战争与和平(上)-第313章

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sians　with　uneasy　and　timid　faces；　and　Frenchmen　with　a　look　of　the　camp　about　them；　walking　in　the　middle　of　the　road。　Both　looked　at　Pierre　with　surprise。　Apart　from　his　great　height　and　stoutness；　and　the　look　of　gloomy　concentration　and　suffering　in　his　face　and　whole　figure；　Russians　stared　at　Pierre　because　they　could　not　make　out　to　what　class　he　belonged。　Frenchmen　looked　after　him　with　surprise；　because；　while　all　other　Russians　stared　timidly　and　inquisitively　at　them；　Pierre　walked　by　without　noticing　them。　At　the　gates　of　a　house；　three　Frenchmen；　disputing　about　something　with　some　Russians；　who　did　not　understand　their　meaning；　stopped　Pierre　to　ask　whether　he　knew　French。
Pierre　shook　his　head　and　walked　on。　In　another　lane　a　sentinel；　on　guard　by　a　green　caisson；　shouted　at　him；　and　it　was　only　at　the　repetition　of　his　menacing　shout；　and　the　sound　of　his　picking　up　his　gun；　that　Pierre　grasped　that　he　ought　to　have　passed　the　street　on　the　other　side。　He　heard　and　saw　nothing　around　him。　With　haste　and　horror　he　bore　within　him　his　intention　as　something　strange　and　fearful　to　him；　fearing—from　the　experience　of　the　previous　night—to　lose　it。　But　Pierre　was　not　destined　to　carry　his　design　in　safety　to　the　spot　to　which　he　was　bending　his　steps。　Moreover；　if　he　had　not　been　detained　on　the　road；　his　design　could　not　have　been　carried　out；　because　Napoleon　had　four　hours　earlier　left　the　Dorogomilov　suburb；　and　crossed　Arbaty　to　the　Kremlin；　and　he　was　by　then　sitting　in　the　royal　study　in　the　Kremlin　palace　in　the　gloomiest　temper；　giving　circumstantial　orders　for　immediately　extinguishing　the　fires；　preventing　pillage；　and　reassuring　the　inhabitants。　But　Pierre　knew　nothing　of　that；　entirely　engrossed　in　what　lay　before　him；　he　was　suffering　the　anguish　men　suffer　when　they　persist　in　undertaking　a　task　impossible　for　them—not　from　its　inherent　difficulties；　but　from　its　incompatibility　with　their　own　nature。　He　was　tortured　by　the　dread　that　he　would　be　weak　at　the　decisive　moment；　and　so　would　lose　his　respect　for　himself。
Though　he　saw　and　heard　nothing　around　him；　he　instinctively　found　his　way；　and　took　the　right　turning　to　reach　Povarsky。
As　Pierre　got　nearer　to　Povarsky　Street；　the　smoke　grew　thicker　and　thicker；　and　the　air　was　positively　warm　from　the　heat　of　the　conflagration。　Tongues　of　flame　shot　up　here　and　there　behind　the　house…tops。　He　met　more　people　in　the　streets；　and　these　people　were　in　great　excitement。　But　though　Pierre　felt　that　something　unusual　was　happening　around　him；　he　did　not　grasp　the　fact　that　he　was　getting　near　the　fire。　As　he　walked　along　a　path；　across　the　large　open　space　adjoining　on　one　side　Povarsky　Street；　and　on　the　other　side　the　gardens　of　Prince　Gruzinsky；　Pierre　suddenly　heard　close　by　him　the　sound　of　a　woman；　crying　desperately。　He　stood　still；　as　though　awakened　from　a　dream；　and　raised　his　head。
On　the　dried…up；　dusty　grass　on　one　side　of　the　path　lay　heaps　of　household　belongings　piled　up：　feather…beds；　a　samovar；　holy　images；　and　boxes。　On　the　ground；　near　the　boxes；　sat　a　thin　woman；　no　longer　young；　with　long；　projecting　front　teeth；　dressed　in　a　black　cloak　and　cap。　This　woman　was　weeping　violently；　swaying　to　and　fro；　and　muttering　something。　Two　little　girls；　from　ten　to　twelve　years　old；　dressed　in　dirty；　short　frocks　and　cloaks；　were　gazing　at　their　mother；　with　an　expression　of　stupefaction　on　their　pale；　frightened　faces。　A　little　boy　of　seven；　in　a　coat　and　a　huge　cap；　obviously　not　his　own；　was　crying　in　an　old　nurse’s　arms。　A　bare…legged；　dirty　servant…girl　was　sitting　on　a　chest；　she　had　let　down　her　flaxen　hair；　and　was　pulling　out　the　singed　hairs；　sniffing　at　them。　The　husband；　a　short；　stooping　man；　in　a　uniform；　with　little；　wheel…shaped　whiskers；　and　smooth　locks　of　hair；　peeping　out　from　under　his　cap；　which　was　stuck　erect　on　his　head；　was　moving　the　chests　from　under　one　another　with　an　immovable　face；　dragging　garments　of　some　sort　from　under　them。
The　woman　almost　flung　herself　at　Pierre’s　feet　as　soon　as　she　saw　him。
“Merciful　heavens；　good　Christian　folk；　save　me；　help　me；　kind　sir！　…　somebody；　help　me；”　she　articulated　through　her　sobs。　“My　little　girl！　…　My　daughter！　…　My　youngest　girl　left　behind！　…　She’s　burnt！　Oo　…　er！　What　a　fate　I　have　nursed　thee　for　…　Ooo！”
“Hush；　Marya　Nikolaevna；”　the　husband　said　in　a　low　voice　to　his　wife；　evidently　only　to　justify　himself　before　an　outsider。
“Sister　must　have　taken　her；　nothing　else　can　have　happened　to　her！”　he　added。
“Monster；　miscreant！”　the　woman　screeched　furiously；　her　tears　suddenly　ceasing。　“There　is　no　heart　in　you；　you　have　no　feeling　for　your　own　child。　Any　other　man　would　have　rescued　her　from　the　fire。　But　he　is　a　monster；　not　a　man；　not　a　father。　You　are　a　noble　man；”　the　woman　turned　to　Pierre　sobbing　and　talking　rapidly。　“The　row　was　on　fire—they　rushed　in　to　tell　us。　The　girl　screamed：　Fire！　We　rushed　to　get　our　things　out。　Just　as　we　were；　we　escaped。　…　This　is　all　we　could　snatch　up　…　the　blessed　images；　we　look　at　the　children；　and　the　bed　that　was　my　dowry；　and　all　the　rest　is　lost。　Katitchka’s　missing。　Oooo！　O　Lord！　…”　and　again　she　broke　into　sobs。　“My　darling　babe！　burnt！　burnt！”
“But　where；　where　was　she　left？”　said　Pierre。
From　the　expression　of　his　interested　face；　the　woman　saw　that　this　man　might　help　her。
“Good；　kind　sir！”　she　screamed；　clutching　at　his　legs。　“Benefactor；　set　my　heart　at　rest　anyway　…　Aniska；　go；　you　slut；　show　the　way；”　she　bawled　to　the　servant…girl；　opening　her　mouth　wide　in　her　anger；　and　displaying　her　long　teeth　more　than　ever。
“Show　the　way；　show　me；　I　…　I　…　I’ll　do　something；”　Pierre　gasped　hurriedly。
The　dirty　servant…girl　came　out　from　behind　the　box；　put　up　her　hair；　and　sighing；　walked　on　in　front　along　the　path　with　her　coarse；　bare　feet。
Pierre　felt　as　though　he　had　suddenly　come　back　to　life　after　a　heavy　swoon。　He　drew　his　head　up；　his　eyes　began　to　shine　with　the　light　of　life；　and　with　rapid　steps　he　followed　the　girl；　overtook　her；　and　went　into　Povarsky　Street。　The　whole　street　was　full　of　clouds　of　black　smoke。　Tongues　of　flame　shot　up　here　and　there　out　of　these　clouds。　A　great　crowd　had　gathered　in　front　of　the　fire。　In　the　middle　of　the　street　stood　a　French　general；　saying　something　to　those　about　him。　Pierre；　accompanied　by　the　servant…girl；　was　approaching　the　place　where　the　French　general　stood；　but　the　French　soldiers　stopped　him。
“Can’t　pass；”　a　voice　shouted　to　him。
“This　way；　master；”　bawled　the　girl。　“We’ll　cut　across　Nikoliny　by　the　lane。”
Pierre　turned　back；　breaking　into　a　run　now　and　then　to　keep　pace　with　her。　The　girl　ran　across　the　street；　turned　into　a　lane　on　the　left；　and　passing　three　houses；　turned　in　at　a　gate　on　the　right。
“It’s　just　here；”　she　said；　and　running　across　a　yard；　she　opened　a　little　gate　in　a　paling…fence；　and　stopping　short；　pointed　out　to　Pierre　a　small　wooden　lodge；　which　was　blazing　away　brightly。　One　side　of　it　had　fallen　in；　the　other　was　on　fire；　and　flames　peeped　out　at　the　window…holes　and　under　the　roof。
As　Pierre　went　in　at　the　little　gate；　he　felt　the　rush　of　heat；　and　involuntarily　stopped　short。
“Which；　which　is　your　house？”　he　asked。
“Oooh！”　wailed　the　servant…girl；　pointing　to　the　lodge。　“That’s　it；　that　same　was　our　lodging。　Sure；　you’re　burnt　to　death；　our　treasure；　Katitchka；　my　precious　little　missy；　ooh！”　wailed　Aniska；　at　the　sight　of　the　fire　feeling　the　necessity　of　giving　expression　to　her　feelings　too。
Pierre　darted　up　to　the　lodge；　but　the　heat　was　so　great　that　he　could　not　help　describing　a　curve　round　it；　and　found　himself　close　to　a　big　house；　which　was　as　yet　only　on　fire　on　one　side；　at　the　roof。　A　group　of　French　soldiers　were　swarming　round　it。　Pierre　could　not　at　first　make　out　what　these　Frenchmen　were　about；　dragging　something　out　of　the　house。　But　seeing　a　French　soldier　in　front　of　him　beating　a　peasant　with　a　blunt　cutlass；　and　taking　from　him　a　fur…lined　coat；　Pierre　became　vaguely　aware　that　pillaging　was　going　on　here—but　he　had　no　time　to　dwell　on　the　idea。
The　sound　of　the　rumble　and　crash　of　falling　walls　and　ceilings；　the　roar　and　hiss　of　the　flames；