Book Three: 1805 - Chapter VII

by Leo Tolstoy

　　On the twelfth of November, Kutuzov's active army, in camp beforeOlmutz, was preparing to be reviewed next day by the two Emperors- theRussian and the Austrian. The Guards, just arrived from Russia,spent the night ten miles from Olmutz and next morning were to comestraight to the review, reaching the field at Olmutz by ten o'clock.

　　That day Nicholas Rostov received a letter from Boris, telling himthat the Ismaylov regiment was quartered for the night ten milesfrom Olmutz and that he wanted to see him as he had a letter and moneyfor him. Rostov was particularly in need of money now that the troops,after their active service, were stationed near Olmutz and the campswarmed with well-provisioned sutlers and Austrian Jews offering allsorts of tempting wares. The Pavlograds held feast after feast,celebrating awards they had received for the campaign, and madeexpeditions to Olmutz to visit a certain Caroline the Hungarian, whohad recently opened a restaurant there with girls as waitresses.Rostov, who had just celebrated his promotion to a cornetcy and boughtDenisov's horse, Bedouin, was in debt all round, to his comrades andthe sutlers. On receiving Boris' letter he rode with a fellowofficer to Olmutz, dined there, drank a bottle of wine, and then setoff alone to the Guards' camp to find his old playmate. Rostov had notyet had time to get his uniform. He had on a shabby cadet jacket,decorated with a soldier's cross, equally shabby cadet's ridingbreeches lined with worn leather, and an officer's saber with asword knot. The Don horse he was riding was one he had bought from aCossack during the campaign, and he wore a crumpled hussar cap stuckjauntily back on one side of his head. As he rode up to the camp hethought how he would impress Boris and all his comrades of theGuards by his appearance- that of a fighting hussar who had been underfire.

　　The Guards had made their whole march as if on a pleasure trip,parading their cleanliness and discipline. They had come by easystages, their knapsacks conveyed on carts, and the Austrianauthorities had provided excellent dinners for the officers at everyhalting place. The regiments had entered and left the town withtheir bands playing, and by the Grand Duke's orders the men hadmarched all the way in step (a practice on which the Guards pridedthemselves), the officers on foot and at their proper posts. Boris hadbeen quartered, and had marched all the way, with Berg who was alreadyin command of a company. Berg, who had obtained his captaincy duringthe campaign, had gained the confidence of his superiors by hispromptitude and accuracy and had arranged his money matters verysatisfactorily. Boris, during the campaign, had made theacquaintance of many persons who might prove useful to him, and by aletter of recommendation he had brought from Pierre had becomeacquainted with Prince Andrew Bolkonski, through whom he hoped toobtain a post on the commander in chief's staff. Berg and Boris,having rested after yesterday's march, were sitting, clean andneatly dressed, at a round table in the clean quarters allotted tothem, playing chess. Berg held a smoking pipe between his knees.Boris, in the accurate way characteristic of him, was building alittle pyramid of chessmen with his delicate white fingers whileawaiting Berg's move, and watched his opponent's face, evidentlythinking about the game as he always thought only of whatever he wasengaged on.

　　"Well, how are you going to get out of that?" he remarked.

　　"We'll try to," replied Berg, touching a pawn and then removinghis hand.

　　At that moment the door opened.

　　"Here he is at last!" shouted Rostov. "And Berg too! Oh, youpetisenfans, allay cushay dormir!" he exclaimed, imitating his Russiannurse's French, at which he and Boris used to laugh long ago.

　　"Dear me, how you have changed!"

　　Boris rose to meet Rostov, but in doing so did not omit to steadyand replace some chessmen that were falling. He was about to embracehis friend, but Nicholas avoided him. With that peculiar feeling ofyouth, that dread of beaten tracks, and wish to express itself in amanner different from that of its elders which is often insincere,Nicholas wished to do something special on meeting his friend. Hewanted to pinch him, push him, do anything but kiss him- a thingeverybody did. But notwithstanding this, Boris embraced him in aquiet, friendly way and kissed him three times.

　　They had not met for nearly half a year and, being at the age whenyoung men take their first steps on life's road, each saw immensechanges in the other, quite a new reflection of the society in whichthey had taken those first steps. Both had changed greatly sincethey last met and both were in a hurry to show the changes that hadtaken place in them.

　　"Oh, you damned dandies! Clean and fresh as if you'd been to a fete,not like us sinners of the line," cried Rostov, with martial swaggerand with baritone notes in his voice, new to Boris, pointing to hisown mud-bespattered breeches. The German landlady, hearing Rostov'sloud voice, popped her head in at the door.

　　"Eh, is she pretty?" he asked with a wink.

　　"Why do you shout so? You'll frighten them!" said Boris. "I didnot expect you today," he added. "I only sent you the note yesterdayby Bolkonski- an adjutant of Kutuzov's, who's a friend of mine. Idid not think he would get it to you so quickly.... Well, how are you?Been under fire already?" asked Boris.

　　Without answering, Rostov shook the soldier's Cross of St. Georgefastened to the cording of his uniform and, indicating a bandaged arm,glanced at Berg with a smile.

　　"As you see," he said.

　　"Indeed? Yes, yes!" said Boris, with a smile. "And we too have had asplendid march. You know, of course, that His Imperial Highness rodewith our regiment all the time, so that we had every comfort and everyadvantage. What receptions we had in Poland! What dinners and balls! Ican't tell you. And the Tsarevich was very gracious to all ourofficers."

　　And the two friends told each other of their doings, the one ofhis hussar revels and life in the fighting line, the other of thepleasures and advantages of service under members of the Imperialfamily.

　　"Oh, you Guards!" said Rostov. "I say, send for some wine."

　　Boris made a grimace.

　　"If you really want it," said he.

　　He went to his bed, drew a purse from under the clean pillow, andsent for wine.

　　"Yes, and I have some money and a letter to give you," he added.

　　Rostov took the letter and, throwing the money on the sofa, put botharms on the table and began to read. After reading a few lines, heglanced angrily at Berg, then, meeting his eyes, hid his face behindthe letter.

　　"Well, they've sent you a tidy sum," said Berg, eying the heavypurse that sank into the sofa. "As for us, Count, we get along onour pay. I can tell you for myself..."

　　"I say, Berg, my dear fellow," said Rostov, "when you get a letterfrom home and meet one of your own people whom you want to talkeverything over with, and I happen to be there, I'll go at once, to beout of your way! Do go somewhere, anywhere... to the devil!" heexclaimed, and immediately seizing him by the shoulder and lookingamiably into his face, evidently wishing to soften the rudeness of hiswords, he added, "Don't be hurt, my dear fellow; you know I speak frommy heart as to an old acquaintance."

　　"Oh, don't mention it, Count! I quite understand," said Berg,getting up and speaking in a muffled and guttural voice.

　　"Go across to our hosts: they invited you," added Boris.

　　Berg put on the cleanest of coats, without a spot or speck ofdust, stood before a looking glass and brushed the hair on his templesupwards, in the way affected by the Emperor Alexander, and, havingassured himself from the way Rostov looked at it that his coat hadbeen noticed, left the room with a pleasant smile.

　　"Oh dear, what a beast I am!" muttered Rostov, as he read theletter.

　　"Why?"

　　"Oh, what a pig I am, not to have written and to have given themsuch a fright! Oh, what a pig I am!" he repeated, flushing suddenly."Well, have you sent Gabriel for some wine? All right let's havesome!"

　　In the letter from his parents was enclosed a letter ofrecommendation to Bagration which the old countess at AnnaMikhaylovna's advice had obtained through an acquaintance and sentto her son, asking him to take it to its destination and make use ofit.

　　"What nonsense! Much I need it!" said Rostov, throwing the letterunder the table.

　　"Why have you thrown that away?" asked Boris.

　　"It is some letter of recommendation... what the devil do I wantit for!"

　　"Why 'What the devil'?" said Boris, picking it up and reading theaddress. "This letter would be of great use to you."

　　"I want nothing, and I won't be anyone's adjutant."

　　"Why not?" inquired Boris.

　　"It's a lackey's job!"

　　"You are still the same dreamer, I see," remarked Boris, shaking hishead.

　　"And you're still the same diplomatist! But that's not thepoint... Come, how are you?" asked Rostov.

　　"Well, as you see. So far everything's all right, but I confess Ishould much like to be an adjutant and not remain at the front."

　　"Why?"

　　"Because when once a man starts on military service, he should tryto make as successful a career of it as possible."

　　"Oh, that's it!" said Rostov, evidently thinking of something else.

　　He looked intently and inquiringly into his friend's eyes, evidentlytrying in vain to find the answer to some question.

　　Old Gabriel brought in the wine.

　　"Shouldn't we now send for Berg?" asked Boris. "He would drinkwith you. I can't."

　　"Well, send for him... and how do you get on with that German?"asked Rostov, with a contemptuous smile.

　　"He is a very, very nice, honest, and pleasant fellow," answeredBoris.

　　Again Rostov looked intently into Boris' eyes and sighed. Bergreturned, and over the bottle of wine conversation between the threeofficers became animated. The Guardsmen told Rostov of their march andhow they had been made much of in Russia, Poland, and abroad. Theyspoke of the sayings and doings of their commander, the Grand Duke,and told stories of his kindness and irascibility. Berg, as usual,kept silent when the subject did not relate to himself, but inconnection with the stories of the Grand Duke's quick temper herelated with gusto how in Galicia he had managed to deal with theGrand Duke when the latter made a tour of the regiments and wasannoyed at the irregularity of a movement. With a pleasant smileBerg related how the Grand Duke had ridden up to him in a violentpassion, shouting: "Arnauts!" ("Arnauts" was the Tsarevich'sfavorite expression when he was in a rage) and called for thecompany commander.

　　"Would you believe it, Count, I was not at all alarmed, because Iknew I was right. Without boasting, you know, I may say that I knowthe Army Orders by heart and know the Regulations as well as I dothe Lord's Prayer. So, Count, there never is any negligence in mycompany, and so my conscience was at ease. I came forward...." (Bergstood up and showed how he presented himself, with his hand to hiscap, and really it would have been difficult for a face to expressgreater respect and self-complacency than his did.) "Well, hestormed at me, as the saying is, stormed and stormed and stormed! Itwas not a matter of life but rather of death, as the saying is.'Albanians!' and 'devils!' and 'To Siberia!'" said Berg with asagacious smile. "I knew I was in the right so I kept silent; wasnot that best, Count?... 'Hey, are you dumb?' he shouted. Still Iremained silent. And what do you think, Count? The next day it was noteven mentioned in the Orders of the Day. That's what keeping one'shead means. That's the way, Count," said Berg, lighting his pipe andemitting rings of smoke.

　　"Yes, that was fine," said Rostov, smiling.

　　But Boris noticed that he was preparing to make fun of Berg, andskillfully changed the subject. He asked him to tell them how andwhere he got his wound. This pleased Rostov and he began talking aboutit, and as he went on became more and more animated. He told them ofhis Schon Grabern affair, just as those who have taken part in abattle generally do describe it, that is, as they would like it tohave been, as they have heard it described by others, and as soundswell, but not at all as it really was. Rostov was a truthful young manand would on no account have told a deliberate lie. He began his storymeaning to tell everything just as it happened, but imperceptibly,involuntarily, and inevitably he lapsed into falsehood. If he had toldthe truth to his hearers- who like himself had often heard storiesof attacks and had formed a definite idea of what an attack was andwere expecting to hear just such a story- they would either not havebelieved him or, still worse, would have thought that Rostov washimself to blame since what generally happens to the narrators ofcavalry attacks had not happened to him. He could not tell them simplythat everyone went at a trot and that he fell off his horse andsprained his arm and then ran as hard as he could from a Frenchmaninto the wood. Besides, to tell everything as it really happened, itwould have been necessary to make an effort of will to tell onlywhat happened. It is very difficult to tell the truth, and youngpeople are rarely capable of it. His hearers expected a story of howbeside himself and all aflame with excitement, he had flown like astorm at the square, cut his way in, slashed right and left, how hissaber had tasted flesh and he had fallen exhausted, and so on. Andso he told them all that.

　　In the middle of his story, just as he was saying: "You cannotimagine what a strange frenzy one experiences during an attack,"Prince Andrew, whom Boris was expecting, entered the room. PrinceAndrew, who liked to help young men, was flattered by being askedfor his assistance and being well disposed toward Boris, who hadmanaged to please him the day before, he wished to do what the youngman wanted. Having been sent with papers from Kutuzov to theTsarevich, he looked in on Boris, hoping to find him alone. When hecame in and saw an hussar of the line recounting his military exploits(Prince Andrew could not endure that sort of man), he gave Boris apleasant smile, frowned as with half-closed eyes he looked atRostov, bowed slightly and wearily, and sat down languidly on thesofa: he felt it unpleasant to have dropped in on bad company.Rostov flushed up on noticing this, but he did not care, this was amere stranger. Glancing, however, at Boris, he saw that he tooseemed ashamed of the hussar of the line.

　　In spite of Prince Andrew's disagreeable, ironical tone, in spite ofthe contempt with which Rostov, from his fighting army point ofview, regarded all these little adjutants on the staff of whom thenewcomer was evidently one, Rostov felt confused, blushed, andbecame silent. Boris inquired what news there might be on the staff,and what, without indiscretion, one might ask about our plans.

　　"We shall probably advance," replied Bolkonski, evidentlyreluctant to say more in the presence of a stranger.

　　Berg took the opportunity to ask, with great politeness, whether, aswas rumored, the allowance of forage money to captains of companieswould be doubled. To this Prince Andrew answered with a smile thathe could give no opinion on such an important government order, andBerg laughed gaily.

　　"As to your business," Prince Andrew continued, addressing Boris,"we will talk of it later" (and he looked round at Rostov). "Come tome after the review and we will do what is possible."

　　And, having glanced round the room, Prince Andrew turned toRostov, whose state of unconquerable childish embarrassment nowchanging to anger he did not condescend to notice, and said: "Ithink you were talking of the Schon Grabern affair? Were you there?"

　　"I was there," said Rostov angrily, as if intending to insult theaide-de-camp.

　　Bolkonski noticed the hussar's state of mind, and it amused him.With a slightly contemptuous smile, he said: "Yes, there are manystories now told about that affair!"

　　"Yes, stories!" repeated Rostov loudly, looking with eyes suddenlygrown furious, now at Boris, now at Bolkonski. "Yes, many stories! Butour stories are the stories of men who have been under the enemy'sfire! Our stories have some weight, not like the stories of thosefellows on the staff who get rewards without doing anything!"

　　"Of whom you imagine me to be one?" said Prince Andrew, with a quietand particularly amiable smile.

　　A strange feeling of exasperation and yet of respect for thisman's self-possession mingled at that moment in Rostov's soul.

　　"I am not talking about you," he said, "I don't know you and,frankly, I don't want to. I am speaking of the staff in general."

　　"And I will tell you this," Prince Andrew interrupted in a tone ofquiet authority, "you wish to insult me, and I am ready to agreewith you that it would be very easy to do so if you haven't sufficientself-respect, but admit that the time and place are very badly chosen.In a day or two we shall all have to take part in a greater and moreserious duel, and besides, Drubetskoy, who says he is an old friend ofyours, is not at all to blame that my face has the misfortune todisplease you. However," he added rising, "you know my name andwhere to find me, but don't forget that I do not regard eithermyself or you as having been at all insulted, and as a man olderthan you, my advice is to let the matter drop. Well then, on Fridayafter the review I shall expect you, Drubetskoy. Au revoir!" exclaimedPrince Andrew, and with a bow to them both he went out.

　　Only when Prince Andrew was gone did Rostov think of what he oughtto have said. And he was still more angry at having omitted to say it.He ordered his horse at once and, coldly taking leave of Boris, rodehome. Should he go to headquarters next day and challenge thataffected adjutant, or really let the matter drop, was the questionthat worried him all the way. He thought angrily of the pleasure hewould have at seeing the fright of that small and frail but proudman when covered by his pistol, and then he felt with surprise that ofall the men he knew there was none he would so much like to have for afriend as that very adjutant whom he so hated.