Book One: 1805 - Chapter XIX

by Leo Tolstoy

　　At the men's end of the table the talk grew more and moreanimated. The colonel told them that the declaration of war hadalready appeared in Petersburg and that a copy, which he had himselfseen, had that day been forwarded by courier to the commander inchief.

　　"And why the deuce are we going to fight Bonaparte?" remarkedShinshin. "He has stopped Austria's cackle and I fear it will be ourturn next."

　　The colonel was a stout, tall, plethoric German, evidently devotedto the service and patriotically Russian. He resented Shinshin'sremark.

　　"It is for the reasson, my goot sir," said he, speaking with aGerman accent, "for the reasson zat ze Emperor knows zat. Hedeclares in ze manifessto zat he cannot fiew wiz indifference zedanger vreatening Russia and zat ze safety and dignity of ze Empire asvell as ze sanctity of its alliances..." he spoke this last wordwith particular emphasis as if in it lay the gist of the matter.

　　Then with the unerring official memory that characterized him herepeated from the opening words of the manifesto:

　　... and the wish, which constitutes the Emperor's sole andabsolute aim- to establish peace in Europe on firm foundations- hasnow decided him to despatch part of the army abroad and to create anew condition for the attainment of that purpose.

　　"Zat, my dear sir, is vy..." he concluded, drinking a tumbler ofwine with dignity and looking to the count for approval.

　　"Connaissez-vous le Proverbe:* 'Jerome, Jerome, do not roam, butturn spindles at home!'?" said Shinshin, puckering his brows andsmiling. "Cela nous convient a merveille.*[2] Suvorov now- he knewwhat he was about; yet they beat him a plate couture,*[3] and whereare we to find Suvorovs now? Je vous demande un peu,"*[4] said he,continually changing from French to Russian.

　　*Do you know the proverb?

　　*[2] That suits us down to the ground.

　　*[3] Hollow.

　　*[4] I just ask you that.

　　"Ve must vight to the last tr-r-op of our plood!" said thecolonel, thumping the table; "and ve must tie for our Emperor, and zenall vill pe vell. And ve must discuss it as little as po-o-ossible"...he dwelt particularly on the word possible... "as po-o-ossible," heended, again turning to the count. "Zat is how ve old hussars lookat it, and zere's an end of it! And how do you, a young man and ayoung hussar, how do you judge of it?" he added, addressingNicholas, who when he heard that the war was being discussed hadturned from his partner with eyes and ears intent on the colonel.

　　"I am quite of your opinion," replied Nicholas, flaming up,turning his plate round and moving his wineglasses about with asmuch decision and desperation as though he were at that momentfacing some great danger. "I am convinced that we Russians must die orconquer," he concluded, conscious- as were others- after the wordswere uttered that his remarks were too enthusiastic and emphatic forthe occasion and were therefore awkward.

　　"What you said just now was splendid!" said his partner Julie.

　　Sonya trembled all over and blushed to her ears and behind themand down to her neck and shoulders while Nicholas was speaking.

　　Pierre listened to the colonel's speech and nodded approvingly.

　　"That's fine," said he.

　　"The young man's a real hussar!" shouted the colonel, again thumpingthe table.

　　"What are you making such a noise about over there?" MaryaDmitrievna's deep voice suddenly inquired from the other end of thetable. "What are you thumping the table for?" she demanded of thehussar, "and why are you exciting yourself? Do you think the Frenchare here?"

　　"I am speaking ze truce," replied the hussar with a smile.

　　"It's all about the war," the count shouted down the table. "Youknow my son's going, Marya Dmitrievna? My son is going."

　　"I have four sons in the army but still I don't fret. It is all inGod's hands. You may die in your bed or God may spare you in abattle," replied Marya Dmitrievna's deep voice, which easily carriedthe whole length of the table.

　　"That's true!"

　　Once more the conversations concentrated, the ladies' at the one endand the men's at the other.

　　"You won't ask," Natasha's little brother was saying; "I know youwon't ask!"

　　"I will," replied Natasha.

　　Her face suddenly flushed with reckless and joyous resolution. Shehalf rose, by a glance inviting Pierre, who sat opposite, to listen towhat was coming, and turning to her mother:

　　"Mamma!" rang out the clear contralto notes of her childish voice,audible the whole length of the table.

　　"What is it?" asked the countess, startled; but seeing by herdaughter's face that it was only mischief, she shook a finger at hersternly with a threatening and forbidding movement of her head.

　　The conversation was hushed.

　　"Mamma! What sweets are we going to have?" and Natasha's voicesounded still more firm and resolute.

　　The countess tried to frown, but could not. Marya Dmitrievna shookher fat finger.

　　"Cossack!" she said threateningly.

　　Most of the guests, uncertain how to regard this sally, looked atthe elders.

　　"You had better take care!" said the countess.

　　"Mamma! What sweets are we going to have?" Natasha again criedboldly, with saucy gaiety, confident that her prank would be takenin good part.

　　Sonya and fat little Petya doubled up with laughter.

　　"You see! I have asked," whispered Natasha to her little brother andto Pierre, glancing at him again.

　　"Ice pudding, but you won't get any," said Marya Dmitrievna.

　　Natasha saw there was nothing to be afraid of and so she braved evenMarya Dmitrievna.

　　"Marya Dmitrievna! What kind of ice pudding? I don't like icecream."

　　"Carrot ices."

　　"No! What kind, Marya Dmitrievna? What kind?" she almost screamed;"I want to know!"

　　Marya Dmitrievna and the countess burst out laughing, and all theguests joined in. Everyone laughed, not at Marya Dmitrievna's answerbut at the incredible boldness and smartness of this little girl whohad dared to treat Marya Dmitrievna in this fashion.

　　Natasha only desisted when she had been told that there would bepineapple ice. Before the ices, champagne was served round. The bandagain struck up, the count and countess kissed, and the guests,leaving their seats, went up to "congratulate" the countess, andreached across the table to clink glasses with the count, with thechildren, and with one another. Again the footmen rushed about, chairsscraped, and in the same order in which they had entered but withredder faces, the guests returned to the drawing room and to thecount's study.