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战争与和平(上)-第238部分

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third officer galloped up to them。
“The general has sent orders that they positively must all be driven out。 Why; this is outrageous! Half the men have run off。”
“Why; are you off too? … Where are you fellows off to?” … he shouted to three infantry soldiers; who ran by him into the bazaar without guns; holding up the skirts of their overcoats。 “Stop; rascals!”
“Yes; you see; how are you going to get hold of them?” answered another officer。 “There’s no getting them together; we must push on so that the last may not be gone; that’s the only thing to do!”
“How’s one to push on? There they have been standing; with a block on the bridge; and they are not moving。 Shouldn’t a guard be set to prevent the rest running off?”
“Why; come along! Drive them out;” shouted the senior officer。
The officer in the scarf dismounted; called up a drummer; and went with him into the arcade。 Several soldiers in a group together made a rush away。 A shopkeeper; with red bruises on his cheeks about his nose; with an expression on his sleek face of quiet persistence in the pursuit of gain; came hurriedly and briskly up to the officer gesticulating。
“Your honour;” said he; “graciously protect us。 We are not close…fisted—any trifle now … we shall be delighted! Pray; your honour; walk in; I’ll bring out cloth in a moment—a couple of pieces even for a gentleman —we shall be delighted! For we feel how it is; but this is simple robbery! Pray; your honour! a guard or something should be set; to let us at least shut up …”
Several shopkeepers crowded round the officer。
“Eh! it’s no use clacking;” said one of them; a thin man; with a stern face; “when one’s head’s off; one doesn’t weep over one’s hair。 Let all take what they please!” And with a vigorous sweep of his arm he turned away from the officer。
“It’s all very well for you to talk; Ivan Sidoritch;” the first shopkeeper began angrily。 “If you please; your honour。”
“What’s the use of talking!” shouted the thin man; “in my three shops here I have one hundred thousand worth of goods。 How’s one to guard them when the army is gone? Ah; fellows; God’s will is not in men’s hands!”
“If you please; your honour;” said the first shopkeeper; bowing。
The officer stood in uncertainty; and his face betrayed indecision。 “Why; what business is it of mine!” he cried suddenly; and he strode on rapidly along the arcade。 In one open shop he heard blows and high words; and just as the officer was going into it; a man in a grey coat; with a shaven head; was thrust violently out of the door。
This man doubled himself up and bounded past the shopkeepers and the officer。 The officer pounced on the soldiers who were in the shop。 But meanwhile fearful screams; coming from an immense crowd; were heard near the Moskvoryetsky bridge; and the officer ran out into the square。
“What is it? What is it?” he asked; but his comrade had already galloped off in the direction of the screams。 The officer mounted his horse and followed him。 As he drew near the bridge; he saw two cannons that had been taken off their carriages; the infantry marching over the bridge; a few broken…down carts; and some soldiers with frightened; and some with laughing faces。 Near the cannons stood a waggon with a pair of horses harnessed to it。 Behind the wheels huddled four greyhounds in collars。 A mountain of goods was piled up in the waggon; and on the very top; beside a child’s chair turned legs uppermost; sat a woman; who was uttering shrill and despairing shrieks。 The officer was told by his comrades that the screams of the crowd and the woman’s shrieks were due to the fact that General Yermolov had come riding down on the crowd; and learning that the soldiers were straying away in the shops; and crowds of the townspeople were blocking the bridge; had commanded them to take the cannons out of their carriages; and to make as though they would fire them at the bridge。 The crowd had made a rush; upsetting waggons; trampling one another; and screaming desperately; the bridge had been cleared; and the troops had moved on。


Chapter 22
THE TOWN ITSELF meanwhile was deserted。 There was scarcely a creature in the streets。 The gates and the shops were all closed; here and there near pot…houses could be heard solitary shouts or drunken singing。 No one was driving in the streets; and footsteps were rarely heard。 Povarsky Street was perfectly still and deserted。 In the immense courtyard of the Rostovs’ house a few wisps of straw were lying about; litter out of the waggons that had gone away; and not a man was to be seen。 In the Rostovs’ house—abandoned with all its wealth—there were two persons in the great drawing…room。 These were the porter; Ignat; and the little page; Mishka; the grandson of Vassilitch; who had remained in Moscow with his grandfather。 Mishka had opened the clavichord; and was strumming with one finger。 The porter; with his arms akimbo and a gleeful smile on his face; was standing before the great looking…glass。
“That’s fine; eh; Uncle Ignat?” said the boy; beginning to bang with both hands at once on the keys。
“Ay; ay!” answered Ignat; admiring the broadening grin on his visage in the glass。
“Shameless fellows! Shameless; upon my word!” they heard behind them the voice of Mavra Kuzminishna; who had softly entered。 “The fat…faced fellow grinning at himself! So this is what you are at! It’s not all cleared away down there; and Vassilitch fairly knocked up。 You wait a bit!”
Ignat; setting his belt straight; left off smiling; and with eyes submissively downcast; walked out of the room。
“Auntie; I was only just touching …” said the boy。
“I’ll teach you only just to touch。 Little rascal!” cried Mavra Kuzminishna; waving her hand at him。 “Go and set the samovar for your granddad。”
Brushing the dust off; she closed the clavichord; and sighing heavily went out of the drawing…room and closed the door。 Going out into the yard Mavra Kuzminishna mused where she would go next: whether to drink tea in the lodge with Vassilitch; or to the storeroom to put away what still remained to be stored away。
There was a sound of rapid footsteps in the still street。 The steps paused at the gate; the latch rattled as some hand tried to open it。
Mavra Kuzminishna went up to the little gate。
“Whom do you want?”
“The count; Count Ilya Andreitch Rostov。”
“But who are you?”
“I am an officer。 I want to see him;” said a genial voice; the voice of a Russian gentleman。
Mavra Kuzminishna opened the gate。 And there walked into the courtyard a round…faced officer; a lad of eighteen; whose type of face strikingly resembled the Rostovs’。
“They have gone away; sir。 Yesterday; in the evening; their honours set off;” said Mavra Kuzminishna cordially。 The young officer standing in the gateway; as though hesitating whether to go in or not; gave a click with his tongue expressive of disappointment。
“Ah; how annoying!” he said。 “Yesterday I ought to … Ah; what a pity …”
Meanwhile Mavra Kuzminishna was intently and sympathetically scrutinising the familiar features of the Rostov family in the young man’s face; and the tattered cloak and trodden…down boots he was wearing。 “What was it you wanted to see the count for?” she asked。
“Well … what am I to do now!” the officer cried; with vexation in his voice; and he took hold of the gate as though intending to go away。 He stopped short again in uncertainty。
“You see;” he said all at once; “I am a kinsman of the count’s; and he has always been very kind to me。 So do you see” (he looked with a merry and good…humoured smile at his cloak and boots) “I am in rags; and haven’t a farthing; so I had meant to ask the count …”
Mavra Kuzminishna did not let him finish。
“Would you wait just a minute; sir? Only one minute;” she said。 And as soon as the officer let go of the gate; Mavra Kuzminishna turned; and with her rapid; elderly step hurried into the back court to her lodge。
While she was running to her room; the officer; with downcast head and a faint smile; was pacing up and down the yard; gazing at his tattered boots。
“What a pity I have missed uncle! What a nice old body! Where has she run off to? And how am I to find out the nearest way for me to overtake the regiment; which must be at Rogozhsky by now?” the young officer was musing meanwhile。 Mavra Kuzminishna came round the corner with a frightened and; at the same time; resolute face; carrying in her hands a knotted check handkerchief。 A few steps from him; she untied the handkerchief; took out of it a white twenty…five rouble note; and gave it hurriedly to the officer。
“Had his excellency been at home; to be sure; he would have done a kinsman’s part; but as it is … see; may be …” Mavra Kuzminishna was overcome with shyness and confusion。 But the officer; with no haste nor reluctance; took the note; and thanked Mavra Kuzminishna。 “If only the count had been at home;” murmured Mavra Kuzminishna; as it were apologetically。 “Christ be with you; sir。 God keep you safe;” she said; bowing and showing him out。 The officer; smiling and shaking his head; as though laughing at himself; ran almost at a trot along the empty streets to overtake his regiment at Yauzsky bridge。
But for some time Mavra Kuzminishna remained standing with wet eyes before the closed gate; pensively shaking her head; and feeling a sudden rush of motherly tenderness and pity for the unknown boy…officer。


Chapter 23
IN AN UNFINISHED HOUSE in Varvarka; the lower part of which was a pot…house; there were sounds of drunken brawling and singing。 Some ten factory hands were sitting on benches at tables in a little; dirty room。 Tipsy; sweating; blear…eyed; with wide…gaping mouths; bloated with drink; they were singing some sort of a song。 They were singing discordantly; with toil; with labour; not because they wanted to sing; but simply to betoken that they were drunk; and were enjoying themselves。 One of them; a tall; flaxen…headed fellow; in a clean; blue long coat was standing over the rest。 His face; with its straight; fine nose; would have been handsome; but for the thick; compressed; continually twitching lips and the lustreless; staring; and frowning eyes。 He was standing over the singers; and; 
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