战争与和平(上)-第234章

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“Ah；　the　letter？　Yes；　…”　said　the　prince；　with　displeasure。　“Yes　…　yes　…”　His　face　suddenly　assumed　a　gloomy　expression。　He　paused。　“Yes；　he　writes；　the　French　have　been　beaten。　On　what　river　was　it？”
Dessalle　dropped　his　eyes。　“The　prince　says　nothing　about　that；”　he　said　gently。
“What；　doesn’t　he？　Why；　you　don’t　suppose　I　imagined　it。”
Every　one　was　for　a　long　time　silent。
“Yes　…　yes　…　Well；　Mihail　Ivanitch；”　he　said　suddenly；　raising　his　head　and　pointing　to　the　plan　of　the　building；　“tell　me　how　you　propose　to　make　that　alteration。　…”
Mihail　Ivanitch　went　up　to　the　plan；　and　the　old　prince；　talking　to　him　about　it；　went　off　to　his　own　room；　casting　a　wrathful　glance　at　Princess　Marya　and　Dessalle。
Princess　Marya　saw　Dessalle’s　embarrassed　and　amazed　expression　as　he　looked　at　her　father。　She　noticed　his　silence　and　was　struck　by　the　fact　that　her　father　had　left　his　son’s　letter　forgotten　on　the　drawing…room　table。　But　she　was　afraid　to　speak　of　it；　to　ask　Dessalle　the　reason　of　his　embarrassed　silence；　afraid　even　to　think　about　it。
In　the　evening　Mihail　Ivanitch　was　sent　by　the　prince　to　Princess　Marya　to　ask　for　the　letter　that　had　been　forgotten　on　the　table。　Princess　Marya　gave　him　the　letter；　and　much　as　she　disliked　doing　so；　she　ventured　to　ask　what　her　father　was　doing
“Still　very　busy；”　said　Mihail　Ivanitch；　in　a　tone　of　deferential　irony；　that　made　her　turn　pale。　“Worrying　very　much　over　the　new　wing。　Been　reading　a　little：　but　now”　—　Mihail　Ivanitch　dropped　his　voice　—　“he’s　at　his　bureau　looking　after　his　will；　I　expect。”　One　of　the　old　prince’s　favourite　occupations　of　late　had　been　going　over　the　papers　which　he　meant　to　leave　at　his　death；　and　called　his　“will。”
“And　is　Alpatitch　being　sent　to　Smolensk？”　asked　Princess　Marya。
“To　be　sure；　he’s　been　waiting　a　long　while　for　his　orders。”


Chapter　3
WHEN　MIHAIL　IVANITCH　went　back　to　the　study　with　the　letter；　the　old　prince　was　sitting　in　his　spectacles　with　a　shade　over　his　eyes　and　shades　on　the　candles；　at　his　open　bureau；　surrounded　by　papers；　held　a　long　distance　off。　He　was　in　a　rather　solemn　attitude；　reading　the　papers　（the　“remarks；”　as　he　called　them）　which　were　to　be　given　to　the　Tsar　after　his　death。
When　Mihail　Ivanitch　went　in；　there　were　tears　in　his　eyes；　called　up　by　the　memory　of　the　time　when　he　had　written　what　he　was　now　reading。　He　took　the　letter　out　of　Mihail　Ivanitch’s　hand；　put　it　in　his　pocket；　folded　up　his　papers　and　called　in　Alpatitch；　who　had　been　waiting　a　long　while　to　see　him。
He　had　noted　down　on　a　sheet　of　paper　what　he　wanted　in　Smolensk；　and　he　began　walking　up　and　down　the　room；　as　he　gave　his　instructions　to　Alpatitch；　standing　at　the　door。
“First；　letter　paper；　do　you　hear；　eight　quires；　like　this　pattern；　you　see；　gilt　edged　…　take　the　pattern；　so　as　to　be　sure　to　match　it；　varnish；　sealing…wax　—　according　to　Mihail　Ivanitch’s　list。”
He　walked　up　and　down　the　room　and　glanced　at　the　memorandum。
“Then　deliver　the　letter　about　the　enrolment　to　the　governor　in　person。”
Then　bolts　for　the　doors　of　the　new　building　were　wanted；　and　must　be　of　a　new　pattern；　which　the　old　prince　had　himself　designed。　Then　an　iron…bound　box　was　to　be　ordered　for　keeping　his　will　in。
Giving　Alpatitch　his　instructions　occupied　over　two　hours。　The　prince　still　would　not　let　him　go。　He　sat　down；　sank　into　thought；　and　closing　his　eyes；　dropped　into　a　doze。　Alpatitch　made　a　slight　movement。
“Well；　go　along；　go　along；”　said　the　old　prince；　“if　anything　is　wanted　I’ll　send。”
Alpatitch　went　away。　The　prince　went　back　to　the　bureau；　glancing　into　it；　he　passed　his　hand　over　his　papers；　closed　it　again；　and　sat　down　to　the　table　to　write　to　the　governor。
It　was　late　when　he　sealed　the　letter　and　got　up。　He　was　sleepy；　but　he　knew　he　would　not　sleep；　and　that　he　would　be　haunted　by　most　miserable　thoughts　in　bed。　He　called　Tihon；　and　went　through　the　rooms　with　him；　to　tell　him　where　to　make　up　his　bed　for　that　night。　He　walked　about；　measuring　every　corner。
There　was　no　place　that　pleased　him；　but　worst　of　all　was　the　couch　in　the　study　that　he　had　been　used　to。　That　couch　had　become　an　object　of　dread　to　him；　probably　from　the　painful　thoughts　he　had　thought　lying　on　it。　No　place　was　quite　right；　but　best　of　them　all　was　the　corner　in　the　divan…room；　behind　the　piano；　he　had　never　slept　there　yet。
Tihon　brought　the　bedstead　in　with　the　footmen；　and　began　putting　it　up。
“That’s　not　right；　that’s　not　right！”　cried　the　old　prince。　With　his　own　hands　he　moved　the　bed　an　inch　further　from　the　corner；　and　then　closer　to　it　again。
“Well；　at　last；　I　have　done　everything；　now　I　shall　rest；”　thought　the　prince；　and　he　left　it　to　Tihon　to　undress　him。
Frowning　with　vexation　at　the　effort　he　had　to　make　to　take　off　his　coat　and　trousers；　the　prince　undressed；　dropped　heavily　down　on　his　bed；　and　seemed　to　sink　into　thought；　staring　contemptuously　at　his　yellow；　withered　legs。　He　was　not　really　thinking；　but　simply　pausing　before　the　effort　to　lift　his　legs　up　and　lay　them　in　the　bed。　“Ugh；　how　hard　it　is！　Ugh；　if　these　toils　could　soon　be　over；　and　if　you　would　let　me　go！”　he　mused。　Pinching　his　lips　tightly；　he　made　that　effort　for　the　twenty　thousandth　time；　and　lay　down。　But　he　had　hardly　lain　down；　when　all　at　once　the　bed　seemed　to　rock　regularly　to　and　fro　under　him；　as　though　it　were　heaving　and　jolting。　He　had　this　sensation　almost　every　night。　He　opened　his　eyes　that　were　closing　themselves。
“No　peace；　damn　them！”　he　grumbled；　with　inward　rage　at　some　persons　unknown。　“Yes；　yes；　there　was　something　else　of　importance　—　something　of　great　importance　I　was　saving　up　to　think　of　in　bed。　The　bolts？　No；　I　did　speak　about　them。　No；　there　was　something；　something　in　the　drawing…room。　Princess　Marya　talked　some　nonsense。　Dessalle　—　he’s　a　fool　—　said　something；　something　in　my　pocket　—　I　don’t　remember。”
“Tishka！　what　were　we　talking　about　at　dinner？”
“About　Prince　Mihail　…”
“Stay；　stay”　—　the　prince　slapped　his　hand　down　on　the　table。　“Yes；　I　know；　Prince　Andrey’s　letter。　Princess　Marya　read　it。　Dessalle　said　something　about　Vitebsk。　I’ll　read　it　now。”
He　told　Tihon　to　get　the　letter　out　of　his　pocket；　and　to　move　up　the　little　table　with　the　lemonade　and　the　spiral　wax　candle　on　it；　and　putting　on　his　spectacles　he　began　reading。　Only　then　in　the　stillness　of　the　night；　as　he　read　the　letter；　in　the　faint　light　under　the　green　shade；　for　the　first　time　he　grasped　for　an　instant　its　meaning。　“The　French　are　at　Vitebsk；　in　four　days’　march　they　may　be　at　Smolensk；　perhaps　they　are　there　by　now。　Tishka！”　Tihon　jumped　up。　“No；　nothing；　nothing！”　he　cried。
He　put　the　letter　under　the　candlestick　and　closed　his　eyes。　And　there　rose　before　his　mind　the　Danube；　bright　midday；　the　reeds；　the　Russian　camp；　and　he；　a　young　general；　without　one　wrinkle　on　his　brow；　bold；　gay；　ruddy；　entering　Potyomkin’s　gay…coloured　tent；　and　the　burning　sensation　of　envy　of　the　favourite　stirs　within　him　as　keenly　as　at　the　time。　And　he　recalls　every　word　uttered　at　that　first　interview　with　Potyomkin。　And　then　he　sees　a　plump；　short　woman　with　a　sallow；　fat　face；　the　mother　empress；　her　smiles　and　words　at　her　first　gracious　reception　for　him；　and　then　her　face　as　she　lay　on　the　bier；　and　the　quarrel　with　Zubov　over　her　coffin　for　the　right　to　kiss　her　hand
“Oh；　to　make　haste；　to　make　haste　back　to　that　time；　and　oh；　that　the　present　might　soon　be　over　and　they　might　leave　me　in　peace！”


Chapter　4
BLEAK　HILLS　the　estate　of　Prince　Nikolay　Andreitch　Bolkonsky；　was　sixty　versts　from　Smolensk；　a　little　to　the　rear　of　it；　and　three　versts　from　the　main　road　to　Moscow。
The　same　evening　on　which　the　old　prince　gave　Alpatitch　his　instructions；　Dessalle　asked　for　a　few　words　with　Princess　Marya；　and　told　her　that　since　the　prince　was　not　quite　well　and　was　taking　no　steps　to　secure　his　own　safety；　though　from　Prince　Andrey’s　letter　it　was　plain　that　to　stay　on　at　Bleak　Hills　was　not　free　from　danger；　he　respectfully　advised　her　to　write　herself；　and　send　by　Alpatitch　a　letter　to　the　governor　at　Smolensk；　and　to　ask　him　to　let　her　know　the　position　of　affairs　and　the