Book Eleven: 1812 - Chapter XVIII

by Leo Tolstoy

　　For the last two days, ever since leaving home, Pierre had beenliving in the empty house of his deceased benefactor, Bazdeev. This ishow it happened.

　　When he woke up on the morning after his return to Moscow and hisinterview with Count Rostopchin, he could not for some time make outwhere he was and what was expected of him. When he was informed thatamong others awaiting him in his reception room there was aFrenchman who had brought a letter from his wife, the Countess Helene,he felt suddenly overcome by that sense of confusion andhopelessness to which he was apt to succumb. He felt that everythingwas now at an end, all was in confusion and crumbling to pieces,that nobody was right or wrong, the future held nothing, and there wasno escape from this position. Smiling unnaturally and muttering tohimself, he first sat down on the sofa in an attitude of despair, thenrose, went to the door of the reception room and peeped through thecrack, returned flourishing his arms, and took up a book. Hismajor-domo came in a second time to say that the Frenchman who hadbrought the letter from the countess was very anxious to see him ifonly for a minute, and that someone from Bazdeev's widow had called toask Pierre to take charge of her husband's books, as she herself wasleaving for the country.

　　"Oh, yes, in a minute; wait... or no! No, of course... go and sayI will come directly," Pierre replied to the major-domo.

　　But as soon as the man had left the room Pierre took up his hatwhich was lying on the table and went out of his study by the otherdoor. There was no one in the passage. He went along the wholelength of this passage to the stairs and, frowning and rubbing hisforehead with both hands, went down as far as the first landing. Thehall porter was standing at the front door. From the landing wherePierre stood there was a second staircase leading to the backentrance. He went down that staircase and out into the yard. No onehad seen him. But there were some carriages waiting, and as soon asPierre stepped out of the gate the coachmen and the yard porternoticed him and raised their caps to him. When he felt he was beinglooked at he behaved like an ostrich which hides its head in a bush inorder not to be seen: he hung his head and quickening his pace wentdown the street.

　　Of all the affairs awaiting Pierre that day the sorting of JosephBazdeev's books and papers appeared to him the most necessary.

　　He hired the first cab he met and told the driver to go to thePatriarch's Ponds, where the widow Bazdeev's house was.

　　Continually turning round to look at the rows of loaded carts thatwere making their way from all sides out of Moscow, and balancinghis bulky body so as not to slip out of the ramshackle old vehicle,Pierre, experiencing the joyful feeling of a boy escaping from school,began to talk to his driver.

　　The man told him that arms were being distributed today at theKremlin and that tomorrow everyone would be sent out beyond theThree Hills gates and a great battle would be fought there.

　　Having reached the Patriarch's Ponds Pierre found the Bazdeevs'house, where he had not been for a long time past. He went up to thegate. Gerasim, that sallow beardless old man Pierre had seen atTorzhok five years before with Joseph Bazdeev, came out in answer tohis knock.

　　"At home?" asked Pierre.

　　"Owing to the present state of things Sophia Danilovna has gone tothe Torzhok estate with the children, your excellency."

　　"I will come in all the same, I have to look through the books,"said Pierre.

　　"Be so good as to step in. Makar Alexeevich, the brother of mylate master- may the kingdom of heaven be his- has remained here,but he is in a weak state as you know," said the old servant.

　　Pierre knew that Makar Alexeevich was Joseph Bazdeev's half-insanebrother and a hard drinker.

　　"Yes, yes, I know. Let us go in..." said Pierre and entered thehouse.

　　A tall, bald-headed old man with a red nose, wearing a dressing gownand with galoshes on his bare feet, stood in the anteroom. On seeingPierre he muttered something angrily and went away along the passage.

　　"He was a very clever man but has now grown quite feeble, as yourhonor sees," said Gerasim. "Will you step into the study?" Pierrenodded. "As it was sealed up so it has remained, but SophiaDanilovna gave orders that if anyone should come from you they were tohave the books."

　　Pierre went into that gloomy study which he had entered with suchtrepidation in his benefactor's lifetime. The room, dusty anduntouched since the death of Joseph Bazdeev was now even gloomier.

　　Gerasim opened one of the shutters and left the room on tiptoe.Pierre went round the study, approached the cupboard in which themanuscripts were kept, and took out what had once been one of the mostimportant, the holy of holies of the order. This was the authenticScotch Acts with Bazdeev's notes and explanations. He sat down atthe dusty writing table, and, having laid the manuscripts beforehim, opened them out, closed them, finally pushed them away, andresting his head on his hand sank into meditation.

　　Gerasim looked cautiously into the study several times and sawPierre always sitting in the same attitude.

　　More than two hours passed and Gerasim took the liberty of makinga slight noise at the door to attract his attention, but Pierre didnot hear him.

　　"Is the cabman to be discharged, your honor?"

　　"Oh yes!" said Pierre, rousing himself and rising hurriedly. "Lookhere," he added, taking Gerasim by a button of his coat and lookingdown at the old man with moist, shining, and ecstatic eyes, "I say, doyou know that there is going to be a battle tomorrow?"

　　"We heard so," replied the man.

　　"I beg you not to tell anyone who I am, and to do what I ask you."

　　"Yes, your excellency," replied Gerasim. "Will you have something toeat?"

　　"No, but I want something else. I want peasant clothes and apistol," said Pierre, unexpectedly blushing.

　　"Yes, your excellency," said Gerasim after thinking for a moment.

　　All the rest of that day Pierre spent alone in his benefactor'sstudy, and Gerasim heard him pacing restlessly from one corner toanother and talking to himself. And he spent the night on a bed madeup for him there.

　　Gerasim, being a servant who in his time had seen many strangethings, accepted Pierre's taking up his residence in the house withoutsurprise, and seemed pleased to have someone to wait on. That sameevening- without even asking himself what they were wanted for- heprocured a coachman's coat and cap for Pierre, and promised to get himthe pistol next day. Makar Alexeevich came twice that eveningshuffling along in his galoshes as far as the door and stopped andlooked ingratiatingly at Pierre. But as soon as Pierre turned towardhim he wrapped his dressing gown around him with a shamefaced andangry look and hurried away. It was when Pierre (wearing thecoachman's coat which Gerasim had procured for him and had disinfectedby steam) was on his way with the old man to buy the pistol at theSukharev market that he met the Rostovs.