战争与和平(上)-第255章

按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！


certainly　a　credit　to　them。　And　the　populace；　too；　is　in　complete　revolt；　they　won’t　obey　any　one　now；　even　my　maid　has　begun　to　be　insolent。　If　it　goes　on　like　this；　they　will　soon　begin　killing　us。　One　can’t　walk　about　the　streets。　And　the　worst　of　it　is；　in　another　day　or　two　the　French　will　be　here。　Why　are　we　waiting　for　them？　One　favour　I　beg　of　you；　mon　cousin；”　said　the　princess；　“give　orders　for　me　to　be　taken　to　Petersburg；　whatever　I　may　be；　any　way　I　can’t　live　under　Bonaparte’s　rule。”
“But　what　nonsense；　ma　cousine！　where　do　you　get　your　information　from？　On　the　contrary　…”
“I’m　not　going　to　submit　to　your　Napoleon。　Other　people　may　do　as　they　like。…　If　you　won’t　do　this　for　me　…”
“But　I　will；　I’ll　give　orders　for　it　at　once。”
The　princess　was　obviously　annoyed　at　having　no　one　to　be　angry　with。　Muttering　something；　she　sat　down　on　the　edge　of　the　chair。
“But　you　have　been　incorrectly　informed；”　said　Pierre。　“All’s　quiet　in　the　town；　and　there’s　no　sort　of　danger。　See　I　have　just　read　…”　Pierre　showed　the　princess　the　placards。　“The　count　writes　that　he　will　stake　his　life　on　it　that　the　enemy　will　never　be　in　Moscow。”
“Ah；　your　count；”　the　princess　began　spitefully；　“he’s　a　hypocrite；　a　miscreant　who　has　himself　stirred　the　mob　on　to　disorder。　Didn’t　he　write　in　his　idiotic　placards　that　they　were　to　take　anybody　whoever　it　might　be　and　drag　by　the　hair　to　the　lock…up　（and　how　silly　it　is！）。　Honour　our　and　glory；　says　he；　to　the　man　who　does　so。　And　this　is　what　he　has　brought　us　to。　Varvara　Ivanovna　told　me　the　mob　almost　killed　her　for　speaking　French。”
“Oh；　well；　well　…　You　take　everything　too　much　to　heart；”　said　Pierre；　and　he　began　dealing　out　the　patience。
Although　he　did　succeed　in　the　game；　Pierre　did　not　set　off　to　join　the　army；　but　stayed　on　in　Moscow；　now　rapidly　emptying；　and　was　still　in　the　same　agitation；　uncertainty　and　alarm；　and；　at　the　same　time；　joyful　expectation　of　something　awful。
Next　day　the　princess　set　off　in　the　evening；　and　Pierre’s　head…steward　came　to　inform　him　that　it　was　impossible　to　raise　the　money　he　required　for　the　equipment　of　his　regiment　unless　he　sold　one　of　his　estates。　The　head…steward　impressed　on　Pierre　generally　that　all　this　regimental　craze　would　infallibly　bring　him　to　ruin。　Pierre　could　hardly　conceal　a　smile　as　he　listened　to　the　head…steward。
“Well；　sell　it　then；”　he　said。　“There’s　no　help　for　it；　I　can’t　draw　back　now！”
The　worse　the　position　of　affairs；　and　especially　of　his　own　affairs；　the　better　pleased　Pierre　felt；　and　the　more　obvious　it　was　to　him　that　the　catastrophe　he　expected　was　near　at　hand。　Scarcely　any　of　Pierre’s　acquaintances　were　left　in　the　town。　Julie　had　gone；　Princess　Marya　had　gone。　Of　his　more　intimate　acquaintances　the　Rostovs　were　the　only　people　left；　but　Pierre　did　not　go　to　see　them。
To　divert　his　mind　that　day；　Pierre　drove　out　to　the　village　of　Vorontsovo；　to　look　at　a　great　air　balloon　which　was　being　constructed　by　Leppich　to　use　against　the　enemy；　and　the　test　balloon　which　was　to　be　sent　up　the　following　day。　The　balloon　was　not　yet　ready；　but　as　Pierre　learned；　it　was　being　constructed　by　the　Tsar’s　desire。　The　Tsar　had　written　to　Count　Rastoptchin　about　it　in　the　following　terms：
“As　soon　as　Leppich　is　ready；　get　together　a　crew　for　his　car　consisting　of　thoroughly　trustworthy　and　intelligent　men；　and　send　a　courier　to　General　Kutuzov　to　prepare　him　for　it。　I　have　mentioned　it　to　him。　Impress　upon　Leppich；　please；　to　take　careful　note　where　he　descends　the　first　time；　that　he　may　not　go　astray　and　fall　into　the　hands　of　the　enemy。　It　is　essential　that　he　should　regulate　his　movements　in　accordance　with　the　movements　of　the　commander…in…chief。”
On　his　way　home　from　Vorontsovo；　Pierre　drove　through　Bolotny　Square；　and　seeing　a　crowd　at　Lobnoye　Place；　stopped　and　got　out　of　his　chaise。　The　crowd　were　watching　the　flogging　of　a　French　cook；　accused　of　being　a　spy。　The　flogging　was　just　over；　and　the　man　who　had　administered　it　was　untying　from　the　whipping…post　a　stout；　red…whiskered　man　in　blue　stockings　and　a　green　tunic；　who　was　groaning　piteously。　Another　victim；　a　thin；　pale　man；　was　standing　by。　Both；　to　judge　by　their　faces；　were　Frenchmen。　With　a　face　of　sick　dread　like　that　of　the　thin　Frenchman；　Pierre　pushed　his　way　in　among　the　crowd。
“What　is　it？　Who　are　they？　What　for？”　he　kept　asking。　But　the　attention　of　the　crowd—clerks；　artisans；　shopkeepers；　peasants；　women　in　pelisses　and　jackets—was　so　intently　riveted　on　what　was　taking　place　on　the　Lobnoye　Place　that　no　one　answered。　The　stout　man　got　up；　shrugged　his　shoulders　frowning；　and　evidently　trying　to　show　fortitude；　began　putting　on　his　tunic　without　looking　about　him。　But　all　at　once　his　lips　quivered　and　to　his　own　rage　he　began　to　cry；　as　grown…up　men　of　sanguine　temperament　do　cry。　The　crowd　began　talking　loudly；　to　drown　a　feeling　of　pity　in　themselves；　as　it　seemed　to　Pierre。
“Some　prince’s　cook。　…”
“Eh；　monsieur；　Russian　sauce　is　a　bit　strong　for　a　French　stomach　…　sets　the　teeth　on　edge；”　said　a　wrinkled　clerk　standing　near　Pierre；　just　when　the　Frenchman　burst　into　tears。　The　clerk　looked　about　him　for　signs　of　appreciation　of　his　jest。　Several　persons　laughed；　but　some　were　still　gazing　in　dismay　at　the　man　who　was　undressing　the　second　Frenchman　and　about　to　flog　him。
Pierre　choked；　scowled；　and　turning　quickly；　went　back　to　his　chaise；　still　muttering　something　to　himself　as　he　went；　and　took　his　seat　in　it。　During　the　rest　of　the　way　he　several　times　started；　and　cried　out　so　loudly　that　the　coachman　at　last　asked　him　what　he　desired。
“Where　are　you　driving？”　Pierre　shouted　to　the　coachman　as　he　drove　to　Lubyanka。
“You　told　me　to　drive　to　the　governor’s；”　answered　the　coachman。
“Fool！　dolt！”　shouted　Pierre；　abusing　his　coachman；　a　thing　he　very　rarely　did。　“I　told　you　home；　and　make　haste；　blockhead！　This　very　day　I　must　set　off；”　Pierre　said　to　himself。
At　the　sight　of　the　tortured　Frenchman　and　the　crowd　round　the　Lobnoye　Place；　Pierre　had　so　unhesitatingly　decided　that　he　could　stay　no　longer　in　Moscow；　and　must　that　very　day　set　off　to　join　the　army；　that　it　seemed　to　him　either　that　he　had　told　the　coachman　so；　or　that　the　coachman　ought　to　know　it　of　himself。
On　reaching　home　Pierre　told　his　omniscient　and　omnipotent　head…coachman；　Yevstafitch；　who　was　known　to　all　Moscow；　that　he　was　going　to　drive　that　night　to　Mozhaisk　to　the　army；　and　gave　orders　for　his　saddle　horses　to　be　sent　on　there。　All　this　could　not　be　arranged　in　one　day；　and　therefore　by　Yevstafitch’s　representations　Pierre　was　induced　to　defer　his　departure　till　next　day　to　allow　time　for　relays　of　horses　to　be　sent　on　ahead。
The　24th　was　a　bright　day　after　a　spell　of　bad　weather；　and　after　dinner　on　that　day　Pierre　set　out　from　Moscow。　Changing　horses　in　the　night　at　Perhushkovo；　Pierre　learned　that　a　great　battle　had　been　fought　that　evening。　He　was　told　that　the　earth　had　been　vibrating　there　at　Perhushkovo　from　the　cannon。　No　one　could　answer　Pierre’s　question　whether　the　battle　was　a　victory　or　a　defeat。　This　was　the　battle　of　the　24th　at　Shevardino。　Towards　dawn　Pierre　approached　Mozhaisk。
Troops　were　quartered　in　all　the　houses　in　Mozhaisk；　and　at　the　inn；　where　Pierre　was　met　by　his　coachman　and　postillion；　there　was　not　a　room　to　spare；　the　whole　place　was　full　of　officers。
From　Mozhaisk　onwards　troops　were　halting　or　marching　everywhere。　Cossacks；　foot　soldiers；　horse　soldiers；　waggons；　gun…carriages；　and　cannons　were　everywhere。
Pierre　pushed　on　as　fast　as　possible；　and　the　further　he　got　and　the　more　deeply　he　plunged　into　this　ocean　of　soldiers；　the　stronger　became　the　thrill　of　uneasiness　and　of　a　new　pleasurable　sensation。　It　was　a　feeling　akin　to　what　he　had　felt　at　the　Slobodsky　Palace　on　the　Tsar’s　visit；　a　sense　of　the　urgent　necessity　of　taking　some　step　and　making　some　sacrifice。　He　was　conscious　now　of　a　glad　sense　that　all　that　constitutes　the　happiness　of　life；　comfort；　wealth；　even　life　itself；　were　all　dust　and　ashes；　which　it　was　a　joy　to　fling　away　in　comparison　with　something　else。　…　What　that　something　else　was　Pierre　could　not　have　said；　and　indeed　he　did