The complete works of Count Tolstoy. Vol. 7

Translated from the Original Russian and edited by Leo Wiener

Assittant Professor of Slavic Languages at Harvard University

BOSTON £ DANA ESTES & COMPANY £ PUBLISHERS

WAR AND PEACE

1864-1869

Parts IX., X., and XI.

PART THE NINTH

I.

Toward the end of the year 1811 the Powers of Western Europe began a more active armament and concentration of their forces, and in 1812 these forces, consisting of millions of people (including those who transported and fed the army), moved from the West to the East, toward the boundaries of Russia, where, since the same year 1811, the Russian forces had been concentrating. On the 12th of June the forces of Western Europe crossed the boundaries of Russia, and the war began, that is, there took place an event which was contrary to human reason and to all human nature. Millions of people committed against each other an endless number of evil acts, deceits, treasons, thefts, forgery and the putting into circulation of spurious assignats, assaults, incendiarism, and murders, such as the chronicles of all the courts of the world will not record in ages, and yet such as at that time were not looked upon as crimes by the people who committed them.

What was it that had caused this extraordinary event ? What were its causes ? The historians say, with naïve conviction, that the causes of this event were the insult

offered to the Duke ok Oldenburg, the non-observance ok the continental system, Napoleon’s ambition, Alexander’s firmness, the mistakes of the diplomats, etc.

Consequently, it would have sufficed for Metternich, Rumyäntsev, or Talleyrand, between the appearance of the emperors at court and the receptions, to have made an effort and written a clever note, or for Napoleon to have written to Alexander, ” Monsieur mon frère, je consens à rendre le duché au Duc d’Oldenbourg,” and there would have been no war.

Naturally, the matter so appeared to the contemporaries. Naturally, it seemed to Napoleon that the cause of the war lay in the intrigues of England (as he expressed himself on the island of St. Helena). Naturally, it seemed to the members of the English Parliament that Napoleon’s ambition was the cause of the war ; to the Duke of Oldenburg that the cause of war lay in the insult to which he had been subjected ; to the merchants, that the cause of war lay in the continental system which was ruining Europe; to the old soldiers and generals, that the chief cause was to give them employment; to the legitimists of that time, that it was necessary to reestablish les bons principes ; and to the diplomatists of that time, that everything was due to the fact that Russia’s alliance with Austria in the year 1809 had not been kept sufficiently secret from Napoleon, and that the memorandum No. 178 had been awkwardly composed. Naturally, these causes and an endless, inexhaustible number of other causes, which number depends on the endless variety of standpoints, presented themselves to the contemporaries ; but to us, the descendants, who contemplate the grandeur of the event in all its volume, and who try to comprehend its simple and terrible meaning, these causes appear insufficient. It is incomprehensible to us that millions of Christians should have’killed each other because Napoleon was ambitious, Alexander firm, the diplomacy of England insidious, and the Duke of Oldenburg insulted. It is impossible to comprehend what connection these circumstances could have had with the fact of murder and violence itself ; why, because the duke had been insulted, thousands of people from the other end of Europe should have killed and ruined the people of the Governments of Smolénsk and Moscow, and should have been killed by them.

To us, the descendants, the non-historians, who are not carried away by the mere process of investigation, and who therefore contemplate the event with undimmed, healthy reason, the causes seem to be numberless. The more we devote ourselves to the investigation of the causes, the more of them are revealed to us, and all of them, taken singly, or a whole series of causes, appear to us equally just in themselves, and equally false on account of their insignificance in comparison with the grandeur of the event, and equally false on account of the impossibility of their having produced the event, without the participation of all other coincident causes. Napoleon’s refusal to take his army across the Vistula and to restore the dukedom of Oldenburg appears to us as no more a cause than the desire or reluctance of any French corporal to enlist for a second term, for, if he had refused to enter the service, and a second, third, and thousandth corporal and soldier had acted likewise, there would have been so many men less in Napoleon’s army, and there could have been no war.

If Napoleon had not been offended by the request to retreat beyond the Vistula and had not pommanded his troops to advance, there would have been no war; but, at the same time, if all the sergeants had been unwilling to reenlist, there could have been no war. Similarly there could have been no war, if there had been no English intrigues, and no Prince of Oldenburg, and no feeling of offence on the part of Alexander, and no autocratic power in Russia, and no French Revolution with the resulting dictatorship and empire, and all that which led up to the French Revolution, and so forth. Nothing could have happened in the absence of one of these causes. Consequently, all these causes, a billion causes, coincided in order to produce that which happened. Consequently, too, nothing was the exclusive cause of the event, and the event had to take place, because it had to. It was necessary for millions of people to renounce their human feelings and reason, and to march from the West to the East in order to kill their like, just as several centuries before throngs had come from the East to the West killing their like.

The actions of Napoleon and Alexander, on whose words it seemed to depend whether the event was to take place or not, were as little arbitrary as the action of any soldier who went into the campaign by lot or by recruitment. It could not have been otherwise because, in order that the will of Napoleon and Alexander (of those people on whom the event seemed to have depended) should be fulfilled, there was needed the coincidence of an endless number of circumstances, without one of which the event could not have occurred. It was necessary for millions of people, in the hands of whom was the real power, for the soldiers who fired, and who transported the provisions and the guns, to agree to do the will of a few weak individuals, and to be brought to do tins by an endless number of complicated, complex causes.

Fatalism in history is necessary for the explanation of unreasonable events, that is, of such as we do not comprehend the reason. The more reasonably we attempt to explain these phenomena in history, the more unreasonable and unintelligible they become to us.

Every man lives for himself, enjoys liberty of action in striving after his personal ainls, and feels in his whole being that he may, or may not, do such and such an act at will ; but the moment he has done it, this action, committed at a given moment of time, becomes irretrievable and the property of history, in which it has not a free, but a preordained, meaning.

There are two sides in the life of each man : Iris personal life, which is free in proportion as its interests are in the abstract, and his elemental, beehive life, where a man unavoidably executes certain prescribed laws.

Man lives consciously for himself, but serves as an unconscious weapon for the working out of historical, universal ends. An accomplished deed is irretrievable, and its action, coinciding in time with millions of actions of other men, assumes an historic importance. The higher a man stands in the social scale, the more numerous his relations are with other men, the greater is the power which he exercises over other men, and the more manifest is the preordination and inevitableness of his deed.

” The hearts of kings are in the hands of God.”

A king is a slave of history.

History, that is, the unconscious, general, beehive life of humanity, makes use of every minute of the lives of kings for itself, as a weapon for its own ends.

Though now, in the year 1812, it seemed to Napoleon that it more than ever depended upon him whether he would ” verser ” or ” ne pas verser le sang de ses peuples ” (as Alexander had written to him in his last letter), he never before had been so subjected to the inevitable laws which compelled him, though in respect to himself he thought he was acting at will, to do for the common course of events, for history, that which had to happen.

The men of the West moved toward the East to kill and be killed ; and, by the law of coincident causes, thousands of petty causes adapted themselves and coincided with this incident for the purpose of the movement and of the war: such were the dissatisfaction with the non-observance of the continental system ; and the Duke of Oldenburg ; and the movement of the armies into Prussia, undertaken, as Napoleon thought, simply in order to obtain armed peace ; and the love and bias of the French emperor for war, which coincided with the mood of his nation ; and the enthusiasm for the magnificence of the preparation ; and the expenses incurred for this preparation ; and the necessity of gaining such advantages as would recoup these expenses ; and the intoxicating honours which he had received in Dresden ; and the diplomatic negotiations which, in the opinion of the contemporaries, had been introduced with the sincere desire to obtain peace and which only wounded the self-love of both parties ; and a million millions of other causes, which adapted themselves and coincided with the event about to happen.

When an apple is ripe and falls, — what is it that makes it fall ? Is it because it gravitates toward the earth, because the stem has dried up, because the sun withers it, because it is too heavy, because the wind knocks it down, because the boy who is standing underneath it wants to eat it ?

Nothing is the cause of it. All is only the coincidence of conditions under which every vital, organic, elemental event takes place. The botanist who finds that the apple falls because the cellular tissue is decomposing, and so forth, is as much right as the little boy who, standing under the tree, will say that it fell because he wanted to eat it and because he had prayed for it. He who will say that Napoleon went to Moscow because he wanted to, and that he perished because Alexander had wished for his destruction, will be as right or as wrong as he who will say that an undermined mountain weighing a million puds was made to crumble by the stroke of the last labourer’s sledge-hammer. In historical events, so called great men are the tags which label them, and have as little to do with the events themselves, as real tags have to do with the substance which they label.

Every action of theirs, which seems to them dependent on their own free will, is, in the historical sense, not free, but stands in relation to the whole course of history and has been predetermined from eternity.

II.

On the 29th of May, Napoleon left Dresden, where he had passed three weeks, surrounded by a court of princes, dukes, kings, and even one emperor. Before his departure, Napoleon showed his favour to the princes, kings, and the emperor, who had deserved it, scolded the kings and princes with whom he was dissatisfied, presented to the Queen of Austria his personal pearls and diamonds, that is, such as he had taken away from other kings, and, tenderly embracing Empress Maria Theresa, as his historian says, left her disconsolate at this parting, which she, Maria Theresa, who regarded herself as his wife, although another wife was living in Paris, seemed to be unable to endure.

Although the diplomatists were still firmly convinced of the possibility of peace and zealously worked for it, although Emperor Napoleon himself wrote a letter to Emperor Alexander, calling him ” Monsieur mon frère ” and assuring him sincerely that he did not wish any war, and that he would always love and respect him, — he departed for the army and gave at each station new orders, the purpose of which was to hasten the movement of the army from the West to the East. He travelled in a roadcarriage drawn by six horses, surrounded by pages, adjutants, and a convoy, on the highway toward Posen, Thorn, Dantzic, and Königsberg. In each of these cities thousands of people met him with trepidation and with enthusiasm.

The army was moving from the West to the East, and relays of six-spans carried him, too, thither. On the 10th of June he caught up with the army and stayed overnight in the forest of Wilkowiski, in quarters especially prepared for him in the estate of a Polish count.

On the next day, Napoleon, outdistancing the army, reached the Nyéman in a small carriage. He dressed himself in a Polish uniform and drove out to the bank of the river to examine the place of fording.

Upon seeing on the other side “les Cosaques” and the expanse of the steppes, in the midst of which was ” Moscou, la ville sainte,’’ the capital of the empire which resembled the Scythian empire whither Alexander of Macedon had gone, Napoleon suddenly ordered an advance, contrary to all strategic and diplomatic considerations, and, on the following day, his troops began to cross the Nyéman.

On the 12th, early in the morning, he left the tent which on that day had been pitched on the steep left bank of the Nyéman, and looked through the spy-glass at the streams of his troops issuing from the forest of Wilkowiski, and pouring over three bridges thrown across the river. The troops knew of the presence of the emperor, sought for him with their eyes, and when they discovered on the hill, in front of the tent, the figure in the long coat and the hat, which distinguished him from his suite, they threw up their hats and shouted, ” Vive VEmpereur ! ” and one after the other, without cessation, kept pouring forth from the immense wood which had concealed them heretofore, and, scattering, crossed to the other side over the three bridges.

” On fera du chemin cette fois-ci. Oh ! quand il s’en mêle lui-même, ça chauffe — Nom de Dieu — Le voilà ! — Vive VEmpereur ! — Les voilà donc, les steppes de l’Asie ! Vilain pays tout de même. Au revoir, Beauché, je te reserve le plus beau palais de Moscou. Au revoir, bonne chance — L’as tu vu, VEmpereur ? Vive VEmpereur ! — preur ! Si on me fait gouverneur aux Indes, Gérard, je te fais ministre du Cachemire, c’est arrête. Vive VEmpereur ! Vive ! Vive ! Vive ! Les gredins de cosaques, comme ils filent. Vive VEmpereur ! Le voilà ! Le vois-tu ? Je l’ai vu fois comme je te vois. Le petit caporal. Je l’ai vu donner la croix à l’un des vieux — Vive l’Empereur ! ” were heard the voices of old and young men, of all kinds of characters and positions in society. On all the faces of these people there was one common expression of joy at the beginning of the long expected campaign, and of enthusiasm and loyalty to the man in the gray coat, who was standing on the hill.

On the 13th of June, Napoleon was given a small, thoroughbred Arabian horse, and he mounted it and galloped up to one of the bridges, continually deafened by the shouts of transport, which he apparently bore only because it was impossible to forbid the soldiers to express their love of him by shouting ; still, these cries, which accompanied him everywhere, vexed him and distracted his attention from the military cares that had taken possession of him ever since he had joined the army. He rode across one of the bridges which swayed on boats, turned sharply to the left, and galloped away in the direction of Kdvno, preceded by the chasseurs of the Guard, who, trembling with happiness and carried away by enthusiasm, cleared the road for him through the troops which were riding in front of him. Upon reaching the broad river Vistula, he stopped near a Polish regiment of uhlans, which was stationed on its bank.

” Vivat ! ” the Poles cried just as enthusiastically, breaking ranks and crushing each other in their desire to see him. Napoleon examined the river, dismounted from his horse, and sat down on a log which lay on the shore.

At a speechless sign of his, he was given a spy-glass, which he placed on the back of a happy page, who had run up to him, and through which he began to survey the opposite side. Then he was absorbed in the study of a map which had been spread between logs. Without raising his head, he said something, and two of his adjutants galloped up to the Polish uhlans.

« What ? What did he say ? ” were heard the questions in the ranks of the Polish uhlans, as one of the adjutants rode up to them.

The order was given to find a ford and cross the river. The Polish colonel of uhlans, a handsome old man, blushing and mixing up his words from excitement, asked the adjutant whether he would be permitted to swim with his uhlans across the river, without looking for a ford. With apparent fear lest he should be refused, like a boy who asks permission to get on a horse, he begged to be permitted to swim across in the presence of the emperor. The adjutant said that, no doubt, the emperor would not be dissatisfied with this superfluous zeal.

The moment the adjutant had said this, the old mustachioed officer with a happy face and sparkling eyes raised his sword, shouted ” Vivat ! ” gave the command to his uhlans to follow him, put spurs to the horse, and galloped up to the river. He gave an angry kick to the startled horse and splashed into the water, heading toward the deep current. Hundreds of uhlans galloped after him. In the middle of the stream and in the current the water was cold. The uhlans fell from their horses and clung to each other. Some of the horses were drowned, and so were some men ; the others tried to swim by holding on to the saddle or to the mane. They tried to swim straight ahead of them and, although there was a ford not more than half a verst away, were proud of swimming and drowning in the sight of the man who was sitting on a log and not even watching them. When the adjutant, upon returning, chose an appropriate moment in which to direct the emperor’s attention to the loyalty of the Poles to his person, the little man in the gray coat rose and, calling up Berthier, began to walk up and down along the shore, giving him orders, and now and then looking with dissatisfaction at the drowning uhlans, who diverted his attention.

It was not a new conviction for him that his presence in all the ends of the world, from Africa to the steppes of Muscovy, both startled people and threw them into a madness of self-forgetfulness. He ordered up his horse and rode back to his camp.

About forty uhlans were drowned in the river, despite the assistance sent them by boat. The majority retreated to the shore from which they had started. The colonel and a few men swam the river and with difficulty climbed on the other shore. But the moment they got out, with the water streaming from their clothes, they shouted ” Vivat ! ” looking in ecstasy at the place where Napoleon had stood, but where he was no longer, and feeling themselves happy at that moment.

In the evening Napoleon, between two orders, — the one about furnishing immediately the counterfeit Russian assignats, to be taken into Russia, and the other, about shooting a Saxon, upon whose person had been found a letter containing information in regard to the movements of the French army, — made a third order, which was that the Polish colonel who had uselessly rushed into the river should be added to the Legion of Honour, of which Napoleon himself was the head.

Quos vult perdere, dement at.

III.

The Russian emperor had in the meantime been living in Vflna for more than a month, passing his time in reviews and manoeuvres. Nothing was ready for the war, which all were expecting, and for which the emperor had left St. Petersburg to prepare himself. There was no general plan of action. The hesitation about which plan of all those which were proposed should be accepted had only increased during the month that the emperor had been at the headquarters. There was a separate commanderin-chief to each of the three armies, but there was no common head to all the armies, and the emperor did not assume that appellation.

The longer the emperor lived in Vflna the less zealously were preparations made for the war, for the emperor had become tired waiting so long. All the efforts of the men who surrounded the emperor seem to have been directed toward making the emperor pass the time pleasantly, so that he might forget the impending war.

After many balls and fêtes given by the Polish magnates, the courtiers, and the emperor himself, it occurred in June to one of the adjutants-general of the emperor to give the Tsar a ball in the name of his adjutants-general. This idea was cheerfully received by all. The emperor expressed his consent. The adjutants-general collected money by subscription. The lady who more than anybody else might be agreeable to the emperor was invited to be the hostess of the ball. Count Bénigsen, a landed proprietor of the Government of Vflna, offered his suburban mansion for the celebration, and on the 13th of June there were to be a ball, a dinner, boating, and fireworks in Zäkret, Count Bénigsen’s suburban estate.

On the very day when the order was given by Napoleon to cross the Nyéinan, and the van of his army, driving away the Cossacks, crossed the Russian boundary, Alexander was passing his evening at Bénigsen’s summer residence, attending the ball given by his adjutants-general.

It was a jolly and brilliant fête ; connoisseurs said that there had rarely been gathered so many beauties in one spot. Countess Bezukhi, who had followed the emperor from St. Petersburg to Vflna, among a number of other Russian ladies, was at the ball, where she, with her heavy, so-called Russian beauty, overshadowed the refined Polish ladies. She was observed, and the emperor honoured her with a dance.

Boris Drubetskdy, en garçon, as he said, having left his wife in Moscow, was also at this ball, and, though not an adjutantgeneral, took an active interest in it by subscribing a large sum toward it. Boris was now a rich man, who had gone very far in the service, who no longer looked for any protection, and who stood on the same footing as the highest of his contemporaries. He met Hélène in Vilna, after a long lapse of time, and bad forgotten the past ; but as Hélène enjoyed the favour of a very important person, and Boris had but lately married, they again met as good, old friends.

At midnight they were still dancing. Hélène, who had no worthy gentleman to dance with, herself proposed a mazurka to Boris. They were sitting as the third pair. Boris, coolly surveying the shining, nude shoulders of Hélène, as they protruded from a dark, gold-embroidered gauze dress, was telling her about old acquaintances and, at the same time, imperceptibly to himself and to others, never stopped for a minute observing the emperor, who was in the same hall. The emperor was not dancing ; he stood in the door and stopped now one, and now another, addressing to them those kindly words which he alone knew how to choose.

In the beginning of the mazurka Boris noticed that AdjutantGeneral Balashév, one of the persons most intimate with the emperor, had walked over to him and had stationed himself near him in an uncourtly manner, while he was speaking to a Polish lady. Having finished his conversation with the lady, the emperor looked interrogatively at him and, apparently considering that Balashév could have acted thus only under the stress of important causes, slightly nodded to the lady and turned to Balashév. The moment Balashév began to speak, the emperor’s face expressed surprise.

He took Balashév’s arm and crossed the hall, unconsciously to himself clearing a broad passage of about twenty feet on both sides of him through the mass of people who were hastening to get out of his way. Boris noticed Arakchéev’s agitated face, when the emperor started to walk with Balashév. Arakchéev, looking superciliously at the emperor and snivelling with his red nose, moved out from the throng, as though waiting for the emperor to address him. Boris comprehended that Arakchéev was jealous of Balashév and was dissatisfied because an important piece of news was reaching the emperor through another source than him.

But the emperor and Balashév, without noticing Arakchéev, passed through the outer door into the illuminated garden. Arakchéev followed them within twenty steps, holding down his sword and looking angrily about him.

In the figure in which he had to choose a lady, Boris whispered to Hélène that he wanted to take the Countess Potdcki, who, he thought, had gone out on the balcony. Gliding along on the parquetry, he ran out of the rear door leading into the garden, where he stopped, when he noticed the emperor walking with Balashév up to the terrace. They were moving in the direction of the door. Boris fluttered, as though he were too late to get out of the way, and respectfully pressed himself against the doorpost and bent his head.

The emperor, with the agitation of a man who has received a personal insult, was finishing the following words :

” To enter into Russia without declaring war ! I will make peace only when there is not a single armed man left on my soil.”

It appeared to Boris that it gave the emperor pleasure to enunciate these words : he was satisfied with the form in which his thought was clad, but dissatisfied with having been overheard by Boris.

“ Let nobody know it ! ” the emperor added, with a frown.

Boris saw that this referred to him, and so he shut his eyes and slightly inclined his head. The emperor again entered the hall and passed nearly another half-hour at the ball.

Boris was the first to learn about the passage of the Nyéman by the French troops. Thanks to this, he had an opportunity of showing certain important personages that many things which were hidden from them were known to him, and thus he rose higher in the opinion of these persons.

The sudden news of the passage of the Nyéman by the French was the more sudden since it came after a month of fruitless waiting, and at the ball. The emperor had, in the first moment after the receipt of this news and under the influence of agitation and a feeling of insult, found that phrase which later became famous, and which pleased him and fully expressed his sentiment. After his return from the ball, the emperor sent for his secretary, Shishkdv, whom he commanded to write an order to the armies and a rescript to the field-marshal, Prince Saltykdv, in which he asked to have included the words that he would not make peace so long as one armed Frenchman was left on Russian soil.

On the next day the following letter was sent to Napoleon :

” Monsieur mon Frère : — I learned yesterday that, despite the loyalty with which I have observed my obligations toward your Majesty, your troops have crossed the Russian boundary, and only now have I received from St. Petersburg a note, in which Count Lauriston informs me, in reference to tins aggression, that your Majesty has regarded yourself as being in a state of war with me ever since Prince Kuräkin asked for his passports. The motives on which the Duke of Bassano based his refusal to deliver them to him could never have made me suppose that this incident would serve as a pretext for aggression. In fact, this ambassador had never had my authorization, as he himself declared ; the moment I was informed of his action, I showed him my disapproval by commanding him to stay at his post. If your Majesty is not inclined to shed the blood of our peoples on account of a misunderstanding of such a kind, and if your Majesty consents to withdraw the troops from Russian territory, I will regard what has happened as though it had not taken place, and an agreement between us will be possible. Contrariwise, your Majesty, I shall be forced to ward off an attack which has not been provoked by anything on my part. It still depends on your Majesty to save humanity the calamities of a new war.

” I am, etc. (Signed) Alexander.”

IV.

At two o’clock of the night of the 13th of June, the emperor sent for Balashév, and, having read the letter to him, ordered him to take it in person to the French emperor. In dismissing Balashév, the emperor again repeated to him the words that he would not make peace so long as one armed enemy was left on Russian soil, and ordered him to transmit these words to Napoleon. He had not included these words in his letter to Napoleon, because he felt, with his sense of tact, that they were out of place at a moment when the last attempt at pacification was being made ; but he insisted that Balashév should personally transmit them to Napoleon.

Balashév left on the night of June 13th, being accompanied by a bugler and by two Cossacks. At daybreak he reached the village of Rykdnty, on this side of the Nyéman, where stood the French outposts. He was stopped by French cavalry sentinels.

A French under-officer of hussars, in a crimson uniform and a shaggy cap, shouted to Balashév to stop. Balashév did not stop at once, but continued to ride at a pace down the road.

The under-officer, frowning and uttering a curse, moved his horse up to Balashév, put his hand to his sabre, and angrily asked the Russian general whether he was deaf and did not hear what he was asked. Balashév gave him bis name. The under-officer sent a soldier to the officer.

Paying no more attention to Balashév, the under-officer began to speak with his companions about army matters. He did not again cast a glance at the Russian general.

It appeared exceedingly strange to Balashév, after his proximity to the highest power, after the conversation which he had held three hours before with the emperor, and after having become accustomed to honours in the service, to see here, on Russian soil, this hostile and, more especially, this disrespectful, relation of brutal force toward himself.

The sun had just begun to come out from the clouds ; the air was fresh and dewy. The herd was just being driven along the village road. In the fields, the skylarks, chirping, spirted up, one after another, like bubbles rising in the water.

A French colonel of hussars, who had apparently just risen, rode out of the village on a handsome, well-fed gray horse, accompanied by two hussars. The officers, the soldiers, and their horses gave an impression of sufficiency and foppishness.

It was that first part of the campaign, when the troops were still in good trim, such as is displayed at reviews and in peaceful occupations, with but a shade of gala militarism in their attire, and with the moral shade of that merriment and enterprise which always go with the beginning of a campaign.

The French colonel with difficulty restrained his yawns, but was polite and evidently understood the whole significance of Balashév. He led him past his soldiers and beyond the cordon, and informed him that his wish to be brought before the emperor would, no doubt, be fulfilled at once, since the emperor’s quarters, so far as he knew, were not far off.

They crossed the village of Rykdnty past the hussar pickets, sentries, and soldiers, who saluted their colonel and with curiosity examined the Russian uniform, and came out on the other side of the village. According to the colonel’s statement, the chief of the division was within two kilometres, and he would take him to his destination.

The sun had already risen and shone brightly on the lurid verdure.

Just as they had ridden past a tavern on the summit of a hill, they noticed advancing toward them a small throng of riders, at the head of whom, on a black horse with its caparison gleaming in the sun, rode a tall man in a feathered hat, with his hair falling in locks down to his shoulders, and wearing a red mantle ; his long legs were stretched forward, in the manner of French riders. This man galloped up toward Balashév, his feathers, precious stones, and gold lace glistening and waving in the bright June sun.

Balashév was already within two horses’ lengths from the rider in bracelets, panache, necklace, and gold, who was racing toward him with a solemn and theatrical expression on his face, when Julner, the French colonel, whispered respectfully : ” Le roi de Naples ! “

It was, indeed, Murat, now called the King of Naples. Though it was quite incomprehensible why he should be that, he was nevertheless called so, and he himself was convinced of it, and so he looked much more triumphant and important than ever. He was so firmly convinced that he was the King of Naples, that when on the eve of leaving Naples, during his walk with his wife through the streets, a few Italians cried, ” Viva il re ! ” he with a sad smile turned to his wife and said, ” Les malheureux, ils ne savent pas que je les quitte demain ! ”

Still, though he was quite sure that he was the King of Naples and that he had compassion for the sorrow of his subjects, whom he was about to desert, he, — after being ordered to enter active service again, and, especially, after his meeting with Napoleon at Dantzic, when his august brother-in-law told him, ” Je vous ai fait roi pour régner à ma manière, mais pas à la vôtre” — cheerfully took up the business which was familiar to him, and, like a well-fed, but not fattened horse which, feeling itself in the harness, becomes frisky between the shafts, he accoutred himself in the loudest and most expensive manner possible and, happy and contented, galloped off on the road to Poland, not knowing himself whither he was going, or for what purpose.

When he saw the Russian general, he in right royal, solemn fashion, threw back Ids head, with the curls dangling down to his shoulders, and looked questioningly at the French colonel. The colonel respectfully informed his Majesty of the meaning of Balashév, whose name he found it difficult to pronounce.

” De Bal-macheve ! ” said the king, by his determination overcoming the difficulty which had presented itself to the colonel ” Charmé de faire votre connaissance, général ! ” he added with a gesture of royal favour.

The moment the king began to speak loud and rapidly, all his royal dignity suddenly left him, and, without knowing it himself, he passed over to a tone of good-natured familiarity. He placed his hand on the withers of Balashév’s horse.

” Et bien, général, tout est à la guerre, à ce qiCil paraît,” he said, as though regretting the circumstance which was beyond his control.

” Sire,” replied Balashév, ” Vcmpercur mon maître ne désire point la guerre, et comme votre Majesté le voit,” Balashév continued, with inevitable affectation multiplying the use of the title ” Votre Majesté,” as though addressing a person for whom this title was still a novelty.

Murat’s face beamed with stupid contentment as he listened to ” Monsieur de Balachoff.” But ” royauté oblige”: he felt the necessity of conferring with Alexander’s messenger on matters of state, as a king and ally. He dismounted from his horse and, taking Balashév’s arm, walked away a few steps from the suite, which waited for him respectfully, and began to walk up and down with him, trying to assume as significant an aspect as possible. He mentioned the fact that Emperor Napoleon had been insulted by the demand that he remove his troops from Prussia, especially when this demand became known to all and when the dignity of France suffered from it. Balashév said that there was nothing offensive in the demand, because —

Murat interrupted him :

” So you do not regard Emperor Alexander as the instigator ? ” he suddenly said, with a good-natured, stupid smile.

Balashév told him why it was he considered Napoleon to have taken the initiative.

“Eh, mon cher général” Murat again interrupted him, “je désire de tout mon cœur que les empereurs s’arrangent entre eux, et que la guerre commencée malgré moi se termine le plus tôt possible.”

He spoke in the tone of servants who wish to remain good friends, in spite of the quarrel of their masters. He passed over to inquiries about the grand duke and his health, and recalled the time which he had passed so pleasantly with him at Naples. Then, as though suddenly remembering his royal dignity, Murat solemnly straightened himself up, took up the attitude in which he had stood at the coronation, and, shaking his right hand, he said :

” Je ne vous retiens plus, général. Je souhaite le succès de votre mission” and, with a flutter of his red embroidered mantle and of his plumes, and with a sparkle of his precious stones, he walked over to his suite, which was waiting respectfully for him.

Balashév rode on, hoping, from what Murat had said, to be presented at once to Napoleon himself. But, instead of meeting Napoleon, the sentry of Davout’s corps of infantry again detained him at the next village, as he had been detained at the cordon, and an adjutant of the commander of the corps, who was called out, took him to the village to Marshal Davout.

V.

Davout was the Arakchéev of Emperor Napoleon,— not Arakchéev the coward, but the precise, cruel man, who does not know how to express his loyalty otherwise than by means of cruelty.

In the mechanism of the state organism these people are as necessary as are wolves in the organism of Nature, and they are always present, always make their appearance and maintain themselves, however inconsistent their presence and their proximity to the head of the state may seem. Only this necessity can explain how the uneducated, cruel Arakchéev, who personally pulled out the moustaches of the grenadiers, who on account of weak nerves was unable to bear any danger, and who lacked all courtly graces, could have held his place by the side of the knightly, noble, and gentle Alexander.

Balashév found Marshal Davout in the barn of a peasant farm, sitting on a keg and busy writing (he was auditing some accounts). An adjutant was standing near him. It was possible to find better quarters, but Marshal Davout was one of those men who purposely place themselves under the gloomiest conditions of life, in order to have the right to be gloomy. For the same reason they are always hurriedly and stubbornly busy. “What time have I to think of the bright side of human life when, as -you see, I am sitting on a keg in a dirty barn, busy at work ? ” the expression of his face seemed to say. The chief pleasure and necessity of these men consist in opposing their gloomy, persistent activity to any animation in life, whenever they come across it. Davout afforded himself this pleasure, when Balashév was brought in to him. He buried himself still more in his work, when the Russian general entered, and, glancing above his spectacles at Balashév’s face, which was animated under the influence of the beautiful morning and of his conversation with Murat, he did not rise, nor even stir, but only frowned more than usual and smiled a malignant smile.

Upon noticing on Balashév’s face the disagreeable impression produced by this reception, Davout raised his head and coldly asked him what he wanted.

Assuming that he was given such a reception only because Davout did not know that he was an adjutantgeneral of Emperor Alexander and his representative before Napoleon, Balashév hastened to. mention his standing and purpose. Contrary to his expectations, Davout, after having listened to Balashév, became even more stern and rude.

” Where is your packet ? ” he said. ” Donnez-le moi, je l’enverrai à l’empereur.”

Balashév said that his orders were to hand the packet in person to the emperor.

“ The commands of your emperor are carried out in your army, and here,” said Davout, “you have to do what you are ordered to do.”

And, as though to make the Russian general feel more sensitively his dependence on brutal force, Davout sent an adjutant for the officer of the day.

Balashév took out the packet, which contained the emperor’s letter, and placed it upon the table (this table was formed by a door, on which the hinges were still left, placed across two barrels). Davout took the packet and read the address.

” It is your privilege to show me or not to show me respect,” said Balashév, “ but permit me to tell you that I have the honour of bearing the name of adjutantgeneral to his Majesty — ”

Davout looked at him in silence, and the agitation and embarrassment which were expressed in Balashév’s face apparently afforded him pleasure.

« You will receive your due,” he said. Putting the envelope into his pocket, he left the barn.

A minute later Monsieur de Castries, the marshal’s adjutant, entered and took Balashév to quarters set aside for him.

Balashév dined that day in the bam with the marshal, on the same board, which was thrown over the barrels.

On the next day, Davout left early in the morning, and, inviting Balashév to come to see him, he told him that he begged him to remain, to move with the baggagetrain, whenever the-order for an advance was given, and not to converse with any one but Monsieur de Castries.

After a four days’ solitude, tedium, and consciousness of submission and insignificance, which were the more noticeable after that milieu of power, in which he had been moving ; after several marches with the baggage of the marshal and the Drench troops which occupied the whole region, Balashév was brought to Vilna, which now was in the hands of the French, passing through the same toll-gate through which he had left four days before.

On the next day the imperial chamberlain, Monsieur du Turenne, came to see Balashév and informed him of the emperor’s wish to honour him with an audience.

Four days before there had been stationed sentries of the Preobrazhénski regiment in front of the house to which Balashév was now taken ; now there stood there two French grenadiers in blue uniforms, open at the breast, and in shaggy hats, a detachment of hussars and uhlans, a brilliant suite of adjutants, pages, and generals, waiting for the appearance of Napoleon near his mount, which was standing at the porch, and his Mameluke Bustan. Napoleon received Balashév in the same house in Vilna from which Alexander had despatched him.

VI.

Though Balashév was used to the solemnity of the court, he was startled by the luxury and magnificence of Napoleon’s surroundings.

Count Turenne led him to a large waiting-room, where were waiting many generals, gentlemen of the chamber, and Polish magnates, many of whom Balashév had seen at the court of the Russian emperor. Duroc said that Emperor Napoleon would receive the Russian general before starting out on his promenade.

After a few moments of waiting, the chamberlain of the day came out into the large waiting-room and, bowing politely, invited Balashév to follow him.

Balashév entered a small waiting-room, from which one door led to a cabinet, from which the Russian emperor had dispatched him. Balashév stood about two minutes, waiting to be called in. Behind the door could be heard hurried steps. Both halves of the door opened, all grew silent, and in the cabinet were heard firm, determined steps, those of Napoleon : he had just finished his toilet for the horseback ride. He wore a blue uniform, which was open over a white waistcoat that came down to his rotund abdomen, white elk-leather pantaloons that fitted tightly on the fat thighs of his short legs, and a pair of jack-boots. His short hair had evidently just been combed, but one strand fell down the middle of his broad forehead. His white, puffy neck stood out sharply from the black collar of his uniform ; there was an odour of eau de Cologne about him. On Ins youthful, plump face with its protruding chin there was an expression of a gracious, majestic greeting, worthy of an emperor.

He came out with a rapid quiver of his body at every step he took and throwing his head slightly back. His whole stout, short figure, with the broad, fat shoulders and involuntarily protruding abdomen and chest, gave him that distinguished and reserved aspect which is seen in people of about forty years of age, who live in ease. Besides it was apparent that on that day he was in the best mood possible.

He nodded, in response to Balashév’s low, respectful bow, and, walking over to him, began to speak at once, like a man who valued every minute of his time and who did not condescend to prepare his speeches, but who was convinced that he would always speak well and would say what was proper.

” Good morning, general ! ” he said. ” I have received Emperor Alexander’s letter which you have brought for me, and am very glad to see you.”

He looked at Balashév with his large eyes, and immediately glanced past him. Evidently he was not in the least interested in Balashév. Apparently only what was going on in his soul interested him. Everything which was beyond it had no meaning for him, because everything in the world, he thought, depended only on Iris will.

” I have not wished and do not wish for war,” he said, ” but I have been driven to it. Even now ” (he emphasized the word), ” I am ready to accept all explanations which you may give me.”

He began clearly and briefly to expound the reasons for his dissatisfaction with the Russian government. Judging from the moderate and friendly tone With which the French emperor spoke, Balashév was firmly convinced that he wished for peace and intended to enter into negotiations.

“Sire! L’Empereur, mon maître,” Balashév began the speech which he had prepared long ago, as soon as Napoleon finished and looked at him interrogatively ; but the look of the emperor’s eyes, directed at him, confused him. ” You are confused, — regain your composure !” Napoleon seemed to say, with a barely perceptible smile examining Balashév’s uniform and sword. Balashév regained his composure and began to speak. He said that Emperor Alexander did not consider Kuräkin’s request that he be given his passports as a sufficient cause for war, that Kurakin had acted on his own responsibility, without the consent of the Tsar, that Emperor Alexander did not wish for war, and that there were no relations with England.

” Not yet,” Napoleon interposed, and, as though fearing to submit to his feeling, he frowned and slightly nodded his head, to let Balashév know that he might continue.

Having said everything which was contained in his orders, Balashév added that Emperor Alexander wished for peace, but would not enter upon any negotiations unless — Here Balashév became embarrassed : he recalled the words which Emperor Alexander had not included in the letter, but which he had commanded to be put into the rescript to Saltykdv, and which he, Balashév, was to transmit to Napoleon. Balashév remembered the words, ” So long as one armed enemy was left on Russian soil,” but some complex feeling kept him from uttering them. He was unable to say the words, though he wished to do so. He hesitated and said, ” Unless the French troops retreated beyond the Nyéman.”

Napoleon noticed Balashév’s embarrassment, as he was uttering the last words : his face twitched and the calf of his left leg began to quiver in even motion. Without stirring from the spot, he began to speak in a louder and faster voice. Balashév, who during the ensuing words of Napoleon frequently cast down his eyes, could not help observing the twitching of the calf of Napoleon’s left leg, which became more pronounced every time he raised his voice.

” I wish for peace not less than Emperor Alexander,” he began. ” Have I not been doing everything in my power for the last eighteen months in order to obtain it ? I have for eighteen months been waiting for explanations. But, what is expected of me, in order to begin the negotiations ? ” he said, frowning and making an energetic, interrogative gesture with his plump, white little hand.

“The retreat of the troops beyond the Nyéman, emperor,” said Balashév.

” Beyond the Nyéman ? ” repeated Napoleon. “ So now you want me to retreat beyond the Nyéman, — only beyond the Nyéman ? ” repeated Napoleon, looking straight at Balashév.

Balashév respectfully inclined his head.

Four months before, Napoleon had been asked to retreat from Pomerania ; now he was asked to retreat beyond the Nyéman. Napoleon rapidly turned around and began to pace up and down in the room.

” You say that I am asked to recross the Nyéman before negotiations are to begin ; but two months ago I was asked in the same manner to retreat beyond the Oder and Vistula, and yet you are ready to enter upon negotiations.”

He silently crossed the room from one corner to another, and then again stopped opposite Balashév. Balashév noticed that his left leg trembled faster than ever, and that Iris face seemed to be petrified in its stern expression. Napoleon was conscious of the twitching of his left calf. ” La vibration de mon mollet gauche est un grand signe chez moi” he used to say afterward.

” Propositions such as the one about clearing the Oder or Vistula may be made to the Prince of Baden, but not to me,” Napoleon almost shouted, unexpectedly to himself. “If you were to give me St. Petersburg and Moscow, I would not receive these conditions. You say that I began the war ! But who was the first to come to his army ? Emperor Alexander and not I. You propose negotiations to me after I have spent millions and while you are in alliance with England. Now that your condition is unfavourable, you propose negotiations to me ! What is the aim of your alliance with England ? What has it given you ? ” he spoke hurriedly, now apparently no longer addressing his words to him in order to show the advantages of peace negotiations and to discuss their possibility, but only in order to prove his righteousness and power, and the unrighteousness and blunders of Alexander.

The introduction to his speech was made evidently for the purpose of proving the advantage of his situation and yet of showing that he was willing to hear about negotiations. But once launched out, he was unable to control his speech.

The whole purpose of his remarks now apparently was to extol himself and offend Alexander, that is, to do that which in the beginning of the interview he had been least of all inclined to do.

“ They say that you have made peace with the Turks.” Balashév replied with an affirmative inclination of his head.

“ The peace is made — ” he began. But Napoleon did not allow him to go on. He evidently had to speak himself, and he continued to speak with that eloquence and incontinence of irritation, to which spoilt people are prone.

“ Yes, I know, you have concluded a peace with the Turks, without having received Moldavia and Wallachia. I should have given these provinces to your Tsar, just as I gave him Finland. Yes,” he continued, “ I promised to give Alexander Moldavia and Wallachia, and I should have given them to him, but now he will not have those beautiful provinces. There was, however, nothing in the way of adding them to his empire, and in one reign he would have expanded Russia from the Gulf of Bothnia to the mouth of the Danube. Catherine the Great could not have done more,” said Napoleon, becoming ever more excited, walking across the room, and repeating to Balashév almost the same words which he had employed to Alexander iu Tilsit. ” Tout cela il l’aurait du à mon amitié. Ah ! quel beau règne, quel beau règne ! ” he repeated several times. He stopped, drew his gold snuff-box out of his pocket, and with his nose took a pinch from it.

” Quel beau règne aurait pu être celui de VEmpereur Alexandre ! “

He looked compassionately at Balashév, and the moment Balashév intended to say something, he hastened to interrupt him :

” What could he have desired and looked for, which he could not find in my friendship ? ” he said, shrugging his shoulders, as though in perplexity. ” He found it best to surround himself with my enemies, and with whom ? ” continued Napoleon. “ With Stein, Armfeldt, Bénigsen, Wintzingerode. Stein is a traitor who has been driven out of his country ; Armfeldt is a débauché and intriguer ; Wintzingerode — a fugitive French subject; Bénigsen is a little more military than the rest, but still incapable; he was unable to do anything in 1807, and ought to awaken terrible recollections in Emperor Alexander. If they were capable soldiers, they could be made use of,” continued Napoleon, hardly ably to utter his words as fast as the new combinations arose in his imagination, to prove his justice or power, which to his mind was one and the same thing, ” but that is not the case : they are unfit for war and for peace ! Barclay is said to be a better general than they are, but I cannot affirm this, if I am to judge from his first movements. And what are they doing, all those courtiers ? Pfuel proposes, Armfeldt discusses, Bénigsen examines, and Barclay, who is called to act, does not know what to do, and time passes without any results. Bagration is the only soldier. He is stupid, but he has experience, a sure eye, and determination. What rôle does your young emperor play in this monstrous group ? They are compromising him and throwing all the responsibility on his shoulders. Un souverain ne doit être a l’armée que quand il est général,” he said, apparently throwing down the gauntlet to the emperor. Napoleon knew how much Emperor Alexander wanted to be a general.

” The campaign began a week ago, and you did not know how to defend Vflna. You are cut in two and driven out of the Polish provinces. Your army murmurs.”

” On the contrary, your Majesty,” said Balashév, who had difficulty in remembering all he heard, and in following these fireworks of words, ” the army burns with the desire — “

” I know everything,” Napoleon interrupted him, ” I know everything, and I know the number of your battalions as well as I know my own. You have less than two hundred thousand soldiers, while I have three times as many : I give you my word of honour,” said Napoleon, forgetting that his word of honour could have no significance, ” I give you ma parole d’honneur que j’ai cinq cent trente mille hommes de ce côté de la Vistule. The Turks are of no avail to you : they are good for nothing, and this they have proved by making peace with you. The Swedes, — it is their destiny to be ruled by insane kings. Their king was insane ; they changed him and took another— Bernadotte, who immediately went insane, for only a Swede who is insane can conclude an alliance with Russia.”

Napoleon smiled a malicious smile and again raised his snuff-box to his nose.

Balashév had an answer to every sentence uttered by Napoleon and was anxious to make a reply ; he kept making the gesture of a man wishing to say something, but Napoleon kept interrupting him. To the statement that the Swedes were insane, Balashév wanted to say that Sweden was an island, if Russia was with her ; but Napoleon shouted again, in order to drown his voice. Napoleon was in that state of irritation, when a man has to keep talking all the time, in order to prove to himself the justice of his case. Balashév began to feel uneasy: as an ambassador, he was afraid lest he should lose his dignity, and yet he felt the necessity of replying to Napoleon ; as a man, he felt morally compressed before that forgetfulness which comes from causeless anger, and in which Napoleon obviously was. He knew that the words now uttered by Napoleon had no meaning, and that he himself would feel ashamed of them as soon as he regained his senses. Balashév stood with downcast eyes, looking at Napoleon’s fat legs in motion, and trying to avoid his glance.

” What do I care for your allies ? ” said Napoleon. ” My allies are the Poles : there are eighty thousand of them, and they fight like lions. There will be two hundred thousand of them.”

And, apparently excited by having spoken a manifest untruth and by the fact that Balashév remained standing silently before him in the same pose, submitting to fate, he abruptly turned back, walked over to Balashév’s very face, and, making energetic, rapid gestures with his white hands, almost shouted :

“Remember that if you turn Prussia against me, remember, I will wipe it off from the map of Europe,” he said, with a pale face which was distorted by anger, and with an energetic gesture striking one of his small hands with the other. ” Yes, I will throw you beyond the Dvina and beyond the Dnieper, and will make for you that barrier which Europe was criminal and blind to have permitted to be destroyed. Yes, this is what will happen to you ! This is what you have gained by parting from me,” he said, silently pacing up and down in the room, and shrugging his fat shoulders. He put the snuff-box into his waistcoat pocket, again took it out, several times carried it up to his nose, and stopped opposite Balashév. He grew silent, looked sarcastically straight into Balashév’s eyes, and said, in a soft voice : ” Et cependant quel beau règne aurait pu avoir votre maître ! ”

Balashév, feeling the necessity of retorting to him, said that from Russia’s standpoint matters did not appear in such a gloomy light. Napoleon was silent, continuing to look sarcastically at him and evidently not listening to him. Balashév said that in Russia the best was expected of the war. Napoleon shook his head condescendingly, as though to say, “ I know, your duty tells you so, but you yourself do not believe it, — you are convinced by me.”

At the end of Balashév’s speech, Napoleon again took out his snuff-box, put it to his nose, and, to give a signal, twice struck the floor with his foot. The door opened ; a chamberlain, bending in a respectful attitude, handed the emperor a hat and a pair of gloves ; another handed him a handkerchief. Napoleon, without looking at them, turned to Balashév:

” Assure Emperor Alexander in my name,” he said, taking his hat, “ that I am as devoted to him as ever : I know him well and I very highly value his high qualities. Je ne vous retiens plus, général ; vous recevrez ma lettre à l’empereur.”

Napoleon rapidly moved up to the door. All those who were in the waiting-room rushed forward and downstairs.

VIL

After what Napoleon had said, after those outbursts of anger, and after the last words uttered in a dry tone, “je ne vous retiens plus, général ; vous recevrez ma lettre Balashév was convinced that Napoleon would not want to see him again, and would even try not to see him, the offended ambassador and, above all, the witness to his indecorous rage. But, to his surprise, he received through Duroc an invitation to the emperor’s table on that day.

At the dinner were Bessières, Caulaincourt, and Berthier.

Napoleon met Balashév with a merry and kindly countenance. He did not show the least sign of embarrassment or self-rebuke for his morning’s outburst ; on the contrary, he tried to put Balashév at his ease. It was apparent that in Napoleon’s conviction there had long ago ceased to exist the possibility of error on his part and that in his conception everything he did was good, not because it coincided with the idea of what was good or bad, but because he was doing it.

The emperor was very jolly after his ride through Vilna, during which throngs of people had met and accompanied him with enthusiasm. In all the windows of the streets through which he rode there hung rugs, flags, and his monograms, and Polish ladies received him with the waving of their handkerchiefs.

At dinner he placed Balashév by his side. He treated him not only kindly, but as though he regarded Balashév as one of his courtiers, among the men who sympathized with his plans and who were to rejoice in his successes. Among other things he spoke of Moscow, asking Balashév about the Russian capital, not only as a curious traveller asks about a new place which he intends to visit, but also with the conviction that Balashév, as a Russian, would be flattered by his curiosity.

” How many inhabitants are there in Moscow, and how many houses ? Is it true that Moscou is called Moswu la sainte ? How many churches are there in Moscou ? ” he asked.

To the reply that there were more than two hundred churches, he said :

” Why such a mass of churches ? “

” The Russians are very pious,” replied Balashév.

” But a large quantity of monasteries and churches is always a sign of the backwardness of a nation,” said Napoleon, looking at Caulaincourt for appreciation of his judgment.

Balashév begged respectfully to differ from the French emperor.

” Each country has its customs,” he said.

” But nowhere else in Europe are such things to be found,” said Napoleon.

” I beg your Majesty’s pardon,” said Balashév, ” outside of Russia, there is Spain, where there are as many churches and monasteries.”

This response of Balashév, which hinted at the late defeat of the French in Spain, was highly appreciated at the court of Emperor Alexander, when Balashév told it there, but here, at Napoleon’s dinner, it was not appreciated at all, and passed by unnoticed.

It was evident, from the indifferent and perplexed looks of the marshals, that they were not sure wherein lay the sarcasm to which the intonation of Balashév’s voice seemed to point. ” If there was any, we did not understand it, or there was nothing clever about it,” said the expressions of the marshals’ faces. His reply was so little appreciated, that Napoleon positively did not notice it, but proceeded to ask Balashév through what cities the straight road to Moscow went. Balashév, who was cautious during the whole time of the dinner, answered that comme tout chemin mène à Rome, tout chemin mène à Moscou, so there were many roads, and that, among these many roads, there was one which led to Poltava, which Charles XII. had chosen. As he said this, Balashév’s face was suddenly flushed with joy at the success of his reply. He had not finished saying the last words, when Caulaincourt started to speak of the inconveniences of the road from St. Petersburg to Moscow, and of his reminiscences of St. Petersburg.

After dinner they passed for the coffee into Napoleon’s cabinet, which four days before had been the cabinet of Emperor Alexander. Napoleon sat down, stirring the coffee in a Sèvres cup, and indicated to Balashév a chair near him.

There is in man a certain postprandial mood, which more than all sensible reasons causes him to be satisfied with himself and to regard everybody as his friend. Napoleon was in that mood. It seemed to him that he was surrounded by men who adored him. He was convinced that even Balashév, after having partaken of his dinner, was his friend and admirer. Napoleon turned to him with an agreeable and slightly sarcastic smile.

” This is the same room, I am told, in which Emperor Alexander lived. It is strange, general, is it not ? ” he said, apparently without the slightest doubt that this remark must be agreeable to his interlocutor, since it proved his, Napoleon’s, superiority over Alexander.

Balashév could make no reply to this and silently bent his head.

“ Yes, in this room Wintzingerode and Stein had their consultations four days ago,” Napoleon proceeded, with the same sarcastic, self-satisfied smile. ” What I cannot understand,” he said, “is that Emperor Alexander has surrounded himself with all my personal enemies. I do not — understand it. Did it not occur to him that I might do likewise ? ” he turned questioningly to Balashév. Apparently this recollection again pushed him into the track of his morning’s irritation, which was still fresh in him.

” And he ought to know that I will do so,” said Napoleon, rising and pushing the cup away with his hand. “ I will drive all his Wiirtemberg, Baden, Weimar relatives out of Germany — yes, I will. Let him prepare an asylum for them in Russia ! ”

Balashév inclined his head, showing by his look that he would have preferred to take his leave, and that he was listening only because he could not help listening to what was being said. Napoleon took no notice of this expression ; he addressed Balashév, not as the ambassador of His enemy, but as a man who was now quite devoted to him, and who must take pleasure in hearing his former master reviled.

” Why did Emperor Alexander take the command of the Russian troops ? Why ? War is my business, but his is to rule, and not to command an army. Why did he take such a responsibility upon himself ? ”

Napoleon again took the snuff-box, silently crossed the room several times, then suddenly walked over to Balashév and with a slight smile, confidently, rapidly, and simply raised his hand to the face of the Russian general of forty years of age, as though he were doing not only an important piece of business, but something agreeable to Balashév, and taking hold of his ear, gave it a light jerk, while smiling with his Ups only.

Avoir l’oreille tiré par Vempereur was regarded as the greatest honour and favour at the court of France.

” Eh bien, vous ne dites rien, admirateur et courtisan de rEmpereur Alexandre,” he said, as though it was too

funny to be the ” courtisan et admirateur ” of some one other than Napoleon’s in his own presence. “Are the horses ready for the general?” he added, with a slight inclination of his head in response to Balashév’s bow.

” Give him mine, — he has to travel a long distance — ”

The letter which Balashév took back was the last which passed from Napoleon to Alexander. All the details of the conversation were transmitted to the Russian emperor, and the war began.

VIII.

After his meeting with Pierre in Moscow, Prince Audrey went back to St. Petersburg to attend to business, as he told his relatives, but in reality to meet there Prince Anatdl Kurdgin, whom he regarded it as necessary to meet. Upon his arrival he learned that Kurdgin was no longer in St. Petersburg. Pierre informed his brother-in-law that Prince Andréy was coming to see him. Anatdl Kurdgin immediately received an appointment from the minister of war and left for the Moldavian army. At the same time, Prince Andréy met in St. Petersburg Kutuzov, his old general, who had always been favourably inclined toward him, and Kutuzov proposed to him to go to the Moldavian army, of which the old general was appointed field-marshal. Prince Andrey was attached to the staff of the headquarters and left for Turkey.

Prince Andréy thought it improper to write to Kurdgin and to challenge him. Unless he had some new cause for a duel, he regarded a challenge sent by him as compromising Countess Rostdv, and so he was anxious to meet Kurdgin in person, so as to get a chance of finding such a new cause. But be was just as unsuccessful in finding Kurdgin in the Turkish army, for Kurdgin went back to Russia the moment Prince Andréy reached Turkey.

Prince Andréy found life easier in the new country and under new conditions. After his fiancée’s treason, which affected him the more forcibly the more carefully he tried to conceal the effect from all, the conditions of life under

which he had been happy were burdensome to him, and still more oppressive were to him that freedom and independence which he had valued so much before. He not only did not think his old thoughts, which had come to him for the first time as he had been looking at the sky while lying on the field of Austerlitz, which he had liked to develop with Pierre, and which had filled his solitude at Bogucharovo, and later in Switzerland and Rome ; but he was even afraid to recall those ideas which revealed to him bright, endless horizons. He was now interested only in the nearest, practical affairs, which were not connected with his former life, and of which he availed himself the more eagerly, the more concealed the former affairs were from him. It was as though that immeasurable receding vault of heaven, which formerly had stood above him, had suddenly changed into a low, definite, oppressive vault, on which everything was clear, and nothing eternal and mysterious.

Of the several activities open to him, the military service was the simplest and most familiar. In his capacity as general of the day on Kutuzov’s staff, he worked persistently and zealously, surprising Kutuzov by his readiness to work and by his accuracy. When he did not find Kurégin in Turkey, he did not consider it necessary to gallop back to Russia for him ; at the same time he knew that, no matter how much time should pass, no matter what contempt he felt for him, in spite of all the arguments which he adduced to himself to prove that it was not worth while for him to lower himself by a personal conflict with Kurägin, he knew that, upon meeting him, he should be unable to keep from challenging him, just as a hungry man cannot keep from throwing himself upon food. This consciousness that the offence was not yet avenged, that his venom had not yet been exhausted, but was lying in his heart, poisoned that artificial calm of his, which he was trying to find in Turkey in the shape of an assiduously busy and somewhat ambitious and vain activity.

In the year 1812, when the news of a war with Napoleon reached Bucharest, where Kutuzov had been for two months, passing his days and nights with his Wallachian woman, Prince Andréy asked the commanderin-chief to be transferred to the army of the West. Kutuzov, who was getting tired of Bolkonski and his activity, which served as a rebuke to indolence, readily permitted him to go, giving him orders for Barclay de Tolly.

Before going to the army, which in May was camping at the Drissa, Prince Audrey visited Lÿsyya Gory, which was on his road, being within three versts of the Smolensk highway. In the last three years of Prince Andréy’s life there had been so many transformations and he had thought, felt, and seen so much (having travelled both in the West and the East), that he was suddenly strangely affected, at his arrival at Lÿsyya Gory, by the stream of life which, down to the minutest details, had remained the same it had always been. He drove through the avenue and the stone gate of the Lÿsyya Gory mansion as though he were entering an enchanted castle where all was asleep. Within there was the same austerity, the same cleanliness, the same quiet, the same furniture, the same walls, the same sounds, the same odour, and the same timid faces, only grown a little old. Princess Marya was the same timid, plain, aging old maid, who was passing the best years of her life uselessly and joylessly, in terror and eternal moral sufferings. Mlle. Bourienne was the same self-satisfied, coquettish girl, who was merrily making use of every moment of her life and was filled with the most joyous hopes. Prince Andréy thought she had become more self-satisfied. Tutor Desalles, whom he had brought with him from Switzerland, wore a coat of a Russian cut and spoke a Russian brogue with the servants, but otherwise was the same narrow-minded, cultured, virtuous, pedantic educator. The old prince had changed physically in that he had lost a tooth at the side of his mouth ; morally he was the same as ever, except that he looked with greater rage and incredulity upon that which was actually taking place in the world. Little Nikoldy was the only one who had grown and changed ; he was ruddy and had a head of curly black hair, and, not knowing it himself, every time when he laughed and made merry, raised the upper lip of his pretty mouth in precisely the same manner that the deceased little princess used to raise hers. He was the only one who did not comply with the law of unchangeability in this enchanted, sleeping palace. Yet, though outwardly everything remained as of old, the inner relations of all these people had changed since Prince Andréy had seen them last. The household was divided into two camps, foreign and hostile to each other, which only now, on his account, met and changed their customary manner of life. To the one belonged the old prince, Mlle. Bourienne, and the architect ; to the other, Princess Marya, Desalles, Nikoldy, and all the nurses.

During his stay at L/syya G6ry, all the people of the house dined together, but all felt awkward, and Prince Andréy saw that he was a guest for whom an exception was made, and that he embarrassed all by his presence. At the dinner of the first day, Prince Andréy, who instinctively felt that to be the case, was silent, and the old prince, who observed the unnaturalness of his condition, himself grew silent and immediately after dinner went to his room. When Prince Andréy went to him in the evening and, trying to cheer him up, began to tell him about the campaign of the young Count Kdmenski, the old prince suddenly changed the subject and spoke of Princess Märya, censuring her for her superstition and for her hostility to Mlle. Bourienne, who, according to his words, was the only one who was sincerely devoted to him.

ine uiu pixx.—

was to blame for it ; that she purposely –––

tormented him ; that she was ruining the young Prince Nikolay with indulgence and foolish talk. He knew full well that he was tormenting his daughter and that she had a hard life with him ; but he also knew that he could not help tormenting her and that she deserved it. ” Why does Prince Andréy, who sees this, say nothing to me about his sister ? ” thought the old prince. ” Does he think that I am a brute or an old fool, and that I have without cause separated myself from my daughter and cultivated the acquaintance of the Frenchwoman ? He does not understand it, and so I must explain it to him, and he shall listen to me,” thought the old man. And so he began to give the reasons why he could not endure his daughter’s senseless character.

“ Since you ask me,” said Prince Andréy, without looking at his father (this was the first time in his life that he had censured his father), ” I had no intention of telling you, but since you ask me, I will tell you frankly my opinion about the whole matter. If there are misunderstandings and discord between you and Märya, I can in no way accuse her, — I know how she loves and respects you. Since you ask me,” continued Prince Andréy, becoming irritated, for of late he had always been prone to irritation, ” I can only tell you that, if there are any misunderstandings, the cause of them is that miserable woman who ought not to be the companion of my sister.”

The old man at first looked at his son with an arrested glance, and smiling revealed the new lacuna between his teeth, to which Prince Andréy was not able to get used.

” What companion, my dear ? Eh ? You have already had a talk with her ! Eh ? ”

” Father, I did not wish to be a judge,” Prince Andréy said, in a bilious and harsh voice, ” but you have provoked me, and I have told you and will always tell you that

Princess Marya is not to blame, but that the Frenchwoman is — “

“ Ah, you have passed judgment, you have ! ” the old man said, in a soft voice and, as Prince Andréy thought, with some embarrassment, but then he suddenly leaped up and shouted : ” Out ! Out with you ! Let me not see your face again ! “

Prince Andréy wanted to go at once, but Princess Marya begged him to stay overnight. The rest of that day Prince Andréy did not see his father, who did not come out and who admitted no one but Mlle. Bourienne and Tikhon, and kept asking whether his son had gone yet. On the next day, before his departure, Prince Andréy went to the apartments of his son. The sturdy little fellow, whose hair was as curly as his mother’s, sat down on his knees. Prince Andréy began to tell him the fairy-tale about Bluebeard, but, before finishing it, he fell to musing. He was not thinking of the pretty boy whom he was holding upon his knees, but of himself. To his terror, he was unable to discover any repentance in himself for having irritated his father, or any regret because now for the first time in his life he was about to leave him after a quarrel. Worse than all was the thought that he was unable to discover his former tenderness toward his son, which he had hoped to rouse in himself by fondling him and taking him on his knee.

“ Well, go on,” said his son.

Prince Andréy, without answering him, put him down from his knees, and left the room. The moment Prince Andréy left his every-day occupations and entered into the old conditions of life, in which he had been when he was happy, the tedium of life took possession of him with its former strength, and he hastened away from these recollections and tried as soon as possible to find some work to do.

« So you are positively going away, André ? ” his sister asked him.

” Thank God I can leave,” said Prince Andréy. “ I am very sorry that you can’t.”

« Why do you say this ? ” asked Princess Marya. ” Why do you say this just as you are about to leave for that terrible war, and when he is so old ? Mlle. Bourienne says that he has been asking about you — “

The moment she began to say this, her lips quivered and tears began to drop. Prince Andréy turned away from her and walked up and down in the room.

” 0 Lord, 0 Lord ! ” he said. “ Just to think what and who, what insignificant little thing, may be the cause of men’s misfortune ! ” he said, with a malice which frightened Princess Mdrya.

She understood that, speaking of people whom he called “ insignificant little thing,” he meant not only Mlle. Bourienne, who was causing his misfortune, but also that man who had ruined his happiness.

” André, there is one thing which 1 beg and implore of you,” she said, touching his elbow and looking at him with eyes shining through tears. ” I understand you ” (Princess Mdrya lowered her eyes). ” Do not think that people have caused your grief. People are His tools.” She looked a little above Prince Andréy’s head, with the confident, habitual glance with which one looks at the customary place of a portrait. ” Grief is sent by Him, and not by men. Men are His tools, and they are not to blame. If anybody seems to be blameworthy, forget and forgive. We have no right to punish. You will understand the happiness of forgiveness.”

” If I were a woman, I would do so, Marie. It is a woman’s virtue. But a man must not and cannot forget and forgive,” he said, and, although he had not been thinking of Kurdgin, all the unavenged fury suddenly rose in his heart. ” If Princess Mdrya is trying to persuade me that I should forgive, it means that I ought to have punished long ago,” he thought. And, without saying any-tiling else to Princess Marya, he began to think of that joyful, evil moment when he should meet Xu ragin, who, he knew, was in the army.

Princess Mdrya implored her brother to wait another day and told him that she was sure that his father would be unhappy if Andréy left without having made up with him ; but Prince Andréy replied that he, no doubt, would soon return from the army, that he would certainly write to his father, and that the longer he remained, the more the discord would grow.

” Adieu, André. Rappelez-vous que les malheurs viennent de Dieu, et que les hommes ne sont jamais coupables,” were the last words which he heard from his sister, as he parted from her.

” No doubt it must be ! ” thought Prince Andréy, as he drove out of the avenue of Lÿsyya Gory mansion. ” She, a pitiful, innocent creature, is left to be devoured by the doting old man. The old man feels that he is wrong, but cannot change himself. My boy is growing and enjoying life, in which he will be like the rest, — the deceiver or the deceived. lam going to the army, — why I do not know myself, and I wish to meet the man whom I despise, in order to give him a chance to kill me and laugh at me ! ” The same conditions of life had existed before, but formerly everything was connected, and now it all fell to pieces. Nothing but senseless phenomena, without any connection, passed one after the other through Prince Andréy’s mind.

IX.

PRINCE Andréy arrived at the headquarters of the army at the end of June. The troops of the first army, with which the emperor was, were stationed in the fortified camp at the Orissa; the troops of the second army were retreating, trying to unite with the first army, from which, it was said, they were cut off by large French forces. Everybody was dissatisfied with the general course of military affairs in the Russian army; however, nobody believed that there was even danger of an incursion into the Russian Governments, nobody surmised that the war would be carried farther than the western Polish provinces.

Prince Andréy found Barclay de Tolly, to whom he was attached, on the shore of the Orissa. As there was not one large village or town in the neighbourhood of the camp, the whole immense mass of generals and courtiers, who were with the army, were stationed in a radius of ten versts, in the best houses of the hamlets, on either side of the river. Barclay de Tolly was within four versts of the emperor. He received Bolkdnski coldly and dryly, and told him in his German brogue that he would report to the emperor for his definite appointment, but that in the meantime he asked him to be on his staff.

Anatél Kurdgin, whom Prince Andréy had hoped to find in the army, was not there : he was in St. Petersburg, and tins news was agreeable to Bolkonski. The interest of the centre of the impending great war held the attention of Prince Andréy, and he was glad to be relieved for a time from the irritation which the thought of Xu ragin produced upon him.

During the first four days, when he was not yet commanded to any place, Prince Andréy rode around the whole fortified camp, trying, by means of his knowledge and through conversations with experts, to form a definite idea about it ; but the question whether the camp was advantageous or not remained unanswered by Prince Andréy. He had had enough military experience to arrive at the conviction that in matters of war the best laid plans were of no value (he had found that out in the Austerlitz campaign), that everything depended on how the sudden and unforeseen actions of the enemy were dealt with, and that all depended on how and by whom the matter was handled. In order to make the latter question clear to himself, Prince Andréy, making use of his position and acquaintanceship, tried to get at the facts as to how the army was managed and at the character of the persons and parties that took part in it, and arrived at the following conception about the state of affairs.

While the emperor was still at Vilna, the army was divided into three : the first army was under the command of Barclay de Tolly, the second under that of Bagratidn, and the third under Tormasov. The emperor was with the first army, but not in the capacity of commanderin-chief. In the order it did not say that the emperor would be commanding, but only that he would be with the army. Besides, with the emperor in person was not the staff of the commanderin-chief, but the staff of the imperial headquarters. With him were the chief of the imperial staff, Quartermaster-General Prince Volkdnski, generals, aids-de-camp, diplomatic officials, and a large number of foreigners, but not the staff of the army. In addition to these, there were with him men without any definite duties, such as Arakchéev, the ex-minister of war, Count Bénigsen, the oldest general in rank, Grand Duke Tsesarévich Konstantin Pävlovich, Count Rumyantsev, the chancellor, Stein, the ex-minister of Prussia, Armfeldt, the Swedish general, Pfuel, the chief author of the plan of the campaign, Paulucci, the adjutantgeneral, a Sardinian emigrant, Wolzogen, and many others. Although these persons had no military posts in the army, they had an influence upon it by dint of their positions, and frequently a chief of a corps, and even the commanderin-chief did not know in what capacity Bénigsen, or the grand duke, or Arakchéev, or Prince Volkdnski, asked or advised this or that, and whether a given order in the form of advice originated in such a person or in the emperor, and whether it was necessary to obey it, or not. But that was only an external arrangement ; the essential meaning of the presence of the emperor and of all these persons from the standpoint of the court (in the presence of the emperor all became courtiers) was clear to all. It was this : the emperor did not assume the appellation of commanderin-chief, but took charge of all the armies, while all the people who surrounded him were his assistants. Arakchéev was the trusty executor and guardian of order and body-guard of the emperor; Bénigsen was a landed proprietor of the Government of Vilna, who apparently was doing the honours of the country, but in reality he was a good general, useful in the council and ready at any time to take the place of Barclay de Tolly. The grand duke was there because it pleased him to be there. Ex-minister Stein was there because he was useful in the council, and because Emperor Alexander highly valued his personal qualities. •

Armfeldt, the hateful enemy of Napoleon, was a selfconfident general, and this always had an influence on Alexander. Paulucci was there because he was bold and decided in his speeches. The ad jutants - general were there because they were everywhere where the Tsar was, and, above all, Pfuel was there because he had composed the plan of the war against Napoleon, and, because having gained Alexander’s confidence in the correctness of his judgment, he managed the whole war. With Pfuel was Wolzogen, who transmitted Pfuel’s ideas in a more accessible form than Pfuel himself gave them in, — an abrupt man, selfconfident to the point of contempt, and a cabinet theorist.

In addition to the above-mentioned persons, Russians and strangers (especially strangers, who, with a boldness which is characteristic of people acting in a strange milieu, each day proposed new, unexpected ideas), there were also a large number of men of secondary importance, who were with the army because their chiefs were there.

Among the many ideas and voices current in this immense, restless, brilliant, and proud world, Prince Andréy saw the following more clearly defined subdivisions of tendencies and parties.

The first party consisted of Pfuel and his followers, thé theorists of the war, who believed in the existence of a science of war, and that in this science there were invariable laws of oblique movements, of flanking, and so forth. Pfuel and his followers demanded a retreat into the interior of the country, according to exact laws prescribed by the assumed theory of war, and in every deflection from this theory they saw only barbarism, ignorance, or evil-mindedness. To this party belonged the German princes, Wolzogen, Wintzingerode and others, chiefly Germans.

The second party was diametrically opposed to the first. As is always the case, to one extreme were opposed the representatives of another. The men of this party were those who demanded the advance into Poland from Vilna, and a full freedom of action, unhampered by any plans. Not only were the representatives of this party in favour of bold actions, but they also represented strict nationalism, which made them only more one-sided in their disputes. The party consisted of the Russians, Bagratidn, rising Ermdlov, and others. During this time there was current the famous joke of Ermdlov, who was said to have begged the emperor to promote him to the rank of German. The men of this party recalled Suvorov, and said that it was necessary not to think, not to puncture a map, but to fight, to strike the enemy, not to let them get into Russia, and not to allow the army to lose courage.

To the third party, in which the Tsar had most confidence, belonged the courtiers who acted as trimmers between the two parties. These men, among whom also was Arakchéev, were not military people, and they thought and said what is generally said by men who have no convictions, but wish to appear as though they had them. They maintained that no doubt the war, especially with such a genius as Bonaparte (he was again called Bonaparte), demanded profound considerations and deep scientific knowledge, and that Pfuel was a brilliant man in this respect ; but that, at the same time, it should not be forgotten that theorists were frequently one-sided, and that, therefore, they could not be fully trusted, that attention ought to be paid to what Pfuel’s antagonists were saying and to what practical people, who were experienced in military affairs, were saying, and that the mean of all ought to be taken. The men of this party maintained that the camp at the Drissa should be kept, but that the movements of all the other armies be changed. They thought that it was better so, although neither the one nor the other end was attained by it.

The fourth tendency was the one of which the most prominent representative was the grand duke, the heir apparent, who could not forget his disenchantment at Austerlitz, where he had ridden out in front of the Guard in helmet and collet, hoping in a dashing manner to crush the French, and, accidentally getting into the first line, had with difficulty saved himself from the general confusion. The men of this party had in their judgments both the quality and the defect of sincerity. They were afraid of Napoleon, saw strength in him and weakness in themselves, and frankly confessed their fears. They said : “ Nothing but grief, shame, and ruin will come of all this ! We have abandoned Vflna and Vitebsk, and we shall also abandon the Orissa. The only sensible thing that there is left for us to do, is to conclude a peace, and that, too, as quickly as possible, before we are driven out of St. Petersburg ! “

This view, which was wide-spread in the higher spheres of the army, had its support in St. Petersburg and in Chancellor Rumydntsev, who was for peace for other state reasons.

The fifth were the partisans of Barclay de Tolly, not only as a man, but also as minister of war and commanderin-chief. They said : ” Whatever he be ” (they always began thus), ” he is an honest, active man, and there is no better man than he. Give him real power, for the war cannot be successful without a uniform command, and he will show what he can do, as he has in Finland. If our army is well organized and strong and has retreated to the Orissa, without having suffered any defeat, we owe this to Barclay de Tolly. If now Barclay is to be supplanted by Bénigsen, all will be ruined, because Bénigsen showed his incapacity in the year 1807.”

The sixth, the adherents of Bénigsen, on the contrary, said that, in spite of all, there was no one who was more active and more experienced than Bénigsen, and that, twist as you may, you will have to come back to him. ” Let them now make blunders,” and the men of this party proved that our retreat to the Orissa was a most disgraceful defeat and a continuous series of blunders, ” the more such blunders they make, the better, — at least they will soon come to understand that it is not possible to proceed in this manner,” they said. ” What is needed is not a Barclay, or some such man, but one of Bénigsen’s type, who had already shown himself in 1807, to whom Napoleon had done justice, and to whom the power would readily be conceded, in short, no other than Bénigsen.”

The seventh consisted of persons who are generally to be found about a young emperor and of whom there was an especially large number about Emperor Alexander, generals and aids-de-camp, who were passionately devoted to the Tsar, worshipping him sincerely and disinterestedly, not as the emperor, but as a man, just as Bostév had worshipped him in 1805, and who saw in him, not only all human virtues, but also all human qualities. Though these persons admired the modesty of the emperor, who had refused the command of the armies, they censured his excessive modesty, and wished and insisted that the emperor should abandon his excessive diffidence and should openly announce that he stationed himself at the bead of the army, that he should form the staff headquarters of the commanderin-chief, and, taking counsel, where necessary, with experienced theorists and practical men, should himself lead his troops, which would be thus brought to the highest degree of exaltation !

The eighth was the largest group of men, which by its enormous numbers stood to the others in the relation of ninety-nine to one, and consisted of men who wanted neither peace nor war, nor offensive movements, nor a defensive camp at the Orissa, nor anywhere else, nor Barclay, nor the emperor, nor Pfuel, nor Bénigsen ; they cared only for one essential thing, — to obtain as many personal advantages and pleasures as possible. In that turbid water of conflicting and tangled intrigues, which swarmed at the headquarters of the emperor, one could succeed in many things, which at any other time would have been impossible. One, not wishing to lose the comfortable position which he was occupying, to-day agreed with Pfuel, tomorrow with his opponent, and on the next day affirmed that he had no opinion on a certain subject, only that he might avoid responsibility and please the emperor. Another, wishing to gain some advantage, directed the emperor’s attention to himself, loudly proclaiming that which the emperor had hinted on the previous day, disputing and shouting in the council, striking his breast, and challenging his opponents to a duel, by which he gave satisfactory proof that he was prepared to sacrifice himself for the common good. A third, in the interval between two councils and in the absence of his enemies, simply begged for some stipend in recognition of his faithful service, knowing full well that there was no time to refuse his request. A fourth kept accidentally getting into the emperor’s way and appearing overwhelmed by work. A fifth, to obtain a long desired invitation to the emperor’s dinner, furiously defended or attacked a newly expressed opinion, and for this purpose adduced more or less strong and just proofs.

All the men of this party caught roubles, crosses, and ranks, and in this hunt followed only the direction of the weather-vane of the imperial favour. The moment they noticed that the weather-vane had turned to one side, all this drone population of the army began to blow in the same direction, so that it became difficult for the emperor to turn it around. Amidst the indefiniteness of the situation and the imminent and serious danger, which gave to everything a peculiarly agitated character, amidst this whirl of intrigues, self-love, conflicts, varied views and feelings, amidst the heterogeneity of nations composing this class, the eighth, the largest of all parties, which was occupied with its personal interests, made the course of the whole matter more complicated and more confused. No matter what question arose, the swarm of these drones, without having finished their trumpeting on the previous theme, flew over to the new, and with their buzzing drowned and more and more confused the voices of those who were discussing matters sincerely.

Just as Prince Andréy reached the army, there arose out of these parties another, the ninth, which was beginning to make itself heard. It was the party of old, sensible, statesmanlike men who, without sharing any of the conflicting views, knew how to look in the abstract at everything which was taking place at the staff of the headquarters, and to consider means for coming out of this indefiniteness, indecision, entanglement, and weakness.

The men of this party said and believed that everything bad was mainly due to the presence of the emperor with his military court, and that the indefinite, conventional, and wavering frailness of relations, which was convenient at court, but harmful to the army, had been transferred there ; that the emperor ought to rule, but not direct the troops; that the only issue from this situation was the departure of the emperor with his court; that the presence of the emperor paralyzed the action of fifty thousand soldiers who were necessary to secure his personal safety ; that the worst independent commanderin-chief would be better than the best, who was embarrassed by the presence and power of the emperor.

While Prince Andréy was living unattached at the Drfssa camp, Shishkov, the secretary of state, who was one of the representatives of this party, wrote the emperor a letter, which Balashév and Arakchéev agreed to sign. Having been granted permission by the Tsar to discuss the general course of the war, he respectfully proposed to the emperor that he leave the army, under the pretext that he was needed in the capital, in order to animate its population to the war.

To stir the people and to invite them to defend the country, to cause the outburst of enthusiasm (such as had been produced in Moscow by the presence of the

Tsar), which was to become the chief cause of Russia’s triumph, was a duty which was left to the emperor and which he accepted as his excuse for departing from the army.

X.

This letter had not yet been handed to the Tsar, when Barclay at dinner informed Bolkdnski that the emperor wished to see him, in order to ask him some questions about Turkey, and that Prince Andréy was to appear at Bénigsen’s quarters at six o’clock in the evening.

On that same day news was received at the Tsar’s headquarters about a new movement of Napoleon, which might be perilous to the army, — news which later proved to be unfounded. On the same morning, Colonel Michaud examined with the emperor the fortifications at the Orissa, proving to him that this fortified camp, which had been constructed by Pfuel and which until then had been regarded as the chef-d’œuvre of tactical science and which was to ruin Napoleon, — that this camp was a piece of stupidity and would be the ruin of the Russian army.

Prince Andréy arrived at the quarters of General Bénigsen, who was occupying a small house of a landed proprietor on the very bank of the river. Neither Bénigsen nor the emperor was there ; but Chemyshév, the Tsar’s aid-de-camp, received Bolkdnski and informed him that the emperor had gone out, for the second time that day, with General Bénigsen and Marquis Paulucci, in order to examine the fortifications of the Orissa camp, about the utility of which they were beginning to have serious doubts.

Chemyshév was sitting with a French novel at a window of the first room. This room had, no doubt, once been a parlour ; in it still stood an organ, over which were

thrown some rugs, and in one corner of it was the folding bed of Bénigsen’s adjutant. The adjutant was there. He was apparently tired out from the effects of a banquet or of work, was sitting on the folded bedclothes, and dozing. Two doors led out of the parlour : one opened into that which once had been a drawingroom, while the other, on the right, led to the cabinet. Through the first door could be heard voices of men speaking in German and now and then in French. There, in tjie former drawingroom, were gathered, at the emperor’s request, not a council of war (the Tsar was fond of indefiniteness), but a few persons whose opinion, in the impending trouble, he wished to know. It was not a council of war, but, as it were, a council of men chosen to explain certain questions personally to the emperor. To this informal council had been invited the Swedish General Armfeldt, AdjutantGeneral Wolzogen, Wintzingerode, whom Napoleon had called a fugitive French subject, Michaud, Toll, Count Stein, who was not at all a military man, and, finally, Pfuel himself, who, as Prince Andréy had heard, was ” le cheville ouvrière ” of the whole affair. Prince Andréy had a good chance to study him because Pfuel arrived soon after him, and, having talked a minute with Chemyshév, passed to the drawingroom.

At first sight, Pfuel, in his badly made uniform of a Russian general, which sat loosely on him as though he were in disguise, appeared familiar to Prince Andréy, though he had never seen him. There was in him something of Weyrother, and Mack, and Schmidt, and many other German theoretical generals, whom Prince Andréy had seen in the year 1805 ; but he was more typical than they. He had never before seen such a German theorist, who united in his person all that was in those other Germans.

Pfuel was not tall, and was very lean, but broad-boned, of a coarse, sound, bodily structure, with a broad pelvis and bony shoulders. His face was very wrinkled and had deep-set eyes. His hair had apparently been hastily combed in front, over the temples, with a brush, but in the back it naïvely towered in tufts. Upon entering, he looked restlessly and angrily about him, as though he were afraid for everything in the large room where he was. Holding his sword, he, with an awkward motion, turned to Chemyshév, asking him in German where the emperor was. Evidently he wanted to pass through the rooms as quickly as possible, to get done with the bowing and greeting, and to sit down to work over the map, where he felt himself in his place. He hurriedly shook his head in response to Chernyshév’s words and smiled sarcastically, as he listened to his words about the emperor’s examining the fortifications which he, Pfuel, had constructed according to his theory. He muttered something in a bass, abrupt voice, such as selfconfident Germans speak in ; it was something like, “Dummkopf” or “Zu Grunde die ganze Geschichte ” or ” ‘S wird was Gescheites draus werden..” Prince Andréy did not make out what he said, and wanted to pass by him, but Chemyshév introduced Prince Andréy to Pfuel, remarking that Prince Andréy was just back from Turkey where the war had been ended so successfully. Pfuel barely looked up, not so much at Prince Andréy, as past him, and said, laughing : ” Da muss ein schöner taktishcer Krieg gewesen sein ! ” Laughing a contemptuous laugh, he walked into the room whence the voices were heard.

It was evident that Pfuel, who was always ready to become ironically irritated, was now particularly excited because they had taken the liberty of examining the camp without him, and of censuring him. Prince Andréy, thanks to his Austerlitz recollections, from this one short meeting with Pfuel formed a clear conception of the man’s character. Pfuel was hopelessly, unchangeably, to the point of martyrdom, self-conscious, one of those men who are found only among the Germans, for the reason that only the Germans are self-conscious on the basis of an abstract idea, of science, that is, of a supposed knowledge of the complete truth. A Frenchman is self-conscious because he reveres his mind and his body, which he regards as invincibly enchanting both to men and women. An Englishman is self-conscious on the ground of his being a citizen of the best regulated government in the world, and because, as an Englishman, he always knows what has to be done, and that all which he, as an Englishman, is doing, is good. An Italian is self-conscious because he is agitated and easily forgets himself and others. A Russian is self-conscious for the very reason that he does not know anything and does not wish to know anything, and because he does not believe that it is possible to know anything. A German is selfconfident in a worse, firmer, and more disgusting manner than the rest, because he imagines that he knows the truth, — the science, which he has himself invented, but which to him is the absolute truth. Such apparently was Pfuel. lie had a science, — the theory of oblique movement, which he had deduced from the wars of Frederick the Great, and every tiring which he found in modern military history appeared to him as insipidity, barbarism, a monstrous conflict, in which so many mistakes were made on both sides that these wars could not be called wars : they did not fit in with the theory, and could not serve as subjects of science.

In the year 1806, Pfuel had been one of the authors of the plan of the war which ended with Jena and Auer-städt; but in the result of it he did not see the least proof of the irregularity of his theory. On the contrary, the departures from his theory, according to his idea, were the only cause of the whole failure, and he said, with his characteristic merry irony, ” Ich sagte ja, dass die ganze Geschichte zum Teufel gehen werde ! ” Pfuel was one of those theorists who so love their theory that they forget its aim, — its application to practice ; out of love for the theory he despised all practice, and did not want to hear a word about it. He really took delight in a failure, because such a failure, due to departures in practice from the theory, only proved to him the justice of his theory.

He had said a few words to Prince Andréy and Chernyshev about the impending war, with the expression of a man who knows in advance that everything will be bad, and who is not even dissatisfied with it. The uncombed tufts of hair which towered on the back of his head and the hastily brushed locks proved this most eloquently.

He passed to the other room, from which came immediately the grumbling bass sounds of his voice.

XL

Prince Andréy was still following Pfuel with his eyes, when Count Bénigsen hastily entered the room and, merely nodding to Bolkénski and without stopping, walked into the cabinet, where he gave his adjutant some orders. The Tsar was coming after him, and Bénigsen had hastened ahead in order to prepare a few things and be ready to receive the emperor. Chernyshév and Prince Andrey went out on the porch. The emperor looked tired as he dismounted from his horse. Marquis Paulucci was speaking to him. The emperor, bending his head to the left, was listening with a dissatisfied look to Paulucci, who was speaking with great animation. The Tsar moved forward, evidently wishing to end the conversation ; but the Italian, red with excitement and forgetting all propriety, followed him and kept saying :

” Quant à celui qui a conseillé ce camp, le camp de Drissa,” said Paulucci, just as the emperor ascended the steps and, noticing Prince Andréy, began to gaze at the unfamiliar face.

” Quant à celui, Sire” continued Paulucci, in a tone of despair, as though unable to contain himself any longer, ” qui a conseillé le camp de Drissa, je ne vois pas d’autre alternative que la maison jaune ou le gibet.”

Without waiting to hear all the Italian had to say, the emperor, who had in the meantime recognized Bolkénski, graciously turned to him :

” I am very glad to see you. Go where they are all gathered, and wait for me ! “

The emperor went to the cabinet. He was followed by Prince Peter Mikhaylovich Volkénski and Baron Stein, and the door was closed after him. Prince Andréy, taking advantage of the permission granted him by the Tsar, went with Paulucci, whom he had known in Turkey, to the drawingroom, where the council was meeting.

Prince Peter Mikhaylovich Volkénski occupied a position which might be called that of chief of the emperor’s staff. He came out of the cabinet and, taking some maps to the drawingroom and spreading them out there, put the questions to which he wished to hear the opinion of the gentlemen assembled ; in the night there had been received the news (which later proved false) that the French were advancing in order to surround the Drissa camp.

The first one to speak was General Armfeldt, who, to escape the impending difficulty, suddenly proposed an entirely new, inexplicable position, to one side of the St. Petersburg and Moscow roads, where, in his opinion, the army should unite and wait for the enemy. This plan could not be explained on any other ground than by his desire to show that he, too, had an opinion. It was evident that it had been made long before by Armfeldt, and that he was now expounding it not so much for the purpose of answering the questions which had been put, with which the plan had nothing to do, as for the purpose of using the opportunity for expressing his view. It was one of a million propositions which could have been made with just as much reason, without having the least idea what character the war would assume. A few opposed his view, others defended it. The young Colonel Toll disputed the opinion of the Swedish general more excitedly than the rest and, during the discussion, took a well-filled manuscript out of his side pocket, and asked permission to read it. In this elaborate exposition, Toll proposed another plan, which was diametrically opposed to Armfeldt’s and Pfuel’s plans of the campaign. Paulucci, retorting to Toll, proposed a plan of a forward movement and attack, which alone, so he said, could take us out of uncertainty and out of the trap, as he called the Drissa camp, in which we then were.

Pfuel and his interpreter Wolzogen, who acted as a kind of a bridge in his relations with the court, were silent during the discussion. Pfuel only snorted disdainfully and turned his face away to show that he would never lower himself so far as to reply to all the nonsense which he was hearing. But when Prince Volkonski, who guided the discussion, invited him to express his opinion, he only said :

” Why ask me ? General Armfeldt has proposed a superb position with an open rear, or you have the attack von diesem italienischen Herrn. Sehr schön. Or a retreat. Aïich gut. Why ask me, then ? You know everything better than I do.”

But when Volkonski, frowning, said that he was asking for his opinion in the name of the emperor, Pfuel rose and suddenly said, with animation :

” They have spoiled everything and mixed everything up, and wanted to know everything better than I do, and now they come to me to ask me how to mend matters. There is nothing to mend. All that is necessary is to execute orders precisely on the lines indicated by me,” he said, knocking the table with his bony fingers. ” Where is the difficulty ? Nonsense, Kinderspiel ! “

He went up to a map and began to speak rapidly, pointing with his lean finger on the map, and proving that no accident could change the usefulness of the Drissa camp, that everything had been foreseen, and that, if the enemy really meant to surround the camp, they would certainly be destroyed.

Paulucci, who did not understand German, began to put questions to him in French. Wolzogen came to the assistance of his chief, who spoke French badly, and began to translate his words, with difficulty following Pfuel, who spoke hurriedly as he explained that everything, everything, not only everything which had happened, but which might happen, everything had been provided for in his plan, and that, if there were any difficulties, the fault was that his orders had not been carried out with precision. He kept smiling ironically, and proved, and finally ceased proving, with a contemptuous look, just as a mathematician gives up verifying by different methods the once proved correctness of a problem. Wolzogen was his representative, expounding Ins ideas in French and now and then saying to Pfuel : ” Nicht wahr, Exccllcnz ? ” Pfuel, like a man who gets excited in a battle and strikes his own people, kept shouting angrily at his own Wolzogen :

” Nun ja, was soll denn da noch expliziert werden ? “

Paulucci and Michaud together attacked Wolzogen in French. Armfeldt addressed Pfuel in German. Toll explained things to Prince Volkdnski in Russian. Prince Andréy listened silently and made his observations.

Of all these persons, the most sympathetic to Prince Andréy was the irascible, determined, and senselessly selfconfident Pfuel. He was apparently the only one of all the persons present who did not wish anything for himself and who had no personal enmities, but only wished for one thing, — the materialization of his plan, based on a theory which had been deduced by years of labour. He was ridiculous and disagreeable with his irony, but, at the same time, he inspired one with involuntary respect on account of his boundless devotion to an idea. Besides, in the speeches of all those who spoke, except in Pfuel’s speech, there was one common feature, which had not been in the military council of the year 1805 : it was an ill-disguised, panic terror before Napoleon’s genius, which was betrayed in every expression. Everything was regarded as possible to Napoleon ; he was expected from all sides, and with his terrible name they annihilated each other’s suppositions. Pfuel seemed to be the only one who regarded Napoleon as just such a barbarian as all the opponents of his theory.

But, in addition to the feeling of respect, Pfuel inspired Prince Andréy also with a feeling of pity. To judge from the tone in which the courtiers addressed him, and from what Paulucci had allowed himself to say to the emperor, but, above all, from a certain despair perceptible in Pfuel’s own expressions, it was evident that the others knew, and he himself felt, that his fall was near at hand. And so, in spite of his selfconfidence and German grumbling and irony, he was pitiable, with his well-brushed hair over his forehead and his towering tufts in the back of his head. Though he, apparently, concealed this under the guise of irritation and contempt, he was in despair, because the only chance which he had to verify his theory on a grand scale, and to prove to the whole world its correctness, was slipping away from him.

The discussions lasted for a long time, and the longer they lasted, the more excited the men became, having recourse to shouting and to personalities, and the less it became possible to come to any general conclusion from all that had been said. Prince Andréy, listening to this Babel of tongues and to these propositions, plans, réfutais, and shouts, only wondered what it was they were talking about. The ideas, which had assailed him long ago, during his military activity, that there was no such a thing as a military science, and that there could be none, and that, consequently, there could not be what is called a military genius, now appeared to him as manifest truth.

« What theory and science can there be in a matter, the conditions and circumstances of which are unknown and cannot be defined, and in which the acting forces of the war are still less definable ? Nobody has known or can know, in what position our army and that of the enemy will be in a day, and nobody can tell what the strength of tins or that detachment may be. At times, when there is no coward in front, who will shout, ‘ We are cut off ! ‘ and will run; but when there is, instead, a bold, cheerful fellow, who will shout, ‘ Hurrah ! ‘ a detachment of five thousand will be worth another of thirty thousand, as was the case at Schöngraben ; while at other times fifty thousand soldiers will run away from eight thousand, as was the case at Austerlitz. How can there be a science in a matter, in which, as in every’ practical matter, nothing can be determined, and everything depends on an endless number of conditions, the significance of which is determined at a minute, winch will arrive no one knows when ? Armfeldt says that our army is cut off, and Paulucci maintains that we have placed the French army between two fires ; Michaud says that the defect of the Drfssa camp is due to the fact that the river is in the rear, and Pfuel says that that is its strength. Toll proposes one plan, and Armfeldt proposes another; and all are good, and all are bad, and the advantages of any proposition will become manifest only at the moment when the event takes place. Why do all say that there is a military genius ? Is the man who knows how to order in time to have the hardtack supplied, and to send tins one to the right and that one to the left, a genius, merely because military men are clad in splendour and vested with power, and the masses of the scoundrels flatter power and improperly attach to it the qualities of genius ? On the contrary, the best generals whom I have known are either stupid or absent-minded men. The best of them is Bagratidn, — Napoleon himself has regarded him as such. And Bonaparte himself ? I remember the self-satisfied and blunt expression of his face on the field of Austerlitz. A good general not only needs no genius, or any other special qualities, but, on the contrary, he needs an absence of all the highest and best human qualities, — love, poetry, tenderness, and philosophic and inquisitive doubt. He must be narrow and firmly convinced that what he is doing is very important (otherwise his patience will give way), and then only will he be a brave general. God forfend that he should be human, and love and pity any one, and think of what is right or wrong ! Naturally the theory of genius was invented for such men in ancient times, because they are a power. The success of a military affair does not depend on them, but on the man who in the ranks calls out, ‘ We are lost ! ‘ or, ‘ Hurrah ! ‘ It is only in the ranks that one can serve with the conviction that one is useful ! “

Thus thought Prince Andréy, as he listened to the discussion, and he was roused from Ins reflections only when Paulucci called him, and all began to depart.

On the following day, at the review, the emperor asked Prince Andréy where he wished to serve, and Prince Andréy was for ever lost to the court, since he did not ask to be left near the person of the emperor, but begged permission to serve in the army.

XII.

Before the beginning of the campaign, Piostdv had received a letter from his parents, in which he was briefly informed of Natdsha’s illness and of the rupture with Prince Andréy (it was explained to him on the ground of Natdsha’s refusal), and he was again asked to take his dismissal and return home. Upon receiving this letter, Nikoläy did not even make an attempt at getting a furlough or dismissal, but only wrote to his parents that he was sorry for Natasha’s illness and rupture with her fiancé, and that he would do everything in his power to fulfil their wish. To S6nya he wrote separately:

” Adored Friend of my Soul : — Nothing but honour could keep me from returning to the country ; but now, before the beginning of the campaign, I should consider myself disgraced, not only in the eyes of my comrades, but even in my own opinion, if I preferred my happiness to my duty and love of country. This is our last separation ! Believe me, as soon as the war is over, if I am alive and still loved by you, I shall throw up every tiling and fly to you, in order to press you for ever to my flaming breast.”

Indeed, it was only the opening of the campaign which detained Rostév and kept him from returning, as he had promised, and marrying Sonya. The autumn at Otradnoe, with its chase, and the winter, with the Christmas holidays and with Sénya’s love, opened to him a perspective of quiet country squire pleasures and calm, which he had not known before, and which now enticed him. ” An excellent wife, children, a good pack of hounds, ten or twelve leashes of swift greyhounds, neighbours, duties connected with the elections ! ” he thought. But now the campaign was on, and he had to remain in the regiment. And as this was a matter of necessity, Nikoldy Rostov, by his natural disposition, was satisfied with the life which he was leading in the army, and knew how to make this life agreeable for liimself.

After his return from his furlough, Nikolay had been received with joy by his comrades, and then he was sent for remounts. He brought with him from Little-Russia some very fine horses, which gave him pleasure and earned him praises from his superiors. During his absence he was promoted to the rank of captain, and when the regiment was placed on a war footing, with an increased complement, he again received his old squadron.

The campaign began. The regiment was moved into Poland ; double pay was now given ; there arrived new officers, new men, new horses ; and, above all, there was abroad that joyful animation which always exists in the beginning of a war. Rostov, conscious of his advantageous position in the army, abandoned himself entirely to the pleasures and interests of the military service, though he knew that sooner or later he would have to give them up.

The troops retreated from Vilna for various complex, political, and tactical reasons, and reasons of state. Every step of the retreat was accompanied by a complicated game of interests, ratiocinations, and passions at the head staff. But for the hussars of the Pavlogrddski regiment, all this retrogressive campaign, at the best season of the year, with sufficient supplies, was a very simple and agreeable matter. It was only at headquarters that they despaired, were restless, and intrigued ; but in the army itself they did not ask whither they were going, or for what purpose. If they did feel sorry to retreat, it was because they hated to leave a comfortable room, or a pretty Polish lass. If it did occur to this or that man that affairs were in a bad shape, such a one, as was proper for a military man, tried to be jolly and not to think of the general course of events, but only to busy himself about his immediate affairs.

At first they had been pleasantly located near Vilna, where they became acquainted with the Polish landed proprietors, and waited for and went through reviews for the emperor and other superior commanders. Then came the order to retreat to Sventsydny and to destroy the provisions which they could not carry with them. Sventsydny was memorable to the hussars because it was a ” drunken camp,” as the whole army had called the halt there, and because in Sventsydny there were many complaints against the army because, having received orders to levy provision, they took away horses, carriages, and carpets from the Polish proprietors. Rostov remembered Sventsydny because, on the first day after entering the little town, he changed his sergeant-major and could not get along with the extremely drunken soldiers of the squadron, who without his knowledge had carried off five kegs of old beer. From Sventsydny they retreated more and more, to the Drissa, and from the Drissa they again retreated, toward the Russian border.

On July 13th the Pavlogrddski regiment was for the first time in a serious engagement. On the previous night there had been a severe storm with rain and hail. The summer of 1812 was, altogether, remarkable for its storms. Two squadrons of the Pavlogrddski regiment were bivouacked in the middle of a field of rye, which had been standing in full ear, but now was completely tramped out by the cattle and the horses. The rain came down in sheets. Rostdv and a young officer, Ilin, who was under his protection, were sitting in a tent which had been pitched in a hurry. An officer of their regiment, with a long moustache, which was continued from his cheeks, on his way back from the staff and caught in the rain, went in to see Rostov.

” Count, I am just coming back from the staff. Have you heard of Raévski’s exploit? ” And the officer proceeded to tell the details of the battle at Laltanovka, of which he had heard at the staff.

Rostov shrugged his shoulders, as the water was running down his neck, and smoked a pipe. He listened inattentively, and now and then looked at the young officer, Ilin, who was pressing close to him. This officer, a boy of sixteen years, who had but lately entered the regiment, was now to Nikolay what Nikolây himself had been to Denisov seven years before. Ilin tried to imitate Rostdv in every tiling, and loved him as only women love.

The officer with the double moustache, Zdrzhinski, told them in pompous language that the dam at Saltdnovka was the Thermopylæ of the Russians, because on that dam General Raévski had done an act worthy of antiquity. Zdrzhinski told them bow Raévski had taken his two sons out on the dam, while a terrible fire was poured on them, and how he went with them to the attack. Rostov listened to the story, and not only said nothing to confirm Zdrzhinski in his enthusiasm, but, on the contrary, had the aspect of a man who is ashamed of what he is being told, though he does not intend to make any reply. Rostév knew, from personal experience, after his campaigns at Austerlitz and in the year 1807, that people always be when they tell of military events, just as he himself used to prevaricate ; in the second place, he was experienced enough to know that things did not take place in battles as we imagine them, or could tell about them. For this reason he did not like Zdrzhinski’s story, just as he did not like Zdrzhinski himself, who, with his moustache extending to his cheeks, was in the habit of bending low over the face of the person to whom he was talking, and was crowding him in his tent. Rostov looked at him in silence.

” In the first place, there must have been such a tangle and disorder on the dam which was being attacked that, if Raévski really took out his sons, this could not have had any effect on any more than ten of the nearest men,” thought Rostév, ” while the others could not even have seen with whom Raévski was walking over the dam. And even those who saw them could not have been very much inspired, because what could they care for the tender feelings of a father, when their own hides were in danger ? Then again, whether the dam of Salténovka was taken or not, it could have no effect upon the fate of the country, as was the case with Thermopylae Consequently, what sense was there in bringing such a sacrifice ? Then again, what have one’s own children to do in the war ? I myself not only would not think of taking Pétya out, but would even try to place Ilin, this good boy, who is a stranger to me, somewhere in a protected place,” Rostév continued to think, as he listened to Zdrzhinski.

He did not utter his thoughts, experience having taught him the futility of it. He knew that this story had had the effect of glorifying our arms, and so it was necessary to look as though one did not doubt the story. And so he did.

” Really, I can’t stand it any longer,” said Ilin, who had noticed that Rostov did not like Zdrzhinski’s conversation, ” my stockings and shirt are wet, and the water is running on my seat. I will go and look for a dry place. It seems the rain has let up.”

Ilin went out, and Zdrzhinski departed.

Five minutes later Ihn, splashing through the mud, ran up to the tent.

” Hurrah! Rostov, let us go quick! I have found it!

About two hundred steps from here there is a tavern, and our officers are there already. We shall at least get dry, and Mdrya Genrikhovna is there.”

Märya Genrikhovna was the wife of the doctor of the regiment. She was a pretty young German woman, whom the doctor had married in Poland. The doctor, either because he had no means, or because during the first of his married life he did not wish to be separated from his young wife, took her along with the regiment of hussars, and his jealousy had become the common subject of jokes among the officers of hussars.

Rostov threw a cloak over him, called Lavrushka, telling him to take his things along, and went with Ilin, now tottering in the mud, now splashing in the puddles, through the darkness of the night, which was occasionally broken by distant lightning. The rain was letting up.

” Rostov, where are you ? “

“ Here. What a flash of lightning ! ” he answered.

XIII.

In the tavern, in front of which stood the doctor’s cart, there were already five officers. Mdrya Genrikhovna, a plump blond German woman, in dressing-sack and nightcap, was sitting in the front corner on a broad bench. Her husband, the doctor, was sleeping back of her. Rostdv and Ilin entered the room and were received with merry acclamations and loud laughter.

” Oho ! You are having a jolly time ! ” Rostdv said, laughing.

“ And why are you so gloomy ? “

« They look fine ! Lee how the water is running off them ! Don’t get our drawingroom wet ! “

“ Don’t soil Märya Genrikhovna’s garments ! ” said some one else.

Rostdv and Ilin hastened to find a corner where, without offending Mdrya Genrikhovna’s modesty, they might take off their wet clothes. They went behind a partition ; but the small storeroom was completely filled by three officers who, with a candle placed on an empty box, were playing cards, and were unwilling to yield their places on any conditions. Marya Genrikhovna for a time let them have her skirt, which was used as a curtain, and behind it Rostdv and Ilin, with the help of Lavrushka, who had brought the baggage, took off their wet, and put on dry, clothes.

A fire was made in the dilapidated stove. A board was found, which was firmly placed on two saddles ; this was covered with a piece of cloth, then a small samovdr, a lunch-basket, and half a bottle of rum were brought out, and Mdrya Genrikhovna was asked to be the hostess. All crowded around her. One offered her a clean handkerchief with which to wipe her charming little hands ; another placed his Hungarian coat under her feet, in order to keep them from getting damp ; a third hung his overcoat over the window, so as to keep out the draught; while a fourth kept the flies away from her husband’s face, that he might not wake up.

“ Leave him alone,” said Mdrya Genrikhovna, smiling timidly and with an expression of happiness, ” he will sleep well anyway after a wakeful night.”

” I cannot help it, Mdrya Genrikhovna,” replied the officer, ” I must do the doctor a service. Maybe he will be merciful with me when he has to cut off a hand or foot of mine.”

There were only three glasses in all ; the water was so dirty that it was impossible to decide whether the tea was strong or weak, and the samovdr held only six glasses ; but it was so much the more pleasant to receive one’s glass in turn, by seniority, from the plump hands of Marya Genrikhovna, with her short, not scrupulously clean, nails. All the officers on that evening really seemed to be in love with her. Even the officers who were playing cards behind the partition soon gave up the game and came out to the samovar, falling in with the universal mood of paying court to Mdrya Genrikhovna. Seeing herself surrounded by such brilliant and polite young men, she beamed with happiness, no matter how much she tried to conceal it, and no matter how much she apparently felt embarrassed at every motion of her husband who was sleeping behind her.

There was but one spoon. There was plenty of sugar, but as no one stirred it well, it was decided that she should stir the sugar for each in succession. Having received his glass, Rostov added some rum to it and asked Marya Genrikhovna to stir it for him.

” But you have no sugar,” she said, smiling all the time, as though everything which she said and which the others said were exceedingly funny and had another meaning, too.

” I do not care so much for the sugar as that you should stir it with your little hand.”

Marya Genrikhovna agreed to do so, and started to look for the spoon, which somebody else had taken away.

” You stir it with your little finger, Marya Genrikhovna,” said Rostov, “it will be so much the more agreeable.”

” It is hot ! ” said Mdrya Genrikhovna, blushing from pleasurable excitement.

Ilin took a bucket with water, and, dropping some rum into it, came to Marya Genrikhovna and asked her to stir that with her little finger.

“This is my cup,” he said. “Just put in your little finger and I will drink it all.”

When the samovar was emptied, Rostov took a pack of cards and proposed playing ” kings ” with Marya Genrikhovna. A lot was cast to see who should play with Mdrya Genrikhovna. According to Rostov’s proposition, it was the rule of the game that the ” king ” should kiss her hand, and that he who should be the booby should prepare a samovdr for the doctor, when he awoke.

“ Well, and if Marya Genrikhovna is the king ? ” asked Ilin.

” She is a queen as it is, and her commands are law.”

The game had just begun, when back of Marya Genrikhovna suddenly rose the dishevelled head of the doctor. He had not been sleeping for some time, and had been, listening to what was being said, and apparently found nothing jolly, funny, or entertaining in anything that was being done or said. His face was sad and gloomy. He did not greet the officers, but only scratched himself and asked permission to go out, as his way was barred. The moment he had left, all the officers burst into loud guffaws, and Marya Genrikhovna blushed till the tears came, and thus, to the thinking of the officers, became more attractive than before. After returning from the outside, the doctor informed his wife, who no longer had such a happy smile, and was looking at him in fright, waiting for her sentence, that the rain had passed and that it was necessary to go to the cart to sleep, or else everything would be carried off.

” But I will send an orderly there, or even two of them,” said Rostdv. ” Don’t say that, doctor ! “

” I will myself stand sentinel! ” said Ilin.

” No, gentlemen, you have had your sleep, but I have not slept for two nights,” said the doctor. He sat down gloomily by the side of his wife, waiting for the end of the game.

Looking at the sullen face of the doctor, as he kept glancing awry at his wife, the officers felt merrier still, and many of them were unable to keep from laughing, for which they endeavoured to discover some proper reasons. When the doctor went out with his wife and placed her in the cart, the officers lay down in the tavern and covered themselves with their wet overcoats ; but it was a long time before they fell asleep, for they were recalling the doctor’s fright and his wife’s merriment, or some one ran out on the porch to find out what was going on in the cart. Rostov several times wrapped up his head and wanted to fall asleep ; but again somebody’s remark distracted him, again they started a conversation, and again there was heard groundless, merry, childish laughter.

XIV.

At three o’clock nobody was asleep yet, when a sergeant-major came with an order to move to the town of Ostrdvna.

Talking and laughing as merrily as before, the officers began to get ready hurriedly ; again the samovér was prepared with dirty water. But Rostov did not wait for the tea, and went at once to his squadron. Day was breaking ; the rain had stopped, the clouds were dispersing. It was damp and cold, and especially so in wet clothes. Leaving the tavern, Rostov and Ilin peered in the twilight into the leather-covered cart which looked shining from the rain, and out of the boot of which towered the doctor’s feet, while in the middle could be seen his wife’s cap resting on a pillow, and could be heard the even breathing of sleep.

” Really, she is very charming ! ” Rostov said to Ilin, who came out with him.

” A superb woman ! ” Ilin replied, with the seriousness of a boy of sixteen years.

Half an hour later the squadron was drawn up on the road. The command was given, and the soldiers made the sign of the cross and began to mount. Rostdv rode out in front and commanded, ” March ! ” and the hussars, forming in rows of four, with a splash of their horses’ feet on the wet road, with the clanking of sabres, and with quiet conversations, moved along the birch-lined highway, behind the infantry and battery, which preceded them.

The tattered lilac clouds, crimsoning in the east, were rapidly driven by the wind. It was growing lighter and lighter. One could clearly see the curly grass, which always grows on the country roads, and which was still wet from the rain of the previous day ; the pendent boughs of the birches, themselves wet, swayed in the wind and cast bright drops sidewise on the ground. The faces of the soldiers could be told more and more distinctly. Rostov was riding -with Ilin, who did not leave him, on one side of the road, between two rows of birches.

Rostov took the liberty of riding during the campaign, not an army, but a Cossack horse. Being a connoisseur in horse-flesh, he had succeeded in providing himself with a spirited, cream-coloured Don horse, on which he could outride anybody. It was a joy to Rostov to ride this horse. He was thinking of his mount, of the morning, and of the doctor’s wife, but not once of the impending danger.

Formerly Rostov used to be afraid every time when he went into action ; now he did not experience the least feeling of terror. Not because he had become accustomed to the fire (one never gets used to danger) was he without fear, but because he had learned to control his soul before the danger. He had accustomed himself, when going into action, to think of everything, except of what would seem to be most interesting of all, — of the impending danger. No matter how much he had tried, and had rebuked himself for his cowardice, he had been unable, during the first of his service, to overcome it; but as years went on, control became natural to him. He was now riding with Ilin between the rows of birches, now and then tearing off leaves from the branches, which fell into his hands, and now touching the horse’s flanks with his feet, and now again, without turning back, handing his unfinished pipe to the hussar behind him, which he did with a calm and careless look, as though he were out promenading. He felt sorry for Ilin, as he looked at his disturbed face and heard him talk incessantly ; he knew from experience that vexatious condition of expectancy of terror and death, in which the ensign was, and he knew that nothing but time would help him.

The sun had just appeared on a clean strip behind a cloud, when the wind died down, as though it did not dare to spoil that superb summer morning after a storm ; drops were still falling, but only obliquely, — and all grew silent. The sun emerged entirely, showed itself at the horizon, and disappeared in a narrow, long cloud which was standing above it. A few minutes later it appeared brighter still at the upper edge of the cloud, tearing asunder its edges. Everything began to shine and glisten. And simultaneously with this light, as though seconding it, there resounded discharges of guns far to the front.

Rostdv had not yet had time to make out and determine how far away these shots were, when an adjutant of Count Osterman-Tolstdy came galloping along with the order to advance at a quick trot along the road.

The squadron moved past the infantry and the battery, which also was hurrying forward, descended a hill, and, passing a deserted village, again ascended an incline. The horses were beginning to become lathered, and the men were heated.

“ Halt ! Align yourselves ! ” was heard the command of the chief of the division in front. ” Left shoulder forward, forward, march ! ” were the commands given in the van. And the hussars passed down the line of the troops to the left flank of the position, and stationed themselves behind our uhlans, who were in the first line. On the right our infantry stood in a dense column : those were the reserves ; above them, on the hill, our guns, outlined in the clear, clear air against the horizon, could distinctly be seen in the bright, oblique illumination of the morning. In front, the enemy’s columns and guns were visible beyond a ravine. Our cordon could be heard in the ravine ; it had already entered into action and was merrily exchanging a crackling fire with the enemy.

Rostov felt as happy under these long unaccustomed sounds as though they were the most cheerful music. ” Trap-ta-ta-tap ! ” several shots clicked now all together, and now one after another in rapid succession. Again all was silent, and again it sounded as though detonating balls were cracking every time some one walked over them.

The hussars stood for about an hour in one place. Then began a cannonade. Count Osterman with his suite rode down the rear of the squadron ; he stopped to speak with the commander of the regiment, and rode away in the direction of the cannons on the hill.

Immediately after the departure of Osterman, one could hear the command given to the uhlans to form a column for the attack. The infantry in front of them doubled their platoons, so as to let the cavalry pass through. The uhlans moved, swaying the pennons of their lances, and at a quick trot raced down-hill against the French cavalry, which had appeared at the foot of the hill, on the left.

The moment the uhlans had descended the hill, the hussars were ordered to move up to the summit, to protect the battery. Just as the hussars were taking up the position of the uhlans, bullets came from the direction of the cordon, whining and whistling, but not striking any one.

This long unfamiliar sound had an even more cheerful and stirring effect upon Rostov than the former sounds of the reports. He straightened himself up, surveyed the field of battle which was opened to him from the hill, and with his whole soul took part in the movement of the uhlans. They flew at close range against the French dragoons ; something became entangled in the smoke, and five minutes later the uhlans rushed back, not to the place where they had been standing before, but more to the left. Between the orange-coloured uhlans on chestnut horses and behind them could be seen a large throng of French dragoons in blue, mounted on gray horses.

XV.

Rostov, with the sharp eyes of a hunter, was one of the first to observe these blue French dragoons who were in pursuit of our uhlans. Nearer, nearer the uhlans moved in disorganized bands, with the French dragoons behind them. He could see these men, who had appeared so small at the foot of the hill, overtaking one another, and waving their hands or their sabres.

Rostdv looked at that which was going on in front of him, as though it were a chase. He felt instinctively that if he now struck with his hussars against the French dragoons, they would not stand their ground ; but, if he was to strike them, he must do it that very minute, or else it would be too late. He looked around him. The captain, who was standing near him, himself did not take his eyes off the cavalry below him.

“ Andréy Sevastyänych,” said Rostov, ” we can crush them — “

“ It would be a nice thing,” said the captain, « indeed — “

Rostov did not listen any longer ; he spurred his horse, leaped in front of his squadron, and, before he had time to give the proper command, the whole squadron, which felt precisely the same as he, moved after him. Rostdv did not know himself how or why he did it. He simply did it, as he had done things at the chase, without thinking or reflecting. He saw that the dragoons were near, that they were galloping, and were disbanded ; he knew that they would not stand their ground ; he knew that there was but one minute, which would never return, if it was allowed to slip by. The bullets whined and whistled so stirringly all about him, and his horse was so anxious to rush forward, that he could not endure it any longer. He touched his mount, gave a command, and at the same moment, while he heard behind him the tramp of his deploying squadron, went at full trot down-hill against the dragoons. Just before getting to the foot of the hill, the gait of the horses changed to a gallop, which became faster and faster, as they approached their ulilans and the French dragoons, who were in pursuit. The dragoons were near by. Those in front began to turn around the moment they espied the hussars ; those behind checked their horses. With the feeling which he had experienced in trying to cut off the wolf’s escape, Rostdv, sending forward his Don horse at fullest speed, galloped to cut off the retreat of the disorganized ranks of the French dragoons. One uhlan stopped ; a soldier on foot fell down to the ground in order not to be crushed ; a riderless horse got mixed among the hussars. Nearly all the French dragoons were galloping back. Rostdv selected one of them, on a gray horse, and raced after him. On the way he ran up against a bush; his good horse carried him over it, and, adjusting himself in the saddle, he saw that in a few moments he would overtake the enemy whom he had chosen as his prey. This Frenchman, apparently an officer, to judge from his uniform, was bending down over his gray horse and urging it on with his sabre. A moment later, Rostov’s horse struck its breast against the crupper of the officer’s horse, almost knocking it down, and the same moment Rostdv, not knowing why, raised his sabre and struck with it against the Frenchman.

No sooner had he done it than all his animation left him. The officer fell down, not so much from the blow of the sabre, which only lightly cut his arm above the elbow, as from the jarring of the horse and from fright. Rostdv checked his horse and looked for his enemy, in order to see whom he had vanquished. The French officer of dragoons was leaping with one foot on the ground, the other having caught in the stirrup. He blinked in terror, as though expecting any second another blow ; he frowned with an expression of horror, looking up at Rostov. His face, which was pale and bespattered with mud, was of a light complexion and looked youthful; there was a dimple on his chin, his eyes were of a light blue colour ; altogether he had not the appearance of an enemy on the held of battle, but looked like any common mortal. Even before Rostdv had made up his mind what he would do with him, the officer called out, ” Je me rends ! ” He tried hard to disengage his foot from the stirrup, and did not take his frightened blue eyes off Rostdv. Hussars rode up, freed his foot, and put him in the saddle. The hussars were on all sides busy with the dragoons : one was wounded, but, with his face covered with gore, he did not give up his horse ; another was embracing a hussar, as he was sitting on the crupper of his mount ; a third, supported by a hussar, was climbing on his horse. In front ran the French infantry, shooting as it ran. The hussars galloped back with their prisoners. Rostdv went back with them, experiencing a certain disagreeable sensation which oppressed him. Something indistinct and complex, which he was entirely unable to explain to himself, overcame him with the capture of that officer, and with the blow which he had given him.

Count Osterman-Tolstdy met the returning hussars. He called up Rostov, thanked him, and told him that he would inform the emperor of his heroic act, and would ask for the cross of St. George for him. When Rostov was called up to Count Osterman, he, recalling that the attack had been begun without having received an order, was fully convinced that the chief wanted to see him to punish him for his arbitrary act. Therefore Osterman’s flattering words and the promise of a reward ought to have been so much the more agreeable to Rostov; but, instead, the same unpleasant, indistinct feeling caused him moral nausea.

” What is it that torments me so ? ” he asked himself, as he rode away from the general. ” Ilin ? No, he is not wounded. Have I disgraced myself in any way ? No, it is not that ! “

It was something else that was tormenting him,— something like remorse. ” Yes, yes, it is that French officer with the dimple. I remember how my arm was arrested as I raised it to strike.”

Rostdv saw the captives who were being taken away, and he galloped after them in order to see his Frenchman with the dimple in the chin. He looked strange as he sat in his odd uniform, on a stud-horse of a hussar, and kept glancing restlessly about him. His wound on his arm was insignificant. He smiled a feigned smile at Rostov, and waved his arm, as a greeting. Rostdv felt as awkward and as ashamed as before.

Rostdv was all the time thinking of his brilliant exploit, which, to his surprise, had earned him the cross of St. George and had even given him a reputation for bravery, and he was unable to understand it all.

“ So they are afraid even more than we ! ” he thought. ” So this is all there is to heroism ! Did I do it for my country’s sake ? And how is it the fault of that man, with his dimple and his blue eyes ? How frightened he was ! He thought I was going to kill him. Why should I kill him ? My hand trembled, — and I get the cross of St. George. I comprehend nothing, nothing ! ”

Rut while Nikoläy was ruminating on these questions, without arriving at any clear account of what it was that vexed him so, the wheel of fortune in the service, as often happens, was turned in his favour. After the engagement at Ostrdvna he was promoted : he received a battalion of hussars, and whenever there was any need of a brave officer, he was sent out on a mission.

XVI.

Having received the news about Natäsha’s illness, the countess, who was not entirely recovered and was still weak, came with Pétya and the whole household to Moscow, and the family transferred itself from Märya Dmitrievna’s to their own house, and settled down completely in Moscow.

Natäsha’s illness was so serious that, fortunately for her and for her relatives, the thought of what was the cause of her illness, her act and her rupture with her fiancé, passed into the background. She was so ill that it was impossible to think of how much she was to blame for all that had happened, so long as she did not eat, nor sleep, and visibly grew thinner, and coughed, and, as the physicians hinted, was in a precarious state. All they could think of was how to help her. The doctors kept coming to see Natasha singly and in numbers, for consultations, speaking French, and German, and Latin, and censuring each other, and prescribing a great variety of medicines for every possible disease ; but not to one of them did the simple thought occur that they could not know the disease from which Natasha suffered, just as not a single disease which living man is heir to can be known, because each living man has his peculiarities, and always has his especial, new, complicated disease, which is unknown to medicine, — not a disease of the lungs, liver, skin, heart, nerves, and so forth, which are recorded in medicine, but a disease which consists of one of the numberless combinations of these ailing organs. This simple thought could not have occurred to the physicians (just as the thought cannot occur to the sorcerer that he is unable to produce a charm), because it was their business to cure, because they received pay for it, and because they had wasted the best years of their lives on it. But, above all, this thought could not have occurred to the doctors because they saw that they were unquestionably useful, and so they were in the case of the whole Rostov family. They were useful, not because they made the patient swallow a quantity of mostly harmful substances (this harm was not very perceptible because the harmful substances were administered in small doses), but they were useful, necessary, inevitable (for the same reason that there have always been and always will be imaginary healers, sorcerers, homoeopaths, and allopaths), because they satisfied the moral want of the patient and of the people who loved the patient. They satisfied that eternal human need of a hope of finding alleviation, the need of sympathy and activity, which a man experiences during the time of suffering. They satisfied that eternal human need which may be observed in a child in its primitive form,— the need of rubbing the spot which has been hurt. When a child is hurt he immediately runs for the hand of his mother or nurse, to have the sore spot kissed and rubbed, and he feels better the moment that is done. The child will not believe that those who are stronger and wiser than he have no means for allaying his pain. The hope of getting relief and the expression of sympathy while his mother rubs his sore spot give him consolation. The doctors were useful to Natasha in that they kissed and rubbed her sore spot, assuring her that it would all pass soon, if the coachman drove to the apothecary’s in the Arbdt and got there a rouble and seventy kopeks’ worth of pills and powders in a pretty little box, and if these powders were taken by the patient in boiled water at intervals of precisely two hours, neither more nor less.

What would Sdnya, the count, and the countess have done, if they had only looked on without doing anything, if there were not these pills to be taken at stated times, and the drinking of warm concoctions, and the chicken cutlets, and all the details of life, which were prescribed by the physician, and the strict observance of which formed the occupation and consolation of all those who surrounded her?

How would the count have borne the illness of his beloved daughter, if he had not known that Natàsha’s illness cost him one thousand roubles, and that he would not grudge another thousand, if he could only be useful to her ; if he had not known that, if she did not get better, he would not grudge several thousands more, and would take her abroad for consultations ; if he had not had the chance to tell all the details of how Métivier and Feller did not undersand her case, and Fries did understand it, and Mudrov determined what her illness was even better ? What would the countess have done, if she had not been able now and then to quarrel with Natasha for not observing exactly all the prescriptions of the doctor ?

” You will never get well,” she would say, forgetting her sorrow in her vexation, ” if you do not obey the doctor and do not take the medicine on time ! It is no trivial matter when you may get pneumonia,” the countess would say, and would find some measure of consolation in the utterance of this word, which was unintelligible not only to herself, but also to others.

What would Sdnya have done, if she had not had the joyful consciousness that in the beginning of Natasha’s illness she had passed three nights without undressing, only to be ready at the proper time to carry out the doctor’s injunctions, and that even later she did not sleep nights, in order not to miss the hours when it was necessary to give her the harmless pills from the gilt box ?

Even Natäsha herself, who kept saying that no medicine would cure her, and that it was all nonsense, saw with pleasure what sacrifices were made for her in order that she might take the medicine at the proper time. And it even gave her pleasure to be able to neglect to carry out the prescriptions, and thus to show that she did not believe in the cure, and did not value her life.

The doctor came to see her every day. He felt her pulse, looked at her tongue, and, without paying any attention to her dejected face, joked with her. But when he went into the other room, the countess hurriedly followed him, and he, assuming a serious look and pensively shaking his head, told her that, although there was some danger, he hoped to avert it through the action of the latest medicine, that he had to wait and see, that the illness was more of a moral nature, but —

The countess, trying to conceal her act from herself and from the doctor, always pushed a gold coin into his hand, and every time returned to the patient with a feeling of relief.

The symptoms of Natasha’s illness were that she ate and slept little, coughed much, and never became animated. The doctors said that the patient could not be left -without medical assistance, and so she was kept in a close room in the city. During the summer of 1812 the Rostdvs did not go to the country.

In spite of the great quantity of pills, drops, and powders, consumed by her out of bottles and boxes, of which Madame Schoss, who was very fond of such things, made a large collection ; in spite of missing the usual sojourn in the country, youth finally conquered : Natasha’s grief began to be covered by a layer of the impressions of the life which she had lived through, and no longer lay on her heart with such a tormenting pain ; it began to be the past, and Natdsha improved physically.

XVII.

Natasha was calmer, but not merrier. She not only avoided all external conditions of joy, balls, promenades, concerts, the theatre, but she not even once laughed in such a way that the tears could not be heard through her laugh. She could not sing. The moment she began to laugh or tried, while by herself, to sing, tears choked her : tears of repentance, tears caused by the recollection of that irretrievable, pure time, tears of vexation, because she had so uselessly wasted her young life, which might have been so happy. Laughter and singing seemed to her as a kind of a profanation of her hero. Of coquetry she did not even think, and so she did not have to restrain herself in this respect. She said and felt that during that time all men were to her nothing more than the buffoon, Nastasya Ivänovna. An internal guard interdicted every joy for her ; nor were any of the former interests of life left in her from that careless condition of her girlhood, which had been so full of hopes. She thought more frequently and with an ever increasing pang of the autumn months, of the chase, of the uncle, and of the Christmas holidays which she had passed with Nikoldy at Otradnoe. What would she not have given to bring back even one day of that time ! But that was for ever gone. Her presentiment, which she then had, that the condition of freedom and openness to all joy would never return again, had not deceived her. Still, it was necessary to live.

It gave her pleasure to think that she was not better, as she had once thought, but worse, indeed, much worse, than all, all who lived in the world. That was not all. She knew it, and asked herself : ” What will come later ? ” But there was nothing. There was no joy of life, and life was passing. Natäsha apparently was trying only not to be a burden to any one, and not to trouble a soul, but she did not want anything for herself. She kept aloof from all her home people, and felt at ease only with Petya. She liked to be with him rather than with anybody else, and now and then, when left alone with him, she would laugh. She hardly ever went out of the house, and of all the visitors cared to see only Pierre.

It was impossible for any one to be more gentle, more careful, and at the same time more serious, than Count Bezukhi was in Iris treatment of her. Natäsha instinctively felt the gentleness of his treatment, and so experienced great pleasure in his company. But she was not even grateful to him for his gentleness. Nothing good on the part of Pierre seemed to her to be an effort. It appeared to her that it was so natural for Pierre to be good that there was no special desert in his goodness. Now and then Natasha noticed Pierre’s embarrassment and awkwardness in her presence, especially whenever he wanted to cause her some pleasure, or when he was afraid that something in the conversation might turn her mind to oppressive memories. She noticed that, and ascribed it to his general goodness and timidity, which according to her idea must be the same in others that it was in her. After those accidental words, that, if he were free, he would on his knees ask for her hand and love, uttered by him at the moment of her great agitation, Pierre had never again mentioned his feelings to Natäsha; and it was evident to her that the words, which at that time had been so consoling to her, had been said in the same spirit in which one says meaningless words to a weeping child, in order to console it. Not because Pierre was a married man, but because Natäsha was conscious of the existence between him and herself of a powerful moral barrier, such as she had felt the absence of in case of Kurâgin, it never occurred to her that out of her relations to Pierre could ever come any love on her and, still less, on his part, or even that kind of tender, conscious, poetic friendship between man and woman, of which she knew several examples.

At the end of St. Peter’s fast, Agraféna Ivanovna Byé-lov, an Otradnoe neighbour of the Rostdvs, arrived in Moscow in order to make a pilgrimage to the Moscow saints. She proposed that Natäsha prepare herself for the holy sacrament, and Natäsha fell in with the idea joyfully. In spite of the doctor’s express prohibition of her going out in the morning, Natäsha insisted that she would attend the divine services, and that, too, not in the fashion in which this was generally done by the Rostovs, when three masses were celebrated at their house, but in the way in which Agraféna Ivanovna prepared herself for the sacrament, that is, by not omitting a single vesper, mass, and matin for the period of one week.

The countess was glad to see this devotion on the part of Natäsha ; in her heart, after the unsuccessful cure by the physicians, she hoped that prayers would help Natäsha more than medicine, and so, though she was afraid, and concealed the matter from the doctor, she consented to Natasha’s ■wish, and entrusted her to Madame Byélov’s care. Agraféna Ivänovna came at three o’clock in the night to wake Natasha up, but she generally found her already awake. She was afraid she might miss the matin. Hurriedly washing herself and in all humility putting on her worst garment and oldest mantilla, and shuddering from the freshness of the air, Natasha went out into the deserted streets, which were brightly illuminated by the dawn.

Following Agraféna Ivanovna’s advice, Natasha did not prepare herself in her own parish church, but in another church, in which, so pious Agraféna Ivanovna said, there was a priest of a very austere and exalted life. In the church there were never more than a few persons. Natasha and Madame Byélov took up their usual places in front of an image of the Holy Virgin, which was attached to the back wall of the left choir. Natäsha was overcome by a new feeling of humility before something great and intangible, whenever, at this unusual hour of the morning, she looked at the swarthy face of the Holy Virgin, which was lighted up by the candles in front of it, and by the morning light as it fell through the window, and listened to the sounds of the service, which she tried to understand and follow. If she understood them, her personal feelings with their peculiar shades were added to her prayer ; if she did not understand them, it gave her even more pleasure to think that the desire to comprehend everything was pride, that it was impossible to comprehend everything, and that it was necessary only to believe and to abandon herself to God, who in these moments, so she felt, was governing her soul. She made the sign of the cross, bowed low, and whenever she did not understand, she, horrified at her own baseness, only begged God to forgive her everything, everything, and to show her His mercy. The prayers to which she abandoned herself most were prayers of repentance. As she returned home at an early hour of the day, when she came across only masons going to work, and janitors sweeping the street, and when all at home were still asleep, Natäsha experienced a novel feeling that it was possible for her to mend her vices, and that a new, pure life and happiness were possible for her.

For the period of a whole week, during which she led this life, this feeling kept growing with every day. The happiness of communing, or communicating, as Agraféna Ivänovna said, playing on the word, appeared so great to her that she thought that she should not live as long as that blissful Sunday.

The happy day finally arrived, and when Natasha, on that memorable Sunday, returned from communion, dressed in a white muslin dress, she for the first time after many months felt herself calm and untroubled about the life which awaited her.

The doctor, who came to see her on that day, examined her and ordered that the last powders, which he had prescribed two weeks before, be continued.

« By all means give them to her in the morning and evening,” he said, apparently good-naturedly satisfied with his success. ” Only, please, be accurate. Don’t worry, countess,” the doctor said, jestingly, with agility catching the gold coin in the palm of his hand, ” she will soon sing and make merry again. The last medicine has done her a great deal of good. She looks much fresher.”

The countess looked at her nails and spit out, and returned to the drawingroom with a happy face.

XVIII.

In the beginning of July more and more disquieting rumours about the course of the war began to spread in Moscow ; there was talk about the emperor’s appeal to the nation, and about his return to Moscow from the army. As up to the 11th of July the manifesto and appeal had not been received, exaggerated rumours were being circulated about them and about the condition of Russia. It was said that the emperor was coming because the army was in danger, that Smolensk had been surrendered, that Napoleon had a million soldiers, and that only a miracle could save Russia.

On July 11th, which was a Saturday, the manifesto was received, but was not yet printed ; Pierre, who was at the house of the Rostdvs, promised to come to dinner on the following day and bring with him the manifesto and the appeal, which he would get from Count Rostopchfn.

On that Sunday the Rostdvs, as usual, went to mass in the house church of the Razumdvski mansion. It was a hot July day. At ten o’clock, as the Rostovs left the carriage in front of the church, there was already, in the hot air, in the shouts of the peddlers, in the bright-coloured summer dresses of the crowd, in the dusty leaves of the trees in the boulevard, in the sounds of the music and the white pantaloons of a battalion passing by for sentinel duty, in the rumble of the pavement, and in the lurid splendour of the hot sun, that languor, that satisfaction and dissatisfaction with the present, which is

generally sharply felt on a bright, hot day in the city. In the Razumovski church were gathered all the notabilities of Moscow, all the acquaintances of the Rostovs (in that year many wealthy families remained in the city, as though waiting for something to happen). Passing with her mother behind a liveried lackey, who was pushing aside the crowd, Natdsha heard the voice of a young man, who was saying in too loud a whisper :

” That is Countess Rostov, the one I told you about.”

“ How thin she has grown ! But she is still pretty ! “

She heard, or, at least, she thought she heard, mentioned the names of Kurägin and of Bolkonski. However, she always thought so. It always seemed to her that every one who looked at her thought of nothing but what had happened to her. Suffering as she did, and with trepidation, as always when in a crowd, Natasha walked in her lilac silk dress, with black laces, as only women can walk, the more composed and majestic the more pain and shame there was in her heart. She knew that she was pretty, and she was not mistaken in this, but this did not give her pleasure now, as it had done formerly. On the contrary, it tormented her more than anything else had done of late, especially on that bright, warm summer day in the city. ” Another Sunday, another week,” she said to herself, recalling that she had been there the Sunday before, ” and still that same life without life, and the same conditions, under which it was so easy to live before. I am pretty, and young, and I know that I am now good ; I used to be bad, but now I am good, I know it,” she thought, ” and yet my best years pass away uselessly.” She stood near her mother, and nodded to acquaintances near by. From habit she surveyed the toilets of the ladies, censured the carriage of a lady who was standing a short distance away, and her improper manner of making the sign of the cross over a short space on her breast ; then she thought with vexation that other people passed judgment on her, and that she herself was censuring others, and, as she heard the sounds of the divine service, she suddenly was frightened at her own baseness, and felt that her previous purity had again been lost.

A neat, distinguished-looking old man officiated with that meek solemnity which acts so majestically and so soothingly on the souls of suppliants. The holy gates were closed, a curtain was slowly drawn across, and a mysterious, soft voice said something from behind it. Tears, which she could not explain to herself, rose in Natdsha’s throat, and she was agitated by a joyous, languorous feeling.

” Teach me what to do, what to make of my life, how to mend myself for ever, for ever ! ” she thought.

The deacon walked out on the ambo. Spreading his thumb wide, he drew his long hair out from underneath his surplice and, placing the cross on his breast, began to pray in a loud and solemn manner :

” Let us all pray to the Lord! “

” All together, without distinction of condition, without hatred, but united in brotherly love, — let us pray ! ” thought Natdsha.

” For the world above and for the salvation of our souls ! “

” For the world of the angels and of the souls of all disembodied beings, who live above us,” Natdsha prayed.

As they were praying for the army, she thought of her brother and of Denisov. As they prayed for those who were voyaging and journeying on land, she recalled Prince Andréy, and prayed for him, and she prayed that God might forgive her the evil which she had done him. As they prayed for those who love us, she prayed for her home folk, for her father, for her mother, for Sdnya, now for the first time realizing her guilt, and for the first time appreciating all the strength of her love for them. As they prayed for those who hate us, she tried to think of her enemies and of those who hated her, that she might pray for them. She counted among her enemies the creditors and all those who had any business with her father, and every time she thought of those who hate us, she thought of Anatdl, who had done her such a wrong, and, though he was not really one who hated, it gave her pleasure to pray for him as for an enemy. Only at prayer did she feel strong enough clearly and calmly to think of Prince Andrdy and of Anatol, as of men, in relation to whom her feelings were annihilated when compared with her sentiment of awe and terror before God. As they prayed for the imperial family and for the Synod, she made unusually low obeisances and devout signs of the cross, saying to herself that, although she did not understand, she could not doubt, and so loved the governing Synod, and prayed for it.

The responsory being over, the deacon crossed the stole over his breast and said :

“We will offer ourselves and our lives to Christ our God ! “

” We will offer ourselves to God,” Natdsha repeated in her soul. “ 0 God, I abandon myself to Thy will ! ” she thought. ” I want nothing, I wish for nothing. Instruct me what to do, how to use Thy will ! And take me, oh, take me ! ” Natdsha said, with contrition in her heart, without making the sign of the cross, dropping her slender arms, and waiting, as it were, for an invisible power to take her and deliver her from herself, her compassions, wishes, reproaches, and vices.

The countess several times during the service looked at the devout face of her daughter, with her sparkling eyes, and prayed to God that He might assist her.

Unexpectedly, in the middle of the service out of the regular order, which Natasha knew well, the sexton brought out a footstool, the same on which the prayers of genuflection were read on Whitsunday, and placed it in front of the holy gates. The priest came out in his lilac velvet skull-cap, adjusted his hair, and with an effort knelt down. All did the same and looked at each other in perplexity. It was a prayer which had just been received from the Synod, a prayer about the salvation of Russia from the hostile invasion :

” 0 Lord God of hosts, God of our salvation ! ” the priest began, in that clear, unpretentious, meek voice, in which only the readers of the Church-Slavic liturgy know how to read, and which has such a powerful influence on a Russian heart.

” 0 Lord God of hosts, God of our salvation ! Look down to-day upon Thine humble people and graciously hear us, and spare us, and have mercy upon us. Behold, a foe, who disturbeth Thine earth and wisheth to lay waste Thine universe, hath arisen against us. Behold, men of lawlessness have assembled to destroy Thy heritage, to raze Thy honoured Jerusalem, Thy beloved Russia ; to defile Thy temples, dig up Thine altars, and vilify Thy Holiness. How long, 0 Lord, how long, shall the sinners glory ? How long shall the transgressor have the power ?

“ 0 Lord ! give ear to our prayers to Thee : fortify with Thy strength the most pious and most autocratic great Tsar, our Emperor Alexander Pävlovich. Remember his truth and his meekness, and repay him according to his mercy with which he preserveth us, Thy beloved Israel. Bless his counsels, his ways, and his acts. Fortify his kingdom with Thine almighty right hand, and give him victory over his enemy, even as Thou gavest it to Moses over Amalek, to Gideon over Midian, and to David over Goliath. Preserve his warriors, place the brass bow in the hands of those arming in Thy name, and gird them with strength for the war. Take up the weapon and the shield, and arise to our aid, that those who plot evil against us may be put to shame and disgrace, that they may be before the face of Thy faithful soldiery like the dust before the face of the wind, and that Thy strong angel may insult them and drive them before him ; that the nets may come of which they know not, and their ambush which they have concealed may hold them ; that they may fall before the feet of Thy slaves and be trampled upon by our warriors. 0 Lord ! It is not impossible for Thee to save in great and in small things ; Thou art God, let none prevail against Thee !

” God of our fathers ! Remember Thy beneficence and mercy which are from eternity ; turn us not away from before Thy face, nor abhor us for our unworthiness, but, on account of Thy great mercy and the multitude of Thy kindnesses, overlook our transgressions and sins. Build up a pure heart within us, and renovate the righteous spirit within us; strengthen us all with faith in Thee; fortify us with hope, animate us with sincere love for one another, arm us with concord for the righteous defence of the heritage which Thou hast given to us and to our fathers, lest the rod of the unrighteous fall on the lot of the sanctified.

« O Lord our God, in whom we believe and in whom we trust, do not shame us in our hope of Thy mercy, and give us a good token that those who hate us may see us and our Orthodox faith, and be put to shame, and perish ; and let all the lands see that Thy name is the Lord, and we are Thy people. Show us, 0 Lord, Thy mercy to-day, and give us Thy salvation ; make the hearts of Thy slaves rejoice on account of Thy mercy ; strike down our enemies, and quickly crush them under the feet of Thy faithful ones. For Thou art the protection, the help, and the victory of those who trust in Thee, and we extol Thee, the Father and the Son and the Holy Ghost, now and for evermore. Amen.”

In that condition of mental unreserve, in which Natasha now was, the prayer affected her powerfully. She listened to every word about the victory of Moses over Amalek, and of Gideon over Midian, and of David over Goliath, and about the destruction of “ Thy Jerusalem,” and prayed to God with that tenderness and contrition with which her heart was filled ; but she did not exactly comprehend what it was she asked God for in this prayer. She took part with her whole heart in the prayer for the right spirit, the fortifying of the heart with faith and hope, and the animating them with love. But she could not pray for the crushing of the enemies under foot, since a few minutes before she had wished to have as many as possible of them, in order to pray for them. At the same time she could not doubt the correctness of the prayer read with the genuflexion. She experienced in her soul an awesome and timorous fear before the punishment meted out to people for their sins, and for her own sins in particular, and prayed to God to forgive them all and her, too, and to give to them all and to her calm and happiness in life. And she thought that God heard her prayer.

XIX.

After the night when Pierre, leaving the Rostdvs and recalling Natasha’s grateful glance, looked at the comet, which was standing in the sky, and felt that something new had been revealed to him, the question which had constantly been tormenting him about the vanity and senselessness of everything terrestrial no longer presented itself to him. The terrible question, why ? wherefore ? which formerly arose in the middle of every occupation of his, now gave way not to another question, and not to an answer to the older question, but to her image. Whether he heard petty conversations or himself carried them on, whether he read or heard of the baseness and senselessness of men, he no longer became terrified ; he did not ask himself why people worried so, since everything was so short-lived and so uncertain, but he recalled her in the shape in which he had seen her the last time, and all his doubts disappeared, not because she answered all the questions that presented themselves to him, but because her image immediately transferred him to another, brighter sphere of mental activities where there could be no righteous men and no sinners, to the sphere of beauty and of love, for which it was worth while to live. No matter what abomination of life presented itself to him, he said to himself :

” Let N–-N–-rob the country and the Tsar, and

let the country and the Tsar shower honours upon him, so long as she smiled at me yesterday and asked me to come, and I love her, and no one will ever discover this ! ” And his heart was calm and clear.

Pierre continued to frequent society as before, and to eat as much, and to lead the same indolent life of diversions, because, outside the hours which he passed at the house of the Rostdvs, the rest of his time had to be passed in some way, and the habits and acquaintances which he had acquired in Moscow drew him invincibly toward that life which had taken possession of him. But of late, as the rumours from the theatre of war became ever more alarming and Natdsha’s health began to improve, and she no longer roused in him the former feeling of solicitous pity, an inexplicable unrest began to take possession of him more and more powerfully. He felt that the condition in which he was could not last much longer, and that a catastrophe was imminent which would change his whole life, and he impatiently looked everywhere for the symptoms of that approaching catastrophe.

One of his brother Masons had revealed to Pierre the following prophecy in regard to Napoleon, as deduced from the Apocalypse of St. John.

In the Apocalypse, chapter xiii., verse 18, it is said: “ Here is wisdom. Let him that hath understanding count the number of the beast : for it is the number of a man ; and his number is six hundred threescore and six.”

And in the same chapter, verse 5 : ” And there was given unto him a mouth speaking great things and blasphemies ; and power was given unto him to continue forty and two months.”

The French letters, written out with the same numerical values as in Hebrew, in which the first ten letters represent the units, and the rest the tens, will have the following significance -.

a b c

d 6

f

1

H

3

4

5

6

7

h

i

k

1

m

n

0

1

9

10

20

30

40

50

p

<1

r

s

t

u

V

GO

70

80

90

100

no

120

w

X

y

z

130

140

150

IGO

By writing out the value of the letters in ” EEmpereur Napoléon” we get the sum of these numbers equal to 666, and consequently Napoleon was the beast predicted in the Apocalypse. Again, writing out the numerical value, according to this alphabet, of ” quarante-deux,” that is, of the limit set to the beast in speaking great and blasphemous things, the sum of these numbers was again equal to 666, from which it followed that the limit of Napoleon’s power was to be in the year 1812, when the French emperor would be forty-two years old. This prediction startled Pierre very much, and he frequently asked himself what would set bounds to the power of the beast, that is, of Napoleon, and he tried to find an answer to this question which interested him so much, by applying the same calculations to certain words. Ifierre wrote the answer to this question : ” L’Empereur Alexandre,” and “la nation Russe.” The sum of the figures turned out to be either larger or smaller than 666. Once, while working on these calculations, he wrote down his name ” Comte Pierre Bcsouhojfbut the sum did not come out right. He changed the orthography, wrote r instead of s, added ” de” and the article “le ” but still did not get the right answer. Then it occurred to him that if his name was to contain an answer to the question, it certainly must give also his nationality. He wrote ” Le Russe Besuhof,” and, counting up the figures, received the sum 671. There was only five too much ; five stood for e, the same e that was omitted in “L’Empereur.” By throwing off, though irregularly, the c, Pierre got the desired answer, “ L’Russe Besuhof,” which was equal to 666. This discovery agitated him. In what way he was connected with the great event which was foretold in the Apocalypse, he did not know, but he did not for a moment doubt this connection. His love for Countess Rostdv, the antichrist, Napoleon’s invasion, the comet, 666, L’Empereur Napoleon, and L’Russe Besuhof, — all that was to mature, burst forth, and take him out of that enchanted, insignificant world of Moscow habits, which, he felt, held him captive, and to lead him on to a great deed and to great happiness.

On the eve of the Sunday on which that prayer was uttered, Pierre had promised the Rostovs that he would bring them from Count Rostopchm, with whom he was well acquainted, both the appeal to Russia and the last news from the army. On Sunday morning Pierre called on Count Rostopchm, and found there a courier who had just arrived from the army. The courier was one of the Moscow dancers at balls, whom he knew well.

” Can’t you for the Lord’s sake do me a favour ? ” said the courier. ” I have a box full of letters addressed to various parents.”

Among these letters there was one from Nikoldy Rostov to his father. Pierre took the letter with him. Count Rostopchm, too, gave him the emperor’s appeal to Moscow, which had just been printed, the last orders of the day for the army, and his own latest broadside. Looking over the orders of the day, Pierre found in one of them, among the news of the wounded, the killed, and the rewarded, the name of Nikolay Rostov, who was given the cross of St. George of the fourth degree for bravery shown in the Ostrdvna engagement, and in the same order, the appointment of Prince Andrdy Bolkdnski as commander of a regiment of chasseurs. Though he did not wish to remind the R-stdvs of Bolkonski, he could not restrain his desire to give them pleasure by letting them know of their son’s promotion, and so he kept the appeal, the broadside, and several orders, in order to take them in person to the Rostdvs at dinner, and sent to their house one printed order and the letter.

His conversation with Count Rostopchin, the count’s tone of worry and haste, his meeting with the courier who carelessly told how badly matters stood in the army, the rumours of the discovery of spies in Moscow, and of a paper circulated in the city, in which it was said that Napoleon promised to be in both capitals by fall, the talk about the arrival of the emperor on the next day, — all this incited in Pierre, with a new force, that feeling of agitation and expectancy which had not left him since the appearance of the comet, and especially since the beginning of the war.

It had long ago occurred to Pierre that he ought to enter military service, and he would have carried out his intention if he had not been prevented, in the first place, by his affiliations with the Masonic society, to which he was bound by an oath, and which preached eternal peace and the abolition of war, and, in the second place, if he had not felt ashamed to take such a step, as he looked at the large number of the Muscovites who had donned the military uniform and preached patriotism. But the chief reason why he did not carry out his intention of going into the army lay in the indistinct idea that he was “Z’Russe Bcsuhof,” who had the value of the beast’s number of 666, that his part in the great work, of laying bounds to the power of the beast who spoke great and blasphemous tilings, had been predestined from eternity, and that, therefore, he should not undertake anything, but ought to wait for what was to happen.

XX.

Several acquaintances were dining with the Rostdvs, as was always the case on Sundays.

Pierre arrived early in order to find them alone. Pierre had become so stout during this year that he would have been monstrous, if he had not been of a tall stature, large-limbed, and strong, so as to appear to bear his obesity well. He puffed and mumbled something to himself as he ascended the staircase. The coachman did not ask him whether he would wait. He knew that when the count was with the Rostdvs, be would stay there until midnight. The lackeys cheerfully rushed forward to take off his overcoat, and to relieve him of his cane and hat. Following his club custom, Pierre always left his cane and hat in the antechamber.

The first person he saw at the house of the Rostovs was Natdsha. Even before he saw her he had heard her voice, as he took off his overcoat in the antechamber. She was singing a solfeggio in the parlour. He knew that she had not sung since her illness, and so the sound of her voice surprised and pleased him. He softly opened the door and saw Natdsha in her lilac dress, in which she had been to mass, walking up and down in the room, and singing. She was walking backwards toward him, as he opened the door, but when she abruptly turned around and noticed his fat, startled face, she blushed and rapidly went up to him.

” I want to try to sing again,” she said. “ Anyway, it is an occupation,” she added, as though to excuse herself.

” That is very nice.”

“ How glad lam that you have come ! I am so happy to-day ! ” she said, with that old animation of hers, which Pierre had not seen for a long time. ” You know Nicolas has received the cross of St. George. I am so proud of him.”

” I know it. I sent you the order of the day. Well, I will not bother you,” he added, wishing to pass into the drawingroom.

Natasha stopped him.

” Count, is it wrong for me to sing ? ” she said, blushing, but without lowering her eyes, and looking interrogatively at Pierre.

” No. Why ? On the contrary — Why do you ask me?”

” I do not know myself,” Natdsha answered, rapidly, ” but I should not like to do anything which might displease you. I trust you in every tiling. You do not know how important you are to me, and how much you have done for me ! ” She spoke rapidly, and did not notice that Pierre blushed at these words of hers. “ I saw in the same order that he, Bolkénski” (she pronounced the name in a whisper), ” is in Russia and with the army. What do you think,” she hurried to say, evidently being afraid that her strength would fail her, ” will he ever forgive me ? Will he have no evil feeling against me ? What do you think about it ? What do you think ? “

“ I think — ” said Pierre. ” He has nothing to forgive — If I were in his place — ” By an association of ideas, Pierre was at once transferred in his imagination to the time when, consoling her, he had told her that if he were another man, the best man in the world and free, he would ask for her hand on his knees, and the same feeling of pity, tenderness, and love took possession of him and the same words were again on his lips. But she did not give him the chance to say them.

” Yes, you, you,” she said, enthusiastically pronouncing the word ” you,” ” you are another thing. I do not know a better and more magnanimous man than you, and there cannot be any. If it had not been for you then, and even now, I do not know what would have become of me, because — ” Tears rushed to her eyes ; she turned around, raised her music to her eyes, started singing, and began once more to walk up and down in the room.

Just then Pétya came running in from the drawingroom. Pétya was now a handsome, ruddy, fifteen-year-old boy, with thick, red lips, and resembled Natdsha. He was preparing himself for the university, but of late he and his friend Obolénski had secretly decided to join the hussars.

Pétya ran up to his namesake to speak with him about the matter. He asked him to find out whether he would be accepted as a hussar. Pierre kept walking in the drawingroom, without hearing what Pétya was telling him. Pétya pulled his sleeve, in order to arrest his attention.

” Well, how do matters stand with me, Pierre Kinllych ? Do tell me, for the Lord’s sake ! You are my only hope,” said Pétya.

” Oh, your case ! About the hussars ? I will tell you all about it. I will, to-day ! “

” Well, mon cher, well, did you get the manifesto ? ” asked the old count. ” The little countess went to mass to the Razumévski chapel, where she heard a new prayer. She says it was very nice.”

“I have it,” said Pierre. “The emperor will be here tomorrow — There is to be an extraordinary session of the nobility, and a levy of ten in the thousand. And let me congratulate you.”

” Yes, yes, thank God. Well, and what is the news from the army ? ”

“ Our army has again retreated. They say they are now at Smolensk,” replied Pierre.

” 0 Lord, 0 Lord ! ” said the count. “ Where is the manifesto ? “

” The appeal ? Oh, yes ! “

Pierre began to look in his pockets for the papers, but could not find them. He was still feeling in his pockets, when the countess entered, and he kissed her hand. He kept looking restlessly around, evidently waiting for Natasha, who was no longer singing, but had not yet come to the drawingroom.

” Ma parole, je ne sais plus où je l’ai fourré” he said.

” He is continually losing things,” said the countess.

Natdsha entered. Her face looked gentle and agitated, as she sat down, silently glancing at Pierre. The moment she came in, Pierre’s countenance, heretofore gloomy, brightened up, and he kept looking at her, all the time rummaging through his pockets for the papers.

“ Really, I will drive home — I forgot and left them there. Truly — “

” You will be too late for dinner.”

“ Oh, and the coachman has left.”

But Sonya, who had gone to the antechamber to look for the papers, found them in his hat, where he had carefully stuck them behind the lining. Pierre wanted to read.

” No, after dinner,” said the old count, who evidently foresaw great pleasure in that reading.

At dinner, where they drank the health of the new knight of St. George, Shinshin told the city news about the illness of an old Georgian princess, about Métivier having disappeared from Moscow, and about a German whom some people had brought to Rostopchin, saying that he was a champignon1 (Count Rostopchin himself told the story), and whom Count Rostopchin set at liberty, telling the people that he was not a champignon, but a common toadstool of a German.

x The Russian word for “ spy ” is shpion, which the common people mispronounced as “champignon.”

“ They catch them, they do,” said the count. ” I have been telling the countess to speak French as little as possible. This is not the time for it.”

” Have you heard ? ” said Shinshin. ” Prince Golitsyn has taken a Russian teacher, to learn Russian, — il com-mcncc à devenir dangereux de parler français dans les rues.”

“ Well, Count Pierre Kirillych, when the militia has to go, you, too, will have to mount a horse,” the old count said, turning to Pierre.

Pierre was taciturn and pensive during the whole dinner. At these words he glanced at the count, as though he did not understand what he had said.

“ Yes, yes, to the war,” he said, ” no ! What kind of a soldier should I make ? But how strange, how very strange it all is ! I do not understand it myself. Really, I am so far removed from military tastes ; still, nowadays nobody can be responsible for liimself.”

After dinner the count calmly seated himself in an armchair, and with a serious countenance asked Sdnya, who had the reputation of being a good reader, to read :

” To Moscow our first-crowned capital :

“ The enemy has with great forces crossed the boundaries of Russia. He is marching to destroy our beloved country,” Sdnya read distinctly, in her thin voice. The count, closing his eyes, listened, now and then heaving an abrupt sigh.

Natdsha sat up erect, casting inquisitive and direct glances now at her father, and now at Pierre. Pierre was conscious of her look, and tried not to turn back. The countess disapprovingly and angrily shook her head at every solemn utterance of the manifesto. In all these words she saw only a confirmation of her belief that the perils to winch her son was subjected were far from being over. Shinshin, puckering his mouth into a sarcastic smile, was evidently preparing himself to make fun of anything that might present itself for ridicule, — of Sdnya’s reading, of the utterances of the count, and even of the appeal, if no better excuse offered itself.

Having read about the dangers that threatened Russia, and of the hopes which the emperor placed on Moscow, and especially on the famous nobility, Sdnya, with a quivering voice, which was mainly due to the attention with which she was listened to, read the following words :

“ We will not fail to appear ourselves amidst our people in tliis capital and in other places of our realm, for the purpose of consultation and for the guidance of all our forces, both those that now are barring the progress of the enemy, and those which may be put in the field for the purpose of defeating him, wherever he may appear, — that the ruin which he thinks of bringing down upon us may come upon his head, and that Europe, freed from slavery, may glorify the name of Russia ! “

” That is so ! ” exclaimed the count, opening his moist eyes, and, several times interrupting his snivelling, as though a bottle of strong salts were held to his nose, he said : ” Let the emperor say the word, and we will all sacrifice all we have, without saying anything.”

Shinshm had not yet had a chance to utter his jest in regard to the count’s patriotism, which he had in store, when Natasha jumped up from her seat and ran to her father.

“ How lovely papa is ! ” she exclaimed, kissing him. She again looked at Pierre with that unconscious coquetry which had returned to her with her animation.

” What a patriotic woman ! ” said Shinshin.

“ Not at all a patriot, but simply — ” Natdsha replied, as though offended. ” Everything is funny to you, but it is not at all a joke — “

“A joke!” repeated the count. “Let him say one word, and we will all go— We are no Germans — “

« And did you notice,” said Pierre, “ that it says, ‘ for consultation ‘ ? ”

” Well, I do not care what it is for — “

Just then Petya, to whom nobody had paid any attention, walked over to his father and said to him, in a faltering, now coarse, now thin voice, while his face was all flushed :

” Now, papa, I must say it right out, and, mamma, you will have to listen to it, — I will tell you right out that I want you to let me go into the army, because I cannot — that is all — “

The countess raised her eyes toward the ceiling in terror, wrung her hands, and angrily turned to her husband :

” He has had his say ! ” she said.

But the count at once regained his composure.

” Well, well,” he said. ” What a soldier ! Stop your nonsense ! You have to study yet ! “

” It is not nonsense, papa ! Fédya Obolenski is younger than I, and he, too, is going ; the worst of it is I cannot study now, when — ” Pétya stopped, blushed so that he began to perspire, but still continued, ” when the country is in danger.”

« Stop, stop your nonsense ! “

« But you said yourself that we would sacrifice everything.”

« Pétya, I tell you, keep quiet ! ” the count shouted, looking at his wife, who was pale and cast an arrested glance at her son.

« But I tell you — Pierre Kirillych himself will tell you — ”

<< I tell you it is nonsense ! The milk has not yet dried on your lips, and you want to go into the army ! I tell you, stop it ! ” and the count took up the papers, evidently for the purpose of reading them again in his cabinet before taking a rest, and left the room.

” Pierre Kirillych, come, let us have a smoke — “

Pierre was agitated and undecided. Natasha’s uncommonly bright and animated eyes, which kept turning toward him with an expression of more than kindness, had brought him into this state.

” No, 1 think I will drive home — “

” Home ? Why, you intended to stay all evening — You do not come very often, anyway. And this girl of mine,” the count said, good-naturedly, pointing to Natdsha, ” is happy only when you are around — ”

” I forgot — I must go home by all means — Business — ” Pierre said, hurriedly.

” Good-bye, then,” said the count, as he left the room.

” Why do you go away ? Why are you so disturbed ? Why ? ” Natasha asked Pierre, looking provokingly at him.

” Because I love you ! ” he wanted to say ; but he did not say it, and only blushed till the tears came, and lowered his eyes.

” Because it is better for me not to come too often — Because — no, simply I am busy — “

“ Why ? Do tell me,” Natasha began, with determination, and then suddenly stopped.

They looked at each other in fright and embarrassment. He tried to smile, but could not : his smile expressed suffering, and he silently kissed her hand, and went out.

Pierre made up his mind never again to call on the Rostovs.

XXL

Having received a definite refusal, Petya went to his room, where he locked himself up and wept bitterly. They all acted as though they did not notice anything when he came to tea with tearful eyes, and was sullen and gloomy.

On the following day the emperor arrived. Several of the servants of the Rostévs begged to be permitted to go and see the Tsar. On that morning Pétya was very long in dressing, combing, and fixing his collar in the fashion of a grown-up person. He frowned in front of the mirror, made all kinds of gestures, shrugged his shoulders, and finally put on his cap, and, without saying a word to any one, left by the back porch, trying to remain unnoticed. He had decided to go straight to the place where the emperor was and to tell some gentleman of the chamber (Pétya thought that the emperor was always surrounded by gentlemen of the chamber) that he, Count Rostov, in spite of his youth, wished to serve his country, that youth could not be an impediment to loyalty, and that he was ready— As he was preparing to go, he thought up a mass of beautiful words, which he was going to tell the gentleman of the chamber.

Pétya counted on the success of his being presented to the emperor because he was still a child (Pétya was sure they would all wonder at his extreme youth), and yet he endeavoured by the arrangement of his collar, by his coiffure, and by his slow and measured walk, to represent an older man. But the farther he walked, the more his attention was diverted by the masses of people surging near the Kremlin, the more he forgot to preserve the reserve and dignity which are characteristic of older men. When he reached the Kremlin, he began to exert himself not to be crushed, and so he put his arms out akimbo, in a threatening attitude. But at the Trinity Gate, people, who evidently did not know with what patriotic purpose he was going to the Kremlin, so pressed him against the wall that he had to submit and stop, while carriages, reverberating under the vaults of the gates, passed through. Near Pétya stood an old woman and a lackey, two merchants, and an ex-soldier. After having remained a few minutes at the gate, Pétya, without waiting for all carriages to pass, wanted to move on, and began to work his elbows energetically ; but the woman who was standing opposite 1dm, and against whom he first directed his elbows, angrily called out to him :

” Don’t push that way, young man ! Don’t you see that all are standing still ? What is the sense in pushing ? “

“Anybody can push,” said the lackey, and, beginning himself to use his elbows freely, he jammed Pétya into an ill-smelling corner of the gate.

Pétya wiped off with Ids hands the perspiration wldch covered his whole face, and fixed his wilted collar, which he had so carefully arranged at home, to make it appear like a grown-up man’s collar.

Pétya felt that he did not look presentable, and was afraid that, if he appeared before the gentlemen of the chamber, he would not be admitted to the presence of the emperor ; but there was no chance of adjusting himself or of getting out from the crowd. One of the generals who passed by was an acquaintance of the Rostévs. Pétya wanted to invoke his aid, but thought that it would be unmanly. When all the carriages had passed, the throng rushed forward and carried Pétya along through the square, which was all filled with people. Not only the square itself, but even the declivities and roofs were crowded with people. As soon as Pétya found himself in the square, he heard distinctly the sounds of the bells and of the joyous shouts of the people which filled the Kremlin.

For awhile Pétya could stand comfortably in the square, but suddenly all the heads were bared, and everybody rushed forward. Pétya was so jammed in that he could not breathe, and every one cried out, “ Hurrah, hurrah, hurrah ! ” Pétya got up on tiptoe, pushed his neighbours, and pinched them, but could see nothing but people all around him.

On all the faces there was an expression of transport. A merchant woman, who was standing near Pétya, was sobbing, and her tears coursed down her cheeks.

“ Father, angel, dear one ! ” she kept saying, while wiping off her tears with her fingers.

” Hurrah ! ” they shouted on all sides.

For about a minute the crowd stood in one spot, and then it again rushed forward.

Pétya, forgetting himself, set his teeth, and, rolling his eyes like a beast of prey, darted ahead, making his way with his elbows, and shouting, “Hurrah!” as though he were ready to kill himself and everybody else at that moment; but on all sides just such beastly faces were darting ahead, with the same shouts of ” Hurrah !”

“ So this is what the emperor is ! ” thought Pétya. “No, I cannot hand him a petition myself, — it would be too bold ! ” And yet, he made the same desperate efforts to get to the front. Between the backs of those who were in front of him he could make out an empty space down which was laid a red cloth carpet ; but just then the crowd swayed back (the policemen in front were pushing back those who had advanced too close to the procession ; the emperor was on his way from the palace to the church of the Assumption), and Pétya suddenly got such a blow in his ribs, and was so jammed in, that his eyes grew dim and he lost consciousness. When he came to, a clerical .person, in a faded blue cassock, who had a tuft of grayish hair behind, apparently a sexton, supported him with one hand under the pit of his arm, and with the other protected him against the surging crowd.

” You have crushed a young gentleman ! ” said the sexton. ” Can’t you look out ? Easy, — he is crushed, I say ! “

The emperor passed on to the cathedral of the Assumption. The crowd again quieted down, and the sexton took the pale and scarcely breathing Pétya out to the tsar-cannon. A few persons expressed their sympathy for Pétya, and suddenly the whole crowd turned to him, and now there was a crush about his person. Those who stood nearest attended to him by unbuttoning his coat, placed him on an elevation of the gun, and rebuked those who might be responsible for the crushing of Pétya.

” It would not take much to kill a man that way. Shame! Murder! Just see, the dear fellow is just as white as a sheet,” several voices were heard saying.

Pétya soon recovered consciousness, the colour returned to his face, the pain passed away, and to pay for his passing discomfort he had gained a place on the gun, from which he hoped to see the emperor, who was to return. Pétya no longer thought of handing in his petition. He would be quite happy if he only had a chance to see him !

During the double divine service in the cathedral of the Assumption, — on the occasion of the emperor’s arrival and as a thanksgiving prayer for the peace concluded with the Turks, — the crowd began to scatter a little; there appeared the shouting hucksters of kvas, cakes, and poppy, of which Pétya was especially fond, and ordinary conversations were heard. A merchant woman showed her torn shawl, informing her neighbour how expensive it had been ; another said that nowadays all silk materials were excessively dear. The sexton, Pétya’s saviour, was talking to an official, telling him who was officiating on that day with his Eminence. The sexton several times repeated the words “plenary ministration,” which Pétya did not understand. Two young burghers were jesting with manorial servant girls who were munching nuts. All these conversations, especially the jokes with the manorial girls, which always had been so attractive to Pétya in his childhood, now failed to interest him ; he was sitting on his elevation on the cannon, agitated at the thought of the emperor and of his love for him. The coincidence of the feeling of pain and terror, when he had been crushed, with the sensation of transport, only increased his consciousness of the importance of this moment.

Suddenly reports of cannon were heard on the bank of the river (they were celebrating the conclusion of the peace with the Turks), and the crowd darted toward the river, to see them fire off the guns. Pétya, too, wanted to run there, but the sexton, having taken the young gentleman under his care, did not let him. The reports could still be heard, when out of the cathedral of the Assumption came running officers, generals, and gentlemen of the chamber ; then others came out less hurriedly ; hats were again taken off, and those who had run to see the cannon came running back. Finally four more men in uniforms and sashes came out of the door of the cathedral. “ Hurrah, hurrah ! ” the crowd shouted again.

“ Which is it ? Which ? ” Pétya kept asking, in a tearful voice, but nobody made any reply to him ; they were all too much carried away, and Pétya, selecting one of the four persons, whom he could not well make out through the tears of joy that stood in his eyes, concentrated all his enthusiasm on him, though it was not the emperor, shouted “Hurrah!” in a preternatural voice, and decided that, cost what it might, he would become a soldier on the morrow*

The crowd rau after the emperor, accompanied him as far as the palace, and began to disperse. It was late, and Pétya had had nothing to eat, and his perspiration was coursing down in streams ; but he did not go home. He remained with the diminished, but still considerable, throng in front of the palace, during the emperor’s dinner, looking in at the windows, waiting for something, and envying both the dignitaries who drove up to the porch, to be present at the dinner, and the lackeys of the chamber, who were serving at the table and who flashed by the windows.

At dinner Valuev, having looked out of a window, said to the emperor :

“ The people still hope to see your Majesty.”

The dinner was over ; the emperor, finishing a biscuit, rose and went out on the balcony. The masses, with Pétya among them, darted toward the balcony. “ Angel ! Dear one! Hurrah! Father!” cried the people and Pétya, and again the women and a few of the weaker men, among them Pétya, wept with joy. A fairly large piece of the biscuit, which the emperor was holding in his hand, broke off and fell on the parapet of the balcony, and from the parapet on the ground. A coachman, in a sleeveless coat, who was standing near by, made for the piece of biscuit and caught it. Several men of the throng rushed up to the coachman. Noticing this, the emperor ordered a plateful of biscuits, which he began to throw down from the balcony. Pétya’s eyes were bloodshot; the danger of being crushed only helped to excite him, and he darted for a biscuit. He did not know why he did it, but he felt that he had to receive a biscuit from the hand of the emperor, and that he must not be vanquished. He rushed forward and knocked down an old woman, who was trying to catch a biscuit. The old woman did not consider herself vanquished, even though she was lying prostrate on the ground, for she kept putting out her hands to catch a biscuit, though in vain. Pétya knocked her hand aside with his knee, caught a biscuit, and, as though fearing lest he should be too late, again shouted, ” Hurrah !” in a hoarse voice.

The emperor went away, and after that the greater part of the people began to disperse.

« I said that we ought to wait, and you see it turned out as I said,” several people were heard saying on all sides.

Although Pétya was very happy, he felt sad as he walked home, seeing that all the enjoyment of that day was past. From the Kremlin Pétya went not home, but to his friend Obolénski, who was fifteen years old, and who also wanted to enter the army. Upon returning home, he declared with firmness and determination that if they did not let him, he would run away. On the following day, Count Ilyà Andréevich, though not entirely surrendering, drove out to see whether he could not get some safe place for Pétya.

XXII.

Three days after this event, in the morning of July 15th, an endless number of carriages stood in front of the Slobddski palace.

The halls were full. In the first were the gentry in uniforms ; in the second, the merchants with decorations, with their long beards, and wearing blue caftans. In the hall of the meeting of the gentry there was a din and motion. At a large table, beneath the portrait of the emperor, the more distinguished notables were sitting on chairs with high backs, but the majority of the gentry walked up and down in the hall.

All the men of the gentry, those whom Pierre had been seeing every day, either in the club, or in their houses, wore their uniforms, of the days of Catherine, or Paul, or the new ones of the reign of Alexander, or the usual ones of the nobility, and this general character of the uniforms lent a strange and fantastic aspect to the old and young, to strangers and to acquaintances. Most striking were the blear-eyed, toothless, bald-headed, sallow, and obese, or wrinkled, lean old men. They generally remained sitting and kept quiet; if they walked about and talked, they sought out the company of some one younger than themselves. Just as on the countenances of the crowd which Pétya had seen in the square, so on these countenances there was a striking feature of contrasts : of the general expectancy of something solemn, and of the habitual yesterday’s expectancy of a boston party, of chef Petrushka, of the health of Zinaida Dmitrievna, etc.

Pierre, who since early morning had been laced in an awkward, tightly fitting uniform of the gentry, was also in the halls. He was agitated: the unusual gathering not only of the gentry, but also of the merchant class, — les états généraux, — called forth in him a whole series of his long neglected ideas about the Contrat social and the French Revolution, which had made a deep impress on his soul. The words which he especially noticed in the appeal, that the emperor was coming to the capital for ” consultation ” with his people, confirmed him in his view. Assuming that something important in this direction was now approaching, something for which he had been waiting so long, he kept walking about, and looking and listening to the conversations, but he nowhere found an expression of the ideas which interested him.

The emperor’s manifesto was read, producing great enthusiasm, and then all, talking, began to disperse. In addition to the usual interests, Pierre heard them discuss where the marshals were to stand during the appearance of the emperor when a ball was to be given to the Tsar, whether they were to arrange themselves by counties, or by Governments, etc. ; but the moment the question of the war was up, for which in reality the nobility had been collected, the talk became undecided and undetermined. All preferred to listen rather than talk themselves.

One man of middle age, a manly, handsome fellow, in the uniform of an ex-sailor, was talking in one of the halls, and there was a crowd around him. Count Ilya Andreevich, who, in his Voevdd caftan of the days of Catherine, was pacing up and down through the crowd, with a pleasant smile on his countenance for all the people he knew, walked over to the same group and began to listen, as usual, with his agreeable smile, and with approving nods of his head to the speaker. The ex-sailor spoke very boldly (this could be seen from the expressions of the faces of his audience, and from the fact that those whom Pierre knew as very submissive and meek persons walked away disapprovingly, or contradicted, him). Pierre pushed his way to the middle of the circle, to hear the speaker; he convinced himself that the sailor was really a liberal, but in an entirely different sense from what Pierre had expected. He spoke with that peculiarly sonorous, singsong baritone, with that charming guttural pronunciation of his r’s and that clipping of his consonants, with which a nobleman calls for his tea or pipe. His voice betrayed that he was addicted to the pleasures of the table and to giving commands.

” What if the Smolénsk people have offered the militia to the emperor ? Are the Smolénskans a law to us ? If the distinguished nobility of the Government of Moscow find it necessary to express their loyalty to the emperor, they will find the proper means for doing so. Have we forgotten the militia of the year 1807 ? The only men who profited by it were the carousers and thieves — “

Count Ilyd Andréevich, smiling sweetly, nodded his head approvingly.

“Well, have our militiamen been of any use to our country ? No, not at all ! They have only ruined our estates. Recruitment would be better — else they will return to you neither as soldiers, nor as peasants, and there will be nothing but debauch. The gentry do not spare their lives, — we will go ourselves one and all. We will take our recruits along, and, let the emperor just give us a call, we will all die for him,” added the orator, becoming excited.

Ilyä Andréevich swallowed from pleasure and nudged Pierre, but Pierre wanted to speak himself. He moved forward, feeling himself inspired, not knowing himself by what, nor what he was going to say. He had just opened his mouth to speak, when a toothless senator with an intelligent and angry face, who was standing near the speaker, interrupted Pierre. He spoke softly, but audibly, betraying the habit of carrying on discussions and putting questions :

” I suppose, dear sir,” the senator said, lisping with his toothless mouth, ” that we have not been called here to discuss what is more advantageous for the country at the present moment, whether it is the levy of the militia or of recruits. We have been called to respond to the appeal which our emperor has honoured us with, and we will leave it to the higher power to decide what is more advantageous, the levy of the militia or of the recruits.”

Pierre suddenly discovered an issue for his animation. He was infuriated against the senator, who was introducing that order and that narrowness of conception into the affairs of the nobility. Pierre stepped forward and stopped him. He did not know what he was going to say, but he began excitedly, now and then bursting into French, and expressing himself in scholastic Russian :

“Pardon me, your Excellency,” he began (Pierre was well acquainted with the senator, but he deemed it proper to address him now in an official manner), ” though I do not agree with Mr. — ” (Pierre hesitated. He wanted to say, “ Mon très honorable préopinant, with Mr. — que je n’ai pas l’honneur de connaître ” ), ” I assume that in addition to expressing their sympathy and enthusiasm, the nobility are called in order to discuss the measures we can take to assist our country. I assume,” he spoke with enthusiasm, ” that the emperor would be dissatisfied if he saw in us nothing but proprietors of peasants, whom we give up to him as — chair à canon, which we are making of ourselves, and if he did not find in us cou-cou-counsel.”

Many left the circle, as they noticed the senator’s disdainful smile, and perceived that Pierre was speaking without restraint; Ilyd Andréevich was the only one who was satisfied with Pierre’s speech, just as he had been satisfied with the sailor’s and the senator’s speeches, — in general, with the last speech he had heard.

” I assume that, before deliberating on this question,” continued Pierre, ” we ought to ask the emperor, we ought most respectfully to ask his Majesty, to communicate to us how large our present army is, in what condition our troops are, and then — ”

But Pierre did not have a chance to finish his words, when he was attacked on three sides. The most violent attack was made on him by Ins old acquaintance, the boston player Stepan Stepanovich Apraksin, who had always been friendly to him. He now wore his uniform, and, probably for that reason, Pierre saw a different man before him. Stepdn Stepanovich called out to Pierre, with the malicious expression of an old man, in his face :

” In the first place I will inform you that we have no right to ask the emperor for it, and, secondly, if the Russian gentry had such a right, the Tsar could make no reply to us. The troops are moving in accordance with the movements of the enemy, — the troops are growing less or more numerous — ”

Another voice, belonging to a man of medium stature, of about forty years of age, whom in former days Pierre bad seen with the gipsies, and whom he knew as a poor card-player, and who now, himself transformed in his uniform, moved up to Pierre, interrupted Apraksin.

“This is not the proper time for deliberations,” this nobleman cried, ” but for actions : there is a war in Russia. Our enemy is advancing to crush Russia, to profane the tombs of our forefathers, to carry off our women and children.” The nobleman struck his breast with his fist. ” We will all of us rise, we will go, one and all, for the Tsar, our father ! ” he shouted, rolling his bloodshot eyes. Several approving voices were heard in the crowd. “ We are Russians, and will not spare our blood in the defence of our faith, our throne, and our country. We must leave all drivelling talk aside, if we are sons of our fatherland. We will show Europe how Russia rises to defend Russia,” shouted the nobleman.

Pierre wanted to retort, but was unable to say a word. He felt that the sound of his words, independently of the thought which they contained, was less audible than the sound of the words of the animated nobleman.

Ilyd Andreevich was nodding approvingly in the rear of the crowd ; a few men, at the end of the speech, turned sidewise to the orator and said :

” That’s what ! That’s right ! “

Pierre wanted to say that he was not disinclined to sacrifice money, peasants, or himself, but that it was first necessary to know how matters stood in order to mend them; but he could not speak. Many voices shouted and spoke at the same time, so that Ilyà Andréevich did not have time to nod to all. The group increased and broke up, again came together, and moved, with a din of voices, into the larger hall, up to a large table. Pierre had no chance to say anything: he was rudely interrupted and pushed aside, and men turned away from him as from a common enemy. This was not due to their dissatisfaction with the meaning of his speech, — they forgot it after the great number of speeches which had followed, — but for the animation of the crowd it was necessary to have a palpable object of love and a palpable object of hatred. Pierre had become the latter. Many orators spoke after the excited nobleman, and all spoke in the same tone. Many of them expressed themselves well and with originality.

The editor of the Russian Messenger, Glinka, who was recognized (“ Author ! Author ! ” voices in the crowd exclaimed), said that hell ought to be fought with hell, and that he had seen a child smiling at the flash of lightning and at peals of thunder, but that we would not be that child.

” Yes, yes, at the peals of thunder ! ” approving voices spoke in the last rows.

The crowd walked up to the large table, where, in uniforms and sashes, sat gray-haired, bald-headed, septuagenarian dignitaries, nearly all of whom Pierre had seen at home with their buffoons, or in the clubs at the game of boston. The crowd walked over to the table, still continuing its din. One after another, and occasionally two at a time, the orators spoke, pushed against the backs of the chairs by the pressing crowd. Those who stood behind noticed what the orator had omitted to say, and hastened to supply the want. Others, in this heat and crowd, rummaged through their heads, trying to find some ideas, which they hastened to express. The old dignitaries, Pierre’s acquaintances, were sitting and looking now at one, and now at another, and the expression of the majority of them said only that they felt hot. Pierre, however, was agitated, and the universal feeling of readiness for any sacrifice, which was expressed not so much in the meaning of the words as in the sounds and in the expressions of the faces, was also communicated to him. He did not renounce his ideas, but felt guilty and wanted to justify himself.

“All I said was that it would be more advantageous for us to make sacrifices when we know what the need is,” he exclaimed, trying to shout louder than the others.

One of the old men, who was nearest to him, looked around, but was immediately attracted by a shout at the other end of the table.

” Yes, Moscow will be surrendered ! She will be our Saviour ! ” some one was crying.

” He is the foe of humanity ! ” shouted another. ” Permit me to speak — Gentlemen, you are crushing me ! — ”

XXIII.

Just then Count Rostopchin, with his protruding chin and quick eyes, wearing the uniform of a general, with the sash across the shoulder, entered with rapid steps, while the gentry moved aside to make a path for him.

“ The emperor will be here soon,” said Rostopchin. ” I am just coming from him. It seems to me that there is no time for deliberations, considering the condition we are in. The emperor has deigned to call us and the merchants,” said Prince Rostopchin. “Millions will be poured forth from there” (he pointed to the hall of the merchants), ” and it is our business to provide the militia and not to spare ourselves — This is the least we can do ! “

The deliberations began among the dignitaries who were seated at the table. The whole deliberation was more than quiet. It even seemed sad, when, after all the former noise, there were heard the voices saying, ” I agree to it ! ” or, for a change, “ I am of the same opinion ! ” and so forth.

The secretary was ordered to record the decree of the Moscow nobility, which was that the Muscovites, like the inhabitants of Smolénsk, offered ten men in the thousand and their complete equipment. The presiding dignitaries arose, as though relieved of a burden, rattled with their chairs, and went through the hall, limbering up their legs, linking arms, and talking with each other.

“ The emperor, the emperor ! ” they suddenly cried through the halls, and the whole crowd rushed toward the entrance.

The emperor walked into the hall along a broad walk, between two walls of noblemen. There was an expression of respectful and frightened curiosity on all the faces. Pierre stood quite a distance away, and could not hear well the speech of the emperor. From what he caught, he understood that the emperor was speaking of the danger in which the country was, and of the hopes which he placed in the gentry of Moscow. The emperor was followed by another voice winch informed him of the decree just passed by the gentry.

” Gentlemen ! ” the emperor said, with a quivering voice ; the crowd stirred a little, and again grew quiet, and Pierre heard distinctly the humane, agreeable, and touched voice of the emperor, saying :

” I have never had any doubts as to the zeal of the Russian gentry. But on this day it has surpassed my expectations. I thank you in the name of the country. Gentlemen, we will act, — time is most precious — “

The emperor grew silent ; the assemblage began to crowd around him, and from all sides could be heard enthusiastic exclamations.

” Yes, most precious of all — are the words of the Tsar,” sobbing, said Ilya Andréevich, who was standing in the rear. He had not heard anything, but understood it all in his own manner.

From the hall of the gentry the emperor passed to the hall of the merchants. He remained there about ten minutes. Pierre, among others, saw the emperor emerge from the hall of the merchants, with tears of emotion in his eyes. It was learned later that the emperor had just begun his speech to the merchants, when the tears gushed from his eyes, and he finished in a trembling voice. When Pierre saw the emperor, he was coming out, accompanied by two merchants. One of them, a stout liquor monopolist, was familiar to Pierre ; the other, the mayor, had a thin, sallow face with a narrow beard. Both were weeping.

Tears were in the eyes of the thin-faced man, but the monopolist cried like a child and kept saying:

” Take our lives and our property, your Majesty ! “

Pierre at that moment felt nothing but the desire to show that nothing was too much for him and that he was prepared to sacrifice everything. His speech with its constitutional bias appeared to him as a reproach ; he was trying to find an opportunity to wipe it out. When he heard that Count Mamdnov furnished a whole regiment, Bezukhi immediately announced to Rostopchln that be would give one thousand men and would furnish their maintenance.

Old Rostdv was not able to tell his wife what had happened without tears, and at once consented to Pétya’s request, and himself went away to have him enlisted.

On the following day the emperor departed. The gentry who had been at the assembly took off their uniforms, again took up their customary places in the houses and clubs, and, with groans, gave orders to their superintendents about the militia, and wondered at what they had done.

PART THE TENTH

I.

Napoleon began his war with Russia because he could not help coming to Dresden, getting his head turned by honours, putting on a Polish uniform, submitting to the active influence of a June morning, and giving way to an outburst of anger in the presence of Kurakin and later of Balashév.

Alexander declined all negotiations because he felt himself personally insulted. Barclay de Tolly tried in the best way possible to manage his army, in order to do his duty and earn the glory of a great general. Rostov galloped to attack the French because he could not repress a desire to gallop over a level plain. Even thus, by dint of their personal qualities, habits, conditions, and purposes, acted all the innumerable participants in the war. They feared, were vain, rejoiced, censured, deliberated, assuming that they knew what they were doing, and that they were acting in their own behalves, whereas they all were the involuntary tools of history, and produced certain results, which were puzzling to them, but are intelligible to us. Such is the invariable fate of all the actors in practical affairs, and they are the less free, the higher they stand in the human hierarchy.

Now the actors of the year 1812 have long ago left their places, their personal interests have disappeared without leaving a trace, and only the historical results of that time are before us.

But let us suppose that the men of Europe were compelled, under the guidance of Napoleon, to penetrate into the interior of Russia and perish there. Then all the self-contradictory, senseless, cruel activity of the participants in this war becomes intelligible to us.

Providence compelled all these men, who were striving after their personal aims, to cooperate in the accomplishment of one grand result, of which not one man (neither Napoleon nor Alexander, nor, much less, any other participant in this war) had the least idea.

Now it is clear to us what in the year 1812 was the cause of the destruction of the French army. No one will dispute that the cause of the destruction of the French troops of Napoleon was, on the one hand, their having at a late time entered, without preparation, on a winter campaign in the interior of Russia, and, on the other, the character which the war assumed from the burning of the Russian towns and from the hatred of the enemy which was instilled in the Russian nation. But at that time no one foresaw, what now is so evident, that only in this manner could have perished an army of 800,000 men, the best in the world, and led by the best of generals, in its conflict with the Russian army, which had only half its strength, and which was inexperienced and led by inexperienced generals ; not only did no one foresee it, but all the efforts on the side of the Russians were continually directed toward avoiding the very things which alone could save Russia, and, on the side of the French, in spite of their experience and the so-called genius of Napoleon, every effort was made to stretch out as far as Moscow before the end of summer, that is, to do the precise thing that was to ruin them.

In the historical works on the year 1812, the French authors like to speak of the fact that Napoleon felt the danger of stretching his lines, that he was trying to give battle, and that the marshals advised him to stop in Smolénsk, and they adduce similar arguments to prove that even then the danger of the campaign was fully appreciated ; and the Russian authors like to speak still more of the fact that in the beginning of the campaign there existed a plan of a Scythian war, to consist of enticing Napoleon into the interior of Russia, and some ascribe this plan to Pfuel, some to a Frenchman, or to Toll, or to Emperor Alexander himself, pointing to notes, projects, and letters in which there are, indeed, hints at this manner of action. But all these hints of foresight are now brought forward, both on the side of the French and on the side of the Russians, because the events have justified them. If the event had not taken place, these hints would have been forgotten, like thousands and millions of contrary hints and suppositions, which then were current, but have proved incorrect, and so have been forgotten. For the issue of any event there are always so many suppositions that, no matter how it may end, there will always be found people who will say, ” I told you then that it would end so,” forgetting entirely that in the endless mass of suppositions made there were some that were diametrically opposed.

The suppositions about Napoleon’s consciousness of the danger of extending his fines, and, on the side of the Russians, of drawing the enemy into the interior of Russia, evidently belong to this order, and only by a long stretch of the imagination can the historians ascribe such considerations to Napoleon and such plans to the Russian military leaders. All the facts absolutely contradict such assumptions. Not only had there been during the whole war no desire on the part of the Russians to entice the French into the depth of Russia, but everything had been done to arrest them from the moment they had entered the country, and not only had Napoleon not been afraid of extending his lines, but he was even rejoiced, as at a triumph, at every step of his in advance, and, quite differently from his other campaigns, he was loth to give battle.

In the beginning of the campaign our troops are separated, and the only purpose which we have is to unite them, though there is no advantage in the union of the armies, if it is necessary to retreat and entice the enemy into the interior. The emperor is with the army in order to stir the soldiers to defend every foot of Russian soil, and not to retreat. An enormous camp at the Drfssa is constructed according to Pfuel’s plans, and there is no idea of retreating any farther. The emperor rebukes the commanders-in-chief for every step backward. Not the conflagration of Moscow, nor even the admission of the enemy into Smolénsk, presents itself to the emperor’s imagination, and when the armies are united the Tsar is provoked because Smolénsk is captured, and because no general engagement has taken place before its walls.

Thus thinks the emperor, but the Russian military leaders and all the Russians are provoked even more at the thought that our armies are retreating into the interior of the country.

Having cut the armies in two, Napoleon moves into the interior and several times loses the chance of giving battle. In the month of August he is at Smolénsk and thinks only of advancing, although, as we now see, this advance is evidently ruinous to him.

The facts show plainly that neither did Napoleon foresee the perils in his advance to Moscow, nor did Alexander and the military leaders of Russia at that time think of enticing Napoleon, but of the contrary. The advance of Napoleon into the interior of the country did not take place by any plan (no one believed in the possibility of one), but was due to a most complicated play of intrigues, purposes, and desires in the participants in the war, who did not divine what had to be, nor what was the only salvation of Russia. Everything takes place by accident. The armies are separated in the beginning of the campaign. We try to unite them with the evident purpose of giving battle and retarding the advance of the enemy, but in this tendency toward union, while avoiding battles with the superior forces of the enemy, and involuntarily moving away at an oblique angle, we lead the French up to Smolénsk. But it is not enough to say that we recede at an oblique angle because the French are moving between the two armies, — this angle becomes sharper still, and we recede farther, because Barclay de Tolly, an unpopular German, is hateful to Bagratidn, who is to be under his command, and Bagratidn, commanding the second army, tries as long as possible to keep away from a union with Barclay, merely to avoid being under his command. Bagratidn is a long time in bringing about the union (though this is the main purpose of all the persons in command) because he thinks that on this march he endangers his army, and that it is most advantageous for him to retreat to the left and south, harassing the enemy from the flank and rear, and complementing his army in the Ukraine. Yet, this seems an excuse invented by him merely because he does not wish to submit to the German Barclay, who is his junior, and whom he hates.

The emperor is with the army in order to stir it, but his presence and his ignorance of what to begin, and the enormous quantity of counsellors and plans paralyze the energy of action in the first army, and the army retreats.

It is intended to stop in the Dnssa camp ; but suddenly Paulucci, who has an eye on the position of commanderin-chief, affects Alexander by his energy, and Pfuel’s whole plan is abandoned, and the whole matter is entrusted to Barclay. But since Barclay does not inspire confidence, his power is limited. The armies are broken up, there is no concentration of command, Barclay is not popular ; but, from this tangle, this decentralization, and the unpopularity of the German commanderin-chief, there flows, on the one hand, indecision and avoidance of battles (which could not have been avoided if the armies had been united, and another than Barclay the commanderin-chief), and, on the other hand, an ever increasing irritation against the Germans, and the awakening of the patriotic spirit.

Finally the emperor leaves the army, and as the only plausible pretext is chosen the idea that his departure is necessary in order to stir the populations of the capitals to the national war. And thus this journey of the emperor to Moscow increases the strength of the Russian army threefold.

The emperor leaves the army in order not to embarrass the central power of the commanderin-chief, and hopes that more decisive measures will be taken ; but the condition of the chief command is only growing weaker and more entangled. Bénigsen, the grand duke, and a swarm of adjutants-general remain with the army in order to watch the actions of the commanderin-chief, and to rouse his energy, and Barclay, feeling himself still less free under all these ” eyes of the emperor,” becomes more cautious about decisive actions, and avoids battles.

Barclay is for caution. The Tsesarévich hints at treason and demands a general battle. Lubomirski, Bronnicki, Wlocki, and the like so fan this rumour that Barclay, under the pretext of forwarding certain documents to the emperor, sends these Polish adjutants-general away to St. Petersburg and enters into an open struggle with Bénigsen and the grand duke.

In Smolénsk the armies at last unite, in spite of Bagratién’s wish.

Bagration drives up in a carriage to the house occupied by Barclay. Barclay puts on his sash, comes out to meet him, and reports to Bagratidn, who is a senior in rank. Bagration, in a struggle of magnanimity, in spite of his seniority, submits to Barclay ; but, in so submitting, agrees with him still less. By the emperor’s command, Bagration reports to him in person. He writes to Arakchéev : “ It is the will of my sovereign, but I cannot get along with the minister (Barclay). For the Lord’s sake, send me somewhere to command a regiment, for I cannot stay here ; the whole headquarters are filled with Germans, so that a Russian cannot exist, and there is no sense in it. I thought that I really was serving the emperor and my country, but it turns out that I am serving Barclay. I confess I do not want it.”

A swarm of Bronnickis, Wintzingerodes, and the like poison the relations of the commanders-in-chief still more, and there is still less union. They are getting ready to attack the French at Smolénsk. A general is sent to examine the position. This general, who hates Barclay, rides to his friend, the commander of a corps, and, staying there the whole day, returns to Barclay and thoroughly discusses the field of battle, which he has not seen.

While there are discussions and intrigues about the future field of battle, while we are looking for the French, and blundering about their position, the French stumble on Nevyerdvski’s division and march up to the very walls of Smolénsk.

It is necessary to accept the unexpected battle at Smolénsk, in order to save our communications. The battle is given. Thousands on either side are killed.

Smolénsk is abandoned, despite the will of the emperor and of the whole nation. But Smolénsk is burnt by the inhabitants themselves, who are deceived by their governor, and the ruined inhabitants, showing an example to other inhabitants, go to Moscow, thinking only of their losses, and fanning the hatred for the enemy. Napoleon advances, we retreat, and that is accomplished which is to vanquish Napoleon.

IL

On the day following the departure of his son, Prince Nikolay Andréevich called Princess Märya to him.

“Well, are you satisfied now ?” he said to her. “You have made me and my son quarrel ! You are satisfied ! That is all you wanted ! Are you satisfied ? It pains me. I am old and feeble, and this is what you wanted. Rejoice, rejoice ! ”

After that, Princess Marya did not see her father for a week. He was ill and did not leave his cabinet. To her surprise, Princess Marya noticed that during this time he did not admit Mlle. Pou rien ne, either. Tikhon was the only one who attended him.

A week later the prince came out and again began his former life, busying himself most diligently with the buildings and gardens, and giving up all his former relations with Mlle. Bourienne. His look and his cold tone when he was with Princess Mdrya seemed to say to her : ” You see ! You have lied against me to Prince Andréy, telling him about my relations with this Frenchwoman, and you have caused us to quarrel ; but you see that I need neither you nor the Frenchwoman.”

One-half of the day Princess Mdrya passed with little Nikolay, watching his lessons, herself giving him lessons in Russian and music, and speaking with Desalles; the other part of the day she passed with books, with her old nurse, and with the God’s people, who occasionally came to see her by the back porch.

Of the war Princess Mdrya thought just as women always think of war. She was anxious on account of her brother who was there, and was terrified at the incomprehensible cruelty of men, which caused them to kill each other ; but she did not understand the significance of the war, which to her seemed in no way to differ from previous wars. She did not understand the meaning of this war, although Desalles, her constant companion, who was passionately interested in its course, tried to expound to her his views on the matter, and although the God’s people, who visited her, in their own way spoke with terror of the coming of the antichrist, and although Julie, now Princess Drubetskdy, who had again entered into correspondence with her, kept writing her patriotic letters from Moscow.

“ I am writing you in Russian, my dear friend,” wrote Julie, ” because I hate all the French, as well as their language, which I cannot bear to hear spoken — We, in Moscow, are transported with enthusiasm for our adored emperor.

” My poor husband endures hunger and fatigue in Jewish taverns, but the news which I receive makes me still more enthusiastic.

” You have, no doubt, heard of the heroic deed of Raévski, who embraced his two sons and said : ‘ I will die with them, but we will not waver ! ‘ And indeed, although the enemy was twice as strong as we, we did not waver.

” We pass the time as best we can ; but war-times are war-times. Princess Alina and Sophie are sitting with me for days at a time, and we, unfortunate widows of living husbands, carry on beautiful conversations while making lint ; but we miss you — ” and so forth.

Princess Marya did not understand the whole significance of this war, more especially because the old prince never spoke of it, did not recognize it, and laughed at dinner at Desalles, who spoke of it. The prince’s tone was so calm and convincing that Princess Marya believed him without any further reflection.

During the whole month of July the old prince was exceedingly active and even animated. He started a new garden and a new structure for the manorial servants. What worried Princess Märya was that he did not sleep much and that he had given up his habit of sleeping in the cabinet, and every day changed his resting-place. Now he ordered his camp-bed to be placed in the gallery, and now he remained on the sofa or in the easy-chair in the drawingroom, where he dozed off without undressing himself, while, not Mlle. Bourienne, but the boy Petrusha, read to him ; sometimes again he slept in the dining-room.

On the 1st of August a second letter was received fron; Prince Andréy. In his first letter, which had been received soon after his departure, Prince Andréy humbly asked his father’s pardon for what he had allowed himself to say to him, and begged to be received in his favour again. The old prince answered him in a kind letter, and soon afterward cooled off toward the Frenchwoman. Prince Andréy’s second letter, written near Vitebsk, after the French had occupied it, consisted of a short description of the whole campaign, with a plan, drawn in the letter, and of his reflections on the future course of the campaign. Prince Andréy represented to him the disadvantages of being in the neighbourhood of the theatre of war, on the very line of the advance of the army, and advised him to leave for Moscow.

On that day the old prince recalled Prince Andréy’s letter, when, at dinner, Desalles mentioned that there was a rumour that the French had already entered Vitebsk.

“Have heard from Prince Andréy to-day,” he said to Princess Marya. ” Have you read the letter ? “

“No, mon père” the princess replied, terrified. She could not have read a letter which she did not even know of.

” He writes about this war,” said the prince, with that habitual, contemptuous smile with which he always spoke of the war.

” It must be very interesting ! ” said Desalles. “ The prince is in a position to know — “

” Oh, how interesting ! ” said Mlle. Bourienne.

” Go and bring it to me,” the old prince turned to Mlle. Bourienne. ” You know, on the small table under the paper-weight.”

Mlle. Bourienne leaped up, ready to execute the order.

“ Oh, no ! ” he cried, frowning. “ You go, Mikhail Ivdnych ! “

Mikhaïl Ivanych rose and went to the cabinet. But the moment he had gone out, the old prince, looking restlessly about him, threw down his napkin and went away himself.

” They do not know a thing, — they will get everything mixed up.”

While he was walking out, Princess Mär y a, Desalles, Mlle. Bourienne, and even Nikolay looked at one another in silence. The old prince returned at a rapid pace, accompanied by Mikhail Ivdnych, holding the letter and the plan, which he did not give to any one to read, but kept by his side.

As he passed into the drawingroom, he handed the letter to Princess Marya and, spreading before him the plan of a new building and fixing his eyes upon it, ordered her to read aloud. Having read the letter, Princess Mdrya looked interrogatively at her father. He looked at the plan, apparently lost in thought.

” What do you think of it, prince ? ” Desalles took the liberty of addressing a question to him.

“ I ? I ?” the prince said, as though awakened disagreeably, and without taking his eyes off the plan of the building.

“It is very possible that the theatre of war will be transferred near us — ”

” Ha, ha, ha ! The theatre of war ! ” said the prince. « I have told you that the theatre of war is Poland, and the enemy will not penetrate farther than the Nyéman.”

Desalles looked in surprise at the prince, who was speaking of the Nyéman, when the enemy was already at the Dnieper ; but Princess Marya, who had forgotten the geographical position of the Nyéman, thought that what her father was saying was true.

” During the thaw of the snows they will drown in the swamps of Poland. They are so blind they do not see it,” said the prince, apparently thinking of the campaign of 1807, which to him seemed to have happened but recently. ” If Bénigsen had entered Prussia earlier, the affair would have taken a different turn —”

” But, prince,” Desalles said, timidly, ” the letter mentions Vitebsk — “

” Ah, the letter ? Yes — ” the prince said, with a dissatisfied look. ” Yes — yes — ” His face suddenly assumed a gloomy aspect. He was silent for a moment. “Yes, he writes that the French have been beaten, — at what river ? “

Desalles lowered his eyes.

“ The prince does not write anything about it,” he said, softly.

” Does he not ? I did not invent it myself.”

All were silent for a long time.

” Yes — yes — Well, Mikhail Ivänych,” he suddenly said, raising his head and pointing to the plan of the building, ” tell me how you are going to change it — “

Mikhail Ivanych went up to the plan, and the prince, having spoken with him about the plan of the new structure, cast an angry glance at Princess Mdrya and Desalles, and went away to his cabinet.

Princess Marya saw Desalles’s embarrassed and surprised glance, which was directed at her father, and noticed his silence, and was startled when she noticed that her father had forgotten and left his son’s letter on the table in the drawingroom ; but she was afraid to speak and ask Desalles about the cause of his embarrassment and silence, or even to think of it.

In the evening Mikhail Ivdnych, having been sent by the prince, came to Princess Marya for Prince Andréy’s letter which he had forgotten and left in the drawingroom. Though it was unpleasant for her to do so, she allowed herself to ask Mikhail Ivanych what her father was doing.

” The prince is worrying,” Mikhail Ivanych said, with a respectful, though sarcastic, smile, which made Princess Märya grow pale. ” The prince is very much worried about the new structure. He has read a little, and now,” lowering his voice, said Mikhail Ivdnych, “ he is at the bureau, — no doubt busy with the will.”

Of late it had become one of the prince’s favourite occupations to busy himself with his papers, which were to be left after his death, and which he called his will.

“Is he sending Alpatych to Smolénsk?” asked Princess Märya.

« Certainly. He has been waiting for awhile.”

III.

When Mikhail Ivanych returned to the cabinet with the letter, the prince in spectacles, with shade over his eyes and over the candles, was sitting at an open bureau, holding papers in his extended hand and, in a somewhat solemn attitude, reading the papers (” remarks ” he called them), which after his death were to be transmitted to the emperor.

As Mikhail Ivänych entered, the prince’s eyes were filled with reminiscent tears caused by the memory of the time when he had written what he now was reading. He took the letter out of the hands of Mikhail Ivänych, put it in his pocket, straightened out his papers, and called up Alpätych, who had been waiting for some time.

On a small sheet of paper was written what he wanted in Smolénsk, and, walking up and down in the room, past Alpätych, who was waiting at the door, he began to give orders.

” First, letter paper, do you hear, eight quires, like this sample, gilt-edged — by all means like this sample ; sealing-wax— according to Mikhail Ivänych’s note.”

He took a few steps through the room and looked into a memorandum-book.

“ Then hand the governor in person the letter about the legal document.”

Then there were needed door-bolts for the new structure, of the precise pattern which the prince had invented. Then Alpätych was to order a leather box in which to put away his will.

More than two hours passed in giving him these orders. The prince still kept him. He sat down, fell to musing, and, closing his eyes, dozed off. Alpätych stirred.

” Go, go ! If I need you, I will send for you.”

Alpätych went out. The prince again went up to the bureau ; he looked into it, touched his papers with his hand, again locked it, and sat down at the table to write the governor a letter. It was late when he got up, after sealing his letter. He wanted to sleep, but he knew that he should not fall asleep, and that the worst kind of thoughts would come to him in bed. He called Tikhon, and walked from one room to another, in order to tell him where to make the bed for him for the night. He went around, looking into every corner.

He did not find it nice anywhere, but he felt worst of all on the sofa in the cabinet. This sofa was terrible to him, probably on account of the oppressive thoughts which he had thought when lying upon it. It was not good anywhere, but least objectionable was the corner in the sofaroom, back of the piano : he had never slept there.

Tikhon and a lackey brought the bed and began to make it.

” Not that way, not that way ! ” exclaimed the prince, himself moving the bed a trifle, and then back again.

“Well, I have finished all my work, and I can rest now,” thought the prince, allowing Tikhon to undress him.

Angrily frowning from the effort which it was necessary to make in order to take off his caftan and pantaloons, the prince undressed himself, fell heavily on his bed, and seemed to be reflecting, as he looked contemptuously at his sallow, dried up legs. He was not deep in thought, but only hesitated before the necessary labour of lifting his legs and rolling over in his bed. ” Oh, if these labours would only be ended soon, and you would dismiss me ! ” he thought. Pressing his lips together, he for the twenty thousandth time made this effort and lay down. But he had barely taken up his position, when suddenly the whole bed swayed evenly up and down, as though it were breathing heavily and pushing him. This happened to him every night. He opened his eyes, which he had halfshut.

“No rest, accursed ones ! ” he growled at some one. “ Yes, yes, there was something important, something very important, which I have saved for the night in bed. The bolts ? No, I told him about them. No, something that was in the drawingroom. Princess Marya talked some nonsense, Desalles, the fool, said something. There was something in my pocket, — Ido not remember what.”

” Tikhon, what did we talk about at dinner ? “

“ About Prince Mikhail.”

“ Keep quiet, keep quiet.” The prince struck the table with his fist. “Yes, I know, Prince Andréy’s letter. Princess Marya read it. Desalles said something about Vitebsk. I will read it now.”

He told Tikhon to get the letter out of his pocket, and to move up to the bed a little table with the lemonade and a twisted wax candle. He put on his glasses and began to read. Only now, in the quiet of the night, by the feeble light underneath a green shade, did he, after reading the letter, for a moment understand its meaning.

“TheFrench are in Vitebsk! In four days’ marches they may be in Smolénsk ; maybe they are already there. Tikhon ! “

Tikhon leaped up.

“ No, I do not want you, no ! ” he shouted.

He concealed the letter under the candlestick and closed his eyes. And he saw before him the Danube, a bright noonday, rushes, a Russian camp, and he himself a young general, without a single wrinkle on his face, a wide-awake, merry, ruddy-faced man, walking into Potemkin’s variegated tent. A burning feeling of envy toward the favourite, as strong as it was then, agitated him. He recalled all the words winch had been said then, during the first meeting with Potémkin. And he saw before him a plump, sallow-faced, undersized, stout woman, the empress, and recalled her smiles and words, as she kindly received him for the first time, and then her face on the catafalque, and that conflict with Zubov, which took place at the coflin, in respect to his privilege to walk up to her hand.

“ Ah, if I only could return at once to that time, and if all that is now could end soon, at once, so that I may be left in peace ! ”

IV.

Lys Y ya Gôry, the property of Prince Nikolây Andréevich Bolkdnski, was within sixty versts of Smolensk, and back of it, within three versts of the Moscow highway.

On that same evening, while the prince was giving his commands to Alpâtych, Desalles asked Princess Marya for an interview, at which he informed her that, since the prince was not quite well and took no measures for his safety, while from the letter of Prince Andréy it was evident that the stay at Lÿsyya Gory was not without danger, he respectfully advised her to send by Alpâtych a letter to the chief of the Government in Smolensk, begging him to inform her of the state of affairs and of the degree of danger to which Lÿsyya G dry was subjected. Desalles wrote the letter for Princess Mârya, and she signed it and gave it to Alpâtych with the order to take it to the governor and, in case of danger, to return as fast as possible.

Having received all the orders, Alpâtych, accompanied by the people of the house, and wearing a white down cap (a present of the prince’s) and carrying a cane like the prince’s, went out to seat himself in the leather roadcarriage, which was drawn by three well-fed bays.

The large bell was tied up and the small jingling bells covered with paper. The prince permitted no one at Lÿsyya Gory to travel with a bell. But Alpâtych was fond of bells on a distant journey. Alpätych’s courtiers, the village scribe, the office clerk, the cook, the scullion, two old women, the Cossack lad, the coachmen, and various manorial servants saw him off.

His daughter placed chintz down pillows behind his back and under him. His old sister-in-law secretly put in a little bundle. One of the coachmen helped him in.

” Oh, the gatherings of women ! The women, the women ! ” Alpâtych spoke hurriedly and puffingly, like the prince, and seated himself in the carriage. Having given his last orders about the work to the village scribe, in which he no longer imitated the prince, Alpâtych took off his hat from his bald head and three times made the sign of the cross.

“ If there is anything, turn back, Yâkov Alpâtych ! For Christ’s sake, think of us!” his wife exclaimed, referring to the rumours of the war and of the enemy.

” Women, women, women’s gatherings ! ” Alpâtych mumbled, as he rode off. He kept looking at the fields, covered with the yellowing rye, or with stout green oats, or still black and about to be ploughed up again. Alpâtych looked with pleasure at the remarkable crop of that year’s summer grain, watched the strips of rye, which were being mowed in spots, and was making his calculations about the sowing and the harvest, and trying to think whether some command of the prince had not been forgotten.

Having fed the horses twice on the way, Alpâtych, on the evening of August 4th, arrived in the city.

On the highway Alpâtych met and came abreast with baggagetrains and troops. As he approached Smolensk, he heard distant shots, but these sounds did not startle him.

What did surprise him was that, as he came near to Smolensk, he saw a beautiful field of oats, which some soldiers were cutting down apparently to feed to the horses, and that a camp was pitched in this field : this circumstance startled Alpâtych, but he soon forgot it, thinking of his own affairs.

All the interests of Alpdtych’s life had for more than thirty years been limited to the will of the prince, and he never emerged from that circle. Everything which did not have anything to do with the execution of the prince’s orders, not only did not interest him, but did not even exist for him.

Upon arriving in Smolensk, on the evening of the 4th of August, Alpdtych stopped on the other side of the Dnieper, in the suburb of Gâcha, in the tavern of Ferapdntov, with whom he had been stopping for thirty years. Ferapdntov had thirty years before, with the aid of Alpdtych, bought a grove from the prince, after which he had turned merchant, and now he was possessed of a house, a tavern and a flour shop in the capital of the Government. Ferapdntov was a fat, swarthy, red-faced peasant of forty years of age, with thick lips, a thick, unshapely nose, similar bumps over his black, scowling eyebrows, and a fat belly.

Ferapdntov, in a waistcoat and chintz shirt, was standing at his shop, which opened on the street. Upon seeing Alpdtych, he walked over to him.

” You are welcome, Yakov Alpdtych. People are leaving the city, and you are coming in,” said the tavern-keeper.

” Why do they leave it ? ” asked Alpdtych.

” I say the people are stupid. They are afraid of the French.”

” Women’s talk, women’s talk,” said Alpdtych.

” That’s what I say, Yakov Alpdtych. I say that there is an order not to let them in, and that’s right. The peasants ask three roubles for a team, — they are forgetting the cross ! ”

Ydkov Alpdtych did not listen attentively. He ordered the samovar and hay for the horses, and, having had his fill of tea, lay down to sleep.

All night long the troops moved down the street and past the tavern. On the next morning Alpdtych put on a waistcoat, which he donned only when he was in town, and attended to his business. The sun began to shine brightly in the morning, and at eight o’clock it was already hot : a fine day for the harvest, thought Alpdtych. Ever since early in the morning reports of guns could be heard beyond the city.

At eight o’clock the fusilade was followed by the reports of large guns. There were many people in the street, hurrying somewhere, and many soldiers ; but just as usual, cabmen drove their horses, and merchants stood near their shops, and divine service was held in the churches. Alpdtych went to the shops, the Government offices, the post-office, and to the governor. In the offices, the post-office, the shops, all spoke of the army and the enemy, who was already attacking the city ; people asked each other what to do, and all tried to allay each other’s fears.

Near the house of the governor, Alpdtych found a very large throng of people and Cossacks, and a travelling carriage belonging to the governor. On the porch, Ydkov Alpdtych met two noblemen, one of whom he knew. His acquaintance, a former chief of rural police, was saying in excitement :

” This is no joke. It is all right so long as a man is alone. One poor head is bad enough, but there are thirteen in my family, and all the property — They have brought us to the verge of ruin. What kind of authorities are these ? The robbers ought to be hanged — ”

” You had better stop talking,” said the other.

” What do I care ? Let him hear it ! We are not dogs,” said the ex-chief. As he looked around, he noticed Alpdtych.

” Ah, Ydkov Alpdtych, what are you doing here ?”

” By order of his Serenity, on my way to the governor,” replied Alpdtych, proudly raising his head and putting his hand in the bosom of his coat, which he did every time he mentioned the prince. ” His Serenity has ordered me to find out about the state of affairs,” he said.

” Go and find out,” exclaimed the proprietor. ” They have carried matters so far that you can’t even get a team, nothing ! Do you hear it ? ” he said, pointing in the direction from which the cannonade proceeded.

“ They have brought us to the verge of ruin — robbers ! ” he said again, walking down from the porch.

Alpätych shook his head and ascended the staircase. In the waiting-room were merchants, women, and officials, who silently glanced at each other. The door of the cabinet opened, and all rose from their seats and moved forward. Au official came running out. He said some-tliing to a merchant, called after him a fat official with a cross on his neck, and again disappeared through the door, evidently avoiding all the glances and questions that were directed toward him. Alpätych moved forward, and at the next appearance of the official he put one hand in his buttoned coat and, turning to the official, handed him two letters.

“ To Baron Asch from General-in-chief Prince Bolkdnski,” he proclaimed in such a solemn and significant manner that the official turned to him and took his letters. A few minutes later the governor received Alpätych, to whom he said hastily :

” Inform the prince and princess that I knew nothing, and that I acted according to orders from the sovereign, — you see — “

He handed Alpätych a paper.

” However, since the prince is not well, my advice is for him to go to Moscow. I am going there myself. Inform him — “

But the governor did not finish his sentence. A dust-covered and perspiring officer rushed through the door and began to say something in French. The governor’s face expressed terror.

” Go,” he said, nodding to Alpätych, and turning at once with questions to the officer.

Eager, frightened, helpless glances were directed upon Alpätych, when he left the governor’s cabinet. Listening now involuntarily to the near cannonade, which was growing stronger all the time, Alpätych hurried back to the tavern. The paper which the governor had given to Alpätych, read as follows :

” I assure you that so far Smolensk is not endangered in the least, nor is it likely that it will be. I on one side, and Prince Bagratidn on the other, are marching to unite at Smolensk, which union will take place on the 22d, and both the armies will, with their united forces, protect their countrymen of the Government in your charge, until by their efforts the enemy of our fatherland shall be cast back, or until in their brave ranks the last soldier shall fall. You see from this that you are fully entitled to allay the fears of the inhabitants of Smolensk, because he who is defended by two such brave armies may be sure of their victory.” (Order of Barclay de Tolly to the civil governor of Smolensk, Baron Asch, in 1812.)

The people were restlessly scurrying through the streets.

Wagons loaded to the top with domestic utensils, chairs, and safes kept driving out through the gates and down the streets. Near the house next to Ferapdntov’s stood some vehicles, and women, taking leave, were howling and lamenting. A cur, barking, was circling around the horses that were hitched up.

Alpätych entered the yard with more rapid steps than usual ; he went at once to the carriage-shed where stood his horses and his vehicle. The coachman was asleep; he woke him up, told him to hitch up, and went into the vestibule. In the landlord’s room could be heard the weeping of children, the heartrending sobs of a woman, and Ferapdntov’s cross, hoarse shouting. The cook was fluttering about in the vestibule like a frightened chicken at the moment when Alpätych entered.

” He has killed her ; he has killed the landlady ! He has struck her and walloped her so ! “

” What for ? ” asked Alpätych.

“ She begged him to let her go. Naturally, she is a woman ! ‘ Take me away/ says she, * and do not ruin me and my children ! The people/ says she, ‘ have all left, — why should we not ? ‘ And then he began to strike her. Oh, he beat her so, and he walloped her so ! “

Alpätych seemed to nod approvingly at these words, and, not wishing to know anything more, he went to the room opposite the landlord’s, where his purchases were.

” Scoundrel, murderer,” just then shouted a lean, pale woman, with a child in her arms, and with her kerchief tom from her head, as she darted out of the door and ran downstairs into the yard.

Ferapdntov came out after her, and, seeing Alpätych, he adjusted his waistcoat and hair, opened his mouth with a yawn, and went into the room with Alpatych.

” Are you going to leave now ? ” he asked.

Alpätych did not answer his question, nor look at the landlord ; he rummaged through his purchases and asked the landlord how much he owed him for his stay.

“ I’ll see ! Well, have you been at the governor’s ? ” asked Ferapdntov. ” What decision did you get ? ”

Alpätych replied that the governor had told him nothing positive.

“ How can we in our business move away ? ” said Ferapdntov. ” They ask seven roubles a team as far as Doro-gobfizh, and I say that they have forgotten the cross ! Selivänov had luck last Thursday : he sold his flour to the army at nine roubles a bag. Well, will you drink some tea ? ” he added.

While the horses were being hitched up, Alpätych and Ferapdntov drank tea and talked about the price of grain, about the crops, and about the favourable weather for the harvest.

” It is quieting down, though,” said Ferapdntov, having drunk three cups of tea, and getting up. “No doubt, our side has beaten. I told you they would not let them in. They must be in force. The other day they said that Matvyéy Ivänych Platov drove something like eighteen thousand of them into the river Märina, and they were all drowned in one day.”

Alpätych picked up his purchases, handed them to the coachman, who had come in, and paid Ids bill to the landlord. In the gate were heard the sounds of wheels, hoofs, and bells, as the roadcarriage drove away.

It was long past midday ; half the street was in the shade, the other half was brightly illuminated by the sun. Alpätych looked through the window and went up to the door. Suddenly there was heard the strange sound of a distant whistle and blow, and immediately afterward there resounded the incessant din of a cannonade, which made the window-panes rattle.

Alpatych went out into the street. Two men were running toward the bridge. On all sides could be heard the whistling and striking of balls, and the bursting of grenades, which fell into the city. But these sounds were almost inaudible and did not attract the attention of the inhabitants in comparison with the sounds of the cannonade, which were heard outside the city. It was the bombardment which, at five o’clock, Napoleon had ordered opened up on the city from 130 pieces of ordnance. At first the people did not understand the meaning of this bombardment.

The sounds of the falling grenades and balls at first only roused curiosity. Ferapdntov’s wife, who had not stopped whining near the shed, grew silent, and, with her babe in her arms, went out to the gate, silently looking at the people and listening to the sounds.

The cook and the shop clerk came out to the gate. All tried with cheerful curiosity to catch a glimpse of the projectiles which were borne over their heads. Several people, speaking excitedly, came around the corner.

” What power it has ! ” said one. ” It has smashed the roof and the ceiling into small fragments.”

“ It has ploughed up the ground, like a pig,” said another.

“It just came with terrible force, and it frightened us!”

“It was lucky for you that you jumped away, or it would have smashed you.”

The people surrounded these men. They stopped and told how balls had struck a house close to them. In the meantime, other projectiles — balls, with a rapid, gloomy, whistling sound, and grenades, with a pleasing hum — kept flying above the heads of the people ; but not one projectile fell near by ; they were all carried past them. Alpatych was seating himself in his vehicle. The landlord stood in the gate.

” What is there that you have not seen ? ” he shouted to the cook, who, with her sleeves rolled up and in a red skirt, was swaying her bare elbows, as she was walking to the corner to hear what was being told there.

” How marvellous ! ” she kept saying. But, upon hearing the landlord’s voice, she turned back, pulling down her tucked up skirt.

Again something whistled, this time very close by, like a bird flying down ; a fire flashed in the street, there was an explosion, and the street was shrouded in smoke.

“ Wench, what are you doing there ? ” exclaimed the landlord, running up toward the cook.

Just then women began to whine pitifully on all sides, a child started weeping in fright, and the people silently crowded with frightened faces around the cook. Loudest of all were heard the groans and lamentations of the cook.

” I will show you how to run into yards ! “

Alpdtych ran into the house and, calling the coachman, ordered him to drive out. Ferapontov’s whole family and all the servants followed after Alpdtych and the coachman. When they saw the smoke, and even the fires of the burning buildings, now clearly discernible in the dark, the women, who had been silent, broke out into laments. As though seconding them, there were heard just such laments at the other end of the street. Alpdtych and the coachman with trembling hands arranged the tangled reins and traces under the penthouse.

As Alpatych drove out of the gate, he saw some ten soldiers in Ferapdntov’s open shop, filling their bags and knapsacks with wheat flour and sunflower seeds. Just then Ferapdntov returned from the street to his shop. When he saw the soldiers, he wanted to shout something, but suddenly stopped and, clasping his hair, burst out into groaning laughter.

” Pull it out, boys ! Don’t let the devils have it,” he shouted, himself taking hold of the bags and throwing them out into the street.

Several soldiers became frightened and ran away, while others continued to fill their bags. Upon seeing Alpatych, Ferapdntov turned to him.

“ Russia’s fate is decided ! ” he cried. ” Alpatych, it is decided! I will myself set fire to everything. It is decided.’’ Ferapontov ran into the yard.

Soldiers kept passing through the street and blocking it, so that Alpatych had to wait. Ferapontov’s wife with the children was also sitting in a cart waiting for a chance to move.

It was night now. There were stars in the sky, and occasionally the smoke-shrouded young moon could be seen. On the slope toward the Dnieper, the vehicles of Alpdtych and of Ferapdntov’s wife, which had been moving slowly amidst a mass of soldiers and other carriages, were compelled to stop. Not far from the crossway, where the wagons had stopped, a house and shops were burning in a side street. The fire was burning low. The flame now died down and was lost in the black smoke, and now suddenly flamed up luridly, with wonderful clearness illuminating the people who were crowding at the crossway. Near the burning buildings there moved black figures of men, and, through the incessant crackle of the fire, could be heard conversation and shouts. Alpdtych climbed down from his carriage, seeing that it would be quite awhile before his vehicle could advance, and turned into the side street to look at the fire. The soldiers kept surging to and fro past the burning buildings, and Alpdtych saw two soldiers, and with them a man in a frieze overcoat, who were dragging burning logs across the street, into a neighbouring yard ; others were carrying bundles of hay.

Alpdtych walked over to a large crowd of people, who were standing in front of a tall granary which was burning with a bright flame. The walls were all on fire ; the wall in the rear had fallen in, the shingle roof was broken, the beams were aflame. The crowd was evidently waiting to see the roof cave in. Alpatych, too, was waiting for that moment.

” Alpdtych ! ” the old man suddenly heard somebody’s familiar voice.

” 0 Lord, your Serenity ! ” replied Alpatych, who immediately recognized the voice of the young prince.

Prince Andréy, in an overcoat, sitting on a black horse, was among the crowd. He looked at Alpdtych.

” What are you doing here ? ” he asked.

“Your — your Serenity,” Alpdtych muttered, and burst out into tears. “Your — your — are we lost? Your father — ”

” How did you get here ? ” Prince Andréy asked him again.

At that moment a flame burst up and lighted up the pale and emaciated face of Alpätych’s young master. Alpätych told him how he had been sent there, and bow he had great difficulty in getting away.

“Your Serenity, are we lost?” he asked again.

Prince Andréy made no reply, but took out a memorandum-book, and, bending his knee upward, began to write with a pencil on a sheet torn out from it. He wrote to his sister :

” Smolensk is being surrendered. Lÿsyya Gory will be occupied in a week. Go at once to Moscow. Answer me the moment you leave, by sending a courier to me in Usvydzh.”

Having written this, he handed it to Alpätych and gave him verbal instructions how to manage the departure of the prince, the princess, and the son with his tutor, and how and where he was to be informed at once of what was taking place. He had not finished giving these orders, when a mounted chief of the staff, accompanied by his suite, galloped up toward him.

” You are a colonel ? ” the chief of the staff cried, with a German accent, in a voice which was familiar to Prince Andréy.

” Houses are being set on fire in your presence, and you do nothing. What does that mean ? You will be responsible,” shouted Berg, who now was assistant chief of staff of the assistant chief of staff of the chief of the left flank of the infantry of the first army, — a very agreeable and distinguished place, as Berg said.

Prince Andréy looked at him and, without answering him, kept talking to Alpätych :

“Tell them that I am waiting for an answer by the 10th, and if by that time I do not get news that they have left, I shall be compelled to throw up everything and go to Lÿsyya Géry.”

“ Prince, I am saying this,” said Berg, when he recognized Prince Andréy, “because I have to carry out orders, because I always execute promptly— Please, excuse me,” Berg began to justify himself.

Something crackled in the fire. The fire died down for a moment; black columns of smoke burst forth from underneath the roof. Something crashed terribly in the fire, and something immense came down with a great noise.

” Urrruru ! ” roared the crowd, in keeping with the crashing ceiling of the granary, from which proceeded the odour of burnt grain. The flame burst forth and illuminated the animated and weary faces of the people who were standing near the fire.

The man in the frieze overcoat raised his hands and called out :

” It is fine, boys ! See her go up ! Boys, it is fine ! ”

“ That is the proprietor himself,” some one said.

“ Well, then,” said Prince Andréy, turning to Alpätych, “ transmit everything that I have told you,” and, without replying a word to Berg, who stood near him in silence, he touched his horse and rode off into the side street.

V.

The army continued to retreat from Smolensk. The enemy followed in its tracks. On the 10th of August the regiment commanded by Prince Andréy passed along the highway, past the avenue that led to Lysyya Gory. The weather had been hot and dry for the last three weeks. Fleecy clouds had been scudding every day across the sky, occasionally shrouding the sun ; but toward evening it cleared up again, and the sun went down in a brownish red mist. Nothing refreshed the earth but a heavy dew each night. The grain on the stalk was burnt and fell out. The swamps were dried up. The cattle bellowed from hunger, being unable to find food on the sunburnt meadows. Only at night and in the forests was there any freshness, and then only as long as there was any dew. But on the road, on the highway, over which the troops marched, there was no coolness even at night, and even in the forests. The dew could not be noticed on the sandy dust of the road, which was turned up to the depth of more than half a foot. The moment day broke, the troops began to move. The baggagetrain and the artillery proceeded noiselessly up to the hub, and the infantry up to the ankle, in the soft, strangling, hot dust, which had not cooled off through the night. One part of this sand dust was kneaded by the feet and wheels, while another rose in the air and stood in a cloud above the army, getting into the eyes, the hair, the ears, the nostrils, and, above all, into the lungs of the men and the animals that were moving along this road. The higher the sun rose, the higher rose the cloud of dust, and through this fine, hot dust it was possible to look at the unclouded sun with the naked eye. The sun appeared as a large purple disk. There was no wind, and people choked in this motionless atmosphere. They marched with their noses and mouths tied up in handkerchiefs. Upon arriving in a village, they all rushed to the wells. There were fights for the water, and the wells were emptied to the mud.

Prince Andrey commanded a regiment, and the management of the regiment, the well-being of his men, the necessity of receiving and giving commands interested him. The conflagration of Smolensk and its abandonment were an epoch for Prince Andrey. A new feeling of fury against the enemy made him forget his own sorrow. He was entirely devoted to the business of his regiment ; he was solicitous about his soldiers and officers, and kind to them. In the regiment he was called ” our prince,” and the men were proud of him and loved him. But he was good and gentle only with the men of the regiment, with Timokhin and the like, with entirely new men in unfamiliar surroundings, with men who could not know or understand his past. The moment he came in contact with some of his former associates, on the staff, he immediately bristled up : he became malicious, sarcastic, and disdainful. Everything that connected him with his memories of the past repelled him, and all he tried to do in his relations with that former world was not to be unjust and to do his duty.

It is true, everything presented itself to Prince Andréy in a dark, gloomy light, especially after the abandonment of Smolénsk (w’hich according to his conception could and should have been defended) on August 6th, and when his feeble father had to flee to Moscow and leave his favourite Lÿsyya Géry, which he had built up and settled, a prey to .the enemy ; but, despite all this, Prince Andréy, thanks to his regiment, could think of something different, of a subject which was quite independent from general questions,— of his regiment. On August 10th the column, in which was his regiment, came in a line with Lysyya Gory. Prince Andréy had two days before received the news that his father, his son, and his sister had left for Moscow. Although Prince Andréy had nothing to do at Lÿsyya Gory, he, with his customary desire to open up his wound, decided to ride down to Lÿsyya Gory.

He ordered a horse saddled, and from the halting-place rode to his paternal village, where he had been born, and where he had passed his childhood. As he rode by the pond, where dozens of women, talking, used to strike the clothes with beetles and rinse them in the water, Prince Andréy noticed that there was nobody near the pond, and that the small ferry was half submerged in the water and swimming sidewise in the middle of the pond. Prince Andréy rode up to the lodge. There was no one at the stone gate, and the door was open. The paths in the garden were already overgrown, and the calves and horses were walking through the English park. Prince Andréy rode up to the hothouse. The windows were broken, and a few of the trees in the vats were turned down, while others were all dried up. He called gardener Taras, — no one replied. Riding around the show-glasses of the hothouse, he saw that the carved fence was all broken, and the plums were all taken down and the branches with them. An old peasant (Prince Andréy had seen him at the gate in his childhood) was sitting on a green bench and weaving a bast shoe.

He was deaf and did not hear Prince Andréy as he rode up. He was sitting on the bench on which the old prince used to be fond of sitting, and near him the bast was hanging on the branches of a broken and withered magnolia.

Prince Andréy rode up to the house. Several lindens in the old garden were cut down, and a piebald mare with her colt was walking about the rose-bushes, in front of the house. The windows of the house were all closed by shutters. One window in the lower story was open. A manorial boy, upon noticing Prince Andréy, ran into the house ; Alpdtych had sent his family away, and was the only one who was left in Lysyya Gdry ; he was sitting at home and reading the ” Lives of the Saints.” Upon hearing of the arrival of Prince Andréy, he, with his spectacles on his nose, came out of the house, buttoning his coat, and hurriedly walked over to the prince. He burst out weeping, without saying a word, and kissed Prince Andréy’s knee.

Then he fortified himself and began to report on the state of affairs. Everything valuable and expensive had been taken to Boguchärovo. The grain, about one hundred chétverts,1 had also been taken away ; the grass and the spring grain which had promised an unusual harvest, Alpdtych said, had been mowed down green by the troops. The peasants were ruined ; some of them had gone to Bogucharovo, while a few remained.

Without waiting to hear the end of the report, Prince Andréy asked :

” When did my father and sister leave ? ” meaning when did they leave for Moscow. Alpätych, thinking that he was asked when they had left for Boguchärovo, said that they went on the 7th, and again started to detail farm matters, and asked for orders.

“ Do you command me to deliver the oats to the troops in return for a receipt ? We have about six thousand chétverts left,” said Alpdtych.

” What shall I answer him ? ” thought Prince Andréy, looking at the bald head of the old man, glistening in the sun, and reading in the expression of his face the consciousness of how unseasonable his questions were, and

1A chétvert is equal to about six bushels.

that he was asking the questions merely to drown his own grief.

” Yes,” he said.

” If you have noticed the disorder in the garden,” said Alpatych, “ I must say that it was impossible to avoid it : three regiments passed and stayed here overnight, most of them dragoons. I took down the rank and name of the commander, so as to enter a complaint.”

” What are you going to do ? Shall you remain here, when the enemy occupies it ? ” Prince Andréy asked him.

Alpatych turned his face toward Prince Andréy and looked at him. Suddenly he raised his hands with a solemn motion.

« He is my protector, — His will be done ! ” he said.

A number of peasants and manorial servants were walking over the meadow, approaching Prince Andréy with bared heads.

“ Well, good-bye ! ” said Prince Andréy, bending down to Alpatych. ” Leave this place ! Take along what you can, and tell the people to go to the Ryazan or Moscow suburban estate.”

Alpatych pressed close to his side and began to sob.

Prince Andréy pushed him gently aside and, touching his horse, rode at a gallop down the avenue.

In the park, the old man was still sitting as listlessly as before, like a fly on the face of the beloved dead, and tapping on the last of the bast shoe. Two girls, with plums in their laps, picked from the trees of the hothouse, rushed out from there and ran into Prince Andréy. Upon noticing the young master, the elder girl, with an expression of terror in her face, caught hold of the hand of her younger companion, and concealed herself with her behind a birch-tree, without getting time to pick up the scattered green plums.

Prince Andréy hurriedly turned away from them, fearing lest they might have noticed that he had seen them. He felt sorry for this pretty, frightened little girl. He was afraid to look at her, and yet he was anxious to. A new, joyful, soothing sensation took possession of him, as he, looking at these girls, understood the existence of other, quite unfamiliar, and just as legitimate human interests as were those which occupied him. These girls were apparently bent on carrying oft’ and eating up these green plums, and all they wished was not to be caught, and Prince Andréy sympathized with them and wished them only success. He could not keep from looking at them once more. When they considered themselves out of danger, they leaped out from their ambush, and, squeaking with their thin voices and holding up their skirts, were running merrily and rapidly over the grass of the meadow with their sunburnt, bare little feet.

Prince Andréy was a little refreshed from having ridden away from the region of the dust of the highway, on which the troops were moving. But, not far from Lÿsyya Géry he again struck the road and caught up with his regiment at its halting-place near the dam of a small pond. It was two o’clock in the afternoon. The sun, a red dust-covered disk, mercilessly burnt his back through his black coat. The dust stood just as motionless over the dinning, babbling, resting troops. There was no breeze. As Prince Andréy rode over the dam, the odour of ooze and of the freshness of the pond was wafted to him. He felt like leaping into the water, no matter how dirty it was. He looked at the pond, from which were borne shouts and laughter. The small, turbid, scum-covered pond had risen considerably, flooding the dam, for it was full of the white, naked, swarming bodies of the soldiers, with their brick-red hands, faces, and necks. All this naked, white human flesh, laughing and shouting, was swarming in this dirty pool, like crucians crowded in a pail. There was merriment in this swarming, and therefore it was particularly sad.

One young, blond soldier, — Prince Andréy knew him, — of the third company, with a leather band under his calf, stepped back and made the sign of the cross, preparatory to plunging into the water ; another, a swarthy, perpetually dishevelled under-officer, standing up to his waist in the water and jerking his muscular frame, was snorting with pleasure, as he was throwing water over his head with his hands, that were black up to his wrists. One could hear the sounds of dousing, splashing, and whooping.

On the banks, on the dam, in the pond, — everywhere was there the white, sound, muscular flesh. Officer Timdkhin, with the little red nose, was drying himself with a towel on the dam. He felt embarrassed, as he saw the prince, but nevertheless had the courage to address him :

” It is fine, your Serenity ! You ought to try it ! “

” It is dirty,” said Prince Andréy, frowning.

” We will clean it up for you.”

And Timokhin, still undressed, ran to clean it up.

” The prince wants to take a dip.”

” What prince ? Our prince ? ” said several voices, and then they all raised such a commotion that Prince Andréy had some difficulty in calming them down. He gave as an excuse that he would take a douche in the barn.

” Flesh, bodies, chair à canon ! ” he thought, looking at his own naked body. He shivered, not from the cold, but from an incomprehensible disgust and terror at the sight of this enormous quantity of bodies plashing in the dirty pool.

On August 7th Prince Bagratidn wrote as follows from his halting-place at Mikhaylovka, on the Smolénsk road :

“Dear Sir, Count Aleksyéy Andreevich:’’ — (He was writing to Arakchéev, but he knew that his letter would be read by the emperor, and so he considered every word, as far as he was able to do so.)

« I think the minister has already reported on the abandonment of Smolénsk to the enemy. It is painful and sad, and the whole army is in despair, because a most important place has been uselessly abandoned. I, on my side, begged him personally, in the most persuasive manner, and finally I wrote to him, but nothing could convince him. I swear to you on my honour that Napoleon was as much in a bag as ever, and he might have lost half his army, instead of taking Smolénsk. Our troops have been fighting more desperately than ever. With fifteen thousand 1 held in check more than thirty-five thousand, and vanquished them ; but he would not wait even fourteen hours. This is a disgrace and a blot on our army ; and he liimself, it seems to me, ought not to live. If he reports that the loss was great, — it is an untruth ; maybe there were four thousand, not more, but hardly so many ; and if there were ten thousand, what of it ? it is war. But the enemy has lost an immense number.

” What would it have cost him to stay two days longer? They certainly would have marched away themselves, for they had no water for their men or horses. He promised me he would not retreat, and suddenly he sent me his order, which was that he was going to leave in the night. It is impossible to carry on war in such a way, and we can thus soon bring the enemy to Moscow.

” It is rumoured that you are thinking of peace. God forfend that we should make peace ! After all the sacrifices and after such insane retreats to make peace ! You will rouse all Russia against you, and each of us will regard it as a disgrace to wear a uniform. If it has gone so far, it is necessary to fight so long as Russia can, and while the men can stand up.

” One man, and not two, ought to command. Your minister may be a good man in the ministry ; but he is not merely a poor, but a miserable general, and the fate of our country has been entrusted to his hands — I am really losing my mind from vexation ; forgive me for writing so boldly. It is evident that he who advises the emperor to conclude a peace, and to turn over the command of the army to the minister, does not love the emperor and wishes the ruin of all of us. And so I am writing the truth to you : levy the militia, for the minister in the most masterly manner is bringing a guest after him to the capital. Aid-de-camp Wolzogen is under great suspicion in the army. They say that he serves Napoleon more than us, and that he advises the minister in everything. I am not only polite to him, but even obey him as though I were a corporal, though I am older than he. This is painful ; still, as I love my benefactor and Tsar, I obey. But it is a pity for the emperor that he entrusts the glorious army to such men. Consider that in our retreat we have lost more than fifteen thousand men in the hospitals and through fatigue. But if we had advanced against the enemy that would not have happened. Tell me, for the Lord’s sake, what will our Russia, our mother, say, seeing that we are so frightened, and that we are delivering our good and zealous country into the hands of rascals, and inspiring every subject with hatred and humiliation ? Why are we such cowards, and of whom are we afraid ? It is not my fault that the minister is undecided, a coward, senseless, dilatory, and has all the bad qualities. The whole army weeps dreadfully, and curses him unto death.”

VI.

Among the endless subdivisions, of which the phenomena of life are capable, there is one possible into such in which the contents prevail, and into such in which the form prevails. Among the latter, in contradistinction to the life of the village, the province, the provincial capital, even Moscow, may be classed the life of St. Petersburg, especially of its salons. This life is unchangeable. Since 1805, we had been concluding peace with Bonaparte, and quarrelling with him, we had been making constitutions and working them out, but the salons of Anna Pâvlovna and of Hélène were the same that the first had been seven years, and the other five years before. At Anna Pavlovna’s they spoke with the same perplexity of the successes of Bonaparte, and saw in his successes, as well as in the submission of the European sovereigns to him, a malicious plot, the only aim of which was to cause unpleasantness and unrest to that court circle, of which Anna Pavlovna was a representative. Just so at the salon of Hélène, whom Rumyantsev himself honoured with his visits, and whom he regarded as a remarkably clever woman, they talked with enthusiasm in 1812, as they had in 1808, about the great nation and the great man, and looked with pity upon the rupture with France, which, in the opinion of the people congregating in Hélène’s salon, would certainly end in a peace.

Of late, after the emperor’s return from the army, a little stir had been produced in these opposite salons, and certain demonstrations took place in them against each other, but their tendencies remained the same. In the circle of Anna Pavlovna were accepted only such of the French as were uncompromising legitimists, and the patriotic idea found its expression in the statements that it was not right to frequent the French theatre, and that the maintenance of the troupe cost as much as the maintenance of a whole corps. They followed the military events eagerly, and spread such rumours as were most advantageous to our army. In the French circle of Hélène, of Rumydntsev, they denied the rumours about the cruelty of the enemy and of the war, and discussed all Napoleon’s attempts to conclude a peace. In tins coterie they rebuked those who advised hurried preparations for transferring to Kazän the court and the schools for girls that were under the auspices of the empress dowager. In general, the whole matter of the war was presented in Hélène’s salon as empty demonstrations, which would soon end in peace, and there prevailed the opinion of Bilibin, who now at St. Petersburg was an intimate of Hélène’s house (every clever man had to be there), and who asserted that not the powder, but those who had invented it, would decide the affair. In this circle they discussed ironically and cleverly, though very cautiously, the Muscovite enthusiasm, the news of which reached St. Petersburg at the same time as the emperor.

In Anna Pavlovna’s circle, on the contrary, they went into ecstasies over this enthusiasm, and spoke of it as Plutarch spoke of the ancients. Prince Vasili, who still occupied the same important offices, formed the link between these two coteries. He called on ” Ma bonne amie” Anna Pdvlovna, and ” dans le salon diplomatique de ma fille” and frequently, on account of his constant migrations from the one camp to the other, became mixed up, and said at Hélène’s what he ought to have said at Anna Pavlovna’s and vice versa.

Soon after the emperor’s arrival, Prince Vasili began to elaborate on the war, sharply censuring Barclay de Tolly, and being undecided who ought to be appointed as command er-in-chief. One of the guests, known under the name of ” un homme de beaucoup de mérite,” said that on that day he had seen Kutuzov, who had been appointed chief of the St. Petersburg militia to preside at the treasury during the enlistment of the soldiers, and he took the liberty of cautiously expressing his assumption that Kutuzov would be the very man who would satisfy all the demands.

Anna Pavlovna smiled a sad smile and remarked that Kutuzov never did anything but cause the emperor annoyances.

” I talked and talked in the meeting of the nobility,” Prince Vasili interrupted her, ” but they paid no attention to me. I told them that his selection as chief of militia would not please the emperor. They paid no attention to me. It is nothing but a mania,” he continued. ” And before whom ? We do this simply because we want to ape the stupid transports of Moscow,” said Prince Vasili, getting for a moment mixed up, and forgetting that at Hélène’s it was necessary to make light of the Muscovite enthusiasm, while at Anna Pavlovna’s it was proper to admire it. But he at once corrected himself. “ Is it right for Count Kutuzov, the oldest general in Russia, to preside at the treasury ? Et il en restera pour sa peine ! Is it possible to appoint as commanderin-chief a man who cannot mount a horse, who falls asleep at the council, a man of the very worst of habits ? He has shown himself in a fine light at Bucharest ! I leave out of consideration his qualities as a general, but how can one at such a moment appoint a decrepit, yes, a blind man, neither more nor less ? A fine general a blind man will be ! He does not see a thing. He is so blind you may play blind man’s buff with him ! “

No one made any reply to this.

On June 24th this was quite true ; but on July 29th Kutuzov was made a prince. His princely dignity could have meant that they wished to be rid of him, and therefore Prince Vasili’s judgment continued to be correct, though he did not hasten now to express his views. But on August 8th a committee, composed of Field-Marshal General Saltykov, Arakchéev, Vyazmitinov, Lopukhin, and Kochubéy, met to deliberate on the affairs of the war. The committee decided that the failures were due to the multiplicity of commands, and, although the persons composing the committee knew that Kutuzov was in disfavour with the emperor, they, after a short consultation, proposed to appoint Kutuzov as commanderin-chief of the armies and of all the territory occupied by the troops.

On August 9th Prince Vasili again met ” l’homme de beaucoup de mérite ” at Anna Pavlovna’s. ” L’homme de beaucoup de mérite” was very attentive to Anna Pävlovna, being desirous of an appointment as curator of a school for girls. Prince Vasili entered the room with the expression of a lucky victor, of a man who has obtained the ends of his wishes.

” Eh bien, vous savez le grande nouvelle. Le Prince Koutouzoff est maréchal. All the dissensions are ended. I am so happy, so glad ! Enfin voilà un homme’,’ he said, significantly, and casting a stem glance at all those who were present in the drawingroom.

” L’homme de beaucoup de mérite’,’ in spite of his desire to get the place, could not keep from reminding Prince Vasili of his former judgment. (This was not polite to Prince Vasili in Anna Pavlovna’s drawingroom, and to Anna Pdvlovna, who herself had received the news with joy ; still, he could not restrain himself.)

” Mais on dit qu’il est aveugle, mon prince ? ” he said, reminding Prince Vasili of his own words.

” Allez donc, il y voit assez,” Prince Vasili said, in his deep and rapid voice, with a clearing of his throat, with which he decided all diiiicult questions. ” Allez, il y voit assez,” he repeated. ” What gives me especial pleasure,” he continued, ” is that the emperor has given him full power over all the armies, over the whole country, — a power which no commanderin-chief before him has had. He is another autocrat,” he concluded, with a victorious smile.

” God grant it, God grant it ! ” said Anna Pavlovna.

“ L’homme de beaucoup de mérite,” still a novice in court society, wished to flatter Anna Pdvlovna by reconciling her former opinion and this present statement, and so he said :

“ They say that the emperor gave this power to Kutuzov reluctantly. On dit qu’il a rougit comme une demoiselle à laquelle on lirait Jocondc, en lui disant : ‘ Le souverain et la patrie vous décernent cet honneur.’ “

” Peut-être que le cœur n’était pas de la partie,” said Anna Pdvlovna.

” Oh, no, no,” Prince Vasili warmly took his part. Now he would not yield Kutuzov to any one. According to his opinion, Kutuzov was not only good, but he was admired by everybody. ” No, that cannot be, because the emperor has known how to value him before,” he said.

” God grant only that Kutuzov,” said Anna Pavlovna, ” may take the real power, and allow nobody to put sticks in the wheels, des bâtons dans les voices.”

Prince Vasili at once saw who was meant by ” nobody.” He said in a whisper :

“ 1 know for sure that Kutuzov has made it a peremptory condition that the heir-apparent shall not be with the army. Vous savez ce qu’il a dit à VEmpereur ? ” And Prince Vasili repeated the words which Kutuzov was said to have used to the emperor, ” I cannot punish him when he does wrong, nor reward him when he does right.” — ” Oh, he is a very clever man, that Prince Kutuzov, je le connais de longue date.”

” They even say,” said ” l’homme de beaucoup de mérite,” who had not yet acquired the tact of a courtier, ” that his Serenity has made it an absolute condition that the emperor himself should not be with the army.”

The moment he said this, Prince Vasili and Anna Pavlovna in a twinkle turned away from him and looked sadly at each other, with a sigh at his naïveté.

VII.

While this was going on in St. Petersburg, the French had already passed through Smolénsk and were getting nearer and nearer to Moscow. Napoleon’s historian, Thiers, like all the other historians, says in defence of his hero that Napoleon was involuntarily attracted to Moscow. He is right, as are all those historians who seek for an explanation of historical events in the will of one man ; he is as right as are the Russian historians who assert that Napoleon was drawn to Moscow by the skill of the Russian generals. In addition to the law of retrospect, which presents the past as a preparation for a given fact, we have here at work mutuality, which mixes up the whole affair. A good player, who has lost at chess, is sincerely convinced that his loss is. due to his blunder, and he looks for that blunder in the beginning of his game, forgetting that in every move of his, during the course of the whole game, there were just such mistakes and that not one of his moves has been faultless. The mistake, to which his attention is drawn, is noticeable to him only because his antagonist has profited by it. How much more complicated is the game of war, which takes place under certain conditions of time, where it is not a question of guiding lifeless machines by the will of one person, but where everything flows from an endless number of conflicts among various arbitrary wills !

After Smolénsk Napoleon sought a battle beyond Doro-gobuzh, at the Vydzma, then at Tsdrevo-Zaymfshche ;

but, by an endless number of circumstances, the Russians were unable to accept it before Borodino within 112 versts of Moscow.

At the Vyazma Napoleon gave his orders to move directly upon Moscow. ” Moscou, la capitale asiatique de ce grand empire, la ville sacrée des peuples d’Alexandre, Moscou avec ses innombrables églises en formes de pagodes chinoises,” this Moscou gave no rest to Napoleon’s imagination. On the march from the Vyazma to Tsärevo-Zaynnshche, Napoleon rode on horseback on his cream-coloured, bob-tailed trotter, accompanied by the Guard, the pages, and the adjutants. The chief of the staff, Berthier, was left behind in order to put questions to a Russian captive taken by the cavalry. Accompanied by Lelorme d’ldeville, the interpreter, he galloped and caught up with Napoleon and with a cheerful face stopped his horse.

” Eh bien ? ” said Napoleon.

” Un cosaque de Platov says that Platov’s corps is uniting with the large army and that Kutuzov has been appointed commanderin-chief. Très intelligent et bavardy

Napoleon smiled and ordered that this Cossack be given a horse and brought into his presence. He wished himself to talk with him. A few adjutants galloped away, and an hour later, Denisov’s servant, who had been turned over to Rostov, Lavrushka, in his orderly’s blouse, astride on a French cavalry saddle, with a roguish, drunken, and merry face, rode up to Napoleon. Napoleon ordered him to ride by his side, and began to ask him :

” Are you a Cossack ? ”

” A Cossack, your Honour.”

” The Cossack, ignorant of the company in which he was, for Napoleon’s simplicity had nothing about it which might reveal the presence of a sovereign to an Oriental imagination, conversed with the greatest familiarity on the affairs of the present war,” says Thiers, in relating this incident. In reality, Lavrushka, who on the day before had been intoxicated and had left his master without a dinner, had been flogged and sent to a village for chickens, but had given himself up to marauding, and was taken prisoner by the French. Lavrushka was one of those coarse, impudent lackeys, who have had all kinds of experiences, who regard it as their duty to do everything basely and slyly, who are ready to do any kind of service to their master, and who cunningly divine their master’s bad thoughts, especially their vanity and pettiness.

Having fallen into the company of Napoleon, whose personality he knew well and recognized at once, Lavrushka was not in the least embarrassed, and only tried to do a good turn to his new masters.

He knew full well that it was Napoleon himself, and Napoleon’s presence could not embarrass him any more than that of Rostdv, or of the sergeant-major with the rods, because he had nothing of which either the sergeant-major or Napoleon could deprive him.

He told Napoleon everything that was being talked about among the orderlies. Much of it was true. But when Napoleon asked him what the Russians thought, whether they would vanquish Bonaparte, or not, Lavrushka halfshut his eyes and became pensive.

He saw some cunning in this question, just as people of Lavrushka’s type always see cunning in everything, and so he frowned and grew silent.

” It is like this : if there is to be a battle,” he said, thoughtfully, ” and soon, — you will win. That’s right. But if three days pass, or more, then it means that the battle will be delayed.”

This was translated to Napoleon as follows :

” Si la bataille est donnée avant trois jours, les Français la gagnerait, mais que si elle serait donnée plus tard, Dieu

sait ce qui en arriverait,” Lelorme d’Ideville translated with a smile.

Napoleon did not smile, though he was apparently in the best frame of mind, and had these words repeated to him.

Lavrushka noticed this, and, to make him merry, pretended not to know who he was.

” We know that you have Bonaparte, — he has beaten eveiybody in the world, but with us it will be a different matter,” he said, himself not knowing why or how the boastful patriotism had found its way into his words. The translator interpreted these words to Napoleon without the ending, and Bonaparte smiled. ” Le jeune cosaque fit sourire son puissant interlocuteur,” says Thiers. After riding a few steps in silence, Napoleon turned to Berthier and told him that he wanted to see what effect would be produced ” sur cct enfant du Don ” by the news that the man with whom this “enfant du Don” was talking was the emperor himself, the same emperor who had written his immortal, victorious name on the pyramids.

This information was transmitted.

Lavrushka (seeing that this was done in order to startle him, and that Napoleon thought that he would get frightened), in order to please his new masters, immediately pretended to be surprised and stunned, and let his eyes bulge out, and looked as though he were being taken to be flogged.

” Napoleon’s interpreter had barely finished,” says Thiers, ” when the Cossack, seized by blank amazement, did not speak another word, and marched with his eyes riveted on this conqueror, whose name had penetrated to him across the steppes of the Orient. All his loquacity suddenly disappeared, to make place for a sentiment of naïve and taciturn admiration. Having rewarded him, Napoleon set him free, like a bird which is returned to its native fields.”

Napoleon rode on, dreaming of that Moscou, which so occupied his imagination, while « the bird returned to its native field ” galloped back to the outposts, preparing in advance a story to tell his people of everything that had not happened. But what had really taken place he did not wish to tell, for the reason that it did not seem to him worthy of being told. He rode out to the Cossacks, asked them where the regiment was, which was part of Platov’s detachment, and toward evening found his master, Nikolay Rostov, who was stationed at Yänkovo, and who was on the point of mounting his horse, in order to take a pleasure ride with Ilin to the neighbouring villages. He gave Lavrushka another horse and took him along with him.

VIII.

Princess Marya was in Moscow and out of danger,— so Prince Andréy thought.

After Alpdtych had returned from Smolénsk, the old prince suddenly seemed to regain his senses. He ordered the militia called from the villages, armed them, and wrote the commanderin-chief a letter, in which he informed him of his firm intention of remaining at Lÿsyya G6ry to the last extremity and of defending himself, leaving it to his consideration whether measures should be taken or not to defend Lÿsyya G6ry, where one of the oldest Piussian generals would be taken prisoner or killed. He also informed his household that he would stay at Lÿsyya G6ry.

While remaining himself, the prince gave orders to have the princess and Desalles, with the young prince, sent to Boguchdrovo, and thence to Moscow. Princess Märya, frightened by the feverish, sleepless activity of her father, which took the place of his former negligence, did not have the heart to leave him alone, and for the first time in her life permitted herself not to obey him. She refused to depart, and so a terrible storm of the prince’s fury descended on her head. He brought up against her everything in which he was unjust to her. In his attempt to accuse her, he told her that she had worn him out, that she had caused the discord between him and his son, that she had base suspicions of him, that she regarded it as the problem of her life to poison his existence, and he sent her out of his cabinet, saying that it did not make any difference to him whether she would leave or not. He told her that he did not want to know of her existence, and warned her never to show herself before his eyes.

Princess Mdrya was delighted because, in spite of her fears, he did not send her away by force, but only commanded her not to show herself before his eyes. She knew that it proved that in the secrecy of his heart he was glad that she did not leave, but was going to stay at home.

On the day after the departure of Nikoldy, the old prince in the morning dressed himself in his full uniform and got himself ready to be driven to the commanderin-chief. The carriage was already waiting. Princess Märya saw him leave the house in his uniform and all his decorations, and go into the garden to review the armed peasants and manorial servants. Princess Märya was sitting at the window, listening to his voice, which was heard from the garden. Suddenly several people with frightened faces came running out of the avenue.

Princess Märya rushed out on the porch, and down the flower path to the avenue. A large mass of the militia and the manorials was moving toward her, and in the middle of this throng several men were holding up and dragging along the old man in his uniform and decorations. Princess Märya ran up to them, and, in the play of light which fell in small circles through the shade of the linden avenue, she could not account to herself for the change which had taken place in his countenance. What she did see was that the former stern and determined expression of his face had given way to one of timidity and submissiveness. Upon seeing his daughter, he moved his impotent lips and uttered a râle. It was impossible to understand what it was he wanted. He was raised on the men’s arms and carried to his cabinet, where he was placed on the sofa of which he had of late been so afraid.

The doctor, who was called, bled him that same night, and announced that the prince had a stroke of paralysis in his left side. It became more and more dangerous to remain in Lysyya Gory, and on the day following the stroke the prince was taken to Bogucharovo. The doctor went with him. When they arrived at Bogucharovo, Desalles and the young prince had already left for Moscow.

The old man, disabled by the paralysis, getting neither better nor worse, remained for three weeks in the same state, in the new house which Prince Andrey had built at Bogucharovo. He was out of his mind; he looked like a disfigured corpse. He kept muttering something, with a jerking motion of his brows and lips, and it was not possible to make out whether he comprehended what surrounded him, or not. One thing was sure, namely, that he suffered, and that he felt the necessity of saying something. But what it was, nobody could tell : whether it was some caprice of the infirm and halfdemented man, whether it referred to the general course of affairs, or whether it had anything to do with family matters.

The doctor said that the restlessness which he showed was of no consequence, that it had only a physical significance ; but Princess Marya thought (and the fact that her presence always increased his restlessness only confirmed her in her supposition) that he wished to tell her something.

He was evidently suffering, both physically and morally. There was no hope for his recovery. It was impossible to have him taken elsewhere. And what if he should die on his way ? ” Would not the end, absolutely the end, be best ? ” Princess Marya sometimes thought. She watched him day and night, almost without sleeping, and, though it is terrible to say so, she frequently watched him not with the desire of discovering symptoms of improvement, but with the wish of discovering symptoms of the approaching end.

However strange it was for the princess to confess to herself this feeling, it was nevertheless in her. But what was more terrible still for Princess Mdrya was that since her father’s illness (if not earlier, when, expecting something to happen, she had made up her mind to stay with him) there had awakened in her all her dormant and forgotten personal wishes and hopes. That which had not occurred to her for years, — thoughts of a free life without the fear of her father, even thoughts of the possibility of love and domestic happiness, constantly hovered in her imagination like the temptations of the devil. Though she warded them off, she was continually assailed by the questions of how she would now, after this, arrange her life. These were the temptations of the devil, and she knew it. She knew that prayers were the only weapon against him, and she tried to pray. She stood in the attitude of prayer, looked at the images, pronounced the words of prayer, but was not able to pray. She felt that she was now moving in another world of a difficult and free activity of life, winch was quite different from that moral world, in which she had been enclosed before, and in which prayers had been her best consolation. She could not pray or weep, and was oppressed by the cares of life.

It grew dangerous to remain longer at Bogucharovo. On all sides rumours were abroad about the approaching French, and in one village, within fifteen versts of Boguchdrovo, an estate had been pillaged by French marauders.

The doctor insisted that the prince ought to be taken away; the marshal of the nobility sent an official to Princess Mdrya, to persuade her to leave as soon as possible ; the chief of the rural police arrived at Boguchdrovo and gave her the same advice, saying that the French were within forty versts, that French proclamations were being distributed in the villages, and that if the princess did not leave with her father by the 15th, he would not be responsible for anything.

On the 15th the princess decided to leave. The cares of the preparation, the giving of orders, for which all turned to her, took up her whole day. The night from the 14th to the 15th she passed, as usual, without undressing herself, in the room adjoining the one in which the prince was lying. She awoke several times and heard his groaning and mumbling, the creaking of his bed, and the steps of Tikhon and the doctor, who turned him over. She listened several times at the door, and it seemed to her that he was mumbling louder than ever, and that he had been turned over oftener than usual. She could not sleep and several times went up to the door, listening, on the point of entering, and still unable to make up her mind. Though he could not speak, Princess Märya saw and knew that every expression of anxiety about him was disagreeable to him. She had noticed that he turned away dissatisfied from her glance, which now and then was instinctively and stubbornly directed at him. She knew that her appearance at night, at an unusual hour, would only excite him.

Never before had she been so sorry for him, and never had she felt so terribly about losing him. She recalled her whole life with him, and in every word and action of his she discovered an expression of his love for her. Now and then, amidst these recollections, there broke into her imagination the temptations of the devil, — the thoughts of what would be after his death, and how her new, free life would arrange itself. P>ut she repelled these thoughts in horror. Toward morning he grew quieter, and she fell asleep.

She awoke late. That sincerity of thought which one has at waking showed her clearly what it was in the illness of her father which interested her most. She awoke, listened to what was taking place behind the door, and, hearing his groans, said to herself with a sigh that it was still the same.

“What is it that I want? I want his death,” she exclaimed in horror to herself.

She dressed herself, washed herself, prayed, and went out on the porch. At the porch stood the unhitched carriages, into which things were being put away. It was warm and cloudy. Princess Märya stopped awhile on the porch, still horrified at the baseness of her soul and trying to arrange her thoughts before going in to see him.

The doctor came down the stairs and walked over to her.

” He feels better to-day,” said the doctor. ” I have been looking for you. It is possible to make out a few words of what he says, — his head is clearer. Come ! He is calling you — “

Princess Märya’s heart beat so strongly at this bit of news that she grew pale and had to lean against the doorpost in order not to fall down. To see him, to speak with him, to fall under his glance now that the soul of Princess Märya was brimful of terrible criminal temptations, was both painfully agreeable and terrible for her.

” Come ! ” said the doctor.

Princess Marya went to her father and walked over to his bed. He lay high on his back, with his small, bony hands, with their lilac-coloured knotty veins, on the coverlet, with his left eye looking straight and his right eye turned awry, and with motionless eyebrows and lips. He was all so lean, so small, and so pitiable ! His face looked dried up or melted, and its features were all diminished. Princess Märya walked over to him and kissed his hand. His left hand pressed hers in such a way that it was evident he had long been waiting for her. He jerked her hand, and his brows and lips moved angrily.

She looked at him in fright, trying to guess what it was he wanted of her. When she changed her position and moved up to him in such a way that his left eye could see her face, he became calmer and for a few seconds did not take his eye off her. Then his lips and tongue began to move, sounds were heard, and he began to speak, looking timidly and imploringly at her, apparently being afraid that he would not be understood by her.

Princess Marya strained all her powers of attention as she looked at him. The comical labour with which he turned his tongue caused Princess Märya to lower her eyes and with difficulty to repress her tears which rose with a lump in her throat. He said something, several times repeating his words. Princess Marya could not understand them ; but she endeavoured to divine what he was saying, and inquiringly repeated his words.

The doctor thought that he could make out his words, and so he asked: “Is the princess afraid?” He shook his head negatively and again repeated his incomprehensible syllables.

“ I have a pain in my heart,” was what Princess Marya guessed it to be, and she repeated these words.

He gave an affirmative grunt, took her hand, and began to press it to the different parts of his breast, as though trying to find the proper place for it.

” Thoughts and thoughts ! About you — ” he then said better and more distinctly than before, when he was satisfied that he was understood. Princess Marya pressed her head against his hand, trying to conceal her sobs and tears.

He moved his hand over her hair.

” I have been calling you all night — ” he said.

“ If I had only known — ” she said through tears. ” I was afraid to come in.”

He pressed her hand.

” Did you not sleep ? “

” No, I did not,” said Princess Märya, with a negative shake of her head. Instinctively submitting to her father, she now tried to speak, like him, in signs, rather than words, and it seemed to her that she could not well move her tongue.

“ Darling,” or “ my friend,” Princess Märya could not make out what he was saying ; but it was evident from his glance that he was using a word of endearment such as he had never before employed. “ Why did you not come ? ”

” And I have been wishing for his death ! ” thought Princess Märya. He was silent.

“ Thank you — daughter, friend — for everything, for everything — forgive — thanks — forgive — thank you ! ” And tears began to course down his cheeks. ” Call An-dréy,” he suddenly said, and with this question there came into his face an expression of something childishly timid and incredulous. He seemed to know himself that this request had no meaning. At least, Princess Märya thought so.

” I have had a letter from him,” replied Princess Märya.

He looked at her timidly in surprise.

” Where is he ? ”

“ He is with the army, mon père, at Smolénsk.”

He shut his eyes and was silent for a long time ; then he nodded affirmatively, as though in reply to his doubts and in confirmation of having understood and recalled everything, and opened bis eyes.

” Yes,” he said, clearly and softly. ” Russia is lost ! They have ruined it ! ” And he again began to sob, and the tears gushed from his eyes. Princess Märya was unable to endure it any longer, and she, too, wept, looking at his face.

He again shut his eyes. His sobs stopped. He pointed toward his eyes with his hand ; Tikhon understood him, and dried them.

Then he opened his eyes and said something which nobody was able for a long time to make out, and which Tikhon finally comprehended and translated. Princess Marya had been trying to explain the meaning of his words from what he had been saying before. She thought that he was speaking of Russia, or of Prince Andrey, or of her, or of his grandchild, or of bis death, and so she could not divine his words, which in reality were, ” Put on your white dress, I love it.”

Having made out these words, Princess Marya sobbed out louder still, and the doctor, taking her arm, led her out of the room on the terrace, asking her to compose herself and to attend to the preparations for the departure. When Princess Marya had left the prince, he once more began to speak of his son, of the war, of the emperor. He angrily twitched his brows, and began to raise his hoarse voice, and had his second and last stroke.

Princess Marya stopped on the terrace. It had cleared up ; the sun shone brightly and warmly. She could not understand, or think, or feel a thing, except her passionate love for her father, — a love which she thought she had not known before.

She ran into the garden and, sobbing, rushed down to the pond, over the paths which had been bordered by Prince Andréy with young linden-trees.

“Yes — I — I — wished for his death ! Yes, I wanted him to die soon — I wanted to regain my composure — What will become of me ? What good will my calm do me when he is no more ? ” Princess Màrya muttered aloud, striding rapidly through the garden and pressing her hands against her breast, from which escaped convulsive sobs. Having made a circle through the garden and arrived again at the house, she saw Mlle. Bourienne (who had remained at Boguchàrovo and did not wish under any consideration to leave it) and an unfamiliar man coming up toward her. This man was the marshal of the county’s nobility, who had come in person to see Princess Märya and to impress on her the necessity of an immediate departure. Princess Marya listened to him, without understanding what he was saying ; she took him to the house, offered him breakfast, and sat down with him. Then, asking him to excuse her, she went up to the door of the old prince. The doctor came out to her with an agitated face, and told her that she could not come in.

” Go, princess, go, go ! “

Princess Marya again went into the garden, where she sat down in the grass at the foot of a hill, near the pond, where she could not be observed. She did not know how long she remained there. The sound of a woman’s feet running down the path brought her to her senses. She rose and saw that Dunyäsha, her chambermaid, who evidently was running to find her, suddenly stopped as though frightened at the sight of her mistress.

“Please, princess — the prince — ” Dunydsha said, in a broken voice.

“ I am coming at once,” the princess hastened to say, giving Dunydsha no time to finish her sentence. She ran to the house, trying not to look at Dunyasha.

“ Princess, the will of God is being done, you must be prepared for every tiring,” said the marshal, meeting her at the door.

” Let me alone, — it is not true,” she cried angrily at him. The doctor wanted to stop her. She pushed him aside and ran to the door. “ Why do these men with the frightened faces stop me ? I need nobody ! And what are they doing here ? ” She opened the door, and the glaring daylight in the room, which had been half-darkened before, frightened her. In the room were women and the nurse. They moved away from the bed, letting her pass. He was lying on the bed as before, but the stern expression of his calm face made Princess Marya stop on the threshold.

“No, he has not died, it cannot be!” said Princess Mârya. She went up to him, and overcoming the terror which had taken possession of her, pressed her Ups against his cheek. But she immediately drew back from him. In a twinkle all the power of tenderness, which she had felt for him, was gone, giving way to a sensation of terror in the presence of that which was before her. “ He is no longer ! He is gone, and here, in the place where he was, there is something strange and hostile, a terrible, horrifying, repulsive mystery ! ” And, covering her face with her hands, Princess Marya fell into the arms of the doctor, who was supporting her.

In the presence of Tikhon and the doctor, the women washed that which had been he, tied a kerchief about his head that the gaping mouth might not become stark, and with another kerchief bound the sprawling legs. Then they dressed him in his uniform with the decorations, and placed the small, shrivelled body on the table. God knows who thought of all this, and when, but everything took place as though it were natural. At night, candles were burning around the coffin ; on the coffin there was a shroud ; juniper twigs were strewn on the floor ; under the shrivelled head of the dead man a printed prayer was placed, and in a corner sat a sexton, reading the Psalter.

Just as horses startle and crowd and snort about a dead horse, so people, both friends and strangers, were crowding in the drawingroom about the coffin : there were the marshal, and the elder, and the women, and all with staring eyes and frightened faces made the sign of the cross and bowed, and kissed the cold, stark hand of the old prince.

IX.

Boguchârovo had always been, previous to Prince Audrey’s settlement there, an absentee estate, and the peasants of Boguchârovo, therefore, had an entirely different character from those at Lysyya G dry. They differed from them in speech, and attire, and manners. They were called steppe peasants. The old prince used to praise them for their patience at work, whenever they came to Lÿsyya Gdry to assist in the harvest, or to dig ponds and ditches, but did not love them because of their wildness.

Prince Andréy’s late stay in Boguchârovo, with his innovations, — hospitals, schools, and diminution of tenant pay, — had not softened their manners, but, on the contrary, had only strengthened those features of their character which the old prince had denominated “wildness.” There were always current among them indistinct rumours about inscribing them all among the Cossacks, or about a new faith to which they would soon be converted, or about some imperial document, or about the oath to Paul Petrdvich in the year 1797 (in regard to which it was said that their freedom was granted even then, but that the masters had taken it away), or about the enthronement of Peter Feddorovich, which would take place seven years hence, when everything would be so free and so simple that there would not be anything. The rumours of the war and of Bonaparte and his invasion were in their minds connected with just such indistinct conceptions about the antichrist, the end of the world, and the ” clean ” freedom.

In the neighbourhood of Boguchârovo there were large villages belonging to the Crown or to landed proprietors with tenant peasants. There were very few proprietors living in that locality : there were also very few manorial servants and literate persons, and so one could observe here better than elsewhere those mysterious streams of Russian popular life, the causes and meaning of which are inexplicable to contemporaries. One of these phenomena was the movement, winch had appeared among the peasants of this locality some twenty years before, to migrate to some warm rivers. Hundreds of peasants, among them some from Bogucharovo, suddenly began to dispose of their cattle and to travel with their families in a southeasterly direction. Just as people migrate across the ocean, so these men, with their wives and children, went there, to the southeast, where none of them had been before. They started in caravans, or bought their emancipation one by one, or ran away there, toward the warm rivers. Many of them were punished and sent to Siberia ; many died on the road of cold and hunger ; many returned themselves, and the movement died out, as it had begun, without any apparent cause. But the undercurrent did not cease flowing among these people and was gathering for a new manifestation, which was to appear just as strangely, unexpectedly, and at the same time just as simply, naturally, and strongly. Then, in the year 1812, it was apparent to a man who lived in close contact with the masses, that this undercurrent was very active and about to break forth into a new manifestation.

Alpatych, who had arrived at Boguchärovo a little while before the demise of the old prince, noticed that the masses were agitated and that, contrary to what was taking place at Lÿsyya Gory and in a radius of sixty versts from it, where the peasants ran away, leaving their villages to be destroyed by the Cossacks, the peasants of the steppes, at Bogucharovo, were said to be in communication with the French, received from them certain documents which were current among them, and remained in their villages. He learned from loyal manorial servants that peasant Karp, who had been driving a government team, and who had a great influence in the meetings of the Commune, had returned with the news that the Cossacks were destroying the villages, from which the villagers departed, while the French did not touch them. He knew also that another peasant had brought the day before from the village of Visloukhov, where the French were stationed, a paper from a French general, in which the inhabitants were informed that no harm would befall them, and that they would be paid for everything taken from them, if they did not run away, but remained. In proof of this, the peasant had brought with him one hundred roubles in assignats (he did not know that they were counterfeit), which he had received in advance for his hay.

Finally, what was more important still, Alpatych knew that on the very morning of the day when he ordered the elder to furnish teams to take the princess’s baggage away from Bogucharovo, there had been a meeting of the Commune, at which it had been decided not to furnish the teams, but to wait. Time, however, was pressing. The marshal insisted, on August 15th, the day of the prince’s death, that Princess Mdrya should leave at once, as it was getting dangerous. He said that after the 16th he would not be responsible for anything. He left on the evening of the prince’s death, but promised to be back the next day, to attend the funeral. But he could not come on the following day, because he had received the information that the French had unexpectedly advanced, and he had only time enough to take his family and his valuables away from his estate.

For thirty years, Bogucharovo had been managed by Dron. Dron was one of those physically and morally sound peasants, who, as soon as they reach manhood, let their beards grow, and live to sixty or seventy years, without a gray hair or the loss of a tooth, and who are as strong at sixty as they were at thirty.

Dron, soon after the migration to the warm rivers, in which movement he had taken part with the rest, was made village mayor, in which dignity he presided without reproach for twenty-three years. The peasants were more afraid of him than of the master. The masters, both the old and the young princes, and the manager respected him and jokingly called him minister. During the whole time of his service, Dron had not once been drunk or ill ; never, neither after sleepless nights, nor after any great labour, did he show the least fatigue, and, though he did not know how to read or write, he never forgot a single sum of money or amount of puds in the enormous loads of grain which he sold, nor a single rick of grain in any desyatma of the Boguchärovo fields.

This same Dron was called up by Alpatych, who had arrived from the ruined Lÿsyya Gdry estate, on the day of the prince’s funeral, and was ordered to furnish twelve horses for the carriages of the princess and eighteen teams for the baggage, which was to be taken away from Boguchärovo. Though the peasants were tenants, this order, in Alpdtych’s opinion, ought to have met with no difficulty, because there were 230 hearths in Boguchärovo, and the peasants were well-to-do. But the elder Dron, having heard the command, lowered his eyes in silence. Alpätych named the peasants whom he knew, and from whom he ordered him to take the teams.

Dron replied that the horses of these peasants were hired out. Alpätych mentioned other peasants. But, according to Dron’s statement, these had no horses, either : some were hauling government goods, others were disabled, while the horses of others again had died from lack of feed. It was Dron’s opinion that it would be impossible to get any horses, either for the baggage or for the carriages.

Alpätych looked attentively at Dron and frowned. Just as Dron was an exemplary elder, so Alpatych had not in vain managed the prince’s estates for twenty years, and was an exemplary manager. He was in the highest degree endowed with a fine sense of discrimination in respect to the needs and instincts of the people with whom he had to deal, and so he was an excellent manager. Looking at Dron, he comprehended at once that Dron’s answers were not the expression of Dron’s thought, but of that general disposition of the Boguchärovo Commune, which had also affected the elder. At the same time he knew that Dron, who had managed to save a small fortune, and who was hated by the Commune, would naturally waver between two camps, — that of the master and of the peasants. He had noticed that wavering in his look, and so Alpatych, frowning, moved up to Dron.

“ Listen, Dron ! ” he said. “ Don’t talk nonsense to me ! His Serenity, Prince Andréy Nikolaevich himself, has ordered me to send all the people away, and not to leave them to the enemy, — and there is an order from the Tsar to this effect. Who remains is a traitor to the Tsar. Do you hear ?”

” I do,” replied Dron, without raising his eyes.

Alpätych was not satisfied with this answer.

” Oh, Dron, it will go badly with you ! ” said Alpatych, shaking his head.

” As you will ‘ ” Dron said, gloomily.

“ Oh, Dron, stop it ! ” Alpatych repeated, taking his hand out of the bosom of his coat, and with a solemn gesture pointing with it to the floor under Dron’s feet. ” I not only see through you, but I can see three arshins down underneath you,” he said, looking at Dron’s feet.

Dron became confused, cast a hurried glance at Alpätych, and again lowered his eyes.

“ Leave that nonsense, and tell the people to leave their homes and go to Moscow, and get the horses by tomorrow for the prince’s caravan, and don’t go yourself to the meeting. Do you hear ? ”

Dron suddenly fell down before his feet.

“ Ydkov Alpatych, deliver me ! Take the keys from me, and for Christ’s sake let me give up my office ! “

” 8top ! ” Alpatych said, sternly. ” I can see three arshins underneath you,” he repeated, knowing full well that his skill in looking after the bees, his knowledge of the proper time to sow the oats, and the fact that for twenty years he had managed to please the old prince, had long ago earned for him the reputation of a wizard, and that wizards were supposed to possess the property of seeing three arshins beneath a man.

Dron got up and wanted to say something, but Alpdtych interrupted him :

” What are you all up to, eh ? What do you mean to do, eh ? “

“What shall I do with the people?” asked Dron. ” They are all stirred up. I have been telling them — “

” Telling them ! ” said Alpdtych. ” Are they drinking ? ” he asked, curtly.

” They are all stirred up, Yakov Alpatych : they have brought the second keg.”

« Listen ! I will go at once to the chief of the rural police, and you inform the people to stop it all and furnish the teams.”

” Yes, sir,” replied Dron.

Yakov Alpatych did not insist any longer.

He had been in contact with the people long enough to know that the chief means of getting them to obey was not to show any suspicion that they would not obey. Having obtained from Dron the humble ” Yes, sir ! ” Ydkov Alpatych was satisfied, though he was not only in doubt, but was almost convinced that the teams would not be furnished without the assistance of a company of soldiers.

Indeed, by evening the teams had not been collected. There was again a meeting at the tavern, and it was decided there to drive the horses into the woods and not to furnish the teams. Without saying anything to the princess, Alpdtych ordered his own baggage taken off from the carts which had arrived with him from Lysyya Gdry and the horses used for the carriages of the princess, while he himself drove away to see the authorities.

X.

After her father’s funeral, Princess Marya locked herself in her room and did not admit any one. A maid went up to her door to say that Alpätych had come to ask her orders in regard to the departure. (This happened before Alpätych’s conversation with Dron.) Princess Marya half-raised herself from the sofa, on which she was lying, and said through the closed door that she would never go anywhere, and asked to be let alone.

The windows of the room in which Princess Marya was lying looked out on the west. She was lying on the sofa with her face to the wall and, fingering the buttons on the leather cushion, saw nothing but this cushion, and her indistinct thoughts were concentrated only on this: she was thinking of the irretrievableness of death and of her own moral baseness, which she had not known before, and which had manifested itself in her during the illness of her father. She wanted to pray, but did not dare to ; she did not dare to turn to God with her soul in that condition, in which it was then. She lay for a long time in that position.

The sun had passed over on the other side of the house and with its slanting evening rays, which fell through the open windows, lighted up the room and part of the morocco cushion on which Princess Marya was looking. The march of her thoughts suddenly stopped. She raised herself unconsciously, fixed her hair, got up, and went to the window, instinctively inhaling the freshness of the clear, breezy evening.

“ Yes, now it is convenient for you to enjoy the evening ! He exists no longer, and nobody will disturb you,” she said to herself, and, dropping down in a chair, she fell with her head on the window-sill.

Somebody called her in a gentle and soft voice from the side of the garden, and kissed her head. She looked up. It was Mlle. Bourienne, in a black dress trimmed for mourning. She softly walked over to Princess Mdrya, kissed her with a sigh, and immediately began to weep. Princess Marya looked at her. She thought of all her former conflicts with her and of her jealousy of her; she also recalled how he had of late changed in respect to Mlle. Bourienne and how he could not bear to see her, and, consequently, how unjust those reproaches had been which Princess Marya had in her heart been making her. ” What right have I, who wished for his death, to sit in judgment over any one ? ” she thought.

Princess Marya vividly imagined the position of Mlle. Bourienne, who of late had been removed from her society, but who at the same time was dependent on her and lived in a strange house. She began to feel sorry for her. She cast an inquiring and tender glance at her and stretched forth her hand. Mlle. Bourienne burst out into tears, kissed the princess’s hand, and began to speak of the sorrow which had befallen the princess, making herself a participant in her grief. She said that her only consolation in her sorrow was the fact that the princess allowed her to share it with her. She said that all existing misunderstandings ought to disappear before the great bereavement, that she felt herself pure in the sight of all, and that he could see from there her love and gratitude. The princess listened to her, without understanding her words, but now and then looking up to her and catching the sound of her voice.

“ Your situation is doubly terrible, princess,” Mlle. Bourienne said, after a moment’s silence. ” I understand that you have not been able to think of yourself ; but I am obliged to do this for you through the love I bear you. Has Alpatych come to see you ? Has he spoken with you about your departure ? ” she asked.

Princess Marya made no reply. She did not comprehend who was to travel, and whither. “ How could one undertake anything now, or think of anything? What difference does it make ? ” She made no reply.

” Do you know, chère Marie” said Mlle. Bourienne, ” do you know that we are in imminent danger, that we are surrounded by the French ? It is dangerous to travel now. If we do, we shall certainly be taken captives, and God knows — “

Princess Marya looked at her companion without understanding what she was saying.

” Oh, if you only knew how little I care now,” she said. ” Of course, I should not like to leave him for anything — Alpätych did say something to me about leaving — Speak to him ! I cannot and do not want to know anything — “

” I have spoken to him. He hopes that we shall be able to start tomorrow ; but I think it would be better now to stay here,” said Mlle. Bourienne, ” because, confess, chère Marie, that it would be terrible to fall into the hands of the soldiers or rioting peasants on the road.”

Mlle. Bourienne drew out of her reticule a proclamation (printed not on common Russian paper) of the French General Rameau, enjoining the inhabitants not to leave their homes, and promising them due protection by the French authorities. This she handed to the princess.

” I think it will be best to address this general,” said Mlle. Bourienne, ” and I am sure that you will receive proper consideration.”

Princess Marya read the paper, and dry sobs twitched her face.

” Through whom did you receive this ? ” she said.

“No doubt they found out that I was a Frenchwoman by name,” Mlle. Bourienne said, blushing.

Princess Mdrya, with the paper in her hand, rose from the window and with a pale face left the room and went to Prince Audrey’s former cabinet.

” Dunydsha, send to me Alpätych, Dron, or somebody ! ” said Princess Märya, ” and tell Amdliya Kdrlovna not to come to see me,” she added, when she heard Mlle. Bourienne’s voice. ” Let us leave at once ! Immediately ! ” said Princess Marya, terrified at the thought of being left in the power of the French.

” If Prince Andréy knew that she was in the power of the French ! She, the daughter of Prince Nikoldy Andreevich Bolkdnski, to ask General Rameau to offer her protection, and for her to accept his benefactions ! ” This thought terrified her, made her shudder, blush, and experience entirely unfamiliar outbursts of anger and pride. She vividly saw the whole magnitude of her trouble and, what was worse, the humiliation of her position. ” They, the French, will take their abode in this house; General Rameau will occupy the cabinet of Prince Andréy ; for amusement they will rummage through his letters and papers, and will read them. Mlle. Bourienne lui fera les honneurs de Boejuchdrovo. I shall be given a room for charity’s sake; the soldiers will open my father’s fresh grave, in order to take off his crosses and stars ; they will tell me of their victories over the Russians, and will express their feigned sympathy for my’sorrow — ” Princess Mdrya did not think her own thoughts, but felt herself under obligations to think the thoughts of her father and her brother. For her personally it did not make any difference where they stopped, or what might become of her ; but she, at the same time, felt herself to be the representative of her deceased father and of Prince Andréy. She instinctively thought their thoughts and felt their feelings. She felt it her duty to do what they would have said, what they would have done. She went into the cabinet of Prince Andréy and, essaying to be permeated by his thoughts, reflected on her position.

The demands of life, which she had regarded as annihilated with the death of her father, suddenly arose before Princess Marya with a new, unknown force, and took possession of her.

Agitated and red in her face, she paced in the room, asking now for Alpâtych, now for Mikhail Ivanych, now for Tikhon, and now for Dron. Dunyasha, the nurse, and all the maids were quite unable to tell her anything as to how much truth there was in what Mlle. Bourienne had told her. Alpâtych was not at home : he had left to find the authorities. Mikhail Ivânych, the architect, who was called in, came into the presence of Princess Marya with sleepy eyes, and could not tell her a thing. He replied to her with the same smile of consent, with which he had become accustomed in the course of fifteen years to reply to the questions of the old prince, without expressing his opinion, so that it was impossible to get any definite results from his answers. The old valet, Tikhon, with drawn and fallen face, which bore the impress of an incurable grief, replied, ” Yes, miss,” to all of Princess Marya’s questions, and with difficulty restrained his tears, every time he looked at her.

Finally Elder Dron entered the room and, bowing low before the princess, stopped near the door.

Princess Marya crossed the room and stopped in front of him.

“Dron,” said Princess Mârya, who saw in him her staunch friend, the same Dron who every year brought her from the Vyazma Fair an especial kind of cookies, which he handed her every time with a smile. “ Dron, now, after our misfortune — ” she began. But she stopped, being unable to proceed.

” We all walk under God’s protection,” he said, with a sigh.

They were silent for awhile.

” Dron, Alpâtych has gone somewhere, and I have nobody to turn to, — is it true what I am told, that I cannot leave ? ”

” Why not, your Serenity, you may travel — ” said Dron.

” I was told that it is dangerous on account of the enemy. My dear, I cannot do anything, I do not understand anything,— I have no one with me. I want to leave by all means tonight, or early tomorrow morning.”

Dron was silent. He looked stealthily at Princess Mârya.

“There are no horses,” he said, “and I told Yâkov Alpâtych so.”

“ Why not ? ” asked the princess.

“ It is all on account of the scourge sent by God,” said Dron. ” Such horses as we had have been taken for the army, and others have died, it being a bad year. We not only have nothing to feed the horses on, but we shall have to starve ourselves ! Some people have not had anything to eat for three days. We have nothing, — they have ruined us completely.”

Princess Mârya listened attentively to what he was telling her.

“ The peasants are ruined ? They have no bread ? ” she asked.

“ They are starving,” said Dron. ” Let alone the teams — “

“ Why did you not tell me, Dron ? Is it not possible to assist them ? I will do everything I can — ”

It seemed strange to Princess Mârya to think that now, at the moment that such a grief filled her heart, there could be rich people and poor people, and that the rich should not assist the poor. She had a dim recollection that there was such a thing as manorial grain, and that this was given to the peasants. She knew also that neither her brother nor her father would have refused to aid the peasants ; but she was afraid she might make some mistake in her words in reference to this distribution of the grain, which she was contemplating. She was glad that a pretext for some care presented itself to her, and that for its sake it was not disgraceful for her to forget her grief. She began to ask Dron for the details of the want of the peasants, and of what the manor of Bogucharovo had in store.

” You have some manorial grain, belonging to my brother, have you not ? ” she asked.

” The manorial grain has not been touched,” he said, proudly. “ Our prince has ordered us not to sell it.”

« Give it to the peasants, — give them all they need : I permit you to do so in the name of my brother,” said Princess Marya.

Dron made no reply and drew a deep sigh.

“ Distribute this grain to them, if there is enough for them. Give them all. I so command you in the name of my brother, and tell them that what is ours belongs to them. We will spare nothing for them. Tell them so ! “

Dron looked fixedly at the princess, while she was speaking.

“ Free me, motherkin, for God’s sake ! Tell them to receive the keys from me ! ” he said. ” I have served for twenty-three years, and have done no wrong. Free me,, for God’s sake ! ”

Princess Marya did not understand what it was he wanted her to do, and what it was he wanted to be freed from. She replied to him that she had never doubted his loyalty, and that she was always ready to do everything for him and the peasants.

XI.

Two hours later Dunydsha came to the princess with the news that Dron had come and that all the peasants had gathered near the granary at the princess’s command, wishing to have a talk with the mistress.

” I have never called them,” said Princess Marya. “All I did was to tell Dron to distribute the grain to them.”

” For the Lord’s sake, princess dear, drive them away, and do not go out to them ! It is nothing but a deception — ” said Dunydsha, ” and when Ydkov Alpatych arrives, we shall leave — but you, please — ”

” What deception ? ” the princess asked, in surprise.

” I will tell you, if you will only listen to me, for the Lord’s sake. You may ask the nurse, too. They say they do not agree to leaving here at your command.”

“ What are you talking about ? I have never ordered them to leave — ” said Princess Marya. ” Send Dron to me ! ”

Dron came and confirmed Dunyasha’s words: the peasants had come at the princess’s command.

” I have never sent for them,” said the princess. ” You must have made a mistake. I only told you to distribute the grain to them.”

Dron heaved a sigh and made no reply.

“If you so order, they will leave,” he said.

“No, no, I will go out to see them!” said Princess Marya.

In spite of Dunydsha’s and the nurse’s advice not to go out. Princess Marya stepped out on the porch. Dron, Dunyäsha, the nurse, and Mikhail Ivänych followed after her.

“No doubt they think I have offered them the grain on condition that they remain here, while I go away and leave them to the mercy of the French,” thought Princess Marya. ” I will promise them a monthly allowance and quarters in the Moscow suburban estate ; I am sure Andrey would have done even more in my place,” she thought, as she walked up in the twilight to the throng which was gathered in the pasture near the granary.

The crowd formed a denser circle and the hats were swiftly taken off. Princess Märya, lowering her eyes and tripping on her dress, walked over close to them. The eyes of so many old and young men were directed upon her, and there were so many different persons there, that Princess Marya could not see a single face, and, as she felt the necessity of speaking at once to every one, she did not know what to do. But the consciousness of being the representative of her father and her brother again gave her strength, and she boldly began her speech :

” I am very glad that you have come,” said Princess Märya, without raising her eyes, and feeling how rapidly and how strongly her heart was beating. ” Dron told me that the war has ruined you. This is our common sorrow, and I will spare nothing in order to assist you. I myself shall leave because it is dangerous here — and the enemy is near — because — I give you everything, my friends, and ask you to take everything, all our grain, so that you may suffer no want. And if you have been told that I give you the grain that you may stay here, it is an untruth. On the contrary, I ask you to leave here with all your families and all your possessions and to go to our Moscow suburban estate, where I promise you I will take care of you so that you may not suffer. You will be given homes and grain there.”

The princess stopped. Sobs were heard in the crowd.

” I am not doing this on my account,” continued the princess, ” but in the name of my deceased father, who was a good master to you, and for my brother, and for his son.”

She stopped again. Nobody interrupted her silence.

” We have a common sorrow, and we will divide with you. All that is mine belongs to you,” she said, watching the faces which were in front of her.

All eyes were directed upon her, with a similar expression, the meaning of which she could not make out. Whether it was curiosity, devotion, gratitude, or fright and mistrust, — the expression on all the faces was one and the same.

” We are very much satisfied with your favours, only it is not proper for us to take the manorial grain,” a voice was heard in the rear.

” Why ? ” asked the princess.

No one made any reply, and Princess Märya, looking at the throng, noticed that all the eyes were lowered, the moment she met their glances.

” Why do you not want it ? ” she asked again. Nobody replied.

Princess Marya felt ill at ease during the silence ; she tried to catch somebody’s glance.

” Miry do you not speak ? ” the princess turned to an old man, who, leaning on a cane, was standing in front of her. “ Tell me if you think that something else is to be done. I will do anything,” she said, having caught his eyes. But he, as though angry at this, dropped his head entirely, and said :

” Why should we agree ? We do not want the grain.”

“ Why should we abandon everything? We do not agree to it — We do not give our consent. We are sorry for you, but we do not give our consent. Go yourself ! ” voices were heard on different sides. And again the same expression appeared on the faces of all the people present, but now it certainly was not the expression of curiosity and gratitude, but of grim determination.

” Evidently you have not understood,” Princess Marya said, with a sad smile. ” Why do you not want to go ? I promise to give you houses, and to feed you. Here the enemy will ruin you — “

But the voices of the crowd drowned hers.

“ We do not give our consent, — let him destroy us ! We do not take your grain, we do not give our consent ! “

Princess Märya again tried to catch somebody’s eyes, but not one glance was directed at her ; their eyes apparently evaded her. She felt strange and ill at ease.

” I declare, she wants to enslave us ! Destroy our homes, and become her slaves ! Indeed ! ‘ I will give you grain!’ says she,” were heard the voices in the throng.

Princess Marya, lowering her head, left the circle and went to the house. She repeated her order to Dron to have the horses ready by the next morning, and went to her room, where she was left with her thoughts.

XII.

Princess Marya sat that night for a long time at the open window of her room, listening to the sounds of the peasants’ conversations, which were borne from the village, but she did not think of them. She felt that no matter how much she might think of them, she would not understand them. She was only thinking of her grief, which now, after the interruption produced by the cares of the present, had become the past for her. She now could recall things, could weep and pray. With sundown the wind died down. It was a calm, fresh night. At midnight the voices began to quiet down ; a cock crowed ; the full moon rose behind the lindens ; there rose a fresh, white mist and dew ; and stillness reigned over the house.

One after another there rose before her the pictures of the immediate past, — of her father’s illness and last minutes. She now dwelt on these images with a sad joy, in horror warding oft* only the last form of bis death which, she felt, she was not able to contemplate even in her imagination during that quiet and mysterious hour of the night. These pictures appeared to her with such clearness and with such details that they seemed to her now a reality, now the past, and now the future.

She thought vividly of the moment when he had his stroke, and was dragged along by the arms in the garden at Lÿsyya Gdry, and muttered something with his impotent tongue, jerked his gray eyebrows, and looked restlessly and timidly at her.

“ He wanted to tell me on that day what he told me later on the day of his death,” she thought. “ He always thought what he told me then.” And now she thought in all its details of the night at Lÿsyya Gory preceding his paralytic stroke, when, having a presentiment of misfortune, she had remained with him, against his will. She did not sleep and in the night went on tiptoe downstairs, and, going up to the door of the flower-room, where her father slept that night, listened to his voice. He was speaking with Tikhon in a fatigued voice. He was saying something about the Crimea, about warm nights, and about the empress. Evidently he wanted to talk. ” Why did he not call me ? Why did he not permit me to be with him in Tikhon’s place ? ” Marya had thought then, and she thought so now. ” He will now never tell anybody all that was in his heart. Never again will that minute return for him and for me, when he might tell all that there was on his mind, and I, and not Tikhon, should have listened to him and have comprehended him. Why did I not enter the room then ? ” she thought. ” Maybe he would have told me what he told me later on the day of his death. He then asked Tikhon twice about me. He wanted to see me, and I stood there, behind the door. It was hard and sad for him to speak with Tikhon, who did not understand him. I remember how he spoke with him about Liza, as though she were alive, — he had forgotten that she was dead, and Tikhon reminded him that she had died, and he called out, ‘Fool !’ He was oppressed. I heard him groan behind the door, as he lay down on his bed, and called out, ‘ My God ! ‘ Why did I not go in then ? What would he have done to me ? What should I have lost ? Maybe he would have been consoled, and would have spoken that word to me.” And Princess Mdrya pronounced aloud that word of endearment which he had spoken to her on the day of his death. “Darling ! ” Princess Mdrya repeated the word, and burst out into tears which brought alleviation to her soul. She now saw his face before her, — not that face which she had known ever since she could remember, and which she had always seen from a distance, but that timid and feeble face, which she, bending down to his mouth in order to hear what he was saying, for the first time made out with all its wrinkles and details.

” Darling,” she repeated.

“ What was he thinking about when he said that word ? What does he think now ? ” the question suddenly occurred to her, and, in response to it, she saw him before her with that expression on his face, which he had in his coffin, where his head was tied with a white kerchief. And that terror, which had seized her then, as she touched him and convinced herself that it was not he, but something mysterious and repugnant, took possession of her even now. She wanted to think of something else, and wanted to pray, but was unable to do anything. She looked with her large, open eyes at the moonlight and at the shadows, expecting any moment to see his dead face, and she felt that the quiet, which lay over the house, fettered her.

“ Dunydsha ! ” she whispered. “ Dunydsha ! ” she exclaimed in a wild voice, and, tearing herself away from the stillness, she ran to the maids’ room, meeting on the way the nurse and the maids, who were running toward her.

XIII.

On August 17th Rostov and Ilin, accompanied by Lavrushka, who had just returned from the French captivity, and by a hussar orderly, left their halting-place of Yankovo, within fifteen versts of Boguchärovo, in order to take a look at the country, — and incidentally to test Ilin’s newly bought horse, and to find out whether there was not some hay in the villages.

Boguchärovo had for three days been between two hostile armies, so that it was as easily reached by the Russian rear-guard as by the French vanguard, and so Rostov, as a cautious commander of a squadron, wanted to anticipate the French in obtaining the provisions which were still left at Boguchärovo.

Rostov and Ilin were in the merriest of moods. On their way to Boguchärovo, to the estate of a prince with its manor, where they expected to find a large number of manorial servants and pretty girls, they kept asking Lavrushka about Napoleon, and laughing at his stories, or they raced, in order to test Ilin’s horse.

Rostov did not know that the village to which they were going was the estate of the very Bolkénski who had been the fiancé of his sister.

Rostév and Ilin for the last time started a race on the slope of a hill leading to Boguchärovo, and Rostév, who outraced Ilin, was the first to reach the street of the village.

” You beat me,” said Ilin, red with exhaustion.

” Yes, I was ahead of you on the meadow, and here, too,” Rostév replied, patting his sweating Don charger with his hand.

“ But I, on my French horse, your Serenity,” Lavrushka said behind them, calling his cart dobbin a French horse, ” could have beat you, but I did not want to put you to shame.”

They rode at a pace to the granary, where a large crowd of peasants was gathered.

A few of the peasants took off their hats, while some looked at the riders, without donning theirs. Two old, lank peasants, with wrinkled faces and scanty beards, came out of the tavern, .and, smiling, walked up to the officers with a waddling gait, and singing a nonsense song.

” Fine fellows ! ” Rostév said, laughing. ” Have you any hay ? ”

“ They all look alike — ” said Ilin.

“A most hap-py con-ver-sa-tion,” one of the peasants was singing with a merry smile.

A peasant left the crowd and went up to Rostév.

” Who are you ? ” he asked.

” We are Frenchmen,” Ilin replied, laughing. “ Here is Napoleon himself,” he said, pointing to Lavrushka.

” So you are Russians ?” the peasant asked.

” How great are your forces ? ” asked another, a peasant of low stature, coming out from the crowd.

” Very great,” replied Rostév. ” What are you gathered for ? ” he added. “ Is it a holiday ? ”

” The old men have come together to discuss communal matters,” replied the peasant, walking away from him.

Just then two women appeared on the road from the manor, and with them came a man in a white hat. They were walking up to the officers.

« The one in the pink dress is mine, — you must not cut me out ! ” said Ilin, when he noticed Dunyäsha, who was running up in a determined way.

” She will be ours ! ” Lavrushka said to Ilin, with a wink.

“ What do you wish, my beauty ? ” said Ilin, smiling.

” The princess begs to be informed of what regiment you are and what your name is.”

” This is Count Rostdv, commander of a squadron, and I am your humble servant.”

“ Con-ver-sa-tion ! ” sang the drunken peasant, with a happy smile, and looking at Ilin, who was talking to the girl. Immediately after Dunydsha, Alpdtych came up to Rostdv, having doffed his cap at a distance.

” I take the liberty of troubling your Honour,” he said, with due respect, but with comparative disdain for the youth of the officer, while placing his hand in the bosom of his coat. ” My mistress, the daughter of General-inchief Prince Nikoldy Andréevich Bolkonski, deceased the 15th of this month, finding herself in difficulty on account of the ignorance of these persons,” he pointed to the peasants, ” begs you — Will it not please you,” Alpdtych said, with a sad smile, ” to ride a little to one side, for it is not convenient in the presence — ” Alpdtych pointed to the two peasants who hovered about him, like flies about a horse.

” Ah ! Alpdtych ! Ah, Yakov Alpdtych ! Fine ! Forgive us, for Christ’s sake ! Fine, eh ?” said the peasants, with merry smiles at him. Rostdv looked at the drunken peasants and himself smiled.

” Maybe this amuses your Serenity ? ” Yakov Alpdtych said, staidly, pointing with his free hand to the old men.

” No, there is little amusement in this,” said Rostdv, riding away. ” What is the matter ? ” he asked.

” I take the liberty of informing your Serenity that the ignorant people of this village do not wish to let the mistress out of her estate, and threaten to unhitch the horses, so that everything has been packed since morning, and her Serenity cannot move.”

“ Impossible ! ” exclaimed Rostov.

” I have the honour of reporting the actual facts,” repeated Alpdtych.

Rostdv dismounted from his horse, and, giving it to the orderly, went with Alpdtych to the house, asking him in the meantime for the details of the case. Indeed, the offer of grain, made to the peasants on the previous evening, the princess’s explanation with Bron and with the meeting had so spoiled matters that Dron gave up his keys, joined the peasants, and did not make his appearance in response to Alpdtych’s command. Furthermore, in the morning, when the princess ordered the carriages to be hitched up, in order to depart, the peasants came out to the granary in a large throng and sent word that they would not let the princess out of the village, that there was an order not to leave, and that they would unhitch the horses. Alpdtych went out to reason with them, but he was told (Karp spoke more than the rest; Dron did not show up in the crowd) that the princess could not be sent out, because there was an order about it ; but if the princess remained, they would serve her as of old and would obey her in everything.

Just as Rostov and Ilin came galloping through the village, Princess Marya, in spite of the dissuasion of Alpdtych, of the nurse, and of the maids, ordered the horses hitched up, and was on the point of leaving, but, upon seeing the cavalrymen passing through the village, — she took them for Frenchmen, — the coachmen ran away, and the women in the house began to weep.

” Father, protector ! God has sent you,” spoke the joyous voices, as he passed through the antechamber.

Princess Mdrya, disconsolate and exhausted, was sitting in the parlour, when Rostdv was led into her presence. She did not understand who he was, what he was doing, or what would become of her. Seeing his Russian face, and recognizing by his carriage and his first few words that he belonged to the same circle with herself, she looked at him with her deep, beaming glance, and began to speak with a voice which faltered and trembled from agitation. To Rostov there appeared something romantic in this meeting. ” A defenceless, grief-stricken maiden, alone, left to the mercy of coarse, riotous peasants ! What strange fate has brought me here! ” thought Rostov, listening to her and looking at her. ” What meekness, what nobility in her features and in her expressions ! ” he thought, as he listened to her timid story.

When she told him that all this had happened on the day following the funeral of her father, her voice faltered. She turned away, and then she suddenly cast an inquiring and frightened look at him, fearing lest he might take her words as a desire to enlist his sympathy. Tears stood in Rostov’s eyes. Princess Märya noticed them, and gratefully cast a beaming glance at Rostdv, which made him forget the plainness of her face.

“Princess, I cannot express to you how happy I am that I have accidentally come here, and that I shall have an opportunity of showing you my readiness to serve you,” said Rostov, rising. “You may depart, and I pledge my honour that not a single man will dare to cause you any unpleasantness, if you will only permit me to be your convoy.”

And, bowing politely, as one bows to ladies of royal blood, he walked toward the door. By the respectfulness of his tone Rostov seemed to show that, in spite of his regarding it as a happiness to cultivate her acquaintance, he did not wish to profit by her misfortune, in order to approach her.

Princess Mdrya understood and appreciated this tone.

“ I am very, very thankful to you,” the princess said, in French, « but I hope that it was all only a misunderstanding, and that nobody is to blame for it.” The princess suddenly began to weep. ” Pardon me,” she said.

Rostdv, frowning, bowed once more and left the room.

XIV.

“ Well, is she nice ? No, my dear, the pink one is my beauty, — her name is Dunyasha — ” But, looking at Rostov’s face, Ilin grew silent. He saw that the thoughts of his hero and commander had an entirely different trend.

Rostdv looked grimly at Ilin and, without answering him, rapidly strode down toward the village.

” I will show them ! I will show those robbers ! ” he said to himself.

Alpätych, trotting along with a swimming motion, so as to avoid running, with difficulty caught up with Rostov.

” What decision has it pleased you to make ? ” he said, coming abreast with him.

Rostdv stopped and, compressing his fists, suddenly moved up threateningly against Alpätych.

“ Decision ? What decision ? Old fool ! ” he shouted at him. “ What have you been doing, eh ? The peasants are rioting, and you cannot manage them ? You yourself are a traitor. I know you ! I will flay you all alive — ” and, as though fearing lest he should expend all his supply of rage uselessly, he left Alpätych and hurriedly moved on. Alpätych, suppressing the feeling of insult, followed after Rostdv with his swimming motion, and continued to impart to him his reflections. He told him that the peasants were stubborn, that at the present moment it was not wise to oppose them without a sufficient military command, and that it would be best first to send for a detachment of soldiers.

” I will give them a detachment ! I will oppose them,” Nikoldy said, senselessly, choking from an unreasonable animal anger and from the necessity of finding vent for this anger. Without reflecting what be would do, he unconsciously moved toward the crowd with a rapid, determined gait. The nearer he approached them, the more Alpatych felt that his reckless act might bear good fruit. The same was felt by the peasants, as they looked at his rapid and firm gait and determined, scowling face.

After the hussars had reached the village and Rostov had gone in to see the princess, confusion and discord took possession of the crowd. A few peasants began to say that the newcomers were Russians, and that they might be offended because the lady had not been permitted to depart. Dron was of the same opinion ; but the moment he expressed it, Karp and some other peasants attacked the former elder.

” How many years have you been lording it over the Commune ? ” Karp shouted at him. ” You don’t care. You will dig up your pot and will take it with you, not caring much whether our homes are destroyed or not.”

“ We have been told not to leave our homes, and not to take away as much as a puff of smoke, — that is the end of it ! ” cried another.

” It was your turn to send a son to the army, but you were sorry for your fine lad,” a little old man suddenly began to speak rapidly, attacking Dron, ” but my Yanka you had shaven a soldier. Oh, we shall all die ! “

” Precisely, we shall die ! “

” 1 don’t go against the Commune,” said Dron.

” Exactly, you are not against it : you have fattened your belly on it ! “

The two lank peasants were still talking. The moment Rostdv, accompanied by Ilin, Lavrushka, and Alpdtych, approached the crowd, Karp, sticking his fingers behind his belt and smiling slightly, stepped forward. Dron, on the contrary, went to the rear, and the throng grew more compact.

“ Oh, there ! Who is your elder ? ” shouted Rostov, walking up to the crowd at a rapid gait.

” The elder ? What do you want him for ? ” asked Karp.

But he had not finished his words, when his cap flew off from him, and his head was bent sidewise from a terrible blow.

” Hats off, traitors ! ” Rostdv shouted, in a resonant voice. ” Where is the elder ? ” he cried, in a preternatural voice.

” He is calling for the elder — Dron Zakhdrych, you ! ” were heard a few hasty and submissive voices, and the caps were taken off one after another.

“We cannot riot, we carry out orders,” muttered Karp, and several voices in the rear suddenly spoke out at the same time:

” The old men have decreed that, since there are so many of you, the authorities — “

” What, you are still talking ? — Riot ! Murderers ! Traitors!” Rostov shrieked senselessly, taking Karp by the collar. ” Bind him, bind him ! ” he shouted, though there was no one to bind him but Lavrushka and Alpdtych.

Nevertheless, Lavrushka ran up to Karp and caught him behind by his arms.

” Shall I call our soldiers from the foot of the hill ? ” he cried.

Alpdtych turned to the peasants, calling two of them out by name, to bind Karp. The peasants came out submissively from the crowd and began to ungird themselves.

“ Where is the elder ? ” shouted Rostdv.

Dron, with pale and frowning face, stepped forward.

” Are you the elder ? Bind him, Lavrushka,” cried Rostov, as though this order, too, would find no obstacles. And, indeed, two more peasants came out and began to bind Dron, who, as though to aid them, took off his belt and handed it to them.

« All of you, listen to me ! ” Rostov turned to the peasants. “March home at once, and let me not hear your voices again ! “

« We did not mean any offence. We did it only through ignorance. It was only our stupidity — I kept saying that it was not right,” were heard the voices, rebuking each other.

” I told you so,” said Alpätych, reasserting his rights. ” It is not good, boys ! “

“It is our stupidity, Ydkov Alpätych,” replied the voices, and the crowd at once began to disperse through the village.

The two bound peasants were taken to the manor yard. The drunken peasants followed them.

” Oh, what a shame to look at you ! ” said one of them, turning to Karp.

” How could you have spoken so to the masters ? What did you expect? Fool!” confirmed the other. ” Really, you are a fool ! “

Two hours later the teams stood in the yard of the Boguchdrovo manor. The peasants industriously carried out the things from the manor, and packed them away in the carts, and Bron, who at the request of Princess Marya was let out from the closet, where he had been locked up, stood in the yard and gave his orders to the peasants.

“Don’t pack it so badly,” said one of the peasants, a tall man, with a round, smiling face, receiving a small safe from a chambermaid. “ It cost money. Why do you slam it down that way under the rope? It will only get rubbed. I do not like things this way. Let everything be honest and according to the law. Like this, under the mat, and cover it with hay, — now it is right.”

“ Just see what a lot of books ! ” said another peasant, who was carrying out the bookcases of Prince Andrdy. “ Don’t catch at anything ! The books are heavy, though, boys !”

“ Yes, those who wrote them did not loaf !” said a tall, round-faced peasant, with a significant wink, pointing to the lexicons which were lying on top.

Rostov, who did not wish to obtrude his acquaintance on the princess, did not go to see her, but remained in the village, waiting for her departure. When he saw that the carriages of Princess Mdrya had started from the house, Rostov mounted, and accompanied her on horseback to the road that was occupied by our armies, which was within twelve versts of Bogucharovo. In Yankovo, he respectfully bade her farewell in the tavern, and for the first time allowed himself to kiss her hand.

“ Are you not ashamed ? ” he said, blushingly, to Princess Marya, in response to her expression of gratitude for her salvation (as she called this act). “ Any officer of the police would have done as much for you. If we had only to fight the peasants, we should not have let the enemy get so far,” he said, being ashamed of something, and trying to change the subject. ” I am happy that I have had the opportunity to get acquainted with you. Good-bye, princess ! I wash you happiness and consolation, and I hope we shall meet under more fortunate conditions. If you do not wish to make me blush, please do not thank me ! ”

But if the princess did not thank him in words, she thanked him with the whole expression of her face, which was beaming with gratitude and tenderness. She was absolutely convinced that she certainly would have perished, both from the rioters and the French, and that he had subjected himself to most evident and most terrible perils in order to save her ; and still more convinced was she that he was a man of an exalted and noble soul, who was able to understand her position and her bereavement. His kindly, honest eyes, with the tears standing in them, as she, weeping herself, spoke of her loss, did not leave her imagination.

When she bade him good-bye and was left alone, she suddenly was conscious of tears in her eyes, and now there appeared to her, not for the first time, the strange question whether she did not love him.

On her road to Moscow, though the princess’s condition was not a joyful one, Dunydsha, who was riding in the same carriage with her, noticed more than once that the princess frequently put her head out of the carriage and joyfully and sadly smiled at something.

“What difference if I should love him?” thought Princess Mdrya.

Though she felt ashamed to confess to herself that she was the first to fall in love with a man who, perhaps, would never love her, she consoled herself with the thought that no one would ever find it out, and that she could not be blamed if to the end of her life she, without telling to any one, should love him whom she had loved for the first and last time.

Now and then she recalled his glances, his sympathy, and his words, and happiness did not seem impossible to her. It was then that Dunydsha noticed that she smiled and looked out of the window of the carriage.

” How strange that he should have come to Boguchdrovo, and at that particular moment ! ” thought Princess Märya. ” And his sister had to refuse Prince Andréy” And in all this Princess Marya saw the will of Providence.

The impression which Princess Marya had produced on Rostdv was an agreeable one. When he thought of her, he felt happy, and when his comrades, having learned of his adventure at Boguchdrovo, joked him, saying that when he went for hay he had caught one of the richest matches in Russia, Rostdv grew angry. He was angry because the thought of marrying the charming, gentle Princess Mdrya, with her immense property, more than once crossed his thoughts. For himself personally Nikolay could not wish a better wife than Princess Marya: his marrying her would make the countess, his mother, happy, and would mend the affairs of his father ; and, Nikoläy felt sure it would make Princess Marya happy.

But StSnya ? And the promise ? And it was on this account that Rostdv was angry, when they joked him about Princess Bolkônski.

XV.

When Kutuzov took the command of the armies, he thought of Prince Andréy, to whom he sent an order to report at headquarters.

Prince Andréy arrived at Tsärevo-Zaymfshche on the very day and at the time of the day when Kutuzov was reviewing the troops for the first time. Prince Andréy stopped in the village at the house of the priest, near which stood the carriage of the commanderin-chief. He sat down on a bench to wait for his Most Serene Highness, as everybody now called Kutuzov. In the field back of the village could be heard the sounds of regimental music and the roar of an immense number of voices shouting, ” Hurrah ! ” to the new commanderin-chief. Near the gate, within ten paces from Prince Andréy, stood two orderlies, a courier, and a majordomo, taking advantage of the prince’s absence and of the beautiful weather. A swarthy, bearded, small lieutenantcolonel of hussars rode up to the gate and, looking at Prince Andréy, asked him whether his Most Serene Highness was quartered there and whether he would soon be back.

Prince Andréy told him that he did not belong to the staff of his Highness, and had himself just arrived. The lieutenantcolonel of hussars turned to a dressed-up orderly, and the orderly of the commanderin-chief told him, with that peculiar disdain with which orderlies of commanders-in-chief speak to officers :

” What ? His Most Serene Highness ? He will be here soon, no doubt. “What do you wish ? “

The lieutenantcolonel of hussars smiled into his moustache at the tone of the orderly, dismounted from his horse, turned it over to Ins own orderly, and with a slight bow walked over to Bolkénski. Bolkénski made room for him on the bench. The lieutenantcolonel sat down near him.

” Are you yourself waiting for the commanderin-chief ? ” said the lieutenantcolonel of hussars. ” They say that he is accessible to all, thank God. For with the sausageeaters it is simply terrible ! Ermdlov had good reason to ask to be promoted to the rank of a German. Now, perhaps, Russians will have a chance to say something. The devil knows what they have been doing. We have been doing nothing but retreat. Have you been in the campaign ? ” he asked.

“ I not only had the pleasure,” replied Prince Andréy, ” of taking part in the retreat, but I have also lost in this retreat everything which was dear to me, not to mention my estates and my native home, namely, my father who died from grief. I am from the Government of Smolénsk.”

” Ah ? You are Prince Bolkdnski ? Very happy to make your acquaintance : LieutenantColonel Denisov, better known by the name of Vaska,” said Denisov, pressing the hand of Prince Andréy and with especial attention scrutinizing Bolkénski’s face. “ Yes, I have heard,” he said, with compassion, and, after a moment’s silence, he continued : “ This is a Scythian war. This is all very nice, except for those who suffer from it. Ah, so you are Prince Bolkdnski?” He shook his head. “Very glad, prince, very glad to make your acquaintance,” he added, again with a sad smile, as he pressed his hand.

Prince Andréy knew Denisov from the accounts Natasha had given him about her first fiancé. This reminiscence now pleasantly and painfully transferred him to those morbid sensations, of which he had not been thinking of late, but which still were in his soul. Of late he had received so many other and such serious impressions, such as the abandonment of Smolensk, his arrival at Lÿsyya Gdry, the recent news about his father’s death, and had experienced so many different sensations, that these reminiscences had not come to him for a long time, and when they did come, they no longer affected him as of old. For Denisov that series of reminiscences which was evoked by the name of Bolkonski was a remote, poetic past, when, after the supper and Natdsha’s singing, he, himself not knowing how, proposed to the fifteen-year-old girl. He smiled at the recollection of that time and at his love for Natdsha, and immediately passed over to that which now interested him passionately and exclusively. This was a plan of the campaign, which he had thought out, while serving in the outposts during the retreat. He had presented that plan to Barclay de Tolly, and now he intended to present it to Kutuzov. His plan was based on this : the French line of operation was too extended, and so, instead of acting from the front, or, while acting from the front, essaying to bar their progress, it was necessary to harass their communications. He began to explain his plan to Prince Andréy.

“ They cannot keep up all this line. It is impossible, and I promise to break through it. Give me five hundred men, and I will break through it, you will see ! Nothing but a partisan war can succeed ! “

Denisov got up and, making gestures, expounded his plan to Bolkdnski. In the middle of the exposition, the shouts of the army, more discordant and more extended, and blending with the music and the songs, were heard on the reviewing ground. Trampling and shouting were heard in the village.

” He is coming,” exclaimed a Cossack, who was standing at the gate. “ He is coming ! “

Bolkénski and Denisov moved up to the gate, where stood a group of soldiers (the guard of honour) and saw Kutuzov, who was coming down the street, riding on a small bay horse. An enormous suite of generals followed him. Barclay rode almost by his side ; a crowd of officers ran after them and around them, and cried, ” Hurrah ! “

First the adjutants rode into the yard. Kutuzov impatiently spurred on his horse, which was going at an amble under his heavy weight, and, constantly nodding his head, kept putting his hand to the cap which he wore, — a white, visorless one with a red band, belonging to the chevalier guards. Biding up to the guard of honour, which consisted of a lot of fine-looking grenadiers, most of whom were decorated, and seeing them present arms, he for a moment looked silently at them with his stubborn eye of a commander, and then turned around to the group of generals and officers who surrounded him. His face suddenly assumed a thin expression ; he shrugged his shoulders with a gesture indicative of perplexity.

” The idea of retreating, and retreating with such fine fellows!” he said. “Well, good-bye, general,” he added, urging on his horse through the gate, past Prince Andréy and Denisov.

” Hurrah ! Hurrah ! Hurrah ! ” they shouted back of him.

Since Prince Andréy had last seen him, Kutuzov had grown stouter still, and his face looked swollen. But the familiar white eye, and the wound, and the expression of fatigue in his face were the same. He wore a long uniform (the whip hung on a thin leather strap down his shoulder) and a white cap of the chevalier guards. He sat on his lively horse, lolling and swaying heavily from side to side. ” Whew — whew — whew,” he gave a barely audible whistle as he rode into the yard. On his face was expressed the contentment of a man who wants to take a rest after his presentation. He took his left foot out of his stirrup, lurching forward with his whole body and scowling from the effort, with difficulty drew it over the saddle, bent his knee, grunted, and let himself down to the Cossacks and adjutants who were supporting him.

He adjusted himself, looked around with his halfclosed eyes, and glanced at Prince Andréy, apparently not recognizing him, and with his lurching motion started toward the porch. ” Whew, whew, whew ! ” he whistled, and again looked at Prince Andréy. The impression produced on him by Prince Andréy’s face only after a few seconds (as is frequently the case with old men) connected itself in his recollection with Prince Andréy’s personality.

” Good morning, prince, good morning, my dear ! Come ! ” he spoke wearily, looking about him. He ascended the steps which creaked under his weight. He unbuttoned his coat and sat down on the bench which was standing on the porch.

” How is your father ? “

” I received yesterday the news of his death,” Prince Andréy said, curtly.

Kutuzov looked at Prince Andréy with wide-open eyes and with an expression of terror, then took off his cap and made the sign of the cross. ” The kingdom of heaven be his ! The will of God be done on all of us ! ” He drew a deep breath with full lungs, and grew silent. ” I have loved and respected him greatly, and I sympathize with you with all my heart.” He embraced Prince Andréy, pressed him against his fat breast, and held him so for a long time. When he let him go, Prince Andréy saw that Kutuzov’s flabby lips were trembling, and that there were tears in his eyes. He drew a sigh and leaned both his hands against the bench, in order to raise himself.

” Come, come to my room ! We will have a talk !” he said ; but just then Denisov, who was as little timid in the presence of his superiors as he was in the sight of the enemy, in spite of being stopped by the adjutants near the porch, who spoke to him in an angry whisper, boldly ascended the steps, with a clatter of his spurs. Kutuzov, still leaning his hands on the bench, cast a dissatisfied glance at Denisov. Denisov gave his name and informed his Highness that he had a communication to make to him, which was of great importance to the good of the country. Kutuzov began to look at Denisov with a weary glance and with a gesture which betrayed bis vexation, and, folding his hands over his abdomen, repeated : ” For the good of the country ? What is it ? Speak ! ” Denisov blushed like a girl (it was so strange to see this bearded, drunken old face flushing crimson) and boldly began to expound his plan of cutting the enemy’s line of operation between Vyäzma and Smolénsk. Denisov had lived in that part of the country and knew the locality well. The plan seemed unquestionably good, especially under the persuasiveness of his words. Kutuzov kept looking at his feet, and now and then looked at the yard of the neighbouring house, as though he expected something disagreeable to come from there. And indeed, while Denisov was speaking, a general, carrying a portfolio under his arm, emerged from that house.

” Well,” Kutuzov exclaimed in the middle of Denisov’s exposition, ” are they ready ? ”

” Ready, your Highness,” said the general.

Kutuzov shook his head, as though saying, ” How is one man to manage it all!” and continued to listen to Denisov.

“ I give you the word of honour of a Russian officer,” said Denisov, ” that I will break Napoleon’s communications.”

” What relation of yours is Kirill An cirée vich Denisov, chief of the commissariat ? ” Kutuzov interrupted him.

” My uncle, your Highness.”

” Oh ! We were such friends ! ” Kutuzov said, merrily. “Good, good, my dear, stay here with the staff! We will talk about it tomorrow.” He nodded his head to Denisov and turned away and stretched out his hand for the papers which Konovnitsyn had brought him.

” Would not your Highness like to go into the house ? ” the general of the day said, in a dissatisfied tone of voice. ” It is necessary to look at some plans, and to sign certain papers.”

An adjutant, coming out of the house, reported that everything was ready inside. But Kutuzov apparently wanted to enter the house free from work. He frowned.

” No, bring everything out here, my dear ! Bring out a little table, and I will look at it here ! ” he said. ” Do not go away ! ” he added, turning to Prince Andréy.

Prince Andréy remained on the porch, listening to the report of the general of the day.

During the report, Prince Andréy heard the whispering of a woman and the rustling of a silk gown within. Looking several times in that direction, he observed behind the door a full-formed, ruddy-faced, pretty woman, in a rose-coloured dress and with a lilac silk kerchief on her head, with a dish in her hands, evidently waiting for the commanderin-chief to come in. Kutuzov’s adjutant informed Prince Andréy in a whisper that it was the hostess, the wife of the pope, who was waiting to receive his Highness with bread and salt. Her husband had received him with the cross at church, and she was to receive him at home. ” She is very pretty,” the adjutant added, with a smile. Kutuzov looked around at these words.

Kutuzov was listening to the report of the general of the day (the chief subject of which was a censure of the position at Tsârevo-Zaymfshche) in precisely the same manner in which he had listened to Denisov, and in the same way as he had seven years before listened to the debates of the Austerlitz council of war. Apparently he listened because he had ears, which, even though one of them was plugged with a piece of a cable, could not shut out sounds ; but it was evident that nothing of what the general was telling him could either surprise or interest him, and that he knew in advance what they were going to tell him, and that he listened only because he had to listen to it, as to a service in a church. Everything Denisov had told him was to the point and clever. Everything the general of the day was telling him was still more to the point and more clever still, but it was obvious that Kutuzov despised knowledge and cleverness, and that he knew something different that was to decide the matter, — something apart from knowledge and reason. Prince Andréy carefully watched the face of the commanderin-chief, and the only expression which he could observe on it was that of tedium, and of curiosity about what the whispering of the woman behind the door might mean, and a desire to preserve decorum. It was evident that Kutuzov despised cleverness and knowledge, and even the patriotic sentiment which Denisov had evinced, but he despised them not because of any superior cleverness, knowledge, and sentiment (for he did not even try to give evidence of these), but because of something else. He despised them because of his age and experience in life.

One order which Kutuzov had added to that report had reference to the marauding of the Russian troops. The general of the day at the end of the report presented a paper for his Most Serene Highness to sign ; it offered the landed proprietors redress for reaped green oats, by petitioning against the chiefs of the army.

Kutuzov smacked his lips and shook his head, as he listened to this affair.

” Pitch it into the stove. Let me tell you once for all, my dear,” he said, “ you must pitch all these affairs into the fire. Let them harvest the grain and bum wood, if they prosper from it ! I do not order nor permit it, but

likewise I cannot hold them to account for it. We cannot get along without it. When the wood is cut the chips fly.” He looked once more at the document. “Oh, that German precision ! ” he muttered, shaking his head.

XVI.

” Now it is all done,” said Kutuzov, signing the last paper. Rising heavily and smoothing out the folds of his white, puffed-up neck, he advanced toward the door with a merry face.

The wife of the pope, with her blood rushing to her face, took hold of the dish, which she did not give him in time, although she had been so long ready. She made a low bow and took it up to Kutuzov.

Kutuzov’s eyes were halfclosed ; he smiled, touched her chin with his hand, and said :

” What a beauty ! Thank you, my little dove ! “

He fetched a few gold coins out of the pocket of his pantaloons, and placed them on the dish. “Well, how are you getting on ? ” Kutuzov asked, walking to the room set aside for him. The pope’s wife, smiling a dimpled smile on her ruddy face, walked after him to her own room. An adjutant came out to Prince Andréy on the porch and invited him to breakfast ; half an hour later Prince Andréy was again called to Kutuzov. Kutuzov was lying in an easy chair, his uniform being still unbuttoned. He was holding a French book in his hand. When Prince Andréy entered the room, he put in a knife to mark the place, and turned the book down. It was “Les Chevaliers du Cygne” a work by Aladame de Genlis, as Prince Andréy found out from the cover.

” Sit down, sit down, and we will talk ! ” said Kutuzov. ” It is sad, very sad. Remember, my dear, that I am your father, your second father.”

Prince Andréy told Kutuzov everything which he

knew about the decease of his father, and about what he had seen at Lÿsyya G6ry, when he visited it.

” See what they have brought us to ! ” Kutuzov suddenly said, in an agitated voice, evidently forming a clear picture, from Prince Andréy’s recital, of the condition in which Russia then was.

” Give me time, give me time ! ” he added, with a grim expression on his face, and, apparently not wishing to prolong this conversation, which agitated him, he said : ” I have called you, because I want you to stay with me.”

“ I thank your Highness,” replied Prince Andréy, ” but I am afraid that I am no longer any good for the staff,” he said, with a smile which Kutuzov noticed. ” Above all,” added Prince Andréy, ” I am used to the regiment. I like my officers, and I think my men like me. I should feel sorry to leave my regiment. If I decline the honour of being with you, you must believe me — “

Kutuzov’s puffed-up face was lighted up by an intelligent, kindly and, at the same time, sarcastic smile. He interrupted Bolkonski.

“ I am sorry, for I need you ; but you are right, you are right. We do not need anybody here. There are always plenty of counsellors, but no men. The regiments would be something quite different, if all the counsellors served in the regiments, as you do. I remember you at Austerlitz. I remember, I remember what you did with the flag,” said Kutuzov, and a flush of joy came over Prince Andréy’s face at the mention of it. Kutuzov drew Prince Andréy to him by his hand, offering him his cheek, and again Prince Andréy saw tears in the eyes of the old man. Though he knew that Kutuzov was prone to weep, and that he was kind to him and pitied him, wishing to express his sympathy for him in his loss, he was both flattered and pleased at this reminiscence of the battle of Austerlitz.

” God protect you on your own path ! I know your path is the path of honour.” He was silent. ” I was sorry for you in Bucharest: I had to send for you.” Changing the conversation, Kutuzov began to speak of the Turkish war and the peace which had been concluded. ” I have been rebuked enough,” said Kutuzov, ” for the war, and for the peace — but everything came out all right. Tout vient à point à celui qui sait attendre. There were just as many counsellors there as there are here,” he continued, returning to the counsellors, who apparently interested him. ” Oh, the counsellors, the counsellors ! ” he said. ” If I had listened to them all, there would have been no peace in Turkey, and the war would not be finished yet. They wanted to do everything in a hurry, but what is done in a hurry sometimes turns out to be a long business. If Kämenski had not died, he would have been ruined. He stormed the fortresses with thirty thousand men. ‘It is not hard to take a fortress, but it is hard to win a campaign. For this it is not necessary to storm and attack, but to have patience and bide your time. Kamenski sent his soldiers against Rushchuk, but I sent out nothing but patience and time, and I took more forts than Kamenski, and made the Turks eat horse-flesh. So will the French. Take my word for it,” Kutuzov said, becoming animated and striking his breast : ” They will eat horse-flesh yet.” And again his eyes were dimmed by tears.

“ But it will be necessary to accept battle, will it not ? ” asked Prince Andréy.

” It will be necessary, if all demand it, — there will be no way out— But believe me, my dear, there are no stronger enemies than patience and time; they will do everything, but the counsellors n’entendent pas de cette oreille, voilà le mal. Some want it, others don’t. What is to be done ? ” he asked, apparently waiting for an answer. ” What would you want me to do ? ” he repeated, and his eyes sparkled with a deep, intelligent expression.

” I will tell you what to do,” he said, since Prince Andréy had not yet made any reply. ” I will tell you what to do. Dans le doute, mon cher,” he was silent for a moment, ” abstiens-toi,” he said, scanning his words. ” Well, good-bye, my dear. Remember that I bear your loss with you with all my heart, and that I am not for you a Serene Highness, not a prince, and not a commanderin-chief, but a father. If you need anything, come straight to me ! Good-bye, my dear ! “

He embraced and kissed him once more. And before Prince Andréy left the room, Kutuzov drew a sigh of relief and picked up his unfinished novel by Madame de Genlis, “Les Chevaliers du Cygne”

How and why it had happened, Prince Andréy was unable to explain ; but after this meeting with Kutuzov he returned to his regiment, reassured as to the general state of affairs and as to the man to whom they had been entrusted. The more he saw the absence of all personal interests in this old man, in whom there seemed to be left only the habits of passions and, instead of a mind that groups events and makes deductions, the mere ability to contemplate calmly the course of events, the more he was satisfied that everything would be as it ought to be. ” There will be nothing of his own in this matter. He will not invent anything, will undertake nothing,” thought Prince Andréy, “ but he will listen to everything, will take note of everything, will put everything in its place, will not hamper anything that is good, and will prevent anything harmful from happening. He understands that there is something more powerful and significant than his will, — and that is the inevitable march of events, and he knows how to see them and how to understand their meaning, and in view of this meaning he knows how to renounce his participation in these events, and his personal will, which is directed to something else. Above all,” thought Prince Andréy, ” one feels like believing him because he is a Russian, in spite of the novel by Genlis and his French proverbs, and because his voice trembled as he said, ‘ See what they have brought us to ! ‘ and because he started weeping as he said that he would make them eat horse-flesh.” On this feeling, dimly experienced more or less by everybody, was based that unanimity and general assent which accompanied the popular selection of Kutuzov for commanderin-chief, which was contrary to court considerations.

XVII.

After the emperor’s departure from Moscow, life there began to flow in its habitual order, and the stream of this life was so much like that of every day that it was hard to remember the past days of patriotic enthusiasm and transports, and hard to believe that Russia was really in danger, and that the members of the English club were at the same time sons of their country, ready for any sacrifice in its behalf. The one thing which recalled the universal patriotic enthusiasm which had been manifested during the stay of the emperor was the demands made by the sacrifices in men and money, which, as soon as they had been made, were clothed in a legal, official form and seemed to be inevitable.

With the approach of the enemy to Moscow, the view held by the Muscovites in respect to their condition not only showed no greater seriousness, but, on the contrary, greater levity, as is always the case with people who see a great peril approaching them. When a danger is imminent, two voices always speak with equal strength in the soul of a man : one very sensibly says that a man should carefully consider the quality of the danger and the means for freeing himself from it ; another says more sensibly still that it is too hard and too painful to think of the danger, while it is not in man’s power to foresee everything and to save himself from the common march of events, and that therefore it is better to turn away from the calamity, so long as it has not yet appeared, and to think only of pleasure. In solitude man generally submits to the first voice ; in society, on the contrary, to the second. Even thus it now happened with the inhabitants of Moscow. For a long time there had not been so much gaiety in Moscow as during that year.

Ros topchin’s broadsides, with the heading representing a tavern, a saloon-keeper, and the Moscow burgher Kàr-pushka Chigirin, ” who, having been a soldier and having taken a dram too much, heard that Bonaparte intended to march against Moscou’, whereupon he grew angry and cursed all the French with base zcords, and went out of the tavern and began to speak under the eagle to the assembled people,” were read and discussed on a par with the last bout-rime of Vasili Lvdvich Pushkin.

At the club, men gathered in the corner room to read these broadsides, and some were pleased to read how Kdr-pushka made fun of the French, saying ” that they will puff up from the cabbage, will burst from the porridge, and will choke from the beet soup, and that they are all midgets, and that one woman will pitch three of them on a fork.” A few did not approve of this tone, saying that it was contemptible and stupid. They told stories about Rostopchin having sent all Frenchmen and even strangers out of Moscow, and that there were spies and agents of Napoleon among them ; these stories were told mainly in order to retail those clever words which Rostopchin uttered at their deportation. The strangers were despatched in a boat to Nizhni-Ndvgorod, and Rostopchin said to them : ” Rentrez en vous-mcme, entrez dans la barque et n’en faites pas une barque de Caron.” They also said that all the government officials had been sent out of Moscow, and to this they added Shinshin’s joke that for this alone Moscow ought to be grateful to Napoleon. They said that Mamdnov’s regiment would cost him eight hundred thousand, that Bezukhi had spent an even larger sum on his soldiers, and that the best part of Bezukhi’s act was that he himself would put on a uniform and would ride at the head of his regiment, and would not charge anything to those who should come to look at him.

” You never spare a soul,” said Julie Drubetskdy, pick- -ing up and pressing down a mass of freshly made lint with her thin, ring-covered fingers.

Julie was getting ready to leave Moscow on the following day, and now gave her parting evening entertainment.

” Bezukhi est ridicule, but he is so good, so charming ! What pleasure do you find to be so caustique ? “

” A fine !” said a young man in a militia uniform, whom Julie called “mon chevalier,” and who was going with her to Nizhni-Novgorod.

In Julie’s circle, as in many other societies in Moscow, it had been agreed to speak only Russian, and those who made use of any French words had to pay a fine to the committee of voluntary contributions.

“ Another fine for the Gallicism,” said a Russian writer, who was present in the drawingroom. ” ‘ The pleasure to be ‘ is not Russian.”

” You spare nobody,” Julie continued to speak to the militiaman, without paying any attention to the remark of the author.

” For ‘ caustique ‘ I am to blame,” she said, ” and I shall pay, but for the pleasure to tell you the truth I am ready to pay again; for the Gallicisms I am not responsible,” she turned to the author, ” I have neither the money nor the time that Prince Golitsyn has, to hire a teacher and study Russian.”

“Ah, here he is!” said Julie. “Quand on— No, no,” she turned to the officer of the militia, “ you will not catch me. When we speak of the sun we see his beams,” said the hostess, smiling graciously to Pierre. ” We have just been speaking of you,” Julie said, with that freedom in lying which is characteristic of society women.

“We said that your regiment, no doubt, will be better than Mamdnov’s.”

“ Oh, please do not speak to me about my regiment,” replied Pierre, kissing the hand of the hostess and sitting down by her side. “ I am sick of it.”

” You will certainly command it in person ! ” said Julie, exchanging a sly and sarcastic glance with the officer of the militia.

In Pierre’s presence the officer of the militia was no longer so caustique, and in his face there was an expression of perplexity as to what Julie’s smile might mean. In spite of his absent-mindedness and good nature, Pierre’s personality at once put a stop to all attempts at ridiculing him in his presence.

” No,” Pierre answered, smiling, and surveying his huge, fat body. “The Frenchmen would find it too easy to hit me, and besides, I am afraid I could not climb on a horse.”

Among the subjects raked up for conversation, Julie’s company also hit on the Rostdvs.

“ They say their affairs are in a pretty bad shape,” said Julie. ” And he, the count, is such a scatterbrain. The Razumdvskis wanted to buy his house and suburban estate, and the matter has been drawn out so long ! He asks too big a price.”

” I have heard that the sale will be consummated in a few days,” somebody remarked. ” Though, I must say, it is reckless to buy anything in Moscow now.”

“ Why ?” asked Julie. ” Do you really think there is any danger for Moscow ? ”

” Why do you depart ? ”

“I ? How strange ! I am leaving because — well, because everybody is leaving, and because I am not a Joan of Arc, and not an Amazon.”

“All right. Give me some more rags !”

“If he knows how to manage things, he will be able to pay all his debts,” the officer of the militia continued in reference to Rostdv.

” He is a good old man, but a very pauvre sire. Why do they live here so long ? They wanted to go to the country long ago. Natasha, I think, is well now,” Julie addressed Pierre, with a sly smile.

“ They are waiting for their younger son,” said Pierre. “ He entered Obolénski’s regiment of Cossacks and for that purpose went to Byélaya Tsérkov, where the regiment is forming. Now he has been transferred to my regiment, and he is expected any day. The count intended to leave some time ago, but the countess would not leave Moscow until her son arrived.”

” I saw them the other day at the Arkhérovs. Natâsha has grown pretty again and is making merry. She sang a romance. How easily some people get over things ! “

” Get over what ? ” Pierre asked, with dissatisfaction.

Julie smiled.

” You know, count, such knights as you are are to be found only in the novels of Madame Souza.”

“ What knight ? ” Pierre asked, blushing.

” Please don’t, dear count ! C ‘est la fable de tout Moscou. Je vous admire, ma parole d’honneur.”

” A fine ! A fine ! ” said the officer of the militia.

“ All right. I can’t tell you how tedious it is ! ”

” Qu’est ce qui est la fable de tout Moscou ? ” Pierre, rising, said angrily.

” Please don’t, count ! You know ! “

” I know nothing,” said Pierre.

” I know that you have been friendly with Natâsha, and therefore— No, I, I am a greater friend of Vyéra’s. Cette chère Vera.”

“ Non, madame,” Pierre continued, in a dissatisfied voice. ” I have by no means taken upon myself the rôle of Natäsha Rostov’s knight, and I have not been at their house for nearly a month. But I do not understand the cruelty — ”

” Qui s’excuse, s’accuse” said Julie, smiling, and waving the lint. In order to have the last word, she at once changed the conversation. “ I heard to-day that poor Marya Bolkdnski arrived yesterday in Moscow. Have you heard ? She has lost her father.”

” Really ? Where is she ? I should like very much to see her,” said Pierre.

” I passed last evening with her. She will leave tonight or tomorrow with her nephew for the suburban estate.”

” How is she ? ” asked Pierre.

“ So so, sad. Do you know who saved her ? It is a whole romance: Nikoläy Rostov. She was surrounded, and they wanted to kill her, and had wounded some of her men. He rushed in and saved her — ”

” Another romance ! ” said the officer of the militia. “ Really, this universal flight is causing all the old maids to get married. Catiche is one, and Princess Bolkonski is another.”

” Do you know, I think that she is un petit peu amoureux du jeune homme.”

” A fine ! A fine ! A fine ! “

” But how are you going to say that in Russian ? “

XVIII.

When Pierre returned home, he was handed two of Rostopchin’s broadsides, which had been brought out that day.

The first gave the information that the rumour that Count Rostopchm had forbidden people to leave Moscow was false, and that, on the contrary’, Count Rostopchm was glad to see the ladies and merchants’ wives leaving Moscow. ” There will be less fear, less gossip,” said the broadside, “but I shall forfeit my life if the scoundrel gets into Moscow.” These words convinced Pierre for the first time that the French would be there. The second broadside informed the inhabitants that our headquarters were at Vyäzma, that Count Wittgenstein had conquered the French, but that, since many inhabitants wished to arm themselves, there were weapons offered them in the arsenal, such as sabres, pistols, and guns, which they could get at a reasonable price. The tone of the broadsides was no longer as jocular as in the former Chiginn conversations. Pierre fell to musing over these broadsides. It was obvious that the terrible thunder-cloud, which he had invoked with all the powers of his soul, and which at the same time caused him instinctive terror, was approaching.

” Shall I enter military service and go into the army, or shall I wait?” Pierre asked himself this question for the hundredth time. He took a pack of cards, which was lying on his table, and began to play solitaire.

” If this solitaire comes out,” he said to himself, shuffling the cards and looking up, “if it comes out, it means — What does it mean ? “

He had not yet decided what it meant when outside the door of the cabinet he heard the voice of the elder princess, asking whether she could enter.

“ Then it will mean that I must go to the army,” Pierre finished. ” Come in, come in ! ” he added, turning to the princess.

(The elder princess, the one with the long waist and the petrified face, continued to live in Pierre’s house ; the two younger ones had married.)

“ Pardon me, mon cousin, for having come to see you,” she said, in a voice of mingled rebuke and agitation. ” Some decision must be made at last. What will it be ? Everybody has left Moscow, and the people are getting riotous. Are we going to stay ? ”

“ On the contrary, everything seems to be favourable, ma cousine,” Pierre said, with that habitual jesting, which he, bearing in embarrassment his rôle of benefactor to the princess, had assumed in relation to her.

” Yes, very favourable, thank you ! Värvara Ivdnovna has told me to-day how our troops are distinguishing themselves. Great honour it does them ! The people are rioting, and have quit obeying ; even my maid is saucy to me. Soon they will begin to strike us. You can’t walk in the streets. But worse than all, in a day or two the French will be here, — why should we wait? I ask you only for this, mon cousin,” said the princess, “ order them to take me to St. Petersburg. Such as I am, I cannot live under Bonaparte’s rule.”

” But, ma cousine, where do you get your information from ? On the contrary — “

” I will not submit to your Napoleon. Others may do as they please — If you will not do it — “

“Yes, I will. I will give the order at once.”

The princess was apparently annoyed because there was no one to be angry with. She whispered something and sat down on a chair.

” But you are getting false reports,” said Pierre. ” In the city everything is quiet, and there is no danger. I have just read — ” Pierre showed the princess the broadsides. ” The count writes that he will forfeit his life if the enemy gets into Moscow.”

” Ah, that count of yours ! ” the princess said, with malice. ” He is a hypocrite, a rascal, who has himself instructed the people to start rioting. Did he not write in these stupid broadsides, * Whoever it be, yank him by his hair to the lockup ! ‘ How stupid ! ‘ Whoever takes him,’ says he, ‘ shall receive honour and glory.’ That is what he has brought us to with his sweet speeches. Varvara Ivänovna told me that a crowd almost killed her because she spoke in French — ”

” That is so. But you take everything so much to heart,” said Pierre, beginning to lay out the solitaire.

Although the solitaire came out, Pierre did not go into the army, but remained in deserted Moscow in the same turmoil and indecision, with fear and, at the same time, with joy, expecting something terrible.

On the following night the princess departed, and Pierre’s chief manager came to inform him that it was impossible to procure the amount demanded for furnishing the uniforms of the regiment, if one estate were not sold. His manager reminded him in general that all these plans about the regiment would ruin him. Pierre with difficulty concealed a smile, while listening to the words of the manager.

” Sell it ! ” he said. ” What is to be done ? I cannot refuse now.”

The more critical was the condition of all affairs, especially of his own, the more obvious it was, and the more agreeable to Pierre, that the catastrophe which he had been expecting was near at hand. There was hardly any one of his acquaintances left in Moscow, du lie had gone, and so had Princess Marya. Of his close friends only the Rostdvs were still in Moscow, but Pierre did not visit them.

On that day Pierre, to divert himself, drove to the village of Vorontsdvo to look at the large balloon which Leppich was building for the destruction of the enemy, and the trial balloon which was to be sent up on the next day. This balloon was not yet ready ; as Pierre learned, it was being built at the request of the emperor. The emperor had written to Count Rostopclun about this balloon as follows :

“ As soon as Leppich is ready, you will choose for his boat a crew of reliable and intelligent men, and you will despatch a courier to General Kutuzov, to inform him of it. I have communicated with him about it. Please enjoin Leppich to be very careful about the place where he will descend the first time, lest he be mistaken and fall into the hands of the enemy. It is indispensable that he should combine his movements with those of the commander-inchief.”

On his return home from Vorontsovo, Pierre crossed the BolOtnaya Square, where he saw a crowd at the Judgment Place. He stopped his cab and got out. It was the public whipping of a French cook accused of being a spy. The whipping had just taken place, and the executioner was untying from the bench a pitifully groaning, stout man with red whiskers, wearing blue stockings and a green camisole. Another culprit, lean and pale, was standing near by. Both, to judge from their faces, were Frenchmen. With a frightened and ailing expression, like the one on the countenance of the lean Frenchman, Pierre pushed his way through the crowd.

” What is it ? Who ? For what ? ” he asked.

But the attention of the crowd, consisting of officials, burghers, merchants, peasants, women in cloaks and small furs, was so eagerly concentrated on that which was going on in the Judgment Place that no one made any reply to him. The stout man rose, frowningly shrugged his shoulders, and, apparently wishing to express firmness, began to put on his camisole, without looking around him ; but suddenly his lips trembled, and he burst out into tears, from anger at himself, as people of a sanguine temperament weep. The crowd began to speak loudly, in order, as Pierre thought, to drown the feeling of compassion in themselves.

“ He is some prince’s chef — “

“ Well, moossioo, evidently the Russian sauce is tart for a Frenchman, — it has put his teeth on edge,” said a wrinkled scribe, who was standing near Pierre, just as the cook began to weep. The scribe looked around him, apparently expecting to see his joke appreciated. A few laughed, while some continued to look in fright at the executioner, who was undressing the other man.

Pierre began to snivel and to scowl, and, turning rapidly around, he went back to his cab, all the time muttering something to himself, both while he was walking and taking his seat in the cab. During his ride he several times shuddered and exclaimed so loudly that the coachman asked him :

” What do you wish ? “

” Whither are you driving ? ” Pierre shouted at the coachman, who was turning into the Lubydnka.

” You ordered me to drive to the commanderin-chief,” replied the coachman.

” Stupid ! Beast ! ” shouted Pierre, who hardly ever called his coachman names. ” I told you to drive home ; and go there as fast as you can, idiot ! I must leave this very day,” he muttered to himself.

At the sight of the chastised Frenchman and of the crowd which surrounded the Judgment Place, Pierre decided so definitely that he could no longer remain in Moscow and that he would at once join the army, that it appeared to him that either he had told the coachman about it, or that the coachman ought to have known it.

Upon reaching home, Pierre informed his all-knowing coachman, Evstdfevich, who could do almost anything and whom all Moscow knew, that he was going to leave in the evening for Mozhàysk, in order to join the army, and ordered him to send his mounts to him there. All this could not be done in a day, and so, at the representations of Evstäfevich, Pierre had to put off his departure till the next day, so as to give the teams a chance to start out on the road.

On the 24th it cleared up after some bad weather, and in the afternoon Pierre left Moscow. In the night, while changing horses at Perkhushkovo, Pierre learned that during that evening a great battle had been fought. He was told that the earth had trembled there, at Perkhushkovo, from the reports of the guns. To his questions who had won, no one was able to give any answer. (It was the battle of the 24th at Shevardind.) At daybreak Pierre drove up to Mozhäysk.

All the houses of Mozhdysk had troops quartered in them, and at the tavern, where Pierre was met by his groom and coachman, there was no room in the house: every available space was occupied by officers.

In Mozhaysk and beyond Mozhâysk stood and marched the troops. Cossacks, footsoldiers, cavalrymen, wagons, caissons, ordnance were seen on all sides. Pierre hastened to drive ahead as fast as possible, and the farther he left Moscow behind him, and the deeper he penetrated into this sea of troops, the more he was seized by alarm and by an unfamiliar new sensation. It was similar to the sensation which he had experienced in the Slobddski palace during the appearance of the emperor, a feeling that it was necessary to undertake something and to make sacrifices. He now experienced the agreeable consciousness

that everything which formed the happiness of man, the comforts of life, wealth, even life itself, was nonsense, which it was a joy to give up in comparison with something— with what, Pierre could not tell, nor could he make it clear to himself for whom and for what he found it so charming to sacrifice everything. He was not interested in that for which he wanted to make the sacrifices, but the sacrifice itself afforded him a novel, pleasurable sensation.

XIX.

On the 24th took place the battle at the redoubt of Shevardind ; on the 25th not one shot was fired on either side ; on the 26th the battle of Borodind was fought.

Why and how were the battles given and accepted at Shevardind and at Borodind ? Why was the battle of Borodind fought? Neither for the French nor for the Russians did it have the least significance. The most immediate result of it was, and had to be : for the Russians, that we got nearer to the ruin of Moscow (of which we were afraid more than of anything in the world), and for the French, that they came nearer to the ruin of their whole army (of which they, too, were afraid more than of anything in the world). This result was quite evident then, and yet Napoleon gave, and Kutuzov accepted, this battle.

If the generals had been guided by reason, Napoleon, it seems, ought to have seen clearly that, in advancing more than two thousand versts and accepting battle with the probable outcome of losing one-fourth of his army, he was marching to his certain ruin ; and it should have appeared just as clear to Kutuzov that by accepting the battle and himself risking the loss of one-fourth of his army, he certainly would lose Moscow. For Kutuzov this was mathematically clear, just as it is clear that if in a game of chess I have one piece less and make an exchange, I shall certainly lose, and that therefore I must make no even exchange.

When my antagonist has sixteen pieces, and I only

fourteen, I am only one-eighth weaker than he ; but when I exchange thirteen pieces, he will be three times as strong as I.

Up to the battle of Borodino, our forces stood in relation to those of the French approximately as five to six, and after the battle as one to two, that is, before the battle as 100,000 to 120,000, and after the battle as 50,000 to 100,000. And yet clever and experienced Kutuzov accepted the battle. Napoleon, on the contrary, the gifted general, as he is called, gave a battle in which he lost one-fourth of his army, and thus stretched his lines even farther than before. If it shall be said that by taking Moscow he expected to finish the campaign, as he had done in the case of Vienna, we can adduce many arguments against it. The historians of Napoleon themselves say that he wanted to stop soon after Smolénsk, that he knew the danger of his extended position and that the capturing of Moscow would not be the end of the campaign, because from Smolénsk on he saw in what condition the Russian cities were left to him, and because he did not receive a single answer to his repeated declarations that he wished to carry on negotiations.

In giving and accepting the battle of Borodiné, Kutuzov and Napoleon acted independently of their wills and senselessly. But the historians later subordinated the accomplished facts to cleverly concocted arguments about the foresight and genius of the generals, who of all the involuntary tools of the world’s events were the most slavish and involuntary of actors.

The ancients have left us examples of heroic poems, in which the heroes form the whole interest of history, and we have not yet been able to get used to the idea that for our human times such history has no meaning.

To the other question of how the battle of Borodino and the preceding battle of Shevardino were given there is an extremely false conception, just as definite and well known. All the historians describe the affair in the following manner:

The Russian army in retreating from Smolénsk was looking for the best possible position for a general battle, and such a position it found at Borodino.

The Russians had fortified this position in advance on the left of the road (from Moscow to Smolensk), almost at a right angle with it, from Borodino to Ùtitsa in the very place ‘ where the battle took place.

In front of this position was placed the fortified outpost on the Shevardino Mound, in order to keep watch on the enemy. On the 24th Napoleon attacked the outpost and took it ; on the 26th he attacked the whole Russian army, which occupied its position on the field of Borodino.

Thus the histories tell, but it is quite untrue, and anybody may convince himself so, who wants to acquaint himself with the facts in the case.

The Russians had not been looking for a better position, but, on the contrary, in their retreating passed many positions which were better than the one at Borodino. They did not stop at any of these positions, because Kutuzov did not wish to accept a position which he did not choose, and because the demand for a national battle had not yet found sufficient expression, and because Milorédovich had not yet joined him with his militia, and for innumerable other reasons. It is a fact that the former positions had been stronger, and that the position at Borodiné (where the battle was given) was not only not strong, but for some reason was no more of a position than any other spot in the Russian Empire, at which one might point on a map at haphazard with a pin.

The Russians not only had not fortified the position of the field of Borodiné, on the left, at a right angle with the road (that is, the place where the battle actually took place), but they had even never thought before the 25th of August of the year 1812 that the battle would take place on that spot. This is proved by the fact that there were no fortifications there before the 25th, and that those which were begun on the 25th and 26th were never finished ; secondly, as to the location of the Shevardino redoubt : it has no meaning in front of the position where the battle was accepted. Why was this redoubt fortified more strongly than any other point ? And why were all efforts exhausted on the 24th in defending it until late at night, with a loss of six thousand men ? A Cossack patrol would have been sufficient to keep watch on the enemy. In the third place, a further proof that the position where the battle took place had not been foreseen and that the Shevardind redoubt was not the advance point of this position is found in the fact that Barclay de Tolly and Bagration were convinced until the 25 th that the Shevardind redoubt was the left flank of the position, and that Kutuzov himself, in his report written just after the battle, called the Shevardind redoubt the left flank of the position. Only much later, when the reports on the battle of Borodind were written at leisure, they invented (no doubt, in order to explain away the blunder of the commanderin-chief, who was supposed to be impeccable) that unjust and strange declaration that the Shevardind redoubt served as an advance post (whereas it was only a fortified point of the left flank), and that the battle of Borodind was accepted by us in a fortified position, chosen in advance, although it took place in an entirely unexpected and almost unfortified place.

The matter obviously was like this: the position had been chosen along the river Koldcha, which cuts the highway not at a right, but at an oblique angle, so that the left flank was at Shevardind, the right near Ndvoe Selo, and the centre at Borodind, at the confluence of the rivers Koldcha and Vdyna. This position, protected by the river Koldcha, for an army whose purpose it was to stop the enemy who was moving on the Smolensk road to Moscow, is manifest to any one who will look at the field of Borodind, forgetting how the battle actually took place.

Napoleon, who on the 24th rode up to Valuevo, did not see (as histories tell) the position of the Russians from Utitsa to Borodind (he could not see it, because it did not exist) ; nor did he see the outpost of the Russian army, but, in pursuing the Russian rear-guard to the left flank of the Russian position, he came upon the Shevardind redoubt and unexpectedly to the Russians took his army across the Koldcha. The Russians, having had no time to give a general battle, retreated with their left flank from the position which they had intended to occupy, and took up a new position, which had not been foreseen and was not fortified. Passing over to the left of the Koldcha and to the left of the road, Napoleon shifted the whole future battle from the right to the left (from the standpoint of the Russians), and transferred it to the field between Utitsa, Semdnovskoe, and Borodind (to that field which presented no other advantages of position than any other field in Russia), and on that field took place the battle of the 26th. In a rude form the plan of the proposed battle and of the actual battle will be as follows :

If Napoleon had not ridden out on the evening of the 24th to the Koldcha, and had not ordered an attack on the redoubt that very evening, but had begun the attack on the following morning, no one would have doubted that the Shevardind redoubt was the left flank of our position, and the battle would have taken place as we had expected it. In this case we should have defended more stubbornly still the Shevardind redoubt, which was our left flank : we should have attacked Napoleon at the centre or on the right, and on the 24th would have taken place the general battle in the position which had been fortified and foreseen. But since the attack on our left flank took place in the evening, soon after the retreat of

our rear-guard, that is, immediately after the battle at Gridneva, and since the Russian generals did not wish, or were not yet prepared, to begin the general battle on the evening of the 24th, the first and chief action of the tion on the left flank and were placed under the necessity of deflecting our left wing and hastily fortifying it wherever it happened to be.

battle of Borodind was lost on the 24th, and obviously led to the loss of the one which was given on the 26th.

After the loss of the Shevardind redoubt, toward the morning of the 25th, we found ourselves without a posi

Not only did the Russian troops stand on August 26th under the protection of weak, unfinished fortifications, but the disadvantage of their position was increased by the fact that the Russian military leaders, without fully recognizing the accomplished fact (the loss of the position on the left flank and the transference of the whole future field of battle from the right to the left),z remained in their extended position from Ndvoe Selo to Utitsa, and, in consequence of this, were compelled during the battle to move their troops from the right to the left. Thus, the Russians had, during the whole battle, only half as strong forces opposed to the French army, which was directed against pur left wing. (The actions of Poniatowski against Utitsa and of Uvärov on the right flank of the French formed separate actions in the whole course of the battle.)

Thus, the battle of Borodind took place quite differently from the way it is described (in the attempt to conceal the blunders of our military leaders, thus minimizing the glory of the Russian army and people). The battle of Borodind did not take place in a chosen and fortified position with slightly weaker forces on the side of the Russians, but, on account of the loss of the Shevardind redoubt, was accepted by the Russians in an open, almost unfortified locality, with forces only half as strong as those commanded by the French, that is, under conditions under which it was unthinkable to fight for ten hours and make the battle undecisive, or even to preserve the army for three hours from absolute annihilation and flight.

XX.

On the 25th, Pierre drove out of Mozhaysk. On the incline of a very steep and crooked hill, which led out of the city, past a cathedral on the right, in which service was being held and bells were ringing, Pierre climbed out of his carriage and went on foot. Back of him a regiment of cavalry, with singers in front, was coming down the hill. Toward him ascended a train of carts with the men wounded in the engagement of the day before. The peasant drivers, shouting to their horses and cracking their whips, kept running from one side to another. The carts, in each of which three or four wounded men were lying or sitting, jolted against the cobblestones of the pavement along the steep incline. The wounded, bandaged with rags, pale, with compressed lips and knit brows, holding on to the rounds of the carts, were jolted and knocked against each other in the carts. Nearly all looked with naïve, childish curiosity at Pierre’s white hat and green dress coat.

Pierre’s coachman shouted angrily at the convoy of the wounded to keep to one side. The regiment of cavalry, descending the hill with songs, pressed against Pierre’s carriage and took up the whole road. Pierre stopped, pressing against the wall which the hill formed at the roadside. The sun did not reach that spot on account of a jutting ledge, and it was cold and damp there ; overhead was a bright August morning, and the ringing of the bells sounded merry. One team with wounded soldiers stopped

The soldier with the swollen cheek looked angrily at the singers.

« Oh, what dudes ! ” he said, reproachfully.

” I have seen not only soldiers, but even peasants to-day ! They are driving even the peasants,” said the soldier who was standing behind the cart, turning to Pierre, with a sad smile. “They don’t make any distinction now— They want to press forward with the whole nation, in short, it is Moscow. They want to make an end of it.”

In spite of the indistinctness of the soldier’s words, Pierre understood everything he wanted to say, and nodded his head approvingly.

The road was cleared, and Pierre went down-hill and drove on. Pierre kept looking on both sides of the road, trying to discover familiar faces, and meeting only with unfamiliar, military faces from all kinds of regiments, who looked with equal surprise at his white hat and green dress coat.

After journeying for about four versts, he met his first acquaintance, and he cheerfully addressed him. This acquaintance was one of the chief physicians of the army. He was travelling in a small vehicle toward Pierre, sitting beside a young doctor. Upon recognizing Pierre, he stopped his Cossack, who was sitting on the box in the place of a coachman.

” Count ! Your Serenity, how did you get here ? ” asked the doctor.

” I just wanted to see — ”

“Yes, yes, there will be something to see — “

Pierre got out of his carriage and, stopping, spoke with the doctor, to whom he expressed his intention of taking part in the battle.

The doctor advised Bezukhi to go straight to his Most Serene Highness.

“ What is the use of being in some forgotten place during the battle,” he said, exchanging a glance with his young companion, “ when his Most Serene Highness knows you and will receive you favourably. Do this, my friend,” said the doctor.

The doctor looked weary, and as though in a hurry to get away.

“You think so?— I wanted to ask you where the position is,” said Pierre.

“ The position ? ” said the doctor. ” That is not my department. When you cross Tatärinovo, you will see them digging there a great deal. Walk up the mound, and you will see from there,” said the doctor.

“ Is it visible from there ? If you — ”

But the doctor interrupted him, and moved up on his seat.

“ I should like to take you there, but, upon my word ” (the doctor pointed to his throat), “ I am galloping to the commander of the corps. You know how it is ! Tomorrow there will be a battle. Out of the one hundred thousand men, at least twenty thousand will be wounded ; and we have no stretchers, no cots, no assistants, no doctors for more than six thousand. We have ten thousand carts, but something else, too, is needed ; do as you please — ”

The strange thought that out of the thousands of sound, living men, both young and old, who were looking at his hat in joyful surprise, there were some twenty thousand who were certainly doomed to wounds and death (maybe the same that he now saw), staggered him.

” They will perhaps die tomorrow, so why do they think of anything else but death ? ” and suddenly, by a mysterious affiliation of ideas, he saw vividly before him the slope of the Mozhaysk hill, the carts with the wounded, the slanting rays of the sun, and heard the ringing of the bells and the singing of the cavalrymen.

“ The cavalrymen are on their way to a battle and meet the wounded, and yet they do not stop for a moment to think of what is in store for them, but ride by and wink to the wounded men. And there are twenty thousand of these who are destined to die, and they marvel at my hat ! It is terrible ! ” thought Pierre, proceeding on his way to Tatdrinovo.

In front of a landed proprietor’s house, on the left of the road, stood carriages, wagons, crowds of orderlies, and guards. Here his Most Serene Highness was stationed. But when Pierre arrived there he was not in, and there was hardly any one of the staff there. They were all in church attending prayers. Pierre drove on to Gorki.

Driving up the hill and into the short village street, Pierre saw for the first time the peasant militia with crosses on their caps and in white shirts, who, with loud conversation and laughter, animated and perspiring, were working at something on the right of the road, on an immense grass-covered mound.

Some of them were digging up the hill with spades, others were taking the dirt away in wheelbarrows over planks, while others again stood and did nothing.

Two officers were standing on the mound and giving them orders. Upon seeing these peasants, who evidently were still enjoying their new military duties, Pierre again thought of the wounded soldiers at Mozhaysk, and it became clear to him what the soldier had meant to convey when he said, ” They want to press forward with the whole nation.” The sight of these bearded peasants working in the field, with their odd, clumsy boots, their sweaty necks, their slanting shirt-openings, unbuttoned here and there, so that beneath them could be seen their sunburnt shoulder-bones, acted on Pierre more powerfully than all he had heard and seen heretofore about the solemnity and significance of the present moment.

XXI.

Pierre got out of his carriage, and, passing the working militiamen, ascended the hill, from which, as the doctor had said, could be seen the field of battle.

It was eleven o’clock in the morning. The sun stood a little to the left and back of Pierre and, through the clear, rarefied air, illuminated the panorama which lay before him in the form of an amphitheatre.

In the upper part of this amphitheatre, and to the left, meandered, cutting it, the Smolénsk highway, which went through a village with a large church, within five hundred steps in front of the mound and below it (this was Borodin<5). The road went past this village over a bridge and, over slopes and hills, wound higher and higher to the village of Valuevo, which could be seen about six versts distant, and where Napoleon was now stationed. Beyond Valuevo the road disappeared in a yellowing forest on the horizon. In this forest, composed of birch and fir trees, toward the right of the general direction of the road there glistened in the sun the distant cross and bell-tower of the Koldcha monastery. In all this azure vista, to the right and left of the woods and road, the smoky camp-fires and indefinable masses of our troops and of those of the enemy could be seen in various places. To the right, along the beds of the Koldcha and the Moskvd, the locality was precipitous and mountainous. In the ravines thus formed, the villages of Bezzubovo and Zakhdrino could be seen in the distance. Toward the left the ground was more level; there were grain-fields there, and one could see a smoking, burnt-down village, Seménovskoe.

Everything which Pierre saw to the right and left was so indefinite, that neither the left nor the right side of the field entirely satisfied his expectations. Everywhere there was not a field of battle, such as he had expected to see, but fields, clearings, troops, forests, camp-fire smokes, villages, mounds, brooks, and, no matter how much he tried, he was unable to find such a thing as positions, and could not even distinguish our troops from those of the enemy.

” I must ask some one who knows,” he thought, and he turned to an officer, who was looking with curiosity at his unsoldierly, immense figure.

” Permit me to ask you,” Pierre turned to the officer, ” what village is this in front of us ? ”

” Burdind, or something like it,” said the officer, turning with a question to his companion.

” Borodind,” the other corrected him.

The officer, evidently happy to have a chance to talk, moved up toward Pierre.

” Are our men there ? ” asked Pierre.

“Yes, and over there are the French,” said the officer. ” There they are, over there ! You can see them ! ”

” Where, where ? ” asked Pierre.

“ You can see them with the naked eye. There.” The officer showed him with his hand the smoke which could be seen on the left, beyond the river, and on his face appeared that stem and serious expression which Pierre had seen on many countenances which he had met.

“Oh, those are the French! And there?” Pierre pointed to the left at a mound, near which troops were visible.

“ Those are our men.”

“ Oh, ours ! And there ? ” Pierre pointed to another, a distant mound, with a large tree near a village, which could be seen in the gorge, and near which camp-fires were burning and something black was looming up.

“ This is again he” said the officer. (It was the Shevardind redoubt.) “ Yesterday it was ours, but now it is his.”

“ Where, then, is our position ? ”

“ Position ? ” said the officer, with a smile of satisfaction. “ I can tell you that exactly, because I have built all our fortifications. You see, our centre is at Borodind, over there.” lie pointed to a village with a white church, which was in front of them. ” Here is the ford across the Koldcha. Over there, you see, where the rows of mowed grass are still lying in the meadow, is the bridge. That is our centre. Our right flank is over there ” (he pointed abruptly to the right, far into the ravine), “ there is the Moskvd Biver, and there we have constructed three powerful redoubts. The left flank — ” here the officer stopped. “ You see, this is hard to explain to you — Yesterday our left flank was over there, at Shevardind, over there where you see the oak ; now we have drawn back the left wing, — over there you see the village and the smoke, — that is Seménovskoe, and over here,” he pointed to Baévski’s Mound. “ But I doubt whether the battle will take place here. His having taken the troops over here is only a ruse ; he will, no doubt, go around on the right of the Moskva. Wherever it may be, we shall miss a good many tomorrow,” said the officer.

An old under-officer, who had approached the officer during his explanation, waited in silence for his superior to finish speaking; but at this juncture, he, apparently dissatisfied with the words of the officer, interrupted him.

“ We must go for the gabions,” he said, sternly.

The officer seemed to be embarrassed, as though he understood that it was proper to think that many would be missed on the following day, but that it was not proper to speak of it.

” All right, send the third company again for them,” hurriedly said the officer.

“ And who are you ? One of the doctors ? “

« No, I am just looking on,” said Pierre. And Pierre went down-hill, again past the militiamen.

« Ah, the accursed ones ! ” said the officer, who was following 1dm, putting his fingers to his nose and running past the workmen.

« There they are ! — They are carrying it — They are coming — Here they are — They will be here in a minute,” several voices were suddenly heard exclaiming, and the officers, soldiers, and militiamen ran ahead, along the road.

Up the hill from Borodind ascended the church procession. In front, the infantry marched in parade order along the dusty road, with bared heads and reversed arms. Behind the infantry could be heard church singing.

Soldiers and militiamen, without their caps, ran past Pierre, to meet the procession.

« They are carrying the Virgin ! The protectress ! The Virgin of the Tver Church ! “

” The Virgin of Smolensk,” somebody corrected him.

The militiamen, both those who were in the village and those who were working in the battery, threw away their spades and ran toward the church procession. Back of the battalion, which was marching on the dusty road, marched the clergy in vestments, an old man in a cowl, accompanied by the ministrants and the choir. Behind him soldiers and officers carried a large, black-faced image, surrounded by gold foil. It was the image which had been taken away from Smolénsk, and which since then had been following the army. Back of the image, all around it, in front of it, on all sides, bareheaded groups of military men were walking, running, and making low obeisances.

Upon reaching the summit, the image stopped ; the men who had carried the image on canvas were relieved by another set ; the sextons again lighted the incense, and the Te Deum began. The hot rays of the sun beat down vertically ; a faint, fresh breeze played with the hair of the bared heads and with the ribbons with which the image was adorned ; the singing resounded softly in the open. An enormous mass of officers, soldiers, and militiamen, baring their heads, surrounded the image. Back of the priest and the sexton, on a cleared place, stood the notabilities. A bald-headed general, with the cross of St. George on his neck, was standing directly behind the priest’s back and, without crossing himself (apparently he was a German) was impatiently waiting for the end of the Te Deum, which he considered it necessary to listen to, no doubt in order to rouse the patriotism of the Russian nation. Another general stood in a soldierly attitude and, swaying his hand in front of his chest, was surveying the crowd in front of him. In this circle of notabilities, Pierre, who was standing among a group of peasants, recognized several acquaintances ; but he did not look at them ; his whole attention was absorbed in watching the serious expression of the faces in this crowd of soldiers and militiamen, who were looking at the image with equal eagerness. The moment the weary sextons (who were singing the twentieth Te Deum) began to sing in an indolent and habitual voice, “ Mother of God, save Thy slaves from calamity,” and the priest and deacon proceeded, ” for we all in God have recourse to Thee, as an indestructible wall and protection,” there burst forth on all the faces the consciousness of the solemnity of the impending moment, the same which he had observed at the foot of the hill in Mozhàysk, and occasionally on many, many faces which he had seen on that morning, and the heads were lowered oftener and oftener, the hair fluttered, and there were heard sobs and the striking of crosses against the breast.

The throng which surrounded the image suddenly opened up and pressed against Pierre. Somebody, evidently a distinguished personage, to judge from the haste with which the men stepped aside, was walking over to the image.

It was Kutuzov, who had been examining the position. On his way back to TatLrinovo he went up to hear the Te Deum. Pierre immediately recognized Kutuzov from Iris peculiar figure, which distinguished him from all the rest.

In his long coat over an extremely fat body, with stooping shoulders, white unbared head, and white, maimed eye in a puffed-up face, Kutuzov, with his ducking and waddling gait, entered the circle and took up his position back of the priest. He made the customary sign of the cross, reached the ground with his hand, and, heaving a deep sigh, lowered his gray head. Back of Kutuzov was Bénigsen and the suite. In spite of the presence of the commanderin-chief, who attracted the attention of all the higher ranks, the militiamen and soldiers, without looking at him, continued to pray.

When the Te Deum was over, Kutuzov went up to the image, heavily sunk down on his knees, bowing to the ground, and for a long time tried vainly to overcome his weight and feebleness while rising. His gray head twitched in the effort. Finally he got up and with a childishly naïve puckering of the lips kissed the image and again made an obeisance, while touching the ground with his hand. The generals followed his example ; then the officers, and after them, crowding each other, stepping on each other’s feet, gasping and nudging, with agitated faces, the soldiers and militiamen made their way to the image.

XXII.

Swaying in the crush, in which he was caught, Pierre looked around him.

” Count, Pierre Kinllych ! How did you get here ? ” somebody exclaimed.

Pierre looked around. Boris Drubetskdy, brushing with his hands the knees which he had soiled (apparently he, too, had kissed the image), walked over to Pierre, with a smile. Boris was elegantly dressed, with a shade of campaign militarism. He wore a long coat and a whip over bis shoulder, just as Kutuzov carried his.

In the meantime Kutuzov went up to the village and sat down in the shade of the nearest house on a bench, which a Cossack had darted away to bring, and which another quickly covered with a rug. An enormous, brilliant suite surrounded the commanderin-chief.

The image moved on, accompanied by the throng. Pierre stopped within thirty paces of Kutuzov, talking all the time with Bons.

Pierre explained to him his intention of taking part in the battle and examining the position.

” Do like this,” said Boris. ” Je vous ferai les honneurs du camp. You will see everything best from a place where Count Bénigsen will be. I am attached to him. I will report to him. If you wish to take in the position, come along with us : we shall ride out to the left flank at once. Then we shall return, and I beg you to stay with me overnight. We will have a party. You are acquainted with Dmitri Sergyéich, are you not ? He stays over there,” he pointed to the third house in Gdrki.

« But I should like to see the right flank. They say that it is very strong,” said Pierre. ” I should like to ride down from the Moskvd River and see the whole position.”

“ That you can do later, but the main thing is the left flank — ”

“ Yes, yes. And can’t you show me where the regiment of Prince Bolkonski is ? ” asked Pierre.

” Of Andréy Nikolaevich ? We shall pass it, and I will take you to him.”

” What about the left flank ? ” asked Pierre.

” To tell you the truth, entre nous, our left flank is God knows in what condition,” said Boris, confidentially, lowering his voice. “Count Bénigsen had intended something quite different. He had intended to fortify that mound over yonder, and in a different way — but,” Boris shrugged his shoulders, “ his Most Serene Highness did not want to, or somebody dissuaded him. You know — ” Boris did not finish his sentence, because just then Kaysarov, Kutuzov’s adjutant, went up to Pierre. “ Ah, Paisi Sergyéich ! ” said Boris, turning to Kaysarov with an easy smile. ” I am trying to explain the position to the count. It is remarkable how his Most Serene Highness could have so well guessed the intentions of the French.”

” Are you speaking of the left flank ? ” asked Kaysarov.

“ Yes, yes, precisely. Our left flank is now very, very strong.”

Although Kutuzov drove all superfluous people out of the staff, Boris, after the changes produced by Kutuzov, had managed to hold his position at the headquarters. Boris found a place with Count Bénigsen. Count Bénigsen, like all the men to whom Boris had been attached, regarded the young Prince Drubetskdy as a priceless man.

In the command of the army there were two distinct, diametrically opposed parties : that of Kutuzov, and that of Bénigsen, the chief of the staff. Boris was attached to this latter party, and no one knew so well how to lavish expressions of servile respect for Kutuzov and, at the same time, to give it to be understood that the old man was unimportant, and that the whole business was carried on by Bénigsen. In any case, as the result of the engagement of the following day great rewards would be distributed and new men would be brought forward. For this reason Boris had been in a state of irritable animation on that day.

After Kaysarov, other acquaintances came up to see Pierre, and he had scarcely time to answer all the questions about Moscow, with which they overwhelmed him, and to hear all the stories which they told him. But it seemed to Pierre that the cause of the agitation which was expressed on the countenances of some of them lay more in the questions of personal success, and he could not forget that other expression of agitation which he had seen on other faces, and which spoke not of personal interests, but of the general interests of life and death. Kutuzov noticed Pierre’s figure and the group which was collected about him.

” Call him to me,” said Kutuzov.

An adjutant transmitted the wish of his Most Serene Highness, and Pierre walked over to the bench. But before he reached it, a militiaman of the rank and file went up to Kutuzov. It was Ddlokhov.

“ What is this man doing here ? ” asked Pierre.

“ He is the kind of a beast that will get through any place ! ” was the reply given to Pierre. ” He has been degraded. Now he has to bob up. He has submitted some projects, and in the night he has gone to the enemy’s outposts — but he is a brave fellow ! “

Pierre took off his hat and respectfully bowed to Kutuzov.

“ I decided that if I had myself announced to your Most Serene Highness, you would send me away or would tell me that you knew already what I had to report, and then I could not come again — ” said Dolokhov.

” Yes, yes ! “

” And if I am right, I shall be useful to my country, for which I am prepared to die.”

” Yes, yes ! ”

” And if your Serenity needs a man who will not spare his hide, I beg you to think of me. I may be of some use to your Serenity.”

” Yes, yes,” repeated Kutuzov, looking at Pierre with a smiling, narrowing eye.

Just then Boris, with his courtier agility, moved out with Pierre in the neighbourhood of the authorities, and in the most natural manner possible and softly, as though continuing a conversation, said to Pierre :

“The militiamen have put on clean white shirts, to prepare themselves for death. What heroism, count ! ”

Boris said this obviously in order to be heard by his Most Serene Highness. He knew that Kutuzov would listen to these words, and, indeed, his Most Serene Highness turned to him :

“What are you saying there about the militia?” he asked Boris.

” Your Highness, they have put on white shirts, to prepare themselves for the morrow, for death.”

” Ah ! Charming, rare people ! ” said Kutuzov, and, closing his eyes, he shook his head. “ Rare people ! ” he repeated, with a sigh.

“ You want to smell powder ? ” he said to Pierre. ” Yes, it is a pleasant odour. I have the honour of being an admirer of your wife, — is she well ? My halting-place is at your service.” And, as often is the case with old men, Kutuzov began to look around absent-mindedly, as though forgetting everytliing which it was necessary for him to say or do.

Apparently recalling what he had been looking for, he beckoned to Andréy Sergyéich Kaysdrov, his adjutant’s brother, to come up to him.

“ How, how, how do Marin’s verses, written on Ge-rakov, run ? How ? ‘ In the academy a teacher.’ Say them, say them to me,” said Kutuzov, evidently getting ready to have a laugh.

Kaysdrov recited the verses. Kutuzov, smiling, nodded his head to keep time with them.

As Pierre walked away from Kutuzov, Dolokhov, moving up to him, took his hand.

“ I am very glad to meet you here, count,” he said aloud to him and without being embarrassed by the presence of strangers, speaking with especial determination and solemnity. ” On the eve of the day, when God knows who of us will be left alive, I am glad to have a chance to tell you that I am sorry for those misunderstandings which have existed between us, and I wish you would have nothing against me. I beg you to forgive me.”

Pierre, smiling, looked at Dolokhov. Dolokhov, with tears appearing in his eyes, embraced and kissed Pierre.

Boris said something to his general, and Count Bénigsen turned to Pierre and invited him to ride down with him along the Une.

” It will be interesting for you,” he said.

” Yes, very interesting,” said Pierre.

Half an hour later Kutuzov left for Tatarinovo, and Bénigsen with his suite, among whom was also Pierre, rode down the line.

XXIII.

From Gérki Bénigsen descended the highway to the bridge, which the officer had indicated to Pierre from the mound, as the centre of the position, and near which rows of mown grass with the odour of new hay were lying on the bank. They rode over the bridge to the village of Borodind, where they turned to the left and passed an enormous quantity of troops and ordnance, and rode up to a high mound, on which the militia were digging the earth. It was a redoubt, which had not yet a name, but which later received the name of the Raévski redoubt or the Mound Battery.

Pierre paid no especial attention to this redoubt. He did not know that this place would be more memorable to him than all the other spots of the field at Borodino. Then they crossed the ravine and reached Seménovskoe, where the soldiers were dragging away the last logs from the houses and grain kilns. Then, down and up hill, they passed through some rye which was knocked down and broken, as though struck by hail, along a road which the artillery had just made over the lumps of a newly ploughed field, toward the flèches winch were still in process of construction.

Bénigsen stopped on the flèches and began to look ahead at the Shevardind redoubt, which but the day before had been ours, and on which he now saw several riders. The officers said that it was Napoleon himself or Murat. All looked eagerly at that group of mounted men. Pierre, too, looked in that direction, essaying to divine which one of those barely visible men was Napoleon. Finally the riders descended from the mound and disappeared.

Bénigsen turned to a general who had come up to him and began to explain to him the whole position of our troops. Pierre listened to Bénigsen’s words, straining all his mental powers in order to comprehend the whole essence of the impending battle, but he felt with bitterness that his mental powers were not sufficient for it. He did not understand a thing. Bénigsen quit talking, and, noticing the figure of attentive Pierre, he suddenly turned to him and said :

” This, I suppose, is not interesting to you.”

” On the contrary, it is ver)- interesting,” Pierre said, not quite honestly.

From the flèches they rode along the road, still more to the left, which wound through a dense young birch forest. In the middle of this forest a cinnamon-coloured, white-legged rabbit leaped out on the road in front of them, and, frightened by the trample of a large number of horses, became so confused that it kept running along the road in front of the riders, rousing their general attention and laughter, and only when several voices shouted at it did it take to the bushes at the sides and disappear in the thicket. Having ridden about two versts through the forest, they rode out into a clearing, where stood the troops of Tuchkév’s corps, which was to defend the left flank.

Here, on the extreme left of the flank, Bénigsen spoke much and with animation, and gave some orders which, as Pierre thought, were very important from a military point of view. In front of the position of Tuchkév’s troops there was an eminence. This was not occupied by any troops. Bénigsen loudly criticised this mistake, saying that it was senseless to leave unoccupied a commanding height and to place the troops at the foot of it.

Several generals expressed the same opinion. One especially spoke with military ardour about having been placed there for slaughter. Bénigsen ordered in his own name the troops moved up the height.

This disposition on the left flank made Pierre still more doubt his ability to understand matters of war. As he listened to Bénigsen and to the generals, who condemned the position of the troops at the foot of the hill, Pierre fully comprehended them and shared their opinion ; but for this very reason he was unable to understand how the one who had placed them there at the foot of the hill could have made such a palpable and coarse blunder.

Pierre did not know that these troops had not been stationed there for the defence of the position, as Bénigsen thought, but for the sake of a concealed ambush, that is, in order that they might remain unnoticed and could suddenly strike the advancing enemy. Bénigsen did not know it, and moved up the troops according to Iris own combinations, without saying anything to the commanderin-chief about it.

XXIV.

Prince Andréy, on that clear August evening of the 25th, lay, leaning on his arm, in a broken shed of the village of Knyàzkovo, on the edge of the position of his regiment. Through the opening of the shattered wall he was looking at a strip of thirty-year-old birches running down the fence, with their lower branches lopped off, at the field with its demolished oat-ricks, and at the shrubbery along which could be seen the smoke rising from the camp-fires, — the soldier kitchens.

No matter how narrow, useless, and hard his life appeared to him, he, just as seven years before at Austerhtz, felt agitated and irritated on the eve of the battle.

The orders for the next day’s battle had been given and received by him. There was nothing else to do. But the simplest, clearest, and, therefore, the most terrible thoughts gave him no rest. He knew that the impending battle was to be the most terrible of all in winch he had taken part, and the possibility of death for the first time in his life vividly, almost with certainty, clearly and terribly presented itself to his soul, without any relation to vital interest, without any reflection as to the effect it would have upon others, but only in relation to himself. And from the height of this perception that which formerly had tormented and interested him suddenly was illuminated by a cold white light, without shadows, without perspective, without distinction of contours. His whole life presented itself to him like a magic lantern, into which he had long looked through a glass and under artificial illumination. Now he suddenly saw these badly painted pictures without a glass, and in the bright daylight.

“ Yes, yes, there they are, those false images that have agitated and delighted and vexed me,” he said to himself, rummaging in his imagination through the chief pictures of Ins magic lantern of life, looking at them in this cold white light of day, the clear thought of death. ” There they are, those coarsely drawn figures, which have seemed so beautiful and so mysterious. Glory, the common good, love of woman, the fatherland itself, — how great these pictures did appear to me ! How filled with deep meaning! And all this is so simple, so pale and coarse in the cold white light of the morning which, I feel sure, is breaking for me.” Three chief sorrows of his life in particular arrested his attention : his love of a woman, the death of his father, and the French invasion, which now embraced half of Russia. ” Love ! That girl who seemed to me to be filled with some mysterious powers ! Really ! I loved her, and I made poetic plans of love and of happiness with her. — Oh, dear boy ! ” he suddenly exclaimed in anger. ” Of course ! I believed in some kind of an ideal love, which was to have preserved her faithfulness to me for a whole year of my absence. Like the gentle dove of the fable, she was to pine away for me during our separation. But it is all much simpler — It is all terribly simple and abominable !

” My father, too, built in Lÿsyya Gory, thinking that it was his place, his lands, his air, his peasants; but Napoleon came and, not knowing of his existence, pushed him off the road like a chip, and his Lÿsyya G6ry and his whole life went to pieces. Princess Mérya says that it is all a trial sent from above. What is the trial for, since he is and will be no longer? He will never be again ! He is gone. For whom, then, is this trial ? The fatherland, the ruin of Moscow ! Tomorrow I shall be killed, — not by a Frenchman even, but by a Russian, just as yesterday a soldier discharged a gun near my very ear, and the French will come, will take me by my feet and head, and will pitch me into a ditch that I may not smell under their very noses, and new conditions of life will arise, which will be just as natural to others, and I shall not know of them, and I shall be no more.”

He looked at the strip of the birches with their immovable yellow and green leafage and white bark, which glistened in the sun. ” To die — that they should kill me tomorrow — that I should not be — that everything should be, but not I ! ” He vividly presented to himself the absence of himself from this life. And these birches, with their fights and shadows, and these curly clouds, and this smoke from the camp-fires, — all this about him was suddenly transformed for him and appeared something terrible and threatening. A chill ran up his spine. He rose rapidly, went out of the shed, and began to walk around.

Voices were heard behind the shed.

“ Who is there ? ” Prince Andréy asked.

Red-nosed Captain Timdkhin, I)61okhov’s former commander of a company, but now, on account of the scarcity of officers, the commander of a battalion, timidly walked into the shed. An adjutant and the treasurer of the regiment came in after him.

Prince Andréy hurriedly got up, listened to what the officers had to report to him, himself gave them certain orders, and was on the point of dismissing them, when outside of the shed was heard a familiar, lisping voice.

” Que diable ! ” was heard the voice of a man, who had stumbled against something.

Looking out of the shed, Prince Andréy saw Pierre, who was advancing toward him. He had tripped up against a stick and had come very near falling. It displeased Prince Andréy to see people from his circle, especially Pierre, who reminded him of those heavy moments which he had gone through during his last stay in Moscow.

“I declare!” he said. “By what fate? I did not expect you ! “

While he was saying this, his eyes and the expression of his face were more than dry, — there was a hostility in them, and Pierre at once noticed it. He had been approaching the shed in a most agitated condition of soul, but, when he saw the expression on Prince Andréy’s countenance, he felt embarrassed and ill at ease.

” I came — you know — I came — it interests me — ” said Pierre, who on that day had so often repeated the word ” interest.” ” I wanted to see a battle.”

“Yes, yes. And what do the brother Masons say about the war? How is it to be avoided?” Prince Andréy said, sarcastically. ” Well, how is Moscow ? How are my people ? Have they, at last, arrived at Moscow ? ” he asked, seriously.

“ They have. Julie Drubetskdy told me so. I went to see them, but did not find them. They had left for the suburban estate.”

XXV.

The officers wanted to bow themselves out, but Prince Andréy, as though wishing not to be left with his friend without witnesses, proposed to them that they should sit down and drink tea. Benches and tea were brought in. The officers not without surprise looked at Pierre’s immense, stout figure, and listened to his stories about Moscow and about the disposition of our troops, which he had had occasion to examine. Prince Andréy was silent, and Ins countenance was so unpleasant that Pierre addressed the good-natured commander of the battalion Timokhin, rather than Bolkénski.

” So you have grasped the whole position of our troops?” Prince Andréy interrupted him.

“Yes, — that is, how?” said Pierre. “Not being a military man, I am unable to say that I have fully comprehended it ; still, I think I understand the general disposition.”

“Eh lien, vous êtes plus avancé que qui que cela soit” said Prince Andréy.

“ Ah ! ” said Pierre, looking in perplexity at Prince Andréy. “ What do you say about Kutuzov’s appointment ? ” he asked.

“ I was very glad to see him appointed, — that is all I know,” said Prince Andréy.

” Well, and tell me what your opinion is about Barclay de Tolly ? In Moscow they have said God knows what about him. “What do you think of him ? ”

” Ask them ! ” said Prince Andréy, pointing to the officers.

Pierre glanced at Timokhin with an inquiring, condescending smile, such as any one instinctively gave him.

” We see light, your Serenity, since his Most Serene Highness has taken his post,” said Timokhin, timidly and constantly looking at the commander of his regiment.

” How so ? ” asked Pierre.

” Take, for example, the question of wood and provender. As we were retreating from Sventsyäny, we were not permitted to touch a stick of wood, or a handful of hay, or anything else. If we do not take it, he will get it, — is it not so, your Serenity ? ” he turned to the prince. ” But no, we must not. Two officers of our regiment were court-martialled for such things. Well, since his Most Serene Highness has taken his post, these matters have become very simple. We see light — “

« Why did he prohibit it ? “

Timokhin looked around in confusion, at a loss what to say to this question. Pierre turned to Prince Andréy with the same question.

” In order not to devastate the country which we were abandoning to the enemy,” Prince Andréy said, with grim sarcasm. ” There was good reason for it : it is not right to allow the troops to pillage the country and thus get used to marauding. In Smolénsk, too, he judged correctly : he figured out that the French could walk around our position, and that they had greater forces. But he could not understand,” Prince Andréy suddenly shouted in a thin voice, as though it had broken loose, ” but he could not understand that it was the first time we were fighting there for the Russian land, that the army was possessed of a spirit such as I had never seen before, that we for two days beat off the French, and that this success increased our strength tenfold. He ordered a retreat, and all the efforts and losses were made in vain. He did not think of treason ; he tried to do everything in the best manner possible, — he reasoned everything out; but for this very reason he is of no use. He is of no use now because he reasons everything out ver)’ thoroughly and accurately, as is proper for a German. How shall I tell you ? Well, your father has a lackey, and he is a fine lackey and gratifies all his wants better than you do, and so it is all right for him to attend your father ; but if your father is dying, or ill, you will send away the lackey, and you will look after him with your own unaccustomed, awkward hands, and you will soothe him better than a skilful stranger can. Precisely this has been done with Barclay. While Russia was well, a stranger could serve it, and he made a nice minister, but the moment she is in danger, she needs a man of her own. In your clubs they have concocted a story about his being a traitor ! Having calumniated him in such a manner, they will later be ashamed of their false accusation, and from a traitor will change him to a hero or genius, which will be more unjust still. He is an honest and very precise German.”

” However, they say that he is a very skilful general,” said Pierre.

” I do not understand what is meant by a ‘ skilful general,’ ” Prince Andréy said, with a smile.

” A skilful general,” said Pierre, ” is one who foresees all eventualities — well, who guesses the thoughts of his adversary.”

“ That is impossible,” said Prince Andréy, as though that were a long settled matter.

Pierre looked at him in surprise.

” Still, they say that a war resembles a chess-board.”

“ Yes,” said Prince Andréy, ” but with this little difference, that at chess you may at every step think as much as you please, and that there you. are outside of the conditions of time, and with this other difference that a knight is always stronger than a pawn, and two pawns are always stronger than one, while in war one battalion is sometimes stronger than a division, and sometimes weaker than a company. The relative strength of troops cannot be known to any one. Believe me,” he said, ” that if anything depended on the dispositions of the staffs, I should be there making dispositions, whereas I have the honour of serving here, in the regiment, with these gentlemen, and I assume that tomorrow will really depend on us, and not on them — Success never has depended, and never will depend, on position, or on equipment, or even on numbers ; but least of all on position.”

” On what, then ? ”

” On that feeling which is in me, in him,” he pointed to Timdkhin, ” in every soldier.”

Prince Andréy looked at Timdkhin, who looked frightened and perplexed at his commander. In distinction to his former reserved taciturnity, Prince Andréy now seemed agitated. Apparently he could not keep from expressing the thoughts which unexpectedly came to him.

” A battle is won by him who has firmly made up his mind to win it. Why did we lose the battle at Austerlitz ? Our losses were almost equal to those of the French, but we very early said to ourselves that we had lost the battle, and so we had. And we said so because we had no business fighting there : we wanted to get away from the field of battle as soon as possible. ‘ We have lost, so we ought to run ! ‘ and we ran. If we had not said so until evening, God knows what would have happened. Tomorrow we will not say so. You say of our position that the left flank is weak, the right flank extended,” he continued, ” but that is all nonsense, — there is nothing of the kind. What awaits us tomorrow ? One hundred millions of the most varied eventualities that will be momentarily decided by their running away, or by the flight of our own men, by killing this one, or that one ; but what is being done now is mere child’s play. The trouble is that not only those with whom you have examined the position, but others too, are not doing anything to further the matter, but only retard it. They are occupied only with their own petty interests.”

“At such a moment?” Pierre said, reproachfully.

« At such a moment” repeated Prince Andréy. « For them it is only a moment when they can undermine the enemy and receive another little cross or ribbon. Let me tell you what I think of tomorrow’s battle. The two armies, the Russian and the French, of one hundred thousand men each, have assembled to fight, and the fact is that these two hundred thousand men are fighting, and those who will fight most grimly and will spare themselves least will be those who will conquer. And, if you wish, I will tell you that, no matter what may happen, no matter how they may mix matters up there, we shall win the battle tomorrow. Tomorrow, happen what may, we shall win the battle ! ”

“ This, your Serenity, is the truth, the gospel truth,” muttered Timokhin. ” Who would think of sparing himself now ? The soldiers in my battalion, will you believe it ? have had no vddka to-day. ‘ This is not the day for it,’ they say.”

All were silent. The officers rose. Prince Andréy went with them back of the shed, giving his last orders to the adjutant. Pierre went up to Prince Andréy and was on the point of beginning a conversation with him, when not far from the shed the trampling of three horses was heard, and, looking in that direction, Prince Andréy recognized Wolzogen with Klausewitz, accompanied by Cossacks. They rode up close, continuing to talk, and Pierre and Andréy involuntarily heard the following sentences :

” Der Krieg muss im Raum verlegt werden. Der Ansicht kann ich nicht genug Preis geben,” said one.

” 0 ja,” said the other, ” der Zweck ist nur den Feind zu schwächen,— so kann man gewiss nicht den Verlust der Privatpersonen in Achtung nehmen.”

” 0 ja,” assented the first voice.

“ Yes, im Raum verlegen ,” Prince Andréy repeated, snorting, as they passed by. “ Im Raum my father, my son, and my sister were left at Lysyya Gory. What does he care ? So you see, it is as I told you. These Germans will not win the battle tomorrow, — they will only make a mess of it as much as they can, because in their German heads there are only considerations which are not worth an empty egg-shell, while in their hearts there is lacking that which is needed tomorrow, and which is in Timokhin. They have given all Europe to him, and have come to teach us, — fine teachers ! ” he shrieked.

” So you think that tomorrow’s battle will be won ? ” asked Pierre.

“Yes, yes!” Prince Andréy replied, absent-mindedly. ” What I would do if I had power,” he began once more, ” would be not to take prisoners. All that nonsense about captives ? Nothing but chivalry. The French have destroyed my house and march to destroy Moscow ; they have insulted me, and insult me every second. They are my enemies, — they are criminals, one and all, according to my ideas. And thus reasoned Timokhin and the whole army. They ought to be executed. If they are my enemies, they cannot be my friends, no matter what they said about it at Tilsit.”

” Yes, yes,” said Pierre, looking at Prince Andréy with sparkling eyes, ” I fully agree with you ! “

The question which had been vexing Pierre the whole day, ever since he had come down from the hill at Mozhaysk, now presented itself to him quite clear and completely solved. He now understood the whole meaning and significance of this war and of the impending battle. Everything he saw on that day, all the significant, stern expressions on the faces, which he had seen in passing, were now illuminated for him by a new light. He now comprehended that latent heat of patriotism, to speak in the language of physics, which was in all those people whom he had seen, and which explained to him why all these men were preparing themselves calmly and, as it were, frivolously for death.

” No captives taken ! ” continued Prince Andréy. ” This alone would change the whole war and would make it less cruel. We have only been playing at war,— that is bad. We are acting the magnanimous persons. This magnanimity and sentimentality is like the magnanimity and sentimentality of the young lady who feels nauseated when she sees some one killing a calf : she is so good that she cannot see blood, but she devours this calf with a relish when it is properly seasoned. We are told about the rights of war, about chivalry, parliamentarism, sparing the unfortunate, and so forth. Nonsense ! I saw chivalry and parliamentarism in 1805: we were cheated, and we cheated ourselves. They pillage the houses of strangers, put in circulation counterfeit assignats, and, what is worse still, they kill my children, my father, and talk about the rules of war and magnanimity to the foe. Take no captives, but kill, or go to a certain death ! He who has come to this, as I have, through suffering — ” Prince Andréy, who had thought that it made no difference to him whether Moscow would be taken like Smolénsk, or not, suddenly stopped in the middle of his speech from the unexpected convulsion which compressed his throat. He walked up and down several times in silence, but his eyes shone feverishly, and his lip quivered, when he began to speak once more.

” If there were no magnanimity in war, we would go into it only when it was worth while to go to a certain death, as in the present case. Then there would be no war because Pdvel Ivdnych had insulted Mikhail Ivdnych. And if it were a war like the present one, it would be a

terrible war. Then the intensiveness of the troops would be different from what it is at present. Then all these Westphalians and Hessians, whom Napoleon is leading, would not follow him into Russia, and we ourselves would not go into Austria or Prussia to fight, not knowing why. War is not a pleasantry, but a very nasty piece of business, and one has to understand it, but not play war. This terrible necessity must be accepted in all austerity and seriousness. The whole thing is to throw off the lie, and let war be war, and not a play. As things now are, war is the favourite occupation of idle and frivolous people. The military profession is most honourable.

” What is war ? and what is necessary for success in military matters ? What are the habits in military circles ? The purpose of war is murder ; its tools are spying, treason, and the encouragement of treason, the ruin of the inhabitants, robbing them or stealing from them to supply the army, deceit and lies, called military ruses; the habits of the military profession are the absence of freedom, that is, discipline, idleness, ignorance, cruelty, debauch, drunkenness. And yet, despite all this, it is the higher profession, which is respected by all. All the kings, except the Emperor of China, wear a military uniform, and he who has killed the greatest number of men receives the greatest honours.

” They come together, as they will tomorrow, to kill each other; they will kill and maim tens of thousands, and then they will have thanksgiving services for having killed a big lot of men (the number of winch they are still increasing) and they proclaim the victory, assuming that the greater the number they have killed, the greater their deserts. How God looks at them from there, and listens to their talk ! ” Prince Andréy shouted in a thin, squeaky voice. ” Oh, my soul, of late it has become a hard matter for me to live. I see that I have begun to understand too much. It is not good for man to partake of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil. Well, it is not for long ! ” he added.

” But you are sleeping, and it is time for me to go. Go to Gdrki ! ” Prince Andréy suddenly said.

” Oh, no ! ” Pierre replied, looking at Prince Andrey with frightened and compassionate eyes.

” Go, go ! Before a battle one must sleep well,” repeated Prince Andrey. He rapidly walked over to Pierre, embraced him, and kissed him. « Good-bye ! Go ! ” he cried. ” Whether we shall see each other again, or not — ” and, turning abruptly around, he went into the shed.

It was dark, and Pierre could not make out the expression on Prince Audrey’s face, whether it was grim or tender.

Pierre stood for a little while in silence, reflecting whether he had better follow Prince Andréy, or go home. ” No, he does not want me ! ” Pierre decided, “and I know that it is our last meeting.” He drew a deep breath and drove back to Gérki.

Upon returning to the shed, Prince Andréy lay down on a carpet, but could not fall asleep.

He closed his eyes. One series of pictures gave way to another. On one of these he for a long time dwelt with pleasure. He vividly recalled an evening at St. Petersburg. Natdsha was telling him with an animated, agitated face, how the previous summer she had lost her way in a big forest, while looking for mushrooms. She incoherently described to him the thicket and her feeling, and a conversation which she had with the bee-keeper, whom she met, and every moment interrupting her story, she kept saying, ” No, I can’t, — I am not telling it right : no, you do not understand ! ” although Prince Andrey kept assuring her that he did understand, and indeed did understand all she meant to say. Natasha was dissatisfied with her words, — she felt that she did not succeed in manifesting that intensely poetic sensation which she had experienced on that day, and which she wished to convey to him. “ It was so charming : that old man, and the darkness in the woods — and he had such good — no, I can’t tell it,” she said, blushing and agitated. Prince Andrey now smiled the same joyous smile he had smiled then, looking into her eyes. ” I understood her,” thought Prince Andréy. ” I not only understood her, but this very power of her soul, this sincerity, this frankness, this soul of hers, which seemed to bind her body, this very soul I loved in her — oh, so strongly, so happily — ” And suddenly he recalled the end of his love. He did not need anything of that. He did not see, nor understand anything. He saw in her a pretty and untouched girl, with whom he did not think it worth while uniting his fate. But I ? And he is still alive and happy.

Prince Andréy leaped up as though some one had scalded him, and once more began to pace up and down in the shed.

XXVI.

Ox August 25th, on the eve of the battle of Borodind, the prefect of the palace of the French Emperor, M. de Beausset, and Colonel Fad vier, came, the first from Paris, the second from Madrid, to see Emperor Napoleon in his halting-place at Valuevo.

Donning his court uniform, M. de Beausset ordered a package for the emperor to be carried before him, and entered the first division of Napoleon’s tent, where, conversing with Napoleon’s adjutants, who surrounded him, he busied himself with opening the box.

Fab vier did not come into the tent, but stopped at its entrance to talk with such of the generals as he knew.

Emperor Napoleon had not yet come out of his sleeping-room and was finishing his toilet. Snorting and grunting, he turned now his fat back, and now Iris hirsute, fleshy breast toward the brush, with which his valet was rubbing his body. Another valet, holding his finger on a bottle, was spraying eau de Cologne on the emperor’s well-groomed body, with an expression which said that he alone could tell how much eau de Cologne was to be sprayed, and on what parts of the body. Napoleon’s short hair was wet and matted over his brow. But his face, though puffed up and sallow, expressed physical pleasure : “ Allez ferine, allez toujours ! ” he kept saying to the valet who was rubbing him, compressing himself and grunting during the operation. An adjutant, who had entered the sleeping-room in order to report to the emperor how many prisoners had been taken in the engagement of the day before, having transmitted what was necessary, was standing at the door and waiting for permission to leave. Napoleon, frowning, looked stealthily at the adjutant.

” Point de prisonniers,” he repeated the words of the adjutant. t(Jls se font démolir. Tant pis pour farmee russe? he said. “Allez toujours, allez ferme? he muttered, bending his back and offering his fat shoulders.

” C ’est bien ! Faites entrer M. Beausset, ainsi que Fabvier? he said to the adjutant, nodding his head.

“ Oui, Sire,” and the adjutant disappeared through the door of the tent.

The two valets quickly dressed his Majesty, and, wearing his blue uniform of the Guard, he walked with rapid steps into the reception-room.

Beausset was busy with his hands, placing the empress’s present, which he had brought with him, on two chairs, exactly in front of the entrance. But the emperor had dressed himself so unexpectedly fast and had come out so soon, that he had no time to finish arranging the surprise.

Napoleon noticed at once what they were doing and divined that they were not yet ready. He did not want to deprive them of the pleasure of giving him a surprise. He acted as though he did not see M. Beausset, and called up Fabvier. Napoleon, scowling, listened in silence to what Fabvier was telling him about the bravery and devotion of his troops who had been fighting at Salamanca, at the other end of Europe, and who had had but one thought, — to be worthy of their emperor, — and one fear, — not to please him. The result of the battle was a sad one. Napoleon made ironical remarks during Fabvier’s story, as though he could not have expected things to have gone otherwise during his absence.

” I must mend this in Moscow,” said Napoleon. ” A tantôt? he added. He called up Beausset, who by that time had finished the arrangement of the surprise, having placed something on the chairs, and covered it with a sheet.

Beausset bowed low with that low bow of a French courtier, which only the old servants of the Bourbons knew how to make, and walked up, handing him an envelope.

Napoleon turned cheerily to him and pulled his ear.

“You have hurried up, I am glad of it. What does Paris say ? ” he said, suddenly changing his stern expression to one of great kindness.

” Sire, tout Paris regrette votre absence? Beausset replied, as was proper.

Although Napoleon knew that Beausset was going to tell him this, or something similar to it, although he knew in his lucid moments that that was not true, it gave him pleasure to hear it from Beausset. He again honoured him with a touch of his ear.

” Je suis fâché de vous avoir fait faire tant de chemin? he said.

” Sire ! Je ne m’attendais pas à moins qu’à vous trouver aux portes de Moscou? said Beausset.

Napoleon smiled and, absent-mindedly raising his head, looked to the right. An adjutant walked up with a gliding motion, holding in his hand a gold snuff-box, which he offered to Napoleon. Napoleon took it.

“ Yes, things have turned out well for you,” he said, taking the open snuff-box up to his nose. ” You like to travel, and in three days you will see Moscow. You, no doubt, had not expected to see the Asiatic capital. You will have made a pleasant journey.”

Beausset bowed in gratitude for tliis attention to his proneness to travel, which was new to him.

” Ah ! What is this ? ” said Napoleon, noticing that all the courtiers were looking at that which was covered up with a sheet. Beausset, with a courtier’s agility, without showing his back, took two steps back in a semicircle and at the same time pulled off the cover, saying, “ A present for your majesty from the empress.”

It was a painting in glaring colours, by Gérard, representing the boy born of Napoleon and the daughter of the Austrian emperor, whom all for some reason called the King of Rome.

The very pretty, curly-headed boy, with a look resembling that of Christ in the painting of the Sistine Madonna, was represented as playing bilboquet. The ball represented the terrestrial sphere, and the cup in the other hand was formed as a sceptre.

Although it was not quite clear what the painter meant to express by representing the so-called King of Rome as sticking the stick through the earth-ball, the allegory had seemed quite clear and acceptable to all who had seen it in Paris, even as it now pleased Napoleon.

“Roi de Rome” he said, pointing to the portrait with a graceful gesture of his hand. ” Admirable ! ” With that ability so characteristic of the Italians, of changing the expression of his face at will, he walked over to the portrait and assumed the aspect of meditative tenderness. He felt that what he should now say and do would be history. And it seemed to him that the best thing to be done was for him, with his majesty, by virtue of which his son was playing bilboquet with the terrestrial sphere, to show, in contradistinction to this majesty, the simplest paternal tenderness. His eyes became dimmed, he moved up, he looked around for a chair (which sprang underneath him), and sat down opposite the portrait. One gesture of his, and all went out on tiptoe, leaving him to himself and to his feeling — of a great man.

Having remained for some time in a sitting posture and having for some reason fingered the rough touches of light on the portrait, he rose and again called Beausset and the adjutant of the day. He ordered the portrait to be taken out in front of the tent, in order not to deprive the old Guard, which stood near the tent, of the happiness of seeing the King of Rome and the heir of their adored emperor.

And, indeed, as he had expected, while he was breakfasting with Beausset, who was honoured this way, there were heard in front of the tent the enthusiastic shouts of the officers and soldiers of the old Guard, who ran up to see the portrait.

” Vive l’Empereur ! Vive le Roi de Rome ! Vive l’Empereur ! ” were heard the voices of transport.

After breakfast, Napoleon, in the presence of Beausset, dictated his order of the day to the army.

” Courte et énergique ! ” said Napoleon, as he himself read the proclamation which was written down at once without corrections. The order ran as follows:

” Warriors ! Here is the battle which you have been wishing for so much. The victory depends on you. It is necessary for us ; it will supply us with everything we need, with comfortable quarters, and an early return to your country. Act as you acted at Austerlitz, Friedland, Vitebsk, and Smolénsk ! Let the remotest posterity recall your deeds of this day ! Let them say of each of you : He was at the great battle near Moscow ! “

” De la Moskowa ! ” repeated Napoleon, and, inviting Beausset, who liked to travel, to accompany him on his promenade, he left the tent and went up to the saddled horses.

” Votre Majesté a trop de bonté” said Beausset, in response to the emperor’s invitation to accompany him : he wanted to sleep, and he did not know how to ride and was afraid to mount a horse.

But Napoleon nodded to the traveller, and Beausset was compelled to ride. As Napoleon left the tent, the shouts of the soldiers of the Guard in front of the portrait of his son increased. Napoleon frowned.

“ Take it down ! ” he said, pointing to the portrait with

a gracefully majestic gesture. ” It is too early yet for him to see a field of battle.”

Beausset, closing his eyes and lowering his head, heaved a deep sigh, showing by this gesture that he knew how to appreciate and understand the words of the emperor.

XXVII.

All this day, on the 25th of August, the historians say, Napoleon passed on horseback, examining the locality, considering the plans, which his marshals presented to him, and personally giving commands to his generals.

The original line of the position of the Russian troops, along the Koldcha, was broken, and part of tins line, namely the left flank of the Russians, was carried back, on account of the loss of the Shevardind redoubt, on the 24th. This part of the line was not fortified, no longer protected by the river, and before it alone was there a more open and level place. It was evident to every military and non-military man that the French would attack this particular spot. It looked as though it did not take much consideration, that there was no need of such care and worry on the part of the emperor and the marshals, and none of that especial, higher ability, called genius, which one is so apt to ascribe to Napoleon ; but the historians, who later described this event, and the people, who then surrounded Napoleon, and he himself, thought differently.

Napoleon rode down the field, thoughtfully looked at the locality, approvingly or incredulously shook his head to himself, and, without communicating to Ins generals that thoughtful march of ideas which guided his decisions, transmitted to them only the final conclusions in the shape of commands. Having listened to the plan of Dav out, called the Duke of Eckmühl, which was to surround the left flank of the Russians, Napoleon said that this need not be done, without explaining why. To the

proposition of General Compans (who was to attack the flèches) to take his division through the woods, Napoleon gave his assent, although the so-called Duke of Elchingen, that is, Ney, took the liberty of remarking that the movement through the forest was dangerous and might disorganize the division.

Having examined the locality opposite the Shevardino redoubt, Napoleon reflected for a few minutes in silence, and pointed out the places where by the next day two batteries were to be erected, to act against the Russian fortifications, and the places beside them where the field artillery was to be erected.

Having given this and similar orders, he returned to his halting-place, and under his dictation the disposition of the battle was written.

This disposition, of which French historians speak with enthusiasm, and other historians with profound respect, ran as follows :

« At daybreak two new batteries, erected in the night in the plain occupied by the Prince of Eckmühl, shall open fire on the two opposing batteries of the enemy.

” At the same time the commander of the artillery of the first corps, General Pernetti, with thirty pieces of ordnance of Compans’s division, and with all the howitzers of Dessaix and Friant’s division, shall move forward, open fire, and overwhelm with grenades the enemy’s battery, against which will act : twenty-four guns of the artillery of the Guard, thirty guns of Compans’s division, and eight guns of Friant and Dessaix’s division ; in all, sixty-two guns.

” The commander of the artillery of the 3d corps, General Fouché, shall place all the howitzers of the 3d and 8th corps, sixteen in all, along the flanks of the battery which shall fire on the left fortification, which will have forty guns in all directed against it.

” General Sorbier must be ready, at the first signal, to advance with all the howitzers of the artillery of the Guard against the one or the other of the fortifications.

“ During the cannonade, Prince Poniatowski shall move against the village into the forest, and shall outflank the enemy’s position.

” General Compans shall advance through the forest, to get possession of the first fortification.

“After entering thus into battle, orders will be given in conformity with the movements of the enemy.

” The cannonade on the left flank shall begin the moment the cannonade of the right wing is heard. The riflemen of Morand’s division and of the division of the viceroy shall open a strong fire when they see the beginning of the attack by the right wing.

” The viceroy shall take possession of the village and pass by its three bridges, following on the same height with the divisions of Morand and Gérard, which, under his guidance, shall advance to the redoubt and enter into a line with the remaining troops of the army.

” All this shall be done in an orderly and methodical manner, sparing as far as possible the troops in the reserve.

” In the imperial camp, near Mozhaysk, September 6th, 1812.”

This disposition, written in a very confused manner, if it be permitted to refer to Napoleon’s orders without any religious terror before his genius, contained four points, — four distinct dispositions. Not one of them could be executed, and not one of them was executed.

In the disposition it says, in the first place, that the ‘batteries erected in a place especially chosen by Napoleon, with the ordnance of Pernetti and Fouché lined up with them, in all 102 guns, should open fire and overwhelm the Russian flèches and redoubts with projectiles. This could not be done, because from the places chosen by Napoleon the projectiles could not reach the Russian works, and these 102 guns kept wasting their ammunition until the nearest commander, contrary to Napoleon’s order, moved them forward.

The second arrangement was that Poniatowski, moving against the village into the forest, should surround the left wing of the Russians. This could not have been done, and it was not done, because Poniatowski, moving into the forest against the village, there met Tuchkov, who barred his way, and he could not surround, and did not surround, the Russian position.

The third arrangement : General Compans shall move into the forest to take possession of the first fortification. Oompans’s division did not take possession of the first fortification, but was repelled because, upon emerging from the forest, it had to be drawn up under a fire of grape-shot, which Napoleon did not know of.

The fourth : The viceroy shall take jwssession of the village (Borodind) and pass by its three bridges, following on the same height with the divisions of Morand and Friant (as to whither and when these latter should move, nothing is said), which, lender his guidance, shall advance to the redoubt and enter into a line with the remaining troops of the army.

As much as can be made out, if not from this senseless period, at least from the attempts made by the viceroy to execute the orders which he had received, he was to have moved through Borodino to the left, against the redoubt, while the divisions of Morand and Friant were to have moved simultaneously from the front.

All this, like the other points of the disposition, was not, and could not have been, executed. Upon passing through Borodino, the viceroy was beaten off at the Ko-Idcha, and was unable to proceed ; while the divisions of Morand and Friant did not take the redoubt, but were repelled, and the redoubt was taken only at the end of the battle by the cavalry (apparently an unforeseen and unheard-of tiring for Napoleon). And thus not one of the plans of the disposition was, nor could have been, executed. But in the disposition it says that, after entering thus into battle, other orders would be given, in conformity with the actions of the enemy, and so it might have seemed that Napoleon would give all the necessary orders during the battle ; but that did not happen, and could not have happened because during the battle Napoleon was so far away from it that (as was actually proven later) the course of the battle could not have been known to him, and not one of his orders could have been executed during the battle.

XXVIII.

Many historians say that the battle of Borodind was not won by the French because Napoleon had a cold in his head, that, if he had not had a cold, his orders before and during the battle would have been more ingenious still, and Russia would have perished, ” et la face du ‘inonde eut été changée.” For the historians, who recognize that Russia was formed by the will of one man, Peter the Great, and that France from a republic naturally grew into an empire, and that the French troops entered Russia by the will of one man, — Napoleon, such reasoning as this, that Russia remained powerful because on the 26th Napoleon had a cold, is inevitable and consistent.

If it depended on Napoleon’s will to give or not to give the battle of Borodino, or to make this or that arrangement, then it is evident that a cold, which had an influence on the manifestation of his will, could have been the cause of Russia’s salvation, and that, therefore, the valet who on the 24th forgot to hand Napoleon a pair of watertight boots was the saviour of Russia. By this manner of reasoning the deduction is incontestable ; just as incontestable as that other deduction which Voltaire made jesting (himself not knowing at what), when he said that the night of St. Bartholomew was due to Charles IX.’s disordered stomach. But for people who do not admit that Russia was formed by the will of the one man, Peter the Great, and that the French empire was formed, and the war with Russia started, by the will of one man, Napoleon, this reasoning not only presents itself as faulty and unreasonable, but also as contrary to all human existence. To the question what forms the cause of historical events there presents itself another answer, which consists in assuming that the march of terrestrial events is predestined from above, depends on the coincidence of all the wills of the men who take part in these events, and that the influence of Napoleon’s on the march of these events is only external and fictitious.

However strange it may seem at first sight to assume that the night of St. Bartholomew, for which Charles IX. gave the order, did not take place by his will, and that he only thought that he gave the order for it, and that the Borodind slaughter of eighty thousand men did not take place by the will of Napoleon (although he gave the orders for the beginning and the progress of the battle), but that he only thought that he was its author, — however strange this supposition may seem, yet that human dignity, which tells me that each of us, if not more, is certainly not less, than any Napoleon, compels me to admit this solution of the question, and historical investigations amply confirm this assumption.

At the battle of Borodino Napoleon shot at nobody and killed nobody. The soldiers did all that. Consequently it is not he who killed men.

The soldiers of the French army went to kill and be killed at the battle of Borodind, not on account of Napoleon’s order, but by their own will. The whole army, — the French, Italians, Germans, Poles, — hungry, ragged, and weary from their marches, felt, at the sight of the army which barred their way to Moscow, that “ le vin est tiré et qu’il faut le Loire.” If Napoleon had forbidden their fighting the Russians, they would have killed him and would have proceeded to fight them, because they needed to do so.

When they heard Napoleon’s order of the day, which, to console them for their maimed bodies and for death, offered them the words of posterity that they, too, had been in the battle near Moscow, they shouted, ” Vive VEmpereur ! ” just as they had shouted ” Vive VEmpereur ! ” at the sight of the representation of the boy sticking the bilboquet stick through the globe, and just as they would have shouted, ” Vive l’Empereur ! ” at any trifle said to them. There was nothing left for them to do but to call, ” Vive l’Empereur ! ” and to proceed to fight, in order to find the food and rest of victors in Moscow. Consequently they did not kill their like on account of Napoleon’s orders.

Nor did Napoleon guide the battle, because nothing mentioned in his disposition was carried out, and because during the battle he did not know what was going on in front of him. Consequently, even the manner in which the people killed each other did not take place according to Napoleon’s will, but independently of it, by the will of hundreds of thousands of men who took part in the general engagement. It only seemed to Napoleon that all this affair was taking place by his will. Consequently the question whether Napoleon had, or had not, a cold in his head, is of no greater interest to history than the question of the last soldier of the baggagetrain.

On the 26th of August, Napoleon’s cold was of still less importance, since the assertions of the writers that Napoleon’s cold was the cause of the disposition and the orders during the battle, which were not as good as former dispositions and orders, are quite untrue.

The disposition given above is by no means worse, but even better, than all former dispositions by which battles had been won. But this disposition and the orders only seem worse than before because the battle of Borodind was the first which Napoleon had not won. All the most beautiful and profound dispositions and orders appear very bad, and every learned military man criticises them with a knowing look, when the battle to which they refer is not won ; and the worst dispositions and orders seem very good, and serious men use whole volumes to prove the advantages of such bad orders, when the battles are won with them.

The disposition composed by Weyrother at the battle of Austerlitz was a sample of perfection in compositions of this kind, but it was, nevertheless, condenmed on the ground of its perfection, of its minute details.

At the battle of Borodino Napoleon carried on his business as a representative of power just as well and even better than at other battles. lie did nothing injurious to the course of the battle ; he looked favourably on the more sensible opinions ; he did not become confused, nor contradict himself, did not get frightened, and did not run away from the field of battle, but with his great tact and experience of war calmly and worthily carried on his rôle of a seeming commander.

XXIX.

Upon returning from his second thoughtful ride along the line, Napoleon said :

” The chessmen are on the board, — the game will begin tomorrow.”

Ordering a glass of punch and calling up Beausset, he began with him a conversation on Paris, on certain changes which he intended to make in the “maison de ï Impératrice” surprising the prefect by his memory for the minutest details of the relations of the court.

He was interested in trifles, joked Beausset on account of his love of travel, and chattered nonchalantly, like a famous, confident, skilful operator, when he rolls up his sleeves and puts on his apron, and the patient is tied to the cot. ” The whole business is in my hands and head, — clearly and definitely. When the time comes to do the business, I will do it better than anybody else, but now I may joke, and the more I jest and am self-possessed, the more you will be at your ease, and calm, and surprised at my genius.”

Having emptied his second glass of punch, Napoleon went to take a rest before the serious business which, so he thought, awaited him on the morrow.

He was so much interested in this impending matter, that he was unable to sleep, and, in spite of the cold which increased in the evening dampness, at three o’clock he went out into the large division of the tent, loudly clearing his nose. He asked whether the Russians had not departed. He was told that the camp-fires of the enemy were still in the same places. He nodded his head approvingly.

The adjutant of the day entered the tent.

” Eh bien, Rapp, croyez-vous que nous ferons de bonnes affaires aujourd’hui ? ” he turned to him.

” Sans aucune doute, Sire,” replied Rapp.

Napoleon looked at him.

” Vous rappelez-vous, Sire, ce que vous m’avez fait l’honneur de dire à Smolensk,” said Rapp, ” le vin est tire, il faut le boire.”

Napoleon frowned and for a long time sat in silence, dropping his head on his arms.

« Cette pauvre armée,” he suddenly said, “ elle a bien diminué depuis Smolensk. la fortune est une franche courtisane, Rapp ; je le disais toujours, et je commence à l’éprouver. Mais la garde, Rapp, la garde est intacte ? ” he said, interrogatively.

” Oui, Sire,” replied Rapp.

Napoleon took a little pastille, put it in his mouth, and looked at his watch. He did not feel like sleeping, and it was yet long till morning ; to kill time he could not give any more orders, because they had all been given and were being executed.

” A-t-on distribué les biscuits et le riz aux régiments de la garde ? ” Napoleon asked, sternly.

” Oui, Sire.”

“ Mais le riz ? ”

Rapp replied that he had transmitted the emperor’s command about the rice, but Napoleon looked dissatisfied and shook his head, as though he did not believe that his order had been carried out. A servant came in with some punch. Napoleon ordered another glass to be brought in for Rapp and silently sipped swallows of his punch.

” I have neither taste, nor smell,” he said, sniffing at his glass. ” I am tired of this cold. They talk about medicine. What kind of medicine is it, since they cannot cure a cold ! Corvisart gave me these pastilles, but they do me no good. What can they cure ? You can’t cure. Notre corps est une machine à vivre. Il est organise pour cela, cost sa nature ; laissez-y la vie à son aise, qu’elle s’y défende elle-même ; elle fera plus que si vous la paralysiez en l’encombrant de remèdes. Notre corps est comme une montre parfaite qui doit aller un certain temps; l’horloger n’a pas la faculté de l’ouvrir, il ne peut la manier qu’à tâtons et les yeux bandés. Notre corps est une machine à vivre, voilà tout” and suddenly Napoleon, as though he had entered upon the path of definitions, of which he was fond, made a new, unexpected definition.

” Do you know, Rapp, what the military art is ? ” he asked. ” It is the art of being at a given moment stronger than your enemy. Voilà tout.”

Rapp made no reply.

“ Demain nous allons avoir affaire à Koutouzoff !” said Napoleon. ” Let us see. You remember, at Braunau he commanded the army, and in three weeks he did not once mount a horse to examine the fortifications. We shall see ! “

He looked at his watch. It was only four o’clock. He could not sleep; the punch-bowl was emptied, and yet there was nothing to do. He rose, walked to and fro, put on a warm coat and his hat, and left the tent. It was a dark, damp night ; a scarcely perceptible mist was settling down. The camp-fires near by, of the French Guard, did not burn briskly, and in the distance, through the smoke, they glistened along the Russian line. There was calm everywhere, and he could clearly hear the bustle and tramp of the French troops in motion, getting ready to take up their positions.

Napoleon walked up and down in front of his tent, looked at the fires, listened to the trampling, and, passing by a tall Guardsman in a shaggy hat, who was standing sentry at his tent, and who straightened himself up like a black post at the appearance of the emperor, he stopped in front of him.

“ Since what year have you been in the service ? ” he asked, with that customary affectation of a coarse and kindly militarism, with which he always addressed his soldiers. The soldier answered him.

” Ah ! un des vieux ! Have they received the rice in the regiment ? ”

” They have, your Majesty ! “

Napoleon nodded his head and walked away from him.

At half-past five, Napoleon rode to the village of Shevardind.

Day was beginning to break ; the sky had cleared up, and only one cloud lay in the east. The abandoned camp-fires were going out in the dim light of the morning.

On the right resounded a solitary, hollow cannon report which passed by and died amidst the general silence. A few minutes went by. There resounded a second, a third report, and the air shook ; a fourth and a fifth rang out near by and solemnly somewhere on the right.

The first reports had not yet died away, when others were heard, again and again, blending and interrupting each other.

Napoleon with his suite rode up to the Shevardind redoubt and dismounted from his horse. The game had begun.

XXX.

Having returned to Gdrki after seeing Prince Andréy, Pierre gave his groom the order to get the horses ready and to wake him early in the morning, and at once fell asleep back of the partition, in the corner which Boris had turned over to him.

When Pierre awoke fully on the next morning, there was no one in the hut. The panes rattled in the small windows. The groom was standing near him, trying to rouse him.

“Your Serenity, your Serenity, your Serenity — ” the groom kept repeating, without looking at Pierre and stubbornly shaking him by the shoulder, apparently having, lost all hope of ever waking him.

” What ? Has it begun ? Is it time ? ” Pierre muttered, waking up.

“You hear the firing,” said the groom, an ex-soldier. ” All the gentlemen have gone out, and his Most Serene Highness passed by long ago.”

Pierre dressed himself hurriedly and ran out on the porch. Without, it was clear, fresh, dewy, and cheerful. The sun, just bursting forth from a cloud which had shrouded it, sent forth its gleaming rays, that were halfbroken by the cloud, over the roofs of the street opposite upon the dew-covered dust of the road, upon the walls of the houses, upon the windows of the fence, and upon Pierre’s horses that were standing near the hut. The boom of the guns could be heard more distinctly in the yard. An adjutant with his Cossack galloped down the street.

“ It is time, count, it is time ! ” shouted the adjutant.

Ordering his groom to lead the horse after him, Pierre went along the street up to the mound, from which, the day before, he had surveyed the field of battle. On this mound there was a mass of military men and the French conversation of the officers of the staff could be heard, and Kutuzov’s gray head could be seen, with his white, red-visored cap and gray occiput disappearing between his shoulders. Kutuzov was looking through a field-glass down the highway.

Walking up the steps of the entrance on the mound, Pierre looked ahead of him, and stood as though petrified in contemplation of the beautiful spectacle. It was the same panorama which he had enjoyed the day before on this mound ; but now this whole locality was covered with troops and with the smoke of the discharges, and the slanting rays of the bright sun, which rose to the left and back of Pierre, cast upon it in the pure morning air a piercing light with a gold and rose-coloured shade and long, dark shadows. The distant forests, which completed the panorama, as though cut out of a precious yellow and green stone, could be seen with their winding crests of tree-tops against the horizon, and between them and back of Valuevo ran the Smolénsk highway, which was all covered with troops. Closer at hand glistened the golden fields and wolds. Everywhere, in front, on the right, and on the left, could be seen masses of soldiers. All this was animated, majestic, and unexpected ; but what most interested Pierre was the view of the battlefield itself, of Borodind, and of the ravine on both sides of the Koldcha.

Over the Koldcha, in Borodino, and on both sides of it, especially to the left, where, between swampy banks, the Vdyna falls into the Koldcha, there hovered that mist which melts, scatters, and becomes transparent at the appearance of the bright sun, and magically colours and delineates everything which can be seen through it. To this mist was added the smoke of the discharges, and through this mist and smoke gleamed the flashes of the morning light, now on the water, now on the dew, and now on the bayonets of the troops collected along the banks and at Borodind. Through this mist could be seen a white church and a few roofs of the huts at Borodino, or serried ranks of soldiers, or green caissons and ordnance. And all this was in motion, or seemed to be, because the mist and smoke extended through all this space. Just as in this mist-covered locality of the lowlands about Borodino, so also outside of it, above and especially to the left of the whole line, over the forests, over the fields, in the lowlands, on the eminences, there constantly rose out of nothing, and of their own accord, puffs of cannon-smoke, now singly, now in masses, now light, now dense, and they, swelling, growing, whirling, blending, could be seen over the whole extent of space.

The smoke of the discharges and, strange to say, their sound produced the chief beauty of the spectacle.

” Puff ! ” suddenly appeared the round, dense smoke, iridescent in lilac, gray, and milk-white colours, and, ” Boom ! ” a second later resounded the peal that accompanied that smoke.

“ Puff, puff ! ” two clouds of smoke arose, driving each other and blending ; and, ” Boom, boom ! ” the sounds confirmed what the eye saw.

Pierre looked at the first smoke, which he had left a round, solid ball, and already there were in its place smaller balls drawing sidewise, and, ” Puff ! ” — (after an interval) “ Puff, puff ! ” there arose three more, and four, and to each of these, with the same intervals, ” Boom — boom, boom ! ” replied the beautiful, firm, precise sounds. It looked now as though these clouds of smoke were racing, and now again as though they were standing still, and that the fields, forests, and shining bayonets were running. On the left side, over the fields and bushes, constantly originated these large clouds of smoke with their solemn echoes, and nearer still, in the lowlands and in the woods, puffed up small clouds of smoke, which did not get a chance to whirl into circles, — the smoke from the muskets, and they, too, produced their little echoes. ” Trakh-ta-ta-takh ! ” crackled the guns, in frequent but irregular succession, and faint in comparison with the reports of the ordnance.

Pierre wanted to be down where these clouds of smoke were, these shining bayonets, this motion, these sounds. He looked at Kutuzov and at his suite, to verify his impressions by those of the rest. All were looking like him at the field of battle ahead of them, and, as he thought, they experienced the same sensations. On all the faces now gleamed that latent heat of feeling which Pierre had observed the day before, and which he had come to comprehend fully after his conversation with Prince Andréy.

” Go, my dear, go, and may Christ protect you,” Kutuzov said to a general who was standing near him, without taking his eyes off the field of battle.

Having heard the command, this general passed by Pierre, on his way down the mount.

” To the ford! ” the general said, sternly and coldly, in reply to the question of one of the officers of the staff as to where he was going.

” I too, I too,” thought Pierre, and went in the direction of the general.

The general mounted his horse, which a Cossack brought up to him. Pierre went to his groom, who was holding his horses. Asking which of them was most gentle, Pierre climbed on the horse, took hold of the mane, pressed the heels of his outward-toed feet against the horse’s belly and, feeling that his glasses were falling down and that

he was not able to take his hands off the mane and reins, he galloped after the general, provoking smiles among the officers of the staff, who looked down on him from the mound.

XXXI.

The general, behind whom Pierre was galloping, turned sharply to the left, after reaching the foot of the hill, and Pierre, having lost sight of him, galloped into the ranks of infantry soldiers, who were marching in front of him. He tried to ride out ahead, and to the left, and to the right ; but everywhere were soldiers whose thoughtful faces seemed to be occupied with some invisible, but apparently important matter. All of them cast the same dissatisfied and inquiring glances at this stout man in the white hat, who, no one knew why, was crushing them with his horse.

” What is he doing here in the midst of the battalion ! ” shouted one. Another struck his horse with the butt of his gun, and Pierre, pressing against the saddle-bow and with difficulty checking bis startled mount, galloped out in front of the soldiers, where there was an open space.

In front of him was a bridge, and at the bridge stood other soldiers who were firing off their guns. Pierre rode up to them. Without knowing it, Pierre had ridden up to the bridge over the Koldcha, which was between Gdrki and Borodino, and which the French, having occupied Borodind, were attacking in the first action of the battle. Pierre saw that the bridge was in front of him, and that on both sides of it, in the meadow, the soldiers were doing something in the rows of mown hay, which he had not observed through the smoke on the previous day ; but, in spite of the incessant fusilade which took place in this spot, it never occurred to him that it was a field of battle.

He did not hear the sounds of the bullets that pinged on all sides, nor of the projectiles that flew over him, did not see the enemy, who was on the other side of the river, and for a long time did not see the killed and the wounded, though many fell but a short distance from him. He looked about him with a smile which did not leave his face.

” Why is this man riding in front of the line ? ” somebody shouted at him.

” To the left ! Keep to the right ! ” they called out to him.

Pierre turned to the right and unexpectedly fell in with an acquaintance, — an adjutant of General Baévski. This adjutant looked angrily at Pierre, apparently getting himself ready to shout at him, but, upon recognizing him, he nodded his head to him.

“ What are you doing here ? ” he said, riding along.

Pierre, who felt himself out of place there and without any definite work, and fearing lest he should again be in somebody’s way, galloped after the adjutant.

“ What is tins here ? May I ride with you ? ” he asked.

“Directly, directly,” replied the adjutant, and, after riding up to a fat colonel who was standing in the meadow, and telling him something, he again turned to Pierre.

” Why did you come down here, count ? ” he said to him, with a smile. “ Are you still curious ? ”

” Yes, yes,” said Pierre.

But the adjutant turned his horse about and rode on.

” Here it is passable,” said the adjutant, ” but at the left flank, where Bagratidn is, there is a terrible fire.”

” Really ? ” asked Pierre. ” Where is that ? “

” Gome with me to the mound, — from there you can see it. It is still bearable in our battery,” said the adjutant.

“ Yes, I will ride with you,” said Pierre, looking about him and trying to find his groom. It was then that Pierre for the first time saw wounded soldiers, tottering along, or carried in stretchers. On the very meadow with the redolent rows of hay, over which he had ridden the day before, a soldier, with his shako knocked off, was lying motionless across the rows. ” Why has not this one been picked up ? ” Pierre began, but, upon noticing the stern face of the adjutant, who was looking in the same direction, he stopped.

Pierre did not find his groom, and he rode with the adjutant through the lowlands and along the ravine to Raévski’s Mound. Pierre’s horse fell behind the adjutant and evenly jolted him.

” You are evidently not accustomed to riding, count ‘ ” said the adjutant.

“ No, I do not mind it, but the horse is leaping dreadfully,” Pierre said, in perplexity.

” Oho ! Why, it is wounded,” said the adjutant, ” in the right fore leg, above the knee. No doubt, a bullet. I congratulate you, count,” he said, ” le baptême du feu.”

After riding through the smoke along the sixth corps, behind the artillery, winch, having been moved forward, was firing off the guns and deafening everything with their discharges, they rode up to a small forest. The woods were cool and calm, and redolent with the autumn. Pierre and the adjutant got down from their horses and ascended the hill on foot.

“ Is the general here ? ” asked the adjutant, walking up to the mound.

“He was here a moment ago ; he rode off in this direction,” somebody replied, pointing to the right.

The adjutant looked at Pierre, as though not knowing what to do with him now.

“ Do not trouble yourself,” said Pierre. ” I will go to the mound, if I may.”

” Yes, do go ! Everything is visible from there, and it is safe there. I will come for you.”

Pierre went to the battery, and the adjutant rode away. They did not see each other again, and only much later did Pierre learn that on that day the adjutant had his arm torn off.

The mound to which Pierre went was that famous place (which later became known to the Russians under the name of the Mound Battery, or Raévski’s Battery, while the Frenchmen knew it under the name of ” la grande redoute, la fatale redoute, la redoute du centre “) around which fell tens of thousands, and which the French regarded as the most important point of the position.

This redoubt consisted of a mound, on three sides of which ditches had been dug. In the place which was surrounded by the ditches stood ten firing guns, placed in the embrasures of the ramparts.

On the same line with the mound, guns were placed on both sides, and they, too, kept up a cannonade. A little back of the guns stood infantry troops. Upon ascending this mound, Pierre did not think that this small, ditch-bordered mound, from which a few guns were firing shot, was the most important place of the battle.

On the contrary, Pierre thought that this place (even because he happened to be there) was one of the most insignificant spots of the battle.

Having ascended the mound, Pierre sat down at the end of the ditch which surrounded the battery, and with an unconscious smile of joy looked at what was taking place about him. Now and then Pierre got up, still with the same smile on his lips, and walked up and down along the battery, trying to keep out of the way of the soldiers who loaded and planted the guns, and who kept running past him with cartouches and with shot. The guns on this battery were continually discharged one after another, drowning everything with their sounds and shrouding the whole locality with their powder smoke.

In contradistinction to that uneasy feeling experienced among the infantry soldiers of the epaulement, here, in the battery, where the small number of busily occupied men was limited and separated from the rest by the ditches, there was abroad a universal, so to speak, a family animation.

The appearance of Pierre’s unsoldierlike figure, in his white hat, at first gave these men a disagreeable sensation. The soldiers, passing by him, looked askance at his figure in surprise and even fear. The senior officer of artillery, a tall, long-legged, pockmarked man, walked over to Pierre, as though intending to look at the action of the farthest gun, and cast a curious glance at him.

A very young, round-faced officer, a mere child yet, who evidently had just been let out from the military school, and who looked very carefully after the two guns entrusted to him, sternly addressed Pierre.

“ Sir, permit me to ask you to get out of the way,” he said to him. ” Nobody is allowed here.”

The soldiers shook their heads in disapproval, as they looked at Pierre. But when they convinced themselves that this man in the white hat did no harm and calmly sat on the incline of the rampart, or, with a timid smile and politely getting out of the way of the soldiers, walked up and down along the battery, with as calm a demeanour under the shots as though he were promenading on a boulevard, the feeling of malevolent perplexity slowly passed into one of a kindly and jocular sympathy, such as soldiers are wont to express to their animals, their dogs, cocks, goats, in general, to any animals attached to their military commands. These soldiers mentally received Pierre into their family, adopted him, and gave him a nickname. « Our master ” they called him, and they exchanged good-natured laughs with each other about him.

A ball dug up the earth within two steps from Pierre. Cleaning off the dirt which the ball had bespattered him with, he looked around him with a smile.

” blaster, how is it you are not afraid ? ” Pierre was addressed by a red-faced, broad-shouldered soldier, who displayed his sound white teeth in a smile.

” Are you afraid ? ” Pierre asked him.

” Of course I am,” replied the soldier. ” It does not spare any one. When it digs into you, out come your guts. How can a man help being afraid?” he said, laughing.

A few soldiers stopped in front of Pierre with merry and kindly expressions on their faces. They looked as though they had not expected him to speak like anybody else, and this discovery gave them pleasure.

” Our business is that of soldiers. But you are a master, — and so it is wonderful. That is what I call a master ! “

“To your places!” the young officer shouted to the soldiers who had congregated around Pierre. It was evident that this officer was doing duty for the first or the second time, and so he addressed his soldiers and his superiors with particular precision and formality.

The pealing cannonade and the fusilade grew stronger along the whole field, especially on the left, there where were Bagration’s flèches; but through the smoke of the guns it was impossible to see anything from the place where Pierre was. Besides, the observation of that family circle of men in the battery separated from all the rest absorbed Pierre’s whole attention. His first unconscious and pleasurable agitation, which had been induced by the sight and the sounds of the field of battle, now, especially after he had seen that lonely soldier lying in the meadow, gave way to another sensation. Sitting on the incline of the ditch, he watched the faces which surrounded him.

By ten o’clock about twenty men had been removed from the battery ; two guns were disabled, and projectiles fell ever more frequently on the battery, and distant bullets, buzzing and whistling, found their way there. But the men at the guns did not seem to notice all of this. On every side could be heard merry conversation and jokes.

“ Dumpling ! ” cried a soldier to an approaching grenade, as it flew by with a whistling sound. ” Not this way ! To the infantry ! ” added another, noticing that the grenade had passed beyond and had fallen into the ranks of the epaulement.

” What is it, a friend of yours ? ” another soldier laughed at a peasant who ducked at the sight of a flying ball.

A few soldiers congregated at the rampart, looking at what was going on in the distance.

” They have taken off the cordon, you see, and have retreated,” they said, pointing over the rampart.

” Mind your own business ! ” the old under-officer shouted at them. ” If they have retreated, they, no doubt, have some business farther back.” And the under-officer, taking a soldier by his shoulder, gave him a kick with his knee.

The soldiers burst out laughing.

” To the fifth gun ! Boll it out ! ” they shouted on one side.

” All together, in towing fashion ! ” were heard the merry shouts of those who were changing the gun.

” Oh, it has almost knocked the cap off the head of our master,” the red-faced jester said, grinning at Pierre. ” Oh, awkward one ! ” he added, reproachfully, in reference to the ball which struck a wheel and a man’s leg.

” Come now, you foxes ! ” another said, laughing at the stooping militiamen, who came to the battery for the wounded. ” Doesn’t the porridge taste good ? Oh, you ravens, what are you dallying for? ” they cried to the militiamen who were busy about the soldier with the torn-off leg. ” A chap what is a chap ! ” they imitated the peasant talk. ” Oh, how they hate it ! “

Pierre noticed that after each ball which hit, after each loss, the general animation kept increasing. Just as in an approaching thunder-cloud, the lightnings of a hidden and kindling lire ever more frequently and more brightly flared upon the faces of all these men, as though in defiance of what was taking place.

Pierre was not looking ahead of him at the battlefield and took no interest in what was going on there : he was all absorbed in the contemplation of the growing fire which, he felt, was also flaming up in his soul.

At ten o’clock the infantry soldiers, who had been in front of the battery in the bushes and along the brook of Kamenka, retreated. From the battery they could be seen running back past it, carrying the wounded on their muskets. A general with his suite ascended the mound and, having said something to the colonel, and casting an angry look at Pierre, he again descended and ordered the infantry of the epaulement behind the battery to lie down in order to subject themselves as little as possible to the fire. Immediately after this a drum and shouts of command were heard in the rows of the infantry, to the right of the battery, and the ranks of the soldiers were seen to advance.

Pierre looked over the rampart. One person in particular attracted his attention. It was an officer, who, with a pale, youthful face, was walking in the rear, carrying his drooping sword, and restlessly looking about him.

The ranks of the soldiers disappeared in the smoke, and there could be heard their protracted shout and a constant fusilade. A few minutes later throngs of wounded and of litters came from that direction. Projectiles began to fall more frequently upon the battery. Several men lay on the ground and had not been taken away. The soldiers moved more busily and with greater animation around the guns. Nobody was now paying attention to Pierre. Once or twice some one shouted at him for being in the way. The senior officer, with frowning face, kept pacing with long, rapid strides from one piece of ordnance to the other. The youthful officer, flushed more than ever, gave still more precise orders to his soldiers. The soldiers handed the shot, moved quickly, loaded, and did their work with strained foppishness. They leaped in their walk, as though they were on springs.

The thunder-cloud had moved up, and in every face burnt that fire, the kindling of which Pierre had been watching all the time. lie was standing near the senior officer. The youthful officer ran up to the senior officer, holding his hand to his shako.

“ I have the honour of reporting, colonel, that there are only eight charges left,— do you order the fire to be continued ? ” he asked.

” Canister-shot ! ” without replying, shouted the senior officer, who was looking over the rampart.

Suddenly something happened. The youthful officer shrieked and, doubling up, sat down on the ground, like a bird shot on the wing. Everything became strange, indistinct, and gloomy in Pierre’s eyes.

One after another balls whistled and struck the breastwork, the soldiers, the guns. Pierre, who had not heard these sounds before, now heard nothing but these sounds. On one side of the battery, on the right, the soldiers, shouting ” Hurrah! ” were running, not ahead, but back, as Pierre thought.

A ball struck at the very edge of the rampart in front of which Pierre was standing, and caved in some dirt. A black ball flashed past Pierre’s eyes, and at the same moment it plashed into something. The militiamen who had come up to the battery ran back again.

” Canister-shot from every gun ! ” shouted the officer.

An under-officer ran up to the senior officer and in a frightened whisper (such as that in which the majordomo informs his master at the table that there is none of the wine for which he is asking) informed him that there were no charges left.

” Rascals, what are they doing ? ” shouted the officer, turning to Pierre. The face of the senior officer was red and sweaty, and his gloomy eyes glistened. “ Run to the reserves and bring the caissons ! ” he cried, angrily overlooking Pierre and turning to his soldier.

” I will go,” said Pierre. The officer made no reply to him, and with rapid steps walked away to another side.

” Don’t fire ! Wait ! ” he shouted.

The soldier who had been ordered to go for the charges stumbled against Pierre.

“ Oh, master, this is not a place for you,” he said, running down-hill.

Pierre ran after the soldier, walking around the place where the youthful officer sat.

A ball, a second, a third, flew over him, striking in front, on both sides, in his rear. Pierre ran down-hill. ” Whither am I running ? ” he thought, just as he was near the green caissons. lie stopped in indecision as to whether he had better go back or ahead. Suddenly a terrible blow threw him back, on the ground. At the same moment the flash of a great fire lighted him up, and at the same time there resounded a deafening thunder, crackling, and whistling, which rang out in his ears.

Upon regaining Iris senses, Pierre found himself sitting on the ground, leaning with his arms against the sod ; the caisson, néar which he had been standing, was no more. Scattered on the singed grass there lay only scorched green boards and rags, and a horse, clattering with the remnants of a shaft, galloped past him, while another was lying on the ground like Pierre, and whining in a long-drawn, piercing manner.

XXXII.

Beside himself with fear, Pierre sprang up and ran back to the battery, as to the only refuge from all the terrors that surrounded him.

Just as he entered the entrenchment, he noticed that no discharges were heard in the battery, but that some people were doing something there. Pierre did not have time to make out who these people were. He saw the senior colonel lying with his back toward him on the rampart, as though examining something below, and a soldier, whom he had specially noticed, tearing himself away from some men who were holding his hand, and crying, ” Brothers ! ” and something else.

He had no time to make out that the colonel was dead, that the soldier who was shouting ” Brothers ! ” was a captive, and that before his eyes another soldier had been stabbed in the back. He had barely run into the entrenchment, when a lean, sallow-faced, perspiring man in a blue uniform, with a sword in his hand, ran into him, shouting something. Instinctively warding off the blow, for they had run into each other without seeing one another, Pierre spread out his arms and grabbed this man (it was a French officer) by the shoulder with one hand, and by the neck with the other. The officer dropped his sword and took Pierre by his collar.

For a few seconds both of them looked with frightened eyes at each other’s unfamiliar faces, and both were in doubt about what they had done, and what they were to do. ” Am I made a prisoner, or have I made a prisoner

still sitting at the edge of the rampart, rolled up as before, in a pool of blood. The red-faced soldier was still contracting his muscles, but he was not taken away.

” Now they will leave it all ! Now they will be terrified at what they have done ! ” thought Pierre, aimlessly following a mass of stretchers that were moving away from the field of battle.

But the sun, shrouded by smoke, was still standing high, and in front, and especially at the left, near Seménovskoe, something was seething in the smoke, and the din of volleys and the cannonade not only did not die down, but grew desperately stronger, like a man who shrieks with the expenditure of his last strength.

XXXIII.

The chief action of the battle of Borodino took place within seven thousand feet, between Borodino and Bagration’s flèches. (Outside of this space, on one side, a demonstration had been made, in the middle of the day, by Uvarov’s cavalry, and, on the other, a conflict occurred beyond Ûtitsa between PoniatOwski and TuchkOv ; but these were two separate actions, weak in comparison with what took place in the centre of the field of battle.)

In the field between Borodind and the flèches near the forest, in an open expanse, visible from both sides, the chief action of the battle took place in the most guileless and simple manner.

The battle began by a cannonade on both sides from several hundreds of guns.

Then, when the smoke shrouded the whole field, there moved in this smoke (on the side of the French), on the right, two divisions of Dessaix and Oompans, against the flèches, and on the left, the regiments of the viceroy, against Borodind.

From the Shevardind redoubt, on which Napoleon stood, the flèches were a verst distant, while Borodind was more than two versts distant in a bee-line, therefore Napoleon was unable to see what was going on there, the more so since the smoke, mixing with the mist, shrouded this whole locality. The soldiers of Dessaix’s division, which moved against the flèches, could be seen only so long as they did not descend to the ravine, which separated them from the flèches. The moment they went down there, the smoke from the discharges of the muskets and from the ordnance in the flèches became so dense that it shrouded the whole slope on the other side of the ravine. Through the smoke there flashed something black, apparently men, and now and then the gleam of bayonets. But it was impossible to tell from the Shevardind redoubt whether they were in motion or standing still, whether they were Frenchmen or Russians.

The sun went up bright and beat with its slanting rays straight into the face of Napoleon, who was shielding his eyes with his hand and looking at the flèches. The smoke lodged in front of the flèches, and now it seemed that the smoke was in motion, and now again that the troops were moving. Occasionally the shouts of men could be heard through the volleys, but it was impossible to tell what they were doing there.

Napoleon, standing on the mound, was looking through a field-glass, and through the small circle of the glass he saw smoke and men, now his own, and now the Russians ; but where that which he saw was he did not know when he again looked at the scene with the naked eye.

He descended from the mound and began to walk up and down in front of it. Now and then he stopped to listen to the discharges and to look at the field of battle.

Not only from the spot below the mound where he was standing, not only from its summit, where stood a few of his generals, but even on the flèches themselves, where there were, either together or in succession, Russians and Frenchmen, dead, wounded, and living, frightened or frantic soldiers, it was impossible to tell what was going on in that spot. In the course of several hours, amidst an incessant din from the musketry-fire and from the discharge of the large guns, there appeared in this spot now Russians, now Frenchmen, now infantry, now cavalry ; they appeared, fell, shot, came in contact, without knowing what to do with each other, shouted, and ran back.

From the field of battle kept galloping to Napoleon his especial adjutants, and the orderlies of his marshals, to report about the progress of the battle ; but all these reports were false, because in the heat of battle it is impossible to tell what is going on at a given moment, and because many adjutants did not reach the actual battlefield, and reported only what they had heard from others ; and also because, while an adjutant rode the two or three versts which separated him from Napoleon, the information which he was bringing was no longer reliable. Thus an adjutant came galloping from the viceroy with the news that Borodino was taken, and that the bridge over the Kolocha was in the hands of the French. The adjutant asked Napoleon whether he wished to order the troops to cross. Napoleon commanded the troops to draw up on the other side and wait; but, not only while Napoleon was giving this command, but even when the adjutant had barely left Borodino, the bridge was already retaken and burnt by the Russians, in the very hand-to-hand fight in which Pierre had taken part in the beginning of the battle.

An adjutant galloping up from the flèches, with a pale and frightened face, reported to Napoleon that the attack was repulsed and that Oompans was wounded and Davont killed, whereas the flèches were being occupied by another part of the troops, while the adjutant was told that the French had been driven back, and Davout was alive and only slightly bruised. In conformity with such necessarily false reports, Napoleon gave his orders, which were executed before they were given, or could not be, and never were executed.

The marshals and generals, who were at closer range to the field of battle, but who, like Napoleon himself, did not participate in the battle itself, and who only occasionally rode under the fire, made their own dispositions, without consulting Napoleon, and gave their own orders about whither and whence they were to shoot, and where the mounted troops were to ride, and the infantry to run. But even their own dispositions, like those of Napoleon, were but rarely and to a very small degree carried out. As a rule the opposite of what they ordered actually took place. Soldiers who were ordered to advance, coming into the range of grape-shot, ran back ; soldiers who were commanded to stand their ground, seeing opposite them Russian troops, which had unexpectedly appeared from somewhere, at times rushed forward, and the cavalry galloped without orders to pursue the fleeing Russians. Thus two regiments of the cavalry galloped across the Seménovskoe ravine and, having barely reached the summit, turned around and at full speed rode back again. Even thus the footsoldiers moved, running frequently to some spot, where they had not been ordered to advance. All the dispositions about where and when to move the ordnance, when to send out the infantry to fire, and when the cavalry to crush the Russian footsoldiers, — all these dispositions were made by the nearest chiefs of the parts, who happened to be in the ranks, without consulting Ney, Davout, Murat, let alone Napoleon. They were not afraid to be called to accounts for not carrying out orders, or for their arbitrary commands, because in a battle the main question lies in that which is most precious to man, — in his personal life, and at times salvation seems to present itself in flight, and at other times in advancing, and these men, who were in the thickest of the fight, acted according to the exigencies of the moment. In reality, all these movements forward and backward did not mitigate or change the condition of the troops. All their attacks and rushes against each other produced hardly any harmful results ; death and mutilation were caused by the bullets and balls that flew everywhere over this extent of space, over which the men were rushing to and fro. The moment these men emerged from the locality over which flew the

bullets and balls, their commanders, who occupied positions behind them, at once formed them and subjected them to discipline, and, under the influence of this discipline, they again led them into the region of the fire, where they again, under the influence of the terror of death, lost their discipline and rushed about according to the accidental mood of the crowd.

XXXIV.

Napoleon’s generals, Davout, Ney, and Murat, who were in the neighbourhood of this sphere of fire, and who now and then rode into it, several times led enormous masses of troops in excellent order into this sphere. But, contrary to what had invariably happened in all former battles, instead of the expected news that the enemy had retreated, the orderly masses of the troops returned from there in disorganized, frightened crowds. Again they formed them, but the number of the men was continually growing less. In the middle of the day Murat sent his adjutant to Napoleon, to send him reinforcements.

Napoleon was sitting at the foot of the mound and drinking punch, when Murat’s adjutant came galloping to him, to assure him that the Russians would certainly be crushed, if his Majesty would give him another division.

” Reinforcements ? ” thought Napoleon. ” What reinforcement do they want, since they have in their hands half of the army, which is directed against the weak, unfortified wing of the Russians ? “

” Dites au roi de Naples” Napoleon said, sternly, “ qu’il n’est pas midi et que je ne vois pas encore clair sur mon échiquier. Allez ! ”

The pretty boyish adjutant with long hair, without taking his hand off the hat and heaving a deep sigh, galloped back to the place where they were killing people.

Napoleon rose and, calling up Caulaincourt and Berthier, began to talk to them about matters which had no reference to the battle.

In the middle of the conversation, which was beginning to interest Napoleon, Berthier’s eyes turned to a general with his suite, riding toward the mound on a sweaty horse. It was Belliard. He dismounted, with a rapid gait walked over to Napoleon, and loudly and boldly began to prove the necessity of reinforcements. He gave his word of honour that the Russians would perish if the emperor gave them another division.

Napoleon jerked his shoulders and, without making any reply, continued his promenade. Belliard began to speak in a loud and animated voice to the generals of the suite, who surrounded him.

” You are very excited, Belliard,” said Napoleon, again approaching the general. ” It is easy to make a mistake in the heat of the fire. Go back and see, and then come back to me ! “

Belliard had not yet had time to disappear from view when from the other side a new messenger arrived from the field of battle.

” Eh bien, qu’est-ee qu’il y a ?” said Napoleon, in the tone of a man who is irritated by constant interruptions.

” Sire, le prince — ” began the adjutant.

” Asks for reinforcements ? ” Napoleon interposed with an angry gesture.

The adjutant bent his head affirmatively and began to make his report ; but the emperor turned away from him, took two steps, stopped, turned back, and called up Berthier.

“We must give him the reserves,” he said, with a light motion of his hands. ” Whom shall we send there ? What is your opinion ? ” he turned to Berthier, that ” oison que j’ai fait aigle,” as he later called him.

” Emperor, we should send the division of Claparède,” said Berthier, who knew by heart all the divisions, regiments, and battalions.

Napoleon nodded his head in assent.

The adjutant galloped up to Claparède’s division, and a few minutes later the young Guard, which had been standing back of the mound, started. Napoleon looked in silence in that direction.

“ No,” he suddenly turned to Berthier, ” I cannot send Claparède. Send Friant’s division.”

Although there was no advantage gained by sending Friant’s division instead of that of Claparède, and although it caused an apparent inconvenience and delay to stop Claparède and send Triant in his place, the command was punctually executed. Napoleon did not see that in relation to his troops he played that rôle of a doctor who with his medicaments only retards the cure, — a rôle which he comprehended and condemned so correctly.

Friant’s division, like the rest, disappeared in the smoke of the battlefield. Adjutants kept galloping from various sides, and all, as though having plotted together, repeated one and the same tiling. All asked for reinforcements ; all said that the Russians held their ground and poured ” un feu d’enfer f from which the French army melted away.

Napoleon sat in meditation in a folding-chair.

Beausset, who was fond of travelling, and who had not eaten anything since morning, walked over to the emperor and respectfully proposed to his Majesty to partake of a breakfast.

” I hope that now I may already congratulate your Majesty on a victory,” he said.

Napoleon silently shook his head in sign of dissent. Assuming that the dissent had reference to the victory, and not to the breakfast, Beausset took the liberty of remarking jestingly, though respectfully, that there were no causes in the world which could prevent a man from breakfasting, whenever it was possible to get something to eat.

” Allez-vous — ” Napoleon suddenly said, with a gloomy expression, turning away.

A blissful smile of compassion, repentance, and transport beamed on the face of Beaussct, and he walked with a swimming motion to the other generals.

Napoleon was experiencing a heavy feeling, like what is experienced by an ever lucky winner, who has been in the habit of recklessly staking his money, who has always been winning, and who, at a moment when he has carefully considered all the chances of the game, feels that the more his step has been well considered, the surer will his loss be.

The troops were the same, the generals the same, the preparations, the disposition, the ” proclamation courte et énergique ” were all the same, he himself was the same, he knew this, nay, he knew that he was now much more experienced and skilful than before ; even the enemy was the same as at Austerlitz and Friedland; but the terrible swing of the arm fell powerless, as though bewitched.

All the former methods, which had invariably been crowned by success, — the concentration of the batteries at one point, the attack of the reserves to break through the lines, the attack of the cavalry — “ des hommes de fer,” all these methods had already been employed, and not only was there no victory, but from all directions came exactly the same reports about generals killed and wounded, about the necessity of sending reinforcements, about the impossibility of dislodging the Russians, and about the disorganization of the troops.

Formerly, after two or three dispositions, two or three phrases, the marshals and adjutants used to gallop up with cheerful faces and with congratulations, reporting the trophies in the throngs of the captives, “ des faisceaux de drapeaux et d’aigles ennemis,” and in cannon and in the baggagetrains, and Murat asked only permission to allow the cavalry to pursue in order to seize more of the baggagetrain. Thus it had been at Lodi, at Marengo, at Arcole, at Jena, at Austerlitz, at Wagram, and so forth. Now, something terrible was taking place with the troops.

In spite of the announcement that the flèches were taken, Napoleon saw that it was not at all what had happened before in all former battles. He saw that the same feeling was present in all the men who surrounded him, and who were experienced in the matter of battles. All the faces were sad ; all the eyes avoided each other. Beausset was the only one who did not understand the meaning of what was going on. After his long experience in war, Napoleon knew well what it meant for the attacking party, after having exhausted all efforts for a period of eight hours, not to win a battle. He knew that it was almost a lost battle, and that the least eventuality could, — at this strained point of wavering, at which the battle had now arrived, — cause both his destruction and that of his army.

As he passed in review all this strange Russian campaign, in which not a single battle had been won, in which during two months no flags, no cannon, no corps of troops had been taken ; as he looked at the secretly sad faces of the -persons surrounding him, and heard the reports that the Russians were holding their own, — a terrible sensation, similar to what one experiences in dreams, took possession of him, and there occurred to him all the unfortunate accidents which might destroy him. The Russians might attack his left wing, or might break through his centre, or a stray ball might kill him. All this was possible. In his former battles he had considered only the possibilities of success ; but now an endless number of contingencies presented themselves to him, and he expected them all. Yes, it was all as in a dream, when a man imagines that a malefactor is attack-guided by him and to depend on him, and this work for the first time, on account of its unsuccessfulness, appeared useless and terrible to him.

One of the generals, riding up to Napoleon, permitted himself to suggest that the old Guard be brought into action. Ney and Berthier, who were standing near Napoleon, exchanged glances and smiled contemptuously at the senseless proposition of this general.

Napoleon lowered his head and for a long time remained silent.

” A huit cents lieux de France je ne ferai pas démolir ma garde ! ” he said, and, turning his horse, he rode back to Shevardino.

XXXV.

Kutuzov was sitting, with his gray head drooping and his heavy body relaxing on the same rug-covered bench, in the same spot where Pierre had seen him in the morning. He made no dispositions, and only agreed with, or dissented from, anything which was proposed to him.

“Yes, yes, do it!” he replied to all kinds of propositions. “ Yes, yes, ride down there, my dear, and take a look ! ” he turned now to one, and nbw to another of those near him ; or ” No, it is not necessary, — we will wait awhile,” he would say. He listened to all the reports which were brought to him, and gave orders whenever the officers demanded them ; but, while listening to the reports, he was not interested in the meaning of the words, but in the expression of the faces and in the tone of speech of those who reported to him. He knew from his long military experience, and comprehended with his old man’s mind, that one man could not guide hundreds of thousands of soldiers who were struggling with death ; he knew also that not the dispositions of the commanderin-chief decided the fate of a battle, nor the place where the armies stood, nor the number of guns and soldiers killed, but that intangible force, called the spirit of the army, and this force he watched and guided in so far as it lay in his power.

The general expression of Kutuzov’s face was that of a concentrated, calm attention, and of a tension which with difficulty overcame the fatigue of his feeble old body.

off. At the centre, the French did not move farther than Borodino. On the left flank, Uvdrov’s cavalry caused the French to run.

After two o’clock the attacks of the French ceased. On all the faces of those who arrived from the field of battle, as also on the faces of those who stood about him, Kutuzov read the expression of tension which had reached the highest degree. Kutuzov was satisfied beyond all expectation by the success of the day. But his power of physical endurance was leaving the old man. His head several times sank low, as though falling, and he kept dozing off. Dinner was brought to him.

Aid-de-camp Wolzogen, the same who, riding past Prince Andréy, had said that the war ought to be “ transferred into space,” and whom Bagration hated so, rode up to Kutuzov while he was dining. Wolzogen came from Barclay with a report on the state of affairs at the left flank. Sensible Barclay de Tolly, seeing the masses of the wounded in flight and the disorganized rear of the army, and weighing all the circumstances in the case, decided that the battle was lost, and sent his favourite to the commanderin-chief with this information.

Kutuzov was munching a roast chicken with difficulty, and he looked at Wolzogen with merry, blinking eyes. Wolzogen, carelessly stretching his legs and with a half-contemptuous smile on his lips, walked over to Kutuzov, lightly touching the visor of his cap with his hand.

Wolzogen treated his Most Serene Highness with a certain affected carelessness, which was to show that he, as a highly trained military man, left it to the Russians to make an idol of this old, useless man, but that he himself knew with whom he was dealing. ” Der alte Herr ” (thus the Germans called Kutuzov in their circle) ” macht sich ganz bequem,” thought Wolzogen, and, casting a stern look at the plates which were standing before Kutuzov, he began to report to the “ old gentleman ” the state of affairs on the left flank just as Barclay had ordered him to do, and as he himself had seen and comprehended it.

“ All the points of our position are in the hands of the enemy, and we cannot retake them, because we have no troops ; they are running, and there is no possibility of stopping their flight,” he reported.

Stopping to chew, Kutuzov gazed in surprise at Wolzogen, as though he did not understand what he was being told. Wolzogen, noticing the agitation of the “alter Herr” said, with a smile :

” I did not consider it right for me to conceal from your Serenity that which I have seen. The troops are completely disorganized — ”

“You saw it? You saw it?” Kutuzov shouted, with a scowl, getting up with a start and moving up against Wolzogen. “How — how dare you!” he cried, making threatening gestures with his trembling hands, and choking from excitement. ” How dare you, dear sir, tell me such a thing? You know nothing. Transmit in my name to General Barclay the information that his news is false, and that the general course of the battle is better known to me, the commanderin-chief, than to him.”

Wolzogen wanted to retort, but Kutuzov interrupted him :

“ The enemy has been repulsed on the left, and is beaten on the right flank. If you have not seen well, dear sir, then do not take the liberty of telling me that which you do not know. Please to go to General Barclay and inform him of my determination to attack the enemy tomorrow,” said Kutuzov, sternly.

All were silent, and one could hear only the heavy breathing of the gasping old general.

“ They are beaten off at every point, for which I thank God and our brave army. The enemy is vanquished, and tomorrow we will drive him out of the sacred Russian land,” said Kutuzov, making the sign of the cross ; he suddenly sobbed from the tears that rushed to his eyes.

Wolzogen, shrugging his shoulders and contorting his lips, went silently to one side, wondering ” über diese Eingenommenheit des alten Herrn.”

“ Yes, here is my hero,” Kutuzov said to the handsome, black-haired general, who just then came up the mound. It was Raévski, who had passed the whole day at the chief point of the field of Borodind.

Raévski reported that the troops were standing their ground firmly, and that the French no longer dared to attack them.

Having listened to his report, Kutuzov said in French :

” Vous ne pensez donc pas comme les autres que nous sommes obliges de nous retirer ? ”

” Au contraire, votre Altesse, dans les affaires indécises c’est toujours le plus opiniâtre qui reste victorieux,” replied Raévski, ” et mon opinion — ! ”

” Kaysarov ! ” Kutuzov called up his adjutant. ” Sit down and write the order of the day for tomorrow. And you,” he turned to another, ” ride down the line, and inform them that tomorrow we will attack.”

While the conversation was going on with Raévski and the order was being dictated, Wolzogen returned from Barclay, reporting that General Barclay de Tolly would like to have written confirmation of the order, which the field-marshal had given.

Without looking at Wolzogen, Kutuzov commanded this order to be written down, which the former commanderin-chief wanted to have in writing, in order to avoid liis personal responsibility.

And by dint of that invincible, mysterious bond, which throughout the army kept up the same mood, called the spirit of the army, and which formed the main nerve of the war, Kutuzov’s words and his order for the battle on the following day were simultaneously communicated to all the ends of the army.

It was far from being the words themselves, or the order itself which was communicated to the most distant links of this chain ; there was not even anything resembling what Kutuzov had said in what was being communicated to all the ends of the army ; but the meaning of these words was communicated everywhere, because what Kutuzov had said originated not in clever combinations, but in that feeling which lay in the heart of the commanderin-chief, as much as in the heart of every Russian.

And having learned that on the morrow we were to attack the enemy, and hearing from the higher spheres of the army the confirmation of what they wanted to believe, the exhausted, wavering soldiers were consoled and animated with courage.

XXXVI.

Prince Andrey’s regiment was in the reserves, which up to two o’clock stood back of Seménovskoe in inaction, under a scathing artillery-fire. At two o’clock the regiment, having lost more than two hundred men, was moved forward on the trampled down oat-field, that interval between Seménovskoe and the Mound Battery, on which on that day thousands of men were killed, and against which, at two o’clock, was directed an intensified, concentrated fire from several hundred pieces of the enemy’s ordnance.

Without leaving the spot, and without having emptied a single charge, the regiment lost another third of its men. In front and especially on the right side the guns roared in the hovering smoke, and from the mysterious sphere of the smoke, which shrouded the whole locality ahead, there emerged without cessation the swiftly hissing balls and languorously whistling grenades. Occasionally, as though taking a rest, there passed fifteen minutes when all the balls and grenades flew past, but sometimes several men were struck in a course of a minute, and all the time the dead were dragged aside and the wounded were carried away.

With every new detonation the chances of life were more and more diminished for those who had not yet been killed. The regiment stood in battalion columns at a distance of three hundred steps, and yet all the men of the regiment were all the time under the influence of the same mood. All the men were equally taciturn and gloomy. But rarely conversation could be heard in the ranks, and this died down every time a projectile fell and the shout was heard, “ The stretchers ! ” Most of the time the men of the regiment, by order of their officers, sat on the ground. One took off his shako and carefully opened and closed the folds ; another, crushing the dry clay in his hands, was burnishing his bayonet ; a third had loosened the strap of his sabrctasche, and was buckling it more tightly ; a fourth carefully unwrapped and relaid his leg rags and put on his boots. Some built little houses from the tufts in the field, or wove whips from the stubble. All seemed to be lost in their occupations. When men were wounded or killed ; when the stretchers started ; when our soldiers returned ; when large masses of the enemy could be seen through the smoke, — nobody paid the least attention to these circumstances. But when the artillery or cavalry passed in front, and the movements of our infantry were visible, approving remarks could be heard on all sides. But the greatest attention fell to the share of entirely foreign events which had nothing to do with the battle. It looked as though the attention of these spiritually exhausted men found relief in the habitual occurrences of every-day life.

A battery of the artillery passed in front of the regiment. The off horse hitched to one of the artillery caissons stepped on its traces. “ Oh, there, look at the off horse ! Straighten it out ! She will fall ! Oh, there, don’t you see ? ” they shouted from all the ranks of the regiment alike. Another time the attention of every one was directed to a cinnamon-coloured little dog with a firmly raised tail, which, God knows whence, was running before the ranks in a frightened trot and suddenly whimpered at the sound of a projectile striking near by, and, taking its tail between its legs, ran away to one side. The whole regiment resounded with guffaws and whoop-ings. But the diversions of this kind lasted only minutes, while the men had beeu standing more than eight hours without food and without work under the unceasing terror of death, and their pale and frowning faces grew all the time paler and more frowning.

Prince Andréy, as pale and frowning as all the men of the regiment, kept pacing up and down in the meadow, from one balk to the other near the oat-field, with his arms behind his back and his head drooping. He had nothing to do and no orders to give. Everything worked itself out without his interference. The killed were dragged away beyond the line ; the wounded were carried away ; the ranks closed up. If the soldiers started to run, they soon returned.

At first Prince Andréy, regarding it as his duty to stir up the valour of his soldiers and to give them an example, marched up and down the ranks ; later he convinced himself that he had nothing to teach them. All the powers of his soul, like those of any soldier, were instinctively directed only toward keeping himself from contemplating the horror of the situation they were in. He walked over the meadow, dragging his feet along, crumpling the grass, and observing the dust which covered his boots ; now he strode with long steps, trying to get into the footsteps left by the reapers ; now, counting his steps, he calculated how many times he must pass from one balk to the other in order to make a verst ; now he picked the wormwood, which grew on the balk, and crushed its flowers in his hands, and sniffed their strong, pungent odour. Nothing was left of all the mental labour of the day before. He was not thinking of anything. With his fatigued ears he listened to the same sounds, distinguishing between the whistling of the flying projectiles and the boom of the discharges. He looked at the curiously watching faces of the men of the first battalion, and waited.

“ There it is — again toward us ! ” he thought, listening to the whistling sound which was approaching from the shrouded region of smoke. ” One, another ! One more ! It struck this time ! ” He stopped and looked at the ranks. « No, it has carried across ; but this one has hit ! ” And he again resumed his walk, essaying to take long steps so as to reach the balk in sixteen steps. A whistle and a blow! The dry earth was torn up within five paces from him, and the ball disappeared. No doubt it had disabled a number of men ; a large crowd gathered around the second battalion.

” Adjutant,” he shouted, “command them not to crowd SO I

Having carried out the order, the adjutant started back to Prince Andréy. The commander of a battalion was riding up from another direction.

“ Look out ! ” was heard the frightened shout of a soldier, and, whistling in its rapid flight and settling on the ground, like a bird, a grenade plashed with a subdued noise within two feet of Prince Andréy, near the horse of the commander of the battalion. The horse, -without asking whether it was right or wrong to give expression to its fear, was the first to start back. Snorting and rearing, and almost throwing off the major, it jumped to one side. The terror of the horse was communicated to the soldiers. “ Lie down ! ” cried the adjutant, who himself fell to the ground. Prince Andréy stood in indecision. The grenade, smoking, whirled like a humming-top between him and the prostrate adjutant, on the edge of the ploughed field and the meadow, near a wormwood plant.

“ Is this death ? ” thought Prince Andréy, looking with an entirely new, envious glance at the grass, the wormwood, and the streak of smoke, which was whirling from the rotating black balk “ I cannot, I do not want to die ! I love life, I love this grass, this earth, this air — ” He was thinking all this and at the same time was conscious of being watched.

“Shame, Mr. Officer!” he said to the adjutant. ” What — ” He did not finish. At one and the same moment there was heard an explosion and the jangle of the splinters, as though from a broken window-pane, and there was spread the stifling odour of smoke, and Prince Andréy darted sidewise and, raising up his hands, fell down on his breast.

Several officers ran up to him. From the right side of his abdomen a large spot of blood had trickled into the grass. The militiamen were called with the stretchers, and they stopped back of the officers. Prince Andréy was lying on his breast, his face reaching down to the grass. He breathed stertorously.

“ What are you standing for ? Walk up ! ”

The peasants came up and took him by his shoulders and legs, but he groaned pitifully, and the peasants exchanged glances and again set him down.

“Take him up and put him on the stretcher all the same ! ” somebody exclaimed. He was again taken up by the shoulders and placed on the stretcher.

“ 0 God, my God ! What is this ? The abdomen ! This is the end ! 0 Lord ! ” voices were heard among the officers. “ It whizzed by me within a hair’s breadth,” said the adjutant.

The peasants, having fixed the stretcher on their shoulders, hurried off over a path which they had tramped down, toward the ambulance.

“ Keep step ! Oh, you country louts ! ” shouted an officer, stopping the peasants, who were walking with an uneven step and were shaking the stretcher.

“ Fall in, Khvédor, oh, Khvédor,” said the peasant in front.

“ Now this is like it,” the hind man said, merrily, having fallen in with the step of the front man.

” Your Serenity, prince ! ” Timokhin said, in a quivering voice, running up and looking into the stretcher.

Prince Andréy opened his eyes and looked from the stretcher, into wliich his head had sunk, at him who was speaking, and again closed his eyelids.

The militiamen brought Prince Andréy to the woods, where wagons stood, and where the ambulance was. The latter consisted of three tents with their folds thrown back, standing at the edge of a birch grove. In the birch wood stood horses and wagons. The horses were eating oats out of nose-bags, and the sparrows flew down to them and picked up the spilled kernels. The ravens, scenting blood, flitted from birch to birch, croaking impatiently. Around the tents, occupying more than two desyatinas of space, lay, sat, stood bloodstained men in all kinds of uniforms. About the wounded stood crowds of bearers, with gloomy and attentive faces, and the officers in charge of this place in vain drove them away. The soldiers paid no attention to the officers, but stood leaning against the stretchers and fixedly looked at what was going on before them, as though attempting to comprehend the oppressive meaning of tliis spectacle. From the tents proceeded loud weeping and pitiful groans. Now and then assistants ran out to fetch water and to point out those that were to be taken in. The wounded, waiting at the tent for their turns, snored, groaned, wept, cried, scolded, and asked for vddka. Some were delirious. Prince Andréy, as a commander of a regiment, the stretcher-bearers, stepping over the unattended patients, carried up close to one of the tents, where they stopped, waiting for further orders. Prince Andréy opened his eyes and for a long time could not understand what was going on around him. The meadow, the wormwood, the ploughed field, the black, whirling ball, and Ids impassioned outburst of love of life, all that passed through his imagination. Within two paces from him a tall, handsome, black-haired under-officer, with a bandaged head, was leaning against a bough and, speaking aloud, was attracting everybody’s attention. He had been wounded by bullets in his head and one leg. Around him, listening eagerly to what he was saying, gathered a throng of wounded men and of bearers.

« We whacked him so from down there that he threw up everything, and we took their very king,” cried the soldier, looking about him with feverishly glistening black eyes. ” If at that time the reserves had come up, my friend, their name wouldn’t be left, because I am telling you the truth — “

Prince Andréy, like all those who surrounded the storyteller, looked with a beaming glance at him and experienced a consoling sensation. “ But what difference does it make now ? ” he thought. ” And what will be there, and what has been here ? Why was I so sorry to give up life ? There was something in this life which I did not understand and do not understand now.”

XXXVII.

One of the doctors in a bloodstained apron and with small, bloodstained hands, in one of which, between his little finger and thumb (in order not to soil it), he was holding a cigar, came out of the tent. This doctor raised his head and began to look to one side, but above the wounded soldiers. Evidently he wanted to rest a little. Having turned his head to the right and left for awhile, he sighed and lowered his eyes.

“ Immediately,” he replied to the words of the assistant, who was pointing to Prince Andréy. Then he ordered the assistant to carry him into the tent.

A murmur rose in the throng of the wounded men who were waiting.

” Apparently gentlemen will live by themselves even in the hereafter,” muttered one.

Prince Andréy was carried in and placed on a freshly cleared table, from which an assistant was rinsing something. Prince Andréy could not make out in detail what there was in the tent. The pitiful groans on all sides, and the tormenting pain in his thigh, his abdomen, and his spine diverted his attention. Everytliing he saw about him blended for him in one general impression of naked, bloodstained human flesh, which, it seemed, filled the whole low tent, just as a few weeks before, on that warm August day, the same flesh had filled the dirty pond on the Smolénsk highway. Yes, it was the same flesh, the same chair à canon, the sight of which even then, as though predicting the occurrences of this day, had filled him with horror.

In the tent there were three tables. Two of them were occupied; on the third Prince Andréy was placed. For some time he was left alone, and he involuntarily saw what was taking place on the other two tables. On the nearest table sat a Tartar, evidently a Cossack, to judge from the uniform, which was thrown down near by. Four soldiers were holding him. A doctor in spectacles was cutting at something in his cinnamon-coloured, muscular back.

“Ugh ! Ugh ! Ugh ! ” the Tartar grunted, and suddenly, raising up his swarthy, bony, snub-nosed face, and displaying his white teeth, began to tug, pull away, and whine with a penetrating, drawn-out whimpering. At the other table, about which a large number of men were crowding, a patient, a plump man with his head thrown back, was lying on his spine (the curly hair, its colour, and the form of the head seemed strangely familiar to Prince Andréy). Several assistants lay down on his breast and held him down. His wliite, large, full leg kept jerking incessantly, rapidly, and frequently, with feverish trepidation. This man was sobbing convulsively and choking from tears. Two doctors — one of them was pale and trembling — silently were doing something to the other, red leg of this man. Having attended to the Tartar, over whom an overcoat was thrown, the doctor, in spectacles, wiping off his hands, walked over to Prince Andréy.

He looked at Prince Andréy’s countenance and hurriedly turned his face away.

“Undress him! Why are you so slow?” he shouted angrily at his assistants.

Prince Andréy recalled his first, most distant childhood, when a doctor’s assistant with hurrying, bare arms unbuttoned his coat and took it off. The doctor bent low over the wound, felt it, and drew a deep sigh. Then he made a sign to somebody. The tormenting pain in his abdomen made Prince Andréy lose consciousness. When he awoke, the shattered bones of his thigh had been removed, chunks of flesh had been cut off, and his wound was dressed. Water was being sprinkled on his face. When Prince Andréy opened his eyes, the doctor leaned over him, silently kissed him on his lips, and hurriedly walked away.

After this terrible suffering, Prince Andréy felt a blissful sensation such as he had not experienced for a long time : all the best and happiest moments of his life, especially his most remote childhood, when they used to undress him and put him in a crib, when the nurse used to put him to sleep with songs, when, burying his head in the pillows, he felt happy in the mere consciousness of life, — presented themselves to his imagination, not as the past, but as reality.

The doctors were stirring about the wounded man, the contours of whose features seemed familiar to Prince Andréy : he was raised up, and they tried to quiet him. ” Show me — Oh, oh, oh ! Oh ! Oh, oh, oh, oh ! ” was heard his terrified groaning, which succumbed to the suffering, interrupted now and then by sobs. Hearing this groan, Prince Andréy wanted to weep. Whether it was that he was dying without glory, or because he hated to part with life, or because of those irretrievable recollections of childhood, or liecause he was suffering, because others were suffering, and that man so pitifully groaned in his presence, — he felt like weeping childish, kindly, almost joyful tears.

The wounded man was shown an amputated leg in a boot, with clotted blood. ” Oh ! Oh, oh, oh ! ” he sobbed like a woman. The doctor, who was standing in front of the wounded man, shielded his face and walked away.

“ My God ! What is this ? Why is he here ? ” Prince Andréy said to himself.

In the unfortunate, sobbing, feeble man, whose leg had just been amputated, he recognized Anatdl Kuragin. Anatol was being held in the arms of attendants, and was offered a glass of water, the rim of which he was not able to hold with his quivering, swollen lips. Anatdl was sobbing aloud. ” Yes, it is he; this man is somehow closely and painfully connected with me,” thought Prince Andréy, still failing to grasp clearly what was before him. “ In what consists the connection of that man with my childhood, with my life ? ” he asked himself, without finding an answer. Suddenly a new, unexpected recollection from the pure world of childhood and love presented itself to Prince Andréy. He recalled Natasha as he had seen her the first time in the year 1810, at the ball, with her thin neck and arms, with her timorous and happy face, which was ready for outbursts of enthusiasm, and love and tenderness for her awoke in his soul more vividly and more strongly than ever. He now recalled the connection which existed between him and that man, who, through the tears that filled his swollen eyes, looked dimly at him. Prince Andrey recalled everything, and an ecstatic pity and love for this man filled his happy heart.

Prince Andréy was unable to restrain himself any longer and wept tender tears of love over other people and over himself, over their errors and over his own.

“ Compassion, love of our brothers, love of those who love us and who hate us, love of our enemies, — yes, the love which God himself preached upon earth, which Princess Marya told me of, and which I did not understand, — that is the reason why I hated to part from life, that is what is left for me, if I were to live. But now it is too late. I know it ! “

XXXVIII.

The terrible sight of the battlefield covered with corpses and wounded, in conjunction with his cold and with the news of the death or mutilation of twenty of the officers he knew well, and with the consciousness of the impotence of his once powerful arm, produced an unexpected impression on Napoleon, who otherwise was fond of looking at the dead and killed, in order to put his firmness to the test (as he thought). On that day the terrible sight of the battlefield vanquished that firmness in which he supposed that his merit and his grandeur lay. He hurried away from the field of battle and returned to the mound of Shevardind. Sallow, puffed up, heavy, with bleared eyes, red nose, and hoarse voice, he sat in his folding-chair, instinctively listening to the sounds of the firing, and keeping his eyes in a drooping position. He was waiting in morbid anguish for the end of that action, of which he regarded himself as a participant, but which he was unable to stop. His personal human feeling for a short moment triumphed over that artificial apparition of life, which he had been serving for such a long time. He transferred to himself those sufferings and that death, which he had seen on the field of battle. The ponderousness of his head and the oppressive feeling in his breast reminded him of the possibility of suffering and of death for himself. During that moment he did not wish for Moscow, nor for victory, nor for glory (what other glory did he want?). The one thing he wanted now was rest, calm, and freedom. But when he had been on the height of Seménovskoe, the commander of the artillery had asked him to plant several additional guns on these heights, in order to strengthen the fire on the Russian troops crowding before Knyäzkovo. Napoleon had consented, and had given orders to have reported to him the effect which these batteries produced.

An adjutant arrived to say that by the emperor’s order two hundred pieces of ordnance were directed against the Russians, but that the Russians still stood their ground.

« Our fire tears out whole rows of them, but they still stand,” said the adjutant.

“Ils en veulent encore” said Napoleon,in a hoarse voice.

” Sire ?” asked the adjutant, who had not made out his words.

” Ils en veulent encore,” Napoleon, frowning, repeated in rasping voice, ” donnez-leur-en ! “

Even without his command they did that which he wished, and he gave the order only because he thought that an order was expected from him. And again he transferred himself to his former artificial world of apparitions of some kind of grandeur, and again (like a horse which walks on a tread-wheel, imagining that it is doing something for itself) he began submissively to carry out that cruel, sad, and painful inhuman rôle, which was destined for him.

And not only for this one hour and day was obscured the conscience of him who more than all the other participants in this affair bore the burden of all that was taking place ; never, to the end of his life, could he understand the good, the beauty, the truth, the meaning of his acts, which were too much opposed to the good and the true, too far removed from everything humane for him to have been able to understand their meaning. He could not renounce his acts, which were praised up by half the world, and so he had to renounce truth and goodness and every tiling humane.

Not on that day alone, when he was riding over the battlefield, which was covered with dead and mutilated people (as he thought, by his own will), did he, looking at these men, figure out how many Russians there were to each Frenchman, and, deceiving himself, find cause to rejoice because to each Frenchman there were five Russians. Not on that day alone did he write in a letter to Paris that ” le champ de bataille a été superbe,” because there were fifty thousand corpses upon it ; but even on the island of St. Helena, in the quiet of his solitude, where, he said, he intended to devote his leisure to the exposition of the great things he had done, he wrote:

” The Russian war was to have been the most popular of modem times: it was a war of good sense and true interests, a war of repose and security for all ; it was purely pacific and conservative.

” It was for the great cause, the end of hazards and the beginning of security. A new horizon, new labours would have been opened, full of weal and prosperity for all. The European system was already established ; it was only a question of organizing it.

” Satisfied on these great points and completely at rest on all sides, I, too, should have had my Congress and my Holy Alliance. These are ideas that have been stolen from me. In this union of the great sovereigns we should have treated our interests as a domestic matter, and should have accounted to the nations, as a clerk to his master.

” Europe in this manner would really have become soon one nation, and each individual, no matter where he travelled, would always have been in a common country. I should have demanded that all rivers be made navigable to all, that the sea be made common, and that the large permanent armies be reduced from then on to the single guard of the sovereigns.

” Upon my return to France, in the bosom of my great, strong, magnificent, tranquil, glorious country, I should have proclaimed its immutable limits ; every future war purely defensive ; every new aggrandisement antinational. I should have associated my son with the empire; my dictatorship would have been finished, and its constitutional reign would have begun.

” Paris would have been the capital of the world, and the French the envy of the nations!

” My leisure and my old days would have been consecrated, in company with the empress, and during the royal apprenticeship of my son, to visiting slowly, like a real country couple, with our own horses, all the corners of the empire, receiving complaints, redressing wrongs, and sowing everywhere and on all sides knowledge and benefactions.”

Napoleon, who had been destined by Providence for the sad, involuntary rôle of an executioner of the nations, assured himself that the aim of his deeds was the good of the nations, and that he could have guided the fates of millions and could have bestowed benefactions by means of power!

” Of the four hundred thousand men who crossed the Vistula,” he wrote further on about the Russian war, ” one-half were Austrians, Prussians, Saxons, Poles, Bavarians, Wiirtembergians, Mecklenburgians, Spaniards, Italians, Neapolitans. The imperial army, properly speaking, was fully one-third composed of Dutch, Belgians, inhabitants of the banks of the Rhine, Piedmontese, Swiss, Genoans, Tuscans, Romans, inhabitants of the thirty-second military division, of Bremen, Hamburg, etc.; it counted scarcely 140,000 men who spoke French. The expedition into Russia cost France itself less than fifty thousand men ; the Russian army, in its retreat from Vflna to Moscow, lost in the different battles four times as many as the French army ; the conflagration of Moscow cost the lives of one hundred thousand Russians, who died in the woods of cold and discomfort ; finally, in its march from Moscow to the Oder, the Russian army also was affected by the inclemency of the season : upon arriving at Vflna, it counted only fifty thousand men, and at Kälisz less than eighteen thousand men.”

He imagined that the war with Russia took place by his will, and the terror of what had taken place did not strike his soul. He boldly assumed the whole responsibility of the incident, and his obscured mind saw some measure of excuse in the fact that among the hundreds of thousands of men who perished, there were fewer Frenchmen than Hessians and Bavarians.

XXXIX.

Several tens of thousands of men lay dead in all kinds of positions and uniforms in the fields and meadows, which belonged to Messrs. Davÿdov and to Crown peasants, in the fields and meadows, on which the peasants of the villages of Borodino, Gorki, Shevardind, and Seménovskoe for hundreds of years had reaped their harvests and pastured their cattle together. At the ambulance the grass and earth was, for the space of a desyatina, saturated with blood. Crowds of wounded and unharmed men belonging to various commands, with frightened faces, on one side sauntered back to Mozhaysk, and on the other to Valuevo. Other crowds, exhausted and hungry, led by commanders, walked ahead. Others again stood in their places and continued shooting.

Over the whole field, which before had been so cheerful and beautiful, with its gleaming bayonets and its smoke in the morning sun, now hovered a mist of dampness and smoke, and a strange acid odour of saltpetre and blood was borne across it. The clouds gathered, and a light rain began to sprinkle on the dead, the wounded, the frightened, the exhausted, and the doubting men. It seemed to say : ” Enough, enough, men ! Stop ! Come to your senses ! What are you doing ? “

The men on either side, exhausted by lack of food and rest, began to have their misgivings about the righteousness of destroying each other, and in all the faces could be seen wavering, and in each soul there rose the same question : ” For what purpose, for whom shall I kill and be killed ? Kill whom you please, do what you wish, but I will not do it any longer ! ” This thought ripened toward evening in the soul of each. At any moment these men might become frightened at what they were doing, and throw everything away and run.

And though, toward the end of the battle, the men felt the whole enormity of their deed, although they would gladly have stopped, a certain incomprehensible, mysterious force kept guiding them, and the perspiring, powder-stained, and gory artillerists, — only one in every three being left now, — tripping over things and gasping from fatigue, brought the charges, loaded, aimed, applied the linstock; and the balls flew just as swiftly and just as cruelly from both sides, and crushed human bodies, and there went on that terrible work which is done not by the will of men, but by the will of Him who guides men and worlds.

Any one who could have seen the disorganized rear of the Russian army would have said that the French would have to make only one more small effort, and the Russian army would disappear ; and he who could have looked at the French would have said that the Russians would only have to make one more small effort, and the French would perish. But neither the French nor the Russians made this small effort, and the flame of the battle slowly burnt out.

The Russians did not make this effort because they were not attacking the French. In the beginning of the battle they only stood on the road to Moscow, barring it, and they continued to stand there at the end of the battle, as they had at its beginning. But even if the aim of the Russians had consisted in defeating the French, they could not have made this last effort because all the troops of the Russians were broken, and there was not a single part of the army which had not suffered in the battle, and the Russians, remaining in their places, had lost one-half of their army.

The French, with the memory of all their former victories during the period of fifteen years, with their conviction of the invincibleness of Napoleon, with their consciousness of having gained possession of a part of the battlefield, of having lost only one-fourth of their men, and of having still an untouched Guard of twenty thousand men, could easily have made that effort. Some historians say that all Napoleon needed to have done was to have given up his untouched old Guard in order to have won the battle. To speak of what might have been if Napoleon had given up his Guard, is the same as if one were to talk of what would happen if autumn were changed to spring. It could not have been. Napoleon did not give up the Guard, not because he did not want to do so, but because he could not do so. All the generals, officers, and soldiers of the French army knew that this could not be done, because the fallen spirit of the army did not permit it.

It was not merely Napoleon who experienced that feeling which resembled a dream, when the terrible swing of the arm falls powerlessly, but all the generals, all the soldiers of the French army who took part, or who did not take part, after all the experiences of former battles (when the enemy ran after efforts only a tenth as great), experienced the same feeling of terror in the presence of an enemy who, having lost one-half of his army, was standing as threatening at the end as in the beginning of the battle. The moral strength of the attacking French army was exhausted. Not the victory which is determined by the captured pieces of stuffs on poles, called flags, and by the space in which the troops have been standing, but the moral victory, which convinces the adversary of the superiority of the enemy and of his own impotence, had been obtained by the Russians at Borodind. The French invasion, like an infuriated animal which in his leap has received a mortal wound, felt its ruin ; but it could not stop, just as the Russian army, which was only half as strong, could not swerve. With the impulse already given, the French army might still roll on as far as Moscow ; but there, without any new efforts on the part of the Russian army, it had to perish, from the loss of blood from the mortal wound which it had received at Borodind. The direct outcome of the battle of Borodind was the aimless flight of Napoleon from Moscow, the return along the old Smolénsk road, the destruction of the invading army of five hundred thousand men, and the ruin of Napoleonic France, upon which the hand of the stronger-spirited adversary was for the first time placed at Borodind.

PART THE ELEVENTH

I.

For the human mind the absolute perpetuity of motion is incomprehensible. The laws of any motion become intelligible to man only when he considers units of this motion taken arbitrarily. At the same time, from this arbitrary division of uninterrupted motion into interrupted units rises the greater part of human aberrations.

There is a well-known sophism of the ancients that Achilles can never catch up with a turtle ahead of him, despite the fact that Achilles walks ten times as fast as the turtle : the moment Achilles will have walked the distance which separates him from the turtle, the turtle will have advanced one-tenth of that space ; Achilles will walk this tenth, when the turtle will walk one-hun-dreth, and so forth, ad infinitum. This problem appeared insoluble to the ancients. The absurdity of the solution (that Achilles can never catch up with the turtle) arose from the fact that they arbitrarily admitted interrupted units of motion, whereas the motion of both Achilles and the turtle went on uninterruptedly.

By assuming increasingly minute units of motion, we only approach the solution of the question, but never reach it. Only by introducing an infinitely small quantity and its ascending progression up to one-tenth, and by taking the sum of this geometric progression, do we arrive at a solution of the problem. A new branch of mathematics, having attained the art of treating infinitely small

quantities, now gives answers, in other, more complicated questions of motion, which formerly seemed to be insoluble.

This new branch of mathematics, which was unknown to the ancients, by introducing into the discussion of questions of motion infinitely small quantities, that is, such that by means of them the chief condition of motion (absolute perpetuity) is reestablished, corrects that inevitable error which the human mind cannot help making, when it considers separate units of motion instead of the uninterrupted motion itself.

Precisely the same thing takes place in the search for the laws of historical motion.

The motion of humanity, arising in an endless quantity of human wills, goes on in an uninterrupted succession. The discovery of the laws of this motion is the aim of history. But, in order to grasp the laws of the uninterrupted motion of the sum of all the wills of men, the human mind introduces arbitrary, interrupted units. The first method of history consists in taking an arbitrary series of uninterrupted events and examining it separately from the rest, whereas there is not, and there cannot be, the beginning of any event, but one event uninterruptedly flows from a preceding one. A second method is to consider the actions of one man, a king, a general, as the sum of the wills of men, whereas the sum of human wills is never expressed in the activity of one historical person.

Historical science in its motion assumes ever smaller and smaller units for its consideration, and in this way strives to approach the truth. But, however small these units which history introduces, we feel that the admission of a unit, separated from others, the admission of the Veginning of any phenomenon, and the admission that the wills of all men are expressed in the actions of one historical person, are in themselves false.

Every historical deduction, without the least effort on the part of criticism, falls to pieces like dust, without leaving anything behind, simply because criticism selects for its object of observation a more or less interrupted unit, which it always has a right to do, because the historical unit taken is always arbitrary.

Only by introducing the infinitely small unit for observation — the differential of history, that is, the homogeneous tendencies of men — and by acquiring the art of integrating (of taking the sums of the infinitesimals), can we hope to grasp the laws of history.

The first fifteen years of the nineteenth century in Europe represent an unusual motion of millions of people. Men leave their customary occupations, tend from one end of Europe to another, pillage, kill each other, triumph, and despair, and the whole course of life is changed for a number of years and shows an intensified motion, which at first keeps growing, and then falls off. What is the cause of this motion, or by what laws did it take place ? is what the human mind asks itself.

The historians, in reply to this question, expound to us the acts and speeches of a few dozen men, in one of the buildings of Paris, giving these acts and speeches the name of Revolution ; then they give a detailed biography of Napoleon and of a few sympathetic persons and a few hostile ones connected with him, tell us of the influence exerted by some of these persons on the others, and say : “ This is what has caused the motion, and these are its laws ! “

But the human mind refuses to believe this explanation ; it says straight out that the method of explanation is not correct, because under it the weaker phenomenon is assumed as the cause of the stronger. The sum of human wills made both the Revolution and Napoleon, and only the sum of these wills suffered and annihilated them.

” But every time that there were conquests, there were conquerors ; every time that there were revolutions in a country, there were great men,” says history. Indeed, every time that conquerors made their appearance, there were wars, replies human reason, but that does not prove that the conquerors were the cause of wars, or that it should be possible to find the laws of war in the personal activity of one man. Every time I look at my watch and see the hand approaching ten, I hear them commence ringing the bells in the neighbouring church ; but from the fact that the bells are rung ever)’ time when the hand of the watch approaches ten o’clock, I have no right to conclude that the position of the hand is the cause of the movement of the bells.

Every time I see the motion of a locomotive, I hear the sound of a whistle and see the opening of a throttle and the motion of the wheels; but from this I have no right to conclude that the whistle and the motion of the wheels are the causes of the movement of the locomotive.

The peasants say that a cold wind blows in a late spring, because the oak buds are unfolding, and, indeed, a cold wind does blow every spring when the oak begins to unfold its buds. But, although the cause of the cold wind which blows at the unfolding of the oak-tree is unknown to me, I cannot agree with the peasants that the unfolding of the oak buds is the cause of the cold wind, simply because the force of the wind lies outside the influence of the buds. I only see the coincidence of those conditions which are to be found in every vital phenomenon, and I see that, no matter how carefully I may look at the watch hand, the throttle and the wheels of the locomotive, and the buds of the oak-tree, I shall not find out the cause of the ringing, of the motion of the locomotive, and of the vernal wind. In order to learn these, I must completely shift my point of observation and learn the laws of the motion of the steam, the bell, and the wind. History must do the same, — and attempts in this direction have already been made.

For the study of the laws of history, we must completely change the subject of observation, leave alone kings, ministers, and generals, and study the homogeneous, infinitely small elements, by which masses are guided. Nobody can say how much it is in the power of man on this path to attain the comprehension of the laws of history ; but it is evident that upon this path only lies the possibility of grasping the historical laws, and that on this path human reason has not expended even one-millionth part of those efforts which have been lavished by the historians on the description of the acts of various kings, generals, and ministers, and on the exposition of their reflections in reference to these acts.

II.

The hosts of twelve tongues of Europe have invaded Russia. The Russian army and population retreat, avoiding conflicts before Smolénsk, and from Smolénsk to Borodin<5. The French army with a continually increasing force of impulsion bears toward Moscow, the aim of its motion. The force of its impulsion, upon approaching the goal, keeps increasing, like the accelerated motion of a falling body, in measure as it approaches the ground. Behind are thousands of versts of a hungry, hostile country ; in front, tens of versts separating it from its goal. This is felt by every soldier of Napoleon’s army, and the invasion proceeds by itself, by the mere force of impulsion.

In the Russian army, the spirit of infuriation against the enemy flames more and more, in measure as it recedes : as the army retreats, the fury grows more concentrated and more intense. At Borodino the conflict takes place. Neither the one army nor the other disintegrates, but the Russian army, immediately after the conflict, retreats with the same fatality with which a ball rebounds when it strikes another, which bears upon it with greater impulse ; and with the same fatality (though losing all its power in the shock) the impelled ball of the invasion still rolls on for a short distance.

The Russians retreat 120 versts beyond Moscow, while the French reach the city and stop there. For five weeks after this there is not a single battle. The Frenchmen do not move. Like a mortally wounded beast, which, exhausted from loss of blood, licks its wound, they remain in Moscow for five weeks, without undertaking anything, and suddenly without any apparent reason run back again : they throw themselves on the Kaluga road and (after a victory, for the battlefield was again left to them at Mälo-Yaroslävets), without giving any serious battle, run faster still, back to Smolénsk, beyond Smolénsk, beyond Vilna, beyond the Berézina, and farther still.

On the evening of August 26th, Kutuzov and the whole Russian army were convinced that the battle of Borodiné was won. Kutuzov so wrote the emperor. Kutuzov gave orders to get ready for a new battle, in order to finish up the enemy, not because he wanted to deceive any one, but because he knew that the enemy was vanquished, just as every person who had taken part in the battle knew it.

But, on that same evening and on the following day, there began to come in, one after another, bits of news about unheard-of losses, about the loss of half the army, and a new battle became a physical impossibility.

It was out of the question to give battle so long as all information was not yet in, the wounded not removed, the projectiles not supplied, the dead not counted, new commanders not appointed in place of those killed, and the men not yet fed and rested. And yet, immediately after the battle, on the following morning, the French army (by force of that impulsion which was now increased in an inverse ratio to the square of the distance) of its own accord advanced against the Russian army. Kutuzov wanted to attack on the following day, and so did the whole army. But, in order to attack, it is not enough to wish to do so, — a possibility of doing was needed, and this possibility did not exist. They could not help retreating one day’s distance ; later it was just as impossible to keep from retreating for a second and third day’s stop, and, at length, on September 1st, when the army approached Moscow, the force of circumstances demanded, in spite of the strong sentiment in the ranks of the army, that the troops should recede beyond Moscow. And the troops retreated one more day’s march, and surrendered Moscow to the enemy.

For people who are in the habit of thinking that the plans of wars and battles are made by generals in the same way that each of us, sitting in his cabinet over a map, makes his combinations about what his disposition would have been in such and such a battle, there arise the questions why Kutuzov in retreating had not done so or so, why he had not taken up a position before Fili, why he did not at once turn on the Kaluga road, abandoning Moscow, and so forth. People who are in the habit of judging in this manner forget, or do not know, those inevitable conditions under which the activity of any commander-inchief always takes place. The activity of the general has not the slightest resemblance to the one which we imagine, sitting comfortably in our cabinet, looking up a campaign on the map, with a given number of men on either side and in a given locality, and beginning our considerations from a given moment. The commanderin-chief never is in those conditions of the beginning of any event, under which we contemplate it. The commanderin-chief is always in the middle of a moving series of events, and in such a way that never, at any minute, is he able to reflect on the whole significance of what is taking place. The event imperceptibly, moment after moment, carves itself into significance, and at every moment of this consecutive, uninterrupted carving of the event the commanderin-chief is at the centre of a most complicated game of intrigues, cares, subordination, arbitrary power, projects, counsels, threats, and deceits, and is constantly obliged to answer a multitude of questions, which are propounded to him, and which always contradict each other.

The learned military writers tell us in a most serious manner that Kutuzov ought to have moved his troops on the Kaluga road long before Fili, and that some one had even proposed such a plan. But, before a commanderin-chief, especially at a difficult moment, there are ever, not one, but dozens of projects at the same time. And each of these projects, based on strategy and tactics, contradicts all the others. It would seem, then, that the business of the commanderin-chief consisted in selecting one of these projects. However, he can’t do this, either. Events and time do not wait.

Let us say that on August 28th he is advised to cross over to the Kaluga road. Just then there comes galloping up an adjutant from Miloradovich, asking whether they should engage the French at once, or whether they should retreat. He must give an order at once, that very minute; but the order to retreat blocks our way to the Kaluga road. Immediately after the adjutant, the chief of the commissariat wants to know whither to take the provisions, and the chief of the hospital whither to take the wounded ; and a courier brings a letter from St. Petersburg, from the emperor, which leaves no possibility of abandoning Moscow, and the rival of the commanderin-chief, the one who is undermining him (there are always several such on hand), proposes a new project, which is diametrically opposed to the plan of passing over to the Kaluga road ; and the strength of the commanderin-chief himself demands sleep and rest ; and an esteemed general, who has been overlooked in the distribution of rewards, comes to enter a complaint ; and the inhabitants implore his protection ; and an officer sent out to survey the locality comes back and reports precisely the opposite of what the previously despatched officer has reported ; and a spy, a captive, and a general, who has made a reconnaissance,— all describe differently the position of the hostile army.

People, who are in the habit of not understanding, or

of forgetting these necessary conditions of the activity of every commanderin-chief, represent to us, for example, the position of the troops at Fili, and assume that on September 1st the commanderin-chief was quite at liberty to decide the question about abandoning or defending Moscow, whereas, with the position of the Russian army within five miles of Moscow, this question could not have existed. When was this question decided ? At the Drissa, at Smolensk, and, most palpably, on the 24th at Shevardind, and on the 26th at Borodind, and on every day, and hour, and minute of the retreat from Borodino to Fili.

III.

When Ermölov, who had been sent by Kutuzov to examine positions, told the field-marshal that it was impossible to fight at the walls of Moscow, Kutuzov looked at him in silence.

” Let me have your hand,” he said, and, turning it so as to feel his pulse, he said, ” You are not well, my dear. Think what you are saying.”

Kutuzov was still unable to understand that it was possible to retreat beyond Moscow, without giving battle.

At the Pokldnnaya Hill, within six versts of the Doro-gonnlov barrier, Kutuzov got out of his carriage and sat down on a bench at the edge of the road. An immense throng of generals was gathered about him. Count Rostopchm, who had arrived from Moscow, joined them. All this brilliant assembly, breaking up into several coteries, discussed the advantages and disadvantages of the position, the condition of the troops, the proposed plans, the state of Moscow, in general military affairs. All felt that, although they had not been summoned for the purpose, and although it had not been called so, this was a military council. The conversations were all held in the sphere of general questions. If one or another imparted personal news, he did so in a whisper and immediately went over to the general questions : no jests, no laughter, not even smiles could be seen among all these men. All evidently tried to keep themselves up to the level of the situation. All the groups, conversing among themselves, endeavoured to be in the neighbourhood of the commanderin-chief

(whose bench formed the centre of the groups), and they spoke in such a way that he could hear them.

Kutuzov listened and occasionally asked them to repeat what they had said, but did not himself take part in the conversation, and expressed no opinion. Generally, after listening to the talk of one of the groups, he turned away from it with an expression of disappointment, as though they were telling something different from what he wanted to know. Some spoke of the chosen position, criticizing not so much the position itself as the mental capacity of those who had selected it. Others proved that the blunder had been made before and that they ought to have accepted battle two days before. The third group talked of the battle of Salamanca, about winch a Frenchman by the name of Crossart, wearing a Spanish uniform, who had just arrived, had informed them. (This Frenchman was analyzing with one of the German princes serving in the Russian army the siege of Saragossa, foreseeing a possibility of defending Moscow in a similar manner.) In the fourth group, Count Rostopchin said that he was prepared with his Moscow retinue to perish under the walls of the capital, but that, nevertheless, he was sorry that he had been left in such ignorance, and that if he had known it before, it would have been different. Others, exhibiting the depth of their strategical combinations, spoke of the direction which the troops would have to take. Others again spoke more nonsense.

Kutuzov’s face became more and more careworn and sad. From all of these conversations Kutuzov saw this much: the defence of Moscow was a physical impossibility in the full sense of these words, that is, it was so impossible that, if some senseless commander gave the command for a battle, there would ensue a confusion, but no battle would be given, because the higher chiefs not only regarded the position as impossible, but in their conversations restricted themselves to the discussion of what would happen after the unquestionable abandonment of this position. How could the commanders lead their troops to a battlefield which they regarded as impossible ? The lower ranks, even the soldiers (who, too, reflect), also considered the position untenable, and so could not advance to fight with the certainty of defeat. If Bénigsen still insisted on the defence of this position, and others discussed it, the question no longer had any meaning in itself, but was used only as a pretext for dissensions and intrigues. Kutuzov saw that.

Having chosen a position, Bénigsen, with a display of his Russian patriotism (which Kutuzov could not hear without frowning), insisted on the defence of Moscow. Bénigsen’s purpose was as clear as daylight to Kutuzov. It was, in case of the failure of the defence, to throw the blame on Kutuzov, who had led the troops as far as the Sparrow Hills without giving battle, and in case of success, to ascribe it to himself ; but in case of refusal, to clear himself of the accusation of the criminality of abandoning Moscow. But this question of the intrigue did not now occupy the old man. He was interested in only one terrible question. And to this he did not hear any one giving him an answer. The question for him now was : ” Is it possible it is I who have allowed Napoleon to get as far as Moscow, and when did I do it ? When was this decided ? Was it yesterday, when I sent Platov the order to retreat, or night before last, when I fell asleep and commanded Bénigsen to give the orders ? Or even before that ? When, when was this terrible business decided ? Moscow has to be abandoned. The troops must retreat, and this order has to be given.” It seemed to him that giving this terrible order was the same as abandoning the command of the army. He not only loved power and was used to it (the honour shown to Prince Prozordvski, under whom he had served in Turkey, irritated him), but he was also convinced that he was

destined to save Russia, and that, therefore, he had been chosen commanderin-chief in accordance with the wish of the nation, though against the will of the emperor. He was convinced that he was the only one who could hold himself at the head of the army under these hard conditions, that he was the only one in the whole world who could without terror have invincible Napoleon for his adversary ; and he was horrified at the thought of the command which he would have to give. Something had to be decided upon ; it was necessary to cut short these talks all about him, for they were beginning to assume too loose a character.

He called up the senior generals.

“ Ma tête, fut-elle bonne ou mauvaise, n’a qu’à s’aider d’elle même’’ he said, rising from the bench.

He drove to Fili, where his carriages stood.

IV.

In the spacious, best hut of peasant Andréy Savos-tydnov a council met at two o’clock. The men, the women, and the children of the large peasant family crowded in the ” black ” hut, across the vestibule. Only Andrey’s grandchild, Maldsha, a girl of six years, to whom his Most Serene Highness had given a piece of sugar, while fondling her, and drinking tea, remained in the large room on the oven. Malasha timidly and joyfully looked down from the oven on the faces, uniforms, and decorations of the generals, as they entered, one after another, and seated themselves in the ” fair ” corner, on broad benches, beneath the images. ” Grandfather,” himself, as Maldsha said to herself about Kutuzov, was sitting a distance apart from them, in the dark corner beyond the oven. He was settled deeply in a folding-chair and kept grunting and adjusting the collar of his coat, which choked him, although it was unbuttoned. Those who entered one after another walked over to the field-marshal. He pressed the hands of some, and nodded his head to others. Adjutant Kaysdrov was on the point of drawing aside the curtain opposite Kutuzov, but Kutuzov gave him an angry wave of his hand, and Kaysdrov understood that his Most Serene Highness did not want his face to be seen.

Around the peasant’s pine table, on which lay maps, plans, pencils, paper, there were gathered such a mass of people that the servants brought another bench, which they placed near the table. On this bench sat down

Ermélov, Kaysärov, and Toll. Under the very images, occupying the first seat, sat Barclay de Tolly, with the cross of St. George about his neck, with a pale, sickly face, and with a high brow which merged into the baldness of his head. He had been suffering from an ague for two days, and even now felt a chill and a breaking in his bones. Beside him sat Uvarov, who, speaking in a subdued voice (in which all spoke), was communicating something to Barclay, making rapid gestures all the time. Small, plump Ddkhturov, raising his brows and crossing his hands over his stomach, was listening to what he was saying. On the other side sat, leaning his broad, bold-featured head with its sparkling eyes on his hand, Count Osterman-Tolstéy, who seemed to be absorbed in his thoughts. Raévski, with an expression of impatience and with a habitual gesture curling his hair over his brow, looked all the time at Kutuzov, or at the entrance door. Konovmtsyn’s firm, handsome, and kindly countenance beamed with a tender and sly smile. He met Malasha’s glance and made signs to her with his eyes, which made the girl smile.

All were waiting for Bénigsen, who was finishing his savoury dinner under the pretext of a new examination of the position. They waited for him from four to six o’clock, and all this time did not proceed to the deliberation, but in soft voices carried on private conversations.

Only when Bénigsen entered the room, Kutuzov moved out of his corner and up to the table, but in such a way that his face was not lighted up by the candles that had just been brought in.

Bénigsen opened the council with the question whether the holy and ancient capital of Russia was to be abandoned or defended. There ensued a protracted general silence. All the faces looked grim, and in the silence could be heard Kutuzov’s angry grunt and cough. All the eyes were directed upon him. Malasha, too, was looking at the “grandfather.” She was nearest to him and saw his face frown, as though he were getting ready to weep. But this lasted only a moment.

11 The holy and ancient capital of Russia /” he suddenly said, in an angry voice repeating Bénigsen’s words, thus indicating their false note. “ Permit me to tell you, your Serenity, that this question has no meaning for a Russian.” (He lurched forward with his heavy body.) ” Such a question cannot be put, and such a question has no meaning. The question for which I have asked these gentlemen to assemble is of a military character. It is this : ‘ The salvation of Russia is in its army. Is it more advantageous to risk the loss of the army and of Moscow by accepting battle, or to give up Moscow without a battle ? ’ It is on this question that I wish to know your opinion.” He once more settled himself against the back of the chair.

The debates began. Bénigsen did not yet regard his game as lost. Admitting the opinion of Barclay and of others about the impossibility of accepting a defensive battle at Fili, he, permeated by Russian patriotism and love of Moscow, proposed to transfer the troops in the night from the right to the left flank and to strike on the following morning against the right wing of the French. Opinions were divided : there were debates for and against this opinion. Ermélov, Dékhturov, and Raévski agreed with Bénigsen’s opinion. Whether they were guided by the feeling of the necessity for sacrifices before abandoning the capital, or by personal considerations, these generals did not seem to understand that the council of war could not change the inevitable course of events, and that Moscow was practically already abandoned. The other generals understood this, and so, leaving alone the question about Moscow, spoke of the direction which the army was to take in its retreat. Malasha, who, without taking her eyes off, was watching the proceedings, understood the meaning of this council in quite a different manner. It seemed to her that it was only a personal conflict between the ” grandfather ” and ” the long-skirted fellow,” as she called Bénigsen. She saw that they were angry whenever they spoke to each other, and in her heart she took ” grandfather’s ” side. In the middle of the conversation she noticed a swift, cunning glance, which the ” grandfather ” cast upon Bénigsen, and then she observed, to her joy, that ” grandfather ” said something to the ” long-skirted fellow,” which settled him : Bénigsen suddenly blushed and angrily paced the room. The words which had such an effect on Bénigsen were Kutuzov’s calmly and quietly expressed opinion about the advantage and disadvantage of Bénigsen’s proposition in regard to transferring the troops in the night from the right to the left flank for the purpose of attacking the French right wing.

” Gentlemen,” said Kutuzov, ” I cannot assent to the count’s plan. The transposition of troops in the proximity of the enemy is always perilous, and military history confirms this consideration. Thus, for example — ” Kutuzov seemed to meditate, trying to find an example, and, casting a clear, naïve glance at Bénigsen. ” Take the battle of Friedland, which, I am sure, the count remembers well: it was not quite successful just because our troops were transferred in too close proximity to the enemy — “

There followed a moment’s silence, which seemed dreadfully protracted to every one. The debates were resumed ; but there ensued many interruptions, and it was felt that there was nothing else to talk about.

During one of these interruptions Kutuzov heaved a deep sigh, as though getting ready to speak. All looked around at him.

” Eh bien, messieurs ! Je vois que c’est moi qui payerai les pots cassés,” he said. And rising slowly, he went up to the table. ” Gentlemen, I have heard your opinions. Some of you will not agree with me ; but I,” he stopped, ” by dint of the power entrusted to me by my emperor and by my country, command a retreat.”

After this, the generals began to depart with the same solemn and taciturn caution with which people leave after a funeral.

A few of the generals communicated something to the commanderin-chief in a subdued voice and a different diapason from the one in which they had spoken in the council.

Maläsha, who had for a long time been expected at supper, cautiously slipped down from the oven beds, catching with her bare feet in the projections of the oven, and, getting lost among the legs of the generals, bolted through the door.

Having dismissed the generals, Kutuzov sat for a long time leaning against the table and thinking all the time the one terrible question : ” When, when was it that it was at last decided that Moscow was lost ? When did that take place which decided the question, and who is to blame for it ? ”

” This, this I did not expect,” he said to Adjutant Schneider, who came in to see him late at night. ” I did not expect this ! I did not think of it ! ”

“ You need rest, your Serenity,” said Schneider.

” Indeed, no ! They will eat horse-flesh yet, like the Turks,” without replying, shouted Kutuzov, striking the table with his plump fist. “ They will if only — ”

V.

In contrast to Kutuzov, and in a contemporary event, which was of even greater importance than the retreat of the army without a fight, namely, in the abandonment of Moscow and its conflagration, Rostopchin, who is represented as the instigator of this event, acted quite differently.

This event — the desertion of Moscow and its conflagration — was as inevitable as the retreat of the army without a fight from Moscow, after the battle of Borodind.

Every Russian might have predicted this, not on the ground of ratiocinations, but on the ground of that feeling which is within us and has been in our fathers.

Beginning with Smoldnsk, in all the cities and villages of the Russian land, took place, without the aid of Count Rostopchin and his broadsides, that which happened in Moscow. The people, careless, waited for the enemy, and did not riot, nor become agitated ; they did not tear anybody to pieces, but calmly awaited their fate, feeling that at the most difficult moment they would find the proper strength for doing what was necessary. And the moment the enemy approached, the wealthier elements of the population went away, leaving their property behind them ; the poorer ones remained, and they burnt and destroyed what was left.

The consciousness that it would be so, and always must be so, had always existed in the mind of a Russian. And this consciousness, and, moreover, the presentiment that Moscow would be taken, was present in the Moscow society of the year 1812. Those who began to leave Moscow in July and the beginning of August, showed that they expected it. Those who departed with what they could take along, abandoning their houses and half their estates, acted so by force of that latent patriotism, winch finds its expression not in phrases, not in the murder of their children in order to save the country, nor in other unnatural acts, but which expresses itself imperceptibly, simply, organically, and therefore always produces the most powerful results.

” It is disgraceful to run away from danger ; only cowards are running away from Moscow,” they were told. Rostopchin impressed on them by his broadsides that it was a disgrace to flee from Moscow. They felt ashamed to receive the appellation of cowards ; they felt ashamed to leave ; but they left all the same, knowing that it had to be done. Why did they depart ? It cannot be assumed that Rostopchin frightened them with the terrors produced by Napoleon in the conquered provinces. The first to leave were the rich and cultured people, who knew full well that Vienna and Berlin had remained intact, and that there, during Napoleon’s occupation, the inhabitants had passed the time pleasantly with the charming Frenchmen, whom the Russians, especially the ladies, liked so much.

They went away because there could be no question for the Russians whether the domination of the French would be good or bad for Moscow. It was impossible to remain under the domination of the French : that was worse than anything. They had been leaving previous to the battle of Borodind, and faster still after it, paying no attention to the appeals for the defence, in spite of the proclamation of the commanderin-chief of Moscow that he intended to take up the miracle-working image of the Ivor Church and to go out fighting the enemy, in spite of the balloons which were to destroy the French, and in spite of all the nonsense which Rostopchin wrote in his broadsides. They knew that the army had to fight, and that if the army was unable to prevail, they, with their ladies and servants, could not go to the Three Hills to fight Napoleon, and that it was necessary to depart, however painful it was to abandon their property to ruin. They went, and they did not think of the grand meaning of tliis immense, rich capital, which was abandoned by the inhabitants and was practically doomed to conflagration (it is not in the spirit of the Russian nation to leave houses empty, without destroying and burning them); they went away, each for himself ; but, at the same time, only because they departed did that grand event take place, which for ever will remain the glory of the Russian people. That lady, who as early as June took her negroes and jesters away from Moscow to the Government of Saratov, with the dim consciousness that she would not be a servant to Napoleon, and with the fear lest she be stopped by command of Count Rostopchin, did simply and truly the work which saved Russia.

But Count Rostopchin, who now put to shame those who departed ; now transported the government offices ; now distributed worthless weapons to the drunken rabble ; now raised images ; now prohibited Avgustin from taking away the relics and icons ; now seized all the private teams which were to be found in Moscow ; now moved Leppich’s balloon in 136 teams; now intimated that he would burn Moscow ; now told how he had burnt his own house and wrote a proclamation to the French, solemnly upbraiding them for having destroyed his Home for Children ; now claimed for himself the glory of having burnt Moscow, now denied it, and now reproached the people for it; now sent all the French out of Moscow, but left in the city Madame Aubert-Chalmé, who formed the centre of all the French population of Moscow, and without cause ordered the venerable director of posts, Klyucharév, seized and sent into exile ; now assembled all the people upon the Three Hills, in order to fight the French ; now, to get rid of these people, surrendered a man to them to be killed, while he himself left by a back gate ; now said that he would not outlive the calamity of Moscow; now wrote in albums French verses about his part in the matter,1 — tins man did not understand the meaning of what was going on, and only wanted to do something himself, to surprise somebody, to do an act of patriotic heroism, and like a boy played with the grand and inevitable event of the abandonment and conflagration of Moscow, and tried with his small hand now to encourage and now to arrest the current of the tremendous popular torrent, which carried him along.

1Je suis né Tartare. Je voulus être Romain. Les Français m’appelèrent barbare. Les Russes—Georges Dandin.

VI.

Upon her return with the court from Vilna to St. Petersburg, Hélène was in an embarrassing condition. In St. Petersburg, Hélène enjoyed the special protection of a dignitary who occupied one of the highest offices in the country. In Vilna she had been intimate with a young foreign prince. Upon arriving at St. Petersburg, the prince and the dignitary were both there, and both claimed their rights, so that a problem in Hélène’s career presented itself to her: to preserve the intimacy with both, without offending either.

What would have appeared difficult and even impossible for any other woman did not give the least concern to Countess Bezukhi, who evidently did not in vain enjoy the reputation of a very clever woman. If she had tried to conceal her acts, to disentangle herself from the awkward position by cunning, she would have spoiled the whole business, and would have admitted her guilt ; but Hélène, on the contrary, like a truly great man, who can do everything he wishes, immediately put herself in the position of righteousness, in which she believed sincerely, and put everybody else in a position of guilt.

When the young stranger permitted himself, for the first time, to reproach her, she raised her beautiful head proudly and, turning half-way around to him, said, in a firm voice :

” Voilà, l’égoïsme et la cruauté des hommes ! Je ne m’attendais pas à autre chose. La femme se sacrifie pour vous ; elle souffre, et voilà la récompense ! Quel droit avez-vous, monseigneur, de me demander compte de mes amitiés, de mes affections ? C’est un homme gui a été plus qic’un père pour moi.”

The personage wanted to say something. Hélène interrupted him :

, “ Eh bien, oui” she said, “peut-être qu’il a pour moi d’autres sentiments que ceux d’un père, mais ce n’est pas une raison pour que je lui ferme ma porte. Je ne suis pas un homme pour être ingrate. Sachez, monseigneur,pour tout ce qui a rapport à mes sentiments intimes, je ne rends compte qu’à Dieu et à ma conscience,” she concluded, touching her beautiful, swelling bosom with her hand, and looking up to heaven.

” Mais écoutcz-moi au nom de Dieu.”

” Epousez-moi, et je serai votre esclave.”

” Mais c’est impossible.”

” Vous ne daignez pas descendre jusqic’ à moi, vous — ” Hélène said, weeping.

The high personage began to console her ; but Hélène said through her tears (as though forgetting herself) that nothing could prevent her marrying him, that there were such examples (there were not many examples then, but she named Napoleon and other high personages), that she had never been the wife of her husband, and that she had been sacrificed to him.

” But the laws, religion — ” said the prince, beginning to submit.

” The laws, religion — What were they invented for, if they could not accomplish this ? ” said Hélène.

The prince was surprised that such a simple thought had never occurred to him, and turned for advice to the holy brothers of the Society of Jesus, with whom he stood in close relations.

A few days later, at one of those charming fêtes which Hélène gave at her summer residence on Stone Island, she was introduced to a no longer youthful man, with snow-white hair and black, sparkling eyes, M. de Jobert, ” un Jésuite à robe courte,” who, in the light of the illumination and to the sound of music, for a long time talked with her in the garden of the love of God, of Christ, of the heart of the Holy Virgin, and of the consolation afforded in this life and in the life to come by the only, true Catholic religion. Hélène was touched, and several times tears stood in her eyes and in those of M. de Jobert, and their voices trembled. A dance, to which a gentleman came to take Hélène away, broke up the conversation with her future directeur de conscience but on the following day M. de Jobert came by himself to see her in the evening, and after that called on her frequently.

One day he took the countess to a Catholic church, where she knelt before an altar, to which she had been led. A middle-aged, charming Frenchman put his hands upon her head, and, as she later told herself, she felt something like the wafting of a fresh breeze which descended upon her soul. She was told that this was “ la grâce.”

Then they brought up an abbot “à robe longue,” and he confessed her and absolved her sins. On the next day a box was brought to her, containing the Host, and tins was left at her house for her use. After a few days, Hélène, to her joy, found out that she had now entered the true Catholic Church, and that the Pope would learn about her in a few days, and would send her a certain document.

Everything which was now going on around her, all this attention which was directed toward her by a few clever men, and which found its expression in such agreeable, refined forms, and the dove-like purity in which she now was (all that time she wore white dresses with white ribbons), — all this afforded her pleasure ; but in her pleasure she did not for a moment forget her aim. And, as it always happens that in matters of cunning a stupid man gets the better of those who’are more intelligent, she, seeing that the purpose of all these words and this trouble was chiefly to turn her to Catholicism and take money from her for the benefit of Jesuitic institutions (at which they hinted to her), before giving the money, insisted that all those operations be performed on her which would free her from her husband. To her comprehension the meaning of all religion was to preserve certain proprieties in the gratification of human wants. And for this purpose she, in one of her conversations with the confessor, demanded a definite answer to the question as to how far her marriage bound her.

They were sitting in the drawingroom at a window. It was twilight. Flowers sent their odours through the window. Hélène wore a white dress, which was transparent across the breast and shoulders. The abbot, a well-fed man with a chubby, closely shaven chin, pleasing, firm mouth, and white hands, which were humbly folded on his knees, sat close to Hélène, and with a delicate smile on his lips now and then looked at her face with a glance of humble rapture at her beauty, and expounded to her his view on the question which so interested her. Hélène, smiling restlessly, looked at his flowing hair and smoothly shaven, dark-tinted, full cheeks, and waited for a new turn in the conversation at any moment. But the abbot, though apparently enjoying the beauty of his interlocutrice, was carried away by the mastery of his work.

The course of the reasoning of the director of conscience was as follows :

” Ignorant of the significance of that which you undertook, you made a vow of nuptial fidelity to a man, who, on his side, by entering into matrimony and believing in the religious significance of marriage, has committed a profanation. This marriage has not had the twofold meaning which it ought to have. Yet, in spite of it, your vow binds you. You have swerved from it. What have you committed by this ? Péché véniel, or péché mortel ? — Péché véniel, because you have committed the deed without any evil thought. If now you should again enter wedlock for the purpose of having children, your sin may be forgiven. But the question again falls under two heads : first — “

” But I think,” Hélène, wearied, suddenly said, with her charming smile, “that, after entering into the true faith, I cannot be bound by what the false religion has imposed upon me.”

The directeur de conscience was amazed at the simple manner in which this Columbus’s egg was stood up before him. He was delighted at the unexpected rapidity of the progress which his pupil was making, but he could not abandon his ingenious structure of arguments, which he had built up with so much labour.

« Entendons-nous, comtesse,” he said, with a smile, and began to refute the reflections of his spiritual daughter.

VII.

Hélène understood that the matter was very simple and easy from the spiritual point of view, and that her guides made difficulties only because they were afraid of how the temporal power would look upon it.

Consequently Hélène decided that this affair ought to be prepared for in society. She provoked the jealousy of the old dignitary and told him the same that she had told the first suitor, that is, she put the question in such a way that the only means for him to assert his right to her lay in marrying her. The old dignitary was the first moment as much staggered by this proposition of marrying, while her husband was alive, as the youthful personage had been ; but he was affected by Hélène’s imperturbable conviction that this was as simple and natural as the marriage of a young girl. If there had been noticed the slightest signs of wavering, shame, or concealment in Hélène herself, the affair would certainly have been lost ; but there were not only no signs of concealment and shame, but, on the contrary, she told her intimate friends (this means all of St. Petersburg) with much simplicity and good-natured naïveté that the prince and the dignitary had both proposed to her, and that she loved them both and was afraid of offending them.

The rumour was soon spread in St. Petersburg, not that Hélène wanted to be divorced from her husband (if this rumour had been spread, many would have risen against such an illegal intention), but simply that unhappy, interesting Hélène was in doubt which of the two to marry. The question no longer was to what extent this was possible, but only which match was more advantageous, and how the court would look upon it. There were, indeed, a few narrow-minded people who could not rise to the height of this question, and who saw in this scheme a profanation of the sacrament of marriage ; but there were only a few of this class, and they were silent, while the majority were interested in questions about the luck that had befallen Hélène, and about which choice would be the better. They did not speak about whether it was right or wrong to marry while the husband was living, because this question had apparently been “settled by people who are more clever than you or I ” (as they said), and to doubt the correctness of the solution was tantamount to risking the betrayal of one’s ignorance and lack of savoir faire.

Marya Dmitrievna Akhrosiniov, who came to St. Petersburg that summer to see one of her sons, was the only one who took the liberty of expressing her own opinion, which went counter to that of society. Meeting Hélène at a ball, Mdrya Dmitrievna stopped her in the middle of the parlour and, amid a general silence, said to her, in her coarse voice : ” They have begun here to marry while the husband is still alive. You, no doubt, imagine that you have invented something new. Others are ahead of you, my dear. It is an old story. They do like this in all …” And with these words Marya Dmitrievna, rolling up her broad sleeves with her habitual, threatening gesture, and looking sternly about her, walked across the room.

Although people were afraid of Märya Dmitrievna, they looked upon her in St. Petersburg as a jester, and so the coarse word was the only one in her speech that was taken note of, and was repeated in a whisper, assuming that all the salt of the witticism lay in this word alone.

Prince Vasili, who of late had begun very frequently to forget what he was saying, and who repeated exactly the same thing a hundred times, said every time he saw his daughter :

” Hélène, j’ai un mot à vous dire,” he would say to her, taking her aside and pulling her hand down. “J’ai eu vent de certains projets relatifs à — vous savez. Eh bien, ma chère enfant, vous savez que mon cœur de père se réjouit de vous savoir — Vous avez tant souffert — Mais, chère enfant — ne consultez que votre cœur. C’est tout ce que je vous dis.” And, concealing his agitation, which was always the same, he would press his cheek to the cheek of his daughter and would go away. Bilibin, who had not yet lost liis reputation of a very clever man, and who was an unselfish friend of Hélène’s, one of those friends whom brilliant women always have, and who never can pass over to the rôle of lovers, — Bilibin once told his friend Hélène en petit comité his view on the whole matter.

” Ecoutez, Bilibine ! ” (Hélène always called such friends as Bilibin by their family name), — and she touched his dress coat with her white ring-bedecked hand. ” Ditcs-moi comme vous diriez à une sœur, que dois-je faire ? Lequel des deux ? “

Bilibin knit his brow and fell to musing, with a smile on his lips.

” Vous ne me prenez pas unawares, vous savez,” he said. ” Comme veritable ami fai pensé et repensé à votre affaire. Voyez-vous, si vous épousez le prince” he bent down a finger, ” vous perdez pour toujours la chance d’épouser l’autre, et puis vous mécontentez la Cour. (Comme vous savez, il y a une espèce de parenté.) Mais si vous épousez le vieux comte, vous faites le bonheur de ses derniers jours, et puis comme veuve du grand — le prince ne fait plus de mésalliance en vous épousant,” and Bilibin smoothed out the wrinkles on his brow.

” Voilà un véritable ami ! ” said beaming Hélène, once more touching Bilibin’s sleeve with her hand. ” Mais e’est que j aime l’un et l’autre, je ne voudrais pas leur faire de chagrin. Je donnerais ma vie pour leïtr bonheur à tous deux’’ she said.

Bilibin shrugged his shoulders, as though to say that even he was unable to assist her in such sorrow.

” Une maitressc-femme ! Voilà ce qui s’appelle poser carrément la question. Elle voudrait épouser tous les trois à la fois,” thought Bilibin. ” But tell me, how will your husband look upon this affair ? ” he said, on account of his well-established reputation not fearing to lower himself by such a naïve question. ” Will he consent ? “

” Ah ! Il m’aime tant ! ” said Hélène, who for some reason thought that Pierre, too, loved her. ” Il fera tout pour moi.”

Bilibin wrinkled up his skin, to indicate the coming of a mot.

” Meme le divorce,” he said.

Hélène smiled.

Among the persons who allowed themselves to doubt the legality of the intended marriage, was Hélène’s mother, Princess Kurägin. She was constantly tormented by jealousy of her daughter, and now that the subject of jealousy was so near to her heart, she could not make peace with this thought. She consulted a Russian priest as to the possibility of a divorce and of marrying during the life of the husband, and the priest informed her that this was impossible, and to her joy referred her to the Gospel text, where the possibility of remarrying during the lifetime of the husband was directly denied.

Armed with these arguments, winch to her seemed unanswerable, the princess went to see her daughter early in the morning, hoping to find her alone at that time of the day.

Having listened to the objections of her mother, Hélène smiled meekly and sarcastically.

” Ah, maman, ne dites pas de bêtises ! Vous ne comprenez rien. Dans ma position f ai des devoirs,” said Hélène, transferring the conversation from the Russian to the French language, the Russian somehow appearing inadequate to represent her case.

“ But, my dear — “

” Ah, maman, comment est-ce que vous ne comprenez pas que le Saint Père, qui a le droit de donner des dispenses — “

Just then the lady companion, who was living in Hélène’s house, came to report that his Highness was in the parlour and wished to see her.

” Non, dites-lui que je ne veux pas le voir, que je suis furieuse contre lui, parce qu’il m’a manqué parole’.’

” Comtesse, à tout péché miséricorde,” said, entering, a young, light-complexioned man with a long face and nose.

The old princess rose respectfully and curtseyed. The young man paid no attention to her. The princess nodded to her daughter and glided toward the door.

“Yes, she is right,” thought the old princess, all of whose convictions melted at the appearance of his Highness. ” She is right ; but how is it we in our irretrievable youth did not know all this ? And yet it was all so simple,” she thought, seating herself in the carriage.

In the beginning of August Hélène’s affair was clearly defined, and she wrote to her husband (who, she thought, loved her very much) a letter, in which she informed him of her intention of marrying N–-N–-, and of the

fact that she had adopted the only true religion, and asked him to attend to all those necessary formalities of divorce, of which the bearer of the letter would inform him.

“ Sur ce je prie Dieu, mon ami, de vous avoir sous Sa sainte et puissante garde. Votre amie, Hélène.”

This letter was brought to Pierre’s house just as he was on the field of Borodind.

VIII.

Running down, for the second time, at the end of the battle of Borodind, from the Raévski Battery, Pierre with crowds of soldiers rushed down the ravine toward Knyaz-kovo, passed by the ambulance, and, seeing blood and hearing shouts and groans, hurried on, mingling with the crowds of soldiers.

The one thing Pierre now wished above all others, with all the powers of his soul, was to get away as quickly as possible from those terrible impressions, which he had received that day, to return to the customary conditions of life, and calmly to fall asleep on the bed in his room. Only in the habitual conditions of life, he felt, would he be able to understand himself and all that he had seen and experienced. But these habitual conditions did not exist.

Though the balls and bullets did not whistle here, on the road over which he was riding, on all sides, it was the same as it had been on the field of battle. There were the same suffering, exhausted, and occasionally strangely indifferent faces, the same blood, the same soldier overcoats, the same sounds of the fusilade, though distant, yet still inducing terror; in addition it was sultry and dusty.

After walking about three versts along the Mozhaysk highway, Pierre sat down at the side of the road.

Twilight descended upon earth, and the din of the ordnance died away. Leaning on his arm, Pierre lay down and lay so for a long time, looking at the shadows moving past him in the darkness. It seemed to him all the time that a ball was flying toward him with a terrible whistle ; he trembled and raised himself a little. He did not remember how long he had been there. In the middle of the night three soldiers dragged up some twigs near him and, making a fire, settled down beside him. Looking askance at Pierre, the soldiers placed a kettle over the fire, broke some hardtack into it, and put in some lard. The agreeable odour of the fat victuals blended with the odour of the smoke. Pierre raised himself a little and sighed. The soldiers (there were three of them) ate, without paying any attention to Pierre, and carried on a conversation among themselves.

“ What kind of a man are you ? ” one of the soldiers suddenly turned to Pierre, evidently understanding the question in the same manner as Pierre understood it. ” If you want to eat, we will give you some, only tell us whether you are an honest man.”

“I ? I ?” said Pierre, feeling the necessity of minimizing as much as possible his social position, in order to get near to the soldiers and be understood by them. ” I am in reality an officer of the militia, only my company is not here ; when I came to the battlefield I lost it.”

” I say ! ” said one of the soldiers.

Another soldier shook his head.

” Well, will you eat some porridge ? ” asked the first soldier, handing Pierre a wooden spoon, which he had licked clean.

Pierre sat down near the fire and began to eat the porridge, — the food which was in the kettle, and which seemed to him the most savoury dish he had ever eaten. While he, bending over the kettle and eagerly taking large spoonfuls, munched his food, his face was visible in the light of the fire, and the soldiers looked at him silently.

” Where do you have to go ? Tell me ! ” one of the soldiers asked him.

” I want to go to Mozhaysk.”

” So you arc a gentleman ? “

« Yes.”

” What is your name ? “

” Peter Kirillovich.”

” dome, I’eter Kirillovich, we will take you there.”

The soldiers went with Pierre to Mozhdysk through the darkness.

The cocks were already crowing when they reached Mozhdysk and began to ascend the steep hill. Pierre walked with the soldiers, entirely forgetful of the fact that his tavern was at the foot of the hill, and that he had passed it long ago. He would not have thought of it (lie was in such a state of forgetfulness), if his groom had not stumbled on him half-way up the hill. The groom had gone all over town, trying to find him, and was on his way back to the tavern ; he recognized Pierre by his hat which gleamed white through the darkness.

” Your Serenity,” he said, ” we were despairing of you. Why are you on foot ? Whither are you going, if you please ? “

” Oh, yes,” said Pierre.

The soldiers stopped.

” Well, have you found your people ? ” asked one of them.

” Good-bye, Peter Kirillovich, I think, it is ? Good-bye, Peter Kirillovich • ” said the other voices.

” Good-bye,” replied Pierre, starting with his groom for the tavern.

” I must give them something ! ” thought Pierre, putting his hand into his pocket. ” No, you must not,” said another voice.

In the rooms of the tavern there was no room : every available place was occupied. Pierre went into the yard and, covering up his head, lay down in his carriage.

IX.

Pierre had barely put his head down on his pillow, when he felt himself falling asleep; but suddenly he heard, almost with the distinctness of reality, the ” Boom, boom, boom,” of the reports ; he heard groans, cries, the plashing of projectiles ; he smelled blood and powder, — and a feeling of terror, of the fear of death, took possession of him. He opened his eyes in fright, and raised his head above his overcoat. Everything was quiet outside. Only in the gateway an orderly was walking around, speaking with the tavern-keeper and plashing through the mud. Above Pierre’s head, under the dark roof of the shingled penthouse, the doves fluttered at the motion which he made in raising himself. Over the whole yard lay that peaceful, strong odour of the tavern yard, the odour of hay, manure, and tar, which at that moment gave Pierre much pleasure. Between two penthouses could be seen the pure, starry heavens.

“ Thank God it isn’t like that now ! ” thought Pierre, again covering up his head. ” Oh, how frightful terror is, and how disgracefully I have abandoned myself to it! But they — they were firm and calm all the time, to the end — ” he thought. ” They,” in Pierre’s mind were the soldiers who had been in the battery, and those who had fed him, and those who had prayed to the image. ” They,” — those strange people, heretofore unfamiliar to him, they stood out clearly and sharply in his mind above all other men.

“ To be a soldier, simply a soldier ! ” thought Pierre, falling asleep. ” To enter this common life with all one’s being, to become permeated by what makes them such ! But how throw off all this superfluous, devilish matter, all the burden of the external man ? At one time I could have been a soldier. I could have run away from my father, as I wished to do. I might have been made a common soldier after my duel with Ddlokhov.” And in Pierre’s imagination flashed the dinner at the club, at which he challenged Dolokhov, and the benefactor at Torzhdk. And now he thought of the solemn table lodge. The lodge was taking place at the English club. A familiar, near, and dear person was sitting at the end of the table. Yes, it was he ! The benefactor. ” But he is dead ! ” thought Pierre. ” Yes, he is ; but I did not know that he was alive. How sorry I am that he is dead, and how glad that he is again alive ! ” At one side of the table sat Anatdl, Dolokhov, Nesvitskoy, Denisov, and others like them (the category of these men was as clearly defined in his sleep, as the category of those men whom he called ” they and these men, Anatdl, Ddlokhov, were shouting and singing ; but through their cries could be heard the voice of the benefactor, speaking without cessation, and the sound of these words was as significant and unbroken as the din on the battlefield, but it was pleasant and consoling. Pierre did not understand what the benefactor was saying, but he knew (the category of ideas was so clear in his dream) that the benefactor was speaking about goodness, about the possibility of being what ” they ” were. And ” they ” with their simple, kindly, firm faces, surrounded the benefactor on all sides. But although they were good, they did not look at Pierre, did not know him. He tried to rise, but just then his feet grew cold and were bared.

He felt ashamed, and with one hand covered his feet, from which the overcoat had actually slipped down. In adjusting the overcoat, Pierre for a moment opened his eyes and saw the same penthouses, posts, yard, but now it was all bluish and bright, and covered with the tinsel of the dew or frost.

” Day is breaking,” thought Pierre. ” But this is a different matter. I must hear the words of the benefactor and understand their meaning.” He again covered himself with his overcoat, but there was no longer any table lodge, nor the benefactor. There were only thoughts, clearly expressed in words, — thoughts which some one was uttering, or which Pierre himself was thinking.

Kecalling these thoughts later, Pierre was convinced that, although they had really been provoked by the impressions of that day, somebody within him had been telling them to him. It seemed to him that never before on waking had he been able to think and express his thoughts so clearly.

“The most difficult thing is the subordination of human freedom to the laws of God,” said the voice. “ Simplicity is humility to God ; one cannot get away from Him. And they are simple. They do not speak, but act. An uttered word is silver, an unuttered word is gold. Man cannot possess anything so long as he is afraid of death ; and he who is not afraid of it, owns everything. If there were no suffering, man would not know his limitations, would not know himself. The most difficult thing,” Pierre continued to think or hear in Ins sleep, “ consists in the ability to connect in one’s soul the meaning of everything. To connect everything ? ” Pierre said to himself. ” No, not to connect. It is impossible to connect ideas, but what is necessary is to make all these thoughts hitch together, that is what is needed ! Yes, they must be hitched, they must be hitched ! ” Pierre repeated to himself with inward enthusiasm, feeling that these words expressed precisely what he wished to say, and that all the mighty question was thus solved.

” Yes, they must be hitched ! It is time to hitch them ! “

« It is time to hitch, it is time to hitch, your Serenity!” repeated a voice, — “it is time to hitch up, it is time to hitch up — “

It was the voice of the groom waking Pierre. The sun was beating down on Pierre’s face. He looked at the dirty tavern yard, in the middle of which soldiers were letting some lean horses drink at the well, and from which teams were leaving through the gate. Pierre turned away in disgust and, closing his eyes, hurriedly threw himself down on the seat of his carriage. “ No, I do not want it, I do not want to see or understand it, — I want only to understand that which was revealed to me during my sleep. What shall I do? Hitch, but how shall I hitch everything ? ” And Pierre felt, to his terror, that the meaning of what he had seen and thought in his dream was destroyed.

The groom, the coachman, and the tavern-keeper told Pierre that an officer had arrived with the news that the French were moving toward Mozhaysk, and that our forces were marching away.

Pierre got up and, having ordered his men to hitch up and overtake him, went on foot through the city.

The troops marched away, leaving about ten thousand wounded. These wounded could be seen in the yards and windows of the houses, and crowded in the streets. In the streets, near the carts which were to take the wounded away, could be heard shouts, curses, and blows. Pierre offered his carriage, when it reached him, to a wounded general whom he knew, and with him drove to Moscow. On his way Pierre learned of the death of his brother-in-law and of the death of Prince Andréy.

On the 30th Pierre returned to Moscow. Almost at the barrier he met an adjutant of Count Postopchin.

“ We have been looking for you everywhere,” said the adjutant. ” The count wants to see you by all means. He begs you to come to see him at once on some very important business.”

Pierre did not go home, but took a cab and drove to the commanderin-chief.

Count Postopchin had only that morning arrived from his suburban summer residence at Sokdlniki. The waiting and reception rooms in the count’s house were filled with officials, who had come at his request or to receive orders. Vasilchikov and Plâtov had already spoken with the count, and had explained to him that it was impossible to defend Moscow, and that it would be surrendered. Though this news was concealed from the inhabitants, the officials, the chiefs of various departments, knew that Moscow would be in the hands of the enemy, as well as Count Postopchin knew it ; and all of them, to free themselves of the responsibility, came to the commanderin-chief to ask him what to do with the departments in their charge.

Just as Pierre entered the waiting-room, a courier, who had come from the army, was leaving the count. The courier waved his arm in sign of despair in response to the questions with which they turned to him, and passed through the parlour.

Waiting in the reception-room, Pierre with weary eyes surveyed the different officials in the room, the old and young, the military officers and those of the civil service, the men of importance and those of lesser grade. All seemed to be dissatisfied and restless. Pierre walked over to a group of the officials, among whom there was an acquaintance of his. Exchanging greetings with Pierre, they continued their conversation.

” If we could send it away and then bring it back, there would be no trouble ; in this state of affairs one cannot answer for anything.”

“This is what he writes,” said another, pointing to a printed sheet, which he was holding in his hand.

“ That is another matter. That is necessary for the people,” said the first.

“ What is it ? ” asked Pierre.

” A new broadside.”

Pierre took it into his hand and began to read it :

“His Most Serene Highness has passed Mozhdysk, in order to unite as soon as possible with the troops which are going to him, and has taken up a strong place, where the enemy will not go so soon for him. We have forwarded to him from here forty-eight guns with the projectiles, and his Most Serene Highness says that he will defend Moscow with the last drop of his blood, and that he is ready to fight in the streets, if necessary. Brothers, don’t bother about the closing up of the government offices : it is necessary to clean up, but we will take the law in our hands against the malefactor ! When the time comes, I shall need a lot of brave fellows, both from the city and the country. I will give you a call two days ahead, but now I do not need you, so I am silent. An axe will do ; and a spit is not a bad thing ; but best of all is a three-pronged fork: a Frenchman is not heavier than a sheaf of rye. Tomorrow, after dinner, I will raise the fver image, and will have it taken to the Catherine Hospital, to the wounded. There we will sanctify the water : so they will get well soon. I myself am well now ; I had a pain in my eye, but now I look sharp with both eyes.”

“ Military men have told me,” said Pierre, “ that it is impossible to fight in the city, and that the position — “

“ Exactly, that is what we have been saying,” remarked the first official.

“ What does this mean : ‘ I had a pain in my eye, and now I look sharp with both eyes ‘ ? ” asked Pierre.

“ The count had a stye,” the adjutant said, smiling, “ and he was much disturbed when he was told that the people came to find out what the matter was with him. Well, count?” the adjutant suddenly said, turning to Pierre with a smile, “ we have heard that you have some domestic troubles, that the countess, your wife — “

“ I have not heard anything,” Pierre said, with indifference. “ What have you heard ? ”

“You know, they frequently invent stories. I only say what I have heard.”

” What did you hear ? “

“They say,” the adjutant said, again with the same smile, “ that your wife, the countess, is getting ready to go abroad. No doubt, it is all nonsense — “

“ Maybe,” said Pierre, looking absent-mindedly about him. ” Who is this ? ” he asked, pointing to an undersized old man in a clean, blue, long national overcoat, with a long snow-white beard and eyebrows, and a ruddy face.

“ That one ? It is a merchant, that is, a restaurantkeeper, Vereshchagin. You have, perhaps, heard the story about the proclamation.”

“Oh, so this is Vereshchagin!” said Pierre, gazing at the firm and calm expression of the old man’s countenance, and trying to discover in it the expression of treason.

“ No, not he. This one is the father of him who wrote the proclamation,” said the adjutant. “ The young fellow is sitting in the hole, and, no doubt, will fare badly.”

An old man with a decoration and an official, a German, with a cross on Ins neck, joined the speakers.

“You see,” said the adjutant, “this proclamation appeared about two months ago. The count was informed of it. He ordered a prosecution. Gavrflo Ivanych investigated and found that the proclamation had passed through sixty-three hands. We come to one: ‘From whom did you get it?’ — ‘From such a one.’ He goes to this one. ‘ From whom did you get it ? ‘ and so forth. Finally we got down to Vereshchagin — a half-educated son of a merchant, you know, one of those dear little merchants,” the adjutant said, smiling. “They asked him from whom he had it. The point is, we knew from whom he had it. The only person he could have it from was the director of posts. But evidently they had plotted together. Says he : ‘ From nobody, — I have composed it myself.’ They begged him and threatened him, but he insisted : ‘ I have composed it myself.’ They so reported to the count. The count sent for him. ‘ From whom did you get the proclamation ?’ —‘I have composed it myself.’ Well, you know the count ! ” the adjutant said, with a proud and merry smile. “ He flew up terribly, and, indeed, consider what a piece of impudence, what a lie, what stubbornness ! ”

“ Ah ! The count wanted him to point to Klyucharév, I understand ! ” said Pierre.

“ Not at all,” the adjutant replied, with an expression of fear. “ Klyucharév had other sins to answer for, and has been exiled for them. The point is the count was dreadfully excited. ‘ How could you have composed it ? ‘ says the count. He took from the table this Hamburg gazette. Here it is. ‘ You have not composed it, but have translated it, and have translated it badly because, you stupid, you do not know French well.’ Well, what do you suppose ? ‘ No,’ says he, ‘ I have read no gazettes, — I have composed it myself.’ — ‘If so, you are a traitor, and I will have you tried, and you will be hanged. Tell me from whom you got it!’ — ‘I have seen no gazettes, and have composed it myself.’ And so it remained. The count called up his father, but he did not swerve. He was tried and, I think, condemned to hard labour. Now liis father has come to intercede for him. But he is a worthless lad ! You know, a merchant’s son, a fop, a seducer, — he has attended some lectures somewhere, and so he thinks that the devil is no kin to him. A fine fellow is he ! His father has a restaurant near Stone Bridge, and in this restaurant there was a large image of God the All-holder, and God was represented with a sceptre in one hand, and a globe in the other; so he took this image home for a few days, and what do you suppose he did ? He found a scoundrel of a painter — ”

XI.

In the middle of this conversation, Pierre was called in to the commanderin-chief.

Pierre went into the cabinet of Count Rostopchm. Rostopchm, frowning, was rubbing his brow and eyes, when Pierre entered. A low-statured man was talking to him, but as soon as Pierre entered, he grew silent and left.

“Ah, good evening, great warrior,” said Rostopchm, the moment that man had gone out. “We have heard of your prouesses ! But that is a different matter. Mon cher, entre nous, are you a Mason ? ” said Count Ros topchin, in a stern voice, as though there were something bad in this, but he were ready to forgive him.

Pierre was silent.

” Mon cher, je suis bien informé, but I know that there are Masons and Masons, and I hope that you do not belong to those who, under the pretext of saving the human race, want to ruin Russia.”

“ Yes, I am a Mason,” replied Pierre.

” Precisely, my dear. I suppose you know that Messrs. Sperdnski and Magnitski have been despatched where they belong, and that the same has been done with Mr. Klyucharév, and with others, who, under the pretext of building the temple of Solomon, tried to destroy the temple of their country. You will understand that there must be good cause for it, and that I should not have been able to exile the director of posts if he were not a dangerous man. Now, it is known to me that you have sent him your carriage to help him get out of the city, and also that you have received certain papers from him for safe-keeping. I like you, and wish you no evil, and, as you are half my age, I advise you, as a father, to stop all relations with men of that stamp and yourself to leave the city as soon as possible.”

” But wherein does Klyucharév’s guilt lie, count ? ” asked Pierre.

“ That is my business, and you have no right to ask me,” shouted Rostopchm.

“If he is accused of having spread Napoleon’s proclamation, that has not been proved,” said Pierre, without looking at Rostopchm, “ and Vereshchagin — “

“ Nous y voilà,” interrupting Pierre, Rostopchm suddenly shouted louder than before, knitting his brow. “ Vereshchagin is a traitor, who will receive his proper punishment,” said Rostopchm, with that maliciousness with which people speak at the thought of an insult. ” But I have not called you here to discuss my affairs, but in order to give you a piece of advice, or a command, if you prefer it. I beg you to break off all relations with such gentlemen as Klyucharév, and to leave the city. I will knock the conceit out of the head of any person.” And, apparently concluding that he was shouting to Bezukhi, who had not yet been found guilty of anything, he added, taking Pierre’s hand in a friendly manner : ” Nous sommes à la veille d’un désastre publique, et je n’ai pas le temps de dire des gentillesses à tous ceux qui ont affaire à moi. My head sometimes goes around in a whirl ! Eh bien, mon cher, qu’est-cc que vous faites, vous, personelle-ment ! ”

” Mais rien,” replied Pierre, without raising his eyes, and without changing the expression of his pensive face.

The count frowned.

“ Un conseil d’ami, mon cher. Décampez et au plutôt, c’est tout ce que je vous dis. A bon entendeur salut ! Good-bye, my dear. Oh, yes,” he cried to him through the door, ” is it true that the countess has fallen into the paws des saints pères de la Société de Jésus ? “

Pierre made no reply and left Postopchin, frowning and angry, as he had never been seen before.

When he reached home, it was getting dark. Eight different men came to see him on that evening. The secretary of the committee, the colonel of his battalion, the superintendent, the majordomo, and all kinds of petitioners. All of them had some business with Pierre, which he had to settle. Pierre comprehended nothing, was not interested in these matters, and gave to all questions only such answers as would free him from these men. Finally, when left alone, he broke the seal of his wife’s letter and read it.

” They — the soldiers in the battery, Prince Andréy killed — old man — Simplicity is the humility to God. It is necessary to suffer — the meaning of all — it is necessary to hitch — my wife is getting married — it is necessary to forget and comprehend — ” and walking over to his bed he threw himself upon it without undressing and immediately fell asleep.

When he awoke on the following morning, the majordomo came and reported that an official of the police had been sent especially from Count Rostopchin, to find out whether Count Bezukhi had already left, or was on the point of leaving.

About ten people of all kinds, who had business with Pierre, were waiting for him in the drawingroom. Pierre dressed himself hurriedly, and, instead of going in to see the visitors, went out by the back porch and from there walked out of the gate.

From that time up to the end of the destruction of Moscow none of the people of the house saw Pierre, in spite of the most persistent search, nor knew where he was.

XII.

The Bostdvs remained in the city until September 1st, that is, till the day preceding the one when the enemy entered Moscow.

After Pétya had entered the regiment of Obolenski’s Cossacks, and after his departure for Byélaya Tsérkov, terror took possession of the countess. The thought that both her sons were in the army, that they had both left her wing, that any day she might hear of the death of one of them, or of both together, as she had heard about the death of three sons of an acquaintance of hers, — for the first time struck her with cruel distinctness. She tried to get Nikoläy to come to see her, and wanted herself to go to see Pétya and to find some appointment for him at St. Petersburg, but neither could be done. Pétya could not be returned to her except with the regiment, or by being transferred to another regiment in active service. Nikolay was somewhere in the army, and since his last letter, in which he gave a detailed description of his meeting with Princess Märya, nothing more had been heard from him. The countess did not sleep for nights at a time, and when she did fall asleep she saw her sons killed in her dreams. After many counsels and parleys, the count finally found a means for quieting the countess, lie transferred Pétya from Obolénski’s regiment to that of Bezukhi, which was being formed at Moscow. Though Pétya remained in active service, the countess had at least the consolation of seeing one son under her wing, and she hoped to be able so to arrange matters that she would not have to let him out of her sight, and to find such service for him that he could by no means get into a battle.

So long as Nikoldy had been in danger, it had seemed to the countess (and she repented it for a long time) that she loved her eldest better than the rest of her children ; but when her youngest, the mischievous boy, who had not studied well, who was wanton and wore everybody out, that snub-nosed Pétya, with his merry, black eyes and fresh ruddiness, and his barely sprouting down on his cheeks, fell among the grown-up, terrible, cruel men, who, God knew why, were fighting and finding pleasure in it, — it appeared to the mother that it was he whom she loved more, a great deal more, than all her children. The nearer the time approached when Pétya was to return to Moscow, the more did the restlessness of the mother grow. She thought she should never live to see this happiness. The presence not only of Sdnya, but even of her beloved Natasha, even of her husband, irritated her. ” What do I care for them ? I do not want any one but Pétya ! ” she thought.

During the last days of August the Rostovs received a second letter from Nikoläy. He wrote from the Government of Voronezh, whither he had been sent for mounts. This letter did not assuage her fears. Knowing one of her sons out of danger, she began to worry even more for Pétya.

Although by the 20th of August nearly all the acquaintances of the Rostdvs had left Moscow, and although all counselled the countess to leave as soon as possible, she did not want to hear anything about going before her treasure, adored Pétya, should have returned. On the 28th he came. The morbidly impassioned tenderness with which his mother met him was not to the liking of the sixteen-year-old officer. Although his mother concealed from him her desire to keep him under her wing, Pétya divined her plans and, fearing instinctively that he should become too sentimental with his mother, “ turn woman ” (as he thought to himself), he treated her coldly, avoided her, and, during his stay at Moscow, remained exclusively in Natäsha’s company, toward whom he had always felt a special, almost impassioned, fraternal affection.

With the usual carelessness of the count, on the 28th of August hardly anything was ready for the departure, and the teams from the Ryazdu and Moscow villages, to take all the property away from the house, did not arrive until the 30th.

From the 28th of August to the 30th all of Moscow was in turmoil and motion. Every day thousands of those who were wounded at the battle of Borodiné were brought in through the Dorogomilov barrier and quartered in Moscow, and thousands of teams with the inhabitants and with property passed through the other barriers. In spite of Rostopclnn’s broadsides, or independently of them, or on account of them, the most conflicting and extravagant reports were spread in the city. One said that the order had been given not to let any one out of the city, another, on the contrary, reported that all the images in all the churches had been taken away, and that everybody was being sent out by force; one said that there had been another battle after the one at Borodiné, in which the French had been routed ; another, on the contrary, said that the Russian army had been annihilated ; one told of the Moscow militia, which, headed by the clergy, would go to the Three Hills ; another said softly that Avgustin had not been permitted to leave, that traitors had been caught, that the peasants were rioting and robbing those who departed, and so forth. But these were only the subjects of conversations ; in reality, those who left and those who remained (though the council at which it was decided to abandon Moscow had not yet met at Fili) all felt, though they did not express it, that Moscow would certainly be surrendered, and that it was necessary to get away as quickly as possible and save their property. It was felt that everything would suddenly burst at once and be changed, but by the 1st nothing had changed. As a criminal, who is being led to the execution, knows that he will die in a minute, and yet keeps looking about him and adjusting his tilted cap, so Moscow continued instinctively its customary life, although it knew that the time of ruin was at hand, when all the conventional relations of life, to which they were used to bow, would be broken.

In the course of the three days which preceded the capture of Moscow, the whole family of the Rostovs had all kinds of troubles to contend with. The head of the family, Count Ilyé Andréevich, kept travelling through the city and collecting all kinds of rumours that were current then, and at home made general, superficial, and hasty arrangements about going away.

The countess looked after the packing of the things, was dissatisfied with everything, ran after Pétya, who kept running away from her, and was jealous of Natdsha, in whose company he passed all of his time. Sénya was the only one who attended to the practical side of the affair, — the packing of the things. But Sénya was particularly sad and taciturn during this last period. Nikoldy’s letter, in which he mentioned Princess Marya, called forth in her presence the joyful reflections of the countess, that in the meeting of Princess Marya with Nikolay she saw God’s providence. ” I was never happy when Bolkénski was Natasha’s fiancé, but I always wished that Nikolay would marry the princess, and I have a presentiment that he will. How nice it would be ! “

Sénya felt that it was true, that the only possibility of mending the affairs of the Rostovs lay in Nikolay’s marriage to a rich girl, and that the princess was a good match. But it was very painful to her. In spite of her sorrow, or, perhaps, on account of it, she took upon herself all the heavy cares of the packing, and was busy all the time. The count and countess turned to her when they had any orders to give. Petya and Natasha, on the contrary, not only gave their parents no assistance, but generally managed to get into everybody’s way and to annoy them. Nearly all day long could be heard their running about, their cries, and their causeless laughter. They laughed and were happy, not because there was any reason ; they simply felt happy and merry, and so anything that happened was for them a cause of joy and laughter. Petya was happy because, having left the house a boy, he returned (so all told him) a dashing man ; he was happy because he was at home, because he was back from Byélaya Tsérkov, where there was no hope of getting into a battle soon, and because he was in Moscow, where they would fight in a few days; but chiefly, because Natäsha, with whose mood he always fell in, was happy. Natäsha was happy because she had been sad for too long a time, and now nothing reminded her of the cause of her grief, and she was well. She was also happy because there was a man who admired her (the admiration of others was that axle-grease which was absolutely necessary to make her machine move quite freely), and Pétya admired her. But, above all, they were merry because the war was at the gates of Moscow, because there would be a fight near the barrier, because all were going away and fleeing, in general, because something unusual was taking place, and this is always a source of joy to a man, especially a young man.

XIII.

On August 31st, which was Saturday, everything seemed to be turned topsyturvy in the house of the Rostovs. All the doors were open, all the furniture out of place or taken away, and the mirrors and pictures taken down. Boxes were standing in the rooms, and hay, wrapping-paper, and ropes were scattered about. The peasants and manorial servants, who were taking the things out, walked with heavy steps over the parqueted floors. In the yard were crowded peasant carts, some of them loaded to the top and tied up, others still empty.

The sounds and steps of an immense retinue of servants and of the peasants who had arrived with the teams could be heard in the yard and in the house. The count had driven away in the morning. The countess, whose head was paining her from the worry and noise, lay in the new sofaroom with vinegar bandages on her head. Pétya was not at home (he went to see a companion with whom he intended to leave the militia and pass to the active army). Sdnya was in the parlour looking after the packing of the glass and porcelain. Natäsha was sitting on the floor in her dismantled room, amid scattered robes, ribbons, and scarfs, and, looking .fixedly at the floor, was holding in her hand an old ball-dress, the same (it was now out of style) which she had worn the first time she attended a ball iu St. Petersburg.

Natasha felt ashamed that she did nothing, while all in the house were busy, and tried several times to be doing something ; but her heart was not in her work, and she could not do anything, and did not know how to do anything in which she was not interested with her whole soul. She stood by Sdnya’s side while the porcelain was being put away and wanted to help, but immediately gave it up and went to her room to put away her things. At first it interested her to give her dresses and ribbons away to the maids, but later, when it became necessary to pack away the rest, this seemed tiresome to her.

” Dunydsha, you will put it away for me, my dear, won’t you ? ” And, when Dunyäsha said that she was only too glad to do everything, Natdsha sat down on the floor, took up her old ball-dress, and fell to musing on something quite different from what ought to have interested her just then. Natdsha was roused from her meditation by the talk of the maids in the adjoining room, and by the sounds of their hurried steps from the maids’ room to the back porch. Natdsha got up and looked out of the window. An immense convoy of wounded had stopped in the street.

The maids, lackeys, housekeeper, nurse, cooks, coachmen, outriders, scullions, stood at the gate, looking at the wounded.

Natdsha threw a white handkerchief over her head and, holding it by the corners with both her hands, went out into the street.

The ex-housekeeper, old Mdvra Kuznnnishna, separated herself from the crowd which was standing at the gate, and, going up to a cart, over which there was a mat booth, began to speak to a young, pale officer who was lying in it. Natdsha moved up a few steps and stopped timidly, still holding down her handkerchief and listening to what the housekeeper was saying.

“ So you have no one here in Moscow ? ” said Mavra Kuzmfnishna. ” You would be more comfortable in some private house — say in this house. The masters are leaving.”

« I do not know whether they will permit,” the officer said, in a feeble voice. ” There is the chief — ask him,” and he pointed to a fat major who was returning down the street along the carts.

Natdsha looked with frightened eyes into the face of the wounded officer and immediately walked over to the major.

” May the wounded stop in our house ? ” she asked.

The major, smiling, put his hand to his visor.

” Whom do you wish, mamzelle ? ” he said, blinking and smiling.

Natdsha calmly repeated her question, and her countenance and whole manner, in spite of her holding the handkerchief at its corners, were so serious that the major stopped smiling and, after reflecting, as though asking himself to what degree that was possible, gave her an affirmative answer.

” Oh, yes, why not ! They may,” he said.

Natasha slightly bent her head and with rapid steps returned to Mavra Kuzminishna, who was standing near the officer and speaking with him with compassionate sympathy.

“ You may, he said you may ! ” Natdsha said, in a whisper.

The officer in the booth was driven into the yard of the Rostovs, and dozens of carts with the wounded, being invited by the city dwellers, drove into the yards and in front of the entrances of the houses of Povarskaya Street. Natasha apparently was pleased to have these relations with new men, outside the habitual conditions of life. She tried, with the aid of Mavra Kuzminishna, to get as many carts as possible to enter their yard.

” We must, however, inform your father,” said Mavra Kuzminishna.

“Never mind! What difference does it make? For this one day we will go to the drawingroom. You may give them all our apartments.”

“ What do you mean, miss ? Even though we send them to the wing, to the male servants’ room, to the nurse’s room, we must ask permission.”

” Well, I will ask it.”

Natasha ran into the house and on tiptoe ran through the half-open door of the sofaroom, from which proceeded the odour of vinegar and Hoffmann’s drops.

“ Are you asleep, mamma ? ”

” Oh, what a dream ! ” waking, said the countess, who had just dozed off.

” Mamma, dear,” said Natdsha, kneeling down before her mother and putting her face close to hers. ” I am sorry, forgive me ! I shall never do it again. I am sorry I have waked you. Mdvra Kuzminishna has sent me to you. They have brought some wounded officers here. Will you permit it ? They have no place to go to ; I know you will permit it — ” she spoke rapidly, without drawing breath.

” What officers ? Whom have they brought ? I do not understand a thing,” said the countess.

Natdsha laughed, and the countess, too, gave a weak smile.

” I knew that you would permit— I will tell her so.”

And kissing her mother, Natdsha got up and went to the door. In the parlour she met her father, who had returned home with bad news.

” We have stayed here too long,” the count said, in involuntary anger. ” The club is closed, and the police is leaving.”

” Papa, does it make any difference that I invited the wounded to the house ? ” Natdsha asked him.

“ Of course not,” the count said, absently. ” But this is a different matter. I ask you not to busy yourself now with trifles, but to help pack. We must leave, leave tomorrow— ” The count gave the same order to the majordomo and to the servants.

Pétya, who returned home to dinner, told his news. He said that the people had been receiving weapons in the Kremlin, that, although it said in Rostopchin’s broadside that he would call them two days beforehand, a definite arrangement had already been made for the people to go on the next day to the Three Hills with the weapons, and that a grand battle would be fought there.

The countess glanced with timid terror at the merry, heated face of her son, while he was saying this. She knew’ that if she said a word about her wish that Pétya should not go to that battle (she knew that he rejoiced at the thought of the impending battle), he would say something about men, about honour, and about his country, — something nonsensical, manlike, stubborn, which could not be gainsaid, and the whole matter would be spoiled. Therefore, hoping to arrange things so that she would leave before that event, and take Pétya with her, as her defender and protector, she said nothing to Pétya, but after dinner called the count, whom she begged with tears in her eyes to take her away at once, that very night, if possible. With her feminine, instinctive cunning of love, she, who heretofore had expressed absolute fearlessness, said that she should die of terror, if they did not leave that very night. She was now, without feigning, afraid of everything.

XIV.

Madame Schoss, who came to see her daughter, increased the countess’s fear by telling her what she had seen in the Myasm’tskaya Street in a liquor-shop. While returning home along the street, she could not pass on account of a drunken crowd, which was riotous in front of the shop. She took a cab and drove home by a side street ; the cabman told her that the people had been breaking barrels in the shop, having received an order to do so.

After dinner all the homefolk of the Rostdvs took hold of the packing and the preparations for the departure with a transport of haste. The old count suddenly applied himself to work and after dinner kept going from the yard to the house, and back again, shouting senselessly at the hurrying people, and making them work in still greater haste. Pétya looked after the people in the yard. Sénya did not know what to do under the influence of the conflicting commands of the count, and was all confused. The servants scurried, shouting, quarrelling, and clamouring, through the rooms and through the yard. Natdsha, with her characteristic enthusiasm, suddenly began to work. At first her participation in the matter of packing was received with incredulity. From her they all expected jokes, and they did not wish to obey her ; but she stubbornly and passionately demanded their obedience, grew angry and almost wept because they paid no attention to her, and finally gained their confidence. Her first exploit, which cost her enormous efforts and gained the power for her, was the packing of the carpets. In the count’s house there were expensive Gobelins and Persian rugs. When Natäsha took a hand in the work, there were two open boxes standing in the parlour : one was filled almost to the top with porcelain, the other with rugs. There was still a lot of porcelain standing on the tables, and still more was being brought in from the storeroom. It was necessary to begin a third box, and the men had gone to fetch one.

” S6nya, wait, we will get everything in as it is,” said Natdsha.

” Impossible, miss, we have tried it,” said the butler.

” No, wait, if you please.” And Natäsha began to take out the paper-covered dishes and plates from the box.

” The dishes must be put in the carpets,” she said.

” But there are enough rugs yet to fill three boxes at the least,” said the butler.

” Wait, if you please.” And Natâsha began to open up bundles. ” Not these,” she said about the Kiev ware ; “but these put in the rugs,” she said about the Saxon dishes.

“ Leave it alone, Natäsha ! Please ! We will get it packed away,” Sdnya said to her, reproachfully.

“ Oh, miss ! ” said the majordomo.

But Natäsha did not give in. She threw out all the things, and began rapidly to pack them in her own fashion, deciding that it was useless to take along damaged native rugs and superfluous china. After all was taken out, things were put in anew. And, indeed, by throwing out everything cheap, that which it did not pay to take along, all the costly things found place in the two boxes. However, the lid would not go on the carpet box. It was possible to take out a few things, but Natésha was stubborn. She placed things differently, pressed down, made the butler and Pétya, whom she had drawn after her into the work of packing, press down the lid, and herself made desperate efforts.

” Stop now, Natäsha ! ” said Sonya. “ I see you are right, but you had better take out the one on top.”

” I don’t want to,” cried Natasha, with one hand holding her straggling hair back from her perspiring face, and with the other pressing down the rugs. ” Press, hard, Pétya, press ! Vasflich, press ! ” she cried. The carpets went down snugly, and the lid closed. Natdsha, clapping her hands, shrieked for joy, and tears gushed from her eyes. But this lasted only a second. She immediately took up some other work, and all trusted her now, and the count was not angry when he was told that Natdsha had changed his order, and the servants came to Natasha to ask whether a team was to be tied with ropes, and whether it was loaded enough. The work proceeded merrily, thanks to Natasha’s arrangements : the useless things were left, and the expensive things were put away in the most compact manner possible.

But, no matter how busy all the people were, everything was not packed away by evening. The countess fell asleep, and the count, delaying the departure until the next day, went to bed.

S6nya and Natdsha slept, without undressing, in the sofaroom.

During that night another wounded man was taken through Povdrskaya Street, and Mävra Kuzmmishna, who happened to stand at the gate, let the vehicle pass into the yard of the Rostovs. This wounded man, according to Mdvra Kuznunishna’s judgment, was a very important personage. He was driven in a carriage which was completely covered by a boot, and the top was down. On the box, with the coachman, sat a venerable old man, a valet. Back of the carriage a doctor and two soldiers drove in another vehicle.

” Please, come to our house ! The masters are departing, and the house is all empty,” said the old woman, turning to the old servant.

« We hardly hoped to bring him in alive,” the valet replied, with a sigh. ” We have a house in Moscow, but it is far away, and nobody is living in it.”

“ I beg you to stop here. Our masters have plenty of everything, if you please,” said Mavra Kuzminishna. ” Is he very ill ? ” she added.

The valet waved his hand.

« We do not hope to get him home alive ! I must ask the doctor.” And the valet climbed down from the box and went up to the other vehicle.

” All right,” said the doctor.

The valet again approached the carriage, looked into it, shook his head, ordered the coachman to drive into the yard, and stopped beside Mdvra Kuzminishna.

“0 Lord Jesus Christ!” he muttered.

Mavra Kuzminishna proposed that the wounded man be taken into the house.

” The masters will say nothing,” she said.

It was necessary to avoid ascending stairs, and so the wounded man was taken to the wing and put down in Madame Schoss’s former room. This wounded man was Prince Andréy Bolkonski.

XV.

There came Moscow’s last day. The weather of that autumn day was bright and cheerful. It was a Sunday. As on any other Sunday, the church-bells rang for mass. No one, it seemed, was able to comprehend what it was that awaited Moscow.

The condition of society showed only two indications of the state in which Moscow was : the rabble, that is, the class of the poor, and the prices for things. Factory hands, manorial servants, and peasants, gathering in a large crowd, with which mingled officials, seminarists, gentlefolk, on that day went early in the morning to the Three Hills. After waiting there in vain for Bostopchin and convincing themselves that Moscow would be surrendered, this crowd scattered throughout Moscow, in taverns and restaurants. The prices, too, on that day showed the condition of affairs. The prices for weapons, for gold, for carts and horses, kept increasing, while the price of paper money and city luxuries grew lower and lower, so that in the middle of the day there were cases when expensive wares, such as cloth stuffs, were with difficulty carried away by cabmen, while a peasant horse would sell for five hundred roubles ; and furniture, mirrors, bronzes were given away for nothing.

In the staid old house of the Bostdvs the dissolution of the former conditions of life was but feebly expressed. Out of the large retinue of servants only three disappeared during the night ; but nothing was stolen, and in view of the changed prices of things, it turned out that the thirty teams, which had arrived from the villages, represented an enormous fortune, which many people envied the Rostdvs, and for which very large sums were offered them. Not only were large sums offered for the teams, but in the evening and early the next morning of September 1st orderlies and servants were sent by the wounded officers to the house of the Rostdvs, or the wounded men themselves, who were quartered in that house and in the neighbouring houses, dragged themselves up, begging the servants of the Rostdvs to procure teams for them. The majordomo, to whom such requests were made, was, indeed, sorry for the wounded, but he refused to do anything for them, saying that he did not even dare to report to the count about it. No matter how much he pitied the wounded who were to be left behind, it was evident to him that if he gave away one team, there would be no reason why he should not give another, all, — even the carriages. Thirty teams could not save all the wounded, and in the general calamity a person could not help thinking of his own family. Thus the majordomo thought for his master.

On awakening in the morning of September 1st, Count Ilya Andréevich softly left the sleeping-room, and in his lilac silk morninggown went out on the porch. The teams stood all tied up in the yard. The carriages were standing at the porch. The majordomo was at the entrance, speaking with an old orderly and a young, pale officer with his arm in a sling. Seeing the count, the majordomo made a significant and stern sign to the orderly and the officer to depart.

“ Well, is everything ready, Vasilich ? ” said the count, rubbing his bald head, and casting a good-natured glance at the officer and the orderly and nodding to them. (The count was fond of new faces.)

” We are ready to hitch up at once, your Serenity ! ” “Very well. As soon as the countess wakes up, we shall leave, with God’s aid. What do you wish, gentlemen ? ” he turned to the officer. “ Are you in my house ? “

The officer moved up. His pale face suddenly flushed with a bright colour.

” Count, do me the favour — permit me — for God’s sake — to take a seat somewhere on your teams. I have nothing here with me — Any cart will do me — ”

The officer had not yet finished, when the orderly came with the same request for his master.

“ Oh, yes, yes, yes ! ” the count said, hurriedly. ” I am very, very glad. Vasilich, give the order, well, to clear one or two carts, well — what is necessary — ” the count said, in indefinite expressions, as though giving some kind of an order.

At the same moment the ardent expression of the officer’s gratitude confirmed what he meant to order. The count looked about him : in the yard, at the gate, in the window of the wing, could be seen wounded men and orderlies. They were all watching the count and moving up toward the porch.

” Please to come to the gallery, your Serenity ! What will your order be about the pictures there?” asked the majordomo.

The count went with him into the house, repeating his order not to refuse the wounded men who asked to be taken along.

” Oh, well, you can take off a thing or two,” he added, in a soft, mysterious voice, as though fearing lest he be heard.

At nine o’clock the countess awoke, and Matréna Timo-fevna, her former maid, who now served the countess in a capacity of something like chief of gendarmes, came to inform her mistress that Mdrya Karlovna was very much offended, and that the misses’ summer dresses could not be left behind. To the inquiry of the countess, why Madame Schoss was offended, it turned out that her trunk had been taken down from a team, and that all the loads were being loosened and goods taken down, to pick up the wounded, whom the count in his goodness ordered to be taken along. The countess sent for her husband.

“ What is this, my dear ? I hear that the things are being again unloaded.”

” You see, ma chère, I wanted to tell you — ma chère little countess — an officer came to see me, asking me to let the wounded have a few teams. Tins is mere pelf, but think what it means for them to stay here ! Really, in our yard there are some officers, — we invited them ourselves — I thought, ma chère, you know, really, now, ma chère — let them be taken along — what is the use of hurrying ? “

The count said this timidly, as he always spoke when there were money considerations. The countess was used to tliis tone, which always preceded some business that was ruinous to the interest of the children, such as the building of some gallery or hothouse, or the arrangement of some domestic theatre or music, and she was in the habit of opposing, and regarded it as her duty to oppose, that which was expressed by that timid tone.

She assumed her humble and lachrymose aspect and said to her husband :

“ Listen, count ! You have carried matters so far that nothing is offered for the house now, and now you want to ruin all the property of our children. You yourself have said that there are one hundred thousand roubles’ worth of goods in the house. My dear, I do not agree with you, not at all. Do as you please ! There is a government for the wounded. They know what to do. Look, over there, at the Lopukhins’ they took everything away two days ago. That is the way people do. We are the only fools. Pity the children, at least, if you will not pity me.”

The count waved his arms and, -without saying a word, left the room.

“Papa, what was it about?” Natasha said, having entered her mother’s room soon after him.

“ Nothing ! What is it to you ? ” the count said, angrily.

” No, I heard it ! ” said Natasha. ” Why does mamma not want it ? “

« What is it to you ? ” shouted the count.

Natasha walked away to the window and became pensive.

“ Papa, Berg has come to see us,” she said, looking out of the window.

XVI.

Berg, Rostov’s son-in-law, was already a colonel with the decorations of St. Vladimir and Anna on his neck, and still occupied that quiet and pleasant place of assistant chief of staff of the assistant chief of staff of the first division of the second corps.

On the 1st of September he arrived in Moscow from the army. He had nothing to do in Moscow; but he noticed that all in the army asked permission to go to Moscow, and they did something there. He, too, regarded it as necessary to ask for a leave of absence, to attend to domestic and family matters.

Berg drove up to the house of his father-in-law in his neat little carriage, drawn by a pair of well-fed bays, precisely such as a certain prince had. He cast a curious glance at the teams in the yard and, ascending the porch, took out a clean handkerchief and tied a knot in it.

From the antechamber Berg ran with a gliding, impatient step into the drawingroom, embraced the count, kissed NaUsha’s and Sdnya’s hands, and hastened to ask about the health of mamma.

” No time to think of health now ! Tell us,” said the count, ” all about the army. Is it retreating, or will there be a battle ? “

” Almighty God alone, papa,” said Berg, ” can decide the fate of our country. The army is burning with the spirit of heroism, and now the leaders have, so to speak, assembled for a consultation. It is not known what will happen. But let me tell you, papa, such a heroic spirit, such truly antique valour in the Russian troops, which they — it,” he corrected himself, ” have shown or evinced during this battle of the 26th, — I tell you, there are no words sufficient to describe them — Let me tell you, papa” (he struck his breast, just as he had seen a general, who made the remark, strike his, though Berg’s gesture came too late, because the breast had to be struck at the words ” Russian army ”), “ I will tell you frankly that we, the chiefs, not only did not have to drive the soldiers, or anything like it, but had great difficulty in restraining these, these — yes, these valorous antique exploits,” he said, hurriedly. ” General Barclay de Tolly everywhere risked his life in front of the army, — let me tell you. Our corps was placed on the slope of a hill. You may imagine !” And here Berg told everything he could remember from the various accounts he had heard about the battle. Natdsha, looking fixedly at Berg, which embarrassed him, seemed in his face to look for the solution of a certain question.

” The heroism which the Russian warriors have evinced cannot be imagined and properly appreciated ! ” said Berg, looking at Natdsha and, with the intention of appeasing her, smiling at her in response to her stubborn look. “ Russia is not in Moscow, but in the hearts of her sons ! Am I right, papa ? ” said Berg.

Just then the countess came out of the sofaroom, with a weary, dissatisfied look. Berg sprang up, kissed the hand of the countess, inquired about her health, and, expressing his sympathy with a shake of his head, stopped beside her.

“ Yes, mamma, I must tell you frankly, these are hard and sad times for ever)- Russian. But why worry so much ? You will have time to get away — “

” I do not understand what the servants are doing,” said the countess, turning to her husband. ” I have just been told that nothing is ready yet. Somebody ought to attend to it. And now you will spare Mitenka. There will never be an end of it ! “

The count wanted to say something, but evidently restrained himself. He got up from his seat and went toward the door.

Berg took out his handkerchief, as though wishing to clear bis nose. Seeing the knot, he meditated awhile, giving a sad and significant shake of the head.

” Papa, I have a great favour to ask of you,” he said.

” Hem,” said the count, stopping.

“ I was just coming past Yusupov’s house,” Berg said, smiling. ” The manager, an acquaintance of mine, came out and asked me if I would not buy something. I went in, you know, from curiosity, and I saw there a chiffonière and a toilet. You know how Vyéra wanted to have it, and how we discussed the matter.” (Berg instinctively passed into a joyful tone at the thought of his fine home, when he began to speak of the chiffonière and toilet.) ” Oh, how beautiful it is ! It moves out, and has an English secret box, you know. Vyéra has been wanting it so long. I should like so much to surprise her. I saw such a mass of peasants in your yard. Let me have one of them, — I will pay him well, and — ”

The count frowned and began to clear his throat.

“ Ask the countess. — I am not looking after things.”

” If it is troublesome, please, don’t,” said Berg. ” I only wanted it for Vyéra’s sake.”

” Oh, all of you get away to the devil, to the devil, to the devil, and to the devil ! ” shouted the old prince. ” My head is all in a whirl.”

He left the room. The countess burst out weeping.

” Yes, yes, mamma, the times are very trying ! ” said Berg.

Natasha left with her father and, as though thinking hard of something, first walked behind him, and then ran downstairs. On the porch stood Pétya, attending to the arming of the men who were to leave Moscow. The hitched teams were still standing in the yard. Two of them were unloaded and upon one of them was climbing an officer, supported by an orderly.

” Do you know why ? ” Pétya asked Natdsha.

Natdsha understood that Pétya was asking why her father and mother had quarrelled. She made no reply.

” Because papa wanted to give all the teams to the wounded,” said Pétya. ” Vasilich told me so. In my opinion — ”

” In my opinion,” Natäsha suddenly almost screeched, turning her angry face to Pétya, ” it is such an abomination, such a baseness, such a — I do not know what. Are we Germans ? ” Her throat trembled from convulsive sobs, and, fearing to weaken and to let out in vain the whole charge of her anger, she turned around and darted up-stairs.

Berg was sitting near the countess and respectfully consoling her like a relative. The count, with his pipe in his hand, was walking up and down in the room, when Natäsha, with a face contorted with anger, broke into the room like a storm, and with rapid gait approached her mother.

” It is an abomination ! It is baseness ! ” she cried. ” It cannot be that you should have ordered it.”

Berg and the countess looked at her in perplexity and fright. The count stopped at the window, listening to her.

” Mamma, it won’t do ! Look in the yard ! ” she cried. “ They will be left ! ”

” What is the matter with you ? Who are they ? What do you want ? ”

” The wounded, down there ! That will not do, mamma ! It is horrid — No, mamma, darling, it is not right, — forgive me if you please, darling— Mamma, what do you care for the things which we will take away.

Just see what there is ill the yard — Mamma ! — It cannot be ! “

The count was standing at the window and, without turning his face around, kept listening toNatdsha’s words. Suddenly he began to snivel and put his face to the pane.

The countess looked at her daughter, saw her face, which was embarrassed for her mother’s. sake, saw her agitation, and comprehended why her husband did not look around at her, and cast a confused glance about her.

” Oh, do as you please ! I am not keeping anybody from doing what they want ! ” she said, beginning to surrender.

” Mamma, darling, forgive me ! “

But the countess pushed her daughter aside and went up to her husband.

“ Mon cher, give the proper orders — I know nothing about it,” she said, lowering her eyes in shame.

” The eggs — the eggs are teaching the hen — ” the count said, through tears of joy. He embraced his wife, who was glad to hide her shamefaced countenance on her husband’s bosom.

“ Papa ! Mamma î May I make the arrangements ? May I ?” asked Natàsha. « We will take the most necessary things along anyway,” said Natasha.

The count shook his head in assent, and Natdsha ran with the same rapid gait, with which she used to run in the catching game, through the parlour to the antechamber, and down the stairs into the yard.

The servants assembled around Natasha and could not believe the strange order she was giving, until the count himself, in the name of his wife, repeated the order that the teams be all given to the wounded, while the boxes were to be taken to the storeroom. Having grasped the order, the servants cheerfully and busily set about the new work. It now no longer appeared strange to the servants ; on the contrary, they thought it could not be otherwise, just as fifteen minutes before it had appeared quite natural to leave the wounded and take the things along.

All the people of the house, as though to atone for not having done it before, went with a vim at the business of placing the wounded in the carts. The wounded crawled out of their rooms and with joyful, pale faces surrounded the teams. The rumour spread to the neighbouring houses that there were teams there, and wounded people from the other houses began to fill the yard. Many of these begged them not to take down the things, but to allow them to sit on top of the baggage. But the work of unloading could no longer be stopped. It made no difference whether only half or all was to be left. In the yard lay the unloaded boxes with dishes, with bronze, with pictures and mirrors, which had been packed with such great care the night before, and still they found it possible to take this and that off, and turn the teams over to the wounded.

” We can take four more,” said the manager. “ I give up my cart. Else what shall we do with them ? ”

“Give them my wardrobe cart,” said the countess. ” Dunyäsha will take a seat with me in the carriage.”

The wardrobe cart was given up, and it was sent out to pick up wounded men two houses away. All the homefolk and the servants were lively and animated. Natäsha was in a transport, such as she had not experienced for a long time.

” Where shall we tie it up ? ” said the servants, fixing a box to the narrow backboard of a carriage. “We ought to leave at least one team.”

” What is there in it ? ” asked Natdsha.

“ The count’s books.”

“ Leave them. Vasflich will look after them. They are not necessary.”

The calash was full of people ; the question was where to put Pétya.

” He goes on the box. You will go on the box, Pétya, will you not ? ” cried Natäsha.

Sénya was busy all the time herself ; but the aim of her cares was contrary to that of Natäsha. She put away the things which were to be left, noting them down at the request of the countess, and tried to have as many things as possible taken along with them.

XVII.

At two o’clock the Rostdvs’ four carriages stood at the entrance all packed and with the horses harnessed in. The carts with the wounded, one after another, left the yard.

The carriage, in which Prince Andréy was being taken away, passing the porch, attracted the attention of Sénya, who with the aid of a maid was arranging a seat for the countess in her enormous high carriage, which was standing at the entrance.

“ Whose vehicle is that ? ” asked Sénya, looking through the carriage window.

” Did you not know it, miss ? ” replied the maid. ” The prince is wounded : he passed the night here, in our house, and is going with us.”

” Who is it ? What is his name ? “

” Why, our former fiancé, Prince Bolkénski ! ” the maid said, with a sigh. ” They say he is dying.”

Sénya jumped out of the carriage and ran away to the countess. The countess, already dressed in travelling costume, with a shawl and hat, was walking wearily in the drawingroom, waiting for the family, in order to sit with them awhile with closed doors and pray before the departure. Natäsha was not in the room.

” Mamma,” said Sénya, “ Prince Andréy is here, mortally wounded. He is travelling with us.”

The countess opened her eyes in terror and, taking Sénya’s hand, looked around her.

” Natäsha ? ” she muttered.

Both for Sonya and for the countess this news had in the first moment but one meaning. They knew their Natasha, and the fright at what would happen to her when she received this news drowned in them all sympathy for the man, whom both loved.

” Nat ds ha does not yet know ; but he is travelling with us,” said Sdnya.

” You say that he is dying ? “

Sonya nodded.

The countess embraced Sonya and burst out weeping.

” The ways of the Lord are inscrutable ! ” she thought, feeling that, in everything which was taking place now, there was beginning to be shown the hand of the Almighty, which heretofore had been hidden from the view of men.

” Well, mamma, everything is ready. What is the matter ? ” Natasha asked, with an animated face, as she rushed into the room.

” Nothing,” said the countess. ” If all is ready we will start.” And the countess bent down over her reticule, to conceal her disturbed countenance. Sonya embraced Natasha and kissed her.

Natäsha looked inquiringly at her.

” What is the matter with you ? What has happened ?”

” Nothing —nothing.”

” Something very bad for me ? What is it ? ” asked sensitive Natdsha.

Sdnya drew a sigh and made no reply. Pétya, Madame Schoss, Mavra Kuzminishna, and Vasilich entered the drawingroom and, closing the door, all seated themselves and sat for a few moments in silence, without looking at each other.

The count was the first to rise. Drawing an audible sigh, he began to make the sign of the cross before the image. All did the same. Then the count began to embrace Mävra Kuzminishna and Vasilich, who were to remain in Moscow, and, while they caught his hand and kissed him on the shoulder, he tapped them lightly on their backs, saying indistinctly some kind words of consolation. The countess went into the image-room, and S<5nya found her there on her knees before the images which, here and there, were still left hanging on the wall. (The most precious images, with which some family tradition was connected, were going with them.)

On the porch and in the yard, the men who were leaving, with daggers and swords, with which Pétya had armed them, and with their pantaloons tucked into their boots, and tightly girded with straps and belts, were bidding good-bye to those who were going to stay.

As always happens at a departure, much was forgotten and improperly packed. Two Haiduks stood for quite awhile at either side of the open carriage door and steps, ready to help the countess in, while the maids kept running with cushions and bundles from the house to the carriages, and back again.

” They will forget things as long as they live ! ” said the countess. ” You know that I cannot sit this way.”

And Dunyàsha, clenching her teeth and without replying, with an expression of reproach in her face, rushed into the carriage to fix the seat differently.

” Oh, what people ! ” said the count, shaking his head.

Old coachman Efim, with whom alone the countess dared to travel, sitting high on his box, did not even look back at what was going on behind him. He knew from his experience of thirty years’ standing that some time would pass yet before they would tell him to proceed, ” With God’s aid ! ” and that, even when that had been said, he would be stopped twice, and people would be sent back for something that had been forgotten, and that, after that, he would again be stopped and the countess herself would put her head out of the window and would ask him for Christ’s sake to drive carefully down slopes. He knew all that, and so waited for what would happen, much more patiently than his horses (especially the left chestnut horse, Falcon, which was pawing the ground and chewing at the bit). Finally all took their seats ; the steps were raised and thrown into the carriage ; the door slammed ; somebody was sent to fetch a little box ; the countess put her head out of the window and said what was expected. Then Efim slowly took off his cap from his head and began to cross himself. The outrider started. The right shaft horse tugged at his collar ; the high springs creaked, and the body of the carriage began to move. A lackey jumped on the box, while the vehicle was in motion. The carriage began to jolt as it drove out on the uneven pavement ; the same happened to the other vehicles, and the procession started down the street. In the carriages all made the sign of the cross toward a church which was opposite them. The people who were to remain in Moscow walked on both sides of the carriages, to see them off.

It was a long time since Natasha had experienced the joyful sensation she was now experiencing, as she was sitting in the carriage near the countess and looking at the slowly receding walls of agitated Moscow, which they were now abandoning. At times she put her head out of the window and looked both back and ahead at the long procession of the carts with the wounded, which preceded them. Almost in front of all she could see the closed top of Prince Audrey’s carriage. She did not know who was in it, and yet, every time she surveyed the caravan, her eyes sought out that carriage. She knew that it was preceding them all.

At Kudrino were met several caravans resembling the procession of the Rostov vehicles, and coming from the Nikftskaya, the Pryésen, the Podnovinskoe wards. Down the Sadovdya the carriages and teams drove in two rows.

Passing by the Sukharev tower, Natasha, who was with curiosity casting rapid glances at the passers-by and at the carriages, suddenly gave a shout of joy and surprise :

” 0 dear ! Mamma, Sdnya, see, it is he ! “

“Who? Who?”

” Look, upon my word, Bezukhi ! ” said Natdsha, putting her head out of the carriage window and looking at a tall, fat man in the caftan of a coachman, evidently a disguised gentleman, to judge by his face and form, who was walking under the arch of the Sukhdrev tower with a sallow, beardless old man in a frieze overcoat.

” Upon my word, Bezukhi, in a caftan, with an old boy ! Upon my word ! ” said Natdsha, ” look, look ! ”

” No, it is not he ! How can you say such foolish things ? “

” Mamma,” cried Natdsha, ” I will stake my head that it is he. I assure you. Wait, wait,” she shouted to the coachman ; but the coachman could not stop because from Myeshchdnskaya Street came other teams and carriages, and they yelled at the Rostov caravan to move on and not bar the way.

Indeed, after a distance had been traversed, all the Rostdvs saw Pierre, or a man who remarkably resembled Pierre, in a coachman’s caftan, walking down the street with bent head and serious face, by the side of a small, beardless old man, who had the appearance of a lackey. This old man noticed the face which looked out of the carriage at him, and he, respectfully touching Pierre’s elbow, said something to him, while pointing to the carriage. It was quite awhile before Pierre made out what he meant, he was so much absorbed in his thoughts. Finally, when he understood him, he looked in the direction pointed out to him and, recognizing Natdsha, that very second, submitting to his first impulse, moved rapidly toward the carriage. But, having taken about ten steps, he evidently recalled something and stopped.

Natäsha’s face, which was thrust out of the window, beamed with a sarcastic kindness.

” Pierre Kirfllych, come here ! We have recognized you ! This is strange ! ” she cried, extending her hand. “ What is this ! Why are you dressed this way ? “

Pierre took the offered hand and, while walking, kissed it awkwardly, as the carriage continued to move.

“ What is this, count ? ” the countess asked him, in a voice expressive of surprise and compassion.

” What ? What ? Why ? Do not ask me,” said Pierre, looking at Natasha, whose beaming glance of joy (he felt this even without gazing at her) embraced him with its charm.

” Are you going to stay in Moscow ? ”

Pierre was silent for awhile.

” In Moscow ? ” he said, interrogatively. ” Yes, in Moscow. Good-bye ! “

” Oh, I wish I were a man ! Then I should certainly stay with you ! Oh, how good this is ! ” said Natasha. ” Mamma, permit me to stay here ! “

Pierre looked absently at Natäsha and was on the point of saying something to her, but the countess interrupted him :

” You have been in a battle, we heard.”

” Yes, I have,” replied Pierre. ” Tomorrow there will again be a battle —” he began, but Natàsha interrupted him :

“But what is this, count? You look like a different man.”

“ Oh, do not ask me, do not ask me ! I do not know anything myself. Tomorrow— No, no! Good-bye, good-bye!” he said. “This is a terrible time!” And, falling behind the carriage, he went to the sidewalk.

Natäsha kept looking out of the window for a long time, beaming on him a kindly and, at the same time, slightly sarcastic, joyful smile.

XVIII.

Since his disappearance from his house, Pierre had passed two days in the empty quarters of the deceased Bazdyéev. It happened like this.

Awakening the next morning after his return to Moscow and his meeting with Bostopclun, Pierre could not for a long time make out where he was and what was wanted of him. When, among the names of other persons, who were waiting for him in the reception-room, he was informed of that of a Frenchman, who had brought a letter from Countess Hélène Vasflevna, he was suddenly overcome by that feeling of confusion and hopelessness to which he was prone to surrender. He suddenly imagined that everything was ended now, that everything was mixed, that there was no righteous and no guilty person, that there was nothing ahead, and that there was no issue from this situation. Smiling an unnatural smile and muttering something, he now sat down on the sofa in a helpless attitude, now rose, walked up to the door, and looked through a chink into the reception-room, now, waving his arms, went back and took up a book. The majordomo came for the second time to report to Pierre that the Frenchman who had brought him a letter from the countess was very anxious to see him if only for a minute, and that the widow of O. A. Bazdyéev asked him to take away the books, as she herself had left for the country.

” Oh, yes, wait ! Or no, no, go and tell them that I shall be there soon,” Pierre said to the majordomo.

But the moment the majordomo had left, Pierre took his hat, which was lying on the table, and went out of the cabinet by the back door. There was nobody in the corridor. Pierre passed through the whole length of the corridor up to the staircase and, frowning and rubbing his brow with both hands, walked down to the first landing. The porter was standing at the main entrance. From the landing, to which Pierre had walked down, another staircase led to the back entrance. Pierre took this direction and came out into the yard. But in the street, the coachmen, who were standing with the carriages, and the janitor saw the master, as soon as he passed the gate, and took off their caps before him. Notwithstanding their glances directed upon him, Pierre acted like an ostrich, which hides its head in a bush, in order not to be seen ; he lowered his head and, accelerating his steps, walked down the street.-

Of all the work which presented itself to Pierre, on that morning, that of examining the books and papers of Osip Aleksyéevich seemed the most important to him.

He took the first cab he came across and gave orders to be driven to the Patriarch Ponds, where was the house of Bazdyéev’s widow. Looking around all the time at the caravans which on both sides of him were starting away from Moscow, and so arranging his obese body on the rattling old cab as not to slip down, Pierre, experiencing a joyous sensation, like the one experienced by a truant boy, began to converse with the cabman.

The cabman told him that on that day they were distributing weapons at the Kremlin, and that on the following day the people would all be driven out to the Three Hills barrier, where a great battle would take place.

Upon arriving at the Patriarch Ponds, Pierre found Bazdyéev’s house, where he had not been for a long time. Gerasim, the same sallow, beardless old man whom Pierre had seen five years before in Torzhék with Ösip Aleksyéevich, came out in response to his tap.

“ Is any one at home ? ” asked Pierre.

“ On account of the present state of affairs, Sdfya Danilovna has left with her children for the Torzhok village, your Serenity.”

” Nevertheless I will go in, — I have to examine the books,” said Pierre.

“ If you please, come in ! The brother of the deceased, — the kingdom of heaven be his ! — Makar Aleksyéevich, is staying here, but, as you know, he is feeble,” said the old servant.

Makér Aleksyéevich was, as Pierre knew, a halfdemented brother of Ösip Aleksyéevich, who drank to excess.

” Yes, yes, I know. Come, let us go in ! ” said Pierre, entering the house.

A tall, bald-headed old man in a morninggown, with a red nose, wearing galoshes on his bare feet, was standing in the antechamber; upon noticing Pierre, he angrily muttered something and went into the corridor.

” He used to have a great mind, but now, as you may see, he is enfeebled,” said Gerasim. ” Would you like to go to the cabinet ? ” Pierre nodded. ” The cabinet has remained in the same condition ever since it was sealed up. Sofya Danilovna left orders to have the books handed over to whomever you should send for them.”

Pierre entered the same gloomy cabinet, which he had entered with such trepidation during the lifetime of his benefactor. This cabinet, now dusty and untouched since the demise of Ösip Aleksyéevich, looked gloomier still.

Gerdsim opened a shutter and left the room on tiptoe. Pierre made the round of the cabinet, went up to the safe in which lay the manuscripts, and took out that which at one time formed one of the most important relics of the order. Those were the original Scotch acts with notes and explanations by the benefactor. He sat down at the dusty writing-table and placed the manuscripts before him, opened them, closed them again, and finally, pushing them away from him, leaned his head on his arm and fell to musing.

Gerasim looked cautiously into the cabinet several times, and saw that Pierre was still sitting in the same posture. More than two hours passed. Gerasim permitted himself to make a slight noise at the door, in order to attract Pierre’s attention. Pierre did not hear him.

” Do you command me to dismiss the driver ? “

” Oh, yes,” Pierre said, regaining consciousness, and rising rapidly. ” Pisten,” he said, taking Gerasim by the button of his coat and looking down at the old man with sparkling, moist, ecstatic eyes, ” listen! Do you know that there will be a battle tomorrow? “

” I have heard them say so,” replied Gerasim.

” I beg you not to tell any one who I am. And do what I tell you — “

” Yes, sir,” said Gerdsim. ” Do you wish to eat ? “

” No, but I need something else. I need peasant attire and a pistol,” said Pierre, suddenly growing red in the face.

” Yes, sir,” Gerdsim said, after a moment’s hesitation.

The rest of that day Pierre passed alone in the cabinet of his benefactor, restlessly pacing from one corner to another, as Gerdsim could hear, and speaking to himself. He slept that night on a bed made for him in the same room.

Gerdsim, with the habit of a servant who in his lifetime has seen many queer tilings, accepted Pierre’s migration without surprise, and seemed to be satisfied because he had some one to attend to. That same evening, he without even asking himself what it was for, got a caftan and cap for Pierre, and promised to supply him on the next day with the desired pistol. Mak dr Aleksydevich on that evening, plashing with his galoshes, twice went up to the door and stopped, casting an humble look at him ; but the moment Pierre turned around to him, he angrily and shamefacedly wrapped himself in his morninggown and hurried away. Pierre was dressed in the coachman’s caftan, which Gerdsim had provided and washed out for him, and was on his way with him to the Sukhdrev Tower, to buy himself a pistol, when he met the Rostdvs.

XIX.

On the night of the 1st of September Kutuzov’s command was given for the Russian troops to retreat to the Ryazan road by way of Moscow.

The first troops moved at night. The troops that were marching at night were not in a hurry and moved slowly and leisurely ; but at daybreak, the moving troops, upon approaching the Porogomilov Bridge, saw before them endless masses of soldiers, crowding on the other side, hurrying across the Bridge, and rising beyond and barring the streets and alleys, and other masses, pushing on from behind. A causeless haste and alarm took possession of the troops. They all rushed forward toward the bridge, upon the bridge, to the fords, and into the boats. Kutuzov ordered himself to be taken by back streets to the other side of Moscow.

By ten o’clock of the morning of September 2d, only the troops of the rear-guard were left in the Porogomilov suburb. The army was already on the other side of the Moskva and beyond Moscow.

At this same time, at ten o’clock of September 2d, Napoleon was standing among his troops on the Poklonnaya Hill and surveying the spectacle which was revealed before him. From August 26th to September 2d, that is, from the battle of Borodino to the enemy’s entrance into Moscow, during all the days of that alarming, that memorable week, there was that unusual autumn weather, which always surprises people, when the sun, low in the horizon, warms better than in spring ; when everything 462 sparkles in the rarefied, pure air so as to make the eyes smart ; when the breast grows more vigorous and is refreshed, as it inhales the redolent autumnal air ; when even the nights are warm ; and when, during these dark, warm nights, there is a downpour of golden stars from the heavens,— a constant source of fear and delight.

On September 2d, at ten o’clock, the weather was just like that. There was a fairylike morning glow. Moscow, viewed from the Pokldnnaya Hill, extended spaciously with its river, its gardens, and its churches, and seemed to be living its life, quivering with its cupolas, like stars, in the rays of the sun.

At the sight of the strange city, with its unfamiliar forms of an unusual architecture, Napoleon experienced that somewhat envious and restless curiosity, which people experience at the sight of forms of life, which are foreign to them and do not know of them. Apparently this city was living with all the powers of its life. By those indefinable tokens, by winch at a remote distance a living body is unmistakably distinguished from a dead, Napoleon on the Pokldnnaya Hill saw the quivering of life in the city and, as it were, felt the breath of that large and beautiful body.

Every Russian, looking at Moscow, feels that she is a mother; every foreigner, looking at her and not knowing her maternal meaning, must feel the feminine character of this city, and Napoleon, too, felt it.

“ Cette ville asiatique aux innombrables églises, Moscou la sainte ! La voilà donc enfin, cette fameuse ville / Il était temps’,’ said Napoleon, and, dismounting, he ordered the map of this Moscoib to be placed before him, and called up the interpreter, Lelorme dTdeville. ” Une ville occupée par l’ennemi ressemble à une fille qui a perdu, son honneur,” he thought (as he had said to Tuchkdv at Smolensk). And from this point of view he looked at the Eastern beauty, who was lying before him, and whom he

had never seen. It seemed strange to him that his old desire, which had seemed impossible, was now fulfilled. In the bright morning light he glanced now at the city, now at the plan, verifying the details of the city, and the certainty of possessing it both agitated and frightened him.

“But could it have been otherwise?” he thought. “Here it is, that capital, at my feet, awaiting its fate. Where is Alexander now, and what is he thinking? Strange, beautiful, majestic city ! And strange, majestic moment ! In what light do I appear to them ? ” he thought of his troops. ” Here is the reward for all those who were of little faith,” he thought, looking around at his suite and at the advancing troops as they were drawing up. “ One word of mine, one motion of my hand, and the ancient capital des Czars will be in ruins. Mais ma clémence est toujours prompte à descendre sur les vaincu,s. I must be magnanimous and truly great. But no, it is not true that I am in Moscow,” it suddenly occurred to him. ” Still, there it lies at my feet, playing and quivering with its golden cupolas and crosses in the rays of the sun. But I will spare it. On the old monuments of barbarism and despotism I will write the great words of justice and mercy — Alexander will feel this more painfully than anything, I know him.” It seemed to Napoleon that the chief meaning of what was taking place consisted in a personal struggle with Alexander. “ From the heights of the Kremlin, — yes, this is the Kremlin, yes, — I will give them laws of justice, I will show them the meaning of true civilization, I will compel generations of boyars lovingly to recall the name of their conqueror. I will tell the deputation that I did not want and still do not want the war ; that I have been waging war only with the false politics of their court ; that I love and respect Alexander ; and that I will accept in Moscow conditions of peace worthy of me and of my nation. I do not wish to profit by the fortune of war in order to humiliate the respected Tsar. ‘Boyars,’ will I say to them, ‘ I do not want war ; I want the peace and welfare of all my subjects.’ However, I know that their presence will make me enthusiastic, and I will speak to them, as I always speak : clearly, solemnly, and grandly. But is it really true that I am in Moscow ? Yes, here it is ! ”

“ Qu’on m’amène les boyards ! ” he turned to the suite.

A general with a brilliant suite at once galloped away to fetch the boyàrs. Two hours passed. Napoleon had had his breakfast and was again standing in the same spot on the Poklonnaya Hill, waiting for the deputation. His speech to the boydrs was now clearly defined in his imagination. It was full of dignity and of that grandeur which Napoleon understood.

The tone of magnanimity, with winch Napoleon intended to act in Moscow, carried him away. In his imagination he appointed days of “réunion dans le palais des Czars” where the Russian notables were to meet the notables of the French emperor. He mentally appointed a governor, one who would be able to gain the confidence of the population. Having heard that there were many charitable institutions in Moscow, he decided in his imagination that these establishments should be showered with his favours. He thought that, as in Africa it was necessary to sit in a mosque in a bournous, so in Moscow he had to be as merciful as the Tsars. And, completely to touch the hearts of the Russians, he, like all Frenchmen, who cannot imagine anything sentimental without thinking of “ma chère, ma tendre, ma pauvre mère” decided that on all these institutions he would have inscribed in large letters : “ Etablissement dédié à ma chère mère.” “ No, simply, ‘ Maison de ma Mère,’ ” he decided to himself. ” But am I really in Moscow ? Yes, there it is before me : but why is the deputation from the city so late in coming ? ” he thought.

In the meantime an agitated consultation was taking place in a whisper between the generals and marshals, in the rear of the emperor’s suite. Those who had been sent after the deputation had returned with the news that Moscow was deserted, that all had left it. The countenances of those who were deliberating were pale and agitated. It was not the fact that Moscow had been abandoned by the inhabitants (however important this event seemed to be) which frightened them, but how to announce the fact to the emperor, how, without placing his Majesty in that terrible situation called by the French ” le ridicule,” to announce to him that he had in vain been waiting so long for the boydrs, and that there were there throngs of drunken men, and nobody else. Some said that it was necessary, at whatsoever cost, to get together some kind of a deputation ; others disputed this opinion and insisted that it was necessary cautiously and cleverly to prepare the emperor and to inform him of the facts.

“Il faudra le lui dire tout de même” said the gentlemen of the suite. “liais, messieurs — ” The situation was the more difficult since the emperor, reflecting on his plans of magnanimity, kept walking patiently up and down, in front of the plan, now and then shielding his eyes and looking down the road toward Moscow and smiling a cheerful and proud smile.

” Mais c’est impossible,” shrugging their shoulders, said the gentlemen of the suite, not daring to utter the well-understood, terrible word ” le ridicule.”

Meanwhile the emperor, tired of his vain expectancy, and feeling with his instinct of an actor that the majestic moment, lasting too long, was beginning to lose its grandeur, gave a sign with his hand. There resounded the single report of the signalling cannon, and the troops which had been besieging Moscow from various sides moved into the city through the Tver, Kaluga, and Dorogomilov barriers. Faster and faster, racing with each other, at a quick step and at a trot, the troops moved, disappearing in the clouds of dust which they raised, and deafening the air with their shouts, which blended in one din.

Absorbed in watching the movement of his troops, Napoleon with them reached the Dorogomilov barrier; but there he stopped again and, dismounting, walked for a long time near the Kammer-kolleg rampart, waiting for the deputation.

XX.

Moscow, in the meantime, was deserted. There were still some people in it; there was still left one-fiftieth part of its population, but it was deserted. It was as deserted as is a queenless hive in the last days of its existence.

In the queenless hive life is extinct, but to a superficial glance it appears as animated as any other hive. The bees circle about the queenless hive as merrily, in the warm rays of an afternoon sun, as about living hives; like living hives it sends the odour of honey out for some distance away, and bees issue from it. But examine it close by, and you will understand that there is no life within. The bees do not fly in the same manner as about the living hives, and not the same odour, not the same sound, startles the bee-master. To the tap of the bee-master against the wall of the injured hive, instead of the former instantaneous, unisonal answer, the hissing of tens of thousands of bees lowering their backs and producing that aerial life sound by the swift beating of their wings, he receives a reply of discordant buzzes, dully resounding in the different parts of the empty hive. From the entrance does not proceed, as before, a pungent, winy odour of honey and poison, nor the warmth of fulness, but with the odour of the honey is blended the odour of emptiness and decay. At the entrance there are no longer the guards, who, ready to perish in the defence, raise up their backs and trumpet the alarm. There is no longer that even, soft sound, the pulsation of labour, resembling the sound of boiling, but there is heard the hard, dissonant din of disorder. Into the hive and out of it fly black, longish, honey-stained plunderer bees ; they do not sting, but slip away from danger. Formerly bees only flew in with burdens, and came out again without them, but now they fly out laden with burdens.

The bee-master opens the upper part of the hive, and looks down at the bottom. Instead of the black clusters of laboriously peaceful, plump bees, holding each other by the legs and pulling off the wax in an uninterrupted whisper of work, — drowsy, dried-up bees stroll here and there, on all sides, along the bottom and the walls of the hive. In place of the clean, glue-calked, wing-swept floor, the bottom is filled with bits of wax, excrements of bees, and half-dead bees, barely moving their legs, and dead ones, which have not been removed.

The bee-master opens the upper part and examines the mouth of the hive. Instead of the serried ranks of the bees, filling up all the interstices of the combs and warming the new brood, he sees the skilful labour of the combs, but no longer in the same state of virgin purity as before. Everything is abandoned and soiled. The black plunderer bees slink rapidly and stealthily through the combs ; native bees, dried up, of small size, flabby, as though old, saunter slowly, not interfering with any one, wishing for nothing, and having lost the consciousness of life. Drones, bumblebees, gadflies, butterflies in their flight senselessly strike against the walls of the hive. Here and there, amidst the comb, with the dead brood and the honey, occasionally is heard an angry hum ; two bees cleaning a nest of the hive from old habit, somewhere are carefully dragging away a drone, tugging at it with all their might, without knowing why they are doing it. In another comer two old bees are languidly fighting, or cleaning, or feeding each other, not knowing whether they are doing so out of hostility or friendship. In a third place, a mass of bees, crushing each other, attack some victim, and beat and choke it. And the weakened or dead bee falls slowly and lightly, like down, on a heap of dead bodies. The bee-master turns aside the middle combs, in order to examine the nets. Instead of the packed black circles of the thousands of bees sitting back to back, and guarding the highest mystery of birth, he sees hundreds of limp, half-dead, and drowsy skeletons of bees. They nearly all of them died without knowing it, while sitting on the sanctuary, which they watched, and which is no more. They emit an odour of decay and death. Only a few of them stir, rise, indolently fly about, and seat themselves on the hand of the enemy, not having the strength to die in stinging him ; the others, that are dead, drop down like fish-scale. The bee-master closes up the hive, marks it with a piece of chalk, and, when the time comes, breaks it up and scrapes it dean.

Just so Moscow was deserted, when Napoleon, tired, restless, and frowning, was walking up and down near the Kammer-kolleg rampart, awaiting at least the external, though to his way of thinking necessary, observance of the proprieties, — the deputation.

In the different corners of Moscow people moved senselessly about, observing the old habits, and not understanding what was going on.

When Napoleon was informed, -with due caution, that Moscow was empty, he looked angrily at him who made that announcement and, turning away, continued to walk in silence.

” The carriage ! ” he said. He seated himself in the carriage, by the side of the adjutant of the day, and drove into the suburb.

« Moscou déserte ! Quel événement invraisemblable ! ” he said to himself.

He did not have himself driven to the city, but stopped at a tavern of the Dorogomilov suburb.

Le coup de théâtre avait raté.

XXL

Our troops passed through Moscow from two o’clock in the night to two o’clock in the afternoon, and drew along with them the last departing inhabitants and the wounded.

The largest crush, during the movement of the troops, took place on the Stone, Moskvd, and Yauza Bridges. While the troops, forking off about the Kremlin, were crowding at the Moskvd and Stone Bridges, an immense number of soldiers, taking advantage of the stop and pressure, returned from the bridges and stealthily and silently slunk past the Church of Basil the Blessed and underneath the Borovitski Gate up to the Fair Esplanade, where they instinctively felt they could without much labour pilfer the goods of others. As big a crowd of people as gathered in Merchant Row, when wares were offered at bargains, now filled all its passages and crossways. But there were lacking the gentle, feigning, and enticing voices of the merchants and of the peddlers, and the variegated mass of female purchasers ; there were only the uniforms and overcoats of the soldiers without their guns, silently entering the rows and coming out with burdens. The merchants and huckstresses (there were but few of them) walked, as though lost, among the soldiers, opened and closed their shops, and with the aid of the lads carried out the wares. In the square near the Merchant Row stood drummers, sounding an alarm ; but the sound of the drum did not cause the plundering soldiers to assemble to the call, but only made them run away farther from the drum. Among the soldiers, in the shops and along the walks, could be seen men in gray caftans with shaven heads. Two officers, one of them with a sash over his uniform, mounted on a lean dark gray horse, the other in an overcoat, on foot, were standing in the corner near the Ilinka and talking about something. A third officer galloped up to them.

“The general commanded them to be driven out at once at all costs. Why, this is dreadful ! Half of the men have run away ! ”

” Where are you going ? Where ? ” he shouted to three footsoldiers, who, without their guns, lifting the skirts of their overcoats, were slipping past him back to the ranks. ” Stop, rascals ! “

“Yes, try and collect them!” replied another officer. ” You can’t pick them all up. They ought to move faster, so that the last of them should not escape, that is all ! ”

” How can they go faster ? There is a crush on the bridge, and they can’t move. Had we not better put out a cordon, to keep the men in the rear from running away ? ”

” Go there and drive them back ! ” shouted the senior officer.

The officer with the sash climbed down from his horse, called the drummer, and went with him under the arches. Several soldiers started on a run in a crowd. A merchant with red warts on his cheek near his nose, with a calm and imperturbable expression of calculation on his well-fed face, walked over hurriedly and foppishly to the officer, swaying his arms.

” Your Honour,” he said, ” do us the favour and defend us. We do not care so much for a trifle, on the contrary, with pleasure, if you please — I will bring out some cloth — to an honourable man I will give two pieces, with the greatest pleasure — because we feel — but this is mere robbery ! Please ! Can’t you order up a guard and give us a chance to close our shops ? ”

Several merchants crowded about the officer.

“ Oh ! What is the use of complaining ? ” said one of them, a lean man with a stern face. ” When your head is taken off you don’t weep for your hair. Let them take what they want ! ” And, with an energetic gesture of his hand, he turned sidewise to the officer.

” Ivdn Siddrych, it is easy for you to talk that way ! ” the first merchant said, angrily. “ Please, your Honour ! ”

” What is the use of talking ! ” cried the lean merchant. ” I have here, in three shops, one hundred thousand roubles’ worth of goods. Do you suppose I can save it all, after the army has left ? People, let me tell you, God’s power cannot be put down.”

” Please, your Honour,” said the first merchant, with a bow.

The officer stood in perplexity, and Iris face expressed indecision.

” What do I care ? ” he suddenly shouted, walking with rapid steps through the rows. In an open shop were heard blows and curses, and, just as the officer walked up to it, a man in a gray coat, with a shaven head, was kicked out from it. This man ducked and rushed past the merchants and officers. The officers made for the soldiers who were in the shop ; but just then the furious cries of an immense crowd were heard on the Moskva Bridge, and the officer rushed out in the square.

” What is it ? What is it ? ” he asked, but his companion was already galloping in the direction of the cries, past the church of Basil the Blessed. The officer mounted his horse and rode after him. When he reached the bridge, he saw two unlimbered cannon, infantry marching over the bridge, several upturned carts, a number of frightened faces, and the smiling countenances of the soldiers. Near the cannon stood a team drawn by two horses. Back of the vehicle four greyhounds, in collars, were shying from the crowd. On the vehicle there was a

mountain of things, and on the very top, beside an upturned baby chair, sat a woman, who was shrieking in a piercing and desperate manner. The officer’s comrades told him that the cries of the throng and the shrieks of the woman were caused by the fact that General Ermolov, coming up and learning that the soldiers were scattering in the shops and that crowds of inhabitants were barring the bridge, had ordered the cannon to be unlimbered and threatened to shoot on the bridge. The crowd, upsetting carts, crushing each other, crying furiously, and pressing forward, cleared the bridge, and the troops moved on.

XXII.

The city, in the meantime, was deserted. There was hardly any one in the street. All the gates and shops were closed ; here and there a lonely cry or drunken singing could be heard near a dramshop. Nobody travelled through the streets, and but rarely could the steps of a passer-by be heard. In Povârskaya Street everything was quiet and abandoned. In the immense yard of Rostov’s house lay bits of hay and dung from the caravan which had departed, but not a man was to be seen. Two men of those, who were left with all the goods in the house of the Rostdvs were sitting in the drawingroom. Those were janitor Ignat and Cossack Mishka, Vasilich’s grandson, who remained in Moscow with his grandfather. Mishka opened the clavichord and played on it with one finger. The janitor, with arms akimbo and a smile of joy, was standing before a large mirror.

” This is fine, isn’t it ? Eh ? Uncle Ignat ! ” said the boy, suddenly beginning to strike the keys with both his hands.

“ I declare ! ” replied Ignat, wondering how it was that his face kept smiling more and more in the mirror.

“ Shameless people ! How shameless ! ” was heard, behind them, the voice of Mavra Kuzminishna, who had just entered. “ What are you grinning there for, fat snout ? Nothing is put away, and Vasilich is all worn out. Just wait!”

Igndt adjusted his belt, stopped smiling, and, humbly lowering his eyes, left the room.

” Aunty, I was doing it lightly,” said the boy.

” I will give you lightly, brat ! ” cried Mavra Kuzminishna, lifting her arm against him. ” Go and prepare the samovar for your grandfather ! “

Mavra Kuzminishna brushed off the dust, closed the clavichord, and, sigliing deeply, left the drawingroom and locked the entrance door. Upon reaching the yard, she stopped to think where to go to now, whether to drink tea with Vasilich in the wing, or to the storeroom to put away what had not yet been straightened out. In the quiet street rapid steps were heard. They stopped at the small gate : the latch rattled in the hand of him who was trying to open it.

Mavra Kuzminishna went up to the gate.

” Whom do you want ? “

“ The count, Count Ilya Andréevich Rostdv.”

” Who are you ? “

“I am an officer. I want to see him,” was heard the pleasant voice of a Russian gentleman.

Mdvra Kuzminishna opened the gate, and into the yard stepped an eighteen-year-old, round-faced officer, whose type of face resembled that of the Rostovs.

” They have left, sir. They deigned to leave yesterday at vesper-time,” Mavra Kuzminishna said, kindly.

The young officer stood at the gate, as though in indecision whether to go in, or not, and he clicked with his tongue. ” How annoying ! ” he muttered. ” If only yesterday — Oh, what a pity ! “

Mavra Kuzminishna in the meantime attentively and sympathetically examined the familiar features of the Rostov breed in the face of the young man, and the torn overcoat, and the worn boots, which he wore.

“ “What did you need the count for ? ” she asked.

” Well — what is to be done ?” the officer said, in vexation, taking hold of the gate, as though wishing to leave. He again stopped in indecision.

“ You see,” he suddenly said, “I am a relative of the count’s and he has always been good to me. So, you see,” he looked with a kindly and cheerful smile at his overcoat and boots, “ my clothes are getting worn, and I have no money ; I wanted to ask the count — “

Mdvra Kuzminishna did not allow him to finish his sentence.

“Just wait a moment, sir! One little minute,” she said.

The moment the officer dropped his hand from the gate, Mdvra Kuzminishna turned around and with a rapid old woman’s walk went to the back yard and to her wing.

While Mdvra Kuzminislina was running to her room, the officer, lowering his head and looking at his tom boots, walked up and down the yard, with a slight smile on his face. ” What a pity I did not find uncle ! What a charming old woman ! Where has she gone ? If I can only find out by what streets I can soonest catch up with my regiment which now must be near the Rogdzhskaya barrier,” the young officer was thinking.

Mdvra Kuzminishna, with a frightened and, at the same time, determined face, carrying in her hand a rolled-up checkered handerchief, came around the corner. While still a few steps away from him, she unfolded the handkerchief, took out of it a white twenty-five rouble assignat and hastened to hand it to the officer.

“If his Serenity were at home, of course, he would treat you like a relative — but maybe — now — ”

Mdvra Kuzminishna lost her composure and became embarrassed. But the officer, neither refusing, nor hurrying, took the bill and thanked Mdvra Kuzminishna.

“If the count were at home,” Mdvra Kuzminishna repeated, as though apologizing. “ Christ be with you, sir ! May God preserve you ! ” said Mavra Kuzminishna, bowing and seeing him out.

The officer, as though laughing at himself, smiling, and

shaking his head, almost at a trot ran through the empty streets to join his regiment at the Yauza Bridge.

Mdvra Kuzmmishna stood for a long time with moist eyes in front of the closed gate, pensively shaking her head and experiencing a sudden outburst of maternal tenderness and pity for the young officer, who was a stranger to her.

XXIII.

In the unfinished house in the Vdrvarka, underneath which was a dramshop, could be heard drunken shouts and songs. On the benches at the tables, in a small, dirty room, sat some ten factory hands. All of them intoxicated, sweating, with dim eyes, straining hard, and opening their mouths wide, were singing some kind of a song. They were singing out of tune, with great labour and effort, evidently not because they wanted to sing, but in order to prove that they were drunk and carousing. One of them, a tall, light-complexioned fellow, in a clean, blue long coat, stood over them. His face with its thin, straight nose would have been handsome, if it had not been for his thin, hard-set, constantly moving lips, and blear, blinking, motionless eyes. He stood over those who were singing, and evidently reflecting about something, solemnly and angularly swayed above their heads his white arm, which was bared up to the elbow, and at the same time tried to spread his dirty fingers in an unnatural manner. The sleeve of his long coat kept falling down, and the lad every time carefully rolled it up again with his left hand, as though it were especially important that his white, muscular, swaying arm should remain uncovered. In the middle of the song, shouts of a fight and blows were heard outside on the porch. The tall lad swung his arm.

” Enough ! ” he yelled, commandingly. “ A fight, boys ! ” and still continuing to roll up his sleeve, he went out on the porch.

The workmen went out after him. The factory hands, who on that morning were drinking in the dramshop under the leadership of the tall lad, had brought the dramshop-keeper Indes from the factory, and for this he gave them the liquor. Some blacksmiths from neighbouring smithies, hearing the carousal in the dramshop, and supposing it had been taken by force, wanted to make their way in. A fight took place on the porch.

The dramshop-keeper was fighting at the door with a smith ; just as the factory hands came out, the smith tore himself loose from the innkeeper and fell with his face on the pavement.

Another blacksmith was trying to get in, pressing with all his might against the innkeeper.

The lad with the rolled-up sleeve as he walked up struck the smith, who was trying to get in, a blow in his face, and yelled wildly :

” Boys, our men are being worsted ! “

Just then the first smith got up from the ground and, scratching up blood on his mauled face, cried, in a whimpering voice :

” Help ! Murder ! They have killed a man ! Friends ! “

” 0 Ford, they have killed a man ! ” screamed a woman, who ran out from a neighbouring gate.

A crowd gathered about the bleeding blacksmith.

“ You have robbed people long enough and taken their shirts off their backs,” said some one, turning to the innkeeper. ” Why have you killed a man ? Murderer ! “

The tall lad, who was standing on the porch, turned his eyes now upon the dramshop-keeper, now upon the smiths, as though reflecting with whom he ought to fight now.

” Ruiner of souls ! ” he suddenly shouted at the dramshop-keeper. “ Bind him, boys ! “

” I guess you will bind me ! ” shouted the dram-shopkeeper, swinging himself free from the men who were rushing up against him. Pulling off his cap, he threw it

down on the ground, äs ____

mysterious meaning, the factory hands, who surrounded the innkeeper, stopped in indecision.

” My friend, I know what is what pretty well. I will go to the captain of police. You think I won’t ? Nobody has been permitted to act the robber to-day ! ” shouted the innkeeper, lifting up his cap.

” We will go there, I declare ! We will — I declare ! ” repeated, one after the other, the innkeeper and that tall lad, and both moved down the street. The bleeding blacksmith walked by their side. The factory hands and others, talking and shouting, followed them.

At the corner of the Moroséyka, opposite a large house with closed shutters, on which there was a shoemaker’s sign, stood about twenty gloomy-visaged shoemakers, lean, emaciated men in cloaks and torn long coats.

” He has paid the people nicely ! ” said the lean master shoemaker with a scant beard and wrinkled brow. ” He has been sucking our blood, and that is the end of it. He has led us on and on, for a week. Now he has brought us to the extremity, and himself has left.”

Upon seeing the people and the bloodstained man, the master stopped talking, and all the shoemakers, with hurried curiosity, joined the moving crowd.

” Where are the people going ? “

” Where else but to find the authorities.”

” Well, is it true that we have been worsted ? ”

” What do you think ? Listen to what the people say ! ”

There were heard questions and replies. The innkeeper, profiting by the preoccupation of the crowd, fell back and returned to his inn.

The tall lad did not notice the disappearance of his enemy, the innkeeper, and, swaying his bared arm, kept talking to the crowd and thus attracted the universal attention. The rabble crowded mainly around him, hoping

to get from him a solution of all the questions that interested them.

” Let him show what is what, — let him show up the law, — that’s what the authorities are for ! Do I say it right, Orthodox people ? ” said the tall lad, with a barely perceptible smile.

“ He thinks that there are no authorities ! How could we get along without the authorities ? There are enough who would be only too glad to rob ! “

” What is the use of talking nonsense ! ” somebody said in the crowd. ” How could they abandon Moscow ? They made fun of you when they told you that, and you believed them. There are a lot of our soldiers coming on ! So they have let him in ! That’s what the authorities are for ! Listen to what people are saying,” they said, pointing to the tall lad.

At the wall of Kitây-gorod, another, a small group of men, surrounded a man in a frieze overcoat, who was holding a paper in his hands.

” An ukase, — they are reading an ukase !” the throng shouted and darted in the direction of the reader.

The man in a frieze overcoat was reading a broadside of August 31st. When the crowd surrounded him, he seemed to feel embarrassed, but, at the request of the tall lad, who had made his way up to him, he, with a slight tremble in his voice, began to read the broadside from the beginning :

” I will go tomorrow morning to the Most Serene Prince,” he read (” To his Serenity ! ” the tall lad said solemnly, smiling with his mouth and knitting his brow), ” in order to have a chat with him, and act and help the troops to destroy the malefactors ; we will kick the life ” (continued the reader, and stopped. ” You see ?” the tall lad shouted, triumphantly. “He will let them have it — ”) ” out of them, and will send all these guests to the devil ; I will come tomorrow at dinner-time, and we will go to work, and will do it up brown, and will do up the malefactors.”

The last words were uttered by the reader during a complete silence. The tall lad gloomily hung his head. It was evident that no one had understood those last words, and that especially the words, ” I will come tomorrow at dinner-time,” pained obviously both the audience and the reader. The comprehension of the masses was tuned on a high key, and this was entirely too simple and too uselessly comprehensible ; it was what any of them might have been able to say, and what, therefore, could not have been contained in an ukase which proceeded from the higher authorities.

All stood in grim silence. The tall lad moved his lips and staggered.

” We ought to ask him ! — There he is ! — I guess you will ask him ! — Why not ? He will tell — ” suddenly was heard in the last rows of the throng, and the attention of all was directed toward the carriage of the chief of police, which was driving into the square, accompanied by two mounted dragoons.

The chief of police had on that morning driven out by the order of the count to set the barges on fire, and through this order had gained a large sum of money, which at that moment he was carrying in his pocket. Upon seeing the mass of people approaching toward him, he ordered the coachman to stop.

“ What are the people doing there ? ” he shouted at the throng, who were singly and timidly walking up to the carriage. ” What kind of people are these, I ask you ? ” repeated the chief of police, who did not receive an answer.

” They, your Honour,” said the scribe in the frieze mantle, ” they, your Worship, in consequence of the proclamation of his Most Serene Count, without sparing their lives, wish to serve, and not to be riotous, as is said by his Most Serene Highness, the count — ”

« The count has not left. He is here, and there will be an order concerning you,” said the chief of police. « March ! ” he said to the coachman.

The throng stopped and crowded about those who had heard what the chief had said, and looked at the receding carriage. Just then the chief looked back in fright, and said something to the coachman, and the horses drove off faster still.

” It’s a deception, boys ! Take us to him ! ” shouted the tall lad. “ Don’t let him get away, boys ! Let him explain ! Hold him ! ” yelled the men, and the rabble bolted for the carriage.

The throng started after the chief of police, turning with noisy conversation into the Lubydnka.

” How is this ? The gentlefolk and the merchants have left, and we shall suffer for them! Are we dogs, or what ? ” could be heard with increasing frequency in the crowd.

XXIV.

On the evening of September 1st, after his interview with Kutuzov, Count Rostopchin, aggrieved and offended because he had not been invited to the council of war, and because Kutuzov had paid absolutely no attention to his proposition that he should take part in the defence of the capital, and surprised by the view, newly revealed to him in the camp, which held the question of the tranquillity of the capital and of its patriotic mood not only as of secondary importance, but even as absolutely useless and insignificant, — aggrieved, offended, and surprised by all this, Count Rostopchin returned to Moscow. Having eaten his supper, the count, without undressing, lay down on the sofa, and was at one o’clock wakened by a courier, who brought him a letter from Kutuzov. This letter informed him that, since the troops were retreating through Moscow on the Ryazan road, he was requested kindly to send out some officers of police who would see the troops through the city. This information was nothing new to Rostopchin. Not only since his meeting with Kutuzov on the Pokldnnaya Hill on the previous day, but even since the battle of Borodind, when all the generals who arrived in Moscow unanimously proclaimed that it was impossible to give battle, and when the Crown property was being taken away every night with his permission, and half the inhabitants left the city, had Count Rostopchm known that Moscow would be evacuated ; none the less this news, transmitted in the form of a simple note with a command from Kutuzov, and received at night, during his first sleep, surprised and irritated the count.

Later on, while explaining his activity during this time, Count Rostopchin wrote several times in his memoirs that he then had two important aims : “ De maintenir la tranquillité à Moscou et d’en faire partir les habitants.” If this double aim be admitted, every act of Rostopchin’s appears reproachless. Why had not the church property, the arms, cartridges, powder, stores of grain been taken away, and why had thousands of inhabitants been deceived into the belief that Moscow would not be surrendered, so that they suffered great losses ? In order that tranquillity might be preserved in the capital, replies Count Rostopchin’s explanation. Why were stacks of useless documents taken away from the government offices, and Leppich’s balloon, and many other objects? In order to leave the city empty, replies Count Rostop-chrn’s explanation. All that is necessary is to admit that something was endangering the public tranquillity, and every action becomes justifiable —

All the atrocities of the Terror were based only on the care for the public tranquillity. On what, then, was based Count Rostopchin’s fear in regard to the public tranquillity of Moscow during the year 1812 ? What reason was there to assume in the city the possibility of an uprising ? The inhabitants were all leaving ; the army, retreating, filled Moscow. Why should the masses have become riotous ?

Neither in Moscow, nor in the rest of Russia, did there take place anything resembling an uprising, during the invasion of the enemy. On the 1st and 2d of September more than ten thousand people were left in Moscow, and there was nothing in the way of a demonstration, except a throng which was assembled in the yard of the commanderin-chief, and which had been invited by him to come together. Evidently there would have been even less fear of an uprising if, after the battle of Borodind, when the evacuation of Moscow became an apparent fact, or, at least, probable, — instead of agitating the masses by the distribution of arms and by broadsides, Rostopchin had taken measures to take away all the church property, the powder, the ammunition, the money, and had frankly proclaimed to the people that the city was to be abandoned.

Rostopchin, a fiery man of sanguine temperament, who had always moved in the highest spheres of the administration, though possessed of a patriotic sentiment, did not have the slightest conception of the people over which he intended to exercise his rule. Ever since the beginning of the invasion of Smolensk by the enemy, Rostopchin had formed in his imagination a plan of guiding the popular sentiment, — the heart of Russia. It seemed to him (as it seems to every administrator) not only that he was ruling over the external actions of the inhabitants of Moscow, but that he was also guiding their sentiments by means of those proclamations and broadsides, written in that language of the rowdies, which in their own circles the masses despise, and which they cannot understand when they hear it proceeding from above. The beautiful rôle of the guide of public sentiment was so much to the liking of Rostopchin and he had become so accustomed to it, that the necessity of emerging from this rôle and of abandoning Moscow without any heroic effect caught him unawares, and he suddenly lost from under him the soil on which he had been standing, and positively did not know what to do. Though he knew it, up to the last minute he did not believe with all his soul in the possibility of abandoning Moscow, and did nothing for this purpose. The inhabitants had been leaving against his wishes. If the government offices were taken away, this was done only at the request of the officials, with whom the count agreed reluctantly. He himself was occupied only with the rôle which he had laid out for himself. As often happens with people who are endowed with a fiery imagination, he had known long ago that Moscow would be abandoned, but he had known this only by reflection ; he had not believed it with his whole soul, had not transferred himself with his imagination into that new state of affairs.

All his activity, thorough and energetic as it was (as to how far it was useful and was reflected on the people is a different question), all his activity was directed only toward rousing in the inhabitants that feeling which he himself experienced, — a patriotic hatred of the French and a confidence in themselves. But when the event assumed its actual, historical proportions ; when it proved insufficient to express in words only his hatred for the French ; when it was impossible to give utterance to this hatred even in battle ; when his selfconfidence proved useless in relation to the one question of Moscow ; when the whole population, like one man, abandoning their property, flowed out of Moscow, showing by this negative action the whole force of their national feeling, — the rôle which Rostopchm had chosen suddenly appeared irrational. He suddenly felt himself lonely, feeble, and ridiculous, without any ground under his feet.

When, awakened from his sleep, he received Kutuzov’s cold and commanding note, he felt himself the more irritated the more he was conscious of being guilty. There was still left in Moscow all that which had been entrusted to him, all the Crown property, which he ought to take away. There was no possibility of hauling everything away.

” Who is to blame for it ? Who has allowed it to come to all this ? ” he thought. ” Of course, not I. Everything was in readiness with me, — I held Moscow like this! And see what they have brought us to ! Scoundrels, traitors ! ” he thought, without clearly defining who these scoundrels and traitors were, but feeling the necessity of hating these very traitors, who were to blame for that false and ridiculous position in which he was placed.

That night Count Rostopchm gave such orders as people from all corners of Moscow came to him to receive. The men nearest to the count had never seen him so gloomy and so irritated.

“Your Serenity, they have come from the Department of Estates,— the director is waiting for orders— From the Consistory, from the Senate, from the University, from the Foundling House, — the vicar has sent some one — he wants to know — What are your orders about the fire brigade ? The inspector of the prisons — the inspector of the insane asylum —” they kept announcing men to the count all night long.

To all these questions the count gave short, angry answers, which showed that his orders were now useless, that the whole work which he had so carefully prepared had been spoiled by somebody, and that that somebody would have to bear all the responsibility for what was taking place.

” Tell that blockhead,” he replied to the inquiry from the Department of Estates, ” to stay and keep a watch on his documents. What nonsense are you asking there about the fire brigade? If they have horses, let them go to Vladimir. Certainly they won’t leave them for the French ! ”

” Your Serenity, the superintendent from the insane asylum has come. What is your order ? ”

” What is my order ? Let them all leave, that is all — And let the insane out on the city. Since crazy people are now commanding our armies, God means these, too, to be out.”

To the question about the prisoners who were sitting in the hole, the count shouted angrily to the inspector :

” What do you want ? Two battalions of guards, which do not exist ? Let them out, that is all ! ”

” Your Serenity, there are some political prisoners :

Myeshkdv, Vereshchagin.”

” Vereshchagin ! Has he not been hanged yet ? ” cried Rostopchin. ” Bring him to me ! “

At nine o’clock in the morning, when the troops were already moving through Moscow, nobody came to ask the count’s orders. Whoever could leave, went away of his own accord ; those who stayed, decided for themselves what was to be done.

The count ordered his horses to be brought, in order to leave for Sokdlniki, and taciturn, looking yellow, and knitting his brow, sat in his cabinet.

It seems to every administrator, during a quiet, stormless time, that the population in his charge moves only by his efforts, and this consciousness of his utility each administrator feels to be the chief reward for his labours and efforts. Naturally, so long as the historic sea is calm, to the administrative governor, who, in his leaky boat, sticks his pole into the ship of the nation and moves along, it must appear that the ship against which he is leaning is moving by his efforts. But let a storm rise, the sea become agitated, and the ship begin to move, and the illusion becomes impossible. The ship moves with its large, independent motion ; the pole does not reach as far as the moving ship, and the administrator suddenly, from his position as ruler, from the source of power, passes over to the rôle of a useless, insignificant, feeble man.

Rostopchm felt this, and it irritated him.

The chief of police, whom the crowd had stopped, and an adjutant, announcing that the horses were ready, entered the count’s cabinet. Both were pale, and the chief of police, having reported the execution of his order,

informed the count that there was an immense concourse of people who wanted to see him.

Without replying a word, Rostopchm rose and with rapid steps marched toward his luxurious, bright drawingroom, walked over to the door of the balcony, took hold of the knob, dropped it again, and went up to the window, from which the throng could be seen better. The tall lad was standing in the front row and was saying something, with a stern face and a swinging of his arm. The bloodstained blacksmith with the gloomy aspect was standing near him. Through the closed windows could be heard the din of voices.

” Is the carriage ready ? ” asked Rostopchm, walking away from the window.

” Yes, your Serenity,” said the adjutant.

Rostopchm again went up to the door of the balcony.

” What do they want ? ” he asked the chief of police.

” Your Serenity, they say that they have assembled to go against the French, as you have ordered, and they have been shouting something about treason. It is a riotous crowd, your Serenity. I got away from them with difficulty. Your Serenity, I take the liberty of proposing — ”

” Please to leave ! I know without you what is to be done,” Rostopchm cried out, angrily. He was standing near the door of the balcony, looking at the rabble. ” Tins is what they have done with Russia ! This is what they have done with me ! ” thought Rostopchm, feeling that in his soul there was rising an irrepressible fury against some one, to whom the cause of all that was happening might be ascribed. As is frequently the case with impassioned people, fury had already possessed him, but he was still looking for an object of his rage: “La voilà, la populace, la lie du pcxi/plc,” he thought, looking at the rabble, ” la plèbe qu’ils ont soulevée par leur sottise. Ils leur faut une victime” it occurred to him, as he glanced at the tall lad, who was swinging his arm. And so it occurred to him that he himself needed this victim, this object of his rage.

“ Is the carriage ready ? ” he asked for the second time.

“ Yes, your Serenity. What is your order in respect to Vereshchagin ? He is waiting at the porch,” replied the adjutant.

” Ah ! ” exclaimed Rostopchm, as though startled by some unexpected recollection.

Opening the door rapidly, he stepped out on the balcony with a determined gait. The din of noises died down ; the caps and hats were taken off, and all eyes were directed upon the count.

“ Good morning, boys ! ” the count said, in a rapid and loud voice. ” Thank you for having come. I will be out in a minute, but first we must attend to the malefactor. We must punish the malefactor who is the cause of the ruin of Moscow. Wait for me!” And the count just as rapidly returned to the apartments, slamming the door behind him.

Through the throng went an approving murmur of satisfaction.

” So, he will attend to all the malefactors ! And you said it was the French— He will show you what is what ! ” said the men, as though upbraiding each other for their want of faith.

A few minutes later an officer hurriedly walked out by the parade entrance and gave some command, and the dragoons drew up. The crowd eagerly moved from the balcony to the porch. Walking out on the porch with swift, angry steps, Rostopchm looked about him, as though in search of somebody.

” Where is he ? ” said the count, and the very moment he said this, he saw a young man with a long, thin neck and half of his head shaven and grown out again, coming around the corner, accompanied by two dragoons. The

young man wore what once had been a foppish fox fur coat, covered with blue cloth, but was now threadbare and dirty, hempen prisoner’s pantaloons, tucked in uncleaned, worn-out, thin boots. On his thin, weak legs hung heavy fetters, which retarded the faltering gait of the young man.

” Ah ! ” said Rostopchfn, hurriedly turning his glance away from the young man in the fox fur coat, and pointing to the lower step of the porch. ” Put him there ! “

The young man, clanging his fetters, stepped heavily to the place indicated, holding down with a finger the tight collar of his fur coat, twice turned his long neck around, and, with a sigh and an humble gesture, placed his thin hands, which were not those of a labourer, over his abdomen.

The silence lasted a few seconds while the young man took up his position on the step. Only in the last rows of the throng, where people were pressing forward to one spot, was there heard grunting, groaning, punching, and the thud of shuffling feet.

Rostopchfn waited for him to stand still, and in the meantime rubbed his face with his hand.

” Boys ! ” said Rostopchfn, in a metallic, sonorous voice. ” This man is Vereshchagin, that same scoundrel, from whom Moscow has perished.”

The young man in the fox fur coat stood in an humble attitude, folding his hands in front of his abdomen and bending his head slightly. His emaciated, hopeless-looking, youthful face, disfigured by the shaven head, was drooping. At the first words of the count he slowly raised his head and looked up at the count, as though wishing to say something or at least to catch his eyes. But Rostopchfn did not look at him. On the long, thin neck of the young man, a vein back of his ear swelled like a rope and grew livid, and his face was flushed red.

All eyes were directed upon him. He glanced at the crowd and, as though despairing at the sight of the expressions which he read on the faces of the men, he smiled sadly and timidly, and, again dropping his head, changed his position on the steps.

” He has betrayed his Tsar and his country ; he has delivered himself to Bonaparte ; he alone of all the Russians has disgraced the name of a Russian, and from him Moscow is perishing,” said Rostopchfn, in an even, piercing voice. He suddenly cast a rapid glance down at Vereshchagin, who was still standing in his submissive attitude. This glance seemed to explode him, and, raising his hand, he shouted, almost addressing the rabble :

“Judge him with your judgment! I give him to you ! ”

The throng was silent and only pressed closer and closer against each other. It became unbearable to support each other, to breathe in that pestiferous air, to miss the power of motion, and to wait for something unknown, incomprehensible, and terrible. The men who were standing in the front rows and who saw and heard everything which was taking place before them, all with frightened and wide-open eyes and gaping mouths, straining their last strength, were stemming with their backs the pressure from behind.

” Strike him ! — Let the traitor perish and not disgrace the name of a Russian ! ” shouted Rostopchfn. ” Beat him ! I command it ! ”

Hearing, not Rostopchm’s words, but his furious sounds, the crowd groaned and moved forward, but again stopped.

” Count ! ” muttered Vereshchagin, in a timid and at the same time theatrical voice, during a moment of silence, which had ensued. “ Count, God alone is above us — ” said Vereshchagin, raising his head, and again the thick vein on his thin neck was filled with blood, and the colour rapidly flushed and left his face. He did not finish what he intended to say.

” Strike him ! I command it ! ” shrieked Rostopchln, suddenly growing as pale as Vereshchdgin.

” Unsheath your sabres ! ” the officer called out to the dragoons, himself taking out his sword.

Another, stronger wave surged through the crowd and, rushing up to the first rows, this wave dislodged the men in front and carried them tottering to the very steps of the porch. The tall lad, with a petrified expression on his face and with arrested raised arm, stood beside Vereshchagin.

” Strike him ! ” the officer almost whispered to the dragoons, and one of the soldiers, with a face disfigured by rage, suddenly struck Vereshchdgin on the head with the dull side of the sabre.

” Ah ! ” Vereshchagin gave a short, surprised shriek, looking around in fright, as though he did not understand why this was being done to him. The same groan of amazement and terror ran through the crowd. ” 0 Lord ! ” was heard some one’s sad exclamation.

But immediately after the exclamation of surprise which had escaped him, Vereshchdgin gave a pitiful cry of pain, and this cry was his ruin. The barrier of humane feeling, which, strained to the highest degree, was holding back the crowd broke instantaneously. The crime was begun, it was necessary to finish it. The pitiful groan of rebuke was drowned by a stormy, furious roar from the rabble. Like the last, the seventh wall which breaks the ships, this last, irrepressible wave surged from the rear, was borne to the front, knocked them down, and swallowed everything. The dragoon who had given the blow wanted to repeat his act. Vereshchdgin, with a cry of terror, shielding himself with his hands, rushed up to the throng. The tall lad, against whom he had run, clutched Vereshchdgin’s thin neck with his hands, and, with a savage yell, fell with him under the feet of the crushing, tearing throng.

Some struck and tugged at Vereshchdgin, while others struck at the tall lad. The cries of the crushed men and of those who tried to save the tall lad only roused the fury of the mass. The dragoons had a hard time freeing the bloodstained factory hand, who was half-beaten to death. And, in spite of all the feverish haste with which the crowd tried to accomplish the work when it had once been begun, those who beat, choked, and tore Vereshchdgin were for a long time unable to kill him ; they had him in the middle, but the throng pressing upon them on all sides and like one mass swaying from side to side, made it impossible for them either to kill, or to give him up.

“ Why don’t you strike him with an axe ? He is killed. — Traitor, you have betrayed Christ ! — He is alive — very much alive — Serves a thief right. Strike him with a rail ! — Is he still alive ? ”

Only when the victim stopped struggling and his cries gave way to an even, long-drawn snoring, the crowd hurriedly moved away from the prostrate, gory corpse. Each walked up, looked at what had been done, and in terror, reproach, and surprise moved back again.

” 0 Lord, what a beast the people are ! How can any •one be left alive ! ” were heard expressions in the crowd. “ He is a young lad — no doubt, from the merchant class ! What people ! — They say it was not he — How not he ? — 0 Lord ! — They have beaten another, and they say he is barely alive ! — Oh, what people ! — Who is not afraid of the sin ? ” — now spoke the same people, looking with an expression of pain and pity at the dead body with the livid, bloodstained and dust-covered face and with the hacked, long, thin neck.

An officious police officer, finding the presence of a corpse in the yard of his Serenity improper, ordered the dragoons to take the body into the streets. Two soldiers took hold of the disfigured legs and dragged the body away. The bloodstained, dust-grimed, lifeless, shaven head on the long neck turned from side to side as it was drawn along the ground. The people withdrew from the corpse.

Just as Vereshchagin fell and the crowd with a savage roar pressed and swayed about him, Rostopchin suddenly grew pale and, instead of going to the back porch, where his horses were waiting for him, he, without knowing whither, nor wherefore, hanging his head, walked with rapid steps through the corridor which led to the rooms of the lower story. The count’s face was pale, and he could not stop the motion of his nether jaw, which was shaking as though in a fever.

“Your Serenity, this way — whither do you wish to go? This way, if you please,” said behind him a trembling, frightened voice.

Count Rostopchin was not able to make any reply and, submissively turning back, went in the direction pointed out to him. His carriage was standing at the back porch. The distant din of the roaring crowd could be heard even there. Count Rostopchm hurriedly seated himself in the carriage and ordered the coachman to drive him to his suburban house in Sokélniki. When the count reached Myasmtskaya Street and no longer heard the cries of the crowd, he began to repent. He recalled with dissatisfaction the agitation and fright which he had evinced in the presence of his subordinates.

“La populace est terrible, elle est hideuse,” he thought in French. ” Ils sont comme les loups qu’on ne peut apaiser qu’avec de la chair.” ” Count, God only is above us ! ” he suddenly thought of Vereshchagin’s words, and a disagreeable chill ran down the back of Count Rostopchm. But this feeling was only momentary, and he contemptuously smiled at himself. “J’avais d’autres devoirs,” he thought. ” Il fallait apaiser le peuple. Bien d’autres victimes ont péri et périssent pour le bien public,” and he began to think of those general duties which he had toward his family, toward his capital, which was entrusted to him, and toward himself, not as Fédor Vasilevich Rostopchin (he thought that Fédor Vasilevich Rostopchm was sacrificing himself for the bien public), but as the commanderin-chief, the representative of power and the plenipotentiary of the Tsar. “If I were only Fédor Vasilevich, ma ligne de conduite aurait été tout autrement tracée, but I had to preserve the life and dignity of the commanderin-chief.”

Swaying lightly on the soft springs of the carriage, and no longer hearing the terrible sounds of the rabble, Rostopchin physically calmed down, and, as is usually the case, simultaneously with the physical tranquillity, reason found for him causes for moral tranquillity as well. The thought which put Rostopchin at his ease was not a new one. Ever since the world has existed and men have been killing each other, a man has never committed a crime against his like without finding consolation in the same thought. This thought is le bien public, the assumed good of other men.

A man who is not carried away by passions never knows this good ; but a man who commits a crime always knows to a certainty wherein it consists. Rostopchin, too, knew it.

In his reflections he not only did not rebuke himself for the act which he had committed, but even found causes for self-congratulation for having so successfully made use of the occasion, — of punishing a criminal and at the same time assuaging the crowd.

“ Vereshchagin was under trial and condemned to death,” thought Rostopchin (though the Senate had condemned Vereshchagin only to hard labour). “He was a traitor ; I could not let him go unpunished, and, then, je faisais d’une pierre deux coups ; I gave the populace a victim to assuage them, and I punished a criminal.”

After arriving at his suburban house and attending to the business of the home, he was entirely set at ease. Half an hour later the count drove with fast horses over the Sokolniki field, no longer thinking of what had been, but only of what would be. He now was driving to the Yauza Bridge, where he was told Kutuzov was. Count Rostopclnn was preparing in his imagination those angry and sarcastic reproaches, which he meant to utter to Kutuzov because of his deception. He would let that old fox of a courtier know that the responsibility for all the misfortunes arising from the evacuation of the capital, from the ruin of Russia (as Rostopchin thought), would rest on his doting old head alone. In thinking over what he would tell him Rostopchin angrily tossed in his carriage and looked on either side.

The field of Sokdlniki was deserted. Only at the end of it, near the charitable institution and the insane asylum, could be seen small groups of men in white attire and a few separate people, similarly dressed, who were walking over the field, shouting and waving their hands. One of them ran across the path of the carriage of Count Rostopchm. He himself, and his coachman, and the dragoons, — all looked, with a dim feeling of terror and curiosity, at these insane people who had been set free, and especially at the one who had run up to them.

Tottering on his long, thin legs, in Ids fluttering cloak, this crazy man kept running headlong, without taking his eyes off Rostopclnn, shouting to him in a hoarse voice, and making signs to him to stop. His gloomy, solemn face, overgrown with uneven tufts of beard, was pale and sallow. His black, agate pupils flitted low and agitatedly over the saffron-yellow whites of his eyes.

” Stop ! Stop, I say ! ” he shouted, piercingly, and again called out something out of breath, with impressive intonations and gestures.

He came abreast with the carriage and ran along with it. “Thrice they have slain me, and thrice have I risen from the dead. They have stoned me, and crucified me — I shall rise from the dead — I shall rise from the dead — I shall rise from the dead. They have racked my body. The kingdom of God will be destroyed — Thrice will I destroy it, and thrice will I build it up,” he shouted, raising his voice more and more.

Count Rostopchin suddenly paled, as he had paled when the crowd had cast itself upon Vereshchdgin. He turned away.

” Go ! Go fast ! ” he shouted at the coachman in a trembling voice. The carriage flew as fast as the horses could run ; but Count Rostopchin could for a long time hoar behind him the receding, senseless, desperate cry, and see before his eyes the amazed and frightened, bloody face of the traitor in the fox fur coat.

However fresh this recollection, Rostopchin felt now that it had impressed itself deeply, to the blood, in his heart. He felt clearly that the bloody trace of tills memory would never heal, and that, on the contrary, the more time went on, the more cruelly and tormentingly this terrible recollection would live in his heart. He thought he heard the sound of his own words : ” Strike him ! You will answer for it to me with your heads ! ” ” Why did I say these words ? I said them by accident. I might have refrained from saying them,” he thought. “Then there would be nothing.” He saw the frightened and then ferocious face of the striking dragoon, and the look of taciturn, timid rebuke which that boy in the fox fur coat cast at him.

“ But I did not do it for my own sake. I had to act so. La plebe, le traître — le bien public,” he thought.

The troops were still crowding at the Yauza Bridge. It was hot. Kutuzov, frowning, gloomy, was sitting on a bench near the bridge and playing in the sand with his whip, when a carriage noisily drove up to him. A man in the uniform of a general, in a hat with a panache, with fleeting, half-angry, half-frightened eyes, walked over to Kutuzov and began to speak with him in French. This was Count Rostopchm. He told Kutuzov that he had come to see him, because there was no longer a Moscow and a capital, but only an army.

” It would have been different if your Serenity had not told me that Moscow would not be surrendered without a battle : there would be nothing of this ! ” he said.

Kutuzov gazed at Rostopchin and, as though not comprehending the meaning of the words addressed to him, was making a great effort to read something especial in the face of the man who was speaking to him. Rostop-chni became embarrassed and grew silent. Kutuzov slightly shook his head and, without taking his inquisitive look off Rostopchm’s countenance, said, softly :

“ Yes, I will not give up Moscow without a battle.”

Kutuzov was either thinking of something quite different as he said these words, or else he uttered them on purpose, fully aware of their meaninglessness ; in any case, Rostopchin made no reply and hurriedly walked away from Kutuzov. And a strange thing happened! The commanderin-chief of Moscow, proud Count Rostopchin, took a Cossack whip into his hands, walked over to the bridge, and, shouting, began to drive away the crowding carts.

XXVI.

At about four o’clock in the afternoon the troops of Murat began to enter Moscow. In front rode a detachment of Wiirtemberg hussars ; in the rear, on horseback, and surrounded by a large suite, came the King of Naples himself.

Near the middle of the Arbät, in the neighbourhood of the Church of St. Nicholas the Manifested, Murat stopped, awaiting news from the detachment in the van as to the condition of the city fortress, ” le Kremlin.”

About Murat there was gathered a small group of men from among those inhabitants who were left in Moscow. They looked with timid surprise at the strange, longhaired chief, adorned with feathers and gold.

” Well, is this their Tsar ? He is all right ! ” were heard their soft voices.

An interpreter rode up to the group of men.

” Take off your hats — your hats — ” they said in the crowd, turning to each other. The interpreter turned to an old janitor, and asked him how far it was to the Kremlin. The janitor, listening in perplexity to the strange Polish accent and not recognizing the sounds of his speech as belonging to the Russian language, did not understand what the interpreter was saying to him, and hid himself behind the rest.

Murat moved up toward the interpreter and ordered him to ask them where the Russian troops were. One of the Russians understood what he was asked, and several voices began to answer the interpreter. A French officer from the detachment of the van rode up to Murat and reported that the gates of the fort were locked, and that there was, no doubt, an ambush there.

“ All right,” said Murat, and, turning to one of the gentlemen of his suite, ordered him to move out four pieces of light ordnance and to fire at the gate.

The artillery trotted out from behind the column, which followed Murat, and drove down the Arbat. Having descended to the end of the Vzdvizhenka, the artillery stopped and drew up in the square. Several French officers took charge of the cannon, placing them in position and looking at the Kremlin through a field-glass.

In the Kremlin was heard the ringing of bells calling to vesper service, and this sound disconcerted the French. They supposed that it was a call to arms. Several footsoldiers ran up to the Kutdfev gate. There lay logs and wooden shields. Two muskets were fired from the direction of the gate, the moment an officer started to run toward it with his command. A general, who was standing near the cannon, shouted a command to the officer, and the officer and his soldiers ran back again.

Three more shots were fired from the gate. One shot hit the leg of a French soldier, and there was heard a strange cry from a few voices back of the shields. On the faces of the French general, the officers, and the soldiers the former expression of merriment and calm simultaneously, as though by command, gave way to a stubborn, concentrated expression of readiness for a fight and for suffering. For all of them, beginning with the marshal and ending with the last soldier, this place was not the Vzdvizhenka, the Mokhoväya, the Kutdfev, and Trinity Gates, but a new locality of a new field, no doubt, of a sanguinary battle. All prepared themselves for this battle. The cries at the gate died down. The ordnance was moved out. The artillerists fanned the burning linstocks. An officer commanded, ” Feu ! ” and two whistling sounds of canisters resounded one after the other. The grape-shot rattled over the stones of the gate, over the logs and shields, and two columns of smoke quivered in the square.

A few minutes after the peals of the discharges had died down in the stone Kremlin, a strange sound was heard over the heads of the French. An immense fiock of jackdaws rose over the walls and, cawing and whirring their thousands of wings, began to circle in the air. At the same time there was heard a solitary human cry in the gateway, and from behind the smoke emerged the figure of a man without a cap and in a caftan. He held his gun and aimed at the French. “Feu!” repeated the officer of artillery, and at exactly the same time were heard one musket-shot and two cannon-shots. The smoke again concealed the gate.

Nothing was now moving behind the shields, and the French soldiers and officers of infantry walked up to the gate. In the gate lay three wounded and four killed. Two men in caftans were running at the foot of the hill, along the walls, toward the Znämenka.

“ Enlcvcz-moi ça ! ” said an officer, pointing to the logs and corpses, and the French, killing the wounded, threw the corpses down over the enclosure. No one knew who these men were. ” Enlcvcz-moi ça ! ” was all there was said about them, and they were thrown away and later picked up, to keep them from infesting the air. Thiers only devoted a few eloquent words to their memory : ” Ces misérables avaient envahi la citadelle sacrée, s’étaient emparés des fusils de l’arsenal, et tiraient (ces misérables) sur les Français. On en sabra quelques uns et on purgea le Kremlin de leur présence.”

Murat was informed that the way was clear. The French entered through the gate and began to encamp on Senate Square. Soldiers threw out chairs from the windows of the Senate building on the square, and fires were lighted.

Other detachments crossed the Kremlin and encamped on the Moroséyka, Lubyânka, and Pokrovka. Others again were located on the Vzdvizhenka, Znâmenka, Nikolskaya, and Tverskaya Streets. Not finding anywhere any persons in their houses, the French located themselves not in quarters, as in a city, but as in a camp which is pitched in a city.

Though ragged, hungry, exhausted, and diminished to one-half of their former numbers, the French soldiers entered Moscow still in good order. This was an exhausted, emaciated, but still threatening and effective army ; but they formed an army only so long as the soldiers did not take up quarters. The moment the men of the regiments began to scatter in the empty and wealthy houses, the army was for ever disbanded, and they formed neither inhabitants nor soldiers, but something intermediate, called marauders. When, five weeks later, the same men left Moscow, they no longer formed an army. They were a crowd of marauders, each of whom carried along with him a mass of things which seemed costly and necessary to him. The aim of each of them, upon leaving Moscow, did not consist, as before, in conquering, but only in retaining what had been acquired. Like the monkey, which, putting its hand through a narrow neck of a pitcher and taking hold of a pile of nuts, does not open its fist, for fear of losing its booty, and thus perishes, the French, upon leaving Moscow, had apparently to perish because they were dragging along with them a mass of plundered things, and it was as impossible for them to give up their plunder as for the monkey to let go of the nuts. Ten minutes after any French regiment reached a given ward of Moscow, not an officer or soldier was left. In the windows of the houses could be seen men in mantles and gaiters, laughing as they walked through the rooms ; in the cellars and basements the same kind of people took possession of provisions; in the yards they opened and broke off the doors of sheds and stables ; in the kitchens, rolling up their sleeves, they made fires, baked, kneaded, and cooked, and frightened, amused, and caressed the women and the children. These men were everywhere, — in the shops and in the houses ; but of the army there was none.

On that day order after order was promulgated by the French chiefs, in which the troops were prohibited from scattering over the city, no violence was to be offered to the inhabitants, and no marauding permitted, and in the evening there was to be a general roll-call ; but, in spite of all the measures, the men who formerly made up an army spread over the opulent, deserted city, rich in comforts and supplies. Just as a hungry ilock goes in a mass over a barren field, but immediately disbands without restraint as soon as it strikes rich pasturage, so the army disbanded without restraint in the wealthy city.

There were no inhabitants in Moscow, and the soldiers percolated through it, like water through sand, and oozed out without hindrance, and radiated from the Kremlin, which they entered first. Cavalrymen, going into a merchant house, which was abandoned with all its possessions, and finding there stalls not only for their horses, but also many to spare, none the less went to occupy the neighbouring house, which seemed to them to be better. Many occupied several houses at a time, wrote upon them with chalk the names of the new occupants, and quarrelled and even fought for them with the other commands. Before they had time to settle down, the soldiers ran out into the streets, to look at the city, and, hearing that everything had been abandoned, rushed to the place where they could pick up costly things for nothing. The chiefs went forth to stop the soldiers, and involuntarily were drawn into committing the same acts. In the Carriage Row the carriage shops were left, and the generals assembled there, to pick out carriages for themselves. Such inhabitants as were left invited the chiefs to their houses, hoping thus to secure themselves against being looted. There was no end to the wealth, and no end of it could be seen ; everywhere about the places which the French occupied there were still left untried, unexamined places where, so the French thought, there ought to be still greater riches. And Moscow sucked them in more and more. Just as when water is poured on dry dirt, both the water and the dirt disappear ; so, as the result of the fact that a hungry army entered an opulent, deserted city, there came the destruction of the army and the destruction of the opulent city ; and there was dirt, and conflagrations, and marauding.

The French ascribed the conflagration of Moscow “ au patriotisme féroce de Rostopchine ; ” the Russians, to the savagery of the French. In reality, there were no causes, and there could be none, for the conflagration of Moscow, in the sense of referring this conflagration to the responsibility of one or several persons. Moscow was burnt because it was placed under conditions under which any city built of wood must be consumed, independently of any question whether it possesses 130 wretched hose brigades, or not. Moscow was doomed to destruction, because the inhabitants had left it, and just as inevitably as a heap of shavings must catch on fire, if for several days in succession sparks fall upon it. A city of wood, in which, with the presence of the proprietors and the police, there are fires nearly every day, cannot help being consumed when there are no inhabitants in it, and there are only the troops, smoking pipes, making camp-fires on Senate Square with the chairs of the Senate, and cooking their victuals twice a day. An army need only take up quarters in the villages of a certain locality, even though in times of peace, and the number of the fires is at once increased in that locality. To what extent, then, will the chance of fires increase in an abandoned wooden city in which a foreign army is quartered ? Le patriotisme féroce de Rostopchinc and the savagery of the French have nothing whatever to do with it. Moscow caught fire from the pipes, the kitchens, the camp-fires, from the recklessness of the hostile soldiers and the inhabitants, who were not the owners of any houses. If there was arson (which is very doubtful, because no one had any special reason to set houses ou fire, whereas in any case it was troublesome and perilous), the cases of arson cannot be assumed as the causes, because without them the same would have taken place.

No matter how pleasing it was for the French to accuse Rostopchfn of ferocity, and for the Russians to accuse the malefactor Napoleon, or later to place the heroic torch into the hands of the nation, one cannot help seeing that there could have been no such immediate cause of the fire, because Moscow had to be consumed, just as every village, every factory, every house must burn, if the proprietors leave it and strange people are permitted to make themselves at home in it and to cook their meals there. Moscow was burnt by the inhabitants, that is true ; but not by the inhabitants who were left in it, but by those who had deserted it. The reason that Moscow, occupied by the enemy, was not left intact, like Berlin, Vienna, and other cities, was merely because its inhabitants did not offer the French bread and salt, and the keys of the city, but had abandoned it.

XXVII.

The star-shaped percolation of the French through Moscow did not reach the quarter in which Pierre was now living until the evening of September 2d.

After the last two days, spent in solitude and in such a strange manner, Pierre was in a state that bordered on insanity. One fixed idea took possession of his whole being. He did not know himself how and when, but this thought had such a hold on him, that he did not remember anything of the past, nor understand anything of the present; and everything he saw and heard took place before him as in a dream.

Pierre had left his house only in order to be freed from the complex labyrinth of the demands of life, which had taken possession of him, and which he, in the condition in which he then was, had been unable to unravel. He had gone to the quarters of Ösip Aleksyéevich under the pretext of examining the books and papers of the deceased only because he was trying to find rest from the tribulations of life, and because with the memory of Ösip Aleksyéevich there was connected in his soul a world of eternal, calm, and solemn ideas, quite opposed to that troublesome tangle into which he felt himself drawn. He was looking for a quiet retreat, and actually found it in the cabinet of Ösip Aleksyéevich. When, in the dead silence of the cabinet, he sat down leaning on his arms at the dust-covered writing-desk of the deceased, there arose calmly and significantly, one after another, his recollections of the past few days, especially of the battle

whole of Europe, which, in Pierre’s opinion, was due to Napoleon alone.

Pierre knew all the details of the attempt of the German student on the life of Bonaparte in Vienna in 1809, and he knew that that student had been shot. And ^he peril to which he subjected his life in the accomplishment of his intention incited him only more.

Two equally strong sentiments invincibly attracted Pierre to his intention. The first was the necessity of sacrifice and suffering in connection with the consciousness of the common calamity, — that feeling, in consequence of which he had gone on the 25th to Mozhaysk and had ridden into the very thickest of the battle, then had run away from his house, and, instead of his habitual luxury and comforts of life, had slept without undressing on a hard sofa and had eaten the same food as Gerdsim. The other was that indefinite, exclusively Russian feeling of contempt for everything conventional, artificial, human, for all that which by the majority of men is regarded as the greatest good in the world. For the first time, Pierre had experienced this strange and alluring sensation in the Slobodski Palace, when he felt that wealth, and power, and life, all that people build up and preserve with such care, — that if all that was worth anything, it was so only from the pleasure with which one could give it up.

It was that feeling, on account of which a volunteer recruit spends his last kopek in drink, and a carousing man breaks all the windows and glasses without any visible cause, knowing full well that this will take away his last money, — that feeling on account of which a man, committing a senselessly base act, seems to be testing his personal power and strength, invoking the presence of a higher tribunal of life, which stands outside human conditions.

Ever since the day when Pierre for the first time had experienced this feeling in the Slobodski Palace, he constantly was under its influence, but only now found its full gratification. Besides, at the present moment, Pierre was sustained in his intention and deprived of the possibility of renouncing it by what he had already done in that direction. His flight from his house, liis caftan, the pistol, his declaration to the Rostdvs that he would remain in Moscow, — everything would not only lose its meaning, but would also be contemptible and ridiculous (about that Pierre was sensitive), if, after all that, he left Moscow like the rest.

Pierre’s physical condition, as is generally the case, coincided with the moral. The unaccustomed coarse food, the vddka which he drank during those days, the absence of wine and cigars, the dirty, unchanged underwear, the two half-sleepless nights, passed on a short sofa without bedding,— all this kept Pierre in a state of irritation approaching insanity.

It was now two o’clock in the afternoon. The French had entered Moscow. Pierre knew it, but, instead of acting, he thought only of his undertaking, reflecting on all its minutest future details. In his reveries, Pierre did not form a vivid conception of either the process of striking itself, or of the death of Napoleon, but with unusual clearness and with melancholy pleasure presented to himself his ruin and his heroic valour.

” Yes, I must accomplish it, once for all, or perish ! ” he thought. « Yes, I will go — ” and then suddenly — ” With a pistol or with a dagger ? ” thought Pierre. ” What difference does it make ? Not I, but the hand of Providence is executing you — I will say,” Pierre thought of the words which he would utter while killing Napoleon. “Very well, take me and kill me,” Pierre continued to speak to himself, with a sad, but firm expression on his face, and with drooping head.

Just as Pierre, standing in the middle of the room, was reflecting in this manner, the door of the cabinet opened, and at the threshold appeared the totally changed figure of the formerly timid Makar Aleksyéevich.

His morninggown was wide open. His face was red and homely. Evidently he was drunk. Upon seeing Pierre, he was confused during the first moment, but, noticing the embarrassment on Pierre’s face, he became bolder, and with his tottering, thin legs walked out to the middle of the room.

” They became frightened — ” he said, in a hoarse, confidential voice. ” I said, ‘ I will not surrender ‘ — am I right, sir ? ” He mused and, suddenly, seeing the pistol on the table, he grasped it and ran out into the corridor.

Gerdsim and the janitor, who followed after Makar Aleksyéevich, stopped him in the vestibule and tried to get the pistol away from him. Pierre went out into the corridor and looked with pity and repulsion at the halfdemented old man. Makdr Aleksyéevich, frowning from the effort, was still keeping hold the pistol and crying in a hoarse voice, evidently imagining something solemn.

” To arms ! Board the ships ! You lie, you will not take it away from me ! ” he yelled.

” Stop it, truly, you must stop it ! Please let it go. I beg you, sir — ” said Gerdsim, cautiously attempting to turn Makdr Aleksyéevich by the elbows toward the door.

“Who are you? Bonaparte!” shouted Makdr Aleksyéevich.

” That is not nice, sir. Please to go to your room and rest yourself. Let me have the pistol ! “

” Away, despised slave! Do not touch me! Did you see?” cried Makdr Aleksyéevich, shaking the pistol. ” Board the ships! ”

“ Take hold of him !” Gerdsim whispered to the janitor.

Makdr Aleksyéevich was seized by his arms and dragged to the door. The vestibule was filled with the discordant noises of the struggle and with the drunken, snoring sounds of the gasping voice. ‘

Suddenly a new, piercing, feminine cry was heard on the porch, and the cook ran out into the vestibule.

“ It is they ! 0 Lord ! — Upon my word, they ! Four of them, on horseback ! ” she cried.

Gerdsim and the janitor let Makdr Aleksyéevich go, and in the quieted corridor could clearly be heard the taps of several hands against the entrance door.

xxvni.

Pierre, who had made up his miud that previous to the execution of his intention he ought not to reveal his calling, nor his knowledge of the French language, stood in the half-open door of the corridor, intending to hide himself as soon as the Frenchmen appeared. But the Frenchmen entered, and Pierre did not go away from the door: he was held by an invincible curiosity.

There were two of them. One an officer, a tall, stately, and handsome man, the other, apparently a soldier or orderly, of low stature, a lean, sunburnt man with sunken cheeks and a dull expression on his face. Having taken a few steps, the officer, as though deciding that this would be good quarters, stopped, turned back to the soldiers who were standing at the door, and in a loud, commanding voice told them to take in the horses. Having done this, the officer with a dashing gesture, raising the elbow high, fixed his moustache and touched his hat.

” Bonjour la compagnie ! ” he said, merrily, smiling, and looking about him.

No one said anything.

” Vous êtes le bourgeois ? ” the officer turned to Gerasim.

Gerasim looked in a frightened and inquiring way at the officer.

” Quartire, guartire, logement,” said the officer, superciliously, with a condescending and good-natured smile, looking at the little man. “ Les Français sont de bons enfants. Que diable ! Voyons ! Ne nous fâchons pas, mon vieux,” he added, patting the frightened and taciturn Gerasim on the shoulder.

” A ça ! Dites donc, on ne parle donc pas français dans cette boutique ? ” he added, looking around and meeting Pierre’s glance.

Pierre moved back toward the door.

The officer again turned to Gerasim. He wanted Gerasim to show him the rooms of the house.

“ Master gone — me no understand — mine, yours — ” said Gerdsim, imagining that he was making himself more intelligible by contorting the words.

The French officer, smiling, waved his hands before Gerdsim’s face, to let him know that he, too, did not understand him, and, limping, walked toward the door where Pierre stood. Pierre was on the point of going away, in order to conceal himself, but just then he noticed Makdr Aleksyéevich coming out of the kitchen door, with the pistol in his hands. With the cunning of an insane man, Makér Aleksyéevich examined the Frenchman and, raising the pistol, aimed at him.

” Board the ships ! ” shouted the drunken man, pressing the trigger. The French officer turned around at the cry, and at the same moment Pierre threw himself on the drunken man. Just as Pierre grasped and raised the pistol, Makdr Aleksyéevich at last got his finger on the trigger, and there resounded a deafening report, covering all with smoke. The Frenchman grew pale and ran back toward the door.

Forgetting his intention not to disclose his knowledge of French, Pierre, having pulled the pistol away and thrown it down, ran up to the officer and spoke to him in French.

” Vous n’etes pas blessé ? “

” Je crois que non,” replied the officer, touching himself, “ mais je l’ai manqué belle cette fois-ci,” he added, pointing to the broken plaster on the wall. ” Quel est cet homme ? ” said the officer, looking sternly at Pierre.

” Ah, je suis vraiment au désespoir de ce qui vient d’arriver ,” Pierre said, rapidly, entirely forgetful of his rôle» “ C’est un fou, un malheureux qui ne savait pas ce qu’il faisait.”

The officer went up to Makar Aleksyéevich and grabbed him by the collar.

Makar Aleksyéevich, opening his mouth, as though falling asleep, staggered, leaning against the wall.

” Brigand, tu me la payeras ! ” said the Frenchman, taking his hand away. ” Nous autres, nous sommes cléments après la victoire; mais nous ne pardonnons pas aux traîtres,” he added, with gloomy solemnity on his face, and with a beautiful, energetic gesture.

Pierre continued to persuade the officer in French that he should not punish this drunken, senseless man. The Frenchman listened to him in silence, without changing his sad expression, and suddenly turned to Pierre, with a smile. He glanced at him in silence for several seconds. His handsome face assumed a tragically gentle expression, and he extended his hand.

” Vous m’avez sauvé la vie ! Vous êtes Françaishe said.

For the Frenchman this deduction was incontestable. Only a Frenchman was capable of performing a great act, and the salvation of M. Ramball, capitaine du 13-me léger, was no doubt a great act.

But, no matter how indubitable this conclusion was and the officer’s conviction, which was based on it, Pierre regarded it as necessary to disenchant him.

” Je suis Russe,” Pierre said, rapidly.

” Ti-tv-ti, à d’autres” the Frenchman said, waving his finger before his nose and smiling. ” Tout à l’heure vous allez me conter tout ça” he said. ” Charmé de rencontrer un compatriote. Eh bien ! Qu’ allons-nous faire de cet homme î” he added, turning to Pierre, as to a brother. Even if Pierre had not been a Frenchman, he, having received this highest appellation in the world, could not renounce it, was what the expression and tone of the French officer seemed to say.

In reply to the last question, Pierre once more explained who Makär Aleksyéevich was, and how, immediately before the arrival of the French, this drunken, senseless man had abstracted the loaded pistol, which they had had no time to take away from him. At the same time he begged the officer to let the deed go unpunished.

The Frenchman arched his chest and made a royal gesture with his hand.

” Vous m’avez sauvé la vie ! Vous êtes Français. Vous me demandez sa grâce ? Je vous l’accorde. Qu’on emmène cet homme” swiftly and energetically said the French officer, taking the arm of Pierre, now promoted to the rank of Frenchman for having saved his life, and going with him into the house.

The soldiers, who were in the yard, having heard the shot, entered the vestibule, asking what had happened, and expressing their readiness to punish the guilty ; but the officer stopped them with a stern look :

” On vous demandera quand on aura besoin de vous” he said.

The soldiers went out. The orderly, who in the meantime had looked around in the kitchen, went up to the officer :

” Capitaine, ils ont de la soupe et du gigot de mouton dans la cuisine,” he said. “ Faut-il vous l’apporter ? “

” Oui, et le vin,” replied the captain.

XXIX.

When the French officer entered the house with Pierre, the latter considered it his duty again to assure the captain that he was not a Frenchman, and wanted to leave, but the French officer did not even wish to hear of Ins going. He was so polite, amiable, good-natured, and sincerely grateful for his salvation, that Pierre did not have heart to refuse him, and sat down with him in the parlour, the first room which they entered. In reply to Pierre’s assurance that he was not a Frenchman, the captain, who evidently could not comprehend how one could refuse such a flattering distinction, shrugged Ins shoulders and said that if Pierre by all means insisted on passing for a Russian he should do so, but that he himself, none the less, was for ever united to Pierre by a sentiment of gratitude for Pierre’s having saved his life.

If this man had been endowed with the slightest ability of comprehending the sentiments of others and could have guessed Pierre’s feelings, Pierre would have left him ; but his animated dulness and lack of penetration in matters not strictly connected with himself conquered Pierre.

” Français ou prince russe incognito” said the Frenchman, looking at Pierre’s fine, though soiled shirt and at the ring on his finger. ” Je vous dois la vie et je vous offre mon amitié. Un Français n’oublie jamais ni une insulte, ni un service. Je vous offre mon amitié. Je ne vous dis que ça.”

In the sound of his voice, in the expression of his face, in his gestures, there was so much good nature and nobility (in the French sense) that Pierre, replying with an unconscious smile to the smile of the Frenchman, pressed the extended hand.

“ Capitaine Famball du 13-me léger, dccoré pour l’affaire du Sept” he introduced himself with a self-satisfied, irrepressible smile, which made his lips curl beneath his moustache. ” Voudrez-vous bien me dire à présent à qui j’ai l’honneur de parler aussi agréablement au lieu de rester à l’ambulance avec la balle de ce fou dans le corps ? “

Pierre replied that he could not give him his name and, blushing, was trying to invent a name and to give him the reasons for not being able to tell it to him, but the Frenchman interrupted him:

” De grâce? he said. “ Je comprends vos raisons. Vous êtes officier — officier supérieur, peut-être. Vous avez porté les armes contre nous. Ce n’est pas mon affaire. Je voies dois la vie. Cela me suffit. Je suis tout à vous. Vous êtes gentilhomme!” he added, with a shade of interrogation. Pierre inclined his head. ” Votre nom de baptême, s’il vous plait ? Je ne demande pas davantage. M. Pierre, dites vous— Parfait. C’est tout ce que je désire savoir.”

When they brought the mutton, the omelet, the samovar, the vddka, and the wine from a Russian wine-cellar, which the French had brought with them, Ramball asked Pierre to take part in the dinner, and at once eagerly and rapidly, like a healthy and hungry man, began to eat, chewing fast with his strong teeth, smacking his lips all the time, and saying, ” Excellent, exquis ! ” His face grew red and was covered with perspiration. Pierre was hungry and partook of the dinner. Morel, the orderly, brought a deep saucepan with hot water and placed in it a bottle of red wine. He brought, besides, a bottle of kvas, which he had taken from the kitchen for a trial. This drink was already familiar to the French and had received a name. They called the kvas ” limonade de cochon,” and Morel praised this limonade de cochon which he had found in the kitchen. But, as the captain had some wine, which he had procured while crossing Moscow, he left the kvas to Morel and himself took up the bottle of Bordeaux. He wrapped the bottle up to the neck in a napkin and poured out a glass for himself and for Pierre. The satisfying of his hunger and the drinking of the wine animated the captain still more, and he talked unceasingly during the dinner.

“ Oui, mon cher, M. Pierre, je voies dois une fière chandelle de m’avoir sauvé — de cet enragé— J’en ai assez, voyez-vous, de balles dans ce corps. En voilà une” (he pointed to his side) à Wagram, et de deux à Smolensk,” he pointed to a scar on his cheek. ” Et cette jambe, comme vous voyez, que ne veut pas marcher. C’est à la grande bataille du 7 à la Moskowa que j’ai reçu ça. Sacré Dieu, c’était beau ! Il fallait voir ça, c’était un deluge de feu. Vous nous avez taillé une rude besogne ; vous pouvez vous en vanter, nom d’un petit bonhomme. Et, ma parole, malgré l’atout, que j’y ai gagné, je serais prêt à recommencer. Je plains ceux qui n’ont pas vu ça.”

“ J’y ai été’,’ said Pierre.

“Bah, vraiment ! Eh bien, tant mieux” said the Frenchman. ” Vous êtes de fiers ennemis, tout de même. La grande redoute a été tenace, nom d’une pipe. Et vous nous l’avez fait crânement payer. J’y suis allé trois fois tel que vous me voyez. Trois fois nous étions sur les canons et trois fois on nous a culbutés et comme des capucins de cartes. Oh ! c était beau, M. Pierre. Vos grenadiers ont etc superbes, tonnerre de Dieu. Je les ai vus six fois de suite serrer les rangs, et marcher comme à une revue. Les beaux hommes ! Notre roi de Naples qui s’y connaît, a crié, ‘ Bravo ! —— Ah ! ah ! Soldats comme nous autres ! ” he said, smiling, after a moment’s silence. “ Tant mieux, tant mieux, M. Pierre. Terribles en bataille —galants — ” he winked, with a smile, “ avec les belles, voilà les Français, M. Pierre, n’est-ce pas ? “

The captain was so naively and good-naturedly merry, and frank, and satisfied with himself, that Pierre came very near winking himself, as he merrily looked at him. Apparently the word ” galant ” made the captain think of the condition of Moscow.

” A propos, dites donc, cst-cc vrai que toutes les femmes ont quitté Moscou ? Une drôle d’idée ! Qu’avaient-elles à craindre ? “

“ Est-ce que les dames françaises ne quitteraient pas Paris, si les Busses y entraient ? ” asked Pierre.

“Ah, ah, ah!” the Frenchman laughed a merry, sanguine laugh, tapping Pierre on his shoulder. ” Ah ! elle est forte celle-là,” he said. ” Paris ? Mais Paris, Paris — “

” Paris, la capitale du monde,” said Pierre, finishing his sentence.

The captain looked at Pierre. He had a habit of stopping in the middle of his conversation and gazing fixedly with his laughing, kindly eyes.

” Eh bien, si vous ne m’aviez pas dit que vous êtes Russe, j’aurais parié que vous êtes Parisien. Vous avez ce je ne sais qxtoi, ce — ” and, having said this compliment, he again looked at him in silence.

“ J’ai été à Paris, j’y ai passé des années,” said Pierre.

” Oh ! ça se voit bien. Paris ! — Un homme qui ne connaît pas Paris est un sauvage. Un Parisien, ça se sent a deux lieux. Paris, c’est Talma, la Duschénois, Potier, la Sorbonne, les boulevards,” and observing that his conclusion was weaker than what preceded it, he added : ” Il n’y a qu’un Paris axe monde. Vous avez été à Paris et vous êtes resté Russe. Eh bien, je ne vous en estime pas moins.”

Under the influence of the wine and after days passed in solitude with his gloomy thoughts, Pierre experienced an involuntary pleasure in his conversation with this merry and good-natured man.

” Pour en revenir à vos dames, on les dit bien belles.

Quelle fichue idée d’aller s’enterrer dans les steppes, quand l’armée française est à Moscou. Quelle chance elles ont manqué celles-là. Vos moujicks c’est autre chose, mais vous autres gens civilisés, vous devriez nous connaître mieux que ça. Nous avons pris Vienne, Berlin, Madrid, Naples, Rome, Varsovie, toutes les capitales du monde — On nous craint, mais on nous aime. Nous sommes bons à connaître. Et puis Vempereur,” he began.

But Pierre interrupted him.

” L’empereur,” repeated Pierre, and his face suddenly assumed a sad and embarrassed expression. ” Est-ce que l’empereur — “

” L’empereur ? C’est la générosité, la clémence, la justice, l’ordre, le génie, voilà l’empereur ! C ‘est moi, Ramball, qui vous le dit. Tel que vous ne voyez, j’étais son ennemi il y a encore huit ans. Mon père a été comte émigré— Mais il m’a vaincu, cet homme. Il m’a empoigné. Je n’ai pas pu résister au spectacle de grandeur et de gloire dont il cozcvrait la France. Quand j’ai compris ce qu’il voulait, quand j’ai vu qu’il nous faisait une litière de lazeriers, voyez-vous, je me suis dit : voilà un souverain, et je me suis donné à lui. Eh voilà ! Oh, oui, mon cher, c’est le plus grand homme des siècles passés et à venir.”

“ Est-il à Moscou ? ” Pierre asked, in embarrassment and with a guilty face.

The Frenchman looked at Pierre’s guilty face and smiled.

“Non, il fera son entrée demain” he said, continuing his conversation.

Their chat was interrupted by the cry of several voices at the gate and by the arrival of Morel, who came to inform the captain that there had come some Wurtemberg hussars who wanted to station their horses in the same yard where the captain’s horses now stood. The difficulty arose chiefly from the fact that the hussars did not understand what they were told.

never do it. Why, he did not know, but he had a presentiment that he should never do it. He fought against the consciousness of his weakness, but he had a dim feeling that he should not overcome it, and that the former gloomy trend of ideas about revenge, murder, and selfsacrifice had dispersed like dust at the touch of the first man.

The captain entered the room, limping slightly, and whistling some kind of a tune.

The Frenchman’s prattling, which before had amused Pierre, now appeared despicable to him. The whistling of the song, the gait, the gesture in twisting the moustache, — everything now appeared offensive to Pierre.

” I will go away at once, and will not speak another word to him,” thought Pierre. That was what he thought, but he continued to sit in the same spot. A strange sensation of weakness fettered him to his seat : he wanted to get up and get away, but he could not.

The captain, on the contrary, seemed very jolly. He twice crossed the room. His eyes glistened, and his moustache twitched lightly as though he smiled to himself at some amusing thought of his.

” Charmant,” he suddenly said, ” le colonel de ces Wurtemberg cois ! C’est un Allemand ; mais, brave garçon s’il en fût. Mais Allemand.”

He sat down opposite Pierre.

” A propos, vous savez donc l’allemand, vous ? ”

Pierre looked at him in silence.

” Comment dites-vous asile en allemand ? “

“ Asile?” repeated Pierre. “ Asile en allemand— Unterkunft.”

“ Comment dites-vous?” the captain repeated, incredulously and hurriedly.

” Unterkunft,” repeated Pierre.

” Ontcrkoff,” said the captain, looking for a few seconds with his laughing eyes at Pierre. ” Les Allemands sont de fières bêtes. N’est-ce pas, M. Pierre?” he concluded.

, “bien, encore une bouteille de ce Bordeaux Moscovite, n est-ce pas ? Morel, va nous chauffer encore une petite bouteille. Morel ! the captain called out, in a merry voice.

Morel brought candles and a bottle of wine. The captain looked at Pierre under the illumination, and he was evidently struck by the disturbed face of his interlocutor. Ramball went up to Pierre with sincere sorrow and sympathy in his face, and bent down over him.

“ Eh bien, nous sommes tristes,” he said, touching Pierre’s hand. ” Vous aurais-je fait de la peine ? Non, vrai, avez-vous quelque chose contre moi?” he asked him. “Peut-être rapport à la situation ?”

Pierre made no reply, but looked kindly at the Frenchman. This expression of sympathy pleased him.

” Parole d’honneur, sans parler de ce que je vous dois, j ‘ai de l’amitié pour vous. Puis-je faire quelque chose pour vous ? Disposez de moi. C’est à la vie et à la mort. C’est la main sur le cœur que je vous le dis,” he said, striking his breast.

” Merci,” said Pierre.

The captain looked fixedly at Pierre, just as he had looked when he found out what the German word for ” refuge ” was, and his face suddenly brightened.

” Ah ! dans ce cas je bois à notre amitié ! ” he shouted merrily, filling two glasses of wine.

Pierre took the glass and emptied it. Ramball drank his, once more pressed Pierre’s hand, and leaned against the table in an attitude of melancholy meditation.

” Oui, mon ami, voilà les caprices de la fortune’,’ he began. ” Qui m’aurait dit que je serais soldat et capitaine de dragons au service de Bonaparte, comme nous l’appcllions jadis. Et cependant me voilà à Moscou avec lui. Il faut vous dire, mon cher,” he continued in the melancholy and measured voice of a man who is getting ready to tell a long story, ” que notre nom est l’un des plus anciens de la France.”

And with the light and naïve frankness of a Frenchman, the captain told Pierre the story of his ancestors, his childhood, youth, and manhood, and of all his family, property, and domestic relations. ” Ma pauvre mère ” naturally played an important part in this story.

” Mais tout ça n’est que la mise en scène de la vie, le fond c’est l’amour. L’amour ! N’est-ce pas, M. Pierre ? ” he said, becoming animated. ” Encore un ver ! “

Pierre drank again and filled himself a third glass.

” Oh ! les femmes, les femmes ! ” and the captain, looking at Pierre with liquid eyes, began to speak of love and of his amatory exploits. There were very many of them, which it was not hard to believe, when one looked at the self-satisfied, handsome face of the officer, and saw the ecstatic animation with which he spoke of women. Although all of Ramball’s love-stories had that character of nastiness, in which the French see the exclusive charm and poetry of love, the captain told his history with such sincere conviction that he had experienced and discovered all the charms of love, and so enticingly described women, that Pierre listened to him with curiosity.

It was evident that I’amour, which the Frenchman loved so much, was not that lower and common kind of love, which Pierre had once experienced toward his wife, not that romantic love, fanned by himself, which he bad experienced toward Natasha (Ramball despised equally both these kinds of love, — the first was I’amour des charretiers, the second I’amour des nigauds) ; l’amour, before which the Frenchman bowed, consisted mainly in the unnaturalness of the relations to the woman, and in the combination of vicious extravagancies, in which lay the chief charm of the sensation.

Thus the captain told a touching story of bis love for a seductive marquise of thirty-five years and, at the same time, for the charming, innocent, seventeen-year-old girl, the daughter of the seductive marquise. The struggle of magnanimity between the mother and daughter, which ended in the mother’s sacrificing herself and offering her daughter as a wife to her lover, even now, though it was a remote recollection, agitated the captain. Then he told an episode, in which the husband played the rôle of a lover, and he (the lover) the rôle of husband, and several comic episodes from his souvenirs d’Allemagne, where asile was Unterkunft, where les maris mangent de la choux croûte, and where les jeunes filles sont trop blondes.

Finally, the last episode in Poland, still fresh in the captain’s memory, which he told with rapid gestures and burning face, was to the effect that he had saved a Pole’s life (the episode of saving some one’s life was, in general, of frequent occurrence in the recitals of the captain), and that this Pole entrusted to him his seductive wife, Parisienne de cœïi/r, while he himself entered the French service. The captain was happy ; the seductive Polish woman wanted to run away with him ; but he, actuated by magnanimity, returned the wife to her husband, saying to him, ” Je vous ai sauve la vie, et je sauve votre honneur ! ” Having repeated these words, the captain rubbed his eyes and shook himself, as though repelling the weakness which possessed him at this touching recollection.

Listening to the recitals of the captain, as often happens late in the evening and under the influence of wine, Pierre was alert to everything which the captain was telling him, understood everything, and, at the same time, followed up a series of his own personal recollections, which for some reason suddenly presented themselves to his imagination. As he listened to these stories of love, his own love for Natdsha suddenly occurred to him, and, reviewing in his imagination the pictures of that love, he mentally compared them with Ramball’s stories. As he listened to the story about the struggle of duty and love, Pierre saw before him all the minutest details of his last meeting with the object of his love at the Sukhärev Tower. At that time the meeting had produced no effect upon him ; he had not even once thought of it. But now it seemed to him that that meeting was somehow very significant and poetical.

” Pierre Kirillych, come here, I have recognized you,” he now heard her words, and saw before him her eyes, smile, travelling cap, straying lock of hair — and in all this there was something touching and tender.

Having finished his recital about the seductive Polish woman, the captain turned to Pierre with the question, whether he had experienced such a feeling of selfsacrifice for love’s sake and of envy of the legitimate husband.

Provoked by this question, Pierre raised his head and felt himself impelled to give utterance to the thoughts which interested him; he began to explain to him that he understood somewhat differently what love for woman was. He said that he had loved only one woman all his life, and that this woman could never be his.

” Tiens ! ” said the captain.

Then Pierre explained that he had loved this woman since his earliest youth; but that he had not dared to think of her because she was too young, and he an illegitimate son without a name. Later, when he had received a name and wealth, he had not dared to think of her because he loved her too much and placed her too high above the whole world, and therefore so much above himself. Upon reaching this point in his story, he turned to the captain with the question whether he understood what he said.

The captain made a gesture which said that, even if he did not understand him, he asked him to proceed.

” Eamour platonique, les nuages — ” he muttered.

The wine consumed, or the need of unburdening his heart, or the thought that this man did not know and never would know any of the actors of his story, or all these taken together, unloosened Pierre’s tongue, and he, with lisping mouth and liquid eyes, looking somewhere into the distance, told his whole history : his marriage, the story of Natasha’s love for his best friend, and her treason, and all his simple relations with her. Incited by Ramball’s questions, he told him what he had concealed at first, — Ins position in society, and even disclosed his name to him.

What most startled the captain in Pierre’s recital was the fact that he was very rich, that he had two palaces in Moscow, and that he had abandoned everything and had not gone away from Moscow, but had remained in the city, concealing his name and station.

It was late at night when both went out into the street. It was a warm, bright night. To the left of the house could be seen the glow of the first fire in Moscow, on the Petrovka. High on the right stood the young sickle of the moon, and on the side opposite to the moon hung that bright comet, which in Pierre’s soul was connected with his love.

At the gate stood Geräsim, the cook, and two Frenchmen. One could hear their laughter and conversation in languages mutually incomprehensible. They looked at the ruddy sky which was visible over the city. There was nothing terrible in the small, distant fire in the immense city.

Looking at the high starry heaven, at the moon, at the comet, and at the glow, Pierre experienced a joyous satisfaction. ” How nice this is ! What else do I want ? ” he thought. And suddenly, as he recalled his intention, his head began to turn and he felt a nausea so that he had to lean against the fence to keep from falling down.

Without bidding his new friend good-bye, Pierre walked with unsteady feet away from the gate and, returning to his room, lay down on the sofa and immediately fell asleep.

XXX.

The fleeing inhabitants and retreating troops looked with various feelings at the glow of the first conflagration, visible on September 2d from various roads.

The caravan of the Rostovs that night rested at Mytishchi, within twenty versts of Moscow. They had left so late on September 1st ; the road was so barred by carts and troops ; so many things had been forgotten, and men had to be sent for them, — that on that first night it had been decided to stop within five versts of Moscow. The next morning they awoke late, and there were again so many delays, that they got only as far as Great Mytishchi. At ten o’clock the Rostévs and the wounded who travelled with them took up quarters in the yards and huts of the large village. The servants, the coachman of the Rostovs, and the orderlies of the wounded, having looked after their masters, ate their supper, fed their horses, and went out on the porch.

In a neighbouring hut lay Raévski’s wounded adjutant, with a shattered hand, and the terrible pain which he experienced made him groan pitifully without cessation, and these groans sounded terrible in the autumnal darkness of the night. During the first night this adjutant had been located in the same yard with the Rostdvs. The countess said that she had not been able to close her eyes that night, and so in Mytishchi she took up the worst hut, only to be as far as possible away from this wounded man.

One of the servants noticed, in the darkness of the night, beyond the high body of the carriage standing at the entrance, another small glow of another conflagration. One glow had been observed long ago, and all knew that it was the reflection from the burning Little Mytishchi, set on fire by Mamdnov’s Cossacks.

“ Friends, this is another fire ! ” said an orderly.

All turned their eyes to the glow.

” They say that Mamdnov’s Cossacks set Little Mytishchi on fire. Oh, no, this is not Mytishchi, it is farther. Look there, it must be in Moscow.” Two of the men went down from the porch, walked around the carriage, and sat down on the carriage steps. ” This is more to the left, — Mytishchi is over there, and this is in an entirely different direction,” several persons joined the first. ” See it flame up ! ” said one. ” This, gentlemen, is a fire in Moscow ; either in the Suchévskaya, or the Rogdzhskaya parts.”

Nobody made any reply to this remark. The men for a long time watched in silence the distant, growing flame of the new fire.

An old man, the count’s chamberlain, as they called him, Danilo Teréntich, went up to the crowd and called Mishka.

” What are you looking at there, lazybones ! The count will ask for you, and there will be no one near by ; go and pick up the clothes ! “

” I was just going to fetch some water,” said Mishka.

” What do you think, Danilo Teréntich ? Isn’t this glow in Moscow ? ” asked one of the lackeys.

Danilo Teréntich made no reply, and all kept silence for a long time. The glow spread and surged farther and farther.

“God have mercy! Wind and drouth — ” again said a voice.

« Look there, how it goes up ! 0 Lord ! You may even see the jackdaws. 0 Lord, have mercy on us sinners ! “

” They will, probably, put it out.”

“ Who is to put it out ? ” was heard the voice of Danilo Teréntich, who had kept silence until then. His voice was calm and grave. ” It is Moscow, friends,” he said, «< Moscow, our white stone — ” his voice broke and he began to sob in old man fashion.

It was as though all had been waiting only for this in order to grasp the meaning that the glow had for them. There were heard sighs, words of prayer, and the sobs of the count’s valet.

XXXI.

The valet returned to the count and informed him that Moscow was burning. The count put on his morninggown and went out to look. With him went Sdnya and Madame Schoss, who were not yet undressed. Natdsha and the countess were left alone in the room. (Pdtya was no longer with bis family : he had gone ahead with his regiment, marching toward Troitsa.)

The countess wept when she heard the news of the fire in Moscow. Natasha, pale, with arrested glance, sitting beneath the images on a bench (the same spot she had been sitting on since her arrival), paid not the least attention to her father’s words. She listened to the unceasing groan of the adjutant, which, though three houses away, could be distinctly heard.

” Oh, how terrible ! ” said chilled and frightened Sdnya, returning from the yard. ” I think all Moscow will burn, — it is a terrible glow ! Natdsha, look there, you can see it through the window,” she said to her, evidently wishing to distract her attention. But Natdsha looked at her as though she did not understand what she was asked about, and again gazed at the corner of the oven. Natasha had been in that condition of stupour since the morning, when Sdnya, to the surprise and annoyance of the countess, for some incomprehensible reason, had found it necessary to inform Natdsha of Prince Andréy’s wound and of his presence in the caravan. The countess had seldom been so angry with Sdnya as she was then. Sdnya wept and begged forgiveness, and now, as though to atone for her guilt, constantly attended to her sister.

” See, Natàsha, how terribly it is burning ! ” said Sonya.

” What is burning ? ” asked Natàsha. “ Oh, yes, Moscow/ And, as though not to offend Sdnya by a refusal, and to get rid of her, she turned her head to the window, looked in such a way that she certainly could not see a thing, and again took up her old attitude.

” But you did not see ? “

” Ideally, I did,” she said, as though entreating to be left alone.

And it was clear to the countess and to Sonya that Moscow, the fire at Moscow, or anything else, could naturally have no meaning for Natàsha.

The count again entered beyond the partition and lay down. The countess walked over to Natäsha, touched her head with the back of her hand, as she used to do when her daughter was ill, then touched her brow with her lips, as though to discover whether she had any fever, and kissed her.

” You are chilled. You are all in a tremble. You had better lie down,” she said.

” Lie down ? Yes, all right, I will lie down. I will, at once,” said Natäsha.

■When Natdsha had been told in the morning that Prince Andréy was dangerously wounded and was travelling with them, she at first asked only, whither ? how ? was he mortally wounded ? and could she see him ? But when she was told that she could not see him, that he was badly wounded, but that his life was not in danger, she apparently did not believe what she was told, but convinced herself that no matter how much she might ask, she would receive the same reply, and so stopped asking and talking.

During the whole journey Natasha sat motionless in the corner of the carriage, her eyes wide open in the way which the countess knew so well, and was so much afraid, and remained in the same posture on the bench on which she had sat down. She was either plotting and planning something, or had already made up her mind to something, — this the countess knew ; but she did not know what it really was, and that terrified and tormented her.

” Natdsha, undress yourself, my darling ! Lie down on my bed ! “

It was only the countess who had a bed made up for her ; Madame Schoss and the two young ladies had to sleep on the floor on hay.

” No, mamma, I will lie down here, on the floor,” Natäsha said, angrily, going up to the window and opening it. The groans of the adjutant were heard more distinctly through the open window. She put her head out into the damp air of the night, and the countess saw that her thin neck shook from sobs and beat against the frame. Natäsha knew that it was not Prince Andréy who was groaning. She knew that Prince Andréy was lying in the same series of buildings with them, in a hut across the vestibule ; but this terrible, unceasing groan, made her sob, too. The countess exchanged glances with Sdnya.

” Lie down, my darling ! Lie down, my dear ! ” said the countess, gently touching Natasha’s shoulder. ” Do lie down ! “

” Oh, yes — Immediately, immediately,” said Natasha, undressing herself in a hurry and breaking the skirt strings. Having thrown off her garments and donned a sack, she sat down on the bed prepared for her on the floor, with her legs under her, and, throwing her short, thin braid over her shoulder, began to braid it. Her thin, long, experienced fingers swiftly and deftly unbraided, braided, and fastened her hair. Natasha’s head with a habitual gesture turned now to one, and now to another side, but her eyes, open feverishly, gazed fixedly in front of her. When her night toilet was finished, she softly let herself down on the sheet, which had been placed over the hay in the corner, near the door.

” Natdsha, lie down in the middle ! ” said Sénya.

” I am all right here,” said Natdsha. “ Lie down all ! ” she added, with annoyance. And she buried her face in the pillow.

The countess, Madame Schoss, and Sdnya hurriedly undressed themselves and lay down. Only one little lamp was burning in the room. But the yard was lighted up by the fire at Little Mytishchi, two versts away, and there was a nocturnal din of voices in the inn which Mamonov’s Cossacks had pitched in the street diagonally across, and there could be heard the incessant groan of the adjutant.

Natdsha for a long time listened to the sounds which were borne to her, from within and without, and did not stir. She heard at first her mother’s prayers and sighs, the creaking of the bed under her, the familiar wheezing snore of Madame Schoss, and Sdnya’s quiet breathing. Then the countess called Natasha. Natdsha made no reply.

” I think she is asleep, mamma,” Sonya answered, softly.

After a moment’s silence, the countess called her again, but no one this time made any reply.

Soon after Natasha heard the even breathing of her mother. Natdsha did not stir, though her bare little foot, straying from the coverlet, was feeling cold on the bare floor.

As though celebrating a victory over everybody, a cricket began to chirp in a chink. A cock crowed in the distance, and one near by gave response. The sounds had died down in the inn, and only the groan of the adjutant was audible. Natdsha raised herself a little.

” Sdnya, are you asleep ? Mamma ? ” she whispered. No one replied. Natasha rose slowly, cautiously made the sign of the cross, and then with her narrow and flexible bare feet stepped cautiously on the dirty, cold floor. The deals creaked. Rapidly alternating her feet, she ran several steps forward, like a kitten, and took hold of the cold door-latch.

She thought that something heavy was striking in even measure against all the walls of the house : it was the palpitation of her heart, tremulous with fear and with terror, and torn asunder by love.

She opened the door, stepped across the threshold, and put her foot on the damp, cold floor of the vestibule. The cold which surrounded her refreshed her. She ran with her bare foot against a sleeping person, stepped over him, and opened the door to the room in which lay Prince Andréy. This room was dark. In the back corner, near a bed on winch lay something, stood a tallow dip, which had guttered into the shape of a large mushroom.

Natdsha had decided the very morning when she was told of Prince Andréy’s wound and of his presence, that she must see him. She did not know why it ought to be, but she knew that the meeting would be painful, and she was more and more convinced that it had to be.

The whole day she had been living only in the hope of seeing him at night. But now, when this moment had arrived, she was overcome by terror at what she would see. Was he disfigured ? What was left of him ? Was he just like that incessant groan of the adjutant ? Yes, he was precisely like it. To her imagination he was the personification of that terrible groan. When she saw an indistinct mass in the corner, and took his knees, which were raised up under the coverlet, for his shoulders, she imagined a terrible body and stopped in dismay. But an insuperable power drew her on. She cautiously made one step, another, and found herself in the middle of a small room, filled up with many things. Under the images, on the bench, lay another man (it was Timokhin), and on the floor lay two more men (those were the doctor and the valet).

The valet raised himself and whispered something. Timdkhin, suffering from pain in his wounded leg, was not sleeping, and looked, with wide eyes, at the strange apparition of the girl in the white shirt, sack, and nightcap. The sleepy and frightened words of the valet, ” What do you wish ? What is it ? ” made Natasha only walk faster toward that which was lying in the comer. No matter how terrible and how unlike a man that body was, she must see it. She passed the valet, the mushroom-like guttering fell off from the candle, and she saw clearly , Prince Andréy, such as he had always been, lying with straightened arms on the coverlet.

He was the same as always ; but the inflamed colour of his face, the glistening eyes, ecstatically directed upon her, and especially his soft, childlike neck, protruding from the turn-over collar of his nightgown, gave him a peculiar, innocent, childlike appearance, which she had never before observed in Prince Andréy. She went up to him and with a rapid, flexible, youthful motion kneeled down before him.

He smiled and extended his hand to her.

XXXII.

Seven days had passed from the time when Prince Andréy regained his consciousness in the ambulance of the field of Borodind. He had been almost all the time unconscious. The feverish condition and inflammation of the bowels, which had been injured, would, in the opinion of the doctor, who was travelling with the wounded man, certainly carry him off. But, on the seventh day, he ate a piece of bread with relish and drank tea, and the doctor noticed that his general fever was subsiding. In the morning Prince Andréy had regained consciousness. The first night after leaving Moscow it was quite warm, and Prince Andréy was left overnight in his carriage ; but in Mytishchi the wounded man himself asked to be taken out and to be given some tea. The pain which was occasioned by his transportation to the room made him groan aloud, and he fainted again. When he was placed on a camp-bed, he lay for a long time with closed eyes. Then he opened them and softly whispered, ” Well, the tea ? ” This attention to the little details of life startled the doctor. He felt the pulse and, to his surprise and dissatisfaction, noticed that it was better. The doctor noticed it with dissatisfaction because, from his experience, he was convinced that Prince Andréy could not live, and that if he did not die at once, he would only die later with greater suffering. With Prince Andréy travelled Major Timdkhin, of his regiment, the man with the red little nose, who had been wounded in the same battle of Borodind : he had joined Prince Andréy in Moscow.

With them also travelled a doctor, the prince’s valet, his coachman, and two orderlies.

Prince Andréy was given some tea. He drank it eagerly, looking with feverish eyes in front of him, at the door, as though endeavouring to comprehend something, and to make something out.

” No more ! Is Timokhin here ? ” he asked.

Timokhin crawled up toward him on his bench.

“ I am here, your Serenity.”

” How is the wound ? ”

« Whose ? Mine ? All right. But how is yours ? “

Prince Andréy again fell to musing, as though trying to recall something.

“ Can’t I get a book ? ” he asked.

” What kind of a book ? ”

” The Gospel ! I have none.”

The doctor promised he would try to get him one, and began to ask the prince how he felt. Prince Andréy answered reluctantly, but intelligently, to all the questions of the doctor, and then said that a cushion ought to be put under him, because he felt so uncomfortable and had such pain. The doctor and the valet raised the mantle with which he was covered, and, frowning from the oppressive stench of decaying flesh, which proceeded from the wound, began to examine that terrible place. The doctor was very much dissatisfied with what he saw, changed something, and turned the wounded man around so that he again groaned and, from the pain caused in the turning, again fainted and became delirious. He kept talking about getting him this book as soon as possible, and of putting it down there.

” It would not be much for you to get it ! ” he said. ” I haven’t it, — please get it, — put it there for a minute,” he said, in a pitiful voice.

The doctor went out into the vestibule to wash his hands. ” Oh, how careless of us, truly ! ” the doctor said to the valet, who was pouring water on his hands. “ Just neglected him for a minute. Why, it is such a pain, that I wonder how he can bear it.”

” I thought we had fixed him, 0 Lord Jesus Christ!” said the valet.

Prince Andréy comprehended for the first time where he was and what had happened to him, and he recalled that he was wounded, and that, at the moment that the carriage stopped in Mytishchi, he had asked to be taken into a house. His thoughts becoming muddled from the pain, he again remembered himself in the house, drinking tea, and then again, repeating in his imagination everything which had happened to him, he most vividly thought of the moment in the ambulance when, at the sight of the suffering of the man he did not like, there had come thoughts to him which gave a promise of happiness. And these thoughts, though indefinite and indistinct, now again possessed his soul. He recalled that he now had a new happiness, and that this happiness had something in common with the Gospel. And so he asked for the book. But the bad position given to his wound and the new turning again mixed up his ideas, and he returned to life only in the dead silence of the night. All were asleep about him. A cricket was chirping in the room across the vestibule ; in the street some one was singing and shouting ; cockroaches rustled on the table, the images, and the walls ; a fat fly was buzzing above his head and near the tallow dip, which had guttered in the shape of a large mushroom, and which was standing near by.

His mind was in a normal condition. The healthy man generally thinks, feels, and recalls simultaneously an endless number of things, but has the power and strength to choose one series of thoughts and phenomena and to hold his attention on that one series. The healthy man in the moment of his profoundest meditation tears himself away in order to say a few poEte words to a person entering, and again returns to his thoughts. In this respect, Prince Audrey’s mind was not in a normal condition. All the powers of his mind were more active, clearer than ever, but they operated outside his will. The most diverse thoughts and conceptions possessed him at the same time. Occasionally his mind suddenly began to work, with such strength, clearness, and depth, as it had never been able to attain when he was in his health ; but suddenly, in the middle of its work, it broke and gave way to some unexpected representation, and he did not have the power to return to the former thought.

” Yes, a new happiness has been revealed to me, — one that is inseparable from man,” he thought, as he was lying in the dim, quiet hut, gazing ahead of him with feverishly open, fixed eyes, ” a happiness which is beyond material powers, beyond material, external influences upon man, the happiness of soul alone, the happiness of love ! Any man may grasp it, but only God could have conceived and prescribed it. But when was it that God prescribed this law ? Why the son ? ” And suddenly the thread of these thoughts broke, and Prince Andréy heard (not knowing whether it was in a dream or in reality that he heard it) a soft, whispering voice, incessantly repeating in even measure: ” I piti-piti-piti,” and then ” i ti-ti,” and again ” i piti-piti-piti,” and again “i ti-ti.” At the same time, to the sound of this whispering music, Prince Andréy felt that above his face, above the very middle of it, was being raised a strange aerial structure of fine needles or splinters. He felt that (though this was hard for him) he must carefully preserve the balance in order that the building which was being reared might not fall in ; it fell in none the less, and again was erected to the sound of the whispered, cadenced music. “ It is expanding, expanding, expanding all the time ! ” Prince Andréy said to himself. At the same time that he was listening to the whisper and feeling the expansion and the rearing of the building of needles, he saw by starts the red, encircled candle-light, and heard the rustling of the cockroaches and the buzzing of the fly, which flapped against his pillow and liis face. And every time when the fly touched his face, it produced a stinging sensation ; at the same time he was surprised to see that the fly, striking into the very sphere of the structure rising above Iris face, did not destroy it. In addition to this, there was something else which was of importance. It was something white at the door, the statue of a sphinx, winch, too, was pressing him.

” But, maybe, it is only my shirt on the table,” thought Prince Andréy, ” and these are my legs, and this is the door, — but why does it all expand and rise ?” I piti-piti-piti i ti-ti — i piti-piti-piti — “ Enough, stop, please, stop ! ” Prince Andréy implored some one. And suddenly thought and feeling again swam out with extraordinary clearness and strength.

” Yes, love,” he thought, with absolute clearness, ” not the love which loves for something, for some purpose, or for some reason, but that love which I experienced for the first time when, dying, I saw my enemy and yet loved him. I experienced that sentiment of love which is the very essence of the soul, and for which no object is needed. I even now experience that blissful feeling. To love your neighbour, to love your enemies ! To love everything, — to love God in all His manifestations !

“ A dear man may be loved with a human love ; but only an enemy may be loved with a divine love. And this is why I experienced such joy when I felt that I loved that man. What has happened to him ? Is he still alive?

“ Loving a man with the human love, one can pass from love to hatred ; but the divine love cannot change. Nothing, not even death, nothing can destroy it. It is the essence of the soul. How many people I have hated in my lifetime ! And of all people I have loved and hated none more than her.” And he thought vividly of Natasha, not as he had thought of her before, with only her charm, which had given him so much pleasure ; he for the first time thought of her soul. And he understood her sentiment, her suffering, shame, repentance. He now for the first time comprehended the cruelty of his refusal, saw the cruelty of his rupture with her. ” If I only could see her once more ! Once only, looking into those eyes, to say — “

I piti-piti-piti i ti-ti i piti-piti-piti — boom, the fly struck against something— And his attention was suddenly transferred to another world of reality and delirium, in which something peculiar was taking place. In this world the structure was still ascending without falling down, and something expanded, and the candle burnt with that red circle, and the shirt-sphinx lay at the door ; but, in addition to all this, something creaked, there was a breath of fresh air, and a new, white sphinx stood before the door. And in the head of this sphinx there were the pale face and the beaming eyes of that very Natâsha of whom he had just been thinking.

” Oh, how oppressive this unceasing delirium is ! ” thought Prince Andréy, essaying to drive this face away from his imagination. But the face stood before him with the power of reality, and it came nearer. Prince Andréy wanted to turn back to the former world of pure thought, but he could not, and the delirium drew him into its sphere. The soft, whispering voice continued its measured lisp ; something pressed him, and expanded, and the strange face stood before him. Prince Andréy collected all his strength, in order to regain consciousness ; he stirred, and suddenly there was a ringing sound in his ears, his eyes grew dim, and, like a man ducking in the water, he swooned. When he came to, Natäsha, that same living Natésha whom of all people in the world he wanted to love with that new, pure, divine love now disclosed to him, knelt before him. He understood that this was the living, real Natasha, and was not surprised, but softly rejoiced. Natasha, kneeling, frightened, fettered to the ground (she could not move), looked at him, repressing her tears. Her face was pale and immovable. Only at the lower part of it something quivered.

Prince Andréy sighed in relief, smiled, and extended his hand.

“ Is it you ? ” he said. ” What happiness ! “

Natdsha with a rapid but cautious motion moved up to him on her knees and, carefully taking his hand, bent her face down to him and began to kiss it, barely touching it with her lips.

“ Forgive me I ” she said, in a whisper, raising her head and looking at him. ” Forgive me ! “

“I love you,” said Prince Andréy.

” Forgive me — “

” What is there to forgive ? ” asked Prince Andréy.

“Forgive me for what I have— done,” Natasha muttered, in a scarcely audible, interrupted whisper, and, barely touching his hand with her lips, began to kiss it oftener and oftener.

” I love thee more, better than before,” said Prince Andréy, raising her face with his hand, so as to be able to look into her eyes.

These eyes, filled with tears of happiness, looked at him timidly, compassionately, and full of the joy of love. Natasha’s thin, pale face with the swollen lips was more than homely, it was terrible. But Prince Andréy did not see that face, — he saw the glowing eyes, which were beautiful. Behind them was heard conversation.

Peter, the valet, now entirely awakened, woke the doctor. Timékhin, who had not slept all the time from the pain in his leg, had for a long time been seeing all that was happening, and writhed on his bench, trying to cover his bare body with the sheet.

” What is this ? ” asked the doctor, raising himself a little in his bed. ” Please go, madam ! “

Just then there was a knock at the door: the countess, discovering the absence of her daughter, had sent the maid for her.

Like a somnambulist who is awakened in the middle of her sleep, Natäsha left the room and, upon returning to the other hut, fell down on her bed sobbing.

From that day on, during all the wandering of the Rostovs, at all resting-places and stops for the night, Natäsha did not leave the bedside of wounded Bolkonski, and the doctor had to confess that he had not expected from the maiden either such firmness, or such skill in tending the wounded man. Although the countess felt terribly at the thought that Prince Andréy might (very probably would, according to the words of the physician) die on the road on the hands of her daughter, she could not oppose Natäsha. Although, on account of the now established relations between the wounded Prince Andréy and Natasha, it occurred to many that, in case of his recovery, the former relations of fiancés would be renewed, no one, least of all Natäsha and Prince Andréy, spoke of it : the undecided, imminent question of life and death, not only in the case of Bolkdnski, but also of Russia, veiled all other considerations.

XXXIII.

Pierre awoke late on September 3d. His head pained him ; the clothes, in which he, without undressing, had slept, weighed heavily on his body, and on his mind was a dim consciousness of something disgraceful, which he had done the day before ; this disgraceful thing was his conversation with Captain Ramball.

His watch pointed to eleven, but it looked very gloomy outside. Pierre rose, rubbed his eyes, and, seeing the pistol with the carved stock, which Gerasim had put back on the writing-desk, Pierre recalled where he was and what he had to do on that day.

« Maybe I am already late ! ” thought Pierre. ” No, no doubt he will not make his entrance before noon.” Pierre did not permit himself to reflect on what was before him, but hastened to act.

Adjusting his dress, Pierre took the pistol into his bands and was getting ready to go. But just then it occurred to him for the first time that he certainly could not carry the weapon openly in his hand. Even under a broad caftan it was difficult to conceal a large pistol. It could not be put away in his belt, nor under his arm. Besides, the pistol had been discharged, and Pierre had had no time to reload it. ” All right, the dagger will do,” Pierre said to himself, though, in deliberating on the execution of his intention, he had more than once decided that the chief error of the student in 1809 consisted in his attempt at stabbing Napoleon. But, as though Pierre’s chief aim consisted not in executing the plan, but in proving to himself that he had not given up his intention

and that he was doing everything for its execution, Pierre grasped the dull-toothed dagger in a green sheath, which he had bought at the Sukharev Tower at the same time that he bought the pistol, and concealed it under his waistcoat.

Having girded his caftan and pulled his cap over his forehead, Pierre, endeavouring not to make any noise and not to meet the captain, passed into the corridor and went out into the street.

The fire, at which he had looked so indifferently the night before, had considerably increased in the night. There were burning simultaneously the Carriage Row, the Transmoskvd, Merchant Row, Povdrskaya Street, the barges on the Moskvä River, and the wood market at the Dorogomflov Bridge.

Pierre’s path lay through the alleys to Povärskaya Street, and thence down the Arbat to the Church of St. Nicholas the Manifested, near which he had decided long ago that he would commit his act. In the majority of houses the gates and shutters were closed. The streets and alleys were deserted. The air reeked with fumes and smoke. Now and then he met Russians with restless and timid faces and Frenchmen with an uncitylike, camp look, walking in the middle of the streets. Both looked in surprise at Pierre. In addition to his great size and fatness, and the strange, gloomily concentrated and suffering expression of his face and whole figure, the Russians looked at Pierre because they could not make out to what condition that man might belong. The Frenchmen, on the contrary, followed him with their eyes, because Pierre, unlike all the other Russians, who looked at the Frenchmen with fear or curiosity, paid not the least attention to them. At the gate of one of the houses three Frenchmen, who were talking to some Russians without being understood by them, stopped Pierre, asking him whether he knew French.

Pierre gave a negative shake of his head and walked on. In another alley a sentry, standing near a green caisson, called out to him, and only after his repeated threatening call and the sound of his gun which he took up, did Pierre understand that he had to walk around the caisson on the other side of the street. He neither heard nor saw any-tiring about him. He carried his intention within him in haste and dread, as something terrible and foreign to him, fearing, from his experience of the night before, that he might lose it. But Pierre was not destined to carry his frame of mind intact to the place toward which he was tending. Besides, even if he had not been delayed by any one on his way, his intention could not have been carried out for the simple reason that Napoleon had four hours before gone from the Dorogomilov Suburb over the Arbät to the Kremlin, and now was sitting, in the gloomiest of moods, in the Tsar’s cabinet in the Kremlin palace, and giving detailed, minute orders about the measures which were to be taken to put out the fires at once, prevent marauding, and pacify the inhabitants. But Pierre did not know it. All absorbed by what was impending, he was tormented like a man who stubbornly undertakes a task which is impossible, not on account of its difficulty, but on account of the incompatibility of the deed with his nature ; he was tormented by the thought of weakening at the decisive moment, and, consequently, of losing respect for himself.

Though he did not hear, nor see anything about him, he instinctively groped his way, and did not make any mistake in the alleys which brought him out to Povdrskaya Street.

As he approached the street more nearly, the smoke became denser and denser, and he even felt warm from the radiated heat. Occasionally tongues of fire shot up behind the roofs of houses. More people were met with in the streets, and they looked more agitated. But, although

Pierre felt that something unusual was taking place around him, he did not account for it by the fact that he was approaching a fire. As he walked along a path, which ran across a vacant place which on one side bordered on Povârskaya Street, and on the other on the gardens of Prince Gruzinski, Pierre suddenly heard the desperate wail of a woman near him. He stopped, as though waking up from sleep, and raised his head.

On one side of the path, on the dried-up, dusty grass, were heaped up household goods : feather beds, a samovar, images, and boxes. On the ground, near the boxes, sat a middle-aged, lean woman, with long, protruding upper teeth, dressed in a black cloak and cap. This woman swayed to and fro and, lamenting, wept her heart out. Two little girls of ten and twelve years of age, wearing soiled short dresses and little cloaks, looked at their mother with an expression of perplexity on their pale, frightened faces. A smaller boy, of about seven years, in a long coat and an immense cap, evidently not his own, was weeping in the arms of an old nurse. A barefoot, dirty maid was sitting on a box and, opening her light blond braid, was picking out the singed hair, by smelling at it. The husband, an undersized, stooping man, in an undress uniform, with wheel-shaped whiskers and smooth temple locks, which could be seen underneath the squarely lodged cap, was, with an immobile face, rearranging the boxes placed on top of each other, and pulling out some kind of garments from them.

The woman almost rushed to Pierre’s feet, when she saw him.

” Dear people, Christians, Orthodox men, save me, help me ! Somebody help me ! ” she said, through sobs. “ The girl ! The daughter ! — My youngest daughter has been left there ! — She has burnt ! Oh, oh ! What did I fondle you for ? — Oh, oh, oh ! “

” Stop, Marya Nikolaevna ! ” the husband addressed her in a soft voice, evidently only in order to justify himself in the presence of a stranger. “No doubt, sister has carried her away, for where else could she be ? ” he added.

« Monster, rascal ! ” furiously shouted the woman, suddenly ceasing to cry. ” You have no heart, — you do not pity your child ! Any other man would take her out of the fire. But he is a monster, and not a man, a father ! You are a gentleman,” the woman turned to Pierre, speaking rapidly between sobs. ” There was a fire next door, and our house caught fire, too. The maid cried : ‘We are burning ! ‘ She rushed to pick up things. We jumped out just as we were — This is what we have saved — By God’s mercy we have saved the bed of the dowry, for everything else is lost. We grabbed the children, but Kdticbka is gone. Oh, oh, oh ! 0 Lord ! ” and she sobbed again. ” My sweet little child ! Burnt ! Burnt ! “

” Where, where was she left ? ” asked Pierre.

From the expression of his animated face, the woman saw that this man could help her.

” Father ! ” she cried, grasping his legs. ” Benefactor, at least satisfy my heart — Aniska, go, wretch, take him there!” she shouted to the maid, angrily opening her mouth and in this motion displaying her long teeth even more.

” Take me, take me there ! I — I — will do it, I, ” Pierre spoke rapidly, with a gasping voice.

The dirty maid came out from behind the box, fixed her braid, and, sighing, went ahead with her heavy, bare feet over the path. Pierre felt as though he had just revived after a long swoon. He raised his head higher, his eyes beamed with the sparkle of life, and he followed the girl with rapid step, catching up with her and walking out on Povärskaya Street. The whole street was shrouded by a cloud of black smoke. The people were crowding before the fire in a large mass. In the middle of the street stood a French general, speaking to those who surrounded him. Pierre, accompanied by the maid, was approaching the place where the French general was standing ; but the French soldiers stopped him.

” On ne passe pas,” he shouted to him.

” This way, uncle,” exclaimed the girl. ” We will pass by an alley through the Nikulin yard.”

Pierre turned back and, running now and then, managed to keep up with the maid. The maid ran across the street, to the left up an alley, and, passing three houses, turned to the right through a gate.

“It is not far now,” said the maid, and, running through a yard, she opened a small gate in the wooden fence and, stopping, indicated to Pierre the wooden wing of a house, which was burning bright and hot. One of its sides had fallen down, another was burning, and the flame licked brightly through the openings of the windows and through the roof.

Passing through the gate, Pierre was overcome by the heat, and instinctively stopped.

” Which, which is your house ? ” he asked.

” Oh, oh, oh ! ” howled the girl, pointing to the wing. ” This one, — here was our lodging. You are burnt now, treasure, Kätichka, my precious miss, oh, oh ! ” Aniska whined at the sight of the fire, feeling the necessity of expressing her feeling.

Pierre rushed toward the wing, but the heat was so great that he involuntarily described a large arc around the wing and found himself near a large house, which was burning from one side only, at the roof, and near which there swarmed a mass of Frenchmen. At first Pierre did not understand what the Frenchmen who were dragging things out were doing there ; but, upon seeing before him a Frenchman, who was striking a peasant with a dull sword, trying to take away from him a fox fur coat, Pierre understood that they were looting there, but he had no time to dwell on that idea.

The sound of crackling and the din of the falling walls and ceilings ; the whistle and hissing of the flame ; the animated shouts of the people ; the sight of the swaying clouds of smoke, now rolling dense and black, now surging up in lighter colour, with the tinsel of sparks; the sight of the now compact, sheaf-shaped, red, and now scaly golden flames, licking the walls ; the sensation of heat and smoke and the rapidity of motion, — all these produced on Pierre the usual, stirring effect of fires. This effect was particularly strong on Pierre because, at the sight of this fire, he suddenly felt himself freed from the thoughts which had weighed so heavily upon him. He felt himself young, merry, agile, and determined. He ran around the wing from the side of the house, and was on the point of running into that part of it which was still standing, when right above him was heard the call of several voices and soon after the thud and metallic sound of something heavy falling near him.

Pierre looked around and saw in the windows of the house the Frenchmen who had thrown out the drawer of a commode, full of some metallic things. Other Frenchmen, standing below, walked over to the drawer.

“ Eh bien, qu’est-ce qu’il veut celui-là ? ” one of the Frenchmen shouted to Pierre.

“ Un enfant dans cettc maison. N’avez-vous pas vu un enfant ? ” asked Pierre.

” Tiens, qu’est-ce qu’il chante, celui-là ? Va te promener ! ” were heard some voices, and one of the soldiers, evidently afraid that Pierre might want to take away the silver and bronzes which were in the drawer, moved threateningly up to him.

“ Un enfant ?” a Frenchman shouted from above. “ J’ai entendu piailler quelque chose au jardin. Peut-être c’est son moutard au bonhomme. Faut être humain, voyez-vous — ”

” Oà est-il ? Oà est-il ? ” asked Pierre.

« Par ici ! Par ici ! ” the Frenchman called out to him from the window, pointing to the garden, which was behind the house. “ Attendez, je vais descendre.” And, indeed, a minute later the Frenchman, a black-eyed lad with a smouch on his cheek, with his coat off, jumped out of the window of the lower floor and, tapping Pierre on the shoulder, ran with him into the garden. a Dcpcchcz-vous, vous autres,” he called out to his companions, ” commence à faire chaud.”

Running back of the house on a sand-covered path, the Frenchman pulled Pierre by the sleeve and pointed to a circle. Under a bench lay a three-year-old girl in a pink little dress.

” Voilà votre moutard. Ah, une petite ! Tant mieux ,” said the Frenchman. “A revoir, mon gros. Faut tire humain. Nous sommes tous mortels, voyez-vous ,” and the Frenchman with the smouch on his cheek ran back to his companions.

Pierre, gasping for joy, ran up to the girl and wanted to take her up in his arms. But, upon seeing a strange man, the scrofulous, homely little child, who resembled her mother, cried out and started to run away. Pierre, however, seized her and lifted her on his arm ; she screamed in a desperate and furious voice and with her tiny hands tried to tear Pierre’s arms away from her, and wanted to bite him with her snotty mouth. Pierre was seized by a sensation of terror and loathing, such as he had experienced at the touch of some little animal. But he made an effort over himself to keep from throwing down the child, and ran back with it to the large house. But it was impossible to run back the same way ; the girl Aniska was not there, and Pierre, with a sensation of pity and loathing, pressing to him as tenderly as possible the sobbing, wet girl, ran through the garden to find another exit.

XXXIV.

When Pierre, running through yards and alleys, at last reached with his charge the Gruzinski garden, at the corner of Povàrskaya Street, he at first did not recognize the place from which he had started for the child : it was so filled up with people and with household goods dragged out from the houses. Besides the Russian families, with their goods, who were seeking safety from the fire, there were also some French soldiers in various costumes. Pierre paid no attention to them. He hastened to find the family of the official, in order to return the daughter to her mother and go back to save some one else. Pierre felt that he had to do many things yet, and that he ought to do them at once. Having heated himself from the fire and the running, Pierre even more powerfully felt that sensation of youthfulness, animation, and determination, which had possessed him at the time he had run away to save the child. The girl had now quieted down, and, holding on to Pierre’s caftan with her little hands, sat in his arms and looked around like a wild little animal. Pierre now and then looked at her and smiled. It seemed to him that he saw something touchingly innocent in that frightened and sickly face.

Neither the official nor his wife was in the place where he had left them. Pierre walked with rapid steps among the people, looking into the faces of those he met. Accidentally he noticed a Georgian or Armenian family, which consisted of a handsome, ver)’ old man with an Eastern type of face, wearing a new, covered fur coat and new boots, an old woman of the same type, and a young woman. This very young woman appeared to Pierre the perfection of an Eastern beauty, with her sharply outlined, arched black eyebrows and long, exquisitely ruddy, beautiful, expressionless face. Amidst the scattered goods in the crowd on the square, she, in her rich velvet cloak and brightly coloured lilac kerchief, which covered her head, reminded one of a tender hothouse plant thrown out into the snow. She was sitting on bundles, a little behind the old woman, and with her immovable, large, black, oblong eyes, with their long lashes, looked upon the ground. She evidently knew her beauty and was afraid because of it. Her face startled Pierre, and he, in his hurry, passing along the fence, several times looked at her. When he reached the enclosure and did not find those he was looking for, he stopped and looked about him.

The figure of Pierre with a child in his arms was more startling than before, and a few Russian men and women collected about him.

” Have you lost any one, dear man ? Are you yourself a nobleman ? Whose child is it ? ” he was asked.

Pierre replied that the child belonged to a woman in a black cloak, who had been sitting there with her children, and asked whether they did not know where she had gone.

” This must be Anférovs’ child,” said an old deacon, turning to a pockmarked woman. ” The Lord have mercy upon us ! The Lord have mercy upon us ! ” he added, in his habitual bass.

” Indeed not Anférovs’ ! ” said the woman. ” The Anférovs left in the morning. This must be Märya Nikolaevna’s, or Ivanovna’s child.”

” He says a woman, and Marya Nikolaevna is a lady,” said a manorial servant.

“ Do you know her ? Long teeth, thin,” said Pierre.

” Precisely, it is Märya Nikoläevna. They went into the garden when the wolves came down here,” said the woman, pointing to the French soldiers.

” 0 Lord, have mercy upon us ! ” the deacon added again.

“You go over there, they are there. It is she. She has been lamenting all the time,” the woman said again. ” It is she. This way ! ”

But Pierre paid no attention to the woman. He had been looking for some moments at what was going on within a few steps of him. He was gazing at the Armenian family and at two French soldiers, who had gone up to the Armenians. One of these soldiers, a small, wily man, was dressed in a blue mantle, which was girded with a rope. On his head he wore a nightcap, and his feet were bare. The other, who particularly attracted Pierre’s attention, was a tall, stooping, blond, lean man with slow motions and an idiotic expression on his face. He wore a frieze capote, blue pantaloons, and large, torn jack-boots. The little Frenchman, the one without shoes, in the blue mantle, walked up to the Armenians and, saying something, at once took hold of the old man’s feet, whereat the old man hurriedly began to take off his boots. The other, in the capote, stopped in front of the beautiful Armenian maiden, and, planting himself silently and with his hands in his pockets in front of her, kept gazing at her.

” Take, take the child,” said Pierre, giving the woman the child and speaking commandingly to her. ” Return her to them ! ” he almost shouted to the woman, putting the weeping child on the ground, and again looking at the Frenchmen and at the Armenian family. The old man was already sitting barefoot. The little Frenchman had taken off his second boot, and was striking both boots against each other. The old man was sobbing and saying something ; but Pierre saw this only in passing ; his whole attention was directed upon the Frenchman in the capote, who, softly swaying, had moved up to the young woman and, drawing his hands out of his pocket, had taken hold of her neck.

The beautiful Armenian woman remained sitting in the same immovable position with drooping, long lashes, as though she did not see, nor feel, what the soldier was doing to her.

While Pierre was running the few steps which separated him from the Frenchmen, the tall marauder in the capote was already pulling from her neck a necklace which she wore, and the young woman, grasping her neck with both her hands, cried in a piercing voice.

” Laissez cette femme ! ” Pierre cried, hoarsely, in a voice of fury, taking the tall, stooping soldier by his shoulder and hurling him away. The soldier fell down, got up, and ran away. But his companion, throwing away the boots, took out his sword and moved threateningly up toward Pierre.

” Voyons, pas de bêtises ! ” he shouted.

Pierre was in one of those transports of fury, when he did not remember anything, and when his strength was increased tenfold. He rushed up against the barefoot Frenchman and, before he had time to unsheath his sword, knocked him down and pounded him with his fists. There was heard the approving cry of the surrounding crowd, and at the same time a mounted patrol of French uhlans appeared around the corner. The uhlans rode up at a trot to Pierre and the Frenchman, and surrounded them. Pierre did not remember anything that followed. He remembered having beaten some one, and some one beating him, and that at last he felt that his arms were tied, and that a crowd of French soldiers was standing around him and searching his clothes.

“Il a un poignard, lieutenant,” were the first words which he understood.

“ Ah, une arme ! ” said the officer, turning to the barefoot soldier who was taken with Pierre.

” C’est Ion. Voies direz tout cela au conseil de guerre,” said the officer. And then, turning to Pierre, “Parlez-vous français, vous ? ”

Pierre looked around him -with blood-filled eyes and made no reply. His face must have looked very terrible, because the officer said something in a whisper, and four more uhlans separated from the command and stationed themselves on both sides of Pierre.

” Parlez-vous français ? ” the officer repeated the question, keeping at a safe distance from him. ” Faites venir V interprète”

From the rear rode forth a man of short stature, in the uniform of the Russian civil service. Pierre from his attire and speech immediately recognized in him a Frenchman from one of the Moscow shops.

” Il ria pas l’air d’un homme du peuple,” said the interpreter, looking at Pierre.

” Oh, oh ! ça m’a bien l’air ri un des incendiaires,” said the officer. ” Demandcz-lui ce gu’il est ! ” he added.

“You who are ?” asked the interpreter. ” You to authority must reply right,” he said.

“Je ne vous dirai pas qui je suis. Je suis votre prisonnier. Emmcncz-moi ! ” Pierre suddenly said in French.

“ Ah, ah ! ” the officer muttered, frowning. ” Marchons ! “

A crowd had gathered about the uhlans. Nearest to Pierre stood the pockmarked woman with the little girl. When the patrol started, she moved forward.

“ Where are they taking you to, my dear ? ” she said. ” The girl, what shall I do with the girl if she does not belong to them ? ” asked the woman.

“Qu’est-ce qu’elle veut, cette femme?” asked the officer.

Pierre was like a drunken man. His ecstatic condition

was enhanced at the sight of the little girl whom he had saved.

“Ce qu’elle dit ? ” he said. ” Elle m’apporte ma fille que je viens de sauver des flammes,” he said. ” Adieu ! ” and, not knowing himself how this aimless lie had escaped him, went along with a determined, solemn step between the Frenchmen.

The patrol of the French was one of those which had been sent out by Durosnel through the different streets of Moscow in order to put a stop to marauding and, especially, to catch the incendiaries, who, according to the general opinion held at that time by the higher French officers, were the cause of the fires. Making the round of several other streets, the patrol arrested five other suspicious Russians, one shopkeeper, two seminarists, a peasant, and a manorial servant, and a few marauders. But of all the suspects, Pierre seemed to be the most suspicious. When they were all brought for the night to a large house at the Zubov rampart, where the guard-house was, Pierre was incarcerated separately, under strict surveillance.