War and Peace
part the bets!’ This was Dolokhov, an officer of the Semenov
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part the bets!’ This was Dolokhov, an officer of the Semenov regiment, a notorious gambler and duelist, who was living with Anatole. Pierre smiled, looking about him merrily. ‘I don’t understand. What’s it all about?’ ‘Wait a bit, he is not drunk yet! A bottle here,’ said Ana- tole, taking a glass from the table he went up to Pierre. ‘First of all you must drink!’ Pierre drank one glass after another, looking from under his brows at the tipsy guests who were again crowding round the window, and listening to their chatter. Anatole kept on refilling Pierre’s glass while explaining that Dolokhov was betting with Stevens, an English naval officer, that he would drink a bottle of rum sitting on the outer ledge of the third floor window with his legs hanging out. ‘Go on, you must drink it all,’ said Anatole, giving Pierre the last glass, ‘or I won’t let you go!’ ‘No, I won’t,’ said Pierre, pushing Anatole aside, and he went up to the window. Dolokhov was holding the Englishman’s hand and clear- ly and distinctly repeating the terms of the bet, addressing himself particularly to Anatole and Pierre. Dolokhov was of medium height, with curly hair and light-blue eyes. He was about twenty-five. Like all infantry officers he wore no mustache, so that his mouth, the most striking feature of his face, was clearly seen. The lines of that mouth were remarkably finely curved. The middle of the up- per lip formed a sharp wedge and closed firmly on the firm War and Peace 56 lower one, and something like two distinct smiles played con- tinually round the two corners of the mouth; this, together with the resolute, insolent intelligence of his eyes, produced an effect which made it impossible not to notice his face. Do- lokhov was a man of small means and no connections. Yet, though Anatole spent tens of thousands of rubles, Dolokhov lived with him and had placed himself on such a footing that all who knew them, including Anatole himself, respected him more than they did Anatole. Dolokhov could play all games and nearly always won. However much he drank, he never lost his clearheadedness. Both Kuragin and Dolokhov were at that time notorious among the rakes and scapegrac- es of Petersburg. The bottle of rum was brought. The window frame which prevented anyone from sitting on the outer sill was being forced out by two footmen, who were evidently flurried and intimidated by the directions and shouts of the gentlemen around. Anatole with his swaggering air strode up to the window. He wanted to smash something. Pushing away the footmen he tugged at the frame, but could not move it. He smashed a pane. ‘You have a try, Hercules,’ said he, turning to Pierre. Pierre seized the crossbeam, tugged, and wrenched the oak frame out with a crash. ‘Take it right out, or they’ll think I’m holding on,’ said Dolokhov. ‘Is the Englishman bragging?... Eh? Is it all right?’ said Anatole. 57 Free eBooks at Planet eBook.com ‘First-rate,’ said Pierre, looking at Dolokhov, who with a bottle of rum in his hand was approaching the window, from which the light of the sky, the dawn merging with the after- glow of sunset, was visible. Dolokhov, the bottle of rum still in his hand, jumped onto the window sill. ‘Listen!’ cried he, standing there and addressing those in the room. All were silent. ‘I bet fifty imperials’he spoke French that the Englishman might understand him, but he did, not speak it very well‘I bet fifty imperials... or do you wish to make it a hundred?’ added he, addressing the Englishman. ‘No, fifty,’ replied the latter. ‘All right. Fifty imperials... that I will drink a whole bottle of rum without taking it from my mouth, sitting outside the window on this spot’ (he stooped and pointed to the sloping ledge outside the window) ‘and without holding on to any- thing. Is that right?’ ‘Quite right,’ said the Englishman. Anatole turned to the Englishman and taking him by one of the buttons of his coat and looking down at himthe Eng- lishman was shortbegan repeating the terms of the wager to him in English. ‘Wait!’ cried Dolokhov, hammering with the bottle on the window sill to attract attention. ‘Wait a bit, Kuragin. Lis- ten! If anyone else does the same, I will pay him a hundred imperials. Do you understand?’ The Englishman nodded, but gave no indication whether he intended to accept this challenge or not. Anatole did not release him, and though he kept nodding to show that he War and Peace 58 understood, Anatole went on translating Dolokhov’s words into English. A thin young lad, an hussar of the Life Guards, who had been losing that evening, climbed on the window sill, leaned over, and looked down. ‘Oh! Oh! Oh!’ he muttered, looking down from the win- dow at the stones of the pavement. ‘Shut up!’ cried Dolokhov, pushing him away from the window. The lad jumped awkwardly back into the room, tripping over his spurs. Placing the bottle on the window sill where he could reach it easily, Dolokhov climbed carefully and slowly through the window and lowered his legs. Pressing against both sides of the window, he adjusted himself on his seat, lowered his hands, moved a little to the right and then to the left, and took up the bottle. Anatole brought two candles and placed them on the window sill, though it was already quite light. Dolokhov’s back in his white shirt, and his curly head, were lit up from both sides. Everyone crowded to the window, the Englishman in front. Pierre stood smiling but silent. One man, older than the others present, suddenly pushed for- ward with a scared and angry look and wanted to seize hold of Dolokhov’s shirt. ‘I say, this is folly! He’ll be killed,’ said this more sensible man. Anatole stopped him. ‘Don’t touch him! You’ll startle him and then he’ll be killed. Eh?... What then?... Eh?’ Dolokhov turned round and, again holding on with both hands, arranged himself on his seat. 59 Free eBooks at Planet eBook.com ‘If anyone comes meddling again,’ said he, emitting the words separately through his thin compressed lips, ‘I will throw him down there. Now then!’ Saying this he again turned round, dropped his hands, took the bottle and lifted it to his lips, threw back his head, and raised his free hand to balance himself. One of the foot- men who had stooped to pick up some broken glass remained in that position without taking his eyes from the window and from Dolokhov’s back. Anatole stood erect with star- ing 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 col- lar, and the hand holding the bottle was lifted higher and higher and trembled with the effort. The bottle was empty- ing perceptibly and rising still higher and his head tilting yet further back. ‘Why is it so long?’ thought Pierre. It seemed to him that more than half an hour had elapsed. Suddenly Dolokhov made a backward movement with his spine, and his arm trembled nervously; this was sufficient to cause his whole body to slip as he sat on the sloping ledge. As he began slipping down, his head and arm wavered still more with the strain. One hand moved as if to clutch the window sill, but refrained from touching it. Pierre again covered his eyes and thought he would never never them again. Suddenly he War and Peace 60 was aware of a stir all around. He looked up: Dolokhov was standing on the window sill, with a pale but radiant face. ‘It’s empty.’ He threw the bottle to the Englishman, who caught it neatly. Dolokhov jumped down. He smelt strongly of rum. ‘Well done!... Fine fellow!... There’s a bet for you!... Devil take you!’ came from different sides. The Englishman took out his purse and began counting out the money. Dolokhov stood frowning and did not speak. Pierre jumped upon the window sill. ‘Gentlemen, who wishes to bet with me? I’ll do the same thing!’ he suddenly cried. ‘Even without a bet, there! Tell them to bring me a bottle. I’ll do it.... Bring a bottle!’ ‘Let him do it, let him do it,’ said Dolokhov, smiling. ‘What next? Have you gone mad?... No one would let you!... Why, you go giddy even on a staircase,’ exclaimed several voices. ‘I’ll drink it! Let’s have a bottle of rum!’ shouted Pierre, banging the table with a determined and drunken gesture and preparing to climb out of the window. They seized him by his arms; but he was so strong that everyone who touched him was sent flying. ‘No, you’ll never manage him that way,’ said Anatole. ‘Wait a bit and I’ll get round him.... Listen! I’ll take your bet tomorrow, but now we are all going to -’s.’ ‘Come on then,’ cried Pierre. ‘Come on!... And we’ll take Bruin with us.’ And he caught the bear, took it in his arms, lifted it from the ground, and began dancing round the room with it. 61 Free eBooks at Planet eBook.com Chapter X Prince Vasili kept the promise he had given to Princess Drubetskaya who had spoken to him on behalf of her only son Boris on the evening of Anna Pavlovna’s soiree. The matter was mentioned to the Emperor, an exception made, and Boris transferred into the regiment of Semenov Guards with the rank of cornet. He received, however, no appoint- ment to Kutuzov’s staff despite all Anna Mikhaylovna’s endeavors and entreaties. Soon after Anna Pavlovna’s re- ception Anna Mikhaylovna returned to Moscow and went straight to her rich relations, the Rostovs, with whom she stayed when in the town and where and where her darling Bory, who had only just entered a regiment of the line and was being at once transferred to the Guards as a cornet, had been educated from childhood and lived for years at a time. The Guards had already left Petersburg on the tenth of Au- gust, and her son, who had remained in Moscow for his equipment, was to join them on the march to Radzivilov. It was St. Natalia’s day and the name day of two of the Rostovsthe mother and the youngest daughterboth named Nataly. Ever since the morning, carriages with six horses had been coming and going continually, bringing visitors to the Countess Rostova’s big house on the Povarskaya, so well known to all Moscow. The countess herself and her hand- some eldest daughter were in the drawing-room with the War and Peace 62 visitors who came to congratulate, and who constantly suc- ceeded one another in relays. The countess was a woman of about forty-five, with a thin Oriental type of face, evidently worn out with child- bearingshe had had twelve. A languor of motion and speech, resulting from weakness, gave her a distinguished air which inspired respect. Princess Anna Mikhaylovna Drubetskaya, who as a member of the household was also seated in the drawing room, helped to receive and entertain the visitors. The young people were in one of the inner rooms, not con- sidering it necessary to take part in receiving the visitors. The count met the guests and saw them off, inviting them all to dinner. ‘I am very, very grateful to you, mon cher,’ or ‘ma chere’he called everyone without exception and without the slightest variation in his tone, ‘my dear,’ whether they were above or below him in rank‘I thank you for myself and for our two dear ones whose name day we are keep- ing. But mind you come to dinner or I shall be offended, ma chere! On behalf of the whole family I beg you to come, mon cher!’ These words he repeated to everyone without ex- ception or variation, and with the same expression on his full, cheerful, clean-shaven face, the same firm pressure of the hand and the same quick, repeated bows. As soon as he had seen a visitor off he returned to one of those who were still in the drawing room, drew a chair toward him or her, and jauntily spreading out his legs and putting his hands on his knees with the air of a man who enjoys life and knows how to live, he swayed to and fro with dignity, 63 Free eBooks at Planet eBook.com 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 conser- vatory 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, mov- ing tables, and unfolding damask table linen, he would call Dmitri Vasilevich, a man of good family and the manager of all his affairs, and while looking with pleasure at the enor- mous 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 re- turn to the drawing room. ‘Marya Lvovna Karagina and her daughter!’ announced the countess’ gigantic footman in his bass voice, entering the drawing room. The countess reflected a moment and took a pinch from a gold snuffbox with her husband’s por- trait on it. ‘I’m quite worn out by these callers. However, I’ll see her and no more. She is so affected. Ask her in,’ she said to the footman in a sad voice, as if saying: ‘Very well, finish me off.’ A tall, stout, and proud-looking woman, with a round- faced smiling daughter, entered the drawing room, their dresses rustling. War and Peace 64 ‘Dear Countess, what an age... She has been laid up, poor child... at the Razumovski’s ball... and Countess Aprak- sina... I was so delighted...’ came the sounds of animated feminine voices, interrupting one another and mingling with the rustling of dresses and the scraping of chairs. Then one of those conversations began which last out until, at the first pause, the guests rise with a rustle of dresses and say, ‘I am so delighted... Mamma’s health... and Countess Aprak- sina... and then, again rustling, pass into the anteroom, put on cloaks or mantles, and drive away. The conversation was on the chief topic of the day: the illness of the wealthy and celebrated beau of Catherine’s day, Count Bezukhov, and about his illegitimate son Pierre, the one who had behaved so improperly at Anna Pavlovna’s reception. ‘I am so sorry for the poor count,’ said the visitor. ‘He is in such bad health, and now this vexation about his son is enough to kill him!’ ‘What is that?’ asked the countess as if she did not know what the visitor alluded to, though she had already heard about the cause of Count Bezukhov’s distress some fifteen times. ‘That’s what comes of a modern education,’ exclaimed the visitor. ‘It seems that while he was abroad this young man was allowed to do as he liked, now in Petersburg I hear he has been doing such terrible things that he has been ex- pelled by the police.’ ‘You don’t say so!’ replied the countess. ‘He chose his friends badly,’ interposed Anna Mikhay- lovna. ‘Prince Vasili’s son, he, and a certain Dolokhov have, 65 Free eBooks at Planet eBook.com it is said, been up to heaven only knows what! And they have had to suffer for it. Dolokhov has been degraded to the ranks and Bezukhov’s son sent back to Moscow. Anatole Kuragin’s father managed somehow to get his son’s affair hushed up, but even he was ordered out of Petersburg.’ ‘But what have they been up to?’ asked the countess. ‘They are regular brigands, especially Dolokhov,’ replied the visitor. ‘He is a son of Marya Ivanovna Dolokhova, such a worthy woman, but there, just fancy! Those three got hold of a bear somewhere, put it in a carriage, and set off with it to visit some actresses! The police tried to interfere, and what did the young men do? They tied a policeman and the bear back to back and put the bear into the Moyka Canal. And there was the bear swimming about with the police- man 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,’ con- tinued the visitor. ‘And to think it is Cyril Vladimirovich Bezukhov’s son who amuses himself in this sensible man- ner! 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 de- clined: I have my daughters to consider.’ ‘Why do you say this young man is so rich?’ asked the countess, turning away from the girls, who at once assumed War and Peace 66 an air of inattention. ‘His children are all illegitimate. I think Pierre also is illegitimate.’ The visitor made a gesture with her hand. ‘I should think he has a score of them.’ Princess Anna Mikhaylovna intervened in the con- versation, evidently wishing to show her connections and knowledge of what went on in society. ‘The fact of the matter is,’ said she significantly, and also in a half whisper, ‘everyone knows Count Cyril’s reputa- tion.... He has lost count of his children, but this Pierre was his favorite.’ ‘How handsome the old man still was only a year ago!’ re- marked 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 deathand he is so ill that he may die at any moment, and Dr. Lorrain has come from Petersburgno 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. Be- sides, Cyril Vladimirovich is my mother’s second cousin. He’s also my Bory’s godfather,’ she added, as if she attached no importance at all to the fact. ‘Prince Vasili arrived in Moscow yesterday. I hear he has come on some inspection business,’ remarked the visitor. ‘Yes, but between ourselves,’ said the princess, that is a pretext. The fact is he has come to see Count Cyril Vladi- 67 Free eBooks at Planet eBook.com mirovich, hearing how ill he is.’ ‘But do you know, my dear, that was a capital joke,’ said the count; and seeing that the elder visitor was not listen- ing, he turned to the young ladies. ‘I can just imagine what a funny figure that policeman cut!’ And as he waved his arms to impersonate the policeman, his portly form again shook with a deep ringing laugh, the laugh of one who always eats well and, in particular, drinks well. ‘So do come and dine with us!’ he said. War and Peace 68 Chapter XI Silence ensued. The countess looked at her callers, smil- ing affably, but not concealing the fact that she would not be distressed if they now rose and took their leave. The visitor’s daughter was already smoothing down her dress with an inquiring look at her mother, when suddenly from the next room were heard the footsteps of boys and girls running to the door and the noise of a chair falling over, and a girl of thirteen, hiding something in the folds of her short mus- lin frock, darted in and stopped short in the middle of the room. It was evident that she had not intended her flight to bring her so far. Behind her in the doorway appeared a stu- dent with a crimson coat collar, an officer of the Guards, a girl of fifteen, and a plump rosy-faced boy in a short jacket. The count jumped up and, swaying from side to side, spread his arms wide and threw them round the little girl who had run in. ‘Ah, here she is!’ he exclaimed laughing. ‘My pet, whose name day it is. My dear pet!’ ‘Ma chere, there is a time for everything,’ said the count- ess with feigned severity. ‘You spoil her, Ilya,’ she added, turning to her husband. ‘How do you do, my dear? I wish you many happy re- turns of your name day,’ said the visitor. ‘What a charming child,’ she added, addressing the mother. 69 Free eBooks at Planet eBook.com This black-eyed, wide-mouthed girl, not pretty but full of lifewith childish bare shoulders which after her run heaved and shook her bodice, with black curls tossed backward, thin bare arms, little legs in lace-frilled drawers, and feet in low slipperswas 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 mantillanot paying the least atten- tion to her severe remarkand 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 fun- ny). She leaned against her mother and burst into such a loud, ringing fit of laughter that even the prim visitor could not help joining in. ‘Now then, go away and take your monstrosity with you,’ said the mother, pushing away her daughter with pretended sternness, and turning to the visitor she added: ‘She is my youngest girl.’ Natasha, raising her face for a moment from her moth- er’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 rela- tion of yours? A daughter, I suppose?’ Natasha did not like the visitor’s tone of condescension to childish things. She did not reply, but looked at her seri- War and Peace 70 ously. Meanwhile the younger generation: Boris, the officer, Anna Mikhaylovna’s son; Nicholas, the undergraduate, the count’s eldest son; Sonya, the count’s fifteen-year-old niece, and little Petya, his youngest boy, had all settled down in the drawing room and were obviously trying to restrain within the bounds of decorum the excitement and mirth that shone in all their faces. Evidently in the back rooms, from which they had dashed out so impetuously, the con- versation had been more amusing than the drawing-room talk of society scandals, the weather, and Countess Aprak- sina. Now and then they glanced at one another, hardly able to suppress their laughter. The two young men, the student and the officer, friends from childhood, were of the same age and both handsome fellows, though not alike. Boris was tall and fair, and his calm and handsome face had regular, delicate features. Nicholas was short with curly hair and an open expres- sion. Dark hairs were already showing on his upper lip, and his whole face expressed impetuosity and enthusiasm. Nicholas blushed when he entered the drawing room. He evidently tried to find something to say, but failed. Boris on the contrary at once found his footing, and related qui- etly and humorously how he had know that doll Mimi when she was still quite a young lady, before her nose was broken; how she had aged during the five years he had known her, and how her head had cracked right across the skull. Hav- ing said this he glanced at Natasha. She turned away from him and glanced at her younger brother, who was screwing 71 Free eBooks at Planet eBook.com up his eyes and shaking with suppressed laughter, and un- able to control herself any longer, she jumped up and rushed from the room as fast as her nimble little feet would carry her. Boris did not laugh. ‘You were meaning to go out, weren’t you, Mamma? Do you want the carriage?’ he asked his mother with a smile. ‘Yes, yes, go and tell them to get it ready,’ she answered, returning his smile. Boris quietly left the room and went in search of Natasha. The plump boy ran after them angrily, as if vexed that their program had been disturbed. War and Peace 72 Chapter XII The only young people remaining in the drawing room, not counting the young lady visitor and the countess’ eldest daughter (who was four years older than her sister and be- haved already like a grown-up person), were Nicholas and Sonya, the niece. Sonya was a slender little brunette with a tender look in her eyes which were veiled by long lash- es, thick black plaits coiling twice round her head, and a tawny tint in her complexion and especially in the color of her slender but graceful and muscular arms and neck. By the grace of her movements, by the softness and flexibil- ity of her small limbs, and by a certain coyness and reserve of manner, she reminded one of a pretty, half-grown kit- ten 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 ad- oration that her smile could not for a single instant impose upon anyone, and it was clear that the kitten had settled down only to spring up with more energy and again play with her cousin as soon as they too could, like Natasha and Boris, escape from the drawing room. ‘Ah yes, my dear,’ said the count, addressing the visitor and pointing to Nicholas, ‘his friend Boris has become an 73 Free eBooks at Planet eBook.com officer, and so for friendship’s sake he is leaving the univer- sity and me, his old father, and entering the military service, my dear. And there was a place and everything waiting for him in the Archives Department! Isn’t that friendship?’ re- marked the count in an inquiring tone. ‘But they say that war has been declared,’ replied the visi- tor. ‘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 if from a shameful aspersion. ‘It is not from friendship at all; I simply feel that the army is my vocation.’ He glanced at his cousin and the young lady visitor; and they were both regarding him with a smile of approbation. ‘Schubert, the colonel of the Pavlograd Hussars, is din- ing with us today. He has been here on leave and is taking Nicholas back with him. It can’t be helped!’ said the count, shrugging his shoulders and speaking playfully of a matter that evidently distressed him. ‘I have already told you, Papa,’ said his son, ‘that if you don’t wish to let me go, I’ll stay. But I know I am no use anywhere except in the army; I am not a diplomat or a gov- ernment clerk.I don’t know how to hide what I feel.’ As he spoke he kept glancing with the flirtatiousness of a hand- some youth at Sonya and the young lady visitor. War and Peace 74 The little kitten, feasting her eyes on him, seemed ready at any moment to start her gambols again and display her kittenish nature. ‘All right, all right!’ said the old count. ‘He always flares up! This Buonaparte has turned all their heads; they all think of how he rose from an ensign and became Emperor. Well, well, God grant it,’ he added, not noticing his visitor’s sarcastic smile. The elders began talking about Bonaparte. Julie Karagi- na turned to young Rostov. ‘What a pity you weren’t at the Arkharovs’ on Thursday. It was so dull without you,’ said she, giving him a tender smile. The young man, flattered, sat down nearer to her with a coquettish smile, and engaged the smiling Julie in a confidential conversation without at all noticing that his in- voluntary smile had stabbed the heart of Sonya, who blushed and smiled unnaturally. In the midst of his talk he glanced round at her. She gave him a passionately angry glance, and hardly able to restrain her tears and maintain the artificial smile on her lips, she got up and left the room. All Nicho- las’ animation vanished. He waited for the first pause in the conversation, and then with a distressed face left the room to find Sonya. ‘How plainly all these young people wear their hearts on their sleeves!’ said Anna Mikhaylovna, pointing to Nich- olas as he went out. ‘Cousinagedangereux voisinage;”* she added. *Cousinhood is a dangerous neighborhood. 75 Free eBooks at Planet eBook.com ‘Yes,’ said the countess when the brightness these young people had brought into the room had vanished; and as if answering a question no one had put but which was always in her mind, ‘and how much suffering, how much anxiety one has had to go through that we might rejoice in them now! And yet really the anxiety is greater now than the joy. One is always, always anxious! Especially just at this age, so dangerous both for girls and boys.’ ‘It all depends on the bringing up,’ remarked the visitor. ‘Yes, you’re quite right,’ continued the countess. ‘Till now I have always, thank God, been my children’s friend and had their full confidence,’ said she, repeating the mistake of so many parents who imagine that their children have no secrets from them. ‘I know I shall always be my daughters’ first confidante, and that if Nicholas, with his impulsive 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 youngsters,’ chimed in the count, who always solved questions that seemed to him perplexing by deciding that everything was splendid. ‘Just fancy: wants to be an hussar. What’s one to do, my dear?’ ‘What a charming creature your younger girl is,’ said the visitor; ‘a little volcano!’ ‘Yes, a regular volcano,’ said the count. ‘Takes after me! And what a voice she has; though she’s my daughter, I tell the truth when I say she’ll be a singer, a second Salomoni! We have engaged an Italian to give her lessons.’ ‘Isn’t she too young? I have heard that it harms the voice to train it at that age.’ War and Peace 76 ‘Oh no, not at all too young!’ replied the count. ‘Why, our mothers used to be married at twelve or thirteen.’ ‘And she’s in love with Boris already. Just fancy!’ said the countess with a gentle smile, looking at Boris’ and went on, evidently concerned with a thought that always occupied her: ‘Now you see if I were to be severe with her and to for- bid it... goodness knows what they might be up to on the sly’ (she meant that they would be kissing), ‘but as it is, I know every word she utters. She will come running to me of her own accord in the evening and tell me everything. Perhaps I spoil her, but really that seems the best plan. With her elder sister I was stricter.’ ‘Yes, I was brought up quite differently,’ remarked the handsome elder daughter, Countess Vera, with a smile. But the smile did not enhance Vera’s beauty as smiles generally do; on the contrary it gave her an unnatural, and therefore unpleasant, expression. Vera was good-looking, not at all stupid, quick at learning, was well brought up, and had a pleasant voice; what she said was true and appropri- ate, yet, strange to say, everyonethe 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 eldest children and try to make something exceptional of them,’ said the visitor. ‘What’s the good of denying it, my dear? Our dear count- ess was too clever with Vera,’ said the count. ‘Well, what of that? She’s turned out splendidly all the same,’ he added, winking at Vera. 77 Free eBooks at Planet eBook.com The guests got up and took their leave, promising to re- turn to dinner. ‘What manners! I thought they would never go,’ said the countess, when she had seen her guests out. War and Peace 78 Chapter XIII When Natasha ran out of the drawing room she only went as far as the conservatory. There she paused and stood listening to the conversation in the drawing room, waiting for Boris to come out. She was already growing impatient, and stamped her foot, ready to cry at his not coming at once, when she heard the young man’s discreet steps approaching neither quickly nor slowly. At this Natasha dashed swiftly among the flower tubs and hid there. Boris paused in the middle of the room, looked round, brushed a little dust from the sleeve of his uniform, and go- ing up to a mirror examined his handsome face. Natasha, very still, peered out from her ambush, waiting to see what he would do. He stood a little while before the glass, smiled, and walked toward the other door. Natasha was about to call him but changed her mind. ‘Let him look for me,’ thought she. Hardly had Boris gone than Sonya, flushed, in tears, and mut- tering angrily, came in at the other door. Natasha checked her first impulse to run out to her, and remained in her hiding place, watchingas under an invisible capto see what went on in the world. She was experiencing a new and peculiar pleasure. Sonya, muttering to herself, kept looking round toward the drawing-room door. It opened and Nicholas came in. ‘Sonya, what is the matter with you? How can you?’ said he, running up to her. 79 Free eBooks at Planet eBook.com ‘It’s nothing, nothing; leave me alone!’ sobbed Sonya. ‘Ah, I know what it is.’ ‘Well, if you do, so much the better, and you can go back to her!’ ‘So-o-onya! Look here! How can you torture me and yourself like that, for a mere fancy?’ said Nicholas taking her hand. Sonya did not pull it away, and left off crying. Natasha, not stirring and scarcely breathing, watched from her ambush with sparkling eyes. ‘What will happen now?’ thought she. ‘Sonya! What is anyone in the world to me? You alone are everything!’ said Nicholas. ‘And I will prove it to you.’ ‘I don’t like you to talk like that.’ ‘Well, then, I won’t; only forgive me, Sonya!’ He drew her to him and kissed her. ‘Oh, how nice,’ thought Natasha; and when Sonya and Nicholas had gone out of the conservatory she followed and called Boris to her. ‘Boris, come here,’ said she with a sly and significant look. ‘I have something to tell you. Here, here!’ and she led him into the conservatory to the place among the tubs where she had been hiding. Boris followed her, smiling. ‘What is the something?’ asked he. She grew confused, glanced round, and, seeing the doll she had thrown down on one of the tubs, picked it up. ‘Kiss the doll,’ said she. Boris looked attentively and kindly at her eager face, but did not reply. War and Peace 80 ‘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 so- lemnity and fear appeared on her flushed face. ‘And me? Would you like to kiss me?’ she whispered almost inaudibly, glancing up at him from under her brows, smiling, and almost crying from excitement. Boris blushed. ‘How funny you are!’ he said, bending down to her and blushing still more, but he waited and did nothing. Suddenly she jumped up onto a tub to be higher than he, embraced him so that both her slender bare arms clasped him above his neck, and, tossing back her hair, kissed him full on the lips. Then she slipped down among the flowerpots on the other side of the tubs and stood, hanging her head. ‘Natasha,’ he said, ‘you know that I love you, but..’ ‘You are in love with me?’ Natasha broke in. ‘Yes, I am, but please don’t let us do like that.... In another four years... then I will ask for your hand.’ Natasha considered. ‘Thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen,’ she counted on her slender little fingers. ‘All right! Then it’s settled?’ A smile of joy and satisfaction lit up her eager face. ‘Settled!’ replied Boris. ‘Forever?’ said the little girl. ‘Till death itself?’ She took his arm and with a happy face went with him into the adjoining sitting room. 81 Free eBooks at Planet eBook.com 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 congrat- ulate.’ The countess wished to have a tete-a-tete talk with the friend of her childhood, Princess Anna Mikhaylovna, whom she had not seen properly since she returned from Petersburg. Anna Mikhaylovna, with her tear-worn but pleasant face, drew her chair nearer to that of the countess. ‘With you I will be quite frank,’ said Anna Mikhaylovna. ‘There are not many left of us old friends! That’s why I so value your friendship.’ Anna Mikhaylovna looked at Vera and paused. The countess pressed her friend’s hand. ‘Vera,’ she said to her eldest daughter who was evidently not a favorite, ‘how is it you have so little tact? Don’t you see you are not wanted here? Go to the other girls, or..’ The handsome Vera smiled contemptuously but did not seem at all hurt. ‘If you had told me sooner, Mamma, I would have gone,’ she replied as she rose to go to her own room. But as she passed the sitting room she noticed two cou- ples sitting, one pair at each window. She stopped and smiled scornfully. Sonya was sitting close to Nicholas who was copying out some verses for her, the first he had ever War and Peace 82 written. Boris and Natasha were at the other window and ceased talking when Vera entered. Sonya and Natasha looked at Vera with guilty, happy faces. It was pleasant and touching to see these little girls in love; but apparently the sight of them roused no pleasant feeling in Vera. ‘How often have I asked you not to take my things?’ she said. ‘You have a room of your own,’ and she took the ink- stand from Nicholas. ‘In a minute, in a minute,’ he said, dipping his pen. ‘You always manage to do things at the wrong time,’ con- tinued Vera. ‘You came rushing into the drawing room so that everyone felt ashamed of you.’ Though what she said was quite just, perhaps for that very reason no one replied, and the four simply looked at one another. She lingered in the room with the inkstand in her hand. ‘And at your age what secrets can there be between Natasha and Boris, or between you two? It’s all nonsense!’ ‘Now, Vera, what does it matter to you?’ said Natasha in defense, speaking very gently. She seemed that day to be more than ever kind and af- fectionate to everyone. ‘Very silly,’ said Vera. ‘I am ashamed of you. Secrets in- deed!’ ‘All have secrets of their own,’ answered Natasha, getting warmer. ‘We don’t interfere with you and Berg.’ ‘I should think not,’ said Vera, ‘because there can never be anything wrong in my behavior. But I’ll just tell Mamma 83 Free eBooks at Planet eBook.com how you are behaving with Boris.’ ‘Natalya Ilynichna behaves very well to me,’ remarked Boris. ‘I have nothing to complain of.’ ‘Don’t, Boris! You are such a diplomat that it is really tiresome,’ said Natasha in a mortified voice that trembled slightly. (She used the word ‘diplomat,’ which was just then much in vogue among the children, in the special sense they attached to it.) ‘Why does she bother me?’ And she added, turning to Vera, ‘You’ll never understand it, because you’ve never loved anyone. You have no heart! You are a Madame de Genlis and nothing more’ (this nickname, bestowed on Vera by Nicholas, was considered very stinging), ‘and your greatest pleasure is to be unpleasant to people! Go and flirt with Berg as much as you please,’ she finished quickly. ‘I shall at any rate not run after a young man before visi- tors..’ ‘Well, now you’ve done what you wanted,’ put in Nicholas‘said unpleasant things to everyone and upset them. Let’s go to the nursery.’ All four, like a flock of scared birds, got up and left the room. ‘The unpleasant things were said to me,’ remarked Vera, ‘I said none to anyone.’ ‘Madame de Genlis! Madame de Genlis!’ shouted laugh- ing voices through the door. The handsome Vera, who produced such an irritating and unpleasant effect on everyone, smiled and, evidently unmoved by what had been said to her, went to the look- ing glass and arranged her hair and scarf. Looking at her War and Peace 84 own handsome face she seemed to become still colder and calmer. In the drawing room the conversation was still going on. ‘Ah, my dear,’ said the countess, ‘my life is not all roses either. Don’t I know that at the rate we are living our means won’t last long? It’s all the Club and his easygoing nature. Even in the country do we get any rest? Theatricals, hunting, and heaven knows what besides! But don’t let’s talk about me; tell me how you managed everything. I often wonder at you, Annettehow at your age you can rush off alone in a carriage to Moscow, to Petersburg, to those ministers and great people, and know how to deal with them all! It’s quite astonishing. How did you get things settled? I couldn’t pos- sibly do it.’ ‘Ah, my love,’ answered Anna Mikhaylovna, ‘God grant you never know what it is to be left a widow without means and with a son you love to distraction! One learns many things then,’ she added with a certain pride. ‘That lawsuit taught me much. When I want to see one of those big people I write a note: ‘Princess So-and-So desires an interview with So and-So,’ and then I take a cab and go myself two, three, or four timestill 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 in- terest himself for him. To whom did you apply?’ ‘To Prince Vasili. He was so kind. He at once agreed to 85 Free eBooks at Planet eBook.com everything, and put the matter before the Emperor,’ said Princess Anna Mikhaylovna enthusiastically, quite forget- ting all the humiliation she had endured to gain her end. ‘Has Prince Vasili aged much?’ asked the countess. ‘I have not seen him since we acted together at the Rumyants- ovs’ theatricals. I expect he has forgotten me. He paid me attentions in those days,’ said the countess, with a smile. ‘He is just the same as ever,’ replied Anna Mikhaylovna, ‘overflowing with amiability. His position has not turned his head at all. He said to me, ‘I am sorry I can do so little for you, dear Princess. I am at your command.’ Yes, he is a fine fellow and a very kind relation. But, Nataly, you know my love for my son: I would do anything for his happiness! And my affairs are in such a bad way that my position is now a terrible one,’ continued Anna Mikhaylovna, sadly, dropping her voice. ‘My wretched lawsuit takes all I have and makes no progress. Would you believe it, I have literally not a pen- ny and don’t know how to equip Boris.’ She took out her handkerchief and began to cry. ‘I need five hundred rubles, and have only one twenty-five-ruble note. I am in such a state.... My only hope now is in Count Cyril Vladimirovich Bezukhov. If he will not assist his godsonyou know he is Bory’s godfatherand allow him something for his mainte- nance, 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 prin- cess, ‘that here lives Count Cyril Vladimirovich Bezukhov War and Peace 86 so rich, all alone... that tremendous fortune... and what is his life worth? It’s a burden to him, and Bory’s life is only just beginning...’ ‘Surely he will leave something to Boris,’ said the count- ess. ‘Heaven only knows, my dear! These rich grandees are so selfish. Still, I will take Boris and go to see him at once, and I shall speak to him straight out. Let people think what they will of me, it’s really all the same to me when my son’s fate is at stake.’ The princess rose. ‘It’s now two o’clock and you dine at four. There will just be time.’ And like a practical Petersburg lady who knows how to make the most of time, Anna Mikhaylovna sent someone to call her son, and went into the anteroom with him. ‘Good-by, my dear,’ said she to the countess who saw her to the door, and added in a whisper so that her son should not hear, ‘Wish me good luck.’ ‘Are you going to Count Cyril Vladimirovich, my dear?’ said the count coming out from the dining hall into the an- teroom, and he added: ‘If he is better, ask Pierre to dine with us. He has been to the house, you know, and danced with the children. Be sure to invite him, my dear. We will see how Taras distinguishes himself today. He says Count Or- lov never gave such a dinner as ours will be!’ 87 Free eBooks at Planet eBook.com Chapter XV ‘My dear Boris,’ said Princess Anna Mikhaylovna to her son as Countess Rostova’s carriage in which they were seat- ed drove over the straw covered street and turned into the wide courtyard of Count Cyril Vladimirovich Bezukhov’s house. ‘My dear Boris,’ said the mother, drawing her hand from beneath her old mantle and laying it timidly and ten- derly on her son’s arm, ‘be affectionate and attentive to him. Count Cyril Vladimirovich is your godfather after all, your future depends on him. Remember that, my dear, and be nice to him, as you so well know how to be.’ ‘If only I knew that anything besides humiliation would come of it...’ answered her son coldly. ‘But I have promised and will do it for your sake.’ Although the hall porter saw someone’s carriage stand- ing at the entrance, after scrutinizing the mother and son (who without asking to be announced had passed straight through the glass porch between the rows of statues in nich- es) 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 excellency was not receiving anyone. ‘We may as well go back,’ said the son in French. ‘My dear!’ exclaimed his mother imploringly, again lay- War and Peace 88 ing her hand on his arm as if that touch might soothe or rouse him. Boris said no more, but looked inquiringly at his mother without taking off his cloak. ‘My friend,’ said Anna Mikhaylovna in gentle tones, ad- dressing the hall porter, I know Count Cyril Vladimirovich is very ill... that’s why I have come... I am a relation. I shall not disturb him, my friend... I only need see Prince Vasili Sergeevich: he is staying here, is he not? Please announce me.’ The hall porter sullenly pulled a bell that rang upstairs, and turned away. ‘Princess Drubetskaya to see Prince Vasili Sergeevich,’ he called to a footman dressed in knee breeches, shoes, and a swallow-tail coat, who ran downstairs and looked over from the halfway landing. The mother smoothed the folds of her dyed silk dress before a large Venetian mirror in the wall, and in her trod- den-down shoes briskly ascended the carpeted stairs. ‘My dear,’ she said to her son, once more stimulating him by a touch, ‘you promised me!’ The son, lowering his eyes, followed her quietly. They entered the large hall, from which one of the doors led to the apartments assigned to Prince Vasili. Just as the mother and son, having reached the middle of the hall, were about to ask their way of an elderly footman who had sprung up as they entered, the bronze handle of one of the doors turned and Prince Vasili came outwear- ing a velvet coat with a single star on his breast, as was his 89 Free eBooks at Planet eBook.com custom when at hometaking leave of a good-looking, dark- haired man. This was the celebrated Petersburg doctor, Lorrain. ‘Then it is certain?’ said the prince. ‘Prince, humanum est errare,* but...’ replied the doctor, swallowing his r’s, and pronouncing the Latin words with a French accent. *To err is human. ‘Very well, very well..’ Seeing Anna Mikhaylovna and her son, Prince Vasili dismissed the doctor with a bow and approached them si- lently and with a look of inquiry. The son noticed that an expression of profound sorrow suddenly clouded his moth- er’s face, and he smiled slightly. ‘Ah, Prince! In what sad circumstances we meet again! And how is our dear invalid?’ said she, as though unaware of the cold offensive look fixed on her. Prince Vasili stared at her and at Boris questioningly and perplexed. Boris bowed politely. Prince Vasili with- out acknowledging the bow turned to Anna Mikhaylovna, answering her query by a movement of the head and lips in- dicating very little hope for the patient. ‘Is it possible?’ exclaimed Anna Mikhaylovna. ‘Oh, how awful! It is terrible to think.... This is my son,’ she added, in- dicating 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 War and Peace 90 Mikhaylovna,’ said Prince Vasili, arranging his lace frill, and in tone and manner, here in Moscow to Anna Mikhay- lovna whom he had placed under an obligation, assuming an air of much greater importance than he had done in Pe- tersburg at Anna Scherer’s reception. ‘Try to serve well and show yourself worthy,’ added he, addressing Boris with severity. ‘I am glad.... Are you here on leave?’ he went on in his usual tone of indifference. ‘I am awaiting orders to join my new regiment, your ex- cellency,’ replied Boris, betraying neither annoyance at the prince’s brusque manner nor a desire to enter into conver- sation, but speaking so quietly and respectfully that the prince gave him a searching glance. ‘Are you living with your mother?’ ‘I am living at Countess Rostova’s,’ replied Boris, again adding, ‘your excellency.’ ‘That is, with Ilya Rostov who married Nataly Shinshi- na,’ said Anna Mikhaylovna. ‘I know, I know,’ answered Prince Vasili in his monoto- nous voice. ‘I never could understand how Nataly made up her mind to marry that unlicked bear! A perfectly absurd and stupid fellow, and a gambler too, I am told.’ ‘But a very kind man, Prince,’ said Anna Mikhaylovna with a pathetic smile, as though she too knew that Count Rostov deserved this censure, but asked him not to be too hard on the poor old man. ‘What do the doctors say?’ asked the princess after a pause, her worn face again expressing deep sorrow. ‘They give little hope,’ replied the prince. 91 Free eBooks at Planet eBook.com ‘And I should so like to thank Uncle once for all his kind- ness to me and Boris. He is his godson,’ she added, her tone suggesting that this fact ought to give Prince Vasili much satisfaction. Prince Vasili became thoughtful and frowned. Anna Mikhaylovna saw that he was afraid of finding in her a ri- val for Count Bezukhov’s fortune, and hastened to reassure him. ‘If it were not for my sincere affection and devotion to Uncle,’ said she, uttering the word with peculiar assurance and unconcern, ‘I know his character: noble, upright... but you see he has no one with him except the young princess- es.... They are still young....’ She bent her head and continued in a whisper: ‘Has he performed his final duty, Prince? How priceless are those last moments! It can make things no worse, and it is absolutely necessary to prepare him if he is so ill. We women, Prince,’ and she smiled tenderly, ‘always know how to say these things. I absolutely must see him, however painful it may be for me. I am used to suffering.’ Evidently the prince understood her, and also under- stood, as he had done at Anna Pavlovna’s, that it would be difficult to get rid of Anna Mikhaylovna. ‘Would not such a meeting be too trying for him, dear Anna Mikhaylovna?’ said he. ‘Let us wait until evening. The doctors are expecting a crisis.’ ‘But one cannot delay, Prince, at such a moment! Con- sider that the welfare of his soul is at stake. Ah, it is awful: the duties of a Christian..’ A door of one of the inner rooms opened and one of the War and Peace 92 princesses, the count’s niece, entered with a cold, stern face. The length of her body was strikingly out of proportion to her short legs. Prince Vasili turned to her. ‘Well, how is he?’ ‘Still the same; but what can you expect, this noise...’ said the princess, looking at Anna Mikhaylovna as at a strang- er. ‘Ah, my dear, I hardly knew you,’ said Anna Mikhay- lovna with a happy smile, ambling lightly up to the count’s niece. ‘I have come, and am at your service to help you nurse my uncle. I imagine what you have gone through,’ and she sympathetically turned up her eyes. The princess gave no reply and did not even smile, but left the room at Anna Mikhaylovna took off her gloves and, oc- cupying the position she had conquered, settled down in an armchair, inviting Prince Vasili to take a seat beside her. ‘Boris,’ she said to her son with a smile, ‘I shall go in to see the count, my uncle; but you, my dear, had better go to Pierre meanwhile and don’t forget to give him the Rostovs’ invitation. They ask him to dinner. I suppose he won’t go?’ she continued, turning to the prince. ‘On the contrary,’ replied the prince, who had plainly be- come depressed, ‘I shall be only too glad if you relieve me of that young man.... Here he is, and the count has not once asked for him.’ He shrugged his shoulders. A footman conducted Boris down one flight of stairs and up another, to Pierre’s rooms. 93 Free eBooks at Planet eBook.com Chapter XVI Pierre, after all, had not managed to choose a career for himself in Petersburg, and had been expelled from there for riotous conduct and sent to Moscow. The story told about him at Count Rostov’s was true. Pierre had taken part in ty- ing a policeman to a bear. He had now been for some days in Moscow and was staying as usual at his father’s house. Though he expected that the story of his escapade would be already known in Moscow and that the ladies about his fath- erwho were never favorably disposed toward himwould 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. En- tering 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 readingthe one who had met Anna Mikhaylovna. The two younger ones were embroidering: both were rosy and pretty and they differed only in that one had a little mole on her lip which made her much prettier. Pierre was received as if he were a corpse or a leper. The eldest princess paused in her reading and silently stared at him with frightened eyes; the second assumed precisely the same expression; while the youngest, the one with the mole, who was of a cheerful and lively disposition, bent over her frame to hide a smile prob- ably evoked by the amusing scene she foresaw. She drew her War and Peace 94 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 recog- nize me?’ ‘I recognize you only too well, too well.’ ‘How is the count? Can I see him?’ asked Pierre, awk- wardly as usual, but unabashed. ‘The count is suffering physically and mentally, and ap- parently 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 readyit is almost time,’ she added, giving Pierre to un- derstand that they were busy, and busy making his father comfortable, while evidently he, Pierre, was only busy caus- ing him annoyance. Olga went out. Pierre stood looking at the sisters; then he bowed and said: ‘Then I will go to my rooms. You will let me know when I can see him.’ And he left the room, followed by the low but ringing laughter of the sister with the mole. Next day Prince Vasili had arrived and settled in the count’s house. He sent for Pierre and said to him: ‘My dear fellow, if you are going to behave here as you did in Peters- burg, you will end very badly; that is all I have to say to you. The count is very, very ill, and you must not see him at all.’ Since then Pierre had not been disturbed and had spent the whole time in his rooms upstairs. 95 Free eBooks at Planet eBook.com When Boris appeared at his door Pierre was pacing up and down his room, stopping occasionally at a corner to make menacing gestures at the wall, as if running a sword through an invisible foe, and glaring savagely over his spectacles, and then again resuming his walk, muttering indistinct words, shrugging his shoulders and gesticulating. ‘England is done for,’ said he, scowling and pointing his finger at someone unseen. ‘Mr. Pitt, as a traitor to the nation and to the rights of man, is sentenced to...’ But before Pier- rewho 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 Londoncould pronounce Pitt’s sentence, he saw a well-built and handsome young of- ficer entering his room. Pierre paused. He had left Moscow when Boris was a boy of fourteen, and had quite forgotten him, but in his usual impulsive and hearty way he took Boris by the hand with a friendly smile. ‘Do you remember me?’ asked Boris quietly with a pleas- ant smile. ‘I have come with my mother to see the count, but it seems he is not well.’ ‘Yes, it seems he is ill. People are always disturbing him,’ answered Pierre, trying to remember who this young man was. Boris felt that Pierre did not recognize him but did not consider it necessary to introduce himself, and without ex- periencing the least embarrassment looked Pierre straight in the face. ‘Count Rostov asks you to come to dinner today,’ said he, after a considerable pause which made Pierre feel uncom- War and Peace 96 fortable. ‘Ah, Count Rostov!’ exclaimed Pierre joyfully. ‘Then you are his son, Ilya? Only fancy, I didn’t know you at first. Do you remember how we went to the Sparrow Hills with Ma- dame Jacquot?... It’s such an age..’ ‘You are mistaken,’ said Boris deliberately, with a bold and slightly sarcastic smile. ‘I am Boris, son of Princess Anna Mikhaylovna Drubetskaya. Rostov, the father, is Ilya, and his son is Nicholas. I never knew any Madame Jacquot.’ Pierre shook his head and arms as if attacked by mosqui- toes or bees. ‘Oh dear, what am I thinking about? I’ve mixed every- thing up. One has so many relatives in Moscow! So you are Boris? Of course. Well, now we know where we are. And what do you think of the Boulogne expedition? The English will come off badly, you know, if Napoleon gets across the Channel. I think the expedition is quite feasible. If only Vil- leneuve doesn’t make a mess of things! Boris knew nothing about the Boulogne expedition; he did not read the papers and it was the first time he had heard Villeneuve’s name. ‘We here in Moscow are more occupied with dinner Yüklə 9,73 Mb. Dostları ilə paylaş:
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