战争与和平(上)-第248章

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She　had　a　vivid　picture　of　the　moment　when　he　was　first　stricken　down　and　was　being　dragged　in　from　the　garden　at　Bleak　Hills；　and　he　had　muttered　something；　twitching　his　grey　eyebrows；　and　looking　timidly　and　uneasily　at　her。　“Even　then　he　wanted　to　tell　me　what　he　told　me　on　the　day　of　his　death；”　she　thought。　“He　always　thought　what　he　told　me　then。”
And　then　she　recalled　with　every　detail　the　night　at　Bleak　Hills　before　his　stroke；　when；　with　a　presentiment　of　trouble；　she　had　remained　with　him　against　his　will。　She　had　not　slept；　and　at　night　she　had　stolen　down　on　tip…toe；　and　going　to　the　door　of　the　conservatory　room　where　her　father　was　spending　that　night；　she　had　listened　to　his　voice。　He　was　talking　in　a　weary；　harassed　voice　to　Tihon。　He　was　saying　something　about　the　Crimea；　about　the　warm　nights；　about　the　Empress。　Evidently　he　wanted　to　talk　to　some　one。　“And　why　didn’t　he　send　for　me？　Why　didn’t　he　let　me　be　there　in　Tihon’s　place？”　Princess　Marya　had　thought　then　and　thought　again　now。　“Now　he　will　never　tell　any　one　all　that　was　in　his　heart。　Now　the　moment　will　never　return　when　he　might　have　told　me　all　he　longed　to　express；　and　I　and　not　Tihon　might　have　heard　and　understood。　Why　didn’t　I　go　into　his　room　then？”　she　thought。　“Perhaps　he　would　have　said　to　me　then　what　he　said　on　the　day　of　his　death。　Even　then　talking　to　Tihon　he　asked　about　me　twice。　He　was　longing　to　see　me　while　I　was　standing　there　behind　the　door。　He　was　sad　and　weary　talking　to　Tihon；　who　did　not　understand　him。　I　remember　how　he　spoke　to　him　of　Liza　as　though　she　were　living—he　forgot　that　she　was　dead；　and　Tihon　reminded　him　that　she　was　no　more；　and　he　cried；　‘Fool！’　He　was　miserable。　I　heard　from　the　door　how　he　lay　down　groaning　on　the　bed　and　cried　out　aloud；　‘My　God！’　Why　didn’t　I　go　in　then？　What　could　he　have　done　to　me？　What　could　I　have　lost？　And；　perhaps；　then　he　would　have　been　comforted；　he　would　have　said　that　word　to　me。”　And　Princess　Marya　uttered　aloud　that　caressing　word　he　had　said　to　her　on　the　day　of　his　death。　“Da…ar…ling！”　Princess　Marya　repeated　the　word　and　broke　into　sobs　that　relieved　her　heart。　She　could　see　his　face　before　her　now。　And　not　the　face　she　had　known　ever　since　she　could　remember　and　had　always　seen　at　a　distance；　but　the　weak　and　timid　face　she　had　seen　on　the　last　day　when；　bending　to　his　lips　to　catch　what　he　said；　she　had；　for　the　first　time；　looked　at　it　quite　close　with　all　its　wrinkles。
“Darling；”　she　repeated。
“What　was　he　thinking　when　he　uttered　that　word？　What　is　he　thinking　now？”　was　the　question　that　rose　suddenly　to　her　mind；　and　in　answer　to　it　she　saw　him　with　the　expression　she　had　seen　on　the　face　bound　up　with　a　white　handkerchief　in　the　coffin。　And　the　horror　that　had　overcome　her　at　the　moment　when　she　had　touched　him；　and　felt　that　it　was　not　he　but　something　mysterious　and　horrible；　came　over　her　now。　She　tried　to　think　of　something　else；　tried　to　pray；　and　could　do　nothing。　With　wide　eyes　she　gazed　at　the　moonlight　and　the　shadows；　every　instant　expecting　to　see　his　dead　face；　and　feeling　as　though　she　were　held　spellbound　in　the　stillness　that　reigned　without　and　within　the　house。
“Dunyasha！”　she　whispered。　“Dunyasha！”　she　shrieked　wildly；　and　tearing　herself　out　of　the　stillness；　she　ran　towards　the　maids’　room；　meeting　the　old　nurse　and　the　maids　running　out　to　meet　her。


Chapter　13
ON　THE　17TH　of　August　Rostov　and　Ilyin；　accompanied　by　Lavrushka；　who　had　just　come　back　from　being　taken　prisoner　by　the　French；　and　an　hussar　on　orderly　duty；　rode　out　from　Yankovo；　fifteen　versts　from　Bogutcharovo。　They　meant　to　try　a　new　horse　that　Ilyin　had　bought；　and　to　find　out　whether　there　was　hay　to　be　had　in　the　village。
Bogutcharovo　had　been　for　the　last　three　days　between　the　two　hostile　armies；　so　that　the　Russian　rearguard　could　reach　the　village　as　easily　as　the　French　vanguard；　and　therefore　Rostov；　like　a　careful　officer；　was　anxious　to　anticipate　the　French　in　securing　any　provisions　that　might　be　left　there。
Rostov　and　Ilyin　were　in　the　liveliest　spirits。　On　the　way　to　Bogutcharovo；　which　they　knew　to　be　an　estate　belonging　to　a　prince；　with　a　manor…house；　where　they　hoped　to　find　a　large　household；　and；　perhaps；　pretty　servant…girls；　they　questioned　Lavrushka　about　Napoleon；　and　laughed　at　his　stories；　then　raced　their　horses　to　test　Ilyin’s　new　purchase。　Rostov　had　no　notion　that　the　village　to　which　he　was　going　was　the　property　of　the　very　Prince　Bolkonsky　who　had　been　betrothed　to　his　sister。
Rostov　and　Ilyin　had　just　let　their　horses　race　till　they　were　weary　for　the　last　time　before　Bogutcharovo；　and　Rostov；　outstripping　Ilyin　was　the　first　to　gallop　into　the　village　street。
“You　started　in　front；”　said　Ilyin；　flushed。
“Yes；　always　in　front；　in　the　meadow　and　here　too；”　answered　Rostov；　patting　his　foaming　Don　horse。
“And　on　my　Frenchy；　your　excellency；”　said　Lavrushka　from　behind；　meaning　the　wretched　cart…horse　he　was　riding；　“I　could　have　overtaken　you；　only　I　didn’t　want　to　put　you　to　shame。”
They　rode　at　a　walking　pace　towards　the　granary；　where　there　was　a　great　crowd　of　peasants　standing。　Several　of　the　peasants　took　off　their　caps；　others　stared　at　them　without　taking　off　their　caps。　Two　old　peasants；　with　wrinkled　faces　and　scanty　beards；　came　out　of　the　tavern；　reeling　and　singing　a　tuneless　song；　and　advanced　with　smiles　towards　the　officers。　“They’re　fine　fellows！”　said　Rostov；　laughing。　“Well；　have　you　any　hay？”
“And　so　alike；　somehow　…”　said　Ilyin。
“Ma　…　a　…　aking　mer　…　ry　in　my　sum　…　sum　…　mer　…”　chanted　the　peasant；　with　a　blissful　smile。
A　peasant　came　out　of　the　crowd　and　went　up　to　Rostov。
“Which　part　will　you　be　from？”　asked　the　peasant。
“We’re　French；”　answered　Ilyin；　laughing。　“And　this　is　Napoleon　himself；”　he　said；　pointing　to　Lavrushka。
“I　suppose　you　are　Russians　then？”　the　peasant　inquired。
“And　have　you　many　troops　here？”　asked　another　short　peasant；　approaching。
“A　great　many；”　answered　Rostov。　“But　why　are　you　all　assembled　here？”　he　added。　“Is　it　a　holiday　or　what？”
“The　old　men　are　met　about　the　village　business；”　answered　the　peasant；　moving　away　from　him。
At　that　moment　there　came　into　sight　two　women　and　a　man　in　a　white　hat　running　from　the　prince’s　house　towards　the　officers。
“The　one　in　pink’s　mine；　hands　off；　beware！”　said　Ilyin；　noticing　Dunyasha　running　resolutely　towards　them。
“She’ll　be　the　girl　for　us！”　said　Lavrushka；　winking　to　Ilyin。
“What　is　it　you　want；　my　pretty？”　said　Ilyin；　smiling。
“The　princess　sent　me　to　ask　of　what　regiment　are　you；　and　what　is　your　name？”
“This　is　Count　Rostov；　the　commander　of　the　squadron；　and　I　am　your　humble　servant。”
“Mer　…　mer　…　mer　…　arbour！”　chanted　the　drunken　peasant；　smiling　blissfully；　and　gazing　at　Ilyin　as　he　talked　to　the　girl。　Alpatitch　followed　Dunyasha；　taking　off　his　hat　to　Rostov　as　he　approached。
“I　make　bold　to　trouble　your　honour；”　he　said；　putting　one　hand　in　his　bosom；　and　speaking　with　a　respectfulness　in　which　there　was　a　shade　of　contempt　for　the　officer’s　youth。　“My　mistress；　the　daughter　of　general…in…chief　Prince　Nikolay　Andreitch　Bolkonsky；　who　died　on　the　15th　of　this　month；　being　in　difficulties　owing　to　the　coarse　ignorance　of　those　people”—he　pointed　to　the　peasants—“begs　you　to　come　…　Would　you　not　be　pleased；”　said　Alpatitch；　with　a　melancholy　smile；　“to　move　a　little　away；　as　it　is　not　so　convenient　before　…”　Alpatitch　indicated　two　peasants；　who　were　hovering　about　him；　like　gadflies　about　a　horse。
“Ay！　…　Alpatitch！　…　Ay！　Yakov　Alpatitch！　first…rate　job！　Eh？　…　for　Christ’s　sake；　forgive　us。　First…rate！　ay？”　cried　the　peasants；　smiling　gleefully　at　him。
Rostov　looked　at　the　drunken　peasants；　and　smiled。
“Or　possibly　this　entertains　your　excellency？”　said　Yakov　Alpatitch；　with　a　sober　air；　pointing　with　his　other　hand　to　the　old　peasants。
“No；　there’s　nothing　very　entertaining　in　that；”　said　Rostov；　and　he　moved　away。　“What　is　the　matter？”　he　inquired。
“I　make　bold　to　submit　to　your　excellency　that　the　rude　peasants　here　will　not　let　their　lady　leave　the　estate；　and　threaten　to　take　the　horses　out