 War and Peace. First Epilogue, Chapter 14. Read for LibriVox.org by Dan Craig. Soon after this the children came in to say good night. They kissed everyone, the tutors and governesses made their bows, and they went out. Only young Nicholas and his tutor remained. They saw a whispered to the boy to come downstairs. No, Moussour de Salle, I will ask my aunt to let me stay, replied Nicholas Balkansky, also in a whisper. Matate, please let me stay, he said, going up to his aunt. His face expressed intrigue, agitation, and ecstasy. Countess Mary glanced at him and turned up here. When you were here he can't tear himself away, she said. I will bring him to you directly, Moussour de Salle. Good night, said Pierre, giving his hand to the soy's tutor. And he turned to young Nicholas with a smile. You and I haven't seen anything of one another yet. How like he is growing, Mary, he added, addressing Countess Mary. Like my father, asked the boy, flushing crimson and looking up at Pierre with bright, static eyes. Pierre nodded and went on with what he had been saying when the children had interrupted. Countess Mary sat down doing wool work. Natasha did not take her eyes off her husband. Nicholas and Dennis Alfrose asked for their pipes, smoked, went to fetch more tea from Sonia, who set weary but resolute at the semivar, and questioned Pierre. The curly-headed, delicate boy set with shining eyes unnoticed in a corner, starting every now and then and muttering something to himself, and evidently experiencing a new and powerful emotion as he turned his curly head, with his thin neck exposed by his turned-down collar, toward the place where Pierre sat. The conversation turned on the contemporary gossip about those in power, in which most people see the chief interest of home politics. Dennis Alf, dissatisfied with the government on account of his own disappointments in the service, heard with pleasure the things done in Petersburg which seemed to him stupid, and made forcible and sharp comments on what Pierre told him. One used to have to be a German. Now one must dance with Tata Winova and Madame Quediner and Wieg Ektahausen, and the Buehde one. Oh, they should let that fine fellow bone apart loose. He'd knock all this nonsense out of them, fancy giving the command of the Seminoff Wedgement to a fellow like that Schwatz, he cried. Nicholas, though free from Dennis Alf's readiness to find fault with everything, also thought that discussion of the government was a very serious and weighty matter, and the fact that A had been a pointed minister of this, and B, Governor General of that, and that the emperor had said so-and-so, and this minister so-and-so, seemed to him very important. And so he thought it necessary to take an interest in these things and to question Pierre. The questions put by these two kept the conversation from changing its ordinary character of gossip about the higher-government circles. But Natasha, knowing all her husband's ways and ideas, saw that he had long been wishing, but had been unable to divert the conversation to another channel, and express his own deeply felt idea for the sake of which he had gone to Petersburg to consult with his new friend Prince Theodore. And she helped him by asking how his affairs with Prince Theodore had gone. What was it about, asked Nicholas. Always the same things had Pierre looking round at his listeners. Everybody sees that things are going so badly that they cannot be allowed to go on so, and that it is the duty of all decent men to counteract it as far as they can. What can decent men do, Nicholas inquired, frowning slightly? What can be done? Why this? Come into my study, said Nicholas. Natasha, who had long expected to be fetched to nurse her baby, now heard the nurse calling her and went to the nursery. Countess Mary followed her. The men went into the study, and little Nicholas Balkansky followed them unnoticed by his uncle, and sat down at the writing table in a shady corner by the window. Well, what would you do, asked Dennis up. Always some fantastic scheme, said Nicholas. Why this, began Pierre, not sitting down but pacing the room, sometimes stopping short, gesticulating and lisping. The position in Petersburg is this. The emperor does not look into anything. He has abandoned himself altogether to this mysticism. Pierre could not tolerate mysticism in anyone now. He seeks only for peace. And only these people, sans foie ni lois, without faith or law, can give it to him. People who recklessly hack at and strangle everything, Magnitsky, Arch-Chief, and Tutti-Quanti. You will agree that if you did not look after your estate yourself, but only wanted a quiet life, the harsher your steward was, the more readily your object might be attained, he said to Nicholas. Well, what does that lead up to, said Nicholas? Well, everything is going to ruin. Robbery in the law courts, in the army nothing but flogging, drilling, and military settlements. The people are tortured, enlightenment is suppressed. All that is young and honest is crushed. Everyone sees that this cannot go on. Everything is strained to such a degree that it will certainly break, said Pierre. As those who examine the actions of any government have always said since governments began, I told them just one thing in Petersburg. Told whom? Well, you know whom, said Pierre, with a meaning glance from under his brows. Prince Theodore and all those. To encourage culture and philanthropy is all very well, of course. The aim is excellent, but in the present circumstances something else is needed. At that moment Nicholas noticed the presence of his nephew. His face darkened and he went up to the boy. Why are you here? Why, let him be, said Pierre, taking Nicholas by the arm and continuing. That is not enough, I told him. Something else is needed. When you stand expecting the over-strange string to snap at any moment, when everyone is expecting the inevitable catastrophe, as many as possible must join hands as closely as they can to withstand the general calamity. Everything that is young and strong is being enticed away and depraved. One is lured by women, another by honors, a third by ambition or money, and they go over to that camp. No independent men, such as you or I, are left. What I say is widen the scope of our society. Let them, oh, draw it or not be virtue alone, but independence and action as well. Nicholas, who had left his nephew, irritably pushed up an armchair, sat down in it and listened to Pierre, coughing discontentedly and frowning more and more. But action with what aim, he cried, and what position will you adopt toward the government? Why the position of assistance? The society need not be secret if the government allows it. Not merely is it not hostile to government, but it is a society of true conservatives, a society of gentlemen and the full meaning of that word. It is only to prevent some Pugachev or other from killing my children and yours, and our chief from sending me off to some military settlement. We join hands only for the public welfare and the general safety. Yes, but it's a secret society and therefore a hostile and harmful one which can only cause harm. Why did the Tuggenbund, which saved Europe? They did not then venture to suggest that Russia had saved Europe. Do any harm? The Tuggenbund is an alliance of virtue. It is love, mutual help. It is what Christ preached on the cross. Natasha, who had come in during this conversation, looked joyfully at her husband. It was not what he was saying that pleased her. That did not even interest her. For it seemed to her that it was all extremely simple and that she had known it a long time. It seemed so to her because she knew that it sprang from Pierre's whole soul. But it was his animated and enthusiastic appearance that made her glad. The boy with the thin neck stretching out from the turned down collar, whom everyone had forgotten, gazed at Pierre with even greater and more raptious joy. Every word of Pierre's burned into his heart, and with the nervous movement of his fingers, he unconsciously broke the ceiling wax and quill pins his hand came upon on his uncle's table. It is not at all what you suppose, but that is what the German Tuggenbund was and what I am proposing. No, my friend, the Tuggenbund is all very well for the sausage-eaters, but I don't understand it and can't even pronounce it in a pose, then is often a loud and resolute voice. I agree that everything here is watten and horrible, but the Tuggenbund, I don't understand. If we're not satisfied, let us have a boon of our own. That's all white. Je suis votre homme, I'm your man. Pierre smiled, Natasha began to laugh, but Nicholas knitted his brows still more and began proving to Pierre that there was no prospect of any great change and that all the danger he spoke of existed only in his imagination. Pierre maintained the contrary, and as his mental faculties were greater and more resourceful, Nicholas felt himself cornered. This made him still angrier, for he was fully convinced, not by reasoning, but by something with him stronger than reason, of the justice of his opinion. I will tell you this, he said, rising and trying with nervously twitching fingers to prop up his pipe in a corner, but finally abandoning the attempt. I can't prove it to you. You say that everything here is watten and then an overthrow is coming. I don't see it, but you also say that our oath of allegiance is a conditional matter, and to that I reply, you're my best friend, as you know, but if you formed a secret society, began working against the government, be it what it may, I know it is my duty to obey the government. And if our chief ordered me to lead a squadron against you and cut you down, I should not hesitate an instant, but should do it. And you might argue about that as you like. An awkward silence followed these words. Natasha was the first to speak, defending her husband and attacking her brother. Her defense was weak and inept, but she attained her object. The conversation was resumed, and no longer in the unpleasantly hostile tones of Nicholas's last remark. When they all got up to go into supper, little Nicholas Balkansky went up to Pierre, pale and with shining radiant eyes. Uncle Pierre, you know, if Papa were alive, would he agree with you, he asked? And Pierre suddenly realized what a special, independent, complex, and powerful process of thought and feeling must have been going on in this boy during that conversation. And remembering all he had said, he regretted that the lad should have heard him. He had, however, to give him an answer. Yes, I think so, he said reluctantly and left the study. The lad looked down and seemed now for the first time to notice what he had done to the things on the table. He flushed and went up to Nicholas. Uncle, forgive me, I did that unintentionally, he said, pointing to the broken ceiling wax and pins. Nicholas started angrily. All right, all right, he said, throwing the bits under the table. And evidently suppressing his vexation with difficulty, he turned away from the boy. You ought not to have been here at all, he said. End of chapter 14. This recording is in the public domain. War and Peace, First Epilogue, chapter 15, read for LibriVox.org by Kate McKenzie. The conversation at supper was not about politics or societies, but turned on the subject Nicholas liked best, recollections of 1812. Denisov started these and Pierre was particularly agreeable and amusing about them, the family separated on the most friendly terms. After supper, Nicholas, having undressed in his study and given instructions to the steward who had been waiting for him, went to the bedroom in his dressing-gown where he found his wife still at her table, writing. What are you writing, Mary? Nicholas asked. Countess Mary blushed. She was afraid that what she was writing would not be understood or approved by her husband. She had wanted to conceal what she was writing from him, but at the same time was glad he had surprised her at it and that she would now have to tell him. A diary, Nicholas. She replied, handing him a blue exercise book filled with her firm bold writing. A diary. Nicholas repeated with a shade of irony and he took up the book. It was in French. December 4th. Today, when Androsha, her eldest boy, woke up, he did not wish to dress and Mamoiselle Louise sent for me. He was naughty and obstinate. I tried threats, but he only grew angrier. Then I took the matter in hand. I left him alone and began with nurse's help to get the other children up, telling him that I did not love him. For a long time he was silent as if astonished then he jumped out of bed, ran to me in his shirt and sobbed so that I could not calm him for a long time. It was plain that what troubled him most was that he'd grieved me. Afterwards in the evening, when I gave him his ticket, he began again crying pitchlessly and kissing me. One can do anything with him by tenderness. What is a ticket? Nicholas inquired. I have begun giving the elder one's marks every evening, showing how they have behaved. Nicholas looked into the radiant eyes that were gazing at him and continued to turn over the pages and read. In the diary was set down everything in the children's lives that seemed noteworthy to their mother as showing their characters or suggesting general reflections on educational methods. They were for the most part quite insignificant trifles, but did not seem so to their mother or to their father either, now that he read this diary about his children for the first time. Under the date, fifth, was entered. Miccia was naughty at table. Papa said he was to have no pudding. He had none, but looked so unhappily and greedily at the others while they were eating. I think that punishment by depriving children of sweets only develops their greediness. Must tell Nicholas this. Nicholas put down the book and looked at his wife. The radiant eyes gazed at him questioningly. Would he approve or disapprove of her diary? There could be no doubt not only of his approval, but also of his admiration for his wife. Perhaps it need not be done so pedantically, thought Nicholas, or even done at all, but this untiring, continual spiritual effort of which the sole aim was the children's moral welfare delighted him. Had Nicholas been able to analyse his feelings, he would have found that his steady, tender and proud love of his wife rested on his feeling of wonder at her spirituality and at the lofty moral world, almost beyond his reach in which she had her being. He was proud of her intelligence and goodness, recognised his only significance beside her in the spiritual world, and rejoiced all the more that she, with such a soul, not only belonged to him, but was part of himself. I quite, quite approve, my dearest," said he with a significant look, and after a short pause he added, and, I behaved badly today. You weren't in the study. We began disputing Pierre and I, and I lost my temper. But he is impossible, such a child. I don't know what would become of him if Natasha didn't keep him in hand. Have you any idea why he went to Petersburg? They have formed, yes, I know, said Countess Mary. Natasha told me. Well then, you know! Nicholas went on growing hot at the mere recollection of the discussion. He wanted to convince me that it is every honest man's duty to go against the government and that the oath of allegiance and duty, I'm sorry you weren't there. They all fell on me. Then he saw when Natasha, Natasha is absurd. How she rules over him. And yet there need only be a discussion and she has no words of her own, but then repeats his sayings, added Nicholas yielding to that irresistible inclination which tempts us to judge those nearest and dearest to us. He forgot that what he was saying about Natasha could have been applied word for word to himself in relation to his wife. Yes, I have noticed that, said Countess Mary. When I told him that duty and the oath were above everything, he started proving goodness knows what a pity you were not there. What would you have said? As I see it you were quite right and I told Natasha so. Pierre says everybody is suffering, tortured and being corrupted and that it is our duty to help our neighbour. Of course, he is right there, said Countess Mary, but he forgets that we have other duties nearer to us, duties indicated to us by God himself and that though we might expose ourselves to risk, we must not risk our children. Yes, that's it, that's just what I said to him. Put in Nicholas who fancied he really had said it, but they insisted on their own view, love of one's neighbour and Christianity and all this in the presence of young Nicholas who had gone into my study and broke all my things. Ah, Nicholas, do you know I am often troubled about little Nicholas? said Countess Mary. He is such an exceptional boy. I am afraid I neglect him in favour of my own. We all have children in relations while he has no one. He is constantly alone with his thoughts. Well, I don't think you need to approach yourself on his account. All that the fondest mother could do for her son you have done and are doing for him and, of course, I am glad of it. He is a fine lad, a fine lad. This evening he listened to Pierre in a sort of trance and fancy. As we were going into supper, I looked and he had broken everything on my table to bits and he told me of it himself at once. I never knew him to tell an untruth, a fine lad, a fine lad. Repeated Nicholas, who at heart was not fond of Nicholas Borkonsky and was always anxious to recognise that he was a fine lad. Still, I am not the same as his own mother, said Countess Mary. I feel I am not the same and it troubles me. A wonderful boy, but I am dreadfully afraid for him. It would be good for him to have companions. Well, it won't be for long. Next summer I'll take him to Petersburg, said Nicholas. Yes, Pierre was always a dreamer and always will be. He continued returning to the talk in the study which had evidently disturbed him. Well, what business is it of mine, what goes on there? Where the Hrakchev is bad and all that, what business was it of mine when I married and was so deep in debt that I was threatened with prison and had a mother who could not see or understand it? And then? And then there are you and the children in our affairs. Is it for my own pleasure the time at the farmer in the office from morning to night? No, but I know I must work to comfort my mother to repay you and not to leave the children such beggars as I was. Countess Mary wanted to tell him that man does not live by bread alone and that he attached too much importance to these matters. But she knew she must not say this and that it would be useless to do so. She only took his hand and kissed it. He took this as a sign of approval and a confirmation of his thoughts and after a few minutes of reflection continued to think aloud. You know, Mary, today Elias Mitrofanich, this was his overseer, came back from the Tambova state and told me they are already offering 80,000 rubles for the forest. And with an eager face, Nicholas began to speak of the possibility of repurchasing Othradnaya before long and added, another 10 years of life and I shall leave the children in an excellent position. Countess Mary listened to her husband and understood all that he told her. She knew that when he thought aloud in this way he would sometimes ask her what he had been saying and be vexed if he noticed that she had been thinking about something else. But she had to force herself to attend for what he was saying did not interest her at all. She looked at him and did not think but felt about something different. She felt a submissive tender love for this man who would never understand all that she understood and this seemed to make her love for him still stronger and added a touch of passionate tenderness. Besides this feeling which absorbed her all together and hindered her from following the details of her husband's plans, thoughts that had no connection with what he was saying flitted through her mind. She thought of her nephew. Her husband's account of the boy's agitation while Pierre was speaking struck her forcibly and various traits of his gentle sensitive character recurred to her mind and while thinking of her nephew she thought also of her own children. She did not compare them with him but compared her feeling for them with her feeling for him and felt with regret that there was something lacking in her feeling for young Nicholas. Sometimes it seemed to her that this difference arose from the difference in their ages but she felt herself to blame toward him and promised in her heart to do better and to accomplish the impossible. In this life, to love her husband, her children, little Nicholas and all her neighbours as Christ loved mankind. Countess Mary's soul always strove towards the infinite, the eternal and the absolute and could therefore never be at peace. A stern expression of the lofty secret suffering of her soul burdened by the body appeared on her face. Nicholas gazed at her. Oh God! What will become of us if she dies as I always fear when her face is like that? Thought he and placing himself before the icon he began to say his evening prayers. End of Chapter 15 This recording is in the public domain. War and Peace, First Epilogue, Chapter 16, read for LibreVox.org by Anna Simon. Natasha and Pierre, left alone, also began to talk as only a husband and wife can talk, that is, with extraordinary clearness and rapidity, understanding and expressing each other's thoughts in ways contrary to all rules of logic without premises, deductions or conclusions and in a quite peculiar way. Natasha was so used to this kind of talk with her husband that for her it was the surest sign of something being wrong between them if Pierre followed a line of logical reasoning. When he began proving anything or talking argumentatively and calmly and she, let on by his example, began to do the same, she knew that they were on the verge of a crawl. From the moment they were alone and Natasha came up to him with wide open, happy eyes and quickly seizing his head, pressed it to her bosom, saying, now you're all mine, mine, you won't escape. From that moment, this conversation began, contrary to all the laws of logic and contrary to them, because quite different subjects were talked about at one and the same time. This simultaneous discussion of many topics did not prevent a clear understanding but on the contrary was the surest sign that they fully understood one another. Just as in a dream when all is uncertain and reasoning and contradictory except the feeling that guides the dream. So in this intercourse, contrary to all laws of reason, the words themselves were not consecutive and clear but only the feeling that prompted them. Natasha spoke to Pierre about her brother's life and doings of how she had suffered and lacked life during his own absence and of how she was funner than ever of Mary and how Mary was in every way better than herself. In saying this, Natasha was sincere in acknowledging Mary's superiority but at the same time by saying it, she made a demand on Pierre that he should all the same prefer her to Mary and to all other women and that now, especially after having seen many women in Petersburg, he should tell her so afresh. Pierre, answering Natasha's words, told her how intolerable it had been for him to meet ladies at dinners and bowls in Petersburg. I've quite lost the knack of talking to ladies, he said. It was simply dull, besides I was very busy. Natasha looked intently at him and went on. Mary is so splendid, said she. How she understands children. It is as if she saw straight into their souls. Yesterday, for instance, Mitia was naughty. How like his father he is, Pierre interjected. Natasha knew why he mentioned Mitia's likeness to Nicholas. The recollection of his dispute with his brother-in-law was unpleasant and he wanted to know what Natasha thought of it. Nicholas has the weakness of never agreeing with anything not generally accepted. But I understand that you value what opens up a fresh line, said she, repeating words Pierre had once added. No, the chief point is that to Nicholas, ideas and discussions are an amusement, almost a pastime, said Pierre. For instance, he's collecting a library and has made it a rule not to buy a new book till he has read what he'd already bought. Says Mundy and Rousseau and Montesquieu, he added with a smile. You know how much I, he began to soften down what he'd said, but Natasha interrupted him to show that this was unnecessary. So you say ideas are an amusement to him. Yes, and for me, nothing else is serious. All the time in Petersburg I saw everyone as in a dream. When I'm taken up by a thought, all else is mere amusement. Ah, I'm so sorry I wasn't there when you met the children, said Natasha. Which was most delighted, Lisa, I'm sure. Yes, Pierre replied and went on with what was in his mind. Nicholas says, we ought not to think, but I can't help it. Besides, when I was in Petersburg, I felt I can say this to you that the whole affair would go to pieces without me. Everyone was pulling his own way, but I succeeded in uniting them all. And then my idea is so clear and simple. You see, I don't say that we ought to oppose this and that. We may be mistaken. What I say is, join hands, you who love the right, and let there be but one banner that of active virtue. Pensergai is a fine fellow and clever. Natasha would have had no doubt as to the greatness of Pierre's idea, but one thing disconcerted her. Can a man so important and necessary to society be also my husband? How did this happen? She wished to express this doubt to him. Now, who could decide whether he is really clever than all the others? She asked herself and passed him review all those whom Pierre most respected. Judging by what he had said, there was no one he had respected so highly as Platon Karateyev. Do you know what I'm thinking about? She asked. About Platon Karateyev. Would he ever prove to you now, do you think? Pierre was not at all surprised at this question. He understood his wise line of thought. Platon Karateyev, he repeated and pondered, evidently sincerely trying to imagine Karateyev's opinion on the subject. He would not have understood. Yet, perhaps he would. I love you awfully, Natasha suddenly said, awfully, awfully. No, he would not have approved, said Pierre, after reflection. What he would have approved of is our family life. He was always so anxious to find seamliness, happiness and peace in everything. And I should have been proud to let him see us. There now, you talk of my absence, but you wouldn't believe what a special feeling I have for you after separation. Yes, I should think, Natasha began. No, it's not that. I never leave off loving you and one couldn't love more, but this is something special. Yes, of course. He did not finish because their eyes meeting set the rest. What nonsense it is, Natasha suddenly exclaimed, about honeymoons and that the greatest happiness is at first. On the contrary, now is the best of all. If only he did not go away. Do you remember how we quarreled? It was always my fault, always mine. How we quarreled about, I don't even remember. Always about the same thing, said Pierre with a smile. Jella, don't say it, I can't bear it. Natasha cried and her eyes glittered coldly and vindictively. Did you see her, she added after a pause? No, and if I had, I shouldn't have recognized her. They were silent for a while. Oh, do you know, while you were talking in the study, I was looking at you. Natasha began, evidently anxious to disperse the clouds that had come over them. You're as like him as two peas, like the boy. She meant her little son. Oh, it's time to go to him, the milk's come. But I'm sorry to leave you. They were silent for a few seconds. Then suddenly turning to one another at the same time, they both began to speak. Pierre began with self-satisfaction and enthusiasm. Natasha with a quiet, happy smile. Having interrupted one another, they both stopped to let the other continue. No, what did you say? Go on, go on. No, you go on. I was talking nonsense, said Natasha. Pierre finished what he had begun. It was a sequel to his complacent reflections on a success in Petersburg. At that moment it seemed to him that he was chosen to give a new direction to the whole of Russian society and to the whole world. I only wish to say that ideas that have great results are always simple ones. My whole idea is that if vicious people are united and constitute a power, then honest folk must do the same. Now, that's simple enough. Yes, and what were you going to say? I, only nonsense, but all the same? Oh, nothing, only a trifle, said Natasha, smilingly still more brightly. I only wanted to tell you about Petia. Today, nurse was coming to take him from me and he laughed, shut his eyes and clung to me. I'm sure he thought he was hiding awfully sweet. There, now he's crying. Well, goodbye, and she left the room. Meanwhile, downstairs in young Nicholas Bokonsky's bedroom, a little lamp was burning as usual. The boy was afraid of the dark and he could not cure him of it. The soul slept propped up on four pillows and his Roman nose admitted sounds of rhythmic snoring. Little Nicholas, who had just waked up in a cold perspiration, sat up in bed and gazed before him with wide open eyes. He had awaked from a terrible dream. He dreamt that he and Uncle Pierre, wearing helmets, such as were depicted in his Plutarch, were leading a huge army. The army was made up of white slanting lines that filled the air like the cobwebs that float about in autumn and which the cell had called Le Fidlavierge. In front was Glory, which was similar to those threats, but rather thicker. He and Pierre were born along lightly and joyously, nearer and nearer to their goal. Suddenly the threats that moved them began to slacken and become entangled and it grew difficult to move and Uncle Nicholas stood before them in a stern and threatening attitude. Have you done this? He said, pointing to some broken ceiling wax and pens. I loved you, but I've orders from Arachiev and will kill the first of you who moves forward. Little Nicholas turned to look at Pierre, but Pierre was no longer there. In his place was his father, Prince Andrew, and his father had neither shape nor form, but he existed. And when Little Nicholas perceived him, he grew faint with love. He felt himself powerless, limp and formless. His father caressed and pitied him, but Uncle Nicholas came nearer and nearer to them. Terror seized young Nicholas, and he awoke. My father, he thought. Though there were two good portraits of Prince Andrew in the house, Nicholas never imagined him in human form. My father has been with me and caressed me. He approved of me and of Uncle Pierre. Whatever he may tell me, I will do it. Missus Guevula burned his hand. Why should not the same sort of thing happen to me? I know they want me to learn, and I will learn. But some day I shall have finished learning, and then I will do something. I only pray God that something may happen to me such as happen to Plutarch's men, and I will act as they did. I will do better. Everyone shall know me, love me, and be delighted with me. And suddenly his bosom heaved with sobs, and he began to cry. Are you ill? He heard the cell's voice asking. No, answered Nicholas, and lay back on his pillow. He's good and kind, and I am fond of him, he thought of the cell. But Uncle Pierre, oh, what a wonderful man he is. And my father? Oh, father, father. Yes, I will do something with which even he would be satisfied. End of chapter 16. End of War and Peace, First Epilogue by Leo Tolstoy. This recording is in the public domain.