战争与和平(上)-第184章

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“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　on？”　he　said；　going　towards　the　room　that　had　been　assigned　him。　The　priest’s　wife；　with　smiling　dimples　on　her　rosy　face；　followed　to　show　him　the　room。　The　adjutant　came　out　to　Prince　Andrey　in　the　porch；　and　invited　him　to　lunch。　Half　an　hour　later　Kutuzov　sent　for　Prince　Andrey。　He　was　reclining　in　a　low　chair；　still　in　the　same　unbuttoned　military　coat。　He　had　a　French　novel　in　his　hand；　and　at　Prince　Andrey’s　entrance　laid　a　paper…knife　in　it　and　put　it　aside。　It　was　Les　Chevaliers　du　Cygne；　a　work　by　Madame　de　Genlis；　as　Prince　Andrey　saw　by　the　cover。
“Well；　sit　down；　sit　down　here。　Let　us　have　a　little　talk；”　said　Kutuzov。　“It’s　sad；　very　sad。　But　remember；　my　dear；　think　of　me　as　a　father；　another　father；　to　you　…！”
Prince　Andrey　told　Kutuzov　all　he　knew　about　his　father’s　end；　and　what　he　had　seen　at　Bleak　Hills。
“To　think　what　we　have　been　brought　to！”　Kutuzov　cried　suddenly；　in　a　voice　full　of　feeling；　Prince　Andrey’s　story　evidently　bringing　vividly　before　him　the　position　of　Russia。
“Wait　a　bit；　wait　a　bit！”　he　added；　with　a　vindictive　look　in　his　face；　and　apparently　unwilling　to　continue　a　conversation　that　stirred　him　too　deeply；　he　said：
“I　sent　for　you　to　keep　you　with　me。”
“I　thank　your　highness！”　answered　Prince　Andrey；　“but　I　am　afraid　I　am　no　more　good　for　staff　work；”　he　said；　with　a　smile；　which　Kutuzov　noticed。　He　looked　at　him　inquiringly。　“And　the　great　thing　is；”　added　Prince　Andrey；　“I　am　used　to　my　regiment。　I　like　the　officers；　and　I　think　the　men　have　come　to　like　me。　I　should　be　sorry　to　leave　the　regiment。　If　I　decline　the　honour　of　being　in　attendance　on　you；　believe　me　…”
Kutuzov’s　podgy　face　beamed　with　a　shrewd；　good…natured；　and　yet　subtly　ironical　expression。　He　cut　Bolkonsky　short。
“I’m　sure　you　would　have　been　of　use　to　me。　But　you’re　right；　you’re　right。　It’s　not　here　that　we　want　men。　There　are　always　a　multitude　of　counsellors；　but　men　are　scarce。　The　regiments　wouldn’t　be　what　they　are　if　all　the　would…be　counsellors　would　serve　in　them　like　you。　I　remember　you　at　Austerlitz。　I　remember；　I　remember　you　with　the　flag！”　said　Kutuzov；　and　a　flush　of　pleasure　came　into　Prince　Andrey’s　face　at　this　reminiscence。　Kutuzov　held　out　his　hand　to　him；　offering　him　his　cheek　to　kiss；　and　again　Prince　Andrey　saw　tears　in　the　old　man’s　eye。　Though　Prince　Andrey　knew　Kutuzov’s　tears　were　apt　to　come　easily；　and　that　he　was　particularly　affectionate　and　tender　with　him　from　the　desire　to　show　sympathy　with　his　loss；　yet　he　felt　this　reminder　of　Austerlitz　agreeable　and　flattering。
“Go　your　own　way；　and　God　bless　you　in　it。　…　I　know　your　path　is　the　path　of　honour！”　He　paused。　“I　missed　you　at　Bucharest。　I　wanted　some　one　to　send　…”　And　changing　the　subject；　Kutuzov　began　talking　of　the　Turkish　war；　and　of　the　peace　that　had　been　concluded。　“Yes；　I　have　been　roundly　abused；”　he　said；　“both　for　the　war　and　the　peace　…　but　it　all　happened　in　the　nick　of　time。”　“　‘Everything　comes　in　time　for　him　who　knows　how　to　wait；’　”　he　said；　quoting　the　French　proverb。　“And　there　were　as　many　counsellors　there　as　here；　…”　he　went　on；　returning　to　the　superfluity　of　advisers；　a　subject　which　evidently　occupied　his　mind。　“Ugh；　counsellors　and　counsellors！”　he　said。　“If　we　had　listened　to　all　of　them；　we　should　be　in　Turkey　now。　We　should　not　have　made　peace；　and　the　war　would　never　have　been　over。　Always　in　haste；　and　more　haste；　worse　speed。　Kamensky　would　have　come　to　grief　there；　if　he　hadn’t　died。　He　went　storming　fortresses　with　thirty　thousand　men。　It’s　easy　enough　to　take　fortresses；　but　it’s　hard　to　finish　off　a　campaign　successfully。　Storms　and　attacks　are　not　what’s　wanted；　but　time　and　patience。　Kamensky　sent　his　soldiers　to　attack　Rustchuk；　but　I　trusted　to　them　alone—time　and　patience—and　I　took　more　fortresses　than　Kamensky；　and　made　the　Turks　eat　horseflesh！”　He　shook　his　head。　“And　the　French　shall；　too。　Take　my　word　for　it；”　cried　Kutuzov；　growing　warmer　and　slapping　himself　on　the　chest；　“I’ll　make　them　eat　horseflesh！”　And　again　his　eye　was　dim　with　tears。
“We　shall　have　to　give　battle；　though；　shan’t　we？”　said　Prince　Andrey。
“We　must；　if　every　one　wants　to；　there　is　no　help　for　it。…　But；　mark　my　words；　my　dear　boy！　The　strongest　of　all　warriors　are　these　two—time　and　patience。　They　do　it　all；　and　our　wise　counsellors　n’entendent　pas　de　cette　oreille；　voilà　le　mal。　Some　say　ay；　and　some　say　no。　What’s　one　to　do？”　he　asked；　evidently　expecting　a　reply。　“Come；　what　would　you　have　me　do？”　he　repeated；　and　his　eyes　twinkled　with　a　profound；　shrewd　expression。　“I’ll　tell　you　what　to　do；”　he　said；　since　Prince　Andrey　still　did　not　answer。　“I’ll　tell　you　what　to　do；　and　what　I　do。　Dans　le　doute；　mon　cher”—he　paused—“abstiens…toi。”　He　articulated　deliberately　the　French　saying。
“Well；　good…bye；　my　dear。　Remember；　with　all　my　heart；　I　feel　for　your　sorrow；　and　that　for　you　I’m　not　his　highness；　nor　prince；　nor　commander…in…chief；　but　simply　a　father　to　you。　If　you　want　anything；　come　straight　to　me。　Good…bye；　my　dear　boy！”　Again　he　embraced　and　kissed　him。
And　before　Prince　Andrey　had　closed　the　door；　Kutuzov　settled　himself　comfortably　with　a　sigh；　and　renewed　the　unfinished　novel　of　Madame　Genlis；　Les　Chevaliers　du　Cygne。
How；　and　why　it　was；　Prince　Andrey　could　not　explain；　but　after　this　interview　with　Kutuzov；　he　went　back　to　his　regiment　feeling　reassured　as　to　the　future　course　of　the　war；　and　as　to　the　man　to　whom　its　guidance　was　intrusted。　The　more　clearly　he　perceived　the　absence　of　everything　personal　in　the　old　leader；　who　seemed　to　have　nothing　left　of　his　own　but　habits　of　passions；　and　instead　of　an　intellect　grasping　events　and　making　plans；　had　only　the　capacity　for　the　calm　contemplation　of　the　course　of　events；　the　more　confident　he　felt　that　all　would　be　as　it　should　be。　“He　will　put　in　nothing　of　himself。　He　will　contrive　nothing；　will　undertake　nothing；”　thought　Prince　Andrey；　“but　he　will　hear　everything；　will　think　of　everything；　will　put　everything　in　its　place；　will　not　hinder　anything　that　could　be　of　use；　and　will　not　allow　anything　that　could　do　harm。　He　knows　that　there　is　something　stronger　and　more　important　than　his　will—that　is　the　inevitable　march　of　events；　and　he　can　see　them；　can　grasp　their　significance；　and；　seeing　their　significance；　can　abstain　from　meddling；　from　following　his　own　will；　and　aiming　at　something　else。　And　the　chief　reason；”　thought　Prince　Andrey；　“why　one　believes　in　him　is　that　he’s　Russian；　in　spite　of　Madame　Genlis’s　novel　and　the　French　proverbs；　that　his　voice　shook　when　he　said；　‘What　we　have　been　brought　to！’　and　that　he　choked　when　he　said　‘he　would　make　them　eat　horseflesh！’　”
It　was　this　feeling；　more　or　less　consciously　shared　by　all；　that　determined　the　unanimous　approval　given　to　the　appointment　of　Kutuzov　to　the　chief　command；　in　accordance　with　national　sentiment；　and　in　opposition　to　the　intrigues　at　court。


Chapter　17
AFTER　THE　TSAR　had　left　Moscow；　the　life　of　that　city　flowed　on　in　its　old　accustomed　channel；　and　the　current　of　that　life　ran　so　much　as　usual　that　it　was　difficult　to　remember　the　days　of　patriotic　fervour　and　enthusiasm；　and　hard　to　believe　that　Russia　actually　was　in　danger；　and　that　the　members　of　the　English　club　were　also　her　devoted　sons；　ready　to　make　any　sacrifice　for　her　sake。　The　one　thing　that　recalled　the　general　patriotic　fervour　of　the　days　of　the　Tsar’s　presence　in　Moscow　was　the　call　for　contributions　of　men　and　money；　and　these　demands　were　presented　at　once　in　a　legal；　official　form；　so　that　they　seemed　inevitable。　As　the　enemy　drew　nearer　to　Moscow　the　attitude　taken　by　its　inhabitants　in　regard　to　their　position　did　not　become　more　serious；　but；　on　the　contrary；　more　frivolous；　as　is　always　the　case　with　people　who　see　a　great　danger　approaching。　At　the　approach　of　danger　there　are　always　two　voices　that　speak　with　equal　force　in　the　heart　of　man：　one　very　reasonably　tells　the　man　to　consider　the　nature　of　the　danger　and　the　means　of　avoiding　it；　the　other　even　more　reasonably　says　that　it　is　too　painful　and　harassing　to　think　of　the　danger；　since　it　is　not　in　a　man’s　power　to　provide　for　everything　and　escape　from　the　general　march　of　events；　and　that　it　is　therefore　better　to　turn　aside　from　the　painful　subject　till　it　has　come；　and　to　think　of　what　is　pleasant。　In　solitude　a　man　generally　yields　to　the　first　voice；　in　society　to　the　second。　So　it　was　now　with　the　inhabitants　of　Moscow。　It　was　long　since　there　had　been　so　much　gaiety　in　Moscow　as　that　year。
Rastoptchin’s　posters；　with　a　print　at　the　top　of　a　gin…shop；　a　potman；　and　the　Moscow　artisan；　Karpushka　Tchigirin；　“who；　having　gone　into　the　militia；　heard　that　Bonaparte　meant　to　come　to　Moscow；　was　mightily　wroth　thereat；　used　very　bad　language　about　all　the　French；　came　out　of　the　gin…shop　and　began　to　address　the　people　assembled　under　the　eagles；”　were　as　much　read　and　discussed　as　the　last　bouts　rimés　of　Vassily　Lvovitch　Pushkin。
In　the　corner　room　of　the　club　the　members　gathered　together　to　read　these　posters；　and　some　liked　the　way　Karpushka　was　made　to　jeer　at　the　French；　saying　that　“they　would　be　blown　out　with　Russian　cabbage；　that　Russian　porridge　would　rip　their　guts　open；　and　cabbage　soup　would　finish　them　off；　that　they　were　all　dwarfs；　and　a　village　lass　could　toss　three　of　them　on　her　pitchfork　single…handed！”
Some　people　did　not　approve　of　this　tone；　and　said　it　was　vulgar　and　stupid。　People　said　that　Rastoptchin　had　sent　all　Frenchmen；　and　even　foreigners；　out　of　Moscow；　and　that　there　had　been　spies　and　agents　of　Napoleon　among　them。　But　they　talked　of　this　principally　in　order　to　repeat　the　witticisms　uttered　by　Rastoptchin　on　the　occasion。　The　foreigners　had　been　put　on　a　barque　sailing　to　Nizhny；　and　Rastoptchin　had　said　to　them：　“Keep　yourselves　to　yourselves；　get　into　the　barque；　and　take　care　it　does　not　become　the　barque　of　Charon　to　you。”　People　talked　too　of　all　the　government　offices　having　been　removed　from　Moscow；　and　added　Shinshin’s　joke；　that　for　that　alone　Moscow　ought　to　be　grateful　to　Napoleon。　People　said　that　Mamonov’s　regiment　was　costing　him　eight　hundred　thousand；　that　Bezuhov　was　spending　even　more　on　his；　but　that　the　noblest　proof　of　Bezuhov’s　patriotism　was　that　he　was　going　to　put　on　the　uniform　himself　and　ride　at　the　head　of　his　regiment；　without　any　charge　for　seats　to　spectators。
“You　have　no　mercy　on　any　one；”　said　Julie　Drubetskoy；　gathering　up　a　pinch　of　scraped　lint　in　her　slender　fingers　covered　with　rings。
Julie　was　intending　to　leave　Moscow　next　day；　and　was　giving　a　farewell　soirée。
“Bezuhov　est　ridicule；　but　he　is　so　good…natured；　so　nice；　how　can　you　take　pleasure　in　being　so　caustique？”
“Forfeit！”　said　a　young　man　in　a　volunteer’s　uniform；　whom　Julie　called　“mon　chevalier；”　and　was　taking　with　her　to　Nizhny。
In　Julie’s　circle；　as　in　many　circles　in　Moscow；　it　was　a　principle　now　to　speak　nothing　but　Russian；　and　those　who　made　a　mistake　by　speaking　French　had　to　pay　a　forfeit　fo