战争与和平(上)-第183部分

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“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　forced　his　way　forward　as　desperately；　and　over　the　backs　of　those　in　front　of　him　caught　a　glimpse　of　open　space　with　a　passage　covered　with　red　cloth　in　the　midst　of　it。　But　at　that　moment　the　crowd　began　heaving　back；　the　police　in　front　were　forcing　back　those　who　had　pressed　too　close　to　the　procession。　The　Tsar　was　passing　from　the　palace　to　the　Uspensky　Sobor。　Petya　received　such　a　sudden　blow　in　the　ribs；　and　was　so　squeezed；　that　all　at　once　a　mist　passed　before　his　eyes；　and　he　lost　consciousness。　When　he　came　to　himself；　a　clerical　personage；　with　a　mane　of　grey　hair　on　his　shoulders；　in　a　shabby　blue　cassock—probably　a　deacon—was　holding　him　up　with　one　arm；　while　with　the　other　he　kept　off　the　crowd。
“A　young　gentleman’s　been　crushed！”　the　deacon　was　saying；　“Mind　what　you’re　about！…easy　there！…you’re　crushing　him；　you’re　crushing　him！”
The　Tsar　had　entered　the　Uspensky　Sobor。　The　crowd　spread　out　again；　and　the　deacon　got　Petya　pale　and　breathless　on　to　the　big　cannon。　Several　persons　pitied　Petya；　and　suddenly　quite　a　crowd　noticed　his　plight；　and　began　to　press　round　him。　Those　who　were　standing　near　him　looked　after　him；　unbuttoned　his　coat；　sat　him　on　the　highest　part　of　the　cannon；　and　scolded　those　who　were　squeezing　too　close　to　him。
“Any　one　may　be　crushed　to　death　like　that。　What　next！　Killing　people！　Why；　the　poor　dear’s　as　white　as　a　sheet；”　said　voices。
Petya　soon　recovered；　and　the　colour　came　back　into　his　face；　the　pain　was　over；　and　by　this　temporary　inconvenience　he　had　gained　a　seat　on　the　cannon；　from　which　he　hoped　to　see　the　Tsar；　who　was　to　walk　back。　Petya　thought　no　more　now　of　presenting　his　petition。　If　only　he　could　see　him；　he　would　think　himself　lucky！　During　the　service　in　the　Uspensky　Sobor；　in　celebration　of　the　Tsar’s　arrival；　and　also　in　thanks…giving　for　the　peace　with　the　Turks；　the　crowd　dispersed　about　the　square；　and　hawkers　appeared　crying　kvass；　gingerbread；　and　poppy…seed　sweets—of　which　Petya　was　particularly　fond—and　he　could　hear　the　usual　talk　among　the　people。　One　shopkeeper’s　wife　was　showing　her　torn　shawl；　and　saying　how　much　she　had　paid　for　it；　while　another　observed　that　all　silk　things　were　very　dear　nowadays。　The　deacon　who　had　rescued　Petya　was　talking　to　a　clerk　of　the　different　priests　who　were　taking　part　in　the　service　to…day　with　the　most　reverend　bishop。　The　deacon　several　times　repeated　the　word　“soborne；”　which　Petya　did　not　understand。　Two　young　artisans　were　joking　with　some　servant…girls；　cracking　nuts。　All　these　conversations；　especially　the　jokes　with　the　servant…girls—which　would　have　seemed　particularly　attractive　at　his　age　to　Petya—did　not　interest　him　now。　He　sat　on　his　high　perch　on　the　cannon；　still　in　the　same　excitement　at　the　thought　of　the　Tsar　and　his　love　for　him。　The　blending　of　the　feeling　of　pain　and　fright　when　he　was　crushed　with　the　feeling　of　enthusiasm　intensified　his　sense　of　the　gravity　of　the　occasion。
Suddenly　cannon　shots　were　heard　from　the　embankment—the　firing　was　in　celebration　of　the　peace　with　the　Turks—and　the　crowd　made　a　dash　for　the　embankment　to　see　the　firing。　Petya；　too；　would　have　liked　to　run　there；　but　the　deacon；　who　had　taken　the　young　gentleman　under　his　protection；　would　not　let　him。　The　firing　still　continued；　when　officers；　generals；　and　gentlemen…in…waiting　came　running　out　of　the　Uspensky　Sobor。　Then　others　came　out　with　less　haste；　and　again　caps　were　lifted；　and　those　who　had　run　to　look　at　the　cannons　ran　back。　At　last　four　men　in　uniforms　and　decorations　came　out　from　the　doors　of　the　Sobor。　“Hurrah！　hurrah！”　the　crowd　shouted　again。
“Which？　which　one？”　Petya　asked　in　a　weeping　voice　of　those　around　him；　but　no　one　answered　him。　Every　one　was　too　much　excited；　and　Petya；　picking　out　one　of　the　four；　and　hardly　able　to　see　him　for　the　tears　that　started　into　his　eyes；　concentrated　all　his　enthusiasm　on　him；　though　it　happened　not　to　be　the　Tsar。　He　shouted　“Hurrah！”　in　a　voice　of　frenzy；　and　resolved　that　to…morrow；　come　what　might　of　it；　he　would　join　the　army。　The　crowd　ran　after　the　Tsar；　accompanied　him　to　the　palace；　and　began　to　disperse。　It　was　late；　and　Petya　had　had　nothing　to　eat；　and　the　sweat　was　dripping　from　his　face。　But　he　did　not　go　home。　He　remained　with　a　smaller；　though　still　considerable；　crowd　before　the　palace　during　the　Tsar’s　dinner…time。　He　gazed　up　at　the　palace　windows；　expecting　something　to　happen；　and　envying　equally　the　grand　personages　who　drove　up　to　the　entrance　to　dine　with　the　Tsar；　and　the　footmen　waiting　at　table；　of　whom　he　caught　glimpses　at　the　window。
At　the　Tsar’s　dinner；　Valuev　said；　looking　out　of　the　window：
“The　people　are　still　hoping　to　get　a　sight　of　your　majesty。”
The　dinner　was　almost　over；　the　Tsar　got　up；　and　still　munching　a　biscuit；　came　out　on　the　balcony。　The　crowd；　with　Petya　in　the　midst；　rushed　towards　the　balcony。
“Angel；　father！　Hurrah！”　…shouted　the　crowd；　and　with　it　Petya。　And　again　women；　and；　in　a　less　degree　some　men—among　them　Petya—shed　tears　of　happiness。
A　good　sized　piece　of　the　biscuit　in　the　Tsar’s　hand　broke　off；　fell　on　the　balcony　railing；　and　from　the　railing　to　the　ground。　A　coachman　in　a　jerkin；　who　stood　nearest；　pounced　on　the　piece　of　biscuit　and　snatched　it　up。　Several　persons　rushed　at　the　coachman。　Noticing　this　the　Tsar　asked　for　a　plate　of　biscuits；　and　began　dropping　them　from　the　balcony。　Petya’s　eyes　almost　started　out　of　his　head；　the　danger　of　being　crushed　excited　him　more　than　ever；　and　he　rushed　at　the　biscuits。　He　did　not　know　why；　but　he　felt　he　must　have　a　biscuit　from　the　Tsar’s　hands；　and　he　must　not　give　in。　He　made　a　dash　and　upset　an　old　woman；　who　was　just　about　to　seize　a　biscuit。　But　the　old　woman　refused　to　consider　herself　beaten；　though　she　was　on　the　ground；　she　snatched　at　the　biscuits　on　her　hands　and　knees。　Petya　pushed　her　hand　away　with　his　knee；　snatched　up　a　biscuit；　and　as　though　afraid　of　being　late；　hastily　shouted　again；　“Hurrah！”　in　a　hoarse　voice。
The　Tsar　went　in；　and　after　that　the　greater　part　of　the　crowd　dispersed。
“There；　I　said　if　only　we　waited—and　so　it　was；”　was　the　delighted　comment　on　various　sides　in　the　crowd。
Happy　as　Petya　was；　he　felt　sad　to　go　home；　and　to　feel　that　all　the　enjoyment　of　that　day　was　over。　From　the　Kremlin；　Petya　went　not　home；　but　to　his　comrade　Obolensky’s。　He　was　fifteen；　and　he；　too；　was　going　into　the　army。　On　getting　home；　Petya　announced　with　decision　and　firmness　that　if　they　would　not　let　him　do　so　too；　he　would　run　away。　And　next　day；　though　Count　Ilya　Andreitch　had　not　quite　yielded；　he　went　to　inquire　if　a　commission　could　be　obtained　for　Petya　somewhere　where　there　would　be　little　danger。


Chapter　22
ON　THE　MORNING　of　the　15th；　the　next　day　but　one；　a　great　number　of　carriages　stood　outside　the　Slobodsky　palace。
The　great　halls　were　full。　In　the　first　were　the　noblemen　in　their　uniforms；　in　the　second　there　were　merchants　with　medals　and　long　beards；　wearing　blue；　full…skirted　coats。　The　first　room　was　full　of　noise　and　movement。　The　more　important　personages　were　sitting　on　high…backed　chairs　at　a　big　table　under　the　Tsar’s　portrait；　but　the　greater　number　of　the　noblemen　were　walking　about　the　hall。
The　noblemen；　whom　Pierre　saw　every　day　either　at　the　club　or　at　their　houses；　were　all　in　uniforms；　some　in　those　of　Catherine’s　court；　some　in　those　of　the　Emperor　Pavel；　and　some　in　the　new　uniforms　of　Alexander’s　reign；　others　in　the　common　uniforms　of　the　nobility；　and　the　general　character　of　their　dress　gave　a　strange　and　fantastic　look　to　these　old　and　young；　most　diverse　and　familiar　faces。　Particularly　striking　were　the　older　men；　dim…eyed；　toothless；　bald；　and　thin；　with　faces　wrinkled　or　lost　in　yellow　fat。　They　sat　still　for　the　most　part　and　were　silent；　or　if　they　walked　and　talked；　attached　themselves　to　some　one　younger。　Just　like　the　faces　Petya　had　seen　in　the　crowd；　all　these　faces；　in　their　universal　expectation　of　something　solemn；　presented　a　striking　contrast　with　their　everyday；　yesterday’s　aspect；　when　talking　over　their　game　of　boston；　Petrushka　the　cook；　the　health　of　Zinaida　Dmitryevna；　etc。；　etc。
Pierre；　who　had　been　since　early　morning　in　an　uncomfortable　uniform；　that　had　become　too　tight　for　him；　was　in　the　room。　He　was　in　a　state　of　excitement；　this　extraordinary　assembly；　not　only　of　the　nobility；　but　of　the　merchant　class　too—the　estates；　états　généraux—called　up　in　him　a　whole　series　of　ideas　of　the　Contrat　Social　and　the　French　Revolution；　ideas　imprinted　deeply　on　his　soul；　though　they　had　long　been　laid　aside。　The　words　he　had　noticed　in　the　manifesto；　that　the　Tsar　was　coming　to　the　capital　for　deliberation　with　his　people；　confirmed　him　in　this　chain　of　thought。　And　supposing　that　something　of　importance　in　that　direction　was　near　at　hand；　that　what　he　had　long　been　looking　for　was　coming；　he　looked　and　listened　attentively；　but　he　saw　nowhere　any　expression　of　the　ideas　that　engrossed　him。
The　Tsar’s　manifesto　was　read；　and　evoked　enthusiasm；　and　then　all　moved　about；　talking。　Apart　from　their　everyday　interests；　Pierre　heard　discussion　as　to　where　the　marshals　were　to　stand　when　the　Tsar　should　come　in；　when　the　ball　was　to　be　given　for　the　Tsar；　whether　they　were　to　be　divided　according　to　districts　or　the　whole　province　together…　and　so　on。　But　as　soon　as　the　war　and　the　whole　object　of　their　meeting　together　was　touched　upon；　the　talk　was　uncertain　and　hesitating。　Every　one　seemed　to　prefer　listening　to　speaking。
A　manly…looking；　handsome；　middle…aged　man；　wearing　the　uniform　of　a　retired　naval　officer；　was　speaking；　and　a　little　crowd　was　gathered　about　him　in　one　of　the　rooms。　Pierre　went　up　to　the　circle　that　had　formed　round　him；　and　began　to　listen。　Count　Ilya　Andreitch；　in　his　uniform　of　Catherine’s　time；　was　walking　about　with　a　pleasant　smile　among　the　crowd；　with　all　of　whom　he　was　acquainted。　He　too　approached　this　group；　and　began　to　listen　with　a　good…humoured　smile；　as　he　always　did　listen；　nodding　his　head　approvingly　in　token　of　his　agreeing　with　the　speaker