Book Eleven: 1812 - Chapter XVI

by Leo Tolstoy

　　Berg, the Rostovs' son-in-law, was already a colonel wearing theorders of Vladimir and Anna, and he still filled the quiet andagreeable post of assistant to the head of the staff of theassistant commander of the first division of the Second Army.

　　On the first of September he had come to Moscow from the army.

　　He had nothing to do in Moscow, but he had noticed that everyonein the army was asking for leave to visit Moscow and had somethingto do there. So he considered it necessary to ask for leave of absencefor family and domestic reasons.

　　Berg drove up to his father-in-law's house in his spruce little trapwith a pair of sleek roans, exactly like those of a certain prince. Helooked attentively at the carts in the yard and while going up tothe porch took out a clean pocket handkerchief and tied a knot in it.

　　From the anteroom Berg ran with smooth though impatient steps intothe drawing room, where he embraced the count, kissed the hands ofNatasha and Sonya, and hastened to inquire after "Mamma's" health.

　　"Health, at a time like this?" said the count. "Come, tell us thenews! Is the army retreating or will there be another battle?"

　　"God Almighty alone can decide the fate of our fatherland, Papa,"said Berg. "The army is burning with a spirit of heroism and theleaders, so to say, have now assembled in council. No one knows whatis coming. But in general I can tell you, Papa, that such a heroicspirit, the truly antique valor of the Russian army, which they- whichit" (he corrected himself) "has shown or displayed in the battle ofthe twenty-sixth- there are no words worthy to do it justice! I tellyou, Papa" (he smote himself on the breast as a general he had heardspeaking had done, but Berg did it a trifle late for he should havestruck his breast at the words "Russian army"), "I tell you franklythat we, the commanders, far from having to urge the men on oranything of that kind, could hardly restrain those... those... yes,those exploits of antique valor," he went on rapidly. "General Barclayde Tolly risked his life everywhere at the head of the troops, I canassure you. Our corps was stationed on a hillside. You can imagine!"

　　And Berg related all that he remembered of the various tales hehad heard those days. Natasha watched him with an intent gaze thatconfused him, as if she were trying to find in his face the answerto some question.

　　"Altogether such heroism as was displayed by the Russian warriorscannot be imagined or adequately praised!" said Berg, glancing roundat Natasha, and as if anxious to conciliate her, replying to herintent look with a smile. "'Russia is not in Moscow, she lives inthe hearts of her sons!' Isn't it so, Papa?" said he.

　　Just then the countess came in from the sitting room with a wearyand dissatisfied expression. Berg hurriedly jumped up, kissed herhand, asked about her health, and, swaying his head from side toside to express sympathy, remained standing beside her.

　　"Yes, Mamma, I tell you sincerely that these are hard and sadtimes for every Russian. But why are you so anxious? You have stilltime to get away...."

　　"I can't think what the servants are about," said the countess,turning to her husband. "I have just been told that nothing is readyyet. Somebody after all must see to things. One misses Mitenka at suchtimes. There won't be any end to it."

　　The count was about to say something, but evidently restrainedhimself. He got up from his chair and went to the door.

　　At that moment Berg drew out his handkerchief as if to blow his noseand, seeing the knot in it, pondered, shaking his head sadly andsignificantly.

　　"And I have a great favor to ask of you, Papa," said he.

　　"Hm..." said the count, and stopped.

　　"I was driving past Yusupov's house just now," said Berg with alaugh, "when the steward, a man I know, ran out and asked me whether Iwouldn't buy something. I went in out of curiosity, you know, andthere is a small chiffonier and a dressing table. You know how dearVera wanted a chiffonier like that and how we had a dispute about it."(At the mention of the chiffonier and dressing table Berginvoluntarily changed his tone to one of pleasure at his admirabledomestic arrangements.) "And it's such a beauty! It pulls out andhas a secret English drawer, you know! And dear Vera has long wantedone. I wish to give her a surprise, you see. I saw so many of thosepeasant carts in your yard. Please let me have one, I will pay the manwell, and..."

　　The count frowned and coughed.

　　"Ask the countess, I don't give orders."

　　"If it's inconvenient, please don't," said Berg. "Only I so wantedit, for dear Vera's sake."

　　"Oh, go to the devil, all of you! To the devil, the devil, thedevil..." cried the old count. "My head's in a whirl!"

　　And he left the room. The countess began to cry.

　　"Yes, Mamma! Yes, these are very hard times!" said Berg.

　　Natasha left the room with her father and, as if finding itdifficult to reach some decision, first followed him and then randownstairs.

　　Petya was in the porch, engaged in giving out weapons to theservants who were to leave Moscow. The loaded carts were stillstanding in the yard. Two of them had been uncorded and a woundedofficer was climbing into one of them helped by an orderly.

　　"Do you know what it's about?" Petya asked Natasha.

　　She understood that he meant what were their parents quarrelingabout. She did not answer.

　　"It's because Papa wanted to give up all the carts to thewounded," said Petya. "Vasilich told me. I consider..."

　　"I consider," Natasha suddenly almost shouted, turning her angryface to Petya, "I consider it so horrid, so abominable, so... Idon't know what. Are we despicable Germans?"

　　Her throat quivered with convulsive sobs and, afraid of weakeningand letting the force of her anger run to waste, she turned and rushedheadlong up the stairs.

　　Berg was sitting beside the countess consoling her with therespectful attention of a relative. The count, pipe in hand, waspacing up and down the room, when Natasha, her face distorted byanger, burst in like a tempest and approached her mother with rapidsteps.

　　"It's horrid! It's abominable! she screamed. "You can't possiblyhave ordered it!"

　　Berg and the countess looked at her, perplexed and frightened. Thecount stood still at the window and listened.

　　"Mamma, it's impossible: see what is going on in the yard!" shecried. "They will be left!..."

　　"What's the matter with you? Who are 'they'? What do you want?"

　　"Why, the wounded! It's impossible, Mamma. It's monstrous!... No,Mamma darling, it's not the thing. Please forgive me, darling....Mamma, what does it matter what we take away? Only look what isgoing on in the yard... Mamma!... It's impossible!"

　　The count stood by the window and listened without turning round.Suddenly he sniffed and put his face closer to the window.

　　The countess glanced at her daughter, saw her face full of shame forher mother, saw her agitation, and understood why her husband didnot turn to look at her now, and she glanced round quite disconcerted.

　　"Oh, do as you like! Am I hindering anyone?" she said, notsurrendering at once.

　　"Mamma, darling, forgive me!"

　　But the countess pushed her daughter away and went up to herhusband.

　　"My dear, you order what is right.... You know I don't understandabout it," said she, dropping her eyes shamefacedly.

　　"The eggs... the eggs are teaching the hen," muttered the countthrough tears of joy, and he embraced his wife who was glad to hideher look of shame on his breast.

　　"Papa! Mamma! May I see to it? May I?..." asked Natasha. "We willstill take all the most necessary things."

　　The count nodded affirmatively, and Natasha, at the rapid pace atwhich she used to run when playing at tag, ran through the ballroom tothe anteroom and downstairs into the yard.

　　The servants gathered round Natasha, but could not believe thestrange order she brought them until the count himself, in hiswife's name, confirmed the order to give up all the carts to thewounded and take the trunks to the storerooms. When they understoodthat order the servants set to work at this new task with pleasure andzeal. It no longer seemed strange to them but on the contrary itseemed the only thing that could be done, just as a quarter of an hourbefore it had not seemed strange to anyone that the wounded shouldbe left behind and the goods carted away but that had seemed theonly thing to do.

　　The whole household, as if to atone for not having done it sooner,set eagerly to work at the new task of placing the wounded in thecarts. The wounded dragged themselves out of their rooms and stoodwith pale but happy faces round the carts. The news that carts were tobe had spread to the neighboring houses, from which wounded menbegan to come into the Rostovs' yard. Many of the wounded asked themnot to unload the carts but only to let them sit on the top of thethings. But the work of unloading, once started, could not bearrested. It seemed not to matter whether all or only half thethings were left behind. Cases full of china, bronzes, pictures, andmirrors that had been so carefully packed the night before now layabout the yard, and still they went on searching for and findingpossibilities of unloading this or that and letting the wounded haveanother and yet another cart.

　　"We can take four more men," said the steward. "They can have mytrap, or else what is to become of them?"

　　"Let them have my wardrobe cart," said the countess. "Dunyasha cango with me in the carriage."

　　They unloaded the wardrobe cart and sent it to take wounded men froma house two doors off. The whole household, servants included, wasbright and animated. Natasha was in a state of rapturous excitementsuch as she had not known for a long time.

　　"What could we fasten this onto?" asked the servants, trying tofix a trunk on the narrow footboard behind a carriage. "We must keepat least one cart."

　　"What's in it?" asked Natasha.

　　"The count's books."

　　"Leave it, Vasilich will put it away. It's not wanted."

　　The phaeton was full of people and there was a doubt as to whereCount Peter could sit.

　　"On the box. You'll sit on the box, won't you, Petya?" criedNatasha.

　　Sonya too was busy all this time, but the aim of her efforts wasquite different from Natasha's. She was putting away the things thathad to be left behind and making a list of them as the countesswished, and she tried to get as much taken away with them as possible.