战争与和平(上)-第13章

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ight　suppose　I　should　…　I　understand；　I　quite　understand。　I　shouldn’t　have　done　it；　I　shouldn’t　have　had　the　courage；　but　it’s　splendid。　I’m　very　glad　I　have　made　your　acquaintance。　A　queer　idea；”　he　added；　pausing　and　smiling；　“you　must　have　had　of　me。”　He　laughed。　“But　what　of　it？　Let　us　know　each　other　better；　please！”　He　pressed　Boris’s　hand。　“Do　you　know　I’ve　not　once　seen　the　count？　He　has　not　sent　for　me　…　I　am　sorry　for　him；　as　a　man　…　But　what　can　one　do？”
“And　so　you　think　Napoleon　will　succeed　in　getting　his　army　across？”　Boris　queried；　smiling。
Pierre　saw　that　Boris　was　trying　to　change　the　conversation；　and　so　he　began　explaining　the　advantages　and　difficulties　of　the　Boulogne　expedition。
A　footman　came　in　to　summon　Boris　to　the　princess。　The　princess　was　going。　Pierre　promised　to　come　to　dinner　in　order　to　see　more　of　Boris；　and　pressed　his　hand　warmly　at　parting；　looking　affectionately　into　his　face　over　his　spectacles。
When　he　had　gone；　Pierre　walked　for　some　time　longer　up　and　down　his　room；　not　thrusting　at　an　unseen　foe；　but　smiling　at　the　recollection　of　that　charming；　intelligent；　and　resolute　young　man。
As　so　often　happens　with　young　people；　especially　if　they　are　in　a　position　of　loneliness；　he　felt　an　unreasonable　tenderness　for　this　youth；　and　he　firmly　resolved　to　become　friends　with　him。
Prince　Vassily　accompanied　the　princess　to　the　hall。　The　princess　was　holding　her　handkerchief　to　her　eyes；　and　her　face　was　tearful。
“It　is　terrible；　terrible！”　she　said；　“but　whatever　it　costs　me；　I　will　do　my　duty。　I　will　come　to　stay　the　night。　He　can’t　be　left　like　this。　Every　minute　is　precious。　I　can’t　understand　why　his　nieces　put　it　off。　Maybe　God　will　help　me　to　find　a　way　to　prepare　him。　Adieu；　prince；　may　God　support　you　…”
“Adieu；　my　kind　friend；”　answered　Prince　Vassily；　turning　away　from　her。
“Oh；　he　is　in　an　awful　position！”　said　the　mother　to　her　son；　when　they　were　sitting　in　the　carriage　again。　“He　scarcely　knows　any　one。”
“I　don’t　understand；　mamma；　what　his　attitude　is　as　regards　Pierre。”
“The　will　will　make　all　that　plain；　my　dear；　our　fate；　too；　hangs　upon　it。…”
“But　what　makes　you　think　he　will　leave　us　anything？”
“Oh；　my　dear！　He　is　so　rich；　and　we　are　so　poor。”
“Well；　that’s　hardly　a　sufficient　reason；　mamma。”
“Oh；　my　God；　how　ill　he　is；　how　ill　he　is！”　cried　his　mother。


Chapter　14
WHEN　ANNA　MIHALOVNA　had　driven　off　with　her　son　to　Count　Kirill　Vladimirovitch　Bezuhov’s；　Countess　Rostov　sat　a　long　while　alone；　putting　her　handkerchief　to　her　eyes。　At　last　she　rang　the　bell。
“What　does　it　mean？”　she　said　angrily　to　the　maid；　who　had　kept　her　waiting　a　few　minutes；　“don’t　you　care　for　my　service；　eh？　I’ll　find　you　another　place；　if　so。”
The　countess　was　distressed　at　the　troubles　and　degrading　poverty　of　her　friend；　and　so　out　of　humour；　which　always　found　expression　in　such　remarks　to　her　servants。
“I’m　very　sorry；”　said　the　maid。
“Ask　the　count　to　come　to　me。”
The　count　came　waddling　in　to　see　his　wife；　looking；　as　usual；　rather　guilty。
“Well；　little　countess！　What　a　sauté　of　woodcocks　and　Madeira　we’re　to　have；　ma　chère！　I’ve　tried　it；　I　did　well　to　give　a　thousand　roubles　for　Taras。　He’s　worth　it！”
He　sat　down　by　his　wife；　setting　his　elbow　jauntily　on　his　knee；　and　ruffling　up　his　grey　hair。　“What　are　your　commands；　little　countess？”
“It’s　this；　my　dear—why；　what　is　this　mess　on　you　here？”　she　said；　pointing　to　his　waistcoat。　“It’s　the　sauté；　most　likely；”　she　added；　smiling。　“It’s　this；　my　dear；　I　want　some　money。”　Her　face　became　gloomy。
“Ah；　little　countess！　…”　And　the　count　fidgeted　about；　pulling　out　his　pocket…book。
“I　want　a　great　deal；　count。　I　want　five　hundred　roubles。”　And　taking　out　her　cambric　handkerchief　she　wiped　her　husband’s　waistcoat。
“This　minute；　this　minute。　Hey；　who’s　there？”　he　shouted；　as　men　only　shout　who　are　certain　that　those　they　call　will　run　headlong　at　their　summons。　“Send　Mitenka　to　me！”
Mitenka；　the　young　man　of　noble　family　who　had　been　brought　up　in　the　count’s　house；　and　now　had　charge　of　all　his　money　affairs；　walked　softly　into　the　room。
“Here；　my　dear　boy；”　said　the　count　to　the　young　man；　who　came　up　respectfully。　“Bring　me；”　he　thought　a　moment；　“yes；　seven　hundred　roubles；　yes。　And　mind；　don’t　bring　me　such　torn　and　dirty　notes　as　last　time；　nice　ones　now；　for　the　countess。”
“Yes；　Mitenka；　clean　ones；　please；”　said　the　countess　with　a　depressed　sigh。
“Your　excellency；　when　do　you　desire　me　to　get　the　money？”　said　Mitenka。　“Your　honour　ought　to　know　…　But　don’t　trouble；”　he　added；　noticing　that　the　count　was　beginning　to　breathe　rapidly　and　heavily；　which　was　always　the　sign　of　approaching　anger。　“I　was　forgetting　…　This　minute　do　you　desire　me　to　bring　them？”
“Yes；　yes；　just　so；　bring　them。　Give　them　to　the　countess。　What　a　treasure　that　Mitenka　is；”　added　the　count；　smiling；　when　the　young　man　had　gone　out。　“He　doesn’t　know　the　meaning　of　impossible。　That’s　a　thing　I　can’t　bear。　Everything’s　possible。”
“Ah；　money；　count；　money；　what　a　lot　of　sorrow　it　causes　in　the　world！”　said　the　countess。　“This　money　I　am　in　great　need　of。”
“You　are　a　terrible　spendthrift；　little　countess；　we　all　know；”　said　the　count；　and　kissing　his　wife’s　hand　he　went　away　again　to　his　own　room。
When　Anna　Mihalovna　came　back　from　the　Bezuhovs’；　the　money　was　already　on　the　countess’s　little　table；　all　in　new　notes；　under　her　pocket…handkerchief。　Anna　Mihalovna　noticed　that　the　countess　was　fluttered　about　something。
“Well；　my　dear？”　queried　the　countess。
“Ah；　he　is　in　a　terrible　condition！　One　would　not　recognise　him；　he　is　so　ill；　so　ill；　I　was　there　only　a　minute；　and　did　not　say　two　words。”
“Annette；　for　God’s　sake　don’t　refuse　me；”　the　countess　said　suddenly　with　a　blush；　which　was　strangely　incongruous　with　her　elderly；　thin；　and　dignified　face；　taking　the　money　from　under　her　handkerchief。　Anna　Mihalovna　instantly　grasped　the　situation；　and　was　already　bending　over　to　embrace　the　countess　at　the　appropriate　moment。
“This　is　for　Boris；　from　me；　for　his　equipment　…”
Anna　Mihalovna　was　already　embracing　her　and　weeping。　The　countess　wept　too。　They　wept　because　they　were　friends；　and　because　they　were　soft…hearted；　and　that　they；　who　had　been　friends　in　youth；　should　have　to　think　of　anything　so　base　as　money；　and　that　their　youth　was　over。…　But　the　tears　of　both　were　sweet　to　them。…


Chapter　15
COUNTESS　ROSTOV；　with　her　daughters　and　the　greater　number　of　the　guests；　was　sitting　in　the　drawing…room。　The　count　led　the　gentlemen　of　the　party　to　his　room；　calling　their　attention　to　his　connoisseur’s　collection　of　Turkish　pipes。　Now　and　then　he　went　out　and　inquired；　had　she　come　yet？　They　were　waiting　for　Marya　Dmitryevna　Ahrosimov；　known　in　society　as　le　terrible　dragon；　a　lady　who　owed　her　renown　not　to　her　wealth　or　her　rank；　but　to　her　mental　directness　and　her　open；　unconventional　behaviour。　Marya　Dmitryevna　was　known　to　the　imperial　family；　she　was　known　to　all　Moscow　and　all　Petersburg；　and　both　cities；　while　they　marvelled　at　her；　laughed　in　their　sleeves　at　her　rudeness；　and　told　good　stories　about　her；　nevertheless；　all　without　exception　respected　and　feared　her。
In　the　count’s　room；　full　of　smoke；　there　was　talk　of　the　war；　which　had　been　declared　in　a　manifesto；　and　of　the　levies　of　troops。　The　manifesto　no　one　had　yet　read；　but　every　one　knew　of　its　appearance。　The　count　was　sitting　on　an　ottoman　with　a　man　smoking　and　talking　on　each　side　of　him。　The　count　himself　was　neither　smoking　nor　talking；　but；　with　his　head　cocked　first　on　one　side　and　then　on　the　other；　gazed　with　evident　satisfaction　at　the　smokers；　and　listened　to　the　argument　he　had　got　up　between　his　two　neighbours。
One　of　these　two　was　a　civilian　with　a　thin；　wrinkled；　bilious；　close…shaven　face；　a　man　past　middle　age；　though　dressed　like　the　most　fashionable　young　man。　He　sat　with　his　leg　up　on　the　ottoman；　as　though　he　were　at　home；　and　with　the　amber　mouthpiece　in　the　side　of　his　mouth；　he　smoked　spasmodically；　puckering　up　his　face。　This　was　an　old　bachelor；　Shinshin；　a　cousin　of　the　countess’s；　famed　in　Moscow　drawing…rooms　for　his　biting　wit。　He　seemed　supercilious　in　his　manner　to　his　companion；　a　fresh；　rosy　officer　of　the　Guards；　irreproachably　washed　and　brushed　and　buttoned。　He　held　his　pipe　in　the　middle　of　his　mouth；　and　drawing　in　a　little　smoke；　sent　it　coiling　in　rings　out　of　his　fine　red　lips。　He　was　Lieutenant　Berg；　an　officer　in　the　Semenovsky　regiment　with　whom　Boris　was　to　go　away；　and　about　whom　Natasha　had　taunted　Vera；　calling　Berg　her　suitor。　The　count　sat　between　these　two　listening　intently　to　them。　The　count’s　favourite　entertainment；　next　to　playing　boston；　of　which　he　was　very　fond；　was　that　of　listening　to　conversation；　especially　when　he　had　succeeded　in　getting　up　a　dispute　between　two　talkative　friends。
“Come；　how　is　it；　mon　très　honorable　Alphonse　Karlitch；”　said　Shinshin；　chuckling；　and　using　a　combination　of　the　most　popular　Russian　colloquialisms　and　the　most　recherchès　French　expressions；　which　constituted　the　peculiarity　of　his　phraseology。　“You　reckon　you’ll　get　an　income　from　the　government；　and　you　want　to　get　a　little　something　from　your　company　too？”
“No；　Pyotr　Nikolaitch；　I　only　want　to　show　that　in　the　cavalry　the　advantages　are　few　as　compared　with　the　infantry。　Consider　my　position　now；　for　instance；　Pyotr　Nikolaitch。”　Berg　talked　very　precisely；　serenely；　and　politely。　All　he　said　was　always　concerning　himself。　He　always　maintained　a　serene　silence　when　any　subject　was　discussed　that　had　no　direct　bearing　on　himself。　And　he　could　be　silent　in　that　way　for　several　hours　at　a　time；　neither　experiencing　nor　causing　in　others　the　slightest　embarrassment。　But　as　soon　as　the　conversation　concerned　him　personally；　he　began　to　talk　at　length　and　with　visible　satisfaction。
“Consider　my　position；　Pyotr　Nikolaitch：　if　I　were　in　the　cavalry；　I　should　get　no　more　than　two　hundred　roubles　every　four　months；　even　at　the　rank　of　lieutenant；　while　as　it　is　I　get　two　hundred　and　thirty；”　he　explained　with　a　beaming；　friendly　smile；　looking　at　Shinshin　and　the　count　as　though　he　had　no　doubt　that　his　success　would　always　be　the　chief　goal　of　all　other　people’s　wishes。　“Besides　that；　Pyotr　Nikolaitch；　exchanging　into　the　Guards；　I’m　so　much　nearer　the　front；”　pursued　Berg；　“and　vacancies　occur　so　much　more　frequently　in　the　infantry　guards。　Then　you　can　fancy　how　well　I　can　manage　on　two　hundred　and　thirty　roubles。　Why；　I’m　putting　by　and　sending　some　off　to　my　father　too；”　he　pursued；　letting　off　a　ring　of　smoke。
“There　is　a　balance。　A　German　will　thrash　wheat　out　of　the　head　of　an　axe；　as　the　Russian　proverb　has　it；”　said　Shinshin；　shifting　his　pipe　to　the　other　side　of　his　mouth　and　winking　to　the　count。
The　count　chuckled。　The　other　visitors　seeing　that　Shinshin　was　talking　came　up　to　listen。　Berg；　without　perceiving　either　their　sneers　or　their　lack　of　interest；　proceeded　to　explain　how　by　exchanging　into　the　guards　he　had　already　gained　a　step　in　advance　of　his　old　comrades　in　the　corps；　how　in　war…time　the　commander　of　a　company　may　so　easily　be　killed；　and　he　as