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Desc:Over an hour of human swastikas, illuminati symbols, robots vomiting blood, burning riot cops,
Category:Accidents & Explosions, Short Films
Tags:russia, Ukraine, Crimea, night wolves, Xtreme circus
Submitted:Azmo23
Date:08/18/14
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Comment count is 38
Old_Zircon - 2014-08-18
Russian Blue Man Group.
EvilHomer - 2014-08-18
Innocent Empire of Peace.

Sudan no1 - 2014-08-18
In b4 SolRo brings up 'murkan racist biker gangs.

urbanelf - 2014-08-18
Who is wonko the sane? He's down voting everything in the hopper. It's making the children cry.

SolRo - 2014-08-18
so this is racist? I didn't watch it all...

EvilHomer - 2014-08-18
Not by the standards you hold Russia to.

SolRo - 2014-08-18
Go ahead and point out the racist parts to me you dumb stooge.

EvilHomer - 2014-08-18
I told you, it's not racist. At least, not by the standards you hold Russia to. You see something like this, and you see heritage, not hate. You see proud Slavic men standing up for their people and their culture, Viking heroes ready to die in defiance of the Jewish and Euro fascists who threaten the glorious Russian way of life. What can I say that will change your mind? Is there *anything* I could say that won't simply drive you into the classic standard, "anti-racist is code for anti-Russian"?

We know this is racist, but you think it's fine. And that's OK, that's your choice; you have a right to sympathize with the bad guys, if that's really how you feel! Freedom of thought is one of the great perks of living in the Free World, and I'm glad you're using it, because you wouldn't have that freedom in Russia.

SolRo - 2014-08-18
Go ahead and point out the racist parts (from your perspective) to me you dumb stooge.

EvilHomer - 2014-08-18
Tell you what, you point out for me the racist parts here:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b0kwnLzFMls

SolRo - 2014-08-18
keep on dodging

EvilHomer - 2014-08-18
No, it's not dodging. I'm illustrating a point. Can you tell me what's racist about the video I posted?

SolRo - 2014-08-18
No. You're dodging.

You're saying it's racist.

I'm asking where the racists bits are because I didn't watch the whole hour of it.

And you go off on a tangent like a retard.

Wonko the Sane - 2014-08-18
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 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 nursery.

Princess Mary was still standing by the cot,
gently rocking the baby.

"Ah yes, and what else did he say that's un-
pleasant?" thought Prince Andrew, recalling
his father's letter. "Yes, we have gained a vic-
tory over Bonaparte, just when I'm not serv-
ing. Yes, yes, he's always poking fun at me

Ah, well! Let him!" And he began reading Bil-
ibin's letter which was written in French. He
read without understanding half of it, read on-
ly to forget, if but for a moment, what he had
too long been thinking of so painfully to the
exclusion of all else.

CHAPTER IX

BIL!BIN WAS NOW at army headquarters in a
diplomatic capacity, and though he wrote in
French and used French jests and French id-
ioms, he described the whole campaign with a
fearless self-censure and self-derision genuine-
ly Russian. Bilfbin wrote that the obligation of
diplomatic discretion tormented him, and he
was happy to have in Prince Andrew a reliable
correspondent to whom he could pour out the
bile he had accumulated at the sight of all that
was being done in the army. The letter was
old, having been written before the battle at
Preussisch-Eylau.

"Since the day of our brilliant success at Aus-
terlitz," wrote Bilfbin, "as you know, my dear
prince, I never leave headquarters. I have cer-
tainly acquired a taste for war, and it is just as
well for me; what I have seen during these last
three months is incredible.

"I begin ab ovo. 'The enemy of the human
race,' as you know, attacks the Prussians. The
Prussians are our faithful allies who have only
betrayed us three times in three years. We take
up their cause, but it turns out that 'the enemy
of the human race' pays no heed to our fine
speeches and in his rude and savage way
throws himself on the Prussians without giving
them time to finish the parade they had begun,
and in two twists of the hand he breaks them
to smithereens and installs himself in the pal-
ace at Potsdam.

" 1 most ardently desire/ writes the King of
Prussia to Bonaparte, 'that Your Majesty should
be received and treated in my palace in a man-
ner agreeable to yourself, and in so far as cir-



BOOK FIVE



209



cumstances allowed, I have hastened to take
all steps to that end. May I have succeeded!'
The Prussian generals pride themselves on be-
ing polite to the French and lay down their
arms at the first demand.

"The head of the garrison at Glogau, with
ten thousand men, asks the King of Prussia
what he is to do if he is summoned to surren-
der. . . . All this is absolutely true.

"In short, hoping to settle matters by taking
up a warlike attitude, it turns out that we have
landed ourselves in war, and what is more, in
war on our own frontiers, with and for the King
of Prussia. We have everything in perfect or-
der, only one little thing is lacking, namely, a
commander in chief. As it was considered that
the Austerlitz success might have been more
decisive had the commander in chief not been
so young, all our octogenarians were reviewed,
and of Prozor6vski and Kmenski the latter
was preferred. The general comes to us, Suv6-
rov-like, in a kibitka, 1 and is received with ac-
clamations of joy and triumph.

"On the 4th, the first courier arrives from
Petersburg. The mails are taken to the field
marshal's room, for he likes to do everything
himself. I am called in to help sort the letters
and take those meant for us. The field marshal
looks on and waits for letters addressed to him.
We search, but none are to be found. The field
marshal grows impatient and sets to work him-
self and finds letters from the Emperor to
Count T., Prince V., and others. Then he bursts
into one of his wild furies and rages at every-
one and everything, seizes the letters, opens
them, and reads those from the Emperor ad-
dressed to others. 'Ah! So that's the way they
treat me! No confidence in me! Ah, ordered to
keep an eye on me! Very well then! Get along
with you!' So he writes the famous order of the
clay to General Bennigsen:

" 'I am wounded and cannot ride and conse-
quently cannot command the army. You have
brought your army corps to Pultiisk, routed:
here it is exposed, and without fuel or forage,
so something must be done, and, as you your-
self reported to Count Buxhowden yesterday,
you must think of retreating to our frontier
which do today.'

" 'From all my riding,' he writes to the Em-
peror, 'I have got a saddle sore which, coming
after all my previous journeys, quite prevents
my riding and commanding so vast an army,
so I have passed on the command to the gen-

1 An old-fashioned wooden cart with a covered
top.-TR.



eral next in seniority, Count Buxhowden, hav-
ing sent him my whole staff and all that be-
longs to it, advising him if there is a lack of
bread, to move farther into the interior of
Prussia, for only one day's ration of bread re-
mains, and in some regiments none at all, as
reported by the division commanders, Oster-
mann and Sedmorckzki, and all that the peas-
ants had has been eaten up. I myself will re-
main in hospital at Ostrolenka till I recover.
In regard to which I humbly submit my re-
port, with the information that if the army re-
mains in its present bivouac another fortnight
there will not be a healthy man left in it by
spring.

" 'Grant leave to retire to his country seat to
an old man who is already in any case dishon-
ored by being unable to fulfill the great and
glorious task for which he was chosen. I shall
await your most gracious permission here in
hospital, that I may not have to play the part
of a secretary rather than commander in the
army. My removal from the army does not pro-
duce the slightest stir a blind man has left it.
There are thousands such as I in Russia.'

"The field marshal is angry with the Emper-
or and he punishes us all, isn't it logical?

"This is the first act. Those that follow are
naturally increasingly interesting and enter-
taining. After the field marshal's departure it
appears that we are within sight of the enemy
and must give battle. Buxhowden is command-
er in chief by seniority, but General Bennig-
sen does not quite see it; more particularly as
it is he and his corps who are within sight of
the enemy and he wishes to profit by the op-
portunity to fight a battle 'on his own hand* as
the Germans say. He does so. This is the battle
of Pultiisk, which is considered a great victory
but in my opinion was nothing of the kind.
We civilians, as you know, have a very bad way
of deciding whether a battle was won or lost.
Those who retreat after a battle have lost it is
what we say; and according to that it is we who
lost the battle of Pultiisk. In short, we retreat
after the battle but send a courier to Peters-
burg with news of a victory, and General Ben-
nigsen, hoping to receive from Petersburg the
post of commander in chief as a reward for his
victory, does not give up the command of the
army to General Buxhowden. During this in-
terregnum we begin a very original and inter-
esting series of maneuvers. Our aim is no
longer, as it should be, to avoid or attack the
enemy, but solely to avoid General Buxhowden
who by right of seniority should be our chief.



210

So energetically do we pursue this aim that aft-
er crossing an unfordable river we burn the
bridges to separate ourselves from our enemy,
who at the moment is not Bonaparte but Bux-
howden. General Buxhowden was all but at-
tacked and captured by a superior enemy force
as a result of one of these maneuvers that en-
abled us to escape him. Buxhowden pursues us
we scuttle. He hardly crosses the river to our
side before we recross to the other. At last our
enemy, Buxhowden, catches us and attacks.
Both generals are angry, and the result is a
challenge on Buxhowden's part and an epilep-
tic fit on Bennigsen's. But at the critical mo-
ment the courier who carried the news of our
victory at Pulttisk to Petersburg returns bring-
ing our appointment as commander in chief,
and our first foe, Buxhowden, is vanquished;
we can now turn our thoughts to the second,
Bonaparte. But as it turns out, just at that mo-
ment a third enemy rises before usnamely
the Orthodox Russian soldiers, loudly demand-
ing bread, meat, biscuits, fodder, and whatnot!
The stores are empty, the roads impassable.
The Orthodox begin looting, and in a way of
which our last campaign can give you no idea.
Half the regiments form bands and scour the
countryside and put everything to fire and
sword. The inhabitants are totally ruined, the
hospitals overflow with sick, and famine is
everywhere. Twice the marauders even attack
our headquarters, and the commander in chief
has to ask for a battalion to disperse them.
During one of these attacks they carried off my
empty portmanteau and my dressing gown.
The Emperor proposes to give all commanders
of divisions the right to shoot marauders, but
I much fear this will oblige one half the army
to shoot the other."

At first Prince Andrew read with his eyes
only, but after a while, in spite of himself (al-
though he knew how far it was safe to trust
Bilibin), what he had read began to interest
him more and more. When he had read thus
far, he crumpled the letter up and threw it
away. It was not what he had read that vexed
him, but the fact that the life out there in which
he had now no part could perturb him. He
shut his eyes, rubbed his forehead as if to rid
himself of all interest in what he had read, and
listened to what was passing in the nursery.
Suddenly he thought he heard a strange noise
through the door. He was seized with alarm
lest something should have happened to the
child while he was reading the letter. He went
on tiptoe to the nursery door and opened it.



WAR AND PEACE



Just as he went in he saw that the nurse was
hiding something from him with a scared look
and that Princess Mary was no longer by the
cot.

"My dear," he heard what seemed to him her
despairing whisper behind him.

As often happens afterlongsleeplessnessand
long anxiety, he was seized by an unreasoning
panic it occurred to him that the child was
dead. All that he saw and heard seemed to con-
firm this terror.

"All is over," he thought, and a cold sweat
broke out on his forehead. He went to the cot
in confusion, sure that he would find it empty
and that the nurse had been hiding the dead
baby. He drew the curtain aside and for some
time his frightened, restless eyes could not find
the baby. At last he saw him: the rosy boy had
tossed about till he lay across the bed with his
head lower than the pillow, and was smacking
his lips in his sleep and breathing evenly.

Prince Andrew was as glad to find the boy
like that, as if he had already lost him. He bent
over him and, as his sister had taught him,
tried with his lips whether the child was still
feverish. The soft forehead was moist. Prince
Andrew touched the head with his hand; even
the hair was wet, so profusely had the child
perspired. He was not dead, but evidently the
crisis was over and he was convalescent. Prince
Andrew longed to snatch up, to squeeze, to
hold to his heart, this helpless little creature,
but dared not do so. He stood over him, gazing
at his head and at the little arms and legs
which showed under the blanket. He heard a
rustle behind him and a shadow appeared un-
der the curtain of the cot. He did not look
round, but still gazing at the infant's face lis-
tened to his regular breathing. The dark shad-
ow was Princess Mary, who had come up to the
cot with noiseless steps, lifted the curtain, and
dropped it again behind her. Prince Andrew
recognized her without looking and held out
his hand to her. She pressed it.

"He has perspired," said Prince Andrew.

"I was coming to tell you so."

The child movedslightly in his sleep,smiled,
and rubbed his forehead against the pillow.

Prince Andrew looked at his sister. In the
dim shadow of the curtain her luminous eyes
shone more brightly than usual from the tears
of joy that were in them. She leaned over to
her brother and kissed him, slightly catching
the curtain of the cot. Each made the other a
warning gesture and stood still in the dim
light beneath the curtain as if not wishing to



BOOK FIVE



211



leave that seclusion where they three were shut
off from all the world. Prince Andrew was the
first to move away, ruffling his hair against the
muslin of the curtain.

"Yes, this is the one thing left me now/' he
said with a sigh.

CHAPTER X

SOON AFTER his admission to the Masonic Broth-
erhood, Pierre went to the Kiev province,
where he had the greatest number of serfs, tak-
ing with him full directions which he had writ-
ten down for his own guidance as to what he
should do on his estates.

When he reached Kiev he sent for all his
stewards to the head office and explained to
them his intentions and wishes. He told them
that steps would be taken immediately to free
his serfs and that till then they were not to be
overburdened with labor, women while nurs-
ing their babies were not to be sent to work,
assistance was to be given to the serfs, punish-
ments were to be admonitory and not corporal,
and hospitals, asylums, and schools were to be
established on all the estates. Some of the stew-
ards (there were semiliterate foremen among
them) listened with alarm, supposing these
words to mean that the young count was dis-
pleased with their management and embezzle-
ment of money, some after their first fright
were amused by Pierre's lisp and the new words
they had not heard before, others simply en-
joyed hearing how the master talked, while the
cleverest among them, including the chief
steward, understood from this speech how they
could best handle the master for their own
ends.

The chief steward expressed great sympathy
with Pierre's intentions, but remarked that be-
sides these changes it would be necessary to go
into the general state of affairs which was far
from satisfactory.

Despite Count Bezukhov's enormous wealth,
since he had come into an income which was
said to amount to five hundred thousand ru-
bles a year, Pierre felt himself far poorer than
when his father had made him an allowance
of ten thousand rubles. He had a dim percep-
tion of the following budget:

About 80,000 went in payments on all the
estates to the Land Bank, about 30,000 went
for the upkeep of the estate near Moscow, the
town house, and the allowance to the three
princesses; about 15,000 was given in pensions
and the same amount for asylums; 150,000 ali-
mony was sent to the countess; about 70,000



went for interest on debts. The building of a
new church, previously begun, had cost about
10,000 in each of the last two years, and he
did not know how the rest, about 100,000
rubles, was spent, and almost every year he was
obliged to borrow. Besides this the chief stew-
ard wrote every year telling him of fires and
bad harvests, or of the necessity of rebuild-
ing factories and workshops. So the first task
Pierre had to face was one for which he had
very little aptitude or inclination practical
business.

He discussed estate affairs every day with his
chief steward. But he felt that this did not for-
ward matters at all. He felt that these consulta-
tions were detached from real affairs and did
not link up with them or make them move. On
the one hand, the chief steward put the state of
things to him in the very worst light, pointing
out the necessity of paying off the debts and
undertaking new activities with serf labor, to
which Pierre did not agree. On the other hand,
Pierre demanded that steps should be taken to
liberate the serfs, which the steward met by
showing the necessity of first paying off the
loans from the Land Bank, and theconsequent
impossibility of a speedy emancipation.

The steward did not say it was quite impos-
sible, but suggested selling the forests in the
province of Kostroma, the land lower down
the river, and the Crimean estate, in order to
make it possible: all of which operations ac-
cording to him were connected with such com-
plicated measuresthe removal of injunctions,
petitions, permits, and so on that Pierre be-
came quite bewildered and only replied:

"Yes, yes, do so."

Pierre had none of the practical persistence
that would have enabled him to attend to the
business himself and so he disliked it and only
tried to pretend to the steward that he was at-
tending to it. The steward for his part tried to
pretend to the count that he considered these
consultations very valuable for the proprietor
and troublesome to himself.

In Kiev Pierre found some people he knew,
and strangers hastened to make his acquaint-
ance and joyfully welcomed the rich newcomer,
the largest landowner of the province. Temp-
tations to Pierre's greatest weakness the one
to which he had confessed when admitted to
the Lodge were so strong that he could not re-
sist them. Again whole days, weeks, and months
of his life passed in as great a rush and were as
much occupied with evening parties, dinners,
lunches, and balls, giving him no time for re-



212



WAR AND PEACE



flection, as in Petersburg. Instead of the new
life he had hoped to lead he still lived the old
life, only in new surroundings.

Of the three precepts of Freemasonry Pierre
realized that he did not fulfill the one which
enjoined every Mason to set an example of
moral life, and that of the seven virtues he
lacked two morality and the love of death. He
consoled himself with the thought that he ful-
filled another of the precepts that of reform-
ing the human race and had other virtues-
love of his neighbor, and especially generosity.

In the spring of 1807 he decided to return to
Petersburg. On the way he intended to visit
all his estates and see for himself how far his
orders had been carried out and in what state
were the serfs whom God had entrusted to his
care and whom he intended to benefit.

The chief steward, who considered the young
count's attempts almost insane unprofitable
to himself, to the count, and to the serfs made
some concessions. Continuing to represent the
liberation of the serfs as impracticable, he ar-
ranged for the erection of large buildings-
schools, hospitals, and asylums on all the es-
tates before the master arrived. Everywhere
preparations were made not for ceremonious
welcomes (which he knew Pierre would not
like), but for just such gratefully religious ones,
with offerings of icons and the bread and salt
of hospitality, as, according to his understand-
ing of his master, would touch and delude him.

The southern spring, the comfortable rapid
traveling in a Vienna carriage, and the soli-
tude of the road, all had a gladdening effect on
Pierre. The estates he had not before visited
were each more picturesque than the other;
the serfs everywhere seemed thriving and touch-
ingly grateful for the benefits conferred on
them. Everywhere were receptions, which
though they embarrassed Pierre awakened a
joyful feeling in the depth of his heart. In one
place the peasants presented him with bread
and salt and an icon of Saint Peter and Saint
Paul, asking permission, as a mark of their
gratitude for the benefits he had conferred on
them, to build a new chantry to the church at
their own expense in honor of Peter and Paul,
his patron saints. In another place the women
with infants in arms met him to thank him for
releasing them from hard work. On a third es-
tate the priest, bearing a cross, came to meet
him surrounded by children whom, by the
count's generosity, he was instructing in read-
ing, writing, and religion. On all his estates
Pierre saw with his own eyes brick buildings



erected or in course of erection, all on one
plan, for hospitals, schools, and almshouses,
which were soon to be opened. Everywhere he
saw the stewards' accounts, according to which
the serfs' manorial labor had been diminished,
and heard the touching thanks of deputations
of serfs in their full-skirted blue coats.

What Pierre did not know was that the place
where they presented him with bread and salt
and wished to build a chantry in honor of
Peter and Paul was a market village where a
fair was held on St. Peter's day, and that the
richest peasants (who formed the deputation)
had begun the chantry long before, but that
nine tenths of the peasants in that village were
in a state of the greatest poverty. He did not
know that since the nursing mothers were no
longer sent to work on his land, they did still
harder work on their own land. He did not
know that the priest who met him with the
cross oppressed the peasants by his exactions,
and that the pupils' parents wept at having to
let him take their children and secured their
release by heavy payments. He did not know
that the brick buildings, built to plan, were
being built by serfs whose manorial labor was
thus increased, though lessened on paper. He
did not know that where the steward had
shown him in the accounts that the serfs' pay-
ments had been diminished by a third, their
obligatory manorial work had been increased
by a half. And so Pierre was delighted with his
visit to his estates and quite recovered the phil-
anthropic mood in which he had left Peters-
burg, and wrote enthusiastic letters to his
"brother-instructor" as he called the Grand
Master.

"How easy it is, how little effort it needs, to
do so much good," thought Pierre, "and how
little attention we pay to itl"

He was pleased at the gratitude he received,
but felt abashed at receiving it. This gratitude
reminded him of how much more he might do
for these simple, kindly people.

The chief steward, a very stupid but cun-
ning man who saw perfectly through the nai've
and intelligent count and played with him as
with a toy, seeing the effect these prearranged
receptions had on Pierre, pressed him still
harder with proofs of the impossibility and
above all the uselessness of freeing the serfs,
who were quite happy as it was.

Pierre in his secret soul agreed with the stew-
ard that it would be difficult to imagine hap-
pier people, and that God only knew what
would happen to them when they were free,



BOOK FIVE



but he insisted, though reluctantly, on what he
thought right. The steward promised to do all
in his power to carry out the count's wishes,
seeing clearly that not only would the count
never be able to find out whether all measures
had been taken for the sale of the land and
forests and to release them from the Land Bank,
but would probably never even inquire and
would never know that the newly erected build-
ings were standing empty and that the serfs
continued to give in money and work all that
other people's serfs gave that is to say, all that
could be got out of them.

CHAPTER XI

RETURNING FROM his journey through South
Russia in the happiest state of mind, Pierre
carried out an intention he had long had of
visiting his friend Bolk6nski, whom he had not
seen for two years.

Bogucharovo lay in a flat uninteresting part
of the country among fields and forests of fir
and birch, which were partly cut down. The
house lay behind a newly dug pond filled with
water to the brink and with banks still bare of
grass. It was at the end of a village that stretched
along the highroad in the midst of a young
copse in which were a few fir trees.

The homestead consisted of a threshing floor,
outhouses, stables, a bathhouse, a lodge, and a
large brick house with semicircular facade still
in course of construction. Round the house
was a garden newly laid out. The fences and
gates were new and solid; two fire pumps and a
water cart, painted green, stood in a shed; the
paths were straight, the bridges were strong
and had handrails. Everything bore an impress
of tidiness and good management. Some do-
mestic serfs Pierre met, in reply to inquiries as
to where the prince lived, pointed out a small
newly built lodge close to the pond. Ant6n, a
man who had looked after Prince Andrew in
his boyhood, helped Pierre out of his carriage,
said that the prince was at home, and showed
him into a clean little anteroom.

Pierre was struck by the modesty of the small
though clean house after the brilliant surround-
ings in which he had last met his friend in
Petersburg.

He quickly entered the small reception room
with its sdll-un plastered wooden walls redo-
lent of pine, and would have gone farther, but
Ant6n ran ahead on tiptoe and knocked at a
door.

"Well, what is it?" came a sharp, unpleasant
voice.



"A visitor," answered Ant6n.

"Ask him to wait," and the sound was heard
of a chair being pushed back.

Pierre went with rapid steps to the door and
suddenly came face to face with Prince An-
drew, who came out frowning and looking old.
Pierre embraced him and lifting his spectacles
kissed his friend on the cheek and looked at
him closely.

"Well, I did not expect you, I am very glad,"
said Prince Andrew.

Pierre said nothing; he looked fixedly at his
friend with surprise. He was struck by the
change in him. His words were kindly and
there was a smile on his lips and face, but his
eyes were dull and lifeless and in spite of his
evident wish to do so he could not give them a
joyous and glad sparkle. Prince Andrew had
grown thinner, paler, and more manly-looking,
but what amazed and estranged Pierre till he
got used to it were his inertia and a wrinkle on
his brow indicating prolonged concentration
on some one thought.

As is usually the case with people meeting
after a prolonged separation, it was long be-
fore their conversation could settle on any-
thing. They put questions and gave brief re-
plies about things they knew ought to be talked
over at length. At last the conversation gradu-
ally settled on some of the topics at first lightly
touched on: their past life, plans for the fu-
ture, Pierre's journeys and occupations, the
war, and so on. The preoccupation and de-
spondency which Pierre had noticed in his
friend's look was now still more clearly ex-
pressed in the smile with which he listened to
Pierre, especially when he spoke with joyful
animation of the past or the future. It was as if
Prince Andrew would have liked to sympathize
with what Pierre was saying, but could not.
The latter began to feel that it was in bad taste
to speak of his enthusiasms, dreams, and hopes
of happiness or goodness, in Prince Andrew's
presence. He was ashamed to express his new
Masonic views, which had been particularly re-
vived and strengthened by his late tour. He
checked himself, fearing to seem naive, yet he
felt an irresistible desire to show his friend as
soon as possible that he was now a quite dif-
ferent, and better, Pierre than he had been in
Petersburg.

"I can't tell you how much I have lived
through since then. I hardly know myself
again."

"Yes, we have altered much, very much, since
then," said Prince Andrew.



214

"Well, and you? What are your plans?"

"Plans!" repeated Prince Andrew ironically.
"My plans?" he said, as if astonished at the
word. "Well, you see, I'm building. I mean to
settle here altogether next year "

Pierre looked silently and searchingly into
Prince Andrew's face, which had grown much
older.

"No, I meant to ask . . ." Pierre began, but
Prince Andrew interrupted him.

"But why talk of me? . . . Talk to me, yes, tell
me about your travels and all you have been
doing on your estates."

Pierre began describing what he had done
on his estates, trying as far as possible to con-
ceal his own part in the improvements that
had been made. Prince Andrew several times
prompted Pierre's story of what he had been
doing, as though it were all an old-time story,
and he listened not only without interest but
even as if ashamed of what Pierre was telling
him.

Pierre felt uncomfortable and even depressed
in his friend's company and at last became si-
lent.

"I'll tell you what, my dear fellow," said
Prince Andrew, who evidently also felt de-
pressed and constrained with his visitor, "I am
only bivouacking here and have just come to
look round. I am going back to my sister today.
I will introduce you to her. But of course you
know her already," he said, evidently trying to
entertain a visitor with whom he now found
nothing in common. "We will go after dinner.
And would you now like to look round my
place?"

They went out and walked about till din-
nertime, talking of the political news and com-
mon acquaintances like people who do not
know each other intimately. Prince Andrew
spoke with some animation and interest only
of the new homestead he was constructing and
its buildings, but even here, while on the scaf-
folding, in the midst of a talk explaining the
future arrangements of the house, he inter-
rupted himself:

"However, this is not at all interesting. Let
us have dinner, and then we'll set off."

At dinner, conversation turned on Pierre's
marriage.

"I was very much surprised when I heard
of it," said Prince Andrew.

Pierre blushed, as he always did when it was
mentioned, and said hurriedly: "I will tell you
some time how it all happened. But you know
it is all over, and forever."



WAR AND PEACE

" "Forever?" said Prince Andrew. "Nothing's
forever."

"But you know how it all ended, don't you?
You heard of the duel?"

"And so you had to go through that tool"

"One thing I thank God for is that I did not
kill that man," said Pierre.

"Why so?" asked Prince Andrew. "To kill a
vicious dog is a very good thing really."

"No, to kill a man is bad wrong."

"Why is it wrong?" urged Prince Andrew.
"It is not given to man to know what is right
and what is wrong. Men always did and always
will err, and in nothing more than in what
they consider right and wrong."

"What does harm to another is wrong," said
Pierre, feeling with pleasure that for the first
time since his arrival Prince Andrew was roused,
had begun to talk, and wanted to express what
had brought him to his present state.

"And who has told you what is bad for an-
other man?" he asked.

"Bad! Bad!" exclaimed Pierre. "We all know
what is bad for ourselves."

"Yes, we know that, but the harm I am con-
scious of in myself is something I cannot in-
flict on others," said Prince Andrew, growing
more and more animated and evidently wish-
ing to express his new outlook to Pierre. He
spoke in French. "I only know two very real evils
in life: remorse and illness. The only good is
the absence of those evils. To live for myself
avoiding those two evils is my whole philoso-
phy now."

"And love of one's neighbor, and self-sacri-
fice?" began Pierre. "No, I can't agree with
you! To live only so as not to do evil and not
to have to repent is not enough. I lived like
that, I lived for myself and ruined my life. And
only now when I am living, or at least trying"
(Pierre's modesty made him correct himself)
"to live for others, only now have I understood
all the happiness of life. No, I shall not agree
with you, and you do not really believe what
you are saying." Prince Andrew looked silently
at Pierre with an ironic smile.

"When you sec ,my sister, Princess Mary,
you'll get on with her," he said. "Perhaps you
are right for yourself," he added after a short
pause, "but everyone lives in his own way. You
lived for yourself and say you nearly ruined
your life and only found happiness when you
began living for others. I experienced just the
reverse. I lived for glory. And after all what is
glory? The same love of others, a desire to do
something for them, a desire for their approv-



BOOK FIVE



215



al. So I lived for others, and not almost, but
quite, ruined my life. And I have become calm-
er since I began to live only for myself."

"But what do you mean by living only for
yourself?" asked Pierre, growing excited.
"What about your son, your sister, and your
father?"

"But that's just the same as myself they are
not others" explained Prince Andrew. "The
others, one's neighbors, le prochain, as you and
Princess Mary call it, are the chief source of
all error and evil. Le prochain your Kiev
peasants to whom you want to do good."

And he looked at Pierre with a mocking,
challenging expression. He evidently wished
to draw him on.

"You are joking," replied Pierre, growing
more and more excited. "What error or evil
can there be in my wishing to do good, and
even doing a littlethough I did very little and
did it very badly? What evil can there be in it
if unfortunate people, our serfs, people like
ourselves, were growing up and dying with no
idea of God and truth beyond ceremonies and
meaningless prayers and are now instructed in
a comforting belief in future life, retribution,
recompense, and consolation? What evil and
error are there in it, if people were dying of
disease without help while material assistance
could so easily be rendered, and I supplied
them with a doctor, a hospital, and an asylum
for the aged? And is it not a palpable, unques-
tionable good if a peasant, or a woman with a
baby, has no rest day or night and I give them
rest and leisure?" said Pierre, hurrying and
lisping. "And I have done that though badly
and to a small extent; but I have done some-
thing toward it and you cannot persuade me
that it was not a good action, and more than
that, you can't make me believe that you do
not think so yourself. And the main thing is,"
he continued, "that I know, and know for cer-
tain, that the enjoyment of doing this good is
the only sure happiness in life."

"Yes, if you put it like that it's quite a dif-
ferent matter," said Prince Andrew. "I build a
house and lay out a garden, and you build
hospitals. The one and the other may serve as
a pastime. But what's right and what's good
must be judged by one who knows all, but not
by us. Well, you want an argument," he added,
"come on then."

They rose from the table and sat down in
the entrance porch which served as a veranda.

"Come, let's argue then," said Prince An-
drew. "You talk of schools," he went on, crook-



ing a finger, "education and so forth; that is,
you want to raise him" (pointing to a peasant
who passed by them taking off his cap) "from
his animal condition and awaken in him spir-
itual needs, while it seems to me that animal
happiness is the only happiness possible, and
that is just what you want to deprive him of. I
envy him, but you want to make him what I
am, without giving him my means. Then you
say, 'lighten his toil.' But as I see it, physical
labor is as essential to him, as much a condi-
tion of his existence, as mental activity is to
you or me. You can't help thinking. I go to bed
after two in the morning, thoughts come and
I can't sleep but toss about till dawn, because
I think and can't help thinking, just as he
can't help plowing and mowing; if he didn't,
he would go to the drink shop or fall ill. Just
as I could not stand his terrible physical labor
but should die of it in a week, so he could not
stand my physical idleness, but would grow
fat and die. The third thing what else was it
you talked about?" and Prince Andrew crooked
a third finger. "Ah, yes, hospitals, medicine.
He has a fit, he is dying, and you come and
bleed him and patch him up. He will drag
about as a cripple, a burden to everybody, for
another ten years. It would be far easier and
simpler for him to die. Others are being born
and there are plenty of them as it is. It would
be different if you grudged losing a laborer
that's how I regard him but you want to cure
him from love of him. And he does not want
that. And besides, what a notion that medicine
ever cured anyonel Killed them, yes!" said he,
frowning angrily and turning away from Pierre.

Prince Andrew expressed his ideas so clearly
and distinctly that it was evident he had re-
flected on this subject more than once, and he
spoke readily and rapidly like a man who has
not talked for a long time. His glance became
more animated as his conclusions became more
hopeless.

"Oh, that is dreadful, dreadful!" said Pierre.
"I don't understand how one can live with
such ideas. I had such moments myself not long
ago, in Moscow and when traveling, but at
such times I collapsed so that I don't live at all
everything seems hateful to me . . . myself
most of all. Then I don't eat, don't wash . . .
and how is it with you? . . ."

"Why not wash? That is not cleanly," said
Prince Andrew; "on the contrary one must try
to make one's life as pleasant as possible. I'm
alive, that is not my fault, so I must live out
my life as best I can without hurting others."



2l6



WAR AND PEACE



"But with such ideas what motive have you
for living? One would sit without moving, un-
dertaking nothing "

"Life as it is leaves one no peace. I should be
thankful to do nothing, but here on the one
hand the local nobility have done me the hon-
or to choose me to be their marshal; it was all
I could do to get out of it. They could not un-
derstand that I have not the necessary qualifi-
cations for it the kind of good-natured, fussy
shallowness necessary for the position. Then
there's this house, which must be built in or-
der to have a nook of one's own in which to be
quiet. And now there's this recruiting."

"Why aren't you serving in the army?"

"After Austerlitz!" said Prince Andrew
gloomily. "No, thank you very much! I have
promised myself not to serve again in the ac-
tive Russian army. And I won't not even if
Bonaparte were here at Smolensk threatening
Bald Hills even then I wouldn't serve in the
Russian armyl Well, as I was saying," he con-
tinued, recovering his composure, "now there's
this recruiting. My father is chief in command
of the Third District, and my only way of
avoiding active service is to serve under him."

"Then you are serving?"

"I am."

He paused a little while.

"And why do you serve?"

"Why, for this reason! My father is one of
the most remarkable men of his time. But he
is growing old, and though not exactly cruel
he has too energetic a character. He is so ac-
customed to unlimited power that he is terri-
ble, and now he has this authority of a com-
mander in chief of the recruiting, granted by
the Emperor. If I had been two hours late a
fortnight ago he would have had a paymaster's
clerk at Yiikhnovna hanged," said Prince An-
drew with a smile. "So I am serving because I
alone have any influence with my father, and
now and then can save him from actions which
would torment him afterwards."

"Well, there you see!"

"Yes, but it is not as you imagine," Prince
Andrew continued. "I did not, and do not, in
the least care about that scoundrel of a clerk
who had stolen some boots from the recruits;
I should even have been very glad to see him
hanged, but I was sorry for my father that
again is for myself."

Prince Andrew grew more and more ani-
mated. His eyes glittered feverishly while he
tried to prove to Pierre that in his actions there
was no desire to do good to his neighbor.



"There now, you wish to liberate your serfs,"
he continued; "that is a very good thing, but
not for you I don't suppose you ever had any-
one flogged or sent to Siberia and still less for
your serfs. If they are beaten, flogged, or sent
to Siberia, I don't suppose they are any the
worse off. In Siberia they lead the same animal
life, and the stripes on their bodies heal, and
they are happy as before. But it is a good thing
for proprietors who perish morally, bring re-
morse upon themselves, stifle this remorse and
grow callous, as a result of being able to inflict
punishments justly and unjustly. It is those peo-
ple I pity, and for their sake I should like to
liberate the serfs. You may not have seen, but I
have seen, how good men brought up in those
traditions of unlimited power, in time when
they grow more irritable, become cruel and
harsh, are conscious of it, but cannot restrain
themselves and grow more and more misera-
ble."

Prince Andrew spoke so earnestly that Pierre
could not help thinking that these thoughts
had been suggested to Prince Andrew by his
father's case.

He did not reply.

"So that's what I'm sorry for human dignity,
peace of mind, purity, arid not the serfs' backs
and foreheads, which, beat and shave as you
may, always remain the same backs and fore-
heads."

"No, no! A thousand times no! I shall never
agree with you," said Pierre.

CHAPTER XII

IN THE EVENING Andrew and Pierre got into the
open carriage and drove to Bald Hills. Prince
Andrew, glancing at Pierre, broke the silence
now and then with remarks which showed that
he was in a good temper.

Pointing to the fields, he spoke of the im-
provements he was making in his husbandry.

Pierre remained gloomily silent, answering
in monosyllables and apparently immersed in
his own thoughts.

He was thinking that Prince Andrew was
unhappy, had gone astray, did not see the true
light, and that he, Pierre, ought to aid, en-
lighten, and raise him. But as soon as he
thought of what he should say, he felt that
Prince Andrew with one word, one argument,
would upset all his teaching, and he shrank
from beginning, afraid of exposing to possible
ridicule what to him was precious and sacred.

"No, but why do you think so?" Pierre sud-
denly began, lowering his head and looking



BOOK FIVE



217



like a bull about to charge, "why do you think
so? You should not think so."

"Think? What about?" asked Prince Andrew
with surprise.

"About life, about man's destiny. It can't be
so. I myself thought like that, and do you know
what saved me? Freemasonry! No, don't smile.
Freemasonry is not a religious ceremonial sect,
as I thought it was: Freemasonry is the best ex-
pression of the best, the eternal, aspects of hu-
manity."

And he began to explain Freemasonry as he
understood it to Prince Andrew. He said that
Freemasonry is the teaching of Christianity
freed from the bonds of State and Church, a
teaching of equality, brotherhood, and love.

"Only our holy brotherhood has the real
meaning of life, all the rest is a dream," said
Pierre. "Understand, my dear fellow, that out-
side this union all is filled with deceit and
falsehood and I agree with you that nothing is
left for an intelligent and good man but to
live out his life, like you, merely trying not to
harm others. But make our fundamental con-
victions your own, join our brotherhood, give
yourself up to us, let yourself be guided, and
you will at once feel yourself, as I have felt my-
self, a part of that vast invisible chain the be-
ginning of which is hidden in heaven," said
Pierre.

Prince Andrew, looking straight in front of
him, listened in silence to Pierre's words. More
than once, when the noise of the wheels pre-
vented his catching wliat Pierre said, he asked
him to repeat it, and by the peculiar glow that
came into Prince Andrew's eyes and by his
silence, Pierre saw that his words were not in
vain and that Prince Andrew would not in-
terrupt him or laugh at what he said.

They reached a river that had overflowed its
banks and which they had to cross by ferry.
While the carriage and horses were beingplaced
on it, they also stepped on the raft.

Prince Andrew, leaning his arms on the raft
railing, gazed silently at the flooding waters
glittering in the setting sun.

"Well, what do you think about it?" Pierre
asked. "Why are you silent?"

"What do I think about it? I am listening to
you. It's all very well. . . . You say: join our
brotherhood and we will show you the aim of
life, the destiny of man, and the laws which gov-
ern the world. But who are we? Men. How is it
you know everything? Why do I alone not see
what you see? You see a reign of goodness and
truth on earth, but I don't see it."



Pierre interrupted him.

"Do you believe in a future life?" he asked.

"A futurelife?" Prince Andrew repeated, but
Pierre, giving him no time to reply, took the
repetition for a denial, the more readily as he
knew Prince Andrew's former atheistic con-
victions.

"You say you can't see a reign of goodness
and truth on earth. Nor could I, and it can-
not be seen if one looks on our life here as the
end of everything. On earth f here on this earth"
(Pierre pointed to the fields), "there is no
truth, all is false and evil; but in the universe,
in the whole universe, there is a kingdom of
truth, and we who are now the children of
earth are eternallychildren of the whole uni-
verse. Don't I feel in my soul that I am part of
this vast harmonious whole? Don't I feel that
I form one link, one step, between the lower
and higher beings, in this vast harmonious mul-
titude of beings in whom the Deity the Su-
preme Power if you prefer the term is mani-
fest? If I see, clearly see, that ladder leading
from plant to man, why should I suppose it
breaks off at me and does not go farther and
farther? I feel that I cannot vanish, since noth-
ing vanishes in this world, but that I shall al-
ways exist and always have existed. I feel that
beyond me and above me there are spirits, and
that in this world there is truth."

"Yes, that is Herder's theory," said Prince
Andrew, "but it is not that which can convince
me, dear friend life and death are what con-
vince. What convinces is when one sees a be-
ing dear to one, bound up with one's own life,
before whom one was to blame and had hoped
to make it right" (Prince Andrew's voice trem-
bled and he turned away), "and suddenly that
being is seized with pain, suffers, and ceases to
exist. . . . Why? It cannot be that there is no

answer. And I believe there is That's what

convinces, that is what has convinced me," said
Prince Andrew.

"Yes, yes, of course," said Pierre, "isn't that
what I'm saying?"

"No. All I say is that it is not argument that
convinces me of the necessity of a future life,
but this: when you go hand in hand with some-
one and all at once that person vanishes there,
into nowhere, and you yourself are left facing
that abyss, and look in. And I have looked
in. . . ."

"Well, that's it then! You know that there is
a there and there is a Someone? There is the
future life. The Someone is God."

Prince Andrew did not reply. The carriage



2l8



WAR AND PEACE



and horses had long since been taken off, onto
the farther bank, and reharnessed. The sun
had sunk half below the horizon and an eve-
ning frost was starring the puddles near the fer-
ry, but Pierre and Andrew, to the astonishment
of the footmen, coachmen, and ferrymen, still
stood on the raft and talked.

"If there is a God and future life, there is
truth and good, and man's highest happiness
consists in striving to attain them. We must
live, we must love, and we must believe that we
live not only today on this scrap of earth, but
have lived and shall live forever, there, in the
Whole," said Pierre, and he pointed to the sky.

Prince Andrew stood leaning on the railing
of theraft listening to Pierre, and he gazed with
his eyes fixed on the red reflection of the sun
gleaming on the blue waters. There was per-
fect stillness. Pierre became silent. The raft had
long since stopped and only the waves of the
current beat softly against it below. Prince An-
drew felt as if the sound of the waves kept up
a refrain to Pierre's words, whispering:

"It is true, believe it."

He sighed, and glanced with a radiant, child-
like, tender look at Pierre's face, flushed and
rapturous, but yet shy before his superior
friend.

"Yes, if it only were sol "said Prince Andrew.
"However, it is time to get on," he added, and,
stepping off the raft, he looked up at the sky
to which Pierre had pointed, and for the first
time since Austerlitz saw that high, everlasting
sky he had seen while lying on that battlefield;
and something that had long been slumbering,
something that was best within him, sudden-
ly awoke, joyful and youthful, in his soul. It
vanished as soon as he returned to the custom-
ary conditions of his life, but he knew that this
feeling which he did not know how to develop
existed within him. His meeting with Pierre
formed an epoch in Prince Andrew's life.
Though outwardly he continued to live in the
same old way, inwardly he began a new life.

CHAPTER XIII

IT WAS getting dusk when Prince Andrew and
Pierre drove up to the front entrance of the
house at Bald Hills. As they approached the
house, Prince Andrew with a smile drew Pierre's
attention to a commotion going on at the back
porch. A woman, bent with age, with a wallet
on her back, and a short, long-haired, young
man in a black garment had rushed back to the
gate on seeing the carriage driving up. Two
women ran out after them, and all four, look-



ing round at the carriage, ran in dismay up the
steps of the back porch.

"Those are Mary's 'God's folk,' " said Prince
Andrew. "They have mistaken us for my father.
This is the one matter in which she disobeys
him. He orders these pilgrims to be driven
away, but she receives them."

"But what are 'God's folk'?" asked Pierre.

Prince Andrew had no time to answer. The
servants came out to meet them, and he asked
where the old prince was and whether he was
expected back soon.

The old prince had gone to the town and was
expected back any minute.

Prince Andrew led Pierre to his own apart-
ments, which were always kept in perfect order
and readiness for him in his father's house; he
himself went to the nursery.

"Let us go and see my sister," he said to
Pierre when he returned. "I have not found
her yet, she is hiding now, sitting with her
'God's folk.' It will serve her right, she will be
confused, but you will see her 'God's folk.' It's
really very curious."

"What are 'God's folk'?" asked Pierre.

"Come, and you'll see for yourself."

Princess Mary really was disconcerted and
red patches came on her face when they went
in. In her snug room, with lamps burning be-
fore the icon stand, a young lad with a long
nose and long hair, wearing a monk's cassock,
sat on the sofa beside her, behind a samovar.
Near them, in an armchair, sat a thin, shriveled,
old woman, with a meek expression on her
childlike face.

"Andrew, why didn't you warn me?" said the
princess, with mild reproach, as she stood be-
fore her pilgrims like a hen before her chick-
ens.

"Charmde de vous voir. Je suis trs contente
de vous voir" l she said to Pierre as he kissed
her hand. She had known him as a child, and
now his friendship with Andrew, his misfor-
tune with his wife, and above all his kindly,
simple face disposed her favorably toward him.
She looked at him with her beautiful radiant
eyes and seemed to say, "I like you very much,
but please don't laugh at my people." After
exchanging the first greetings, they sat down.

"Ah, and Ivdnushka is here tool" said Prince
Andrew, glancing with a smile at the young
pilgrim.

"Andrew!" said Princess Mary, imploringly.
"// faut que vous sachiez que c'cst une

1 "Delighted to see you. I am very glad to sec
you."



BOOK FIVE



219



fcmme" l said Prince Andrew to Pierre.

"Andrew, au nom de Dieu!" a Princess Mary
repeated.

It was evident that Prince Andrew's ironical
tone toward the pilgrims and Princess Mary's
helpless attempts to protect them were their
customary long-established relations on the
matter.

"Maw, ma bonne ami*/' said Prince Andrew,
"vous devriez au contraire m'Stre reconnais-
sante de ce que j'explique d Pierre votre inti-
mite 1 avec ce jeune homme" *

"Really?" said Pierre, gazing over his spec-
tacles with curiosity and seriousness (forwhich
Princess Mary was specially grateful to him)
into Ivanushka's face, who, seeing that she was
being spoken about, looked round at them all
with crafty eyes.

Princess Mary's embarrassment on her peo-
ple's account was quite unnecessary. They were
not in the least abashed. The old woman, low-
ering her eyes but casting side glances at the
newcomers, had turned her cup upside down
and placed a nibbled bit of sugar beside it, and
sat quietly in her armchair, though hoping to
be offered another cup of tea. Ivdnushka, sip-
ping out of her saucer, looked with sly woman-
ish eyes from under her brows at the young
men.

"Where have you been? To Kiev?" Prince
Andrew asked the old woman.

"I have, good sir," she answered garrulously.
"Just at Christmastime I was deemed worthy to
partake of the holy and heavenly sacrament at
the shrine of the saint. And now I'm from Kol-
yzin, master, where a great and wonderful
blessing has been revealed."

"And was Ivanushka with you?"

"I go by myself, benefactor," said Ivdnushka,
trying to speak in a bass voice. "I only came
across Pelage*ya in Yiikhnovo. . . ."

Pelage*ya interrupted her companion; she
evidently wished to tell what she had seen.

"In Kolydzin, master, a wonderful blessing
has been revealed."

"What is it? Some new relics?" asked Prince
Andrew.

"Andrew, do leave off," said Princess Mary.
"Don't tell him, Pelagya."

"No . . . why not, my dear, why shouldn't I?
I like him. He is kind, he is one of God's cho-

1 "You must know that this is a woman."

* "For heaven's sake."

* "But, my dear, you ought on the contrary to be
grateful to me for explaining to Pierre your inti-
macy with this young man."



sen, he's a benefactor, he once gave me ten ru-
bles, I remember. When I was in Kiev, Crazy
Cyril says to me (he's one of God's own and
goes barefoot summer and winter), he says,
'Why are you not going to the right place? Go
to Kolyizin where a wonder-working icon of
the Holy Mother of God has been revealed.'
On hearing those words I said good-by to the
holy folk and went."

All were silent, only the pilgrim woman
went on in measured tones, drawing in her
breath.

"So I come, master, and the people say tome:
'A great blessing has been revealed, holy oil
trickles from the cheeks of our blessed Mother,
the Holy Virgin Mother of God.' . . ."

"All right, all right, you can tell us after-
wards," said Princess Mary, flushing.

"Let me ask her," said Pierre. "Did you see
it yourselves?" he inquired.

"Oh, yes, master, I was found worthy. Such a
brightness on the face like the light of heaven,
and from the blessed Mother's cheek it drops
and drops. . . ."

"But, dear me, that must be a fraud!" said
Pierre, naively, who had listened attentively to
the pilgrim.

"Oh, master, what are you say ing?" exclaimed
the horrified Pelage* ya, turn ing to Princess Mary
for support.

"They impose on the people," he repeated.

"Lord Jesus Christ!" exclaimed the pilgrim
Woman, crossing herself. "Oh, don't speak so,
master 1 There was a general who did not be-
lieve, and said, 'The monks cheat,' and as soon
as he'd said it he went blind. And he dreamed
that the Holy Virgin Mother of the Kiev cata-
combs came to him and said, 'Believe in meand
I will make you whole.' So he begged: 'Take
me to her, take me to her.' It's the real truth
I'm telling you, I saw it myself. So he was
brought, quite blind, straight to her, and he
goes up to her and falls down and says, 'Make
me whole,' says he, 'and I'll give thee what the
Tsar bestowed on me.' I saw it myself, master,
the star is fixed into the icon. Well, and what
do you think? He received his sight! It's a sin
to speak so. God will punish you," she said ad-
monishingly, turning to Pierre.

"How did the star get into the icon?" Pierre
asked.

"And was the Holy Mother promoted to the
rank of general?" said Prince Andrew, with a
smile.

Pelagc*ya suddenly grew quite pale and
clasped her hands.



220



WAR AND PEACE



"Oh, master, master, what a sin! And you
who have a son I" she began, her pallor sud-
denly turning to a vivid red. "Master, what
have you said? God forgive you!" And she
crossed herself. "Lord forgive him! My dear,
what does it mean? . . ." she asked, turning to
Princess Mary. She got up and, almost crying,
began to arrange her wallet. She evidently felt
frightened and ashamed to have accepted char-
ity in a house where such things could be said,
and was at the same time sorry to have now to
forgo the charity of this house.

"Now, why need you do it?" said Princess
Mary. "Why did you come to me? . . ."

"Come, Pelagdya, I was joking," said Pierre.
"Princesse, ma parole, je n'ai pas voulu Voffen-
jer. 1 1 did not mean anything, I wasonlyjoking,"
he said, smiling shyly and trying to efface his
offense. "It was all my fault, and Andrew was
only joking."

Pelag^ya stopped doubtfully, but in Pierre's
face there was such a look of sincere penitence,
and Prince Andrew glanced so meekly now at
her and now at Pierre, that she was gradually
reassured.

CHAPTER XIV

THE PILGRIM WOMAN was appeased and, being
encouraged to talk, gave a long account of Fa-
ther Amphilochus, who led so holy a life that
his hands smelled of incense, and how on her
last visit to Kiev some monks she knew let her
have the keys of the catacombs, and how she,
taking some dried bread with her, had spent
two days in the catacombs with the saints. "I'd
pray awhile to one, ponder awhile, then go on
to another. I'd sleep a bit and then again go
and kiss the relics, and there was such peace all
around, such blessedness, that one don't want
to come out, even into the light of heaven
again."

Pierre listened to her attentively and serious-
ly. Prince Andrew went out of the room, and
then, leaving "God's folk" to finish their tea,
Princess Mary took Pierre into the drawing
room.

"You are very kind," she said to him.

"Oh, I really did not mean to hurt her feel-
ings. I understand them so well and have the
greatest respect for them."

Princess Mary looked at him silently and
smiled affectionately.

"I have known you a long time, you see, and
am as fond of you as of a brother," she said.

1 "Princess, on my word, I did not wish to offend
her/'



"How do you find Andrew?" she added hur-
riedly, not giving him time to reply to her af-
fectionate words. "I am very anxious about
him. His health was better in the winter, but
last spring his wound reopened and the doctor
said he ought to go away for a cure. And I am
also very much afraid for him spiritually. He
has not a character like us women who, when
we suffer, can weep away our sorrows. He keeps
it all within him. Today he is cheerful and in
good spirits, but that is the effect of your visit
he is not often like that. If you could per-
suade him to go abroad. He needs activity, and
this quiet regular life is very bad for him. Oth-
ers don't notice it, but I see it."

Toward ten o'clock the menservants rushed
to the front door, hearing the bells of the old
prince's carriage approaching. Prince Andrew
and Pierre also went out into the porch.

"Who's that?" asked the old prince, notic-
ing Pierre as he got out of the carriage.

"Ah! Very glad! Kiss me," he said, having
learned who the young stranger was.

The old prince was in a good temper and
very gracious to Pierre.

Before supper, Prince Andrew, coming back
to his father's study, found him disputing hot-
ly with his visitor. Pierre was maintaining that
a time would come when there would be no
more wars. The old prince disputed it chaffing-
ly, but without getting angry.

"Drain the blood from men's veins and put
in water instead, then there will be no more
war! Old women's nonsense old women's
nonsense!" he repeated, but still he patted
Pierre affectionately on the shoulder, and then
went up to the table where Prince Andrew, ev-
idently not wishing to join in the conversation,
was looking over the papers his father had
brought from town. The old prince went up to
him and began to talk business.

"The marshal, a Count Rost6v, hasn't sent
half his contingent. He came to town and
wanted to invite me to dinner I gave him a
pretty dinner! . . . And there, look at this. . . .
Well, my boy," the old prince went on, address-
ing his son and patting Pierre on the shoulder.
"A fine fellow your friend I like him! He
stirs me up. Another says clever things and one
doesn't care to listen, but this one talks rub-
bish yet stirs an old fellow up. Well, go! Get
along! Perhaps I'll come and sit with you at
supper. We'll have another dispute. Make
friends with my little fool, Princess Mary," he
shouted after Pierre, through the door.

Only now, on his visit to Bald Hills, did



BOOK FIVE



Pierre fully realize the strength and charm of
his friendship with Prince Andrew. That charm
was not expressed so much in his relations with
him as with all his family and with the house-
hold. With the stern old prince and the gen-
tle, timid Princess Mary, though he had scarce-
ly known them, Pierre at once felt like an old
friend. They were all fond of him already. Not
only Princess Mary, who had been won by his
gentleness with the pilgrims, gave him her most
radiant looks, but even the one-year-old "Prince
Nicholas" (as his grandfather called him)
smiled at Pierre and let himself be taken in his
arms, and Michael Ivdnovich and Mademoi-
selle Bourienne looked at him with pleasant
smiles when he talked to the old prince.

The old prince came in to supper; this was
evidently on Pierre's account. And during the
two days of the young man's visit he was ex-
tremely kind to him and told him to visit them
again.

When Pierre had gone and the members of
the household met together, they began to ex-
prtss their opinions of him as people always
do after a new acquaintance has left, but as
seldom happens, no one said anything but
what was good of him.

CHAPTER XV

WHEN RETURNING from his leave, Rostov felt,
for the first time, how close was the bond that
united him to Denfsovand the whole regiment.

On approaching it, Rost6v felt as he had
done when approaching his home in Moscow.
When he saw the first hussar with the unbut-
toned uniform of his regiment, when he rec-
ognized red-haired Dem^ntyev and saw the
picket ropes of the roan horses, when Lavru-
shka gleefully shouted to his master, "The
count has cornel" and Denfsov, who had been
asleep on his bed, ran all disheveled out of the
mud hut to embrace him, and the officers col-
lected round to greet the new arrival, Rostov
experienced the same feeling as when his moth-
er, his father, and his sister had embraced him,
and tears of joy choked him so that he could
not speak. The regiment was also a home, and
as unalterably dear and precious as his parents'
house.

When he had reported himself to the com-
mander of the regiment and had been reas-
signed to his former squadron, had been on
duty and had gone out foraging, when he had
again entered into all the little interests of the
regiment and felt himself deprived of liberty
and bound in one narrow, unchanging frame,



he experienced the same sense of peace, of mor-
al support, and the same senseof being at home
here in his own place, as he had felt under the
parental roof. But here was none of all that
turmoil of the world at large, where he did not
know his right place and took mistaken deci-
sions; here was no ScSnya with whom he ought,
or ought not, to have an explanation; here was
no possibility of going there or not going there;
here there were not twenty- four hours in the
day which could be spent in such a variety of
ways; there was not that innumerable crowd of
people of whom not one was nearer to him or
farther from him than another; there were
none of those uncertain and undefined money
relations with his father, and nothing to recall
that terrible loss to D61okhov. Here, in the reg-
iment, all was clear and simple. The whole
world was divided into two unequal parts: one,
our Pdvlograd regiment; the other, all the rest.
And the rest was no concern of his. In the regi-
ment, everything was definite: who was lieu-
tenant, who captain, who was a good fellow,
who a bad one, and most of all, who was a com-
rade. The canteenkeeper gave one credit, one's
pay came every four months, there was nothing
to think out or decide, you had only to do noth-
ing that was considered bad in the Pavlograd
regiment and, when given an order, to do what
was clearly, distinctly, and definitely ordered
and all would be well.

Having once more entered into the definite
conditions of this regimental life, Rost6v felt
the joy and relief a tired man feels on lying
down to rest. Life in the regiment, during this
campaign, was all the pleasanter for him, be-
cause, after his loss to D61okhov (for which, in
spite of all his family's efforts to console him,
he could not forgive himself), he had made up
his mind to atone for his fault by serving, not
as he had done before, but really well, and by
being a perfectly first-rate comrade and officer
in a word, a splendid man altogether, a thing
which seemed so difficult out in the world, but
so possible in the regiment.

After his losses, he had determined to pay
back his debt to his parents in five years. He re-
ceived ten thousand rubles a year, but now re-
solved to take only two thousand and leave the
rest to repay the debt to his parents.

Our army, after repeated retreats and ad-
vances and battles at Pultiisk and Preussisch-
Eylau, was concentrated near Bartenstein. It
was awaiting the Emperor's arrival and the be-
ginning of a new campaign.

The Pdvlograd regiment, belonging to that



22*



WAR AND PEACE



part of the army which had served in the 1805
campaign, had been recruiting up to strength
in Russia, and arrived too late to take part in
the first actions of the campaign. It had been
neither at Pultusk nor at Preussisch-Eylau and,
when it joined the army in the field in the sec-
ond half of the campaign, was attached to Pld-
tov's division.

Pldtov's division was acting independently
of the main army. Several times parts of the
Pdvlograd regiment had exchanged shots with
the enemy, had taken prisoners, and once had
even captured Marshal Oudinot's carriages. In
April the Pdvlograds were stationed immova-
bly for some weeks near a totally ruined and
deserted German village.

A thaw had set in, it was muddy and cold,
the ice on the river broke, and the roads be-
came impassable. For days neither provisions
for the men nor fodder for the horses had been
issued. As no transports could arrive, the men
dispersed about the abandoned and deserted
villages, searching for potatoes, but found few
even of these.

Everything had been eaten up and the in-
habitants had all fled if any remained, they
were worse than beggars and nothing more
could be taken from them; even the soldiers,
usually pitiless enough, instead of taking any-
thing from them, often gave them the last of
their rations.

The Pdvlograd regiment had had only two
men wounded in action, but had lost nearly half
its men from hunger and sickness. In the hos-
pitals, death was so certain that soldiers suffer-
ing from fever, or the swelling that came from
bad food, preferred to remain on duty, and
hardly able to drag their legs went to the front
rather than to the hospitals. When spring came
on, the soldiers found a plant just showing out
of the ground that looked like asparagus, which,
for some. reason, they called "Mdshka's sweet
root." It was very bitter, but they wandered
about the fields seeking it and dug it out with
their sabers and ate it, though they were or-
dered not to do so, as it was a noxious plant.
That spring a new disease broke out among the
soldiers, a swelling of the arms, legs, and face,
which the doctors attributed to eating this root.
But in spite of all this, the soldiers of Denisov's
squadron fed chiefly on "Mdshka's sweet root,"
because it was the second week that the last of
the biscuits were being doled out at the rate of
half a pound a man and the last potatoes re-
ceived had sprouted and frozen.

The horses also had been fed for a fortnight



on straw from the thatched roofs and had be-
come terribly thin, though still covered with
tufts of felty winter hair.

Despite this destitution, the soldiers and of-
ficers went on living just as usual. Despite their
pale swollen faces and tattered uniforms, the
hussars formed line for roll call, kept things in
order, groomed their horses, polished their
arms, brought in straw from the thatched roofs
in place of fodder, and sat down to dine round
the caldrons from which they rose up hungry,
joking about their nasty food and their hunger.
As usual, in their spare time, they lit bonfires,
steamed themselves before them naked;
smoked, picked out and baked sprouting rot-
ten potatoes, told and listened to stories of Po-
tdmkin's and Suv6rov's campaigns, or to leg-
ends of Alesha the Sly, or the priest's laborer
Mik61ka.

The officers, as usual, lived in twos and threes
in the roofless, half-ruined houses. The seniors
tried to collect straw and potatoes and, in gen-
eral, food for the men. The younger ones oc-
cupied themselves as before, some playing cards
(there was plenty of money, though there was
no food), some with more innocent games, such
as quoits and skittles. The general trend of
the campaign was rarely spoken of, partly be-
cause nothing certain was known about it,
partly because there was a vague feeling that
in the main it was going badly.

Rost6v lived, as before, with Denfsov, and
since their furlough they had become more
friendly than ever. Denisov never spoke of Ros-
tov's family, but by the tender friendship his
commander showed him, Rost6v felt that the
elder hussar's luckless love for Natdsha played
a part in strengthening their friendship. Den-
fsov evidently tried to expose Rost6v to dan-
ger as seldom as possible, and after an action
greeted his safe return with evident joy. On
one of his foraging expeditions, in a deserted
and ruined village to which he had come in
search of provisions, Rost6v found a family
consisting of an old Pole and his daughter with
an infant in arms. They were half clad, hungry,
too weak to get away on foot and had no means
of obtaining a conveyance. Rost6v brought
them to his quarters, placed them in his own
lodging, and kept them for some weeks while
the old man was recovering. One of his com-
rades, talking of women, began chaffing Ros-
t6v, saying that he was more wily than any of
them and that it would not be a bad thing if
he introduced to them the pretty Polish girl he
had saved. Rost6v took the joke as an insult,



BOOK FIVE



223



flared up, and said such unpleasant things to
the officer that it was all Denfsov could do to
prevent aduel.Whentheofficerhad goneaway,
Denfsov, who did not himself know what Ros-
t6v's relations with the Polish girl might be, be-
gan to upbraid him for his quickness of tem-
per, and Rostov replied:

"Say what you like. . . . She is like a sister to
me, and I can't tell you how it offended me
. . . because . . . well, for that reason. . . ."

Denisov patted him on the shoulder and be-
gan rapidly pacing the room without looking
at Rostov, as was his way at moments of deep
feeling.

"Ah, what a mad bweed you Wostovs are!"
he muttered, and Rost6v noticed tears in his
eyes.

CHAPTER XVI

IN APRIL the troops were enlivened by news
of the Emperor's arrival, but Rost6v had no
chance of being present at the review he held
at Bartenstein, as the Pavlograds were at the
outposts far beyond that place.

They were bivouacking. Denisov and Ros-
t6v were living in an earth hut, dug out for
them by the soldiers and roofed with branches
and turf. The hut was made in the following
manner, which had then come into vogue. A
trench was dug three and a half feet wide, four
feet eight inches deep, and eight feet long. At
one end of the trench, steps were cut out and
these formed the entrance and vestibule. The
trench itself was the room, in which the lucky
ones, such as the squadron commander, had a
board, lying on piles at the end opposite the
entrance, to serve as a table. On each side of
the trench, the earth was cut out to a breadth
of about two and a half feet, and this did duty
for bedsteads and couches. The roof was so
constructed that one could stand up in the mid-
dle of the trench and could even sit up on the
beds if one drew close to the table. Denfsov,
who was living luxuriously because the sol-
diers of his squadron liked him, had also a
board in the roof at the farther end, with a
piece of (broken but mended) glass in it for a
window. When it was very cold, embers from
the soldiers' campfire were placed on a bent
sheet of iron on the steps in the "reception
room" as Denfsov called that part of the hut
and it was then so warm that the officers, of
whom there were always some with Denfsov
and Rost6v, sat in their shirt sleeves.

In April, Rost6v was on orderly duty. One
morning, between seven and eight, returning



after a sleepless night, he sent for embers,
changed his rain-soaked underclothes, said his
prayers, drank tea, got warm, then tidied up
the things on the table and in his own corner,
and, his face glowing from exposure to the
wind and with nothing on but his shirt, lay
down on his back, putting his arms under his
head. He was pleasantly considering the prob-
ability of being promoted in a few days for his
last reconnoitering expedition, and was await-
ing Denisov, who had gone out somewhere and
with whom he wanted a talk.

Suddenly he heard Denisov shouting in a vi-
brating voice behind the hut, evidently much
excited. Rost6v moved to the window to see
whom he was speaking to, and saw the quarter-
master, Topche'enko.

"I ordered you not to let them eat that Mash-
ka woot stuff!" Denisov was shouting. "And I
saw with my own eyes how Lazarchuk bwought
some fwom the fields."

"I have given the order again and again,
your honor, but they don't obey, "answered the
quartermaster.

Rost6v lay down again on his bed and
thought complacently: "Let him fuss and bus-
tle now, my job's done and I'm lying down-
capitally!" He could hear that Lavrushka
that sly, bold orderly of Denisov's was talking,
as well as the quartermaster. Lavrushka was
saying something about loaded wagons, bis-
cuits, and oxen he had seen when he had gone
out for provisions.

Then Denisov's voice was heard shouting
farther and farther away. "Saddle! Second pla-
toon!"

"Where are they off to now?" thought Ros-
t6v.

Five minutes later, Denfsov came into the
hut, climbed with muddy boots on the bed,
lit his pipe, furiously scattered his things
about, took his leaded whip, buckled on his
saber, and went out again. In answer to Ros-
t6v's inquiry where he was going, he answered
vaguely and crossly that he had some business.

"Let God and our gweat monarch judge me
afterwards!" said Denfsov going out, and Ros-
t6v heard the hoofs of several horses splashing
through the mud. He did not % even trouble to
find out where Denfsov had gone. Having got
warm in his corner, he fell asleep and did not
leave the hut till toward evening. Denfsov had
not yet returned. The weather had cleared up,
and near the next hut two officers and a cadet
were playing svdyka, laughing as they threw
their missiles which buried themselves in the



224



WAR AND PEACE



soft mud. Rostdv joined them. In the middle
of the game, the officers saw some wagons ap-
proaching with fifteen hussars on their skinny
horses behind them. The wagons escorted by
the hussars drew up to the picket ropes and a
crowd of hussars surrounded them.

"There now, Denfsov has been worrying,"
said Rost6v, "and here are the provisions."

"So they are!" said the officers. "Won't the
soldiers be glad!"

A little behind the hussars came Denfsov,
accompanied by two infantry officers with
whom he was talking.

Rost6v went to meet them.

"I warn you, Captain," one of the officers, a
short thin man, evidently very angry, was say-
ing.

"Haven't I told you I won't give them up?"
replied Denfsov.

"You will answer for it, Captain. It is mu-
tinyseizing the transport of one's own army.
Our men have had nothing to eat for two days."

"And mine have had nothing for two weeks,"
said Denfsov.

"It is robbery! You'll answer for it, sir!" said
the infantry officer, raising his voice.

"Now, what are you pestewing me for?"
cried Denfsov, suddenly losing his temper. "I
shall answer for it and not you, and you'd bet-
ter not buzz about here till you get hurt. Be off I
Go!" he shouted at the officers.

"Very well, then!" shouted the little officer,
undaunted and not riding away. "If you are
determined to rob, I'll . . ."

"Go to the devil! quick ma'ch, while you're
safe and sound!" and Denfsov turned his horse
on the officer.

"Very well, very well!" muttered the officer,
threateningly, and turning his horse he trotted
away, jolting in his saddle.

"A dog astwide a fence! A weal dog astwide
a fence!" shouted Denfsov after him (the most
insulting expression a cavalryman can address
to a mounted infantryman) and riding up to
Rost6v, he burst out laughing.

"I've taken twansports from the infantwy by
force!" he said. "After all, can't let our men
starve."

The wagons that had reached the hussars
had been consigned to an infantry regiment,
but learning from La vnishka that the transport
was unescorted, Denfsov with his hussars had
seized it by force. The soldiers had biscuits
dealt out to them freely, and they even shared
them with the other squadrons.

The next day the regimental commander



sent for Denfsov, and holding his fingers spread
out before his eyes said:

"This is howl look at thisaffair: I know noth-
ing about it and won't begin proceedings, but
I advise you to ride over to the staff and settle
the business there in the commissariat depart-
ment and if possible sign a receipt forsuch and
such stores received. If not, as the demand was
booked against an infantry regiment, there will
be a row and the affair may end badly."

From the regimental commander's, Denfsov
rode straight to the staff with a sincere desire
to act on this advice. In the evening he came
back to his dugout in a state such as Rostov
had never yet seen him in. Denfsov could not
speak and gasped for breath. When Rostov
asked what was the matter, he only uttered
some incoherent oaths and threats in a hoarse,
feeble voice.

Alarmed at Denfsov's condition, Rost6v sug-
gested that he should undress, drink some wa-
ter, and send for the doctor.

"Twy me for wobbewy ... oh! Some more
water . . . Let them twy me, but I'll always
thwash scoundwels . . . and I'll tell the Empe-
wo' . . . Ice . . ." he muttered.

The regimental doctor, when he came, said
it was absolutely necessary to bleed Denfsov. A
deep saucer of black blood was taken from his
hairy arm and only then was he able to relate
what had happened to him.

"I get there," began Denfsov. " 'Now then,
where's your chief's quarters?' They were point-
ed out. 'Please to wait.' 'I've widden twenty
miles and have duties to attend to and no
time to wait. Announce me/ Vewy well, so
out comes their head chief also took it into his
head to lecture me: 'It's wobbewy!' 'Wobbe-
wy,' I say, 'is not done by a man who seizes pwo-
visions to feed his soldiers, but by him who
takes them to fill his own pockets!' 'Will you
please be silent?' 'Vewy good!' Then he says:
'Go and give a weceipt to the commissioner,
but your affair will be passed on to headquar-
ters.' I go to the commissioner. I enter, and at
the table . . . who do you think? No, but wait a
bit! . . . Who is it that's starving us?" shouted
Denfsov, hitting the table with the fist of his
newly bled arm so violently that the table near-
ly broke down and the tumblers on it jumped
about. "Telydnin! 'What? So it's you who's
starving us to death! Is it? Take this and this!'
and I hit him so pat, stwaight on his snout . . .
'Ah, what a . . .what . . . 1'and I sta'ted f washing
him . . .Well, I've had a bit of fun I can tell you!"
cried Denfsov, gleeful and yet angry, his white



BOOK FIVE



225



teeth showing under his black mustache.
"I'd have killed him if they hadn't taken him
awayl"

"But what are you shouting for? Calm your-
self," said Rost6v. "You've set your arm bleed-
ing afresh. Wait, we must tie it up again."

Denisov was bandaged up again and put to
bed. Next day he woke calm and cheerful.

But at noon the adjutant of the regiment
came into Rost6v's and Denfsov's dugout with
a grave and serious face and regretfully showed
them a paper addressed to Major Denfsov from
the regimental commander in which inquiries
were made about yesterday's occurrence. The
adjutant told them that the affair was likely
to take a very bad turn: that a court-martial
had been appointed, and that in view of the
severity with which marauding and insubordi-
nation were now regarded, degradation to the
ranks would be the best that could be hoped
for.

The case, as represented by the offended par-
ties, was that, after seizing the transports, Ma-
jor Denisov, being drunk, went to the chief
quartermaster and without any provocation
called him a thief, threatened to strike him,
and on being led out had rushed into the office
and given two officials a thrashing, and dislo-
cated the arm of one of them.

In answer to Rost6v's renewed questions,
Denfsov said, laughing, that he thought he re-
membered that some other fellow had got
mixed up in it, but that it was all nonsense and
rubbish, and he did not in the least fear any
kind of trial, and that if those scoundrels dared
attack him he would give them an answer that
they would not easily forget.

Denfsov spoke contemptuously of the whole
matter, but Rost6v knew him too well not to
detect that (while hiding it from others) at
heart he feared a court-martial and was wor-
ried over the affair, which was evidently tak-
ing a bad turn. Every day, letters of inquiry
and notices from the court arrived, and on the
first of May, Denfsov was ordered to hand the
squadron over to the next in seniority and ap-
pear before the staff of his division to explain
his violence at the commissariat office. On the
previous day Pldtov reconnoitered with two
Cossack regiments and two squadrons of hus-
sars. Denisov, as was his wont, rode out in front
of the outposts, parading his courage. A bullet
fired by a French sharpshooter hit him in the
fleshy part of his leg. Perhaps at another time
Denfsov would not have left the regiment for
so slight a wound, but now he took advantage



of it to excuse himself from appearing at the
staff and went into hospital.

CHAPTER XVII

IN JUNE the battle of Friedland was fought, in
which the Pavlograds did not take part, and
after that an armistice was proclaimed. Rost6v,
who felt his friend's absence very much, having
no news of him since he left and feeling very
anxious about his wound and the progress of
his affairs, took advantage of the armistice to
get leave to visit Denfsov in hospital.

The hospital was in a small Prussian town
that had been twice devastated by Russian and
French troops. Because it was summer, when it
is so beautiful out in the fields, the little town
presented a particularly dismal appearance
with its broken roofs and fences, its foul streets,
tattered inhabitants, and the sick and drunken
soldiers wandering about.

The hospital was in a brick building with
some of the window frames and panes broken
and a courtyard surrounded by the remains of
a wooden fence that had been pulled to pieces.
Several bandaged soldiers, with pale swollen
faces, were sitting or walking about in the sun-
shine in the yard.

Directly Rost6v entered the door he was en-
veloped by a smell of putrefaction and hospital
air. On the stairs he met a Russian army doc-
tor smoking a cigar. The doctor was followed
by a Russian assistant.

"I can't tear myself to pieces," the doctor was
saying. "Come to Makar Alexe*evich in the eve-
ning. I shall be there."

The assistant asked some further questions.

"Oh, do the best you can! Isn't it all the
same?" The doctor noticed Rost6v coming up-
stairs.

"What do you want, sir?" said the doctor.
"What do you want? The bullets having spared
you, do you want to try typhus? This is a pest-
house, sir."

"How so?" asked Rost6v.

"Typhus, sir. It's death to go in. Only we
two, Mak^ev and I" (he pointed to the assist-
ant), "keep on here. Some five of us doctors
have died in this place. . . . When a new one
comes he is done for in a week," said the doc-
tor with evident satisfaction. "Prussian doctors
have been invited here, but our allies don't
like it at all."

Rost6v explained that he wanted to see Ma-
jor Denfsov of the hussars, who was wounded.

"I don't know. I can't tell you, sir. Only
think] I am alone in charge of three hospitals



226



WAR AND PEACE



with more than four hundred patients! It's
well that the charitable Prussian ladies send us
two pounds of coffee and some lint each month
or we should be lost!" he laughed. "Four hun-
dred, sir, and they're always sending me fresh
ones. There are four hundred? Eh?" he asked,
turning to the assistant.

The assistant looked fagged out. He was evi-
dently vexed and impatient for the talkative
doctor to go.

"Major Denisov," Rost6v said again. "He
was wounded at Molliten."

"Dead, I fancy. Eh, Mak^ev?" queried the
doctor, in a tone of indifference.

The assistant, however, did not confirm the
doctor's words.

"Is he tall and with reddish hair?" asked the
doctor.

Rost6v described Denisov's appearance.

"There was one like that," said the doctor,
as if pleased. "That one is dead, I fancy. How-
ever, I'll look up our list. We had a list. Have
you got it, Makev?"

"Makir Alextfevich has the list," answered
the assistant. "But if you'll step into the officers'
wards you'll see for yourself," he added, turn-
ing to Rostov.

"Ah, you'd better not go, sir," said the doc-
tor, "or you may have to stay here yourself."

But Rost6v bowed himself away from the
doctor and asked the assistant to show him the
way.

"Only don't blame me!" the doctor shouted
up after him.

Rost6v and the assistant went into the dark
corridor. The smell was so strong there that
Rost6v held his nose and had to pause and
collect his strength before he could go on. A
door opened to the right, and an emaciated
sallow man on crutches, barefoot and in un-
derclothing, limped out and, leaning against
the doorpost, looked with glittering envious
eyes at those who were passing. Glancing in at
the door,Rost6v saw that the sick and wounded
were lying on the floor on straw and overcoats.

"May I go in and look?"

"What is there to see?" said the assistant.

But, just because the assistant evidently did
not want him to go in, Rost6v entered the sol-
diers' ward. The foul air, to which he had al-
ready begun to get used in the corridor, was
still stronger here. It was a little different,
more pungent, and one felt that this was where
it originated.

In the long room, brightly lit up by the sun
through the large windows, the sick and wound-



ed lay in two rows with their heads to the walls,
and leaving a passage in the middle. Most of
them were unconscious and paid no attention
to the newcomers. Those who were conscious
raised themselves or lifted their thin yellow
faces, and all looked intently at Rost6v with
the same expression of hope, of relief, re-
proach, and envy of another's health. Rost6v
went to the middle of the room and looking
through the open doors into the two adjoining
rooms saw the same thing there. He stood still,
looking silently around. He had not at all ex-
pected such a sight. Just before him, almost
across the middle of the passage on the bare
floor, lay a sick man, probably a Cossack to
judge by the cut of his hair. The man lay on
his back, his huge arms and legs outstretched.
His face was purple, his eyes were rolled back
so that only the whites were seen, and on his
bare legs and arms which were still red, the
veins stood out like cords. He was knocking
the back of his head against the floor, hoarsely
uttering some word which he kept repeating.
Rost6v listened and made out the word. It
was "drink, drink, a drinkl" Rost6v glanced
round, looking for someone who would put
this man back in his place and bring him wa-
ter.

"Who looks after the sick here?" he asked
the assistant.

Just then a commissariat soldier, a hospital
orderly, came in from the next room, march-
ing stiffly, and drew up in front of Rost6v.

"Good day, your honor!" he shouted, roll-
ing his eyes at Rostov and evidently mistaking
him for one of the hospital authorities.

"Get him to his place and give him some
water," said Rost6v, pointing to the Cossack.

"Yes, your honor," the soldier replied com-
placently, and rolling his eyes more than ever
he drew himself up still straighter, but did not
move.

"No, it's impossible to do anything here,"
thought Rost6v, lowering his eyes, and he was
going out, but became aware of an intense look
fixed on him on his right, and he turned. Close
to the corner, on an overcoat, sat an old, un-
shaven, gray-bearded soldier as thin as a skele-
ton, with a stern sallow face and eyes intently
fixed on Rost6v. The man's neighbor on one
side whispered something to him, pointing at
Rost6v, who noticed that the old man wanted
to speak to him. He drew nearer and saw that
the old man had only one leg bent under him,
the other had been amputated above the knee.
His neighbor on the other side, who lay mo-



BOOK

tionless some distance from him with his head
thrown back, was a young soldier with a snub
nose. His pale waxen face was still freckled
and his eyes were rolled back. Rost6v looked
at the young soldier and a cold chill ran down
his back.

"Why, this one seems . . ." he began, turning
to the assistant.

"And how we've been begging, your honor,"
said the old soldier, his jaw quivering. "He's
been dead since morning. After all we're men,
not dogs."

"I'll send someone at once. He shall be tak-
en away taken a way at once," said the assistant
hurriedly. "Let us go, your honor."

"Yes, yes, let us go," said Rost6v hastily, and
lowering his eyes and shrinking, he tried to
pass unnoticed between the rows of reproach-
ful envious eyes that were fixed upon him, and
went out of the room.

CHAPTER XVIII

GOING ALONG the corridor, the assistant led
Rost6v to the officers' wards, consisting of three
rooms, the doors of which stood open. There
were beds in these rooms and the sick and
wounded officers were lying or sitting on them.
Some were walking about the rooms in hospital
dressing gowns. The first person Rostov met
in the officers' ward was a thin little man with
one arm, who was walking about the first room
in a nightcap and hospital dressing gown, with
a pipe between his teeth. Rost6v looked at him,
trying to remember where he had seen him be-
fore.

"See where we've met again I" said the little
man. "Tushin, Tiishin, don't you remember,
who gave you a lift at Schon Grabern? And
I've had a bit cut off, you see . . ." he went on
with a smile, pointing to the empty sleeve of
his dressing gown. "Looking for Vasili Dmft-
rich Denfsov? My neighbor," he added, when
he heard who Rost6v wanted. "Here, here,"
and Tiishin led him into the next room, from
whence came sounds of several laughing voices.

"How can they laugh, or even live at all
here?" thought Rost6v, still aware of that
smell of decomposing flesh that had been so
strong in the soldiers' ward, and still seeming
to see fixed on him those envious looks which
had followed him out from both sides, and the
face of that young soldier with eyes rolled
back.

Denfsov lay asleep on his bed with his head
under the blanket, though it was nearly noon.

"Ah, Wost6v? How are you, how are you?"



FIVE 227

he called out, still in the same voice as in the
regiment, but Rost6v noticed sadly that under
this habitual ease and animation some new,
sinister, hidden feeling showed itself in the
expression of Denfsov's face and the intona-
tions of his voice.

His wound, though a slight one, had not yet
healed even now, six weeks after he had been
hit. His face had the same swollen pallor as the
faces of the other hospital patients, but it was
not this that struck Rostov. What struck him
was that Denfsov did not seem glad to see him,
and smiled at him unnaturally. He did not
ask about the regiment, nor about the general
state of affairs, and when Rost6v spoke of these
matters did not listen.

Rostov even noticed that Denfsov did not
like to be reminded of the regiment, or in gen-
eral of that other free life which was going on
outside the hospital. He seemed to try to for-
get that old life and was only interested in the
affair with the commissariat officers. On Ros-
t6v's inquiry as to how the matter stood, he at
once produced from under his pillow a paper
he had received from the commission and the
rough draft of his answer to it. He became ani-
mated when he began reading his paper and
specially drew Rostov's attention to the sting-
ing rejoinders he made to his enemies. His
hospital companions, who had gathered round
Rost6v a fresh arrival from the world outside
gradually began to disperse as soon as Denf-
sov began reading his answer. Rost6v noticed
by their faces that all those gentlemen had al-
ready heard that story more than once and
were tired of it. Only the man who had the
next bed, a stout Uhlan, continued to sit on
his bed, gloomily frowning and smoking a
pipe, and little one-armed Tiishin still lis-
tened, shaking his head disapprovingly. In the
middle of the reading, the Uhlan interrupted
Denisov.

"But what I say is," he said, turning to Ros-
t6v, "it would be best simply to petition the
Emperor for pardon. They say great rewards
will now be distributed, and surely a pardon
would be granted. . . ."

"Me petition the Einpcwo' 1 " exclaimed Denf-
sov, in a voice to which he tried hard to give
the old energy and fire, but which sounded like
an expression of irritable impotence. "What
for? If I were a wobber I would ask mercy, but
I'm being court-martialed for bwinging wob-
bers to book. Let them twy me, I'm not afwaid
of anyone. I'veserved the Tsar and mycountwy
honowably and have not stolen! And am I to



2*8



WAR AND PEACE



be degwaded? , . . Listen, I'm w'iting to them
stwaight. This is what I say: 'If I had wobbed
the Tweasuwy . . .' "

"It's certainly well written," said Tiishin,
"but that's not the point, Vasili Dmitrich,"
and he also turned to Rost6v. "One has to sub-
mit, and Vasili Dmftrich doesn't want to. You
know the auditor told you it was a bad busi-
ness."

"Well, let it be bad," said Denfsov.

"The auditor wrote out a petition for you,"
continued Tiishin, "and you ought to sign it
and ask this gentleman to take it. No doubt he"
(indicating Rost6v) "has connections on the
staff. You won't find a better opportunity."

"Haven't I said I'm not going to gwovel?"
Denfsov interrupted him, and went on read-
ing his paper.

Rostov had not the courage to persuade
Denisov, though he instinctively felt that the
way advised by Tiishin and the other officers
was the safest, and though he would have been
glad to be of service to Denisov. He knew his
stubborn will and straightforward hasty tem-

M*r.

) When the reading of Denisov's virulent re-
'ply, which took more than an hour, was over,
Rost6v said nothing, and he spent the rest of
the day in a most dejected state of mind amid
Denisov's hospital comrades, who had gathered
round him, telling them what he knew and lis-
tening to their stories. Denisov was moodily
silent all the evening.

Late in the evening, when Rost6v was about
to leave, he asked Denisov whether he had no
commission for him.

"Yes, wait a bit," said Denisov, glancing
round at the officers, and taking his papers
from under his pillow he went to the window,
where he had an inkpot, and sat down to write.

"It seems it's no use knocking one's head
against a walll" he said, coming from the win-
dow and giving Rost6v a large envelope. In it
was the petition to the Emperor drawn up by
the auditor, in which Denisov, without allud-
ing to the offenses of the commissariat officials,
simply asked for pardon.

"Hand it in. It seems . . ."

He did not finish, but gave a painfully un-
natural smile.

CHAPTER XIX

HAVING RETURNED to the regiment and told
the commander the state of Denisov's affairs,
Rost6v rode to Tilsit with the letter to the
Emperor.



On the thirteenth of June the French and
Russian Emperors arrived in Tilsit. Boris Dru-
betsk6y had asked the important personage on
whom he was in attendance, to include him in
the suite appointed for the stay at Tilsit.

"I should like to see the great man," he said,
alluding to Napoleon, whom hitherto he, like
everyone else, had always called Buonaparte.

"You are speaking of Buonaparte?" asked
the general, smiling.

Boris looked at his general inquiringly and
immediately saw that he was being tested.

"I am speaking, Prince, of the Emperor Na-
poleon," he replied. The general patted him
on the shoulder, with a smile.

"You will go far," he said, and took him to
Tilsit with him.

Boris was among the few present at the Nie-
men on the day the two Emperors met. He saw
the raft, decorated with monograms, saw Napo-
leon pass before the French Guards on the
farther bank of the river, saw the pensive face
of the Emperor Alexander as he sat in silence
in a tavern on the bank of the Niemen await-
ing Napoleon's arrival, saw both Emperors get
into boats, and saw how Napoleon reaching
the raft first stepped quickly forward to meet
Alexander and held out his hand to him, arid
how they both retired into the pavilion. Since
he had begun to move in the highest circles
Boris had made it his habit to watch attentive-
ly all that went on around him and to note it
down. At the time of the meeting at Tilsit he
asked the names of those who had come with
Napoleon and about the uniforms they wore,
and listened attentively to words spoken by im-
portant personages. At the moment the Em-
perors went into the pavilion he looked at his
watch, and did not forget to look at it again
when Alexander came out. The interview had
lasted an hour and fifty-three minutes. He
noted this down that same evening, among oth-
er facts he felt to be of historic importance. As
the Emperor's suite was a very small one, it was
a matter of great importance, for a man who
valued his success in the service, to be at Tilsit
on the occasion of this interview between the
two Emperors, and having succeeded in this,
Boris felt that henceforth his position was ful-
ly assured. He had not only become known,
but people had grown accustomed to him and
accepted him. Twice he had executed commis-
sions to the Emperor himself, so that the latter
knew his face, and all those at court, far from
cold-shouldering him as at first when they con-
sidered him a newcomer, would now have been



BOOK FIVE



229



surprised had he been absent.

Borfs lodged with another adjutant, the Pol-
ish Count Zhilinski. Zhilinski, a Pole brought
up in Paris, was rich, and passionately fond of
the French, and almost every day of the stay at
Tilsit, French officers of the Guard and from
French headquarters were dining and lunch-
ing with him and Boris.

On the evening of the twenty-fourth of June,
Count Zhilfnski arranged a supper for his
French friends. The guest of honor was an aide-
de-camp of Napoleon's, there were also several
French officers of the Guard, and a page of Na-
poleon's, a young lad of an old aristocratic
French family. That same day, Rost6v, profit-
ing by the darkness to avoid being recognized
in civilian dress, came to Tilsit and went to the
lodging occupied by Borfs and Zhilinski.

Rostov, in common with the whole army
from which he came, was far from having ex-
perienced the change of feeling toward Napo-
leon and the French who from being foes had
suddenly become friends that had taken place
at headquarters and in Boris. In the army, Bon-
aparte and the French were still regarded with
mingled feelings of anger, contempt, and fear.
Only recently, talkingwith one of PLltov's Cos-
sack officers, Rost6v had argued that if Napole-
on were taken prisoner he would be treated not
as a sovereign, but as a criminal. Quite lately,
happening to meet a wounded French colonel
on the road, Rost6v had maintained with heat
that peace was impossible between a legitimate
sovereign and the criminal Bonaparte. Rost6v
was therefore unpleasantly struck by the pres-
ence of French officers in Boris' lodging, dressed
in uniforms he had been accustomed to see
from quite a different point of view from the
outposts of the flank. As soon as he noticed a
French officer, who thrust his head out of the
door, that warlike feeling of hostility which he
always experienced at the sight of the enemy
suddenly seized him. He stopped at the thresh-
old and asked in Russian whether Drubetsk6y
lived there. Boris, hearing a strange voice in
the anteroom, came out to meet him. An ex-
pression of annoyance showed itself for a mo-
ment on his face on first recognizing Rost6v.

"Ah, it's you? Very glad, very glad to see you,"
he said, however, coming toward him with a
smile. But Rost6v had noticed his first impulse.

"I've come at a bad time I think. I should
not have come, but I have business," he said
coldly.

"No, I only wonder how you managed to get
away from your regiment. Dans un moment jc



suis & vous," l he said, answering someone who
called him.

"I see I'm intruding," Rost6v repeated.

The look of annoyance had already disap-
peared from Borfs' face: having evidently re-
flected and decided how to act, he very quiet-
ly took both Rost6v's hands and led him into
the next room. His eyes, looking serenely and
steadily at Rost6v, seemed to be veiled by some-
thing, as if screened by blue spectacles of con-
ventionality. So it seemed to Rost6v.

"Oh, come now! As if you could come at a
wrong time!" said Boris, and he led him into
the room where the supper table was laid and
introduced him to his guests, explaining that
he was not a civilian, but an hussar officer, and
an old friend of his.

"Count Zhilinski le Comic N. N. le Capi-
taine S. S.," said he, naming his guests. Rost6v
looked frowningly at the Frenchmen, bowed
reluctantly, and remained silent.

Zhilinski evidently did not receive this new
Russian person very willingly into his circle
and did not speak to Rost6v. Boris did not ap-
pear to notice the constraint the newcomer
produced and, with the same pleasant compo-
sure and the same veiled look in his eyes with
which he had met Rost6v, tried to enliven the
conversation. One of the Frenchmen, with the
politeness characteristic of his countrymen, ad-
dressed the obstinately taciturn Rost6v, say-
ing that the latter had probably come to Tilsit
to see the Emperor.

"No, 1 came on business," replied Rostov,
briefly.

Rostov had been out of humor from the mo-
ment he noticed the look of dissatisfaction on
Boris' face, and as always happens to those in
a bad humor, it seemed to him that everyone
regarded him with aversion and that he was in
everybody's way. He really was in their way,
for he alone took no part in the conversation
which again became general. The looks the
visitors cast on him seemed to say: "And what
is he sitting here for?" He rose and went up to
Borfs.

"Anyhow, I'm in your way," he said in a low
tone. "Corrie and talk over my business and I'll
go away."

"Oh, no, not at all," said Borfs. "But if you
are tired, come and lie down in my room and
have a rest."

"Yes, really . . ."

They went into the little room where Boris
slept. Rost6v, without sitting down, began at

1 "In a minute I shall be at your disposal."



230



WAR AND PEACE



once, irritably (as if Boris were to blame in
some way) telling him about Denisov's affair,
asking him whether, through his general, he
could and would intercede with the Emperor
on Denisov's behalf and get Denisov's petition
handed in. When he and Boris were alone, Ros-
t6v felt for the first time that he could not look
Boris in the face without a sense of awkward-
ness. Boris, with one leg crossed over the other
and stroking his left hand with the slender fin-
gers of his right, listened to Rost6v as a general
listens to the report of a subordinate, now look-
ing aside and now gazing straight into Rost6v's
eyes with the same veiled look. Each time this
happened Rost6v felt uncomfortable and cast
down his eyes.

"I have heard of such cases and know that
His Majesty is very severe in such affairs. I
think it would be best not to bring it before the
Emperor, but to apply to the commander of
the corps. . . . But in general, I think . . ."

"So you don't want to do anything? Well
then, say so!" Rostov almost shouted, not look-
ing Boris in the face.

Boris smiled.

"On the contrary, I will do what I can. Only
I thought . . ."

At that moment Zhilfnski's voice was heard
calling Boris.

"Well then, go, go, go . . ." said Rost6v, and
refusing supper and remaining alone in the
little room, he walked up and down for a long
time, hearing the lighthearted French conver-
sation from the next room.

CHAPTER XX

ROSTOV HAD COME toTilsiton the day least suit-
able for a petition on Denisov's behalf. He
could not himself go to the general in attend-
ance as he was in mufti and had come to Tilsit
without permission to do so, and Boris, even
had he wished to, could not have done so on
the following day. On that day, June 27, the
preliminaries of peace were signed. The Em-
perors exchanged decorations: Alexander re-
ceived the Cross of the Legion of Honor and
Napoleon the Order of St. Andrew of the First
Degree, and a dinner had been arranged for
the evening, given by a battalion of the French
Guards to the Preobrazhdnsk battalion. The
Emperors were to be present at that banquet.

Rost6v felt so ill at ease and uncomfortable
with Boris that, when the latter looked in after
supper, he pretended to be asleep, and early
next morning went away, avoiding Boris. In his
civilian clothes and a round hat, he wandered



about the town, staring at the French and
their uniforms and at the streets and houses
where the Russian and French Emperors were
staying. In a square he saw tables being set up
and preparations made for the dinner; he saw
the Russian and French colors draped from side
to side of the streets, with hugh monograms
A and AT. In the windows of the houses also
flags and bunting were displayed.

"Boris doesn't want to help me and I don't
want to ask him. That's settled," thought Nich-
olas. "All is over between us, but I won't leave
here without having done all I can for Denisov
and certainly not without getting his letter to
the Emperor. The Emperor! . . . He is here!"
thought Rost6v, who had unconsciously re-
turned to the house where Alexander lodged.

Saddled horses were standing before the
house and the suite were assembling, evidently
preparing for the Emperor to come out.

"I may see him at any moment," thought Ros-
t6v. "If only I were to hand the letter direct to
him and tell him all ... could they really ar-
rest me for my civilian clothes? Surely not! He
would understand on whose side justice lies.
He understands everything, knows everything.
Who can be more just, more magnanimous
than he? And even if they did arrest me for be-
ing here, what would it matter?" thought he,
looking at an officer who was entering the
house the Emperor occupied. "After all, peo-
ple do go in. ... It's all nonsense! I'll go in
and hand the letter to the Emperor myself, so
much the worse for Drubetsk6y who drives me
to it!" And suddenly with a determination he
himself did not expect, Rost6v felt for the let-
ter in his pocket and went straight to the house.

"No, I won't miss my opportunity now, as I
did after Austerlitz," he thought, expecting ev-
ery moment to meet the monarch, and con-
scious of the blood that rushed to his heart at
the thought. "I will fall at his feet and beseech
him. He will lift me up, will listen, and will
even thank me. 'I am happy when I can do
good, but to remedy injustice is the greatest
happiness,' " Rost6v fancied the sovereign
saying. And passing people who looked after
him with curiosity, he entered the porch of
the Emperor's house.

A broad staircase led straight up from the
entry, and to the right he saw a closed door.
Below, under the staircase, was a door leading
to the lower floor.

"Whom do you want?" someone inquired.

"To hand in a letter, a petition, to His Maj-
esty/' said Nicholas, with a tremor in his voice.



BOOK FIVE



231



"A petition? This way, to the officer on duty"
(he was shown the door leading downstairs),
"only it won't be accepted."

On hearing this indifferent voice, Rost6v
grew frightened at what he was doing; the
thought of meeting the Emperor at any mo-
ment was so fascinating and consequently so
alarming that he was ready to run away, but
the official who had questioned him opened the
door, and Rost6v entered.

A short stout man of about thirty, in white
breeches and high boots and a batiste shirt that
he had evidently only just put on, was standing
in that room, and his valet was buttoning on to
the back of his breeches a new pair of hand-
some silk-embroidered braces that, for some
reason, attracted Rostov's attention. This man
was speaking to someone in the ad join ing room.

"A good figure and in her first bloom," he
was saying, but on seeing Rost6v, he stopped
short and frowned.

"What is it? A petition?"

"What is it?" asked the person in the other
room.

"Another petitioner," answered the man
with the braces.

"Tell him to come later. He'll be coming out
directly, we must go."

"Later . . . later! Tomorrow. It's too late "

Rostov turned and was about to go, but the
man in the braces stopped him.

"Whom have you come from? Who are you?"

"I come from Major Denisov," answered
Rost6v.

"Are you an officer?"

"Lieutenant Count Rostov."

"What audacity! Hand it in through your
commander. And go along with you . . . go,"
and he continued to put on the uniform the
valet handed him.

Rost6v went back into the hall and noticed
that in the porch there were many officers and
generals in full parade uniform, whom he had
to pass.

Cursing his temerity, his heart sinking at the
thought of finding himself at any moment face
to face with the Emperor and being put to shame
and arrested in his presence, fully alive now to
the impropriety of his conduct and repenting
of it, Rost6v, with downcast eyes, was making
his way out of the house through the brilliant
suite when a familiar voice called him and a
hand detained him.

"What are you doing here, sir, in civilian
dress?" asked a deep voice.

It was a cavalry general who had obtained



the Emperor's special favor during this cam-
paign, and who had formerly commanded the
division in which Rost6v was serving.

Rost6v, in dismay, began justifying himself,
but seeing the kindly, jocular face of the gener-
al, he took him aside and in an excited voice
told him the whole affair, asking him to inter-
cede for Denfsov, whom the general knew. Hav-
ing heard Rost6v to the end, the general shook
his head gravely.

"I'm sorry, sorry for that fine fellow. Give
me the letter."

Hardly had Rost6v handed him the letter
and finished explaining Denfsov's case, when
hasty steps and the jingling of spurs were heard
on thestairs,and thegeneral, leaving him, went
to the porch. The gentlemen of the Emperor's
suite ran down the stairs and went to their
horses. Hayne, the same groom who had been
at Austerlitz, led up the Emperor's horse, and
the faint creak of a footstep Rost6v knew at
once was heard on the stairs. Forgetting the
danger of being recognized, Rostov went close
to the porch, together with some inquisitive
civilians, and again, after two years, saw those
features he adored: that same face and same
look and step, and the same union of majesty
and mildness. . . . And the feeling of enthusi-
asm and love for his sovereign rose again in
Rostov's soul in all its old force. In the uniform
of the Preobrazh^nsk regiment white chamois-
leather breeches and high boots and wearing
a star Rost6v did not know (it was that of the
Legion d'honneur), the monarch came out in-
to the porch, putting on his gloves and carry-
ing his hat under his arm. He stopped and
looked about him, brightening everything
around by his glance. He spoke a few words to
some of the generals, and, recognizing the for-
mer commander of Rost6v's division, smiled
and beckoned to him.

All the suite drew back and Rostov saw the
general talking for some time to the Emperor.

The Emperor said a few words to him and
took a step toward his horse. Again the crowd
of members of the suite and street gazers
(amongwhomwas Rost6v) moved nearer to the
Emperor. Stopping beside his horse, with his
hand on the saddle, the Emperor turned to the
cavalry general and said in a loud voice, evi-
dently wishing to be heard by all:

"I cannot do it, General. I cannot, because
the law is stronger than I," and he raised his
foot to the stirrup.

Thegeneral bowed his head respectfully, and
the monarch mounted and rodedown thestreet



WAR AND PEACE



at a gallop. Beside himself with enthusiasm,
Rost6v ran after him with the crowd.

CHAPTER XXI

THE EMPEROR rode to the square where, facing
one another, a battalion of the Preobrazhnsk
regiment stood on the right and a battalion of
the French Guards in their bearskin caps on
the left.

As the Tsar rode up to one flank of the bat-
talions, which presented arms, another group
of horsemen galloped up to the opposite flank,
and at the head of them Rostov recognized Na-
poleon. It could be no one else. He came at a
gallop, wearing a small hat, a blue uniform
open over a white vest, and the St. Andrew rib-
bon over his shoulder. He was riding a very
fine thoroughbred gray Arab horsewith a crim-
son gold-embroidered saddlecloth. On ap-
proaching Alexander he raised his hat, and as
he did so, Rost6v, with his cavalryman's eye,
could not help noticing that Napoleon did not
sit well or firmly in the saddle. The battalions
shouted "Hurrah!" and "Vive I'Empereur!"
Napoleon said something to Alexander, and
both Emperors dismounted and took each oth-
er's hands. Napoleon's face wore an unpleas-
ant and artificial smile. Alexander was saying
something affable to him.

In spite of the trampling of the French gen-
darmes' horses, which were pushing back the
crowd, Rost6vkept his eyes on every movement
of Alexander and Bonaparte. It struck him as
a surprise that Alexander treated Bonaparte as
an equal and that the latter was quite at ease
with the Tsar, as if such relations with an Em-
peror were an everyday matter to him.

Alexander and Napoleon, with the long train
of their suites, approached the right flank of
the Preobrazh^nsk battalion and came straight
up to the crowd standing there. The crowd un-
expectedly found itself so close to the Emper-
ors that Rostov, standing in the front row, was
afraid he might be recognized.

"Sire, I ask your permission to present the
Legion of Honor to the bra vest of your soldiers,"
said a sharp, precise voice, articulating every
letter.

This was said by the undersized Napoleon,
looking up straight into Alexander's eyes.
Alexander listened attentively to what was
said to him and, bending his head, smiled
pleasantly.

"To him who has borne himself most brave-
ly in this last war," added Napoleon, accentuat-
ing each syllable, as with a composure and as-



surance exasperating to Rost6v, he ran his eyes
over the Russian ranks drawn up before him,
who all presented arms with their eyes fixed on
their Emperor.

"Will Your Majesty allow me to consult the
colonel?" said Alexander and took a few hasty
steps toward Prince Kozldvski, the commander
of the battalion.

Bonaparte meanwhile began taking the glove
off his small white hand, tore it in doing so,
and threw it away. An aide-de-camp behind
him rushed forward and picked it up.

"To whom shall it be given?" the Emperor
Alexander asked Kosl6vski, in Russian in a
low voice.

"To whomever Your Majesty commands."

The Emperor knit his brows with dissatisfac-
tion and, glancing back, remarked:

"But we must give him an answer."

Kozl6vski scanned the ranks resolutely and
included Rostov in his scrutiny.

"Can it be me?" thought Rost6v.

"Ldzarevl" the colonel called, with a frown,
and Ldzarev, the first soldier in the rank,
stepped briskly forward.

"Where are you off to? Stop here!" voices
whispered to Ldzarev who did not know where
to go. Ldzarev stopped, casting a sidelong look
at his colonel in alarm. His face twitched, as
often happens to soldiers called before the
ranks.

Napoleon slightly turned his head, and put
his plump little hand out behind him as if to
take something. The members of his suite, guess-
ing at once what he wanted, moved about and
whispered as they passed something from one
to another, and a page the same one Rost6v
had seen the previous evening at Boris' -ran
forward and, bowing respectfully over the out-
stretched hand and not keeping it waiting a
moment, laid in it an Order on a red ribbon.
Napoleon, without looking, pressed two fingers
together and the badge was between them.
Then he approached Ldzarev (who rolled his
eyes and persistently gazed at his own mon-
arch), looked round at the Emperor Alexander
to imply that what he was now doing was done
for the sake of his ally, and the small white
hand holding the Order touched one of Lza-
rev's buttons. It was as if Napoleon knew that
it was only necessary for his hand to deign to
touch that soldier's breast for the soldier to be
forever happy, rewarded, and distinguished
from everyone else in the world. Napoleon
merely laid the cross on Ldzarev's breast and,
dropping his hand, turned toward Alexander



BOOK FIVE



as though sure that the cross would adhere
there. And it really did.

Officious hands, Russian and French, im-
mediately seized the cross and fastened it to the
uniform. Ldzarev glanced morosely at the lit-
tle man with white hands who was doing some-
thing to him and, still standing motionless pre-
senting arms, looked again straight into Alex-
ander's eyes, as if asking whether he should
stand there, or go away, or do something else.
But receiving no orders, he remained for some
time in that rigid position.

The Emperors remounted and rode away.
The Preobrazhe*nsk battalion, breaking rank,
mingled with the French Guards and sat down
at the tables prepared for them.

Lazarev sat in the place of honor. Russian
and French officers embraced him, congratulat-
ed him, and pressed his hands. Crowds of offi-
cers and civilians drew near merely to see him.
A rumble of Russian and French voices and
laughter filled the air round the tables in the
square. Two officers with flushed faces, look-
ing cheerful and happy, passed by Rost6v.

"What d'you think of the treat? All on silver
plate," one of them was saying. "Have you seen
Lazarev?"

"I have."

"Tomorrow, I hear, the Preobrazhnskiswill
give them a dinner."

"Yes, but what luck for Ldzarev! Twelve
hundred francs' pension for life."

"Here's a cap, lads!" shouted a Preobraz-
hdnsk soldier, donning a shaggy French cap.

"It's a fine thing! First-rate!"

"Have you heard the password?" asked one
Guards' officer of another. "The day before yes-
terday it was 'Napoldon, France, bravoure';
yesterday, 'Alexandre, Russie, grandeur.' One
day our Emperor gives it and next day Napo-
leon. Tomorrow our Emperor will send a St.
George's Cross to the bravest of the French
Guards. It has to be done. He must respond in
kind."

Borfs, too, with his friend Zhilfnski, came to
see the Preobrazhdnsk banquet. On his way
back, he noticed Rost6v standing by the cor-
ner of a house.

"Rost6v! How d'you do? We missed one an-
other," he said, and could not refrain from ask-
ing what was the matter, so strangely dismal
and troubled was Rost6v's face.

"Nothing, nothing," replied Rost6v.

"You'll call round?"

"Yes, I will."

Rost6v stood at that corner for a long time,



watching the feast from a distance. In his mind,
a painful process was going on which he could
not bring to a conclusion. Terrible doubts rose
in his soul. Now he remembered Denisov with
his changed expression, his submission, and the
whole hospital, with arms and legs torn off and
its dirt and disease. So vividly did he recall that
hospital stench of dead flesh that he looked
round to see where the smell came from. Next
he thought of that self-satisfied Bonaparte,
with his small white hand, who was now an Em-
peror, liked and respected by Alexander. Then
why those severed arms and legs and those dead
men? . . . Then again he thought of Ldzarev re-
warded and Denfsov punished and unpar-
doned. He caught himself harboring such
strange thoughts that he was frightened.

The smell of the food the Preobrazhnskis
were eating and a sense of hunger recalled him
from these reflections; he had to get something
to eat before going away. He went to a hotel he
had noticed that morning. There he found so
many people, among them officers who, like
himself, had come in civilian clothes, that he
had difficulty in getting a dinner. Two officers
of his own division joined him. The conversa-
tion naturally turned on the peace. The offi-
cers, his comrades, like most of the army, were
dissatisfied with the peace concluded after the
battle of Friedland. They said that had we held
out a little longer Napoleon would have been
done for, as his troops had neither provisions
nor ammunition. Nicholas ate and drank
(chiefly the latter) in silence. He finished a
couple of bottles of wine by himself. The pro-
cess in his mind went on tormenting him with-
out reaching a conclusion. He feared to give
way to his thoughts, yet could not get rid of
them. Suddenly, on one of the officers' saying
that it was humiliating to look at the French,
Rostov began shouting with uncalled-for wrath,
and therefore much to the surprise of the offi-
cers:

"How can you judge what's best?" he cried,
the blood suddenly rushing to his face. "How
can you judge the Emperor's actions? What
right have we to argue? We cannot compre-
hend either the Emperor'saims or his actions!"

"But I never said a word about the Emper-
or!" said the officer, justifying himself, and un-
able to understand Rostov's outburst, except
on the supposition that he was drunk.

But Rost6v did not listen to him.

"We are not diplomatic officials, we are sol-
diers and nothing more," he went on. "If we
are ordered to die, we must die. If we're pun-



234



WAR AND PEACE



ished, it means that we have deserved it, it's
not for us to judge. If the Emperor pleases to
recognize Bonaparte as Emperor and to con-
clude an alliance with him, it means that that
is the right thing to do. If once we begin judg-
ing and arguing about everything, nothing sa-
cred will be left! That way we shall be saying
there is no God nothing!" shouted Nicholas,
banging the table very little to the point as it
seemed to his listeners, but quite relevantly to
the course of his own thoughts.

"Our business is to do our duty, to fight and
not to think! That's all " said he.

"And to drink/' said one of the officers, not
wishing to quarrel.

"Yes, and to drink, "assented Nicholas. "Hul-
lo there! Another bottle!" he shouted.

In 1808 the Emperor Alexander went to Er-
furt for a fresh interview with the Emperor Na-
poleon, and in the upper circles of Petersburg
there was much talk of the grandeur of this
important meeting.



CHAPTER XXII

In 1809 the intimacy between "the world's
two arbiters," as Napoleon and Alexander were
called, was such that when Napoleon declared
war on Austria a Russian corps crossed the
frontier to co-operate with our old enemy
Bonaparte against our old ally the Emperor of
Austria, and in court circles the possibility of
marriage between Napoleon and one of Al-
exander's sisters was spoken of. But besides
considerations of foreign policy, the attention
of Russian society was at that time keenly di-
rected on the internal changes that were being
undertaken in all the departments of govern-
ment.

Life meanwhile real life, with its essential
interests of health and sickness, toil and rest,
and its intellectual interests in thought, sci-
ence, poetry, music, love, friendship, hatred,
and passions went on as usual, independently
of and apart from political friendship or en-
mity with Napoleon Bonaparte and from all
the schemes of reconstruction.



Book Six: 1808-10



CHAPTER I

PRINCE ANDREW had spent two years continu-
ously in the country.

All the plans Pierre had attempted on his es-
tatesand constantly changing from one thing
to another had never accomplishedwere car-
ried out by Prince Andrew without display and
without perceptible difficulty.

He had in the highest degree a practical te-
nacity which Pierre lacked, and without fuss
or strain on his part this set things going.

On one of his estates the three hundred serfs
were liberated and became free agricultural
laborers this being one of the first examples
of the kind in Russia. On other estates the
serfs' compulsory labor was commuted for a
quitrent. A trained midwife was engaged for
Bogucharovo at his expense, and a priest was
paid to teach reading and writing to the chil-
dren of the peasants and household serfs.

Prince Andrew spent half his time at Bald
Hills with his father and his son, who was still
in the care of nurses. The other half he spent
in "Bogucharovo Cloister/' as his father called
Prince Andrew's estate. Despite the indiffer-
ence to the affairs of the world he had expressed
to Pierre, he diligently followed all that went
on, received many books, and to his surprise
noticed that when he or his father had visitors
from Petersburg, the very vortex of life, these
people lagged behind himself who never left
the country in knowledge of what was hap-
pening in home and foreign affairs.

Besides being occupied with his estates and
reading a great variety of books, Prince An-
drew was at this time busy with a critical sur-
vey of our last two unfortunate campaigns, and
with drawing up a proposal for a reform of the
army rules and regulations.

In the spring of 1 809 he went to visit the Ry-
azdn estates which had been inherited by his
son, whose guardian he was.

Warmed by the spring sunshine he sat in
the caliche looking at the new grass, the first
leaves on th birches, and the first puffs of



white spring clouds floating across the clear
blue sky. He was not thinking of anything, but
looked absent-mindedly and cheerfully from
side to side.

They crossed the ferry where he had talked
with Pierre the year before. They went through
the muddy village, past threshing floors and
green fields of winter rye, downhill where snow
still lodged near the bridge, uphill where the
clay had been liquefied by the rain, past strips
of stubble land and bushes touched with green
here and there, and into a birch forest grow-
ing on both sides of the road. In the forest it
was almost hot, no wind could be felt. The
birches with their sticky green leaves were mo-
tionless, and lilac-colored flowers and the first
blades of green grass were pushing up and
lifting last year's leaves. The coarse evergreen
color of the small fir trees scattered here and
there among the birches was an unpleasant re-
minder of winter. On entering the forest the
horses began to snort and sweated visibly.

Peter the footman made some remark to the
coachman; the latter assented. But apparently
the coachman's sympathy was not enough for
Peter, and he turned on the box toward his
master.

"How pleasant it is, your excellency!" he said
with a respectful smile.

"What?"

"It's pleasant, your excellency!"

"What is he talking about?" thought Prince
Andrew. "Oh, the spring, I suppose," he
thought as he turned round. "Yes, really every-
thing is green already. . . . How early! The
birches and cherry and alders too are coming
out. . . . But the oaks show no sign yet. Ah, here
is one oak!"

At the edge of the road stood an oak. Prob-
ably ten times the age of the birches that formed
the forest, it was ten times as thick and twice as
tall as they. It was an enormous tree, its girth
twice as great as a man could embrace, and evi-
dently long ago some of its branches had been
broken off and its bark scarred. With its huge



WAR AND PEACE



ungainly limbs sprawling unsymmetrically,
and its gnarled hands and fingers, it stood an
aged, stern, and scornful monster among the
smiling birch trees. Only the dead-looking ev-
ergreen firs dotted about in the forest, and this
oak, refused to yield to the charm of spring or
notice either the spring or the sunshine.

"Spring, love, happiness!" this oak seemed to
say. "Are you not weary of that stupid, mean-
ingless, constantly repeated fraud? Always the
same and always a fraud! There is no spring,
no sun, no happiness! Look at those cramped
dead firs, ever the same, and at me too, stick-
ing out my broken and barked fingers just
where they have grown, whether from my back
or my sides: as they have grown so I stand, and
I do not believe in your hopes and your lies."

As he passed through the forest Prince An-
drew turned several times to look at that oak,
as if expecting something from it. Under the
oak, too, were flowers and grass, but it stood
among them scowling, rigid, misshapen, and
grim as ever.

"Yes, the oak is right, a thousand times right,"
thought Prince Andrew. "Let others the young
yield afresh to that fraud, but we know life,
our life is finished!"

A whole sequence of new thoughts, hopeless
but mournfully pleasant, rose in his soul in
connection with that tree. During this journey
he, as it were, considered his life afresh and ar-
rived at his old conclusion, restful in its hope-
lessness: that it was not for him to begin any-
thing anew but that he must live out his life,
content to do no harm, and not disturbing
himself or desiring anything.

CHAPTER II

PRINCE ANDREW had to see the Marshal of the
Nobility for the district in connection with the
affairs of the Ryazan estate of which he was
trustee. This Marshal was Count Ilyd Rost6v,
and in the middle of May Prince Andrew went
to visit him.

It was now hot spring weather. The whole
forest was already clothed in green. It was
dusty and so hot that on passing near water one
longed to bathe.

Prince Andrew, depressed and preoccupied
with the business about which he had to speak
to the Marshal, was driving up the avenue in
the grounds of the Rost6vs' house at Otradnoe.
He heard merry girlish cries behind some trees
on the right and saw a group of girls running to
cross the path of his caliche. Ahead of the rest
and nearer to him ran a dark-haired, remark-



ably slim, pretty girl in a yellow chintz dress,
wiih a white handkerchief on her head from
under which loose locks of hair escaped. The
girl was shouting something but, seeing that he
was a stranger, ran back laughing without look-
ing at him.

Suddenly, he did not know why, he felt a
pang. The day was so beautiful, the sun so
bright, everything around so gay, but that slim
pretty girl did not know, or wish to know, of
his existence and was contented and cheerful
in her own separate probably foolish but
bright and happy life. "What is she so glad
about? What is she thinking of? Not of the mil-
itary regulations or of the arrangement of the
Ryazan serfs' quitrents. Of what is she think-
ing? Why is she so happy?" Prince Andrew
asked himself with instinctive curiosity.

In 1809 Count Ilyd Rost6v was living at
Otrddnoe just as he had done in former years,
that is, entertaining almost the whole province
with hunts, theatricals, dinners, and music. He
was glad to see Prince Andrew, as he was to
see any new visitor, and insisted on his staying
the night.

During the dull day, in the course of which
he was entertained by his elderly hosts and by
the more important of the visitors (the old
count's house was crowded on account of an
approaching name day), Prince Andrew repeat-
edly glanced at Natisha, gay and laughing
among the younger members of the company,
and asked himself each time, "What is she
thinking about? Why is she so glad?"

That night, alone in new surroundings, he
was long unable to sleep. He read awhile and
then put out his candle, but relit it. It was hot
in the room, the inside shutters of which were
closed. He was cross with the stupid old man
(as he called Rost6v), who had made him stay
by assuring him that some necessary documents
had not yet arrived from town, and he was vexed
with himself for having stayed.

He got up and went to the window to open
it. As soon as he opened the shutters the moon-
light, as if it had long been watching for this,
burst into the room. He opened the casement.
The night was fresh, bright, and very still. Just
before the window was a row of pollard trees,
looking black on one side and with a silvery
light on the other. Beneath the trees grew some
kind of lush, wet, bushy vegetation with silver-
lit leaves and stems here and there. Farther
back beyond the dark trees a roof glittered with
dew, to the right was a leafy tree with brilliant-
ly white trunk and branches, and above it shone



BOOK SIX



237



the moon, nearly at its full, in a pale, almost
starless, spring sky. Prince Andrew leaned his
elbows on the window ledge and his eyes rested
on that sky.

His room was on the first floor. Those in the
rooms above were also awake. He heard female
voices overhead.

"Just once more," said a girlish voice above
him which Prince Andrew recognized at once.

"But when are you coming to bed?" replied
another voice.

"I won't, I can't sleep, what's the use? Come
now for the last time."

Two girlish voices sang a musical passage
the end of some song.

"Oh,howlovelyl Now go to sleep, and there's
an end of it."

"You go to sleep, but I can't," said the first
voice, coming nearer to the window. She was
evidently leaning right out, for the rustle of
her dress and even her breathing could be
heard. Everything was stone-still, like the moon
and its light and the shadows. Prince Andrew,
too, dared not stir, for fear of betraying his un-
intentional presence.

"S6nyal S6nyal" he again heard the first
speaker. "Oh, how can you sleep? Only look
how glorious it is! Ah, how glorious! Do wake
up, S6nya!" she said almost with tears in her
voice. "There never, never was such a lovely
night before!"

S6nya made some reluctant reply.

"Do just come and see what a moon! . . . Oh,
how lovely! Come here. . . . Darling, sweet-
heart, come here! There, you see? I feel like
sitting down on my heels, putting my arms
round my knees like this, straining tight, as
tight as possible, and flying away! Like this "

"Take care, you'll fall out."

He heard the sound of a scuffle and S6nya's
disapproving voice: "It's past one o'clock."

"Oh, you only spoil things for me. All right,

go>g ! "

Again all was silent, but Prince Andrew
knew she was still sitting there. From time to
time he heard a soft rustle and at times a sigh.

"O God, O God! What does it mean?" she
suddenly exclaimed. "To bed then, if it must
be!" and she slammed the casement.

"For her I might as well not exist!" thought
Prince Andrew while he listened to her voice,
for some reason expecting yet fearing that she
might say something about him. "There she is
again! As if it were on purpose," thought he.

In his soul there suddenly arose such an un-
expected turmoil of youthful thoughts and



hopes, contrary to the whole tenor of his life,
that unable to explain his condition to himself
he lay down and fell asleep at once.

CHAPTER III

NEXT MORNING, having taken leave of no one
but the count, and not waiting for the ladies to
appear, Prince Andrew set off for home.

It was already the beginning of June when
on his return journey he drove into the birch
forest where the gnarled old oak had made so
strange and memorable an impression on him.
In the forest the harness bells sounded yet more ,
muffled than they had done six weeks before,
for now all was thick, shady, and dense, and
the young firs dotted about in the forest did not
jar on the general beauty but, lending them*
selves to the mood around, were delicately
green with fluffy young shoots.

The whole day had been hot. Somewhere a
storm was gathering, but only a small cloud .
had scattered some raindrops lightly, sprin-
kling the road and the sappy leaves. The left
side of the forest was dark in the shade, the
right side glittered in the sunlight, wet and
shiny and scarcely swayed by the breeze. Every-
thing was in blossom, the nightingales trilled,
and their voices reverberated now near, now
far away.

"Yes, here in this forest was that oak with
which I agreed," thought Prince Andrew. "But
where is it?" he again wondered, gazing at the
left side of the road, and without recognizing
it he looked with admiration at the very oak
he sought. The old oak, quite transfigured,
spreading out a canopy of sappy dark-green
foliage, stood rapt and slightly trembling in the
rays of the evening sun. Neither gnarled fin-
gers nor old scars nor old doubts and sorrows
were any of them in evidence now. Through
the hard century-old bark, even where there
were no twigs, leaves had sprouted such as one
could hardly believe the old veteran could have
produced.

"Yes, it is the same oak," thought Prince An-
drew, and all at once he was seized by an un-
reasoning springtime feeling of joy and renew-
al. All the best moments of his life suddenly
rose to his memory. Austerlitz with the lofty
heavens, his wife's dead reproachful face,
Pierre at the ferry, that girl thrilled by the
beauty of the night, and that night itself and
the moon, and ... all this rushed suddenly to
his mind.

"No, life is not over at thirty-one!" Prince
Andrew suddenly decided finally and decisively.



838

"It is not enough for me to know what I have
in me everyone must know it: Pierre, and
that young girl who wanted to fly away into the
sky, everyone must know me, so that my life
may not be lived for myself alone while others
live so apart from it, but so that it may be re-
flected in them all, and they and I may live in
harmony!"



On reaching home Prince Andrew decided
to go to Petersburg that autumn and found all
sorts of reasons for this decision. A whole series
of sensible and logical considerations showing
it to be essential for him to go to Petersburg,
and even to re-enter the service, kept spring-
ing up in his mind. He could not now under-
stand how he could ever even have doubted the
necessity of taking an active share in life, just
as a month before he had not understood how
the idea of leaving the quiet country could
ever enter his head. It now seemed clear to him
that all his experience of life must be senseless-
ly wasted unless he applied it to some kind of
work and again played an active part in life.
He did not even remember how formerly, on
the strength of similar wretched logical argu-
ments, it had seemed obvious that he would
be degrading himself if he now, after the les-
sons he had had in life, allowed himself to be-
lieve in the possibility of being useful and in
the possibility of happiness or love. Nowreason
suggested quite the opposite. After that jour-
ney to Ryazan he found the country dull; his
former pursuits no longer interested him, and
often when sitting alone in his study he got up,
went to the mirror, and gazed a long time at his
own face. Then he would turn away to the por-
trait of his dead Lise, who with hair curled a la
grecque looked tenderly and gaily at him out
of the gilt frame. She did not now say those
former terrible words to him, but looked sim-
ply, merrily, and inquisitively at him. And
Prince Andrew, crossing his arms behind him,
Jong paced the room, now frowning, now smil-
ing, as he reflected on those irrational, inex-
pressible thoughts, secret as a crime, which al-
tered his whole life and were connected with
Pierre, with fame, with the girl at the window,
the oak, and woman's beauty and love. And if
anyone came into his room at such moments
he was particularly cold, stern, and above all
unpleasantly logical.

"My dear," Princess Mary entering at such a
moment would say, "little Nicholas can't go
out today, it's very cold."

"If it were hot," Prince Andrew would reply



WAR AND PEACE

at such times very dryly to his sister, "he could
go out in his smock, but as it is cold he must
wear warm clothes, which were designed for
that purpose. That is what follows from the
fact that it is cold; and not that a child who
needs fresh air should remain at home," he
would add with extreme logic, as if punishing
someone for those secret illogical emotions that
stirred within him.

At such moments Princess Mary would think
how intellectual work dries men up.



CHAPTER IV

PRINCE ANDREW arrived in Petersburg in Au-
gust, 1809. It was the time when the youthful
Sperdnski was at the zenith of his fame and his
reforms were being pushed forward with the
greatest energy. That same August the Emper-
or was thrown from his cal&che, injured his leg,
and remained three weeks at Peterhof, receiv-
ing Speranski every day and no one else. At
that time the two famous decrees were being
prepared that so agitated societyabolishing
court ranks and introducing examinations to
qualify for the grades of Collegiate Assessor
and State Councilorand not merely these but
a whole state constitution, intended to change
the existing order of government in Russia: le-
gal, administrative, and financial, from the
Council of State down to the district tribunals.
Now those vague liberal dreams with which the
Emperor Alexander had ascended the throne,
and which he had tried to put into effect with
the aid of his associates, Czartoryski, Novosflt-
sev, Kochubdy, and Str6ganov whom he him-
self in jest had called his Comitd desalut public
were taking shape and being realized.

Now all these men were replaced by Speran-
ski on the civil side, and Arakche"ev on the mili-
tary. Soon after his arrival Prince Andrew, as
a gentleman of the chamber, presented himself
at court and at a levee. The Emperor, though
he met him twice, did not favor him with a
single word. It had always seemed to Prince
Andrew before that he was antipathetic to the
Emperor and that the latter disliked his face
and personality generally, and in the cold, re-
pellent glance the Emperor gave him, he now
found further confirmation of this surmise.
The courtiers explained the Emperor's neglect
of him by His Majesty's displeasure at Bol-
k6nski's not having served since 1805.

"I know myself that one cannot help one's
sympathies and antipathies," thought Prince
Andrew, "so it will not do to present my pro-
posal for the reform of the army regulations to



BOOK SIX



the Emperor personally, but the project will
speak for itself."

He mentioned what he had written to an
old field marshal, a friend of his father's. The
field marshal made an appointment to see him,
received him graciously, and promised to in-
form the Emperor. A few days later Prince An-
drew received notice that he was to go to see
the Minister of War, Count Arakchev.

On the appointed day Prince Andrew en-
tered Count Arakchev's waiting room at nine
in the morning.

He did not know Arakch^ev personally, had
never seen him, and all he had heard of him in-
spired him with but little respect for the man.

"He is Minister of War, a man trusted by the
Emperor, and I need not concern myself about
his personal qualities: he has been commis-
sioned to consider my project, so he alone can
get it adopted/' thought Prince Andrew as he
waited among a number of important and un-
important people in Count Arakchev's wait-
ing room.

During his service, chiefly as an adjutant,
Prince Andrew had seen the anterooms of many
important men, and the different types of such
rooms were well known to him. Count Arak-
ch^ev's anteroom had quite a special character.
The faces of the unimportant people awaiting
their turn for an audience showed embarrass-
ment and servility; the faces of those of higher
rank expressed a common feeling of awkward-
ness, covered by a mask of unconcern and rid-
icule of themselves, their situation, and the per-
son for whom they were waiting. Some walked
thoughtfully up and down, others whispered
and laughed. Prince Andrew heard the nick-
name "SilaAndr^evich" 1 and the words, "Uncle
will give it to us hot," in reference to Count
Arakch^ev. One general (an important per-
sonage), evidently feeling offended at having
to wait so long, sat crossing and uncrossing his
legs and smiling contemptuously to himself.

But the moment the door opened one feel-
ing alone appeared on all faces that of fear.
Prince Andrew for the second time asked the
adjutant on duty to take in his name, but re-
ceived an ironical look and was told that his
turn would come in due course. After some
others had been shown in and out of the min-
ister's room by the adjutant on duty, an officer
who struck Prince Andrew by his humiliated
and frightened air was admitted at that terri-
ble door. This officer's audience lasted a long

l Sila means "force."



time. Then suddenly the grating sound of a
harsh voice was heard from the other side of
the door, and the officer-with pale face and
trembling lips came out and passed through
the waiting room, clutching his head.

After this Prince Andrew was conducted to
the door and the officer on duty said in a whis-
per, "To the right, at the window."

Prince Andrew entered a plain tidy room
and saw at the table a man of forty with a long
waist, a long closely cropped head, deep wrin-
kles, scowling brows above dull greenish-hazel
eyes and an overhanging red nose. Arakch^ev
turned his head toward him without looking at
him.

"What is your petition?" asked Arakchdev.

"I am not petitioning, your excellency," re-
turned Prince Andrew quietly.

Arakchev's eyes turned toward him.

"Sit down," said he. "Prince Bolk6nski?"

"I am not petitioning about anything. His
Majesty the Emperor has deigned to send your
excellency a project submitted by me . . ."

"You see, my dear sir, I have read your proj-
ect," interrupted Arakch^ev, uttering only the
first words amiably and then again without
looking at Prince Andrew relapsing gradual-
ly into a tone of grumbling contempt. "You
are proposing new military laws? There are
many laws but no one to carry out the old ones.
Nowadays everybody designs laws, it is easier
writing than doing."

"I came at His Majesty the Emperor's wish
to learn from your excellency how you propose
to deal with the memorandum I have present-
ed," said Prince Andrew politely.

"I have endorsed a resolution on your mem-
orandum and sent it to the committee. I do not
approve of it," said Arakch^ev, rising and tak-
ing a paper from his writing table. "Here!"
and he handed it to Prince Andrew.

Across the paper was scrawled in pencil,
without capital letters, misspelled, and with-
out punctuation: "Unsoundly constructed be-
cause resembles an imitation of the French mil-
itary code and from the Articles of War need-
lessly deviating."

"To what committee has the memorandum
been referred?" inquired Prince Andrew.

"To the Committee on Army Regulations,
and I have recommended that your honor
should be appointed a member, but without a
salary."

Prince Andrew smiled.

"I don't want one."

"A member without salary," repeated Arak-



240 WAR AND PEACE

chev. "I have the honor . . . Ehl Call the next
one! Who else is there?" he shouted, bowing to
Prince Andrew.



CHAPTER V

WHILE WAITING for the announcement of his
appointment to the committee Prince Andrew
looked up his former acquaintances, particu-
larly those he knew to be in power and whose
aid he might need. In Petersburg he now ex-
perienced the same feeling he had had on the
eve of a battle, when troubled by anxious cu-
riosity and irresistibly attracted to the ruling
circles where the future, on which the fate of
millions depended, was beingshaped. From the
irritation of the older men, the curiosity of the
uninitiated, the reserve of the initiated, the
hurry and preoccupation of everyone, and the
innumerable committees and commissions of
whose existence he learned every day, he felt
that now, in 1809, here in Petersburg a vast
civil conflict was in preparation, the command-
er in chief of which was a mysterious person he
did not know, but who was supposed to be a
man of genius Speranski. And this movement
of reconstruction of which Prince Andrew had
a vague idea, and Sperdnski its chief promoter,
began to interest him so keenly that the ques-
tion of the army regulations quickly receded to
a secondary place in his consciousness.

Prince Andrew was most favorably placed to
secure a good reception in the highest and most
diverse Petersburg circles of the day. The re-
forming party cordially welcomed and courted
him, in the first place because he was reputed to
be clever and very well read, and secondly be-
cause by liberating his serfs he had obtained
the reputation of being a liberal. The party of
the old and dissatisfied, who censured the in-
novations, turned to him expecting his sympa-
thy in their disapproval of the reforms, simply
because he was the son of his father. The fem-
inine society world welcomed him gladly, be-
cause he was rich, distinguished, a good match,
and almost a newcomer, with a halo of romance
on account of his supposed death and the tragic
loss of his wife. Besides this the general opin-
ion of all who had known him previously was
that he had greatly improved during these last
five years, having softened and grown more
manly, lost his former affectation, pride, and
contemptuous irony, and acquired the serenity
that comes with years. People talked about
him, were interested in him, and wanted to
meet him.

The day after his interview with Count Ar-



akch^ev, Prince Andrew spent the evening at
Count Kochub^y's. He told the count of his
interview with Sila Andre evich (Kochube*y
spoke of Arakche*ev by that nickname with the
same vague irony Prince Andrew had noticed
in the Minister of War's anteroom).

"Mon cher f even in this case you can't do
without Michael Mikhdylovich Sperdnski. He
manages everything. I'll speak to him. He has
promised to come this evening."

"What has Speranski to do with the army
regulations?" asked Prince Andrew.

Kochube*y shook his head smilingly, as if sur-
prised at Bolk6nski's simplicity.

"We were talking to him about you a few days
ago," Kochube*y continued, "and about your
freed plowmen."

"Oh, is it you, Prince, who have freed your
serfs?" said an old man of Catherine's day,
turning contemptuously toward Bolk6nski.

"It was a small estate that brought in no prof-
it," replied Prince Andrew, trying to extenuate
his action so as not to irritate the old man use-
lessly.

"Afraid of being late . . ." said the old man,
looking at Kochubdy.

"There's one thing I don't understand," he
continued. "Who will plow the land if they are
set free? It is easy to write laws, but difficult to

rule Just the same as now I ask you, Count

who will be heads of the departments when
everybody has to pass examinations?"

"Those who pass the examinations, I sup-
pose," replied Kochub^y, crossing his legs and
glancing round.

"Well, I have Prydniclmikov serving under
me, a splendid man, a priceless man, but he's
sixty. Is he to go up for examination?"

"Yes, that's a difficulty, as education is not at
all general, but . . ."

Count Kochub^ydid not finish. He rose, took
Prince Andrew by the arm, and went to meet
a tall, bald, fair man of about forty with a
large open forehead and a long face of unusu-
al and peculiar whiteness, who was just enter-
ing. The newcomer wore a blue swallow-tail
coat with a cross suspended from his neck and a
star on his left breast. It was Sperdnski. Prince
Andrew recognized him at once, and felt a
throb within him, as happens at critical mo-
ments of life. Whether it was from respect, en-
vy, or anticipation, he did not know. Speran-
ski's whole figure was of a peculiar type that
made him easily recognizable. In the society in
which Prince Andrew lived he had never seen
anyone who together with awkward and clum-



BOOK SIX



sy gestures possessed such calmness and self-
assurance; he had never seen so resolute yet
gentle an expression as that in those half-closed,
rather humid eyes, or so firm a smile that ex-
pressed nothing; nor had he heard such a re-
fined, smooth, soft voice; above all he had nev-
er seen such delicate whiteness of face or hands
hands which were broad, but very plump, soft,
and white. Such whiteness and softness Prince
Andrew had only seen on the faces of soldiers
who had been long in hospital. This was Spe-
rdnski, Secretary of State, reporter to the Em-
peror and his companion at Erfurt, where he
had more than once met and talked with Na-
poleon.

Sperdnski did not shift his eyes from one face
to another as people involuntarily do on en-
tering a large company and was in no hurry to
speak. He spoke slowly, with assurance that he
would be listened to, and he looked only at
the person with whom he was conversing.

Prince Andrew followed Sperdnski's every
word and movement with particular attention.
As happens to some people, especially to men
who judge those near to them severely, he al-
ways on meeting anyone newespecially any-
one whom, like Speranski, he knew by reputa-
tionexpected to discover in him the perfec-
tion of human qualities.

Speranski told Kochubdy he was sorry he
had been unable to come sooner as he had been
detained at the palace. He did not say that the
Emperor had kept him, and Prince Andrew
noticed this affectation of modesty. When Ko-
chube*y introduced Prince Andrew, Sperdnski
slowly turned his eyes to Bolk6nski with his
customary smile and looked at him in silence.

"I am very glad to make your acquaintance.
I had heard of you, as everyone has," he said
after a pause.

Kochube"y said a few words about the recep-
tion Arakch^ev had given Bolk6nski. Sperdnski
smiled more markedly.

"The chairman of the Committee on Army
Regulations is my good friend Monsieur Mag-
nftski," he said, fully articulating every word
and syllable, "and if you like I can put you in
touch with him." He paused at the full stop.
"I hope you will find him sympathetic and
ready to co-operate in promoting all that is
reasonable."

A circle soon formed round Sperdnski, and
the old man who had talked about his subordi-
nate Prydnichnikov addressed a question to
him.

Prince Andrew without joining in the con-



versation watched every movement of Sperdn-
ski's: this man, not long since an insignificant
divinity student, who now, Bolk6nski thought,
held in his hands those plump white hands
the fate of Russia. Prince Andrew was struck
by the extraordinarily disdainful composure
with which Sperdnski answered the old man.
He appeared to address condescending words
to him from an immeasurable height. When
the old man began to speak too loud, Sperdn-
ski smiled and said he could not judge of the
advantage or disadvantage of what pleased the
sovereign.

Having talked for a little while in the gen-
eral circle, Sperdnski rose and coming up to
Prince Andrew took him along to the other
end of the room. It was clear that he thought it
necessary to interest himself in Bolk6nski.

"I had no chance to talk with you, Prince,
during the animated conversation in which
that venerable gentleman involved me," he
said with a mildly contemptuous smile, as if
intimating by that smile that he and Prince
Andrew understood the insignificance of the
people with whom he had just been talking.
This flattered Prince Andrew. "I have known
of you for a long time: first from your action
with regard to your serfs, a first example, of
which it is very desirable that there should be
more imitators; and secondly because you are
one of those gentlemen of the chamber who
have not considered themselves offended by
the new decree concerning the ranks allotted
to courtiers, which is causing so much gossip
and tittle-tattle."

"No," said Prince Andrew, "my father did
not wish me to take advantage of the privilege.
I began the service from the lower grade."

"Your father, a man of the last century, evi-
dently stands above our contemporaries who
so condemn this measure which merely re-
establishes natural justice."

"I think, however, that these condemnations
have some ground," returned Prince Andrew,
trying to resist Sperdnski's influence, of which
he began to be conscious. He did not like to
agree with him in everything and felt a wish to
contradict. Though he usually spoke easily and
well, he felt a difficulty in expressing himself
now while talking with Sperdnski. He was too
much absorbed in observing the famous man's
personality.

"Grounds of personal ambition maybe,"
Sperdnski put in quietly.

"And of state interest to some extent," said
Prince Andrew.



242



WAR AND PEACE



"What do you mean?" asked Sperdnski quiet-
ly, lowering his eyes.

"I am an admirer of Montesquieu," replied
Prince Andrew, "and his idea that le principe
des monarchies est I'honneur me paratt in-
contestable. Certains droits et privileges de la
noblesse me paraissent Stre des moyens de sou-
tenir ce sentiment." *

The smile vanished from Sperdnski's white
face, which was much improved by the change.
Probably Prince Andrew's thought interested
him.

"Si vous envisagez la question sous ce point
de vue" * he began, pronouncing French with
evident difficulty, and speaking even slower
than in Russian but quite calmly.

Sperdnski went on to say that honor, I'hon-
neur, cannot be upheld by privileges harmful
to the service; that honor, I'honneur, is either
a negative concept of not doing what is blame-
worthy or it is a source of emulation in pursuit
of commendation and rewards, which recog-
nize it. His arguments were concise, simple,
and clear.

"An institution upholding honor, the source
of emulation, is one similar to the Legion
d'honneurot the great Emperor Napoleon, not
harmful but helpful to the success of the serv-
ice, but not a class or court privilege."

"I do not dispute that, but it cannot be de-
nied that court privileges have attained the
same end," returned Prince Andrew. "Every
courtier considers himself bound to maintain
his position worthily."

"Yet you do not care to avail yourself of the
privilege, Prince," said Sperdnski, indicating
by a smile that he wished to finish amiably an
argument which was embarrassing for his com-
panion. "If you will do me the honor of call-
ing on me on Wednesday," he added, "I will,
after talking with Magnitski, let you know
what may interest you, and shall also have the
pleasure of a more detailed chat with you."

Closing his eyes, he bowed a la franfaise,
without taking leave, and trying to attract as
little attention as possible, he left the room.

CHAPTER VI

DURING the first weeks of his stay in Petersburg
Prince Andrew felt the whole trend of thought
he had formed during his life of seclusion quite

1 "The principle of monarchies is honor seems
to me incontestable. Certain rights and privileges
for the aristocracy appear to me a means of main-
taining that sentiment."

* "If you regard the question from that point of
view."



overshadowed by the trifling cares that en-
grossed him in that city.

On returning home in the evening he would
jot down in his notebook four or five necessary
calls or appointments for certain hours. The
mechanism of life, the arrangement of the day
so as to be in time everywhere, absorbed the
greater part of his vital energy. He did noth-
ing, did not even think or find time to think,
but only talked, and talked successfully, of
what he had thought while in the country.

He sometimes noticed with dissatisfaction
that he repeated the same remark on the same
day in different circles. But he was so busy for
whole days together that he had no time to no-
tice that he was thinking of nothing.

As he had done on their first meeting at Ko-
chuby's, Sperdnski produced a strong impres-
sion on Prince Andrew on the Wednesday,
when he received him tthe-d-tte at his own
house and talked to him long and confiden-
tially.

To Bolk6nski so many people appeared con-
temptible and insignificant creatures, and he
so longed to find in someone the living ideal of
that perfection toward which he strove, that he
readily believed that in Sperdnski he had found
this ideal of a perfectly rational and virtuous
man. Had Sperdnski sprung from the same
class as himself and possessed the same breed-
ing and traditions, Bolkonski would soon have
discovered his weak, human, unheroic sides;
but as it was, Sperdnski's strange and logical
turn of mind inspired him with respect all the
more because he did not quite understand him.
Moreover, Sperdnski, either because he appre-
ciated the other's capacity or because he con-
sidered it necessary to win him to his side,
showed off his dispassionate calm reasonable-
ness before Prince Andrew and flattered him
with that subtle flattery which goes hand in
hand with self-assurance and consists in a tacit
assumption that one's companion is the only
man besides oneself capable of understanding
the folly of the rest of mankind and the reason-
ableness and profundity of one's own ideas.

During their long conversation on Wednes-
day evening, Sperdnski more than once re-
marked: "We regard everything that is above
the common level of rooted custom . . ." or,
with a smile: "But we want the wolves to be
fed and the sheep to be safe . . ." or: "They
cannot understand this . . ." and all in a way
that seemed to say: "We, you and I, under-
stand what they are and who we are/'

This first long conversation with Sperdnski



BOOK SIX



243



only strengthened in Prince Andrew the feel-
ing he had experienced toward him at their
first meeting. He saw in him a remarkable,
clear-thinking man of vast intellect who by
his energy and persistence had attained power,
which he was using solely for the welfare of
Russia. In Prince Andrew's eyes Sperdnski was
the man he would himself have wished to be
one who explained all the facts of life reason-
ably, considered important only what was ra-
tional, and was capable of applying the stand-
ard of reason to everything. Every thing seemed
so simple and clear in Sperdnski's exposition
that Prince Andrew involuntarily agreed with
him about everything. If he replied and ar-
gued, it was only because he wished to main-
tain his independence and not submit to Spe-
rdnski's opinions entirely. Everything was right
and everything was as it should be: only one
thing disconcerted Prince Andrew. This was
Sperdnski's cold, mirrorlike look, which did
not allow one to penetrate to his soul, and his
delicate white hands, which Prince Andrew
involuntarily watched as one does watch the
hands of those who possess power. This mirror-
like gaze and those delicate hands irritated
Prince Andrew, he knew not why. He was un-
pleasantly struck, too, by the excessive con-
tempt for others that he observed in Sperdnski,
and by the diversity of lines of argument he
used to support his opinions. He made use of
every kind of mental device, except analogy,
and passed too boldly, it seemed to Prince An-
drew, from one to another. Now he would take
up the position of a practical man and con-
demn dreamers; now that of a satirist, and
laugh ironically at his opponents; now grow
severely logical, or suddenly rise to the realm
of metaphysics. (This last resource was one he
very frequently employed.) He would transfer
a question to metaphysical heights, pass on to
definitions of space, time, and thought, and,
having deduced the refutation he needed,
would again descend to the level of the origi-
nal discussion.

In general the trait of Sperdnski's mentality
which struck Prince Andrew most was his ab-
solute and unshakable belief in the power and
authority of reason. It was evident that the
thought could never occur to him which to
Prince Andrew seemed so natural, namely, that
it is after all impossible to express all one
thinks; and that he had never felt the doubt,
"Is not all I think and believe nonsense?" And
it was just this peculiarity of Sperdnski's mind
that particularly attracted Prince Andrew.



During the first period of their acquaintance
Bolk6nski felt a passionate admiration for him
similar to that which he had once felt for
Bonaparte. The fact that Sperdnski was the
son of a village priest, and that stupid people
might meanly despise him on account of his
humble origin (as in fact many did), caused
Prince Andrew to cherish his sentiment for
him the more, and unconsciously to strengthen
it.

On that first evening Bolk6nski spent with
him, having mentioned the Commission for the
Revision of the Code of Laws, Sperdnski told
him sarcastically that the Commission had ex-
isted for a hundred and fifty years, had cost
millions, and had done nothing except that
Rosenkampf had stuck labels on the corre-
sponding paragraphs of the different codes.

"And that is all the state has for the millions
it has spent," said he. "We want to give the
Senate new juridical powers, but we have no
laws. That is why it is a sin for men like you,
Prince, not to serve in these times!"

Prince Andrew said that for that work an
education in jurisprudence was needed which
he did not possess.

"But nobody possesses it, so what would you
have? It is a vicious circle from which we must
break a way out."

A week later Prince Andrew was a member
of the Committee on Army Regulations and
what he had not at all expected was chairman
of a section of the committee for the revision
of the laws. At Sperdnski's request he took the
first part of the Civil Code that was being
drawn up and, with the aid of the Code Napo-
teon and the Institutes of Justinian, he worked
at formulating the section on Personal Rights.

CHAPTER VII

NEARLY TWO YEARS before this, in 1808, Pierre
on returning to Petersburg after visiting his
estates had involuntarily found himself in a
leading position among the Petersburg Free-
masons. He arranged dining and funeral lodge
meetings, enrolled new members, and busied
himself uniting various lodges and acquiring
authentic charters. He gave money for the
erection of temples and supplemented as far
as he could the collection of alms, in regard to
which the majority of members were stingy
and irregular. He supported almost single-
handed a poor house the order had founded in
Petersburg.

His life meanwhile continued as before, with
the same infatuations and dissipations. He



244 WAR AND PEACE

liked to dine and drink well, and though he
considered it immoral and humiliating could
not resist the temptations of the bachelor cir-
cles in which he moved.

Amid the turmoil of his activities and dis-
tractions, however, Pierre at the end of a year
began to feel that the more firmly he tried to
rest upon it, the more Masonic ground on
which he stood gave way under him. At the
same time he felt that the deeper the ground
sank under him the closer bound he involun-
tarily became to the order. When he had joined
the Freemasons he had experienced the feel-
ing of one who confidently steps onto the
smooth surface of a bog. When he put his foot
down it sank in. To make quite sure of the
firmness of the ground, he put his other foot
down and sank deeper still, became stuck in
it, and involuntarily waded knee-deep in the

bog-
Joseph Alex^evich was not in Petersburg-
he had of late stood aside from the affairs of
"the Petersburg lodges and lived almost entirely
in Moscow. All the members of the lodges
were men Pierre knew in ordinary life, and it
was difficult for him to regard them merely as
Brothers in Freemasonry and not as Prince B.
or Ivdn Vasilevich D., whom he knew in soci-
ety mostly as weak and insignificant men. Un-
der the Masonic aprons and insignia he saw
the uniforms and decorations at which they
aimed in ordinary life. Often after collecting
alms, and reckoning up twenty to thirty rubles
received for the most part in promises from a
dozen members, of whom half were as well able
to pay as himself, Pierre remembered the
Masonic vow in which each Brother promised
to devote all his belongings to his neighbor,
and doubts on which he tried not to dwell
arose in his soul.

He divided the Brothers he knew into four
categories. In the first he put those who did
not take an active part in the affairs of the
lodges or in human affairs, but were exclusive-
ly occupied with the mystical science of the or-
der: with questions of the threefold designa-
tion of God, the three primordial elements-
sulphur, mercury, and salt or the meaning of
the square and all the various figures of the
temple of Solomon. Pierre respected this class
of Brothers to which the elder ones chiefly be-
longed, including, Pierre thought, Joseph
Alexevich himself, but he did not share their
interests. His heart was not in the mystical as-
pect of Freemasonry.
In the second category Pierre reckoned him-



self and others like him, seeking and vacillat-
ing, who had not yet found in Freemasonry a
straight and comprehensible path, but hoped
to do so.

In the third category he included those
Brothers (the majority) who saw nothing in
Freemasonry but the external forms and cere-
monies, and prized the strict performance of
these forms without troubling about their pur-
port or significance. Such were Willarski and
even the Grand Master of the principal lodge.

Finally, to the fourth category also a great
many Brothers belonged, particularly those
who had lately joined. These according to
Pierre's observations were men who had no be-
lief in anything, nor desire for anything, but
joined the Freemasons merely to associate with
the wealthy young Brothers who were influ-
ential through their connections or rank, and
of whom there were very many in the lodge.

Pierre began to feel dissatisfied with what he
was doing. Freemasonry, at any rate as he saw
it here, sometimes seemed to him based merely
on externals. He did not think of doubting
Freemasonry itself, but suspected that Russian
Masonry had taken a wrong path and deviated
from its original principles. And so toward the
end of the year he went abroad to be initiated
into the higher secrets of the order.

In the summer of 1809 Pierre returned to
Petersburg. Our Freemasons knew from cor-
respondence with those abroad that Beziikhov
had obtained the confidence of many highly
placed persons, had been initiated into many
mysteries, had been raised to a higher grade,
and was bringing back with him much that
might conduce to the advantage of the Mason-
ic cause in Russia. The Petersburg Freemasons
all came to see him, tried to ingratiate them-
selves with him, and it seemed to them all that
he was preparing something for them and con-
cealing it.

A solemn meeting of the lodge of the second
degree was convened, at which Pierre promised
to communicate to the Petersburg Brothers
what he had to deliver to them from the high-
est leaders of their order. The meeting was a
full one. After the usual ceremonies Pierre
rose and began his address.

"Dear Brothers," he began, blushing and
stammering, with a written speech in his hand,
"it is not sufficient to observe our mysteries in
the seclusion of our lodge we must act act!
We are drowsing, but we must act." Pierre
raised his notebook and began to read.

"For the dissemination of pure truth and to



BOOK SIX



245



secure the triumph of virtue," he read, "we
must cleanse men from prejudice, diffuse prin-
ciples in harmony with the spirit of the times,
undertake the education of the young, unite
ourselves in indissoluble bonds with the wisest
men, boldly yet prudently overcome supersti-
tions, infidelity, and folly, and form of those
devoted to us a body linked together by unity
of purpose and possessed of authority and
power.

"To attain this end we must secure a pre-
ponderance of virtue over vice and must en-
deavor to secure that the honest man may,
even in this world, receive a lasting reward for
his virtue. But in these great endeavors we are
gravely hampered by the political institutions
of today. What is to be done in these circum-
stances? To favor revolutions, overthrow every-
thing, repel force by force? . . . No I We are very
far from that. Every violent reform deserves
censure, for it quite fails to remedy evil while
men remain what they are, and also because
wisdom needs no violence.

"The whole plan of our order should be
based on the idea of preparing men of firm-
ness and virtue bound together by unity of
conviction aiming at the punishment of vice
and folly, and patronizing talent and virtue:
raising worthy men from the dust and attach-
ing them to our Brotherhood. Only then will
our order have the power unobtrusively to
bind the hands of the protectors of disorder
and to control them without their being aware
of it. In a word, we must found a form of gov-
ernment holding universal sway, which should
be diffused over the whole world without de-
stroying the bonds of citizenship, and beside
which all other governments can continue in
their customary course and do everything ex-
cept what impedes the great aim of our order,
which is to obtain for virtue the victory over
vice. This aim was that of Christianity itself.
It taught men to be wise and good and for
their own benefit to follow the example and
instruction of the best and wisest men.

"At that time, when everything was plunged
in darkness, preaching alone was of course suf-
ficient. The novelty of Truth endowed her
with special strength, but now we need much
more powerful methods. It is now necessary
that man, governed by his senses, should find
in virtue a charm palpable to those senses. It
is impossible to eradicate the passions; but we
must strive to direct them to a noble aim, and
it is therefore necessary that everyone should
be able to satisfy his passions within the limits



of virtue. Our order should provide means to
that end.

"As soon as we have a certain number of
worthy men in every state, each of them again
training two others and all being closely united,
everything will be possible for our order,
which has already in secret accomplished much
for the welfare of mankind."

This speech not only made a strong impres-
sion, but created excitement in the lodge. The
majority of the Brothers, seeing in it dangerous
designs of Illuminism, 1 met it with a coldness
that surprised Pierre. The Grand Master be-
gan answering him, and Pierre began develop-
ing his views with more and more warmth. It
was long since there had been so stormy a meet-
ing. Parties were formed, some accusing Pierre
of Illuminism, others supporting him. At that
meeting l>e was struck for the first time by the
endless variety of men's minds, which prevents
a truth from ever presenting itself identically
to two persons. Even those members who
seemed to be on his side understood him in
their own way with limitations and alterations
he could not agree to, as what he always wanted
most was to convey his thought to others just
as he himself understood it.

At the end of the meeting the Grand Master
with irony and ill-will reproved Bezukhov for
his vehemence and said it was not love of vir-
tue alone, but also a love of strife that had
moved him in the dispute. Pierre did not an-
swer him and asked briefly whether his pro-
posal would be accepted. He was told that it
would not, and without waiting for the usual
formalities he left the lodge and went home.

CHAPTER VIII

AGAIN PIERRE was overtaken by the depression
he so dreaded. For three days after the delivery
of his speech at the lodge he lay on a sofa at
home receiving no one and going nowhere.

It was just then that he received a letter from
"his wife, who implored him to see her, telling
him how grieved she was about him and how
she wished to devote her whole life to him.

At the end of the letter she informed him
that in a few days she would return to Peters-
burg from abroad.

Following this letter one of the Masonic
Brothers whom Pierre respected less than the
others forced his way in to see him and, turn-
ing the conversation upon Pierre's matrimoni-
al affairs, by way of fraternal advice expressed

1 The Illuminati sought to substitute republican
for monarchical institutions.



WAR AND PEACE



the opinion that his severity to his wife was
wrong and that he was neglecting one of the
first rules of Freemasonry by not forgiving the
penitent.

At the same time his mother-in-law, Prince
Vasfli's wife, sent to him imploring him to
come if only for a few minutes to discuss a most
important matter. Pierre saw that there was a
conspiracy against him and that they wanted
to reunite him with his wife, and in the mood
he then was, this was not even unpleasant to
him. Nothing mattered to him. Nothing in life
seemed to him of much importance, and un-
der the influence of the depression that pos-
sessed him he valued neither his liberty nor his
resolution to punish his wife.

"No one is right and no one is to blame; so
she too is not to blame," he thought.

If he did not at once give his consent to a
reunion with his wife, it was only because in
his state of depression he did not feel able to
take any step. Had his wife come to him, he
would not have turned her away. Compared to
what preoccupied him, was it not a matter of
indifference whether he lived with his wife or
not?

Without replying either to his wife or his
mother-in-law, Pierre late one night prepared
for a journey and started for Moscow to see
Joseph Alex^evich. This is what he noted in
his diary:

Moscow, ijth November

I have just returned from my benefactor, and
hasten to write down what I have experienced.
Joseph Alexevich is living poorly and has for
three years been suffering from a painful disease
of the bladder. No one has ever heard him utter a
groan or a word of complaint. From morning till
late at night, except when he eats his very plain
food, he is working at science. He received me
graciously and made me sit down on the bed on
which he lay. I made the sign of the Knights of
the East and of Jerusalem, and he responded in
the same manner, asking me with a mild smile
what I had learned and gained in the Prussian
and Scottish lodges. I told him everything as best
I could, and told him what I had proposed to our
Petersburg lodge, of the bad reception I had en-
countered, and of my rupture with the Brothers.
Joseph Alexdevich, having remained silent and
thoughtful for a good while, told me his view of
the matter, which at once lit up for me my whole
past and the future path I should follow. He sur-
prised me by asking whether I remembered the
threefold aim of the order: (i) The preservation
and study of the mystery, (a) The purification and
reformation of oneself for its reception, and (3)
The improvement of the human race by striving



for such purification. Which is the principal aim
of these three? Certainly self-reformation and self-
purification. Only to this aim can we always strive
independently of circumstances. But at the same
time just this aim demands the greatest efforts of
us; and so, led astray by pride, losing sight of this
aim, we occupy ourselves either with the mystery
which in our impurity we are unworthy to receive,
or seek the reformation of the human race while
ourselves setting an example of baseness and prof-
ligacy. Ilium inism is not a pure doctrine, just be-
cause it is attracted by social activity and puffed
up by pride. On this ground Joseph Alexevich
condemned my speech and my whole activity, and
in the depth of my soul I agreed with him. Talk-
ing of my family affairs he said to me, "the chief
duty of a true Mason, as I have told you, lies in
perfecting himself. We often think that by remov-
ing all the difficulties of our life we shall more
quickly reach our aim, but on the contrary, my
dear sir, it is only in the midst of worldly cares that
we can attain our three chief aims: (i) Self-knowl-
edgefor man can only know himself by compari-
son, (2) Self-perfecting, which can only be attained
by conflict, and (3) The attainment of the chief
virtue love of death. Only the vicissitudes of life
can show us its vanity and develop our innate love
of death or of rebirth to a new life." These words
are all the more remarkable because, in spite of
his great physical sufferings, Joseph Alexeevich is
never weary of life though he loves death, for
which in spite of the purity and loftiness of his
inner man he does not yet feel himself sufficiently
prepared. My benefactor then explained to me
fully the meaning of the Great Square of creation
and pointed out to me that the numbers three and
seven are the basis of everything. He advised me
not to avoid intercourse with the Petersburg
Brothers, but to take up only second-grade posts in
the lodge, to try, while diverting the Brothers
from pride, to turn them toward the true path of
self-knowledge and self-perfecting. Besides this he
advised me for myself personally above all to keep
a watch over myself, and to that end he gave me
a notebook, the one I am now writing in and in
which I will in future note down all my actions.

Petersburg, 2}rd November

I am again living with my wife. My mother-in-
law came to me in tears and said that Helene was
here and that she implored me to hear her; that
she was innocent and unhappy at my desertion,
and much more. I knew that if I once let myself
see her I should not have strength to go on refus-
ing what she wanted. In my perplexity I did not
know whose aid and advice to seek. Had my bene-
factor been here he would have told me what to
do. I went to my room and reread Joseph Alexe-
vich's letters and recalled my conversations with
him, and deduced from it all that I ought not to
refuse a suppliant, and ought to reach a helping
hand to everyone especially to one so closely



bound to me and that I must bear my cross.
But if I forgive her for the sake of doing right,
then let union with her have only a spiritual aim.
That is what I decided, and what I wrote to Joseph
Alexe"evich. I told my wife that I begged her to
forget the past, to forgive me whatever wrong I
may have done her, and that I had nothing to for-
give. It gave me joy to tell her this. She need not
know how hard it was for me to see her again. I
have settled on the upper floor of this big house
and am experiencing a happy feeling of regenera-
tion.

CHAPTER IX

AT THAT TIME, as always happens, the highest
society that met at court and at the grand balls
was divided into several circles, each with its
own particular tone. The largest of these was
the French circle of the Napoleonic alliance,
the circle of Count Rumydntsev and Caulain-
court. In this group HeUene, as soon as she had
settled in Petersburg with her husband, took a
very prominent place. She was visited by the
members of the French embassy and by many
belonging to that circle and noted for their in-
tellect and polished manners.

Hellene had been at Erfurt during the fa-
mous meeting of the Emperors and had brought
from there these connections with the Napole-
onic notabilities. At Erfurt her success had been
brilliant. Napoleon himself had noticed her in
the theater and said of her: "C'est un superbe
animal." l Her success as a beautiful and ele-
gant woman did not surprise Pierre, for she
had become even handsomer than before. What
did surprise him was that during these last two
years his wife had succeeded in gaining the
reputation "d' une femme charmante, aussi
spirituelle que belle." 3 The distinguished
Prince de Ligne wrote her eight-page letters.
Bilibin saved up his epigrams to produce them
in Countess Bezukhova's presence. To be re-
ceived in the Countess Bezukhova's salon was
regarded as a diploma of intellect Young men
read books before attending Hlne's evenings,
to have something to say in her salon, and
secretaries of the embassy, and even ambassa-
dors, confided diplomatic secrets to her, so that
in a way Hdene was a power. Pierre, who knew
she was very stupid, sometimes attended, with
a strange feeling of perplexity and fear, her
evenings and dinner parties, where politics,
poetry, and philosophy were discussed. At these
parties his feelings were like those of a con-

1 "That's a superb animal."
""Of a charming woman, as witty as she is
lovely."



BOOK SIX 247

juror who always expects his trick to be found



out at any moment. But whether because stu-
pidity was just what was needed to run such a
salon, or because those who were deceived
found pleasure in the deception, at any rate it
remained unexposed and Hlene Bezukhova's
reputation as a lovely and clever woman be-
came so firmly established that she could say
the emptiest and stupidest things andyet every-
body would go into raptures over every word
of hers and look for a profound meaning in it
of which she herself had no conception.

Pierre was just the husband needed for a
brilliant society woman. He was that absent-
minded crank, a grand seigneur husband who
was in no one's way, and far from spoiling the
high tone and general impression of the draw-
ing room, he served, by the contrast he pre-
sented to her, as an advantageous background
to his elegant and tactful wife. Pierre during
the last two years, as a result of his continual
absorption in abstract interests and his sincere
contempt for all else, had acquired in his wife's
circle, which did not interest him, that air of
unconcern, indifference, and benevolence to-
ward all, which cannot be acquired artificially
and therefore inspires involuntary respect. He
entered his wife's drawing room as one enters
a theater, was acquainted with everybody,
equally pleased to see everyone, and equally in-
different to them all. Sometimes he joined in a
conversation which interested him and, regard-
less of whether any "gentlemen of the embassy"
were present or not, lispingly expressed his
views, which were sometimes not at all in ac-
cord with the accepted tone of the moment.
But the general opinion concerning the queer
husband of "the most distinguished woman in
Petersburg" was so well established that no
one took his freaks seriously.

Among the many young men who frequented
her house every day, Boris Drubetsk6y, who had
already achieved great success in the service,
was the most intimate friend of the Bezukhov
household since Hlne's return from Erfurt.
Hlene spoke of him as "mon page" and
treated him like a child. Her smile for him was
the same as for everybody, but sometimes that
smile made Pierre uncomfortable. Toward him
Boris behaved with a particularly dignified and
sad deference. This shade of deference also dis-
turbed Pierre. He had suffered so painfully
three years before from the mortification to
which his wife had subjected him that he now
protected himself from the danger of its repeti-
tion, first by not being a husband to his wife,



WAR AND PEACE



and secondly by not allowing himself to sus-
pect.

"No, now that she has become a bluestock-
ing she has finally renounced her former in-
fatuations," he told himself. "There has never
been an instance of a bluestocking being car-
ried away by affairs of the heart"a statement
which, though gathered from an unknown
source, he believed implicitly. Yet strange to
say Borfs' presence in his wife's drawing room
(and he was almost always there) had a physi-
cal effect upon Pierre; it constricted his limbs
and destroyed the unconsciousness and free-
dom of his movements.

"What a strange antipathy," thought Pierre,
"yet I used to like him very much."

In the eyes of the world Pierre was a great
gentleman, the rather blind and absurd hus-
band of a distinguished wife, a clever crank
who did nothing but harmed nobody and was
a first-rate, good-natured fellow. But a com-
plex and difficult process of internal develop-
ment was taking place all this time in Pierre's
soul, revealing much to him and causing him
many spiritual doubts and joys.

CHAPTER X

PIERRE WENT ON with his diary, and this is what
he wrote in it during that time:
November



Got up at eight, read the Scriptures, then went
to my duties. [By Joseph Alexevich's advice Pierre
had entered the service of the state and served on
one of the committees.] Returned home for dinner
and dined alone the countess had many visitors
I do not like. I ate and drank moderately and after
dinner copied out some passages for the Brothers.
In the evening I went down to the countess and
told a funny story about B., and only remembered
that I ought not to have done so when everybody
laughed loudly at it.

I am going to bed with a happy and tranquil
mind. Great God, help me to walk in Thy paths,
(i) to conquer anger by calmness and delibera-
tion, (2) to vanquish lust by self-restraint and re-
pulsion, (3) to withdraw from worldliness, but not
avoid (a) the service of the state, (b) family du-
ties, (c) relations with my friends, and (d) the
management of my affairs.

2jth November

I got up late. On waking I lay long in bed yield-
ing to sloth. O God, help and strengthen me that I
may walk in Thy ways! Read the Scriptures, but
without proper feeling. Brother Uriisov came and
we talked about worldly vanities. He told me of
the Emperor's new projects. I began to criticize
them, but remembered my rules and my benefac-
tor's wordsthat a true Freemason should be a



zealous worker for the state when his aid is re-
quired and a quiet onlooker when not called on
to assist. My tongue is my enemy. Brothers G. V.
and O. visited me and we had a preliminary talk
about the reception of a new Brother. They laid
on me the duty of Rhetor. I feel myself weak and
unworthy. Then our talk turned to the interpre-
tation of the seven pillars and steps of the Tem-
ple, the seven sciences, the seven virtues, the seven
vices, and the seven gifts of the Holy Spirit.
Brother O. was very eloquent. In the evening the
admission took place. The new decoration of the
premises contributed much to the magnificence of
the spectacle. It was Borfs Drubetskoy who was ad-
mitted. I nominated him and was the Rhetor. A
strange feeling agitated me all the time I was
alone with him in the dark chamber. I caught my-
self harboring a feeling of hatred toward him
which I vainly tried to overcome. That is why I
should really like to save him from evil and lead
him into the path of truth, but evil thoughts of
him did not leave me. It seemed to me that his ob-
ject in entering the Brotherhood was merely to be
intimate and in favor with members of our lodge.
Apart from the fact that he had asked me several
times whether N. and S. were members of our
lodge (a question to which I could not reply) and
that according to my observation he is incapable
of feeling respect for our holy order and is too pre-
occupied and satisfied with the outer man to de-
sire spiritual improvement, I had no cause to
doubt him, but he seemed to me insincere, and all
the time I stood alone with him in the dark tem-
ple it seemed to me that he was smiling con-
temptuously at my words, and I wished really to
stab his bare breast with the sword I held to it. I
could not be eloquent, nor could I frankly men-
tion my doubts to the Brothers and to the Grand
Master. Great Architect of Nature, help me to find
the true path out of the labyrinth of lies!

After this, three pages were left blank in the
diary, and then the following was written:

I have had a long and instructive talk alone with
Brother V.,who advised me to hold fast by Brother
A. Though I am unworthy, much was revealed to
me. Adonai is the name of the creator of the world.
Elohim is the name of the ruler of all. The third
name is the name unutterable which means the
All. Talks with Brother V. strengthen, refresh, and
support me in the path of virtue. In his presence
doubt has no place. The distinction between the
poor teachings of mundane science and our sa-
cred all-embracing teaching is clear to me. Human
sciences dissect everything to comprehend it, and
kill everything to examine it. In the holy science
of our order all is one, all is known in its entirety
and life. The Trinity-the three elements of mat-
terare sulphur, mercury, and salt. Sulphur is of
an oily and fiery nature; in combination with salt
by its fiery nature it arouses a desire in the latter
by means of which it attracts mercury, seizes it,



BOOK SIX



holds it, and in combination produces other bod-
ies. Mercury is a fluid, volatile, spiritual essence.
Christ, the Holy Spirit, HimI . . .

3rd December

Awoke late, read the Scriptures but was apa-
thetic. Afterwards went and paced up and down
the large hall. I wished to meditate, but instead
my imagination pictured an occurrence of four
years ago, when D61okhov, meeting me in Moscow
after our duel, said he hoped I was enjoying per-
fect peace of mind in spite of my wife's absence.
At the time I gave him no answer. Now I recalled
every detail of that meeting and in my mind gave
him the most malevolent and bitter replies. I rec-
ollected myself and drove away that thought only
when I found myself glowing with anger, but I did
not sufficiently repent. Afterwards Boris Drubet-
sk6y came and began relating various adventures.
His coming vexed me from the first, and I said
something disagreeable to him. He replied. I flared
up and said much that was unpleasant and even
rude to him. He became silent, and I recollected
myself only when it was too late. My God, I can-
not get on with him at all. The cause of this is my
egotism. I set myself above him and so become
much worse than he, for he is lenient to my rude-
ness while I on the contrary nourish contempt for
him. O God, grant that in his presence I may
rather see my own vileness, and behave so that he
too may benefit. After dinner I fell asleep and as
I was drowsing off I clearly heard a voice saying in
my left ear, "Thy day!"

I dreamed that I was walking in the dark and
was suddenly surrounded by dogs, but I went on
undismayed. Suddenly a smallish dog seized my
left thigh with its teeth and would not let go. I
began to throttle it with my hands. Scarcely had I
torn it off before another, a bigger one, began bit-
ing me. I lifted it up, but the higher I lifted it the
bigger and heavier it grew. And suddenly Brother
A. came and, taking my arm, led me to a building
to enter which we had to pass along a narrow
plank. I stepped on it, but it bent and gave way
and I began to clamber up a fence which I could
scarcely reach with my hands. After much effort I
dragged myself up, so that my legs hung down on
one side and my body on the other. I looked round
and saw Brother A. standing on the fence and
pointing me to a broad avenue and garden, and in
the garden was a large and beautiful building. I
woke up. O Lord, great Architect of Nature, help
me to tear from myself these dogs my passions
especially the last, which unites in itself the
strength of all the former ones, and aid me to
enter that temple of virtue to a vision of which I
attained in my dream.

7th December

I dreamed that Joseph Alexevich was sitting in
my house, and that I was very glad and wished to
entertain him. It seemed as if I chattered inces-



santly with other people and suddenly remem-
bered that this could not please him, and I wished
to come close to him and embrace him. But as
soon as I drew near I saw that his face had changed
and grown young, and he was quietly telling me
something about the teaching of our order, but
so softly that I could not hear it. Then it seemed
that we all left the room and something strange
happened. We were sitting or lying on the floor.
He was telling me something, and I wished to
show him my sensibility, and not listening to
what he was saying I began picturing to myself the
condition of my inner man and the grace of God
sanctifying me. And tears came into my eyes, and
I was glad he noticed this. But he looked at me
with vexation and jumped up, breaking off his re-
marks. I felt abashed and asked whether what he
had been saying did not concern me; but he did
not reply, gave me a kind look, and then we sud-
denly found ourselves in my bedroom where there
is a double bed. He lay down on the edge of it and
I burned with longing to caress him and lie down
too. And he said, "Tell me frankly what is your
chief temptation? Do you know it? I think you
know it already." Abashed by this question, I re-
plied that sloth was my chief temptation. He
shook his head incredulously; and even more
abashed, I said that though I was living with my
wife as he advised, I was not living with her as her
husband. To this he replied that one should not
deprive a wife of one's embraces and gave me to
understand that that was my duty. But I replied
that I should be ashamed to do it, and suddenly
everything vanished. And I awoke and found in
my mind the text from the Gospel: "The life was
the light of men. And the light shineth in dark-
ness; and the darkness comprehended it not."
Joseph Alexevich's face had looked young and
bright. That day I received a letter from my bene-
factor in which he wrote about "conjugal duties."

9th December

I had a dream from which I awoke with a throb-
bing heart. I saw that I was in Moscow in my house,
in the big sitting room, and Joseph Alexevich
came in from the drawing room. I seemed to know
at once that the process of regeneration had al-
ready taken place in him, and I rushed to meet
him. I embraced him and kissed his hands, and
he said, "Hast thou noticed that my face is dif-
ferent?" I looked at him, still holding him in my
arms, and saw that his face was young, but that
he had no hair on his head and his features were
quite changed. And I said, "I should have known
you had I met you by chance," and I thought to
myself, "Am I telling the truth?" And suddenly I
saw him lying like a dead body; then he gradually
recovered and went with me into my study carry-
ing a large book of sheets of drawing paper; I
said, "I drew that," and he answered by bowing
his head. I opened the book, and on all the pages
there were excellent drawings. And in my dream



250



WAR AND PEACE



I knew that these drawings represented the love
adventures of the soul with its beloved. And on its
pages I saw a beautiful representation of a maiden
in transparent garments and with a transparent
body, flying up to the clouds. And I seemed to
know that this maiden was nothing else than a
representation of the Song of Songs. And looking
at those drawings I dreamed I felt that I was do-
ing wrong, but could not tear myself away from
them. Lord, help mel My God, if Thy forsaking
me is Thy doing, Thy will be done; but if I am
myself the cause, teach me what I should do! I
shall perish of my debauchery if Thou utterly de-
sertest me!



CHAPTER XI

THE Rosx6vs' MONETARY AFFAIRS had not im-
proved during the two years they had spent in
the country.

Though Nicholas Rostov had kept firmly to
his resolution and was still serving modestly in
an obscure regiment, spending comparatively
little, the way of life at Otradnoe Mftenka's
management of affairs, in particular was such
that the debts inevitably increased every year.
The only resource obviously presenting itself
to the old count was to apply for an official
post, so he had come to Petersburg to look for
one and also, as he said, to let the lassies enjoy
themselves for the last time.

Soon after their arrival in Petersburg Berg
proposed to Ve*ra and was accepted.

Though in Moscow the Rostovs belonged to
the best society without themselves giving it a
thought, yet in Petersburg their circle of ac-
quaintances was a mixed and indefinite one.
In Petersburg they were provincials, and the
very people they had entertained in Moscow
without inquiring to what set they belonged,
here looked down on them.

The Rost6vs lived in the same hospitable
way in Petersburg as in Moscow, and the most
diverse people met at their suppers. Country
neighbors from Otradnoe, impoverished old
squires and their daughters, Per6nskaya a maid
of honor, Pierre Beziikhov, arid the son of their
district postmaster who had obtained a post in
Petersburg. Among the men who very soon be-
came frequent visitors at the Rost6vs' house in
Petersburg were Boris, Pierre whom the count
had met in the street and dragged home with
him, and Berg who spent whole days at the
Rost6vs' and paid the eldest daughter, Count-
ess Ve'ra, the attentions a young man pays when
he intends to propose.

Not in vain had Berg shown everybody his
right hand wounded at Austerlitz and held a



perfectly unnecessary sword in his left. He nar
rated that episode so persistently and with st\
important an air that everyone believed in the
merit and usefulness of his deed, and he had
obtained two decorations for Austerlitz.

In the Finnish war he also managed to dis-
tinguish himself. He had picked up the scrap
of a grenade that had killed an aide-de-camp
standing near the commander in chief and had
taken it to his commander. Just as he had done
after Austerlitz, he related this occurrence at
such length and so insistently that everyone
again believed it had been necessary to do this,
and he received two decorations for the Fin-
nish war also. In 1809 he was a captain in the
Guards, wore medals, and held some special
lucrative posts in Petersburg.

Though some skeptics smiled when told of
Berg's merits, it could not be denied that he
was a painstaking and brave officer, on excel-
lent terms with his superiors, and a moral
young man with a brilliant career before him
and an assured position in society.

Four years before, meeting a German com-
rade in the stalls of a Moscow theater, Berg
had pointed out Ve'ra Rost6va to him and had
said in German, "das soil mein Weib werden," 1
and from that moment had made up his mind
to marry her. Now in Petersburg, having con-
sidered the Rost6vs' position and his own, he
decided that the time had come to propose.

Berg's proposal was at first received with a
perplexity that was not flattering to him. At
first it seemed strange that the son of an ob-
scure Livonian gentleman should propose mar-
riage to a Countess Rost6va; but Berg's chief
characteristic was such a naive and goocl-
natured egotism that the Rost6vs involuntarily
came to think it would be a good thing, since
he himself was so firmly convinced that it was
good, indeed excellent. Moreover, the Rostovs'
affairs were seriously embarrassed, as the suitor
could not but know; and above all, Ve'ra was
twenty-four, had been taken out everywhere,
and though she was certainly good-looking and
sensible, no one up to now had proposed to
her. So they gave their consent.

"You see," said Berg to his comrade, whom
he called "friend" only because he knew that
everyone has friends, "you see, I have consid-
ered it all, and should not marry if I had not
thought it all out or if it were in any way un-
suitable. But on the contrary, my papa and
mamma are now provided for I have arranged
that rent for them in the Baltic Provincesand

1 "That girl shall be my wife."



I can live in Petersburg on my pay, and with
her fortune and my good management we can
get along nicely. I am not marrying for money
I consider that dishonorablebut a wife
should bring her share and a husband his. I
have my position in the service, she has con-
nections and some means. In our times that is
worth something, isn't it? But above all, she is
a handsome, estimable girl, and she loves
me. . . ."

Berg blushed and smiled.

"And I love her, because her character is
sensible and very good. Now the other sister,
though they are the same family, is quite dif-
ferentan unpleasant character and has not
the same intelligence. She is so ... you know?
. . . Unpleasant . . . But my fiancee! . . . Well,
you will be coming," he was going to say, "to
dine," but changed his mind and said, "to take
tea with us," and quickly doubling up his
tongue he blew a small round ring of tobacco
smoke, perfectly embodying his dream of hap-
piness.

After the first feeling of perplexity aroused
in the parents by Berg's proposal, the holiday
tone of joyousness usual at such times took pos-
session of the family, but the rejoicing was ex-
ternal and insincere. In the family's feeling to-
ward this wedding a certain awkwardness and
constraint was evident, as if they were ashamed
of not having loved Ve*ra sufficiently and of be-
ing so ready to get her off their hands. The old
count felt this most. He would probably have
been unable to state the cause of his embarrass-
ment, but it resulted from the state of his af-
fairs. He did not know at all how much he had,
what his debts amounted to, or what dowry he
could give V6ra. When his daughters were
born he had assigned to each of them, for her
dowry, an estate with three hundred serfs; but
one of these estates had already been sold, and
the other was mortgaged and the interest so
much in arrears that it would have to be sold,
so that it was impossible to give it to Vera. Nor
had he any money.

Berg had already been engaged a month,
and only a week remained before the wedding,
but the count had not yet decided in his own
mind the question of the dowry, nor spoken to
hiswifeabout it. Atone time the count thought
of giving her the Ryazan estate or of selling a
forest, at another time of borrowing money on
a note of hand. A few days before the wedding
Berg entered the count's study early one morn-
ing and, with a pleasant smile, respectfully
asked his future father-in-law to let him know



BOOK SIX 251

what Wra's dowry would be. The count was so



disconcerted by this long-foreseen inquiry that
without consideration he gave the first reply
that came into his head. "I like your being busi-
nesslike about it. ... I like it. You shall be
satisfied. . . ."

And patting Berg on the shoulder he got up,
wishing to end the conversation. But Berg,
smiling pleasantly, explained that if he did not
know for certain how much Vra would have
and did not receive at least part of the dowry in
advance, he would have to break matters off.

"Because, consider, Count if I allowed my-
self to marry now without having definite
means to maintain my wife, I should be acting
badly "

The conversation ended by the count, who
wished to be generous and to avoid further im-
portunity, saying that he would give a note of
hand for eighty thousand rubles. Berg smiled
meekly, kissed the count on the shoulder, and
said that he was very grateful, but that it was
impossible for him to arrange his new life with-
out receiving thirty thousand in ready money.
"Or at least twenty thousand, Count," he added,
"and then a note of hand for only sixty thou-
sand."

"Yes, yes, all rightl" said the count hurried-
ly. "Only excuse me, my dear fellow, I'll give
you twenty thousand and a note of hand for
eighty thousand as well. Yes, yes! Kiss me."

CHAPTER XII

NATASHA WAS SIXTEEN and it was the year 1809,
the very year to which she had counted on her
fingers with Boris after they had kissed four
years ago. Since then she had not seen him. Be-
fore S6nya and her mother, if Boris happened
to be mentioned, she spoke quite freely of that
episode as of some childish, long-forgotten mat-
ter that was not worth mentioning. But in the
secret depths of her soul the question whether
her engagement to Boris was a jest or an im-
portant, binding promise tormented her.

Since Boris left Moscow in 1805 to join the
army he had not seen the Rostovs. He had been
in Moscow several times, and had passed near
Otradnoe, but had never been to see them.

Sometimes it occurred to Natdsha that he did
not wish to see her, and this conjecture was
confirmed by the sad tone in which her elders
spoke of him.

"Nowadays old friends are not remembered,"
the countess would say when Borfs was men-
tioned.

Anna Mikhaylovna also had of late visited



252



WAR AND PEACE



them less frequently, seemed to hold herself
with particular dignity, and always spoke rap-
turously and gratefully of the merits of her son
and the brilliant career on which he had en-
tered. When the Rost6vs came to Petersburg
Boris called on them.

He drove to their house in some agitation.
The memory of Natasha was his most poetic
recollection. But he went with the firm inten-
tion of letting her and her parents feel that the
childish relations between himself and Natasha
could not be binding either on her or on him.
He had a brilliant position in society thanks to
his intimacy with Countess Bezukhova, a bril-
liant position in the service thanks to the pat-
ronage of an important personage whose com-
plete confidence he enjoyed, and he was begin-
ning to make plans for marrying one of the
richest heiresses in Petersburg, plans which
might very easily be realized. When he entered
the Rost6vs' drawing room Natdsha was in her
own room. When she heard of his arrival she
almost ran into the drawing room, flushed and
beaming with a more than cordial smile.

Boris remembered Natasha in a short dress,
with dark eyes shining from under her curls
and boisterous, childish laughter, as he had
known her four years before; and so he was tak-
en aback when quite a different Natasha en-
tered, and his face expressed rapturous aston-
ishment. This expression on his face pleased
Natasha.

"Well, do you recognize your little madcap
playmate?" asked the countess.

Boris kissed Natdsha's hand and said that he
was astonished at the change in her.

"How handsome you have grown!"

"I should think sol replied Natdsha's laugh-
ing eyes.

"And is Papa older?" she asked.

Natdsha sat down and, without joining in
Boris* conversation with the countess, silently
and minutely studied her childhood's suitor.
He felt the weight of that resolute and affec-
tionate scrutiny and glanced at her occasional-
ly.

Boris* uniform, spurs, tie, and the way his
hair was brushed were all comme il faut and in
the latest fashion. This Natdsha noticed at
once. He sat rather sideways in the armchair
next to the countess, arranging with his right
hand the cleanest of gloves that fitted his left
hand like a skin, and he spoke with a particu-
larly refined compression of his lips about the
amusements of the highest Petersburg society,
recalling with mild irony old times in Mos-



cow and Moscow acquaintances. It was not
accidentally, Natasha felt, that he alluded,
when speaking of the highest aristocracy, to an
ambassador's ball he had attended, and to in-
vitations he had received from N.N. and S.S.

All this time Natdsha sat silent, glancing up
at him from under her brows. This gaze dis-
turbed and confused Boris more and more. He
looked round more frequently toward her, and
broke off in what he was saying. He did not
stay more than ten minutes, then rose and took
his leave. The same inquisitive, challenging,
and rather mocking eyes still looked at him.
After his first visit Boris said to himself that Na-
tdsha attracted him just as much as ever, but
that he must not yield to that feeling, because
to marry her, a girl almost without fortune,
would mean ruin to his career, while to renew
their former relations without intending to
marry her would be dishonorable. Boris made
up his mind to avoid meeting Natdsha, but de-
spite that resolution he called again a few days
later and began calling often and spending
whole days at the Rost6vs'. It seemed to him
that he ought to have an explanation with Na-
tdsha and tell her that the old times must be
forgotten, that in spite of everything . . . she
could not be his wife, that he had no means,
and they would never let hermarryhim. But he
failed to do so and felt awkward about enter-
ing on such an explanation. From day to day
he became more and more entangled. It seemed
to her mother and S6nya that Natdsha was in
love with Boris as of old. She sang him his fa-
vorite songs, showed him her album, making
him write in it, did not allow him to allude to
the past, letting it be understood how delight-
ful was the present; and every day he went away
in a fog, without having said what he meant to,
and not knowing what he was doing or why he
came, or how it would alf end. He left off visit-
ing Hdlene and received reproachful notes
from her every day, and yet he continued to
spend whole days with the Rost6vs.

CHAPTER XIII

ONE NIGHT when the old countess, in nightcap
and dressing jacket, without her false curls,
and with her poor little knob of hair showing
under her white cotton cap, knelt sighing and
groaning on a rug and bowing to the ground
in prayer, her door creaked and Natdsha, also
in a dressing jacket with slippers on her bare
feet and her hair in curlpapers, ran in. The
countess her prayerful mood dispelled
looked round and frowned. She was finishing



her last prayer: "Can it be that this couch will
be my grave?" Natasha, flushed and eager,
seeing her mother in prayer, suddenly checked
her rush, half sat down, and unconsciously put
out her tongue as if chiding herself. Seeing that
her mother was still praying she ran on tiptoe
to the bed and, rapidly slipping one little foot
against the other, pushed off her slippers and
jumped onto the bed the countess had feared
might become her grave. This couch was high,
with a feather bed and five pillows each small-
er than the one below. Natasha jumped on it,
sank into the feather bed, rolled over to the
wall, and began snuggling up the bedclothes
as she settled down, raising her knees to her
chin, kicking out and laughing almost inaudi-
bly, now covering herself up head and all, and
now peeping at her mother. The countess
finished her prayers and came to the bed
with a stern face, but seeing that Natasha's
head was covered, she smiled in her kind,
weak way.

"Now then, now then!" said she.

"Mamma, can we have a talk? Yes?" said Na-
tasha. "Now, just one on your throat and an-
other . . . that'll do!" And seizing her mother
round the neck, she kissed her on the throat.
In her behavior to her mother Natasha seemed
rough, but she was so sensitive and tactful that
however she clasped her mother she always
managed to do it without hurting her or mak-
ing her feel uncomfortable or displeased.

"Well, what is it tonight?" said the mother,
having arranged her pillows and waited until
Natdsha, after turning over a couple of times,
had settled down beside her under the quilt,
spread out her arms, and assumed a serious ex-
pression.

These visits of Natasha's at night before the
count returned from his club were one of the
greatest pleasures of both mother and daugh-
ter.

"What is it tonight? But I have to tell
you ..."

Natdsha put her hand on her mother's mouth.

"About Boris ... I know," she said seriously;
"that's what I have come about. Don't say it
I know. No, do tell me!" and she removed her
hand. "Tell me, Mamma! He's nice?"

"Natasha, you are sixteen. At your age I was
married. You say Boris is nice. He is very nice,
and I love him like a son. But what then? . . .
What are you thinking about? You have quite
turned his head, I can see that. . . ."

As she said this the countess looked round
at her daughter. Natdsha was lying looking



BOOK SIX 253

steadily straight before her at one of the ma-



hogany sphinxes carved on the corners of the
bedstead, so that the countess only saw her
daughter's face in profile. That face struck her
by its peculiarly serious and concentrated ex-
pression.

Natdsha was listening and considering.

"Well, what then?" said she.

"You have quite turned his head, and why?
What do you want of him? You know you can't
marry him."

"Why not?" said Natdsha, without changing
her position.

"Because he is young, because he is poor, be-
cause he is a relation . . . and because you your-
self don't love him."

"How do you know?"

"I know. It is not right, darling!"

"But if I want to . . ," said Natdsha.

"Leave off talking nonsense," said the count-
ess.

"But if I want to . . ."

"Natdsha, I am in earnest . . ."

Natdsha did not let her finish. She drew the
countess' large hand to her, kissed it on the
back and then on the palm, then again turned
it over and began kissing first one knuckle,
then the space between the knuckles, then the
next knuckle, whispering, "January, February,
March, April, May. Speak, Mamma, why don't
you say anything? Speak!" said she, turning to
her mother, who was tenderly gazing at her
daughter and in that contemplation seemed to
have forgotten all she had witffc&to say.

"It won't do, my love! Not everyone will un-
derstand this friendship dating from your
childish days, and to see him so intimate with
you may injure you in the eyes of other young
men who visit us, and above all it torments
him for nothing. He may already have found a
suitable and wealthy match, and now he's half
crazy."

"Crazy?" repeated Natdsha.

"I'll tell you some things about myself. I had
a cousin . . ."

"I know! Cyril Matvdich . . . but he is old."

"He was not always old. But this is what I'll
do, Natdsha, I'll have a talk with Boris. He
need not come so often, ..."

"Why not, if he likes to?"

"Because I know it will end in nothing. . , ."

"How can you know? No, Mamma, don't
speak to him! What nonsense!" said Natdsha
in the tone of one being deprived of her prop-
erty. "Well, I won't marry, but let him come if
he enjoys it and I enjoy it." Natdsha smiled



254



WAR AND PEACE



and looked at her mother. "Not to marry, but
just so," she added.

"How 50, my pet?"

"Just so. There's no need for me to marry
him. But . . . just 50."

"Just so, just so," repeated the countess, and
shaking all over, she went off into a good-
humored, unexpected, elderly laugh.

"Don't laugh, stop!" cried Natasha. "You're
shaking the whole bedl You're awfully likeme,
just such another giggler. . . . Wait . . ." and
she seized the countess' hands and kissed a
knuckle of the little finger, saying, "June," and
continued, kissing, "July, August," on the oth-
er hand. "But, Mamma, is he very much in
love? What do you think? Was anybody ever
so much in love with you? And he's very nice,
very, very nice. Only not quite my taste he is
so narrow, like the dining-room clock. . . . Don't
you understand? Narrow, you know gray, light
gray..."

"What rubbish you're talking!" said the
countess.

Natasha continued: "Don't you really un-
derstand? Nicholas would understand. . . . Be-
zukhov, now, is blue, dark-blue and red, and
he is square."

"You flirt with him too," said the countess,
laughing.

"No, he is a Freemason, I have found out.
He is fine, dark-blue and red. . . . How can I
explain it to you?"

"Little countess!" the count's voice called
from behind the door. "You're not asleep?"
Natdsha jumped up, snatched up her slippers,
and ran barefoot to her own room.

It was a long time before she could sleep.
She kept thinking that no one could under-
stand all that she understood and all there was
in her.

"S6nya?" she thought, glancing at that curled-
up, sleeping little kitten with her enormous
plait of hair. "No, how could she? She's virtu-
ous. She fell in love with Nicholas and does
not wish to know anything more. Even Mam-
ma does not understand. It is wonderful how
clever I am and how . . . charming she is," she
went on, speaking of herself in the third per-
son, and imagining it was some very wise man
the wisest and best of men who was saying
it of her. "There is everything, everything in
her," continued this man. "She is unusually in-
telligent, charming . . . and then she is pretty,
uncommonly pretty, and agile she swims and
rides splendidly . . . and her voice! One can
really say it's a wonderful voice 1"



She hummed a scrap from her favorite opera
by Cherubini, threw herself on her bed, laughed
at the pleasant thought that she would imme-
diately fall asleep, called Dunydsha the maid
to put out the candle, and before Dunydsha
had left the room had already passed into yet
another happier world of dreams, where every-
thing was as light and beautiful as in reality,
and even more so because it was different.

Next day the countess called Boris aside and
had a talk with him, after which he ceased com-
ing to the Rost6vs*.

CHAPTER XIV

ON THE THIRTY-FIRST OF DECEMBER, New Year's

Eve, 1809-10, an old grandee of Catherine's
day was giving a ball and midnight supper.
The diplomatic corps and the Emperor himself
were to be present.

The grandee's well-known mansion on the
English Quay glittered with innumerable lights.
Police were stationed at the brightly lit en-
trance which was carpeted with red baize, and
not only gendarmes but dozens of police of-
ficers and even the police master himself stood
at the porch. Carriages kept driving away and
fresh ones arriving, with red-liveried footmen
and footmen in plumed hats. From the car-
riages emerged men wearing uniforms, stars,
and ribbons, while ladies in satin and ermine
cautiously descended the carriage steps which
were let down for them with a clatter, and then
walked hurriedly and noiselessly over the baize
at the entrance.

Almost every time a new carriage drove up a
whisper ran through the crowd and caps were
doffed.

"The Emperor? . . . No, a minister . . . prince
. . . ambassador. Don't you see the plumes? . . ."
was whispered among the crowd.

One person, better dressed than the rest,
seemed to know everyone and mentioned by
name the greatest dignitaries of the day.

A third of the visitors had already arrived,
but the Rost6vs, who were to be present, were
still hurrying to get dressed.

There had been many discussions and prepa-
rations for this ball in the Rost6v family, many
fears that the invitation would not arrive, that
the dresses would not be ready, or that some-
thing would not be arranged as it should be.

Mdrya Igndtevna Per6nskaya, a thin and
shallow maid of honor at the court of the Dow-
ager Empress, who was a friend and relation of
the countess and piloted the provincial Rost6vs



BOOK SIX



in Petersburg high society, was to accompany
them to the ball.

They were to call for her at her house in the
Taurida Gardens at ten o'clock, but it was al-
ready five minutes to ten, and the girls were
not yet dressed.

Natasha was going to her first grand ball. She
had got up at eight that morning and had been
in a fever of excitement and activity all day.
All her powers since morning had been con-
centrated on ensuring that they all she her-
self, Mamma, and S6nya should be as well
dressed as possible. S6nya and her mother put
themselves entirely in her hands. The countess
was to wear a claret-colored velvet dress, and
the two girls white gauze over pink silk slips,
with roses on their bodices and their hair
dressed & In grecque.

Everything essential had already been done;
feet, hands, necks, and ears washed, perfumed,
and powdered, as befits a ball; the openwork
silk stockings and white satin shoes with rib-
bons were already on; the hairdressing was al-
most done. S6nya was finishing dressing and so
was the countess, but Natasha, who had bustled
about helping them all, was behindhand. She
was still sitting before a looking-glass with a
dressing jacket thrown over her slender shoul-
ders. S6nya stood ready dressed in the middle
of the room and, pressing the head of a pin till
it hurt her dainty finger, was fixingon a lastrib-
bon that squeaked as the pin went through it.

"That's not the way, that's not the way,
S6nya!" cried Natdsha turning her head and
clutching with both hands at her hair which
the maid who was dressing it had not time to
release. "That bow is not right. Come here!"

S6nya sat down and Natdsha pinned the rib-
bon on differently.

"Allow me, Missl I can't do it like that," said
the maid who was holding Natasha's hair.

"Oh, dearl Well then, wait. That's right,
S6nya."

"Aren't you ready? It is nearly ten," came
the countess' voice.

"Directly! Directly! And you, Mamma?"

"I have only my cap to pin on."

"Don't do it without me!" called Natdsha.
"You won't do it right."

"But it's already ten."

They had decided to be at the ball by half-
past ten, and Natdsha had still to get dressed
and they had to call at the Taurida Gardens.

When her hair was done, Natasha, in her
short petticoat from under which her dancing
shoes showed, and in her mother's dressing



jacket, ran up to S6nya, scrutinized her, and
then ran to her mother. Turning her mother's
head this way and that, she fastened on the cap
and, hurriedly kissing her gray hair, ran back
to the maids who were turning up the hem of
her skirt.

The cause of the delay was Natasha's skirt,
which was too long. Two maids were turning
up the hem and hurriedly biting off the ends
of thread. A third with pins in her mouth was
running about between the countess and S6n-
ya, and a fourth held the whole of the gossa-
mer garment up high on one uplifted hand.

"Mdvra, quicker, darling!"

"Give me my thimble, Miss, from there . . ."

"Whenever will you be ready?" asked the
count coming to the door. "Here is some scent.
Per6nskaya must be tired of waiting."

"It's ready, Miss," said the maid, holding up
the shortened gauze dress with two fingers, and
blowing arid shaking something off it, as if by
this to express a consciousness of the airiness
and purity of what she held.

Natdsha began putting on the dress.

"In a minute! In a minute! Don't come in,
Papa!" she cried to her father as he opened the
door speaking from under the filmy skirt which
still covered her whole face.

Sonya slammed the door to. A minute later
they let the count in. He was wearing a blue
swallow-tail coat, shoes and stockings, and was
perfumed and his hair pomaded.

"Oh, Papal how nice you look! Charming!"
cried Natasha, as she stood in the middle of the
room smoothing out the folds of the gauze.

"If you please, Miss! allow me," said the
maid, who on her knees was pulling the skirt
straight and shifting the pins from one side of
her mouth to the other with her tongue.

"Say what you like," exclaimed S6nya, in a
despairing voice as she looked at Natdsha, "say
what you like, it's still too long."

Natdsha stepped back to look at herself in
the pier glass. The dress was too long.

"Really, madam, it is not at all too long,"
said Mdvra, crawling on her knees after her
young lady.

"Well, if it's too long we'll take it up ...
we'll tack it up in one minute," said the reso-
lute Dunydsha taking a needle that was stuck
on the front of her little shawl and, still kneel-
ing on the floor, set to work once more.

At that moment, with soft steps, the count-
ess came in shyly, in her cap and velvet gown.

"Oo-oo, my beauty!" exclaimed the count,
"she looks better than any of you!"



WAR AND PEACE



He would have embraced her but, blushing,
she stepped aside fearing to be rumpled.

"Mamma, your cap, more to this side," said
Natdsha. "I'll arrange it," and she rushed for-
ward so that the maids who were tacking up
her skirt could not move fast enough and a
piece of gauze was torn off.

"Oh goodness! What has happened? Really
it was not my fault I "

"Never mind, I'll run it up, it won't show,"
said Dunydsha.

"What a beauty a very queen!" said the
nurse as she came to the door. "And S6nya!
They are lovely I"

At a quarter past ten they at last got into
their carriages and started. But they had still
to call at the Taurida Gardens.

Per6nskaya was quite ready. In spite of her
age and plainness she had gone through the
same process as the Rost6vs, but with less flur-
ryfor to her it was a matter of routine. Her
ugly old body was washed, perfumed, and pow-
dered in just the same way. She had washed be-
hind her ears just as carefully, and when she
entered her drawing room in her yellow dress,
wearing her badge as maid of honor, her old
lady's maid was as full of rapturous admira-
tion as the Rost6vs' servants had been.

She praised the Rost6vs' toilets. They praised
her taste and toilet, and at eleven o'clock, care-
ful of their coiffures and dresses, they settled
themselves in their carriages and drove off.

CHAPTER XV

NATASHA had not had a moment free since
early morning and had not once had time to
think of what lay before her.

In the damp chill air and crowded closeness
of the swaying carriage, she for the first time
vividly imagined what was in store for her
there at the ball, in those brightly lighted rooms
with music, flowers, dances, the Emperor,
and all the brilliant young people of Peters-
burg. The prospect was so splendid that she
hardly believed it would come true, so out of
keeping was it with the chill darkness and
closeness of the carriage. She understood all
that awaited her only when, after stepping
over the red baize at the entrance, she entered
the hall, took off her fur cloak, and, beside
S6nya and in front of her mother, mounted
the brightly illuminated stairs between the
flowers. Only then did she remember how she
must behave at a ball, and tried to assume the
majestic air she considered indispensable for
a girl on such an occasion. But, fortunately for



her, she felt her eyes growing misty, she saw
nothing clearly, her pulse beat a hundred to
the minute, and the blood throbbed at her
heart. She could not assume that pose, which
would have made her ridiculous, and she moved
on almost fainting from excitement and try-
ing with all her might to conceal it. And this
was the very attitude that became her best. Be-
fore and behind them other visitors were en-
tering, also talking in low tones and wearing
ball dresses. The mirrors on the landing re-
flected ladies in white, pale-blue, and pink
dresses, with diamonds and pearls on their bare
necks and arms.

Natasha looked in the mirrors and could not
distinguish her reflection from the others. All
was blended into one brilliant procession. On
entering the ballroom the regular hum of
voices, footsteps, and greetings deafened Na-
tdsha, and the light and glitter dazzled her still
more. The host and hostess, who had already
been standing at the door for half an hour re-
peating the same words to the various arrivals,
"Charmt de vous voir" l greeted the Rost6vs
and Per6nskaya in the same manner.

The two girls in their white dresses, each
with a rose in her black hair, both curtsied in
the same way, but the hostess' eye involuntarily
rested longer on the slim Natasha. She looked
at her and gave her alone a special smile in
addition to her usual smile as hostess. Looking
at her she may have recalled the golden, irre-
coverable days of her own girlhood and her
own first ball. The host also followed Natdsha
with his eyes and asked the count which was
his daughter.

"Charming!" said he, kissing the tips of his
fingers.

In the ballroom, guests stood crowding at
the entrance doors awaiting the Emperor. The
countess took up a position in one of the front
rows of that crowd. Natdsha heard and felt
that several people were asking about her and
looking at her. She realized that those noticing
her liked her, and this observation helped to
calm her.

"There are some like ourselves and some
worse," she thought.

Per6nskaya was pointing out to the count-
ess the most important people at the ball.

"That is the Dutch ambassador, do you see?
That gray-haired man," she said, indicating an
old man with a profusion of silver-gray curly
hair, who was surrounded by ladies laughing at
something he said.

1 "Delighted to sec you."



BOOK SIX



257



"Ah, here she is, the Queen of Petersburg,
Countess Bezukhova," said Per6nskaya, indi-
cating Hlne who had just entered. "How
lovely! She is quite equal to Marya Ant6nov-
na. 1 See how the men, young and old, pay court
to her. Beautiful and clever . . . they say Prince

is quite mad about her. But see, those two,

though not good-looking, are even more run
after."

She pointed to a lady who was crossing the
room followed by a very plain daughter.

"She is a splendid match, a millionairess,"
said Per6nskaya. "And look, here come her
suitors."

"That is Bezukhova's brother, Anatole Ku-
ragin," she said, indicating a handsome officer
of the Horse Guards who passed by them with
head erect, looking at somcthingover the heads
of the ladies. "He's handsome, isn't he? I hear
they will marry him to that rich girl. But your
cousin, Drubetsk6y, is also very attentive to
her. They say she has millions. Oh yes, that's
the French ambassador himself!" she replied
to the countess' inquiry about Caulaincourt.
"Looks as if he were a king! All the same, the
French are charming, very charming. No one
more charming in society. Ah, here she is! Yes,
she is still the most beautiful of them all, our
Marya Ant6novna! And how simply she is
dressed! Lovely! And that stout one in spec-
tacles is the universal Freemason," she went
on, indicating Pierre. "Put him beside his wife
and he looks a regular buffoon!"

Pierre, swaying his stout body, advanced,
making way through the crowd and nodding
to right and left as casually and good-natured-
ly as if he were passing through a crowd at a
fair. He pushed through, evidently looking for
someone.

Natasha looked joyfully at the familiar face
of Pierre, "the buffoon," as Per6nskaya had
called him, and knew he was looking for them,
and for her in particular. He had promised to
be at the ball and introduce partners to her.

But before he reached them Pierre stopped
beside a very handsome, dark man of middle
height, and in a white uniform, who stood by
a window talking to a tall man wearing stars
and a ribbon. Natasha at once recognized the
shorter and younger man in the white uni-
form: it was Bolk6nski, who seemed to her
to have grown much younger, happier, and
better-looking.

"There's someone else we know Bolk6nski,
do you see, Mamma?" said Natasha, pointing

1 Alexander I's mistress. TR.



out Prince Andrew. "You remember, he stayed
a night with us at Otradnoe."

"Oh, you know him?" said Per6nskaya. "I
can't bear him. // fait & present la pluie et le
beau temps. 9 He's too proud for anything.
Takes after his father. And he's hand in glove
with Sperdnski, writing some project or other.
Just look how he treats the ladies! There's one
talking to him and he has turned away," she
said, pointing at him. "I'd give it to him if he
treated me as he does those ladies."

CHAPTER XVI

SUDDENLY EVERYBODY STIRRED, began talking,
and pressed forward and then back, and be-
tween the two rows, which separated, the Em-
peror entered to the sounds of music that had
immediately struck up. Behind him walked his
host and hostess. He walked in rapidly, bow-
ing to right and left as if anxious to get the
first moments of the reception over. The band
played the polonaise in vogue at that time on
account of the words that had been set to it,
beginning: "Alexander, Elisaveta, all our hearts
you ravish quite ..." The Emperor passed on
to the drawing room, the crowd made a rush
for the doors, and several persons with excited
faces hurried there and back again. Then the
crowd hastily retired from the drawing-room
door, at which the Emperor reappeared talk-
ing to the hostess. A young man, looking dis-
traught, pounced down on the ladies, asking
them to move aside. Some ladies, with faces be-
traying complete forgetfulness of all the rules
of decorum, pushed forward to the detriment
of their toilets. The men began to choose part-
ners and take their places for the polonaise.

Everyone moved back, and the Emperor
came smiling out of the drawing room leading
his hostess by the hand but not keeping time
to the music. The host followed with Marya
Ant6novna Naryshkina; then came ambassa-
dors, ministers, and various generals, whom
Per6nskaya diligently named. More than half
the ladies already had partners and were tak-
ing up, or preparing to take up, their positions
for the polonaise. Natasha felt that she would
be left with her mother and S6nya among a
minority of women who crowded near the wall,
not having been invited to dance. She stood
with her slender arms hanging down, her
scarcely defined bosom rising and falling regu-
larly, and with bated breath and glittering,
frightened eyes gazed straight before her, evi-
dently prepared for the height of joy or misery.

8 "He is all the rage just now."



WAR AND PEACE



She was not concerned about the Emperor or
any of those great people whom Per6nskaya
was pointing out she had but one thought:
"Is it possible no one will ask me, that I shall
not be among the first to dance? Is it possible
that not one of all these men will notice me?
They do not even seem to see me, or if they do
they look as if they were saying, 'Ah, she's not
the one I'm after, so it's not worth looking at
her!' No, it's impossible," she thought. "They
must know how I long to dance, how splendid-
ly I dance, and how they would enjoy dancing
with me."

The strains of the polonaise, which had con-
tinued for a considerable time, had begun to
sound like a sad reminiscence in Natasha's ears.
She wanted to cry. Per6nskaya had left them.
The count was at the other end of the room.
She and the countess and S6nya were standing
by themselves as in the depths of a forest amid
that crowd of strangers, with no one interested
in them and not wanted by anyone. Prince An-
drew with a lady passed by, evidently not recog-
nizing them. The handsome Anatole was smil-
ingly talking to a partner on his arm and
looked at Natdsha as one looks at a wall. Boris
passed them twice and each time turned away.
Berg and his wife, who were not dancing, came
up to them.

This family gathering seemed humiliating
to Natdsha as if there were nowhere else for
the family to talk but here at the ball. She did
not listen to or look at Vera, who was telling
her something about her own green dress.

At last the Emperor stopped beside his last
partner (he had danced with three) and the
music ceased. A worried aide-de-camp ran up
to the Rostrivs requesting them to stand far-
ther back, though as it was they were already
close to the wall, and from the gallery re-
sounded the distinct, precise, enticingly rhyth-
mical strains of a waltz. The Emperor looked
smilingly down the room. A minute passed but
no one had yet begun dancing. An aide-de-
camp, the Master of Ceremonies, went up to
Countess Bezukhova and asked her to dance.
She smilingly raised her hand and laid it on
his shoulder without looking at him. The aide-
de-camp, an adept in his art, grasping his part-
ner firmly round her waist, with confident de-
liberation started smoothly, gliding first round
the edge of the circle, then at the corner of the
room he caught Hlne's left hand and turned
her, the only sound audible, apart from the
ever-quickening music, being the rhythmic click
of the spurs on his rapid, agile feet, while at



every third beat his partner's velvet dress spread
out and seemed to flash as she whirled round.
Natdsha gazed at them and was ready to cry
because it was not she who was dancing that
first turn of the waltz.

Prince Andrew, in the white uniform of a
cavalry colonel, wearing stockings and danc-
ing shoes, stood looking animated and bright
in the front row of the circle not far from the
Rost6vs. Baron Firhoff was talking to him
about the first sitting of the Council of State to
be held next day. Prince Andrew, as one close-
ly connected with Sperdnski and participating
in the work of the legislative commission, could
give reliable information about that sitting,
concerning which various rumors were cur-
rent. But not listening to what Firhoff was say-
ing, he was gazing now at the sovereign and
now at the men intending to dance who had
not yet gathered courage to enter the circle.

Prince Andrew was watching these men
abashed by the Emperor's presence, and the
women who were breathlessly longing to be
asked to dance.

Pierre came up to him and caught him by
the arm.

"You always dance. I have a protge*e, the
young Rost6va, here. Ask her," he said.

"Where is she?" asked Bolk6nski. "Excuse
me!" he added, turning to the baron, "we will
finish this conversation elsewhere at a ball
one must dance." He stepped forward in the
direction Pierre indicated. The despairing, de-
jected expression of Natdsha's face caught his
eye. He recognized her, guessed her feelings,
saw that it was her dbut, remembered her
conversation at the window, and with an ex-
pression of pleasure on his face approached
Countess Rost6va.

"Allow me to introduce you to my daughter,"
said the countess, with heightened color.

"I have the pleasure of being already ac-
quainted, if the countess remembers me," said
Prince Andrew with a low and courteous bow
quite belying Per6nskaya's remarks about his
rudeness, and approaching Natdsha he held
out his arm to grasp her waist before he had
completed his invitation. He asked her to waltz.
That tremulous expression on Natdsha's face,
prepared either for despair or rapture, sud-
denly brightened into a happy, grateful, child-
like smile.

"I have long been waiting for you," that
frightened happy little girl seemed to say by
the smile that replaced the threatened tears, as
she raised her hand to Prince Andrew's shoul-



BOOK SIX



der. They were the second couple to enter the
circle. Prince Andrew was one of the best danc-
ers of his day and Natasha danced exquisitely.
Her little feetin their white satin dancing shoes
did their work swiftly, lightly, and independ-
ently of herself, while her face beamed with
ecstatic happiness. Her slender bare arms and
neck werenot beautiful compared to Helene's
her shoulders looked thin and her bosom un-
developed. But Helene seemed, as it were, hard-
ened by a varnish left by the thousands of looks
that had scanned her person, while Natasha was
like a girl exposed for the first time, who would
have felt very much ashamed had she not been
assured that this was absolutely necessary.

Prince Andrew liked dancing, and wishing to
escape as quickly as possible from the political
and clever talk which everyone addressed to
him, wishing also to break up the circle of re-
straint he disliked, caused by the Emperor's
presence, he danced, and had chosen Natasha
because Pierre pointed her out to him and be-
cause she was the first pretty girl who caught
his eye; but scarcely had he embraced that slen-
der supple figure and felt her stirring so close
to him and smiling so near him than the wine
of her charm rose to his head, and he felt him-
self revived and rejuvenated when after leav-
ing her he stood breathing deeply and watch-
ing the other dancers.

CHAPTER XVII

AFTER PRINCE ANDREW, Boris came up to ask
Natasha fora dance, and then the aide-de-camp
who had opened the ball, and several other
young men, so that, flushed and happy, and
passing on her superfluous partners to S6nya,
she did not cease dancing all the evening. She
noticed and saw nothing of what occupied ev-
eryone else. Not only did she fail to notice that
the Emperor talked a long time with the French
ambassador, and how particularly gracious he
was to a certain lady, or that Prince So-and-so
and So-and-so did and said this and that, and
that Helene had great success andwashonored
by the special attention of So-and-so, but she
did not even see the Emperor, and only noticed
that he had gone because the ball became live-
lier after his departure. For one of the merry
cotillions before supper Prince Andrew was
again her partner. He reminded her of their
first encounter in the Otradnoe avenue, and
how she had been unable to sleep that moon-
light night, and told her how he had involun-
tarily overheard her. Natasha blushed at that
recollection and tried to excuse herself, as if



there had been something to be ashamed of in
what Prince Andrew had overheard.

Like all men who have grown up in society,
Prince Andrew liked meeting someone there
notof the conventional society stamp. Andsuch
was Natasha, with her surprise, her delight, her
shyness, and even her mistakes in speaking
French. With her he behaved with special care
and tenderness, sitting beside her and talking
of the simplest and most unimportant matters;
he admired her shy grace. In the middle of the
cotillion, having completed one of the figures,
Natdsha, still out of breath, was returning to
her seat when another dancer chose her. She
was tired and panting and evidently thought
of declining, but immediately put her hand
gaily on the man's shoulder, smiling at Prince
Andrew.

"I'd be glad to sit beside you and rest: I'm
tired; but you see how they keep asking me,
and I'm glad of it, I'm happy and I love every-
body, and you and I understand it all," and
much, much more was said in her smile. When
her partner left her Natasha ran across the
room to choose two ladies for the figure.

"If she goes to her cousin first and then to
another lady, she will be my wife," said Prince
Andrew to himself quite to his own surprise, as
he watched her. She did go first to her cousin.

"Whatrubbish sometimes enters one's head 1"
thought Prince Andrew, "but what is certain is
that that girl is so charming, so original, that
she won't be dancing here a month before she
will be married. . . . Such as she are rare here,"
he thought, as Natdsha, readjusting a rose that
was slipping on her bodice, settled herself be-
side him.

When the cotillion was over the old count in
his blue coat came up to the dancers. He invit-
ed Prince Andrew to come and see them, and
asked his daughter whether she was enjoying
herself. Natdsha did not answer at once but
only looked up with a smile that said reproach-
fully: "How can you ask such a question?"

"I have never enjoyed myself so much be-
forel" she said, and Prince Andrew noticed
how her thin arms rose quickly as if to embrace
her father and instantly dropped again. Nata-
sha was happier than she had ever been in her
life. She was at that height of bliss when one
becomes completely kind and good and does
not believe in the possibility of evil, unhappi-
ness, or sorrow.

At that ball Pierre for the first time felt
humiliated by the position his wife occupied
in court circles. He was gloomy and absent-



260



WAR AND PEACE



minded. A deep furrow ran across his fore-
head, and standing by a window he stared
over his spectacles seeing no one.

On her way to supper Natasha passed him.

Pierre's gloomy, unhappy look struck her.
She stopped in front of him. She wished to help
him, to bestow on him the superabundance of
her own happiness.

"How delightful it is, Count!"said she. "Isn't
it?"

Pierre smiled absent-mindedly, evidently not
grasping what she said.

"Yes, I am very glad," he said.

"How can people be dissatisfied with any-
thing?" thought Natdsha. "Especially such a
capital fellow as Bezukhov!" In Natasha's eyes
all the people at the ball alike were good, kind,
and splendid people, loving one another; none
of them capable of injuring another and so
they ought all to be happy.

CHAPTER XVIII

NEXT DAY Prince Andrew thought of the ball,
but his mind did not dwell on it long. "Yes, it
was a very brilliant ball," and then . . . "Yes,
that little Rost6va is very charming. There's
something fresh, original, un-Petersburg-like
about her that distinguishes her." That was all
he thought about yesterday's ball, and after his
morning tea he set to work.

But either from fatigue or want of sleep he
was ill-disposed for work and could get noth-
ing done. He kept criticizing his own work, as
he often did, and was glad when he heard some-
one coming.

The visitor was Bftski, who served on var-
ious committees, frequented all the societies in
Petersburg, and was a passionate devotee of the
new ideas and of Sperdnski, and a diligent Pe-
tersburg newsmonger one of those men who
choose their opinions like their clothes accord-
ing to the fashion, but who for that very reason
appear to be the wannest partisans. Hardly
had he got rid of his hat before he ran into
Prince Andrew's room with a preoccupied air
and at once began talking. He had just heard
particulars of that morning's sitting of the
Council of State opened by the Emperor, and
he spoke of it enthusiastically. The Emperor's
speech had been extraordinary. It had been a
speech such as only constitutional monarchs
deliver. "The Sovereign plainly said that the
Council and Senate are estates of the realm, he
said that the government must rest not on au-
thority but on secure bases. The Emperor said
that the fiscal system must be reorganized and



the accounts published," recounted Bitski, em-
phasizing certain words and opening his eyes
significantly.

"Ah, yesl Today's events mark an epoch, the
greatest epoch in our history," he concluded.

Prince Andrew listened to the account of
the opening of the Council of State, which he
had so impatiently awaited and to which he
had attached such importance, and was sur-
prised that this event, now that it had taken
place, did not affect him, and even seemed
quite insignificant. He listened with quiet
irony to Bitski's enthusiastic account of it. A
very simple thought occurred to him: "What
does it matter to me or to Bftski what the Em-
peror was pleased to say at the Council? Can
all that make me any happier or better?"

And this simple reflection suddenly destroyed
all the interest Prince Andrew had felt in the
impending reforms. He was going to dine that
evening at Sperdnski's, "with only a few
friends," as the host had said when inviting
him. The prospect of that dinner in the inti-
mate home circle of the man he so admired had
greatly interested Prince Andrew, especially as
he had not yet seen Sperdnski in his domestic
surroundings, but now he felt disinclined to go
to it.

At the appointed hour, however, he entered
the modest house Sperdnski owned in the Tau-
rida Gardens. In the parqueted dining room of
this small house, remarkable for its extreme
cleanliness (suggesting that of a monastery),
Prince Andrew, who was rather late, found
the friendly gathering of Sperdnski's intimate
acquaintances already assembled at five o'clock.
There were no ladies present except Sperdnski's
little daughter (long-faced like her father) and
her governess. The other guests were Gervais,
Magnftski, and Stoly'pin. While still in the an-
teroom Prince Andrew heard loud voices and
a ringing staccato laugh a laugh such as one
hears on the stage. Someone it sounded like
Sperdnski was distinctly ejaculating ha-ha-ha.
Prince Andrew had never before heard Sperdn-
ski's famous laugh, and this ringing, high-
pitched laughter from a statesman made a
strange impression on him.

He entered the din ing room. The whole com-
pany were standing between two windows at
a small table laid with hors-d'oeuvres. Speran-
ski, wearing a gray swallow-tail coat with a star
on the breast, and evidently still the same waist-
coat and high white stock he had worn at the
meeting of the Council of State, stood at the
table with a beaming countenance. His guests



BOOK SIX



261



surrounded him. Magnitski, addressing him-
self to Sperdnski, was relating an anecdote,
and Sperdnski was laughing in advance at what
Magnitski was going to say. When Prince An-
drew entered the room Magnitski's words were
again crowned by laughter. Stolypin gave a
deep bass guffaw as he munched a piece of bread
and cheese. Gervais laughed softly with a hiss-
ing chuckle, and Sperdnski in a high-pitched
staccato manner.

Still laughing, Sperdnski held out his soft
white hand to Prince Andrew.

"Very pleased to see you, Prince/' he said.
"Onemoment . . ." he wenton, turning to Mag-
nftski and interrupting his story. "We have
agreed that this is a dinner for recreation, with
not a word about business!" and turning again
to the narrator he began to laugh afresh.

Prince Andrew looked at the laughing Spe-
rdnski with astonishment, regret, and disillu-
sionment. It seemed to him that this was not
Sperdnski but someone else. Everything that
had formerly appeared mysterious and fascinat-
ing in Sperdnski suddenly became plain and
unattractive.

At dinner the conversation did not cease for
a moment and seemed to consist of the contents
of a book of funny anecdotes. Before Magnft-
ski had finished his story someone else was anx-
ious to relate something still funnier. Most of
the anecdotes, if not relating to the state serv-
ice, related to people in the service. It seemed
that in this company the insignificance of those
people was so definitely accepted that the only
possible attitude toward them was one of good-
humored ridicule. Sperdnski related how at the
Council that morning a deaf dignitary, when
asked his opinion, replied that he thought so
too. Gervais gave a long account of an official
revision, remarkable for the stupidity of every-
body concerned. Stolypin, stuttering, broke in-
to the conversation and began excitedly talk-
ing of the abuses that existed under the former
order of things threatening to give a serious
turn to the conversation. Magnitski starting
quizzing Stolypin about his vehemence. Ger-
vais intervened with a joke, and the talk revert-
ed to its former lively tone.

Evidently Sperdnski liked to rest after his
labors and find amusement in a circle of
friends, and his guests, understanding his wish,
tried to enliven him and amuse themselves. But
their gaiety seemed to Prince Andrew mirthless
and tiresome. Sperdn ski's high-pitched voice
struck him unpleasantly, and the incessant
laughter grated on him like a false note. Prince



Andrew didnot laugh and feared that hewould
be a damper on the spirits of the company, but
no one took any notice of his being out of har-
mony with the general mood. They all seemed
very gay.

He tried several times to join in the conver-
sation, but his remarks were tossed aside each
time like a cork thrown out of the water, and
he could not jest with them.

There was nothing wrong or unseemly in
what they said, it was witty and might have
been funny, but it lacked just that something
which is the salt of mirth, and they were not
even aware that such a thing existed.

After dinner Sperdnski's daughter and her
governess rose. He patted the little girl with
his white hand and kissed her. And that ges-
ture, too, seemed unnatural to Prince Andrew.

The men remained at table over their port-
English fashion. In the midst of a conversation
that was started about Napoleon's Spanish af-
fairs, which they all agreed in approving,
Prince Andrew began to express a contrary
opinion. Sperdnski smiled and, with an evi-
dent wish to prevent the conversation from
taking an unpleasant course, told a story that
had no connection with the previous conver-
sation. For a few moments all were silent.

Having sat some time at table, Sperdnski
corked a bottle of wine and, remarking, "Now-
adays good wine rides in a carriage and pair,"
passed it to the servant and got up. All rose and
continuing to talk loudly went into the drawing
room. Two letters brought by a courier were
handed to Sperdnski and he took them to his
study. As soon as he had left the room the gen-
eral merriment stopped and the guests began
to converse sensibly and quietly with one an-
other.

"Now for the recitation!" said Sperdnski on
return ing from his study. "A wonderful talent!"
he said to Prince Andrew, and Magnftski im-
mediately assumed a pose and began reciting
some humorous verses in French which he had
composed about various well-known Peters-
burg people. He was interrupted several times
by applause. When the verses were finished
Prince Andrew went up to Sperdnski and took
his leave.

"Where are you off to so early?" asked Spe-
rdnski.

"I promised to go to a reception."

They said no more. Prince Andrew looked
closely into those mirrorlike, impenetrable
eyes, and felt that it had been ridiculous of him
to have expected anything from Sperdnski and



26*



WAR AND PEACE



from any of his own activities connected with
him, or ever to have attributed importance to
what Sperdnski was doing. That precise, mirth-
less laughter rang in Prince Andrew's ears long
after he had left the house.

When he reached home Prince Andrew be-
gan thinking of his life in Petersburg during
those last four months as if it were something
new. He recalled his exertions and solicitations,
and the history of his project of army reform,
which had been accepted for consideration and
which they were trying to pass over in silence
simply because another, a very poor one, had
already been prepared and submitted to the
Emperor. He thought of the meetings of a com-
mittee of which Berg was a member. He remem-
bered how carefully and at what length every-
thing relating to form and procedure was dis-
cussed at those meetings, and how sedulously
and promptly all that related to the gist of the
business was evaded. He recalled his labors on
the Legal Code, and how painstakingly he had
translated the articles of the Roman and French
codes into Russian, and he felt ashamed of him-
self. Then he vividly pictured to himself Bo-
guchdrovo, his occupations in the country, his
journey to Ryazan; he remembered the peas-
ants and Dron the village elder, and mentally
applying to them the Personal Rights he had
divided into paragraphs, he felt astonished that
he could have spent so much time on such use-
less work.

CHAPTER XIX

NEXT DAY Prince Andrew called at a few houses
he had not visited before, and among them at
the Rost6vs' with whom he had renewed ac-
quaintance at the ball. Apart from considera-
tions of politeness which demanded the call, he
wanted to see that original, eager girl who had
left such a pleasant impression on his mind, in
her own home.

Natdsha was one of the first to meet him. She
was wearing a dark-blue house dress in which
Prince Andrew thought her even prettier than
in her ball dress. She and all the Rost6v family
welcomed him as an old friend, simply and cor-
dially. The whole family, whom he had former-
ly judged severely, now seemed to him to con-
sist of excellent, simple, and kindly people. The
old count's hospitality and good nature, which
struck one especially in Petersburg as a pleas-
ant surprise, were such that Prince Andrew
could not refuse to stay to dinner. "Yes," he
thought, "they are capital people, whoof course
have not the slightest idea what a treasure they



possess in Natdsha; but they are kindly folk and
form the best possible setting for this striking-
ly poetic, charming girl, overflowing with life!"

In Natdsha Prince Andrew was conscious of
a strange world completely alien to him and
brimful of joys unknown to him, a different
world, that in the Otrddnoe avenue and at the
window that moonlight night had already be-
gun to disconcert him. Now this world discon-
certed him no longer and was no longer alien
to him, but he himself having entered it found
in it a new enjoyment.

After dinner Natdsha, at Prince Andrew's re-
quest, went to the clavichord and began sing-
ing. Prince Andrew stood by a window talking
to the ladies and listened to her. In the midst
of a phrase he ceased speaking and suddenly
felt tears choking him, a thing he had thought
impossible for him. He looked at Natdsha as
she sang, and something new and joyful stirred
in his soul. He felt happy and at the same time
sad. He had absolutely nothing to weep about
yet he was ready to weep. What about? His
former love? The little princess? His disillu-
sionments? . . . His hopes for the future? . . .
Yes and no. The chief reason was a sudden, viv-
id sense of the terrible contrast between some-
thing infinitely great and illimitable within
him and that limited and material something
that he, and even she, was. This contrast
weighed on and yet cheered himwhileshesang.

As soon as Natdsha had finished she went up
to him and asked how he liked her voice. She
asked this and then became confused, feeling
that she ought not to have asked it. He smiled,
looking at her, and said he liked her singing as
he liked everything she did.

Prince Andrew left the Rost6vs' late in the
evening. He went to bed from habit, but soon
realized that he could not sleep. Having lit his
candle he sat up in bed, then got up, then lay
down again not at all troubled by his sleepless-
ness: his soul was as fresh and joyful as if he
had stepped out of a stuffy room into God's
own fresh air. It did not enter his head that he
was in love with Natdsha; he was not thinking
about her, but only picturing her to himself,
and in consequence all life appeared in a new
light. "Why do I strive, why do I toil in this
narrow, confined frame, when life, all life with
all its joys, is open to me?" said he to himself.
And for the first time for a very long while he
began making happy plans for the future. He
decided that he must attend to his son's educa-
tion by finding a tutor and putting the boy in
his charge, then he ought to retire from theserv-



BOOK SIX



263



ice and go abroad, and see England, Switzer-
land, and Italy. "I must use my freedom while
I feel so much strength and youth in me," he
said to himself. "Pierre was right when he said
one must believe in the possibility of happiness
in order to be happy, and now I do believe in
it. Let the dead bury their dead, but while one
has life one must live and be happy!" thought
he.

CHAPTER XX

ONE MORNING Colonel Berg, whom Pierre knew
as he knew everybody in Moscow and Peters-
burg, came to see him. Berg arrived in an im-
maculate brand-new uniform, with his hair po-
maded and brushed forward over his temples
as the Emperor Alexander wore his hair.

"I have just been to see the countess, your
wife. Unfortunately she could not grant my re-
quest, but I hope, Count, I shall be more for-
tunate with you," he said with a smile.

"What is it you wish, Colonel? I am at your
service."

"I have now quite settled in my new rooms,
Count" (Berg said this with perfect conviction
that this information could not but be agree-
able), "and so I wish to arrange just a small par-
ty formy own and my wife's friends." (Hesmiled
still more pleasantly.) "I wished to ask the
countess and you to do me the honor of coming
to tea and to supper."

Only Countess Hlne, considering the soci-
ety of such people as the Bergs beneath her,
could be cruel enough to refuse such an invita-
tion. Berg explained so clearly why he wanted
to collect at his house a small but select com-
pany, and why this would give him pleasure,
and why though he grudged spending money
,on cards or anything harmful, he was prepared
to run into some expense for the sake of good
societythat Pierre could not refuse, and
promised to come.

"But don't be late, Count, if I may venture
to ask; about ten minutes to eight, please. We
shall make up a rubber. Our general is coming.
He is very good to me. We shall have supper,
Count. So you will do me the favor."

Contrary to his habit of being late, Pierre
on that day arrived at the Bergs' house, not at
ten but at fifteen minutes to eight.

Having prepared everything necessary for
the party, the Bergs were ready for their guests'
arrival.

In their new, clean, and light study with its
small busts and pictures and new furniture sat
Berg and his wife. Berg, closely buttoned up



in his new uniform, sat beside his wife explain-
ing to her that one always could and should be
acquainted with people above one, because on-
ly then does one get satisfaction from acquaint-
ances.

"You can get to know something, you can
ask for something. See how I managed from
my first promotion." (Berg measured his life
not by years but by promotions.) "My comrades
are still nobodies, while I am only waiting for
a vacancy to command a regiment, and have
the happiness to be your husband." (He rose
and kissed Vcra's hand, and on the way to her
straightened out a turned-up corner of the car-
pet.) "And how have I obtained all this? Chief-
ly by knowing how to choose my acquaintances.
It goes without saying that one must be consci-
entious and methodical."

Berg smiled with a sense of his superiority
over a weak woman, and paused, reflecting that
this dear wife of his was after all but a weak
woman who could not understand all that con-
stitutes a man's dignity, what it was ein Mann
zu sein.* Wra at the same time was smiling with
a sense of superiority over her good, conscien-
tious husband, who all the same understood
life wrongly, as according to Ve*ra all men did.
Berg, judging by his wife, thought all women
weak and foolish. Vera, judging only by her
husband and generalizing from that observa-
tion, supposed that all men, though they un-
derstand nothing and are conceited and sel-
fish, ascribe common sense to themselves alone.

Berg rose and embraced his wife carefully,
so as not to crush her lace fichu for which he
had paid a good price, kissing her straight on
the lips.

"The only thing is, we mustn't have chil-
dren too soon," he continued, following an un-
conscious sequence of ideas.

"Yes," answered Ve*ra, "I don't at all want
that. We must live for society."

"Princess Yusiipova wore one exactly like
this," said Berg, pointing to the fichu with a
happy and kindly smile.

Just then Count Beziikhov was announced.
Husband and wife glanced at one another,
both smiling with self-satisfaction, and each
mentally claiming the honor of this visit.

"This is what comes of knowing how to make
acquaintances," thought Berg. "This is what
comes of knowing how to conduct oneself."

"But please don't interrupt me when I am
entertaining the guests," said Vera, "because I
know what interests each of them and what to

1 To be a man.



264

say to different people."

Berg smiled again.

"It can't be helped: men must sometimes
have masculine con versa tion," said he.

They received Pierre in their small, new
drawing-room, where it was impossible to sit
down anywhere without disturbing its sym-
metry, neatness, and order; so it was quite
comprehensible and not strange that Berg, hav-
ing generously offered to disturb the symmetry
of an armchair or of the sofa for his dear guest,
but being apparently painfully undecided on
the matter himself, eventually left the visitor
to settle the question of selection. Pierre dis-
turbed the symmetry by moving a chair for him-
self, and Berg and V^ra immediately began their
evening party, interrupting each other in their
efforts to entertain their guest.

Ve*ra, having decided in her own mind that
Pierre ought to be entertained with conversa-
tion about the French embassy, at once began
accordingly. Berg, having decided that mascu-
line conversation was required, interrupted his
wife's remarks and touched on the question of
the war with Austria, and unconsciously
jumped from the general subject to personal
considerations as to the proposals made him to
take part in the Austrian campaign and the
reasons why he had declined them. Though
the conversation was very incoherent and Ve*ra
was angry at the intrusion of the masculine el-
ement, both husband and wife felt with satis-
faction that, even if only one guest was pres-
ent, their evening had begun very well and was
as like as two peas to every other evening party
with its talk, tea, and lighted candles.

Before long Boris, Berg's old comrade, ar-
rived. There was a shade of condescension and
patronage in his treatment of Berg and Ve*ra.
After Boris came a lady with the colonel, then
the general himself, then the Rost6vs, and the
party became unquestionably exactly like all
other evening parties. Berg and Ve*ra could not
repress their smiles of satisfaction at the sight
of all this movement in their drawing room, at
the sound of the disconnected talk, the rustling
of dresses, and the bowing and scraping. Every-
thing was just as everybody always has it, es-
pecially so the general, who admired the apart-
ment, patted Berg on the shoulder, and with
parental authority superintended the setting
out of the table for boston. The general sat
down by Count Ilya Rost6v, who was next to
himself the most important guest. The old peo-
ple sat with the old, the young with the young,
and the hostess at the tea table, on which stood



WAR AND PEACE

exactly the same kind of cakes in a silver cake



basket as the Panins had at their party. Every-
thing was just as it was everywhere else.

CHAPTER XXI

PIERRE, as one of the principal guests, had to
sit down to boston with Count Rost6v, the
general, and the colonel. At the card table he
happened to be directly facing Natdsha, and
was struck by a curious change that had come
over her since the ball. She was silent, and not
only less pretty than at the ball, but only re-
deemed from plainness by her look of gentle
indifference to everything around.

"What's the matter with her?" thought
Pierre, glancing at her. She was sitting by her
sister at the tea table, and reluctantly, without
looking at him, made some reply to Boris who
sat down beside her. After playing out a
whole suit and to his partner's delight taking
five tricks, Pierre, hearing greetings and the
steps of someone who had entered the room
while he was picking up his tricks, glanced
again at Natasha.

"What has happened to her?" he asked him-
self with still greater surprise.

Prince Andrew was standing before her,
saying something to her with a look of tender
solicitude. She, having raised her head, w-is
looking up at him, flushed and evidently try-
ing to master her rapid breathing. And the
bright glow of some inner fire that had been
suppressed was again alight in her. She was
completely transformed and from a plain girl
had again become what she had been at the
ball.

Prince Andrew went up to Pierre, and the
latter noticed a new and youthful expression
in his friend's face.

Pierre changed places several times during
the game, sitting now with his back to Natdsha
and now facing her, but during the whole of
the six rubbers he watched her and his friend.

"Something very important is happening be-
tween them," thought Pierre, and a feeling that
was both joyful and painful agitated him and
made him neglect the game.

After six rubbers the general got up, saying
that it was no use playing like that, and Pierre
was released. Natdsha on one side was talking
with S6nya and Boris, and Ve*ra with a subtle
smile was saying something to Prince Andrew.
Pierre went up to his friend and, asking wheth-
er they were talking secrets, sat down beside
them. Vra, having noticed Prince Andrew's
attentions to Natdsha, decided that at a party,



BOOK SIX



265



a real evening party, subtle allusions to the
tender passion were absolutely necessary and,
seizing a moment when Prince Andrew was
alone, began a conversation with him about
feelings in general and about her sister. With
so intellectual a guest as she considered Prince
Andrew to be, she felt that she had to employ
her diplomatic tact.

When Pierre went up to them he noticed
that Vera was being carried away by her self-
satisfied talk, but that Prince Andrew seemed
embarrassed, a thing that rarely happened with
him.

"What do you think?" Wra was saying with
an arch smile. "You are so discerning, Prince,
and understand people's characters so well at
a glance. What do you think of Natalie? Could
she be constant in her attachments? Could she,
like other women" (Vra meant herself), "love
a man once for all and remain true to him for-
ever? That is what I consider true love. What
do you think, Prince?"

"I know your sister too little," replied Prince
Andrew, with a sarcastic smile under which he
wished to hide his embarrassment, "to be able
to solve so delicate a question, and then I have
noticed that the less attractive a woman is the
more constant she is likely to be," he added,
and looked up at Pierre who was just approach-
ing them.

"Yes, that is true, Prince. In our days," con-
tinued Wra mentioning "our days" as peo-
ple of limited intelligence are fond of doing,
imagining that they have discovered and ap-
praised the peculiar! ties of "our days" and that
human characteristics change with the times
"in our days a girl has so much freedom that
the pleasure of being courted often stifles real
feeling in her. And it must be confessed that
Natalie is very susceptible." This return to the
subject of Natalie caused Prince Andrew to
knit his brows with discomfort: he was about
to rise, but Wra continued with a still more
subtle smile:

"I think no one has been more courted than
she," she went on, "but till quite lately she nev-
er cared seriously for anyone. Now you know,
Count," she said to Pierre, "even our dear cous-
in Boris, who, between ourselves, was very far
gone in the land of tenderness . . ." (alluding
to a map of love much in vogue at that time).

Prince Andrew frowned and remained si-
lent.

"You are friendly with Bods, aren't you?"
asked V6ra.

"Yes, I know him. ..."



"I expect he has told you of his childish love
for Natasha?"

"Oh, there was childish love?" suddenly asked
Prince Andrew, blushing unexpectedly.

"Yes, you know between cousins intimacy
often leads to love. Le cousinage est un dan-
gereux voisinage* Don't you think so?"

"Oh , undoubtedly I " said Prince Andrew, and
with sudden and unnatural liveliness he began
chaffing Pierre about the need to be very care-
ful with his fifty-year-old Moscow cousins, and
in the midst of these jesting remarks he rose,
taking Pierre by the arm, and drew him aside.

"Well?" asked Pierre, seeing his friend's
strange animation with surprise, and noticing
the glance he turned on Natisha as he rose.

"I must ... I must have a talk with you,"
said Prince Andrew. "You know that pair of
women's gloves?" (He referred to the ftf asonic
gloves given to a newly initiated Brother to
present to the woman he loved.) "I ... but no,
I will talk to you later on," and with a strange
light in his eyes and restlessness in his move-
ments, Prince Andrew approached Natdsha
and sat down beside her. Pierre saw how Prince
Andrew asked her something and how she
flushed as she replied.

But at that moment Berg came to Pierre and
began insisting that he should take part in an
argument between the general and the colonel
on the affairs in Spain.

Berg was satisfied and happy. The smile of
pleasure never left his face. The party was very
successful and quite like other parties he had
seen. Everything was similar: the ladies' subtle
talk, the cards, the general raising his voice at
the card table, and the samovar arid the tea
cakes; only one thing was lacking that he had al-
ways seen at the evening parties he wished to
imitate. They had not yet had a loud conversa-
tion among the men and a dispute about some-
thing important and clever. Now the general
had begun such a discussion and so Berg drew
Pierre to it.

CHAPTER XXII

NEXT DAY, having been invited by the count,
Prince Andrew dined with the Rost6vs and
spent the rest of the day there.

Everyone in the house realized for whose
sake Prince Andrew came, and without con-
cealing it he tried to be with Natdsha all day.
Not only in the soul of the frightened yet hap-
py and enraptured Natisha, but in the whole
house, there was a feeling of awe at something

1 "Cousinhood is a dangerous neighbor hood."



266



WAR AND PEACE



important that was bound to happen. The
countess looked with sad and sternly serious
eyes at Prince Andrew when he talked to Na-
tdsha and timidly started some artificial con-
versation about trifles as soon as he looked her
way. S6nya was afraid to leave NatAsha and
afraid of being in the way when she was with
them, Natasha grew pale, in a panic of expec-
tation, when she remained alone with him for
a moment. Prince Andrew surprised her by his
timidity. She felt that he wanted to say some-
thing to her but could not bring himself to do
so.

In the evening, when Prince Andrew had
left, the countess went up to Natdsha and
whispered: "Well, what?"

"Mamma! For heaven's sake don't ask me
anything now! One can't talk about that," said
Natdsha.

But all the same that night Natdsha, now
agitated and now frightened, lay a long time in
her mother's bed gazing straight before her.
She told her how he had complimented her,
how he told her he was going abroad, asked her
where they were going to spend the summer,
and then how he had asked her about Boris.

"But such a ... such a ... never happened
to me before!" she said. "Only I feel afraid in
his presence. I am always afraid when I'm with
him. What does that mean? Does it mean that
it's the real thing? Yes? Mamma, are you
asleep?"

"No, my love; I am frightened myself," an-
swered her mother. "Now go!"

"All the same I shan't sleep. What silliness,
to sleep! Mummy! Mummy! such a thing never
happened to me before," she said, surprised
and alarmed at the feeling she was aware of in
herself. "And could we ever have thought! . . ."

It seemed to Natdsha that even at the time
she first saw Prince Andrew at Otradnoe she
had fallen in love with him. It was as if she
feared this strange, unexpected happiness of
meeting again the very man she had then cho-
sen (she was firmly convinced she had done so)
and of finding him, as it seemed, not indiffer-
ent to her.

"And it had to happen that he should come
specially to Petersburg while we are here. And
it had to happen that we should meet at that
ball. It is fate. Clearly it is fate that everything
led up to this! Already then, directly I saw him
I felt something peculiar."

"What else did he say to you? What are those
verses? Read them . . ." said her mother,
thoughtfully, referring to some verses Prince



Andrew had written in Natdsha's album.

"Mamma, one need not be ashamed of his
being a widower?"

"Don't, Natdshal Pray to God. 'Marriages
are made in heaven,' " said her mother.

"Darling Mummy, how I love you! How hap-
py I am!" cried Natdsha, shedding tears of joy
and excitement and embracing her mother.

At that very time Prince Andrew was sitting
with Pierre and telling him of his love for Na-
tdsha and his firm resolve to make her his wife.

That day Countess Hlene had a reception
at her house. The French ambassador was there,
and a foreign prince of the blood who had of
late become a frequent visitor of hers, and
many brilliant ladies and gentlemen. Pierre,
who had come downstairs, walked through the
rooms and struck everyone by his preoccupied,
absent-minded, and morose air.

Since the ball he had felt the approach of a
fit of nervous depression and had made desper-
ate efforts to combat it. Since the intimacy of
his wife with the royal prince, Pierre had un-
expectedly been made a gentleman of the bed-
chamber, and from that time he had begun to
feel oppressed and ashamed in court society,
and dark thoughts of the vanity of all things
human came to him oftener than before. At
the same time the feeling he had noticed be-
tween his protge*e Natasha and Prince An-
drew accentuated his gloom by the contrast be-
tween his own position and his friend's. He
tried equally to avoid thinking about his wife,
and about Natasha and Prince Andrew; and
again everything seemed to him insignificant
in comparison with eternity; again the ques-
tion: for what? presented itself; and he forced
himself to work day and night at Masonic la-
bors, hoping to drive away the evil spirit that
threatened him. Toward midnight, after he
had left the countess' apartments, he was sit-
ting upstairs in a shabby dressing gown, copy-
ing out the original transactions of the Scottish
lodge of Freemasons at a table in his low room
cloudy with tobacco smoke, when someone
came in. It was Prince Andrew.

"Ah, it's you!" said Pierre with a preoccu-
pied, dissatisfied air. "And I, you see, am hard
at it." He pointed to his manuscript book with
that air of escaping from the ills of life with
which unhappy people look at their work.

Prince Andrew, with a beaming, ecstatic ex-
pression of renewed life on his face, paused in
front of Pierre and, not noticing his sad look,
smiled at him with the egotism of joy.

"Well, dear heart," said he, "I wanted to tell



BOOK

you about it yesterday and I have come to do
so today. I never experienced anything like it
before. I am in love, my friend!"

Suddenly Pierre heaved a deep sigh and
dumped his heavy person down on the sofa be-
side Prince Andrew.

"With Natdsha Rost6va, yes?" said he.

"Yes, yes! Who else should it be? I should
never have believed it, but the feel ing is strong-
er than I. Yesterday I tormented myself and
suffered, but I would not exchange even that
torment for anything in the world, I have not
lived till now. At last I live, but I can't live
without her! But can she love me? ... I am too
old for her. . . . Why don't you speak?"

"I? I? What did I tell you?" said Pierre sud-
denly, rising and beginning to pace up and
down the room. "I always thought it. ... That
girl is such a treasure . . . she is a rare girl. . . .
My dear friend, I entreat you, don't philoso-
phize, don't doubt, marry, marry, marry. . . .
And I am sure there will not be a happier man
than you."

"But what of her?"

"She loves you."

"Don't talk rubbish . . ." said Prince An-
drew, smiling and looking into Pierre's eyes.

"She does, I know," Pierre cried fiercely.

"But do listen," returned Prince Andrew,
holding him by the arm. "Do you know the
condition I am in? I must talk about it to some-
one."

"Well, go on, go on. I am very glad," said
Pierre, and his face really changed, his brow be-
came smooth, and he listened gladly to Prince
Andrew. Prince Andrew seemed, and really was,
quite a different, quite a new man. Where was
his spleen, his contempt for life, his disillusion-
ment? Pierre was the only person to whom he
made up his mind to speak openly; and to him
he told all that was in his soul. Now he boldly
and lightly made plans for an extended future,
said he could not sacrifice his own happiness to
his father's caprice, and spoke of how he would
either make his father consent to this marriage
and love her, or would do without his consent;
then he marveled at the feeling that had mas-
tered him as at something strange, apart from
and independent of himself.

"1 should not have believed anyone who
told me that I was capable of such love," said
Prince Andrew. "It is not at all the same feel-
ing that I knew in the past. The whole world is
now for me divided into two halves: one half
is she, and there all is joy, hope, light: the oth-
er half is everything where she is not, and there



SIX 267

all is gloom and darkness. . . ."

"Darkness and gloom," reiterated Pierre:
"yes, yes, I understand that."

"I cannot help loving the light, it is not my
fault. And I am very happy! You understand
me? I know you are glad for my sake."

"Yes, yes," Pierre assented, looking at his
friend with a touched and sad expression in
his eyes. The brighter Prince Andrew's lot ap-
peared to him, the gloomier seemed his own.

CHAPTER XXIII

PRINCE ANDREW needed his father's consent to
his marriage, and to obtain this he started for
the country next day.

His father received his son's communication
with external composure, but inward wrath.
He could not comprehend how anyone could
wish to alter his life or introduce anythingnew
into it, when his own life was already ending.
"If only they would let me end my days as I
want to," thought the old man, "then they
might do as they please." With his son, how-
ever, he employed the diplomacy he reserved
for important occasions and, adopting a quiet
tone, discussed the whole matter.

In the first place the marriage was not a bril-
liant one as regards birth, wealth, or rank.
Secondly, Prince Andrew was no longer as
young as he had been and his health was poor
(the old man laid special stress on this), while
she was very young. Thirdly, he had a son
whom it would be a pity to entrust to a chit of
a girl. "Fourthly and finally," the father said,
looking ironically at his son, "I beg you to put
it off for a year: go abroad, take a cure, look
out as you wanted to for a German tutor for
Prince Nicholas. Then if your love or passion
or obstinacy as you please is still as great,
marry! And that's my last word on it. Mind,
the last! . . ." concluded the prince, in a tone
which showed that nothing would make him
alter his decision.

Prince Andrew saw clearly that the old man
hoped that his feelings, or his fianceVs, would
not stand a year's test, or that he (the old prince
himself) would die before then, and he de-
cided to conform to his father's wishto pro-
pose, and postpone the wedding for a year.

Three weeks after the last evening he had
spent with the Rost6vs, Prince Andrew re-
turned to Petersburg.

Next day after her talk with her mother Na-
tdsha expected Bolk6nski all day, but he did
not come. On the second and third day it was



268



WAR AND PEACE



the same. Pierre did not come either and Na-
tdsha, not knowing that Prince Andrew had
gone to see his father, could not explain his ab-
sence to herself.

Three weeks passed in this way. Natdsha
had no desire to go out any where and wandered
from room to room like a shadow, idle and list-
less; she wept secretly at night and did not go
to her mother in the evenings. She blushed
continually and was irritable. It seemed to her
that everybody knew about her disappoint-
ment and was laughing at her and pitying her.
Strong as was her inward grief, this wound to
her vanity intensified her misery.

Once she came to her mother, tried to say
something, and suddenly began to cry. Her
tears were those of an offended child who does
not know why it is being punished.

The countess began to soothe Natdsha, who
after first listening to her mother's words, sud-
denly interrupted her:

"Leave off, Mamma! I don't think, and don't
want to think about ill He just came and then
left off, left off. ..."

Her voice trembled, and she again nearly
cried, but recovered and went on quietly:

"And I don't at all want to get married. And
I am afraid of him; I have now become quite
calm, quite calm."

The day after this conversation Natdsha put
on the old dress which she knew had the pecul-
iar property of conducing to cheerfulness in
the mornings, and that day she returned to the
old way of life which she had abandoned since
the ball. Having finished her morning tea she
went to the ballroom, which she particularly
liked for its loud resonance, and began singing
her solfeggio. When she had finished her first
exercise she stood still in the middle of the
room and sang a musical phrase that particu-
larly pleased her. She listened joyfully (as
though she had not expected it) to the charm
of the notes reverberating, filling the whole
empty ballroom, and slowly dying away; and
all at once she felt cheerful. "What's the good
of making so much of it? Things are nice as it
is," she said to herself, and she began walking
up and down the room, not stepping simply
on the resounding parquet but treading with
each step from the heel to the toe (she had on
a new and favorite pair of shoes) and listening
to the regular tap of the heel and creak of the
toe as gladly as she had to the sounds of her
own voice. Passing a mirror she glanced into
it. "There, that's mel" the expression of her
face seemed to say as she caught sight of her-



self. "Well, and very nice too! I need nobody."

A footman wanted to come in to clear away
something in the room but she would not let
him, and having closed the door behind him
continued her walk. That morning she had re-
turned to her favorite moodlove of, and de-
light in, herself. "How charming that Natdsha
isl" she said again, speaking as some third, col-
lective, male person. "Pretty, a good voice,
young, and in nobody's way if only they leave
her in peace." But however much they left her
in peace she could not now be at peace, and im-
mediately felt this.

In the hall the porch door opened, and some-
one asked, "At home?" and then footsteps were
heard. Natdsha was looking at the mirror, but
did not see herself. She listened to the sounds
in the hall. When she saw herself, her face was
pale. It was he. She knew this for certain,
though she hardly heard his voice through the
closed doors.

Pale and agitated, Natasha ran into the draw-
ing room.

"Mamma! Bolk6nski has come!" she said.
"Mamma, it is awful, it is unbearable! I don't
want ... to be tormented! What am I to
do? . . ."

Before the countess could answer, Prince
Andrew entered the room with an agitated and
serious face. As soon as he saw Natdsha his face
brightened. He kissed the countess' hand and
Natasha's, and sat down beside the sofa.

"It is long since we had the pleasure . . ." be-
gan the countess, but Prince Andrew inter-
rupted her by answering her intended ques-
tion, obviously in haste to say what he had to.

"I have not been to see you all this time be-
cause I have been at my father's. I had to talk
over a very important matter with him. I only
got back last night," he said glancing at Na-
tdsha; "I want to have a talk with you, Count-
ess," he added after a moment's pause.

The countess lowered her eyes, sighing
deeply.

"I am at your disposal," she murmured.

Natdsha knew that she ought to go away,
but was unable to do so: something gripped
her throat, and regardlessof manners she stared
straight at Prince Andrew with wide-open eyes.

"At once? This instant! . . . No, it can't be!"
she thought.

Again he glanced at her, and that glance con-
vinced her that she was not mistaken. Yes, at
once, that very instant, her fate would be de-
cided.

"Go, Natasha! I will call you," said the



BOOK SIX



269



countess in a whisper.

Natasha glanced with frightened imploring
eyes at Prince Andrew and at her mother and
went out.

"I have come, Countess, to ask for your
daughter's hand," said Prince Andrew.

The countess* face flushed hotly, but she
said nothing.

"Your offer . . ." she began at last sedately.
He remained silent, looking into her eyes.
"Your offer . . ." (she grew confused) "is agree-
able to us, and ... I accept your offer. I am
glad. And my husband ... I hope . . . but it will
depend on her. . . ."

"I will speak to her when I have your con-
sent Do you give it to me?" said Prince An-
drew.

"Yes," replied the countess. She held out her
hand to him, and with a mixed feeling of es-
trangement and tenderness pressed her lips to
his forehead as he stooped to kiss her hand.
She wished to love him as a son, but felt that to
her he was a stranger and a terrifying man. "I
am sure my husband will consent," said the
countess, "but your father . . ."

"My father, to whom I have told my plans,
has made it an express condition of his consent
that the wedding is not to take place for a year.
And I wished to tell you of that," said Prince
Andrew.

"It is true that Natasha is still young, but
so long as that? . . ."

"It is unavoidable," said Prince Andrew with
a sigh.

"I will send her to you," said the countess,
and left the room.

"Lord have mercy upon usl" she repeated
while seeking her daughter.

S6nya said that Natasha was in her bedroom.
Natasha was sitting on the bed, pale and dry-
eyed, and was gazing at the icons and whisper-
ing something as she rapidly crossed herself.
Seeing her mother she jumped up and flew to
her.

"Well, Mamma? . . . Well? . . ."

"Go, go to him. He is asking for your hand,"
said the countess, coldly it seemed to Natasha.
"Go . . . go," said the mother, sadly and re-
proachfully, with a deep sigh, as her daughter
ran away.

Natasha never remembered how she entered
the drawing room. When she came in and saw
him she paused. "Is it possible that this stranger
has now become everything to me?" she asked
herself, and immediately answered," Yes, every-
thingl He alone is now dearer to me than every-



thing in the world." Prince Andrew came up
to her with downcast eyes.

"I have loved you from the very first mo-
ment I saw you. May I hope?"

He looked at her and was struck by the seri-
ous impassioned expression of her face. Her
face said: "Why ask? Why doubt what you can-
not but know? Why speak, when words cannot
express what one feels?"

She drew near to him and stopped. He took
her hand and kissed it.

"Do you love me?"

"Yes, yes!" Natasha murmured as if in vexa-
tion. Then she sighed loudly and, catching her
breath more and more quickly, began to sob.

"What is it? What's the matter?"

"Oh, I am so happy!" she replied, smiled
through her tears, bent over closer to him,
paused for an instant as if asking herself wheth-
er she might, and then kissed him.

Prince Andrew held her hands, looked into
her eyes, and did not find in his heart his former
love for her. Something in him had suddenly
changed; there was no longer the former poetic
and mystic charm of desire, but there was pity
for her feminine and childish weakness, fear
at her devotion and trustfulness, and an op-
pressive yet joyful sense of the duty that now
bound him to her forever. The present feeling,
though not so bright and poetic as the former,
was stronger and more serious.

"Did your mother tell you that it cannot be
for a year?" asked Prince Andrew, still looking
into her eyes.

"Is it possible that I the 'chit of a girl,' as
everybody called me," thought Natdsha "is it
possible that I am now to be the wife and the
equal of this strange, dear, clever man whom
even my father looks up to? Can it be true?
Can it be true that there can be no more play-
ing with life, that now I am grown up, that on
me now lies a responsibility for my every word
and deed? Yes, but what did he ask me?"

"No," she replied, but she had not under-
stood his question.

"Forgive mel" he said. "But you areso young,
and I have already been through so much in
life. I am afraid for you, you do not yet know
yourself."

Natasha listened wtih concentrated atten-
tion, trying but failing to take in the meaning
of his words.

"Hard as this year which delays my happi-
ness will be," continued Prince Andrew, "it
will give you time to be sure of yourself. I ask
you to make me happy in a year, but you are



270



WAR AND PEACE



free: our engagement shall remain a secret,
and should you find that you do not love me,
or should you come to love ..." said Prince
Andrew with an unnatural smile.

"Why do you say that?" Natdsha interrupted
him. "You know that from the very day you
first came to Otrddnoe I have loved you," she
cried, quite convinced that she spoke the truth.

"In a year you will learn to know your-
self. . . ."

"A whole year!" Natasha repeated suddenly,
only now realizing that the marriage was to be
postponed for a year. "But why a year? Why a
year? . . ."

Prince Andrew began to explain to her the
reasons for this delay. Natasha did not hear
him.

"And can't it be helped?" she asked. Prince
Andrew did not reply, but his face expressed
the impossibility of altering that decision.

"It's awful! Oh, it's awful! awful!" Natdsha
suddenly cried, and again burst into sobs. "I
shall die, waiting a year: it's impossible, it's aw-
ful!" She looked into her lover's face and saw
in it a look of commiseration and perplexity.

"No, no! I'll do anything!" she said, sudden-
ly checking her tears. "I am so happy."

The father and mother came into the room
and gave the betrothed couple their blessing.

From that day Prince Andrew began to fre-
quent the Rost6vs' as Natdsha's affianced lover.

CHAPTER XXIV

No BETROTHAL CEREMONY took place and Na-
tdsha's engagement to Bolk6nski was not an-
nounced; Prince Andrew insisted on that. He
said that as he was responsible for the delay he
ought to bear the whole burden of it; that he
had given his word and bound himself forever,
but that he did not wish to bind Natdsha and
gave her perfect freedom. If after six months
she felt that she did not love him she would
have full right to reject him. Naturally neither
Natasha nor her parents wished to hear of this,
but Prince Andrew was firm. He came every
day to the Rost6vs', but did not behave to Na-
tdsha as an affianced lover: he did not use the
familiar thou, but said you to her, and kissed
only her hand. After their engagement, quite
different, intimate, and natural relations sprang
up between them. It was as if they had not
known each other till now. Both liked to re-
call how they had regarded each other when
as yet they were nothing to one another; they
felt themselves now quite different beings:
then they were artificial, now natural and sin-



cere. At first the family felt some constraint in
intercourse with Prince Andrew; he seemed a
man from another world, and for a long time
Natdsha trained the family to get used to him,
proudly assuring them all that he only ap-
peared to be different, but was really just like
all of them, and that she was not afraid of him
and no one else ought to be. After a few days
they grew accustomed to him, and without re-
straint in his presence pursued their usual way
of life, in which he took his part. He could talk
about rural economy with the count, fashions
with the countess and Natdsha, and about al-
bums and fancywork with S6nya. Sometimes
the household both among themselves and in
his presence expressed their wonder at how it
had all happened, and at the evident omens
there had been of it: Prince Andrew's coming
to Otrddnoe and their coming to Petersburg,
and the likeness between Natdsha and Prince
Andrew which her nurse had noticed on his
first visit, and Andrew's encounter with Nich-
olas in 1805, and many other incidents beto-
kening that it had to be.

In the house that poetic dullness and quiet
reigned which always accompanies the pres-
ence of a betrothed couple. Often when all sit-
ting together everyone kept silent. Sometimes
the others would get up and go away and the
couple, left alone, still remained silent. They
rarely spoke of their future life. Prince An-
drew was afraid and ashamed to speak of it.
Natdsha shared this as she did all his feelings,
which she constantly divined. Once she began
questioning him about his son. Prince Andrew
blushed, as he often did now Natdsha particu-
larly liked it in him and said that his son
would not live with them.

"Why not?" asked Natdsha in a frightened
tone.

"I cannot take him away from his grand-
father, and besides . . ."

"How I should have loved him!" said Na-
tdsha, immediately guessing his thought; "but
I know you wish to avoid any pretext for find-
ing fault with us."

Sometimes the old count would come up,
kiss Prince Andrew, and ask his advice about
Pe* tya's education or Nicholas' service. The old
countess sighed as she looked at them; S6nya
was always getting frightened lest she should
be in the way and tried to find excuses for leav-
ing them alone, even when they did not wish
it. When Prince Andrew spoke (he could tell
a story very well), Natdsha listened to him with
pride; when she spoke she noticed with fear



BOOK SIX



271



and joy that he gazed attentively and scruti-
nizingly at her. She asked herself in perplexity:
"What does he look for in me? He is trying to
discover something by looking at me! What if
what he seeks in me is not there?" Sometimes
she fell into one of the mad, merry moods char-
acteristic of her, and then she particularly loved
to hear and see how Prince Andrew laughed.
He seldom laughed, but when he did he aban-
doned himself entirely to his laughter, and aft-
er such a laugh she always felt nearer to him.
Natdsha would have been completely happy if
the thought of the separation awaiting her and
drawing near had not terrified her, just as the
mere thought of it made him turn pale and
cold.

On the eve of his departure from Petersburg
Prince Andrew brought with him Pierre, who
had not been to the Rostovs' once since the
ball. Pierre seemed disconcerted and embar-
rassed. He was talking to the countess, and Na-
tdsha sat down beside a little chess table with
S6nya, thereby inviting Prince Andrew to come
too. He did so.

"You have known Bezukhov a long time?"
he asked. "Do you like him?"

"Yes, he's a dear, but very absurd."

And as usual when speaking of Pierre, she
began to tell anecdotes of his absent-minded-
ness, some of which had even been invented
about him.

"Do you know I have entrusted him with our
secret? I have known him from childhood. He
has a heart of gold. I beg you, Natalie," Prince
Andrew said with sudden seriousness "I am
going away and heaven knows what may hap-
pen. You may cease to ... all right, I know I
am not to say that. Only this, then: whatever
may happen to you when I am not here . . ."

"What can happen?"

"Whatever trouble may come," Prince An-
drew continued, "I beg you, Mademoiselle
Sophie, whatever may happen, to turn to him
alone for advice and helpl He is a most absent-
minded and absurd fellow, but he has a heart
of gold."

Neither her father, nor her mother, nor S6n-
ya, nor Prince Andrew himself could have fore-
seen how the separation from her lover would
act on Natdsha. Flushed and agitated she went
about the house all that day, dry-eyed, occupied
with most trivial matters as if not understand-
ing what awaited her. She did not even cry
when, on taking leave, he kissed her hand for
the last time. "Don't gol" she said in a tone
that made him wonder whether he really ought



not to stay and which he remembered long aft-
erwards. Nor did she cry when he was gone;
but for several days she sat in her room dry-
eyed, taking no interest in anything and only
saying now and then, "Oh, why did he go



But a fortnight after his departure, to the
surprise of those around her, she recovered
from her mental sickness just as suddenly and
became her old self again, but with a change
in her moral physiognomy, as a child gets up
after a long illness with a changed expression
of face.

CHAPTER XXV

DURING THAT YEAR after his son's departure,
Prince Nicholas Bolk6nski's health and temper
became much worse. He grew still more irri-
table, and it was Princess Mary who generally
bore the brunt of his frequent fits of unpro-
voked anger. He seemed carefully to seek out
her tender spots so as to torture her mentally
as harshly as possible. Princess Mary had two
passions and consequently two joys her neph-
ew, little Nicholas, and religion and these
were the favorite subjects of the prince's at-
tacks and ridicule. Whatever was spoken of he
would bring round to the superstitiousness of
old maids, or the petting and spoiling of chil-
dren. "You want to make him" little Nicholas
"into an old maid like yourselfl A pity!
Prince Andrew wants a son and not an old
maid," he would say. Or, turning to Mademoi-
selle Bourienne, he would ask her in Princess
Mary's presence how she liked our village
priests and icons and would joke about them.

He continually hurt Princess Mary's feelings
and tormented her, but it cost her no effort to
forgive him. Could he be to blame toward her,
or could her father, whom she knew loved her
in spite of it all, be unjust? And what is justice?
The princess never thought of that proud word
"justice." All the complex laws of man cen-
tered for her in one clear and simple law the
law of love and self-sacrifice taught us by Him
who lovingly suffered for mankind though He
Himself was God. What had she to do with
the justice or injustice of other people? She
had to endure and love, and that she did.

During the winter Prince Andrew had come
to Bald Hills and had been gay, gentle, and
more affectionate than Princess Mary had
known him for a long time past. She felt that
something had happened to him, but he said
nothing to her about his love. Before he left he
had a long talk with his father about some-



WAR AND PEACE



thing, and Princess Mary noticed that before
his departure they were dissatisfied with one
another.

Soon after Prince Andrew had gone, Prin-
cess Mary wrote to her friend Julie Karagina
in Petersburg, whom she had dreamed (as aB
girls dream) of marrying to her brother, and
who was at that time in mourning for her own
brother, killed in Turkey.

Sorrow, it seems, is our common lot, my dear,
tender friend Julie.

Your loss is so terrible that I can only explain it
to myself as a special providence of God who, lov-
ing you, wishes to try you and your excellent
mother. Oh, my friend! Religion, and religion
alone, canI will not say comfort us but save us
from despair. Religion alone can explain to us
what without its help man cannot comprehend:
why, for what cause, kind and noble beings able
to find happiness in lifenot merely harming no
one but necessary to the happiness of others are
called away to God, while cruel, useless, harmful
persons, or such as are a burden to themselves and
to others, are left living. The first death I saw,
and one I shall never forget that of my dear sis-
ter-in-lawleft that impression on me. Just as you
ask destiny why your splendid brother had to die,
so I asked why that angel Lise, who not only never
wronged anyone, but in whose soul there were
never any unkind thoughts, had to die. And what
do you think, dear friend? Five years have passed
since then, and already I, with my petty under-
standing, begin to see clearly why she had to die,
and in what way that death was but an expression
of the infinite goodness of the Creator, whose
every action, though generally incomprehensible
to us, is but a manifestation of His infinite love
for His creatures. Perhaps, I often think, she was
too angelically innocent to have the strength to
perform all a mother's duties. As a young wife she
was irreproachable; perhaps she could not have
been so as a mother. As it is, not only has she left
us, and particularly Prince Andrew, with the pur-
est regrets and memories, but probably she will
there receive a place I dare not hope for myself.
But not to speak of her alone, that early and ter-
rible death has had the most beneficent influence
on me and on my brother in spite of all our grief.
Then, at the moment of our loss, these thoughts
could not occur to me; I should then have dis-
missed them with horror, but now they are very
dear and certain. I write all this to you, dear
friend, only to convince you of the Gospel truth
which has become for me a principle of life: not
a single hair of our heads will fall without His
will. And His will is governed only by infinite love
for us, and so whatever befalls us is for our good.

You ask whether we shall spend next winter in
Moscow. In spite of my wish to see you, I do not
think so and do not want to do so. You will be sur-
prised to hear that the reason for this is Buona-



parte! The case is this: my father's health is grow-
ing noticeably worse, he cannot stand any contra-
diction and is becoming irritable. This irritability
is, as you know, chiefly directed to political ques-
tions. He cannot endure the notion that Buona-
parte is negotiating on equal terms with all the
sovereigns of Europe and particularly with our
own, the grandson of the Great Catherine! As you
know, I am quite indifferent to politics, but from
my father's remarks and his talks with Michael
Ivanovich I know all that goes on in the world
and especially about the honors conferred on
Buonaparte, who only at Bald Hills in the whole
world, it seems, is not accepted as a great man,
still less as Emperor of France. And my father can-
not stand this. It seems to me that it is chiefly
because of his political views that my father is re-
luctant to speak of going to Moscow; for he fore-
sees the encounters that would result from his way
of expressing his views regardless of anybody. All
the benefit he might derive from a course of treat-
ment he would lose as a result of the disputes
about Buonaparte which would be inevitable. In
any case it will be decided very shortly.

Our family life goes on in the old way except
for my brother Andrew's absence. He, as I wrote
you before, has changed very much of late. After
liis sorrow he only this year quite recovered his
spirits. He has again become as I used to know
him when a child: kind, affectionate, with that
heart of gold to which I know no equal. He has
realized, it seems to me, that life is not over for
him. But together with this mental change he has
grown physically much weaker. He has become
thinner and more nervous. I am anxious about
him and glad he is taking this trip abroad which
the doctors recommended long ago. I hope it will
cure him. You write that in Petersburg he is
spoken of as one of the most active, cultivated, and
capable of the young men. Forgive my vanity as a
relation, but I never doubted it. The good he has
done to everybody here, from his peasants up to
the gentry, is incalculable. On his arrival in Peters-
burg he received only his due. I always wonder at
the way rumors fly from Petersburg to Moscow, es-
pecially such false ones as that you write about I
mean the report of my brother's betrothal to the
little Rostova. I do not think my brother will ever
marry again, and certainly not her; and this is
why: first, I know that though he rarely speaks
about the wife he has lost, the grief of that loss has
gone too deep in his heart for him ever to decide
to give her a successor and our little angel a step-
mother. Secondly because, as far as I know, that
girl is not the kind of girl who could please Prince
Andrew. I do not think he would choose her for a
wife, and frankly I do not wish it. But I am run-
ning on too long and am at the end of my second
sheet. Good-by, my dear friend. May God keep
you in His holy and mighty care. My dear friend,
Mademoiselle Bourienne, sends you kisses.

MARY



BOOK SIX



273



CHAPTER XXVI

IN THE MIDDLE of the summer Princess Mary re-
ceived an unexpected letter from Prince An-
drew in Switzerland in which he gave her
strange and surprising news. He informed her
of his engagement to Natasha Rostova. The
whole letter breathed loving rapture for his
betrothed and tender and confiding affection
for his sister. He wrote that he had never loved
as he did now and that only now did he under-
stand and know what life was. He asked his
sister to forgive him for not having told her of
his resolve when he had last visited Bald Hills,
though he had spoken of it to his father. He
had not done so for fear Princess Mary should
ask her father to give his consent, irritating
him and having to bear the brunt of his dis-
pleasure without attaining her object. "Be-
sides," he wrote, "the matter was not then so
definitely settled as it is now. My father then
insisted on a delay of a year and now already
six months, half of that period, have passed,
and my resolution is firmer than ever. If the
doctors did not keep me here at the spas I
should be back in Russia, but as it is I have to
postpone my return for three months. You
know me and my relations with Father. I want
nothing from him. I have been and always
shall be independent; but to go against his will
and arouse his anger, now that he may perhaps
remain with us such a short time, would de-
stroy half my happiness. I am now writing to
him about the same question, and beg you to
choose a good moment to hand him the let-
ter and to let me know how he looks at the
whole matter and whether there is hope that
he may consent to reduce the term by four
months."

After long hesitations, doubts, and prayers,
Princess Mary gave the letter to her father. The
next day the old prince said to her quietly:

"Write and tell your brother to wait till I
am dead. ... It won't be long I shall soon set
him free."

The princess was about to reply, but her fa-
ther would not let her speak and, raising his
voice more and more, cried:

"Marry, marry, my boy! ... A good family I
. . . Clever people, eh? Rich, eh? Yes, a nice
stepmother little Nicholas will havel Write
and tell him that he may marry tomorrow if he
likes. She will be little Nicholas' stepmother
and I'll marry Bouriennel . . . Ha, ha, hal He
mustn't be without a stepmother either! Only
one thing, no more women are wanted in my
house let him marry and live by himself. Per-



haps you will go and live with him too?" he
added, turning to Princess Mary. "Go in heav-
en's name! Go out into the frost . . . the frost
... the frost!"

After this outburst the prince did not speak
any more about the matter. But repressed vex-
ation at his son's poor-spirited behavior found
expression in his treatment of his daughter.
To his former pretexts for irony a fresh one
was now added allusions to stepmothers and
amiabilities to Mademoiselle Bourienne.

"Why shouldn't I marry her?" he asked his
daughter. "She'll make a splendid princess!"

And latterly, to her surprise and bewilder-
ment, Princess Mary noticed that her father was
really associating more and more with the
Frenchwoman. She wrote to Prince Andrew
about the reception of his letter, but comforted
him with hopes of reconciling their father to
the idea.

Little Nicholas and his education, herbroth-
er Andrew, and religion were Princess Mary's
joys and consolations; but besides that, since
everyone must have personal hopes, Princess
Mary in the profoundest depths of her heart
had a hidden dream and hope that supplied
the chief consolation of her life. This comfort-
ing dream and hope were given her by God's
folk the half-witted and other pilgrims who
visited her without the prince's knowledge.
The longer she lived, the more experience and
observation she had of life, the greater was her
wonder at the shortsightedness of men who seek
enjoyment and happiness here on earth: toil-
ing, suffering, struggling, and harming one an-
other, to obtain that impossible, visionary, sin-
ful happiness. Prince Andrew had loved his
wife, she died, but that was riot enough: he
wanted to bind his happiness to another wom-
an. Her father objected to this because he
wanted a more distinguished and wealthier
match for Andrew. And they all struggled and
suffered and tormented one another and in-
jured their souls, their eternal souls, for the at-
tainment of benefits which endure but for an
instant. Not only do we know this ourselves,
but Christ, the Son of God, came down to earth
and told us that this life is but for a moment
and is a probation; yet we cling to it and think
to find happiness in it. "How is it that no one
realizes this?" thought Princess Mary. "No one
except these despised God's folk who, wallet
on back, come to me by the back door, afraid
of being seen by the prince, not for fear of ill-
usage by him but for fear of causing him to sin.
To leave family, home, and all the cares of



*74



WAR AND PEACE



worldly welfare, in order without clinging to
anything to wander in hempen rags from place
to place under an assumed name, doing no one
any harm but praying for all for those who
drive one away as well as for those who pro-
tect one: higher than that life and truth there
is no life or truth!"

There was one pilgrim, a quiet pockmarked
little woman of fifty called Theodosia, who for
over thirty years had gone about barefoot and
worn heavy chains. Princess Mary was particu-
larly fond of her. Once, when in a room with a
lamp dimly lit before the icon Theodosia was
talking of her life, the thought that Theodosia
alone had found the true path of life suddenly
came to Princess Mary with such force that she
resolved to become a pilgrim herself. When
Theodosia had gone to sleep Princess Mary
thought about this for a long time, and at last
made up her mind that, strange as it might
seem, she must go on a pilgrimage. She dis-
closed this thought to no one but to her con-
fessor, Father Akfnfi, the monk, and he ap-
proved of her intention. Under guise of a pres-
ent for the pilgrims, Princess Mary prepared
a pilgrim's complete costume for herself: a
coarse smock, bast shoes, a rough coat, and a
black kerchief. Often, approaching the chest
of drawers containing this secret treasure, Prin-



cess Mary paused, uncertain whether the time
had not already come to put her project into
execution.

Often, listening to the pilgrims' tales, she
was so stimulated by their simple speech, me-
chanical to them but to her so full of deep
meaning, that several times she was on the
point of abandoning everything and running
away from home. In imagination she already
pictured herself by Theodosia's side, dressed in
coarse rags, walking with a staff, a wallet on
her back, along the dusty road, directing her
wanderings from one saint's shrine to another,
free from envy, earthly love, or desire, and
reaching at last the place where there is no
more sorrow or sighing, but eternal joy and
bliss.

"I shall come to a place and pray there, and
before having time to get used to it or getting
to love it, I shall go farther. I will go on till my
legs fail, and I'll lie down and die somewhere,
and shall at last reach that eternal, quiet ha-
ven, where there is neither sorrow nor sighing
..." thought Princess Mary.

But afterwards, when she saw her father and
especially little Koko (Nicholas), her resolve
weakened. She wept quietly, and felt that she
was a sinner who loved her father and little
nephew more than God.



Book Seven: 1810-11



CHAPTER I

THE BIBLE LEGEND tells us that the absence of
laboridleness was a condition of the first
man's blessedness before the Fall. Fallen man
has retained a love of idleness, but the curse
weighs on the race not only because we have to
seek our bread in the sweat of our brows, but
because our moral nature is such that we can-
not be both idle and at ease. An inner voice
tells us we are in the wrong if we are idle. If
man could find a state in which he felt that
though idle he was fulfilling his duty, he would
have found one of the conditions of man's
primitive blessedness. And such a state of obli-
gatory and irreproachable idleness is the lot of
a whole class the military. The chief attrac-
tion of military service has consisted and will
consist in this compulsory and irreproachable
idleness.

Nicholas Rost6v experienced this blissful
condition to the full when, after 1807, he con-
tinued to serve in the Pdvlograd regiment, in
which he already commanded the squadron he
had taken over from Denfsov.

Rost6v had become a bluff, good-natured
fellow, whom his Moscow acquaintances would
have considered rather bad form, but who was
liked and respected by his comrades, subordi-
nates, and superiors, and was well contented
with his life. Of late, in 1809, he found in let-
ters from home more frequent complaints from
his mother that their affairs were falling into
greater and greater disorder, and that it was
time for him to come back to gladden and com-
fort his old parents.

Reading these letters, Nicholas felt a dread
of their wanting to take him away from sur-
roundings in which, protected from all the en-
tanglements of life, he was living so calmly and
quietly. He felt that sooner or later he would
have to re-enter that whirlpool of life, with its
embarrassments and affairs to be straightened
out, its accounts with stewards, quarrels, and
intrigues, its ties, society, and with S6nya's love
and his promise to her. It was all dreadfully



difficult and complicated; and he replied to his
mother in cold, formal letters in French, begin-
ning: "My dear Mamma," and ending: "Your
obedient son," which said nothing of when he
would return. In 1810 he received letters from
his parents, in which they told him of Natasha's
engagement to Bolk6nski, and that the wed-
ding would be in a year's time because the old
prince made difficulties. This letter grieved
and mortified Nicholas. In the first place he
was sorry that Natdsha, for whom he cared
more than for anyone else in the family, should
be lost to the home; and secondly, from his
hussar point of view, he regretted not to have
been there to show that fellow Bolk6nski that
connection with him was no such great honor
after all, and that if he loved Natdsha he might
dispense with permission from his dotard fa-
ther. For a moment he hesitated whether he
should not apply for leave in order to see Na-
tdsha before she was married, but then came
the maneuvers, and considerations about S6n-
ya and about the confusion of their affairs, and
Nicholas again put it off. But in the spring of
that year, he received a letter from his mother,
written without his father's knowledge, and
that letter persuaded him to return. She wrote
that if he did not come and take matters in
hand, their whole property would be sold by
auction and they would all have to go begging.
The count was so weak, and trusted Mftenka
so much, and was so good-natured, that every-
body took advantage of him and things were
going from bad to worse. "For God's sake, I
implore you, come at once if you do not wish
to make me and the whole family wretched,"
wrote the countess.

This letter touched Nicholas. He had that
common sense of a matter-of-fact man which
showed him what he ought to do.

The right thing now was, if not to retire
from the service, at any rate to go home on
leave. Why he had to go he did not know; but
after his after-dinner nap he gave orders to
saddle Mars, an extremely vicious gray stallion,



*75



276

that had not been ridden for a long time, and
when he returned with the horse all in a lather,
he informed Lavriishka (Denfsov's servant
who had remained with him) and his comrades
who turned up in the evening that he was ap-
plying for leave and was going home. Difficult
and strange as it was for him to reflect that he
would go away without having heard from the
staff and this interested him extremely
whether he was promoted to a captaincy or
would receive the Order of St. Anne for the
last maneuvers; strange as it was to think that
he would go away without having sold his three
roans to the Polish Count Golukhovski, who
was bargaining for the horses Rost6v had
betted he would sell for two thousand rubles;
incomprehensible as it seemed that the ball
the hussars were giving in honor of the Polish
Mademoiselle Przazdziecka (out of rivalry to
the Uhlans who had given one in honor of
their Polish Mademoiselle Borzozowska) would
take place without him he knew he must go
away from this good, bright world to some-
where where everything was stupid and con-
fused. A week later he obtained his leave. His
hussar comrades not only those of his own
regiment, but the whole brigade gave Rostov
a dinner to which the subscription was fifteen
rubles a head, and at which there were two
bands and two choirs of singers. Rost6v danced
the Trepak with Major Basov; the tipsy officers
tossed, embraced, and dropped RostcW; the
soldiers of the third squadron tossed him too,
and shouted "hurrah!" and then they put him
in his sleigh and escorted him as far as the first
post station.

During the first half of the journey from
Kremenchug to Kiev all Rost6v's thoughts, as
is usual in such cases, were behind him, with the
squadron; but when he had gone more than
halfway he began to forget his three roans and
Dozhoyve*yko, his quartermaster, and to won-
der anxiously how things would be at Otrad-
noe and what he would find there. Thoughts
of home grew stronger the nearer he approached
it far stronger, as though this feeling of his
was subject to the law by which the force of at-
traction is in inverse proportion to the square
of the distance. At the last post station before
Otrddnoe he gave the driver a three-ruble tip,
and on arriving he ran breathlessly, like a boy,
up the steps of his home.

After the rapture of meeting, and after that
odd feeling of unsatisfied expectation the
feeling that "everything is just the same, so



WAR AND PEACE

down in his old home world. His father and
mother were much the same, only a little older.
What was new in them was a certain uneasi-
ness and occasional discord, which there used
not to be, and which, as Nicholas soon found
out, was due to the bad state of their affairs.
S6nya was nearly twenty; she had stopped
growing prettier and promised nothing more
than she was already, but that was enough.
She exhaled happiness and love from the time
Nicholas returned, and the faithful, unalter-
able love of this girl had a gladdening effect on
hirn. P(kya and Natasha surprised Nicholas
most. Pc"tya was a big handsome boy of thir-
teen, merry, witty, and mischievous, with a
voice that was already breaking. As for Nata-
sha, for a long while Nicholas wondered and
laughed whenever he looked at her.

"You're not the same at all," he said.

"How? Am I uglier?"

"On the contrary, but what dignityl A prin-
cess!" he whispered to her.

"Yes,. yes, yes!" cried Natasha, joyfully.

She told him about her romance with Prince
Andrew and of his visit to Otrddnoe and
showed him his last letter.

"Well, are you glad?" Natdsha asked. "I am
so tranquil and happy now."

"Very glad," answered Nicholas. "He is an

excellent fellow And are you very much in

love?"

"How shall I put it?" replied Natdsha. "I
was in love with Boris, with my teacher, and
with Denisov, but this is quite different. I feel
at peace and settled. I know that no better
man than he exists, and I am calm and con-
tented now. Not at all as before."

Nicholas expressed his disapproval of the
postponement of the marriage for a year; but
Natdsha attacked her brother with exaspera-
tion, proving to him that it could not be oth-
erwise, and that it would be a bad thing to en-
ter a family against the father's will, and that
she herself wished it so.

"You don't at all understand/' she said.

Nicholas was silent and agreed with her.

Her brother often wondered as he looked at
her. She did not seem at all like a girl in love
and parted from her affianced husband. She
was even-tempered and calm and quite as
cheerful as of old. This amazed Nicholas and
even made him regard Bolk6nski's courtship
skeptically. He could not believe that her
fate was sealed, especially as he had not seen
her with Prince Andrew. It always seemed-



why did I hurry?" Nicholas began to settle to him that there was something not quite



right about this intended marriage.

"Why this delay? Why no betrothal?" he
thought. Once, when he had touched on this
topic with his mother, he discovered, to his sur-
prise and somewhat to his satisfaction, that in
the depth of her soul she too had doubts about
this marriage.

"You see he writes," said she, showing her
son a letter of Prince Andrew's, with that la-
tent grudge a mother always has in regard to a
daughter's future married happiness, "he writes
that he won't come before December. What
can be keeping him? Illness, probably! His
health is very delicate. Don't tell Natdsha. And
don't attach importance to her being so bright:
that's because she's living through the last days
of her girlhood, but I know what she is like
every time we receive a letter from him! How-
ever, God grant that everything turns out
well!" (She always ended with these words.)
"He is an excellent man!"

CHAPTER II

AFTER REACHING HOME Nicholas was at first
serious and even dull. He was worried by the
impending necessity of interferinginthestupid
business matters for which his mother had
called him home. To throw off this burden as
quickly as possible, on the third day after his
arrival he went, angry and scowling and with-
out answering questions as to where he was
going, to Mitenka's lodge and demanded an
account of everything. But what an account of
everything might be Nicholas knew even less
than the frightened and bewildered Mitenka.
The conversation and the examination of the
accounts with Mitenka did not last long. The
village elder, a peasant delegate, and the vil-
lage clerk, who were waiting in the passage,
heard with fear and delight first the young
count's voice roaring and snapping and rising
louder and louder, and then words of abuse,
dreadful words, ejaculated one after the other.

"Robber! . . . Ungrateful wretch! . . .I'll hack
the dog to pieces! I'm not my father! . . . Rob-
bing us! . . ." and so on.

Then with no less fear and delight they saw
how the young count, red in the face and with
bloodshot eyes, dragged MUenka out by the
scruff of the neck and applied his foot and
knee to him behind with great agility at con-
venient moments between the words, shout-
ing, "Be off! Never let me see your face here
again, you villain!"

Mitenka flew headlong down the six steps
and ran away into the shrubbery. (This shrub-



BOOK SEVEN 277

bery was a well-known haven of refuge for cul-



prits at Otrddnoe. Mftenka himself, returning
tipsy from the town, used to hide there, and
many of the residents at Otrddnoe, hiding from
Mitenka, knew of its protective qualities.)

Mf tenka's wife and sisters-in-law thrust their
heads and frightened faces out of the door of a
room where a bright samovar was boiling and
where the steward's high bedstead stood with
its patchwork quilt.

The young count paid no heed to them, but,
breathing hard, passed by with resolute strides
and went into the house.

The countess, who heard at once from the
maids what had happened at the lodge, was
calmed by the thought that now their affairs
would certainly improve, but on the other
hand felt anxious as to the effect this excite-
ment might have on her son. She went several
times to his door on tiptoe and listened, as he
lighted one pipe after another.

Next day the old count called his son aside
and, with an embarrassed smile, said to him:

"But you know, my dear boy, it's a pity you
got excited! Mitenka has told me all about it."

"I knew," thought Nicholas, "that I should
never understand any thing in this crazy world."

"You were angry that he had not entered
those 700 rubles. But they were carried for-
wardand you did not look at the other page."

"Papa, he is a blackguard and a thief! I know
he is! And what I have done, I have done; but,
if you like, I won't speak to him again."

"No, my dear boy" (the count, too, felt em-
barrassed. He knew he had mismanaged his
wife's property and was to blame toward his
children, but he did not know how to remedy
it). "No, I beg you to attend to the business. I
am old. I ..."

"No, Papa. Forgive me if I have caused you
unpleasantness. I understand it all less than
you do."

"Devil take all these peasants, and money
matters, and carryings forward from page to
page," he thought. "I used to understand what
a 'corner* and the stakes at cards meant, but
carrying forward to another page I don't un-
derstand at all," said he to himself, and after
that he did not meddle in business affairs. But
once the countess called her son and informed
him that she had a promissory note from Anna
Mikhdylovna for two thousand rubles, and
asked him what he thought of doing with it.

"This," answered Nicholas. "You say it rests
with me. Well, I don't like Anna Mikhdylov-
na and I don't like Boris, but they were our



278



WAR AND PEACE



friends and poor. Well then, this I" and he tore
up the note, and by so doing caused the old
countess to weep tears of joy. After that, young
Rost6v took no further part in any business af-
fairs, but devoted himself with passionate en-
thusiasm to what was to him a new pursuit
the chase for which his father kept a large
establishment.

CHAPTER III

THE WEATHER was already growing wintry and
morning frosts congealed an earth saturated
by autumn rains. The verdure had thickened
and its bright green stood out sharply against
the brownish strips of winter rye trodden down
by the cattle, and against the pale-yellow stub-
ble of the spring sowing and the reddish strips
of buckwheat. The wooded ravines and the
copses, which at the end of August had still
been green islands amid black fields and stub-
ble, had become golden and bright-red islands
amid the green winter rye. The hares had al-
ready half changed their summer coats, the fox
cubs were beginning to scatter, and the young
wolves were bigger than dogs. It was the best
time of the year for the chase. The hounds of
that ardent young sportsman Rostov had not
merely reached hard winter condition, but
were so jaded that at a meetingof the huntsmen
it was decided to give them a three days' rest
and then, on the sixteenth of September, to go
on a distant expedition, starting from the oak
grove where there was an undisturbed litter of
wolf cubs.

All that day the hounds remained at home.
It was frosty and the air was sharp, but toward
evening the sky became overcast and it began
to thaw. On the fifteenth, when young Rost6v,
in his dressing gown, looked out of the window,
he saw it was an unsurpassable morning for
hunting: it was as if the sky were melting and
sinking to the earth without any wind. The
only motion in the air was that of the dripping,
microscopic particles of drizzling mist. The
bare twigs in the garden were hung with trans-
parent drops which fell on the freshly fallen
leaves. The earth in the kitchen garden looked
wet and black and glistened like poppy seed
and at a short distance merged into the dull,
moist veil of mist. Nicholas went out into the
wet and muddy porch. There was a smell of
decaying leaves and of dog. Milka, a black-
spotted, broad-haunched bitch with prominent
black eyes, got up on seeing her master,
stretched her hind legs, lay down like a hare,
and then suddenly jumped up and licked him



right on his nose and mustache. Another bor-
zoi, a dog, catching sight of his master from the
garden path, arched his back and, rushing
headlong toward the porch with lifted tail, be-
gan rubbing himself against his legs.

"O-hoy!" came at that moment, that inimi-
table huntsman's call which unites the deepest
bass with the shrillest tenor, and round the
corner came Daniel the head huntsman and
head kennelman, a gray, wrinkled old man
with hair cut straight over his forehead, Ukrain-
ian fashion, a long bent whip in his hand, and
that look of independence and scorn of every-
thing that is only seen in huntsmen. He doffed
his Circassian cap to his master and looked at
him scornfully. This scorn was not offensive to
his master. Nicholas knew that this Daniel, dis-
dainful of everybody and who considered him-
self above them, was all the same his serf and
huntsman.

"Daniel!" Nicholas said timidly, conscious
at the sight of the weather, the hounds, and the
huntsman that he was being carried away by
that irresistible passion for sport which makes
a man forget all his previous resolutions, as a
lover forgets in the presence of his mistress.

"What orders, your excellency?" said the
huntsman in his deep bass, deep as a proto-
deacon's and hoarse with hallooing and two
flashing black eyes gazed from under his brows
at his master, who was silent. "Can you resist
it?" those eyes seemed to be asking.

"It's a good day, eh? For a hunt and a gallop,
eh?" asked Nicholas, scratching Mflka behind
the ears.

Daniel did not answer, but winked instead.

"I sent Uvrirka at dawn to listen," his bass
boomed out after a minute's pause. "He says
she's moved them into the OtrAdnoe enclosure.
They were howling there." (This meant that
the she-wolf, about whom they both knew, had
moved with her cubs to the Otradnoe copse, a
small place a mile and a half from the house.)

"We ought to go, don't you think so?" said
Nicholas. "Come to me with Uvrka."

"As you please."

"Then put off feeding them."

"Yes, sir."

Five minutes later Daniel and Uvdrka were
standing in Nicholas' big study. Though Daniel
was not a big man, to see him in a room was
like seeing a horse or a bear on the floor among
the furniture and surroundings of human life.
Daniel himself felt this, and as usual stood just
inside the door, trying to speak softly and not
move, for fear of breaking something in the



BOOK SEVEN



master's apartment, and he hastened to say all
that was necessary so as to get from under that
ceiling, out into the open under the sky once
more.

Having finished his inquiries and extorted
from Daniel an opinion that the hounds were
fit (Daniel himself wished to go hunting), Nich-
olas ordered the horses to be saddled. But just
as Daniel was about to go Natdsha came in with
rapid steps, not having done up her hair or fin-
ished dressing and with her old nurse's big
shawl wrapped round her. Pe'tya ran in at the
same time.

"You are going?" asked Natdsha. "I knew you
would! S6nya said you wouldn't go, but I knew
that today is the sort of day when you couldn't
help going."

"Yes, we are going," replied Nicholas reluc-
tantly, for today, as he intended to hunt seri-
ously, he did not want to take Natasha and Pe't-
ya. "We are going, but only wolf hunting: it
would be dull for you."

"You know it is my greatest pleasure," said
Natdsha. "It's not fair; you are going by your-
self, are having the horses saddled and said
nothing to us about it."

" 'No barrier bars a Russian's path' we'll
go!" shouted Pdtya.

"But you can't. Mamma said you mustn't,"
said Nicholas to Natdsha.

"Yes, I'll go. I shall certainly go," said Na-
tdsha decisively. "Daniel, tell them to saddle
for us, and Michael must come with my dogs,"
she added to the huntsman.

It seemed to Daniel irksome and improper
to be in a room at all, but to have anything to
do with a young lady seemed to him impossible.
He cast down his eyes and hurried out as if it
were none of his business, careful as he went
not to inflict any accidental injury on the
young lady.

CHAPTER IV

THE OLD COUNT, who had always kept up an
enormous hunting establishment but had now
handed it all completely over to his son's care,
being in very good spirits on this fifteenth of
September, prepared to go out with the others.
In an hour's time the whole hunting party
was at the porch. Nicholas, with a stern and
serious air which showed that now was no time
for attending to trifles, went past Natdsha and
Ptya who were trying to tell him something.
He had a look at all the details of the hunt, sent
a pack of hounds and huntsmen on ahead to
find the quarry, mounted his chestnut Done* ts,



and whistling to his own leash of borzois, set
off across the threshing ground to a field lead-
ing to the Otrddnoe wood. The old count's
horse, a sorrel gelding called Viflydnka, was led
by the groom in attendance on him, while the
count himself was to drive in a small trap
straight to a spot reserved for him.

They were taking fifty-four hounds, with six
hunt attendants and whippers-in. Besides the
family, there were eight borzoi kennelmen and
more than forty borzois, so that, with the bor-
zois on the leash belonging to members of the
family, there were about a hundred and thirty
dogs and twenty horsemen.

Each dog knew its master and its call. Each
man in the hunt knew his business, his place,
and what he had to do. As soon as they had
passed the fence they all spread out evenly and
quietly, without noise or talk, along the road
and field leading to the Otrddnoe covert.

The horses stepped over the field as over a
thick carpet, now and then splashing into pud-
dles as they crossed a road. The misty sky still
seemed to descend evenly and imperceptibly
toward the earth, the air was still, warm, and
silent. Occasionally the whistle of a huntsman,
the snort of a horse, the crack of a whip, or the
whine of a straggling hound could be heard.

When they had gone a little less than a mile,
five more riders with dogs appeared out of the
mist, approaching the Rostovs. In front rode a
fresh-looking, handsome old man with a large
gray mustache.

"Good morning, Uncle!" said Nicholas, when
the old man drew near.

"That's it. Come on! ... I was sure of it,"
began "Uncle." (He was a distant relative of
the Rostovs', a man of small means, and their
neighbor.) "I knew you wouldn't be able to re-
sist it and it's a good thing you're going. That's
it! Come on!" (This was "Uncle's" favorite ex-
pression.) "Take the covert at once, for my Gir-
chik says the Ildgins are at Korniki with their
hounds. That's it. Come on! ... They'll take
the cubs from under your very nose."

"That's where I'm going. Shall we join up
our packs?" asked Nicholas.

The hounds were joined into one pack, and
"Uncle" and Nicholas rode on side by side. Na-
tdsha, muffled up in shawls which did not hide
her eager face and shining eyes, galloped up to
them. She was followed by Ptya who always
kept close to her, by Michael, a huntsman, and
by a groom appointed to look after her. Ptya,
who was laughing, whipped and pulled at his
horse. Natdsha sat easily and confidently on



280



WAR AND PEACE



her black Ardbchik and reined him in without
effort with a firm hand.

"Uncle" looked round disapprovingly at Pe"t-
ya and Natdsha. He did not like to combine
frivolity with the serious business of hunting.

"Good morning, Uncle! We are going too!"
shouted Ptya.

"Good morning, good morning! But don't
go overriding the hounds," said "Uncle" stern-

iy-

"Nicholas, what a fine dog Trunfla is! He
knew me," said Natdsha, referring to her favor-
ite hound.

"In the first place, Trunfla is not a 'dog/ but
a harrier," thought Nicholas, and looked stern-
ly at his sister, trying to make her feel the dis-
tance that ought to separate them at that mo-
ment. Natdsha understood it.

"You mustn't think we'll be in anyone's way,
Uncle," she said. "We'll go to our places and
won't budge."

"A good thing too, little countess," said "Un-
cle," "only mind you don't fall off your horse,"
he added, "becausethat's it, come on! you've
nothing to hold on to."

The oasis of the Otrddnoe covert came in
sight a few hundred yards off, the huntsmen
were already nearing it. Rostov, having finally
settled with "Uncle" where they should set on
the hounds, and having shown Natasha where
she was to standa spot where nothing could
possibly run out went round above the ravine.

"Well, nephew, you're going for a big wolf,"
said "Uncle." "Mind and don't let her slip!"

"That's as may happen," answered Rost6v.
"Karay, here!" he shouted, answering "Uncle's"
remark by this call to his borzoi. Karay was a
shaggy old dog with a hanging jowl, famous
for having tackled a big wolf unaided. They
all took up their places.

The old count, knowing his son's ardor in
the hunt, hurried so as not to be late, and the
hunstmen had not yet reached their places
when Count Ilyd Rostov, cheerful, flushed, and
with quivering cheeks, drove up with his black
horses over the winter rye to the place reserved
for him, where a wolf might come out. Having
straightened his coat and fastened on his hunt-
ing knives and horn, he mounted his good,
sleek, well-fed, and comfortable horse, Viflyan-
ka, which was turning gray, like himself. His
horses and trap were sent home. Count Ilyd
Rost6v, though not at heart a keen sportsman,
knew the rulesof the hunt well, and rode to the
bushy edge of the road where he was to stand,
arranged his reins, settled himself in the sad-



dle, and, feeling that he was ready, looked
about with a smile.

Beside him was Simon Chekmar, his person-
al attendant, an old horseman now somewhat
stiff in the saddle. Chekmar held in leash three
formidable wolfhounds, who had, however,
grown fat like their master and his horse. Two
wise old dogs lay down unleashed. Some hun-
dred paces farther along the edge of the wood
stood Mitka, the count's other groom, a daring
horseman and keen rider to hounds. Before the
hunt, by old custom, the count had drunk a
silver cupful of mulled brandy, taken a snack,
and washed it down with half a bottle of his
favorite Bordeaux.

He was somewhat flushed with the wine and
the drive. His eyes were rather moist and glit-
tered more than usual, and as he sat in his sad-
dle, wrapped up in his fur coat, he looked like
a child taken out for an outing.

The thin, hollow-cheeked Chekmar, having
got everything ready, kept glancing at his mas-
ter with whom he had lived on the best of terms
for thirty years, and understanding the mood
he was in expected a pleasant chat. A third
person rode up circumspectly through the wood
(it was plain that he had had a lesson) and
stopped behind the count. This person was a
gray-bearded old man in a woman's cloak, with
a tall peaked cap on his head. He was the buf-
foon, who went by a woman's name, Nastdsya
Ivanovna.

"Well, Nastdsya Ivdnovna!" whispered the
count, winking at him. "If you scare away the
beast, Daniel'll give it you!"

"I know a thing or two myself!" said Nas-
tdsya Ivdnovna.

"Hush!" whispered the count and turned to
Simon. "Have you seen the young countess?"
he asked. "Where is she?"

"With young Count Peter, by the Zhdrov
rank grass," answered Simon, smiling. "Though
she's a lady, she's very fond of hunting."

"And you're surprised at the way she rides,
Simon, eh?" said the count. "She's as good as
many a man!"

"Of course! It's marvelous. So bold, so easy!"

"And Nicholas? Where is he? By the Lyddov
upland, isn't he?"

"Yes, sir. He knows where to stand. He un-
derstands the matter so well that Daniel and I
are often quite astounded," said Simon, well
knowing what would please his master.

"Rides well, eh? And how well he looks on
his horse, eh?"

"A perfect picture! How he chased a fox out



BOOK SEVEN



281



of the rank grass by the Zavarzinsk thicket the
other day! Leaped a fearful place; what a sight
when they rushed from the covert . . . the horse
worth a thousand rubles and the rider beyond
all price! Yes, one would have to search far to
find another as smart."

"To search far . . ." repeated the count, evi-
dently sorry Simon had not said more. "To
search far," he said, turning back the skirt of
his coat to get at his snuffbox.

"The other day when he came out from Mass
in full uniform, Michael Sid6rych . . ." Simon
did not finish, for on the still air he had dis-
tinctly caught the music of the hunt with only,
two or three hounds giving tongue. He bent
down his head and listened, shaking a warn-
ing finger at his master. "They are on the scent
of the cubs . . ." he whispered, "straight to the
Lyadov uplands."

The count, forgetting to smooth out the
smile on his face, looked into the distance
straight before him, down the narrow open
space, holding the snuff box in his hand but not
taking any. After the cry of the hounds came
the deep tones of the wolf call from Daniel's
hunting horn; the pack joined the first three
hounds and they could be heard in full cry,
with that peculiar lift in the note that indicates
that they are after a wolf. The whippers-in no
longer set on the hounds, but changed to the
cry of ulyulyu, and above the others rose Dan-
iel's voice, now a deep bass, now piercingly
shrill. His voice seemed to fill the whole wood
and carried far beyond out into the open field.

After listening a few moments in silence, the
count and his attendant convinced themselves
that the hounds had separated into two packs:
the sound of the larger pack, eagerly giving
tongue, began to die away in the distance, the
other pack rushed by the wood past the count,
and it was with this that Daniel's voice was
heard calling ulyulyu. The sounds of both
packs mingled and broke apart again, but both
were becoming more distant.

Simon sighed and stooped to straighten the
leash a young borzoi had entangled; the count
too sighed and, noticing the snuffbox in his
hand, opened it and took a pinch. "Backl"
cried Simon to a borzoi that was pushing for-
ward out of the wood. The count started and
dropped the snuffbox. Nastasya Ivanovna dis-
mounted to pick it up. The count and Simon
were looking at him.

Then, unexpectedly, as often happens, the
sound of the hunt suddenly approached, as if
the hounds in full cry and Daniel ulyulyuing



were just in front of them.

The count turned and saw on his right Mit-
ka staring at him with eyes starting out of his
head, raising his cap and pointing before him
to the other side.

"Look out!" he shouted, in a voice plainly
showing that he had long fretted to utter that
word, and letting the borzois slip he galloped
toward the count.

The count and Simon galloped out of the
wood and saw on their left a wolf which, softly
swaying from side to side, was coming at a
quiet lope farther to the left to the very place
where they were standing. The angry borzois
whined and getting free of the leash rushed
past the horses' feet at the wolf.

The wolf paused, turned its heavy forehead
toward the dogs awkwardly, like a man suffer-
ing from the quinsy, and, still slightly swaying
from side to side, gave a couple of leaps and
with a swish of its tail disappeared into the
skirt of the wood. At the same instant, with a
cry like a wail, first one hound, then another,
and then another, sprang helter-skelter from
the wood opposite and the whole pack rushed
across the field toward the very spot where the
wolf had disappeared. The hazel bushes parted
behind the hounds and Daniel's chestnut horse
appeared, dark with sweat. On its long back
sat Daniel, hunched forward, capless, his di-
sheveled gray hair hanging over his flushed,
perspiring face.

"Ulyulyulyu! ulyulyu! . . ." he cried. When
he caught sight of the count his eyes flashed
lightning.

"Blast you! "he shouted, holding up his whip
threateningly at the count.

"You've let the wolf go! . . .What sportsmen I"
and as if scorning to say more to the frightened
and shamefaced count, he lashed the heaving
flanks of his sweating chestnut gelding with all
the anger the count had aroused and flew off
after the hounds. The count, like a punished
schoolboy, looked round, trying by a smile to
win Simon'ssympathyforhis plight. But Simon
was no longer there. He was galloping round
by the bushes while the field was coming up
on both sides, all trying to head the wolf, but
it vanished into the wood before they could do
so.

CHAPTER V

NICHOLAS ROSTOV meanwhile remained at his
post, waiting for the wolf. By the way the hunt
approached and receded, by the cries of the
dogs whose notes were familiar to him, by the



282



WAR AND PEACE



way the voices of the huntsmen approached,
receded, and rose, he realized what was hap-
pening at the copse. He knew that young and
old wolves were there, that the hounds had
separated into two packs, that somewhere a
wolf was being chased, and that something had
gone wrong. He expected the wolf to come his
way any moment. He made thousands of dif-
ferent conjectures as to where and from what
side the beast would come and how he would
set upon it. Hope alternated with despair. Sev-
eral times he addressed a prayer to God that
the wolf should come his way. He prayed with
that passionate and shame-faced feeling with
which men pray at moments of great excite-
ment arising from trivial causes. "What would
it be to Thee to do this for me?" he said to
God. "I know Thou art great, and that it is a
sin to ask this of Thee, but for God's sake do
let the old wolf come my way and let Karay
spring at it in sight of 'Uncle' who is watch-
ing from over there and seize it by the throat
in a death grip!" A thousand times during that
half-hour Rost6v cast eager and restless glances
over the edge of the wood, with the two scrag-
gy oaks rising above the aspen undergrowth
and the gully with its water-worn side and
"Uncle's" cap just visible above the bush on his
right.

"No, I shan't have such luck," thought Ros-
t6v, "yet what wouldn't it be worth! It is not to
be! Everywhere, at cards and in war, I am al-
ways unlucky." Memories of Austerlitz and of
D61okhov flashed rapidly and clearly through
his mind. "Only once in my life to get an old
wolf, I want only that!" thought he, straining
eyes and ears and looking to the left and then
to the right and listening to the slightest vari-
ation of note in the cries of the dogs.

Again he looked to the right and saw some-
thing running toward him across the deserted
field. "No, it can't be!" thought Rost6v, tak-
ing a deep breath, as a man does at the coming
of something long hoped for. The height of
happiness was reached and so simply, with-
out warning, or noise, or display, that Rost6v
could not believe his eyes and remained in
doubt for over a second. The wolf ran for-
ward and jumped heavily over a gully that
lay in her path. She was an old animal with a
gray back and big reddish belly. She ran with-
out hurry, evidently feeling sure that no one
saw her. Rost6v, holding his breath, looked
round at the borzois. They stood or lay not see-
ing the wolf or understanding the situation.
Old Karay had turned his head and was angri-



ly searching for fleas, baring his yellow teeth
and snapping at his hind legs.

"Ulyulyulyu!" whispered Rost6v, pouting
his lips. The borzois jumped up, jerking the
rings of the leashes and pricking their ears.
Karay finished scratching his hindquarters
and, cocking his ears, got up with quivering
tail from which tufts of matted hair hung
down.

"Shall I loose them or not?" Nicholas asked
himself as the wolf approached him coming
from the copse. Suddenly the wolf's whole phys-
iognomy changed: she shuddered, seeing what
she had probably never seen before human
eyes fixed upon her and turning her head a
little toward Rost6v, she paused.

"Back or forward? Eh, no matter, forward
. . ." the wolf seemed to say to herself, and she
moved forward without again looking round
and with a quiet, long, easy yet resolute lope.

"Ulyulyu!" cried Nicholas, in a voice not his
own, and of its own accord his good horse dart-
ed headlong downhill, leaping over gullies to
head off the wolf, and the borzois passed it,
running faster still. Nicholas did not hear his
own cry nor feel that he was galloping, nor see
the borzois, nor the groundover which he went:
he saw only the wolf, who, increasing her speed,
bounded on in the same direction along the
hollow. The first to come into view was Milka,
with her black markings and powerful quarters,
gaining upon the wolf. Nearer and nearer . . .
now she was ahead of it; but the wolf turned
its head to face her, and instead of putting on
speed as she usually did Mflka suddenly raised
her tail and stiffened her forelegs.

"Ulyulyulyulyu!" shouted Nicholas.

The reddish Lyubfm rushed forward from
behind Milka, sprang impetuously at the wolf,
and seized it by its hindquarters, but immedi-
ately jumped aside in terror. The wolf crouched,
gnashed her teeth, and again rose and bound-
ed forward, followed at the distance of a couple
of feet by all the borzois, who did not get any
closer to her.

"She'll get away! No, it's impossible! "thought
Nicholas, still shouting with a hoarse voice.

"Karay, ulyulyu! . . ." he shouted, looking
round for the old borzoi who was now his only
hope. Karay, with all the strength age had left
him, stretched himself to the utmost and, watch-
ing the wolf, galloped heavily aside to intercept
it. But the quickness of the wolf's lope and the
borzoi's slower pace made it plain that Karay
had miscalculated. Nicholas could already see
not far in front of him the wood where the wolf



BOOK SEVEN



283



would certainly escape should she reach it. But,
coining toward him, he saw hounds and a hunts-
man galloping almost straight at the wolf.
There was still hope. A long, yellowish young
borzoi, one Nicholas did not know, from an-
other leash, rushed impetuously at the wolf
from in front and almost knocked her over. But
the wolf jumped up more quickly than anyone
could have expected and, gnashing her teeth,
flew at the yellowish borzoi, which, with a
piercing yelp, fell with its head on the ground,
bleeding from a gash in its side.

"Karay? Old fellow! . . ." wailed Nicholas.

Thanks to the delay caused by this crossing
of the wolf's path, the old dog with its felted
hair hanging from its thigh was within five
paces of it. As if aware of her danger, the wolf
turned her eyes on Karay, tucked her tail yet
further between her legs, and increased her
speed. But here Nicholas only saw that some-
thing happened to Karay the borzoi was sud-
denly on the wolf, and they rolled together
down into a gully just in front of them.

That instant, when Nicholas saw the wolf
strugglingin thegullywith the dogs, while from
under them could be seen her gray hair and out-
stretched hind leg and her frightened choking
head, with her ears laid back (Karay was pin-
ning her by the throat), was the happiest mo-
ment of his life. With his hand on his saddle-
bow, he was ready to dismount and stab the
wolf, when she suddenly thrust her head up
from among that mass of dogs, and then her
forepaws were on the edge of the gully. She
clicked her teeth (Karay no longer had her by
the throat), leaped with a movement of her
hind legs out of the gully, and having disen-
gaged herself from the dogs, with tail tucked
in again, went forward. Kardy, his hair bris-
tling, and probably bruised or wounded,
climbed with difficulty out of the gully. .

"Oh my God! Why?" Nicholas cried in des-
pair.

i "Uncle's" huntsman was galloping from the
other side across the wolf's path and his borzois
once more stopped the animal's advance. She
was again hemmed in.

Nicholas and his attendant, with "Uncle"
and his huntsman, were all riding round the
wolf, crying "ulyulyu!" shouting and prepar-
ing to dismount each moment that the wolf
crouched back, and starting forward again ev-
ery time she shook herself and moved toward
the wood where she would be safe.

Already, at the beginning of this chase,
Daniel, hearing theulyulyuing, had rushed out



from the wood. He saw Karay seize the wolf,
and checked his horse, supposing the affair to
be over. But when he saw that the horsemen
did not dismount and that the wolf shook her-
self and ran for safety, Daniel set his chestnut
galloping, not at the wolf but straight toward
the wood, just as Karay had run to cut the ani-
mal off. As a result of this, he galloped up to
the wolf just when she had been stopped a sec-
ond time by "Uncle's" borzois.

Daniel galloped up silently, holding a naked
dagger in his left hand and thrashing the la-
boring sides of his chestnut horse with his whip
as if it were a flail.

Nicholas neither saw nor heard Daniel un-
til the chestnut, breathing heavily, panted past
him, and he heard the fall of a body and saw
Daniel lying on the wolf's back among the dogs,
trying to seize her by the ears. It was evident
to the dogs, the hunters, and to the wolf her-
self that all was now over. The terrified wolf
pressed back her ears and tried to rise, but the
borzois stuck to her. Daniel rose a little, took
a step, and with his whole weight, as if lying
down to rest, fell on the wolf, seizing her by
the ears. Nicholas was about to stab her, but
Daniel whispered, "Don't! We'll gag her!" and,
changing his position, set his foot on the wolf's
neck. A stick was thrust between her jaws and
she was fastened with a leash, as if bridled, her
legs were bound together, and Daniel rolled
her over once or twice from side to side.

With happy, exhausted faces, they laid the
old wolf, alive, on a shying and snorting horse
and, accompanied by the dogs yelping at her,
took her to the place where they were all to
meet. The hounds had killed two of the cubs
and the borzois three. The huntsmen assem-
bled with their booty and their stories, and all
came to look at the wolf, which, with her
broad-browed head hanging down and the bit-
ten stick between her jaws, gazed with great
glassy eyes at this crowd of dogs and men sur-
rounding her. When she was touched, she jerked
her bound legs and looked wildly yet simply at
everybody. Old Count Rost6valso rode up and
touched the wolf.

"Oh, what a formidable one!" said he. "A
formidable one, eh?" he asked Daniel, who was
standing near.

"Yes, your excellency," answered Daniel,
quickly doffing his cap.

The count remembered the wolf he had let
slip and his encounter with Daniel.

"Ah, but you are a crusty fellow, friend!"
said the count.



284



WAR AND PEACE



For sole reply Daniel gave him a shy, child-
like, meek, and amiable smile.

CHAPTER VI

THE OLD COUNT went home, and Natdsha and
P^tya promised to return very soon, but as it
was still early the hunt went farther. At mid-
day they put the hounds into a ravine thickly
overgrown with young trees. Nicholas standing
in a fallow field could see all his whips.

Facing him lay a field of winter rye, and there
his own huntsman stood alone in a hollow be-
hind a hazel bush. The hounds had scarcely
been loosed before Nicholas heard one he
knew, Volt6rn, giving tongue at intervals; oth-
er hounds joined in, now pausing and now a-
gain giving tongue. A moment later he heard a
cry from the wooded ravine that a fox had been
found, and the whole pack, joining together,
rushed along the ravine toward theryefield and
away from Nicholas.

He saw the whips in their red caps galloping
along the edge of the ravine, he even saw the
hounds, and was expecting a fox to show itself
at any moment on the ryefield opposite.

The huntsman standing in the hollow moved
and loosed his borzois, and Nicholas saw a
queer, short-legged red fox with a fine brush
going hard across the field. The borzois bore
down on it. ... Now they drew close to the fox
which began to dodge between the field in
sharper and sharper curves, trailing its brush,
when suddenly a strange white borzoi dashed
in followed by a black one, and everything was
in confusion; the borzois formed a star-shaped
figure, scarcely swaying their bodies and with
tails turned away from the center of the group.
Two huntsmen galloped up to the dogs; one in
a red cap, the other, a stranger, in a green coat.

"What's this?" thought Nicholas. "Where's
that huntsman from? He is not 'Uncle's' man."

The huntsmen got the fox, but stayed there
a long time without strapping it to the saddle.
Their horses, bridled and with high saddles,
stood near them and there too the dogs were
lying. The huntsmen waved their arms and
did something to the fox. Then from that spot
came the sound of a horn, with the signal agreed
on in case of a fight.

"That's Ilagin's huntsman havinga row with
our Ivdn," said Nicholas* groom.

Nicholas sent the man to call Natasha and
Ptya to him, and rode at a footpace to the
place where the whips were getting the hounds
together. Several of the field galloped to the
spot where the fight was going on.



Nicholas dismounted, and with Natasha and
Pe"tya, who had ridden up, stopped near the
hounds, waiting to see how the matter would
end. Out of the bushes came the huntsman who
had been fighting and rode toward his young
master, with the fox tied to his crupper. While
still at a distance he took off his cap and tried
to speak respectfully, but he was pale and
breathless and his face was angry. One of his
eyes was black, but he probably was not even
aware of it.

"What has happened?" asked Nicholas.

"A likely thing, killing a fox our dogs had
huntedl And it was my gray bitch that caught
it! Go to law, indeed! ... He snatches at the
fox! I gave him one with the fox. Here it is on
my saddle! Do you want a taste of this? . . ."
said the huntsman, pointing to his dagger and
probably imagining himself still speaking to
his foe.

Nicholas, not stopping to talk to the man,
asked his sister and Petya to wait for him and
rode to the spot where the enemy's, Ildgin's,
hunting party was.

The victorious huntsman rode off to join the
field, and there, surrounded by inquiring sym-
pathizers, recounted his exploits.

The facts were that Ildgin, with whom the
Rostovs had a quarrel and were at law, hunted
over places that belonged bv custom to the Ros-
tovs, and had now, as if purposely, sent his men
to the very woods the Rost6vs were hunting
and let his man snatch a fox their dogs had
chased.

Nicholas, though he had never seen Ildgin,
with his usual absence of moderation in judg-
ment, hated him cordially from reports of his
arbitrariness and violence, and regarded him
as his bitterest foe. He rode in angry agitation
toward him, firmly grasping his whip and ful-
ly prepared to take the most resolute and des-
perate steps to punish his enemy.

Hardly had he passed an angle of the wood
before a stout gentleman in a beaver cap came
riding toward him on a handsome raven-black
horse, accompanied by two hunt servants.

Instead of an enemy, Nicholas found in Ild-
gin a stately and courteous gentleman who was
particularly anxious to make the young count's
acquaintance. Having ridden up to Nicholas,
Ildgin raised his beaver cap and said he much
regretted what had occurred and would have
the man punished who had allowed himself to
seize a fox hunted by someone else's borzois.
He hoped to become better acquainted with
the count and invited him to draw his covert.



BOOK SEVEN



285



Natdsha, afraid that her brother would do
something dreadful, had followed him in some
excitement. Seeing the enemies exchanging
friendly greetings, she rode up to them. Ilagin
lifted his beaver cap still higher to Natasha
and said, with a pleasant smile, that the young
countess resembled Diana in her passion for
the chase as well as in her beauty, of which he
had heard much.

To expiate his huntsman's offense, Ilagin
pressed the Rost6vs to come to an upland of
his about a mile away which he usually kept for
himself and which, he said, swarmed with hares.
Nicholas agreed, and the hunt, now doubled,
moved on.

The way to Ilagin's upland was across the
fields. The hunt servants fell into line. The
masters rode together. "Uncle," Rost6v, and
Ilagin kept stealthily glancing at one another's
dogs, trying not to be observed by their com-
panions and searching uneasily for rivals to
their own borzois.

Rost6v was particularly struck by the beauty
of a small, pure-bred, red-spotted bitch on Il-
agin's leash, slender but with muscles like steel,
a delicate muzzle, and prominent black eyes.
He had heard of the swiftness of Ilagin's bor-
zois, and in that beautiful bitch saw a rival to
his own Milka.

In the middle of a sober conversation begun
by Ilagin about the year's harvest, Nicholas
pointed to the red-spotted bitch.

"A fine little bitch, that!" said he in a care-
less tone. "Is she swift?"

"That one? Yes, she's a good dog, gets what
she's after," answered Ilagin indifferently, of
the red-spotted bitch Erza, for which, a year
before, he had given a neighbor three families
of house serfs. "So in your parts, too, the har-
vest is nothing to boast of, Count?" he went
on, continuing the conversation they had be-
gun. And considering it polite to return the
young count's compliment, Ilagin looked at
his borzois and picked out Mflka who attract-
ed his attention by her breadth. "That black-
spotted one of yours is finewell shaped!"
said he.

"Yes, she's fast enough," replied Nicholas,
and thought: "If only a full-grown hare would
cross the field now I'd show you what sort of
borzoi she is, M and turning to his groom, he
said he would give a ruble to anyone who found
a hare.

"I don't understand," continued Ilagin,
"how some sportsmen can be so jealous about
game and dogs. For myself, I can tell you,



Count, I enjoy riding in company such as this
. . . what could be better?" (he again raised his
cap to Natasha) "but as for counting skins
and what one takes, I don't care about that."

"Of course not!"

"Or being upset because someone else's bor-
zoi and not mine catches something. All I care
about is to enjoy seeing the chase, is it not so,
Count? For I consider that . . ."

"A-tu!" came the long-drawn cry of one of
the borzoi whippers-in, who had halted. He
stood on a knoll in the stubble, holding his
whip aloft, and again repeated his long-drawn
cry, "A-tu!" (This call and the uplifted whip
meant that he saw a sitting hare.)

"Ah, he has found one, I think," said Ilagin
carelessly. "Well, let us course it, Count."

"Yes, we must ride up. . . . Shall we both
course it?" answered Nicholas, seeing in Erzd
and "Uncle's" red Rugay two rivals he had nev-
er yet had a chance of pitting against his own
borzois. "And suppose they outdo my Milka at
once!" he thought as he rode with "Uncle" and
Ildgin toward the hare.

"A full-grown one?" asked Ilagin as he ap-
proached the whip who had sighted the hare
and not without agitation he looked round and
whistled to Erza.

"And you, Michael Nikan6rovich?" he said,
addressing "Uncle."

The latter was riding with a sullen expres-
sion on his face.

"How can I join in? Why, you've given a vil-
lage for each of your borzois! That's it, come
on! Yours are worth thousands. Try yours a-
gainst one another, you two, and I'll look on!"

"Rugay, hey, hey!" he shouted. "Rugiyush-
kal" he added, involuntarily by this diminutive
expressing his affection and the hopes he placed
on this red borzoi. Natasha saw and felt the agi-
tation the two elderly men and her brother
were trying to conceal, and was herself excited
by it.

The huntsman stood halfway up the knoll
holding up his whip and the gentlefolk rode
up to him at a footpace; the hounds that were
far off on the horizon turned away from the
hare, and the whips, but not the gentlefolk, al-
so moved away. All were moving slowly and
sedately.

"How is it pointing?" asked Nicholas, rid-
ing a hundred paces toward the whip who had
sighted the hare.

But before the whip could reply, the hare,
scenting the frost coming next morning, was
unable to rest and leaped up. The pack on



286



WAR AND PEACE



leash rushed downhill in full cry after the hare,
and from all sides the borzois that were not
on leash darted after the hounds and the hare.
All the hunt, who had been moving slowly,
shouted, "Stop!" calling in the hounds, while
the borzoi whips, with a cry of "A-tu!" galloped
across the field, setting the borzois on the hare.
The tranquil Ildgin, Nicholas, Natdsha, and
"Uncle" flew, reckless of where and how they
went, seeing only the borzois and the hare and
fearing only to lose sight even for an instant of
the chase. The hare they had started was a
strong and swift one. When he jumped up he
did not run at once, but pricked his ears listen-
ing to the shouting and trampling that resound-
ed from all sides at once. He took a dozen
bounds, not very quickly, letting the borzois
gain on him, and, finally having chosen his di-
rection and realized his danger, laid back his
ears and rushed off headlong. He had been ly-
ing in the stubble, but in front of him was the
autumn sowing where the ground was soft.
The two borzois of the huntsman who had
sighted him, having been the nearest, were the
first to see and pursue him, but they had not
gone far before login's red-spotted Erzd passed
them, got within a length, flew at the hare with
terrible swiftness aiming at his scut, and, think-
ing she had seized him, rolled over like a ball.
The hare arched his back and bounded off yet
more swiftly. From behind Erzd rushed the
broad-haunched, black-spotted Milka and be-
gan rapidly gaining on the hare.

"Mildshka, dear!" rose Nicholas* trium-
phant cry. It looked as if Milka would immedi-
ately pounce on the hare, but she overtook him
and flew past. The hare had squatted. Again
the beautiful Erzd reached him, but when close
to the hare's scut paused as if measuring the
distance, so as not to make a mistake this time
but seize his hind leg.

"Erzd, darling!" Ildgin wailed in a voice un-
like his own. Erza did not hearken to his ap-
peal. At the very moment when she would have
seized her prey, the hare moved and darted
along the balk between the winter rye and the
stubble. Again Erza and Mflka were abreast,
running like a pair of carriage horses, and be-
gan to overtake the hare, but it was easier for
the hare to run on the balk and the borzois did
not overtake him so quickly.

"Rugay, Rugdyushka! That's it, come on!"
came a third voice just then, and "Uncle's" red
borzoi, straining and curving its back, caught
up with the two foremost borzois, pushed
ahead of them regardless of the terrible strain,



put on speed close to the hare, knocked it off
the balk onto the ryefield, again put on speed
still more viciously, sinking to his knees in the
muddy field, and all one could see was how,
muddying his back, he rolled over with the
hare. A ring of borzois surrounded him. A mo-
ment later everyone had drawn up round the
crowd of dogs. Only the delighted "Uncle" dis-
mounted, and cut off a pad, shaking the hare
for the blood to drip off, and anxiously glanc-
ing round with restless eyes while his arms
and legs twitched. He spoke without himself
knowing whom to or what about. "That's it,
come on! That's a dog! . . . There, it has beat-
en them all, the thousand-ruble as well as the
one-ruble borzois. That's it, come on!" said he,
panting and looking wrathfully around as if
he were abusing someone, as if they were all
his enemies and had insulted him, and only
now had he at last succeeded in justifying him-
self. "There are your thousand-ruble ones. . . .
That's it, come on! . . ."

"Rugay, here's a pad for you I "he said, throw-
ing down the hare's muddy pad. "You've de-
served it, that's it, come on!"

"She'd tired herself out, she'd run it down
three times by herself," said Nicholas, also not
listening to anyone and regardless of whether
he were heard or not.

"But what is there in running across it like
that?" said Ilagin's groom.

"Once she had missed it and turned it away,
any mongrel could take it," ILigin was saying
at the same time, breathless from his gallop and
his excitement. At the same moment Nauisha,
without drawing breath, screamed joyously, ec-
statically, and so piercingly that it set every-
one's ear tingling. By that shriek she expressed
what the others expressed by all talkingat once,
and it was so strange that she must herself have
been ashamed of so wild a cry and everyone else
would have been amazed at it at any other time.
"Uncle" himself twisted up the hare, threw it
neatly and smartly across his horse's back as if
by that gesture he meant to rebuke everybody,
and, with an air of not wishing to speak to any-
one, mounted his bay and rode off. The others
all followed, dispirited and shamefaced, and
only much later were they able to regain their
former affectation of indifference. For a long
time they continued to look at red Rugay who,
his arched back spattered with mud and clank-
ing the ring of his leash, walked along just be-
hind "Uncle's" horse with the serene air of a
conqueror.

"Well, I am like any other dog as long as it's



BOOK SEVEN



287



not a question of coursing. But when it is, then
look out!" his appearance seem to Nicholas to
be saying.

When, much later, "Uncle" rode up to Nich-
olas and began talking to him, he felt flattered
that, after what had happened, "Uncle"
deigned to speak to him.

CHAPTER VII

TOWARD EVENING Ilagin took leave of Nicholas,
who found that they were so far from home
that he accepted "Uncle's" offer that the hunt-
ing party should spend the night in his little
village of Mikhaylovna.

"And if you put up at my house that will be
better stilL That's it, come onl" said "Uncle."
"You see it's damp weather, and you could
rest, and the little countess could be driven
home in a trap."

"Uncle's" offer was accepted. A huntsman
was sent to Otradnoe for a trap, while Nicho-
las rode with Natdsha and Ptya to "Uncle's"
house.

Some five male domestic serfs, big and little,
rushed out to the front porch to meet their
master. A score of women serfs, old and young,
as well as children, popped out from the back
entrance to have a look at the hunters who
were arriving. The presenceof Natasha a worn-
an, a lady, and on horseback raised the curi-
osity of the serfs to such a degree that many of
them came up to her, stared her in the face,
and unabashed by her presence made remarks
about her as though she were some prodigy on
show and not a human being able to hear or
understand what was said about her.

"Arfnka! Look, she sits sideways! There she
sits and her skirt dangles. . . . See, she's got a
little hunting horn!"

"Goodness gracious! See her knife? . . ."

"Isn't she a Tartar!"

"How is it you didn't go head over heels?"
asked the boldest of all, addressing Natdsha
directly.

"Uncle" dismounted at the porch of his lit-
tle wooden house which stood in the midst of
an overgrown garden and, after a glance at
his retainers, shouted authoritatively that the
superfluous ones should take themselves off and
that all necessary preparations should be made
to receive the guests and the visitors.

The serfs all dispersed. "Uncle" lifted Na-
tdsha off her horse and taking her hand led her
up the rickety wooden steps of the porch. The
house, with its bare, unplastered log walls, was
not overclean it did not seem that those liv-



ing in it aimed at keeping it spotless but nei-
ther was it noticeably neglected. In the entry
there was a smell of fresh apples, and wolf and
fox skins hung about.

"Uncle" led the visitors through the ante-
room into a small hall with a folding table and
red chairs, then into the drawing room with a
round birchwood table and a sofa, and finally
into his private room where there was a tattered
sofa, a worn carpet, and portraits of Suv6rov,
of the host's father and mother, and of himself
in military uniform. The study smelt strongly
of tobacco and dogs. "Uncle" asked his visitors
to sit down and make themselves at home, and
then went out of the room. Rugay, his back still
muddy, came into the room and lay down on
the sofa, cleaning himself with his tongue and
teeth. Leading from the study was a passage in
which a partition with ragged curtains could
be seen. From behind this came women's laugh-
ter and whispers. Natasha, Nicholas, and PeHya
took off their wraps and sat down on the sofa.
PC* tya, leaning on his elbow, fell asleep at once.
Natasha and Nicholas were silent. Their faces
glowed, they were hungry and very cheerful.
They looked at one another (now that the
hunt was over and they were in the house,
Nicholas no longer considered it necessary to
show his manly superiority over his sister), Na-
tdsha gave him a wink, and neither refrained
long from bursting into a peal of ringinglaugh-
ter even before they had a pretext ready to ac-
count for it.

After a while "Uncle" came in, in a Cossack
coat, blue trousers, and small top boots. And
Natasha felt that this costume, the very one
she had regarded with surprise and amusement
at Otrddnoe, was just the right thing and not
at all worse than a swallow-tail or frock coat.
"Uncle" too was in high spirits and far from
being offended by the brother's and sister's
laughter (it could never enter his head that
they might be laughing at his way of life) he
himself joined in the merriment.

"That's right, young countess, that's it, come
on! I never saw anyone like her!" said he, offer-
ing Nicholas a pipe with a long stem and, with
a practiced motion of three fingers, taking
down another that had been cut short. "She's
ridden all day like a man, and is as fresh as
ever!"

Soon after "Uncle's" reappearance the door
was opened, evidently from the sound by a
barefooted girl, and a stout, rosy, good-looking
woman of about forty, with a double chin and
full red lips, entered carrying a large loaded



288



WAR AND PEACE



tray. With hospitable dignity and cordiality in
her glance and in every motion, she looked at
the visitors and, with a pleasant smile, bowed
respectfully. In spite of her exceptional stout-
ness, which caused her to protrude her chest
and stomach and throw back her head, this
woman (who was "Uncle's" housekeeper) trod
very lightly. She went to the table, set down
the tray, and with her plump white hands deft-
ly took from it the bottles and various hors
d'oeuvres and dishes and arranged them on
the table. When she had finished, she stepped
aside and stopped at the door with a smile on
her face. "Here I am. I am she! Now do you
understand 'Uncle'?" her expression said to
Rost6v. How could one help understanding?
Not only Nicholas, but even Natasha under-
stood the meaning of his puckered brow and
the happy complacent smile that slightly puck-
ered his lips when Anfsya Fedorovna entered.
On the tray was a bottle of herb wine, different
kinds of vodka, pickled mushrooms, rye cakes
made with buttermilk, honey in the comb, still
mead and sparkling mead, apples, nuts (raw
and roasted), and nut-and- honey sweets. After-
wards she brought a freshly roasted chicken,
ham, preserves made with honey, and preserves
made with sugar.

All this was the fruit of Anisya Fedorovna's
housekeeping, gathered and prepared by her.
The smell and taste of it all had a smack of
Anfsya Fedorovna herself: a savor of juiciness,
cleanliness, whiteness, and pleasant smiles.

"Take this, little Lady-Countess!" she kept
saying, as she offered Natdsha first one thing
and then another.

Natdsha ate of everything and thought she
had never seen or eaten such buttermilk cakes,
such aromatic jam, such honey-and-nut sweets,
or such a chicken anywhere. Anfsya Fedorovna
left the room.

After supper, over their cherry brandy, Ros-
t6v and "Uncle" talked of past and future
hunts, of Rugdy and Ildgin's dogs, while Na-
tdsha sat upright on the sofa and listened with
sparkling eyes. She tried several times to wake
Ptya that he might eat something, but he only
muttered incoherent words without waking
up. Natdsha felt so lighthearted and happy in
these novel surroundings that she only feared
the trap would come for her too soon. After a
casual pause, such as often occurs when re-
ceiving friends for the first time in one's own
house, "Uncle," answering a thought that was
in his visitors' minds, said:

"This, you see, is how I am finishing my days.



. . . Death will come. That's it, come onl Noth-
ing will remain. Then why harm anyone?"

"Uncle's" face was very significant and even
handsome as he said this. Involuntarily Ros-
tov recalled all the good he had heard about
him from his father and the neighbors.
Throughout the whole province "Uncle" had
the reputation of being the most honorable
and disinterested of cranks. They called him
in to decide family disputes, chose him as ex-
ecutor, confided secrets to him, elected him to
be a justice and to other posts; but he always
persistently refused public appointments, pass-
ing the autumn and spring in the fields on his
bay gelding, sitting at home in winter, and ly-
ing in his overgrown garden in summer.

"Why don't you enter the service, Uncle?"

"I did once, but gave it up. I am not fit for
it. That's it, come on! I can't make head or tail
of it. That's for youI haven't brains enough.
Now, hunting is another matter that's it, come
on! Open the door, there!" he shouted. "Why
have you shut it?"

The door at the end of the passage led to the
huntsmen's room, as they called the room for
the hunt servants.

There was a rapid patter of bare feet, and
an unseen hand opened the door into the hunts-
men's room, from which came the clear sounds
of a balaldyka on which someone, who was evi-
dently a master of the art, was playing. Natd-
sha had been listening to those strains forsome
time and now went out into the passage to
hear better.

"That's Mftka, my coachman. ... I have got
him a good balaldyka. I'm fond of it," said
"Uncle."

It was the custom for Mftka to play the bala-
ldyka in the huntsmen's room when "Uncle"
returned from the chase. "Uncle" was fond of
such music.

"How good! Really very good!" said Nich-
olas with some unintentional superciliousness,
as if ashamed to confess that the sounds pleased
him very much.

"Very good?" said Natdsha reproachfully,
noticing her brother's tone. "Not Very good'
it's simply delicious!"

Just as "Uncle's" pickled mushrooms, honey,
and cherry brandy had seemed to her the best
in the world, so also that song, at that moment,
seemed to her the acme of musical delight.

"More, please, morel" cried Natdsha at the
door as soon as the balaldyka ceased. Mftka
tuned up afresh, and recommenced thrum-
ming the balaldyka to the air of My Lady, with



BOOK SEVEN



289



trills and variations. "Uncle" sat listening,
slightly smiling, with his head on one side. The
air was repeated a hundred times. The balalay-
ka was retuned several times and the same notes
were thrummed again, but the listeners did
not grow weary of it and wished to hear it again
and again. Anisya Fedorovna came in and
leaned her portly person against the doorpost.

"You like listening?" she said to Natasha,
with a smile extremely like "Uncle's." "That's
a good player of ours," she added.

"He doesn't play that part rightl" said "Un-
cle" suddenly, with an energetic gesture. "Here
he ought to burst out that's it, come on ! ought
to burst out."

"Do you play then?" asked Natasha.

"Uncle" did not answer, but smiled.

"Anisya, go and see if the strings of my gui-
tar are all right. I haven't touched it for a long
time. That's it come on! I've given it up."

Anfsya Fedorovna, with her light step, will-
ingly went to fulfill her errand and brought
back the guitar.