战争与和平(上)-第23章

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“Yes；　and　to…morrow　too；”　answered　her　brother。
“He　is　deserting　me　here；　and　Heaven　knows　why；　when　he　might　have　had　promotion　…”　Princess　Marya　did　not　listen　to　the　end；　but　following　her　own　train　of　thought；　she　turned　to　her　sister…in…law；　letting　her　affectionate　eyes　rest　on　her　waist。
“Is　it　really　true？”　she　said。
The　face　of　her　sister…in…law　changed。　She　sighed。
“Yes；　it’s　true；”　she　said。　“Oh！　It’s　very　dreadful　…”
Liza’s　lip　drooped。　She　put　her　face　close　to　her　sister…in…law’s　face；　and　again　she　unexpectedly　began　to　cry。
“She　needs　rest；”　said　Prince　Andrey；　frowning。　“Don’t　you；　Liza？　Take　her　to　your　room；　while　I　go　to　father。　How　is　he—just　the　same？”
“The　same；　just　the　same；　I　don’t　know　what　you　will　think；”　Princess　Marya　answered　joyfully。
“And　the　same　hours；　and　the　walks　about　the　avenues；　and　the　lathe？”　asked　Prince　Andrey　with　a　scarcely　perceptible　smile；　showing　that；　in　spite　of　all　his　love　and　respect　for　his　father；　he　recognised　his　weaknesses。
“The　same　hours　and　the　lathe；　mathematics　too；　and　my　geometry　lessons；”　Princess　Marya　answered　gaily；　as　though　those　lessons　were　one　of　the　most　delightful　events　of　her　life。
When　the　twenty　minutes　had　elapsed；　and　the　time　for　the　old　prince　to　get　up　had　come；　Tihon　came　to　call　the　young　man　to　his　father。　The　old　man　made　a　departure　from　his　ordinary　routine　in　honour　of　his　son’s　arrival。　He　directed　that　he　should　be　admitted　into　his　apartments　during　his　time　for　dressing；　before　dinner。　The　old　prince　used　to　wear　the　old…fashioned　dress；　the　kaftan　and　powder。　And　when　Prince　Andrey—not　with　the　disdainful　face　and　manners　with　which　he　walked　into　drawing…rooms；　but　with　the　eager　face　with　which　he　had　talked　to　Pierre—went　in　to　his　father’s　room；　the　old　gentleman　was　in　his　dressing…room　sitting　in　a　roomy　morocco　chair　in　a　peignoir；　with　his　head　in　the　hands　of　Tihon。
“Ah！　the　warrior！　So　you　want　to　fight　Bonaparte？”　said　the　old　man；　shaking　his　powdered　head　as　far　as　his　plaited　tail；　which　was　in　Tihon’s　hands；　would　permit　him。
“Mind　you　look　sharp　after　him；　at　any　rate；　or　he’ll　soon　be　putting　us　on　the　list　of　his　subjects。　How　are　you？”
And　he　held　out　his　cheek　to　him。
The　old　gentleman　was　in　excellent　humour　after　his　nap　before　dinner。　（He　used　to　say　that　sleep　after　dinner　was　silver；　but　before　dinner　it　was　golden。）　He　took　delighted；　sidelong　glances　at　his　son　from　under　his　thick；　overhanging　brows。　Prince　Andrey　went　up　and　kissed　his　father　on　the　spot　indicated　for　him。　He　made　no　reply　on　his　father’s　favourite　topic—jesting　banter　at　the　military　men　of　the　period；　and　particularly　at　Bonaparte。
“Yes；　I　have　come　to　you；　father；　bringing　a　wife　with　child；”　said　Prince　Andrey；　with　eager　and　reverential　eyes　watching　every　movement　of　his　father’s　face。　“How　is　your　health？”
“None　but　fools；　my　lad；　and　profligates　are　unwell；　and　you　know　me；　busy　from　morning　till　night　and　temperate；　so　of　course　I’m　well。”
“Thank　God；”　said　his　son；　smiling。
“God’s　not　much　to　do　with　the　matter。　Come；　tell　me；”　the　old　man　went　on；　going　back　to　his　favourite　hobby；　“how　have　the　Germans　trained　you　to　fight　with　Bonaparte　on　their　new　scientific　method—strategy　as　they　call　it？”
Prince　Andrey　smiled。
“Give　me　time　to　recover　myself；　father；”　he　said；　with　a　smile　that　showed　that　his　father’s　failings　did　not　prevent　his　respecting　and　loving　him。　“Why；　I　have　only　just　got　here。”
“Nonsense；　nonsense；”　cried　the　old　man；　shaking　his　tail　to　try　whether　it　were　tightly　plaited；　and　taking　his　son　by　the　hand。　“The　house　is　ready　for　your　wife。　Marie　will　look　after　her　and　show　her　everything；　and　talk　nineteen　to　the　dozen　with　her　too。　That’s　their　feminine　way。　I’m　glad　to　have　her。　Sit　down；　talk　to　me。　Mihelson’s　army；　I　understand；　Tolstoy’s　too　…　a　simultaneous　expedition　…　but　what’s　the　army　of　the　South　going　to　do？　Prussia；　her　neutrality　…　I　know　all　that。　What　of　Austria？”　he　said；　getting　up　from　his　chair　and　walking　about　the　room；　with　Tihon　running　after　him；　giving　him　various　articles　of　his　apparel。　“What　about　Sweden？　How　will　they　cross　Pomerania？”
Prince　Andrey；　seeing　the　urgency　of　his　father’s　questions；　began　explaining　the　plan　of　operations　of　the　proposed　campaign；　speaking　at　first　reluctantly；　but　becoming　more　interested　as　he　went　on；　and　unconsciously　from　habit　passing　from　Russian　into　French。　He　told　him　how　an　army　of　ninety　thousand　troops　was　to　threaten　Prussia　so　as　to　drive　her　out　of　her　neutrality　and　draw　her　into　the　war；　how　part　of　these　troops　were　to　join　the　Swedish　troops　at　Strahlsund；　how　two　hundred　and　twenty　thousand　Austrians　were　to　combine　with　a　hundred　thousand　Russians　in　Italy　and　on　the　Rhine；　and　how　fifty　thousand　Russians　and　fifty　thousand　English　troops　were　to　meet　at　Naples；　and　how　the　army；　forming　a　total　of　five　hundred　thousand；　was　to　attack　the　French　on　different　sides　at　once。　The　old　prince　did　not　manifest　the　slightest　interest　in　what　he　told　him。　He　went　on　dressing；　as　he　walked　about；　apparently　not　listening；　and　three　times　he　unexpectedly　interrupted　him。　Once　he　stopped　him　and　shouted：　“the　white　one！　the　white　one！”
This　meant　that　Tihon　had　not　given　him　the　waistcoat　he　wanted。　Another　time；　he　stood　still；　asked：　“And　will　she　be　confined　soon？”　and　shook　his　head　reproachfully：　“That’s　bad！　Go　on；　go　on。”
The　third　time　was　when　Prince　Andrey　was　just　finishing　his　description。　The　old　man　hummed　in　French；　in　his　falsetto　old　voice：　“Malbrook　goes　off　to　battle；　God　knows　when　he’ll　come　back。”
His　son　only　smiled。
“I　don’t　say　that　this　is　a　plan　I　approve　of；”　he　said；　“I’m　only　telling　you　what　it　is。　Napoleon　has　made　a　plan　by　now　as　good　as　this　one。”
“Well；　you　have　told　me　nothing　new。”　And　thoughtfully　the　old　man　repeated；　speaking　quickly　to　himself：　“God　knows　when　he’ll　come　back。　Go　into　the　dining…room。”


Chapter　24
AT　THE　EXACT　HOUR；　the　prince；　powdered　and　shaven；　walked　into　the　dining…room；　where　there　were　waiting　for　him　his　daughter…in…law；　Princess　Marya；　Mademoiselle　Bourienne；　and　the　prince’s　architect；　who；　by　a　strange　whim　of　the　old　gentleman’s；　dined　at　his　table；　though　being　an　insignificant　person　of　no　social　standing；　he　would　not　naturally　have　expected　to　be　treated　with　such　honour。　The　prince；　who　was　in　practice　a　firm　stickler　for　distinctions　of　tank；　and　rarely　admitted　to　his　table　even　important　provincial　functionaries；　had　suddenly　pitched　on　the　architect　Mihail　Ivanovitch；　blowing　his　nose　in　a　check　pocket…handkerchief　in　the　corner；　to　illustrate　the　theory　that　all　men　are　equal；　and　had　more　than　once　impressed　upon　his　daughter　that　Mihail　Ivanovitch　was　every　whit　as　good　as　himself　and　her。　At　table　the　prince　addressed　his　conversation　to　the　taciturn　architect　more　often　than　to　any　one。
In　the　dining…room；　which；　like　all　the　other　rooms　in　the　house；　was　immensely　lofty；　the　prince’s　entrance　was　awaited　by　all　the　members　of　his　household　and　the　footmen；　standing　behind　each　chair。　The　butler　with　a　table…napkin　on　his　arm　scanned　the　setting　of　the　table；　making　signs　to　the　footmen；　and　continually　he　glanced　uneasily　from　the　clock　on　the　wall　to　the　door；　by　which　the　prince　was　to　enter。　Prince　Andrey　stood　at　an　immense　golden　frame　on　the　wall　that　was　new　to　him。　It　contained　the　genealogical　tree　of　the　Bolkonskys；　and　hanging　opposite　it　was　a　frame；　equally　immense；　with　a　badly　painted　representation　（evidently　the　work　of　some　household　artist）　of　a　reigning　prince　in　a　crown；　intended　for　the　descendant　of　Rurik　and　founder　of　the　family　of　the　Bolkonsky　princes。　Prince　Andrey　looked　at　this　genealogical　tree　shaking　his　head；　and　he　laughed。
“There　you　have　him　all　over！”　he　said　to　Princess　Marya　as　she　came　up　to　him。
Princess　Marya　looked　at　her　brother　in　surprise。　She　did　not　know　what　he　was　smiling　at。　Everything　her　father　did　inspired　in　her　reverence　that　did　not　admit　of　criticism。
“Every　one　has　his　weak　spot；”　Prince　Andrey　went　on；　“with　his　vast　intellect　to　condescend　to　such　triviality！”
Princess　Marya　could　not　understand　the　boldness　of　her　brother’s　criticism　and　was　making　ready　to　protest；　when　the　step　they　were　all　listening　for　was　heard　coming　from　the　study。　The　prince　walked　in　with　a　quick；　lively　step；　as　he　always　walked；　as　though　intentionally　contrasting　the　elasticity　of　his　movements　with　the　rigidity　of　the　routine　of　the　house。　At　that　instant　the　big　clock　struck　two；　and　another　clock　in　the　drawing…room　echoed　it　in　thinner　tones。　The　prince　stood　still；　his　keen；　stern　eyes　gleaming　under　his　bushy；　overhanging　brows　scanned　all　the　company　and　rested　on　the　little　princess。　The　little　princess　experienced　at　that　moment　the　sensation　that　courtiers　know　on　the　entrance　of　the　Tsar；　that　feeling　of　awe　and　veneration　that　this　old　man　inspired　in　every　one　about　him。　He　stroked　the　little　princess　on　the　head；　and　then　with　an　awkward　movement　patted　her　on　her　neck。
“I’m　glad；　glad　to　see　you；”　he　said；　and　looking　intently　into　her　eyes　he　walked　away　and　sat　down　in　his　place。　“Sit　down；　sit　down；　Mihail　Ivanovitch；　sit　down。”
He　pointed　his　daughter…in…law　to　a　seat　beside　him。　The　footman　moved　a　chair　back　for　her。
“Ho；　ho！”　said　the　old　man；　looking　at　her　rounded　figure。　“You’ve　not　lost　time；　that’s　bad！”　He　laughed　a　dry；　cold；　unpleasant　laugh；　laughing　as　he　always　did　with　his　lips；　but　not　with　his　eyes。　“You　must　have　exercise；　as　much　exercise　as　possible；　as　much　as　possible；”　he　said。
The　little　princess　did　not　hear　or　did　not　care　to　hear　his　words。　She　sat　dumb　and　seemed　disconcerted。　The　prince　asked　after　her　father；　and　she　began　to　talk　and　to　smile。　He　asked　her　about　common　acquaintances；　the　princess　became　more　and　more　animated；　and　began　talking　away；　giving　the　prince　greetings　from　various　people　and　retailing　the　gossip　of　the　town。
“Poor　Countess　Apraxin　has　lost　her　husband；　she　has　quite　cried　her　eyes　out；　poor　dear；”　she　said；　growing　more　and　more　lively。
As　she　became　livelier；　the　prince　looked　more　and　more　sternly　at　her；　and　all　at　once；　as　though　he　had　studied　her　sufficiently　and　had　formed　a　clear　idea　of　her；　he　turned　away　and　addressed　Mihail　Ivanovitch：
“Well；　Mihail　Ivanovitch；　our　friend　Bonaparte　is　to　have　a　bad　time　of　it。　Prince　Andrey”　（this　was　how　he　always　spoke　of　his　son）　“has　been　telling　me　what　forces　are　being　massed　against　him！　While　you　and　I　have　always　looked　upon　him　as　a　very　insignificant　person。”
Mihail　Ivanovitch；　utterly　at　a　loss　to　conjecture　when　“you　and　I”　had　said　anything　of　the　sort　about　Bonaparte；　but　grasping　that　he　was　wanted　for　the　introduction　of　the　prince’s　favourite　subject；　glanced　in　wonder　at　the　young　prince；　not　knowing　what　was　to　come　next。
“He’s　a　great　tactician！”　said　the　prince　to　his　son；　indicating　the　architect；　and　the　conversation　turned　again　on　the　war；　on　Bonaparte；　and　the　generals　and　political　personages　of　the　day。　The　old　prince　was；　it　seemed；　convinced　that　all　the　public　men　of　the　period　were　mere　babes　wh