战争与和平(上)-第216章

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d　of　the　clusters　of　black；　sleek　bees；　clinging　on　each　other’s　legs；　hanging　to　the　lower　side　of　the　partition；　and　with　an　unbroken　hum　of　toil　building　at　the　wax；　drowsy；　withered　bees　wander　listlessly　about　over　the　roof　and　walls　of　the　hive。　Instead　of　the　cleanly　glued…up　floor；　swept　by　the　bees’　wings；　there　are　now　bits　of　wax；　excrement；　dying　bees　feebly　kicking；　and　dead　bees　lying　not　cleared　away　on　the　floor。
The　beekeeper　opens　the　upper　door　and　examines　the　super　of　the　hive。　In　place　of　close　rows　of　bees；　sealing　up　every　gap　left　in　the　combs　and　fostering　the　brood；　he　sees　only　the　skilful；　complex；　edifice　of　combs；　and　even　in　this　the　virginal　purity　of　old　days　is　gone。　All　is　forsaken；　and　soiled；　black；　stranger　bees　scurry　swiftly　and　stealthily　about　the　combs　in　search　of　plunder；　while　the　dried…up；　shrunken；　listless；　old…looking　bees　of　the　hive　wander　slowly　about；　doing　nothing　to　hinder　them；　having　lost　every　desire　and　sense　of　life。　Drones；　gadflies；　wasps　and　butterflies　flutter　about　aimlessly；　brushing　their　wings　against　the　walls　of　the　hive。　Here　and　there；　between　the　cells　full　of　dead　brood　and　honey；　is　heard　an　angry　buzz；　here　and　there　a　couple　of　bees　from　old　habit　and　custom；　though　they　know　not　why　they　do　it；　are　cleaning　the　hive；　painfully　dragging　away　a　dead　bee　or　a　wasp；　a　task　beyond　their　strength。　In　another　corner　two　other　old　bees　are　languidly　fighting　or　cleaning　themselves　or　feeding　one　another；　themselves　unaware　whether　with　friendly　or　hostile　intent。　Elsewhere　a　crowd　of　bees；　squeezing　one　another；　is　falling　upon　some　victim；　beating　and　crushing　it；　and　the　killed　or　enfeebled　bee　drops　slowly；　light　as　a　feather；　on　to　the　heap　of　corpses。　The　beekeeper　parts　the　two　centre　partitions　to　look　at　the　nursery。　Instead　of　the　dense；　black　rings　of　thousands　of　bees；　sitting　back　to　back；　watching　the　high　mysteries　of　the　work　of　generation；　he　sees　hundreds　of　dejected；　lifeless；　and　slumbering　wrecks　of　bees。　Almost　all　have　died；　unconscious　of　their　coming　end；　sitting　in　the　holy　place；　which　they　had　watched—now　no　more。　They　reek　of　death　and　corruption。　But　a　few　of　them　still　stir；　rise　up；　fly　languidly　and　settle　on　the　hand　of　the　foe；　without　the　spirit　to　die　stinging　him；　the　rest　are　dead　and　as　easily　brushed　aside　as　fishes’　scales。　The　beekeeper　closes　the　partition；　chalks　a　mark　on　the　hive；　and　choosing　his　own　time；　breaks　it　up　and　burns　it。
So　was　Moscow　deserted；　as　Napoleon；　weary；　uneasy　and　frowning；　paced　up　and　down　at　the　Kamerkolezhsky　wall　awaiting　that　merely　external；　but　still　to　his　mind　essential　observance　of　the　proprieties—a　deputation。
Some　few　men　were　still　astir　in　odd　corners　of　Moscow；　aimlessly　following　their　old　habits；　with　no　understanding　of　what　they　were　doing。
When；　with　due　circumspectness；　Napoleon　was　informed　that　Moscow　was　deserted；　he　looked　wrathfully　at　his　informant；　and　turning　his　back　on　him；　went　on　pacing　up　and　down　in　silence。
“My　carriage；”　he　said。　He　sat　down　in　his　carriage　beside　the　adjutant　on　duty；　and　drove　into　the　suburbs。
“Moscow　deserted！　What　an　incredible　event！”　he　said　to　himself。
He　did　not　drive　right　into　the　town；　but　put　up　for　the　night　at　an　inn　in　the　Dorogomilov　suburb。　The　dramatic　scene　had　not　come　off。


Chapter　21
THE　RUSSIAN　TROOPS　were　crossing　Moscow　from　two　o’clock　at　night　to　two　o’clock　in　the　day；　and　took　with　them　the　last　departing　inhabitants　and　wounded　soldiers。
The　greatest　crush　took　place　on　the　Kamenny　bridge；　the　Moskvoryetsky　bridge；　and　Yauzsky　bridge。　While　the　troops；　parting　in　two　about　the　Kremlin；　were　crowding　on　to　the　Moskvoryetsky　and　Kamenny　bridges；　an　immense　number　of　soldiers　availed　themselves　of　the　stoppage　and　the　block　to　turn　back；　and　slipping　stealthily　and　quietly　by　Vassily　the　Blessed；　and　under　the　Borovitsky　gates；　they　made　their　way　uphill　to　the　Red　Square；　where　some　instinct　told　them　they　could　easily　carry　off　other　people’s　property。　Every　passage　and　alley　of　the　Gostinny　bazaar　was　filled　with　a　crowd；　such　as　throngs　there　at　sales。　But　there　were　no　ingratiating；　alluring　voices　of　shopmen；　no　hawkers；　no　motley；　female　mob　of　purchasers—everywherewere　the　uniforms　and　overcoats　of　soldiers　without　guns；　going　out　in　silence　with　loads　of　booty；　and　coming　in　empty…handed。　The　shopkeepers　and　shopmen　（they　were　few）　were　walking　about　among　the　soldiers；　like　men　distraught；　opening　and　shutting　their　shops；　and　helping　their　assistants　to　carry　away　their　wares。　There　were　drummers　in　the　square　before　the　bazaar　beating　the　muster…call。　But　the　roll　of　the　drum　made　the　pillaging　soldiers　not　run　up　at　the　call　as　of　old；　but；　on　the　contrary；　run　away　from　the　drum。　Among　the　soldiers　in　the　shops　and　passages　could　be　seen　men　in　the　grey　coats；　and　with　the　shaven　heads　of　convicts。　Two　officers；　one　with　a　scarf　over　his　uniform；　on　a　thin；　dark　grey　horse；　the　other　on　foot；　wearing　a　military　overcoat；　stood　at　the　corner　of　Ilyinka；　talking。　A　third　officer　galloped　up　to　them。
“The　general　has　sent　orders　that　they　positively　must　all　be　driven　out。　Why；　this　is　outrageous！　Half　the　men　have　run　off。”
“Why；　are　you　off　too？　…　Where　are　you　fellows　off　to？”　…　he　shouted　to　three　infantry　soldiers；　who　ran　by　him　into　the　bazaar　without　guns；　holding　up　the　skirts　of　their　overcoats。　“Stop；　rascals！”
“Yes；　you　see；　how　are　you　going　to　get　hold　of　them？”　answered　another　officer。　“There’s　no　getting　them　together；　we　must　push　on　so　that　the　last　may　not　be　gone；　that’s　the　only　thing　to　do！”
“How’s　one　to　push　on？　There　they　have　been　standing；　with　a　block　on　the　bridge；　and　they　are　not　moving。　Shouldn’t　a　guard　be　set　to　prevent　the　rest　running　off？”
“Why；　come　along！　Drive　them　out；”　shouted　the　senior　officer。
The　officer　in　the　scarf　dismounted；　called　up　a　drummer；　and　went　with　him　into　the　arcade。　Several　soldiers　in　a　group　together　made　a　rush　away。　A　shopkeeper；　with　red　bruises　on　his　cheeks　about　his　nose；　with　an　expression　on　his　sleek　face　of　quiet　persistence　in　the　pursuit　of　gain；　came　hurriedly　and　briskly　up　to　the　officer　gesticulating。
“Your　honour；”　said　he；　“graciously　protect　us。　We　are　not　close…fisted—any　trifle　now　…　we　shall　be　delighted！　Pray；　your　honour；　walk　in；　I’ll　bring　out　cloth　in　a　moment—a　couple　of　pieces　even　for　a　gentleman　—we　shall　be　delighted！　For　we　feel　how　it　is；　but　this　is　simple　robbery！　Pray；　your　honour！　a　guard　or　something　should　be　set；　to　let　us　at　least　shut　up　…”
Several　shopkeepers　crowded　round　the　officer。
“Eh！　it’s　no　use　clacking；”　said　one　of　them；　a　thin　man；　with　a　stern　face；　“when　one’s　head’s　off；　one　doesn’t　weep　over　one’s　hair。　Let　all　take　what　they　please！”　And　with　a　vigorous　sweep　of　his　arm　he　turned　away　from　the　officer。
“It’s　all　very　well　for　you　to　talk；　Ivan　Sidoritch；”　the　first　shopkeeper　began　angrily。　“If　you　please；　your　honour。”
“What’s　the　use　of　talking！”　shouted　the　thin　man；　“in　my　three　shops　here　I　have　one　hundred　thousand　worth　of　goods。　How’s　one　to　guard　them　when　the　army　is　gone？　Ah；　fellows；　God’s　will　is　not　in　men’s　hands！”
“If　you　please；　your　honour；”　said　the　first　shopkeeper；　bowing。
The　officer　stood　in　uncertainty；　and　his　face　betrayed　indecision。　“Why；　what　business　is　it　of　mine！”　he　cried　suddenly；　and　he　strode　on　rapidly　along　the　arcade。　In　one　open　shop　he　heard　blows　and　high　words；　and　just　as　the　officer　was　going　into　it；　a　man　in　a　grey　coat；　with　a　shaven　head；　was　thrust　violently　out　of　the　door。
This　man　doubled　himself　up　and　bounded　past　the　shopkeepers　and　the　officer。　The　officer　pounced　on　the　soldiers　who　were　in　the　shop。　But　meanwhile　fearful　screams；　coming　from　an　immense　crowd；　were　heard　near　the　Moskvoryetsky　bridge；　and　the　officer　ran　out　into　the　square。
“What　is　it？　What　is　it？”　he　asked；　but　his　comrade　had　already　galloped　off　in　the　direction　of　the　screams。　The　officer　mounted　his　horse　and　followed　him。　As　he　drew　near　the　bridge；　he　saw　two　cannons　that　had　been　taken　off　their　carriages；　the　infantry　marching　over　the　bridge；　a　few　broken…down　carts；　and　some　soldiers　with　frightened；　and　some　with　laughing　faces。　Near　the　cannons　stood　a　waggon　with　a　pair　of　horses　harnessed　to　it。　Behind　the　wheels　huddled　four　greyhounds　in　collars。　A　mountain　of　goods　was　piled　up　in　the　waggon；　and　on　the　very　top；　beside　a　child’s　chair　turned　legs　uppermost；　sat　a　woman；　who　was　uttering　shrill　and　despairing　shrieks。　The　officer　was　told　by　his　comrades　that　the　screams　of　the　crowd　and　the　woman’s　shrieks　were　due　to　the　fact　that　General　Yermolov　had　come　riding　down　on　the　crowd；　and　learning　that　the　soldiers　were　straying　away　in　the　shops；　and　crowds　of　the　townspeople　were　blocking　the　bridge；　had　commanded　them　to　take　the　cannons　out　of　their　carriages；　and　to　make　as　though　they　would　fire　them　at　the　bridge。　The　crowd　had　made　a　rush；　upsetting　waggons；　trampling　one　another；　and　screaming　desperately；　the　bridge　had　been　cleared；　and　the　troops　had　moved　on。


Chapter　22
THE　TOWN　ITSELF　meanwhile　was　deserted。　There　was　scarcely　a　creature　in　the　streets。　The　gates　and　the　shops　were　all　closed；　here　and　there　near　pot…houses　could　be　heard　solitary　shouts　or　drunken　singing。　No　one　was　driving　in　the　streets；　and　footsteps　were　rarely　heard。　Povarsky　Street　was　perfectly　still　and　deserted。　In　the　immense　courtyard　of　the　Rostovs’　house　a　few　wisps　of　straw　were　lying　about；　litter　out　of　the　waggons　that　had　gone　away；　and　not　a　man　was　to　be　seen。　In　the　Rostovs’　house—abandoned　with　all　its　wealth—there　were　two　persons　in　the　great　drawing…room。　These　were　the　porter；　Ignat；　and　the　little　page；　Mishka；　the　grandson　of　Vassilitch；　who　had　remained　in　Moscow　with　his　grandfather。　Mishka　had　opened　the　clavichord；　and　was　strumming　with　one　finger。　The　porter；　with　his　arms　akimbo　and　a　gleeful　smile　on　his　face；　was　standing　before　the　great　looking…glass。
“That’s　fine；　eh；　Uncle　Ignat？”　said　the　boy；　beginning　to　bang　with　both　hands　at　once　on　the　keys。
“Ay；　ay！”　answered　Ignat；　admiring　the　broadening　grin　on　his　visage　in　the　glass。
“Shameless　fellows！　Shameless；　upon　my　word！”　they　heard　behind　them　the　voice　of　Mavra　Kuzminishna；　who　had　softly　entered。　“The　fat…faced　fellow　grinning　at　himself！　So　this　is　what　you　are　at！　It’s　not　all　cleared　away　down　there；　and　Vassilitch　fairly　knocked　up。　You　wait　a　bit！”
Ignat；　setting　his　belt　straight；　left　off　smiling；　and　with　eyes　submissively　downcast；　walked　out　of　the　room。
“Auntie；　I　was　only　just　touching　…”　said　the　boy。
“I’ll　teach　you　only　just　to　touch。　Little　rascal！”　cried　Mavra　Kuzminishna；　waving　her　hand　at　him。　“Go　and　set　the　samovar　for　your　granddad。”
Brushing　the　dust　off；　she　closed　the　clavichord；　and　sighing　heavily　went　out　of　the　drawing…room　and　closed　the　door。　Going　out　into　the　yard　Mavra　Kuzminishna　mused　where　she　would　go　next：　whether　to　drink　tea　in　the　lodge　with　Vassilitch；　or　to　the　storeroom　to　put　away　what　still　remained　to　be　stored　away。
There　was　a　sound　of　rapid　footsteps　in　the　still　street。　The　steps　pa