sprained arm and shoulder. To rid himself of them he closed
his eyes.
For a moment he dozed, but in that short interval innumerable things appeared to him in a dream: his mother and
her large white hand, Sonya’s thin little shoulders, Natasha’s
eyes and laughter, Denisov with his voice and mustache, and
Telyanin and all that affair with Telyanin and Bogdanich.
That affair was the same thing as this soldier with the harsh
voice, and it was that affair and this soldier that were so ago360
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nizingly, incessantly pulling and pressing his arm and always
dragging it in one direction. He tried to get away from them,
but they would not for an instant let his shoulder move a
hair’s breadth. It would not acheit would be wellif only they
did not pull it, but it was immpossible to get rid of them.
He opened his eyes and looked up. The black canopy of
night hung less than a yard above the glow of the charcoal.
Flakes of falling snow were fluttering in that light. Tushin
had not returned, the doctor had not come. He was alone
now, except for a soldier who was sitting naked at the other
side of the fire, warming his thin yellow body.
‘Nobody wants me!’ thought Rostov. ‘There is no one to
help me or pity me. Yet I was once at home, strong, happy,
and loved.’ He sighed and, doing so, groaned involuntarily.
‘Eh, is anything hurting you?’ asked the soldier, shaking
his shirt out over the fire, and not waiting for an answer he
gave a grunt and added: ‘What a lot of men have been crippled todayfrightful!’
Rostov did not listen to the soldier. He looked at the
snowflakes fluttering above the fire and remembered a Russian winter at his warm, bright home, his fluffy fur coat, his
quickly gliding sleigh, his healthy body, and all the affection and care of his family. ‘And why did I come here?’ he
wondered.
Next day the French army did not renew their attack,
and the remnant of Bagration’s detachment was reunited to
Kutuzov’s army.
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BOOK THREE: 1805
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Chapter I
Prince Vasili was not a man who deliberately thought out
his plans. Still less did he think of injuring anyone for his
own advantage. He was merely a man of the world who had
got on and to whom getting on had become a habit. Schemes
and devices for which he never rightly accounted to himself,
but which formed the whole interest of his life, were constantly shaping themselves in his mind, arising from the
circumstances and persons he met. Of these plans he had
not merely one or two in his head but dozens, some only
beginning to form themselves, some approaching achievement, and some in course of disintegration. He did not, for
instance, say to himself: ‘This man now has influence, I must
gain his confidence and friendship and through him obtain
a special grant.’ Nor did he say to himself: ‘Pierre is a rich
man, I must entice him to marry my daughter and lend me
the forty thousand rubles I need.’ But when he came across
came across a man of position his instinct immediately told
him that this man could be useful, and without any premeditation Prince Vasili took the first opportunity to gain
his confidence, flatter him, become intimate with him, and
finally make his request.
He had Pierre at hand in Moscow and procured for him
an appointment as Gentleman of the Bedchamber, which at
that time conferred the status of Councilor of State, and in
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sisted on the young man accompanying him to Petersburg
and staying at his house. With apparent absent-mindedness,
yet with unhesitating assurance that he was doing the right
thing, Prince Vasili did everything to get Pierre to marry
his daughter. Had he thought out his plans beforehand he
could not have been so natural and shown such unaffected
familiarity in intercourse with everybody both above and
below him in social standing. Something always drew him
toward those richer and more powerful than himself and
he had rare skill in seizing the most opportune moment for
making use of people.
Pierre, on unexpectedly becoming Count Bezukhov and
a rich man, felt himself after his recent loneliness and freedom from cares so beset and preoccupied that only in bed
was he able to be by himself. He had to sign papers, to present himself at government offices, the purpose of which was
not clear to him, to question his chief steward, to visit his
estate near Moscow, and to receive many people who formerly did not even wish to know of his existence but would
now have been offended and grieved had he chosen not to
see them. These different peoplebusinessmen, relations, and
acquaintances alikewere all disposed to treat the young heir
in the most friendly and flattering manner: they were all
evidently firmly convinced of Pierre’s noble qualities. He
was always hearing such words as: ‘With your remarkable
kindness,’ or, ‘With your excellent heart,’ ‘You are yourself
so honorable Count,’ or, ‘Were he as clever as you,’ and so
on, till he began sincerely to believe in his own exceptional kindness and extraordinary intelligence, the more so as
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in the depth of his heart it had always seemed to him that
he really was very kind and intelligent. Even people who
had formerly been spiteful toward him and evidently unfriendly now became gentle and affectionate. The angry
eldest princess, with the long waist and hair plastered down
like a doll’s, had come into Pierre’s room after the funeral.
With drooping eyes and frequent blushes she told him she
was very sorry about their past misunderstandings and did
not now feel she had a right to ask him for anything, except only for permission, after the blow she had received,
to remain for a few weeks longer in the house she so loved
and where she had sacrificed so much. She could not refrain
from weeping at these words. Touched that this statuesque
princess could so change, Pierre took her hand and begged
her forgiveness, without knowing what for. From that day
the eldest princess quite changed toward Pierre and began
knitting a striped scarf for him.
‘Do this for my sake, mon cher; after all, she had to put
up with a great deal from the deceased,’ said Prince Vasili to
him, handing him a deed to sign for the princess’ benefit.
Prince Vasili had come to the conclusion that it was necessary to throw this bonea bill for thirty thousand rublesto
the poor princess that it might not occur to her to speak of
his share in the affair of the inlaid portfolio. Pierre signed
the deed and after that the princess grew still kinder. The
younger sisters also became affectionate to him, especially
the youngest, the pretty one with the mole, who often made
him feel confused by her smiles and her own confusion
when meeting him.
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It seemed so natural to Pierre that everyone should like
him, and it would have seemed so unnatural had anyone
disliked him, that he could not but believe in the sincerity
of those around him. Besides, he had no time to ask himself
whether these people were sincere or not. He was always
busy and always felt in a state of mild and cheerful intoxication. He felt as though he were the center of some important
and general movement; that something was constantly
expected of him, that if he did not do it he would grieve
and disappoint many people, but if he did this and that, all
would be well; and he did what was demanded of him, but
still that happy result always remained in the future.
More than anyone else, Prince Vasili took possession
of Pierre’s affairs and of Pierre himself in those early days.
From the death of Count Bezukhov he did not let go his
hold of the lad. He had the air of a man oppressed by business, weary and suffering, who yet would not, for pity’s
sake, leave this helpless youth who, after all, was the son of
his old friend and the possessor of such enormous wealth,
to the caprice of fate and the designs of rogues. During the
few days he spent in Moscow after the death of Count Bezukhov, he would call Pierre, or go to him himself, and tell
him what ought to be done in a tone of weariness and assurance, as if he were adding every time: ‘You know I am
overwhelmed with business and it is purely out of charity
that I trouble myself about you, and you also know quite
well that what I propose is the only thing possible.’
‘Well, my dear fellow, tomorrow we are off at last,’ said
Prince Vasili one day, closing his eyes and fingering Pierre’s
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elbow, speaking as if he were saying something which had
long since been agreed upon and could not now be altered.
‘We start tomorrow and I’m giving you a place in my carriage. I am very glad. All our important business here is
now settled, and I ought to have been off long ago. Here is
something I have received from the chancellor. I asked him
for you, and you have been entered in the diplomatic corps
and made a Gentleman of the Bedchamber. The diplomatic
career now lies open before you.’
Notwithstanding the tone of wearied assurance with
which these words were pronounced, Pierre, who had so
long been considering his career, wished to make some suggestion. But Prince Vasili interrupted him in the special
deep cooing tone, precluding the possibility of interrupting his speech, which he used in extreme cases when special
persuasion was needed.
‘Mais, mon cher, I did this for my own sake, to satisfy my
conscience, and there is nothing to thank me for. No one
has ever complained yet of being too much loved; and besides, you are free, you could throw it up tomorrow. But you
will see everything for yourself when you get to Petersburg.
It is high time for you to get away from these terrible recollections.’ Prince Vasili sighed. ‘Yes, yes, my boy. And my
valet can go in your carriage. Ah! I was nearly forgetting,’
he added. ‘You know, mon cher, your father and I had some
accounts to settle, so I have received
