战争与和平(上)-第288章

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possible。　Petya　could　not　be　brought　back　except　by　the　return　of　his　regiment；　or　through　being　transferred　to　another　regiment　on　active　service。　Nikolay　was　somewhere　at　the　front；　and　nothing　had　been　heard　from　him　since　the　letter　in　which　he　had　given　a　detailed　account　of　his　meeting　with　Princess　Marya。　The　countess　could　not　sleep　at　nights；　and　when　she　did　sleep；　she　dreamed　that　her　sons　had　been　killed。　After　much　talking　the　matter　over；　and　many　consultations　of　friends；　the　count　at　last　hit　on　a　means　for　soothing　the　countess。　He　got　Petya　transferred　from　Obolensky’s　regiment　to　Bezuhov’s；　which　was　in　formation　near　Moscow。　Though；　even　so；　Petya　remained　in　the　army；　by　this　exchange　the　countess　had　the　consolation　of　seeing　one　son　at　least　again　under　her　wing；　and　she　hoped　to　manage　not　to　let　her　Petya　escape　her　again；　but　to　succeed　in　getting　him　always　appointed　to　places　where　there　would　be　no　risk　of　his　being　in　battle。　While　Nikolay　had　been　the　only　one　in　danger；　the　countess　had　fancied　（and　had　suffered　some　pricks　of　conscience　on　the　subject）　that　she　loved　her　elder　son　better　than　the　other　children。　But　now　that　her　younger　boy；　the　scapegrace　Petya；　always　idle　at　his　lessons；　always　in　mischief；　and　teasing　every　one；　her　little　Petya；　with　his　snub…nose；　his　merry　black　eyes；　his　fresh　colour；　and　the　soft　down　just　showing　on　his　cheeks；　had　slipped　away　into　the　company　of　those　big；　dreadful；　cruel　men；　who　were　fighting　away　somewhere　about　something；　and　finding　a　sort　of　pleasure　in　it—now　it　seemed　to　the　mother　that　she　loved　him　more；　far　more；　than　all　the　rest。　The　nearer　the　time　came　for　the　return　of　her　longed…for　Petya　to　Moscow；　the　greater　was　the　uneasiness　of　the　countess。　She　positively　thought　she　would　never　live　to　see　such　happiness。　Not　only　Sonya’s　presence；　even　her　favourite　Natasha’s；　even　her　husband’s　company；　irritated　the　countess。　“What　do　I　want　with　them；　I　want　no　one　but　Petya！”　she　thought。　One　day　towards　the　end　of　August；　the　Rostovs　received　a　second　letter　from　Nikolay。　He　wrote　from　the　province　of　Voronezh；　where　he　had　been　sent　to　procure　remounts。　This　letter　did　not　soothe　the　countess。　Knowing　that　one　son　was　out　of　danger；　she　seemed　to　feel　even　greater　alarm　on　Petya’s　account。
Although　by　the　20th　of　August　almost　all　the　Rostovs’　acquaintances　had　left　Moscow；　although　everybody　was　trying　to　persuade　the　countess　to　get　away　as　quickly　as　possible；　she　would　not　hear　of　leaving　till　her　treasure；　her　idolised　Petya；　had　come　back。　On　the　28th　of　August　Petya　arrived。　The　morbidly　passionate　tenderness　with　which　his　mother　received　him　was　by　no　means　gratifying　to　the　sixteen…year…old　officer。　Though　his　mother　concealed　her　intention　of　never　letting　him　escape　from　under　her　wing　again；　Petya　divined　her　plans；　and　instinctively　afraid　of　his　mother’s　making　him　too　soft；　of　her　“making　a　ninny”　of　him　（as　he　expressed　it　in　his　own　mind）；　he　treated　her　rather　coolly；　avoided　being　with　her；　and　during　his　stay　in　Moscow　devoted　himself　exclusively　to　Natasha；　for　whom　he　had　always　had　the　warmest　brotherly　affection；　almost　approaching　adoration。
The　count；　with　his　characteristic　carelessness；　had　by　the　28th　made　no　preparations　for　leaving；　and　the　waggons　that　were　to　come　from　their　Moscow　and　Ryazan　estate　to　remove　all　their　property　out　of　the　house　only　arrived　on　the　30th。
From　the　28th　to　the　31st；　Moscow　was　all　bustle　and　movement。　Every　day　thousands　of　wounded　from　the　field　of　Borodino　were　brought　in　at　the　Dorogomilov　gate　and　conveyed　across　Moscow；　and　thousands　of　vehicles；　full　of　residents　and　their　belongings；　were　driving　out　at　the　gates　on　the　opposite　side　of　the　city。　In　spite　of　Rastoptchin’s　placards—either　arising　independently　of　them；　or　perhaps　in　consequence　of　them—the　strangest　and　most　contradictory　rumours　were　circulating　about　the　town。　Some　said　that　every　one　was　forbidden　to　leave　the　city；　others　asserted　that　all　the　holy　pictures　had　been　taken　from　the　churches；　and　every　one　was　to　be　driven　out　of　Moscow　by　force。　Some　said　there　had　been　another　battle　after　Borodino；　in　which　the　French　had　been　utterly　defeated；　others　declared　that　the　whole　Russian　army　had　been　annihilated。　Some　talked　of　the　Moscow　militia；　which　was　to　advance；　preceded　by　priests；　to　Three　Hills；　others　whispered　that　Father　Augustin　had　been　forbidden　to　leave；　that　traitors　had　been　caught；　that　the　peasants　were　in　revolt；　and　were　plundering　those　who　left　the　town；　and　so　on。　But　all　this　was　only　talk：　in　reality　even　though　the　council　at　Fili；　at　which　it　was　decided　to　abandon　Moscow；　had　not　yet　taken　place；　all—those　who　were　leaving　and　those　who　were　staying—felt　that　Moscow　would　be　surrendered；　though　they　did　not　say　so　freely；　and　felt　that　they　must　make　all　haste　to　escape；　and　to　save　their　property。　There　was　a　feeling　that　there　must　come　a　general　crash　and　change；　yet　till　the　1st　of　September　everything　went　on　unchanged。　Like　a　criminal　being　led　to　the　gallows；　who　knows　in　a　minute　he　must　die；　and　yet　stares　about；　and　puts　straight　the　cap　awry　on　his　head；　Moscow　instinctively　went　on　with　the　daily　routine　of　life；　though　aware　that　the　hour　of　ruin　was　approaching；　when　all　the　customary　conditions　of　life　would　be　at　an　end。
During　the　three　days　preceding　the　occupation　of　Moscow；　the　whole　Rostov　family　was　busily　engaged　in　various　practical　ways。　The　head　of　the　family；　Count　Ilya　Andreitch；　was　continually　driving　about　the　town；　picking　up　all　the　rumours　that　were　in　circulation；　and　while　at　home；　gave　superficial　and　hasty　directions　for　the　preparations　for　departure。
The　countess　superintended　the　sorting　out　of　things　to　be　packed；　she　was　out　of　humour　with　every　one；　and　was　in　continual　pursuit　of　Petya；　who　was　as　continually　escaping　from　her；　and　exciting　her　jealousy　by　spending　all　his　time　with　Natasha。　Sonya　was　the　only　person　who　really　undertook　the　practical　business　of　getting　things　packed。　But　Sonya　had　been　particularly　silent　and　melancholy　of　late。　She　had　been　present　when　Nikolay’s　letter　mentioning　Princess　Marya　had　elicited　the　most　delighted　deductions　from　the　countess；　who　saw　in　Nikolay’s　meeting　with　Princess　Marya　the　direct　intervention　of　Providence。
“I　was　never　really　happy；”　said　the　countess；　“when　Bolkonsky　was　engaged　to　Natasha；　but　I　had　always　longed　for　Nikolay　to　marry　the　princess；　and　I　have　always　had　a　presentiment　about　it。　And　what　a　good　thing　it　would　be！”
Sonya　felt　that　this　was　true；　that　the　only　possibility　of　retrieving　the　Rostovs’　position　was　by　Nikolay’s　marriage　to　an　heiress；　and　that　the　princess　would　be　an　excellent　match　for　him。　But　this　reflection　was　very　bitter　for　her。　In　spite；　or　perhaps　in　consequence；　of　her　sadness；　she　undertook　the　difficult　task　of　seeing　after　the　sorting　and　packing　of　the　household　goods；　and　for　whole　days　together　she　was　busily　employed。　The　count　and　countess　referred　to　her　when　they　had　any　orders　to　give。　Petya　and　Natasha；　on　the　contrary；　did　nothing　to　help　their　parents；　but　were　generally　in　every　one’s　way；　and　were　only　a　hindrance。　And　all　day　long　the　house　resounded　with　their　flying　footsteps　and　shouts　and　shrieks　of　causeless　mirth。　They　laughed　and　were　gay；　not　in　the　least　because　there　was　reason　for　laughter。　But　they　were　gay　and　glad　at　heart；　and　so　everything　that　happened　was　reason　enough　for　gaiety　and　laughter　in　them。　Petya　was　in　high　spirits　because　he　had　left　home　a　boy；　and　come　back　（so　every　one　told　him）　a　fine　young　man；　because　he　was　at　home；　because　he　had　left　Byely　Tserkov；　where　there　seemed　no　hope　of　being　soon　on　active　service；　and　come　to　Moscow　where　there　would　be　fighting　in　a　few　days；　and　above　all；　because　Natasha；　whose　lead　he　always　followed；　was　in　high　spirits。　Natasha　was　gay；　because　she　had　too　long　been　sad；　and　now　nothing　reminded　her　of　the　cause　of　her　sadness；　and　she　was　quite　strong　again。　She　was　gay　too；　because　she　needed　some　one　to　adore　her　（the　adoration　of　others　was　like　the　grease　on　the　wheels；　without　which　her　mechanism　never　worked