战争与和平(上)-第81部分

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；　visibly　sleeker　and　in　better　trim　for　his　easy　life　in　Moscow。
“Ah；　my　boy！　my　head’s　in　a　whirl；”　said　the　old　gentleman；　with　a　somewhat　shamefaced　smile　at　his　son。　“You　might　come　to　my　aid！　We　have　still　the　singers　to　get；　you　see。　The　music　is　all　settled；　but　shouldn’t　we　order　some　gypsy　singers？　You　military　gentlemen　are　fond　of　that　sort　of　thing。”
“Upon　my　word；　papa；　I　do　believe　that　Prince　Bagration　made　less　fuss　over　getting　ready　for　the　battle　of　Sch？ngraben　than　you　are　making　now；”　said　his　son；　smiling。
The　old　count　pretended　to　be　angry。
“Well；　you　talk；　you　try！”　And　the　count　turned　to　the　cook；　who　with　a　shrewd　and　respectful　face　looked　observantly　and　sympathetically　from　father　to　son。
“What　are　the　young　people　coming　to；　eh；　Feoktista？”　said　he；　“they　laugh　at　us　old　fellows！”
“To　be　sure；　your　excellency；　all　they　have　to　do　is　to　eat　a　good　dinner；　but　to　arrange　it　all　and　serve　it　up；　that’s　no　affair　of　theirs！”
“True；　true！”　cried　the　count；　and　gaily　seizing　his　son　by　both　hands；　he　cried：　“Do　you　know　now　I’ve　got　hold　of　you！　Take　a　sledge　and　pair　this　minute　and　drive　off　to　Bezuhov；　and　say　that　Count　Ilya　Andreivitch　has　sent；　say；　to　ask　him　for　strawberries　and　fresh　pineapples。　There’s　no　getting　them　from　any　one　else。　If　he’s　not　at　home　himself；　you　go　in　and　give　the　message　to　the　princesses；　and；　I　say；　from　there　you　drive　off　to　the　Gaiety—Ipatka　the　coachman　knows　the　place—and　look　up　Ilyushka　there；　the　gypsy　who　danced　at　Count　Orlov’s；　do　you　remember；　in　a　white　Cossack　dress；　and　bring　him　here　to　me。”
“And　bring　his　gypsy　girls　here　with　him？”　asked　Nikolay；　laughing。
“Come；　come！　…”
At　this　moment　Anna　Mihalovna　stepped　noiselessly　into　the　room　with　that　air　of　Christian　meekness；　mingled　with　practical　and　anxious　preoccupation；　that　never　left　her　face。　Although　Anna　Mihalovna　came　upon　the　count　in　his　dressing…gown　every　day；　he　was　invariably　disconcerted　at　her　doing　so；　and　apologised　for　his　costume。
“Don’t　mention　it；　my　dear　count；”　she　said；　closing　her　eyes　meekly。　“I　am　just　going　to　see　Bezuhov；”　she　said。　“Young　Bezuhov　has　arrived；　and　now　we　shall　get　all　we　want；　count；　from　his　greenhouses。　I　was　wanting　to　see　him　on　my　own　account；　too。　He　has　forwarded　me　a　letter　from　Boris。　Thank　God；　Boris　is　now　on　the　staff。”
The　count　was　overjoyed　at　Anna　Mihalovna’s　undertaking　one　part　of　his　commissions；　and　gave　orders　for　the　carriage　to　be　brought　round　for　her。
“Tell　Bezuhov　to　come。　I’ll　put　his　name　down。　Brought　his　wife　with　him？”　he　asked。
Anna　Mihalovna　turned　up　her　eyes；　and　an　expression　of　profound　sadness　came　into　her　face。
“Ah；　my　dear；　he’s　very　unhappy；”　she　said。　“If　it’s　true　what　we　have　been　hearing；　it’s　awful。　How　little　did　we　think　of　this　when　we　were　rejoicing　in　happiness！　and　such　a　lofty；　angelic　nature；　that　young　Bezuhov！　Yes；　I　pity　him　from　my　soul；　and　will　do　my　utmost　to　give　him　any　consolation　in　my　power。”
“Why；　what　is　the　matter？”　inquired　both　the　Rostovs；　young　and　old　together。
Anna　Mihalovna　heaved　a　deep　sigh。
“Dolohov；　Marya　Ivanovna’s　son；”　she　said　in　a　mysterious　whisper；　“has；　they　say；　utterly　compromised　her。　He　brought　him　forward；　invited　him　to　his　house　in　Petersburg；　and　now　this！　…　She　has　come　here；　and　that　scapegrace　has　come　after　her；”　said　Anna　Mihalovna。　She　wished　to　express　nothing　but　sympathy　with　Pierre；　but　in　her　involuntary　intonations　and　half　smile；　she　betrayed　her　sympathy　with　the　scapegrace；　as　she　called　Dolohov。　“Pierre　himself；　they　say；　is　utterly　crushed　by　his　trouble。”
“Well；　any　way；　tell　him　to　come　to　the　club—it　will　divert　his　mind。　It　will　be　a　banquet　on　a　grand　scale。”
On　the　next　day；　the　3rd　of　March；　at　about　two　in　the　afternoon；　the　two　hundred　and　fifty　members　of　the　English　Club　and　fifty　of　their　guests　were　awaiting　the　arrival　of　their　honoured　guest；　the　hero　of　the　Austrian　campaign；　Prince　Bagration。
On　receiving　the　news　of　the　defeat　of　Austerlitz；　all　Moscow　had　at　first　been　thrown　into　bewilderment。　At　that　period　the　Russians　were　so　used　to　victories；　that　on　receiving　news　of　a　defeat；　some　people　were　simply　incredulous；　while　others　sought　an　explanation　of　so　strange　an　event　in　exceptional　circumstances　of　some　kind。　At　the　English　Club；　where　every　one　of　note；　every　one　who　had　authentic　information　and　weight　gathered　together；　during　December；　when　the　news　began　to　arrive；　not　a　word　was　said　about　the　war　and　about　the　last　defeat；　it　was　as　though　all　were　in　a　conspiracy　of　silence。　The　men　who　took　the　lead　in　conversation　at　the　club；　such　as　Count　Rostoptchin；　Prince　Yury　Vladimirovitch　Dolgoruky；　Valuev；　Count　Markov；　and　Prince　Vyazemsky；　did　not　put　in　an　appearance　at　the　club；　but　met　together　in　their　intimate　circles　at　each　other’s　houses。
That　section　of　Moscow　society　which　took　its　opinions　from　others　（to　which；　indeed；　Count　Ilya　Andreivitch　Rostov　belonged）　remained　for　a　short　time　without　leaders　and　without　definite　views　upon　the　progress　of　the　war。　People　felt　in　Moscow　that　something　was　wrong；　and　that　it　was　difficult　to　know　what　to　think　of　the　bad　news；　and　so　better　to　be　silent。　But　a　little　later；　like　jurymen　coming　out　of　their　consultation　room；　the　leaders　reappeared　to　give　their　opinion　in　the　club；　and　a　clear　and　definite　formula　was　found。　Causes　had　been　discovered　to　account　for　the　fact—so　incredible；　unheard…of；　and　impossible—that　the　Russians　had　been　beaten；　and　all　became　clear；　and　the　same　version　was　repeated　from　one　end　of　Moscow　to　the　other。　These　causes　were：　the　treachery　of　the　Austrians；　the　defective　commissariat；　the　treachery　of　the　Pole　Przhebyshevsky　and　the　Frenchman　Langeron；　the　incapacity　of　Kutuzov；　and　（this　was　murmured　in　subdued　tones）　the　youth　and　inexperience　of　the　Emperor；　who　had　put　faith　in　men　of　no　character　and　ability。　But　the　army；　the　Russian　army；　said　every　one；　had　been　extraordinary；　and　had　performed　miracles　of　valour。　The　soldiers；　the　officers；　the　generals—all　were　heroes。　But　the　hero　among　heroes　was　Prince　Bagration；　who　had　distinguished　himself　in　his　Sch？ngraben　engagement　and　in　the　retreat　from　Austerlitz；　where　he　alone　had　withdrawn　his　column　in　good　order；　and　had　succeeded　in　repelling　during　the　whole　day　an　enemy　twice　as　numerous。　What　contributed　to　Bagration’s　being　chosen　for　the　popular　hero　at　Moscow　was　the　fact　that　he　was　an　outsider；　that　he　had　no　connections　in　Moscow。　In　his　person　they　could　do　honour　to　the　simple　fighting　Russian　soldier；　unsupported　by　connections　and　intrigues；　and　still　associated　by　memories　of　the　Italian　campaign　with　the　name　of　Suvorov。　And　besides；　bestowing　upon　him　such　honours　was　the　best　possible　way　of　showing　their　dislike　and　disapproval　of　Kutuzov。
“If　there　had　been　no　Bagration；　somebody　would　have　to　invent　him；”　said　the　wit；　Shinshin；　parodying　the　words　of　Voltaire。
Of　Kutuzov　people　did　not　speak　at　all；　or　whispered　abuse　of　him；　calling　him　the　court　weathercock　and　the　old　satyr。
All　Moscow　was　repeating　the　words　of　Prince　Dolgorukov：　“Chop　down　trees　enough　and　you’re　bound　to　cut　your　finger；”　which　in　our　defeat　suggested　a　consolatory　reminder　of　former　victories；　and　the　saying　of　Rostoptchin；　that　French　soldiers　have　to　be　excited　to　battle　by　high…sounding　phrases；　that　Germans　must　have　it　logically　proved　to　them　that　it　is　more　dangerous　to　run　away　than　to　go　forward；　but　that　all　Russian　soldiers　need　is　to　be　held　back　and　urged　not　to　be　too　reckless！　New　anecdotes　were　continually　to　be　heard　on　every　side　of　individual　feats　of　gallantry　performed　by　our　officers　and　men　at　Austerlitz。　Here　a　man　had　saved　a　flag；　another　had　killed　five　Frenchmen；　another　had　kept　five　cannons　loaded　single…handed。　The　story　was　told　of　Berg；　by　those　who　did　not　know　him；　that　wounded　in　his　right　hand；　he　had　taken　his　sword　in　his　left　and　charged　on　the　enemy。　Nothing　was　said　about　Bolkonsky；　and　only　those　who　had　known　him　intimately　regretted　that　he　had　died　so　young；　leaving　a　wife　with　child；　and　his　queer　old　father。


Chapter　3
ON　THE　3RD　OF　MARCH　all　the　rooms　of　the　English　Club　were　full　of　the　hum　of　voices；　and　the　members　and　guests　of　the　club；　in　uniforms　and　frock…coats；　some　even　in　powder　and　Russian　kaftans；　were　standing　meeting；　parting；　and　running　to　and　fro　like　bees　swarming　in　spring。　Powdered　footmen　in　livery；　wearing　slippers　and　stockings；　stood　at　every　door；　anxiously　trying　to　follow　every　movement　of　the　guests　and　club　members；　so　as　to　proffer　their　services。　The　majority　of　those　present　were　elderly　and　respected　persons；　with　broad；　self…confident　faces；　fat　fingers；　and　resolute　gestures　and　voices。　Guests　and　members　of　this　class　sat　in　certain　habitual　places；　and　met　together　in　certain　habitual　circles。　A　small　proportion　of　those　present　were　casual　guests—chiefly　young　men；　among　them　Denisov；　Rostov；　and　Dolohov；　who　was　now　an　officer　in　the　Semyonovsky　regiment　again。　The　faces　of　the　younger　men；　especially　the　officers；　wore　that　expression　of　condescending　deference　to　their　elders　which　seems　to　say　to　the　older　generation；　“Respect　and　deference　we　are　prepared　to　give　you；　but　remember　all　the　same　the　future　is　for　us。”　Nesvitsky；　an　old　member　of　the　club；　was　there　too。　Pierre；　who　at　his　wife’s　command　had　let　his　hair　grow　and　left　off　spectacles；　was　walking　about　the　rooms　dressed　in　the　height　of　the　fashion；　but　looking　melancholy　and　depressed。　Here；　as　everywhere；　he　was　surrounded　by　the　atmosphere　of　people　paying　homage　to　his　wealth；　and　he　behaved　to　them　with　the　careless；　contemptuous　air　of　sovereignty　that　had　become　habitual　with　him。
In　years；　he　belonged　to　the　younger　generation；　but　by　his　wealth　and　connections　he　was　a　member　of　the　older　circles；　and　so　he　passed　from　one　set　to　the　other。　The　most　distinguished　of　the　elder　members　formed　the　centres　of　circles；　which　even　strangers　respectfully　approached　to　listen　to　the　words　of　well…known　men。　The　larger　groups　were　formed　round　Count　Rostoptchin；　Valuev；　and　Naryshkin。　Rostoptchin　was　describing　how　the　Rus