Book Nine: 1812 - Chapter XX

by Leo Tolstoy

　　A few intimate friends were dining with the Rostovs that day, asusual on Sundays.

　　Pierre came early so as to find them alone.

　　He had grown so stout this year that he would have been abnormal hadhe not been so tall, so broad of limb, and so strong that he carriedhis bulk with evident ease.

　　He went up the stairs, puffing and muttering something. His coachmandid not even ask whether he was to wait. He knew that when hismaster was at the Rostovs' he stayed till midnight. The Rostovs'footman rushed eagerly forward to help him off with his cloak and takehis hat and stick. Pierre, from club habit, always left both hat andstick in the anteroom.

　　The first person he saw in the house was Natasha. Even before he sawher, while taking off his cloak, he heard her. She was practicingsolfa exercises in the music room. He knew that she had not sung sinceher illness, and so the sound of her voice surprised and delightedhim. He opened the door softly and saw her, in the lilac dress she hadworn at church, walking about the room singing. She had her back tohim when he opened the door, but when, turning quickly, she saw hisbroad, surprised face, she blushed and came rapidly up to him.

　　"I want to try to sing again," she said, adding as if by way ofexcuse, "it is, at least, something to do."

　　"That's capital!"

　　"How glad I am you've come! I am so happy today," she said, with theold animation Pierre had not seen in her for along time. "You knowNicholas has received a St. George's Cross? I am so proud of him."

　　"Oh yes, I sent that announcement. But I don't want to interruptyou," he added, and was about to go to the drawing room.

　　Natasha stopped him.

　　"Count, is it wrong of me to sing?" she said blushing, and fixingher eyes inquiringly on him.

　　"No... Why should it be? On the contrary... But why do you ask me?"

　　"I don't know myself," Natasha answered quickly, "but I should notlike to do anything you disapproved of. I believe in you completely.You don't know how important you are to me, how much you've done forme...." She spoke rapidly and did not notice how Pierre flushed at herwords. "I saw in that same army order that he, Bolkonski" (shewhispered the name hastily), "is in Russia, and in the army again.What do you think?"- she was speaking hurriedly, evidently afraidher strength might fail her- "Will he ever forgive me? Will he notalways have a bitter feeling toward me? What do you think? What do youthink?"

　　"I think..." Pierre replied, "that he has nothing to forgive....If I were in his place..."

　　By association of ideas, Pierre was at once carried back to theday when, trying to comfort her, he had said that if he were nothimself but the best man in the world and free, he would ask on hisknees for her hand; and the same feeling of pity, tenderness, and lovetook possession of him and the same words rose to his lips. But shedid not give him time to say them.

　　"Yes, you... you..." she said, uttering the word you rapturously-"that's a different thing. I know no one kinder, more generous, orbetter than you; nobody could be! Had you not been there then, and nowtoo, I don't know what would have become of me, because..."

　　Tears suddenly rose in her eyes, she turned away, lifted her musicbefore her eyes, began singing again, and again began walking up anddown the room.

　　Just then Petya came running in from the drawing room.

　　Petya was now a handsome rosy lad of fifteen with full red lipsand resembled Natasha. He was preparing to enter the university, buthe and his friend Obolenski had lately, in secret, agreed to jointhe hussars.

　　Petya had come rushing out to talk to his namesake about thisaffair. He had asked Pierre to find out whether he would be acceptedin the hussars.

　　Pierre walked up and down the drawing room, not listening to whatPetya was saying.

　　Petya pulled him by the arm to attract his attention.

　　"Well, what about my plan? Peter Kirilych, for heaven's sake! Youare my only hope " said Petya.

　　"Oh yes, your plan. To join the hussars? I'll mention it, I'll bringit all up today."

　　"Well, mon cher, have you got the manifesto?" asked the old count."The countess has been to Mass at the Razumovskis' and heard the newprayer. She says it's very fine."

　　"Yes, I've got it," said Pierre. "The Emperor is to be heretomorrow... there's to be an Extraordinary Meeting of the nobility,and they are talking of a levy of ten men per thousand. Oh yes, let mecongratulate you!"

　　"Yes, yes, thank God! Well, and what news from the army?"

　　"We are again retreating. They say we're already near Smolensk,"replied Pierre.

　　"O Lord, O Lord!" exclaimed the count. "Where is the manifesto?"

　　"The Emperor's appeal? Oh yes!"

　　Pierre began feeling in his pockets for the papers, but could notfind them. Still slapping his pockets, he kissed the hand of thecountess who entered the room and glanced uneasily around, evidentlyexpecting Natasha, who had left off singing but had not yet comeinto the drawing room.

　　"On my word, I don't know what I've done with it," he said.

　　"There he is, always losing everything!" remarked the countess.

　　Natasha entered with a softened and agitated expression of faceand sat down looking silently at Pierre. As soon as she entered,Pierre's features, which had been gloomy, suddenly lighted up, andwhile still searching for the papers he glanced at her several times.

　　"No, really! I'll drive home, I must have left them there. I'llcertainly..."

　　"But you'll be late for dinner."

　　"Oh! And my coachman has gone."

　　But Sonya, who had gone to look for the papers in the anteroom,had found them in Pierre's hat, where he had carefully tucked themunder the lining. Pierre was about to begin reading.

　　"No, after dinner," said the old count, evidently expecting muchenjoyment from that reading.

　　At dinner, at which champagne was drunk to the health of the newchevalier of St. George, Shinshin told them the town news, of theillness of the old Georgian princess, of Metivier's disappearance fromMoscow, and of how some German fellow had been brought to Rostopchinand accused of being a French "spyer" (so Count Rostopchin had toldthe story), and how Rostopchin let him go and assured the peoplethat he was "not a spire at all, but only an old German ruin."

　　"People are being arrested..." said the count. "I've told thecountess she should not speak French so much. It's not the time for itnow."

　　"And have you heard?" Shinshin asked. "Prince Golitsyn has engaged amaster to teach him Russian. It is becoming dangerous to speakFrench in the streets."

　　"And how about you, Count Peter Kirilych? If they call up themilitia, you too will have to mount a horse," remarked the oldcount, addressing Pierre.

　　Pierre had been silent and preoccupied all through dinner, seemingnot to grasp what was said. He looked at the count.

　　"Oh yes, the war," he said. "No! What sort of warrior should I make?And yet everything is so strange, so strange! I can't make it out. Idon't know, I am very far from having military tastes, but in thesetimes no one can answer for himself."

　　After dinner the count settled himself comfortably in an easychair and with a serious face asked Sonya, who was considered anexcellent reader, to read the appeal.

　　"To Moscow, our ancient Capital!

　　"The enemy has entered the borders of Russia with immense forces. Hecomes to despoil our beloved country,"

　　Sonya read painstakingly in her high-pitched voice. The countlistened with closed eyes, heaving abrupt sighs at certain passages.

　　Natasha sat erect, gazing with a searching look now at her fatherand now at Pierre.

　　Pierre felt her eyes on him and tried not to look round. Thecountess shook her head disapprovingly and angrily at every solemnexpression in the manifesto. In all these words she saw only thatthe danger threatening her son would not soon be over. Shinshin,with a sarcastic smile on his lips, was evidently preparing to makefun of anything that gave him the opportunity: Sonya's reading, anyremark of the count's, or even the manifesto itself should no betterpretext present itself.

　　After reading about the dangers that threatened Russia, the hopesthe Emperor placed on Moscow and especially on its illustriousnobility, Sonya, with a quiver in her voice due chiefly to theattention that was being paid to her, read the last words:

　　"We ourselves will not delay to appear among our people in thatCapital and in others parts of our realm for consultation, and for thedirection of all our levies, both those now barring the enemy's pathand those freshly formed to defeat him wherever he may appear. May theruin he hopes to bring upon us recoil on his own head, and mayEurope delivered from bondage glorify the name of Russia!"

　　"Yes, that's it!" cried the count, opening his moist eyes andsniffing repeatedly, as if a strong vinaigrette had been held to hisnose; and he added, "Let the Emperor but say the word and we'llsacrifice everything and begrudge nothing."

　　Before Shinshin had time to utter the joke he was ready to make onthe count's patriotism, Natasha jumped up from her place and ran toher father.

　　"What a darling our Papa is!" she cried, kissing him, and sheagain looked at Pierre with the unconscious coquetry that had returnedto her with her better spirits.

　　"There! Here's a patriot for you!" said Shinshin.

　　"Not a patriot at all, but simply..." Natasha replied in aninjured tone. "Everything seems funny to you, but this isn't at alla joke...."

　　"A joke indeed!" put in the count. "Let him but say the word andwe'll all go.... We're not Germans!"

　　"But did you notice, it says, 'for consultation'?" said Pierre.

　　"Never mind what it's for...."

　　At this moment, Petya, to whom nobody was paying any attention, cameup to his father with a very flushed face and said in his breakingvoice that was now deep and now shrill:

　　"Well, Papa, I tell you definitely, and Mamma too, it's as youplease, but I say definitely that you must let me enter the army,because I can't... that's all...."

　　The countess, in dismay, looked up to heaven, clasped her hands, andturned angrily to her husband.

　　"That comes of your talking!" said she.

　　But the count had already recovered from his excitement.

　　"Come, come!" said he. "Here's a fine warrior! No! Nonsense! Youmust study."

　　"It's not nonsense, Papa. Fedya Obolenski is younger than I, andhe's going too. Besides, all the same I can't study now when..." Petyastopped short, flushed till he perspired, but still got out the words,"when our Fatherland is in danger."

　　"That'll do, that'll do- nonsense...."

　　"But you said yourself that we would sacrifice everything."

　　"Petya! Be quiet, I tell you!" cried the count, with a glance at hiswife, who had turned pale and was staring fixedly at her son.

　　"And I tell you- Peter Kirilych here will also tell you..."

　　"Nonsense, I tell you. Your mother's milk has hardly dried on yourlips and you want to go into the army! There, there, I tell you,"and the count moved to go out of the room, taking the papers, probablyto reread them in his study before having a nap.

　　"Well, Peter Kirilych, let's go and have a smoke," he said.

　　Pierre was agitated and undecided. Natasha's unwontedly brillianteyes, continually glancing at him with a more than cordial look, hadreduced him to this condition.

　　"No, I think I'll go home."

　　"Home? Why, you meant to spend the evening with us.... You don'toften come nowadays as it is, and this girl of mine," said the countgood-naturedly, pointing to Natasha, "only brightens up when you'rehere."

　　"Yes, I had forgotten... I really must go home... business..."said Pierre hurriedly.

　　"Well, then, au revoir!" said the count, and went out of the room.

　　"Why are you going? Why are you upset?" asked Natasha, and shelooked challengingly into Pierre's eyes.

　　"Because I love you!" was what he wanted to say, but he did notsay it, and only blushed till the tears came, and lowered his eyes.

　　"Because it is better for me to come less often... because... No,simply I have business...."

　　"Why? No, tell me!" Natasha began resolutely and suddenly stopped.

　　They looked at each other with dismayed and embarrassed faces. Hetried to smile but could not: his smile expressed suffering, and hesilently kissed her hand and went out.

　　Pierre made up his mind not to go to the Rostovs' any more.