战争与和平(上)-第74章

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“Why；　what　is　the　matter？”　inquired　both　the　Rostovs；　young　and　old　together。
Anna　Mihalovna　heaved　a　deep　sigh。
“Dolohov；　Marya　Ivanovna’s　son；”　she　said　in　a　mysterious　whisper；　“has；　they　say；　utterly　compromised　her。　He　brought　him　forward；　invited　him　to　his　house　in　Petersburg；　and　now　this！　…　She　has　come　here；　and　that　scapegrace　has　come　after　her；”　said　Anna　Mihalovna。　She　wished　to　express　nothing　but　sympathy　with　Pierre；　but　in　her　involuntary　intonations　and　half　smile；　she　betrayed　her　sympathy　with　the　scapegrace；　as　she　called　Dolohov。　“Pierre　himself；　they　say；　is　utterly　crushed　by　his　trouble。”
“Well；　any　way；　tell　him　to　come　to　the　club—it　will　divert　his　mind。　It　will　be　a　banquet　on　a　grand　scale。”
On　the　next　day；　the　3rd　of　March；　at　about　two　in　the　afternoon；　the　two　hundred　and　fifty　members　of　the　English　Club　and　fifty　of　their　guests　were　awaiting　the　arrival　of　their　honoured　guest；　the　hero　of　the　Austrian　campaign；　Prince　Bagration。
On　receiving　the　news　of　the　defeat　of　Austerlitz；　all　Moscow　had　at　first　been　thrown　into　bewilderment。　At　that　period　the　Russians　were　so　used　to　victories；　that　on　receiving　news　of　a　defeat；　some　people　were　simply　incredulous；　while　others　sought　an　explanation　of　so　strange　an　event　in　exceptional　circumstances　of　some　kind。　At　the　English　Club；　where　every　one　of　note；　every　one　who　had　authentic　information　and　weight　gathered　together；　during　December；　when　the　news　began　to　arrive；　not　a　word　was　said　about　the　war　and　about　the　last　defeat；　it　was　as　though　all　were　in　a　conspiracy　of　silence。　The　men　who　took　the　lead　in　conversation　at　the　club；　such　as　Count　Rostoptchin；　Prince　Yury　Vladimirovitch　Dolgoruky；　Valuev；　Count　Markov；　and　Prince　Vyazemsky；　did　not　put　in　an　appearance　at　the　club；　but　met　together　in　their　intimate　circles　at　each　other’s　houses。
That　section　of　Moscow　society　which　took　its　opinions　from　others　（to　which；　indeed；　Count　Ilya　Andreivitch　Rostov　belonged）　remained　for　a　short　time　without　leaders　and　without　definite　views　upon　the　progress　of　the　war。　People　felt　in　Moscow　that　something　was　wrong；　and　that　it　was　difficult　to　know　what　to　think　of　the　bad　news；　and　so　better　to　be　silent。　But　a　little　later；　like　jurymen　coming　out　of　their　consultation　room；　the　leaders　reappeared　to　give　their　opinion　in　the　club；　and　a　clear　and　definite　formula　was　found。　Causes　had　been　discovered　to　account　for　the　fact—so　incredible；　unheard…of；　and　impossible—that　the　Russians　had　been　beaten；　and　all　became　clear；　and　the　same　version　was　repeated　from　one　end　of　Moscow　to　the　other。　These　causes　were：　the　treachery　of　the　Austrians；　the　defective　commissariat；　the　treachery　of　the　Pole　Przhebyshevsky　and　the　Frenchman　Langeron；　the　incapacity　of　Kutuzov；　and　（this　was　murmured　in　subdued　tones）　the　youth　and　inexperience　of　the　Emperor；　who　had　put　faith　in　men　of　no　character　and　ability。　But　the　army；　the　Russian　army；　said　every　one；　had　been　extraordinary；　and　had　performed　miracles　of　valour。　The　soldiers；　the　officers；　the　generals—all　were　heroes。　But　the　hero　among　heroes　was　Prince　Bagration；　who　had　distinguished　himself　in　his　Sch？ngraben　engagement　and　in　the　retreat　from　Austerlitz；　where　he　alone　had　withdrawn　his　column　in　good　order；　and　had　succeeded　in　repelling　during　the　whole　day　an　enemy　twice　as　numerous。　What　contributed　to　Bagration’s　being　chosen　for　the　popular　hero　at　Moscow　was　the　fact　that　he　was　an　outsider；　that　he　had　no　connections　in　Moscow。　In　his　person　they　could　do　honour　to　the　simple　fighting　Russian　soldier；　unsupported　by　connections　and　intrigues；　and　still　associated　by　memories　of　the　Italian　campaign　with　the　name　of　Suvorov。　And　besides；　bestowing　upon　him　such　honours　was　the　best　possible　way　of　showing　their　dislike　and　disapproval　of　Kutuzov。
“If　there　had　been　no　Bagration；　somebody　would　have　to　invent　him；”　said　the　wit；　Shinshin；　parodying　the　words　of　Voltaire。
Of　Kutuzov　people　did　not　speak　at　all；　or　whispered　abuse　of　him；　calling　him　the　court　weathercock　and　the　old　satyr。
All　Moscow　was　repeating　the　words　of　Prince　Dolgorukov：　“Chop　down　trees　enough　and　you’re　bound　to　cut　your　finger；”　which　in　our　defeat　suggested　a　consolatory　reminder　of　former　victories；　and　the　saying　of　Rostoptchin；　that　French　soldiers　have　to　be　excited　to　battle　by　high…sounding　phrases；　that　Germans　must　have　it　logically　proved　to　them　that　it　is　more　dangerous　to　run　away　than　to　go　forward；　but　that　all　Russian　soldiers　need　is　to　be　held　back　and　urged　not　to　be　too　reckless！　New　anecdotes　were　continually　to　be　heard　on　every　side　of　individual　feats　of　gallantry　performed　by　our　officers　and　men　at　Austerlitz。　Here　a　man　had　saved　a　flag；　another　had　killed　five　Frenchmen；　another　had　kept　five　cannons　loaded　single…handed。　The　story　was　told　of　Berg；　by　those　who　did　not　know　him；　that　wounded　in　his　right　hand；　he　had　taken　his　sword　in　his　left　and　charged　on　the　enemy。　Nothing　was　said　about　Bolkonsky；　and　only　those　who　had　known　him　intimately　regretted　that　he　had　died　so　young；　leaving　a　wife　with　child；　and　his　queer　old　father。


Chapter　3
ON　THE　3RD　OF　MARCH　all　the　rooms　of　the　English　Club　were　full　of　the　hum　of　voices；　and　the　members　and　guests　of　the　club；　in　uniforms　and　frock…coats；　some　even　in　powder　and　Russian　kaftans；　were　standing　meeting；　parting；　and　running　to　and　fro　like　bees　swarming　in　spring。　Powdered　footmen　in　livery；　wearing　slippers　and　stockings；　stood　at　every　door；　anxiously　trying　to　follow　every　movement　of　the　guests　and　club　members；　so　as　to　proffer　their　services。　The　majority　of　those　present　were　elderly　and　respected　persons；　with　broad；　self…confident　faces；　fat　fingers；　and　resolute　gestures　and　voices。　Guests　and　members　of　this　class　sat　in　certain　habitual　places；　and　met　together　in　certain　habitual　circles。　A　small　proportion　of　those　present　were　casual　guests—chiefly　young　men；　among　them　Denisov；　Rostov；　and　Dolohov；　who　was　now　an　officer　in　the　Semyonovsky　regiment　again。　The　faces　of　the　younger　men；　especially　the　officers；　wore　that　expression　of　condescending　deference　to　their　elders　which　seems　to　say　to　the　older　generation；　“Respect　and　deference　we　are　prepared　to　give　you；　but　remember　all　the　same　the　future　is　for　us。”　Nesvitsky；　an　old　member　of　the　club；　was　there　too。　Pierre；　who　at　his　wife’s　command　had　let　his　hair　grow　and　left　off　spectacles；　was　walking　about　the　rooms　dressed　in　the　height　of　the　fashion；　but　looking　melancholy　and　depressed。　Here；　as　everywhere；　he　was　surrounded　by　the　atmosphere　of　people　paying　homage　to　his　wealth；　and　he　behaved　to　them　with　the　careless；　contemptuous　air　of　sovereignty　that　had　become　habitual　with　him。
In　years；　he　belonged　to　the　younger　generation；　but　by　his　wealth　and　connections　he　was　a　member　of　the　older　circles；　and　so　he　passed　from　one　set　to　the　other。　The　most　distinguished　of　the　elder　members　formed　the　centres　of　circles；　which　even　strangers　respectfully　approached　to　listen　to　the　words　of　well…known　men。　The　larger　groups　were　formed　round　Count　Rostoptchin；　Valuev；　and　Naryshkin。　Rostoptchin　was　describing　how　the　Russians　had　been　trampled　underfoot　by　the　fleeing　Austrians；　and　had　had　to　force　a　way　with　the　bayonet　through　the　fugitives。　Valuev　was　confidentially　informing　his　circle　that　Uvarov　had　been　sent　from　Petersburg　to　ascertain　the　state　of　opinion　in　Moscow　in　regard　to　Austerlitz。
In　the　third　group　Naryshkin　was　repeating　the　tale　of　the　meeting　of　the　Austrian　council　of　war；　at　which；　in　reply　to　the　stupidity　of　the　Austrian　general；　Suvorov　crowed　like　a　cock。　Shinshin；　who　stood　near；　tried　to　make　a　joke；　saying　that　Kutuzov；　it　seemed；　had　not　even　been　able　to　learn　from　Suvorov　that　not　very　difficult　art　of　crowing　like　a　cock—but　the　elder　club　members　looked　sternly　at　the　wit；　giving　him　thereby　to　understand　that　even　such　a　reference　to　Kutuzov　was　out　of　place　on　that　day。
Count　Ilya　Andreitch　Rostov　kept　anxiously　hurrying　in　his　soft　boots　to　and　fro　from　the　dining…room　to　the　drawing…room；　giving　hasty　greetings　to　important　and　unimportant　persons；　all　of　whom　he　knew；　and　all　of　whom　he　treated　alike；　on　an　equal　footing。　Now　and　then　his　eyes　sought　out　the　graceful；　dashing　figure　of　his　young　son；　rested　gleefully　on　him；　and　winked　to　him。　Young　Rostov　was　standing　at　the　window　with　Dolohov；　whose　acquaintance　he　had　lately　made；　and　greatly　prized。　The　old　count　went　up　to　them；　and　shook　hands　with　Dolohov。
“I　beg　you　will　come　and　see　us；　so　you’re　a　friend　of　my　youngster’s　…　been　together；　playing　the　hero　together　out　there。…　Ah！　Vassily　Ignatitch　…　a　good　day　to　you；　old　man；”　he　turned　to　an　old　gentleman　who　had　just　come　in；　but　before　he　had　time　to　finish　his　greetings　to　him　there　was　a　general　stir；　and　a　footman　running　in　with　an　alarmed　countenance；　announced：　“He　had　arrived！”
Bells　rang；　the　stewards　rushed　forward；　the　guests；　scattered　about　the　different　rooms；　gathered　together　in　one　mass；　like　rye　shaken　together　in　a　shovel；　and　waited　at　the　door　of　the　great　drawing…room。
At　the　door　of　the　ante…room　appeared　the　figure　of　Bagration；　without　his　hat　or　sword；　which；　in　accordance　with　the　club　custom；　he　had　left　with　the　hall　porter。　He　was　not　wearing　an　Astrachan　cap；　and　had　not　a　riding…whip　over　his　shoulder；　as　Rostov　had　seen　him　on　the　night　before　the　battle　of　Austerlitz；　but　wore　a　tight　new　uniform　with　Russian　and　foreign　orders　and　the　star　of　St。　George　on　the　left　side　of　his　chest。　He　had；　obviously　with　a　view　to　the　banquet；　just　had　his　hair　cut　and　his　whiskers　clipped；　which　changed　his　appearance　for　the　worse。　He　had　a　sort　of　na？vely　festive　air；　which；　in　conjunction　with　his　determined；　manly　features；　gave　an　expression　positively　rather　comic　to　his　face。　Bekleshov　and　Fyodor　Petrovitch　Uvarov；　who　had　come　with　him；　stood　still　in　the　doorway　trying　to　make　him；　as　the　guest　of　most　importance；　precede　them。　Bagration　was　embarrassed；　and　unwilling　to　avail　himself　of　their　courtesy；　there　was　a　hitch　in　the　proceedings　at　the　door；　but　finally　Bagration　did；　after　all；　enter　first。　He　walked　shyly　and　awkwardly　over　the　parquet　of　the　reception…room；　not　knowing　what　to　do　with　his　hands。　He　would　have　been　more　at　home　and　at　his　ease　walking　over　a　ploughed　field　under　fire；　as　he　had　walked　at　the　head　of　the　Kursk　regiment　at　Sch？ngraben。　The　stewards　met　him　at　the　first　door；　and　saying　a　few　words　of　their　pleasure　at　seeing　such　an　honoured　guest；　they　surrounded　him　without　waiting　for　an　answer；　and；　as　it　were；　taking　possession　of　him；　led　him　off　to　the　drawing…room。　There　was　no　possibility　of　getting　in　at　the　drawing…room　door　from　the　crowds　of　members　and　guests；　who　were　crushing　one　another　in　their　efforts　to　get　a　look　over　each　other’s　shoulders　at　Bagration；　as　if　he　were　some　rare　sort　of　beast。　Count　Ilya　Andreitch　laughed　more　vigorously　than　any　one；　and　continually　repeating；　“Make　way　for　him；　my　dear　boy；　make　way；　make　way；”　shoved　the　crowd　aside；　led　the　guests　into　the　drawing…room；　and　seated　them　on　the　sofa　in　the　middle　of　it。　The　great　men；　and　the　more　ho