战争与和平(上)-第281章

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im；　which　was　beginning　to　assume　too　free　a　character。
He　beckoned　the　senior　generals　to　him。
“Ma　tête；　f？t…elle　bonne　ou　mauvaise；　n’a　qu’à　s’aider　d’elle…même；”　he　said；　getting　up　from　his　bench；　and　he　rode　off　to　Fili；　where　his　carriages　were　waiting。


Chapter　4
IN　THE　LARGE　BEST　ROOM　of　the　peasant　Andrey　Savostyanov’s　cottage；　at　two　o’clock；　a　council　met。　The　men　and　women　and　children　of　the　peasant’s　big　family　all　crowded　together　in　the　room　on　the　other　side　of　the　passage。　Only　Andrey’s　little　grandchild；　Malasha；　a　child　of　six；　whom　his　highness　had　petted；　giving　her　sugar　while　he　drank　his　tea；　stayed　behind　by　the　big　stove　in　the　best　room。　Malasha　peeped　out　from　on　the　stove　with　shy　delight　at　the　faces；　the　uniforms；　and　the　crosses　of　the　generals；　who　kept　coming　into　the　room　one　after　another；　and　sitting　in　a　row　on　the　broad　benches　in　the　best　corner　under　the　holy　images。　“Granddad”　himself；　as　Malasha　in　her　own　mind　called　Kutuzov；　was　sitting　apart　from　the　rest　in　the　dark　corner　behind　the　stove。　He　sat　sunk　all　of　a　heap　in　a　folding　armchair；　and　was　continually　clearing　his　throat　and　straightening　the　collar　of　his　coat；　which；　though　it　was　unbuttoned；　still　seemed　to　gall　his　neck。　The　generals；　as　they　came　in　one　after　another；　walked　up　to　the　commander…in…chief：　he　shook　hands　with　some；　to　others　he　merely　nodded。
The　adjutant；　Kaisarov；　would　have　drawn　back　a　curtain　from　the　window　facing　Kutuzov；　but　the　latter　shook　his　hand　angrily　at　him；　and　Kaisarov　saw　that　his　highness　did　not　care　for　them　to　see　his　face。
Round　the　peasant’s　deal　table；　on　which　lay　maps；　plans；　pencils；　and　papers；　there　was　such　a　crowd　that　the　orderlies　brought　in　another　bench；　and　set　it　near　the　table。　Yermolov；　Kaisarov；　and　Toll　seated　themselves　on　this　bench。　In　the　foremost　place；　under　the　holy　images；　sat　Barclay　de　Tolly；　with　his　Order　of　St。　George　on　his　neck；　with　his　pale；　sickly　face　and　high　forehead　that　met　his　bald　head。　He　had　been　in　the　throes　of　fever　for　the　last　two　days；　and　was　shivering　and　shaking　now。　Beside　him　sat　Uvarov；　speaking　to　him　with　rapid　gesticulations　in　the　same　low　voice　in　which　everybody　spoke。　Little　chubby　Dohturov　was　listening　attentively　with　his　eyebrows　raised　and　his　hands　clasped　over　his　stomach。　On　the　other　side；　resting　his　broad　head　on　his　hand；　sat　Count　Osterman…Tolstoy；　with　his　bold　features　and　brilliant　eyes；　apparently　plunged　in　his　own　thoughts。　Raevsky　sat　twisting　his　black　curls　on　his　temples；　as　he　always　did；　and　looking　with　impatience　from　Kutuzov　to　the　door。　Konovnitsyn’s　firm；　handsome；　good…humoured　face　was　bright　with　a　sly　and　kindly　smile。　He　caught　Malasha’s　eye；　and　made　signs　to　her　with　his　eyes；　that　set　the　little　girl　smiling。
They　were　all　waiting　for　Bennigsen；　who；　on　the　pretext　of　a　fresh　inspection　of　the　position；　was　engaged　in　finishing　his　luxurious　dinner。　They　waited　for　him　from　four　to　six　o’clock；　and　all　that　time　did　not　enter　on　their　deliberations；　but　talked　of　extraneous　matters　in　subdued　tones。
Only　when　Bennigsen　had　entered　the　hut；　Kutuzov　moved　out　of　his　corner　and　came　up　to　the　table；　but　sat　there　so　that　his　face　did　not　come　within　the　light　of　the　candles　on　it。
Bennigsen　opened　the　council　by　the　question：　Whether　to　abandon　the　holy　and　ancient　capital　of　Russia；　or　to　defend　it？
A　prolonged　silence　followed。　Every　face　was　knitted；　and　in　the　stillness　Kutuzov　could　be　heard　angrily　coughing　and　clearing　his　throat。　All　eyes　were　fixed　on　him。　Malasha　too　gazed　at　“Granddad。”
She　was　nearest　of　all　to　him；　and　saw　that　his　face　was　working；　he　seemed　to　be　going　to　cry。　But　that　did　not　last　long。
“The　holy　and　ancient　capital　of　Russia！”　he　cried　suddenly；　in　a　wrathful　voice；　repeating　Bennigsen’s　words；　and　thereby　underlining　the　false　note　in　them。　“Allow　me　to　tell　your　excellency　that　that　question　has　no　meaning　to　a　Russian。”　（He　lurched　his　unwieldy　figure　forward。）　“Such　a　question　cannot　be　put；　there　is　no　sense　in　such　a　question。　The　question　I　have　asked　these　gentlemen　to　meet　to　discuss　is　the　question　of　the　war。　The　question　is：　The　safety　of　Russia　lies　in　her　army。　Is　it　better　to　risk　the　loss　of　the　army　and　of　Moscow　by　giving　battle；　or　to　abandon　Moscow　without　a　battle？　That　is　the　question　on　which　I　desire　to　learn　your　opinion。”　He　lurched　back　into　his　low　chair　again。
A　debate　began。　Bennigsen　did　not　yet　consider　that　the　game　was　lost。　Overruled　by　the　opinion　of　Barclay　and　others　in　admitting　the　impossibility　of　maintaining　a　defensive　position　at　Fili；　he　proceeded　to　prove　his　Russian　patriotism　and　devotion　to　Moscow　by　proposing　to　move　the　army　during　the　night　from　the　right　to　the　left　flank　of　the　position；　and　to　aim　a　blow　at　the　French　right　flank　next　day。　Opinions　were　divided；　and　arguments　were　advanced　for　and　against　this　project。　Yermolov；　Dohturov；　and　Raevsky　sided　with　Bennigsen。　Led　by　a　feeling　that　a　sacrifice　was　called　for　before　abandoning　the　city；　and　by　other　personal　considerations；　these　generals　seemed　unable　to　grasp　that　the　council　then　sitting　could　not　affect　the　inevitable　course　of　events；　and　that　Moscow　was　already　in　effect　abandoned。　The　other　generals　understood　this；　and　leaving　the　question　of　Moscow　on　one　side；　talked　of　the　direction　the　army　ought　to　take　in　retreating。
Malasha；　who　kept　her　eyes　fixed　on　what　was　passing　before　her；　saw　the　council　in　quite　a　different　light。　It　seemed　to　her　that　the　whole　point　at　issue　was　a　personal　struggle　between　“Granddad”　and　“Longcoat；”　as　she　called　Bennigsen　to　herself。　She　saw　that　they　were　angry　when　they　spoke　to　one　another；　and　in　her　heart　she　was　on　“Granddad’s”　side。　In　the　middle　of　the　conversation；　she　caught　the　swift；　subtle　glance　that　“Granddad”　gave　Bennigsen；　and　immediately　after　she　noted　with　glee　that　“Granddad’s”　words　had　put　“Longcoat”　down。　Bennigsen　suddenly　flushed；　and　strode　angrily　across　the　room。　The　words　that　had　thus　affected　Bennigsen　were　Kutuzov’s　quietly　and　softly　uttered　comment　on　his　proposal　to　move　the　troops　from　the　right　to　the　left　flank　in　the　night　in　order　to　attack　the　French　right。
“I　cannot　approve　of　the　count’s　plan；　gentlemen；”　said　Kutuzov。　“Movements　of　troops　in　close　proximity　to　the　enemy　are　always　risky；　and　military　history　affords　many　examples　of　disasters　arising　from　them。　For　instance　…”　（Kutuzov　seemed　to　ponder；　seeking　an　example；　and　then　looking　with　a　frank；　na？ve　expression　at　Bennigsen）　…　“well；　the　battle　of　Friedland；　which；　as　I　have　no　doubt　the　count　remembers；　was　not　…　completely　successful　owing　to　the　change　of　the　position　of　the　troops　in　too　close　proximity　to　the　enemy　…”
A　momentary　silence　followed　that　seemed　lengthy　to　all。
The　debate　was　renewed；　but　pauses　often　interrupted　it；　and　it　was　felt　that　there　was　nothing　to　talk　about。
In　one　of　these　pauses　Kutuzov　heaved　a　heavy　sigh；　as　though　preparing　to　speak。　All　looked　round　at　him。
“Well；　gentlemen；　I　see　that　it　is　I　who　will　have　to　pay　for　the　broken　pots；”　he　said。　And　slowly　rising　from　his　seat；　he　walked　up　to　the　table。　“Gentlemen；　I　have　heard　your　opinions。　Some　of　you　will　not　agree　with　me。　But　I”　（he　stopped）；　“by　the　authority　intrusted　me　by　my　Tsar　and　my　country；　give　the　order　to　retire。”
After　that　the　generals　began　to　disperse　with　the　solemnity　and　circumspect　taciturnity　with　which　people　separate　after　a　funeral。　Several　of　the　generals　made　some　communication　to　the　commander…in…chief　in　a　low　voice；　pitched　in　quite　a　different　scale　from　that　in　which　they　had　been　talking　at　the　council。
Malasha；　who　had　long　been　expected　in　the　other　room　to　supper；　dropped　backwards　down　from　the　stove；　her　bare　toes　clinging　to　the　projections　of　the　stove；　and　slipping　between　the　generals’　legs；　she　darted　out　at　the　door。
After　dismissing　the　generals；　Kutuzov　sat　a　long　while　with　his　elbows　on　the　table；　pondering　that　terrible　question：　“When；　when　had　it　become　inevitable　that　Moscow　should　be　abandoned？　When　was　the　thing　done　that　made　it　inevitable；　and　who　is　to　blame　for