IN THE EVENING of the same day a lively discussion was taking place in Denisov's quarters between some officers of the squadron.

“But I tell you, Rostov, that you must apologise to the colonel,” the tall staff-captain was saying, addressing Rostov, who was crimson with excitement. The staff-captain, Kirsten, a man with grizzled hair, immense whiskers, thick features and a wrinkled face, had been twice degraded to the ranks for affairs of honour, and had twice risen again to holding a commission.

“I permit no one to tell me I'm lying!” cried Rostov. “He told me I was lying and I told him he was lying. And there it rests. He can put me on duty every day, he can place me under arrest, but no one can compel me to apologise, because if he, as the colonel, considers it beneath his dignity to give me satisfaction, then …”

“But you wait a bit, my good fellow; you listen to me,” interrupted the staff-captain in his bass voice, calmly stroking his long whiskers. “You tell the colonel in the presence of other officers that an officer has stolen—”

“I'm not to blame for the conversation being in the presence of other officers. Possibly I ought not to have spoken before them, but I'm not a diplomatist. That's just why I went into the hussars; I thought that here I should have no need of such finicky considerations, and he tells me I'm a liar … so let him give me satisfaction.”

“That's all very fine, no one imagines that you're a coward; but that's not the point. Ask Denisov if it's not utterly out of the question for an ensign to demand satisfaction of his colonel?”

Denisov was biting his moustache with a morose air, listening to the conversation, evidently with no desire to take part in it. To the captain's question, he replied by a negative shake of the head.

“You speak to the colonel in the presence of other officers of this dirty business,” pursued the staff-captain. “Bogdanitch” (Bogdanitch was what they called the colonel) “snubbed you …”

“No, he didn't. He said I was telling an untruth.”

“Quite so, and you talked nonsense to him, and you must apologise.”

“Not on any consideration!” shouted Rostov.

“I shouldn't have expected this of you,” said the staff-captain seriously and severely. “You won't apologise, but, my good sir, it's not only him, but all the regiment, all of us, that you've acted wrongly by; you're to blame all round. Look here; if you'd only thought it over, and taken advice how to deal with the matter, but you must go and blurt it all straight out before the officers. What was the colonel to do then? Is he to bring the officer up for trial and disgrace the whole regiment? On account of one scoundrel is the whole regiment to be put to shame? Is that the thing for him to do, to your thinking? It is not to our thinking. And Bogdanitch did the right thing. He told you that you were telling an untruth. It's unpleasant, but what could he do? you brought it on yourself. And now when they try to smooth the thing over, you're so high and mighty, you won't apologise, and want to have the whole story out. You're huffy at being put on duty, but what is it for you to apologise to an old and honourable officer! Whatever Bogdanitch may be, any way he's an honourable and gallant old colonel; you're offended at that, but disgracing the regiment's nothing to you.” The staff-captain's voice began to quaver. “You, sir, have been next to no time in the regiment; you're here to-day, and to-morrow you'll be passed on somewhere as an adjutant; you don't care a straw for people saying: ‘There are thieves among the Pavlograd officers!' But we do care! Don't we, Denisov? Do we care?”

Denisov still did not speak or stir; his gleaming black eyes glanced now and then at Rostov.

“Your pride is dear to you, you don't want to apologise,” continued the staff-captain, “but we old fellows, as we grew up in the regiment and, please God, we hope to die in it, it's the honour of the regiment is dear to us, and Bogdanitch knows that. Ah, isn't it dear to us! But this isn't right; it's not right! You may take offence or not; but I always speak the plain truth. It's not right!”

And the staff-captain got up and turned away from Rostov.

“That's the truth, damn it!” shouted Denisov, jumping up. “Come, Rostov, come!”

Rostov, turning crimson and white again, looked first at one officer and then at the other.

“No, gentlemen, no … you mustn't think … I quite understand, you're wrong in thinking that of me … I … for me … for the honour of the regiment I'd … but why talk? I'll prove that in action and for me the honour of the flag … well, never mind, it's true, I'm to blame!” … There were tears in his eyes. “I'm wrong, wrong all round! Well, what more do you want?” …

“Come, that's right, count,” cried the staff-captain, turning round and clapping him on the shoulder with his big hand.

“I tell you,” shouted Denisov, “he's a capital fellow.”

‘That's better, count,” repeated the captain, beginning to address him by his title as though in acknowledgment of his confession. “Go and apologise, your excellency.”

“Gentlemen, I'll do anything, no one shall hear a word from me,” Rostov protested in an imploring voice, “but I can't apologise, by God, I can't, say what you will! How can I apologise, like a little boy begging pardon!”

Denisov laughed.

“It'll be the worse for you, if you don't. Bogdanitch doesn't forget things; he'll make you pay for your obstinacy,” said Kirsten.

“By God, it's not obstinacy! I can't describe the feeling it gives me. I can't do it.”

“Well, as you like,” said the staff-captain. “What has the scoundrel done with himself?” he asked Denisov.

“He has reported himself ill; to-morrow the order's given for him to be struck off,” said Denisov.

“It is an illness, there's no other way of explaining it,” said the staff-captain.

“Whether it's illness or whether it's not, he'd better not cross my path—I'd kill him,” Denisov shouted bloodthirstily.

Zherkov walked into the room.

“How do you come here?” the officers cried to the newcomer at once.

“To the front, gentlemen. Mack has surrendered with his whole army.”

“Nonsense!”

“I've seen him myself.”

“What? Seen Mack alive, with all his arms and legs?”

“To the front! to the front! Give him a bottle for such news. How did you come here?”

“I've been dismissed back to the regiment again on account of that devil, Mack. The Austrian general complained of me. I congratulated him on Mack's arrival. … What is it, Rostov, you look as if you'd just come out of a hot bath?”

“We've been in such a mess these last two days, old boy.”

The regimental adjutant came in and confirmed the news brought by Zherkov. They were under orders to advance next day.

“To the front, gentlemen!”

“Well, thank God! we've been sticking here too long.”

就在那天夜晚，骑兵连的军官们都在杰尼索夫的住宅中热烈地交谈。

“罗斯托夫，我告诉您，您要向团长表示歉意。”骑兵上尉对两脸通红、激动不安的罗斯托夫说，上尉身材高大，头发苍白，口髭浓重，大脸膛上布满着皱纹。

骑兵上尉基尔斯坚曾二度因赔偿名誉而贬为士兵，但两次恢复原职，又升为上尉。

“任何人说我撒谎，我都不容许！”罗斯托夫高声喊道，“他说我撒谎，我就说他撒谎。事情始终是如此。即使是天天派我值勤也行，把我关进牢房也行，可是任何人不能强迫我道歉，如果他身为团长，认为自己不屑于同我决斗，那末……”

“老兄，请您等一等，听我说吧，”骑兵上尉用那男低音打断他的发言，一面悠闲地捋顺他那长长的胡髭，“您在旁的军官面前对团长说有个军官行窃……”

“在旁的军官面前谈起这件事情，我是没有过错的。也许不应当在他们面前谈到这等事，但我不是外交官。我之所以来当骠骑兵，就是因为骑兵队里根本用不着讲究细节的缘故，可是他竟然说我撒谎……那末就要他同意和我决斗……”

“这些话说得不错，谁也不会想到您是个懦夫，可是问题并不在这里。您问问杰尼索夫，士官生向团长提出决斗，这像什么话？”

杰尼索夫咬了一下胡髭，面色阴沉地静听发言，显然他是不愿意参与这次谈话的。他对骑兵上尉的发问否定地摇了摇头。

“您当着军官们的面对团长说这种下流话，”骑兵上尉继续说下去，“波格丹内奇（团长叫做波格丹内奇）把您遏止住了。”

“没有遏止，而是说我扯谎。”

“得了吧，您竟对他说了这么多傻话，理应道歉。”

“决不道歉！”罗斯托夫高声喊道。

“我没有料到您会这样，”骑兵上尉严肃而冷漠地说，“可是，老兄啊，您不光是不愿意在团长面前，而且也不愿意在整个兵团面前，在我们大家面前道歉。您原先就应当仔细想想，请别人指教一下，应当怎样来应付这件事，可是您公然在军官们面前把什么都说出来了。而团长现在该怎么办呢？把这名军官送交法庭审判，玷污整个兵团吗？因为一个恶棍而使整个兵团名誉扫地吗？在您看来，这样做行吗？在我们看来，这样不行。波格丹内奇真有两下子，他说您扯谎。听起来虽不悦耳，但是毫无办法啊，老兄？是您自己乱冲的。现在大伙儿都想暗中了结这个案子，您却因为骄傲而不愿意道歉，想把什么都说出来。叫您多值一会儿班，您就感到气恼，干嘛您不能向一个令人尊敬的老军官道歉？不管波格丹内奇怎么样，他毕竟是个令人尊敬的勇敢的老上校，可是您感到气恼；玷污兵团，您不在乎嘛！”骑兵上尉的声音颤栗起来，“老兄，您在兵团中没有呆上几天，今天呆在兵团里，明天就被调到什么地方去做副官。您不理睬别人说的话：保罗格勒兵团中的军官们中竟有窃贼！我们可不是一切都不在乎的。杰尼索夫，难道不是这样吗？不是一切都不在乎的吧？”

杰尼索夫总是沉默不言，也不动弹，有时候用他那乌黑的闪闪发亮的眼睛望望罗斯托夫。

“骄傲对您是很宝贵的，您是不愿意道歉的，”骑兵上尉继续说下去，“不过我们这些老年人，因为是在兵团里成长的，所以死也应该死在兵团里。总之，在我们心目中，荣誉是宝贵的，这一点波格丹内奇也是知道的。啊，您不明白这是多么可贵，老兄！这样很不好，很不好！您以后生气还是不生气呢，我始终要把实话说出来。很不好！”

骑兵上尉于是站起来，把脸转过去不理睬罗斯托夫。

“说实在的，真了不起！”杰尼索夫一跃而起，说道，“喂，罗斯托夫，喂！”

罗斯托夫脸上白里透红，焦虑不安，他时而望望这个军官，时而望望那个军官。

“不是，先生们，不是……您甭以为……我十分明了；您对我抱有那种看法是毫无根据的……我……为我自己……为兵团的光荣……不是么？我要用事实来证明一下，团旗的光荣对我也是……嗯，说实在的，反正是我有罪！……”他眼睛里噙着泪水。“我有罪，全是我的不是！……您还要怎样呢？

……”

“伯爵，就是这样的。”骑兵上尉转过脸来喊道，他伸出他那巨大的手捶打着他的肩膀。

“我对你说，”杰尼索夫喊道，“他是个不错的人。”

“伯爵，这样才更好，”骑兵上尉重复地说，他用爵位称呼他，好像是表扬他承认错误似的。“伯爵大人，您去道道歉吧。”

“先生们，我能办妥一切事情，任何人决听不到我乱说一句话，”罗斯托夫用乞求的声音说道，“但是我不会道歉，你们想要怎样就怎样吧，我的确不会道歉！我怎么要去道歉呢，就像个儿童那样请求原宥么？”

杰尼索夫笑了起来。

“您会觉得更糟。波格丹内奇爱记旧仇，您因固执己见是会受到惩罚的。”基尔斯坚说道。

“说实在的，不是固执！我没法向您描述这是一种怎样的感情，我没法描述……”

“喂，听您的便，”骑兵上尉说道。“那个坏蛋溜到哪里去了？那怎样办？”他向杰尼索夫问道。

“他说他自己有病，明天就发出命令开除他。”杰尼索夫说道。

“这是疾病，不能用别的理由来解释。”骑兵上尉说。

“无论有病还是无病，他可不要碰见我——我会杀死他的！”杰尼索夫杀气腾腾地吼道。

热尔科夫走进房里来了。

“你怎么样？”军官们忽然把脸转向那个走进房里来的人，说道。

“先生们，出征啊。马克被俘，他随全军投降了。”

“撒谎！”

“是我亲眼看见的。”

“怎么？你亲眼看见马克还活着？有手有脚的活人？”

“出征啊！出征啊！他带来了消息，要给他一瓶烧酒。你怎么走到这里来了？”

“因为马克这个鬼家伙，我才又被派到兵团里来了。奥国将军控告我了。马克来了，我向他庆贺……罗斯托夫，你怎么样？你好像是从浴室里走出来的？”

“老兄，从昨天一直到现在，我们这儿很混乱。”

兵团团部的副官来了，他证明热尔科夫带来的消息是可靠的。已颁布命令明天开拔。

“先生们，要出征啊！”

“啊，谢天谢地，我们坐得太久了。”

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