战争与和平(上)-第182部分

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After　dinner　the　count　settled　himself　comfortably　in　a　low　chair；　and　with　a　serious　face　asked　Sonya；　who　enjoyed　the　reputation　of　a　good　reader；　to　read　the　Tsar’s　appeal。
“To　our　metropolitan　capital　Moscow。　The　enemy　has　entered　our　border　with　an　immense　host　and　comes　to　lay　waste　our　beloved　country；”　Sonya　read　conscientiously　in　her　thin　voice。　The　count　listened　with　closed　eyes；　heaving　abrupt　sighs　at　certain　passages。
Natasha　sat　erect；　looking　inquisitively　and　directly　from　her　father　to　Pierre。
Pierre　felt　her　eyes　on　him　and　tried　not　to　look　round。　The　countess　shook　her　head　disapprovingly　and　wrathfully　at　every　solemn　expression　in　the　manifesto。　In　all　these　words　she　saw　nothing　but　that　the　danger　menacing　her　son　would　not　soon　be　over。　Shinshin；　pursing　his　lips　up　into　a　sarcastic　smile；　was　clearly　preparing　to　make　a　joke　at　the　first　subject　that　presented　itself：　at　Sonya’s　reading；　the　count’s　next　remark；　or　even　the　manifesto　itself；　if　no　better　pretext　should　be　found。
After　reading　of　the　dangers　threatening　Russia；　the　hopes　the　Tsar　rested　upon　Moscow；　and　particularly　on　its　illustrious　nobility；　Sonya；　with　a　quiver　in　her　voice；　due　principally　to　the　attention　with　which　they　were　listening　to　her；　read　the　last　words：　“We　shall　without　delay　be　in　the　midst　of　our　people　in　the　capital；　and　in　other　parts　of　our　empire；　for　deliberation；　and　for　the　guidance　of　all　our　militia　levies　both　those　which　are　already　barring　the　progress　of　the　foe；　and　those　to　be　formed　for　conflict　with　him；　wherever　he　may　appear。　And　may　the　ruin　with　which　he　threatens　us　recoil　on　his　own　head；　and　may　Europe；　delivered　from　bondage；　glorify　the　name　of　Russia！”
“That’s　right！”　cried　the　count；　opening　his　wet　eyes；　and　several　times　interrupted　by　a　sniff；　as　though　he　had　put　a　bottle　of　strong　smelling…salts　to　his　nose。　He　went　on；　“Only　let　our　sovereign　say　the　word；　we　will　sacrifice　everything　without　grudging。”
Before　Shinshin　had　time　to　utter　the　joke　he　was　ready　to　make　on　the　count’s　patriotism；　Natasha　had　jumped　up　from　her　seat　and　run　to　her　father。
“What　a　darling　this　papa　is！”　she　cried；　kissing　him；　and　she　glanced　again　at　Pierre　with　the　unconscious　coquetry　that　had　come　back　with　her　fresh　interest　in　life。
“Oh；　what　a　patriot　she　is！”　said　Shinshin。
“Not　a　patriot　at　all；　but　simply…”　Natasha　began；　nettled。　“You　think　everything　funny；　but　this　isn’t　at　all　a　joke…”
“A　joke；”　repeated　the　count。　“Only　let　him　say　the　word；　we　will　all　go…　We’re　not　a　set　of　Germans！”
“Did　you　notice；”　said　Pierre；　“the　words；　‘for　deliberation…’　”
“Yes；　to　be　sure；　for　whatever　might　come…”
Meanwhile　Petya；　to　whom　no　one　was　paying　attention；　went　up　to　his　father；　and　very　red；　said　in　a　voice　that　passed　abruptly　from　gruffness　to　shrillness；　“Well；　now；　papa；　I　tell　you　positively—and　mamma　too；　say　what　you　will—I　tell　you　you　must　let　me　go　into　the　army；　because　I　cannot…　and　that’s　all　about　it。”
The　countess　in　dismay　turned　her　eyes　up　to　heaven；　clasped　her　hands；　and　said　angrily　to　her　husband：
“See；　what　your　talk　has　brought　us　to！”
But　the　count　recovered　the　same　instant　from　the　excitement。
“Come；　come；”　he　said。　“A　fine　warrior　you’d　make！　Don’t　talk　nonsense；　you　have　your　studies　to　attend　to。”
“It’s　not　nonsense；　papa。　Fedya　Obolensky’s　younger　than　I　am；　and　he’s　going　too；　and　what’s　more；　I　can’t　anyhow　study　now；　when…”　Petya　stopped；　flushed　till　his　face　was　perspiring；　yet　stoutly　went　on　…　“when　the　country’s　in　danger。”
“Hush；　hush；　nonsense！…”
“Why；　but　you　said　yourself　you　would　sacrifice　everything。”
“Petya！　I　tell　you　be　quiet；”　cried　the　count；　looking　at　his　wife；　who　was　gazing　with　a　white　face　and　fixed　eyes　at　her　younger　son。
“Let　me　say　…Pyotr　Kirillovitch　here　will　tell　you…”
“I　tell　you；　it’s　nonsense；　the　milk’s　hardly　dry　on　his　lips；　and　he　wants　to　go　into　the　army！　Come；　come；　I　tell　you；”　and　the　count；　taking　the　papers　with　him；　was　going　out　of　the　room；　probably　to　read　them　once　more　in　his　study　before　his　nap。
“Pyotr　Kirillovitch；　let　us　have　a　smoke。…”
Pierre　felt　embarrassed　and　hesitating。　Natasha’s　unusually　brilliant　and　eager　eyes；　continually　turned　upon　him　with　more　than　cordiality　in　them；　had　reduced　him　to　this　condition。
“No；　I　think　I’ll　go　home。…”
“Go　home？　But　you　meant　to　spend　the　evening　with　us。…　You　come　rarely　enough；　as　it　is。　And　this　girl　of　mine；”　said　the　count　good…humouredly；　looking　towards　Natasha；　“is　never　in　spirits　but　when　you　are　here。…”
“But　I　have　forgotten　something。　I　really　must　go　home。…　Business。…”　Pierre　said　hurriedly。
“Well；　good…bye　then；”　said　the　count　as　he　went　out　of　the　room。
“Why　are　you　going　away？　Why　are　you　so　upset？　What　for？”　Natasha　asked　Pierre；　looking　with　challenging　eyes　into　his　face。
“Because　I　love　you！”　he　wanted　to　say；　but　he　did　not　say　it。　He　crimsoned　till　the　tears　came；　and　dropped　his　eyes。
“Because　it　is　better　for　me　not　to　be　so　often　with　you。…　Because　…no；　simply　I　have　business。…”
“What　for？　No；　do　tell　me；”　Natasha　was　beginning　resolutely；　and　she　suddenly　stopped。　Both　in　dismay　and　embarrassment　looked　at　one　another。　He　tried　to　laugh；　but　could　not；　his　smile　expressed　suffering；　and　he　kissed　her　hand　and　went　out　without　a　word。
Pierre　made　up　his　mind　not　to　visit　the　Rostovs　again。


Chapter　21
AFTER　THE　UNCOMPROMISING　REFUSAL　he　had　received；　Petya　went　to　his　own　room；　and　there　locking　himself　in；　he　wept　bitterly。　All　his　family　behaved　as　though　they　noticed　nothing　when　he　came　in　to　tea；　silent　and　depressed　with　tear…stained　eyes。
Next　day；　the　Tsar　arrived　in　Moscow。　Several　of　the　Rostovs’　servants　asked　permission　to　go　out　to　see　the　Tsar。　That　morning　Petya　spent　a　long　time　dressing。　He　combed　his　hair　and　arranged　his　collar　like　a　grown…up　man。　He　screwed　up　his　eyes　before　the　looking…glass；　gesticulated；　shrugged　his　shoulders；　and　finally；　without　saying　anything　to　any　one；　he　put　on　his　cap　and　went　out　of　the　house　by　the　back　way；　trying　to　escape　observation。　Petya　had　resolved　to　go　straight　to　where　the　Tsar　was；　and　to　explain　frankly　to　some　gentleman…in…waiting　（Petya　fancied　that　the　Tsar　was　always　surrounded　by　gentlemen…in…waiting）　that　he；　Count　Rostov；　wished；　in　spite　of　his　youth；　to　serve　his　country；　that　youth　could　be　no　hindrance　to　devotion；　and　that　he　was　ready…Petya　had；　while　he　was　dressing；　prepared　a　great　many　fine　speeches　to　make　to　the　gentleman…in…waiting。
Petya　reckoned　on　the　success　of　his　presentation　to　the　Tsar　simply　because　he　was　a　child　（Petya　dreamed；　indeed；　of　how　they　would　wonder　at　his　youth）；　and　yet　in　his　arrangement　of　his　collar；　and　his　hair；　and　in　the　sedate；　deliberate　walk　he　adopted；　he　tried　to　act　the　part　of　an　elderly　man。　But　the　further　he　went；　the　more　interested　he　became　in　the　growing　crowds　about　the　Kremlin；　and　he　forgot　to　keep　up　the　sedateness　and　deliberation　characteristic　of　grown…up　people。　As　he　got　closer　to　the　Kremlin；　he　began　to　try　to　avoid　being　crushed；　and　with　a　resolute　and　threatening　mien；　stuck　elbows　out　on　each　side　of　him。　But　in　spite　of　his　determined　air；　in　the　Toistsky　Gate　the　crowd；　probably　unaware　of　his　patriotic　object　in　going　to　the　Kremlin；　so　pushed　him　against　the　wall；　that　he　was　obliged　to　submit　and　stand　still；　while　carriages　drove　in　with　a　rumbling　sound　under　the　archway。　Near　Petya　stood　a　peasant　woman；　a　footman；　two　merchants；　and　a　discharged　soldier。　After　standing　for　some　time　in　the　gateway；　Petya；　not　caring　to　wait　for　all　the　carriages　to　pass；　tried　to　push　on　before　the　rest；　and　began　resolutely　working　away　with　his　elbows；　but　the　peasant　woman　standing　next　him；　who　was　the　first　person　he　poked；　shouted　angrily　to　him：
“Why　are　you　shoving　away；　little　master？　You　see　everybody’s　standing　still。　What　do　you　want　to　push　for？”
“What；　if　every　one　were　to　push　then！”　said　the　footman；　and　he　too　setting　to　work　with　his　elbows　shoved　Petya　into　the　stinking　corner　of　the　gateway。
Petya　rubbed　the　sweat　off　his　face　with　his　hands；　and　set　straight　the　soaking　collar；　that　he　had　so　carefully　arranged　at　home　like　a　grown…up　person’s。
Petya　felt　that　he　looked　unpresentable；　and　was　afraid　that　if　he　showed　himself　in　this　guise　to　the　gentlemen…in…waiting；　they　would　not　admit　him　to　the　Tsar’s　presence。　But　the　crush　gave　him　no　possibility　of　setting　himself　straight　or　getting　into　another　place。　One　of　the　generals　who　rode　by　was　an　acquaintance　of　the　Rostovs。　Petya　wanted　to　ask　him　for　help；　but　considered　this　would　be　below　his　manly　dignity。　When　all　the　carriages　had　driven　by；　the　crowd　made　a　rush；　and　swept　Petya　along　with　it　into　the　square；　which　was　already　full　of　people。　Not　only　in　the　square；　but　on　the　slopes；　and　the　roofs；　and　everywhere　there　were　crowds　of　people。　As　soon　as　Petya　got　into　the　square；　he　heard　the　ringing　of　bells　and　the　joyous　hum　of　the　crowd　filling　the　whole　Kremlin。
For　a　while　the　crush　was　less　in　the　square；　but　all　at　once　all　heads　were　bared；　and　there　was　another　rush　forward。　Petya　was　so　crushed　that　he　could　hardly　breathe；　and　there　was　a　continual　shouting：　“Hurrah！　hurrah！　hurrah！”
Petya　tip…toed；　pushed；　and　pinched；　but　he　could　see　nothing　but　the　crowd　around　him。
All　the　faces　wore　the　same　expression　of　excitement　and　enthusiasm。　A　shopkeeper’s　wife　standing　near　Petya　sobbed；　and　tears　flowed　down　her　cheeks。
“Father；　angel！”　she　kept　saying；　wiping　her　tears　with　her　fingers。
“Hurrah！”　shouted　the　crowd　on　all　sides。
For　a　minute　the　crowd　remained　stationary；　then　there　was　another　rush　forward。
Petya；　beside　himself　with　excitement；　clenched　his　teeth；　and　rolling　his　eyes　savagely；　rushed　forward；　elbowing　his　way　and　shouting　“Hurrah！”　as　though　he　were　prepared　to　kill　himself　and　every　one　else　at　that　moment；　but　just　as　savage　faces　pushed　on　each　side　of　him　with　the　same　shouts　of　“hurrah！”
“So　this　is　the　Tsar！”　thought　Petya。　“No；　I　could　never　give　him　the　petition　myself；　it　would　be　too　bold！”
In　spite　of　that；　he　still