战争与和平(上)-第251部分

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The　woman　almost　flung　herself　at　Pierre’s　feet　as　soon　as　she　saw　him。
“Merciful　heavens；　good　Christian　folk；　save　me；　help　me；　kind　sir！　…　somebody；　help　me；”　she　articulated　through　her　sobs。　“My　little　girl！　…　My　daughter！　…　My　youngest　girl　left　behind！　…　She’s　burnt！　Oo　…　er！　What　a　fate　I　have　nursed　thee　for　…　Ooo！”
“Hush；　Marya　Nikolaevna；”　the　husband　said　in　a　low　voice　to　his　wife；　evidently　only　to　justify　himself　before　an　outsider。
“Sister　must　have　taken　her；　nothing　else　can　have　happened　to　her！”　he　added。
“Monster；　miscreant！”　the　woman　screeched　furiously；　her　tears　suddenly　ceasing。　“There　is　no　heart　in　you；　you　have　no　feeling　for　your　own　child。　Any　other　man　would　have　rescued　her　from　the　fire。　But　he　is　a　monster；　not　a　man；　not　a　father。　You　are　a　noble　man；”　the　woman　turned　to　Pierre　sobbing　and　talking　rapidly。　“The　row　was　on　fire—they　rushed　in　to　tell　us。　The　girl　screamed：　Fire！　We　rushed　to　get　our　things　out。　Just　as　we　were；　we　escaped。　…　This　is　all　we　could　snatch　up　…　the　blessed　images；　we　look　at　the　children；　and　the　bed　that　was　my　dowry；　and　all　the　rest　is　lost。　Katitchka’s　missing。　Oooo！　O　Lord！　…”　and　again　she　broke　into　sobs。　“My　darling　babe！　burnt！　burnt！”
“But　where；　where　was　she　left？”　said　Pierre。
From　the　expression　of　his　interested　face；　the　woman　saw　that　this　man　might　help　her。
“Good；　kind　sir！”　she　screamed；　clutching　at　his　legs。　“Benefactor；　set　my　heart　at　rest　anyway　…　Aniska；　go；　you　slut；　show　the　way；”　she　bawled　to　the　servant…girl；　opening　her　mouth　wide　in　her　anger；　and　displaying　her　long　teeth　more　than　ever。
“Show　the　way；　show　me；　I　…　I　…　I’ll　do　something；”　Pierre　gasped　hurriedly。
The　dirty　servant…girl　came　out　from　behind　the　box；　put　up　her　hair；　and　sighing；　walked　on　in　front　along　the　path　with　her　coarse；　bare　feet。
Pierre　felt　as　though　he　had　suddenly　come　back　to　life　after　a　heavy　swoon。　He　drew　his　head　up；　his　eyes　began　to　shine　with　the　light　of　life；　and　with　rapid　steps　he　followed　the　girl；　overtook　her；　and　went　into　Povarsky　Street。　The　whole　street　was　full　of　clouds　of　black　smoke。　Tongues　of　flame　shot　up　here　and　there　out　of　these　clouds。　A　great　crowd　had　gathered　in　front　of　the　fire。　In　the　middle　of　the　street　stood　a　French　general；　saying　something　to　those　about　him。　Pierre；　accompanied　by　the　servant…girl；　was　approaching　the　place　where　the　French　general　stood；　but　the　French　soldiers　stopped　him。
“Can’t　pass；”　a　voice　shouted　to　him。
“This　way；　master；”　bawled　the　girl。　“We’ll　cut　across　Nikoliny　by　the　lane。”
Pierre　turned　back；　breaking　into　a　run　now　and　then　to　keep　pace　with　her。　The　girl　ran　across　the　street；　turned　into　a　lane　on　the　left；　and　passing　three　houses；　turned　in　at　a　gate　on　the　right。
“It’s　just　here；”　she　said；　and　running　across　a　yard；　she　opened　a　little　gate　in　a　paling…fence；　and　stopping　short；　pointed　out　to　Pierre　a　small　wooden　lodge；　which　was　blazing　away　brightly。　One　side　of　it　had　fallen　in；　the　other　was　on　fire；　and　flames　peeped　out　at　the　window…holes　and　under　the　roof。
As　Pierre　went　in　at　the　little　gate；　he　felt　the　rush　of　heat；　and　involuntarily　stopped　short。
“Which；　which　is　your　house？”　he　asked。
“Oooh！”　wailed　the　servant…girl；　pointing　to　the　lodge。　“That’s　it；　that　same　was　our　lodging。　Sure；　you’re　burnt　to　death；　our　treasure；　Katitchka；　my　precious　little　missy；　ooh！”　wailed　Aniska；　at　the　sight　of　the　fire　feeling　the　necessity　of　giving　expression　to　her　feelings　too。
Pierre　darted　up　to　the　lodge；　but　the　heat　was　so　great　that　he　could　not　help　describing　a　curve　round　it；　and　found　himself　close　to　a　big　house；　which　was　as　yet　only　on　fire　on　one　side；　at　the　roof。　A　group　of　French　soldiers　were　swarming　round　it。　Pierre　could　not　at　first　make　out　what　these　Frenchmen　were　about；　dragging　something　out　of　the　house。　But　seeing　a　French　soldier　in　front　of　him　beating　a　peasant　with　a　blunt　cutlass；　and　taking　from　him　a　fur…lined　coat；　Pierre　became　vaguely　aware　that　pillaging　was　going　on　here—but　he　had　no　time　to　dwell　on　the　idea。
The　sound　of　the　rumble　and　crash　of　falling　walls　and　ceilings；　the　roar　and　hiss　of　the　flames；　and　the　excited　shouts　of　the　crowd；　the　sight　of　the　hovering　clouds　of　smoke—here　folding　over　into　black　masses；　there　drawing　out　and　lighted　up　by　gleaming　sparks；　and　the　flames—here　like　a　thick　red　sheaf；　and　there　creeping　like　golden　fish…scales　over　the　walls；　the　sense　of　the　heat　and　smoke　and　rapidity　of　movement；　all　produced　on　Pierre　the　usual　stimulating　effect　of　a　conflagration。　That　effect　was　particularly　strong　on　Pierre；　because　all　at　once；　at　the　sight　of　the　fire；　he　felt　himself　set　free　from　the　ideas　weighing　upon　him。　He　felt　young；　gay；　ready；　and　resolute。　He　ran　round　the　lodge　on　the　side　of　the　house；　and　was　about　to　run　into　that　part　which　was　still　standing；　when　he　heard　several　voices　shouting　immediately　above　his　head；　followed　by　the　crash　and　bang　of　something　heavy　falling　close　by。
Pierre　looked　round；　and　saw　at　the　windows　of　the　house　some　French　soldiers；　who　had　just　dropped　out　a　drawer　of　a　chest；　filled　with　some　metallic　objects。　Some　more　French　soldiers　standing　below　went　up　to　the　drawer。
“Well；　what　does　that　fellow　want？”　one　of　the　French　soldiers　shouted；　referring　to　Pierre。
“A　child　in　the　house。　Haven’t　you　seen　a　child？”　said　Pierre。
“What’s　the　fellow　singing？　Get　along；　do！”　shouted　voices；　and　one　of　the　soldiers；　evidently　afraid　Pierre　might　take　it　into　his　head　to　snatch　the　silver　and　bronzes　from　them；　pounced　on　him　in　a　menacing　fashion。
“A　child？”　shouted　a　Frenchman　from　above。　“I　did　hear　something　crying　in　the　garden。　Perhaps　it’s　the　fellow’s　brat。　Must　be　humane　you　know。”
“Where　is　it？”　asked　Pierre。
“This　way！”　the　French　soldier　shouted　to　him　from　the　window　pointing　to　the　garden　behind　the　house。　“Wait；　I’ll　come　down。”
And　in　a　minute　the　Frenchman；　a　black…eyed　fellow；　with　a　patch　on　his　cheek；　in　his　shirt…sleeves；　did　in　fact　jump　out　of　a　window　on　the　ground　floor；　and　slapping　Pierre　on　the　shoulder；　he　ran　with　him　to　the　garden。　“Make　haste；　you　fellows；”　he　shouted　to　his　comrades；　“it’s　beginning　to　get　hot。”　Running　behind　the　house　to　a　sanded　path；　the　Frenchman　pulled　Pierre　by　the　arm；　and　pointed　out　to　him　a　circular　space。　Under　a　garden　seat　lay　a　girl　of　three　years　old；　in　a　pink　frock。
“Here’s　your　brat。　Ah；　a　little　girl。　So　much　the　better；”　said　the　Frenchman。　“Good…bye。　Must　be　humane；　we　are　all　mortal；　you　know”；　and　the　Frenchman；　with　the　patch　on　his　cheek；　ran　back　to　his　comrades。
Pierre；　breathless　with　joy；　ran　up　to　the　child；　and　would　have　taken　her　in　his　arms。　But　seeing　a　stranger；　the　little　girl—a　scrofulous…looking；　unattractive　child　very　like　her　mother—screamed　and　ran　away。　Pierre　caught　her；　however；　and　lifted　her　up　in　his　arms；　she　squealed　in　desperate　fury；　and　tried　to　tear　herself　out　of　Pierre’s　arms　with　her　little　hands；　and　to　bite　him　with　her　dirty；　dribbling　mouth。　Pierre　had　a　sense　of　horror　and　disgust；　such　as　he　had　felt　at　contact　with　some　little　beast。　But　he　made　an　effort　to　overcome　it；　and　not　to　drop　the　child；　and　ran　with　it　back　to　the　big　house。　By　now；　however；　it　was　impossible　to　get　back　by　the　same　way；　the　servant…girl；　Aniska；　was　nowhere　to　be　seen；　and　with　a　feeling　of　pity　and　loathing；　Pierre　held　close　to　him；　as　tenderly　as　he　could；　the　piteously　howling；　and　sopping　wet　baby；　and　ran　across　the　garden　to　seek　some　other　way　out。


Chapter　34
WHEN　PIERRE；　after　running　across　courtyards　and　by…lanes；　got　back　with　his　burden　to　Prince　Gruzinsky’s　garden；　at　the　corner　of　Povarsky；　he　did　not　for　the　first　moment　recognise　the　place　from　which　he　had　set　out　to　look　for　the　baby：　it　was　so　packed　with　people　and　goods；　dragged　out　of　the　houses。　Besides　the　Russian　families　with　their　belongings　saved　from　the　fire；　there　were　a　good　many　French　soldiers　here　too　in　various　uniforms。　Pierre　took　no　notice　of　them。　He　was　in　haste　to　find　the　family；　and　to　restore　the　child　to　its　mother；　so　as　to　be　able　to　go　back　and　save　some　one　else。　It　seemed　to　Pierre　that　he　had　a　great　deal　more　to　do；　and　to　do　quickly。　Warmed　up　by　the　heat　and　running；　Pierre　felt　even　more　strongly　at　that　minute　the　sense　of　youth；　eagerness；　and　resolution；　which　had　come　upon　him　when　he　was　running　to　save　the　baby。
The　child　was　quiet　now；　and　clinging　to　Pierre’s　coat　with　her　little　hands；　she　sat　on　his　arm；　and　looked　about　her　like　a　little　wild　beast。　Pierre　glanced　at　her　now　and　then；　and　smiled　slightly。　He　fancied　he　saw　something　touchingly　innocent　in　the　frightened；　sickly　little　face。
Neither　the　official　nor　his　wife　were　in　the　place　where　he　had　left　them。　With　rapid　steps；　Pierre　walked　about　among　the　crowd；　scanning　the　different　faces　he　came　across。　He　could　not　help　noticing　a　Georgian　or　Armenian　family；　consisting　of　a　very　old　man；　of　a　handsome　Oriental　cast　of　face；　dressed　in　a　new　cloth…faced　sheepskin　and　new　boots；　an　old　woman　of　a　similar　type；　and　a　young　woman。　The　latter—a　very　young　woman—struck　Pierre　as　a　perfect　example　of　Oriental　beauty；　with　her　sharply　marked；　arched；　black　eyebrows；　her　extraordinarily　soft；　bright　colour　and　beautiful；　expressionless；　oval　face。　Among　the　goods　flung　down　in　the　crowd　in　the　grass　space；　in　her　rich　satin　mantle；　and　the　bright　lilac　kerchief　on　her　head；　she　suggested　a　tender；　tropical　plant；　thrown　down　in　the　snow。　She　was　sitting　on　the　baggage　a　little　behind　the　old　woman；　and　her　big；　black；　long…shaped　eyes；　with　their　long　lashes；　were　fixed　immovably　on　the　ground。　Evidently　she　was　aware　of　her　beauty；　and　fearful　because　of　it。　Her　face　struck　Pierre；　and　in　his　haste　he　looked　round　at　her　several　times　as　he　passed　along　by　the　fence。　Reaching　the　fence；　and　still　failing　to　find　the　people　he　was　looking　for；　Pierre　stood　still　and　looked　round。
Pierre’s　figure　was　more　remarkable　than　ever　now　with　the　baby　in　his　arms；　and　several　Russians；　both　men　and　women；　gathered　about　him。
“Have　you　lost　some　one；　good　sir？　Are　you　a　gentlem