战争与和平(上)-第41章

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　their　heads　at　each　other　in　token　of　their　mutual　affection；　and　parted　with　smiles；　the　German　to　his　cowshed；　and　Rostov　to　the　cottage　he　shared　with　Denisov。
“Where’s　your　master？”　he　asked　of　Lavrushka；　Denisov’s　valet；　well　known　to　all　the　regiment　as　a　rogue。
“His　honour’s　not　been　in　since　the　evening。　He’s　been　losing；　for　sure；”　answered　Lavrushka。　“I　know　by　now；　if　he　wins；　he’ll　come　home　early　to　boast　of　his　luck；　but　if　he’s　not　back　by　morning；　it　means　that　he’s　lost；—he’ll　come　back　in　a　rage。　Shall　I　bring　coffee？”
“Yes；　bring　it。”
Ten　minutes　later；　Lavrushka　brought　in　the　coffee。
“He’s　coming！”　said　he；　“now　for　trouble！”
Rostov　glanced　out　of　the　window　and　saw　Denisov　returning　home。　Denisov　was　a　little　man　with　a　red　face；　sparkling　black　eyes；　tousled　black　whiskers　and　hair。　He　was　wearing　an　unbuttoned　tunic；　wide　breeches　that　fell　in　folds；　and　on　the　back　of　his　head　a　crushed　hussar’s　cap。　Gloomily；　with　downcast　head；　he　drew　near　the　steps。
“Lavrushka；”　he　shouted；　loudly　and　angrily；　lisping　the　r；　“come；　take　it　off；　blockhead！”
“Well；　I　am　taking　it　off；”　answered　Lavrushka’s　voice。
“Ah！　you　are　up　already；”　said　Denisov；　coming　into　the　room。
“Long　ago；”　said　Rostov；　“I’ve　been　out　already　after　hay；　and　I　have　seen　Fr？ulein　Mathilde。”
“Really？　And　I’ve　been　losing；　my　boy；　all　night；　like　the　son　of　a　dog；”　cried　Denisov；　not　pronouncing　his　r’s。　“Such　ill…luck！　such　ill…luck！　…As　soon　as　you　left；　my　luck　was　gone。　Hey；　tea？”
Denisov；　puckering　up　his　face　as　though　he　were　smiling；　and　showing　his　short；　strong　teeth；　began　with　his　short…fingered　hands　ruffling　up　his　thick；　black　hair；　that　was　tangled　like　a　forest。
“The　devil　was　in　me　to　go　to　that　rat”　（the　nickname　of　an　officer）；　he　said；　rubbing　his　brow　and　face　with　both　hands。　“Only　fancy；　he　didn’t　deal　me　one　card；　not　one；　not　one　card！”　Denisov　took　the　lighted　pipe　that　was　handed　to　him；　gripped　it　in　his　fist；　and　scattering　sparks；　he　tapped　it　on　the　floor；　still　shouting。
“He　lets　me　have　the　simple；　and　beats　the　parole；　lets　me　get　the　simple；　and　beats　the　parole。”
He　scattered　the　sparks；　broke　the　pipe；　and　threw　it　away。　Then　Denisov　paused；　and　all　at　once　he　glanced　brightly　at　Rostov　with　his　gleaming　black　eyes。
“If　there　were　only　women。　But　here；　except　drinking；　there’s　nothing　to　do。　If　only　we　could　get　to　fighting　soon。…　Hey；　who’s　there？”　he　called　towards　the　door；　catching　the　sounds　of　thick　boots　and　clanking　spurs　that　came　to　a　stop；　and　of　a　respectful　cough。
“The　sergeant！”　said　Lavrushka。　Denisov　puckered　up　his　face　more　than　ever。
“That’s　a　nuisance；”　he　said；　flinging　down　a　purse　with　several　gold　coins　in　it。　“Rostov；　count；　there’s　a　dear　boy；　how　much　is　left；　and　put　the　purse　under　the　pillow；”　he　said；　and　he　went　out　to　the　sergeant。　Rostov　took　the　money　and　mechanically　sorting　and　arranging　in　heaps　the　old　and　new　gold；　he　began　counting　it　over。
“Ah；　Telyanin！　Good…morning！　I　was　cleaned　out　last　night；”　he　heard　Denisov’s　voice　saying　from　the　other　room。
“Where　was　that？　At　Bykov’s？　At　the　rat’s？　…　I　knew　it；”　said　a　thin　voice；　and　thereupon　there　walked　into　the　room　Lieutenant　Telyanin；　a　little　officer　in　the　same　squadron。
Rostov　put　the　purse　under　the　pillow；　and　shook　the　damp　little　hand　that　was　offered　him。　Telyanin　had　for　some　reason　been　transferred　from　the　guards　just　before　the　regiment　set　out。　He　had　behaved　very　well　in　the　regiment；　but　he　was　not　liked；　and　Rostov；　in　particular；　could　not　endure　him；　and　could　not　conceal　his　groundless　aversion　for　this　officer。
“Well；　young　cavalryman；　how　is　my　Rook　doing　for　you？”　（Rook　was　a　riding…horse　Telyanin　had　sold　to　Rostov。）　The　lieutenant　never　looked　the　person　he　was　speaking　to　in　the　face。　His　eyes　were　continually　flitting　from　one　object　to　another。　“I　saw　you　riding　today　…”
“Oh；　he’s　all　right；　a　good　horse；”　answered　Rostov；　though　the　horse；　for　which　he　had　paid　seven　hundred　roubles；　was　not　worth　half　that　sum。　“He’s　begun　to　go　a　little　lame　in　the　left　foreleg　…”　he　added。
“The　hoof　cracked！　That’s　no　matter。　I’ll　teach　you；　I’ll　show　you　the　sort　of　thing　to　put　on　it。”
“Yes；　please　do；”　said　Rostov。
“I’ll　show　you；　I’ll　show　you；　it’s　not　a　secret。　But　you’ll　be　grateful　to　me　for　that　horse。”
“Then　I’ll　have　the　horse　brought　round；”　said　Rostov；　anxious　to　be　rid　of　Telyanin。　He　went　out　to　order　the　horse　to　be　brought　round。
In　the　outer　room　Denisov　was　squatting　on　the　threshold　with　a　pipe；　facing　the　sergeant；　who　was　giving　him　some　report。　On　seeing　Rostov；　Denisov　screwed　up　his　eyes；　and　pointing　over　his　shoulder　with　his　thumb　to　the　room　where　Telyanin　was　sitting；　he　frowned　and　shook　his　head　with　an　air　of　loathing。
“Ugh！　I　don’t　like　the　fellow；”　he　said；　regardless　of　the　presence　of　the　sergeant。
Rostov　shrugged　his　shoulders　as　though　to　say；　“Nor　do　I；　but　what’s　one　to　do？”　And　having　given　his　order；　he　went　back　to　Telyanin。
The　latter　was　still　sitting　in　the　same　indolent　pose　in　which　Rostov　had　left　him；　rubbing　his　little　white　hands。
“What　nasty　faces　there　are　in　this　world！”　thought　Rostov　as　he　went　into　the　room。
“Well；　have　you　given　orders　for　the　horse　to　be　fetched　out？”　said　Telyanin；　getting　up　and　looking　carelessly　about　him。
“Yes。”
“Well；　you　come　along　yourself。　I　only　came　round　to　ask　Denisov　about　yesterday’s　order。　Have　you　got　it；　Denisov？”
“Not　yet。　But　where　are　you　off　to？”
“I’m　going　to　show　this　young　man　here　how　to　shoe　a　horse；”　said　Telyanin。
They　went　out　down　the　steps　and　into　the　stable。　The　lieutenant　showed　how　to　put　on　the　remedy；　and　went　away　to　his　own　quarters。
When　Rostov　went　back　there　was　a　bottle　of　vodka　and　some　sausage　on　the　table。　Denisov　was　sitting　at　the　table；　and　his　pen　was　squeaking　over　the　paper。　He　looked　gloomily　into　Rostov’s　face。
“I　am　writing　to　her；”　he　said。　He　leaned　his　elbow　on　the　table　with　the　pen　in　his　hand；　and　obviously　rejoiced　at　the　possibility　of　saying　by　word　of　mouth　all　he　meant　to　write；　he　told　the　contents　of　his　letter　to　Rostov。　“You　see；　my　dear　boy；”　he　said；　“we　are　plunged　in　slumber；　we　are　the　children　of　dust　and　ashes；　until　we　love　…　but　love；　and　you　are　a　god；　you　are　pure；　as　on　the　first　day　of　creation。…　Who’s　that　now？　Send　him　to　the　devil！　I’ve　no　time！”　he　shouted　to　Lavrushka；　who；　not　in　the　slightest　daunted；　went　up　to　him。
“Why；　who　should　it　be？　You　told　him　to　come　yourself。　The　sergeant　has　come　for　the　money。”
Denisov　frowned；　seemed　about　to　shout　some　reply；　but　did　not　speak。
“It’s　a　nuisance；”　he　said　to　himself。　“How　much　money　was　there　left　there　in　the　purse？”　he　asked　Rostov。
“Seven　new　and　three　old　gold　pieces。”
“Oh；　it’s　a　nuisance！　Well；　why　are　you　standing　there；　you　mummy？　Send　the　sergeant！”　Denisov　shouted　to　Lavrushka。
“Please；　Denisov；　take　the　money　from　me；　I’ve　plenty；”　said　Rostov；　blushing。
“I　don’t　like　borrowing　from　my　own　friends；　I　dislike　it；”　grumbled　Denisov。
“But　if　you　won’t　take　money　from　me　like　a　comrade；　you’ll　offend　me。　I’ve　really　got　it；”　repeated　Rostov。
“Oh；　no。”　And　Denisov　went　to　the　bed　to　take　the　purse　from　under　the　pillow。
“Where　did　you　put　it；　Rostov？”
“Under　the　lower　pillow。”
“But　it’s　not　there。”　Denisov　threw　both　the　pillows　on　the　floor。　There　was　no　purse。　“Well；　that’s　a　queer　thing。”
“Wait　a　bit；　haven’t　you　dropped　it？”　said　Rostov；　picking　the　pillows　up　one　at　a　time　and　shaking　them。　He　took　off　the　quilt　and　shook　it。　The　purse　was　not　there。
“Could　I　have　forgotten？　No；　for　I　thought　that　you　keep　it　like　a　secret　treasure　under　your　head；”　said　Rostov。　“I　laid　the　purse　here。　Where　is　it？”　He　turned　to　Lavrushka。
“I　never　came　into　the　room。　Where　you　put　it；　there　it　must　be。”
“But　it　isn’t。”
“You’re　always　like　that；　you　throw　things　down　anywhere　and　forget　them。　Look　in　your　pockets。”
“No；　if　I　hadn’t　thought　of　its　being　a　secret　treasure；”　said　Rostov；　“but　I　remember　where　I　put　it。”
Lavrushka　ransacked　the　whole　bed；　glanc