战争与和平(上)-第11章

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　Boris　by　all　Anna　Mihalovna’s　efforts　and　entreaties。　Shortly　after　the　gathering　at　Anna　Pavlovna’s；　Anna　Mihalovna　went　back　to　Moscow　to　her　rich　relatives　the　Rostovs；　with　whom　she　stayed　in　Moscow。　It　was　with　these　relations　that　her　adored　Borinka；　who　had　only　recently　entered　a　regiment　of　the　line；　and　was　now　at　once　transferred　to　the　Guards　as　a　sub…lieutenant；　had　been　educated　from　childhood　and　had　lived　for　years。　The　Guards　had　already　left　Petersburg　on　the　10th　of　August；　and　her　son；　who　was　remaining　in　Moscow　to　get　his　equipment；　was　to　overtake　them　on　the　road　to　Radzivilov。
The　Rostovs　were　keeping　the　name…day　of　the　mother　and　the　younger　daughter；　both　called　Natalya。　Ever　since　the　morning；　coaches　with　six　horses　had　been　incessantly　driving　to　and　from　the　Countess　Rostov’s　big　house　in　Povarsky；　which　was　known　to　all　Moscow。　The　countess　and　her　handsomest　eldest　daughter　were　sitting　in　the　drawing…room　with　their　visitors；　who　came　in　continual　succession　to　present　their　congratulations　to　the　elder　lady。
The　countess　was　a　woman　with　a　thin　face　of　Oriental　cast；　forty…five　years　old；　and　obviously　exhausted　by　child…bearing。　She　had　had　twelve　children。　The　deliberate　slowness　of　her　movements　and　conversation；　arising　from　weak　health；　gave　her　an　air　of　dignity　which　inspired　respect。　Princess　Anna　Mihalovna　Drubetskoy；　as　an　intimate　friend　of　the　family；　sat　with　them　assisting　in　the　work　of　receiving　and　entertaining　their　guests。　The　younger　members　of　the　family　were　in　the　back　rooms；　not　seeing　fit　to　take　part　in　receiving　visitors。　The　count　met　his　visitors　and　escorted　them　to　the　door；　inviting　all　of　them　to　dinner。
“I　am　very；　very　grateful　to　you；　mon　cher”　or　“ma　chère；”　he　said　to　every　one　without　exception　（making　not　the　slightest　distinction　between　persons　of　higher　or　of　lower　standing　than　his　own）；　“for　myself　and　my　two　dear　ones　whose　name…day　we　are　keeping。　Mind　you　come　to　dinner。　I　shall　be　offended　if　you　don’t；　mon　cher。　I　beg　you　most　sincerely　from　all　the　family；　my　dear。”　These　words；　invariably　accompanied　by　the　same　expression　on　his　full；　good…humoured；　clean…shaven　face；　and　the　same　warm　pressure　of　the　hand；　and　repeated　short　bows；　he　said　to　all　without　exception　or　variation。　When　he　had　escorted　one　guest　to　the　hall；　the　count　returned　to　the　gentleman　or　lady　who　was　still　in　the　drawing…room。　Moving　up　a　chair；　and　with　the　air　of　a　man　fond　of　society　and　at　home　in　it；　he　would　sit　down；　his　legs　jauntily　apart；　and　his　hands　on　his　knees；　and　sway　to　and　fro　with　dignity　as　he　proffered　surmises　upon　the　weather；　gave　advice　about　health；　sometimes　in　Russian；　sometimes　in　very　bad　but　complacent　French。　Then　again　he　would　get　up；　and　with　the　air　of　a　man　weary　but　resolute　in　the　performance　of　his　duty；　he　would　escort　guests　out；　stroking　up　his　grey　hair　over　his　bald　patch；　and　again　he　would　urge　them　to　come　to　dinner。　Sometimes　on　his　way　back　from　the　hall；　he　would　pass　through　the　conservatory　and　the　butler’s　room　into　a　big　room　with　a　marble　floor；　where　they　were　setting　a　table　for　eighty　guests；　and　looking　at　the　waiters　who　were　bringing　in　the　silver　and　china；　setting　out　tables　and　unfolding　damask　tablecloths；　he　would　call　up　Dmitry　Vassilyevitch；　a　young　man　of　good　family；　who　performed　the　duties　of　a　steward　in　his　household；　and　would　say：　“Now　then；　Mitenka；　mind　everything’s　right。　That’s　it；　that’s　it；”　he　would　say；　looking　round　with　pleasure　at　the　immense　table　opened　out　to　its　full　extent；　“the　great　thing　is　the　service。　So；　so。”　…And　he　went　off　again　with　a　sigh　of　satisfaction　to　the　drawing…room。
“Marya　Lvovna　Karagin　and　her　daughter；”　the　countess’s　huge　footman　announced　in　a　deep　bass　at　the　drawing…room　door。　The　countess　thought　a　moment；　and　took　a　pinch　from　a　golden　snuff…box　with　her　husband’s　portrait　on　it。
“I’m　worn　out　with　these　callers；”　she　said；　“well；　this　is　the　last　one　I’ll　see。　She’s　so　affected。　Show　her　up；”　she　said　in　a　dejected　tone；　as　though　she　were　saying；　“Very　well；　finish　me　off　entirely！”
A　tall；　stout；　haughty…looking　lady　and　her　round…faced；　smiling　daughter　walked　with　rustling　skirts　into　the　drawing…room。
“Dear　countess；　it　is　such　a　long　time…she　has　been　laid　up；　poor　child…at　the　Razumovskys’　ball；　and　the　Countess　Apraxin…I　was　so　glad；”　feminine　voices　chattered　briskly；　interrupting　one　another　and　mingling　with　the　sound　of　rustling　skirts　and　the　scraping　of　chairs。　Conversation　began　of　the　sort　which　is　kept　up　just　long　enough　for　the　caller　to　get　up　at　the　first　pause；　rustling　her　skirts　and　with　a　murmur　of　“I　am　so　charmed；　mamma’s　health…and　the　Countess　Apraxin…”　walk　out　again　with　the　same　rustle　to　the　hall　to　put　on　cloak　or　overcoat　and　drive　away。　The　conversation　touched　on　the　chief　items　of　news　in　the　town；　on　the　illness　of　the　wealthy　old　Count　Bezuhov；　a　man　who　had　been　renowned　for　his　personal　beauty　in　the　days　of　Catherine；　and　on　his　illegitimate　son；　Pierre；　who　had　behaved　so　improperly　at　a　soirée　at　Anna　Pavlovna’s。　“I　am　very　sorry　for　the　poor　count；”　declared　the　visitor；　“his　health　in　such　a　precarious　state；　and　now　this　distress　caused　him　by　his　son；　it　will　be　the　death　of　him！”
“Why；　what　has　happened？”　asked　the　countess；　as　though　she　did　not　know　what　was　meant；　though　she　had　heard　about　the　cause　of　Count　Bezuhov’s　distress　fifteen　times　already。
“This　is　what　comes　of　modern　education！　When　he　was　abroad；”　the　visitor　pursued；　“this　young　man　was　left　to　his　own　devices；　and　now　in　Petersburg；　they　say；　he　has　been　doing　such　atrocious　things　that　he　has　been　sent　away　under　police　escort。”
“Really！”　said　the　countess。
“He　has　made　a　bad　choice　of　his　companions；”　put　in　Princess　Anna　Mihalovna。　“Prince　Vassily’s　son—he　and　a　young　man　called　Dolohov；　they　say—God　only　knows　the　dreadful　things　they’ve　been　doing。　And　both　have　suffered　for　it。　Dolohov　has　been　degraded　to　the　rank　of　a　common　soldier；　while　Bezuhov’s　son　has　been　banished　to　Moscow。　As　to　Anatole　Kuragin…his　father　managed　to　hush　it　up　somehow。　But　he　has　been　sent　out　of　Petersburg　too。”
“Why；　what　did　they　do？”　asked　the　countess。
“They’re　perfect　ruffians；　especially　Dolohov；”　said　the　visitor。　“He’s　the　son　of　Marya　Ivanovna　Dolohov；　such　a　worthy　woman；　you　know；　but　there！　Only　fancy；　the　three　of　them　had　got　hold　of　a　bear　somewhere；　put　it　in　a　carriage　with　them；　and　were　taking　it　to　some　actress’s。　The　police　ran　up　to　stop　them。　They　took　the　police　officer；　tied　him　back　to　back　to　the　bear；　and　dropped　the　bear　into　the　Moika：　the　bear　swam　with　the　police　officer　on　him。”
“A　pretty　figure　he　must　have　looked；　ma　chère；”　cried　the　count；　helpless　with　laughter。
“Ah；　such　a　horror！　What　is　there　to　laugh　at　in　it；　count？”
But　the　ladies　could　not　help　laughing　at　it　themselves。
“It　was　all　they　could　do　to　rescue　the　unlucky　man；”　the　visitor　went　on。　“And　that’s　the　intellectual　sort　of　amusement　the　son　of　Count　Kirill　Vladimirovitch　Bezuhov　indulges　in！”　she　added。　“And　people　said　he　was　so　well　educated　and　clever。　That’s　how　foreign　education　turns　out。　I　hope　no　one　will　receive　him　here；　in　spite　of　his　great　wealth。　They　tried　to　introduce　him　to　me。　I　gave　an　absolute　refusal：　I　have　daughters。”
“What　makes　you　say　the　young　man　is　so　wealthy？”　asked　the　countess；　turning　away　from　the　girls；　who　at　once　looked　as　though　they　did　not　hear。　“He　has　none　but　illegitimate　children。　I　believe　that…Pierre　too　is　illegitimate。”
The　visitor　waved　her　hand。　“He　has　a　score　of　them；　I　suppose。”
Princess　Anna　Mihalovna　interposed；　obviously　wishing　to　show　her　connections　and　intimate　knowledge　with　every　detail　in　society。
“This　is　how　the　matter　stands；”　she　said　meaningly；　speaking　in　a　half　whisper。　“Count　Kirill　Vladimirovitch’s　reputation　we　all　know。…He　has　lost　count　of　his　own　children；　indeed；　but　this　Pierre　was　his　favourite。”
“How　handsome　the　old　man　was；”　said　the　countess；　“only　last　year！　A　finer…looking　man　I　have　never　seen。”
“Now　he’s　very　much　altered；”　said　Ann