Front Cover
 Front Matter
 Half Title
 Title Page
 List of Illustrations
 War and peace
 Part XII
 Part XIII
 Part XIV
 Part XV
 Back Matter
 Back Cover

Group Title: The Complete Works of Count Tolstoy
Title: The complete works of Count Tolstoy
Full Citation
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00094187/00008
 Material Information
Title: The complete works of Count Tolstoy
Uniform Title: Works ( 1904 )
Physical Description: 24 v. : fronts., plates, ports., facsims. ; 24 cm.
Language: English
Creator: Tolstoy, Leo, 1828-1910
Wiener, Leo, 1862-1939 ( ed. and tr )
Publisher: D. Estes & Co.
Place of Publication: Boston
Publication Date: 1904-05
Edition: Limited ed. Translated from the original Russian and edited by Leo Wiener.
Genre: non-fiction   ( marcgt )
festschrift   ( marcgt )
Additional Physical Form: Also issued online.
General Note: Half-title.
General Note: "Édition de luxe, limited to one thousand copies." This set not numbered.
 Record Information
Bibliographic ID: UF00094187
Volume ID: VID00008
Source Institution: University of Florida
Holding Location: University of Florida
Rights Management: All rights reserved by the source institution and holding location.
Resource Identifier: oclc - 02116920
lccn - 04024594


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Table of Contents
    Front Cover
        Front Cover 1
        Front Cover 2
    Front Matter
        Front Matter 1
        Front Matter 2
        Front Matter 3
        Front Matter 4
    Half Title
        Half Title 1
        Half Title 2
    Title Page
        Title Page 1
        Title Page 2
    List of Illustrations
        List of Illustrations 1
        List of Illustrations 2
    War and peace
        Page 1
        Page 2
    Part XII
        Page 3
        Page 4
        Page 5
        Page 6
        Page 7
        Page 8
        Page 9
        Page 10
        Page 11
        Page 12
        Page 13
        Page 14
        Page 15
        Page 16
        Page 16a
        Page 16b
        Page 17
        Page 18
        Page 19
        Page 20
        Page 21
        Page 22
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        Page 24
        Page 25
        Page 26
        Page 27
        Page 28
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        Page 84
        Page 85
        Page 86
        Page 87
        Page 88
        Page 89
        Page 90
    Part XIII
        Page 91
        Page 92
        Page 93
        Page 94
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        Page 96
        Page 97
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        Page 167
        Page 168
    Part XIV
        Page 169
        Page 170
        Page 171
        Page 172
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    Part XV
        Page 247
        Page 248
        Page 249
        Page 250
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    Back Matter
        Page 493
        Page 494
        Page 495
        Page 496
    Back Cover
        Page 497
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Full Text

Chinsegut Hill

i i' "-

University of Florida





\ .-'l L'IE 1\.

Tr,, .iihled Iri.,i Ih: l -)rii.inal Pu .,i.in and Fdifled b,
4 ., i 3:l l,.[ I .O l.' 1: ()1 tI i I -i l i -' ; i M rj .,l- J tI ...r .i .f ,

B 0 S T (- N r- D-N -\ E S T E S I


Limited to One Thousand Copies,

of which this is

No. 4

Copyright, 1904

Entered at Stationers' Hall

Colonial Press: Flectr.r: pcd n.i Trinlic- bv
C. H. Simonds & Co., ....:r..r,. I:, U. -\.




Parts XII., XIII., XIV., and XV.




IN the upper circles of St. Petersburg society there was
just then going on a battle, more acrimonious than ever,
between the parties of RumyAntsev, the French, Marya
Feodorovna, the Tsesar4vich, and others, and, as always,
it was drowned by the trumpeting of the court drones. But
the calm, luxurious St. Petersburg life, busying itself only
with the apparitions and reflections of' life, went on as of
old; and through the tenor of this life one had to make
great efforts in order to recognize the danger and the
serious state the Russian nation was in. There were
the same court ceremonies and balls, the same French
theatre, the same interests of the courts, the same inter-
ests of the service, and the same intrigues. Only in the
very highest circles were efforts made to remind the peo-
ple of the seriousness of the contemporary state of affairs.
They told in a whisper of the entirely different conduct
of the two empresses in these grave circumstances. Em-
press Marya Fe6dorovna, solicitous for the welfare of the
charitable and educational institutions under her patron-
age, had given orders about the transportation of all these
institutions to Kazan, and their belongings had been


packed for a long time. On the contrary, with her char-
acteristic Russian patriotism, Empress Elizav6ta Alek-
sy4evna deigned to reply to the question what it w,:,ulId
be her pleasure to command, that she could give ilo orders
about affairs of State, as that belonged to the emperor ;
but, so far as she was personally concerned, she deigned
to say that she would be the last to leave St. Petersburg.
On August 26th, the very day of the battle of Boro-
din6, Anna Pavlovna gave a soiree, the flower of which
was to be the reading of a letter of the metropolitan,
which he had written on the occasion of sending the
emperor an image of St. Sergius. This epistle was re-
garded as a model of patriotic ecclesiastic eloquence. It
was to be read by Prince Vasili himself, who had a repu-
tation as a good reader. (He had read to the empress.)
This art of reading consisted in rolling off the words in
a loud singsong, between a despairing wail and a tender
murmur, independently of their meaning, so that quite by
chance the wail fell on some words, and the murmur on
others. This reading, like all of Anna PWvlovna's soirees,
had a political significance. At this evening entertain-
ment were to be several important personages, who were
to be put to shame for attending the French theatre
and to be stirred to patriotic fervour. Quite a number of
people had already assembled, but Anna Pavlovna did not
yet see in her parlour all those who were to be there, and
so the reading was delayed, and, instead, she caused the
conversation to become general.
The news of that day in St. Petersburg was the illness
of Countess Bezdkhi. She had suddenly grown ill, had
missed several meetings, of which she was the ornamenii t,
and it was rumoured that she did not receive any ,ou,,
and that, instead of entrusting herself to the fatu,:,i: St.
Petersburg doctors, who generally attended on her, she
had employed an Italian physician, who was curing her
by some new and unusual method.


All knew well that the disease of the charming count-
ess was due to the inconvenience of marrying two men at
once, and that the Italian's cure consisted in removing
this inconvenience, but in the presence of Anna Pivlovna
nobody dared to think of it, and they even pretended not
to know anything about it.
On dit que la pauvre comtesse est tries mal. Le midecin
dit que c'est l'angine pectorale."
L'angine ? Oh, c'est une maladie terrible !"
On dit que les rivaux se sont reconcilijs grace A
l'angine -" The word enginee" was repeated with
great pleasure.
Le vieux comte est touchant & ce qu'on dit. II a
pleurd comme un enfant quand le mddecin lui a dit que
le cas itait dangereux."
Oh, ce serait une perte terrible. C'est une femme
Vous parlez de la pauvre comtesse," said Anna PAv-
lovna, coming up. "J'ai envoy savoir de ses nouvelles.
On m'a dit qu'elle allait un pen mieux. Oh, sans doute,
c'est la plus charmante femme du monde," said Anna
Pivlovna, with a smile at her transport. "Nous appar-
tenons A des camps diferents, mais cela ne m'empeche pas
de l'estimer, comme elle le merite. Elle est bien malheu-
reuse," added Anna Pavlovna.
Imagining that with these words Anna Pavlovna had
slightly raised the curtain of mystery on the countess's
disease, a heedless young man took the liberty of express-
ing his surprise because the best physicians had not been
called in, and the countess allowed herself to be cured by
a charlatan, who might give her injurious remedies.
"Vos informations peuvent 9tre meilleures que les
miennes," Anna Pavlovna suddenly retorted with venom
to the inexperienced young man, mais je sais de bonne
source que ce medecin est un homme trds savant et trds
habile. C'est le medecin intime de la Reine d'Espagne."


Having thus annihilated the young man, Anna Piv-
lovna turned to Bilibin, who, in another circle, was talk-
ing about the Austrians. Having knit his brow, he was
apparently getting ready to unwrinkle it, in order to say
a mot.
Je trouve que c'est charmant," he said about a diplo-
matic paper, which referred to the Austrian flags taken
by Wittgenstein, le heros de Pitropol (as he was called in
St. Petersburg), which had been sent back to Vienna.
How, how is this ?" Anna Pavlovna turned to him,
provoking a silence, so that they might hear his mot,
which she knew already.
Bilibin repeated the identical words of the despatch
composed by him as follows:
L'Empereur renvoie les drapeaux Autrichiens," said
Bilibin, drapeaux amis et igards, qu'il a trouves hors de
la route," finished Bilibin, unwrinkling his brow.
Charmant, charmant!" said Prince Vasili.
C'est la route de Varsovie peut-etre," Prince Ippolit
unexpectedly said, in a loud voice.
All looked back at him, wondering what it was he
meant to say. Prince Ippolit himself gazed about him
in merry surprise. He understood as little as the rest
what the words uttered by him meant. During his dip-
lomatic career he had observed more than once that
words suddenly enunciated in this manner appeared very
clever, and so he at all events said the words that hap-
pened to be at his tongue's end. "Maybe it will come
out all right," he thought, and if not, they will somehow
fix it." Indeed, just as an awkward silence had ensued,
there entered that insufficiently patriotic person, whom
Anna Pavlovna wanted to convert. Smiling, and threat-
ening Ippolit with her fingers, she invited Prince VasIli
to the table and, bringing him two candles and the manu-
script, asked him to begin. All grew silent.
Most August Tsar and Emperor!" Prince Vasili ex-


claimed, in a stern voice. He surveyed the audience, as
though asking if there was any one present who objected
to this; but no one made any reply. "Moscow, the first
capital, the New Jerusalem, receives her Christ," he sud-
denly emphasized the word "her," "just as a mother
embracing her zealous sons, and through the rising mist,
foreseeing the brilliant glory of thy power, sings in ecstasy,
'Hosanna, blessed is He who comes!'" Prince Vasili
pronounced these last words in a tearful voice.
Bilibin carefully examined his nails, and many were
apparently intimidated, as though they asked themselves
what their guilt consisted in. Anna PAvlovna in a whis-
per repeated the coming words, like an old woman saying
the prayer of the communion, "Let the impudent and
bold Goliath -"
Prince Vasfli continued:
Let the impudent and bold Goliath, coming from the
boundaries of France, carry death dealing terrors to
the confines of Russia; the humble faith, this sling of the
Russian David, will at once vanquish the head of his
bloodthirsty pride. This image of St. Sergius, the ancient
champion of our country's weal, is presented to your
Imperial Majesty. I regret that my enfeebled strength
prevents my enjoying the sweet sight of you. I send
ardent prayers to heaven, asking the Almighty to magnify
the race of the just and to fulfil the pious wishes of your
Majesty !"
.. Quelle force Quel style !" were heard the praises
t, the reader and the author.
Animated by this address, Anna PAvlovna's guests for
a I.Jug time talked of the state of the country, and made
all kinds of conjectures about the issue of the battle
which was to be fought in a few days.
** Vous verrez," said Anna Pavlovna, that to-morrow,
on the birthday of the emperor, we shall get some news.
I have a good presentiment."

ANNA PiVLOVNA'S presentiment was realized. On the
following day, during the Te Deum in the palace, on
the occasion of the emperor's birthday, Prince Volkn-nki
was called out from church, and received a sealed letter
from Prince Kutuzov. It was Kutuizov's report, written
on the day of the battle at Tatarinovo. Kutuzov wrote
that the Russians had not retreated one step; that the
French had lost a great many more men than the Rus-
sians; and that he was reporting hurriedly from the field
of battle, having still been unable to collect all the last
data. Consequently it was a victory. And thus imme-
diately, without leaving the church, a thanksgiving was
read to the Creator for His aid and for the victory.
Anna PAvlovna's presentiment was realized, and in the
city there reigned all day a festive mood. Everybody
recognized the victory as complete, and some went so far
as to speak of the captivity of Napoleon himself, of his
dethronement, and of the choice of a new head for France.
Removed from action, and amidst the conditions of
court life, it was very hard for the events to be relctk ted
in all their fulness and strength. Involuntarily general
events group themselves about some special occurrence.
Thus now the chief joy of the courtiers was due, not so:.
much to the fact that we were victorious, as that the
news of this victory reached us exactly on the lay of
the emperor's birthday. It was like a successful surprise.
In Kutuizov's report mention was also made of the Russian
losses, and among them were mentioned Tuchk6v, Bagra-


tilo. Kut:y!sov. Even the sFid part of the event involun-
tarily grouped itwlf, in the St. Petersburg society, about
tle ione incident if Kutiysov's death. All knew him;
the empI:eror l:ovei him; he was young and interesting.
(Ou that day all met with the words:
.. H.ow wonderfully it all happened. During the very
Te DeUn 11. And what a loss !- Kutaysov! Oh, what a
pity !"
S' What did I tell you about Kutdzov ?" Prince Vasili
now said, with the pride of a prophet. "I have always
maintained that he was the only one capable of vanquish-
ing Na poleo:n."
But on the following day no news was received from
the army, and the public became agitated. The courtiers
suffered from the anguish of uncertainty in which the
rminperur was.
Imagine the position of the Tsar!" said the courtiers,
and they no longer extolled, as two days before, but con-
demned. KutLizov. who was the cause of the emperor's
anxiety. Prince Vasili on that day no longer bragged of
his pr.;'tcg4 Kut;tizov, but kept silence whenever any one
mentioned Kutti.,ov's name. Besides, on the evening of
that day everything seemed to combine in order to cast
alarm and anxiety on the inhabitants of St. Petersburg:
there was added a terrible bit of news. Countess Bezlikhi
hid suddenly died from that dreadful disease, which it
was plea-aut to pronounce. Officially, in general society,
all said that Counters Bezuikhi died from a terrible attack
of a nli: .' j'':tior.de, but in intimate circles they told the
details o:f how I- nidecin intime de la Reine d'Espagne"
had pres,:ribed to H4lkne small doses of a certain medi-
cine to prodpucde a certain effect; and how Helne, vexed
because the ,old count suspected her and because her hus-
:and, to whom she had written (that miserable, immoral
Pierre !), had not answered her, suddenly took an immense
dose :f the prescribed medicine and died in agony, before


she could receive any aid. They said that Prince Vasili
and the old count went for the Italian, but that the
Italian showed them such notes from the unfortunate
woman that he was at once released.
The general conversation centred on three sad events:
the uncertainty of the emperor, the loss of Kut6ysov, and
the death of Hl4bne.
On the third day after Kutizov's report, a landed pro-
prietor arrived in St. Petersburg from Moscow, and the
news of the surrender of Moscow at once spread through-
out the city. It was terrible What a dreadful position
for the Tsar! Kutiizov was a traitor, and Prince Vasili,
during the visits de condoldance made him on the occasion
of his daughter's death, said of Kutdzov, whom he had
praised so much before (it was pardonable for him, in his
sorrow, to forget what he had said before), that nothing
else could have been expected from a blind and corrupt
old man. I only wonder how the fate of Russia could
have been entrusted to such a man."
So long as this news was not yet official, it was
possible to doubt it, but on the following day there came
the following report from Rostopchin:
An adjutant of Prince Kutuzov brought me a letter,
in which he asks me for officers of police to lead the
army out on the RyazAn road. He says that he is sorry
to abandon Moscow. Emperor! Kutuizov's act decides
the fate of the capital and of your empire. Russia will
shudder when she hears of the abandonment of the city
where is concentrated the grandeur of Russia, where lies
the dust of your ancestors. I shall follow after the
army. I have taken everything away, and I have only
to weep for the fate of my country."
Having received this communication, the euimperor sent.
by Prince Volk6nski the following rescript to Kutiizov:
"Prince Mikhail Ilari6novich! Since August 29th I
have had no reports from you. In the meantime I have


received, through Yaroslavl, the sad news from the com-
mander-in-chief of Moscow that you have decided to go
away with your army from Moscow. You can yourself
imagine the effect this news had produced upon me, and
your silence only increases my surprise. I send herewith
Adjutant-General Prince Volk6nski to find out from you
the condition of the army and the causes which have led
you to such a sad determination."

NINE days after the evacuation of Moscow, there ar-
rived in St. Petersburg a messenger from Kutuizov with
the official news of the abandonment of Moscow. This
messenger was Michaud, who could not speak Russian,
but quoique stranger, Busse de cceur et d'tme," as he said
of himself.
The emperor at once received him in his cabinet, in
the palace on Stone Island. Michaud, who had never
seen Moscow before the campaign, and who could speak
no Russian, nevertheless was very much disturbed when
he appeared before Notre tris gracieux Souverain" (as
he himself wrote), with the news of the conflagration of
Moscow, don't les flames dclairaient sa route."
Though the source of M. Michaud's chagrin ought to
have been different from the one from which flowed the
sorrow of the Russians, he had such a sad expression
when he was ushered into the emperor's cabinet that the
emperor at once asked him:
M'apportez-vous de tristes nouvelles, colonel ?"
"Bien tristes, Sire," replied Michaud, lowering his eyes
with a sigh, l'abandon de Moseou."
Aurait-on livre mon ancienne capital sans se battle?"
the emperor spoke rapidly, his face being flushed.
Michaud respectfully transmitted Kutuizov's message,
which was that it had been impossible to fight at the
walls of Moscow, and that, since there was the choice of
losing Moscow and the army, or only Moscow, the field-
marshal had been compelled to choose the latter.


The emperor listened in silence, without looking at
SL'ennemi est-il entree en ville ?" he asked.
Oui, Sire, et elle est en cendres a l'heure qu'il est. Je
lai laissde toute en flamess" Michaud said, with deter-
mination; but, looking at the emperor, Michaud was
frightened at what he had done.
The emperor began to breathe heavily and quickly;
his nether jaw quivered, and his beautiful blue eyes
suddenly were veiled with tears.
But this lasted but a minute. The emperor suddenly
frowned, as though rebuking himself for his weakness.
And, raising his head, he turned to Michaud with a firm
Je vois, colonel, par tout ce qui arrive," he said, que
la Providence dxige de grands sacrifices de nous Je suis
prlt a me soumettre a toutes Ses volontes; mais dites-moi,
Michaud, comment avez-vous laisse I'armee, en voyant
ainsi, sans coup firir, abandonner mon ancienne capi-
tale ? N'avez-vous pas aperpu du dicouragement ?"
Noticing the composure of his "tris gracieux Souve-
rain," Michaud calmed down himself, but to the em-
peror's direct and relevant question, which demanded a
direct answer, he had not yet formulated a reply.
"Sire, me permettrez-vous de vous parler franchement
en loyal militaire ?" he said, to gain time.
Colonel, je 'dxige toujours," said the emperor. Ne
me caches rien! Je veux savoir absolument ce qu'il en
"Sire!" said Michaud, with a fine, scarcely percepti-
ble smile, having succeeded in preparing his answer in
the form of a light and respectful jeu de mots. "Sire,
j'ai laisse toute l'armee depuis les chefs jusqu'au dcrnier
soldat, sans exception, dans une crainte epouvantable,
effrayante -"
Comment pa ?" sternly knitting his brow, the em-


peror interrupted him. Mes Busses se laisseront-ils
abattre par le malheur ? Jamais "
This was precisely what Michaud had been waiting
for in order to introduce his play of words.
Sire," he said, with a respectful playfulness of ex-
pression, "ils craignent seulement que Votre Miiji,: i par
bonti de cceur ne se laisse persuader de fire la paix. Ils
brdlent de combattre," spoke the representative of the
Russian nation, "et de prouvcr & Votre Altesse par le
sacrifice de leur vie, combien ils lui sont devouds -"
"Ah !" the emperor said, with composure, and with
a kindly gleam of his eyes, striking Michaud on his
shoulder. Vous me tranquillisez, colonel."
The emperor let his head fall and kept silence for
Eh bien, retournez & l'armde," he said, straightening
himself up to his full stature and turning to Michaud
with a majestic gesture, et dites & nos braves, dites a
tous mes bons sujets partout oi vous passerez, que quand
je n'aurais plus qu'un soldat, je me mettrai, moi-mEme, a
la tte de ma here noblesse, de mes bons paysans, et fusera'
ainsi jusqu'd la derniere resource de mon empire. I!
m'en offre encore plus que mes ennemis ne pensent," said
the emperor, becoming more and more animated. Mfais
si jamais il fut lerit dans les decrets de la Divine Provi-
dence," he said, raising his beautiful, gentle, feeling eyes
to heaven, que ma dynastic dut cesser de regner sur le
trOne de mes ancetres, alors, apres avoir 4puise tous les
moyens qui sont en mon pouvoir, je me laisserai croitre la
barbe jusqu' iei" (the emperor pointed with his hand to
his chest), "et j'irai manger des pommes de terre avec le
dernier de mes paysans plut6t, que de signer la honte de
ma patrie et de ma chere nation, don't je sais apprecier
les sacrifices !"
Having uttered these words in an agitated voice, the
emperor suddenly turned away, as though wishing to


c:n,:eal fromw MIi:haud the tears which had come to his
reye. .and walked t:.- the other end of his cabinet. After
standing tlher t.,r a few moments, he returned to Michaud
with l.-ng ste- p and pressed his arm below the elbow.
Th, hand:,om:. gentle face of the emperor was flushed,
and his eye- burned with the gleam of determination and
C'O.lc.l Micrll,.d, n'oubliez pas ce que je vous dis ici!
F : ,I-,tr: 9,, jr i, ior nous nous le rappellerons avec plaisir
- '.'ol/.'.o. o.., ,oi," said the emperor, touching his
brcat. --" 'os ,: pouvons plus rdgner ensemble. J'ai
iri'1p it3 r I. tuaniit~'e il ne me trompera plus-" And
the e.ii[eror fr.,wncdl and kept silence.
Hi.-u.ing the-s words, and seeing the expression of
t;ru lJeterminatiinij in the emperor's eyes, Michaud, quoi-
q,.: i/.r!a, ,i, e nitS, Russe de ceur et d'&me," felt himself,
at that 5.t'lermn mrnment entousiasm6 par tout ce qu'il
c..,ri t .t, ld.,." ias he himself later said), and he in
the ftl].:11wing; e.p.rssions gave vent to his feelings, as
well as t, the feelings of the Russian nation, of which
he; r.Egard.:-d hirmse] as the representative.
.5','," he said. Votre Majestj signe dans ce moment
il /!oiir': Ji.' ,Ia ".tion et le salut de l'Europe."
T'he ,.mper.or dismissed Michaud with an inclination
7if hi, head.

AT the time when Russia was half-conquered, and the
inhabitants of Moscow fled to distant provinces, and
militia after militia was levied for the defence of the
country, we, who did not live during that ptrii.:d, in-
stinctively imagine that all the Russians, from ?;ar to:
small, were busy sacrificing themselves, saving the c.uu i-
try, or weeping over its ruin. The stories an.l 'dIc rl p-
tions of that time all without exception speak :Lily of
self-sacrifice, love of country, despair, sorrow, and Ie-roisum
on the part of the Russians. In reality it was not so.
It only seems to us to have been so because we see of the
past only its historical interest, and do not see all those
personal, human interests which the people then had.
And yet, in reality, those personal interests of the present
are to such an extent more important than the coLuijon
interests that one never feels (never notices even) the
common interests behind them. The great niajority :fi
men at that time did not pay the least attecuti:ou to:. the
general course of events, but were guided only bI: tlhir
personal interests of the present. And it was th,.-:, men
who were the most useful factors of that time.
Those who tried to understand the common :'ourise
affairs and essayed by self-sacrifice and heroism o c tike
part in it, were the most useless members of ;s::ety ; they
saw everything topsyturvy, and everything they 'liil
turned out to be useless and insipid, like the nregimelts 'of
Pierre and of Mam6nov, which pillaged Russian villages,


like the lint picked by young ladies, which never reached
tLhe wundel, and u'j forth. Even those who were fond of
philol:s;phizing and .expressing their sentiments, and dis-
co.urr-ed of the .contemporary state of Russia, bore, in their
pq'-oches, the impjriut either of dissimulation and false-
ho:lI, or :f uisele~ animosity and condemnation of men
who,: were ac:.cueed of what no one could possibly be guilty
of. I no thing i- the prohibition of eating the fruit of the
treit: of k-nu:wlt:edl.e soJ manifest as in historic events. Only
unconscious activity bears fruit, and a man who plays
any part in a historical event never comprehends its sig-
nificance. If he attempts to grasp it, he is struck with
The significance of what was then taking place in
Russia was the less observable the closer the relations
men had with the event. In St. Petersburg and in the
Governments which were remote from Moscow, ladies and
men in the uniforms of the militia lamented Russia and
the capital, and talked of self-sacrifice, and so forth; but
in the army, which retreated beyond Moscow, they hardly
.spoke or thought of Moscow, and, looking at its conflagra-
tion, no one swore to wreak vengeance on the French;
they thought only of the next four months' pay, of the
next resting-place, of Matreshka, the canteen-woman, and
the like.
Nikolay Rost6v, without any set purpose of self-sacri-
fice, but accidentally, because the war had overtaken him
while in service, was taking an intimate and continued
interest in the defence of his country, and so looked with-
out despair or gloomy conclusions at what was then taking
place in Russia. If he had been asked what he thought
of the condition of Russia, he would have answered that
he had no time to think; that for this purpose there were
Kutizov and others; that he had heard that the regi-
ments were being filled; that, no doubt, they would be
fighting for a long time yet; and that in the present cir-


cumstances he would not be surprised if he reCoiiv'ed a
regiment within two years.
For the very reason that he thus looked upon mat:erc,
he not only felt no regret at being deprived of the chance
of taking part in the latest battle, when he received the
news of his appointment to a mission to Vor6nezh to
provide remounts for his division, but even experienced
pleasure, which he did not conceal, and which his com-
rades understood quite well.
A few days previous to the battle of Borodin6, Nikolay
received the necessary money and the papers, and, sending
some hussars ahead of him, travelled post to Vor6nezh.
Only he who has experienced it, that is, who has passed
several months without interruption in the atmosphere of
a military, war life, can appreciate the joy which Nikolay
experienced when he got beyond the region to which the
troops reached with their foragings, transports of supplies,
and hospitals; when, without soldiers, wagons, or dirty
traces of the presence of a camp, he saw villages with
peasants, manors, fields with herding cattle, post-stations
with sleeping inspectors, he felt a joy as though he saw all
for the first time. What most surprised and pleased him
was the young healthy women, none of whom were courted
by dozens of officers, and women who were glad and flat-
tered to have the transient officer jest with them.
In the happiest frame of mind, NikolAy arrived in the
night at the hotel in Vor6nezh, where he ordered the
things which he had missed for a long time in the army,
and on the following day, having shaved himself clean
and put on his long unworn parade uniform, we;nt t-.- pre-
sent himself to the authorities.
The chief of the militia was a general in civill S-ervic,.
an old man, who evidently took pleasure in hib uiilht.iry
calling and rank. He received Nikolay in a SUrly uanuuer
(supposing that this was the proper way for a military
man), and questioned him with an air of importance, as


though he had a right to do so, and as though he, approv-
ing here and disapproving there, passed judgment on the
general course of affairs.
From the chief of the militia he drove to the governor.
The governor was a small, lively man, very kindly and
simple. He indicated to Nikoliy the studs where he
could get horses, recommended to him a horse-dealer in
the city and a landed proprietor twenty versts away, who
had the best mounts, and promised him every cooperation.
Are you the son of Count Ilya Andreevich ? My wife
used to be great friends with your mother. We have
Thursday at home; to-day is Thursday,-- and I ask you
kindly to call," said the governor, dismissing him.
From the governor Nikolay hired a cart and, taking the
sergeant-major with him, drove twenty versts to the stud
of the landed proprietor. Everything, during this first
part of his stay in Vor6nezh, was light and cheerful for
Nikolay, and everything, as generally is the case when a
man is in a good humour, went well with him.
The landed proprietor, to whom Nikoldy drove, was an
old bachelor, a former cavalryman, who was a connoisseur
in horse-flesh, a hunter, the possessor of a rug-room, of a
hundred-year-old mulled brandy, of old Hungarian wine,
and of superb horses.
After two words Nikolay bought of him for six thou-
sand roubles seventeen stallions, to match with the show
end of his remounts, as he said. Having dined and im-
bibed a little too much Hungarian wine, Rost6v, after
kissing the proprietor, with whom he had been talking
"thou," drove back, in the merriest of moods, over a hor-
rible road, constantly urging on the driver, in order to be
in time for the governor's soir4e.
He changed his clothes, perfumed himself, soaked his
head in cold water, and, though a little late, made his ap-
pearance at the governor's with the ready phrase, Vaut
mieux tard que jamais "


It was not a ball, and nothing had been said about
dancing; but all knew that Katerina Petr6vna would be
playing waltzes and 4cossaises on the clavichord, and that
they would dance, and so all, counting on this, arrived
dressed in ball fashion.
Provincial life in 1812 was precisely such as it had al-
ways been, with this difference only, that things were
livelier than usual on account of the presence of many
wealthy families from Moscow, and that, as in everything
which at that time was taking place in Russia, there could
be observed a certain don't give a snap recklessness, as
also that the small talk, which is a necessity for men, and
which formerly turned on the weather and on common
acquaintances, now ran on Moscow, on the army, and on
The society which was gathered at the governor's was
the best Vor6nezh had.
There were very many ladies, several of them Niko-
lay's Moscow acquaintances; but of men there was none
who could in any way rival the chevalier of St. George,
the remounting hussar, and, at the same time, the good-
natured and well-mannered Count Rost6v. Among the
men was one captive Italian, an officer of the French
army, and Nikoliy felt that the presence of this prisoner
only enhanced his importance as a Russian hero. He
was something like a trophy. Nikolay felt this, and it
seemed to him that all looked in the same manner at the
Italian, and NikolLy was kind to him, with dignity and
The moment Nikolly entered with his hussar figure,
spreading about him the odour of perfume and wine, and
himself said and heard several times repeated the words,
" Vaut mieux tard que jamais he was surrounded. All
eyes were directed upon him, and he felt at once that he
entered into the position of a general favourite, appropri-
ate enough for him in the province and always agreeable,


but now, after the long deprivation, intoxicating him with
pleasure. Not only at the stations, and inns, and in the
rug-room of the landed proprietor had he received the flat-
tering attention of the maids; but here, at the soirde of
the governor, there was (as it appeared to Nikolay) an
inexhaustible quantity of very young ladies and pretty
maidens, who were impatiently waiting for Nikoldy to
turn his attention to them. The ladies and maidens co-
quetted with him, and the older people were planning
from the first day to get him married, so as to settle this
rogue of a hussar. Among these latter was the governor's
wife herself, who received Rost6v as a near relative and
called him Nicolas and thou."
Katerina Petr6vna, indeed, began to play waltzes and
6cossaises, and they danced, when Nikol6y still more
charmed the provincial society by his agility. He sur-
prised all with his peculiarly easy manner in dancing.
Nikolay himself was somewhat surprised at his ease in
dancing on that evening. He had never danced so in
Moscow and would even have regarded such carelessness
in dancing as indecent and mauvais genre; but here he
felt the necessity of startling them by something unusual,
by something which they might regard as peculiar to the
capital, but still unknown in the province.
During the whole evening Nikolay paid the greatest
attention to a blue-eyed, plump, sweet-faced blonde, the
wife of one of the Government officials. With that naive
conviction of sportive young ihen, that other people's
wives were made for them, Rost6v did not leave the side
of that lady, and treated her husband in a friendly and
somewhat plotting manner, as if they knew, though they
did not say it, that they, that is, Nikolay and this man's
wife, would meet on intimate terms. The husband, how-
ever, did not seem to share Rost6v's conviction and tried
to treat him sternly; but Nikoldy's good-natured naivete
was so boundless, that now and then the husband involun-


tarily submitted to Nikol6y's merry mood. But toward
evening, in measure as the wife's face grew more flushed
and animated, the husband's face grew sadder and more
solemn, as though her animation was enough for two, so
that his diminished as hers increased.

NIKOLAY, with an unchanging smile on his countenance,
slightly bending over in his chair, leaned close to the
blonde and paid her mythological compliments.
Rapidly changing the position of his legs in his tightly
fitting riding-pantaloons, spreading about him the odour
of perfume, and admiring his lady and himself and the
beautiful form of his legs under his closely fitting boot-
legs, Nikolay told the blonde that he wanted to steal a
lady in Voronezh.
"What lady?"
"A charming, divine lady. Her eyes" (Nikolly
looked at his interlocutrice) are blue, her teeth corals in
whiteness," he looked at her shoulders, "her figure that
of Diana "
Her husband came up to them and gloomily asked his
wife what they were talking about.
Ah, Nikita IvLnovich," said NikolLy, rising politely.
And, as though wishing that Nikita Iv6novich should take
part in his jokes, he began to communicate to him also
his intention of stealing a blonde lady.
The husband smiled grimly, his wife merrily. The
good wife of the governor went up to them with a dis-
approving glance.
"Anna Igndtevna wants to see you, Nicolas," she said,
pronouncing "Anna Ignatevna" in such a tone that
Rost6v at once understood that she must be an impor-
tant personage. "Come, Nicolas! You don't mind my
calling you that ?"


"No, ma tante. Who is it ? "
"Anna Igndtevna Malvintsev. She has heard of you
from her niece whom you have saved. Do you guess ?"
"Well, I have saved such a lot of them !" said Ni-
"Her niece, Princess Bolk6nski. She is here in Vo-
r6nezh with her aunt. Oh, how you blush Well, how
is it?"
Not at all, ma tante."
"All right, all right! How queer you are !"
The governor's wife led him up to a tall and very stout
old woman in a blue toque, who had just finished her
game of cards with the most distinguished people of the
city. This was Madame Malvintsev, the aunt of Princess
Marya by her mother, a rich childless widow, who had
always lived at Vor6nezh. She was standing and squar-
ing up her card account, when Rost6v came up to her.
She blinked sternly and cast a glance at him, and con-
tinued to scold the general who had won the game from
Am very glad, my dear," she said, extending her hand
to him. Please to call !"
Having said a few words about Princess Marya and her
deceased father, whom she evidently did not like, and
asked him what he knew of Prince Andrey, who appar-
ently was not much more in her favour, the dignified old
woman dismissed him, repeating her invitation to call on
Leaving Madame Malvintsev, Rost6v wanted to return
to the dances, but the little wife of the governor put her
chubby little hand on Nikoliy's sleeve and, saying that
she wanted to speak to him, led him to the sofa-room,
which those who happened to be there left in order not
to incommode her.
"Do you know, mon cher," said the governor's wife,
with a serious expression on her small, kindly face, she


is just the match for you. If you want me to, I will
make the match for you."
Who, ma tante ?" asked Nikolay.
"The princess. Katerina Petr6vna says that it is Lili,
but I say, no, it is the princess. Do you want me to ?
I am sure your mother will be grateful to me. Really,
she is a fine girl And she is by no means so homely !"
By no means," NikolMy said, as though offended. "I,
ma tante, as is proper for a soldier, intrude nowhere and
refuse nothing," said Rost6v, before thinking what it was
he had said.
So remember: it is no joke!"
"What joke?"
"Yes, yes," said the wife of the governor, as though
speaking to herself. Listen, mon eher, entire autres.
Vous Wtes trop assidu aupres de l'autre, la blonde. The
husband is truly pitiful-"
Oh, no, we are friends," Nikolay said, in the simplicity
of his heart: it did not even occur to him that such a
jolly pastime for him could be the opposite of jolly to
any one else.
What a stupid thing I have told the governor's
wife !" Nikolay suddenly thought at supper. She
will begin to make that match at once, and Sonya ?"
When he was bidding the governor's wife good-bye, and
she, smiling once more, said to him, "Well, so remem-
ber !" he took her to one side:
"Really, ma tante, to tell you the truth "
"What, what, my friend? Come, let us sit down
there !" /
Nikolay suddenly felt the desire and need of telling
his intimate thoughts (such as he would not have told
his mother, sister, friend) to this almost strange woman.
When later he thought of this outburst of entirely unpro-
voked, inexplicable confession, which had very important
consequences for him, it seemed to him (and it so seems


to all people) as though a stupid fellow had stumbled on
a rhyme; and yet, this outburst of sincerity, together
with other minor events, had for him, and for his who',
family, enormous consequences.
"It is like this, ma tante. Maman has long beeu
wishing to get me married to a rich girl; but this thought
of marrying for money's sake is repulsive to me."
Oh, yes, I understand," said the governor's wife.
"But Princess Bolk6uski is a different matter; in the
first place, I will tell you the truth. I like her very
much; she just suits me, and then, ever since I met her
in those circumstances, she has been strangely on my
mind: it is fate. Mamma, in particular, has long been
thinking of this, but I somehow never met her before.
During the time that my sister Natisha was the fiancee
of her brother, I naturally could not think of marrying
her. It seems to be my fate to meet her when Natisha's
marriage is not to come off, and then Really, I have
never told this to any one, and I never will. Only to
The governor's wife gratefully pressed his elbow.
You know S6nya, my cousin ? I love her, and I have
promised to marry her, and I will So you see that
she is out of the question," Nikoliy said, in embarrass-
ment, and bltshing.
"Man cher; mon cher, how you judge S6nya has not a
thing, and you said yourself that your father's affairs are
in a bad shape. And your mamma? It will kill her.
Then, if S6nya is a girl with a heart, what kind of a life
will it be for her? Your mother is in despair, your
affairs are in a bad shape No, mon cher, you and
S6nya must understand this."
Nikoldy was silent. It pleased him to hear these
Still, ma tante, this cannot be," he said, with a sigh,
after a moment's silence. Besides, will the princess


care for me enough to marry me ? And then again, she
is now in mourning. How can we think of it now ?"
Do you suppose I am going to get you married at
once ? II y a maniere et maniere," said she.
What a matchmaker you are, ma tante," said Nikolhy,
kissing her chubby hand.

UPON arriving in Moscow, after her meeting with
Rost6v, Princess M&rya had found there her nephew with
his tutor, and a letter from Prince Andrdy, who had laid
out for them their route to Vor6nezh, to Aunt Mal-
vintsev. The cares of the journey, the anxiety about her
brother, the arrangement of life in the new house, the new
faces, the education of her nephew, all this had ap-
parently drowned in Princess Marya's soul that feeling
of temptation which had tormented her during the illness
and after the demise of her father, and especially after
her meeting with Rost6v. She was sad. The impression
caused by the loss of her father, united in her mind with
the ruin of Russia, now, after a month passed under con-
ditions of peaceful life, weighed ever more strongly upon
her. She was agitated: the thought of the perils to
which her brother, who was the only near relative left
to her, was subjected tormented her all the time. She
was burdened with the education of her nephew, for which
she constantly felt herself incapacitated ; but in the depth
of her soul there was peace with herself, and this flowed
from the consciousness of having suppressed in herself
every vestige of the personal dreams and hopes which
were connected with the appearance of Rost6v.
When, on the next day after her soir6e, the governor's
wife went to see Madame Malvintsev, with whom she
conversed about her plans (with the reserve that, although
under present conditions there could be no question of a


formal suit, the young people might be brought together,
so as to give them a chance to get acquainted); and when,
having received the aunt's encouragement, the governor's
wife mentioned Rost6v's name in the hearing of Princess
Marya, praising him and saying how he had blushed at
the mention of the princess, Princess Marya experienced
not a joyous, but a painful sensation: her inner peace no
longer existed, and again there rose desires, doubts, re-
bukes, and hopes.
In the two days which passed between this announce-
ment and Rost6v's call, Princess Marya kept thinking all
the time how she ought to act toward him. Now she
decided that she would not come out into the drawing-
room when he came to call on her aunt; now she thought
that that would be rude after what he had done for her;
now it occurred to her that her aunt and the governor's
wife had some intentions in regard to Rost6v and her
(their glances and words seemed to confirm this supposi-
tion); now she thought that only she, with her corrupt
mind, could think thus of them: they certainly could not
have forgotten that in her position, when she had not yet
taken off her mourning, such a suit would be insulting to
her and to the memory of her father. Assuming that she
would come out to see him, Princess Mgrya considered
the words she would employ toward him, and which he
would say to her, and these words now seemed to her to
be undeservedly cold, and now to have too much signifi-
cance. Most of all, she was afraid of that embarrassment
which, she knew, would take possession of her and betray
her the moment she saw him.
But when, on Sunday, after mass, the lackey announced
in the drawing-room that Count Rost6v had arrived, the
princess showed no confusion; only a faint blush appeared
on her cheeks, and her eyes sparkled with a new, beaming
Have you seen him, aunty ?" Princess Marya said, in


a calm voice, herself wondering how it was she could be
outwardly so calm and natural.
When Rost6v entered the room, the princess for a mo-
ment lowered her head, as though to give the guest a
chance to exchange greetings with her aunt, and then, just
as Nikoldy turned to her, she raised it and met his glance
with her beaming eyes. With a motion full of dignity
and grace, she rose with a joyous smile, extended to him
her thin, tender hand, and spoke in a voice in which for
the first time sounded new, feminine, chest tones. Made-
moiselle Bourienne, who was in the drawing-room, looked
at Princess Marya in amazement. Herself a most skilful
coquette, she could not have manoeuvred better at the
meeting with a man whom it was necessary to please.
Either black is so becoming to her, or she has really
grown prettier, and I have not noticed it. But, above all,
that tact and grace thought Mademoiselle Bourienne.
If Princess Mdrya had been able to think at that mo-
ment, she would have been more surprised than Made-
moiselle Bourienne at the change which had taken place
in her. From the moment she saw that dear, beloved
face, a new power of life seemed to possess her and com-
pelled her, against her will, to speak and act. Her face, from
the moment Rost6v entered, was suddenly transformed.
Just as the complicated, skilful, artistic work which at
first had appeared coarse, dark, and senseless suddenly
appears with unexpected and striking beauty on the walls
of a painted and chiselled lamp, when the candle within
is lighted, so was the face of Princess MIrya suddenly
transformed. All that pure, spiritual, inner work, to
which she had devoted herself all her life, now for the
first time came to the surface. All her inward, self-abasing
labour, her suffering, her striving after good, her humility,
love, self-renunciation, all this now sparkled in those
beaming eyes, in that gentle smile, in every feature of
her tender face.


Rost6v saw all this as clearly as though he knew her
whole life. He felt that the being before him was some-
thing quite different, far better than all those whom he
had met heretofore, and, above all, better than he himself.
The conversation was quite simple and insignificant.
They talked of the war, involuntarily, like every one else,
exaggerating their grief in respect to this event; they
spoke of their last meeting, whereat Nikol6y endeavoured
to turn the conversation to another subject; they talked
of the kindly wife of the governor, of Nikol6y's relatives,
and of those of Princess Marya.
Princess Marya did not talk of her brother and tried to
change the subject when her aunt mentioned Andr6y.
Evidently she could speak feignedly about the misfortunes
of Russia, but her brother was a subject which was too
near to her heart, and she did not wish to speak lightly
of him, and could not. Nikol6y noticed that, just as he
with unusual penetration observed all the shades of Prin-
cess Mdrya's character, all of which confirmed his convic-
tion that she was an entirely different and extraordinary
being. NikolLy, just like Princess Marya, used to blush
and become embarrassed when the princess had been
mentioned to him and even when he had thought of her,
but in her presence he was quite at his ease and spoke
not what he had prepared, but what momentarily and
appropriately occurred to him.
During Nikoldy's short visit, he, during a pause, as is
always done when children are present, had recourse to
Prince Andr6y's little son, whom he caressed and asked
whether he wanted to be a hussar. He took the boy in
his arms, began merrily to whirl him around, and looked
back at Princess Mirya. Her tender, happy, and timid
glance watched her beloved boy in the arms of the man
she loved. Nikoldy noticed this glance and, as though
understanding its meaning, blushed for pleasure and be-
gan good-naturedly and merrily to kiss the boy.


Princess Marya did not go out in society on account of
her mourning, and NikolAy did not regard it as proper to
call on her; but the governor's wife still continued her
work of the match-making. She informed Rostdv of the
flattering remarks Princess Marya had made about him,
and vice versa, and insisted that Rost6v should make his
declaration to Princess Mdrya. For this purpose she
arranged a meeting for the young people at the bishop's
after mass.
Although Rost6v told the governor's wife that he would
have no explanation with-Princess Mirya, he none the less
promised he would be there.
Just as in Tilsit Rost6v had not permitted himself to
doubt in the good of that which had been acknowledged
to be good by all, so now, after a short but sincere strug-
gle between the attempt to arrange his life according to
his reason and the humble submission to circumstances,
he chose the latter and entrusted himself to the power
which, he felt, was invincibly drawing him on. He knew
that, after his promise to S6nya, it would be what he
called baseness to express his feelings to Princess Marya.
And he knew that he would never commit a base act.
At the same time he knew (he did not know it, but felt
it in the depth of his heart) that, surrendering himself to
the force of circumstances and to the people who guided
him, he not only would not do anything bad, but, on the
contrary, would perform something very, very important,
something more important than anything else he had done
in his life.
After his meeting with Princess Mdrya, his manner of
life outwardly remained the same, but all his former
pleasures lost their charm for him, and he frequently
thought of Princess Marya; but he never thought of her
as he thought, without exception, of all the young ladies
whom he met in society, and not as he for a long time
had once thought ecstatically of S6uya. Of all the young


ladies he, like almost any honourable young man, thought
as of a possible future wife; he applied to them, in his
imagination, all the conditions of marital life,-white
capote, wife at the samovar, wife's carriage, children,
mamma and papa, their relations to her, and so forth, and
so forth, and these pictures of the future afforded him
pleasure; but when he thought of Princess Mdrya, whom
they wanted him to marry, he was never able to represent
to himself anything from his future marital state. Even
though he tried to do so, it all turned out awkward and
confused. He only felt nauseated.

THE terrible news of the battle of Borodin6, of our
losses in killed and wounded, and the still more terrible
news of the loss of Moscow were received in Vor6nezh in
the middle of September. Having learned from the
gazettes about the wound of her brother, and having no
definite information about him, Princess MA rya was get-
ting ready to go to find him. So Nikolay heard, for he
had not seen her.
When Rost6v received the news of the battle of Boro-
din6 and of the abandonment of Moscow, he did not
exactly experience despair, animosity, or revenge, and
similar feelings, but he was possessed by tedium and an-
noyance in Vor6nezh, and somehow felt ashamed and ill
at ease. All the conversations he heard seemed feigned
to him; he did not know how to take it all, and he felt
that only in the regiment would everything become clear
to him again. He hastened to make his last purchases of
horses, and frequently unjustly flew up at his servant and
A few days before Rost6v's departure, a Te Deum was
to be celebrated in the cathedral on the occasion of a
victory obtained by the Russian troops, and NikolMy went
to the mass. He stood a short distance behind the gov-
ernor, and, reflecting on the greatest variety of subjects,
stood with official decorum through the whole service.
When the Te Deum was over, the governor's wife called
him up to her.
"Have you seen the princess?" she said, indicating


with her head a lady in black, who was standing behind
the choir.
NikolMy immediately recognized Princess Marya, not
so much from her profile, which could be seen under-
neath her hat, as by that sensation of caution, fear, and
pity, which at once took possession of him. Princess
Marya, apparently absorbed in her thoughts, was making
the last signs of the cross, before leaving church.
Nikolay looked at her face in surprise. It was the
same he had seen before; there was still in it that general
expression of a delicate, inward, spiritual labour; but now
it was quite differently illuminated. There was on it a
touching expression of grief, entreaty, and hope. As had
happened before to Nikolay in her presence, he, without
waiting for the advice of the governor's wife to approach
her, and without asking himself whether his addressing
her here in church would be proper or not, walked over
to her and told her that he had heard of her sorrow, and
that he sympathized with her with all his heart. No
sooner did she hear his voice than suddenly a bright light
illuminated her countenance, accentuating at the same
time her sorrow and her joy.
I wanted to tell you, princess," said Rost6v, that if
Prince Andr6y Nikoldevich were not alive, the fact, he
being a commander of a regiment, would have been at
once announced in the gazettes."
The princess looked at him without understanding his
words, but rejoicing at the expression of sympathetic suf-
fering which was on his face.
"And I know from so many examples that a wound
from a splinter" (the gazette said from a grenade) "is
either immediately mortal, or, on the other hand, exceed-
ingly light," said Nikolay. You must hope for the best,
and I am sure "
Princess Marya interrupted him.
Oh, that would be so terr- she began, and, as her


agitation prevented her from finishing, she cast a graceful
glance at him, and with a graceful motion of her head (as
was everything she did in his presence) followed her aunt
On that evening Nikol6y did not make any calls, but
remained at home in order to settle certain accounts with
the horse-dealers. When he got through, it was too late
to go anywhere, but still too early to lie down, and so he
for a long time paced the room all alone, reflecting on his
life, which he rarely did.
Princess Marya had produced a pleasant impression
upon him near Smoln6sk. The fact that he had met her
under such peculiar circumstances, and that his mother
at one time had pointed to her as a rich match, had
caused him to direct his especial attention to her. In
Vor6nezh, the impression he received during his visit to
her had been not only agreeable, but even powerful.
NikolMy had been struck by that peculiar, moral beauty
which he at that time had observed in her. And still he
was getting ready to leave, and it did not occur to him to
regret that, in leaving Vor6nezh, he would be deprived of
the opportunity of seeing the princess. But the meeting
with Princess Marya in church, Nikolay felt, had taken
deeper root in his heart than he had foreseen, and deeper
than he wished for his peace. That pale, tender, sorrow-
ful face, that beaming glance, those soft, graceful move-
ments, and, above all, that profound and gentle grief,
which was expressed in all her features, agitated him and
demanded his sympathy. In men Rost6v could not bear
seeing the expression of a higher, spiritual life (for this
reason he did not like Prince Andrdy), he contemptu-
ously called it philosophy, dreaminess; but in Princess
Marya he felt an irresistible charm in this very grief,
which revealed to him the whole depth of that to him
foreign spiritual world.
"She must be a fine girl! Truly an angel! he said to


himself. "Why am I not free? Why was I in such a
hurry with S6nya ?" And involuntarily there presented
itself to him a comparison: the poverty in one and the
wealth in the other of those spiritual gifts, which Nikol6y
did not possess, and which therefore he esteemed so highly.
He essayed to represent to hi niulf what would have been
if he had been free, how he would have proposed to her,
and she would have become his wife! No, he could not
imagine it. He felt a nausea, and no clear images rose
before him. With Sonya he had long ago formed a pic-
ture of the future, and it was all simple and clear, even
because it was all based on reasoning, and he knew every-
thing there was in S6nya; but he could not associate his
future life with Princess Marya, because he did not under-
stand her, but only loved her.
His reveries about S6nya had a cheery, playful aspect;
while it was always hard and a little terrible to think of
Princess Marya.
"How she prayed!" he happened to recall. "It was
evident that her whole soul was in the prayer : it is that
kind of prayer which moves mountains, and I am sure
her prayer will be heard. Why do I not pray for what I
need ?" he thought. What do I need ? Freedom, rup-
ture with S6nya. She told the truth," he recalled the
words of the governor's wife. "There will be nothing but
misfortune if I marry her. A tangle, mamma's grief-
affairs a tangle, a terrible tangle Really, I do not love
her. I do not love her as I ought to. 0 God! Lead me
out of this terrible, hopeless condition!" he suddenly
began to pray. "Yes, a prayer will move a mountain,
but one must believe and pray differently from the way
Natfsha and I used to pray when we were children, ask-
ing snow to be changed into sugar, and running out into
the yard to see whether this had actually happened. No,
I am now not praying for trifles," he said, placing his pipe
in the corner, folding his hands, and standing up before the


images. Touched by his memory of Princess MArya, he
began to pray as he had not prayed for a long time.
Tears were in his eyes and a lump in his throat, when
Lavrrishka entered the room with some kind of papers.
Stupid! What are you doing here, when nobody
wants you ?" said Nik:,lcy, rapidly changing his position.
"From the governor," Lavrishka said, in a sleepy
voice. A courier has come with a letter for you."
All right, thank you. Now go "
Nikolay took the letter. It was from his mother;
another was from S6nya. He recognized them by their
handwriting. He had read but a few lines when his
face grew pale, and his eyes dilated with fear and joy.
No, it is impossible !" he said aloud. Unable to sit
in one place, he began to pace the room with the letter in
his hand, reading it. He ran the letter through, then
read it, once, a second time, and, raising his shoulders
and swinging his arms, stopped in the middle of the room
with open mouth and motionless eyes. What he had just
been praying about, with the assurance that God would
fulfil his prayer, was now realized; but Nikoldy was sur-
prised at this, as though it were something unusual, and
as though he had never expected it, and as though his
prayer having been fulfilled so soon proved that its
fulfilment did not originate with God whom he had
supplicated, but arose from a common accident.
That apparently inextricable knot, which had fettered
Rost6v's freedom, was solved by this (as Nikolay thought)
unexpected, unprovoked letter from S6nya. She wrote
that the late unfortunate circumstances, the loss of nearly
the entire property of the Rost6vs in Moscow, and the
more than once expressed wishes of the countess that
Nikolay might marry Princess Bolk6nski, and the silence
and coldness shown by him of late, all this taken
together compelled her to free him from his promises and
to give him full liberty of action.


It has caused me too much pain to think that I could
be the cause of grief and discord in the family which has
showered its benefactions on me," she wrote, "and my
love has for its only aim the happiness of those whom
I love; and so I implore you, Nicolas, to consider yourself
free and to know that, in spite of everything, no one can
love you more strongly than your S6nya."
Both letters were from Tr6itsa. The other letter was
from the countess. Here were described the last days in
Moscow, their departure, the fire and the ruin of all their
property. Among other things, the countess wrote that
Prince Andrey was travelling with them among the other
wounded. His condition was very critical, but now the
doctor said that there was more hope. She also wrote
that S6nya and Natasha tended upon him like nurses.
With this letter Nikoldy on the following morning
went to see Princess Marya. Neither Nikol6y nor Prin-
cess Marya said a word about the meaning of the words,
"Nat6sha tends upon him;" but, thanks to this letter,
Nikolay suddenly entered into close, almost family
On the next day Rost6v saw Princess Marya off for
Yarosldv, and in a few days himself left for the army.


S6NYA's letter to Nikoldy, which was the realization of
his prayer, had been written at Tr6itsa. What had pro-
voked it was this: The thought of Nikol6y's marrying a
rich girl more and more took possession of the old countess.
She knew that S6nya was the chief impediment to this,
and so S6nya's life in the house of the countess had of
late become harder and harder, especially since the receipt
of NikolAy's letter in which he described his meeting with
Princess Mirya in Boguchdrovo. The countess did not
let pass a single occasion for an offensive or cruel hint to
A few days before their departure from Moscow, the
countess, unnerved and agitated by what was taking place,
called S6nya to her and, instead of rebuking her or
making demands on her, implored her to repay all that
had been done for her by sacrificing herself and breaking
with Nikoliy.
I shall not be calm until you promise me to do so."
S6nya wept hysterically and replied, through her sobs,
that she would do everything and that she was ready
for anything, but gave no direct promise. In her inner-
most soul she could not make up her mind to comply
with the request. It was necessary to sacrifice herself
for the happiness of the family which had brought her up
and educated her. To sacrifice herself for the happiness
of others was S6nya's habit. Her position in the house
was such that only on the road of sacrifice could she
prove her worth, and she was used to and fond of self-


sacrifice. But, heretofore, in all her acts of self-sacrifice,
she had been joyfully conscious of enhancing, by such
acts, her own worth in her own eyes and in those of
others, and of becoming worthier of Nikol6y, whom she
loved more than any one in the world; but now her sac-
rifice was to consist in renouncing what for her constituted
the whole reward of the sacrifice, the whole meaning of
life. And so she for the first time in her life was embit-
tered toward those people who had been kind to her in
order to torment her the more painfully; and she grew
envious of Natasha, who had never experienced anything
like it, who never had to make any sacrifices, and who
caused others to sacrifice themselves for her, and yet was
loved by all. And for the first time Sonya felt that from
her quiet love for Nikolay there suddenly grew out a
passion, which stood above rules and virtue and religion;
and, under the influence of this feeling, S6nya, involun-
tarily taught secretiveness by her life of dependence,
answered the countess in general, indefinite terms, avoided
conversations with her, and decided to wait for a meeting
with Nikolay, in order not to free him, but, on the
contrary, for ever to bind him in that meeting.
The cares and horrors of the last days passed by the
Rost6vs in Moscow drowned in S6nya the gloomy thoughts
that weighed upon her. She was glad to find salvation
from them in practical activity. But when she discovered
the presence of Prince Andr6y in their house, a joyous
and superstitious feeling that God did not want her to be
separated from Nikolay took possession of her, despite all
the sincere pity which she felt both for him and for Na-
tdsha. She knew that Natisha had loved no one but
Prince Andr6y, and that she still was in love with him.
She knew that, brought together under such terrible cir-
cumstances, they would again love one another, and that
then Nikolay, on account of his blood-relationship to them,
would not be able to marry Princess Marya. In spite of


all the terror of what had taken place in the last few
days and during the first days of their journey, this feel-
ing, this consciousness of the interference of Providence
in her personal affairs, gave S6nya pleasure.
At the Tr6itsa Convent the Rost6vs made their first halt
in their journey.
Three large rooms were reserved for the Rost6vs in the
hostelry of the convent, and one of these was occupied by
Prince Andrdy. The wounded man felt much easier on
that day. Nat6sha was with him. In the adjoining room
sat the count and the countess, respectfully conversing with
the prior, who had come to see his old acquaintances and
contributors. S6nya was with them, and she was tor-
mented by a curiosity to find out what Prince Andrdy
was talking about with Natasha. She could hear the
sound of their voices behind the door. The door of Prince
Andr6y's room was opened. Nat6sha came out of it with
an agitated face. She did not notice the monk who had
risen to meet her and was drawing back the broad sleeve
of his right arm, and walked over to S6nya and took her
Nat6sha, what is the matter ? Come here I said the
Natasha went up to receive the benediction, and the
prior advised her to turn to God and His saint for aid.
Immediately after the prior withdrew, Natisha took the
hand of her companion and went with her to an unoccu-
pied room.
S6nya, do you think he will live ?" she said. S6uya,
how happy I am, and how unhappy at the same time!
Sdnya dear, everything is as of old. If he only lives!
He cannot because, because and Natasha burst out
into tears.
Yes, I knew it! Thank God," muttered S6nya. He
will live !"
S6nya was not less agitated than her companion, by her


fear and sorrow, and by her personal, unuttered thoughts.
She sobbed as she kissed and consoled Natasha. If he
would only live!" she thought. After weeping, talking,
and drying their tears, both companions went up to the
door of Prince Andr6y's room. Nat6sha cautiously opened
the door and looked in. S6nya stood beside her near the
half-open door.
Prince Andr6y was lying high on three pillows. His
pale face was calm and his eyes closed, and he could be
seen breathing evenly.
Oh, Natasha!" S6nya suddenly almost cried out, grasp-
ing the arm of her cousin and receding from the door.
"What? What is it ?" asked Natasha.
"It is that, that -" said S6nya, with a pale face and
trembling lips.
Natisha softly closed the door and went with S6nya
toward the window, still failing to understand what S6nya
was talking about.
Do you remember," S6nya said, with a frightened and
solemn face, "do you remember that time when I looked
for you in the mirror ? In OtrAdnoe, at Christmas Do
you remember what I saw?"
Yes, yes," said Natisha, opening her eyes wide and
dimly recalling that S6nya had then said something about
Prince Andr6y, whom she saw in a lying posture.
Do you remember ?" continued S6nya. I saw it
then, and said so to all, to you and to DunyAsha. I
saw him lying on the bed," she said, making a gesture
with the uplifted finger of her hand at every detail, and
with his eyes shut, and with a rose-coloured quilt, and his
hands crossed," said S6nya, convincing herself, in propor-
tion as she described the details she then saw, that she had
seen them then. She had not seen anything then, and
had said anything that came into her head; but what she
had concocted at that time appeared as real to her as any
other recollection. She not only remembered that she


had said then that he turned around and smiled at her,
and was covered with something red, but she was firmly
convinced that she had said and seen then that he was cov-
ered with a rose-coloured, yes, a rose-coloured quilt, and
that his eyes were shut.
Yes, yes, a rose-coloured quilt," said Natasha, who
seemed to recall herself that "rose-coloured" had been
mentioned then, and in this she saw the chief peculiarity
and mystery of the prophecy.
But what does it mean ?" Natasha said, pensively.
"Oh, I do not know, it is all so extraordinary," said
S6nya, grasping her head.
A few minutes later Prince Andrey rang a bell, and
Natishawent in to him ; while S6nya, experiencing unusual
agitation and meekness of spirit, remained at the window,
to think over the strange facts that had happened.

On that day there was a chance of sending a letter to
the army, and the countess wrote to her son.
S6nya," said the countess, raising her head from the
letter, as her niece passed by her, S6nya, won't you write
to Nikolay ?" she said, in a quiet, quivering voice, and in
the glance of her fatigued eyes, looking above her glasses,
S6nya read everything the countess meant by those words.
In this glance was expressed entreaty, and fear of a refusal,
and shame at being compelled to ask her, and a readiness
for an undying hatred in case of refusal.
S6nya went up to the countess and, kneeling down,
kissed her hand.
I will write, mamma," she said.
S6nya was touched, agitated, and meek of spirit from the
effect of all that had happened on that day, especially from
the effect of that mysterious accomplishment of the divina-
tion, which she had just witnessed. Now that she knew
that, on account of the renewal of Natisha's relations with
Prince Andrby, Nikoldy could not marry Princess MArya,


she was happy to feel the return of that mood of self-sacri-
fice in which she had been accustomed to live, and which
gave her pleasure. With tears in her eyes and with the
joyful consciousness of doing a magnanimous deed, she,
several times interrupting her tears, which bedimmed her
velvety black eyes, wrote that touching letter, the receipt
of which so startled Nikolay.

AT the guard-house, to which Pierre was led, the officer
and the soldiers who took him there treated him hostilely,
but at the same time with respect. In their relations to
him could be observed a certain suspicion that he might
be a very important personage, and hostility on account of
their late personal conflict with him.
But when, on the next morning, the guard was relieved,
Pierre noticed that for the new watch- both for the
officers and the soldiers he no longer had the meaning
which he had had for those who had captured him.
Indeed, in this tall, stout man in the caftan of a peasant,
the guard of the next day did not see that living man who
had had such a desperate fight with the marauder and with
the soldiers of the patrol, and who had expressed himself
so solemnly about having saved a child; they saw in him
nothing more than one of the seventeen Russians held for
some reason by the order of the higher authorities. If
there was anything peculiar in Pierre, it was his concen-
trated and pensive, not at all timid, aspect, and his French,
in which language, to the surprise of the soldiers, he
expressed himself well. And yet, Pierre was on that day
put with the other suspects, because the special room
which he had occupied was wanted by an officer.
All the Russians who were held with Pierre were men
of the very lowest ranks. All of them, recognizing the
gentleman in Pierre, kept aloof from him, the more so
since he spoke French. Pierre in sadness listened to their
derisive remarks about him.


On the following evening, Pierre learned that all the
prisoners (no doubt, he among them) were to be tried for
incendiarism. On the third day, Pierre and the rest were
taken to a house where sat a French general with a white
moustache, two colonels, and other Frenchmen with ribbons
on their arms. With that precision and definiteness which
are supposed to surpass all human weaknesses, and which
are generally employed in relation to culprits, questions
were addressed to Pierre, just as to the others, as to who
he was, where he had been, for what purpose, and so forth.
These questions, by leaving out the essence of the vital
matter and excluding the possibility of discovering this
essence, like all questions put in courts of justice, had for
their aim nothing but the indication of the groove along
which the judges wished that the answers of the defendant
should flow, so as to bring him to the desired end, that is,
to self-accusation. The moment he began to say some-
thing which did not satisfy the end of the accusation, the
groove was taken away and the water could flow where it
wished. Besides, Pierre experienced the same that the
defendant experiences in any court: perplexity at having
all these questions put to him. He felt that this trick
of supplying him with a groove was used only as a con-
descension or, as it were, as a token of civility. He knew
that he was in the power of these men; that power only
had brought him there; that power only gave them the
right to demand answers of him; that the only purpose of
this meeting consisted in his conviction. Therefore, since
they possessed the power and had the desire to convict
him, there was no need of the trick of questioning him
and sitting in judgment over him. It was evident that
all his answers must prove his guilt.
To the question what he had been doing when he was
arrested, Pierre replied with some tragic air that he had
been carrying to her parents a child," qu'il avait sauvd des


Why had he fought with the marauder ? Pierre replied
that he had been defending a woman; that it was the
duty of any man to defend a woman to whom an insult
was offered; that -
He was stopped short: this was irrelevant. Why had
he been in the yard of the burning house, where he had
been seen by witnesses ? He replied that he had gone out
to see what was going on in Moscow.
He was again stopped: he was not asked where he had
been going, but why he had been near the fire. Who was
he? The first question was repeated to him, and to
this he had replied that he would not tell. He said again
that he could not tell.
"Write it down! It is not good! It is very bad! "
the general with the white moustache and red face said
to him.
On the fourth day the fires began on the Zdbov Rampart.
Pierre was taken with thirteen others to the Crimea
Ford, into a carriage-shed of a merchant house. Passing
through the streets, Pierre choked from the smoke which
seemed to be over the whole city. Fires could be seen on
every side. Pierre at that time did not yet comprehend
the significance of burning Moscow and looked with
terror at these fires.
Pierre passed four more days in the carriage-shed of one
of the houses near the Crimea Ford, and during this time
he learned from the conversation of the French soldiers
that all the prisoners were expecting any day the decision
of the marshal. What marshal it was, Pierre could not
find out from the soldiers. To them a marshal presentted
himself as a very high and somewhat mysterious link
of power.
These first days, up to the 8th of September, when the
prisoners were taken to a second trial, were the hardest
for Pierre.

ON the 8th of September, the shed where the prisoners
were was entered by a very important officer, to judge
from the respect shown him by the guards. This officer,
evidently from the staff, holding a list in his hands, called
the names of all the Russians, denominating Pierre as
c" celui qui n'avoue pas son nom." Casting an indifferent
and indolent glance at all the prisoners, he ordered the
officer of the guard to dress them and clean them up
before taking them to the marshal. In an hour there
arrived a company of soldiers, and Pierre with the thirteen
others was taken to the Virgin Field. It was a clear,
sunlit day after a rain, and the air was unusually pure.
The smoke did not lodge in the streets, as it had on the
day when Pierre had been led out from the guard-house
of the Zubov Rampart; the smoke rose in columns in the
pure air. One could nowhere see the flame of the fires,
but on every side rose columns of smoke, and all of
Moscow, everything which Pierre could see, was one large
burning mass. On every side could be seen devastated
spots with standing fireplaces and chimneys, and now and
then smoke-begrimed walls of stone houses. Pierre looked
at the devastation and could not recognize familiar quarters
of the city. Here and there he saw churches that had
escaped destruction. The Kremlin was not ruined and
shone white in the distance, with its towers and with its
Ivan the Great. Near by brightly gleamed the cupola of
the Monastery of the New Virgin, and from there pro-


ceeded the peculiarly sonorous sound of the bells. This
ringing reminded Pierre that it was Sunday and the
holiday of the Virgin's Nativity. There seemed to be
no one to celebrate this holiday: everywhere was the
destruction of fire, and of Russians one met but occasion-
ally tattered, frightened men, who hid at the sight of the
It was evident that the Russian nest was destroyed and
annihilated; but in the destruction of the Russian order
of life, Pierre unconsciously felt that an entirely new, a
firm French order of things had established itself in this
shattered nest. He felt this at the sight of the soldiers,
who, walking briskly and merrily in regular ranks, were
conveying him with the other criminals; he felt it at the
sight of some important French official in a two-horse car-
riage driven by a soldier, as it rushed past him; he felt it
in the merry sounds of the regimental music, which were
borne to him from the left of the field; and, more espe-
cially, he felt and comprehended it from that list which
the officer who had arrived that morning had read in
calling the roll of the prisoners. Pierre had been arrested
by one set of soldiers and had been taken to this and to
that place with a dozen other men; one would think they
might have forgotten him or have mistaken him for some
one else. But no: his answers, which he had given at
the inquest, returned to him under his appellation of
" celui qui n'avoue pas son nom." And under this desig-
nation, which was terrible to Pierre, he was being led
somewhere with the absolute assurance written in the
faces of the guard that all the other prisoners and he him-
self were precisely those that they wanted, and that they
were being led where they belonged. Pierre felt himself
an insignificant chip which had fallen into the wheels
of an unknown but regularly working machine.
Pierre and the other criminals were brought to the
right side of the Virgin Field, in the neighbourhood of


the monastery, to a large white house with an immense
It was the house of Prince Shcherbdtov, which Pierre
had frequented before, and in which now, as he learned
from the soldiers' conversation, was stationed the marshal,
the Duke of Eckmiihl.
They were brought up to the veranda, and were, one
after another, led into the house. Pierre was the sixth to
be taken in. Through a glass gallery, a vestibule, an ante-
chamber, all familiar to Pierre, he was led into a long,
low-studded cabinet, at the door of which stood an
Davout was sitting at the end of the room, at a table,
with his spectacles on his nose. Pierre went up close to
him. Davout did not raise his eyes, evidently busy on
some paper which was lying before him. Without rais-
ing his eyes, he asked him, "Qui etes-vous ?"
Pierre was silent because he was not able to utter a
word. Davout was for Pierre not merely a French gen-
eral; for him Davout was a man well known for his cru-
elty. Looking at the cold face of Davout, who, as a stern
teacher, agreed for a time to be patient and wait for an
answer, he felt that a second of hesitation could cost him
his life; but he did not know what to say. He could not
make up his mind to say what he had said at his first in-
quest; and it was perilous and a disgrace to give away his
standing and position. Pierre was silent; but, before he
could make up his mind for anything, Davout raised his
head, moved his glasses up on his brow, blinked with his
eyes, and looked fixedly at Pierre.
"I know this man," he said, in a measured, cold voice,
which was evidently calculated to frighten Pierre.
The chill, which had run up Pierre's back, now held
his head, as in a vise.
Mon general, vous ne pouvez pas me connaitre, je ne
vous ai jamais vu "


C'cst un espion russe," Davout interrupted him, turn-
ing to another general who was in the room, and whom
Pierre had not noticed.
Davout turned aside. With a sudden peal in his voice,
Pierre uttered rapidly:
Non, monscigneur," he said, suddenly recalling that
Davout was a duke. Non, monseigneur, vous n'avez pas
pu me connaitre. Je suis un oficier militionnaire et je n'ai
pas quite Moscou."
Votre nom ? repeated Davout.
Qu'est-ce qui me prouvera que vous ne mentez pas? "
Monseigneur," Pierre exclaimed, not in a voice of
offence, but of entreaty.
Davout raised his eyes and looked fixedly at Pierre.
They looked at each other for a few seconds, and this
glance saved Pierre. In this glance, in spite of all the
conditions of war and judicial procedure, human relations
were established between the two men. At this moment
they both dimly passed through an endless number of
sensations, and they understood that they were both chil-
dren of humanity, that they were brothers.
In his first glance Davout, who had barely raised his
head from his list, on which human affairs and life were
called off by numbers, had looked upon Pierre merely as
a circumstance, and, without taking on his conscience a
bad act, he would have ordered him shot; but now he
saw in him a man. He meditated for a moment.
Comment me prouverez-vouz la veritd de ce que vous me
dites ?" Davout said, coldly.
Pierre recalled Ramball and mentioned his regiment, his
name, and the street where his house was.
Vous n'tcs pas ce que vous dites," Davout said
Pierre began in a trembling, faltering voice to adduce
proofs of the truth of his statements.


Just then an adjutant entered and reported something
to Davout.
Davout suddenly brightened up at the news which the
adjutant had communicated to him, and began to button
his coat. Apparently he entirely forgot about Pierre.
When the adjutant reminded him about the prisoner,
he nodded with a frown in the direction of Pierre and said
that he should be led away. Whither he was to be taken,
Pierre did not know: whether back to the shed, or to the
improvised place of execution on the Virgin Field, which
his companions had pointed out to him in passing.
He turned his head around and saw that the adjutant
repeated some question.
Oui, sans doute !" said Davout, but what this yes "
referred to Pierre did not know.
Pierre did not remember how long he had walked or
whither he was taken. In a condition of absolute stupor,
without seeing a thing about him, he kept moving his
feet along with the rest, until all stopped, and he too.
There was but one thought in Pierre's head. It was this:
Who, who had finally sentenced him to be executed ? Cer-
tainly not those people who had examined him at the
inquest: of these not one wished to do it, nor was able to
do it. It was not Davout, who had cast such a human
look at him. One minute more, and Davout would have
comprehended that they were doing wrong, but this
minute was disturbed by the adjutant's entering. That
adjutant, evidently, did not wish him harm, but he might
have kept away. Who, then, was it who was executing
him, killing him, depriving him of life, with all its recol-
lections, strivings, hopes, and thoughts? Who was doing
it ? Pierre felt that it was nobody.
It was the order, the concurrence of circumstances.
It was a certain order that was killing him, Pierre, -
depriving him of life and everything, annihilating him.

FRoM the house of Prince Shcherbatov the prisoners
were led down the Virgin Field, to the left of the New
Virgin Monastery, and were taken to a garden where
stood a post. Beyond the post was a large ditch with
freshly dug earth, and near it and the post a large mass of
people stood in a semicircle. It consisted of a small num-
ber of Russians and a large number of Napoleonic soldiers,
not in the ranks, of Germans, Italians, Frenchmen, in a
great variety of uniforms. To the right and left of the
post stood aligned French troops in blue uniforms with
red epaulets, gaiters, and shakos.
The criminals were placed in the order in which they
were on the list (Pierre stood the sixth), and were taken
up to the post. Suddenly several drums on either side
were beaten, and Pierre felt that with this sound some-
thing was torn away from his soul. He lost the ability to
think and to reflect. He could only see and hear. He had
only one desire, and that was that the something terrible,
which was to happen, should take place at once. Pierre
looked at his companions and examined them.
The two men on the outer side were shaven convicts:
one of them was tall and lean; the other a black,
shaggy, muscular man with a flattened nose. The third
was a janitor, a man of about forty-five years of age, with
streaks of gray in his hair and a plump, well-fed body.
The fourth was a very handsome peasant with a long,
blond beard and black eyes. The fifth was a workman of


a factory, a sallow, lean lad, of about eighteen years of age,
wearing a cloak.
Pierre heard the Frenchmen deliberating whether they
were to shoot one or two at a time. Two at a time,"
calmly and coolly replied the senior officer. There was a
commotion in the ranks of the soldiers, and it was evident
that all were hurrying, not as one hurries when something
intelligible to everybody is to be performed, but as one
hurries in order to get done with a necessary, but disagree-
able and incomprehensible, piece of business.
A French official in a sash walked over to the right side
of the row of criminals and read their sentence in Russian
and in French.
Then four Frenchmen went up to the criminals and, at
the officer's indication, took the two convicts, who were
standing at the outer edge. The convicts walked over to
the post and stopped, and, while sacks were being brought,
looked silently around, as a baited beast looks at the
approaching hunter. One of them kept crossing himself;
the other rubbed his back and made with his lips a motion
which resembled a smile. The soldiers fumbled with their
hands and began to blindfold them, to put the sacks on
them, and to bind them to the post.
Twelve soldiers with their guns walked with even,
firm steps out of the ranks and stationed themselves
within eight paces from the post. Pierre turned away in
order not to see what was to happen. Suddenly he heard
a crackling and rumbling, which appeared to him louder
than any peals of thunder, and he looked around. There
was a smoke, and the Frenchmen with pale faces and
trembling hands were doing something at the ditch.
Two others were taken up. These two looked with just
such eyes at everybody, silently and vainly, with their
eyes only imploring succour, and apparently not under-
standing and not believing what was going to happen.
They could not believe it, because they alone could know


what life was to them, and so they did not understand, nor
believe, that they could be deprived of it.
Pierre did not want to see what was going on, and
turned his face away; but again a terrible explosion
struck his ear, and, at the same time that he perceived the
smoke, he saw blood and the pale, frightened faces of the
Frenchmen again doing something at the post, pushing
one another with trembling hands. Breathing heavily,
Pierre looked about him, as though to ask himself:
" What is this ?" The same question was in all the eyes
which met Pierre's glance.
On all the Russian faces, on all the faces of the French
soldiers and officers, on all without exception, he read the
same terror and struggle which were in his heart.
Tirailleurs du 86-me, en avant !" some one shouted.
The fifth man, who was standing with Pierre, was led
up by himself. Pierre did not understand that he was
saved, that he and the rest had been brought up only to
witness the execution. He kept looking at what was going
on, with ever increasing terror, without experiencing joy
or peace. The fifth man was the factory hand in the
cloak. The moment they touched him, he leaped aside in
terror and took hold of Pierre (Pierre shuddered and tore
himself away from him). The workman could not walk.
He was dragged along by his arms, and he kept crying
something. When he was brought up to the post, he sud-
denly grew silent. He seemed suddenly to comprehend.
Whether he understood that it was in vain to cry, or that
it was impossible that people should kill him, he stood
up at the post waiting to be blindfolded with others, and
like a wounded beast looked about him with sparkling
Pierre no longer had the strength to turn away and shut
his eyes. His curiosity and agitation and those of the crowd
reached the highest tension with this fifth murder. This
fifth man seemed to be as calm as the rest had been: he


wrapped himself in his cloak and rubbed one bare foot
with the other.
As they bandaged his eyes, he himself adjusted the
knot on the back of his head, as it made him uncomforta-
ble. Then, as he was placed against the blood-stained
post, he leaned back, but as he did not feel comfortable in
that posture, he pulled himself up and, putting his feet
straight, calmly leaned against the post. Pierre did not
take his eyes off him, and watched every smallest motion
of his.
No doubt the command was given, and no doubt there
was heard the discharge of eight guns. But no matter
how much Pierre tried to recall it later, he had not heard
the slightest sound of the fusilade. He saw only that the
workman for some reason slipped down in the ropes;
that blood appeared in two spots; that the ropes them-
selves, from the weight of the limp body, were loosened;
and that the workman, letting his head droop in an unnat-
ural manner and bending his legs, sat down on the ground.
Pierre ran up to the post. No one held him back. The
frightened, pale men were doing something about the
workman. The nether jaw of an old mustachioed French-
man was trembling, as he loosened the ropes. The body
dropped. The soldiers awkwardly and hurriedly dragged
it beyond the post and began to push it down into the
It was quite apparent that they all knew that they were
criminals, who must as quickly as possible conceal the
traces of their crimes.
Pierre looked in the ditch and saw that the workman
was lying with his knees raised up to his head, one
shoulder being higher than the other. This shoulder con-
vulsively rose and fell in even measure. But the shovel-
fuls of earth were already falling on the whole body.
One of the soldiers in anger and irritation called out to
Pierre to go back. But Pierre did not understand him


and remained standing at the post, from which no one
drove him away.
When the ditch was all filled up, a command was
given. Pierre was taken back to his place, and the French
troops, which had been fronting the post on both sides,
faced about and with measured steps began to march
past the post. The twenty-four members of the firing
party with their guns unloaded, who were standing within
the circle, in a trot rejoined their companies as they
walked by them.
Pierre now looked with senseless eyes at these men as
they left the circle in pairs. All but one joined their
ranks. One young soldier, with a deathly pale counte-
nance, in a shako which had fallen on his back, and
allowing his gun to droop, was still standing opposite the
ditch, in the spot from which he had fired his gun. He
tottered like one drunk, making now a few steps in front,
and now back again, in order to sustain his falling body.
An old soldier, an under-officer, ran out of the ranks and,
grabbing the young fellow by the shoulder, drew him back
into the ranks. The crowd of Russians and French-
men began to scatter. All walked in silence with droop-
ing heads.
Ca leur apprendra & incendier," said one of the
Pierre looked around at the speaker and saw a soldier
who was trying to find some consolation in what had been
done, but was unable to do so. Without finishing his
sentence, he waved his hand and walked on.


AFTER the execution, Pierre was separated from the
other prisoners and left all by himself in a small, polluted
Before evening an under-officer of the sentry and two
other soldiers entered the church and informed Pierre that
he was pardoned and now would take up his place in the
barracks of the prisoners of war. Pierre rose and followed
the soldiers. He was brought to booths constructed of
half-burnt boards, logs, and shingles, and was taken inside
one of them. In the darkness some twenty different men
surrounded him. He looked at them and did not under-
stand who these men were, what they were doing there,
and what they wanted of him. He heard the words ad-
dressed to him, but made no deductions from them: he
simply did not understand their significance. He replied
to the questions put to him, but did not consider who was
listening to him, or how his answers would be received.
He looked at the faces and forms, and all of them seemed
equally meaningless to him.
Ever since Pierre had seen that terrible murder com-
mitted by people who did not wish to do it, that spring
which held everything together, and through which every-
thing appeared to be living, suddenly seemed to be torn
out of his soul, and everything collapsed into a heap of
meaningless dirt. Though he was not conscious of it, this
incident had destroyed his faith in the order of the world,
in the human soul and in his own soul, and in God.
Pierre had experienced this condition before, but never


with such force as now. Formerly, when Pierre was
overcome by doubts of this kind, these doubts had his
own guilt for their source; and then he felt, in his in-
nermost heart, that from that despair and from those
doubts his salvation lay in himself. But now he felt that
it was not his guilt that was the cause of the world's
destruction in his eyes, and that nothing but meaningless
ruins were left. He felt that it was not in his power to
return to faith in life.
Around him, in the darkness, stood men: apparently
there was something in him which amused them. He
was being told something; questions were asked him, and
finally he was taken somewhere, and he found himself in
the corner of the booth, side by side with some people
who were conversing and laughing all around him.
"And so, my friends, that very prince iwho (a voice
spoke in the opposite corner of the booth, with special
emphasis on the word who ").
Pierre sat in silence and motionless on some straw near
the wall, and now opened and now closed his eyes. But,
the moment his eyes were shut, he saw before him that
terrible face of the factory hand, especially terrible in its
simplicity, and the still more terrible, restless faces of the
involuntary murderers. He again opened his eyes and
senselessly looked around him in the darkness.
Beside him sat, bending over, a small man, of whose
presence Pierre had become aware by the strong odour of
perspiration which emanated from him at every motion
of his. This man was doing something to his feet in the
darkness, and, though Pierre did not see his face, he felt
that the man was constantly gazing at him. Looking
closely at him, Pierre made out that he was divesting
himself of his foot-gear. Pierre was interested in the
manner in which this was done.
Having unwound the laces with which one leg was
wrapped, he carefully rolled up the strips and immediately


started the same operation on the other leg, looking all the
time at Pierre. While the one hand was hanging up
the laces, the other was already beginning to unwind the
laces of the second leg. Having in this manner carefully
taken off his foot-wear with rounded, agile, uninterrupted
motions, he hung it up on pegs driven into the wall
above his head, drew out a pen-knife, cut something,
clasped his knife, placed it under his head-rest, and, seating
himself more comfortably, embraced his raised knees with
his hands and gazed straight at Pierre. Pierre felt some-
thing pleasant, soothing, and rounded in these agile mo-
tions, in this well-arranged corner of his, even in the
odour of the man, and looked at him, without taking his
eyes away.
Have you seen much misery, sir, eh ?" the little man
suddenly said. There was such an expression of kindli-
ness and simplicity in the singsong voice of the man, that
Pierre wanted to reply to him, but his jaw began to trem-
ble, and he felt that tears were coming. Without giving
Pierre a chance to give utterance to his embarrassment,
the little man at once continued, with his pleasant
"Oh, my friend, don't worry!" he spoke with that
tender chanting voice of kindness, in which old Russian
women talk. "Don't worry, my friend. An hour you
suffer, an age you live! Yes, my friend! We manage
to live here, thank God, without suffering insult. They
are men themselves, and there are good and bad people
among them," he said, and, while still speaking, he with a
flexible motion bent over his knees, got up, and, coughing,
went away somewhere.
"I declare, you rogue, you have come back!" Pierre
heard the same kindly voice at the other end of the
booth. You have come back, you rogue, you remember
us! All right, all right!" And the soldier pushed the
dog away that sprang up to him, returned to his place,


and sat down again. In his hand there was something
wrapped in a piece of paper.
Eat this, sir !" he said, returning to his old respectful
tone, and, opening up the paper, he handed Pierre a few
baked potatoes. We had soup for dinner, and these
potatoes are fine!"
Pierre had not eaten all day, and the odour of the
potatoes seemed delicious to him. He thanked the sol-
dier and began to eat.
Well, how are they ?" the soldier said, smiling, and
taking a potato. "Do it like this!" He drew out his
clasp-knife, cut the potato in his hand in two equal parts,
sprinkled some salt on it from a small rag, and handed it
to Pierre.
The potatoes are fine," he repeated. Eat them like
this !"
It seemed to Pierre that he had never eaten anything
so savoury.
I am all right," said Pierre, but why did they shoot
those unfortunates ? The last was about twenty years old."
Hush, hush," said the little man. It is sinful to men-
tion he swiftly added and, as though his words were
always at his tongue's end and escaped by accident, he
continued: Sir, how is it you have remained in Moscow ?"
I did not think they would be here so soon. I was
left by accident," said Pierre.
"How did they take you, friend ? Out of your house ?"
No, I went to a fire, and there they arrested me and
tried me as an incendiary."
Where there is a court, there is injustice," interposed
the little man.
"How long have you been here ?" asked Pierre, munch-
ing at his last potato.
"I ? Last Sunday they took me out of the hospital in
Who are you, a soldier?"


A soldier of the Apsheron regiment. I was almost
dead with a fever. We were not told anything. There
were about twenty of us in the hospital. We had no
suspicion of it."
Well, you feel lonesome here ?" asked Pierre.
Of course I am, my friend. My name is Plat6n, of
the family of KaratEevs," he added, evidently in order to
make it easier for Pierre to address him. They called
me Little Falcon' in the army. How can I help being
lonesome, my friend? Moscow is the mother of cities !
How can one help feeling lonesome looking at what is
going on The worm gnaws at the cabbage, and himself
perishes first, as the old men used to say," he quickly
"How, how did you say it ?" asked Pierre.
"I ?" asked KaratAev. "I speak not my mind, but
God's judgment," he said, thinking that he was repeating
what he had said. He immediately continued: "Well,
sir, have you any estates ? And a house ? And I suppose
a full bowl! A housewife ? And are your old parents
alive ?" he asked. Though Pierre did not see in the
darkness, he felt that the soldier's lips were curling with
a reserved smile of kindness, as he asked these questions.
Apparently he was grieved to hear that Pierre had no
parents, especially no mother.
"A wife for counsel, a mother-in-law for reception, but
there is no one sweeter than a mother!" he said. "Well,
and have you any children ? he continued to ask. Pierre's
negative answer apparently grieved him, and so he ha-
stened to add: Well, you are still young, and God will
grant you some. If you only live in peace- "
"What difference does it now make?" Pierre said,
Oh, my dear man," retorted Plat6n, never refuse the
wallet or jail." He seated himself more comfortably,
cleared his throat, evidently preparing himself for a long


story. Yes, my friend, I was still living at home," he
began. We have a rich estate, plenty of land, and the
peasants live well, and our house, thanks to God, is
prosperous. My father used to go out with six others to
reap. We lived well. We were true Christians. It hap-
pened and Plat6n Karataev told a long story of how
he once went to somebody's forest to take some wood, and
of how he was caught, flogged, tried, and sent to the army.
" Well, my little falcon," he said, in a voice which was
changed through his smile, we thought it a misfortune,
but it turned out a joy My brother would have had to
go if it had not been for my sin. But my younger
brother himself had five children, while I left only a wife
behind. There was a girl, but God took her away before
my going into the army. I went back on a leave of
absence, and behold, they were living better than before.
The barn-yard was full of cattle; the women at home;
two brothers out earning money. Only Mikhaylo, the
younger, was at home. Says my father: 'All my chil-
dren are the same to me; it hurts no matter what finger
is bitten; and if Plat6n had not been shaven a soldier,
Mikhaylo would have had to go.' He called us all up,-
would you believe it, and placed us before the images.
' Mikhaylo,' says he,' come here and bow before him, and
you, woman, and you, grandchildren, bow to him! Do
you understand ?' says he. Yes, my friend Fate looks
for her heads, and there we go on saying: This is bad,
and this wrong. Our happiness, my friend, is like water
in a drag-net: you pull at it and it swells, you drag it out,
and there is nothing in it. Yes, sir." And Plat6n changed
his position on the straw.
After a moment's silence, Plat6n got up.
Well, I suppose you want to sleep," he said. He be-
gan at once to cross himself, saying all the time: Lord
Jesus Christ, St. Nicholas Frola and Lavra, Lord Jesus
Christ, St. Nicholas! Frola and Lavra, Lord Jesus Christ


- have pity on us and save us !" he concluded. Then he
bowed to the ground, got up, sighed, and sat down on his
straw. Yes, sir. O God, let me lie down as a little stone,
and raise me as a white loaf!" he muttered, lying down
and pulling the overcoat over him.
What kind of a prayer did you say there ?" asked
What?" said Plat6n (he was almost asleep).
"Prayer ? I prayed to God. Don't you pray ?"
"Yes, I do," said Pierre. But what did you mean by
Frola and Lavra ?"
Oh! Platon answered, hurriedly, it is the holiday
of the horses. One has to pity the cattle, too," said
Karataev. "I declare, the rogue is there, all rolled up!
Are you warm, daughter of a bitch ?" he said, feeling the
dog at his feet, and, turning around, immediately fell
Outside could be heard weeping and cries, and through
the chinks of the booth fire was seen; but within it was
quiet and dark. Pierre could not sleep for a long time,
and with open eyes lay in the darkness, listening to the
even snoring of Plat6n, who was lying near him, and he
felt that the crushed world was stirring in his soul with a
new beauty, on a new, imperturbable foundation.


IN the booth which Pierre occupied, and where he
passed four weeks, there were twenty-three captive
soldiers, three officers, and two officials.
Later on they all appeared to Pierre as in a mist, but
Plat6n Karataev for ever remained in his soul as a strong,
precious memory and the personification of everything
Russian, good, and rounded. When on the following day,
at break of day, Pierre saw his neighbour, the first impres-
sion of something round was verified completely: all of
Plat6n's figure, in his French mantle girded by a rope, in
a cap and bast shoes, was round. His head was absolutely
round; his back, breast, shoulders, even his arms, which
he carried as though all the time ready to embrace some-
thing, were rounded; his pleasing smile and large, blue,
tender eyes were round.
Plat6n Karataev must have been more than fifty, to
judge from his stories of campaigns in which he had taken
part as an old soldier. He did not know himself, nor
could he in any way make out, how old he was; but his
dazzling white and sound teeth, which could be seen in two
semicircles whenever he laughed (which he did often),
were in good condition and uninjured; there was not a
gray hair in his beard and hair, and his whole body had
the aspect of flexibility and especially of firmness and
His face, in spite of its small, round wrinkles, had an
expression of innocence and youth; his chanting voice
was agreeable. But the chief peculiarity lay in his speech,


which was direct and apposite. He evidently never
thought of what he said or was about to say; and so the
rapidity and precision of his intonations were persuasive
and incontrovertible.
His physical strength and agility during the first of his
imprisonment were of such a character that he did not
seem to know what fatigue and disease were. Every
morning, upon rising, and when he lay down, he repeated
the words, Let me, O Lord, lie down as a little stone
and raise me as a white loaf!" In the morning, after
rising, he always shrugged his shoulders and said, "I lay
down and rolled up, I rose and shook myself." Indeed,
he had only to lie down in order to fall at once asleep as
a stone, and he had only to shake himself in order to go
about his work without a minute's loss, just as children
take to playing the moment they get up. He could do
everything, not very deftly, but not badly either. He
baked, cooked, sewed, planed, cobbled boots. He was
always busy and only at night took the liberty of indul-
ging in conversations, of which he was fond, and in singing.
He sang not as the singers sing, who know that they are
being listened to, but as the birds, apparently because
these sounds were as much a necessity to him as the need
of stretching himself or taking a walk; these sounds were
always thin, tender, almost feminine and melancholy, and
his face was very serious at such times.
When he was made a prisoner and allowed his beard to
grow up, he apparently threw off that which was for-
eign to his nature, his military ways, and returned to his
former, peasant manner of life.
A soldier at leave wears his shirt outside his trousers,"
he used to say. He spoke reluctantly of his soldier life,
though he did not complain, and more than once repeated
that he had never once been flogged during his whole
service. When he told anything about himself, these
stories obviously were drawn from his old and precious


recollections of his Christian life, as he called his
peasant existence. The proverbs, which filled his speech,
were not the indecent, bold saws soldiers generally employ,
but those popular maxims, which seem so insignificant
when taken separately, but which, appropriately applied,
suddenly assume the meaning of profound wisdom.
Frequently he said the very opposite of what he had
said before, but both utterances were correct. He was
fond of talking and talked well, adorning his speech with
words of endearment and proverbs, which, so Pierre
thought, he himself invented; but the chief charm of his
stories consisted in this, that in his speech the simplest
events, frequently the same that Pierre saw without tak-
ing note of them, assumed a character of solemn purport.
He was fond of listening to fairy-tales, which, without
variation, one of the soldiers kept repeating, but more
often he liked to hear stories from actual life. He smiled
joyously as he listened to these, interposing a word here
and there, and putting questions, the purpose of which
was to elucidate to himself the propriety of what he was
being told. Attachments, friendships, love, as Pierre
understood these terms, Karatdev had none; but he loved
and lived in peace with everything with which life
brought him in contact, especially with man, not with
any particular man, but with all people who were before
his eyes. He loved his shepherd dog, his companions,
the Frenchmen, and Pierre, who was his neighbour; but
Pierre felt that Karatiev, in spite of all his kindliness
toward him (by which he gave the proper acknowledgment
to Pierre's spiritual life), would not for a moment be
grieved at parting from him. And Pierre began to
experience the same feeling toward Karat6ev.
Plat6n Karataev was to all the other prisoners a very
common soldier; he was called Little Falcon or Pla-
t6sha;" they good-naturedly made fun of him, and sent
him on errands. But to Pierre he remained the same that


he had presented himself during the first evening, an
inapproachable, round, and eternal personification of the
spirit of simplicity and truth.
Plat6n knew nothing by heart but his prayer. When
he began his speeches, he did not seem to know how he
was going to finish them.
When Pierre, now and then puzzled by the meaning of
his words, asked him to repeat them, Plat6n could not
recall what he had said a minute ago, just as he never
was able to render his favourite song to Pierre in spoken
words. In the song occurred the words my beloved,"
" the sweet little birch," and I pine so much," but when
spoken and not sung these words seemed to him to have
no meaning. He did not understand, and could not under-
stand, the significance of words taken separately, out of
the connected speech. Each word and each action of his
was to him the manifestation of an unknown activity,
which was his life. But his life, as he looked at it, had
no meaning as a separate existence. It had a meaning
only as a particle of the whole, of which he was constantly
aware. His words and actions flowed from him as evenly,
as peremptorily, and as directly as the odour emanates
from the flower. He could understand neither the value
nor the significance of an action or word taken separately.


HAVING received the information from NikolAy that
her brother was with the Rost6vs at Yarosliv, Princess
Marya, in spite of the dissuasion of her aunt, immediately
got ready to depart, and to take her nephew along. She did
not ask, nor did she wish to know, whether this was diffi-
cult or easy, possible or impossible; this was her duty, not
only to be herself near her brother who, possibly, was
dying, but to do all in her power to have his son with
her, and so she made her preparations for the departure.
If Prince Andr6y did not personally give her any news of
himself, she explained it on the ground that he was too
weak to write, or because he regarded the long journey
as too laborious and too dangerous for her and for his
In a few days Princess M6rya was ready to depart.
Her carriages consisted of a coach, in which she had
arrived in Voronezh, a calash, and a cart. With her
travelled Mlle. Bourienne, her nephew with his tutor, an
old nurse, three maids, Tikhon, a young lackey, and a
Haiduk, whom her aunt gave her to take along.
It was impossible to journey directly toward Moscow,
and the roundabout way which Princess Marya was com-
pelled to take through Lipetsk, Ryaz6n, Vladimir, and
Shliya was very long, on account of the impossibility of
providing stage-horses at all stations, very difficult, and, in
the neighbourhood where Frenchmen showed up now and
then, very perilous.
During this difficult journey, Mlle. Bourienne, Desalles,


and the servants of Princess Marya were surprised at her
firmness and activity. She lay down later than the rest,
and was the first to get up, and no difficulties could stop
her. Thanks to her activity and energy, which urged on
her travelling companions, she reached Yarosliv by the
end of the second week.
During the last of her stay at Voronezh, Princess M6rya
had experienced the happiest time of her life. Her love
for Rost6v no longer tormented or agitated her. It filled
all her soul, became an indivisible part of her life, and she
no longer fought against it. Of late she had convinced
herself, though she never clearly said so to herself in
so many words, that she was loved and that she loved.
Of this she had become convinced during her last meeting
with Nikoldy, when he came to inform her that her brother
was with the Rost6vs. Nikol6y had not given the least
hint that now (in case of the convalescence of Prince
Andr4y) his former relations with NatAsha might be
renewed, but she saw by his face that he knew it, and
that he thought so. And yet, his relations with her -
cautious, gentle, tender were not only not changed,
but he seemed even to be glad that the possible marriage
relationship permitted him to express his friendship for
her more freely, as she thought. She knew that she loved
for the first and the last time in her life, and she felt that
she was loved, and was happy and calm in this respect.
This happiness of one of her spiritual sides not only did
not interfere with her feeling the full force of her sorrow
for her brother, but, on the contrary, this spiritual calm in
one direction made it possible for her to abandon herself
fully to her feeling for her brother. This sentiment had
been so strong in the first moments of her departure from
Vor6nezh, that those who saw her off were convinced, as
they looked at her exhausted, despairing face, that she
would certainly fall ill on her journey; but the very
difficulties and cares of the journey, which Princess Mirya


attended to with such vim, for the time being took her
attention away from her grief and saved her strength.
As always happens during a journey, Princess Marya
thought only of the travel, oblivious of what was its
end. But, as she approached Yarosliv, and there began
to rise before her imagination what awaited her, not in a
few days, but that very evening, Princess M~rya's agitation
reached its highest points.
When the Haiduk, who had been sent in advance to
Yaroslav to find out where the Rost6vs were located and
in what condition Prince Andrdy was, met the coach at
the barrier, he was terrified as he saw the princess's
frightfully pale face leaning out of the carriage window.
"I have found out everything, your Serenity! The
Rostovs are in the square, in the house of Merchant
Br6nnikov. It is not far, on the V6lga itself," said the
Princess MArya cast a frightened and inquisitive glance
at his face, wondering why he did not answer the chief
question how her brother was. Mlle. Bourienne put that
question for the princess.
"How is the prince ?" she asked.
His Serenity is in the same house with them."
"Consequently he is alive," thought the princess. She
asked softly, How is he ?"
The people say that he is in the same condition all the
What was meant by in the same condition the prin-
cess did not ask, and, casting only a casual glance at seven-
year-old NikolAy, who was sitting in front of her and
enjoying the sight of the city, she lowered her head and
did not raise it again until the heavy coach, rumbling,
jolting, and swaying, stopped somewhere. The steps of
the carriage clanged as they were thrown down. The
door was opened. On the left was water, a broad river;
on the right was a porch; on the porch stood people, -


servants, and a ruddy girl with a black braid, who, as
Princess M6rya thought, smiled a feigned, disagreeable
smile (it was S6nya). The princess ran up the stairs; the
girl with the feigned smile said, "This way, this way !"
and the princess found herself in the antechamber in front
of an old woman of an Eastern type, who was walking up
to her with a disturbed expression on her face. This was
the countess. She embraced Princess Marya and began to
kiss her.
Mon enfant," she said, "je vous aime et vous connais
depuis longtemps."
In spite of all her agitation, Princess Mirya understood
that it was the countess, and that something ought to be
said to her. Without knowing how, she muttered some
civil words in French, in the same tone as those which
the countess used to her, and then she asked how he was.
"The doctor says that there is no danger," said the
countess; but, as she was saying this, she raised her eyes,
and in this expression there was a contradiction to her
Where is he? May I see him, may I ?" asked the
Immediately, princess, immediately, my friend. Is
this his son ?" she said, turning to little Nikolhy, who
was coming in with Desalles. "We shall all find room,
- the house is large. Oh, what a charming boy !"
The countess took the princess up-stairs. S6nya was
talking with Mile. Bourienne. The countess petted the
boy. The old count entered the room, to greet the prin-
cess. He had changed very much since the princess had
seen him the last time. Then he had been a brisk, merry,
self-confident old man; now he looked a miserable man,
all broken up. As he spoke to the princess, he kept look-
ing around, as though to ask everybody whether he was
doing right. After the destruction of Moscow and of his
estate, he was put out of his beaten track, lost the con-


sciousness of his dignity, and felt that he no longer had a
place in life.
In spite of her one desire to see her brother as soon as
possible, and of her annoyance at being entertained and
hearing her nephew praised, while she had but the one
desire of seeing him, the princess noticed everything
which was taking place all about her, and felt the neces-
sity of submitting for a time to this new order which she
was now entering. She knew that it was all necessary,
and though it was hard for her, she was not annoyed at
This is my niece," said the count, introducing S6nya.
" You do not know her, princess ? "
The princess turned to her and kissed her, trying to
crush in her soul the incipient hostile feeling toward this
girl. Still, it weighed upon her to see the mood of all
those who surrounded her so different from what was in
her souL
Where is he? she asked once more, turning to all.
He is down-stairs. Natasha is with him," S6nya re-
plied, blushing. Somebody has gone down to see how he
is. Are you not tired, princess ? "
Tears of annoyance stood in the eyes of the princess.
She turned away and wanted again to ask the countess
which way she could go down to see him, when at the
door were heard light, impulsive, almost merry footsteps.
The princess looked around and saw Natasha, who almost
ran in, that Natdsha who, at the former meeting in
Moscow, had so displeased her.
The princess had barely had time to look into the face
of this Nat6sha, when she understood that she was her
sincere companion in misfortune, and therefore her friend.
She rushed up to her and, embracing her, wept on her
The moment Natisha, who had been sitting at Prince
Andr6y's bedside, learned about the arrival of Princess


Marya, she softly left his room with those rapid footsteps,
which to Marya had appeared indicative of joy, and ran
up to her.
On her agitated countenance there was but one expres-
sion as she ran into the room, an expression of love, of
illimitable love for him, for her, for everything that was
near to the man she loved, an expression of pity and suf-
fering for others, and of an impassioned desire to devote
herself entirely to the succour of these people. It was
evident that at that moment there was not a thought of
herself, of her relations to him, in Natdsha's soul.
Sensitive Princess Marya comprehended all this from
her first look at Nat6sha's face, and so she wept on her
shoulder with the enjoyment of grief.
Let us go, let us go to him, Marie," said NatAsha,
leading her into another room.
Princess Mirya raised her face, dried her tears, and
turned to Natdsha. She felt that from her she would
find out everything.
How -" she began her question, but suddenly stopped.
She felt that questions could neither be put nor answered
with words. Natasha's face and eyes were to tell every-
thing more clearly and more profoundly.
Nat6sha looked at her, but, it seemed, was in dread and
doubt whether she had better tell her all she knew, or
not; she seemed to feel that before those beaming eyes
which penetrated the very depth of her heart it was not
possible to tell all the truth, as she saw it. Natisha's lip
suddenly quivered; ugly wrinkles formed around her
mouth, and she sobbed out loud and covered her face with
her hands.
Princess Marya understood everything.
But she still hoped and asked in words, in which she
had no faith:
"How is his wound? In what condition is he in
general ?"


"You you will see him," was all Nat6sha was
able to say.
They sat for awhile down-stairs near his room, in order
to stop weeping first and enter his room with composed
faces. "How has the whole illness proceeded? When
did he feel worst ? When did it happen ?" asked Prin-
cess MArya.
Natasha told her that at first there was danger from
his feverish condition and from the suffering, but that at
Tr6itsa it passed, and the doctor now was afraid only of
gangrene setting in. But even this danger was passing.
When they arrived at Yarosl6v the wound began to fester
(Natasha knew everything in regard to suppuration, etc.),
and the doctor said that the suppuration might pass
favourably. Then he fell into a fever. The doctor said
that the fever was not so dangerous. But two days ago,"
began Nat6sha, this suddenly happened She kept
back her sobs. "I do not know why, but you will see for
yourself how he looks."
"Is he very feeble ? Is he thin ?" asked the princess.
"Not that, but something worse. You will see. Oh,
Marie, he is too good, he cannot, cannot live because -

WHEN NatAsha opened the door with a characteristic
movement, in order to let the princess pass first, Princess
Marya already felt the sobs ready to issue from her throat.
No matter how much she had prepared herself and now
tried to calm herself, she knew that it was not in her
power to see him without tears.
Princess Marya understood what she meant by the
words," It happened to him two days ago." She compre-
hended that it meant that he suddenly became of a softer
mood, and that this softness and tenderness were signs of
the approaching death. As she walked over to the door,
she saw in her imagination Andrey's face as she had known
it in his childhood, that tender, meek, gentle face, which
he so seldom showed, and which therefore always affected
her so strongly. She knew that he would speak soft,
gentle words to her, such as her father had spoken to her
before his death, and that she would not be able to bear
them and would burst out into sobs. But, sooner or later, it
had to be, and she entered the room. The sobs rose higher
and higher in her throat as she with her near-sighted eyes
more and more clearly discerned his form and sought for
his features. Then she saw his face, and their glances met.
He was lying on a divan, bedded on pillows, wearing a
squirrel-fur morning-gown. He was thin and pale. One
lean, translucently white hand held a handkerchief, while
with his other he, softly moving his fingers, touched the
scanty stubbles of his unshaven moustache. His eyes were
directed toward the entering women.


Upon seeing his face and meeting his glance, Princess
Marya suddenly tempered the rapidity of her walk and
felt that her tears were suddenly dried up and her sobs
stopped. As she caught the expression of his face and
glance, she suddenly became timid and felt guilty.
What is my guilt ? she asked herself. Because you
live, and think of the living, while I -" his cold, stern
look said to her.
In the deep glance, which looked not outwardly but in-
wardly, there was almost hostility, as he slowly surveyed his
sister and Nattsha.
He and his sister kissed each other's hands, as was
their custom.
"Good morning, Marie, how did you get here ? he said,
in a voice which was as even and strange as his glance. If
he had screamed a desperate scream, the cry would not
have surprised Princess MArya more than the sound of
this voice. Have you brought Nikoldy, too ?" he said,
just as evenly and slowly, and with an apparent effort of
How is your health now? said Princess Marya, her-
self wondering at what she was saying.
"That, my dear, you must ask the doctor," he replied,
and, evidently making another effort to be kind, he said
with his mouth only (obviously he was not thinking of
what he spoke):
Mcrci, che'rc amic, d'etre venue."
Princess MArya pressed his hand. He barely frowned
at the pressure. He was silent, and she did not know
what to say. She understood what it was that had hap-
pened to him two days before. In his words and tone,
especially in his glance, that cold, almost hostile
glance, was felt that estrangement from everything
worldly which is so terrible to a living man. He evi-
dently comprehended matters of life with difficulty; at
the same time one felt that he did not comprehend these


things, not because he was deprived of the power of under-
standing, but because he understood something different,
something which the living did not and could not under-
stand, and which absorbed all his attention.
Yes, fate has brought us strangely together !" he said,
interrupting the silence, and pointing to Natasha. She
has been tending on me all the time."
Princess Marya listened, but did not comprehend what
he was saying. He, sensitive, gentle Prince Andrdy, how
could he say that in the presence of her he had loved and
who had loved him ? If he thought of the possibility of
living, he would not say this in such a cold and offensive
tone. If he did not know that he was going to die, how
could he help pitying her? How could he say it in her
presence ? There could be but one explanation to it: it
was, that it made no difference to him, and it made no
difference because something else, something more impor-
tant, was revealed to him.
The conversation was cold and incoherent, and was
interrupted every minute.
Marie travelled through Ryazdn," said Natasha. Prince
Andrey did not notice that she called his sister Marie.
And it was only in using this word before him that Na-
tasha herself became aware of using it.
Well?" he asked.
"She was told that all of Moscow was burned completely,
that "
Ndtasha stopped: it was impossible to continue. He
was evidently making an effort to listen, but could not.
"Yes, they say it burned," he said. "It is a pity,"
and he began to gaze in front of him, absently stroking
his moustache.
Marie, so you met Count Nikolay ?" Prince Andr4y
suddenly said, evidently wishing to say something pleasant.
"He wrote that he took a great liking to you," he contin-
ued, simply and calmly, evidently unable to comprehend


the complex meaning his words had for living beings. "It
would be very well if you, too, took a liking to him if you
married," he added a little more rapidly, as though rejoiced
at the words which he had been looking for for some time
and had finally found.
Princess Mirya heard his words, but they had no other
meaning for her except to prove how far he now was from
everything living.
What is the use of talking about me ?" she said,
calmly, casting a glance at Natasha.
Conscious of this look, Natasha did not glance at her.
Again all were silent.
Andre, you want Princess Mirya suddenly said,
with a trembling voice, "you want to see your son ? He
has been talking about you all the time."
Prince Andr6y now for the first time gave a scarcely
perceptible smile, but Princess Marya, who knew his face
so well, saw in terror that it was not a smile of joy, nor
of tenderness for his son, but of soft, meek derision at
Princess MArya's final attempt, as she thought, at bring-
ing him back to his senses.
"Yes, I shall be glad to see him. Is he well ?"
When Nikolay was brought to Prince Andr6y, and,
frightened, looked at his father and did not weep, because
no one else wept, Prince Andrdy kissed him and was
obviously at a loss what to say to him.
When the boy was taken away again, Princess M4rya
once more walked over to her brother and, unable to
restrain herself any longer, burst out into tears.
He looked fixedly at her.
"Are you weeping on account of my son?" he
Princess Marya, weeping, gave an affirmative nod with
her head.
Marie, you know the Gos- but he suddenly grew


"What are you saying ? "
"Nothing. You must not weep here," he said, looking
at her with the same cold glance.

When Princess Marya began to weep, he understood
that she was weeping because his son would be left with-
out a father. Making a great effort over himself, he tried
to return to life, and he transferred himself to their point
of view.
"Yes, it must seem pitiful to them!" he thought.
"But how simple it all is !"
"The fowls of the air sow not, neither do they reap,
but your heavenly Father feedeth them," he said to him-
self, and wanted to say the same to Princess Marya, but
no, they will understand it in their own way, they will
not understand it! They cannot understand that all the
feelings which they value so much, all, all our thoughts,
which seem so important to us, are not necessary. We
,cannot understand each other!" and he kept silence.

Prince Andr4y's little son was seven years old. He
'could hardly read, and he knew nothing. After that day
he acquired much knowledge, observation, and experience;
but, if he had even then possessed all those qualities which
he later acquired, he could not have understood the whole
significance of the scene, which he had observed between
his father, Princess Marya, and Natasha, better or more
profoundly than he understood it then. He understood
everything and, without weeping, left the room, silently
walked over to Natasha, who followed him out, and tim-
idly looked at her with his pensive and beautiful eyes.
His raised ruby upper lip quivered, and he leaned his
head down to her and burst out weeping.
From that day on he avoided Desalles and the countess,
who caressed him, and either sat alone, or timidly went
:up to Princess Marya or to Natasha, to whom, it seemed,


he took a greater liking than to his aunt, and softly and
timidly made up to them.
Upon leaving Prince Andrey, Princess Marya fully
comprehended what NatAsha's face was telling her. She
no longer said anything to Natdsha about the hope of
saving his life. She took turns with her at his divan,
and did not weep, but constantly prayed and turned her
soul to that Eternal and Incomprehensible One, whose
presence was so manifest over the dying man.


PRINCE ANDRAY not only knew that he was going to
die, but he also felt that he was dying, that he was half-
dead already. He experienced the consciousness of an
estrangement from everything worldly and of a joyous
and strange facility of existence. Without hurrying or
becoming agitated, he waited for what was in store for
him. That threatening, eternal, unknown, and remote
something, the presence of which he had always felt
during his whole life, now was near to him, and,-on
account of that strange facility of existence which he
experienced, was almost comprehensible and palpable
to him.

Formerly he had been afraid of the end. He had twice
experienced that terrible and tormenting feeling of the
terror of death, the end, but now he did not under-
stand it.
The first time he had experienced that sensation when
the grenade whirled in front of him like a top, and he
looked at the field, the bushes, and the sky, and knew
that death was before him. When he awoke after having
received the wound, and when in his soul, as though freed
from the trammelling fetters of life, there immediately
budded the flower of an eternal, free love, which was
independent of this life, he no longer was afraid of death,
and did not think of it.
The more he, in those lonesome hours of his suffering
and half-delirium, which he passed after being wounded,


reflected on the new, freshly revealed principle of eternal
love, the more he, without knowing it, renounced all
earthly existence. To love everything and everybody,
always to sacrifice himself for love, meant to him never
to love and not to live this earthly life. The more he
brooded on this principle of love, the more he renounced
life, and the more completely he destroyed that terrible
barrier which stands without love between life and death.
When he, during this early time, thought of his imminent
death, he said to himself: "Well, what of it? So much
the better."
But after that night at Mytishchi, when in his semi-
delirium appeared the one he had wanted so much, and
he, pressing her hand to his lips, wept quiet tears of joy,
the love for that woman imperceptibly stole into his heart
and called him back to life, and he was assailed by joy-
ful and agitating thoughts. As he recalled that minute at
the ambulance where he had seen KurAgin, he no longer
could return to that feeling: he was tormented by the
question whether he was alive or not; but he did not
dare to ask it.
His illness went on in its physical order, but that which
Nat6sha had called "this happened to him" had taken
place two days before the arrival of Princess Mirya. It
was that last, moral struggle between life and death, in
which death had carried away the victory. It was the
unexpected consciousness of his still clinging to life,
which presented itself in his love for Natasha, and the
last vanquished attack of terror before the unknown.
It was in the evening. As always after noon, he was
in a slightly feverish state, and his ideas were quite clear.
S6nya was sitting at the table. He was dozing. Sud-
denly he was seized by a sensation of happiness.
/ "Ah, she has come in !" he thought.
Indeed, in S6nya's place sat Nat6sha, who had just
come in with inaudible steps.


Ever since she had begun to tend on him, he had expe-
rienced that physical sensation of nearness. She was
sitting on a chair, sidewise toward him, screening from
him the candle-light, and knitting a stocking. (She had
learned to knit since she had heard Prince Andrdy say
that no one could so well tend on the sick as old nurses
who knitted stockings, and that there was something
soothing in the knitting of a stocking.) Her thin fingers
swiftly moved the knitting-needles, which now and then
struck against each other, and he could clearly see the
pensive profile of her drooping face. She made a motion,
the ball had rolled down on the floor. She shuddered,
looked at him, and, shielding the candle with her hand,
bent with a cautious, flexible, and precise motion, picked
up the ball, and sat back in her old position.
He looked at her without stirring, and he saw that
after her motion she ought to draw a deep breath, but she
did not dare to do so and only gasped cautiously. In the
Tr6itsa monastery they had spoken of their past, and he
had told her that, if he should remain alive, he would
eternally thank God for his wound, which had brought
them together again; but since that time he had never
again mentioned the future.
Could it be, or not ?" he now thought, looking at her
and listening to the light steel sound of the needles. "Is
it possible fate has brought us so strangely together only
that I should die? Is it possible the truth of life has
been revealed to me only that I may live in falsehood ?
I love her more than anything in the world. But what
am I to do, since I love her ?" he said to himself, and he
suddenly uttered a groan, a habit he had acquired dur-
ing his suffering.
When Natasha heard this sound, she put down the
stocking, bent closer down to him, and suddenly, when
she noticed his luminous eyes, walked over to him with
light footsteps and bent over him.

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