the new men, and drew him on and listened to him with evident pleasure.
‘The past always seems good,’ said he, ‘but did not Suvorov himself fall into a trap Moreau set him, and from which
he did not know how to escape?’
‘Who told you that? Who?’ cried the prince. ‘Suvorov!’
And he jerked away his plate, which Tikhon briskly caught.
‘Suvorov!… Consider, Prince Andrew. Two… Frederick and
Suvorov; Moreau!… Moreau would have been a prisoner if
Suvorov had had a free hand; but he had the Hofs-kriegswurst-schnapps-Rath on his hands. It would have puzzled
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the devil himself! When you get there you’ll find out what
those Hofs-kriegs-wurst-Raths are! Suvorov couldn’t manage them so what chance has Michael Kutuzov? No, my
dear boy,’ he continued, ‘you and your generals won’t get on
against Buonaparte; you’ll have to call in the French, so that
birds of a feather may fight together. The German, Pahlen,
has been sent to New York in America, to fetch the Frenchman, Moreau,’ he said, alluding to the invitation made that
year to Moreau to enter the Russian service…. ‘Wonderful!… Were the Potemkins, Suvorovs, and Orlovs Germans?
No, lad, either you fellows have all lost your wits, or I have
outlived mine. May God help you, but we’ll see what will
happen. Buonaparte has become a great commander among
them! Hm!..’
‘I don’t at all say that all the plans are good,’ said Prince
Andrew, ‘I am only surprised at your opinion of Bonaparte.
You may laugh as much as you like, but all the same
Bonaparte is a great generall.’
‘Michael Ivanovich!’ cried the old prince to the architect
who, busy with his roast meat, hoped he had been forgotten:
‘Didn’t I tell you Buonaparte was a great tactician? Here, he
says same thing.’
‘To be sure, your excellency.’ replied the architect.
The prince again laughed his frigid laugh.
‘Buonaparte was born with a silver spoon in his mouth.
He has got splendid soldiers. Besides he began by attacking
Germans. And only idlers have failed to beat the Germans.
Since the world began everybody has beaten the Germans.
They beat no oneexcept one another. He made his reputation
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fighting them.’
And the prince began explaining all the blunders which,
according to him, Bonaparte had made in his campaigns
and even in politics. His son made no rejoinder, but it was
evident that whatever arguments were presented he was as
little able as his father to change his opinion. He listened, refraining from a reply, and involuntarily wondered how this
old man, living alone in the country for so many years, could
know and discuss so minutely and acutely all the recent European military and political events.
‘You think I’m an old man and don’t understand the present state of affairs?’ concluded his father. ‘But it troubles me.
I don’t sleep at night. Come now, where has this great commander of yours shown his skill?’ he concluded.
‘That would take too long to tell,’ answered the son.
‘Well, then go to your Buonaparte! Mademoiselle Bourienne, here’s another admirer of that powder-monkey
emperor of yours,’ he exclaimed in excellent French.
‘You know, Prince, I am not a Bonapartist!’
‘Dieu sait quand reviendra”… hummed the prince out of
tune and, with a laugh still more so, he quitted the table.
The little princess during the whole discussion and the
rest of the dinner sat silent, glancing with a frightened look
now at her father-in-law and now at Princess Mary. When
they left the table she took her sister-in-law’s arm and drew
her into another room.
‘What a clever man your father is,’ said she; ‘perhaps that
is why I am afraid of him.’
‘Oh, he is so kind!’ answered Princess Mary.
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Chapter XXVIII
Prince Andrew was to leave next evening. The old prince,
not altering his routine, retired as usual after dinner. The little princess was in her sister-in-law’s room. Prince Andrew
in a traveling coat without epaulettes had been packing
with his valet in the rooms assigned to him. After inspecting the carriage himself and seeing the trunks put in, he
ordered the horses to be harnessed. Only those things he
always kept with him remained in his room; a small box, a
large canteen fitted with silver plate, two Turkish pistols and
a sabera present from his father who had brought it from
the siege of Ochakov. All these traveling effects of Prince
Andrew’s were in very good order: new, clean, and in cloth
covers carefully tied with tapes.
When starting on a journey or changing their mode
of life, men capable of reflection are generally in a serious frame of mind. At such moments one reviews the past
and plans for the future. Prince Andrew’s face looked very
thoughtful and tender. With his hands behind him he paced
briskly from corner to corner of the room, looking straight
before him and thoughtfully shaking his head. Did he fear
going to the war, or was he sad at leaving his wife?perhaps
both, but evidently he did not wish to be seen in that mood,
for hearing footsteps in the passage he hurriedly unclasped
his hands, stopped at a table as if tying the cover of the small
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box, and assumed his usual tranquil and impenetrable expression. It was the heavy tread of Princess Mary that he
heard.
‘I hear you have given orders to harness,’ she cried, panting (she had apparently been running), ‘and I did so wish to
have another talk with you alone! God knows how long we
may again be parted. You are not angry with me for coming? You have changed so, Andrusha,’ she added, as if to
explain such a question.
She smiled as she uttered his pet name, ‘Andrusha.’ It
was obviously strange to her to think that this stern handsome man should be Andrushathe slender mischievous boy
who had been her playfellow in childhood.
‘And where is Lise?’ he asked, answering her question
only by a smile.
‘She was so tired that she has fallen asleep on the sofa in
my room. Oh, Andrew! What a treasure of a wife you have,’
said she, sitting down on the sofa, facing her brother. ‘She
is quite a child: such a dear, merry child. I have grown so
fond of her.’
Prince Andrew was silent, but the princess noticed the
ironical and contemptuous look that showed itself on his
face.
‘One must be indulgent to little weaknesses; who is free
from them, Andrew? Don’t forget that she has grown up
and been educated in society, and so her position now is not
a rosy one. We should enter into everyone’s situation. Tout
comprendre, c’est tout pardonner.* Think it must be for her,
poor thing, after what she has been used to, to be parted
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from her husband and be left alone the country, in her condition! It’s very hard.’
*To understand all is to forgive all.
Prince Andrew smiled as he looked at his sister, as we
smile at those we think we thoroughly understand.
‘You live in the country and don’t think the life terrible,’
he replied.
‘I… that’s different. Why speak of me? I don’t want any
other life, and can’t, for I know no other. But think, Andrew: for a young society woman to be buried in the country
during the best years of her life, all alonefor Papa is always
busy, and I… well, you know what poor resources I have for
entertaining a woman used to the best society. There is only
Mademoiselle Bourienne…’
‘I don’t like your Mademoiselle Bourienne at all,’ said
Prince Andrew.
‘No? She is very nice and kind and, above all, she’s much
to be pitied. She has no one, no one. To tell the truth, I don’t
need her, and she’s even in my way. You know I always was
a savage, and now am even more so. I like being alone…. Father likes her very much. She and Michael Ivanovich are the
two people to whom he is always gentle and kind, because
he has been a benefactor to them both. As Sterne says: ‘We
don’t love people so much for the good they have done us, as
for the good we have done them.’ Father took her when she
was homeless after losing her own father. She is very goodnatured, and my father likes her way of reading. She reads
to him in the evenings and reads splendidly.’
‘To be quite frank, Mary, I expect Father’s character
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sometimes makes things trying for you, doesn’t it?’ Prince
Andrew asked suddenly.
Princess Mary was first surprised and then aghast at this
question.
‘For me? For me?… Trying for me!…’ said she.
‘He always was rather harsh; and now I should think
he’s getting very trying,’ said Prince Andrew, apparently
speaking lightly of their father in order to puzzle or test his
sister.
‘You are good in every way, Andrew, but you have a
kind of intellectual pride,’ said the princess, following the
train of her own thoughts rather than the trend of the
conversation‘and that’s a great sin. How can one judge Father? But even if one might, what feeling except veneration
could such a man as my father evoke? And I am so contented and happy with him. I only wish you were all as happy
as I am.’
Her brother shook his head incredulously.
‘The only thing that is hard for me… I will tell you the
truth, Andrew… is Father’s way of treating religious subjects.
I don’t understand how a man of his immense intellect can
fail to see what is as clear as day, and can go so far astray.
That is the only thing that makes me unhappy. But even in
this I can see lately a shade of improvement. His satire has
been less bitter of late, and there was a monk he received
and had a long talk with.’
‘Ah! my dear, I am afraid you and your monk are wasting
your powder,’ said Prince Andrew banteringly yet tenderly.
‘Ah! mon ami, I only pray, and hope that God will hear
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me. Andrew…’ she said timidly after a moment’s silence, ‘I
have a great favor to ask of you.’
‘What is it, dear?’
‘Nopromise that you will not refuse! It will give you no
trouble and is nothing unworthy of you, but it will comfort
me. Promise, Andrusha!…’ said she, putting her hand in her
reticule but not yet taking out what she was holding inside
it, as if
