre was so used to 
that smile, and it had so little meaning for him, 
that he paid no attention to it. The aunt was 
just speaking of a collection of snuffboxes that 
had belonged to Pierre's father, Count Be- 
ziikhov, and showed them her own box. Prin- 
cess Hdene asked to see the portrait of the 
aunt's husband on the box lid. 

"That is probably the work of Vinesse," said 



WAR AND PEACE 



Pierre, mentioning a celebrated miniaturist, 
and he leaned over the table to take the snuff- 
box while trying to hear what was being said 
at the other table. 

He half rose, meaning to go round, but the 
aunt handed him the snuff box, passing it across 
Hlne's back. Hlene stooped forward to make 
room, and looked round with a smile. She was, 
as always at evening parties, wearing a dress 
such as was then fashionable, cut very low at 
front and back. Her bust, which had always 
seemed like marble to Pierre, was so close to 
him that his shortsighted eyes could not but 
perceive the living charm of her neck and shoul- 
ders, so near to his lips that he need only have 
bent his head a little to have touched them. He 
was conscious of the warmth of her body, the 
scent of perfume, and the creaking of her cor- 
set as she moved. He did not see her marble 
beauty forming a complete whole with her dress, 
but all the charm of her body only covered by 
her garments. And having once seen this he 
could not help being aware of it, just as we can- 
not renew an illusion we have once seen 
through. 

"So you have never noticed before how beau- 
tiful I am?" Hlene seemed to say. "You had not 
noticed that I am a woman? Yes, I am a wom- 
an who may belong to anyone to you too," 
said her glance. And at that moment Pierre 
felt that Hdene not only could, but must, be 
his wife, and that it could not be otherwise. 

He knew this at that moment as surely as if 
he had been standing at the altar with her. 
How and when this would be he did not know, 
he did not even know if it would be a good 
thing (he even felt, he knew not why, that it 
would be a bad thing), but he knew it would 
happen. 

Pierre dropped his eyes, lifted them again, 
and wished once more to see her as a distant 
beauty far removed from him, as he had seen 
her every day.until then, but he could no long- 
er do it. He could not, any more than a man 
who has been looking at a tuft of steppe grass 
through the mist and taking it for a tree can 
again take it for a tree after he has once recog- 
nized it to be a tuft of grass. She was terribly 
close to him. She already had power over him, 
and between them there was no longer any 
barrier except the barrier of his own will. 

"Well, I will leave you in your little corner," 
came Anna Pdvlovna's voice, "I see you are 
all right there." 

And Pierre, anxiously trying to remember 
whether he had done anything reprehensible, 



looked round with a blush. It seemed to him 
that everyone knew what had happened to him 
as he knew it himself. 

A little later when he went up to the large 
circle, Anna Pdvlovna said to him: "I hear you 
are refitting your Petersburg house?" 

This was true. The architect had told him 
that it was necessary, and Pierre, without know- 
ing why, was having his enormous Petersburg 
house done up. 

"That's a good thing, but don't move from 
Prince Vasfli's. It is good to have a friend like 
the prince," she said, smiling at Prince Vastti. 
"I know something about that. Don't I? And 
you are still so young. You need advice. Don't 
be angry with me for exercising an old woman's 
privilege." 

She paused, as women always do, expecting 
something after they have mentioned their age. 
"If you marry it will be a different thing," she 
continued, uniting them both in one glance. 
Pierre did not look at Hdlene nor she at him. 
But she was just as terribly close to him. He 
muttered something and colored. 

When he got home he could not sleep for a 
long time for thinking of what had happened. 
What had happened? Nothing. He had merely 
understood that the woman he had known as a 
child, of whom when her beauty was mentioned 
he had said absent-mindedly: "Yes, she's good- 
looking," he had understood that this woman 
might belong to him. 

"But she's stupid. I have myself said she is 
stupid," he thought. "There is something nas- 
ty, something wrong, in the feeling she excites 
in me. I have been told that her brother Ana- 
tole was in love with her and she with him, 
that there was quite a scandal and that that's 
why he was sent away. Hippolyte is her 
brother . . . Prince Vastti is her father . . . It's 
bad " he reflected, but while he was think- 
ing this (the reflection was still incomplete), he 
caught himself smiling and was conscious that 
another line of thought had sprung up, and 
while thinking of her worthlessness he was also 
dreaming of how she would be his wife, how 
she would love him and become quite different, 
and how all he had thought and heard of her 
might be false. And he again saw her not as the 
daughter of Prince Vasfli, but visualized her 
whole body only veiled by its gray dress. "But 
no I Why did this thought never occur to me 
before?" and again he told himself that it was 
impossible, that there would be something un- 
natural, and as it seemed to him dishonorable, 
in this marriage. He recalled her former words 



BOOK THREE 



and looks and the words and looks of those who 
had seen them together. He recalled Anna Pdv- 
lovna's words and looks when she spoke to him 
about his house, recalled thousands of such 
hints from Prince Vasili and others, and was 
seized by terror lest he had already, in some 
way, bound himself to do something that was 
evidently wrong and that he ought not to do. 
But at the very time he was expressing this con- 
viction to himself, in another part of his mind 
her image rose in all its womanly beauty. 

CHAPTER II 

IN NOVEMBER, 1805, Prince Vasfli had to go on 
a tour of inspection in four different provinces. 
He had arranged this for himself so as to visit 
his neglected estates at the same time and pick 
up his son Anatole where his regiment was sta- 
tioned, and take him to visit Prince Nicholas 
Bolk6nski in order to arrange a match for him 
with the daughter of that rich old man. But be- 
fore leaving home and undertaking these new 
affairs, Prince Vasili had to settle matters with 
Pierre, who, it is true, had latterly spent whole 
days at home, that is, in Prince Vasfli's house 
where he was staying, and had been absurd, ex- 
cited, and foolish in He*lene's presence (as a 
lover should be), but had not yet proposed to 
her. 

"This is all very fine, but things must be set- 
tled," said Prince Vasili to himself, with a sor- 
rowful sigh, one morning, feeling that Pierre 
who was under such obligations to him ("But 
never mind that") was not behaving very well 
in this matter. "Youth, frivolity . . . well, God 
be with him," thought he, relishing his own 
goodness of heart, "but it must be brought to 
a head. The day after tomorrow will be Lelya's 
name day. I will invite two or three people, 
and if he does not understand what he ought 
to do then it will be my affair yes, my affair. I 
am her father." 

Six weeks after Anna Pavlovna's "At Home" 
and after the sleepless night when he had de- 
cided that to marry He*lene would be a calam- 
ity and that he ought to avoid her and go away, 
Pierre, despite that decision, had not left Prince 
Vasili's and felt with terror that in people's 
eyes he was every day more and more connected 
with her, that it was impossible for him to re- 
turn to his former conception of her, that he 
could not break away from her, and that though 
it would be a terrible thing he would have to 
unite his fate with hers. He might perhaps have 
been able to free himself but that Prince Vasili 
(who had rarely before given receptions) now 



hardly let a day go by without having an even- 
ing party at which Pierre had to be present un- 
less he wished to spoil the general pleasure and 
disappoint everyone's expectation. Prince Va- 
sili, in the rare moments when he was at home, 
would take Pierre's hand in passing and draw 
it downwards, or absent-mindedly hold out 
his wrinkled, clean-shaven cheek for Pierre to 
kiss and would say: "Till tomorrow," or, "Be 
in to dinner or I shall not see you," or, "I am 
staying in for your sake," and so on. And though 
Prince Vasili, when he stayed in (as he said) for 
Pierre's sake, hardly exchanged a couple of 
words with him, Pierre felt unable to disap- 
point him. Every day he said to himself one and 
the same thing: "It is time I understood her 
and made up my mind what she really is. Was 
1 mistaken before, or am I mistaken now? No, 
she is not stupid, she is an excellent girl," he 
sometimes said to himself, "she never makes a 
mistake, never says anything stupid. She says 
little, but what she does say is always clear and 
simple, so she is not stupid. She never was 
abashed and is not abashed now, so she cannot 
be a bad woman!" He had of ten begun to make 
reflections or think aloud in her company, and 
she had always answered him either by a brief 
but appropriate remark showing that it did 
not interest her or by a silent look and smile 
which more palpably than anything else showed 
Pierre her superiority. She was right in regard- 
ing all arguments as nonsense in comparison 
with that smile. 

She always addressed him with a radiantly 
confiding smile meant for him alone, in which 
there was something more significant than in 
the general smile that usually brightened her 
face. Pierre knew that everyone was waiting for 
him to say a word and cross a certain line, and 
he knew that sooner or later he would step 
across it, but an incomprehensible terror seized 
him at the thought of that dreadful step. A 
thousand times during that month and a half 
while he felt himself drawn nearer and nearer 
to that dreadful abyss, Pierre said to himself: 
"What am I doing? I need resolution. Can it 
be that I have none?" 

He wished to take a decision, but felt with 
dismay that in this matter he lacked that 
strength of will which he had known in him- 
self and really possessed. Pierre was one of 
those who are only strong when they feel 
themselves quite innocent, and since that day 
when he was overpowered by a feeling of de- 
sire while stooping over the snuffbox at Anna 
Pavlovna's, an unacknowledged sense of the 



n6 



WAR AND PEACE 



guilt of that desire paralyzed his will. 

On Hlne's name day, a small party of just 
their own people as his wife said met for sup- 
per at Prince Vasili's. All these friends and re- 
lations had been given to understand that the 
fate of the young girl would be decided that 
evening. The visitors were seated at supper. 
Princess Kuragina, a portly imposing woman 
who had once been handsome, was sitting at 
the head of the table. On either side of her sat 
the more important guests an old general and 
his wife, and Anna Pdvlovna Schdrer. At the 
other end sat the younger and less important 
guests, and there too sat the members of the 
family, and Pierre and Hlne, side by side. 
Prince Vasili was not having any supper: he 
went round the table in a merry mood, sitting 
down now by one, now by another, of the 
guests. To each of them he made some careless 
and agreeable remark except to Pierre and He*I- 
ne, whose presence he seemed not to notice. 
He enlivened the whole party. The wax can- 
dles burned brightly, the silver and crystal 
gleamed, so did the ladies' toilets and the gold 
and silver of the men's epaulets; servants in scar- 
let liveries moved round the table, and the clat- 
ter of plates, knives, and glasses mingled with 
the animated hum of several conversations. At 
one end of the table, the old chamberlain was 
heard assuring an old baroness that he loved 
her passionately, at which she laughed; at the 
other could be heard the story of the misfor- 
tunes of some Mary Viktorovna or other. At 
the center of the table, Prince Vasili attracted 
everybody's attention. With a facetious smile 
on his face, he was telling the ladies about last 
Wednesday's meeting of the Imperial Council, 
at which Sergey Kuzmich Vyazmftinov, the new 
military governor general of Petersburg, had 
received and read the then famous rescript of 
the Emperor Alexander from the army to Ser- 
ge'y Kuzmich, in which the Emperor said that 
he was receiving from all sides declarations of 
the people's loyalty, that the declaration from 
Petersburg gave him particular pleasure, and 
that he was proud to be at the head of such a 
nation and would endeavor to be worthy of it. 
This rescript began with the words: "Serge'y 
Kuzmich, From all sides reports reach me," etc. 

"Well, and so he never got farther than: 
'Serge'y Kuzmich'?" asked one of the ladies. 

"Exactly, not a hair's breadth farther," an- 
swered Prince Vasili, laughing, " 'Serge'y Kuz- 
mich . . . From all sides . . . From all sides . . . 
Serge'y Kuzmich . . .' Poor Vyazmitinov could 
not get any farther. He began the rescript again 



and again, but as soon as he uttered 'Serge'y 9 he 
sobbed, 'Kuz-mi-ch' tears, and 'From all sides' 
was smothered in sobs and he could get no far- 
ther. And again his handkerchief, and again: 
'Sergey Kuzmich, From all sides' . . . and tears, 
till at last somebody else was asked to read it." 

"Kuzmich . . . From all sides . . . and then 
tears," someone repeated laughing. 

"Don't be unkind," cried Anna Pdvlovna 
from her end of the table holding up a threat- 
ening finger. "He is such a worthy and excellent 
man, our dear Vyazmitinov " 

Everybody laughed a great deal. At the head 
of the table, where the honored guests sat, ev- 
eryone seemed to be in high spirits and under 
the influence of a variety of exciting sensations. 
Only Pierre and Hellene sat silently side by 
side almost at the bottom of the table, a sup- 
pressed smile brightening both their faces, a 
smile that had nothing to do with Sergey Kuz- 
mfch a smile of bashfulness at their own feel- 
ings. But much as all the rest laughed, talked, 
and joked, much as they enjoyed their Rhine 
wine, saute, and ices, and however they avoid- 
ed looking at the young couple, and heedless 
and unobservant as they seemed of them, 
one could feel by the occasional glances they 
gave that the story about Sergey Kuzmfch, the 
laughter, and the food were all a pretense, and 
that the whole attention of that company was 
directed to Pierre and Hlne. Prince Vasili 
mimicked the sobbing of Serge'y Kuzmfch and 
at the same time his eyes glanced toward his 
daughter, and while he laughed the expression 
on his face clearly said: "Yes . . . it's getting on, 
it will all be settled today." Anna Pdvlovna 
threatened him on behalf of "our dear Vyaz- 
mitinov," and in her eyes, which, for an in- 
stant, glanced at Pierre, Prince Vasfli read a 
congratulation on his future son-in-law and on 
his daughter's happiness. The old princess 
sighed sadly as she offered some wine to the 
old lady next to her and glanced angrily at her 
daughter, and her sigh seemed to say: "Yes, 
there's nothing left for you and me but to sip 
sweet wine, my dear, now that the time has 
come for these young ones to be thus boldly, 
provocatively happy." "And what nonsense all 
this is that I am saying!" thought a diploma- 
tist, glancing at the happy faces of the lovers. 
"That's happiness!" 

Into the insignificant, trifling, and artificial 
interests uniting that society had entered the 
simple feeling of the attraction of a healthy 
and handsome young man and woman for one 
another. And this human feeling dominated 



BOOK 

everything else and soared above all their af- 
fected chatter. Jests fell flat, news was not in- 
teresting, and the animation was evidently 
forced. Not only the guests but even the foot- 
men waiting at table seemed to feel this, and 
they forgot their duties as they looked at the 
beautiful He"lene with her radiant face and at 
the red, broad, and happy though uneasy face 
of Pierre. It seemed as if the very light of the 
candles was focused on those two happy faces 
alone. 

Pierre felt that he was the center of it all, and 
this both pleased and embarrassed him. He was 
like a man entirely absorbed in some occupa- 
tion. He did not see, hear, or understand any- 
thing clearly. Only now and then detached 
ideas and impressions from the world of reality 
shot unexpectedly through his mind. 

"So it is all finished!" he thought. "And how 
has it all happened? How quickly 1 Now I know 
that not because of her alone, nor of myself 
alone, but because of everyone, it must inevi- 
tably come about. They are all expecting it, 
they are so sure that it will happen that I can- 
not, I cannot, disappoint them. But how will it 
be? I do not know, but it will certainly happen!" 
thought Pierre, glancingat those dazzlingshoul- 
ders close to his eyes. 

Or he would suddenly feel ashamed of he 
knew not what. He felt it awkward to attract 
everyone's attention and to be considered a 
lucky man and, with his plain face, to be looked 
on as a sort of Paris possessed of a Helen. "But 
no doubt it always is and must be so!" he con- 
soled himself. "And besides, what have I done 
to bring it about? How did it begin? I traveled 
from Moscow with Prince Vasfli. Then there 
was nothing. So why should I not stay at his 
house? Then I played cards with her and picked 
up her reticule and drove out with her. How 
did it begin, when did it all come about?" And 
here he was sitting by her side as her betrothed, 
seeing, hearing, feel ing her nearness, her breath- 
ing, her movements, her beauty. Then it 
would suddenly seem to him that it was not 
she but he who was so unusually beautiful, and 
that that was why they all looked so at him, 
and flattered by this general admiration he 
would expand his chest, raise his head, and re- 
joice at his good fortune. Suddenly he heard 
a familiar voice repeating something to him a 
second time. But Pierre was so absorbed that 
he did not understand what was said. 

"I am asking you when you last heard from 
Bolk6nski," repeated Prince Vasfli a third time. 
"How absent-minded you are, my dear fellow." 



THREE 117 

Prince Vastti smiled, and Pierre noticed that 
everyone was smiling at him and He"lene. 
"Well, what of it, if you all know it?" thought 
Pierre. "What of it? It's the truth!" and he him- 
self smiled his gentle childlike smile, and He*l- 
ene smiled too. 

"When did you get the letter? Was it from 
Olmiitz?" repeated Prince Vasfli, who pretend- 
ed to want to know this in order to settle a 
dispute. 

"How can one talk or think of such trifles?" 
thought Pierre. 

"Yes, from Olmiitz," he answered, with a 
sigh. 

After supper Pierre with his partner fol- 
lowed the others into the drawing room. The 
guests began to disperse, some without taking 
leave of Hlne. Some, as if unwilling to dis- 
tract her from an important occupation, came 
up to her for a moment and made haste to go 
away, refusing to let her see them off. The di- 
plomatist preserved a mournful silence as he 
left the drawing room. He pictured the vanity 
of his diplomatic career in comparison with 
Pierre's happiness. The old general grumbled 
at his wife when she asked how his leg was. 
"Oh, the old fool," he thought. "That Princess 
Hlene will be beautiful still when she's fifty." 

"I think I may congratulate you," whispered 
Anna Pdvlovna to the old princess, kissing her 
soundly. "If I hadn't this headache I'd have 
stayed longer." 

The old princess did not reply, she was tor- 
mented by jealousy of her daughter's happiness. 

While the guests were taking their leave, 
Pierre remained for a long time alone with 
Helene in the little drawing room where 
they were sitting. He had often before, during 
the last six weeks, remained alone with her, 
but had never spoken to her of love. Now he 
felt that it was inevitable, but he could not 
make up his mind to take the final step. He 
felt ashamed; he felt that he was occupying 
someone else's place here beside Hlne. "This 
happiness is not for you," some inner voice 
whispered to him. "This happiness is for those 
who have not in them what there is in you." 

But, as he had to say something, he began by 
asking her whether she was satisfied with the 
party. She replied in her usual simple manner 
that this name day of hers had been one of the 
pleasantest she had ever had. 

Some of the nearest relatives had not yet left. 
They were sitting in the large drawing room. 
Prince Vasfli came up to Pierre with languid 
footsteps. Pierre rose and said it was getting 



n8 



WAR AND PEACE 



late. Prince Vasfli gave him a look of stern in- 
quiry, as though what Pierre had just said was 
so strange that one could not take it in. But 
then the expression of severity changed, and 
he drew Pierre's hand downwards, made him 
sit down, and smiled affectionately. 

"Well, Lelya?" he asked, turning instantly 
to his daughter and addressing her with the 
careless tone of habitual tenderness natural to 
parents who have petted their children from 
babyhood, but which Prince Vasili had only 
acquired by imitating other parents. 

And he again turned to Pierre. 

"Serge*y Kuzmfch From all sides" he said, 
unbuttoning the top button of his waistcoat. 

Pierre smiled, but his smile showed that he 
knew it was not the story about Serge*y Kuz- 
mfch that interested Prince Vasfli just then, 
and Prince Vasili saw that Pierre knew this. 
He suddenly muttered something and went 
away. It seemed to Pierre that even the prince 
was disconcerted. The sight of the discompo- 
sure of that old man of the world touched 
Pierre: he looked at Hlene and she too 
seemed disconcerted, and her look seemed to 
say: "Well, it is your own fault." 

"The step must be taken but I cannot, I can- 
not! "thought Pierre, and he again began speak- 
ing about indifferent matters, about Sergey 
Kuzmfch, asking what the point of the story 
was as he had not heard it properly. Hellene 
answered with a smile that she too had missed 
it. 

When Prince Vasfli returned to the drawing 
room, the princess, his wife, was talking in 
low tones to the elderly lady about Pierre. 

"Of course, it is a very brilliant match, but 
happiness, my dear . . ." 

"Marriages are made in heaven," replied the 
elderly lady. 

Prince Vasili passed by, seeming not to hear 
the ladies, and sat down on a sofa in a far cor- 
ner of the room. He closed his eyes and seemed 
to be dozing. His head sank forward and then 
he roused himself. 

"Aline," he said to his wife, "go and see what 
they are about." 

The princess went up to the door, passed by 
it with a dignified and indifferent air, and 
glanced into the little drawing room. Pierre 
and H&ene still sat talking just as before. 

"Still the same," she said to her husband. 

Prince Vasili frowned, twisting his mouth, 
his cheeks quivered and his face assumed the 
coarse, unpleasant expression peculiar to him. 
Shaking himself, he rose, threw back his head, 



and with resolute steps went past the ladies in- 
to the little drawing room. With quick steps he 
went joyfully up to Pierre. His face was so un- 
usually triumphant that Pierre rose in alarm 
on seeing it. 

"Thank God!" said Prince Vasfli. "My wife 
has told me everything!" (He put one arm 
around Pierre and the other around his daugh- 
ter.) "My dear boy . . . Lelya ... I am very 
pleased." (His voice trembled.) "I loved your 
father . . . and she will make you a good wife 
. . . God bless you! . . ." 

He embraced his daughter, and then again 
Pierre, and kissed him with his malodorous 
mouth. Tears actually moistened his cheeks. 

"Princess, come here!" he shouted. 

The old princess came in and also wept. The 
elderly lady was using her handkerchief too. 
Pierre was kissed, and he kissed the beautiful 
Hdlne's hand several times. After a while they 
were left alone again. 

"All this had to be and could not be other- 
wise," thought Pierre, "so it is useless to ask 
whether it is good or bad. It is good because 
it's definite and one is rid of the old torment- 
ing doubt." Pierre held the hand of his be- 
trothed in silence, looking at her beautiful bos- 
om as it rose and fell. 

"He*lene!" he said aloud and paused. 

"Something special is always said in such 
cases," he thought, but could not remember 
what it was that people say. He looked at her 
face. She drew nearer to him. Her face flushed. 

"Oh, take those off ... those . . ." she said, 
pointing to his spectacles. 

Pierre took them off, and his eyes, besides 
the strange look eyes have from which spec- 
tacles have just been removed, had also a fright- 
ened arid inquiring look. He was about tostoop 
over her hand and kiss it, but with a rapid, al- 
most brutal movement of her head, she inter- 
cepted his lips and met them with her own. 
Her face struck Pierre, by its altered, unpleas- 
antly excited expression. 

"It is too late now, it's done; besides I love 
her," thought Pierre. 

"Je vous aime!" * he said, remembering what 
has to be said at such moments: but his words 
sounded so weak that he felt ashamed of him- 
self. 

Six weeks later he was married, and settled 
in Count Beziikhov's large, newly furnished Pe- 
tersburg house, the happy possessor, as people 
said, of a wife who was a celebrated beauty and 
of millions of money. 

1 "I love you." 



BOOK 

CHAPTER III 

OLD PRINCE NICHOLAS BOLK/^NSKI received a 
letter from Prince Vasili in November, 1805, 
announcing that he and his son would be pay- 
ing him a visit. "I am starting on a journey of 
inspection, and of course I shall think nothing 
of an extra seventy miles to come and see you 
at the same time, my honored benefactor," 
wrote Prince Vasili. "My son Anatole is accom- 
panying me on his way to the army, so I hope 
you will allow him personally to express the 
deep respect that, emulating his father, he feels 
for you." 

"It seems that there will be no need to bring 
Mary out, suitors are coming to us of their own 
accord," incautiously remarked the little prin- 
cess on hearing the news. 

Prince Nicholas frowned, but said nothing. 

A fortnight after the letter Prince Vasili's 
servants came one evening in advance of him, 
and he and his son arrived next day. 

Old Bolk6nski had always had a poor opin- 
ion of Prince Vasfli's character, but more so 
recently, since in the new reigns of Paul arid 
Alexander Prince Vasili had risen to high po- 
sition and honors. And now, from the hints 
contained in his letter and given by the little 
princess, he saw which way the wind was blow- 
ing, and his low opinion changed intoa feeling 
of contemptuous ill will. He snorted whenev- 
er he mentioned him. On the day of Prince Va- 
sili's arrival, Prince Bolkonski was particularly 
discontented and out of temper. Whether he 
was in a bad temper because Prince Vasili was 
coming, or whether his being in a bad temper 
made him specially annoyed at Prince Vasili's 
visit, he was in a bad temper, and in the morn- 
ing Tfkhon had already advised the architect 
not to go the prince with his report. 

"Do you hear how he's walking?" said Tfk- 
hon, drawing the architect's attention to the 
sound of the prince's footsteps. "Stepping flat 
on his heels we know what that means " 

However, at nine o'clock the prince, in his 
velvet coat with a sable collar and cap, went 
out for his usual walk. It had snowed the day 
before and the path to the hothouse, along 
which the prince was in the habit of walking, 
had been swept: the marks of the broom were 
still visible in the snow and a shovel had been 
left sticking in one of the soft snowbanks that 
bordered both sides of the path. The prince 
went through the conservatories, the serfs' 
quarters, and the outbuildings, frowning and 
silent. 

"Can a sleigh pass?" he asked his overseer, a 



THREE 119 

venerable man, resembling his master in man- 
ners and looks, who was accompanying him 
back to the house. 

"The snow is deep. I am having the avenue 
swept, your honor." 

The prince bowed his head and went up to 
the porch. "God be thanked," thought the 
overseer, "the storm has blown over!" 

"It would have been hard to drive up, your 
honor," he added. "I heard, your honor, that 
a minister is coming to visit your honor." 

The prince turned round to the overseer 
and fixed his eyes on him, frowning. 

"What? A minister? What minister? Who 
gave orders?" he said in his shrill, harsh voice. 
"The road is not swept for the princess my 
daughter, but for a minister! For me, there are 
no ministers!" 

"Your honor, I thought . . ." 

"You thought!" shouted the prince, his 
words coming more and more rapidly and in- 
distinctly. "You thoughtl . . . Rascals! Black- 
guards! . . . I'll teach you to think!" and lifting 
his stick he swung it and would have hit Al- 
pitych, the overseer, had not the latter instinc- 
tively avoided the blow. "Thought . . . Black- 
guards . . ." shouted the prince rapidly. 

But although Alpdtych, frightened at his own 
temerity in avoiding the stroke, came up to the 
prince, bowing his bald head resignedly before 
him, or perhaps for that very reason, the prince, 
though he continued to shout: "Blackguards! 
. . . Throw the snow back on the road!" did not 
lift his stick again but hurried into the house. 

Before dinner, Princess Mary and Mademoi- 
selle Bourienne, who knew that the prince was 
in a bad humor, stood awaiting him; Mademoi- 
selle Bourienne with a radiant face that said: 
"I know nothing, I am the same as usual," and 
Princess Mary, pale, frightened, and with down- 
cast eyes. What she found hardest to bear was 
to know that on such occasions she ought to be- 
have like Mademoiselle Bourienne, but could 
not. She thought: "If I seem not to notice he 
will think that I do not sympathize with him; if 
I seem sad and out of spirits myself, he will say 
(as he has done before) that I'm in thedumps." 

The prince looked at his daughter's fright- 
ened face and snorted. 

"Fool ... or dummy!" he muttered. 

"And the other one is not here. They've been 
telling tales," he thoughtreferring to the lit- 
tle princess who was not in the dining room. 

"Where is the princess?" he asked. "Hiding?" 

"She is not very well," answered Mademoi- 
selle Bourienne with a bright smile, "so she 



ISO 



WAR AND PEACE 



won't come down. It is natural in her state." 

"Hm! Hml" muttered the prince, sitting 
down. 

His plate seemed to him not quite dean, and 
pointing to a spot he flung it away. Tikhon 
caught it and handed it to a footman. The lit- 
tle princess was not unwell, but had such an 
overpowering fear of the prince that, hearing 
he was in a bad humor, she had decided not to 
appear. 

"I am afraid for the baby," she said to Made- 
moiselle Bourienne: "Heaven knows what a 
fright might do." 

In general at Bald Hills the little princess 
lived in constant fear, and with a sense of an- 
tipathy to the old prince which she did not re- 
alize because the fear was so much the strong- 
er feeling. The prince reciprocated this antip- 
athy, but it was overpowered by his contempt 
for her. When the little princess had grown 
accustomed to life at Bald Hills, she took a 
special fancy to Mademoiselle Bourienne, 
spent whole days with her, asked her to sleep in 
her room, and often talked with her about the 
old prince and criticized him. 

"So we are to have visitors, mon prince?" re- 
marked Mademoiselle Bourienne, unfolding 
her white napkin with her rosy fingers. "His 
Excellency Prince Vasili Kurdgin and his son, 
I understand?" she said inquiringly. 

"Hml his excellency is a puppy. ... I got 
him his appointment in the service," said the 
prince disdainfully. "Why his son is coming I 
don't understand. Perhaps Princess Elizabeth 
and Princess Mary know. I don't want him." 
(He looked at his blushing daughter.) "Are 
you unwell today? Eh? Afraid of the 'minister' 
as that idiot Alpdtych called him this morn- 
ing?" 

"No, mon pkre" 

Though Mademoiselle Bourienne had been 
so unsuccessful in her choice of a subject, she 
did not stop talking, but chattered about the 
conservatories and the beauty of a flower that 
had just opened, and after the soup the prince 
became more genial. 

After dinner, he went to see his daughter-in- 
law. The little princess was sitting at a small 
table, chattering with Msha, her maid. She 
grew pale on seeing her father-in-law. 

She was much altered. She was now plain 
rather than pretty. Her cheeks had sunk, her 
lip was drawn up, and her eyes drawn down. 

"Yes, I feel a kind of oppression/' she said 
in reply to the prince's question as to how she 
felt 



"Do you want anything?" 

"No, merci, mon ptre." 

"Well, all right, all right." 

He left the room and went to the waiting 
room where Alpdtych stood with bowed head. 

"Has the snow been shoveled back?" 

"Yes, your excellency. Forgive me for heav- 
en's sake ... It was only my stupidity." 

"All right, all right," interrupted the prince, 
and laughing in his unnatural way, he stretched 
out his hand for Alpdtych to kiss, and then pro- 
ceeded to his study. 

Prince Vasili arrived that evening. He was 
met in the avenue by coachmen and footmen, 
who, with loud shouts, dragged his sleighs up 
to one of the lodges over the road purposely 
laden with snow. 

Prince Vastti and Anatole had separate rooms 
assigned to them. 

Anatole, having taken off his overcoat, sat 
with arms akimbo before a table on a corner of 
which he smilingly and absent-mindedly fixed 
his large and handsome eyes. He regarded his 
whole life as a continual round of amusement 
which someone for some reason had to provide 
for him. And he looked on this visit to a churl- 
ish old man and a rich and ugly heiress in the 
same way. All this might, he thought, turn out 
very well and amusingly. "And why not marry 
her if she really has so much money? That nev- 
er does any harm," thought Anatole. 

He shaved and scented himself with the care 
and elegance which had become habitual to 
him and, his handsome head held high, entered 
his father's room with the good-humored and 
victorious air natural to him. Prince Vasili's 
two valets were busy dressing him, and he 
looked round with much animation and cheer- 
fully nodded to his son as the latter entered, as 
if to say: "Yes, that's how I want you to look." 

"I say, Father, joking apart, is she very hid- 
eous?" Anatole asked, as if continuing a con- 
versation the subject of which had often been 
mentioned during the journey. 

"Enough! What nonsensel Above all, try to 
be respectful and cautious with the old prince." 

"If he starts a row I'll go away," said Prince 
Anatole. "I can't bear those old men! Eh?" 

"Remember, for you everything depends on 
this." 

In the meantime, not only was it known in 
the maidservants' rooms that the minister and 
his son had arrived, but the appearance of both 
had been minutely described. Princess Mary, 
was sitting alone in her room, vainly trying to 
master her agitation. 



BOOK THREE 



"Why did they write, why did Lise tell me 
about it? It can never happen!" she said, look- 
ing at herself in the glass. "Howshall I enter the 
drawing room? Even if I like him I can't now 
be myself with him." The mere thought of her 
father's look filled her with terror. The little 
princess and Mademoiselle Bourienne had al- 
ready received from Mdsha, the lady's maid, 
the necessary report of how handsome the min- 
ister's son was, with his rosy cheeks and dark 
eyebrows, and with what difficulty the father 
had dragged his legs upstairs while the son had 
followed him like an eagle, three steps at a time. 
Having received this information, the little 
princess and Mademoiselle Bourienne, whose 
chattering voices had reached her from the cor- 
ridor, went into Princess Mary's room. 

"You know they've come, Marie?" said the 
little princess, waddling in, and sinking heav- 
ily into an armchair. 

She was no longer in the loose gown she gen- 
erally wore in the morning, but had on one of 
her best dresses. Her hair was carefully done 
and her face was animated, which, however, 
did not conceal its sunken and faded outlines. 
Dressed as she used to be in Petersburg society, 
it was still more noticeable how much plainer 
she had become. Some unobtrusive touch had 
been added to Mademoiselle Bourienne's toi- 
let which rendered her fresh and pretty face yet 
more attractive. 

"What! Are you going to remain as you are, 
dear princess?" she began. "They'll be an- 
nouncing that the gentlemen are in the draw- 
ing room and we shall have to go down, and 
you have not smartened yourself up at all!" 

The little princess got up, rang for the maid, 
and hurriedly and merrily began to devise and 
carry out a plan of how Princess Mary should 
be dressed. Princess Mary's self-esteem was 
wounded by the fact that the arrival of a suitor 
agitated her, and still more so by both her com- 
panions' not having the least conception that 
it could be otherwise. To tell them that she felt 
ashamed for herself and for them would be to 
betray her agitation, while to decline their of- 
fers to dress her would prolong their banter 
and insistence. She flushed, her beautiful eyes 
grew dim, red blotches came on her face, and it 
took on the unattractive martyrlike expression 
it so often wore, as she submitted herself to 
Mademoiselle Bourienne and Lise. Both these 
women quite sincerely tried to make her look 
pretty. She was so plain that neither of them 
could think of her as a rival, so they began 
dressing her with perfect sincerity, and with 



121 

the naive and firm conviction women have 
that dress can make a face pretty. 

"No really, my dear, this dress is not pretty," 
said Lise, looking sideways at Princess Mary 
from a little distance. "You have a maroon 
dress, have it fetched. Really! You know the 
fate of your whole life may be at stake. But this 
one is too light, it's not becoming!" 

It was not the dress, but the face and whole 
figure of Princess Mary that was not pretty, 
but neither Mademoiselle Bourienne nor the 
little princess felt this; they still thought that 
if a blue ribbon were placed in the hair, the 
hair combed up, and the blue scarf arranged 
lower on the best maroon dress, and so on, all 
would be well. They forgot that the frightened 
face and the figure could not be altered, and 
that however they might change the setting and 
adornment of that face, it would still remain 
piteous and plain. After two or three changes 
to which Princess Mary meekly submitted, just 
as her hair had been arranged on the top of 
her head (a style that quite altered and spoiled 
her looks) and she had put on a maroon dress 
with a pale-blue scarf, the little princess walked 
twice round her, now adjusting a fold of the 
dress with her little hand, now arranging the 
scarf and looking at her with her head bent 
first on one side and then on the other. 

"No, it will not do," she said decidedly, clasp- 
ing her hands. "No, Mary, really this dress does 
not suit you. I prefer you in your little gray 
everyday dress. Now please, do it for my sake. 
Katie," she said to the maid, "bring the prin- 
cess her gray dress, and you'll see, Mademoi- 
selle Bourienne, how I shall arrange it," she 
added,smilingwith a foretaste of artistic pleas- 
ure. 

But when Katie brought the required dress, 
Princess Mary remained sitting motionless be- 
fore the glass, looking at her face, and saw in 
the mirror her eyes full of tears and her mouth 
quivering, ready to burst into sobs. 

"Come, dear princess," said Mademoiselle 
Bourienne, "just one more little effort." 

The little princess, taking the dress from the 
maid, came up to Princess Mary. 

"Well, now we'll arrange something quite 
simple and becoming," she said. 

The three voices, hers, Mademoiselle Bouri- 
enne's, and Katie's, who was laughing at some- 
thing, mingled in a merry sound, like the chirp- 
ing of birds. 

"No, leave me alone," said Princess Mary. 

Her voice sounded so serious and so sad that 
the chirping of the birds was silenced at once. 



122 

They looked at the beautiful, large, thought- 
ful eyes full of tears and of thoughts, gazing 
shiningly and imploringly at them, and under- 
stood that it was useless and even cruel to in- 
sist. 

"At least, change your coiffure," said the lit- 
tle princess. "Didn't I tell you," she went on, 
turning reproachfully to Mademoiselle Bouri- 
enne, "Mary's is a face which such a coiffure 
does not suit in the least. Not in the least! 
Please change it." 

"Leave me alone, please leave me alone! It 
is all quite the same to me," answered a voice 
struggling with tears. 

Mademoiselle Bourienne and the little prin- 
cess had to own to themselves that Princess 
Mary in this guise looked very plain, worse 
than usual, but it was too late. She was looking 
at them with an expression they both knew, an 
expression thoughtful and sad. This expres- 
sion in Princess Mary did not frighten them 
(she never inspired fear in anyone), but they 
knew that when it appeared on her face, she 
became mute and was not to be shaken in her 
determination. 

"You will change it, won't you?" said Lise. 
And as Princess Mary gave no answer, she left 
the room. 

Princess Mary was left alone. She did not 
comply with Lise's request, she not only left 
her hair as it was, but did not even look in her 
glass. Letting her arms fall helplessly, she sat 
with downcast eyes and pondered. A husband, 
a man, a strong dominant and strangely attrac- 
tive being rose in her imagination, and carried 
her into a totally different happy world of his 
own. She fancied a child, her ouw such as she 
had seen the day before in the arms of her 
nurse's daughter at her own breast, the hus- 
band standing by and gazing tenderly at her 
and the child. "But no, it is impossible, I am 
too ugly," she thought. 

"Please come to tea. The prince will be out 
in a moment," came the maid's voice at the 
door. 

She roused herself, and felt appalled at what 
she had been thinking, and before going down 
she went into the room where the icons hung 
and, her eyes fixed on the dark face of a large 
icon of the Saviour lit by a lamp, she stood be- 
fore it with folded hands for a few moments. A 
painful doubt filled her soul. Could the joy of 
love, of earthly love for a man, be for her? 
In her thoughts of marriage Princess Mary 
dreamed of happiness and of children, but her 
strongest, most deeply hidden longing was for 



WAR AND PEACE 



earthly love. The more she tried to hide this 
feeling from others and even from herself, the 
stronger it grew. "O God," she said, "how am 
I to stifle in my heart these temptations of the 
devil? How am I to renounce forever these vile 
fancies, so as peacefully to fulfill Thy will?" 
And scarcely had she put that question than 
God gave her the answer in her own heart. 
"Desire nothing for thyself, seek nothing, be 
not anxious or envious. Man's future and thy 
own fate must remain hidden from thee, but 
live so that thou mayest be ready for anything. 
If it be God's will to prove thee in the duties 
of marriage, be ready to fulfill His will." With 
this consoling thought (but yet with a hope 
for the fulfillment of her forbidden earthly 
longing) Princess Mary sighed, and having 
crossed herself went down, thinking neither of 
her gown and coifTure nor of how she would go 
in nor of what she would say. What could all 
that matter in comparison with the will of 
God, without Whose care not a hair of man's 
head can fall? 

CHAPTER IV 

WHEN PRINCESS MARY came down, Prince Va- 
sili and his son were already in the drawing 
room, talking to the little princess and Made- 
moiselle Bourienne. When she entered with 
her heavy step, treading on her heels, the gen- 
tlemen and Mademoiselle Bourienne rose and 
the little princess, indicating her to the gentle- 
men, said: "Voila Marie!" Princess Mary saw 
them all and saw them in detail. She saw Prince 
Vasili's face, serious for an instant at the sight 
of her, but immediately smiling again, and the 
little princess curiously noting the impression 
"Marie" produced on the visitors. And she saw 
Mademoiselle Bourienne, with her ribbon and 
pretty face, and her unusually animated look 
which was fixed on him, but him she could not 
see, she only saw something large, brilliant, 
and handsome moving toward her as she en- 
tered the room. Prince Vasf li approached first, 
and she kissed the bold forehead that bent 
over her hand and answered his question by 
saying that, on the contrary, she remembered 
him quite well. Then Anatole came up to her. 
She still could not see him. She only felt a soft 
hand taking hers firmly, and she touched with 
her lips a white forehead, over which was beau- 
tiful light-brown hair smelling of pomade. 
When she looked up at him she was struck by 
his beauty. Anatole stood with his right thumb 
under a button of his uniform, his chest ex- 
panded and his back drawn in, slightly swing- 



BOOK 

ing one foot, and, with his head a little bent, 
looked with beaming face at the princess with- 
out speaking and evidently not thinking about 
her at all. Anatole was not quick-witted, nor 
ready or eloquent in conversation, but he had 
the faculty, so invaluable in society, of compo- 
sure and imperturbable self-possession. If a 
man lacking in self-confidence remains dumb 
on a first introduction and betrays a conscious- 
ness of the impropriety of such silence and an 
anxiety to find something to say, the effect is 
bad. But Anatole was dumb, swung his foot, and 
smilingly examined the princess' hair. It was 
evident that he could be silent in this way for 
a very long time. "If anyone finds this silence 
inconvenient, let him talk, but I don't want 
to," he seemed to say. Besides this, in his be- 
havior to women Anatole had a manner which 
particularly inspires in them curiosity, awe, 
and even lovea supercilious consciousness of 
his own superiority. It was as if he said to them: 
"I know you, I know you, but why should I 
bother about you? You'd be only too glad, of 
course." Perhaps he did not really think this 
when he met women even probably he did 
not, for in general he thought very little but 
his looks and manner gave that impression. 
The princess felt this, and as if wishing to show 
him that she did not even dare expect to in- 
terest him, she turned to his father. The con- 
versation was general and animated, thanks to 
Princess Lise's voice and little downy lip that 
lifted over her white teeth. She met Prince Va- 
sfli with that playful manner often employed 
by lively chatty people, and consisting in the 
assumption that between the person they so 
address and themselves there are some semi- 
private, long-established jokes and amusing 
reminiscences, though no such reminiscences 
really existjust as none existed in this case. 
Prince Vasfli readily adopted her tone and the 
little princess also drew Anatole, whom she 
hardly knew, into these amusing recollections 
of things that had never occurred. Mademoi- 
selle Bourienne also shared them and even 
Princess Mary felt herself pleasantly made to 
share in these merry reminiscences. 

"Here at least we shall have the benefit of 
your company all to ourselves, dear prince," 
said the little princess (of course, in French) 
to Prince Vasili. "It's not as at Annette's l re- 
ceptions where you always ran away; you re- 
member cette chere Annette!" 

"Ah, but you won't talk politics to me like 
Annette!" 

1 Anna Pavlovna. 



123 



THREE 

"And our little tea table?" 

"Oh, yes!" 

"Why is it you were never at Annette's?" the 
little princess asked Anatole. "Ah, I know, I 
know," she said with a sly glance, "your broth- 
er Hippolyte told me about your goings on. 
Oh!" and she shook her finger at him, "I have 
even heard of your doings in Paris!" 

"And didn't Hippolyte tell you?" asked 
Prince Vasili, turning to his son and seizing 
the little princess' arm as if she would have run 
away and he had just managed to catch her, 
"didn't he tell you how he himself was pining 
for the dear princess, and how she showed him 
the door? Oh, she is a pearl among women, 
Princess," he added, turning to Princess Mary. 

When Paris was mentioned, Mademoiselle 
Bourienne for her part seized the opportunity 
of joining in the general current of recollec- 
tions. 

She took the liberty of inquiring whether it 
was long since Anatole had left Paris and how 
he had liked that city. Anatole answered the 
Frenchwoman very readily and, looking at her 
with a smile, talked to her about her native 
land. When he saw the pretty little Bourienne, 
Anatole came to the conclusion that he would 
not find Bald Hills dull either. "Notatall bad!" 
he thought, examining her, "not at all bad, 
that little companion! I hope she will bring 
her along with her when we're married, la 
petite est gentille" * 

The old prince dressed leisurely in his study, 
frowning and considering what he was to do. 
The coming of these visitors annoyed him. 
"What are Prince Vasili and that son of his to 
me? Prince Vasili is a shallow braggart and his 
son, no doubt, is a fine specimen, "he grumbled 
to himself. What angered him was that the 
coming of these visitors revived in his mind an 
unsettled question he always tried to stifle, one 
about which he always deceived himself. The 
question was whether he could ever bring him- 
self to part from his daughter and give her to 
a husband. The prince never directly asked 
himself that question, knowing beforehand 
that he would have to answer it justly, and jus- 
tice clashed not only with his feelings but with 
the very possibility of life. Life without Prin- 
cess Mary, little as he seemed to value her, was 
unthinkable to him. "And why should she 
marry?" he thought. "To be unhappy for cer- 
tain. There's Lise, married to Andrew a bet- 
ter husband one would think could hardly be 
found nowadays but is she contented with 

The little one is charming. 



124 



WAR AND PEACE 



her lot? And who would marry Marie for love? 
Plain and awkward! They'll take her for her 
connections and wealth. Are there no women 
living unmarried, and even the happier for it?" 
So thought Prince Bolk6nski while dressing, 
and yet the question he was always putting off 
demanded an immediate answer. Prince Vasfli 
had brought his son with the evident inten- 
tion of proposing, and today or tomorrow he 
would probably ask for an answer. His birth 
and position in society were not bad. "Well, 
I've nothing against it," the prince said to him- 
self, "but he must be worthy of her. And that 
is what we shall see." 

"That is what we shall see! That is what we 
shall see!" he added aloud. 

He entered the drawing room with his usual 
alert step, glancing rapidly round the com- 
pany. He noticed the change in the little prin- 
cess' dress, Mademoiselle Bourienne's ribbon, 
Princess Mary's unbecoming coiffure, Made- 
moiselle Bourienne's and Anatole's smiles, and 
the loneliness of his daughter amid the general 
conversation. "Got herself up like a fool!" he 
thought, looking irritably at her. "She is shame- 
less, and he ignores her!" 

He went straight up to Prince Vasili. 
"Well! How d'ye do? How d'ye do? Glad to 
see you!" 

"Friendship laughs at distance," began Prince 
Vasfli in his usual rapid, self-confident, familiar 
tone. "Here is my second son; please love and 
befriend him." 

Prince Bolk6nski surveyed Anatole. 
"Fine young fellow! Fine young fellow!" he 
said. "Well, come and kiss me," and he offered 
his cheek. 

Anatole kissed the old man, and looked at 
him with curiosity and perfect composure, 
waiting for a display of the eccentricities his 
father had told him to expect. 

Prince Bolk6nski sat down in his usual place 
in the corner of the sofa and, drawing up an 
armchair for Prince Vasili, pointed to it and 
began questioning him about political affairs 
and news. He seemed to listen attentively to 
what Prince Vasfli said, but kept glancing at 
Princess Mary. 

"And so they are writing from Potsdam al- 
ready?" he said, repeating Prince Vasfli's last 
words. Then rising, he suddenly went up to 
his daughter. 

"Is it for visitors you've got yourself up like 
that, eh?" said he. "Fine, very fine! You have 
done up your hair in this new way for the visi- 
tors, and before the visitors I tell you that in 



future you are never to dare to change your 
way of dress without my consent." 

"It was my fault, mon pkre" interceded the 
little princess, with a blush. 

"You must do as you please," said Prince 
Bolk6nski, bowing to his daughter-in-law, "but 
she need not make a fool of herself, she's plain 
enough as it is." 

And he sat down again, paying no more at- 
tention to his daughter, who was reduced to 
tears. 

"On the contrary, that coiffure suits the 
princess very well," said Prince Vasfli. 

"Now you, young prince, what's your name?" 
said Prince Bolk6nski, turning to Anatole, 
"come here, let us talk and get acquainted." 

"Now the fun begins," thought Anatole, sit- 
ting down with a smile beside the old prince. 

"Well, my dear boy, I hear you've been edu- 
cated abroad, not taught to read and write by 
the deacon, like your father and me. Now tell 
me, my dear boy, are you serving in the Horse 
Guards?" asked the old man, scrutinizing Ana- 
tole closely and intently. 

"No, I have been transferred to the line," 
said Anatole, hardly able to restrain his laugh- 
ter. 

"Ah! That's a good thing. So, my dear boy, 
you wish to serve the Tsar and the country? It 
is wartime. Such a fine fellow must serve. Well, 
are you off to the front?" 

"No, Prince, our regiment has gone to the 
front, but I am attached . . . what is it I am at- 
tached to, Papa?" said Anatole, turning to his 
father with a laugh. 

"A splendid soldier, splendid! 'What am I 
attached to!' Ha, ha, ha!" laughed Prince Bol- 
k6nski, and Anatole laughed still louder. Sud- 
denly Prince Bolk6nski frowned. 

"You may go," he said to Anatole. 

Anatole returned smiling to the ladies. 

"And so you've had him educated abroad, 
Prince Vasfli, haven't you?" said the old prince 
to Prince Vasfli. 

"I have done my best for him, and I can as- 
sure you the education there is much better 
than ours." 

"Yes, everything is different nowadays, every- 
thing is changed. The lad's a fine fellow, a fine 
fellow! Well, come with me now." He took 
Prince Vasfli's arm and led him to his study. 
As soon as they were alone together, Prince 
Vasfli announced his hopes and wishes to the 
old prince. 

"Well, do you think I shall prevent her, that 
I can't part from her?" said the old prince an- 



BOOK THREE 



125 



grily. "What an ideal I'm ready for it tomor- 
row! Only let me tell you, I want to know my 
son-in-law better. You know my principles 
everything aboveboardl I will ask her tomor- 
row in your presence; if she is willing, then he 
can stay on. He can stay and I'll see." The old 
prince snorted. "Let her marry, it's all the same 
to me!" he screamed in the same piercing tone 
as when parting from his son. 

"I will tell you frankly," said Prince Vasili 
in the tone of a crafty man convinced of the 
futility of being cunning with so keen-sighted 
a companion. "You know, you see right through 
people. Anatole is no genius, but he is an hon- 
est, goodhearted lad; an excellent son or kins- 
man." 

"All right, all right, we'll seel" 

As always happens when women lead lonely 
lives for any length of time without male soci- 
ety, on Anatole's appearance all the three wom- 
en of Prince Bolk6nski's household felt that 
their life had not been real till then. Their 
powers of reasoning, feeling, and observing 
immediately increased tenfold, and their life, 
which seemed to have been passed in darkness, 
was suddenly lit up by a new brightness, full of 
significance. 

Princess Mary grew quite unconscious of her 
face and coiffure. The handsome open face of 
the man who might perhaps be her husband 
absorbed all her attention. He seemed to her 
kind, brave, determined, manly, and magnani- 
mous. She felt convinced of that. Thousands 
of dreams of a future family life continually 
rose in her imagination. She drove them away 
and tried to conceal them. 

"But am I not too cold with him?" thought 
the princess. "I try to be reserved because in 
the depth of my soul I feel too near to him al- 
ready, but then he cannot know what I think of 
him and may imagine that I do not like him." 

And Princess Mary tried, but could not man- 
age, to be cordial to her new guest. "Poor girl, 
she's devilish ugly!" thought Anatole. 

Mademoiselle Bourienne, also roused to 
great excitement by Anatole's arrival, thought 
in another way. Of course, she, a handsome 
young woman without any definite position, 
without relations or even a country, did not in- 
tend to devote her life to serving Prince Bol- 
k6nski, to reading aloud to him and being 
friends with Princess Mary. Mademoiselle 
Bourienne had long been waiting for a Rus- 
sian prince who, able to appreciate at a glance 
her superiority to the plain, badly dressed, un- 
gainly Russian princesses, would fall in love 



with her and carry her off; and here at last 
was a Russian prince. Mademoiselle Bourienne 
knew a story, heard from her aunt but finished 
in her own way, which she liked to repeat to 
herself. It was the story of a girl who had been 
seduced, and to whom her poor mother (sa 
pauvre mtre) appeared, and reproached her 
for yielding to a man without being married. 
Mademoiselle Bourienne was often touched to 
tears as in imagination she told this story to 
him, her seducer. And now he, a real Russian 
prince, had appeared. He would carry her 
away and then sa pauvre mtre would appear 
and he would marry her. So her future shaped 
itself in Mademoiselle Bourienne's head at the 
very time she was talking to Anatole about 
Paris. It was not calculation that guided her 
(she did not even for a moment consider what 
she should do), but all this had long been famil- 
iar to her, and now that Anatole had appeared 
it just grouped itself around him and she 
wished and tried to please him as much as pos- 
sible. 

The little princess, like an old war horse 
that hears the trumpet, unconsciously and quite 
forgetting her condition, prepared for the fa- 
miliar gallop of coquetry, without any ulterior 
motive or any struggle, but with naive and 
lighthearted gaiety. 

Although in female society Anatole usually 
assumed the role of a man tired of being run 
after by women, his vanity was flattered by the 
spectacle of his power over these three women. 
Besides that, he was beginning to feel for the 
pretty and provocative Mademoiselle Bouri- 
enne that passionate animal feeling which was 
apt to master him with great suddenness and 
prompt him to the coarsest and most reckless 
actions. 

After tea, the company went into the sitting 
room and Princess Mary was asked to play on 
the clavichord. Anatole, laughing and in high 
spirits, came and leaned on his elbows, facing 
her and beside Mademoiselle Bourienne. Prin- 
cess Mary felt his look with a painfully joy- 
ous emotion. Her favorite sonata bore her in- 
to a most intimately poetic world and the look 
she felt upon her made that world still more 
poetic. But Anatole's expression, though 
his eyes were fixed on her, referred not to 
her but to the movements of Mademoiselle 
Bourienne's little foot, which he was. then 
touching with his own under the clavichord. 
Mademoiselle Bourienne was also look- 
ing at Princess Mary, and in her lovely eyes 
there was a look of fearful joy and hope 



126 



WAR AND PEACE 



that was also new to the princess. 

"How she loves me I" thought Princess Mary. 
"How happy I am now, and how happy I may 
be with such a friend and such a husband! 
Husband? Can it be possible?" she thought, 
not daring to look at his face, but still feeling 
his eyes gazing at her. 

In the evening, after supper, when all were 
about to retire, Anatole kissed Princess Mary's 
hand. She did not know how she found the 
courage, but she looked straight into his hand- 
some face as it came near to her shortsighted 
-eyes. Turning from Princess Mary he went up 
and kissed Mademoiselle Bourienne's hand. 
(This was not etiquette, but then he did every- 
thing so simply and with such assurancel) 
Mademoiselle Bourienne flushed, and gave the 
princess a frightened look. 

"What delicacy!" thought the princess. "Is it 
possible that Amdlie" (Mademoiselle Bouri- 
enne) "thinks I could be jealous of her, and 
not value her pure affection and devotion to 
me?" She went up to her and kissed her warm- 
ly. Anatole went up to kiss the little princess' 
hand. 

"No! No! No! When your father writfes to 
tell me that you are behaving well I will give 
you my hand to kiss. Not till then!" she said. 
And smilingly raising a finger at him, she left 
the room. 

CHAPTER V 

THEY ALL SEPARATED, but, except Anatole who 
fell asleep as soon as he got into bed, all kept 
awake a long time that night. 

"Is he really to be my husband, this stranger 
who is so kind yes, kind, that is the chief 
thing," thought Princess Mary; and fear, which 
she had seldom experienced, came upon her. 
She feared to look round, it seemed to her that 
someone was there standing behind the screen 
in the dark corner. And this someone was he 
the devil and he was also this man with the 
white forehead, black eyebrows, and red lips. 

She rang for her maid and asked her to sleep 
in her room. 

Mademoiselle Bourienne walked up and 
down the conservatory for a long time that eve- 
ning, vainly expecting someone, now smiling 
at someone, now working herself up to tears 
with the imaginary words of her pauvre mere 
rebuking her for her fall. 

The ij^tle princess grumbled to her maid 
that her bed was badly made. She could not lie 
either on her face or on her side. Every posi- 
tion was awkward and uncomfortable, and her 



burden oppressed her now more than ever be- 
cause Anatole's presence had vividly recalled 
to her the time when she was not like that and 
when everything was light and gay. She sat in 
an armchair in her dressing jacket and night- 
cap and Katie, sleepy and disheveled, beat and 
turned the heavy feather bed for the third 
time, muttering to herself. 

"I told you it was all lumps and holes!" 
the little princess repeated. "I should be glad 
enough to fall asleep, so it's not my fault!" and 
her voice quivered like that of a child about to 
cry. 

The old prince did not sleep either. Tikhon, 
half asleep, heard him pacing angrily about 
and snorting. The old prince felt as though he 
had been insulted through his daughter. The 
insult was the more pointed because it con- 
cerned not himself but another, his daughter, 
whom he loved more than himself. He kept 
telling himself that he would consider the 
whole matter and decide what was right and 
how he should act, but instead of that he only 
excited himself more and more. 

"The first man that turns up she forgets 
her father and everything else, runs upstairs 
and does up her hair and wags her tail and is 
unlike herself! Glad to throw her father over! 
And she knew I should notice it. Fr . . . fr . . . 
fr . . . ! And don't I see that that idiot had eyes 
only for Bourienne I shall have to get rid of 
her. And how is it she has not pride enough 
to see it? If she has no pride for herself she 
might at least have some for my sake! She must 
be shown that the blockhead thinks nothing of 
her and looks only at Bourienne. No, she has 
no pride . . . but I'll let her see. . . ." 

The old prince knew that if he told his 
daughter she was making a mistake and that 
Ana tole meant to flirt with Mademoiselle Bouri- 
enne, Princess Mary's self-esteem would be 
wounded and his point (not to be parted from 
her) would be gained, so pacifying himself 
with this thought, he called Tikhon and began 
to undress. 

"What devil brought them here?" thought 
he, while Tikhon was putting the nightshirt 
over his dried-up old body and gray-haired 
chest. "I never invited them. They came to dis- 
turb my life and there is not much of it left." 

"Devil take'em!" he muttered, while his head 
was still covered by the shirt. 

Tikhon knew his master's habit of some- 
times thinking aloud, and therefore met with 
unaltered looks the angrily inquisitive expres- 
sion of the face that emerged from the shirt. 



BOOK THREE 



127 



"Gone to bed?" asked the prince. 

Tikhon, like all good valets, instinctively 
knew the direction of his master's thoughts. He 
guessed that the question referred to Prince 
Vasfli and his son. 

"They have gone to bed and put out their 
lights, your excellency." 

"No good ... no good . . ." said the prince 
rapidly, and thrusting his feet into his slippers 
and his arms into the sleeves of his dressing 
gown, he went to the couch on which he slept. 

Though no words had passed between Ana- 
tole and Mademoiselle Bourienne, they quite 
understood one another as to the first part of 
their romance, up to the appearance of the 
pauvre mere; they understood that they had 
much to say to one another in private and so 
they had been seeking an opportunity since 
morning to meet one another alone. When 
Princess Mary went to her father's room at the 
usual hour, Mademoiselle Bourienne and Ana- 
tole met in the conservatory. 

Princess Mary went to the door of the study 
with special trepidation. It seemed to her that 
not only did everybody know that her fate 
would be decided that day, but that they also 
knew what she thought about it. She read this 
in Tikhon's face and in that of Prince Vasili's 
valet, who made her a low bow when she met 
him in the corridor carrying hot water. 

The old prince was very affectionate and 
careful in his treatment of his daughter that 
morning. Princess Mary well knew this pains- 
taking expression of her father's. His face wore 
that expression when his dry hands clenched 
with vexation at her not understanding a sum 
in arithmetic, when rising from his chair he 
would walk away from her, repeating in a low 
voice the same words several times over. 

He came to the point at once, treating her 
ceremoniously. 

"I have had a proposition made me concern- 
ing you," he said with an unnatural smile. "I 
expect you have guessed that Prince Vasili has 
not come and brought his pupil with him" 
(for some reason Prince Bolktinski referred to 
Anatole as a "pupil") "for the sake of my beau- 
tiful eyes. Last night a proposition was made 
me on your account and, as you know my prin- 
ciples, I refer it to you." 

"How am I to understand you, man perel" 
said the princess, growing pale and then blush- 
ing. 

"How understand me!" cried her father an- 
grily. "Prince Vasfli finds you to his taste as a 
daughter-in-law and makes a proposal to you 



on his pupil's behalf. That's how it's to be un- 
derstood 1 'How understand it'! ... And I ask 
you!" 

"I do not know what you think, Father," 
whispered the princess. 

"I? I? What of me? Leave me out of the 
question. I'm not going to get married. What 
about you? That's what I want to know." 

The princess saw that her father regarded 
the matter with disapproval, but at that mo- 
ment the thought occurred to her that her fate 
would be decided now or never. She lowered 
her eyes so as not to see the gaze under which 
she felt that she could not think, but would 
only be able to submit from habit, and she 
said: "I wish only to do your will, but if I had 
to express my own desire . . ." She had no time 
to finish. The old prince interrupted her. 

"That's admirable!" he shouted. "He will 
take you with your dowry and take Mademoi- 
selle Bourienne into the bargain. She'll be the 
wife, while you . . ." 

The prince stopped. He saw the effect these 
words had produced on his daughter. She low- 
ered her head and was ready to burst into tears. 

"Now then, now then, I'm only joking!" he 
said. "Remember this, Princess, I hold to the 
principle that a maiden has a full right to 
choose. I give you freedom. Only remember 
that your life's happiness depends on your de- 
cision. Never mind me!" 

"But I do not know. Father!" 

"There's no need to talk! He receives his 
orders and will marry you or anybody; but you 
are free to choose. ... Go to your room, think 
it over, and come back in an hour and tell me 
in his presence: yes or no. I know you will pray 
over it. Well, pray if you like, but you had bet- 
ter think it over. Go! Yes or no, yes or no, yes 
or no!" he still shouted when the princess, as 
if lost in a fog, had already staggered out of the 
study. 

Her fate was decided and happily decided. 
But what her father had said about Mademoi- 
selle Bourienne was dreadful. It was untrue to 
be sure, but still it was terrible, and she could 
not help thinking of it. She was going straight 
on through the conservatory, neither seeing 
nor hearing anything, when suddenly the well- 
known whisperingof Mademoiselle Bourienne 
aroused her. She raised her eyes, and two steps 
away saw Anatole embracing the Frenchwom- 
an and whispering something to her. With a 
horrified expression on his handsome face, An- 
atole looked at Princess Mary, but did not at 
once take his arm from the waist of Mademoi- 



128 



WAR AND PEACE 



selle Bourienne who had not yet seen her. 

"Who's that? Why? Wait a moment!" Ana- 
tole's face seemed to say. Princess Mary looked 
at them in silence. She could not understand 
it. At last Mademoiselle Bourienne gave a 
scream and ran away. Anatole bowed to Prin- 
cess Mary with a gay smile, as if inviting her to 
join in a laugh at this strange incident, and 
then shrugging his shoulders went to the door 
that led to his own apartments. 

An hour later, Ti'khon came to call Princess 
Mary to the old prince; he added that Prince 
Vasiii was also there. When Tikhon came to 
her Princess Mary was sitting on the sofa in 
her room, holding the weeping Mademoiselle 
Bourienne in her arms and gently stroking her 
hair. The princess* beautiful eyes with all their 
former calm radiance were looking with tend- 
er affection and pity at Mademoiselle Bouri- 
enne's pretty face. 

"No, Princess, I have lost your affection for- 
ever 1" said Mademoiselle Bourienne. 

"Why? I love you more than ever/'said Prin- 
cess Mary, "and I will try to do all I can for 
your happiness." 

"But you despise me. You who are so pure 
can never understand being so carried away by 
passion. Oh, only my poor mother . . ." 

"I quite understand," answered Princess 
Mary, with a sad smile. "Calm yourself, my 
dear. I will go to my father," she said, and went 
out. 

Prince Vasiii, with one leg thrown high over 
the other and a snuffbox in his hand, was sit- 
ting there with a smile of deep emotion on his 
face, as if stirred to his heart's core and himself 
regretting and laughing at his own sensibility, 
when Princess Mary entered. He hurriedly took 
a pinch of snuff. 

"Ah, my dear, my dear!" he began, rising 
and taking her by both hands. Then, sighing, 
he added: "My son's fate is in your hands. De- 
cide, my dear, good, gentle Marie, whom I have 
always loved as a daughter!" 

He drew back and a real tear appeared in 
his eye. 

"Fr ... fr ..." snorted Prince Bolkdnski. 
"The prince is making a proposition to you in 
his pupil's I mean, his son'sname. Do you 
wish or not to be Prince Anatole Kurdgin's 
wife? Reply: yes or no," he shouted, "and then 
I shall reserve the right to state my opinion al- 
so. Yes, my opinion, and only my opinion," 
added Prince Bolk6nski, turning to Prince Va- 
siii and answering his imploring look. "Yes, or 
no?" 



"My desire is never to leave you, Father, nev- 
er to separate my life from yours. I don't wish 
to marry," she answered positively, glancing at 
Prince Vasiii and at her father with her beauti- 
ful eyes. 

"Humbug! Nonsense! Humbug, humbug, 
humbug!" cried Prince Bolk6nski, frowning 
and taking his daughter's hand; he did not kiss 
her, but only bending his forehead to hers just 
touched it, and pressed her hand so that she 
winced and uttered a cry. 

Prince Vasfli rose. 

"My dear, I must tell you that this is a 
moment I shall never, never forget. But, 
my dear, will you not give us a little hope of 
touching this heart, so kind and generous? 
Say 'perhaps' . . . The future is so long. Say 
'perhaps.' " 

"Prince, what I have said is all there is in my 
heart. I thank you for the honor, but I shall 
never be your son's wife." 

"Well, so that's finished, my dear fellow! I 
am very glad to have seen you. Very glad! Go 
back to your rooms, Princess. Go!" said the old 
prince. "Very, very glad to have seen you," re* 
peated he, embracing Prince Vasfli. 

"My vocation is a different one," thought 
Princess Mary. "My vocation is to be happy 
with another kind of happiness, the happiness 
of love and self-sacrifice. And cost what it may, 
I will arrange poor Am^lie's happiness, she 
loves him so passionately, and so passionately 
repents. I will do all I can to arrange tjje match 
between them. If he is not rich I will^give her 
the means; I will ask my father and Andrew. I 
shall be so happy when she is his wife. She is 
so unfortunate, a stranger, alone, helpless! And, 
oh God, how passionately she must love him if 
she could so far forget herself! Perhaps I might 
have done the same! . . ." thought Princess 
Mary. 

CHAPTER VI 

IT WAS long since the Rost6vs had news of 
Nicholas. Not till midwinter was the count at 
last handed a letter addressed in his son's hand- 
writing. On receiving it, he ran on tiptoe to his 
study in alarm and haste, trying to escape no- 
tice, closed the door, and began to read the 
letter. 

Anna Mikhdylovna, who always knew every- 
thing that passed in the house, on hearing of 
the arrival of the letter went softly into the 
room and found the count with it in his hand, 
sobbing and laughing at the same time. 

Anna MikMylovna, though her circum- 



BOOK 

stances had improved, was still living with the 
Rost6vs. 

"My dear friend?" said she, in a tone of pa- 
thetic inquiry, prepared to sympathize in any 
way. 

The count sobbed yet more. 

"Nik61enka ... a letter ... wa ... a ... s 
. . . wounded . . . my darling boy . . . the count- 
ess ... promoted to be an officer . . . thank God 
. . . How tell the little countessl" 

Anna Mikhaylovna sat down beside him, with 
her own handkerchief wiped the tears from his 
eyes and from the letter, then having dried her 
own eyes she comforted the count, and decided 
that at dinner and till teatime she would pre- 
pare the countess, and after tea, with God's 
help, would inform her. 

At dinner Anna Mikhaylovna talked the 
whole time about the war news and about Ni- 
k61enka, twice asked when the last letter had 
been received from him, though she knew that 
already, and remarked that they might very 
likely be getting a letter from him that day. 
Each time that these hints began to make the 
countess anxious and she glanced uneasily at 
the count and at Anna Mikhaylovna, the lat- 
ter very adroitly turned the conversation to in- 
significant matters. Natasha, who, of the whole 
family, was the most gifted with a capacity to 
feel any shades of intonation, look, and ex- 
pression, pricked up her ears from the begin- 
ning of the meal and was certain that there 
was some secret between her father and Anna 
Mikhay'-vna, that it had something to do with 
her brotuer, and that Anna Mikh;iylovna was 
preparing them for it. Bold as she was, Nata- 
sha, who knew how sensitive her mother was 
to anything relating to Nik61enka,did not ven- 
ture to ask any questions at dinner, but she 
was too excited to eat anything and kept wrig- 
gling about on her chair regardless of her gov- 
erness' remarks. After dinner, she rushed head- 
long after Anna Mikhdylovna and, dashing at 
her, flung herself on her neck as soon as she 
overtook her in the sitting room. 

"Auntie, darling, do tell me what it is!" 

"Nothing, my dear." 

"No, dearest, sweet one, honey, I won't give 
up I know you know something." 

Anna Mikhaylovna shook her head. 

"You are a little slyboots," she said. 

"A letter from Nik61enka! I'm sure of it!" 
exclaimed Natasha, reading confirmation in 
Anna Mikhaylovna's face. 

"But for God's sake, be careful, you know 
how it may affect your mamma." 



THREE 129 

"I will, I will, only tell mel You won't? Then 
I will go and tell at once." 

Anna Mikhaylovna, in a few words, told her 
the contents of the letter, on condition that 
she should tell no one. 

"No, on my true word of honor," said Nata- 
sha, crossing herself, "I won't tell anyone!" and 
she ran off at once to S6nya. 

"Nik61enka . . . wounded ... a letter," she 
announced in gleeful triumph. 

"Nicholas!" was all Sonya said, instantly 
turning white. 

Natasha, seeing the impression the news of 
her brother's wound produced on S6nya, felt for*' 
the first time the sorrowful side of the news. 

She rushed to S6nya, hugged her, and began 
to cry. 

"A little wound, but he has been made an 
officer; he is well now, he wrote himself," said 
she through her tears. 

"There now! It's true that all you women 
are crybabies," remarked Pe*tya, pacing the 
room with large, resolute strides. "Now I'm 
very glad, very glad indeed, that my brother 
has distinguished himself so. You are all blub- 
berers and understand nothing." 

Natasha smiled through her tears. 

"You haven't read the letter?" asked Sonya. 

"No, but she said that it was all over and 
that he's now an officer." 

"Thank God!" said S6nya, crossing herself. 
"But perhaps she deceived you. Let us go to 
Mamma." 

Pdtya paced the room in silence for a time. 

"If I'd been in Nik61enka's place I would 
have killed even more of those Frenchmen," 
he said. "What nasty brutes they are! I'd have 
killed so many that there'd have been a heap 
of them." 

"Hold your tongue, P(hya, what a goose you 
are!" 

"I'm not a goose, but they are who cry about 
trifles," said Pdtya. 

"Do you remember him?" Natdsha suddenly 
asked, after a moment's silence. 

S6nya smiled. 

"Do I remember Nicholas?" 

"No, S6nya, but do you remember so that 
you remember him perfectly, remember every- 
thing?" said Natdsha, with an expressive ges- 
ture, evidently wishing to give her words a very 
definite meaning. "I remember Nik61enka too, 
I remember him well," she said. "But I don't 
remember Borfs. I don't remember him a bit." 

"What! You don't remember Boris?" asked 
S6nya in surprise. 



130 



WAR AND PEACE 



"It's not that I don't rememberI know what 
he is like, but not as I remember Nik61enka. 
HimI just shut my eyes and remember, but 
Boris . . . No!" (She shut her eyes.) "No! there's 
nothing at all." 

"Oh, Natdsha!" said S6nya, looking ecstati- 
cally and earnestly at her friend as if she did 
-ot consider her worthy to hear what she meant 
> say and as if she were saying it to someone 
Ise, with whom joking was out of the ques- 
[on, "I am in love with your brother once for 
11 and, whatever may happen to him or to me, 
hall never cease to love him as long as I live." 

Natdsha looked at S6nya with wondering 

nd inquisitive eyes, and said nothing. She felt 

lat Sonya was speaking the truth, that there 

ras such love as S6nya was speaking of. But 

_ Jatdsha had not yet felt anything like it. She 

believed it could be, but did not understand it. 

"Shall you write to him?" she asked. 

S6nya became thoughtful. The question of 
how to write to Nicholas, and whether she 
ought to write, tormented her. Now that he 
was already an officer and a wounded hero, 
would it be right to remind him of herself and, 
as it might seem, of the obligations to her he 
had taken on himself? 

"I don't know. I think if he writes, I will 
write too," she said, blushing. 

"And you won't feel ashamed to write to 
him?" 

S6nya smiled. 

"No." 

"And I should be ashamed to write to Boris. 
I'm not going to." 

"Why should you be ashamed?" 

"Well, I don't know. It's awkward and 
would make me ashamed." 

"And I know why she'd be ashamed," said 
Pe'tya, offended by Natasha's previous remark. 
"It's because she was in love with that fat one 
in spectacles" (that was how Ptya described 
his namesake, the new Count Bezukhov) "and 
now she's in love with that singer" (he meant 
Natdsha's Italian singing master), "that's why 
she's ashamed!" 

"Ptya, you're a stupid!" said Natdsha. 

"Not more stupid than you, madam," said 
the nine-year-old Ptya, with the air of an old 
brigadier. 

The countess had been prepared by Anna 
Mikhdylovna's hints at dinner. On retiring to 
her own room, she sat in an armchair, her eyes 
fixed on a miniature portrait of her son on the 
lid of a snuffbox, while the tears kept coming 
into her eyes. Anna Mikhdylovna, with the let- 



ter, came on tiptoe to the countess' door and 
paused. 

"Don't come in," she said to the old count 
who was following her, "Come later." And she 
went in, closing the door behind her. 

The count put his ear to the keyhole and lis- 
tened. 

At first he heard the sound of indifferent 
voices, then Anna Mikhdylovna's voice alone 
in a long speech, then a cry, then silence, then 
both voices together with glad intonations, 
and then footsteps. Anna Mikhdylovna opened 
the door. Her face wore the proud expression 
of a surgeon who has just performed a difficult 
operation and admits the public to appreciate 
his skill. 

"It is donel" she said to the count, pointing 
triumphantly to the countess, who sat holding 
in one hand the snuffbox with its portrait and 
in the other the letter, and pressing them al- 
ternately to her lips. 

When she saw the count, she stretched out 
her arms to him, embraced his bald head, over 
which she again looked at the letter and the 
portrait, and in order to press them again to 
her lips, she slightly pushed away the bald 
head. Ve>a, Natasha, S6nya, and Ptya now en- 
tered the room, and the reading of the letter 
began. After a brief description of the cam- 
paign and the two battles in which he had tak- 
en part, and his promotion, Nicholas said that 
he kissed his father's and mother's hands ask- 
ing for their blessing, and that he kissed Vra, 
Natdsha, and PiHya. Besides that, he sent greet- 
ings to Monsieur Schelling, Madame Schoss, 
and his old nurse, and asked them to kiss for 
him "dear S6nya, whom he loved and thought 
of just the same as ever." When she heard this 
S6nya blushed so that tears came into her eyes 
and, unable to bear the looks turned upon her, 
ran away into the dancing hall, whirled round 
it at full speed with her dress puffed out like a 
balloon, and, flushed and smiling, plumped 
down on the floor. The countess was crying. 

"Why are you crying, Mamma?" asked Vdra. 
"From all he says one should be glad and not 
cry." 

This was quite true, but the count, the count- 
ess, and Natasha looked at her reproachfully. 
"And who is it she takes after?" thought the 
countess. 

Nicholas' letter was read over hundreds of 
times, and those who were considered worthy 
to hear it had to come to the countess, for she 
did not let it out of her hands. The tutors came, 
and the nurses, and Dmitri, and several ac 



BOOK THREE 



quaintances, and the countess reread the letter 
each time with fresh pleasure and each time 
discovered in it fresh proofs of Nik61enka's vir- 
tues. How strange, how extraordinary, how joy- 
ful it seemed, that her son, the scarcely per- 
ceptible motion of whose tiny limbs she had 
felt twenty years ago within her, that son about 
whom she used to have quarrels with the too- 
indulgent count, that son who had first learned 
to say "pear" and then "granny," that this son 
should now be away in a foreign land amid 
strange surroundings, a manly warrior doing 
some kind of man's work of his own, without 
help or guidance. The universal experience of 
ages, showing that children do grow impercep- 
tibly from the cradle to manhood, did not exist 
for the countess. Her son's growth toward man- 
hood, at each of its stages, had seemed as extra- 
ordinary to her as if there had never existed 
the millions of human beings who grew up in 
the same way. As twenty years before, it seemed 
impossible that the little creature who lived 
somewhere under her heart would ever cry, 
suck her breast, and begin to speak, so now she 
could not believe that that little creature could 
be this strong, brave man, this model son and 
officer that, judging by this letter, he now was. 

"What a style! How charmingly he describes!" 
said she, reading the descriptive part of the let- 
ter. "And what a soul! Not a word about him- 
self. . . . Not a word! About some Denisov or 
other, though he himself, I dare say, is braver 
than any of them. He says nothing about his 
sufferings. What a heart! How like him it is! 
And how he has remembered everybody! Not 
forgetting anyone. I always said when he was 
only so high I always said . . ." 

For more than a week preparations were be- 
ing made, rough drafts of letters to Nicholas 
from all the household were written and copied 
out, while under the supervision of the count- 
ess and the solicitude of the count, money and 
all things necessary for the uniform and equip- 
ment of the newly commissioned officer were 
collected. Anna Mikhaylovna, practical wom- 
an that she was, had even managed by favor 
with army authorities to secure advantageous 
means of communication for herself and her 
son . She had opportunities of sending her letters 
to the Grand Duke Constan tine Pdvlovich, who 
commanded the Guards. The Rost6vs supposed 
that The Russian Guards, A broad, was quite a 
definite address, and that if a letter reached 
the Grand Duke in command of the Guards 
there was no reason why it should not reach 
the Pavlograd regiment, which was presuma- 



bly somewhere in the same neighborhood. And 
so it was decided to send the letters and money 
by the Grand Duke's courier to Boris and Boris 
was to forward them to Nicholas. The letters 
were from the old count, the countess, Ptya, 
Ve*ra, Natasha, and S6nya, and finally there 
were six thousand rubles for his outfit and vari- 
ous other things the old count sent to his son. 

CHAPTER VII 

ON THE twelfth of November, Kutiizov's active 
army, in camp before Olmiitz, was preparing 
to be reviewed next day by the two Emperors 
the Russian and the Austrian. The Guards, 
just arrived from Russia, spent the night ten 
miles from Olmiitz and next morning were to 
come straight to the review, reaching the field 
at Olmiitz by ten o'clock. 

That day Nicholas Rost6v received a letter 
from Borfs, telling him that the Ismaylov regi- 
ment was quartered for the night ten miles 
from Olmiitz and that he wanted to see him as 
he had a letter and money for him. Rostov was 
particularly in need of money now that the 
troops, after their active service, were stationed 
near Olmiitz and the camp swarmed with well- 
provisioned sutlers and Austrian Jews offering 
all sorts of tempting wares. The Pavlograds 
held feast after feast, celebrating awards they 
had received for the campaign, and made ex- 
peditions to Olmiitz to visit a certain Caroline 
the Hungarian, who had recently opened ares- 
taurant there with girls as waitresses. Rost6v, 
who had just celebrated his promotion to a 
cornetcy and bought Denfsov's horse, Bedouin, 
was in debt all round, to his comrades and the 
sutlers. On receiving Boris' letter he rode with 
a fellow officer to Olmiitz, dined there, drank 
a bottle of wine, and then set off alone to the 
Guards' camp to find his old playmate. Rost6v 
had not yet had time to get his uniform. He 
had on a shabby cadet jacket, decorated with 
a soldier's cross, equally shabby cadet's riding 
breeches lined with worn leather, and an of- 
ficer's saber with a sword knot. The Don horse 
he was riding was one he had bought from a 
Cossack during the campaign, and he wore a 
crumpled hussar cap stuck jauntily back on 
one side of his head. As he rode up to the camp 
he thought how he would impress Borfs and all 
his comrades of the Guards by his appearance 
that of a fighting hussar who had been under 
fire. 

The Guards had made their whole march as 
if on a pleasure trip, parading their cleanli- 
ness and discipline. They had come by easy 



WAR AND PEACE 



stages, their knapsacks conveyed on carts, and 
the Austrian authorities had provided excel- 
lent dinners for the officers at every halting 
place. The regiments had entered and left the 
town with their bands playing, and by the 
Grand Duke's orders the men had marched all 
the way instep (a practice on which the Guards 
prided themselves), the officers on foot and at 
their proper posts. Boris had been quartered, 
and had marched all the way, with Berg who 
was already in command of a company. Berg, 
who had obtained his captaincy during the 
campaign, had gained the confidence of his 
superiors by his promptitude and accuracy and 
had arranged his money matters very satisfac- 
torily. Boris, during the campaign, had made 
the acquaintance of many persons who might 
prove useful to him, and by a letter of recom- 
mendation he had brought from Pierre had be- 
come acquainted with Prince Andrew Bolk6n- 
ski, through whom he hoped to obtain a post 
on the commander in chief's staff. Berg and 
Boris, having rested after yesterday's march, 
were sitting, clean and neatly dressed, at a 
round table in the clean quarters allotted to 
them, playing chess. Berg held a smoking pipe 
between his knees. Boris, in the accurate way 
characteristic of him, was building a little pyra- 
mid of chessmen with his delicate white fingers 
while awaiting Berg's move, and watched his 
opponent's face, evidently thinking about the 
game as he always thought only of whatever he 
was engaged on. 

"Well, how are you going to get out of that?" 
he remarked. 

"We'll try to," replied Berg, touching a 
pawn and then removing his hand. 

At that moment the door opened. 

"Here he is at last!" shouted Rost6v. "And 
Berg too! Oh, you petisenfans, allay cushay 
dormir!" * he exclaimed, imitating his Russian 
nurse's French, at which he and Boris used to 
laugh long ago. 

"Dear me, how you have changed!" 

Boris rose to meet Rost6v, but in doing so 
did not omit to steady and replace some chess- 
men that were falling. He was about to em- 
brace his friend, but Nicholas avoided him. 
With that peculiar feeling of youth, that dread 
of beaten tracks, and wish to express itself in a 
manner different from that of its elders which 
is often insincere, Nicholas wished to do some- 
thing special on meeting his friend. He wanted 
to pinch him, push him, do anything but kiss 
hima thing everybody did. But notwithstand- 

1 "Little children, go to bed and sleep."-TR. 



ing this, Boris embraced him in a quiet, friend- 
ly way and kissed him three times. 

They had not met for nearly half a year and, 
being at the age when young men take their 
first steps on life's road, each saw immense 
changes in the other, quite a new reflection of 
the society in which they had taken those first 
steps. Both had changed greatly since they last 
met and both were in a hurry to show the 
changes that had taken place in them. 

"Oh, you damned dandies! Clean and fresh 
as if you'd been to a fete, not like us sinners of 
the line," cried Rost6v, with martial swagger 
and with baritone notes in his voice, new to 
Boris, pointing to his own mud-bespattered 
breeches. The German landlady, hearing Ros- 
tov's loud voice, popped her head in at the 
door. 

"Eh, is she pretty?" he asked with a wink. 

"Why do you shout so? You'll frighten them ! " 
said Boris. "I did not expect you today," he 
added. "I only sent you the note yesterday by 
Bolk6nski an adjutant of Kutuzov's, who's a 
friend of mine. I did not think he would get it 

to you so quickly Well, how are you? Been 

under fire already?" asked Boris. 

Without answering, Rostov shook the sol- 
dier's Cross of St. George fastened to the cord- 
ing of his uniform and, indicating a bandaged 
arm, glanced at Berg with a smile. 

"As you see," he said. 

"Indeed? Yes, yes!" said Boris, with a smile. 
"And we too have had a splendid march. You 
know, of course, that His Imperial Highness 
rode with our regiment all the time, so that we 
had every comfort and every advantage. What 
receptions we had in Poland! What dinners 
and balls! I can't tell you. And the Tsarvich 
was very gracious to all our officers." 

And the two friends told each other of their 
doings, the one of his hussar revels and life in 
the fighting line, the other of the pleasures 
and advantages of service under members of 
the Imperial family. 

"Oh, you Guards!" said Rost6v. "I say, send 
for some wine." 

Boris made a grimace. 

"If you really want it," said he. 

He went to his bed, drew a purse from un- 
der the clean pillow, and sent for wine. 

"Yes, and I have some money and a letter to 
give you," he added. 

Rost6v took the letter and, throwing the 
money on the sofa, put both arms on the table 
and began to read. After reading a few lines, 
he glanced angrily at Berg, then, meeting his 



BOOK THREE 



133 



eyes, hid his face behind the letter. 

"Well, they've sent you a tidy sum," said 
Berg, eying the heavy purse that sank into the 
sofa. "As for us, Count, -we get along on our 
pay. I can tell you for myself . . ." 

"I say, Berg, my dear fellow," said Rost6v, 
"when you get a letter from home and meet 
one of your own people whom you want to 
talk everything over with, and I happen to be 
there, I'll go at once, to be out of your way! 
Do go somewhere, anywhere ... to the devil 1" 
he exclaimed, and immediately seizing him by 
the shoulder and looking amiably into his face, 
evidently wishing to soften the rudeness of his 
words, he added, "Don't be hurt, my dear fel- 
low; you know I speak from my heart as to an 
old acquaintance." 

"Oh, don't mention it, Count! I quite un- 
derstand," said Berg, getting up and speaking 
in a muffled and guttural voice. 

"Go across to our hosts: they invited you," 
added Boris. 

Berg put on the cleanest of coats, without a 
spot or speck of dust, stood before a looking 
glass and brushed the hair on his temples up- 
wards, in the way affected by the Emperor 
Alexander, and, having assured himself from 
the way Rostov looked at it that his coat had 
been noticed, left the room with a pleasant 
smile. 

"Oh dear, what a beast I am!" muttered Ros- 
tov, as he read the letter. 

"Why?" 

"Oh, what a pig I am, not to have written 
and to have given them such a fright! Oh, what 
a pig I am!" he repeated, flushing suddenly. 
"Well, have you sent Gabriel for some wine? 
All right let's have some!" 

In the letter from his parents was enclosed a 
letter of recommendation to Bagrati6n which 
the old countess at Anna Mikhdylovna's advice 
had obtained through an acquaintance and 
sent to her son, asking him to take it to its des- 
tination and make use of it. 

"What nonsense! Much I need it!" said Ros- 
t6v, throwing the letter under the table. 

"Why have you thrown that away?" asked 
Boris. 

"It is some letter of recommendation . . . 
what the devil do I want it for!" 

"Why 'What the devil'?" said Boris, picking 
it up and reading the address. "This letter 
would be of great use to you." 

"I want nothing, and I won't be anyone's 
adjutant." 

"Why not?" inquired Boris. 



"It's a lackey's job!" 

"You are still the same dreamer, I see," re- 
marked Boris, shaking his head. 

"And you're still the same diplomatist! But 
that's not the point. . . . Come, how are you?" 
asked Rost6v. 

"Well, as you see. So far everything's all 
right, but I confess I should much like to be an 
adjutant and not remain at the front." 

"Why?" 

"Because when once a man starts on military 
service, he should try to make as successful a 
career of it as possible." 

"Oh, that's it!" said Rost6v, evidently think- 
ing of something else. 

He looked intently and inquiringly into his 
friend's eyes, evidently trying in vain to find 
the answer to some question. 

Old Gabriel brought in the wine. 

"Shouldn't we now send for Berg?" asked 
Boris. "He would drink with you. I can't." 

"Well, send for him . . . and how do you get 
on with that German?" asked Rost6v, with a 
contemptuous smile. 

"He is a very, very nice, honest, and pleasant 
fellow," answered Boris. 

Again Rost6v looked intently into Boris* 
eyes and sighed. Berg returned, and over the 
bottle of wine conversation between the three 
officers became animated. The Guardsmen told 
Rost6v of their march and how they had been 
made much of in Russia, Poland, and abroad. 
They spoke of the sayings and doings of their 
commander, the Grand Duke, and told stories 
of his kindness and irascibility. Berg, as usual, 
kept silent when the subject did not relate to 
himself, but in connection with the stories of 
the Grand Duke's quick temper he related with 
gusto how in Galicia he had managed to deal 
with the Grand Duke when the latter made a 
tour of the regiments and was annoyed at the 
irregularity of a movement. With a pleasant 
smile Berg related how the Grand Duke had 
ridden up to him in a violent passion, shout- 
ing: "Arnautsl" 1 ("Arnauts" was the Tsare"- 
vich's favorite expression when he was in a 
rage) and called for the company commander, 

"Would you believe it, Count, I was not at 
all alarmed, because I knew I was right. With- 
out boasting, you know, I may say that I know 
the Army Orders by heart and know the Regu- 
lations as well as I do the Lord's Prayer. So, 
Count, there never is any negligence in my 

1 Arnauts is a Turkish name for the Albanians, 
who supplied the Turks with irregular cavalry. 

-TR. 



'34 



WAR AND PEACE 



company, and so my conscience was at ease. I 

came forward " (Berg stood up and showed 

how he presented himself, with his hand to his 
cap, and really it would have been difficult for 
a face to express greater respect and self- 
complacency than his did.) "Well, he stormed 
at me, as the saying is, stormed andstormedand 
stormed! It was not a matter of life but rather 
of death, as the saying is. 'Albanians!' and 'dev- 
ils!' and 'To Siberia!' " said Berg with a saga- 
cious smile. "I knew I was in the right so I kept 
silent; was not that best, Count? . . . 'Hey, are 
you dumb?' he shouted. Still I remained silent. 
And what do you think, Count? The next day 
it was not even mentioned in the Orders of the 
Day. That's what keeping one's head means. 
That's the way, Count," said Berg, lighting his 
pipe and emitting rings of smoke. 

"Yes, that was fine," said Rostov, smiling. 

But Boris noticed that he was preparing to 
make fun of Berg, and skillfully changed the 
subject. He asked him to tell them how and 
where he got his wound. This pleased Rost6v 
and he began talking about it, and as he went 
on became more and more animated. He told 
them of his Schon Grabern affair, just as those 
who have taken part in a battle generally do 
describe it, that is, as they would like it to have 
been, as they have heard it described by others, 
and as sounds well, but not at all as it really 
was. Rost6v was a truthful young man and 
would on no account have told a deliberate lie. 
He began his story meaning to tell everything 
just as it happened, but imperceptibly, invol- 
untarily, and inevitably he lapsed into false- 
hood. If he had told the truth to his hearers 
who like himself had often heard stories of at- 
tacks and had formed a definite idea of what 
an attack was and were expecting to hear just 
such a story they would either not have be- 
lieved him or, still worse, would have thought 
that Rostov was himself to blame since what 
generally happens to the narrators of cavalry 
attacks had not happened to him. He could 
not tell them simply that everyone went at a 
trot and that he fell off his horse and sprained 
his arm and then ran as hard as he could from 
a Frenchman into the wood. Besides, to tell 
everything as it really happened, it would have 
been necessary to make an effort of will to tell 
only what happened. It is very difficult to tell 
the truth, and young people are rarely capable 
of it. His hearers expected a story of how be- 
side himself and all aflame with excitement, he 
had flown like a storm at the square, cut his 
way in, slashed right and left, how his saber 



had tasted flesh and he had fallen exhausted, 
and so on. And so he told them all that. 

In the middle of his story, just as he was 
saying: "You cannot imagine what a strange 
frenzy one experiences duringanattack/'Prince 
Andrew, whom Boris was expecting, entered 
the room. Prince Andrew, who liked to help 
young men, was flattered by being asked for 
his assistance and being well disposed toward 
Boris, who had managed to please him the day 
before, he wished to do what the young man 
wanted. Having been sent with papers from 
Kutii/ov to the Tsardvich, he looked in on 
Boris, hoping to find him alone. When he came 
in and saw an hussar of the line recounting his 
military exploits (Prince Andrew could not 
endure that sort of man), he gave Boris a pleas- 
ant smile, frowned as with half-closed eyes 
he looked at Rost6v, bowed slightly and wea- 
rily, and sat down languidly on the sofa: he 
felt it unpleasant to have dropped in on bad 
company. Rostov flushed up on noticing this, 
but he did not care, this was a mere stran- 
ger. Glancing, however, at Boris, he saw that 
he too seemed ashamed of the hussar of the 
line. 

In spite of Prince Andrew's disagreeable, 
ironical tone, in spite of the contempt with 
which Rostov, from his fighting army point of 
view, regarded all these little adjutants on the 
staff, of whom the newcomer was evidently one, 
Rost6v felt confused, blushed, and became si- 
lent. Boris inquired what news there might be 
on the staff, and what, without indiscretion, 
one might ask about our plans. 

"We shall probably advance," replied Bol- 
k6nski, evidently reluctant to say more in the 
presence of a stranger. 

Berg took the opportunity to ask, with great 
politeness, whether, as was rumored, the allow- 
ance of forage money to captains of companies 
would be doubled. To this Prince Andrew an- 
swered with a smile that he could give no 
opinion on such an important government or- 
der, and Berg laughed gaily. 

"As to your business," Prince Andrew con- 
tinued, addressing Boris, "we will talk of it 
later" (and he looked round at Rost6v). "Come 
to me after the review and we will do what is 
possible." 

And, having glanced round the room, Prince 
Andrew turned to Rostov, whose state of 
unconquerable childish embarrassment now 
changing to anger he did not condescend to 
notice, and said: "I think you were talking of 
the Schon Grabern affair? Were you there?" 



BOOK THREE 



"I was there," said Rost6v angrily, as if in- 
tending to insult the aide-de-camp. 

Bolk6nski noticed the hussar's state of mind, 
and it amused him. With a slightly contemptu- 
ous smile, he said: "Yes, there are many stories 
now told about that affair!" 

"Yes, stories!" repeated Rost6v loudly, look- 
ing with eyes suddenly grown furious, now at 
Boris, now at Bolk6nski. "Yes, many stories! 
But our stories are the stories of men who have 
been under the enemy's fire! Our stories have 
some weight, not like the stories of those fel- 
lows on the staff who get rewards without do- 
ing anything!" 

"Of whom you imagine me to be one?" said 
Prince Andrew, with a quiet and particularly 
amiable smile. 

A strange feeling of exasperation and yet of 
respect for this man's self-possession mingled 
at that moment in Rost6v's soul. 

"I am not talking about you," he said, "I 
don't know you and, frankly, I don't want to. 
I am speaking of the staff in general." 

"And I will tell you this," Prince Andrew in- 
terrupted in a tone of quiet authority, "you 
wish to insult me, and I am ready to agree with 
you that it would be very easy to do so if you 
haven't sufficient self-respect, but admit that 
the time and place are very badly chosen. In a 
day or two we shall all have to take part in a 
greater and more serious duel, and besides, 
Drubetsk6y, who says he is an old friend of 
yours, is not at all to blame that my face has 
the misfortune to displease you. However," he 
added rising, "you know my name and where 
to find me, but don't forget that I do not re- 
gard either myself or you as having been at all 
insulted, and as a man older than you, my ad- 
vice is to let the matter drop. Well then, on 
Friday after the review I shall expect you, 
Drubetsk6y. Au revoir!" exclaimed Prince An- 
drew, and with a bow to them both he went 
out. 

Only when Prince Andrew was gone did 
Rost6v think of what he ought to have said. 
And he was still more angry at having omitted 
to say it. He ordered his horse at once and, 
coldly taking leave of Boris, rode home. Should 
he go to headquarters next day and challenge 
that affected adjutant, or really let the matter 
drop, was the question that worried him all 
the way. He thought angrily of the pleasure he 
would have at seeing the fright of that small 
and frail but proud man when covered by his 
pistol, and then he felt with surprise that of 
all the men he knew there was none he would 



so much like to have for a friend as that very 
adjutant whom he so hated. 

CHAPTER VIII 

THE DAY AFTER Rost6v had been to see Boris, 
a review was held of the Austrian and Russian 
troops, both those freshly arrived from Russia 
and those who had been campaigning under 
Kutuzov. The two Emperors, the Russian with 
his heir the Tsardvich, and the Austrian with 
the Archduke, inspected the allied army of 
eighty thousand men. 

From early morning the smart clean troops 
were on the move, forming up on the field be- 
fore the fortress. Now thousands of feet and 
bayonets moved and halted at the officers' com- 
mand, turned with banners flying, formed up 
at intervals, and wheeled round other similar 
masses of infantry in different uniforms; now 
was heard the rhythmic beat of hoofs and the 
jingling of showy cavalry in blue, red, and 
green braided uniforms, with smartly dressed 
bandsmen in front mounted on black, roan, or 
gray horses; then again, spreading out with the 
brazen clatter of the polished shining cannon 
that quivered on the gun carriages and with 
the smell of linstocks, came the artillery which 
crawled between the infantry and cavalry and 
took up its appointed position. Not only the 
generals in full parade uniforms, with their 
thin or thick waists drawn in to the utmost, 
their red necks squeezed into their stiff collars, 
and wearing scarves and all their decorations, 
not only the elegant, pomaded officers, but 
every soldier with his freshly washed and 
shaven face and his weapons clean and pol- 
ished to the utmost, and every horse groomed 
till its coat shone like satin and every hair of 
its wetted mane lay smooth felt that no small 
matter was happening, but an important and 
solemn affair. Every general and every soldier 
was conscious of his own insignificance, aware 
of being but a drop in that ocean of men, and 
yet at thesame time was conscious of his strength 
as a part of that enormous whole. 

From early morning strenuous activities and 
efforts had begun and by ten o'clock all had 
been brought into due order. The ranks were 
drown up on the vast field. The whole army 
was extended in three lines: the cavalry in 
front, behind it the artillery, and behind that 
again the infantry. 

A space like a street was left between each 
two lines of troops. The three parts of that 
army were sharply distinguished: Kutiizov's 
fighting army (with the Pdvlograds on the right 



136 



WAR AND PEACE 



flank of the front); those recently arrived from 
Russia, both Guards and regiments of the line; 
and the Austrian troops. But they all stood in 
the same lines, under one command, and in a 
like order. 

Like wind over leaves ran an excited 
whisper: "They're coming! They're com- 
ing!" Alarmed voices were heard, and a 
stir of final preparation swept over all the 
troops. 

From the direction of Olmiitz in front of 
them, a group was seen approaching. And at 
that moment, though the day was still, a light 
gust of wind blowing over the army slightly 
stirred the streamers on the lances and the un- 
folded standards fluttered against their staffs. 
It looked as if by that slight motion the army 
itself was expressing its joy at the approach of 
the Emperors. One voice was heard shouting: 
"Eyes front!" Then, like the crowing of cocks 
at sunrise, this was repeated by others from 
various sides and all became silent. 

In the deathlike stillness only the tramp of 
horses was heard. This was the Emperors' suites. 
The Emperors rode up to the flank, and the 
trumpets of the first cavalry regiment played 
the general march. It seemed as though not the 
trumpeters were playing, but as if the army it- 
self, rejoicing at the Emperors' approach, had 
naturally burst into music. Amid these sounds, 
only the youthful kindly voice of the Emperor 
Alexander was clearly heard. He gave the words 
of greeting, and the first regiment roared "Hur- 
rah!" so deafeningly, continuously, and joy- 
fully that the men themselves were awed by 
their multitude and the immensity of the pow- 
er they constituted. 

Rostov, standing in the front lines of Kutu- 
zov's army which the Tsar approached first, ex- 
perienced the same feeling as every other man 
in that army: a feeling of self-forgetfulness, a 
proud consciousness of might, and a passion- 
ate attraction to him who was the cause of this 
triumph. 

He felt that at a single word from that man 
all this vast mass (and he himself an insignifi- 
cant atom in it) would go through fire and 
water, commit crime, die, or perform deeds of 
highest heroism, and so he could not but trem- 
ble and his heart stand still at the imminence 
of that word. 

"Hurrah! Hurrah! Hurrah!" thundered 
from all sides, one regiment after another greet- 
ing the Tsar with the strains of the march, and 
then "Hurrah!" . . . Then the general march, 
and again "Hurrah! Hurrah!" growing ever 



stronger and fuller and merging into a deafen- 
ing roar. 

Till the Tsar reached it, each regiment in its 
silence and immobility seemed like a lifeless 
body, but as soon as he came up it became 
alive, its thunder joining the roar of the whole 
line along which he had already passed. 
Through the terrible and deafening roar of 
those voices, amid the square masses of troops 
standing motionless as if turned to stone, hun- 
dreds of riders composing the suites moved 
carelessly but symmetrically and above all free- 
ly, and in front of them two men the Emper- 
ors. Upon them the undivided, tensely passion- 
ate attention of that whole mass of men was 
concentrated. 

The handsome young Emperor Alexander, 
in the uniform of the Horse Guards, wearing 
a cocked hat with its peaks front and back, 
with his pleasant face and resonant though not 
loud voice, attracted everyone's attention. 

Rostov was not far from the trumpeters, and 
with his keen sight had recognized the Tsar 
and watched his approach. When he was with- 
in twenty paces, and Nicholas could clearly 
distinguish every detail of his handsome, hap- 
py young face, he experienced a feeling of tend- 
erness and ecstasy such as he had never be- 
fore known. Every trait and every movement 
of the Tsar's seemed to him enchanting. 

Stopping in front of the Pdvlograds, the Tsar 
said something in French to the Austrian Em- 
peror and smiled. 

Seeing that smile, Rost6v involuntarily smiled 
himself and felt a still stronger flow of love 
for his sovereign. He longed to show that love 
in some way and knowing that this was impos- 
sible was ready to cry. The Tsar called the colo- 
nel of the regiment and said a few words to 
him. 

"Oh God, what would happen to me if the 
Emperor spoke to me?" thought Rost6v. "I 
should die of happiness!" 

The Tsar addressed the officers also: "I thank 
you all, gentlemen, I thank you with my whole 
heart." To Rost6v every word sounded like a 
voice from heaven. How gladly would he have 
died at once for his Tsar! 

"You have earned the St. George's standards 
and will be worthy of them." 

"Oh, to die, to die for him!" thought Rost6v. 

The Tsar said something more which Ros- 
t6v did not hear, and the soldiers, straining 
their lungs, shouted "Hurrah!" 

Rost6v too, bending over his saddle, shouted 
"Hurrah!" with all his might, feeling that he 



BOOK 

would like to injure himself by that shout, if 
only to express his rapture fully. 

The Tsar stopped a few minutes in front of 
the hussars as if undecided. 

"How can the Emperor be undecided?" 
thought Rost6v, but then even this indecision 
appeared to him majestic and enchanting, like 
everything else the Tsar did. 

That hesitation lasted only an instant. The 
Tsar's foot, in the narrow pointed boot then 
fashionable, touched the groin of the bobtailed 
bay mare he rode, his hand in a white glove 
gathered up the reins, and he moved off accom- 
panied by an irregularly swaying sea of aides- 
de-camp. Farther and farther he rode away, 
stopping at other regiments, till at last only 
his white plumes were visible to Rost6v from 
amid the suites that surrounded the Emperors. 

Among the gentlemen of the suite, Rost6v 
noticed Bolk6nski, sitting his horse indolently 
and carelessly. Rost6v recalled their quarrel of 
yesterday and the question presented itself 
whether he ought or ought not to challenge 
Bolk6nski. "Of course not!" he now thought. 
"Is it worth thinking or speaking of it at such 
a moment? At a time of such love, such rap- 
ture, and such self-sacrifice, what do any of our 
quarrels and affronts matter? I love and for- 
give everybody now." 

When the Emperor had passed nearly all 
the regiments, the troops began a ceremonial 
march past him, and Rost6v on Bedouin, re- 
cently purchased from Denfsov, rode past too, 
at the rear of his squadron that is, alone and 
in full view of the Emperor. 

Before he reached him, Rost6v, who was a 
splendid horseman, spurred Bedouin twice 
and successfully put him to the showy trot in 
which the animal went when excited. Bend- 
ing his foaming muzzle to his chest, his tail ex- 
tended, Bedouin, as if also conscious of the 
Emperor's eye upon him, passed splendidly, 
lifting his feet with a high and graceful action, 
as if flying through the air without touching 
the ground. 

Rost6v himself, his legs well back and his 
stomach drawn in and feeling himself one with 
his horse, rode past the Emperor with a frown- 
ing but blissful face "like a vewy devil," as 
Denfsov expressed it. 

"Fine fellows, the Pdvlogradsl" remarked 
the Emperor. 

"My God, how happy I should be if he or- 
dered me to leap into the fire this instant!" 
thought Rost6v. 

When the review was over, the newly ar- 



THREE 137 

rived officers, and also Kuttizov's, collected in 
groups and began to talk about the awards, 
about the Austrians and their uniforms, about 
their lines, about Bonaparte, and how badly 
the latter would fare now, especially if the Es- 
sen corps arrived and Prussia took our side. 

But the talk in every group was chiefly about 
the Emperor Alexander. His every word and 
movement was described with ecstasy. 

They all had but one wish: to advance as 
soon as possible against the enemy under the 
Emperor's command. Commanded by the Em- 
peror himself they could not fail to vanquish 
anyone, be it whom it might: so thought Ros- 
tov and most of the officers after the review. 

All were then more confident of victory than 
the winning of two battles would have made 
them. 

CHAPTER IX 

THE DAY AFTER the review, Boris, in his best 
uniform and with his comrade Berg's best 
wishes for success, rode to Olmiitz to see Bol- 
konski, wishing to profit by his friendliness and 
obtain for himself the best post he could pref- 
erably that of adjutant to some important 
personage, a position in the army which seemed 
to him most attractive. "It is all very well for 
Rost6v, whose father sends him ten thousand 
rubles at a time, to talk about not wishing to 
cringe to anybody and not be anyone's lackey, 
but I who have nothing but my brains have to 
make a career and must not miss opportunities, 
but must avail myself of them!" he reflected. 

He did not find Prince Andrew in Olmiitz 
that day, but the appearance of the town where 
the headquarters and the diplomatic corps 
were stationed and the two Emperors were 
living with their suites, households, and courts 
only strengthened his desire to belong to that 
higher world. 

He knew no one, and despite his smart 
Guardsman's uniform, all these exalted per- 
sonages passing in the streets in their elegant 
carriages with their plumes, ribbons, and med- 
als, both courtiers and military men, seemed 
so immeasurably above him, an insignificant 
officer of the Guards, that they not only did 
not wish to, but simply could not, be aware of 
his existence. At the quarters of the command- 
er in chief, Kutiizov, where he inquired for 
Bolk6nski, all the adjutants and even the or- 
derlies looked at him as if they wished to im- 
press on him that a great many officers like 
him were always coming there and that every- 
body was heartily sick of them. In spite of this, 



138 



WAR AND PEACE 



or rather because of it, next day, November 15, 
after dinner he again went to Olmiitz and, en- 
tering the house occupied by Kutiizov, asked 
for Bolk6nski. Prince Andrew was in and Boris 
was shown into a large hall probably formerly 
used for dancing, but in which five beds now 
stood, and furniture of various kinds: a table, 
chairs, and a clavichord. One adjutant, near- 
est the door, was sitting at the table in a Per- 
sian dressing gown, writing. Another, the red, 
stout Nesvitski, lay on a bed with his arms un- 
der his head, laughing with an officer who had 
sat down beside him. A third was playing a Vi- 
ennese waltz on the clavichord, while a fourth, 
lying on the clavichord, sang the tune. Bol- 
k6nski was not there. None of these gentlemen 
changed his position on seeing Boris. The one 
who was writing and whom Boris addressed 
turned round crossly and told him Bolk6nski 
was on duty and that he should go through the 
door on the left into the reception room if he 
wished to see him. Boris thanked him and went 
to the reception room, where he found some 
ten officers and generals. 

When he entered, Prince Andrew, his eyes 
drooping contemptuously (with that peculiar 
expression of polite weariness which plainly 
says, "If it were not my duty I would not talk 
to you for a moment"), was listening to an old 
Russian general with decorations, who stood 
very erect, almost on tiptoe, with a soldier's 
obsequious expression on his purple face, re- 
porting something. 

"Very well, then, be so good as to wait," said 
Prince Andrew to the general, in Russian, 
speaking with the French intonation he affect- 
ed when he wished to speak contemptuously, 
and noticing Boris, Prince Andrew, paying no 
more heed to the general who ran after him 
imploring him to hear something more, nod- 
ded and turned to him with a cheerful smile. 

At that moment Boris clearly realized what 
he had before surmised, that in the army, be- 
sides the subordination and discipline pre- 
scribed in the military code, which he and the 
others knew in the regiment, there was another, 
more important, subordination, which made 
this tight-laced, purple-faced general wait re- 
spectfully while Captain Prince Andrew, for his 
own pleasure, chose to chat with Lieutenant 
Drubetsk6y. More than ever was Boris re- 
solved to serve in future not according to the 
written code, but under this unwritten law. 
He felt now that merely by having been rec- 
ommended to Prince Andrew he had already 
risen above the general who at the front had 



the power to annihilate him, a lieutenant of 
the Guards. Prince Andrew came up to him 
and took his hand. 

"I am very sorry you did not find me in yes- 
terday. I was fussing about with Germans all 
day. We went with Weyrother to survey the 
dispositions. When Germans start being ac- 
curate, there's no end to it I" 

Boris smiled, as if he understood what Prince 
Andrew was alluding to as something general- 
ly known. But it was the first time he had heard 
Weyrother's name, or even the term "disposi- 
tions." 

"Well, my dear fellow, so you still want to 
be an adjutant? I have been thinking about 
you." 

"Yes, I was thinking" for some reason Boris 
could not help blushing "of asking the com- 
mander in chief. He has had a letter from 
Prince Kurdgin about me. I only wanted to 
ask because I fear the Guards won't be in ac- 
tion," he added as if in apology. 

"All right, all right. We'll talk it over," re- 
plied Prince Andrew. "Only let me report this 
gentleman's business, and I shall be at your 
disposal." 

While Prince Andrew went to report about 
the purple-faced general, that gentleman evi- 
dently not sharing Boris' conception of the ad- 
vantages of the unwritten code of subordina- 
tionlooked so fixedly at the presumptuous 
lieutenant who had prevented his finishing 
what he had to say to the adjutant that Boris 
felt uncomfortable. He turned away and waited 
impatiently for Prince Andrew's return from 
the commander in chief's room. 

"You see, my dear fellow, I have been think- 
ing about you," said Prince Andrew when they 
had gone into the large room where the clavi- 
chord was. "It's no use your going to the com- 
mander in chief. He would say a lot of pleas- 
ant things, ask you to dinner" ("That would 
not be bad as regards the unwritten code," 
thought Boris), "but nothing more would come 
of it. There will soon be a battalion of us aides- 
de-camp and adjutants! But this is what we'll 
do: I have a good friend, an adjutant general 
and an excellent fellow, Prince Dolgorukov; 
and though you may not know it, the fact is 
that now Kutiizov with his staff and all of us 
count for nothing. Everything is now centered 
round the Emperor. So we will go to Dolgoru- 
kov; I have to go there anyhow and I have al- 
ready spoken to him about you. We shall see 
whether he cannot attach you to himself or 
find a place for you somewhere nearer the sun." 



Prince Andrew always became specially keen 
when he had to guide a young man and help 
him to worldly success. Under cover of obtain- 
ing help of this kind for another, which from 
pride he would never accept for himself, he 
kept in touch with the circle which confers suc- 
cess and which attracted him. He very readily 
took up Boris' cause and went with him to Dol- 
goriikov. 

It was late in the evening when they entered 
the palace at Olmiitz occupied by the Emper- 
ors and their retinues. 

That same day a council of war had been 
held in which all the members of the Hof- 
kriegsrath and both Emperors took part. At 
that council, contrary to the views of the old 
generals Kutiizov and Prince Schwartzenberg, 
it had been decided to advance immediately 
and give battle to Bonaparte. The council of 
war was just over when Prince Andrew accom- 
panied by Boris arrived at the palace to find 
Dolgorukov. Everyone at headquarters was still 
under the spell of the day's council, at which 
the party of the young had triumphed. The 
voices of those who counseled delay and ad- 
vised waiting for something else before advanc- 
ing had been so completely silenced and their 
arguments confuted by such conclusive evi- 
dence of the advantages of attacking that what 
had been discussed at the council the coming 
battle and the victory that would certainly re- 
sult from it no longer seemed to be in the 
future but in the past. All the advantages were 
on our side. Our enormous forces, undoubted- 
ly superior to Napoleon's, were concentrated 
in one place, the troops inspired by the Em- 
perors' presence were eager for action. The 
strategic position where the operations would 
take place was familiar in all its details to the 
Austrian General Weyrother: a lucky accident 
had ordained that the Austrian army should 
maneuver the previous year on the very fields 
where the French had now to be fought; the 
adjacent locality was known and shown in 
every detail on the maps, and Bonaparte, evi- 
dently weakened, was undertaking nothing. 

Dolgorukov, one of the warmest advocates 
of an attack, had just returned from the coun- 
cil, tired and exhausted but eager and proud 
of the victory that had been gained. Prince 
Andrew introduced his prot^g^, but Prince 
Dolgonikov politely and firmly pressing his 
hand said nothing to Boris and, evidently un- 
able to suppress the thoughts which were up- 
permost in his mind at that moment, addressed 
Prince Andrew in French, 



BOOK THREE 139 

"Ah, my dear fellow, what a battle we have 



gained! God grant that the one that will result 
from it will be as victorious! However, my dear 
fellow," he said abruptly and eagerly, "I must 
confess to having been unjust to the Austrians 
and especially to Weyrother. What exactitude, 
what minuteness, what knowledge of the local- 
ity, what foresight for every eventuality, every 
possibility even to the smallest detail 1 No, my 
dear fellow, no conditions better than our pres- 
ent ones could have been devised. This combi- 
nation of Austrian precision with Russian val- 
orwhat more could be wished for?" 

"So the attack is definitely resolved on?" 
asked Bolk6nski. 

"And do you know, my dear fellow, it seems 
to me that Bonaparte has decidedly lost his 
bearings, you know that a letter was received 
from him today for the Emperor." Dolgorukov 
smiled significantly. 

"Is that so? And what did he say?" inquired 
Bolkonski. 

"What can he say? Tra-di-ri-di-ra and so on 
. . . merely to gain time. I tell you he is in our 
hands, that's certain! But what was most amus- 
ing," he continued, with a sudden, good-na- 
tured laugh, "was that we could not think how 
to address the reply! If not as 'Consul' and of 
course not as 'Emperor,' it seemed to me it 
should be to 'General Bonaparte.' " 

"But between not recognizing him as Em- 
peror and calling him General Bonaparte, 
there is a difference," remarked Bolk6nski. 

"That's just it," interrupted Dolgoriikov 
quickly, laughing. "You know Bilfbin he's a 
very clever fellow. He suggested addressing 
him as 'Usurper and Enemy of Mankind.' " 

Dolgorukov laughed merrily. 

"Only that?" said Bolk6nski. 

"All the same, it was Bilibin who found a 
suitable form for the address. He is a wise and 
clever fellow." 

"What was it?" 

"To the Head of the French Government 
. . . Au chef du gouvernement franfais," said 
Dolgorukov, with grave satisfaction. "Good, 
wasn't it?" 

"Yes, but he will dislike it extremely," said 
Bolk6nski. 

"Oh yes, very much! My brother knows him, 
he's dined with him the present Emperor- 
more than once in Paris, and tells me he never 
met a more cunning or subtle diplomatist 
you know, a combination of French adroitness 
and Italian play-acting! Do you know the tale 
about him and Count Mark6v? Count Mark6v 



140 



WAR AND PEACE 



was the only man who knew how to handle 
him. You know the story of the handkerchief? 
It is delightful!" 

And the talkative Dolgorukov, turning now 
to Boris, now to Prince Andrew, told how 
Bonaparte wishing to test Mark6v, our ambas- 
sador, purposely dropped a handkerchief in 
front of him and stood looking at Mark6v, 
probably expecting Mark6v to pick it up for 
him, and how Mark6v immediately dropped 
his own beside it and picked it up without 
touching Bonaparte's. 

"Delightful!" said Bolk6nski. "But I have 
come to you, Prince, as a petitioner on behalf 
of this young man. You see . . ." but before 
Prince Andrew could finish, an aide-de-camp 
came in to summon Dolgorukov to the Emper- 
or. 

"Oh, what a nuisance," said Dolgorukov, 
getting up hurriedly and pressing the hands of 
Prince Andrew and Boris. "You know I should 
be very glad to do all in my power both for you 
and for this dear young man." Again he pressed 
the hand of the latter with an expression of 
good-natured, sincere, and animated levity. 
"But you see . . . another time!" 

Boris was excited by the thought of being so 
close to the higher powers as he felt himself to 
be at that moment. He was conscious that here 
he was in contact with the springs that set in 
motion the enormous movements of the mass 
of which in his regiment he felt himself a tiny, 
obedient, and insignificant atom. They fol- 
lowed Prince Dolgorukov out into the corri- 
dor and met coming out of the door of the 
Emperor's room by which Dolgoriikov had en- 
tereda short man in civilian clothes with a 
clever face and sharply projecting jaw which, 
without spoiling his face, gave him a peculiar 
vivacity and shiftiness of expression. This short 
man nodded to Dolgorukov as to an intimate 
friend and stared at Prince Andrew with cool 
intensity, walking straight toward him and 
evidently expecting him to bow or to step out 
of his way. Prince Andrew did neither: a look 
of animosity appeared on his face and the oth- 
er turned away and went down the side of the 
corridor. 

"Who was that?" asked Boris. 

"He is one of the most remarkable, but to 
me most unpleasant of men the Minister of 
Foreign Affairs, Prince Adam Czartoryski. . . . 
It is such men as he who decide the fate of 
nations," added Bolk6nski with a sigh he 
could not suppress, as they passed out of the 
palace. 



Next day, the army began its campaign, and 
up to tl\e very battle of Austerlitz, Boris was 
unable to see either Prince Andrew or Dol- 
goriikov again and remained for a while with 
the Ismdylov regiment. 

CHAPTER X 

AT DAWN on the sixteenth of November, Denf- 
sov's squadron, in which Nicholas Rost6v served 
and which was in Prince Bagrati6n's detach- 
ment, moved from the place where it had 
spent the night, advancing into action as ar- 
ranged, and after going behind other columns 
for about two thirds of a mile was stopped on 
the highroad. Rost6v saw the Cossacks and 
then the first and second squadrons of hussars 
and infantry battalions and artillery pass by 
and go forward and then Generals Bagrati6n 
and Dolgorukov ride past with their adjutants. 
All the fear before action which he had experi- 
enced as previously, all the inner struggle to 
conquer that fear, all his dreams of distin- 
guishing himself as a true hussar in this battle, 
had been wasted. Their squadron remained in 
reserve and Nicholas Rost6v spent that day in 
a dull and wretched mood. At nine in the morn- 
ing, he heard firing in front and shouts of hur- 
rah, and saw wounded being brought back 
(there were not many of them), and at last he 
saw how a whole detachment of French caval- 
ry was brought in, convoyed by a sdtnya of 
Cossacks. Evidently the affair was over and, 
though not big, had been a successful engage- 
ment. The men and officers returning spoke 
of a brilliant victory, of the occupation of the 
town of Wischau and the capture of a whole 
French squadron. The day was bright and sun- 
ny after a sharp night frost, and the cheerful 
glitter of that autumn day was in keeping with 
the news of victory which was conveyed, not 
only by the tales of those who had taken part 
in it, but also by the joyful expression on the 
faces of soldiers, officers, generals, and adju- 
tants, as they passed Rostov going or coming. 
And Nicholas, who had vainly suffered all the 
dread that precedes a battle and had spent 
that happy day in inactivity, was all the more 
depressed. 

"Come here, Wost6v. Let's dwink to dwown 
our gwief!" shouted Denisov, who had settled 
down by the roadside with a flask and some 
food. 

The officers gathered round Denfsov's can- 
teen, eating and talking. 

"There! They are bringing another!" cried 
one of the officers, indicating a captive French 



BOOK THREE 



141 



dragoon who was being brought in on foot by 
two Cossacks. 

One of them was leading by the bridle a fine 
large French horse he had taken from the pris- 
oner. 

"Sell us that horse!" Denfsov called out to 
the Cossacks. 

"If you like, your honor!" 

The officers got up and stood round the Cos- 
sacks and their prisoner. The French dragoon 
was a young Alsatian who spoke French with a 
German accent. He was breathless with agita- 
tion, his face was red, and when he heard some 
French spoken he at once began speaking to 
the officers, addressing first one, then another. 
He said he would not have been taken, it was 
not his fault but the corporal's who had sent 
him to seize some horsecloths, though he had 
told him the Russians were there. And at every 
word he added: "But don't hurt my little 
horse!" and stroked the animal. It was plain 
that he did not quite grasp where he was. Now 
he excused himself for having been taken pris- 
oner and now, imagining himself before his 
own officers, insisted on his soldierly discipline 
and zeal in the service. He brought with him 
into our rearguard all the freshness of atmos- 
phere of the French army, which was so alien 
to us. 

The Cossacks sold the horse for two gold 
pieces, and Rost6v, being the richest of the of- 
ficers now that he had received his money, 
bought it. 

"But don't hurt my little horse!" said the 
Alsatian good-naturedly to Rost6v when the 
animal was handed over to the hussar. 

Rost6v smilingly reassured the dragoon and 
gave him money. 

"Alley! Alley!" said the Cossack, touching 
the prisoner's arm to make him go on. 

"The Emperor! The Emperor!" was sud- 
denly heard among the hussars. 

All began to run and bustle, and Rost6v saw 
coming up the road behind him several riders 
with white plumes in their hats. In a moment 
everyone was in his place, waiting. 

Rost6v did not know or remember how he 
ran to his place and mounted. Instantly his re- 
gret at not having been in action and his de- 
jected mood amid people of whom he was 
weary had gone, instantly every thought of 
himself had vanished. He was filled with hap- 
piness at his nearness to the Emperor. He felt 
that this nearness by itself made up to him for 
the day he had lost. He was happy as a lover 
when the longed-for moment of meeting ar- 



rives. Not daring to look round and without 
looking round, he was ecstatically conscious 
of his approach. He felt it not only from the 
sound of the hoofs of the approaching caval- 
cade, but because as he drew near everything 
grew brighter, more joyful, more significant, 
and more festive around him. Nearer and near- 
er to Rost6v came that sun shedding beams of 
mild and majestic light around, and already 
he felt himself enveloped in those beams, he 
heard his voice, that kindly, calm, and majestic 
voice that was yet so simple! And as if in ac- 
cord with Rostov's feeling, there was a deathly 
stillness amid which was heard the Emperor's 
voice. 

"The Pavlograd hussars?" he inquired. 

"The reserves, sire!" replied a voice, a very 
human one compared to that which had said: 
"The Pdvlograd hussars?" 

The Emperor drew level with Rostov and 
halted. Alexander's face was even more beau- 
tiful than it had been three days before at the 
review. It shone with such gaiety and youth, 
such innocent youth, that it suggested the live- 
liness of a fourteen-year-old boy, and yet it was 
the face of the majestic Emperor. Casually, 
while surveying the squadron, the Emperor's 
eyes met Rostov's and rested on them for not 
more than two seconds. Whether or no the 
Emperor understood what was going on in 
Rostov's soul (it seemed to Rostov that he un- 
derstood everything), at any rate his light-blue 
eyes gazed for about two seconds into Rost6v's 
face. A gentle, mild light poured from them. 
Then all at once he raised his eyebrows, ab- 
ruptly touched his horse with his left foot, and 
galloped on. 

The younger Emperor could not restrain his 
wish to be present at the battle and, in spite 
of the remonstrances of his courtiers, at twelve 
o'clock left the third column with which he 
had been and galloped toward the vanguard. 
Before he came up with the hussars, several 
adjutants met him with news of the successful 
result of the action. 

This battle, which consisted in the capture 
of a French squadron, was represented as a 
brilliant victory over the French, and so the 
Emperor and the whole army, especially while 
the smoke hung over the battlefield, believed 
that the French had been defeated and were 
retreating against their will. A few minutes 
after the Emperor had passed, the Pavlograd 
division was ordered to advance. In Wischau 
itself, a petty German town, Rostov saw the 
Emperor again. In the market place, where 



142 



WAR AND PEACE 



there had been some rather heavy firing before 
the Emperor's arrival, lay several killed and 
wounded soldiers whom there had not been 
time to move. The Emperor, surrounded by 
his suite of officers and courtiers, was riding a 
bobtailed chestnut mare, a different one from 
that which he had ridden at the review, and 
bending to one side he gracefully held a gold 
lorgnette to his eyes and looked at a soldier 
who lay prone, with blood on his uncovered 
head. The wounded soldier was so dirty, coarse, 
and revolting that his proximity to the Emper- 
or shocked Rostov. Rost6v saw how the Em- 
peror's rather round shoulders shuddered as 
if a cold shiver had run down them, how his 
left foot began convulsively tapping the horse's 
side with the spur, and how the well-trained 
horse looked round unconcerned and did not 
stir. An adjutant, dismounting, lifted the sol- 
dier under the arms to place him on a stretch- 
er that had been brought. The soldier groaned. 

"Gently, gentlyl Can't you do it more gent- 
ly?" said the Emperor apparently suffering 
more than the dying soldier, and he rode away. 

Rostov saw tears filling the Emperor's eyes 
and heard him, as he was riding away, say to 
Czartoryski: "What a terrible thing war is: 
what a terrible thing! Quelle terrible chose 
que la guerre!" 

The troops of the vanguard were stationed 
before Wischau, within sight of the enemy's 
lines, which all day long had yielded ground to 
us at the least firing. The Emperor's gratitude 
was announced to the vanguard, rewards were 
promised, and the men received a double ra- 
tion of vodka. The campfires crackled and the 
soldiers' songs resounded even more merrily 
than on theprevious night. Denisov celebrated 
his promotion to the rank of major, and Ros- 
t6v, who had already drunk enough, at the end 
of the feast proposed the Emperor's health. 
"Not 'our Sovereign, the Emperor,' as they say 
at official dinners," said he, "but the health of 
our Sovereign, that good, enchanting, and great 
man! Let us drink to his health and to the cer- 
tain defeat of the French! 

"If we fought before," he said, "not letting 
the French pass, as at Schon Grabern, what 
shall we not do now when he is at the front? 
We will all die for him gladly! Is it not so, gen- 
tlemen? Perhaps I am not saying it right, I 
have drunk a good dealbut that is how I feel, 
and so do you too! To the health of Alexander 
the First! Hurrah!" 

"Hurrah!" rang the enthusiastic voices of 
the officers. 



And the old cavalry captain, Kfrsten, shouted 
enthusiastically and no less sincerely than the 
twenty-year-old Rost6v. 

When the officers had emptied and smashed 
their glasses, Kirsten filled others and, in shirt 
sleeves and breeches, went glass in hand to the 
soldiers' bonfires and with his long gray mus- 
tache, his white chest showing under his open 
shirt, he stood in a majestic pose in the light of 
the campfire, waving his uplifted arm. 

"Lads! here's to our Sovereign, the Emper- 
or, and victory over our enemies! Hurrah!" he 
exclaimed in his dashing, old, hussar's bari- 
tone. 

The hussars crowded round and responded 
heartily with loud shouts. 

Late that night, when all had separated, 
Denfsov with his short hand patted his favor- 
ite, Rost6v, on the shoulder. 

"As there's no one to fall in love with on 
campaign, he's fallen in love with the Tsar," 
he said. 

"Denisov, don't make fun of it!" cried Ros- 
t6v. "It is such a lofty, beautiful feeling, such 



"I believe it, I believe it, fwiend, and I share 
and appwove. . . ." 

"No, you don't understand!" 

And Rostov got up and went wandering 
among the campfires, dreaming of what happi- 
ness it would be to die not in saving the Em- 
peror's life (he did not even dare to dream of 
that), but simply to die before his eyes. He 
really was in love with the Tsar and the glory 
of the Russian arms and the hope of future 
triumph. And he was not the only man to ex- 
perience that feeling during those memorable 
days preceding the battle of Austcrlitz: nine 
tenths of the men in the Russian army were 
then in love, though less ecstatically, with their 
Tsar and the glory of the Russian arms. 

CHAPTER XI 

THE NEXT DAY the Emperor stopped at Wis- 
chau, and Villier, his physician, was repeated- 
ly summoned to see him. At headquarters and 
among the troops near by the news spread that 
the Emperor was unwell. He ate nothing and 
had slept badly that night, those around him 
reported. The cause of this indisposition was 
the strong impression made on his sensitive 
mind by the sight of the killed and wounded. 
At daybreak on the seventeenth, a French 
officer who had come with a flag of truce, de- 
manding an audience with the Russian Em- 
peror, was brought into Wischau from our out- 



BOOK THREE 



143 



posts. This officer was Savary. The Emperor 
had only just fallen asleep and so Savary had 
to wait. At midday he was admitted to the Em- 
peror, and an hour later he rode off with Prince 
Dolgoriikovtothe advanced post of the French 
army. 

It was rumored that Savary had been sent to 
propose to Alexander a meeting with Napo- 
leon. To the joy and pride of the whole army, 
a personal interview was refused, and instead 
of the Sovereign, Prince Dolgorukov, the vic- 
tor at Wischau, was sent with Savary to negoti- 
ate with Napoleon if, contrary to expectations, 
these negotiations were actuated by a real de- 
sire for peace. 

Toward evening Dolgorukov came back, 
went straight to the Tsar, and remained alone 
with him for a long time. 

On the eighteenth and nineteenth of No- 
vember, the army advanced two days' march 
and the enemy's outposts after a brief inter- 
change of shots retreated. In the highest army 
circles from midday on the nineteenth, a great, 
excitedly bustling activity began whLh lasted 
till the morning of the twentieth, when the 
memorable battle of Austerlitz was fought. 

Till midday on the nineteenth, the activity 
the eager talk, running to and fro, and dis- 
patching of adjutants was con fined to the Em- 
peror's headquarters. But on the afternoon of 
that day, this activity reached Kutiizov's head- 
quarters and the staffs of the commanders of 
columns. By evening, the adjutants had spread 
it to all ends and parts of the army, and in the 
night from the nineteenth to the twentieth, 
the whole eighty thousand allied troops rose 
from their bivouacs to the hum of voices, and 
the army swayed and started in one enormous 
mass six miles long. 

The concentrated activity which had begun 
at the Emperor's headquarters in the morning 
and had started the whole movement that fol- 
lowed was like the first movement of the main 
wheel of a large tower clock. One wheel slow- 
ly moved, another was set in motion, and a 
third, and wheels began to revolve faster and 
faster, levers and cogwheels to work, chimes to 
play, figures to pop out, and the hands to ad- 
vance with regular motion as a result of all 
that activity. 

Just as in the mechanism of a clock, so in 
the mechanism of the military machine, an im- 
pulse once given leads to the final result; and 
just as indifferently quiescent till the moment 
when motion is transmitted to them are the 
parts of the mechanism which the impulse has 



not yet reached. Wheels creak on their axles as 
the cogs engage one another and the revolving 
pulleys whirr with the rapidity of their move- 
ment, but a neighboring wheel is as quiet and 
motionless as though it were prepared to re- 
main so for a hundred years; but the moment 
comes when the lever catches it and obeying 
the impulse that wheel begins to creak and 
joins in the common motion the result and 
aim of which are beyond its ken. 

Just as in a clock, the result of the compli- 
cated motion of innumerable wheels and pul- 
leys is merely a slow and regular movement of 
the hands which show the time, so the result 
of all the complicated human activities of 
1 60,000 Russians and French all their passions, 
desires, remorse, humiliations, sufferings, out- 
bursts of pride, fear, and enthusiasm was only 
the loss of the battle of Austerlitz, the so-called 
battle of the three Emperors that is to say, a 
slow movement of the hand on the dial of hu- 
man history. 

Prince Andrew was on duty that day and in 
constant attendance on the commander in 
chief. 

At six in the evening, Kutiizov went to the 
Emperor's headquarters and after staying but 
a short time with the Tsar went to see the grand 
marshal of the court, Count Tolst6y. 

Bolk6nski took the opportunity to go in to 
get some details of the coming action from 
Dolgorukov. He felt that Kutiizov was upset 
and dissatisfied about something and that at 
headquarters they were dissatisfied with him, 
and also that at the Emperor's headquarters 
everyone adopted toward him the tone of men 
who know something others do not know: he 
therefore wished to speak to Dolgorukov. 

"Well, how d'you do, my dear fellow?" said 
Dolgorukov, who was sitting at tea with Bili- 
bin. "The fete is for tomorrow. How is your 
old fellow? Out of sorts?" 

"I won't say he is out of sorts, but I fancy he 
would like to be heard." 

"But they heard him at the council of war 
and will hear him when he talks sense, but to 
temporize and wait for something now when 
Bonaparte fears nothing so much as a general 
battle is impossible." 

"Yes, you have seen him?" said Prince An- 
drew. "Well, what is Bonaparte like? How did 
he impress you?" 

"Yes, I saw him, and am convinced that he 
fears nothing so much as a general engage- 
ment," repeated Dolgonikov, evidently priz- 
ing this general conclusion which he had ar- 



144 



WAR AND PEACE 



rived at from his interview with Napoleon. "If 
he weren't afraid of a battle why did he ask for 
that interview? Why negotiate, and above all 
why retreat, when to retreat is so contrary to 
his method of conducting war? Believe me, he 
is afraid, afraid of a general battle. His hour 
has come! Mark my words I" 

"But tell me, what is he like, eh?" said Prince 
Andrew again. 

"He is a man in a gray overcoat, very anxi- 
ous that I should call him 'Your Majesty/ but 
who, to his chagrin, got no title frommel That's 
the sort of man he is, and nothing more," re- 
plied Dolgoriikov, looking round at Bilibin 
with a smile. 

"Despite my great respect for old Kutiizov," 
he continued, "we should be a nice set of fel- 
lows if we were to wait about and so give him 
a chance to escape, or to trick us, now that we 
certainly have him in our hands! No, we 
mustn't forget Suv6rov and his rule not to 
put yourself in a position to be attacked, but 
yourself to attack. Believe me in war the en- 
ergy of young men often shows the way better 
than all the experience of old Cunctators." 

"But in what position are we going to at- 
tack him? I have been at the outposts today 
and it is impossible to say where his chief 
forces are situated," said Prince Andrew. 

He wished to explain to Dolgoriikov a plan 
of attack he had himself formed. 

"Oh, that is all the same," Dolgoriikov said 
quickly, and getting up he spread a map on 
the table. "All eventualities have been fore- 
seen. If he is standing before Brunn . . ." 

And Prince Dolgoriikov rapidly but indis- 
tinctly explained Weyrother's plan of a flank- 
ing movement. 

Prince Andrew began to reply and to state 
his own plan, which might have been as good 
as Weyrother's, but for the disadvantage that 
Weyrother's had already been approved. As 
soon as Prince Andrew began to demonstrate 
the defects of the latter and the merits of his 
own plan, Prince Dolgoriikov ceased to listen 
to him and gazed absent-mindedly not at the 
map, but at Prince Andrew's face. 

"There will be a council of war at Kutiizov's 
tonight, though; you can say all this there," re- 
marked Dolgorukov. 

"I will do so," said Prince Andrew, moving 
away from the map. 

"Whatever are you bothering about, gentle- 
men?" said Bilibin, who, till then, had listened 
with an amused smile to their conversation 
and now was evidently ready with a joke. 



"Whether tomorrow brings victory or defeat, 
the glory of our Russian arms is secure. Except 
your Kutiizov, there is not a single Russian in 
command of a column! The commanders are: 
Herr General Wimpfen, le Comte de Langer- 
on, le Prince de Lichtenstein, le Prince de Ho- 
henlohe, and finally Prishprish, 1 and so on like 
all those Polish names." 

"Be quiet, backbiter!" said Dolgoriikov. "It 
is not true; there are now two Russians, Milo- 
rddovich, and Dokhtiirov, and there would be 
a third, Count Arakchev, if his nerves were 
not too weak." 

"However, I think General Kutiizov has 
come out," said Prince Andrew. "I wish you 
good luck and success, gentlemen!" he added 
and went out after shaking hands with Dol- 
gorukov and Bilibin. 

On the way home, Prince Andrew could not 
refrain from asking Kutiizov, who was sitting 
silently beside him, what he thought of tomor- 
row's battle. 

Kutiizov looked sternly at his adjutant and, 
after a pause, replied: "I think the battle will 
be lost, and so I told Count Tolst6y and asked 
him to tell the Emperor. What do you think 
he replied? 'But, my dear general, I am en- 
gaged with rice and cutlets, look after military 
matters yourself!' Yes . . . That was the answer 
I got!" 

CHAPTER XII 

SHORTLY AFTER nine o'clock that evening, Wey- 
rother drove with his plans to Kutiizov's quar- 
ters where the council of war was to be held. 
All the commanders of columns were sum- 
moned to the commander in chief's and with 
the exception of Prince Bagrati6n, who de- 
clined to come, were all there at the appointed 
time. 

Weyrother, who was in full control of the 
proposed battle, by his eagerness and briskness 
presented a marked contrast to the dissatisfied 
and drowsy Kutiizov, who reluctantly played 
the part of chairman and president of the 
council of war. Weyrother evidently felt him- 
self to be at the head of a movement that had 
already become unrestrainable. He was like a 
horse running downhill harnessed to a heavy 
cart. Whether he was pulling it or beingpushed 
by it he did not know, but rushed along at 
headlong speed with no time to consider what 
this movement might lead to. Weyrother had 
been twice that evening to the enemy's picket 
line to reconnoiter personally, and twice to the 

1 General Przebysz^wski. TR. 



BOOK THREE 



Emperors, Russian and Austrian, to report 
and explain, and to his headquarters where he 
had dictated the dispositions in German, and 
now, much exhausted, he arrived at Kutiizov's. 

He was evidently so busy that he even for- 
got to be polite to the commander in chief. He 
interrupted him, talked rapidly and indistinct- 
ly, without looking at the man he was address- 
ing, and did not reply to questions put to him. 
He was bespattered with mud and had a piti- 
ful, weary, and distracted air, though at the 
same time he was haughty and self-confident. 

Kutiizov was occupying a nobleman's castle 
of modest dimensions near Ostralitz. In the 
large drawing room which had become the 
commander in chief's office were gathered Ku- 
tiizov himself, Weyrother, and the members of 
the council of war. They were drinking tea, 
and only awaited Prince Bagrati6n to begin 
the council. At last Bagrati6n's orderly came 
with the news that the prince could not at- 
tend. Prince Andrew came in to inform the 
commander in chief of this and, availing him- 
self of permission previously given him by Ku- 
tiizov to be present at the council, he remained 
in the room. 

"Since Prince Bagration is not coming, we 
may begin," said Weyrother, hurriedly rising 
from his seat and going up to the table on 
which an enormous map of the environs of 
Briinn was spread out. 

Kutiizov, with his uniform unbuttoned so 
that his fat neck bulged over his collar as if es- 
caping, was sitting almost asleep in a low chair, 
with his podgy old hands resting symmetri- 
cally on its arms. At the sound of Weyrother's 
voice, he opened his one eye with an effort. 

"Yes, yes, if you please 1 It is already late," 
said he, and nodding his head he let it droop 
and again closed his eye. 

If at first the members of the council thought 
that Kutiizov was pretending to sleep, the 
sounds his nose emitted during the reading 
that followed proved that the commander in 
chief at that moment was absorbed by a far 
more serious matter than a desire to show his 
contempt for the dispositions or anything else 
he was engaged in satisfying the irresistible 
human need for sleep. He really was asleep. 
Weyrother, with the gesture of a man too busy 
to lose a moment, glanced at Kutiizov and, 
having convinced himself that he was asleep, 
took up a paper and in a loud, monotonous 
voice began to read out the dispositions for 
the impending battle, under a heading which 
he also read out: 



"Dispositions for an attack on the enemy 
position behind Kobelnitz and Sokolnitz, No- 
vember 30, 1805." 

The dispositions were very complicated and 
difficult. They began as follows: 

"As the enemy's left wing rests on wooded 
hills and his right extends along Kobelnitz 
and Sokolnitz behind the pondsuhat are there, 
while we, on the other hand, with our left wing 
by far outflank his right, it is advantageous to 
attack the enemy's latter wing especially if we 
occupy the villages of Sokolnitz and Kobelnitz, 
whereby we can both fall on his flank and pur- 
sue him over the plain between Schlappanitz 
and the Thuerassa forest, avoiding the defiles 
of Schlappanitz and Bellowitz which cover the 
enemy's front. For this object it is necessary 
that . . . The first column inarches . . . The 
second column marches . . . The third column 
marches . . ." and so on, read Weyrother. 

The generals seemed to listen reluctantly to 
the difficult dispositions. The tall, fair-haired 
General Buxhowden stood, leaning his back 
against the wall, his eyes fixed on a burning 
candle, and seemed not to listen or even to 
wish to be thought to listen. Exactly opposite 
Weyrother, with his glistening wide-open eyes 
fixed upon him and his mustache twisted up- 
wards, sat the ruddy Milorddovich in a mili- 
tary pose, his elbows turned outwards, his 
hands on his knees, and his shoulders raised. 
He remained stubbornly silent, gazing at Wey- 
rother's face, and only turned away his eyes 
when the Austrian chief of staff finished read- 
ing. Then Milorddovich looked round signifi- 
cantly at the other generals. But one could not 
tell from that significant look whether he 
agreed or disagreed and was satisfied or not with 
the arrangements. Next to Weyrother sat Count 
Langeron who, with a subtle smile that never 
left his typically southern French face during 
the whole time of the reading, gazed at his deli- 
cate fingers which rapidly twirled by its cor- 
ners a gold snuffbox on which was a portrait. 
In the middle of one of the longest sentences, 
he stopped the rotary motion of the snuffbox, 
raised his head, and with inimical politeness 
lurking in the corners of his thin lips inter- 
rupted Weyrother, wishing to say something. 
But the Austrian general, continuing to read, 
frowned angrily and jerked his elbows, as if to 
say: "You can tell me your views later, but now 
be so good as to look at the map and listen." 
Langeron lifted his eyes with an expression of 
perplexity, turned round to Milorddovich as 
if seeking an explanation, but meeting the lat- 



146 



WAR AND PEACE 



ter's impressive but meaningless gaze drooped 
his eyes sadly and again took to twirling his 
snuffbox. 

"A geography lesson I " he muttered as if to 
himself, but loud enough to be heard. 

Przebysz^wski, with respectful but dignified 
politeness, held his hand to his ear toward 
Weyrother, with the air of a man absorbed in 
attention. Dohktiirov, a little man, sat opposite 
Weyrother, with an assiduous and modest 
mien, and stooping over the outspread map 
conscientiously studied the dispositions and 
the unfamiliar locality. He asked Weyrother 
several times to repeat words he had not clear- 
ly heard and the difficult names of villages. 
Weyrother complied and Dohkturov noted 
them down. 

When the reading which lasted more than 
an hour was over, Langeron again brought his 
snuffbox to rest and, without looking at Wey- 
rother or at anyone in particular, began to say 
how difficult it was to carry out such a plan in 
which the enemy's position was assumed to be 
known, whereas it was perhaps not known, 
since the enemy was in movement. Langeron 's 
objections were valid but it was obvious that 
their chief aim was to show General Weyroth- 
er who had read his dispositions with as much 
self-confidence as if he were addressing school 
children that he had to do, not with fools, but 
witlrmen who could teach him something in 
military matters. 

When the monotonous sound of Weyroth- 
er's voice ceased, Kutuzov opened his eye as a 
miller wakes up when the soporific drone of 
the mill wheel is interrupted. He listened to 
what Langeron said, as if remarking, "So you 
are still at that silly business!" quickly closed 
his eye again, and let his head sink still lower. 

Langeron, trying as virulently as possible to 
sting Weyrother's vanity as author of the mili- 
tary plan, argued that Bonaparte might easily 
attack instead of being attacked, and so render 
the whole of this plan perfectly worthless. 
Weyrother met all objections with a firm and 
contemptuous smile, evidently prepared be- 
forehand to meet all objections be they what 
they might. 

"If he could attack us, he would have done 
so today," said he. 

"So you think he is powerless?" said Langer- 
on. 

"He has forty thousand men at most," re- 
plied Weyrother, with the smile of a doctor to 
whom an old wife wishes to explain the treat- 
ment of a case. 



"In that case he is inviting his doom by 
awaiting our attack," said Langeron, with a 
subtly ironical smile, again glancing round for 
support to Milorddovich who was near him. 

But Milorddovich was at that moment evi- 
dently thinking of anything rather than of 
what the generals were disputing about. 

"Ma foil" said he, "tomorrow we shall see 
all that on the battlefield." 

Weyrother again gave that smile which 
seemed to say that to him it was strange and 
ridiculous to meet objections from Russian 
generals and to have to prove to them what he 
had not merely convinced himself of, but had 
also convinced the sovereign Emperors of. 

"The enemy has quenched his fires and a 
continual noise is heard from his camp," said 
he. "What does that mean? Either he is retreat- 
ing, which is the only thing we need fear, or 
he is changing his position." (He smiled iron- 
ically.) "But even if he also took up a position 
in the Thuerassa, he merely saves us a great 
deal of trouble and all our arrangements to 
the minutest detail remain the same." 

"How is that? . . ." began Prince Andrew, 
who had for long been waiting an opportunity 
to express his doubts. 

Kutuzov here woke up, coughed heavily, and 
looked round at the generals. 

"Gentlemen, the dispositions for tomorrow 
or rather for today, for it is past midnight 
cannot now be altered," said he. "You have 
heard them, and we shall all do our duty. But 
before a battle, there is nothing more impor- 
tant . . ." he paused, "than to have a good 
sleep." 

He moved as if to rise. The generals bowed 
and retired. It was past midnight. Prince An- 
drew went out. 

The council of war, at which Prince Andrew 
had not been able to express his opinion as he 
had hoped to, left on him a vague and uneasy 
impression. Whether Dolgoriikov and Wey- 
rother, or Kutuzov, Langeron, and the others 
who did not approve of the plan of attack, 
were right he did not know. "But was it really 
not possible for Kutiizov to state his views 
plainly to the Emperor? Is it possible that on 
account of court and personal considerations 
tens of thousands of lives, and my life, my life," 
he thought, "must be risked?" 

"Yes, it is very likely that I shall be killed 
tomorrow," he thought. And suddenly, at this 
thought of death, a whole series of most dis- 
tant, most intimate, memories rose in his im- 



BOOK 

agination: he remembered his last parting from 
his father and his wife; he remembered the 
days when he first loved her. He thought of 
her pregnancy and felt sorry for her and for 
himself, and in a nervously emotional and sof- 
tened mood he went out of the hut in which 
he was billeted with Nesvitski and began to 
walk up and down before it. 

The night was foggy and through the fog the 
moonlight gleamed mysteriously. "Yes, tomor- 
row, tomorrow!" he thought. "Tomorrow ev- 
erything may be over for me! All these mem- 
ories will be no more, none of them will have 
any meaning for me. Tomorrow perhaps, even 
certainly, I have a presentiment that for the 
first time I shall have to show all I can do." 
And his fancy pictured the battle, its loss, the 
concentration of fighting at one point, and the 
hesitation of all the commanders. And then 
that happy moment, that Toulon for which he 
had so long waited, presents itself to him at 
last. He firmly and clearly expresses his opin- 
ion to Kutuzov, to Weyrother, and to the Em- 
perors. All are struck by the justness of his 
views, but no one undertakes to carry them 
out, so he takes a regiment, a divisionstipu- 
lates that no one is to interfere with his ar- 
rangementsleads his division to the decisive 
point, and gains the victory alone. "But death 
and suffering?" suggested another voice. Prince 
Andrew, however, did not answer that voice 
and went on dreaming of his triumphs. The 
dispositions for the next battle are planned by 
him alone. Nominally he is only an adjutant 
on Kutiizov's staff, but he does everything 
alone. The next battle is won by him alone. 
Kutuzov is removed and he is appointed . . . 
"Well and then?" asked the other voice. "If 
before that you are not ten times wounded, 
killed, or betrayed, well . . . what then? . . ." 
"Well then," Prince Andrew answered himself, 
"I don't know what will happen and don't 
want to know, and can't, but if I want this 
want glory, want to be known to men, want to 
be loved by them, it is not my fault that I want 
it and want nothing but that and live only for 
that. Yes, for that alone! I shall never tell any- 
one, but, oh God! what am I to do if I love 
nothing but fame and men's esteem? Death, 
wounds, the loss of family I fear nothing. And 
precious and dear as many persons are to me 
father, sister, wife those dearest to me yet 
dreadful and unnatural as it seems, I would give 
them all at once for a moment of glory, of tri- 
umph over men, of love from men I don't 
know and never shall know, for the love of 



THREE 147 

these men here," he thought, as he listened to 
voices in Kuttizov's courtyard. The voices were 
those of the orderlies who were packing up; 
one voice, probably a coachman's, was teasing 
Kutiizov's old cook whom Prince Andrew knew, 
and who was called Tit. He was saying, "Tit, 
I say, Tit!" 

"Well?" returned the old man. 

"Go, Tit, thresh a bit!" said the wag. 

"Oh, go to the devil!" called out a voice, 
drowned by the laughter of the orderlies and 
servants. 

"All the same, I love and value nothing but 
triumph over them all, I value this mystic pow- 
er and glory that is floating here above me in 
this mist!" 

CHAPTER XIII 

THAT SAME NIGHT, Rost6v was with a platoon 
on skirmishing duty in front of Bagrati6n's 
detachment. His hussars were placed along the 
line in couples and he himself rode along the 
line trying to master the sleepiness that kept 
coming over him. An enormous space, with 
our army's campfires dimly glowing in the fog, 
could be seen behind him; in front of him was 
misty darkness. Rostov could see nothing, peer 
as he would into that foggy distance: now some- 
thing gleamed gray, now there was something 
black, now little lights seemed to glimmer 
where the enemy ought to be, now he fancied 
it was only something in his own eyes. His eyes 
kept closing, and in his fancy appeared now 
the Emperor, now Denfsov, and now Moscow 
memories and he again hurriedly opened his 
eyes and saw close before him the head and 
ears of the horse he was riding, and sometimes, 
when he came within six paces of them, the 
black figures of hussars, but in the distance 
was still the same misty darkness. "Why not? 
... It might easily happen," thought Rost6v, 
"that the Emperor will meet me and give me 
an order as he would to any other officer; he'll 
say: 'Go and find out what's there.' There are 
many stories of his getting to know an officer in 
just such a chance way and attaching him to 
himself! What if he gave me a place near him? 
Oh, how I would guard him, how I would tell 
him the truth, how I would unmask his deceiv- 
ers!" And in order to realize vividly his love and 
devotion to the sovereign, Rost6v pictured to 
himself an enemy or a deceitful German, whom 
he would not only kill with pleasure but whom 
he would slap in the face before the Emperor. 
Suddenly a distant shout aroused him. He 
started and opened his eyes. 



148 



WAR AND PEACE 



"Where am I? Oh yes, in the skirmishing line 
. . . pass and watchword sh aft, Olmutz. What a 
nuisance that our squadron will be in reserve 
tomorrow/' he thought. "I'll ask leave to go to 
the front, this may be my only chance of see- 
ing the Emperor. It won't be long now before 
I am off duty. I'll take another turn and when 
I get back I'll go to the general and ask him." 
He readjusted himself in the saddle and touched 
up his horse to ride once more round his hus- 
sars. It seemed to him that it was getting light- 
er. To the left he saw a sloping descent lit up, 
and facing it a black knoll that seemed as steep 
as a wall. On this knoll there was a white patch 
that Rost6v could not at all make out: was it a 
glade in the wood lit up by the moon, or some 
unmelted snow, or some white houses? He even 
thought something moved on that white spot. 
"I expect it's snow . . . that spot ... a spot une 
tache/' he thought. "There now . . . it's not a 
tache . . . Natasha . . . sister, black eyes . . . Na 
. . . tasha . . . (Won't she be surprised when I 
tell her how I've seen the Emperor?) Natcisha 
. . . take mysabretache . . .""Keep to theright, 
your honor, there are bushes here," came the 
voice of an hussar, past whom Rost6v was rid- 
ing in the act of falling asleep. Rost6v lifted his 
head that had sunk almost to his horse's mane 
and pulled up beside the hussar. He was suc- 
cumbing to irresistible, youthful, childish drow- 
siness. "But what was I thinking? I mustn't for- 
get. How shall I speak to the Emperor? No, 
that's not it that's tomorrow. Oh yes! Natdsha 
. . . sabretache . . . saber them . . . Whom? The 
hussars . . . Ah, the hussars with mustaches. 
Along the Tverskiya Street rode the hussar 
with mustaches ... I thought about him too, 
just opposite Guryev's house . . . Old Guryev 
. . . Oh, but Denfsov's a fine fellow. But that's 
all nonsense. The chief thing is that the Em- 
peror is here. How he looked at me and wished 

to say something, but dared not No, it was 

I who dared not. But that's nonsense, the chief 
thing is not to forget the important thing I was 
thinking of. Yes, Na-tdsha, sabretache, oh, yes, 
yes! That's right!" And his head once more 
sank to his horse's neck. All at once it seemed 
to him that he was being fired at. "What? 
What? What? . . . Cut them down! What? . . ." 
said Rost6v, waking up. At the moment he 
opened his eyes he heard in front of him, where 
the enemy was, the long-drawn shouts of thou- 
sands of voices. His horse and the horse of the 
hussar near him pricked their ears at these 
shouts. Over there, where the shouting came 
from, a fire flared up and went out again, then 



another, and all along the French line on the 
hill fires flared up and the shouting grew loud- 
er and louder. Rost6v could hear the sound of 
French words but could not distinguish them. 
The din of many voices was too great; all he 
could hear was: "ahahah!" and "rrrr!" 

"What's that? What do you make of it?" said 
Rost6v to the hussar beside him. "That must 
be the enemy's camp!" 

The hussar did not reply. 

"Why, don't you hear it?" Rost6v asked 
again, after waiting for a reply. 

"Who can tell, your honor?" replied the hus- 
sar reluctantly. 

"From the direction, it must be the enemy," 
repeated Rost6v. 

"It may be he or it may be nothing," muttered 
the hussar. "It's dark . . . Steady!" he cried to 
his fidgeting horse. 

Rost6v's horse was also getting restive: it 
pawed the frozen ground, pricking its ears at 
the noise and looking at the lights. The shout- 
ing grew still louder and merged into a general 
roar that only an army of several thousand 
men could produce. The lights spread farther 
and farther, probably along the line of the 
French camp. Rost6v no longer wanted to 
sleep. The gay triumphant shouting of the 
enemy army had a stimulating effect on him. 
"Vive I'Empereur! VEmpereur!" he now 
heard distinctly. 

"They can't be far off, probably just beyond 
the stream," he said to the hussar beside him. 

The hussar only sighed without replying and 
coughed angrily. The sound of horse's hoofs 
approaching at a trot along the line of hussars 
was heard, and out of the foggy darkness the 
figure of a sergeant of hussars suddenly ap- 
peared, looming huge as an elephant. 

"Your honor, the generals I "said the sergeant, 
riding up to Rost6v. 

Rostov, still looking round toward the fires 
and the shouts, rode with the sergeant to meet 
some mounted men who were riding along the 
line. One was on a white horse. Prince Bagra- 
ti6n and Prince Dolgorukov with their adju- 
tants had come to witness the curious phenom- 
enon of the lights and shouts in the enemy's 
camp. Rost6v rode up to Bagrati6n, reported 
to him, and then joined the adjutants listen- 
ing to what the generals were saying. 

"Believe me," said Prince Dolgorukov, ad- 
dressing Bagrati6n, "it is nothing but a trick! 
He has retreated and ordered the rearguard to 
kindle fires and make a noise to deceive us." 

"Hardly," said Bagrati6n. "I saw them this 



BOOK THREE 



149 



evening on that knoll; if they had retreated 
they would have withdrawn from that too. . . . 
Officer!" said Bagratidn to Rost6v, "are the en- 
emy's skirmishers still there?" 

"They were there this evening, but now I 
don't know, your excellency. Shall I go with 
some of my hussars to see?" replied Rost6v. 

Bagrati6n stopped and, before replying, 
tried to see Rost6v's face in the mist. 

"Well, go and see," he said, after a pause. 

"Yes, sir." 

Rost6v spurred his horse, called to Sergeant 
Fddchenko and two other hussars, told them to 
follow him, and trotted downhill in the direc- 
tion from which the shouting came. He felt 
both frightened and pleased to be riding alone 
with three hussars into that mysterious and 
dangerous misty distance where no one had 
been before him. Bagrati6n called to him from 
the hill not to go beyond the stream, but Ros- 
tdv pretended not to hear him and did not 
stop but rodeon and on, continually mistaking 
bushes for trees and gullies for men and con- 
tinually discovering his mistakes. Having de- 
scended the hill at a trot, he no longer saw ei- 
ther our own or the enemy's fires, but heard 
the shouting of the French more loudly and 
distinctly. In the valley he saw before him 
something like a river, but when he reached it 
he found it was a road. Having come out onto 
the road he reined in his horse, hesitating 
whether to ride along it or cross it and ride 
over the black field up the hillside. To keep to 
the road which gleamed white in the mist 
would have been safer because it would be 
easier to see people coming along it. "Follow 
me!" said he, crossed the road, and began rid- 
ing up the hill at a gallop toward the point 
where the French pickets had been standing 
that evening. 

"Your honor, there he is!" cried one of the 
hussars behind him. And before Rost6v had 
time to make out what the black thing was 
that had suddenly appeared in the fog, there 
was a flash, followed by a report, and a bullet 
whizzing high up in the mist with a plaintive 
sound passed out of hearing. Another musket 
missed fire but flashed in the pan. Rost6v 
turned his horse and galloped back. Four more 
reports followed at intervals, and the bullets 
passed somewhere in the fog singing in differ- 
ent tones. Rost6v reined in his horse, whose 
spirits had risen, like his own, at the firing, and 
went back at a footpace. "Well, some more! 
Some more!" a merry voice was saying in his 
soul. But no more shots came. 



Only when approaching Bagrati6n did Ros- 
t6v let his horse gallop again, and with his hand 
at the salute rode up to the general. 

Dolgorukov was still insisting that the 
French had retreated and had only lit fires to 
deceive us. 

"What does that prove?" he was saying as 
Rost6v rode up. "They might rejreat and leave 
the pickets." 

"It's plain that they have not all gone yet, 
Prince," said Bagration. "Wait till tomorrow 
morning, we'll find out everything tomorrow." 

"The picket is still on the hill, your excel- 
lency, just where itwas in the even ing, "report- 
ed Rostov, stooping forward with his hand at 
the salute and unable to repress the smile of 
delight induced by his ride and especially by 
the sound of the bullets. 

"Very good, very good," said Bagrati6n. 
"Thank you, officer." 

"Your excellency," said Rost6v, "may I ask a 
favor?" 

"What is it?" 

"Tomorrow our squadron is to be in reserve. 
May I ask to beattached to the first squadron?" 

"What's your name?" 

"Count Rost6v." 

"Oh, very well, you may stay in attendance 
on me." 

"Count Ily Rost6v's son?" asked Dolgoru- 
kov. 

But Rost6v did not reply. 

"Then I may reckon on it, your excellency?" 

"I will give the order." 

"Tomorrow very likely I may be sent with 
some message to the Emperor," thought Rost6v. 
"Thank God!" 

The fires and shouting in the enemy's army 
were occasioned by the fact that while Napole- 
on's proclamation was being read to the troops 
the Emperor himself rode round his bivouacs. 
The soldiers, on seeing him, lit wisps of straw 
and ran after him, shouting, "Vive I'Emper- 
eurl" Napoleon's proclamation was as follows: 

Soldiers! The Russian army is advancing against 
you to avenge the Austrian army of Ulm. They are 
the same battalions you broke at Hollabrunn and 
have pursued ever since to this place. The position 
we occupy is a strong one, and while they are 
marching to go round me on the right they will 
expose a flank to me. Soldiers! I will myself direct 
your battalions. I will keep out of fire if you with 
your habitual valor carry disorder and confusion 
into the enemy's ranks, but should victory be in 
doubt, even for a moment, you will see your Em- 



1 5 

peror exposing himself to the first blows of the 
enemy, for there must be no doubt of victory, es- 
pecially on this day when what is at stake is the 
honor of the French infantry, so necessary to the 
honor of our nation. 

Do not break your ranks on the plea of remov- 
ing the wounded! Let every man be fully imbued 
with the thought that we must defeat these hire- 
lings of England, inspired by such hatred of our 
nation! This victory will conclude our campaign 
and we can return to winter quarters, where fresh 
French troops who are being raised in France will 
join us, and the peace I shall conclude will be 
worthy of my people, of you, and of myself. 

NAPOLEON 



CHAPTER XIV 

AT FIVE in the morning it was still quite dark. 
The troops of the center, the reserves, and Ba- 
grati6n's right flank had not yet moved, but on 
the left flank the columns of infantry, cavalry, 
and artillery, which were to be the first to de- 
scend the heights to attack the French right 
flank and drive it into the Bohemian moun- 
tains according to plan, were already up and 
astir. The smoke of the campfires, into which 
they were throwing everything superfluous, 
made the eyes smart. It was cold and dark. The 
officers were hurriedly drinking tea and break- 
fasting, the soldiers, munching biscuitand beat- 
ing a tattoo with their feet to warm themselves, 
gathering round the fires throwing into the 
flames the remains of sheds, chairs, tables, 
wheels, tubs, and everything that they did not 
want or could not carry away with them. Aus- 
trian column guides were moving in and out 
among the Russian troops and served as her- 
alds of the advance. As soon as an Austrian of- 
ficer showed himself near a commanding offi- 
cer's quarters, the regiment began to move: the 
soldiers ran from the fires, thrust their pipes in- 
to their boots, their bags into the carts, got 
their muskets ready, and formed rank. The of- 
ficers buttoned up their coats, buckled on their 
swords and pouches, and moved along the ranks 
shouting. The train drivers and orderlies har- 
nessed and packed the wagons and tied on the 
loads. The adjutants and battalion and regi- 
mental commanders mounted, crossed them- 
selves, gave final instructions, orders, and com- 
missions to the baggage men who remained be- 
hind, and the monotonous tramp of thousands 
of feet resounded. The column moved forward 
without knowing where and unable, from the 
masses around them, the smoke and the increas- 
ing fog, to see either the place they were leav- 
ing or that to which they were going. 



WAR AND PEACE 

A soldier on the march is hemmed in and 
borne along by his regiment as much as a 
sailor is by his ship. However far he has walked, 
whatever strange, unknown, and dangerous 
places he reaches, just as a sailor is always sur- 
rounded by the same decks, masts, and rigging 
of his ship, so the soldier always has around 
him the same comrades, the same ranks, the 
same sergeant major Ivan Mitrich, the same 
company dog Jack, and the same commanders. 
The sailor rarely cares to know the latitude in 
which his ship is sailing, but on the day of bat- 
tleheaven knows how and whencea stern 
note of which all are conscious sounds in the 
moral atmosphere of an army, announcing the 
approach of something decisive and solemn, 
and awakening in the men an unusual curios- 
ity. On the day of battle the soldiers excitedly 
try to get beyond the interests of their regiment, 
they listen intently, look about, and eagerly 
ask concerning what is going on around them. 

The fog had grown so dense that though it 
was growing light they could not see ten paces 
ahead. Bushes looked like gigantic trees and 
level ground like cliffs and slopes. Anywhere, 
on any side, one might encounter an enemy in- 
visible ten paces off. But the columns advanced 
for a long time, always in thesame fog, descend- 
ing and ascending hills, avoiding gardens and 
enclosures, going over new and unknown 
ground, and nowhere encountering the enemy. 
On the contrary, the soldiers became aware 
that in front, behind, and on all sides, other 
Russian columns were moving in the same di- 
rection. Every soldier felt glad to know that to 
the unknown place where he was going, many 
more of our men were going too. 

"There now, the Kiirskies have also gone 
past," was being said in the ranks. 

"It's wonderful what a lot of our troops have 
gathered, lads 1 Last night I looked at thecamp- 
fires and there was no end of them. A regular 
Moscow 1" 

Though none of the column commanders 
rode up to the ranks or talked to the men (the 
commanders, as we saw at the council of war, 
were out of humor and dissatisfied with the af- 
fair, and so did not exert themselves to cheer 
the men but merely carried out the orders), yet 
the troops marched gaily, as they always do 
when going into action, especially to an attack. 
But when they had marched for about an hour 
in the dense fog, the greater part of the men 
had to halt and an unpleasant consciousness of 
some dislocation and blunder spread through 
the ranks. How such a consciousness is com- 



BOOK THREE 



municated is very difficult to define, but it cer- 
tainly is communicated very surely, and flows 
rapidly, imperceptibly, and irrepressibly, as 
water does in a creek. Had the Russian army 
been alone without any allies, it might perhaps 
have been a long time before this consciousness 
of mismanagement became a general convic- 
tion, but as it was, the disorder was readily 
andnaturally attributed to thestupid Germans, 
and everyone was convinced that a dangerous 
muddle had been occasioned by the sausage 
eaters. 

"Why have we stopped? Is the way blocked? 
Or have we already come up against the 
French?" 

"No, one can't hear them. They'd be firing 
if we had." 

"They were in a hurry enough to start us, 
and now here we stand in the middle of a field 
without rhyme or reason. It's all those damned 
Germans' muddling! What stupid devils!" 

"Yes, I'd send them on in front, but no fear, 
they're crowding up behind. And now here we 
stand hungry." 

"I say, shall we soon be clear? They say the 
cavalry are blocking the way," said an officer. 

"Ah, those damned Germans! They don't 
know their own country!" said another. 

"What division are you?" shouted an adju- 
tant, riding up. 

"The Eighteenth." 

"Then why are you here? You should have 
gone on long ago, now you won't get there till 
evening." 

"What stupid orders! They don't themselves 
know what they are doing!" said the officer and 
rode off. 

Then a general rode past shouting something 
angrily, not in Russian. 

"Tafa-lafa! But what he's jabbering no one 
can make out," said a soldier, mimicking the 
general who had ridden away. "I'd shoot them, 
the scoundrels!" 

"We were ordered to be at the place before 
nine, but we haven't got halfway. Fine orders!" 
was being repeated on different sides. 

And the feeling of energy with which the 
troops had started began to turn into vexation 
and anger at the stupid arrangements and at 
the Germans. 

The cause of the confusion was that while 
the Austrian cavalry was moving toward our 
left flank, the higher command found that our 
center was too far separated from our right 
flank and the cavalry were all ordered to turn 
back to the right. Several thousand cavalry 



crossed in front of the infantry, who had to 
wait. 

At the front an altercation occurred between 
an Austrian guide and a Russian general. The 
general shouted a demand that the cavalry 
should be halted, the Austrian argued that not 
he, but the higher command, was to blame. 
The troops meanwhile stood growing listless 
and dispirited. After an hour's delay they at 
last moved on, descending the hill. The fog 
that was dispersing on the hill lay still more 
densely below, where they were descending. In 
front in the fog a shot was heard and then an- 
other, at first irregularly at varying intervals 
trata . . . tat and then more and more regular- 
ly and rapidly, and the action at the Goldbach 
Stream began. 

Not expecting to come on the enemy down 
by the stream, and having stumbled on him in 
the fog, hearing no encouraging word from 
their commanders, and with a consciousness of 
being too late spreading through the ranks, 
and above all being unable to see anything in 
front or around them in the thick fog, the 
Russians exchanged shots with the enemy la- 
zily and advanced and again halted, receiving 
no timely orders from ttye officers or adjutants 
who wandered about in the fog in those un- 
known surroundings unable to find their own 
regiments. In this way the action began for 
the first, second, and third columns, which had 
gone down into the valley. The fourth col- 
umn, with which Kutiizov was, stood on the 
Pratzen Heights. 

Below, where the fight was beginning, there 
was still thick fog; on the higher ground it was 
clearing, but nothing could be seen of what 
was going on in front. Whether all the enemy 
forces were, as we supposed, six miles away, or 
whether they were near by in that sea of mist, 
no one knew till after eight o'clock. 

It was nine o'clock in the morning. The fog 
lay unbroken like a sea down below, but high- 
er up at the village of Schlappanitz where Na- 
poleon stood with his marshals around him, it 
was quite light. Above him was a clear blue sky, 
and the sun's vast orb quivered like a huge hol- 
low, crimson float on the surface of that milky 
sea of mist. The whole French army, and even 
Napoleon himself with his staff, were not on 
the far side of the streams and hollows of Sok- 
olnitz and Schlappanitz beyond which we in- 
tended to take up our position and begin the 
action, but were on this side, so close to our 
own forces that Napoleon with the naked eye 
could distinguish a mounted man from one on 



WAR AND PEACE 



foot. Napoleon, in the blue cloak which he had 
worn on his Italian campaign, sat on his small 
gray Arab horse a little in front of his marshals. 
He gazed silently at the hills which seemed to 
rise out of the sea of mist and on which the 
Russian troops were moving in the distance, 
and he listened to the sounds of firing in the 
valley. Not a single muscle of his face which 
in those days was still thin moved. His gleam- 
ing eyes were fixed intently on one spot. His 
predictions were being justified. Part of the 
Russian force had already descended into the 
valley toward the ponds and lakes and part 
were leaving these Pratzen Heights which he 
intended to attack and regarded as the key to 
the position. He saw over the mist that in a hol- 
low between two hills near the village of Prat- 
zen, the Russian columns, their bayonets glit- 
tering, were moving continuously in one direc- 
tion toward the valley and disappearing one 
after another into the mist. From information 
he had received the evening before, from the 
sound of wheels and footsteps heard by the out- 
posts during the night, by the disorderly move- 
ment of the Russian columns, and from all in- 
dications, he saw clearly that the allies believed 
him to be far away in front of them, and that 
the columns moving near Pratzen constituted 
the center of the Russian army, and that that 
center was already sufficiently weakened to be 
successfully attacked. But still he did not begin 
the engagement. 

Today was a great day for him the anniver- 
sary of his coronation. Before dawn he had 
slept for a few hours, and refreshed, vigorous, 
and in good spirits, he mounted his horse and 
rode out into the field in that happy mood in 
which every thing seems possible and everything 
succeeds. He sat motionless, looking at the 
heights visible above the mist, and his cold face 
wore that special look of confident, self-com- 
placent happiness that one sees on the face of 
a boy happily in love. The marshals stood be- 
feind him not venturing to distract his atten- 
tion. He looked now at the Pratzen Heights, 
now at the sun floating up out of the mist. 

When the sun had entirely emerged from 
the fog, and fields and mist were aglow with 
dazzling light as if he had only awaited this to 
begin the action he drew the glove from his 
shapely white hand, made a sign with it to the 
marshals, and ordered the action to begin. The 
marshals, accompanied by adjutants, galloped 
off in different directions, and a few minutes 
later the chief forces of the French army moved 
rapidly toward those Pratzen Heights which 



were being more and more denuded by Rus- 
sian troops moving down the valley to their 
left 

CHAPTER XV 

AT EIGHT O'CLOCK Kuttizov rode to Pratzen at 
the head of the fourth column, Milorddovich's, 
the one that was to take the place of Przeby- 
szlwski's and Langeron's columns which had 
already gone down into the valley. He greeted 
the men of the foremost regiment and gave 
them the order to march, thereby indicating 
that he intended to lead that column himself. 
When he had reached the village of Pratzen he 
halted. Prince Andrew was behind, among the 
immense number forming the commander in 
chiefs suite. He was in a state of suppressed ex- 
citement and irritation, though controlledly 
calm as a man is at the approach of a long- 
awaited moment. He was firmly convinced that 
this was the day of his Toulon, or his bridge of 
Arcola. 1 How it would come about he did not 
know, but he felt sure it would do so. The lo- 
cality and the position of our troops were 
known to him as far as they could be known to 
anyone in our army. His own strategic plan, 
which obviously could not now be carried out, 
was forgotten. Now, entering into Weyrother's 
plan, Prince Andrew considered possible con- 
tingencies and formed new projects such as 
might call for his rapidity of perception and 
decision. 

To the left down below in the mist, the mus- 
ketry fire of unseen forces could be heard. It 
was there Prince Andrew thought the fight 
would concentrate. "There we shall encounter 
difficulties, and there," thought he, "I shall be 
sent with a brigade or division, and there, stand- 
ard in hand, I shall go forward and break what- 
ever is in front of me." 

He could not look calmly at the standards of 
the passing battalions. Seeing them he kept 
thinking, "That may be the very standard with 
which I shall lead the army." 

In the morning all that was left of the night 
mist on the heights was a hoar frost now turn- 
ing to dew, but in the valleys it still lay like a 
milk-white sea. Nothing was visible in the val- 
ley to the left into which our troops had de- 
scended and from whence came the sounds of 
firing. Above the heights was the dark clear sky, 
and to the right the vast orb of the sun. In 
front, far off on the farther shore of that sea of 

x The scene of Napoleon's brilliant victory in 
the province of Verona over greatly superior Aus- 
trian forces, in 1796. TR. 



BOOK THREE 



153 



mist, some wooded hills were discernible, and 
it was there the enemy probably was, for some- 
thing could be descried. On the right the 
Guards were entering the misty region with a 
sound of hoofs and wheels and now and then 
a gleam of bayonets; to the left beyond the vil- 
lage similar masses of cavalry came up and dis- 
appeared in the sea of mist. In front and behind 
moved infantry. The commander in chief was 
standing at the end of the village letting the 
troops pass by him. That morning Kutuzov 
seemed worn and irritable. The infantry pass- 
ing before him came to a halt without any 
command being given, apparently obstructed 
by something in front. 

"Do order them to form into battalion col- 
umns and go round the villagel" he said angri- 
ly to a general who had ridden up. "Don't you 
understand, your excellency, my dear sir, that 
you must not defile through narrow village 
streets when we are marching against the ene- 
my?" 

"I intended to re-form them beyond the vil- 
lage, your excellency," answered the general. 

Kutuzov laughed bitterly. 

"You'll make a fine thing of it, deploying in 
sight of the enemy! Very fine!" 

"The enemy is still far away, your excellency. 
According to the dispositions . . ." 

"The dispositions!" exclaimed Kutuzov bit- 
terly. "Who told you that? . . . Kindly do as you 
are ordered." 

"Yes, sir." 

"My dear fellow," Nesvftski whispered to 
Prince Andrew, "the old man is as surly as a 
dog." 

An Austrian officer in a white uniform with 
green plumes in his hat galloped up to Kutu- 
zov and asked in the Emperor's name had the 
fourth column advanced into action. 

Kutuzov turned round without answering 
and his eye happened to fall upon Prince An- 
drew, who was beside him. Seeing him, Kutu- 
zov's malevolent and caustic expression sof- 
tened, as if admitting that what was being done 
was not his adjutant's fault, and still not an- 
swering the Austrian adjutant, he addressed 
Bolk6nski. 

"Go, my dear fellow, and see whether the 
third division has passed the village. Tell it to 
stop and await my orders." 

Hardly had Prince Andrew started than he 
stopped him. 

"And ask whether sharpshooters have been 
posted," he added. "What are they doing? 
What are they doing?" he murmured to him- 



self, still not replying to the Austrian. 

Prince Andrew galloped off to execute the 
order. 

Overtaking the battalions that continued to 
advance, he stopped the third division and con- 
vinced himself that there really were no sharp- 
shooters in front of our columns. The colonel 
at the head of the regiment was much surprised 
at the commander in chief's order to throw out 
skirmishers. He had felt perfectly sure that 
there were other troops in front of him and 
that the enemy must be at least six miles away. 
There was really nothing to be seen in front 
except a barren descent hidden by dense mist. 
Having given orders in the commander in 
chief's name to rectify this omission, Prince 
Andrew galloped back. Kutuzov still in the 
same place, his stout body resting heavily in 
the saddle with the lassitude of age, sat yawn- 
ing wearily with closed eyes. The troops were 
no longer moving, but stood with the butts of 
their muskets on the ground. 

"All right, all right!" he said to Prince An- 
drew, and turned to a general who, watch in 
hand, was saying it was time they started as all 
the left-flank columns had already descended. 

"Plenty of time, your excellency," muttered 
Kutuzov in the midst of a yawn. "Plenty of 
time," he repeated. 

Just then at a distance behind Kutuzov was 
heard the sound of regiments saluting, and 
this sound rap idly came nearer along the whole 
extended line of the advancing Russian col- 
umns. Evidently the person they were greeting 
was riding quickly. When the soldiers of the 
regiment in front of which Kutuzov was stand- 
ing began to shout, he rode a little to one side 
and looked round with a frown. Along the road 
from Pratzen galloped what looked like a 
squadron of horsemen in various uniforms. 
Two of them rode side by side in front, at full 
gallop. One in a black uniform with white 
plumes in his hat rode a bobtailed chestnut 
horse, the other who was in a white uniform 
rode a black one. These were the two Emper- 
ors followed by their suites. Kutuzov, affecting 
the manners of an old soldier at the front, 
gave the command "Attention!" and rode up 
to the Emperors with a salute. His whole ap- 
pearance and manner were suddenly trans- 
formed. He put on the air of a subordinate 
who obeys without reasoning. With an affecta- 
tion of respect which evidently struck Alex- 
ander unpleasantly, he rode up and saluted. 

This unpleasant impression merely flitted 
over the young and happy face of the Emperor 



154 



WAR AND PEACE 



like a cloud of haze across a clear sky and van- 
ished. After his illness he looked rather thin- 
ner that day than on the field of Olmiitz where 
Bolkonski had seen him for the first time 
abroad, but there was still the same bewitching 
combination of majesty and mildness in his 
fine gray eyes, and on his delicate lips the same 
capacity for varying expression and the same 
prevalent appearance of goodhearted innocent 
youth. 

At the Olmiitz review he had seemed more 
majestic; here he seemed brighter and more 
energetic. He was slightly flushed after gallop- 
ing two miles, and reining in his horse he 
sighed restfully and looked round at the faces 
of his suite, young and animated as his own. 
Czartoryski, Novosiltsev, Prince Volk6nsky, 
Str6gonov, and the others, all richly dressed 
gay young men on splendid, well-groomed, 
fresh, only slightly heated horses, exchanging 
remarks and smiling, had stopped behind the 
Emperor. The Emperor Francis, a rosy, long- 
faced young man, sat very erect on his hand- 
some black horse, looking about him in a lei- 
surely and preoccupied manner. He beckoned 
to one of his white adjutants and asked some 
question"Most likely he is asking at what 
o'clock they started," thought Prince Andrew, 
watching his old acquaintance with a smile he 
could not repress as he recalled his reception 
at Brtinn. In the Emperors' suite were the 
picked young orderly officers of the Guard and 
line regiments, Russian and Austrian. Among 
them were grooms leading the Tsar's beautiful 
relay horses covered with embroidered cloths. 

As when a window is opened a whiff of fresh 
air from the fields enters a stuffy room, so a 
whiff of youthfulness, energy, and confidence 
of success reached Kutuzov's cheerless staff 
with the galloping advent of all these brilliant 
young men. 

"Why aren't you beginning, Michael Ilari6n- 
ovich?" said the Emperor Alexander hurried- 
ly to Kutuzov, glancing courteously at the 
same time at the Emperor Francis. 

"I am waiting, Your Majesty," answered Ku- 
tuzov, bending forward respectfully. 

The Emperor, frowning slightly, bent his 
ear forward as if he had not quite heard. 

"Waiting, Your Majesty," repeated Kutiizov. 
(Prince Andrew noted that Kutiizov's upper 
lip twitched unnaturally as he said the word 
"waiting.") "Not all the columns have formed 
up yet, Your Majesty." 

The Tsar heard but obviously did not like 
the reply; he shrugged his rather round shoul- 



ders and glanced at Novosiltsev who was near 
him, as if complaining of Kutiizov. 

"You know, Michael Ilari6novich, we are not 
on the Empress' Field where a parade does not 
begin till all the troops are assembled," said 
the Tsar with another glance at the Emperor 
Francis, as if inviting him if not to join in at 
least to listen to what he was saying. But the 
Emperor Francis continued to look about him 
and did not listen. 

"That is just why I do not begin, sire," said 
Kutuzov in a resounding voice, apparently to 
preclude the possibility of not being heard, 
and again something in his face twitched 
"That is just why I do not begin, sire, because 
we are not on parade and not on the Empress' 
Field," said he clearly and distinctly. 

In the Emperor's suite all exchanged rapid 
looks that expressed dissatisfaction and re- 
proach. "Old though he may be, he should not, 
he certainly should not, speak like that," their 
glances seemed to say. 

The Tsar looked intently and observantly 
into Kutuzov's eye waiting to hear whether he 
would say anything more. But Kutuzov, with 
respectfully bowed head, seemed also to be 
waiting. The silence lasted for about a min- 
ute. 

"However, if you command it, Your Majes- 
ty," said Kutiizov, lifting his head and again 
assuming his former tone of a dull, unreason- 
ing, but submissive general. 

He touched his horse and having called Mil- 
orddovich, the commander of the column, gave 
him the order to advance. 

The troops again began to move, and two 
battalions of the N6vgorod and one of the Ap- 
sheron regiment went forward past the Emper- 
or. 

As this Apsheron battalion marched by, the 
red- faced Milorddovich, without his greatcoat, 
with his Orders on his breast and an enormous 
tuft of plumes in his cocked hat worn on one 
side with its corners front and back, galloped 
strenuously forward, and with a dashing salute 
reined in his horse before the Emperor. 

"God be with you, general!" said the Em- 
peror. 

"Ma foi, sire, nous ferons ce qui sera dans 
noire possibility, sire"' 1 he answered gaily, 
raising nevertheless ironic smiles among the 
gentlemen of the Tsar's suite by his poor 
French. 

Milorddovich wheeled his horse sharply and 

1 "Indeed, Sire, we shall do everything that it is 
possible to do, Sire." 



BOOK 

stationed himself a little behind the Emperor. 
The Apsheron men, excited by the Tsar's pres- 
ence, passed in step before the Emperors and 
their suites at a bold, brisk pace. 

"Lads 1" shouted Milorddovich in a loud, self- 
confident, and cheery voice, obviously so elat- 
ed by the sound of firing, by the prospect of 
battle, and by the sight of the gallant Apsher- 
ons, his comrades in Suv6rov's time, now 
passing so gallantly before the Emperors, 
that he forgot the sovereigns' presence. "Lads, 
it's not the first village you've had to take," 
cried he. 

"Glad to do our best!" shouted the soldiers. 

The Emperor's horse started at the sudden 
cry. This horse that had carried the sovereign 
at reviews in Russia bore him also here on the 
field of Austerlitz, enduring the heedless blows 
of his left foot and pricking its ears at the sound 
of shots just as it had done on the Empress' Field, 
not understanding the significance of the fir- 
ing, nor of the nearness of the Emperor Fran- 
cis' black cob, nor of all that was being said, 
thought, and felt that day by its rider. 

The Emperor turned with a smile to one of 
his followers and made a remark to him, point- 
ing to the gallant Apsherons. 

CHAPTER XVI 

KUTI/ZOV accompanied by his adjutants rode 
at a walking pace behind the carabineers. 

When he had gone less than half a mile in 
the rear of the column he stopped at a solitary, 
deserted house that had probably once been an 
inn, where two roads parted. Both of them led 
downhill and troops were marching along 
both. 

The fog had begun to clear and enemy 
troops were already dimly visible about a mile 
and a half off on the opposite heights. Down 
below, on the left, the firing became more dis- 
tinct. Kutiizov had stopped and was speaking 
to an Austrian general. Prince Andrew, who 
was a little behind and looking at them, turned 
to an adjutant to ask him for a field glass. 

"Look, look! "said this adjutant, looking not 
at the troops in the distance, but down the hill 
before him. "It's the French!" 

The two generals and the adjutant took hold 
of the field glass, trying to snatch it from one 
another. The expression on all their faces sud- 
denly changed to one of horror. The French 
were supposed to be a mile and a half away, 
but had suddenly and unexpectedly appeared 
just in front of us. 

"It's the enemy? . . . No! . . . Yes, see it isl 



THREE 155 

... for certain. . . . But how is that?" said dif- 
ferent voices. 

With the naked eye Prince Andrew saw be- 
low them to the right, not more than five hun- 
dred paces from where Kutiizov was standing, 
a dense French column coining up to meet the 
Apsherons. *> 

"Here it is! The decisive moment has arrived. 
My turn has come," thought Prince Andrew, 
and striking his horse he rode up to Kutiizov. 

"The Apsherons must be stopped, your ex- 
cellency," cried he. But at that very instant a 
cloud of smoke spread all round, firing was 
heard quite close at hand, and a voice of naive 
terror barely two steps from Prince Andrew 
shouted, "Brothers! All's lost!" And at this 
voice, as if at a command, everyone began to 
run. 

Confused and ever-increasing crowds were 
running back to where five minutes before the 
troops had passed the Emperors. Not only 
would it have been difficult to stop that crowd, 
it was even impossible not to be carried back 
with it oneself. Bolk6nski only tried not to lose 
touch with it, and looked around bewildered 
and unable to grasp what was happening in 
front of him. Nesvftski with an angry face, red 
and unlike himself, was shouting to Kutiizov 
that if he did not ride away at once he would 
certainly be taken prisoner. Kutiizov remained 
in the same place and without answering drew 
out a handkerchief. Blood was flowing from 
his cheek. Prince Andrew forced his way to 
him. 

"You are wounded?" he asked, hardly able 
to master the trembling of his lower jaw. 

"The wound is not here, it is there!" said 
Kutiizov, pressing the handkerchief to his 
wounded cheek and pointing to the fleeing 
soldiers. "Stop them!" he shouted, and at the 
same moment, probably realizing that it was 
impossible to stop them, spurred his horse and 
rode to the right. 

A fresh wave of the flying mob caught him 
and bore him back with it. 

The troops were running in such a dense 
mass that once surrounded by them it was dif- 
ficult to get out again. One was shouting, "Get 
on! Why are you hinderingus?" Another in the 
same place turned round and fired in the air; a 
third was striking the horse Kutiizov himself 
rode. Having by a great effort got away to the 
left from that flood of men, Kutiizov, with his 
suite diminished by more than half, rode to- 
ward a sound of artillery fire near by. Having 
forced his way out of the crowd of fugitives, 



156 



WAR AND PEACE 



Prince Andrew, trying to keep near Kutuzov, 
saw on the slope of the hill amid the smoke a 
Russian battery that was still firingand French- 
men running toward it. Higher up stood some 
Russian infantry, neither moving forward to 
protect the battery nor backward with the flee- 
ing crowd. A mounted general separated him- 
self from the infantry and approached Kuttizov. 
Of Kutrizov's suite only four remained. They 
were all pale and exchanged looks in silence. 

"Stop those wretches 1" gasped Kutuzov to 
the regimental commander, pointing to the 
flying soldiers; but at that instant, as if to pun- 
ish him for those words, bullets flew hissing 
across the regiment and across Kutiizov's suite 
like a flock of little birds. 

The French had attacked the battery and, 
seeing Kutuzov, were firing at him. After this 
volley the regimental commander clutched at 
his leg; several soldiers fell, and a second lieu- 
tenant who was holding the flag let it fall from 
his hands. It swayed and fell, but caught on the 
muskets of the nearest soldiers. The soldiers 
started firing without orders. 

"Oh! Oh! Oh I 1 ' groaned Kutuzov despairing- 
ly and looked around. . . . "Bolk6nski!" he 
whispered, his voice trembling from a con- 
sciousness of the feebleness of age, "Bolk6nski ! " 
he whispered, pointing to the disordered bat- 
talion and at the enemy, "what's that?" 

But before he had finished speaking, Prince 
Andrew, feeling tears of shame and anger 
choking him, had already leapt from his horse 
and run to the standard. 

"Forward, lads!" he shouted in a voice pierc- 
ing as a child's. 

"Here it is!" thought he, seizing the staff of 
the standard and hearing with pleasure the 
whistle of 'bullets evidently aimed at him. Sev- 
eral soldiers fell. 

"Hurrah!" shouted Prince Andrew, and, 
scarcely able to hold up the heavy standard, he 
ran forward with full confidence that the whole 
battalion would follow him. 

And really he only ran a few steps alone. 
One soldier moved and then another and soon 
the whole battalion ran forward shouting "Hur- 
rah!" and overtook him. A sergeant of the bat- 
talion ran up and took the flag that was sway- 
ing from its weight in Prince Andrew's hands, 
but he was immediately killed. Prince Andrew 
again seized the standard and, dragging it by 
the staff, ran on with the battalion. In front he 
saw our artillerymen, some of whom were fight- 
ing, while others, having abandoned theirguns, 
were running toward him. He also saw French 



infantry soldiers who were seizing the artillery 
horses and turning the guns round. Prince An- 
drew and the battalion were already within 
twenty paces of the cannon. He heard the whis- 
tle of bullets above him unceasingly and to 
right and left of him soldiers continually 
groaned and dropped. But he did not look at 
them: he looked only at what was going on in 
front of him at the battery. He now saw clear- 
ly the figure of a red-haired gunner with his 
shako knocked awry, pulling one end of a mop 
while a French soldier tugged at the other. He 
could distinctly see the distraught yet angry 
expression on the faces of these two men, 
who evidently did not realize what they were 
doing. 

"What are they about?" thought Prince An- 
drew as he gazed at them. "Why doesn't the 
red-haired gunner run away as he is unarmed? 
Why doesn't the Frenchman stab him? He will 
not get away before the Frenchman remembers 
his bayonet and stabs him. . . ." 

And really another French soldier, trailing 
his musket, ran up to the struggling men, and 
the fate of the red-haired gunner, who had tri- 
umphantly secured the mop and still did not 
realize what awaited him, was about to be de- 
cided. But Prince Andrew did not see how it 
ended. It seemed to him as though one of the 
soldiers near him hit him on the head with the 
full swing of a bludgeon. It hurt a little, but 
the worst of it was that the pain distracted him 
and prevented his seeing what he had been 
looking at. 

"What's this? Am I falling? My legs are giv- 
ing way," thought he, and fell on his back. He 
opened his eyes, hoping to see how the strug- 
gle of the Frenchmen with the gunners ended, 
whether the red-haired gunner had been killed 
or not and whether the cannon had been cap- 
tured or saved. But he saw nothing. Above 
him there was now nothing but the sky the 
lofty sky, not clear yet still immeasurably lofty, 
with gray clouds gliding slowly across it. "How 
quiet, peaceful, and solemn; notat all as I ran," 
thought Prince Andrew "not as we ran, shout- 
ing and fighting, not at all as the gunner and 
the Frenchman with frightened and angry 
faces struggled for the mop: how differently do 
those clouds glide across that lofty infinite sky! 
How was it I did not see that lofty sky before? 
And how happy I am to have found it at last! 
Yes! All is vanity, all falsehood, except that in- 
finite sky. There is nothing, nothing, but that. 
But even it does not exist, there is nothing but 
quiet and peace. Thank God! . . ." 



BOOK THREE 



'57 



CHAPTER XVII 

ON OUR RIGHT FLANK commanded by Bagrati6n, 
at nine o'clock the battle had not yet begun. 
Not wishing to agree to Dolgorukov's demand 
to commence the action, and wishing to avert 
responsibility from himself, Prince Bagrati6n 
proposed to Dolgorukov to send to inquire of 
the commander in chief. Bagrati6n knew that 
as the distance between the two flanks was 
more than six miles, even if the messenger 
were not killed (which he very likely would 
be), and found the commander in chief (which 
would be very difficult), he would not be able 
to get back before evening. 

Bagrati6n cast his large, expressionless, sleepy 
eyes round his suite, and the boyish face of Ros- 
tov, breathless with excitement and hope, was 
the first to catch his eye. He sent him. 

"And if I should meet His Majesty before I 
meet the commander in chief, your excellency?" 
said Rost6v, with his hand to his cap. 

"You can give the message to His Majesty," 
said Dolgorukov, hurriedly interrupting Ba- 
grati6n. 

On being relieved from picket duty Rost6v 
had managed to get a few hours' sleep before 
morning and felt cheerful, bold, and resolute, 
with elasticity of movement, faith in his good 
fortune, and generally in that state of mind 
which makes everything seem possible, pleas- 
ant, and easy. 

All his wishes were being fulfilled that morn- 
ing: there was to be a general engagement in 
which he was taking part, more than that, he 
was orderly to the bravest general, and still 
more, he was going with a message to Kutiizov, 
perhaps even to the sovereign himself. The 
morning was bright, he had a good horse under 
him, and his heart was full of joy and happi- 
ness. On receiving the order he gave his horse 
the rein and galloped along the line. At first 
he rode along the line of Bagrati6n's troops, 
which had not yet advanced into action but 
were standing motionless; then he came to the 
region occupied by Uvarov's cavalry and here 
he noticed a stir and signs of preparation for 
battle; having passed Uvarov's cavalry he clear- 
ly heard the sound of cannon and musketry 
ahead of him. The firing grew louder and loud- 
er. 

In the fresh morning air were now heard, 
not two or three musket shots at irregular in- 
tervals as before, followed by one or two can- 
non shots, but a roll of volleys of musketry 
from the slopes of the hill before Pratzen, in- 
terrupted by such frequent reports of cannon 



that sometimes several of them were not sep- 
arated from one another but merged into a 
general roar. 

He could see puffs of musketry smoke that 
seemed to chase one another down the hill- 
sides, and clouds of cannon smoke rolling, 
spreading, and mingling with one another. He 
could also, by the gleam of bayonets visible 
through the smoke, make out moving masses 
of infantry and narrow lines of artillery with 
green caissons. 

Rost6v stopped his horse for a moment on a 
hillock to see what was going on, but strain his 
attention as he would he could not understand 
or make out anything of what was happening: 
there in the smoke men of some sort were mov- 
ing about, and in front and behind moved lines 
of troops; but why, whither, and who they were, 
it was impossible to make out. These sights and 
sounds had no depressing or intimidating ef- 
fect on him; on the contrary, they stimulated 
his energy and determination. 

"Go on! Go on! Give it them!" he mentally 
exclaimed at these sounds, and again proceed- 
ed to gallop along the line, penetrating farther 
and farther into the region where the army 
was already in action. 

"How it will be there I don't know, but all 
will be well!" thought Rost6v. 

After passing some Austrian troops he no- 
ticed that the next part of the line (the Guards) 
was already in action. 

"So much the better! I shall see it close," he 
thought. 

He was riding almost along the front line. A 
handful of men came galloping toward him. 
They were our Uhlans who with disordered 
ranks were returning from the attack. Rost6v 
got out of their way, involuntarily noticed that 
one of them was bleeding, and galloped on. 

"That is no business of mine," he thought. 
He had not ridden many hundred yards after 
that before he saw to his left, across the whole 
width of the field, an enormous mass of caval- 
ry in brilliant white uniforms, mounted on 
black horses, trotting straight toward him and 
across his path. Rostov put his horse to full 
gallop to get out of the way of these men, and 
he would have got clear had they continued at 
the same speed, but they kept increasing their 
pace, so that some of the horses were already 
galloping. Rost6v heard the thud of their hoofs 
and the jingle of their weapons and saw their 
horses, their figures, and even their faces, 
more and more distinctly. They were our 
Horse Guards, advancing to attack the French 



WAR AND PEACE 



cavalry that was coming to meet them. 

The Horse Guards were galloping, but still 
holding in their horses. Rost6v could already 
see their faces and heard the command: 
"Charge! "shouted by an officer who was urging 
his thoroughbred to full speed. Rost6v, fearing 
to be crushed or swept into the attack on the 
French, galloped along the front as hard as his 
horse could go, but still was not in time to avoid 
them. 

The last of the Horse Guards, a huge pock- 
marked fellow, frowned angrily on seeing Ros- 
t6v before him, with whom he would inevita- 
bly collide. This Guardsman would certainly 
have bowled Rost6v and his Bedouin over 
(Rost6v felt himself quite tiny and weak com- 
pared to these gigantic men and horses) had it 
not occurred to Rost6v to flourish his whip be- 
fore the eyes of the Guardsman's horse. The 
heavy black horse, sixteen hands high, shied, 
throwing back its ears; but the pockmarked 
Guardsman drove his huge spurs in violently, 
and the horse, flourishing its tail and extending 
its neck, galloped on yet faster. Hardly had the 
Horse Guards passed Rost6v before he heard 
them shout, "Hurrah!" and looking back saw 
that their foremost ranks were mixed up with 
some foreign cavalry with red epaulets, prob- 
ably French. He could see nothing more, for 
immediately afterwards cannon began firing 
from somewhere and smoke enveloped every- 
thing. 

At that moment, as the Horse Guards, hav- 
ing passed him, disappeared in the smoke, Ros- 
t6v hesitated whether to gallop after them or 
to go where he was sent. This was the brilliant 
charge of the Horse Guards that amazed the 
French themselves. Rost6v was horrified to 
hear later that of all that mass of huge and 
handsome men, of all those brilliant, rich 
youths, officers and cadets, who had galloped 
past him on their thousand-ruble horses, only 
eighteen were left after the charge. 

"Why should I envy them? My chance is not 
lost, ancUnaybe I shall see the Emperor imme- 
diately!" thojught Rost6v and galloped on. 

When he came level with the Foot Guards 
he noticed that about them and around them 
cannon balls were flying, of which he was 
aware not so much because he heard their 
sound as because he saw uneasiness on the sol- 
diers' faces and unnatural warlike solemnity 
on those of the officers. 

Passing behind one of the lines of a regiment 
of Foot Guards he heard a voice calling him 
by name. 



"Rost6v!" 

"What?" he answered, not recognizing Boris. 

"I say, we've been in the front line! Our reg- 
iment attacked!" said Boris with the happy 
smile seen on the faces of young men who have 
been under fire for the first time. 

Rost6v stopped. 

"Have you?" he said. "Well, how did it go?" 

"We drove them back!" said Boris with an- 
imation, growing talkative. "Can you imagine 
it?" and he began describing how the Guards, 
having taken up their position and seeing 
troops before them, thought they were Austri- 
ans, and all at once discovered from the cannon 
balls discharged by those troops that they were 
themselves in the front line and had unexpect- 
edly to go into action. RostcW without hearing 
Boris to the end spurred his horse. 

"Where are you off to?" asked Boris. 

"With a message to His Majesty." 

"There he is!" said Boris, thinking Rost6v 
had said "His Highness," and pointing to the 
Grand Duke who with his high shoulders and 
frowning brows stood a hundred paces away 
from them in his helmet and Horse Guards' 
jacket, shouting something to a pale, white- 
uniformed Austrian officer. 

"But that's the Grand Duke, and I want the 
commander in chief or the Emperor," said 
Rost6v, and was about to spur his horse. 

"Count! Count!" shouted Berg who ran up 
from the other side as eager as Boris. "Count! 
I am wounded in my right hand" (and he 
showed his bleeding hand with a handkerchief 
tied round it) "and I remained at the front. I 
held my sword in my left hand, Count. All oui 
family the von Bergs have been knights!" 

He said something more, but Rost6v did 
not wait to hear it and rode away. 

Having passed the Guards and traversed an 
empty space, Rostov, to avoid again getting in 
front of the first line as he had done when the 
Horse Guards charged, followed the line of 
reserves, going far round the place where the 
hottest musket fire and cannonade were heard. 
Suddenly he heard musket fire quite close in 
front of him and behind our troops, where he 
could never have expected the enemy to be. 

"What can it be?" he thought. "The enemy 
in the rear of our army? Impossible!" And sud- 
denly he was seized by a panic of fear for him- 
self and for the issue of the whole battle. "But 
be that what it may," he reflected, "there is no 
riding round it now. I must look for the com- 
mander in chief here, and if all is lost it is for 
me to perish with the rest." 



BOOK THREE 



The foreboding of evil that had suddenly 
come over Rost6v was more and more con- 
firmed the farther he rode into the region be- 
hind the village of Pratzen, which was full of 
troops of all kinds. 

"What does it mean? What is it? Whom are 
they firing at? Who is firing?" Rost6v kept ask- 
ing as he came up to Russian and Austrian sol- 
diers running in confused crowds across his 
path. 

"The devil knowsl They've killed everybody! 
It's all up nowl" he was told in Russian, Ger- 
man, and Czech by the crowd of fugitives who 
understood what was happening as little as he 
did. 

"Kill the Germans!" shouted one. 

"May the devil take them the traitors!" 

"Zum Henker diese Russen!" l muttered a 
German. 

Several wounded men passed along the road, 
and words of abuse, screams, and groans min- 
gled in a general hubbub, then the firing died 
down. Rost6v learned later that Russian and 
Austrian soldiers had been firing at one anoth- 
er. 

"My God! What does it all mean?" thought 
he. "And here, where at any moment the Em- 
peror may see them. . . . But no, these must be 
only a handful of scoundrels. It will soon be 
over, it can't be that, it can't be! Only to get 
past them quicker, quicker! " 

The idea of defeat and flight could not en- 
ter Rostov's head. Though he saw French can- 
non and French troops on the Pratzen Heights 
just where he had been ordered to look for the 
commander in chief, he could not, did not 
wish to, believe that. 

CHAPTER XVIII 

Rosx6v had been ordered to look for Kutuzov 
and the Emperor near the village of Pratzen. 
But neither they nor a single commanding of- 
ficer were there, only disorganized crowds of 
troops of various kinds. He urged on his al- 
ready weary horse to get quickly past these 
crowds, but the farther he went the more dis- 
organized they were. The highroad on which 
he had come out was thronged with caliches, 
carriages of all sorts, and Russian and Austri- 
an soldiers of all arms, some wounded and 
some not. This whole mass droned and jostled 
in confusion under the dismal influence of 
cannon balls flying from the French batteries 
stationed on the Pratzen Heights. 

"Where is the Emperor? Where is Kutuzov?" 

1 "Hang these Russians!" 



Rost6v kept asking everyone he could stop 
but got no answer from anyone. 

At last seizing a soldier by his collar he forcec 
him to answer. 

"Eh, brother! They've all bolted long ago!' 
said the soldier, laughing for some reason anc 
shaking himself free. 

Having left that soldier who was evidently 
drunk, Rost6v stopped the horse of a batmar 
or groom of some important personage and be 
gan to question him. The man announcec 
that the Tsar had been driven in a carriage ai 
full speed about an hour before along thatver 
road and that he was dangerously wounded. 

"It can't be!" said Rost6v. "It must hav< 
been someone else." 

"I saw him myself," replied the man with ; 
self-confident smile of derision. "I ought tc 
know the Emperor by now, after the times I'v< 
seen him in Petersburg. I saw him just as I se< 
you. . . . There he sat in the carriage as pale a 
any thing. How they made the four black horse 
fly! Gracious me, they did rattle past! It's tim< 
I knew the Imperial horses and Ilya Ivdnych. 
don't think Ilya drives anyone except th< 
Tsar!" 

Rost6v let go of the horse and was about t< 
ride on, when a wounded officer passing by ad 
dressed him: 

"Who is it you want?" he asked. "The com 
mander in chief? He was killed by a cannoi 
ball struck in the breast before our regiment. 1 

"Not killed wounded!" another officer coi 
reeled him. 

"Who? Kutuzov?" asked Rost6v. 

"Not Kutuzov, but what's his name well 
never mind . . . there are not many left alive 
Go that way, to that village, all the command 
ers are there," said the officer, pointing to th< 
village of Hosjeradek, and he walked on. 

Rost6v rode on at a footpace not knowin] 
why or to whom he was now going. The Em 
peror was wounded, the battle lost. It was im 
possible to doubt it now. Rost6v rode in th 
direction pointed out to him, in which he sa\ 
turrets and a church. What need to hurry 
What was he now to say to the Tsar or to Ku 
tiizov, even if they were alive and un wounded 

"Take this road, your honor, that way yoi 
will be killed at oncel" a soldier shouted t< 
him. "They'd kill you there!" 

"Oh, what are you talking about?" said an 
other. "Where is he to go? That way is nearer. 

Rost6v considered, and then went in the di 
rection where they said he would be killed. 

"It's all the same now. If the Emperor i 



i6o 



WAR AND PEACE 



wounded, am I to try to save myself?" he 
thought. He rode on to the region where the 
greatest number of men had perished in flee- 
ing from Pratzen. The French had not yet oc- 
cupied that region, and the Russians the un- 
injured and slightly woundedhad left it long 
ago. All about the field, like heaps of manure 
on well-kept plowland, lay from ten to fifteen 
dead and wounded to each couple of acres. The 
wounded crept together in twos and threes and 
one could hear their distressing screams and 
groans, sometimes feigned or so it seemed to 
Rost6v. He put his horse to a trot to avoid see- 
ing all these suffering men, and he felt afraid- 
afraid not for his life, but for the courage he 
needed and which he knew would not stand 
the sight of these unfortunates. 

The French, who had ceased firing at this 
field strewn with dead and wounded where 
there was no one left to fire at, on seeing an 
adjutant riding over it trained a gun on him 
and fired several shots. The sensation of those 
terrible whistling sounds and of the corpses 
around him merged in Rost6v's mind into a 
single feeling of terror and pity for himself. 
He remembered his mother's last letter. "What 
would she feel," thought he, "if she saw me 
here now on this field with the cannon aimed 
at me?" 

In the village of Hosjeradek there were Rus- 
sian troops retiring from the field of battle, 
who though still in some confusion were less 
disordered. The French cannon did not reach 
there and the musketry fire sounded far away. 
Here everyone clearly saw and said that the 
battle was lost. No one whom Rost6v asked 
could tell him where the Emperor or Kuttizov 
was. Some said the report that the Emperor 
was wounded was correct, others that it was 
not, and explained the false rumor that had 
spread by the fact that the Emperor's carriage 
had really galloped from the field of battle 
with the pale and terrified Ober-Hofmarschal 
Count Tolst6y, who had ridden out to the bat- 
tlefield with others in the Emperor's suite. One 
officer told Rost6v that he had seen someone 
from headquarters behind the village to the 
left, and thither Rost6v rode, not hoping to 
find anyone but merely to ease his conscience. 
When he had ridden about two miles and had 
passed the last of the Russian troops, he saw, 
near a kitchen garden with a ditch round it, 
two men on horseback facing the ditch. One 
with a white plume in his hat seemed familiar 
to Rostov; the other on a beautiful chestnut 
horse (which Rost6v fancied he had seen be- 



fore) rode up to the ditch, struck his horse with 
his spurs, and giving it the rein leaped lightly 
over. Only a little earth crumbled from the 
bank under the horse's hind hoofs. Turning 
the horse sharply, he again jumped the ditch, 
and deferentially addressed the horseman with 
the white plumes, evidently suggesting that he 
should do the same. The rider, whose figure 
seemed familiar to Rost6v and involuntarily 
riveted his attention, made a gesture of refusal 
with his head and hand and by that gesture 
Rost6v instantly recognized his lamented and 
adored monarch. 

"But it can't be he, alone in the midst of this 
empty field 1" thought Rost6v. At that moment 
Alexander turned his head and Rost6v saw the 
beloved features that were so deeply engraved 
on his memory. The Emperor was pale, his 
cheeks sunken and his eyes hollow, but the 
charm, the mildness of his features, was all the 
greater. Rost6v was happy in the assurance 
that the rumors about the Emperor being 
wounded were false. He was happy to be see- 
ing him. He knew that he might and even ought 
to go straight to him and give the message Dol- 
gorukov had ordered him to deliver. 

But as a youth in love trembles, is unnerved, 
and dares not utter the thoughts he has dreamed 
of for nights, but looks around for help or a 
chance of delay and flight when the longed-for 
moment comes and he is alone with her, so 
Rost6v, now that he had attained what he had 
longed for more than anything else in the 
world, did not know how to approach the Em- 
peror, and a thousand reasons occurred to him 
why it would be inconvenient, unseemly, and 
impossible to do so. 

"What I It is as if I were glad of a chance to 
take advantage of his being alone and de- 
spondent! A strange face may seem unpleasant 
or painful to him at this moment of sorrow; 
besides, what can I say to him now, when my 
heart fails me and my mouth feels dry at the 
mere sight of him?" Not one of the innumer- 
able speeches addressed to the Emperor that 
he had composed in his imagination could he 
now recall. Those speeches were intended for 
quite other conditions, they were for the most 
part to be spoken at a moment of victory and 
triumph, generally when he was dying of 
wounds and the sovereign had thanked him 
for heroic deeds, and while dying he expressed 
the love his actions had proved. 

"Besides how can I ask the Emperor for his 
instructions for the right flank now that it is 
nearly four o'clock and the battle is lost? No, 



BOOK THREE 



161 



certainly I must not approach him, I must not 
intrude on his reflections. Better die a thou- 
sand times than risk receiving an unkind look 
or bad opinion from him," Rost6v decided; 
and sorrowfully and with a heart full of despair 
he rode away, continually looking back at the 
Tsar, who still remained in the same attitude 
of indecision. 

While Rost6v was thus arguing with him- 
self and riding sadly away, Captain von Toll 
chanced to ride to the same spot, and seeing 
the Emperor at once rode up to him, offered 
his services, and assisted him to cross the ditch 
on foot. The Emperor, wishing to rest and feel- 
ing unwell, sat down under an apple tree and 
von Toll remained beside him. Rost6v from a 
distance saw with envy and remorse how von 
Toll spoke long and warmly to the Emperor 
and how the Emperor, evidently weeping, cov- 
ered his eyes with his hand and pressed von 
Toll's hand. 

"And I might have been in his place!" 
thought Rostov, and hardly restraining his 
tears of pity for the Emperor, he rode on in 
utter despair, not knowing where to or why he 
was now riding. 

His despair was all the greater from feeling 
that his own weakness was the cause of his grief. 

He might . . . not only might but should, 
have gone up to the sovereign. It was a unique 
chance to show his devotion to the Emperor 

and he had not made use of it "What have 

I done?" thought he. And he turned round 
and galloped back to the place where he had 
seen the Emperor, but there was no one be- 
yond the ditch now. Only some carts and car- 
riages were passing by. From one of the drivers 
he learned that Kutuzov's staff were not far off, 
in the village the vehicles were going to. Ros- 
tov followed them. In front of him walked Ku- 
tuzov's groom leading horses in horsecloths. 
Then came a cart, and behind that walked an 
old, bandy-legged domestic serf in a peaked 
cap and sheepskin coat. 

"Tit! I say, Tit!" said the groom. 

"What?" answered the old man absent-mind- 
edly. 

"Go, Tit! Thresh a bit!" 

"Oh, you fool!" said the old man, spitting 
angrily. Some time passed in silence, and then 
the same joke was repeated. 

Before five in the evening the battle had 
been lost at all points. More than a hundred 
cannon were already in the hands of the French. 

Przebyszlwski and his corps had laid down 



their arms. Other columns after losing half 
their men were retreating in disorderly con- 
fused masses. 

The remains of Langeron's andDokhtiirov's 
mingled forces were crowding around thedams 
and banks of the ponds near the village of* 
Augesd. 

After five o'clock it was only at the Augesd 
Dam that a hot cannonade (delivered by the 
French alone) was still to be heard from nu- 
merous batteries ranged on the slopes of the 
Pratzen Heights, directed at our retreating 
forces. 

In the rearguard, Dokhtiirov and others ral- 
lying some battalions kept up a musketry fire 
at the French cavalry that was pursuing our 
troops. It was growing dusk. On the narrow 
Augesd Dam where for so many years the old 
miller had been accustomed tositinhistasseled 
cap peacefully angling, while his grandson, 
with shirt sleeves rolled up, handled the floun- 
dering silvery fish in the watering can, on that 
dam over which for so many years Moravians 
in shaggy caps and blue jackets had peacefully 
driven their two-horse carts loaded with wheat 
and had returned dusty with flour whitening 
their carts on that narrow dam amid the wag- 
ons and the cannon, under the horses' hoofs 
and between the wagon wheels, men disfigured 
by fear of death now crowded together, crush- 
ing one another, dying, stepping over the dy- 
ing and killing one another, only to move on a 
few steps and be killed themselves in the same 
way. 

Every ten seconds a cannon ball flew com- 
pressing the air around, or a shell burst in the 
midst of that dense throng, killing some and 
splashing with blood those near them. 

D61okhov now an officer wounded in the 
arm, and on foot, with the regimental com- 
mander on horseback and some ten men of 
his company, represented all that was left of 
that whole regiment. Impelled by the crowd, 
they had got wedged in at the approach to the 
dam and, jammed in on all sides, had stopped 
because a horse in front had fallen under a 
cannon and the crowd were dragging it out. A 
cannon ball killed someone behind them, an- 
other fell in front and splashed D61okhov with 
blood. The crowd, pushing forward desperate- 
ly, squeezed together, moved a few steps, and 
again stopped. 

"Move on a hundred yards and we are cer- 
tainly saved, remain here another two minutes 
and it is certain death," thought each one. 

D61okhov who was in the midst of the crowd 



162 



WAR AND PEACE 



forced his way to the edge of the dam, throw- 
ing two soldiers off their feet, and ran onto the 
slippery ice that covered the millpool. 

"Turn this way!" he shouted, jumping over 
the ice which creaked under him; "turn this 
way!" he shouted to those with the gun. "It 
bears! . . ." 

The ice bore him but it swayed and creaked, 
and it was plain that it would give way not on- 
ly under a cannon or a crowd, but very soon 
even under his weight alone. The men looked 
at him and pressed to the bank, hesitating to 
step onto the ice. The general on horseback at 
the entrance to the dam raised his hand and 
opened his mouth to address D61okhov. Sud- 
denly a cannon ball hissed so low above the 
crowd that everyone ducked. It flopped into 
something moist, and the general fell from his 
horse in a pool of blood. Nobody gave him a 
look or thought of raising him. 

"Get onto the ice, over the ice! Go on! 
Turn! Don't you hear? Go on!" innumerable 
voices suddenly shouted after the ball had 
struck the general, the men themselves not 
knowing what, or why, they were shouting. 

One of the hindmost guns that was going 
onto the dam turned off onto the ice. Crowds 
of soldiers from the dam began running onto 
the frozen pond. The ice gave way under one 
of the foremost soldiers, and one leg slipped 
into the water. He tried to right himself but 
fell in up to his waist. The nearest soldiers 
shrank back, the gun driver stopped his horse, 
but from behind still came the shouts: "Onto 
the ice, why do you stop? Go on! Go on!" And 
cries of horror were heard in the crowd. The 
soldiers near the gun waved their arms and 
beat the horses to make them turn and move 
on. The horses moved off the bank. The ice, 
that had held under those on foot, collapsed 
in a great mass, and some forty men who were 
on it dashed, some forward and some back, 
drowning one another. 

Still the cannon balls continued regularly to 
whistle and flop onto the ice and into the wa- 
ter and oftenest of all among the crowd that 
covered the dam, the pond, and the bank. 

CHAPTER XIX 

ON THE PRATZEN HEIGHTS, where he had fallen 
with the flagstaff in his hand, lay Prince An- 
drew Bolk6nski bleeding profusely and un- 
consciously uttering a gentle, piteous, and 
childlike moan. 

Toward evening he ceased moaning and be- 
came quite still. He did not know how long 



his unconsciousness lasted. Suddenly he again 
felt that he was alive and suffering from a burn- 
ing, lacerating pain in his head. 

"Where is it, that lofty sky that I did not 
know till now, but saw today?" was his first 
thought. "And I did not know this suffering 
either," he thought. "Yes, I did not know any- 
thing, anything at all till now. But where am 
I?" 

He listened and heard the sound of approach- 
ing horses, and voices speaking French. He 
opened his eyes. Above him again was the same 
lofty sky with clouds that had risen and were 
floating still higher, and between them gleamed 
blue infinity. He did not turn his head and did 
not see those who, judging by the sound of 
hoofs and voices, had ridden up and stopped 
near him. 

It was Napoleon accompanied by two aides- 
de-camp. Bonaparte riding over the battlefield 
had given final orders to strengthen the bat- 
teries firing at the Augesd Dam and was look- 
ing at the killed and wounded left on the field. 

"Fine men!" remarked Napoleon, looking 
at a dead Russian grenadier, who, with his face 
buried in the ground and a blackened nape, 
lay on his stomach with an already stiffened 
arm flung wide. 

"The ammunition for the guns in position 
is exhausted, Your Majesty," said an adjutant 
who had come from the batteries that were fir- 
ing at Augesd. 

"Have some brought from the reserve," said 
Napoleon, and having gone on a few steps he 
stopped before Prince Andrew, who lay on his 
back with the flagstaff that had been dropped 
beside him. (The flag had already been taken 
by the French as a trophy.) 

"That's a fine death!" said Napoleon as he 
gazed at Bolk6nski. 

Prince Andrew understood that this was 
said of him and that it was Napoleon who said 
it. He heard the speaker addressed as Sire. But 
he heard the words as he might have heard the 
buzzing of a fly. Not only did they not interest 
him, but he took no notice of them and at once 
forgot them. His head was burning, he felt 
himself bleeding to death, and he saw above 
him the remote, lofty, and everlasting sky. He 
knew it was Napoleon his hero but at that 
moment Napoleon seemed to him such a small, 
insignificant creature compared with what was 
passing now between himself and that lofty in- 
finite sky with the clouds flying over it. At that 
moment it meant nothing to him who might 
be standing over him, or what was said of him; 



he was only glad that people were standing 
near him and only wished that they would help 
him and bring him back to life, which seemed 
to him so beautiful now that he had today 
learned to understand it so differently. He col- 
lected all his strength, to stir and utter a sound. 
He feebly moved his leg and uttered a weak, 
sickly groan which aroused his own pity. 

"Ah! He is alive," said Napoleon. "Lift this 
young man up and carry him to the dressing 
station." 

Having said this, Napoleon rode on to meet 
Marshal Lannes, who, hat in hand, rode up 
smiling to the Emperor to congratulate him 
on the victory. 

Prince Andrew remembered nothing more: 
he lost consciousness from the terrible pain of 
being lifted onto the stretcher, the jolting 
while being moved, and the probing of his 
wound at the dressing station. He did not re- 
gain consciousness till late in the day, when 
with other wounded and captured Russian of- 
ficers he was carried to the hospital. During 
this transfer he felt a little stronger and was 
able to look about him and even speak. 

The first words he heard on coming to his 
senses were those of a French convoy officer, 
who said rapidly: "We must halt here: the Em- 
peror will pass here immediately; it will please 
him to see these gentlemen prisoners." 

"There are so many prisoners today, nearly 
the whole Russian army, that he is probably 
tired of them," said another officer. 

"All the samel They say this one is the com- 
mander of all the Emperor Alexander's 
Guards," said the first one, indicating a Rus- 
sian officer in the white uniform of the Horse 
Guards. 

Bolk6nski recognized Prince Repnin whom 
he had met in Petersburg society. Beside him 
stood a lad of nineteen, also a wounded officer 
of the Horse Guards. 

Bonaparte, having come up at a gallop, 
stopped his horse. 

"Which is the senior?" he asked, on seeing 
the prisoners. 

They named the colonel, Prince Repnfn. 

"You are the commander of the Emperor 
Alexander's regiment of Horse Guards?" asked 
Napoleon. 

"Icommandedasquadron," replied Repnin. 

"Your regiment fulfilled its duty honorably," 
said Napoleon. 

"The praise of a great commander is a sol- 
dier's highest reward," said Repnin. 

"I bestow it with pleasure," said Napoleon. 



BOOK THREE 163 

"And who is that young man beside you?" 



Prince Repnfn named Lieutenant Sukht- 
len. 

After looking at him Napoleon smiled. 

"He's very young to come to meddle with 
us." 

"Youth is no hindrance to courage," mut- 
tered Sukhtlen in a failing voice. 

"A splendid reply!" said Napoleon. "Young 
man, you will go far!" 

Prince Andrew, who had also been brought 
forward before the Emperor's eyes to complete 
the show of prisoners, could not fail to attract 
his attention. Napoleon apparently remem- 
bered seeing him on the battlefield and, ad- 
dressing him, again used the epithet "young 
man" that was connected in his memory with 
Prince Andrew. 

"Well, and you, young man," said he. "How 
do you feel, mon brave?" 

Though five minutes before, Prince Andrew 
had been able to say a few words to the sol- 
diers who were carrying him, now with his eyes 
fixed straight on Napoleon, he was silent. . . . 
So insignificant at that moment seemed to him 
all the interests that engrossed Napoleon, so 
mean did his hero himself with his paltry 
vanity and joy in victory appear, compared to 
the lofty, equitable, and kindly sky which he 
had seen and understood, that he could not 
answer him. 

Every thing seemed so futile and insignificant 
in comparison with the stern and solemn train 
of thought that weakness from loss of blood, 
suffering, and the nearness of death aroused 
in him. Looking into Napoleon's eyes Prince 
Andrew thought of the insignificance of great- 
ness, the unimportance of life which no one 
could understand, and the still greater unim- 
portance of death, the meaning of which no 
one alive could understand or explain. 

The Emperor without waiting for an an- 
swer turned away and said to one of the officers 
as he went: "Have these gentlemen attended 
to and taken to my bivouac; let my doctor, Lar- 
rey, examine their wounds. Au revoir, Prince 
Repnfnl" and he spurred his horse and gal- 
loped away. 

His face shone with self-satisfaction and 
pleasure. 

The soldiers who had carried Prince An- 
drew had noticed and taken the little gold icon 
Princess Mary had hung round her brother's 
neck, but seeing the favor the Emperor showed 
the prisoners, they now hastened to return the 
holy image. 



164 



WAR AND PEACE 



Prince Andrew did not see how and by whom 
it was replaced, but the little icon with its thin 
gold chain suddenly appeared upon his chest 
outside his uniform. 

"It would be good," thought Prince Andrew, 
glancing at the icon his sister had hung round 
his neck with such emotion and reverence, "it 
would be good if everything were as clear and 
simple as it seems to Mary. How good it would 
be to know where to seek for help in this life, 
and what to expect after it beyond the grave! 
How happy and calm I should be if I could now 
say: 'Lord, have mercy on me!' . . . But to 
whom should I say that? Either to a Power in- 
definable, incomprehensible, which I not only 
cannot address but which I cannot even ex- 
press in words the Great All or Nothing" 
said he to himself, "or to that God who has 



increased and he grew delirious. Visions of 
his father, wife, sister, and future son, and 
the tenderness he had felt the night before 
the battle, the figure of the insignificant little 
Napoleon, and above all this the lofty sky, 
formed the chief subjects of his delirious 
fancies. 

The quiet home life and peaceful happiness 
of Bald Hills presented itself to him. He was 
already enjoying that happiness when that lit- 
tle Napoleon had suddenly appeared with his 
unsympathizing look of shortsighted delight at 
the misery of others, and doubts and torments 
had followed, and only the heavens promised 
peace. Toward morningall these dreams melted 
and merged into the chaos and darkness of un- 
consciousenss and oblivion, which in the opin- 
ion of Napoleon's doctor, Larrey, was much 



been sewn into this amulet by Mary I/There is more likely to end in death than in convales- 



nothing certain, nothing at all except the un- 
importance of everything I understand, and 
the greatness of something incomprehensible 
but all-importantj 

The stretchers moved on. At every jolt he 
again felt unendurable pain; his feverishness 



cence. 

"He is a nervous, bilious subject," said Lar- 
rey, "and will not recover." 

And Prince Andrew, with others fatally 
wounded, was left to the care of the inhabit- 
ants of the district. 



Book Four: 1806 



CHAPTER I 

EARLY IN THE YEAR 1806 Nicholas Rost6v re- 
turned home on leave. Denisov was going home 
to Vor6nezh and Rost6v persuaded him to 
travel with him as far as Moscow and to stay 
with him there. Meeting a comrade at the last 
post station but one before Moscow, Denfsov 
had drunk three bottles of wine with him 
and, despite the jolting ruts across the snow- 
covered road, did not once wake up on the way 
to Moscow, but lay at the bottom of the sleigh 
beside Rost6v, who grew more and more im- 
patient the nearer they got to Moscow. 

"How much longer? How much longer? Oh, 
these insufferable streets, shops, bakers' sign- 
boards, street lamps, and sleighs!" thought 
Rost6v, when their leave permits had been 
passed at the town gate and they had entered 
Moscow. 

"Denfsov! We're here! He's asleep," he add- 
ed, leaning forward with his whole body as if 
in that position he hoped to hasten the speed 
of the sleigh. 

Denisov gave no answer. 

"There's the corner at the crossroads, where 
the cabman, Zakhar, has his stand, and there's 
Zakhar himself and still the same horse! And 
here's the little shop where we used to buy gin- 
gerbread! Can't you hurry up? Now then!" 

"Which house is it?" asked the driver. 

"Why, that one, right at the end, the big 
one. Don't you see? That's our house," said 
Rost6v. "Of course, it's our house! Denisov, 
Denfsov I We're almost there!" 

Denfsov raised his head, coughed, and made 
no answer. 

"Dmftri," said Rostov to his valet on the 
box, "those lights are in our house, aren't 
they?" 

"Yes, sir, and there's a light in your father's 
study." 

"Then they've not gone to bed yet? What do 
you think? Mind now, don't forget to put out 
my new coat," added Rostdv, fingering his new 
mustache. "Now then, get on," he shouted to 



the driver. "Do wake up, Vdska!" he went on, 
turning to Denfsov, whose head was again nod- 
ding. "Come, get on! You shall have three ru- 
bles for vodka get on!" Rost6v shouted, when 
the sleigh was only three houses from his door. 
It seemed to him the horses were not moving 
at all. At last the sleigh bore to the right, drew 
up at an entrance, and Rost6v saw overhead 
the old familiar cornice with a bit of plaster 
broken off, the porch, and the post by the side 
of the pavement. He sprang out before the 
sleigh stopped, and ran into the hall. The 
house stood cold and silent, as if quite regard- 
less of who had come to it. There was no one 
in the hall. "Oh God! Is everyone all right?" 
he thought, stopping for a moment with a sink- 
ing heart, and then immediately starting to 
run along the hall and up the warped steps of 
the familiar staircase. The well-known old door 
handle, which always angered the countess 
when it was not properly cleaned, turned as 
loosely as ever. A solitary tallow candle burned 
in the anteroom. 

Old Michael was asleep on the chest. Prok6- 
fy, the footman, who was so strong that he 
could lift the back of the carriage from behind, 
sat plaiting slippers out of cloth selvedges. He 
looked up at the opening door and his expres- 
sion of sleepy indifference suddenly changed 
to one of delighted amazement. 

"Gracious heavens! The young count!" he 
cried, recognizing his young master. "Can it 
be? My treasure!" and Prok6fy, trembling 
with excitement, rushed toward the drawing- 
room door, probably in order to announce 
him, but, changing his mind, came back and 
stooped to kiss the young man's shoulder. 

"All well?" asked Rost6v, drawing away his 
arm. 

"Yes, God be thanked! Yes! They've just 
finished supper. Let me have a look at you, 
your excellency." 

"Is everything quite all right?" 

"The Lord be thanked, yes!" 

Rost6v, who had completely forgotten Denf- 



165 



i66 



WAR AND PEACE 



sov, not wishing anyone to forestall him, threw 
off his fur coat and ran on tiptoe through the 
large dark ballroom. All was the same: there 
were the same old card tables and the same 
chandelier with a cover over it; but someone 
had already seen the young master, and, be- 
fore he had reached the drawing room, some- 
thing flew out from a side door like a tornado 
and began hugging and kissing him. Another 
and yet another creature of the same kind 
sprang from a second door and a third; more 
hugging, more kissing, more outcries, and tears 
of joy. He could not distinguish which was 
Papa, which Natdsha, and which Ptya. Every- 
one shouted, talked, and kissed him at the 
same time. Only his mother was not there, he 
noticed that. 

"And I did not know . . . Nicholas . . . My 
darling! . . ." 

"Here he is ... our own . . . K61ya, a dear fel- 
low . . . How he has changed! . . . Where are 
the candles? . . . Tea! . . ." 

"And me, kiss me!" 

"Dearest . . . and mel" 

S6nya, Natdsha, Pdtya, Anna Mikhdylovna, 
Ve*ra, and the old count were all hugging him, 
and the serfs, men and maids, flocked into the 
room, exclaiming and oh-ing and ah-ing. 

Pe*tya, clinging to his legs, kept shouting, 
"And me too!" 

Natdsha, after she had pulled him down to- 
ward her and covered his face with kisses, hold- 
ing him tight by the skirt of his coat, sprang 
away and pranced up and down in one place 
like a goat and shrieked piercingly. 

All around were loving eyes glistening with 
tears of joy, and all around were lips seeking a 
kiss. 

S6nya too, all rosy red, clung to his arm and, 
radiant with bliss, looked eagerly toward his 
eyes, waiting for the look for which she longed. 
S6nya now was sixteen and she was very pretty, 
especially at this moment of happy, rapturous 
excitement. She gazed at him, not taking her 
eyes off him, and smiling and holding her 
breath. He gave her a grateful look, but was 
still expectant and looking for someone. The 
old countess had not yet come. But now steps 
were heard at the door, steps so rapid that they 
could hardly be his mother's. 

Yet it was she, dressed in a new gown which 
he did not know, made since he had left. All 
the others let him go, and he ran to her. When 
they met, she fell on his breast, sobbing. She 
could not lift her face, but only pressed it to 

Nicholas. 



the cold braiding of his hussar's jacket. Denf* 
sov, who had come into the room unnoticed by 
anyone, stood there and wiped his eyes at the 
sight. 

"Vasili Denfsov, your son's friend," he said, 
introducing himself to the count, who was 
looking inquiringly at him. 

"You are most welcome! I know, I know," 
said the count, kissing and embracing Denisov. 
"Nicholas wrote us ... Natdsha, Vera, look! 
Here is Denfsovl" 

The same happy, rapturous faces turned to 
the shaggy figure of Denisov. 

"Darling Denfsovl" screamed Natdsha, be- 
side herself with rapture, springing to him, 
putting her arms round him, and kissing him. 
This escapade made everybody feel confused. 
Denfsov blushed too, but smiled and, taking 
Natdsha's hand, kissed it. 

Denfsov was shown to the room prepared 
for him, and the Rostovs all gathered round 
Nicholas in the sitting room. 

The old countess, not letting go of his hand 
and kissing it every moment, sat beside him: 
the rest, crowding round him, watched every 
movement, word, or look of his, never taking 
their blissfully adoring eyes off him. His broth- 
er and sisters struggled for the places nearest 
to him and disputed with one another who 
should bring him his tea, handkerchief, and 
pipe. 

Rost6v was very happy in the love they 
showed him; but the first moment of meeting 
had been so beatific that his present joy seemed 
insufficient, and he kept expecting something 
more, more and yet more. 

Next morning, after the fatigues of their 
journey, the travelers slept till ten o'clock. 

In the room next their bedroom there was a 
confusion of sabers, satchels, sabretaches, open 
portmanteaus, and dirty boots. Two freshly 
cleaned pairs with spurs had just been placed 
by the wall. The servants were bringing in 
jugs and basins, hot water for shaving, and 
their well-brushed clothes. There was a mascu- 
line odor and a smell of tobacco. 

"Hallo, Gwfska my pipe!" came Vasili 
Denfsov's husky voice. "Wost6v, get up!" 

Rost6v, rubbing his eyes that seemed glued 
together, raised his disheveled head from the 
hot pillow. 

"Why, is it late?" 

"Late! It's nearly ten o'clock," answered Na- 
tdsha's voice. A rustle of starched petticoats 
and the whispering and laughter of girls' voices 
came from the adjoining room. The door was 



BOOK FOUR 



167 



opened a crack and there was a glimpse of 
something blue, of ribbons, black hair, and 
merry faces. It was Natasha, S6nya, and Pdtya, 
who had come to see whether they were get- 
ting up. 

"Nicholas! Get up!" Natasha's voice was 
again heard at the door. 

"Directly!" 

Meanwhile, Pe" tya, having found and seized 
the sabers in the outer room, with the delight 
boys feel at the sight of a military elder broth- 
er, and forgetting that it was unbecoming for 
the girls to see men undressed, opened the bed- 
room door. 

"Is this your saber?" he shouted. 

The girls sprang aside. Denfsov hid his hairy 
legs under the blanket, looking with a scared 
face at his comrade for help. The door, having 
let Ptya in, closed again. A sound of laughter 
came from behind it. 

"Nicholas! Come outinyourdressinggownl" 
said Natasha's voice. 

"Is this your saber?" asked Pe*tya. "Or is it 
yours?" he said, addressing the black-mustached 
Denisov with servile deference. 

Rost6v hurriedly put something on his feet, 
drew on his dressing gown, and went out. Na- 
tasha had put on one spurred boot and was 
just getting her foot into .the other. S6nya, 
when he came in, was twirling round and was 
about to expand her dresses into a balloon and 
sit down. They were dressed alike, in new pale- 
blue frocks, and were both fresh, rosy, and 
bright. S6nya ran away, but Natdsha, taking 
her brother's arm, led him into the sitting 
room, where they began talking. They hardly 
gave one another time to ask questions and 
give replies concerning a thousand little mat- 
ters which could not interest anyone but them- 
selves. Natasha laughed at every word he said 
or that she said herself, not because what they 
were saying was amusing, but because she felt 
happy and was unable to control her joy which 
expressed itself by laughter. 

"Oh, how nice, how splendid!" she said to 
everything. 

Rost6v felt that, under the influence of the 
warm rays of love, that childlike smile which 
had not once appeared on his face since he left 
home now for the first time after eighteen 
months again brightened his soul and his face. 

"No, but listen," she said, "now you are 
quite a man, aren't you? I'm awfully glad you're 
my brother." She touched his mustache. "I 
want to know what you men are like. Are you 
the same as we? No?" 



"Why did S6nya run away?" asked Rost6v. 

"Ah, yes! That's a whole long story! How 
are you going to speak to her thou or you?" 

"As may happen," said Rost6v. 

"No, call her you, please! I'll tell you all 
about it some other time. No, I'll tell you now. 
You know S6nya's my dearest friend. Such a 
friend that I burned my arm for hersake.Look 
here!" 

She pulled up her muslin sleeve and showed 
him a red scar on her long; slender, delicate 
arm, high above the elbow on that part that is 
covered even by a ball dress. 

"I burned this to prove my love for her. I just 
heated a ruler in the fire and pressed it there!" 

Sitting on the sofa with the little cushions 
on its arms, in what used to be his old school- 
room, and looking into Natasha's wildly bright 
eyes, Rostov re-entered that world of home and 
childhood which had no meaning for anyone 
else, but gave him some of the best joys of his 
life; and the burning of an arm with a ruler as 
a proof of love did not seem to him senseless, 
he understood and was not surprised at it. 

"Well, and is that all?" he asked. 

"We are such friends, such friends! All that 
ruler business was just nonsense, but we are 
friends forever. She, if she loves anyone, does 
it for life, but I don't understand that, I forget 
quickly." 

"Well, what then?" 

"Well, she loves me and you like that." 

Natiisha suddenly flushed. 

"Why, you remember before you went away? 

. . . Well, she says you are to forget all that 

She says: 'I shall love him always, but let him 
be free.' Isn't that lovely and noble! Yes, very 
noble? Isn't it?" asked Natasha, so seriously 
and excitedly that it was evident that what she 
was now saying she had talked of before, with 
tears. 

Rost6v became thoughtful. 

"I never go back on my word," he said. "Be- 
sides, S6nya is so charming that only a fool 
would renounce such happiness." 

"No, no!" cried Natasha, "she and I have al- 
ready talked it over. We knew you'd s,ay so. 
But it won't do, because you see, if you say 
that if you consider yourself bound by your 
promise it will seem as if she had not meant 
it seriously. It makes it as if you were marrying 
her because you must, and that wouldn't do at 
all." 

Rost6v saw that it had been well considered 
by them. S6nya had already struck him by her 
beauty on the preceding day. Today, when he 



i68 



WAR AND PEACE 



had caught a glimpse of her, she seemed still 
more lovely. She was a charming girl of six- 
teen, evidently passionately in love with him 
(he did not doubt that for an instant). Why 
should he not love her now, and even marry 
her, Rost6v thought, but just now there were 
so many other pleasures and interests before 
him! "Yes, they have taken a wise decision," he 
thought, "I must remain free." 

"Well then, that's excellent," said he. "We'll 
talk it over later on. Oh, how glad I am to have 
you! 

"Well, and are you still true to Boris?" he 
continued. 

"Oh, what nonsense!" cried Natdsha, laugh- 
ing. "I don't think about him or anyone else, 
and I don't want anything of the kind." 

"Dear me I Then what are you up to now?" 

"Now?" repeated Natdsha, and a happy smile 
lit up her face. "Have you seen Duport?" 

"No." 

"Not seen Duport the famous dancer? Well 
then, you won't understand. That's what I'm 
up to." 

Curving her arms, Natdsha held out her 
skirts as dancers do, ran back a few steps, 
turned, cut a caper, brought her little feet 
sharply together, and made some steps on the 
very tips of her toes. 

"See, I'm standing! See!" she said, but could 
not maintain herself on her toes any longer. 
"So that's what I'm up tol I'll never marry any- 
one, but will be a dancer. Only don't tell any- 
one." 

Rost6v laughed so loud and merrily that 
Denisov, in his bedroom, felt envious and Na- 
tdsha could not help joining in. 

"No, but don't you think it's nice?" she kept 
repeating. 

"Nice! And so you no longer wish to marry 
Boris?" 

Natdsha flared up. "I don't want to marry 
anyone. And I'll tell him so when I see him!" 

"Dear me!" said Rost6v. 

"But that's all rubbish," Natdsha chattered 
on. "And is Denfsov nice?" she asked. 

"Yes, indeed!" 

"Oh, well then, good-by: go and dress. Is he 
very terrible, Denisov?" 

"Why terrible?" asked Nicholas. "No, Vdska 
is a splendid fellow." 

"You call him Vdska? That's funny! And is 
he very nice?" 

"Very." 

"Well then, be quick. We'll all have break- 
fast together." 



And Natdsha rose and went out of the room 
on tiptoe, like a ballet dancer, but smiling as 
only happy girls of fifteen can smile. When 
Rost6v met S6nya in the drawing room, he red- 
dened. He did not know how to behave with 
her. The evening before, in the first happy mo- 
ment of meeting, they had kissed each other, 
but today they felt it could not be done; he felt 
that everybody, including his mother and sis- 
ters, was looking inquiringly at him and watch- 
ing to see how he would behave with her. He 
kissed her hand and addressed her not as thou 
but as you Sdnya. But their eyes met and said 
thou, and exchanged tender kisses. Her looks 
asked him to forgive her for having dared, by 
Natdsha's intermediacy, to remind him of his 
promise, and then thanked him for his love. 
His looks thanked her for offering him his free- 
dom and told her that one way or another he 
would never cease to love her, for that would 
be impossible. 

"How strange it is," said Wra, selecting a 
moment when all were silent, "that S6nya and 
Nicholas now say you to one another and meet 
like strangers." 

V^ra's remark was correct, as her remarks al- 
ways were, but, like most of her observations, 
it made everyone feel uncomfortable, not only 
S6nya, Nicholas, .and Natdsha, but even the 
old countess, who dreading this love affair 
which might hinder Nicholas from making a 
brilliant match blushed like a girl. 

Denfsov, to Rost6v's surprise, appeared in 
the drawing room with pomaded hair, per- 
fumed, and in a new uniform, looking just as 
smart as he made himself when going into bat- 
tle, and he was more amiable to the ladies and 
gentlemen than Rost6v had ever expected to 
see him. 

CHAPTER II 

ON HIS RETURN to Moscow from the army, 
Nicholas Rost6v was welcomed by his home cir- 
cle as the best of sons, a hero, and their darling 
Nik61enka; by his relations as a charming, at- 
tractive, and polite youngman; by his acquaint- 
ances as a handsome lieutenant of hussars, a 
good dancer, and one of the best matches in 
the city. 

The Rost6vs knew everybody in Moscow. 
The old count had money enough that year, 
as all his estates had been remortgaged, and so 
Nicholas, acquiring a trotter of his own, very 
stylish riding breeches of the latest cut, such as 
no one else yet had in Moscow, and boots of 
the latest fashion, with extremely pointed toes 



BOOK FOUR 



169 



and small silver spurs, passed his time very 
gaily. After a short period of adapting himself 
to the old conditions of life, Nicholas found it 
very pleasant to be at home again. He felt that 
he had grown up and matured very much. His 
despair at failing in a Scripture examination, 
his borrowing money from Gavrfl to pay a 
sleigh driver, his kissing S6nya on the sly he 
now recalled all this as childishness he had left 
immeasurably behind. Now he was a lieuten- 
ant of hussars, in a jacket laced with silver, and 
wearing the Cross of St. George, awarded to 
soldiers for bravery in action, and in the com- 
pany of well-known, elderly, and respected rac- 
ing men was training a trotter of his own for a 
race. He knew a lady on one of the boulevards 
whom he visited of an evening. He led the 
mazurka at the Arkhdrovs' ball, talked about 
the war with Field Marshal Kdmenski, visited 
the English Club, and was on intimate terms 
with a colonel of forty to whom Denisov had 
introduced him. 

His passion for the Emperor had cooled 
somewhat in Moscow. But still, as he did not 
see him and had no opportunity of seeing him, 
he often spoke about him and about his love 
for him, letting it be understood that he had 
not told all and that there was something in 
his feel ings for the Emperor not everyone could 
understand, and with his whole soul he shared 
the adoration then common in Moscow for the 
Emperor, who was spoken of as the "angel in- 
carnate." 

During Rost6v's short stay in Moscow, before 
rejoining the army, he did not draw closer to 
S6nya, but rather drifted away from her. She 
was very pretty and sweet, and evidently deep- 
ly in love with him, but he was at the period of 
youth when there seems so much to do that 
there is no time for that sort of thing and a 
young man fears to bind himself and prizes 
his freedom which he needs for so many other 
things. When he thought of S6nya, during this 
stay in Moscow, he said to himself, "Ah, there 
will be, and there are, many more such girls 
somewhere whom I do not yet know. There 
will be time enough to think about love when 
I want to, but now I have no time." Besides, 
it seemed to him that the society of women was 
rather derogatory to his manhood. He went to 
balls and into ladies' society with an affectation 
of doing so against his will. The races, the 
English Club, sprees with Denisov, and 
visits to a certain housethat was another 
matter and quite the thing for a dashing 
young hussarl 



At the beginning of March, old Count 
Rost6v was very busy arranging a dinner in 
honorof Prince Bagrati6n at the English Club. 

The count walked up and down the hall in 
his dressing gown, giving orders to the club 
steward and to the famous Feoktfst, the Club's 
head cook, about asparagus, fresh cucumbers, 
strawberries, veal, and fish for this dinner. The 
count had been a member and on the commit- 
tee of the Club from the day it was founded. To 
him the Club entrusted theaVrangement of the 
festival in honor of Bagrati6n, for few men 
knew so well how to arrange a feast on an open- 
handed, hospitable scale, and still fewer men 
would be so well able and willing to make up 
out of their own resources what might be need- 
ed for the success of the fete. The club cook and 
the steward listened to the count's orders with 
pleased faces, for they knew that under no oth- 
er management could they so easily extract a 
good profit for themselves from a dinner cost- 
ing several thousand rubles. 

"Well then, mind and have cocks' combs in 
the turtle soup, you know!" 

"Shall we have three cold dishes then?" asked 
the cook. 

The count considered. 

"We can't have lessyes, three . . . the may- 
onnaise, that's one," said he, bending down a 
finger. 

"Then am I to order those large sterlets?" 
asked the steward. 

"Yes, it can't be helped if they won't take 
less. Ah, dear me! I was forgetting. We must 
have another entree. Ah, goodness gracious!" 
he clutched at his head. "Who is going to get 
me the flowers? Dmftri! Eh, Dmitri 1 Gallop off 
to our Moscow estate," he said to the factotum 
who appeared at his call. "Hurry off and tell 
Maksim, the gardener, to set the serfs to work. 
Say that everything out of the hothouses must 
be brought here well wrapped up in felt. I must 
have two hundred pots here on Friday." 

Having given several more orders, he was 
about to go to his "little countess" to have a 
rest, but remembering something else of im- 
portance, he returned again, called back the 
cook and the club steward, and again began 
giving orders. A light footstep and the clinking 
of spurs were heard at the door, and the young 
count, handsome, rosy, with a dark little mus- 
tache, evidently rested and made sleeker by his 
easy life in Moscow, entered the room. 

"Ah, my boy, my head's in a whirl!" said the 
old man with a smile, as if he felt a little con- 
fused before his son, "Now, if you would only 



170 



WAR AND PEACE 



help a bit! I must have singers too. I shall have 
my own orchestra, but shouldn't we get the 
gypsy singers as well? You military men like 
that sort of thing." 

"Really, Papa, I believe Prince Bagrati6n 
worried himself less before the battle of Schon 
Grabern than you do now," said his son with 
a smile. 

The old count pretended to be angry. 

"Yes, you talk, but try it yourself!" 

And the count turned to the cook, who, with 
a shrewd and respectful expression, looked ob- 
servantly and sympathetically at the father and 
son. 

"What have the young people come to now- 
adays, eh, Feoktist?" said he. "Laughing at us 
old fellows!" 

"That's so, your excellency, all they have to 
do is to eat a good dinner, but providing it and 
serving it all up, that's not their business!" 

"That's it, that's it!" exclaimed the count, 
and gaily seizing his son by both hands, he 
cried, "Now I've got you, so take the sleigh 
and pair at once, and go to Bezukhob's, and 
tell him 'Count Ilyd has sent you to ask for 
strawberries and fresh pineapples.' We can't 
get them from anyone else. He's not there him- 
self, so you'll have to go in and ask the prin- 
cesses; and from there go on to the Rasgulyay 
the coachman Ipdtka knows and look up 
the gypsy Ilyushka, the one who danced at 
Count Orl6v's, you remember, in a white Cos- 
sack coat, and bring him along to me." 

"And am I to bring the gypsy girls along 
with him?" asked Nicholas, laughing. "Dear, 
dear! . . ." 

At that moment, with noiseless footsteps and 
with the businesslike, preoccupied, yet meekly 
Christian look which never left her face, Anna 
MikMylovna entered the hall. Though she 
came upon thecount in his dressing gown every 
day, he invariably became confused and 
begged her to excuse his costume. 

"No matter at all, my dear count," she said, 
meekly closing her eyes. "But I'll go to Bezuk- 
hov's myself. Pierre has arrived, and now we 
shall get anything we want from his hothouses. 
I have to see him in any case. He has forward- 
ed me a letter from Boris. Thank God, Boris 
is now on the staff." 

The count was delighted at Anna Mikhay- 
lovna's taking upon herself one of his com- 
missions and ordered the small closed carriage 
for her. 

"Tell Bezukhov to come. I'll put his name 
down. Is bis wife with him?" he asked. 



Anna Mikhdylovna turned up her eyes, and 
profound sadness was depicted on her face. 

"Ah, my dear friend, he is very unfortunate," 
she said. "If what we hear is true, it is dreadful. 
How little we dreamed of such a thing when 
we were rejoicing at his happiness! And such 
a lofty angelic soul as young Bezukhovl Yes, I 
pity him from my heart, and shall try to give 
him what consolation I can." 

"Wh-what is the matter?" asked both the 
young and old Rostov. 

Anna Mikhdylovna sighed deeply. 

"D61okhov, Mary Ivdnovna's son," she said 
in a mysterious whisper, "has compromised her 
completely, they say. Pierre took him up, in- 
vited him to his house in Petersburg, and now 
... she has come here and that daredevil after 
her!" said Anna Mikhylovna, wishing to show 
her sympathy for Pierre, but by involuntary 
intonations and a half smile betraying her 
sympathy for the "daredevil," as she called 
Ddlokhov. "They say Pierre is quite broken by 
his misfortune." 

"Dear, dear! But still tell him to come to the 
Club it will all blow over. It will be a tre- 
mendous banquet." 

Next day, the third of March, soon after one 
o'clock, two hundred and fifty members of the 
English Cluband fifty guests were awaiting the 
guest of honor and hero of the Austrian cam- 
paign, Prince Bagrati6n, to dinner. 

On the first arrival of the news of the battle 
of Austerlitz, Moscow had been bewildered. At 
that time, the Russians were so used to victories 
that on receiving news of the defeat some 
would simply not believe it, while others sought 
some extraordinary explanation of so strange 
an event. In the English Club, where all who 
were distinguished, important, and well in- 
formed forgathered when the news began to 
arrive in December, nothing was said about the 
war and the last battle, as though all were in a 
conspiracy of silence. The men who set the tone 
in conversation Count Rostopchin, Prince 
Yuri Dolgortikov, Valiiev, Count Mdrkov, and 
Prince Vyazemski did not show themselves at 
the Club, but met in private houses in inti- 
mate circles, and the Moscovites who took 
their opinions from others Ilya Rost6v among 
them remained for a while without any defi- 
nite opinion on the subject of the war and 
without leaders. The Moscovites felt that some- 
thing was wrong and that to discuss the bad 
news was difficult, and so it was best to be si- 
lent. But after a while, just as a jury comes out 
of its room, the bigwigs who guided the Club's 



BOOK FOUR 



171 



opinion reappeared, and everybody began 
speaking clearly and definitely. Reasons were 
found for the incredible! unheard-of, and im- 
possible event of a Russian defeat, everything 
became clear, and in all corners of Moscow 
the same things began to be said. These reasons 
were the treachery of the Austrians, a defective 
commissariat, the treachery of the Pole Przeby- 
szwski and of the Frenchman Langeron, Ku- 
tuzov's incapacity, and (it was whispered) the 
youth and inexperience of the sovereign, who 
had trusted worthless and insignificant people. 
But the army, the Russian army, everyone de- 
clared, was extraordinary and had achieved 
miracles of valor. The soldiers, officers, and gen- 
erals were heroes. But the hero of heroes was 
Prince Bagrati6n, distinguished by his Schon 
Grabern affair and by the retreat from Auster- 
litz, where he alone had withdrawn his col- 
umn unbroken and had all day beaten back an 
enemy force twice as numerous as his own. 
What also conduced to Bagrati6n's being se- 
lected as Moscow's hero was the fact that he 
had no connections in the city and was a stran- 
ger there. In his person, honor was shown to a 
simple fighting Russian soldier without con- 
nections and intrigues, and to one who was as- 
sociated by memories of the Italian campaign 
with the name of Suv6rov. Moreover, paying 
such honor to Bagrati6n was the best way of 
expressing disapproval and dislike of Kutiizov. 

"Had there been no Bagrati6n, it would 
have been necessary to invent him," said the 
wit Shinshfn, parodying the words of Voltaire. 
Kutiizov no one spoke of, except some who 
abused him in whispers, calling him a court 
weathercock and an old satyr. 

All Moscow repeated Prince Dolgonikov's 
saying: "If you go on modeling and model- 
ing you must get smeared with clay," suggest- 
ing consolation for our defeat by the memory 
of former victories; and the words of Rostop- 
chfn, that French soldiers have to be incited to 
battle by highfalutin words, and Germans by 
logical arguments to show them that it is more 
dangerous to run away than to advance, but 
that Russian soldiers only need to be restrained 
and held back! On all sides, new and fresh an- 
ecdotes were heard of individual examples of 
heroism shown by our officers and men at Aus- 
terlitz. One had saved a standard, another had 
killed five Frenchmen, a third had loaded five 
cannon singlehanded. Berg was mentioned, by 
those who did not know him, as having, when 
wounded in the right hand, taken his sword in 
the left, and gone forward. Of Bolk6nski, noth- 



ing was said, and only those who knew him in- 
timately regretted that he had died so young, 
leaving a pregnant wife with his eccentric 
father. 

CHAPTER III 

ON THAT third of March, all the rooms in the 
English Club were filled with a hum of conver- 
sation, like the hum of beesswarming in spring- 
time. The members and guests of the Club 
wandered hither and thither, sat, stood, met, 
and separated, some in uniform and some in 
evening dress, and a few here and there with 
powdered hair and in Russian kaftdns. Pow- 
dered footmen, in livery with buckled shoes 
and smart stockings, stood at every door anx- 
iously noting visitors' every movement in order 
to offer their services. Most of those present 
were elderly, respected men with broad, self- 
confident faces, fat fingers, and resolute ges- 
tures and voices. This class of guests and mem- 
bers sat in certain habitual places and met in 
certain habitual groups. A minority of those 
present were casual guests chiefly young men, 
among whom were Denfsov, Rostov, and D6- 
lokhov who was now again an officer in the 
Semenov regiment. The faces of these young 
people, especially those who were militarymen, 
bore that expression of condescending respect 
for their elders which seems to say to the older 
generation, "We are prepared to respect and 
honor you, but all the same remember that the 
future belongs to us." 

Nesvf tski was there as an old member of the 
Club. Pierre, who at his wife's command had 
let his hair grow and abandoned his spectacles, 
went about the rooms fashionably dressed but 
looking sad and dull. Here, as elsewhere, he 
was surrounded by an atmosphere of subser- 
vience to his wealth, and being in the habit of 
lording it over these people, he treated them 
with absent-minded contempt. 

By his age he should have belonged to the 
younger men, but by his wealth and connec- 
tions he belonged to the groups of old and hon- 
ored guests, and so he went from one group to 
another. Some of the most important old men 
were the center of groups which even strangers 
approached respectfully to hear the voices of 
well-known men. The largest circles formed 
round Count Rostopchfn, Valtiev, and Nary- 
shkin. Rostopchfn was describing how the Rus- 
sians had been overwhelmed by flying Austri- 
ans and had had to force their way through 
them with bayonets. 

Valiiev was confidentially telling that Uvdrov 



WAR AND PEACE 



had been sent from Petersburg to ascertain 
what Moscow was thinking about Austerlitz. 

In the third circle, Naryshkin was speaking 
of the meeting of the Austrian Council of War 
at which Suv6rov crowed like a cock in reply to 
the nonsense talked by the Austrian generals. 
Shinshfn, standing close by, tried to make a 
joke, saying that Kutuzov had evidently failed 
to learn from Suv6roveven so simple a thing as 
the art of crowing like a cock, but the elder 
members glanced severely at the wit, making 
him feel that in that place and on that day, it 
was improper to speak so of Kutuzov. 

Count Ilyd Rost6v, hurried and preoccupied, 
went about in his soft boots between the din- 
ing and drawing rooms, hastily greeting the 
important and unimportant, all of whom he 
knew, as if they were all equals, while his eyes 
occasionally sought out his fine well-set-up 
young son, resting on him and winking joyful- 
ly at him. Young Rost6v stood at a window 
with Dolokhov, whose acquaintance he had 
lately made and highly valued. The old count 
came up to them and pressed D61okhov's hand. 

"Please come and visit us ... you know my 
brave boy . . . been together out there . . . both 
playing the hero . . . Ah, Vasfli Igndtovich . . . 
How d'ye do, old fellow?" he said, turning to 
an old man who was passing, but before he had 
finished his greeting there was a general stir, 
and a footman who had run in announced, 
with a frightened face: "He's arrived!" 

Bells rang, the stewards rushed forward, and 
like rye shaken together in a shovelthe 
guests who had been scattered about in differ- 
ent rooms came together and crowded in the 
large drawing room by the door of the ball- 
room. 

Bagrati6n appeared in the doorway of the 
anteroom without hat or sword, which, in ac- 
cord with the Club custom, he had given up to 
the hall porter. He had no lambskin cap on his 
head, nor had he a loaded whip over his shoul- 
der, as when Rost6v had seen him on the eve 
of the battle of Austerlitz, but wore a tight new 
uniform with Russian and foreign Orders, and 
the Star of St. George on his left breast. Evi- 
dently just before coming to the dinner he had 
had his hair and whiskers trimmed, which 
changed his appearance for the worse. There 
was something naively festive in his air, which, 
in con junction with his firm and virile features, 
gave him a rather comical expression. Bekle- 
she*v and Theodore Uvdrov, who had arrived 
with him, paused at the doorway to allow him, 
as the guest of honor, to enter first. Bagrati6n 



was embarrassed, not wishing to avail himself 
of their courtesy, and this caused some delay 
at the doors, but after all he did at last enter 
first. He walked shyly and awkwardly over the 
parquet floor of the reception room, not know- 
ing what to do with his hands; he was more ac- 
customed to walk over a plowed field under 
fire, as he had done at the head of the Kursk 
regiment at Schon Grabern and he would 
have found that easier. The committeemen met 
him at the first door and, expressing their de- 
light at seeing such a highly honored guest, 
took possession of him as it were, without wait- 
ing for his reply, surrounded him, and led 
him to the drawing room. It was at first impos- 
sible to enter the drawing-room door for the 
crowd of members and guests jostling one an- 
other and trying to get a good look at Bagrati6n 
over each other's shoulders, as if he were some 
rare animal. Count Ilyd Rost6v, laughing and 
repeating the words, "Make way, dear boy! 
Make way, make way!" pushed through the 
crowd more energetically than anyone, led the 
guests into the drawing room, and seated them 
on the center sofa. The bigwigs, the most re- 
spected members of the Club, beset the new ar- 
rivals. Count Ilya, again thrusting his way 
through the crowd, went out of the drawing 
room and reappeared a minute later with an- 
other committeeman, carrying a large silver sal- 
ver which hepresented to Prince Bagrati6n.On 
the salver lay some verses composed and print- 
ed in the hero's honor. Bagrati6n, on seeing the 
salver,glanced around in dismay, as though seek- 
ing help. But all eyes demanded that he should 
submit. Feeling himself in their power, he res- 
olutely took the salver with both hands and 
looked sternly and reproachfully at the count 
who had presented it to him. Someone oblig- 
ingly took the dish from Bagrati6n (or he 
would, it seemed, have held it till evening and 
have gone in to dinner with it) and drew his 
attention to the verses. 

"Well, I will read them, then!" Bagrati6n 
seemed to say, and, fixing his weary eyes on the 
paper, began to read them with a fixed and 
serious expression. But the author himself took 
the verses and began reading them aloud. Ba- 
grati6n bowed his head and listened: 

Bring glory then to Alexander's reign 

And on the throne our Titus shield. 

A dreaded foe be thou, kindhearted as a man, 

A Rhipheus at home, a Caesar in the field! 

E'en fortunate Napoleon 

Knows by experience f now, Bagratidn, 

And dare not Herculean Russians trouble. . . . 



BOOK FOUR 

But before he had finished reading, a stentori- 
an major-domo announced that dinner was 
ready! The door opened, and from the din- 
ing room came the resounding strains of the 
polonaise: 



173 



Conquest's joyful thunder waken, 
Triumph, valiant Russians, now! . . . 

and Count Rost6v, glancing angrily at the au- 
thor who went on reading his verses, bowed to 
Bagrati6n. Everyone rose, feeling that dinner 
was more important than verses, and Bagrati6n, 
again preceding all the rest, went in to dinner. 
He was seated in the place of honor between 
two Alexanders Bekleshev and Naryshkin 
which was a significant allusion to the name of 
the sovereign. Three hundred persons took 
their seats in the dining room, according to 
their rank and importance: the more impor- 
tant nearer to the honored guest, as naturally 
as water flows deepest where the land lies low- 
est. 

Just before dinner, Count Ilya Rost6v pre- 
sented his son to Bagrati6n, who recognized 
him and said a few words to him, disjointed 
and awkward, as were all the words he spoke 
that day, and Count Ilya looked joyfully and 
proudly around while Bagrati6n spoke to his 
son. 

Nicholas Rost6v, with Denisov and his new 
acquaintance, D61okhov, sat almost at the mid- 
dle of the table. Facing them sat Pierre, beside 
Prince Nesvitski. Count Ilya Rost6v with the 
other members of the committee sat facing Ba- 
grati6n and, as the very personification of 
Moscow hospitality, did the honors to the 
prince. 

His efforts had not been in vain. The dinner, 
both the Lenten and the other fare, was splen- 
did, yet he could not feel quite at ease till the 
end of the meal. He winked at the butler, whis- 
pered directions to the footmen, and awaited 
each expected dish with some anxiety. Every- 
thing was excellent. With the second course, a 
gigantic sterlet (at sight of which Ilya Rost6v 
blushed with self-conscious pleasure), the foot- 
men began popping corks and filling the cham- 
pagne glasses. After the fish, which made a cer- 
tain sensation, the count exchanged glances 
with the other committeemen. "There will be 
many toasts, it's time to begin," he whispered, 
and taking up his glass, he rose. All were silent, 
waiting for what he would say. 

"To the health of our Sovereign, the Em- 
peror!" he cried, and at the same moment his 
kindly eyes grew moist with tears of joy and 



enthusiasm. The band immediately struck up 
"Conquest's joyful thunder waken . . ." All 
rose and cried "Hurrah!" Bagrati6n also rose 
and shouted "Hurrah!" in exactly the same 
voice in which he had shouted it on the field 
at Schon Grabern. Young Rost6v's ecstatic 
voice could be heard above the three hundred 
others. He nearly wept. "To the health of our 
Sovereign , the Emperor ! " he roared, ' 'Hurrah ! ' ' 
and emptying his glass at one gulp he dashed 
it to the floor. Many followed his example, and 
the loud shouting continued for a long time. 
When the voices subsided, the footmen cleared 
away the broken glass and everybody sat down 
again, smiling at the noise they had made and 
exchanging remarks. The old count rose once 
more, glanced at a note lying beside his plate, 
and proposed a toast, "To the health of the 
hero of our last campaign, Prince Peter Ivano- 
vich Bagrati6nl" and again his blue eyes grew 
moist. "Hurrah!" cried the three hundred 
voices again, but instead of the band a choir 
began singing a cantata composed by Paul 
Ivanovich Kutuzov: 

Russians! O'er all barriers on! 

Courage conquest guarantees; 

Have we not Bagratidnf 

He brings foemen to their knees, . . . etc. 

As soon as the singing was over, another and 
another toast was proposed and Count Ilyd 
Rost6v became more and more moved, more 
glass was smashed, and the shouting grew loud- 
er. They drank to Bekleshev, Naryshkin, Uv- 
rov, Dolgoriikov, Aprdksin, Valiiev, to thecom- 
mittee, to all the Club members and to all the 
Club guests, and finally to Count Ilya Rost6v 
separately, as the organizer of the banquet. At 
that toast, the count took out his handkerchief 
and, covering his face, wept outright. 

CHAPTER IV 

PIERRE SAT OPPOSITE D61okhov and Nicholas 
Rost6v. As usual, he ate and drank much, and 
eagerly. But those who knew him intimately 
noticed that some great change had come over 
him that day. He was silent all through dinner 
and looked about, blinking and scowling, or, 
with fixed eyes and a look of complete absent- 
mindedness, kept rubbing the bridge of his 
nose. His face was depressed and gloomy. He 
seemed to see and hear nothing of what was 
going on around him and to be absorbed by 
some depressing and unsolved problem. 

The unsolved problem that tormented him 
was caused by hints given by the princess, his 
cousin, at Moscow, concerning D61okhov's 



WAR AND PEACE 



intimacy with his wife, and by an anonymous 
letter he had received that morning, which in 
the mean jocular way common to anonymous 
letters said that he saw badly through his spec- 
tacles, but that his wife's connection with D61- 
okhov was a secret to no one but himself. 
Pierre absolutely disbelieved both the princess* 
hints and the letter, but he feared now to look 
at D61okhov, who was sitting opposite him. 
Every time he chanced to meet Drilokhov's 
handsome insolent eyes, Pierre felt something 
terrible and monstrous rising in his soul and 
turned quickly away. Involuntarily recalling 
his wife's past and her relations with D61okhov, 
Pierre saw clearly that what was said in the let- 
ter might be true, or might at least seem to be 
true had it not referred to his wife. He invol- 
untarily remembered how D61okhov, who had 
fully recovered his former position after the 
campaign, had returned to Petersburg and 
come to him. Availing himself of his friendly 
relations with Pierre as a boon companion, 
D6Iokhov had come straight to his house, and 
Pierre had put him up and lent him money. Pi- 
erre recalled how Hlne had smilingly ex- 
pressed disapproval of D61okhov's living at 
their house, and how cynically Dolokhov had 
praised his wife's beauty to him and from that 
time till they came to Moscow had not left 
them for a day. 

"Yes, he is very handsome," thought Pierre, 
"and I know him. It would be particularly 
pleasant to him to dishonor my name and rid- 
icule me, just because I have exerted myself on 
his behalf, befriended him, and helped him. I 
know and understand what a spice that would 
add to the pleasure of deceiving me, if it real- 
ly were true. Yes, if it were true, but I do not 
believe it. I have no right to, and can't, believe 
it." He remembered the expression Dolokhov's 
face assumed in his moments of cruelty, as 
when tying the policeman to the bear and 
dropping them into the water, or when he chal- 
lenged a man to a duel without any reason, or 
shot a post-boy's horse with a pistol. That ex- 
pression was often on D61okhov's face when 
looking at him. "Yes, he is a bully," thought 
Pierre, "to kill a man means nothing to him. 
It must seem to him that everyone is afraid of 
him, and that must please him. He must think 
that I, too, am afraid of him and in fact I am 
afraid of him/' he thought, and again he felt 
something terrible and monstrous rising in his 
soul. D61okhov, Denisov, and Rost6vwere now 
sitting opposite Pierre and seemed very gay. 
Rost6v was talking merrily to his two friends, 



one of whom was a dashing hussar and the oth- 
er a notorious duelist and rake, and every now 
and then he glanced ironically at Pierre, whose 
preoccupied, absent-minded, and massive fig- 
ure was a very noticeable one at the dinner. 
Rost6v looked inimically at Pierre, first be- 
cause Pierre appeared to his hussar eyes as a 
rich civilian, the husband of a beauty, and in 
a word an old woman; and secondly because 
Pierre in his preoccupation and absent-mind- 
edness had not recognized Rostov and had not 
responded to his greeting. When the Emperor's 
health was drunk, Pierre, lost in thought, did 
not rise or lift his glass. 

"What are you about?" shouted Rost6v, look- 
ing at him in an ecstacyof exasperation. "Don't 
you hear it's His Majesty the Emperor's health?" 

Pierre sighed, rose submissively, emptied his 
glass, and, waiting till all were seated again, 
turned with his kindly smile to Rostov. 

"Why, I didn't recognize you!" he said. But 
Rost6v was otherwise engaged; he was shout- 
ing "Hurrah!" 

"Why don't you renew the acquaintance?" 
said D61okhov to Rost6v. 

"Confound him, he's a fool!" said Rost6v. 

"One should make up to the husbands of 
pretty women," said Denisov. 

Pierre did not catch what they were saying, 
but knew they were talking about him. He red- 
dened and turned away. 

"Well, now to the health of handsome wom- 
en!" said D61okhov, and with a serious expres- 
sion, but with a smile lurking at the corners of 
his mouth, he turned with his glass to Pierre. 

"Here's to the health of lovely women, Pe- 
tcrkin and their lovers!" he added. 

Pierre, with downcast eyes, drank out of his 
glass without looking at D61okhov or answer- 
ing him. The footman, who was distributing 
leaflets with Kutuzov's cantata, laid one before 
Pierre as one of the principal guests. He was 
just going to take it when D61okhov, leaning 
across, snatched it from his hand and began 
reading it. Pierre looked at D61okhov and his 
eyes dropped, the something terrible and mon- 
strous that had tormented him all dinnertime 
rose and took possession of him. He leaned his 
whole massive body across the table. 

"How dare you take it?" he shouted. 

Hearing that cry and seeing to whom it was 
addressed, Nesvitski and the neighbor on his 
right quickly turned in alarm to Bezukhov. 

"Don't! Don't! What are you about?" whis- 
pered their frightened voices. 

D61okhov looked at Pierre with clear, mirth- 



BOOK FOUR 



ful, cruel eyes, and that smile of his which 
seemed to say, "Ah! This is what I like!" 

"You shan't have it!" he said distinctly. 

Pale, with quivering lips, Pierre snatched the 
copy. 

"You . . . ! you . . . scoundrel! I challenge 
you!" he ejaculated, and, pushing back his 
chair, he rose from the table. 

At the very instant he did this and uttered 
those words, Pierre felt that the question of his 
wife's guilt which had been tormenting him the 
whole day was finally and indubitably answered 
in the affirmative. He hated her and was for- 
ever sundered from her. Despite Denisov's re- 
quest that he would take no part in the matter, 
Rost6v agreed to be Dolokhov's second, and 
after dinner he discussed the arrangements for 
the duel with Nesvitski, Beziikhov's second. 
Pierre went home, but Rost6v with Dolokhov 
and Denfsov stayed on at the Club till late, 
listening to the gypsies and other singers. 

"Well then, till tomorrow at Sok61niki,"said 
D61okhov, as he took leave of Rostov in the 
Club porch. 

"And do you feel quite calm?" Rost6v asked. 

D61okhov paused. 

"Well, you see, I'll tell you the whole secret 
of dueling in two words. If you are going to 
fight a duel, and you make a will and write af- 
fectionate letters to your parents, and if you 
think you may be killed, you are a fool and are 
lost for certain. But go with the firm intention 
of killing your man as quickly and surely as 
possible, and then all will be right, as our bear 
huntsman at Kostromd used to tell me. 'Every- 
one fears a bear/ he says, 'but when you see one 
your fear's all gone, and your only thought is 
not to let^him get away!' And that's how it is 
with me. A demain, mon cher" * 

Next day, at eight in the morning, Pierre 
and Nesvftski drove to the Sok61niki forest and 
found D61okhov, Denfsov, and Rost6v already 
there. Pierre had the air of a man preoccupied 
with considerations which had no connection 
with the matter in hand. His haggard face was 
yellow. He had evidently not slept that night. 
He looked about distractedly and screwed up 
his eyes as if dazzled by the sun. He was entirely 
absorbed by two considerations: his wife's 
guilt, of which after his sleepless night he had 
not the slightest doubt, and the guiltlessness of 
D61okhov, who had no reason to preserve the 

honor of a man who was nothing to him "I 

should perhaps have done the same thing in his 
place," thought Pierre. "It's even certain that 

1 Till tomorrow, my dear fellow. 



I should have done the same, then why this 
duel, this murder? Either I shall kill him, or he 
will hit me in the head, or elbow, or knee. Can't 
I go away from here, run away, bury myself 
somewhere?" passed through his mind. But just 
at moments when such thoughts occurred to 
him, he would ask in a particularly calm and 
absent-minded way, which inspired the respect 
of the onlookers, "Will it be long? Are things 
ready?" 

When all was ready, the sabers stuck in the 
snow to mark the barriers, and the pistols load- 
ed, Nesvitski went up to Pierre. 

"I should not be doing my duty, Count," he 
said in timid tones, "and should not justify 
your confidence and the honor you have done 
me in choosing me for your second, if at this 
grave, this very grave, moment I did not tell 
you the whole truth. I think there is no suffi- 
cient ground for this affair, or for blood to be 
shed over it. ... You were not right, not quite 
in the right, you were impetuous . . ." 

"Oh yes, it is horribly stupid," said Pierre. 

"Then allow me to express your regrets, and 
I am sure your opponent will accept them," 
said Nesvftski (who like the others concerned 
in the affair, and like everyone in similar cases, 
did not yet believe that the affair had come to 
an actual duel). "You know, Count, it is much 
more honorable to admit one's mistake than to 
let matters become irreparable. There was no 
insult on either side. Allow me to convey . . ." 

"No! What is there to talk about?" said Pi- 
erre. "It'sall the same Is every thing ready?" 

he added. "Only tell me where to go and where 
to shoot," he said with an unnaturally gentle 
smile. 

He took the pistol in his hand and began ask- 
ing about the working of the trigger, as he had 
not before held a pistol in his hand a fact 
that he did not wish to confess. 

"Oh yes, like that, I know, I only forgot," 
said he. 

"No apologies, none whatever," said D61o- 
khov to Denfsov (who on his side had been at- 
tempting a reconciliation), and he also went 
up to the appointed place. 

The spot chosen for the duel was some eighty 
paces from the road, where the sleighs had 
been left, in a small clearing in the pine forest 
covered with melting snow, the frost having 
begun to break up during the last few days. 
The antagonists stood forty paces apart at the 
farther edge of the clearing. The seconds, meas- 
uring the paces, left tracks in the deep wet 
snow between the place where they had been 



176 



WAR AND PEACE 



standingand Nesvftski'sand D61okhov's sabers, 
which were stuck into the ground ten paces 
apart to mark the barrier. It was thawing and 
misty; at forty paces' distance nothing could 
be seen. For three minutes all had been ready, 
but they still delayed and all were silent. 

CHAPTER V 
"WELL, BEGIN!" said D61okhov. 

"All right," said Pierre, still smiling in the 
same way. A feeling of dread was in the air. It 
was evident that the affair so lightly begun 
could no longer be averted but was taking its 
course independently of men's will. 

Denisov first went to the barrier and an- 
nounced: "As the adve'sawies have wefused a 
weconciliation, please pwoceed.Take your pis- 
tols, and at the word thwee begin to advance. 

"O-ne! T-wol Thwee!" he shouted angrily 
and stepped aside. 

The combatants advanced along the trodden 
tracks, nearer and nearer to one another, be- 
ginning to see one another through the mist. 
They had the right to fire when they liked as 
they approached the barrier. D61okhov walked 
slowly without raising his pistol, looking in- 
tently with his bright, sparkling blue eyes into 
his antagonist's face. His mouth wore its usual 
semblance of a smile. 

"So I can fire when I like!" said Pierre, and 
at the word "three," he went quickly forward, 
missing the trodden path and stepping into the 
deep snow. He held the pistol in his right hand 
at arm's length, apparently afraid of shooting 
himself with it. His left hand he held careful- 
ly back, because he wished to support his right 
hand with it and knew he must not do so. Hav- 
ing advanced six paces and strayed off the track 
into the snow, Pierre looked down at his feet, 
then quickly glanced at D61okhov and, bend- 
ing his finger as he had been shown, fired. Not 
at all expecting so loud a report, Pierre shud- 
dered at the sound and then, smiling at his own 
sensations, stood still. The smoke, rendered 
denser by the mist, prevented him from seeing 
anything for an instant, but there was no second 
report as he had expected. He only heard D6- 
lokhov's hurried steps, and his figure came in 
view through the smoke. He was pressing one 
hand to his left side, while the other clutched 
his drooping pistol. His face was pale. Rost6v 
ran toward him and said something. 

"No-o-o!" muttered D61okhov through his 
teeth, "no, it's not over." And after stumbling 
a few staggering steps right up to the saber, he 
sank on the snow beside it. His left hand was 



bloody; he wiped it on his coat and supported 
himself with it. His frowning face was pallid 
and quivered. 

"Plea ..." began D61okhov, but could not at 
first pronounce the word. 

"Please," he uttered with an effort. 

Pierre, hardly restraining his sobs, began 
running toward D61okhov and was about to 
cross the space between the barriers, when D6- 
lokhov cried: 

"To your barrier! "and Pierre, grasping what 
was meant, stopped by his saber. Only ten paces 
divided them. D61okhov lowered his head to 
the snow, greedily bit at it, again raised his 
head, adjusted himself, drew in his legs and sat 
up, seeking a firm center of gravity. He sucked 
and swallowed the cold snow, his lips quivered, 
but his eyes, still smiling, glittered with effort 
and exasperation as he mustered his remaining 
strength. He raised his pistol and aimed. 

"Sideways! Cover yourself with your pistol!" 
ejaculated Nesvitski. 

"Cover yourself!" even Denisov cried to his 
adversary. 

Pierre, with a gentle smile of pity and re- 
morse, his arms and legs helplessly spread out, 
stood with his broad chest directly facing D6- 
lokhovand looked sorrowfully at him. Dcnfsov, 
Rostov, and Nesvitski closed their eyes. At the 
same instant they heard a report and Dolo- 
khov's angry cry. 

"Missed!" shouted Dolokhov, and he lay 
helplessly, face downwards on the snow. 

Pierre clutched his temples, and turning 
round went into the forest, trampling through 
the deep snow, and muttering incoherent 
words: 

"Folly . . . folly! Death . . . lies . . ." he re- 
peated, puckering his face. 

Nesvf tski stopped him and took him home. 

Rost6v and Denisov drove away with the 
wounded D61okhov. 

The latter lay silent in the sleigh with closed 
eyes and did not answer a word to the ques- 
tions addressed to him. But on entering Mos- 
cow he suddenly came to and, lifting his head 
with an effort, took Rost6v, who was sitting be- 
side him, by the hand. Rost6v was struck by the 
totally altered and unexpectedly rapturous 
and tender expression on Ddlokhov's face. 

"Well? How do you feel?" he asked. 

"Bad! But it's not that, my friend "said D61- 
okhov with a gasping voice. "Where are we? In 
Moscow, I know. I don't matter, but I have 
killed her, killed . . . She won't get over it! She 
won't survive. . . ." 



BOOK FOUR 



177 



"Who?" asked Rost6v. 

"My mother! My mother, my angel, my 
adored angel mother," and D61okhov pressed 
Rostov's hand and burst into tears. 

When he had become a little quieter, he ex- 
plained to Rost6v that he was living with his 
mother, who, if she saw him dying, would not 
survive it. He implored Rost6v to go on and 
prepare her. 

Rost6v went on ahead to do what was asked, 
and to his great surprise learned that D61okhov 
the brawler, D61okhov the bully, lived in Mos- 
cow with an old mother and a hunchback sis- 
ter, and was the most affectionate of sons and 
brothers. 

CHAPTER VI 

PIERRE HAD of late rarely seen his wife alone. 
Both in Petersburg and in Moscow their house 
was always full of visitors. The night after the 
duel he did not go to his bedroom but, as he 
often did, remained in his father's room, that 
huge room in which Count Bezukhovhad died. 

He lay down on the sofa meaning to fall 
asleep and forget all that had happened to him, 
but could not do so. Such a storm of feelings, 
thoughts, and memories suddenly arose within 
him that he could not fall asleep, nor even re- 
main in one place, but had to jump up and 
pace the room with rapid steps. Now he seemed 
to see her in the early days of their marriage, 
with bare shoulders and a languid, passionate 
look on her face, and then immediately he saw 
beside her D61okhov's handsome, insolent, 
hard, and mocking face as he had seen it at the 
banquet, and then that same face pale, quiver- 
ing, and suffering, as it had been when he reeled 
and sank on the snow. 

"What has happened?" he asked himself. "I 
have killed her lover, yes, killed my wife's lover. 
Yes, that was it! And why? How did I come to 
do it?" "Because you married her," answered 
an inner voice. 

"But in what was I to blame?" he asked. "In 
marrying her without loving her; in deceiving 
yourself and her." And he vividly recalled that 
moment after supper at Prince Vasili's, when 
he spoke those words he had found so difficult 
to utter: "I love you." "It all comes from that! 
Even then I felt it," he thought. "I felt then 
that it was not so, that I had no right to do it. 
And so it turns out." 

He remembered his honeymoon and blushed 
at the recollection. Particularly vivid, humili- 
ating, and shameful was the recollection of 
how one day soon after his marriage he came 



out of the bedroom into his study a little be- 
fore noon in his silk dressing gown and found 
his head steward there, who, bowing respect- 
fully, looked into his face and at his dressing 
gown and smiled slightly, as if expressing re- 
spectful understanding of his employer's hap- 
piness. 

"But how often I have felt proud of her, 
proud of her majestic beauty and social tact," 
thought he; "been proud of my house, in 
which she received all Petersburg, proud of 
her unapproachability and beauty. So this is 
what I was proud of! I then thought that I did 
not understand her. How often when consider- 
ing her character I have told myself that I was 
to blame for not understanding her, for not 
understanding that constant composure and 
complacency and lack of all interests or desires, 
and the whole secret lies in the terrible truth 
that she is a depraved woman. Now I have 
spoken that terrible word to myself all has be- 
come clear. 

"Anatole used to come to borrow money 
from her and used to kiss her naked shoulders. 
She did not give him the money, but let her- 
self be kissed. Her father in jest tried to rouse 
her jealousy, and she replied with a calm smile 
that she was not so stupid as to be jealous: 'Let 
him do what he pleases,' she used to say of me. 
One day I asked her if she felt any symptoms 
of pregnancy. She laughed contemptuously and 
said she was not a fool to want to have chil- 
dren, and that she was not going to have any 
children by me." 

Then he recalled the coarseness and blunt- 
ness of her thoughts and the vulgarity of the 
expressions that were natural to her, though 
she had been brought up in the most aristo- 
cratic circles. 

"I'm not such a fool. . . . Just you try it on. 
. . . Allez-vous promener/' 1 she used to say. 
Often seeing the success she had with young 
and old men and women Pierre could not un- 
derstand why he did not love her. 

"Yes, I never loved her," said he to himself; 
"I knew she was a depraved woman," he re- 
peated, "but dared not admit it to myself. And 
now there's D61okhov sitting in the snow with 
a forced smile and perhaps dying, while meet- 
ing my remorse with some forced bravado!" 

Pierre was one of those people who, in spite 
of an appearance of what is called weak char- 
acter, do not seek a confidant in their troubles. 
He digested his sufferings alone. 

"It is all, all her fault," he said to himself; 

1 "You clear out of this." 



i 7 8 



WAR AND PEACE 



"but what of that? Why did I bind myself to 
her? Why did I say 'Je vous aime' l to her, 
which was a lie, and worse than a lie? I am 
guilty and must endure . . . what? A slur on 
my name? A misfortune for life? Oh, that's 
nonsense," he thought. "The slur on my name 
and honor that's all apart from myself. 

"Louis XVI was executed because they said 
he was dishonorable and a criminal," came in- 
to Pierre's head, "and from their point of view 
they were right, as were those too who canon- 
ized him and died a martyr's death for his sake. 
Then Robespierre was beheaded for being a 
despot. Who is right and who is wrong? No 
one! But if you are alive live: tomorrow you'll 
die as I might have died an hour ago. And is it 
worth tormenting oneself, when one has only 
a moment of life in comparison with eternity?" 

But at the moment when he imagined him- 
self calmed by such reflections, she suddenly 
came into his mind as she was at the moments 
when he had most strongly expressed his in- 
sincere love for her, and he felt the blood rush 
to his heart and had again to get up and move 
about and break and tear whatever came to his 
hand. "Why did I tell her that 'Je vous aime'?" 
he kept repeating to himself. And when he 
had said it for the tenth time, Molire's words: 
"Mais que diable alloit-il faire dans cette ga- 
leref" * occurred to him, and he began to laugh 
at himself. 

In the night he called his valet and told him 
to pack up to go to Petersburg. He could not 
imagine how he could speak to her now. He 
resolved to go away next day and leave a letter 
informing her of his intention to part from 
her forever. 

Next morning when the valet came into the 
room with his coffee, Pierre was lying asleep 
on the ottoman with an open book in his hand. 

He woke up and looked round for a while 
with a startled expression, unable to realize 
where he was. 

"The countess told me to inquire whether 
your excellency was at home," said the valet. 

But before Pierre could decide what answer 
he would send, the countess herself in a white 
satin dressing gown embroidered with silver 
and with simply dressed hair (two immense 
plaits twice round her lovely head like a coro- 
net) entered the room, calm and majestic, ex- 
cept that there was a wrathful wrinkle on her 

1 1 love you. 

8 "What the dickens did he get himself into that 
mess for?" or, more literally, "What the devil was 
he going to do in that galley?" TR. 



rather prominent marble brow. With her im- 
perturbable calm she did not begin to speak in 
front of the valet. She knew of the duel and 
had come to speak about it. She waited till the 
valet had set down the coffee things and left 
the room. Pierre looked at her timidly over his 
spectacles, and like a hare surrounded by 
hounds who lays back her ears and continues 
to crouch motionless before her enemies, he 
tried to continue reading. But feeling this to 
be senseless and impossible, he again glanced 
timidly at her. She did not sit down but looked 
at him with a contemptuous smile, waiting for 
the valet to go. 

"Well, what's this now? What have you been 
up to now, I should like to know?" she asked 
sternly. 

"I? What have I . . . ?" stammered Pierre. 

"So it seems you're a hero, eh? Come now, 
what was this duel about? What is it meant to 
prove? What? I ask you." 

Pierre turned over heavily on the ottoman 
and opened his mouth, but could not reply. 

"If you won't answer, I'll tell you... "Hellene 
went on. "You believe everything you're told. 
You were told . . ." Hdene laughed, "that D6- 
lokhov was my lover," she said in French with 
her coarse plainness of speech, uttering the 
word amant as casually as any otherword, "and 
you believed it! Well, what have you proved? 
What does this duel prove? That you're a fool, 
que vous lies un sot, but everybody knew that. 
What will be the result? That I shall be the 
laughingstock of all Moscow, that everyone 
will say that you, drunk and not knowing what 
you were about, challenged a man you are 
jealous of without cause." Helene raised her 
voice and became more and more excited, "A 
man who's a better man than you in every 
way . . ." 

"Hm . . . Hm . . . !" growled Pierre, frown- 
ing without looking at her, and not moving a 
muscle. 

"And how could you believe he was my 
lover? Why? Because I like his company? If 
you were cleverer and more agreeable, I should 
prefer yours." 

"Don't speak to me ... I beg you," muttered 
Pierre hoarsely. 

"Why shouldn't I speak? I can speak as I 
like, and I tell you plainly that there are not 
many wives with husbands such as you who 
would not have taken lovers (des amants), but 
I have not done so," said she. 

Pierre wished to say something, looked at 
her with eyes whose strange expression she did 



BOOK FOUR 



179 



not understand, and lay down again. He was 
suffering physically at that moment, there was 
a weight on his chest and he could not breathe. 
He knew that he must do something to put an 
end to this suffering, but what he wanted to do 
was too terrible. 

"We had better separate," he muttered in a 
broken voice. 

"Separate? Very well, but only if you give 
me a fortune," said H61ne. "Separate! That's 
a thing to frighten me with!" 

Pierre leaped up from the sofa and rushed 
staggering toward her. 

"I'll kill you!" he shouted, and seizing the 
marble top of a table with a strength he had 
never before felt, he made a step toward her 
brandishing the slab. 

Hlne's face became terrible, she shrieked 
and sprang aside. His father's nature showed 
itself in Pierre. He felt the fascination and de- 
light of frenzy. He flung down the slab, broke 
it, and swooping down on her with outstretched 
hands shouted, "Get out!" in such a terrible 
voice that the whole house heard it with hor- 
ror. God knows what he would have done at 
that moment had H^lene not fled from the 
room. 

A week later Pierre gave his wife full power 
to control all his estates in Great Russia, which 
formed the larger part of his property, and left 
for Petersburg alone. 

CHAPTER VII 

Two MONTHS had elapsed since the news of 
the battle of Austerlitz and the loss of Prince 
Andrew had reached Bald Hills, and in spite 
of the letters sent through the embassy and all 
the searches made, his body had not been 
found nor was he on the list of prisoners. What 
was worst of all for his relations was the fact 
that there was still a possibility of his having 
been picked up on the battlefield by the peo- 
ple of the place and that he might now be ly- 
ing, recovering or dying, alone among stran- 
gers and unable to send news of himself. The 
gazettes from which the old prince first heard 
of the defeat at Austerlitz stated, as usual very 
briefly and vaguely, that after brilliant engage- 
ments the Russians had had to retreat and had 
made their withdrawal in perfect order. The 
old prince understood from this official report 
that our army had been defeated. A week after 
the gazette report of the battle of Austerlitz 
came a letter from Kutiizov informing the 
prince of the fate that had befallen his son. 



"Your son," wrote Kutiizov, "fell before my 
eyes, a standard in his hand and at the head of 
a regiment he fell as a hero, worthy of his fa- 
ther and his fatherland. To the great regret of 
myself and of the whole army it is still uncer- 
tain whether he is alive or not. I comfort my- 
self and you with the hope that your son is 
alive, for otherwise he would have been men- 
tioned among the officers found on the field of 
battle, a list of whom has been sent me under 
flag of truce." 

After receiving this news late in the evening, 
when he was alone in his study, the old prince 
went for his walk as usual next morning, but 
he was silent with his steward, the gardener, 
and the architect, and though he looked very 
grim he said nothing to anyone. 

When Princess Mary went to him at the us- 
ual hour he was working at his lathe and, as 
usual, did not look round at her. 

"Ah, Princess Mary!" he said suddenly in an 
unnatural voice, throwing down his chisel. 
(The wheel continued to revolve by its own 
impetus, and Princess Mary long remembered 
the dying creak of that wheel, which merged 
in her memory with what followed.) 

She approached him, saw his face, and some- 
thing gave way within her. Her eyes grew dim. 
By the expression of her father's face, not sad, 
not crushed, but angry and working unnatural- 
ly, she saw that hanging over her and about to 
crush her was some terrible misfortune, the 
worst in life, one she had not yet experienced, 
irreparable and incomprehensible the death 
of one she loved. 

"Father! Andrew!" said the ungraceful, 
awkward princess with such an indescribable 
charm of sorrow and self-forgetfulness that 
her father could not bear her look but turned 
away with a sob. 

"Bad news! He's not among the prisoners 
nor among the killed! Kutuzov writes . . ." and 
he screamed as piercingly as if he wished to 
drive the princess away by that scream . . . 
"Killed!" 

The princess did not fall down or faint. She 
was already pale, but on hearing these words 
her face changed and something brightened in 
her beautiful, radiant eyes. It was as if joy a 
supreme joy apart from the joys and sorrows of 
this world overflowed the great grief within 
her. She forgot all fear of her father, went up 
to him, took his hand, and drawing him down 
put her arm round his thin, scraggy neck. 

"Father," she said, "do not turn away from 
me, let us weep together." 



i8o 



WAR AND PEACE 



"Scoundrels! Blackguards 1" shrieked the old 
man, turning his face away from her. "Destroy- 
ing the army, destroying the men! And why? 
Go, go and tell Lise." 

The princess sank helplessly into an arm- 
chair beside her father and wept. She saw her 
brother now as he had been at the moment 
when he took leave of her and of Lise, his look 
tender yet proud. She saw him tender and 
amused as he was when he put on the little 
icon. "Did he believe? Had he repented of his 
unbelief? Was he now there? There in the 
realms of eternal peace and blessedness?" she 
thought. 

"Father, tell me how it happened," she asked 
through her tears. 

"Go! Go! Killed in battle, where the best of 
Russian men and Russia's glory were led to de- 
struction. Go, Princess Mary. Go and tell Lise. 
I will follow." 

When Princess Mary returned from her fa- 
ther, the little princess sat working and looked 
up with that curious expression of inner, hap- 
py calm peculiar to pregnant women. It was 
evident that her eyes did not see Princess Mary 
but were looking within . . . into herself ... at 
something joyful and mysterious taking place 
within her. 

"Mary," she said, moving away from the 
embroidery frame and lying back, "give me 
your hand." She took her sister-in-law's hand 
and held it below her waist. 

Her eyes were smilingexpectantly, her downy 
lip rose and remained lifted in childlike hap- 
piness. 

Princess Mary knelt down before her and 
hid her face in the folds of her sister-in-law's 
dress. 

"There, there! Do you feel it? I feel so 
strange. And do you know, Mary, I am going 
to love him very much," said Lise, looking 
with bright and happy eyes at her sister-in-law. 

Princess Mary could not lift her head, she 
was weeping. 

"What is the matter, Mary?" 

"Nothing . . . only I feel sad . . . sad about 
Andrew," she said, wiping away her tears on 
her sister-in-law's knee. 

Several times in the course of the morning 
Princess Mary began trying to prepare her sis- 
ter-in-law, and every time began to cry. Unob- 
servant as was the little princess, these tears, 
the cause of which she did not understand, 
agitated her. She said nothing but looked 
about uneasily as if in search of something. Be- 
fore dinner the old prince, of whom she was 



always afraid, came into her room with a pe- 
culiarly restless and malign expression and 
went out again without saying a word. She 
looked at Princess Mary, then sat thinking for 
a while with that expression of attention to 
something within her that is only seen in preg- 
nant women, and suddenly began to cry. 

"Has anything come from Andrew?" she 
asked. 

"No, you know it's too soon for news. But 
my father is anxious and I feel afraid." 

"So there's nothing?" 

"Nothing," answered Princess Mary, look- 
ing firmly with her radiant eyes at her sister-in- 
law. 

She had determined not to tell her and per- 
suaded her father to hide the terrible news 
from her till after her confinement, which was 
expected within a few days. Princess Mary and 
the old prince each bore and hid their grief in 
their own way. The old prince would not cher- 
ish any hope: he made up his mind that Prince 
Andrew had been killed, and though he sent 
an official to Austria to seek for traces of his 
son, he ordered a monument from Moscow 
which he intended to erect in his own garden 
to his memory, and he told everybody that his 
son had been killed. He tried not to change his 
former way of life, but his strength failed him. 
He walked less, ate less, slept less, and became 
weaker every day. Princess Mary hoped. She 
prayed for her brother as living and was al- 
ways awaiting news of his return. 

CHAPTER VIII 

DEAREST," said the little princess after break- 
fast on themorningof thenineteenthof March, 
and her downy little lip rose from old habit, 
but as sorrow was manifest in every smile, the 
sound of every word, and even every footstep 
in that house since the terrible news had come, 
so now the smile of the little princess influ- 
enced by the general mood though without 
knowing its cause was such as to remind one 
still more of the general sorrow. 

"Dearest, I'm afraid this morning's fruschti- 
que * as F6ka the cook calls it has disagreed 
with me." 

"What is the matter with you, my darling? 
You look pale. Oh, you are very pale!" said 
Princess Mary in alarm, running with her soft, 
ponderous steps up to her sister-in-law. 

"Your excellency, should not Mary Bogda- 
novna be sent for?" said one of the maids who 
was present. (Mary Bogddnovna was a mid- 

1 Fruhstiick: breakfast. 



BOOK FOUR 



181 



wife from the neighboring town, who had been 
at Bald Hills for the last fortnight.) 

"Oh yes," assented Princess Mary, "perhaps 
that's it. I'll go. Courage, my angel." She kissed 
Lise and was about to leave the room. 

"Oh, no, no!" And besides the pallor and 
the physical suffering on the little princess' 
face, an expression of childish fear of inevit- 
able pain showed itself. 

"No, it's only indigestion! . . . Say it's only 
indigestion, say so, Mary! Say . . ." And the lit- 
tle princess began to cry capriciously like a 
suffering child and to wring her little hands 
even with some affectation. Princess Mary ran 
out of the room to fetch Mary Bogda* novna. 

"Mon T>ieu! Mon Dieu! Oh!" she heard as 
she left the room. 

The midwife was already on her way to meet 
her, rubbing her small, plump white hands 
with an air of calm importance. 

"Mary Bogddnovna, I think it's beginning!" 
said Princess Mary looking at the midwifewith 
wide-open eyes of alarm. 

"Well, the Lord be thanked, Princess," said 
Mary Bogdnovna, not hastening her steps. 
"You young ladies should not know anything 
about it." 

"But how is it the doctor from Moscow is 
not here yet?" said the princess. (In accord- 
ance with Lise's and Prince Andrew's wishes 
they had sent in good time to Moscow for a 
doctor and were expecting him at any mo- 
ment.) 

"No matter, Princess, don't be alarmed,"said 
Mary Bogdnovna. "We'll manage very well 
without a doctor." 

Five minutes later Princess Mary from her 
room heard something heavy being carried by. 
She looked out. The menservants were carry- 
ing the large leather sofa from Prince An- 
drew's study into the bedroom. On their faces 
was a quiet and solemn look. 

Princess Mary sat alone in her room listen- 
ing to the sounds in the house, now and then 
opening her door when someone passed and 
watching what was going on in the passage. 
Some women passing with quiet steps in and 
out of the bedroom glanced at the princess and 
turned away. She did not venture to ask any 
questions, and shut the door again, now sitting 
down in her easy chair, now taking her prayer 
book, now kneeling before the icon stand. To 
her surprise and distress she found that her 
prayers did not calm her excitement. Suddenly 
her door opened softly and her old nurse, Pra- 
sk6vya Sdvishna, who hardly ever came to that 



room as the old prince had forbidden it, ap- 
peared on the threshold with a shawl round 
her head. 

"I've come to sit with you a bit, Mdsha," said 
the nurse, "and here I've brought the prince's 
wedding candles to light before his saint, my 
angel," she said with a sigh. 

"Oh, nurse, I'm so glad!" 

"God is merciful, birdie." 

The nurse lit the gilt candles before the 
icons and sat down by the door with her knit- 
ting. Princess Mary took a book and began 
reading. Only when footsteps or voices were 
heard did they look at one another, the prin- 
cess anxious and inquiring, the nurse encour- 
aging. Everyone in the house was dominated 
by the same feeling that Princess Mary experi- 
enced as she sat in her room. But owing to the 
superstition that the fewer the people who 
know of it the less a woman in travail suffers, 
everyone tried to pretend not to know; no 
one spoke of it, but apart from the ordinary 
staid and respectful good manners habitual in 
the prince's household, a common anxiety, a 
softening of the heart, and a consciousness 
that something great and mysterious was be- 
ing accomplished at that moment made itself 
felt. 

There was no laughter in the maids' large 
hall. In the menservants' hall all sat waiting, 
silently and alert. In the outlying serfs' quar- 
ters torches and candles were burning and no 
one slept. The old prince, stepping on his 
heels, paced up and down his study and sent 
Tikhon to ask Mary Bogddnovna what news. 
"Say only that 'the prince told me to ask,' and 
come and tell me her answer." 

"Inform the prince that labor has begun," 
said Mary Bogddnovna, giving the messenger a 
significant look. 

Tfkhon went and told the prince. 

"Very good!" said the prince closing the 
door behind him, and Tikhon did not hear 
the slightest sound from the study after that. 

After a while he re-entered it as if to snuff 
the candles, and, seeing the prince was lying 
on the sofa, looked at him, noticed his per- 
turbed face, shook his head, and going up to 
him silently kissed him on the shoulder and 
left the room without snuffing the candles or 
saying why he had entered. The most solemn 
mystery in the world continued its course. 
Evening passed, night came, and the feeling of 
suspense and softening of heart in the presence 
of the unfathomable did not lessen but in- 
creased. No one slept. 



i8* 



WAR AND PEACE 



It was one of those March nights when win- 
ter seems to wish to resume its sway and scat- 
ters its last snows and storms with desperate 
fury. A relay of horses had been sent up the 
highroad to meet the German doctor from 
Moscow who was expected every moment, and 
men on horseback with lanterns were sent to 
the crossroads to guide him over the country 
road with its hollows and snow-covered pools 
of water. 

Princess Mary had long since put aside her 
book: she sat silent, her luminous eyes fixed on 
her nurse's wrinkled face (every line of which 
she knew so well), on the lock of gray hair that 
escaped from under the kerchief, and the loose 
skin that hung under her chin. 

Nurse Sdvishna, knitting in hand, was tell- 
ing in low tones, scarcely hearing or under- 
standing her own words, what she had told 
hundreds of times before: how the late prin- 
cess had given birth to Princess Mary in Kish- 
enev with only a Moldavian peasant woman to 
help instead of a midwife. 

"God is merciful, doctors are never needed," 
she said. 

Suddenly a gust of wind beat violently a- 
gainst the casement of the window, from which 
the double frame had been removed (by order 
of the prince, one window frame was removed 
in each room as soon as the larks returned), 
and, forcing open a loosely closed latch, set the 
damask curtain flapping and blew out the can- 
dle with its chill, snowy draft. Princess Mary 
shuddered; her nurse, putting down the stock- 
ing she was knitting, went to the window and 
leaning out tried to catch the open casement. 
The cold wind flapped the ends of her ker- 
chief and her loose locks of gray hair. 

"Princess, my dear, there's someone driving 
up the avenue!" she said, holding the casement 
and not closing it. "With lanterns. Most likely 
the doctor." 

"Oh, my God! thank God!" said Princess 
Mary. "I must go and meet him, he does not 
know Russian." 

Princess Mary threw a shawl over her head 
and ran to meet the newcomer. As she was 
crossing the anteroom she saw through the 
window a carriage with lanterns, standing at 
the entrance. She went out on the stairs. On a 
bani&ter post stood a tallow candle which gut- 
tered in the draft. On the landing below, 
Philip, the footman, stood looking scared and 
holding another candle. Still lower, beyond 
the turn of the staircase, one could hear the 
footstep of someone in thick felt boots, and a 



voice that seemed familiar to Princess Mary 
was saying something. 

"Thank God!" said the voice. "And Father?" 

"Gone to bed," replied the voice of Demydn 
the house steward, who was downstairs. 

Then the voice said something more, Dem- 
ydn replied, and the steps in the felt boots ap- 
proached the unseen bend of the staircase more 
rapidly. 

"It's Andrew!" thought Princess Mary. "No 
it can't be, that would be too extraordinary," 
and at the very moment she thought this, the 
face and figure of Prince Andrew, in a fur 
cloak the deep collar of which was covered with 
snow, appeared on the landing where the foot- 
man stood with the candle. Yes, it was he, pale, 
thin, with a changed and strangely softened 
but agitated expression on his face. He came 
up the stairs and embraced his sister. 

"You did not get my letter?" he asked, and 
not waiting for a reply which he would not 
have received, for the princess was unable to 
speak he turned back, rapidly mounted the 
stairs again with the doctor who had entered 
the hall after him (they had met at the last 
post station), and again embraced his sister. 

"What a strange fate, Msha darling!" And 
having taken off his cloak and felt boots, he 
went to the little princess' apartment. 

CHAPTER IX 

THE LITTLE PRINCESS lay supported by pillows, 
with a white cap on her head (the pains had 
just left her). Strands of her black hair lay 
round her inflamed and perspiring cheeks, her 
charming rosy mouth with its downy lip was 
open and she was smiling joyfully. Prince An- 
drew entered and paused facing her at the foot 
of the sofa on which she was lying. Her glitter- 
ing eyes, filled with childlike fear and excite- 
ment, rested on him without changing their 
expression. "I love you all and have done no 
harm to anyone; why must I suffer so? Help 
me!" her look seemed to say. She saw her hus- 
band, but did not realize the significance of his 
appearance before her now. Prince Andrew 
went round the sofa and kissed her forehead. 

"My darling!" he said a word he had never 
used to her before. "God is merciful. . . ." 

She looked at him inquiringly and with child- 
like reproach. 

"I expected help from you and I get none, 
none from you either 1" said her eyes. She was 
not surprised at his having come; she did not 
realize that he had come. His coming had noth- 
ing to do with her sufferings or with their re- 



BOOK FOUR 



lief. The pangs began again and Mary Bogdd- 
novna advised Prince Andrew to leave the 
room. 

The doctor entered. Prince Andrew went 
out and, meeting Princess Mary, again joined 
her. They began talking in whispers, but their 
talk broke off at every moment. They waited 
and listened. 

"Go, dear," said Princess Mary. 

Prince Andrew went again to his wife and 
sat waiting in the room next to hers. A woman 
came from the bedroom with a frightened face 
and became confused when she saw Prince An- 
drew. He covered his face with his hands and 
remained so for some minutes. Piteous, help- 
less, animal moans came through the door. 
Prince Andrew got up, went to the door, and 
tried to open it. Someone was holding it shut. 

"You can't come in! You can't!" said a terri- 
fied voice from within. 

He began pacing the room. The screaming 
ceased, and a few more seconds went by. Then 
suddenly a terrible shriek it could not be hers, 
she could not scream like that came from the 
bedroom. Prince Andrew ran to the door; the 
scream ceased and he heard the wail of an in- 
fant. 

"What have they taken a baby in there for?" 
thought Prince Andrew in the first second. "A 
baby? What baby . . . ? Why is there a baby 
there? Or is the baby born?" 

Then suddenly he realized the joyful signif- 
icance of that wail; tears choked him, and 
leaning his elbows on the window sill be began 
to cry, sobbing like a child. The door opened. 
The doctor with his shirt sleeves tucked up, 
without a coat, pale and with a trembling jaw, 
came out of the room. Prince Andrew turned 
to him, but the doctor gave him a bewildered 
look and passed by without a word. A woman 
rushed out and seeing Prince Andrew stopped, 
hesitating on the threshold. He went into his 
wife's room. She was lying dead, in the same 
position he had seen her in five minutes be- 
fore and, despite the fixed eyes and the pallor 
of the cheeks, the same expression was on her 
charming childlike face with its upper lip cov- 
ered with tiny black hair. 

"I love you all, and have done no harm to 
anyone; and what have you done to me?" 
said her charming, pathetic, dead face. 

In a corner of the room something red and 
tiny gave a grunt and squealed in Mary Bog- 
ddnovna's trembling white hands. 

Two hours later Prince Andrew, stepping 



softly, went into his father's room. The old 
man already knew everything. He was stand- 
ing close to the door and as soon as it opened 
his rough old arms closed like a vise round his 
son's neck, and without a word he began to sob 
like a child. 

Three days later the little princess was buried, 
and Prince Andrew went up the steps to where 
the coffin stood, to give her the farewell kiss. 
And there in the coffin was the same face, 
though with closed eyes. "Ah, what have you 
done to me?" it still seemed to say, and Prince 
Andrew felt that something gave way in his 
soul and that he was guilty of a sin he could 
neither remedy nor forget. He could not weep. 
The old man too came up and kissed the wax- 
en little hands that lay quietly crossed one on 
the other on her breast, and to him, too, her 
face seemed to say: "Ah, what have you done 
to me, and why?" And at the sight the old man 
turned angrily away. 

Another five days passed, and thentheyoung 
Prince Nicholas Andntevich was baptized. The 
wet nurse supported the coverlet with her chin, 
while the priest with a goose feather anointed 
the boy's little red and wrinkled soles and 
palms. 

His grandfather, who was his godfather, trem- 
bling and afraid of dropping him, carried the 
infant round the battered tin font and handed 
him over to the godmother, Princess Mary. 
Prince Andrew sat in another room, faint with 
fear lest the baby should be drowned in the 
font, and awaited the termination of the cere- 
mony. He looked up joyfully at the baby when 
the nurse brought it to him and nodded ap- 
proval when she told him that the wax with 
the baby's hair had not sunk in the font but 
had floated. 

CHAPTER X 

ROSTOV'S SHARE in D61okhov's duel with Be- 
ziikhov was hushed up by the efforts of the old 
count, and instead of being degraded to the 
ranks as he expected he was appointed an ad- 
jutant to the governor general of Moscow. As 
a result he could not go to the country with 
the rest of the family, but was kept all summer 
in Moscow by his new duties. D61okhov recov- 
ered, and Rost6v became very friendly with 
him during his convalescence. D61okhov lay ill 
at his mother's who loved him passionately and 
tenderly, and old Mary Ivnovna, who had 
grown fond of Rost6v for his friendship to her 



184 



WAR AND PEACE 



Fdya, often talked to him about her son. 

"Yes, Count," she would say, "he is too no- 
ble and pure-souled for our present, depraved 
world. No one now loves virtue; it seems like 
a reproach to everyone. Now tell me, Count, 
was it right, was it honorable, of Beziikhov? 
And Fdya, with his noble spirit, loved him 
and even now never says a word against him. 
Those pranks in Petersburg when they played 
some tricks on a policeman, didn't they do it 
together? And therel Beziikhov got off scot- 
free, while F6dya had to bear the whole bur- 
Jen on his shoulders. Fancy what he had to go 
through! It's true he has been reinstated, but 
how could they fail to do that? I think there 
were not many such gallant sons of the father- 
land out there as he. And now this duel! 
Have these people no feeling, or honor? Know- 
ing him to be an only son, to challenge him 
and shoot so straight! It's well God had mercy 
on us. And what was it for? Who doesn't have 
intrigues nowadays? Why, if he was so jealous, 
as I see things he should have shown it sooner, 
but he lets it go on for months. And then to 
call him out, reckoning on Fdya not fighting 
because he owed him money! What baseness! 
What meanness! I know you understand Fe"d- 
ya, my dear count; that, believe me, is why I 
am so fond of you. Few people do understand 
him. He is such a lofty, heavenly soul!" 

D61okhov himself during his convalescence 
spoke to Rost6v in a way no one would have 
expected of him. 

"I know people consider me a bad man!" he 
said. "Let them! I don't care a straw about any- 
one but those I love; but those I love, I love so 
that I would give my life for them, and the oth- 
ers I'd throttle if they stood in my way. I have 
an adored, a priceless mother, and two or three 
friends you among them and as for the rest 
I only care about them in so far as they are 
harmful or useful. And most of them are harm- 
ful, especially the women. Yes, dear boy," he 
continued, "I have met loving, noble, high- 
minded men, but I have not yet met any wom- 
encountesses or cooks who were not venal. I 
have not yet met that divine purity and devo- 
tion I look for in women. If I found such a one 
I'd give my life for her! But those! . . ." and he 
made a gesture of contempt. "And believe me, 
if I still value my life it is only because I still 
hope to meet such a divine creature, who will 
regenerate, purify, and elevate me. But you 
don't understand it." 

"Oh, yes, I quite understand," answered Ros- 
tov, who was under his new friend's influence. 



In the autumn the Rost6vs returned to Mos- 
cow. Early in the winter Denfsov also came 
back and stayed with them. The first half of 
the winter of 1806, which Nicholas Rost6v 
spent in Moscow, was one of the happiest, mer- 
riest times for him and the whole family. Nich- 
olas brought many young men to his parents' 
house. Ve'ra was a handsome girl of twenty; 
Sdnya a girl of sixteen with all the charm of an 
opening flower; Natdsha, half grown up and 
half child, was now childishly amusing, now 
girlishly enchanting. 

At that time in the Rost6vs' house there pre- 
vailed an amorous atmosphere characteristic 
of homes where there are very young and very 
charming girls. Every young man who came to 
the house seeing those impressionable, smil- 
ing young faces (smiling probably at their own 
happiness), feeling the eager bustle around 
him, and hearing the fitful bursts of song and 
music and the inconsequent but friendly prat- 
tle* of young girls ready for anything and full 
of hope experienced the same feeling; shar- 
ing with the young folk of the Rost6vs' house- 
hold a readiness to fall in love and an expecta- 
tion of happiness. 

Among the young men introduced byRost6v 
one of the first was D61okhov, whom everyone 
in the house liked except Natdsha. She almost 
quarreled with her brother about him. She in- 
sisted that he was a bad man, and that in the 
duel with Beziikhov, Pierre was right and D6- 
lokhov wrong, and further that he was disa- 
greeable and unnatural. 

"There's nothing for me to understand," she 
cried out with resolute self-will, "he is wicked 
and heartless. There now, I like your Denisov 
though he is a rake and all that, still I like him; 
so you see I do understand. I don't know how 
to put it ... with this one everything is calcu- 
lated, and I don't like that. But Denfsov . . ." 

"Oh, Denfsov is quite different," replied 
Nicholas, implying that even Denfsov was noth- 
ing compared to D61okhov "you must under- 
stand what a soul there is in D61okhov, you 
should see him with his mother. Whata heart!" 

"Well, I don't know about that, but I am 
uncomfortable with him. And do you know he 
has fallen in love with S6nya?" 

"What nonsense. . . ." 

"I'm certain of it; you'll see." 

Natasha's prediction proved true. D61okhov, 
who did not usually care for the society of la- 
dies, began to come often to the house, and the 
question for whose sake he came (though no 
one spoke of it) was soon settled. He came be- 



cause of S6nya. And S6nya, though she would 
never have dared to say so, knew it and blushed 
scarlet every time D61okhov appeared. 

D61okhov often dined at the Rost6vs', never 
missed a performance at which they were pres- 
ent, and went to logel's balls for young people 
which the Rostovs always attended. He was 
pointedly attentive to S6nya and looked at her 
in such a way that not only could she not bear 
his glances without coloring, but even the old 
countess and Natasha blushed when they saw 
his looks. 

It was evident that this strange, strong man 
was under the irresistible influence of the dark, 
graceful girl who loved another. 

Rost6v noticed something new in D61okhov's 
relations with S6nya, but he did not explain to 
himself what these new relations were. "They're 
always in love with someone," he thought 
of S6nya and Natdsha. But he was not as much 
at ease with S6nya and D61okhov as before and 
was less frequently at home. 

In the autumn of 1806 everybody had again 
begun talking of the war with Napoleon with 
even greater warmth than the year before. Or- 
ders were given to raise recruits, ten men in 
every thousand for the regular army, and be- 
sides this, nine men in every thousand for the 
militia. Everywhere Bonaparte was anathema- 
tized and in Moscow nothing but the coming 
war was talked of. For the Rostov family the 
whole interest of these preparations for war 
lay in the fact that Nicholas would not hear of 
remaining in Moscow, and only awaited the 
termination of Denfsov's furlough afterChrist- 
mas to return with him to their regiment. His 
approaching departure did not prevent his 
amusing himself, but rather gave zest to his 
pleasures. He spent the greater part of his time 
away from home, at dinners, parties, and balls. 

CHAPTER XI 

ON THE THIRD DAY after Christmas Nicholas 
dined at home, a thing he had rarely done of 
late. It was a grand farewell dinner, as he and 
Denfsov were leaving to join their regiment 
after Epiphany. About twenty people were 
present, including D61okhov and Denfsov. 

Never had love been so much in the air, and 
never had the amorous atmosphere made itself 
so strongly felt in the Rost6vs' house as at this 
holiday time. "Seize the moments of happi- 
ness, love and be lovedl That is the only reality 
in the world, all else is folly. It is the one thing 
we are interested in here," said the spirit of 
the place. 



BOOK FOUR 185 

Nicholas, having as usual exhausted two 



pairs of horses, without visiting all the places 
he meant to go to and where he had been in- 
vited, returned home just before dinner. As 
soon as he entered he noticed and felt the ten- 
sion of the amorous air in the house, and also 
noticed a curious embarrassment among some 
of those present. S6nya, D61okhov, and the old 
countess were especially disturbed, and to a 
lesser degree Natdsha. Nicholas understood that 
something must have happened between S6n- 
ya and Dolokhov before dinner, and with the 
kindly sensitiveness natural to him was very 
gentle and wary with them both at dinner. On 
that same evening there was to be one of the 
balls that logel (the dancing master) gave for 
his pupils durings the holidays. 

"Nicholas, will you come to logel's? Please 
dol" said Natdsha. "He asked you, and Vasfli 
Dmftrich * is also going." 

"Where would I not go at the countess' com- 
mand!" said Denfsov, who at the Rostovs' had 
jocularly assumed the role of Natdsha's knight. 
"I'm even weady to dance the pas de chdle." 

"If I have time," answered Nicholas. "But I 
promised the Arkhdrovs; they have a party." 

"And you?" he asked D61okhov, but as soon 
as he had asked the question he noticed that it 
should not have been put. 

"Perhaps," coldly and angrily replied D6- 
lokhov, glancing at S6nya, and, scowling, he 
gave Nicholas just such a look as he had given 
Pierre at the Club dinner. 

"There is something up," thought Nicholas, 
and he was further confirmed in this conclu- 
sion by the fact that D61okhov left immediate- 
ly after dinner. He called Natdsha and asked 
her what was the matter. 

"And I was looking for you," said Natdsha 
running out to him. "I told you, but you would 
not believe it," she said triumphantly. "He has 
proposed to S6nya!" 

Little as Nicholas had occupied himself with 
S6nya of late, something seemed to give way 
within him at this news. D61okhov was a suit- 
able and in some respects a brilliant match for 
the dowerless, orphan girl. From the point of 
view of the old countess and of society it was 
out of the question for her to refuse him. And 
therefore Nicholas' first feeling on hearing the 
news was one of anger with Sonya. . . . He tried 
to say, "That's capital; of course she'll forget 
her childish promises and accept the offer," 
but before he had time to say it Natdsha began 
again. 

1 Denfsov. 



i86 



WAR AND PEACE 



"And fancy! she refused him quite definite- 
ly!" adding, after a pause, "she told him she 
loved another." 

"Yes, my S6nya could not have done other- 
wise!" thought Nicholas. 

"Much as Mamma pressed her, she refused, 
and I know she won't change once she has 
said . . ." 

"And Mamma pressed her!" said Nicholas 
reproachfully. 

"Yes," said Natdsha. "Do you know, Nich- 
olasdon't be angrybut I know you will not 
marry her. I know, heaven knows how, but I 
know for certain that you won't marry her." 

"Now you don't know that at all! "said Nich- 
olas. "But I must talk to her. What a darling 
S6nya is!" he added with a smile. 

"Ah, she is indeed a darling! I'll send her to 
you." 

And Natasha kissed her brother and ran 
away. 

A minute later S6nya came in with a fright- 
ened, guilty, and scared look. Nicholas went 
up to her and kissed her hand. This was the 
first time since his return that they had talked 
alone and about their love. 

"Sophie," he began, timidly at first and then 
more and more boldly, "if you wish to refuse 
one who is not only a brilliant and advanta- 
geous match but a splendid, noble fellow . . . 
he is my friend ..." 

S6nya interrupted him. 

"I have already refused," she said hurriedly. 

"If you are refusing for my sake, I am afraid 
that I ..." 

S6nya again interrupted. She gave him an 
imploring, frightened look. 

"Nicholas, don't tell me that!" she said. 

"No, but I must. It may be arrogant of me, 
but still it is best to say it. If you refuse him on 
my account, I must tell you the whole truth. 
I love you, and I think I love you more than 
anyone else. . . ." 

"That is enough for me," said S6nya, blush- 
ing. 

"No, but I have been in love a thousand 
times and shall fall in love again, though for 
no one have I such a feeling of friendship, 
confidence, and love as I have for you. Then I 
am young. Mamma does not wish it. In a word, 
I make no promise. And I beg you to consider 
Dolokhov's offer," he said, articulating his 
friend's name with difficulty. 

"Don't say that to me! I want nothing. I love 
you as a brother and always shall, and I want 
nothing more." 



"You are an angel: I am not worthy of you, 
but I am afraid of misleading you." 
And Nicholas again kissed her hand. 

CHAPTER XII 

IOGEL'S WERE the most enjoyable balls in Mos- 
cow. So said the mothers as they watched their 
young people executing their newly learned 
steps, and so said the youths and maidens them- 
selves as they danced till they were ready to 
drop, and so said the grown-up young men and 
women who came to these balls with an air of 
condescension and found them most enjoyable. 
That year two marriages had come of these 
balls. The two pretty young Princesses Gor- 
chak6v met suitors there and were married and 
so further increased the fame of these dances. 
What distinguished them from others was the 
absence of host or hostess and the presence of 
the good-natured logel, flying about like a 
feather and bowing according to the rules of 
his art, as he collected the tickets from all his 
visitors. There was the fact that only those 
came who wished to dance and amuse them- 
selves as girls of thirteen and fourteen do who 
are wearing long dresses for the first time. With 
scarcely any exceptions they all were, or seemed 
to be, pretty so rapturous were their smiles 
and so sparkling their eyes. Sometimes the best 
of the pupils, of whom Natasha, who was ex- 
ceptionally graceful, was first, even danced the 
pas de chdle, but at this last ball only the Jcos> 
saise, the anglaise, and the mazurka, which was 
just coming into fashion, were danced, logel 
had taken a ballroom in Bezukhov's house, and 
the ball, as everyone said, was a great success. 
There were many pretty girls and the Rost6v 
girls were among the prettiest. They were both 
particularly happy and gay. That evening, 
proud of D61okhov's proposal, her refusal, and 
her explanation with Nicholas, S6nya twirled 
about before she left home so that the maid 
could hardly get her hair plaited, and she was 
transparently radiant with impulsive joy. 

Natdsha no less proud of her first long dress 
and of being at a real ball was even happier. 
They were both dressed in white muslin with 
pink ribbons. 

Natdsha fell in love the very moment she en- 
tered the ballroom. She was not in love with 
anyone in particular, but with everyone. What- 
ever person she happened to look at she was in 
love with for that moment. 

"Oh, how delightful it is!" she kept saying, 
running up to S6nya. 

Nicholas and Denisov were walking up and 



BOOK FOUR 



187 



down, looking with kindly patronage at the 
dancers. 

"How sweet she is she will be a weal beau- 
ty 1" saidDenisov. 

"Who?" 

"Countess Natasha," answered Denisov. 

"And how she dances! What gwace!" he said 
again after a pause. 

"Who are you talking about?" 

"About your sister," ejaculated Denisov tes- 
tily. 

Rost6v smiled. 

"My dear count, you were one of my best pu- 
pils you must dance," said little logel coming 
up to Nicholas. "Look how many charming 
young ladies" He turned with the same re- 
quest to Denisov who was also a former pupil 
of his. 

"No, my dear fellow, I'll be a wallflower," 
said Denisov. "Don't you wecollect what bad 
use I made of your lessons?" 

"Oh no!" said logel, hastening to reassure 
him. "You were only inattentive, but you had 
talentoh yes, you had talent!" 

The band struck up the newly introduced 
mazurka. Nicholas could not refuse logel and 
asked S6nya to dance. Denfsov sat down by the 
old ladies and, leaning on his saber and beat- 
ing time with his foot, told them something 
funny and kept them amused, while he watched 
the young people dancing, logel with Natdsha, 
his pride and his best pupil, were the first cou- 
ple. Noiselessly, skillfully stepping with his lit- 
tle feet in low shoes, logel flew first across the 
hall with Natasha, who, though shy, went on 
carefully executing her steps. Denfsov did not 
take his eyes off her and beat time with his 
saber in a way that clearly indicated that if he 
was not dancing it was because he would not 
and not because he could not. In the middle 
of a figure he beckoned to Rost6v who was 
passing: 

"This is not at all the thing," he said. "What 
sort of Polish mazuwka is this? But she does 
dance splendidly." 

Knowing that Denisov had a reputation 
even in Poland for the masterly way in which 
he danced the mazurka, Nicholas ran up to 
Natasha: 

"Go and choose Denfsov. He is a real dancer, 
a wonder!" he said. 

When it came to Natdsha's turn to choose a 
partner, she rose and, tripping rapidly across 
in her little shoes trimmed with bows, ran tim- 
idly to the corner where Denfsov sat. She saw 
that everybody was looking at her and waiting. 



Nicholas saw that Denfsov was refusing though 
he smiled delightedly. He ran up to them. 

"Please, Vasfli Dmftrich," Natdsha was say- 
ing, "do come!" 

"Oh no, let me off, Countess," Denfsov re- 
plied. 

"Now then, Vdska," said Nicholas. 

"They coax me as if I were Vdska the cat!" 
said Denfsov jokingly. 

"I'll sing for you a whole evening," said Na- 
tdsha. 

"Oh, the faiwy! She can do anything with 
me!" said Denfsov, and he unhooked his saber. 
He came out from behind the chairs, clasped 
his partner's hand firmly, threw back his head, 
and advanced his foot, waiting for the beat. 
Only on horse back and in the mazurka was 
Denfsov's short stature not noticeable and he 
looked the fine fellow he felt himself to be. At 
the right beat of the music he looked sideways 
at his partner with a merry and triumphant 
air, suddenly stamped with one foot, bounded 
from the floor like a ball, and flew round the 
room taking his partner with him. He glided 
silently on one foot half across the room, and 
seeming not to notice the chairs was dashing 
straight at them, when suddenly, clinking his 
spurs and spreading out his legs, he stopped 
short on his heels, stood so a second, stamped 
on the spot clanking his spurs, whirled rapidly 
round, and, striking his left heel against his 
right, flew round again in a circle. Natdsha 
guessed what he meant to do, and abandoning 
herself to him followed his lead hardly know- 
ing how. First he spun her round, holding her 
now with his left, now with his right hand, then 
falling on one knee he twirled her round him, 
and again jumping up, dashed so impetuously 
forward that it seemed as if he would rush 
through the whole suite of rooms without draw- 
ing breath, and then he suddenly stopped and 
performed some new and unexpected steps. 
When at last, smartly whirling his partner 
round in front of her chair, he drew up with a 
click of his spurs and bowed to her, Natasha 
did not even make him a curtsy. She fixed her 
eyes on him in amazement, smiling as if she 
did not recognize him. 

"What does this mean?" she brought out. 

Although logel did not acknowledge this to 
be the real mazurka, everyone was delighted 
with Denfsov's skill, he was asked again and 
again as a partner, and the old men began smil- 
ingly to talk about Poland and the good old 
days. Denfsov, flushed after the mazurka and 
mopping himself with his handkerchief, sat 



i88 



WAR AND PEACE 



down by Natdsha and did not leave her for the 
rest of the evening. 

CHAPTER XIII 

FOR TWO DAYS after that Rost6v did not see 
D61okhov at his own or at D61okhov's home: 
on the third day he received a note from him: 

As I do not intend to be at your house again for 
reasons you know of, and am going to rejoin my 
regiment, I am giving a farewell supper tonight to 
my friendscome to the English Hotel. 

About ten o'clock Rost6v went to the English 
Hotel straight from the theater, where he had 
been with his family and Denisov. He was at 
once shown to the best room, which D61okhov 
had taken for that evening. Some twenty men 
were gathered round a table at which D61ok- 
hov sat between two candles. On the table was 
a pile of gold and paper money, and he was 
keeping the bank. Rost6v had not seen him 
since his proposal and S6nya's refusal and felt 
uncomfortable at the thought of how they 
would meet. 

D61okhov's clear, cold glance met Rost6v as 
soon as he entered the door, as though he had 
long expected him. 

"It's a long time since we met," he said. 
"Thanks for coming. I'll just finish dealing, 
and then Ilyiishka will come with his chorus." 

"I called once or twice at your house," said 
Rost6v, reddening. 

D61okhov made no reply. 

"You may punt," he said. 

Rost6v recalled at that moment a strange 
conversation he had once had with D61okhov. 
"None but fools trust to luck in play," D61ok- 
hov had then said. 

"Or are you afraid to play with me?" D61ok- 
hov now asked as if guessing Rost6v's thought. 

Beneath his smile Rostov saw in him the 
mood he had shown at the Club dinner and at 
other times, when as if tired of everyday life he 
had felt a need to escape from it by some 
strange, and usually cruel, action. 

Rost6v felt ill at ease. He tried, but failed, 
to find some joke with which to reply to D61ok- 
hov's words. But before he had thought of any- 
thing, D61okhov, looking straight in his face, 
said slowly and deliberately so that everyone 
could hear: 

"Do you remember we had a talk about cards 
. . . 'He's a fool who trusts to luck, one should 
make certain/ and I want to try." 

"To try his luck or the certainty?" Rostov 
asked himself. 



"Well, you'd better not play," D61okhov 
added, and springing a new pack of cards said: 
"Bank, gentlemen!" 

Moving the money forward he prepared to 
deal. Rost6v sat down by hi side and at first 
did not play. D61okhov kept glancing at him. 

"Why don't you play?" he asked. 

And strange to say Nicholas felt that he 
could not help taking up a card, putting a 
small stake on it, and beginning to play. 

"I have no money with me," he said. 

"I'll trust you." 

Rost6v staked five rubles on a card and lost, 
staked again, and again lost. D61okhov "killed," 
that is, beat, ten cards of Rost6v's running. 

"Gentlemen," said Dolokhov after he had 
dealt for some time. "Please place your money 
on the cards or I may get muddled in the reck- 
oning." 

One of the players said he hoped he might 
be trusted. 

"Yes, you might, but I am afraid of getting 
the accounts mixed. So I ask you to put the 
money on your cards," replied D61okhov. 
"Don't stint yourself, we'll settle afterwards," 
he added, turning to Rost6v. 

The game continued; a waiter kept handing 
round champagne. 

All Rost6v's cards were beaten and he had 
eight hundred rubles scored up against him. 
He wrote "800 rubles" on a card, but while 
the waiter filled his glass he changed his mind 
and altered it to his usual stake of twenty 
rubles. 

"Leave it," said Dolokhov, though he did 
not seem to be even looking at Rostov, "you'll 
win it back all the sooner. I lose to the others 
but win from you. Or are you afraid of me?" 
he asked again. 

Rost6v submitted. He let the eight hundred 
remain and laid down a seven of hearts with a 
torn corner, which he had picked up from the 
floor. He well remembered that seven after- 
wards. He laid down the seven of hearts, on 
which with a broken bit of chalk he had writ- 
ten "800 rubles" in clear upright figures; he 
emptied the glass of warm champagne that was 
handed him, smiled at D61okhov's words, and 
with a sinking heart, waiting for a seven to 
turn up, gazed at D61okhov's hands which held 
the pack. Much depended on Rost6v's win- 
ning or losing on that seven of hearts. On the 
previous Sunday the old count had given his 
son two thousand rubles, and though he al- 
ways disliked speaking of money difficulties 
had told Nicholas that this was all he could let 



BOOK 

him have till May, and asked him to be more 
economical this time. Nicholas had replied 
that it would be more than enough for him 
and that he gave his word of honor not to take 
anything more till the spring. Now only twelve 
hundred rubles was left of that money, so that 
this seven of hearts meant for him not only the 
loss of sixteen hundred rubles, but the neces- 
sity of going back on his word. With a sinking 
heart he watched D61okhov's hands and 
thought, "Now then, make haste and let me 
have this card and I'll take my cap and drive 
home to supper with Denfsov, Natdsha, and 
S6nya, and will certainly never touch a card 
again." At that moment his home life, jokes 
with Ptya, talks with S6nya, duets with Natd- 
sha, piquet with his father, and even his com- 
fortable bed in the house on the Povarskaya 
rose before him with such vividness, clearness, 
and charm that it seemed as if it were all a lost 
and unappreciated bliss, long past. He could 
not conceive that a stupid chance, letting the 
seven be dealt to the right rather than to the 
left, might deprive him of all this happiness, 
newly appreciated and newly illumined, and 
plunge him into the depths of unknown and 
undefined misery. That could not be, yet he* 
awaited with a sinking heart the movement of 
D61okhov's hands. Those broad, reddish hands, 
with hairy wrists visible from under the shirt 
cuffs, laid down the pack and took up a glass 
and a pipe that were handed him. 

"So you are not afraid to play with me?" re- 
peated D61okhov, and as if about to tell a good 
story he put down the cards, leaned back in his 
chair, and began deliberately with a smile: 

"Yes, gentlemen, I've been told there's a ru- 
mor going about Moscow that I'm a sharper, 
so I advise you to be careful." 

"Come now, deal I" exclaimed Rost6v. 

"Oh, those Moscow gossips!" said D61okhov, 
and he took up the cards with a smile. 

"Aah!" Rost6v almost screamed lifting both 
hands to his head. The seven he needed was ly- 
ing uppermost, the first card in the pack. He 
had lost more than he could pay. 

"Still, don't ruin yourself 1" said D61okhov 
with a side glance at Rost6v as he continued to 
deal. 

CHAPTER XIV 

AN HOUR and a half later most of the players 
were but little interested in their own play. 

The whole interestwas concentrated on Ros- 
t6v. Instead of sixteen hundred rubles he had 
a long column of figures scored against him, 



FOUR 189 

which he had reckoned up to ten thousand, 
but that now, as he vaguely supposed, must 
have risen to fifteen thousand. In reality it al- 
ready exceeded twenty thousand rubles. D6- 
lokhov was no longer listening to stories or 
telling them, but followed every movement of 
Rostov's hands and occasionally ran his eyes 
over the score against him. He had decided to 
play until that score reached forty-three thou- 
sand. He had fixed on that number because 
forty-three was the sum of his and S6nya's joint 
ages. Rost6v, leaning his head on both hands, 
sat at the table which was scrawled over with 
figures, wet with spilled wine, and littered with 
cards. One tormenting impression did not leave 
him: that those broad- boned reddish hands 
with hairy wrists visible from under the shirt 
sleeves, those hands which he loved and hated, 
held him in their power. 

"Six hundred rubles, ace, a corner, a nine 
. . . winning it back's impossible . . . Oh, how 
pleasant it was at home I . . . The knave, double 
or quits ... it can't bel . . . And why is he doing 
this to me?" Rostov pondered. Sometimes he 
staked a large sum, but Drilokhov refused to 
accept it and fixed the stake himself. Nicholas 
submitted to him, and at one moment prayed 
to God as he had done on the battlefield at the 
bridge over the Enns, and then guessed that 
the card that came first to hand from the crum- 
pled heap under the table would save him, 
now counted the cords on his coat and took a 
card with that number and tried staking the 
total of his losses on it, then he looked round 
for aid from the other players, or peered at the 
now cold face of D61okhov and tried to read 
what was passing in his mind. 

"He knows of course what this loss means to 
me. He can't want my ruin. Wasn't he my 
friend? Wasn't I fond of him? But it's not his 
fault. What's he to do if he has such luck? . . . 
And it's not my fault either," he thought to 
himself, "I have done nothing wrong. Have I 
killed anyone, or insulted or wished harm to 
anyone? Why such a terrible misfortune? And 
when did it begin? Such a little while ago 1 
came to this table with the thought of winning 
a hundred rubles to buy that casket for Mam- 
ma's name day and then going home. I was so 
happy, so free, so lightheartedl And I did not 
realize how happy I was! When did that end 
and when did this new, terrible state of things 
begin? What marked the change? I sat all the 
time in this same place at this table, chose and 
placed cards, and watched those broad-boned 
agile hands in the same way. When did it hap- 



igo 



WAR AND PEACE 



pen and what has happened? I am well and 
strong and still the same and in the same place. 
No, it can't be! Surely it will all end in noth- 
ing!" 

He was flushed and bathed in perspiration, 
though the room was not hot. His face was ter- 
rible and piteous to see, especially from its 
helpless efforts to seem calm. 

The score against him reached the fateful 
sum of forty-three thousand. Rost6v had just 
prepared a card, by bending the corner of 
which he meant to double the three thousand 
just put down to his score, when D61okhov, 
slamming down the pack of cards, put it aside 
and began rapidly adding up the total of Ros- 
t6v's debt, breaking the chalk as he marked the 
figures in his clear, bold hand. 

"Supper, it's time for supper! And here are 
the gypsies!" 

Some swarthy men and women were really 
entering from the cold outside and saying some- 
thing in their gypsy accents. Nicholas under- 
stood that it was all over; but he said in an in- 
different tone: 

"Well, won't you go on? I had a splendid 
card all ready," as if it were the fun of the 
game which interested him most. 

"It's all up! I'm lost!" thought he. "Now a 
bullet through my brainthat's all that's left 
me!" And at the same time he said in a cheer- 
ful voice: 

"Come now, just this one more little card!" 

"All right!" said D61okhov, having finished 
the addition. "All right! Twenty-one rubles," 
he said, pointing to the figure twenty-one by 
which the total exceeded the round sum of 
forty-three thousand; and taking up a pack he 
prepared to deal. Rost6v submissively unbent 
the corner of his card and, instead of the six 
thousand he had intended, carefully wrote 
twenty-one. 

"It's all the same to me," he said. "I only 
want to see whether you will let me win this 
ten, or beat it." 

D61okhov began to deal seriously. Oh, how 
Rost6v detested at that moment those hands 
with their short reddish fingers and hairy 
wrists, which held him in their power. . . . The 
ten fell to him. 

"You owe forty-three thousand, Count," said 
D61okhov, and stretching himself he rose from 
the table. "One does get tired sitting so long," 
he added. 

"Yes, I'm tired too," said Rost6v. 

D61okhov cut him short, as if to remind him 
that it was not for him to jest. 



"When am I to receive the money, Count?" 

Rost6v, flushing, drew D61okhov into the 
next room. 

"I cannot pay it all immediately. Will you 
take an I.O.U.?" he said. 

"I say, Rost6v," said D61okhov clearly, smil- 
ing and looking Nicholas straight in the eyes, 
"you know the saying, 'Lucky in love, unlucky 
at cards.' Your cousin is in love with you, I 
know." 

"Oh, it's terrible to feel oneself so in this 
man's power," thought Rost6v. He knew what 
a shock he would inflict on his father and 
mother by the news of this loss, he knew what 
a relief it would be to escape it all, and felt 
that Dolokhov knew that he could save him 
from all this shame and sorrow, but wanted 
now to play with him as a cat does with a 
mouse. 

"Your cousin . . ." D61okhov started to say, 
but Nicholas interrupted him. 

"My cousin has nothing to do with this and 
it's not necessary to mention her!" he ex- 
claimed fiercely. 

"Then when am I to have it?" 

"Tomorrow," replied Rost6v and left the 
'room. 

CHAPTER XV 

To SAY "tomorrow" and keep up a dignified 
tone was not difficult, but to go home alone, 
see his sisters, brother, mother, and father, con- 
fess and ask for money he had no right to after 
giving his word of honor, was terrible. 

At home, they had not yet gone to bed. The 
young people, after returning from the theater, 
had had supper and were grouped round the 
clavichord. As soon as Nicholas entered, he 
was enfolded in that poetic atmosphere of love 
which pervaded the Rost6v household that 
winter and, now after D61okhov's proposal and 
logel's ball, seemed to have grown thicker 
round S6nya and Natdsha as the air does be- 
fore a thunderstorm. S6nya and Natasha, in 
the light-blue dresses they had worn at the 
theater, looking pretty and conscious of it, 
were standing by the clavichord, happy and 
smiling. Vera was playing chess with Shinshin 
in the drawing room. The old countess, wait- 
ing for the return of her husband and son, sat 
playing patience with the old gentlewoman 
who lived in their house. Denfsov, with spar- 
kling eyes and ruffled hair, sat at the clavichord 
striking chords with his short fingers, his legs 
thrown back and his eyes rolling as he sang, 
with his small, husky, but true voice, some 



BOOK FOUR 



verses called "Enchantress," which he had com- 
posed, and to which he was trying to fit music: 

Enchantress, say, to my forsaken lyre 
What magic power is this recalls me still? 
What spark has set my inmost soul on fire, 
What is this bliss that makes my fingers thrill? 

He was singing in passionate tones, gazing with 
his sparkling black-agate eyes at the frightened 
and happy Natdsha. 

"Splendid! Excellent!" exclaimed Natdsha. 
"Another verse," she said, without noticing 
Nicholas. 

"Everything's still the same with them," 
thought Nicholas, glancing into the drawing 
room, where he saw Vra and his mother with 
the old lady. 

"Ah, and here's Nicholas!" cried Natdsha, 
running up to him. 

"Is Papa at home?" he asked. 

"I am so glad you've come!" said Natdsha, 
without answering him. "We are en joying our- 
selves! Vasfli Dmftrich is staying a day longer 
for my sake! Did you know?" 

"No, Papa is not back yet," said S6nya. 

"Nicholas, have you come? Come here, 
dear!" called the old countess from the draw- 
ing room. 

Nicholas went to her, kissed her hand, and 
sitting down silently at her table began to 
watch her hands arranging the cards. From the 
dancing room, they still heard the laughter 
and merry voices trying to persuade Natdsha to 
sing. 

"All wight! All wight!" shouted Denfsov. 
"It's no good making excuses now! It's your 
turn to sing the ba'cawolla I entweat you!" 

The countess glanced at her silent son. 

"What is the matter?" she asked. 

"Oh, nothing," said he, as if weary of being 
continually asked the same question. "Will 
Papa be back soon?" 

"I expect so." 

"Everything's the same with them. They 
know nothing about it! Where am I to go?" 
thought Nicholas, and went again into the 
dancing room where the clavichord stood. 

S6nya was sitting at the clavichord, playing 
the prelude to Denfsov's favorite barcarolle. 
Natdsha was preparing to sing. Denfsov was 
looking at her with enraptured eyes. 

Nicholas began pacing up and down the 
room. 

"Why do they want to make her sing? How 
can she sing? There's nothing to be happy 
about I " thought he. 



S6nya struck the first chord of the prelude. 

"My God, I'm a ruined and dishonored man! 
A bullet through my brain is the only thing 
left me not singing!" his thoughts ran on. "Go 
away? But where to? It's all one let them sing!" 

He continued to pace the room, looking 
gloomily at Denfsov and the girls and avoiding 
their eyes. 

"Nik61enka, what is the matter?" S6nya's 
eyes fixed on him seemed to ask. She noticed at 
once that something had happened to him. 

Nicholas turned away from her. Natdsha too, 
with her quick instinct, had instantly noticed 
her brother's condition. But, though she no- 
ticed it, she was herself in such high spirits at 
that moment, so far from sorrow, sadness, or 
self-reproach, that she purposely deceived her- 
self as young people of ten do." No, I am too hap- 
py now to spoil my enjoyment by sympathy with 
anyone's sorrow," she felt, and she said to her- 
self: "No, I must be mistaken, he must be feel- 
ing happy, just as I am." 

"Now, Sonya!" she said, going to the very 
middle of the room, where she considered the 
resonance was best. 

Having lifted her head and let her arms 
droop lifelessly, as ballet dancers do, Natdsha, 
rising energetically from her heels to her toes, 
stepped to the middle of the room and stood 
still. 

"Yes, that's me!"sheseemed to say, answering 
the rapt gaze with which Denfsov followed her. 

"And what is she so pleased about?" thought 
Nicholas, looking at his sister. "Why isn't she 
dull and ashamed?" 

Natdsha took the first note, her throat 
swelled, her chest rose, her eyes became serious. 
At that moment she was oblivious of her sur- 
roundings, and from her smiling lips flowed 
sounds which anyone may produce at the same 
intervals and hold for the same time, but which 
leave you cold a thousand times and the thou- 
sand and first time thrill you and make you 
weep. 

Natdsha, that winter, had for the first time 
begun to sing seriously, mainly because Den- 
fsov so delighted in her singing. She no longer 
sang as a child, there was no longer in her sing- 
ing that comical, childish, painstaking effect 
that had been in it before; but she did not yet 
sing well, as all the connoisseurs who heard her 
said: "It is not trained, but it is a beautiful 
voice that must be trained." Only they gener- 
ally said this some time after she had finished 
singing. While that untrained voice, with its 
incorrect breathing and labored transitions, 



WAR AND PEACE 



was sounding, even the connoisseurs said noth- 
ing, but only delighted in it and wished to hear 
it again. In her voice there was a virginal 
freshness, an unconsciousness of her own pow- 
ers, and an as yet untrained velvety softness, 
which so mingled with her lack of art in sing- 
ing that it seemed as if nothing in that voice 
could be altered without spoiling it. 

"What is this?" thought Nicholas, listening 
to her with widely opened eyes. "What has 
happened to her? How she is singing today 1" 
And suddenly the whole world centered for 
him on anticipation of the next note, the next 
phrase, and everything in the world was di- 
vided into three beats: "Oh mio crudelc affet- 
to" . . . One, two, three . . . one, two, three . . . 
One . . . "Oh mio crudele affetto." . . . One, 
two, three . . . One. "Oh, this senseless life of 
ours!" thought Nicholas. "All this misery, and 
money, and D61okhov, and anger, and honor 
it's all nonsense . . . but this is real. . . . Now 
then, Natdsha, now then, dearest! Now then, 
darling! How will she take that si? She's taken 
it! Thank God!" And without noticing that he 
was singing, to strengthen the si he sung a 
second, a third below the high note. "Ah, God! 
How fine! Did I really take it? How fortunate!" 
he thought. 

Oh, how that chord vibrated, and how moved 
was something that was finest in Rostov's soul! 
And this something was apart from everything 
else in the world and above everything in the 
world. "What were losses, and D61okhov, and 
words of honor? . . . All nonsense! One might 
kill and rob and yet be happy " 

CHAPTER XVI 

IT WAS LONG since Rost6v had felt such enjoy- 
ment from music as he did that day. But no 
sooner had Natdsha finished her barcarolle 
than reality again presented itself. He got up 
without saying a word and went downstairs to 
his own room. A quarter of an hour later the 
old count came in from his Club, cheerful and 
contented. Nicholas, hearing him drive up, 
went to meet him. 

"Well had a good time?" said the old count, 
smiling gaily and proudly at his son. 

Nicholas tried to say "Yes," but could not: 
and he nearly burst into sobs. The count was 
lighting his pipe and did not notice his son's 
condition. 

"Ah, it can't be avoided!" thought Nicholas, 
for the first and last time. And suddenly, in the 
most casual tone, which made him feel ashamed 
of himself, he said, as if merely asking his fa- 



ther to let him have the carriage to drive to 
town: 

"Papa, I have come on a matter of business. 
I was nearly forgetting. I need some money." 

"Dear me!" said his father, who was in a spe- 
cially good humor. "I told you it would not be 
enough. How much?" 

"Very much," said Nicholas flushing, and 
with a stupid careless smile, for which he was 
long unable to forgive himself, "I have lost a 
little, I mean a good deal, a great deal forty- 
three thousand." 

"What! To whom? . . . Nonsense!" cried the 
count, suddenly reddening with an apoplectic 
flush over neck and nape as old people do. 

"I promised to pay tomorrow," said Nicho- 
las. 

"Well! . . ."said the old count, spreading out 
his arms and sinking helplessly on the sofa. 

"It can't behelped! It happens toeveryone!" 
said the son, with a bold, free, and easy tone, 
while in his soul he regarded himself as a 
worthless scoundrel whose whole life could not 
atone for his crime. He longed to kiss his fa- 
ther's hands and kneel to beg his forgiveness, 
but said, in a careless and even rude voice, that 
it happens to everyone! 

The old count cast down his eyes on hearing 
his son's words and began bustlingly searching 
for something. 

"Yes, yes," he muttered, "it will be difficult, 
I fear, difficult to raise . . . happens to every- 
body! Yes, who has not done it?" 

And with a furtive glance at his son's face, 
the count went out of the room. . . . Nicholas 
had been prepared for resistance, but had not 
at all expected this. 

"Papa! Pa-pa!" he called after him, sobbing, 
"forgive me!" And seizing his father's hand, he 
pressed it to his lips and burst into tears. 

While father and son were having their ex- 
planation, the mother and daughter were hav- 
ing one not less important. Natdsha came run- 
ning to her mother, quite excited. , 

"Mamma! . . . Mamma! . . . He has made 
me . . ." 

"Made what?" 

"Made, made me an offer, Mamma! Mam- 
ma!" she exclaimed. 

The countess did not believe her ears. Den- 
isov had proposed. To whom? To this chit of a 
girl, Natasha, who not so long ago was playing 
with dolls and who was still having lessons. 

"Don't, Natdsha! What nonsense!" she said, 
hoping it was a joke. 

"Nonsense, indeed! lamtellingyou the fact," 



BOOK 

said Natasha indignantly. "I come to ask you 
what to do, and you call it 'nonsense!' " 

The countess shrugged her shoulders. 

"If it is true that Monsieur Denfsov has made 
you a proposal, tell him he is a fool, that's all I" 

"No, he's not a fool!" replied Natasha indig- 
nantly and seriously. 

"Well then, what do you want? You're all in 
love nowadays. Well, if you are in love, mar- 
ry him!" said the countess, with a laugh of an- 
noyance. "Good luck to you!" 

"No, Mamma, I'm not in love with him, I 
suppose I'm not in love with him." 

"Well then, tell him so." 

"Mamma, are you cross? Don't be cross, dear! 
Is it my fault?" 

"No, but what is it, my dear? Do you want 
me to go and tell him?" said the countess smil- 
ing. 

"No, I will do it myself, only tell me what to 
say. It's all very well for you," said Natdsha, 
with a responsive smile. "You should have seen 
how he said it! I know he did not mean to say 
it, but it came out accidently." 

"Well, all the same, you must refuse him." 

"No, I mustn't. I am so sorry for him! He's 
so nice." 

"Well then, accept his offer. It's high time 
for you to be married," answered the countess 
sharply and sarcastically. 

"No, Mamma, but I'm so sorry for him. I 
don't know how I'm to say it." 

"And there's nothing for you to say. I shall 
speak to him myself," said the countess, indig- 
nant that they should have dared to treat this 
little Natdsha as grown up. 

"No, not on any account! I will tell him my- 
self, and you'll listen at the door," and Natasha 
ran across the drawing room to the dancing 
hall, where Denfsov was sitting on the same 
chair by the clavichord with his face in his 
hands. 

He jumped up at the sound of her light step. 

"Nataly," he said, moving with rapid steps 
toward her, "decide my fate. It is in your hands." 

"Vasfli Dmitrich, I'm so sorry for you! . . . 
No, but you are so nice . . . but it won't do ... 
not that . . . but as a friend, I shall always love 
you." 



FOUR 193 

Denlsov bent over her hand and she heard 
strange sounds she did not understand. She 
kissed his rough curly black head. At this in- 
stant, they heard the quick rustle of the count- 
ess' dress. She came up to them. 

"Vasfli Dmitrich, I thankyou for the honor," 
she said, with an embarrassed voice, though it 
sounded severe to Denlsov "but my daughter 
is so young, and I thought that, as my son's 
friend, you would have addressed yourself 
first to me. In that case you would not have 
obliged me to give this refusal." 

"Countess . . ." said Denfsov, with downcast 
eyes and a guilty face. He tried to say more, but 
faltered. 

Natasha could not remain calm, seeing him 
in such a plight. She began to sob aloud. 

"Countess, I have done w'ong," Denfsov 
went on in an unsteady voice, "but believe me, 
I so adore your daughter and all your family 
that I would give my life twice over . . ." He 
looked at the countess, and seeing her severe 
face said: "Well, good-by, Countess," and kiss- 
ing her hand, he left the room with quick reso- 
lute strides, without looking at Natasha. 

Next day Rost6vsaw Denfsov off. He did not 
wish to stay another day in Moscow. All Denf- 
sov's Moscow friends gave him a farewell en- 
tertainment at the gypsies', with the result that 
he had no recollection of how he was put in the 
sleigh or of the first three stages of his journey. 

After Denfsov's departure, Rost6v spent an- 
other fortnight in Moscow, without going out 
of the house, waiting for the money his father 
could not at once raise, and he spent most of 
his time in the girls' room. 

S6nya was more tender and devoted to him 
than ever. It was as if she wanted to show him 
that his losses were an achievement that made 
her love him all the more, but Nicholas now 
considered himself unworthy of her. 

He filled the girls' albums with verses and 
music, and having at last sent D61okhov the 
whole forty-three thousand rubles and received 
his receipt, he left at the end of November, 
without taking leave of any of his acquaint- 
ances, to overtake his regiment which was al- 
ready in Poland. 



Book Five: 1806-07 



CHAPTER I 

AFTER HIS INTERVIEW with his wife Pierre left 
for Petersburg. At the Torzh6k post station, 
either there were no horses or the postmaster 
would not supply them. Pierre was obliged to 
wait. Without undressing, he lay down on the 
leather sofa in front of a round table, put his 
big feet in their overboots on the table, and 
began to reflect. 

"Will you have the portmanteaus brought in? 
And a bed got ready, and tea?" asked his valet. 

Pierre gave no answer, for he neither heard 
nor saw anything. He had begun to think of 
the last station and was still pondering on the 
same question one so important that he took 
no notice of what went on around him. Not 
only was he indifferent as to whether he got to 
Petersburg earlier or later, or whether he se- 
cured accommodation at this station, but com- 
pared to the thoughts that now occupied him 
it was a matter of indifference whether he re- 
mained there for a few hours or for the rest of 
his life. 

The postmaster, his wife, the valet, and a 
peasant woman selling Torzh6k embroidery 
came into the room offering their services. 
Without changing his careless attitude, Pierre 
looked at them over his spectacles unable to 
understand what they wanted or how they 
could go on living without having solved the 
problems that so absorbed him. He had been 
engrossed by the same thoughts ever since the 
day he returned from Sok61niki after the duel 
and had spent that first agonizing, sleepless 
night. But now, in the solitude of the journey, 
they seized him with special force. No matter 
what he thought about, he always returned to 
these same questions which he could not solve 
and yet could not cease to ask himself. It was 
as if the thread of the chief screw which held 
his life together were stripped, so that thescrew 
could not get in or out, but went on turning 
uselessly in the same place. 

The postmaster came in and began obse- 
quiously to beg his excellency to wait only two 



hours, when, come what might, he would let 
his excellency have the courier horses. It was 
plain that he was lying and only wanted to get 
more money from the traveler. 

"Is this good or bad?" Pierre asked himself. 
"It is good for me, bad for another traveler, 
and for himself it's unavoidable, because he 
needs money for food; the man said an officer 
had once given him a thrashing for letting a 
private traveler have the courier horses. But 
the officer thrashed him because he had to get 
on as quickly as possible. And I," continued 
Pierre, "shot Dolokhov because I considered 
myself injured, and Louis XVI was executed 
because they considered him a criminal, and a 
year later they executed those who executed 
him also for some reason. What is bad? What 
is good? What should one love and what hate? 
What does one live for? And what am I? What 
is life, and what is death? What power governs 
all?" 

There was no answer to any of these ques- 
tions, except one, and that not a logical answer 
and not at all a reply to them. The answer was: 
"You'll die and all will end. You'll die and 
know all, or cease asking." But dying was also 
dreadful. 

The Torzh6k peddler woman, in a whining 
voice, went on offering her wares, especially a 
pair of goatskin slippers. "I have hundreds of 
rubles I don't know what to do with, and she 
stands in her tattered cloak looking timidly at 
me," he thought. "And what does she want the 
money for? As if that money could add a hair's 
breadth to her happiness or peaceof mind. Can 
anything in the world make her or me less a 
prey to evil and death? death which ends all 
and must come today or tomorrow at any rate, 
in an instant as compared with eternity." And 
again he twisted the screw with the stripped 
thread, and again it turned uselessly in the 
same place. 

His servant handed him a half-cut novel, in 
the form of letters, by Madame de Souza. He 
began reading about the sufferings and virtu- 



'94 



BOOK FIVE 



195 



>us struggles of a certain Emilie de Mansfeld. 
'And why did she resist her seducer when she 
ioved him?" he thought. "God could not have 
put into her heart an impulse that was against 
His will. My wife as she once was did not 
itruggle, and perhaps she was right. Nothing 
has been found out, nothing discovered," 
Pierre again said to himself. "All we can know 
is that we know nothing. And that's the height 
->f human wisdom." 

Everything within and around him seemed 
:on fused, senseless, and repellent. Yet in this 
very repugnance to all his circumstances Pierre 
found a kind of tantalizing satisfaction. 

"I make bold to ask your excellency to move 
\ little for this gentleman," said the postmaster, 
entering the room followed by another travel- 
er, also detained for lack of horses. 

The newcomer was a short, large-boned, yel- 
low-faced, wrinkled old man, with gray bushy 
eyebrows overhanging bright eyes of an indefi- 
nite grayish color. 

Pierre took his feet off the table, stood up, 
and lay down on a bed that had been got ready 
for him, glancing now and then at the newcom- 
er, who, with a gloomy and tired face, was 
wearily taking off his wraps with the aid of his 
servant, and not looking at Pierre. With a pair 
of felt boots on his thin bony legs, and keep- 
ing on a worn, nankeen-covered, sheepskin 
coat, the traveler sat down on the sofa, leaned 
back his big head with its broad temples and 
close-cropped hair, and looked at Beziikhov. 
The stern, shrewd, and penetrating expression 
of that look struck Pierre. He felt a wish to 
speak to the stranger, but by the time he had 
made up his mind to ask him a question about 
the roads, the traveler had closed his eyes. His 
shriveled old hands were folded and on the 
finger of one of them Pierre noticed a large cast- 
iron ring with a seal representing a death's- 
head. The stranger sat without stirring, either 
resting or, as it seemed to Pierre, sunk in pro- 
found and calm meditation. His servant was 
also a yellow, wrinkled old man, without beard 
or mustache, evidently not because he was shav- 
en but because they had never grown. This ac- 
tive old servant was unpacking the traveler's 
canteen and preparing tea. He brought in a 
boiling samovar. When everything was ready, 
the stranger opened his eyes, moved to the 
table, filled a tumbler with tea for himself and 
one for the beardless old man to whom he 
passed it. Pierre began to feel a sense of un- 
easiness, and the need, even the inevitability, of 
entering into conversation with this stranger. 



The servant brought back his tumbler turned 
upside down, 1 with an unfinished bit of nib- 
bled sugar, and asked if anything more would 
be wanted. 

"No. Give me the book," said the stranger. 

The servant handed him a book which 
Pierre took to be a devotional work, and the 
traveler became absorbed in it. Pierre looked 
at him. All at once the stranger closed the book, 
putting in a marker, and again, leaning with 
his arms on the back of the sofa, sat in his 
former position with his eyes shut. Pierre looked 
at him and had not time to turn away when the 
old man, opening his eyes, fixed his steady and 
severe gaze straight on Pierre's face. 

Pierre felt confused and wished to avoid that 
look, but the bright old eyes attracted him ir- 
resistibly. 

CHAPTER II 

"I HAVE THE PLEASURE of addressing Count Be- 
ziikhov, if I am not mistaken," said the stran- 
ger in a deliberate and loud voice. 

Pierre looked silently and inquiringly at him 
over his spectacles. 

"I have heard of you, my dear sir," continued 
the stranger, "and of your misfortune." He 
seemed to emphasize the last word, as if to say 
"Yes, misfortune! Call it what you please, I 
know that what happened to you in Moscow 
was a misfortune." "I regret it very much, my 
dear sir." 

Pierre flushed and, hurriedly putting his legs 
down from the bed, bent forward toward the 
old man with a forced and timid smile. 

"I have not referred to this out of curiosity, 
my dear sir, but for greater reasons." 

He paused, his gaze still on Pierre, and moved 
aside on the sofa by way of inviting the other 
to take a seat beside him. Pierre felt reluctant 
to enter into conversation with this old man, 
but, submitting to him involuntarily, came up 
and sat down beside him. 

"You are unhappy, my dear sir," the stranger 
continued. "You are young and I am old. I 
should like to help you as far as lies in my 
power." 

"Oh, yes!" said Pierre, with a forced smile. 
"I am very grateful to you. Where are you trav- 
eling from?" 

The stranger's face was not genial, it was 
even cold and severe, but in spite of this, both 
the face and words of his new acquaintance 
were irresistibly attractive to Pierre. 

"But if for any reason you don't feel inclined 

1 To indicate he did not want more tea. 



ig6 



WAR AND PEACE 



to talk to me," said the old man, "say so, my 
dear sir." And he suddenly smiled, in an un- 
expected and tenderly paternal way, 

"Oh no, not at all! On the contrary, I am 
very glad to make your acquaintance," said 
Pierre. And again, glancing at the stranger's 
hands, he looked more closely at the ring, with 
its skulla Masonic sign. 

"Allow me to ask," he said, "are you a Ma- 
son?" 

"Yes, I belong to the Brotherhood of the 
Freemasons," said the stranger, looking deep- 
er and deeper into Pierre's eyes. "And in their 
name and my own I hold out a brotherly hand 
to you." 

"I am afraid," said Pierre, smiling, and wa- 
vering between the confidence the personality 
of the Freemason inspired in him and his own 
habit of ridiculing the Masonic beliefs "I am 
afraid I am very far from understanding how 
am I to put it? I am afraid my way of looking 
at the world is so*opposed to yours that we 
shall not understand one another." 

"I knowyour outlook," said the Mason, "and 
the view of life you mention, and which you 
think is the result of your own mental efforts, 
is the one held by the majority of people, and 
is the invariable fruit of pride, indolence, and 
ignorance. Forgive me, my dear sir, but if I 
had not known it I should not have addressed 
you. Your view of life is a regrettable delusion." 

"Just as I may suppose you to be deluded," 
said Pierre, with a faint smile. 

"I should never dare to say that I know the 
truth," said the Mason, whose words struck 
Pierre more and more by their precision and 
firmness. "No one can attain to truth by him- 
self. Only by laying stone on stone with the co- 
operation of all, by the millions of generations 
from our forefather Adam to our own times, is 
that temple reared which is to be a worthy 
dwelling place of the Great God," he added, 
and closed his eyes. 

"I ought to tell you that I do not believe 
... do not believe in God," said Pierre, regret- 
fully and with an effort, feeling it essential to 
speak the whole truth. 

The Mason looked intently at Pierre and 
smiled as a rich man with millions in hand 
might smile at a poor fellow who told him that 
he, poor man, had not the five rubles that 
would make him happy. 

"Yes, you do not know Him, my dear sir," 
said the Mason. "You cannot know Him. You 
do not know Him and that is why you are un- 
happy." 



"Yes, yes, I am unhappy," assented Pierre. 
"But what am I to do?" 

"You know Him not, my dear sir, and so you 
are very unhappy. You do not know Him, but 
He is here, He is in me, He is in my words, He 
is in thee,and even in those blasphemous words 
thou hast just uttered!" pronounced the Mason 
in a stern and tremulous voice. 

He paused and sighed, evidently trying to 
calm himself. 

"If He were not," he said quietly, "you and 
I would not be speaking of Him, my dear sir. 
Of what, of whom, are we speaking? Whom 
hast thou denied?" he suddenly asked with ex- 
ulting austerity and authority in his voice. 
"Who invented Him, if He did not exist? 
Whence came thy conception of the existence 
of such an incomprehensible Being? Why didst 
thou, and why did the whole world, conceive 
the idea of the existence of such an incompre- 
hensible Being, a Being all-powerful, eternal, 
and infinite in all His attributes? . . ." 

He stopped and remained silent for a long 
time. 

Pierre could not and did not wish to break 
this silence. 

"He exists, but to understand Him is hard," 
the Mason began again, looking not at Pierre 
but straight before him, and turning the leaves 
of his book with his old hands which from ex- 
citement he could not keep still. "If it were a 
man whose existence thou didst doubt I could 
bring him to thee, could take him by the hand 
and show him to thee. But how can I, an insig- 
nificant mortal, show His omnipotence, His in- 
finity, and all His mercy to one who is blind, 
or who shuts his eyes that he may not see or 
understand Him and may not see or under- 
stand his own vileness and sinfulness?" He 
paused again. "Who art thou? Thou dreamest 
that thou art wise because thou couldst utter 
those blasphemous words," he went on, with a 
somber and scornful smile. "And thou art more 
foolish and unreasonable than a little child, 
who, playing with the parts of a skillfully made 
watch, dares to say that, as he does not under- 
stand its use, he does not believe in the master 
who made it. To know Him is hard. . . . For 
ages, from our forefather Adam to our own 
day, we labor to attain that knowledge and are 
still infinitely far from our aim; but in our 
lack of understanding we see only our weak- 
ness and His greatness. . . ." 

Pierre listened with swelling heart, gazing 
into the Mason's face with shining eyes, not 
interrupting or questioning him, but believ- 



ing with his whole soul what the stranger said. 
Whether he accepted the wise reasoning con- 
tained in the Mason's words, or believed as a 
child believes, in the speaker's tone of convic- 
tion and earnestness, or the tremor of the speak- 
er's voicewhich sometimes almost broke or 
those brilliant aged eyes grown old in this con- 
viction, or the calm firmness and certainty of 
his vocation, which radiated from his whole be- 
ing (and which struck Pierre especially by con- 
trast with his own dejection and hopelessness) 
at any rate, Pierre longed with his whole soul 
to believe and he did believe, and felt a joyful 
sense of comfort, regeneration, and return to 
life. 

"He is not to be apprehended by reason, 
but by life," said the Mason. 

"I do not understand," said Pierre, feeling 
with dismay doubts reawakening. He was 
afraid of any want of clearness, any weakness, 
in the Mason's arguments; he dreaded not to 
be able to believe in him. "I don't under- 
stand," he said, "how it is that the mind of 
man cannot attain the knowledge of which 
you speak." 

The Mason smiled with his gentle fatherly 
smile. 

"The highest wisdom and truth are like the 
purest liquid we may wish to imbibe," he said. 
"Can I receive that pure liquid into an impure 
vessel and judge of its purity? Only by the in- 
ner purification of myself can I retain in some 
degree of purity the liquid I receive." 

"Yes, yes, that is so," said Pierre joyfully. 

"The highest wisdom is not founded on rea- 
son alone, not on those worldly sciences of phys- 
ics, history, chemistry, and the like, into which 
intellectual knowledge is divided. The highest 
wisdom is one. The highest wisdom has but 
one science the science of the whole the sci- 
ence explaining the whole creation and man's 
place in it. To receive that science it is neces- 
sary to purify and renew one's inner self, and 
so before one can know, it is necessary to be- 
lieve and to perfect one's self. And to attain 
this end, we have the light called conscience 
that God has implanted in our souls." 

"Yes, yes," assented Pierre. 

"Look then at thy inner self with the eyes of 
the spirit, and ask thyself whether thou art con- 
tent with thyself. What -hast thou attained re- 
lying on reason only? What art thou? You are 
young, you are rich, you are clever, you are well 
educated. And what have you done with all 
these good gifts? Are you content with yourself 
and with your life?" 



BOOK FIVE 197 

"No, I hate my life," Pierre muttered, winc- 



ing. 

"Thou hatest it. Then change it, purify thy- 
self; and as thou art purified, thou wilt gain 
wisdom. Look at your life, my dear sir. How 
have you spent it? In riotous orgies and de- 
bauchery, receiving everything from society 
and giving nothing in return. You have be- 
come the possessor of wealth. How have you 
used it? What have you done for your neigh- 
bor? Have you ever thought of your tens of 
thousands of slaves? Have you helped them 
physically and morally? No! You have profited 
by their toil to lead a profligate life. That is 
what you have done. Have you chosen a post 
in which you might be of service to your neigh- 
bor? No! You have spent your life in idleness. 
Then you married, my dear sirtook on your- 
self responsibility for the guidance of a young 
woman; and what have you done? You have 
not helped her to find the way of truth, my 
dear sir, but have thrust her into an abyss of de- 
ceit and misery. A man offended you and you 
shot him, and you say you do not know God 
and hate your life. There is nothing strange in 
that, my dear sir!" 

After these words, the Mason, as if tired by 
his long discourse, again leaned his arms on 
the back of the sofa and closed his eyes. Pierre 
looked at that aged, stern, motionless, almost 
lifeless face and moved his lips without utter- 
ing a sound. He wished to say, "Yes, a vile, idle, 
vicious life!" but dared not break the silence. 

The Mason cleared his throat huskily, as 
old men do, and called his servant. 

"How about the horses?" he asked, without 
looking at Pierre. 

"The exchange horses have just come," an- 
swered the servant. "Will you not rest here?" 

"No, tell them to harness." 

"Can he really be going away and leaving me 
alone without having told me all, and without 
promising to help me?" thought Pierre, rising 
with downcast head; and he began to pace the 
room, glancing occasionally at the Mason. "Yes, 
I never thought of it, but I have led a con- 
temptible and profligate life, though I did not 
like it and did not want to," thought Pierre. 
"But this man knows the truth and, if he wished 
to, could disclose it to me." 

Pierre wished to say this to the Mason, but 
did not dare to. The traveler, having packed 
his things with his practiced hands, began fas- 
tening his coat. When he had finished, he turned 
to Bezukhov, and said in a tone of indifferent 
politeness: 



198 



WAR AND PEACE 



"Where are you going to now, my dear sir?" 

"I? . . . I'm going to Petersburg/' answered 
Pierre, in a childlike, hesitating voice. "I thank 
you. I agree with all you have said. But do not 
suppose me to be so bad. With my whole soul 
I wish to be what you would have me be, but 
I have never had help from anyone. . . . But it 
is I, above all, who am to blame for everything. 
Help me, teach me, and perhaps I may . . ." 

Pierre could not go on. He gulped and turn- 
ed away. 

The Mason remained silent for a long time, 
evidently considering. 

"Help comes from God alone," he said, "but 
such measure of help as our Order can bestow 
it will render you, my dear sir. You are going to 
Petersburg. Hand this to Count Willarski" (he 
took out his notebook and wrote a few words 
on a large sheet of paper folded in four). "Al- 
low me to give you a piece of advice. When you 
reach the capital, first of all devote some time 
to solitude and self-examination and do not 
resume your former way of life. And now I 
wish you a good journey, my dear sir," he add- 
ed, seeing that his servant had entered ". . . and 
success." 

The traveler was Joseph Alextfevich Bazd- 
ev, as Pierre saw from the postmaster's book. 
Bazde*ev had been one of the best-known Free- 
masons and Martinists,even in Novfkov's time. 
For a long while after he had gone, Pierre did 
not go to bed or order horses but paced up and 
down the room, pondering over his vicious 
past, and with a rapturous sense of beginning 
anew pictured to himself the blissful, irre- 
proachable, virtuous future that seemed to him 
so easy. It seemed to him that he had been vi- 
cious only because he had somehow forgotten 
how good it is to be virtuous. Not a trace of his 
former doubts remained in his soul. He firmly 
believed in the possibility of the brotherhood 
of men united in the aim of supporting one an- 
other in the path of virtue, and that is how 
Freemasonry presented itself to him. 

CHAPTER III 

ON REACHING Petersburg Pierre did not let 
anyone know of his arrival, he went nowhere 
and spent whole days in reading Thomas a 
Kempis, whose book had been sent him by 
someone unknown. One thing he continually 
realized as he read that book: the joy, hitherto 
unknown to him, of believing in the possibil- 
ity of attaining perfection, and in the possibil- 
ity of active brotherly love among men, which 
Joseph Alex^evich had revealed to him. A 



week after his arrival, the young Polish count, 
Willarski, whom Pierre had known slightly in 
Petersburg society, came into his room one eve- 
ning in the official and ceremonious manner 
in which D61okhov's second had called on him, 
and, having closed the door behind him and 
satisfied himself that there was nobody else in 
the room, addressed Pierre. 

"I have come to you with a message and an 
offer, Count," he said without sitting down. "A 
person of very high standing in our Brother- 
hood has made application for you to be re- 
ceived into our Order before the usual term 
and has proposed to me to be your sponsor. I 
consider it a sacred duty to fulfill that person's 
wishes. Do you wish to enter the Brotherhood 
of Freemasons under my sponsorship?" 

The cold, austere tone of this man, whom he 
had almost always before met at balls, amiably 
smiling in the society of the most brilliant 
women, surprised Pierre. 

"Yes, I do wish it," said he. 

Willarski bowed his head. 

"Onemore question, Count," hesaid, "which 
I beg you to answer in all sincerity not as a 
future Mason but as an honest man: have you 
renounced your former convictions do you be- 
lieve in God?" 

Pierre considered. 

"Yes . . . yes, I believe in God," he said. 

"In that case . . ." began Willarski, but Pierre 
interrupted him. 

"Yes, I do believe in God," he repeated. 

"In that case we can go," said Willarski. "My 
carriage is at your service." 

Willarski was silent throughout the drive. 
To Pierre's inquiries as to what he must do and 
how he should answer, Willarski only replied 
that brothers more worthy than he would test 
him and that Pierre had only to tell the truth. 

Having entered the courtyard of a large 
house where the Lodge had its headquarters, 
and having ascended a dark staircase, they en- 
tered a small well-lit anteroom where they took 
off their cloaks without the aid of a servant. 
From there they passed into another room. A 
man in strange attire appeared at the door. 
Willarski, stepping toward him, said some- 
thing to him in French in an undertone and 
then went up to a small wardrobe in which 
Pierre noticed garments such as he had never 
seen before. Having taken a kerchief from the 
cupboard, Willarski bound Pierre's eyes with 
it and tied it in a knot behind, catching some 
hairs painfully in the knot. Then he drew his 
face down, kissed him, and taking him by the 



BOOK FIVE 



199 



hand led him forward. The hairs tied in the 
knot hurt Pierre and there were lines of pain 
on his face and a shamefaced smile. His huge 
figure, with arms hanging down and with a 
puckered, though smiling face, moved after 
Willarski with uncertain, timid steps. 

Having led him about ten paces, Willarski 
stopped. 

"Whatever happens to you," he said, "you 
must bear it all manfully if you have firmly re- 
solved to join our Brotherhood." (Pierre nod- 
ded affirmatively.) "When you hear a knock at 
the door, you will uncover your eyes," added 
Willarski. "I wish you courage and success," 
and, pressing Pierre's hand, he went out. 

Left alone, Pierre went on smiling in the 
same way. Once or twice he shrugged his shoul- 
ders and raised his hand to the kerchief, as if 
wishing to take it off, but let it drop again. 
The five minutes spent with his eyes bandaged 
seemed to him an hour. His arms felt numb, 
his legs almost gave way, it seemed to him that 
he was tired out. He experienced a variety of 
most complex sensations. He felt afraid of 
what would happen to him and still more 
afraid of showing his fear. He felt curious to 
know what was going to happen and what 
would be revealed to him; but most of all, he 
felt joyful that the moment had come when he 
would at last start on that path of regeneration 
and on the actively virtuous life of which he 
had been dreaming since he met Joseph Alex- 
evich. Loud knocks were heard at the door. Pi- 
erre took the bandage off his eyes and glanced 
around him. The room was in black darkness, 
only a small lamp was burning inside some- 
thing white. Pierre went nearer and saw that 
the lamp stood on a black table on which lay 
an open book. The book was the Gospel, and 
the white thing with the lamp inside was a hu- 
man skull with its cavities and teeth. After 
reading the first words of the Gospel: "In the 
beginning was the Word and the Word was 
with God," Pierre went round the table and 
saw a large open box filled with something. It 
was a coffin with bones inside. He was not at 
all surprised by what he saw. Hoping to enter 
on an entirely new life quite unlike the old one, 
he expected everything to be unusual, even 
more unusual than what he was seeing. A 
skull, a coffin, the Gospel it seemed to him 
that he had expected all this and even more. 
Trying to stimulate his emotions he looked 
around. "God, death, love, the brotherhood 
of man," he kept saying to himself, associat- 
ing these words with vague yet joyful ideas. 



The door opened and someone came in. 

By the dim light, to which Pierre had already 
become accustomed, he saw a rather short man. 
Having evidently come from the light into the 
darkness, the man paused, then moved with 
cautious steps toward the table and placed on 
it his small leather-gloved hands. 

This short man had on a white leather apron 
which covered his chest and part of his legs; he 
had on a kind of necklace above which rose a 
high white ruffle, outlining his rather long 
face which was lit up from below. 

"For what have you come hither?" asked the 
newcomer, turning in Pierre's direction at a 
slight rustle made by the latter. "Why have you, 
who do not believe in the truth of the light 
and who have not seen the light, come here? 
What do you seek from us? Wisdom, virtue, en- 
lightenment?" 

At the moment the door opened and the 
stranger came in, Pierre felt a sense of awe and 
veneration such as he had experienced in his 
boyhood at confession; he felt himself in the 
presence of one socially a complete stranger, 
yet nearer to him through the brotherhood of 
man. With bated breath and beating heart he 
moved toward the Rhetor (by which name the 
brother who prepared a seeker for entrance in- 
to the Brotherhood was known). Drawing near- 
er, he recognized in the Rhetor a man he knew, 
Smolyaninov, and it mortified him to think 
that the newcomer was an acquaintance he 
wished him simply a brother and a virtuous in- 
structor. For a long time he could not utter a 
word, so that the Rhetor had to repeat his ques- 
tion. 

"Yes ... I ... I ... desire regeneration," 
Pierre uttered with difficulty. 

"Very well," said Smolyaninov, and went on 
at once: "Have you any idea of the means by 
which our holy Order will help you to reach 
your aim?" said he quietly and quickly. 

"I ... hope ... for guidance . . . help ... in 
regeneration," said Pierre, with a trembling 
voice and some difficulty in utterance due to 
his excitement and to being unaccustomed to 
speak of abstract matters in Russian. 

"What is your conception of Freemasonry?" 

"I imagine that Freemasonry is the fraternity 
and equality of men who have virtuous aims," 
said Pierre, feeling ashamed of the inadequacy 
of his words for the solemnity of the moment, 
as he spoke. "I imagine * . ." 

"Good!" said the Rhetor quickly, apparent- 
ly satisfied with this answer. "Have you sought 
for means of attaining your aim in religion?" 



2OO 

"No, I considered it erroneous and did not 
follow it," said Pierre, so softly that the Rhetor 
did not hear him and asked him what he was 
saying. "I have been an atheist," answered 
Pierre. 

"You are seeking for truth in order to follow 
its laws in your life, therefore you seek wisdom 
and virtue. Is that not so?" said the Rhetor, 
after a moment's pause. 

"Yes, yes," assented Pierre. 

The Rhetor cleared his throat, crossed his 
gloved hands on his breast, and began to speak. 

"Now I must disclose to you the chief aim of 
our Order," he said, "and if this aim coincides 
with yours, you may enter our Brotherhood 
with profit. The first and chief object of our 
Order, the foundation on which it rests and 
which no human power can destroy, is the pres- 
ervation and handing on to posterity of a cer- 
tain important mystery . . . which has come 
down to us from the remotest ages, even from 
the first man a mystery on which perhaps the 
fate of mankind depends. But since this mys- 
tery is of such a nature that nobody can know 
or use it unless he be prepared by long and dil- 
igent self-purification, not everyone can hope 
to attain itquickly. Hencewe have a secondary 
aim, that of preparing our members as much as 
possible to reform their hearts, to purify and 
enlighten their minds, by means handed on to 
us by tradition from those who have striven to 
attain this mystery, and thereby to render them 
capable of receiving it. 

"By purifyingand regeneratingour members 
we try, thirdly, to improve the whole human 
race, offering it in our members an example of 
piety and virtue, and thereby try with all our 
might to combat theevil which sways the world. 
Think this over and I will come to you again." 

"To combat the evil which sways the world 
. . ." Pierre repeated, and a mental image of his 
future activity in this direction rose in his 
mind. He imagined men such as he had himself 
been a fortnight ago, and he addressed an edify- 
ing exhortation to them. He imagined to him- 
self vicious and unfortunate people whom he 
would assist by word and deed, imagined op- 
pressors whose victims he would rescue. Of the 
three objects mentioned by the Rhetor, this 
last, that of improving mankind, especially ap- 
pealed to Pierre. The important mystery men- 
tioned by the Rhetor, though it aroused his cu- 
riosity, did not seem to him essential, and the 
second aim, that of purifying and regenerating 
himself, did not much interest him because at 
that moment he felt with delight that he was 



WAR AND PEACE 



already perfectly cured of his former faults and 
was ready for all that was good. 

Half an hour later, the Rhetor returned to 
inform the seeker of the seven virtues, corre- 
sponding to the seven steps of Solomon's tem- 
ple, which every Freemason should cultivate in 
himself. These virtues were: i. Discretion, the 
keeping of the secrets of the Order. 2. Obedi- 
ence to those of higher ranks in the Order. 
3. Morality. 4. Love of mankind. 5. Courage. 
6. Generosity. 7. The love of death. 

"In the seventh place, try, by the frequent 
thought of death," the Rhetor said, "to bring 
yourself to regard it not as a dreaded foe, but 
as a friend that frees the soul grown weary in 
the labors of virtue from this distressful life, 
and leads it to its place of recompense and 
peace." 

"Yes, that must be so," thought Pierre, when 
after these words the Rhetor went away, leav- 
ing him to solitary meditation. "It must be so, 
but I am still so weak that I love my life, the 
meaning of which is only now gradually open- 
ing before me." But five of the other virtues 
which Pierre recalled, counting them on his 
fingers, he felt already in his soul: courage, 
generosity, morality, love of mankind, and es- 
pecially obedience which did not even seem to 
him a virtue, but a joy. (He now felt so glad to 
be free from his own lawlessness and to sub- 
mit his will to those who knew the indubitable 
truth.) He forgot what the seventh virtue was 
and could not recall it. 

The third time the Rhetor came back more 
quickly and asked Pierre whether he was still 
firm in his intention and determined to sub- 
mit to all that would be required of him. 

"I am ready for everything," said Pierre. 

"I must also inform you," said the Rhetor, 
"that our Order delivers its teaching not in 
words only but also by other means, which may 
perhaps have a stronger effect on the sincere 
seeker after wisdom and virtue than mere 
words. This chamberwith what yousee therein 
should already have suggested to your heart, 
if it is sincere, more than words could do. You 
will perhaps also see in your further initiation 
a like method of enlightenment. Our Order 
imitates the ancient societies that explained 
their teaching by hieroglyphics. A hieroglyph," 
said the Rhetor, "is an emblem of something 
not cognizable by the senses but which possess- 
es qualities resembling those of the symbol." 

Pierre knew very well what a hieroglyph 
was, but dared not speak. He listened to the 
Rhetor in silence, feeling from all he said that 



BOOK FIVE 



his ordeal was about to begin. 

"If you are resolved, I must begin your ini- 
tiation/ 1 said the Rhetor coming closer to 
Pierre. "In token of generosity I ask you to 
give me all your valuables." 

"But I have nothing here," replied Pierre, 
supposing that he was asked to give up all he 
possessed. 

"What you have with you: watch, money, 
rings. . . ." 

Pierre quickly took out his purse and watch, 
but could not manage for some time to get the 
wedding ring off his fat finger. When that had 
been done, the Rhetor said: 

"In token of obedience, I ask you to undress." 

Pierre took off his coat, waistcoat, and left 
boot according to the Rhetor's instructions. 
The Mason drew the shirt back from Pierre's 
left breast, and stooping down pulled up the 
left leg of his trousers to above the knee. 
Pierre hurriedly began taking off his right 
boot also and was going to tuck up the other 
trouser leg to save this stranger the trouble, 
but the Mason told him that was not neces- 
sary and gave him a slipper for his left foot. 
With a childlike smile of embarrassment, 
doubt, and self-derision, which appeared on 
his face against his will, Pierre stood with his 
arms hanging down and legs apart, before 
his brother Rhetor, and awaited his further 
commands. 

"And now, in token of candor, I ask you to 
reveal to me your chief passion," said the lat- 
ter. 

"My passion! I have had so many," replied 
Pierre. 

"That passion which more than all others 
caused you to waver on the path of virtue," 
said the Mason. 

Pierre paused, seeking a reply. 

"Wine? Gluttony? Idleness? Laziness? Irri- 
tability? Anger? Women?" He went over his 
vices in his mind, not knowing to which of 
them to give the pre-eminence. 

"Women," he said in a low, scarcely audible 
voice. 

The Mason did not move and for a long 
time said nothing after this answer. At last he 
moved up to Pierre and, taking the kerchief 
that lay on the table, again bound his eyes. 

"For the last time I say to you turn all your 
attention upon yourself, put a bridle on your 
senses, and seek blessedness, not in passion but 
in your own heart. The source of blessedness 
is not without us but within. . . ." 

Pierre had already long been feeling in him- 



201 

self that refreshing source of blessedness which 
now flooded his heart with glad emotion. 

CHAPTER IV 

SOON AFTER THIS there came into the dark cham- 
ber to fetch Pierre, not the Rhetor but Pierre's 
sponsor, Willarski, whom he recognized by his 
voice. To fresh questions as to the firmness of 
his resolution Pierre replied: "Yes, yes, I agree," 
and with a beaming, childlike smile, his fat 
chest uncovered, stepping unevenly and timid- 
ly in one slippered and one booted foot, he ad- 
vanced, while Willarski held a sword to his 
bare chest. He was conducted from that room 
along passages that turned backwards and for- 
wards and was at last brought to the doors of 
the Lodge. Willarski coughed, he was answered 
by the Masonic knock with mallets, the doors 
opened before them. A bass voice (Pierre was 
still blindfold) questioned him as to who he 
was, when and where he was born, and so on. 
Then he was again led somewhere still blind- 
fold, and as they went along he was told alle- 
gories of the toils of his pilgrimage, of holy 
friendship, of the Eternal Architect of the uni- 
verse, and of the courage with which he should 
endure toils and dangers. During these wander- 
ings, Pierre noticed that he was spoken of now 
as the "Seeker," now as the "Sufferer," and now 
as the "Postulant," to the accompaniment of 
various knockings with mallets and swords. As 
he was being led up to some object he noticed 
a hesitation and uncertainty among his con- 
ductors. He heard those around him disput- 
ing in whispers and one of them insisting that 
he should be led along a certain carpet. After 
that they took his right hand, placed it on 
something, and told him to hold a pair of com- 
passes to his left breast with the other hand and 
to repeat after someone who read aloud an oath 
of fidelity to the laws of the Order. The candles 
were then extinguished and some spirit lighted, 
as Pierre knew by the smell, and he was told 
that he would now see the lesser light. The 
bandage was taken off his eyes and, by the faint 
light of the burning spirit, Pierre, as in a dream, 
saw several men standing before him, wearing 
aprons like the Rhetor's and holding swords in 
their hands pointed at his breast. Among them 
stood a man whose white shirt was stained with 
blood. On seeing this, Pierre moved forward 
with his breast toward the swords, meaning 
them to pierce it. But the swords were drawn 
back from him and he was at once blindfold- 
ed again. 
"Now thou hast seen the lesser light," ut- 



202 

tered a voice. Then the candles were relit and 
he was told that he would see the full light; the 
bandage was again removed and more than 
ten voices said together: "Sic transit gloria mun- 
di." 

Pierre gradually began to recover himself 
and looked about at the room and at the peo- 
ple in it. Round a long table covered with 
black sat some twelve men in garments like 
those he had already seen. Some of them 
Pierre had met in Petersburg society. In the 
President's chair sat a young man he did not 
know, with a peculiar cross hanging from his 
neck. On his right sat the Italian abb whom 
Pierre had met at Anna Pavlovna's two years 
before. There were also present a very distin- 
guished dignitary and a Swiss who had former- 
ly been tutor at the Kuragins'. All maintained 
a solemn silence, listening to the words of the 
President, who held a mallet in his hand. Let 
into the wall was a star-shaped light. At one 
side of the table was a small carpet with var- 
ious figures worked upon it, at the other was 
something resembling an altar on which lay 
a Testament and a skull. Round it stood seven 
large candlesticks like those used in churches. 
Two of the brothers led Pierre up to the altar, 
placed his feet at right angles, and bade him lie 
down, saying that he must prostrate himself 
at the Gates of the Temple. 

"He must first receive the trowel," whispered 
one of the brothers. 

"Oh, hush, please!" said another. 

Pierre, perplexed, looked round with his 
shortsighted eyes without obeying, and sud- 
denly doubts arose in his mind. "Where am I? 
What am I doing? Aren't they laughing at me? 
Shan't I be ashamed to remember this?" But 
these doubts only lasted a moment. Pierre 
glanced at the serious faces of those around, re- 
membered all he had already gone through, 
and realized that he could not stop halfway. 
He was aghast at his hesitation and, trying to 
arouse his former devotional feeling, prostrat- 
ed himself before the Gates of the Temple. 
And really, the feeling of devotion returned to 
him even more strongly than before. When he 
had lain there some time, he was told to get up, 
and a white leather apron, such as the others 
wore, was put on him: he was given a trowel 
and three pairs of gloves, and then the Grand 
Master addressed him. He told him that he 
should try to do nothing to stain the whiteness 
of that apron, which symbolized strength and 
purity; then of the unexplained trowel, he 
told him to toil with it to cleanse his own heart 



WAR AND PEACE 



from vice, and indulgently to smooth with it 
the heart of his neighbor. As to the first pair of 
gloves, a man's, he said that Pierre could not 
know their meaning but must keep them. The 
second pair of man's gloves he was to wear at 
the meetings, and finally of the third, a pair of 
women's gloves, he said: "Dear brother, these 
woman's gloves are intended for you too. Give 
them to the woman whom you shall honor 
most of all. This gift will be a pledge of your 
purity of heart to her whom you select to be your 
worthy helpmeet in Masonry." And after a 
pause, he added: "But beware, dear brother, 
that these gloves do not deck hands that are 
unclean." While the Grand Master said these 
last words it seemed to Pierre that he grew em- 
barrassed. Pierre himself grew still more con- 
fused, blushed like a child till tears came to 
his eyes, began looking about him uneasily, 
and an awkward pause followed. 

This silence was broken by one of the breth- 
ren, who led Pierre up to the rug and began 
reading to him from a manuscript book an ex- 
planation of all the figures on it: the sun, the 
moon, a hammer, a plumb line, a trowel, a 
rough stone and a squared stone, a pillar, three 
windows, and so on. Then a place was assigned 
to Pierre, he was shown the signs of the Lodge, 
told the password, and at last was permitted to 
sit down. The Grand Master began reading the 
statutes. They were very long, and Pierre, from 
joy, agitation, and embarrassment, was not in 
a state to understand what was being read. He 
managed to follow only the last words of the 
statutes and these remained in his mind. 

"In our temples we recognize no other dis- 
tinctions," read the Grand Master, "but those 
between virtue and vice. Beware of making any 
distinctions which may infringe equality. Fly 
to a brother's aid whoever he may be, exhort 
him who goeth astray, raise him that falleth, 
never bear malice or enmity toward thy broth- 
er. Be kindly and courteous. Kindle in all 
hearts the flame of virtue. Share thy happiness 
with thy neighbor, and may envy never dim the 
purity of that bliss. Forgive thy enemy, do not 
avenge thyself except by doing him good. Thus 
fulfilling the highest law thou shalt regain 
traces of the ancient dignity which thou hast 
lost." 

He finished and, getting up, embraced and 
kissed Pierre, who, with tears of joy in his eyes, 
looked round him, not knowing how to answer 
the congratulations and greetings from ac- 
quaintances that met him on all sides. He ac- 
knowledged no acquaintances but saw in all 



BOOK FIVE 



203 



these men only brothers, and burned with im- 
patience to set to work with them. 

The Grand Master rapped with his mallet. 
All the Masons sat down in their places, and 
one of them read an exhortation on the neces- 
sity of humility. 

The Grand Master proposed that the last du- 
ty should be performed, and the distinguished 
dignitary who bore the title of "Collector of 
Alms" went round to all the brothers. Pierre 
would have liked to subscribe all he had, but 
fearing that it might look like pride subscribed 
the same amount as the others. 

The meeting was at an end, and on reaching 
home Pierre felt as if he had returned from a 
long journey on which he had spent dozens of 
years, had become completely changed, and 
had quite left behind his former habits and 
way of life. 

CHAPTERV 

THE DAY AFTER he had been received into the 
Lodge, Pierre was sitting at home reading a 
book and trying to fathom the significance of 
the Square, one side of which symbolized God, 
another moral things, a third physical things, 
and the fourth a combination of these. Now 
and then his attention wandered from the book 
and the Square and he formed in imagination 
a new plan of life. On the previous evening at 
the Lodge, he had heard that a rumor of his 
duel had reached the Emperor and that it 
would be wiser for him to leave Petersburg. 
Pierre proposed going to his estates in the 
south and there attending to the welfare of his 
serfs. He was joyfully planning this new life, 
when Prince Vasili suddenly entered the room. 

"My dear fellow, what have you been up to 
in Moscow? Why have you quarreled with 
Hlne, mon cherf You are under a delusion," 
said Prince Vasili, as he entered. "I know all 
about it, and I can tell you positively that He*- 
lene is as innocent before you as Christ was be- 
fore the Jews." 

Pierre was about to reply, but Prince Vasili 
interrupted him. 

"And why didn't you simply come straight to 
me as to a friend? I know all about it and un- 
derstand it all," he said. "You behaved as be- 
comes a man who values his honor, perhaps too 
hastily, but we won't go into that. But consid- 
er the position in which you are placing her 
and me in the eyes of society, and even of the 
court," he added, lowering his voice. "She is 
living in Moscow and you are here. Remember, 
dear boy," and he drew Pierre's arm down- 



wards, "it is simply a misunderstanding. I ex- 
pect you feel it so yourself. Let us write her a 
letter at once, and she'll come here and all 
will be explained, or else, my dear boy, let me 
tell you it's quite likely you'll have to suffer 
for it." 

Prince Vasili gave Pierre a significant look. 

"I know from reliable sources that the Dow- 
ager Empress is taking a keen interest in the 
whole affair. You know she is very gracious to 



Pierre tried several times to speak, but, on 
one hand, Prince Vasfli did not let him and, on 
the other, Pierre himself feared to begin to 
speak in the tone of decided refusal and dis- 
agreement in which he had firmly resolved to 
answer his father-in-law. Moreover, the words 
of the Masonic statutes, "be kindly and courte- 
ous," recurred to him. He blinked, went red, 
got up and sat down again, struggling with 
himself to do what was for him the most diffi- 
cult thing in lifeto say an unpleasant thing 
to a man's face, to say what the other, whoever 
he might be, did not expect. He was so used to 
submitting to Prince Vasili's tone of careless 
self-assurance that he felt he would be unable 
to withstand it now, but he also felt that on 
what he said now his future depended wheth- 
er he would follow the same old road, or that 
new path so attractively shown him by the Ma- 
sons, on which he firmly believed he would be 
reborn to a new life. 

"Now, dear boy," said Prince Vasili playful- 
ly, "say 'yes,' and I'll write to her myself, and 
we will kill the fatted calf." 

But before Prince Vasili had finished his 
playful speech, Pierre, without looking at him, 
and with a kind of fury that made him like his 
father, muttered in a whisper: 

"Prince, I did not ask you here. Go, please 
gol" And he jumped up and opened the door 
for him. 

"Gol" he repeated, amazed at himself and 
glad to see the look of confusion and fear that 
showed itself on Prince Vasili's face. 

"What's the matter with you? Are you ill?" 

"Gol" the quivering voice repeated. And 
Prince Vasili had to go without receiving any 
explanation. 

A week later, Pierre, having taken leave of 
his new friends, the Masons, and leaving large 
sums of money with them for alms, went away 
to his estates. His new brethren gave him let- 
ters to the Kiev and Odessa Masons and prom- 
ised to write to him and guide him in his new 
activity. 



204 



WAR AND PEACE 



CHAPTER VI 

THE DUEL between Pierre and D61okhov was 
hushed up and, in spite of the Emperor's se- 
verity regarding duels at that time, neither the 
principals nor their seconds suffered for it. 
But the story of the duel, confirmed by Pierre's 
rupture with his wife, was the talk of society. 
Pierre who had been regarded with patroniz- 
ing condescension when he was an illegitimate 
son, and petted and extolled when he was the 
best match in Russia, had sunk greatly in the 
esteem of society after his marriage when the 
marriageable daughters and their mothers had 
nothing to hope from himespecially as he did 
not know how, and did not wish, to court so- 
ciety's favor. Now he alone was blamed for 
what had happened, he was said to be insanely 
jealous and subject like his father to fits of 
bloodthirsty rage. And when after Pierre's de- 
parture Hlene returned to Petersburg, she 
was received by all her acquaintances not only 
cordially, but even with a shade of deference 
due to her misfortune. When conversation 
turned on her husband Hlene assumed a dig- 
nified expression, which with characteristic 
tact she had acquired though she did not un- 
derstand its significance. This expression sug- 
gested that she had resolved to endure her 
troubles uncomplainingly and that her hus- 
band was a cross laid upon her by God. Prince 
Vasfli expressed his opinion more openly. He 
shrugged his shoulders when Pierre was men- 
tioned and, pointing to his forehead, remarked: 
"A bit touched I always said so." 
"I said from the first," declared Anna Pav- 
lovna referring to Pierre, "I said at the time 
and before anyone else" (she insisted on her 
priority) "that that senseless young man was 
spoiled by the depraved ideas of these days. I 
said so even at the time when everybody was 
in raptures about him, when he had just re- 
turned from abroad, and when, if you remem- 
ber, he posed as a sort of Marat at one of my 
soirees. And how has it ended? I was against 
this marriage even then and foretold all that 
has happened." 

Anna Pavlovna continued to give on free eve- 
nings the same kind of soirees as before such 
as she alone had the gift of arranging at which 
was to be found "the cream of really good so- 
ciety, the bloom of the intellectual essence of 
Petersburg," as she herself put it. Besides this 
refined selection of society Anna Pdvlovna's 
receptions were also distinguished by the fact 
that she always presented some new and inter- 
esting person to the visitors and that nowhere 



else was the state of the political thermometer 
of legitimate Petersburg court society so clear- 
ly and distinctly indicated. 

Toward the end of 1806, when all the sad 
details of Napoleon's destruction of the Prus- 
sian army at Jena and Auerstadt and the sur- 
render of most of the Prussian fortresses had 
been received, when our troops had already 
entered Prussia and our second war with Na- 
poleon was beginning, Anna Pavlovna gave one 
of her soirees. The "cream of really good soci- 
ety" consisted of the fascinating Hlne, for- 
saken by her husband, Mortemart, the delight- 
ful Prince Hippolyte who had just returned 
from Vienna, two diplomatists, the old aunt, a 
young man referred to in that drawing room as 
"a man of great merit" (un homme de beau- 
coup de mMte), a newly appointed maid of 
honor and her mother, and several other less 
noteworthy persons. 

The novelty Anna Pdvlovna was setting be- 
fore her guests that evening was Boris Drubet- 
sk6y, who had just arrived as a special mes- 
senger from the Prussian army and was aide- 
de-camp to a very important personage. 

The temperature shown by the political 
thermometer to the company that evening was 
this: 

"Whatever the European sovereigns and com- 
manders may do to countenance Bonaparte, 
and to cause me y and us in general, annoyance 
and mortification, our opinion of Bonaparte 
cannot alter. We shall not cease to express our 
sincere views on that subject, and can only say 
to the Kingof Prussia and others: 'So much the 
worse for you. Tu Vas voulu, George Dandin,' l 
that's all we have to say about it!" 

When Boris, who was to be served up to the 
guests, entered the drawing room, almost all 
the company had assembled, and the conversa- 
tion, guided by Anna Pdvlovna, was about our 
diplomatic relations with Austria and the hope 
of an alliance with her. 

Boris, grown more manly and looking fresh, 
rosy and self-possessed, entered the drawing 
room elegantly dressed in the uniform of an 
aide-de-camp and was duly conducted to pay 
his respects to the aunt and then brought back 
to the general circle. 

Anna Pavlovna gave him her shriveled hand 
to kiss and introduced him to several persons 
whom he did not know, giving him a whispered 
description of each. 

"Prince Hippolyte Kurdgin charming 

1 "You would have it so." George Dandin is a 
comedy by Moli&re. TR, 



BOOK FIVE 



205 



young fellow; M. Kronqcharg d'affaires from 
Copenhagen a profound intellect/' and sim- 
ply, "Mr. Shftov a man of great merit" this 
of the man usually so described. 

Thanks to Anna Mikhdylovna's efforts, his 
own tastes, and the peculiarities of his reserved 
nature, Boris had managed during his service 
to place himself very advantageously. He was 
aide-de-camp to a very important personage, 
had been sent on a very important mission to 
Prussia, and had just returned from there as a 
special messenger. He had become thoroughly 
conversant with that unwritten code with which 
he had been so pleased at Olmutz and accord- 
ing to which an ensign might rank incompa- 
rably higher than a general, and according to 
which what was needed for success in the serv- 
- ice was not effort or work, or courage, or perse- 
verance, but only the knowledge of how to get 
on with those who can grant rewards, and he 
was himself often surprised at the rapidity of 
his success and at the inability of others* to un- 
derstand these things. In consequence of this 
discovery his whole manner of life, all his re- 
lations with old friends, all his plans for his 
future, were completely altered. He was not 
rich, but would spend his last groat to be bet- 
ter dressed than others, and would rather de- 
prive himself of many pleasures than allow 
himself to be seen in a shabby equipage or ap- 
pear in the streets of Petersburg in an old uni- 
form. He made friends with and sought the ac- 
quaintance of only those above him in posi- 
tion and who could therefore be of use to him. 
He liked Petersburg and despised Moscow. 
The remembrance of the Rostovs' house and 
of his childish love for Natasha was unpleasant 
to him and he had not once been to see the 
Rost6vs since the day of his departure for the 
army. To be in Anna Pavlovna's drawing room 
he considered an important step up in the serv- 
ice, and he at once understood his role, letting 
his hostess make use of whatever interest he 
had to offer. He himself carefully scanned each 
face, appraising the possibilities of establish- 
ing intimacy with each of those present, and 
the advantages that might accrue. He took the 
seat indicated to him beside the fair He"lene 
and listened to the general conversation. 

"Vienna considers the bases of the proposed 
treaty so unattainable that not even a continu- 
ity of most brilliant successes would secure 
them, and she doubts the means we have of 
gaining them. That is the actual phrase used 
by the Vienna cabinet/' said the Danish charge* 
d'affaires. 



"The doubt is flattering/' said "the man of 
profound intellect/' with a subtle smile. 

"We must distinguish between the Vienna 
cabinet and the Emperor of Austria/' said 
Mortemart. "The Emperor of Austria can nev- 
er have thought of such a thing, it is only the 
cabinet that says it." 

"Ah, my dear vicomte," put in Anna Pdvlov- 
na, "L'Urope" (for some reason she called it 
Urope as if that were a specially refined French 
pronunciation which she could allow herself 
when con versing with a Frenchman), "L'Urope 
ne sera jamais noire allide sincere." l 

After that Anna Pavlovna led up to the 
courage and firmness of the King of Prussia, in 
order to draw Boris into the conversation. 

Boris listened attentively to each of the 
speakers, awaitinghis turn, but managed mean- 
while to look round repeatedly at his neigh" 
bor, the beautiful He4ene, whose eyes severa* 
times met those of the handsome young aide 
de-camp with a smile. "> 

Speaking of the position of Prussia, Ann' 
Pdvlovna very naturally asked Boris to te v 
them about his journey to Glogau and in wha 1 
state he found the Prussian army. Boris, speak- 
ing with deliberation, told them in pure, cor- 
rect French many interesting details about 
the armies and the court, carefully abstaining 
from expressing an opinion of his own about 
the facts he was recounting. For some time 
he engrossed the general attention, and 
Anna Pdvlovna felt that the novelty she 
had served up was received with pleasure by 
all her visitors. The greatest attention of 
all to Boris* narrative was shown by Hlne. 
She asked him several questions about his 
journey and seemed greatly interested in 
the state of the Prussian army. As soon as he 
had finished she turned to him with her usual 
smile. 

"You absolutely must come and see me," she 
said in a tone that implied that, for certain con- 
siderations he could not know of, this was ab- 
solutely necessary. 

"On Tuesday between eight and nine. It 
will give me great pleasure." 

Boris promised to fulfill her wish and was 
about to begin a conversation with her, when 
Anna PAvlovna called him away on the pretext 
that her aunt wished to hear him. 

"You know her husband, of course?" said 
Anna Pdvlovna, dosing her eyes and indicat- 
ing Hdene with a sorrowful gesture. "Ah, she 
is such an unfortunate and channing woman ! 

1 "Europe will never be our sincere ally." 



206 



WAR AND PEACE 



Don't mention him before her please don't I It 
is too painful for her!" 

CHAPTER VII 

WHEN BORIS and Anna Pdvlovna returned to 
the others Prince Hippolyte had the ear of the 
company. 

Bending forward in his armchair he said: 
"Le Roi de Prusse!" and having said this 
laughed. Everyone turned toward him. 

"Le Roi de Prusse?" Hippolyte said inter- 
rogatively, again laughing, and then calmly 
and seriously sat back in his chair. Anna Pdv- 
lovna waited for him to go on, but asheseemed 
quite decided to say no more she began to tell 
of how at Potsdam the impious Bonaparte had 
stolen the sword of Frederick the Great. 

"It is the sword of Frederick the Great which 

. . ." she began, but Hippolyte interrupted 
icr with the words: "Le Roi de Prusse . . ." and 
tgain,assoon as all turned toward him, excused 
timself and said no more. 

Anna Pdvlovna frowned. Mortemart, Hip- 
KByte's friend, addressed him firmly. 

"Come now, what about your R oide Prusse?" 

Hippolyte laughed as if ashamed of laugh- 
ing. 

"Oh, it's nothing. I only wished to say . . ." 
(he wanted to repeat a joke he had heard in 
Vienna and which he had been trying all that 
evening to get in) "I only wished to say that 
we are wrong to fight pour le Roi de Prusse!" l 

Boris smiled circumspectly, so that it might 
be taken as ironical or appreciative according 
to the way the joke was received. Everybody 
laughed. 

"Your joke is too bad, it's witty but unjust," 
said Anna Pdvlovna, shaking her little shriveled 
finger at him. 

"We are not fighting pour le Roi de Prusse f 
but for right principles. Oh, that wicked Prince 
Hippolyte!" she said. 

The conversation did not flag all evening 
and turned chiefly on the political news. It be- 
came particularly animated toward the end of 
the evening when the rewards bestowed by the 
Emperor were mentioned. 

"You know N N received a snuffbox with 
the portrait last year?" said "the man of pro- 
found intellect." "Why shouldn't S- S- get 
the same distinction?" 

"Pardon me! A snuffbox with the Emperor's 
portrait is a reward but not a distinction," said 
the diplomatist "a gift, rather." 

14 Tor the King of Prussia" a phrase used in 
French to denote "for a trifle of no value." TR. 



"There are precedents, I may mention 
Schwarzenberg." 

"It's impossible," replied another. 

"Will you bet? The ribbon of the order is a 
different matter " 

When everybody rose to go, Hlne who 
had spoken very little all the evening again 
turned to Boris, asking him in a tone of caress- 
ing significant command to come to her on 
Tuesday. 

"It is of great importance to me," she said, 
turning with a smile toward Anna Pdvlovna, 
and Anna Pdvlovna, with the same sad smile 
with which she spoke of her exalted patroness, 
supported Hdtene's wish. 

It seemed as if from some words Boris had 
spoken that evening about the Prussian army, 
Hlne had suddenly found it necessary to see 
him. She seemed to promise to explain that ne- 
cessity to him when he came on Tuesday. 

But on Tuesday evening, having come to 
Hlrte's splendid salon, Boris received no clear 
explanation of why it had been necessary for 
him to come. There were other guests and the 
countess talked little to him, and only as he 
kissed her hand on taking leave said unexpect- 
edly and in a whisper, with a strangely unsmil- 
ing face: "Come to dinner tomorrow ... in the 
evening. You must come . . . Come!" 

During that stay in Petersburg, Boris became 
an intimate in the countess* house. 

CHAPTER VIII 

THE WAR was flaming up and nearing the Rus- 
sian frontier. Everywhere one heard curses on 
Bonaparte, "the enemy of mankind." Militia- 
men and recruits were being enrolled in the 
villages, and from the seat of war came contra- 
dictory news, false as usual and therefore vari- 
ously interpreted. The life of old Prince Bol- 
k6nski, Prince Andrew, and Princess Mary had 
greatly changed since 1805. 

In 1806 the old prince was made one of the 
eight commanders in chief then appointed to 
supervise the enrollment decreed throughout 
Russia. Despite the weakness of age, which had 
become particularly noticeable since the time 
when he thought his son had been killed, he 
did not think it right to refuse a duty to which 
he had been appointed by the Emperor him- 
self, and this fresh opportunity for action gave 
him new energy and strength. He was continu- 
ally traveling through the three provinces en- 
trusted to him, was pedantic in the fulfillment 
of his duties, severe to cruelty with his subordi- 
nates, and went into everything down to the 



BOOK FIVE 



207 



minutest details himself. Princess Mary had 
ceased taking lessons in mathematics from her 
father, and when the old prince was at home 
went to his study with the wet nurse and little 
Prince Nicholas (as his grandfather called 
him). The baby Prince Nicholas lived with his 
wet nurse and nurse Sdvishna in the late prin- 
cess 1 rooms and Princess Mary spent most of 
the day in the nursery, taking a mother's place 
to her little nephew as best she could. Made- 
moiselle Bourienne, too, seemed passionately 
fond of the boy, and Princess Mary often de- 
prived herself to give her friend the pleasure 
of dandling the little angel as she called her 
nephew and playing with him. 

Near the altar of the church at Bald Hills 
there was a chapel over the tomb of the little 
princess, and in this chapel was a marble monu- 
ment brought from Italy, representingan angel 
with outspread wings ready to fly upwards. 
The angel's upper lip was slightly raised as 
though about to smile, and once on coming 
out of the chapel Prince Andrew and Princess 
Mary admitted to one another that the angel's 
face reminded them strangely of the little prin- 
cess. But what was still stranger, though of this 
Prince Andrew said nothing to his sister, was 
that in the expression the sculptor had hap- 
pened to give the angel's face, Prince Andrew 
read the same mild reproach he had read on 
the face of his dead wife: "Ah, why have you 
done this to me?" 

Soon after Prince Andrew's return the old 
prince made over to him a large estate, Bogu- 
chdrovo, about twenty-five miles from Bald 
Hills. Partly because of the depressing memo- 
ries associated with Bald Hills, partly because 
Prince Andrew did not always feel equal to 
bearing with his father's peculiarities, and part- 
ly because he needed solitude, Prince Andrew 
made use of Bogucharovo, began building and 
spent most of his time there. 

After the Austerlitz campaign Prince An- 
drew had firmly resolved not to continue his 
military service, and when the war recom- 
menced and everybody had to serve, he took a 
post under his father in the recruitment so as 
to avoid active service. The old prince and his 
son seemed to have changed roles since the 
campaign of 1805. The old man, roused by ac- 
tivity, expected the best results from the new 
campaign, while Prince Andrew on the con- 
trary, taking no part in the war and secretly 
regretting this, saw only the dark side. 

On February 26, 1807, the old prince set off 
on one of his circuits. Prince Andrew remained 



at Bald Hills as usual during his father's ab- 
sence. Little Nicholas had been unwell for 
four days. The coachman who had driven the 
old prince to town returned bringing papers 
and letters for Prince Andrew. 

Not finding the young prince in his study 
the valet went with the letters to Princess 
Mary's apartments, but did not find him there. 
He was told that the prince had gone to the 
nursery. 

"If you please, your excellency, Petriisha has 
brought some papers," said one of the nurse- 
maids to Prince Andrew who was sitting on a 
child's little chair while, frowning and with 
trembling hands, he poured drops from a medi- 
cine bottle into a wineglass half full of water. 

"What is it?" he said crossly, and, his hand 
shaking unintentionally, he poured too many 
drops into the glass. He threw the mixture on- 
to the floor and asked for some more water. 
The maid brought it. 

There were in the room a child's cot, two 
boxes, two armchairs, a table, a child's table, 
and the little chair on which Prince Andrew 
was sitting. The curtains were drawn, and a 
single candle was burningon the table, screened 
by a bound music book so that the light did not 
fall on the cot. 

"My dear," said Princess Mary, addressing 
her brother from beside the cot where she was 
standing, "better wait a bit ... later . . ." 

"Oh, leave off, you always talk nonsense and 
keep putting things off and this is what comes 
of itl" said Prince Andrew in an exasperated 
whisper, evidently meaning to wound his sis- 
ter. 

"My dear, really . . . it's better not to wake 
him . . . he's asleep," said the princess in a tone 
of entreaty. 

Prince Andrew got up and went on tiptoe 
up to the little bed, wineglass in hand. 

"Perhaps we'd really better not wake him," 
he said hesitating. 

"As you please . . . really ... I think so ... 
but as you please," said Princess Mary, evident- 
ly intimidated and confused that her opinion 
had prevailed. She drew her brother's atten- 
tion to the maid who was calling him in a whis- 
per. 

It was the second night that neither of them 
had slept, watching the boy who was in a high 
fever. These last days, mistrusting their house- 
hold doctor and expecting another for whom 
they had sent to town, they had been trying 
first one remedy and then another. Worn out 
by sleeplessness and anxiety they threw their 



208 



WAR AND PEACE 



burden of sorrow on one another, and re- 
proached and disputed with each other. 

"Petriisha has come with papers from your 
father," whispered the maid. 

Prince Andrew went out. 

"Devil take them!" he muttered, and after 
listening to the verbal instructions his father 
had sent and taking the correspondence and 
his father's letter, he returned to the nursery. 

"Well?" he asked. 

"Still the same. Wait, for heaven's sake. Karl 
Ivnich always says that sleep is more impor- 
tant than anything," whispered Princess Mary 
with a sigh. 

Prince Andrew went up to the child and felt 
him. He was burning hot. 

"Confound you and your Karl Ivdnich!" He 
took the glass with the drops and again went 
up to the cot. 

"Andrew, don't!" said Princess Mary. 

But he scowled at her angrily though also 
with suffering in his eyes, and stooped glass in 
hand over the infant. 

"But I wish it," he said. "I beg yougive it 
him!" 

Princess Mary shrugged her shoulders but 
took the glass submissively and calling the 
nurse began giving the medicine. The child 
screamed hoarsely. Prince Andrew winced and, 
clutching his head, went out and sat down on 
a sofa in the next room. 

He still had all the letters in his hand. Open- 
ing them mechanically he began reading. The 
old prince, now and then using abbreviations, 
wrote in his large elongated hand on blue pa- 
per as follows : 

Have just this moment received by special mes- 
senger very joyful newsif it's not false. Bennig- 
sen seems to have obtained a complete victory over 
Buonaparte at Eyiau. In Petersburg everyone is 
rejoicing, and the rewards sent to the army are 
innumerable. Though he is a German I congrat- 
ulate him! I can't make out what the commander 
at K6rchevo a certain Khandrik6v is up to; till 
now the additional men and provisions have not 
arrived. Gallop off to him at once and say I'll have 
his head off if everything is not here in a week. 
Have received another letter about the Preussisch- 
Eylau battle from P&enka he took part in it 
and it's all true. When mischief-makers don't med- 
dle even a German beats Buonaparte. He is said to 
be fleeing in great disorder. Mind you gallop off to 
K6rchevo without delay and carry out instruc- 
tions! 

Prince Andrew sighed and broke the seal of 
another envelope. It was a closely written let- 
ter of two sheets from Bilibin. He folded it up 



without reading it and reread his father's let- 
ter, ending with the words: "Gallop off to K6r- 
chevo and carry out instructions!" 

"No, pardon me, I won't go now till the 
child is better," thought he, going to the door 
and looking into the