musketeers were descending the hill, the French were firing,
and he felt his heart palpitating as he rode forward beside
Schmidt with the bullets merrily whistling all around, and
he experienced tenfold the joy of living, as he had not done
since childhood.
He woke up…
‘Yes, that all happened!’ he said, and, smiling happily to
himself like a child, he fell into a deep, youthful slumber.
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Chapter XI
Next day he woke late. Recalling his recent impressions,
the first thought that came into his mind was that today
he had to be presented to the Emperor Francis; he remembered the Minister of War, the polite Austrian adjutant,
Bilibin, and last night’s conversation. Having dressed for
his attendance at court in full parade uniform, which he
had not worn for a long time, he went into Bilibin’s study
fresh, animated, and handsome, with his hand bandaged.
In the study were four gentlemen of the diplomatic corps.
With Prince Hippolyte Kuragin, who was a secretary to the
embassy, Bolkonski was already acquainted. Bilibin introduced him to the others.
The gentlemen assembled at Bilibin’s were young,
wealthy, gay society men, who here, as in Vienna, formed a
special set which Bilibin, their leader, called les notres.* This
set, consisting almost exclusively of diplomats, evidently
had its own interests which had nothing to do with war or
politics but related to high society, to certain women, and
to the official side of the service. These gentlemen received
Prince Andrew as one of themselves, an honor they did not
extend to many. From politeness and to start conversation,
they asked him a few questions about the army and the battle, and then the talk went off into merry jests and gossip.
*Ours.
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‘But the best of it was,’ said one, telling of the misfortune
of a fellow diplomat, ‘that the Chancellor told him flatly that
his appointment to London was a promotion and that he
was so to regard it. Can you fancy the figure he cut?..’
‘But the worst of it, gentlemenI am giving Kuragin away
to youis that that man suffers, and this Don Juan, wicked
fellow, is taking advantage of it!’
Prince Hippolyte was lolling in a lounge chair with his
legs over its arm. He began to laugh.
‘Tell me about that!’ he said.
‘Oh, you Don Juan! You serpent!’ cried several voices.
‘You, Bolkonski, don’t know,’ said Bilibin turning to
Prince Andrew, ‘that all the atrocities of the French army (I
nearly said of the Russian army) are nothing compared to
what this man has been doing among the women!’
‘La femme est la compagne de l’homme,’* announced
Prince Hippolyte, and began looking through a lorgnette
at his elevated legs.
*”Woman is man’s companion.’
Bilibin and the rest of ‘ours’ burst out laughing in Hippolyte’s face, and Prince Andrew saw that Hippolyte, of
whomhe had to admithe had almost been jealous on his
wife’s account, was the butt of this set.
‘Oh, I must give you a treat,’ Bilibin whispered to Bolkonski. ‘Kuragin is exquisite when he discusses politicsyou
should see his gravity!’
He sat down beside Hippolyte and wrinkling his forehead began talking to him about politics. Prince Andrew
and the others gathered round these two.
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‘The Berlin cabinet cannot express a feeling of alliance,’
began Hippolyte gazing round with importance at the
others, ‘without expressing… as in its last note… you understand… Besides, unless His Majesty the Emperor derogates
from the principle of our alliance…
‘Wait, I have not finished…’ he said to Prince Andrew,
seizing him by the arm, ‘I believe that intervention will be
stronger than nonintervention. And…’ he paused. ‘Finally
one cannot impute the nonreceipt of our dispatch of November 18. That is how it will end.’ And he released Bolkonski’s
arm to indicate that he had now quite finished.
‘Demosthenes, I know thee by the pebble thou secretest
in thy golden mouth!’ said Bilibin, and the mop of hair on
his head moved with satisfaction.
Everybody laughed, and Hippolyte louder than anyone.
He was evidently distressed, and breathed painfully, but
could not restrain the wild laughter that convulsed his usually impassive features.
‘Well now, gentlemen,’ said Bilibin, ‘Bolkonski is my
guest in this house and in Brunn itself. I want to entertain
him as far as I can, with all the pleasures of life here. If we
were in Vienna it would be easy, but here, in this wretched
Moravian hole, it is more difficult, and I beg you all to help
me. Brunn’s attractions must be shown him. You can undertake the theater, I society, and you, Hippolyte, of course
the women.’
‘We must let him see Amelie, she’s exquisite!’ said one of
‘ours,’ kissing his finger tips.
‘In general we must turn this bloodthirsty soldier to
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more humane interests,’ said Bilibin.
‘I shall scarcely be able to avail myself of your hospitality, gentlemen, it is already time for me to go,’ replied Prince
Andrew looking at his watch.
‘Where to?’
‘To the Emperor.’
‘Oh! Oh! Oh!’ Well, au revoir, Bolkonski! Au revoir,
Prince! Come back early to dinner,’ cried several voices.
‘We’ll take you in hand.’
‘When speaking to the Emperor, try as far as you can to
praise the way that provisions are supplied and the routes
indicated,’ said Bilibin, accompanying him to the hall.
‘I should like to speak well of them, but as far as I the
facts, I can’t,’ replied Bolkonski, smiling.
‘Well, talk as much as you can, anyway. He has a passion
for giving audiences, but he does not like talking himself
and can’t do it, as you will see.’
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Chapter XII
At the levee Prince Andrew stood among the Austrian officers as he had been told to, and the Emperor Francis merely
looked fixedly into his face and just nodded to him with to
him with his long head. But after it was over, the adjutant he
had seen the previous day ceremoniously informed Bolkonski that the Emperor desired to give him an audience. The
Emperor Francis received him standing in the middle of the
room. Before the conversation began Prince Andrew was
struck by the fact that the Emperor seemed confused and
blushed as if not knowing what to say.
‘Tell me, when did the battle begin?’ he asked hurriedly.
Prince Andrew replied. Then followed other questions
just as simple: ‘Was Kutuzov well? When had he left Krems?’
and so on. The Emperor spoke as if his sole aim were to put
a given number of questionsthe answers to these questions,
as was only too evident, did not interest him.
‘At what o’clock did the battle begin?’ asked the Emperor.
‘I cannot inform Your Majesty at what o’clock the battle began at the front, but at Durrenstein, where I was, our
attack began after five in the afternoon,’ replied Bolkonski
growing more animated and expecting that he would have a
chance to give a reliable account, which he had ready in his
mind, of all he knew and had seen. But the Emperor smiled
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and interrupted him.
‘How many miles?’
‘From where to where, Your Majesty?’
‘From Durrenstein to Krems.’
‘Three and a half miles, Your Majesty.’
‘The French have abandoned the left bank?’
‘According to the scouts the last of them crossed on rafts
during the night.’
‘Is there sufficient forage in Krems?’
‘Forage has not been supplied to the extent..’
The Emperor interrupted him.
‘At what o’clock was General Schmidt killed?’
‘At seven o’clock, I believe.’
‘At seven o’clock? It’s very sad, very sad!’
The Emperor thanked Prince Andrew and bowed. Prince
Andrew withdrew and was immediately surrounded by
courtiers on all sides. Everywhere he saw friendly looks and
heard friendly words. Yesterday’s adjutant reproached him
for not having stayed at the palace, and offered him his own
house. The Minister of War came up and congratulated him
on the Maria Theresa Order of the third grade, which the
Emperor was conferring on him. The Empress’ chamberlain invited him to see Her Majesty. The archduchess also
wished to see him. He did not know whom to answer, and
for a few seconds collected his thoughts. Then the Russian
ambassador took him by the shoulder, led him to the window, and began to talk to him.
Contrary to Bilibin’s forecast the news he had brought
was joyfully received. A thanksgiving service was arranged,
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Kutuzov was awarded the Grand Cross of Maria Theresa,
and the whole army received rewards. Bolkonski was invited everywhere, and had to spend the whole morning calling
on the principal Austrian dignitaries. Between four and five
in the afternoon, having made all his calls, he was returning
to Bilibin’s house thinking out a letter to his father about
the battle and his visit to Brunn. At the door he found a vehicle half full of luggage. Franz, Bilibin’s man, was dragging
a portmanteau with some difficulty out of the front door.
Before returning to Bilibin’s Prince Andrew had gone to
bookshop to provide himself with some books for the campaign, and had spent some time in the shop.
‘What is it?’ he asked.
‘Oh, your excellency!’ said Franz, with difficulty rolling
the portmanteau into the vehicle, ‘we are to move on still
farther. The scoundrel is again at our heels!’
‘Eh? What?’ asked Prince Andrew.
Bilibin came out to meet him. His usually calm face
showed excitement.
‘There now! Confess that this is delightful,’ said he. ‘This
affair of the Thabor Bridge, at Vienna…. They have crossed
without striking a blow!’
Prince Andrew could not understand.
‘But where do you come from not to know what every
coachman in the town knows?’
‘I come from the archduchess’. I heard nothing there.’
‘And you didn’t see that everybody is packing up?’
‘I did not… What is it all about?’ inquired Prince Andrew
impatiently.
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‘What’s it all about? Why, the French have crossed the
bridge that Auersperg was defending, and the bridge was
not blown up: so Murat is now rushing along the road to
Brunn and will be here in a day or two.’
‘What? Here? But why did they not blow up the bridge,
if it was mined?’
‘That is what I ask you. No one, not even Bonaparte,
knows why.’
Bolkonski shrugged his shoulders.
‘But if the bridge is crossed it means that the army too is
lost? It will be cut off,’ said he.
‘That’s just it,’ answered Bilibin. ‘Listen! The French
entered Vienna as I told you. Very well. Next day, which
was yesterday, those gentlemen, messieurs les marechaux,*
Murat, Lannes,and Belliard, mount and ride to bridge. (Observe that all three are Gascons.) ‘Gentlemen,’
