战争与和平(上)-第24章

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ince　was；　it　seemed；　convinced　that　all　the　public　men　of　the　period　were　mere　babes　who　had　no　idea　of　the　A　B　C　of　military　and　political　matters；　while　Bonaparte；　according　to　him；　was　an　insignificant　Frenchman；　who　had　met　with　success　simply　because　there　were　no　Potyomkins　and　Suvorovs　to　oppose　him。　He　was　even　persuaded　firmly　that　there　were　no　political　difficulties　in　Europe；　that　there　was　no　war　indeed；　but　only　a　sort　of　marionette　show　in　which　the　men　of　the　day　took　part；　pretending　to　be　doing　the　real　thing。　Prince　Andrey　received　his　father’s　jeers　at　modern　people　gaily；　and　with　obvious　pleasure　drew　his　father　out　and　listened　to　him。
“Does　everything　seem　good　that　was　done　in　the　past？”　he　said；　“why；　didn’t　Suvorov　himself　fall　into　the　trap　Moreau　laid　for　him；　and　wasn’t　he　unable　to　get　out　of　it　too？”
“Who　told　you　that？　Who　said　so？”　cried　the　prince。　“Suvorov！”　And　he　flung　away　his　plate；　which　Tihon　very　neatly　caught。　“Suvorov！…　Think　again；　Prince　Andrey。　There　were　two　men—Friedrich　and　Suvorov　…　Moreau！　Moreau　would　have　been　a　prisoner　if　Suvorov’s　hands　had　been　free；　but　his　hands　were　tied　by　the　Hofsskriegswurstschnappsrath；　the　devil　himself　would　have　been　in　a　tight　place。　Ah；　you’ll　find　out　what　these　Hofskriegswurstschnappsraths　are　like！　Suvorov　couldn’t　get　the　better　of　them；　so　how　is　Mihail　Kutuzov　going　to　do　it？　No；　my　dear；”　he　went　on；　“so　you　and　your　generals　aren’t　able　to　get　round　Bonaparte；　you　must　needs　call　in　Frenchmen　—set　a　thief　to　catch　a　thief！　The　German；　Pahlen；　has　been　sent　to　New　York　in　America　to　get　the　Frenchman　Moreau；”　he　said；　alluding　to　the　invitation　that　had　that　year　been　made　to　Moreau　to　enter　the　Russian　service。　“A　queer　business！…Why　the　Potyomkins；　the　Suvorovs；　the　Orlovs；　were　they　Germans？　No；　my　lad；　either　you　have　all　lost　your　wits；　or　I　have　outlived　mine。　God　help　you；　and　we　shall　see。　Bonaparte’s　become　a　great　military　leader　among　them！　H’m！…”
“I　don’t　say　at　all　that　all　those　plans　are　good；”　said　Prince　Andrey；　“only　I　can’t　understand　how　you　can　have　such　an　opinion　of　Bonaparte。　Laugh；　if　you　like；　but　Bonaparte　is　any　way　a　great　general！”
“Mihail　Ivanovitch！”　the　old　prince　cried　to　the　architect；　who；　absorbed　in　the　roast　meat；　hoped　they　had　forgotten　him。　“Didn’t　I　tell　you　Bonaparte　was　a　great　tactician？　Here　he　says　so　too。”
“To　be　sure；　your　excellency；”　replied　the　architect。　The　prince　laughed　again　his　frigid　laugh。
“Bonaparte　was　born　with　a　silver　spoon　in　his　mouth。　He　has　splendid　soldiers。　And　he　attacked　the　Germans　first　too。　And　any　fool　can　beat　the　Germans。　From　the　very　beginning　of　the　world　every　one　has　beaten　the　Germans。　And　they’ve　never　beaten　any　one。　They　only　conquer　each　other。　He　made　his　reputation　fighting　against　them。”
And　the　prince　began　analysing　all　the　blunders　that　in　his　opinion　Bonaparte　had　committed　in　his　wars　and　even　in　politics。　His　son　did　not　protest；　but　it　was　evident　that　whatever　arguments　were　advanced　against　him；　he　was　as　little　disposed　to　give　up　his　opinion　as　the　old　prince　himself。　Prince　Andrey　listened　and　refrained　from　replying。　He　could　not　help　wondering　how　this　old　man；　living　so　many　years　alone　and　never　leaving　the　country；　could　know　all　the　military　and　political　events　in　Europe　of　the　last　few　years　in　such　detail　and　with　such　accuracy；　and　form　his　own　judgment　on　them。
“You　think　I’m　an　old　man　and　don’t　understand　the　actual　position　of　affairs？”　he　wound　up。　“But　I’ll　tell　you　I’m　taken　up　with　it！　I　don’t　sleep　at　nights。　Come；　where　has　this　great　general　of　yours　proved　himself　to　be　such？”
“That　would　be　a　long　story；”　answered　his　son。
“You　go　along　to　your　Bonaparte。　Mademoiselle　Bourienne；　here　is　another　admirer　of　your　blackguard　of　an　emperor！”　he　cried　in　excellent　French。
“You　know　that　I　am　not　a　Bonapartist；　prince。”
“God　knows　when　he’ll　come　back　…”　the　prince　hummed　in　falsetto；　laughed　still　more　falsetto；　and　got　up　from　the　table。
The　little　princess　had　sat　silent　during　the　whole　discussion　and　the　rest　of　the　dinner；　looking　in　alarm　first　at　Princess　Marya　and　then　at　her　father…in…law。　When　they　left　the　dinner…table；　she　took　her　sister…in…law’s　arm　and　drew　her　into　another　room。
“What　a　clever　man　your　father　is；”　she　said；　“perhaps　that　is　why　I　am　afraid　of　him。”
“Oh；　he　is　so　kind！”　said　Princess　Marya。


Chapter　25
PRINCE　ANDREY　was　leaving　the　following　evening。　The　old　prince；　not　departing　from　his　regular　routine；　went　away　to　his　own　room　after　dinner。　The　little　princess　was　with　her　sister…in…law。　Prince　Andrey；　having　changed　his　dress　and　put　on　a　travelling…coat　without　epaulettes；　had　been　packing　with　his　valet　in　the　rooms　set　apart　for　him。　After　himself　inspecting　the　coach　and　the　packing　of　his　trunks　on　it；　he　gave　orders　for　the　horses　to　be　put　to。　Nothing　was　left　in　the　room　but　the　things　that　Prince　Andrey　always　carried　with　him：　a　travelling…case；　a　big　silver　wine…case；　two　Turkish　pistols　and　a　sabre；　a　present　from　his　father；　brought　back　from　his　campaign　under　Otchakov。　All　Prince　Andrey’s　belongings　for　the　journey　were　in　good　order；　everything　was　new　and　clean；　in　cloth　covers；　carefully　fastened　with　tape。
At　moments　of　starting　off　and　beginning　a　different　life；　persons　given　to　deliberating　on　their　actions　are　usually　apt　to　be　in　a　serious　frame　of　mind。　At　such　moments　one　reviews　the　past　and　forms　plans　for　the　future。　The　face　of　Prince　Andrey　was　very　dreamy　and　tender。　Clasping　his　hands　behind　him；　he　walked　rapidly　up　and　down　the　room　from　corner　to　corner　looking　straight　before　him　and　dreamily　shaking　his　head。　Whether　he　felt　dread　at　going　to　the　war；　or　grief　at　forsaking　his　wife　or　possibly　something　of　both—he　evidently　did　not　care　to　be　seen　in　that　mood；　for；　catching　the　sound　of　footsteps　in　the　outer　room；　he　hastily　unclasped　his　hands；　stood　at　the　table；　as　though　engaged　in　fastening　the　cover　of　the　case；　and　assumed　his　habitual　calm　and　impenetrable　expression。　It　was　the　heavy　step　of　Princess　Marya。
“They　told　me　you　had　ordered　the　horses　to　be　put　in；”　she　said；　panting　（she　had　evidently　been　running）；　“and　I　did　so　want　to　have　a　little　more　talk　with　you　alone。　God　knows　how　long　we　shall　be　parted　again。　You’re　not　angry　with　me　for　coming？　You’re　very　much　changed；　Andryusha；”　she　added；　as　though　to　explain　the　question。
She　smiled　as　she　uttered　the　word　“Andryusha。”　It　was　obviously　strange　to　her　to　think　that　this　stern；　handsome　man　was　the　same　as　the　thin；　mischievous　boy；　the　Andryusha　who　had　been　the　companion　of　her　childhood。
“And　where’s　Liza？”　he　asked；　only　answering　her　question　by　a　smile。
“She　was　so　tired　that　she　fell　asleep　on　the　sofa　in　my　room。　Oh　Andrey；　what　a　treasure　of　a　wife　you　have；”　she　said；　sitting　down　on　the　sofa；　facing　her　brother。　“She　is　a　perfect　child；　such　a　sweet；　merry　child。　I　like　her　so　much。”　Prince　Andrey　did　not　speak；　but　the　princess　noticed　the　ironical　and　contemptuous　expression　that　came　into　his　face。
“But　one　must　be　indulgent　to　little　weaknesses。　Who　is　free　from　them；　Andrey？　You　mustn’t　forget　that　she　has　grown　up　and　been　educated　in　society。　And　then　her　position　is　not　a　very　cheerful　one。　One　must　put　oneself　in　every　one’s　position。　To　understand　everything　is　to　forgive　everything。　Only　think　what　it　must　be　for　her；　poor　girl；　after　the　life　she　has　been　used　to；　to　part　from　her　husband　and　be　left　alone　in　the　country；　and　in　her　condition　too。　It’s　very　hard。”
Prince　Andrey　smiled；　looking　at　his　sister　as　we　smile　listening　to　people　whom　we　fancy　we　see　through。
“You　live　in　the　country　and　think　the　life　so　awful？”　he　said。
“I—that’s　a　different　matter。　Why　bring　me　in？　I　don’t　wish　for　any　other　life；　and　indeed　I　can’t　wish　for　anything　different；　for　I　know　no　other　sort　of　life。　But　only　think；　Andrey；　what　it　is　for　a　young　woman　used　to　fashionable　society　to　be　buried　for　the　best　years　of　her　life　in　the　country；　alone；　because　papa　is　always　busy；　and　I　…　you　know　me　…　I　am　not　a　cheerful　companion　for　women　used　to　the　best　society。　Mademoiselle　Bourienne　is　the　only　person　…”
“I　don’t　like　her　at　all；　your　Bourienne；”　said　Prince　Andrey。
“Oh；　no！　she’s　a　very　good　and　sweet　girl；　and　what’s　more；　she’s　very　much　to　be　pitied。　She　has　nobody；　nobody。　To　tell　the　truth；　she　is　of　no　use　to　me；　but　only　in　my　way。　I　have　always；　you　know；　been　a　solitary　creature；　and　now　I’m　getting　more　and　more　so。　I　like　to　be　alone　…　Mon　père　likes　her　very　much。　She　and　Mihail　Ivanovitch　are　the　two　people　he　is　always　friendly　and　good…tempered　with；　because　he　has　been　a　benefactor　to　both　of　them；　as　Sterne　says：　‘We　don’t　love　people　so　much　for　the　good　they　have　done　us　as　for　the　good　we　have　done　them。’　Mon　père　picked　her　up　an　orphan　in　the　streets；　and　she’s　very　good…natured。　And　mon　père　likes　her　way　of　reading。　She　reads　aloud　to　him　in　the　evenings。　She　reads　very　well。”
“Come；　tell　me　the　truth；　Marie；　you　suffer　a　good　deal；　I　expect；　sometimes　from　our　father’s　character？”　Prince　Andrey　asked　suddenly。　Princess　Marya　was　at　first　amazed；　then　aghast　at　the　question。
“Me？…me？…me　suffer！”　she　said。
“He　was　always　harsh；　but　he’s　growing　very　tedious；　I　should　think；”　said　Prince　Andrey；　speaking　so　slightingly　of　his　father　with　an　unmistakable　intention　either　of　puzzling　or　of　testing　his　sister。
“You　are　good　in　every　way；　Andrey；　but　you　have　a　sort　of　pride　of　intellect；”　said　the　princess；　evidently　following　her　own　train　of　thought　rather　than　the　thread　of　the　conversation；　“and　that’s　a　great　sin。　Do　you　think　it　right　to　judge　our　father？　But　if　it　were　right；　what　feeling　but　vénération　could　be　aroused　by　such　a　man　as　mon　père？　And　I　am　so　contented　and　happy　with　him。　I　could　only　wish　you　were　all　as　happy　as　I　am。”
Her　brother　shook　his　head　incredulously。
“The　only　thing　that　troubles　me；—I’ll　tell　you　the　truth；　Andrey；—　is　our　father’s　way　of　thinking　in　religious　matters。　I　can’t　understand　how　a　man　of　such　immense　intellect　can　fail　to　see　what　is　as　clear　as　day；　and　can　fall　into　such　error。　That　is　the　one　thing　that　makes　me　unhappy。　But　even　in　this　I　see　a　slight　change　for　the　better　of　late。　Lately　his　jeers　have　not　been　so　bitter；　and　there　is　a　monk　whom　he　received　and　talked　to　a　long　time。”
“Well；　my　dear；　I’m　afraid　you　and　your　monk　are　wasting　your　powder　and　shot；”　Prince　Andrey　said　ironically　but　affectionately。
“Ah；　mon　ami！　I　can　only　pray　to　God　and　trust　that　He　will　hear　me。　Andrey；”　she　said　timidly　after　a　minute’s　silence；　“I　have　a　great　favour　to　ask　of　you。”
“What　is　it；　dear？”
“No；　promise　me　you　won’t　refuse。　It　will　be　no　trouble　to　you；　and　there　is　nothing　beneath　you　in　it。　Only　it　will　be　a　comfort　to　me。　Promise；　Andryusha；”　she　said；　putting　her　hand　into　her　reticule　and　holding　something　in　it；　but　not　showing　it　yet；　as　though　what　she　was　holding　was　the　object　of　her　entreaty；　and　before　she　received　a　promise　to　grant　it；　she　could　not　take　that　something　out　of　her　reticule。　She