CHAPTER II

Chinese

THE DAY after his son's departure, Prince Nikolay Andreitch sent for Princess Marya.

“Well, now are you satisfied?” he said to her. “You have made me quarrel with my son! Are you satisfied? That was all you wanted! Satisfied? … It's a grief to me, a grief. I'm old and weak, and it was your wish. Well, now, rejoice over it. …” And after that, Princess Marya did not see her father again for a week. He was ill and did not leave his study.

Princess Marya noticed to her surprise that during this illness the old prince excluded Mademoiselle Bourienne too from his room. Tihon was the only person who looked after him.

A week later the prince reappeared, and began to lead the same life as before, showing marked energy in the laying out of farm buildings and gardens, and completely breaking off all relations with Mademoiselle Bourienne. His frigid tone and air with Princess Marya seemed to say: “You see, you plotted against me, told lies to Prince Andrey of my relations with that Frenchwoman, and made me quarrel with him, but you see I can do without you, and without the Frenchwoman too.”

One half of the day Princess Marya spent with Nikolushka, giving him his Russian lessons, following his other lessons, and talking to Dessalle. The rest of the day she spent in reading, or with her old nurse and “God's folk,” who came by the back stairs sometimes to visit her. The war Princess Marya looked on as women do look on war. She was apprehensive for her brother who was at the front, and was horrified, without understanding it, at the cruelty of men, that led them to kill one another. But she had no notion of the significance of this war, which seemed to her exactly like all the preceding wars. She had no notion of the meaning of this war, although Dessalle, who was her constant companion, was passionately interested in the course of the war, and tried to explain his views on the subject to her, and although “God's folk” all, with terror, told her in their own way of the rumours among the peasantry of the coming of Antichrist, and although Julie, now Princess Drubetskoy, who had renewed her correspondence with her, was continually writing her patriotic letters from Moscow.

“I write to you in Russian, my sweet friend,” Julie wrote, “because I feel a hatred for all the French and for their language too; I can't bear to hear it spoken. … In Moscow we are all wild with enthusiasm for our adored Emperor.

“My poor husband is enduring hardships and hunger in wretched Jewish taverns, but the news I get from him only increases my ardour.

“You have doubtless heard of the heroic action of Raevsky, who embraced his two sons and said, ‘We will die together, but we will not flinch!' And though the enemy were twice as strong, we did not in fact flinch. We kill time here as best we can; but in war, as in war. Princess Alina and Sophie spend whole days with me, and we, unhappy windows of living husbands, have delightful talks over scraping lint. We only want you, my darling, to make us complete,” etc., etc.

The principal reason why Princess Marya failed to grasp the significance of the war was that the old prince never spoke of it, refused to recognize its existence, and laughed at Dessalle when he mentioned the war at dinner-time. The prince's tone was so calm and confident that Princess Marya put implicit faith in him.

During the whole of July the old prince was excessively active and even lively. He laid out another new garden and a new wing for the servants. The only thing that made Princess Marya anxious about him was that he slept badly, and gave up his old habit of sleeping in his study, and had a bed made up for him in a new place every day. One night he would have his travelling bedstead set up in the gallery, the next night he would spend dozing dressed on the sofa or in the lounge-chair in the drawing-room, while the lad Petrushka, who had replaced Mademoiselle Bourienne in attendance on him, read aloud to him; then he would try spending a night in the dining-room.

On the first of August a second letter came from Prince Andrey. In his first letter, which had been received shortly after he left home, Prince Andrey had humbly asked his father's forgiveness for what he had permitted himself to say to him, and had begged to be restored to his favour. To this letter, the old prince had sent an affectionate answer, and from that time he had kept the Frenchwoman at a distance. Prince Andrey's second letter was written under Vitebsk, after the French had taken it. It consisted of a brief account of the whole campaign, with a plan sketched to illustrate it, and of reflections on the probable course it would take in the future. In this letter Prince Andrey pointed out to his father the inconvenience of his position close to the theatre of war, and in the direct line of the enemy's advance, and advised him to move to Moscow.

At dinner that day, on Dessalle's observing that he had heard that the French had already entered Vitebsk, the old prince recollected Prince Andrey's letter.

“I have heard from Prince Andrey to-day,” he said to Princess Marya; “have you read the letter?”

“No, mon pére,” the Princess answered timidly. She could not possibly have read the letter, of which indeed she had not heard till that instant.

“He writes about this war,” said the prince, with the contemptuous smile that had become habitual with him in speaking of the present war.

“It must be very interesting,” said Dessalle. “Prince Andrey is in a position to know. …”

“Ah, very interesting!” said Mademoiselle Bourienne.

“Go and get it for me,” said the old prince to Mademoiselle Bourienne. “You know, on the little table under the paper-weight.”

Mademoiselle Bourienne jumped up eagerly.

“Ah, no,” he shouted, frowning. “You run, Mihail Ivanitch!” Mihail Ivanitch got up and went to the study. But he had hardly left the room when the old prince, looking about him nervously, threw down his dinner napkin and went himself.

“They never can do anything, always make a muddle.”

As he went out, Princess Marya, Dessalle, Mademoiselle Bourienne, and even little Nikolushka, looked at one another without speaking. The old prince accompanied by Mihail Ivanitch came back with a hurried step, bringing the letter and a plan, which he laid beside him, and did not give to any one to read during dinner.

When they went into the drawing-room, he handed the letter to Princess Marya, and spreading out before him the plan of his new buildings, he fixed his eyes upon it, and told her to read the letter aloud.

After reading the letter, Princess Marya looked inquiringly at her father. He was gazing at the plan, evidently engrossed in his own ideas.

“What do you think about it, prince?” Dessalle ventured to inquire.

“I? eh? …” said the old prince, seeming to rouse himself with a painful effort, and not taking his eyes from the plan of the building.

“It is very possible that the field of operations may be brought so close to us …”

“Ha-ha-ha! The field of operations indeed!” said the old prince. “I have always said, and I say still, that the field of operations is bound to be Poland, and the enemy will never advance beyond the Niemen.” Dessalle looked in amazement at the prince, who was talking of the Niemen, when the enemy was already at the Dnieper. But Princess Marya, forgetting the geographical position of the Niemen, supposed that what her father said was true.

“When the snows thaw they'll drown in the marshes of Poland. It's only that they can't see it,” said the old prince, obviously thinking of the campaign of 1807, which seemed to him so recent. “Bennigsen ought to have entered Prussia earlier, and things would have taken quite another turn. …”

“But, prince!” said Dessalle timidly, “the letter speaks of Vitebsk. …”

“Ah, the letter? Yes, …” said the prince, with displeasure. “Yes … yes …” His face suddenly assumed a gloomy expression. He paused. “Yes, he writes, the French have been beaten. On what river was it?”

Dessalle dropped his eyes. “The prince says nothing about that,” he said gently.

“What, doesn't he? Why, you don't suppose I imagined it.”

Every one was for a long time silent.

“Yes … yes … Well, Mihail Ivanitch,” he said suddenly, raising his head and pointing to the plan of the building, “tell me how you propose to make that alteration. …”

Mihail Ivanitch went up to the plan, and the old prince, talking to him about it, went off to his own room, casting a wrathful glance at Princess Marya and Dessalle.

Princess Marya saw Dessalle's embarrassed and amazed expression as he looked at her father. She noticed his silence and was struck by the fact that her father had left his son's letter forgotten on the drawing-room table. But she was afraid to speak of it, to ask Dessalle the reason of his embarrassed silence, afraid even to think about it.

In the evening Mihail Ivanitch was sent by the prince to Princess Marya to ask for the letter that had been forgotten on the table. Princess Marya gave him the letter, and much as she disliked doing so, she ventured to ask what her father was doing

“Still very busy,” said Mihail Ivanitch, in a tone of deferential irony, that made her turn pale. “Worrying very much over the new wing. Been reading a little: but now” — Mihail Ivanitch dropped his voice — “he's at his bureau looking after his will, I expect.” One of the old prince's favourite occupations of late had been going over the papers which he meant to leave at his death, and called his “will.”

“And is Alpatitch being sent to Smolensk?” asked Princess Marya.

“To be sure; he's been waiting a long while for his orders.”

第二章

英文

儿子离家的第二天，尼古拉·安德烈伊奇公爵把玛丽亚公爵小姐叫到他自己跟前。

“怎么样，你现在满意了吧？”他对她说，“你使我同儿子吵了一架！满意了吧？你就需要这样！满意了吧？……真叫我痛心又痛心啊！我老了，不行了，这也是你所希望的。那么你就高兴了吧，得意了吧……”此后，玛丽亚公爵小姐有一个星期没有见到父亲。因为他生病了，没有离开过他的书房。

玛丽亚公爵小姐感到惊奇的是，她注意到，老公爵在生病期间也不让布里安小姐到他跟前去。只有吉洪一个人侍候他。

过了一周，公爵出来了，又开始了以前的生活。他特别积极地从事建筑和园艺方面的活动，而且断绝了他和布里安小姐过去的一切关系。他的神态和对玛丽亚公爵小姐冷淡的口气，好像是对她说：“你要知道，你对我胡乱猜想，向安德烈公爵胡说我和法国女人的关系，使得我同他吵架，而你知道了吧，我既不需要你，也不需要法国女人。”

玛丽亚公爵小姐每天一半时间和尼古卢什卡度过，照管他做功课，亲自教他俄语和音乐，并同德萨尔进行交谈，另外半天时间，她则看书，同老保姆在一起，有时又同从后门进来看她的神亲们一起消磨时间。

玛丽亚公爵小姐对战争的看法和一般妇女对战争的看法一样。她为参战的哥哥而担心，她为迫使人们互相屠杀的人世间的残忍既感到恐怖，却又不理解这次战争的意义，认为这跟过去的一切战争都是一样的。尽管非常关心战况的德萨尔经常和她交谈，极力向她说明他自己的想法，尽管前来看她的神亲们总是按照他们自己的看法，胆战心寒地讲述了有关基督的敌人入侵的民间传闻，尽管现在是德鲁别茨卡娅公爵夫人——朱莉又恢复了与她的信函往来，从莫斯科给她写来了许多爱国的信件，但是她仍然不理解这次战争的意义。

“我的好朋友！我现在用俄文给您写信，”——朱莉写道——“因为我恨所有的法国人，同样地恨他们的语言，我也听不得人家讲那种语言……，由于对我们所崇拜的皇帝的热情，我们在莫斯科都感到非常振奋。”

“我那可怜的丈夫现在住在犹太人的旅店里受苦挨饿，但是我所得到的种种信息更加使我鼓舞。”

“想必您听到了拉耶夫斯基的英雄事迹了，他曾抱着两个儿子说：我要和他们同归于尽，但我们决不动摇！的确，敌人的力量虽然比我们强一倍，可是我们却岿然不动。我们尽可能地消磨时间。但战时就像战时嘛？阿琳娜公爵小姐和索菲同我整天坐在一起，我们是不幸的守活寡的妇人，在作棉线团时①大家聊得兴致勃勃；只少您在这儿，我的朋友……”等等。玛丽亚公爵小姐之所以不理解这次战争的全部意义，主要是因为老公爵从来不谈战争，也不承认有战争，而且在吃饭时嘲笑谈论这次战争的德萨尔。老公爵的口气是如此之平静而又自信，以致玛丽亚公爵小姐毫无异议地相信他的话。

①旧时把破棉布撕下来代替药棉裹伤用的。

整个七月，老公爵都非常积极，甚至生气勃勃。他奠定了又一座新的花园和为仆人建造一座新的楼房的基础。唯一使玛丽亚公爵小姐感到不安的是，他睡眠很少了，并改变了他在书房里的习惯，而且每天都要更动自己过夜的地方。有时，他命令人在走廊里打开他的行军床；有时，他不脱衣服躺在客厅里的沙发上或者坐在伏尔泰椅上；有时，他不让布里安小姐，而是叫家童彼得鲁沙给他朗读；有时，他也就在食堂里过夜。

八月一日，收到安德烈公爵的第二封信。在他走后不久收到的第一封信里，安德烈公爵恭顺地请求父亲对他所说的话加以宽恕，并请求父亲恢复对他的宠爱。老公爵给他亲切地回了一封信，之后他就与法国女人疏远了。安德烈公爵的第二封信是在法军占领了维捷布斯克附近写的，信中简要地描写了战役的整个过程和战役示意图，以及对今后战局的看法。同时安德烈公爵在这封中还对他父亲说，他住的地方接近战场，正处在军事交通线路上，是很不利的，并且劝他父亲到莫斯科去。

在这天吃饭的时候，德萨尔说，他听到说法军已经入侵维捷布斯克，老公爵顿时想起了安德烈公爵的来信。

“今天收到了安德烈公爵的来信，”他对玛丽亚公爵小姐说，“你看过了吧？”

“没有过，mon　père．①。”公爵小姐吃惊地回答说。她未曾看过信，甚至关于收到信的事也没有听到过。

①法语：爸爸。

“他在信里又谈到这次战争，”公爵带着那已成为他习已为常，一提起目前的战争就露出轻蔑的微笑说。

“想必是很有趣的！”德萨尔说。“公爵会知道的……”

“啊，是非常有趣的？”布里安小姐说。

“您去给我把信拿来！”老公爵对布里安小姐说。“您是知道的，信就在小桌子上的压板下面。”

布里安小姐高兴地跳了起来。

“啊，不用去啦，”他愁眉不展，大声说道：“你去吧，米哈伊尔·伊万内奇！”

米哈伊尔·伊万内奇起身到书房去。他刚一出去，老公爵就神色不安地东张西望，扔下餐巾，亲自去取信。

他们什么都不会干，总是弄得乱七八糟。

在他走后，玛丽亚公爵小姐、德萨尔、布里安小姐，甚至于尼古卢什卡都沉默地交换着目光。老公爵由米哈伊尔·伊万内奇陪着，迈开急促的步伐回来了。他带着信和建房的计划、在吃饭的时候，把它们信放在身边，没让任何人看。

老公爵转回客厅后，他把信递给玛丽亚公爵小姐，然后把新的建房计划摊开，一面注视着建房计划，一面命令她大声读信，玛丽亚公爵小姐读完了信之后，疑问地看了看他的父亲。他在看建房计划，显然陷入了沉思。

“您对这个问题以为如何？公爵？”德萨尔以为可以提问。

“我？我？……”公爵说，好像不愉快地苏醒过来似的，但目光仍盯着建房的计划。

“很可能，战场就离我们不远了……”

“哈，哈，哈！战场！”公爵说，“我说过，现在还要说，战场在波兰，敌人永远不会越过涅曼河的。”

当敌人已经到了德聂伯河，德萨尔却惊讶地看了看还在说涅曼河的公爵；但是玛丽亚公爵小姐忘记了涅曼河的地理位置，以为她父亲说的话是对的。

“在冰雪融化的时候，他们就要陷入在波兰的沼泽地里。只不过他们未能看到这一点罢了。”老公爵说，显然是他想起了发生在一八○七年的战争，认为这是那么近。“贝尼格森本应早一点进入普鲁士，那情况就不同了……”

“但，公爵，”德萨尔胆怯地说，“信里提到的是维捷布斯克……”

“啊，信里提到了吗？是的……”公爵不满意地说，“是的……是的……”他的面容突然显出来阴沉的表情。他沉默了一会儿。“是的，他在信中写道，法军在哪条河上被击溃的呀？”

德萨尔垂下眼睛。

“公爵在信里并没有提到这件事。”他低声说。

“真的没有提到吗？哼，我才不会瞎编的。”

大家长时间地沉默不语。

“是的……是的……喂，米哈伊尔·伊万内奇，”他突然抬起头来，指着建房的计划说，“你说说，你想怎么改……”

米哈伊尔·伊万内奇走到那计划前面，公爵和他读了读新建房的计划，然后生气地看了看玛丽亚公爵小姐和德萨尔一眼，便到自己的房里去了。

玛丽亚公爵小姐看见，德萨尔把难为情的，吃惊的视线集中到她的父亲身上，同时也注意到了他沉默不语，并因为她父亲把儿子的信遗忘在客厅的桌子上而吃惊，但是她不但怕说到，怕问到德萨尔关于他的难为情和沉默不语的原因，而且她也怕想到这件事。

傍晚，米哈伊尔·伊万内奇被公爵派到玛丽亚公爵小姐那儿去取忘在客厅里的安德烈公爵的信。玛丽亚公爵小姐把信给了他。虽然对她这是不愉快的事，但是她还是敢于向米哈伊尔·伊万内奇询问她父亲现在在干什么。

“总是忙！”米哈伊尔·伊万内奇面带恭敬而又讥讽的笑容说，这就使得玛丽亚公爵小姐的面色发白了。“他对那幢新房很不放心，看了一会儿书，而现在。”米哈伊尔·伊万内奇压低了嗓音说，准是伏案写遗嘱吧！（近来公爵喜爱的工作之一是整理一些死后留传后世的文件，他称之为遗嘱。）”

“要派阿尔帕特奇到斯摩棱斯克去吗？”玛丽亚公爵小姐问。

“可不是，他已经等了好久。”

CHAPTER III

Chinese

WHEN MIHAIL IVANITCH went back to the study with the letter, the old prince was sitting in his spectacles with a shade over his eyes and shades on the candles, at his open bureau, surrounded by papers, held a long distance off. He was in a rather solemn attitude, reading the papers (the “remarks,” as he called them) which were to be given to the Tsar after his death.

When Mihail Ivanitch went in, there were tears in his eyes, called up by the memory of the time when he had written what he was now reading. He took the letter out of Mihail Ivanitch's hand, put it in his pocket, folded up his papers and called in Alpatitch, who had been waiting a long while to see him.

He had noted down on a sheet of paper what he wanted in Smolensk, and he began walking up and down the room, as he gave his instructions to Alpatitch, standing at the door.

“First, letter paper, do you hear, eight quires, like this pattern, you see; gilt edged … take the pattern, so as to be sure to match it; varnish, sealing-wax — according to Mihail Ivanitch's list.”

He walked up and down the room and glanced at the memorandum.

“Then deliver the letter about the enrolment to the governor in person.”

Then bolts for the doors of the new building were wanted, and must be of a new pattern, which the old prince had himself designed. Then an iron-bound box was to be ordered for keeping his will in.

Giving Alpatitch his instructions occupied over two hours. The prince still would not let him go. He sat down, sank into thought, and closing his eyes, dropped into a doze. Alpatitch made a slight movement.

“Well, go along, go along,” said the old prince; “if anything is wanted I'll send.”

Alpatitch went away. The prince went back to the bureau; glancing into it, he passed his hand over his papers, closed it again, and sat down to the table to write to the governor.

It was late when he sealed the letter and got up. He was sleepy, but he knew he would not sleep, and that he would be haunted by most miserable thoughts in bed. He called Tihon, and went through the rooms with him, to tell him where to make up his bed for that night. He walked about, measuring every corner.

There was no place that pleased him, but worst of all was the couch in the study that he had been used to. That couch had become an object of dread to him, probably from the painful thoughts he had thought lying on it. No place was quite right, but best of them all was the corner in the divan-room, behind the piano; he had never slept there yet.

Tihon brought the bedstead in with the footmen, and began putting it up.

“That's not right, that's not right!” cried the old prince. With his own hands he moved the bed an inch further from the corner, and then closer to it again.

“Well, at last, I have done everything; now I shall rest,” thought the prince, and he left it to Tihon to undress him.

Frowning with vexation at the effort he had to make to take off his coat and trousers, the prince undressed, dropped heavily down on his bed, and seemed to sink into thought, staring contemptuously at his yellow, withered legs. He was not really thinking, but simply pausing before the effort to lift his legs up and lay them in the bed. “Ugh, how hard it is! Ugh, if these toils could soon be over, and if you would let me go!” he mused. Pinching his lips tightly, he made that effort for the twenty thousandth time, and lay down. But he had hardly lain down, when all at once the bed seemed to rock regularly to and fro under him, as though it were heaving and jolting. He had this sensation almost every night. He opened his eyes that were closing themselves.

“No peace, damn them!” he grumbled, with inward rage at some persons unknown. “Yes, yes, there was something else of importance — something of great importance I was saving up to think of in bed. The bolts? No, I did speak about them. No, there was something, something in the drawing-room. Princess Marya talked some nonsense. Dessalle — he's a fool — said something, something in my pocket — I don't remember.”

“Tishka! what were we talking about at dinner?”

“About Prince Mihail …”

“Stay, stay” — the prince slapped his hand down on the table. “Yes, I know, Prince Andrey's letter. Princess Marya read it. Dessalle said something about Vitebsk. I'll read it now.”

He told Tihon to get the letter out of his pocket, and to move up the little table with the lemonade and the spiral wax candle on it, and putting on his spectacles he began reading. Only then in the stillness of the night, as he read the letter, in the faint light under the green shade, for the first time he grasped for an instant its meaning. “The French are at Vitebsk, in four days' march they may be at Smolensk; perhaps they are there by now. Tishka!” Tihon jumped up. “No, nothing, nothing!” he cried.

He put the letter under the candlestick and closed his eyes. And there rose before his mind the Danube, bright midday, the reeds, the Russian camp, and he, a young general, without one wrinkle on his brow, bold, gay, ruddy, entering Potyomkin's gay-coloured tent, and the burning sensation of envy of the favourite stirs within him as keenly as at the time. And he recalls every word uttered at that first interview with Potyomkin. And then he sees a plump, short woman with a sallow, fat face, the mother empress, her smiles and words at her first gracious reception for him; and then her face as she lay on the bier, and the quarrel with Zubov over her coffin for the right to kiss her hand

“Oh, to make haste, to make haste back to that time, and oh, that the present might soon be over and they might leave me in peace!”

第三章

英文

当米哈伊尔·伊万内奇拿着信回到书房的时候，公爵戴着眼镜和眼罩在蜡烛罩灯的前面，靠近打开的办公桌傍边坐着，拿着文件的手伸得很远，摆出一副有点儿庄严的姿势，在读他死后将呈送给皇帝御览的文件（他称之为说明书）。

米哈伊尔·伊万内奇进房时，公爵含着眼泪回忆他当初写的。而现在他看着的文件。后来他从米哈伊尔·伊万内奇手中拿到信，便放到衣袋里，搁好文件，才把等了好久的阿尔帕特奇叫来。

他在一张小纸条上写着去斯摩棱斯克要办的事，接着他在房里，一面从站在门边等候的阿尔帕特奇面前来回走动，一面发出命令。

“听着！信笺，要八帖，就是这个样品；金边的……一定要照这个样；清漆，火漆（封蜡）——按照米哈伊尔·伊万内奇开的单子办。”

他在房里走了一会儿，看了看备忘录。

“然后把关于证书的信亲自交给省长。”

随后是新房子门上需要的门闩，这些闩一定要照公爵亲自所定的式样去作。再就是定做一只盛放遗嘱的，且有装帧的匣子。

对阿尔帕特奇作的指示延续了两个多小时，公爵仍然没有把他放走。他坐下来沉思，闭目打盹。阿尔帕特奇不时动弹一下。

“好啦，走吧，走吧；如果还要什么，我会派人来叫你的。”

于是阿尔帕特奇出去了。公爵又到办公桌前，向它里面看了一下，摸了摸他的文件，然后又关上，便坐在桌傍给省长写信。

当他封好了信，站起来的时候，已经很晚了。他想要睡觉，但是他知道他睡不着，在床上会出现最坏的想法。他叫来了吉洪，同他一起走了几个房间，以便告诉他今晚把床放到哪里。他走来走去，打量着每个屋角。

他觉得到处都不好。最不好的是书房里他睡惯了的那张沙发。他觉得这张沙发很可怕，大概是因为他躺在上面反复思量过使人极不愉快的事情。什么地方都不好，但是最好的地方还是休息室大钢琴后面的那个角落，因为他还有在这里睡过。

吉洪和一个仆人搬来一张床，开始铺起来。

“不是这样！不是这样！”公爵大声说罢，便亲自把床拉得远离墙角的四分之一，然后又拉近一些。

“好，我终于把事做完了，现在我要休息了。”公爵想了想说，于是他让吉洪给他脱衣服。

由于脱上衣和裤子需要费力，公爵烦恼地皱着眉头，脱了衣服，他困难地往床上一坐，似乎在沉思，轻蔑地瞅着他那焦黄枯瘦的双腿。他不是在沉思，而是在拖延把两条腿费力地抬起来上床的时间。“啊呀；多么困难！啊呀，哪怕快一点结束这些劳动也好！您放我走吧！”他想，他咬紧嘴唇，费了九牛二虎之力才躺了下来。但是他刚一躺下，便突然觉得整个床就在他身子下面均匀地晃来晃去着，好像在沉重地喘气和冲撞。几乎每天夜里都是这样。他睁开了刚闭上的眼睛。

“不得安宁，该死的东西！”他愤怒地不知对谁埋怨了几句。“是的，是的，还有一件重要的事，而且非常重要，我留待夜里上了床才办的。门闩吗？不是，这件事我已交待过了。不是，大概还有那么一件事，在客厅里提到过的。玛丽亚公爵小姐不知因为什么撒了谎。德萨尔——这个傻瓜，不知说了点什么。衣袋里有点东西，——我记不得了。”

“季什卡！吃饭的时候讲到过什么？“

“讲到过米哈伊尔公爵……”

“别说了，别说了。”公爵用手拍桌子。“是的，我知道了，安德烈公爵的信，玛丽亚公爵小姐还念过。德萨尔不知说过维捷布斯克什么。现在我来念。”

他吩咐人把信从衣袋里拿出来，并把一张摆着一杯柠檬水和一支螺纹蜡烛的小桌子移到床边，便戴上眼镜，开始看起信来。在这个时候，他只有在夜深人静之中，在蓝灯罩下的弱光里看着信，这才第一次瞬间悟出信里说的意思。

“法军到了维捷布斯克，再过四昼夜的行程，他们就可能到斯摩棱斯克了；也许他们已经到那里了。”

“季什卡！”吉洪一跃而起。“不，不要了，不要了！”他大声说。

他把信藏在烛台下面，闭上了眼睛。于是他想起了多瑙河，明朗的中午，芦苇，俄国营地；他这个年轻的将军，脸上没有一条皱纹，精力充沛，心情愉快，面色红润，走进波将金的彩饰帐篷，对朝廷这个宠臣如火焚似的嫉妒心理强烈，现在仍然像当时一样使他激动。从而他回想起和波将金初次见面时所说的话，这时他眼前又出现那位个儿不高，胖脸蜡黄的皇太后，第一次亲切地接见他时露出的笑容和她说的话；同时他又回想起来她在灵台上的面容，以及在御棺傍边为了吻她的手的权利而与祖博夫之间发生冲突的情景。

“唉，快点，快点回到那个时代去吧，让现在的一切快一点，快一点结束吧！叫他们不要打搅我，让我安静一下吧！”

说真的,这本书我还没仔细的看过.真有点可惜了....

呵呵

是没时间看

CHAPTER IV

Chinese

BLEAK HILLS the estate of Prince Nikolay Andreitch Bolkonsky, was sixty versts from Smolensk, a little to the rear of it, and three versts from the main road to Moscow.

The same evening on which the old prince gave Alpatitch his instructions, Dessalle asked for a few words with Princess Marya, and told her that since the prince was not quite well and was taking no steps to secure his own safety, though from Prince Andrey's letter it was plain that to stay on at Bleak Hills was not free from danger, he respectfully advised her to write herself, and send by Alpatitch a letter to the governor at Smolensk, and to ask him to let her know the position of affairs and the degree of danger they were running at Bleak Hills. Dessalle wrote the letter to the governor for Princess Marya and she signed it, and the letter was given to Alpatitch with instructions to give it to the governor, and in case there was danger, to come back as quickly as possible.

When he had received all his orders, Alpatitch put on his white beaver hat — a gift from the prince — and carrying a stick in his hand, like the prince, went out, accompanied by all his household, to get into the leather gig harnessed to three sleek, roan horses.

The bells were tied up and stuffed with paper. The prince allowed no one at Bleak Hills to drive with bells. But Alpatitch loved to have bells ringing when he went a long journey. All Alpatitch's satellites, the counting-house clerk, the servants' cook and the head cook, two old women, a foot-boy, a coachman, and various other servants saw him off.

His daughter put chintz-covered, down pillows under him and behind his back. His old sister-in-law slyly popped in a kerchief full of things. One of the coachmen helped him to get in.

“There, there, women's fuss! Women folk, women folk!” said Alpatitch, puffing and talking rapidly, just as the old prince used to talk. He sat down in the gig, giving the counting-house clerk his last directions about the work to be done in the fields; and then dropping his imitation of the prince, Alpatitch took his hat off his bald head and crossed himself three times.

“If there's anything … you turn back, Yakov Alpatitch; for Christ's sake, think of us,” his wife called to him, alluding to the rumours of war and of the enemy near.

“Ah, these women and their fuss!” Alpatitch muttered to himself as he drove off, looking about him at the fields. He saw rye turning yellow, thick oats still green, and here and there patches still black, where they were only just beginning the second ploughing. Alpatitch drove on, admiring the crop of corn, singularly fine that season, staring at the rye fields, in some of which reaping was already beginning, meditating like a true husbandman on the sowing and the harvest, and wondering whether he had forgotten any of the prince's instructions. He stopped twice to feed his horses on the way, and towards the evening of the 4th of August reached the town.

All the way Alpatitch had met and overtaken waggons and troops, and as he drove into Smolensk he heard firing in the distance, but he scarcely heeded the sound. What struck him more than anything was that close to Smolensk he saw a splendid field of oats being mown down by some soldiers evidently for forage; there was a camp, too, pitched in the middle of it. This did make an impression upon Alpatitch, but he soon forgot it in thinking over his own affairs.

All the interests of Alpatitch's life had been for over thirty years bounded by the will of the prince, and he never stepped outside that limit. Anything that had nothing to do with carrying out the prince's orders had no interest, had in fact no existence for Alpatitch.

On reaching Smolensk on the evening of the 4th of August, Alpatitch put up where he had been in the habit of putting up for the last thirty years, at a tavern kept by a former house-porter, Ferapontov, beyond the Dnieper in the Gatchensky quarter. Twelve years before, Ferapontov had profited by Alpatitch's good offices to buy timber from the old prince, and had begun going into trade; and by now he had a house, an inn and a corn-dealer's shop in the town. Ferapontov was a stout, dark, ruddy peasant of forty, with thick lips, a thick, knobby nose, similar knobby bumps over his black, knitted brows, and a round belly.

He was standing in his print shirt and his waistcoat in front of his shop, which looked into the street. He saw Alpatitch, and went up to him.

“You're kindly welcome, Yakov Alpatitch. Folk are going out of the town, while you come into it,” said he.

“How's that? Out of town?” said Alpatitch.

“To be sure, I always say folks are fools. Always frightened of the French.”

“Women's nonsense, women's nonsense!” replied Alpatitch.

“That's just what I think, Yakov Alpatitch. I say there's a notice put up that they won't let them come in, so to be sure that's right. But the peasants are asking as much as three roubles for a cart and horse—they've no conscience!”

Yakov Alpatitch heard without heeding. He asked for a samovar, and for hay for his horses; and after drinking tea lay down to sleep.

All night long the troops were moving along the street by the tavern. Next day Alpatitch put on a tunic, which he kept for wearing in town, and went out to execute his commissions. It was a sunny morning, and by eight o'clock it was hot. “A precious day for the harvest,” as Alpatitch thought. From early morning firing could be heard from beyond the town.

At eight o'clock the boom of cannon mingled with the rattle of musketry. The streets were thronged with people, hurrying about, and also with soldiers, but drivers plied for hire, the shopkeepers stood at their shops, and services were being held in the churches just as usual. Alpatitch went to the shops, to the government offices, to the post and to the governor's. Everywhere that he went every one was talking of the war, and of the enemy who was attacking the town. All were asking one another what was to be done, and trying to calm each other's fears.

At the governor's house, Alpatitch found a great number of people, and saw Cossacks, and a travelling carriage belonging to the governor at the entrance. On the steps Yakov Alpatitch met two gentlemen, one of whom he knew. This gentleman, a former police-captain, was speaking with great heat.

“Well, this is no jesting matter,” he said. “Good luck for him who has only himself to think of. It's bad enough for one alone, but when one has a family of thirteen and a whole property.…Things have come to such a pass that we shall all be ruined; what's one to say of the government after that?…Ugh, I'd hang the brigands.…”

“Come, come, hush!” said the other.

“What do I care! let him hear! Why, we're not dogs!” said the former police-captain, and looking round, he caught sight of Alpatitch.

“Ah, Yakov Alpatitch, how do you come here?”

“By command of his excellency to his honour the governor,” answered Alpatitch, lifting his head proudly and putting his hand into his bosom, as he always did when he mentioned the old prince.…“His honour was pleased to bid me inquire into the position of affairs,” he said.

“Well, you may as well know then,” cried the gentleman; “they have brought matters to such a pass that there are no carts to be got, nothing!…That's it again, do you hear?” he said, pointing in the direction from which the sounds of firing came.

“They have brought us all to ruin…the brigands!” he declared again, and he went down the steps.

Alpatitch shook his head and went up. The waiting-room was full of merchants, women, and clerks, looking dumbly at one another. The door of the governor's room opened, all of them got up and made a forward movement. A clerk ran out of the room, said something to a merchant, called a stout official with a cross on his neck to follow him, and vanished again, obviously trying to avoid all the looks and the questions addressed to him. Alpatitch moved forward, and the next time the same clerk emerged, he put his hand into his buttoned coat, and addressed him, handing him the two letters.

“To his honour the Baron Ash from the general-in-chief Prince Bolkonsky,” he boomed out with so much pomposity and significance that the clerk turned to him and took the letters. A few minutes afterwards Alpatitch was shown into the presence of the governor, who said to him hurriedly, “Inform the prince and the princess that I knew nothing about it. I acted on the highest instructions—here.…”

He gave Alpatitch a document.

“Still, as the prince is not well my advice to him is to go to Moscow. I'm setting off myself immediately. Tell them…”But the governor did not finish; a dusty and perspiring officer ran into the room and began saying something in French. A look of horror came into the governor's face.

“You can go,” he said, nodding to Alpatitch, and he put some questions to the officer. Eager, panic-stricken, helpless glances were turned upon Alpatitch when he came out of the governor's room. Alpatitch could not help listening now to firing, which seemed to come closer and to be getting hotter, as he hurried back to the inn. The document the governor had given to Alpatitch ran as follows:

“I guarantee that the town of Smolensk is not in the slightest danger, and it is improbable that it should be threatened in any way. I myself from one side, and Prince Bagration from the other, will effect a junction before Smolensk on the 22nd instant, and both armies will proceed with their joint forces to defend their compatriots of the province under your government, till their efforts beat back the enemies of our country, or till their gallant ranks are cut down to the last warrior. You will see from this that you have a perfect right to reassure the inhabitants of Smolensk, as they are defended by two such valiant armies and can be confident of their victory.

(“By order of Barclay de Tolly to the civil governor of Smolensk. Baron Ash. 1812.”)

Crowds of people were moving uneasily about the streets. Waggons, loaded up with household crockery, chairs, and cupboards, were constantly emerging from the gates of houses, and moving along the streets. Carts were standing at the entrance of the house next to Ferapontov's, and women were wailing and exchanging good-byes. The yard dog was frisking about the horses, barking.

Alpatitch's step was more hurried than usual as he entered the yard, and went straight under the shed to his horses and cart. The coachman was asleep; he waked him up, told him to put the horses in, and went into the outer room of the house. In the private room of the family, he heard the wailing of children, the heartrending sobs of a woman, and the furious, husky shouting of Ferapontov. The cook came fluttering into the outer room like a frightened hen, just as Alpatitch walked in.

“He's beating her to death—beating the mistress!…He's beaten her so, thrashed her so!…”

“What for?” asked Alpatitch.

“She kept begging to go away. A woman's way! Take me away, says she; don't bring me to ruin with all my little children; folks are all gone, says she, what are we about? So he fell to beating her…beating and thrashing her!”

Alpatitch nodded his head, apparently in approval at those words; and not caring to hear more he went towards the door on the opposite side leading to the room in which his purchases had been left.

“Wretch, villain,” screamed a thin, pale woman, bursting out at that moment with a child in her arms and her kerchief torn off her head. She ran down the steps into the yard. Ferapontov was going after her, but seeing Alpatitch, he pulled down his waistcoat, smoothed his hair, yawned and followed Alpatitch into the room.

“Do you want to be getting off already?” he asked. Without answering the question or looking round at him, Alpatitch collected his purchases and asked how much he owed him.

“We'll reckon up! Been at the governor's, eh?” asked Ferapontov. “What did you hear?”

Alpatitch replied that the governor had told him nothing definite.

“How are we to pack up and go with our business?” said Ferapontov. “Seven roubles to pay for cartage to Dorogobuzh. What I say is: they have no conscience!” said he. “Selivanov, he did a good turn on Friday, sold flour to the army for nine roubles the sack. What do you say to some tea?” he added. While the horses were being harnessed, Alpatitch and Ferapontov drank tea and discussed the price of corn, the crops, and the favourable weather for the harvest.

“It's getting quieter though,” said Ferapontov, getting up after drinking three cups of tea. “I suppose, our side has got the best of it. It's been said they won't let them in. So we're in force it seems.…The other day they were saying Matvey Ivanitch Platov drove them into the river Marina: eighteen thousand of them he drowned in one day.”

Alpatitch gathered up his purchases, handed them to the coachman, and settled his accounts with Ferapontov. There was the sound of wheels and hoofs and the ringing of bells as the gig drove out of the gates.

It was by now long past midday, half the street lay in shadow, while half was in brilliant sunshine. Alpatitch glanced out of the window and went to the door. All of a sudden there came a strange sound of a faraway hiss and thump, followed by the boom of cannons, mingling into a dim roar that set the windows rattling.

Alpatitch went out into the street; two men were running along the street towards the bridge. From different sides came the hiss and thud of cannon balls and the bursting of grenades, as they fell in the town. But these sounds were almost unheard, and the inhabitants scarcely noticed them, in comparison with the boom of the cannons they heard beyond the town. It was the bombardment, which Napoleon had ordered to be opened upon the town at four o'clock from one hundred and thirty cannons. The people did not at first grasp the meaning of this bombardment.

The sounds of the dropping grenades and cannon balls at first only excited the curiosity of the people. Ferapontov's wife, who had till then been wailing in the shed, ceased, and with the baby in her arms went out to the gate, staring in silence at the people, and listening to the sounds.

The cook and shopman came out to the gate. All of them were trying with eager curiosity to get a glimpse of the projectiles as they flew over their heads. Several persons came round the corner in eager conversation.

“What force!” one was saying; “roof and ceiling were smashed up to splinters.”

“Like a pig routing into the earth, it went!” said another.

“Isn't it first-rate? Wakes one up!” he said laughing.

“It's as well you skipped away or it would have flattened you out.”

Others joined this group. They stopped and described how a cannon ball had dropped on a house close to them. Meanwhile other projectiles—now a cannon ball, with rapid, ominous hiss, and now a grenade with a pleasant whistle—flew incessantly over the people's heads: but not one fell close, all of them flew over. Alpatitch got into his gig. Ferapontov was standing at the gate.

“Will you never have done gaping!” he shouted to the cook, who in her red petticoat, with her sleeves tucked up and her bare elbows swinging, had stepped to the corner to listen to what was being said.

“A wonder it is!” she was saying, but hearing her master's voice, she came back, pulling down her tucked-up skirt.

Again something hissed, but very close this time, like a bird swooping down; there was a flash of fire in the middle of the street, the sound of a shot, and the street was filled with smoke.

“Scoundrel, what are you about?” shouted Ferapontov, running up to the cook.

At the same instant there rose a piteous wailing from the women; the baby set up a terrified howling, and the people crowded with pale faces round the cook. Above them all rose out of the crowd the moans and cries of the cook.

“O-o-oy, good kind souls, blessed friends! don't let me die! Good kind souls!…”

Five minutes later no one was left in the street. The cook, with her leg broken by the bursting grenade, had been carried into the kitchen. Alpatitch, his coachman, Ferapontov's wife and children and the porter were sitting in the cellar listening. The thunder of the cannon, the hiss of the balls, and the piteous moaning of the cook, which rose above all the noise, never ceased for an instant. Ferapontov's wife alternately dandled and soothed her baby, and asked in a frightened whisper of every one who came into the cellar where was her husband, who had remained in the street. The shopman told her the master had gone with the crowd to the cathedral, where they were raising on high the wonder-working, holy picture of Smolensk.

Towards dusk the cannonade began to subside. Alpatitch came out of the cellar and stood in the doorway.

The clear evening sky was all overcast with smoke. And a new crescent moon looked strange, shining high up in the sky, through that smoke. After the terrible thunder of the cannons had ceased, a hush seemed to hang over the town, broken only by the footsteps, which seemed all over the town, the sound of groans and distant shouts, and the crackle of fires. The cook's moans had ceased now. On two sides black clouds of smoke from fires rose up and drifted away. Soldiers in different uniforms walked and ran about the streets in different directions, not in ranks, but like ants out of a disturbed ant heap. Several of them ran in Ferapontov's yard before Alpatitch's eyes. He went out to the gate. A regiment, crowded and hurrying, blocked up the street, going back.

“The town's surrendered; get away, get away,” said an officer noticing his figure; and turning immediately to the soldiers, he shouted, “I'll teach you to run through the yards!”

Alpatitch went back to the house, and calling the coachman told him to set off. Alpatitch and the coachman were followed out by all the household of Ferapontov. When they saw the smoke and even the flames of burning houses, which began to be visible now in the dusk, the women, who had been silent till then, broke into a sudden wail, as they gazed at the fires. As though seconding them, similar wails rose up in other parts of the street. Alpatitch and the coachman with trembling hands pulled out the tangled reins and the traces of the horses under the shed.

As Alpatitch was driving out of the gate, he saw about a dozen soldiers in loud conversation in Ferapontov's open shop. They were filling their bags and knapsacks with wheaten flour and sunflower seeds. At that moment Ferapontov returned and went into the shop. On seeing the soldiers, he was about to shout at them, but all at once he stopped short, and clutching at his hair broke into a sobbing laugh.

“Carry it all away, lads! Don't leave it for the devils,” he shouted, snatching up the sacks himself and pitching them into the street. Some of the soldiers ran away in a fright, others went on filling up their bags. Seeing Alpatitch, Ferapontov turned to him.

“It's all over with Russia!” he shouted. “Alpatitch! it's all over! I'll set fire to it myself. It's over…”Ferapontov ran into the house.

An unbroken stream of soldiers was blocking up the whole street, so that Alpatitch could not pass and was obliged to wait. Ferapontov's wife and children were sitting in a cart too, waiting till it was possible to start.

It was by now quite dark. There were stars in the sky, and from time to time the new moon shone through the veil of smoke. Alpatitch's and his hostess's vehicles moved slowly along in the rows of soldiers and of other conveyances, and on the slope down to the Dnieper they had to halt altogether. In a lane not far from the cross-roads where the traffic had come to a full stop, there were shops and a house on fire. The fire was by now burning down. The flame died down and was lost in black smoke, then flared up suddenly, lighting up with strange distinctness the faces of the crowd at the cross-roads. Black figures were flitting about before the fire, and talk and shouts could be heard above the unceasing crackling of the flames. Alpatitch, seeing that it would be some time before his gig could move forward, got out and went back to the lane to look at the fire. Soldiers were scurrying to and fro before the fire; and Alpatitch saw two soldiers with a man in a frieze coat dragging burning beams from the fire across the street to a house near, while others carried armfuls of hay.

Alpatitch joined a great crowd of people standing before a high corn granary in full blaze. The walls were all in flames; the back wall had fallen in; the plank roof was breaking down, and the beams were glowing. The crowd were evidently watching for the moment when the roof would fall in. Alpatitch too waited to see it.

“Alpatitch!” the old man suddenly heard a familiar voice calling to him.

“Mercy on us, your excellency,” answered Alpatitch, instantly recognising the voice of his young master.

Prince Andrey, wearing a cape, and mounted on a black horse, was in the crowd, and looking at Alpatitch.

“How did you come here?” he asked.

“Your…your excellency!” Alpatitch articulated, and he broke into sobs.…“Your, your…is it all over with us, really? Master…”

“How is it you are here?” repeated Prince Andrey. The flames flared up at that instant, and Alpatitch saw in the bright light his young master's pale and worn face. Alpatitch told him how he had been sent to the town and had difficulty in getting away.

“What do you say, your excellency, is it all over with us?” he asked again.

Prince Andrey, making no reply, took out his note-book, and raising his knee, scribbled in pencil on a leaf he had torn out. He wrote to his sister:

“Smolensk has surrendered,” he wrote. “Bleak Hills will be occupied by the enemy within a week. Set off at once for Moscow. Let me know at once when you start; send a messenger to Usvyazh.”

Scribbling these words, and giving Alpatitch the paper, he gave him further directions about sending off the old prince, the princess and his son with his tutor, and how and where to let him hear, as soon as they had gone. Before he had finished giving those instructions, a staff officer, followed by his suite, galloped up to him.

“You a colonel,” shouted the staff officer, in a voice Prince Andrey knew speaking with a German accent. “Houses are being set on fire in your presence and you stand still! What's the meaning of it? You will answer for it,” shouted Berg, who was now assistant to the head of the staff of the assistant of the chief officer of the staff of the commander of the left flank of the infantry of the first army, a very agreeable and prominent position, so Berg said.

Prince Andrey stared at him, and without making any reply went on addressing Alpatitch.

“Tell them then that I shall wait for an answer till the 10th, and if I don't receive news by the 10th, that they have all gone away, I shall be obliged to throw up everything and go myself to Bleak Hills.”

“Prince,” said Berg, recognising Prince Andrey, “I only speak because it's my duty to carry out my instructions, because I always do exactly carry out…You must please excuse me,” Berg tried to apologise.

There was a crash in the fire. The flames subsided for an instant; black clouds of smoke rolled under the roof. There was another fearful crash, and the falling of some enormous weight.

“Ooo-roo!” the crowd yelled, as the ceiling of the granary fell in, and a smell of baked cakes rose from the burning wheat. The flames flared up again, and lighted up the delighted and careworn faces of the crowd around it.

The man in the frieze coat, brandishing his arms in the air, was shouting:

“First-rate! Now she's started! First-rate, lads!…” “That's the owner himself,” murmured voices.

“So you tell them everything I have told you,” said Prince Andrey, addressing Alpatitch. And without bestowing a word on Berg, who stood mute beside him, he put spurs to his horse and rode down the lane.

第四章

英文

尼古拉·安德烈伊奇·博尔孔斯基公爵的庄园、童山，在斯摩棱斯克背后六十俄里，离莫斯科大道三俄里。

就在公爵给阿尔帕特奇作指示的那天晚上，德萨尔求见玛丽亚公爵小姐，告诉她说，鉴于公爵健康欠佳，而且对自己的安全也未采取任何措施，而据安德烈公爵的来信看，显然留在童山是不安全的，因此他恭敬地劝她亲自给总督写一封信，让阿尔帕特奇带到斯摩棱斯克，求他把战局和童山所受到的威胁程度告诉她。德萨尔替玛丽亚公爵小姐代笔写了一封信给总督的信，由她签了名，才把这封信交给阿尔帕特奇，命令他呈送总督。如遇到危险，就尽快赶回来。

阿尔帕特奇接到指示后，就戴上白绒毛帽子（公爵的礼物），像公爵似的拿着手杖，由家里的人伴送，一出门就坐上了驾三匹肥壮的、毛色黄褐而黑鬃的马拉的皮篷马车。

大铃铛包了起来，小铃铛也塞满了纸，因为公爵不让人在童山坐带铃铛的马车。但是阿尔帕特奇却喜欢在出远门时乘坐的车带着大小的铃铛。阿尔帕特奇的“朝臣”们——行政长官，事务员，厨娘（一黑一白的两个老太太），哥萨克小孩，马车夫以及各种农奴；都出来为他送行。

他的女儿把印花色彩的鸭绒坐垫放在他背靠背后面和身下，老姨子还偷偷地塞给他一小包东西。然后才由一个马车夫搀扶着他上车。

“嘿，老娘儿们全出动！老娘儿们，老娘儿们！”阿尔帕特奇正像老公爵，气喘吁吁地、急促地说了才坐上车去。同时对行政长官作了有关事务性的最后指示。这次他不再照公爵那样了，从秃头上取下帽子，画了三次十字。

“您，如果有什么……您就回来吧，雅科夫·阿尔帕特奇；看在基督的面上，可怜可怜我们吧！”他的妻子向他叫喊道，暗示他有关战争和敌人的流言。

“老娘儿们，老娘儿们，老娘儿们全出动！”阿尔帕特奇自言自语说罢，上路后，他环顾着四周的田野，有的地方黑麦已经黄熟，有的地方是青枝绿叶茂密的燕麦，有的地方还是刚刚开始再耕的黑土。阿尔帕特奇坐在车上欣赏着当年春播作物少有的好收成，仔细瞧了瞧黑麦田的地块，有几处已经开始收割，于是他用心盘算着播和收获，然后又想到有没有忘记公爵的什么吩咐。

路上喂过两次马，八月四日傍晚，阿尔帕特奇到了城里。

在途中，阿尔帕特奇遇到并越过了辎重车和军队。他快到斯摩棱斯克时，听到了远处的枪声，但枪声并没有使他吃惊。使他最吃惊的是他临近斯摩棱斯克时，看见有些士兵正在割一片长势很好的燕麦，显然是用来喂马的。而燕麦地里还驻着一个兵营；这种情况使阿尔帕特奇大吃一惊；但是他一心想着自己的事，很快就把它忘掉了。

阿尔帕特奇三十多年的一切生活兴趣，只局限于公爵的心愿范围内，他从来没有超越出这个范围。凡是与执行公爵的命令无关的事，他不仅不感兴趣，而且对阿尔帕特奇来说是不存在的。

八月四日傍晚，阿尔帕特奇到达斯摩棱斯克，住宿在德聂伯河对岸的加钦斯克郊区，费拉蓬托夫的旅店里，三十年来他在这里住习惯了。十二年前，费拉蓬托夫沾了阿尔帕特奇的光，从公爵手里买下了一片小树林，开始做生意，如今在省城里已经有了一所房子，一家旅店和一爿面粉店。费拉蓬托夫是一个身体肥胖、面色黑红，四十来岁的庄稼汉，他嘴唇粗厚，鼻子俨如一颗粗大的肉瘤，皱起的浓眉上方也长着有同样粗大的两个肉瘤，此外还有一个凸起的大肚子。

身穿背心和印花衬衫的费拉蓬托夫，站在面临大街的面粉店的傍边，他看见了阿尔帕特奇，便向他走过去。

“欢迎，欢迎，雅科夫·阿尔帕特奇！人家都出城，你倒进城来。”店主说。

“为什么要出城？”阿尔帕特奇问道。

“我也说嘛，老百姓太愚蠢！还不是怕法国人呗！”

“老娘儿们的见识，老娘儿们的见识！”阿尔帕特奇说。

“我也是这么推想的，雅科夫·阿尔帕特奇。我说，有了命令不让他们进来，那就是说，这是对的。但是庄稼汉要三个卢布的车费，因为他们真是天良丧尽！”

雅科夫·阿尔帕特奇漫不经心地听着。他要了一壶茶和喂马的干草，然后喝足了茶，便躺下睡觉了。

通宵达旦，军队都在街上不停地从旅店傍边走过。第二天，阿尔帕特奇穿上只有在城里才穿的坎肩，出门去办事。早晨阳光灿烂，八点钟就很热了。阿尔帕特奇认为，是收割庄稼的好日子。从早晨起就听得见城外的枪声。

从早晨八点开始，步枪声中夹杂着大炮的轰鸣，街上有许多不知往何处急急忙忙走着的行人，也还有士兵，但仍和平时一样，马车来来往往，商人站在店铺里，教堂里做礼拜。阿尔帕特奇走遍商店、政府机关和邮局，并看望了总督。在政府机关、商店和邮局里，大家都在谈论军队，谈论已经开始攻城的敌人；大家都在互相探询应该怎么办，大家都在竭力互相安慰安慰。

阿尔帕特奇在总督住它的前边发现有许多人，哥萨克士兵和总督的一辆旅行马车。雅科夫·阿尔帕特奇在台阶上遇到两个贵族绅士，其中有一个他认识。他认识的那个贵族绅士过去当过县警察局长，正在激动地说：

“要知道，这不是闹着玩的！”他说，“单独一个人谁都好办。一个人倒霉一人当，可是一家十三口人，还有全部的财产……弄得家破人亡，这算个什么长官呀？……哎，就该绞死这帮强盗……”

“行啦！得啦！”另一位贵族绅士说。

“我犯什么法，让他听见好了！我们又不是狗。”前任警察局长说罢，便回头看了一下，看见了阿尔帕特奇。

“啊，雅科夫·阿尔帕特奇，你来干什么？”

“奉公爵大人之命，前来拜见总督先生。”阿尔帕特奇回答后，才傲慢地抬起头来，把一只手放在怀里，每当他提起公爵时，总是摆出这个模样……“派我来打听一下战役的局势。”他说。

“是的，你就打听去吧！”在场的一位地主大声说，“他们弄得一辆大车也没有了，甚至什么东西也没有了！……这不是，你听见了吗？”他指着传来枪声的方向说。

“弄得大家全都给毁了……狗强盗！”他又说了几句，然后才走下台阶。

阿尔帕特奇摇了摇头，便上楼去了。在接待室里有商人、妇女、官吏，他们都相视沉默不语。办公室的门开了，大家都站起来向前移动。从门里跑出来一个官吏，同一位商人说了几句话，叫了一个脖子上挂着十字架的胖官吏跟他来，又进到门里去了。显然是避免大家投向地的目光和向他提出问题。阿尔帕特奇向前移动了一下，在那位官吏再走出来时，他把一只手插进扣着的常礼服的胸襟里，向官吏打了招呼，并递给他两封信。

“这是博尔孔斯基公爵上将递交给阿什男爵先生的信。”他这样郑重而又意味深长地宣告，以致那位官吏便转向他，把信接过去。过了几分钟，总督就接见了阿尔帕特奇，并匆匆忙忙地对他说。

“请向公爵和公爵小姐禀报，就说我什么都不知道，因为我是遵照最高当局的命令行动的——你看就是……”

接着他递给阿尔帕特奇一份公文。

“不过，因为公爵健康欠佳，我劝他去莫斯科。我也马上就要走了。请禀告……”但是总督话还没有说完，一个灰尘垢面，浑身大汗的军官跑进门来，开始用法语说了几句不知什么话。总督的脸上现出惊骇万分的神情。

“去吧！”他向阿尔帕特奇点了点头说话后，又开始向那位军官询问什么。当他走出总督办公室的时候，那些渴求、惊慌，孤立无援的目光都投到阿尔帕特奇的身上。阿尔帕特奇不由自主地谛听着这时离得很近的、仍然是猛烈的枪炮声，他急忙赶回旅店。总督给阿尔帕特奇的公文如下：

“我向您保证，斯摩棱斯克城现在还没有面临丝毫的危险，可能受到威胁也令人难于置信。我从一方面，巴格拉季翁公爵从另一方面于二十二日在斯摩棱斯前面会师，从而两军联合兵力共同保卫贵省的同胞，直到我们努力把祖国的敌人击退，或者我们英勇的队伍一直战斗到最后一个人。由此可见，您有充分的权力安慰斯摩棱斯克的市民。因为受到如此英勇军队保卫的人，可以相信他们会获得胜利。”（巴克莱·德·托利给斯摩棱斯克总督阿什男爵的训令。一八一二年）。

人们神情不安地在街上走来走去。

满载着家用食具，坐椅和柜子的大车，不断地从住宅的大门里开出来，沿街行驶。在费拉蓬托夫家隔壁的门前，停着几辆马车，妇女们一面互道再见，一面嚎哭着说话。一条看家狗在驾上马拉的马车前叫着转来转去。

阿尔帕特奇迈着比平时更为匆忙的步伐向旅店走进去，直接走到停放他的车马棚那里。车夫睡着了，他叫醒他，吩咐套马，然后走进穿堂。在店主的正房里听见有个孩子的哭声，一个妇女撕肝裂肺的号啕声，费拉蓬托夫嘶哑的愤怒的尖叫声。这时阿尔帕特奇刚一进门来，厨娘像一只受惊的母鸡一样，正在穿堂里乱窜。

“打死人了，——老板娘给打死了！……又打，又拖啊！

……”

“为了什么？”阿尔帕特奇问。

“她央求离开这里。妇道人家嘛！她说；你带我走吧！不要让我和小孩子们一起都毁掉了吧；人家都走光了，她又说，咱们干吗不走？于是就开始打她了。而且又打；又拖呀！”

阿尔帕特奇听到这番话后，好像是赞同地点了点头，但又不想再听下去，便向对面店主正房的门口走去，因为他买的东西放在这里。

“你这个恶棍，凶手！”这时，有个瘦削、脸色苍白的女人，手中抱着一个孩子，头巾从头上扯了下来，她一面叫喊道，一面从门里冲出来，下了台阶便向院子里跑去，费拉蓬托夫跟着追她，一见到阿尔帕特奇，他便理了理背心和头发，打了个呵欠，就尾随阿尔帕特奇进屋去了。

“难道你就想走了吗？”他问。

阿尔帕特奇既不答话，也未回头看一下店主，只顾查看自己买好的东西，问店主应付多少房钱。

“算一下吧！怎么样，到总督那里去了吗？”费拉蓬托夫问，“有什么决定吗？”

阿尔帕特奇回答说，总督根本没对他说什么。

“干我们这一行的，难道能搬走吗？”费拉蓬托夫说。“到多罗戈布日租辆大车得付七个卢布。所以我说，他们丧尽天良！”他说。

“谢利瓦诺夫星期四投了个机，面粉卖给军队，九卢布一袋，怎么样，您要喝茶吗？”他补充说。套马的时候，阿尔帕特奇和费拉蓬托夫一同喝茶，谈论粮价、收成和适于收割的好天气。

“到底还是停下来了！”费拉蓬托夫喝完了三杯茶，站起来说，“一定是我们的军队打胜了。已经说了，不让他们进来嘛。这就是说，我们有能力……前些日子，据说马特维·伊万内奇·普拉托夫①把他们赶到了马里纳河里，一天淹死一万八千左右的人，难道不是！”

①马·伊·普拉托夫（1761～1818），俄国骑兵将领，一八一二年在与法军作战中战功卓著，是当时顿河哥萨克人民军的发起者和组织者。

阿尔帕特奇收拾好买的东西，交给进房来的车夫，同店主结清了账。一辆轻便马车驶出大门，传来车轮、马蹄和小铃铛的声音。

早就过了晌午了，街的一半是阴影，街的另一边则被太阳照得明亮亮的。阿尔帕特奇向窗外望了一眼，便向门口走去。突然听见有叫人觉得奇怪地、远方传来的呼啸声和碰撞声，随后又传来了一阵震动玻璃窗的炮弹的隆隆声。

阿尔帕特奇走到街上，街上有两个人向大桥跑去。四面八方传来了炮弹的嗖嗖声、轰隆声以及落在城内的榴弹爆炸声。但是这些声音和城外的枪炮声比起来，几乎是听不见的，不为市民所注意的。这是下午四点钟拿破仑下令，用一百三十尊大炮向这座城市轰击。起初，老百姓还不理解这次轰击的意义。

榴弹和炮弹降落的声音，开始只引起了人们的好奇心。费拉蓬托夫的妻子在板棚里不停地哭到现在，她也不作声了，抱着孩子向大门口走去，默默地望着行人，倾听着枪炮声。

厨娘和一个伙计也来到大门口。大家都怀着愉快的好奇心情，竭力看一看从他们头上飞过去的炮弹。从街的拐角处过来几个人，他们正在兴奋地谈论着什么。

“这真威力大！”有一个人说，“把房顶和天花板都打得碎片纷飞。”

“像猪拱土一样。”另一个人说。

“多么带劲！好大的威力！”他笑着说。

“好在你跳开了，否则会把你炸得稀巴烂！”

人们都朝这两个人看着。他们停了下来，讲到有一发炮弹正落在他们身边的房屋上的情景。这时，又有一些炮弹不停地从人们头上飞过，时而发出迅速沉闷的啸声，这是一种圆形炮弹，时而听到悦耳的呼啸，这是一种榴弹；但是没有一发炮弹落在附近，都飞过去了。阿尔帕特奇坐上皮篷马车走了，店主仍站在门前。

“没有什么可看的！”他对厨娘喊道。那个厨娘穿着红裙子，卷起袖子，摇摆着两只裸露的胳膊肘，走到角落里，听他们说话。

“这真奇怪！”她说。但是她听到主人的声音，便放下撩起的裙子，走回来了。

又响起了嗖嗖的呼啸声，但这一次离得很近，好像飞鸟俯冲一样，只见街心火光一闪，不知什么东西爆炸开了，顿时街上弥漫着硝烟。

“混蛋，你这是干什么？”店主喊叫一声，便向厨娘跑去。

就在这一瞬间，四面八方的妇女都悲惨地呼号，一个小孩也惊恐地哭起来，人们面色苍白，默默地群集在厨娘的周围。在这一人群之中，厨娘的呻吟声和说话声听起来至今清晰。

“唉哟，我的好人啊！我的亲人啊！别让我死啊！我的好人啊！……”

五分钟后，街上空无一人。榴弹碎片打伤了厨娘的大腿，有人把她抬到厨房里。阿尔帕特奇、他的车夫、费拉蓬托夫的妻子和几个孩子们，还有看门的都坐在地窖里听候外面的动静。隆隆的炮声、炮弹的呼啸声和厨娘比其他人的声音都高的、可怜的哀号声，一刻也没有停止过。旅店老板娘时而摇晃哄着孩子，时而用可怜的低语问所有进地窖的人，她的留在街上的丈夫在哪里。进地窖的伙计告诉她说，店主和其他人都到大教堂那里抬斯摩棱斯克显灵的圣像去了。

接近黄昏时，炮弹声开始平静下来。阿尔帕特奇从地窖里走出来，站在门口边。开初明朗的夜空还弥漫着烟雾，然后一轮新月高悬中天，透过烟雾奇异地闪光。在原先可怕的炮声停止后，城市的上空显得寂静了，好像只有满城的脚步声，呻吟声，遥远的喊叫声和着大的毕剥声打破了沉寂。厨娘的呻吟声现在也静下来了。有两处、团团的黑烟腾空而起，扩散开来。穿着各种制服的士兵，好像是从捣毁了的蚁巢中逃出来的蚂蚁一样，不成队列地朝着不同的方向，走的走，跑的跑。阿尔帕特奇亲眼看见其中几个士兵向费拉蓬托夫的院子跑去。而他也走到大门口去了。有一个团前拥后挤地匆忙往后撤退，把街道都堵塞起来了。

“这个城市放弃了，走吧，走吧！”那个看见他的身影的军官向他说，立刻又转身喝开那些士兵：

“我让你们向人家院子里跑去的！”他大喝一声。

阿尔帕特奇回到屋里，叫了车夫，吩咐他赶车上路。费拉蓬托夫全家人都跟着阿尔帕特奇和车夫走出门来。一直默不作声的妇女们，一看见滚滚的浓烟，特别是看见这时在暮色中已经很明显的大焰，就望着大火的地方哭起来了。街道别的角落里也传来了同样的哭声，似乎同她们遥相呼应。阿尔帕特奇和车夫在屋檐下用颤抖的双手整理着缠结的缠绳和挽索。

阿尔帕特奇从大门出来坐上车走时，看到费拉蓬托夫敞开的店里有十来个士兵，一面大声说话，一面把面粉和葵花子装进口袋和背包。那时，费拉蓬托夫从街上回来，走进店里。他看见士兵之后，本想要喊叫一声什么，可他突然停了下来，抓住头发，又哭又哈哈大笑起来。

“把东西都拿走吧，弟兄们！不要留给魔鬼！”他喊叫道，并亲自搬了几袋面粉扔到街上。有的士兵吓跑了，有的士兵还在装。费拉蓬托夫看见了阿尔帕特奇，便转身对他说。

“完了！俄罗斯！”他大喊大叫。“阿尔帕特奇！完了！我要亲自来放火。完了……”费拉蓬托夫跑进院子里去了。

士兵川流不息地在街上走过，堵塞了整个街道，因此阿尔帕特奇过不去，一定得等着。费拉蓬托夫的妻子带着孩子们也坐在一辆大车上，等到通行时才过去。

已经完全是黑夜了。天空出现了星星，新月不时地从烟雾中闪现出来。在通往德聂伯河的斜坡上，阿尔帕特奇和店主妻子的车辆，在士兵和别的车辆中间缓缓地移动着，有时一定得停下来。离停车的十字路口不远的一条胡同里，一处住宅和几家店铺在着火，但火快要燃尽。有时火焰熄灭，消失在黑烟里，有时又忽然明亮地燃烧。极其清晰地照耀挤在十字路口的人的脸上。火场前边隐约有几个黑的人影，透过火焰不停的哔剥声，听得见人们的谈话声和喊叫声。阿尔帕特奇见他的车子一时过不去，就从车上下来，拐到胡同里去看火。士兵不断地在火旁前后乱窜，阿尔帕特奇看见两个士兵和一个穿厚呢子军大衣的人从火场里拖出一段燃着的圆木，另外几个人抱着干草到街的对面的院子里去。

阿尔帕特奇走到一大群人那里，他们站在一个全部燃烧得正旺的高大的仓库对面，墙都在火里，后墙倒塌了，木板房顶也塌陷了，椽子都在燃烧。显然，人群都在等待屋顶塌下来。阿尔帕特奇也在等这个时刻。

“阿尔帕特奇！”突然一个熟悉的声音在叫老人的名字。

“我的天啊，原来是公爵大人！”阿尔帕特奇回答说，他立刻就听出来是小公爵的声音。

安德烈公爵穿着外套，骑着一匹乌黑的马，正站在人群后边望着阿尔帕特奇。

“你怎么到这儿来了！”他问。

“公……公爵大人！”阿尔帕特奇说着说着说哭起来了……“公……公爵大人，我们完蛋了吗？我的上帝！……”

“你怎么到这儿来了！”安德烈公爵又问。

这时，火焰明亮地燃烧起来，照亮了阿尔帕特奇的小主人苍白而憔悴的脸。阿尔帕特奇讲了，他是怎样被派到这里，又好不容易才走了出来。

“怎么，公爵大人，我们真的完蛋了吗？”他又问。

安德烈公爵没有作回答，他掏出笔记本，抬起膝盖，在撕下的一页纸上用铅笔给他的妹妹写道：

“斯摩棱斯克要放弃了！一星期之后童山将被敌人所占领。你们立刻动身去莫斯科。马上告诉我，何时上路，并派一名信使去乌斯维亚日。”

他写完后，就把那张便笺交给阿尔帕特奇，还口头交待他，怎样照料公爵、公爵小姐、他的儿子和教师上路，怎样立刻回信并把信寄到哪里。他还未来得及说完这些指示，便有一个参谋长，带着侍从骑马向他奔驰而来。

“您是团长吗？”参谋长用安德烈公爵熟悉的德语口音喊道。“当着您的面烧房子，您却站着不动？这意味着什么？您要负责！”贝格叫嚷着，他现在是第一军步兵左翼司令官的副参谋长，正如贝格所说，这是一个显然很称心的美差。

安德烈公爵望了望他，没有答理，继续向阿尔帕特奇说：

“你告诉他说，我等回信等到十号，如果十号我还得不到他们启程的消息，我就要放弃一切，亲自到童山去走一趟。”

“公爵，我说这话，只因为我应该执行命令，”贝格认出安德烈公爵后说，“因为我一向是严格执行，……请您原谅我吧！”贝格替自己辩解说。

“火焰中哔剥响起来。后来火光又熄了一会儿；滚滚的浓烟从房顶下面不断冒出来。火焰中又有一声可怕的巨响，有个巨大的东西坍塌下来了。

“哎唷！”人们随着粮仓塌下来的天花板的响声吼叫起来，燃烧过的粮食从粮仓那里散发出面饼的香味。火焰又突然升起来，照亮了站在大场周围的人们兴奋、欢快而又精疲力尽的脸。

一个穿厚呢子军大衣的人举手叫喊道：

“好呀！来吧！弟兄们，好呀……。”

“这是本店的人！”异口同声地说。

“那，那么，”安德烈公爵问阿尔帕特奇说，“把我向你所说的一切都转告给他们。”但他一句话也没有回答那默默不语地站在他身旁的贝格，摸了一下马，便走到胡同里去了。

CHAPTER V

Chinese

FROM SMOLENSK the troops continued to retreat. The enemy followed them. On the 10th of August the regiment of which Prince Andrey was in command was marching along the high-road past the avenue that led to Bleak Hills. The heat and drought had lasted more than three weeks. Every day curly clouds passed over the sky, rarely covering the sun; but towards evening the sky cleared again and the sun set in a glowing, red mist. But a heavy dew refreshed the earth at night. The wheat left in the fields was burnt up and dropping out of the ear. The marshes were dry. The cattle lowed from hunger, finding nothing to graze on in the sunbaked meadows. Only at night in the woods, as long as the dew lasted, it was cool. But on the road, on the high-road along which the troops marched, there was no coolness even at night, not even where the road passed through the woods. The dew was imperceptible on the sandy dust of the road, more than a foot deep. As soon as it was daylight, the soldiers began to move. The transports and artillery moved noiselessly, buried up to their axles, and the infantry sank to their ankles in the soft, stifling, burning dust, that never got cool even at night. The sandy dust clung to their legs and to the wheels, rose in a cloud over their heads, and got into the eyes and hair and nostrils and lungs of the men and beasts that moved along the road. The higher the sun rose, the higher rose the cloud of dust, and through the fine, burning dust the sun in the cloudless sky looked like a purple ball, at which one could gaze with undazzled eyes. There was no wind, and the men gasped for breath in the stagnant atmosphere. They marched with handkerchiefs tied over their mouths and noses. When they reached the villages, there was a rush for the wells. They fought over the water and drank it down to the mud.

Prince Andrey was in command of a regiment; and the management of the regiment, the welfare of his men, the necessity of receiving and giving orders occupied his mind. The burning and abandonment of Smolensk made an epoch in Prince Andrey's life. A new feeling of intense hatred of the enemy made him forget his own sorrow. He was devoted heart and soul to the interests of his regiment; he was careful of the welfare of his men and his officers, and cordial in his manner with them. They called him in the regiment “our prince,” were proud of him, and loved him. But he was kind and gentle only with his own men, with Timohin, and others like him, people quite new to him, belonging to a different world, people who could have no notion of his past. As soon as he was brought into contact with any of his old acquaintances, any of the staff officers, he bristled up again at once, and was vindictive, ironical, and contemptuous. Everything associated by memories with the past was repulsive to him, and so, in his relations with that old world, he confined himself to trying to do his duty, and not to be unfair.

Prince Andrey, in fact, saw everything in the darkest, gloomiest light, especially after Smolensk, which he considered could and should have been defended, had been abandoned, on the 6th of August, and his invalid father had been forced, as he supposed, to flee to Moscow, leaving Bleak Hills, the house that he had so loved, that he had designed and settled with his peasants, to be plundered. But in spite of that, thanks to his position, Prince Andrey had another subject to think of, quite apart from all general questions, his regiment. On the 10th of August, the column of which his regiment formed part reached the turning leading off to Bleak Hills. Two days before Prince Andrey had received the news that his father, his son, and his sister had gone away to Moscow. Though there was nothing for Prince Andrey to do at Bleak Hills, he decided, with characteristic desire to aggravate his own sufferings, that he must ride over there.

He ordered his horse to be saddled, and turned off from the main line of march towards his father's house, where he had been born and had spent his childhood. As he rode by the pond, where there always used to be dozens of peasant women gossiping, rinsing their linen, or beating it with washing bats, Prince Andrey noticed that there was no one by the pond, and that the platform where they used to stand had been torn away, and was floating sideways in the middle of the pond, half under water. Prince Andrey rode up to the keeper's lodge. There was no one to be seen at the stone gates and the door was open. The paths of the garden were already overgrown with weeds, and cattle and horses were straying about the English park. Prince Andrey rode up to the conservatory: the panes were smashed, and some of the trees in tubs were broken, others quite dried up. He called Taras, the gardener. No one answered. Going round the conservatory on the terrace, he saw that the paling-fence was all broken down, and branches of the plum-trees had been pulled off with the fruit. An old peasant, whom Prince Andrey used to see in his childhood at the gate, was sitting on the green garden seat plaiting bast shoes.

He was deaf, and did not hear Prince Andrey's approach. He was sitting on the seat on which the old prince liked to sit, and near him the bast was hanging on the branches of a broken and dried-up magnolia.

Prince Andrey rode up to the house. Several lime-trees in the old garden had been cut down; a piebald mare and a colt were among the rose-trees just before the house. The shutters were all up in the house, except on one open window downstairs. A servant lad caught sight of Prince Andrey and ran into the house.

Alpatitch had sent his family away, and was staying on alone at Bleak Hills. He was sitting indoors, reading the Lives of the Saints. On hearing that Prince Andrey had come, he ran out, spectacles on nose, buttoning himself up, hurried up to the prince, and without uttering a word, burst into tears, kissing his knee.

Then he turned away in anger at his own weakness, and began giving him an account of the position of affairs. Everything precious and valuable had been moved to Bogutcharovo. Corn to the amount of a hundred measures had been carried away, but the hay, and the wheat—an extraordinary crop that season, so Alpatitch said—had been cut green and carried off by the troops. The peasants were ruined: some of them, too, had gone to Bogutcharovo; a small number remained. Prince Andrey, not heeding his words, asked, “When did my father and sister go?” meaning when had they set off for Moscow. Alpatitch, assuming he was asking about the removal to Bogutcharovo, answered that they had set off on the 7th, and began going off again into details about the crops, asking for instructions.

“Is it your honour's orders that I let the oats go on getting a receipt from the officers?” asked Alpatitch. “We have still six hundred measures left.”

“What am I to say to him?” Prince Andrey wondered, looking at the old man's bald head shining in the sun, and reading in his face the consciousness that he knew himself the untimeliness of those questions, and asked them only to stifle his own grief.

“Yes, let it go,” he said.

“If your excellency noticed any disorder in the garden,” said Alpatitch, “it could not be prevented; three regiments have been here and spent the night. The dragoons were the worst; I noted down the name and rank of the commanding officer to lodge a complaint.”

“Well, and what are you going to do? Shall you stay, if the enemy occupies the place?” Prince Andrey asked him.

Alpatitch turned his face towards Prince Andrey and looked at him; then all at once, with a solemn gesture, he lifted his hand upwards: “He is my protector, and His will be done!” he said. A group of peasants and house-serfs were coming across the meadow, uncovering their heads as they drew near Prince Andrey.

“Well, good-bye!” said Prince Andrey, bending over to Alpatitch. “Go away yourself; take what you can; and tell the peasants to set off for the Ryazan estate or the property near Moscow.”

Alpatitch hugged his leg and broke into sobs. Prince Andrey gently moved him away, and spurring his horse galloped down the garden walk.

On the terrace the old man was still sitting as before, as uninterested as a fly on some beloved dead face, knocking on the sole of the bast shoe. And two little girls came running from the plum-trees in the conservatories with their skirts full of plums. They ran almost against Prince Andrey, and seeing their young master, the elder one clutched her younger companion by the hand, with a panic-stricken face, and hid with her behind a birch-tree not stopping to pick up the green plums they had dropped.

Prince Andrey turned away from them in nervous haste, afraid of letting them notice that he had seen them. He was sorry to have frightened the pretty child. He was afraid to glance at her, but yet he felt an irresistible inclination to do so. A new soothing and consolatory feeling came upon him, as gazing at the little girls, he became aware of the existence of other human interests, utterly remote from him, and as legitimate as his own. Those little girls were evidently possessed by one passionate desire to carry off and devour those green plums without being caught, and Prince Andrey wished them success in their enterprise. He could not resist glancing at them once more. Fancying themselves already secure, they had darted out of their hiding-place, and piping something in their shrill, little voices, and holding up their skirts, they ran gaily and swiftly through the grass with their bare, sunburnt little feet.

Prince Andrey was somewhat refreshed by his ride outside the region of the dust of the high-road along which the troops were marching. But he rode back into the road not far from Bleak Hills, and overtook his regiment at the halting-place near the dike of a small pond. It was about two o'clock in the afternoon. The sun, a red ball through the dust, baked and scorched his back intolerably in his black coat. The dust stood as immovable as ever over the buzzing, halting troops. There was not a breath of wind. As he rode towards the dike, Prince Andrey smelled the fresh, muddy smell of the pond. He longed to be in the water, however muddy it might be. He looked round at the pond, from which he heard shrieks and laughter. The small pond, thickly covered with green slime, was visibly half a yard higher and overflowing the dam, because it was full of white, naked human bodies, with brick-red hands and heads and necks, all plunging about in it. All that bare white human flesh was splashing about with shrieks and laughter, in the muddy pool, like carp floundering in a net. There was a ring of merriment in that splashing, and that was what made it peculiarly sad.

One fair-haired young soldier—Prince Andrey knew him—of the third company, with a strap round the calf of his leg, stepped back, crossing himself, to get a good run, and plunge into the water. Another swarthy and very towzle-headed sergeant up to his waist in the water, bending his fine, muscular figure, was snorting with enjoyment, as he poured the water over his head with his blackened hands. There was a sound of them slapping each other, and shrieks and cries.

On the banks, on the dike, in the pond, everywhere there was white, healthy, muscular flesh. Timohin, the officer with the red nose, was rubbing himself with a towel on the dike, and was abashed at seeing Prince Andrey, but made up his mind to address him.

“It's pleasant, really, your excellency; you should try it!” he said.

“It's dirty,” said Prince Andrey, grimacing.

“We will clear it out for you in a minute.” And undressed as he was, Timohin ran to clear the men out. “The prince wants to come.”

“What prince? Our prince?” cried voices, and all of them were in such haste to make way for him that Prince Andrey hardly had time to check them. He thought it would be better for him to have a bath in a barn. “Flesh, meat, chair à canon,” he thought, looking too at his own naked body and shuddering, not so much from cold as from the repulsion and horror, mysterious to himself, that he had felt at the sight of that immense multitude of naked bodies floundering in the muddy water.

On the 7th of August, Prince Bagration, at his halting-place at Mihalovka on the Smolensk road, had written a letter to Araktcheev. Though the letter was addressed to Araktcheev, he knew it would be read to the Tsar, and therefore he weighed every word, so far as he was capable of doing so.

“DEAR COUNT ALEXEY ANDREIVITCH,—I presume that the minister has already reported the abandonment of Smolensk to the enemy. It is sad, it is pitiable, and the whole army is in despair at the most important place having been wantonly abandoned. I for my part begged him personally in the most urgent manner, and finally wrote to him; but nothing would persuade him. I swear to you on my honour that Napoleon was in a greater fix than he has ever been, and he might have lost half his army, but could not have taken Smolensk. Our troops have fought and are fighting as never before. With fifteen thousand men I have held the enemy in check for thirty-five hours and beaten them, but he wouldn't hold his ground for fourteen hours. It is a shame and a stain on our army, and as for himself, I consider he ought not to be alive. If he reports that our losses were great, it is false; perhaps about four thousand, not that, but that is nothing: if it had been ten thousand, what of it, that's war. But on the other hand the enemy's losses were immense.

“What would it have cost him to hold his ground for a couple of days? In any case they must have retired of their own accord; for they had no water for their men or their horses. He gave me his word he would not retreat, but all of a sudden sent an announcement that he was withdrawing in the night. We cannot fight in this way, and we may soon bring the enemy on to Moscow.…

“There is a rumour afloat that you are thinking of peace. To make peace, God preserve us! After all the sacrifices that have been made and after such mad retreats—to make peace, you will set all Russia against you, and every one of us will feel it a disgrace to wear the uniform. If it has come to that, we ought to fight as long as Russia can, and as long as there are men able to stand.…

“There must be one man in command, not two. Your minister, may be, is very well in the ministry; but as a general, he's not simply useless, but contemptible, and the fate of all our fatherland has been put in his hands…I am frantic, truly, with rage; forgive me for writing abusively. It is plain that the man does not love his sovereign, and desires the ruin of us all, who advises peace to be concluded and the minister to be put in command of the army. And so I write to you plainly: get the militia ready. For the minister is leading our visitors to the capital in the most skilful manner. The object of chief suspicion to the whole army is the aide-de-camp Woltzogen. They say he's more for Napoleon than for us, and everything the minister does is by his advice. I am not merely civil to him, but obey him like a corporal, though I am his senior. It is hard: but loving my sovereign and benefactor, I obey. And I grieve for the Tsar that he intrusts his gallant army to such a man. Consider that on our retreat we have lost more than fifteen thousand men from fatigue, or left sick in the hospitals; if we had attacked, that would not have been so. Tell me for God's sake what will Russia—our mother—say at our displaying such cowardice, and why are we abandoning our good and gallant country to the rabble and rousing the hatred and shame of every Russian? Why are we in a panic? what are we afraid of? It is not my fault that the minister is vacillating, cowardly, unreasonable, dilatory, and has every vice. All the army is bewailing it and loading him with abuse.…”

第五章

英文

军队从斯摩棱斯克继续撤退。敌人紧追不舍。八月十日，安德烈公爵指挥的团队沿着大路行进，从通向童山的那条路旁经过。炎热和干旱已持续了三个多礼拜。每天，天空都飘着一团团卷曲的白云，偶尔遮住阳光；但到了黄昏，天空又一碧如洗，太阳慢慢沉入褐红色的薄雾中。只有夜晚厚重的露水滋润着大地。残留在麦茬上的麦粒被烤晒干了，撒落在田里。沼泽干涸，牲畜在被太阳烤焦的牧场上找不到饲料而饿得狂叫，只有夜晚在林子里，在露水还保存着的时候才是凉爽的。而在路上，在军队行进的大路上，甚至在夜间，即使在穿过树林，也没有那样的凉意。路面被搅起三——四寸深的尘土里，是看不到露水的。天刚一亮，部队便又开始行军。辎重车和炮车的轮毂，步兵的脚踝，都陷在酥软窒闷、夜里也未冷却的燥热的尘土里，无声地行进着。一部份的沙土被人的脚和车轮搅和着，另一部份扬起来，像云层一样悬浮在军队头顶上，钻入路上行人和牲畜的眼睛，毛发，耳朵，鼻孔，主要是钻入肺部。太阳升得愈高，尘土的云雾也升腾得愈高，但透过稀薄灼热的尘雾，那未被彩云遮盖的太阳仍然可用肉眼瞭望。太阳好似一轮火红的大球。没有一丝风，人们便在这凝滞的空气里喘息。他们行走时，都用毛巾缠住口鼻。每到一个村庄，便都涌到井边，为了争着喝水争得打起来，一直把井水喝到现出泥浆为止。

安德烈公爵统率着他那一团人马，忙于处理兵团的杂务，官兵的福利以及必须的收发命令等事项。斯摩棱斯克的大火和城市的放弃，对安德烈公爵说来是一个时代的特征。一种新的仇恨敌人的感情使他忘掉自己的悲痛。他全神贯注于本团的事务，关心自己的士兵和自己的军官，待他们亲切。团里都叫他我们的公爵，为他感到骄傲，并且热爱他。但他只有在和本团的人，和季莫欣之类的人相处才是善良温和的，这些人都是他新认识的，而且又处于和以前不同的环境，这些人不可能了解和知道他的过去；而他一接触到自己从前的相识，接触到司令部的人，他立刻又竖起头发；变得凶狠、好嘲弄、倨傲。一切使他联想起过去的东西，都使他反感，因此，在对待先前那个圈子的关系上，他只是尽量履行职责和避免不公正而已。

的确，一切照安德烈公爵现在看来，都处于黑暗和忧郁之中——尤其是八月六日放弃了斯摩棱斯克（他认为可以而且应当守住）之后，在他的老而且病的父亲不得不逃往莫斯科，抛弃他如此心爱的多年经营的盖满了住房并且迁进人口的童山，任敌人劫抢之后更觉得暗淡、凄惨，但尽管如此，因为有这一团人马的缘故，安德烈公爵得以考虑另一个与一般问题无关的事情——考虑自己的团队。八月十日，他那一团所在的纵队行至与童山平行的地方。安德烈公爵两天前得到了父亲、妹妹和儿子去了莫斯科的消息。虽然他在童山并没有什么事情可干，但是他生性喜爱自找悲痛，他于是决定顺便到童山去。

他吩咐给他备马，骑着马从行军途中驰往他父亲的乡村。他是在那里出生并度过了童年时代的。安德烈公爵骑马经过水塘旁边，先前那里总有几十个村妇一面谈天，一面捶着捣衣棒洗刷衣服，现在一个人影也看不到，散了架的木排①一半浸到水里，歪歪斜斜地飘到水塘中央。安德烈公爵策马走近看门人的小屋。入口的石头大门旁边没有人，门也是闭锁着的。花园的小径已被杂草淹没，牛犊和马匹在英国式的公园里游荡。安德烈公爵骑马来到暖房：玻璃已被打碎，种在桶里的树有一些倒下了，有一些枯死了。他呼唤花匠塔拉斯，无人回答。他绕过暖房到了标本园，看到雕木栏干完全断裂，结着果子的一些李树枝也已折断。安德烈公爵童年在大门口常见到的那位老农奴正坐在绿色长凳上编织树皮鞋。

①架在水塘边便于取水，洗衣，饮牲畜等。

他已聋了，听不见安德烈公爵走到近旁来。他坐在老公爵爱坐的那条长凳上，他的身旁，在枯死的折断的玉兰花枝条上，挂着树皮。

安德烈公爵骑马走到住宅前，老花园里的几棵菩提树已被砍伐，一匹花马带着马驹在住宅前边的蔷薇花丛中来回走动。窗户都钉上了护窗板。楼下的一扇窗户还开着。一个童仆看见安德烈公爵跑进住宅去了。

阿尔帕特奇送走家眷后，独自一人留在童山；他坐在屋里读一本《圣徒传》。听说安德烈公爵已回来，鼻梁上还架着眼镜，他便边扣衣服钮扣边走出宅院，急忙走到公爵身边，吻着安德烈公爵的膝盖，一句话不说地哭了起来。

然后，他转过身去，为自己的软弱而觉得气忿，开始报告各种事务。全部贵重物品都已运往博古恰罗沃。粮食，约一百俄石，也已运走；干草和春播作物，据阿尔帕特奇说，今年长势特别好是丰收作物，还未成熟就被军队割下征用了。农奴们也都破产，有些去了博古恰罗沃，一小部留了下来。

安德烈公爵不等他说完便问。

“父亲和妹妹什么时候去的？”——他指的是什么时候去莫斯科的。阿尔帕特奇以为问的是去博古恰罗沃，回答说七号去的，接着又细谈经营的事，询问今后的安排。

“您是否说军队开收条便可拿走燕麦？我们还剩下六百俄石呢。”阿尔帕特奇问。

“对他回答什么好呢？”安德烈公爵心里想，看着老人在阳光下闪闪发光的秃顶，从他脸上的表情看出，他自己也分明懂得这些问题不合时宜，不过是以问题来抑制悲伤罢了。

“好，发给他们吧。”他说。

“如果您看到花园里杂乱无章，”阿尔帕特奇说道，“那是没法防止的：有三个团经过这里，在这里住过，特别是龙骑兵。我记下了指挥官的官阶和姓名，以便递呈子。”

“呶，你怎么办呢？留下来吗，要是敌人占领了这里？”安德烈公爵问他。

阿尔帕特奇把脸转过来朝安德烈公爵，看着他，并突然庄严地举起一只手：

“上帝是我的护佑人，听从他的意旨！”他说。

成群的农奴和家奴从牧场走来，脱帽走近安德烈公爵。

“呶，告别了！”安德烈公爵从马上俯身对阿尔帕特奇说，“你自己也走，能带的都带上，把人都打发到梁赞或莫斯科附近的庄园去。”阿尔帕特奇挨着他的腿痛哭起来。安德烈公爵小心地推开他，使劲一催马，向下面的林荫道疾驰而去。

那个老头儿对这一切仍无动于衷，就像那叮在一个高贵的死者脸上的苍蝇一样，坐在标本园里敲打树皮鞋的楦头，两个小姑娘用衣裙儿兜着她们从暖房树上摘下的李子，从那里跑来碰上了安德烈公爵。大一点的那个姑娘一见到年轻的主人，满脸惊慌地拉起小伙伴的手，一起藏到一颗白桦树的后面，顾不得拾起撒落一地的青李子。

安德烈公爵也慌忙地转过脸去，避开她们，怕她们发觉他看到了她们。他怜悯那个好看的受了惊的小女孩。他害怕回头去看她，但又忍不住想看一眼。他沉浸在一阵新的喜悦的慰藉之中，因为他刚才看见那两个小女孩，明白了世上还存在着另一种对他完全陌生的合乎情理的人类的志趣，它同吸引着他的兴趣是一样的。这两个小姑娘显然渴望着一件事，即拿走和吃掉那些青李子，而且不被人抓住，安德烈公爵也同她俩一起希望这件事成功。他止不住再看了她们一眼。她们认为自己已脱离危险，便从隐藏的地方跳了出来，用尖细的小嗓子叫喊着，兜起衣襟，翻动着晒黑了的光脚板，愉快迅速地沿着牧场的草地跑开了。

离开大路上军队行进时扬起的灰尘区域，安德烈公爵多少感到一些清爽。但离童山不远，他又回到大路上，并在一处小水塘的堤坝旁，赶上正在休息的他那一团的队伍。那是午后一点多钟。太阳，灰尘弥漫中的赤红的圆球，透过他的黑外衣烘烤着他的背脊，令人难以忍受。灰尘依然一动不动地悬浮在停止前进的人声嘈杂的军队的上空。没有风。在驰马经过堤坝时，安德烈公爵闻到池塘的绿藻和清凉的气息。他很想跳到水里去——不管水是多么脏。他环视着池塘，那里传来喊叫声和笑闹的声音。这个不大的长有绿色植物的池塘，浑浊的池水已经涨高了半尺多，漫过了堤坝。因为池塘泡满了，赤裸裸的士兵、他们在池中打扑腾的手臂，脸庞和脖颈像红砖一样，而他们的躯体却是雪白的。所有这些雪白的光身子，在这肮脏的水洼里又笑又叫地扑扑通通玩，就像一群鲫鱼拥挤在一个戽斗里乱蹦乱跳似的，这样扑扑通通的玩水，带有一点欢乐的意味，因而反衬出分外的忧愁。

一个年轻的金发士兵——安德烈公爵认识他——是三连的，小腿肚上系一条皮带，画着十字往后退几步，以便更好地跑动，然后跳进水里去，另一个黑黑的，头发总是乱蓬蓬的军士，站在齐腰深的水里，肌肉发达的身子颤抖着高兴地喷着响鼻，用两只粗黑的手捧水淋自己的脑袋。池塘里响起一片互相泼水的声音，尖叫声，扑扑通通的响声。

岸上，堤坝上和池塘里，到处都是白晃晃的健康的肌肉发达的肉体。红鼻子的军官季莫欣，在堤上用毛巾擦身子，看到公爵时很难为情，但仍毅然对他说：

“可真是痛快，阁下，您也来吧！”他说。

“脏得很。”安德烈公爵皱了皱眉头说。

“我们立刻给您清场。”季莫欣还未穿上衣服就跑着去清场子。

“公爵要来洗了。”

“哪个公爵？我们的公爵吗？”许多声音一齐说，并且，大家都急忙地爬出池塘，安德烈公爵很费劲才劝阻了他们。他想还不如去棚子里冲洗一下。

“肉，躯体，chair　a　canon（炮灰）！”他看着自己赤裸的身体想道，全身哆嗦着，倒不是由于寒冷，而是由于看到众多躯体在肮脏的池塘里洗澡，因而产生一种无法理解的厌恶和恐怖。

八月七日，巴格拉季翁公爵在斯摩棱斯克大道上的米哈伊洛夫卡村驻地写了下面的信。

“阿列克谢·安德烈耶维奇伯爵阁下：（他是给阿拉克切耶夫写信，但他知道他的信将被皇上御览，故尔倾其所能地斟酌每一词语）。

我想，那位大臣已经报告了斯摩棱斯克落入敌手的消息。这一最重要的阵地白白地放弃，令人痛心悲伤，全军都陷于绝望，就我而言，我曾亲自极其恳切地说服他，后来还给他写了一封信；但什么也不能劝服他。我以我的名誉向您起誓，拿破仑从未像现在这样陷入绝境，他即使损失一半人马，也占领不了斯摩棱斯克的。我军战而又战，胜过以往。我率一万五千人坚守了三十五个小时以上，抗击了敌军；而他却不愿坚守十四小时。这真可耻，是我军的一大污点；而他自己呢，我觉得，是不配活在世上的。如果他报告说，损失惨重，——这不真实，可能是四千左右，不会再多，甚至还不到四千；哪怕是损失一万，也没法子，这是战争！而敌方的损失是难以计数的……

再坚守两天会有什么碍难呢？至少，他们会自己撤离；因为他们没有可供士兵和马匹饮用的水。那位大臣曾向我保证他不会败退，但他突然下达命令，说要晚上放弃阵地。这样就无法作战了，而我们可能很快把敌人引到莫斯科……

有传闻说，您要求和。可别讲和，经过这一切牺牲和如此疯狂的撤退之后——再来讲和；您会招致全俄国的反对，而我们中的每一位身穿军服的都会羞愧的。既然事已至此——

应该打下去，趁俄国尚有力量，趁人们还没有倒下……

应当由一个人指挥，而不是由两个人指挥。您的大臣作为一个内阁大臣可能是好的；但作为将军，不仅坏，而且坏透了，可他却肩负我们整个祖国的命运……的确，我由于沮丧而快要发疯，请原谅我冒昧给您写信。显然，那位建议缔结和约，建议由该大臣指挥军队的人，是不爱戴皇上并希望我们全体毁灭的人。因此，我向您呈诉实情：进行民团的准备吧。因为大臣正极巧妙地带领客人跟随自己进入古都。全军都对皇上的侍从沃尔佐根先生抱有极大的怀疑。据说，他更像拿破仑的人，而不像我们的人，就是他在向大臣提一切建议。我不仅对此恭恭敬敬，而且像班长一样服从他，虽然我比他年长。这很痛苦；但出于我对恩主皇上的爱戴，我得服从。只是为皇上惋惜，他竟把一支光荣的军队托附给了这样的人。您想想看，在退却中我们由于疲劳和在医院里减员共计损失了一万五千多人；如果发动进攻的话，不会损失那么多的。看在上帝面上，请告诉我，我们的俄罗斯，我们的母亲会怎样说，为什么我们如此担忧，为什么我们把多么善良而勤劳的祖国交给那些恶棍，使我们每个臣民感到仇恨和耻辱？干吗胆怯，有谁可怕的？我是没有罪过的。该大臣优柔寡断，胆怯，糊涂、迟钝，具有一切坏的品质，全军都在痛哭，诅咒他罪该万死……”

CHAPTER VI

Chinese

AMONG THE INNUMERABLE CATEGORIES into which it is possible to classify the phenomena of life, one may classify them all into such as are dominated by matter and such as are dominated by form. To the latter class one may refer the life of Petersburg, especially in its drawing-rooms, as distinguished from the life of the country, of the district, of the province, or even of Moscow. That life of the drawing-rooms is unchanging.

Between the years 1805 and 1812 we had made peace with Bonaparte and quarrelled with him again; we had made new constitutions and unmade them again, but the salons of Anna Pavlovna and of Ellen were precisely as they had been—the former seven, the latter five years—before. Anna Pavlovna's circle were still speaking with incredulous wonder of Bonaparte's successes; and saw in his successes, and in the submissive attitude of the sovereigns of Europe, a malicious conspiracy, the sole aim of which was to give annoyance and anxiety to the court circle of which Anna Pavlovna was the representative. The set that gathered about Ellen, whom no less a person than Rumyantsev condescended to visit, and looked on as a remarkably intelligent woman, talked in 1812 with the same enthusiasm as in 1808, of the “great nation,” and the “great man,” and regretted the breach with France, which must, they believed, shortly end in peace.

Of late after the Tsar's return from the army, some increase of excitement was perceptible in these antagonistic salons, and they made something like demonstrations of hostility to one another, but the bias of each circle remained unaffected. Anna Pavlovna's set refused to admit any French people but the most unimpeachable legitimists; and in her drawing-room the patriotic view found expression that the French theatre ought not to be patronised, and that the maintenance of the French company there cost as much as the maintenance of a whole army corps. The progress of the war was eagerly followed, and rumours greatly to the advantage of our army were circulated. In the circle of Ellen, of Rumyantsev, the French circle, the reports of the enemy's cruelty and barbarous methods of warfare were discredited; and all sorts of conciliatory efforts on the part of Napoleon were discussed. This set discountenanced the premature counsels of those who advised preparations for the removal to Kazan of the court and the girls' schools, that were under the protection of the empress mother. The whole war was in fact regarded in Ellen's salon as a series of merely formal demonstrations, very shortly to be terminated by peace; and the view prevailed, expressed by Bilibin, who was now in Petersburg and constantly seen at Ellen's, as every man of wit was sure to be, that the war would be ended not by gunpowder but by those who had invented it. The patriotic fervour of Moscow, of which tidings reached Petersburg with the Tsar, was in Ellen's salon a subject of ironical, and very witty, though circumspect, raillery.

In Anna Pavlovna's circle, on the contrary, these patriotic demonstrations roused the greatest enthusiasm, and were spoken of as Plutarch speaks of his ancient Romans. Prince Vassily, who still filled the same important positions, constituted the connecting link between the two circles. He used to visit “my good friend Anna Pavlovna,” and was also seen in the “diplomatic salon of my daughter”; and often was led into blunders from his frequent transitions from one to the other, and said in one drawing-room what should have been reserved for the other.

Soon after the Tsar's arrival, Prince Vassily, in conversation about the progress of the war at Anna Pavlovna's, severely criticised Barclay de Tolly, and expressed himself unable to decide who should be appointed commander-in-chief. One of the guests, usually spoken of as a “man of great abilities,” described how he had that day seen the newly elected commander of the Petersburg militia, Kutuzov, presiding over the enrolment of militiamen in the Court of Exchequer, and ventured discreetly to suggest that Kutuzov would be the man who might satisfy all requirements.

Anna Pavlovna smiled mournfully, and observed that Kutuzov had done nothing but cause the Tsar annoyance.

“I have said so over and over again in the assembly of nobility,” interposed Prince Vassily, “but they wouldn't listen to me. I said that his election to the command of the militia would not be pleasing to his majesty. They wouldn't listen to me. It's all this mania for being in the opposition,” he went on. “And to what public are they playing, I should like to know. It's all because we are trying to ape the silly enthusiasm of Moscow,” said Prince Vassily, forgetting for a moment that it was at Ellen's that that enthusiasm was jeered at, while at Anna Pavlovna's it was as well to admire it. But he hastened to retrieve his mistake. “Is it suitable for Kutuzov, the oldest general in Russia, to be presiding in the Court? Et il en restera pour sa peine! Did any one hear of such a thing as appointing a man commander-in-chief who cannot sit a horse, who drops asleep at a council—a man, too, of the lowest morals! A pretty reputation he gained for himself in Bucharest! To say nothing of his qualities as a general, can we appoint, at such a moment, a man decrepit and blind—yes, simply blind! A fine idea—a blind general! He sees nothing. Playing blind-man's buff—that's all he's fit for!”

No one opposed that view.

On the 24th of July it was accepted as perfectly correct. But on the 29th Kutuzov received the title of prince. The bestowal of this title might be taken to indicate a desire to shelve him, and therefore Prince Vassily's dictum still remained correct, though he was in no such hurry now to express it. But on the 8th of August a committee, consisting of General Field-Marshal Saltykov, Araktcheev, Vyazmitinov, Lopuhin, and Kotchubey was held to consider the progress of the war. This committee decided that the disasters were due to divided authority; and although the members of the committee were aware of the Tsar's dislike of Kutuzov, after a deliberation they advised the appointment of Kutuzov as commander-in-chief. And that same day Kutuzov was appointed commander-in-chief of the army, and intrusted with unlimited authority over the whole region occupied by the troops.

On the 9th of August Prince Vassily once more met the “man of great abilities” at Anna Pavlovna's. The latter gentleman was assiduous in his attendance at Anna Pavlovna's, in the hope of receiving, through her influence, an appointment on one of the institutions of female education. Prince Vassily strode into the room with the air of a victorious general, of a man who has succeeded in attaining the object of his desires.

“Well, you know the great news! Prince Kutuzov is marshal! All differences of opinion are at an end. I am so glad, so delighted!” said Prince Vassily. “At last here is a man!” he declared, looking sternly and significantly at all the company. In spite of his desire to secure the post he coveted, the “man of great abilities” could not refrain from reminding Prince Vassily of the view he had expressed shortly before. (This was a breach of civility to Prince Vassily in Anna Pavlovna's drawing-room, and also to Anna Pavlovna, who had received the tidings with equal enthusiasm; but he could not refrain.)

“But they say he is blind, prince,” he said to recall to Prince Vassily his own words.

“Allez donc, il y voit assez,” said Prince Vassily, with the rapid bass voice and the cough with which he always disposed of all difficulties. “He sees quite enough,” he repeated. “And what I'm particularly glad of,” he went on, “is that the Emperor has given him unlimited authority over all the troops, over the whole region, an authority no commander-in-chief has ever had before. It's another autocrat,” he concluded, with a victorious smile.

“God grant it may be,” said Anna Pavlovna.

The “man of great abilities,” a novice in court society, was anxious to flatter Anna Pavlovna by maintaining her former opinion against this new view of the position. He said: “They say the Emperor was unwilling to give Kutuzov such authority. They say he blushed like a young lady to whom Joconde is read, saying to him, ‘The sovereign and the country decree you this honour.' ”

“Perhaps the heart was not of the party,” said Anna Pavlovna.

“Oh no, no,” Prince Vassily maintained warmly. Now he would not put Kutuzov second to any one. To hear Prince Vassily now Kutuzov was not simply a good man in himself, but idolised by every one. “No, that's impossible, for the sovereign has always known how to appreciate him,” he added.

“God only grant that Prince Kutuzov may take the control of things into his own hands,” said Anna Pavlovna, “and not permit any one to put a spoke in his wheel.”

Prince Vassily knew at once who was meant. He whispered, “I know for a fact that Kutuzov made it an express condition that the Tsarevitch should not be with the army. Vous savez ce qu'il a dit à l'Empereur.” And Prince Vassily repeated the words said to have been spoken by Kutuzov to the Tsar: “ ‘I can neither punish him if he does wrong, nor reward him if he does well.' Oh! he's a shrewd fellow, Prince Kutuzov. I have known him a long while.”

“They do say,” observed the “man of great abilities,” who had not acquired a courtier's tact, “that his excellency even made it an express condition that the Emperor himself should not be with the army.”

He had hardly uttered the words when Anna Pavlovna and Prince Vassily simultaneously turned their backs on him, and looked mournfully at one another, with a sigh at his naïveté.

第六章

英文

对生活现象，可分成无数部类，所有这些部类可以划分成以下二类，其中一类以内容为主，另外一类——则以形式为主。属于这后一类别的，是截然不同于乡下的，地方的，省城的，甚至莫斯科的生活的彼得堡的生活，尤其是沙龙生活。

这种生活是不变的。

自从一八○五年以来，我们同波拿巴又和解又断交，多次立了宪法又废除它，而安娜·帕夫洛夫娜的沙龙和海伦的沙龙从前怎样，现在还怎样——一个跟七年前一样，另一个跟五年前一样，在安娜·帕夫洛夫娜那里，人们依旧困惑地谈论波拿巴的成功，并且看到，无论在他的成功还是在欧洲君主对他的姑息中，都有一种恶毒的阴谋，其唯一目的便是给安娜·帕夫洛夫娜代表的宫廷集团制造不快和烦恼。在海伦那里也完全一样（鲁缅采夫本人常去光顾，认为她是绝顶聪明的女人），一八○八和一八一二毫无二致，人们依然兴奋地谈论着那个伟大的民族和那个伟大的人物，并遗憾地看待同法国的决裂，依照聚集在海伦沙龙里的人的意见，此事应以和平告终。

近来，在皇上从军队返驾之后，这两个对立的沙龙集团出现了某种不安，发生了某些相互指责的情况，但两个集团的方向仍旧不变。参加安娜·帕夫洛夫娜集团的法国人仅限于顽固的保皇党，所以，这里表现出来的爱国思想是，不该上法国剧院，认为维持一个剧团的经费抵得上维持一个军团的经费。他们专心地注视战事进展，并传播对我军最有利的新闻。在海伦的圈子内，即鲁缅采夫派和法国派的圈子内，关于战争和敌人残酷的传闻受到驳斥，拿破仑求和的各种尝试被加以讨论。在这个圈子里，人们谴责那些建议尽早下令，让皇太后保护的宫廷女子学堂准备向喀山疏散的人。总的说来，战争的全部内容在海伦的沙龙里不过是以一些空洞的示威开始，很快就会以和平告终，而左右一切的是比利宾的意见，他现时在彼得堡成了海伦的常客（所有聪明的人都应去她那里作客），他认为问题不取决于火药，而取决于发明火药的人。在这个圈子里，人们冷嘲热讽而又十分巧妙地（尽管也很谨慎地）讥笑莫斯科的狂热，关于那种狂热的消息，是随皇上驾临彼得堡而传来的。

在安娜·帕夫洛夫娜的圈子里则相反，人们赞美和谈论那种狂热，像普鲁塔克①谈论远古伟人似的。依旧身居要职的瓦西里公爵，成了两个圈子的连环扣。他到ma　bonne　amie（自己的尊贵朋友）安娜·帕夫洛夫娜那里去，也到dans　le　salon　diplomatique　de　ma　fille（自己女儿的外交沙龙）那里去，由于频繁交替地出入于这一阵营和另一阵营之间，因此常常给搞糊涂了，在海伦那里说了本该在安娜·帕夫洛夫娜那里说的话，或者相反。

①普鲁塔克（约46～123），古希腊传记作家。

在皇上到达之后不久，瓦西里公爵在安娜·帕夫洛夫娜那里议论战事，严厉谴责巴克莱—德—托利，但又对任命谁作总司令迟疑不决。客人中的一位平时被称作un　homme　de　beaucoup　de　mérite（有许多优点的人），讲述了他看见新近担任彼得堡民团司令的库图佐夫在省税务局主持征募新兵的会议，然后谨慎地表达了自己的初步看法，库图佐夫是一个能满足各种要求的人选。

安娜·帕夫洛夫娜凄戚地笑了笑，指出库图佐夫净给皇上制造不愉快，此外便没有干过什么。

“我在贵族会上一再地说，”瓦西里公爵插嘴说道，“但没有人听我的。我说推选他作民团司令会使皇上不悦。他们没有听我的。”

“全是一派反对的狂热，”他继续说，“也不看看当着谁的面？而且全是由于我们想摹仿莫斯科的愚蠢的狂热。”瓦西里公爵说，一时间糊里糊涂，忘了在海伦那里才嘲笑莫斯科的狂热，而在安娜·帕夫洛夫娜这里是应该加以赞扬的。但他立即改正过来。“呶，库图佐夫伯爵，俄国最老的将军，在税务局那地方召集会议适当吗，et　il　en　restera　pour　sa　peine（他的忙碌会一事无成的）！难道可以任命为总司令的竟是一个不能跃马扬鞭的，开会打瞌睡的，脾气最坏的人吗！他在布加勒斯特毛遂自荐得够瞧的了？我这还不是谈他作为将军的资格问题，难道在这种时刻能够任命一个老朽的瞎眼的人，一个十足的瞎子吗？瞎眼将军好极了！他什么也看不见。可以捉迷藏……他简直什么都看不见！”

没有维持异议。

这在七月二十四日是完全公允之论。但七月二十九日库图佐夫被加封公爵头衔。授予公爵头衔可能意味着摆脱，所以，瓦西里公爵的见解仍然正确，虽然他并不急于在此时有所表示，但八月八日，由萨尔特科夫大将，阿拉克切耶夫，维亚济米季诺夫，洛普欣和科丘别伊组成的委员会，开会讨论战争事宜。委员会一致认为，战事之不利，源出于无统一指挥，虽然委员会成员知道皇上不赏识库图佐夫，但经过简短磋商，仍建议任命库图佐夫为总司令。因此，就在那一天，库图佐夫被任命为全军及各个部队据守区域的全权总司令。

八月九日，瓦西里公爵又在安娜·帕夫洛夫娜家遇到了l'homme　de　beaucoup　de　mérite（那个有许多优点的人）。l'homme　de　beaucoup　de　mérite瓦西里公爵近来对安娜·帕夫洛夫娜很殷勤，希望获得一个女子学校学监的任命。他走进客厅时，像达到目的的胜利者那样喜气洋洋。“Eh　bien，vous　savez　la　grande　nouvelle？Le　prince　Koutouzoff　est　maréchal①。一切分歧消除了。我真幸福，真高兴！”瓦西里公爵说。“Enfin　voilà　un　homme”②，他不停地说，意味深长地严肃地环视所有在客厅里的人。L'homme　de　beaucoup　de　mèrite虽然意在谋职，仍忍不住提醒瓦西里公爵曾经发表过的议论。（这在安娜的客厅里对瓦西里公爵和已欣然得知这一消息的安娜·帕夫洛夫娜都是失礼的；但他忍耐不住。）

“Mais　on　dit　qu'il　est　aveugle，mon　

prince？”③他使瓦西里公爵想起他说过的话。

“Allez　donc，il　y　voit　assez，”④瓦西里公爵以低沉、急速的声音，咳嗽着说，这样的嗓音和咳嗽他常常用来解决一切困难。“Allez　donc，il　y　voit　assez，”他又重复了一遍。“我之所以高兴，”他往下说，“是因为，陛下授予了他掌握全国军队和各个军区的全权——这是任何一位总司令从未有过的权力。这是第二位主宰。”他说完之后，露出得胜的微笑。

①法语：呃，你们可知道一个重大消息？库图佐夫成了元帅了。

②法语：毕竟是一个人才。

③法语：但是听说他眼睛瞎了，公爵？

④法语：呃，胡说，他看得相当清楚，您放心。

“但愿如此，但愿如此。”安娜·帕夫洛夫娜说。L'homme　de　beaucoup　de　merite（那个有许多优点人）在宫廷社交界还是个生手，为了阿谀安娜·帕夫洛夫娜，他以此为她先前对这一议论表示的见解解围，说道：

“据说，陛下不大情愿授予库图佐夫这一权力。On　dit　qu'il　rougit　comme　une　demoiselle　à　laquelle　on　lirait　Joconde，en　lui　disant：‘le　souverain　et　la　Patrie　vous　decernent　cet　honneur'。”①“Peut—être　que　le　coeur　n'était　pas　de　la　partie。②”安娜·帕夫洛夫娜说。

①法语：据说，当他对他说：“国王与祖国赐与您这一荣誉”时，他脸红得像听到诵读《约康德》的姑娘那样。（《约康德》是拉封丹的第一篇韵文故事，被认为是恶劣的作品。）。

②法语：或许不完全合他的心意。

“噢不，不，”瓦西里公爵激烈地偏袒库图佐夫，现在已不在任何人面前让步。照瓦西里公爵的见解，不仅库图佐夫本人出色，而且大家都崇拜他。“不，这不可能，因为皇上从前就很能赏识他。”他说。

“但愿库图佐夫公爵，”安娜·帕夫洛夫娜说，“真正掌握着权力，不让任何人捣鬼——des　batons　dans　les　roues．”

瓦西里公爵立即明白了，这任何人指的是谁。他悄声地说：

“我确切地得知，库图佐夫提出皇太子不留在军中。这个必要的条件，Vous　savez　ce　qu'il　a　dit　a　l'émpereur（你们知道他对皇上说了什么吗）？”瓦西里公爵复述了似乎是库图佐夫对皇上说的原话：“如太子行为不轨，臣不便罚其过，反之，亦不便赏其功。啊！这是一个绝顶聪明的人，库图佐夫公爵，je　le　connais　de　longue　date．（我早就认识他了。）”

“他们甚至说，”还不知宫廷待人接物分寸的l'homme　de　beaucoup　de　merite说，“公爵大人还提出一个必要条件；国王不要亲自驾临军队。”

此人话刚说完，瓦西里公爵和安娜·帕夫洛夫娜刹那背转身去，为他的幼稚而叹气，二人忧郁地交换了一下眼神。

CHAPTER VII

Chinese

AT THE TIME when this was taking place in Petersburg, the French had passed through Smolensk, and were moving closer and closer to Moscow. Napoleon's historian, Thiers, like others of Napoleon's historians, tries to justify his hero by maintaining that he was drawn on to the walls of Moscow against his will. He is as right as any historians who seek the explanation of historic events in the will of a man; he is as right as the Russian historians, who assert that Napoleon was lured to Moscow by the skilful strategy of the Russian generals. In this case, apart from the law of “retrospectiveness,” which makes all the past appear a preparation for the subsequent facts, the element of mutual interaction, too, comes in, confusing the whole subject. A good chess-player, who has lost a game, is genuinely convinced that his failure is due to his blunders, and he seeks the blunder at the commencement of the game, forgetting that at every move during the whole game there were similar errors, that not one piece has been played as perfectly as possible. The blunder on which he concentrates his attention attracts his notice simply because his opponent took advantage of it. How much more complex is the game of war, which must be played within certain limits of time, in which there is not one will controlling lifeless toys, in which the whole is the resultant of the innumerable collisions of diverse individual wills!

After Smolensk, Napoleon tried to force on a battle beyond Dorogobuzh, at Vyazma, and then at Tsarevo-Zaimishtche. But the Russians could not give battle, owing to innumerable combinations of circumstances, till Borodino, one hundred and twelve versts from Moscow. From Vyazma Napoleon gave instructions for an advance straight upon Moscow.

“Moscow, the Asiatic capital of this great empire, the holy city of the peoples of Alexander, Moscow, with its innumerable churches in the form of Chinese pagodas!”

This Moscow would not let Napoleon's imagination rest. On the march from Vyazma to Tsarevo-Zaimishtche Napoleon was riding on his cream-coloured English horse, accompanied by his guards, and sentinels, and pages, and adjutants. The commander of the staff, Berthier, had dropped behind to put questions to a Russian prisoner taken by the cavalry. Accompanied by the interpreter, Lelorme d'Ideville, he galloped after Napoleon, and pulled his horse up with an amused expression.

“Well?” said Napoleon.

“A Cossack of Platov's detachment says Platov is effecting a junction with the main army, and that Kutuzov has been appointed commander-in-chief. He is very shrewd and talkative.”

Napoleon smiled, and bade them give the Cossack a horse and bring him before him. He wished to talk to him himself. Several adjutants galloped off, and within an hour Denisov's serf Lavrushka, whom his master had left with Rostov, rode up to Napoleon, sitting on a French cavalry saddle, wearing an orderly's short jacket, and looking sly, tipsy, and mirthful. Napoleon bade him ride at his side and began questioning him.

“Are you a Cossack?”

“Yes; a Cossack, your honour.”

“The Cossack, ignorant in whose company he was, since Napoleon's plain appearance had nothing to suggest to the Oriental imagination the presence of a monarch, talked with extraordinary familiarity of the incidents of the war,” says Thiers, relating this episode. In reality Lavrushka, who had been drunk the previous evening, and had left his master without dinner, had been thrashed for it, and sent to the village in quest of fowls, where he was tempted on by plunder till he got caught by the French. Lavrushka was one of those coarse, impudent lackeys who have seen a good deal of life, look on it as a duty to do nothing without cunning and trickery, are ready to do any kind of service for their masters, and are particularly keen in scenting out the baser impulses of their superiors, especially on the side of vanity and pettiness. On coming into the presence of Napoleon, whom he easily and confidently recognised, Lavrushka was not in the least taken aback, and only did his utmost to win the favour of his new master.

He was very well aware that this was Napoleon, and Napoleon's presence impressed him no more than Rostov's or the quartermaster's with the rod in his hand, because he had nothing of which either the quartermaster or Napoleon could not deprive him.

He had repeated all the gossip that was talked among the officers' servants. Much of it was true. But when Napoleon asked him whether the Russians expected to conquer Bonaparte or not, Lavrushka screwed up his eyes and thought a bit.

He saw in the question a sharp piece of cunning, as cunning fellows, like Lavrushka, always do in everything. He frowned and paused a minute.

“Well, if it does come to a battle,” he said thoughtfully, “and pretty soon, then yours will win. That's sure thing. But if now, three days and there's a battle after that, well then, I say, that same battle will be a long job.” This was translated to Napoleon. “If a battle is fought within three days the French will win it, but if later, God knows what will come of it,” Lelorme d'Ideville put it, smiling. Napoleon did not smile, though he was evidently in high good humour, and told him to repeat the words.

Lavrushka noticed that, and to entertain him further, said, pretending not to know who he was:

“We know, you have got your Bonaparte; he has conquered every one in the world, ay, but with us it will be a different story …” himself hardly aware how and why this bit of bragging patriotism slipped out. The interpreter translated these words without the conclusion; and Bonaparte smiled. “The young Cossack brought a smile on to the lips of his august companion,” says Thiers. After a few paces in silence, Napoleon turned to Berthier, and said he should like to try the effect “sur cet enfant du Don” of learning that the man with whom he was speaking was the Emperor himself, the very Emperor who had carved his immortally victorious name on the Pyramids. The fact was communicated. Lavrushka—discerning that this was done to test him, and that Napoleon expected him to be panic-stricken—tried to gratify his new masters by promptly affecting to be astounded, struck dumb; he opened round eyes, and made the sort of face usual with him when he was being led off to be thrashed. “Hardly,” says Thiers, “had Napoleon's interpreter spoken, than the Cossack was struck dumb with amazement; he did not utter another word, and walked with his eyes constantly fixed on the great conqueror, whose fame had reached him across the steppes of the East. All his loquacity suddenly vanished, and was replaced by a naïve and silent awe. Napoleon made the Cossack a present, and ordered him to be set at liberty like un oiseau qu'on rend aux champs qui l'ont vu naître.”

Napoleon rode on, dreaming of that Moscow that filled his imagination, while the bird returning to the fields that had seen him born, galloped back to the outposts, inventing the tale he would tell his comrades. What had really happened he did not care to relate, simply because it seemed to him not worth telling. He rode back to the Cossacks, inquired where was his regiment, now forming part of Platov's detachment; and towards evening found his master, Nikolay Rostov, encamped at Yankovo. Rostov was just mounting his horse to ride through the villages near with Ilyin. He gave Lavrushka another horse and took him with them.

第七章

英文

在彼得堡发生那些事情的同时，法军已开过斯摩棱斯克，愈来愈靠近莫斯科。拿破仑的史学家梯也尔，像拿破仑其他史学家们一样，竭力为自己的英雄辩护说，拿破仑是不由自主地被引诱到莫斯科的。他像所有的历史学家一样正确（他们在一个伟人的意愿中寻求历史事件的解释），他也像俄国史学家们一样正确（他们断言拿破仑是因俄国统帅们施巧计而诱引至莫斯科的）。在这里，逆向（回溯）定律认为，把过去的一切视为实现某一事件的准备过程，但除此之外，还有把全部事情搅浑的相互关系。一个好的棋手，在输棋之后由衷地相信，他的失败产生于他的一个错误，他便在开局之初去寻找错误，而忘记在他的每一步棋中，在整个对弈的过程中都有错误，以致没有一着棋是善着。他注意到的那个败着之所以被找出来，是因为这一败着被对手利用了。在一定时间条件下进行的战争这种游戏要复杂得多，其中不是由一个人的意愿领导着那些无生命的机器，一切都产生于各种任意行动的无数次的冲突。

继斯摩棱斯克之后，拿破仑先在多罗戈布日以西的维亚济马附近，然后又在察列沃—扎伊米希附近谋求会战，但结果呢，由于情势的无数次冲突，在到达波罗金罗，离莫斯科只剩一百二十俄里处之前，俄军仍不交战。拿破仑从维亚济马下令，直接进军莫斯科。

Moscou，la　capitale　asiatique　de　ce　grand　emBpire，la　ville　sacrée　des　peuples　d'Alexandre，Moscou　avec　ses　innombrables　églises　en　forme　de　pagodes　chinoises．①这个莫斯科不让拿破仑的神思安静。拿破仑骑一匹浅栗色的截尾快马，由近卫兵、警卫、少年侍从和副官陪同，从维亚济马到察列沃—扎依米希。参谋长贝蒂埃留下来审问被骑兵抓到的俄军俘虏。他在翻译官Lelorme　d'Ideville（勒洛涅·狄德维勒）的陪同下，纵马追上拿破仑，满脸高兴地勒住了马头。

①莫斯科，这庞大帝国的亚洲首都，亚历山大臣民的神圣的城市，莫斯科有数不尽的中国塔顶样式的教堂。

“Eh　bien（呃，怎么办）？”拿破仑问。

“Un　cosaque　de　Platow（一个普拉托夫的哥萨克）说，普拉托夫军团正同主力大军会合，库图佐夫就任总司令。Très　in－telligent　et　bavard（他聪明，不过是个饶舌的人）。

拿破仑微微一笑，他吩咐拨一匹马给哥萨克，立即带他来见。他要亲自同他谈谈。几个副官策马前去，一个小时后，杰尼索夫出让给罗斯托夫的农奴拉夫鲁什卡，穿着勤务兵的短上衣，骑在法国骑兵的马上，带着一张狡黠、含有醉意、快活的面孔来见拿破仑。拿破仑吩咐他和自己并辔而行开始问他。

“您是哥萨克？”

“哥萨克，大人。”

“Le　cosaque　ignorant　la　compagnie　dans　laquelle　il　se　trouvait　car　la　simplicité　de　Napoléon　n'avait　rien　qui　put　ré　véler　a　une　imagination　orientale　la　présence　d'un　souverain，s'entretint　avec　la　plus　extreme　familiarité　des　affaires　de　la　guerre　actuelle．”①梯也尔叙述这一情节说。的确，拉夫鲁什卡头天晚上喝醉了，没给主人准备好晚餐，挨了鞭打后被派到乡间去买鸡，在那里醉心于抢劫而被法军俘获。拉夫鲁什卡是那种粗野、无耻、见多识广的奴仆，他们以下流狡猾的手段办事为其天职，他们准备为自己的主人干任何勾当，并且他们狡猾地推测主人的坏心思，尤其是虚荣心和琐碎小事。

①哥萨克不知道他现在置身于什么人中间，因为拿破仑的简朴丝毫没有给予这个东方人的想象力以发现皇帝在场的可能，所以，他极其自然地讲述当前战争的形势。

落入拿破仑的人中间，拉夫鲁什卡轻而易举地认清了拿破仑本人，他一点也不惊惶夫措，只是尽力打心眼里为新的老爷们效劳。

他很明白，这就是拿破仑本人，而在拿破仑面前，并不比在罗斯托夫或拿藤条的司务长面前更使他慌张，因为无论是司务长或是拿破仑，都不能夺去他任何东西。

他信口说出在勤务兵之间闲谈的一切。其中有些是真实的。但当拿破仑问他俄国人是怎么想的，他们能否战胜波拿巴时，拉夫鲁什卡眯缝起眼睛，沉思起来。

他在这句话里看出了微妙的狡黠，类似拉夫鲁什卡的人总能在各种事情中看出狡猾的计谋，因而皱紧眉头沉默了一会儿。

“是这样的，如果有会战，”他思索地说道，“并且很快的话，那末，这样说就对了。呶，要是再过三天，要是在那天以后，那末，就是说，会战本身会拖下去。”

给拿破仑翻译的话是这样的：Si　la　bataille　est　donnée　avant　trois　jours，les　Francais　la　gagnBeraient，mais　que　si　elle　serait　donnée　plus　tard，Dieu　sait　ce　qui　en　arriverait①，Le　lorme　d'lderBille．（勒洛涅·狄德维勒）微笑着转达了。拿破仑并没有微笑，虽然他心情显然很愉快，并吩咐重说一遍。

①假如会战在三天前爆发，法国人将赢得会战，如果在三天之后呢，那只有上帝才知道会发生什么情况。

拉夫鲁什卡发觉了这一点，为了取悦于他，装着不知道他是谁的样子。

“我们知道你们有个波拿巴，他打败了世界上所有的人，但关于我们，情况却不同……”他说，连自己也不知道，说到最后，不知为什么和怎么流露出浮夸的爱国精神来了。翻译官把他的话转述给拿破仑，省掉了结尾，波拿巴于是微笑了。“Le　jeune　cosaque　fit　sourire　son　puisant　inBterlocuteur．”①梯也尔说。拿破仑沉默地走了几步，在马上转身对贝蒂埃说，他想试验一下对这个enfant　du　Don说，他的谈话的对方正是皇帝本人，即是那位把不朽的常胜者的名字书写在埃及金字塔上的皇帝。sur　cet　enfant　du　Don②会产生什么影响，

这番话传达给他了。

①年轻的哥萨克使自己强大的交谈者微笑起来。

②对这个顿河的孩子。

拉夫鲁什卡（他明白这样做是为了使他发窘，明白拿破仑认为他会吓了一跳），为了讨好新的老爷们，他立刻装出惊诧慌乱的样子，鼓起眼睛，做了一副他被带去受鞭笞时惯有的表情。“A　peine　l'interprete　de　Napoléon，”梯也尔说，“avait—il　parlé，que　le　cosaque，saisi　d'une　sorte　d'ébahissement　ne　proféra　plus　une　parole　et　marcha　les　yeux　constamment　attachés　sur　ce　conquérant，dont　le　nom　avait　pénétré　jusqu'à　lui，à　travers　les　steppes　de　l'orient．Toute　sa　loBquacite　s'était　subitement　arrêtée，pour　faire　place　à　un　sentiment　d'admiration　naive　et　silenBcieuse．Napoleon，apres　l'avoir　récompensé，lui　fit　donner—la　liberté，comme　á　un　oiseau　qu'on　rend　aux　champs　gui　l'ont　vu　nalAtre．”①

①拿破仑的翻译官刚把话说完，哥萨克立即惊愕得发呆了，再也说不出一句话来，就这样继续骑马走着，定睛望着征服者，他的名声越过东方草原传到他的耳边。哥萨克的健谈骤然中断，由天真的默默的狂喜所代替。拿破仑赏赐哥萨克，下令给他自由，就像给予小鸟自由，让它飞回家乡的田野一样。

拿破仑继续骑马往前走，一边想着使他心醉神迷的那个莫斯科，而l'oiseau　qu'on　rendit　aux　champs　qui　l'on　vu　nartre（那个被放回家乡田野的小鸟）向前哨奔驰而去，事前杜撰着实际上没有发生而是他要向自己人讲述的一切。他所实际经历的事，他并不想说，因为他觉得这是不值得一说的。他走去寻找哥萨克兵，打听到了属于普拉托夫纵队的那个团在哪里，傍晚便找到了自己的老爷尼古拉·罗斯托夫，他驻扎在扬科沃，刚骑上马，要同伊林一道去周围的乡村溜一溜。他给了拉夫鲁什卡另外一匹马，带他一道走。

CHAPTER VIII

Chinese

PRINCESS MARYA was not in Moscow and out of danger as Prince Andrey supposed.

After Alpatitch's return from Smolensk, the old prince seemed as though he had suddenly waked out of a sleep. He gave orders for the militiamen to assemble out of the villages, and to be armed; and wrote a letter to the commander-in-chief, in which he informed him of his intention to remain at Bleak Hills to the last and to defend himself, leaving it to his discretion to take steps or not for the defence of Bleak Hills, where he said one of the oldest Russian generals would be taken prisoner or die. He announced to his household that he should remain at Bleak Hills.

But though resolved himself to remain, the prince made arrangements for sending the princess with Dessalle and the little prince to Bogutcharovo, and from there on to Moscow. Frightened at her father's feverish, sleepless energy, following on his previous apathy, Princess Marya could not bring herself to leave him alone, and for the first time in her life ventured not to obey him. She refused to go, and a fearful tempest of wrath burst upon her. The prince reminded her of every previous instance of injustice to her. Trying to find pretexts for reviling her, he said she had done everything to worry him, that she had estranged him from his son, that she harboured the vilest suspicions of him, that she made it the object of her life to poison his existence. He drove her out of his study, telling her that he did not care if she did not go away. He told her that he did not want to hear of her existence, but gave her fair warning not to dare show herself before him. Princess Marya was relieved that he had not, as she had dreaded, ordered her to be forcibly removed from Bleak Hills, but had simply commanded her not to show herself. She knew that this meant that in the secret recesses of his soul he was glad she was staying at home.

The day after Nikolushka had left, the old prince dressed himself in the morning in full uniform, and prepared to make a call on the commander-in-chief. The carriage was standing ready. Princess Marya saw him in his uniform, with all his orders on his breast, walk out of the house and go down the garden to inspect the armed peasants and houseserfs. Princess Marya sat at the window listening to his voice resounding from the garden. Suddenly several men came running up the avenue with panic-stricken faces.

Princess Marya ran out on to the steps, along the flower-bed path, and into the avenue. A great crowd of militiamen and servants were coming down it towards her, and in the middle of that crowd several men were holding up and dragging along a little old man in a uniform and decorations. Princess Marya ran towards him, and in the dancing, tiny rings of light that filtered through the shade of the lime-tree avenue, she could form no distinct impression of the change in his face. The only thing she could see was that the stern and determined expression of his face had changed to a look of timidity and submission. On seeing his daughter, he tried to move his powerless lips, and uttered a hoarse sound. It was impossible to understand what he meant. He was lifted up, carried into his study, and laid on the couch, which had been such an object of dread to him of late.

The doctor, who was brought over the same night, bled him, and declared that the prince had had a stroke, paralysing his right side.

To remain at Bleak Hills was becoming more and more dangerous, and the next day they moved the prince to Bogutcharovo. The doctor travelled with him.

When they reached Bogutcharovo, they found Dessalle had already set off for Moscow with the little prince.

For three weeks the old prince lay stricken with paralysis, getting neither better nor worse, in the new house Prince Andrey had planned at Bogutcharovo. The old prince was unconscious; he lay like a deformed corpse. He muttered incessantly, twitching his eyebrows and lips, and it was impossible to tell whether he understood his surroundings or not. Only one thing could be said for certain: that was, that he was suffering, and had a craving to express something. But what that was no one could tell: whether it were some sick and half-crazy whim; whether it related to public affairs or family circumstances.

The doctor said that this uneasiness meant nothing; that it was due to physical causes. But Princess Marya believed (and the fact that her presence seemed to intensify the restlessness, confirmed her supposition) that he wanted to tell her something.

He was evidently suffering both physically and mentally. There was no hope of recovery. It was impossible to move him. What if he were to die on the road? “Wouldn't it be better if it were over, if all were over?” Princess Marya thought sometimes. Day and night, almost without sleep, she watched him, and, terrible to say, she watched him, not in the hope of finding symptoms of a change for the better, but often in the hope of seeing symptoms of the approaching end.

Strange as it was for the princess to own it to herself, she had this feeling in her heart. And what was still more horrible to Princess Marya was the fact that ever since her father's illness (if not even before, when she resolved to stay with him, in vague expectation of something) all the forgotten hopes and desires slumbering within her head awakened. Ideas that had not entered her head for years—dreams of a life free from the terror of her father, even of the possibility of love and a happy married life, haunted her imagination like temptations of the devil. In vain she tried to drive away the thought; questions were continually in her mind how she would order her life now, after this. It was a temptation of the devil, and Princess Marya knew it. She knew that the sole weapon of avail against him was prayer, and she strove to pray. She threw herself into the attitude of prayer, gazed at the holy pictures, repeated the words of the prayer, but still she could not pray. She felt herself carried off into a new world of real life, of labour and free activity, utterly opposed to the moral atmosphere in which she had been kept in bondage and in which the one consolation was prayer. She could not pray and could not weep, and practical cares absorbed her mind.

To remain at Bogutcharovo was becoming unsafe. Rumours came from all sides of the French being near, and in one village, fifteen versts from Bogutcharovo, a house had been sacked by French marauders. The doctor insisted on the necessity of moving the prince; the marshal of the province sent an official to Princess Marya to persuade her to get away as quickly as possible. The captain of the police visited Bogutcharovo to insist on the same thing, telling her that the French were only forty versts away; that French proclamations were circulating in the villages, and that if the princess did not move her father before the 15th, he could not answer for the consequences.

The princess made up her mind to leave on the 15th. The preparations and giving all the necessary instructions, for which every one applied to her, kept her busy the whole of the previous day. The night of the 14th she spent as usual, without undressing, in the room next to the one where the old prince lay. Several times she waked up, hearing his groaning and muttering, the creak of the bedstead, and the steps of Tihon and the doctor moving him. Several times she listened at the door, and it seemed to her that he was muttering more loudly than usual and turning more restlessly. She could not sleep, and several times she went to the door, listening, tempted to go in, but unable to make up her mind to do so. Although he could not speak, Princess Marya saw and knew how he disliked any expression of anxiety about him. She had noticed how he turned in displeasure away from her eyes, which were sometimes unconsciously fixed persistently on him. She knew her going in at night, at an unusual time, would irritate him.

But never had she felt so sorry for him; never had she felt it so dreadful to lose him. She went over all her life with him, and in every word, every action, she saw an expression of his love for her. Occasionally these reminiscences were interrupted by the temptation of the devil; dreams came back to her imagination of what would happen after his death, and how she would order her new independent existence. But she drove away such thoughts with horror. Towards morning he was quieter, and she fell asleep.

She waked up late. The perfect sincerity, which often accompanies the moment of waking, showed her unmistakably what it was that was of most interest to her in her father's illness. She waked up, listened to what was passing through the door, and catching the sound of his muttering, she told herself with a sigh that there was no change.

“But what should there be? What did I hope for? I hope for his death,” she cried, with inward loathing of herself.

She washed, dressed, said her prayers, and went out on to the steps. At the entrance the carriages in which their luggage was packed were standing without horses.

The morning was warm and grey. Princess Marya lingered on the steps, still horrified at her own spiritual infamy, and trying to get her ideas into shape before going in to see him.

The doctor came downstairs and out to her.

“He is a little better to-day,” said the doctor. “I was looking for you. One can make out a little of what he says. His head is clearer. Come in. He is asking for you…”

Princess Marya's heart beat so violently at this news that she turned pale and leaned against the door to keep from falling. To see him, to talk to him, to be under his eyes now, when all her soul was filled with these fearful, sinful imaginings was full of an agonising joy and terror for her.

“Let us go in,” said the doctor.

Princess Marya went in to her father, and went up to his bedside. He was lying raised high on his back; his little bony hands, covered with knotted purple veins, were laid on the quilt; his left eye was gazing straight before him, while the right eye was distorted, and his lips and eyebrows were motionless. He looked so thin, so small, and pitiable. His face looked withered up or melted away; his features all seemed smaller. Princess Marya went up and kissed his hand. His left hand clasped her hand in a way that showed he had long been wanting her. He twitched her hand, and his eyebrows and lips quivered angrily.

She looked at him in dismay, trying to fathom what he wanted of her. When she changed her position so that his left eye could see her, he seemed satisfied, and for several seconds kept his eye fixed on her. Then his lips and tongue twitched; sounds came, and he tried to speak, looking with imploring timidity at her, evidently afraid she would not understand him.

Princess Marya strained every faculty of attention as she gazed at him. The comic effort with which he strove to make his tongue work made Princess Marya drop her eyes, and she had much ado to stifle the sobs that rose in her throat. He was saying something, several times repeating his words. Princess Marya could not understand them; but she tried to guess what he was saying, and repeated interrogatively the words she supposed him to be uttering.

“O … o … aye … aye …!” he repeated several time. It was impossible to interpret these sounds. The doctor thought he had guessed it, and asked:

“The princess is afraid?”

He shook his head, and again repeated the same sounds.

“The soul, the soul is in pain!” Princess Marya guessed. He grunted affirmatively, took her hand, and began pressing it to different parts of his breast as though seeking the right place for it.

“Always thinking!—about you … thinking …!” he articulated, far more intelligibly than before now that he felt sure of being understood. Princess Marya pressed her head against his arm, trying to hide her sobs and tears.

He passed his hand over her hair.

“I called for you all night …” he articulated.

“If I had only known …” she said, through her tears. “I was afraid to come in.”

He pressed her hand.

“Weren't you asleep?”

“No, I couldn't sleep,” said Princess Marya, shaking her head.

Unconsciously imitating her father, she tried to speak more by signs, as he spoke, as though she, too, had a difficulty in articulating.

“Darling!” … or “dear one!” … Princess Marya could not distinguish the word; but from the expression of his eyes she had no doubt what was said was a word of caressing tenderness such as he had never used to her before. “Why didn't you come?”

“And I was wishing, wishing for his death!” thought Princess Marya.

He paused.

“Thanks … to you … child, dear one! for all, for all … forgive … thanks! … forgive! … thanks! …” And tears flowed from his eyes. “Call Andryusha,” he said suddenly, and a look of childish and deprecating misgiving came into his face at the question. He seemed to be himself aware that his question had no meaning. So at least it seemed to Princess Marya.

“I have had a letter from him,” answered Princess Marya.

He looked at her with timid wonder.

“Where is he?”

“He is with the army, father, at Smolensk.”

He was silent for a long while, closing his eyes. Then, as though to answer his doubts, and to assert that now he understood it all and remembered, he nodded his head and opened his eyes.

“Yes,” he said, softly and distinctly. “Russia is lost! They have lost her!”

And again he broke into sobs, and tears flowed from his eyes. Princess Marya could restrain herself no more, and wept too as she looked at his face.

He closed his eyes again. His sobs ceased. He pointed to his eyes; and Tihon, understanding him, wiped away his tears.

Then he opened his eyes, and said something, which, for a long while, no one could understand; and at last Tihon understood and interpreted.

Princess Marya looked for the drift of his words in the direction in which he had been speaking a minute before. She supposed he was speaking of Russia; then of Prince Andrey, of herself, of his grandson, then of his own death. And this was just why she could not understand his words.

“Put on your white dress. I like it,” he had said.

When she understood those words Princess Marya sobbed louder than ever, and the doctor, taking her on his arm, led her out of the room on to the terrace, trying to persuade her to calm herself, and to devote herself to preparations for the journey. After Princess Marya had left the prince, he began talking again of his son, of the war, of the Tsar, twitched his eyebrows angrily, began to raise his hoarse voice, and was seized by a second and final stroke.

Princess Marya stayed on the terrace. The day had become brilliantly fine, sunny, and warm. She could grasp nothing, could think of nothing, and feel nothing but her passionate love for her father, of which it seemed to her that she had not been aware till that minute. She ran out into the garden, and ran sobbing towards the pond along the paths planted with young lime-trees by Prince Andrey.

“Yes … I … I … I longed for his death! Yes, I wanted it soon to be over … I wanted to be at peace … And what will become of me? What use will peace be to me when he is gone?” Princess Marya muttered aloud, walking with rapid steps through the garden, and pressing her hands to her bosom, which heaved with convulsive sobs. Going round the garden in a circle, which brought her back again to the house, she saw coming towards her Mademoiselle Bourienne (who was remaining at Bogutcharovo, preferring not to move away), and with her an unknown gentleman. It was the district marshal, who had come to call on the princess, to urge upon her the necessity of her immediate departure. Princess Marya listened and did not take in what he said. She took him into the house, offered him lunch, and sat down with him. Then asking him to excuse her, she went to the old prince's door. The doctor came out with a perturbed face and told her she could not go in.

“Go away, princess; go away!”

Princess Marya went out again into the garden, and by the pond at the bottom of the hill she sat down on the grass, in a place where no one could see her. She could not have said how long she was there. A woman's footsteps running along the path made her look round. She got up and saw Dunyasha, her maid, evidently running to look for her, stop short, as though in alarm, on seeing her mistress.

“Come, please, princess … the prince …” said Dunyasha, in a breaking voice.

“I'm coming, I'm coming!” the princess cried hurriedly, not letting Dunyasha have time to say what she meant to; and trying to avoid seeing her, she ran into the house.

“Princess, it is God's will! You must be prepared for the worst,” said the marshal, meeting her at the door into the house.

“Let me be; it's not true!” she cried angrily at him.

The doctor tried to stop her. She pushed him away and ran to the door. “What are these people with scared faces stopping me for? I don't want any of them! What are they doing here?” she thought. She opened the door, and the bright daylight in the room, always hitherto darkened, frightened her. Her old nurse and other women were in the room. They all drew back from the bed, making way for her. He was still lying on the bed as before; but the stern look on his calm face arrested Princess Marya on the threshold.

“No, he is not dead, it cannot be!” Princess Marya said to herself. She went up to him, and struggling with the terror that came upon her, she pressed her lips to his cheek. But she started back from him at once. Instantaneously all the tenderness she had been feeling for him vanished, and was followed by a feeling of horror for what lay before her. “No, no, he is no more! He is no more, and here in the place where he was, is something unfamiliar and sinister, some fearful, terrifying, and repulsive secret!” And hiding her face in her hands, Princess Marya sank into the arms of the doctor, who supported her.

In the presence of Tihon and the doctor, the women washed what had been the prince, bound a kerchief round the head that the mouth might not become rigidly open, and bound another kerchief round the limbs. Then the uniform with the decorations was put on, and the little dried-up body was laid on the table. There was no telling when or who took thought for all this; it all seemed to be done of itself. Towards night candles were lighted round the coffin, a pall was laid over it, juniper was strewn on the floor, a printed prayer was put under the dead withered head, and a deacon sat in the corner reading aloud the Psalter. Like horses crowding, snorting, and starting round a dead horse, numbers of familiar and unfamiliar figures crowded round the coffin—the marshal, and the village elder, and peasant women, and all with scared and fascinated eyes, crossed themselves, and bowed down and kissed the cold, stiff hand of the old prince.