战争与和平(上)-第58章

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“Oh；　why？”
“Ah；　what　a　pig　I’ve　been；　never　once　to　have　written　and　to　have　given　them　such　a　fright。　Ah；　what　a　pig　I　am！”　he　repeated；　flushing　all　at　once。　“Well；　did　you　send　Gavrila　for　some　wine？　That’s　right；　let’s　have　some！”　said　he。
With　the　letters　from　his　family　there　had　been　inserted　a　letter　of　recommendation　to　Prince　Bagration；　by　Anna　Mihalovna’s　advice；　which　Countess　Rostov　had　obtained　through　acquaintances；　and　had　sent　to　her　son；　begging　him　to　take　it　to　its　address；　and　to　make　use　of　it。
“What　nonsense！　Much　use　to　me；”　said　Rostov；　throwing　the　letter　under　the　table。
“What　did　you　throw　that　away　for？”　asked　Boris。
“It’s　a　letter　of　recommendation　of　some　sort；　what　the　devil　do　I　want　with　a　letter　like　that！”
“What　the　devil　do　you　want　with　it？”　said　Boris；　picking　it　up　and　reading　the　address；　“that　letter　would　be　of　great　use　to　you。”
“I’m　not　in　want　of　anything；　and　I’m　not　going　to　be　an　adjutant　to　anybody。”
“Why　not？”　asked　Boris。
“A　lackey’s　duty。”
“You　are　just　as　much　of　an　idealist　as　ever；　I　see；”　said　Boris；　shaking　his　head。
“And　you’re　just　as　much　of　a　diplomat。　But　that’s　not　the　point。　…　Come；　how　are　you？”　asked　Rostov。
“Why；　as　you　see。　So　far　everything’s　gone　well；　but　I’ll　own　I　should　be　very　glad　to　get　a　post　as　adjutant；　and　not　to　stay　in　the　line。”
“What　for？”
“Why；　because　if　once　one　goes　in　for　a　military　career；　one　ought　to　try　to　make　it　as　successful　a　career　as　one　can。”
“Oh；　that’s　it；”　said　Rostov；　unmistakably　thinking　of　something　else。　He　looked　intently　and　inquiringly　into　his　friend’s　eyes；　apparently　seeking　earnestly　the　solution　of　some　question。
Old　Gavrila　brought　in　the　wine。
“Shouldn’t　we　send　for　Alphonse　Karlitch　now？”　said　Boris。　“He’ll　drink　with　you；　but　I　can’t。”
“Send　for　him；　send　for　him。　Well；　how　do　you　get　on　with　the　Teuton？”　said　Rostov；　with　a　contemptuous　smile。
“He’s　a　very；　very　nice；　honest；　and　pleasant　fellow；”　said　Boris。
Rostov　looked　intently　into　Boris’s　face　once　more　and　he　sighed。　Berg　came　back；　and　over　the　bottle　the　conversation　between　the　three　officers　became　livelier。　The　guardsmen　told　Rostov　about　their　march　and　how　they　had　been　fêted　in　Russia；　in　Poland；　and　abroad。　They　talked　of　the　sayings　and　doings　of　their　commander；　the　Grand　Duke；　and　told　anecdotes　of　his　kind…heartedness　and　his　irascibility。　Berg　was　silent；　as　he　always　was；　when　the　subject　did　not　concern　him　personally；　but　à　propos　of　the　irascibility　of　the　Grand　Duke　he　related　with　gusto　how　he　had　had　some　words　with　the　Grand　Duke　in　Galicia；　when　his　Highness　had　inspected　the　regiments　and　had　flown　into　a　rage　over　some　irregularity　in　their　movements。　With　a　bland　smile　on　his　face　he　described　how　the　Grand　Duke　had　ridden　up　to　him　in　a　violent　rage；　shouting　“Arnauts！”　（“Arnauts”　was　the　Tsarevitch’s　favourite　term　of　abuse　when　he　was　in　a　passion）；　and　how　he　had　asked　for　the　captain。　“Would　you　believe　me；　count；　I　wasn’t　in　the　least　alarmed；　because　I　knew　I　was　right。　Without　boasting；　you　know；　count；　I　may　say　I　know　all　the　regimental　drill…book　by　heart；　and　the　standing　orders；　too；　I　know　as　I　know　‘Our　Father　that　art　in　Heaven。’　And　so　that’s　how　it　is；　count；　there’s　never　the　slightest　detail　neglected　in　my　company。　So　my　conscience　was　at　ease。　I　came　forward。”　（Berg　stood　up　and　mimicked　how　he　had　come　forward　with　his　hand　to　the　beak　of　his　cap。　It　would　certainly　have　been　difficult　to　imagine　more　respectfulness　and　more　self…complacency　in　a　face。）　“Well；　he　scolded；　and　scolded；　and　rated　at　me；　and　shouted　his　‘Arnauts；’　and　damns；　and　‘to　Siberia；’　”　said　Berg；　with　a　subtle　smile。　“I　knew　I　was　right；　and　so　I　didn’t　speak；　how　could　I；　count？　‘Why　are　you　dumb？’　he　shouted。　Still　I　held　my　tongue；　and　what　do　you　think；　count？　Next　day　there　was　nothing　about　it　in　the　orders　of　the　day；　that’s　what　comes　of　keeping　one’s　head。　Yes；　indeed；　count；”　said　Berg；　pulling　at　his　pipe　and　letting　off　rings　of　smoke。
“Yes；　that’s　capital；”　said　Rostov；　smiling；　but　Boris；　seeing　that　Rostov　was　disposed　to　make　fun　of　Berg；　skilfully　turned　the　conversation。　He　begged　Rostov　to　tell　them　how　and　where　he　had　been　wounded。　That　pleased　Rostov；　and　he　began　telling　them；　getting　more　and　more　eager　as　he　talked。　He　described　to　them　his　battle　at　Sch？ngraben　exactly　as　men　who　have　taken　part　in　battles　always　do　describe　them；　that　is；　as　they　would　have　liked　them　to　be；　as　they　have　heard　them　described　by　others；　and　as　sounds　well；　but　not　in　the　least　as　it　really　had　been。　Rostov　was　a　truthful　young　man；　he　would　not　have　intentionally　told　a　lie。　He　began　with　the　intention　of　telling　everything　precisely　as　it　had　happened；　but　imperceptibly；　unconsciously；　and　inevitably　he　passed　into　falsehood。　If　he　had　told　the　truth　to　his　listeners；　who；　like　himself；　had　heard　numerous　descriptions　of　cavalry　charges；　and　had　formed　a　definite　idea　of　what　a　charge　was　like　and　were　expecting　a　similar　description；　either　they　would　not　have　believed　him；　or　worse　still；　would　have　assumed　that　Rostov　was　himself　to　blame　for　not　having　performed　the　exploits　usually　performed　by　those　who　describe　cavalry　charges。　He　could　not　tell　them　simply　that　they　had　all　been　charging　full　gallop；　that　he　had　fallen　off　his　horse；　sprained　his　arm；　and　run　with　all　his　might　away　from　the　French　into　the　copse。　And　besides；　to　tell　everything　exactly　as　it　happened；　he　would　have　had　to　exercise　considerable　self…control　in　order　to　tell　nothing　beyond　what　happened。　To　tell　the　truth　is　a　very　difficult　thing；　and　young　people　are　rarely　capable　of　it。　His　listeners　expected　to　hear　how　he　bad　been　all　on　fire　with　excitement；　had　forgotten　himself；　had　flown　like　a　tempest　on　the　enemy’s　square；　had　cut　his　way　into　it；　hewing　men　down　right　and　left；　how　a　sabre　had　been　thrust　into　his　flesh；　how　he　had　fallen　unconscious；　and　so　on。　And　he　described　all　that。　In　the　middle　of　his　tale；　just　as　he　was　saying：　“You　can’t　fancy　what　a　strange　frenzy　takes　possession　of　one　at　the　moment　of　the　charge；”　there　walked　into　the　room　Prince　Andrey　Bolkonsky；　whom　Boris　was　expecting。　Prince　Andrey　liked　to　encourage　and　assist　younger　men；　he　was　flattered　at　being　applied　to　for　his　influence；　and　well　disposed　to　Boris；　who　had　succeeded　in　making　a　favourable　impression　on　him　the　previous　day；　he　was　eager　to　do　for　the　young　man　what　he　desired。　Having　been　sent　with　papers　from　Kutuzov　to　the　Tsarevitch；　he　called　upon　Boris；　hoping　to　find　him　alone。　When　he　came　into　the　room　and　saw　the　hussar　with　his　soldierly　swagger　describing　his　warlike　exploits　（Prince　Andrey　could　not　endure　the　kind　of　men　who　are　fond　of　doing　so）；　he　smiled　cordially　to　Boris；　but　frowned　and　dropped　his　eyelids　as　he　turned　to　Rostov　with　a　slight　bow。　Wearily　and　languidly　he　sat　down　on　the　sofa；　regretting　that　he　had　dropped　into　such　undesirable　society。　Rostov；　perceiving　it；　grew　hot；　but　he　did　not　care；　this　man　was　nothing　to　him。　Glancing　at　Boris；　he　saw；　however；　that　he　too　seemed　ashamed　of　the　valiant　hussar。　In　spite　of　Prince　Andrey’s　unpleasant；　ironical　manner；　in　spite　of　the　disdain　with　which　Rostov；　from　his　point　of　view　of　a　fighting　man　in　the　regular　army；　regarded　the　whole　race　of　staff…adjutants　in　general—the　class　to　which　the　new…comer　unmistakably　belonged—he　yet　felt　abashed；　reddened；　and　subsided　into　silence。　Boris　inquired　what　news　there　was　on　the　staff　and　whether　he　could　not　without　indiscretion　tell　them　something　about　our　plans。
“Most　likely　they　will　advance；”　answered　Bolkonsky；　obviously　unwilling　to　say　more　before　outsiders。　Berg　seized　the　opportunity　to　inquire　with　peculiar　deference　whether　the　report　was　true；　as　he　had　heard；　that　the　allowance　of　forage　to　captains　of　companies　was　to　be　doubled。　To　this　Prince　Andrey　replied　with　a　smile　that　he　could　not　presume　to　offer　an　opinion　on　state　questions　of　such　gravity；　and　Berg　laughed　with　delight。
“As　to　your　business；”　Prince　Andrey　turned　back　to　Boris；　“we　will　talk　of　it　later；”　and　he　glanced　at　Rostov。　“You　come　to　me　after　the　review；　and　we’ll　do　what　we　can。”　And　looking　round　the　room　he　addressed　Rostov；　whose　childish；　uncontrollable　embarrassment；　passing　now　into　anger；　he　did　not　think　fit　to　notice：　“You　were　talking；　I　think；　about　the　Sch？ngraben　action？　Were　you　there？”
“I　was　there；”　Rostov　said　in　a　tone　of　exasperation；　which　he　seemed　to　intend　as　an　insult　to　the　adjutant。　Bolkonsky　noticed　the　hussar’s　state　of　mind；　and　it　seemed　to　amuse　him。　He　smiled　rather　disdainfully。
“Ah！　there　are　a　great　many　stories　now　about　that　engagement。”
“Yes；　stories！”　said　Rostov　loudly；　looking　from　Boris　to　Bolkonsky　with　eyes　full　of　sudden　fury；　“a　great　many　stories；　I　dare　say；　but　our　stories　are　the　stories　of　men　who　have　been　under　the　enemy’s　fire；　our　stories　have　some　weight；　they’re　not　the　tales　of　little　staff　upstarts；　who　draw　pay　for　doing　nothing。”
“The　class　to　which　you　assume　me　to　belong；”　said　Prince　Andrey；　with　a　calm　and　particularly　amiable　smile。
A　strange　feeling　of　exasperation　was　mingled　in　Rostov’s　heart　with　respect　for　the　self…possession　of　this　person。
“I’m　not　talking　about　you；”　he　said；　“I　don’t　know　you；　and；　I’ll　own；　I　don’t　want　to。　I’m　speaking　of　staff…officers　in　general。”
“Let　me　tell　you　this；”　Prince　Andrey　cut　him　short　in　a　tone　of　quiet　authority；　“you　are　trying　to　insult　me；　and　I’m　ready　to　agree　with　you　that　it　is　very　easy　to　do　so；　if　you　haven’t　sufficient　respect　for　yourself。　But　you　will　agree　that　the　time　and　place　is　ill…chosen　for　this　squabble。　In　a　day　or　two　we　have　to　take　part　in　a　great　and　more　serious　duel；　and　besides；　Drubetskoy；　who　tells　me　he　is　an　old　friend　of　yours；　is　in　no　way　to　blame　because　my　physiognomy　is　so　unfortunate　as　to　displease　you。　However；”　he　said；　getting　up；　“you　know　my　name；　and　know　where　to　find　me；　but　don’t　forget；”　he　added；　“that　I　don’t　consider　either　myself　or　you　insulted；　and　my　advice；　as　a　man　older　than　you；　is　to　let　the　matter　drop。　So　on　Friday；　after　the　review；　I　shall　expect　you；　Drubetskoy；　good…bye　till　then；”　cried　Prince　Andrey；　and　he　went　out；　bowing　to　both。
Rostov　only　bethought　him　of　what　he　ought　to　have　answered　when　he　had　gone。　And　he　was　more　furious　still　that　he　had　not　thought　of　saying　it。　He　ordered　his　horse　to　be　brought　round　at　once；　and　taking　leave　of　Boris　coldly；　he　rode　back。　Whether　to　ride　to…morrow　to　head…quarters　and　challenge　that　conceited　adjutant；　or　whether　really　to　let　the　matter　drop；　was　the　question　that　worried　him　all　the　way。　At　one　moment　he　thought　vindictively　how　he　would　enjoy　seeing　the　fright　that　feeble；　little；　conceited　fellow　would　be　in；　facing　his　pistol；　at　the　next　he　was　feeling　with　surprise　that；　of　all　the　men　he　knew；　there　was　no　one　he　would　be　more　glad　to　have　for　his　friend　than　that　detested　little　adjutant。


Chapter　8
THE　DAY　AFTER　ROSTOV’S　VISIT　to　Boris；　the　review　took　place　of　the　Austrian　and　Russian　troops；　both　the　reinforcements　freshly