战争与和平(上)-第212章

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On　waking　up　that　morning　Count　Ilya　Andreitch　slipped　quietly　out　of　his　bedroom；　so　as　not　to　wake　his　wife；　who　had　been　awake　till　morning；　and　in　his　lilac　silk　dressing…gown　he　came　out　on　to　the　steps。　The　loaded　waggons　were　standing　in　the　courtyard。　The　carriages　were　drawn　up　at　the　steps。　The　butler　was　standing　in　the　entrance　talking　with　an　old　orderly　and　a　pale　young　officer　with　his　arm　in　a　sling。　The　butler；　seeing　his　master；　made　a　significant　and　peremptory　sign　to　them　both　to　retire。
“Well；　is　everything　ready；　Vassilitch？”　said　the　count；　rubbing　his　bald　head；　and　looking　benignly　at　the　officer　and　the　orderly；　he　nodded　to　them。　（The　count　was　always　attracted　by　new　faces。）
“Ready　to　put　the　horses　in　immediately；　your　excellency。”
“Well；　that’s　capital；　the　countess　will　soon　be　awake；　and；　please　God；　we　set　off！　What　can　I　do　for　you；　sir？”　he　said；　addressing　the　officer。　“You　are　staying　in　my　house？”
The　officer　came　closer。　His　pale　face　suddenly　flushed　crimson。
“Count；　do　me　a　great　favour；　allow　me　…　for　God’s　sake　…　to　get　into　one　of　your　waggons。　I　have　nothing　here　with　me　…　I　can　go　quite　well　with　the　luggage　…”
Before　the　officer　finished　speaking；　the　orderly　came　up　to　make　the　same　request　for　his　master。
“Oh！　yes；　yes；　yes；”　said　the　count　hurriedly。　“I　shall　be　very　glad　indeed。　Vassilitch；　you　see　to　it；　you　have　a　waggon　or　two　cleared；　well　…　well　…　what’s　needed　…？”　The　count　murmured　some　vague　orders。　But　the　glowing　look　of　gratitude　on　the　officer’s　face　instantly　put　the　seal　on　the　order。　The　count　looked　about　him；　everywhere　in　the　yard；　at　the　gates；　at　the　windows　of　the　lodge—he　saw　wounded　men　and　orderlies。　They　were　all　gazing　at　him　and　moving　up　towards　the　steps。
“Will　you　please　walk　into　the　gallery；　your　excellency；　what　are　your　orders　about　the　pictures　there？”　said　the　butler。　And　the　count　went　into　the　house　with　him；　repeating　his　instructions　that　they　were　not　to　refuse　the　wounded　men　who　begged　to　go　with　them。
“You　can　take　something　out　of　the　loads；　you　know；”　he　added；　in　a　subdued　and　mysterious　voice；　as　though　he　were　afraid　of　being　overheard。
At　nine　o’clock　the　countess　woke　up；　and　Matrona　Timofyevna；　who　had　been　her　maid　before　her　marriage；　and　now　performed　the　duties　of　a　sort　of　chef　de　gendarmes　for　the　countess；　came　in　to　report　to　her　that　Madame　Schoss　was　very　much　aggrieved；　and　that　the　young　ladies’　summer　dresses　could　not　possibly　be　left　behind。　On　the　countess　inquiring　the　cause　of　Madame　Schoss’s　resentment；　it　appeared　that　that　lady’s　trunk　had　been　taken　out　of　the　waggon；　and　that　all　the　waggons　were　being　unloaded；　and　that　the　luggage　was　being　taken　out；　as　the　waggons　were　to　be　given　up　to　the　wounded　men；　whom　the　count；　with　his　usual　readiness　to　be　imposed　upon；　had　consented　to　take　away　with　them。　The　countess　sent　for　her　husband　to　come　to　her。
“What’s　this；　my　dear？　I　hear　the　luggage　is　being　unloaded。”
“Do　you　know；　ma　chère；　I　wanted　to　speak　to　you　about　it　…　dear　little　countess　…　an　officer　came　up　to　me—they　are　imploring　us　to　let　them　have　a　few　waggons　for　the　wounded。　It’s　all　a　question　of　money　loss　to　us；　of　course；　but　to　be　left　behind　…　think　what　it　means　to　them！　…　Here　they　are　in　our　very　yard；　we　asked　them　in　ourselves；　here　are　officers。…　You　know；　I　really　think；　ma　chère　…　well；　let　them　take　them。　We　are　in　no　hurry。”
The　count　spoke　timidly；　as　he　always　did　when　the　subject　was　in　any　way　connected　with　money。　The　countess　was　used　to　that　tone；　which　always　ushered　in　some　matter　prejudicial　to　her　children’s　interests；　such　as　the　building　of　a　new　gallery；　or　conservatory；　or　a　new　theatre　in　the　house；　or　the　training　of　an　orchestra；　and　she　made　it　a　habit；　and　regarded　it　as　a　duty；　to　oppose　everything　that　was　communicated　in　that　tone。
She　assumed　her　air　of　tearful　resignation；　and　said　to　her　husband：
“Listen；　count；　you　have　mismanaged　things　so；　that　we　are　getting　nothing　for　the　house；　and　now　you　want　to　throw　away　all　our—all　the　children’s—property。　Why；　you　told　me　yourself　that　we　have　a　hundred　thousand　roubles’　worth　of　valuables　in　the　house。　I　protest；　and　protest；　my　love。　What　would　you　have！　It’s　for　the　Government　to　look　after　the　wounded。　They　know　that。　Only　think；　the　Lopuhins　opposite　cleared　everything　to　the　last　stick　out　of　their　house　the　day　before　yesterday。　That’s　how　other　people　manage。　It’s　only　we　who　are　such　fools。　If　you　have　no　consideration　for　me；　do　at　least　think　of　your　children。”
The　count　waved　his　hands　in　despair；　and　went　out　of　the　room　without　a　word。
“Papa！　why　do　you　do　that？”　said　Natasha；　who　had　followed　him　into　her　mother’s　room。
“Nothing！　It’s　no　business　of　yours！”　the　count　said　angrily。
“But　I　heard；”　said　Natasha。　“Why　won’t　mamma　have　it？”
“It’s　no　business　of　yours！”　cried　the　count。
Natasha　walked　away　to　the　window　and　pondered。
“Papa；　here’s　Berg　coming　to　see　us；”　she　said；　looking　out　of　the　window。


Chapter　16
THE　ROSTOVS’　SON…IN…LAW；　Berg；　was　by　now　a　colonel；　with　the　orders　of　Vladimir　and　Anne　on　his　neck；　and　was　still　filling　the　same　comfortable　and　agreeable　post　of　assistant　to　the　head　of　the　staff　of　the　assistant　of　the　chief　officer　of　the　staff　of　the　commander　of　the　left　flank　of　the　infantry　of　the　first　army。
On　the　1st　of　September　he　had　come　into　Moscow　from　the　army。
He　had　absolutely　nothing　to　do　in　Moscow；　but　he　noticed　that　every　one　in　the　army　was　asking　leave　to　go　into　Moscow；　and　was　busy　doing　something　there。　He；　too；　thought　fit　to　ask　leave　of　absence　on　account　of　urgent　domestic　and　family　affairs。
Berg　drove　up　to　his　father…in…law’s　house　in　his　spruce　chaise；　with　his　pair　of　sleek　roans；　precisely　similar　to　those　of　a　certain　prince。　He　looked　carefully　at　the　luggage　in　the　yard；　and　as　he　ran　up　the　steps；　he　took　out　a　clean　pocket…handkerchief；　and　tied　a　knot　in　it。
Berg　ran　with　a　swimming；　impatient　step　from　the　entry　into　the　drawing…room；　embraced　the　count；　kissed　Natasha’s　hand　and　Sonya’s；　and　then　hastened　to　inquire　after　mamma’s　health。
“Health；　at　a　time　like　this！　Come；　tell　us　what　news　of　the　army！”　said　the　count。　“Are　they　retreating；　or　will　there　be　a　battle？”
“Only　Almighty　God　can　tell　what　will　be　the　fate　of　our　Fatherland；　papa；”　said　Berg。　“The　army　is　animated　by　the　most　ardent　spirit　of　heroism；　and　now　its　chiefs；　so　to　speak；　are　sitting　in　council。　No　one　knows　what　is　coming。　But　I　can　tell　you；　papa；　that　our　heroic　spirit；　the　truly　antique　valour　of　the　Russian　army；　which　they—it；　I　mean；”　he　corrected　himself—“showed　in　the　fight　of　the　26th　…　well；　there　are　no　words　that　can　do　justice　to　it。”　（He　smote　himself　on　the　chest　just　as　he　had　seen　a　general　do；　who　had　used　much　the　same　phrases　before　him—but　he　was　a　little　too　late；　for　the　blow　on　the　chest　should　properly　have　been　at　the　words；　“the　Russian　army。”）　“I　can　assure　you；　papa；　that　we　officers；　so　far　from　having　to　urge　the　soldiers　on；　or　anything　of　the　sort；　had　much　ado　to　keep　in　check　this　…　yes；　these　exploits　recalling　the　valour　of　antiquity；”　he　rattled　off。　“General　Barclay　de　Tolly　risked　his　life　everywhere　in　front　of　his　troops；　I　can　assure　you。　Our　corps　was　posted　on　the　slope　of　a　hill。　Only　fancy！”　And　Berg　proceeded　to　recount　all　the　stories　he　had　heard　repeated　about　the　battle。　Natasha　stared　at　Berg；　as　though　seeking　the　solution　of　some　problem　in　his　face；　and　her　eyes　disconcerted　him。
“Altogether；　the　heroism　shown　by　the　Russian　soldiers　is　beyond　praise；　and　beyond　description！”　said　Berg；　looking　at　Natasha；　and　as　though　wishing　to　soften　her；　he　smiled　in　response　to　her　persistent　stare　…　“　‘Russia　is　not　in　Moscow；　she　lives　in　the　hearts　of　her　sons！’　Eh；　papa？”　said　Berg。
At　that　moment　the　countess　came　in　from　the　divan…room　with　a　look　of　weariness　and　annoyance　on　her　face。　Berg　skipped　up；　kissed　the　countess’s　hand；　asked　after　her　health；　and　stood　beside　her；　with　a　sympathetic　shake　of　his　head。
“Yes；　mamma；　to　tell　the　truth；　these　are　hard　and　sorrowful　times　for　every　Russian。　But　why　should　you　be　so　anxious？　You　have　still　time　to　get　away　…”
“I　can’t　make　out　what　the　servants　are　about；”　said　the　countess；　addressing　her　husband。　“They　told　me　just　now　nothing　was　ready。　Some　one　really　must　go　and　look　after　them。　It’s　at　such　times　one　misses　Mitenka。　There　will　be　no　end　to　it。”
The　count　was　about　to　make　some　reply；　but　with　a　visible　effort　to　restrain　himself；　got　up　and　went　to　the　door　without　a　word。
Berg；　meanwhile；　had　taken　out　his　handkerchief　as　though　about　to　blow　his　nose；　and；　seeing　the　knot　in　it；　he　pondered　a　moment；　shaking　his　head　with　mournful　significance。
“And；　do　you　know；　papa；　I　have　a　great　favour　to　ask　…”　he　began。
“H’m？”　said　the　count；　pausing。
“I　was　passing　by　Yusupov’s　house　just　now；”　said　Berg；　laughing。　“The　steward；　a　man　I　know；　ran　out　and　asked　me　whether　I　wouldn’t　care　to　buy　any　of　their　things。　I　went　in；　you　know；　out　of　curiosity；　and　there　is　a　little　chiffonier　and　dressing…table。　You　know；　just　like　what　Verushka　wanted；　and　we　quarrelled　about。”　（Berg　unconsciously　passed　into　a　tone　expressive　of　his　pleasure　in　his　own　excellent　domestic　arrangements。）　“And　such　a　charming　thing！—it　moves　forward；　you　know；　with　a　secret　English　lock。　And　it’s　just　what　Verushka　wanted。　So　I　want　to　make　it　a　surprise　for　her。　I　see　what　a　number　of　peasants　you　have　in　the　yard。　Please；　spare　me　one　of　them。　I’ll　pay　him　well；　and　…”
The　count　frowned　and　sniffed。
“Ask　the　countess；　I　don’t　give　the　orders。”
“If　it’s　troublesome；　pray　don’t；”　said　Berg。　“Only　I　should　have　liked　it　on　Vera’s　account。”
“Ah；　go　to　damnation　all　of　you；　damnation！　damnation！　damnation！”　cried　the　old　count。　“My　head’s　going　round。”　And　he　went　out　of　the　room。
The　countess　began　to　cry。
“Yes；　indeed；　these　are　terrible　times；　mamma！”　said　Berg。
Natasha　went　out　with　her　father；　and　as　though　unable　to　make　up　her　mind　on　some　difficult　question；　she　followed　him　at　first；　then　turned　and　ran　downstairs。
Petya　was　standing　at　the　entrance；　engaged　in　giving　out　weapons　to　the　servants；　who　were　leaving　Moscow。　The　loaded　waggons　were　still　standing　in　the　yards。　Two　of　them　had　been　uncorded；　and　on　to　one　of　these　the　wounded　officer　was　clambering　with　the　assistance　of　his　orderly。
“Do　you　know　what　it　was　about？”　Petya　asked　Natasha。　（Natasha　knew　that　he　meant；　what　their　father　and　mother　had　been　quarrelling　about。）　She　did　not　answer。
“It　was　because　papa　wanted　to　give　up　all　the　waggons　to　the　wounded；”　said　Petya。　“Vassilitch　told　me。　And　what　I　think　…”
“What　I　think；”　Natasha　suddenly　almost　screamed；　turning　a　furious　face　on　Petya；　“what　I　think　is；　that　it’s　so　vile；　so　loathsome　…　I　don’t　know。　Are　we　a　lot　of　low　Germans？　…”　Her　throat　was　quivering　with　sobs；　but　afraid　of　being　weak；　or　wasting　the　force　of　her　anger；　she　turned　and　flew　headlong　up　the　stairs。
Berg　was　sitting　beside　the　countess；　trying　with　filial　respectfulness　to　r