战争与和平(上)-第183章

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he　name　of　Bolkonsky　belonged　to　a　far…away；　romantic　past；　when；　after　supper　and　Natasha’s　singing；　hardly　knowing　what　he　was　doing；　he　had　made　an　offer　to　the　girl　of　fifteen。　He　smiled　at　the　recollection　of　that　time　and　his　love　for　Natasha；　and　passed　at　once　to　what　he　was　just　now　intensely　and　exclusively　interested　in。　This　was　a　plan　of　campaign　he　had　formed　while　on　duty　at　the　outposts　during　the　retreat。　He　had　laid　the　plan　before　Barclay　de　Tolly；　and　now　intended　to　lay　it　before　Kutuzov。　The　plan　was　based　on　the　fact　that　the　line　of　the　French　operations　was　too　extended；　and　on　the　suggestion　that；　instead　of　or　along　with　a　frontal　attack；　barring　the　advance　of　the　French；　attacks　should　be　made　on　their　communications。　He　began　explaining　his　plan　to　Prince　Andrey。
“They　are　not　able　to　defend　all　that　line；　it’s　impossible。　I’ll　undertake　to　break　through　them。　Give　me　five　hundred　men　and　I　would　cut　their　communications；　that’s　certain！　The　one　system　to　adopt　is　partisan　warfare。”
Denisov　got　up　and　began　with　gesticulations　to　explain　his　plans　to　Bolkonsky。　In　the　middle　of　his　exposition　they　heard　the　shouts　of　the　army；　mingling　with　music；　and　song；　and　apparently　coming　from　detached　groups　scattered　over　a　distance。　From　the　village　came　cheers　and　the　tramp　of　horses’　hoofs。
“Himself　is　coming；”　shouted　the　Cossack；　who　stood　at　the　gate；　“he’s　coming！”
Bolkonsky　and　Denisov　moved　up　to　the　gate；　where　there　stood　a　knot　of　soldiers　（a　guard　of　honour）；　and　they　saw　Kutuzov　coming　down　the　street　mounted　on　a　low　bay　horse。　An　immense　suite　of　generals　followed　him。　Barclay　rode　almost　beside　him；　a　crowd　of　officers　was　running　behind　and　around　them　shouting　“hurrah！”
His　adjutants　galloped　into　the　yard　before　him。　Kutuzov　impatiently　kicked　his　horse；　which　ambled　along　slowly　under　his　weight；　and　continually　nodded　his　head　and　put　his　hand　up　to　his　white　horse…guard’s　cap；　with　a　red　band　and　no　peak。　When　he　reached　the　guard　of　honour；　a　set　of　stalwart　grenadiers；　mostly　cavalry　men；　saluting　him；　he　looked　at　them　for　a　minute　in　silence；　with　the　intent；　unflinching　gaze　of　a　man　used　to　command；　then　he　turned　to　the　group　of　generals　and　officers　standing　round　him。　His　face　suddenly　wore　a　subtle　expression；　he　shrugged　his　shoulders　with　an　air　of　perplexity。　“And　with　fellows　like　that　retreat　and　retreat！”　he　said。　“Well；　good…bye；　general；”　he　added；　and　spurred　his　horse　into　the　gateway　by　Prince　Andrey　and　Denisov。
“Hurrah！　hurrah！　hurrah！”　rang　out　shouts　behind　him。
Since　Prince　Andrey　had　seen　him　last　Kutuzov　had　grown　stouter　and　more　corpulent　than　ever；　he　seemed　swimming　in　fat。　But　the　familiar　scar；　and　the　white　eye；　and　the　expression　of　weariness　in　his　face　and　figure　were　unchanged。　He　was　wearing　a　white　horse…guard’s　cap　and　a　military　coat；　and　a　whip　on　a　narrow　strap　was　slung　over　his　shoulder。　He　sat　heavily　swaying　on　his　sturdy　horse。
“Fugh！　…　fugh！　…　fugh！　…”　he　whistled；　hardly　audibly；　as　he　rode　into　the　courtyard。　His　face　expressed　the　relief　of　a　man　who　looks　forward　to　resting　after　a　performance。　He　drew　his　left　foot　out　of　the　stirrup；　and　with　a　lurch　of　his　whole　person；　frowning　with　the　effort；　brought　it　up　to　the　saddle；　leaned　on　his　knee；　and　with　a　groan　let　himself　drop　into　the　arms　of　the　Cossacks　and　adjutants；　who　stood　ready　to　support　him。
He　pulled　himself　together；　looked　round　with　half…shut　eyes；　glanced　at　Prince　Andrey；　and　evidently　not　recognising　him；　moved　with　his　shambling　gait　towards　the　steps。
“Fugh！　…　fugh！　…　fugh！”　he　whistled；　and　again　looked　round　at　Prince　Andrey。　As　is　often　the　case　with　the　aged；　the　impression　of　Prince　Andrey’s　face　did　not　at　once　call　up　the　memory　of　his　personality。　“Ah；　how　are　you；　how　are　you；　my　dear　boy；　come　along　…”　he　said　wearily；　and　walked　heavily　up　the　steps　that　creaked　under　his　weight。　He　unbuttoned　his　coat　and　sat　down　on　the　seat　in　the　porch。
“Well；　how’s　your　father？”
“The　news　of　his　death　reached　me　yesterday；”　said　Prince　Andrey　briefly。
Kutuzov　looked　at　him　with　his　eye　opened　wide　with　dismay；　then　he　took　off　his　cap；　and　crossed　himself。　“The　peace　of　heaven　be　with　him！　And　may　God’s　will　be　done　with　all　of　us！”　He　heaved　a　heavy　sigh　and　paused。　“I　loved　him　deeply　and　respected　him；　and　I　feel　for　you　with　all　my　heart。”　He　embraced　Prince　Andrey；　pressed　him　to　his　fat　breast；　and　for　some　time　did　not　let　him　go。　When　he　released　him　Prince　Andrey　saw　that　Kutuzov’s　thick　lips　were　quivering　and　there　were　tears　in　his　eye。　He　sighed　and　pressed　his　hands　on　the　seat　to　help　himself　in　rising　from　it。
“Come　in；　come　in；　we’ll　have　a　chat；”　he　said；　but　at　that　moment　Denisov；　who　stood　as　little　in　dread　of　the　authorities　as　he　did　of　the　enemy；　walked　boldly　up；　his　spurs　clanking　on　the　steps；　regardless　of　the　indignant　whispers　of　the　adjutants；　who　tried　to　prevent　him。　Kutuzov；　his　hands　still　pressed　on　the　seat　to　help　him　up；　looked　ruefully　at　Denisov。　Denisov；　mentioning　his　name；　announced　that　he　had　to　communicate　to　his　highness　a　matter　of　great　importance　for　the　welfare　of　Russia。　Kutuzov　bent　his　weary　eyes　on　Denisov；　and；　lifting　his　hands　with　a　gesture　of　annoyance；　folded　them　across　his　stomach；　and　repeated；　“For　the　welfare　of　Russia？　Well；　what　is　it？　Speak。”　Denisov　blushed　like　a　girl　（it　was　strange　to　see　the　colour　come　on　that　hirsute；　time…worn；　hard…drinking　face）；　and　began　boldly　explaining　his　plan　for　cutting　the　enemy’s　line　between　Smolensk　and　Vyazma。　Denisov’s　home　was　in　that　region；　and　he　knew　the　country　well。　His　plan　seemed　unquestionably　a　good　one；　especially　with　the　energy　of　conviction　that　was　in　his　words。　Kutuzov　stared　at　his　own　feet；　and　occasionally　looked　round　towards　the　yard　of　the　next　cottage；　as　though　he　were　expecting　something　unpleasant　to　come　from　it。　From　the　cottage　there　did　in　fact　emerge；　during　Denisov’s　speech；　a　general　with　a　portfolio　under　his　arm。
“Eh？”　Kutuzov　inquired　in　the　middle　of　Denisov’s　exposition；　“are　you　ready　now？”
“Yes；　your　highness；”　said　the　general。　Kutuzov　shook　his　head　with　an　air　that　seemed　to　say；　“How　is　one　man　to　get　through　it　all？”　and　gave　his　attention　again　to　Denisov。
“I　give　you　my　word　of　honour　as　a　Russian　officer；”　Denisov　was　saying；　“that　I　will　cut　Napoleon’s　communications。”
“Is　Kirill　Andreivitch　Denisov；　the　ober…intendant；　any　relation　of　yours？”　Kutuzov　interposed。
“My　uncle；　your　highness。”
“Oh！　we　used　to　be　friends；”　said　Kutuzov；　more　cheerily。　“Very　good；　very　good；　my　dear　boy；　you　stay　here　on　the　staff；　we’ll　have　a　talk　to…morrow。”　Nodding　to　Denisov；　he　turned　away　and　put　out　his　hand　for　the　papers　Konovnitsyn　had　brought　him。
“Will　not　your　highness　be　pleased　to　walk　into　the　house？”　said　the　general　on　duty　in　a　discontented　voice；　“it’s　necessary　to　look　through　the　plans　and　to　sign　some　papers。”　An　adjutant　appeared　at　the　door　to　announce　that　everything　was　in　readiness　within。　But　apparently　Kutuzov　preferred　to　be　rid　of　business　before　going　indoors。　He　paused　…
“No；　have　a　table　placed　here；　my　dear　boy；　I’ll　look　through　them　here；”　he　said。　“Don’t　you　go　away；”　he　added；　addressing　Prince　Andrey。　Prince　Andrey　remained　in　the　porch　listening　to　the　general　on　duty。
While　the　latter　was　presenting　his　report　Prince　Andrey　heard　the　whisper　of　a　woman’s　voice　and　the　rustle　of　a　woman’s　silk　dress　at　the　door。　Several　times　glancing　in　that　direction　he　noticed　behind　the　door　a　plump；　rosy…faced；　good…looking　woman　in　a　pink　dress　with　a　lilac　silk　kerchief　on　her　head。　She　had　a　dish　in　her　hand　and　was　apparently　waiting　for　the　commander…in…chief　to　enter。　Kutuzov’s　adjutant　explained　to　Prince　Andrey　in　a　whisper　that　this　was　the　priest’s　wife；　the　mistress　of　the　house；　who　intended　to　offer　his　highness　bread　and　salt；　the　emblems　of　welcome；　on　his　entrance。　Her　husband　had　met　his　highness　with　the　cross　in　church；　and　she　intended　to　welcome　him　to　the　house。…　“She’s　very　pretty；”　added　the　adjutant　with　a　smile。　Kutuzov　looked　round　at　the　words。　He　heard　the　general’s　report；　the　subject　of　which　was　chiefly　a　criticism　of　the　position　of　the　troops　before　Tsarevo…Zaimishtche；　just　as　he　had　heard　Denisov；　and　just　as；　seven　years　before；　he　had　heard　the　discussions　of　the　military　council　before　Austerlitz。　He　was　obviously　hearing　it　simply　because　he　had　ears；　and　although　one　of　them　was　stuffed　up　with　cotton…wool　they　could　not　help　hearing。　But　it　was　obvious　that　nothing　that　general　could　possibly　say　could　surprise　or　interest　him；　that　he　knew　beforehand　all　he　would　be　told；　and　listened　only　because　he　had　to　listen　to　it；　just　as　one　has　to　listen　to　the　litany　being　sung。　All　Denisov　had　said　was　practical　and　sensible。　What　the　general　was　saying　was　even　more　practical　and　sensible；　but　apparently　Kutuzov　despised　both　knowledge　and　intellect；　and　knew　of　something　else　that　would　settle　things—something　different；　quite　apart　from　intellect　and　knowledge。　Prince　Andrey　watched　the　commander…in…chief’s　face　attentively；　and　the　only　expression　he　could　detect　in　it　was　an　expression　of　boredom；　of　curiosity　to　know　the　meaning　of　the　feminine　whispering　at　the　door；　and　of　a　desire　to　observe　the　proprieties。　It　was　obvious　that　Kutuzov　despised　intellect　and　learning；　and　even　the　patriotic　feeling　Denisov　had　shown；　but　he　did　not　despise　them　through　intellect；　nor　through　sentiment；　nor　through　learning　（for　he　made　no　effort　to　display　anything　of　the　kind）；　he　despised　them　through　something　else—through　his　old　age；　through　his　experience　of　life。　The　only　instruction　of　his　own　that　Kutuzov　inserted　in　the　report　related　to　acts　of　marauding　by　Russian　troops。　The　general；　at　the　end　of　the　report；　presented　his　highness　a　document　for　signature　relating　to　a　petition　for　damages　from　a　landowner　for　the　cutting　of　his　oats　by　certain　officers。
Kutuzov　smacked　his　lips　together　and　shook　his　head；　as　he　listened　to　the　matter。
“Into　the　stove　…　into　the　fire　with　it！　And　I　tell　you　once　for　all；　my　dear　fellow；”　he　said；　“all　such　things　put　into　the　fire。　Let　them　cut　the　corn　and　burn　the　wood　to　their　heart’s　content。　It’s　not　by　my　orders　and　it’s　not　with　my　permission；　but　I　can’t　pursue　the　matter。　It　can’t　be　helped。　You　can’t　hew　down　trees　without　the　chips　flying。”　He　glanced　once　more　at　the　paper。　“Oh；　this　German　preciseness；”　he　commented；　shaking　his　head。


Chapter　16
“WELL；　now；　that’s　all；”　said　Kutuzov；　as　he　signed　the　last　paper；　and　rising　clumsily；　and　straightening　his　fat；　white　neck；　he　went　to　the　door　with　a　more　cheerful　countenance。
The　priest’s　wife；　with　the　colour　rushing　to　her　face；　snatched　up　the　dish；　and　though　she　had　been　so　long　preparing；　she　did　not　succeed　in　presenting　it　at　the　right　moment。　With　a　low　bow　she　offered　it　to　Kutuzov。　Kutuzov　screwed　up　his　eyes。　He　smiled；　chucked　her　under　the　chin；　and　said：
“And　what　a　pretty　face！　Thank　you；　my　dear！”
He　took　some　gold　coins　out　of　his　trouser　pocket；　and　put　them　on　the　dish。　“Well；　and　how　are　we　getting　o