战争与和平(上)-第39部分

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；　and　he　had　himself　received　a　slight　wound　on　his　arm　from　a　bullet。　As　a　mark　of　special　favour　on　the　part　of　the　commander…in…chief；　he　was　sent　with　the　news　of　this　victory　to　the　Austrian　court；　now　at　Brünn；　as　Vienna　was　threatened　by　the　French。　On　the　night　of　the　battle；　excited；　but　not　weary　（though　Prince　Andrey　did　not　look　robustly　built；　he　could　bear　fatigue　better　than　very　strong　men）；　he　had　ridden　with　a　despatch　from　Dohturov　to　Krems　to　Kutuzov。　The　same　night　he　had　been　sent　on　with　a　special　despatch　to　Brünn。　This　commission；　apart　from　its　reward；　meant　an　important　step　in　promotion。
The　night　was　dark　and　starlit；　the　road　looked　black　in　the　white　snow　that　had　fallen　on　the　day　of　the　battle。　With　his　mind　filled　with　impressions　of　the　battle；　joyful　anticipations　of　the　effect　that　would　be　produced　by　the　news　of　the　victory；　and　recollections　of　the　farewells　of　the　commander…in…chief　and　his　comrades；　Prince　Andrey　trotted　along　in　a　light　posting　cart；　with　the　sensations　of　a　man　who；　after　long　waiting；　has　at　last　attained　the　first　instalment　of　some　coveted　happiness。　As　soon　as　he　closed　his　eyes；　the　firing　of　guns　and　cannons　was　echoing　in　his　ears；　and　that　sound　blended　with　the　rattle　of　the　wheels　and　the　sensation　of　victory。　At　one　moment　he　would　begin　to　dream　that　the　Russians　were　flying；　that　he　was　himself　slain；　but　he　waked　up　in　haste；　and　with　fresh　happiness　realised　anew　that　that　was　all　unreal；　and　that　it　was　the　French；　on　the　contrary；　who　were　put　to　flight。　He　recalled　again　all　the　details　of　the　victory；　his　own　calm　manliness　during　the　battle；　and；　reassured；　he　began　to　doze。…　The　dark；　starlit　night　was　followed　by　a　bright　and　sunny　morning。　The　snow　was　thawing　in　the　sun；　the　horses　galloped　quickly；　and　new　and　different…looking　forests；　fields；　and　trees　flew　by　on　both　sides　of　the　road　alike。
At　one　of　the　stations　he　overtook　a　convoy　of　Russian　wounded。　The　Russian　officer　in　charge　of　the　transport　lay　lolling　back　in　the　foremost　cart；　and　was　shouting　coarse　abuse　at　a　soldier。　In　each　of　the　long　German　Vorspanns　six　or　more　pale；　bandaged；　and　dirty　wounded　men　were　being　jolted　over　the　stony　roads。　Some　of　them　were　talking　（he　caught　the　sound　of　Russian　words）；　others　were　eating　bread；　the　most　severely　wounded　gazed　dumbly　at　the　posting　cart　trotting　by；　with　the　languid　interest　of　sick　children。
Prince　Andrey　told　the　driver　to　stop；　and　asked　a　soldier　in　what　battle　they　had　been　wounded。
“The　day　before　yesterday　on　the　Danube；”　answered　the　soldier。　Prince　Andrey　took　out　his　purse　and　gave　the　soldier　three　gold　pieces。
“For　all；”　he　added；　addressing　the　officer　as　he　came　up。　“Get　well；　lads；”　he　said　to　the　soldiers；　“there’s　a　lot　to　do　yet。”
“What　news？”　asked　the　officer；　evidently　anxious　to　get　into　conversation。
“Good　news！　Forward！”　he　called　to　the　driver；　and　galloped　on。
It　was　quite　dark　when　Prince　Andrey　rode　into　Br？nn；　and　saw　himself　surrounded　by　high　houses；　lighted　shops；　the　lighted　windows　of　houses；　and　street　lamps；　handsome　carriages　noisily　rolling　over　the　pavement；　and　all　that　atmosphere　of　a　great　town　full　of　life；　which　is　so　attractive　to　a　soldier　after　camp。　In　spite　of　the　rapid　drive　and　sleepless　night；　Prince　Andrey　felt　even　more　alert；　as　he　drove　up　to　the　palace；　than　he　had　on　the　previous　evening。　Only　his　eyes　glittered　with　a　feverish　brilliance；　and　his　ideas　followed　one　another　with　extreme　rapidity　and　clearness。　He　vividly　pictured　again　all　the　details　of　the　battle；　not　in　confusion；　but　definitely；　in　condensed　shape；　as　he　meant　to　present　them　to　the　Emperor　Francis。　He　vividly　imagined　the　casual　questions　that　might　be　put　to　him　and　the　answers　he　would　make　to　them。　He　imagined　that　he　would　be　at　once　presented　to　the　Emperor。　But　at　the　chief　entrance　of　the　palace　an　official　ran　out　to　meet　him；　and　learning　that　he　was　a　special　messenger；　led　him　to　another　entrance。
“Turning　to　the　right　out　of　the　corridor；　Euer　Hochgeboren；　you　will　find　the　adjutant　on　duty；”　the　official　said　to　him。　“He　will　conduct　you　to　the　minister　of　war。”
The　adjutant　on　duty；　meeting　Prince　Andrey；　asked　him　to　wait；　and　went　into　the　war　minister。　Five　minutes　later　the　adjutant　returned；　and　with　marked　courtesy；　bowing　and　ushering　Prince　Andrey　before　him；　he　led　him　across　the　corridor　to　the　private　room　of　the　war　minister。　The　adjutant；　by　his　elaborately　formal　courtesy；　seemed　to　wish　to　guard　himself　from　any　attempt　at　familiarity　on　the　part　of　the　Russian　adjutant。　The　joyous　feeling　of　Prince　Andrey　was　considerably　damped　as　he　approached　the　door　of　the　minister’s　room。　He　felt　slighted；　and　the　feeling　of　being　slighted　passed　instantaneously　without　his　being　aware　of　it　himself—into　a　feeling　of　disdain；　which　was　quite　uncalled　for。　His　subtle　brain　at　the　same　instant　supplied　him　with　the　point　of　view　from　which　he　had　the　right　to　feel　disdain　both　of　the　adjutant　and　the　minister　of　war。　“No　doubt　it　seems　to　them　a　very　simple　matter　to　win　victories；　never　having　smelt　powder！”　he　thought。　His　eyelids　drooped　disdainfully；　he　walked　with　peculiar　deliberateness　into　the　war　minister’s　room。　This　feeling　was　intensified　when　he　saw　the　minister　of　war　sitting　at　a　big　table；　and　for　the　first　two　minutes　taking　no　notice　of　his　entrance。　The　minister　of　war　had　his　bald　head；　with　grey　curls　on　the　temple；　held　low　between　two　wax　candles；　he　was　reading　some　papers；　and　marking　them　with　a　pencil。　He　went　on　reading　to　the　end；　without　raising　his　eyes　at　the　opening　of　the　door　and　the　sound　of　footsteps。
“Take　this　and　give　it　him；”　said　the　minister　of　war　to　his　adjutant；　handing　him　the　papers；　and　taking　no　notice　of　the　Russian　attaché。
Prince　Andrey　felt　that　either　the　minister　of　war　took　less　interest　in　the　doings　of　Kutuzov’s　army　than　in　any　other　subject　demanding　his　attention；　or　that　he　wanted　to　make　the　Russian　attaché　feel　this。　“But　that’s　a　matter　of　complete　indifference　to　me；”　thought　he。　The　minister　of　war　put　the　other　remaining　papers　together；　making　their　edges　level；　and　lifted　his　head。　He　had　an　intellectual　and　characteristic　head。　But　the　instant　he　turned　to　Prince　Andrey；　the　shrewd　and　determined　expression　of　the　war　minister’s　face　changed　in　a　manner　evidently　conscious　and　habitual。　On　his　face　was　left　the　stupid　smile—hypocritical；　and　not　disguising　its　hypocrisy—of　a　man　who　receives　many　petitioners；　one　after　another。
“From　General—Field　Marshal　Kutuzov？”　he　queried。　“Good　news；　I　hope？　Has　there　been　an　engagement　with　Mortier？　A　victory？　It　was　high　time！”
He　took　the　despatch；　which　was　addressed　to　him；　and　began　to　read　it　with　a　mournful　expression。
“Ah！　My　God！　my　God！　Schmidt！”　he　said　in　German。　“What　a　calamity！　what　a　calamity！”　Skimming　through　the　despatch；　he　laid　it　on　the　table　and　glanced　at　Prince　Andrey；　visibly　meditating　on　something。
“Ah；　what　a　calamity！　So　the　action；　you　say；　was　a　decisive　one？”　（“Mortier　was　not　taken；　however；”　he　reflected。）　“Very　glad　you　have　brought　good　news；　though　the　death　of　Schmidt　is　a　costly　price　for　the　victory。　His　majesty　will　certainly　wish　to　see　you；　but　not　to…day。　I　thank　you；　you　must　need　repose。　To…morrow；　be　at　the　levée　after　the　review。　But　I　will　let　you　know。”
The　stupid　smile；　which　had　disappeared　while　he　was　talking；　reappeared　on　the　war　minister’s　face。
“Au　revoir；　I　thank　you　indeed。　His　majesty　the　Emperor　will　most　likely　wish　to　see　you；”　he　repeated；　and　he　bowed　his　head。
As　Prince　Andrey　left　the　palace；　he　felt　that　all　the　interest　and　happiness　that　had　been　given　him　by　this　victory　had　been　left　behind　by　him　now　in　the　indifferent　hands　of　the　minister　and　the　formal　adjutant。　The　whole　tenor　of　his　thoughts　had　instantaneously　changed。　The　battle　figured　in　his　mind　as　a　remote；　far…away　memory。


Chapter　10
PRINCE　ANDREY　stayed　at　Br？nn　with　a　Russian　of　his　acquaintance　in　the　diplomatic　service；　Bilibin。
“Ah；　my　dear　prince；　there’s　no　one　I　could　have　been　more　pleased　to　see；”　said　Bilibin；　coming　to　meet　Prince　Andrey。　“Franz；　take　the　prince’s　things　to　my　bedroom；”　he　said　to　the　servant；　who　was　ushering　Bolkonsky　in。　“What；　a　messenger　of　victory？　That’s　capital。　I’m　kept　indoors　ill；　as　you　see。”
After　washing　and　dressing；　Prince　Andrey　came　into　the　diplomat’s　luxurious　study　and　sat　down　to　the　dinner　prepared　for　him。　Bilibin　was　sitting　quietly　at　the　fireplace。
Not　his　journey　only；　but　all　the　time　he　had　spent　with　the　army　on　the　march；　deprived　of　all　the　conveniences　of　cleanliness　and　the　elegancies　of　life；　made　Prince　Andrey　feel　now　an　agreeable　sense　of　repose　among　the　luxurious　surroundings　to　which　he　had　been　accustomed　from　childhood。　Moreover；　after　his　Austrian　reception；　he　was　glad　to　speak—if　not　in　Russian；　for　they　talked　French—at　least　to　a　Russian；　who　would；　he　imagined；　share　the　general　Russian　dislike　（which　he　felt　particularly　keenly　just　then）　for　the　Austrians。
Bilibin　was　a　man　of　five…and…thirty；　a　bachelor；　of　the　same　circle　as　Prince　Andrey。　They　had　been　acquainted　in　Petersburg；　but　had　become　more　intimate　during　Prince　Andrey’s　last　stay　at　Vienna　with　Kutuzov。　Just　as　Prince　Andrey　was　a　young　man；　who　promised　to　rise　high　in　a　military　career；　Bilibin　promised　to　do　even　better　in　diplomacy。　He　was　still　a　young　man；　but　not　a　young　diplomat；　as　he　had　been　in　the　service　since　he　was　sixteen。　He　had　been　in　Paris　and　in　Copenhagen；　and　now　in　Vienna　he　filled　a　post　of　considerable　importance。　Both　the　foreign　minister　and　our　ambassador　at　Vienna　knew　him　and　valued　him。　He　was　not　one　of　that　great　multitude　of　diplomats　whose　qualification　is　limited　to　the　possession　of　negative　qualities；　who　need　simply　avoid　doing　certain　things　and　speak　French　in　order　to　be　very　good　diplomats。　He　was　one　of　those　diplomats　who　like　work　and　understand　it；　and　in　spite　of　his　natural　indolence；　he　often　spent　nights　at　his　writing…table。　He　worked　equally　well　whatever　the　object　of　his　work　might　be。　He　was　interested　not　in　the　question　“Why？”　but　in　the　question　“H