战争与和平(上)-第15部分

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ckering　up　his　face。　This　was　an　old　bachelor；　Shinshin；　a　cousin　of　the　countess’s；　famed　in　Moscow　drawing…rooms　for　his　biting　wit。　He　seemed　supercilious　in　his　manner　to　his　companion；　a　fresh；　rosy　officer　of　the　Guards；　irreproachably　washed　and　brushed　and　buttoned。　He　held　his　pipe　in　the　middle　of　his　mouth；　and　drawing　in　a　little　smoke；　sent　it　coiling　in　rings　out　of　his　fine　red　lips。　He　was　Lieutenant　Berg；　an　officer　in　the　Semenovsky　regiment　with　whom　Boris　was　to　go　away；　and　about　whom　Natasha　had　taunted　Vera；　calling　Berg　her　suitor。　The　count　sat　between　these　two　listening　intently　to　them。　The　count’s　favourite　entertainment；　next　to　playing　boston；　of　which　he　was　very　fond；　was　that　of　listening　to　conversation；　especially　when　he　had　succeeded　in　getting　up　a　dispute　between　two　talkative　friends。
“Come；　how　is　it；　mon　très　honorable　Alphonse　Karlitch；”　said　Shinshin；　chuckling；　and　using　a　combination　of　the　most　popular　Russian　colloquialisms　and　the　most　recherchès　French　expressions；　which　constituted　the　peculiarity　of　his　phraseology。　“You　reckon　you’ll　get　an　income　from　the　government；　and　you　want　to　get　a　little　something　from　your　company　too？”
“No；　Pyotr　Nikolaitch；　I　only　want　to　show　that　in　the　cavalry　the　advantages　are　few　as　compared　with　the　infantry。　Consider　my　position　now；　for　instance；　Pyotr　Nikolaitch。”　Berg　talked　very　precisely；　serenely；　and　politely。　All　he　said　was　always　concerning　himself。　He　always　maintained　a　serene　silence　when　any　subject　was　discussed　that　had　no　direct　bearing　on　himself。　And　he　could　be　silent　in　that　way　for　several　hours　at　a　time；　neither　experiencing　nor　causing　in　others　the　slightest　embarrassment。　But　as　soon　as　the　conversation　concerned　him　personally；　he　began　to　talk　at　length　and　with　visible　satisfaction。
“Consider　my　position；　Pyotr　Nikolaitch：　if　I　were　in　the　cavalry；　I　should　get　no　more　than　two　hundred　roubles　every　four　months；　even　at　the　rank　of　lieutenant；　while　as　it　is　I　get　two　hundred　and　thirty；”　he　explained　with　a　beaming；　friendly　smile；　looking　at　Shinshin　and　the　count　as　though　he　had　no　doubt　that　his　success　would　always　be　the　chief　goal　of　all　other　people’s　wishes。　“Besides　that；　Pyotr　Nikolaitch；　exchanging　into　the　Guards；　I’m　so　much　nearer　the　front；”　pursued　Berg；　“and　vacancies　occur　so　much　more　frequently　in　the　infantry　guards。　Then　you　can　fancy　how　well　I　can　manage　on　two　hundred　and　thirty　roubles。　Why；　I’m　putting　by　and　sending　some　off　to　my　father　too；”　he　pursued；　letting　off　a　ring　of　smoke。
“There　is　a　balance。　A　German　will　thrash　wheat　out　of　the　head　of　an　axe；　as　the　Russian　proverb　has　it；”　said　Shinshin；　shifting　his　pipe　to　the　other　side　of　his　mouth　and　winking　to　the　count。
The　count　chuckled。　The　other　visitors　seeing　that　Shinshin　was　talking　came　up　to　listen。　Berg；　without　perceiving　either　their　sneers　or　their　lack　of　interest；　proceeded　to　explain　how　by　exchanging　into　the　guards　he　had　already　gained　a　step　in　advance　of　his　old　comrades　in　the　corps；　how　in　war…time　the　commander　of　a　company　may　so　easily　be　killed；　and　he　as　next　in　command　might　very　easily　succeed　him；　and　how　every　one　in　the　regiment　liked　him；　and　how　pleased　his　father　was　with　him。　Berg　was　unmistakably　enjoying　himself　as　he　told　all　this；　and　seemed　never　to　suspect　that　other　people　too　might　have　their　own　interests。　But　all　he　said　was　so　nice；　so　sedate；　the　na？veté　of　his　youthful　egoism　was　so　undisguised；　that　he　disarmed　his　listeners。
“Well；　my　good　fellow；　whether　you’re　in　the　infantry　or　in　the　cavalry；　you’ll　always　get　on　all　right；　that　I　venture　to　predict；”　said　Shinshin；　patting　him　on　the　shoulder；　and　setting　his　feet　down　off　the　ottoman。　Berg　smiled　gleefully。　The　count　and　the　guests　after　him　went　into　the　drawing…room。
It　was　that　interval　just　before　a　dinner　when　the　assembled　guests　do　not　care　to　enter　on　a　lengthy　conversation；　expecting　to　be　summoned　to　the　dining…room；　while　they　feel　it　incumbent　on　them　to　move　about　and　not　to　be　silent；　so　as　to　show　that　they　are　not　impatient　to　sit　down　to　table。　The　host　and　hostess　look　towards　the　door；　and　occasionally　at　one　another。　The　guests　try　from　these　glances　to　divine　whom　or　what　they　are　waiting　for；　some　important　relation　late　in　arriving；　or　some　dish　which　is　not　ready。
Pierre　arrived　just　at　dinner…time；　and　awkwardly　sat　down　in　the　middle　of　the　drawing…room　in　the　first　easy…chair　he　came　across；　blocking　up　the　way　for　every　one。　The　countess　tried　to　make　him　talk；　but　he　looked　na？vely　round　him　over　his　spectacles　as　though　he　were　looking　for　some　one；　and　replied　in　monosyllables　to　all　the　countess’s　questions。　He　was　in　the　way；　and　was　the　only　person　unaware　of　it。　The　greater　number　of　the　guests；　knowing　the　story　of　the　bear；　looked　inquisitively　at　this　big；　stout；　inoffensive…looking　person；　puzzled　to　think　how　such　a　spiritless　and　staid　young　man　could　have　played　such　a　prank。
“You　have　only　lately　arrived？”　the　countess　asked　him。
“Oui；　madame。”
“You　have　not　seen　my　husband？”
“Non；　madame。”　He　smiled　very　inappropriately。
“You　have　lately　been　in　Paris；　I　believe？　I　suppose　it’s　very　interesting。”
“Very　interesting。”
The　countess　exchanged　glances　with　Anna　Mihalovna。　Anna　Mihalovna　saw　that　she　was　asked　to　undertake　the　young　man；　and　sitting　down　by　him　she　began　talking　of　his　father。　But　to　her　as　to　the　countess　he　replied　only　in　monosyllables。　The　other　guests　were　all　busily　engaged　together。　“The　Razumovskys　…　It　was　very　charming　…　You　are　so　kind　…　Countess　Apraxin　…”　rose　in　murmurs　on　all　sides。　The　countess　got　up　and　went　into　the　reception　hall。
“Marya　Dmitryevna？”　her　voice　was　heard　asking　from　there。
“Herself；”　a　rough　voice　was　heard　in　reply；　and　immediately　after；　Marya　Dmitryevna　walked　into　the　room。　All　the　girls　and　even　the　ladies；　except　the　very　old　ones；　got　up。　Marya　Dmitryevna；　a　stout　woman　of　fifty；　stopped　in　the　doorway；　and　holding　her　head　with　its　grey　curls　erect；　she　looked　down　at　the　guests　and　as　though　tucking　up　her　cuffs；　she　deliberately　arranged　the　wide　sleeves　of　her　gown。　Marya　Dmitryevna　always　spoke　Russian。
“Health　and　happiness　to　the　lady　whose　name…day　we　are　keeping　and　to　her　children；”　she　said　in　her　loud；　rich　voice　that　dominated　all　other　sounds。　“Well；　you　old　sinner；”　she　turned　to　the　count　who　was　kissing　her　hand。　“I　suppose　you　are　tired　of　Moscow—nowhere　to　go　out　with　the　dogs？　Well；　my　good　man；　what’s　to　be　done？　these　nestlings　will　grow　up。…”　She　pointed　to　the　girls。　“Willy…nilly；　you　must　look　out　for　young　men　for　them。”
“Well；　my　Cossack？”　（Marya　Dmitryevna　used　to　call　Natasha　a　Cossack）　she　said；　stroking　the　hand　of　Natasha；　who　came　up　to　kiss　her　hand　gaily　without　shyness。　“I　know　you’re　a　wicked　girl；　but　I　like　you。”
She　took　out　of　her　huge　reticule　some　amber　earrings　with　drops；　and　giving　them　to　Natasha；　whose　beaming　birthday　face　flushed　rosy　red；　she　turned　away　immediately　and　addressed　Pierre。
“Ay；　ay！　come　here；　sir！”　she　said　in　an　intentionally　quiet　and　gentle　voice。　“Come　here；　sir　…”　And　she　tucked　her　sleeve　up　higher　in　an　ominous　manner。
Pierre　went　up；　looking　innocently　at　her　over　his　spectacles。
“Come　along；　come　along；　sir！　I　was　the　only　person　that　told　your　father　the　truth　when　he　was　in　high　favour；　and　in　your　case　it　is　a　sacred　duty。”　She　paused。　Every　one　was　mutely　expectant　of　what　was　to　follow；　feeling　that　this　was　merely　a　prelude。　“A　pretty　fellow；　there’s　no　denying！　a　pretty　fellow！　…　His　father　is　lying　on　his　deathbed；　and　he’s　amusing　himself；　setting　a　police…constable　astride　on　a　bear！　For　shame；　sir；　for　shame！　You　had　better　have　gone　to　the　war。”
She　turned　away　and　gave　her　hand　to　the　count；　who　could　hardly　keep　from　laughing。
“Well；　I　suppose　dinner’s　ready；　eh？”　said　Marya　Dmitrvevna。　The　count　led　the　way　with　Marya　Dmitryevna；　then　followed　the　countess；　taken　in　by　a　colonel　of　hussars；　a　person　of　importance；　as　Nikolay　was　to　travel　in　his　company　to　join　the　regiment；　then　Anna　Mihalovna　with　Shinshin。　Berg　gave　his　arm　to　Vera；　Julie　Karagin　walked　in　smiling　with　Nikolay。　They　were　followed　by　a　string　of　other　couples；　stretching　right　across　the　hall；　and　behind　all；　the　children　with　their　tutors　and　governesses　trooped　in；　walked　singly。　There　was　a　bustle　among　the　waiters　and　a　creaking　of　chairs；　the　orchestra　began　playing；　as　the　guests　took　their　places。　Then　the　strains　of　the　count’s　household　band　were　succeeded　by　the　clatter　of　knives　and　forks；　the　conversation　of　the　guests；　and　the　subdued　tread　of　the　waiters。　The　countess　presided　at　one　end　of　the　table。　On　her　right　was　Marya　Dmitryevna；　on　her　left　Anna　Mihalovna　and　the　other　ladies　of　the　party。　At　the　other　end　sat　the　count；　with　the　colonel　of　hussars　on　his　left；　and　on　his　right　Shinshin　and　the　other　guests　of　the　male　sex。　On　one　side　of　the　large　table　sat　the　more　grown…up　of　the　young　people：　Vera　beside　Berg；　Pierre　beside　Boris。　On　the　other　side　were　the　children　with　their　tutors　and　governesses。　The　count　peeped　from　behind　the　crystal　of　the　decanters　and　fruit…dishes　at　his　wife　and　her　high　cap　with　blue　ribbons；　and　zealously　poured　out　wine　for　his　neighbours；　not　overlooking　himself。　The　countess；　too；　while　mindful　of　her　duties　as　hostess；　cast　significant　glances　from　behind　the　pineapples　at　her　husband；　whose　face　and　bald　head　struck　her　as　looking　particularly　red　against　his　grey　hair。　At　the　ladies’　end　there　was　a　rhythmic　murmur　of　talk；　but　at　the　other　end　of　the　table　the　men’s　voices　grew　louder　and　louder；　especially　the　voice　of　the　colonel　of　hussars；　who；　getting　more　and　more　flushed；　ate　and　drank　so　much　that　the　count　held　him　up　as　a　pattern　to　the　rest。　Berg　with　a　tender　smile　was　telling　Vera　that　love　was　an　emotion　not　of　earth　but　of　heaven。　Boris　was　telling　his　new　friend　Pierre　the　names　of　the　guests；　while　he　exchanged　glances　with　Natasha　sitting　opposite　him。　Pierre　said　little；　looked　about　at　the　new　faces；　and　ate　a　great　deal。　Of　the　two　soups　he　chose　à　la　tortue；　and　from　that　course　to　the