战争与和平(上)-第227章

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“To　be　sure；　he　always　mislays　everything；”　said　the　countess。
Natasha　came　in　with　a　softened　and　agitated　face　and　sat　down；　looking　mutely　at　Pierre。　As　soon　as　she　came　into　the　room；　Pierre’s　face；　which　had　been　overcast；　brightened；　and　while　still　seeking　for　the　paper；　he　looked　several　times　intently　at　her。
“By　God；　I’ll　drive　round；　I　must　have　forgotten　them　at　home。　Of　course…”
“Why；　you　will　be　late　for　dinner。”
“Oh！　and　the　coachman　has　not　waited。”
But　Sonya　had　gone　into　the　vestibule　to　look　for　the　papers；　and　there　found　them　in　Pierre’s　hat；　where　he　had　carefully　put　them　under　the　lining。　Pierre　would　have　read　them。
“No；　after　dinner；”　said　the　old　count；　who　was　obviously　looking　forward　to　the　reading　of　them　as　a　great　treat。
At　dinner　they　drank　champagne　to　the　health　of　the　new　cavalier　of　St。　George；　and　Shinshin　told　them　of　the　news　of　the　town；　of　the　illness　of　the　old　Georgian　princess；　and　of　the　disappearance　of　Metivier　from　Moscow；　and　described　how　a　German　had　been　brought　before　Rastoptchin　by　the　people；　who　declared　（so　Count　Rastoptchin　told　the　story）　that　he　was　a　champignon；　and　how　Count　Rastoptchin　had　bade　them　let　the　champignon　go；　as　he　was　really　nothing　but　an　old　German　mushroom。
“They　keep　on　seizing　people；”　said　the　count。　“I　tell　the　countess　she　ought　not　to　speak　French　so　much。　Now’s　not　the　time　to　do　it。”
“And　did　you　hear；”　said　Shinshin；　“Prince　Galitzin　has　engaged　a　Russian　teacher—he’s　learning　Russian。　It　begins　to　be　dangerous　to　speak　French　in　the　streets。”
“Well；　Count　Pyotr　Kirillitch；　now　if　they　raise　a　general　militia；　you　will　have　to　mount　a　horse　too；　ah？”　said　the　old　count　addressing　Pierre。
Pierre　was　dreamy　and　silent　all　dinner…time。　He　looked　at　the　count　as　though　not　understanding。
“Yes；　yes；　for　the　war；”　he　said。　“No！　A　fine　soldier　I　should　make！　And　yet　everything’s　so　strange；　so　strange！　Why；　I　don’t　understand　it　myself。　I　don’t　know；　I　am　far　from　being　military　in　my　taste；　but　in　these　days　no　one　can　answer　for　himself。”
After　dinner　the　count　settled　himself　comfortably　in　a　low　chair；　and　with　a　serious　face　asked　Sonya；　who　enjoyed　the　reputation　of　a　good　reader；　to　read　the　Tsar’s　appeal。
“To　our　metropolitan　capital　Moscow。　The　enemy　has　entered　our　border　with　an　immense　host　and　comes　to　lay　waste　our　beloved　country；”　Sonya　read　conscientiously　in　her　thin　voice。　The　count　listened　with　closed　eyes；　heaving　abrupt　sighs　at　certain　passages。
Natasha　sat　erect；　looking　inquisitively　and　directly　from　her　father　to　Pierre。
Pierre　felt　her　eyes　on　him　and　tried　not　to　look　round。　The　countess　shook　her　head　disapprovingly　and　wrathfully　at　every　solemn　expression　in　the　manifesto。　In　all　these　words　she　saw　nothing　but　that　the　danger　menacing　her　son　would　not　soon　be　over。　Shinshin；　pursing　his　lips　up　into　a　sarcastic　smile；　was　clearly　preparing　to　make　a　joke　at　the　first　subject　that　presented　itself：　at　Sonya’s　reading；　the　count’s　next　remark；　or　even　the　manifesto　itself；　if　no　better　pretext　should　be　found。
After　reading　of　the　dangers　threatening　Russia；　the　hopes　the　Tsar　rested　upon　Moscow；　and　particularly　on　its　illustrious　nobility；　Sonya；　with　a　quiver　in　her　voice；　due　principally　to　the　attention　with　which　they　were　listening　to　her；　read　the　last　words：　“We　shall　without　delay　be　in　the　midst　of　our　people　in　the　capital；　and　in　other　parts　of　our　empire；　for　deliberation；　and　for　the　guidance　of　all　our　militia　levies　both　those　which　are　already　barring　the　progress　of　the　foe；　and　those　to　be　formed　for　conflict　with　him；　wherever　he　may　appear。　And　may　the　ruin　with　which　he　threatens　us　recoil　on　his　own　head；　and　may　Europe；　delivered　from　bondage；　glorify　the　name　of　Russia！”
“That’s　right！”　cried　the　count；　opening　his　wet　eyes；　and　several　times　interrupted　by　a　sniff；　as　though　he　had　put　a　bottle　of　strong　smelling…salts　to　his　nose。　He　went　on；　“Only　let　our　sovereign　say　the　word；　we　will　sacrifice　everything　without　grudging。”
Before　Shinshin　had　time　to　utter　the　joke　he　was　ready　to　make　on　the　count’s　patriotism；　Natasha　had　jumped　up　from　her　seat　and　run　to　her　father。
“What　a　darling　this　papa　is！”　she　cried；　kissing　him；　and　she　glanced　again　at　Pierre　with　the　unconscious　coquetry　that　had　come　back　with　her　fresh　interest　in　life。
“Oh；　what　a　patriot　she　is！”　said　Shinshin。
“Not　a　patriot　at　all；　but　simply…”　Natasha　began；　nettled。　“You　think　everything　funny；　but　this　isn’t　at　all　a　joke…”
“A　joke；”　repeated　the　count。　“Only　let　him　say　the　word；　we　will　all　go…　We’re　not　a　set　of　Germans！”
“Did　you　notice；”　said　Pierre；　“the　words；　‘for　deliberation…’　”
“Yes；　to　be　sure；　for　whatever　might　come…”
Meanwhile　Petya；　to　whom　no　one　was　paying　attention；　went　up　to　his　father；　and　very　red；　said　in　a　voice　that　passed　abruptly　from　gruffness　to　shrillness；　“Well；　now；　papa；　I　tell　you　positively—and　mamma　too；　say　what　you　will—I　tell　you　you　must　let　me　go　into　the　army；　because　I　cannot…　and　that’s　all　about　it。”
The　countess　in　dismay　turned　her　eyes　up　to　heaven；　clasped　her　hands；　and　said　angrily　to　her　husband：
“See；　what　your　talk　has　brought　us　to！”
But　the　count　recovered　the　same　instant　from　the　excitement。
“Come；　come；”　he　said。　“A　fine　warrior　you’d　make！　Don’t　talk　nonsense；　you　have　your　studies　to　attend　to。”
“It’s　not　nonsense；　papa。　Fedya　Obolensky’s　younger　than　I　am；　and　he’s　going　too；　and　what’s　more；　I　can’t　anyhow　study　now；　when…”　Petya　stopped；　flushed　till　his　face　was　perspiring；　yet　stoutly　went　on　…　“when　the　country’s　in　danger。”
“Hush；　hush；　nonsense！…”
“Why；　but　you　said　yourself　you　would　sacrifice　everything。”
“Petya！　I　tell　you　be　quiet；”　cried　the　count；　looking　at　his　wife；　who　was　gazing　with　a　white　face　and　fixed　eyes　at　her　younger　son。
“Let　me　say　…Pyotr　Kirillovitch　here　will　tell　you…”
“I　tell　you；　it’s　nonsense；　the　milk’s　hardly　dry　on　his　lips；　and　he　wants　to　go　into　the　army！　Come；　come；　I　tell　you；”　and　the　count；　taking　the　papers　with　him；　was　going　out　of　the　room；　probably　to　read　them　once　more　in　his　study　before　his　nap。
“Pyotr　Kirillovitch；　let　us　have　a　smoke。…”
Pierre　felt　embarrassed　and　hesitating。　Natasha’s　unusually　brilliant　and　eager　eyes；　continually　turned　upon　him　with　more　than　cordiality　in　them；　had　reduced　him　to　this　condition。
“No；　I　think　I’ll　go　home。…”
“Go　home？　But　you　meant　to　spend　the　evening　with　us。…　You　come　rarely　enough；　as　it　is。　And　this　girl　of　mine；”　said　the　count　good…humouredly；　looking　towards　Natasha；　“is　never　in　spirits　but　when　you　are　here。…”
“But　I　have　forgotten　something。　I　really　must　go　home。…　Business。…”　Pierre　said　hurriedly。
“Well；　good…bye　then；”　said　the　count　as　he　went　out　of　the　room。
“Why　are　you　going　away？　Why　are　you　so　upset？　What　for？”　Natasha　asked　Pierre；　looking　with　challenging　eyes　into　his　face。
“Because　I　love　you！”　he　wanted　to　say；　but　he　did　not　say　it。　He　crimsoned　till　the　tears　came；　and　dropped　his　eyes。
“Because　it　is　better　for　me　not　to　be　so　often　with　you。…　Because　…no；　simply　I　have　business。…”
“What　for？　No；　do　tell　me；”　Natasha　was　beginning　resolutely；　and　she　suddenly　stopped。　Both　in　dismay　and　embarrassment　looked　at　one　another。　He　tried　to　laugh；　but　could　not；　his　smile　expressed　suffering；　and　he　kissed　her　hand　and　went　out　without　a　word。
Pierre　made　up　his　mind　not　to　visit　the　Rostovs　again。


Chapter　21
AFTER　THE　UNCOMPROMISING　REFUSAL　he　had　received；　Petya　went　to　his　own　room；　and　there　locking　himself　in；　he　wept　bitterly。　All　his　family　behaved　as　though　they　noticed　nothing　when　he　came　in　to　tea；　silent　and　depressed　with　tear…stained　eyes。
Next　day；　the　Tsar　arrived　in　Moscow。　Several　of　the　Rostovs’　servants　asked　permission　to　go　out　to　see　the　Tsar。　That　morning　Petya　spent　a　long　time　dressing。　He　combed　his　hair　and　arranged　his　collar　like　a　grown…up　man。　He　screwed　up　his　eyes　before　the　looking…glass；　gesticulated；　shrugged　his　shoulders；　and　finally；　without　saying　anything　to　any　one；　he　put　on　his　cap　and　went　out　of　t