Book Eleven: 1812 - Chapter XV

by Leo Tolstoy

　　Moscow's last day had come. It was a clear bright autumn day, aSunday. The church bells everywhere were ringing for service, justas usual on Sundays. Nobody seemed yet to realize what awaited thecity.

　　Only two things indicated the social condition of Moscow- therabble, that is the poor people, and the price of commodities. Anenormous crowd of factory hands, house serfs, and peasants, withwhom some officials, seminarists, and gentry were mingled, had goneearly that morning to the Three Hills. Having waited there forRostopchin who did not turn up, they became convinced that Moscowwould be surrendered, and then dispersed all about the town to thepublic houses and cookshops. Prices too that day indicated the stateof affairs. The price of weapons, of gold, of carts and horses, keptrising, but the value of paper money and city articles kept falling,so that by midday there were instances of carters removing valuablegoods, such as cloth, and receiving in payment a half of what theycarted, while peasant horses were fetching five hundred rubles each,and furniture, mirrors, and bronzes were being given away for nothing.

　　In the Rostovs' staid old-fashioned house the dissolution offormer conditions of life was but little noticeable. As to the serfsthe only indication was that three out of their huge retinuedisappeared during the night, but nothing was stolen; and as to thevalue of their possessions, the thirty peasant carts that had comein from their estates and which many people envied proved to beextremely valuable and they were offered enormous sums of money forthem. Not only were huge sums offered for the horses and carts, but onthe previous evening and early in the morning of the first ofSeptember, orderlies and servants sent by wounded officers came to theRostovs' and wounded men dragged themselves there from the Rostovs'and from neighboring houses where they were accommodated, entreatingthe servants to try to get them a lift out of Moscow. The major-domoto whom these entreaties were addressed, though he was sorry for thewounded, resolutely refused, saying that he dare not even mentionthe matter to the count. Pity these wounded men as one might, it wasevident that if they were given one cart there would be no reason torefuse another, or all the carts and one's own carriages as well.Thirty carts could not save all the wounded and in the generalcatastrophe one could not disregard oneself and one's own family. Sothought the major-domo on his master's behalf.

　　On waking up that morning Count Ilya Rostov left his bedroom softly,so as not to wake the countess who had fallen asleep only towardmorning, and came out to the porch in his lilac silk dressing gown. Inthe yard stood the carts ready corded. The carriages were at the frontporch. The major-domo stood at the porch talking to an elderly orderlyand to a pale young officer with a bandaged arm. On seeing the countthe major-domo made a significant and stern gesture to them both to goaway.

　　"Well, Vasilich, is everything ready?" asked the count, and strokinghis bald head he looked good-naturedly at the officer and theorderly and nodded to them. (He liked to see new faces.)

　　"We can harness at once, your excellency."

　　"Well, that's right. As soon as the countess wakes we'll be off, Godwilling! What is it, gentlemen?" he added, turning to the officer."Are you staying in my house?"

　　The officer came nearer and suddenly his face flushed crimson.

　　"Count, be so good as to allow me... for God's sake, to get intosome corner of one of your carts! I have nothing here with me.... Ishall be all right on a loaded cart..."

　　Before the officer had finished speaking the orderly made the samerequest on behalf of his master.

　　"Oh, yes, yes,yes!" said the count hastily. "I shall be verypleased, very pleased. Vasilich, you'll see to it. Just unload oneor two carts. Well, what of it... do what's necessary..." said thecount, muttering some indefinite order.

　　But at the same moment an expression of warm gratitude on theofficer's face had already sealed the order. The count looked aroundhim. In the yard, at the gates, at the window of the wings, woundedofficers and their orderlies were to be seen. They were all looking atthe count and moving toward the porch.

　　"Please step into the gallery, your excellency," said themajor-domo. "What are your orders about the pictures?"

　　The count went into the house with him, repeating his order not torefuse the wounded who asked for a lift.

　　"Well, never mind, some of the things can be unloaded," he addedin a soft, confidential voice, as though afraid of being overheard.

　　At nine o'clock the countess woke up, and Matrena Timofeevna, whohad been her lady's maid before her marriage and now performed asort of chief gendarme's duty for her, came to say that MadameSchoss was much offended and the young ladies' summer dresses couldnot be left behind. On inquiry, the countess learned that MadameSchoss was offended because her trunk had been taken down from itscart, and all the loads were being uncorded and the luggage takenout of the carts to make room for wounded men whom the count in thesimplicity of his heart had ordered that they should take with them.The countess sent for her husband.

　　"What is this, my dear? I hear that the luggage is being unloaded."

　　"You know, love, I wanted to tell you... Countess dear... an officercame to me to ask for a few carts for the wounded. After all, ours arethings that can be bought but think what being left behind means tothem!... Really now, in our own yard- we asked them in ourselves andthere are officers among them.... You know, I think, my dear... letthem be taken... where's the hurry?"

　　The count spoke timidly, as he always did when talking of moneymatters. The countess was accustomed to this tone as a precursor ofnews of something detrimental to the children's interests, such as thebuilding of a new gallery or conservatory, the inauguration of aprivate theater or an orchestra. She was accustomed always to opposeanything announced in that timid tone and considered it her duty to doso.

　　She assumed her dolefully submissive manner and said to her husband:"Listen to me, Count, you have managed matters so that we aregetting nothing for the house, and now you wish to throw away all our-all the children's property! You said yourself that we have ahundred thousand rubles' worth of things in the house. I don'tconsent, my dear, I don't! Do as you please! It's the government'sbusiness to look after the wounded; they know that. Look at theLopukhins opposite, they cleared out everything two days ago. That'swhat other people do. It's only we who are such fools. If you haveno pity on me, have some for the children."

　　Flourishing his arms in despair the count left the room withoutreplying.

　　"Papa, what are you doing that for?" asked Natasha, who had followedhim into her mother's room.

　　"Nothing! What business is it of yours?" muttered the count angrily.

　　"But I heard," said Natasha. "Why does Mamma object?"

　　"What business is it of yours?" cried the count.

　　Natasha stepped up to the window and pondered.

　　"Papa! Here's Berg coming to see us," said she, looking out of thewindow.