战争与和平(上)-第9章

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ty　without　which　my　wife　can’t　exist；　and　these　women…If　you　only　knew　what　these　society　women　are；　and；　indeed；　women　generally！　My　father’s　right。　Egoism；　vanity；　silliness；　triviality　in　everything—that’s　what　women　are　when　they　show　themselves　as　they　really　are。　Looking　at　them　in　society；　one　fancies　there’s　something　in　them；　but　there’s　nothing；　nothing；　nothing。　No；　don’t　marry；　my　dear　fellow；　don’t　marry！”　Prince　Andrey　concluded。
“It　seems　absurd　to　me；”　said　Pierre；　“that　you；　you　consider　yourself　a　failure；　your　life　wrecked。　You　have　everything；　everything　before　you。　And　you…”
He　did　not　say　why　you；　but　his　tone　showed　how　highly　he　thought　of　his　friend；　and　how　much　he　expected　of　him　in　the　future。
“How　can　he　say　that？”　Pierre　thought。
Pierre　regarded　Prince　Andrey　as　a　model　of　all　perfection；　because　Prince　Andrey　possessed　in　the　highest　degree　just　that　combination　of　qualities　in　which　Pierre　was　deficient；　and　which　might　be　most　nearly　expressed　by　the　idea　of　strength　of　will。　Pierre　always　marvelled　at　Prince　Andrey’s　faculty　for　dealing　with　people　of　every　sort　with　perfect　composure；　his　exceptional　memory；　his　wide　knowledge　（he　had　read　everything；　knew　everything；　had　some　notion　of　everything）；　and　most　of　all　at　his　capacity　for　working　and　learning。　If　Pierre　were　frequently　struck　in　Andrey　by　his　lack　of　capacity　for　dreaming　and　philosophising　（to　which　Pierre　was　himself　greatly　given）；　he　did　not　regard　this　as　a　defect　but　as　a　strong　point。　Even　in　the　very　warmest；　friendliest；　and　simplest　relations；　flattery　or　praise　is　needed　just　as　grease　is　needed　to　keep　wheels　going　round。
“I　am　a　man　whose　day　is　done；”　said　Prince　Andrey。　“Why　talk　of　me？　let’s　talk　about　you；”　he　said　after　a　brief　pause；　smiling　at　his　own　reassuring　thoughts。　The　smile　was　instantly　reflected　on　Pierre’s　face。
“Why；　what　is　there　to　say　about　me？”　said　Pierre；　letting　his　face　relax　into　an　easy…going；　happy　smile。　“What　am　I？　I　am　a　bastard。”　And　he　suddenly　flushed　crimson。　Apparently　it　was　a　great　effort　to　him　to　say　this。　“With　no　name；　no　fortune。…And　after　all；　really…”　He　did　not　finish。　“Meanwhile　I　am　free　though　and　I’m　content。　I　don’t　know　in　the　least　what　to　set　about　doing。　I　meant　to　ask　your　advice　in　earnest。”
Prince　Andrey　looked　at　him　with　kindly　eyes。　But　in　his　eyes；　friendly　and　kind　as　they　were；　there　was　yet　a　consciousness　of　his　own　superiority。
“You　are　dear　to　me　just　because　you　are　the　one　live　person　in　all　our　society。　You’re　lucky。　Choose　what　you　will；　that’s　all　the　same。　You’ll　always　be　all　right；　but　there’s　one　thing：　give　up　going　about　with　the　Kuragins　and　leading　this　sort　of　life。　It’s　not　the　right　thing　for　you　at　all；　all　this　riotous　living　and　dissipation　and　all…”
“What　would　you　have；　my　dear　fellow？”　said　Pierre；　shrugging　his　shoulders；　“women；　my　dear　fellow；　women。”
“I　can’t　understand　it；”　answered　Andrey。　“Ladies；　that’s　another　matter；　but　Kuragin’s　women；　women　and　wine；　I　can’t　understand！”
Pierre　was　living　at　Prince　Vassily　Kuragin’s；　and　sharing　in　the　dissipated　mode　of　life　of　his　son　Anatole；　the　son　whom　they　were　proposing　to　marry　to　Prince　Andrey’s　sister　to　reform　him。
“Do　you　know　what；”　said　Pierre；　as　though　a　happy　thought　had　suddenly　occurred　to　him；　“seriously；　I　have　been　thinking　so　for　a　long　while。　Leading　this　sort　of　life　I　can’t　decide　on　anything；　or　consider　anything　properly。　My　head　aches　and　my　money’s　all　gone。　He　invited　me　to…night；　but　I　won’t　go。”
“Give　me　your　word　of　honour　that　you　will　give　up　going。”
“On　my　honour！”
It　was　past　one　o’clock　when　Pierre　left　his　friend’s　house。　It　was　a　cloudless　night；　a　typical　Petersburg　summer　night。　Pierre　got　into　a　hired　coach；　intending　to　drive　home。　But　the　nearer　he　got；　the　more　he　felt　it　impossible　to　go　to　bed　on　such　a　night；　more　like　evening　or　morning。　It　was　light　enough　to　see　a　long　way　in　the　empty　streets。　On　the　way　Pierre　remembered　that　all　the　usual　gambling　set　were　to　meet　at　Anatole　Kuragin’s　that　evening；　after　which　there　usually　followed　a　drinking…bout；　winding　up　with　one　of　Pierre’s　favorite　entertainments。
“It　would　be　jolly　to　go　to　Kuragin’s；”　he　thought。　But　he　immediately　recalled　his　promise　to　Prince　Andrey　not　to　go　there　again。
But；　as　so　often　happens　with　people　of　weak　character；　as　it　is　called；　he　was　at　once　overcome　with　such　a　passionate　desire　to　enjoy　once　more　this　sort　of　dissipation　which　had　become　so　familiar　to　him；　that　he　determined　to　go。　And　the　idea　at　once　occurred　to　him　that　his　promise　was　of　no　consequence；　since　he　had　already　promised　Prince　Anatole　to　go　before　making　the　promise　to　Andrey。　Finally　he　reflected　that　all　such　promises　were　merely　relative　matters；　having　no　sort　of　precise　significance；　especially　if　one　considered　that　to…morrow　one　might　be　dead　or　something　so　extraordinary　might　happen　that　the　distinction　between　honourable　and　dishonourable　would　have　ceased　to　exist。　Such　reflections　often　occurred　to　Pierre；　completely　nullifying　all　his　resolutions　and　intentions。　He　went　to　Kuragin’s。
Driving　up　to　the　steps　of　a　big　house　in　the　Horse　Guards’　barracks；　where　Anatole　lived；　he　ran　up　the　lighted　steps　and　the　staircase　and　went　in　at　an　open　door。　There　was　no　one　in　the　ante…room；　empty　bottles；　cloaks；　and　over…shoes　were　lying　about　in　disorder：　there　was　a　strong　smell　of　spirits；　in　the　distance　he　heard　talking　and　shouting。
The　card…playing　and　the　supper　were　over；　but　the　party　had　not　broken　up。　Pierre　flung　off　his　cloak；　and　went　into　the　first　room；　where　there　were　the　remnants　of　supper；　and　a　footman　who；　thinking　himself　unobserved；　was　emptying　the　half…full　glasses　on　the　sly。　In　the　third　room　there　was　a　great　uproar　of　laughter；　familiar　voices　shouting；　and　a　bear　growling。　Eight　young　men　were　crowding　eagerly　about　the　open　window。　Three　others　were　busy　with　a　young　bear；　one　of　them　dragging　at　its　chain　and　frightening　the　others　with　it。
“I　bet　a　hundred　on　Stevens！”　cried　one。
“Mind　there’s　no　holding　him　up！”　shouted　another。
“I’m　for　Dolohov！”　shouted　a　third。　“Hold　the　stakes；　Kuragin。”
“I　say；　let　Mishka　be；　we’re　betting。”
“All　at　a　go　or　the　wager’s　lost！”　cried　a　fourth。
“Yakov；　give　us　a　bottle；　Yakov！”　shouted　Anatole　himself；　a　tall；　handsome　fellow；　standing　in　the　middle　of　the　room；　in　nothing　but　a　thin　shirt；　open　over　his　chest。　“Stop；　gentlemen。　Here　he　is；　here’s　Petrusha；　the　dear　fellow。”　He　turned　to　Pierre。
A　man　of　medium　height　with　bright　blue　eyes；　especially　remarkable　from　looking　sober　in　the　midst　of　the　drunken　uproar；　shouted　from　the　window：　“Come　here。　I’ll　explain　the　bets！”　This　was　Dolohov；　an　officer　of　the　Semenov　regiment；　a　notorious　gambler　and　duellist；　who　was　living　with　Anatole。　Pierre　smiled；　looking　good…humouredly　about　him。
“I　don’t　understand。　What’s　the　point？”
“Wait　a　minute；　he’s　not　drunk。　A　bottle　here；”　said　Anatole；　and　taking　a　glass　from　the　table　he　went　up　to　Pierre。
“First　of　all；　you　must　drink。”
Pierre　began　drinking　off　glass　after　glass；　looking　from　under　his　brows　at　the　drunken　group；　who　had　crowded　about　the　window　again；　and　listening　to　their　talk。　Anatole　kept　his　glass　filled　and　told　him　that　Dolohov　had　made　a　bet　with　an　Englishman；　Stevens；　a　sailor　who　was　staying　here；　that　he；　Dolohov；　would　drink　a　bottle　of　rum　sitting　in　the　third　story　window　with　his　legs　hanging　down　outside。
“Come；　empty　the　bottle；”　said　Anatole；　giving　Pierre　the　last　glass；　“or　I　won’t　let　you　go！”
“No；　I　don’t　want　to；”　said　Pierre；　shoving　Anatole　away；　and　he　went　up　to　the　window。
Dolohov　was　holding　the　Englishman’s　hand　and　explaining　distinctly　the　terms　of　the　bet；　addressing　himself　principally　to　Anatole　and　Pierre。
Dolohov　was　a　man　of　medium　height；　with　curly　hair　and　clear　blue　eyes。　He　was　five…and…twenty。　Like　all　infantry　officers　he　wore　no　moustache；　so　that　his　mouth；　the　most　striking　feature　in　his　face；　was　not　concealed。　The　lines　of　that　mouth　were　extremely　delicately　chiselled。　The　upper　lip　closed　vigorous