 Chapter 1 of War and Peace by Leo Tolstoy, translated by Elmer and Louise Maud. Book 2 This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org Recording by Gesina. War and Peace by Leo Tolstoy. Book 2. Chapter 1 In October 1805, a Russian army was occupying the villages and towns of the Archduchy of Austria. And yet other regiments, freshly arriving from Russia, were settling near the fortress of Braunau and burdening the inhabitants on whom they were quartered. Braunau was the headquarters of the commander-in-chief, Kutuzov. On October 11th 1805, one of the infantry regiments that had just reached Braunau had halted half a mile from the town, waiting to be inspected by the commander-in-chief. Despite the un-Russian appearance of the locality and surroundings, fruit gardens, stone fences, tiled roofs and hills in the distance, and despite the fact that the inhabitants, who gazed with curiosity at the soldiers, were not Russians, the regiment had just the appearance of any Russian regiment preparing for an inspection anywhere in the heart of Russia. On the evening of the last day's march, an order had been received that the commander-in-chief would inspect the regiment on the march. Though the words of the order were not clear to the regimental commander, and the question arose whether the troops were to be in marching order or not, it was decided at the consultation between the battalion commanders to present the regiment in parade order on the principle that it is always better to bow too low than not bow low enough. So the soldiers, after a 20-mile march, were kept mending and cleaning all night long, without closing their eyes, while the agitants and company commanders calculated and reckoned, and by mourning the regiment, instead of the straggling disorderly crowd it had been on its last march the day before, presented a well-ordered array of 2,000 men, each of whom knew his place and his duty, had every button and every strap in place, and shone with cleanliness. And not only externally was all in order, but had it pleased the commander-in-chief to look under the uniforms he would have found on every man a clean shirt, and in every knapsack the appointed number of articles, all soap and all, as the soldiers say. There was only one circumstance concerning which no one could be at ease. It was the state of the soldiers' boots. More than half the men's boots were unhulled, but this defect was not due to any fault of the regimental commander, for in spite of repeated demands boots had not been issued by the Austrian Commissariat, and the regiment had marched some 700 miles. The commander of the regiment was an elderly, choleric, stout, sick-set general, with grizzled eyebrows and whiskers, and wider from chest to back than across the shoulders. He had on a brand new uniform showing the creases where it had been folded, and sick-goed epaulettes, which seemed to stand rather than lie down on his massive shoulders. He had the air of a man happily performing one of the most solemn duties of his life. He walked about in front of the line, and at every step pulled himself up, slightly arching his back. It was plain that the commander admired his regiment, rejoiced in it, and that his whole mind was engrossed by it. Yet his strut seemed to indicate that, besides military matters, social interests, and the fair sex, occupied no small part of his thoughts. Well, Mikhail Mitrovich, sir? He said, addressing one of the battalion commanders, who smilingly pressed forward. It was plain that they both felt happy. We had our hands full last night. However, I think the regiment is not a bad one, eh? The battalion commander perceived the jovial irony, and laughed. It would not be turned off the field, even on the Tsaretsen meadow. What? asked the commander. At that moment, on the road from the town on which the signalers had been posted, two men appeared on horseback. They were in aid de Komp, followed by a Cossack. The aid de Komp was sent to confirm the order which had not been clearly worded the day before, namely that the commander-in-chief wished to see the regiment just in the state in which it had been on the march, in their great coats and packs, and without any preparation whatever. A member of the Hofkriegsrat from Vienna had come to Kutuzov, the day before with proposals and demands for him to join up with the army of the Archduke Ferdinand and Mack, and Kutuzov. Not considering this junction advisable meant, among other arguments in support of his view, to show the Austrian general the wretched state in which the troops arrived from Russia. With this object he intended to meet the regiment, so the worse the condition it was in, the better pleased the commander-in-chief would be. Though the aid de Komp did not know these circumstances, he nevertheless delivered the definite order that the men should be in their great coats and in marching order, and that the commander-in-chief would otherwise be dissatisfied. On hearing this the regimental commander hung his head, silently shrugged his shoulders and spread out his arms with a choleric gesture. A fine mess we've made of it, he remarked. There now, didn't I tell you, Mikhail Mitrich, that if it was said on the march it met in great coats? said he reproachfully to the battalion commander. Oh my God! he added, stepping resolutely forward. Company commanders! he shouted in a voice accustomed to command. Sergeant Major, how soon will he be here? He asked the aid de Komp with a respectful politeness evidently relating to the personage he was referring to. In an hour's time, I should say, shall we have time to change clothes? I don't know, General. The regimental commander, going up to the line himself, ordered the soldiers to change into their great coats. The company commanders ran off to their companies. The sergeant's major began bustling. The great coats were not in a very good condition, and instantly the squares that had up to then been in regular order and silent began to sway and stretch and hum with voices. On all sides, soldiers were running to and fro, throwing up their knapsacks with a jerk of their shoulders and pulling the straps over their heads, unstrapping their overcoats and drawing the sleeves on with upraised arms. In half an hour all was again in order. Only the squares had become grey instead of black. The regimental commander walked with his jerky steps to the front of the regiment and examined it from a distance. Whatever is this? This! he shouted in stead still. Commander of the third company, commander of the third company wanted by the general, commander to the general, third company to the commander. The words passed along the lines and an adjutant ran to look for the missing officer. When the egobot misrepeated words had reached their destination in a cry of, the general to the third company, the missing officer, appeared from behind his company, and though he was a middle-aged man and not in the habit of running, trotted awkwardly stumbling on his toes toward the general. The captain's face showed the uneasiness of a schoolboy who is told to repeat a lesson he has not learned. Spots appeared on his nose, the redness of which was evidently due to intemperance, and his mouth twitched nervously. The general looked the captain up and down as he came up panting, slackening his pace as he approached. You will soon be dressing your men in petticoats. What is this? shouted the regimental commander, thrusting forward his jaw and pointing at a soldier in the ranks of the third company in a great coat of bluish cloth which contrasted with the others. What have you been after? The commander-in-chief is expected and you leave your place? I'll teach you to dress the men in fancy coats for a parade. The commander of the company, with his eyes fixed on his superior, pressed two fingers more and more rigidly to his cap, as if in this pressure lay his only hope of salvation. Well, why don't you speak? Whom have you got there dressed up as a Hungarian? Said the commander with an austere jive. Your Excellency. Well, Your Excellency, what? Your Excellency, what about your Excellency? Nobody knows. Your Excellency, it's the officer Dolokov, who has been reduced to the ranks. Said the captain softly. Well, has he been degraded into a field marshal or into a soldier? If a soldier he should be dressed in regulation uniform like the others. Your Excellency, you gave him leave yourself on the march. Gave him leave? Leave? That's just like you young men. Said the regimental commander, cooling down a little. Leave indeed. Once there's a word to you and you, what? He added with renewed irritation. I beg you to dress your men decently. And the commander, turning to look at the adjutant, directed his jerky steps down the line. He was evidently pleased at his own display of anger and walking up to the regiment, wished to find a further excuse for wrath. Having snapped at an officer for an unpolished badge, at another because his line was not straight, he reached the third company. How are you standing? Where's your leg? Your leg! shouted the commander with a tone of suffering in his voice. While there were still five men between him and Dolukov with his bluish-gray uniform. Dolukov slowly straightened his bent knee, looking straight with his clear, insolent eyes in the general's face. Why a blue coat? Off with it. Sergeant Major changed his coat the rest he did not finish. General, I must obey orders, but I am not bound to endure, Dolukov hurriedly interrupted. No talking in the ranks, no talking, no talking! Not bound to endure insults, Dolukov concluded in loud ringing tones. The eyes of the general and the soldier met. The general became silent, angrily pulling down his tight scarf. I request you to have the goodness to change your coat," he said as he turned away. End of Chapter 1 Read by Gesina in April 2007 Attention! shouted the regimental commander in a soul-shaking voice, which expressed joy for himself, severity for the regiment, and welcome to the regiment. The regiment fluttered like a bird preening its plumage and became motionless. Attention! shouted the regimental commander in a soul-shaking voice, which expressed joy for himself, severity for the regiment, and welcome for the approaching chief. Along the broad country road, edged on both sides by trees, came a high, light-blue Viennese Kalash, slightly creaking on its springs and drawn by six horses at a smart trot. Behind the Kalash galloped the suite and a convoy of croats. Beside Kutuzov sat an Austrian general in a white uniform that looked strange among the Russian black ones. The Kalash stopped in front of the regiment. Kutuzov and the Austrian general were talking in low voices and Kutuzov smiled slightly as treading heavily he stepped down from the carriage just as if those two thousand men breathlessly gazing at him and the regimental commander did not exist. The word of command rang out and again the regiment quivered, as with a jingling sound it presented arms. Then amidst a dead silence the feeble voice of the commander-in-chief was heard. The regiment roared, health to your excellency! And again all became silent. At first Kutuzov stood still while the regiment moved. Then he and the general in white, accompanied by the suite, walked between the ranks. From the way the regimental commander saluted the commander-in-chief and devoured him with his eyes drawing himself up obsequiously and from the way he walked through the ranks behind the generals bending forward and hardly able to restrain his jerky movements and from the way he darted forward at every word or gesture of the commander-in-chief it was evident that he performed his duty as a subordinate with even greater zeal than his duty as a commander. Thanks to the strictness and aciduity of its commander, the regiment, in comparison with others that reached Branal at the same time was in splendid condition. There were only two hundred seventeen sick and stragglers. Everything was in good order except the boots. Kutuzov walked through the ranks, sometimes stopping to say a few friendly words to officers he had known in the Turkish War, sometimes also to the soldiers. Looking at their boots, he several times shook his head sadly, pointing them out to the Austrian general with an expression which seemed to say that he was not blaming anyone but could not help noticing what a bad state of things it was. The regimental commander ran forward on each such occasion, fearing to miss a single word of the commander-in-chiefs regarding the regiment. Behind Kutuzov, at a distance that allowed every softly spoken word to be heard, followed some twenty men of his suite. These gentlemen talked among themselves and sometimes laughed. Nearest of all to the commander-in-chief walked a handsome adjutant. This was Prince Bulkonsky. Beside him was his comrade Nezvitsky, a tall staff officer, extremely stout with a kindly, smiling, handsome face and moist eyes. Nezvitsky could hardly keep from laughter provoked by a swirly hussar officer who walked beside him. This hussar, with a grave face and without a smile or a change in the expression of his fixed eyes, watched the regimental commanders back and mimicked his every movement. Each time the commander started and bent forward, the hussar started and bent forward in exactly the same manner. Nezvitsky laughed and nudged the others to make them look at the wag. Kutuzov walked slowly and languidly past thousands of eyes which were starting from their sockets to watch the chief. On reaching the third company he suddenly stopped. His suite, not having expected this, involuntarily came closer to him. Ah! Timokin! he said, recognizing the red-nosed captain who had been reprimanded on account of the blue great-cout. One would have thought it impossible for a man to stretch himself more than Timokin had done when he was reprimanded by the regimental commander. But now that the commander-in-chief addressed him, he drew himself up such an extent that it seemed he could not have sustained it had the commander-in-chief continued to look at him, and so Kutuzov, who evidently understood his case and wished him nothing but good, quickly turned away, a scarcely perceptible smile flitting over his scarred and puffy face. Another is-mailed comrade, he said, a brave officer. Are you satisfied with him? he asked the regimental commander. And the latter, unconscious that he was being reflected in the hussar officer as in a looking-glass, started, moved forward, and answered, Highly satisfied your excellency. We all have our weaknesses, said Kutuzov, smiling and walking away from him. He used to have a predilection for Bacchus. The regimental commander was afraid he might be blamed for this and did not answer. The hussar at that moment noticed the face of the red-nosed captain and his drawn-in stomach and mimicked his expression and pose with such exactitude that Nezvitsky could not help laughing. Kutuzov turned round. The officer evidently had complete control of his face, and while Kutuzov was turning, managed to make a grimace and then assume a most serious, deferential and innocent expression. The third company was the last, and Kutuzov pondered, apparently trying to recollect something. Prince Andrew stepped forward from among the sweet and said in French, You told me to remind you of the officer Dalikov, reduced to the ranks in this regiment. Where is Dalikov? asked Kutuzov. Dalikov, who had already changed into a soldier's grey-grade coat, did not wait to be called. The shapely figure of the fair-haired soldier, with his clear blue eyes, stepped forward from the ranks, went up to the commander-in-chief, and presented arms. Have you a complaint to make? Kutuzov asked, with a slight frown. This is Dalikov, said Prince Andrew. Ah! said Kutuzov. I hope this will be a lesson for you. Do your duty. The emperor is gracious, and I shan't forget you if you deserve well. The clear blue eyes looked at the commander-in-chief, just as boldly as they had looked at the regimental commander, seeming by their expression to tear open the veil of convention that separates a commander-in-chief so widely from a private. One thing I ask of your excellency, Dalikov said in his firm, ringing, deliberate voice, I ask an opportunity to atone for my fault, and prove my devotion to His Majesty the Emperor and to Russia. Kutuzov turned away, with the same smile of the eyes with which he had turned from Captain Timokin, again flitted over his face. He turned away with a grimace as if to say that everything Dalikov had said to him, and everything he could say had long been known to him, that he was weary of it, and it was not at all what he wanted. He turned away and went to the carriage. The regiment broke up into companies, and went to their appointed quarters near Browno, where they hoped to receive boots and clothes, and to rest after their hard marches. You won't bear me a grudge, Proctor Ignatich, said the regimental commander, overtaking the third company on its way to its quarters, and riding up to Captain Timokin, who was walking in front. The regimental commanders faced now that the inspection was happily over, beamed with irrepressible delight. It's in the Emperor's service, it can't be helped. One is sometimes a bit hasty on parade. I am the first to apologize, you know me. He was very pleased, and he held out his hand to the Captain. Don't mention it, General, as if I'd be so bold, replied the Captain, his nose-growing redder, as he gave a smile which showed where two front teeth were missing that had been knocked out by the butt-end of a gun at Ismail. And tell Mr. Dolokov that I won't forget him. He may be quite easy. And tell me, please, I've been meaning to ask. How is it to ask? How is he behaving himself? And in general, as far as the service goes, he is quite punctilious, your Excellency, but his character, said Timokin. And what about his character, asked the regimental commander? It's different on different days, answered the Captain. One day he is sensible, well-educated, and good-natured, and the next he's a wild beast. In Poland, if you please, he nearly killed a Jew. Oh, well, well, remarked the regimental commander. Still, one must have pity on a young man in misfortune. You know he has important connections. Well, then, you just, I will, your Excellency, said Timokin, showing by his smile that he understood his commander's wish. Well, of course, of course. The regimental commander sought out Dolokov in the ranks, and, reigning in his horse, said to him, after the next affair, appellettes. Dolokov looked round but did not say anything, nor did the mocking smile on his lips change. Well, that's all right, continued the regimental commander. A cup of vodka for the men from me, he added, so that the soldiers could hear. I thank you all, God be praised! And he rode past that company and overtook the next one. Well, he's really a good fellow, one can serve under him, said Timokin, to the subaltern beside him. In a word, a hearty one, said the subaltern, laughing. The regimental commander was nicknamed the King of Hearts. The cheerful mood of their officers after the inspection infected the soldiers. The company marched on gaily. The soldiers' voices could be heard on every side. And they said Kutuzov was blind of one eye? And so he is, quite blind. No, friend, he is sharper eyed than you are. Boots and leg-bands, he noticed everything. When he looked at my feet, friend, well, thanks I. And that other one with him, the Austrian, looked as if he were smeared with chalk, as white as flour. I suppose they polish him up as they do the guns. I say, Fetishon, did he say when the battles are to begin? You were near him. Everybody said that Bonaparte himself was at Browno. Bonaparte himself, just listen to the fool. What he doesn't know. The Prussians are up in arms now. The Austrians, you see, are putting them down. When they've been put down, the war with Bonaparte will begin. And he says Bonaparte is in Browno. Shows you're a fool. You'd better listen more carefully. What devils these quarter-masters are? See, the fifth company is turning into the village already. They will have their buckwheat cooked before we reach our quarters. Give me a biscuit, you devil. And did you give me tobacco yesterday? That's just it, friend. Ah, well, never mind, here you are. They might call a halt here, or we'll have to do another four miles without eating. Wasn't it fine when those Germans gave us lifts? You just sit still and are drawn along. And here, friend, the people are quite beggarly. There they all seem to be Poles, all under the Russian crown. But here they're all regular Germans. Singers to the front, came the captain's orders. And from the different ranks some twenty men ran to the front. A drummer, their leader, turned round, facing the singers, and flourishing his arm began a long drawn-out soldier song, commencing with the words, Morning dawned, the sun was rising, and concluding, on then brothers, on to glory, led by Father Kaminsky. This song had been composed in the Turkish campaign, and now being sung in Austria, the only change being that the words, Father Kaminsky, were replaced by Father Kutuzov. Having jerked out these last words as soldiers do, and waved their arms as if flinging something to the ground, the drummer, a lean, handsome soldier of forty, looked sternly at the singers and screwed up his eyes. Then having satisfied himself that all eyes were fixed on him, he raised both arms as if carefully lifting some invisible but precious object above his head, and, holding it there for some seconds, suddenly flung it down and began, O my bower, O my bower! O my bower knew, chimed in, twenty voices, and the castanet player, in spite of the burden of his equipment, rushed out to the front, and, walking backwards before the company, jerked his shoulders and flourished his castanets as if threatening someone. The soldiers, swinging their arms and keeping time spontaneously, marched with long steps. Behind the company the sound of wheels, the creaking of springs, and the tramp of horses hooves were heard. Kutuzov and his suite were returning to the town. The commander-in-chief made a sign that the men should continue to march at ease, and he and all his suite showed pleasure at the sound of the singing and the sight of the dancing soldier and the gay and smartly marching men. In the second file from the right flank, beside which the carriage passed the company, a blue-eyed soldier involuntarily attracted notice. It was Dalikov marching with particular grace and boldness in time to the song, and looking at those driving past as if he pitied all who were not at that moment marching with the company. The hussar-cornet of Kutuzov's suite which mimicked the regimental commander, fell back from the carriage and rode up to Dalikov. Hussar-cornet Zerkov had at one time in Petersburg belonged to the wild set led by Dalikov. Zerkov had met Dalikov abroad as a private and had not seen fit to recognize him. But now that Kutuzov had spoken to the gentleman-ranker, he addressed him with the cordiality of an old friend. "'My dear fellow, how are you?' said he through the singing, making his horse keep pace with the company. "'How am I?' Dalikov answered coldly. "'I am as you see.' The lively song gave a special flavor to the tone of free and easy gaiety with which Zerkov spoke and to the intentional coldness of Dalikov's reply. "'And how do you get on with the officers?' inquired Zerkov. "'All right, they are good fellows. "'And how have you wriggled on to the staff?' "'I was attached, I'm on duty.' Both were silent. "'She let the hawk fly upward from her wide right sleeve,' went the song, arousing an involuntary sensation of courage and cheerfulness. Their conversation would probably have been different but for the effect of that song. "'Is it true that Austrians have been beaten?' asked Dalikov. "'The devil only knows. They say so.' "'I'm glad,' answered Dalikov briefly and clearly as the song demanded. "'I say, come round some evening and we'll have a game of pharaoh,' said Zerkov. "'Why, have you too much money?' "'Do come.' "'I can't, I'm sworn not to. "'I won't drink and won't play till I get reinstated.' "'Well, that's only till the first engagement. "'We shall see.' They were again silent. "'Come, if you need anything. "'One can at least be of use on the staff.' Dalikov smiled. "'Don't trouble. If I want anything, I won't beg. I'll take it.' "'Well, never mind I only and I only. "'Goodbye, good health.' "'It's a long, long way to my native land.' Zerkov touched his horse with the spurs. It pranced excitedly from foot to foot, uncertain with which to start, then settled down, galloped, passed the company, and overtook the carriage, still keeping time to the song. End of CHAPTER II This recording is in the public domain. War and Peace. Book II. CHAPTER III. Read for LibriVox.org by Susan Denney. On returning from the review, Kutasov took the Austrian general into his private room, and, calling his adjutant, asked for some papers relating to the condition of the troops on their arrival and the letters that had come from the Archduke Ferdinand, who was in command of the advanced army. Prince Andrew Balkansky came into the room with the required papers. Kutasov and the Austrian member of the Hofkriegsrat were sitting at the table on which a plan was spread out. "'Ah,' said Kutasov glancing at Balkansky, as if by this exclamation he was asking the adjutant to wait, and he went on with the conversation in French. "'All I can say, General,' said he with a pleasant elegance of expression and intonation, that obliged one to listen to each deliberately spoken word. It was evident that Kutasov himself listened with pleasure to his own voice. "'All I can say, General, is that if the matter depended on my personal wishes, the will of his Majesty Emperor Francis would have been fulfilled long ago. I should long ago have joined the Archduke. And believe me, on my honor, that to me personally it would be a pleasure to hand over the supreme command of the army into the hands of a better informed and more skillful general, of whom Austria has so many, and to lay down all this heavy responsibility. But circumstances are sometimes too strong for us, General.' And Kutasov smiled in a way that seemed to say, "'You are quite at liberty not to believe me, and I don't even care whether you do or not, but you have no grounds for telling me so. And that is the whole point.' The Austrian general looked dissatisfied, but had no option but to reply in the same tone. "'On the contrary,' he said in a quarrelous and angry tone that contrasted with his flattering words, and on the contrary, your Excellency's participation in the common action is highly valued by His Majesty. But we think the present delay is depriving the splendid Russian troops and their commander of the laurels they have been accustomed to win in their battles.' He concluded his evidently pre-arranged sentence. Kutasov bowed with the same smile. "'But that is my conviction, and judging by the last letter with which His Highness Duke Ferdinand has honored me, I imagine that the Austrian troops, under the direction of so skillful a leader as General Mack, have by now already gained a decisive victory and no longer need our aid,' said Kutasov. The general frowned. Though there was no definite news of an Austrian defeat, there were many circumstances confirming the unfavorable rumors that were afloat, and so Kutasov's suggestion of an Austrian victory sounded much like irony. But Kutasov went on blandly smiling with the same expression which seemed to say that he had a right to suppose so, and in fact the last letter he had received from Mack's army informed him of a victory and stated strategically the position of the army was very favorable. "'Give me that letter,' said Kutasov, turning to Prince Andrew. "'Please have a look at it.' And Kutasov, with an ironical smile about the corners of his mouth read to the Austrian general the following passage in German from the Archduke Ferdinand's letter. "'We have fully concentrated forces of nearly 70,000 men with which to attack and defeat the enemy should he cross the Lek. "'Also, as we are masters of Ulm, we cannot be deprived of the advantage of commanding both sides of the Danube so that should the enemy not cross the Lek we can cross the Danube. "'Throw ourselves on his line of communications, recross the river, lower down and frustrate his intention should he try to direct his whole force against our faithful ally. "'We shall therefore confidently await the moment when the Imperial Russian army will be fully equipped and shall then, in conjunction with it, easily find a way to prepare for the enemy the fate he deserves.' Kutasov sighed deeply on finishing this paragraph and looked at the member of the Hofkriegsrat mildly and attentively. "'But you know the wise Maxim, your Excellency, advising one to expect the worst,' said the Austrian general, evidently wishing to have done with jests and to come to business. He involuntarily looked around at the aid to camp. "'Excuse me, General,' interrupted Kutasov, also turning to Prince Andrew. "'Look here, my dear fellow. "'Get from Kozlowski all the reports from our scouts. "'Here are two letters from Count Nostitz and here is one from his highness the Archduke Ferdinand and here are these,' he said, handing him several papers. "'Make a neat memorandum in French out of all this, showing all the news we have had of the movements of the Austrian army, and then give it to his Excellency.' Prince Andrew bowed his head in token of having understood from the first not only what had been said, but also what Kutasov would have liked to tell him. He gathered up the papers and with a bow to both, stepped softly over the carpet and went out into the waiting room. Though not much time had passed since Prince Andrew had left Russia, he had changed greatly during that period. In the expression of his face in his movements, in his walk, scarcely a trace was left of his former affected languor and indolence. He now looked like a man who has time to think of the impression he makes on others, but is occupied with agreeable and interesting work. His face expressed more satisfaction with himself and those around him. His smile and glance were brighter and more attractive. Kutasov, whom he had overtaken in Poland, had received him very kindly, promised not to forget him, distinguished him above the other agitants, and had taken him to Vienna and given him the more serious commissions. From Vienna Kutasov wrote to his old comrade, Prince Andrew's father, Your son bids fair to become an officer distinguished by his industry firmness and expedition. I consider myself fortunate to have such a subordinate by me. On Kutasov's staff, among his fellow officers and in the army generally, Prince Andrew had, as he had had in Petersburg society, two quite opposite reputations. Some, a minority, acknowledged him to be different from themselves and from everyone else, expected great things of him, listened to him, admired and imitated him, and with him Prince Andrew was natural and pleasant. Others, the majority, disliked him and considered him conceited, cold and disagreeable. But among these people Prince Andrew knew how to take his stand so that they respected and even feared him. Coming out of Kutasov's room into the waiting room with the papers in his hand, Prince Andrew came up to his comrade, the aide-decamp on duty, Koslovsky, who was sitting at the window with a book. Well, Prince, asked Koslovsky, I am ordered to write a memorandum explaining why we are not advancing. And why is it? Prince Andrew shrugged his shoulders. Any news from Mack? No. If it were true that he has been beaten, news would have come. Probably, said Prince Andrew, moving toward the outer door. But at that instant a tall Austrian general in a great coat with the order of Maria Teresa on his neck and a black bandage round his head, who had evidently just arrived, entered quickly, slamming the door. Prince Andrew stopped short. Commander-in-chief Kutasov, said the newly arrived general, speaking quickly with a harsh German accent, looking to both sides and advancing straight toward the inner door. The commander-in-chief is engaged, said Koslovsky, going hurriedly up to the unknown general and blocking his way to the door. Whom shall I announce? The unknown general looked disdainfully down at Koslovsky, who was rather short, as if surprised that anyone should not know him. The commander-in-chief is engaged, repeated Koslovsky, calmly. The general's face clouded, his lips quivered and trembled. He took out a notebook, hurriedly scribbled something in pencil, tore out the leaf, gave it to Koslovsky, stepped quickly to the window, and threw himself into a chair gazing at those in the room as if asking, why do they look at me? When he lifted his head, stretched his neck as if he intended to say something, but immediately, with affected indifference, began to hum to himself, producing a queer sound which immediately broke off. The door of the private room opened and Kutasov appeared in the doorway. The general, with the bandaged head, bent forward as though running away from some danger, and, making long quick strides with his thin legs, went up to Kutasov. Vous voyez le malheureux Mac? He uttered in a broken voice. Kutasov's face, as he stood in the open doorway, remained perfectly immobile for a few moments. Then wrinkles ran over his face like a wave, and his forehead became smooth again. He bowed his head respectfully, closed his eyes, silently let Mac enter his room before him, and closed the door himself behind him. The report which had been circulated that the Austrians had been beaten and that the whole army had surrendered at Ulm proved to be correct. Within half an hour, agitants had been sent in various directions with orders which showed that the Russian troops who had hitherto been inactive would also soon have to meet the enemy. Prince Andrew was one of those rare staff officers whose chief interests lay in the general progress of the war. When he saw Mac and heard the details of his disaster, he understood that half the campaign was lost, understood all the difficulties of the Russian army's position, and vividly imagined what awaited it and the part he would have to play. Involuntarily he felt a joyful agitation at the thought of the humiliation of arrogant Austria, and that in a week's time he might, perhaps, see and take part in the first Russian encounter with the French since Suvorov met them. He feared that Bonaparte's genius might outweigh all the courage of the Russian troops and at the same time could not admit the idea of his hero being disgraced. Excited and irritated by these thoughts, Prince Andrew went toward his room to write to his father to whom he wrote every day. In the corridor he met Nesvitsky, with whom he shared a room and the wag, Zerkov. They were, as usual, laughing. Why are you so glum, asked Nesvitsky, noticing Prince Andrew's pale face and glittering eyes? There's nothing to be gay about, answered Balkansky. Just as Prince Andrew met Nesvitsky and Zerkov, there came toward them from the other end of the corridor Strauch, an Austrian general, who, on Kudasov's staff, in charge of the provisioning of the Russian army, and the member of the Hofskriegsrat who had arrived the previous evening. There was room enough in the wide corridor for the generals to pass the three officers quite easily, but Zerkov, pushing Nesvitsky aside with his arm, said in a breathless voice, They're coming! They're coming! Stand aside! Make way! Please, make way! The generals were passing by, looking as if they wished to avoid embarrassing attentions. On the face of the wag, Zerkov, there suddenly appeared a stupid smile of glee which he seemed unable to suppress. Your excellency, said he in German, stepping forward and addressing the Austrian general, I have the honor to congratulate you. He bowed his head and scraped first with one foot and then with the other awkwardly, like a child at a dancing lesson. The member of the Hofskriegsrat looked at him severely, but, seeing the seriousness of his stupid smile, could not but give him a moment's attention. He screwed up his eyes showing that he was listening. I have the honor to congratulate you. General Mack has arrived. Quite well. Only a little bruised, just here, he added, pointing with a beaming smile to his head. The general frowned, turned away and went on. Gott, wie naiv! said he angrily after he had gone a few steps. Nesvitsky with a laugh threw his arms round Prince Andrew, but Balkansky, turning still paler, pushed him away with an angry look and turned to Zerkov. The nervous irritation aroused by the appearance of Mack, the news of his defeat, and the thought of what lay before the Russian army found vent in anger at Zerkov's untimely jest. If you, sir, choose to make a buffoon of yourself, he said sharply with a slight trembling of the lower jaw. I can't prevent your doing so. But I warn you that if you dare to play the fool in my presence I will teach you to behave yourself. Nesvitsky and Zerkov were so surprised by this outburst that they gazed at Balkansky silently with wide open eyes. What's the matter? I only congratulated them, said Zerkov. I am not jesting with you. Please be silent! cried Balkansky, and taking Nesvitsky's arm he left Zerkov, who did not know what to say. Come! What's the matter, old fellow? said Nesvitsky, trying to soothe him. What's the matter? exclaimed Prince Andrew, standing still in his excitement. Don't you understand that either we are officers serving our Tsar and our country, rejoicing in the successes and grieving at the misfortunes of our common cause, or we are merely lackeys who care nothing for their master's business. 40,000 men massacred and the army of our destroyed allies and you find the word to laugh. He said as if strengthening his views by this French sentence. It is good for a boy of nothing like this individual who made you a friend, but not for you, not for you. Only a hobbledy-hoi could amuse himself in this way, he added in Russian, but pronouncing the word with a French accent, having noticed that Zerkov could still hear him, he waited a moment to see whether the cornet would answer, but he turned and went out of the corridor. End of Chapter 3, recording by Susan Denney. War and Peace, Book II, Chapter 4, read for Liberfox.org by Anna Simon. The Pavlograt Hussars were stationed two miles from Browno, the squadron in which Nikolas Rostov served as a cadet was quartered in the German village of Salsenek. The best quarters in the village were assigned to cavalry captain Denisov, the squadron commander, known throughout the whole cavalry division as Vasca Denisov. Cadet Rostov, ever since he had overtaken the regiment in Poland, had lived with the squadron commander. On October 11th, the day when all was instilled at headquarters over the news of max defeat, the camp-life of the officers of this squadron was proceeding as usual. Denisov, who had been losing at Cards all night, had not yet come home when Rostov rode back early in the morning from a foraging expedition. Rostov, in his cadet uniform, with a jerk to his horse, rode up to the porch, swung his leg over the saddle with a supple youthful movement, stood for a moment in the syrup as if loathed to part from his horse, and at last sprang down and called to his orderly. Ah, Bondarenko, dear friend, said he to the hussar who rushed up headlong to the horse. Walk him up and down, my dear fellow, he continued, with that gay brotherly cordiality which good-hearted young people show to everyone when they are happy. Yes, your Excellency, answered the Ukrainian gaily, tossing his head. Mind, walking up and down well. Another hussar also rushed toward the horse, but Bondarenko had already thrown the reins of the snaffled bridle over the horse's head. It was evident that the cadet was liberal with his tips and that it paid to serve him. Rostov petted the horse's neck and then his flank and lingered for a moment. Splendid, what a horse he'll be, he thought with a smile, and holding up his sabre, his spurs jingling, he ran up the steps of the porch. His landlord, who in a waistcoat and a pointed cap, pitchfork in hand, was clearing manure from the cowhouse, looked out and his face immediately brightened on seeing Rostov. Good morning, good morning! He said, winking with a merry smile, evidently pleased to greet the young man. Are you ready, said Rostov, with the same gay brotherly smile which did not leave his eager face? Get up, Austria! Get up, Russia! Get up, Alexander! said he, quoting words often repeated by the German landlord. The German laughed, came out of the couch-head, pulled off his cap and waving it above his head, cried. Rostov waved his cap above his head like the German and cried, laughing. Though neither the German cleaning his couch-head nor Rostov back with his platoon from foraging for hay had any reason for adjoicing, they looked at each other with joyful delight and brotherly love, whacked their heads in token of their mutual affection and parted smiling. The German returned to his couch-head and Rostov going to the cottage he occupied with Denisov. The master, he asked Lavushka, Denisov's orderly, whom all the regiment knew for a rogue. Hasn't been in since the evening, must have been losing, answered Lavushka. I know by now if he wins he comes back early to brag about it, but if he stays out till morning it means he's lost and will come back in a rage. Will he have coffee? Yes, bring some. Ten minutes later Lavushka brought the coffee. He's coming, said he, now for trouble. Rostov looked out of the window and saw Denisov coming home. Denisov was a small man with a red face, sparkling black eyes and black, tousled moustache and hair. He wore an unfastened cloak, white breeches, hanging down in creases, and a crumpled shaco on the back of his head. He came up to the porch gloomily, hanging his head. Lavushka, he shouted loudly and angrily, take it off, blockhead. Well, I'm taking it off, replied Lavushka's voice. You're up already, said Denisov, entering the room. Long ago, answered Rostov, I've already been for the hay and have seen Frel and Matilda. Really, and I've been losing, brother. I lost yesterday like a damned fool, cried Denisov, not pronouncing his Rs. Such ill luck, such ill luck. As soon as he left, it began and went on. Hello there, tea. Puckering up his face, though smiling and showing his short, strong teeth, he began with stubby fingers of both hands to ruffle up his thick, tangled black hair. And what devil made me go to that? What? An officer nicknamed the rat. He said, rubbing his forehead and whole face with both hands. Just fancy. He didn't let me win a single cart, not one cart. He took the lighted pipe that was offered to him, ripped it in his fist and tapped it on the floor, making the sparks fly while he continued to shout. And when the singles and collars it, as soon as one doubles it, gives the singles and snatches the doubles. He scattered the burning tobacco, smashed the pipe and threw it away. Then he remained silent for a while, and all at once looked cheerfully with his glittering black eyes at Rostov. If at least we had some women here, there's nothing for one to do but drink, if we could only get to fighting soon. Hello, who's there? He said, turning to the door as he heard a tread of heavy boots and the clinking of spurs that came to a stop and the respectful cuff. This quarter-and-quarter master, said Lavrushka, then his face pocketed still more. Wretched, he muttered, throwing down a purse with some gold in it. Rostov, dear fellow, just see how much there is left and shove the purse under the pillow, he said, and went out to the quarter-master. Rostov took the money, and mechanically arranging the old and separate piles began counting them. Ah, Talyanin, how to do? They plucked me last night, came Denisov's voice from the next room. Where? At Baikos? At the rats? I knew it, replied a piping voice, and left then at Talyanin, a small officer of the same squadron entered the room. Rostov thrust the purse under the pillow and shook the damn little hand which was offered him. Talyanin, for some reason, had been transferred from the guards to his campaign. He behaved very well in the regiment, but was not liked. Rostov especially detested him and was unable to overcome or conceal his groundless antipathy to the man. Well, young cavalryman, how is my Ruk behaving? He asked. Ruk was a young horse, Talyanin had sold to Rostov. The lieutenant never looked the man he was speaking to straight in the face. His eyes continually wandered from one object to another. Oh, he's all right, a good horse, answered Rostov, though the horse for which he had paid seven hundred rubles was not worth half that sum. He's begun to go a little lame on the left foreleg, he added. The hoof's cracked, that's nothing. I'll teach you what to do and show you what kind of rivet to use. Yes, please do, said Rostov. I'll show you, I'll show you. It's not a secret, and it's a horse she'll thank me for. Then I'll have it brought round, to give the order. In the passage, Denisov, with a pipe, was squatting on the threshold, facing the quartermaster who was replying to him. On seeing Rostov, Denisov screwed up his face and pointing over his shoulder with his thumb to the room where Talyanin was sitting, he frowned and gave a shudder of disgust. Ah, I don't like that fellow, he said, regardless of the quartermaster's presence. Rostov shrugged his shoulders as much as to say, nor do I, but what's one to do. He returned to Talyanin. Talyanin was sitting in the same indolent pose in which Rostov had left him, rubbing his small white hands. Well, there certainly are disgusting people, thought Rostov as he entered. Have you told them to bring the horse? Asked Talyanin, getting up and looking carelessly about him. I have. Let us go ourselves. I only came round to ask Denisov about yesterday's order. Have you got it, Denisov? Not yet, but where are you off to? I want to teach this young man how to shew a horse, said Talyanin. They went through the porch and into this table. The lieutenant explained how to refit the hoof and went away to his own quarters. When Rostov went back, there was a bottle of vodka and a sausage on the table. Denisov was sitting there, scratching with his pen on a sheet of paper. He looked gloomily in Rostov's face and said, I'm writing to her. He lend his elbows on the table with his pen in his hand and evidently glad of a chance to say quicker in words what he wanted to write, told Rostov the contents of his letter. You see, my friend, he said, we sleep when we don't love. We are children of the dust, but one falls in love and one is a god, one is poor as on the first day of creation. Who's that now? Send him to the devil. I'm busy. He shouted to Lavrushka, who went up to him not in the least abashed. Who should it be? You yourself told him to come. He called the quartermaster for the money. Denisov frowned and was about to shout some reply, but stopped. Wretched business, he muttered to himself. How much is left in the purse? He asked, returning to Rostov. Seven new and three old imperials. Oh, it's Wretched. Well, what are you standing there for? You skirt-crawl. Cool the quartermaster, he shouted to Lavrushka. Please, Denisov, let me lend you some. I have some, you know, said Rostov, blushing. I don't like borrowing from my own fellows. I don't, growled Denisov. But if you won't accept money from me like a comrade, you will offend me. Really, I have some, Rostov repeated. No, I tell you. And Denisov went to the bed to get the purse from under the pillow. Where have you put it, Rostov? Under the lower pillow. It's not there. Denisov threw both pillows on the floor. The purse was not there. That's a miracle. The quartermaster dropped it, said Rostov, picking up the pillows one at a time and shaking them. He pulled off the quilt and shook it. The purse was not there. Dear me, can I have forgotten? No, I remember thinking that you kept it under your head like a treasure, said Rostov. I put it just here. Where is it? he asked, turning to Lavrushka. I haven't been in the room. It must be where you put it. But it isn't. You're always like that. You throw a thing down anywhere and forget it, feeling your pockets. No, if I hadn't thought of it being a treasure, said Rostov. But I remember putting it there. Lavrushka turned all the bedding over, looked under the bed and under the table, searched everywhere and stood still in the middle of the room. Denisov silently watched Lavrushka's movements and when the letter threw up his arms in surprise, saying it was nowhere to be found, Denisov glanced at Rostov. Rostov, you've not been playing schoolboy tricks. Rostov felt Denisov's gaze fixed on him, raised his eyes and instantly dropped them again. All the blood which had seemed congested somewhere below his throat rushed to his face and eyes. He could not draw breath. And there hasn't been anyone in the room except the lieutenant and yourselves. It must be here somewhere, said Lavrushka. Now then, you devil's puppet, look alive and hunt for it, shouted Denisov, suddenly, turning purple and rushing at the man threatening gesture. If the person found I'll flog you, I'll flog you all. Rostov, his eyes avoiding Denisov, began buttering his coat, buckled on the sabre and put on his cap. I must have that purse, I tell you, shouted Denisov, shaking his orderly by the shoulders and knocking him against the wall. Denisov, let him alone. I know who has taken it, said Rostov, going toward the door without raising his eyes. Denisov paused, thought a moment evidently understanding what Rostov hinted at, seized his arm. Nonsense, he cried, and the veins on his forehead and neck stood out like quartz. You're mad, I tell you. I won't allow it. The purse is here. I'll flay this scoundrel alive, and it will be found. I know who has taken it, repeated Rostov in an unsteady voice and went to the door. And I tell you, don't you dare to do it, shouted Denisov, rushing at the cadet to restrain him. But Rostov pulled away his arm and with as much anger as though Denisov or his worst enemy firmly fixed his eyes directly on his face. Do you understand what you're seeing? he said in a trembling voice. There was no one else in the room except myself, so that if it is not so, then he could not finish and ran out of the room. Ah, may the devil take you and everybody, were the last words Rostov heard. Rostov went to Talianin's quarters. The master is not in, he's gone to headquarters, said Talianin's orderly. Has something happened? he added, surprised that the cadets troubled face. No, nothing. You've only just missed him, said the orderly. The headquarters were situated two miles away from Salsenek, and Rostov, without returning home, took a horse and rode there. There was an inn in the village which the officers frequented. They went up to it and saw Talianin's horse at the porch. In the second room of the inn, the lieutenant was sitting over a dish of sausages and a bottle of wine. Ah, you've come here too, young man, he said, smiling and raising his eyebrows. Yes, said Rostov, as if it cost him a great deal to utter the word, and he sat down at the nearest table. Both were silent. There were two Germans and a Russian officer in the room. No one spoke, and the only sounds heard when Talianin had finished his lunch, he took out of his pocket a double purse and, drawing its rings aside with his small, wide turned up fingers, drew out a gold imperial and, lifting his eyebrows, gave it to the waiter. Please be quick, he said. The coin was a new one. Rostov rose and went up to Talianin. Allow me to look at your purse, he said in a low, almost inaudible voice. With shifting eyes but eyebrows still raised, Talianin handed him the purse. Yes, it's a nice purse. Yes, yes, he said, growing suddenly pale and edit. Look at it, young man. Rostov took the purse in his hand, examined it and the money in it and looked at Talianin. The lieutenant was looking about in his usual way and suddenly seemed to grow very merry. If we get to Vienna, I'll get rid of it there, but in these wretched little towns there's nowhere to spend it, said he. Let me have it, young man, I'm going. Rostov did not speak. And you, are you going to have lunch too? They feed you quite decently here, continued Talianin. Now then, let me have it. He stretched out his hand to take hold of the purse. Rostov let go of it. Talianin took the purse and began carelessly slipping it into the pocket of his riding-bridges with his eyebrows lifted and his mouth slightly open, as if to say, yes, yes, I'm putting my purse in my pocket and it's very simple and is no one else's business. Well, young man, he said with a sigh, and from under his lifted brows he glanced into Rostov's eyes. Some flash as of an electric spark shot from Talianin's eyes to Rostov's and back and back again and again in an instant. Come here, said Rostov, catching hold of Talianin's arm and almost dragging him to the window. That money is Denisov's. You took it, he whispered What? How dare you? What? said Talianin. But these words came like a pitch despairing cry and an entreaty for pardon. As soon as Rostov heard them an enormous load of doubt fell from him. He was glad and at the same instant began to pity the miserable man who stood before him, but the task he had begun had to be completed. Heaven only knows what the people here may imagine, said Talianin, taking up his cap and moving toward a small empty room. We must have an explanation. I know it and shall prove it, said Rostov. Every muscle of Talianin's pale, terrified face began to quiver. His eyes still shifted from side to side, but with the downward look not rising to Rostov's face and his sobs were audible. Count, don't ruin a young fellow. Here is his wretched money. Take it. He threw it on the table. Father and mother, Rostov took the money, avoiding Talianin's eyes and went out of the room without a word. But at the door he stopped and then retraced his steps. Oh, God! he said with tears in his eyes. How could you do it? Count, said Talianin, drawing nearer to him. Don't touch me, said Rostov, drawing back. If you need it, take the money. And he threw the purse to him and ran out of the inn. CHAPTER V That same evening there was an animated discussion among the squadron's officers in Dinizov's quarters. And I tell you, Rostov, that you must apologize to the Colonel, said a tall, grisly-haired staff captain with enormous moustaches and many wrinkles on his large features, to Rostov, who was crimson with excitement. The staff captain, Kirsten, had twice been reduced to the ranks for affairs of honour and had twice regained his commission. I will allow no one to call me a liar, cried Rostov. He told me I lied and I told him he lied. And there it rests. He may keep me on duty every day, or may place me under arrest, but no one can make me apologize, because if he, as commander of this regiment, thinks it beneath his dignity to give me satisfaction, then you just wait a moment, my dear fellow, and listen. Interrupted the staff captain in his deep base, calmly stroking his long moustache, you tell the captain in the presence of other officers that an officer has stolen. I'm not to blame that the conversation began in the presence of other officers. Perhaps I ought not to have spoken before them, but I am not a diplomatist. That's why I joined the Hussars, thinking that here one would not need finesse. And he tells me that I am lying. So let him give me satisfaction. That's all right. No one thinks you a coward, but that's not the point. Ask Denizov whether it is not out of the question for a cadet to demand satisfaction of his regimental commander. Denizov sat gloomily biting his moustache and listening to the conversation, evidently with no wish to take part in it. He answered the staff captain's question by a disapproving shake of his head. You speak to the Colonel about this nasty business before other officers, continued the staff captain, and Bogdanovich, the Colonel was called Bogdanovich, shuts you up. He did not shut me up. He said I was telling an untruth. Well, have it so, and you talked a lot of nonsense to him and must apologize. Not on any account, exclaimed Rostov. I did not expect this of you, said the staff captain, seriously and severely. You don't wish to apologize, but, man, it's not only to him but to the whole regiment. All of us. You're to blame all round. The case is this. You ought to have thought the matter over and taken advice, but no. You go and blurt it all straight out before the officers. Now what was the Colonel to do? Have the officer tried and disgrace the whole regiment? Disgrace the whole regiment because of one scoundrel? Is that how you look at it? We don't see it like that. And Bogdanovich was a brick. He told you you were saying what was not true. It's not pleasant, but what's to be done, my dear fellow? You landed yourself in it. And now, when one wants to smooth the thing over, some conceit prevents your apologizing and you wish to make the whole affair public. You are offended at being put on duty a bit, but why not apologize to an old and honorable officer? Whatever Bogdanovich may be. Anyway, he is an honorable and brave old Colonel. You're quick at taking offense, but you don't mind disgracing the whole regiment. The staff captain's voice began to tremble. You have been in the regiment next to no time, my lad. You're here today and tomorrow you'll be appointed adjutant somewhere and can snap your fingers when it is said there are thieves among the Pavlograd officers. Not all the same to us. Am I not right, Denizov? It's not the same. Denizov remained silent and did not move, but occasionally looked with his glittering black eyes at Rostov. You value your own pride and don't wish to apologize, continued the staff captain. But we old fellows who have grown up in and God willing are going to die in the regiment, surprise the honor of the regiment, and Bogdanovich knows it. Oh, we do prize it, old fellow. And all this is not right. It's not right. You may take offense or not, but I always stick to mother truth. It's not right. And the staff captain rose and turned away from Rostov. That's twoo, devil take it, shouted Denizov, jumping up, now then Rostov, growing red and pale alternately, looked first at one officer and then at the other. No, gentlemen. No, you mustn't think. I quite understand. You're wrong to think that of me. For me, for the honor of the regiment, I... Oh, well. I'll show that in action. And for me, the honor of the flag... Well, never mind. I'm to blame. To blame all round. Well, what else do you want? Come. That's right, Count! cried the staff captain, turning round and clapping Rostov on the shoulder with his big hand. I tell you, shouted Denizov, he's a fine fellow. That's better, Count! said the staff captain, beginning to address Rostov by his title. As if in recognition of his confession. Go and apologize, Your Excellency. Yes, go. Gentlemen, I'll do anything. No one shall hear a word from me, said Rostov in an imploring voice. But I can't apologize. By God, I can't. Do what you will. How can I go and apologize like a little boy asking for forgiveness? Denizov began to laugh. It'll be worse for you. Bogdaditch is vindictive. And you'll pay for your obstinacy, said Kirsten. No, on my word it's not obstinacy. I can't describe the feeling. I can't. Well, it's as you like, said the staff captain. And what has become of that scoundrel, he asked Denizov. He has reported himself sick. He's to be struck off the list to Mawau. Mother Denizov. It is an illness. said the staff captain. Illness adopt. He better not cross my path. I'd kill him, shouted Denizov in a bloodthirsty tone. Just then Serkov entered the room. What brings you here? cried the officers, turning to the newcomer. We're to go into action, gentlemen. Mack has surrendered with his whole army. It's not true. I've seen him myself. What? Kill Mack with hands and feet? Into action! Into action! Bring him a bottle for such news. But how did you come here? I've been sent back to the regiment all on account of that devil Mack. An Austrian general complained of me. I congratulated him on Mack's arrival. What's the matter, Rostov? You look as if you'd just come out of a hot bath. Oh, my dear fellow, you're in such a stew here these last two days. The regimental adjutant came in and confirmed the news brought by Serkov. They were under orders to advance next day. We're going into action, gentlemen. Well, thank God we've been sitting here too long. End of chapter 5 This recording is in the public domain. War and Peace Book 2, Chapter 6 Read for LibriVox.org by Kirsten Ferrari Kutuzov fell back toward Vienna destroying behind him the bridges over the rivers in at Brno and Trown near Linn's. On October 23rd the Russian troops were crossing the river Ends. At midday the Russian baggage train, the artillery and columns of troops were defiling through the town of Ends on both sides of the bridge. Rainy autumnal day. The wide expanse that opened out before the hedges on which the Russian batteries stood guarding the bridge was at times veiled by a diaphanous curtain of slanting rain, and then suddenly spread out in the sunlight far distant objects could clearly be seen glittering as though freshly varnished. Down below the little town could be seen with its white red-ripped houses, its cathedral and its bridge, on both sides of which streamed jostling masses of Russian troops. At the bend of the Danube vessels, an island, and a castle with a park surrounded by the waters of the confluence of the Ends and the Danube became visible, and the rocky left bank of the Danube covered with pine forests with a mystic background of green tree tops and bluish gorges. The turrets of a convent stood out beyond a wild virgin pine forest and far away on the other side of the Ends the enemy's horse patrols could be discerned. Among the field guns on the brow of the hill the general in command of the rear guard stood with a staff officer scanning the country through his field glass. A little behind them, Nisvitsky, who had been sent to the rear guard by the commander-in-chief was sitting on the trail of a gun carriage. A Cossack, who accompanied him, had handed him a knapsack and a flask, and Nisvitsky was treating some officers to pies and real doppelkommel. The officers gladly gathered round him, some on their knees, some squatting Turkish fashion on the wet grass. Yes, the Austrian Prince who built that castle was no fool. It's a fine place. Why are you not eating anything, gentlemen?" Nisvitsky was saying. Thank you very much, Prince, answered one of the officers, pleased to be talking to a staff officer of such importance. It's a lovely place. We passed close to the park and saw two deer. And what a splendid house! Look, Prince said another, who would have dearly liked to take another pie but felt shy, and therefore examining the countryside. See, our infantrymen have already got there. Look there in the meadow behind the village. Three of them are dragging something. They'll ransack that castle, he remarked, with evident approval. So they will, said Nisvitsky. No, but what I should like, added he, munching a pie in his moist-lipped, handsome mouth, would be to slip in over there. He pointed with a smile to a turreted nunnery, and his eyes narrowed and gleamed. That would be fine, gentlemen. The officers laughed. Just to flutter the nuns a bit. They say there are Italian girls among them. On my word, I'd give five years of my life for it. They must be feeling dull, too, said one of the bolder officers, laughing. Meanwhile, the staff officer, standing in front, pointed out something to the general, who looked through his field-glass. Yes, so it is, so it is, said the general angrily, lowering the field-glass and shrugging his shoulders. So it is! They'll be fired on the crossing! And why are they dawdling there? On the opposite side the enemy could be seen by the naked eye, and from their battery a milk-white cloud arose. Then came the distant report of a shot, and our troops could be seen hurrying to the crossing. Nesvitzky rose, puffing, and went up to the general, smiling. Would not your excellency like a little refreshment, he said? It's a bad business, said the general, without answering him. Our men have arrived. Hadn't I better ride over your excellency?" asked Nesvitzky. Yes, please do," answered the general, and he reported the order that had already once been given in detail, and tell the Hussars that they are to cross last and to fire the bridge as I ordered, and the inflammable material on the bridge must be reinspected. Very good," answered Nesvitzky. He called the Cossack with his horse, told him to put away the knapsack and flask, and swung his heavy person down the hill. I'll really call in on the nuns," he said to the officers, who watched him smilingly, and he rode off by the winding path down the hill. Now then, let's see how far it will carry, Captain. Just try," said the general, turning to an artillery officer. Have a little fun to pass the time. Crew to your guns," commanded the officer. In a moment the men came running gaily from their campfires and began loading. One came the command. The gun rang out with a deafening metallic roar. And a whistling grenade flew above the heads of our troops below the hill, and fell far short of the enemy, a little smoke showing the spot where it burst. The faces of officers and men brightened up at the sound. Everyone got up and began watching the movements of our troops below as plainly visible as if but a stone's throw away and the movements of the approaching enemy at the same instant the sun came fully out from behind the clouds and the clear sound of the solitary shot and the brilliance of the bright sunshine merged in a single joyous and spirited impression. End of Chapter 6 War and Peace Book 2, Chapter 7 Read for LibriVox.org by Ava Harnick. Two of the enemy's shots had already flown across the bridge where there was a crush. Halfway across stood Prince Nesviski who had alighted from his horse and whose big body was jammed against the railings. He looked back laughing to the Cossack who stood a few steps behind him holding two horses by their bridles. Each time Prince Nesviski tried to move on soldiers and carts pushed him back again and pressed him against the railings and all he could do was to smile. What a fine fellow you are, friend! said the Cossack to a convoy soldier with a wagon who was pressing on to the infantryman who were crowded together close to his wheels and his horses. What a fellow! You can't wait a moment! Don't you see the general wants to pass? But the convoy man took no notice of the word general and shouted at the soldiers who were blocking his way. Hi there boys! Keep to the left! Wait a bit! But the soldiers crowded together shoulder to shoulder their bayonets interlocking moved over the bridge in a dense mass. Looking down over the rails Prince Nesviski saw the rapid noisy little waves of the ends which rippling and eddying round the parts of the bridge chased each other along. Looking on the bridge he saw equally uniform living waves of soldiers shoulder straps, covered sheikos knapsacks, bayonets long muskets and under the sheikos faces with broad cheekbones sunken cheeks and listless tired expressions and feet that moved through the sticky mud that covered the planks of the bridge sometimes through the monotonous waves of man like a flak of white foam on the waves of the ends an officer in a cloak and with a type of face different from that of the man squeezed his way along sometimes like a chip of wood whirling in the river and hussar on foot and orderly or a townsman was carried through the waves of infantry and sometimes like a log floating down the river and officers or a company's baggage wagon part high leather covered and hemmed in on all sides moved across the river. It is as if a dam had burst said the cossack hopelessly are there many more of you to come a million all but one replied a vagish soldier in a torn coat with a wink and passed on followed by another an old man if he he meant the enemy begins popping at the bridge now said the old soldier to a comrade you will forget to scratch yourself that soldier passed on and after him came another sitting on a cart where the devil have the leg bands been shoved to said an orderly running behind the cart and fumbling in the back of it and he also passed on with the wagon then came some merry soldiers who had evidently been drinking and then old fellow he gives him one in the teeth with the butt end of his gun a soldier whose great coat was well tucked up said gaily with a wide swing of his arm yes the hem was just delicious answered another with a loud laugh and they too passed on so that Nesviski did not learn who had been stuck on the teeth or what the hem had to do with it well how they scurry he just sends a ball and they think they will all be killed a sergeant was saying angrily and reproachfully as it flies past me daddy the ball I mean said the young soldier with an enormous mouth hardly refraining from laughing I felt like dying of fright I did upon my word I got that frightened said he as a bragging of having been frightened that one also passed then followed the cart unlike any that had gone before it was a German cart with a pair of horses led by a German and seemed loaded with a whole house full of effects a fine brindled cow with a large other was attached to the cart behind a woman with an unweaned baby an old woman and the healthy German girl with bright red cheeks were sitting on some feather beds evidently these fugitives were allowed to pass by special permission the eyes of all the soldiers turned toward the women and while the vehicle was passing at foot pace all the soldiers remarks related to the two young ones the face bore almost the same smile expressing unseemly thoughts about the women just see the German sausages making tracks too sell me the mrs said another soldier addressing the German who angry and frightened strode energetically along with downcast eyes see how smart she made herself there Fedrothov you should be quartered on them I have seen as much before now mate where are you going asked an infantry officer who was eating an apple also half smiling as he looked at the handsome girl the German closed his eyes signifying that he did not understand take it if you like said the officer giving the girl an apple the girl smiled and took it like the rest of the man on the bridge did not take his eyes off the women till they had passed when they had gone by the same stream of soldiers followed with the same kind of talk and at last all stopped as often happens the horses of a convoy wagon became restive at the end of the bridge the crowd had to wait and why are they stopping there is no proper order said the soldiers where are you shoving to devil take you can't you wait it will be worse if he fires the bridge see here's an officer jammed in too different voices were saying in the crowd as the man looked at one another and all pressed towards from the bridge looking down at the waters of the ends under the bridge Nezviski suddenly had a sound new to him of something swiftly approaching something big that splashed into the water just see where it carries to a soldier nearby said sternly looking round at the sound encouraging us to get along quicker said another uneasily the crowd moved on again Nezviski realized that it was a cannonball hey Kosak my horse he said now then you there get out of the way make way with great difficulty he managed to get to his horse and shouting continually he moved on the soldiers squeezed themselves to make way for him but again pressed on him they jammed his leg and those nearest him were not to blame for they were themselves pressed still harder from behind Nezviski Nezviski you numskull came a horse voice from behind him Nezviski looked round and saw some 15 paces away but separated by the living mass of moving infantry Vaska Denisov with his cap on the back of his black head and a cloak hanging gently over his shoulder tell these devils these fins to let me pass shouted Denisov evidently in a fit of rage his cold black eyes with their bloodshot whites glittering and rolling as he waved his sheath sabre in a small bare hand as red as his face ah Vaska sofully replied Nezviski what's up with you the squawon can't pass shouted Vaska Denisov showing his white teeth fiercely and spurring his black cerebral Arab which twitched its ears as the bayonets touched it and snorted spurting white foam from his bed champing the planks of the bridge with his hoofs ready to jump over the railings had his rider let him what is this they are like sheep just like sheep out of the way let us pass stop there you devil with the cart I will hack you with my sabre he shouted actually drawing his sabre from its cupboard and flourishing it the soldiers crowded against one another with terrified faces and Denisov joined Nezviski how is it you are not drunk today said Nezviski when the other had ridden up to him they don't even give one time to drink answered Vaska Denisov they keep begging the regiment to and throw all day if they mean to fight let us fight but the devil knows what this is what a dandy you are today said Nezviski looking at Denisov's new cloak and saddle cloth Denisov smiled took out of his sabre tache a handkerchief that diffused a smell of perfume and put it to Nezviski's nose of course I am going into action I have shaped brushed my teeth and sanded myself the imposing figure of Nezviski followed by his Cossack and the determination of Denisov who flourished his sword and shouted frantically had such an effect that they managed to squeeze through to the farther side of the bridge and stop the infantry beside the bridge Nezviski found the colonel to whom he had to deliver the order and having done this he rode back having cleared the way and Nezviski stopped at the end of the bridge Carelessly holding in his stallion that was neighing and pawing the ground eager to rejoin its fellows he watched his squadron draw nearer then the clang of hoofs as of several horses galloping resounded on the planks of the bridge and the squadron officers in front and men, four abreast led across the bridge and began to emerge on his side of it the infantry who had been stopped crowded near the bridge in the trampled mud and gazed with that particular feeling of ill will, estrangement and ridicule with which troops of different arms usually encountered one another at the clean smart hussars who moved past them in regular order smart lads, only fit for a fair said one what good are they they are led about just for show remarked another don't kick up the dust you infantry jester the hussar whose prancing horse had splashed mud over some foot soldiers I would like to put you on a two days march with an abstract your fine cords would soon get a bit rubbed said an infantryman wiping the mud of his face with his sleeve perched up there you are more like a bird than a man they are now seeking they ought to put you on a horse you would look fine said a corporal chafing a thin little soldier who bent under the weight of his knapsack take a stick between your legs that will suit you for a horse hussar shouted back end of chapter 7 recording by Ava Harnick Pontevedra, Florida