战争与和平(上)-第17章

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this　youth　might　be。
Boris　perceived　that　Pierre　did　not　know　him；　but　did　not　think　fit　to　make　himself　known；　and　without　the　slightest　embarrassment　looked　him　straight　in　the　face。
“Count　Rostov　asks　you　to　come　to　dinner　with　him　to…day；”　he　said；　after　a　rather　long　silence　somewhat　disconcerting　for　Pierre。
“Ah；　Count　Rostov；”　began　Pierre；　delighted。　“So　you　are　his　son；　Ilya？　Can　you　believe　it；　for　the　first　moment　I　did　not　recognise　you。　Do　you　remember　how　we　used　to　slide　on　the　Sparrow　Hills　with　Madame　Jacquot　…　long　ago？”
“You　are　mistaken；”　said　Boris；　deliberately；　with　a　bold　and　rather　sarcastic　smile。　“I　am　Boris；　the　son　of　Princess　Anna　Mihalovna　Drubetskoy。　It　is　the　father　of　the　Rostovs　who　is　called　Ilya；　the　son’s　Nikolay。　And　I　don’t　know　any　Madame　Jacquot。”
Pierre　shook　his　hands　and　head；　as　though　flies　or　bees　were　swarming　upon　him。
“Ah；　how　is　it！　I’ve　mixed　it　all　up。　There　are　such　a　lot　of　relatives　in　Moscow！　You　are　Boris　…　yes。　Well；　now；　we　have　got　it　clear。　Tell　me；　what　do　you　think　of　the　Boulogne　expedition？　Things　will　go　badly　with　the　English；　you　know；　if　Napoleon　gets　across　the　Channel。　I　believe　that　the　expedition　is　very　possible。　If　only　Villeneuve　doesn’t　make　a　mess　of　it！”
Boris　knew　nothing　at　all　about　the　Boulogne　expedition；　and　it　was　the　first　time　he　had　heard　of　Villeneuve。
“Here　in　Moscow　we　are　more　interested　in　dinner　parties　and　scandal　than　in　politics；”　he　said　in　his　self…possessed；　sarcastic　tone。　“I　know　nothing　and　think　nothing　about　it。　Moscow’s　more　engrossed　in　scandal　than　anything；”　he　went　on。　“Just　now　they　are　all　talking　about　you　and　about　the　count。”
Pierre　smiled　his　kindly　smile；　as　though　afraid　for　his　companion’s　sake　that　he　might　say　something　he　would　regret。　But　Boris　spoke　distinctly；　clearly　and　drily；　looking　straight　into　Pierre’s　face。
“There’s　nothing　else　to　do　in　Moscow　but　talk　scandal；”　he　went　on。　“Every　one’s　absorbed　in　the　question　whom　the　count　will　leave　his　fortune　to；　though　perhaps　he　will　outlive　us　all；　as　I　sincerely　hope　he　may。”
“Yes；　all　that’s　very　horrid；”　Pierre　interposed；　“very　horrid。”　Pierre　was　still　afraid　this　officer　would　inadvertently　drop　into　some　remark　disconcerting　for　himself。
“And　it　must　seem　to　you；”　said　Boris；　flushing　slightly；　but　not　changing　his　voice　or　attitude；　“it　must　seem　to　you　that　every　one’s　thinking　of　nothing　but　getting　something　from　him。”
“That’s　just　it；”　thought　Pierre。
“And　that’s　just　what　I　want　to　say　to　you　to　prevent　misunderstandings；　that　you　are　very　much　mistaken　if　you　reckon　me　and　my　mother　among　those　people。　We　are　very　poor；　but　I—at　least　I　speak　for　myself—just　because　your　father　is　rich；　I　don’t　consider　myself　a　relation　of　his；　and　neither　I　nor　my　mother　would　ever　ask　him　for　anything　or　take　anything　from　him。”
It　was　a　long　while　before　Pierre　understood；　but；　when　he　did　understand；　he　jumped　up　from　the　sofa；　seized　Boris’s　hand　with　his　characteristic　quickness　and　awkwardness；　and　blushing　far　more　than　Boris；　began　speaking　with　a　mixed　sensation　of　shame　and　annoyance。
“Well；　this　is　strange！　Do　you　suppose　I　…　how　you　could　think　…　I　know　very　well　…”
But　Boris　again　interrupted　him。
“I　am　glad　I　have　told　you　everything　frankly。　Perhaps　you　dislike　it：　you　must　excuse　me；”　he　said；　trying　to　put　Pierre　at　his　ease　instead　of　being　put　at　his　ease　by　him；　“but　I　hope　I　have　not　offended　you。　I　make　it　a　rule　to　say　everything　quite　plainly。…　Then　what　message　am　I　to　take？　You　will　come　to　dinner　at　the　Rostovs’？”　And　Boris；　with　an　evident　sense　of　having　discharged　an　onerous　duty；　having　extricated　himself　from　an　awkward　position；　and　put　somebody　else　into　one　became　perfectly　pleasant　again。
“No；　let　me　tell　you；”　said　Pierre；　regaining　his　composure；　“you　are　a　wonderful　person。　What　you　have　just　said　was　very　fine；　very　fine。　Of　course　you　don’t　know　me；　it’s　so　long　since　we’ve　seen　each　other　…　we　were　children。…　You　might　suppose　I　should　…　I　understand；　I　quite　understand。　I　shouldn’t　have　done　it；　I　shouldn’t　have　had　the　courage；　but　it’s　splendid。　I’m　very　glad　I　have　made　your　acquaintance。　A　queer　idea；”　he　added；　pausing　and　smiling；　“you　must　have　had　of　me。”　He　laughed。　“But　what　of　it？　Let　us　know　each　other　better；　please！”　He　pressed　Boris’s　hand。　“Do　you　know　I’ve　not　once　seen　the　count？　He　has　not　sent　for　me　…　I　am　sorry　for　him；　as　a　man　…　But　what　can　one　do？”
“And　so　you　think　Napoleon　will　succeed　in　getting　his　army　across？”　Boris　queried；　smiling。
Pierre　saw　that　Boris　was　trying　to　change　the　conversation；　and　so　he　began　explaining　the　advantages　and　difficulties　of　the　Boulogne　expedition。
A　footman　came　in　to　summon　Boris　to　the　princess。　The　princess　was　going。　Pierre　promised　to　come　to　dinner　in　order　to　see　more　of　Boris；　and　pressed　his　hand　warmly　at　parting；　looking　affectionately　into　his　face　over　his　spectacles。
When　he　had　gone；　Pierre　walked　for　some　time　longer　up　and　down　his　room；　not　thrusting　at　an　unseen　foe；　but　smiling　at　the　recollection　of　that　charming；　intelligent；　and　resolute　young　man。
As　so　often　happens　with　young　people；　especially　if　they　are　in　a　position　of　loneliness；　he　felt　an　unreasonable　tenderness　for　this　youth；　and　he　firmly　resolved　to　become　friends　with　him。
Prince　Vassily　accompanied　the　princess　to　the　hall。　The　princess　was　holding　her　handkerchief　to　her　eyes；　and　her　face　was　tearful。
“It　is　terrible；　terrible！”　she　said；　“but　whatever　it　costs　me；　I　will　do　my　duty。　I　will　come　to　stay　the　night。　He　can’t　be　left　like　this。　Every　minute　is　precious。　I　can’t　understand　why　his　nieces　put　it　off。　Maybe　God　will　help　me　to　find　a　way　to　prepare　him。　Adieu；　prince；　may　God　support　you　…”
“Adieu；　my　kind　friend；”　answered　Prince　Vassily；　turning　away　from　her。
“Oh；　he　is　in　an　awful　position！”　said　the　mother　to　her　son；　when　they　were　sitting　in　the　carriage　again。　“He　scarcely　knows　any　one。”
“I　don’t　understand；　mamma；　what　his　attitude　is　as　regards　Pierre。”
“The　will　will　make　all　that　plain；　my　dear；　our　fate；　too；　hangs　upon　it。…”
“But　what　makes　you　think　he　will　leave　us　anything？”
“Oh；　my　dear！　He　is　so　rich；　and　we　are　so　poor。”
“Well；　that’s　hardly　a　sufficient　reason；　mamma。”
“Oh；　my　God；　how　ill　he　is；　how　ill　he　is！”　cried　his　mother。


Chapter　14
WHEN　ANNA　MIHALOVNA　had　driven　off　with　her　son　to　Count　Kirill　Vladimirovitch　Bezuhov’s；　Countess　Rostov　sat　a　long　while　alone；　putting　her　handkerchief　to　her　eyes。　At　last　she　rang　the　bell。
“What　does　it　mean？”　she　said　angrily　to　the　maid；　who　had　kept　her　waiting　a　few　minutes；　“don’t　you　care　for　my　service；　eh？　I’ll　find　you　another　place；　if　so。”
The　countess　was　distressed　at　the　troubles　and　degrading　poverty　of　her　friend；　and　so　out　of　humour；　which　always　found　expression　in　such　remarks　to　her　servants。
“I’m　very　sorry；”　said　the　maid。
“Ask　the　count　to　come　to　me。”
The　count　came　waddling　in　to　see　his　wife；　looking；　as　usual；　rather　guilty。
“Well；　little　countess！　What　a　sauté　of　woodcocks　and　Madeira　we’re　to　have；　ma　chère！　I’ve　tried　it；　I　did　well　to　give　a　thousand　roubles　for　Taras。　He’s　worth　it！”
He　sat　down　by　his　wife；　setting　his　elbow　jauntily　on　his　knee；　and　ruffling　up　his　grey　hair。　“What　are　your　commands；　little　countess？”
“It’s　this；　my　dear—why；　what　is　this　mess　on　you　here？”　she　said；　pointing　to　his　waistcoat。　“It’s　the　sauté；　most　likely；”　she　added；　smiling。　“It’s　this；　my　dear；　I　want　some　money。”　Her　face　became　gloomy。
“Ah；　little　countess！　…”　And　the　count　fidgeted　about；　pulling　out　his　pocket…book。
“I　want　a　great　deal；　count。　I　want　five　hundred　roubles。”　And　taking　out　her　cambric　handkerchief　she　wiped　her　husband’s　waistcoat。
“This　minute；　this　minute。　Hey；　who’s　there？”　he　shouted；　as　men　only　shout　who　are　certain　that　those　they　call　will　run　headlong　at　their　summons。　“Send　Mitenka　to　me！”
Mitenka；　the　young　man　of　noble　family　who　had　been　brought　up　in　the　count’s　house；　and　now　had　charge　of　all　his　money　affairs；　walked　softl